pairing: din djarin x plus size / reverse age gap / fem!O/C

word count: 7.7K

chapter summary: Marathel is released from the hospital, Din changes his plans, and Marathel is surprised

warnings: angst angst angst, mention of illness, mention of past abuse, mention of mental illness, English and Mando'a cursing

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

Marathel, still sleeping, slowly realized that someone was gently straightening out her arm. She came awake, and opened her left eye to a dim room and Ya-Bito holding her arm, stroking it. Marathel grunted something unintelligible; her face was mostly pressed against Din's ribcage.

"I'm sorry, Marathel," whispered Ya-Bito. "I just need to get some blood." Marathel blinked her consent and winced against the prick of a needle. Ya-Bito collected the blood she required and put a pink bandage over the needle mark. "Go back to sleep," whispered Ya-Bito with her alarming smile as she quietly left the room.

Din sighed in his sleep, flexed his legs, and tightened his arms around her and Grogu. Marathel lay awake, listening to the strong heartbeat below her cheek. A heart attack? wondered Marathel. Yes, she remembered heartbreak when a bonded Dahl would die. When Rodanthe unbound herself from her, her heart hurt, yes, she hurt all over.

But then she remembered the men of the Hold, the times they would catch the rhyddolur or the nwymunwya. Oh, did they ever raise such a fuss! They demanded so much of the already ragged women: more delicate foods, more bathing, more pleasuring, more soiled bedding, more scrubbing around their necessaries! Any woman in the Hold was expected to continue her work no matter how poorly she felt; the few times Marathel got out of working due to her cycle were an aberration. And even then, she would drag herself off her pallet to service the Bishop, or whomever he wished to watch degrade her; it wasn't worth the extra beating. Those were the times she didn't actually mind getting anally raped; at least then she just had to lay there. Hence, the joke only whispered in the kitchen, full of derision: wai wchlas. Man flu.

I suppose some things are the same for men from other planets. It was a little mean of her, though, teasing Din like that. She considered apologizing for her smart mouth, then decided against it. She did enjoy getting to use her snarky words — when she knew it didn't mean a smack in the face. And Din once told me he loved me best when I said things like that.

But no more. Never again. They were untethered, and he wouldn't say such sweet things to her anymore. Oh, he'd comfort her, dry her tears, feel pity for her, like he'd feel for any stranger, as he'd told her.

Din snuffled, then his breathing became even again. Marathel craned her neck to look up; the other times she'd slept in his arms her head was nestled between his shoulder and neck. This time she'd slipped lower to rest against his rib cage, and she felt a metal pocket closure pressing into her cheek. Looking up, in the dim light of the room, she could see … his chin?

Din's helmet had caught on the pillow, and it had lifted the bottom edge just enough that part of his chin and jawline was exposed. How much of him have I seen? His hands, his forearms, quite nearly his entire torso, the top of his head, his … manhood, and now, this part of him that she'd only ever felt before. His soft skin, his strong jaw, and some patchy whiskers that had some silver threaded through.

Marathel tentatively reached out with a fingertip and just brushed a bit of beard on his chin, barely feeling the whiskers on her calloused finger, remembering running her fingers through his hair, and how he moaned against her lips as he kissed her. That was the only time she was able to touch his hair, and she desperately hoped she would remember how it felt, for this was more than likely be the last time she would be so intimate with Din.

And I only have this moment because of his pity for me. But … I'll accept it, and let it carry me back to Tatooine. Then, I can focus on my future. And there, I'll have friends that will keep me company while I figure out my life without the Bounty Hunter. I think I can bear that, so long as I have friends and I can see Grogu. Please, Frith, don't let the Bounty Hunter take Grogu away from me.

Thinking of Grogu and the people she had left behind on Tatooine — especially Cobb's easy smile and sparkling eyes — she fell asleep again.

It was a few hours later that Din felt someone jostling his shoulder. He turned his head to see Ya-Bito smiling at him. "Wake up, Mando. I've brought Marathel's breakfast, Also, the doctor will be coming through in about thirty minutes, and she's not big on patients sharing a bed." Din grunted in affirmation, and Ya-Bito left, turning the lights up a little brighter on her way out.

Din was only half-awake, so he took inventory: his arms were both asleep, his neck had a crick in it, and Grogu was resting right on his bladder, which had hit critical mass. He looked down at Marathel. She still slept. He traced a glove tip along one of the spiral coils wrapped around her fingers. This is day thirty-two, Marathel. This is one of the few times you didn't escape from me while we were sleeping. This is probably the last time I'll get to hold you like this, and I'm so confused about how I'm supposed to feel about you. He cared about her, that much was obvious. He only wanted her to be happy and safe. He hoped she wouldn't … didn't hate him for his fluctuating emotions for her. He didn't understand romantic love at the best of times, but whatever forces were at work between the two of them were way outside his comfort zone. If only …

But her breakfast was getting cold, and he really needed the vac tube. He squeezed her shoulder. "Marathel? Marathel, wake up." Her head popped up, her eyes still squeezed shut. "Feeling okay?"

