Chapter Text
It took a while to settle into life with the Mandalorian. The Razor Crest, a pre-Imperial relic, had been built for more than one man. An old copilot's seat remained in the cockpit, but you guessed that prior to the arrival of the child, it had been little used. Unfortunately at some point in the ship’s history, the extra bunks had been removed, probably to make way for Mando’s carbonite freezing chamber.
The sleeping situation was (somewhat) easily rectified. Mando had handed you an armful of blankets and a thin camping mattress on your first night of the ship and directed you towards the cargo hold. And sure, you’d really rather not be sleeping on top of some crates with the frozen quarries watching you, but you didn’t really have any other options. Mando had established very quickly that he was a very private guy. There was no way you were going to risk encroaching on that by asking to use his bunk every once in a while.
The rest of it was not so easily sorted. The man himself was obviously unused to having another person underfoot all the time. You’d gathered on Tatooine (oh, you thought longingly of that cramped little sofa bed now) that the kid was a recent addition to his life. You took up much more space.
And you were around, All. The. Time. After a few days of prolonged silences, you had tentatively tried making conversation. Starting with the basics - where were you going (Jakku), how long had the kid been travelling with him (a month), how old was the kid, bouncing on your knee (“Fifty.” “Fifty?!”). Did he have a name? (No). Was the kid his?
Except there you tripped over your words, mind-numbed by the game of twenty questions with one-word answers the two of you were apparently playing, and actually asked:
“Are you green too?”
Mando had stared at you in silence until you could feel the fire burning in your very red, very embarrassed cheeks.
“Sorry - I - It’s just, your kid is pretty green, so…”
“He’s a foundling.”
“Oh.”
“I’m human.”
“Right - of course. Yeah.” Way to look like a fucking idiot in front of your new employer.
Honestly, you were relieved when you finally landed and Mando left to find a job.
The cramped space of the Razor Crest felt less claustrophobic without the brooding lump of beskar in it. Your first day without the Mandalorian was spent chasing the kid around the ship, as you explored every corner of it in various games of hide and seek. When it came time to sleep, the child was restless, obviously uncomfortable without the protective presence of the Mandalorian around. You couldn’t blame him. Long after he’d gone to sleep in his little hammock above Mando’s bunk, you’d lain awake on your makeshift bed, listening to every creak of the durasteel, every hiss of the settling mechanics, every rustle from outside. In the end the haunting faces of the quarries trapped in carbonate chased you out of your bed and up to the cockpit where you slept fitfully, wrapped in a blanket on the uncomfortable old chair.
You settled into somewhat of a routine over the next few weeks. Mando would be in and out, hunting quarries and taking on odd jobs in local neighbourhoods. You spent your time minding the child, playing with him, reading to him, feeding him. You were never sure how much basic he understood - at times seeming to wilfully ignore you - but you talked to him all the time anyway. When you were bored you poked around deep within the ship, fixing up what you could with limited resources.
When you landed on a quiet planet, Mando would sometimes let you explore with the kid while he was off working. You spent many a pleasant afternoon chasing the kid through quiet meadows and even one woodland glade. Something deep in your chest eased with the first sight of greenery after your long year on Tatooine. Dank farrik though, that kid would eat anything it could get its hands on. Frogs and all things similar were its favourite. Twice, Mando had returned to find you holding a frog out of the kid’s reach while you hurriedly scrolled through the data pad to check it wasn’t going to poison him - a task made that much harder by the kid’s force-sensitivity. It took all your strength to hang onto those slippery little legs when the child put up a fight.
Most of your forays into the galaxy’s hustle and bustle during those early weeks were limited to supply runs with Mando hovering like a heavy shadow by your shoulder. You found it exciting anyway. While you had travelled in your years as a Defense pilot, you rarely got to touch down in places that weren’t securely controlled by the New Republic, and never for fun. The orange flight suit had always marked you out as a target.
Moving through the colourful crowded markets was a different game with the Mandalorian. On your own you blended in, the dark grey of your flight suit suggesting you were nothing but another offworlder, with a pair of large green ears protruding from your satchel. Mando, head to toe shining silver, often stood out like a sore thumb. If he was recognised, it was usually as a threat. His silent presence had made many a barter much easier for you.
