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The first time Din met the ghost was in the middle of the night. He didn’t wake up screaming (because if he made noise the droids would find him-) but he was covered in sweat and he couldn’t even get close to calming down his breathing. Where were they? The room was dark. They could be anywhere. At any moment he would hear the screaming, the heavy steps around him, above him-
“Shhhh, shhh, little one, it’s alright”
What? The little cellar his parents put him in was way too small to fit another..
“There is nothing dangerous here, nothing that will hurt you… Ah, kriff, I wish I could actually talk to people”
“Who’s there?” He managed to say between silent sobs. Through the haze he could see…a figure…with a weird glowy blue outline…
“ You hear me?”
Of course he could hear the voice, which he absently noted was weird, he shouldn’t be able to hear that well considering all the blaster noises–
That weren’t there. He was gripping sheets, not his Aq Vetina robes. There were no droids, only people wearing metal. Painted metal. Cared for, different, without scorch marks, serial numbers and electric violence. He was in his bedroom. And there was a person in here.
He looked up. A glowy blue lady looked back.
“Who are you?”
She took a step back in shock.
“I’m… dead. And you shouldn’t be able to see me.”
“Oh. I’m… sorry?”
She seemed to come over her shock.
“Well, there’s nothing anyone can do about it.”
They sat in silence for a bit.
“So if you’re a ghost, and I can talk to you…” He trailed off. He normally didn’t speak, like at all, but if there was a chance …
The ghost lady looked at him.
“I… haven’t really seen anyone else around. It’s just been me… sorry.”
Oh. So he wouldn’t be able to…
“Hey now, don’t cry,” she moved a bit closer. Not enough to corner him ( would she even be able to block him into a corner? ) which was nice of her. Just. Showing concern.
He cried harder.
“I’m.. is it your parents?”
He nodded.
“I’ll try to keep an eye out, alright? But it’s really late now, you should go back to sleep.” She reached her hand out and patted him on the head. Well, above the head.
Din didn’t want to go to sleep. There were droids there.
Ghost Lady’s face shifted.
“..Would you like me to tell you a story? Maybe hearing another person nearby will make it easier to feel safe.”
Yes, Din did actually want to hear a story. He nodded and tried to settle again beneath the blankets.
“Alright. There is a story I often was told as a kid, not that I learnt anything from it in the end, but I believe I could still tell it word-for-word if I tried.”
Din nodded at her to continue. Already her voice was soothing him to sleep, but he did actually want to hear the story too. He saw her take a deep breath, and look to the ceiling, probably remembering the words. And then she began.
“Marley was dead, to begin with. There is no doubt whatever about that. The register of his burial was signed by the clergyman, the clerk, the undertaker and the chief mourner.
That’s the closest family member, if you were wondering.
Scrooge signed it. And Scrooge—”
He drifted off to sleep, the story of why-rich-people-aren’t-to-be-trusted drifting off with him. There were no more droids that night.
-=-=-=-
He has met the ghost a couple of times now. She calls herself Padmé, and says she used to be a politician. Used to be, because she’s dead now. She’s a ghost. That’s weird. Apparently, Din is the only one that can see her, at least out of all the people she’s been around after dying, and she likes to check in on him. Social inter-acts is good for your mental well being and all that. He was learning a lot of adulty-words when talking to her.
Right now he was playing - training . He was pretty close to the other kids his age, and they were training with the wooden knives. Some of the adults were watching over them, including Padmé. Not that she could really do anything about the other kids if she had to.
There was something happening. Two of the others were getting louder and louder, and closer to an actual fight.
“ I wanna use this knife!”
“You ALWAYS use this knife! I want to use it TOO!”
“Do NOT!”
“Do YES!”
One of them was stretching so far backwards she was almost tipping over, a slightly smaller kid trying his hardest to reach the wooden knife she had clutched in her hand.
“That knife is LONGER and I wanna try it too!”
“Nuh uh! This is MY training knife!”
Wait. Din knew a perfect adulty-word for this situation.
