Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Boba woke up to the sound of quiet tinkling, a sound that brought up some strange nostalgia he couldn’t place. It wasn’t anything he could sleep through though, as loud as the Slave got during the night cycle, and as he sat up in the dark, he realized there were no sounds of engines under him, just heavy rain and that infernal tinkling.

Last he remembered he had been in the Slave I, but his memory had been getting spotty in the years after the sarlacc, so he wasn’t too surprised to be waking to something unfamiliar. 

But it wasn’t quite… unfamiliar. There was something about everything in the dark room that felt so blisteringly familiar but Boba couldn’t quite place it. He sat up slowly, and he realized that everything felt very, very wrong.

He was all wrongly proportioned, too short, to small. He couldn’t feel the dull ache of his skin as his scars pulled with the movement, he didn’t feel the creaking of his weathered bones. It was like he had been put back in time, before the sarlacc, before he grew old, before he even grew up.

And as the door to the room opened and he saw the face of his buir (and the actual face of his buir this time, not the face of another clone, not his own face), he realized that was exactly what happened.

“Bob’ika! I heard yelling! Are you okay?”

Boba did not remember yelling, but it didn’t seem like something too out of character for him to start yelling in his nightmares. The faint rustle of his short curls around his face and the fact that Jango did not start freaking out about a 40 year old man in his son’s bed meant that whatever Force sent Boba back in time had been merciful. Merciful enough to give him the simple opportunity to lie his way out of the mess and never tell anyone he was actually 40 year old Boba Fett with more trauma than a ten year old could ever comprehend, but he didn’t think he could do that. Not with his buir, at least. 

“Uh, no, not really,” Boba responded, not quite sure how to actually tell Jango about it all. 

The response drew Jango to the bed, his concern becoming that much more heightened, and Boba soon found himself wrapped in the strong embrace of his long dead father.

He cried. Thirty years worth of tears, he thought quietly in the back of his mind. It was clearly something Jango was not expecting nor prepared for.

“Boba! Hey, hey! Are you hurt?” He moved the covers off of Boba and quickly checked for any injuries. “I’m right here, ad’ika.”

Boba chuckled wetly, sobs still making their way out between words. “You are, buir. You are.” After a small pause and a bit of collection he realized Jango was still looking at him with concern. “And I’m not injured.”

“Was it a nightmare..?” Jango asked slowly, like he was realizing something was off. Maybe ten year olds didn’t talk like that.

“Not quite,” Boba responded with a messy smile, voice still wobbly and face still wet. “Would you believe me if I said that I am actually 40 year old Boba Fett and that I was sent back in time around 30 years and that yelling in my sleep is unfortunately fairly normal for me and that I know how to deal with it?”

Jango blinked. “Well, the fact that you somehow managed to sound weirdly adult is helping, but you’ve done a few too many elaborate pranks recently for me to believe you.”

Boba nodded. “Alright. What if I told you I knew of the chips put in the rest of the clones’ brains that have secret orders encoded in them that will overwrite their thoughts and force them to do things they’d never do, and that I watched as the Galaxy fell under an Empire after the chips in their brains forced them to kill all the Jedi?”

Jango’s face fell. “They what?”

Boba frowned. “I assumed you knew about that. You... never did?”

“No!” Jango’s face was filled with horror. “I knew of the Jedi thing but I didn’t… I didn’t know about the brain chips, why didn’t you know I didn’t know?”

Boba tilted his head slightly and sighed internally. Jango clearly believed him at that point, and so there was no use avoiding it. “You didn’t last long enough to tell me.”

“When do I die,” Jango asked simply. 

“When I’m ten, we were on Geonosis, I honestly can’t really remember how everything went beforehand, but you were beheaded by a Jedi in the middle of a battle and then…” Boba trailed off. He didn’t want wax on about his childhood trauma.

“Well that won’t happen this time,” Jango said with a nod, determined.

Boba nodded back with a smile. “Good. I wasn’t going to let it.”

The room fell into an embarrassingly uncomfortable silence. Boba was starting to regret starting everything by telling his buir that he was actually 40 years old, especially since both of them were now left to actually think about it. How was anyone supposed to deal with that? Boba certainly didn’t know. He just kicked his short legs off the side of the bed aimlessly. 

“Well it's 6 am,” Jango started awkwardly, looking at the door. “I’m assuming you wouldn’t be as opposed to being awake at this hour now as you would last night.”

Boba laughed. “No! Not really. I’ve recently been getting up at around 3 standard the last few days, but I assume I’ll probably have to sleep more considering I’m…”

“Ten?” Jango supplied, eyebrow raised. “This is weird. I don’t know if I can talk to you like this for much longer.”

It was weird, wasn’t it? Boba was still just ignoring the fact that his voice was several octaves higher whenever he spoke, and that his words didn’t fit his youth at all. “You can just pretend this never happened and go back to however you were talking before.”

Jango cringed. “That’s worse, Boba.”

“You’ll have to get used to it if you don’t want to tell everyone about all this,” Boba replied, hopping off the bed. 

Jango paused for a moment, and then a scheming smile appeared on his face. “Well if that’s the case, you’re going to have to get better at acting like a ten year old, ad’ika.”

Boba yelped in surprise quietly as Jango suddenly lifted him up into his arms. After a bit of movement, Boba found himself settled with his head resting on his buir’s shoulder. 

“You’re getting big regardless of all this,” Jango muttered. Boba laughed.

“I missed you,” Boba sighed as his laughs died down. He didn't really want to move from his place in Jango's arms. 

Jango kissed the top of his head. “I know. I don't mind if you try to reclaim the missing years.”

Boba let himself be put down and just stood, a bit baffled. Somehow it had never occurred to him how similar his backstory was to his buir's. Though Boba never had a Jaster to Find him, but Boba also didn't have Galidraan… Jango never spent a year digesting in a stomach, but Boba never had a second parent die. 

Your trauma isn't a competition, idiot, you're both fucked up, chided a voice in the back of Boba's mind. It sounded embarrassingly similar to Fennec's. 

