Chapter Text
Ben runs, leaves the smoking wreckage of the stolen ship behind him. He can still feel the blood on his hands, the blood of his friends. The voice in his head is praising him, beckoning him, but he's scared. Scared of what could be ahead, scared of what is behind.
He doesn't know if Uncle Luke is alive. Ben had thrown him back, buried him in rubble, everything had been on fire, but Ben doesn't know. He doesn't know how many of the other students are alive. He knows at least two are dead, two that he had killed. Two that he had cut down when they had stood in his way. Two that had looked at what he had done to their Master and tried to stop him from leaving. There were more that had tried, but wood burns so easily, and following is difficult when surrounded by flaming timber and collapsing stone.
Others, mostly the youngest ones, had fled. Had seen him, had seen what he had done, was doing, and fled. He left them. He didn't want to kill them, even with the voice in his head telling him hunt them, slay them, leave no survivors .
He'd run to the port, to the ships, had taken an old A-Wing and fled as fast as he could. He honestly doesn't know what planet he's on now, after crash landing. The terrain is sloping, all hills and valleys, heavily forested and seemingly uninhabited by sentient life. All he knows is that he's running. Away from the ship, away from Jedi that want to kill him and away from the voice that calls to him.
You've done well , it says. This is your fate , it says. Come to me now , it says. Ben does not want to. He is scared, no, he is terrified , he is confused, he is in pain. He is angry .
He stumbles, he falls, he doesn't get up. He lays in the dirt, amidst fallen branches and rotting leaves. He lays there, curled in on himself shivering, and absolutely seething . What had he done? What had he done to deserve his uncle trying to kill him? Why did he wake up to Uncle Luke standing above him, lightsaber raised and eyes cold.
Do you see? the voice says. Do you see what they tried to do to you? it says. They want to kill you, it says. And Ben does see. The voice had been right, had been telling the truth when it whispered in his ear for years. I will not lead you astray, it says. I will show you the path to your destiny, it says. He's tempted. Maybe he should follow. Maybe he should go to the voice. I will show you power, it says, so that no one can ever try to hurt you again, it says.
When he dreams, he dreams of darkness. Darkness and strength and knowledge and power.
_______________________
When he wakes, he wakes to the sound of rustling foliage, of a distant modulated voice and soft, childlike babbling. Ben freezes, doesn't move, just listens. Listens to the modulated voice talk to the maybe-child. Slowly, slowly, he sits up, kneels amongst low branches and tall ground cover, and watches. Watches as a man in silver armour wearing a helmet walks through the forest, a hovering pram beside him. In the pram Ben can see a small figure, green with big ears, definitely a child.
The man has a pulse rifle and silver spear strapped to his back beside a jet pack, a muted dark blue cape shoved to the side out of the way, a blaster on one hip and ammunition everywhere . On a belt, a strap across his chest, his legs. Even his vambraces look like they contain weapons, and Ben has no doubt the man has knives hidden in multiple places. His helmet though, is what Ben focuses on. The familiar style of it, together with the rest of the armour and amount of weaponry he carries, tells Ben what this man is.
A Mandalorian.
His mother had told stories of these warriors. Cunning and fearless, ruthless to no end. She tells the story of one that had encased his father in carbonite, sold him off to Jabba the Hutt. Enemies of the Jedi for generations. A people interested only in war, once a force that conquered planets, now small factions and cults of bounty hunters and battle hungry mercenaries.
Ben thinks he should be frightened, should be wary of the Mandalorian. He is an enemy of the Jedi after all. But then again, isn't Ben as well?
Yes! the voice praises. Ben ignores it.
Uncle Luke (no, not uncle. Luke has lost the right to that title), Luke had tried to kill him, in return Ben killed two of his padawans, hurt more.
Instead of caution, instead of hiding away from the Mandalorian, Ben slowly stands. The moment he moves the Mandalorian stops, his head turning to look at Ben. The man takes a step forward, moving in front of the pram, defending it, defending the child. When Ben takes a step forward, the blaster is out and pointed at him in the blink of an eye. Ben’s not worried about the blaster, he knows he can redirect the shot should he need to, but he stops anyway. The blaster isn't the only weapon at the Mandalorian’s disposal, and his kind have a reputation for fighting, and defeating, Jedi. No need to antagonize him, to ask for a fight.
