Chapter Text
Chapter 1: What is a Soulmate?
“A soulmate is not your only chance at everlasting and enriching love. However, if you have a Mark, there is another whose soul burns the same way yours does. If fate decides you should meet, what happens next is up to you.” - The Guidebook to Soulmates (pub. 2039, Motto)
There was a birthmark on Omera’s left wrist. It was the shape of a half circle and at the flat edge of the figure, there were four dots presented in the shape of a cross. The Mark was the shade of her skin and was visible to the human eye only when her heart rate lifted above resting rhythm.
Ten years ago, like many of the Bonded, her birthmark was a shade darker, outlined as if it were a tattoo. The outline had faded in one heartbreaking instant when the Bond was severed.
At first, her Mark burned like she’d been set on fire. Then came the muscle spasms and the pain in her wrist as it seized up. It wasn’t just her wrist that hurt- her entire being felt completely and utterly broken and heavy. She stopped what she was doing at the time, doubled over, and could barely breathe.
For months, she struggled to find any joy. She couldn’t eat. Couldn’t sleep. It was more than grieving, her therapist had told her with a sorrowful frown, it was literally as if part of her had died.
She found a way out of the dark when Winta was born. She could see hope in her soft breaths breathed between tiny lips and felt needed in the way her tiny fingers gripped onto hers so tightly. There was a sort of love that came with this new bond that was unlike anything she’d ever felt before.
A fair portion of children were born with a Mark, but Winta didn’t have one. It made her special, but more importantly, it meant she would never have to feel the pain of a lost Bond the same way Omera had.
They lived seven minutes from Omera’s office, in an apartment building that was mainly occupied by busy scientists and engineers.
She’d spent her years both in and out of college working at Falcon Aerospace Industries, on a project she’d grown up dreaming about being part of. It was finally on its way to its ultimate conclusion- and she was at the helm of the operation.
Omera grabbed her tablet as she stepped out of her office. She made her way down the hall, focused only on the messages she’d missed during her last meeting, and at her side, she heard her assistant, Fennec Shand, join her.
“We’re late...”
She sighed and tapped out a quick reply to her boss and longtime friend, Leia Organa. It was Leia’s hand that brought her to work here all those years ago, as a hope-filled college freshman with fresh ideas and inspiration that sent their industry on the path to where they were today.
Without looking up, she knew to turn down the hallway that would take them to the lift.
“We’re always late,” Omera replied easily. “I’d be more concerned if we were early.”
Fennec hummed. They both entered the lift and Omera lifted her focus off of her tablet to instead look out at the view through the glass box that surged them upwards.
There it was: her pride and joy. The ship meant for the stars was massive, but what was even more impressive was the tech inside of it that would make the mission work.
A year ago, they’d sent another ship just like this one out into space. That one had a small crew of about fifty attached. It was the second craft of theirs to have proved that the science was working- that space travel was more possible than it ever had been before.
The Razor Crest would be home to hundreds of souls for the next twenty years. In the end, they would find a place called the Outer Rim, and they would begin a new life on a new world there.
The Outer Rim was discovered over twenty years ago by a pair of kids with a passion for the stars and a lot of free time. Their discovery had sent the world reeling. Planets like ours existed elsewhere in the universe- with mountains and rivers and lush green trees.
There was so much hope in explorative curiosity. It was what drove Omera to push every day for the project to get finished- so that they would soon be able to know exactly what else was out there.
The lift doors opened. Fennec reached for the tablet and Omera passed it off before she stepped out onto the metal catwalk that looked down over the ship. She felt small even though she stared down at it from so high up.
She lifted her eyes away from the ship and instead onto the small office just a short distance away from the elevator. When she entered, she was met by two men in greasy coveralls.
One, she knew already. Boba Fett, the head engineer, had been part of the project for a long time before she’d entered the scene. Together, they had developed the prototype of the engine that would go on to become one of the greatest technological and scientific advancements of their lifetimes.
Next to Boba, there stood a man she was unacquainted with. He wore the engineering coveralls, but more interestingly: he wore a helmet that covered his face. There was a T-shaped visor that gave him the ability to see outward, but the metal frame was rigid and dark and didn’t allow any eyes to see inward.
He was Mandalorian.
They were a rare group, one who believed in concealing their Marks and remaining Unbonded. She had never met a Mandalorian before; had only seen them from afar, more often in fluff piece news stories that weaved a narrative that their people used their time charitably.
