Chapter Text
Din Djarin had never seen the eye of a storm until he had seen the Jedi.
It had been close at times. There was Ahsoka Tano, the one-woman army. There were the dictators he crossed the wrong kind of words with. Hell, there was even the kid himself, and the vacuum of chaos that chased him no matter where Din carried him off to. With the Jedi, though, it hit him as soon as he stood out from the smoke that was left in his wake. Steam and gnarled droid groaning in his wake, Din saw what a Jedi was. The apparent calm surrounded by destruction. And later, when that black cloak had flickered out of sight, Grogu swept along with him, Din found himself pulled into that storm along with the rest.
It is hard to come to terms with the power equivalent of a Death Star taking the kid along with him.
Din is seated in the pilot seat of his ship, weeks past the separation. Hehas spent most of his time spaceside without a sun to mark the days since he returned Grogu to his people, or rather “person”. The Jedi have a severe lack of people, Din is unable to shake from his mind. Even after he makes a pitstop here at Wobani and there at Naboo, Din can’t stop thinking of that last image he has of Grogu. The Jedi and him in the lift, scattered droid around them, and then gone.
Din wanders every which side of the galaxy without any idea which direction is the right one. The new weight on his hip slows him down if anything, rather than guide him to his new calling.
The look Peli Motto gave him on Tatooine, his last stop, is no help. The panic in her eyes at his pause when she asked where the kid was. Din rolls his helmet in his hands as he looks out at the stars ahead of him, taking in the possible paths ahead. Next job is the programming. Next job, pick up the puck, carbo-freeze the bounty, feed his creed, rinse-repeat. Back to his bread and butter.
But Din can’t bring himself to think of Greef Karga and any latent connections he may have, let alone ask a rando who looks like they fit the part if they have any pucks they’d want taken off their hands. He refuses to think of the Armorer and just what he will say when he faces her. The refuge Bo-Katan offered him in her clan after the separation, despite the bitter twist of her lips as she eyed the darksaber, is not an option. Period. No, rolling his helmet between his palms, he is stuck staring at his distorted reflection on its surface until he looks back into the galaxy.
The stars are so much sharper with his helmet off.
Here he is. Floating. Eyes at times falling to that lever with Grogu’s ball screwed onto it, and he isn’t even going to pretend it is supposed to be used for anything else anymore. He closes his eyes as the beat down ship he “reclaimed” from the Imperial Cruiser drifts through the void.
Peli Motto’s wide eyes and grimace from just a few hours ago still play behind his eyelids. “Just tell me, that little womp-rat-” she managed through grinding teeth as she stared unflinchingly at Din, eyes screaming what her mouth isn’t. Her shoulders were drawn taught and R5D4 had begun to trill from where it watched.
“He has been returned to his people,” Din said. His person, a tempest of a man draped in all black with a face like a still pond. The pitbots skittered past Din’s legs to tend to his ship and he didn’t even get the heebie jeebies that still usually hit him when a droid comes this side of just-too-close.
He had to clear his throat to speak. “This is the way.”
And, hours later, he is still thinking over those words over in a way he never had before, not even those weeks leading up to and after his initiation ritual. He rolls his tongue in his mouth as he stares back down at the helmet in his hands. He thinks, and thinks hard. His fingers tap against the beskar and his lips, pulled down into a frown, worry together.
This is the way.
Time passes without Din marking how long it has been, thinking, mulling his paths forward and that fight with Moff Gideon weeks ago. He thinks about the kid, and seeing him with his own eyes, the feel of that little hand, those little claws, against his face.
He mulls.
And his mind is made up.
He suddenly can’t stand to process another second.
He punches in the coordinates and flies into hyperspace, destination clear in his mind.
----------------------
It takes three days after that to find Ossus. They called him the best hunter in the parsec for a reason.
