Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Chapter Text

Years ago, had anyone told him that he’d be happy to set foot there again, he wouldn’t have believed it. He had spent all his life dreaming of leaving this place. He had spent all his life looking at the stars, hoping for a greater destiny, a more glorious future. He had spent all his life hating this overwhelming heat, this monotonous landscape, this dreadful microcosm where everything always looked frozen in time, as if, somewhere, a higher entity had decided that this planet wasn’t meant to evolve.

And yet, when Luke landed on Tatooine, he felt strangely like back home.

He would’ve probably considered home any other place he would’ve chosen to go. But when Luke had decided to chuck it all up and disappear for a while, Tatooine came up in his mind without even having to think about it. He had jumped in his X-Wing, and when he had to choose a destination, he had mindlessly entered coordinates for a planet he had thought he would never see again in his life.

His shoulders relaxed when he left the spaceport and found himself in front of the old rounded buildings that were once so familiar to him. Mos Eisley hadn’t changed much, from what he remembered, except for the Empire now dead and gone. The last time he went there was with Uncle Ben to meet a pilot who would agree to transport them to Alderaan, while the streets were teeming with Stormtroopers... Luke’s heart clenched thinking about this time. His life was so different then...

Today, he was no longer a young moisture farmer. He was no longer that lanky boy that no one looked at twice, whose life was just going back and forth between his uncle's farm and Anchorhead. He was a pilot, a Jedi, and the New Republic poster boy. A star brandished loud and clear by the Senate, branded by the seal of destiny, whose fame had already gone around the galaxy three times now. 

And it was precisely this fame that Luke sought to escape by returning to Tatooine. He had spent all his youth dreading that life Uncle Owen seemed to want to burden him with. He didn’t want to be a farmer, just shooting Womp rats and selling products in town, he didn’t want to be one among many, a faceless man who would only grow old and die without having done anything significant in his life. He wanted to become a pilot, he wanted to join the Alliance, he dreamed of great things and great destinies. Well, he’d been more than served.

By the time the war ended, the Emperor and Darth Vader defeated, all eyes in the galaxy had turned to Luke. The little farm boy from Tatooine had then found himself at the center of an attention he never imagined, carefully crafted by the New Republic who wanted to make him the figurehead of their quest for justice and freedom. What better way to counterbalance the high figures of the Empire than their exact opposite, Luke Skywalker, the last Jedi, called to restore all by himself a thousand-year-old order of which he knew basically next to nothing? Because that was the problem, Luke knew of the Jedi only what little he had learned during the war. He had accomplished many missions involving the Order's relics, but he felt like he was facing a billion-piece puzzle, and only managed to assemble two. While the number of remaining pieces continued to grow. He wanted to do great things, but the downside of being the last Jedi was that there was no other Jedi to tell him where to start. Not even a "Jedi Order for Dummies" guide, because not only did the Empire eradicated the Jedi, but it also had gone to great lengths to destroy as many traces of their culture as it could find.

In the end, the New Republic's persistence on showcasing him had finally weighed on him. He couldn't go anywhere without having at least one person to shout his name enthusiastically, and Luke soon got tired of it.

Here, on these isolated planets, people couldn’t care less about him. Most had perhaps heard his name, or heard of his achievements, but never seen his face. The people of Tatooine were simple minded, and his family saga flew right over their heads. It wasn’t as if the destruction of the Death Star, however important it might’ve been, had changed anything in their lives. Luke found interesting this contrast, how such a significant event on such a large scale could become insignificant in the eyes of one person.

Luke felt a little nudge at his leg, and looked down at Artoo, who whistled in his direction. Luke smiles at him before adjusting his hood. He may be a complete stranger here, but he didn’t forget that Mos Eisley, although rid of the Emperor, wasn’t rid of the scum, just as likely to recognize him.

Luke quickly left the spaceport, Artoo on his heels, and headed to the speeders store, where he remembered selling his old landspeeder X-34. He smiled inwardly, wondering if the owner had managed to find a buyer gullible enough to think he was getting a good deal.

He chose a XP-38, battered and dusty, but running smooth. He silently deposited a handful of credits on the counter.

He got almost surprised by how well he drove without the need to locate himself. After all this time spent away from here, he thought he’d need to ask for the way. But he soon recognized the garage and its familiar dome, as well as the tip of the vaporizers, some of which were overturned. He couldn’t suppress a sudden pang in the heart remembering his uncle and aunt, lying on the sand, while the fire was ravaging the farm and the smoke obscuring the sky. Instinctively, he slowed down.

And as he approached, his breath stuck in his throat, he was surprised to see a motojet parked near the garage. Without thinking, stricken by worry, he shut down his engine.

Artoo beeped with anguish, but Luke beckoned him to shut up. He walked slowly towards the farm’s entrance, his heart thumping wildly in his chest. Incongruously, by seeing how clean the entrance was, he couldn’t help but wonder who could have come to take care of his uncle and aunt’s bodies. But the Force soon pointed out a presence in the farm, and his senses sharpened.

He silently went down the stairs, frantically checking his surroundings. He had to stop himself from drawing his lightsaber, clenching his hands at his sides. Then, as he started to see the inner yard’s door in front of him, and he saw the remnants of the energy towers, the door frame shattered under the firing of a blaster. 

He threw himself to the ground, while another shot went over his head.   

“Stop, stop!” he cried desperately.

Luke mentally slapped himself for reacting so childishly. He was a Jedi, for Force’s sake, he could have deflected the shots with a flick of his hand. But he guessed that if he wished to remain anonymous, it was better to avoid this kind of feats that could be difficult to explain.

At least, it worked because the shots stopped.   

“Who's there?” asked a voice.

Luke frowned at that voice. It was human, that of a man, but metallic, as if electronically distorted. A modulator, his brain explained to him. Or a droid.

He decided to answer quickly:   

“My name is—” he swallowed bitterly “—Luke. This is my house.”

He felt a tear stinging the corner of his eyes at this mere explanation.   

“Your house?” replied the voice.   

“My Uncle Owen and my Aunt Beru. It's... It was their farm.”

And his voice broke, while the vision of their charred bodies scrolled in his head...

There was a silence. Luke waited, wondering if maybe the person to whom the voice belonged to was thinking about what to do next.   

“Show yourself,” said the voice.

