╭━ ⋅𖥔⋅ ━━✶━━ ⋅𖥔⋅ ━╮

(ad'ika)
little one, an informal affectionate term, kiddo, lad

╰━ ⋅𖥔⋅ ━━✶━━ ⋅𖥔⋅ ━╯

His partner was assigned the task to watch over the children while the village trained. She didn't mind; she was an awful teacher and an even worse marksman. Din had always mused if she was cursed.

It became night quicker than anyone had expected. The woods were unusually quiet, the air itself seeming to hold its breath.
His partner was stationed far away from the village, at a small abandoned shed almost a klick away.  The kids were inside the shed and she remained outside. She and Din were silent for a moment. Her head shifted back and forth, as if she was searching for something. "Be safe," she finally said.
"You too." He offered a hand.
"Always am." She grabbed his hand and they pulled each other forwards, a semblance of an embrace.
"I remember at least five times that could prove you wrong." She laughed in response.
"Hurry up, mikata." He nodded, turning. "Wait." He halted, glancing back. She tilted her head.
"What is it, ad'ika?"
"I-" her breath shuddered and stopped. "Don't die."
That wasn't what she was going to say, but he didn't want to push.

━━✶━━

The woods felt full despite the silence. She sat in front of the shed, cross legged. She shivered, the breeze getting the best of her. She heard a twig snap.
Her head jerked up and she tapped the door. The children quieted their hushed whispers.
The red mandalorian stood, hand on the hilt of her sword. There was someone here.
There was a loud, echoing thud through the trees. A tree fell in the distance. There was a shout and the rustle of a blaster to her side. She reacted faster than the raider could reach his comm, her vibroblade sinking into his skull, it's buzz and the fall of his body the only sound in the silence. She stepped towards the corpse, taking out the blade and kicking the blaster away.
There was another echoing thud.
He must've been a scout of some sort. She rifled through his pockets, pocketing credits and finding nothing else but trinkets. His comm crackled to life, the channel alight with shouting from multiple people. Another thud. A rumble, then stillness.
The woods felt empty.
She pulled the body into a shrub and kicked some dirt over it before knocking on the shed. "We're going to be heading back." The children's eyes gleamed, halfway between terror and hope.
"Are the raiders gone?"
The woods were bone-achingly empty.
"Yes." The children were quiet before one spoke up, her tiny voice wavering.
"Are my parents okay?" The red mandalorian paused. She wished her heart splintered and broke at the little girl's tone; that would mean she wasn't numb. Instead, she just felt a weight in her stomach and a void where her lungs should have been.

"I'll ask, okay?" She lowered and softened her voice. They passed a few scarred trees, each warmer and more torn than the last. She tilted her head, pressing a button on her inner wrist. "Mikata?" The channel crackled.

"What is it?" His voice was almost lost beneath both the modulator and the comm. The children looked at her curiously; they couldn't hear the comm.

"Any casualties?" A pause.

"Several injuries. None are life threatening." She exhaled.

She turned to the kids. "Your families are fine." She saw their faces light up, splitting into grins.

The comm crackled again. "Did you contact any raiders?"

"One. He might have been a scout."

"Dead?"

"Mhm." The channel went quiet.

"See you back at the village, ad'ika."

"Mikata," she started.

"What is it?" He had that tone again, the one he only used on her and the kid. She felt at ease for a moment, like she could tell him anything and he'd still be there.

"I need to talk to you about the kid once I get back." Silence.

"Understood."

━━✶━━

Cara's eyes darted between Din and his partner. "Oh no. This looks serious. I'm bailing."

The pair laughed, turning to her. "Its only somewhat serious." His partner had a note of fondness in her tone, one that she rarely used.

"Oh good, I was scared one of you was going to die." Cara pouted, her gaze shifting rapidly, never settling somewhere for more than a few seconds. "I've already gotten a little attached." She shifted her weight. "I'm," she paused, seemingly forgetting what she was going to say. "Gonna go take a walk."

Cara left, Omera taking her place. "Can I have a word?" Her voice was barely a murmur. Din paused, gaze darting between his partner and Omera.

She tilted her head towards Omera. "Don't worry. What I will say can wait." He didn't miss the mischief in her tone. She slipped away before Din could say anything else.

Omera opened her mouth to say something before clamping it shut. She glanced back at the child. "He's happy here." Omera's gaze moved further, to where his partner lay in the grass, arms tucked under her helmet. "They both are." Her head swung back around and the ferocity in her gaze startled him; it was the same gaze she fixed on her rifle's scope. It was fire, and it almost burned through his armor. "Are you?" Her voice was so low he nearly missed it.

"What?"

"Are you happy here?" He inhaled, the only sound coming through his modulator was a barely audible buzz. "You could pack all this armor away; take it out if we ever are in danger." We? She was closer suddenly, and he could suddenly make out a thousand golden flecks in her eyes like molten metal. "They could be children. At least for a while." Her fingers brushed against his chestplate and he swore he could feel their heat through the beskar.

"That would be nice." His voice is low in his chest. Omera's hands wrap around the base of his helmet, her fingertips brushing against the scruff of his unshaven face. His breath hitches, his heart beating out of his chest. She raises the helmet a centimeter, eyes widening in hope.

His hands wrap around hers, soft grip pulling her hands away. Her expression crumbled. "I don't belong here." He didn't belong in the storage container, covering his ears and begging for a savior. He didn't belong in the mismatched covert, where he only looked to live from day-to-day. And he didn't belong in a krill farming village, hiding from the mess he had left in his wake. "I'm sorry." He was. He wished he could be the other half she had been missing, but fate is never so neat or kind. Things rarely end sweetly.

A shot rang out, echoing through the village.