Chapter Text
He's alone in the dark, taken from the peace he had known at the Jedi Temple. Rarely is the darkness ever broken. When it is, he is touched and handled by possessive hands. Only an object to be displayed and flaunted. Once he had been wielded by sure, strong hands that united their people. His soul had sung with the justice he helped mete out. Now he is stuffed in a box and hidden away. Those who had stolen him had been greedy and self-righteous: the kind he would have struck down in another life.
His soul aches with despairing loneliness. There is no solace provided to him. He wonders if he will ever again know peace. He is so very alone... and he yearns for someone to save him from this black, endless nothingness.
"Jaster!"
He woke up with a gasp. His breath stuttered hard enough to make his chest hurt. Tears welled up and spilled over. The lingering, horrifying ache of loneliness made his chest hurt. He was rattled and heartsick from being continually woken up like this: somewhere lost between reality and the dreams that cling. He doesn't feel real or even himself. Din's hand was a strong anchor, dragging him back to reality. But it was not enough.
Jaster reached out: grasping and pulling. Din let out a grunt of surprise at being manhandled. His heavy, warm weight dropped down onto Jaster. A shuddering sigh of relief escaped him. He buried his face in the juncture of Din's shoulder and neck. Jaster breathed in the scent of Din: the tang of sweat and unique musk. Din was so wonderfully real. Jaster clutched at Din's shoulders and buried a hand in somewhat greasy, wavy locks. Din shuddered hard.
"Jaster," Din murmured.
His warm breath sent a shiver winding through Jaster. "Please...just," Jaster swallowed hard, "Let me have this..."
Din's breath hitched at the wash of Jaster's breath on his bare neck in return. Slowly, carefully, Din shifted to hold Jaster properly. Their breathing synced. They relaxed into each other. Jaster had never been so close to anyone that he wished he could just hide beneath them. Even with his closest friends, he kept himself a little distant. He'd lost to much, could never trust entirely, but somehow Din made Jaster crave closeness and trust implicitly. Even without a bond, Jaster knew Din would have still made him feel like this.
"I was alone in the dark," Jaster whispered, needing to speak about the dream to be released from it. "And all I wanted was peace."
"You're not alone. And you're safe with me," Din assured.
And it was easy to believe him. To know that as truth in this moment. While the darkness of the room was deep, Jaster was not alone. The feel of Din chased away the last dredges of the dream.
"I know it wants me to understand," Jaster murmured.
"Yes."
"I'm trying too."
They were quiet for a few minutes. Jaster threaded his fingers through Din's thick hair. He idly wondered what color it was and if his curls were soft when properly clean. He dug his fingers in to gently cradle Din's head. The full body shiver that caused made Jaster blink in realization. He had been so caught up in his own torment that it hadn't dawned on him. Din never took his helmet off around anyone, except Grogu.
"Din... Who's the last person to touch your hair?" Jaster asked gently.
"Paz."
"How long?"
The silence stretched for a few moments.
"Years..." Din breathed out the quiet confession against Jaster's skin.
"Stars, Din," Jaster started to loosen his hold. He felt like an inconsiderate ass. "I'm sorry. I should've asked..."
"I like it."
Jaster's mouth snapped shut. He forced himself to breathe in, out, and pet gently at Din's hair. Little shivers kept winding through Din. Jaster bit his bottom lip on a smile. His heart thudded heavily in his chest. The heat of Din melted away any lingering tension, stress, or fear from Jaster.
They lay that way until Jaster's body and mind began to lose the battle to sleep. Din eased himself over onto his side. Jaster let out a quiet sound of loss. Din curled an arm over Jaster's belly. The contact was enough to resettle Jaster.
Sleep snuck back in.
The morning began like all others since Jaster came to Tatooine. Din tried to get the other Mandalorian to spar with the Dark Saber against beskar spear. Jaster declined that but offered hand to hand sparring instead. It made Din wonder if the other man was still skittish to use it, especially with the intense dream last night. Sparring hand to hand was just as satisfying. Jaster was shorter and leaner, thus faster. He was a scrappy, dirty fighter. Din was heavier and fought like each fight could be the last. It caused them to continue to draw even.
