Chapter Text
The first time that Greem and Tamlin meet, they’re both taking ballet lessons on a backwater planet called Vernin. Greem is four, almost five, and the six-year-old Zabrak that she meets is going by the name Juhani at the time. Later, she will learn his real name. For now, Juhani is as real as anything in her life.
“I made a new friend today, Synox!” Greem says, enthusiastically shoving her ballet clothes into her backpack.
“It’s Dad,” Synox says gently, fighting down the urge to glance around at the other parents and kids milling out of the dance studio. “Remember?”
“Oh, yeah,” Greem says, nodding. “I made a new friend today, Dad!”
Synox lets his shoulders relax a little. Greem still calls them all by their real names at home, but in public they have to be more careful. Synox just wanted to make up a fake name, but Aava insisted he go with Dad if he was going to be the one taking Greem out to her ballet lessons. Adoption isn’t uncommon in the galaxy—a Rodian calling the human taking her to class Dad would raise the fewest eyebrows, Aava said.
Every time Greem calls him Dad , something inside of him twists sharply. He loves it. He feels like he doesn’t deserve it.
He leans down and scoops Greem up into his arms once she has her backpack slung over her shoulder. He settles her against his hip, and she laughs and buries her face against his shoulder.
He loves this little Rodian so much it makes his heart ache.
“You can tell me all about your new friend on the way home, okay?” he says, carrying her out of the studio towards his speeder parked outside.
“Okay,” Greem says, lifting her head from his shoulder. Then her big shining eyes widen, and she points eagerly over Synox’s shoulder. “Oh! That’s him! Hi, Juhani!”
Synox turns to see a small Zabrak child waving enthusiastically across the parking platform. Behind the child stands an adult Rodian with long braided hair, and for a brief moment, Synox’s heart stops.
The names Tamlin Jorun and Leenik Geelo flash unbidden through Synox’s head. It’s been almost a year since the crew of the Bluebird stopped following the Mynock’s trail, since their duty to protect Greem eclipsed any desire they’d had to take in the little Zabrak and his guardians.
Aava has made contact with the Mynock crew exactly once in the past year—she asked them how they’ve kept Tamlin hidden in the Force for so long, and they offered her their answer in exchange for their freedom. Aava learned the secrets of the ysalamiri, and the Mynock crew disappeared from their radar.
There is no reason for that crew to be here, on Vernin, this tiny planet where the Bluebird crew have settled for a few quiet months until they decide to pick up and restart before anyone scents their trail. In such a huge galaxy, when both crews are trying their best not to be found, there is almost no chance that they have ended up on the same out-of-the-way planet.
But that doesn’t stop Synox’s mind from grinding to a halt at the sight of a little Zabrak and his Rodian guardian.
Of course, as the Zabrak and Rodian approach, it becomes clear that they aren’t Tamlin and Leenik. The Zabrak has no tattoos, just smooth deep-grey skin, not Tamlin’s tattooed pale white. He’s not even Dathomirian—without the tattoos, he’s clearly Iridonian. And the Rodian’s skin is yellow-brown, sprinkled with orange freckles that match the fiery colour of his long braids. Even so, Synox’s eyes flick down to the Rodian’s hands. Both natural, no black metal prosthetic.
Of course it’s not Tamlin and Leenik. Synox shakes his head as if to clear the thought away. Of course.
“Hi, Greem!” says the Zabrak—Juhani, not Tamlin—as he approaches. “Is this your dad?”
“Uh-huh!” Greem says, wiggling in Synox’s arms. He sets her down and she grabs Juhani’s wrist to pull him closer to Synox’s side. “He’s the best.”
Synox’s heart grows warmer and fuzzier.
Juhani blinks up at Synox.
“He looks like my uncle,” Juhani says, and Synox’s heart stutters.
He’s started to grow out a beard in the past year, although it’s never quite even, with the deep scar that reaches down his cheek. He wears an eyepatch over his cybernetic eye in public, and a thick knit hat pulled down low over his ears. Still, it’s impossible to hide the fact that he’s a clone from anyone who’s ever met one up close.
Bacta, Synox thinks foolishly, even though he knows this kid isn’t Tamlin.
Greem’s mouth opens in an excited O.
“Maybe your uncle and my dad are brothers!” Greem says, clapping. “My dad has a lot of brothers.”
“Um, Juhani, remember what we said about Uncle Ordo?” the Rodian says, wringing his hands with poorly concealed nervousness. “He likes his privacy, right?”
“Oh. Right,” Juhani says, glancing away guiltily. “Sorry, Mr. Port.”
The Rodian chuckles nervously and rubs the back of his neck.
“Kids, right?” the Rodian says, glancing up at Synox.
“Kids,” Synox agrees. He doesn’t know what this family’s situation is—he isn’t going to ask. But if there’s a clone that this kid calls his uncle, then that clone is probably trying to keep just as low a profile as Synox is. The galaxy has never been kind to clones, and certainly isn’t now—Synox doesn’t blame this Uncle Ordo for wanting his privacy.
“I’m Behot,” Synox says, using the fake name he’d come up with before Aava insisted he use Dad. He offers his hand to the Rodian to shake.