“No it doesn’t, that knife belongs to the collective!”
One of the adults who had started to make his way over snorted. Probably in awe of Din’s adultiness.
“Where’d you even learn that word, ad’ika?”
He pointed at Padmé. He knew no one would see her, but it was funny. The adult looked over.
“The- the wall?”
Another adult came up and slapped the first adult on the back.
“You heard the ad, vod’ika! The walls here preach communism!”
“I mean, technically the knives do belong to the collective..”
-=-=-=-
It was lesson time! Din liked lesson time, because he got to learn things. Learning things was good, both buir and Padmé said so, so he tried to focus really hard.
Today they were learning about all the different parts of the armour. There were so many! They also got to hear the different stories, like how they first learned to make armour from the mythosaur, or how you sometimes used the same word for armour pieces and cooking tools because people used to use them to cook food over fire. Sometimes while hunting mythosaurs.
Din was all busy thinking about the big animal (and how it in some stories was really important and you should respect it, and in some stories a group of Mando'ade go to hunt as many as possible) when someone across the room asked about the helmets. Goran answered.
“When you swear to the creed and become Mandalorian, you will no longer take off your helmet in front of people who are not in your family. The helmet will instead become your new face, the face of our clan. It shows that you belong with us. We will not take off our helmets in front of any living being. This is the way.”
“This is the way!”
Now Din had a question. He raised his hand slowly. Padmé visiting him whenever he's awake at night helps a lot, but he still doesn't speak very often. The Goran looks over at him. He instantly wants to bring his hand down again,( because wow that stare looks really scary, ) but he HAD to know.
“Yes, ad’ika?”
“Do dead people count?” Phew, he said it. The Goran did the little sad head tilt all adults did when they remembered that most of the kids’ birth parents had- no not now .
“No. If you are, for example, on a hunt where you need to protect yourself against a dangerous opponent that you then manage to kill, you can take off your helmet to check your wounds without repercussions.” Wow, the Goran sure loved long sentences and long words. “It can be done if the opponent is simply knocked out as well, but it is not recommended as there is no way to tell when they might awaken.”
That was probably really good answers, but not really what he was after. He raised his hand again.
“But, if the dead people aren't in their bodies? What if they're…. floating around?”
The Goran looked more understanding and less sad-head-tilt-y.
“In many of our stories and legends, our warriors consult their ancestors before going into battle. If you ever are in that situation, and the Manda provides, you may take off your helmet. They are your ancestors after all.”
Din thought of Padmé. They were related?
Well, if proper mando’ade talked to their ancestors before doing things, it must be a good thing to have the ghost with him. She could help him whenever she felt like!
-=-=-=-
Din was walking through a marketplace. He wasn't on a hunt, he'd actually just finished one, and as a result his purse was heavier than usual. This seemed like a good time to stock up on bacta and non-perishables. He moved with purpose between the people. Well, until…
It was a clothing salesman. Something he usually wouldn't stop for, considering the armour, but they had something that caught his eye. Capes . He could wear a cape over the armour. Yeah, he could definitely do that.
Knowing fully well that this was definitely a waste of credits, he slowly started making his way over.
“Ah! Hello! Here to look at my wonderful-” the rodian’s sentence ended in a gulp as he looked out from behind a clothesline.
He stared at him.
“Yes. I'm here to look.”
The rodian looked even more nervous.
“Well! You do that..”
She disappeared back behind the cloth.
There were many different colours and shapes to look at. Reds, oranges, blues and greens as well as more neutral blacks, greys and sandy beige were kept on the stand. Some ended with a point, some were thin and rounded like… well, they were thin and rounded. Some had synthfur, some did not. The Goran wore fur, he knew. But that was real. As he looked over a certain green and shimmery one, he felt the certain wiggle of the air that meant Padmé had arrived.
He quickly made a fist at his side and made it face forwards and sideways a couple of times. Opinions?
She looked over at the lineup with a critical eye.
“Well you shouldn't get anything too colourful.” A pause. “You haven't painted your helmet yet, and you don't want the colours to clash, so you should go for the neutral ones.”
