Chapter Text
Getting everyone back to the Falcon had been a disaster and a half, but they made it. The crew quarters became an emergency medical station. Din strongly disagreed that he needed whatever patchwork medical intervention could be offered, but the majority wasn’t in his favor. Mayfeld and Chewbecca took command and flew them home.
They landed back at Yavin 4 to impressive fanfare. Din had never made a habit of sticking around for the applause and the slaps to the back, and Paz knew that. As soon as he could, he made his escape, slipping through the crowd until he found his way back to the Razor Crest.
“ Buir !” Adika cried, almost wiggling out of Paz’s arms, squealing and squeaking as his attempt proved most fruitless. He was quickly rewarded for his efforts by nearly being crushed into a double hug, as his parents kissed over him.
“Ahh, ulyc ,” Din groaned, his breath hitching in his chest as Paz clung tightly to the both of them. Refusing to elaborate, he used Paz’s brief confusion to steal Adika all to himself.
Between getting the kid down to sleep, catching up on their adventure with the Skywakers, changing out of his armor, and finally settling in with a nice stiff drink, Din had finally found the right words. Paz had briefly fussed over the visual injuries, but the rest he played close to the vest. He was fine .
With Adika fast asleep in his hammock, there simply wasn’t room to maneuver the both of themselves into the bunk. So they sprawled out on the floor with spare blankets, enjoying each other's company and glad to have survived another day. Din finally found his resolve at the bottom of the glass and finally spoke, “The Armorer is dead.”
“Well, I figured that. I just assumed everyone we knew was probably dead by now,” Paz said, leaning down to refill his glass.
“No, I mean I killed her. I had to. She was working for the First Order,” Din said, swirling his drink as he stared down at it. “She saw me without my helmet, for a face scan, and meant to kill me for it. She wouldn’t have stopped until we were all dead.”
Paz had stalled behind him, clearly processing the information. He was keeping his emotions regulated, as he took a deep sip straight from the bottle. It wasn’t like they’d never killed before. It was just a lot to take in, quite suddenly. He hadn’t a clue that this news could take another turn, but it could. Din took a sip from his glass, set it aside, and reached into his boot. He had put the strange energy sword down there to keep Adika from playing with it.
“She also had this,” Din continued, when Paz didn’t speak. Which was unlike him. It really was a lot to process. He flipped the hilt of the strange energy blade between his fingers before passing it over his shoulder for inspection.
“The Darksaber,” Paz said, accepting in dumbstruck bewilderment. “You have the Darksaber? Which means she had the Darksaber. Which means ... Do you ... You know what this means, right?”
“Is that what it's called?” Din said, taking another sip, not exactly listening. “I suppose that makes sense.”
Paz reached over to gently turn his head, and catch his attention, “You know what this means, right?”
“That we’re the only ones left of our old covert?” Din asked, dragging his head free and turning to give Paz a proper look. Paz was still holding the Darksaber, delicately balanced in his fingers, shock and awe dawning on his face. Which only made Din’s eyebrows furrow in confusion. “What?”
“What is this? What does it mean?” Paz asked, just ever so slightly beginning to worry about his partner. They weren’t quite two years apart in age, but their upbringings might well have had them separated by decades. Born on Concordia, a member of the House of Vizsla, he had grown up with the legends. Din had not. After the fall of Mandalore, not so long after he’d joined their ranks, survival had been more important than education.
“I don’t know,” Din said, quickly becoming annoyed. They’d been having such a lovely time, and he’d had to go and ruin it.
“This is the Darksaber. It was constructed and wielded by the first Mandalorian Jedi, Tarre Vizsla. With it, he and my ancestors ruled Mandalore .... and we can finish this later. General Organa. ” Paz said, cutting himself off as Leia invited herself up the ramp and inside. They’d been enjoying the breeze.
“You know, we have family units set up and ready to go,” Leia said, smiling automatically at the warrior pair. She could tell she’d interrupted something tense, but there were far more pressing matters.
“We’ll be fine here for the night. We just got Adika down,” Din decided. Which brought him attention he clearly had hoped to avoid, by staying in one place, away from prying eyes.
“You need medical attention. I just got the full report from Migs Mayfeld. That burn alone is going to need immediate attention. I also understand that your arm was broken. We have-” She began to offer.
“I’m fine,” Din continued to insist.
“No you are not,” She had known Luke and Han for an extraordinary amount of time, and they were stubborn bastards in their own rights. She figured herself an expert in communicating with one, and convincing him to seek help when it was needed the most. “You need help. This isn’t up for debate. I’m not taking no for an answer, if I have to drag you to the bacta tanks myself. I’d imagine that Paz will help me when he gets the full report. You’ve done admirably, thank you. Now let us help you.”
Months had come and passed, and the argument remained the same, “The story of the Darksaber is just as important as the ...”
