Broken Soul | Din Djarin

chapter fourteen: pain resurfaced

"How are your injuries?" Din turns in his seat to look at you.

The kid snores in your arms and the soft sound brings a smile to your face.

"They're fine," you say as you stroke the child's head.

"You should check on them. The bacta should have kicked in by now."

Many days have passed since you joined Din's crew, leaking into weeks of traveling through the void of space. On the days that you're not looking for supplies on the nearest planet, you're drifting through space, not really having a set destination. It's been peaceful and it's given you to chance to get to know the Mandalorian, who is surprisingly more talkative now that you're not his target.

You're still wary about becoming too close with him, but you're slowly discovering how much he fascinates you... which only worried you even further. But the two of you understand one another, something that you have rarely experienced throughout your life. 

You can relate to each other's pain. Din lost his parents at a young age just as you had lost your mother, and he has struggled through conflict and war like you. Din explained more of his culture and language to you in the time you've been on the ship. And, in turn, you explained some of the Jedis' culture to him and the stories of your training.

You look up from the child to meet his visor's gaze, his concern for your wellbeing flickering in the shadows of his eyes.

Tilting your head in amusement, you meet his gaze. "You're not going to leave me alone until I look, are you?"

"... You could say that." He turns back to the dash to set the ship into autopilot and stands from the chair suddenly. "Come on, let's go."

He tugs the sleeve of your arm lightly, like a child tugging the arm of its mother, making you chuckle at the innocent action. You follow him down to the hangar and set the child in Din's bunk to sleep, closing the door behind you as you leave. A scraping sound makes you turn and you watch as the bounty hunter drags crates over as seating for the two of you. You sit across from him as he removes his gloves and awaits for your consent to examine your wounds. 

Giving him a small nod, Din leans in close and starts to remove the bandage on your face delicately, careful not to tug the skin as he pulls it away. He folds up the used bandage and sets it next to him, leaning in once again to observe the scar that it's left behind and wiping away the remnants of bacta with a cloth. He pushes your hair behind your ear and his calloused hand touches the scarred skin, tracing it softly and sending a shiver down your spine.

I'm still not used to being touched by people...

"How bad is it?" Your eyes focus on his visor, uncertain of how he's reacting to it because of the barrier of the helmet.

"It's... it's scarred. I... I'm sorry." His hand drops from your face and his head falls slightly.

"Hey... It's okay. I've got scars already." You raise your hand to trace the old one on the other side of your face. "I just have matching halves now I suppose."

He raises his head, relaxing at your words. His eyes glance over the matching scarred lines that trace your cheekbones.

"Does it look badass at least?"

Din chuckles, "Yeah. Of course, it does." He hands you a sliver of reflective glass. "Do you wanna see it?"

Taking it from his palm, your head cocks to the side as you observe the glass. "What... is this?"

"A mirror." Your brow shoots up. "I... I use it to... fix my face."

"To fix your face."

"Yes. The helmet doesn't protect me from everything." He raises his hand to touch the cheek of his helmet. "I have scars."