"They say you are a coward"
Cato had spent his whole life running. It was all he could do. When he fought, he lost. He ran from his home, his friends, his cause, his purpose.
Now hiding on a distant planet, Cato has started a new life. His past is...
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Every breath made Cato's chest burn, the air feeling like sandpaper across a raw wound. To compensate, Cato's breaths were short and he often held his breath for short intervals to minimise the horrible pain and to keep him from completely breaking down. He could see his occasional breath fogging up the beskar of Din's pauldron and he could hear Din's shaky breaths through the helmet given his proximity.
The Child, who was cradled between them in Din's left arm, carefully clambered up and out of Din's hold and wrapped his small arms around Cato's neck. Cato shifted to hold the Child with one arm and a moment later felt the kid put his face into the crook of Cato's neck and place a tiny hand on his upper chest, a small warmth settling into Cato's skin. The pain in his chest faded a little bit and he let out a breath with a huff as he realised it. It still hurt, but it wasn't enough to make him wince anymore.
"Thank you," Cato murmured, so quietly he wasn't even sure he could hear his own words.
Din shifted back a little bit and held Cato's face in his hands to look him over. "Are you okay?" he asked quietly.
Cato nodded. "Yeah, yeah, I'll be okay," he said quietly. Then he looked over at the three Mandalorians who were watching them and instinctively he held the Child a little closer.
"Thank you," Din said and Cato looked over to see him addressing the Mandalorians. "I've been searching for more of our kind," he explained.
"Well, lucky we found you first," the woman in the center said.
"I've been quested to deliver this child, I was hoping that--,"
Din's words broke off as the three Mandalorians reached up and with a soft hiss, removed their helmets.
Cato frowned slightly and Din got to his feet, taking a couple steps to stand right in front of the woman that Cato guessed was the leader. As Cato looked over her features he felt his stomach knot with the anxiety of seeing someone you once knew very well.
The woman didn't seem particularly concerned about them, her expression calm though guarded. And while it had been a very long time, the memories half-there like the final remains of a long forgotten life, Cato had no doubt of who it was.
"Where did you get that armour?" Din questioned, and fearing that a fight could break out, Cato got to his feet, wishing he had something to lean on.
The red haired woman in the lead narrowed her eyes at Din and Cato caught the glance the two other Mandalorians shared with each other. "This armour has been in my family for three generations," she said, almost taken aback by Din's question.
"You do not cover your face. You are not Mandalorian."
The three strangers' faces suddenly hardened and Cato realised where this was going. Through his whole childhood Cato had never come across the rule that stated that a Mandalorian could never show their face and when he had met Din he had assumed that it was a rule that had evolved with the expansion of the Empire as a tactic of secrecy. But now he was realising that based on these three Mandalorian's reactions there was a sect involved in this story and he had an uneasy feeling about the roots of these sects.