Luke held up both of his hands to show that he was unarmed. Not that he necessarily needed a weapon, but...

He stepped into the yard, squinting under the sunlight. Then he froze when he saw a figure walking towards him.

Before him stood the unmistakable armor of a Mandalorian.

Chapter Text

Luke felt his whole being freeze in fear, but he managed to hide it. For a second, he thought he was facing bounty hunter Boba Fett – again! – but he quickly realized how wrong he was. The armor in front of him was red. Fett's was green.

Especially since the last time he saw Fett, he was falling into the Great Pit of Carkoon before being devoured by a sarlacc...

Relief instantly washed over him. He had dealt with Fett twice now; he didn’t want to repeat this feat a third time. Nevertheless, that didn’t make him feel any better about the one standing before him, and who was gauging him in silence.

“Show your face,” said the Mandalorian, punctuating his request with a slight wave of his blaster.

Luke could easily blow the blaster out of his hands and crush his armor, but he forced himself to swallow the idea and to show him the very face of innocence. He gently folded his hood back.

The Mandalorian looked over his features, his hair tousled by the hood, how pale he looked under such harsh sunlight. And if he was struck by his incredible eye color, he didn’t let it show. He put away his blaster.

“Your house, eh?” he asked.

Luke nodded.   

“It was a moisture farm,” he hiccupped. “It belonged to Owen and Beru Lars. I grew up with them...”

And he couldn't help but point to the garage.  

“What happened to their bodies?” he wanted to know.

The Mandalorian tilted his helmet with surprise.   

“Their bodies?”

Luke lowered his head, in an effort not to show the tears in his eyes.   

“They are... dead,” he explained with a lump in his throat.

“The Empire?" the Mandalorian understood. 

Luke's shoulders shook, and he suppressed a sob.

“I found their bodies in front of the farm,” he shuddered. “I couldn't even take care of them...”

But the Mandalorian shook his head.   

“There was nothing when I arrived,” he confessed. “I don't know where they are.”

And he almost felt guilty when he saw the young man crumble before him. He wadded a bit, embarrassed.  

“There's not much left inside,” he explained. “I guess the Empire set the fire?”

This seemed logical to him, given his knowledge of the Empire. And the boy's broken silence was an answer in itself.

“Where are you from?” the Mandalorian asked.

The boy looked at him almost with surprise.

“I— I'm from Chandrila.”

“The Alliance?”

“Yes, I was part of the Rebellion.”

The Mandalorian nodded thoughtfully. Then he looked at Luke.

“I am sorry for your uncle and aunt,” he said, and his voice had a welcome honesty.

Luke felt a few tears rolling down his cheeks, but did nothing to stop them.   

“Thank you,” he said.

Despite his pain, the conversation surprised him intensely. Boba Fett had always been hostile to him; he had even almost had the upper hand more than once. This had made Luke feel ill will towards Mandalorians, usually described as brutal and bloodthirsty by the public opinion. And now, stood before him a Mandalorian, one he had never met before, paying his respects to his family. Luke wouldn’t have been more astonished if Han had gambled the Millennium Falcon on sabacc.

But the Mandalorian's compassion seemed to be limited at that, because after one last nod, he turned away and disappeared into the house, leaving him alone in the yard.

Suddenly alone, Luke's shoulders fell, and he released a sigh he didn’t know he was holding. He sadly looked up at what was left of his childhood home. True to its policy, the Empire had left very little. Everything had gone up in smoke. He saw the alcove where the dining table was once, which was no more than shapeless ruins now. Some parts of the walls were still blackened by smoke, and the silence gave away the absence of life. If it weren’t for him and the Mandalorian, this place was nothing more than an empty shell, soulless and without warmth.

For a second, Luke almost wanted to turn back and leave Tatooine behind. He had come here in tribute to his family, to free himself, because his fame was suffocating him and he wanted to lie low for a while. He just wanted to relax, to connect with his roots and refocus. And when he saw the scorched walls, the yard covered with sand, the Mandalorian who had obviously settled in, his stomach dropped thinking that it was no longer home, that this house no longer recognized him, and that he had come all this way for nothing.

“Hey, farm boy,” a voice called.

Luke turned his head. The Mandalorian beckoned him to approach. Despite any precautions, Luke went to him. He was certain that despite being a Mandalorian, this man didn’t want to do him any harm.

Luke followed him to a room he remembered being the kitchen. At least, what was left of it. The furniture was charred, and whatever might have survived the fire had probably been looted by the Jawas. The Mandalorian had spread before him a few items: an amban rifle, ration bars, and a holo displaying a map of Tatooine.

The Mandalorian showed the map.

“You used to live here, right?” he asked “Are you familiar with the mountains?”

Luke was indeed familiar with the mountains. He had often wandered there in his youth, for this was where Uncle Ben lived. He had repeatedly escaped his Uncle Owen’s vigilance to go to the old hut.

“Yes, I know them,” he answered. “Well, I knew them. Why are you asking?”

“I'm looking for someone who's hiding there,” the Mandalorian explained. “What do you think would be the best place?”

“In the mountains?” Luke grimaced. “None, they're swarming with Tuskens. And as soon as night falls, it's even worse. Are you sure this someone is in the mountains?”

“Looks like it,” the Mandalorian hummed.

He pulled out from his armor a small device which, turned towards the mountains, beeped more and more insistently. Luke immediately recognized a tracking fob, and felt his blood grow cold. A shiver of horror ran along his spine. A bounty hunter. The Mandalorian was a bounty hunter.

“You’re a bounty hunter?” he articulated in a quavering voice.

“Why, there's one on your head?” the Mandalorian asked, who had noticed his sudden panic.

His modulated voice sounded amused, but it didn’t calm Luke down. Mandalorians weren’t known for their sense of humor. Luke most likely had a bounty on his head, Vader didn’t hesitate to unleash Boba Fett on his heels, and destroying a Death Star didn’t destroy the still kicking many Empire remnants who would probably be very happy to get their hands on him.

“The Empire wasn’t stingy, when it came to the Rebellion,” Luke finally admitted with a sour face.

The Mandalorian simply hummed, before putting the tracking fob away.   

“The only tracking fob in my possession at the moment is that of a Chiss,” he said. “And as far as I can tell, you don't look like a Chiss.”