Yes, that was about as far as he'd gotten.
“Also, you should stay clear of the ones with synthfur around the neck because of your unhealthy habit of ending up in firefights and explosions. Really, you're almost half as bad as my husband.”
That was a good point. Burning plastic around the neck wasn't very good for you, even with good air filtration systems. And from all he'd heard about Padmé’s husband, “almost half as bad” would be considered suicidal by anyone in a normal profession.
“You should go for the rectangular one.”
Really? Not a lot of interesting shape there. He took out the dark grey cape and held it up.
“It will make your silhouette bigger. Square shapes are also associated with people who are reliable, stable and solid which is an impression you want to give off. You definitely couldn't have a rounded edge, because circles are associated with childishness, kindness and innocence.”
Huh. That was something people think about? Well, the cape seemed to be pretty good quality from the tag, and had clasps that would be easy to put under his shoulder pieces. He made up his mind. He had enough bacta to last him a while anyways.
…Well, at least the rodian lady seemed less scared when she saw he actually was there to buy something. She even managed to talk him into grabbing a business card and a complementary brooch.
“On the house, I assure you!”
Where would he even put this thing?
-=-=-=-
Oh no. This client was rich .
He slowly walked up the too polished stairs, with the too swirly wooden handrails and the too tall ceiling with the too colourful mosaic windows. This was just… too much . All he wanted was to back up and leave this place, return to the Razor Crest and fly back home to the comfort of the dark and labyrinthine tunnels of his covert. His family.
Is this what generational wealth and the wage gap looks like in the physical world?
He knew he was wealthier than a lot of the Galaxy’s inhabitants (considering slavery), but this was extreme. Padmé, walking beside him, seemed to agree. Her face was contorted in the grimace she made when there were pretentious shabuire around and she remembered they couldn’t see her.
“Look at these sculptures. Absolutely atrocious. Don’t work at all with the rest of the décor.”
…what?
“And then there’s also the fact that they’re clearly meant to look like Wookiee artworks, but they’re so badly made that they wouldn’t fool even a hobbyist antiquarian. Look at the roots of this sculpture! This is bordering on sacreligious actually, whoever owns this place clearly doesn’t know anything about pastiche.”
About kriffing what now?
“It’s not even well made. Come, look over here.”
He reluctantly walked over to a carved wooden sculpture portraying a tree. It was… a sculpture of a tree. He looked questioningly at Padmé. Did she expect him to know if it had too clustered leaves on the lower branches or something?
“Look. Look at the trunk, that’s where it’s the most obvious. There’s scratches and mistakes all over. There was no professional carver involved in making these, I can tell you that.”
Huh. That was actually useful. Whoever his client was lived in the most expensive-osik house he’d ever seen, but displayed fake art? That was definitely odd.
A young, pink-skinned teenager ran out of one of the less gilded doors and came up to him. She shied back a bit when his hand instinctively moved towards his side, but as soon as he brought his hand down again she walked up to him.
“Sir, the master of the house wishes to see you as soon as possible. I will show you the way.”
“Alright.”
The master of the house? That didn’t bode well.
-=-=-=-
This guy was one of the sleaziest guys he’d ever had the misfortune of talking to. With a laugh like a holo-star specifically aiming to portray “I’m better than you and I’m only within your presence because I find you amusing” and several young women trying their best to tend to everything while being in sight as little as possible, Din really wanted to get this done as soon as kriffing possible. Apparently the guy owned some company producing some… skin product (that was either medicinal or just for beauty, he started spacing out like two sentences in). One of the workers had stolen a recipe for some new thing that they were about to start producing, with the aim to sell it to one of his competitors. Y-a-w-n.
The only interesting thing about this talk was Padmé doing her best to set the man on fire with (unheard) words alone. She had already roasted the fully carpeted floors, the extravagant hair-thingy that was apparently a stolen nabooian artefact (that contained four small hidden knives, good to know there are some sensible royalty), the entire rest of the outfit (down to the BELT BUCKLE), and of course his “unpaid interns” running around the place.
