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DIN DJARIN HAD never been so alone.
Not when he was a child, small hands gliding over sheeted metal and a helmet set permanently over his crown of chestnut hair. Not when he was grown, making his way tirelessly through the galaxy, picking up job after job, the thrill of the catch never quite enough to quench the thirst inside him. Not when he gave away the small child he'd picked up on Nevarro to the Client.
Those were all fleeting, involuntary passes of time that would eventually fade into the background. The noise would die and a dull thrum of everyday monotony would take its place.
No, this was different. This was deafening. This was pure silence. This loneliness was alive, teeth as sharp as the eyes of the monster they hung from. This loneliness swallowed him whole and refused to spit him back out.
Din Djarin had never been so lost.
His knees were soiled with ash and blood and the remnants of his old life. Two figures stood watching him, taking in the slump of his shoulders, the tightness in which he squeezed the ripped fabric of Tess' coat.
He'd given it to her on the ice planet, back when she still wanted nothing to do with him. Selfish and unflinching and entirely fascinating. She'd smiled that day, the first genuine smile he had seen spread across her face. Just like the surface of that planet, the day Din gave Tess Oprin his jacket was the day the ice finally started to crack. Over time, more fractures, more breaks in the walls built up around them. Little by little, snide remark after snide remark, they had melted away.
Both were not the same as they were the day they met on Tatooine. Then, Din had never broken a promise. Then, she was smart enough to stay away from him. Then, then, then...
He was drowning in the possibilities of what he could have done. Everything to keep himself from realising what had been done.
The impossible choice he had made. The look in her eyes as the damned Mercenary got to her first. Grogu snatched up into the droid's hands before Din could reach him. Lost, lost, lost.
"Mandalorian." Boba Fett's gruff and chiselled voice cut through his thoughts, and dug a hole straight through him. The remains of what was once the Razor Crest smouldered around him. The Imperial ship was long gone, there was nothing anyone could do about that. All that was left were the two objects in his hands.
"Let me go." He hissed under his breath, quiet enough that not even his modulator could make out the words. They were for him and him alone. Din forced himself up, fingers stained with ash as he picked up the Beskar spear from under the rubble, dusting it off with care. He turned to face Boba and Fennec. "I guess our deal is complete." Boba had shown him the chain code embedded in Cobb Vanth's former armour, revealing that his father, Jango Fett, was a foundling, and therefore, the armour was his.
