It's the jolt of the rental ship landing that jerks Cobb awake, rather than the turbulence of entering a planet's atmosphere. A resounding ache sits in his side after the initial agony, and he groans as he raises his head to stretch the kink out of his neck. Even from the back, he can make out the penetrating afternoon sunlight that spears the viewscreen from the right;

They've landed in Boba Fett's hangar. They're back on Tatooine.

Cobb blinks away the remnants of sleep, his eyes slowly adjusting to the brightness that floods the previously dim ship. Rubbing his temples, he takes a moment to gather himself. His battered old body creaks and complains with each movement, reminding him of his limitations, but he pushes the discomfort aside, accepting Zart's assistance in sitting up when the boy appears at his side moments later.

It's quiet enough that when the ship's rumbling engines shut down, it can practically be felt in the very air.

Up in the cockpit, there's a click as Din Djarin undoes his flight restraints and rises from the pilot's seat. His armored form steps into the doorway, blocking the light, helmet turning to take in the room and observe their states of awareness. "Sorry about that."

Cobb offers a small huff of weary amusement. "No need to apologize, partner. It's good to be back."

"Your people will be relieved to see you," he says.

"Yeah." He has a few apologies to make once he's stepped foot behind Freetown's borders again, that's for sure; Ann will never let him live this down.

Din steps past him, crossing the rear of the ship to the hatch. His fingers flip a switch halfway up the wall, and the ramp jerks alive. With a steadying breath, Cobb pushes himself up from the seat, doing his best not to use the wall for support. Zart and Trala gather behind him as he falls in line at Din's side, watching the suns' light filter across the opening. The ramp beneath their feet shudders and groans as it extends outward, casting a long shadow across the floor of Boba Fett's hangar.

A gust of hot desert air rushes into the ship, filling the cabin with the familiar stale scent of Tatooine. If they'd been uncertain of their whereabouts, the environment's cleansing them away itself; Cobb Vanth is home at last.

"Well, wouldja look at that! Not a scratch on 'er!" A happy voice chirps from below, just out of view.

Din cringes, and reluctantly heads down to meet it.

Cobb doesn't see any sense in waiting. As he follows Din down the ramp, his worn boots scuffing against the metal, he takes in the sight of the hangar- and, stars, is it a mess. The vast expanse of the space is filled with ships of all sizes and shapes, a large handful in various states of repair. The scent of oil and metal hangs heavy in the air, mingling with the ever-present desert stench that many-a-folk drag into their beds every night.

And the happy voice, of course, belongs to one Peli Motto. She stands a few feet from the ship with all her dignity- graying curls, oil-stained coveralls, and all. Apparently she'd managed to wrangle Fett into bringing her on as a contractor sometime during Cobb's absence. Her eyes scan their motley crew until they land on Cobb, and she grins. "Well, look who's finally decided to grace us with his presence!"

Cobb can't help but chuckle. "Good to see you, too, Peli. Looks like you've been keepin' busy."

"Well, someone's gotta keep this place running smoothly," She shrugs mischievously. "Can't have Fett thinkin' he's got it all figured out."

He hums his approval with the sideways tilt of his head, nodding to Din beside him. It's clear now just exactly who the Mandalorian's mechanic is; he should've known, really. Peli's the only one around with semi-affordable rates. "I reckon I'll leave the two of you to it."

The two of them follow his gaze, Din reluctantly grunting his agreement- he must owe Peli quite the sum if he'd rented a whole ship from her.

"C'mon," Cobb murmurs, waving for Zart and Trala to join him.

As he leads his companions away from the pair, their steps echo through the hangar. The lightness in his chest begins to ebb with the sound, with the sensation of solid ground beneath his feet- Cobb won't be the first man to admit that there's a certain comfort to living on the shifting desert sands as opposed to that of more industrial districts; that was one of the many things he had loathed about Corellia, other similarities to Tatooine aside.

I'm home, he reminds himself. Mostly. Almost.

Close enough.

It's as they're reaching the hangar's center that the doors on the far end slide open with that haunting hydraulic hiss. And who would step in to greet them but the Daimyo himself?

Cobb finds that his lopsided smirk returns, then- because, stars above, look at all that has happened in the past couple of years. If it weren't for the man before him- if it weren't for him and the lithe assassin slipping through the doorway behind him- either Bib Fortuna or Jabba the Hutt would still be in control of the planet, and Cobb would've been a dead man the moment Cad Bane had shot him.