Din had been recording the entire interaction anyways and he felt he’d be justified to not take this job. It was part of his information at the Hunter’s Guild that he wouldn’t do any jobs involving slavery.
Well, that was until..
“So what do you say, Mando? Prepared to take the job? It will be easy for such an esteemed hunter as you, of course.”
He was fully prepared to decline and walk out of there.
“Take the job.”
What?
“Or, well, don’t take the job. But… I hate this. I hate everything about this so much. There is something else going on behind the scenes, I know it. And, I want those slaves freed.”
Well, alright then. He couldn’t outright take the job and then go against them, that would reflect negatively back on the Guild… oh, who was he kidding. This would reflect negatively no matter how he went about freeing the slaves.
…
… Unless?
-=-=-=-
One plot uncovered, building blown up, and four families freed later, he stood back in the ‘throne room’. Of course, he wasn’t alone. Even if he was a social recluse introverted, shut up Padmé, he did actually have some friends within the guild. Ones with similar stances to him.
He had simply walked straight out the door (which, if you’re hiring someone for morally dubious things, you’re gonna want at least a verbal agreement that they’re gonna do what you asked them to do), holocalled two friends of his, they agreed to join him, and the rest is history. And now he was standing back in the overly decorated, fully carpeted, wood sculptures everywhere, holo-star-absurdity throne room. Outside there were four freed women, a zabrak guy with a penchant for throwing knives, a lady who called herself Jozt( with the highest platform boots he’d ever seen), and her pair of scarily large attack-tookas.
While he was facing rich-guy. Alone, for some reason. They had a plan. At least he had Padmé with him.
“So I never actually took the job, which means you can’t complain about my serv–”
“SHUT UP!” His face was turning a really interesting shade that probably wasn’t natural for his species. “YOU RUINED EVERYTHING! IF YOU HAD JUST DONE YOUR JOB, I WOULD HAVE BEEN RICH! I COULD HAVE BEEN THE ONE TO FINALLY HELP THE EMPEROR WITH HIS DEVASTATING SKIN CONDITION, AND I WOULD HAVE BE HAILED AS A HERO!”
Wow, so this guy was delusional. That monster on a throne built on slavery and genocide (yeah, he did actually know a surprising amount of politics for someone who grew up in a sewer. Perks of having Padmé as a buir figure growing up.) was not someone he suspected cared a lot about looks.
Speaking of Padmé. She had so far just been walking through the walls nearby, looking bored, checking on the hired muscle getting closer and closer to their position. Now however, she looked up, alert and almost in chock.
“I need to go. I’m sorry, but this is incredibly important and I HAVE to be there. I will be back.”
He tuned out more screaming to sign at Padmé. What’s going on?
Padmé looked at him with a, frankly, terrifying grin.
“I finally get to go yell at my husband.”
And that was that. Padmé faded away, and the guy was still shouting.
“And I would have gotten away with it too, if it wasn’t for YOU!”
“Well, to be fair, my credentials say I do not work with slavers. Ever.” He turned his deadpan stare at Skin Condition Chancellor, whose mind finally registered that he had been screaming at someone who kills for a living. His hand, who he had been dramatically pointing with, practically wilted, and a large gulp was heard in the room. And that’s when the hired muscle arrived and Mister Idiot fled. Not through a secret door or anything, no, just another ornate one with a helpful sign saying “emergency escape ships this way”. And then he had to fight the mercenaries.
There were only two of them. The first went down instantly, punch to the face, but managed to grab one of his blasters and fling it across the room. What even was the plan there?
The other actually put up more of a challenge. He used an interesting fighting style which–JUMP–he never had been up agains-TWIST, GRAB, THROW–he should probably stop narrating fights.
