Cataclysm ─── The Mandalorian. ¹

ix. stardust

            She watches him quietly, skin tingling. "Oh," she manages, uncertain of what else to say.

            Taking a dampened cloth, Mando gently touches it to the wound, taking off particles of dust and sand that had become stuck to her raw skin. She refrains from making any noise, but he can tell from the tense lines in her arms that it hurts; she just doesn't want to show it. Dropping the cloth onto the ground, Mando picks up the cannister of ointment, unscrewing the top deftly. He almost considers removing a glove to dip into the pot and smear the medicine on her arm with a bare finger to make the application easier but dismisses it as nonsensical.

            "This might sting," the bounty hunter warns, dipping his finger.

            "I'm a tough bitch," Zoya says, in true Zoya fashion.

            He snorts. "Right."

            Without further ado, he spreads the blueish cream across the blaster burn, taking care to cover all the edges of the wound. He pretends not to notice when she sinks her teeth into her lower lip as it starts taking effect, probably stinging. When he's satisfied with the coating, he reaches for the bandages.

            "Hold this part here," he says, fingers pressing the end of the bandage to the tender skin on the underside of her arm. Zoya complies without a word, which is uncharacteristic. Her fingertips brush his, and at the jolt of contact, Mando yanks his hand back abruptly, eliminating the connection between them.

            Zoya doesn't miss how quickly he pulls away.

            As he wraps the cloth securely around her arm, tightly enough that they won't slip right away, Zoya lifts and lowers and twists her arm to help him. While she does this, he notices something on her inner forearm, black numerals with thickly printed stems that stand out against her skin. Mando's movements stall, and Zoya takes notice.

            When she realizes what he's staring at, she twists her arm away, turning those strong hazel eyes on him. "What?" she asks tightly.

            It's his cue to say nothing and move on, but he doesn't. "Is that your tattoo?" At the way her stare bores into his, Mando shifts in his crouch. "The Jawas were calling you 'Tattoo' when they had you captive," he clarifies, telling her how he'd already known about it.

            "Yes." Zoya looks down and, after a beat, carefully turns her forearm so he can see the pattern of numbers. "This is what they gave me after . . . after I was sentenced." She carefully avoids what she'd been about to say: that it was after he turned her in that she was given the tattoo. He notices all the same but just keeps his eyes on the numbers.

            073942

            It doesn't seem like Zoya can be defined by the short list; she's too bright, too loud, too sarcastic and quick-witted, too foul-mouthed. The tattoo minimizes her spirit, turns her into just a number on a page.

            "I'm sorry," the Mandalorian says.

            Zoya looks towards the child, reaching for the controls again as silence envelops them with its cool embrace. "It's not your fault," she admits aloud for the first time, voice quiet and timid, as if she's afraid.

            "But—"

            "It's your job," Zoya interrupts. "I'm an asshole for using that against you."

            Without thinking about it, the Mandalorian reaches forward and runs a gloved finger along the bar of the 7. The curve of her neck is illuminated by starlight, and her throat bobs, but she doesn't pull away.

            "You're right," he says, dropping his hand to his knee.           

            Zoya rolls her eyes, brushing off the moment as he does the same. "You were supposed to say that I'm not, dumbass."

            "I don't lie."

            "Sure."

            He finishes tying off the bandage and stands, turning to see the child pressing a button, now standing on the control panel. "You were supposed to be watching him," he directs at Zoya, stepping towards the baby.

            "You didn't tell me to," she objects.

            He presses a couple buttons, but the little green-skinned creature pokes at something else. "Stop touching things," he commands. It just stares at him, then leans back and pushes a switch. The entire ship rattles, and Mando reaches out to pick him up. "Take him."

            "You could ask politely," Zoya mutters, but she stands up anyway, moving forward to take the child from the Mandalorian's outstretched arms.

            "It's time to figure out where to go," he says neutrally, all business once more.

            Zoya rocks the child. "Well, figure it out."

            It sounds like he sighs in annoyance, which brings a muted grin to Zoya's lips. He studies a screen. "Let's see," he muses. "Sorgan." The name is unfamiliar. "Looks like there's no star port, no industrial centers, no population density." Zoya leans over his shoulder to get a look at the diagram he reads. "Real backwater skug hole."

            "That's. . . nice."

            "We're not looking for nice," Mando says. "This is perfect." He turns a little in the pilot seat and reaches for the child. Zoya hands him over, and the Mandalorian tucks him into the crook of his arm. "Ready to lay low and stretch your legs for a couple of months, you little womp rat? Nobody's gonna find us here."

            Zoya frowns and folds her arms across her chest, wincing as the skin on her injured shoulder pulls, watching the child look at him with its luminous round eyes. "You're nicer to him than you are to me."

            "I don't call you a womp rat."

            "You said I was an asshole."

            "After you said it first," Mando points out.

            "Asshole is worse than womp rat."

            Beneath the helmet, the bounty hunter rolls his eyes. "I can call you a womp rat if you want me to."

            Zoya wrinkles her nose at him. "Don't."

            "Then I don't know what you're complaining about."

            She huffs and marches away from the pilot's chair to settle back into her own seat, crossing her legs. "I hate you."

            "I know."

｡･:*:･ﾟ✧ ｡･:*:･ﾟ

not as much rlly happened in this chapter and i'm sorry but,,,,,

fluff (ﾉ◕ ◡ ◕)ﾉ*:･ﾟ✧