Luke immediately felt his shoulders relax. The Mandalorian wasn’t after him, and seemed completely disinterested in the potential bounty on his head. He assumed that some code forbade him to hunt a bounty other than his tracking fob. Or that he couldn’t care less about a rebel's bounty, which also suited him.

“And what did he do to end up with a bounty on his head?” Luke wanted to know out of curiosity.

“That, farm boy, is his business.”

Then the Mandalorian turned off the holo showing Tatooine's map before grabbing his rifle and strapping it on his back.

“Are you going already?” Luke asked, astonished.

“I'm going to do a bit of scouting. Don't touch my stuff.”

And the Mandalorian turned away before leaving without a word, leaving Luke alone and speechless.

Chapter Text

Luke silently let himself slide along the wall. He barely heard Artoo’s saddened whistle beside him. In his hands, the small half-burned T-16 model with which he played in his youth was falling into pieces. He remembered waving him in the air, frustrated and impatient, as he was restoring the two droids purchased by his uncle. He was only nineteen years old at the time.

He painfully gazed over the ruins of what was once his room. Everything had burned, and what hadn’t burned had been looted. Some carelessly abandoned junk even told him that the farm had been occupied several times since he left.

The farm was in such a state that he almost didn’t recognize it. It was like he was in the wrong place. He knew that he was being irrational, that he was unconsciously trying to find excuses. After spending his whole youth trying to leave this place, he just wanted to get his old life back, and he refused to believe that he couldn’t. But his uncle and aunt were dead, Biggs was dead, Uncle Ben was dead, the farm was in a state that no longer belonged to him, he could cry as much as he wanted, he’d never get his old life back. And guilt punched him in the guts, realizing that he had spent all his life dreading this place, cursing his uncle and aunt for trying to keep him there, but he never got to thank them.

Uncle Owen and Aunt Beru had raised him as their son, never asking for anything in return, trying to give him a good life despite the harsh conditions. And he lost them without having the chance to thank them.

What did he have left?

Artoo came by his side, beeping plaintively, and Luke couldn’t hold back a smile at the droid's intangible faithfulness. And, in his mind, he suddenly heard Threepio’s infuriating but so entertaining voice. Then Han's rebuffs and Lando's taunts, followed by Leia's annoyed sighs, while Chewie was hissing with amusement. Then, surprisingly, his father's hoarse voice, basking in his newfound serenity...

He had lost his family, but he had found another, right? It's not like he had been on his own, with no one to help him. He might not have grown up by their side, but they had become just as important to him. His almost adoptive family. They would never replace Uncle Owen and Aunt Beru, but not admitting their worth would’ve been an insult. 

One of the T-16 wings fell to the ground between his feet. Luke looked down on it without even seeing it before hearing an engine getting close. He got up, putting away the toy.

The Mandalorian appeared, crossing the yard with a brisk pace. Luke rubbed his sleeve over his face, in a paltry effort to erase his grief, but his eyes were still puffed up by tears. He gave up on finding his dignity, and went to find the bounty hunter.

The Mandalorian had obviously made a detour, because his arsenal had grown. In addition to the rifle, Luke saw binoculars, flash charges, several grenades and stun cuffs.

“Did you find him?” asked Luke.

The Mandalorian turned his head towards him in silence. He seemed to consider his answer, noticing his haggard face, but made no comment.

“The Jundland Wastes,” he finally answered. “An apparently abandoned hut at the top of a hill.”

Luke froze.   

“South-west of the Dune Sea?” he chocked.

That caught the Mandalorian’s attention, who looked at him with surprise.

“You know this place?”

Luke pursed his lips in an attempt to contain his anger.

“It's an old moisture farm,” he explained. “It was Uncle Ben’s house, a friend of mine...”

The Mandalorian went silent at that.

“He doesn't live there anymore?” he assumed, and Luke stiffly shook his head.

“The Empire,” he merely said.

And his faded gaze suddenly burned. His fists clenched at his side.

“I'm going with you,” he decided.

“No.”

The Mandalorian's response took him by surprise, and Luke gaped at him, taken aback.

“What do you mean, no?” he asked.

“I don't remember that this option was on the table,” the Mandalorian simply answered.

Luke opened and closed his mouth.   

“You asked for my help,” he defended himself.  

“I asked you a question about the mountains, I never asked you to come with me.”

“But—”

The Mandalorian shook his head.

“Farm boy, you're probably a good soldier. The proof is that you're still alive. I'm really sorry about what happened to your family, but this Chiss moving in your friend’s house doesn't mean it's your business. So, you—”

“I'm coming with you, whether you like it or not,” Luke snapped without warning. “I don't care what that Chiss did, no one touches Ben's house. And even less a Womp rat with a bounty on his head!”

And he lashed out so fiercely, anger burning so hot, that the Mandalorian didn’t try to argue any further. He tilted his helmet, almost with confusion, but Luke held his gaze without flinching. He kept silent for a moment, then nodded in agreement.

“We leave as soon as the suns set.”

“In the middle of the night? Are you insane? It's the worst time to go out, with the Tuskens!”

But this time, it was the Mandalorian who refused to give in.

“If you really want to go with me, we leave at nightfall, whether you like it or not,” he said sternly, using Luke’s own words against him. “I take care of the Tuskens. If you really want to make yourself useful, set up camp, and try not to die tonight.”

Luke bit his tongue to stop himself from answering him back. He clenched his jaws, giving a brief nod, and went out into the yard.

He looked at the clogged energy towers without seeing them, his head dully buzzing. He was that close to jump in his landspeeder and take care of the Chiss himself. How dared this man take over Ben's house? It took Luke painstaking breaths to contain his impetuousness, and he mentally slapped himself. He was a Jedi, for Force's sake, not a mercenary. What would Ben – or Yoda – say if they saw him lose his temper so childishly? Last time he rushed without thinking, he ended up with a prosthetic to replace his right hand. And he didn't want to get a second one, thank you very much.

His shoulders fell, and Luke forced himself to consider his options. If he went to take the Chiss down now, the Mandalorian would never forgive him. Not to mention that he hadn’t come to Tatooine with the aim of taking the law into his own hands. And yet, here he was, teaming up with a very recalcitrant Mandalorian to hunt down an obscure Chiss who took refuge in Uncle Ben’s old hut. Whatever that Chiss did to earn a bounty in his head, Luke didn't care. Occupying Ben's house was reason enough for him.