Those three days still give Din ample time to think, really think about what he is doing. While the Jedi hadn’t tried to take his head the way Ahsoka Tano had upon their first meeting, he had still left a pretty imposing impression, the destruction surrounding him while he wore that calm smile on his face more terrifying in hindsight than a direct threat could have been. While Din hadn’t been able to see the Jedi’s fighting well on the small security footage screen, he had passed its trail upon leaving the ship. He had passed the near-impenetrable droids sliced-up like sandwich meat, strewn about the ship. He even saw one droid that had seemed to have collapsed into itself, unpierceable metal crinkled together like aluminum foil. The thought continues to disturb Din as lands on the planet where he had tracked Grogu and the Jedi to.
So, he may be an unwelcome guest to the man who had crinkled up a Darktrooper like a papertowel. With his mind.
It would be better not to walk in blind.
After a quick scan for life signs and density, he steps off the ship, no hesitation in his stride, Din made sure to land an hour from where he suspects Grogu and the Jedi are held up and starts that walk with his eyes peeled, taking his time to observe the terrain, look for any tracks, marks, or anything that spells out danger to him. Nothing shows up, until he is thirty minutes from the site. Then, he begins to see trails. One pair of footsteps far enough spread that they must have been left by someone running. Five minutes further, he spots tracks of the same size next to some small signatures, little footsteps that Din recognizes in a heartbeat. He keeps his pace steady, not to rush, and the density of the life signs grows more and more as he approaches.
He is couple minutes away from where he had originally read life signs on his ship when he makes visual contact. He crouches low into a prone to avoid being spotted, and takes out his scope to observe the situation and create his plan for entry.
The Jedi is doing a one-arm handstand, eyes closed and face as still as before. The long cloak is off, although his sleeveless shirt-piece, loose pants, and boots are still all black. And, as Din drags his scope, there is Grogu. He focuses in and sees that the kid remains in the cloak that has always worn. He has a pinched expression as he sits down cross-legged, facing the Jedi with his hands stretched and reaching out at his sides, exerting or searching for something. Probably whatever Jedi practice looks like is what they are up to. The look of intense concentration on Grogu’s face bubbles relief in Din’s chest, and he has to bite his cheek to keep himself from letting out a laugh.
Don’t get too comfortable, Din. That Jedi could turn you into Swiss cheese with a flick of his hand.
Part of the weight that had been on his chest the past few weeks lifts anyway with his eyes on Grogu again. He moves the scope to finish his survey the surrounding forestry, finding nothing to be of great interest: no visible traps. He does see tracks made by a rolling droid, but the tracks are all of the same size and Din assumed before that the droid who had been with the Jedi on the Imperial ship would be here, too.
Din moves the scope back to Grogu, still in that same position, arms slightly stretching out more, deeply focused on whatever exercise the Jedi has given him. It does make Din happy to see that despite how stubborn the kid can be, it seems like he is adjusting well to this new life. Something does pull at him all the same, but Din doesn’t linger on it. Instead, he returns his scope to the Jedi to think about how to announce his presence.
The eyes staring back at him through the scope, color greyed due to his helmet’s visual filters, jolt Din, and he freezes in reaction before forcing himself to relax his body. The Jedi’s stare is somehow fixed right back at Din’s despite that it should be impossible, at this distance and through the foliage Din made sure to keep between them. Even without that, when Din is face to face less than a pace away from people, it is a matter of luck whether their gaze even passes over his eyes through the helmet.
Ugh. Definitely freaky.
Din puts the scope back into his pocket and resigns himself to a simply entry. No point in planning how to announce his presence when it is, well, announced. At the very least the Jedi doesn’t seem hostile… yet. Din’s skin crawls thinking about how the Jedi found his presence, mid-meditation when he should have been unaware and across a standard cargo ship’s worth of distance. Grogu’s powers, this Force, Din contemplates, must have many more abilities than simply letting Grogu push things around with his mind.
