Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

“Din,

I found something. I’ll have to be away from the school for a while. Will you—”

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—

[Message deleted]

Din entered his rooms and set his plate of food almost carelessly on the desk as he moved around it, pausing to flick on the elaborate communication system built into the table so it could warm up. As it began to hum softly he walked over to the other side of the central room where his new weapons locker sat. He removed some of the weapons off his person—his blaster, a few vibroknives, his secondary blaster—and looked each one over for signs of wear or grime before placing them carefully in their designated storage drawer. He still had mixed feelings about how…elaborate it all was, preferring something more practical, but it had been a gift on behalf of the Mand’tsad’alorir on the second anniversary of the retaking of Sundari and so who was he to really turn it away.

With a portion of his weapons inspected and tucked away he reached up and unclipped his cloak from his shoulders. It was a similar style to the one he’d worn during his bounty hunter days but a deep red instead of charcoal and with a line of fur along the length of the right side. Bo-Katan had been the one to insist he update at least some of his kit after accepting the position of Mand’alor, but agreed the longer cape he wore for more official state matters and diplomatic meetings was unnecessary for day-to-day. The one he wore during the work day was a more practical compromise and he could admit it wasn’t too bad as he draped it over his currently empty armor stand. He also took the opportunity to unclip his jetpack and put it away before crossing back toward his desk. He tried not to take work back to his private quarters anymore, but it still tended to accumulate around the station nevertheless and he had to move around a few datapads he still needed to address—Clan petitions, a missive from the Duchess, another comment on the proposal for that damned intercity road—to the side and unclipped the Darksaber from his waist as he sat down, setting it beside one of the display screens with a light clink.

Din was not one for the idea of miracles. Or fate, or destiny; things simply were or they weren’t. He found little comfort in the idea that there was some great plan of the universe guiding every sentient’s path and actions. Similarly, he placed little faith in luck as well. After all, while tracking bounties his own personal stroke of fortune had often been someone else’s devastating loss. He had never found either side of those interactions more or less noble, more or less righteous in either his or the target he’d been pursuing’s goals. They had been only opposite sides of a conflict. In places where his skills gave him an advantage, he took it. In places where he was at the disadvantage, he was cautious. Everything else simply was.

There was plenty of people in his life who looked at such things differently he knew—especially when looking at Din’s life in particular. And really, who with any belief in a destiny wouldn’t ascribe it to the events that led him to finding Grogu that day? To him facing Moff Gideon and winning the Darksaber on that Imperial Cruiser? To him becoming the Mand’alor and successfully (so far at least) reuniting the scattered Mando’ade and bringing them back to Mandalore? To many, it sounded as fantastical as any other tale sung ‘round a campfire; of ancient heroes and righteous quests. As long as one neglected to mention the year long gap between him acquiring the Darksaber and him claiming any sort of authority as Mand’alor, he considered wryly.

To Din it simply…was.

Not to say he wasn’t eternally grateful to have found Grogu. That he had been the one to take that particular bounty and be successful in it. But the important parts, the ones that Din actually cared about and placed value in, were the actions he had chosen in response to that chance meeting. It wasn’t an accident of fate that made him keep the kid, that made him go back and rescue him from the Imperial lab, to keep him hidden for months, to search for the child’s kind.

To let him go.

It was him choosing to do so.

That was the important part, and he would be damned if he was going to let some cosmic idea of fate/miracles/destiny take the credit for him choosing to take care of his child. For their Clan of Two.

That was what made them a family, what made the pain of becoming a leader and being thrust into a spotlight for the consumption of the galaxy capable of bearing. That he had chosen to protect Grogu. That he had chosen to let him go for his own journey. That Grogu in turn had decided to return to him. That they had chosen each other as family.

When Din had first raised the Darksaber as Mand’alor—the sword no longer unbearably heavy in his hands—and called the scattered Clans together in defense of a glassed planet that Imperial remnants thought they could lay claim to, it was because he chose to do so. He could have gone the rest of his life without ever igniting the Darksaber again. Could have forced it on Bo-Katan and made her lead their people herself. Could have chucked it into the Living Waters or out a ship airlock for someone else to stumble upon and claim. He chose it ultimately because he wanted something to give his son. A community not just fractured and scattered, but connected by Creed. A place where he could find safety and comfort, someplace to return to over the course of his long life, no matter where else in the galaxy the Way led him. That someday when Din was no longer able to protect him with his own armor, that he might protect him with something he had built instead.

It always came back to Grogu for him. It always would, he knew, for as long as he had breath in his lungs and beskar on his body.

Years after he had first given up Grogu on that Imperial cruiser; after he had somehow returned to him on Tatooine; as the first hesitant resettlements on Mandalore had become something less like hurried shelter on a hostile planet and more like the beginnings of a home, and Grogu had started to wake up screaming.

