Michi-Reads

Over the year you traveled with him, he became more and more comfortable with your presence⏤ at least, that’s what you assumed the reasoning was for him becoming more vocal. They were little statements at first. Din would be clearing out his weapon locker, run into a problem, and spit out a string of curses. Peli had once told him that the Razor Crest would be grounded for at least a week and you hung onto every word of Mando’a of the rant he spiraled into about the last quarry who had caused the damage. You had planned on telling him you knew Mando’a⏤ you were going to casually mention it.

Then, he called you mesh’la.

A nickname you hadn’t expected.

Din had a habit of using a lot of nicknames that you’d never expect from him. Cyar’ika. Ner sarad. Cyare. Senaar’ika. Each new, adoring nickname would bring warmth to your face, but you had missed the normal window of opportunity to mention to him that you spoke his language. Especially when, in a panic, he had referred to you as ‘cyar’ika’ for the first time and you asked him what it meant. Din had answered in a simple way, giving you the definition without missing a beat, as if it were a casual thing. For a while, you thought that meant there was no significant weight behind those words.

Your theory of the nicknames just being for fun was shot in the face when you nearly got shot yourself. While out in a city, you had gotten caught in the crossfire. The quarry himself had spotted you and with a sickening grin turned to put you down. Luckily, he had missed⏤ it only clipped you in the arm⏤ but the rampage that Din had gone into was shocking. Not nearly as shocking as when you heard him speak to the quarry after pummeling his face beyond recognition: ‘I’ll bring you in cold for that, bastard. I don’t show mercy to those who target what’s mine’. For the rest of the night, you convinced yourself that it wasn’t what you thought. Sure, the two of you shared lingering touches and the tension had grown since you came aboard, but it had to be something else. 

Weeks later, while waiting in a cantina for Din to return from obtaining new pucks, a Twi’lek man had saddled up beside you. Despite making it clear you had no interest, the man continued to invade your space. That is, until Din stepped up to your other side and pulled you into his side. The Twi’lek had abandoned his goal very quickly and the words that left Din’s lips stayed with you for weeks on end. ‘Should've known better than to leave someone as beautiful as you alone at the bar’. Still, no matter how badly you wanted to just jump him, you convinced yourself he didn’t want you. He was a friend. That was all.

Until seconds ago. You sat on one of the crates in the Razor Crest’s cargo hold as Din applied a bacta patch to the claw marks across your calf. A run in with a Trandoshan gone wrong. He had pulled off his gloves to provide the care, not something out of the ordinary, but the feel of his fingertips against your skin was not a sensation you’d ever get used to. Din set his entire hand against the upper half of your calf and his thumb caressed the skin there. Without looking up, he murmured, “I will know you forever.”

You fully understood the weight of his words. Din rose to stand and began to walk away to put away the first aid kit. The words fell out of your mouth before you could consider any of the consequences, “I can speak Mando’a, and I am so sorry I didn’t tell you earlier but I panicked.” In the most uncharacteristic move you had seen from him, Din tripped over some of the gear he had been passing in the rush to spin and look back at you. The Mandalorian caught himself before he could do more than stumble. You offered him a sheepish smile, “Sorry. Again.”

“You speak Mando’a?” Din asked in his language. 

“A little.” You nodded then shook your head. “Actually, a lot. I’m⏤ I’m fluent.”

“This entire time?” Din slowly crept back towards you. You nodded. He continued on until he stood between your legs. Din’s hands settled on his hip and you were forced to lean back a bit to keep your nose from being pressed against his chest.

You scrunched your nose in concern, “Are you mad?”

- - - - - - - -

“So tell me something about yourself, Mando.” A few hours after you left Randon, you find yourself thoroughly bored. And curious about your travel companion. Unfortunately, Mando didn’t seem to match your curiosity. He ignores the question, busying himself with the controls.

“Oh come on,” you nudge the back of his chair with your foot. “If we’re going to be traveling together for a while I gotta know a little more about you than ‘always wears his helmet’ and ‘sometimes gives good advice’.”

Mando sighs and stands. He shifts to the other co-pilot chair and faces you, leaning forward with his arms resting on his knees. “What do you want to know?”