The two of you gradually adjusted to sharing the tight space of the Crest. You still felt awkward creeping out of the cramped (and complicated - how many species was that toilet designed for?!) refresher wrapped in just your towel, when Mando was sat in his bunk, cleaning his armour. But you had learnt to work around just about everything else. The basic rules of the Mandalorian creed - the helmet never comes off - were easy enough to gather after a few questions, and you knew to leave Mando his space as far as possible, taking the kid down to the cargo hold to eat with you.
In turn, Mando slowly got used to your desire to chat, gradually replying more and more. Sure, you still mostly talked about the kid. But when asked, Mando started telling you what he knew about the planets you were travelling to. His past was still out of bounds, not that you pressed for it, but every so often an anecdote from a previous job would slip through and surprise you. You gathered enough to know that he’d been various forms of bounty hunter and muscle-for-hire since he’d come of age. When that was, you weren’t exactly sure. It was hard to guess how old he was under that armour.
The thing that had surprised you the most was his sense of humour. Even as the two of you relaxed around each other, you’d half expected Mando to maintain that cool, silent professionalism that he’d projected when you first met. It was to your absolute delight that you were made party to some very entertaining observations on the creatures around you one evening when you were both sitting idle in a small-world cantina. You immediately adopted it as your personal mission to eke more of that humour out of him, though it was rare and always unexpected when he did.
The biggest thing you learnt about Mando in those first few weeks was just how deeply he cared about the kid. He was the first thing Mando would check in on when he returned from a job. When you needed a break or time to shower, he’d very happily take the child from you, sitting him on his beskar clad knee. The bond between them was obviously very deep. The kid definitely liked you, but it was his dad (could you call him that? You did, anyway, when Mando wasn’t around) that he looked to for everything. Especially if he didn’t want to comply with your instructions. Sometimes, you’d slip off down to your cargo hold, and leave them to it. The gentle way Mando handled the kid, smoothing a gloved thumb over his little forehead, tugged at your heartstrings in a way that made them ache.
Three weeks into your employment as the Mandalorian’s babysitter-engineer, he’d taken a job on the lower levels of Coruscant. If there was one place in this galaxy that you’d wanted to explore, it was Coruscant. Your childhood had been filled with your mother’s tales of the tall shining skyscrapers, the elegant elites, and the wild fun that could be found on the fringes of the mid levels. Had Mando asked (which, unsurprisingly, he hadn’t), you could have listed off the top of your head all the sights you wanted to see.
But Mando had landed the Crest on one of the lowest levels of the city. He’d left you with strict instructions not to open the ramp for anyone, under any circumstances. You were disappointed but complied. You’d heard enough whispered tales of the lower levels not to risk it. And Mando had seemed unusually tense before he left. He’d even given you a run through of the weapons in his locker as a precaution, recommending one of the simpler blasters in case you needed it. (You had already thoroughly explored the collection when he was out on a previous job. As a fighter pilot you hadn’t been trained in more than basic close quarters combat and blaster use, but you knew enough to know he had some powerful firepower in there.) You had a feeling that had you not been running short on credits, with three mouths to feed and no more guild accreditation, Mando would have avoided bringing the kid to such a populous place.
It was late on your second day cooped up in the Crest, Coruscant afternoon drifting into early evening, when it happened. You’d been sitting at your makeshift workstation in the cargo hold, fiddling with the wiring on the comms unit you'd brought with you from Tatooine. The kid was fast asleep. You’d discovered he slept best in the sling when Mando was out, curled up against your chest. It was kinda cute really, his little face screwed up in a dream, mouth open and drool soaking a little damp circle on your shirt. Well, that wasn't so cute, but the way his little fist held onto your shirt even in his sleep was.
The peace was disturbed by the noise of someone trying the lock mechanism on the Crest's ramp. Call it sixth sense, call it five years of military training, call it the knowledge that if that truly was Mando returning, he really wouldn't be taking multiple goes to open the door - a feeling stirred deep in your gut and had you reaching for your blaster before edging into the shadows just out of the ramp's line of sight.
The ramp slowly opened with a hiss of the hydraulics. You held your breath, pressing your back into the wall.
“This is definitely his ship.”
Three people stood at the entrance to the ship with blasters ready in their hands. The one to the left was definitely a Gran, the one to the right a Rodian, and the one in the centre you suspected was a Trandoshan.
