Chapter Text
The Diner had been open for two weeks when Dex found the kid. Or maybe he should say the kid found him. Dexter Jettser would never imagine that this one, chance meeting would not only change his life but also the fate of the galaxy (not that he was aware of the latter and he would never be), but there they were.
It was a quiet evening and there was nothing special about it. The business was slow. Not slow enough to bring losses, but slow enough for Dex to close a couple of minutes early and enjoy a chocolate milkshake in peace. He had one waitress so far, a droid called FLO, and he was currently on a search for its sentient counterpart and a good handful of clients every day.
All in all, for a new place, they were doing quite well. The food industry was, quite honestly, a BITCH. It was not easy for a food business in Coruscant to establish itself. There were tens if not hundreds of new bars, restaurants and diners popping up every month and for the business to survive, they had to be, most of all, lucky.
But Dex was determined. He loved cooking and he knew he was damn good at it. He invested all his savings into the place. Blood and toil of many years went into his little diner.
He was done with the Underworld. The last job did it. He was finished. He was ready for a new chapter in his life. It was high time to retire and he deserved it. You didn’t stay as long in the business as he did if you didn’t know when it was the time to bid it goodbye. And, as much as weapon dealing was bringing in big bucks, big bucks meant nothing if you were dead.
Most of all, Dex was tired. Tired and lonely and done with the backstabbing assholes that his old client base consisted almost solely of. He still had his network of contacts and he intended to use it (a little side business dealing information was currently helping them stay afloat while the Diner was taking off), but he wasn’t the youngest, not even for a besalisk, and it seemed that the youngsters were getting more and more ruthless. There used to be order and structure to the Underworld dealings back in the day. Now? You were more and more likely to end up with a bullet in the back at the end of the deal. Happened to a few good friends of Dex’s. He was not ready to follow.
It wasn’t easy. Of course, it wasn’t. Opening the Dex’s Diner was an easy part. Keeping it afloat and making sure it became a permanent feature of CocoTowan was a difficult one. But he had a good feeling about it. It was going to be worth it.
He took a look around, once again surprised at how it all came together, almost exactly like he imagined it. Red booths with little, white tables, his kitchen with a proper grill and stove and well-stocked spice rack and pantry, posters at the wall and big windows with neons in them.
A loud, banging noise brought him out of his thoughts. It came from somewhere in the back, where the employees’ entrance was propped open while he cleaned up, to make it easier to take the trash out.
Dex froze.
Did they find him? There were several people who were, let’s say, displeased by his exit. He thought he made it clear enough that he was done and he covered his tracks, selling the last of his stock. Even so, there was a reason he kept his trusty blaster under the counter.
Before he realised what he was doing, the fingers of one of his four hands were wrapping around the weapon.
It was better to check it out and for it to turn out to be nothing than to leave it and end up with a bullet in his back.
Slowly and as quietly as possible, he made his way outside. At first glance, there was nothing there. It was quiet. Too quiet. The streetlight in front of the building was barely reaching here, but his eyes made it quite easy to see in the dark so he carefully scanned the dark alley, stopping at the end of the stairs. He waited.
And then he saw it.
There was a dark, very still shape, trying to hide behind one of the bins, to melt with the shadows. If not for Dex’s besalisk eyes, they would probably have managed.
“I know you're there.” Jettser pointed his weapon at the potential opponent. “Get out,” he growled.
He was pretty sure the dark shape started trembling, just for a second, before they stilled again.
“I said. GET OUT,” he switched on the light on the blaster, still keeping it trained on the target and as he did it, the opponent sprang up, hands ready in the defensive stance, although he was weaponless and launched himself at Dexter, attempting to reach the weapon.
The light managed to illuminate the attacker before their attack could succeed, another of Dex’s arms grasping them and holding them still with one of his other arms.
It was a human (or close enough) whelp. Dexter always had a problem with guessing human ages but it was clear that this one was young, they looked… Maybe around human ten? Definitely too young to be in CocoTown alone at this time of night. They were clean enough, dressed in some old, ratty clothes (if you could call them clothes), with golden-red hair and pale, freckled skin. They were painfully skinny… No, it was not skinniness. The child (he was not entirely sure of the gender either - it was hard to tell with them when they were tiny), was starved. There was not an ounce of fat on them, their arms, currently desperately and helplessly digging into Dex’s shoulder in futile attempts to free themselves, were needle-thin and blueish eyes surrounded by dark, jarring circles seemed too big in their gaunt, sunken face.
