Ta'raysh ehn
☆☆☆
Cato and Din stood on the deck of an industrial supply ship, the scent of salt heavy on the air and the sharp, cool winds off the water making Cato wrap his arms around himself and shudder occasionally. The Child stood in his floating pod, watching the rather bleak and dismal ocean stretch on for as far as the eye could see ahead of them, the port slowly shrinking behind them.
"You're cold," Din said from right beside Cato, still looking out over the water.
Cato hunched his shoulders, drawing the heavy fur mantle closer to him. He didn't deny it. He was cold, the air of the water was brisk and seemed heavy to Cato, the cool air started to cling to his hair and clothes in the form of tiny beads of perspiration.
On top of the general unpleasantness of being cold and not quite dry, the little seed of purpose that had anchored itself in the back of Cato's mind was persistently nagging him. It wasn't tangible in any way, it wasn't even really there at all. When Cato tried to focus on it, it was as if it had never existed. But it still bugged him. It was telling him to go back to the port, without words or signs, Cato simply knew it to be true. It felt like he had an invisible string anchored to him, not providing any resistance but pointing him back to where he was supposed to go.
He vaguely recognised this feeling as something akin to the occasional Force-guided moments of intuition that he experienced when he was younger, but even that was rarely quite as noticeable as this--though even now it was barely there.
The strongest memory he had of this feeling was when he was very young, too young to even really remember anything at all. All he knew was a small group of people had arrived at his home and spoke with his parents and eventually him. He couldn't remember what they had said, in part because they hadn't spoken to him at all. Their thoughts had somehow appeared in his mind, allowing easy communication between them. They had wanted him to come with them, but this same feeling had told him no.
Of course, years later Obi Wan had unintentionally shed some light on that experience, explaining that when Cato was very young--two or three--the Jedi Council had come to visit him and his parents, wishing to take Cato to the Temple to train him. Obviously that didn't happen, as Cato remained blissfully unaware of his potential to become a Jedi until he was ten years old and suddenly had no choice.
"--Cato?"
He blinked and looked around, disoriented. This wasn't where he'd been standing a millisecond before. He turned around and found Din approaching him, the Child floating beside him. Cato looked back at the ocean and confirmed that he was indeed on the port side now when he could have sworn he had been on the starboard. He grit his teeth, pressing the heels of his palms into his eyes while his fingernails--still broken and torn in places, but thankfully not hurting as much anymore--pressed into his scalp.
"Cato, what's wrong?" Din asked quietly, coming to stand in front of Cato, his hand gently cupping Cato's face before moving upwards to gently slip between Cato's nails and scalp, relieving the pressure.
Cato dropped his hands from his face and shoved them into his pockets. "Nothing, nothing," he denied quickly, hardly having heard the question before jumping to answer with a lie. He paused as he registered that and shook his head, letting out a heavy breath. "Actually...there's something..." He trailed off and huffed. "Were we just standing on the other side of the ship?" he asked, gesturing with his head over his shoulder to the opposite rail.
Din nodded. "Yes, a minute or two ago, then you just walked over here." he confirmed.
The Child cooed, drawing Cato's attention. He looked down at the kid, who stared back at him with dark eyes that somehow held unmistakeable worry.
Cato offered the Child a weak smile and reached out to run his fingers along one of the Child's ears, his hand trembling. He let his touch linger for a few moments then retracted his touch and looked back at Din. "Something's happening to me. I...I don't remember things suddenly and things just skip,"
"Skip?"
"Skip," Cato confirmed with a nod. "It happened after the Crest crashed. At least, I assume we crashed. I remember falling through the clouds and then I blinked and I was in the cockpit and everything was frozen and I couldn't find you guys." he explained. "It happened just now, I don't remember walking over here at all, and it might have happened while we were on Tatooine. I don't know, I can't remember anything very well anymore." Cato grimaced as he tried to sort through his memories but found them disjointed and jumbled, something that was starting to become a common occurrence.
Din nodded slowly and was silent for a moment before speaking. "You said you woke up in the cockpit and we weren't there," he said after a couple seconds. Cato nodded, remembering the scenario well. Din tilted his head quizzically. "You weren't in the cockpit by yourself,"
It felt like an icy knife had just been thrust into Cato's chest, a chill spreading across his skin and fear freezing his insides. "What?" He breathed, voice barely there.