The guy rolled and used his tail as a spring–SIDESTEP, KICK TO THE SHINS– OW , now his head was ringing, where did that staff come from, he quickly brought up his rifle to block the next hit, and then it flew across the room (osik, hope it didn’t break anything impor-) and now tail guy got kicked into a wall, and he’s rolling down behind on of the sculptures- (and this backup can show up any second now, what are they doing out there). He turned on the heat vision. Panting heavily, he looked around the room. His head was still ringing, and he was gonna have some really big bruises in a couple of minutes, but that wasn’t important right now.
Now that it was quiet, he could hear the sounds of a fight from the other side of the main entrance door. No backup then. Oh well, it was only the one guy.
And he knew exactly where he was.
“ KRIFF!” his hand went around the other’s throat and pushed him into one of the walls.
“I’m not here to kill.”
“Coulda fooled me,” tail dude slurred out. He was bleeding from the nose.
“I have no business with you two. Will you attack me again if I let go?”
The guy looked around shiftingly. “...yeah, I think we could work something out.”
-=-=-=-
Rich Asshat was running through the streets. They were vacant at this time, so he was easy to find with the instructions from Tail Guy and Face Punch Guy (who apparently had had a “problem with his exoskeleton” and that’s why he couldn’t get up for so long? Get another business to work in, you’re embarrassing yourself.)
He walked out from behind a building in a way that he knew was dramatic, it’s funny, ok? and stopped the runner with a hand.
“You won’t be leaving.”
But he didn’t look scared. Instead he just did one of those weird laughs again, and brought out a blaster from the hair thingy.
“You think you have won, Mando! But now I am the one with the weapon! And it seems,” he pitched his voice like he was talking like a small animal or a child, “like you’re all out ! A mandalorian without weapons!”
Now, this wasn’t even remotely true.
“A good bounty hunter always has another knife up their sleeve.”
“Isn’t it ace up your slee- SON OF A KARKING-”
That went well.
-=-=-=-
So, uh. He had a kid to take care of now.
Padmé absolutely adored him, which was good, because finding a jedi was probably gonna take some time. What was interesting was that the kid also loved Padmé.
Alright, so here’s how it went.
Din spends a lot of time drifting through space, and Padmé is with him a lot of that time. Padmé can’t interact with things. Din got her a… thing … that there probably was no official word for. It was basically just a long, slightly curved piece of metal that had an incision in it. Like a flat metal rainbow that laid on a table.
It was for placing cards in. Using it, Din and Padmé could play some casual card games, like go fish, and Padmé could look at her cards without having to hold them up. She simply had to point at which card from the “lake” she wanted, and he would pick it up for her and place it in the thingy. Genius, actually. Many hours had been spent playing card games, ghost-style.
That is what they were doing. It was pretty late in the cycle, and the kid was usually sleeping. But now, he had woken up and looked out of his floating cradle. And looked directly at Padmé.
This was, for the record, the first time he was awake while she was around.
From Din’s perspective, the kid had just woken up and had instantly decided to escape the cradle.
“Hey, kid, no no no don’t do that, you’re supposed to be sleeping, what are you even-” Din pushed his helmet back onto his head as quickly as possible, but it was fine, because the kid hadn’t been looking at him.
The kid had his arms raised out towards the other end of the table. Where Padmé was.
“What…?”
The kid started giggling. It was cute. Padmé started making faces at him
“Aww, aren’t you such a cutie, you must be so special to see me, yes you are”
The kid and Padmé were definitely not related. Din himself and Padmé had actually figured out (several years ago now, at about the same time Din told her she didn’t have to look for his birth parents anymore) that she probably was his ancestor in a way. One of her parents had a cousin that had lived on his birth planet. It was a pretty distant relation, but it was there. Probably. It would make more sense than if he just was a random person, which the kid technically was, so what the kriff?
The kid gurgled happily. Din put him next to Padmé on the table, where he started trying to grab at the decorative tassels on her dress.
“So uh…” he looked at Padmé, and only slightly hysterically said, “ What? ”
Padmé looked back at him, completely straight-faced.
“I have no idea.”
They decided to keep playing their game.
About four minutes later, the kid started to tire of waving his hands through the sleeves of Padmé’s dress with no result and started looking a bit cranky.