And those eyes… No child should have eyes like that. There was panic in them, yes, and determination, but they were also so… Old. The Besalisk could tell that the child saw things. Terrible, terrible things. They were heaving now, trembling, their bony, dry-skinned hands curled up into tiny fists.
Dex lowered his weapon and released them instantly.
They stood there, in front of him, their eyes focused on Dex’s face, but jumping to the Besalisk‘s weapon, almost involuntarily, probably calculating if they would be able to snatch it.
Like a cornered animal.
“Hey-ooo, kid,” he said, sequestering the blaster in the holster on his belt, the kid’s eyes never leaving the movement. “It’s okay. I’m not gonna hurt ya. I’m sorry for pulling a weapon on ya. I expected an old acquaintance.” One of many perhaps. Dexter Jettster didn’t make a habit of pulling weapons on children.
What do you even do in a situation like that? He couldn’t just leave, especially since the child looked terrified and ready to fight at the same time. There was something so… Sad about them, that Dex just… couldn’t leave them to their own devices.
“I’m Dex,” he introduced himself but he got no answer. “This is my restaurant,” he pointed at the building behind them.
“I’m not gonna hurt ya,” he repeated, taking a careful step back.
The child still flinched at the movement and Dex couldn’t help but wonder what in the kriffing hells had been done to them. And who did it. Because he would kill them. He always had a soft spot for children and well…
“Are ya hungry?”
Something greedy appeared in their eyes at the mention of the food, just for a flash second, before they covered their expression with a careful, blank mask.
Then they shook their head, even if you could see that it cost them an enormous amount of effort.
They clearly didn’t trust him, their posture so stiff, it couldn’t be comfortable. The firearm was probably the only reason why they haven’t bolted yet.
He didn’t know what possessed him to do what he did next, and when he thought about it in the years to come, that spontaneous decision was probably the reason the following events evolved the way they did.
“Here,” he extended his blaster to the child.
They stared at it for a long, long moment, not even blinking.
“Take it,” he shook it a little, still holding the weapon out to the kid. “If I try to hurt ya, ya can shoot me,” he said. He could be signing his death sentence here (and wouldn’t it be a way to go? Shot in the alley behind his restaurant by a street urchin with his own blaster that he released on his own volition), but something in him was telling him that it wouldn’t happen. The child didn’t seem to mean him harm. And Dex was always good at reading people. He could tell (or so he hoped).
Gingerly, pale fingers wrapped around the hold in a way that suggested that the kid clearly knew what to do with it. Something in Dex broke at the sight.
“Wait here,” he said. “I will be right back,” he promised. He was not going to try to coax the kid inside when they were clearly on the verge of a panic attack even being around him. They were smart enough not to trust strangers and it was very unlikely that they would follow.
He was not entirely sure what to give them, and walking to the kitchen, he looked into his fridges morosely. As skinny as they were, if Dex gave them a wrong thing, he was risking making them sick. Or worse. He didn’t know much about the science of it all, but he saw a big chunk of the galaxy and it was not the first time he was around someone who was starving. Finally, after a short deliberation, he settled on some leftover soup, some plain, soft bread and some fruit. He set aside two peanut butter sandwiches and some nutribars for later as well.
He couldn’t do much, but at least he could feed them. It was not like he didn’t have food to spare.
To his surprise, both the kid and the blaster were there when he went back outside, shuffling nervously. They still looked ready to run but relaxed a bit when they saw food in his hands. They probably decided it was worth taking a risk if that meant they would go to sleep with their stomach full.
“Here.” He carefully set the containers down on the stairs. “I would get ya a house burger and some fries, but I’m not entirely sure your stomach would like it very much. Make sure ya pace yourself, righty’o? I know ya are probably very hungry, but it’s easy to overdo it…” ‘when you starve for a long time’; he wanted to say.
The child nodded before he had a chance though. “I know,” they mouthed but no noise actually left their throat.
Carefully, they took a seat on the stairs on the side opposite from the Besalisk and reached out for the dish and cutlery.
It looked like it took all their self-control not to snatch them.
Dex had not signed up for this when he got up in the morning. He was expecting a regular, easy day, maybe some annoying customers but not… Whatever this was.
He sighed heavily.
“Your folks around?” he settled on the side of the stairs opposite the child, stretching his legs in front of himself.
They must have made a sight, the Besalisk towering over the tiny figure of the kid almost comically but there was no one there to see them.
The redhead carefully pulled off the lid of the container, spoon slowly lowered into the potato soup. They momentarily gazed up from his food to look up at Dex and shook their head. Then, they carefully started to eat and they were clearly forcing themselves to go slowly.