“Darksaber itself, yes I know. We keep having this discussion, and I’m tired of it,” Din sighed, as they crossed the tarmac. He was walking just ahead of Paz, trying to keep an eye on the energetic toddler racing through the crowd. Ad’ika and the astromech he was straddling had just stopped, about 30 yards ahead, waiting for an X-Wing to cross.
So he spun around and pulled the long black handle from his belt and tossed it at Paz. Who caught it effortlessly as he continued to speak. “With Finn as our only witness, he’s willing to back whichever story we chose. So, as I’ve said before, if you want it so badly, you can have it. The Darksaber belongs in the House of Vizsla.”
“When I said that-” Paz started, after halting in his steps for a moment.
“What about me?” Finn asked, catching Din’s attention as he spun back around and resumed the trek. Just in time to watch Adika and BB-8 race between a gap in a small parade of X-Wings.
“Hey! Slow down!” Din and Paz yelled at the same time, but it fell on deaf ears. If Din truly was upset with his riduur , he didn’t show it as he slowed up just long enough to link arms with the taller, slightly older man before addressing the younger hero.
“We were just wondering if you and your pilot friend would be stopping by for tonight’s Interest Meeting?” Din asked, happy to switch topics. To his side, he felt Paz clipping the Darksaber to his belt. Whether he was just putting the topic to bed, for now, or seriously considering Din’s standing offer it was difficult to ascertain. He didn’t see why this was a topic that they had to beat to death.
As the galaxy began the arduous process of rebuilding itself again, word came much slower than it used to. But one painful truth continued to present itself and it was thus. Whatever had become of the once mighty and populous Mandalorians, had happened. There was no reversing the past, only shaping the future. Which Paz and Dinn took upon themselves, together. Tonight, a meeting had been scheduled to discuss the possibility of what could be done, among those so interested, in restoring and rebuilding the Creed and everything it was supposed to stand for.
“Poe’s just a friend,” Finn said too quickly, before clearing his throat and deciding to start over. “I’ll see if he’s available. You can definitely count me in. What about Rey?”
“She’s insisted on some private lessons with the Jedi master,” Paz said, having asked the former Scavenger personally, when he’d last run into her. “How are those lessons going anyway? For some reason, Skywalker almost seems to be afraid of us and won’t share much.”
In a repurposed former space of storage, Luke Skywalker was attempting once again to restart a school towards the proper education of beings with Force sensitive abilities. The classes were small, but news was spreading through the galaxy. There were new students arriving almost weekly, with more due in time.
“Good morning,” General Ortega said, all but appearing out of thin air as she slipped out of a private passage and passed her twin brother a piping hot mug of unidentified liquid. “How are you?”
“I’m doing just fine. And you? How’s Han?” Luke asked, after inspecting the mug and taking a testing sip. He’d always been far more partial to hot cocoa, over hot coffee, and was pleased that his sister remembered. “Thank you.”
“Of course. I’m just taking it one day at a time. Rebuilding a government takes time and entirely too much patience. And fortitude. Can’t give them the gap that the First Order embedded themselves into. We have to get this right, this time,” Leia had brought her own drink, which she took a conversation break with by sipping from. “Han’s doing great. You ever need a hand wrangling the little ones, he’s dying to get out of the house.”
“That would be nice, actually. Have him bring Chewie. We’ll make a thing of it,” Luke said, and took another sip. Once his class was in order, he wasn’t sure if he’d be able to finish it.
“I’ll send him over after lunch, how about that?” Leia said, turning to go, before she paused and faced him once more. “Thanks for staying.”
“It’s not like I had much of a choice,” Luke said in a low voice, before casting a glance over his shoulder at one of the few family units dropping off a student. It would probably be quite a while, if ever, that he ever felt comfortable thanking the Mandalorians for forcing themselves and their son into his life, shaking off the dust and giving him the chance to start anew.
There would eventually be a day when Adika didn’t demand his parents constant attention. He was already making leaps and bounds in his development. Neither of them were happily anticipating that day.
As had become tradition, at least when class was in session, the three of them would find a quiet corner. Quick at making friends, the energetic toddler was bouncing in their linked arms, humming to himself and looking over at his latest playmates. But he was the one who had insisted on this, so it had to be done.
He wanted to be held by both of them. High enough so that he could reach up and touch both of their faces, as if he still needed to commit them to memory. Or, more likely, urging them to both still be there to pick him up when school let out. After patting both of their faces, before wriggling to freedom, he declared, “Love you!”
“We love you too,” Paz said and tried again to kiss the toddler. Who had finished his ritual and now wanted nothing to do with either of them. With a sigh, like he had all the world's problems on his shoulders, Adika finally dropped to the floor and took off like a shot towards his friends.
“Hey! Play nice. No force choking,” Din remembered before sighing, closing his eyes and leaning against Paz. They both had very busy days ahead of them as well, but they could have this. Just this.