Chapter Text
The ramp on Slave I decended and Boba’s vision was filled with neon lights. He’d never seen anything like it before. Nar Shaddaa, nicknamed the “Smuggler’s Moon,” his father had told him. Moon to the planet Nal Hutta, home of the Hutts. This place was supposedly a hot spot for criminal activity and bounty hunters. The perfect sort of place for Seperatist loyalist to hide. Palpatine’s plan to destroy the Jedi Order and turn General Skywalker may have failed, but he hadn’t given up. With a small huff, Boba pressed the side of his helmet to scan the area.
“Remember the mission,” Jango told him. “There will be many distractions here. Don’t let them get in your way.”
Boba wouldn’t be distracted. His father had trained him well. “Find any intel on Chancellor Palpatine’s whereabouts or any information on Seperatist hideouts. I know my mission, father.”
“Good,” Jango nodded before placing a hand on his son’s helmet and giving it a pat. “Keep comms open unless necessary to silence. Check in every hour.”
“Yes, yes, I know,” Boba grumbled. He wasn’t a kid anymore. He’d already had many of his own successful bounties. His name was already becoming known in its own right. All the training with his father, with Commander Cody, with Rex…it had prepared him for everything. This was no different than any other hunt.
Laughing, Jango began to walk off. “K’oyaci!”
“Same to you, old man!” Boba shouted. With the weight of his blaster providing comfort in his hands, Boba started off on his journey.
Much of Nar Shaddaa reminded Boba of Coruscant, but in all the wrong ways. Coruscant always felt welcoming and warm. This place felt cold. Dark. It didn’t take much looking around to notice the seedy dealings happening between exchanged hands. The Republic found this place so dangerous it was off limits. Except to those like him and his father. Bounty Hunters. The best in the galaxy. Maybe Boba hadn’t earned that title just yet, but he would. He’d make his father proud.
While Jango was headed to the Palace of Grakkus the Hutt to check out the gladiator arenas, Boba was tasked to observe the various bars and cantinas. Boba would have rather been in the arena, but he knew better than to argue with his father when given an assignment. Maybe in a few more years he could pick a fight with his father on jobs, but not yet. Bars, at least, were a hot spot for information. It was amazing the sort of things people let loose on their tongues after a few drinks.
Entering his first location, Boba ordered a drink but kept his helmet on as he leaned against the bar and began to listen in on the loud crowd. There were plenty of discussions involving illegal drugs and assassination plans that were itnersting to hear, but not relative to his mission. After an hour and a check in with his father, he moved on to the next location. There was nothing useful here. A second bar, a second hour, and the same result. A third - the same. By this time, Boba was starting to get annoyed enough he might actually need to drink what he ordered.
While the other bars had been horrible, the fourth one was by far the worst. Seconds after entering, he found himself surrounded by omegas of various races offering all sorts of services. Maybe any other night, he’d be interested, but after hours resulting in nothing he was too irritated and shrugged them off. One male omega, however, continued to press. Raising his hand, Boba tilted his chin up with two fingers. “Another time, sweet cheeks.” Reluctantly, the omega took the hint and walked away.
“Not interested in our wares?” The bartender asked as Boba approached and removed his helmet. He’d deserved at least one drink.
“I’m looking for something else,” he told the Zabrak.
The Zabrak laughed as he didn’t wait for Boba to order a drink, placing one in front of him. “Work, then? Bounties? Careful, Mando. Didn’t work so well for your friend.”
Friend? “What are you talking about?” Surely he wasn’t talking about his father. He’d just spoken to him and he was still at the arena.
“Not your friend, then? Probably for the best,” he shrugged. “Don’t think he’s going to make it. Last time I checked on him in the alley he was bleeding quite a bit. Not moving, either.”
Boba’s eyes narrowed. Another Mandalorian? It had to be, if the Zabrak was calling him a ‘friend’. Briefly, Boba wondered what another Mandalorian might be doing here, until he remembered where they were. Working bounties, of course. Failed bounties, apparently. “What was the bounty?” He had hoped it might be something of interest, something involving the Separatists, something to make his time worth it.
“Couldn’t tell you. Just going to let your friend die, then?” The Zabrak asked curiously when Boba gave no signs of moving. “It sounded like some patrons were looking to have their way with him before he croaked.”
“He’s not my friend,” Boba told him, passing him credits and then throwing back the drink. Still, Boba was curious, but he couldn’t make that curiosity too well known. If he did, it could put the already injured Mandalorian at further risk. “No work around here, then?”
“There’s plenty of work, but we don’t tend to run bounties through this bar,” the Zabrak answered.
Returning his helmet to his head, Boba stood. “Then I have no business here. Thanks for the drink.” Leaving the bar, Boba looked for the closest alley. Several people were huddled around what looked like a pile of trash, speaking obscenities. Those must have been the ‘patrons’ the Zabrak had told him about.
