Chapter Text
She
was
dying
And then she was not.
Already, the details from before were fading, something warm sweeping them away, like a mother's hand brushing off dirt from muddy cheeks.
Marigold wasn't the type to get muddy, but she'd been the type to run through open fields, pursuing butterflies, chasing down bunnies because her mother said if she caught it, she could keep it. Catching fireflies, at dusk, running around the horse’s pasture, looking for the blue ones, the green ones. Howling at the moon in hopes that someday a wolf would call back, only finding coyotes in the dark forest behind her house. Black shirts, long sleeves, black pants, black shoes, and a hood to cover her face because damn it if she wasn't winning at hide and seek this time! Giggles she couldn't quite muffle, because her uncle had come inches from stepping on her, unable to see her lying out in the open on the ground, that'd finally gotten her caught. Barefoot around a fire, hot embers, her grandmother telling her to “put some shoes on, Mari, you’re going to burn your little tootsies.” Somehow, remembering her childhood was so much easier than remembering anything recent.
She remembered too, suddenly, the day she'd realized that she could die. There was no great realization. No inciting incident. Maybe it was her first panic attack, feeling like she was going to die.
"What happens after you die?" She'd asked her Dad. She hadn't been any older than six. He'd sighed, if her memories served, and dropped on the bed to join her. Mari... had been napping in their bed. Their bed, but mostly Mom's and hers, because Dad was in California, most of the time. A nightmare, giants who took Bella, and Mom, and Grandma, who ate them, and Mari was too little to stop them until she'd woken up and they'd vanished into nothing more than a vague memory. She'd crawled close, and he'd hugged her tight. He was so big, so strong, and Mari had felt so much better already, just being held by him. He always made her feel better, until Mari got older, and she couldn't stand being held anymore. Being touched anymore.
"If you're a good person, you go up to heaven. It's where the rest of your family are, Mari. Your Papa's sister, and Bella, too. It's a good place. No one ever hurts, no one's sad, everyone's always happy."
That was good, Mari had thought, way back then. The last thing she remembered from Bella was that day Mari's parents had been shouting for her until Mari finally went outside and explained that the dog was already in the house, why were they still calling her? The way her Dad had picked the german shepherd up, carrying her into the car, and her mom's run to the car seat.
Bella hadn't come back home, after her mom and dad took her to the vet.
Someone had left the gate open.
Mari had always thought that someone might have been her.
"What about the bad people?" She'd asked, because even then, part of her felt the same as she did now. Maybe Mari wasn't a good enough person, because she couldn't remember if she'd left the gate open. Because one day the box of fireflies she'd collected the day before was then full of dead ones, because she’d she'd forgotten to open the lid, and sometimes she hurt the wing of a butterfly while she was catching them, and that meant they couldn't fly again, and she didn't mean to, she didn't!
Did God care, if it was an accident?
She couldn't remember what he'd said anymore, not exactly. But the jist of it had been: Somewhere else. He’d hugged her, and promised she’d never have to worry about that, because God knew she was a good girl. Even if she hadn’t cleaned her room yet.
Mari was pretty sure that she must be somewhere else.
Only a strangely warm, steady feeling, a current washing all that terror away that kept trying to bubble up stopped Mari from turning around and running.
She was small. Too small. Someone was holding her hand, far, far too tight. Trying to pull her hand free only led to them squeezing harder, something popping in her knuckles, and a spark of pain that made her gasp.
"Stay quiet!" Someone snapped, their voice loud and sharp.
Mari wasn't in heaven.
"Control the kid. Don't let her start crying."
She wasn't a kid- she remembered that much. She'd been an adult! She had a job! She'd done taxes, even!
Right now, Mari felt small, and young, and her- not hers, that wasn't hers- The Mother's hand was running over her brain, like feathers over her skin, warm and gentle, keeping her calm and not-panicked while she was led through a barracks, dirty, old, and rundown, until she was handed over to an irritable man who really, really didn't want to be dealing with her, and led away.
Mari listened, because she was a good kid- as much as she could be. They walked through the halls quickly, passing by strange humans and non-humans alike. Some were well dressed. Most not.
Many collared. Mari didn’t think about that. Mari couldn’t think about that right now.
There were cat people, and Mari was in physical pain as she was forcibly walked past the moment she slowed, unable to stop and beg for a chance to pet their fluffy ears. She was led to three other children, dirty, thin, blank-faced and dull-eyed. None of them greeted her, and she didn't dare offer one of her own.
Something trilled in her ears, a sound like a cat, if a cat could sing directly to her soul. It made Mari feel warm, like she was doing right, so she stepped in and found a spot on the floor. The door locked behind her.
Here, she was supposed to stay. She knew it, because the trilling song was so pleased, so happy with what she was doing, how good Mari was being. It washed away any fear that tried to seep in. The warmth stayed, even as the song faded, the Mother's attention shifting elsewhere. That was alright, because Mari was good, even when the Mother was not watching. She'd stay still.
So still.
So… still.
Ugh.
Sitting there for three hours was only possible because Mari was, after three hours of consideration, not a kid, even if she very, very much felt like it.
