Trust is a Two-Way Road Pt. 1
Pairing: The Mandalorian x OC
Read Last Part here, Next part here
In which the Mandalorian and Xola learn that trust is not granted, but earned.
A/N: This is now the exploration of the thing we all find the most difficult in our relations. Whether you have known them three days of three decades, trust does not come easily to the best of us. Especially to those whose literal job is not trusting a soul, and the other betrayed one too many times. I am going to enjoy unfurling this important facet of a relationship, please stay tuned!
It was friendlier than any place that Xola had been in a long, long time. Although there were kind words and soft interactions, the compound lifestyle had not exactly been the easiest of places. Her position as a translator of the Jawa dialect had allowed her the luxury of hot water allowance, vegetables, and the occasional fruit instead of constantly eating freeze-dried rations, but this was different. A hot broth with a sharp yet deliciously spiced drink. A friendly waitress with easy-going chatter surrounding her.
"I...can pay you back." She offered.
"I don't like to be indebted, Mandalorian." Taking another sip of the thin broth, she rubbed her neck. "Just give me time to think of how I might be able to."
There was not much to interact with. She understood, she did. It was as new to him as it was for her.
From their interactions, it was glaringly obvious that he had not spent much time with people. She was curious if he had friends within his clan. People he had met here and there that he befriended. Were there lovers amongst his acquaintance?
Shaken from her thoughts, she nodded.
"It's very nice. I'd offer you some but..." Huffing an uncomfortable laugh, she motioned vaguely in his direction. "I hope that you're finding times to look after yourself, even when I am...here."
"I do." Pausing, she felt a tension rise in the air. "Stay here."
Hearing his chair scrape, his shadow had fled.
Looking amongst the shapes and hues of brown and grey, she could not make out his shape.
He had said stay. But, could she? What if the Mandalorian was leaving her on the planet with no means?
"No...I trust him." Xola whispered.
But, she didn't. She didn't trust him. She didn't trust anyone in particular.
Rising, she made her way to the brightest light source, indicating the presence of an exit. Breath rising and falling, she looked around, ears straining for the sound of the engines of The Crest.
Hearing a warrior's yell, she ran in that direction. What happened?
Feeling a weapon push into her neck, Xola stepped back.
"What are you doing?" Xola snapped. "Stop!"
"Could ask you two the same." Hearing a woman reply haughtily as Xola's hands raised slowly.
"You don't need to do that," Cara sighed. "I won't hurt you. Or him."
"You want soup?" The Mandalorian offered hesitantly.
As they walked back, he guided Xola in the right direction with a touch between her shoulder blades.
Because I was afraid you were about to leave me behind, never to return.
"I was worried for you." She lied. "I'm glad you're alright, however. Who is she?"
After they resettled down, Xola relieved that her food had not been cleared away yet, Cara put her drink down with a firm clink.
"Just laying low. Ex-shock trooper, getting into things here and there...look, you're a bounty hunter. Thought you had a fob on me, that's why I fought you."
"I get it." He replied with a nod.
"So...why're you two here?"
"Unless you want to go another round, you'll have to lay low somewhere else. One of us is going to move on, and I was here first." Finishing her drink, Cara made her exit.
No longer hungry, Xola took a tentative sip of the lukewarm broth before rising.
"Well...planets taken." The Mandalorian replied.
Feeling along the floor with her foot, she made her way to the brightest light in the room. Hearing the Mandalorian walking behind her, she felt disappointment settle in hard.
"Where are we in the galactic system?"
"Sorgan is on the southern outer rim."
Eyes downcast, her hand absentmindedly drifted to where her cloak once rested. This was the only quiet planet in the area. Could they risk traveling to a place with a higher population density?
"We'll leave at dawn, but first, I need to make a repair on the Crest."
Switching on the power light, he removed part of the outer grating.
"What does the sky look like right now?" Xola asked, holding out the wrench for him.
"The sun must set fast here then." Xola replied, crouching on the ground.
"Another medium bolt?" Freezing, she sat up slowly.
In the distance, was the sound of a machine of some sort.
"They're okay. Don't worry."
"And so...we will be going to 'nowhere', to deal with some local bullies."
"Pretty much. Stay, and get some things. Find the first aid, the blanket, and the yellow-no, the heavier rectangle like box that is right next to the hangar door. We're leaving as soon as I get back."
"Okay. And, where are you going?" Xola called out to his disappearing voice.
Walking up the hangar, she knelt to the ground, feeling for the rectangle box. There was a lever, a leather-like sack...feeling the cold and metallic box, she picked it up, accidentally hitting her head against the corner of the hangar.
"Damn!" She hissed, rubbing her forehead.
"You alright lady?" One of the men cautiously called out.
"Yeah, yeah. Just...load that, will you?"
After a considerable amount of time, the items were all successfully located and on the cart.
