@grace262 - Tumblr Blog

Jun 7

Beskar and Light - Part 6

Somewhat filler but I love domestic Mando. This chapter lowkey came to me while listening to Wanna Be Yours in the car, not that its related in any way but my mind works in mysterious ways.

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5

Mando / Din Djarin x afab! Former Jedi Reader

Warnings: canon typical violence, trauma, PTSD, dark side corruption, possessive behavior, angst, emotional repression, complicated relationships, canon-typical weapons/bounty hunting, age gap, eventual smut. MDNI.

Corellia's spaceports were somehow even busier than she remembered. Then again, the last time she was here could have been 10 years ago for all she remembered.

Most worlds she'd visited over the last few years had been places people passed through. Refuelling stations. Frontier settlements. Hidden outposts. Temporary destinations occupied by people already thinking about where they needed to be next. Corellia felt different. People lived here. They built lives here. The closer the Crest descended toward the city, the more obvious it became.

The Razor Crest touched down amid a sea of ships arriving and departing in every direction. Freighters occupied entire rows of landing platforms while smaller civilian craft threaded confidently between them, guided by invisible traffic patterns that only seemed to make sense to the people flying them. Even before the ramp lowered she could hear the distant hum of thousands of people existing alongside one another.

A New Republic transport was already waiting by the time the carbonite slab containing their strategist was lowered onto a repulsor sled. Several officials moved in immediately, confirming identities, exchanging authorisation codes and verifying transfer orders with the kind of bureaucratic efficiency that suggested nobody wanted to be responsible for losing him.

Grogu had already wandered to the edge of the landing platform, standing on tiptoe to peer over a safety barrier at the endless activity below. She scooped him up before curiosity convinced him to explore the entire spaceport on his own and settled him onto her hip.

"You're not escaping that easily."

The child made a noise of protest.

"That's exactly what somebody planning an escape would say."

She was still arguing with him when Mando finally reappeared. Whatever paperwork the New Republic required had apparently been completed because the officials were already preparing the strategist popsicle for transport.

The whole process felt strangely anticlimactic after everything it had taken to get the strategist out.

"Done?" she asked.

"Done."

That was apparently all the summary she was getting before he was heading back up the Crest's ramp.

Grogu immediately disappeared toward the cockpit. Probably intending to pilot another ship he had absolutely no business piloting. She followed more slowly, settling into the co-pilot's seat while Mando powered up the systems.

The engines rumbled beneath them. Outside, the landing pad began sliding past. Automatically, she reached for the restraints.

Mission complete.

Corellia was behind them. Except several minutes passed and Corellia remained very much in front of them.

The Crest continued moving through the spaceport without ever joining the departure traffic. Instead they crossed between rows of docking berths and maintenance hangars before eventually turning into a section occupied by parked ships.

She watched through the viewport as Mando guided the Crest into an empty berth and powered down the engines.

For a moment neither of them moved.

Then she frowned, "We break something?"

"No."

"Need repairs?"

"No."

She glanced back toward the spaceport.

Workers crossed between docking bays carrying supplies. A family disappeared into a nearby restaurant. Several crews were unloading cargo from a freighter parked three berths away.

"We're staying?"

"Just until tomorrow."

"Oh."

The response escaped before she could stop it.

Mando paused halfway through shutting down the final systems.

"Hmm?"

She considered lying then decided there wasn't much point.

"I just assumed we'd leave."

"The city's got decent stores."

That was explanation enough for him.

A moment later her datapad chimed. She pulled it out absentmindedly.

Then stopped. The number staring back at her looked absurd.

Her head lifted slowly.

"What did you do?"

Mando had already risen from his seat.

"What?"

"You transferred credits to me."

"Yes."

She stared at him.

"You transferred a lot of credits to me."

"Your share."

"Mando, this is insane."

"You were on the job."

"I was helping."

The discussion was clearly going nowhere.

Not because she lacked points, because Mando had already decided the matter. There was no uncertainty in him. No internal debate. No concern that she might refuse. The money was hers. That was the beginning and end of it.

"You didn't have to do that."

The helmet tilted slightly.

From the floor below, Grogu called impatiently.