"When we crashed you were knocked out, we all were. I woke up and got you and the frog woman up and we eventually moved down to the cargo bay." This didn't make any sense. Cato didn't remember any of that. He remembered waking up alone in the cockpit. "We set up the temporary camp in the hold and you said you were going to check for spare rations. You got a couple yards away and then just collapsed. I went over to help you and you..." Din trailed off, not needing to finish his sentence. They both remembered vividly what had happened.
"I don't..." Cato shook his head, bewildered and frightened. "I remember waking up alone in the cockpit and coming down into the hold to find you. I was walking towards you when I noticed I was bleeding and I collapsed or something." he raked both hands through his hair, tugging on his unruly curls in frustration. "Fuck, what the hell is wrong with me," he hissed.
Approaching footsteps forced a halt on the conversation, the Quarren captain they had met in the inn walking to stand nearby. "You ever see a mamacore eat?" he asked, looking out over the grey ocean. "Quite a sight," He said. "The child might take an interest." The Child cooed, tilting his head slightly at the captain. "You should take a look," The captain suggested, walking towards the large grate that took up most of the floor of the deck. "Come on over here, get a good view. Let the kid see," He urged.
Din followed, the Child floating beside him. Cato shivered against the cold and followed after, coming to stand on the other side of Din a little ways from the edge of the grate.
The grate drew back, leaving the surface of the large tank or cage unbarred. The captain had a net of live fish--all flopping against each other--hung over the water and then dropped in. The water began to bubble and roil as something large made its way towards the surface.
"She must be hungry," The captain chuckled. "We usually feed her in the early morning, but we missed that cause we were comin' out of port,"
The last word was emphasised with a solid thunk of metal on metal as the captain batted the Child's pod into the water.
"No!"
Cato felt arms start to close around him and he immediately surged forwards, tearing away the grip that was trying to trap him, the sailor only managing to keep a hold on his jacket. Thoughtlessly, Cato dove towards the water, only able to focus on the Child sitting in the middle of the roiling water.
The water hit him like a ton of bricks, forcing the air from his lungs immediately as he tried to gasp on instinct, salt water flooding his lungs. Involuntarily, Cato fought his way back to the surface, his lungs on fire with the pain. Sputtering and gasping, Cato broke the surface, hands closing around the grimy bars of the closed grate. Pain hit his knuckles as the Quarren sailors began to slash at his hands, trying to force him back into the water.
"Cato--!"
His world went quiet, only punctured by a low rumbling sound as he fell back under the water. He resurfaced a moment later and found Din nearby in a similar predicament.
"Cato--," Din coughed. "Cato," He reached out, trying to grab Cato. Understanding what he was trying to do, Cato reached out as well, lunging to hopefully propel himself close enough.
Sharp, staging pain flared up in Cato's arm and once again he was submerged in the icy water, inhaling more of the stinging saltwater. Memories that felt like a lifetime ago came rushing back as Cato's lungs burned from the water. Sinking into darkness, a crushing weight on his chest, death creeping in as he drowned in the ponds of Sorgan.
Adrenaline pushed Cato to fight upwards, his head once again breaking the surface. His arm stung painfully and he could see a bleeding gash across the top of his forearm where he had been hit with one of the fishing spears wielding by the sailors.
Cato looked around wildly and saw Din break the surface nearby. The Child was still missing. Cato looked frantically around him for any sign of the kid, but the water was dark and unyielding. Taking a deep breath, Cato ducked under the water, pushing past the burn of salt in his throat and lungs and the cold fear of drowning.
He cracked his eyes open a little, the salt immediately stinging them. Darkness loomed below him and the loud humming of the ship's motors made the water seem to vibrate, making the pressure in his ears worse. The cold crept into his bones, growing more and more frigid with every second and his lungs were burning now with the need for air. He didn't know how far down this went, he didn't have any protection whatsoever against pressure or anything. But he had to keep going. He had to get the Child back.
Something brushed against Cato's fingertips, making him recoil instantly. And then there was a sickening feeling as something slithered around his torso. He struggled to free himself, but its grip tightened, constricting around his chest, his air leaving his lungs in a flurry of bubbles and muffled grunts.
And unable to move, Cato felt himself being pulled deeper into the water by something cold and slimy.
☆
A familiar style helmet, painted blue and grey peered at Din through the grate, the metal bars sliding back to free him from the watery prison.
"Take my hand," The Mandalorian urged, holding out a hand to Din which he gratefully took, allowing her to help hoist him out of the water and onto the deck of the ship where he coughed and tried to get the words stuck in his throat out.