Sitting, she waited for the rest of the company. Once the cart dipped temporarily in weight, she knew it was time to go.
As the cart began its slow and steady space, she stared out into the dingy air.
"...It's nothing an ex-shock trooper can't handle." The Mandalorian was saying.
"Or a Mandalorian. And, what are you?" Cara asked, jerking her head at Xola.
"A...I worked on the warships."
Should she say? It was hard to know who stood where these days.
"...We all end up the same, don't we? Some New Republic this is turning out to be." Cara remarked, bitterness lining her voice.
"We all do the best that we can do," Xola responded.
"And sometimes, our best just isn't good enough." Cara yawned, stretching out.
Tell me about it. Xola silently agreed.
Had I just made it to that escape pod...would I even be in this mess?
Feeling the Mandalorian's eyes sharply on her, she absentmindedly wiped the sweat at the back of her neck with her hand.
"Anything on your mind?" Xola found herself asking him.
"I..." Faltering, he shifted down. "Is your head okay?"
"Hm? Yes, it's fine. Is there a bump?"
"Yeah. But if you're not hurting too much..." Fingers ghosting on her temple, they returned promptly to the Mandalorian's side.
"Better settle in. It's a long ride."
"Mhm." Xola hummed in reply.
Whatever he wanted to say, wasn't going to be vocalized. It seemed that he'd never say what he really thought of anything.
Feeling a tired irritation, Xola leaned into a corner of the cart, grimacing at the splinters pressing into her tailbone.
Closing her eyes, she imagined herself in the compound. The sound of echoing metal, the familiarity of every cough, cry, and snarky Jawa tongue that passed through those corridors. The ease of moving from room to room within the metallic walls. Five years in one place would grant the steady rhythm of a safe lifestyle, albeit a boring one. The coming and going of the refugees, feeling that she was the only permanent resident. Only to be ripped away. Registering a thin blanket of some sort being draped across her legs and stomach, she squirmed further into the cart, trying miserably to ignore the sound of the low murmurs of the men above her.
"You think they can pull it off?"
"It's a Mandalorian and a veteran. If they can't...well...we got no choice, now do we?"
The next thing Xola knew, the Mandalorian was shaking her shoulder.
Breathing in the warm and humid air and the feeling of the soft morning sun kissing her eyelashes, the sound of children laughing, and the sloshing of water, Xola's feet cautiously sank into the moist earth.
"I brought them!" The villager shouted.
Crowding the three, the chattering grew to a near frenzy as the anxious inhabitants eyed the trio, dubious wonder filling their features.
"You must be exhausted," A woman broke in, hand resting on Xola's shoulder. "Come this way."
Letting herself be led, the woman who introduced herself as Omera showed them to a small barn.
"We don't get many visitors...I'm sorry, but this is all we can offer for you two."
"You're most generous. Thank you." The Mandalorian said, looking around.
"Blankets are over there, and a washbasin at the door."
"Thank you." Xola said, smiling in her direction.
Hearing her footsteps walk away, she picked up the soft and old smelling blankets, folding it out to be a bed.
"It's been a long few days. You should get more rest." The Mandalorian said, forming his bed across the room.
"No...if it's alright, I want to walk around. I feel that I haven't walked around for a long time."
"Your nasal bone is broken, and...you..."
"Trust me. A walk will do me better than a nap ever could."
"There...there are a lot of ponds. You'll fall in."
"Not if someone is there to guide me. Or, if I had a stick of some sort."
"I can't guide you now. But...soon."
After an hour or so, the Mandalorian frowned. Someone was watching. Blaster at the ready, he whirled, producing a panicked cry from a young girl. Seeing the child, his shoulders relaxed, the blaster slowly landing at his side.
"This is my daughter, Winta." Omera warmly interjected, placing her hands on her child's shoulders.
"This nice man is going to get rid of the bad men. We'll be safe." Omera murmured comfortingly to her daughter.
"Nice to meet you." Xola said, the Mandalorian giving her a nod.
Glancing nervously at them, Winta clenched her mother's skirts as her voice began in a soft whisper.
"Sir, I wanted to know if I could show that...I don't know your name, I'm sorry. But I want to show 'her' the village. We'll stay in the village, won't go into the forest, I swear it. Can I show her around?"
"It'd be wonderful," Xola interjected. "Please do."
Turning his direction, Xola smiled.
"I'll be fine. I will see you shortly."
Hand raised reluctantly, the Mandalorian craned his neck to catch a glimpse of Xola and the girl scampering out, a nervous yet delighted grin on the child's face.
"She'll be fine. Don't worry." Omera assured him. "We take good care of people here."
It felt liberating, in a way, being seperate from the Mandalorian. Some people hated humidity, the way it made their hair puff up, the fabric clenching onto the small of the back, the near suffocating weight of moisture in the air. To Xola, it was as welcome as the first warmth that springtime brings. From the cold and recycled ship air, and the dry emptiness of the compound, the vitality of the humidness was welcome.