He straightened his shoulders and glanced at the yard. There wasn’t much left to set up camp, but he found enough dry wood to build a fire. As hot the days could be on Tatooine, the nights were freezing. He got back the food he had bought in Mos Eisley in his landspeeder, then settled comfortably.

The Mandalorian quickly joined him, placing his rifle beside him. Luke finished swallowing, then held out the food to him.

“Do you want some?” he offered.

“I've already eaten,” the Mandalorian declined.

Luke didn’t insist, and took a bite.

The silence stretched for many minutes, before Luke decided to talk:   

“I met a Mandalorian when I was in the Rebellion.”

It caught the man’s attention, who turned his helmet toward him.   

“Really?"

“Yes. Well, when I say met... Fought would be more accurate. He was a bounty hunter, too, the Empire had sent him after me. We met two or three times.”

“I take it that he failed to get the bounty, if you’re still there.”

“I’ve been lucky,” Luke admitted. “Once, right here, on Tatooine, he almost got me. It was a close call.”

Luke paused for a moment, remembering their fight in Ben's hut.   

“Did he tell you his name?” the Mandalorian asked.

The answer burned Luke's tongue, but he shook his head. He didn't know if the Mandalorian knew Boba Fett's name or reputation. And he didn’t want to take the risk of seeing the Mandalorian be offended by his compatriot's failures.   

“He didn’t,” he lied. “All I know is that he worked for the Empire and Jabba the Hutt.”

And Luke got surprised by the Mandalorian’s grunt of antipathy. He couldn't hold back a smile.   

“Don't like Hutts?”

The Mandalorian snorted.   

“I've taken bounties of all kinds,” he grinded, “but I'm not stupid enough to work with the Hutts. Jabba was known to be generous, but you either had to be very desperate or have something very stupid to prove to be associated with him.”

Luke gave him a knowing look. He was beginning to like this Mandalorian.   

“What happened to him?” the Mandalorian wanted to know. “That other bounty hunter?”

Luke bit his lip with embarrassment. The Mandalorian certainly had strong opinions about the Hutts, but he might not appreciate the way Fett had finished.  

“He... died,” he hesitated. “I mean, I think? Last time I saw him, he was falling into a sarlacc pit.”   

“Perhaps for the better,” the Mandalorian said.   

“Do you think so?” Luke was astonished by it, but the Mandalorian brushed it off with a wave of his hand.

“He probably didn’t have his honor in the right place, if he worked for the Hutts,” he explained.

There was a short silence, and Luke pondered his next words.   

“Are all Mandalorians bounty hunters?”

His question was logical. The only Mandalorians he had ever met were both bounty hunters, so he thought it was normal to ask.

The Mandalorian tilted his head, as if to consider his answer, but he didn’t detect any malice in Luke. His question was earnest, driven by an obviously candid curiosity.

“Not all of them,” he answered. “Most do become mercenaries, but not all are bounty hunters.”

“And... What exactly is being a Mandalorian? What does it mean?”

This time, the Mandalorian was unable to conceal his surprise. It was the first time he heard someone ask him that question. People usually reacted with fear, with anger. Some were curious about his armor, whether he took it off, sometimes about its value. Others mocked him or mocked the history of his people, and many tried to take his helmet off. They all had had an ulterior motive, but he had never seen someone show such ingenuity. He was tempted to believe that it was just one more way to extract information from him, or to better mock his convictions, but the boy was leaning forward, his posture open, waiting for the answer with bright eyes.

He was so used to having to justify or protect his traditions that he was caught off guard by such honesty.   

“Well—” he hesitated, unable to know where to start “—The Mandalorians are a people from a planet called Mandalore. But belonging to the Mandalorian culture is not necessarily linked to birth. One can be born Mandalorian, but also become one.”

“And how do you become a Mandalorian, then?”

The Mandalorian then told him about the orphans taken in and raised in the culture. He talked about the Resol'nare, the Six Actions, which set the code of honor that all Mandalorians had to respect. He talked about his creed that forbade him to take off his helmet in front of others. He talked about their planet, Mandalore, uninhabitable since the last war between the Mandalorians and the Jedi, but described the great cities protected by gigantic domes. He talked about the Mand'alor, the title carried by the leader of their people, recounting the exploits of Mandalore the Great, the first of his lineage. He shared some words in Mando'a, the Mandalorian language, and had to restrain himself from rolling his eyes before Luke's pitiful efforts at trying to repeat them correctly. The conversation went with disconcerting ease, Luke’s curiosity was spontaneous, insatiable, to the point that the Mandalorian came to talk about the cu'bikad, despite the fact that he had never played that game in his life. He shared some anecdotes from his bounty hunting, and Luke was hanging on every word he said with a focus similar to reverence. And if he ever felt all tingly inside before such attention, he didn’t let it show.

In exchange, Luke told him about his youth at the farm, how he had tried to attack Jabba's men alone because of his water tax, when he was only eight years old. The Mandalorian shook his head in dismay at this tale, making Luke burst out laughing. Luke then recounted how he got lost in a sandstorm at the age of twelve, and found himself face-to-face with a Krayt dragon. He recounted the driving lessons, learning to shoot Womp rats or race in a T-16 with his friend Biggs. He... toned down, however, how he joined the Rebellion, explaining that he fled Tatooine after his family's death thanks to a friend who had taken him to Yavin 4, where he became a pilot. He recounted his time with his brothers-in-arms, the Battle of Yavin, Hoth, and Endor. His voice broke a little when he mentioned his fallen brothers-in-arms, but the Mandalorian bowed his helmet with respect hearing their names, and Luke's heart swelled with gratitude.

The suns started to set upon their little makeshift camp, which they enjoyed in pleasant silence. The fire between them began to die out slowly, but they no longer needed it. They were relaxed and serene, pleased by their mutual company.

Then, the Mandalorian finally lifted his helmet to the sky, and turned to Luke.

He said:  

“It's time.”

And Luke replied:

“Yes.”

Chapter Text

They both set off, the Mandalorian on his motojet, and Luke in his landspeeder. Artoo, however, had been left at the farm on the pretext of keeping watch, since the Mandalorian had categorically refused to let the droid come with them.

