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Luke is a bit too used to the dug in homes of Tatooine. When he first imagined his school, when he was ready to actually acknowledge the fact that he was going to be a teacher , he had pictured it almost like a bigger version of his home. A single building on the top, a wide center room dug into the center, smaller rooms with moisture and shade making the walls cool to the touch. Small and safe, a human version of a burrow.
The planet they finally decided on was too marshy for a burrow; the earth kept slipping in on itself, wet and sticky. Luke finds himself having to build up, like the homes they had in the cities, like the towering mess of Coruscant. He doesn’t know how to build those, and so the droids come in. Luke likes them well enough, strong bulky things that follow orders to the letter. Han had huffed at them, and said only vaguely “No bugs, metal or otherwise, deserve to be that big.” Luke had gotten into the habit, from then on, to patting what could count as a head wherever they finished a dwelling. As if they could have heard Han’s comments, and gotten offended.
Okay, so, maybe being one of two sentient beings on site was taking its toll.
Ashoka was interesting company. They kept dancing around each other, never sure what to say, never sure what to do; he would ask for her ideas about the school, and she would mention that she was unsure about his shared custody plan. Luke would mention that a parental bond had saved the universe, and then watch her mouth twitch at the reminder of his father, and then feel incredibly bad about it. Sometimes, her mouth formed around a nickname when near him, the start of Skywalker, though she never let herself get past the K.
He was glad, through all of it, that she stayed. Even if she probably saw Anakin out of the corner of her eye every day, echoed in the shine of his hair or the panes of his face.
Construction was going well, at least, progress steadily growing. A number of the homes were already done, the larger structure of the school expanding with each day. Luke was even getting used to the moisture of the place, water beading on his clothes and mud caking in the soles of his boots.
For the last month he admittedly hasn’t cared that much about construction. Mostly because of the call, the same that happens every day, at around the same time. When the sun of this planet falls slightly, the whole of the sky becoming a dusky purple and blue, his comm alerts with the off world connection. Luke hates that he even has a place to take these calls, a meandering path that cuts right past the frog pond and up to a hill that overlooks most of the land the Jedi Academy will stand on.
It is slightly drizzling this time around, the earth giving off the smell of moss and loam. The air rushes into his lungs before he answers, bracing himself, though these things are never video enabled. “How’s the homecoming going so far,” he starts as soon as the connection clears. Luke hopes his voice doesn’t squeak, he has to be past that at this point.
“I’d say it’s more of one now. I’m sorry for not making the call the other day.” His voice is always the same, steady and deep and just a bit staticy. Din had in fact missed the call yesterday, and Luke had actually panicked. He’d accidentally made every rock within a two hundred foot radius shoot off like a firework. He wasn’t sure the trees would ever forgive him.
“It was no problem,” he lies, “I just figured you were busy doing uh…Mandalorian things.” He laughs awkwardly. Thank Force these aren’t video calls, his face is burning like no tomorrow.
“Of the sort. It won’t happen again, I promise. There were connection problems at the time.” Luke can still picture what he looks like. There’s the version with the helmet, all silver and black and shining. There’s the version without it, brown hair and soft eyes and tears; he knows he wasn’t supposed to see that, he tries to pull the image out of his mind, that disrespect.
“Is Grogu fitting in with the other kids alright?” Luke asks. It had been a concern between the two of them, if Jedi and Mandalorian training could be had in tantum. This was the first attempt, and he was on the metaphorical edge of his seat.
“He’s been doing fine. Actually, he won his first duel. Thanks to you.” Din’s voice lowers just a bit on that last sentence. Luke moves past the duel part, maybe Mando toddlers are just that skilled, and latches on. Somewhere beside him the pond water bubbles, a frog poking out bulbous eyes; they’ve started repopulating now that a certain padawan isn’t demanding them for every meal.
“Thanks to me?”
“He used ah, Jedi tricks, to win. The others were impressed.” There’s a small burst that Luke has come to understand is Din taking a breath. “I’m certainly impressed.”