Regardless, if Boba were in Jango's shoes, he'd be reflecting upon his own experience as an orphan and projecting it onto the situation at hand, except with more fatherly grace, because Boba had never been a parent. But Jango understood, as much as he could hope to, and that made Boba feel like crying again, which was annoying. 

“Are there any plans for today?” Boba asked slowly, trying to gauge where exactly he was in time. It was within at most a few months of Jango's death, considering he was ten, but the whole Geonosis thing was unplanned, so it was nearly impossible to figure out when that would happen before Kenobi showed up on their metaphorical doorstep.

Jango shrugged. “No plans to go to Geonosis anytime soon, if that's what you're worried about.”

“It wasn't ever anything planned. I'll let you know when I start recognizing the events that lead to it.”

Jango nodded. “Noted. You want anything to eat? I'm not giving you caf, because I don't want you fucking up my ten year old son’s body, but other than that,”

“I'm more of a tea guy anyways…” Boba replied absently. “I'll eat anything though.”

“Tea? Really? Are you sure we share a genetic sequence?” 

Boba laughed. He'd somehow forgotten his own father's terrible caf addiction. “Positive. If we didn't I wouldn't've had to hide my face from myself for a few decades.”

“Did you find a healthy coping mechanism after that?” Jango asked, almost threateningly. 

“Nah. Fell in a sarlacc pit and when I came out my face was scared to a nice, bearable point.”

“I must be rolling in my grave in your time,” Jango muttered, the sounds of preparing breakfast becoming a bit more forceful. 

“Absolutely,” Boba murmured back, probably not even loud enough for Jango to hear. Tea would’ve been nice. 

They returned to silence for a few more moments, Boba stewing in his thoughts, as he often did, and Jango continuing to make what was probably eggs. 

Jango suddenly made a sound of frustration and something crashed onto the floor, Boba looked over to see him picking up the pieces of a broken, empty mug. 

“The more I hear about what happened to you, what'll happen to you, whatever, the more frustrated I get knowing that I wasn't there for any of it.”

“Well it won't happen this time,” Boba replied idly. 

“Sure, yeah, if we pull it all off, but what about you? Won't change what you've already gone though, clearly.”

“I'm coping.”

“No you aren't.”

Boba looked up at his buir. “I'm doing better than I have for almost as long as I can remember, alright? Can we just let this be a nice reunion? You don't need to know all my baggage. Or worry about it.”

“I'm your buir, Boba. It's kind of my job to worry about you, even if you are in your forties. If I were still alive in your time, do you think I wouldn't still worry?”

“Alright,” Boba conceited. “Just don't pry.”

Jango shrugged. “I won't. And I'm glad you've been doing better recently, I mean that. Just don't think I don't know how bad ‘better’ can be compared to how low the lows get.”

“Considering now is one of the ‘better’ periods in your life, I can imagine.”

“Hey,” Jango warned, setting a place in front of Boba. “Be nice.”

Boba made an expression that probably just ended up looking hilarious on his little baby face. “What, am I not allowed to call your bullshit out back?” 

“Nope. I hate the idea that my problems are so evident that my ten year old son noticed them and then remembered them for thirty more years, so you won't be reminding me of it.”

Boba muttered something incomprehensible under his breath. Because what could he do, blame him?

“Eat.” Jango said, pointing at the food in front of Boba. 

Boba sighed, but didn't say anything else. He was very hungry, and Jango's food was always very good. 

Good enough (and maybe nostalgic enough) that he almost started crying again, which was especially embarrassing considering the conversation he just had. But it'd been harder for him to cry ever since he started T, so it was probably just that.

“I miss good breakfast,” Boba commented, pushing back his tears. 

“I taught you how to cook,” Jango accused. “I could cook better than Jaster when he adopted me and I was nine. It was the most embarrassing thing in the galaxy for him. Didn't want that for you, and now here we are.”

“I can cook!” Boba protested, “I just hate doing it.”

“I gave you the gift of stress baking as a coping mechanism and you didn't even take it. I can't believe it.”

Boba narrowed his eyes. “Wait, is that why we had surprise uj cake so often?”

Jango just shrugged. Bastard. 

Breakfast continued silently until right when Boba was about finished, when Jango lit up like he'd just remembered something.

“I know what could clue you in to when you are relative to… Everything. One of the Cuy’val Dar Found a Foundling the other day, I was going to have you meet them today. Only thing I really had planned, but I would think it'd be fairly memorable.”

Boba frowned. “What? That never happened. There were never any other kids here. How old are they.”

Jango stood, putting his plate in the sink before moving to the door and putting on his boots. Not even changing out of his pajamas, which was a bold choice. “They're around your age. Are you sure you don't remember?”

“Positive. Like you said, it's a very memorable moment. The rest of the clones haven't been collected by the Jedi yet, right?”

“No, they haven't. I'm assuming that's when things go to shit?”

Boba nodded, following his buir. It was almost scary knowing that this timeline wasn't quite the same as his own, ignoring the time travel. Anything could be different, and Boba would never know unless he encountered the difference directly. For all he knew, Kenobi wouldn't even come, and Jango's death would come from something entirely different. 

The two made their way through the hallways between the Cuy'val Dar apartments. Somewhere in the back of Boba's mind he remembered it was six in the morning, but that wouldn't matter much to the new parent of this mystery foundling. 

But suddenly, round the curve of a very faintly angled section of hallway, a child became visible, clearly not a cadet. Boba didn't recognize the kid in any way, shape, or form, but as the kid saw him, they smiled and started running. 

“Fett!”

It was clear they recognized Boba, somehow, and called him by his surname? As the kid got closer, their appearance didn't become any more familiar, but Boba realized he recognized the faint but purposeful smiling tilt of their head, like they were accustomed to their face being obstructed when with others.

A smile broke out on Boba's face, because what were the chances of that?

“Beroya!” Boba exclaimed, starting to run to his friend. 

The two crashed together into a hug, Boba lifting the Beroya off the ground just a tiny bit in his excitement. He was even smaller than Boba himself. He was eight, perhaps? Or maybe his growth was just a bit behind Boba's.

“I thought you said you didn't know the kid?” Jango asked, obviously very confused. “And why are you calling them beroya? They're a bit young for a bounty hunter.”