Mari could remember no details of her life as an adult right now, only really remembering vague feelings and impressions. Still, she could easily multiply, divide, and do other things that she figured only adults could really do. Mari did used to be an adult!
Three hours drifted into four, then five, with no real changes. Eventually, the same man came back, and started piling blankets, quickly taken by the other children. Mari waited for a moment, expecting, perhaps, to be given one too, but the man left, and the other children started preparing for bed.
Mari, unlike the others, was wearing… a robe, almost? It was loose around her shoulders, loose along her back, tightening around her waist. Very flowy, very much like a dress, but it buttoned down the side until it hit a belt, a strip of fabric tied around her waist. No shoes. No socks. Her feet were… dirty. Oh dear. She didn’t like it when her feet were dirty, not anymore. She didn’t use to care, when she was littler. Her hair was long and- white? Her hair was fucking white? Her back ached lightly, feeling like a tight band was pressing into her chest. Almost like a too-tight bra, except right now she was quite lacking in that respect. Which was a definite bonus to being a very small person right now. Flat as a board, and how wonderful was that?
Not just like a band, actually. There was one, a thick cord pressing tightly into her skin. Trying to tug on it, get her fingers under it, did nothing but renew the bite. Her hands were trembling when she stopped, the Mother cooing softly in her ears. Her back went numb again a moment later, the pain washed away.
By the time she looked up, the other kids were asleep, and all the blankets were taken.
No blankets for little Marigold, it seemed. Oh well. It wasn't that cold in here. She'd probably be fine.
It hadn't been dark yet.
Ten (or so she guessed) hours into being dead, Mari was shivering violently, huddled up against what might be a toy box, except all the toys were pretend weapons and bombs, and pretty toy soldiers, and ugly toy robots, which bore a strange resemblance to…
To…
That show.
The one she liked.
Used to watch.
She'd liked those droids. The ones that… were enemies. Very cute. She took one, the most well-made, and shook it up and down, making the head bob up and down.
"Roger roger."
That was enough to make little Mari giggle, and probably would've been enough for adult Mari too. She was a simple girl.
Normally, very little children did not go with the first stranger to open the door. This was very strongly discouraged by all mothers. Except hers. The Mother perked up, another delighted trill, and Mari felt a push, an urge to move, that made her hold out her hand as the orange-armored man froze at the sight of her and moved to shut the door with a quick apology.
"Can I come out yet? I don't like it in here."
The soldier (he must be a soldier, for who else wore armor like his? He looked like a knight!), seemed to glance around, taking in the rather dismal environment. He eyed her up and down, still shivering in the cold, and seemed to make a snap decision.
"Yeah."
Yay.
Mari knew the Mother would not steer her wrong. For all that… she'd known the Mother for like half a day.
Mari followed the soldier out, keeping quiet as he knelt down next to her.
"Alright, ad'ika," The solder said, his voice hushed, "You've got to keep your voice down, alright?"
Ad'ika.
The sound of the word had startled her, but the feel of it was familiar.
There was a proper response here.
It was…
"Lek?" Mari said carefully, unsure of the pronunciation. She had a feeling she'd never heard this spoken aloud before.
"Gar shuk Mando'ade?" The soldier's voice was sharp, astonished. Maybe a little outraged. Hard to tell with the helmet on.
For a long moment, she stared at him.
"I only know that last word." Mari said, disapproving. What was this, a quiz?
He laughed, soft and low, "Sorry, ad'ika. Where'd you learn to speak some Mando’a?"
"Reading."
"Oh? You like Mandalorians?" He asked lightly, like one would to a child. He kneeled a little lower, so she didn't have to look up so far. She nodded immediately.
"They're really cool. Almost as cool as the Jedi."
The soldier made a noise, almost offended, but his voice was light, teasing. "Ad'ika! Such betrayal! Right in front of a Mandalorian too!"
She blinked at him. "Mandalorians aren't real."
"You're talking to one.” He seemed to be thoroughly entertained by this, and Mari was none too pleased. She narrowed her eyes at him.
"You're lying." She accused, glaring through his visor. "Next, you're gonna tell me the Jedi are real too." Did he think she was an absolute idiot?
He seemed pained, somehow, the levity fading from his shoulders as they sunk. "Didn't know we were that far on the Outer Rim."
"Where's the Outer Rim? Is that where we are?"
"Do you know where we are, ad'ika?"
She wished she knew the word for no too. Speaking Mando'a aloud was pretty cool. Instead, Mari shook her head. "I don't remember."
"Where were you before?"
"Um… I live in Oregon. Off of Meadow Road." She thought for a moment, the little song, the memory that her parents had trained into her to ensure she always remembered the home-phone number coming back easily. "2385 Meadow Road. 592-9319."
He stared at her for a good ten seconds before responding. "I don't have a clue where that is. What planet were you on?"
She blinked at him. "Earth."
"What's your word for it, kid? Your language- what your parents call it. There's thousands of planets whose names mean the word 'earth' or 'dirt'. Gotta know your word for it if I'm gonna take you back there." He explained patiently. Still, she could tell he was getting nervous. This was taking a little too long.