“O-oh, well, I’m sure most of that he learned before me. He was only with me for a few months, you know.” Six, to be exact. It had helped set up the rules he and Din had decided on, half a year as a Jedi and the other half as Mandalorian. Din himself would be spending the Jedi months on the planet in one of the finished homes, doing jobs and training with his saber. If, Luke reminded himself, he did not lose it in combat by the time they returned.
“Felt like years,” Din muttered, a bit saddened. Luke ignored it, knew it was probably meant to be whispered to air instead of him. “Don’t sell yourself short. You taught him well, and it will help him when he takes the creed.”
“Your teachings will help him be a great Jedi,” Luke says, almost a bit too fast. “I’ve been researching, and well, the teachings about connections and family, I think it could help with the new ideas I’m trying to provide. I’d love to talk more with you about it, when you come back, if that would be alright? To try to incorporate it in, I mean.” Luke took a breath, for once, felt the tips of his ears burning. One would think that he couldn’t be embarrassed anymore, being a celebrity after the war and all, but he still managed. When talking to Din, at least.
“If it helps Grogu, I’ll tell you everything I can.” There is a slight tapping sound, and Luke recognizes it. He did a bit when he first built his saber, letting his fingers hit it as if to confirm it was really there. “You’re training me to. Least I can do.”
He sincerely hopes Din never gets it into his head to start calling Luke Master. He doesn’t think he’d survive it.
“Well, it’ll help me prepare for when the school is done.” From his vantage point now, the overlook, he can see the bones of it. The ant droids, boxy and gray moving back and forth. If he looks hard enough he could probably spot the white and blue dot of Ashoka’s montrals.
“It will look great,” Din reassures him. Currently it looks like sticks and dirt.
“Thanks,” he responds, almost absentmindedly, softly. From the comm he distantly hears the gurgle of the child, feels a little bit inside him melt. At the start it had felt strange, thinking something that was the same species as Yoda was cute, but those eyes would melt even the most solid of resolve.
“Ah,” Din says, almost embarrassed. “That’s him, I have to go. Tomorrow?” Luke nods, even though he can’t be seen.
“Tomorrow.”
The comm clicks off, that constant buzz of the technology disappearing. Luke can hear the bugs clicking in the leaves, the rush of the wind, even the distant gurgling of the frogs. One call, once a day, for five more months.
He starts the walk back home.
** ** **
Din’s head is buzzing a bit, trying to make sense of everything that he just saw on Plazir-15, one of the strangest planets he’s had to be on. Technically, still on it, though being with the fleet of Bo-Katan’s Mandalorian squadron feels like an entirely different world. He’s still a bit stuck on the fact that he doesn’t have to be a king anymore, and the fact that Grogu is a knight now.
Well, maybe. Who knows if the Republic would consider the word of the (elected) duchess to be law. A new title could cause some problems, for entirely other reasons.
It’s easy to slip away this time, no longer in the cramped quarters of a ship with Bo-Katan, whispering short sentences into his comm like a scared child. Most of the other Mandos ignore him, now that he’s given up the saber, another soldier in the army. He’s missed the scheduled time by a few hours, what with the droid fighting, but Luke is generally alright with it. He’s constantly told Din that he doesn’t really have anything to do with Grogu gone and the school still being constructed.
The chime rings longer than usual, until the connection is established. “Hello?” comes a voice, deep and just a bit groggy, and Din rushes in before he can fully process what that means.
“The kid’s a knight.”
“Um. Not yet, he isn’t,” Luke says, and laughs for a moment. It is soft and suddenly Din realizes how deep it is, how scratchy. His fist clenches; he’s glad at times like these that he wears a helmet.
“I woke you. Sorry. I’ll hang up.”
“No, no,” Luke says, and Din hears the rustle of sheets, a body repositioning. He very very much does not imagine Luke in bed. “Did something happen?” He doesn’t even know how to explain, wonders if he should even include the whole old Separatist sabotaging an elected monarchy.
“...Have you ever heard of Plazir-15?” Din hopes being a Jedi means knowing most planets, because that would help a lot in this scenario.
“Not at all.”
