Work Text:
26, 27, 28, 29… 30 ml. Din double checks the dosage, taps the excess drop off the needle and sets the half-full syringe aside. With a heavy heart, he opens the door to invite in the patient for the least desirable task in his job.
“Artoo?” Din has some trouble saying that with a straight face. Seriously, who names their dog Artoo? Like R2 but transcribed?
But as soon as he sees who is bringing the patient in, all amusement dies into respectful silence. There is a whole family in the waiting room, all in tears: father carrying the dog, tall body clad in a dark suit; mother who manages to look elegantly beautiful despite the trails of mascara smudging her high cheekbones; and two teenage kids, a blond boy and a brunette girl, either twins or otherwise very close to each other in age.
“I’m sorry”, Din says clumsily as he makes space for the family to step into his office, place their dog on the table and gather around it.
“Good bye, Artoo”, the father says with a lingering rub behind the dog’s ear. The dog itself whines in obvious pain. The faster they get this done the better for the suffering animal. Only, this is the first time Din is doing this in his first job out of veterinary school. And at school, teachers never explained how to tactfully squeeze between grieving family members to gift their beloved pet with a merciful death.
With nothing better coming to his mind, Din settles for grasping his syringe, clearing his throat and stepping between the kids, where he can access Artoo’s upper thigh and the spot where the needle can dive in with the least amount of pain.
“It calms him down if I hold his paw while you inject”, the boy says through tears.
That stops Din in his tracks. Not because the request is unusual. During his short time in this job, he has already noticed how many pet owners like to hold their pet’s paw during whatever procedure he does. This time, though, it gives him pause, because this boy uses exactly the same words that run in cursive letters across the skin of Din’s lower back:
It calms him down if I hold his paw while you inject.
Those words were originally what drove him to apply for the veterinary school – along with the fact that he had always found it easier to connect with animals than with people. The possibility of a job, where he could primarily work with animals and also meet his soulmate, drew him in, and perhaps it was the destiny carried by the words on his skin that helped him get in despite his lower-than-average grades in high school. Stars aligned for him on the day of the entrance exam, and once he got in, he threw everything into studying to prove worthy of the admission. And after only a few months in his first job, the same stars bring his soulmate into his office – his soulmate who is currently inappropriately young and in grief over his dying companion. Din has imagined this moment to go very, very differently.
“Of course. This will be over in a minute”, Din responds softly, and from the way the boy stops crying and gapes at him, he knows that those words are written somewhere on his body, too.
Regardless, he has a job to do, and the magical moment of finding his soulmate is hardly a reason to keep an old and sick dog in pain any longer. So he resumes his task of sticking his needle into Artoo’s upper thigh and emptying the contents of the syringe in. Then, he takes a considerate step back to let the dog spent its final minute in relative privacy with its human companions who shed silent tears while listening to its last, wheezing breaths.
The family mutter their goodbyes and walk out with heavy strides, the father still carrying the now dead dog and the boy glancing back at Din as long as his office door stays open.
- - - s - - -
Next week, the boy is back, this time without a pet, just to say hello after work. And soon, his number is on Din’s phone and his voice in his ear every night before they fall asleep in their respective homes.
Din finds out that his soulmate’s name is Luke Skywalker, and now that he does not have a dog anymore, he develops new interests around fast motorcycles, astronomy and desert plants. He is approaching the end of high school and studying for the med school entrance exam, and some evenings Din finds himself staying up late questioning him about the latin names of human bones.
Despite Luke’s frequent suggestions, though, Din does not dare to actually date him – not as long as Luke is still underage. But Din cannot help but gravitate towards confiding in him, opening his heart in the long phone calls they share. The soulmate bond and the hormones it stirs up make it easy to talk to Luke and connect with him like Din has never connected with another human being. So much so that Din does not even panic that night when Luke asks, as bluntly as always:
“Din? Do you want kids?”
“I don’t know”, Din answers truthfully. “Do you?”
“Some days I think I want ten of them. Some days none at all.”
“Well, you’re young enough that you’re supposed to change your mind about that many times before deciding.”
“Doesn’t that mean that you’re supposed to know already?”
Din sighs. Either through the soulmate connection or in another wicked way, Luke can always coax a deeper answer out of him. Fumbling for words, he starts:
"I guess I'm - I’m afraid. You’re the first person I really connect with. I mean, my friends and colleagues are nice and we talk politely and all, but I’ve never before felt that someone gets me and I get them. Not with humans. Other species are different, easier to be with, just be and be understood. But I can't stop thinking... If we’d have a child – with a girlfriend or adopted or something like that – it would be human and…”
“And?”
