Chapter Text
Din was having a perfectly normal evening with a cup of coffee and one of Grogu's mini bags of goldfish when the inquisitors came.
The aggressive knocking came late enough at night that it was unusual, but not so late that his guard was up. Boba came late at night sometimes, and even Paz would come knocking when he'd been kicked out of whoever's bed he'd been sharing. Any other visitors were typically dissuaded by the long drive through the mountains to get to his cabin, along with Din's general habit of only associating with his son and a few close friends. So Din didn't think much of it when he stood, brushing goldfish crumbs off of his shirt, and made his way to the door.
"If you're here to spend the night, I've already told you that--" Din cut off suddenly as he was met not with Paz's guilty puppy-dog eyes, but with the stern faces of two men he'd never even seen before.
"Din Djarin?" the first man asked, his smile cold. Din hesitated, looking between him and his partner warily. They were both in dark suits, and Din could see the shape of guns strapped to their sides underneath their suit jackets. He suddenly itched for his armor and weapons. The man seemed to take his silence as an answer, flipping open a badge and flashing it in Din's face, too fast for him to even read the name. "We're here on behalf of the GIL, and we received a tip that a wanted omega may have been seen near your home recently."
Din tilted his head. "I thought inquisitors were Jedi hunters."
The man smiled, seemingly nonplussed by Din's noncooperation, but Din could recognize the tightness around his eyes that showed he was more annoyed than he was letting on.
"We do investigate cases of illegal, non-registered Jedi, yes," he conceded. "But right now we're looking for an omega."
"Well your tip was a false lead," Din said, crossing his arms at the two men and giving them his best intimidating stare. "I haven't seen anyone, and I'm too far out from town for someone to have made their way all the way here."
"Then you won't mind if we take a look around?" the agent asked, cold smile still in place. Din hesitated, thinking of Grogu asleep upstairs, and his skin crawled at the idea of these men wandering around his home.
"You're free to look around outside," he finally conceded, "but I've got a kid asleep upstairs and I don't want you waking him up."
"We won't come inside without probable cause," the agent agreed, although it sounded more like a threat than a promise. "We'll be back once we've scoped the area."
Din nodded stiffly, watching the two men steadily as they stepped down the worn wooden steps of his front porch. Slowly, he shut the door, locking it with the deadbolt before beelining upstairs to check on his son. Of course he had no reason to believe that anything would be wrong, but the same instincts that had kept him paranoid and alive for every gruelling year he'd been bounty hunting were itching with the need to make sure Grogu was safe. He took the steps two at a time, rushing down the hall as quickly as he could. When he reached Grogu's door, he stopped and took a deep breath before slowly pushing the door open. To his relief, his son was curled up on his little toddler bed, breathing deeply and hugging his stuffed frog close to his chest. He murmured a little in his sleep, and Din felt his anxiety quell for the time being as he watched his son sleep.
Quietly, Din shut the door again and made his way back downstairs. The front door was still locked, and Din could see the silhouettes of the two men through his front window as they looked around the porch. One of them must have seen his movement behind the window, because he suddenly looked up and met Din's eye. It was the second one, the one who hadn't said even a word through their entire conversation. Din froze, watching, and the man smiled at him before moving to where Din could no longer see him. Din felt his arms erupt with goosebumps, and before he could second-guess himself, he pulled the blinds closed.
Quickly, again filled with that itching paranoia, Din made his rounds through the house, checking the locks on his windows in every room. When he made it to the kitchen, he moved to lock the back door that led to the little garden he'd been working on. Before he could even touch the lock, though, he saw the doorknob turn slowly. Din froze, watching the door as it slowly pushed open.
He couldn't believe the audacity of these men. He specifically told them that he didn't want them in his house.
Angrily, Din reached for the door (that was still opening painstakingly slowly) and yanked it open. A stream of curses were on the tip of his tongue, but he froze when was met not with the cold, smiling faces of the two inquisitors, but with a head of blond hair.
There was a man on his back porch, curled up on the deck with a single hand raised to reach the door knob. He was breathing heavily, and Din saw the red glint of blood pooling underneath him, although he was desperately trying to staunch the flow. His right hand was wrapped in what might have once been a white sweater (it was hard to tell, since the fabric was now dyed a dark bloody red), and he had a suit jacket wrapped around his shoulders. As the door swung open, the man jerked back, sharp blue eyes wide with fear as they looked up at Din. He was speaking before Din could even think to react.