“Well. The Dutchess knighted Grogu. I know we talked about duel training, but can Jedi take titles?” Din hesitates, and hopes the question isn’t that stupid. He tried to do a bit of net searching on the Jedi, and all that popped up were New Republic news articles about Luke, and how not much was known about the Jedi from before the Empire. They had lightsabers, played a big part in the Clone Wars, and then had vanished from the general eye for a good twenty years. About the same, he had realized, as the Mandalorians.
“I think so. Actually,” Luke jokes, “I’m in charge of him so I formally announce that they can as long as they aren’t political.”
“Not a fan of politics, Skywalker?”
“Absolutely not,” he replies, and Din can hear the smile in his voice. He’s never seen Luke smile, not widely; when they talked about the kid he always seemed to try to keep himself restrained, the good Jedi teacher. Din could understand it. Everyone had their masks.
“Also I…lost the saber.” He’d called Luke after the swim in the waters, when he’d already been thinking about how gaining the blade worked. He’d hesitated to give it Bo-Katan, not because he didn’t want to, but because he had lost the excuse to stay on planet when Luke got his six months. That had been part of the deal originally, for him to teach Din how to use the saber, and suddenly that was gone. For a great cause, a fantastic cause, but still.
“Did you get hurt?” The question is fast, almost spit out, he can hear in the background that Luke has sat up.
“No, no. It’s a long story, but someone else has it now. You should know, I have no plans to challenge them for it back.” Not after all that effort that had gone into getting here, not when Bo-Katan wanted this so much. A small part of him had wanted to, some sort of proof to Luke that he could wield the same weapon as him. A selfish part, he had decided, however small.
“Oh, thank Force,” Luke breaths out, settling back down. “That won’t be a problem.”
“You don’t think I should leave when Grogu goes to you?” He’s silent, holding his breath, waiting for the hammer to come down.
“He would hate that,” Luke says, pauses, and then breathes in. “We both would.”
Oh. Din is glad his comm is attached to his wrist, otherwise he might have just dropped it onto the grass. “A-ah, then, I will, certainly, stay. Yes. I will do that.” He lifts his head up, staring at the sky, part of the underbelly of one of the ships. “I would enjoy it. I mean.”
“Good,” Luke says, sighs out really, in relief. Din could almost laugh.
“I should let you sleep,” he says, when he can’t think of anything to say. Din wants to keep talking, speaking about anything until the comm overheats and burns through his armor, until Luke falls asleep again and he doesn’t have to press the end button. “Sorry for waking you.”
“I don’t mind,” Luke reassures him. “Sleep well on…uh…”
“Plazir-15.”
“Plazir-15.” He can picture Luke seriously nodding along. He wonders if he should bring him sometime, if only to see him try to keep that composure when faced with the elected monarchs. “Sleep well there, and try not to get knighted.”
“I won’t.” That, at least, he can promise. Just a soldier in the hoard. That’s what he is now, and it’s what he will be until he needs to be something else. “Good night.”
“Night.” Luke’s voice turns soft again, just as he signs off, and Din can’t help but imagine hearing it in the flesh. He lifts a hand to his helmet, lets his fingers rest on the side. As in the flesh as he can be, at least.
He’s still thinking of it, when he rejoins the others.
** ** **
Luke feels like he’s vibrating. The Force seems to agree with him; animals look at him when he passes, plants tilt towards him like he’s a sun. Ashoka is too nice to say it, but he’s pretty sure he makes her teeth hurt wherever he stands too close.
He thought it was a dream, when it happened. Sleep deprived and a little woozy, Luke had fallen off almost right after they’d hung up; an hour later he’d sat bolt upright with his heart hammering in his chest, frantically scrolling through his comm record to make sure it was real. It was. It had happened. The conversation had come back in startling clarity, and he had been running it over in his mind ever since. Luke had debated what to say on the next call, pretend it never happened or lay it on even thicker. At the time, he had wished for his tired no-filtered mess of a mind, if only to make flirting easier.
Then, Din missed their next call. Luke had let his nail anxiously tap against the plastic until the rings had run out. It was no big deal, he told himself, because it had happened before. The two of them, Grogu and Din, had been somewhere where there was no coverage. Luke had no idea where it was, or if they needed to go back, but they could have. It was fine. Completely.
