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1
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“No no no no,” Din muttered, half-running and half-sliding down the muddy slope, “ not good.”
Mud clung to his boots and spattered on his beskar. He was on foot because the speeder wouldn’t cover this last stretch of sliding, clinging, swampy ground. And he was running because the swampy slope gave way to an actual swamp, into which Luke Skywalker’s X-wing-- with a plume of smoke still rising alarmingly from the upper starboard engine-- was sinking slowly.
Okay. Tactical scan. He spotted the remains of the astromech escapement, tangled with parachute fabric, to the left along the edge of the swamp. Still swearing under his breath, he picked his way to it.
The escapement contained R2-D2, slightly singed and beeping insistently, and-- thank the Maker-- Grogu, all in one piece. Din scooped the kid up to double check.
“Are you okay?” he said. Grogu babbled a reassuring noise at him and went back to reaching both of his little green hands toward the downed ship.
“How about you, droid?” R2 beeped something in response, but Din was already scanning again. Where was the pilot eject seat?
“...Where’s Luke?”
R2’s beeps became more insistent. Damn, he really did need to learn more Droid. Din stared at him, for a moment uncomprehending, and then looked at Grogu’s reaching hands, and then at the ship--
“Dank farrik,” he said.
He set Grogu back down. “Stay with R2, okay? Stay .”
R2 extended a mechanical arm and caught a grip on the back of the child’s robe. “Okay, fine,” Din sighed. “Don’t go anywhere .”
No time to go back up to the speeder to stash his armor-- he’d just have to move fast and try not to get pulled down. He unhooked his cloak and waded into the swamp.
The X-wing was far enough out in the water that his feet couldn’t quite reach the mud at the bottom. He swam the last couple meters, trying not to think of how surprisingly cold the water was, how much time it was going to take to get it out of his gear, or how much of it might already be inside of the ship’s cockpit.
The hatch opened easily enough. Inside there was Luke, half-conscious, still in the pilot’s seat, water rising around his chest.
Din swore again. The flight harness wouldn’t disengage-- he drew his knife and cut the straps instead, hauling Luke free. “Come on,” he said, getting an arm underneath his in support, “you have to swim.”
It seemed like ages getting the both of them back through the murky water, pulling Luke along, trying to keep his head above the surface, while mud and weeds sucked at his boots and algae tangled in his armor. At last he dragged them both onto comparatively solid ground, where Luke coughed up a startling amount of swamp.
Grogu let out a cry and somehow wriggled free of R2’s clutches. His little frame moved with surprising speed over the mud to get to them, and Luke managed to raise his hand enough to pat him on the head.
Behind Din, he heard the X-wing give the groan of several tons of metal under heavy duress, and the whole thing began to sink considerably faster.
He stared at Grogu. The kid suddenly looked… tired. “Please don’t tell me you were holding that up,” Din told him. “I can’t take anything else today.”
“Not the first swamp I’ve had to pull it out of,” Luke murmured, and then coughed some more.
“Later,” Din told the Jedi, in exactly the same tone of voice. “Can you stand?”
“Yes, I’m fine,” said Luke, making absolutely no move to get up.
Din half-carried Luke up to the speeder, propped him up against the side, then slid back down to boost the droid up the slope. Grogu, to his surprise, scrambled up on his own. Hadn’t Luke mentioned he thought his species were swamp dwellers? He’d have to ask him. When he recovered.
He fashioned his cloak into a makeshift sling for Grogu, strapping the kid to his chest. He was going to have to clean it, and the kid’s robe, too. At least Grogu didn’t seem to mind how muddy they were all getting.
“We’re going to have to ride double,” he told Luke. “Can you stay on, or should I tie you on?”
“I’m fine ,” Luke insisted, as Din helped him onto the seat.
Din looked sidelong at R2. One passenger-- well, one and a half-- he could manage, but there was no way they were all going to fit on the speeder. “I’ll come back for you when he’s settled,” he told the droid. R2 gave a short staccato chirp that Din hoped meant ‘affirmative’ and not ‘screw you’.
He climbed onto the speeder in front of Luke. “Hold on to me,” he said.
Luke wrapped both arms around his waist, holding on tight. “I thought you’d never ask,” he murmured indistinctly into Din’s shoulder.
They sped off.