When they stopped, breathing heavily and starting to sweat in the early morning light, they turned in surprise at the sound of clapping. Pelli was standing with Grogu at her feet. She actually looked truly impressed, not sarcastic.
"Damn, no wonder the legends said Mandos were the greatest warriors in the galaxy," Pelli grinned.
Din shrugged, feeling a little sheepish at the compliment. He'd never taken praise well. Tended to brush it off from others except those that mattered, like his tribe elders. Jaster chuckled and clapped him on the shoulder.
"I got first meal ready. It ain't much, but it's food," Pelli shrugged. "Left it on the stove in the kitchen. Feel free to make use of the sonic. I'm gonna get started ordering parts for the Larty."
"Thank you, Pelli," Jaster said gratefully.
First meal turned out to be a type of porridge, sweetened with bantha butter and desert fruit, along with some bacon of unknown origin. Din made a bowl at Jaster's insistence to take to the spare room to eat. Din lingered a moment to watch Jaster help the child scoop porridge with a spoon. It truly touched Din how much the other man doted on Grogu.
Din shut himself into the spare room and slid his helmet off. The last few weeks had been easier with the child having Jaster helping out. It felt more like co-parenting than letting another person occasionally watch the child. Din blinked, pausing in eating at the sudden thought. But it was the truth. Jaster had slotted right in. It should be suspicious how quickly and easily they found this closeness. He wasn't good with his feelings. But Jaster kept drawing him out, made Din want to get closer, and it felt easy to be with him.
It made Din think of the Tuskens saying they were bond mates. Was this what it would have felt like if there had been no bond between them? Or was this just because of their bond?
Din thought he'd caught reciprocal feelings of arousal and interest, but it got smothered so quickly. He truly had to be reading too much into things. He pushed those thoughts away and brought his bowl back to the kitchen.
From there, the trio ventured out to the Larty. Din climbed up into the cockpit to check the systems. While it had a copilot seat, like the Slave 1, it could be flown by only one pilot. The controls had already been set up for solo piloting. A fine layer of dust obscured the readouts and the top of the console.
Din used the edge of his cape to sweep the dust off. Din's breath caught. "Jaster, come up here!" he called down to the other Mandalorian.
Jaster climbed up, having to press into the back of Din's chair. He squinted at the dash where Din was pointing. He leaned closer in and over Din's shoulder. "Kandosii sa ka'rta, Vode an," (One indomitable heart, Brothers all.) Jaster read. "Those are Jaig Eyes." He glanced down at Din, "Pelli did say this was a clone trooper transport."
"So?"
Jaster blinked. "Boba said that he and all the clone troopers were modeled after my son, Jango. He was the progenitor. And that Jango brought in 100 trainers, most of them Mandalorians, to teach the clone troopers."
Din sucked in a startled breath. "What?"
"You didn't know?" Jaster looked just as thrown.
"He never told me they were trained by Mandalorians," Din frowned. To be fair, Din had never asked about Boba's past. He felt privileged when his vod felt like sharing any of his history.
"I didn't know the clones knew Mandalorian battle songs or symbols. Boba didn't go into great detail about the clones or their training. Just told me about the Cuy'val Dar. It would make sense that some of the trainers passed on our culture and rituals to the clones. Perhaps not all of them were Dar'manda for what they did," Jaster considered.
Din nodded. "Do you think it was a clone that owned this ship?"
A clang drew their attention.
Jaster snorted. "I'll go see what he's getting into."
"Vor'e."
The rest of the day was spent cataloging everything on the Larty. Din powered up the engines. The computer system worked as though it were new. It was one of the many reasons Din loved per-Imperial ships. They were made with better quality and meant to last until something blasted it out of the sky. The guts and core of the ship were in amazingly good shape. Better than his original once over had implied.
