The next time Din Djarin visits Freetown, the air feels strange. Quiet. Empty. He doesn't understand why until Cobb Vanth doesn't come to greet him. Until he can't find him on his own. It doesn't make sense; the man's always out and about doing something when Din visits. But not this time. No one greets him.

On his way back to the starfighter to retrieve Grogu, he sees Vanth in his mind's eye, the day Din last came to Freetown. Subdued. Distant. Tired and gaunt. His dark, sunken eyes swimming with the weight of unfinished business. The skin around them stretched far too thin over the fragile bones beneath. And the voice that had come from his meatless throat, it had been raspy and more hollow than any Din's heard before. He almost hadn't recognized the man.

"What will you do now?" He asks.

Vanth might as well be a statue up until he shakes his head. "...Not set on anythin' yet, but I have a couple of ideas."

Din wonders what he'd meant by that. If his sudden disappearance has anything to do with it. If it was an act of impulsiveness or if it had been planned. If it had been a mix of both, one last big adventure before he finally settles. Din wonders, suddenly, if it's all one big, elaborate dying act.

Would he do that?

He's struck, for the first time in a long time, with the realization that he doesn't really know Cobb Vanth. He knows who he is, what he stands for, what he stands against. He knows what kind of life he's from, how far he's come. He knows the respect that he holds for those honorable enough to go about earning it the right way. But beneath that? The man behind the front he's always projected?

It isn't Cobb Vanth the man that he knows, but Cobb Vanth the Marshal. And Din is beginning to suspect that they are two completely different things.

Could Vanth have gotten himself killed in the few weeks since their last meeting?

Seems unlikely. The people that he sees don't appear to be in any state of mourning, going about their business like they always are when he's around. Like it's just another day, that his stops are more frequent than they are. And that prompts him to comm Fett, perchance Vanth's up at the palace.

Fett's response is of no help: Cobb Vanth is simply nowhere to be found.

The only thing left to do is to start asking around, to see if the town knows where their wayward ex-Marshal might've gone. The man might have a lot of secrets, but one thing Din does know about him is that he's a talker.

So, with Grogu at his hip once more, Din sets off. He makes his way down the street and asks anyone who's willing to acknowledge his presence. He starts with the toolsmith, who's sitting outside his forge, diligently whittling away at the handle of a new shovel.

"Left b'fore dawn a few weeks back. Haven't heard word of 'im since," says the toolsmith.

Unease gnaws at his gut. He had a feeling that would be the case, that Vanth might've picked himself up and left as soon as he'd hit the road himself. Din nods, utters his thanks, and moves on. "Could you tell me where Vanth is?"

"Might've headed down beyond the Anchorhead Great Chott flats. He's been talkin' about establishin' trade with some of the farmers down there forever."

"I heard he was headed toward Mos Eisley. Must've passed it."

"Bestine. Probably traded places with Marshal-Or."

One of the older townsboys tosses his head and shrugs. "Maybe he finally had the sense to leave this dustball behind. Couldn't blame him."

Din frowns, asks for directions to the mines, and makes the trek out to the ravine Cobb's mentioned to him. He winds his way down to the first tunnel he can see, activates his night vision, and ducks inside. Perhaps one of the miners knows something that the rest of the people don't.

But his luck down there is just as dry as the sand itself.

"Wouldn't surprise me if a slaver got ahold of 'im. Tuskens, maybe. He's not been lookin' great, y'know? Easy pickings. Probably buried b'neath the sands by now." The Dathomirian doesn't hesitate.

His friend hits him.

"What? He's never been away this long."

Din has lost nearly all hope of getting a feasible response by the time he stumbles into the cantina an hour later, Grogu dozing at his side. He nods to the Weequay behind the bar, sighs heavily, and leans on it as soon as he's close enough. Underneath his helmet, sweat streams into his eye, and he takes the beskar off to rub away the sting.

He glances up at Taanti, who tries to pretend he hadn't been staring. "There something I can help you with?"

"Do you know where the Marshal is?" He puffs out, the words heavy and robotic after the number of times he's asked them. Then he remembers and adds- "Vanth."

The bartender shakes his head. "He didn't say. Been real secretive ever since that Bane guy shot him."

Part of Din really wants to drop his forehead against the countertop resting beneath his palms, no matter the pain bound to follow such an act. But he's not quite sure that he really expected an answer, and at this point he's just plain exhausted. "Does anyone know where he is?"

"I know someone who might." A voice says from the doorway, and he turns just in time to see Jo step inside the building. It takes him a moment to recognize the terseness of her voice, and he knows at once that this someone had told her a little too late. But even still, the nod she gives him is more friendly than business, and he rises to follow her upon her request.

If anyone knows, Din thinks, it's her.

They head back outside, into the sunlight, to where the sand crunches beneath their boots no matter how a man could try to silence it. The midday glare blinds him this time, and it's only then that he belatedly realizes that he's left his helmet on Taanti's counter.