-
Din was absolutely not a doctor, but everyone in his covert had been taught enough first aid to get by. He let his training carry him through the steps of triage-- listen closely to Luke’s breathing (still coughing, but clear enough); take off one glove to test his pulse (slow but steady) and feel his temperature (warm, and the humid Yavin air wasn’t going to do him many favors). There was a cut on his upper arm and another across his temple, and of course he was filthy, they both were-- those were going to need cleaning as soon as possible.
“I need you to stay awake,” he told Luke. He heard his own voice, brusque and slightly distorted through his helmet, as if from a distance. “Keep your head still and watch my hand.”
He observed Luke’s blue eyes follow the motion of his hand, back and forth until he was satisfied the other man wasn’t concussed. “Now stay here, and don’t move,” he said. “I need to find some bandages.”
The structure had been some kind of abandoned, ancient temple, and then it had been a rebel base, also abandoned at some point, and now Luke had set up in a handful of the old rooms-- canteen and living quarters, training court, hangar, one person inhabiting the corners of a space designed for hundreds. Din hadn’t spent much time exploring beyond that. When he was here, he was here for Grogu’s training, not for the architecture.
There was an infirmary, mostly in disuse. He found some antiseptic and cloth for bandages-- no bacta spray or medpatches left, anything that useful would be long cleared out-- and took them back to where he’d left Luke.
“Grogu,” Luke said, barely wincing as Din cleaned the cut on his arm. “Is… is he safe?”
“He’s fine,” said Din. “He’s sleeping now. He was exhausted from-- well, he saved you.”
“You saved me.”
“Believe me,” Din said, “he helped.”
“Had to make sure he got out first,” said Luke, more to himself than anyone. “I would never have forgiven myself if--”
“Enough of that.” Din put a careful hand to Luke’s chin, turning his injured side toward him. There was some bruising starting to spread over the temple. “Hold still, I need to clean this.”
Once Luke was all bandaged, in a clean robe and in his own bed, and Din had checked to make sure Grogu was still sleeping safely in his creche, and he’d retrieved R2, removed the mud and the worst of the scorch marks from his casing, and set the droid to watch Luke and get him if anything, anything , changed-- only once that was all done did Din remove his armor to clean it properly.
He set the pieces neatly, one by one, in the same order as always, pauldrons, cuirass, gauntlets and cuisses, dagger and spear, and his helmet last of all. He stripped off the flightsuit too-- it needed cleaning as well, and badly, but it was well past nightfall. It would have to wait.
For a moment, as always, he fought the feeling of complete exposure-- although he was alone in the chamber, with no one else awake in the base, and no other settlements for hundreds of klicks-- for a moment, even the temple walls were insubstantial, and there was nothing between his skin and the expanse of the galaxy.
Luke always had these sleeping quarters ready for him, for the occasions he did visit, but this time he didn’t sleep. He sat awake, wrapped in the clean sheet, watching the door but not seeing it, for a long time.
-
2
-
Din woke up. He didn’t remember falling asleep, but he woke up nonetheless.
Luke was fast asleep. He checked his breathing, his pulse, his temperature. He inspected the bandages. He looked in on Grogu’s creche-- the kid was fast asleep as well. Din moved the creche into Luke’s chamber, where R2 could watch them both.
He gathered up all their muddy clothes from the day before and found a sonic washer, which he couldn’t figure out how to work. He washed the clothes in the river instead, wearing his helmet and a spare flightsuit from his transport.
He didn’t particularly feel like lunch.
Luke was still asleep. Din checked his breathing, his pulse, his temperature, his bandages. Grogu was still asleep as well. He let himself quietly out of the chamber.
The clothes weren’t drying properly in the rainforest air. He brought them into the base, where it was drier, and spread them out on any available flat surface. He took off his armor, piece by piece, polished each one until the beskar shone, and put each piece back on.
He didn’t much feel like dinner, either.
He checked on Luke-- his breathing, his pulse, his temperature, his bandages-- feeling like a ship set to autopilot. “Nothing?” he asked R2. The droid responded with a low-register tone that was easy enough to interpret. Din rested a hand on his dome for a brief moment before going over to check on Grogu.
Grogu was awake.
Din couldn’t stop a sigh of relief escaping as he lifted him out of the creche. “You okay, kid?” he said. Grogu put one little hand on the visor of his helmet and cooed softly.
“You had me worried,” Din admitted. “Both of you.”
Grogu looked toward the bed where Luke slept, then back at him, and babbled a question. “He’s okay,” said Din, “I think. Hey, I bet you’re hungry.”
