Discover Top Posts Tagged with #mandalorian

Soul Ties Chapter 2 (Din Djarin & OC)

*Read chapter one here*

Summary: Mira built a quiet life on Endor for herself and her one-eyed black tooka cat, far away from war, Jedi, Mandalorians, and the kind of action and excitement that gets people killed. It's safe. Lonely, maybe, but safe.

Then a Mandalorian and a little green child crash into her life, and suddenly staying hidden isn't an option anymore.

Mira has her secrets, and Din has his, but there's more that ties their souls together than they realize.

Word count: 4k

TW: mild swearing and violence.

⋆｡°✩⋆｡°✩⋆｡°✩⋆｡°✩⋆｡°✩⋆｡°✩⋆｡°✩⋆｡°✩⋆｡°✩⋆｡°✩⋆｡°✩⋆｡

A/N: We switch back and forth between Mira and Din’s POVs in this chapter! I am having so much fun writing this. I hope you guys love it too. I couldn’t believe people were actually interested in this story after the first chapter, so thank you! Let me know what you think of this one!

⋆｡°✩⋆｡°✩⋆｡°✩⋆｡°✩⋆｡°✩⋆｡°✩⋆｡°✩⋆｡°✩⋆｡°✩⋆｡°✩⋆｡°✩⋆｡

Chapter Two

Mira

Just this morning Mira had been chasing Tovi through the branches of the forest, and now she was weaving through the trees again, trying to keep up with the Mandalorian in a mad dash to his ship.

Mira's heart pounded so hard she swore it had climbed into her head. Its rapid beating was all she could hear thudding in her ears. Tears were stinging hot on her face as the night air whipped past her. She clutched Tovi tight in her arms and resisted the urge to look back over her shoulder at her home.

Her feet came to an almost involuntary halt when she heard another TIE fighter fly overhead. Looking up, she set her eyes on it, menacingly swooping just above the tree line. Mira froze, stuck staring at the sky with her chest heaving. It was one thing to hear the sound of a fighter for the first time in years; it was another to come face to face with the reality of actually seeing one.

A hand grabbed her wrist tightly, cutting her out of her trance. When she finally pulled her eyes off of the sky, the Mandalorian’s T-visor was staring back at her. How long had she been just standing there?

“We have to keep moving,” he said firmly.

Right. Because damn Imperials were after her.

He’d shown her the bounty puck with her face. How had they even gotten an image of her? She’d been hiding out here for who knows how long. Evidently they’d been watching her.

Mira tried to compose herself. Ideally, she would’ve pulled her wrist out of the Mandalorian’s grasp and kept following him, but she couldn’t seem to move her feet. So instead, the Mandalorian began running again anyway, gloved fingers still gripped around her wrist, dragging her stumbling feet behind him.

Mira wondered how long her body could keep it up at this pace. Her lungs burned as she tried to breathe in enough air. Finally, she could see the Mandalorian’s ship just in the distance.

Thank the stars.

She finally pulled her wrist from his grasp, confident she could make it to the ship on her own now.

It was a good thing she did, because a blaster bolt came out of nowhere the next second, grazing right above the Mandalorian's wrist.

“Dank farrick!” he swore.

Mira whipped her head around frantically in the direction the fire had come from.

Troopers.

Not that many. But troopers nonetheless.

Her heart stopped. She never thought she would have to lay eyes on one of those bucket heads again.

“In the ship!” the Mandalorian ordered.

Mira forced herself to obey this time, taking off in a mad dash towards the ship’s entry ramp. She ducked, shielding the tooka in her arms in a tight curl to her chest.

“The girl! Get the girl!” She heard one of the troopers order.

Assuming the Mandalorian was right behind her, she ran up the ramp without looking back. It wasn’t until she was in the ship that she realized he was, in fact, not right behind her.

Now it was her turn to swear. “Dank farrick.”

She spotted the little green child peeking out from the cockpit and threw Tovi down by him before running back out to the ship's ramp.

Mira prayed to every star in the galaxy that she wouldn't have to fight right now. She had promised herself she’d never raise a weapon unless it was absolutely life or death. Her hand came to rest on her belt just in case. Screams reached her ears as she got closer to the ramp.

But the scene in front of her was not the one she expected to see.