Pelli came out when the suns were starting to set. She climbed up into the Larty. "Well, everything's ordered! Spent a damn hour arguing with a broker on—Oh, kark! You're helmet's off!" She yelped upon seeing Jaster. She slapped her hands over her eyes. "Was I not supposed to see!? I was beginning to think those damn things were glued on!"
Jaster burst out laughing. Din chuckled under his breath, glad his face couldn't be seen to hide his grin. The child was looking at Pelli in confusion.
"You can look," Jaster assured. "My…uh, the hunter follows a more... orthodox version of being a Mandalorian."
Pelli dropped her hands, "Well, hell, if you all are this good looking, I can see why you'd keep the helmets on. You'd never be left alone!"
Jaster blushed to Din's amazement. He looked down. "I think you might be exaggerating."
"Am I, Mando?" Pelli gestured at Jaster, eyes wide and expression one of disbelief. "Back me up here!"
"I think she has a point," Din cleared his throat.
Pelli smirked, planting her fists on her hips. "See!"
Jaster's face had gone redder still. He scooped up Grogu. "I think it's time for late meal." He marched out of the Larty.
"Oh, he definitely likes you back, Mando," Pelli smirked. "And that man is gorgeous. You'd better lock that down. You're crazy, not too! I want to!"
"Pelli!"
She threw her hands up. "Fine! I'm just sayin'. He's right, though. It's time for some food." She followed after Jaster.
Din sighed heavily. He needed to come clean to Jaster. He just wasn't ready to see the disappointment on the other Mandalorian's face. How much would he like Din when he found out Din had been wearing his armor in disgrace? Din didn't want to find out. He didn't want to have to fight Jaster to keep his armor. Because he was going to redeem himself. He couldn't allow another to take his armor. His ba'vodu hadn't tried. She knew once he set his mind to something, he would achieve it. Din would make himself an honorable Mandalorian again. He just needed to make Jaster understand that.
He reluctantly left the Larty behind. His appetite had soured. Whenever he thought of his banishment, it sent his stomach churning and his heart pounding. He clenched his fists to hide the tremble in his hands. He drew several steadying breaths. One thing at a time, he reminded himself. He had to get this ship ready. He couldn't do anything about his banishment until then.
Din found the others at the little table Pelli had wedged into the nook in her kitchen. It was really not meant for more than two people. Which was fine since Din couldn't eat with them anyway. Jaster was searing strips of meat in a pan, in between stirring some kind of red sauce. A large pack of pre-made noodles was steaming in the microwave.
"I'd like the address for the restaurant to meet the owner of the Larty," Din told Pelli.
"Yeah, sure," she looked over from where she was taking down plates from her cupboard. "You two going over after we eat?"
Din nodded. "I'd like to talk to this person about the ship."
"This person have a name?" Jaster asked, pulling the noodles out and pouring them into a bowl. He dumped his red sauce over the noodles before thoroughly mixing it up.
"Yeah, goes by Davijaan," Pelli set the plates down on the table.
Jaster shot a knowing look over at Din.
"What?" Pelli narrowed her eyes.
"That's a Mandalorian name," Jaster told her.
The mechanic shrugged. "Well, he doesn't wear armor."
Din was putting the pieces together as he was sure Jaster was too. A Mandalorian name, a Mando'a speaking being with a Concord Dawn accent that owned a Clone transport ship could only be a clone. Neither of them said anything further. If this person hid their face, they clearly didn't want their identity known. They weren't going to out the person.
Jaster grabbed a plate to serve up some of the meat. He handed it over to Pelli, who spooned up a portion of noodles for herself. Jaster filled a small bowl with a portion of noodles and meat to set in front of Grogu. He warned the child to wait. Grogu's ears wilted, and he pouted. Jaster plated another portion of meat and noodles, holding it out to Din.
"I'm not hungry," Din shook his head.