Din reached over the table to pick him up and put him back in the cradle.
“See, this is why you’re supposed to sleep at this time, kid.”
“EH!” His scrunched up face and balled up fists were (probably) textbook example of ‘kid needs a nap’.
“Alright, why don’t I put you back in here so you can rest,” he turned to look back over the table. “Don’t look at my cards.”
“EH!”
“No no no no, don’t grab at that, you’re supposed to go in!” The kid was waving his little arms around, blankets in a tight grip. And then he threw them on the floor. Din sighed.
“Alright, no, let me just–there you go.” He placed the child in the cradle. “Now you just need to calm down and get some sleep.”
The child didn’t want to calm down and get some sleep.
“Okay.. how do I…” he took a pause in his talking. “Would you… like to hear a story?”
And that did it. The magic words got the kid to finally relax and look up at him with those big eyes of his.
“Yeah, yeah. Alright. Story. So, uh…
Well, it starts off with a guy named Marley. And he is dead. A lot of people had signed off on his death, including the clergyman, the clerk, the undertaker, chief mourner… Even his employer, Scrooge, signed off on it. And this guy Scrooge, well…”
The kid was asleep within minutes.
-=-=-=-
He awoke to the sound of a beeping signal from the cockpit. Rushing past the sleeping frog lady he’d managed to get talked into bringing with, he sat down in his pilot chair and answered the call.
Razor Crest, M111, come in Razor rest, can you copy?
Kriff’s sake.
Two X-wings flew down at either side of him, like the arrogant shebs’palon’se they were. He internally sighed heavily before responding to them.
“This is Razor Crest. ‘s there a problem?” Hopefully not, but that was unlikely with these people.. All these new regulations were annoying to remember, and not even Padmé could get him to read them all.
We notice your transponder is not admitting.
“...yes, I’m pre-empire surplus. I’m not required to run a beacon.” C’mon, leave.
That was before. Damn it. This sector is under New Republic jurisdiction. All craft are required to run a beacon.
Another heavy sigh, this one not as internal as the last.
“Thank you for letting me know, I’ll get right on it.”
Not a problem
“..May the force be with you.” It never hurt to be polite.
And also with you.
...
Just one more thing.
“Yes?”
I need you to send us a ping. We’re out here sweeping for imperial holdouts.
“I’ll..” He turned to look at Padmé, who chose that moment to intervene.
“Tell them you are traveling on the orders of the Old Republic’s Extinction Prevention for Sapient Beings Program.” She looked over at one of the X-wings. “ They probably won’t be able to check your claim from where they are, and you ARE helping a sapient species against extinction.”
Seemed like a better idea than just a stall-and-run.
Yes?
“I’m here on the orders of the Old Republic’s.. extinction prevention for sapient beings program? EPSBP, you know. I’m on a very important mission to help a…”
“She’s povanarian.”
“...a Povanarian lady reach her husband with her eggs before their entire species goes extinct. No hyperspace. Incredibly time sensitive.”
The EPSBP, huh? Didn’t think the Empire would’ve allowed anything Old Empire to keep running like that.
“...No.. it was very secretive.. We’ve just started working around in the open without utilising smuggler paths again.. I’d be happy to..”
“Hear of your discretion”
“Hear of your discretion-”
“Until we can join the New Republic and once again become an official government organisation.”
“-until we can join the New Republic and once again become an official government organisation.”
Whaddya think, Carson?
Seems legit. Mind if we give you an escort to your location? As we said, there could be imperial remnants hiding about here and finishing off the last of a species seems like just the thing for them.
He made a face. Padmé noticed, and slapped him lightly on the head. Not that she could slap much harder than “lightly”, being a ghost and all, but it’s the thought that counts.
“Don’t make that face! Even if they just want to make sure you’re telling the truth, your story checks out and you’re doing what you said you’re doing. The escort will be good as well. They want to feel like they’re helping.”
