PURPOSE | The Mandalorian

XII

The next day, I woke up to high pitched coos and two tiny hands prodding my face. My eyes squinted open against the sunlight and I glared right into the large dark eyes of the kid, who's face was only three inches from mine.

I smiled at him, both of the child's hands on my cheeks. He cooed again as I muttered, "Good morning, kiddo."

He smiled at me as I heaved myself into the sitting position. I must have fallen over from when I fell asleep last night, because I was laying flat on my side rather than sitting up. I crossed my legs and lifted the kid into my lap.

"Sorry we haven't spent much time with you lately," I said, rubbing his ears between my fingers. "Mando and I had some work to do."

I glanced towards Din, who was still lying on his back on top of the mattress. His chest rose and fell minutely and in slow, even paces. The bruises on his chest had gotten darker overnight, now deep purples rather than ugly greens.

The kid turned his head to look at Din. Once he saw the marble of bruising on his chest, he let out a disturbed cry, reaching his tiny arms out to him.

"I know," I breathed, "It looks like it really hurts, doesn't it?"

The kid cried again. I groaned as I stood, picking him up and tucking him into the crook of my elbow. I tiptoed towards Din, careful not to wake him up as I let the kid look down at him. The kid never really had a different expression other than pleasant ignorance, but I could feel his concern for Din deep down inside of me. It made my heart ache for both of them.

I never realized how much trauma the child could have gone through before Din rescued him. The Empire was never a great place to be, especially for a child like him. And if the reward for the kid was equal to a whole new outfit of beskar armor, the kid must have been extremely important.

The poor kid was staring at his rescuer, his savior, taking in just how bruised and beaten up he was.

The kid reached down for him again. "No," I chided gently and it broke my heart, "He can't hold you. He's hurt."

The kid cried again, louder this time. His cries stirred Din into motion, his breathing speeding up as he slowly came to consciousness. "What?..." He mumbled sleepily, "Oh. Hey kid."

Din reached up to let the kid grab ahold of his index finger.

I swallowed. I asked him eventually, "How are you feeling?"

He grunted gruffly in response. "Everything hurts," He muttered, exhaling a shallow breath. Then he said out of the blue, "I'm sorry."

His unprovoked apology took me by surprise. I tossed him a surprised look. "Why?"

"This is your bed," He said softly, like it was a pressing issue.

I laughed at the sheer absurdity of it. "Din, I don't care that you slept on the bed." I laughed harder now, shaking my head. "You nearly died and you want to apologize for making me sleep on the floor?"

"Well, I-"

"Forget it," I said with an absurd smile, waving him off. "It was your turn to sleep on the bed, anyway."

The kid leaned forward all of a sudden, and I nearly dropped him on top of Din's chest.

"Hey!" I barked, righting the kid again, "You can't do that, mister."

Din reached his arms up, groaning as he did so. "It's fine, Jeyna," He said, taking the kid from out of my arms. "He can sit next to me."

"I don't-" I started, but the words stuck in my throat when the kid placed both of his hands on Din's helmet. I felt the child relax once Din placed him by his side, almost like the comfort the kid felt was my own.