"We can walk and talk." She said instead of answering, offering her hand to him. "Don't let me slow you down."
How someone with a helmet covering their whole face could express confusion, she didn't know. But he managed it. Still, he took her little hand (Her size kinda bugged her. She shouldn't be so small. But, whenever she worried, the Mother just soothed her instead. She couldn't feel it for more than a moment or two.) and started walking, staying low.
"Maybe Terra?" She tried.
"That's just an older word for earth." He grumbled. "Use your language. Or at least the real name!"
"But that is the word for it. Planet Earth! In the Solar System! This is the only language I know!"
The man, the 'Mandalorian', made a disgusted noise somewhere in the back of his throat. "Damn Republic. Don't even teach their kids their own languages anymore." He muttered softly, probably intending for her to be unable to hear it. He shook it off and said more loudly, "Don't worry, kid. When I take you back, we'll find your home, alright?"
Mari nodded. "Thank you, Mr. Liar."
The soldier muffled his laughter with great difficulty, the little 'snrk' noise that escaped his mouth startlingly loud in the quiet hallway. "S- sure thing, ad'ika."
She tried not to giggle either, maintaining her composure almost challengingly, forcing a grin down. See? She could be mature! No giggling here!
The man led her down several hallways, keeping low and quiet. She walked quietly, placing her feet carefully, heel to toe, picking her feet up deliberately to avoid dragging her toes and causing noise. Without any armor, or, indeed, any shoes at all, she was a lot more quiet than he was, his feet clanking despite his best efforts and muttered curses in his language that she vaguely recognized.
Finally, after peeking in several rooms, they reached a room with several computer-thingies.
Not computers. She truly had no idea what they were. Mechanical, for sure, but not anything she recognized. He got to work quickly, doing something with them, and, uninterested (the Mother said nothing about them, so what did they matter?) Mari made the toy droid dance in her hands, holding it up by its arms and jiggling it around. If she had puppet strings, she could do it properly, but with just her hands…
Oh.
As if in answer, the Mother took up the toy, straightening it out, holding it in the air in front of Mari. It moved, as if real, glancing around back and forth, nodding its head as if emphasizing speech that she could not hear, then pointing. She giggled again, because this was awesome. By the time the Mandalorian was done, the toy had returned to her palm, the Mother seeming amused by the close call.
“You brought a little toy with you, ad’ika?” He asked, looking at the droid. She nodded once, and held it out.
“Roger roger!” She said with a grin. He… seemed to flinch a little, taken aback maybe? Mari wasn’t sure why.
“Y-yeah. That’s what they- they say.”
Ah. He must not have liked the droids when he watched the show. That was fair; everyone knew the clones were the best.
“Is your buir here?” He asked instead of asking anything about the droids. She shrugged.
“I haven’t seen them.” Besides the Mother of course, but Mari could pull out her phone and call-
No.
Her Mom and Dad would have gone to heaven, not here. Mari wouldn’t be seeing them again.
Not for the
rest
of
time.
Mari would never, ever meet them again. The void would take her, the Nothing, and Mari's parents would never find her, because she'd never believed enough to follow them.
“When’s the last time you’ve seen them?”
Mari didn’t remember ever seeing them, not in this place, so she shrugged again. She felt shaky, her back flaring with pain. Her chest felt hot, her heart pounding, and all she could think was some iteration of nevernevernevernever-
All she could feel was that crushing weight, that memory of nothing at all. The memory of what it was like before she was born- a memory of nothing, never, blankness, never aware, never being, nothing mattered because there was nothing, and that primal terror of-
Someday she’d go back.
And nothing would ever matter again.
Just like before. Just like she’d never been, never existed, never had a single thought or action and it would be fine, because she’d never think again to fear it, and never know again to know that it was wrong, and it’d be like just before she was ever born-
A void. A void in the truest sense, the actual definition, nothingness.
Even the warmth of the Mother wasn’t helping Mari right now, so she took a breath, four seconds in, held it, then four seconds out.
Again.
And again.
The Mandalorian knelt down, bending his head down almost the height of his knee, just to look her in the eyes properly. As much as he could, with his helmet on. “Do you want to be here?”
“No!” Her voice shook, as much as she tried to hold herself steady.
Never, never, never, like she’d never been born.
Mari was dead. Mari had died.
And she hadn’t gone to heaven.
She hadn’t stopped either, she tried to remind herself. Her existence hadn’t ended. The Mother hummed, something soothing, something warm and full of life and-
Maybe a promise. Mari couldn’t hear it loudly enough to be sure. All she got was the feel of it, the feeling of reassurance, that everything was going to be okay, and full of it all, a deep love.
She was loved. Mari’s hands were shaking again, this time from something overwhelming.
The Mother loved her.
Ferociously.
Mari decided right then and there that she’d love the Mother back just as fiercely.
He straightened, seeming decisive, suddenly. “I’m going to take you back with me, ad’ika.”
Yes, the Mother seemed to whisper, Yes.
“Alright.”
And that was how Mari was kidnapped by Mandalorians within her first day of reincarnation.
Transmigration?
Isekai?
Who cared.