Din has to squeeze the pillow next to him with the hand that is free from holding the phone, hard enough for his knuckles to go white. “And… What if the same would happen with our child? They would always remain a complete stranger to me, distant, alien, different of heart. And I couldn’t offer any kind of support for growing up, because we wouldn’t get each other at all. I could never forgive myself for what kind of a father I’d be.”
There is silence in Luke’s end for a while, then simply: “I see.” Just what Din loves to hear from Luke after revealing something painful. No deflection, no belittling, no trying to prove Din wrong, no unsolicited advice, none of those things that other people deal out so spontaneously.
Soon, they move on to other topics and silently decide to let the matter of kids incubate as long as it takes, with no rush to decide.
- - - s - - -
Once again, it is Luke whose advice Din thinks about asking first on the day when he receives an unusual request at work:
The email insists that the patient cannot be brought to the office but Din has to visit the provided address – alone.
Din already has his phone in hand, thumb hovering over Luke’s number in the Favorites section, but he thinks better of it when his eyes flick back to the email subject starting with a single word in capital letters:
[CONFIDENTIAL]
It cannot be a big deal, he resolves. He has heard that some of his colleagues do home visits when a patient cannot be brought in because their human companion is old or disabled or with otherwise limited mobility. This cannot be too different from that, just a routine check-up in a different place.
So well on time before the appointment, he packs a briefcase with the essential tools and medications and heads out, into his Honda Civic and towards the designated address.
Once arriving at the destination and getting out of the car, Din has to crane his neck back to take in the full height of the towers of the impressive jugend villa with its protruding windows and details highlighted with dark purple bricks. He presses the doorbell by the carved door, and a servant in a white uniform opens. Before Din is let in, though, he is handed a six-page document entitled in bold letters:
Non-disclosure agreement
Din takes his time reading how the document strips him off all rights to ever disclose anything he sees, hears or otherwise observes here, under threat of prosecution and fines in sums that sound astronomical compared to his salary. Still, he takes the pen handed by the servant and signs on the last page, on the slot reserved for his name. What could there be to worry about? He is here just to have a look at the pet and carry out whatever treatment it needs. No need to tell anyone afterwards, and thus no need to worry about the threats.
He is given another copy of the NDA to stuff in his briefcase. With the paperwork taken care of, Din is escorted through staircases and corridors covered with thick, dark red carpets, finally arriving at a spacious room on the top floor, decorated with deep colours and leather furniture. From the middle of the room, a trail of smoke travels towards the ceiling fresco from the cigar held in the dark fingers of an old but still well-postured man with noble features in a stern expression.
With a circular motion of his cigar hand, he invites Din further into the room, towards a table by the window. Next to the table, a figure of a younger man is crouched over something. When Din approaches, he straightens up, tucks his glasses higher on his nose and scratches his beard in a nervous move.
“Pleased that you could come. I’m Penn Pershing. This is Moff Gideon.” The younger man gestures at his companion who remains stoic and quiet. “Dr. Djarin, we are extremely concerned about…”
“Get to the point.” Moff Gideon speaks for the first time, in a calm voice with a cold tone. “We need our subject back in shape. Now.”
“His vitals are weakening.” Penn Pershing points at a monitor on the table – a monitor connected to a small bundle next to it. “I’m a medical doctor, but only for humans. This is beyond my skill.”
When Din gets close enough to see the bundle on the table, he can barely suppress a gasp. Between two blankets sleeps a little creature like none other Din has ever seen: its skin is pale green, eyes and side-pointing ears huge compared to the rest of its proportions. One of its arms (or forelimbs) is positioned over the blanket with IV tubing connected to the inside of the elbow. That arm ends in a hand with three, clawed fingers.
And I’m a recent graduate in veterinary medicine, and we never had any mention of this species at school, Din feels like saying and throwing his hands up. But he is paid for at least trying, so all he can do is take a deep breath, open his briefcase on the table and start an examination.
He listens to the little heart that flutters like a kitten’s; takes the body temperature that is low enough to resemble a rodent; observes the breathing that is alarmingly shallow like a pig’s in distress. After checking everything he has equipment for, the only conclusion he can think of is:
“Looks like he has lost a lot of blood.”
“I told you we were taking too much…” Pershing starts telling Gideon, who silences him with one look.
“And I am sure you can fix that, Dr. Djarin.” Gideon pronounces Din’s name with uncomfortable precision.
Din swallows and suppresses his urge to fidget under Gideon’s scrutinizing gaze. “Unfortunately, Mr. Gideon, there is nothing I can do. If his body behaves anything like a typical animal’s, he will recover as he generates new blood to cover the deficit. But you will have to let him rest, no strenuous effort in at least a week, preferably two, considering his size.”