“No?” even if they were, Dex was not necessarily convinced that they were fit guardians looking at the state of the kid. “Do ya want me to get some judicials to come?” not ideal, considering his history with law enforcement, but the safety of a child took a precedent to it. “Social services would be able to take ya somewhere safe for the night,” he added.
A very desperate headshake.
The kid looked spooked, almost like they wanted to run, but they were also clutching on the soup, seemingly not able to decide whether fleeing was worth wasting the food.
Dex sighed again.
“Are ya in some kind of trouble?” nobody escaped without a reason. Dex saw a number of displaced kids throughout his life and there was always a reason, sometimes more nefarious than other times.
A shrug was his answer. Kark, Dex didn’t remember when was the last time he saw such a bony shoulder.
“Do ya not talk at all?” he asked quietly. They were yet to say a word. Maybe they couldn’t or didn’t know how.
Another shrug and then they pointed at their throat and shook their head again.
So they didn’t.
Dex felt a sigh escape him. Of course, nothing in his life could be easy, even talking with a street kid had to have a hurdle over it. He was ready to jump over it though. And it was not like someone told him to talk to the kid. He just decided to.
“If I gave ya a datapad would ya write on it?”
They seemed to think it through for a moment and then nodded, hesitantly.
“Great.”
Another trip to Dex’s office later, they had a writing app pulled up on a datapad.
The kid cocked their head, looking at it curiously and then nodded towards Dex, probably to encourage him to ask questions.
Dex decided to focus on the basics.
“What’s your name?” he asked. For some reason the question seemed to take the child off guard. They froze, the spoon halfway to their mouth but after a moment they reached for a pad and carefully typed in a very short answer.
Ben.
“Nice to meet ya, Bennie,” Dex said jovially, relieved that this manner of communication worked. You couldn’t really have much of a conversation with shrugs and nods even if you had Ben’s expressive face.
As if on cue, the child pulled a face on him. They seemed to be relaxing slightly. Or maybe it was just the feeling of a full stomach that lulled them into a sense of security.
“Ya don’t like that?” Dex laughed quietly.
They shook their head vigorously.
“Ben then,” the basilisk settled. “How old are ya?”
Fourteen standard.
“Fourteen?” even if Dex spent little time with small humans, he was pretty sure they were not supposed to be that small at fourteen. They should be starting… What was it called… The thing that everyone joked about. With pimples and mood swings and… Ah. Puberty.
Ben nodded, something quite frustrated appearing in their eyes.
“Pardon me. Ya just… seem smol. Even for a human. Are you even human? I must apologise but y’all look awfully similar to me.”
The kid was glaring and it shouldn’t be as hilarious as it was but he seemed to be only a step away from puffing out his cheeks and the mental image of that was… Impossibly cute. Dex decided it was better not to point it out. He had a feeling that teenage pride might have been offended incorrigibly.
I’m human. Male. As Ben typed, he was still glaring at the screen. In the meantime, he finished with his small portion of soup and moved onto bread, breaking it, into tiny pieces and slowly putting them into his mouth one after another.
“Oki-doki-hockey, little human. No reason to be so prickly about it. Watch out or ya face is gonna be set in a permanent scowl and ya ain’t gonna grow up to be handsome.”
Another glare, this time a bit softer and more… sassy.
So the boy did have a sense of humour. He could joke.
“Do ya have anywhere to stay?” Dex decided to stir the conversation back to the main topic at hand, to the topic he worried most about.
A nod. Quick. Terse. Final.
“Do I wanna know where ya gonna be staying?” he had an unpleasant feeling in his stomach that he didn’t. Coruscant Undertown was no place for a lonely child. There were all manners of criminals and creeps around. Yes, there were worse places to be homeless (although maybe Ben wasn’t homeless, maybe it was just an assumption on Dex’s part) without a regulated climate and thousands of potential food sources, and with legal slavery (not that people didn’t get snatched on Coruscant, especially when they were a child for whom nobody was looking out for - yes, another assumption, alright). “Ya probably not gonna tell me either way, are ya?”
Another head shake.
“It’s fine if ya don’t wanna talk about it. I just worry. You are but a little tyke and the world is not a pleasant place,” somehow, he had a feeling that Ben already knew that from first-hand experience and something in him was angry at that thought. “Ya sure ya don’t wanna take a truck to a station or a shelter with me? It’s dangerous to be out there on ya own.”
Ben seemed to be thinking for a long, long while and then very slowly and very carefully reached for the datapad.
They will take me back. He typed out.
A runaway then, alright.
“And that’s a bad thing?”
They don’t want me. I’m not good enough.