Even the first time had been too much for Din’s guilt, fearing that the unconventional upbringing he’d taken the child into finally had taken it’s toll. But then he was also showing other signs of struggling with his strange power. That deep tiredness coming quicker, items shifting and crashing with little rhyme or reason. When Din’s first indication Grogu was having a bad night became him finding pieces of furniture in their rooms floating several inches off the ground. There was something deeper disturbing the child, and he realized that he needed to reach out to the Jedi again.

Luke Skywalker. Din had learned the Jedi’s name after a bit of cursing from Cara and a crash course on rebellion-era propaganda and rumors while waiting for Boba’s return. To be quite honest, the only thing from the conversation Din had properly retained was the Jedi’s name, because that was the strongest lead he had to be able to see the kid again. He’d tracked trickier bounties on less after all, and it was all he had ended up needing to find the Jedi and Grogu on that terrestrial planet the first time he’d visited.

The second time he traveled to Ossus he did with help from Bo-Katan, surprisingly enough. Or at least a little more context. He had always known she had knowledge of the Jedi, naturally, since she had been the one to lead him to Lady Tano, but he hadn’t gotten any more of the story till much later. The first part had been while Bo-Katan had been staying with the covert in the desert, one clear evening after politely asking a few questions about Grogu’s powers the evening of Ragnar’s rescue. He had explained all he knew about the situation—not much—and she had supplied her own perspective. She had known Skywalker not personally but of his father, a Jedi General back in the Clone Wars, and how Tano had been the elder Skywalker’s Padawan in the days of the Jedi Order. It explained something about how Bo-Katan had always interacted with Grogu, some latent acknowledgement of his abilities even with how young he was and how raw his control was. She clearly had never doubted his capabilities. Had seen the actualization of his potential firsthand.

“Is it the right decision?” Din has asked into the quiet that had fallen after Bo-Katan’s recounting. “For him to return?”

Bo-Katan’s helmet had tilted. “A Mandalorian will always belong with other Mandalorians.”

“Is he not more Jedi than Mandalorian?”

The Armorer had been so sure when she had sent him on his quest to reunite Grogu with the Jedi, and Lady Tano had only strengthened that claim, that he had been Jedi before a foundling. He had never doubted the tribes armorer before. Is that why she had been colder upon his return with Grogu? Had he somehow erred in accepting the child back? Gone against the Creed in his actions?

Bo-Katan had turned her visor towards him, then tilted it consideringly, like she had to redirect her initial response into something more nuanced. “He’s certainly mandokarla, from what I’ve seen. Particularly for one so small,” she had said. Something warmed in Din’s chest at her casual seeming comment. Pride for his young ward and his accomplishments. He had known Grogu was much more capable than he looked from the encounter with the mudhorn—if not sooner—but since returning to the covert after his redemption it was unclear if the others were going to be able to see it as well.

Bo-Katan was looking over his shoulder, towards one of the larger gatherings and Din turned to look as well. It was mostly younglings and the apprentices with a few of the parents and teachers sprinkled around. Paz was the most identifiable of the figures in the low light, and naturally, Ragnar was at his side, leaning against his father with a stillness that suggested he had fallen asleep. What drew most of Din’s attention in the moment was Grogu, also clearly having dozed off and settled in Ragnar’s lap. When the rescue party had first returned, Grogu had gravitated towards the new apprentice and Din suspected he had sensed whatever wounds the boy had picked up during his ordeal with the raptors and wanted to help. What was somewhat more surprising was how accepting Ragnar had been of Grogu’s sudden attachment seeing as how dismissive he’d been towards him before. Then again, it was very much a Mandalorian attitude to befriend someone after a good fight.

There was something there, in seeing Grogu among other Mandalorians, casually accepted and cared for while the group spoke quietly in deference to the ones who had fallen asleep. It soothed some ache Din hadn’t even realized he’d still been carrying, that he’d thought had faded once he emerged from the Living Waters. He turned back and found Bo-Katan watching him.

“A Mandalorian will always belong with other Mandalorians,” she repeated. “We are always stronger together.” She paused, head turned back towards the larger fire for a moment. “The final choice will be his, ultimately.”

Din nodded. Of course it would be. Din would keep Grogu safe, teach him their ways, prepare him for a life as both hunter and hunted, and when it came time it would be his choice to swear the Creed or no. Din would not make that decision for him. Could not.

“This is the Way.”

Bo-Katan breathed amusement through her vocoder, but repeated the phrase. “This is the Way.”

Din had felt something settle when he watched Grogu interact with the rest of the covert. Even later when they had retaken Sundari and he had watched him run and play with the other foundlings and apprentices, it had felt right. Calmed some searching instinct he’d had inside of him. Like he was doing right by his son.