Marathel worked one eye open. "I feel horrible." Din tilted his helmet, noticing her puffy, red-rimmed eyes and the red lines on her pale cheek from the pocket seams and zipper tab where she'd pressed her face to his chest. "My eyes ache."

Unsure of what to say, Din said, "Ya-Bito brought your breakfast. And I need to get up." Marathel nodded and sat up — thankfully without needing to push down on his full bladder to boost herself. She plucked the dozing Grogu off Din and nuzzled the boy's ear as Din rolled off the bed with a groan and shambled to the vac tube. After relieving himself, he took off his helmet and took a look in the mirror at his own puffy, red eyes. Marathel's story last night had affected him terribly. Even having something as simple as a doll was fraught with pain. Maybe she should stay here, stay in the psych ward, he thought.

But he couldn't leave her behind again. He even regretted leaving her to go to Nevarro to get his helmet repaired; if he'd only been with her when her first treatment failed, if perhaps he'd gone with her to the Reconstructionists, if he'd been with her when she'd learned that her whole way of life was an abhorrent aberration …

And if frogs had wings, they wouldn't bump their ass a-hoppin', kid. Regrets and ifs and maybes distract you from what you need to do. If you make a bad decision, you do your best to bounce off your ass and keep hopping.

After hearing his buir's words in his head, Din replaced his helmet with a sigh and left the fresher room to wash his hands at the sink. He soaked a washcloth in cold water for Marathel, turning around just in time to see her struggling with Grogu, who was actively trying to steal all the food from her plate. "Grogu, please, I know you're hungry …"

"Listen to your Mama, kid, that is her breakfast, not yours." He snagged Grogu from her and replaced the sausage links — floating in the air with the Force — on her plate. He handed her the washcloth. She muttered her thanks and held it against her eyes. Din sat down in the chair and said, "Your doctor will be coming in soon. They will probably talk to you about what you might want to do."

"Do?"

"Whether you want to be released, or whether you might want to go in for psychiatric care."

Marathel sighed and put the washcloth on her tray. "What do you think I should do?"

Din shifted in the chair, then said quietly, "I think that's a decision you need to make."

"Din … I don't know enough to make that kind of decision. I'm lost out here. Right now, I only have you to help me. I know I'm a burden to you, but I need to know what you think I should do."

Din shook his head and stammered, "Marathel … I ... my feelings for you ..."

Marathel put her hands to her forehead. "Urgh! Din, we need to talk about the important things! It doesn't matter that you don't love me anymore; that's not the point right now! Please, tell me if going into this psych ward is a good idea, because I don't know any different!"

"Marathel …"

"I'm a child, Din, just like Cobb says, I'm a full-grown child who dropped out of the sky! I need guidance if I'm going to survive out here! If I can't rely on you for help, the one person, right here, right now, who understands what I've been through, then what am I supposed to do?"

Din spread his hands, saying, "I'm not the best person to ask, Marathel! Mandalorians don't do psychiatry! I speak to my Confessor, the Armorer, and I follow her advice. I think about what my buir would say or do, and I follow the teachings of the Manda'lor. That's it. Whatever is the most practical thing, that's what I do."

"Then what is the practical thing for me to do, Bounty Hunter?"

Marathel's dropping back to calling him Bounty Hunter was not lost on Din. "Leaving you here would be inadvisable, in my opinion. I wouldn't know when I could come back to get you. There are things I must do for my Creed, and soon, but I cannot leave you here, not knowing if you're safe and all right. If you get released while I'm gone, and I can't come to get you, what will you do? And, and ... my only perception of a psych ward, any psych ward, is that it's not a good place. Ya-Bito has told you the same thing," said Din. He paused, then leaned forward to put his hand near hers. "Regardless of whatever … has ended between us, I can't … I don't want you to stay here." He leaned back in his chair, looking down to his knees. "But, your doctor is coming soon to talk to you, and you should consult their opinion, as well."

Marathel took in his words, nodded, and said, "Thank you. Thank you. That was what I needed." She took a breath, turned back to her tray, and frowned. "Grogu!"

Her tone made Din turn to Grogu, who had her toast in his mouth and part of a sausage in one hand. "Dank ferrik, Grogu, you opportunistic little … fink. I'm so sorry, Marathel. I … well, you were right. I haven't taught him any manners. Did he leave you anything?"