The Beroya blinked up at Jango like he had just realized he was there. Boba wouldn't be too surprised if that were actually the case. 

“...You really are a clone, aren't you,” he observed softly. “He looks more like you than you do.”

Boba shrugged. He didn't really know how to respond to the Beroya's comment, so he replied to his buir instead. “The Beroya here is one of my current friends, from my time. And I don't know his name so I just call him Beroya.”

“If you're friends, why don't you know his name?”

Boba shrugged. “I mean, no one does? And everyone else just calls him Mando but obviously I couldn't do that so… Beroya.”

Jango shook his head. “I have no idea how you were able to say beroya with that much love and respect. And I thought my love life was weird.”

Boba winced slightly. “No jokes like that when we're like this, buir.” Because for as many complicated feelings Boba had towards his friend regularly, any of that made him a bit queasy when faced with a child. 

Jango's eyes widened a bit. “Right, sorry. Didn't put together how it looks on your end. I'll shut up.”

Boba nodded gratefully. The Beroya looked to be on the same page with it all, which was a relief to Boba. He wasn't overreacting. 

“It's strange seeing your face,” Boba mused, “even if it probably looks completely different in thirty years. I, uh. I'm sorry?”

The Beroya waved away the concern. “I'm nine, it's fine. Haven't sworn the Resol'nare yet.”

Boba snorted. “Quite the loophole there.”

The Beroya smacked him lightly. “I don't even have anything remotely resembling a buy'ce right now, okay?”

“Oh, of course, you were Found by Nynira,” Jango interrupted, realization on his face. “Of course you end up a bit more… Private, I guess. I didn't know names were part of all that though.”

“Not until recently,” the Beroya replied solemnly. “It's been much harder to be Mando in the last five years, secrecy is our survival.”

“And survival is your strength…” Jango replied absently. “Something worse than New Mandalore and Death Watch?”

The Beroya frowned a bit. The way he didn't school his expressions at all fit his young age neatly, but there was an exhaustion under everything that Boba recognized from his own time. The fact that he didn't recognize the name New Mandalore also seemed to line up with what Boba knew about him. At one point he'd confessed he'd never paid attention to a history lesson in his life and avoided the news like the plague.

“The Empire,” was the response the Beroya settled on eventually. Nice and simple.

“Didn't you mention something about an empire, Boba? How hard would it be to add a blow to all that to our plans?”

Boba shrugged. “If we do something about the other clones it might affect things but I'm not quite sure…”

The Beroya blinked. “What are we doing? And should we be talking about it in the middle of this hallway?”

Jango hummed. “You make a good point.” He turned back towards the apartment and started walking. 

Boba sighed quietly. For all the chaotic bonding moments they had just had, his buir still didn’t know how to interact. Not that Boba blamed him, he didn’t really know what he was doing either, but it was annoying. Boba fell back with the Beroya, keeping the slower pace that came with shorter legs.

“Why are you here?” Boba asked the Beroya quietly. “On Kamino, I mean. Not back in time thirty years. I don’t expect you to know that.”

“I don’t know,” the Beroya shrugged, “I mean, I’m with my buir, and they are my buir, but they said they’ve been here for ten years and that doesn't line up at all with what I know. I’m not even sure why I’m here, this is much earlier than when my parents died, the Clone Wars haven’t even started.”

Boba swallowed. “That’s… Could your parents be alive?”

The Beroya shook his head. “No, my buir wouldn’t’ve taken me in if they were.”

“I’m sorry we can’t fix that,” Boba sighed. “It feels a bit unfair that I get a chance to save my buir when, for whatever reason, the universe decided to kill your parents off early.”

The Beroya shrugged again, slowly, but Boba could see the hurt in his face, very obviously at that. “If they didn't die I would never have become a Mandalorian, never would've met my buir. So much of what I know and who I am is a direct result of their death, for better or worse. You didn't have anyone after Jango.”

At that last statement, Jango froze for just a bit before shaking his head and continuing to walk. Boba wanted to sigh again. If he didn’t want to hear more about Boba’s past- future- whatever, it was his fault for eavesdropping. 

They returned to the apartment without much more fuss. 

“I’m assuming we're just attempting to fix things?” The Beroya asked once they all settled on a couch that was a lot more plush than Boba remembered. 

Jango shrugged. “A lot of what we’ll actually be able to do relies heavily on what Boba, and I guess you, can remember. My death? From what I've heard, sounds easy to avoid. The brain chips all the clones have in them that I wasn't ever informed of? Harder, considering Taun We would probably steal my kidneys if I asked her about it directly, but stealth isn't impossible. The Empire..?” Jango looked to Boba to maybe elaborate.

“It seems a bit fated. I mean, the Republic wasn't exactly great, but also if the death of the Jedi was the turning point...”

“Shame,” Jango interjected. Boba just rolled his eyes. 

“Anyways, it's anyone's guess. And considering there's already clearly differences between the two timelines without our interjection, anything could happen.”

“That's encouraging,” the Beroya responded with his usual dry sarcasm. “But considering we were both sent back, I think it's at least a bit fair to assume that things were altered just so that we could interact.”

“That feels weird, almost implies someone did this, and purposefully. Not a fan of that.”

“I think the fact that we were both sent back already shows a decent amount of proof to that theory already.”

Boba sighed. The Beroya was right, he just didn't want to think about it.

“Well I'll spend the day searching for those chips,” Jango interrupted, bringing the conversation back on track. “Boba has a point with the differences between timelines. I want to make sure there are actually chips before we go about removing them, I might've never known about them because they don't exist here.”

“They're well hidden,” Boba added, “basic brain scans can’t detect them, you’ll have to do something fairly powerful”

“I'll be slicing before I actually take anyone away to look at their head, but I'll keep that in mind if it comes to it.”

Boba nodded. It was a good plan. 

“Should we be doing anything?” The Beroya asked, “I'm not the best slicer but I know the basics.”

Jango waved him off. “I'm not going to go to any terminals I'm not allowed to get at, but having any kids with me would bring unwanted attention. If you can think of something to do, go ahead, but remember your limits.”

There was a knock at the door, and with a bit of a pinched look, Jango got up and rounded the corner to open it.

“Su’cuy Fett! is Din here?”