Which made it all the harder when he had to consider he might have been wrong.

He struggled for longer than he’d cared to admit, conversing with the various healers around the palace long after the voice of doubt started to speak up in the back of his head. The healers had suggested calming teas before sleep you know where you need to take him. There were certain exercises that could calm the body and center the mind attachments are dangerous, this must be what they meant. Perhaps if they visited one of the other settlements for a bit, or if the child stayed on Nevarro for a cycle, the change in scenery could help you should never have brought him here. If he was older perhaps speaking with a mind healer his place is not with you.

Din didn’t know if taking Grogu back mean he would never see him again, but he knew there was something he needed that Din couldn’t provide, and the Jedi could. Din would rather become dar’manda and never wear his armor again for the rest of his days than deny Grogu the aid he needed for his own selfish feelings.

“Do you trust him?” Bo-Katan had asked about the Jedi, when Din shared his decision to seek out Skywalker once again to the Mand’tsad’alorir. Din had already prepped the N-1 for travel and had bundled a peacefully (thank the Manda) sleeping Grogu into his birikad as he prepared for departure. He had paused to look over at his friend and second. Her helmet had been tucked under her arm, her hair freshly trimmed, and her eyes darting between him and Grogu, betraying the worry she’d been feeling. Not for her Mand’alor leaving a still unstable system into a wider unstable galaxy into the territory of an ancient enemy with his only son, but for Din and Grogu.

“I have to,” Din had said simply.

Luke Skywalker’s nascent Jedi Academy had grown since Din had first visited, and even more in the time since. For one, there were more than simply building droids wondering the grasses. Din had been introduced to a few of the other teachers and learners when he and Grogu had returned the remote planet but he’d been too stressed about his son to fully absorb the information he’d been given during the informal tour. Skywalker mentioned they had run into their own trouble with Imperial remnants, whose focus seemed always to be on the younger of their ranks, so he had taken to keeping the newer initiates on a more remote planetoid outside the Adega system for the bulk of their training.

Din wasn’t sure the planetoid even had a proper name outside it’s standard navigational designations. It was Mid-rim on technicality, but flanked by nebula that were treacherous to cross and far enough from any useful hyperspace lanes and sub-light trading routes that it was quiet. Any sentient life that might have once lived there had been long gone even before the Empires rise and no one had settled it since. Luke had casually joked about how some of the people in neighboring systems told him the whole sector was haunted, that first time when Luke had walked him and Grogu back to the ships and instructed them to follow.

“When a place has those kinds of stories around it, there’s usually something out there inspiring them,” Din had said, leaning against the hull of his ship while Skywalker prepped his X-Wing.

Skywalker had laughed.

“I know how to deal with ghosts,” he had said, flashing a white-toothed smile which had shone starkly against his sun-tanned skin and the black of his tunic. Din hadn’t asked anymore questions.

The planetoid, like the main temple, was surrounded by forests; more evergreen than wood-grass. It was green and temperate for the majority of the year, though Luke always said the winters could get particularly nasty so he tried to time the training schedule so the younglings were either visiting home or back on Ossus during those months.

There were about thirty other Jedi at the temple by Din’s estimation, some having trained under the old Order and finally emerging after decades of hiding. Some had narrowly survived the Empire's purge of Force-sensitives and sought to harness the abilities they had previously been hunted for. Others still were just coming into abilities only recently realized, a fresh eagerness for the future and exploration of a new aspect of their self. As for the younglings, the eldest (save for Grogu) were around twelve and the youngest only five. Din had only been to the planetoid three times, and to the main temple only half a dozen, yet Skywalker always insisted he was a favorite guest—particularly among the younglings. Din just took him at his word, but considering how secretive the Jedi was about the children’s training grounds he also suspected he was a rare novelty among the learners. It certainly didn’t help that of Skywalker’s dozen young students, one was his son, one a former foundling, and one Skywalker’s own nephew, who had attached himself to Din the moment he had learned of his friendship with Boba. (“He’s in that phase where he’s always mad at his dad for no reason,” Skywalker had tried explaining at Din’s confused reaction. It did not clear anything up.)

When Din had first returned to the Temple, he had been met with several suspicious Forece-sensitives and then shortly, Luke Skywalker himself. Grogu had still been asleep, and neither had been inclined to wake him so they had spoken softly and had perfectly polite and professional conversation. Right up until the point the Jedi Master had stopped in his tracks, sighed heavily as he drew a hand over his face, and apologized for letting Grogu steal his X-wing that one time and that he had planned to deliver him back to his care in person and that he really was a more responsible teacher he swore.