There was so much sadness in his eyes when he typed that out. It was like someone broke the kid’s heart and left it in pieces and, at least in the child’s eyes, it was better for him to be alone than with the people who didn’t want him.
What else could Dex do? He didn’t want to drag the boy to the station by force. He didn’t want to scare him, more than he already did. He didn’t want to lose that flicker of understanding that they seemed to have now. The sole fact that the kid took his food and was willing to sit barely a meter away even if he still looked like a very likely flight risk was a sign of trust. And Dex was not sure whether the police’s intervention was worth spooking him. Then he would probably never see the kid again.
“Okay,” Dex slowly exhaled. “If ya ever in trouble or hungry, ya can come here, gotcha?” he said in the end. It could be a mistake. It probably was a mistake.
Thank you Mr Dex. It’s very kind.
Kind, Dex’s ass.
He still had half-mind to go and make a report to the judicial services, but they would be quite likely to just return Ben to his guardians without investigating properly. It was obvious that something was wrong there, especially considering the state the kid was in, that deep primal fear in him, Dex could tell it was connected. But the system was overworked and they didn’t have time and so often troubled children slipped through its fingers.
“Why CoCoTown?” he asked to distract himself from the anger that started boiling underneath.
It’s close to the docs. You’ve got a good view of who’s coming and going.
“Ya are trying to get off the planet?”
A hesitant nod.
“Are ya going anywhere specific?”
Not wanted anywhere.
The boy finished with his food and he put all the containers up in a neat pile, slowly getting up.
To Dex’s surprise, he bowed, all prim and proper and then handed back both the blaster and the datapad, with one, last sentence, shown on the app.
You are good for an Elder, Mr Dex.
It was a strange statement but Dex didn’t pay much attention to it. Not at that particular moment. He would, later on, when he finally learned where the kid came from and what happened to him, but for now, he was more focused on how his heart tightened unpleasantly at the thought of letting the boy go just like that.
“It’s just Dex, kiddo,” he said tiredly. Suddenly, he felt very, very tired, like some enormous weight settled on his shoulders.
“Take this with you,” Dex thrust a package with sandwiches and nutribars into the kid’s hands even as the redhead started to shake his head furiously. “I insist. I have more than enough. And remember what I said. If ya need anything, come here, copy that?”
As he watched the kid disappear into the artificial night, merging seamlessly with the shadows like he had way too much experience using his environment to disappear, he never felt more useless.
***
As the days passed, Dex thought about Ben quite often. He couldn’t help it. He worried. It wasn’t his business and he was a hardened criminal (well, not exactly “hardened” but the “criminal” part was still legit), but there was something about the kid that just stuck out to him and wouldn’t let go. He hoped he was okay. He really, really hoped the boy was fine and nothing bad happened to him. Well, nothing worse than it had before their paths crossed
Dex’s Diner slowly gained traction. He started seeing some regulars, especially with the local dock workers and pilots. It was a colourful and interesting crowd. They would come, bring their stories from far and near, drink their coffee and eat their grub and fill the Diner with chatter and laughter and live. Dex slowly found his footing. It was working, his talent in the kitchen was confirmed. His cooking was not only good enough to bring in customers. It was good enough to retain them and that was a much higher praise. He was still working on it. He tweaked the menu, he employed a sentient waiter, Hermione, he listened to the customer feedback...
It was all working out.
It was the most peaceful and stable he felt in a long, long time.
Come to think of it, it was probably too peaceful for too long. He started to get complacent.
The second time Dex encountered Ben and the chaos that seemed to inevitably follow the boy, happened roughly two and a half weeks after that first meeting.
It was in the middle of the week, but right before the lunch rush hour so the Diner was usually quite busy. For that reason, it was quite surprising that for a good ten minutes nobody went in until, finally, a solitary Toidarian appeared.
“Crazy. People are going crazy,” he muttered on his way to the booth.
Dex was always happy to chat with the customer. It was the best part of the service after all.
“And why is that?” he asked conversationally.
“Look outside,” the Toidarian waved his hand at the window. “There is a kid beating a shit out of some poor ship captain. He was trying to stow away or something and…”
Dex didn’t wait for the “and”, he was already by the window. And as soon as he looked out, he swore loudly.
He hoped that it wouldn’t be The Kid. He had a feeling that it might, but he didn’t really want to get involved in any fights. Unfortunately, all the luck the universe dealt him must have been used up on his business because it definitely was The Kid.
Ben looked rougher than the last time Dex saw him. His clothes were even more scruffy and he was caked in a layer of dirt and Dex didn’t necessarily want to know where it came from. He was also holding a human in a scissors leg-hold by the neck, wrapped around him like a little octopus.