Luke enjoyed driving on the dunes of Tatooine, as he did when he was young. For a moment, he felt invigorated, like a child once again. The sky was black as ink above them, with stars that had seemed so far away from him before, and which were now all within his reach. Giddy, he couldn’t contain an enthusiastic laugh.

They drove around the Jundland Wastes by the north, passing by Arnthout and Bestine. The mountains appeared before them, with their crests and dangers, and they both slowed down.

They had not encountered Jawas or Tuskens until now. But Luke wasn’t willing to bet on luck. He was even sure that the Tuskens had seen them coming and were watching them. His hand tightened nervously on the blaster at his hip. The Mandalorian had been positive and insanely confident about taking care of the Tuskens, and Luke really wanted to believe him. But he expressed reservations about the bounty hunter’s ability to face a thousand-years-old native species, no matter how gifted he was.

And yet, when they actually met Tuskens, Luke had to pinch himself to believe what happened.

At the bend in a hill, they saw a herd of banthas. Luke's heart skipped a beat when he recognized a caravan of Tuskens, and his whole body tensed, anticipating the attack. He was almost about to open up the throttle and force his way through, when he saw the Mandalorian beckoning to him to slow down. He immediately jumped on his seat, shouting that he was completely insane, even though the Mandalorian couldn’t even hear him.

But the Mandalorian turned to literally block his way, and forced him to stop. Luke opened the landspeeder’s hatch to protest, but the bounty hunter got off his motojet and rushed towards him, and Luke felt his words get stuck in his throat.

“What are you doing?” Luke whispered angrily.  

“Shut up, farm boy,” the Mandalorian answered. “What's valuable in your speeder?”

“What?”

Luke didn't know if he was more surprised or shocked by the question.   

“What's valuable in your speeder?” the Mandalorian repeated, as if he didn’t hear Luke's reaction.

Caught off guard, Luke thought about it in spite of himself. He had credits, his lightsaber, a blaster, nothing he would have agreed to give away. Then he remembered about the toolbox provided with the landspeeder, and pulled it from under his seat before giving it to the Mandalorian with a doubtful pout.

The Mandalorian took it without a word, before walking towards the Tuskens. The looters saw him approaching, on their guards, and some were aiming at him. But the Mandalorian made a series of signs with his hands, and they exchanged glances.

One of the Tuskens put his rifle away, before approaching cautiously and also making hand signs. Then the Mandalorian answered the same way, and they conversed silently, their arms fluttering in all directions, while Luke was staring in amazement.

He only knew of Tuskens their barbaric grunts and their propensity for violence. He had dealt with them several times in his youth, and had always had bad memories of them. But it was the first time he had seen them communicate. So, these savages were gifted with a language?

The dialogue continued, while Luke watched the other Tuskens with apprehension. His hand was resting on his thigh, ready to grab his blaster. His lightsaber was hidden behind his back, but he preferred not to have to use it. He was certainly a Jedi, but even himself would’ve had difficulties facing an entire caravan. Reaching in the Force, he spotted the Tuskens encircling them from all sides.

Then, finally, the Tusken pointed out a direction, and the Mandalorian made a gesture that Luke interpreted as a thank you before throwing the toolbox in his hands. The Tuskens exchanged cries between them, getting out of the way, while the Mandalorian returned to his motojet. 

Gaping, Luke looked at him. No shots or threats were exchanged. The looters were letting them go.   

“According to them, the Chiss has been hiding for two weeks,” the Mandalorian explained, as if he hadn’t just defused a critical situation. “He hasn’t moved since.”

Luke's eyes went from the bounty hunter to the departing Tuskens.   

“How did you do that?” he stammered.

“I told you I was taking care of the Tuskens. We'll just have to be careful not to meet them again on the way home, or we'll have to give them something else.”

He then calmly returned to his motojet.

It took Luke several seconds to realize that what he had believed to be an unavoidable confrontation had been foiled by a toolbox, that the Tuskens were letting them go without doing them any harm, and that the Mandalorian was beginning to drive away. He closed the hatch and sped away.

Fleetingly, he was glad Artoo wasn’t there, the droid wouldn’t have missed this opportunity to make fun of his astonished face. He swallowed, felling heat spreading on his cheeks, and a strange effervescence stirred his belly, adding to his excitement.

They reached Ben's old hut without encountering any other problems. Instinctively, Luke looked up at the house, and his blood boiled in anger at the sight of the lit windows.

He and the Mandalorian grazed the hills, in an effort to be as discreet as possible, and when it was obvious that they couldn’t approach more without being seen or heard, they stopped in a small enclave. The Mandalorian quickly got off his motojet, beckoning to Luke who was getting out of his landspeeder to follow him without a word.

They bypassed from the south, using the steep terrain to hide. Soon, they finally arrived to Ben's hut. The still-lit windows indicated that the Chiss was still inside. Luke knew he couldn’t have been away, no one was crazy enough to venture in the Tatooine Mountains in the middle of the night at the mercy of the first Tuskens who came.

The Mandalorian laid down on his stomach and glanced silently at the hut. Luke imitated him, waiting and remembering his friend's old house. It consisted of only one main room, but inside, there was an access to a cave that served as a workshop and reserve of food. He mentioned it to the Mandalorian, who nodded in thanks.

“I'll go in first, stay outside to stop him from running away if he manages to get out. Aim at the legs, I want him alive.”

Then, the Mandalorian straightened up slightly before approaching the house. Luke watched him move, his figure tense but his walk confident, like a deadly shadow ready to pounce, powerful and...

Uh... what?

Surprised and embarrassed by his own thoughts, Luke tried to make himself as small as possible, his face suddenly ablaze. Where did that come from?

Why was he suddenly so hot?

But Luke didn’t have time to ponder the way his imagination was going. There was a flash of light, then a clamor in Ben's house made him raise his head and rush forward. He heard the sound of a piece of furniture overturning, the window in front of him shattered, and a completely blue-skinned figure leapt outside. Luke immediately lifted his blaster aiming for his legs, but the Chiss fell on him, destabilized by the lasso that had tied itself around his ankles. Luke swung backwards, falling heavily on his back, the Chiss on him. His baster got lost in the sand.