Din wasn’t even that terribly phased by the news, or had he thought the Jedi Master had been negligent in his charge like Luke was clearly worried he did. Peli had only said he was dropped off by a droid in an X-wing and Din had assumed it was standard Jedi procedure for sending younglings back. Or, really, he had been so distracted by the fact he had Grogu back at all that he didn’t really think about the specifics. Honestly, knowing what had actually happened made him feel proud of the womp-rat, quickly followed by the worry he may have to keep a closer eye on him around the palace hangar now.

Once that was clear and Luke was able to converse with Grogu on the matter, Din and Master Skywalker had discussed what next steps to take. Skywalker was of course willing to help Grogu with his current troubles, and any that may arise in the future. “But,” he had continued, the pair conversing under a shade tree that overlooked a fair amount of the temple grounds. “If he does want to continue his training here—and if you are amenable—he is also welcome to stay.”

A Mandalorian will always belong with other Mandalorians.

He supposed the same must be true for Jedi as well.

“Before, I could tell his heart wasn’t in it,” Skywalker had continued without Din commenting, the pair watching Grogu down in the small valley as the child played with a few of the other younglings. “Perhaps now, with it being more than just me and him around—” he glanced over. “—and with more firm assurances that he would see his father.”

That was when Din had finally and quietly asked about attachments (because after all, that was the central issue was it not? Why Lady Tano would not train Grogu herself, why Skywalker had sent Grogu back before.) The Jedi had just smiled sadly and said his own strength came from the bonds he’s formed with his friends and family, so it felt disingenuous to try and teach anything else.

“I can’t fully speak for how the old Order handled such things, I can only do what I think is right and trust in the Force to lead me.” Then his smile turned fond. “Besides, I feel like Leia would strangle me if I tried to tell her and Han they couldn’t see their son anymore because old ghosts were lecturing me.”

So Grogu had returned to his Jedi training, and while Din did still see him regularly, the demands of the academy meant he was away for most of the year. It was strange, having him gone yet the evidence of him everywhere, but it wasn’t as hollow a feeling in his chest as before when he had no way of knowing if he’d ever see the child again save for his own stubborn convictions. When the school had their regular breaks, Din or one of the members of the palace Watch would collect him from Ossus—only a few times had Din felt the need to go directly to the training planetoid—and then later bring him back. In between he kept regular contact with Skywalker over holo on Grogu’s progress, though even that had quickly evolved to include stories about all the younglings and general temple goings-on. It seemed almost painfully normal after all that had happened before it, like Din was any other planetary leader sending his child off to a fancy Core school for education.

In fact, it had almost surprised Din that the academy wasn’t located closer to the Core. He knew enough to know the old Jedi Temple had been located on Courasant, though apparently there were several other temples scattered across the galaxy as well. It seemed logical to him that with the Jedi Master’s connections and status within the New Republic that keeping his school in the Core might end up keeping it safer from the Imp remnants. The decision he learned, however, had been made more with the eventual future of the new Order in mind.

Skywalker had explained it to him once, at a chance meeting on Courasant where Din was leading the invited Mandalorian delegation and Luke was making his rounds as head of the New Jedi Order. They had independently wandered away from the evening banquet and had run into each other in the dim night of the city-planets upper levels, easily falling into step as they had walked the busy streets.

“The old Order had gotten too tangled up in the old Republic,” Skywalker had said between bites of his kebob, the heavy spice seasoning the meat clear to Din ever through the filters of his helmet. “I was offered the use of the old Jedi Temple that’s still here on Courasant—or what’s left of it really. And a few senators have come to me with proposals to rebuild on Chandrilla once they finish moving the senate infrastructure there. Offering credits and resources and protection, but I can’t make the same mistakes they did. To have the Order so close to the Galactic Senate again sends the wrong signal. It’s bad enough just with everyone knowing Leia and I are siblings.”

“Why?” Din had asked, and it had felt like the only word he had spoken all day despite the hours spent in meetings and dinners (after all, talking was what he had brought Bo-Katan along for).

Skywalker had swallowed his mouthful and Din had tried not to watch the bob of his throat too closely. “Because everyone just assumes I’m always going to side with the Republic on things because of our connection—like Leia and I haven’t had some very public and very loud arguments in the Senate building before.” He had snorted and rolled his eyes. “Yeah, Leia and I usually have similar ideas on how things should go, but from some of the other senators there’s just things…assumption that I’m going to be the New Republic shiny little Jedi toy to flash around and use as bait to get new worlds to join. Like…today…” He had sighed, almost like he had just made the connection, shoulders drooping as he nearly folded completely in on himself. “It’s so…tiring. I thought we were done with most of this after the Rebellion, after Jakuu, but it’s more of the same, just different skirts. To have all these expectations on me—to be the one who has to make these kinds of decisions. To have to rebuild the Order in the first place.” He had fallen silent again, but this one had felt heavier. The kebob had sat delicately between his fingers, half-forgotten as his legs dangled over the edge of the metal walkway, neon lights catching in his blond hair as his pale gaze pierced through the implacable darkness below them.