“Bindo Port,” the Rodian says, taking his hand. “And this here is my… friend’s kid. Juhani, say hi to Behot.”
“Hi, Behot!” Juhani says, immediately recovering from his guilt.
“How long have you been taking ballet lessons, kid?” Synox asks, leaning down to get closer to the kid’s height. He’s small, but much bigger than Greem, maybe a year or two older than her.
“I just started!” Juhani says excitedly. “Well, my uncles have been teaching me for a while at home, but I just started here. The teacher says I’m really good.”
He puffs out his chest proudly, and Greem is looking at him, eyes glittering in awe. These kids are too young to have crushes, right? Oh Force, Synox isn’t ready for that part of parenting.
“Well, we should be getting home, right, Juhani?” Bindo Port says, patting the Zabrak’s horned head. “Uncle Carth is making ham for dinner.”
“Blehh,” Juhani whines. “Uncle Carth’s ham is terrible . Can we go to Space McDonald’s instead? Pleasseee?”
“No, we—”
“Oh, Dad, can we go to Space McDonald’s?” Greem interrupts, turning to Synox with wide, begging eyes. “Please? ”
Synox and Bindo exchange one desperate look, but they both know they’ve already lost.
Which is how the four of them end up at Space McDonald’s twenty standard minutes later, sitting on cracked vinylplast seats, eating porg nuggets and fries.
“So, Bindo… have you lived on Vernin long?” Synox asks awkwardly, making a desperate attempt at parental small talk while the kids play space battle with the toy gunships that came with their meals.
For a second, Bindo balks, and Synox worries that he’s said something wrong. He doesn’t know how to do this. He knows how to be a soldier, and now, because of Greem, he’s learning how to be a dad. But he has no idea how to be a civilian, how to have a normal conversation in an oily fastfood joint on a tiny planet in a tiny system that wasn’t even mentioned in GAR training.
But then Bindo shakes his head, shrugging. “No, we’ve only been here for a few weeks. My family… we travel a lot,” he says.
If they have a clone in their family, Synox can only imagine the circumstances they might be running from.
He nods. “Mine, too,” he says.
At that, Bindo smiles, a little upturning of his small Rodian mouth. “It’s good for Juhani to make a friend,” he says, nodding at the kids. They’re chasing each other around the table now, making pew pew noises as they race their little ships. “He doesn’t get to meet a lot of kids his own age, with our lifestyle. Probably the same for Greem, huh?”
Synox snorts a small laugh. “You have no idea.”
This is, in fact, the first time that Greem has spent any length of time with kids her own age since Synox first met her, almost a year ago. From what she remembers of her life before that, it doesn’t sound like she had many kids around then, either.
Synox lets his shoulders relax as he watches Greem and Juhani play. There are many things about Synox’s childhood that he would never wish on Greem, but one thing that he never lacked was kids his own age. Synox has no childhood memories, and very few adult memories, of being alone. Until the dawn of the Empire, to be a clone was to be surrounded by brothers, to be one of many, to be together, to be loved.
He’s glad that Greem is still young enough that friendship comes to her easily, even with her lack of experience.
He’s slightly less glad when, half a standard hour later, he and Bindo try to separate the kids to take them home.
“But I don’t wanna go home,” Greem pouts, stamping her foot. “I wanna go home with Juhani! I wanna have a sleepover!”
“Yeah!” Juhani agrees, jumping around a flustered Bindo with uncontainable energy. “Sleepover! Sleepover!”
“Juhani—please—Uncle Ordo has already sent me twelve comm messages threatening to kill me if I don’t bring you home right now , I can’t—”
“Sleepover! Sleepover!” Juhani continues to chant, and Greem joins in, dancing around Bindo, too.
Bindo gives Synox a desperate look. He sighs and scoops a squirming Greem up into his arms.
“We have to go home, kiddo,” Synox says, pressing his forehead to hers. “Mom and your uncles probably miss you.”
Greem sighs miserably, as though Synox is forcing some terrible fate upon her. She turns to look back down at Juhani.
“Bye, Juhani,” she says sadly. “I have to go now.”
Juhani looks like he might cry. Synox feels like a monster.
“Okay,” Juhani says in a small voice, as Bindo puts a hand on his shoulder.
“You’ll see each other at dance class next week,” Bindo says reassuringly.
“Yeah, sure,” Juhani says, kicking the ground. He looks unconvinced.
“Hey,” Bindo says, nudging Juhani until he looks up at him. “You know we’re going to stay here for a while, right? We’re safe here.”
“You guys always say that,” Juhani whines, his eyes wide and shining. “But we never stay anywhere for long. Never, ever.”
Bindo looks like he’s going to argue, but then his eyes flick over to where Synox is still standing with Greem on his hip, and he seems to decide that this isn’t a conversation to have in public.
“Kids, am I right?” Bindo says again, laughing awkwardly.
Synox gives him his warmest smile. He doesn’t know what Juhani and Bindo’s situation is, but their plight is painfully relatable. He hopes, for the kid’s sake, that Bindo is right about their family being safe here, at least for a little while.
“Yeah,” Synox says. “Well. It was nice to meet you guys. See you next week?”
Bindo blinks at him for a moment, and then smiles. “Yeah. Next week.”