Boba made a note that the modulated voice was not one he recognized from his childhood. It made sense, with things being different.

“If that's what the kid's name is, he never said, but he’s here" Jango replied awkwardly.

The Beroya, Din, looked over at Boba with a worried look. Jango was already not playing any of this well.

Chapter Text

“When they come in here, leave me to the talking,” Fett murmured.

Din thought that was a bit unfair. He'd lasted a few hours with his buir not suspecting a thing, granted, it was only a few days after he was Found and Nynira wasn't his buir quite yet, but still. He wasn't helpless, and he definitely wasn't going to let his appearance convince Fett he was, especially when he was also very, very small.

Fett gave Din a look. “Don't argue with me, it'll bring attention to us. You have a terrible sabbac face and that's with your buy'ce.”

He was right, unfortunately. Fett had a masterful sabbac face, a natural skill in deceitful acting, and Din hadn't needed to say anything for Fett to assume he was about to protest. But still, he took a fair bit of offense, and opened his mouth to speak. 

Before Din could get a single sound out, his face was suddenly pressed down on the throw pillow next to him, with what he assumed was Fett's elbow digging into the top of his head. Nynira’s voice got much closer only seconds later. There was no denying Fett’s foresight.

“You two getting along?” Nynira asked with a light chuckle. 

Din felt Fett shrug, but he still didn't move his elbow. “I guess,” he replied. “We're just playin.”

It was kind of amazing how well Fett was able to play up the kid thing, there wasn't much of the weird dissonance between tone and the pitch of his voice like there was before. It wasn't perfect, but it would be convincing enough for anyone who didn't suspect anything. Which would be most people, considering weird body snatching time travel wasn't really a thing that happened. 

“Y'know, as soon as I mentioned you this morning, Din just took off! Nevermind it's still so early. I hope he didn't wake you up.”

“It's fine, I was awake… Had some nightmares ‘n I didn't want to go back to sleep.”

“Din has been having issues sleeping ever since I Found him, for obvious reasons. I hope you two do better in the future.”

Fett nodded. “...Thank you Nynira.” He was able to disguise his ‘the situation is very different than what you think it is’ awkwardness with just general ‘kid talking to adult’ awkwardness flawlessly, and Din was starting to get why exactly his head got shoved into a pillow. 

Another reason it was smart of Fett to shut Din up, he realized, was because the improvised act he would've instinctually put up would’ve made no sense in context. Din couldn't just go up for a hug and call his buir… Buir, not like Fett could with his own father. At that point of time, Nynira had only known Din for a couple of days. They were not the buir Din remembered from just before their death, and that was… Well, Din knew that he grew close with them very quickly, at least in his own timeline, but a few days was not enough. He wished he could be open with his parent like Fett, but they didn't even know him.

“Are you okay there, Din?”

Din jumped, not expecting to be addressed. Fett’s elbow was still pressed firmly on the side of his head, which was probably what prompted the question. 

“I'm fine,” Din replied awkwardly. “He's… being gentle?”

Nynira laughed. “Well, you two have fun. Jango said it's okay if you stay over here, Din, but you can come back to our place at any time. Do you remember where we are?”

That morning had been a mad, desperate dash to find Fett. Din had gotten turned around multiple times, had to ask for directions from a few different clones, and got a few death stares from the scientists he'd rushed past. He had no idea where he was staying with Nynira. He nodded anyways. 

“Perfect! I'll see you later, have fun!”

When Nynira left, the entire apartment seemed to let out a sigh of relief. Din was finally released from Fett’s not-so-playful tackle, and Jango returned to the room. 

“Can't wait for this to all happen again with Zam,” Jango sighed. 

“Is she here?” Fett asked, a hint of longing in his words.

“Not currently, but I gave her the job she's on so she'll probably be back later today.”

“Who's Zam?” Din asked, and Fett chuckled softly. Which didn't seem too fair; that was the chuckle Boba gave when Din didn't know some “important” thing about the old Republic. Zam seemed to just be some random person from Fett's past. 

“She's a friend,” Jango replied, “also a hunter. She watches Boba sometimes, er, well, before, I guess.”

“She's basically his Fennec,” Fett murmured, quiet enough that only Din could hear. That gave Din more context than anything else could. It was easy to imagine Jango standing next to Fennec, probably because he looked exactly like Fett, but still. 

“Right,” Din replied, “are we going to tell her about all this?”

“That's a good question,” Jango mused, eyeing Fett. “It would mean one less person to hold up the act in front of, but at the same time, it's not like she's around all the time, and I'm not sure how useful she'll be.”

“Just don't kill her,” Fett said.

Jango frowned. “...Did I do that in your timeline?”

Fett nodded. “Right before you died yourself. To prevent her from telling some jedi about you and Kamino. He found it all out anyways.”

Jango let out a long sigh. “Figures. ”

Everyone in that room was a bounty hunter. Fett’s little nickname for Din meant bounty hunter. And yet, Din suddenly felt like bounty hunters were some of the stupidest people out there. Here the Fetts were, casually discussing the death of someone they both clearly considered a friend. A death that, in the original timeline, was carried out by one of them. And the worst part was, Din just sat there nodding along. He could understand why it had happened. 

“Alright,” Jango said suddenly, bringing Din out of his thoughts. “I'm going to go look into things. You two stay here, I’ll come back with an update… sometime.”

As the door shut behind Jango, Din turned to look at Fett. “Now what?”

Fett sighed. “I don't know, this is all a bit frustrating.” He frowned. “I'm glad we're not actually dumb kids right now. I'm almost positive that if I were ten I'd be dumb enough to try to sneak out and try to help.”

“If I were actually eight I'm sure you'd be able pressure me into coming with you almost effortlessly.”

Fett laughed. “And I would definitely do that! I was an absolute menace.”

“Was?”

“I can push you back into that pillow,” Fett warned with a smirk. “I could be free of your snark! Wouldn't that be great?”

“Sure, but only if you can catch me,” Din replied. It was a strange situation, it was hard to take anything Fett said seriously with that face, and Din knew it was probably even worse the other way around. 