"A runny egg and some fruit. I hate runny eggs." Marathel sighed and pushed her tray away. "Perhaps someday you can stay in one place long enough to raise him right. How in Frith did your buir manage to raise you halfway decently?"

"I drove him into an early grave because I was a right shit," said Din as he wiped Grogu's mouth. "Perhaps Grogu is his way of getting back at me." Marathel laughed at that, a real laugh that crinkled the skin around her eyes and colored her full cheeks. The only things marring her beauty were her facial wound, and her missing teeth. But she could get those fixed, and …

There was a knock on the door, and a voice came through the intercom: "Marathel? It's Ya-Bito with Doctors Dine and Zohl. May we come in?"

Din quickly deposited a complaining Grogu in his bag with the stern command to be quiet. Marathel called out, "Come in, please."

The nurse and doctors came in, and Din stood, saying, "I'll step out …"

Ya-Bito asked, "Marathel? Did you want Mando here for this discussion? We're going to talk about your release from this ward today, and what you may want to do next."

Marathel looked up into Din's visor, and he wondered if she'd say yes, stay or no, leave. Marathel swallowed, then said, "Please excuse us, Bounty Hunter." Din nodded and left, disappointed. As he walked the halls towards the elevator, he considered her earlier words: it doesn't matter that you don't love me anymore.

It doesn't matter, Bounty Hunter.

Bounty Hunter.

"Haar'chak," muttered Din. Blinking rapidly a few times, he decided two things needed to be done: one, find some food for both himself and the kid. Two, he needed to talk to the harbormaster where the Crest was docked, because, with or without Marathel, he was apparently leaving this planet today.

Marathel, meanwhile, listened to Doctor Dine talk about her physical condition. Her D had been successful. Samples of tissue had been tested and none had been malignant — a new word for her that required quite a bit of explanation. Dine explained endometriosis more in depth as well, showing Marathel scans of her reproductive organs, commenting on their abnormalities. She recommended that Marathel see a specialist for potential hormone therapy or further surgery. Her wounds seemed to be healing well and she had no signs of infection. "There's no reason why you can't be released from this ward, Marathel. You seem well, and you're strong and healthy overall. But there is the matter of your emotional and mental state."

It was at this point that Doctor Zohl introduced herself as a psychiatrist that specialized in trauma. "Marathel, you are possibly the most traumatized person I have ever met, as well as the strongest. I have nothing but admiration for you. I only want you to have the most fulfilling life; that is the goal of everyone here."

"I believe you," said Marathel quietly.

"The thing is, Marathel, we are struggling with what would be the best course of action for you. In listening to you tell your story yesterday, I got the distinct feeling that four walls and a closed door cause you a great deal of anxiety. Therefore, we believe inpatient treatment — where you would stay here or go to another facility — would not be beneficial at this time. I would be concerned that you'd feel trapped, which would add to your anxiety, and do you more harm than good.

"And then, knowing that you come from a people who have been isolated for two millennia — coupled with the fact that you do not respond to bacta — we also can't recommend that you go on medications that may help your mental state. We just don't know how you may respond to antidepressants or anti-anxiety meds, because we don't fully understand your full physiological being. Along with the fact that you have chronic brain damage, both due to physical trauma and hypoxia, drugs are just not a good idea at this time."

Marathel began to feel despair. Can I not get better? Is there nothing that can help me?

Doctor Zohl sensed Marathel's distress, and leaned forward to put her hand on Marathel's knee. "Talk to me, Marathel." Marathel closed her eyes and shook her head. "Marathel? This is what we think will work for you. You need to talk. The way you handled yourself yesterday was nothing short of amazing. However, wethink you're compartmentalizing and disassociating …" — Marathel opened her eyes, confused — "… but that's a bunch of big words you don't need to worry about at this point."

"Then what am I supposed to do?" asked Marathel in a small voice.

"We — and when I say 'we', I'm talking about myself and two other doctors — we just want to talk to you each day for a while. As we go along, as you become more comfortable, that may change."

"How would that happen, if I'm going to leave here?"

Doctor Zohl held up a holopad. "Do you know what this is?"

Marathel nodded. "A holopad. I have one. Not here ... I think it's on the Bounty Hunter's ship. A friend gave it to me. I don't know how to use it, because I ... can't read." These last two words were spoken in a shameful whisper, but when she stole a glance at the doctors, they seem unconcerned about her failing.

"Perhaps the Bounty Hunter can teach you how to use the holopad? We can give you a printout of the instructions of how to set up our visits together, and he can help you, yes?"