"Please, please don't let them find me. I'll pay you, I'll do-- anything, I'll do anything, please just don't tell them I'm here, they'll kill me-- "
"Okay, it's okay," Din interrupted the man's panicked pleas, glancing up to make sure the inquisitors weren't in sight. The glow of their flashlights could just barely be seen from around the corner of the house.
Din thought of his son upstairs. He thought of the two inquisitors and their cold smiles that he didn't trust for a second. He thought of his armor and weapons in the upstairs closet, and he thought of everything he knew about the Galactic Empire. Din made a split second decision.
"Get inside, come on," he said urgently, leaning down to help the man to his feet. He swayed, likely due to the blood loss, and as he leaned into Din's side he caught the unmistakable scent of omega.
"Thank you, oh gods thank you, I thought they were going to kill me, oh force--"
"Shh," Din hushed gently, looking over his shoulder quickly as he helped the man stagger into the house. The inquisitors still hadn't made their way around the corner, but it was only a matter of time before they did. Dins eyes fell to the blood on the ground, and he winced. He needed to clean that, and quickly.
"Hold on," Din said, and he scooped the man into his arms. The omega gasped, closing his eyes against what was probably a bout of dizziness.
Quickly, Din climbed the stairs and rushed into the upstairs bathroom. Some of Grogu's bath toys were scattered on the floor, and Din pushed them to the side with his foot before lowering the man into the tub.
"Ok, I need you to strip," he said urgently. The omega looked up at him, scandalized. "Not right now," Din quickly clarified. "Your clothes are going to smell, and you need to cover up your scent as much as possible. Throw your clothes outside the bathroom door, and I'll take care of them. You'll need to fill up the tub and submerge yourself as far down as you can go in order to cover your glands." Din paused. "Do you know where your glands are?"
The omega glared at him. "Yes."
"Ok, good," Din said, unbothered. "I'm going to go try and clean up the blood downstairs."
Before the omega had a chance to argue, Din was sprinting down the hall as quickly as possible. He grabbed a towel, along with a bottle of bleach, before he hurried to the kitchen. The omega had been able to staunch quite a bit of the blood, judging by how few smears of blood there were on the ground, but it was still noticeable. Cursing, Din crouched down and started scrubbing furiously, wiping away whatever evidence remained of the stranger's entrance. When the kitchen tile looked just as clean and shiny as it ever had, he slowly moved to the door itself.
Through a crack in the curtains, he could see that the inquisitors were closer now, yet still hadn't turned the corner to the back of the house. If he was quiet enough, he could mop up whatever blood had pooled on his porch.
As slowly as possible, Din turned the handle to the door, willing it to be silent as he pushed it open. Fortunately, luck was in his favor, and the door was almost completely silent as he swung it open. Quickly Din dropped to the floor and began scrubbing furiously at the old planks. He could hear the low voices of the men just around the corner, and the sound of their footsteps crunching in the grass seemed to be getting louder and louder. In a quick movement, Din dumped the rest of the container of bleach on the porch and down the steps, before he darted back inside and gently shut the door behind him.
He stormed up the stairs, turned the corner, and almost screamed when he nearly tripped over a tiny, waist-height person in his path.
"Daddy?" Grogu mumbled, rubbing at his eyes. He was still remarkably sleepy looking, considering the only things that had kept him from getting bowled over were Din's quick reflexes and his tight grip on Grogu's forearms.
"Hey, buddy, you need to go back to bed," Din murmured, trying to sound reassuring instead of panicked. He glanced back down the stairs, half expecting the inquisitors to be standing at the bottom.
"Mm," Grogu whined, reaching up and wordlessly asking to be picked up.
"Okay, okay buddy, let's go to bed," Din said, hoisting Grogu into his arms. He quickly looked towards the bathroom door, noting the pile of bloody clothes waiting just outside. Gently, he tucked Grogu's head into the crook of his neck, effectively blocking his view, and in three quick steps he pushed into Grogu's room.
Everything was just as he left it, to Din's paranoid relief. Carefully, he lowered his son onto the bed and wrapped him in his blanket, tucking his frog under his chin.
"Good night, bud. I love you." He paused. "Stay in here, okay? Daddy has some things he needs to do."
Grogu nodded sleepily, curling into his blanket.
"Okay. I love you," Din said again, moving to the door.
