Chapter Text
The gentle hum of repulsors rose from the hangar below, the pulse of the D5-Mantis resonating through the metal framework of the apartment above. Jason Todd rested against the viewport frame, the neon glow of Nar Shaddaa casting streaks of blue and red across his armour.
Behind him, a one-year-old giggled at a floating hydrospanner.
The tool wobbled, spun, then thudded onto the deck plates. Damian cooed, utterly delighted.
Jason exhaled through his nose. “You’re gonna tear this place apart before you can say hyperdrive.”
The boy’s tiny fingers glowed faintly, and the spanner lifted again—crooked, stubborn, alive with the Force. Jason snatched it mid-air before it took out the ceiling light. “Alright, that’s enough Jedi training for today, short-stack.”
The room was much larger than the slums most hunters called home. Once a docking suite for long-range patrol craft, Jason transformed it into a fortress-flat: reinforced durasteel walls, power dampeners, triple-locked doors, and a slight lift descending to the Mantis’s private bay. One corner housed a workbench cluttered with weapon parts and carbon scoring; another held a sofa that had endured many brawls and naps. The far end—the “nursery”—was enclosed by blast shields repurposed into safety panels. A cot sat there, surrounded by sensor nets and soft lighting.
From the corner, an ancient droid whirred to life. Its once-silver chassis was patched with mismatched plating, a relic of a war long forgotten.
“Observation: The miniature organic has resumed telekinetic activity, Master Jason.”
Jason didn’t even turn. “Yeah, I noticed, HK-62.”
“Query: Shall I engage non-lethal suppression measures?”
“No. He’s a baby, not a bounty.”
HK’s photoreceptor flicked orange. “Clarification: A very small, unpredictable Force-wielder. Probability of property damage—high.”
Jason smirked. “You sound jealous.”
“Statement: I was built to dismantle Jedi, not babysit one.”
“Guess you’re expanding your skill set.”
Damian clapped, babbling nonsense at the droid. A tiny spark leapt from his fingertips, making HK’s servo twitch.
“Displeased remark: The small human just interfered with my motor functions again.”
Jason groaned. “He’s not trying to kill you—yet.”
The bounty hunter scooped the boy up, balancing him easily on one arm. “Okay, little wing. Time for food before you start levitating the furniture.”
HK rolled toward the kitchenette, servos whining. “Advisory: Nutrient formula prepared per your last calibration. I still consider this degradation of my combat purpose.”
Jason chuckled. “Welcome to fatherhood, buddy.”
The droid’s manipulator arms mixed and warmed the formula with surgical precision. Jason set Damian into a modified feeding seat—a repurposed cargo harness with safety straps—and took the bottle HK handed him.
“Thanks,” he muttered.
“Unenthusiastic response: You are welcome, Master Jason.”
Damian drank eagerly, emerald eyes fixed on Jason’s scarred face. The noise of the city seeped through the walls—speeders, laughter, distant blaster fire—but in here the world felt quiet.
“Yeah,” Jason said softly, brushing a thumb across the boy’s cheek. “You’re trouble. Cute, but trouble.”
HK emitted a soft ping. “Incoming encrypted transmission, client class: criminal.”
Jason sighed. “Pull it up.”
The holo-table flickered. A Bothan’s face materialised, sleek fur, sharper smile. “Jason Todd,” the Bothan purred. “I hear you’re still breathing.”
“Mostly. What’s the job, Karr?”
“Retrieval. Small crate, sector six docks. Black Sun property. Discreet delivery, big pay-out.”
Jason frowned. “Black Sun doesn’t do discreet.”
“Then make them think they do.” The Bothan’s smile widened. “You in?”
Jason’s eyes drifted to Damian, still feeding, then to HK standing sentinel beside him. He owed rent, fuel, favours—and worse, he owed someone.
“I’m in,” he said.
The holo cut. HK’s head swivelled toward him. “Cautionary query: You intend to leave the offspring here with me?”
Jason pulled on his jacket, sealing the red plates across his chest. “You’ve got this. Keep him fed, keep him in the crib. No ‘non-lethal suppression,’ no experiments, no letting him play with your blaster routines.”
“Indignant statement: I would never allow a child near my weaponry.”
Jason raised an eyebrow. “Last week, he reprogrammed your targeting subroutines.”
“Defensive retort: That was sabotage, not playtime.”
Jason knelt by the chair. Damian had finished his bottle and was reaching toward him, tiny fingers glowing faintly. Jason caught the hand gently.