He misses the call after that.
And the one after that.
The third day is when Luke becomes uneasy. He decides to trek into the forest, find a quiet spot that hums with nature, and tries to meditate. It was a part of Jedi training he was great at, but he was desperate. Luke sat cross-legged, hands palm down on his knees, and reached. Grogu had found him before, through a beacon, but Luke was just reaching blindly. He aimed for the things that he knew about the little creature, drawing on those six months he had run around the woods with him strapped to his back, catching frogs, and watching him hop onto higher and higher branches. Grogu’s Force signature is not innocent, but a little charred around the edges; full of a sort of cautious love that leaves behind the smell of burnt sugar.
Din had barely any signature at all, aside from the faint pulse that all living things carry. Luke only reaches out for him in the broad sense, where one is the other is not far behind. He reaches until he feels his temples start to throb in time with his heart beat, grinding his teeth as he focuses, and then just boldly asks.
Where are you? What happened?
It could be yelling into the void, for all he knows, but then he gets something back.
Not a voice, not something so simple, but scattered images that flash behind his eyelids. A place, barren and gray, tunnels of damp rock and metal, a place that reminds him of the slick gloss the Death Star had. People, different colors and shapes, running and yelling, and then a tear. Someone gone, disappeared, the bowed head that gleamed silver. A father.
Another flash, the throbbing now from his temples to his eyes. He’s in front of the others, cords biting into his wrists, hands crossed over his chest. Constrained, nothing, the flawless white armour of troopers. Deeper, not in the present. Luke tries to pull himself back up; it’s like spikes are being hammered into his head. Fear and smoke, acrid on his tongue, bile burning the back of his throat. A woman draped in red placed him ( Not me, he has to remind himself through the haze, this isn’t me .) in a basement, the doors shutting out all light. A mother.
His whole head feels like it is about to burst. Luke pulls himself away, too fast and untrained, to the side instead of up. He slips out of the stranger's mind, not a stranger really because he recognized that faint pulse of fear for Grogu, and went back into his own. Too deep, not ready to be that deep. Someone else, crying, a young woman with brown sweat stained hair and tears in her eyes. Blood staining a white birthing bed. A heart beating slower and slower, snuffed out by violent darkness, and Luke begs himself to wake up. To look away. The heart slows. Stops.
His mother.
Ashoka told him later that she would have heard him even without the Force whiplash. Apparently he screamed, trying to pull himself out, a burst of power coming out at the same time. Animals fled, birds flew, small flowers and weeds withered to brown stalks.
He had been curled up in a ball, eyes rolled up and only showing the whites. His hand had been spasming, the circuits connecting the movement overheated, panicking, one part of his body thinking it was dying. Blood had been pouring out his nose, smeared down his chin and pooling on the forest floor.
“Something’s wrong,” he had whispered. No matter what Ahsoka said, he wouldn’t stop repeating it. “Something’s wrong. Something’s wrong. Something’s wrong.”
He gets stuck in bed, R2 and Ashoka hovering over him, as he sweats out a fever and mutters to himself
Yoda and Obi-wan would probably tell him to ignore it and keep building his school, keeping the Mandalorian out of his mind, being the perfect Jedi he was always meant to be.
But, he reasoned, they weren’t here, were they?
** ** **
Nevarro is peaceful, now that all of the problems have been solved. No one really comes out to their place, aside from a few visits from some happy citizens that want to extend their thanks to him and the Mandalorians, and he’s still waiting for a job. Well, healing and waiting for a job. His knee is twinging, and he wants full range of movement before going after any Imps.
He sits, watching Grogu waddle around in the small pond, babbling as a frog hops around him and splashes him with mud. Din fiddles with his comm, his heart roaring in his ears a little. He knows full well that Luke can handle himself, but he hasn’t responded to a single call in a week. Din feels a bit silly leaving another message, surely Jedi have more important things to do, but he hears himself saying it all the same.