Troopers littered the forest floor.

All but three were already down.

The Mandalorian drove his knee into one trooper's stomach, then slammed the back of the trooper's own blaster into his helmet. White plastoid cracked against beskar, and the trooper crumpled. Another rushed him from behind, jamming a blaster against the Mandalorian's neck. The last remaining trooper raised his weapon.

Flames erupted from the Mandalorian's vambrace. The trooper in front of him stumbled backward with a shout. In the same motion, the Mandalorian twisted free of the chokehold, ripped the blaster from the second trooper's hands, and fired.

Silence.

The last trooper hit the ground.

The Mandalorian lowered the blaster, letting it fall beside the unconscious soldier before turning toward the ship.

For some reason, Mira’s breath caught as he paced calmly towards the ramp, troopers thrown everywhere behind him. He walked toward her as though he hadn't just dismantled an entire squad of stormtroopers.

He didn’t speak until he was passing her on the ramp. While grabbing her wrist again, he spoke sternly. “I told you to get in the ship.” He yanked her inside with him and slapped his hand against the button to close the ramp.

She didn’t tell him she came back to see if he needed help. That felt like a stupid thing to say after seeing how much he didn’t need any assistance taking out those troopers. Mira swallowed, opting to say nothing.

The Mandalorian dropped her wrist and walked quickly in long strides to the cockpit. Mira followed suit.

⋆｡°✩⋆｡°✩⋆｡°✩⋆｡°✩⋆｡°✩⋆｡°✩⋆｡°✩⋆｡°✩⋆｡°✩⋆｡°✩⋆｡°✩⋆｡

She hadn’t been on a ship in years.

Her feet hadn’t touched a surface that didn’t belong to Endor in years.

But here Mira was, aboard a Mandalorian’s Razor Crest, holding her anxious one-eyed black tooka cat out of reach of the little green alien who just wanted to play with him. The Mandalorian was steering them from the pilot’s seat in front of her in the cockpit.

The tears had dried, and she stared blankly out into the blue streams of light flashing by them rapidly. She was numb now.

They had scrambled out of Mira’s home and to his ship. The Mandalorian had shot down two fighters chasing them before making the jump to hyperspace.

They hadn’t spoken since then.

⋆｡°✩⋆｡°✩⋆｡°✩⋆｡°✩⋆｡°✩⋆｡°✩⋆｡°✩⋆｡°✩⋆｡°✩⋆｡°✩⋆｡°✩⋆｡

Din

He pulled up his navigation log and tapped a few buttons.

“I’m taking you to my home on Nevarro. You’ll be safe there for a little while.” He spun to face her.

She didn’t even nod, didn’t spare a glance at him.

Grogu tried to grab Tovi’s tail again, and Mira jerked the tooka away.

“Grogu. No.” The Mandalorian stood and scooped the child up. “I’m sorry about him,” he said to Mira. “I’ll keep him away.”

The Mandalorian stood there with Grogu in his arms, just observing Mira’s state. He noticed her fingers fiddling with her locket, the chaotic strands of golden ginger hair falling out of her braids, the blank look in her wide hazel eyes.

He didn’t know what to do with himself now that she wasn’t talking. He certainly couldn’t carry a conversation. The urge to offer some kind of comfort ate at him, but he had never been good at that kind of thing. With a sigh, he resolved to just let her be and stepped out of the cockpit with Grogu in hand to give her some space.

The Mandalorian went about his routine as if he didn’t have a strange ginger woman (and her one-eyed black tooka) wanted by the Empire on his ship.

He could tell that Grogu, on the other hand, was not happy to be dragged away from their guests. The child whined in protest.

“I know, buddy,” the Mandalorian tried to soothe his son. “You’re a good kid.”

He sat his son down as he prepared some food for the two of them. “You can’t keep bothering her tooka though.”

“Patu?” Grogu tilted his head to the side, looking up at his dad.

“Remember how you had to learn to play nice with the Anzellans? That’s what I need you to do now too.”

He would’ve prepped food for their guests as well if he hadn’t suspected the woman would have no interest in eating right now. He knew what that was like.