Jaster frowned. "You need to eat."
"I'll eat later."
Jaster did not look appeased. He set the plate in the microwave and covered it with a warmer. "I'll leave it here for you."
"Thank you."
Pelli watched them like they were a particularly interesting holo drama. Both ignored her. Jaster made his own plate and then dropped down into the seat across from Pelli. The mechanic took a bite. Her eyebrows arched up. She shot an appreciative look at Jaster.
"This is good! Oh, he's a keeper, Mando!" Pelli grinned.
Din rolled his eyes. He was not sure if he was appreciative or not that she was trying to so hard to push them at each other. Jaster chuckled awkwardly, cheeks flushed a light pink. He looked away to help Grogu eat. Pelli shot Din a smug look. Din was caught by the other man's cute response. It was like he wasn't used to being complimented at all. Din kind of wanted to make Jaster blush too.
"I'll keep an eye on the tyke while you're both out. Make sure he gets to bed too if you're out late," she smirked at Din.
"I appreciate it. I doubt we'll be out long."
"Take your time, Mando! Have a few drinks. Davi's got a cozy little bar. Hole in the wall kinda place, mostly locals know it," Pelli chattered.
Jaster ate in between helping Grogu. When he was done, he started to gather up his plate.
"Don't worry about it. I'll clean up. You two go out. Have a good time," Pelli grinned, shooing them out. She gave Din the name and directions to the bar.
Jaster followed Din out of Pelli's garage. Din wove his way through the back streets of Mos Eisley. He knew the city well enough that he had little trouble finding the small bar. It was tucked back between larger buildings. Over the door, painted in dark yellow, was the name of the establishment: Davijaan's. Beneath that was the same name spelled out in Mando'a with three yellow slashes marked in the center by a black mark that looked like a nail, on either side. Yellow was meant for remembrance, and the symbol was clearly a Mandalorian clan symbol.
Din glanced over at Jaster. It seemed the other verd was thinking the same as him.
Just what were they about to walk into?
Jaster recognized that clan symbol from his home world. More notably, it was the clan of a friend from his time as a Journeyman Protector. Jaster was now less certain that the individual they were meeting was a clone of Jango. He kept his thoughts to himself. Din stepped through the door with Jaster close on his heels.
It was still early enough in the evening that there was only one person tucked back in a corner with a drink already. A young man with tightly curled black hair and dark eyes straightened up from where he'd been leaning on the bar top, watching the holo screen mounted on the wall. Jaster's brow scrunched. The young man looked vaguely familiar.
"Can I help you?" The kid asked.
"We're here to see Davijaan. I'm buying his ship," Din answered bluntly.
Jaster appreciated the other Mandalorian's forthright way of talking. Din didn't mince words. He said what he needed to and left it at that.
The kid's eyes widened. "I'll get him." He hurried over to the door into the kitchen and shoved it open. "Buir! Te beroya cuyir olar!" (The hunter is here!)
There was a clang like a pot being dropped. A moment later, a man pushed through the swinging door. He was dressed in the rough woven wear of most Tatooine natives and a head wrap that mimicked the Tuskens' around his face. His dark, gleaming eyes were still visible, as was his dark tan skin.
"Su cuy'gar, beroya," the man greeted, stepping forward and offering his hand to Din first. "You're the one buying my ship?" His familiar voice and accent had Jaster's breath catching.
"Su cuy'gar, I am," Din answered simply, after a momentary pause, shaking the man's hand. "Gar eyayah, guuror ner vod." (You're an echo, like my brother.)
The kid's eyes went wide, staring between Din and Davijaan.
"Karir, tell Rix to go home. We're closed for the night," Davijaan gestured at the man in the corner. "Tell him the drink is free."
Karir crossed the room to lean down and whisper urgently to the man. There was a slow blink from Rix, but he downed the rest of his ale and left. Karir quickly locked the door behind him.
"How do you know what I am?" Davijaan's eyes narrowed. "You can't see my face."