He started toward the door, but Grogu wiggled in his arms, reaching back toward the bed. “No?” Din said. “Oh-- you want to stay here, with Master Luke? Well. Okay.” He settled the kid on the bed next to the sleeping Jedi. “Here you go. But don’t bother him, all right? He needs to rest.”
Privately, Din was starting to worry that maybe Luke was getting a little too much rest. He allowed himself one glance at the other man’s face before letting himself out.
There was power to the canteen, but the equipment was designed to cook for a whole base-- Luke hadn’t bothered with the big range and had set up a hearth instead. Din stoked up the fire and heated some bone broth. Opening the cold storage somewhat reluctantly-- you never knew what you were going to find in there-- he discovered a tank of some kind of eggs that he really hoped were for Grogu. He scooped some of them into a second bowl and took them back to the sleeping chamber.
Grogu had pulled himself to his feet and was peering into Luke’s face, at close range, with the kind of intensity only small children can muster. Din sighed. “Kid, I told you not to--”
R2 blooped twice, coasting over to him. Had the droid just interrupted him? Then, belatedly, he put the pieces together.
He set the bowls down, carefully lifted Grogu out of the way, and even more carefully removed the bandage covering Luke’s temple.
The cut underneath it was gone. Even the bruising around where it had been was mostly faded. He checked the one on his arm-- it was the same there. Din let out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding.
“Good job, kid,” he said, sinking into a seat.
Grogu beamed and held out an egg toward him.
“That’s okay,” Din managed. “Those are for you.”
He took the empty bowls back to the canteen and dumped them into the autowasher. When he got back, Grogu was asleep again, curled up next to Luke’s side.
Din checked Luke’s breathing, his pulse, his temperature. It was all… fine. Without thinking, he let his ungloved hand linger, just for a moment, on Luke’s temple where the cut had been. He didn’t credit himself with having much of an imagination, and therefore he was going to assume he really did see Luke stir a little in his sleep.
He adjusted the blanket so it covered Grogu as well. “I’m gonna stay in here tonight,” he told R2. “Do you… sleep, or…?”
The droid rotated his dome back and forth-- no. Then he trundled back to Luke’s bedside and set himself in place to watch.
“Yeah,” said Din, settling his back against the wall, where he could see the door. “Me too.”
-
3
-
The ship was going down. He had to pull up, enough to keep the engine from stalling out, or his crash landing was just going to be a crash.
He hauled desperately at the manual control. Clouds tore upward past the viewscreen, trailing into vapor with the heat of the plummeting ship. A hand covered part of his visor-- he shook it off-- two hands this time, obstructing most of his vision. “Not now, kid,” he insisted, “I can’t see--”
Din woke up. Grogu was standing on his lap, reaching up to pat the visor of his helmet with both little hands. He sighed heavily and moved the kid aside.
Luke was still asleep. Breathing, pulse, temperature. All fine. Din looked down at him helplessly for a moment. What was wrong?
A tiny hand pulled on his boot. He looked down at Grogu, looking back up at him with wide dark eyes. “Okay,” he said, scooping him up again. “Breakfast.”
The hearth fire was down to embers. “You know,” he told Grogu, while he stoked it back up, “I bet you’re supposed to be practicing.” Grogu gave a contemplative sort of coo, and then, with a look of great concentration, extended his hand. A log rose from the basket and deposited itself into the fire.
“Showoff,” Din said, but with fondness.
He watched Grogu happily slurp up several more eggs, another cup of broth, and a handful of something stringy he didn’t particularly care to identify. He was going to have to eat something himself, he knew, and clean his face-- he really couldn’t put it off much longer. Grogu floated the empty dishes into the autowasher while Din heated a second cup of broth for himself.
Once the kid was back under R2’s watchful eye, Din locked himself into his own chamber with the cup of broth and an end of bread. He could manage that much. He washed his face, brushed his hair, cleaned his teeth, without really thinking about any of it. Then he replaced his helmet-- checking the exterior for damage first, a reflex-- after which, the world started to solidify around him.
“R2,” he said, putting his head into Luke’s chamber, “come with me. I want to look at the flight log.”
The droid hesitated, clearly unwilling to leave Luke’s side. “I know,” said Din. “I just-- have a feeling something’s not right.”
Grogu had clambered back up onto the bed and was sitting next to Luke protectively. Din crouched down to his eye level. “Listen, I’m just going to be in the command center,” he said. “I want you to stay here with Master Luke, and if anything happens, you come and get me. Can you do that?” The kid nodded. Good enough.