Dex was out of the door before he could think it through.
When he got closer, pushing through the crowd of onlookers, he instantly realised that something was very wrong. The boy’s eyes had a glassy, absent look to them.
And Dex instantly knew.
Ben wasn’t here, not in this particular moment. He wasn’t fighting the ship captain, not really. He was lost in his head, probably relieving something deeply unpleasant.
Dex had seen it before. Never in one so young, mind you, but he did. Considering that Ben was fourteen and blanked out like traumatised soldiers and fighters sometimes did was heartbreaking.
And if someone didn’t step in, the kid would do something he would regret later. No one did anything. No one stepped in. No one reacted. They were just staring, nobody cared as long as they got a show.
Dex couldn’t just leave the situation to play out. He wouldn’t forgive himself… The boy deserved better.
“Ben!” he shouted but it didn’t seem like the boy heard him, tightening his hold on his opponent (?) even more. The human coughed and his struggling grew weaker and it didn’t seem like he was going to free himself. Ben clearly knew what he was doing.
“Kriff that,” Dex thought. He would apologise later.
So he did the only thing he could think of doing. He grabbed the boy, who wriggled in his grasp, instinctively trying to fight a new attacker, trying to twist and turn. Dex held on tightly (although he tried not to do so too tightly, he didn’t want to hurt the kid accidentally), even if Ben did his best to attack him.
“Ben. Ya need to snap out of it,” Dex whispered, carrying him away from the crowd. “Ya are safe. Nobody is going to hurt ya here, okay?” rich coming from someone who was holding the child against their will.
As they walked towards the Diner, the struggling finally grew weaker but didn’t stop. Before Dex managed to round the corner and enter from the back, the police droids finally showed up.
“He’s with me,” Dex said while two droids stood in front of him. “The kid had a panic attack. He will apologise once he can,” he snapped before they managed to say something. He hated the blasted things. That’s where the budget cuts came in. It was simply cheaper to use non-sentients. Cheaper but it meant no situational judgment or empathy that sentiments had.
“The offence was reported. We must apprehend…”
“There was no offence. It was just a misunderstanding. The citizen over there doesn’t hold a grudge,” Dex nodded towards the human, looking at the humanoid with his famous death glare. He didn’t have much use for it nowadays, but, kriff, the kid was trembling and he looked small, so small in his arms, like hell Dex was letting him get arrested.
The ship captain nodded, gulping widely. Nobody wanted to anger a territorial Besalisk. Dex didn’t realise that he was doing it, but he was protecting the boy like he would one of his own.
Oh, he was so fucked.
“No, of course not,” the captain rasped out.
Thankfully that was that. As long as the complaint hasn’t been logged, the droids should let them go, without dragging them to the station (he could let them take the kid and maybe it would have been better but something in him revolted at the idea).
Finally the droids let them go and they managed to get away from the crowd and into the quiet alley behind the Diner.
Blue-grey eyes blinked at him slowly, heavily.
“Ya with me, Twig?” Dex asked quietly.
It looked like Ben was finally able to draw a breath. His eyes grew clearer, more focused. He relaxed slightly when he realised he was being carried by Dex which was quite surprising, but the besalisk wouldn’t look a given horse in the mouth.
The boy gestured at himself and then at the crowd, trying to ask what happened, confirming the suspicion that he blanked out on it.
Dex decided there was no point keeping him in the dark. He would find out either way and, in his experience, it was always better to bite the bullet than live in the dark. The uncertainty usually took a much bigger toll on the one uncertain when the answers could be given.
“I reckon, ya were trying to sneak in onto that guy’s vessel and he caught ya. Then ya went a bit ballistic on him. Wasn’t there to witness most of it, but it looked quite… Where did ya learn to fight like that, kiddo?” the kid fought like an angry nexu and he was deadly. Fighting like that didn’t come from practice, not really. Or maybe not just from practice. It mostly came from experience.
The kid flinched, a full-bodied thing, and started gesturing widely. Dex guessed it meant something along the lines of “Was anybody hurt?”
“Just a tiny-winy-itsy bit. He will be fine,” Dexter attempted to calm him down.
The kid’s shoulders slumped in what could only be called relief.
“It was not your fault, kiddo,” Dex said, slowly setting him on the ground. The boy leaned heavily on the closest wall, still unsteady on his feet. “What do ya say? Ya wanna grab a bite? Ya look dead-tired.”