“Did you know, that back during the days of the old Order there were certain trials that a Jedi had to take in order to become a full Knight? I barely understand what any of them were. They were so well known and expected that so many of the texts I have just referenced them with little elaboration. I know what they were supposed to do, what they tested, but not what they were. When Yoda passed, he said after I defeated Vader I was going to be the last Jedi in the Galaxy, but I’ve met trained Jedi that survived Order 66. That survived the Inquisitors. I call myself a Jedi and yet I haven’t had even half the training a traditional padawan learner would have had in their first two years out of the creche—let alone had any formal ‘Trials’. Isn’t that infuriating? How am I supposed to teach people, to train a new Order of Knights if I don’t have the tools I need? How can I even claim myself worthy of training them when I have no way of understanding what I’m asking of them? When I—”

He had paused then, glancing up towards Din and freezing as his teeth clicked shut. The quiet sorrow and indignation that had been tracing his features gave way to sheepish nerves. “Sorry,” he had said, running a gloved hand through his hair, bangs falling disastrously across his forehead in its wake, pale strands flaring multicolored in the neon lights of the city-planet. “You’re probably the worst person to talk to this about. Really not selling the whole ‘competent and capable teacher’ thing to the parent of my best student.” Another pause. “Do not let Ben know I said that.”

Din would never, but his mouth did twitch slightly at the jest it was. He had outwardly stayed silent, however, as Skywalker returned to staring into the abyss below, idly kicking his feet as his fingers fidgeted with the end of the kebob stick. A fair amount of the red seasoning had fallen off and was now coating the thighs of his dark pants, a contrast Din could only read through his HUD filters.

“Is it better to let it die?” Din had said after several long minutes admidts the hum of traffic. Skywalker had snapped his head over his shoulder to look at him, mouth open slightly in surprise as his head tilted in silent question. Din met his gaze through the T-visor, though there was no way for Skywalker to reliably return the gesture. The Jedi always managed it anyway. “Do you feel it’s more important to carry on the tradition, even incomplete than let it die completely? Dar’johay’cuy?”

Luke had furrowed his brows slightly, but his lips quirked upwards. “What does that mean?” he had asked softly, voice much more even than when he had been venting his frustrations.

Din had shifted, hesitating. He hadn’t fully meant to speak Mando’a then but. “No longer spoken,” he had answered after a beat, voice also softening. “But it’s more like…no longer remembered. No longer worth remembering; not worth being kept or carried with you. That it doesn’t have anything to offer your future and serves best as something to be forgotten.”

Luke had hummed, fingertips pressing together as he considered the words for a moment. he gave a slow nod and looked back towards DIn, a smile now on his face. A small, sad one perhaps, but a truer one than Din had seen on the man’s face all evening. “I see what you mean. Maybe I need to focus less on all that’s been lost and focus more on what there is to keep. Be…Be grateful for what I am able to pass down at all, for what has been able to be passed to me.” He gave a respectful nod. “Thank you, Mand’alor.”

“Din.”

Luke had blinked, eyebrow arching in confusion.

“Din Djarin. It’s my name,” Din had elaborated. “If you’re not here to represent the New Republic, then you don’t need to use my title. And if you’re a teacher to my son, then you should be able to use my name.”

“Oh,” Luke had said softly, seemingly frozen in time for a beat before turning his face away quickly. Din could still read the rise in temperature on his cheeks and neck though through the HUD. He was momentarily confused before Luke shot him a quick glance out of the corner of his eye and then groaned, burying his face in his hands.

“I…I’m sorry. I realized how much of an idiot I’ve been,” Luke had confessed through parted fingers. He had peeked past them to look at a still rather confused Din. “When we communicate through the Force…well the only actual word I can get from Grogu about you is ‘buir’ and I had…I had just assumed that he was using your name for some reason.”

Din had sat dumbly for a few moments, parsing over what Luke was telling him when he snorted.

“You thought my name was Buir?” he confirmed and Luke had just made a sad sound and nodded again. Din chuckled softly.

“Please tell me it’s not a curse you accidentally taught him,” Luke had asked with a look of worried resignation.

Din was pretty sure any curse words Grogu learned would come from either Cara or Boba—or Luke himself based on what he overheard that time the Jedi Master had dropped a spanner on his foot. He didn’t mention that though. “It’s Mando’a. It means parent. Father in this case.”