The rest happened very quickly. Luke felt the Chiss hands around his throat, and lashed out to free himself. He managed to disengage himself enough to give the Chiss a kick in the face that stunned him. Then the Chiss fell back forward, knocked out by the Mandalorian who had furiously banged the butt of his rifle on the back of his head.

Time froze for a few seconds, then the Mandalorian dropped his rifle before rushing towards Luke.   

“Farm boy! You okay?”

Catching his breath, Luke barely had time to realize what had just happened, that the Mandalorian was already pulling him by the arm to take him away from the Chiss, before kneeling before him, feverishly palpating his arms, his waist, delicately taking his face in his hands.

Luke wanted to lean in his hands so much.

“I... I'm fine," he forced himself to say.

The Mandalorian's shoulders sagged with relief. His hands slid from his face to his throat, where the Chiss fingers had tightened trying to strangle him. He couldn’t suppress a furious spasm, gently caressing the skin with his fingertips as if to erase the traces.   

“You've... You fought well,” the Mandalorian breathed.

The compliment sounded hollow even to his own ears. He lifted his helmet to look at Luke, scrutinizing him carefully.

Luke tried not to blush under his gaze. He didn’t know why, but since the beginning of the evening, he felt more and more responsive to the Mandalorian. And he had the curious impression that the Mandalorian felt it too. But, more than that, he had the most curious impression that the feeling was mutual, judging by how gently the Mandalorian was caressing his throat.

Then Luke felt the Mandalorian stiffen suddenly and carefully walk away from him. He was unable to suppress a moan of protest.

“Farm boy...”

Luke closed his eyes in frustration. He had never cursed his incognito so much. He didn’t know what he would have given to hear his real name pronounced with such fervor, such fever...   

“Farm boy... I think you're in heat.”

What?

Chapter Text

Given the situation, the Mandalorian had to improvise. He had the choice of taking the landspeeder with his bounty on the passenger seat and leaving the motojet to Luke, or leaving the landspeeder to Luke with the bounty while he was driving the motojet. These mere ideas immediately turned his stomach, and he chastised himself for even considering them. There was no way he was leaving Luke alone, on a vehicle or with the bounty, given the state he was in.

In the end, he tore old sheets to tie the unconscious Chiss on the motojet, and found a length of rope to tie the motojet behind the landspeeder. Then he put Luke on the passenger seat and got at the controls, praying not to meet the Tuskens again. Apart from the fact that he didn’t have time to negotiate their way again, he knew that the Tuskens would make very short work of the boy. His hands angrily clenched at this idea.

He could only do one thing: bring Luke back to the farm, bring the bounty back to his ship, take the necessary items from his ship, then return to the farm and...

Luke squirmed in his seat, and the Mandalorian willed himself to focus on the road. The boy’s scent was gradually growing stronger, making him dizzy. It was fresh, a bit woody, like a forest on a rainy day. It felt absolutely divine. He couldn’t help but breathe deeply, basking in it.

The Mandalorian had to beg all the deities he believed in to give him all the necessary restraint not to stop the landspeeder and have the boy, here and now, in the middle of the desert.

“Is it the first one?” he forced himself to ask.

Luke, who was desperately trying to get more comfortable, turned to him.   

“What?”

“Your heat. Is it the first one?

“I, uh, I don't know...”

“You've ever felt that way before?” the Mandalorian insisted.

This time, Luke shook his head. The Mandalorian swallowed nervously.   

“Have you ever had partners, at least?”

“Partners?”

The Mandalorian turned his helmet towards him.

“Have you ever had relationships? Sex? With an alpha or a beta?”

Luke's embarrassed silence was an answer in itself.  

“A few times... Before...,” he breathed.

Before the war, the Mandalorian understood. He was surprised; he would’ve expected a bit of… hanky-panky between army pals. But it reassured him to a lesser extent. At least the boy wasn't a virgin, it would make things easier.

“I'm going to take you back to the farm,” he said. “Your droid's going to keep an eye on you, until I load the bounty in my ship, and I'll come back to join you. You'll be alone for about an hour.”

The Mandalorian tried not to think about the fact that he was mostly speaking to tell himself what to do. But he had no other choice. He couldn't take Luke with him to Mos Eisley, his scent would throw all the alphas they'd meet on his heels. They could’ve stayed in the house in the mountains, but he knew the heat would easily last for two or three days, and he couldn't leave the Chiss tied up in a corner, starving to death, while...

Luck seemed to be on his side, on the way back, for they didn’t meet other Tuskens. And the Mandalorian recognized with relief the farm in the distance. He accelerated over the last hundred yards.

Artoo whistled with surprise when he saw Luke emerging from the landspeeder in the Mandalorian’s arms, panting and covered in sweat. He lifted a lens that was meant to be accusing on the bounty hunter who didn’t spare him a glance, grunting an imperative “follow me”.

Artoo followed them to one of the rooms, and the Mandalorian delicately laid Luke down on the sandy ground. Artoo beeped with concern, but the Mandalorian pointed a finger at him.

“Keep an eye on him,” he ordered him sternly. “Don't let him out of this room. I'm going to my ship and I'm coming back. In the meantime, no one comes in and no one goes out, you understand me?”

The Mandalorian sounded so peremptory that the droid didn’t try to argue. He biped in agreement and went towards Luke.

Luke looked up at the bounty hunter, who was gently stroking his hair.   

“Wait for me here,” he said patiently. “I'm going to drop off the Chiss at my ship, I'll take what I need, and I'll be back. Your droid is going to stay with you, until then.”

Luke moaned with dismay, overwhelmed at the thought of the Mandalorian leaving, but the man, after taking his hand in encouragement, got up and left the room. Luke wanted to get up to try to follow him, but Artoo intervened, beeping and stirring energetically, forcing him to lie down.

Luke closed his eyes and rubbed his sweat-covered face. He could hear the motojet driving away from the farm, and the deafening silence made him sob uncontrollably. He was all alone. His heart was beating dully in his chest and frustration was eating at him. It felt like his skin had become too small for him, like it was swarming from head to toes, and he had such a feeling of emptiness.

“Artoo...” he hiccupped hopelessly “...what's going on?”

The Mandalorian had asked him about his... heat? What did that even mean?

Artoo seemed to hesitate at that, and then let out a string of whistles that, even in the state he was in, made Luke flush in shame. He was in heat. His body had begun a complex physiological process for the sole purpose of procreation. For two or three days, he was going to want one thing and one thing only: to mate with an alpha. Repeatedly.

