Crawl Home to Her | Mandalorian x OC

chapter three

It's not for a while until Din finds himself back on Tatooine again. With Moff Gideon off his back, he could freely roam the Outer Rim without fear of the bounty on the child's head. Now, trying to reunite the child with his kind, the Jedi, he knew he would need the help of the Mandalorians. Now it was merely a matter of trying to find them, which was proving in itself, difficult. But apparently, there was another Mandalorian, here on Tatooine.

Din's mind wandered over to the sweet, blind Innkeeper. He knew he would need someone to look after the child again, perhaps she wouldn't mind again.

He landed in Hangar 3-5, allowing Peli and her droids to work on the Razor Crest. He got his directions to Mos Pelgo from the engineer, a day or two ride by speeder. Thanking her, he made his way back towards the Inn, a strange beating in his chest as he walked down the familiar hall.

To his surprise, the Innkeeper was at the front desk, the droid from her room was beeping beside her as she went through papers as she spoke mindlessly to it. She ceased in her actions when he stepped closer into the room. In the blink of an eye, she was smiling outwards, but it was small and polite. "Hello, how may I help you?"

"It's. . . it's me."

The corner of her mouth twitched as her small smile turned into a wide grin. "Ah, the Mandalorian has returned! Another room?"

"Actually, I was going to ask if you could watch over the child again."

"Am I your go-to babysitter now?" She asked playfully. "Will you be gone for long or?"

"A few days at most, I'm going to Mos Pelgo. There's another Mandalorian there, I need their help."

The Innkeeper tilted her head, curiously. "What for?"

"I'm to return him to his kind," he answered. Looking down at the open pod, the child looked up at him with those big eyes. His heart strings pulled at the sight. Over the time he'd had the child in his custody, he grew very fond of the child, but despite the fondness, he needed to be with his own people.

"Well then, I'll do my best to keep him out of trouble."

It took Din a few days to return to Mos Eisley, unable to leave until the dragon was slayed and the beskar armor was in his possession. His body was aching, begging for rest as he made his way towards the inn to pick up the child.

Like the last time he picked him up, Din went straight to the apartment behind the desk. There he saw the Innkeeper sitting at the table, eating quietly by herself. Floating off to the side was the pod, the child sleeping soundlessly inside. The Innkeeper perked up at the sound of his footsteps.

"Mando?"

"Hi," he practically groaned. Maker, he needed to hit the refresher. Apparently the Innkeeper could tell that too as she scrunched up her nose, probably smelling the dried dragon guts from where she sat.

"Kriff, why did you have to come back while I was eating?" She pinched her nose, trying her best to hide away from his unfortunate stench. "My room, 'fresher is to the right. Please get rid of that awful stench."

Din chuckled at her slight over dramaticness, but obliged. "I have meat for you," he said, placing it on the counter.

"I'll cook it whilst you clean up. . . dank farrik, you stink! Go!" She waved him off towards her room.

As Din suspected, it was just as particularly organized as the rest of her living quarters. Opening the refresher, he stepped in. Slowly, he removed his helmet, cleaning it best he could before cleaning himself. Once the rest of his armor was as spotless as it could be, Din used the sonic shower to clean himself off, best as he could. The dirt and grim falling off him. Armor all put back on, he stepped back out, the smell of grilled meat filling his senses.

"You smell better now," the Innkeeper commented as she slowly turned the meat over the fire. Seating himself at the table, Din glanced into the open pram, watching as the child slept. "He missed you."

"He did?" Din looked up as he watched the Innkeeper walk around the kitchen, throwing a mixture of different herbs over the meat as it cooked.

"Mmhmm, he was very fussy. Always staring at the door, refusing to go to bed. I only just managed to get him to sleep before you arrived."

Din only hummed in response.

A silence fell over them again, quiet besides the sizzle of the meat and the child's quiet snores. It was the Innkeeper that broke the silence. "May I ask you a question?"

"Only if you let me ask you one," he echoed her request from the first time she watched the child.

The Innkeeper chuckled as she nodded, asking her question. "Could you describe your armor to me?"

Din's brows furrowed at the question. "Why?"

"Is that your question?" She jokingly responded. But again before he could respond, she answered. "I like getting a mental picture of what everyone looks like in my head. Normally I would ask for what you look like, but from what I know of Mandalorian culture, your face is a private thing. So, I'd like to know what everyone else sees."

"Uhh." Din was a bit speechless, unsure of how to exactly describe himself.

"I already figured you are tall, but descriptions of colors, materials, and such help. Don't worry about being exact." She shrugged as she pulled the dragon meat from the grill. "Once a man described himself as 'the most ruggedly handsome man I unfortunately could never see'. But his wookie called him out on it." The Innkeeper giggled.

"Beskar, my armor is made of beskar. It's silver, my flight suit is. . . dark brown?" He glanced down at himself, trying to think of everything. "Armor consists of helmet, breastplate, leg guards, one of my shoulder pauldrons has the skull of a mudhorn. That's my signet . . . I have a blaster strapped to my belt, a dark grey cloak on my shoulders. And my gloves are brown, with orange tips."

"Beskar. . . it's a strong material, is it not?" She asked as she began slicing the meat.

"Yes."

She's quiet, nodding. The Innkeeper merely pursed her lips, focusing on cutting the meat. A few beats pass before she does speak again. "Your question?"

"Hmm? Oh right." He nearly forgot he had the opportunity to ask her something. Not having thought of a question, he stumbled, mentioning the first thing that came to mind. "You said you weren't born blind."

The Innkeeper inhaled sharply, but nodded in confirmation. "That is correct."

"How?"

She's quiet for a moment before she spoke again. "Do you ever get tired of people asking you why you don't take off your helmet?"

Din frowned at the returned question, but answered it nonetheless. "Yes."

"That's how I feel when people ask." She spoke with no malice or hatred. But she was firm and direct in her words as she put the meat on a plate.

Trying to ignore the guilt that he began to feel creeping up his back, he asked another question. "Do you. . . miss it?"

The Innkeeper paused as she put the plate down in front of him. "Sight?"

"Yes."

She bit down on her lip as she moved to sit in the other chair. "Not really? I mean, I've been blind much longer than I was sighted, so it's difficult to miss when you've gone so long without it. But sometimes there are moments when I would. . . I would love to see the suns set again. One last time." Din didn't say anything, not sure what else to say about the topic. But the Innkeeper spoke first, her voice a bit more cheery, even though he could hear the forcefulness of it. "Anyways, dig in. Please."

Din's gaze moved down to the plate in front of him. His quietness prompted her to speak again.

"You can step outside to eat again, if you want. I could also close my eyes if it'll make you feel better," she said, giving him a wink.

He huffed out a laugh as he took the plate, standing. "I'll eat outside."

The Innkeeper only nodded at that, her head sightlessly following him until he stepped back out into the garden. Din knew she couldn't see him, but he could still feel the burn of her gaze as he made his way towards the alcove.