Just kill him. He is powerless against you, the voice insists. Ben ignores it.
“I, uh. Hello,” Ben says, not really sure what else to say. He's still tired, he still hurts, he's still confused and angry and the voice in his head keeps distracting him. “I’m going to come closer, okay? I mean you no harm, you or the child.”
The Mandalorian doesn't move, doesn't say anything, so Ben takes that as permission to move forward. He's a few meters away before the Mandalorian says “stop. No further.” They both stand there for a moment, neither saying anything. Though Ben can't see his face, he knows the Mandalorian is studying him, gauging possible threats, potential weaknesses. He can feel the moment the man sees the lightsaber clipped to his belt.
The Mandalorian nods towards it, blaster never wavering from its aim at Ben’s head. “What is that?”
“It’s my lightsaber,” he answers, keeping his voice level. Well, trying to at least.
Kill him, kill him now! the voice commands. Ben ignores it.
“Lightsaber, are you Jedi?”
“No!” Ben spits, anger swelling again. “No, it has been made clear to me that I am not.” Ben takes a deep breath, smothering the burning in his chest, willing his emotions to calm. “I was training to be, but my Master tried to kill me.”
“Kill you? Why?” the Mandalorian asks, blaster lowered but still in his hand.
“I… I don't know”.
He feared you, he knew your power, the voice says, and Ben ignores it.
“I woke up, and he was standing over me, about to kill me.” Ben is not sure why he is telling him this, doesn't know why he desperately wants the Mandalorian, an enemy, to know, to understand .
The Mandalorian turns his head a little, looking back at the child in the pram. The child looks up at him, ears perked and making small noises. There's something drawing Ben to the kid, who turns to watch him.
Ignore the Child, leave, the voice orders, and Ben ignores it.
The child tilts his head, says a little “huh?” Reaches out a small clawed hand to him. Ben steps forward, eyes fixed on the kid. He hardly notices the Mandalorian, who just watches as Ben approaches the pram, silent.
Then, suddenly, the voice in his head is gone. The dark whispering in his ears that only he can hear is silent, silent for the first time in years. Ben offers his hand, lets the child wrap his fingers around his thumb. “Did you do that?” he whispers. “Did you get rid of him?”
Ben can feel him, the child, reaching out through the Force. Can feel the thoughts the kid is pushing forward. “Thank you. Thank you Grogu,” he says, his voice shaking.
Grogu shakes Ben’s thumb a little, says “bah!”, then lets go.
Beside them the Mandalorian watches, blaster back in its holster. “How do you know his name?”
“He told me,” Ben says.
The Mandalorian reaches out to the child, Grogu clinging to his fingers with his little claws. “You can talk to him?”
“Sort of. I can feel him through the Force, we can communicate, but not exactly in words.”
“The Force. His powers, you mean?”
Ben looks at the Mandalorian, frowning a small bit. “Yes… his powers. Do you not know about the Force?”
The Mandalorian shrugs, rubbing Grogu’s hand with his thumb. “Not much. I was supposed to bring him to a Jedi, so he can learn.” He looks up at Ben again, and his voice turns hard, “but you say your master tried to kill you. If that is how the jettise treat their students, he will not go to them.”
Ben just watches Grogu play with the Mandalorian’s hand, manipulating his fingers and patting at the armour covering the back of it. “The temple is gone now anyways,” he starts hesitantly. “I… I burned it, I think. There was lightning, and fire, and I was just trying to get away, but they kept, they wouldn't let me! I had to, I had to kill some of my- I thought they were my friends .”
His voice grows firmer, as his rage comes crawling back. The dark voice in his head may be gone, may not be whispering into his ears, but the betrayal Ben feels is all his own. “I had to kill them, had to kill the ones that didn't let me go. They attacked me ! If they had just let me go I wouldn't have had to hurt them, but they didn't! They didn't understand, they didn't know what he had done, and they wouldn't listen. If I had stayed, I would have been killed, whether by them or others that came later, they would see what I had done and they would have killed me without giving me a chance! I don't know what happened to Luke, I don't know if I killed him.”
“Luke was your teacher? The one who tried to kill you while you slept?” the Mandalorian asks, voice still harsh, but not, Ben thinks, directed at him.
