Vercopase were strange things. A person could go through something, even a traumatic or life-altering event, and not see it in their mind for days, only for it to come flooding back with a vengeance when least expected. Din had seen enough- and done enough- in his life that he could count on one hand the number of times in his adulthood that he was awoken by a bad dream. Normally it was Grogu who suffered from night terrors, first after Din rescued him from Nevarro and then later after Ahsoka Tano had tapped into his memories of his past. He could deal with comforting the kid in his distress, even if it meant sleepless nights and near-continuous pacing through the hold of his ship to settle him enough to go back to sleep.
But his own mind betraying him was a different matter altogether.
He was back in the belly of the krayt dragon, but this time there were no explosives, no weapons, no way out. It was hot and humid, and he could feel the acid eating through his kute until it began to burn his skin, but it was the darkness that drove him nearly to panic. It was so dark he couldn't see his hand in front of his face, even with the brightness on his HUD fully turned up. It was the worst darkness he had ever experienced- the complete absence of light that could make even the most hardened warrior go completely insane. The scene suddenly shifted, and now instead of the slimy mucosal lining of the beast's stomach, he was lying on the cold, unforgiving floor of a cell. His body was broken and littered with injuries, making even the smallest movements sheer agony. The darkness followed him here, and this time it was accompanied by a faint presence that could only be described as sheer evil.
The door to the cell swished open, bathing the small room in a dull, sickly, gray glow that made him squint even as weak as it was. He forced himself to look up, ignoring the protests of his abused body, and his blood ran cold at the figure standing before him. It was hard to make out a face, but from the silhouette alone he knew without a doubt that it was the Moff, and he was holding something in his right hand, the left holding a bundle against his chest. The thing in his right hand ignited, shooting out a blade of eerie, white-edged non-light, and he held it an inch away from the form in front of him. A familiar whimper came from the small bundle, wrenching Din's heart and sending him scrambling to his feet only to collapse in a groaning heap on the floor once again. A bone-chilling chuckle came from the Imp, his sneer and Grogu's tear-filled eyes dimly illuminated by the humming blade of the Darksaber for a brief moment longer before he turned and strode from the cell, the door sliding shut behind him and plunging Din back into the darkness.
Din snapped upright in the pre-dawn gloom, his heart racing underneath his cuirass and sweat bathing his face. Bile burned in the back of his throat, and he yanked off his buy'ce and dropped it onto the hay next to him before he could lose the contents of his stomach within its stifling confines. He snatched up the canteen and took several deep swallows of the refreshingly cool water then splashed the rest onto his face. Grogu. A quick glance to his other side reassured him that his son was still beside him, the little green child deeply and peacefully in the throes of sleep. His arm trembled uncontrollably as he reached over and tenderly laid a hand on Grogu, the slight rise and fall of his chest the only thing that calmed Din's own ragged breathing. He was here, alive, and he was safe. Gideon was dead, Mandalore was reclaimed, and they no longer had to hide from those who wanted to use the child for his power.
Grogu stirred but didn't wake, curling further into Din's side, his claws clutching at the cloth body armor under his beskar'gam. He sagged onto the blanket stretched out over the pile of straw and for a long time did nothing but intently watch his little one sleep as if he would disappear at any second, leaving Din alone once again. After a while his breathing fell into the same easy rhythm as Grogu's and finally his heart slowed enough for the panic to ease into a restless tension deep in his gut. If they had been on Nevarro he would have gone for a long run across the lava flats, combining essential conditioning with the release of tension that came with each pounding footfall across the rocky surface. But leaving Grogu here while he took off through the forest was out of the question, so he would settle for what he could do in the barn. The chill early morning air drifting through the open window had long since cooled his face, allowing him to slide the helm back into place as he stood. After checking one last time that the kid was still asleep he climbed onto one of the crates, grabbed onto a beam in the low-hanging rafters, and began pulling himself up in a long series of chin-ups. He quickly and easily fell into the simple rhythm of the exercise, only dropping to the floor and switching to push-ups when his shoulders began to ache- which happened about a dozen reps sooner than only a few years ago. You're turning into an old man, he chastised himself even as he picked up the pace and added the variations of one arm or using the edge of a crate for a different angle.
Completing a full cycle of exercises from his days in the Fighting Corps made the hours leading to sunrise pass quickly, and his mind cleared a little more with each until he barely even remembered the dream that had awakened him. Dropping to the floor from the rafters after scaling his grappling line like a makeshift climbing rope, Din retracted the cable back into his vambrace then checked on Grogu one more time before grabbing the water bucket from beside his jetpack and heading for the well that sat between the house and barn. The sun was just beginning to make an appearance, filling the cloudless horizon with warmth and light. He could hear the sounds of the village beginning to stir all around him- the creaking of a few other wells drawing water for the day, murmured snatches of conversation, and farming supplies being readied for work.