The Mandalorian who stood before her was tall, with broad shoulders and muscled arms that hung loosely at his sides. He gave her his full attention like he was a soldier in the army.
“Omera,” Boba nodded at her. “I was just telling our new hire that you tend to run late.”
She winced a little. “Well, we’re over a week behind on the build-”
Boba, who was several years her senior, lifted an eyebrow and tilted his head playfully.
“Building this ship is one of the largest projects we’ve ever undertaken. Being a week behind is far better than the alternative.” He gestured to his new hire. “But I don’t think you’re here to talk about semantics. I suspect you’re here to meet the new primary engineer.”
Omera smiled kindly. “I’m Omera. I’ve heard good things. Boba says you worked on Project Nevarro.”
The Mandalorian nodded his head once. “Din Djarin.” His voice was deep and made to sound slightly modulated from behind his helmet. “We wouldn’t have put it into orbit without your math.”
She tilted her head, unable to hide her bashful smile as her chest swelled with unbound pride. “That’s too kind. I was happy to lend the help.”
Boba looked between them with a wry grin. “I figured you two would get along.”
Omera laughed under her breath. She focused on the Mandalorian and nodded at him. “Welcome to the team, Din. We’re excited to have you on board.”
Fennec passed her the tablet again and she glanced down in time to see her daughter’s sweet, silly lopsided grin filled the left side of the screen and a message on the right that read: When will you be home tonight? Ms. Peli wants to know.
She looked up at the pair of men in front of her and held the tablet close to her chest. “Tomorrow morning, we have a meeting to go over the progress that’s been made over the past quarter. I assume Ms. Organa will be eager to see how close we are to reaching our next goals.”
Boba hummed. He gestured a thumb toward Din. “I was just about to walk him through that.”
“Good,” Omera replied with a grin. She met the Mandalorian’s eyes through his visor and dragged her teeth against her lower lip. “Well, I guess I’ll see you both tomorrow.”
There was a lingering heartbeat in which she waited, staring directly into the eyes of the mysterious man who hid behind a helmet.
Maybe it was simply because she couldn’t know what he looked like that she was so intrigued. She hadn’t met a Mandalorian before, and so far he was different than she expected.
Omera turned away, meeting Fennec’s slightly judgy eyes, before they slipped out of the work office and headed back toward the lifts.
“He was hunky.”
She looked at her assistant and gasped, laughter bubbling out just after. “Fennec.”
Fennec shrugged casually. Her pretty dark hair was tied in a braid that hung against her back. She wore a dark suit, with a duster jacket that hung by her knees. When she leaned forward to press the call button, the lift doors opened right away and they stepped inside.
“You don’t have to tell me,” her assistant murmured. “You don’t have time. Winta’s more than enough for you right now.” She held her hands together in front of her midsection. “When Leia asks you to go to the Outer Rim, you’ll have plenty of time then.”
Omera shook her head. “She won’t ask me to do that. We already agreed.”
She lifted the tablet and punched out a response to Winta’s question. Home by 6. Pizza?
“Keep telling yourself that…” Fennec trailed off. “I give it two weeks.”
-
Din Djarin was a Mandalorian.
The Mandalorian Way was to keep their Marks secret; to commit to a life of celibacy in lieu of pursuit of what many considered the most whole and fulfilling experience. Instead, Mandalorians engaged in charity.
As a child, his parents were taken from him in an accident. He was saved only because of the Mandalorian covert that welcomed him in with warm clothes, food, and a place to sleep. They taught him, trained him, and eventually, he committed to the Way.
Sometimes, the Way was difficult to follow. There were days, especially as a brooding hormonal teenager, that he thought about defying the Mandalorian Way by submitting his Mark to a database. There was never any guarantee that a database would bring back anything. Some people were born with a Mark, while others were not. Some had a Match. Some didn’t.
He chose this life, and even though it made him an object to ogle from afar, he was made all the stronger for it.
The job at Falcon Aerospace Industries was a dream come true. It was initially contracted for a year, but during the interview, Fett offered him the opportunity to be part of the mission crew. He took it in a heartbeat.
The Mandalorian mentor who had set him up on the interview had suggested that sending a Mandalorian to the Outer Rim would be the natural course of action; that the new world would need to have the same balance Mandalorians gave the world now.
Din took the long way home mostly out of curiosity. The company sponsored housing was located a short distance from the building dock. It was a tall complex, fully furnished with modest accommodations. It was a far better place to live than the alternatives he had.