R2 put the flight log up on the holoprojector. Din pored over it. Most of it was just routine-- they’d been a little late leaving Ahch-To, preflight checks all sound, no problems in hyperspace. There was a debris field orbiting Yavin 4, remnants of the battle more than a decade ago. He knew Luke was more than capable of navigating it; hell, anyone who was capable of taking out an entire Death Star would be able to get through the debris it left.
It looked like a piece of the wreckage, in a decaying orbit, had hit the wing during re-entry. There’d been some kind of reaction in the engine-- Din remembered his dream and for a moment he could hear the rush of fuel igniting in the atmosphere.
“What was it?” he asked R2. “The thing you hit, what was it made of?”
He studied the sensor analysis, what existed of it, but nothing clicked into place. He was searching, he realized, for evidence of a trap-- a sabotage-- something that would make sense . He could comprehend that, he could find out who was responsible and fight back. He couldn’t exact justice against a random accident.
Then what? The other engines couldn’t compensate. The pilot eject had jammed. Din gathered, with R2 speaking very slowly, Luke had insisted he take Grogu and get clear. He’d aimed for the swamp on purpose , opting for a water landing rather than risk tearing the ship to pieces in the trees. He couldn’t have known, only guessed, that Din had already arrived on Yavin and would see where the trail of smoke went down.
“If he survives,” Din muttered, “I’m going to kill him.”
As he slid the door to Luke’s chamber open, he realized he was hearing something. A voice . He froze in the doorway.
“Yes, it’s in the swamp again,” Luke was saying sleepily, his eyes half-open. Grogu was sitting on his chest, by all appearances listening attentively. “I’ll try to get it out when--” A pause. “Yes, I know, Master Yoda. ‘Do or do not, there is no try.’”
Grogu cooed softly. “I don’t know if my training is strong enough,” Luke replied. Another pause. “No, you trained me well. It’s me I’m not sure about.”
Din took a hesitant step forward, torn between needing to go to him and not wanting to disturb-- whatever this was. Then his feet propelled him the rest of the distance and he found himself beside the bed.
Luke turned his head just slightly. Something in his half-lidded eyes shifted, and he gave a weary, genuine, incredible smile.
“Din,” he said. “You’re here.”
“How do you feel?” Din said.
“I think I’d like something to drink,” said Luke, and then, with something that might have been a laugh, he added, “Not water.”
Din felt something grip his heart, half profound relief and half deep exasperation. “Okay,” he said. “I’ll be right back.”
He went in a daze to the canteen and poured a glass of the first thing he saw-- blue milk, as it happened, which Luke had a taste for and Din couldn’t get used to. When he got back to the chamber Luke was asleep again.
“Dank farrik,” he sighed under his breath, setting the glass down. He wanted to sink onto the edge of the bed. He sat in the closest chair instead.
“Was he talking to you?” he said eventually. “Did he think you were-- Yoda?”
Grogu tilted his little head to the side. He clambered over to the edge of the bed and reached out a hand toward the glass of milk.
“Fine,” Din said, and pushed it closer. The kid ate just about anything anyway, and so far nothing had poisoned him.
He had been pretty sure Luke wasn’t concussed. Besides, Grogu had healed the damage-- “Kid,” he said, “you fixed his skin, right?” He tapped the side of his own helmet, in the same spot the cut on Luke’s temple had been.
Grogu looked up at him with a blue-milk mustache. Slowly, he nodded his head.
“Okay. What about… his brain?” How would a child understand internal injuries? “You know, uh, inside his head? Was he hurt there?”
Just as slowly, Grogu gave his head a little shake. No, Luke wasn’t hurt? Or no, he didn’t understand?
“Is Master Luke hurting right now?” he tried. Grogu thought for a while, furrowing his little brow, and then shook his head again. Then, to Din’s amazement, he pulled himself up and laid one little hand over Luke’s heart.
Din rested his head in his hands. He was out of his depth. Luke needed a kind of help he couldn’t figure out. Grogu was strong with the Force, and apparently getting stronger, but he was a kid . He was going to have to call for backup.
Who would know something, or anything , that could heal a Jedi? Who could he trust?
-
He’d spoken to Luke’s sister only a handful of times, and only over holograms. Fortunately, her contact was saved in Luke’s transmitter. R2 put him through from the command center.
“It’s Luke, isn’t it,” she said, as soon as she saw it was Din calling and not her brother. Din just nodded. “What’s wrong?”