“Do you think he left the kid here?” The Rodian asked.
“Must have.” The Trandoshan replied. “He didn’t have it with him.”
You hoped to the maker Mando was alright. And somewhere nearby.
The three bounty hunters started cautiously up the ramp. There was no time to hide, not properly. The kid had woken up to the hammering of your heart and gurgled softly. “Shhh”, you whispered, untying the sling and silently placing him down behind you.
Heart pounding, you took a step forward and raised your blaster.
“Now what do you think you’re doing?” You said loudly, holding your voice steady and authoritatively.
The bounty hunters paused, taking you in. Their surprise told you they hadn’t expected you to be there. All three raised their blasters in your direction. You lined your blaster to hit the Trandoshan who was apparently their leader. He was a head taller than the Rhodian - and a head taller than you.
The Trandoshan smirked. “We’re here to collect a quarry. Stand aside and we won’t have to hurt you.”
You adjusted your grip on your blaster, keeping it aloft.
“What makes you think they’re here? I’m the only one on this ship.”
The Tradoshan smirk broadened into a menacing grin as the Gran pulled out a tracking fob, the red like blinking fast. “We know he’s here.” It said.
You stared them down. At best, maybe, you could take two of them out, if you were quick - and lucky.
A sudden spurt of blaster fire from outside the ship broke the tense pause. The Gran fell to the floor with a heavy thump. The Tradoshan and Rodian both turned to look behind them, the Tradoshan whipping out a second blaster and pointing it at their assailant while keeping the other one trained on you. There was a flash as the light bounced off shining armour.
Mando.
“I thought you said he was busy!” The Rodian hissed.
“He was!” The Tradoshan hissed back.
“Drop your weapons.” Came the familiar voice, lowered.
“How ‘bout you drop yours, Mando, and we’ll let this pretty young thing of yours go free?” the Tradoshan sneered.
You didn’t think twice.
You pulled the trigger.
The Tradoshan dropped to his knees with a startled grunt. You’d hit him square in the chest.
Mando fired a second round into his head before he could fire at either of you. The Rodian wheezed with panic, firing wild shots that bounced off the beskar armour. Mando took him out in a heartbeat, his body collapsing onto the others, green head rolling loose on his shoulders.
“All okay?” He asked you.
“All okay.” You echoed, taking a deep breath.
You span around. Two big green ears hesitantly emerged from where they’d been hiding under the fabric of the discarded sling. “All okay kiddo.” You smiled. “Your daddy got here just in time.”
You glanced over your shoulder to see Mando freeze in his ascent of the ramp. He looked at you, the helmet giving nothing away.
Kriff, what had you said? “Sorry - should I not -”
“No.” He replied shortly. “Don’t call me that.”
You nodded. “Understood.”
Together you and Mando dragged the bodies off the ramp. They were heavy and unwieldy, slick skins clammy beneath your hands. You stumbled trying to keep up with Mando’s efficient strength and speed.
When the last one was off, bodies in a heap by your landing station, you stood back for a moment, wiping your hands on your trousers as you caught your breath. Mando checked them over one last time, pocketing the credits they had carried. He straightened too and then turned to look at you.
“Are you hurt?” He suddenly said, stepping towards you. The urgency in his voice took you by surprise.
“What?”
Mando’s gloved fingers reached forward and gently stroked a circle of dark, damp cloth on your chest. You looked down at it bewildered, before he grabbed your collar, pulling you forward under the street light for a better look. You were suddenly very aware of how close you stood to him, your attention consumed by the feeling of his hand brushing your collar bone where it gripped your shirt and his fingers that hovered gently beside the damp patch above your breast. Your skin burned beneath his touch. You stood frozen for a minute before your brain caught up with his question.
“Oh - Oh! No, no I’m fine. The child was drooling on me in his sleep. It's just uh - little green thing spit.”
You stared at the dark slit in the beskar helm in front of you, as Mando remained frozen a moment longer, his head tilted down to watch the rise and fall of your chest beneath his hands. You could feel the temperature rise in your face as you started to blush. Was he… staring at your tits?
Mando pushed you away, taking a step back and diverting his gaze. He cleared his throat roughly, avoiding meeting your eyes.
