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imnotataxiservice · 3 years ago

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The Light of Long Dead Stars- Chapter 6

6. Allies

Word Count: 5318

Warnings: All canon typical stuff, maybe a touch of anxiety

Summary: Mando partners with Toro Calican on a job, and you wonder if ghosts can get anxiety.

A/N: Happy Friday! Here’s a new chapter! I’m gonna go through and link the chapters properly at some point but I’m just posting this for now because I like pretending I’m good with regular updates lol, please enjoy :)

Things had been relatively quiet on the danger front since leaving Sorgan.

Days in space blurred together, dull after such a stretch on a peaceful planet. The walls of the Razor Crest became all to familiar, and you had started predicting the noises and cycles of the ship; when the lights would switch from day to night mode, the water filtration system working after every trip to the vac tube or fresher, the sound the engine made just before a hyperspace jump. You liked the quiet, though you did miss the green of Sorgan, the company that made you feel a little less invisible.

Grogu, upset about the upheaval, was being difficult on purpose. At first, you found it funny, watching Mando trying to settle a fussy baby, wrestling him into some sort of routine whilst you hovered, barely helping with your words. You liked watching him learn, a man who was used to subduing bounties finding that his usual silencing techniques wouldn’t fly with a baby, suddenly having to try a gentler approach to achieve peace on the Razor Crest. Grogu had lulled him into false a sense of security on Sorgan, agreeable when he had plenty of adults to look after him and lots of children to keep him occupied. Now, Mando was on his own with a child that was not going to make this easy for him. Well, not entirely on his own. Maybe, in this case, you would count.

“There, Kid, that wasn’t so bad, huh?” His armour was covered in smears of whatever had been in that ration packet, but at least Grogu had eaten a few mouthfuls. You snickered.

“Can’t you give him a break?” You asked, drifting over to inspect the mess. It didn’t look very appetising. Space food was so bleak. “He said he was sorry.”

Grogu could be a stubborn thing, and he was gripping his anger tight. You pushed at his ears until they twitched and he huffed, doubling down on his scowl in lieu of smiling.

“He wanted you to stay,” you crooned, endeared by the way Mando wiped the food from Grogu’s mouth with his cape before even noticing his armour. “And we both know its not him you’re really mad at.”

Grogu let Mando clean him up in silence, big eyes watching the helmet. No, he wasn’t mad at Mando. Mando kept him safe. In his mind, that visor didn’t seem so intimidating anymore. If anything, he was comforted by it. You still hadn’t figured out why Mando never removed it. You supposed, so long as he was good to your youngling, it didn’t really matter- your curiosity could be left unsatisfied if it meant Grogu was protected.

“This life is dangerous,” you continued, settling yourself in front of Mando so Grogu would look at you, too. “I know it reminds you of your past. But you are fixating so much on your woes that you aren’t seeing the good. You had to leave Sorgan, and that was upsetting; but you are under the protection of someone willing to fight for you, to search for safety on your behalf- someone who is able to keep you safe. Things have changed in your favour since… before.”

Before, they hadn’t been able to keep him safe. Whoever had been in charge of protecting Grogu had failed. You had failed time and time again, your barely-there consciousness only able to follow him around for so many years, watching him be passed from hand to hand and lost to the light.

Mando had sat himself on a crate and wiped his armour with an old rag. Even without seeing his face, you sensed exhaustion, in the slump on his shoulders and his heavy hands. He was used to not sleeping, long hunts and a life that was hard on both body and mind, but childcare was a different battle, one that you didn’t think he had expected would be just as tiring. A tiny thing shouldn’t be as difficult to deal with as a hardened criminal. It made you warm to him, especially as he missed a spot on his chestplate, a smear in the shape of three tiny fingers.

“Poor thing,” you sighed, draping over Grogu’s shoulders. “You’ve done a number on him, old friend.”

He had the decency to feel bad, cooing quietly.

I didn’t mean to.

“I know. He isn’t mad at you, either.”

A question, one he wasn’t sure how to express, crossed his mind. A thought of Mando looking more energised, back to his usual self. Could Grogu do that? You laughed, and the youngling grunted, demanding to know what was so funny.

“You don’t need to use the force, little one. You just need to let the man sleep once in a while.”

You posed it to him like a game.

Mando was quick, clever, never seemed to miss a trick- whether it was a bounty trying to give him the slip, or a little green child doing something he shouldn’t. But if Grogu could get him to sleep, then you and he could play whatever you wanted without getting into trouble. It was simple, really; the only way Mando would rest was if Grogu did, too. So Grogu pretended to sleep.

At first he was terrible at pretending. When Mando noticed his charge had closed his eyes, he would lean over to check on him, and the baby found the deception so funny that he couldn’t lie still for giggling. This, at least, seemed to amuse Mando, and he made it into a game of his own, lingering over the child and pretending not to notice for longer than was necessary. Grogu eventually learned to feign sleep, and you would wait until Mando had settled into his chair or bunk, finding a space in his armour where you could read him, before giving Grogu a signal to tell him that Mando was resting. Then the pair of you would sneak into the hull, where you would wear Grogu down with play, meditation and distraction until he really did fall asleep. You wondered what Mando thought of this change in his behaviour, how he would find Grogu asleep in a different place to the one he’d left him in. Once, his hands had passed through you as he picked him up, and you swore the man shuddered. He muttered something about ghost stories and took the Child to his pram.

You had been cooing over Grogu’s new seat in the cockpit when the shooting started.

“I’ll admit I had my doubts about this man,” you were saying, sharing the crate with Grogu, a simple but effective piece of DIY that allowed Grogu his own spot in the cockpit. “But I have to hand it to him, he’s doing a good job with you.”