“He had an accident,” said Din. “He’s not-- physically hurt-- it’s something else. I don’t know what to do,” he admitted.
“I’ll be there as soon as I can. Let’s see,” she said, half to herself, “it’ll be afternoon there-- Amilyn can handle the briefing-- Tomorrow morning.”
Din allowed himself a breath of something approaching relief. “Thank you, General.”
“Leia,” she said, “please. You’re practically family.” Even on the other side of a holotransmitter, her gaze was direct. “I know you’re taking care of him,” she said softly. “He’ll be all right.”
-
In the evening, it rained. Din could hear it from the hangar as he cleared space for a second ship to land. He ate by himself in the canteen, where the sound was only a background kind of static, watching the door the whole time as if someone else might come in at any moment.
He took dinner to Grogu, with another glass of milk and some plain bread to set aside in case Luke woke up again. He wouldn’t be unprepared a second time.
He’d seen so many different versions of Luke by now-- implacable knight, patient teacher, fearless pilot, loyal friend; the Jedi master who could move a starfighter with his mind and the Tatooine farm boy who laughed at his own ridiculous jokes. And they were each, somehow, still the true Luke, none of them contradictory-- all except this version, the exhausted young man asleep in the bed. It didn’t suit him, the sense of having been through entirely too much. Din wouldn’t have wished it on anyone, but especially not on Luke.
The sleeping quarters were further back in the base. He couldn’t hear the rain at all. He slept in Luke’s chamber again, back to the wall, facing the door.
-
4
-
He woke up from a dream he couldn’t remember. Everything felt stiff. It wasn’t long ago, he thought, he could sleep sitting up in his armor for a week at a time-- maybe it was the humidity. He stood up.
He was sure he’d put Grogu down in his creche, but at some point during the night the kid had made his way back onto the bed with Luke, where he was now sleeping contentedly. Din gave his head an absent pat before checking on Luke, his breathing, his pulse, his temperature.
At the touch of his hand, Luke woke up.
“Is there breakfast?” he said. “I could eat a tauntaun.”
Very carefully, so as not to wake Grogu, Din helped him sit up. “Here,” he said, passing him the bread. “If that stays down, I’ll get you something solid.”
He perched cautiously on the edge of the bed while Luke finished the bread and drank the blue milk-- he always claimed it was best at room temperature-- hardly daring to say anything.
“Do you know where you are?” he said at last.
“The old Alliance base on Yavin 4.” Luke peered at the empty glass as if willing it to refill itself.
“How do you feel?”
“ Hungry .”
“Right, you said.” Din hesitated. “And… do you know who I am?”
Luke smiled like the sun coming out after days of cloud cover. “You’re Din Djarin,” he said. “My youngling’s father. My partner.”
“Okay,” Din managed, “good. Uh.” His head felt light. Maybe he needed to eat too. “I’ll go-- get us some real food.”
“I’ll come with you--”
“You will not ,” said Din, almost relieved to have a reason to be firm. “You will stay right there and rest. Leia’s coming to see you today.”
“Oh, fine,” Luke said, “I guess you’ll tell her on me if I don’t.” He looked at Din conspiratorially. “Did you know she’s my sister?”
-
In the canteen Din hastily assembled a cold breakfast-- he didn’t dare take the time to stoke up the fire, not when Luke was awake and might need him. Need help. He loaded eggs, bread, some sort of jerky, some kind of fruit juice, onto a tray without really looking at any of it, and carried the lot of it back.
Luke was still awake, but the clouds seemed to have covered him again. He still sat up, but his eyes were half-closed, and he only glanced at the tray when Din set it down.
Din wanted to shake something. Every time he left Luke’s side, something changed. If Leia couldn’t help--
“Here,” he said, gently putting a bowl into Luke’s hands. “You’re still hungry, aren’t you? Go ahead, eat.”
“Yes,” said Luke, appearing to see the food for the first time. “You’re right. We’ll need all our strength when the Imperial fleet gets here.”
Dank farrik . At least he was eating. That was going to have to be good enough.
Grogu woke up just then, apparently at the mention of food, and reached for an egg. Din wasn’t hungry. He made himself take a few pieces of jerky anyway. Standing out in the corridor, he pushed his helmet up just enough to eat them, and immediately went back inside.
The alert of an incoming ship roused him some time later from a kind of fugue, where he sat in the chair watching Luke doze. He picked himself up. “Stay here,” he told the occupants of the chamber-- somewhat uselessly, Luke wasn’t going anywhere, and he didn’t think rampaging mudhorns would convince the child or the droid to leave him.