“I want to know about you. I’m having a hard time figuring you out.”

“Figuring me out?” His head tilts to the side. “Why do you want to figure me out?”

“Because I want to be your friend.” It was a simple admission, something incredibly human. 

He’s silent for long enough that you begin to worry you said the wrong thing. Just as you’re about to apologize and take back your statement, he begins to speak.

“I was adopted by the Mandalorians when I was a child. Both my parents had been killed and I had nowhere to go so they rescued me. I trained for a few years and, once I got my helmet, I fully became Mandalorian.”

You knew a little bit of this already, but the tone of his voice began to shift as he continues.

“I did bounty hunting for a while as a way to bring in money, for myself and for my covert on Nevarro. One day, I took a bounty for an ex-empire guy and had to go get someone for him. That’s how I found Grogu.”

“Your foundling?”

Mando nods before continuing, words tumbling from his hidden lips, “Exactly. Long story short, I brought Grogu back but it didn’t feel right… So I rescued him and spent some time running from a lot of people who were trying to take him. Including Moff Gideon.” The name doesn’t ring a bell, and he notes the look of confusion on your face. 

“Moff Gideon is a warlord seeking the restoration of the Empire. Grogu was a part of that plan, but I’m not sure how.”

“Is he safe now?” 

Another nod. “Yes. He’s back with his kind.”

You smile, “Good. What happened after all that?”

“Not much, I’ve tried to lay low…” His sentence trails off as he pulls at a thread on his gloves. 

“You miss him,” you say, more of a statement than a question. 

“I do.”

If you didn’t know any better, you’d think there was emotion in those two little words. Mando, up until now, seemed a paragon of distance and strength. Listening him talk about Grogu, though, was showing you a softer side. 

“Thank you, Mando,” you reach across and squeeze his hand before sitting back. “And… I’m sorry. For the things I said before we got to Randon. I was saying things without thinking.”

“You don’t need to apologize. You were dealing with a lot.”

“Even so, it was harsh and unfair to you.”

He inclines his head in acceptance just as the proximity alert goes off, signaling the drop out of hyperdrive. As the stars settle back into place you get your first view of Pasaana. The desert planet loomed ahead of you, slightly larger than your home planet. From first glance, you were reminded of Jakku; swirls of tan and brown took most of the surface. But, as you drop into the atmosphere, large buttes of granite and sandstone become clear. Mando lands the Razor Crest in the shadow of one of those buttes and powers the ship down. 

“Alright, time to give you a run down on who we’re after first. His name is Shoan Harik, a low level bail jumper. He isn’t very violent, just skipped out after posting bail for running spice. First offence. We honestly might be able to walk up to him and put him in cuffs, but we should go over what you learned over the last few weeks just to be safe.”

You nod, heading to the cargo bay. Stepping into the fresher, you change into leather leggings, supple, grippy boots, and a light, long-sleeve shirt with a tan base layer tank top underneath. Using a leather strap, you tie your hair away from your face and take a look in the mirror. 

The person looking back at you is you… Almost. Even just a couple weeks of training has given you a glow; or maybe that was from whatever inner changes were happening. Your eyes are clear and determined. It was like looking through a filter, but definitely not in a bad way. 

You open the fresher door and step out to see Mando at the gun cabinet, grabbing your blaster. “Is this okay for hunting bad guys?” You gesture to the outfit.

“Well it isn’t always ‘bad guys’,” he starts, turning to look at you. As soon as the visor meets your eyes, he stops talking. 

“Everything okay?” You begin to feel self-conscious, reaching up to adjust your shirt. “I thought the boots would be good for any running we had to do and the shirt would be light but also keep me from getting a sunburn…”

“It’s, uh, great,” he clears his throat, shaking himself a little bit. “Smart thinking.”

“Thanks.” A little smile plays on your lips as you grab your thigh holster and begin strapping it on. Mando comes over and hands you your blaster; you slide it into it’s place and savor the comfortable weight. 

Mando finishes putting all his weapons in their places and locks the cabinet back up. He walks straight out of the cargo hold down the already open ramp and into the shadowed sand. You follow and adjust your bag as the ramp closes back up. 

