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sulphuryasecretcloset · 2 years

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Goodbye

(Because I have no willpower and finally some hours to write, I had to finish Dez’ story arc. Thank you so much @mountevey for your kind interest and even kinder words, and thank you so much @phrenic-a for listening to me complain about Dez being so difficult and giving such wonderful input!)

Dez should have died. It would have been a lot better if he’d died. If he had died, he wouldn’t have had to deal with more mess added to his already messy life.

Neleem is pissed off at him, claiming he kept being sick from her and is not willing to believe his explanation that he didn’t tell her because it was no big deal. Paz looks at him like he’s some kind of monster that could explode at any moment and that boy will never call him buir again.

Liita is threatening to insert a tracker in Dez’ neck so she can follow him everywhere because he clearly needs a bodyguard as he keeps getting trounced. The other kids act like he’s a homicidal nikto and avoid him like the plague.

Dulcy has, for some reason, made it her mission in life to make sure Dez eats and she has a plain scary ability to pick up on it the second he gets a headache or feels nauseous and forces him to rest and drink this terrible herbal tea several times a day. And while all of this is bad, Davarax is worse.

He’d threatened Dez with his so-called friendship and he’d clearly meant it. It’s outright pathetic how the man tries to pretend that he doesn’t think he’s far better than Dez and that he wants him around. Too bad for Beskar Boy that Dez is too smart to fall for his charade.

As he is no weakling, Dez Vizla is up on his feet again to participate on the celebration of Paz’ Life Day. He had not been entirely convinced his son even wanted him there, but Liita said Paz did and she wouldn’t lie. It isn’t a comfortable experience, mostly because of his still healing wound but also due to the way the others look at him.

Dez is very comfortable being the centre of attention, usually he is deserving of it, but he viciously resents the concern and something dangerously close to pity he sees in their eyes. He heads back to his room after about thirty minutes. His stomach aches. His jaw hurts from clenching it so hard.

But Davarax follows him into the hallway and has the audacity to ask if something is wrong, acting like a worried parent, which makes red hot anger flare up Dez’ neck. He wants his pity least of all. It’s unbearable!

Throwing a punch, ignoring the pain as the sudden movement pulls at his wound, Dez aims for Davarax’ face and is quite surprised when his fist simply hits Davarax’ palm as he lifts his hand with frightful speed and blocks the attack with hardly any effort..

Davarax’ fingers curl around Dez’ fist and holds it there, all with a resigned and mildly chastising expression on his face. “That one is for free, Dez. Neleem says you do stuff like this because you got impulse issues like Raga and that you too need a little guidance when it comes to controlling yourself. So consider this your warning; try to hit me again and I will punch back. Understood?”

Glaring, Dez tries to tug his hand free but Davarax’ grip is too strong.

“Understood?” Davarax repeats patiently.

Tugging harder, still nothing, Dez seethes with humiliation. “Yes.” He grits out. “Understood.”

Davarax smiles and nods, pleased. “Excellent.” He lets go and gives Dez’ shoulder a light pat instead. “Is the wound giving you trouble?”

Dez lowers his hand, considers going for a second punch but decides against it. Davarax’ guard is up. He’d never land it. “I’m tired.” Dez turns his face away. “Tell Paz happy Life Day from me.” It would mean more to hear it from Davarax anyway.

“I will.” Davarax says, trying to sound like he’s sad about Dez leaving the gathering. “You want him to stop by later? I can ask him to-”

“No.” Dez figures the boy has stuff planned with Raga and his friends. It’s his Life Day, he shouldn’t be forced to deal with the mess of a father he has. Dez turns his back on Davarax and his stupid face and walks away.

Neleem enters the room a few minutes after Dez had kicked off his boots and gotten comfortable on the bed. She frowns, torn between her established irritation and now being worried. “You okay?”

Dez shrugs. His stomach churns. His wound aches. “I’ll live.” He hesitates. “You didn’t have to leave them to check up on me. I just… I couldn’t stay there. Paz jumps if I so much as coughs and Dulcy looks like she’s ready to do CPR on me whether I need it or not.”

Neleem’s lips tug a bit on a melancholy smile. “Yeah…” She walks over and sits down next to him. “Listen, would you mind if we stay for a little while? Maybe a week or two?”

Dez blinks. They were just meant to visit for Paz’ Life Day and then head back home. But clearly his fears about Neleem not being happy in the Covert were not unfounded. Dez feels a cold wave of nausea and it takes no small amount of will power to act unfazed. He even manages a smile of his own. “Sure.” He says. “Of course we can stay longer.”

Whenever someone in the Covert had brought a troubled child to him, Davarax figured time, patience and kindness would be the key to find out how to help them. In this case, he has little of the first, a lot of the second and Dez doesn’t respond well to the last. Davarax has no idea if he’s going to be able to undo the damage done to this grown man, but after Neleem told him how Dez had been willing to work on himself with her, he has decided to try.

But stars above, Dez is dead set on not making it easy for him.

“Hey, good morning, you want to grab breakfast and shoot some targets after?” Davarax asks as he pokes his head into the room the next morning.

Staring at him like Davarax has lost his mind, Dez shakes his head with a mix of disbelief and disgust. “No.”

“Are you sure?”

“Get out of my room.” Dez growls. “Before I use you for target practice.”

Okay, that didn’t work.

Later Davarax tries to approach him when Dez is working on getting the blood out of his armour. “Need a hand with that?”

Dez looks up at him, frowning with obvious confusion. “No. Why would I?” His eyes narrow with growing anger. “You think I don’t know how to clean my own karking armour?”

Davarax lifts his hands in mute surrender and walks away. Okay, that didn’t work either.

“Hey, you wanna-”

“No.”

Maybe a different tactic is needed…

Davarax sees Dez sending quick, pained glances over at his son whenever Paz is around and that gives him an idea. He arranges to have Paz and the others have a little play fighting tournament right outside the house and is pleased to see how that draws the ornery one out to observe.

“He’s a good fighter.” Davarax says, taking up position next to Dez to watch Paz and Din go at it. “You should be proud”

Dez grunts and crosses his arms, keeping his gaze on his son. “I am.”

This seems to work, until Dez interferes by shouting out orders and corrections to the youngsters, encouraging more force and mocking the losers, and the play fighting starts getting a little too intense. Davarax is just about to put an end to it when Raga, always the adrenaline junkie and eager to cross the line, ducks under Din’s half-hearted attack and puts all of her strength into it as she plants her fist deep in Din’s stomach.

The force and unexpectedness of it all has Din folding and grunting with pain. Raga takes a step back and throws both hands in the air with a gleeful cackle.

Dez laughs and applauds.

Davarax clenches his jaw and stalks forward. He gets there just in time as the furious Din gets up on his feet and is about to dive at Raga. Grabbing Din by the back of his shirt and holding him back, Davarax points a finger at Raga. “Ten laps around the property. Now.”

Raga huffs with offence. “What? Why?!”

“That was an actual punch and this is not an actual fight, Raga. You know the rules.” Davarax keeps his gaze steadily locked with hers. “Go.”

She lets out a frustrated hiss but sets off to do her laps. Din tries to follow her, still dead-set on payback, but Davarax yanks him back and then shoves him over at Corin and Paz. “Din, no. This ends here.” After that, he stalks over to Dez, who is glaring at him.

“Punishing your student for winning a fight?” Dez scoffs. “And you call yourself a Mandalorian?”

“They know the rules during training and they know the consequences if they break them.” Davarax will not let Dez turn his kids against each other. He does NOT get to ruin what it has taken years to build. “And as you lit the fuse, I really should make you run those laps with her.”

Dez’ eyes narrow and flash with anger. “I don’t take orders from you.”

When Dez’ fist comes at him, Davarax smacks it aside and delivers a lightning-quick punch of his own. As Dez stumbles back a step and cups his now bleeding nose, Davarax lets out a strained exhale to control his own temper. “I warned you.” He turns towards the nervous gathering of youngsters. “No more fights. We’re done. Separate corners everyone. Understood?”

“Understood.” Their voices echo back.

Davarax feels Dez’ scowl on him and turns back to face him again. “Understood?”

“Understood.” Dez snarls, but the fire in his eyes tells Davarax the fight between them is far from over.

“I don’t think I can do it.” Davarax admits that evening, hating to accept defeat but struggling to see any way he can get through to Dez. Not in a couple of weeks. This could take decades. Anything he says, Dez turns it into some kind of insult. Anything he does, Dez turns it into Davarax patronizing him. “I thought I could, but…”

Dulcy hands him his cup before settling on the sofa with her legs curled up under her and her hip against his. It’s a rare quiet moment with just the two of them there. “But?”

“He hates me.” Davarax shakes his head. “Maybe he’s right to. I don’t know. All these years and I never picked up on him struggling. I just thought he was a jerk. I should have done something, instead I just avoided him like a coward.” He gives a faint gesture with his free hand. “And now that I want to help, he won’t let me and I don’t blame him.”

Dulcy leans her forehead to his shoulder and hums. “The fact that you think like this is a big part of why I love you so much, you big lug.” She then kisses his shoulder and straightens to look at Davarax’ face. “You’re completely wrong, obviously, but I love you for thinking that. It just proves that you are a good man.”

“And I love you for trying to make me feel better by saying that. You’re completely wrong, obviously, but I love you for it.” Davarax counters with a faint smile and a soft kiss on her lips.

Dulcy leans in for a second kiss. “I’m never wrong when it comes to you.” She settles next to him again. “And I wasn’t wrong when I said you two need to talk it out. His issues are not your fault, but if you want to help him, you need to get him talking.”

There is a moment of silence before Davarax quietly blurts out something he’d meant to keep a secret. “He was crying.”

“What?” Dulcy sits up, startled, and stares wide eyed at him. “When? Why?”

Squirming, feeling guilty for telling, Davarax clears his throat. “After the fight in the town. He yelled at Paz and I was going to yell at him and… he was crying.” He shakes his head, still struggling to believe what he’d seen was real. “I’ve never seen him cry before. Never. I didn’t even think he was capable of being sad. Anyway, he wouldn’t tell me why he was so upset so I asked Paz about the yelling and he said Dez got angry because he called him buir. Paz thinks Dez found it childish, but I don’t think so.”

“No…” Dulcy mumbles, all pained empathy. “No, that wasn’t anger.” She bites her lower lip and shifts her gaze over in the general direction of Dez and Neleem’s room. “He doesn’t hate you. Neleem told me so. We just need to find some way to crack that cold, unfeeling act of his.”

Davarax sips at his cup. “I’m open for suggestions. After I punched him in the face, I can’t get near him. If I walk into a room, he’s leaving within ten to fifteen seconds. Aside from rolling him up in a blanket like an angry loth cat, I don’t see how I can prevent him from running away.”

“What if…” Dulcy purses her lips a little as she thinks. “What if you suddenly need a little help with some repairs on the shed? We know he’s good at repairing houses and such.”

Frowning, Davarax looks over at her. “How on Mandalore are you going to get him to agree to that?”

Dulcy grins.

Dez sits on the bed, uncharacteristically passive, while Neleem gingerly peels off the bacta bandage from his stomach. There are no signs of blood on the white patch and she brushes her fingertips over his skin where there is now only a faint scar.

“How does it feel?” She asks.

Honestly? Good. Dez is more than capable of taking care of his own wounds. He doesn’t need help taking off a bacta patch or a check up on the healing progress, but there is something about her gentle touch that just makes him feel calm and pliant. “It’s fine.” Dez mumbles.

How pathetic is it that he’s hoarding every touch and every smile she’s willing to send his way before he’ll have to go back to the Covert alone?

“That’s good.” Neleem says, sounding pleased and a bit relieved. She then runs her hand through his hair, as if giving him a reward for having a body that heals as it is meant to, and even smiles as a little at Dez catching himself leaning into her touch and the following frown on his face.

“But maybe you should rest a little more.” Neleem adds, her fingers touching his chin. “Just to be safe?”

Dez scoffs. “I don’t need more rest. I feel fine.” He’s no weakling. “The wound is healed.”

Neleem hums. “So you could handle a little… physical strain?”

Instantly intrigued by the tone of her voice and the choice of words, Dez goes from annoyed to alert within a single heart-beat. “Yeah. Definitely.” He is further encouraged by the smile on her lips at his reply. Dez reaches out and takes a light hold of her hip, encouraging Neleem closer. “I wouldn’t mind working up a sweat.”

“Is that so?” Neleem mumbles with a smug grin, indulging him by moving closer. She trails a promising caress along his jawline. “Are you sure? Because I don’t want you to tear up your wound again.”

Dez shakes his head eagerly. “It’s fine. I swear. That bacta took care of it. I’m perfectly capable of some… physical strain.”

“That’s good.” Neleem purrs, leaning down to give him a soft kiss, before she pats his shoulder and straightens back up, all business. “Because Davarax needs help with the roof of that shed and I said I’d ask you to help out if your wound was healed. You are good with roofs, I saw that myself. You will help him won’t you?”

Dez stares at her with utter disbelief.

Neleem smiles back at him.

Dez scowls. “You tricked me.” He has blamed his wound bothering him every time he’s retreated to their room to escape Davarax and now he can’t use that excuse.

“You mean you can’t fix the shed?” Neleem asks, tilting her head in such an innocent manner it screams shameless guilt.

Of course Dez Vizla can fix a damn shed! He just doesn’t want to. Not if Davarax is going to be there. “I can, but-”

“Excellent.” Neleem cuts him off. “Davarax is waiting outside. I’ll tell him you’ll be right out.”

Ten minutes later, a seething Dez finds himself stalking outside, where Davarax is leaning against the wall with arms crossed and appears to be half asleep. “Don’t talk to me.” Dez growls as he marches by him. “I’ll fix the shed, you shut up and stay out of my way.”

Sighing, Davarax follows him without a word.

It doesn’t take much of an inspection of the shed for Dez’ suspicions to be confirmed; Davarax is far from as hopeless with repairs and buildings as Dulcy and Neleem has made him out to be. Of course. Gods forbid the man be bad at something. He’s not as good as Dez, few are, but he’d be perfectly capable of fixing the roof on Neleem’s school and he’s more than able to put together a stupid shed. This reeks of bad plotting.

Dez jumps down from the roof of the shed and lands next to the obediently quiet Davarax. Wiping his hands on his hips, Dez shakes his head. “This is stupid. You don’t need any help with this. I’m going back to my room.”

“Wait.” Davarax blurts out.

“No.” Dez flings out a hand, almost shoving his palm into Davarax’ stupid face. He does not want to hear a single stupid word from his stupid mouth. “Shut up.” But to his surprise, Davarax grabs his wrist and yanks his hand down.

“Stop acting like a bratty man-child.” Davarax snaps. As if Dez is the problem.

Dez blinks. Then he flies at Davarax with every intention of beating him to a bloody pulp.

“Get off me!” Dez shouts, lying on his stomach, struggling to free himself and so furious he’s barely able to form words. “GET OFF ME!”

“No.” Davarax grits out, putting all of his weight forward to dig his knees deeper into Dez’ lower back and holds Dez’ right arm twisted behind said back. He sounds pretty angry too, which is probably due to the hits Dez had managed to land on his ribs and his jaw. Good.