Grogu cooed, ears twitching. Then the view outside turned red.

“Dank Farrik!” Mando cursed, hands flying over the controls. You had wrapped instinctively around Grogu, solidifying just enough to act as an extra seatbelt. He whined as blaster shots flew past you, the Crest picking up speed and weaving to avoid the fire. Someone was firing at you. Someone had found Grogu.

“Hand over the Child, Mando.” The voice came over the comms, and Mando grunted as a few shots hit the rear of the ship. He’d dropped out of hyperspace to save fuel and begin looking at planets to land on, somewhere relatively safe where he could stock up on supplies, let Grogu stretch his legs. You could tell he was regretting it now.

A shot hit the Crest and you were all thrown forward. Alarms started blaring. Something had flashed red on the screen in front of Mando.

“I might let you live.”

You’d grown strong enough to not be left behind in all the dodging and weaving, but you still felt like you could be thrown away at any moment. Grogu’s mind reached for yours, wrapping around you the way you had him, a silent promise to keep you there.

“Thank you, little one,” you sighed.

The ship was hit again. And again. Something broke off into space. Mando quickly began flipping switches.

“Hold on,” he warned, before flipping the ship, trying to get behind the pursuer.

“I could try something,” you suggested, but Grogu squeaked his objection.

Too risky in space. Stay.

You conceded and settled in.

“Come on,” Mando muttered to himself. Even under fire, he looked competent, already with a plan in motion, pushing buttons and steering expertly to avoid the worst of the bombardment. The attacking ship wasn’t a gunner like the Crest, and was relying on multiple hits to make up for a lack of firepower.

“I can bring you in warm, or I can bring you in cold.”

That seemed to hit a nerve. You braced yourself as Mando grabbed at the controls, bringing the ship to a complete stop before throwing it into reverse, scraping along the bottom of the hunter and coming up behind him.

“That’s my line,” Mando replied, before firing.

The ship exploded. Mando guided the Crest around the worst of the debris and kept flying, piloting with only one engine- on the control panel, a screen was showing the outline of the ship, the left engine completely red. You gently untangled yourself from Grogu and moved to the viewport, catching sight of the engine. It was still attached at least, but it was heavily damaged.

“You okay?”

You turned at the sound of Mando’s voice, finding him glancing over at Grogu, who cooed.

“He is, thanks to your chair,” you said.

“The chair worked, then,” Mando said. You beamed. Grogu let out a gurgle, and a loud beep had Mando turning back to the controls and cursing under his breath. You returned to Grogu, who was looking up at you with a toothy grin.

“What?” You asked, happy smile flattening into suspicion. “Why are you grinning like that?”

Grogu refused to say. The ship continued to beep, and you watched Mando pressing buttons, intrigued. You don’t remember being a pilot, so most of his actions were lost on you, but you were mesmerised by his speed, how composed he was despite the blaring alarms.

“Losing fuel,” he said, and then the power went out. Lights, engines, everything.

Grogu laughed.

“Not the time,” you chided lightly, though you were amused by the quick look Mando sent him, as if he was surprised by the sound. He tried the controls again.

“Its all dead,” you said, hovering by his shoulder, concerned. “What happens now?”

No power meant no heat. You were floating aimlessly through space and it wouldn’t be long until the cold came, until Mando and Grogu stilled and their oxygen ran out, until—

Stop.

“Stop what?” You snapped, feeling panic clawing at what was left of you. Lost in nothing, your only company the distant stars—

Remembering.

“Remembering what? I remember nothing. I’m- I’m panicking! You’re in a dead ship and there’s no one around except maybe more hunters wanting to take you away and—”

The ship powered back up. You didn’t even notice Mando move, crossing the cockpit and pressing another button on the back wall, some sort of back-up generator for the engines. You had no heart, no lungs, but even without them, panic was an overpowering emotion, shattering you in the recycled air, rendering you useless. Remembering.

Come back.

A demand, one difficult to ignore. You tried collecting yourself back up, but it was still so dark and you were scattered like sand, so many little pieces of you. Grogu held onto the bits of you that neared him, and those that found themselves around Mando were disturbed again by the beskar, colliding and distracted until you could think of something other than fear, gathering yourself up instinctively to avoid the disturbance. He hadn’t even stopped to worry. There wasn’t one single ounce of panic in the room that could be traced back to him. Grogu pushed you toward him, whole and orientated again, where you could watch him work. You sunk into his gloves, dancing around his hands, sure and steady. No metal here, nothing to stop you, only leather worn soft from use and the blazing warmth from someone alive. Here, your fragmented memories were not shards of glass that cut you as they crossed your mind, but drops of water that evaporated with every shift of the controls. Grogu cooed, and you let yourself be lost in Mando for a moment, making his surety your own, leaving your own worries out among the stars.

A planet loomed ahead. It was all sand. On the nav-comp, it read ‘tattooine’. You think you remembered it, a desert planet on the outer rim. Not the safest. But it would be hot.

“This is Mos Eisley tower, we are tracking you. Head for bay three five. Over.”

“Copy that. Locked in for Three five.”

Mando let the autopilot kick in and turned to Grogu, who had been watching you quietly. You stayed close as Mando reached for the child, quietly talking to him about resting after a long day. You agreed with him, letting Mando carry you along with Grogu into the hull, where he removed a pauldron to give Grogu a place to lay his head. Oh, how soft the moment was; big, strong Mando, cradling a baby on a rarely vulnerable shoulder and you curled around them both, humming a lullaby only one of them could hear. After a high-stakes chase you were all coming down from the adrenaline, tired out from the ordeal. Grogu fell asleep, even with the groaning of the ship and Mando swaddled him clumsily, setting him down in his bunk and shutting him in. You remained there with him, thinking on what you had just experienced. Remembering. But what exactly were you remembering?