“Or! Having two X-wings following me will make me a more attractive target for imps, than a random ship they won’t know anything about. I definitely won’t be stopping to show identification for them!” He meant that for Padmé, but forgot the cops also would hear him.
Three ships are better than one, Razor Crest. And hey, if you manage to bring imperials out, we’ll share the bounty all three of us after they're done.
Sadly that was a compelling argument.
“..Fine.”
The rest of the travel went without incident, and they landed on the Trask moon with a just as complete and functioning ship as when they left Tatooine. Well, almost without incident. Frog lady scared the osik out of him when she woke him up after figuring out how to use some droid remnants as a translator. Padmé laughed at him. She helped her with her backpack, grabbed the child, and exited the ship to hopefully not talk to cops.
He would admit that the frog lady reuniting with her husband was really touching, but he was too stressed over the situation awaiting him. How would he get out of this?
One of the pilots walked up to him. And said something he didn’t expect.
“Alright, Mando, looks like you’re a man of your word. When we get back to base we might be able to fix up some kind of ‘special force’-code or something, so you won’t be interrupted with your work.”
He genuinely couldn’t believe it. They’d give him a way to ignore other cops just like that based on (albeit a very fancy and political-sounding) lie??
“I’ll need your comm so I can send you the code when it’s ready though, and it’s only until your organisation— what’s it called again, EPSBP? —can get official recognition from the New Republic government. Alright?”
He noticed he was just staring at him in shock. It wasn't right at him though, so he probably wouldn't notice. But Padmé did.
“See what you can do with some ‘fancy language’ and ‘pretentious words’?”
Padmé’s words got him out of the chock and he gave the cop his comm.
“Sounds great.”
“You do important work, Mando.” That’s when he noticed the child peeking his head out of his satchel. He could visibly see him melt at the child’s little wave.
“Who’s that little guy then?” The cop waved back. “You bringing him home to his people too?”
“Yes.” He was.
“This one can take hyperspace, I hope. Well, it’s been good, Mando, call if you ever see any imperials. Gotta keep patrolling!” He walked up to his partner and they prepared for takeoff. Din turned towards Padmé.
“How did you know the organisation thing is still operational?”
She looked over at him with that smirk she had whenever she did something she was proud of.
“Oh, I didn’t. I completely made it up.”
“ What .”
She patted him on the shoulder and started walking. “I’ll show you how to falsify records of this organisation later,” a look back at him, “if you wanna keep using this as an excuse of course.”
“I- you’re tricking me into doing charity work!” He hissed at her. “I’m a bounty hunter! ”
“Let’s go look for those mandalorians”
-=-=-=-
“You’re a child of the Watch, she says,” Padmé says disdainfully, somehow wearing a completely different outfit than just a few minutes ago. For some reason, not even death was enough to keep her from her extravagant wardrobe. “As if you didn’t join a terrorist organisation because your political views were different from your sister’s.”
Din doesn’t say that out loud.
“There should be a law that stops her from talking shit.”
The three mandalorians quickly turn to stare at him (even more than they already were) when he “out of nowhere” starts hacking a cough.
“I’m- fine- ” he gets out. “Let’s- conversation.”
“...Right.”
-=-=-=-
“ Out of ALL THE STUPID THINGS YOU COULD HAVE DONE!”
Padmé was screaming at him. He got why–really, he did–but this was probably an overreaction. He DID survive after all.
“-JUST STANDING THERE TO LET THE KRAYT DRAGON EAT-”
She was whacking at him over the head. It physically did absolutely nothing, but he did get the point. Really. She could stop at any time now.
“-you have a CHILD to care for you absolute buffoon, not even my husband would do something so-”
“Ow,” he said, just to be polite. She paused in her whacking for half a second to just stare at him with the most angriest, disappointed glare he had ever seen, and went back to slapping his helmet.
“Don’t patronise me you di’kut’la verd, or I WILL find a way to physically fight the stupid out of you! You absolute MORON! You–”
Alright. He was gonna be here a while then. At least the child was amused, and he got the armour.