“Yes.” Ben nods, not quite looking directly at the Mandalorian’s face (helmet, he supposes, since he can't actually see the man’s face anyway).
“Then the hut’uun deserves to burn.”
That does make Ben look at the Mandalorian. He can feel the other’s anger through the Force, can feel the ice of it chill him. Different from Ben’s, cold where his is hot, quiet and creeping and slow where Ben’s rages loud and fast. Different, but anger all the same.
Grogu isn't angry. No, instead Ben just senses a weary sadness coming from him. A feeling of understanding, like he knows. Knows what Ben has gone through, has experienced it as well. Ben sees flashes, a man standing over a group of children, lightsaber out and swinging toward them, feels the fear and betrayal and confusion.
“I'm sorry,” he says softly to Grogu. “I'm sorry that happened to you.”
Grogu hums sadly, hugs the Mandalorian’s hand. The Mandalorian looks from Grogu to Ben and back again. “Sorry what happened? What happened to the kid?” His voice is stern, not angry at Ben, but angry that something bad may have happened to the child gripping his hand.
“Something similar. A teacher, a Jedi killed them all. Slaughtered the younglings, Grogu was the only one to survive.”
The hand not being held by Grogu is clenched tight and trembling, and Ben can hear the sharp controlled breaths through the vocoder of the Mandalorian’s helmet. The anger is rising, seeping faster now through the Force, gripping tight and freezing so cold it burns.
“Then the kid stays with me,” the Mandalorian growls as he picks up Grogu and settles him in one arm, spreading the other hand over the child, as if to cover him, hide him, protect him. “You stay with me ad’ika, okay?”
“Bah!” Grogu says happily, patting the Mandalorian’s hand with his own. He looks over at Ben, pushes thoughts forward, pushes his joy and relief and contentment through the Force.
“Grogu would like that, is happy to stay with his buir,” Ben tells the Mandalorian.
The man's head snaps up to look at Ben. “What did you just say?”
“Well, it was Grogu,” Ben rushes to explain. “He wants to stay with you-”
“No. Buir. He…” his voice softens, “he called me buir?”
“Yes, is that… bad? What does it mean?”
The Mandalorian lets out a slow breath and pulls Grogu close to his chest, tucking the kid's head beneath his chin. “Parent. It means parent.” He begins to rub circles into Grogu’s back with one thumb, and the child hums his contentment. “I call him ad’ika, child; call myself his buir, but I didn't think…” A long release of breath, and Ben thinks that the Mandalorian probably has his eyes closed.
The Mandalorian nods a little, taps his helmet to Grogu’s little forehead before settling back in his cradle, then turning and looking directly at Ben. He is silent for a moment, studying him again. Thinking. Finally, he just sighs. “Ah, what the hell. Come on.”
The Mandalorian turns and starts walking the way he had come, Grogu’s pram following behind him. Without turning around he asks “well, are you coming?”
And really, what else is Ben going to do? Luke is either dead or wants him dead, he can hardly go to his parents. They had been distant throughout his childhood, then sent him off to Luke the first moment they could. Scared, he knew. Scared of him, scared of what he could do. He can only imagine how they'd react to what he had done. The dark voice is gone, is no longer whispering instructions into his ear, no longer guiding him. And Ben doesn't want to be alone. Doesn't want to wander this planet he didn't even know the name of, unsure of his path and silently stoking the anger in his chest.
So, going with an enemy of the Jedi it is. Ben steps forward, then follows the Mandalorian and Grogu, the warrior and his… son. The Mandalorian who had been searching for an enemy because he thought it would be best for Grogu, then resolutely refusing to let go of him when he learned what a Jedi had done to Ben. And now, taking in Ben.
Ben doesn't know what awaits him as he follows the Mandalorian, but Grogu seems happy. The kid is sending good thoughts through the Force, images of him and the Mandalorian sitting together in the ship, of good food, of not so good food but it’s okay because his buir is with him, taking care of him. But most of all, he sends the comforting feeling of safety. Grogu’s buir will protect both of them now, of that the kid is sure.