Did you really want to know?

“You really just go with ‘Fire first, consequences later’, huh?”

Mando had only just lowered the ramp but his blaster was out, sending a warning shot at the droids that had approached with tools in hand. Someone was yelling. You gave him a judgemental look.

“I’ll let you deal with her.”

‘Her’ was a short, curly haired woman who was charging toward Mando, letting him know that he’d be paying for any damage done. You had no idea what his problem was, but it seemed that he wasn’t a fan of droids. You just stayed back and watched, not straying far from Grogu in a new place.

The mechanic was observant.

“Looks like she’s been in a shoot-out.”

You laughed, watching Mando’s helmet tilt and move in a way that told you he was frustrated. You liked this woman. She didn’t give a damn that this man was broad and armed to the teeth. You didn’t understand much about the damage she was talking about, something about carbon scoring and rotating parts and fuel leaks- but you understood that it was expensive.

“I have 500 imperial credits,” Mando said, handing them over. She didn’t look impressed.

“Well, that will cover the hanger.”

“You’ll get your money.”

“Yeah, I’ve heard that before.”

No fear on her at all, just curiosity and general irritation about his conduct. Oh yeah, you liked her.

Mando left to go and find said money, whilst the mechanic was left with you and the Crest, and though Mando had specified no droids, she still called to them to fetch her things.

“You’re not allowed to work on the ship, but I’ll be damned if you won’t be useful!” She cried. She was shouting names of what could be tools or parts, but you had no idea what she was talking about, lost amongst mechanical jargon and the woman’s tendency to go on tangents even when talking to herself. You settled around the landing gear, studying the little scanner she was using and wondering what it was for- diagnosing problems? Heat detection? Who knows. It was interesting, though. Considering how Grogu was sleeping and Mando was gone, it was the only interesting thing you had to watch. So you did, and you listened- she seemed to enjoy narrating her work out loud- and learned what you could about how to manage the ship. ‘Not getting into gunfights’ seemed to be the main point, but with this lifestyle, that was pretty much the one thing that you could rely on.

Somewhere in between recounting a similar job and yelling at her droids to stop wasting daylight, you started inspecting the hangar, feeling secure enough to stray just out of the ship’s shadow. You could feel Grogu still, his sleeping mind always connected to yours, and it gave you time to interact with the world for a moment, dive into the ground and up the walls, prod at the droids to see if they noticed you. They did, but couldn’t see you.

“What are you three dancin’ around for?” The mechanic scolded, when the droid you’d nudged startled and jumped sideways into its peers, sending the trio into a skittering frenzy. You snickered.

“Sorry,” you said. Then prodded it again.

Something soft breezed across your mind and you returned to the ship, sensing Grogu stirring, and helped him out of the compartment. He looked around, ears drooping.

“He’s not here,” you told him gently. “He’s gone out.”

Grogu proceeded to show you the saddest walk you’d ever seen, half-asleep and upset, looking for Mando. It was unbearably cute and you wanted to scoop him up and squeeze until he laughed again. He reached the ramp and you stayed ahead of him, forming a protective shield when the mechanic spotted him. You didn’t like how she’d gone for a blaster. You wanted to knock it from her hands.

But Grogu just held up his little arms and the woman came forward slowly, handing her weapon to a droid and bending down to take him. She reached through you and you felt no ill-intent.

“Now now,” she said, hesitant. “Let Peli take a good look at you.”

Some people were softened by Grogu’s small and cute appearance, but Peli didn’t seem to be one of them. She held him at arm’s length, even as he squeaked and showed her his big sad eyes. Over her shoulder, you observed.

“Don’t bite her,” you said. Grogu made a rumbling noise. “Well I don’t know why you would, just thought I’d warn you in case you got the urge.”

“All right, there you go. Did that bounty hunter leave you all alone in that big nasty ship?”

You laughed, glad someone understood your feelings. Yes, Grogu was technically an adult in human years, but he was still a baby, and Mando had a habit of just leaving him unattended. One of the droids made a warbling noise.

“How do I know what it is?”

Grogu scowled.

“It is a baby,” you said. “He’s clearly a baby.”

“All right! Would you like some food, are you hungry? Fetch us something to eat!”

She began to walk him inside, shushing and talking to him and you let her, glad your youngling would be fed and occupied for a while. You sped after the droid that had skittered away to find food.

“Hey,” you called, bonking it on the head once more. “Can you hear me?”

Muffled beeping. You sighed.

“He likes frogs. You got frogs?”

Hesitantly, the droid held up a scrap of metal.

“…No. Frog. F-R-O-G—you know what, just get some meat. Like any kind, whatever this planet has animal-wise. He needs something other than ration packets. You hear me?”

The droid beeped and hurried away.

“I suppose we’ll find out,” you sighed to yourself.

Without the proof that Mando could pay her, Peli was in no hurry to make repairs, and instead had designated herself chief babysitter. You let Grogu be fussed over and coddled whilst you sank into the ship, wondering if whatever you were made of could be compatible with the engines- if the ship ever went dead again, maybe you could power it enough to get the Crest to safety. The feeling of being stuck in space lingered in your every atom, an uncomfortable sensation as if you could still feel it, as if some part of you was still lost in the dark. You kept shoving it away, throwing yourself into the electrical panels and through the engines, dancing with the current and trying to melt into it. It wasn’t easy; it felt rather like throwing your soul into the galaxy’s most powerful blender, but after a few attempts, you could power the lights. If you really pushed yourself, you could keep the cockpit warm. It wasn’t nearly enough, but it made you feel a tiny bit better.