-=-=-=-
He shouldn’t cry under the helmet. That was bad. I mean, it could take a lot, moisture included, but it was better to avoid it if possible. But-
He’d just managed to get Grogu back. He’d fought the moff, he’d fought the droid stormtrooper things, he’d joined back with his team in the cockpit and they had locked themselves in there, enemies right outside the door. And then that man showed up. They could clearly see him on the monitors, disabling troopers as casually as ordering a drink at a dance party. (At least that’s what impression Cara got, and thinking back, he couldn’t disagree.)
That was a jedi. Grogu was leaving.
And he’d just gotten him back. But, he had to make sure.
“Are you a jedi?”
“I am.” He brought his arm out towards Grogu. Grogu didn’t move.
“He doesn’t want to go with you.”
“He wants your permission,” the jedi responded. He said some more things too, but Din wasn’t listening to that. He lifted Grogu up, slowly, towards his face. His helmet. Why was he thinking like that? His helmet was his face, there shouldn't be a distinction.
“I’ll see you again. I promise.”
But then Grogu brought up his hand to the helmet. His helmet. He had to-
His hand was moving without his permission. He smoothly unclasped the seal and lifted the helmet off his face. Grogu was looking at him. At his face. And then he heard a choking noise.
“Are you an angel?” He looked up at the speed of light.
“ What? ”
“I-” the jedi was staring at him, becoming more and more red by the second. He brought his hands to his face. Din could pick up a “ why did I say thaaaat…… ”
And then Padmé, who had been staying quiet, snorted behind him. Actually snorted. And then started laughing the hardest he had ever heard her laugh.
“It goes in the- PHAHAH -family I suppose!” she managed between choking on air. Still laughing, she walked over to the jedi, who was trying his best to blend in with the battered door behind him.
“Aren’t you forgetting something now?”
“I-Right! Contact information!”
Din had no idea what was going on anymore.
“Contact information?”
“Yes, so you can, wait did you think I was taking him from you? Like, permanently? Ohhhh nooooo , why do I keep messing this up?” The jedi groaned in annoyance, and brought his hand to his belt. “Was that why you- karking damn it , you are an idiot , Luke, the guy was..” it turned into incoherent mumbles. “Here’s a datastick, it has the location of the school I’m building and my contact information so you can visit your son, uhh, there will be specific visitation days, you can’t just drop in, but-”
“No, this is.. This is great,” he managed to get out, while trying not to sound like he was holding back tears. (He was). “That is so much more than I expected, I’m.. yeah.” He put his helmet back on and looked to Grogu, who was now in the arms of the jedi. (Luke?)
“I’m- I’m happy.”
“Alright, yeah, I’ll be.. Going now then.. Y’all have a great time!”
As the door was closing behind him they could all hear another muttering of “ Y’all have a great time? Why did I say that? ” before the sound cut off.
Ten seconds passed. Then twenty.
“Smooth, Mando.”
“Shut up, Fennec.”
-=-=-=-
Apparently the laser sword he’d stolen from Gideon made him the ruler of an entire planet. Who knew? (Padmé knew. She didn’t tell him. Apparently she forgot that… myth? Law? until Bo-Katan started cornering him about it.) Bo-Katan was pissed, of course. She had wanted the thing. He didn’t particularly want the thing, and kept trying to hand it off to her, but she wouldn’t accept that. Apparently it needed to be won in a duel. And he was too injured to duel. Thumb war or rock-paper-scissors was not enough.
Even while on bedrest, Bo-Katan took to harassing him about everything and anything (“In preparation for when I get the darksaber”). Lately it was some law she wanted passed.
“It is your duty as Manda’lor to pass this law!”
Din could not be blamed for what he said next. He was high on painkillers.
“Hold on a second.” He turned to Padmé. “What do you think?”
“Her political opinions suck, Din. Tell her no.”
Alright. He turned back to Bo-Katan and her friends.
“Senator Amidala says no.”
“ WHO? ”
Did he mention he was high on painkillers? He did a little wiggle with his hands.
“You know… the Ghost of Republic past?”