It takes a couple of days to get all of Issa's stuff down and put away in one of the few empty homes down the road. Cobb does his best to help her, around his own duties.

On the third day, he has her accompany him. She's familiar with Freetown- and them with her- knows how most things work out here, but he still has a few tips and tricks to show her, a few routines to introduce her to. He finds that, despite his recommendation, he's glad she didn't agree to be mayor of Mos Espa. The people trust her, and they're adjusting well to the sudden shifting of authority.

They spend most of the week splitting responsibilities, and it's not long before Issa is offering him suggestions where he'd never considered improving things. He knew that bringing her on would be a good idea. Still, he can't help but be the tiniest bit skeptical when she proposes setting up some wireless holocams around the town's borders.

"For a town as small as yours, you sure get a lot of unfriendly visitors." She points out, and he reluctantly gives in. She's not wrong. Not at all.

So, he helps her set up the cameras. Links them to a console that she throws together in the main room of her home. It's odd, seeing the boundaries of the land from inside one small building. Makes him feel like an outsider looking in. But if Issa truly thinks it'll work…

He trusts her judgment. Better than his own.

Cobb helps her thrice days more, and then sets her loose, watches from the sidelines and offers pointers where she needs it. They're few and far between, however, and he finds his guidance called upon less and less. He's never had so much time on his hands before, and he's yet to figure out what to do with it all. Retirement is a foreign thing to a man who's worked all his life.

He takes to helping Ann with her own chores before the second week is up. A lot of it is cleaning and cooking and sweeping sand out the door, but he doesn't mind. It gives him something to do with himself, and it lets him spend more time with her. There's something refreshing about it all- soothing, almost.

His health continues to worsen, and one day a wave of dizziness so powerful comes over him that he nearly falls over. Ann makes him lay down in the spare room, refusing to allow him to help her until he's rested.

"A third of the town's older than me, an' they're in better health." He grumbles.

Her eyes are kind when she pats his arm, her voice fond. "Well, they never run headfirst into danger like you do."

He has to admit that she does raise a good point; Cobb is so reckless at times that it's a wonder he's alive at all. He has Boba Fett to thank for that, he knows, and he'll never forget it. He takes things a bit slower the next day.

But no matter what he does, there's an itch at the back of his mind that won't go away, and he sometimes finds himself staring at the holoprojection image of his old master that Bray had brought along with him those months ago. The damn thing is calling to him, taunting him- mocking him.

He tries to ignore it.

Ignoring it doesn't work.

"You're looking a little rough around the edges." Boba Fett remarks once Cobb's stopped before the palace throne.

He takes in the sandblasted green armor and shrugs, making no move to defend himself. "Ain't lookin' so hot yourself, there, partner."

There's a small group of Mods gathered behind him at the back of the room, and one of them whistles as the others suck in their breath; he reckons that the only person most of them have seen talk to the Daimyo this way has been Fennec. They've no idea whether they should laugh along or back their boss like the loyal folk they are.

A tense moment goes by before Cobb lets his expression shift into a grin and Fett laughs with mirth, stepping down from the throne with an outstretched hand. "It's good to see you, Vanth." He says. "It is always a pleasure to have you here."

Cobb clasps the offered hand, and blinks when it ends up being a warrior's grasp instead of a handshake. He just about freezes altogether when it turns into a hug. But it's over as soon as he's been pulled into it, and he huffs at the friendly gaze that meets his. "The pleasure's mine."

"And how are things in Freetown these days?" Fett asks.

He takes a minute to think about it, humming thoughtfully before he settles on,"Quiet, at last."

Marshal Cobb Vanth officially hands over his stripes forty-eight hours before Din Djarin comes to town. The people make a public event out of it, and a celebration follows. There isn't a single person absent, and so many come up to him directly. To thank him for his decades of protection, for his unyielding devotion to them both wholly and individually. But, mostly, they thank him for liberating them all those years ago. So much time has gone by, and they've not forgotten it; they never will.

He drinks a little too much, and he feels empty the next morning. I'm one of them, now. And isn't that a strange feeling?

Cobb spends the day recovering from the hangover, and then he meets with Ann and Jo for dinner at the older sister's place. He finds that he much prefers it to the spectacle the rest of the townsfolk had put on the night before, even if he has to put up with Jo's persistent teasing regarding his feelings for Ann. He's never denied it, though, and he won't start now. Not even when her son chooses to sit next to him; he's always loved their family like his own- and that won't ever change, either.

Even as the suns claim his old life with their next setting, he keeps his blaster at his side. Never know when he'll need it again. His name's still too big out in the wide world of Tatooine, and he's not willing to be caught off guard.

His people keep calling him Marshal. It feels wrong.

But his name sounds just as foreign from their lips, so he lets them continue with it anyway.

Most of them, that is- he makes sure to correct the kids. He doesn't want them forgetting who the real figure of authority is in these parts, and it wouldn't be fair to Issa to train them to call someone else by a title rightfully hers. Her reign will be their future, their livelihoods, and he wants to do his best to reinforce that thought upon them. His time has passed, and the mantle has been handed over to another.

Cobb thinks he might truly be okay with that. His body certainly is.

.