“I get first go,” a Twi’lek licked his lips, reaching down to his pants. He didn’t seem to care that he was in public, because Boba watched in disgust as he pulled out his cock.
“I’ll take sloppy seconds,” an Ikotchi smirked, visibly grabbing his own crotch and stroking beneath the fabric. “Bet that omega pussy hasn’t seen an alpha cock like mine. It’ll be tight for sure.”
“I’m fine with his mouth,” a Trandoshan laughed.
Boba hadn’t even noticed the body, but sure enough, there was a lifeless looking Mandalorian propped up against the alley wall in front of the three. He wore unpainted beskar, the silver illuminated by the rainbow lights of the city. “You’ll leave him alone, if you know what’s good for you.”
The three turned their heads and gave him challenging looks.
“And what are you going to do about it?” The Trandoshan asked. “Take him for yourself? Don’t worry, we’ll save sloppy fourths for you. If he’s even still alive by then. But hey, as long as the body is still warm, I’m not picky if the hole is dead or alive.”
With no warning and expert speed, Boba drew his blaster and shot the three of them dead. Wrinkling his nose in annoyance at the deplorable alphas he approached the unmoving body. Now that he was close enough, he could smell the faint scent. Omega. What was an omega doing on a planet like this? Where the hell were his scent blockers? Mandalorian or not, it was extremely dangerous for an omega who wasn’t even trying to hide their scent! Kicking the dead bodies to the side and out of the way he looked the omega up and down, Boba noticed there was a brown blanket wrapped around something in the crook of his left arm.
Holding his breath, Boba knelt down and raised his fingers to the Mandalorian’s neck. He had to rummage through various layers of clothing, but eventually he found a pulse. A very slow one. His fingers came away covered in blood, too. He really was on his last breath. “Mando?” Boba called out, using the common nickname among their people. “Copaani gaan?” He still remained silent and unmoving.
What was he supposed to do? He couldn’t just leave him here to die. He was a Mandalorian. He was omega. Not only was he kin, but Boba’s alpha instincts were going wild. Yet, he had a mission he needed to complete. Clenching his jaw, he raised his arm to contact his father when the blanket in the Mandalorian’s arms began to move. Grabbing his blaster in one hand, Boba carefully began to pull back the blanket ready to fire. Boba wasn’t sure what he was expecting, but a tiny green child that looked a lot like Master Yoda wasn’t on his list. The child let out a terrified coo and pressed itself against the dying Mandalorian in fear.
“It’s ok,” Boba whispered, lowering his blaster. “I’m not going to hurt you. Are you…are you his ad? ”
The child’s large brown eyes opened slightly and there was a hum of confirmation.
Shit. Boba sucked in a breath and quickly looked around. The alley was still quiet, people passing by as if there weren’t three dead bodies. Or maybe they saw and it was so normal they didn’t care. He couldn’t leave them here. He couldn’t. A Foundling was now involved. Gritting his teeth, he raised his arm. “Buir. Change of mission.”
“What’s wrong?” Jango’s voice came through the transmitter full of worry.
“I found another Mandalorian. An omega. He’s injured. He’s…he’s dying, buir , and he has a Foundling with him.” Boba hadn’t expected his voice to crack at the last sentence, but it had.
Jango was silent for several moments on the other end before responding, “Can you get them to the ship safely?”
Licking his lips, Boba looked the Mandalorian up and down. He was taller than Boba, but he looked thin. Boba was strong. He was an alpha. He could do it. He had to do it. “Yes.”
“Then get him there and do what you can,” Jango instructed. “Stay with the ship and I will continue the mission and return when I’m able.”
“Acknowledged,” Boba responded before closing the transmission. “Ok, ad’ika , hold on tight to your buir . I’m going to try and pick him up, ok? We’re headed somewhere safe.” Clearing away the various trash, Boba knelt down and placed a hand beneath the Mandalorian’s knees and his lower back. He had expected someone much heavier, but he found himself lifting the other Mandalorian and his child with relative ease. Now in his arms, he could see the blood staining the omega’s clothing. The child looked up at him with pleading and desperate eyes. “It’s alright, ad’ika. You’re safe, and I’m going to do everything I can to save your father.”
Pulling the Mandalorian tightly against his chest, Boba began to make the journey back to the ship. He knew that he would be vulnerable. Not only were his arms full with a seemingly dead companion, but he’d be unable to reach for any of his weapons. Any that chose to challenge him were met with an equally challenging gaze. Try me , his stance said. There were a few close calls, but no one attacked him and he made it to the Slave I safely.
Carefully laying the Mandalorian down on the incredibly small bed he removed his helmet and started to work on the pieces of armor to find where the injuries were. Slave I offered very little additional space outside of the cockpit, but it would have to do. There were several deep lacerations to the omega’s side where most of the bleeding was coming from. Stabbing a few med stims in the omega’s skin to try and stabilize him, he continued his search. When he tried to remove his helmet, the child protested heavily, slamming his claws against the omega’s silver buy’ce .