The child had apparently decided everyone else was taking too long.

Mando started toward the ladder.

"Come on."

She slipped the pad into her pocket and followed.

"Where are we going?"

"The market."

That made sense, a big pay day probably meant a big restock. She reached the bottom of the ladder just in time to hear him add:

"You need gear."

The smile arrived before she could stop it.

Of course, this entire detour was because she'd walked into an Imperial facility wearing a cloak and apparently given him several years worth of stress in the process.

The walk from the docking berths into the city took considerably less time than she'd expected.

Spaceports occupied a strange place in most settlements. They tended to exist slightly apart from everything else, as though local governments had collectively agreed that starships were somebody else's problem. Corellia appeared to have ignored that tradition entirely. The streets beyond the docks were already crowded. Shops lined both sides of the thoroughfare while streams of pedestrians moved confidently between them. The smell of street food drifted through the air from somewhere ahead, competing with engine exhaust and the lingering scent of machine oil from the nearby landing platforms.

Grogu stopped walking three separate times in the span of a minute.

The first interruption involved a vendor selling brightly coloured sweets.

The second involved a toy shop.

The third appeared to involve absolutely nothing at all.

The child simply froze in the middle of the pavement and stared through a shop window with the sort of complete concentration usually reserved for solving ancient mysteries.

She followed his gaze to a display containing decorative lamps.

"That's what caught your attention?"

Grogu pointed as one of the lamps slowly changed colour.

The child nodded as though this explained everything.

"Fair enough."

They continued onward.

At least, they continued onward until Grogu discovered another distraction approximately thirty metres later.

Ahead of them, Mando never broke stride. Years of experience had apparently taught him that resisting Grogu's curiosity was pointless. The child would either catch up eventually or be retrieved once he wandered too far.

The strategy seemed surprisingly effective.

The crowds thickened as they moved deeper into the commercial district. Workers occupied outdoor seating areas between shifts. Families browsed market stalls together. Several students sat around a fountain arguing over something with enough passion to suggest it was either philosophy or complete nonsense. Every storefront seemed to contain objects nobody strictly needed but had apparently purchased anyway.

That was the part she found herself noticing.

A woman stepped out of a shop carrying a bundle of fresh flowers. Another passed them balancing several books beneath one arm. Someone else emerged from a homeware store with a new kettle tucked under their shoulder.

The purchases themselves weren't particularly interesting. The assumptions behind them was. People bought flowers because they expected to have somewhere to put them. People bought kettles because they expected to make tea tomorrow. The thought arrived uninvited and lingered longer than she would have liked.

Grogu in the meantime had already been distracted by at least six more things. The latest appeared to be a shop displaying flight equipment.

The child stopped so abruptly that she nearly walked into him.

Most of the merchandise was designed for civilian pilots, but one corner had been dedicated entirely to children. Tiny flight jackets hung from miniature mannequins while brightly coloured navigation kits and toy control yokes occupied the lower shelves.

The first thing Grogu noticed was the pair of child-sized flight goggles resting near the centre of the display.

The child glanced between her and the current object of his desires.

There wasn't a manipulative bone in his body and frankly, he didn't need one.

"Oh, these are cute."

Grogu nodded enthusiastically.

Somewhere behind them, Mando continued walking.

"In here."

The child-sized flight goggles were forgotten for the moment when the Mandalorian disappeared into the larger shop next door.

She sighed, "Come on little man"

Picking up the child, she followed behind the suit of beskar.

The interior looked exactly like the sort of place Mando would love and she would normally avoid. Practicality had apparently been arranged into neat rows and displayed for sale. Reinforced clothing occupied one section. Protective equipment another. Weapons and holsters filled the far wall.

Mando moved through the store with alarming efficiency.

Not browsing, selecting.

The first jacket earned a brief inspection before being rejected. The second lasted slightly longer before being handed directly to her.

"This one."

She accepted it reluctantly.

"You've put a lot of thought into this."

"You wore a cloak."

"It's a perfectly respectable cloak."

"It serves no purpose."

The annoying thing was that he wasn't wrong.