He doesn't see the ship's approach, deep under his speeder as he often seems to be when the Mandalorian swings by, but he doesn't need to. Cobb recognizes the whine of the starfighter's engines immediately. He's heard the thing come and go a couple times, now, and no one else is going to fly in like that; they've known each other for the better part of a year, and Fett's yet to visit- but he's a busy man, fixing a planet done centuries wrong, and Cobb can let him off the hook for that one.

After a moment's consideration, he settles on staying put. Because Din knows where to find him, and the podracer won't finish replacing its worn parts for him. He's got nowhere to be, not today. So long as Din doesn't drag him off somewhere, that is.

He twists a cable out of the way so that he can pop a part back into place above it. It leaps back into its previous position when he lets his hands fall away. Cobb hums to himself and lays back in the sand. It used to be easier to throw himself under a broken-down speeder. Now, the pain in his back makes him question a great many things.

"Hey." He says to the nearing footsteps that pack down the golden grains. Silver reflects sunlight back at him in response. "Those boots look cleaner than I remember. Did you by chance polish 'em just to come out here an' see me?"

Din Djarin's vocoder catches his amused chuckle. "I cleaned them yesterday. My last job was more...violent than I intended it to be."

"Let a man dream, Mando." Cobb shoots back, and his smirk is in his voice. He moves to pull himself from beneath the podracer, missing the shade before he's even left it. "I don't envy you. That line of work ain't pretty."

"No." He agrees quietly. And then, falteringly: "You gave up your title."

"I did." The words come out easily, all honesty and no bite.

"Why?"

His good shoulder rises in a shrug of its own, and he leans back against the speeder. "It was just time, Din. Nothin' more to it than that. Sometimes, you just know."

Din nods and stays silent for a while after that, observing the street from the front of Cobb's home. A few people wave to them in passing. With the miners out working and most of the children in school, it's a quiet day. The suns aren't high yet, and the air is almost comfortable in temperature.

Give it time, Cobb thinks, and says hello to Grogu when the satchel at Mando's hip shudders awake with a yawn. The child blinks at him with wide eyes. Cobb smiles, and the silence resumes for a time longer. It's nice.

Eventually, after he stands himself, he says,"I'm still a consultant, Mando, don't you worry."

"I'm glad." Din replies. "These people could always do with your expertise. You have led them well."

A small smile rises to his lips, then, and he almost regrets stepping down. "The way I see it, it was more of me servin' them than leadin' 'em, but I did do it well, didn't I?"

Another nod and a small hum of acknowledgement from the man next to him. He seems caught on something, but Cobb's patient enough to let him sort his words through. "You were marshal for a long time. What will you do now?"

He thinks first of Ann. Of what they had been when they were younger, before he freed them all and just after. How he had been so paranoid that he had pushed her away. She had gained another lover, and then had birthed Tenn. But the boy's father is long dead, and each of them has been gravitating more toward the other in the years following the Mining Guild's brief intrusion. Cobb isn't the marshal of the town anymore. His past could still harm her, but there's few new enemies he could make that would come after her. Maybe they could restart, pick up where they left off those decades ago.

But then he remembers the hologram of the Pau'an, of the man who had once called him his property. One of the many things that's been eating at his thoughts over the past several months, one of the many things hindering his movement forward. Cobb can't let it go, he let this monster send his attack dogs after him far too many times. Who's to say it won't happen again?

If he wants to truly settle down and live what years he has left to their fullest, he needs to get this situation sorted. For good. But where would he even start? His past, all of this, it's half a century in the making. And that's just his part in it all.

After a long moment's pondering, Cobb just shakes his head. He doesn't know how to explain any of it to Din. "Not set on anythin' yet, but I have a couple of ideas."

"If you ever need any help..." The Mandalorian carefully offers. "You may have riled the Pyke Syndicate before I asked for your help fighting them, but I still feel responsible for what happened to you. I should have made sure I hadn't been followed."

"I appreciate it, friend, but whatever happens next is my fight." He tells him.

And then, perhaps more earnestly than anything he's ever said before: "No one blames you for Bane slippin' in but you. It's nearly been a year, Din. I've moved on from that, an' you should, too."

It's true enough. What happened then, it's in the past. He has a new fight, and dwelling on what happened that day isn't helping him move forward on that front. And Din Djarin? An elusive bounty hunter like him? He definitely has more pressing matters than what had happened close to nine months ago. Cobb doesn't want to see him killed or hurt on the job because of a regret like that.

It's a bit hypocritical of him to think this way, he knows, but he and Din really should have had this conversation as soon as he woke up in the bacta tank. It would have done wonders for them both. What happened that day is a guilt neither of them should've chosen to shoulder.

No sounds escape from behind the Mandalorian's helmet as his visor turns away, struggling to accept blatant forgiveness in place of anything else.

Cobb lets him brood; he understands better than he'd like to. He's only just accepted everything himself, after all. And he's learned by now that there's no moving forward if the invisible wounds don't heal themselves up- that the stubborn streak their type carries will only tear them open time and time again.

His left hand extends to touch his friend's nearest arm, and he musters up what words of comfort that he can when the helmet is pointed back in his direction. Din had helped him after Cad Bane, and again after Bray. It's his turn to return the favor.

"You're alright, partner, know that. It's good to see you. Always is."

Cobb feels lighter for a few days more, and his shoulder holds steady- just as it should.

He decides that it's about time to figure out what to do about Brarkesh Zerem and his so-called bounty hunters. He's cut his ties and set up the town to be protected without him, now it's time to get done what he never could before. The question is, how?