tritanopia | The Mandalorian

nineteen

Mando hadn't at all enjoyed having to set Fae's fingers back into place — all five of them.

He hadn't waited very long to do so — Fae still consumed in her fit of hysteria as Mando shouted as loud as he possibly could for Cara. The adrenaline racing through her veins was still evidently present, her breathing erratic and pulse off the charts, and usually that would have been a bad thing — but Mando decided to use it to his advantage in the hopes that her survival instincts would smother the pain he was about to cause.

But that wasn't exactly how it ended up going.

Mando had previously thought that seeing and hearing Fae scream and cry as if she wholeheartedly believed he was trying to kill her only minutes prior had to be one of the worst experiences of his life. But somehow, hearing the gut wrenching sobs, which were a result of him snapping only one finger back into place, was far worse. Despite the fact that they were muffled due to Fae's face being buried into Cara's shoulder, Mando cursed himself mentally at every single sound of pain the girl made — because he resented the fact that it was him who was causing it.

Cara left after helping Mando fix Fae's nose, which had been the worst part, and returned back to her own hut. She had known he had wanted to talk to the teenager alone, so she left them to it despite the fact all she wanted to do was hold and comfort Fae until the tears stopped streaming down her face. However, she made sure to drag the corpse of the raider out with her — Fae's dull eyes not having stopped staring at it for a frightening amount of time.

Even after Cara had left, leaving a trail of blood behind her due to the lifeless body she carried, Fae kept staring at where it at been. And not staring in the way Mando had seen her do in the past — the passenger seat look. No, this time Fae wasn't looking through the splattered stain on the hardwood floor — her eyes were fixed directly onto the bloodshed which was still yet to dry, and would probably attract flies once it did.

Fae knew Mando was speaking to her, it wasn't that her ears had stopped working. She was just so damn tired that she couldn't be bothered to hear what he was saying. As if he was speaking a foreign language — she heard every word he said, they just didn't make sense.

He himself knew that she wasn't listening. He was gently cleaning the copious amount of blood coating her porcelain skin with a damp cloth. Ever so carefully dragging it across her chin and below her eyes, trying his very best to leave her bruised nose untouched. Not much thought went into the things he was saying, simply grasping at straws in a desperate attempt to get the girl to say something — anything — but she just kept staring.

Eventually Mando gave up, setting the stained cloth down beside him with a sigh. He just didn't know what to do. The man wasn't used to caring, to being even remotely concerned about anyone but himself. He didn't know what to do with the fear rooted in his chest over the painful vacancy trapped within Fae's eyes. But the Gods knew he really was trying.

"Fae," He said, voice thin and tired, as he set his hand down on her bicep, "I know you're scared and in shock, but you need to-"

"I can't really be too shocked," Fae suddenly mumbled, her gaze finally tearing away from what they had seemingly found so interesting, to land on Mando's visor. Her own voice sounding just as tired as his, if not more so, and painfully hoarse, "It was me who did it."

Mando hesitated, his grip almost slipping as the heavy weight on his shoulders was alleviated by the fact she was actually talking.

"You're right, it was," His hand tightened on her arm as he spoke, to emphasise his words, "But you did the right thing, okay? He was going to kill you, Fae."