There had been a moment of near complete silence, even the traffic and rumble of the city seemed to still for a moment. Luke’s eyes had grown almost comically wide as he stared blankly at Din, face heating to a point where Din could see the discoloration forming even through the low-light filter of his HUD. “Oh Force spare me,” Luke had muttered to himself, again seeking the cover of his hands and Din was no longer able to help the laugh that came out at the Jedi’s self-made predicament.

That night had been only a few months after Din had taken Grogu back to Ossus to officially restart his Jedi training. It had also been when Luke gave him his personal comm code, as they made their return to the Senate building before searches were sent after them.

Din wasn’t one to believe in luck—or even the Force if he was pressed about it—but even he felt something odd stir in his chest when he thought to much about the cosmic alignment that mean the planetoid that Luke’s school was located on and Mandalore had similar day/night cycles. So when Din was freed from responsibilities and able to retire and eat his last-meal in private, Luke had usually gotten the younglings under his care settled and having their own post-last-meal quiet time even while physically systems away, and the two had gotten into the habit of meeting for a holo-call. The exact timing had drifted over the past several months and Din now usually put aside his meal till after Luke had contacted him, but it was something approaching what Din might consider a miracle that they were able to do it in the first place. Calls across systems were usually cyclically inconvenient for at least one party, and years of planet-hopping had made Din very good at adjusting his own personal cycle to wherever he happened to be. He had been prepared to fit conversations into his own schedule whenever it was convenient for the Jedi the moment he’d accepted the comm code Luke had offered.

“So you don’t have to trek all the way out there just to check on his progress,” the Jedi had said when he transferred the code, and that’s what it it had been for a long time. Din would call to check on Grogu’s progress, sometimes the Jedi Master pulling the child into his lap so father and son could converse in their own way. Luke would call when Grogu was having a particular difficulty, or when he was breaking classes for a season and was giving Din a heads up since it was more difficult for him to get away than the other parents. But then it was Luke telling Din funny stories about the other younglings as well, or the two swapping stories from their galaxy roaming days. It was Luke bringing up some wild adventure he’d gotten himself into in his teen years on Tatooine and Din relating some of his less straightforward bounties when he’d first begun leaving the covert regularly. It was Din complaining about delays in rebuilding efforts or supply logistics and Luke venting about half-degraded Jedi texts or some of his fellow Force-sensitives that had joined in the efforts to rebuild the Order. It had been so easy for the conversations to become habit, to become an ingrained part of Din’s every day, slipping right into his personal schedule and making a home, to the point where he’d even been more on top of Council meetings not running overly long and delaying his retreat to his quarters.

Which had been the case this particular evening. Din had found himself unable to fully speed up the process surrounding ancient Clan rights to certain lands and the inter-city travel system they were attempting to set up between the populated areas of the planet. He had however pulled enough rank in order to cut the meeting once it became clear they weren’t going to come to any conclusions that evening, under the guise of everyone needing to rest and that they should consider a different format for the discussion. If there had been raised eyebrows Din had ignored them, and fortunately, enough of the Mand’tsad’alorir agreed with him that they had wrapped the proceedings quickly and broke for the day.

The console in front of him beeped and Din sat up quicker than strictly necessary. He reached out without sparing even a glance towards the request's origin. He didn’t really need to, only one person had the direct code to this comm.

Sure enough, the holo emitter flared to life and the blue-tinted image of Luke Skywalker was projected in front of him. As the holo connected he was looking to the side, expression almost nervous but melting into a warm smile as the image finished establishing on his end. The second thing Din noticed was the slight haze to the transmission, a small shudder and flare tracing up the image as a tell-tale sign of hyperspace transmission.

“Hi Din,” Luke said, his smile smoothing away the lines of tiredness on his face. “Sorry I’m a little late. Took a while to get the kids settled in their bunks.”

Din tilted his helmet to the side. It was still a bit early for the kids to be ushered into their beds on Ossus. “Where are you?”

Luke’s smile dropped and Din belatedly realized that probably sounded more accusatory than he’d meant. “I—”

“No no, you’re right,” Luke said, holding up a hand. He laughed softly and pulled it through his hair, bangs falling almost disastrously across his forehead in it’s wake. “You’re very observant, don’t know why I forget that sometimes. I wasn’t trying to hide anything, it’s just been a busy day and a half and, well, I didn’t particularly want to spring anything on you either. Though I suppose the tooka’s rather out of the bag already.”