He didn’t know what kind of ship he expected a princess-turned-general to arrive in, but what he saw in the hangar was a small utilitarian transport, not unlike the repurposed one he was using these days. In the cockpit he could just make out a pair of pilot droids.
The hatch ramp descended. The woman who emerged was alone.
“General,” he greeted her.
She gave him a look. It was a familiar look, on a different face. “Mand’alor.”
“Fine,” said Din, holding up his hands, “point taken. This way.”
Come to it, he didn’t know what he’d expected from Leia herself either. She seemed… sensible. The solo ship spoke well of her, he thought, as did her practical clothes-- she’d dressed for Yavin weather, with good sturdy boots and her hair braided out of the way. And she walked through the base corridors as if it were still active, as if the Alliance had never left. He knew almost nothing about royalty-- yes, ironic-- but he recognized the marks of a good commander.
“Tell me what’s happened,” she said as they walked.
Din explained what he knew; the accident, the rescue, Luke’s sporadic recovery. “One minute he’s fine,” he said, “the next he-- comes unstuck. He recognizes me, but then… It’s like he knows where he is, but--”
“But not when?” Leia finished.
Din paused at the door. “Do you think you can help him?”
Leia looked up into his visor with that steady gaze. “I think I can.”
Luke smiled again when he saw them enter. It really was incredible-- he lit up as if from within, a smile that suffused his entire being. Leia rushed to him immediately, all decorum forgotten, sat herself on the bed, hugged him ferociously. Din’s chest felt tight.
“And you must be Grogu,” she said, when they broke apart. The kid babbled happily and waved his hands at her. She gave him a very dignified nod in return, but there was a smile on her face. “I’m honored to meet you, young one.”
“All right, kid, let’s get out of their way.” Din moved in to pick up Grogu, then backed away again. “R2?” The droid gave two low tones, shaking his dome resolutely.
“I’ll take this one outside,” he said. “We won’t be far, if-- if you need anything.”
-
It was still raining. Grogu pouted at first about being carried away, but he seemed content enough to splash in the puddles and chase water bugs, getting another robe muddy. Din sat down and watched him stalk the jumping insects for some time. Although their leaps were erratic, Grogu observed them carefully, waiting… and then, once or twice, Din could have sworn he saw the kid’s little hand shoot out to catch the bug before it had completed its arc.
“He’s very talented,” said Leia’s voice, somewhere above him. Only his training allowed him not to startle. Either Din had been more absorbed than he thought, or she moved very quietly. He started to get to his feet, but she waved him off, sitting down next to him on the entry steps instead.
“I never knew Master Yoda myself,” Leia continued, watching Grogu splash into another puddle. “Luke says he was the wisest and most powerful of the Jedi. Your youngling could be a great master himself someday.”
“Luke also says he was very odd.”
Leia gave him a half-smile. “Have you ever met a Jedi who wasn’t?”
“How is he?” said Din. “Will he be all right?”
“He’s not in any danger,” Leia responded. “He’s just… a long way off.”
“Is it--” he hesitated-- “a Force thing?”
For a moment, she seemed to look through him. “You’re not a bit Force-sensitive, are you?”
“Me?” Din shrugged and nodded his head sideways toward Grogu. “Before him, I would have said it didn’t exist.”
“Then this might take some explaining.” Leia smiled. Where Luke’s smile was the sun, hers was the moon. “Luke’s sleeping. I’ll help you clean the kid up if you help find me some lunch.”
-
“Think of the Force,” explained Leia, “as an ocean.”
“Wet?” said Din, offhand, as he worked at the hearth. It was the most effort he’d put into a meal since he arrived.
He heard Leia give an unprincesslike snort of laughter. “No, I’m sorry,” he said. “I’m listening. An ocean?”
“It’s easy enough to see the waves,” she continued, “or even track the tides. And you can go into the shallows without too much danger. But it has-- depths. Currents you might not expect. The further out you go, the more power there is to harness, but it’s much more dangerous. If you’re not trained, or if you’re not careful--”
“You can get pulled down,” Din finished, when Leia didn’t.
“No one knows how far it’s possible to go in the Force,” she said, as if pulling the words up from a great depth herself. “Those who go the deepest into it, it-- changes them.”
Luke had never spoken much about their father. But Din knew enough.
“Is that what’s happening to Luke?” he said, trying not to let worry show in his voice.