“Right. We better get moving. I doubt those are the only bounty hunters on Coruscant who want a piece of us.”
Your brain felt like it was still running half a second behind, the ghost of Mando’s touch still burning on your chest.
“Uh… Yes. Okay. I’ll fly us out of here while you…” You glanced at the blood smeared across his cuirass. “Clean up.”
Mando just nodded, turning away and marching up the ramp into the Crest. You jogged after him, closing the ramp behind you and scooping up the kid before climbing up into the cockpit.
You buckled yourself into the pilot’s seat, quickly firing up the Crest’s engines and manoeuvring her out of the tight bay in which you were parked. Mando joined you as you navigated your way out of the busy Coruscant airspace, lifting the child out of your lap and buckling him into the passenger seat before taking the copilot seat himself. He began punching the coordinates for your next location into the nav system.
As you cleared the planet’s atmosphere, the Crest’s radar began to bleep, alerting you to three ships hot on your tail. A quick scan told you they were neither Defence X-wings nor Coruscant police. You swore under your breath.
“Looks like you were right about the other bounty hunters.” You muttered.
“Can you go into -” Mando began, but you cut him off.
“Not yet. The ‘drive’s still powering up. You really need to get that thing upgraded.”
Mando hummed in agreement.
The Crest strained as you forced it to speed up, as the ships drew close enough to begin firing on you. The leather of Mando’s gloves creaked as he gripped his chair.
“Hey - I’ve got this.” You reassured him, eyes on the space before you. “I used to do this professionally, remember?”
You quickly turned the ship down to the left, pulling out of the line of fire. The smaller ships followed hot on your tail.
The comms unit leapt into life. “Hand over the child, Mando. We know you have it.”
The blaster fire skimmed over the top of the Crest as you swerved suddenly.
“Careful.” Mando growled.
“Doing my best captain.” You shot back.
The ships behind you began to diverge, one remaining close on your tail, while the others moved to come at you from the sides. A smile slid onto your cheeks. Just what you had hoped they’d do.
You held course for a few extra moments, letting the ships settle into position and begin heading back in towards you.
You quickly tugged the ship to the right, lining up head on with one of the ships and barrelling towards it. The other two pulled in close to your tail.
“What are you -”
You could see their faces light up behind the transparisteel as you flew in close. Like a sitting duck you were sailing fast into their web, surrounded on three sides as the ships closed in.
“Y/N.” Mando growled. “What are you doing?!”
You could see the route before you, clear as day.
"Dank farrik! It’s too tight!” Mando suddenly swore, catching onto your plan. “You won’t make it. You can’t make that move in this ship." His voice was strained with panic.
"No, you can't. I can."
It was your signature move. Built on your years of pod racing on Malastare, those quick reflexes from ducking through trees and rocks, you’d honed it over the years, recklessly flying X-wings through tight spots that had landed you in disciplinary action multiple times. It had also made you a legend among your comrades.
At the last possible second, you cut the Crest’s engines for a heartbeat, suddenly dropping down and out of the firing line, before flicking them back on and kicking in to a clean swerve away. Behind you, two of the ships exploded into a ball of fire as they collided, pilots caught off guard by your sudden move and unable to alter their course until it was too late.
The third ship narrowly scraped past the explosion in a scrambled swoop up into the sky, away from the Razor Crest.
As you pulled the ship to rights, you could feel the warm glow of satisfaction spread through your body, arms straining at the controls. Still got it.
The Mandalorian was breathless at your side. “Never,” he growled, “Never pull that shit again.”
You let a cocky grin spread across your cheeks. “Told you I could do it.”
The comms unit crackled beside you.
“Now I know of only one pilot in the galaxy who could pull off a move that ballsy. You don’t happen to have a y/n l/n behind your controls, do you?” A voice you hadn’t heard in years came through the speaker, as the other craft righted and caught back onto your tail.
You sighed, motioning to Mando to flip the switch to transmit. “Red-ten.”
“It is you! Gold-five. Long time no see! I’d heard you left the Defence. Have to say, this isn’t where I expected to find you.”
“No?” You yanked on the controls, swerving out of their firing line and attempting to shake them off your tail.