They meet halfway, Daimyo and his right hand drawing to a halt just as Cobb and his entourage do the same. Without his helmet to obscure his expression, Boba Fett smiles, and reaches out to clasp arms with him. "Marshal Vanth, it's good to see you back on Tatooine. And to your companions: Welcome to your new home.

"You all must be tired. Come; let's see what accommodations Atedee can find for you."

Marshal. Cobb inwardly scoffs. Surely, someone's informed the good Daimyo of his retirement by now? But all the same, Cobb doesn't let his gratitude fall when he stretches his arm out to complete the greeting. He's too tired to argue over such trivial things. "Thank you, Daimyo. It's good to be back."

"Miss the sunshine, Bones?" Fennec jibes.

"What, that?" He turns and points at the open end of the hangar. With a grin and a wink, Cobb shakes his head. "Never."

"Liar," she says.

"Okay, maybe a little."

Fett rolls his eyes at them. "Come on, you two. Let's get our new guests settled in. Speaking of which," the man pauses, "I assume you have names. What would you like us to call you?"

Cobb doesn't mean to zone out of the conversation- out of reality. But the familiarity of the palace, coupled with the exhaustion weighing down his limbs, seems to pull him from consciousness and away from time itself. One thing leads to another, and the next thing he knows, it's just him and Fett on their own, trudging across the palace. He blinks as he comes back to himself, looks around, and doesn't ask where the others have gone, where they're going.

The halls are surprisingly empty at what would normally have been a busy hour, Krrsantan and the Mods nowhere to be found. Whether they're off sharing a meal or patrolling the city, Cobb doesn't have the energy to dwell on.

Instead, his gaze latches onto the most colorful object around- Fett's armor. Armor that he had once worn, in what feels like a lifetime ago. That blasted green armor, an oasis in Tatooine's eternal sands. It had brought safety to him and his town in its most desperate hour, oh-so-long ago. Some part of him must've just felt safe enough in its presence to put his mind to rest while his body followed along with the actions and words of those around him.

The thought isn't quite as unnerving as it probably should have been, but Cobb is so fatigued that, clearly, even the rest he'd gotten aboard the rental ship hadn't been enough for him.

It's his boot scuffing the floor that breaks the silence at last.

"Are you back with me, then?" Boba Fett asks, and Cobb jumps at the sound of his voice.

"I- yeah. Sorry," He gets out. "Been a long month."

His companion hums, pausing at the base of a spiral staircase to glance back at him, a foot settling on the first step. "I can only imagine. Even when you were younger, and on familiar territory, that would not have been an easy thing to accomplish. To do so now, and on foreign soil…You are an admirable man, Cobb Vanth."

A huff passes through his lips. "Someone's gotta be. And, clearly, the masses ain't up for it. I've just done what everyone else should be doin'."

"You have given far more to the galaxy's enslaved population than anyone I know," Fett confesses, starting up the staircase. "I hadn't realized just how honorable a man you were before you came out of that bacta tank. I am glad that you were able to survive your encounter with Cad Bane; if there's any man I should look to for advice as Daimyo, it should be you. You know what the people of Tatooine need far better than I ever will."

"What're you gettin' at?"

"Would you be willing to act as an advisor, when called upon?"

Cobb's eyebrows raise so quickly it almost hurts. "Wha…Hmm. Well, ain't that an interestin' proposal." He slows his pace a bit so as not to trip on the steps before him, his clumsy body not mixing well with this much thought. "If I can stay put in Freetown most days, I s'pose there ain't no harm in it," he decides.

"I would never part you from your people without cause," Fett promises. "Unless there were to be another Syndicate to try their hand at taking Tatooine, you may remain in Freetown as you please."

"I'll do it."

He can hear the smile in the Daimyo's voice. "I knew you would."

There's a companionable silence between them as they continue to ascend the stairs, the air growing cooler and more open than that of the halls below them. It's only then that Cobb recognizes the path they're on as the one to the room with the bacta pod he'd woken up in most of a year ago. His heart sinks at the news he had awoken to, and further so as his memories take him back to his last conversation with Tuk.

"Your arm's shot, Marshal. I might be able to make a few adjustments to lessen the tremors- and the pain- but until you know for sure, all I can give you is time."

Cobb's foot catches on the edge of a step, causing him to stumble.