“No, not exactly.” Leia sighed. “How do I explain it? He--” She frowned and seemed to lapse into thought.
Din gave her time to think. He ladled the stew he’d made into bowls, one for her and a smaller one for Grogu. The rest he could set aside to eat later.
“Thanks,” Leia said, when he slid the bowl across to her. “Listen, has Luke told you why he came back here?”
“Not in so many words. There’s space, and he knows the system.”
“That’s part of it. We knew this place when it was the Alliance base. Of course we weren’t ready, there was the war, we had everything at stake, but it shaped who we were-- who we are now. Especially Luke.” She stirred the stew reflectively. “He had to go through so much in such a short time. And when it was over… well, we go back to what we know.”
Din thought of the battle he still saw whenever he watched the forge, the shots he heard instead of the hammer, the hidden hatch beneath the trapdoor instead of the smelting pit. “He sees it,” he said. “When something reminds him.”
“You understand,” said Leia. From her expression, Din thought she did, too.
“And the Force…?”
“It’s easy for the currents to carry him away. Sometimes, when he sees the past, he is there.”
“It’s happened before?”
“And it may again. I know,” she said, “it’s hard to watch, but it always passes.”
Reliving the war? The Death Star? Din was young then, and Luke would have been barely more than a boy. The weight of it hung over him, like the debris field hanging above the moon, almost tangible in the air.
“So how do we fix it?”
Leia gave a short, startled laugh. “ Fix it? Oh, I see why he likes you-- but if I knew that, I’d be a healer, not a general.”
Din spread his hands. “Then what do I do ? I don’t know a thing about the Force--”
“Well, maybe that’s a good thing,” Leia said. “You can be-- solid ground. There’s a bond between you. You, and this young one, you’re something he can come back to.”
She reached across the table to rest her hand on his arm, just briefly. “We might not ever stop seeing the past. But we can make a present worth living in.”
As if with deliberate timing, Grogu chose that moment to flip his empty bowl over with a clatter. “Okay, I know you could have caught that,” Din told him. Grogu looked back, unrepentant.
“Why don’t I take him,” said Leia, “and you can eat. I bet you haven’t been feeding yourself properly.”
Din couldn’t argue. He hadn’t been.
Leia picked up Grogu in one arm, quite competently, and her bowl with the other hand. “I’d better not see you until you’ve had at least one bowl,” she said, mock-stern. “And as for you, youngling, I may not be a Jedi, but I know enough to give you some practice.”
-
He found them, eventually, in the training court, sitting opposite each other in poses of meditation. At least, Leia was. Grogu wiggled and shifted from time to time, clearly trying to stay awake, but the attempt was admirable. Not wanting to interrupt, Din stood just inside the door and watched them.
It wasn’t long before Grogu gave a colossal yawn, wide enough to startle him out of his meditation. He shook his little head, ears flapping. Din found himself impressed. He hadn’t thought it was still possible to tire the kid out.
“Well, I guess we’re done,” said Leia, opening her eyes. Din went over to offer her a hand up from the floor where they sat.
“How are you feeling?” she said as she stood.
“Better,” Din said, caught off guard, “thank you, Gen-- uh-- Leia.” He bent down to pick up Grogu, covering. Leia had the good grace to pretend not to notice.
“Will you be staying the night?” he said. “I can get quarters ready--”
“Oh, thank you for the offer, but I’ll have to be getting back soon.” She shrugged. “The transport’s good when I don’t want to be noticed, but it’s not very fast.”
“You should get some rest too,” she said, as they walked back toward Luke’s chamber.
“I have been,” said Din.
Leia just raised an eyebrow at him. Din left the subject alone.
Luke was still sleeping, with R2 stationed beside him, watchful as ever. Leia sat down carefully on the edge of the bed.
“Luke,” she said softly. “I have to go now.”
He stirred, just enough to open his eyes halfway, and murmured something Din couldn’t quite hear.
“Tell him yourself,” Leia replied, with a smile. She leaned forward and kissed his forehead.
Din busied himself with putting Grogu down in his creche, as if he could intrude on the twins’ shared moment simply by seeing it. It was all suddenly-- not too much, it could never be too much, but a lot. The efforts of the past several days collected all at once and settled on his shoulders.
“Thank you,” he heard Leia say behind him. “For calling me.”
He turned back. “I should be thanking you,” he said. “If I can ever do anything for you--”
“When he gets his ship out, you can make him come for a visit,” said Leia. “Tell him it’s his turn now.”