He emptied the ration pack evenly into two bowls, brown powder spilling out. Then he carefully added hot water to the dish, keeping a close eye on Grogu to make sure his grabby little hands didn’t try to get to his dinner prematurely and result in a burn…because that had happened before. He stirred the water into the powder until the mixture turned soupy.

He handed Grogu his portion and took a seat by him, making sure his back was to the cockpit, lest the woman walk in while he was eating and somehow manage to catch a glimpse of his face under his helmet as he was taking sips of soup. But she never came out of the cockpit; he and Grogu ate in silence side by side like usual.

This is about the time he’d usually put Grogu to bed; then he’d make sure the Crest’s systems were all performing well before he also retired. It would take a couple of days to reach Nevarro, so sleep was a good idea. He started to carry Grogu to his hammock in their bunk, but hesitated. Instead, he sat Grogu back down, handing him his favorite little silver ball from the original Razor Crest to keep him occupied. The Mandalorian’s gaze drifted back towards the cockpit.

Usually when they had guests for an extended period of time on the Crest, he didn’t think twice about taking his bunk for himself. Hell, there’d once been a distressed expectant frog mother aboard his ship, and Din just let her sleep in the cockpit.

But for whatever reason, he was thinking twice this time.

Before he could dissect why he was doing this or talk himself out of it, he was walking into the cockpit.

The woman and the tooka hadn’t moved. She didn’t even turn toward him when he walked in. He wondered if she had even registered his presence; she seemed pretty out of it. The tooka, however, arched its back high as his tail puffed up straight.

Only then did the woman move, hands moving to stroke the cat.

“There’s a bunk,” the Mandalorian started. “You should get some sleep.”

⋆｡°✩⋆｡°✩⋆｡°✩⋆｡°✩⋆｡°✩⋆｡°✩⋆｡°✩⋆｡°✩⋆｡°✩⋆｡°✩⋆｡°✩⋆｡

Mira

Mira looked up at the Mandalorian, a little shocked by his kindness.

She wanted to give in to her stubborn tendencies and reject his surprisingly chivalrous offer. She wanted to make herself small, take up as little space as possible, not impose on his world. That’s what her instincts told her.

Beyond that, Mira had questions for him, and she knew he definitely had questions for her. Discussing the bounty puck, for one.

But she was so tired.

She recalled just that morning (which felt like a lifetime ago now) being shocked by her reflection in her kitchen window, by the dark circles under her eyes. There was no telling how much more prominent they were now. Suddenly, she felt self-conscious under the gaze of the Mandalorian.

She made an effort to straighten up a little bit and felt how exhausted she truly was. Her body ached.

She abandoned any effort of fighting the offer now.

“Okay,” she breathed out. “Thank you.”

He simply nodded and gestured for Mira to follow him.

Mira stood with Tovi in hand and followed the armored stranger out of the cockpit.

He pressed a button and a door slid open to reveal the small bunk space. He gestured to the hammock tied to the ceiling of the bunk. She presumed that was where his child usually slept.

“Your tooka may like to sleep there,” the Mandalorian offered.

She just nodded again even though she knew Tovi would want to sleep curled right up next to her.

He gestured down the hallway of the ship with a tilt of his beskar helmet. “Fresher is that way…if you need it.”

The Mandalorian lingered for a few awkward beats, then turned away without another word.

She lowered Tovi onto the bunk before crawling into the space herself. Mira pressed the button to seal the door as soon as her fingers found it. She was used to being alone, and her internal battery was dead. Her tolerance for being perceived by and interacting with another person was low. She finally let out a breath when the door slid shut with a click.

The bunk was small. She wondered how the Mandalorian could fit in here. As she adjusted herself to lie down in the space, she decided he must have to curl his knees up toward his chest in order to fit in here. It was a funny thought—a big Mandalorian warrior curling into a fetal position.

As silly as it was to be thinking about such a thing, she found it easier to think about than the events of today.

She became hyperaware that this was his space. It felt oddly intimate for her body to be lying in the same place his usually did. But then again, she hadn’t had any kind of contact with another human in so long that she was probably just hypersensitive to the idea. Anything felt intimate comparatively.

Mira slipped under the thin gray blanket and let her head fall on the pillows. Her eyes fell shut, and she breathed in deeply. Tovi, as suspected, curled right up next to her hip. The poor little guy was probably exhausted too. He’d always been very skittish, and this day had no doubt tested his bravery.