"Love you, daddy," Grogu mumbled back. Din allowed himself a brief moment to make sure Grogu was settled in for the night, a soft smile on his face, before he shut the door and quickly scooped the omega's clothing into his arms. Not a moment later, a pounding knock sounded from downstairs.
" Shit," Din whispered, running down the stairs two at a time. He looked towards the kitchen-- washing the clothes would take too much time, and he wouldn't be able to fill the sink quickly enough to hide the scent. He glanced at the empty bottle of bleach and cursed quietly, before spinning on his heel and coming face to face with the crackling flames in the fireplace he'd remodeled the year before.
That would have to do.
The inquisitors knocked again, louder and more impatiently, and Din decidedly chucked the clothing in the fire before dashing around the corner and to the front door. He took a moment to breathe, trying not to look like he'd been running around the house like crazy, before he reached out and pulled the door open.
"Mr. Djarin," said the inquisitor, looking decidedly less pleasant and markedly more annoyed.
"I thought I told you I had a kid sleeping," Din bit out.
"Our apologies," the inquisitor said, though he didn't look apologetic at all. The second inquisitor was as stone-faced and silent as always. "We found evidence that leads us to believe the omega may indeed have come to your home."
"What evidence?" Din demanded, trying his best to appear disbelieving. "You don't think I'd know if some stranger wound up at my home?"
"Well unless you can explain the traces of blood on your lawn?" The inquisitor smiled in a way that could be described as nothing other than smug. He obviously thought the evidence was irrefutable.
"I'm sure you saw the chicken coop out back?" Din countered, raising a brow. The inquisitor faltered at that.
"Yes, we did," he confirmed hesitantly.
"Well I don't just keep them around for their eggs, if you know what I mean," Din continued. The inquisitor was no longer smiling. "We just had chicken for supper, actually, so it wouldn't surprise me at all to find blood all over my lawn."
"Mr. Djarin, we also found evidence that traces of blood led to the kitchen door, and that there was a heavy stench of bleach. This leads us to believe you may be covering up for--"
"You mean cleaning my property?" Din interrupted, ignoring the increasingly reddening face of the inquisitor. "Last I checked, it wasn't illegal to scrub your porch. Especially not after the mess that happens when you butcher a chicken."
"We'd still like to investigate--"
"Not without a warrant," Din stated, folding his arms over his chest. "You've done nothing but accuse me of crimes I haven't committed, and your evidence is shaky at best. Now if you'll excuse me, I have a son to get back to."
In a last moment of what seemed to be desperation, the inquisitor looked to his companion and gave a pointed stare. The second man's nostrils flared noticeably, scenting the air, and he took a single step forward. Din had his vibroblade pulled in an instant.
"Get off my property," Din growled. Both men froze, weighing their options, before the second man took a step back and shook his head at his partner. The first inquisitor's face fell, and he glared back at Din as he stepped away.
"We'll be back with a warrant," he threatened. Din scoffed.
"Make sure you tell them all about the chicken blood you found," he sneered. The inquisitor glared, but didn't respond, and Din watched them sharply as they ducked into the unmarked car in the driveway and backed out of the driveway.
Din watched them until the car was nothing more than a puff of dust in the distance, and only then did he feel safe enough to step inside and shut the door. He made sure to lock it, sliding the deadbolt into place, before he took a deep, calming breath.
What in the world had he gotten himself into? Din harbored no love for the empire nor for the Inquisitor's League, but that didn't mean he was some kind of reckless Rebel. He'd managed to skate by for most of the war by bounty hunting, trying to avoid bounties for either side, and by keeping his head down when Galactic officials were near. He couldn't risk the trouble it would cause at the time, and he certainly couldn't risk it now-- not with his son's safety on the line.
Din inhaled sharply, then tried to let it out slowly. Even though his paranoid side was screaming danger! at full volume through his head, Din couldn't regret what he'd done. This omega didn't deserve to be killed, not at the hands of some corrupt, shady inquisitors. Din could only assume the omega had offended them in some way-- perhaps a jilted lover or a prostitute that got more than he bargained for. Regardless, Din knew he'd done the right thing. And now, he needed to clean up the mess he'd made.
With a heavy sigh, Din turned and made his way upstairs. The house was quiet, and he checked in on Grogu briefly to make sure he was still asleep before leaning into the bathroom door and knocking gently.