He attached the bucket to the winch and lowered it into the depths, listening for the sound of the vessel contacting water before beginning to haul it up again. From a few yards away he heard a door creak open, and he glanced up to see Omera step out the back door of the hut, a tray once again in hand. She froze as their gazes collided, and Din bit back a chuckle at the surprise written across her face- obviously not expecting him to be awake so soon and certainly not completing so mundane a task as drawing water. She quickly composed her expression, a soft smile replacing the shock as she glided toward him across the grass. He barely noticed the rope slipping through his gloved fingers as he took a step forward to meet her. He halted almost immediately, realizing his error a second too late, and cringed when he heard the bucket splash down at the bottom of the well.
The laughter that came from Omera at his blunder did nothing to keep his ears from turning red. He could only thank the Maker that that inconvenient fact was hidden from her discovery by his buy'ce.
"I'm... sorry; I shouldn't laugh," she gasped out between giggles, covering her mouth with slender fingers and making a visible effort to bring herself under control. She was mostly successful, with the exception of the occasional tremble of her shoulders that told him she wasn't quite finished being amused at his expense.
"I'll remember this next time you do something embarrassing," Din warned dryly but not without a hint of mirth then moved back to the well and began hauling up the rope once again. The bucket made it to the top this time without incident and he unhooked it from the pulley. Grabbing the handle he turned and started back toward the barn, Omera falling into step quickly beside him. The aroma from the food on the tray in her hands wafted toward him, teasing his nose with the smell of the warm spices and something sweet he couldn't quite place mixed into the porridge- just like last time.
"Did you sleep well?" she asked after a moment of silence.
"Well enough." He could feel her frown without even looking at her face, and she stopped in her tracks, planting a fist on her hips and throwing a look of disapproval his way. "
What is that supposed to mean?"
"I'm a bounty hunter. I'm used to resting when I can or going without, so now sleeping through the night just doesn't happen very often." He shrugged as if the fact didn't bother him, and in truth it didn't; his body had long since adjusted to the state of constant deprivation to the point he barely noticed. Dreams being the source of the deprivation, however, was another matter entirely, but telling her about it meant explaining everything that had happened and Din was far from ready to broach the topic.
To Omera's credit, she didn't push the matter and instead followed him up the steps into the barn. Grogu was sitting where Din had left him on the blanket, rubbing sleep from his eyes. He immediately perked up at the sight of Omera- or maybe just the food in her hand- and quickly slipped down from the pile of hay. Din retrieved the basket of berries from the hook on the wall while she set the tray on the table and crossed the room to the kid, crouching down and gently picking him up. "Good morning, little one. Are you ready for your breakfast?" He burbled happily in reply, and she smiled down at him as she carried him to the table. Something constricted inside Din's chest as he watched the interaction between the two: the way she held him as if he was her own child, the look of clear adoration that until that point had been reserved for Din alone. She would be a good mother to Grogu, just as she was to her own daughter.
The thought blindsided him, and he mentally shook himself to refocus his mind. But even after she left to afford him the privacy to eat with his face uncovered, the images of what the future could be weren't so easily dismissed. He could almost envision her by his side, working to rebuild Mandalore, uniting the clans, raising their children together-
He let out a low groan and scrubbed his hand over his face. Maybe it had been a mistake to come here. He thought a place with familiar faces and happy memories would be good for Grogu while Din made his decision- and it was; he simply hadn't counted on his own misguided wants and suppressed desires flaring to life so quickly and dangerously. Of course she didn't belong on Mandalore, any more than he belonged on Sorgan. She had mandokar, without a doubt, and could hold her own in a fight, but she was also gentle and compassionate, well-suited to a peaceful town surrounded by people who knew and loved her. And Winta… She may no longer be the timid child he met three years ago, but she would certainly wilt under the harshness of Mandalorian society. He could not, would not, subject her to that.
His appetite suddenly gone, he shoved his untouched bowl of porridge toward Grogu, who turned to look at him with questioning eyes. "It's fine, buddy; you can have it. I'm not hungry." He reached for his helmet and lifted it to slide it back into place, effectively hiding himself once more behind the physical and emotional shell he had worn for so long, when the sound of a wooden spoon clattering on the tabletop reached his ears, and a second later two small hands tapped against his cheeks. He looked down to see his son standing in front of him, his ears drooped as he attempted to wrap his short arms around Din's neck in a comforting embrace. Of course the kid had sensed the direction of his thoughts; he had been more perceptive than ever to the ebbs and shifts of his father's emotions and feelings since coming back from Skywalker's tutelage. He lowered the helm back to the table and wrapped his hands behind Grogu's back, pulling him close and allowing the child to comfort him again.