Pershing gives Gideon a hopeful look that seems to say: That’s what I’ve been saying. But Gideon remains unimpressed. He walks over to the window, taps the butt of his cigar a few times and lets crumbles of ash fall into a crystal ash tray on the wide, stony window sill. Time stands still as he looks out and takes a slow inhale of the cigar and lets out a long puff of smoky breath. Only then does he say:
“Thank you, Dr. Djarin. You are dismissed.”
With a courteous nod, Din packs his things and casts a final, curious look at the helpless-looking creature sleeping on the table before heading out. The same servant is waiting behind the door to escort him away, and once he gets out of the front door and to the yard where his Honda Civic is parked, it is time to go back to the office. Only, there was something about the last, frightened look he saw on Penn Pershing’s face, something about the cigar-smoky room and especially about Moff Gideon that freezes him in place.
On a whim, Din puts his briefcase in the car but walks back to the villa. He carefully skips the front door, but not too far from it, he finds a rainwater pipe that runs down from the eave. On its way, it passes a wide, twelve-paned window on the top floor – the same window behind which Din just watched Gideon smoking.
Telling himself how stupid this is but unable to stop himself, he grabs the rainwater pipe with both hands and starts to climb. The way up gets him completely out of breath and his arms shaking with fatigue. But once up and next to the window, he manages to find a suitable spot where to set his feet and rest one arm at a time. Keeping carefully out of sight, he leans towards the glass, as far as he dares. It turns out just far enough to hear voices from inside the room:
“…like I said. I am extremely concerned we may lose the subject.” Pershing’s voice sounds frightened, and Gideon responds to it in as cold a tone as always:
“I am afraid I have not made myself sufficiently clear. The experiment will continue. Tomorrow. This is not a discussion.”
“But Sir…”
Sounds like Pershing’s next argument is not listened to, because the next thing Din hears is a faint trace of Gideon’s footsteps followed by a door opening and closing. At that moment, Din’s hands start seriously protesting for holding their grip this long, so he uses the last bits of his strength to climb down. Arms burning and breath panting, he hurries to his car and drives back to the office. But throughout the rest of the workday, he cannot get off his mind the pair of large, green ears covered sparsely in feather-fine, peachy hair.
That night, Luke calls him like clockwork to ask his usual question: “How was your day?”
Din tries to answer vaguely, but just as always, Luke senses whatever he is not saying aloud.
“Did anything special happen?” Luke asks.
Din thinks about the NDA with his name under it, and all the fines he might be paying for years if he breaks it... But it is Luke he is talking with. His soulmate. Sure, if he were to be prosecuted, they would show some understanding towards a soulmate bond.
“I visited a very interesting client.”
“Tell me more”, Luke prompts, predictably.
And Din tells. Everything. Finishing with how he climbed up the rainwater pipe to eavesdrop on what was discussed about the… Pet? Child? What was it even?
After he finishes, Luke only has four words:
“We have to go.”
“What do you mean?” Din secretly wishes Luke means what he thinks he means. Wishes Luke would validate the unreasonable, irresponsible, unprofessional urge he has felt ever since leaving Moff Gideon’s jugend villa.
“We have to go rescue him.“
I love you, Din wants to say. Aloud, he says: “But Gideon said the experiment will continue tomorrow.”
“Then we go tonight.”
“Are your parents going to let you?”
“They don’t have to know. We’ll leave right after they’re asleep. I’ll jump out of my window, and you’ll be waiting on the street in your car.”
I love you. I love you. I love you. My reckless soulmate who does with me exactly what needs to be done, even when it’s unreasonable and could get us both prosecuted.
“Alright.” Din sighs to steady himself. “I’ll pick you up in an hour, ok?”
“Ok. Let’s do this.”
Let’s do this – it turns out easier said than done. They are already dangerously close to the villa, when Luke points out that in all the spy movies, car lights are always turned off when approaching a target in secret. Thanks to that, they manage to make it to the yard under the cover of darkness. They use the same rainwater pipe to climb up, but this time, it goes slower when fumbling for grip in the dark. As a result, Din’s arms are screaming already when they get to the level of the window. He has to practically hold on to the pipe with his legs and force his hands to move despite their shaking so that he can fit a crowbar under the lower corner of the window.
If Luke feels any of the same, he does not show it, only maneuvers his own crowbar under the upper corner and whispers:
“Ready.”
On the count of three, they both yank at the same moment. The window does not open as easily as in the movies. They try again, and again, and again. But the ornamental window is not moving. Finally, with a frustrated huff, Luke swings his crowbar right through the glass with an ear-piercing crack. In the same move, Gideon's crystal ash tray flies from the window sill to the floor with a loud thud that spreads a ring of cigar ash around itself.