She slipped her arms into the reinforced jacket that somehow managed to feel comfortable without sacrificing mobility. The armour panels had been integrated into the lining well enough that they weren't immediately obvious either, not that she didn't love the whole shiny plates of metal look, maybe just not on her.

Mando nodded once.

"Better."

"That sounded like approval."

"It'll stop a knife."

"There it is."

The rest of the shopping trip followed a similar pattern.

Boots.

Utility pouches.

A reinforced undershirt.

Enough equipment that she began to suspect he'd spent the entire previous mission mentally cataloguing every possible injury she could have sustained. Eventually he stopped beside a weapons display and picked up a compact blaster pistol.

"You should carry one."

She frowned immediately, "No."

"I don't see why not."

"I have a lightsaber."

"You won't always need a lightsaber."

The pistol remained extended toward her.

She stared at it.

For most of her life the answer would have been simple. Jedi didn't carry blasters. Jedi carried lightsabers. The distinction had been drilled into her since childhood. The elegant weapon. Civilised weapon.

A Jedi's weapon.

The thought felt strangely hollow now. A though belonging to a version of herself that no longer quite existed.

"I'm not shooting first."

"Didn't ask you to."

The answer arrived immediately.

She looked down at the pistol again.

"What am I supposed to do with it?"

"You use it when you don't feel the need to burn a limb off."

A laugh escaped before she could stop it.

"That's a very specific selling point."

The pistol changed hands. Because he was right. There was a difference.

Sometimes a situation didn't require a lightsaber. Sometimes it didn't require announcing herself to an entire facility with a blade visible from three corridors away. Sometimes having another option was useful.

Mando immediately reached for a utility belt.

"Oh now here we go."

The helmet tilted.

"What now?"

"You got me to agree to one thing and now you want me to accessorise."

"You need somewhere to put it."

When they finally emerged from the shop, she'd somehow acquired a reinforced jacket, upgraded boots, a utility belt and a blaster she fully intended to ignore until an emergency forced her to acknowledge its existence.

Grogu rushed back to the flight shop. The moment he spotted them, his attention returned to the goggles.

She stopped behind him for moment then simply turned and walked into the store. A few minutes later she emerged carrying a small box.

The look on Grogu's face was worth every credit.

His ears lifted so high he looked like he could take off.

"Come here."

The child practically launched himself at her. The goggles fit surprisingly well. Once secured, they somehow made his already enormous eyes appear even larger.

Grogu puffed himself up proudly.

She laughed.

Across from them, Mando had gone suspiciously quiet.

The helmet shifted from Grogu, to the goggles, to her.

"What?"

"You bought him goggles."

"They're protective eyewear." The answer arrived immediately.

Mando continued staring.

She pointed at the beskar helmet covering his head.

"You've got a helmet."

Then toward Grogu.

"He's got goggles."

The child nodded enthusiastically.

"That's gear."

For a moment nobody said anything.

Then Grogu adjusted the goggles and walked directly into a support column.

She doubled over laughing. Even Mando's shoulders moved slightly.

Close enough.

The goggles remained firmly in place as they continued through the market.

She had expected the novelty to wear off within minutes. Instead, Grogu treated them with the same seriousness he normally reserved for important missions. Every so often he adjusted them with both hands when they slipped too far down his face, then continued marching through the market with complete confidence. The effect was made considerably funnier by the fact that the oversized lenses somehow magnified his eyes even further.

At one point he caught his reflection in a shop window and stopped to admire himself. She didn't have the heart to interrupt.

Corellia seemed determined to distract them at every turn. The market stretched through several interconnected streets, overflowing with shops, food stalls and vendors selling everything from ship components to handcrafted furniture. Mechanics haggled over replacement parts while musicians competed with the noise of the crowds. Strings of lights had begun glowing overhead as evening settled over the city, casting a warm amber light across the streets.

For the first time in a very long time, she wasn't heading somewhere.

There wasn't a deadline looming over her shoulder. No transport she needed to catch. No destination waiting beyond the next jump. They wandered because they could, stopping wherever something caught their attention before moving on again.

Mando, of course, continued pretending they weren't wandering at all.

The man had undoubtedly constructed an efficient route through the city in his head and was quietly guiding them along it while allowing enough detours to keep Grogu entertained.