Luke scoffed bitterly at that. An alpha? Which alpha? He was all alone, abandoned in that damn farm. Which alpha?

Artoo patiently answered that this was precisely the reason why the Mandalorian had asked him to keep an eye on him. He was bringing his bounty back to his ship, and then he'd come back for him. He was the alpha with whom he would mate.

Luke felt heat pooling in his belly, thinking of the Mandalorian. Furtively, he dreamed of his broad shoulders, his musky, somewhat metallic scent, his hoarse voice, and his mind was overwhelmed with confused sensations, a warm breath in his neck, a body pressed against his, powerful and manly, and he wanted. He wanted.

He wanted the Mandalorian.

He wanted his gaze on him, and his hands clenched on his waist. He wanted his voice growling in his ear, suave and possessive, while he was dismantling him, atom by atom, and he wanted, wanted, wanted...

Oh.

He let out a moan of surprise, suddenly feeling the dampness between his legs. And he cried, remembering that he was alone, that the Mandalorian was gone, and that he might change his mind, that he might not want him and that he would not return... And Luke moaned in despair, frantically tugging his clothes, seeking a small comfort with a feverish hand.

Then, after a while, Artoo whistled with hope and lifted his lens, as if he was hearing a noise. Rolling towards Luke, he picked up the lightsaber abandoned on the sand and hid it in his dome.

“Artoo...?” Luke worried.

But the droid beeped with optimism, and Luke heard an engine stop outside of the farm. A dull anguish seized him by the throat. Did anyone know he was here? His blood froze and he curled up in fear, imagining that the Mandalorian had been lost, that someone had attacked him, that someone had felt his presence and had come for him, alone, helpless... The Mandalorian, where was the Mandalorian?

He suppressed a miserable groan.

Then a musky metallic scent filled the room, and Luke saw the bounty hunter in the door frame. And it was as if, suddenly, all the tension that had accumulated in his body was brutally unleashed. He fell back on the ground like a ragdoll, with a cry of relief.

“You're here,” he sighed desperately.

“I'm here.”

The Mandalorian quickly approached him and fell to his knees beside him, and Luke threw his arms around his shoulders, feverishly grabbing his armor. He buried his nose in his neck, basking in the delicious scent of musk and metal.   

“Here,” the Mandalorian said, moving something towards his face.

Luke instinctively opened his mouth, and felt a tablet on his tongue. Despite the water offered to him, he swallowed it dry. Then the Mandalorian took something placed next to him, and tied it around his neck. Luke felt leather under his fingers, enclosing his entire throat. Then his vision turned black under the blindfold that the Mandalorian put over his eyes.

“I'm sorry, farm boy. But you'll have to trust me on that.”

His voice was hoarse, despite the modulator. The boy’s scent was intoxicating. He had to gather all his willpower not to push the boy on his back, pin him against the ground and just take. He swallowed nervously. He tied the cloth over Luke's eyes, who groaned in protest, but didn’t try to remove it.

“Don't worry,” the Mandalorian assured him, “you won't be aware of anything much, anyway.”

Luke didn’t answer, shivering with anticipation. He sensed the Mandalorian moving before him, and heard a hiss. Then, he felt a hand pressed on his face, caressing his cheek with a reverence so bright that a wave of affection washed over him. Luke felt the calluses on his fingers, his rough skin, and he drowned in that hand, rubbing his face against the palm without restraint. Then a second hand took his face, immobilizing him, and he felt lips on his own.

Oh.

Luke felt the rustle of a mustache, a jerky breath on his chin, and the sound that came up in his throat sounded indecent even to his own ears. He clung feverishly to the Mandalorian, his heart beating, drunk with desire, and he felt the bounty hunter’s skin under his hands, he felt his hair, and he felt him shudder against his body, desperate, boiling with lust and untamable, and he pulled the man in his arms and swung on his back, opened, offered, and he wanted, and wanted, and wanted...

True to the Mandalorian’s word, Luke wasn’t aware of anything much after that.

Chapter Text

Luke opened his eyes with the fleeting feeling that a bantha had stepped on him.

No, scratch that. He opened his eyes with the very certain feeling that a herd of banthas had stomped all over him. In all directions.

It was daylight, that was for sure, judging by how the light of day burned his retina. He mumbled something as he buried his face in his arms, and the sudden movement awakened nerves that he had never thought existed. He growled with pain and surprise.

He felt something move by his side, and someone stooped to him.

“Farm boy? You okay?”

Luke looked up, and recognized the Mandalorian. His armor was shining, reflecting light on the walls.

He squinted, trying to straighten himself.   

“What do I look like?”

The Mandalorian didn’t answer, simply helping him to sit. Luke stuck his elbows on his knees, burying his face in his hands, and looked down at himself.

Oh.

Oh.

That was... enlightening.

And memories rushed back to him like a speeder. And his face must have betrayed his emotions, because the Mandalorian slightly recoiled back.

“Farm boy, are you okay?” he worried.

For a second, Luke was very eager to die, here and now. To become one with the Force. Or to disappear into the sand. His face turned into a shade that would’ve put a Devaronian to shame.

Luke was no stranger to the pleasures of the flesh. He had sometimes woken up from a vigorous night with an occasional hickey or a bruise, in his youth. But that was something else entirely.

His body was littered with marks. He had bruises on his hips and his arms, where the Mandalorian had grabbed him, and inside his thighs. The top of his chest and his shoulders were punctuated with teeth bites, some of which were mottled with colors that would not disappear before several days. Luke ghosted a hand over his throat, feeling the sensitive skin under his fingers, as if it had rubbed against something. Luke vaguely remembered the leather neck gaiter the Mandalorian had forced him to wear.

Flashes after flashes, Luke remembered it all. With the blindfold covering his eyes, he couldn’t see anything. But he remembered the Mandalorian's hands clutching at his hips and his voice grunting hoarsely in his ear, he remembered the Mandalorian taking him, proudly and fiercely, as he was himself babbling incoherently, drowned in his own intoxication, as if there was no tomorrow, and it had been glorious, and it had been so good...

But, more amazingly, was this incredible feeling of... serenity?