Din brushes the twigs and dirt from his armor as he gets to one knee and stands up. He makes sure to keep his walk tall and steady as he approaches the two, the branches and dried leaves crunching under his steps. The Jedi lowers his other arm to the floor and gets out of his handstand, gracefully landing on the floor before straightening out his clothes from how they had bunched up in his inverted position. The kid, though, doesn’t have such a calm ending to his meditation.
Grogu blinks out of whatever zone he is in at the new noises, or maybe sensing that the Jedi had left the meditation, who knows, and upon turning his head at Din’s footsteps and seeing the man himself, still at quite a distance, all but screeches. He tries to run over to Din, his little legs only able to move so fast, hands outstretched, and all thoughts of making a strong impression on the Jedi fly from Din’s mind.
He runs harder than he had to dodge the Krayt Dragon to the kid to pick him up and hold him tight in his arms.
“Yeah, I’m here, Grogu. I told you we would meet again.” Din gives Grogu his free hand and Grogu clasps it, happily cooing and pulling at the leather of his glove. Din looks up to see the Jedi who remains back, a slight smile on his face.
A start of adrenaline sprints through Din. This man, with a gentle smile and seemingly carefree disposition, is the same man who could probably crinkle beskar with his mind. While he looks relaxed, he had looked relaxed seconds after destroying the squad of Darktroopers, in a room surrounded by Mandalorians and mercs, as if there was not even the most remote threat to him there, and there probably hadn’t been. It definitely isn’t a natural kind of calm the Jedi has, and while Din knows that the man probably would have make his unhappiness known already if he were upset with Din’s arrival, Din can’t say that comforts him much. He thinks back to that crunched Darktrooper and has to hold back a shiver.
Standing face to face with the Jedi, even with quite a bit of distance still between them, Din feels defenseless in a way he hasn’t felt since he was… young. And with the fear that comes from his helplessness, he feels the pain and anger of that memory, just from looking at a man who has the face of someone who wouldn’t harm a fly.
If the Jedi can sense his discomfort, he doesn’t show it. “He is quite happy to see you,” he calls over instead. “You two have quite the connection.” Din tenses a bit more at connection. Ahsoka’s refusal to train Grogu due to their attachment remains heavy in his mind, and is his second most prominent worry outside of survive the encounter. He doesn’t want to get in the way of this for Grogu or put the Jedi off of training him.
Thankfully, no shadow or judgement falls on the Jedi’s features. His soft smile remains and if anything, he looks happy looking at the kid in Din’s arms. Grogu, upon hearing the Jedi’s voice, squirms in Din’s arms and begins to reach away from Din to grasp for him.
Din tightens his hold on Grogu instinctively, reflexively wanting them both to keep their distance from what honestly is a walking killing machine. Although it was just a slight, automatic thing, after the Jedi caught his eye from such a distance, Din doubts that his action passed unnoticed. He feels even more on edge, thinking about how little he can hide from the man, feeling utterly defenseless in every aspect.
However, Din complies with Grogu’s request. He stays tall as he strolls toward the Jedi until he stops a couple of paces short from where he stands. And now that Din is looking at him without the adrenaline of facing an onslaught of Darktroopers or the grief of having to say goodbye to Grogu rushing through him, the Jedi looks more like a kid than anything. He must be barely 20. This close, while Din can’t make out the Jedi’s coloring well due to his helmet, he can make out faint scars on the right side of his face. He had seemed untouchable in when he had come to rescue them, but looking at him from this close, Din sees a human. Hell, a boy.
Din glances down and sees the lightsaber hung on his hip.
Well, not quite.
“How has he been adjusting?” Din asks as Grogu continues to play with his glove, even attempting to mouth at the fabric. “Stop that!” Din hisses, pulling his hand away to shake his finger at Grogu, before Grogu gives him a whine and Din gives him back his hand. “You don’t know where that’s been, Grogu,” Din chides, although he always feels his scolding goes in one ear and out the other with the kid.