His arms lowered back down and Din could easily map the shape of his shoulders down into the careful lacing of his fingers the Jedi held during focused conversations. Despite his outward calmness Din couldn’t help the trickle of anxiety down his spin, pulling him to attention. Did they have to evacuate? Was there some kind of natural disaster? A troop of Imps? If it was something like that, why hadn’t Luke called him earlier for help? Why—

“It’s nothing terrible, please don’t worry,” Luke said as if he could sense the rising swell of Din’s feelings and wanted to calm them. Maybe he could, even this far away, Din never could quite grasp the extent of his abilities. “There was…Han heard a few interesting rumors from his old smuggling contacts. He’d been trying to follow up on some of them that past few months and…” Luke paused, mouth twisting as he strung the words together. Like there were too many ideas in his head and to took a few moments to condense the information into something transmittable. Their first few encounters, Luke had carried the picture-perfect composure of the Jedi Masters of old. Solemn. Composed. He had spoken with carefulness and clarity as he showed Din around the new Jedi training temple, explaining the teaching structure he’d created and his plans for the future. It was the Jedi Knight he’d seen on Moff Gideon’s cruiser those years ago, and the Jedi Master he’d seen heading the new Order at the New Republic gala.

It was only after a few months of consistent contact, where their relationship was morphing from professional acquaintances to something almost like friendship, that the facade began to slip. Where Luke’s words became less polished, more a rushed web, following tangents before coming back around to his initial point. So eager to share the thoughts in his head that he was unable to shape it into something it was “supposed” to be. Not that he spoke carelessly, but less that he was trying to impress. It was a shade closer to the man Din had sat next to on the raised streets of Courasant. Who had ducked out of that same New Republic Gala and whose face had split into a grin when he found Din also having escaped the confines of the ballroom for some fresh air. Who had offered Din some of his kebob shortly after acquiring it from the street vendor and made no further comment when Din politely declined with a vague motion toward his helmet.

Din had understood it was an aspect of their friendly relationship that allowed him to see this side of the Jedi. Unpolished and unrehearsed. It seemed it was this side Luke was trying to pull away from as he explained his hurried departure and Din couldn’t help the sharp pang in his chest as he realized it.

“There’s rumors of an old Jedi Temple. From the beginnings of the Order as we would recognize it, but before the move to Coruscant .” His gaze drifted off towards the side as he spoke. “It’s theoretically on the far edge of Wild Space, on a moon of an inner system planet. Han told me he’d heard vague stories about it even during the days of the Empire, it’s apparently an old smugglers myth. Hadn’t even believed it to actually exist until he came across this old text.

“It’s old. Flimsy bound in leather and sewn almost without any trace of space-faring tech. Ancient in that way I’m almost scared to touch it too much. Chewie got me a stasis case to keep it in and I’ve been using my synth-hand to handle it when I have too since I can control it’s levels better. It’s a kriffen miracle it’s intact or readable at all…but it seems to back up enough of the stories Han’s been able to gather that it may actually be a lead. And there’s this Force-signature attached to it that almost pulling and I—”

He stopped, mouth open for a beat before he snapped it shut and looked back at the receiver. “Sorry, that’s…I’m not actually explaining anything am I?”

“You’re going into Wild Space to try and find an old Jedi Temple,” Din said. He gave a one-shoulder shrug. “Seems simple enough.” And in line enough with what Luke tended to do during the breaks in the academy. He didn’t need to know all the details as to why this temple was a target, he trusted Luke to understand all the magical Force bantha enough to make decisions. “When do you leave?”

“Now.” Luke winced as he said it. “It’s…the charts we’ve been able to piece together aren’t very comprehensive, but if the orbital calculations are even mostly accurate we’ll have to pass through the Ahemait nebula which is going to enter it’s storm cycle soon and be nearly impassable for the next 40 years. If we want to try and find the temple any time soon we have to leave now—and even so we’re cutting it close.”

Din shifted in his seat, already running through basic navigational equations in his head, trying to remember the last time he’d refused his ship or it it’d be better to try and borrow Bo-Katan’s for a mission like this. “Where are you now? I’ll rendezvous.”

Luke’s mouth fell open and his face went through about seven different expressions before he shook his head and stammered out a response. “No. No, Din, please. I—I understand but you can’t. You’re the Mand’alor for Force-sake! You can’t just run out a join some rushed Jedi Quest with me.”

Din titled his chin up, arms crossing as he regarded the oscillating holo image. “You’re right. I’m the Mand’alor. I have the right to tend to matters I deem important directly.”

But Luke was still shaking his head. “No. Din. I’m serious, the window is already so narrow. That’s why I’m taking the kids to Leia right now—the others have already been picked up by their families. I would have brought Grogu to Mandalore myself if there was time but with current orbits. We’re only stopping long enough to drop off him, Finn, and Ben before stocking up and jumping to hyperspace. There’s no time.” He paused, taking a deep breath as he kept his gaze trained just before the reader eye.

“Besides,” he continued after a beat, a small quirk to his mouth. “If both of us are out traversing Wild Space then who’s gonna keep Grogu from eating all the frogs on Naboo?”

