Work Text:
The little one runs to Luke’s feet and pats his calf urgently, then runs back to Din Djarin and pats a heavily armoured ankle in turn. He keeps doing this until Luke scoops him up and presents him carefully to his father.
‘Yes, we’ve met,’ Luke says gently, in response to the baby’s unspoken question. ‘Yes, I remember.’
Din, who is silently but very obviously crying underneath his helmet, cuddles the child close. Grogu nestles against his chest, cooing. The Jedi’s smile is lamplight-soft, which is why he somehow doesn’t seem like an intruder.
But Din eventually has to set the kid down, because Grogu wants to introduce his New Republic friends. Some of these friends are Jedi too, apparently. Some are not. Grogu’s Jedi—Luke—puts the hood of his cloak back on, and his face vanishes into shadow.
‘He’s not learned to talk yet,’ the Jedi tells Din, a soft aside, as Grogu brings a small platoon of babbling children to Din’s feet. ‘But soon that will change. And then you, too, will know what he’s thinking.’
‘Will you tell me when he says his first words?’ Din’s voice cracks halfway through the question, but he keeps going.
‘Of course,’ Luke says, and means it. He strokes the little one’s long, delicate ear. ‘He thinks of you often, as do I.’
Din Djarin is technically not supposed to know the location of the Jedi temple. Technically, only those within the Order should be able to find Luke’s Jedi academy. But Din doesn’t even seem to know what the Jedi Order is, and Luke—well, Luke has always wanted to help.
He senses that the younglings are safe with Din and so Din is safe with the Jedi. Din is welcomed and protected. Grogu sits happy and secure in a large pouch under Din’s cape, having been smoothly transferred from Luke’s hip to Din’s when Din arrived at the temple.
He leads Din to a modest set of rooms, where Din can remove his helmet to eat in privacy. Before food and sleep and comfort, however, there are several introductions to get through. Din—who is very tired but eternally patient—keeps bumping into more and more strangers on the way to supper, because Grogu tells everyone he communicates with about his father. During this parade of younglings, Din stands quite still, polite-like, with his hands crossed at his waist. So does Luke. After a moment, the baby crosses his hands too.
At last Din appears to relax completely and Luke turns away. ‘I’ll be back for him,’ he tells Din, his voice warm, ‘but first I must attend to my other Padawans.’
‘Oh,’ Din says respectfully. ‘Is that… a Force thing?’
‘It’s called the Darksaber,’ Din explains with a long-suffering sigh. He has both hands resting on his knees, spear propped against his back as they both watch the Padawans practise. ‘Whoever wields it has the right to rule Mandalore. I have to carry it around until I figure out a way to let Bo-Katan defeat me in combat.’
Luke thinks this over. ‘What if I fought you and won,’ he suggests, ‘and then I fought Bo-Katan and lost?’
Din scratches his helmet. ‘Why would you fight Bo-Katan?’
‘I don’t know,’ says Luke tranquilly. He’s never met the woman. ‘If you asked me to, I would.’
There’s a long silence. Luke studies the man in the beskar armour, his tremulous courage and strength, his simple wants, his good heart.
Then Din changes the subject. ‘Actually, I was counting on a fight breaking out next time Bo-Katan and Boba Fett are in a room together.’
‘Bo-Katan and who?’
Luke calls via hologram and says, ‘I’m thinking of growing a beard.’
Din barely looks up from cleaning his beskar spear. ‘Don’t.’
‘Why ever not?’ Luke leans closer to the holoprojector so Din can get a better view of his face. ‘I think it’d add dramatic effect when I throw back my hood.’
‘You’re dramatic enough.’ Din sets the spear aside and puts his hands on his hips. He moves with his whole body, taut and graceful as an iron bow, his head tilting from side to side as the helmet blocks his peripheral vision. He doesn’t look at Luke as he says, ‘You look okay without a beard.’
‘Fine.’ Pleasantries over, Luke gets straight to the point. ‘Grogu misses you, so I’m thinking of taking a little trip. What do you say to Tatooine? Two weeks from now?’
Din’s nodding, nodding eagerly, already nodding before Luke finishes his first sentence. Nevertheless: ‘I thought you would be busy with your… Jedi stuff.’