She was still considering this when she noticed he'd disappeared.

The realisation arrived several seconds before she spotted him again emerging from a supply store carrying a crate of parts large enough that she immediately knew they were intended for the Crest.

The man couldn't spend three hours in a city without buying something for the ship.

Grogu hurried over to inspect the contents. Mando crouched beside him and began explaining something about fuel regulators.

Left temporarily to herself, she drifted toward a nearby storefront displaying household goods.

It contained nothing particularly exciting. Folded blankets occupied one side of the display while shelves of ceramic dishes and storage containers filled the other. Most people probably would've walked straight past without noticing.

She didn't.

Her attention settled on a woven blanket draped over the back of a display chair. The colours were muted enough to fit perfectly aboard the Crest. More importantly, it looked comfortable.

Her fingers brushed across the fabric but that was all. Yet she found herself standing there longer than intended.

Most things aboard the Crest served a purpose. Every item earned its place. Cargo space wasn't infinite and Mando wasn't the sort of person who collected things simply because he liked them.

The blanket didn't solve a problem. It wasn't necessary, they had blankets. It was simply something she wanted. The thought felt unexpectedly strange.

She glanced sideways.

Mando had appeared beside her at some point, carrying the crate beneath one arm while Grogu sat inside it examining the contents with intense curiosity.

"You cold?"

"No." She spit out too quickly.

The helmet tilted slightly.

"You already sleep under three blankets."

"That is a gross exaggeration."

Mando remained unconvinced. Unfortunately, he was also correct.

The Crest had a tendency to become cold during long hyperspace journeys, and she had developed a habit of surrounding herself with every available blanket before going to sleep. The fact that Mando had apparently noticed was information she wasn't entirely sure what to do with. Before she could formulate a defence, he shifted the crate and reached for the blanket.

The movement was so casual she didn't realise what he was doing until it had already been placed in her hands.

She stared down at it.

"You know these cost money." She mumbled.

"Good thing you have some."

The credits were still sitting in her account. She'd spent years treating every purchase as a calculation, weighing necessity against cost before deciding whether she could afford it. Nobody had ever suggested buying something simply because she liked it.

The realisation lingered as she paid for the plush blanket and tucked it beneath one arm.

A little while later they continued through the market with Grogu proudly wearing his goggles, Mando carrying enough ship parts to rebuild half the Crest, and her carrying a blanket she absolutely did not need.

She told herself she would probably keep it in the cockpit. The fact that she was already mentally assigning it a place aboard the Crest was a completely separate issue and not one she intended to examine too closely.

Grogu seemed equally pleased with his purchase. Every reflective surface had become an opportunity to admire the goggles. Shop windows. Polished speeders. The occasional decorative panel. If the child discovered a mirror, she suspected they might never leave Corellia.

Mando appeared determined to pretend none of this was happening. Which was impressive considering Grogu had nearly walked into three separate pedestrians while admiring himself.

The crowds thickened as dusk settled properly across the city. Lights glowed above the streets while restaurants and food stalls began drawing larger crowds. The scent of cooking food drifted through the air often enough that she found herself becoming increasingly aware of how long they had been walking.

Apparently Grogu reached the same conclusion. The child slowed abruptly beside a food stall and simply stopped.

"You know, most people at least pretend to be subtle."

Grogu pointed toward a tray of fried dumplings.

The vendor smiled.

"Good choice."

The child looked unbearably smug.

Mando sighed. The sound carried all the weight of somebody who had lost this argument before it had even started.

A few minutes later the three of them were walking again, this time with food containers in hand. Grogu carried his own with fierce determination despite the fact that it occupied both hands and most of his attention.

The market had become noticeably busier after dark, outdoor seating areas were packed with families lingering over dinner while vendors called out to passing customers. Every few metres somebody seemed to be carrying food in one direction or another.

"Want to find somewhere to sit?" she asked.

The nearest café still had a few empty tables.

Mando followed her gaze.

Before he could answer, she looked down at the growing collection of purchases between them. The blanket was tucked beneath her arm. Mando was carrying enough ship parts to rebuild half the Crest. Grogu was balancing dumplings, goggles and determination in roughly equal measure.