Dez draws a deep breath, about to launch into an alphabetical list of physical harm he’s going to do to Davarax if he doesn’t let him go, but that is when the obnoxious man has the audacity to use his other hand to grab Dez’ neck, push his head down, pressing his cheek against the too dry grass, and forces him still.

“Stop trying to punch me, you idiot.” Davarax orders. As if he is allowed to order Dez Vizla around.

“How about I shoot you instead?” Dez spits.

Davarax lets out a frustrated shout that sounds like music to Dez’ ears. “Why?”

Dez snorts in utter disbelief before he bellows out; “You stole my son!”

That brings several long seconds of silence, where neither man move and the words just hover uncomfortably in the air until Davarax is the one to speak first.

“I didn’t steal him, Dez.” His words are quiet and his grip on Dez’ neck softens. “You drove him away.” His fingers move to simply rest on Dez’ skin, like a comforting touch. “And you know that.”

This time when Dez bucks, Davarax shifts off him and slides over to sit next to him while he scrambles up into a sitting position as well. Breathing strained, Dez has to clench his hands to keep himself from punching him again. “I was trying to keep him alive! He was my boy and I wasn’t going to bury him like so many other Mandalorian parents. Not my son. I made him strong.”

“You were pushing him too hard.” Davarax says, in a disgustingly kind tone. “He was a child.”

Dez gets up on his feet, still breathing hard and now also shaking. “In this Galaxy, children die all the time if they aren’t strong enough.” He wipes the back of his hand over his cheek, brushing away imaginary grass. “My father pushed me worse. You remember. I never hurt Paz like that.”

Davarax’ eyes flicker away for a second, as if he’s feeling guilty, then he glances back up at Dez. “I remember.” He clears his throat. “But you were too hard on him. Paz grew up thinking you didn’t love him. That he was a disappointment to you. He needed someone to care.”

Dez’ entire body goes cold. “Why would he think that?” It doesn’t make sense.

“All he ever heard from the infamous Dez Vizla was that he needed to do better. He was never good enough. A kid needs to hear...” Davarax hesitates. “Didn’t your father tell you he loved you?”

“No.” Dez can’t picture Borr saying anything remotely as sentimental as that. He was not the kind of man who loved anything but a good battle. “But I think you’ve been spending too much time with Dulcy. It’s just words. She might love to talk, but we Mandalorians don’t need words.”

Davarax studies him for a moment. “I think we need to get better with them. Both Dulcy and Neleem keeps saying it; words have power. And I agree. They do. Even a simple word like buir.”

Dez feels the word like an elbow to the face and at this moment, he really does hate Davarax. “I should have let that guy shoot you. I won’t make that mistake again.” Stalking away, Dez’ heart is beating so loud and so fast that it basically drowns out Davarax calling out his name.

Even after he’s back in the safety of his room, Dez is unable to calm down. He paces the floor and grits his teeth like an agitated barghest. A headache is threatening to settle in and that doesn’t improve his mood further.

Paz thinking he doesn’t love him? How is that possible? HOW? He had been tough on the boy, yeah, but never cruel like Borr was. Dez knows his parenting hasn’t been flawless, but he had never been cruel, dammit! ...Had he?

The door to the room slides open and Dez spins around, ready to draw his blaster and actually shoot at Davarax if the man is stupid enough to follow him in here.

It’s Neleem. And she doesn’t look pleased. Probably regretting ever getting involved with him.

Exhaling, Dez turns away. “He started it.”

“I doubt that.” Neleem mutters and walks over to stand behind him. “Talk to me, Dez. You’ve been wound up from the moment we got to the Covert and ever since we arrived here, you’ve been downright angry. What’s bothering you?”

Talk, talk, talk… What is it with these people and their talking? Dez grunts annoyed. “Nothing.”

“It’s clearly something.” Neleem insists, placing her hand on his arm. “Why won’t you let me help you?”

“Because it’s pointless.” Dez grits out, staring at the floor. His headache is growing worse.

“Pointless?” Neleem sounds puzzled, as if she doesn’t realize that he already knows that he’ll be going back to the Covert alone. And maybe that’s a good thing? Dez should be alone.

His son had actually believed that Dez didn’t love him, Liita deserves better than to trade her lonely life on the red planet for a lonely life with him, Neleem doesn’t want to live underground while Dez has no choice, and Davarax wins at life, these are just facts. No amount of talk will change that.

“Yeah. Pointless.” Dez confirms He puts on his most arrogant tone. He is a Vizla, he doesn’t need anyone. Not her. Not Paz. No one. It’s better to end it now. “It’s not your problem.”

“How is you acting like a goon not my problem?” Neleem fires back with sharp words.

“Because you are going to leave me too!” Dez shouts in a mess of anger and hurt, and he spins around to face her.

That’s a mistake. A huge mistake. Turning around means seeing the startled surprise on her beautiful face and be reminded of just how much he’d grown to adore that face of hers. Dez could draw every single marking she has on her skin by memory alone. He knows the taste of the skin under her jawline and how she will make this cutest little snort if she breaks into a proper belly-laugh. He knows how soft her lekkus are and how strong her will can be. He knows her calm. He knows his heart will never recover from losing her.

“Dez, I…” Neleem stutters.

Dez closes his eyes. His mother died when he was too young to remember her. His father got a fever and disappeared during a dark night. Cedia went to war and never came back. Pre lost his mind and didn’t come back either. Skade didn’t bother telling him she was going to leave and ended their marriage with a holo-message. Paz, his only child, also disappeared without warning and left behind nothing but a holo-message telling Dez he’d gone with Davarax and Dulcy. Everyone always leave Dez Vizla. In the end, they all leave. Always.

“Dez.” Neleem sounds close to pleading. “Dez, look at me.”

Dez shakes his head. “Don’t. I’m too tired to play games today.” He’s tired of trying and failing all the time. He’s tired of being angry. He’s tired of hurting. He’s tired of trying to watch over his clan and have them fight him every step of the way. He’s tired of craving peace but never being allowed it.

“Dez.” Neleem’s voice is a little stronger, more determined, but now Dez feels, to his horror, that his tightly shut eyes are burning with incoming tears.

No. No way. He will not appear this pathetically weak in front of her. Dez will shoot himself in the head before he’ll let that happen.

But when he moves to turn away, Neleem grabs a hold of his face with both hands and yanks him back, startling his eyes open, and she stares at him with tears of her own while she gives a faint shake of her head.

“I’m not going to leave you, Dez.”

“You can stay here.” Dez whispers, wanting to turn away but can’t make himself break eye contact with her. “You can stay here with Dulcy and Davarax. Help out with the kids. They’ll be thrilled. I’ll just pack my stuff and head back to the Covert. Look after Liita for me?”

“You’re not listening, Dez.” Neleem says, running her thumbs along his cheekbones and smiling a little through her sadness. “You’re stuck with me, buddy.”

She can’t mean that. She can’t. But… Oh, his heart aches.

Wanting to believe but seeing no reason why she’d want to put up with more of his shitty behaviour, Dez leans forward and cautiously seeks her lips with his. Her soft warmth is endlessly sweet and feels so very soothing and so he lets the one gentle kiss turn into two and soon three.

The anger and dread goes away when Neleem leans against him and his arms goes around her. It ignites some kind of hopeless, fragile need for more. he needs to get closer. As close as he can get.

And to his soul-crushing relief; she welcomes him.

Neleem pushes her head back into the pillow and tries to breathe as her eyes flutter close while Dez’ mouth works its way down her throat. Her entire body feels like liquid fire. A heavy, drugging heat, different from the kind of heedless heat they usually experience during intimate moments like these.

There is no rush, this is slow, unhurried and lingering. Carnal pleasure seems almost like an afterthought to him as he barely moves on top of her, there is only the occasional roll of his hips that has him let out a trembling sigh and her muscles quake with longing, as Dez is entirely focused on covering her skin with soft kisses and caresses to an almost obsessive degree.

He spends a small eternity just mapping his way from her left shoulder to her right. He mouths at her shoulders, measures the roundness of her hips in his palms, nuzzles her neck and kisses her forehead before placing his own against it. He barely allows air between them.

There is so much affection in the softness of his lips and his touch, it brings tears back to her eyes.

Neleem had once overheard a couple of human girls talk about ‘making love’ and once she’d discovered what the term meant, she found it a bit hilarious and overly romanticized. Now, Neleem realizes, ‘this’ is what they meant. She never knew it could be like this. She had no idea.

Dez’ fingers braid with hers and he gives them a light squeeze as he slides his lips up her throat until he reaches her chin and she stops pushing into the pillow to lower her face and meet him a warm kiss. He doesn’t deepen it, just savours the push and give of their lips together, how they match to perfection, how every sensitive nerve between them is glowing with soft delight.

He has to release one of her hands when Dez decides he has to trail fingertips along her jawline, constantly planting soft little kisses on her lips, and Neleem absently runs her free hand down his back. The soft warmth of his skin makes every single one of his many scars seem like a crime. She wants to wrap herself around him and never let anyone hurt him again.

She lifts her hand to slide it up his neck and into that glorious mess of curls, pushing him into a couple of firmer kisses before leaning back into the pillow again and making him open his eyes to look into hers. He looks dazed, a bit drunk like her, but also still a little tense, as if he can’t quite trust that she doesn’t want their relationship to end. He looks like he thinks he’s on borrowed time.

Running her hand through his hair a couple of times, a soothing touch, she then cups the side of his face and states the obvious; “I love you.” This beautiful, stubborn, difficult, damaged and surprisingly kind human.

Dez stares like she’d just stabbed him. He’s gone completely still. He’s barely breathing.

Neleem lets him process the words while she is the one to explore his facial features with her fingertips.

“Say it again.” Dez says after a long silence.

Smiling a little, Neleem has no trouble obliging. She cups the side of his face again. “I love you.”

Being so close, she can feel the shudder running through his body.

“Again.” Dez whispers.

Now outright grinning, Neleem obliges once more. “I love you.”

Exhaling, Dez ducks down to plant a kiss between her neck and shoulder. “Again. Say it again.”

“I love you.”

His arms go around her and he squeezes her tight, as if he never wants to let her go. “Again.”

He sounds like he’s in pain. Neleem’s heart aches. “I love you.”

He moves up to kiss her lips with a taste of being lost. “Again.” Dez pleads against her mouth.

Neleem doesn’t hesitate. “I love you.” She says and feels his hand trail fingers by her temple. “I love you, Dez.”

Breathing something in what she can only guess is Mando’a and can’t understand, Dez kisses her again. Her mouth, her neck, her lekku, her hand, he can’t stop kissing her. And he keeps asking; “Say it again?”

Eventually he doesn’t even need to ask, Neleem continues to repeat the words. She runs her hands over his skin, draws her fingers through his hair, moves under him until he can’t resist and it all becomes a sweaty haze of raw emotion and growing need. “I love you.” Neleem breathes, eyes closed and fingers digging into his skin as he clings to her. “I love you.”

The silence in the room is almost deafening after the chaos that had been screaming in his head not too long ago. Dez is half-sitting in bed, propped up by pillows, and has his arm around Neleem, who is curled up against him, resting her head on his stomach and brushing light caresses on his hip with her thumb.

She loves him.

Her voice is still echoing in his head. Those words… Dangerous words. Addictive words. No one has ever told him they love him before. Not in actual words.

He’d come to accept that he wasn’t a person others loved. He thought Skade did, he was young and naive then, but she didn’t. No one did. No one but his son. Until he lost him, that is. Wasn’t that proof that Dez Vizla was unlovable?

‘I love you’.

Words have power, Neleem had said that once. And now Beskar Boy too. Dez has always been told words are for weaklings. Vizlas act, they don’t talk.

Leaning back, thumping his head lightly against the headboard, once, twice, Dez exhales. He doesn’t know what to do. He wants to be better, but he keeps messing up. His stomach starts to burn and ache, bringing a wave of nausea too.

“You okay?” Neleem asks, looking up at him.

Dez meets her gaze and her words flutter through his brain. It makes his heart do a weird flip in his chest. He wants to hear her say those words again. He wants to die for her. “I love you too.”

Neleem’s beautiful face lights up and she leans up to give him a soft kiss.

Once again the tension and unease fades away when she’s close and when she returns to resting against him, Dez leans back again and with a clear mind, thinks about his future.

He can’t have everything he wants. That’s just not possible. He’s going to have to choose.

The very next day, Dez Vizla decides to first do the thing he least wants to do. It takes all of his will-power and he fears he might regret it, but he forces himself to do it anyway.

“I…” Dez has to try again. “I’m sorry. About yesterday.”

Davarax is half-hidden behind the shed, working on something there, and stares at Dez like he has grown a second head over night. There is an almost impressive bruise blooming on his jaw. “What?”

“I said,” Dez says, “I’m sorry about yesterday.”

There is a moment of hesitation and then Davarax steps forward to fully face him. “That’s...what I thought you said.” He looks like he can’t decide whether to be scared or curious. “What’s going on?”

Dez shrugs, looks away and then rolls his shoulder a little awkwardly. “I’m apologizing, you idiot.”

“Yeah, I can hear that.” Davarax replies, snorting a laugh. “I thought you said apologies were pointless?”

He should have known Davarax wouldn’t make this easy for him. That man always has to rub Dez’ nose into everything unpleasant. “Forget it.” Dez growls and turns to leave.

“Wait.” Davarax runs over and gets in his way, preventing him from leaving. “Wait-wait-wait.”

Dez sighs and settles to wait for whatever he wants to say.

“Nice to hear you’re the one sighing for once.” Davarax grins, as if his words make any sense. Then he reaches out a hand. “Apology accepted, vod.”

It can’t be this easy. It can’t. Still, Dez sees little choice but to take his hands and shake it. He only realizes he’s entered a trap when Davarax doesn’t let go. And the grin on his face is pure evil.

“I told you we were going to become friends, didn’t I?” Davarax says with utter glee.

Dez glares. “I said nothing about becoming friends.” He tries to tug his hand free. “Let go.”

In all fairness, Davarax does let go, but only after he’s yanked Dez forward and engulfs him in an embrace instead.

Dez snarls and starts squirming and pushing at him. “What do you think you’re doing? Let go of me, you-”

“I’m sorry too.” Davarax whispers.

Dez freezes. What does he have to be sorry for?

“I didn’t realize those injuries came from your father.” Davarax confesses. “I didn’t realize Pre was making your life miserable too. And I failed entirely to see how much you needed a friend.”

Dez swallows. His stomach rolls uneasily. “Calm your saviour complex. I outlived my father and Pre both, didn’t I? A-and it wasn’t like I didn’t have any friends, you weirdo.” So what if they were Vizlas and obliged to be on good terms with him? “Besides, that was ages ago. I don’t even think about it any more. You shouldn’t either.”

Davarax’ embrace tightens a bit and Dez is about to start fighting anew to be released when the man speaks again.

“If it’s okay,” Davarax’ voice is low, strangely uncertain, “I’d like to help you reconnect with Paz.”

-I don’t need you karking help! Dez’ pride sneers. But the sad fact is, even with Liita and Neleem to help him, Dez still manages to mess things up. He has to face that he needs all the help he can get. Why not let Beskar Boy do some good for him for once. Dez clears his throat. “That would be… Yeah… Thanks.” The things he will do, the depths he will sink to, for his son.