The Jedi laughs, a slightly crooked smile on his face, causing Din to look back up to him. Grogu grasps at Din’s glove once again. “He’s quite the thrill seeker, as you know.” As you know. That way of speaking was the most overly familiar thing he’s heard since… maybe ever. The Jedi continues, “You’ve done a lot to keep up with him. Grogu appreciates it greatly.”
Everything this Jedi says to him rubs Din in… well, a way he doesn’t really appreciate. Kriff, it is like the Jedi is even at the point where he is speaking for Grogu to Din. Does he really know Grogu so much better than Din does after these couple of weeks? It could be true. Not only are the Jedi Grogu’s people, but it seems like not even a fly could escape this guy’s notice.
Din remains silent, staring at the man. Grogu remains rolling in his arms to try and touch both of them, but Din feels a sense of smugness that the kid isn’t willing to leave Din’s arms to reach the other man.
After a beat, the Jedi goes on, unperturbed.
“Grogu has been adjusting to practicing the Jedi arts once again,” he drawls, nodding slightly to himself as he watches Grogu. “He has lived such a varied life, with so much chaos, especially for someone so close with the Force. I’ve been trying to give him stability and a foundation here to work off from. Begin with meditation, everyone’s favorite,” Din can’t tell if the man is sarcastic or genuine in the statement, “although I make sure not to bore him too much.” He breaks into a grin and a slight laugh at himself. While it seems like the man is calm and off-edge, Din’s heart doesn’t quiet and he remains rigid in his stance. The Jedi says with a smile, “It seems like he’s gotten a bit of an adventurer’s heart from you.”
Definitely very familiar. Din feels the urge to step away, although he knows it would do nothing to hide himself from the Jedi. He stays rooted instead.
“You speak as if you know me,” Din states instead. The more they talk, the more Din feels weary of the Jedi’s easy jokes and smiles, especially when Din isn’t returning the gesture for him.
The man tilts his head slightly, small smile remaining on his face. “Well, I don’t, but Grogu does. I know you a bit from what he shares about you. Also, a bit from how he feels about you. You and I are strangers, though.” The Jedi ends the statement with a non-committal shrug.
Din processes the easy way Grogu can communicate with the Jedi. The easy way the Jedi speaks to him. He can’t make sense of it. “We are,” he agrees. Grogu goes back to mouthing at Din’s glove and Din gives up on trying to get him to stop. The kid deserves it after how long they had been separated. Din looks down at Grogu happily gumming. “It seems as if you have cared for Grogu well.”
Another quiet smile from the Jedi. “I try.”
“You succeed.” Din is trying his best to be friendly with the man who agreed to take Grogu in, despite all the issues other Jedi like Ahsoka may have with him. But he can’t get over the lump in his chest that grows throughout the conversation. The terror he was feeling is still there, albeit less charged, and now is mixed with the jealousy at the Jedi’s fast bond with Grogu, and he feels… unease, maybe, regarding the familiar way in which the man treats him.
The Jedi laughs, seemingly unaware of Din’s tenseness or path of thought. “Well, I doubt you came here just to flatter me. Would you like to sit down to continue this talk?” He gestures toward the ruins behind him, where some sort of cave is.
Din remains still and doesn’t respond for a moment. The Jedi this time doesn’t jump to fill the silence. He looks at Din with his calm countenance, waiting.
“I’m a Mandalorian,” Din finally explains.
“You are,” the Jedi agrees. He adds nothing else.
Din rolls his eyes behind his helmet, even through his anxiety. “I gave you Grogu without much talk before, you and me? We’re different.”
“Why are we different?”
He is either naïve or playing dumb. The unease builds in Din. “You are one of Grogu’s people, someone he belongs with.” Din lays out, shifts his footing to lean away from the Jedi. “We have no such tie. We are strangers, as you have said.”