"Or... we could just take it back to the ship."

"What?"

"The food."

She lifted her container slightly.

"It'll probably be easier than trying to juggle all this and eat at the same time."

The suggestion seemed perfectly reasonable. Then another thought occurred to her.

"And maybe we could actually eat together for once."

The words escaped before she could think too hard about them.

For a moment she kept walking, her attention fixed on a nearby stall displaying strings of coloured lanterns, but the longer Mando remained silent the more her own suggestion began catching up with her. It wasn't as simple a thing as she'd made it sound. Most of their meals happened in passing. She and Grogu would eat while travelling through hyperspace or during maintenance stops, while Mando generally disappeared for a while and returned later as though the subject of food had never existed in the first place.

Grogu made a noise immediately, looking up from his dumplings with obvious approval.

"Well, at least someone likes the idea."

The child nodded so enthusiastically that his goggles slipped halfway down his face.

She couldn't help laughing.

By the time she'd reached over to push them back into place, Mando finally answered.

"Alright."

That was it.

No hesitation she could hear through the modulator. No explanation. Just a simple agreement that somehow left her feeling oddly pleased.

The conversation drifted away after that, swallowed by the noise of the market around them. They turned back toward the spaceport at an unhurried pace, weaving through the evening crowds while the city settled into the comfortable rhythm of night. Restaurants filled. Apartment windows glowed overhead. Somewhere nearby a musician had begun playing, the sound carrying faintly between the buildings.

She found herself looking upward more often than expected.

People occupied balconies above the streets. Some sat together over dinner while others watered plants or read beneath warm interior lights spilling through open doors. Nobody appeared to be in a hurry. Nobody seemed particularly concerned about where they would be tomorrow.

The route back toward the spaceport took them through a quieter section of the district where the crowds thinned just enough that she could walk without constantly sidestepping somebody. Most of the shops here seemed geared toward locals rather than travellers. There were fewer souvenir displays and fewer vendors trying to draw attention to themselves. Instead she found herself passing bakeries, bookstores and clothing shops whose windows displayed more ordinary things.

A few months ago she wouldn't have looked twice. Clothes were clothes. Blankets were blankets. If something served a purpose, it was worth carrying. If it didn't, it stayed behind.

Yet now she found herself slowing in front of storefronts simply because something looked comfortable. The realisation arrived while passing a display window filled with sleepwear.

She made it three steps beyond the shop before stopping.

Then she turned around.

Grogu nearly walked into the back of her legs, a satisfying reversal of roles.

"You need something?" Mando had apparently noticed she'd stopped.

She pointed through the glass.

The display itself was entirely unremarkable. Soft shirts. Lounge clothes. Sleep shorts. The sort of things people bought when they expected to spend their evenings relaxing instead of fleeing across the galaxy.

"I've just realised something."

The helmet tilted slightly.

"What?"

"I sleep in cargo pants."

Mando looked through the window, then back at her.

"Yes."

She stared.

"I've spent the last two years of my life sleeping in cargo pants."

"Okay."

The complete lack of concern in his voice somehow made the situation worse.

"That is insane."

"You wear them every day."

"That's not the point."

Although, from his perspective... She looked him up and down.

"Well you sleep in armour."

"I don't sleep in armour."

"You absolutely sleep in armour."

The helmet tilted again.

"I take the plates off."

She laughed.

"That is not the defence you think it is."

Grogu looked between them with the expression of somebody watching a conversation he did not remotely understand.

The child was right.

The conversation made no sense.

Yet somehow that only reinforced her point.

She was standing beside a man whose idea of relaxing involved removing a few pieces of beskar before going to sleep.

Perhaps neither of them were particularly qualified to discuss healthy sleeping habits.

"I'm fixing this."

Before either of them could respond, she stepped inside.

The shop smelled faintly of clean linen. Rows of soft fabrics replaced armour plating and tactical equipment. Nobody was trying to sell her something reinforced against blaster fire. Nobody cared about combat mobility or knife resistance ratings. It felt absurdly indulgent.

She loved it.