"I know your voice," Din replied. "I am the sworn vod of Daimyo Boba Fett of Mos Espa."
Davijaan huffed and then looked at Jaster. "And who are you?"
Jaster reached up to slide his helmet off. "Jaster Mereel, gar ba'buir. I would know that voice and my home world's dialect of Mando'a anywhere."
Davijaan reached up to rip his head wrap off. Tears welled in Jaster's eyes. Jango's face stared back at him, but it was weathered. This man was at least a decade older than Jaster. Davijaan's curls were salt and peppered with age.
"Bantha shit. Jaster Mereel is dead," the clone spat angrily.
"I was, yes," Jaster swallowed thickly. "The last voice I heard before I died was my son, Jango's, on Korda Six."
"Any Mandalorian would know that from the last 60 years."
Jaster conceded that point. "You painted Clan Davin over the door. I served alongside a Cort Davin on Concord Dawn as a Journeyman Protector. He was one of the few I considered a friend. We joined together, but he couldn't help when I was charged with murder and banished."
Davijaan's eyes widened. "Cort Davin was one of the Cuy'va dar on Kamino that trained us. He taught us Mando'a and felt it was important we all know the culture. He told us about Jaster Mereel and the True Mandalorians. He hated what Jango had done, but he trained us to survive, to know our heritage, and treated us like people instead of meat droids."
Jaster squeezed his eyes shut. He didn't know how his son could have fallen so low. How could he sell his soul to a Sith and turn his back on the clones? "Ni ceta, Davijaan, for all that you suffered."
Davijaan wet his bottom lip. "I don't know if I believe you are who you say."
"He is. I was beside him when he…came back to life. Ori'haat," Din swore sincerely.
The clone pursed his lips thoughtfully. It was such a Jango expression that it hurt Jaster's heart. Once again, here was his son's face to haunt him. But this was not Jango. And this man deserved to be treated as his own man.
"I know you by reputation, beroya. You're legendary in this parsec. I've no doubt of your honor," Davijaan took a deep breath. He caught Jaster's eyes. "If he says that is the truth, then I will believe it." Jaster's shoulders lost the tension that had taken up residence there. The clone gestured at one of the tables. "Please, sit. Karir, get a round of drinks."
They moved to one of the tables. Din and Jaster sat across from Davijaan. Karir plunked a round of ales down on the table. He produced a straw for Din as well. The silver Mandalorian nodded his thanks.
"Who named you?" Jaster asked curiously.
"Cort did. He named all the clones he trained. He was proud of us. He was the one who noticed my faster reflexes and quick thinking. He recommended that I be a pilot. And after seeing how good I was at it, he named me in honor of my role. Davijaan, we come with the dark, for how pilots use the black of space as a tool for attack. My call sign was Oddball," Davijaan looked rather proud. "One of the other clones gave me that one."
"Names are important to Mandalorians. I am glad that Cort thought you all deserved the right to have one," Jaster stated firmly. "I wonder how he got roped in being one of the trainers. Boba told me they had to forsake everything to go to Kamino."
"Jango picked Cort because of you."
Jaster's eyebrows arched in surprise. "What?"
"Cort believed in what you stood for, and when Jango explained what he was doing, Cort couldn't turn away. He told us that he felt honor-bound to protect and teach Mandalorian traditions and give us what was our right by heritage, despite Jango's own feelings on the matter," Davijaan explained.
"He was a good man."
Davijaan nodded. "Which is why I hope he never knew what happened to those of us he trained. I served all through the war until Palpatine took over the Republic," Davijaan paused to take a long gulp of ale. His face was shadowed with dark memories.
"Boba told me the clones had a chip in them that made them attack Jedi. Did that happen to you?" Jaster asked with concern.
Davijaan took a shuddering breath. He nodded, looking ashamed. "My only solace is that I failed to kill any Jedi or find any who survived. I stayed at the beginning of the Empire. But when we were sent to bomb a planet for resisting…" He flinched and shook his head. "When we got back to Coruscant, I defected. I stole that Larty, and I came here."