“No… What was it you said when I left to join the guild…” You could hear the nerfherder’s smug grin as his craft remained tight on your tails. It just had to be him on your tail, didn’t it? The two of you had had a fierce rivalry in your starfighter training days, pushing each other to pull increasingly risky tricks in the mock dog-fights. If there was anyone who could have escaped the collision you set up, it would have been him.
“That you were a piece of shit scumbag who cared more about the money than the cause of the violence he was committing?” You spat through gritted teeth, eyes scanning the open space ahead of you, calculating your next move.
“That was it! And now, here you are, what - pilot to a bounty hunter? A criminal one at that. Do you have any idea what this guy has done for the money?”
His attention was on his gloating tirade, you knew it. From what you could see, he'd only gotten meaner since leaving the Defence. Meaner, and slower. You quickly pulled the Crest straight up and into a backwards loop, as Red-ten shot through beneath you to find himself in front of your guns.
You lined his ship up in the crosshairs, muscle memory itching at the triggers. “Still haven’t learnt when to shut up have you, Red-ten?”
“Where-”
You fired.
The ship in front of you blew up. A puff ball of fire and smoke, quickly swallowed by the vacuum of space.
You couldn't help the instinctive smile that spread across your face, nor the familiar old thrill that ran through your body.
"Good shot!" Mando said, leaning forward from the copilot seat to watch. "Better go into hyperdrive before anyone else tries to catch us."
You checked the route mapped onto the nav system and then flipped the requisite switches. The hyperdrive finally powered up and then, with a stomach churning jolt, the ship shot off. You sat there for a moment, the smile sliding off your face as the adrenaline of the chase faded. Your palms itched faintly where you had gripped the juddering controls and a familiar feeling of discomfort began to spread throughout your limbs.
"Peli wasn't lying."
"What?" You glanced at Mando in confusion.
"You are a good pilot." He sounded impressed behind the beskar helmet.
You hummed noncommittally and forced a weak half smile. You could feel the wave building inside, blocking your diaphragm and filling your lungs. This always happened after - this was why you had stopped. This feeling - this choking, this disgust, this feeling like you needed to stand under the refresher for an hour, sloughing every layer of your skin off in the hope that it might let you escape the crawling discomfort of sitting in your own body after the actions you had just committed.
You forced yourself to take deep breaths, holding your facial expression neutral. Show no weakness. Show no weakness. Mando was a hardened killer, all business. He’d probably fire you on the spot if he knew you’d have a meltdown every time you had to man the ship’s guns. Once upon a time you hadn’t. You’d been good at this. Known you were good. Why weren’t you still? Why couldn’t you keep it together after one little dogfi-
"Are you okay?" The modulated voice cut through your spiral.
You glanced over, startled. Mando was watching you steadily, watching your hands clench in your lap.
You gave yourself a shake. "Yeah - yeah." Forced a weak smile. "I think I need a shower after that."
Mando nodded. "I'll watch the kid."
"Thanks." You lurched up from the seat, legs jelly like beneath you. You could feel Mando’s gaze follow you, but you didn’t look back to meet it. Your focus was on getting out of there before the wave inevitably crashed over you. You didn't want to do this in front of him. Couldn’t do this in front of him.
You slid down the ladder from the cockpit, immediately turning left, away from the refresher and towards the darkness of the cargo hold you called your "room". You pounded the switch with a weak fist, the door closing with a hiss behind you as you sank to the floor, your knees hugged into your chest and back to the wall.
You pressed the heels of your palms into your closed eyes, watched the coloured stars burst behind your eyelids. Consciously focused on your breathing. In. Out. In. Out. The wave rose, no matter how hard you fought it, filling your lungs and slowly crashing over your head until you were choking out sobs, the tears stinging in your eyes as you tried to fight them from falling.
All you could see was his face, that bright cocky eighteen year old who used to wind you up til you couldn’t stand to be in the same room as him. The way you could see the amusement clear in his eyes as he needled you incessantly over your backwater beginnings. Your friends in the cantina, reassuring you he was just feeling threatened by your talent, as his laughter rang in your ears. The day you’d pulled that move for the first time, beating him fair and square. The wobble in his voice from the panic over the comms. The way he’d clapped you on the back as you stood in the hangar after, congratulating you with a sincerity the old mocking tone couldn’t mask.