There was something special he couldn't describe about sharing an embrace with the kid- whether it was because of his powers or just the unique bond between them, Din could feel the anxiety slowly drain from him until he finally felt like he could breathe again. If he focused closely enough it was almost as if he could hear a tiny voice in the back of his mind, whispering It's going to be okay, over and over again as the sensation of unabashed love wrapped around him. For once Grogu didn't protest or squirm to be let go when he continued to hold him close, instead burrowing his face into the folds of Din's cloak and letting out the occasional purr of contentment. It was amazing how the simple act of sharing an embrace with his son went so far to ease the turbulence of his mind and heart, which felt incredibly clearer a while later when he finally gave Grogu a gentle pat on the back and lowered him back to the table.
He immediately toddled over to the basket of fruit, plucking one out, and held it out toward Din with a string of determined babbling. With a fond smile he humored the kid and slipped the offered berry into his mouth- then pulled an exaggerated face when it turned out to be much more sour than the ones he had eaten the previous day. Grogu chortled in amusement, and he couldn't help but chuckle a bit as well once he choked the fruit down. One day at a time, one step at a time, he told himself. There was time enough to work out his intentions toward Omera later. For now he would focus on his relationship with his ad and getting reacquainted with the rest of the villagers.
A flurry of movement outside caught his eye, and he glanced out the window to see two beat-up hover-wagons creep to a stop at the edge of the circle of huts, two figures climbing out of each a moment later as a small crowd began to form around them. "Well ad'ika, looks like our friends are back. Let's go say hello." He slid his helmet into place, scooped Grogu into his arms, and stepped out of the barn to join the flow of villagers gathering to greet the returning men. He spotted Omera a ways in front of him, arm-in-arm with Pasia and Winta following closely beside. It was foolish, but he couldn't deny the tiny feeling of relief that came over him at not having to face her so soon after their awkward parting in the barn.
Everyone pitched in to help unload the speeders, but Din hung back to wait and see where he was needed. Out of the corner of his eye he saw the redheaded woman break away from Omera and rush toward one of the men, the crate in his hands barely reaching the ground before he swept her into his arms. Dressed in utilitarian, distinctly off-world clothing except for a dark blue scarf covering his head, the man was the only one of the four returners that Din didn't recognize, which meant that he must be the mysterious Jos that Omera had mentioned.
"Mando!" His gaze cut across the crowd at the call of his name, pulling his attention from the aruetti, to see Stoke slipping through the crowd toward him, a bewildered smile on his face as he dragged an equally-surprised Caben behind him. Grogu chirruped and squirmed in Din's arms, suddenly excited to see the awkward pair of brothers-in-law that had first enlisted his help all those years ago. Din held him close, hesitant to let him down amidst so many people, and instead waited for Caben and Stoke to reach them. "Stars, Mando! I never thought we'd be seeing you in these parts again!"
"It was a last-minute trip; we just arrived yesterday." He reached out a gloved hand and clasped forearms in turn with the younger men. "It's good to see you both again."
"Is Cara here with you?" Stoke asked, his gaze scanning the crowd for the former rebel while Caben cooed to Grogu and let the kid's tri-digit grasp latch onto his finger.
"Not this time. She's a ranger for the New Republic now." The question confirmed Din's suspicions from back when Cara had helped train the villagers to defend themselves against the raiders: Stoke had developed something of a crush on the intrepid woman. "But I already promised Omera I'd pass along a message for her to stop in for a visit the next time I talk to her." Din's reassurance brightened Stoke's countenance a bit, though he tried earnestly- and obviously- to control his expressive reaction.
Din half-listened as the pair chattered on, filling him in on some of the things he had missed in his absence, his attention mostly focused on the man talking with Pasia, who was throwing frequent glances in Din's direction as they conversed. He was suddenly struck with the feeling that he had seen the stranger before, and his hand reflexively inched toward his blaster. A moment later Darek, the village elder who had accompanied the men on their supply run, ushered Caben and Stoke away with a fatherly admonition to finish helping unload the wagons, throwing Din a wave of greeting as he went. At the same moment the stranger brushed a kiss against Pasia's cheek and started across the clearing toward them. Even his confident, swaggering gait was familiar, as was his ginger beard. Din's breath stalled in his lungs when the man tugged the scarf from his bald head, tinged pink from a still-healing sunburn, and his expression of disbelief morphed into a familiar devil-may-care grin.
By the Maker…
"Well, look what the loth-cat dragged in. It's been a long time, Brown Eyes."