"Perhaps," said Marathel with a shrug.

"You don't believe he would help you? He seems to be very fond of you. He's been here practically non-stop since he first brought you here." Marathel was holding Grogu's new Fawg on her lap, and she kept stroking the toy's head. "And his little boy, of course, is obviously very precious to you."

"Not right now; the brat stole most of my breakfast."

The medics all laughed, then Doctor Zohl said, "We were surprised that you kept the child out of your chat with the New Republic officers. Both of you did. Is there a reason for that?"

"Yes."

"But you're not going to explain it?"

"No."

Doctor Dine smiled and said, "I like your fierce loyalty. The Mandalorian is just as loyal to you. Yet you two both insist that you're not in a relationship."

"We're not," said Marathel with great sadness.

Doctor Zohl said, "Let's leave that for now. Do you know what the Mandalorian intends to do once you leave here? Does he plan to take you somewhere?"

"I believe he will be taking me back to the planet where he first got me medical care. After I was made a Belwhyn. The people there, they were good to me. They are friends. I feel safe there."

"Then what will happen, do you think?"

"I don't know. I can't think that far ahead."

Doctor Zohl nodded. "Are you willing to chat with us over holo? We really think it would be beneficial to you. Friends are good, having supportive people is good. But you must understand that having a medical professional support system for your mental health is advantageous, and frankly, we're good at it. I mean, you wouldn't eat food that was made by someone who wasn't good at cooking, right?"

Marathel smiled a tiny smile. "Well, no. I wouldn't. For example, I'm not going to eat that runny egg," she said, pointing to her plate.

Ya-Bito stood up and took a look. "Eewww. You're right. I'd be happy to bring you something else."

Marathel nodded, and Ya-Bito left to find another tray. The doctors discussed things with her for a little longer, and Marathel began at feel more at ease. She now had a plan, and plans were good; she couldn't knit a sweater for Grogu without a plan, could she? So many things for her were new and unknown and frightening, but she had hope that these doctors could help her sick mind.

The doctors left to work on her release, and Ya-Bito brought a new breakfast for Marathel. The nurse wanted to see what Din had picked out for her at Mise-Tusil, so Marathel allowed Ya-Bito to bring out all the purchases and hold them up. "He didn't do a half-bad job, your Mandalorian," mused Ya-Bito as she carefully cut off all the tags. Not my Mandalorian, thought Marathel. The nurse continued, "Normally, I would advise you to wash everything – especially the underwear – before wearing, but you don't seem to have much of a choice." Ya-Bito folded everything again, and told Marathel she would find a packet of adhesive pads to wear instead of the disposable underwear.

After she left, Marathel finished her breakfast – with a properly cooked egg this time – and carefully stroked the neckline of one of the tops Din had bought. Such an odd thing, a man buying her clothing. And undergarments, for Frith's sake. The Mandalorian, choosing undergarments for her! Surely these things were worth a lot of that money that Marathel was still so unsure about. She reminded herself that he had exchanged the coins for useable money; that's what Fennec had told her. She then wondered what in Frith she was going to do for money! She was going to need the stuff in order to survive, wasn't she? She couldn't live off the generosity of the Bounty Hunter, or even Fennec and Boba, for that matter! She began to panic, fearing that the voices of the Dahls would fill her mind with horrible thoughts — she could just hear their quiet chattering — but instead, the practical-sensible voice came back to her, calming her.

One thing at a time, old girl. Tatooine is a big planet, and you have skills! You can cook, you can clean. You can care for children. You can grow a garden. You know how to sew, how to spin, how to weave. You can work somewhere like the palace! You can make things to sell! Silnima came from a bad place, and look at her now!

The possibilities suddenly filled her with excitement, a completely new feeling to her. Marathel felt overwhelmed again, but for the first time, with how good her life could be that she began to cry. Just then, Ya-Bito returned with Siewan in tow. Seeing her in tears, Siewan said, "Oh, kriffing hell, what is it, honey? Who made you cry? Whose ass do we have to kick?"

"I'm happy, I'm happy," insisted Marathel.

"If you say so! The docs are still working on your release, but you can get dressed and ready to leave. If that is your plan. Is it?"

Marathel nodded. "I am … leaving, yes."

"With Mando?"

"With Mando."

"Good," said Ya-Bito. "Whatever you think is or isn't going on between you two, it's obvious he cares about your welfare. And I also think that you are as important to him as he is to you. You two just haven't … found each other at the same place yet."

Marathel frowned. "I don't understand."

"Of course not. But it is both our fervent hope that you will," said Siewan. "Now, let's get you dressed. Not sure where your Mandalorian is ..."