Luke was completely stiff, he felt like he couldn't walk straight for several days, he was adorned with bruises and bites, his head was hanging miserably, wondering how he was going to explain himself if someone he knew saw him like this, but he was feeling wonderfully good.

He was peaceful, and even happy. He had arrived on Tatooine tired of the New Republic, preoccupied with his status as a Jedi and his place in the universe, and now he felt nothing but a providential well-being.

He guessed that getting so spectacularly laid did this to him.

He lifted his head to look at the Mandalorian, and smiled softly.

“I'm fine, thank you,” he whispered, and it seemed to reassure the Mandalorian who nodded.

“I let you get dressed,” the man said softly, before walking away to give him privacy.

Luke watched him leave, then looked around, finding his clothes neatly folded by his side. With a self-deprecating laugh, he remembered throwing them away, and felt grateful to the bounty hunter for his kindness. He quickly dressed, moving to chase away the aches in his limbs, and heard Artoo approaching, whistling with joy to see him again.

“Hello, Artoo,” Luke greeted him with a smile. “What time is it?”

Artoo beeped mischievously, answering that it wasn’t a matter of hours, but a matter of days.

Luke choked at that. A matter of days? How long did they...?

Almost three days, answered the droid. He and the Mandalorian had been indeed very busy. Luke's cheeks went ablaze, thinking that Artoo might have been there to see what had happened. But the cheeky droid assured him that he had stayed in the garage to keep watch, and that he had had no intention of seeing what was going on. Hearing their... enthusiasm had been more than enough, thank you very much. Luke’s face took an even redder shade, and he hurried out of the room to hide his embarrassment.

The suns were high in the sky, it was probably almost midday. Looking up, Luke saw the Mandalorian working around his motojet, tying his scarce belongings together. In a burst of enthusiasm, Luke went up to join him. He tried not to think about his sore legs, as he was going up the stairs.

The Mandalorian turned when he heard him coming. He made a move to go towards him, but decided against it.

“How do you feel?” he asked instead, and Luke couldn’t suppress a grin.

“Perhaps better than I was, uh, three days ago?”

His quip amused the Mandalorian, who laughed softly.

“Seriously”, Luke insisted. “Did it really last… three days?”

The poor boy’s dumbstruck face was almost comical, but the Mandalorian couldn’t help but notice how he was worrying at his bottom lip.

“Yes,” the man admitted. “It's been something. It’s the first time I meet an omega going through his first heat, but from what I know, they're always longer.”

“Don't tell me about it,” Luke grimaced. “I'm not going to walk straight for a while.”

The Mandalorian couldn’t help but puff his chest up in pride, but no one commented on it. There was a silence, and then Luke blinked as the Mandalorian’s comment registered.

Wait...

“Did you say it was my first heat?” he choked.

The Mandalorian tilted his helmet, confused by Luke’s obvious ignorance of his own biology.

“Yes,” he answered, then he raised a hand, as if to soothe the boy’s growing panic.

“But it won't be like this time. They tend to come by surprise the first time, but after that, you’ll feel them come several days in advance. That'll give you time to get ready.”

Luke opened and closed his mouth hearing the explanation.

“I—” he stammered. “So, I’m going to have to find an alpha every time it happens?”

But the Mandalorian shrugged.

“Some omegas do, some don’t. The choice is totally yours. You'll see what's best for you at that moment.”

Then he shook his head, as if he couldn’t believe that he was having this conversation.

“Seriously, farm boy, what did they teach you in the army?” he laughed, and Luke looked at him, his mouth and eyes wide open, falsely offended.   

“Hey, I was fighting the Empire,” he defended himself with a smile that betrayed his hilarity. “I was learning to tackle down Stormtroopers, not my comrades.”

That last joke managed to relax the atmosphere, and Luke then pointed at the motojet.

“You’re getting ready to leave?”

The Mandalorian followed his gaze, and bowed his head with what almost looked like regret.

“Yes, I must return to my covert to bring back the Chiss and get my next puck.”   

“Oh.”

If Luke felt a twinge of sorrow, he did everything to hide it.

“I didn't delay you too much, did I?” he worried.

The Mandalorian turned his head towards him so quickly that Luke didn’t even have time to see him move.

“No,” the bounty hunter said categorically. “You didn't delay anything. It would’ve been cruel to leave you like that. I have...”

His shoulders fell back, and he gently took Luke’s hand.

“Thank you for trusting me,” he said. “And thank you so much for trying to understand my culture.”

And his kindness was so raw, so blinding, that Luke wasted no time in doubting it. He shook the Mandalorian's hand.

“Thank you for earning that trust,” he replied sincerely. “I’m glad to have known you, Mandalorian.”

The bounty hunter bowed his head.

“Take care of yourself, farm boy.”

“You too.”

Luke's heart sank a little as he felt the Mandalorian's hand leave his own, and he watched him get on his motojet, then speed away in the desert, away from him, becoming a tiny point on the horizon.

Silence fell on him like a heavy blanket. He looked around, his gaze absently following the sand dunes, feeling the light wind on his cheeks. He looked at the farm, still and empty again, but now full with new memories... He had to stop himself from grinning like an idiot. If Uncle Owen and Aunt Beru saw him...

A whistle caught his attention, and Luke turned to Artoo, who was coming towards him. He opened his dome, showing Luke his lightsaber. Luke grabbed it, feeling the familiar hilt in his hand, and turned it on without thinking. The green blade fused in front of him, vibrating with a dull energy. He considered the lightsaber in silence, and then made a decision. He turned it off, and instead of hiding it behind his back, he hung it on his belt with purpose. The droid thrilled with joy when he saw him display his status so openly.

Luke looked at him, and smiled.

“Artoo, let's go home.”

He almost floated to his landspeeder, and drove towards Mos Eisley.

The speeders' store bought it from him at a lower price than Luke had paid, but Luke accepted the offer without arguing. He pocketed a handful of credit before heading to the spaceport where his X-Wing was waiting.

He settled in the cockpit with a lighter heart than when he arrived, with a newfound energy. Artoo beeped happily behind him, but Luke barely heard him. He took one last glance around him, on the spaceport, and then towards the city, still buzzing with life and yet still stagnating.

His shoulders fell back with a blissful sigh, and Luke took the controls.

Right, it was time to go back to being the last Jedi of the New Republic, now.