Mando returned with company, waking poor Peli from a nap, just as you had found your way into the comms system. You had snorted at the commotion, startling yourself into smoke when you heard the speakers in the Crest’s cockpit make a faint static noise. You checked the power- dead. The only place that sound could’ve come from was you.

Peli was taking Grogu outside, so you left the comms for later, instead diving after them.

Someone else was with Mando, sat astride a speeder bike and eyeing Peli and Grogu curiously. He was young, good-looking- you had no idea where he had come from, but you didn’t mind the view.

Ew.

“Shut up,” you huffed, swatting gently at Grogu’s ears. “I’ve been looking at a helmet for too long, give me a break.”

This man, Toro, was helping Mando- or, Mando was helping him. You felt uneasy for some reason, the same sense of urgency as on Sorgan, but there was no hidden shooter, no beeping tracking fob. You couldn’t place what it was, so you wrapped yourself protectively around Grogu, suddenly turning sour against everyone around you who wasn’t covered in beskar. Grogu’s mind tapped against yours, curious.

“Bad feeling,” you mumbled. “I don’t know why.”

He cooed, and let you smother him for a while.

It lingered and lingered, that nagging sense that something was wrong. You couldn’t remember if that was normal for you, or if the recent bad luck had just given you anxiety. Could ghosts even get anxiety? Grogu kept looking at you, prodding at you in concern, but you couldn’t explain it; you just didn’t feel right. You left the ship alone, let Peli do her work, keeping close to your youngling and making frequent sweeps of the hangar, snapping at the droids and eyeing everything and everyone with suspicion. Grogu was getting annoyed by your behaviour, you could tell, but you couldn’t stop. Even Peli seemed to pick up on a change in mood, leaving long stretches between her ramblings.

The chill got worse. For several terrifying moments, everything went black and you felt you’d been boxed in somewhere solid, impenetrable, encased and petrified. It vanished and you were left compressed into a corner of the hangar, mind reeling with terror, all senses drowned out by whatever had happened to you.

When you came to, someone else was with you.

It was dark. It hadn’t been night a moment ago, and you reeled, reaching out to Grogu and feeling him reach back, from somewhere inside the Crest.

“I’m sorry, I don’t know where I—” You stopped, finding Peli, and Toro- but no Mando.

“He’ll be here soon,” Toro was saying, unconcerned with Peli’s look of suspicion. Grogu caught your attention from the ship, and you joined him in the hull.

Where did you go? You were so dark.

“I don’t know, little one,” you said. “But I don’t want to go back there again. What’s he doing here?”

I don’t know. He just arrived.

“He let you come back here alone?” Peli asked. Toro shrugged.

“He’s the expert. He told me to come and wait here.”

No. Why would Mando send him here? Alone?

“Maker, I should’ve stopped him,” you cursed. “He’s clearly up to something.”

You were shaken, and weak. Still, you approached Toro, finding a loaded blaster concealed under his shirt, a pouch of credits, and the smugness of a lothcat who got the cream.

“Grogu, you need to hide,” you ordered. “Now, before—”

Peli had moved for her blaster, and Toro had his gun levelled at her head. You instinctively shoved at Grogu, forcing him further into the Hull. He went and placed himself behind some crates, looking at you reproachfully.

“I’m sorry,” you said. “You’re just very slow.”

What now?

“Toro will be looking for you,” you guessed. “That’s got to be why he’s here.”

Mando will come back.

Of course he’d want Mando. He was right to hope for him. Considering how this man had walked right past you and created a hostage situation, Mando was the better choice for a rescue. You pushed that feeling of inadequacy away for now, instead looking about for options.

“We need to buy time; Peli is dispensable to him, its you he wants. If Mando doesn’t arrive fast enough, she could be in danger.”

Grogu’s ears drooped. He looked around too, before you saw a plan forming in his mind, quick ideas that made you marvel at his growing strategic skill.

“You want to make him think he’s already here?”

No, not quite. Grogu’s thoughts were messy, the quick succession of points that hadn’t yet been connected. Toro, out of time. Toro, afraid.

“But with no Mando to scare him, how do we… oh.”

Grogu looked up at you curiously.

“I have it. We need to get him in here.”

Then what?

“Then we haunt the hell out of him.”

It was easy to get him on board; he wanted Grogu, so of course he’d come looking for him. After that, the two of you did your utmost to make the man think there was someone else on board; Grogu fed you ideas and strength, and you messed with just about everything that would let you- lights, the vac tube, the doors and even the comms, which would let out a high-pitched scream like a feedback loop every time you turned it on and yelled into it. Toro initially blamed Peli, then ordered her to fix it, blaster raised and turning toward every new sound the ship made. Grogu was relishing in it; every few seconds he’d demand something else, whether it was for you to open the hatch or weapons store.

Turn on the Carbonite chamber, he said. You felt him wonder if you could shove Toro into it. You drifted over, but stopped before you were close enough to influence the mechanism. Darkness pressed in around you, compressing you into something that maybe resembled a body—

Grogu pulled you back with one tiny fist. He held you near him, so tightly that you couldn’t possibly drift away, clutched in his hand like a favourite toy. He kept hold of you as Toro demanded Peli hand him over, stating that someone was in the hangar and it was time to get this over with. You let yourself be carried, brushing against the creature you’d promised to stay with, so full of the world that you were calmed even in a vice-like hold. His energy was unlike anything you’d ever felt in a sentient being. He felt more like starlight. Like the force itself. Maybe that’s where he had come from.