Cooking over the fire, Xola was delighted to hear that the fish were, in fact, a cornflower and turquoise color.
From sun up to sundown, the villagers would approach Xola and Winta for an inquisitive glance or remark.
After spending what seemed hours in the village baths, Omera joined the townswomen.
"The time!" She called out.
"Girls, get dried off and go home, I know there were some mothers and fathers looking for you!" Scampering off, the girls all whispered their goodbyes, leaving the women to enjoy the serene stillness in the bath.
"Xola, are you doing alright today?" Omera spoke up.
"Yes." Eyes crinkling, Xola ran her hand across the water's gentle surface. "It's a lovely place. And a shame that it's being seized."
A tension resonated within the house as the recent events remained an open gash in their hearts. When it had been silent for some time, Omera sighed, piling her long hair atop her head.
"Well, it is our home, and beautiful. Anything that is of value in this galaxy must be protected and cherished. And by your 'friends' being here...we are in great debt to you all."
"We will help in any way we can." Xola found herself promising. Frowning, she pulled herself out of the stone tub.
"The sunset nearly two hours ago." Someone mentioned, mirth in their voice.
"I had better retire. Thank you all!"
"Oh, do you need someone to help you get back?" Omera asked, beginning to rise.
"No, no! I know the way. Enjoy your time, and thank you!"
Hastily dressing, she squeezed the water out of her hair as she was introduced into the cold and humid air. Shivering, she rubbed her arms as she felt her way along the walls. How did the cold come so quickly?
Knocking cautiously on the barn door, she felt for the glass and threaded beads on the gate, affirming that she had reached the correct residence.
"Mandalorian...?" Cautiously poking her head in, she awaited confirmation.
In the nighttime, shadows, shapes, or any light was impossible. Just the empty and still ebony of night.
"I'm here." Hearing his voice on the opposite side, she walked in his direction. "Enjoy yourself?"
"Yeah. Very much. And you?"
At the irony in his tone, she raised an eyebrow slightly.
"In a matter of speaking."
"Then, you should try and rest, Mandalorian."
Hearing the slight clinking of Beskar, she sensed anxiety over this idea coursing through his spine.
"If you're worried, I will listen for the sounds of an ambush, so you can sleep. You need to. I mean, I am assuming you're human of some sort? But, maybe you can't tell me that."
She assumed he was human, but one could never really tell by appearances, making her least qualified to confirm this.
"Tomorrow, I will be gone for a long time." He said, the sound of footsteps approaching her. Feeling a crude wooden stick being pressed into her palms, she leaned back instinctively. "You'll need this."
"A rod?" She queried, rising.
Holding it out, she noticed he had shaped the length for her height, even the weight. Locating the wicker chair, the door frame, and even his calf, she felt a relieved sigh escape her. She hadn't realized just how much she had missed this assistance.
Xola had known he watched her struggle, even more so with the loss of her rod. But, making her one so she might be free to wander on her own. It was a kind notion.
"Now I can have something sturdy to beat people with, if the need arises," Xola said dryly, giving it a light pat.
Hearing a huff under the modulator, she tilted her head at him.
"Was that a cough or a chuckle?"
Hearing rustling, she knew he was under the covers.
Finding her way to her bed, she lay the staff on the floor, slipping underneath the soft bedding. Tucking the blanket under her chin, she stared out into the darkness, not even shadows or colors present.
Settling, Xola felt excitement buzz from her toes to her hair as she held the staff feeling the weight of it press down.
"Do you sleep every night with the helmet on?"
"Isn't it uncomfortable?"
"Then...why don't you take it off?"
"I've heard a bit about Mandalorians. Here and there. But...I don't understand."
"We are one. One face. Anonymity is a crucial aspect of Mandalore. This is the Way."
"I can't see you. At all. All I know is your armor is some sort of brown color."
"Oh. Well...point taken. I can't see. I am sure it'd be fine."
Hearing him sigh tiredly, Xola chagrined. She was keeping him from blessed rest.
"I'm looking at the wall."
Turning she reached out, fingers brushing the old wood walls.
"I'm about to sleep. So after I am...why don't you take it off? You might get an awful crick in your neck if you keep it on even when you're sleeping."
"Goodnight." Was all she got.
Pulling the blankets over her head, she felt a gentle breeze brush through the room.
"If you covered the door and that small window in the barn, if you slept like that, it wouldn't be as risky!"
"Xola-" He began, irritation fighting its way into his tone.
"-I know, no more, good luck tomorrow, wishing you the best, goodnight!"
"Goodnight, Xola." He retorted, a slight exasperation in his tone.
Fighting the strange urge to chuckle, she felt the weight of sleep press down lightly on her thin eyelids, the gentle rustling of the bed covers across the room lulling her into a dreamless sleep.
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