The world around him blurs for a moment as his body lurches forward, his heart pounding against his chest. His hands instinctively reach out, groping for something to steady himself. He catches himself just in time, his hands finding purchase on the cold metal railing beside him. His heart races as he struggles to catch his breath. He can feel the sweat forming on his forehead, and he can't tell if it's from the heat of the palace or the sudden rush of adrenaline.

Ahead, Fett stops and turns to look back at him, concern etched into his scarred face. "Are you alright?" he asks.

He nods, though his voice comes out as a croak. "Yeah, I'm fine. Jus'...tired."

The other man does nothing. He doesn't move, he doesn't speak, he just…waits. Empathetic brown eyes watch over him as he draws air back into his lungs, as he works to pull himself back together. Cobb Vanth isn't quite the unshakable man he had once been.

Cobb takes a few more deep breaths, willing his racing heart to even out. The adrenaline slowly subsides, leaving his mind a cloudy haze. He releases his grip on the railing and does what he can to straighten his battered self, trying to regain some semblance of composure. He has been tired before- dead tired, even, but this is something else entirely. His side, that blasted stab wound, it must be infected. With Corellia's awful conditions, he can't say he's surprised.

"Let's go," he says.

And the Daimyo accepts his utterance with ease, waiting for Cobb to step up alongside him to place a gentle guiding hand on his shoulder. They take the final steps in a last moment of silence, emerging out into the top of the rotunda.

A fresh draft of desert air comes in through the open windows on the far side of the room, behind the bacta pod. Cobb has to squint against the light; Corellia's single sun could never match the power of Tatooine's twins. But despite his anxiety toward the pod, and the resurfacing memories in his gut, something eases in him now that he has a true glimpse of his planet beyond the thick sandstone walls below.

Fett's hand slips from his arm a few meters into the room, and Cobb's eyes follow the man as he starts digging through a box set on one of the nearest benches. A vague gesture at another offers his legs' salvation-

"I'm fine."

"Din told me that you would say that." The warrior grunts, reluctantly tearing himself away from his task to grab Cobb by the shoulders and drag him over to the specified seating regardless of his protests. He flicks a finger at Cobb's nose as if he were a misbehaving massiff pup. "Sit." He turns back to digging through his box, as if uninterrupted. "But he and I both know you better than to believe every word you say. Look at yourself, Vanth."

Cobb frowns at the small mirror that's shoved into his grasp. "Is this really necessary?"

Fett sighs. "Why is everyone around here so stubborn?"

"You were a fine deputy, Scott, but you should've listened to me. Shoulda kept inside like I told you to…Not that I would've listened either, had it been the other way around. Guess that's what makes folks like us good at the job. Too damn stubborn to quit."

In the blink of an eye, Fett's grabbed his arm and raised the mirror up for him. Bloodshot, sunken hazel eyes meet Cobb's own. Below that, matted with the same grime that covers the rest of him, a bushy silver beard that's longer than he remembers.

He doesn't recognize himself.

"If you carry on like this, you will die," Boba Fett all but growls into his ear, releasing the hold he has on Cobb's arm. "I've seen it before."

The breathless laugh that escapes him is devoid of mirth. "I didn't come here for a lecture."

"I don't care. If you keep trying to fight me on it, I'll put you in the bacta pod myself." A promise and a threat wrapped up in one. Cobb shudders. He knows the man beside him well enough to know he'd follow through with it, too.

"I think I'll pass on that."

"I thought so."

A long, quiet minute passes by as Fett shuffles through his medical gear. For Cobb, it's almost as if a switch has flipped. Now that he's gotten a glimpse of himself, he finds himself raising the mirror to stare at his reflection longer. It was one thing, seeing his ribs through his skin when he had patched himself up after abolishing the remainders of Zerem's operation, but it's a whole different one to look at the way his skin stretches over his cheekbones. It's a different thing to look at the bags under his eyes and realize just how dark they've become. It's a different thing to know that just a single punch could pull the world right out from beneath his raw foot-bottoms.

He looks so, so much worse than the day he had left for Corellia. Cobb doesn't know how he survived it, not with all the abuse he had put himself through, not with the amount of blood he had lost on that Force-forsaken planet.

Cobb Vanth, by all means, should be dead.

But he's not.

In that moment, and he thinks the man next to him can feel the change, something shifts deep inside of him. He wants to live. Beyond his promise to Ann, he wants to live.

