MooseClan

The Mandalorian Medics helped Niva the best they could, physically. Nothing could help her recover from what happened; watching her father, her buir, die right in front of her, and she could do nothing. 

Kal shifted his weight from his right foot onto his left, his shattered ankle screaming at him. His sand colored beskar’gam reflects the sun just right that there appears to be a halo encircling his body, the light at the end of the tunnel for Niva. He waited outside the medical tent for a while with his arms crossed, pacing back and forth every once in a while. 

Poor girl…

The medic - Gale? - pushes aside the tent flap and walks out onto the firm ground of Central Mandalore’s terrain. Gale looks at Kal, giving him a small reassuring smile and nod. “Did my best, Skirata. She’ll make it.” 

“That…That’s great. Any permanent damage?” Kal asks, his brow furrowing. 

“None that I can see… You know, she has a lot of Cabur in her. Just like her buir, eh?” Gale grins, patting Kal’s shoulder, and walks over to the center of the camp, talking with his vode.  

Kal’s footfalls are nearly silent as he slips through the tent flaps. The tent is dim, a small lantern illuminates a small area by Niva’s bedside. A thin, portable, wooden floor is all that separates Niva’s little sleeping bag from the dense clay soil. 

Thick gauze is wrapped around her sternum, cords and wires hang from tabs on her wrists and chest. The heavy, cloying scent of bacta fills the tent. Kal glances at Niva’s half open duffel bag, which she insisted Kal take with them. 

“Why is it so cold?” Niva’s quiet voice fills the tent. Kal laughs, coming over to sit on the floor beside her. 

“We’re in Central Mandalore. Up north, ad’ika,” Kal says, the nickname flowing off his tongue so naturally. He fixes the blanket lazily draped over Niva. 

“Can I ask you something?” 

“Of course.”

“How did Buir die? He always gets into fights… Why did this one kill him?”

Kal sighs, “Gale, the medic, told me that his rib punctured his heart. You know, ad’ika, even if you’re in the safest, toughest box in the entire galaxy and you’re hit tons of times, that doesn’t mean being rattled up in that box can’t hurt you.” 

Niva looks away, blinking back tears; her long lashes clumping together from the wetness. 

“And why am I alive?” She asks. 

“That little necklace, made of pure beskar. The blast hit you between the collarbones, but that little scrap of iron saved your life, ad’ika.” That does it for Niva. Her eyes brim with tears, her throat begins to tighten. The heavy feeling of grief, loneliness, survivors guilt, all coming back to her. 

“Buir g-gave me that…” 

“I… I’m sorry, ad’ika. You know… I lost my dad, too. Before becoming a mando, that is,” Kal whispers, carefully adjusting one of Niva’s many curls. 

“I’m sorry.”

“Nah, don’t worry about it.” The two quietly talk together, Kal telling Niva about the origin of his three sided knife in exchange for Niva telling him about her necklace, the metal tree now bent at an awkward angle. 

“Do you have any other family?” Kal asks after a while. 

Niva doesn’t respond right away, only looking to a corner of the tent instead. She says softly, “No.” That’s the biggest lie she’s ever told, but she can’t go back to that village. An already unstable woman, now grieving the loss of her husband… Not a good mix. 

“Alright… You can stay with me, if you-”

“Please, can I, Kal?” Niva cuts him off, her wide green eyes staring intensely into Kal’s.

“‘Course, ad’ika. Anything,” 

Two years later. 

Kamino was damp. No, it was more than damp: it was nothing but storm-whipped sea from pole to pole. The air smelled more like a hospital than a military base. 

Niva, now 16, steps close to the window separating the corridor she and Kal’buir are currently waiting in and the vast chamber of what looked to be large toroids stacked on wide pillars. 

In the past two years, Kal became Niva’s surrogate father, showing his love by telling her to call him Kal’buir - Papa Kal. He could never replace Cabur as her father, they both knew that. Yet the empty, painful hole left in Niva’s heart was slowly filled in by the presence of her Papa Kal. 

This was a mistake. Taking Niva, of all people, here. We might not leave for… For years! Jango’s gonna owe me s-

“Kal’buir… Look at the towers,” Niva says, interrupting Kal’s thoughts. 

“I don’t see anything, ad’ika.”  

“No, k’olar. Closer.” 

Kal sighs and steps beside Niva, who’s nearly as tall as him, although that isn’t saying much since he’s shorter than the average man. 

“There’s… There’s babies in those tubes, Kal…” 

Glossary & Pronunciation

Beskar'gam - Mandalorian armor [bes-car-gum] (I think). Buir - dad/mom [boo-ear] Vode - brothers/sisters/comrades [vod-ay]. (I think) Ad'ika - little one, son, daughter of any age [ah-dee-kah] Beskar - Mandalorian iron [bes-car] Kal'buir - Papa Kal [Kal-boo-ear] K'olar - come here [ko-lar]

Taglist: @fionajames @sevdidntdie @will-is-silly @hellhound5925 @skellymom @dangraccoon @the-rain-on-kamino(<- maybe you're interested?)