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There is a fierce battle late one evening on a small planet barely anyone can be bothered to remember the name of. A battle like this is not common, but it's not rare on the sand-covered surface. There is one building a slight distance away from the incident with only one soul living there.
Liita decides to wait for dawn before bringing a dust-sleigh and heading out to take a look. More often than not, once the dust had settled after such a vicious fight, there are things worth scavenging. Yet, Liita also knows the odds of someone else approaching the site on this desolate planet are slim to none so she aims for a good night's sleep first.
If there is something worth hauling back, it might be heavy and she needs to be rested for the job.
When morning comes and all three suns are up, Liita powers up her dust-sleigh and starts walking across the barren plains towards where the fighting had been.
She's right. When she arrives, there are no signs of anyone else beating her to the prize.
Six bodies are strewn across the red sand, their blood turning the ground an even deeper shade of red, and she wastes no time in picking up their weapons. She doesn't seek out fights and visitors are few and far between, but she is a female who lives alone, has been alone for many years now, and she's not stupid. These fallen ones appear to be a mix of mercenaries and assassins. She finds several high quality weapons.
Liita has just emptied the pockets of one body when she notices the tracks in the sand. Footsteps.
Someone had walked away from the fight.
She reaches out and touches the sand. Her fingertips comes away bloodied.
The tracks leads away from the bodies and into the narrow corridor between several ragged rocks that poke out of the sand like massive fangs.
Liita takes one of the blasters and follows the tracks.
She expects to find another body. And she does, but this one, on closer inspection, appears not to be dead yet.
The humanoid creature is lying face down, body half-covered by a cloak and its head is covered by a silver helmet. It has one arm curled under its body and the other has a firm grip on its rifle as if it had collapsed while still fighting. Liita warily approaches and confirms that the humanoid is indeed breathing. Unconscious, but alive. There is a gaping wound in its side, probably from a blaster shot, which she guesses had eventually bled enough to bring the fighter down in here.
She frowns, hesitating, not sure whether to walk away or put it out of its misery. That is when she hears a sound. It is coming from the humanoid. Or, at least, from underneath it.
Liita crouches down, still at a safe distance, and watches as something moves under the fallen form and is more than a little amazed to see a green child with big floppy ears carefully poking its head out. It watches her with big eyes and tilts its head. Despite the battle and the horror, it had decided to stay with this humanoid.
Even after the fighter had collapsed, protecting the child with its own body, it had stayed there.
Later, after Liita has managed to drag the still unconscious humanoid up on her dust-sleigh, and the child is perching on top of it, she hopes she isn't making a mistake.
And as she brings the two home, she doesn't see the final fallen body clutching a blaster behind one of the rocks and how it must have been killed quite brutally by some invisible force that had grabbed a hold of it from within and left nothing but carnage.
The child coos cheerfully as they begin the journey back to her dwelling.
-
Back home, Liita manages to drag the humanoid indoors. It's not easy. He, she's fairly certain it is a he, is heavy and is as cooperative as a sack of sand. Still, with a lot of effort, she manages to get him to her kitchen, the only room with a table big enough, and maneuvers him on top of the table.
She's in the middle of examining the wound in his side when she realizes that the child has made its way indoors too and is waddling across the floor while chirping to itself. Liita allows herself a moment to watch it, marvel at its uniqueness and how it manages to look old and young at the same time, before she forces her focus back at the task at hand.
She cuts the fabric open to give herself more room to work and the red blood combined with golden skin under the clothing convinces her that she is dealing with a human.
When Liita has washed and dealt with the wound, satisfied the bleeding has stopped, she bandages it up tightly, briefly surprised when the man flinches, but continues her work when he shows no sign of actually waking up.
The child has found a ladel it is trying to fit into its mouth and appears content with this challenge.