“Hey. It’s Din, again. I just want you to know that the kid is fine, still. We’re both…fine.” Really, it’s sort of ridiculous that he keeps leaving the same message. “We’re still on Nevarro. Just, comm when you can. I’m…” He swallows. “I’m getting worried, Luke. Bye.” The click seems singular and final, like a door sliding shut. Grogu is staring at him from the pond, frog forgotten, ears slightly tilted up.
“Bah?”
“I know kid, I know,” he sighs. “He’s fine. He’s probably just busy, and can’t talk right now, or-” The engines of a fighter block out everything, kicking up some dust. Far enough away that the house doesn’t get splattered with mud or dirt, an X-wing lands, the panels of it sliding into place. Din recognizes the figure pulling himself out of the pilots seat, lithe and dressed in black, hair glinting slightly, He remembers that it’s blond, even if his helmet gives everything a bluish tint. “-he’s here.”
Luke only makes it within a few feet of the house, not even breathing heavily from the run, when Grogu jumps into his arms. Rather than put down the armfull of sopping wet child, Luke squeezes him tighter to himself. “Hey little guy,” he says, mouth turned up, happiness almost blazing from his face. “I’m happy to see you too.” He walks steadily, until he’s right in front of the porch. “Hi.”
“You’re here,” Din says, because that’s all he can think to say. Luke is still looking at him, in the eyes, an intensity that’s making his face heat up.
“You didn’t call,” he says, awkwardly, voice dipping a little. “I tried to reach out. It didn’t end well.”
“Oh?”
“Long story. Let’s just say I’ve finally stopped having migraines.” Luke laughs a bit, but his eyes turn down. Din wants to ask, to run inside and plunder his med kit, but he’s stuck standing there and staring. He wasn’t supposed to see Luke for another few months; he is struck again by their last call, the lazy drop of his voice just roused from sleep, has the image of him in sheets with his hair messy.
“You’re okay. I’m glad.”
“It’s you two I was worried about,” he says, lurching forward. Then he’s there, gloved hand on his shoulder, Din imagines he can feel it all the way through the beskar. “Are you alright? What happened a few days ago?”
“It’s complicated,” Din starts, and Grogu giggles from Luke’s side. “There were some Imperial remnants that gave us a little trouble.”
“What?!” Luke's hand rises, cups the side of his helmet. If it was gone, he would be cupping Din’s cheek. He closes his eyes, breaths out slowly, resists the urge to lean in. “Did they do anything to you? Did they hurt you?” He looks down at Grogu. “You okay?”
“Mhm.” The kid has no qualms about physical contact, fully settled in and comfortable being cradled.
“Luke.” Din raises one of his hands, grasps the Jedi’s wrist. He can feel Luke’s pulse, a steady beat, the hard edge of metal along the edge. A prosthetic, Din realizes, and wonders who could have possibly hurt him like that; there's a spike of anger, the idea of that person still being out there a spark in his chest. An irrational urge, the same sense of ending that came with the need to kill Moff Gideon. “We’re alright. I promise.”
“I wanted to come help you. I’m sorry I’m late.” His mouth ticks up, a little mournful. Grogu huffs, reaches up until Luke lets him wrap his little arms around his teacher’s neck.
“You already saved us once,” Din replies. “You taught him well enough that he saved me.” Sometimes he still thinks of the carnage of the hallway on that Cruiser, smoking droids, Luke calm and not even sweating. Grogu has two good teachers, but the Jedi tricks do seem to come in handy more often than not.
“Still,” Luke whispers, “still. I should have been there.”
“No,” Din says, voice a little hoarse. “I should have called.” At that, Luke’s eyes widen, and he starts to laugh. He takes it in, the Jedi with his eyes squeezed shut, teeth showing. Grogu, his son, babbling happily and hanging onto his neck like it’s a lifeline. No one bothers them on Nevarro. Maybe it’s time someone does. “Do you want to come inside?”
Luke looks at him, squeezes the child and inclines his head to the door. Din keeps the colors of him, blue sky eyes and sunshine hair, black clothes with a scrap of white at his collar. He wonders if Luke thinks of his face, that bare glimpse he saw. He wonders about what Mandalorians do now, if they can all walk in both words.
“I would love to.”