"Tatooine is a good planet to disappear on," Din remarked.
"Spoken like someone who knows personally," the clone cracked a smile.
Din nodded but offered no further information.
Davijaan picked up where he left off. "I freed a woman after I'd been here a few years. Gave her the credits to leave. She decided to stay. We married, and had my son." He clapped Karir on the back. His son looked down, a touch bashful, but proud. "It's been a better life than I deserve."
Jaster smiled at that. "I understand the sentiment all too well."
Davijaan dipped his chin in acknowledgement. He turned his attention back to Din. "When I heard a Mandalorian was interested in my ship, it made me happy. That old girl deserves to be used for good again," Davijaan smiled. "Pelli told me you'd probably be modding it out. I'm curious what you plan to do to her."
Din seemed to perk up. He laid out all his plans. Davijaan offered some ideas to bolster weak points and beef up the engines. They went back and forth for a few minutes. Jaster enjoyed watching the two men discuss something that was so clearly a passion to them. Karir watched the two chat with intense interest as well. All of the specs and shop talk went right over his head. Instead, Jaster watched Din's hands gesticulate. Din was so expressive when he talked. Jaster had never seen a Mandalorian who had learned to nonverbally emote as well as Din. Jaster was learning to read Din's body language better with each day.
Davijaan finally asked the one question Jaster had been expecting to come. "Can I ask what you plan to do with her?"
"Take back Mandalore," Din stated decisively.
Davijaan's expression shifted to stunned disbelief. "The planet is glassed and poisoned."
"We plan to go see just how destroyed the planet is, and hopefully see if there is anything worth saving. If not Mandalore, then salvage the rest of the sector. Mandalorians deserve to go back to their home worlds. It's ours by right and by heritage. I would see that restored," Jaster declared.
"As Mand'alor again?" Davijaan looked less than convinced.
Jaster nodded. "Yes."
"And how do you plan to do that?" The clone scoffed.
Jaster unclipped the Dark Saber and set it on the table top. "With this."
Davijaan sucked in a sharp breath. "Where'd you come by that?"
"I won it from the beroya here. Who won it from the demagolka who ravaged Mandalore," Jaster answered simply.
Davijaan chuffed in amazement. "Best of luck to you both then."
"Thank you," Din and Jaster said in unison.
The clone blinked.
"Davijaan, regardless of how you came to be," Jaster took a steadying breath. He held the clone's gaze. "Ni Ru'kel kar'taylir gar sa ner aliit." (I would know you as my family.)
Davijaan's eyes welled with tears. He shook his head, expression conflicted, "I am not Mandalorian."
"I don't care. To me, you are my grandchild. It is your choice. You are welcome into my clan or just my House if that would better suit you. I will offer this to every child of Jango's," Jaster stated firmly.
"I would be honored to be included under your House, since I use Davin as my surname," Davijaan's voice was strained with emotion.
Jaster reached across the table, offering his hand. Davijaan took it. "Ni kar'taylir gar sa ner aliit, Davijaan Davin, of House Mereel." He looked to Karir. "I would offer you the same, bu'ad."
Karir's eyes widened. "I…" He looked to his father.
"It's your choice, son," Davijaan smiled.
"I would be honored to be included under your House," Karir echoed his father's words.
Jaster took the young man's hand and gave him the same adoption oath into his House.
"So…are you Mando's riduur, because I've been following his career for years. And there's been no mention of you. I know Mando's been staying at Daimyo Fett's, which does that mean he's family now too?" Karir blurted now that he had the opportunity to speak up. "Does this mean we're Mandalorian!?"
Davijaan looked up at the ceiling in exasperation as if praying to the Tatooine deities for patience. Din seemed to have been stunned into silence. His gloves squeaked around the ale glass when his grip tightened.