Bizarrely enough, this makes Davarax do that weird laughter-huff of his and he really curls around him in an engulfing hug, like Dez is his best friend that he hasn’t seen in years. It’s warm, comforting and kind of… nice.

Dez nearly rolls his eyes, of course even Davarax’ hugs are as ‘perfect’ as the man himself, but he can’t quite get himself to break free. It’s too tempting to give in. Maybe just a little. Dez can count on one hand the hugs he’s gotten in his life, not including the ones Paz had happily handed out during his youngest years. Besides, it’s not like anyone will know. So Dez relaxes a little and lifts a hand to put it on Davarax’ back.

“Do you two need some privacy, or…?”

Dez’ gaze snaps over and sees Raga watching them with her arms crossed and a huge grin on her face. Behind her, Paz is all slack-jawed disbelief.

Instantly shoving and cursing at Davarax, Dez frees himself and flees towards the house.

“You call that welding?” Liita scoffs. The sun is setting but neither are willing to stop working.

“There is nothing wrong with my welding.” Dez replies with calm confidence. The bratty girl is never satisfied with any welding she doesn’t do herself, but this is his ship, dank farrik, and if he wants to work on it as well, he can. He is currently fusing two outer panels by the ship’s nose, which is important work that needed to be done and not him hiding from Davarax at all, and Liita will just have to deal.

“It’s cold.” Liita complains.

“I told you to bring a jacket.” Dez reminds her, focused on his welding.

“How was I supposed to know you were right?” Liita huffs. “Most of the things you say are wrong.”

Dez sends her a sour glare. “I’m almost always right. And if you had listened to me, you wouldn’t be freezing right now, would you? You’ve only got yourself to blame, kid.”

“You got this one thing right. Let’s not have it go to your head.” Liita mutters, stepping in front of him. “I’m cold!”

Dez turns his attention back to the welding. “So what do you want me to do about it? Summon a sun? I’m flattered that you think I have such abilities, but I’m just a humble Mandalorian.”

Liita rolls her eyes with a frustrated huff and promptly tugs the zipper on his jacket halfway down. She then, with complete lack of the expected fear and awe one should have for Dez Vizla, ducks down, wiggles her way up under his jacket and eventually ends up standing with her back to his stomach and her sullen face poking out from his jacket to continue observing his work.

“You seriously don’t know how to weld a friction seam.” Liita mutters.

Dez carries on welding. “Shut up. My welding is fine.”

Liita does not shut up. She keeps nitpicking. And he keeps giving her orders she bluntly ignores.

It’s the nicest and most relaxing evening Dez has had in a long while.

“Dez.” Davarax’ voice shatters Dez’ tranquillity.

Closing his eyes, taking a deep breath, Dez needs a moment before he turns off the welder and prepares to face Beskar Boy again. He turns and a sour comment dies on his lips when he sees Davarax is not alone.

Paz is standing next to him.

“Paz.” Dez says, stupidly, and feels a flare of anger at himself for sounding so stupid, especially as his son responds with a faint nod and a puzzled look.

Luckily stupid is what Davarax does best and he does that stupid laughter-huff of his and beams with badly hidden amusement. “Hi, Liita.”

“Hey.” She grumps from where she’s peering out of Dez’ jacket.

Oh.

Grinning, clearly finding the scene hilarious, Davarax nods in Paz’ direction. “Mind if we borrow Dez for a bit? Paz needs a word with him.”

Liita sighs, then ducks down and wiggles out of Dez’ jacket to wander forward to face Davarax. She looks up at him with a stern look. “Okay, let’s go back to the house.”

Davarax hesitates, glancing briefly over at Paz. “I, uh… I was thinking maybe I should… stay?”

Of course. Dez feels a spark of anger in his gut and his shoulders tenses up. He gets why, he’s messed up so many times that he should probably be happy that Beskar Boy can supervise, but...

“No.” Liita reaches out, puts her hands against Davarax’ stomach and forces him to start backing up. “Dez got this. Let’s go.”

The anger is knocked right out of Dez at her words. That girl...

Still backing up, Davarax looks over at Paz again, sees him nod and nods back before he shifts to walk next to Liita instead of being pushed along.

“I’m cold.” Liita declares. “Give me your jacket.”

Davarax gives her his jacket. (Of course he does.)

There is an awkward silence after Liita and Davarax’ departure but eventually Dez puts the cooling machine on the ground, no more welding tonight, and he brushes his hands together in what he’d die before admitting is a nervous move. “So, uh… What did Davarax tell you?”

Paz doesn’t look as scared as before, but his walls are up and he’s eyeing Dez cautiously. “He said… you wanted to apologize for yelling on the ship. That you weren’t mad at me.”

Dez shifts his weight and clears his throat. “I… I’m guessing you’re getting really tired of hearing me apologizing after messing up all the time, huh?”

Paz looks down at the ground and doesn’t reply. He clearly doesn’t know what to say. Either he really is sick of Dez’ apologies or he’s worried what will happen if he admits Dez had messed up.

Dez takes a step closer to his son, reaching out and almost touching his arm before catching himself and lowering his hand again. “Listen, on the ship, that was me being stupid again. Not you. Never you.” Words have power, he reminds himself. “You know I’m proud of you, right?”

Paz’ gaze snaps up to meet his. He looks shocked, so clearly this is news to him.

Dez’ stomach churns and pained guilt floods his veins. “I am. I’ve always been.” He tries to smile and fails. “Remember I told you that your mother made me happy by giving me you? You’ve always been the one good thing in my life. Possibly the only good thing in my life.”

Paz draws a shivering breath and despite the years that have gone by, he suddenly looks like the lost little boy Dez remembers.

“I’m so sorry for the way I treated you.” Dez whispers with pained intensity. “I’m so sorry. I know it doesn’t change anything, it doesn’t excuse me in any way, but I thought it was the best way to make you strong, to keep you alive in a Galaxy that kills everything it can. I was wrong. I should have told you, I should have explained, I should have… done better. I was cruel to you. I’m sorry. You don’t have to say anything, I just wanted to say I know I was wrong and I’m sorry.”

Paz swallows hard and looks away. “I…”

“You don’t have to say anything.” Dez reassures him, and now his stomach aches so much it feels like he’s been stabbed all over again. He walks away, heading back to the house, aiming to give Paz some space and prevent himself from embarrassing himself even more.

“Can I…” Paz’ voice calls out after him. “Can I still call you buir?”

Freezing in his tracks, Dez blinks frantically to clear his eyes off the karking burning sensation again(!) before he can look back at his son. He actually manages to smile this time, feels light-headed with relief. “It would be an honour to me if you did.”

Paz exhales and smiles as well, and in three long strides he’s over by his father and folds into his embrace.

Hugging him tight, Dez doesn’t care that Paz is taller than him by now, every bit as muscular as himself if not more, he’ll always be his baby boy.

He’s not Dez. He’s not Pre. He’s not Borr or Tor or any other Vizla. He’s Paz and he’s perfect.

The mood in the house seems to change after that. It’s like everyone dares to relax, to laugh and go about their business without keeping a cautious eye on Dez. Paz even seeks him out for company and with him comes Raga, who is just an utter delight with her strength and rebellious nature. The Saxons are all amazing. Dez has always found the Saxons great fun to be around.

Then there is Corin, who has always been friendly, but now he starts asking Dez endless odd questions and stares non-stop at him when he thinks Dez won’t notice. He looks more at Dez than his own boyfriend. It’s awkward until Dulcy reluctantly tells Dez of the monster that was Corin’s biological father and Dez tenses up when he hears about a temper similar to his own, but it certainly explains why Corin is mesmerized; Macero Valentis would rather have died than apologize to his son or changed a single thing about his own behaviour. It’s weak of Dez, but after that he answers his every question and lets him stare.

Two who still do not approve of Dez are Din and Zev’sonya. Din shows Dez wary suspicion and she gives him rude indifference. But they are kids and are not worthy of Dez’ time, so he more or less ignores them.

The one who surprises Dez is Mose. Again. He hasn’t spent much time with him before, but once Dez does, he discovers that the Hutt is certainly nothing like he thought he’d be. He hasn’t forgotten that Mose saved Paz’ life during the Imp attack, putting him on his good side, but discovering that the Hutt is first in line to look after Davarax and Dulcy’s girl is most unexpected.

“I would have thought you’d be more interested in eating her.” Dez comments with a wry smile as he watches Mose wipe Nemi’s messy hands clean with a rag. “Hutts don’t babysit kids.”

“Know many Hutts, do you?” Mose mumbles with a touch of defiance.

Raising his eyebrows, Dez snorts a laugh. “You got me there.” He tilts his head and studies the gentle movements as Mose cleans the girl’s tiny hands with his huge ones. “But I think you’re a bit different from the rest, aren’t you?”

Mose frowns just a little. “So? It’s not wrong. Just because everyone expect you to be something, it doesn’t mean you have to become it.”

That brings another laugh from Dez. All of his worries and heavy thoughts haunting him day and night, and a Hutt puts things into the simplest way possible and gives him the answer he’s been searching for. “Mose,” Dez moves over and pats his shoulder, “don’t change, my friend. You’re more honourable and more clever than most humans I’ve met.” He can feel the stunned Hutt watching him as he walks away.

That evening, Dulcy has put together a feast, clearly influenced by the lighter mood in the house and eager to gather even more smiles. Dez doesn’t mind. He thinks it’s silly to put so much effort into something that isn’t a big deal, but he’s happy to join in and devour good food. It’s almost worth having to sit next to Davarax and listen to his voice. He even allows Davarax’ hand to linger on his shoulder while he goes on about some project he wants Dez’ opinion on.

Suddenly a shadow falls over them and he looks up to see Dulcy hovering in front of the table, biting her lower lip and radiating delight.

“What?” Dez asks through a mouthful, wary of this scheming mastermind.

“I’m just…” Dulcy gestures towards them. “I mean, Dav has me and the kids and it’s all good, but… he must have missed having a grown Mandalorian friend to hang out with.”

Dez blinks. Then he reaches up to gingerly peel Davarax’ hand off his shoulder. “No. No-no-no. No, we?” A quick pointing back and forth between him and Davarax. “We are not friends.”

Davarax grins. His arm goes around Dez’ shoulders and he yanks him close to squeeze him tight. “We are best friends.”

“Let go of me, you clown.” Dez snarls, trying to break free and failing. The man is freakishly strong. And why are his arms so long. He’s like a squid. A freakishly strong squid. “Let go!”

“No way, buddy.”

“LET GO!”

Dulcy giggles

Neleem giggles.

Pas and the others merely stare with disbelief.

It’s late, usually Dez is asleep at this hour, when they crawl into bed and Neleem wiggles close to him with a happy sigh. She pets his stomach with a cheerful hum. “How is this doing?”

“Growing, due to the rate I’m fed here and how lazy I’m getting.” Dez replies. It’s probably true.

Neleem snorts. “Relax, Vizla, you are just as slim and buff as always. And I’m being serious. Don’t make me get the medical scanner.”

Groaning, Dez flips her over on her side and slides close to her back, wrapping an arm tight around her waist to hold her there and to prevent her from getting the scanner. “How many times do I have to tell you? It’s just a gut ache. It’s no big deal.” He can feel her draw a sharp breath to object and cuts her off. “I feel better than I have in ages, cyar’ika. Relax.”

“I’d relax if you’d let me scan you.” Neleem declares, squirming and pushing at his arm to free herself. “I swear, Dez, if you’re feeling worse and hiding it from me, I will-”

“I’m not hiding anything from you. I give you my word.” Dez has to give up holding her in place, she is determined to free herself, and flops over on his back again as she turns and crawls halfway on top of him, glaring. “For the love of… it’s just a gut ache.”

“That ‘gut ache’?” Neleem jabs a finger in his stomach, making him flinch and grunt. “It could actually kill you. Do you understand? It will continue to make you sick, poison you from the inside and then, in agonizing pain, you will die.”

Dez smiles, just a tiny smile, a smile far softer than most that grace his face, and he shakes his head while reaching out to trail a gentle finger down one of her lekkus. “I’m not going to die.” He moves his touch to her lips. “Why would I die when I finally have reasons to stay alive?”

“I need you to take this seriously.” Neleem’s voice tremble. “Please. If you keep going like this, it will kill you.”

Maybe Dez should find it insulting that she seems to think him weak, that she thinks she can order him around, but he doesn’t. She’s worried. And all he cares about right now is easing her worries.

Dez tells her his plans.

Neleem’s face is a mixture of cautious hope and, surprisingly, a little regret. “Are you sure…?”

“I am.” Thanks to Mose. “I’ve been thinking about it for a very, very long time. I’m sure.”

The next day he tells the others when they are gathered for breakfast in the kitchen. Paz looks like he’s about to faint, Dulcy gets so startled that she has to sit down and Davarax so shocked that he has to stand up.

Dez feels Neleem, sitting next to him, finding his hand under the table and squeezing it. He is a little puzzled as to why she does it, but it’s appreciated nonetheless. She seems more nervous about his decision than he is. Truth be told, he’s just ready to get it over with. “I’ll travel back to the Covert today.”

“You are really going to go back like… that?” Paz asks.

Dez nods. He’s not wearing his helmet or his armour. He’s dressed like any other traveller.

“I’ll come with you.” Davarax says, adding more shock to the situation.

Not expecting that, Dez frowns. “They may not let you in.”

“They will if you tell them to.” Davarax says, trying to smile and not entirely succeeding. A sore point, then. Beskar Boy, always the popular one, it must hurt for him to know he’s not welcome.

“I’ll be an outcast too the second they see me. Why do you think they’ll listen to anything I say?” Dez mutters.

“Because they like me,” Davarax replies, “but they respect you.”

They respect Davarax fine. They always have. But there is the chance that his defeat and absence these years may have weakened his grip on their hearts and minds. Still Dez isn’t keen on the idea. “Why would you want to come with me?”

“If your grand plan of bringing as many as possible out from underground is to work, well…” Now Davarax manages to smile and his eyes glitter with amusement. “They respect you, as I said, but they really like me.”

“You’ll be going against your sister.”

“No. I’ll just be helping to move out the ones who are already unhappy and giving her trouble.”

“I’ll come too.” Paz declares in a rush.

“Me as well.” Raga shoots in.

“And me!” Corin blurts out. Din glares at him.

Dulcy waves her hand and quiets them all. She then exhales a long breath before she focuses on the stunned Dez. “It certainly looks like you won’t be going alone, Dez Vizla.”

All his life, Dez has been reminded of the fact that he is a Vizla. All his life he was expected to be the strongest, the fiercest and an undisputed leader, and all of his life he’s tried to live up to that. He raised his son to think like that too. The Vizla blood runs thick in their veins.

- Just because everyone expect you to be something, it doesn’t mean you have to become it.

Everyone expected him to lead the clan after Pre died and it had never occurred to Dez to say no. After that, every soul in the clan brought their problems to Dez and it never occurred to him not to care. They were his people and his responsibility.

When the ship lands outside the Covert, Dez feels the first jab of nerves. He has decided and he’s not going to change his mind, but he’s bound to disappoint a lot of his followers with his decision to take off his helmet and leave and Dez hates that. They’ve all been so loyal to him.

Dez steps off the ship, leaving Liita in the cockpit, and he is followed by Davarax, Neleem and Paz. Raga, Corin and Din are ordered to wait in the cargo hold until their return.