“Oops, now we rang the doorbell”, Luke says when a light flickers on in a lower window.
“Quickly.” Din finds a hold of the window frame and fits his feet on the sill and climbs into the room. His left calf and biceps sting with pain as the broken glass cuts through his clothing and draws blood. Luke follows right after him, and from his stifled grunt, Din guesses that he got cut in a few places, too. What was he thinking when bringing his soulmate here?
No time to think about it now. Footsteps are already approaching in the stairs and corridor behind the door. Din scoops the sleeping bundle from the table into the crook of his arm.
Right then, the door opens and the lights are turned on to reveal the figure of Penn Pershing in blue pajamas consisting of long pants and a tunic fastened with a fabric belt. Din knows they should flee, as fast as they can, but he cannot bring himself to it quite yet, not with how furious he is with this man who has been complacent to whatever has happened to the innocent being now hoisted securely under Din’s arm. So instead of pushing past Pershing to run away, Din confronts him and, with his most menacing expression, brings his crowbar up, hovering right next to the doctor's head.
“What did you do to him?”
“I protected him. If it wasn’t for me, he’d already be dead.” Pershing lifts both his hands in surrender, backing towards the corner like a threatened animal.
“You took his blood, for an experiment. What was that?” When Pershing only squeals instead of a response, Din moves closer and presses on: “What was that?”
“I’m under NDA. Please. Please don’t hurt me.”
Pershing bows his head and shakes in fear. Thank heavens, Luke realizes that it is just the right moment to let it go and run. So he nudges Din’s arm down and coaxes him to follow Luke out of the door, through the corridors and down the stairs. More doors open behind them and more steps join to follow them, but they run for their lives, until they are finally on the front door and on their way to the car.
Servants (who apparently either sleep in their white uniforms or change to those as their first priority) appear in the windows and run after them from the door. As Din drives out of the yard, they hear gun shots flying past, some hitting the hull of the car. With one hand, Din passes the child to Luke and pushes them both down, away from the reach of the bullets, as he does his best to crouch while still steering to the approximately right direction.
From the villa, three other cars head out to follow them. Din floors the gas pedal like he has never done and preys that he has enough gas for dropping their pursuit off. Why on Earth is he doing this with his soulmate, the most important person in his life, in the car? His soulmate and their… Din glances at the bundle in Luke’s lap. Luke is protectively bent over it, but under Luke’s bleeding shoulder cut open by the broken window, Din can see how the green child has cracked his eyes half open. His soulmate and their… child?
Din mentally slaps himself to stop any too deep thoughts while the street is moving under the car way faster than it should. Luke lifts his head enough to take a look back at the cars that are gaining on them.
“In the movies, everyone usually goes to the highway, to the opposite direction lane, when they’re chased”, Luke says, and Din has to admit that he has a point.
“And do you think it makes sense?”
“Well, we might as well try.”
With no better thoughts in mind, Din steers to the highway, down from the wrong junction, the one intended for exiting cars. Even at this hour, the lane is busy enough to force him to slalom through a stream of approaching cars. Behind them, the pursuing cars take the same route, trying to keep up with Din while avoiding hitting the other cars. One of them crashes loudly with an opposing car.
“One down.” Luke smiles victoriously. “I’ll call an ambulance for the people in the other car.”
Din goes on with the mad driving as Luke explains to the emergency number how there has been a crash on the highway. And another. Because right then they hear how another of their pursuers hits an innocent car driving toward them. With one more to go, they arrive at another junction, and Din gets an idea.
He makes a quick turn to drive up the junction, but midway, he suddenly turns around, back towards the highway. The car that follows him gets to do only the first turn but does not manage to follow him fast enough. Instead of turning back to the highway, the car goes out of control and spirals through the side fence.
Din and Luke let out a relieved breath as they settle back on the highway lane, this time towards the correct direction. When passing the two crash sites, Din slows down enough to see that the ambulance crews have arrived and are working on resuscitating the drivers and passengers. A weight falls off his heart when the scenes look like nobody has died.
A highway of thoughts still runs through his head: What if he is fined for overspeeding? What if his license is taken away? What if some of the people in the crashed cars got permanently injured?
But then he looks to the side, at Luke and the little bundle in his lap - the bundle that has fully opened his eyes now, two large, dark bulbs that are staring up at Din with wonder. That look makes this all worth it, even though he nearly got his soulmate and their child killed.
There is that thought again: his soulmate and their child. And this time, Din lets himself think it a little bit longer, even lets it bring a tentative smile on his face. Aloud, he says: "Luke, I love you."