The doors to the lobby were automatic. Inside, there was an elaborate ceiling light that could belong in a museum. On a wall that faced the lifts, video of local news played, mainly featuring the progress being made on Project Twin Suns, the very project he was a lead on.
Beyond the intricate lobby decor and lounging areas, Din made his way toward the back halls, where the sounds of children playing soon flooded his ears.
Most of the kids played on a playset that had been erected indoors, protected from the elements of the sticky Florida humidity and heat. He surveyed the playset for a few seconds, only to realize that the child he’d come for sat on the floor apart from the rest of the children.
With a soft sigh, Din entered the play area and knelt down beside the boy. He played with a ball that was just big enough to fit in his two-year-old palm. Upon sensing Din’s arrival, he looked up at him and smiled wide enough that he showed all of his teeth.
“Hey, buddy.”
The kid instantly flung his small arms around Din’s neck, having practically leapt straight off of the floor with sheer mental will. Din stumbled a little and soothed a hand against his lower back.
A laugh escaped his lips, unbridled, and he hoisted the boy upright with him when he stood. The toddler squealed with delight at the action and settled happily on Din’s hip.
“Did you have a good day?”
Grogu was in a lot of ways just like Din. They’d both lost their homes, their families, and were found by the Mandalorians. It wasn’t a group that found Grogu, however, rather it was Din who heard his sobs from beneath a cardboard box in an abandoned alleyway.
He had never wanted a child. There were services and procedures for children- places they could go that were safe. But Grogu had dark eyes that watered, and his little fingers gripped onto the fabric of his jacket when he tried to leave him in the arms of what he deemed a stranger.
It was a special kind of bond that he shared with Grogu, one built on trust. The local Mandalorian covert agreed that he would care for the boy in intervals, that the kid would get evaluated every few months to see if he was ready to move forward.
He could only extend the length of his guardianship as long as he was on Earth. When he left for the Outer Rim, then they would have to say goodbye. He hoped by then that the boy would feel safe enough around other Mandalorians to be left behind.
As Din walked Grogu out of the play room, he spotted a familiar face: Omera. His boss, the lead director of the project.
She was just as pretty as she had been when they met, with her long dark hair let loose around her shoulders. At her side, there was a girl of about ten who peered up at her with affection as Omera laughed enough that her eyes crinkled in the corners.
Omera held a box of pizza in one hand and wrapped her other arm around the girl, who must have been her daughter.
When Din approached the pair, it was out of necessity. They were waiting for the elevator just like he was.
Omera’s eyes lit up at the sight of him and a warm, kind smile filled her face.
“Din,” she said with polite surprise. “Hi. It’s nice to see you again.”
He felt the kid’s grabby fingers on the base of his helmet, tugging it as if he wanted to pull it off. Din stopped the action with a gentle touch and held the fingers while he focused on his new boss.
The girl at Omera’s side gasped loudly and waved at the toddler on Din’s hip. “Hi, friend!”
Grogu turned at the sound of her voice. Surprising Din, he spoke. “Hi.”
Almost instantly, like he regretted saying anything, he buried his face into Din’s neck and hid there. The girl giggled happily.
“Mama, that’s my new friend,” she explained to Omera.
Omera’s smile widened. Gently, she held onto her daughter’s arm and tilted her head toward the girl. “This is my daughter, Winta.”
Din nodded in understanding. “This is Grogu.”
The elevator dinged, alerting its arrival, and Din waited for the girls to enter it before him. Omera pressed the button that would take them to the ninth floor, which was his destination as well.
It seemed that he and Omera were going to see a lot more of one another.
As the elevator moved upward, he caught his superior eyeing him subtly. She then handed the pizza box to her daughter.
“Boba told me that you were working on the bridge today,” Omera told him. “He said you fit right in.”
Din smiled to himself. “I was in the Space Corps before Project Nevarro.”
Her eyes twinkled and she opened her mouth to reply, but Winta looked up at him and spoke instead.
“Mama was in the Space Corps. Right, Mama?”
Omera’s laughter was soft. She pressed a hand to her daughter’s back and turned to look at Din more fully.
“I was… for a little while,” she admitted. “I never went to space, though. Did you?”
Din nodded. “Did a full year.”
The elevator slowed to a stop on their floor and again he waited for the girls to take the lead. As they slowly made their way up the hall from the lifts, Din took notice of the way Omera tucked her hair behind her ears.
He caught a glimpse of her Mark. It was on her wrist, obscured slightly by the movement, but he thought he could make out a half circle.