“This is a good spot to run through your exercises before we head to the coordinates Tonis gave me.” 

Nodding, you remove your bag and begin stretching. It comes naturally to you now and, after they’re done, you move into punches. Then the few kicks Mando had a chance to teach you. He stands in front of you, slightly adjusting and correcting as needed, and you work up a sweat for another 10 or so minutes before he stops you. 

“Alright, now your blaster.”

Your hand finds the grip with ease and the blaster slips from its holster. Mando instructs you to aim at certain rocks and bushes and you oblige. Most of your shots hit and a feeling of pride swells in your chest. 

“You’re doing well,” Mando’s praise filling your chest even more, “but you still have a lot to learn. I’ll show you more after we find Shoan.”

“Then let’s go.” Determination again comes to the forefront and you slip your bag back over your shoulders. Mando takes the lead, heading away from the Crest and into the deserts of Pasaana.

- - - - - - - -

The sun is as uncomfortable as it was on Jakku, but the wind helps keep you cool as you and Mando walk toward a canyon. It towers over you, ledges and outcroppings dot the inner walls. Your eyes scour the nooks and crannies for clues or signs of life but, so far, the only things you see are gorpions and other desert bugs scurrying along the shadows and cracks. You repress a shiver every time one tries to head your way, but they always seem to change course and duck a different direction. 

Suddenly, a shot rings out and the blast kicks sand up about two feet to your left. Both you and Mando whip around, blasters pointed in the direction the shot came.

“You should go back to your ship, Mandalorian! And I won’t be joining you,” a voice echos off the canyon walls. 

“Show yourself Shoan!” Mando yells back, helmet searching. You assume there’s some sort of computer in there, helping him track the voice.

“Fat chance!” Shoan responds, “There’s no way you’re taking me!”

“Keep him talking,” Mando whispers to you, “If he keeps yelling I’ll be able to find him faster.”

You nod, choosing words quickly, “Shoan, we’re not here to hurt you.”

“Yeah, right! I know what Mandalorians do!”

“And what’s that?”

“They’re hunters!” An edge of fear creeps into the target’s voice, “He’s going to tell me that he’s just here to bring me in and then an ‘accident’ will happen and I’ll be sent back home in a casket!”

“I’m not sure where you learned about Mandalorians, but he really isn’t here to hurt you,” you look at Mando, confusion on your face. He doesn’t look back on you, focused on finding where Shoan is hiding.

Shoan scoffs, the sound carrying over the wind. “Sure. Whatever you say, girl.”

“I’m serious, just come talk to us and you’ll be safe.”

“And if I don’t?”

You don’t have an answer for him. “Have you found him yet?”

“Almost, just a minute more…”

“Shoan, listen to me. You have a chance here, a chance to make things right. Come with us and accept responsibility for what happened and start over.”

“I’m starting over here, if I go with you I won’t get that chance I’ll just go back to prison.” The emotion is still thick in his voice. 

“I know how scary it is to face your shortcomings and not know what the future looks like. I’m starting over, too, and I’m terrified. But you can either look at your life and keep going down a path you don’t like, or you can completely start over and build from a foundation of honesty and truth to who you want to be.” At this, Mando does look at you, and you look back at him. “Sometimes, it just takes someone believing in you for that change to begin.”

Mando nods at you and then jerks his head in what you assume to be Shoan’s direction. You nod back. 

“You don’t know me. You don’t know what my life was like. I can’t go back.” Shoan says. You and Mando creep in his direction. 

“You don’t have to go back to your old life, but you do have to take responsibility for what you did in that life. Once you’re done with that, you’ll have your entire new life ahead of you.” 

As you slowly move forward, you catch movement out of the corner of your eye. Blindingly fast, a person comes streaking out of a small cave toward Mando.