“I’ll be back soon, little wing. Don’t float anything on fire while I’m gone.”
The boy giggled. Jason smiled beneath the weight of exhaustion and something heavier. He couldn’t shake the feeling that every moment he looked at Damian, he saw his father—the man who’d given him this impossible task.
Richard.
Even thinking the name tightened Jason’s chest. A Sith Lord. Cold, precise, terrifyingly calm. Jason had run jobs for him before—high-risk retrievals, assassinations by proxy, things too quiet for the Empire to notice. Every time, he told himself he was done. And every time, Richard found him again.
Jason still remembered the last time their paths crossed: a pirate ambush in deep space, hull breach, blood everywhere. He’d been seconds from dying in the vacuum when a crimson blade had carved through the pirates like smoke through glass. Richard had dragged him to safety, said nothing, left him with a sealed med-kit and a simple line: “You’ll live. You owe me.”
When the holo-message arrived months later—Richard entrusting him with a child, his child—Jason didn’t argue. Who could say no to a Sith Lord?
But it wasn’t fear that kept him here, not really. It was that moment when Richard had turned to leave the med-bay, crimson cloak sweeping behind him. For a second, Jason had seen something in the Sith’s eyes that wasn’t cruelty. It was… resolved. Maybe even hope. So yeah, Jason respected him. Feared him a little, sure. But respect—that ran deeper.
He adjusted the last strap on his gauntlet and looked back one more time. “HK, if he starts floating again—”
“I will record it for data analysis.”
“Just keep him safe.”
“Affirmation: Until your return, I shall guard the miniature human as though he were my own assassination target.”
Jason groaned. “Work on your phrasing.”
He hit the door control. The blast-seal opened with a hiss, spilling cold corridor air into the room. The city’s neon pulsed beyond like an open wound.
“Be good, little wing,” he murmured, then stepped out into the noise.
Nar Shaddaa at night was a living beast—breathing exhaust and vice. Jason slipped through its veins like smoke, helmet down, blasters holstered. The pickup went bad halfway through, as expected. Double-cross, gunfire, a crate that nearly exploded before he stabilised the payload. When he finally made it back to his building, sweat and carbon dust clung to his armour.
He keyed open the door. “HK, if you let him—”
He stopped.
The apartment was dim and quiet. HK stood motionless near the crib. In the soft light, Damian floated a few inches above his mattress, tiny fists glowing with the faintest gold.
Jason exhaled slowly, crossing the room. “Well. That’s new.”
HK’s optic flickered on. “Report: The offspring achieved sustained levitation thirty-two minutes after your departure. I attempted to prevent cranial impact with the ceiling. Outcome: moderate success.”
Jason chuckled under his breath. “You’re still standing, so I’ll call it a win.”
He reached out carefully, sliding an arm under Damian. The baby stirred but didn’t wake, the glow fading as he settled against Jason’s chest. Tiny heartbeat, steady breaths.
“Yeah,” Jason whispered. “You’re gonna be impossible when you learn to talk.”
HK’s head tilted. “Analysis: You appear… content. Curious. You have not been content since your near-death encounter with the Sith Lord.”
Jason shot the droid a look. “You keeping emotional records now?”
“Affirmative. Observation: The Sith inspired both terror and loyalty in you. Correlation suggests you value power combined with mercy.”
Jason looked down at Damian’s sleeping face. “Guess that runs in the family.”
He sank onto the couch, armour creaking, the child pressed against his chest. Outside, Nar Shaddaa’s skyline burned with restless light. Inside, it was still.
HK rotated toward the window. “Philosophical statement: Attachment weakens efficiency.”
Jason didn’t answer right away. He brushed a thumb over Damian’s tiny hand, feeling the pulse of warmth there. “Maybe. But some things are worth being weak for.”
HK’s servo clicked softly. “I will log that as… paradoxical.”
“Do that.” Jason leaned back, exhaustion seeping into his bones. The hum of the Mantis below thrummed through the floor, the rhythm of a home he never meant to have.
He thought of Richard again—of red blades and black eyes, of a man who ruled fear but still trusted him with a child. Jason didn’t know what the future held—if Richard would ever come to reclaim his son, or if the galaxy would burn before that happened. But until then, the kid was his.
He looked down at the sleeping boy. “You’re safe, little wing. I’ve got you. Always.”
Outside, the city howled, but the apartment stayed wrapped in a fragile silence—one bounty hunter, one ancient droid, and a child whose laughter could move the stars.