Fett grinned at the challenge and immediately attempted to put Din in a headlock. Din dodged his arm easily and threw a punch back. Unfortunately, he was not very strong at the moment, and Fett barely seemed to flinch. 

Their following spar was… Very uncoordinated. Neither of them were quite used to their current level of strength and size, and by the end, they were both just laughing at the absurdity of it all, breathless only after about a minute. 

“When’s the last time you’ve had time off like this?” Din asked. “It feels so strange, not being able to help. I understand why, but…”

“It’s a bit anxiety inducing to just lie back, huh?” Fett asked with a knowing smile. 

Din nodded with a laugh. “We’ll probably have to swoop in and save someone eventually.”

“Probably,” Fett replied, voice getting a bit more grim. Because that was already what they were doing, wasn’t it? Jango’s life was being balanced on a thread, one they couldn’t really see. 

Din sighed, making his way back to the couch. “And now we just wait.”

Boba nodded in agreement. “And hope.”

It had been a few hours since Jango had left when the door opened again. Fett stilled at the sound, peering down the hall with a strange look on his face.

Jango hadn’t returned. Instead, Fennec Shand slowly entered the room, frowning slightly as she spotted Fett and Din. She didn't look too different, much more recognizable than Boba had been. She was maybe in her late teens, early twenties. Her braids were still tied up in a very similar way, but they were gathered into two bigger braids instead of one. The string was pink and blue instead of red, and Din could see the faintest hint of braces with bands of the same color on her teeth as her mouth opened like she was trying to decide what to say. Her outfit was almost exactly the same as well, which seemed strange. Not that he could really judge. Overall, it just went to show how well she had aged. She was a good decade older than Fett, it seemed. Din would've never guessed. 

“Why the fuck are you here?” Fett asked, and Din let out a silent sigh of relief. He was worried that he’d missed something, that Fett had known Fennec as a child, but it seemed like this was all just another case of things changing to get them all together. Or, well, maybe he should say it was another coincidence. To lift some worry from Fett.  If Fett was wrong in assuming that Fennec had been sent back too, they were in for some sort of treat.

Fennec’s eyebrows raised in surprise. She stared at Fett, clearly putting things together, and then sighed. “Hell if I know. According to Zam I'm supposed to be her apprentice, but I never knew her when I was actually this age. Almost killed her in her sleep because I didn’t recognize her, but she’s been a good sport about it all.”

“So she knows?” Fett asked. 

Fennec nodded. “Wasn't sure how I'd explain it otherwise.”

“That makes things easier.”

Fennec turned to Din, squinting. “Am I... Wrong to assume that you're Mando?”

Din shook his head. “That's me. But just… Call me Din.”

“You sure?” Fennec asked. “It already feels weird seeing you all peeled like that.”

“Peeled?”

“That's what Boba’d always say he was before he got his armor back. I assumed it was a Mando thing.”

“...That was just a me thing,” Fett muttered. 

Din chuckled. “Sounds like something you'd say. And Fennec, really, it's fine. Things would get a bit sticky with my buir if you kept calling me Mando.”

“Your buir?” Fennec asked. 

“My parent.”

“I know what buir means, I just didn't realize… Nevermind. You didn't tell them?”

Din winced. At this point, Nynira was the only full adult connected to the whole thing that didn't know. “It's only been a few days since they’ve taken me in. Or, well, the younger version of me. I didn't want to put anything else on their shoulders.”

Fennec nodded once. 

“So you were with Zam on her hunt?” Fett asked. “Which hunt was it? I'm still trying to figure out when we are more exactly. I don't really… Remember any actual dates of the terrible events we're trying to prevent. Er, well, except for Order 66. That's just Empire Day.”

“We killed a senator. Amidala, I think? I helped a lot. It was actually a pretty fun job.”

Boba stilled. “Amidala? Are you sure?”

Fennec nodded slowly. “Yeah, why?”

Boba cursed heavily. “We have less time than I thought. That Jedi must be on his way.”

Din perked up slightly at the mention of Jedi. “What happens when the Jedi arrives?”

Boba sighed heavily. “Nothing good. First time around Jango followed Zam on the Amidala hunt, but I'm assuming since Fennec is now in the picture he didn't bother.”

Fennec frowned. “I wonder if my existence here changed much else.”

“Well you actually finished the job, that didn’t happen in our time. Amidala died at the end of the Clone Wars, not the beginning.”

“I remember that,” Fennec mused. “It’s only a few years early with that kill though. Hopefully it won't affect much.”

Din glanced at Fett, he seemed to know the most out of all of them somehow, and at that moment he seemed to be trying to remember something.

“...Probably won't. A few things might change politically with her being a senator and all, but we're going to be depriving the Clone Wars of their clones. So we're already changing that sort of thing quite a bit.

“How much time do you think we have before the Jedi?” Din asked. He didn't want to really press the subject, but he couldn't deny he was curious. 

“Not a lot. Last time, buir barely had enough time to change and take a shit before he came knocking on our door.” Boba frowned. “We should probably do something about that, shouldn't we?”

Din smiled. “I'd like to take a stroll around the place, keep an eye out for things.”

“I can chaperone you two,” Fennec offered with a teasing grin. “Make sure you don't get into too much trouble.”

“You're lucky I like you,” Boba muttered in response. “Let's just go and see if we run into Jango or the Jedi first.”

It was the Jedi, it turned out. Though Din would've never guessed the man in front of him was a Jedi if Boba hadn't shivered violently at the sight of him. His cloaks were drenched, and while the rains of Kamino would do that to anyone, he didn't carry himself like a warrior, and there were no signs of his sorcery yet. He just looked cold. 

“Do you know what's going on here?” The Jedi asked, question clearly directed at Fennec. She was the oldest, after all. 

“No,” she responded awkwardly, looking a bit uncomfortable. She looked just about ready to bolt, but they were a bit stuck there. They couldn't let the man just continue wandering around on his own. 

“Is there something in your shirt?” Boba suddenly asked. Sure enough, Din could see something wiggling within the folds of the Jedi's cloak. Boba sounded genuinely surprised, not fake-kid surprised, so presumably the Jedi did not have a small creature wriggling around in his cloak before.

