Kadala

As he enters the cockpit, Mando slumps down with exhaustion on the pilot's chair, keenly aware of the bruises on his body. He closes his eyes, giving himself time to summon the energy to move. He just needs to catch his breath.

Even stretching out his hand and ignite the engines to take off seems a Herculean task. He knows, however, that once the Razor Crest is lost in the vastness of space, he could take a long, well-deserved nap.

The job he'd taken two days ago when he arrived at this forsaken planet didn't go as smoothly as he would've liked. He got a handsome reward for it, however. The revenue will allow him to focus on his primary mission of finding the child's people, instead of constantly worrying about how to provide whatever they need during the journey.

The wisest course of action is not to attract too much attention to them. Mando hopes that there will be no more hunters out for the baby, but you never know. He has seen too much in life to know that enemies can make an appearance at any time, anywhere.

By creed, he has the duty to protect the foundling until he's reunited with his people.

"You are as its father… You are now a clan of two."

The armorer's words echo in his head. Mando doesn't dare to dwell too much on how that makes him feel, yet he won't elude his responsibility.

There's nothing, no rustling or sound, that gives away his approach but Mando is suddenly aware of the tiny figure standing at the doorway. A wave of undeniable worry, that's not his, slaps him in full force before an unhappy coo breaks the silence.

"I'm okay, kid," Mando says gruffly behind his helmet, without opening his eyes. "Go back to sleep."

Vaguely, he marvels how yet again the kid has escaped from the bunk compartment in which he usually locks him up. It shouldn't be much of a surprise since Mando has witnessed the power the child wields with his tiny hands. Nothing is childproof for this kid.

A few seconds later, Mando feels the said tiny hands clawing at his right boot. Opening his eyes and looking down, he watches the baby trying to climb up his leg to his lap. The kid looks up, his ears twitching slightly and his big, dark eyes gazing intently at him. This is not the first time Mando feels as if the kid's gaze can penetrate the cover of his helmet. 

The instinct to remain faceless, to hold up to the Mandalorian creed, manifests itself to a lesser degree than normal. Mando doesn't know why. Maybe it's because he's still reeling about the fact IG-11 took his helmet off a few days ago to save him. Mando was ready to die and, yet, as terrified as he was to break the code and to trust in the newly-reprogrammed nanny, Mando let the droid to take it off. Never in his life, would he have believed that he would trust somewhat in a droid.

Perhaps, it's because of the bond he shares with the baby. He will deny it to anyone else, but he can't lie to himself. The charm cast by the kid is powerful and irresistible. Mando fell into its spell.

To the Mandalorians, children are precious and every adult has the duty to protect them. So, it shouldn't be unexpected that Mando has developed a protective instinct for the child. It started as nothing but the need to do the right thing back when he rescued the baby from the hands of the client. As time passed, however, the instinct evolved and grew to something more, something that Mando can't define yet.

Mando leans forward, hissing a curse as his ribs protest. Judging by how acute pain is, it leads Mando to think that he might've bruised a couple of them in the fight he had earlier. Ignoring the discomfort, he picks the baby up. The kid makes noises, a mix of happiness and apprehension, as he sits on Mando's lap and grips the Beskar breastplate tightly.

"I'm okay," he repeats. "I've had worse."

His reassurance has little effect. The baby whines softly and places his right hand open over Mando's left side of his torso. His intentions become clear to Mando when the kid squints his eyes in concentration.

Mando takes the baby's hand gently off the breastplate. "No need to do that. I'll heal on my own," the words come out soft-spoken even through the modulator in the helmet. Mando knows that using those powers take a toll on the baby. There's no need for the little one to drain himself when Mando will be good as new after a good night's rest.

As the stubborn little womp rat that he is, the kid stands on Mando's thighs and put his hand back on the breastplate and gazes up at him. His eyes plead earnestly.

They look at each other, neither wanting to yield. Then, throwing a low blow, the kid flattens his ears and whines unhappily. The sound wrings a string in Mando's heart. Damn it! He should have more willpower than this. He should be firm with the kid and say no.

Letting out a heavy sigh, Mando yields, "Fine. You can do your magic hand thing."

The echo of Greef Karga's words makes him smirk under the helmet. The kid, however, finds them confusing. He tilts his head, the creases in his forehead become more pronounced.

"Go on then, heal me so we can get off this planet."

With permission granted, the kid concentrates, all his body taut by the effort. Mando had seen it, but never experienced in the flesh. It's amazing how the second the child starts using his powers, Mando feels an immense relief. Suddenly, he takes deep breaths, expanding his lungs to their fullest capacity, which he hadn't noticed he had been avoiding to do. All the pain is gone. 

Maybe his injury was graver than he thought and that's why the child had insisted so badly to heal him. Somehow, the little one knew.

For a moment, the child stands trembling because of the effort he's making. Suddenly, he flops down as his knees buckle, completely drained. Thanks to his quick reflexes, Mando catches the baby before he falls backward. Mando supports his back with one hand while, with the other, he caresses one of the kid's fluffy ears.

"Thank you," Mando says, in a voice laden with gratitude and astonishment.

The kid smiles and babbles softly at him before his eyes flutter closed for a moment. Mando takes him in his arms and cradles him against his shoulder. 

"Let's get out of here, so we both can go to our beds. I think we've earned it."

A soft, satisfied sigh is what he gets as a response. With his free hand, Mando activates the controls and ignites the engines. By the time the Razor Crest is out of the planet's atmosphere, the baby is sound asleep.

"Good night, ad'ika. May you have sweet dreams. You have nothing to worry about. I'll protect you."