He always had- back when he was an enslaved orphan with a bloodied cheekbone and a fresh brand between his shoulders, back when he carved his tracking ship out of his own skull, back when he gathered up everyone he could and ran off into the desert. Back when the Red Key invaded Mos Pelgo. Back when he made the deal with Din Djarin that brought Freetown back from the brink of extinction.

He knows what he has to do, now.

"I can see the gears turning in there, Vanth," Fett rumbles. "Don't try to deny it."

Cobb huffs a laugh. Because knowing what he needs to do, knowing how to recover from everything that's happened and move on…he hasn't felt this good in a long time. "I went by the parlor, b'fore I left planetside. Spoke to Tuk," he confesses. "The arm, he…uh, he wants to cut the whole thing off. Says it's killin' me."

"And what do you think?" Boba Fett speaks slowly, tone more unreadable than ever before, almost as if worried Cobb might be luring him into choosing for him.

The spasm of his arm, the accompanying pain that shoots up into his chest, it's all the answer Cobb would've needed if he hadn't already made up his mind. He glances up, toward the Daimyo, and finally lets himself sound as tired as he feels. "I think he's right."

"Then go to him," the man says, and Cobb knows at once that he will.

Few words are exchanged after that. Cobb doesn't fight as Fett forces him to strip to his underclothes and reveal the bruises and cuts that litter his body, the jagged edges of his skin where he had been stabbed, the blaster burns engraved into his left leg…

And all the while, his caretaker doesn't comment on any of it, aside from pointing out that his side's infected- But Cobb already knew that. It should've begun to scab over by now, but instead, the edges are red and raw and oozing a foul-smelling pus. The bandages he had removed were more the color of his old shirt than their original white.

With a steady hand, Fett slathers the worst of his wounds with bacta and disinfectants. It stings more than the bitterest liquor Cobb's ever had. But he knows the necessity of it, and he does his best to keep his squirming to himself as the Daimyo works. He grits his teeth when he has to, swears when his jaw starts to ache, and breathes through it all.

Soon, the air smells more chemically sweet than coppery, and fresh bandages are being wound across him.

Bile burns his throat when he can no longer hold it back.

.

He comes to only a short while later, weak and tired, but content. There's something pumping through his blood, bringing life and alleviation to his battered form. He almost lets sleep take him back, but the distant curiosity that nags at the back of his mind has always been a tad too strong for his own good.

Cobb finds an IV line attached to a numb wrist, his body siphoning medicine from the bag on the other end of it. It doesn't make him jolt as much as he'd have expected, and it's only later that he realizes it's because he's just glad he didn't wake up in the tank this time. Breathing feels easier than it last had, whatever it is that runs through his ropey veins silencing his many aches and pains.

A soft exhalation not far away stirs him into motion, and he turns his head from where he's been laid to face Boba Fett. The Daimyo's weary smile mirrors the one that Cobb's forgotten how to make. "And how are you feeling now, Vanth?"

"...Better," Cobb says, because he doesn't know how to say that he hasn't felt this well in months.

Something in his gentle, dark eyes acknowledges those unsaid words, and Fett seems to deflate a bit. "Good. Are you hungry?"

With the question in the air and his body no longer in pain, the tremors in his gut stand out more than ever before. He's never willingly gone without a proper meal for so long before all this. There are many people to blame for that mistake, but nearly all of them are dead, save for himself. Cobb swallows his emotions and shrugs, offering the rogue flash of his teeth. "We both know you ain't givin' me a choice."

The rumbling laugh that follows warms the rapidly-cooling evening air. A serving droid is sent to relay dinner orders to Fennec.

Now that the more pressing conversation has come to pass, Cobb and Fett talk of lighter things. Well. Perhaps they should be called less urgent matters, for Din Djarin's plan to retake the decimated Mandalore is no laughing matter in of itself.

Apparently, the Mandalorian had recently discovered that the glassed planet hadn't been quite as ruined as the galaxy has been led to believe. It may be a long time before Din returns to Tatooine; this is his last stop before he is to gather what remains of his people and set the expedition into motion- a fool's errand, the Daimyo claims.

"An' you ain't gonna help him," Cobb realizes, deep into the conversation.

Boba Fett shakes his head. "No. While I do have a moral code, Din's ways are not my own. That life is one I was never part of, one that I could never fit in.

"My own father was once a Mandalorian," he offers in continuation. "And even though he had given up that mantle long before my creation, he taught its importance to me, among other things. It is because of that, and my own experiences, that I know the value of honor."