Ben started to shake his head, but Dex was not having it. He had an innate need to feed the poor sod even if he couldn’t do anything else. Ben looked so beaten, so sad and resigned and Dex didn’t know how to help but…
“Come now. I will get ya a house special today if ya think ya can handle it,” he added and finally, yet again, the hunger and tiredness must have won over hesitation and distrust because Ben nodded tiredly.
Dex didn’t wait. He marched the redhead to the diner, through the staff area towards one of the booths and then ushered him onto the seat before the kid could change his mind.
“Welcome to my kingdom,” he said, proudly. “It’s not much, but it’s mine. Let me know if ya want anything from the menu. I will be back with that burger in a moment. Ya make yourself at home.”
Soon enough, he was putting a nerfburger in front of the boy (as well as a portion of fries and packets with nutribars and sandwiches for later).
“Who’s that?” Hermione asked, coming to stop by his station, nodding towards the ragged, dirty figure of the child curled up miserably by the window.
“That’s Ben,” Dex said in a voice that suggested that was enough explanation.
What else was he supposed to say though? The boy was not exactly a friend, not even an acquaintance. Dex met him barely two times. It was not even that he pitied him, but he just… He couldn’t just leave the kid.
“You’ve got your heart on your sleeve, Dex,” the waitress shook her head, her blue eyes more than sceptical. She was probably expecting them to get robbed, and the basilisk couldn’t really blame her. This low on Coruscant you had to look out for yourself, mostly and the crime was rampant. The law enforcement was mostly concerned with the order in the Higher Levels. Letting a homeless kid into your business was just not something you did if you wanted to keep said business afloat. “One day you are going to pay for it.”
That was when the afternoon rush started. Dozen or so orders flew in at once, and Dex barely had the time to set the kid up with his food before he got thrown into the rush. When he looked up the next time, the kid and the food Dex packed for him were gone. Only a paper napkin remained, and a shaky “Thank you” scribbled on it with a clearly trembling hand.
***
For the first time in his life, Dex was developing a routine. He would get up at six in the morning. He would make a kaff, watching the early-morning rush of the passersby from the window of his cramped, small living room, sitting on the well-loved, brown couch he got on the flea market. There were a couple of suspicious stains on it, but it was also impossibly comfortable, and he dozed off once or twice while taking his morning kaff (but no one had to know about that). Then, around seven, he would make his way to the Diner and open it up. Hermione and Flo would come in at eight and so the day started.
This particular morning, he slept in, so he had to skip kaff and practically ran to work which meant he wasn’t exactly conscious on the way. He was late. Good fifteen minutes late, so he rounded the corner at full speed, but before he could open the doors, he… froze.
To be completely honest, he wasn’t expecting Ben, although maybe he should. He didn’t see the boy in the past month and he thought that the redhead finally made it off the planet, like he wanted to do.
But he clearly didn’t.
The boy was asleep at the stairs to the employee entrance. He was curled up in himself, his uneven, shoulder-length copper hair now looking more brown than red. He had a black eye and a split lip and his worn clothes were torn in places and hung off his tiny frame, more bruises picking out from underneath.
Something bad happened to him. Or rather more bad things.
Dex sighed heavily, crouching in front of the child, ignoring the pain in his old, shaky knees.
Something had to be done. He couldn’t just do… nothing. He did nothing long enough. The boy needed help. He probably came to the Diner because he didn’t have anywhere else to go. And Dex could do something. And he could keep telling himself that it wasn’t his business, but it was. He didn’t know the boy well, but he did care and Ben clearly needed someone.
“Ben,” slowly, delicately, he shook Ben’s shoulder.
The boy jumped, getting on his legs instantly, arms lifted in a defensive position.
“Easy, kiddo,” Dex lifted all his four hands up. “Easy. It’s just me. It’s Dex. You’re on Coruscant. You’re safe,” he said calmly.
Scattered, blue eyes focused on him and the boy took a deep breath.
“Do ya want to come inside?’ Dex asked softly. ‘Ya can have a nap on the couch in the office. I don’t have a shower here, but ya could clean yourself up in the sink as well. Sounds good?”
A nod. Slow and shy and unsure.
“Good,” Dex nodded. He got the keys out of his pocket and opened the doors. Ben limped after him warily, clearly favouring his right leg. Whatever or whoever got him, got him good.
“Come on in, come on in,” he went inside, nodding at the kid to follow before he got spooked and ran away again.
Dex had to admit was disappointed the last time when Ben. A bit. He hoped that the boy would stay longer. To figure out how to help him.