For once, she drifted off to sleep with no problem.

She told herself it was just because the day had been particularly taxing…

⋆｡°✩⋆｡°✩⋆｡°✩⋆｡°✩⋆｡°✩⋆｡°✩⋆｡°✩⋆｡°✩⋆｡°✩⋆｡°✩⋆｡°✩⋆｡

“Eat.”

She had just woken up and stepped out of the bunk.

He was standing by the table where Grogu was sitting and eating. There was another bowl waiting for her beside his. She felt the ache in her stomach and decided not to argue with him. Mira sat down and scooped a big spoonful of the ration slop into her mouth.

“So you wanna tell me why Imperial remnant groups might have a bounty out on you?” he spoke again.

Clearly his grace period with her had expired.

She swallowed slowly. “No idea,” she lied. Well, it wasn’t quite a lie. Mira could venture a guess, but there was no way they had found that out. So, it couldn’t be that. Which thus meant: she had no idea.

“Try again.”

Was this guy serious? She had to fight not to roll her eyes. “You saw where I lived. How I was living. You’re the only being besides an Ewok I have spoken to in years.” Tears welled in her eyes again. It was hard to fight the sting in her throat when she got even mildly worked up about anything. She wished that wasn’t the case. “I have done nothing with my life. Nothing. So, no, I haven’t any idea what I could have possibly done to give Imperial remnant groups any motive to put a target on my back.”

The Mandalorian was quiet for several moments.

“What’s your name?” he asked.

She took a steadying breath. “Mira.”

He tilted his helmet to the side, waiting.

“What?” she asked, confused and a little annoyed.

“Your full name,” he requested.

“That’s it,” she insisted.

Silence from the man of beskar. He still wasn’t convinced.

“Orphan,” she bit out the word in explanation.

Mira swore she saw the Mandalorian physically react—just barely. She was sure there had been the slightest twitch from him. Huh.

That had been enough to make him drop it for now. He redirected his attention to the child, taking up the little guy’s now empty breakfast bowl.

Mira glanced over at Tovi, who was still asleep in the bunk. When she turned back, she jumped to find the child had scooted closer to her and was staring quite intently.

After she mentally cursed how easily startled she was, Mira gave the child her full attention. “Hello there,” she said softly, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

The child cocked his head to the side, eyes big, lips parted.

“You…called him Grogu? Right?” Mira asked the Mandalorian.

The Mandalorian, who had been cleaning Grogu’s breakfast dish, paused his movement.

After a moment, he answered. “Yes.”

Mira held her finger out to the child. “It's nice to meet you, Grogu.”

Grogu reached out for her finger and wrapped his little hand around it. Then he cooed, followed by a high-pitched squeal.

⋆｡°✩⋆｡°✩⋆｡°✩⋆｡°✩⋆｡°✩⋆｡°✩⋆｡°✩⋆｡°✩⋆｡°✩⋆｡°✩⋆｡°✩⋆｡

Din

The Mandalorian turned around at the sound of his son squealing. His gaze flew to Grogu’s grip on Mira’s fingers. He froze at the sight, something in his stomach twisting.

He thought about intervening, but the idea was cut off by the sharp buzz of an incoming comm from the cockpit.

The woman jumped again. “What’s that?” she asked him, clearly masking how much the tiny sound concerned her.

“Probably Teva.”

“Teva?”

“Carson Teva. He’s with the New Republic.” He started toward the cockpit.

“Wait,” he heard Mira’s soft voice protest.

He turned back to face her. “I never reported back after my mission on Endor; I need to take this now.”

She hesitated. “Are you going to tell him about me?”

He studied her for a moment. “You don’t want me to.” Not a question.

Mira stood up and took a step closer to him. “Please.”

“Why?” He was still debating whether he should be suspicious of this woman. On one hand, everything about her seemed like a mystery, but on the other hand, she just seemed like a simple woman who’d been through a lot. If she couldn’t think of a reason the Empire would be after her, why would she be concerned if the New Republic knew about the situation? “The New Republic would be able to help.”

She held his gaze, weighing her words before she spoke. “Let's just say the Republic I grew up with doesn’t exactly give me confidence in the new one.”