As expected, two Mandalorians step forward to defend it when they approach the secret door.

“Step aside.” Dez orders.

The guards jolt with startled surprise as they recognize his voice, they probably scan him to confirm his identity, and Dez feels a flicker of irritation when they numbly step aside to let him in.

So much for security.

But Dez has barely stepped through the door before the guards move to block the entrance again and prevent the others from joining him. Davarax and Paz are both wearing their armour, sans helmet, but they are clearly not welcome any more. Neither is Neleem, who is a plain Outsider now.

“Let them through.” Dez says in his firmest voice. For half a nerve-wrecking second, he wonders if this is pushing it too far and will have the guards turn on him as well, but then, to his surprise, they step aside and let the others through.

“See?” Davarax whispers. “I told you.”

“Shut up.” Dez mutters back.

However, the guards must have used their comm links as there is someone waiting for them at the bottom of the stairs.

Dez exhales with relief. It’s Sungodt. His second in command and leader when Dez is not around.

“Dez?” Sungodt says, sounding like he doesn’t want to believe it is true.

“It’s me.” Dez confirms.

“Why?” Sungodt asks. “What happened? How could this happen?”

“Nothing happened.” Dez replies. “I happened. It was my choice.”

Sungodt hesitates. “But… “

“I’m sick of being stuck underground, hiding like a coward. And despite our best efforts; nothing has changed since we left Concordia. It’s time to break free, Sungodt. I want to talk to our people and offer them to join me. We can start over and make our own Covert above ground.”

Sungodt stares at him. “You want to break up this Covert? She won’t allow that.”

Davarax smirks. “I don’t think she’ll mind. She has never kept anyone here against their will.”

“I will talk to her first. Explain. Then I’ll meet with our clan.” Dez declares.

Sungodt hesitates. “They will follow you, you know.”

“I hope so.” Dez admits. Then he pulls his shoulders back and nods. “Okay, let’s go see her.”

It’s time to finally get his people out of the darkness.

Sungodt leads the way, Dez follows, behind him Neleem takes Paz’ hand and offers the nervous youth her support, and then finally Davarax, who keeps their backs safe. They march towards the new forge, ignoring the puzzled looks from fellow Mandalorians, and only have to wait a couple of seconds as Sungodt enters the room and informs their leader of the visitors before he appears in the doorway and nods.

Dez walks inside, hears the footsteps of the others following him, but most of all; feels the weight of the gaze behind that golden helmet. Fire is reflecting in the shiny metal.

She’s watching him, a silent figure behind her work bench, as ominous and omniscient as always. It’s one of the many things Dez has always liked about her.

“I have decided to leave this Covert.” Dez says, as if him not wearing his helmet or his armour isn’t screaming that already. “And I’ve come to ask my clan to leave with me.”

Sungodt raises his blaster and shoots Dez three times in the chest. “Traitor.”

As Dez is flung backwards, Davarax and the golden leader draw their blasters at the same time and fires four lethal shots each at Sungodt.

“DEZ!” Neleem screams as she rushes forward. Paz shouts; “NO!” and bursts forward as well.

Seconds later, Dez lies on the floor, muscles twitching and his mouth spitting blood, while Davarax kneeling by him and yanking Dez’ jacket open to get to his wounds. Paz is frantically bellowing at someone to bring him an emergency kit.

Tears flowing, Neleem touches Dez’ face with trembling fingers. “Stay with me, Dez. You have to stay with me.”

Dez almost smiles, despite the pain and being unable to breathe. She cares. Paz cares. Even Beskar Boy cares. They actually care.

Someone will mourn him. Nobody mourned Borr or Pre.

Dez Vizla was loved.

-Stay with me. She had pled. Neleem had been desperate and helpless as she watched Dez fade, bleeding out in front of her, but she kept pleading. -Stay with me. Please, stay with me. Dez, please.

Words have power, but they can’t heal three shots to the chest. There was nothing she could do but plead and cry while Davarax and Paz tried to stop the bleeding.

Sitting on the porch in front of the house, her feet resting on one of the lower steps of the stairs, Neleem stares emptily ahead at nothing. The neighbourhood is unusually quiet.

Stepping down on the top step of the stairway, Dez slowly eases himself down to sit next to her with a pained grunt escaping his lips. Three days and his torso still hurts. The bacta is speeding up the healing process, like usual, but this time the injuries were far more severe and not even Dez Vizla can ignore his body’s complaints if he tries to move around too much. “How are you feeling?” He asks.

Neleem huffs a laugh. “Asks the guy who got shot. Three times.”

“I’m a Mandalorian. It happens.” Dez says, but when he gets no response, he slides his arm around Neleem’s shoulders and pulls her close. “Hey. I told you; I’ve got no plans on dying now that I finally have reasons to stay alive. No insignificant fool like Sungodt can kill Dez Vizla.”

The betrayal hurt almost as much as the shots, yet he understands why Sungodt did what he did.

Also, a part of Dez wonders if this could be justice catching up and making him pay for all the hurt and misery he’d caused in the past. He’s in pain, but he’s not angry. It feels right.

“But you’re going to go back to the Covert, aren’t you?” Neleem says, finally glancing over at him. “They might actually succeed in killing you next time.”

Dez sighs. “I can’t just leave them there. I agreed to be their leader and they trust me.” He tries a faint smile. “But don’t worry. I’m not going anywhere for a while yet. I feel like crap.”

Neleem nods, still too serious for his liking, and she reaches out a hand to touch his chest where one of the bacta patches hide under his shirt. The incident had startled her badly.

And she’s not the only one still shell-shocked from what had happened.

Davarax has decided it was his fault for not spotting the danger and reacting fast enough to prevent Sungodt from attacking. Paz, the silly boy, claims that, no, it was his fault and that he had failed his father. Raga claims it never would have happened if she had been allowed to go with them.

Dulcy has turned into a complete tip-yip and monitors Dez’ progress with scary intensity. Corin has come by every day to deliver a gift and make sure he’s doing okay, and Din even joined him once to mumble wishes for a quick recovery.

The cutest visit to his sickbed was Mose and Nemi, while the scariest was Barthor just hovering by his bed and staring at him. The thin wire around Dez’ left wrist is evidence that Liita went partway through with her promise and he is now tagged with her tracking device.

Yeah, they all need a break. Dez included.

In the past, he would have thought of this as a show of weakness, but not any more. He sees a lot of things differently these days. (Davarax is still a pain, obnoxiously perfect and a magnet for the love of everyone within ten parsecs, but… he is tolerable if you just manage to disregard that. And don’t get close enough for him to get a hold and start hugging you.)

“Let’s go inside.” Dez mumbles, his lips against Neleem’s temple. “It’s late. You need to rest.”

“Again, coming from the man who was shot three times in the chest.” Neleem mumbles, irrationally stuck on that minor detail.

“Come rest with me then.” Dez drawls with a teasing grin and that finally lures a smile from her.

Neleem shakes her head with an amused expression. “Fine. I guess that is the only way I’ll know you’re actually resting and not up to something stupid.”

“I’m Dez Vizla. Nothing I do is stupid.” Dez grins, kissing her temple.

“You nearly died twice in less than two weeks.” Liita states, appearing from the house and walking over to sit down and burrow in under Dez’ free arm to settle next to him. “That’s pretty stupid in my book. That’s why I’ve tagged your signal in my tracker as ‘Stupidhead’.”

Dez grunts and tightens his grip, squeezing Liita against his side to savour her annoyed sputterings. “If you want me to adopt you, you’re going to have to start being nice to me.”

Liita squirms and shoves at him until he makes a pained sound and they both settle. “I never said you had to adopt me.” She scoffs. Then, after a moment of hesitation, the girl sends him a cautious look. “Why? Are you saying… you want to?”

Neleem rests her head on Dez’ shoulder and gives his arm an encouraging caress.

“If that would be okay with you, Liita.” Dez replies.

“I’ll think about it.” Liita mumbles and turns her face away, but not fast enough so Dez and Neleem can’t see the bright smile she’s desperately fighting against.

“You do that.” Dez says. “In the meanwhile, how about you two help a poor Mando to his feet?”

Neleem and Liita both eagerly help Dez get up, which he could have easily managed on his own but knows how satisfying it is to them when they get to be the strong ones, and the three of them start walking towards the door.

The door slides open and Paz freezes after a single step through it. He sees Neleem and Liita under each of Dez’ arms, appearing to be supporting him and helping him walk. Paz goes deathly pale. “Buir? Are you okay? Do you need help?”

Dez shakes his head with a faint smile. “Nothing to worry about, son.”

Paz takes another step forward and is clearly not reassured. “I can help.”

Gingerly lifting his arms to free Liita and Neleem, Dez is then the one to take a step forward and he reaches out to slide his hand behind Paz’ neck, making him focus on his eyes. “Paz, son, I’m just a little tired and achy, and these two fine souls were easy to trick into helping me. That’s all.”

That has Liita huffing with offence, Neleem roll her eyes and Paz grinning.

Dez will never ever tire of seeing his son smile. He used to smile so much as a toddler, but then came his teenage years and there were no smiles at all. They have so much catching up to do.

Paz easily moves forward when his father gives him a gentle tug and does not hesitate to fold into a warm hug.

So many hugs to catch up on as well. Dez doesn’t care that it is weak to want them, they feel nice. It makes him feel calm. And loved. And so what if his clan turns his back on him? Dez will still have his family and… friends. He’s not alone any more.

“Can anyone join in on that hug or…?” A voice asks with no small amount of amusement.

Dez turns around, startled as he recognizes that voice, and can only stare with mute shock as he sees a helmetless Sobek Saxon stands in front of the stairway leading up to them. Her arms are crossed, there is a wide grin on her face and Sobek radiates relaxed confidence. Behind her stands her husband, their three sons, and at least twenty more Mandalorians. None of which are wearing their helmet, but carries it under their right arm.

“What…?” Dez stutters.

Sobek shrugs one shoulder. “We followed you off Concordia. We’ll follow you above ground and into damnation too. This is our Way.”

Paz glances around, probably scouting for Raga as if she’d be summoned by her family’s presence.

A young Vizla makes his way closer to Sobek and tries to get a peek of Dez, but accidentally bumps into Shezmu Saxon, who grabs him and flings him to the ground and a vicious fight break out. Two Vizlas step forward to try to break it up, but that only causes Shezmu’s two brothers to join in on the fight.

“Now is not the time for this, you idiots!” Arren Kryze shouts, before he has to duck to avoid a punch and that is when mayhem really erupts among the Mandalorians gathered there.

Sobek doesn’t move, still looks up at Dez with arms crossed and a grin on her face.

The door slides open again behind them and Davarax comes charging out, followed by several of his children, but only to come to an abrupt halt next to Dez. He stares with disbelief at the chaos in front of the house. Dulcy clings to his arm and stares as well.

Somewhere, a window is shattered.

“There goes the neighbourhood…” Liita mumbles.

Dez grins. He sneaks one arm around Neleem, who is all eyes, and one arm around Liita, who is scowling at the loud ruffians. He looks over at his son. “This? This is the Way.” Then looks at Neleem. His heart is racing. “Will you walk it with me?”

Neleem studies his face as a smile slowly spreads across her lips. “Yes.”

“As my wife?”

“Yes.”

And amidst the loud chaos of the start of a new Tribe, Dez leans down and kisses her.

“I love you.” Neleem whispers against his lips.

“I love you too.” Dez replies with warm truth. “And, thank you. For saving me.” Without her, he would either have turned into a harsh creature like Borr or died in some random dispute. Without her, he wouldn’t have his son back in his life. Without her, he wouldn’t be a better man.

Dez Vizla has said goodbye to his old self.

Let the future begin.

#the mandalorian his son and the storm trooper #what if AU #Dez Vizla #Neleem #Davarax #Dulsissia Motti #Paz Vizsla #Raga Saxon #Corin #Din #Mose the Hutt #small mentionings of the others #the one-shots start coming and they don't stop coming #this is too long to be considered a one-shot but I don't care

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daydenmax-drawings · 3 years

Photo

A commission for @mountevey ! It was a pleasure to draw this adorable OC

#art commisions #drawing commisions #oc #oc commission

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sulphuryasecretcloset · 2 years

Text

Complicated

(This one goes out to the lovely @mountevey for the superkind words and the inspiration needed to chew on the idea of trying to repair the friendship that once existed between Davarax and Dez. As I said, Dez is a nightmare to handle and this was as close as I could get them xD Also, huzzah for the return of Ort’s favourite Trooper! )

Dez is not happy. He is not happy at all.

It’s been no more than five weeks since he, Neleem and Liita left to return to the Covert and yet here Dez is back again in the company of the wonder that is Davarax and has to watch Paz, his son, stare at the man with open affection and adoration as they wander around in this busy marked place.

Why is he back? Well… Dulcy had sent a holo, inviting them to visit for Paz’ Life Day, and Dez had accepted. Why did he accept? Well...

Just as he had feared, his fellow Vizlas and his other followers had been both perplexed and not overly pleased with the fact that Dez’ self-imposed solitude had been ended by an Outsider with no fighting skills, just like Davarax, and that he had brought two strangers into their home.

Ever since Paz had left with Beskar Boy and the Blonde Busybody over two years ago, Dez has been struggling with headaches and nausea and the weeks of knocking into clan heads that they were to treat Liita and Neleem with respect had certainly intensified that. Liita seemed unfazed by the chilled welcome, bless her, but Dez had been torn between his clan constantly bickering amongst themselves over every little thing and worrying that Neleem was utterly miserable in her new surroundings.

(He keeps expecting to find her gone one day with nothing but a brief message left behind for him.)

So he had accepted the invite to give himself a break and Neleem some daylight.

After a brief moment of thinking that maybe he’d done the right thing by coming back during the surprisingly warm welcome, Dez’ delight had been quickly shattered by Dulcy sending him, Paz and, for some evil reason, Beskar Boy to fetch some stuff for Paz’ Life Day from the marked place in this town.

So, yeah, here he is, walking behind his son and his great hero in a crowded place, and Dez is NOT happy. He should have sent Neleem and stayed behind in the Covert, where he could have searched for some curse to give Davarax at least three days of seriously upset bowels and a week of bad hair.

Lost in glorious thoughts of Davarax suffering through the aforementioned torture, Dez doesn’t pick up on the threat before it’s almost too late.

Davarax, distracted by Paz, fails to notice it at all.

Dez bolts forward, grabs the wrist of the massive man about to fire his blaster at Davarax and shoves his arm up so he shoots at the sky instead. His back towards Davarax and Paz prevents him from seeing their reactions, but Dez can almost sense their startled surprise.

The beast of a human strains against Dez’ grip and growls with raw rage. He is dressed in rags but they somehow manage to look strangely wrong to his huge, muscular shape. It’s a bad disguise and the reason why Dez’ subconsciousness probably had taken note of him as he approached Davarax.

Dez snarls back at him and reaches for his own blaster.

From out of nowhere, a figure emerges and this smaller man slams his hand against Dez’ gut.

No. Not his hand.

Dez’ HUD registers the injury half a second before his brain registers the vibroblade that has entered his body. Numbers start running and informs him of the damage already done and being done.