Don’t go back there.

You didn’t know where he meant. But you promised anyway, and spread across his fingers and over his little tunic, a thin barrier to shield him. Toro’s weapon was pressed against Peli’s back as he pushed her toward the ramp, calling out to Mando, but it could quickly turn on Grogu.

Oh, you were relieved to see that shiny helmet.

“Looks like I’m calling the shots now, huh partner? Drop your blaster and raise ‘em.”

Even though he put his weapon down, the relief of seeing him didn’t fade. In fact, you gained confidence; Mando had a plan. He wouldn’t comply like that unless something else was up his sleeve.

“We need to be ready, Grogu.” You were snaking out of his tight grasp, pulling yourself into something substantial, reaching around your youngling. Grogu just cooed and squeaked.

“Cuff him.”

Peli approached Mando and you reached out, stretching a little to get a look at his hands. Not empty.

“Get ready,” you warned, ignoring Toro’s speech in favour of wrapping around Grogu. When the gun was pressed against his head you forced yourself in between, expanding so the child wouldn’t feel the cold metal on his skull. Not long, Mando will do something—

The light was brilliant and blinding, giving Mando time to move. Toro was not fast enough to recover and the blaster shot hit him in the chest, sending him over the side of the ramp. You gripped Grogu as tightly as he gripped you, ripping him out of Toro’s grasp and cushioning his fall, sweeping him up and stowing him behind a crate.

“Are you okay?” You demanded, crowding him in, reaching out with faint hands to check him over, fingers brushing skin. You relaxed, finding not even a scratch, and then paused. Fingers. You had fingers.

“What is that?”

The distraction made your fingers vanish, along with the rest of you, you assumed. Grogu peeked out from around the crate, cooing. Peli and Mando were watching him. Maybe, just maybe—

“What is what?” Mando asked. Peli, who had been reaching through you for Grogu, gave him an incredulous look.

“You mean you didn’t see that ghost carry him to safety just now? Are you blind?”

“Ghost?”

“Hell, I thought your ship had wiring problems when she started lighting up like that, I had no idea she was haunted! What the hell, Mando, you just pick up strange creatures for fun or what?”

Grogu made a gurgling sound and you felt like a fresh spring breeze. She’d seen you. Someone else had seen you with their own eyes. You nudged at the crate beside you, delighted when it shifted and Peli pointed accusingly.

“See? You see that, Mando?”

“I…” He had been removing the pouch from Toro’s belt. You huffed.

“Typical.” You nudged it again. Peli backed away.

“I don’t want no trouble with a ghost,” she said. “I’ll just check the little guy over, and hand him on back, okay? Let’s see- I bet all that noise was tough on your big ears.”

Grogu liked her coddling. You could’ve laughed at how he preened, except you felt pinned under the weight of Mando’s visor, fixed on the crate near where you stood. He stayed there for a solid few seconds, before turning to Grogu. Peli handed him over with a ‘be careful with him’, and you warmed at the bond she’d formed with him so quickly.

“So, I take it you didn’t get paid?”

Mando emptied the contents of Toro’s pouch into her hands. She gaped.

“That cover me?”

“Yeah, that’s gonna cover you.”

You had a feeling it would more than cover him, but you said nothing, deciding that she probably deserved the hefty tip for being a good babysitter and getting caught up in a hostage situation. You headed for a crate in her line of sight and shoved at it twice as a way of goodbye, before following Mando up the ramp. Peli ordered for her droids to remove Toro and Mando readied for take-off. In the cockpit, it was quiet, with Grogu nodding off in his little crate and you watching Mando begin pressing buttons, soothed by the healthy sound of the engine.

“So,” Mando said quietly, once the ship had left the atmosphere. “Is this ghost thing… normal for you?”

You began to laugh, whilst Grogu let out a sleepy little gurgle.

He’s got no idea.

#The Mandalorian #Din Djarin #din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #mando x reader #mando x you #mandalorian fanfiction #mandalorian x you #mandalorian x reader

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imnotataxiservice · 3 years ago

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The Light of Long Dead Stars- Chapter 5

5. The Ghost

Chapters: 1 2 3 4

Word Count: 3792

Warnings: Typical canon violence

Summary: The battle for the Village ensues, and you become a local legend.

A/N: Hi! Happy Friday, I am terrible with schedules, but I have a new chapter!

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“You’ll be safe in here,” you said, stiff from cold as the children were placed in a barn, far enough back that it wasn’t at the forefront of the battle, but central enough that raiders couldn’t circle around to it immediately and without being seen. A couple of the weaker, more nervous adults were stationed around it, the last line of defence against the raiders, and you settled into every inch of the building as Mando and Cara set off to provoke the raiders, using the darkness as cover.

The village fell unusually still and silent, every resident holding their breath as the fight of their lives crept closer. You wanted to stop too, but you feared that if you did, you would freeze in place and never be able to move again. The stronger you had become, the more tangible, the colder you had felt. Now not even the warmest sunbeams could touch you, and even Mando’s beskar felt temperate whenever you pressed against it.

Grogu cooed and you turned inward, able to see every inch of the barn’s interior, all the children gathered up in a huddle amongst empty crates and hay bales. Nervous, afraid, but thankfully quiet.

“You okay, Grogu?” You asked, brushing against his mind. He didn’t seem to feel the cold, which you were grateful for, but something had changed and grown between you, a stronger thread connecting your minds. Now his thoughts were easier to read, more conversational. It almost felt like he was talking back.