By the time she emerged again, she'd acquired a matching lounge set, a pair of sleep shorts, an oversized shirt and thick socks soft enough that she was already looking forward to wearing them. The shopping bag swung lightly from her hand as she rejoined the others, feeling disproportionately pleased with herself.

"That's a lot of stuff."

She looked up.

Mando was staring at the bag.

"It's one outfit."

"You already have clothes."

She laughed.

"You own one pair of boots."

"I own two pairs."

For reasons she couldn't entirely explain, the exchange left her grinning for the rest of the walk back to the Crest.

The purchases weren't important. None of them were necessary.

Yet she found herself thinking about the blanket tucked under her arm and the lounge clothes sitting inside the shopping bag with the same quiet satisfaction she'd felt watching Grogu put on his goggles.

They were hers.

By the time they reached the Crest, the evening rush had largely disappeared from the spaceport. Most of the ships around them sat dark and quiet beneath the floodlights while maintenance crews moved between docking bays finishing the last of their work for the night. The familiar sight of the old gunship waiting exactly where they'd left it should not have felt nearly as reassuring as it did.

Grogu disappeared up the ramp the second it lowered.

The child was still wearing the goggles.

At this point she suspected they would need to be surgically removed.

"Those are definitely going to bed with him."

The ramp sealed behind them with a familiar hiss. Purchases found temporary homes on the booth table while Mando deposited his collection of ship parts near the workshop. For a few minutes the cargo bay became organised chaos as everything was sorted into piles. Grogu proudly unpacked the goggles box despite already wearing the contents. She folded the blanket she'd bought and immediately unfolded it again because the fabric was even softer under the Crest's warmer lighting.

It occurred to her halfway through this process that nobody was actually eating.

"Hey"

Neither Mando nor Grogu looked up.

"We bought food."

That got Grogu's attention.

Across the room, Mando had already started unloading parts onto a nearby workbench. She watched him for a moment before realising he was doing exactly what he always did whenever food entered the equation.

A small smile tugged at her mouth, "You said yes."

The helmet turned slightly.

"To what?"

"Eating together."

Mando looked at her.

Or at least she assumed he did, the visor made it difficult to tell.

"I did."

"Then sit down."

For a second she thought he might argue. Instead he set the last component onto the workbench and crossed the cargo bay without comment.

Within minutes the three of them had settled into the booth. The arrangement wasn't unusual. She and Grogu ate together all the time. What felt different was the presence of the Mandalorian occupying the opposite bench instead of finding some excuse to disappear into another section of the ship.

The first few minutes passed easily enough. Grogu proudly babbled something about his goggles through a mouthful of dumplings. She pointed out that pilots generally benefited from being able to see where they were going. Mando informed the child that flying into an asteroid would not become less embarrassing simply because he looked impressive while doing it.

Grogu took this criticism personally.

She laughed hard enough that she nearly dropped her chopsticks.

The atmosphere settled after that into something quieter. Comfortable. Mando ate with practiced efficiency, lifting food beneath the helmet with chopsticks while never once disturbing the beskar covering the rest of his face. She'd seen him do it before. It still fascinated her.

Mostly because of how normal he made it look.

There was no awkwardness.

No self-consciousness.

Just another habit developed over years of living this way.

At some point she realised she was smiling. Not at anything in particular.

Maybe just at the evening they had shared.

The food.

Grogu's increasingly dramatic defence of the goggles.

The fact that Mando had actually stayed.

By the time the containers were empty, Grogu was visibly struggling to keep his eyes open. The goggles had finally slipped sideways across his face and neither of them had the heart to correct them.

She gathered her purchases from the table and disappeared up the ladder.

Mando picked up the adorable sleepy child and headed up the ladder behind her.

She locked herself in the cramped fresher, changing right into her self indulgent purchases.

The lounge clothes came first.

Then the socks.

Then the blanket.

When she emerged several minutes later she felt absurdly comfortable. The oversized shirt hung low and the shorts were soft in a way that made her wonder why she'd ever accepted sleeping in cargo trousers as normal human behaviour.

The blanket remained wrapped firmly around her shoulders.

She fully intended to enjoy every credit she'd spent.

Grogu noticed first. The child brightened immediately.