‘I found time in my busy schedule to come get Grogu from you,’ Luke tells him, gentle. ‘I can find the time to bring him back.’
Din’s voice is unsteady. ‘A nice lady once told me that Jedi can’t have attachments.’
‘I don’t really care for the Jedi,’ Luke says blithely, throwing Din into deep confusion. ‘Look—I phrased that poorly. For a long time, I thought I was the last of my kind. Learning the ways of the Jedi has been a challenge. Our history, our lore. It’s all wrapped in myth and mist. Surely you understand.’
‘I do.’
‘There were others, in the past, who did things differently. But I’m me.’
‘I can see that,’ Din says. He sounds like he’s smiling.
Luke frowns at him. ‘You’re imagining me with a beard.’
‘Maybe,’ Din admits, the smile still audible in his tone. For the first time, he offers up a fact about himself: ‘I have a moustache.’
‘Oh.’ His heart suddenly beating faster, Luke adds this to his small but growing mental album of trivia about Din Djarin. Then he touches his upper lip. ‘Do you think I could—’
‘Nope.’
Luke gives him an annoyed look, and he can feel Din looking back. Din’s gaze burns through the helmet, through the hologram, across the stars and the endless night of space. The distance between them, while vast, seems hardly an obstacle.
‘For me, it doesn’t matter what I look like,’ Din says; his tone is calm, matter-of-fact. Simple. ‘No one sees my face. Usually. I’m no Han Solo.’
Luke brightens. ‘You know Han?’
‘I’ve heard of him,’ says Din grimly. ‘The Millennium Falcon was the talk of bounty hunters throughout the Guild. Everyone has heard of Han Solo. He made the Kessel Run in less than—hey, don’t roll your eyes at me.’
‘Don’t you roll your eyes at me,’ Luke replies irritably.
‘How do you know I’m—never mind.’ Din sighs. ‘Anyway, I need your name for paperwork. Your full name. I’ve put you down as Grogu’s temporary guardian.’
‘Temporary, of course.’ Luke blinks. ‘It’s Luke.’ Everyone has heard of Han Solo. ‘Luke Skywalker,’ he adds, when Din looks at him expectantly.
‘Okay.’ Din is writing this down on a very small notepad. ‘How do you spell that?’
On Tatooine, Din takes out a small metal ball which has been hanging on the handlebars of his speeder bike and offers it to Grogu. The child Force-pulls it to himself and Din laughs, a quiet, shocking sound.
Later, Luke sits on the sand dunes and waits for the twin suns to set. His back is to Grogu and Din; he doesn’t sneak a glance at them as they finish their supper. By the time Din puts the helmet back on, Grogu is already asleep.
He feels Din before he hears him. Din’s footsteps are silent on the sands of Tatooine. Din sits down beside Luke, cradling his sleeping child in the crook of his arm.
‘I heard about what you did,’ Din says. Quiet but talkative, this man—Luke enjoys his voice. ‘You saved the galaxy. I can do nothing for you in return.’ He breaks off, looks down at his child, looks up at Luke. ‘You didn’t have to do this for me. Why are you being so kind? Because of Grogu?’
‘For Grogu’s sake, yes,’ Luke says. ‘But also because of you.’
Kindness without the expectation of reward seems to be a rarity in Din’s galaxy. Din says, very low: ‘For me?’
Luke nods.
Din looks at his feet. ‘My ship is gone. My covert is gone. My son is already with you. Why?’
Luke puts a hand, firm, on Din’s shoulder. ‘You’re more than a collection of those parts, my friend.’
Birdlike, Din looks at him head-on. Luke finds his hand moving without conscious intent, and then he’s cupping the side of Din’s helmet. Din rests his cheek on Luke’s palm.
With a kind of heartbreaking earnestness, Luke says: ‘I’ve never met anyone like you.’
Din takes a long time to process this. The response—when it comes—is clumsy, stilted, but sincere. ‘Nor I you.’
Din shifts closer to him, cape brushing against Luke’s boots. After a second’s hesitation, Luke puts his metal hand in Din’s. They stand side by side, and watch the two suns setting together.