"There's a creature," He wheezed as the Mandalorian lifted him from the water. "It has the Child, and my friend--," he grunted as he collapsed onto the deck of the ship.
"On it," A second Mandalorian said, immediately diving into the watery cage.
Din was only half aware of his movements as he was helped to a sitting position by the Mandalorian with the bird-like design on her helmet. "The Child--," He gasped, his mind a whirlwind of thoughts and fears threatening to squeeze the air from his lungs.
"She's on it," The Mandalorian assured.
"My friend, he's down there, I don't--he's injured--help him. Help them."
The Mandalorian who had saved Din rested a hand on his shoulder. "Don't worry, brother, we've got this," she assured, moving to stand at the edge of the water with the third Mandalorian.
The water was roiling again, foam and froth forming at the surface as low screeches could be heard. Din tried to stand, to go over and look, but found that his muscles wouldn't obey his command. All he could do was sit and heave in breaths of air.
The water surface suddenly erupted and the second Mandalorian shot into the air, a familiar silver pod clutched in her arms. But no Cato.
"Woves," The first Mandalorian said, nodding to the water.
With a curt nod, the third Mandalorian dove into the water, disappearing beneath the dark surface.
The Mandalorian with the Child landed on the deck, immediately bringing the pod to Din and ripping off one of the doors. Din barely heard her gentle words to the Child as she scooped him up and handed him to Din who immediately held him close to his chest, his heart feeling like it was about to give out.
The Child stared up at Din, seeming a little shaken but okay. He was alive. He was okay. Din could have cried from relief in that moment, in fact he almost did. But the looming thought of Cato's absence was still heavy on his mind.
He looked around the deck of the ship, spotting Cato's jacket and fur mantle crumpled on the ground a little ways away.
Noticing his gaze, the lead Mandalorian picked the jacket and mantle up, bringing it to Din wordlessly. Din took it, and wrapped the Child in the jacket and mantle, unsure of what to do.
"We'll get your friend," The first Mandalorian promised.
Din didn't answer. He didn't know how.
The surface of the water suddenly exploded again, immediately drawing everyone's attention. The third Mandalorian--Woves--landed on the deck of the ship, a soaking wet Cato in his arms.
"Cato," Din rasped, the Child letting out a simultaneous coo of recognition.
Woves walked a couple steps closer and lay Cato on the deck in front of Din, water pooling around his still form and a dark blood stain growing on his right sleeve.
"Is he--?" Din asked, barely a whisper. Cato suddenly convulsed on the ground, rolling onto his side and hacking up seawater. "Cato!" Din dropped to his knees beside Cato, the Child still cradled in one arm while his free hand was quick to try to sooth Cato's coughing and shaking.
After a few seconds, Cato fell onto his back, staring up at Din with hazy eyes, red from the salt water. He opened his mouth, croaking something unintelligible.
"Shh, it's okay, cyare," Din murmured absentmindedly, brushing the wet clumps of hair out of Cato's face. "We're here, you're here, we're all safe." he assured as Cato suddenly seemed to seize up with panic. "Ni ganar gar, gar morut'yc," he murmured, rubbing comforting lines on Cato's cheek with the pad of his thumb. "Ni ganar bintar be gar,"
I got you, you're safe. I've got both of you.
Several seconds passed like this, Din holding the Child close and doing his best to comfort him and Cato, the latter of whom was still shaking and staring hazily into the sky, the ghosts of words sometimes escaping his lips. He eventually managed to help Cato sit up and help wrap the gash on his arm quickly. Then the three just sat there for a moment, all resting in each other's embrace in varying stages of shock and relief.
All the while, the three Mandalorians that had saved them stood side by side, a close by respectable distance away, allowing the trio time to breathe.
Time to breathe, time to breathe. Din repeated to himself in his head. Breathe, breathe, breathe.
▪
Cyare: beloved
Ni ganar gar, gar morut'yc: I have you, you're safe
Ni ganar bintar be gar: I have both of you
I'm not readyyyyyy for the season finaleeeeeeee. I will scream most likely. Oh well, still got lots of chapters to go with these two.
I couldn't decide if I wanted Cato in the water or on the deck and when I eventually decided on water (not sure how I like it though) I had to have him lose his jacket before he jumped in so his book wasn't ruined.
Also in case you haven't notice, I SUCK at writing action scenes. I'm just never happy with how they turn out.
Anyways, enjoy, vote, comment, stick around
-Tree