Bounty hunting is a complicated profession

Eye-opener

"What are you doing?" Mando's voice startled you.

By the looks of it, he had taken a shower and even cleaned up his armour — although the only piece of beskar he wore was the helmet, it was shiny again — which meant that you had been sitting there, looking at the hyperdrive motivator, for a long time.

He smelled fresh, like the soap you had in the refresher but mixed with something else. It was a smell you instinctively associated with him although you couldn't properly identify what it was. Probably whatever he had used to clean and polish his armour, you assumed.

As you stood, your legs cramped — more evidence that you had been there for quite a while — and he offered you a hand to help you.

The moment you were up, his hand left yours and reached for your cheek to wipe away the tears that were falling from your eyes.

'What in the blazes?!' — you thought as you took a step away from him and rubbed your eyes. How ridiculous was it that you hadn't even been aware that you were crying?

"Let's talk." He said but you shook your head.

"I'm fine." You lied.

"Are you?" He asked sceptically but you ignored the implication of his tone and just nodded.

"Ok." He whispered as he sat down. You stood there not sure about what to do and you were on the brink of asking him about the hyperdrive when he talked again.

"I told you that I swore the Creed when I was about ten right?" He asked, completely out of the blue. You nodded gingerly. "I was found when I was six so I had to learn all about the Way of the Mandalore before I could swear it. The kids who were Mandalorian born and raised though, usually swear the Creed and get their helmets much sooner, when about five."

'Five?' You thought as you remembered the pile of helmets and felt like you were going to be sick. Why was he telling you this? Why did he want to make you feel even worse than what you were already feeling? He looked at your expression and sighed.

"I'm not saying this to make you feel bad but to make you understand that you're not fine. You clearly need to talk about it, to let it out. Otherwise, it'll eat you up from the inside."

"And you?" You asked him angrily although you didn't even know what you were angry about. "You don't need to talk? You feel nothing?"

"Of course I do and you know it." He said in a low voice filled with pain.

"But you don't talk about it, why should I?"

"Because you're not like me." He said agitatedly. "I was raised by the most feared warriors in the galaxy, for us death is an inevitable part of who we are. Am I hurt? Yes, but I have learnt to reconcile with those feelings. For a Mandalorian there's no better way to leave this world than with a warrior's death."

"I can be like you. I can detach myself—"

"No! You're not like me and I don't want you to be!" He growled and then took a deep breath to calm himself down. "You're the most gentle being I have ever met. Stars! You forgave me after I gave you away to those Imps! That's exactly why I know you're putting all of this on you and you can't do that."

"I can't stop." You told him with a pleading expression on your face. "There were children and Kuiil… because of me!" You collapsed on your chair, unable to go on, as you covered your face with your hands. 

"None of that was your fault. Kuiil came because he wanted to, he understood the risk he was taking." He said calmly. "Look, I understand the need to blame someone but that someone isn't you. I am the one who made the decisions. I went back for you fully aware that it was against the Guild's code. If you want to be angry with me that'd be fair, but don't put this on yourself."