"Not my Mandalorian ..." said Marathel, rolling her eyes.

"Sure, honey, and maybe Kowakian monkey-lizards are flying out of my ass," scoffed Siewan, making Ya-Bito laugh. "Let's get you ready to blow this joint so you and Mando and the little greenie can fly off into the great black yonder."

Din, meanwhile, was pissed off. He'd gone back to the Crest to find out that Teva's goons had damaged his ship when removing the tracker, shorting out a section of his electrical system. Not only that, he was now blocked in by a fleet of cordovas for some high-rolling sonofabitch and his entourage, and he couldn't leave until fucking tomorrow. The harbormaster merely shrugged and handed Din a credit for a room at the connecting hotel. Teva was at least apologetic, but couldn't do anything beyond assuring Din that the damage would be repaired before tomorrow morning.

Grumbling, Din went to the hotel and presented his credit chit to the front desk, who said that a room wouldn't be ready until mid-afternoon. Also, the chit was only good for a mid-sized room with one double bed. Din offered to put up the difference for a second room, a suite, anything, but the hotel was completely booked. Of fucking course, thought Din. One bed. My life has become a ridiculous rom-com holo! Dammit, Frith, get better writers!

He started the trek back to the medical center, almost getting there before he remembered that he had also meant to grab some food for himself and Grogu. He could get by without food, but the kid was a different story. He ducked into a dumpling house, and the proprietor — apparently familiar with Mandalorians — generously set up a quick private curtained booth for Din to eat in. In thanks, Din bought a few sweet dough dumplings for Marathel to try. He figured he owed her an apology for allowing Grogu to abscond with her breakfast, and possibly another apology for waffling when she had asked him directly for advice. While he was sitting there, watching Grogu work his way through a dumpling almost as large as he, his beeped. "What?"

"It's Karga. I need an answer, Mando."

Din sighed. "Go ahead."

"Well, congratulations!"

"In her name only."

"Her name?"

"It's her money, it'll be in her name."

"When did it become her money?"

"Never you mind. Just shoot me the papers; I'll get her to sign them."

There was a long pause at the other end before Karga said, "I set aside that property for you."

"Well, now it's going to be hers."

Another long pause. "I'll hang on to the papers until you get here. See you soon."

After Karga clicked off, Din sighed deeply and stared at the wall, mourning the death of The Plan. The Plan was no more. The Plan was to get a house for all three of them. Two bedrooms at least, one for himself and Grogu, one for her, her own room but in a house together, where she could adapt to a different and new life, hoping that in time, maybe, the arrangement could change. Perhaps it could have even changed to him moving into Marathel's room, living as a couple, as a family of a father and mother and child, somehow adding more children, despite reality dictating that no natural children would ever come to them … but that was all only wishful thinking. Even after Marathel had announced she wanted to return to Unmanarall, he'd hoped somehow that he could change her mind, that she'd have some sort of epiphany that she was not a monster that needed to be exiled. And now she was separating herself from him even more, going back to calling him Bounty Hunter and making decisions for herself that didn't involve him.

Perhaps he didn't feel love anymore, but he could feel regret.

Din put his helmet back on, thanked the proprietor, and left, with Grogu in his bag, still munching on the giant dumpling. He made his way back to Marathel's ward, walked up to her door, and found it wide open.

She was gone.

The bed had been stripped.

His heart fell into his stomach. She left? She left? And didn't even tell him what she had planned to do? Even just to say a kriffing goodbye? Feeling panicky, he went to the nurse's desk, looking for Siewan, Ya-Bito, someone who could give him some answers. The young woman at the desk looked in the chart tracker and all she was able to tell him was that Marathel had been released, but nothing beyond that. He thanked her, wondering how he should go about finding Marathel. He took a few steps back, looking up and down the corridor, when Ya-Bito stepped out of another patient's room. He hurried over to her, pleading, "Please, Ya-Bito, is Marathel ..."

Ya-Bito pointed behind her. "Goodness, Mando, she's just down the hall, in the family room. We needed to prep her bed for a new patient."

Din nodded his thanks, and then amused the hell out of Ya-Bito by jogging down the corridor to find Marathel, skidding to a halt in an open doorway. He peered into a large waiting room, where Marathel stood, looking confusedly at a holoprojector screen. She was wearing the russet top and dark pants he'd bought her the day before. Her hair was still braided, and she wore the pink fuzzy socks on her feet. She noticed him in the doorway, and turned towards him, asking, "Do they ... the people on the screen. Do they know we can see them?"