“So you’ll be joining the crew to the Outer Rim,” she deduced carefully.
“I hope so.”
Omera hummed. She looked at Grogu, who rested his cheek on Din’s shoulder and gripped a firm fist in his jacket.
They slowed to a stop at Winta’s lead. She held the pizza box out toward him.
“Do you want some pizza?”
Din was surprised by the question, but more surprised by the boldness with which Winta spoke.
Omera was more cautious than her daughter was. She looked up at him and gave a nervous half-smile.
“If you’d like, you’re welcome to join us,” she offered. Her focus settled on the toddler. “Does Grogu like pizza?”
At the mention of his name, and pizza, Grogu finally perked up.
Din looked at the kid. He had dark hair, much like his own, which had become matted and mussed from a day full of activity. One of his hands was still stuck around Din’s leather jacket.
“He only likes cheese.”
Omera’s eyes brightened. “Us too.”
Winta turned toward the door to the apartment and it opened upon recognizing her face. Then, she was off, running down the entry hall toward what was likely the kitchen.
The girl’s mother laughed. “I don’t know where she gets all the energy.”
They both lingered while he tried to make up his mind about whether or not he wanted to join them. It felt almost necessary at this point. Grogu had finally, apparently, made a friend. Omera was his boss. They were neighbors separated by just a few doors.
He nodded at Omera as he made his way into her home. The layout was similar to his, with an entry hall that led straight into the kitchen and living area. She had a table in the spot between the two, where Winta had set the box.
For a few seconds, things were quiet as Winta and Omera settled in and prepared for supper. Din put the kid down in a chair and awkwardly lingered as if he could do something to help- but it was just pizza, and this wasn’t his house.
“Um…” Winta suddenly stopped. She looked at Din and twisted her lips thoughtfully as a crease found her brow. “Din?”
He nodded. “Yes?”
The girl stared at him, quiet, and then glanced over at her mother like she could telepathically will her to ask what question she must have had.
Winta’s voice became small, nervous, and she seemed almost like she wanted to hide. “How come you’re wearing a helmet?”
“I’m Mandalorian,” he explained. “It’s part of my religion.”
Winta seemed relieved. She nodded slowly as Omera came to the table to set a stack of plates down.
“I’ve never met a Mandalorian before,” the girl told him. “What does the helmet do?”
He sat at the table, diagonally from Grogu, who pushed up on his knees with eyes set on the pizza box.
“We believe in keeping our Soul Marks hidden, so we don’t allow anyone to see any of our skin.”
Omera opened the pizza box and scooped out a slice that she set down in front of Grogu.
“Be careful,” she warned. “It’s hot.”
Din focused on the kid, how he analyzed the plate in front of him before he gingerly poked the crust.
“I don’t have a Soul Mark,” Winta shared with a sigh. “Mama says it makes me special, but it doesn’t feel very special…”
Omera shook her head as she gave Winta her slice of cheese pizza. “Your soul is so bright and beautiful that it couldn’t leave just one mark. You are your mark.”
Winta’s frown immediately faded and a big smile filled her face instead.
Satisfied, Omera turned to look at Din. “I’ll make sure we send you home with a slice or two.”
It wasn’t often that Din interacted with such kindness. Most of the time, he was looked at as a social outcast- even if he was just as valuable to daily life as anyone else was. His beliefs made him different- they didn’t make him weak.
“Thank you. I appreciate that.”
She smiled and gave herself a single slice before she sat down opposite him at the table. As she bit into the pizza, he caught another surprising glimpse of her Mark.
It was a half circle beside four dots that made the shape of a cross.
Birthmarks on their skin didn’t mean anything. The ideal of having a Match- a True Bond- was a distraction. That was what the Mandalorians believed, at least.
Before he met his found family, he was raised by his parents, a Bonded couple who believed not just in their Bond, but in the possibilities of what good that Bonded pairings could do in the world. They were good Samaritans in their own ways, always helping and giving even when they had nothing.
He often lay awake at night comparing the charitable works of the Mandalorians on a wide scale, in their unattached manner, and what his parents, two of the warmest souls he’d ever known, had done out of the back of a food truck.
As much as he wanted to believe that his parents were right, that their Bond had made them better people, he could also see the point of remaining celibate and offering help to those who needed it as a selfless deed.
Din looked away from Omera and watched Grogu scarf down the slice of pizza.
“Slow down, kid,” Din instructed the boy.