Dex was never the helping type, not for free. He was always the “for the profit” type. But children were an exception. Only the most heinous of sleemos would hurt a child and he always refused to work with anyone who would. Everyone had to draw a line somewhere. That was Dex’s.
“Home sweet home,” Dex said, as they entered his office. It was small, painted the same colours the Diner was, grey with red accents. There was a desk, his datapad with the ledgers on it, a couch, a couple of chairs and a holopicture of Dex cutting the ribbon on the door on the day of the opening on the wall. Nothing fancy, but it served its purpose. “And before ya ask, no I don’t live here. Haven’t achieved that level of workaholism yet. It just feels more like a home than my hovel of a flat ever will, gotcha?”
The redhead nodded, weakly and somewhat numbly. He was clearly not… well. He moved slower with a clear effort and he seemed withdrawn and lifeless. He coughed quietly as well, fits wracking through him with a concerning strength.
“Do ya want something to eat?” Dex asked, deciding to coax the boy into staying a bit longer before getting to the serious talk. Nothing helped a difficult situation like food did.
Another careful nod.
“Ya go clean up and I shall make ya my famous bluurra fruit pancakes,” Dex nodded. It was one of his favourite recipes. “Ah. Wait up a second. Here,” he bent to reach one of the shelves, where he stocked the extra goodies he got a few weeks ago, just in case the boy turned up again. There was a towel, a toothbrush, a trial of toothpaste and a set of clean clothes - a long-sleeved shirt, boxers, socks and a pair of trousers that looked roughly to be the boy’s size.
Dex was prepared this time.
The boy was opening his mouth probably to refuse them, but Dex was having none of it.
“Before ya say that ya can’t take it, I got them on a flea market for like a credit each. You can give it back one day when ya have some cash to spare. Now, go while I whip up something magical, okay?”
Ben seemed to be too tired and roughed up to argue.
“There is a first aid kit in the staff bathroom as well,” Jettser added, almost like it was an afterthought. It wasn’t. The kid seemed to be not too keen on accepting help. He didn’t seem to trust easily, probably for a good reason and Dex had a feeling that if he offered to see to his injuries, the boy would refuse. So he didn’t. He left it to the kid, so Ben could do it himself and be sure that Dex wasn’t out to get him.
With the kid in the bathroom, Jettser set out to finally open the Diner while also making the pancakes and his long-overdue kaff. Going through the motions (switching on the lights, taking out the signs and making sure everything was stocked up), made him think through his next steps. He had to be careful here, not to spook the child…
Ben emerged from the bathroom, much cleaner, but still wide-eyed, still limping slightly with his dirty clothes held in a tight bundle against his chest like they were his most prized possessions when Dex was flipping the last pancake onto the plate.
“Have a seat,” he urged softly and Ben shuffled into the seat in “his” booth, where Dex already prepared the datapad and cutlery.
“Listen kiddo,” he slid into the seat opposite the boy, setting the plate in front of him. “I don’t want ya out on the street. I don’t know what happened but it seems nasty and to be completely honest with ya I’ve been worried for ya for quite some time which is not good for my old heart, ya get me?” the boy looked up at him, surprised. Like he couldn’t comprehend the thought of someone caring about him in any manner, shape or form. “I would invite ya to my house but…”
The boy flinched.
“Yeah. That. Ya can sleep in the office if ya want from now on, okay? There is not much here regarding amenities, but I will get you some blankets and cushions and the couch is quite comfy if ya ask me.”
Why? The boy typed out.
“Because I can help ya. At least a bit. And when I think of ya there, alone on the streets, it feels wrong.” The boy’s shoulders slumped in shame. “Everyone needs a bit of help sometimes, Twig,” Dex said softly. “There is nothing shameful about it or in accepting help when it is willingly offered. Can ya do it for me? Can ya stay here, so I don’t die of worry?”
He could see that the boy wanted to refuse. That he was wrestling with himself. That he seemed hurt and exhausted and thorn. Finally, after a very, very long time, it must have got too much because he nodded weakly with something akin to defeat.
Dexter felt very pleased with himself.
Now, he had to press while the iron was still hot.
“Two more things. I want ya to see a healer…”
Ben started to shake his head.
“Someone got ya good, kid. I just want to make sure that there is no internal damage, okay?”
Bony fingers reached out for the datapad. There is none.
“How do ya know it?”
I just do. I would know if something was wrong. This is nothing, I had much worse.
Jettser stared at the message. The kid was clearly beaten up and he claimed to have had worse. Gods, the Besalisk really wanted to drag him to the healers, now. But the boy was on edge again, all jagged and ready to run and Dex couldn’t have him running, not when he barely got him to agree to stay on the couch.