"Coast is clear," he said softly. After a moment, he heard the sloshing of water in the tub. He stepped back as the doorknob turned, opening to reveal the omega with a towel wrapped tightly around himself. His injured hand was wrapped in another towel, blood already beginning to seep through the fabric.
"Sorry," the omega whispered, and swayed dangerously to one side. "Got blood on it."
"Woah, hey, it's ok," Din said, reaching out to steady him. The omega leaned against him heavily, and Din stumbled a little under the unexpected weight. "Let's lay you down," he said, looping the man's arm around his neck.
They stumbled into Din's bedroom, and, as carefully as possible, Din lowered the man onto his bed. With practiced motions, he moves to check the man's neck for his pulse, then froze.
There was a mark there, just below his right ear. It looked jagged and ugly, nothing like the few marks Din had seen in his lifetime. It didn't look fresh, but somehow still looked raw and inflamed. Din had no idea what that meant, but he could guess that it wasn't a good sign.
Later, Din chastised himself, resuming his evaluation. He checked the man's pulse, frowning at how light and fluttery it felt beneath his fingers. The omega didn't seem to have any severe injuries beyond the hand that Din had yet to examine, so he turned his focus to the blood-stained towel.
"I'm going to take this towel off, okay?" Din looked up at the man's face, only to find his eyes closed and fluttering behind his eyelids. Din frowned worriedly. It was best to get this done as quickly as possible, that way the omega could get some real rest.
Gently, Din started to peel back the layers of the towel. The blood seemed to be flowing much more slowly than before, which Din decided to take as a good sign. At least, he did , until the towel was all the way off.
"Dank farrick, where's your karking hand!?"
The omega peeled his eyes open, looking blearily down at Din's surely gobsmacked expression. "Lost it," he slurred.
"You--" Din took a sharp breath in, then let it out slowly. "You lost it."
The omega's head rolled in what could have been a nod.
"Okay," Din said, shaking his head in disbelief. He'd deal with that when the omega was cognizant enough to hold a coherent conversation. For now, the omega's wound needed serious examination.
It appeared that the wound had been mostly cauterized, which explained why the omega hadn't died or passed out from blood loss yet. There were a few openings along the edges of the cauterization where the forearm abruptly ended, and blood was oozing out slowly and thickly. The best course of action, at least from what Din understood, was to wrap the whole thing and hope that it healed on its own. The cauterization was actually quite smart, assuming the omega had cauterized it himself. Din shuddered at the thought, imagining how much it must hurt. He wouldn't be surprised if the omega passed out from the pain alone.
After a quick stop to his medicine closet, Din gave the omega a handful of pain meds before focusing his attention on the wound itself. He gave the injury a healthy dose of bacta, liberally coating the wrist three times before he was satisfied. He then unrolled the bandages he'd grabbed from the hallway closet, wrapping the wound until no blood was seeping through.
"The bacta should help, but you might need to have a real doctor look at that," Din said, meeting the omega's eyes with a grimace. He was surprised when a flash of fear crossed the man's face.
"No doctors," he said, panicked. "It'll be fine, please, don't take me to the hospital, I can't--"
"Alright, alright," Din interrupted, holding his hands out non-threateningly. "No hospitals."
The omega sagged in relief, his eyelids drooping. He seemed to almost melt into Din's mattress, and Din couldn't help but pity the poor thing. He must be exhausted.
"You need to rest, omega," Din said, heaving himself to his feet. "Let me find you some clothes, you can stay in here for the night."
"Luke."
Din was almost out the door when he heard the omega speak. Surprised, he turned around to meet the omega's piercing blue gaze. The pain meds must have kicked in, because the man was the most relaxed Din had ever seen him. He looked so soft, buried in Din's blanket and blinking at him in the soft yellow light.
"My name," the omega clarified. "It's Luke."
The corner of Din's mouth turned up into a smile. "Luke, then," he agreed. Luke smiled back at him, sinking back against the pillow.
"Thank you. For letting me stay here tonight," Luke whispered.
"It's not a problem," Din waved away the words, leaning briefly against the doorframe. He could feel his cheeks flush a little. "Breakfast is at 9."
"Thanks," Luke smiled, his eyes almost closed.
"Sleep well," Din said, then shut the door behind him and made his way to the living room.
He lowered himself into the couch with a grunt, pulling the throw blanket over himself and grabbing a cushion for his head. Tomorrow he would see what he could do to help the omega and send him in his way, but for tonight there was nothing more to do but rest.