He could understand that. He wasn’t all that trusting of government systems either.

Mira’s thumb brushed against that gold locket around her neck.

“I’ll…be selective with my report.” He turned to the cockpit without another word.

What the hell did that mean? What was he doing? He was supposed to do his job, report back with any and all information. Why was he covering for this woman? Especially if she didn’t have anything she needed to be covered for…

Shaking his head, he sat down in the pilot’s seat and answered the call.

“Mando!” Teva’s voice came through. “You never reported back.”

“Had a bit of a bumpy exit,” he explained. “Ran into some…complications.”

“Complications? What did you learn on Endor?”

“The reports were correct. I did encounter an Imperial presence.”

“Did you take care of it?”

“Some troopers on the ground and a couple of fighters, yes. But there were more of them there. I don’t know exactly how many.”

“That’s troubling indeed.” Teva’s brow wrinkled. “We’ll check it out.”

The Mandalorian nodded, praying Teva wouldn’t ask any further questions and he wouldn’t have to lie.

“Anything else to report?” Teva asked after a moment.

Fighting the urge to glance over his shoulder to where Mira was just outside the cockpit, Mando opted for a half-truth. “I found…something.”

“Something?”

“I’m still figuring out what.”

Teva looked confused. “I trust you’ll report to us as soon as you have figured it out,” Teva said pointedly.

“Yes, sir.” Mando forced out.

After Teva signed off, the Mandalorian felt dizzy from being deceptive. He stood up, a little unsteady, and started to walk back out of the cockpit. He felt like he’d dishonored his code. I mean, it’s not like he’d taken off his helmet or anything, but he felt the guilt twist in his gut all the same.

He eyed Mira when he stepped out, rubbing his wrist absentmindedly. She was now sitting on the edge of his bunk, chewing on her nails. When she saw him exit, she dropped her hand.

The Mandalorian had planned on walking right past her without a word.

“Is your wrist okay?” Mira’s voice stopped him.

“S’fine,” he insisted. “I just haven’t gotten around to tending to it after our little run-in with those troopers.”

She stood, closing the distance between them with a few steps. “Let me help. Where do you keep your med supplies?”

“I can tend to it myself.”

“But you haven’t yet.”

He said nothing. She wasn’t the only one who was stubborn.

Mira continued. “Plus, it's kinda hard to tend to a wound near your hand since you only have the one other hand to do so…” she pointed out. “I can’t tell you how many times I wished I’d had an extra pair of hands to help me tend to an injury.”

Against his better judgement, he reached for a medpack. It was hung on the wall right behind her, so he had to lean in closer to her before he could grab it. He felt her eyes stay on him even when his helmet almost brushed her face.

No longer protesting, he sat on the edge of the bunk where she had just been sitting and opened the pack. Mira sat down beside him, and he handed her the supplies. She began assessing his small injury silently.

He tilted his helmet towards her. “I thought you said you didn’t get into any action on Endor.”

“I don’t. I’m just really clumsy.”

Before he could do anything about it, a scoff-like sound was escaping him. Not quite a laugh, but close.

Mira’s lips quirked upward.

Her fingers came to rest on his wrist. “May I?” her voice was tender.

He hesitated for a moment before nodding.

Very carefully, Mira slowly pulled his glove down and his sleeve up. Her thumbs gently grazed the blaster-burned skin.

He hissed through his teeth.

“Sorry,” she apologized frantically, her voice hushed.

Silence fell back over them as she resumed her work, cleaning the area and applying a bacta spray. After that, she began to wrap his wrist in a bandage. Her hands were soft. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt someone else’s skin against his, but then he remembered; she probably hadn’t felt someone else’s skin in a while either.

“I’m an orphan too,” his own voice startled him. It came out so much softer than he was used to hearing. He hadn’t meant to say it at all.

Mira’s hands paused. “Oh.”

More silence. She finished tying the bandage off before closing the medpack and setting it out of the way behind them on the bunk.

“Would you tell me your name?” Mira asked.

He waited for so long he figured she probably assumed he wasn’t going to tell her.

“Din,” he finally answered.

“Din,” she repeated.

No one would ever know but him, but Din Djarin smiled just the slightest bit under that helmet.