Ben lets Grogu continue to communicate as they make their way back to what Grogu tells him is home, a ship called the Razor Crest , big and silver and old and warm and perfect. Ben sends some of his own good memories back to him, running around the Millennium Falcon with Han, riding on Chewie’s back through those same hallways. The sounds of Leia singing to him as he drifts to sleep, playing hide and seek with R2D2 and launching as many questions as he can think of at C3PO, who was always thrilled to answer. Of the day Lando decided Ben’s clothes were woefully inadequate and spent the day shopping with him, much to Leia's amusement and Han’s utter mortification.
Back and forth they send their thoughts, Grogu giggling and cooing while Ben stays mostly silent, though he can't help a little snort that escapes once in a while. The Mandalorian ignores them, seemingly content to let them converse in peace. It’s nice. It’s calm and welcoming, and the fear and helplessness and anger of the last two days lessens. It doesn't vanish completely, Ben doesn't think it ever will, but it's not overwhelming anymore.
He's not actually sure how much time has passed since they started walking, but it feels like almost none at all before the Razor Crest begins to peek through the trees. Grogu’s description of it had been accurate enough, the ship is smaller than the Falcon , with two massive engines on short wings, a patchwork of silver panels with a few meandering orange stripes. Quite honestly it looks just about as reliable as his father’s ship. Which is to say, not much.
The Mandalorian presses a few buttons on one vambrace and a hatch on the side opens, descending as a ramp to allow access. The Mandalorian makes his way up the ramp as soon as it touches the ground, Grogu’s cradle close behind him. Ben, though, stops. Watches the Mandalorian board his ship, watches as he pulls the cradle close to lift Grogu out and set him on the floor of the ship. Watches as the Mandalorian disappears further inside while Grogu stands at the entrance and sends thoughts of welcoming and safety and acceptance. Still though, Ben hesitates. Not because he's afraid of what could await him inside the ship. No, he's afraid of what awaits him beyond the ship. Where will he end up when the Mandalorian tires of him?
“Either get in or don't, but you can't just stand there,” the Mandalorian says, reappearing in the doorway. He looks down for a moment at Grogu, then back to Ben. “Seems to me though, like the kid wants you to come. It'd be good for him, I think, to have someone who knows the magic stuff.”
“The Force,” Ben corrects without thinking, still hesitating at the ramp.
“Sure, the Force. I…” he looks down again at Grogu, who coos at him. “I was tasked with finding a Jedi. I don't understand his powers, and he needs training, needs someone who can help him. You don't have to, but he is not going to a Jedi.” The man clenches and unclenches a fist a few times, then forcibly releases the tension in his body. “Whether you decide to do the magic Force stuff with him or not, you are welcome to join us.” He points a finger at Ben. “But decide quickly, I'm not going to wait around all day for you.”
Then he was gone again, disappearing into the Razor Crest . The engines rumble, glowing a bright orange as the ship powers up. Grogu looks at Ben, pushes out friend and safe and happy , then shuffles into the ship after the Mandalorian. So Ben steps forward, walks up the ramp and takes a steadying breath when it rises up behind him, sealing him into the ship.
The inside of the Razor Crest has a similar feel as the Falcon . Old, beaten, patched together too many times to count, but cared for. It's all unpainted metal, nets and compartments lining the walls. Most of all though, it feels safe. Like Grogu had told him it would. Up a ladder Ben can hear the Mandalorian starting up the ship, can hear Grogu shuffling about and clambering onto things, only for there to be a soft thump as he is placed back onto the floor.
Without direction of what else to do, Ben climbs up the ladder as well, then through a doorway and into the cockpit. The Mandalorian is in the pilot's seat, Grogu in his lap and reaching for controls that he is expertly steered away from in movements born of practice.
The Mandalorian turns his head and nods to the seats behind him. “I'd sit down if I were you, the Crest isn't great at smooth takeoffs right now. Or landings.”
Ben sits, eyes wandering the room, studying the controls. He runs a hand across the metal of the wall beside him, traces the blinking lights, and ends up just resting his palm against a bare patch of metal. Ben closes his eyes and focuses on his palm, on the material beneath it. Feels the cold, feels the tiny vibrations, feels the energy flowing behind the thin metal, through wiring and tubes that surround him, that reach every inch of the Crest , each doing something different but all culminating into a single goal, a single purpose. Each part useless by itself but vital to the system it serves.
Ben opens his eyes when he feels something gripping his pants leg, pulling itself up. Looking down he sees Grogu heaving himself onto Ben’s knees, small clawed three fingered hands grabbing at anything he can reach to support himself. Ben looks down at the child, one eyebrow raised and trying to fight the grin that wants to show itself.