The night you’d found him sitting under his ship in the hangar, after Red-five, his rumoured girlfriend, had died in one of the first real firefights you’d all flown in. The way he’d flinched away from you, reluctant to show weakness, even then. He’d refused your offer of company. The way his body had been shaking haunted your dreams for weeks.
He’d been nastier after that. Aggressive when he caught the sympathy in your eyes. He’d toyed with your roommate, Sara, for months, eventually breaking her heart when he quit to join the guild of bounty hunters. That was the night you had chewed him out, snapping after months of mopping up her tears. She died on a mission a few weeks later and you hadn’t seen him again, until tonight.
The memory of all those years, those years spent cheering after clean shots like the one you’d hit Red-ten with tonight, made you feel nauseous. You had all felt proud of yourselves, proud of every enemy craft that you’d taken out. In your last year with the Defense, the lines of battle had fallen out from underneath you. Every ship you’d shot down was another person - another Red-ten, another Gold-three (no, No! Don’t go there) - snuffed out. One day you’d woken up with the question of why? Why? burning in your chest. From that moment, it was all over. You’d promised yourself, sworn to the Maker, to the stars and back, that you wouldn’t do this again. That you wouldn’t find yourself behind the controls of a ship, firing on another, until you were sure you knew why you were doing it.
Logically - logically you were protecting the child. And the Mandalorian. And yourself. Not something wrong. Just doing - doing your job.
But you had always just been doing your job.
The quiet hiss of the door opening announced Mando’s presence. You held your breath, then released it slowly, steadying yourself but not moving from where you sat on the floor, your back against the wall. He stood in the doorway, the light from the hall pooling around his shadow.
“Are you okay?” The modulated voice broke the silence.
You just breathed for a moment. “Fine.” You said, fighting to keep your voice steady.
“Are you sure?”
You grit your teeth. Why was he here? What did he care? Couldn’t he just leave you to it - to decompress however you saw fit?
“Just dandy.”
“You don’t have to do this.”
You glanced up at him sharply, the beskar helm giving nothing away.
“I can drop you at the next planet with a passenger transport link. You have no obligation to me or the kid. I warned you it would be like this - if you’re not up to it, you don’t have to stay.”
You looked away, glaring at the cargo crates in front of you. There it was. He did think you were weak. You were weak and a liability and he wanted rid of you - he wanted rid of you. But - but you had nowhere to go. You didn’t - you didn’t have anywhere -
“I’m fine. It’s nothing I haven’t done before.” You bit out, voice hard.
Mando nodded. “If you’re sure.”
You forced down another painful sob that was rising in your throat, hands moving to cover your eyes again. Your cheeks were damp beneath your palms. Come on, come ON. You were fighting so hard to pull yourself together. Ultra cool professional Mando didn’t think you were up to the job, come on, you needed to show him you were. You could handle this, you could. Couldn’t you?
Mando had had a feeling you weren’t headed for the shower. He’d seen that response in ex-soldiers and pilots before. You’d obviously left the Defence for some reason - he’d assumed disciplinary, but watching the colour drain out of your face after the chase he realised there may be a different story there. You were obviously an excellent pilot.
He’d felt a need to check on you. Make sure you weren’t in some trauma driven rampage, destroying his supplies. Make sure you weren’t regretting your decision to join him. Peli certainly hadn’t exaggerated your talents, but he didn’t want you to feel trapped into something you’d evidently tried to leave behind.
The tears he did not know what to do with.
“It’s always harder when it’s someone you know.” He offered gently, the modulator making his voice crackle, as he stood awkwardly beside you, unsure of what to do.
The dam broke, and the tears began to slip down your cheeks again. “I - I never liked him anyway.” You whispered. “It’s just - it’s different isn’t it? When it’s not for a cause. No… no reason.”
“It was a question of survival.” He replied evenly. “If you hadn’t taken him out, he’d have taken out us and the kid.”
You exhaled slowly, shakily. There was no point debating it. You already knew you couldn’t find the answers you were seeking.
There was a noise as the kid, left somewhere up in the cockpit, began to cry out. Mando sighed and rested a heavy hand on your shoulder. “I’ll deal with it.”
“Sorry.” You whispered. The hand lifted.
“Get some rest.” He said, closing the door behind him.