It was like this before, he told you. You saw another dark room, but this one was lit up by streaks of light, red and green and blue. You shuddered.

“No, little one. This time we won’t lose.”

But I’m still helpless.

He was much smaller then, a true baby with little strength in his neck, minimal control of his limbs, despite his age. He could do nothing at all back then, and you felt his frustration now, all these years and he can still do nothing to stop the violence. He still couldn’t fight, despite the will he possessed, despite the growing urge to.

“Maybe we can fix that at a later date,” you soothed, eyeing the smaller children, the ones who were known to wander and squeal, checking in on their minds and hoping to soothe them into sleep. The less panic, the better you could focus. Already you felt stretched thin, the corners of the barn falling out of view as you faded. You weren’t ready to be a shield this big. You hoped you were fast enough to block any stray blaster shots in a smaller form.

It seemed like an age, but eventually you heard the distant noise, hundreds of feet and the larger crashes of the AT-ST, charging your way. The children closed ranks, grabbing onto each other as yelling broke out, their parents calling to arms, getting into position, some arguing over whether or not to fire. The sound of battle was always reminiscent of a storm, in your opinion; the brewing wind of an approaching force, the thunder of footsteps, the rain of blaster fire. The calm and then the brutality, ripping through homes and bodies. Quick, devastating, and then over in barely any time at all.

You hated the sound. You tried to keep it out of the barn. They would still hear it, but it would sound distant, further away than their doorstep. They wouldn’t hear anyone fall.

Turning your gaze outward, you saw the arrival of the AT-ST; a huge metallic figure on two long legs, its gait was slow but wide enough to keep a quick pace, like a running bird but with far less grace. It towered over the huts, an ugly imposition over an otherwise scenic view. The sound those huge feet made shook the earth, and you watched anxiously as it approached the krill ponds, willing it to take another step and fall into their trap.

But the AT-ST did not take another step. Klantoonian raiders poured through the trees, between its legs, and the giant droid opened fire. If you had a heart, you were sure it would’ve stopped.

In the fray, you saw glints of silver, flashes of dark hair lit up by blaster fire. You wanted to help them, you did- but Klantoonians were breaking off and disappearing down either side of the village, and you knew that those placed around the barn could not hold them off- maybe they could take down one, two at most, but they would be overwhelmed, and the children would be left vulnerable. Grogu would, once again, be in danger.

You blocked one stray shot from the AT-ST, nearly being blown through the barn roof with the force of it but holding your ground, feeling the light and buzzing heat wash over you and fizzle out. It didn’t really hurt, but it did disorientate, and you took a second to re-form, thoughts fried.

Below, raiders were closing in. You shot down and spread yourself over entry points of the barn as they targeted buildings one by one, ransacking the insides, but coming up empty. One of the villagers fired, missing a raider by an inch, and then they were in trouble.

“You just told them where we were!” another villager yelled, before calling to the rest for aid, gathering behind carts and barrels the way Mando had taught them. You had to give him credit; he had trained them well, but they needed more time, more intense sessions before they could be prepared for this. No novice fighter was sent into a fight this early in their training. Their shots were shoddy, and you dreaded to think what would happen if the raiders got close enough to engage them hand to hand.

Somewhere on the front, another plan to engage the AT-ST was being hatched, but you couldn’t stop to watch. Seven raiders had rounded the village and were now firing at the villagers protecting the barn. Inside, children shook and cried, trying to stay quiet. Winta held Grogu, and tried to comfort the others, but even she trembled. You solidified at the door, startling as one of the villagers was shot down, and the raiders gained another foot. Instinct told you two things, started a war in your soul- part of you wanted to help the man, patch him up and get him out of the way. The other, much larger part told you to protect the children. Protect Grogu.

A stray blaster shot sprinted for the door. You met it, and it exploded against you, heat and light doused by ice and suffocated. Another villager was struck down, and more shots were directed at the barn; the raiders seemed to be trying to fire through the walls, hitting those inside without having to enter- a cruel death to those who couldn’t even see it coming. You raged at the thought of one of the children getting hurt, of Grogu or Winta bleeding out unnoticed whilst the battle went on. You met every shot, feeling the energy of them clashing with your own. You couldn’t bleed, but the slow depletion of your strength and energy was reminiscent enough, leaking away with every collision. The raiders had noticed, growing frustrated and confused, and the villagers were able to gain some ground, shooting down one raider and ganging up on another, all picking the same target to increase their chances of hitting them. You, high on the rush of battle, extended the protective barrier, coming forward to engulf the remaining villagers, taking on the heaviest fire for them, too. You could only do so much, so you only fought off the shots you knew would strike true, the shots that would meet flesh rather than wood or metal. The villager’s shots went right through you undisturbed, and the raiders fell back at the sudden shift in odds.

You had briefly thought your fight was over when they disappeared behind their respective shields, as did the villagers, who- naively- lowered their guns, exchanging looks of disbelief that quickly grew into elation. But you knew better. The fight was still going on, and the raiders weren’t giving up- they were changing tactics.

They charged the moment the villagers were distracted, and you weren’t able to buffet them back fast enough to allow them time to ready their guns again. Two were taken out immediately by Klantoonians with viroblades whilst the others fell back, scrambling for their own weapons and room to use them. They were cornered toward the barn, the raiders slowing to relish their win, grinning cruelly. Inside, you heard a frightened cry.

Two things happened simultaneously, then.

One: You placed yourself between the raiders and their victims, drawing on every reserve of energy you had, gathering it all into phantom hands. You screamed and threw everything forward.