Grogu lurches forward and pillows himself into Ben’s shirt, gripping the fabric and burrowing as close as he can. Ben's hands come up to steady the kid as he relaxes, heaving what for him is a huge sigh and projecting warm safe happy through the Force. Ben hesitantly returns the thoughts, one thumb beginning to rub over Grogu’s back. Grogu gives a contented hum and closes his eyes, settling down and going to sleep.
Neither he nor the Mandalorian say anything for a while, the Mandalorian focusing on flying the ship and Ben unwilling to chance waking Grogu. Besides, what would he even say? ‘Hi, thanks for letting me come along with you after I maybe-killed my uncle and definitely killed my friends?’ ‘I'm glad your son (??) got rid of the voices in my head?’ Not exactly great conversation starters.
Fortunately the Mandalorian breaks the silence before Ben says something stupid. “What do you want to be called?”
Ben frowns, unprepared for the question. “I, what?”
“A name, or a nickname, something so I don't keep calling you Verd’ika in my head,” he says, turning to face Ben.
“Verd’ika?”
“It means little warrior,” the Mandalorian replies, with what could possibly be a hint of amusement in his voice. “So, what do you want to be called?”
“I…” and suddenly Ben doesn't know. The man had asked what he wants to be called, not his name. And Ben isn't sure he wants to be Ben anymore. Ben Solo had a family he could trust, was training to be a Jedi, had never killed anyone.
“You don't have to answer Verd’ika,” the Mandalorian says calmly. “Very few people know my name, mostly I go by Mando.”
The Mandalorian, Mando’s easy acceptance of his hesitance is relieving. He does want a name, just… not Ben. Ben is dead, killed in one night by betrayal and fear and anger, by a deadly green light wielded by an Uncle he loved hovering over him and the blood of his peers spilled by his own hand.
“May I think about it?” he asks.
“Of course,” Mando says, before returning his attention to the ship.
What does he want to be called? He spends a while thinking, rubbing Grogu’s back as he sleeps the whole while. Its stupid, what he ends up deciding on, with a stupid line of thought behind it. He's still him, he still came from the same place Ben did, so he keeps little bits of his family names. Takes ky from Skywalker, takes lo from Solo. Kylo is as good a name as any, he supposes. Strange, yes, but then, isn't he? So, maybe it fits.
“Kylo,” he whispers, trying it out. “Kylo, Kylo.”
“Decided?” Mando asks without looking back at him.
“I want to be Kylo,” he says, nodding.
“Alright. Good to meet you Kylo.”
“Good to meet you too.”
Grogu mumbles in his sleep in Kylo’s lap, shifting a little and smushing his face firmer into Kylo’s shirt. He can't help the smile that crosses his face, looking down at the child. The child that saved him.
The dark voice had been in his head for years. He can't quite remember when he first heard it, but it's been a constant companion, whispering thoughts into his ears, telling him about things others wouldn't tell him. That Han and Leia feared him, that Luke hated him, that he had a destiny to live up to, a legacy to continue. How proud his grandfather could be of him if he just listened to the voice, did what it told him. It told him that it knew best, it would lead him down the right path.
Now, despite the relief, Kylo also feels… empty. The voice has been with him so long that he doesn't quite know what to do without it. The relief of having only his own thoughts is mixed with the confusion of being alone, the silence that should be comforting also sets him on edge. He feels like he's waiting. He's not sure what for; maybe for the voice to return, maybe for a different voice to take its place, or maybe just for the silence to continue.
He thinks though that the voice truly is gone, that Grogu either banished the being that was whispering to him, or perhaps healed something that made a voice from his own mind. Whether the voice was an external influence or an internal sickness, it doesn't matter anymore. It’s gone, it's gone because a child had looked at him and deemed him worthy of its help. A small Force wielding child in the care of a Mandalorian was able to, and so did. Because Grogu wanted to help him.
Kylo will never be truly able to repay him. There is nothing he has, nothing he could do that would be a proper thanks to being set free. But he will do what he can. He will stay, for as long as Mando will have him, and work with Grogu, will help him wield the Force, will train him in any way he can. For Grogu, yes, but also for himself.