Yaimpar [yay-EEM-par]- Return.

The trip home wasn't as harrowing as the trip to meet with Montross, but only barely. Roz wavered between life and death twice and only Anakin's steady faith kept Jango's hands from shaking. He couldn't lose another family member, he just… couldn't.

By the time they arrived home everyone had heard of Montross' defeat at Jango's hands. There was a sense of triumph and victory at finally getting vengeance on the co-conspirator in Jaster's death. But as he watched them wheeling Roz out on a stretcher, his son worrying his hands and rushing to follow, he couldn't bring himself to fee celebratory.

"Anakin." His son stopped dead in his tracks and turned to look up at him, shoulders dropping and eyes pinched with concern.

Jango strode forward and enveloped him in a quick hug. "Stay with ba'vodu Roz but keep out of the way. If a baar'ur tells you to leave you will obey."

His son hugged him back fiercely and gave him a small smile of gratitude. His boy knew that he was still in trouble, and would have to apologize, but for now family was more important.

After his son left to follow the baar'ur, Wad'e on his heels, Shiona ushered Jango into his quarters and eyed him like he was a wayward child.

"You look like osik." She said with a look of concern, though thankfully she knew to keep her hands to herself and didn't offer to help him take off his armor. "Take a shower, have a nap, and comm me when you get up." She ordered, eyes steely.

He rubbed at his brow in consternation. "Make sure An'ika eats something and rests. I know Wad'e will watch him, but he needs more than a bodyguard." It was another reason the man had chosen to stay, though Jango didn't know if Anakin realized it or not. It had certainly been the reason he'd finally sworn to Jango as Mand'alor after almost a year of him living in the compound.

"I'll send Dotis to check in on out little Ven'alor. They're concerned about his… visions." Shiona wrinkled her nose slightly, a small sign of her frustration. None of them liked the idea that Anakin was dealing with these kinds of things alone, and how quick he was to follow whatever the Force told him.

Dotis was doing an excellent job teaching him to to not take his visions at face value, and to differentiate between things that would happen and things that might happen.

"If anything changes, let me know." Either with Roz or Anakin, though he didn't specify.

Shiona gave him a fond look and a soft smile of encouragement he remembered from the days when she had to ride herd on Jaster. "Of course, Alor. Now get some rest. I'll have someone come by in six hours with something to eat if you aren't already up by then." She eyed him once more before finally leaving him alone in his quarters.

Mandalorian mother-henning at its finest.

He let out a small chuckle as he began to remove his armor, carefully laying the pieces out on the table for cleaning and repair. He felt a prickle of nerves with each piece he set down and scowled. Even after killing Montross he still felt as if there was something hanging over him… He shook himself and chalked it up to leftover battle nerves.

After a quick shower he fell into bed with relief. It had been a long, trying, week and he was more than ready for the sweet oblivion of sleep.

It felt like his head had barely hit the pillow and his eyes had closed when he was jolted awake by a knock at his door. Getting out of bed, knife in hand, he went to open the door and relaxed when he saw who was standing there. Kadla held out a tray to him and gave him a polite nod.

"Shiona said to make sure you ate something." Letting out a small snort of amusement he took the tray, grinning when Kadla spied the knife.

"Any news on how An'ika is doing?"

Her helmet lifted slightly and he knew her attention had shifted from the knife to himself. "Shiona said you'd ask; he's with Dotis meditating. Rozatta came out of surgery an hour ago and the baar'ur says she's out of danger. Now it'll just be a month or so of healing and going easy on herself and she should be right as rain."

"You have my thanks." He was about to dismiss her and close the door when he noticed her stiffen and shift on her feet.

"There's one other thing." She said hesitantly.

Jango stopped and gave her a curious look. "Is there a problem?" He really fucking hoped not. He wanted to get at least three more hours of blessed sleep after wolfing down whatever Shiona had thrown together for him.

"We've had word from some of the more secluded groups." Subconsciously the woman reached up and brushed her hand against the stylized hawk-bat sigil on her armor. "They said they would only speak with the Mand'alor and ended the call with an old blessing." Kadla lifted her chin proudly. "This is the Way."

Oh… Oh. Well fuck. That sounded like one of the old coverts Jaster had been in talks with before shit hit the fan. If they wanted to talk now they must have realized something big was going to happen soon… which meant they had eyes and ears in his compound.

Although the thought sent a shiver of wariness down his spine he knew that both Partra and Kadla were loyal. They had sworn themselves to his service in the old way, an oath that was nigh impossible to break.

"I'll look into it as soon as I have a free moment." He swore. "I respect those who follow the Way and would be happy to have them as allies." He said honestly. The covert mando'ade might have some odd quirks but they were all highly skilled and followed the Resol'nare. Which was good enough for him.

"Of course, Alor. Rest well." She thumped her fist against her chest and bowed her head for a moment before heading off.

Jango closed the door behind him and scrubbed at his hair for a moment before sitting down at his work table with his meal.

This wasn't quite what he'd been expecting when he'd first returned, young son by his side. After all his years away it seemed like the people of Manda'yaim had finally begun to understand what backing Kryze or Vizsla over Jaster or himself really meant.

Ostracization, disunity, and the destruction of everything that made them Mando'ade in the first place. While Vizsla aimed for their bloody crusade, kidnapping and torturing children, Kryze was selling all of their precious beskar off planet or using it to make her pretty glass domes in the middle of the desert.

It was all a waste. A waste of lives, a waste of resources, and the two just kept feeding off of each other, pushing themselves further into their own ideology as the things that made them Mando'ade were blindly destroyed.

All Jaster had wanted was peace and understanding. Not the kind of peace Kryze toted, the kind where you just lay down and let those close to you die for no good reason. But the peace to learn and grown, to fight if you wanted to.

Jango looked at his armor and wondered, for the first time in years, if he should change his colors. He'd left it mostly bare, a sign of mourning and seeking redemption he never thought he'd receive. But now… now he had purpose again.

Pulling out his comm he called down to the quartermaster. "It's Fett." He said when they answered. "I'd like to pick up some paint."

Mando'a;

Ba'vodu- Aunt, Uncle, sibling of a parent.
Baar'ur- Medic.
Osik- Shit, damn.
Ven'alor- Future leader, heir.
Alor- Leader.
Resol'nare- The Six Actions, the core tenets of Mandalorian life.
Mando'ade- Mandalorians.
Manda'yaim- The planet Mandalore.