Star Wars Imagines

Din Djarin - Broken Vow

TW: injury, near death, medical procedures.

It was always hard when Mando left, leaving you and the child on the ship for often days at a time while he took part in some scughole backwater job to help the three of you continue barely scraping by. Since joining the crew, you'd grown fond of the Mandalorian's protective presence, and when it was gone, you missed it. You missed him. It wouldn't be a lie to say you'd... become attached to the man beneath the armor.

This time, though, you had felt more anxious than usual in Mando's absence. Your gut told you something was wrong— haul not that you could do anything about it. Mando made you swear early on that your number one priority would be to keep the child safe, even if that meant abandoning the Mandalorian. You'd of course agreed, not knowing you'd later develop a deep connection to the armored warrior.

As soon as you stepped out of Hangar 3-5, you understood why Mando preferred you to stay back with the kid when you were on Tatooine. This planet was the definition of backwater scughole. You cringed at the acrid stench burning in your nose.

"You better come back alive, you here me?" Peli said, your little green baby cradled in her arms. "Or else that Mandalorian will blame me for whatever tragic end you meet."

The kid cooed at you, ears drooped. Honestly, the only reason you were even leaving the safety of the Razor Crest was because of him. He'd been frantically crying at you and touching all of Mando's in-reach belongings for at least an hour before you finally got the hint.

Mando told you about the kid's powers— things he'd seen that he couldn't explain. You knew that's what was happening now. Somehow, the child could sense that his ward was in trouble.

"I'll come back. Promise." You traced your pointer finger in a criss-cross motion in front of your heart. The kid seemed to relax a little.

By the time the binary suns were dipping over the sandy horizon, you'd barely wandered through half of Mos Eisley. The spaceport was massive and, not to mention, crowded beyond belief. You weren't even sure what to look for or what you'd do when you found him, if you were being honest. During the last hour, you'd been trying not to think about finding Mando dead, stripped of his armor, without any way to know it was him.

It was that thought that made you decide to turn back in hopes of discovering that he was waiting at the ship for you to return. You spun on your heel to go back the way you came, gaze drifting over an alleyway off the main street.

The glimpse of a figure slouched against the wall made you do a double take, and for a moment, you stared at him— if that even was him over there— and tried to muster up some bravery. You couldn't tell if he was breathing from here, and you weren't sure you could handle discovering that he wasn't.

"Mando?" you called out.

No response.

Your heart dropped to the floor. He's dead, you thought as you ran to his side, only confirming his identity by his armor. You didn't even have time to be relieved because there was blood everywhere.

Thick, dark liquid stained the sand around him, soaking into the dry desert ground almost as fast as it was pouring from his... from... Force. You swallowed as you inched closer. You couldn't even tell where it was coming from.

You wanted to throw up. This couldn't be real. It was just a terrible nightmare or some sick, twisted training exercise Mando engineered to test you. Anything else— it was anything else but reality.

It was real, though. You knew that. This was real because you could see it with your own eyes. You could smell the coppery, velvet tang of his blood, the taste lingering in your mouth with each breath. It was tangibly real, but you could fix this.