"Yes, to all your questions," Jaster said simply. It was too complicated to try to explain everything otherwise. Besides, riduur meant partner too, not just spouse. It seemed appropriate enough. And as far as Jaster was concerned, all the clones, regardless of their personal feelings, were his grandchildren. Any who had families were also included under the Mereel House or clan if they wanted to be. Wasn't that a wonderful thought? He had been the last of the Mereels. Now he had possibly thousands of new members in his family.
Din's helmet turned towards Jaster. He notably did not say anything.
"Buir…we're Mandalorians!" Karir grinned with gleeful excitement.
"In name only." Though Davijaan couldn't hold back his smile.
"You're welcome to be True Mandalorians as well. I am rebuilding my group. We found hundreds of sets of beskar armor at Boba's palace. If you decide, you may swear to the Mandalorian tenets and my Codex. I would welcome you happily," Jaster offered. Davijaan and Karir stared at him in utter disbelief. "I will give you a copy of it all to read. You don't need to decide tonight. It's a serious commitment and oath that can not be broken without serious consequences." Jaster took out a data stick, offering it to Davijaan. He always kept extra copies of his codex and the tenets to provide to others. He was going to need more data sticks.
Davijaan reached out to accept the data stick. "We'll think on it."
"That's all I ask. I think that's enough for tonight." Jaster pushed up to his feet. "Thank you for the drinks."
Din stood up as well. He set a few credits down to cover the cost of the drinks.
"Beroya, I would like to see what you do to my Larty when you're done modding it," Davijaan stood as well.
"Of course," Din dipped his helmet in agreement.
Davijaan clasped arms with Jaster and Din. Karir did the same.
"Ret'," Jaster nodded.
"Ret'."
Din led the way back out. Jaster followed him, lost in thought, while keeping an eye on his surroundings. Regardless of emotional turmoil, a Mandalorian always kept their guard up. Din brought them to Pelli's garage, but skirted the structure to head out back. He unlocked the Larty and slid the bay door open. He turned to boost himself up to sit on the deck, legs dangling out the door. Jaster followed his example, sitting close enough to press his thigh against Din's. Jaster needed the feel and heat of the other Mandalorian's body. They stared up at the night sky in silence. Jaster never appreciated anyone's quiet patience quite so much as Din's in that moment.
"I don't think it will stop hurting when I see Jango's face in each one of them," Jaster whispered. "I'm heartbroken each time by their stories. Jango's legacy is a trail of destruction. How could he love only Boba, and not the others? How could he sell himself like that and lose all his honor? Did he stop believing in my codex? It feels like my own legacy…" He swallowed hard past the lump in his throat from the rise of too many emotions at once. "It feels like a waste. Just a sad attempt left in the history of our people to try to make a change and fail." He dared to whisper the one question that kept lurking in the dark recesses of his mind. "What if I fail again?"
Din tipped his head towards Jaster. "You won't fail again."
"You seem very certain."
"You've too much conviction to fail again," Din replied simply.
Jaster huffed, smiling just a little. "You keep saying exactly what I need to hear. How'd you do that?"
Din shrugged. "I'm just telling you what I've observed."
"All you've seen is one poor man getting repeatedly battered by horrors I didn't live through," Jaster scoffed.
"You keep your head up and your focus on the future."
Jaster nodded, taking a long, low breath. "If I was allowed to choose anyone, if I'd been brought back alone…I'd chose to have you beside me."
Din ducked his head self-consciously, shoulders shrugging bashfully. "I'm very picky with my loyalties. I only make friends with the ones with honor and a true warrior's spirit."
"Glad I made the cut then," Jaster bumped his pauldron against Din's with a soft, ringing clang.
They lapsed into silence. The moons rose slowly over the desert. They stayed leaning against each other until Din finally decided it was time to get some rest. Jaster followed him inside. It was amusing to realize that it was Jaster always following Din. When the roles were reversed, Jaster could only hope that he would keep Din's loyalty and not let him down.
