SEVEN.
burdened with vigilance!
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"Mando. I've received your transmission. Wonderful news." The electronic voice breaks Zoya out of her reverie, and she lifts her head from where it rests against the wall, looking forward to see a projection of Greef Karga speaking to the Mandalorian. "Upon your return, deliver the quarry directly to the client. I have no idea if he wants to eat it or hang it on his wall," he continues, sounding amused, "but he's very antsy." Eyes widening, Zoya spots the child, now awake, climbing up the control system to play with a lever. "Safe passage! You know where to find me."
The Mandalorian presses a button to end the transmission and pulls something from the child's hands. "It's not a toy," he tells the creature in a voice that sounds very fatherly to Zoya's ears. With one hand, he lifts the child by its robe and turns in his seat to place it back in the cradle, catching Zoya staring at him as he does it. "What?"
She shakes her head. "Nothing."
The child coos, looking up at him. Zoya can just see the back of its head, but it's clear that it already idolizes the bounty hunter, gazing at him even when he's not paying attention.
He turns back to face the controls.
"What are you going to do with me when we get there?" she asks suddenly, feeling the weight of the cuffs clinging to her wrists once more. "Turn me in, like you're going to do to this poor creature?" She scowls at the back of his helmet as he refrains from answering. "Silent treatment. That's professional."
In truth, the Mandalorian doesn't answer because he doesn't know what he's going to do. If he goes according to the code and the rules for bounty hunters, he would turn her in. In theory, it's the right thing to do. But watching her with the child, seeing the break of relief wash across her face when she'd seen him come back for her with the egg, stumbling across her sleeping form while repairing the Razor Crest, her body curled around the small creature, face innocent in her slumber, he feels himself begin to stray from what he's always known to be right.
He abstains from saying any of this aloud, because he knows Zoya hates him for what he's done to her—if Mando were in her shoes, he would probably feel the same way. Instead, he says, "Watch the child."
Zoya stiffens, looking at the back of his helmeted head with divots between her eyebrows. "What, like I'm it's mother?"
"Keep it away from the controls," he says, ignoring her comment.
"Kind of hard to do with these cuffs on," she replies pointedly, tugging at them a few times for emphasis. She can't see, but he presses his lips together, an inkling of regret pulling at the pit of his stomach.
"I have a feeling you can manage."
"Stop telling me what to do," she mutters, but when he steers the cradle from his position in the pilot's chair, moving it to face her, her eyes fall upon the child and remain there, ensuring it doesn't get into any more trouble.
It stares up at her with its soft brown irises, warm and deep as puddles of melted chocolate. She reaches out to touch its head, green skin pockmarked with thin tufts of white hairs, forgetting her anger towards the Mandalorian for a brief minute as it begins to play with her fingers, making babyish gurgling noises that warm a part of her heart that she hasn't felt before.
"Hi, little one," Zoya murmurs, touching its nose with a fingertip.
The Mandalorian hears her speak and looks carefully over his shoulder, watching her interact with the child. Her hands are gentle, and there's a soft, strange expression on her face that he's never seen her wear before. A stab of guilt bites at his soul. Zoya looks completely different without the familiar filter of anger drawing her features together, and he recognizes, not for the first time, how beautiful she actually is.
It's only when she glances up and meets his gaze, locking her eyes with his unknowingly, that the bounty hunter realizes he's been staring. Clearing his throat, he says tightly, "We're entering the planet's orbit."
Zoya remains silent for a moment, those analytical, penetrating hazel eyes of hers drilling into his own. It unnerves him, as the Mandalorian knows she can't tell where his eyes are, but she stares into them nonetheless, face carefully unreadable. The fingers on his right hand that she can't see curl into a fist.
"Okay," she says finally, looking back down at the child.
He inhales, having not realized he was holding his breath.
When the ship lands, Zoya feels her shoulders tense and grips the bar she's cuffed to. She's uncertain of what's going to happen next, whether he'll drag her through the town in these restraints and hand her over to the Guild or release her. Or neither. He stands finally, after a few beats of pretending to mess with the controls. Zoya had seen that he wasn't really doing anything with them, just passing his gloved fingers across them to appear as if he was doing something important. He turns around, and she looks up at him, unsure.
"Now what?" she asks.
"I'm taking the child."
The words crack like a whip, striking at her heart. Zoya's eyes flicker down to the creature, who chews on one of its fingers. "I know." Her lips press together. "I meant to ask what you're planning to do with me."
"There's a few things I'm considering," the bounty hunter says roughly, moving soundlessly forward across the floor of the Razor Crest, buttons glowing on the control panel behind him like dozens of tiny supernovas.
Zoya swallows. "Like?"