“Come on, R2,” she said to the droid, “I want to borrow you before I go. I think the navigation charts on the transport are a little out of date.”
R2 gave a hesitant beep, swiveling his dome toward Luke. “It’s all right,” Leia told him, looking back at Din. “He’s in good hands.”
Din watched them go. The chamber door closed quietly behind him.
Oh, he was tired. He sat down on the bed. He removed one glove, checked Luke’s breathing, his pulse, his temperature. All fine. He started to get up again--
“Stay with me,” Luke murmured, catching Din’s hand in his metal one.
Din looked down at him. His eyes were only just half-open, but even that sliver of blue was enough to pin him to the spot. “I have been,” he said again.
“That’s not what I mean.” His voice was so quiet. Din caught himself instinctively leaning forward to hear. And then he realized what Luke did mean, and he froze.
“Okay,” he heard himself say. “I’ll stay.”
The bed was big enough to fit two, just about. He stood up. There was a rack for his armor, in the quarters he usually used, but this room had a specific gravity now from which he was unwilling to break. He removed the pieces carefully and set them one by one in the chair instead, in the same order as always, pauldrons, cuirass, gauntlets and cuisses. Then he hesitated-- but Luke was asleep, and the child was asleep, and he was so, so tired.
Hardly breathing, feeling each tiny movement of the air on his skin, he set his helmet next to the bed.
Din laid back, on top of the cover, sure it would feel strange, amazed that it didn’t. Luke settled into him as if it were the most natural thing in the world.
He brushed the hair back from Luke’s face, tentative, half-expecting him come to his senses at any moment. But he didn’t wake, only sighed a little in his sleep.
“Come back,” Din whispered. He rested his forehead against Luke’s, skin to skin, touching only barely, and for a moment that point of contact between them was all that existed. “Come back to me.”
-
5
-
Din woke up, gently drifting into consciousness, like a bubble rising to the surface of the water. Despite the cover between them, Luke had still managed to wrap himself around him during the night.
It could have been strange. It had been… longer than he would have cared to describe, since he’d last held another person. And yet, somehow, it was exactly right, having Luke in the circle of his arms, his head tucked onto Din’s chest, sandy hair brushing his chin. Force or no Force, while they slept a door had opened between them. It was unthinkable, now, that it had ever been closed.
Luke stirred a little and mumbled something that wasn’t quite a word. Din’s heart jumped. “Luke?” he said softly.
“Mmh. ‘m awake,” Luke said, into his chest.
“How do you feel?”
“Much better now.” He started to look up, to give Din his sunshine smile, and then hastily closed his eyes and ducked his head again, laughing. “I thought I dreamed it,” he said. “Do you want to put it back on?”
“Hm,” said Din, holding him a little closer, “not yet. I like this.”
“All right, I won’t look.” He could still feel Luke smiling against his chest. “How long has it been?”
“Five days today.”
“Oh no,” Luke said, “that’s your whole visit--”
“I don’t care,” said Din.
“They’ll be expecting you on Mandalore--”
“I don’t care,” Din repeated. “I’ll stay as long as you need me.”
“Oh,” said Luke. “Well. That might be a while.”
“As long as you need me,” Din said.
You know,” Luke said, after a little while, “I’ve been waiting for you to realize how I feel about you. If I’d known all I had to do was park my ship in a swamp--”
“ Luke --”
“--I would have done it months ago.” Din could feel him laughing again, and he was somewhat surprised to find himself laughing a little too.
“Luke,” he said. “Look at me.”
Luke started to raise his head, then hesitated. Gently, but firmly, Din placed a hand under his chin, and tilted his face up to look into his.
He held his gaze, steady, deep brown for bright blue, as if memorizing every detail, knowing Luke was doing the same. “If you ever,” he said, with all the seriousness he could muster, “do that again, I will leave you to drown.”
Then he bent his own head down and, lightly, carefully, deliberately, brushed a kiss against his lips.
Luke made a very soft sound of surprise. For a moment he looked at Din in wonder, then he kissed him again, thorough, but just as careful.
It was the softest touch and it was an electric pulse humming between them. Every nerve sang, and yet somehow all he wanted to think about was where their lips met. It bordered on too much and it wasn’t nearly enough.
“We’ll have to--” he started.
“Go slowly,” Luke finished, “I know.” He raised his metal hand to Din’s face and, after he’d nodded his consent, laid his fingers gently along his cheek.
“All the time you need,” he said.