“I’m sure the Senator is more than capable of protecting the planets ecosystem against even Grogu’s appetites,” Din said which earned a laugh from Luke. For a moment Din just watched him, the sudden mirth overcoming some of the tension the Jedi was carrying.

There was something about the mission that felt disquieting. Some sense in the back of Din’s head, honed over the years of fighting and hunting, told him Luke shouldn’t be going alone. That Din needed to be with him.

“I wont be alone, Han and Chewie are coming with,” Luke said. He smiled but it didn’t quite reach his eyes the right way. “I wouldn’t want to take you away from Grogu like that anyway, he may never forgive me. Since he won’t have his temple training it’s a great opportunity for him to reconnect to his Mandalorian side as well, and I’m sure it will be nice to have him back on Mandalore with you.”

“It…” Not that was something Din wouldn’t even pretend to argue against. Since his return to the academy, it had been so long since he and Grogu had spent time on the same planet. A stark difference from the days when they were rarely even a few feet away from each other, a symptom of Grogu’s attachment and Din’s protectiveness. His bedroom sat unused, the open door opposite his current seat at the desk. It was filled with the various trinkets and toys the child had collected throughout their time together, gifts from friends and family, as well as several Din himself had picked up during the latest school term he thought the kid might like. They had painted the walls as well, once that area of the palace had been reconstructed, Grogu spattering the colors on both the wall and floor as Din tried to encourage him to choose one. Several flimi star-charts of various systems hung up as well, since Grogu had taken so easily to navigation.

Din remembered spreading out the first chart on the cold stone floor of one of the early settlements, once they had retaken Sundari and the Great Forge. Din had traced the lines and whorls, pointing out each planet, moon, and star out as Grogu watched transfixed at his side.

“This is Kelvada —you remember. And this is Concordia. And this is where we are, Mandalor. Manda’yaim.”

“Patoo!” Grogu exclaimed, reaching forward to tap a claw on the white circle with the bolder Aurebesh, then twisting to reach out and pat the side of Din’s helmet. Din breathed out a chuckle.

“That’s right. That’s where we are. Our Homeworld.”

“When I commed Leia about the trip earlier I told her you be coming to pick him up as soon as you could get away,” Luke said and Din startled. He hadn’t realized his thoughts had shifted so far away and he quickly refocused. Luke just smiled. “I also made her promise no Senate or New Republic talk, so you don’t have to worry about that.”

“I…thank you,” Din said. It wasn’t about the promise of no politics—though that was appreciated—but something Din wasn’t quite sure he could put into words.

“Of course, Din,” Luke said, like he knew, and wasn’t that something else? That way Luke could so easily read him even from so far away. Maybe it was his Force powers, but Din was more inclined to think it was just Luke. “I’m sure Ben and Finn will be thrilled to see you again as well. I know you won’t be able to stay long but it’ll be a nice break.” He glanced to the side, something had caught his attention and he leaned partially out of the emitter range for a moment. “Ah, sorry. Anyway, we’ll be out of range of most holo-satellites once we enter the Unknown Regions, but I can still send you messages updates. I’ll have to forward you the Falcon’s code so you can do the same.”

Din nodded, forcing himself to settle into the idea that he was in fact going to stay behind instead of traveling with Luke. Redirecting his focus into the more practical. It was a still he was unfortunately rather good at. “I’ll made sure Grogu doesn’t forget any of his lessons.”

“Oh, don’t worry about that too much. The kids deserve a break—a proper one, not just me canceling lessons for the day.” His gaze dropped and Din recognized something in his expression. He had to have worn a very similar expression that day on the cruiser when he’d watched Grogu be carried away from him.

“The children will be fine.”

Luke looked up, seemingly startled, then smiled. “I know. They’ll have you keeping an eye on them after all.” He winked and laughed and Din had no interest in examining the way his heart flipped around in his chest at the sight.

The Jedi settled with a sigh, leaning back against whatever chair he was in, confusing the holo filter so that the edges of him became fuzzy. “Not to make our last actual conversation all business but there’s a few other things I need to take care of before we land and I’m sure you need your sleep.”

Din wanted to say he was fine. That Luke could go about and do his other work and Din would just stay on the line and listen. It wouldn’t have been the first time their usual holos turned into companionable silence. Maybe they could switch to audio-only so it would be less of a strain on the system. Maybe Din would take off his helmet to eat his dinner and speak to him unfiltered through the vocoder. Maybe he could get Luke to tell him more about this book he was enamored with, just listen for a while.

But Luke’s smile was flat and his gaze was disconnected, distracted, and Din wasn’t one to press for more than he’d been given.

“If you think that’s best.”