"See?" She pointed at herself. "This is what a person wears when they aren't expecting a firefight."

The helmet across from her remained suspiciously still.

Then it tilted slightly. She could almost feel his eyes scanning her behind the visor.

She narrowed her eyes, "What?"

"You're going to need four more blankets."

She blinked.

"To make up for the loss of fabric."

For a second she simply stared.

Then the laugh burst out of her before she could stop it.

"That's rich coming from a man who sleeps in armour."

"I don't sleep in armour."

"You absolutely sleep in armour."

The argument resumed immediately.

Grogu, delighted to discover his evening entertainment had returned, settled deeper into his hammock to watch the entire thing unfold.

When she looked down at him he was clearly fighting back sleep, blinking slower and slower while his precious goggles sat, still crooked, across his face.

She reached over and gently slipped them off.

Grogu made an offended sound and reached for them, half asleep.

"You are not sleeping in these."

The goggles were placed safely on a shelf as she got Grogu settled into his hammock for the night, promising they would still be there in the morning and that he could wear them again the second he woke up. The child had appeared to accept this arrangement right up until she turned her back and felt a familiar tug through the Force.

The goggles flew neatly off the shelf.

Grogu caught them, immediately curling his little fingers around them and closing his eyes.

She stared.

The child kept his eyes firmly shut.

"You're impossible."

No response.

Just three tiny green fingers wrapped possessively around the goggles.

A few minutes later she climbed into the cockpit with her blanket draped around her shoulders and immediately set it across the co-pilot's chair. The oversized sleeves on her shirt swallowed most of her hands while the thick socks made the metal deck pleasantly warm beneath her feet. Combined with the lingering excitement from her purchases, she felt absurdly comfortable.

Mando occupied the pilot's seat as usual.

The soft blue glow of a holographic display illuminated the cockpit.

"You look pleased with yourself."

She dropped into the co-pilot's chair.

"I am pleased with myself." No shame whatsoever.

The purchases had been excellent.

Mando made a sound suspiciously close to amusement before gesturing toward the navigation display floating between them.

"I got an urgent call from the Commander."

That immediately caught her attention.

"Good call or bad call?"

"Don't know yet."

Never reassuring.

She leaned forward as the display expanded, stars spilling across the cockpit in a three-dimensional map of the galaxy. Hundreds of systems glittered within the projection while hyperspace routes connected them in glowing streams of blue light.

The sight immediately drew her in.

"Oh, that's pretty."

She leaned further over the console to get a better look. She reached out automatically, dragging her fingers through a cluster of systems and watching the map respond around her.

Mando had gone oddly quiet.

She glanced over.

The Mandalorian seemed to have forgotten whatever explanation he'd been about to give.

"What?"

The helmet shifted slightly.

Nothing.

Mando cleared his throat. Or at least the modulator produced something that sounded close enough.

"We need to get to Adelphi."

She frowned.

"I have no idea where that is."

"Didn't think you would." He adjusted the display.

For several seconds she simply studied the map, tracing routes between unfamiliar systems while trying to orient herself. The galaxy always looked different when viewed this way. Larger somehow.

Beside her, Mando shifted slightly.

Then leaned forward himself. Not moving from the pilot's seat. Just leaning in closer so he could point toward a route cutting through to the Outer Rim.

"It's here."

His gloved finger traced a path through the display.

"We'd take these lanes."

She followed the route carefully.

"How long?"

"Three days."

She glanced over.

"That's a long way."

"Two and a half if we're lucky."

The explanation continued while she studied the projection. She could feel the gentle pull of sleep clouding her thoughts. Spurred only by the familiar hum of the ship beneath the deck plating and smell the lingering traces of takeout containers still sitting somewhere below.

She hadn't realised how much she was looking forward to curling up beneath her blanket until that moment.

Still, the answer seemed obvious.

"We should leave now."

The helmet turned slightly, "You sure?"

"You said the commander sounded urgent."

"She did. But I told you we were staying the night."

The statement seemed genuinely earnest. As though he was worried she'd feel cheated somehow.

She shrugged.

"It doesn't really make much difference."

Mando waited.

She smiled and settled back into her chair.

"I'm going to sleep either way."