Din hadn't heard her, for he was too distracted by the sight of her. The red top did put color in her cheeks, and stood out against her pale skin. The scooped neck showed off her upper chest while still being modest, with a decorative tie just under her breasts. The fabric was cut in such a way that it draped delicately over her curves, convex here, concave there, showing off her waist in a way he hadn't quite ever seen before. The dark charcoal-colored pants also draped softly over her generous hips and her backside, and the sight made him want to drop to his knees before her and hug her tightly, just to feel her strong leg muscles rippling under the fabric of her pants. She was somehow ... more sexy, more tantalizing, clothed and standing before him, than she had been naked and astride him. He belatedly realized she had asked him a question. To cover up his distraction, he lifted Grogu out of his bag, allowing him to run to the toy table in the room. "I'm sorry, what?"

"The people. On the holo screen. Why are they there? They were just talking to each other, and now ..." Marathel blushed, and Din turned to the screen. It was a rom-com holo of some sort – he wasn't familiar with this story, but he recognized the actress. She and some Twi'lek actor were kissing the shab out of each other in a bed, draped as they were in what Din called the magic L-shaped sheet – it covered her up to her armpits while only covering him from the waist down, a typical bedlinen in stories like these, he'd noticed over the years.

"It's a holo, Marathel."

Marathel turned even more red. "But don't they know that we can see ... I mean, they're just ..."

"I'm not getting why this is bothering you."

"They're just ... showing everyone their private, intimate moments! What in Frith is wrong with them?"

Finally, it clicked for Din. There had been a holo screen in her room, but they'd never turned it on. Her only experience with a holopad was either talking to him or seeing the holo of his recording of the burlesque dancers. Marathel had no idea of what she was seeing, because she'd never seen a rom-com holo story before. She thinks that these characters are real people, really making love on a screen before whomever may be watching them! This tickled him even more than the time she'd been stuck in a tree, and he began to chuckle.

Marathel's eyes flashed with fury. "What is so funny?" she hissed.

"Nothing," said Din, quickly getting under control; poking fun at her shortcomings only annoyed her. "None of what you're seeing is real life. These people on the screen — they are pretending to be other people. They are acting out a story."

"Why?"

"'Why?'" parroted Din. Well, that's a good question. "To entertain people."

"So they are playing … guesedd?"

"What does that mean?"

"As children, I would play dwycwingen and Tymfy would play gochgoch and dwycwingen and gochgoch would talk about what they did outside the Hold walls. Running in the woods, getting chased by Dahls, sitting in the flowers. Doing what we — Marathel and Tymfy — couldn't."

Din felt a new pang of sadness for her, but also a happy feeling, knowing that she had a friend, and also happy knowing that she had at least some moments of a normal childhood, with games and friends and the love of a parent-figure. He had buir and she had Olba. He wished that she could have had buir as well, to teach her what a father should be. Finally, he said, "That is why people watch these holos. To see, hear, experience someone else's life. Some holos are funny, some are dramatic, or sad. Some are scary. Some are romantic."

"Romantic?"

"About people falling in love."

"These people are not … loving each other right now?"

"No. I can tell you that the woman on the screen is married to a Rebel Admiral. I've seen her in other stories. The guy, I have no idea who he is."

Marathel frowned. "So, she's the dwycwingen, and he's the gochgoch … but you have seen her be a dwycwingen with a different gochgoch in a different holo?" Din sketched a complicated flowchart in his head, parsing her sentence, but finally nodded. Marathel then said, "Now I feel … sad. They can kiss and … but it means nothing."

"It's meaningful to the people like to watch these things," said Din, shrugging.

Marathel sighed and sat down in a padded chair. "So much confuses me."

Din chuckled and said, "It amuses me sometimes, just how little you know about the galaxy. How much is new to you, when it's so commonplace to me."

"Cobb said that, too. He said … that my childlike ways warmed his cold, curmudgeon heart."

"Did he?"

"Oh yes. Still not sure what curmudgeon means …" mused Marathel with a smile.

Din bristled. "Just how much did Cobb say to you?"

"I don't understand."

"He paid too much attention to you, Marathel." Too handsy, too touchy-feely.

"You are …" Marathel struggled to think of the Newtalk word. "Bifennddus'sai?"

"Huh?"

"You are angry at the attention he gave me," snapped Marathel.

Din dropped his head and muttered, "Jealous. The word is jealous."

And just like that, Marathel had had enough of his snippiness whenever she mentioned Cobb. "Are you? Are you jell-uhs? Angry at me because Cobb was being a friend to me when I needed one?" Din looked back up. "I fell out of bed and hurt my knee; he helped me get up from the floor. He held my hand while I was undergoing those first injections, and I was frightened. He carried me, me, fat as I am, speeding back to the palace, when my treatment failed and I was losing all my blood again. He pulled me down off that windowsill and held me while I cried, after you left me there. You left me sitting on that windowsill. Yes, I said cruel things to you, I wanted the truth to drive you away, but I still had that childish hope that it wouldn't matter to you. Because you had told me that you loved me and nothing else mattered. But of course it mattered. You didn't love me. You never did."