"I haven't decided." He steps around the edge of the pilot's seat and fiddles with the controls for the cradle on his forearm. It raises up a bit higher and moves to his side. Zoya waits on baited breath, ready for him to unlock her cuffs, but he moves right past her, heading for the already lowering ramp.
"Hey!" she calls.
He turns. "What?"
"You're just gonna leave me here?"
"Yes."
She grits her teeth together. "Remember what happened last time?"
"Last time, we were in the middle of nowhere." The Mandalorian pivots on his heel, the child at his side, following like a faithful dog. Before he disappears out of the ship, he adds one more thing: "Be good."
Her nose wrinkles. When his footsteps fade, and the ramp raises once more, she mocks, "Be good. Idiot. Just tell me to fucking bark, already."
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Later, she's managed to start sliding the knife from her boot after a nice, long nap. Zoya has no idea how long she's been asleep, or when the Mandalorian will return, so she needs to hurry. The hilt is pinned uncomfortably between the bony joint of her ankle and the leather of the shoe, painfully digging into her skin.
Zoya lifts her left leg, tucking it up beside her body, straining her hands toward her ankle. The cuffs anchoring her to the bar on the wall on her right side dig into her wrists as she pulls against them, reaching towards the top of her boot.
"I need to fucking stretch," she pants, dropping her leg back onto the floor, the thick sole of her boot hitting the panels with a loud thud.
She leans her head back against the wall, staring up at the ceiling. A numbing sensation of hopelessness seeps into her chest, wrapping cold fingers around her heart and weaving between her ribs, pessimism tapping out a rhythm in her head. The Mandalorian hates her, he's turned in the sweet, unsuspecting child, she's stuck to this goddamn wall with a way to escape just out of reach, her head hurts, and she's fucking hungry. Saying a jumble of words that would make a sailor cringe, Zoya squeezes her eyes shut, feeling trapped.
A sudden thud startles her as the hatch to the Razor Crest opens, sending her jumping into the wall and smacking her shoulder on the bar. "Ow!"
She must've yelled, as a familiar voice calls, "Zoya?"
He's back. She crosses her legs, trying to conceal the swell of the knife's handle coming up out of the top of her boot. His footsteps echo up the ramp, and he emerges around the corner a second later, seeming to be in a hurry. When he sees her still chained, the tenseness in his shoulders smooths out.
"You're here. When you didn't answer, I thought . . ." he trails off.
Zoya presses her lips together. "Nope. Still here." Noticing the silvery sheen of the armor set onto his body, she adds, "That new?"
He looks down. "Yes."
It's stilted and awkward between them for a reason Zoya can't identify. "You turned in the child?"
This time, it takes longer for the bounty hunter to reply, and when he does, his voice is closed off. "I did." He moves to the pilot's seat and sits down, flipping each switch in a row beside the thrusters and pushing a couple more buttons to his right and above his head. When he reaches forward to push the final thruster forward, his hand hesitates in the air. Zoya leans to the side, curious, and watches as he picks up the small metal sphere that belongs on the top. The child must have twisted it off earlier. The Mandalorian looks at the orb for a beat and screws it back on slowly, pushing the lever forward. His movements are hesitant.
"Mando?" Zoya says tentatively, using the nickname for the first time.
Brusquely, he shoves the thruster back into place and re-pushes and flips back the buttons and levers he had just turned on, powering the engine off. Zoya's eyes widen perceptibly at the unexpected act, and her heartrate increases, fear and expectation boiling into a frenzy in the pit of her stomach.
"Mando," she tries again, voice weak. "What are you doing?"
He swivels back around in the chair, standing up. "I can't leave him," he says quietly. "I'll return."
"The child?" Zoya asks brightly. "You're going back for him?" The Mandalorian nods, and she sinks back into her seat. "I thought you'd changed your mind about not turning me in for a moment there."
He levels his stoic gaze at her for a long moment, or at least Zoya thinks he does. It's hard to tell. "I'm not leaving you, either." There's a shade of protectiveness in his tone that she hadn't expected to hear. Neither of them speaks for a minute, frozen in a quiet trance, unsure how to navigate around each other.
"Well," Zoya says abruptly, "you'd better go get him, then." Holding up her hands for emphasis, one of her shoulders lifts in a shrug. "Not like I can go anywhere."
"Don't get kidnapped," the bounty hunter says, and invisible underneath his helmet, the corner of his mouth quirks.
Zoya rolls her eyes. "I'll do my best."
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another update for today bc i'm crazy
& if you're liking this book, i just posted the intro to another fic for the mandalorian on my profile (i had another idea and couldn't control myself) so if you're interested go check it out!