The Jedi sighed. “I suppose it wouldn't hurt to bring him out, at least in front of you younglings. This little stowaway has been bothering me all day.”

He reached into his robe and pulled out an even smaller Grogu than Din was used to. 

Din gasped, and then immediately shut himself up. He did not want the Jedi figuring out about the whole time travel thing, not if he hadn’t already plucked it from their minds. 

Grogu let out a soft cry, reaching for the floor beneath him. The Jedi sighed again. 

“Alright, I'll let you down. I can't imagine you'll get too far crawling around.”

And crawl Grogu did, right up to Din. Din himself tried his best to look surprised while his mind tried to wrap itself around the fact that Grogu had seemed to have traveled back too. Why else would he be here? Why else would he immediately clamber up to Din?

Fett shot a purposeful glance at Din before putting on his “just a little kid” act and stepping up to the Jedi, beginning to ask him a myriad of questions. It was a distraction, Din quickly realized, a distraction so the Jedi wouldn't notice him interacting with Grogu like the father he was and not the random eight year old he currently looked like. 

Din sent quiet thanks to his friend and reached down to pick up Grogu, who had been clumsily grappling with his pant leg.  

“Hello, ad’ika,” Din whispered, kissing Grogu's forehead. “You found me.”

Grogu just stared at him for a while, and Din suddenly realized he wasn't at all recognizable appearance wise. He wasn't surprised Grogu knew who he was instinctively though. If Fett was able to figure it out through context clues, Grogu could most definitely do the same with his magic.

Speaking of magic.

“Did you do this?” Din asked Grogu, sneaking a glance at the Jedi to see if he was still preoccupied with Fett. 

Grogu shook his head, which was a relief for several reasons. Din knew Grogu could understand him, at least at a basic level, and he knew the kid could also respond to yes or no questions. Problem was, ninety percent of the time he refused to do it. For Grogu to actually respond meant that he was listening and that he understood the seriousness of the situation. A no also meant that he didn’t do it, or at least, he wasn’t aware if he did. If he didn’t want to be truthful he just wouldn’t’ve replied.

Din sighed quietly, readjusting his grip on Grogu. The kid was much heavier now that Din was so much smaller, and he didn’t know how much longer he could actually carry him. Fett was still pestering the Jedi, and Fennec was… gone. To find Jango, perhaps? Din swallowed. He had no idea what would happen, he had no idea what was going on. Fett had been so anxious about that Jedi appearing, but he hadn’t specified why, exactly, his arrival was so bad. It could just be a trigger for other events, but this could also be the man who had killed Fett’s buir in the first place. He just didn’t know. 

Din idly watched Fett freeze as a Kaminoan rounded the corner. They spotted the Jedi and rushed towards him, apologizing for not greeting him immediately, apologizing for Fett’s existence. The Jedi looked grateful, not so subtly shrugging Fett off as he started speaking with the Kaminoan, and Fett wandered back to Din.

“Your kid too?” Fett asked quietly, and Din just nodded.

“That means everyone that was on my ship at the time got sent back, and we’re all here on Kamino.” Fett frowned. “Hate to say it, but I think that might mean something.”

He didn’t say what exactly it might mean, and Din wasn’t stupid enough to assume that any of them knew the answer to that. Time travel was something one played by ear, apparently.

Chapter Text

Kamino was strange, but Obi-Wan didn't know what he had expected from a world that hadn't been recorded in the Jedi Archives. Maybe it was the more banal strangeness that was more unexpected than the alien strangeness. He hadn't been expecting the barrage of children he had run into, each one seeming out of place among the sterility and order of the city. The encounter felt strangely purposeful, like the children had been trying to get something from him. Perhaps they just harassed every visitor that came in, Obi-Wan doubted they got many. 

The tour given to Obi-Wan by the Kaminoan Taun We was… Well, Obi-Wan’s mind was reeling the entire time, he had no idea what was going on and Taun We was clearly expecting him to have some sort of basic context. He could grasp the beginnings of it all, a conveniently timed army of clones was being given to the Jedi. Or, well, apparently they had ordered it, though Obi-Wan had no knowledge of that. Outside of those basics though, there was no hope for him to understand the whys or hows.

He just wanted to find the bounty hunter who killed Padmé, his heart wasn't quite ready for everything else that had gone on. Revenge was not the Jedi way, which was why Anakin had not come along for this search, but Obi-Wan was, frankly, more upset than he should've been. As he went along on his tour, his patience was starting to run thin, and how much mercy was he supposed to give a bounty hunter anyways? They had certainly taken many more lives than just Padmé. Obi-Wan was no stranger to killing, and the killer was already a small part of the scum of the universe. 

“Would you like to meet the template?”

Obi-Wan blinked at Taun We’s question, brought back from his thoughts. “What?”

“Mr. Jango Fett, he is the one who so graciously donated his genetic sequence to be cloned. Every clone in this city is a near-identical replica of him. He also oversaw the design of their armor and trained the elite Alpha ARCs, along with a few other batches.”

So, basically, someone in the city who was not a scientist or clone. A lead, or at least the beginnings of one.

“Yes, of course.”

Taun We nodded and led him to a hallway more reminiscent of one in an apartment complex than any of the ones he had passed before, not really because of styling, but because it seemed like all the doors were reasonably spaced and locked. Like actual living space. She stopped at the very first door in the line and rang the doorbell. 

One of the children from earlier, the one who had asked Obi-Wan a flurry of questions, opened the door. He didn't look very inquisitive now, just unimpressed. 

“Hello Boba,” Taun We greeted, “is your father home?”

The child, Boba, just turned around and called out, “Dad! Taun We is here!”

No mention of Obi-Wan himself, Boba had probably already told his father about him. It seemed like he had expected this. 

As he entered the small apartment, Obi-Wan noticed a set of Mandalorian armor tucked away in the open closet right in front of the door. The assassin who killed Padmé had not been a Mandalorian, nor was their partner, but Kamino was far from Mandalore. It was hard to imagine that a Mandalorian who wore armor as often as the placement of Fett’s set suggested would not at least have connections to the underworld if they weren’t a bounty hunter himself. It was likely that he knew Padmé’s killer. 