“Sorry.” The attacker says with an almost apologetic smile, all smug charm, keeping the blade in Dez to tear at flesh as it vibrates. "This isn’t about you. We just want the other Mando.”

Dez grunts with pain but refuses to scream. “The only one who gets to hurt that idiot is me. If you want him, you’re going to have to kill me first.” He throws in an obnoxious scoff. “And do you really think a puny blade is enough to bring down Dez Vizla?”

The man’s smile widens a bit and he clicks his tongue with an air of regret. “Like I said, this isn’t about you, but if you insist on being difficult; Dominic’s blade will most certainly rip you apart.” He winks at Dez. “I’m Dominic, by the way. And I’m not here alone.”

Behind Dominic and the giant of a man, more people step forward and about seven souls in rags take up position there. And that is when Dez gets a proper glimpse of what they are wearing underneath the disguises; Death Trooper armour. The crowd around them scatter for safety.

“You see, our former boss, who we all really liked, had a beef with your friend and, well, unfortunately our boss lost. However, the bounty he put on that Mando’s head is still valid.” Dominic grins. “Tell you what, step aside and we’ll share it with you. How about it? Yes?”

“No.” Dez breaks the goon’s wrist.

“Too bad.” Dominic says and yanks the blade out only to slam it back in again.

Dez lets go of the howling beast and delivers a hard kov’nyn to Dominic’s face, making him collapse and pull the blade along with him. Drawing his blaster and activating every weapon his HUD has access to, Dez prepares to fight every single one of these stupid Death Troopers who are foolish enough to challenge Dez Vizla. His bleeding is bad and the pain will slow him down so he won’t have too much time but he will take as many as possible with him into the grave.

The Death Troopers draw their weapons as well, yet the first shot fired comes from behind Dez.

Of course, Dez grits his teeth, Beskar Boy had to get the first kill.

Davarax’ blaster is hovering right next to Dez’ helmet and is fired again as Davarax brings down his second target before Dez finally snaps out of it and starts attacking as well.

The Death Troopers charges at them.

Like most battles, everything becomes a chaotic mess. Dez takes down his fair share of enemies, yet can’t help but registering that Davarax’ skill has not lessened over the years. He finds comfort in seeing his son keeping up with his hero at least. Himself, well, Dez isn’t doing too good. His HUD informs him that his blood loss is reaching worrying levels and the pain is making his vision blurry.

Dez isn’t even aware of his knees giving in or dropping to the ground before he hears Paz’ call out his name.

At some point, as Davarax finishes off the last Death Trooper, Paz carefully removes Dez’ helmet and stares anxiously at him for a second before shifting his focus to the wounds and trying to stop the bleeding.

Dez reaches out and takes a hold of Paz’ arm. “Hey…”

Paz looks up at him, pale and clearly worried. “I have to stop this bleeding or-”

“I told you…” Dez coughs and is a little surprised at the blood suddenly flooding his mouth to trail down his chin but decides to ignore it. “I told you I’d make you proud of me.”

This is not the heroic death Dez had pictured for himself, but that’s okay. It’s better that Davarax lives. He actually knows how to care properly for Paz. His other kids would mourn Davarax too. And Neleem deserves better than to be stuck underground with someone like Dez Vizla.

Hell, Dez thinks as darkness creeps in on him and the pain begins to fade, even his clan will now be able to find someone capable of leading them to glory once he’s out of the picture.

This is okay.

This is not okay.

Dez grunts as his darkness is pierced by pain. A lot of pain. His entire gut feels like it is filled with shards from shattered glass. And he’s horribly nauseous. Again.

Forcing his eyes open, too angry to sleep any more, Dez finds himself without a helmet and staring at a colourless roof. It doesn’t take long before he concludes he’s on some make-shift bed inside the Razor Crest, on the floor in the kriffing cargo hold. Nice. Perfect. Just perfect.

He decides to sit up, but the moment he tries to move the pain intensifies and he gives up with a soft groan of agony. No way. He’s not getting up. Reaching with a trembling hand, he finds that his breastplate is gone, along with his underarmour and shirt, replaced by a huge bacta bandage.

Dez lets his hand sink down by his side again and swallows against the urge to throw up.

Dank farrik.

“You’re awake.” Paz’ voice comes from nearby and soon there are eager steps that brings his son over to kneel down next to him. “How are you feeling?”

“How do you think?” Dez mutters. He swallows again and looks over at Paz, sees him far too happy to find him alive than what is suitable for a Mandalorian. “Are you and Davarax okay?”

Paz nods. “Yeah.” He glances towards the ladder to the cockpit where his big hero is probably hiding before focusing on Dez again. “You saved his life.”

“He’s a moron, but he’s a Mandalorian.” Dez grouses. “We look after each other.”

“You nearly died.” Paz states in a faint whisper.

A part of Dez is pleased to hear his son doesn’t sound keen on that scenario, at least he still cares whether his father lives or not, but a bigger part can’t help but to wonder if his son wouldn’t have mourned a lot more if Davarax had been the one to die. “The way I’m feeling right now, I’m almost tempted to die. It would be a relief.”

To Dez’ utter surprise, those words brings a flash of genuine hurt in Paz’ eyes.

And the even bigger surprise comes when he feels his son’s hand tentatively take a hold of Dez’ lower arm.

“Don’t die.” Paz pleads in a whisper.

For the first time in his life, Dez finds himself lost for words. He’s just staring. Oh, how he wishes he was wearing his helmet. He probably looks like an idiot.

“I really thought you were going to die and…” Paz’ voice trembles a little. “Please don’t die, buir.”

Dez flinches. He actually flinches.

He hasn’t heard Paz call him that since his son was a child and still loved his father. Forget about being stabbed, this HURTS. He never thought he’d hear Paz call him that ever again. It’s… He’s... A massive tsunami of emotions rushes towards Dez’ heart and to his horror he feels his eyes starting to burn.

Clenching his jaw hard, Dez yanks his arm free and growls: “Get out.”

Paz blinks, startled. “What…?”

Increasingly agitated as he feels his jaw, possibly soon his lips, starting to tremble, Dez adds more force to his words. Anger is always nearby and easy to latch on to. “You heard me. Get. Out.”

Pale and visibly upset, Paz gets up, hesitates, then turns away and heads up the ladder to hide in the cockpit with his hero probably.

Once the door closes behind his son, only then does Dez exhale and he ignores the pain as he quickly lifts his arm over to hide his face to the inside of his elbow. A violent shudder goes through his entire body as he refuses to cry. He refuses! Dez Vizla is a warrior. He’s no coward and no weakling. He doesn’t cry. He never cries. And yet…

Davarax hears the door open behind him in the pilot seat. “He awake?”

“Uh huh.” Paz replies in a too light tone.

Instantly suspicious, Davarax turns to look at him. What he sees feels like a kick to the gut.

Paz looks shaken and beyond sad. His broad shoulders are hunched and his face is pale.

Damn that Dez Vizla! This is the final time Davarax will let him hurt Paz like this. Enough!

Davarax gets up from his seat in a movement so sharp it makes Paz back up a step and he has to force himself a little calmer so not to scare him further. “Take a seat, Paz. I just want a word with your father.”

Paz swallows. “I don’t think… that’s a good idea. He’s not… happy.”

“When is he ever?” Davarax sighs, stepping over to guide Paz over to one of the passenger seats. “Sit. Relax. I’m just going to talk to him. We’ll be back at the house within thirty minutes, so don’t worry.”

Paz nods, still clearly worried. “Are you sure you don’t want to just stay here and let Neleem deal with him when we get back?”

Davarax huffs a laugh. “I can handle Dez. You just stay here and I’ll be right back.” He ruffles Paz’ hair until the youngster pulls away with a faint grin and fends him off with his own hands.

The smile on Davarax’ face lasts until he steps through the door and Paz can’t see him. That is when he lets the anger back in.

Davarax drops down, doesn’t bother with the ladder, and lands with a heavy thump that echoes through the cargo hold where Dez Vizla is lying like he’s the Mandalor of the ship. He stomps towards the idiot, brimming with countless angry words he’s stored up over the decades, and Dez hiding behind his arm isn’t going to stop him.

“I want a word with you.” Davarax states, coming to a hovering halt next to him. “Now.”

“Go away.” Is the muffled order he gets in return.

“No.” Davarax fires back, equally stubborn. “Look at me. You are going to listen to what I have to say and you are going to look at me.”

“I will punch you in the face.” Dez threatens.

“You can’t reach from down there.” Davarax points out, unfazed. “But I will kick you right in that bleeding belly of yours if you don’t face me like a true Mandalorian.”

That works, like Davarax knew it would. Dez’ pride in being a Mandalorian is his weak spot.

Dez yanks his arm down and glares at him with furious eyes. Eyes shining with tears.

Davarax blinks. Oh. Wow. What the…? He clears his throat, not sure whether to run away or go through with the lecture he’d meant to give him. “I, uh…”

“What?” Dez snarls, teeth bared and all anger. He would have been flying at Davarax with fist first if he’d been able to in that moment.

Davarax decides that now is not the time for a lecture. Sighing, he eases himself down to sit next to him. “Are you okay?” Personally he had bawled like a crazy person when Nemi was born and had wept when he’d lost friends, but Davarax has never once seen tears in Dez’ eyes before, not even as a child, only anger. He didn’t think the man was capable of crying.

“I got stabbed saving your ungrateful ass. Of course I’m not okay.” Dez spits. “Are we done?” He turns his face away.

“I meant…” Davarax struggles to find a way of putting it that won’t have Dez explode and also reveal to him what had just happened with Paz. “You, uh, seem upset. What’s wrong?”

“Why do you care?” Dez mutters.

An excellent question. Davarax shrugs. “Because we were friends once…?”

Still turned away from him, Dez scoffs with sour amusement. “That was a long time ago.” He discretely wipes at his eyes. “Go away. Go hang out with my son.”

It’s no shock that the man is set on being difficult. Dez Vizla always is. Especially when Paz is involved. But now that the door to the past has been opened, Davarax abruptly decides to say something that has been bothering him for decades. “Just, for the record, I didn’t lie when I said I didn’t steal your stuff back then. I didn’t break those things or put bugs in your water or-”

“I know.” Dez cuts him off, sounding more tired than anything else.

Davarax is once again struck by surprise. “What do you mean you know?”

“It was Pre.” Dez mumbles, continuing to look away. “He never liked me having any friends other than him and Cedia. I figured it out eventually and he didn’t even bother denying it.”

Jaw dropping for a moment, Davarax pulls himself together and feels another flash of anger at the idiot in front of him. “You knew. You knew all these years and you never told me?”

“What would be the point?”

Huffing and puffing his frustration, Davarax waves a hand. “Oh, I don’t know, to apologize?”

“Again, what would be the point?” Dez mutters.

Hardly believing his own ears, Davarax leans forward a little. “So I could forgive you, you massive nerf-turd!”

The laughter that slips from Dez’ lips is not a nice one, but this finally makes him look back over at him again. The tears are gone but they have left his eyes a little red and puffy. “Are you actually telling me you would have forgiven me?”

“Yes!” Davarax blurts out, marvelling at how a grown man could be this stupid. “Of course I would have, if you had apologized. I mean, you would have forgiven me if it was the other way around, right?”

“No.” Dez doesn’t hesitate and his flat voice tells the truth. “If you had done what I did, I wouldn’t have forgiven you. I never would have trusted you again. Like you shouldn’t, you soft-hearted moron. You’re going to have to do better if you’re going to look after my son. I can’t have you dying on him, understand? It would break him. So take your forgiveness, shove it up your ass and do better.”

Davarax wonders how different things could have been if only Dez wasn’t so messed up and stubborn. “I’ll tell you a secret.” Davarax offers with a faint smile. “When we were kids, you were my big hero. My biggest wish was to be your friend.”

This time Dez is the one to blink with startled surprise.

“Yeah…” Davarax confirms with a huff of a laugh and he has to force himself to focus on the present again. He sits up a little straighter. “Now, tell me, what happened with you and Paz?”

Dez tenses up and his gaze then flicks away from his. “I said something stupid.”

Like always. Davarax sigh. “What did you say?”

No response. Again, no shocker.

Davarax nods, knowing there is no way he can get Dez to talk if he doesn’t want to. Listen, yes. Talk, no. “Well, this time you ‘are’ going to apologize. To Paz. Understand?”

Dez turns his face away again but he does nod.

Returning to the cockpit, he reassures Paz that his father was just being an idiot again and it was not his fault, but amidst it all, Davarax finds that he can’t, for some weird reason, forget those tears…

That will have to be good enough for now and he will hold Dez to that apology. Davarax gets up. “Oh, and thanks for saving my butt back there.”

Dez grunts.

Davarax’ parents had raised him to become a useful tool for his sister to use. What had Borr Vizla taught Dez to make him this closed off to everyone, even his own son?

Dez’ behaviour over the years had made Davarax think the guy had the emotional range of Beskar, but he’s starting to realize that Dez might just be really, really good at hiding whatever he’s feeling, physically and emotionally. He reminds him a bit of Din on a bad day, in a weird way.

They make it back to the others.

“Did you know he was sick?” Neleem demands to know after she steps out of the room where Dez is recovering and into the hallway where Davarax and Dulcy are waiting. “I didn’t know, he never told me, did he tell you?”

Davarax shakes his head, as surprised as she sounds angry. He looks over at Dulcy by his side and she gives him a wide-eyed shake of her head as well. Turning back to Neleem, Davarax has to ask; “Sick how?” Dez had seemed fine to him. As ornery as ever, before and after he got stabbed.

“The medical scanner showed he was bleeding inside even before that horrible man stabbed him. His stomach is a mess and his blood pressure is way, way too high.” Neleem sighs and rubs her eyes. “He must have known something was wrong. His HUD would have told him.”

“Yeah…” Davarax does not doubt that for a second. Dez knew and said nothing. Because, again, the man is an idiot. Too proud to admit what he’d see as weakness. “Don’t tell Paz. Not yet.”

Dulcy frowns. “It’s his father. He has the right to know.”

“He’ll worry until his belly bleeds too.” Davarax says, then gestures for calm from both Dulcy and Neleem, who are clearly not on board with this idea. “If it turns serious, I’ll tell him myself. For now, let’s not. He’s upset enough as it is about Dez getting injured at the marked and tomorrow is his Life Day. Let him have that.”

Dulcy reluctantly nods and after half a second, Neleem does too.

“I’ll talk to Dez.” Davarax sighs and heads into the room. “I have an idea.”

Dez is lying on his back on the bed, the bacta bandage on his stomach has a couple of small red spots where blood has seeped through, yet a quick bodyscan shows tolerable results on Davarax’ HUD. The man will live. Good. Davarax takes off his helmet and walks over to stand by the bed.

Dez slowly opens his eyes, sees it is him, groans annoyed and closes them again.

“You’re sick.” Davarax states.

“You’re ugly.” Dez counters right away.

“I’m gorgeous.” Davarax corrects him before moving on. “And you knew you were sick. Why didn’t you tell us?”

“Because it’s none of your business.” Dez tries to shift over on his side to turn his back on him but gives up with a groan of pain. “Leave me alone.”

“I’m making it my business.” Davarax declares, crossing his arms. His students were all troubled and difficult souls, but he managed to get through to them, didn’t he? Surely Dez Vizla couldn’t be that much harder to reach? The guy worries so much about his son and his clan that he burns a hole in his belly? That makes him worth trying to save in Davarax’ eyes. “You and me, Dez, we’re going to be friends again.”