With the wound addressed, Liita is free to deal with other lesser things. She first gets the boots off his feet, then removes the cloak and works her way in through his layers of armor and clothing until his torso is laid bare for her. She pauses briefly at the sight, muscles and scars and so many bruises, everything that tells of a harsh life and dangerous skills, before she reaches for his helmet.
A sharp sound from the child makes her pause. She glances over and sees it watching her with its big dark eyes. It has gone unnaturally still.
For some reason, the hair at the back of her neck trembles.
Liita carefully withdraws her hand, sees the child blink happily, and decides to leave the helmet on. She fetches two blankets, one to cover up the man's golden skin, one folded under his head, before she begins on the task of repairing his torn clothing and tries very hard not to think about what just happened.
The child goes back to trying to fit the ladel into its mouth.
One after another, the suns eventually sets. The day has passed and Liita has spend much of it tending to the stranger and watching the child with wary fascination as it explores her kitchen. It makes no effort to venture any farther. It seems content to linger near its unconscious protector.
And when darkness is upon them and it tires, the child waddles over to the kitchen table and tries to climb up the table-leg. After several failures, it makes a mournful chirp and glances over at Liita.
She lifts the child, places it next to the man, watches as it doesn't hesitate to crawl up and burrow its way between the man's chest and his left arm, seeking the safety of the embrace. Lulled by the man's breathing and body-heat it is asleep within seconds.
Liita, on the other hand, barely sleeps that night. She sits in a chair by the door to the kitchen, watches and waits and really hopes she hasn't made a horrible mistake.
-
It is mid-day when the man finally wakes up.
Liita is distracted by the little one trying to swallow an entire lump of meat when the stranger suddenly makes a pained groan. She instantly turns her attention to him and mentally calculates the distance to her blaster on the chair.
The man is restless, distressed, and once he is fully conscious he starts trying to sit up.
Liita moves closer, but is reluctant to get within reaching distance. “You should stay down. You're injured quite badly.”
“Where is the...?” The man slurs. His voice is slightly twisted by his helmet, but she can hear he is struggling to form words. “Where...?”
When he gets over on his side, threatening to fall off the table or reopen his wound or both, Liita does approach him and takes a hold of his shoulder to keep him there. “Calm down.”
“A kid.” The man insists weakly. He sounds genuinely distressed. “There was... was a kid... Where?”
“He's here.” Liita says. “He's unharmed.”
The child is watching them from the other side of the room. Its ears has perked up for the first time. It makes a happy sound.
The man turns his head, honing in on the sound like a tracking missile, and she can actually feel the relief when he sees the child for himself. He even stops struggling and merely sinks back to lie on the table.
It takes several minutes before he speaks again.
“Thank you.”
Liita nods. And remembers that she has forgotten all about safe distances. Careless. But she doesn't move away. She feels how warm his skin is under her touch. Too warm.
People tended to die on this planet, not because of injuries but because of the infections that followed them. The red sand creeps in everywhere and brings with it lots of nasty things. “You should drink some water. You lost a lot of blood.”
“I'm fine.” The man counters.
He's not, Liita knows, but she doesn't bother arguing with him. Men can be both stubborn and stupid and she doesn't care for wasting her breath. She walks over to make him some soup instead. That way he will get both nutrition and liquids. He's going to need it while battling the infection.
Preparing the meal, Liita sees the little child wobble towards the man and once by his side, the man slowly reaches down and lifts it up.
The silver helmet prevents her from seeing the expression on the man's face, but there is no mistaking the gentle grip and the way he then strokes his fingers over the child's head as anything but affectionate. There is a kindness to him now that goes against the scars and the muscles on his body. This is the kind of connection that enables a man to fight against impossible odds, even as he is torn apart and bleeding out, to protect his cub from other predators.
Liita frowns and turns away. She feels like she is spying on a private moment.
The child is back on the floor and exploring, suddenly brave enough to venture into the other room now, when Liita brings him the soup.
He accepts it, thanks her, but simply places it on the table next to him. He's too weak to sit up, but his pride rears its head. “I will pay you.”