Grogu looked over at him with his eyes blown wide as saucers, caught in the act, before he did as he was told. Little victories like this with the kid sometimes felt much bigger than they were.
“What did you learn today, Winta?”
Winta hummed thoughtfully. Then, she gasped loudly and sat upright. “We learned about your mission!”
Omera seemed surprised. “My mission?”
“Yeah! You helped send the ship to the Outer Rim. There was a whole movie we watched- and you were in it!”
She laughed and glanced toward him, seeking out a companion in what must have felt like her two worlds meeting in the most bizarre way.
There was a small noticeable apprehension in her expression. It was accompanied by a faded smile and a flicker of grief in her eyes.
Suddenly, he wished he could know more.
Omera was quick to recover and change subjects. Her smile now felt somewhat forced in the understanding that she had suffered a heavy loss.
He was left to imagine what that loss looked like, and could piece together that it was likely Winta’s father- gone before Winta was old enough to remember or feel the same pain.
“Is it just you and Grogu?” Omera asked.
They stood in the kitchen while the kids played, giggling and yelling with sheer delight, just a few feet away in the living room.
He watched Grogu for a few seconds. A deep belly laugh bubbled out of Grogu's core being and his face turned bright red while he struggled to breathe through it. The kid hadn’t ever laughed like he did just then. Not only had the kid made a friend- he felt safe with Winta and Omera.
When Din turned to face Omera, she smiled softly with her attention set on the children. There wasn’t any expectation in their conversation. She was just kind.
“Yeah. Just us.”
She nodded and glanced up at him for a beat before she returned to the dishes.
“He seems happy. You’re doing a good job.”
Din hadn’t realized how much he needed to hear someone tell him that. Caring for the toddler was a challenge. He always felt like he was just getting by.
“I… don’t know what I’m doing.”
Omera flashed him a genuine smile and turned toward him with a plate in hand. She passed it to him and their fingertips brushed just enough to elicit an unfamiliar feeling deep within his chest- and below his ear.
“Nobody knows,” she told him. “As long as their needs are met, as long as they’re happy… I think we’ve done our job.” Omera tilted her head and he met her eyes after placing the plate in the drying rack. “Though sometimes that’s easier said than done.”
Din laughed under his breath. “Right.”
When the dishes were finished, Grogu seemed to grow tired of all the fun. He wrapped his arms around Din’s leg and hid his face against his side. Din scooped the boy up and settled him on his hip, where he clung like he always did.
“Okay?” Din asked.
The kid mumbled nonsense into his neck.
With a sigh, Din turned to Omera and Winta. “Thank you for the pizza.”
Omera nodded. “Any time. You’re always welcome to come by.”
Winta waved at him and Grogu. “Bye, Grogu. I had so much fun playing games.”
Grogu surprised Din when he sat upright and smiled at his friend. He scrunched his fingers in a wave.
Omera’s eyes widened and she gasped softly. “Oh, I meant to give you some pizza to take home.”
Before anything else could be said or done, she grabbed some pizza for him and the instant she extended it out for him to take, he saw the birthmark on her wrist again. This time, it was more clear than before.
A half circle. Four dots in the shape of a cross.
Her eyes were kind when he looked into them. She gave him a delicate smile.
“See you tomorrow,” she said lightly. “Big meeting.”
Din took the pizza from her, unable to keep from smiling even if she couldn’t see it. “Thanks. See you then.”
With a final wave from Winta to bid them farewell for the evening, Din carried Grogu out of the apartment and toward theirs just a few doors down.
Once they were inside, Din felt relief flood his system. It was always difficult to start a new job, and today had been no different.
Grogu happily toddled away when Din set him down on the floor, going straight into the living room where his favorite toys were nestled within a toy bin.
It was against the Way to remove his helmet for anyone, including children. Grogu had never seen his face, and he likely never would.
With the kid distracted by playtime, Din walked up the hallway to the bathroom that they shared. The bathtub was littered in bath toys, and Grogu’s frog hooded towel hung from the rung beside his plain white one.
His life had very quickly become all about the kid. He wasn’t sure if that was a good thing or a bad thing.
Din gently lifted his helmet from his head and set it down on the bathroom sink’s countertop, right beside the box of pizza that Omera had given him.
He grabbed his cold slice of pizza and chewed on a bite as he looked into the mirror, curious to see just one thing.
Just beneath his right ear, there was the faintest outline of his birthmark. His heart rate picked up as he looked at it, which made the visual clearer.
A half circle. Four dots in the shape of a cross.
Just like Omera.