"Like the Tuskens that saved you." It's not a question.

"Yes." Fett nods. "Like the Tuskens."

All the same, no matter the Daimyo's opinion on the issue,the departure of their friend is soothed slightly by the hope of another culture's recovery after the Empire. It's an opportunity that so many will never get the chance to have.

It falls quiet once the Mandalore talk has passed. Cobb, propped up on the makeshift cot he'd been placed upon, watches as the second sun sets and the light beyond the windows begins to fade. Fett tidies up the mess he had made treating Cobb's wounds, and then sets upon drawing the curtains to block some of the gathering wind. The chill will begin to creep in, soon enough, and Cobb will have to layer up once more; whatever mixture of bacta and antibiotics that's being pumped into him, it doesn't induce heat.

The room is plunged into a brief darkness before the light strips embedded into the corners of the room spring to life- just as a sudden voice from the doorway announces Fennec's delayed arrival. The assassin, if not for her fierce looks, could have looked like a waitress with the way she balances a plate on each of her hands. Behind her is the serving droid, a third plate settled upon the flat top of its head.

"What took you so long?" Fett grouses at them.

"The kitchen droids had already powered down for the night," Fennec deadpans. "They weren't too happy about being reactivated so soon."

She stoops to offer Cobb a plate as she passes by, and mischievously approaches the Daimyo with the other, only to slide away from him and claim it as her own. The scarred warrior rolls his eyes and accepts the final plate from the astromech once it's reached him, gently ordering it to tuck itself away and shut down until he calls upon it again.

Cobb takes a moment to savor the aroma wafting from his plate as he watches the pair engage in their usual banter. The familiarity between them brings him a sense of comfort that he hadn't even felt when the stoic Din Djarin had arrived to return him here. This…the scene playing out before him…it's the healthiest, most lively and normal thing he's seen since before a doomed Bray Ealdel returned to Tatooine with orders to kill him.

When Cobb smiles this time, it's the most genuine one he's formed in months. It wasn't just killing Zerem he had needed to fully find his peace, it was accepting what Tuk had tried to tell him before he'd left. Cobb had been in need of a reality check- and leaving the planet, changing his routines to lead another slave revolt, and nearly dying several times through it all had been it. He hasn't felt more like himself in a very long time, and it shows loud and clear despite his haggard looks.

"Quit grinning and eat," Fennec sulks good-humoredly, as she loses whatever debate he hadn't been listening to.

Cobb laughs and obediently digs into his plate.

The room smells of roasted nerf steak, mingled with the tangy spices of the accompanying vegetables. Between that and the merry atmosphere hanging over their heads, he almost feels warm amidst the young evening's chill. Tonight, eating doesn't hurt. Tonight, everything is right on Tatooine.

Tonight, Cobb Vanth finally thinks he's going to be just fine.

It doesn't really hit him until he sees Freetown on the horizon two sunsets later. The journey back has been long, with each bi-hour revealing more of the wear and tear on his tired body. The once vibrant colors of the desert landscape have faded into a dusty haze, mirroring the state of his mind. But as he sits up straighter beside Din in the speeder, squinting against the harsh glare of Tatooine's twin suns, something stirs within him. A wave of relief so strong washes over him that it nearly brings tears to his old eyes.

The speeder glides smoothly over the sandy terrain, its engine purring as it carries Cobb and the others closer to their destination. The wind tugs at their faces, carrying with it the familiar scent of Tatooine's desert air, and the landscape stretches out before them, vast and desolate. But to Cobb, it holds a certain beauty that only those who call this barren planet home can truly appreciate.

"Is that it?" Zart asks from somewhere behind him, a strain in his voice from the angle at which he's stretched himself to.

"It damn well is," Cobb tells him when he glances up, the bump on the horizon beginning to take shape and make itself known to them; Freetown isn't a place often found by accident- a man has to know where it is to find it.

And here it is.

Home.

The closer they grow to the town, the more defined its figure becomes. He can see the miners' banthas tied down along the backside of their homes, resting and milling about. He can see the shapes of the rooftops, the round and the flat, can recognize each building from behind. Cobb Vanth could walk this town a hundred times over in his sleep, and more.

The vast expanse of sand between them feels too long in the final minutes of their journey, unhelped by the way the speeder's elongated shadow stretches out several yards ahead of the vehicle itself.

All the same, that time goes by in the blink of an eye. They're approaching the outskirts soon enough.