“Fine. Have it your way. But if ya feel any worse, ya let me know, okay?”
Hesitant nod. That was probably as good a Dex was going to get for now. He was not resigning. He was just picking his battles.
“There is one more thing, kiddo. I know that you don’t want it either but I need to talk to the judicials…”
Desperate headshakes.
“I could be accused of kidnapping if I don’t at least report ya, ya know?” Dex didn't want any unnecessary problems with the law. He just managed to leave a handful behind himself. “I have a friend in the police. She’s nice. She won’t be poking too much, but I will have to let her know that ya are here. No details, nothing more than ya are comfortable with. Ya don’t have to tell them anything if you don’t wanna, but I don’t want any trouble.”
The redhead bit his lip guiltily, wincing when he felt the split part of it. It wouldn’t be easy to convince him but Dex would take his time. They would get there.
***
Dex didn’t expect to use his Coruscant Police contacts quite so soon after his settlement on the planet, but there he was, eating his dinner, while Ben, wrapped up several colourful, fluffy blankets, settled for what was his fifth night in the office. It was a long week and it seemed that it was going to turn even longer, but when Dex closed the diner for the night and nipped into his office just to witness a mop of copper hair sticking out from a blanket pile, long out cold, it all seemed worth it.
Dex felt old. Older than he did before he found The Kid behind his trash can. This was not what he expected from his new life, but things rarely pan out exactly the way we expect them to, do they? And even if Jettster knew what was the right thing to do, he didn’t want to part with the kid. He wanted to find a way to keep him for good, to make sure that the boy was safe and taken for. Dex never claimed to be selfless.
And so, he had to play it right. He had to play it super-uber-careful.
He sighed (yet again) took out his comm and picked out the contact.
Tava Kras was not exactly a dirty cop. Or rather, she was the best of the dirty cops. She really cared - she just couldn’t stand the bureaucracy so she sometimes used unofficial channels to uphold the law. She and Dex had a working arrangement. He provided her with information. She had his back. She was a perfect candidate to get involved because she cared. And because she was a Bothan and Ben seemed to be even more nervous around humans.
“I got him to sleep here, Tava,” he said, after briefly explaining the situation. “He’s quite skittish. He doesn’t like adults a lot. Especially humans. Seems to be slightly better with non-humans. The kid is damned stubborn, though, I barely convinced him to accept some help.”
“What does he do?”
“I don’t ask. I know that he was trying to get off Coruscant for a while but I’m pretty sure he gave up on the idea for now. I’m almost certain he’s been keeping the thieves away from the Diner. Had the money disappear from the till from time to time but it stopped completely since he started to crash here,” he took a deep breath. “That kid… He saw some terrible things, I think. He wakes up ready to fight. He startles at the slightest noise. He went ballistic once when someone grabbed him and he screams at night.” And considering how he screamed and cried, those had to be some terrible nightmares. “I just wish there was more I could do.”
“You’ve done quite a lot already, Dex,” Tava said, shrugging. “Do you want me to look into his guardians?”
“Yeah but… discreet. Whatever happened to the kid was fucked up, Kras. I want the report on the system of his presence and maybe take a look at him and see if he’s on the database but otherwise… He doesn’t trust anyone. I don’t want to lose whatever little of his trust I have.”
***
The Kid had a special talent when it came to avoiding Tava. Somehow, he was never in the Diner when she came in. He would disappear and he would promptly re-appear as soon as she was gone, curled up in his favourite booth in the back of the diner from which he could observe all those coming and going, usually with the datapad Dex lent him in hand.
“Listen, Twig,” Dex would say. “I know ya don’t want to talk to the Judicials but…
A head shake. And a glare.
Teenagers. Kriff, sometimes Dex hated teenagers. (Note from the author: Dex wasn’t aware of it yet, but that would be a sentence he would repeat a lot in the coming years.)
At least Ben looked much better after a few weeks of sleeping in the Diner’s office. He was still thin, but slowly put on some weight. He didn’t get into any more fights. Most of the time, you couldn’t even tell that he was there at all - but small jobs would have been done around the dinner. Vegetables for the next day were chopped. Floors were mopped. Menus were re-arranged. Dex told him over and over again that Ben didn’t have to do anything, but it seemed impossible to convince him to stop. The boy was stubborn.
Either way, he seemed settled. Dex hoped that things were looking up.
Obviously, that was the moment when the Second Kid showed up. If Dex thought Ben-chaos was bad, well, The Second Kid was on a whole new level. Then again, what could one expect from the infamous Quinlan Vos?