Two: The AT-ST exploded, bathing the entire village in heat and light.

A familiar coo roused you. You felt like dust in a sunbeam, hardly visible and easily disturbed, delicate and fleeting. You were drifting, had been since your stunt in front of the barn, and had finally gained some awareness when something tugged at your mind, a little voice you would know anywhere.

“Hello, Grogu.”

His ears lifted, raised you with it (it would seem you had been resting around his head) and the world came into focus, quiet and light.

“Did we win?” You asked, realising you were back in Mando’s hut, and it was daylight. Grogu cooed.

Days ago.

“Days?”

You felt it, his ebbing worry. From his point of view, you had vanished. He showed you his thoughts, how he had felt such a force from outside, and then- nothing. To him, you had been gone. Only a tiny whisper had remained, one he had cradled and shared his own power with, secretly fed his energy to. You wrapped yourself around him like an embrace.

“Thank you. I’m so sorry I scared you.”

Gratitude flooded you from him, too. You had protected him. Saved him despite the personal cost. As if that mattered- you’d do it again in a heartbeat.

Please don’t. Not yet.

You nestled around him and made no promises.

Mando had been hurt, but was on the mend. You were glad to hear it; it wouldn’t do for Grogu to lose his new guardian so soon, and you had to admit you were growing fond of the shiny protector. You and Grogu joined him outside, where he was leaning by the door, watching the world. Relaxing, maybe, if that was something he knew how to do. He would deserve it. When Grogu sidled up to his boot he looked down, chuckling.

“Hey, Kid.”

He scooped him up and you with him, the pair of you held up by the Mandalorian. It was… nice, you supposed. The Beskar was still stubbornly pushing you away, but you didn’t mind it so much- in fact, it made you feel more present. You could lean against it knowing it would never allow you to sink through- you never remembered just how cold you were when you brushed against it, only a kinship with an object that could never get warm.

The three of you watched the village, farmers going about their work and children playing, a sanctuary safe once more. You reached for them both, Mando and Grogu, sneaking between pieces of armour to connect with them, share in the moment of relief. They were both safe. Mando’s emotions were easier to read when you had contact like this, and you felt his relief too, but also curiosity, a growing worry.

“So, Kid- are you gonna tell me what happened at the barn?”

His vocoder hid all the emotion away, but you imagined his voice was laced with concern. Grogu looked up at him with innocent eyes.

“Because everyone in the village is talking about this Ghost, and if anyone would know…”

Endearing, the way Mando spoke to him. You turned on Grogu too, and you could imagine what he saw; two expectant faces- or maybe not a face, in your case- wanting answers.

“A ghost?” You asked eagerly, rising level with Mando’s helmet. “Is that about me?”

A soft coo. A confirmation.

“They saw me,” you said. “Did I stop the raiders?”

“Maybe I’ll ask the villagers,” Mando mused, softly tweaking Grogu’s ear.

“Oh yeah, we should do that,” you confirmed, circling his head. “You should ask them now, so we can—”

“I’ll wait until dinner. Its become a new favourite fireside tale, according to Omera.”

You huffed, and then shared a look with Grogu over the casually careful mention of the widow.

��For now, kid, go play; I think the frogs have finally started coming back- battle scared them off for a while.”

Grogu made a high-pitched noise of delight and Mando put him down, letting him toddle off toward the ponds. You lingered for a second, eyeing Mando.

“You’re good with him,” you said. “I’m glad he has you.”

Then you followed your little green friend to have some fun.

When the light faded and the children were all played out and put to bed, you left Grogu in the hut and joined Mando at the fire, where the adults had gathered for an evening spotchka. Now the threat had gone, Mando had forgone his weapons, and he and Cara sat unarmed with the others, she passing a jug around, him sitting politely with his hands on his knees. Every time someone offered him a sip, he quietly- but not unkindly- declined. He looked endearingly lost amongst the chatter, a figure built for battle forced to sit and socialise, hands unsure without a blaster to fiddle with. You enjoyed the evenings, felt a little melancholy whenever you had something to say but no mouth to say it with. One-on-one, you could make yourself heard, if only as a whisper or a passing breeze, but in such a big group, you were as silent as the distant stars.

“You’re not still believing we have a ghost problem now,” a villager laughed, catching your attention immediately. Another, one you recognised from the barn, nodded seriously.

“I saw it. It saved us. Surrounded, we were- those big Klantoonians would’ve run us through if not for the Ghost.”

“What could a ghost do? Haunt them away?” The first farmer teased.

“It appeared in front of us, between us and them. Like an angel it was, all lit up by the fire. It raised its arms and they all flew backward like they were nothing, thrown away from us. By the time they got up, all their friends were retreating and we had back-up, so they ran too.”

“What happened to the ghost?” Mando asked. The farmer seemed nervous under his attention, which made you snicker. You gathered around his pauldrons, pretending the farmer’s eyes were on you as he spoke.

“Well, it- it went toward the barn. But it… it was getting smaller. Harder to see. Like it was hurt. We followed it in, and it went to the children and just- disappeared.”

You went back to Grogu. Naturally. Mando’s helmet tilted, and you could imagine he was frowning.

“What did it look like?” He asked. His curiosity was strong enough that you could pick up on it even through his armour. Or maybe you were projecting- you were intensely curious too.

“Human, I think. It had a cloak on, or robes of some kind. Couldn’t tell much else, its back was to me.”

Human. Yes, that felt right; when you imagined a physical form, it was always human. You’d never really imagined clothes, though. The fact that your ghostly form was clear enough to be wearing clothes delighted you, though. You had been human. A human ghost.