Dez scowls with all of his considerable might. “No. We are not.”

Davarax gives him a big, smug grin. “Oh yes, we are.”

#the mandalorian his son and the storm trooper #what if au #Davarax #Dez Vizla #Paz Vizla #brief visit by Dulcy and Neleem #the one-shots start coming and they don't stop coming

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sulphuryasecretcloset · 3 years

Text

What if...

For the record, I blame @phrenic-a and @mountevey for this one... I, uh, think maybe three parts? Four? And just posting it here, not on AO3, as I DON’T DO AUS! ...except for this one, it seems. *sigh*

What if Dulsissia hadn’t died, what if she had grabbed Corin and fled? What if she met Davarax? What if...

Part 1

Rated T for a slight touch of gloom before the fluff can start

It has been three months since they left Seswenna. Three months since she told Macero she was bringing Corin along to scout for some new outfits and her husband barely bothering to pay attention to the end of the sentence.

They couldn’t stay on Seswenna any longer. Corin is turning five soon and Macero had been hinting heavily at how was time for the boy to start his training and that it was way overdue for her to produce another child. Macero has plans and a schedule to keep.

But as neither scenario was an option for Dulsissia, she found a ship going to the most distant, dark corner of the Galaxy, scraped together some credits that Macero didn’t know about and bought two tickets.

She and Corin left that very day.

As there was no way for her to bring lots of credits without alerting Macero, Dulsissia brought as much jewellery as she dared, hoping that would be enough to last them a good while, but she had no idea that decent living quarters, servants and proper food were so expensive. And while she’d been aware of that she’d have to find some way to earn a living for her and her son, Dulsissia quickly learned that none of her skills were something that someone one this foreign, gritty and vulgar planet were willing to pay for. Here credits went to food and booze, not fashion and beauty. Here there was nothing but concrete on the ground and thick, suffocating smoke in the sky.

It hadn’t taken long before they were running out of funds and this is why they now no longer have a roof over their heads and why the food has been so scarce the last couple of days.

Her sweet, sweet boy has been so good these months. Hardly asking any questions, never complaining, simply following her like a baby-Porg with blind trust and love. Dulsissia’s heart is breaking over the fact that she’s going to fail him.

They can’t go on like this. She refuses to let him starve. They will go back and she will face Macero’s wrath before she lets her child end up like one of the unfortunate souls they see scuttling around in the alleyways here.

Lost in her misery, she doesn’t notice the danger until it is too late. An arm goes around her waist and she’s yanked away from her son. Corin calls out for her, his thin voice filled with panic, but she can’t reply as a dirty hand covers her mouth and she is fighting to free herself.

It’s a human man drawling all kinds of horrible things into her ear, clearly drunk and unwilling to pay for female company. A second voice joins in. Two of them.

Dulsissia panics, just like her son, but no matter how she fights; they are too strong and she can’t break free.

The sound of a blaster being fired is frightfully loud, but as the man lets go of Dulsissia; she’s too busy breaking free and running forward to drop to her knees and cradle Corin protectively against herself to care. The boy clings to her with desperation.

A second shot. Someone nearby falls to the ground. Dulsissia tries to cover Corin’s ears and closes her eyes while hot tears trail down her face.

She never should have left. She should have found a different way. She should have never brought Corin here. Even Macero was better than this. She would have found a way to shield Corin from his wrath. She never should have left…

“Are you two okay?” A slightly robotic voice asks.

Tensing up, Dulsissia hesitates, wondering what new horror will follow what she’s just been through, then slowly looks up at the towering shape standing there.

It is a humanoid looking being, but it is wearing blue armor and a blue helmet concealing their face. They holster a massive blaster and the helmet tilts a little in what could almost look like concern.

Dulsissia nods. She keeps Corin close, shielded from the stranger. “Thank you.” She says in a half-whisper as her throat hurts from trying to scream earlier. She hopes good manners might keep the stranger, who looks like a male, in a benign mood and that he’d not simply take over where the others had left off.

“This area is not safe. Where are you going?” The stranger asks.

Dulsissia hesitates, reluctant to tell him anything but scared she might provoke him if she doesn’t. She’s very aware of the two bodies still twitching on the ground. She says the first thing that comes to her mind. “The marked.”

A moment of silence, then the helmet nods. “I’ll escort you two there.”

There is another jab of reluctance, but Dulsissia doesn’t dare decline. Also, if they are around others, he might not dare to do anything… unseemly. She slowly straightens, keeping one hand on Corin’s head as he shifts to cling to her leg instead of her torso. “That would be very kind of you.”

The stranger turns and takes a couple of steps before he stops and looks back at her.

Dulsissia takes a deep breath, strokes Corin’s hair and then the two follow this armored stranger.

Their mysterious saviour doesn’t speak again until he comes to a halt at the outskirts of the busy marketplace filled with all kinds of shouting merchants and odd smells. “Will you be okay here?”

Dulsissia nods again, eager to be rid of him.

“Mommy…” Corin tugs at her skirts. “I’m hungry…”

“I know, baby.” Dulsissia replies, stroking his hair and feeling the urge to cry again. She wants to crouch down, look him in the eyes and explain things, but she doesn’t dare take her eyes of the stranger.

He’s looking at Corin.

“Can we eat here, Mommy?” Corin asks with hope in his voice.

“Later, baby.” Dulsissia replies and hopes with all her heart that she isn’t lying.

The helmet shifts its attention up to her, the t-shaped visor feels like it is burrowing under her skin, and the stranger stares at her for several long seconds. “Let me buy you some food.”

Dulsissia swallows hard. “That is very kind of you, but you’ve already done enough…”

A glance down at Corin again and then back at her, and the stranger nods towards the food stalls. “Come. The boy can choose. Anything he wants.”

Corin tugs eagerly at her skirt and she dares a glance down at her son. His eyes are filled with excitement instead of worries for the first time since they’d been forced to leave their apartment. His little face is dirty, she notes with a jab of disappointment in herself. Forcing herself to smile, she nods to Corin and makes herself look at the stranger’s visor. “If you insist.”

The stranger gestures for them to take the lead and they do.

Not long after that, they are seated by a table, Dulsissia and Corin on one side, the stranger sitting at the opposite side, and the boy is inhaling the huge plate of deep fried ‘something’ in front of him. Dulsissia uses the opportunity to wipe off some of the dirt on Corin’s face before shifting more food from her plate over to his.

The silent stranger watches her and while she can’t see his eyes, she can feel them. Strangely enough it doesn’t feel like he’s ogling her like those men had. Dulsissia gets the feeling that he’s trying to figure her out. Like she’s some puzzle to him.

Like he wasn’t the mysterious one? Appearing out of the shadows to save her from horrors? Offering to buy food for her child? Declining to get anything to eat for himself but insisting she get food too.

Dulsissia looks directly at his visor, sees the helmet move a little as he shifts his gaze away, if she didn’t know better she’d say a little embarrassed after getting caught looking at her. “What is your name?” She asks.

“I’m Davarax.” He replies. “May I ask for yours?”

“Dul-” Oh, old habit, she wasn’t supposed to use her real name, “-cy. I’m Dulcy. And this..” Dulsissia places her hand on Corin’s head to introduce him, but the boy beats her to it.

“I’m Corin!” He grins, mouth filled with food.

Dulsissia closes her eyes for a second. So much for not using their real names. She glues on a smile and looks over at Davarax again. “Dulcy and Corin.”

“Why are you wearing a helmet?” Corin asks and she prods his shoulder, reminding him not to speak with his mouth full and to stop asking questions. He closes his mouth and chews.

“I am a Mandalorian.” Davarax replies, as if he didn’t mind answering. (Macero would always get annoyed when Corin asked about anything.) “My Creed tells me to always wear it.”

“Always?” Corin’s eyes go huge again. “How do you eat?”

Davarax exhales what sounds like a little laugh. “I can take it off when I’m alone.”

Dulsissia frowns a little. She’s heard about Mandalorians, has she not? Mercenaries? It would certainly explain why he was so efficient in shooting those two men and seem completely unfazed by the situation. It would also explain why he’s so… muscular.

“My turn to ask a question.” Davarax says and turns his attention to her. “Do you have a weapon?”

Suddenly all the anxiousness that had been starting to seep away rushes back into her and Dulsissia tenses up. She tries to keep a blank expression. She shakes her head.

Sighing, Davarax nods. “Thought as much.” He reaches down his side. “On this planet, looking like you do and with a kid to keep safe, you’re going to need a weapon to protect yourself and him with.” Pulling up a fierce looking vibro-blade, Davarax doesn’t activate it, merely flips it over to hold the blade while offering her the hilt. “Here. Take it.”

She hesitates, but eventually Dulsissia cautiously reaches out and takes the weapon. It feels cold and heavy in her hand. For the third time in a short time, Corin’s eyes grow huge.

“Don’t hesitate.” Davarax tells her. “If someone comes after you, deal with them. Swift and hard. No regret. Understand?”

Looking from the blade and over to him, to the emotionless t-visor, Dulsissia manages a faint nod.

It’s the first time she’s ever held a weapon of any kind. Not counting cutlery. Or gossip. An actual weapon. And she’s not entirely sure she likes the feeling. It’s intimidating.

But she pulls the blade close and decides to keep it. While she might not like the feel of a weapon, she will use it to protect her son. That’s not even a hard choice to make. “Thank you.”

Davarax nods, pleased at her accepting it.

“Why are you helping us?” Dulsissia asks, shame burning in her cheeks at having to accept pity from strangers.

“Because you needed help.” Davarax replies. “Because no real Mandalorian will turn their back on a child in distress.”

Suddenly curious, Dulsissia asks before she can stop herself. “Do you have children?”

“Four. Four amazing little ones.” Davarax replies with badly hidden pride. His shoulders even pull back a little in a preening move that he’s definitely not aware of as he follows it up with an awkward shrug right after. “I mean… Technically they’re not mine. I’m their teacher.”

Dulsissia can’t help but to smile, charmed by his reply, and she remembers how she’d wished her tutor had been her real father. “Lucky them.”

Davarax shrugs again and to her amusement, the mighty warrior does appear a little awkward. He probably did not mean to reveal so much about himself. She hides a smile by daintily picking up a piece of food and nibbling on it while moving the rest over onto Corin’s plate.

“Should I get some more?” Davarax asks. “You should eat some too, you know.”

Dulsissia shakes her head, despite the hunger gnawing in her belly. As long as her son is full, she’s fine. And while Davarax did not hesitate to buy whatever food Corin had pointed at and has given her what looks to be a valuable vibroblade, she’s not blind to the worn down look of his armor and clothing. He might be generous, but he’s not rich.

After stuffing himself beyond what he probably should by cleaning the plate yet again, Corin makes a faint sound of pain and moves over to lean against her. “My tummy aches….”

“I’m not surprised,” Dulsissia replies with a smile, leaning down and kissing his hair, “you ate like a Rancor.”

Corin laughs a little but remains leaning against her and it doesn’t take long before he’s drowsing.

Sighing, Dulsissia strokes his dark hair and feels the guilt suffocating her again. Her poor boy is finally full, but now the exhaustion from barely any sleep over these last couple of nights is setting in and she needs to find out where to seek shelter for the night without any credits to pay for it.

Either Davarax reads her mind or he just picks up on Corin’s exhaustion, but he once again looks at the boy and then her and asks his question. “Where are you staying tonight?”

Dulssisia clenches her jaw and looks away. The humiliation burns.

A second pass, then two, and finally it seems like he understands. “Oh.” Silence follows and if not for how Corin is more of less asleep on her arm, Dulsissia would have walked away.

“Listen,” Davarax says, shifting his weight a little, “don’t take this the wrong way, but you two could join me in my room. This place is even less safe at night.” He shrugs one shoulder. “I would rent you your own room, but, well, they’re really-”

“Expensive, I know.” Dulsissia cuts him off. Her face is burning even hotter now, both with the continued humiliation of being broke and what sharing a room with a strange man might include.

“I give you my word you’ll be safe.” Davarax says with firm conviction. “Both of you.”

Dulsissia knows she shouldn’t. She knows it could be a trap. But she also knows she needs to find a place her son can sleep without fear or danger hanging over his head. “Tell me the names of your children.” She asks.

“Paz, Barthor, Raga and little Din.” Davarax replies no hesitation, but with a touch of confusion. “Why?”

Dulsissia smiles and shakes her head. “No reason. Just curious.” So he wasn’t lying about the children. He knew their names by heart. A teacher. She decides to risk it.

Corin is fast asleep by the time they decide to head to the inn. Dulsissia hoists him up and grunts with the effort. He’s still her baby boy, but he is definitely getting bigger. Arms and legs hanging down, dangling with the apathy only a sleeping child can produce, Corin burrows his face to her neck and sleeps on.

Seeing her struggle, Davarax reaches out. “Here. I’ll take him.”

“No.” Dulsissia’s answers is short and hard, and she turns to shield her son from the Mandalorian.

No one is taking her son away from her.

Davarax lifts his hands in a sign of backing off and nods. He then gestures to one of the large buildings looming behind the others. “This way.”

Dulsissia tries to focus on Davarax as they walk to avoid thinking about the weight of Corin. (He must be extra heavy from all the food.) The Mandalorian is tall. Dulsissia had some height on most women on Seswenna, but he is so tall he makes her seem short. And while the armor might make him seem even bigger, there is enough of him without the blue plates so she can tell that, yes, there is definitely muscle there. He walks with the grace of a predator.

Dulsissia feels a prickle of fear and is actually grateful for the reassuring weight of the vibroblade in her pocket.

They enter a grey tower of a building, head up to the third floor, passing by one rowdy soul after another, before entering the safety of their temporary refuge. The relief of being inside is quickly snuffed out by Dulsissia seeing, with rising despair, that there is only one bed in the room.

She clutches the sleeping Corin close, but doesn’t get the chance to panic or run for the door before Davarax walks over to the transparisteel and flips the switch to block the sound and light from outside and says; “Don’t worry. You two take the bed. I’ll sleep on the floor. It’s okay, it’s what I usually do on missions anyway. Few places I travel to have inns.”

Dulsissia hesitates. It feels wrong that the man who had paid for the room was now forced to sleep on the floor, but… She looks at the sleeping boy in her arms and her heart breaks again. Her pride dictates that they’ve accepted far too much charity from this stranger as it is, but her maternal heart doesn’t care. Her boy can sleep in a bed tonight.

Gently easing Corin down on the bed, a wistful smile appears on her face when he makes a happy sound at the soft mattress and Dulsissia tucks him in. Once that is done, she turns to look over at where Davarax has settled on the floor next to the wall with the transparisteel.

He lies on his back, hands folded on his stomach, his blaster on the floor next to him, and his visor staring up at the ceiling. His helmet. He can’t even remove his helmet as long as they’re there. He hasn’t eaten either, only provided food to them.

Dulsissia swallows hard, reaches out and takes one of the two pillows on the bed, the one Corin is not using, before cautiously making her way over to Davarax. She holds it out to him.

He shakes his head. “I don’t need it. I’m used to this and the helmet has padding. It’s fine.”

