rating: g (word count 762)
https://archiveofourown.org/works/40832574
When the Mandalorian shows up in front of Cara's glossy new officer's desk, asking her to help him spring one Migs Mayfeld, traitor to democracy and accessory to murder, the first thing she thinks is: this man is not the same person who fought by my side on Sorgan. There’s something wrong with the rigid way he moves, with the tightness in his voice when he speaks.
“These stripes mean something,” she says, indicating the badge on her chest.
It’s a no, but not a hard one. More of a please don’t ask me that. She doesn’t want to choose between Mando and her last chance of going straight. (She doesn’t know if she has the strength to choose going straight.)
“They have the kid.”
Cara’s eyes narrow. Oh no, they don’t.
The whole way to Morak, Cara watches the Mandalorian out of the corner of her eye.
There used to be a tenderness to him, an awkward softness that poked out between the cracks of his armor. She saw it first on Sorgan, in the way he watched his son play with the children in the krill ponds. Heard it in the thank you's he clumsily handed the young widow like he wasn’t sure what to do with them.
It's gone now.
There’s an aura of deadliness concentrated around him that wasn’t there before. It’s like he’s a blaster aimed to kill and he’s only waiting for the right moment to pull the trigger. His voice is a gaping void. Sure, Mando has always been quiet, but now… it’s like he’s catatonic. Like he only exists when he needs to for the mission.
Cara has never feared him. Not even on that fateful day on Sorgan when she looked up from her spotchka, saw a real live Mandalorian hunter, and thought for the first time in her life, I might be meeting my match. She tends to be more practical than terrified in those kinds of situations, but—
Not gonna lie, the rigid figure sitting across from her makes her a little uneasy. It’s a good thing they’re on the same side.
The old Mando called a truce and offered her soup. She’s not so sure this one would do the same.
Cara can’t believe he agreed to replace his beskar with stormtrooper armor. She can’t believe he suggested replacing his beskar with stormtrooper armor.
It’s kind of dumb, but all she can think is where did your face go? She knows, rationally, that the black T-visor and beskar zygomatic curves aren’t his real face, that helmets are removable and there’s got to be a head somewhere in there. But still. Where is his face.
“I’d say it looks good on you, but I’d be lying,” she says.
The Mandalorian looks at her.
Cara’s always been able to read the crease of a brow and the twitching of lips through a helmet’s tilt. She knows this man as well as she knows her own blaster. Knows the way he fights and the way he stands still, knows what he’s saying when he doesn’t say anything at all. They’ve had entire conversations without speaking a single word. But now—
Now, for the the first time since the day they met, she locks eyes with the Mandalorian and has no idea what’s going on inside his head.
(It’s the lack of doubt. It’s the way he faces her, head-on, like a challenge.)
It shouldn’t feel so jarring. It’s not like he’s done anything yet that Cara wouldn’t do if their places were swapped; the kid is everything to him, so there’s no justification for the strange, premonitory loneliness she feels welling up in her bones. It’s just a helmet.
(It has never been just a helmet.)
Cara will go to the other end of the galaxy and farther if her Mandalorian needs her to. It’s a silent promise she made a long time ago, sometime after a bag of credits and a second chance plunked onto the dirt by her feet. She owes everything she is now to this man, who met an outlaw and saw a former Rebel shocktrooper, who without saying a single word reminded her what it was to have a heart and a code and a people to protect. She’ll hold herself to her vow as long as she’s able, but something tells her the Mandalorian is headed somewhere she can’t follow.
These stripes on my chest mean something, she thinks. That beskar meant something. You were the one who taught me that.
I wonder if you remember.
this reminds me of chapter 8 when it’s revealed that all the mandalorians in din’s covert were forced to take off their helmets after saving din. the armorer, who in the show represents the ultimate moral authority on the creed, appears to approve of their decision because they were prioritizing one aspect of the creed over another (i.e. helping fellow mandalorians > keeping the helmet on). she considers it a tragedy but not a sin. this is evidenced by the fact that she says “we were forced to reveal ourselves” rather than morally separating herself from the others by using they/themselves.
I keep seeing people say that Din broke his Creed in Chapter 15 but I think that is a misread of the scene and the show overall. I think what happened was that Din re-ordered the collection of tenets his follows so that the child’s safety supersedes all else.
The two most important parts of the Creed (as represented in the show) are wearing armour and protecting foundlings. In Chapter 3, Din is faced with a moral problem - does he protect this foundling or reclaim his peoples’ armour? His chooses the latter, and then goes back on that decision to rescue the child. That episode is titled The Sin for this exact reason - he made the incorrect moral decision, but he was no less of a Mandalorian for it.
In Chapter 15, he is then presented with the exact same problem, but this time he chooses the child over the armour. This is why that episode is titled The Believer - Din is in the process of reorganising his religious priorities, not abandoning them. Just as he was a Mandalorian when he decided to forsake the child, so too does he remain a Mandalorian when protecting him.
rating: g (word count 431)
https://archiveofourown.org/works/31179644
Mayfeld honestly doesn’t believe the guy’ll take off his Mando armor until he’s right there with a kriffing stormtrooper helmet screwed onto his shoulders.
The guy makes himself out to be some sorta moral big shot, y’know? All that this is the Way and you start to think a guy’s serious. Not, like, a strong possibility, but it’s a maybe. It’s out there. ’Cause most people in Mayfeld’s line of work are all talk and nothing to show for it, but then here comes this guy who’s no talk and a hundred percent wicked fighting machine, who can take out four New Republic security droids all by himself without breaking a sweat. Mando’s on a level of his own. Makes Mayfeld think, maybe somebody like that doesn’t have to make concessions.
’Cause the rest of them make concessions all the time. Mayfeld sure does. He’s got a backpack full of excuses and it never runs out.
But if anyone could do it, make it through the mercenary business without stretching their conscience, it’s Mando. Mayfeld didn’t expect to find himself still breathing after he felt a presence approaching him in the prison transport hallway, much less locked up with a still-very-alive Xi’an and Burg. He would’ve pulled the trigger in a heartbeat if their shoes had been swapped. But Mando didn’t.
From a practical standpoint, their lives probably weren’t worth the idealism. Not that Mayfeld wants to be dead, but once Burg and Xi’an get out of prison they’ll track Mando down and kill him. They’ll have to be taken out of the equation sooner or later.
Everybody starts out like Mando, convinced that you’re gonna be the good one when everyone else has failed. Eventually you reach a point when you’ve got to choose between being good and being dead. But a tiny part of Mayfeld has started to think the old buckethead is invincible, started to think that maybe idealism doesn’t have consequences if you’re a Mandalorian. There’s not much that could hurt or even slow down a guy like that.
Maybe it’s naive, but Mayfeld owes his life to Mando’s code. Can’t blame him for starting to believe in the man a little.
But no. Turns out Mandalorians have their weak spots just like the rest of ’em, and this one’s is a little green kid with big ears.
When Mando turns his brand-new stormtrooper face to look at Mayfeld, there’s a clear You happy now? written all over it.
Nah. Think what you want about Mayfeld, he’s not that cold. Doesn’t make him happy to be right.