Does that mean you were… dead?

It didn’t seem so bad. Being dead. You couldn’t really remember being alive, so comparisons couldn’t be made but this… wasn’t terrible. You were still here. You were visible- sometimes. People could hear you occasionally, and you had some influence over the physical. Not a bad deal, all in all.

“You seen anything like that before, Mando?” Cara asked.

“No,” he said, but you saw his helmet turn a fraction, toward his hut where Grogu slept. No, he’d never seen a ghost before, but he had seen some things that couldn’t be explained since meeting Grogu. You wanted to reach into his mind and help him, connect some dots, but that helmet would never let you. You wondered if he would ever discover the truth, or if he would chalk it up to the Kid, his powers. He was smart enough to realise that you and Grogu were connected, somehow. Maybe he would figure it out. You hoped he would.

When the stories were told and the bottle drained, Mando made his way back to the hut, quickly checking on Grogu in the dark before preparing for bed. You settled around your youngling, protective even now, quietly observing Mando as he took off his boots. You thought he’d just lie down fully clothed the way he usually did, but got a shock when he reached up and removed one pauldron, and then the other.

It felt wrong to watch him remove his armour piece by piece, but you couldn’t look away. With every piece he removed he was revealed to you, a man of flesh and bone, still big and broad but not so impenetrable. He was tired, he was deep in thought, he was relaxed- as much as a hardened bounty hunter could be relaxed. He looked much softer without the beskar, which was carefully, reverently, placed in a neat pile near his bed.

Watching him remove the thigh plates felt downright sinful. Oh, if Omera could see this now.

You had to turn away, for your own sanity as well as his privacy. Maybe you should be pleased, that no one else was seeing this, even if you weren’t supposed to see either. He hadn’t even shown any skin, you hadn’t technically seen any more than you had already, but it still affected you, to watch him shed the one layer that kept you out.

You heard a huff of air, and then one more clink of metal touching a hard surface, and you knew that his helmet was off.

Oh, how tempting. How easy it would be to reach into his mind, to curl around his consciousness and say hello. You could just look; see a face constantly out of sight. It had tickled your curiosity, his appearance. You wanted to observe him, but you hesitated, keeping your vision on your sleeping youngling, his mind lulled and dreamless for once. No one had ever seen his face. Mando never removed his helmet, not even in front of Grogu, not even in the privacy of space, the ultimate solitude. There was a reason, there had to be, though you didn’t know what it was.

Fabric rustled and you heard the man lie down, sensed him turn away from the room at large, face the wall. No, you decided. No, you would not look. Not until you found out why he had that helmet, why not even the child had seen him without it. Instead, you settled in Grogu’s cot, seeping into his sleeping mind where you were allowed and welcomed, and supplying him with dreams of flying.

The armour came off regularly, after that. Only at night of course, when no one was around to see it- Except you, but you supposed that didn’t count. Sorgan had softened Mando somewhat, allowed him to relax, and it had done wonders for Grogu; your youngling ran and babbled and played, his motor skills improved tenfold, and your morning meditations had started to include some heart-to-hearts that had you wanting to weep with pride. His rage and sadness seemed lessened here, and yours too seemed to vanish, though the cold remained. Weeks passed, of sunlit days and delicate nights, of glances between soft brown eyes and a dark visor, of carefree games.

You thought you would stay. Began expecting it, as time passed and the Mandalorian didn’t return to his ship. There was something growing to bother him, you could tell, but he gave no signs that he would make Grogu leave Sorgan, and you found yourself thinking of a future there, where you could watch your youngling have a proper childhood. Maybe observe a growing romance between Mando and Omera, try not to feel jealous of all these people and their physical lives.

But all good things must come to an end, and the end came one sunny day when Mando was finally getting somewhere with Omera.

You gave them their privacy, but had shared a giggle with Grogu as you watched him approach her by a pond, before the little one got bored and began playing once more, surrounded by his friends. Distracted by a glint of silver, you watched Omera reach for Mando, totally engrossed as she grasped his helmet, until a shiver went through you, and you looked around, confused and suddenly alert. You thought, if you had hair, it would’ve just stood on end.

You expanded, ripping through the village and to the trees, a quick sweep to settle your sudden spike of anxiety, the dread that hit you like a bantha.

There- a familiar beeping.

You rushed back to Grogu, and the blaster shot had you throwing yourself around him, shielding him whilst the others screamed and ran. Mando was running off to the source whilst Omera gathered Grogu up, sweeping you along with her. This close to her, her thoughts poured into you, and you got a first-hand account of her conversation with Mando.

Damn, she had been so close to getting that helmet off. You echoed her disappointment, felt it on your own behalf, too. He was going to leave Grogu. You understood why, really you did. But that would mean he left you, too. And you wouldn’t get a goodbye the way Omera did.

Now, you didn’t think you would be seeing the last of Mando by a long shot. Especially when he returned and began packing up his things in earnest, he and Cara discussing how the bounty hunter could’ve found them, what he should do with the child. You should be upset- Grogu wasn’t safe here, which means he wouldn’t be safe anywhere, a hunted child no matter where he went- but you couldn’t help but feel a rush at the idea of being back on the move, of danger and adrenaline. Of being around Mando.

It did lessen, watching Grogu say goodbye. He really had settled here. You gathered around him as you left, comforting him, Letting Mando take you both back to the Crest, where your world was transformed from greens and blues, laughter and company, to gunmetal grey and quiet spaces, only the rumble of the ship to fill the silence.

You had missed hyperspace, though. You settled in the spare seat of the cockpit, watching the stars, not knowing what would happen next.

How exciting.

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