The speeder begins to slow down as they close in, allowing Cobb to take in the details. The buildings, weathered and worn as they are, stand as a testament to the resilience of its people. While the scorching suns have left their mark, painting the walls with shades of brown and ochre, each and every one of them stands as tall as it had the day it was built. Cobb's heart swells as he takes it all in; a couple of times, he had wondered if he'd ever live to return here. And he had only been gone a month.

Din guides the speeder into a gentle halt at the end of the street, and Cobb finally sets foot back onto the very ground that he had long-since dedicated his life to protect. He stumbles on his bad leg. Din steadies him, then pivots to help Zart and Trala from the transport.

And, then, just down the road, two figures emerge from the cantina. The taller of the two turns, lays eyes upon him, and lights up with a gasp. Ann.

For a moment, time stands still. He and Ann stare at each other in mutual surprise. Jo takes notice of her sister's sudden pause and grins at the sight of him, prompting a rather confused Taanti to step out to join them, though he settles down at once. Then, Ann's lips move and his name echoes across the sand back to him.

Cobb's lips twitch. "Hey."

He's barely managed half a dozen steps forward by the time she collides with him.

Their reunion is nothing short of a violent clash of emotions. Cobb wraps his arms around Ann, and pulls her so close that it hurts every skinny inch of him. He breathes in the familiar scent of her, a fragrance of dry sand and rich flora incense, and he wonders why he ever left when he could have never come home to this. When he could have never come home to her.

"Hey," he murmurs again, because words could never describe how happy he is to see her again, to hold her again, because he could have died and he didn't, and-

"You're back." Oh, did he miss her voice.

"I told you I would be," he mumbles into her hair. Cobb's always kept his promises. Especially the ones he's made to her. And he wasn't about to start breaking them, not even the moment he had decided to go after Zerem. He's done well. He's back, in her arms, and- Oh. He frees up one arm and turns to face the rest of his entourage. "Even picked up a couple'a strays."

"You do have a knack for that," Ann hums into his chest with a smile, glancing up as Din moves to introduce the pair.

"This is Zart, and Trala," The Mandalorian gestures, though his words are more for Taanti than anyone else. "Marshal Vanth freed them on Corellia, and they came here with him. Do you have room for them?"

"Of course," The barkeep boasts. "Our doors are always open to folks like you. I've got a spare room at the cantina that you can stay in until we've got something new built. Shouldn't be more than a month...Unless you'd rather stay with the Marshal, of course. He could use the company."

Cobb's lips curl at the jab. "Hey. You don't know what you're sayin', Taanti." He turns his attention to his anxious pair of newcomers. "But, you are welcome to stay with me, if you'd like. Whatever you want, we'll give it to ya. Nobody's gonna hurt you here," he promises. "You're family, now. Mine- an' theirs. This is your home now, too."

"Thank you."

Just two small words.

But in her eyes, Cobb can see Trala's true heart. Like Zart's, it's a mirror of his own.

There aren't any words to respond to something so deep, so meaningful. Instead, Cobb gives a single nod and a small smile. He knows that his own eyes relay his thoughts to her- and even if they don't, she knows what's not being spoken.

There's a certain language between people like them, a language of souls that connects each and every enslaved being in the galaxy.

He comes back to himself as something moves in his peripheral, and when he turns his head he finds that it's Ann mouthing something to Din beneath Jo's chatter as she pokes around at getting to know Zart. Cobb's not quite sure what she tells the Mandalorian, but his silver helmet dips in a nod, the sunset reflecting off of his armor plates as he passes through the group toward the cantina.

Once Din has passed through the doorway, Ann squeezes Cobb's arm to draw his attention back to her. "Are you alright?"

"Leg's a little shot up, but she won't need any replacements," he assures her, remembering their first conversation after his return from his shoulder replacement operation. A weary smile works its way onto his lips as he remembers all that's happened since then. "I got 'im, Ann. I finally got 'im."

"No more bounty hunters?" She asks.

He grins. "No more bounty hunters. What happens next is up to us."

Another page, another chapter- no, another part- the climax of his life seals with those words, years of blood and gore solidifying as part of the past. It finally feels real. The rest of his life can finally begin. He can finally live, as many have and so many others had been so cruelly deprived off. And that starts now. Cobb Vanth is free, for good, and nothing could ever change that.

He leans in, then, and presses his lips gently against Ann's forehead. After all these years…

It's real.