The Jedi nods at this, looking again to Grogu in Din’s arms, now contented to maw on the glove after the weeks apart. “We are strangers,” he repeats.
Din nods back. “The Mandalorians who have made it…” he doesn’t care to elaborate about what they have made it through, “they didn’t make it by trusting every kid with a smile they came across.”
The Jedi furrows his brow, seeming to be troubled, while simultaneously his mouth twitches as if resisting yet another grin. “You see death in me,” he says instead.
Din tenses again. The man sees too much.
“I just don’t want you to think I’m dumb enough to just walk into a stranger’s hide-out, even if that stranger is keeping track of my-“ Din stumbles over the slip but doesn’t correct it “-kid.”
It’s ridiculous, really. Din knows this guy could off him here and now if he wanted to. Din can’t feel or use the force himself, but he can feel the power the Jedi carries in his gut-instinct to leave, a power exponentially stronger than what Ahsoka had wielded in front of Din. Maybe it is even unnatural amongst Jedi. But really, he doesn’t want to be treated like an idiot by this guy, even if at the end of the day Din knows it is entirely out of his hands how this conversation goes.
The Jedi lets out a sigh and puts his hands on his hips. Now that Din thinks about it, the Jedi is pretty short compared to him, having to crane his neck up to look Din in the eye. Din fights the urge to break the contact. He isn’t used to the pressure of someone’s gaze. The Jedi tosses his hair out of his eyes, looking away for a second before looking back at him.
“Well, it’s hard to really begin, but I’m Luke Skywalker. A Jedi,” he confesses, leaning in with sarcasm, exaggerating his motions as if he were talking to a confidante. His next words are softer. “Feel free to ask anything you need to know about me. I’ll answer anything I can.” And then silence. End of statement. It is as if the Jedi is waiting for the first question of Din’s to come up.
Din sighs at the absurdity of the statement and adjusts his weight again. “You really think that cuts it?”
The Jedi shrugs and steps closer to Din, who stiffens but holds his ground. Grogu coos and reaches out, grabbing at the neckline of the Jedi’s shirt. The Jedi does nothing to stop him, barely glancing at Grogu. “What do you need to ‘cut it?’” The air-quotes are clear in his tone, although it remains light. Din shakes his head, adrenaline pounding at their proximity although he keeps his breathing even.
“That’s not how this works and you know it.” Din still can’t make this guy out. He sure has the mask of a kid, young and just this side of too-pretty, but scarred at the same time, although they are just small little things that do nothing really to mar his looks. The Jedi smiles too easily, which is caused by either naivete or deception, and from how he had dispatched the droids, Din doubts it is the former. Din just knows as surely as he knows his gear that there is something else slithering about beneath the man’s smile.
“You’re right,” the Jedi admits. “But this is what I can give. And if you want more, I will happily give that to you, if I can. I want you to feel comfortable with me and Grogu working together. You only have to ask.”
Din swallows, glaring down at the Jedi. His short stature and easy gaze do nothing to decease how imposing he is, his gaze fixed back on Din’s somehow.
“Is that what brought you to us?” the Jedi nudges with a crooked smile. “To check in on Grogu?” Grogu, who is burgling at the both of them, one hand on the Jedi’s shirt and the other grasping Din’s glove.
“No,” Din replies firmly. “No, I came for Grogu.”
While the smile remains on the Jedi’s face, his eyes become unreadable. “To take him,” Skywalker states rather than asks.
“No,” Din corrects again, rubbing and tickling one of Grogu’s ears, causing a trill of giggles from the kid that stops Din from speaking for a second. He looks down at Grogu, his hands still fisted, one clasped to each of them. Din’s eyes soften as he takes him in. Grogu is looking right back at Din, curious tilt to his head as if he is also waiting for the answer. Din lets out a small smile. No matter how terrifying the man a pace away from him is, there also is his son. His son. A thought he is still wrapping his head around.
“No, I’m sticking around with both of you.”