"Marathel …" began Din.

"It was all the Dahls' doing."

"I know. I know, Marathel."

Marathel shook her head. "No, you don't! Rodanthe tethered us … tied us together in a bond … because she wanted to someone to love me."

"She … she what?"

"The Bishop told me that the Dahls kept all the men of the Hold away from me, killing anyone male who came near. But you … you weren't from the Hold, and the Dahls knew that. They knew you'd be different. They let you come near me, to see if I would accept you, and when I told them to leave you alone … when you pulled a boomer on them …"

"… Blaster …" mumbled Din.

"The Dahls took advantage of my bond with them and my curiosity of you and Grogu. I could hear their noises and emotions but when they were all together in the throes of mating, they could make me do things. They made me grab at you. Pull you to me. Make you take me. And then I bit you …"

"Marathel, it's …"

"But you didn't consent to that. None of it!"

"Neither did you!"

Marathel ignored him. "Rodanthe … she loved me, but she wanted me to have a mate. She had her mate. Dahls keep their mates, the ones they like best. She had her kits, including me. And her other kits got their mates, she had her mate, so why not me, I suppose? So, when you and Grogu arrived, she thought you would be a good mate for me. I bit you, I marked you as mine, she tethered us together. Easy."

"Easy?"

"Easy because I already loved you. Or I thought I did. Or she thought I did." Marathel angrily wiped away a tear.

"She told me to love you."

Marathel looked up in surprise. "She did what?"

"She came to me, the same night, after we … the second night of mating. She … looked at me. Stared at me, hypnotized me, smelt my breath, and then told me to love you and disappeared."

Marathel closed her eyes, and more tears spilled over. "I wanted so much to be loved by you. I wanted more kindness. I wanted more affection. I'd never known kindness, or affection, so, of course, I wanted more." She opened her eyes and Din was holding out a cloth for her to dry her tears, and she laughed. After blowing her nose, she said, "I also knew that it was such a struggle for you, to remain within your creed while … but it doesn't matter anymore, does it?

"I told Rodanthe to release you. I told her that I could not keep a hold on you that you were not aware of. I had been a slave my whole life, first to the Bishop, then to the Dahls. I was not, not ever, going to keep you bound to me when it wasn't v from your own heart. So, she released you. And then, it was as if my blood had turned to cold hard water; my heart stopped beating. I was utterly, truly, alone. And you felt the same way, just for a moment?"

Din nodded. "Yes. And I was so frightened I'd forget you again. But …"

"You remembered me, but you didn't 'forget' you loved me. You cannot forget a feeling you never had to begin with."

Din felt his heart hurt again and he dropped to one knee in front of her. "Ma'mwsh ha'laa…"

"It was all Rodanthe's doing. You are concerned about me, you do not wish me ill, you feel you have a responsibility to me, but you do not love me." Marathel's face flushed with embarrassment, having to explain all this to him.

Din carefully took her hand, and said quietly, "Marathel, I don't understand at all what those Dahls did to me, to us … I know I should love you. But I can't remember why, or even how. And I'm so, so, sorry."

He deserves so much better than me. "If you can't remember why or how, then … you shouldn't, I don't think." She pulled her hand away from his, and tightly interlaced her fingers together.

"Marathel …"

Tears spilled over. "Can we go?"

"Go? Does that mean you're leaving the hospital… coming with me?"

Marathel shifted uncomfortably. "Well, yes. Did you think I wouldn't?"

"I … it was a concern of mine, yes," said Din, mentally kicking himself for waffling again.

"Did you bring my shoes, at least?"

"Yes, I have your shoes."

Ya-Bito and Siewan poked their heads around the doorframe. "We told her she couldn't leave without her shoes," said Siewan. "And not until you said goodbye to us, Mando." Marathel and Din both turned to the nurses, who realized they'd interrupted something terribly important: Mando was on one knee before her, and Marathel was in tears. "Ooooh … shit. Um … okay, quick goodbye, then, and we'll leave you alone," said Siewan, grimacing.

Din stood, allowing the women to hug Marathel. They wished her well, and gave her release papers as well as contact information for the both of them. "Mando's going to help you get your holopad set up, yes?"

Marathel colored. "I haven't asked him yet ..."

"I'll take care of it," said Din.