“So, you are the Jedi sent to check on the order?” Fett asked as Obi-Wan stepped up to him. 

Obi-Wan chuckled bitterly. “Believe it or not, that's not the reason I'm here, at least, it wasn't why I came. I'm actually searching for the killer of a good friend of mine.”

“And I'm your main suspect.” Fett assumed, almost sounding bored. 

Obi-Wan shook his head. “No, I don't think it's you, considering neither you nor your armor resemble the killers. What I do suspect is that you can help me.”

“How so?”

“Would it be presumptuous to assume that you are acquainted with any assassins or mercenaries that may be nearby?”

Fett huffed. “Did you assume that because of my armor? Because if so, yes, it would be presumptuous. What evidence brought you to my doorstep in the first place?”

Obi-Wan brought out the dart that killed Padmé. “This is what was used to assassinate my friend. It was filled with a very rare poison native to this planet, and so I figured this was a good place to start my search. I doubt any of the scientists or clones did it, and so you were the first lead I found.”

Fett plucked the dart from Obi-Wan’s hands and frowned as he inspected it. “These darts are produced in a few other cities around the planet, but not Tipoca. There are others aside from scientists and clones here, but they mostly consist of trainers, trainers who are not allowed to leave the planet until their ten year contract is over.” He looked back up at Obi-Wan. “You might be better off searching for a city that is not almost solely dedicated to producing an army at the moment.”

Obi-Wan took the dart back with a frown. Fett wasn't lying, he was fairly certain of that, but the way he spoke suggested that Fett assumed that Jedi were walking lie detectors. He was hiding something. 

Pursing his lips, Obi-Wan discretely expanded his senses past the room, trying to find any minute disturbance in the force he could detect without proper meditation. Fett frowned at the silence, perhaps suspecting that Obi-Wan was up to something, and then Obi-Wan found something, something that might've been rather obvious if he had been paying attention from the start. There was a presence in one of the adjacent rooms, clearly attempting to hide. 

“There's someone in that room,” Obi-Wan stated, pointing to the door. Fett's eyes widened for a second, and then he sighed. 

“It's not who you think it is,” Fett muttered before raising his voice and calling out, “Alpha! What are you doing in there?”

The door opened and out came a grinning clone, Alpha, presumably. He was probably the oldest clone Obi-Wan had seen so far, but of course not nearly as old as Fett. Otherwise they looked nearly identical, Alpha only lacking Fett's scars and having a bit of a distinctive beauty mark above his lip. He didn’t look at all bothered about being caught. 

“The other Alphas and I were going to put on a performance for the year fours today, and I was chosen to play you,” the shit eating grin on his face widened as he spoke, “so, of course, I had to get into costume, otherwise no one would know who I was supposed to be.”

Obi-Wan hadn't even noticed that Alpha was not wearing the usual clone uniform, the clothing he was wearing instead was so mundane it was almost funny. Probably in order to spite Fett more. 

“Yeah, yeah, I get your point. Now get out of the apartment before you make any other wandering Jetiise suspicious.”

Alpha gave Obi-Wan an inquisitive look before shaking his head and leaving the apartment. Jango sighed, “sorry about that.”

Obi-Wan chuckled quietly. “It’s alright, I can leave now.”

“Actually, before you do,” Jango started, “I'd still like to talk about the other reason you're here, even if you deny it. Are the Jedi taking their army?”

Obi-Wan frowned at the question, the sudden turn in conversation making him uneasy. He didn’t know the answer to that, not really, but it felt like Fett did somehow. And yet that made Obi-Wan feel even more inclined to believe there were many incorrect ways to reply. 

“Yes... I think so,” Obi-Wan replied slowly, words stilted. “Your clones will be invaluable if the threatened war breaks out, when it breaks out.”

Fett hummed tunelessly. “Well, the Jedi have always been complicit in slavery, despite how moral they claim to be. I shouldn't really be surprised.”

Obi-Wan bristed. “I-- You--”

“Did you not consider that? How much of the facility did Taun We show you?”

“I was shown… Many areas from a distance. It was a very quick tour.” Obi-Wan looked behind Jango, at the two children sitting behind him, listening. He was desperate for an escape from the conversation, but they didn't look like they were his answer. “I didn't see any of the clones up close, aside from that Alpha fellow.” A poor excuse and he knew it. 

Fett glanced over his shoulder, searching for what Obi-Wan had been staring at. A calm smile had replaced Fett’s disappointed frown by the time he'd turned back. “You spoke with Boba quite a bit, I've heard.”

Boba looked up at that statement, a sly smile emerging on his own face. As Obi-Wan considered the boy’s appearance, he realized that yes, he was in fact, a clone. 

Obi-Wan swallowed. “You're their template, I've just gotten here. Why are you, of all people, talking like you're any better?” He was deflecting, he knew. He felt sick. Why hadn't he realized what the army was? When had he started to assume that the clones were equivalent to machines? What would Anakin think of him? 

“I know my sins more than anyone,” Fett replied, voice low. “I've had to live with them for ten years now. I will never claim that I dealt with my guilt in the best way for myself or the clones, but listen. I am not in charge of anything here, I can't leave the planet without someone closely monitoring where I've gone and how long it's been. This was, is, a job I accepted before I realized what exactly a clone army implied. There are millions of them, and I am just one man. What, do you suggest, should I do? You are, and I hope you think about this long and hard, you are their best chance for freedom right now. The Kaminoans are giving them to you. The only clone I have any say over is my son, but you and the Jedi have the rest. Have fun with that.”

The last words were bitter, and Obi-Wan turned away. “I need to contact the council. I cannot make this decision on my own.”

“Of course,” Fett replied, hate dripping from his words. His son was staring at Obi-Wan with wide, curious eyes. His anger was more subdued, somehow seeming ancient. Obi-Wan shook his head slightly and refocused on the task at hand, he would leave the apartment and contact the council. 

There was no emotion, there was only the force. Obi-Wan couldn't let the strong emotions Fett had uncovered affect the decision too much, and so he let his rolling guilt flow away with the tides of the force. 