It's a realization that doesn't draw as much alarm from him as it would have those many months ago, before he'd gotten more comfortable removing it; he trusts these people with his life. With his life and the protection of his sacred armor. So, he leaves it. Because the nagging thought at the back of his mind won't let him head off without it when the time comes anyway.

Din does his best to let his companion lead as they walk along the road, always keeping a pace or two behind. It's not a long walk, really, the house is almost directly across the street from the cantina, and they're stepping up onto the porch not quite a minute later.

The door is already open- and by Jo's lack of reaction, this is a normal thing- and he follows her through. It's a quaint home, lined with decorations of a light green that almost remind him of the tint of Corvus's morning mists, and Din is immediately at ease where he'd normally have felt an intruder. A small draft drives out the dust in the air, and he's almost in disbelief that the house is real.

He doesn't dare touch anything.

"Hey." Jo hums, bumping his arm with her own, and he blinks. "Stay here for a sec, Mando."

She disappears into what he thinks might be the kitchen, and if he hadn't felt even the slightest sliver of self-consciousness before, he certainly does now. Domestic settings never have ended well for him, he's noticed. Sorgan had proved that.

But he tries not to let it bother him now, and he allows his gaze to drift. To the translucent willowy curtains in place of closed shutters. To the spinach-and-tawny stripes of the round rug occupying the room's center. To the kneeling boy atop of it- to his rich, russet-brown skin and his dark amber eyes.

Din freezes beneath the curious stare. He jumps at the suddenness of Grogu's chirp, and glances down to the child at his hip. "Do you…want to play?"

Those long ears of his raise in interest, and Din lowers him to the floor.

And they seem to get along just fine, judging by the enthusiasm of their greetings. Din watches the human offer one of his wood-carved toys with a smile on his face, and his concern follows the airstream back out beneath the suns. It's good- soothing, one might say- to see Grogu interact with another child; their way of life hasn't given him nearly enough opportunity to do so as a being his age should.

He doesn't know what draws his attention to the muffled voices in the kitchen, but the excited chatter of the children can't even block it out once it's caught Din's attention. His carefully honed senses catch the tone of the conversation, and he quickly works out that an argument has captured his focus; whoever this boy lives with, they have no desire to offer the information that Din has come for. He doesn't even need to be able to distinguish the words to know it.

And then there's a shrieking trill off to his left, and Din flinches so violently he just about trips over his own feet. Grogu silences, his huge eyes rounding fearfully for the briefest of moments, and then his little body slumps in relief as he realizes that Din is well.

"Are you okay?" The other boy asks, eyes as wide as Grogu's had been, and the Mandalorian winces.

"I'm fine," he promises. "I didn't mean to startle you."

The kid just shrugs. "We scared you first."

"I guess so."

A beat of silence goes by, and it takes a moment for that knowledge to catch up with him. That there's no sound coming from the kitchen. Din can feel his face burning even before he glances that way, and in that split second he does wish he hadn't left his helmet behind. He doesn't know what to make of Jo's smirk.

He doesn't know what to make of the woman beside her, either, but there's no thought involved in recognizing her as the boy's mother. And as-

"This is my sister, Ann.

"She's a widow, but no one's closer to Cobb than she is, if ya get what I mean."

Din understands completely, and there's a sense of honor in being introduced to the woman. To the lover of one of his most trusted allies. Even in his covert, before it was destroyed, it was rare to know of the familial statuses of his kin. It was Creed not to ask of one's chosen life partner, though rumor and speculation certainly went around. Privacy, secrecy…they were the Way of his covert, and were to be respected in every form of it there is.

A moment goes by, and he dips his head in formal greeting once he realizes his name has been handed out in turn. "It's a pleasure to meet you."

Her eyes are softer than her sister's, and he finds that her voice is as well when she returns his words. "And it's a pleasure to finally meet you. You have done so much for us."

"Your people have done much in return." Din points out, because if there's one thing he'll never forget, it's how the citizens of Freetown saved him and Fett. How they helped reclaim Mos Espa from the Pyke Syndicate. And that might just be a bigger deed done than how he had taken down the krayt dragon for them.

Cobb Vanth lost the functionality of his arm for that cause, and Din will never stop trying to repay him for that. He remembers how Fett had once pointed out that nearly every decent man in the galaxy comes from some horrible place, and well- Good people deserve good things.

And that's one belief that he refuses to let slip with the others he's shedded.

Din likes to think that he's somewhat of a decent man himself, in comparison to much of the rest out there. Despite the mistakes he's made. Despite breaking his Creed.

Ann just nods in response, but there's an understanding in her eyes. He wonders if she simply knew what he was thinking and connected with it, or if it had shown on his face. He's been practicing the art of masking his thoughts, his emotions, but the empathy of others makes it difficult to know if he's been successful yet.

"Thank you." She murmurs, and they watch Jo kneel down in attempt to ruffle her nephew's hair and tweak Grogu's ear at the same time. Ann's smile is distant with a worry that he doesn't have to ask about.

Din swallows. "Where is he?"

.

"Bring him home."

"You have my word." Din vows. Exiled or not, this is the Way.