A heavy set of footsteps sounds, and Din Djarin follows the sound out of the saloon and back onto the boardwalk, a groggy-looking Grogu perched on his hip. "Thank you for watching him," he says to Ann. Then, he dips his head to Cobb. "Marshal."

Marshal, huh? Cobb thinks, sighing to himself. The Mandalorian knows he stepped down. Not letting go of Ann, he turns to face him fully, shaking his head with that ever-so-rueful grin- he supposes that he never had given the man permission to call him by his first name- but, then again, who'd have thought that one of their closest friends would need permission to? "Din, partner, we're far past formalities. All the shit you've done for me…Ah, let's face it: You're probably one of the only reasons I'm still alive. You've more than earned the right to call me by my name, so long as you're comfortable with it."

"Cobb," Din says after a long moment, tilting his helmeted head thoughtfully. And there it is, the air of finality- this is where they part ways. "...Stay out of trouble."

"No promises, partner. Y'know me- seem to be a magnet for it." His smile both softens and widens, and it comes easier than the last. "But," he adds, raising a finger at the sensation of eyes drilling into the side of his head, "If I need a hand, I'll make sure to call on you."

And that pledge seems enough for the Mandalorian, who bows his head in acceptance of it. One of the suns has begun sinking past the horizon; the day is at its end. It's time for Din Djarin to leave Tatooine, perhaps for good. There aren't any right words to convey Cobb's farewells to him.

For a moment, there's a weight hanging over them, leaden with unspoken words, a mixture of gratitude, respect, and the bittersweet realization that their paths may never cross again. They're right back where they were after the krayt dragon, with so much more between them. They are brothers, he and Din. Perhaps in another universe, they'd never have parted. But, alas, this galaxy is a cruel one, and one in a new bright age of reformation. And for Din to help it return to what it had once been, he must leave.

Cobb understands that, better than most. And so, he steps forward to extend his arm, settling on a direct, "Good luck with Mandalore, Din."

It's not so much a handshake as it is one last grasp at connection. The seconds tick by long and quiet and forlorn, and then his friend is pulling him in to rest the crest of his visor against Cobb's forehead in a gesture he's never seen and already knows the meaning of. This closeness between them, it's not one-sided. Not by a long shot.

"Aliit ori'shya tal'din. Ni kar'tayli gar darasuum. Thank you, Cobb," Din finally responds, as if he's found some long-lost part of himself by helping him over these past months. "For everything."

And he understands that, too. "Don't mention it."

"Take care of yourself," the other man offers with his parting.

With a crooked smile, Cobb says, "I'll be seein' you, Mando," and hopes it's true.

.

He watches the speeder until it's so far gone that it's merged with the horizon plane, and then some. Cobb follows Ann back to her house and greets Tenn, and- and, yes, he is certainly home now. He watches Ann put her son to bed, and quietly slips out to retreat to his own dwelling to put his gear away properly. It's like he never left.

He eats and freshens himself up, and finally changes his clothes to something that doesn't reek of blood and grime, and then he's out the door again, his feet leading him out to Issa-Or's.

As sole Marshal, the Twi'lek has left her own door open to the town, inviting them in to voice their concerns and ask for advice on matters of trade and work. He had done the same, before he had stepped down, and it brings warmth to his weary heart to see his fellow law-person keeping up with his old routines in his place.

Cobb Vanth climbs up onto the boardwalk and brings himself to a halt in the doorframe, half-in half-out of her home, watching from behind as she speaks with her grown nephew.

"Looks like you've kept things tidy 'round here, Marshal," he greets, crossing his arms lightly over himself.

"Cobb Vanth, it feels wrong to hear y'call anyone else Marshal," the woman remarks even before she turns around to lay her eyes upon him. She looks pleased to see him. "I was wondering when you'd return."

Beside her, Auch'it-Or grins. "Chowbaso bata, Uncle."

"Might say the same to you, kid. You weren't here when I left." But he smiles anyway, because it has been quite a while since he's seen the young Twi'lek. If the man's sticking around for the long haul, there'll be no complaints on his end. "Don't you worry, I'm here to stay."

And Cobb means it, now more than ever. Unless it's urgent, he doesn't plan on leaving Freetown anytime soon. Never again.

"Where do you need me?"

1. "Aliit ori'shya tal'din. Ni kar'tayli gar darasuum." - "Family is more than blood. I will know you forever." (Mando'a)

2. "Chowbaso bata." - "Welcome back" (Huttese)