tritanopia | The Mandalorian

three

Truth be told, Fae had experience her fair share of hangovers in her life.

Perhaps that made her bad influence, but a bad influence on who? Everybody in her life was older than her; if anything, they were the ones influencing her.

Well, not influencing.

Unknowingly encouraging.

The absolute, concentrated misery that hung around her was all caused by them. And they likely didn't even know it. Or they did, maybe she'll never know.

So, she drank; as often as she could get her hands on the liquor, and as much as she could get, too.

Simple for a glimpse of relief from everything.

From what she'd seen, experienced, lived.

All of it.

And headaches happened to go hand in hand with those actions, so when Fae opened her eyes only a fractional amount and was met with a white hot pain in her skull, her immediate assumption was that she was waking from a bender she partook in the previous night. However, the hot sticky blood she felt pouring from the same area said otherwise.

Without thinking twice, or opening her eyes due to the painful pressure behind them, Fae slowly stood up before taking a few steps forward. Or, that was the plan. For as soon as her right foot even made it half a step, she tripped on something and proceeded to fall, not so gracefully, flat on her face for the second time that day.

"Fuck," She groaned under her breath while using her hand to push herself, noticing her wrists were still cuffed as she did.

Once on her knees, and able to open her eyes without regretting every life decision she ever made, she glanced around to room.

It was the ship.

The same ship.

The same crappy ship that Fae was surprised could even fly.

And of course, sat in the pilot seat as if he had always been there, and always would be, was the Mandalorian.

The same Mandalorian that kidnapped her.

The same Mandalorian that smacked a rock into the side of her head-

"Did you hit me over the head with a rock?!" She yelled incredulously from her spot on the floor. When he didn't even turn around, she repeated, "A rock?! Was that really necessary? You could have killed me — or at least given me brain damage! I'm half your size, are you simply that weak you couldn't take me without a little help? You should be glad I'm not dead."

"A second before I hit you, you seemed pretty happy in death," His modulated voice suddenly spoke up while Fae inspected the chain around her ankle which was then attached to the copilot chair.

Her head snapped up, "Oh, that's where you're gonna chime in?" She said with every word dripping with more venom than the last.

With much struggle, she managed to heave herself into the seat she had been bound to. Although, one leg had to bend at an unnatural angle in order to accommodate for the metal sealed around her ankle.

For a few minutes the pair just sat in silence. Not awkward and yet not comfortable, it was almost as if she wasn't even there — and therefore the room was free of tension since, as far as it was aware, she didn't exist.

"Are you just going to ignore me?" Fae spoke up after a failed attempt at sleep, although that was probably for the best as she was likely sporting a fashionable concussion.

And, as you easily could have guessed, his silence answered her question rather well.

Several seconds past before she decided to open her mouth again, "Who wants me?" She already knew, so Fae didn't really know why she was asking. To make conversation and pass the time? Who knew — she didn't.

A few more seconds.

"Where are we going?"

And a few more.

"Why didn't you just kill me? I mean you did threaten to kill me first, so it kind of makes no sense why you felt such a desperate need to stop me. In fact, when you think about it-" She had been rambling with her chin resting on her knees, eyes closed in an attempt to ease the rave in her skull, so she hadn't noticed that the bounty hunter had stood up until she felt the cuffs around her wrists tighten significantly. "Ow-!"

"Stop talking," He commanded while returning to his seat.

"Yes sir," She quipped with a mock salute she was sure he couldn't even see from where he was sat. Although he did spin around once again to give her a sharp look. Well, what Fae assumed was a sharp look, the helmet did make it hard to tell, obviously. In fact, the teenager had to hold down a laugh when she imagined if he was actually pulling a face at her.

And then it was back to the familiar silence as if she simply wasn't present, and eventually Fae did manage to fall asleep without simultaneously falling out of her chair.

She dreamt, but they weren't good dreams. They never really were.

She dreamt that she was back, at 'home'. She never escaped and she never would and she simply had to sit and come to terms with that fact. That was how it was, in the dream. And she cried. She cried until her little lungs aches and her cheeks were dusted with salt from the tears which dried up once they ran out.

If it wasn't for the occasional sniffle, or hiccup, the Mandalorian would have completely blocked her out of his environment. By the fourth or fifth whimper, he snapped around in his chair, assuming she was consciously crying and ready to scold her for it. But she wasn't conscious; nor was she really crying.

A single tear rolled down her cheek, gathering on her chin before lazily falling to land on the armrest of the co-pilot chair.

He stared at her. Only for a short while, wondering what this girl could have possibly done to deserve the impressive bounty dangling above her head like a guillotine. Based on his short experience with her, a few very wrong words from her sharp mouth to the very wrong person was plausible. But not to the extent she was wanted, or by who.

But in the end, he didn't even care why she was wanted — or what would happen to her once he handed her over. Or why she would rather die than be handed over.

No, he didn't care.

So he turned back to the universe and pretended like the distressed teenager in the seat next to him was simply nothing.

She was nothing.