"Good," said Ya-Bito, and both of the nurses came up close to Din, making him take a half-step back. "And you're going to take care of her, fella? Treat her right?"

Before Din could respond, Siewan said quietly, "Because we know what drugs to use."

Ya-Bito nodded. "Drugs that won't be found on an autopsy."

"And we know where to stick the needle."

"With no needle-tracks left behind."

"No-one would ever know."

Din took another half-step back, mumbling, "Yes, ma'am ..."

The nurse both laughed. "Oh, lighten up, Mando, we're just kidding with you!" guffawed Siewan. Then she dropped her chin and said, "Or are we?" the nurses said their last goodbyes, and left.

Din felt properly chastised, and he went back to one knee to help Marathel put on her shoes, despite her protesting she was more than capable of doing it herself. He had trouble with the left one, and she bent down to help as he lifted his head, smacking her nose into Din's helmet with a bonk. "I'm sorry, mesh'la," said Din, not even realizing he had said mesh'la, and Marathel's face colored as she realized that he was actually quite close to her and had automatically put his hand to her cheek. "Did I hurt you?"

"I'm fine, I'm fine ... let me just get up," said Marathel, pushing herself to her feet. Grogu ran over to hug her ankle with a squeal. "I appear to have grown a Grogu again," she said, then she bent over to pick up Grogu. It hurt her injured shoulder, and she groaned.

Din's hand went to her shoulder. "Does your shoulder still hurt? Did you need a sling?"

"No, it's mostly okay, so long as I don't wave my arms about much. It's okay. I'm all right."

"Well, let me carry Grogu. He's heavy." Marathel reluctantly handed over Grogu once she'd peppered his fuzzy head with kisses. "Ready to go? Are you able to walk?"

"Yes, if I can just …" Marathel put her arm through his again, and Din felt a spark of pride, just having her on his arm. It was if he had just met her again, as if somehow … she was a completely different woman. He walked her through the door, to the elevators, down to the lockers, where she sat on a bench and chatted with Grogu while Din re-armed himself. They slowly walked over the footbridge, allowing Marathel to look up and around at all the flashing lights, buildings, and decorations of the casinos all around them. Once they'd gotten to the other side, Din noticed the women's clothing shop where he'd met Meejil and The Great YellowHair TwatWaffle and noticed a sign saying, "CLOSED" on the door. He wondered briefly what the story was with that while he handed Marathel into one of the droid carts. Din crowded in next to her, programmed in their destination to Mise-Tusil, and the cart zipped off to its track.

"Aw," pouted Marathel. "This one isn't as fast."

"You've ridden one?"

Marathel nodded. "With Fennec. We had …" the cart suddenly stopped; a pedestrian had stepped in the cart's way. Marathel yelped and slid in the seat, and grabbed at Din.

Din threw his arm around her, pulling her close against him. "Haar'chak! Are you all right?"

"I'm okay! I'm all right."

As Din felt her body against his arm as he looked into her startled eyes, as he caught the warmth of her breath in his helmet, as he felt time stop for a moment. I don't love her, right? No, I don't. Do I? I don't know. But she's right. If I'm not sure … then I guess … Din sighed. "I'm sorry."

Marathel nodded. She smiled sadly at him and squeezed his hand. "I'm okay. I'm all right." Fake it 'til you make it, old girl.

The cart began moving again. "We have… a lot… we need to talk about," said Din.

"Yes, we do." Marathel stared off in front of them. "How many days until we get back to Tatooine?"

"I'm not … you're not going back to Tatooine."

Marathel was aghast. "What? Not going back … but … why?"

Din felt like a heel, because he was not going to tell her the full truth. "You said you hate it there."

"Tatooine is the only other place I know. I'm not … I can't … where, then?"

"Nevarro. I bought a house …"

Marathel quickly held her breath, thinking a house? For us?

Din continued, "You bought it, truthfully. Your… bounty. I only handled the paperwork. It's a small place, but it's a good-sized patch of land. A place where you can feel safe. Where … you can be a recluse if you want to be."

No, just me, alone.

"It's the one place that I come back to on a regular basis. You would be able to see Grogu. I don't go to Tatooine often, and … I couldn't take you away from him."

Just everyone else I know. My friends. And Cobb. Especially Cobb.

"Marathel?" She turned to Din. "Are you ... upset about the house? Nevarro?"

"I'm just surprised, that's all. Of course, I'll follow your judgement. Whatever you think is best."

Din, unconvinced, wanted to hold her hand, but was afraid to. "So, you're okay with my decision?"

Marathel nodded as she stared off in front of her, biting her lip to keep it from trembling. "I'm okay. I'm all right."

Din didn't believe her, but they remained silent until the cart stopped.