“No need.” Liita says. “The equipment I took off your friends is enough. I don't need more.”
The man nods thoughtfully. He leans his head back down again and doesn't say anything else. Eventually Liita realizes he has fallen asleep again and she goes back to mending his clothes.
It's much later when she is getting ready to go to sleep and is cleaning up that she finds the bowl empty and has no idea how that happened.
-
The man heals, but it takes two more days and he sleeps for the most of it. The child always sleeps by his side. The infection flares up and goes away three times. Liita tends to them, but focuses mostly on her work and tries to act like this isn't an unusual situation for her.
She never sees the man eat, unlike the green child who will gobble up anything not fast enough to run away, but whatever food she places near him disappears eventually. They don't talk much. She still doesn't know his name and she doesn't ask. No need to get attached. Although, the child makes it very difficult. It prefers the man, but it doesn't hesitate to send a charm attack her way.
On the final day, the man is able to sit up and walk into the next room to a more comfortable seat.
Liita doesn't bother keeping the blaster nearby anymore. The child trusts this faceless human so she decides to do the same.
She hands him back his clothes and once again he offers to pay her. Once again, she refuses.
“Why are you helping us?” The man asks, pulling his clothes back on with slow and pained movements.
“I don't know.” Liita replies, unwilling to lie for some reason. She sees the child is watching them. “Why won't you take off your helmet?”
“I'm a Mandalorian.” The man says. “I don't take it off.” He continues to dress.
Liita has never heard of Mandalorians and it doesn't make sense to her, but she doesn't comment on it. It's none of her business. “You should take it easy. Rest some more.”
Shaking his head, the man sighs. “I can't. Others might follow us here.”
Liita isn't surprised, but she doesn't like the sound of it. “They were chasing you?”
He is now fastening his silver armor to his lower arm. “Yes.” He glances over at the child, now head-first into the closet where Liita shoves scrap she's no longer using. “We have to keep moving.”
Not chasing just him then, either both of them or just the child. Liita knows this man would rather die than hand over the child. “Do you have a ship?”
“Yes.” He pauses. “Unless you got Jawa here? You don't have Jawa here, do you?”
Liita shakes her head. “No.” Very few species bother to settle here.
Even with his helmet on, she can tell he is relieved for some reason. He fastens his final piece of armor and turns his attention to Liita. “There is nothing I can give you for helping us?”
For a moment, she's tempted. -Answers, she wants to say. Liita has so many questions. What is the child? Why are they being hunted? Who are the Mandalorians? Are they all like him?
“Don't get shot again.” She says instead. She suspects this man is everything that child has.
A sound catches their attention and they both turn to look over at the closet.
The child totters out from within the closet. It has found a cracked metal can which it has stuck its head into and the child is now peering out at them with one eye though the rift and its ears poking out from under the rim.
Liita hears the man inhale, like he is in pain, but she stays quiet and merely watches as he walks over to kneel down in front of the child.
She can't see his face, but in some strange way she can almost sense the faint smile on the man's lips and the flood of emotions in his eyes.
A few seconds pass then he reaches out and carefully inches the can off the child's head. “That's no good, kid. A shot would go straight through that.” When the can is off, he tosses it aside and takes a careful hold of the tiny shoulder. “If you want one, I will get you one. That is the way.”
It sounds like a promise. A promise of something far more than just a helmet.
They say their goodbyes and the man bundles up the child to hang in a sling on his back before he starts on his walk back to wherever his ship is. The child pokes his head up and gives her a wave with a tiny green hand.
She waves back and hopes they will make it back to the ship without any more trouble. Though, she suspects that, injured or not, the man won't tolerate anyone getting in his way or threatening the child. Woe to the ones stupid enough to try.
Liita wonders yet again if all Mandalorians are like this man and realizes that she wouldn't mind wearing a helmet for the rest of her life if it meant being surrounded by a people like that.
Family.