Without thinking, you spin in his direction and grab for his arm. Using his momentum you pull his hand behind his back, spinning him to face you. His fist comes toward your face and the world slows; you bring your wrist up inside his fist and sweep it away, just like Mando did that first day of training. Your other hand balls up and your fist makes impact on his stomach, knocking the wind out of him and pushing him back. As he’s stumbling, Mando swings around and kicks the back of his knees and he falls to the ground. In the 15 seconds this interaction has taken, Shoan went from rushing Mando to handcuffed on the ground. 

You’re panting next to Mando as he hauls Shoan to standing. “Nice work.”

“Thanks,” you reply, eyes on the bounty. “You okay, Shoan?”

“Why do you care?” he coughs, spitting sand out of his mouth, “You caught me. Can we go now?”

“We’re going,” Mando rumbles, tugging him along as you all head back to the Razor Crest. 

It’s hard not to skip as you walk, the pride in your work capturing Shoan making you feel lighter than air. Mando stomps on, almost dragging Shoan behind him. 

“We could slow down a little, Mando,” you comment, seeing the sweat drip from Shoan’s forehead. “We got him, he’s not going anywhere, let’s not kill him on the way back.”

He doesn’t say anything, but he does slow down. Shoan looks up at you curiously. “You know, you’re not what I expected out of a bounty hunter.”

“I’m not-” you start saying, but Mando interrupts you.

“Stop talking, we’re almost there.”

You give Shoan an “I don’t know” shrug and the three of you keep going in silence. 

The sun is nearly set by the time you make it to the Crest. Mando uses the buttons on his cuffs (“They’re called vambraces.”) to open the ramp and towes Shoan into the ship. You turn to admire the sunset when, suddenly, a loud hissing sound hits your ears. 

“Mando?” you call, running up the ramp into the darkness of the hold. Smoke fills the room and you hear a small whimper, which is suddenly cut off by another hiss.

“Mando!” your heart is racing, wishing you could see through the smoke. It begins to dissipate and your eyes adjust to a strange sight. 

Mando is standing in front of some sort of machine and, behind him, a metal plate hangs from a frame. Inside the plate…

“What did you do to Shoan?” you exclaim, rushing to the machine. Before you get a chance to make it there, Mando grabs your shoulders.

“Don’t touch it,” he pulls you away and spins you around, “I froze him in carbonite, he’s a flight risk.”

“I told him he was going to be safe, Mando, did you kill him?”

“No, it’s just carbon-freezing, he’ll be fine!”

You begin to calm but look over your shoulder at Shoan. His face is terrified, frozen in the whimper you heard on your way in. “He looks so scared…”

“He’ll be okay,” Mando releases you. “I’m sorry I didn’t warn you. I should’ve known you wouldn’t know what this was.”

You know the comment shouldn’t sting- of course you wouldn’t know what “carbon-freezing” was- but it still felt like just another thing he’d have to teach you about. Another in a long list of your gaps in knowledge. You give yourself a mental shake and step away from him. 

“Okay. Let’s just get him back to Tonis so he can get un-carbon-frozen.”

“We still have to find the other guy first. We’ll go back to Randon once we have both bounties.”

A heavy sigh escapes your lips as you walk past Mando to your cot. “Fine, then let’s get going.”

Mando follows behind you, closing the ramp and heading to the ladder. He stops and you feel his gaze on your back. 

“Hey, look at me,” he says, voice soft but serious. You straighten up and look at him. 

“Yeah?”

“You did well today,” his helmet stays fixed on you. “I didn’t even see him coming and you had him incapacitated before I even reacted.” 

“Not totally, he would’ve gotten the upper hand on me.”

“Don’t minimize your accomplishments. You helped me take him down safely and quickly. You did good. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome, Mando.” He gives you a small nod before ascending to the cockpit. 

You don’t join him, opting instead to settle into your cot. Sitting criss-cross, you pull a book out of your bag and begin to read. Or, rather, try to read. Your eyes skim the words but you don’t really take any meaning from them as your mind starts to wander. 

The day’s events play back through your mind, jumping from moment to moment. The thrill of tussling with Shoan, the sunset on Pasaana, the memory of your face in the mirror, the pause in Mando’s words when you walked out of the fresher… They wind and blur faster and faster. You don’t even notice the whir of the engines as Mando pilots the Razor Crest out of the desert and back into space.

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