Boba watched Kenobi as he made his way out to presumably speak with the Jedi council. It wasn't surprising that he wasn't being deterred by the timeline changes, at least, it wasn't surprising for Boba. Kenobi always had seemed to be the type to not stray far from what was expected of him, though it wasn't like Boba had interacted with him much. Maybe that was just how Jedi worked. 

“It doesn't seem like he has noticed that Grogu's not with him anymore,” Din commented. He sounded almost judgemental, which was funny. “So far I'm not very impressed by these Jedi.”

Boba hummed. “They've never been too impressive.”

“I met one on Corvus once,” Din recalled, “she actually seemed as mysterious and powerful as the legends imply, unlike this one.”

Laughing, Boba shook his head. He only had a vague idea of who the jedi Din met could be, but if his guess was correct, he'd admit that the assessment was fair enough. He hadn't seen Tano since he was only a year older than he looked at that moment, but he'd heard things. Had taunted Vader with them, at one point. 

“Do you think that changed anything?” Jango asked, turning towards Boba. 

“I doubt Kenobi had ever confronted the truth originally, but I don't think he'll have much sway in the decision of the council considering the fact that it seemed like he was just going to dump all of the hard decisions on them and stop thinking about it. You might've broken him a bit, but he's just one jedi.”

“Of course,” Jango sighed. “In better news, I've found the chip.”

Boba's sour mood lifted a bit. He had almost forgotten about that part. “That was fast,” he replied, pleasantly surprised.

“I really must've died when you were young, you almost sound like you doubted me.”

“It's their most closely guarded secret, I would say expecting a full day of searching would've been expected considering you weren't caught,” Boba reasoned. 

Jango huffed. “You give the Kaminoans too much credit.”

“I never doubted you,” Din added distractedly, one eye trained on his very tiny kid currently let loose and crawling around in the room. 

Jango laughed and Boba rolled his eyes with a small smile, quietly glad that the two seemed to be getting along. “Aside from finding the thing, did you find out anything about it?” Boba asked, leading the conversation back on track. 

“Well...” Jango started as he dug around in his pocket and pulled out a small sample plate. “It's not really readable information, but I have one of them. Ended up being easier to get than any information on it.”

Boba blinked. “Who… Is that Alpha’s?”

Jango frowned. “What? No, that wasn't Alpha, that was Zam, you didn't recognize her?”

Boba played the scene with “Alpha” back in his mind. Zam wasn't just a shapeshifting Clawdite, she was also a damn good actor. She would always leave a sign that it was her for anyone who knew her, but Boba had apparently missed it. He shook his head. “It's been years since I've known any Clawdites, much less Zam. I guess I've lost my touch. If that's not Alpha’s chip though, whose is it?”

“Found a cadet in the medbay with a migraine, no one objected to me doing a few more scans than usual,” Jango smiled sadly. “I'm not sure if he would've ever made it out of here if they continued, but apparently the chip was what was causing them. If you look close you can see it’s starting to rot.”

Boba took the chip, holding it up in the light. Din came up right behind him to get a good look as well. “Is anyone going to realize this was removed? I'd imagine it leaves quite the scar.”

Jango shrugged. “Fennec's with the cadet at the moment, I told her to go take him around outside so no one finds them, hopefully they aren't too miserable out there. It's not a long term solution, but I have one. That Jedi showing up was… Not part of the plan.”

“Speaking of,” Din interjected, “the Jedi are taking the army. We don't really have a long term. Do we know of any sort of master switch for the chips? Because taking them all out individually ourselves will be impossible if they’re leaving.”

“I've looked,” Jango replied with a sigh. “And knowing the Kaminoans, I doubt there is one. Not all of the clones will be deployed right away though, so if we're unable to find a way to turn off the chips remotely, we might be able to stay here and de-chip whoever we can so that at least there’s less… damage done.”

Boba frowned. “This isn't… Is this really all we can do? From what I know, chips aren't even activated until the end of a galactic war, that's still so much.”

“This morning you were content with just removing the chips and maybe preventing the Republic from outright admitting it's an empire, and that was back when we thought we had time. What are you expecting us to be able to do?”

“Fennec's here now! Zam’s in on the whole thing! We have an entire baby here just because the stars decided that depriving Din was just too depressing or something. I don't think it's that much of a stretch anymore to assume that we're here for a reason! We're practically sitting on a big portion of why the war got as big as it did, and that portion is an entire group of people we're both related to that get absolutely nothing from any of this! I don't think it's unreasonable to maybe want to change things a bit more!”

Jango sighed, running a hand through his hair. “If there was a way for me to do anything about the clones, I would have done it already. I think you knew that even when you were actually ten. We're doing the best we can, ad’ika, especially with what time we have. Removing the chips is more than I could ever imagine doing for them.”

“You didn’t even know about the chips until I told you. Are you really satisfied with what little help that’ll do?” Boba demanded, looking up at his buir. He wasn’t mad, he was just… Stars. Disappointed. 

“You think I’m satisfied with any of this?” Jango huffed. “I’ve been stuck with this for the last ten years, you haven’t.”

“I’ve been thinking about it for the last thirty,” Boba challenged. “Ka’ra, just let me help.”

Jango sighed, shoulders falling in defeat. “Alright, okay. Do you at least have a plan?”

Boba frowned. “Is that what you were worried about? Of course I do.”

“Right, of course,” Jango murmured. “Still not used to the whole… Time travel thing.” 

Boba waved the excuse away. “You don't have to like everything I say.”

“I just don't like that we keep getting into arguments.”

Boba glanced at Din, who didn't look too uncomfortable listening in. “I don't think that was really much of an argument, it's fine.”

“What's your plan?” Din asked, apparently taking Boba's look as an excuse to butt in. “Limited time, remember?”

“Right,” Boba replied a bit sheepishly. “I think if we want to do the most we can, we need to get at least some troopers from the command classes working with us. That'll at the very least give us the chance to have chips being removed after battalions are sent out. If we play our cards right though, we may be able to help them take control of a cruiser or two.”

Jango's eyebrows raised in disbelief. “You want to convince the most brainwashed, Republic-loving clones to just… Commit several mutinies?”

Boba shook his head with a small smile. “You underestimate them,” he said simply. He sure hoped he wasn’t just looking back on his distant vode with rose tinted glasses.