“Please.” Dulsissia says. Her final fragment of pride giving up. She can’t pay him back, but… she can give him her pillow.

He looks over at her, watches her for a couple of seconds, then he slowly reaches out and takes the pillow. “Thanks.”

Dulsissia nods, turns away and walks back towards the bed and her sleeping son. She’s almost there when she hears Davarax speak.

“Are you two running away from something?”

With her back towards the Mandalorian, Dulsissia stands by the bed and looks at Corin. He looks peaceful and content. It takes so very little to make that boy happy. “Yes.” After everything this man has done for them, she can’t lie.

“Is there someone out there hunting you?”

Dulsissia closes her eyes. She sees Macero’s face. She knows he was probably beyond livid when he discovered what she’d done; taken their son and disappeared. Left him. She knows his pride will never give up and that he is searching for them this very moment. “Yes.”

Davarax doesn’t ask any more questions so she climbs into bed and curls herself around her son. She has no idea what to do tomorrow, but Dulsissia is so very, very tired… and soon she’s asleep.

A gentle grip on her shoulder wakes her the next morning and she opens her eyes with a violent start that also wakes her son and has him go from relaxed to frightened within a second.

“Sorry.” Davarax says, pulling his hand away. “I tried to call your name. Neither of you responded. I was starting to worry there was something wrong.”

Dulsissia sits up and automatically pulls Corin close, wrapping her arms protectively around him despite how he calmed the second he saw the Mandalorian. “No, I’m sorry. I guess I was more tired than I…” She sees the small table to the left has several small containers with what her nose tells her is food. Davarax can’t eat his breakfast before they’re gone. “...than I was aware of.” She lamely finishes and dreads the second Corin smells it too. How is she to explain to him that she has no breakfast for him? “We’ll be out of your room in a minute.”

Davarax gestures to the table. “Eat. Please.”

Corin’s head snaps up and he scouts around the room. “Breakfast?” He starts pushing his mother away, trying to free himself. “So hungry!”

“Baby, no.” Dulsissia says, holding him back. “That’s Davarax’ food.”

“I ate earlier.” Davarax says, walking over to flip the switch that will make the tansparisteel let light and sound in again. “This is for you two.”

Letting Corin go in another wave of defeat, feeling like an utter failure, Dulsissia just sits on the bed while her son eats. Corin happily digs into the containers and pulls out treats with glee.

“Dulcy…” Davarax says, and his voice is suddenly so very soft and gentle. Like he isn’t some random stranger they just met, who has done more for her son than she’s been able to do in days. Like he is someone who cares. “You have to eat.”

Nodding, she’s used to doing what she’s told, Dulsissia gets up and walks over to the table. The first mouthfuls are difficult, she’s struggling not to spit it back out, but then Corin looks over at her and gives her a wide, happy grin. He lost a tooth last week. Her sweet baby boy.

Okay, enough self-pity. Keep going, girl. For Corin.

Dulsissia eats.

By the time they leave the room, Corin is both filled up with food and sleep and is once again the energetic child she’d seen during the first weeks of their freedom. He’s running around, exploring and darting back to her and Davarax when things get too scary, and Dulsissia smiles. She has a moment of fear when Corin decides to jump up and grab a hold of Davarax’ arm and use him as a rope-swing, but instead of getting angry, the Mandalorian merely sways him back and forth. He even answers every single one of Corin’s billion questions until Dulsissia orders her son to stop pestering the man.

The sun is almost strong enough to break through the heavy smoke in the sky today. Corin is watching a couple of teenage Zabraks play some game with a leatherball in an empty parking area while Dulsissia and Davarax sit on a fallen tree nearby.

“Your children,” Dulsissia says, happy to pretend this is just a normal day, “what are they like?”

Davarax hums and there is a smile in that sound. “Paz was my first. He’s a handful. He’s as tall and broad-shouldered as kids five years older than him and he loves to pick fights. But once you get under that tough surface, that boy is a giant softie who thinks it is his job to look after everyone. Barthor, my second one, is the most clever creature I’ve ever met. His intelligence is off the charts. He gets frustrated because the rest of us take so long to catch up to what he already knows, poor soul. Now, my third, Raga…” Davarax sighs and looks over at her. “She’s the scary one. Paz more or less persuaded me to train her because no one else wanted her. Her temper, teeth and absolute lack of fear has made her quite infamous at the Covert. It’s a shame so few get to see her sweet side, because she does have one.” The Mandalorian turns his attention over to Corin. “And then there is little Din. Your boy reminds me of him. I found Din shortly after his parents were killed. He was adopted by some friends of mine, but I get the feeling it’s not going too well…”

Mesmerized, Dulsissia cannot imagine for a second that Macero would be this caring about any of his children that he’d end up having. “They are lucky to have you.”

Davarax shrugs. “I feel like I’m the lucky one. Children are a blessing to Mandalorians.”

Smiling, Dulsissia looks over at Corin as well and they sit in silence for a while.

“I have to leave soon.” Davarax says, blurting it out as if he’s been holding it in for a while.

The words act like a fist clenching around Dulsissia’s stomach. She’d known this was just a temporary break in the nightmare that is her life these days, a brief respite, but she still hates that it has to end already. “Oh.” Corin is going to be devastated too.

“I finished my mission this morning when I got the food.” Davarax says. “I have to go back to the Covert. Report in. Check on my kids. Do some repairs on my ship.”

Dulsissia nods, but can’t look over at him. “I understand.” She forces herself to smile again. She’s good at that. “Well, thank you for everything you’ve done for us. For saving me, but most of all for the kindness you’ve shown Corin. He hasn’t had much of that in his life…”

Davarax doesn’t answer right away and she worries that her words hadn’t been grateful enough. She’s just distracted by how she can feel despair snapping at her heels at the thought of what lies ahead of her. She will fight a way to feed and house her son, but she knows it won’t be easy. And it scares her how close she’d been to going back to Macero…

“You could come with me?” Davarax says the words with the amount of caution you’d use for a skittish dewback. “You and Corin, you could come stay at the Covert for a while. You would be safe from alley creepers and no one would find you there.”

Dulsissia stares at him. “But… I’m not a Mandalorian. Neither is Corin.”

“The leader of our Tribe will let you two stay if I ask her.” Davarax sounds certain in his words. “I promise you, there will be a place for you there. We can teach you how to fight, how to protect yourself and your son. We can help you keep him safe.”

Dulsissia considers it, looks over at her son and knows what he would say, but the boy is too trusting. Corin still thinks his father is a good man at heart. “If he found out, he would destroy your Covert. I can’t repay your kindness by bringing evil to your door.”

“I can promise you,” Davarax leans closer, “that if this fool tries to challenge my Tribe, we won’t be the ones to be destroyed.”

#the mandalorian his son and the storm trooper #Dulsissia Motti #Davarax #Baby Corin #Fearsome Four #Mandorin AU #I SWORE I WOULDN'T WRITE THIS

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sulphuryasecretcloset · 3 years

Text

What if... Part2

(Amazed and honoured at the reception of this one! So very happy y’all enjoyed this little AU that I was NOT going to write xD And thank you for the reblogs and comments, you wonderful people you! <3

For the record, I still blame you @phrenic-a and @mountevey And I see you encouraging them @novembermurray ! )

What if Dulsissia hadn’t died, what if she had grabbed Corin and fled? What if she met Davarax? What if...

Part 1

Part 2

She’s lost her mind. Dulsissa has thought this very thought many times during these last three months, but stars above; she really must have lost her mind now.

The Mandalorian, Davarax, is a complete stranger. She doesn’t know anything about him, only some fragments about his children that she has a feeling are real but might as well not be. And here she is holding her son’s hand and following this man to his ship, fully prepared to board it with him and go some place she has no idea where is to stay with a people she has no clue who are.

“This is your ship?” Corin asks with slight disbelief when they come to a halt in front of it.

Like Davarax’ armor, the ship has seen better days.

Embarrassed by her son’s words, Dulsissia gives Corin’s hand a warning squeeze and sends him a stern look that makes him shrink a little and shuffle his feet.

-Think it, don’t speak it, she’s told him countless times. His honesty will cost him one day.

Davarax snorts an amused laugh, saunters forward to reach out and place an affectionate hand to the ship’s hull. He pets it a couple of times like it’s a living creature. “She might not be the fanciest, but..” The helmet turns to look back at Corin. “I can promise you, Corin, you won’t find a better ship in the Galaxy. The Razor Crest is tough, fast and loyal. Treat her right and she’ll look after you.”

The disdain in Corin’s eyes is replaced with awe. “Really?” He whispers.

“Really.” Davarax confirms, giving the ship a final pat before lowering his arm to press a button on his vambrace. There is a click and a hum and the ship opens a side door, lowering a ramp for them to enter. “Let’s go.”

Dulsissia smiles a little as she follows Davarax inside and how Corin now is pulling eagerly at her hand to make her hurry up. A magical ship is irresistible to a little boy, while she tries hard to ignore the scorch marks she sees on the hull and the ominous weapons attached to it.

Inside, the ship is a lot roomier than she expected it to be. The cargo area makes for a great playground for Corin. The sleeping quarters are narrow, but she doesn’t require much space and Corin even less so. The cockpit is fascinating, she’s never been in one before.

And neither has Corin.

“Baby, no.” Dulsissia reaches out to pull Corin away when he walks right up to the control panel after Davarax has found his place in the pilot seat and watches with utmost amazement as he starts flipping switches and pushing buttons to bring the ship to life. “Come here. Don’t bother Davarax.”

“It’s okay.” Davarax reassures her. He glances over at the boy. “You want to help, young sir?”

Corin nods, too overwhelmed to talk.

“Flip that one.” Davarax points at a tiny switch and Corin instantly reaches out and flips it. “Good job. And now press that button.” He lifts the boy up so he can reach the button in the ceiling.

Dulsissia bites her lower lip to keep from getting too emotional as she watches her son eagerly obey instructions and soaking up every bit of encouragement and praise from the Mandalorian, starved for both after all the years his father gave him none. It hurts to watch how such simple kindness from a man stuns Corin but it is also so good to see her son this happy. Maybe she didn’t lose her mind when she decided to go with Darvarax, maybe it was the one good choice she’s made since deciding to leave Macero? She hopes.

“Okay, ad’ika.” Davarax says. “The Razor Crest is awake. Time for you to get in your seat.” He nudges Corin, who reluctantly wanders over to the one seat left after his mother claimed the one behind Davarax. He climbs, with a little difficulty, up on it, and settles. A tiny boy in a big seat.

Dulsissia moves over to buckle him in and frowns. He’s too small. It won’t keep him safe at all.

Without looking over at them, Davarax makes some final adjustments on his panel. “Next to the seat. On the left. There’s this box he can sit on. I use that when I bring Din or Barthor along.”

Dulsissia blinks. It’s not something she’d picture a mercenary to have on his ship. But a peek down the side does indeed reveal a box and once Corin is sitting on that, he gets a better view, to his delight, and the belts actually fit him instead of choking him, to her relief.

The ship takes off and sets course for the darkness above. Dulsissia is not sorry to leave this place.

Now all she has to worry about is what Nevarro is like and how the Mandalorians will react to Davarax bringing home a stray and her offspring. She wonders if the other Mandalorians are like Davarax, if she will get to meet his children and most important of all; will Corin like it there?

The journey to Nevarro will take two standard days. It’s strange how two days on a small ship with her husband or her friends would have driven her insane, but the hours on board the Razor Crest feel safe and almost enjoyable as Davarax’ patience with her son’s continued craving for his attention and praise.

Every time her boy butts into whatever the Mandalorian is doing, calls for him to look at what he is doing instead, Dulsissia feels a stab of dread, waiting to hear the sharp annoyance that would always follow his attempts to reach his father, but every time Davarax replies with mild amusement and eternal patience. He even brings Corin along to ‘help’ with some repairs in the cargo area and leaves her to just rest or whatever she feels like doing.

With there being no place for the man to run off with her child, it’s not like he’ll jump into space with him, and a growing trust in Davarax, Dulsissia ends up sitting in the cockpit like an idiot and having no clue what to do. It’s been almost five years since she didn’t spend every second of her day hovering over Corin.

After what feels like a small eternity of just sitting there, listening to the muffled voices from the cargo hold, Dulsissia notices her reflection in the transparisteel and slowly lifts a hand to her blond locks. Oh, she looks a mess. No wonder Davarax had decided she needed help; she looks like a wookiee.

When Davarax and Corin returns to the cockpit, she has eased the final hairpin into place and her sweet boy lights up at the sight of her. He runs over, places his hands on her knees and looks up at her with a smile so bright it makes her smile as well. “Wow. You look really pretty, mommy.”

Davarax ruffles Corin’s hair as he walks by him on the way to the pilot seat. “She always does, ad’ika.”

Her face burns for some reason. Dulsissia pulls Corin up to sit on her lap and she changes the topic. “What does that mean? You keep calling him that.”

“It’s from my language. Mando’a.” Davarax replies, fidgeting with something on the panel to see if the repairs were successful. “It’s what we call our youngsters.”

Smiling, oddly pleased with the answer, Dulsissia looks down and sees Corin has gotten oil on his face and starts the battle of wiping it away while he tries to squirm free.

It’s not just Corin who gets to learn new things. On the second day, while her boy sleeps, Dulsissia takes out the blade Davarax had given her and tests the weight and feel of it. Wearing a dress restricts the movement of her legs a bit, so she’ll need to have a good idea of how to use her arms. Make the most of what she can use.

She feels stupid, waving the blade around, pretending to stab an invisible opponent, but Dulsissia gets so into it that she’s entirely unprepared for a hand suddenly gripping her wrist.

Startled, she flinches and almost drops the knife.

“Not like that.” Davarax’ voice says from behind her. She hadn’t heard him approach.

His gloved hand slides over her pale one and helps her turn the blade so she holds it in a reverse grip instead.

“Like this. It will give you more options during an attack and more power. More power to do more damage. Plus,” Davarax steps closer and slides his other arm loosely around her waist in a slight mimicry of how those men had grabbed her, “you can do this.”

The hand on hers adds a little pressure and makes her lower her arm in a careful swing until the blade goes by her thigh and the tip comes to a halt against the front of his thigh.

“And when the blade is in, you twist.” His voice is so calm. And so close. If not for the helmet, she suspects she’d feel his words on her neck. “Understand?”

Dulsissia gives a quick little nod. Her eyes probably as big as Corin’s tend to get around this man.

“Good.” Davarax lets her go and circles to stand in front of her. “Now, if someone approaches you from the front, what you should do is-”

She still feels silly, waving the blade around and Davarax letting her practice on him when he could disarm her without even looking her way, but at the end of that first session; Dulsissia knows where to aim and how to do as much damage as possible.

Also, when the Mandalorian hands out praise, she can’t blame her son for wanting more because she realizes that she hasn’t heard too much of that in her own lifetime either and it feels really, really good to finally think she’s not hopeless at least.

When they land on Nevarro, Dulsissia can’t help but to feel nervous again. She picks up Corin, who allows it with a resigned sigh, and holds him close while following Davarax off the ship. The journey has been another respite before facing her difficult situation, but it’s over now.

Time to find out what will be next for her and her baby.

Davarax leads her through the dusty city, Dulsissia places a protective hand on Corin’s head and shields him from seeing leers and sneers sent their way, and they finally reach a door that brings them underground to the hidden Covert of the Mandalorians.

It’s dark below and it takes a while for Dulsissia’s eyes to adjust so she doesn’t see them until she’s walking right by the other Mandalorians, who stand there, staring at her with emotionless t-visors.

Flinching with a startled sound, she jumps forward and nearly bumps into Davarax’ back.

“They won’t harm you.” Davarax says, not turning around or even slowing his walk. “You’re safe.”

Looking around as they walk, Dulsissia hopes he is right, because there are quite an amount of armored people there and they aren’t exactly rolling out a welcoming committee. “If you say so.”

In the depths of the tunnels, they approach what appears to be the seat of power, judging by the decorations and respectful behaviour of the ones there.

They have taken one step inside the room, it appears to some kind of a forge, when Davarax stops and Dulsissia follows his example. “Stay here.” He says. “Only speak when spoken to.”

She then watches in silence as he steps forward and walks over to kneel down in front of the forge where a Mandalorian in a golden armor and a fur cloak is working on something. Minutes pass and Dulsissia has to hoist Corin a couple of times as the boy really is getting heavy, but they all wait for what has to be the leader of the Mandalorians to finish whatever they are working on.

Finally the one in the golden helmet puts the hammer down, lingers and walks over to where Davarax is kneeling. “Did you complete your mission?”

Davarax reaches into the pocket of his belt, fishes out a handful of valuables and places them on the ground as an offering.

The leader looks at what he has brought, gives a thoughtful nod and then shifts her attention to Dulsissia. “And you have brought something else to the Covert as well.”

“They need a place to stay. Somewhere safe.”

“A foundling is always welcome.” The leader replies in a neutral voice. “This other one does not look like a warrior.”

“She has the makings of one.” Davarax counters in an equally neutral voice. “She will be my responsibility. Both of them.”

“Very well.” The leader says, but she does not sound pleased. “This is the way.”

“This is the way.” Davarax echoes. He gets up and walks out of the room, only pausing to give Dulsissia’s arm a light touch to signal her to follow him. She does.

Once they are at a certain distance from the room and the leader, Dulsissia hoists Corin, who she suspects is too scared by these new surroundings to say anything, and voices her thoughts. “She doesn’t want me here.”

Davarax does his little trademark huff of a laugh. “Don’t worry about it.”

Dulsissia sighs and hoists Corin a little again. Her arms are burning. She does not expect Davarax to come to an abrupt halt, forcing her to stop as well, and turn around to hold out his arms.

“Give him to me.”

Dulsissia clutches Corin a little closer and stares at him with surprise at his betrayal.

His helmet tilts a little and Davarax is the one to sigh. “Just until I can show you your room.”

She hesitates for several seconds. What convinces her is Corin pushing away from her and reaching out to him, and only then does Dulsissia hand her son over to the Mandalorian and awkwardly wraps her arms around herself instead.

Corin quickly settles on Davarax’ arm and looks around with bright, curious eyes from his new and taller perch.

The Mandalorian reaches out his free hand and gently touches by her shoulder. “Come.” He says, not unkindly. “Let me show you where you’ll stay.”

The door slides open. Stepping inside, Davarax following her with Corin, Dulsissia looks around and finds it small and modest but far cleaner and inviting than some of the inns she and her son have stayed at during these last weeks. There are no windows, but there is a light in the ceiling.

There are two beds, a rickety looking table and some hooks in the wall to hang clothing on.

“It’s not much, I know.” Davarax sounds a bit awkward. “But it will be yours.” Dulsissia looks over at him with a grateful smile. “It’s wonderful. Thank you.”

Davarax turns sideways and points at the door they can see across the hallway. “That’s me. If you need anything.” He puts Corin down on his own two feet and lets him run over to climb into the closest bed and start jumping on it.

“Corin, baby, no.” Dulsissia says, meeting the defiant look he sends her way with a stern look of her own and feels a smug sense of victory when the boy sits down with an annoyed huff. She can then turn her attention back to Davarax. “You have done so much for us already. How can I ever repay you?”

He seems surprised by her words and it takes a second before he shakes his head. “There is nothing to repay. You don’t owe me anything. Neither does your boy. I just want you two to be safe.”

Dulsissia has to turn away to hide her eyes flooding with tears. She’d given up on there being decent people in the Galaxy and then she had to stumble across the most noble of them all?

“I’ll, uh, give you some time to settle in. Get some rest.” Davarax mumbles, backing out of the room. “I’ll be back later. I’ll see if I can get you some spare clothes. I know there are some for Corin. And then I’ll show you two around. Sounds good?”

“Will you show me the training room?” Corin asks with badly hidden hope.

“Absolutely, young sir.” Davarax replies with a bow that has Corin giggle with delight.

When the door slides shut behind the Mandalorian, Dulsissia walks over to sit next to her sweet boy and combs her fingers through his thick, dark hair. “We are going to stay here for a while, baby. Okay?”

Corin nods eagerly and gives her another gap-toothed smile. “Yeah! Dav’rax gonna show me where he trains to fight bad guys. Maybe he can teach me too?”

“We’ll see.” Dulsissia replies, unwilling to make any promises on behalf of the man. While she’d prefer her son to never see battle in his lifetime, she’s not stupid. Once she chose to leave Seswenna, she condemned them both to an existence where they both will have to learn to defend themselves.

She and Corin explore the room, discover there is a barely visible door on the western wall that leads to what has to be the Galaxy’s tiniest refresher room, and they play-fight over who gets which bed, but in the end there isn’t all that much to do but wait for Davarax to return.

When there finally is a knock on the door, both Dulsissia and Corin eagerly jump to their feet and is equally pleased to see the now almost familiar Mandalorian. Dulsissia is fairly certain she’d be able to recognize his helmet and armor in a sea of others at this point.

Davarax holds out a small pile of clothes. “This will at least give you something to change into.”

Accepting the gift, Dulsissia manages another smile, despite once again feeling the bite of humiliation. She thinks about the gorgeous dresses she used to wear. The adorable outfits she had made for Corin. She’ll probably be the first Motti to ever use second-hand clothing… Then she snaps out of it and clutches the clothes close with a sense of appreciation instead. “Thank you.”

“And you, ad’ika, are you ready to check out your new home?” Davarax asks Corin.

“Yes, sir!” Corin replies, back straight and eagerness barely contained.

The Covert, as she understands it is called, is a complicated network of hallways and tunnels. It used to be the old sewers of Neverro, Davarax explains and Dulsissia tries not to shudder. At least Macero won’t think to look for them here.

The other Mandalorians are still staring quietly at her, but the ones Davarax introduces her to give her a polite nod at least. They don’t seem hostile, but they aren’t exactly brimming with hospitality either. Dulsissia suspects that maybe they don’t get too many visitors in their underground home.

She minds her manners, tries to not offend anyone and considering that none of them draw their frankly intimidating blasters says she might not be doing the worst job of it. Dulsissia used to be so very good at socializing. She was the queen of all the balls back on Seswenna. Now she’s only hoping not to offend.

“And I saved the best for last.” Davarax says with the excitement she usually hears from her son. He stops by a door, turns to face her and lets his hand over over the button to open. “My kids.”

Dulsissia has just enough time to feel both surprise and nervousness and then the door slides open.

Lined up in a neat row, clearly having been given firm instructions to be followed when Davarax brought her and her son, four children stand in the middle of what looks like a training room and stare at the new arrivals.

The one of the left has to be Paz. If she didn’t know any better, she’d think he was sixteen, not eleven. He’s a lot taller than the others, but lacks the lankiness that would usually follow such an early height growth. He has the powerful bones to carry the height, but a child’s face. Paz’ dark hair is cut entirely short except for the unruly spikes on top, his mouth is a thin, disapproving line and his big hands are clenched. Next to him, barely reaching his team-mate’s shoulder, is the one that has to be Barthor. He has curly, dark hair that is getting a bit long, scarecrow shoulders and sharp eyes that are locked on Dulsissia like he’s seeing her with a crosshair on her forehead. Next to him is definitely Raga. Like Barthor, she’s small and skinny, but she has the most amazing hair Dulsissia has ever seen. It is a wild mess, but the volume and the curls are stunning. Too bad the glare behind the mane warns her that she’ll get her fingers bit off if she so much as tries to touch it. And then, half hidden behind Raga, is the one Davarax keeps referring to as ‘little Din’. He’s not especially small for his age, but he appears to be a lot more timid than the others. He is very cute, though, with silky dark hair and soulful eyes.

Davarax walks over and starts introducing each child. Dulsissia is pleased to hear she’s guessed right about their identities and gives a brief curtsy. “Pleased to meet you. I am Dulsissia.”

Silence.

Davarax reaches out and pokes a finger at Paz’ head. “Hey.”

Paz’ nose twitches, like a hound about to bare its teeth, then he reluctantly steps forward until he stands in front of her and he reaches out a hand. “I’m honoured to meet you.”

Trying to hold back an amused smile and failing to a certain degree, Dulsissia takes his hand and he shakes hers with a stern look on his little face, trying so hard to act like an adult. She has to stop herself from hugging him. It’s so cute.

Barthor gives her a nod, which is good enough for her but gets an annoyed sigh from Davarax. Raga moves forward, Din following her like a tail, and she seems more interested in something behind Dulsissia.

What… Oh. Right.

Dulsissia reaches back and ushers Corin out from his hiding place. “This is Corin. Say hello Corin.”

“Hello.” He says in a tiny voice, looking from one to the other and probably feeling like prey. She doesn’t blame him. He hasn’t really played with other children before. Macero didn’t think it would be good for him to mix with others. And these ones are already being trained to be warriors.

Paz frowns and crossed his arms. “Are you going to take the Creed?”

Corin blinks. “I…”

“They are going to stay with us. That’s all you need to focus on, Paz.” Davarax replies.

“Is he going to train with us?” Barthor asks, his eyes still too sharp for someone so young.

“We haven’t decided that yet.” Davarax says and glances over at Dulsissia.

“He should play with us.” Raga says, her lip curling in something that could be a smile but is mostly a flash of teeth. When Corin shuffles to partially hide behind Dulsissia’s leg, Raga doesn’t move but her eyes move with him.

“He is going to play with you.” Davarax says and stalks forward until he’s standing next to Raga, towering over her. “And you’re all going to be nice to him. Understand?”

The girl scowls up at him. “I’m always nice.”

“No, you’re not.” Barthor scoffs.

Raga’s mess of a hair bounces as she snaps her gaze over at him and he shuffles over to partially hide behind the still stern-looking Paz.

“She’s going to be nice to my son,” Dulsissia says, her voice sweet and her eyes not, “because he has a mother who will have words with everyone who isn’t nice to him.”

Raga shifts her scowl over to Dulsissia, scans her, scowls harder, but when Dulsissia doesn’t give her an inch, she sighs and her little body relaxes. “Fiiiiine.”

And while all of this is happening, little Din silently watches Corin from his hiding place and Corin curiously looks back at him from his.

“I told them to behave.” Davarax grouses as he’s bringing her to where she can find food for herself and Corin.

Laughing, Dulsissia glances down at where her son is walking next to her, holding on to her hand and looking around with curiosity, not fear. “I think it went well.”

“No, you don’t understand.” Davarax sighs and there is actual sadness to the sound. “The others call them lost causes. Troublemakers. I know they are difficult, that their manners aren’t like Corin’s, but.. They are good kids. They really are. I wanted you to see that.”

Dulsissia reaches out and places her hand on his upper arm where there is no armor. And she speaks the truth. “I did see that.”

Davarax comes to an abrupt halt, she does the same, and despite the t-visor she can feel the look of surprise on his face.

“You… did?” There is a fragile hope in his voice that doesn’t match his rough exterior.

Dulsissia nods and smiles. “It’s like you said, Paz watches over the others like they were ‘his’ children. He did not hesitate to protect Barthor from Raga. Barthor, who would not let Raga lie and trick my son. Raga, who didn’t care that my son was an outsider and just saw him as someone to play with. And sweet little Din who despite his fear wanted so much to say hello. I think he and Corin will get along so well. And…” She hesitates, looks down at her son but finds him distracted by staring at something down the hallway and has no excuse not to say what else she saw. Dulsissia looks back up at Davarax, who is waiting for her to finish. “And I saw just how much those children love you.”

Davarax stares at her.

“You are the world, the entire Galaxy to them.” Dulsissia says, remembering the look of pure adoration and love in their eyes as he mildly chastised them for acting like tree monkeys in front of their visitors. She doubts he understands how important his role is to these children. How their happiness hangs on his words. How they will do anything for his approval. “My parents ruled our house with an iron fist. But these children? They don’t obey you because they have to or because they fear you. They do it because they love you. Because you see them.”

He shivers and the only reason she knows is because her hand is still on his arm.

“Dulcy, I…” Davarax reaches up and covers her hand with his.

“I know bad men, Davarax. I know monsters pretending to be men. But you?” Dulsissia looks over at how his hand is holding on to hers, so gently despite the strength she knows he must be capable of. “You are a good man. You are the kind of man I wish Corin had for a father.”

Davarax takes a step closer, is suddenly very close and the muscles in his arm tighten under her palm. “Is he the one you are running from?”

Dulsissia tenses up and looks down at her son. Corin is still caught up in whatever he’s staring at.

“You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to.” Davarax says ever so softly. “I just want to help you.”

“I know.” Dulsissia whispers. She doesn’t want to say Macero’s name. It’s stupid, but she fears if she does; it might summon him. “That is what makes you a good man.”

A light touch to her chin and Davarax’ other hand lifts her face to look up at him and there is a slight smile in his voice when he speaks. “I’m not ‘that’ good.”

Dulsissia giggles. She hasn’t giggled in years. And her face flushes.

“I’m hungry.” Corin declares.

Davarax jumps back a step and Dulsissia jumps in place and they both look down at the little boy like guilty teenagers.

“I-I’m sorry, baby. We’ll get you something to eat now.” Dulsissia stammers, her face heating up even more.

“Food. Yes. This way.” Davarax clears his throat and gestures for them to follow him.

They enter the room where food is stored, Davarax shows them where the fires are so she can cook if she feels like it and basically where all the other necessities of the Covert are.

By the time the tour comes to an end by the door to their room, Corin is exhausted and Dulsissia knows she won’t struggle finding sleep either. Still, she’s almost a little reluctant to part ways with Davarax when he pauses outside their door.

“Will I see you tomorrow?” She asks.

“I was hoping that you might want to bring Corin by training.” Davarax says. “He can observe for a while. Maybe try some exercises. Training is the best way for the children to burn off their energy and learn skills as the city above is not safe for them.”

Dulsissia nods. “I will bring him.” She hesitates, knowing he must be tired of hearing her say it but still has to; “Thank you.”

Davarax shakes his head, reaches out and gingerly tucks a golden lock behind her ear. “No thanks required.” He backs up a step, nods and spins around to march over to his door. He keeps pressing the button to his room so the door opens and shuts twice before he can actually get inside.

Late at night, curled up on her side in her bed, looking over at the barely visible silhouette of her son’s back in the other bed, Dulsissia knows she made the best decision ever by coming here.

#the mandalorian his son and the storm trooper #Dulsissia Motti #Davarax #Baby Corin #Fearsome Four #Mandorin AU

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