“I need to take it off,” Boba told him. “To make sure there are no injuries to his head.”
The child shook his head and kept his little hands firmly in place.
“He was bleeding when I checked his neck. He could have a head injury. I need to see,” Boba tried to explain. The child didn’t relent. Sighing, Boba removed his hand. “Fine.” They could wait until Jango returned for that. Ignoring the helmet for now, Boba continued removing the omega’s clothing to fully expose his wounds. The more he removed the more he realized how bad it all was. Very bad. Not only that, but he could see that this Mandalorian couldn’t have been older than him. He didn’t need to see a face to recognize a young body and still developing muscles. Seriously, what had he been doing on this planet? And by himself with his ad? Or…was he by himself? Had something happened and he’d been separated from his companions? Or were they killed?
A puck. If he was on a bounty, he’d have a puck. Boba began rummaging through the Mandalorian’s things until he found a puck and a tracker. Pressing the button the puck, the hologram came into view. Dank Farrik. It was the Zabrak! The bartender! Cursing again, Boba felt his grip on the puck tighten so much he heard the plastic crack. He’d kill him. He’d kill that bastard!
Calm yourself. Concentrate on saving the omega first.
Sucking in a deep breath to center himself, he placed the puck aside. The Zabrak would meet justice, but not now. Leaving the omega for a brief moment, he found the stash of medical supplies and grabbed a large jar of bacta ointment. Emptying the jar, he lathered the omega’s wounds in it. Hopefully, it would be enough. “This is all I can do for him,” he told the child. “My buir will return soon. Hopefully he can do more.” He draped a blanket over him to keep him warm.
With drooping ears, the child nuzzled itself against the omega’s shoulder.
Boba had been around omegas before, but they had always been in a strong and capable state. General Kenobi, for instance, was an omega, but Boba had never felt protective instincts over him. This Mandalorian, however, had everything alpha inside of Boba screaming. Jango had talked him through these things, tried to prepare him, but it was overwhelming in reality. He wanted to drape himself across this omega’s body and protect him from time itself.
Was this feeling…normal? Jango never took a mate, but had he had these feelings for an omega before? Other than the very necessary basics of heats and ruts, they hadn’t had many conversations about mating. Maybe Boba needed to learn more.
“Can I get you anything?” Boba eventually asked the child, needing to turn his attention elsewhere. His question went ignored. Sighing, he stood, not knowing what else to do. “Alright, well…let me know if that changes.” Grabbing his helmet he retreated to the cockpit. The wait for his father’s return was agonizingly long. Hours. He knew that the mission was the priority, but Boba couldn’t help but wish for Jango to abandon it and return as soon as possible. Occasionally, he checked in on the omega just to make sure there was still a rise and fall of his chest.
When Jango finally returned, Boba was jumping to his feet. “Where is he?”
Boba nodded towards the bed. “I did what I could between med stims and bacta ointment, but it’s bad, father.”
“Why is his helmet still on?” Jango asked as he began to assess the situation.
“The child refused to let me remove it,” Boba told him. “I think he’s injured under there, though. I felt blood.”
Jango placed his fingers against the edge of the omega’s buy’ce and the child immediately woke and fired him the same glare. Retracting his hand, Jango sucked in a slow breath as he straightened. “A Child of the Watch.”
Boba’s lips parted in shock. He knew of them, but he never thought he’d actually encounter them. His father had spoken of them before, and never anything good. They never removed their helmets. It was their creed. But…but what if that meant he would die? Boba was all for being prideful, but was hiding your face worth death?
“Do you have any idea what he was doing here?” Jango asked.
Anger flaring in Boba again, he reached for the puck. “A bounty. It was the bartender that told me there was a dying Mandalorian in the alley. I don’t really know why he told me that knowing he’d come for his life and that I could potentially find the puck. Maybe he thought his buddies that were trying to rape him might take care of me.”
“Did they-?” Jango asked, swallowing hard.
Boba shook his head. “I gave them what they deserved before they could try.”
Placing a hand to the back of Boba’s neck, Jango nodded with a relieved sigh. “Good.”
While Boba and Jango hadn’t gone into the deep details of mating and the rituals, Jango had instilled in Boba from a young age that omegas were to be protected and respected. They were precious, not meat to be abused and used. “ Buir , the bounty must be paid.”
“And it will, in time,” Jango promised. Reaching up, he took off his own helmet and looked the young green child in the eye. “I have never seen another like this, other than Masters Yoda and Yaddle. I wonder how the omega came about him.”
Hopefully, they could ask him when he woke. If he woke. “Father…what do we do about the helmet? If he’s injured…”
Sucking in a breath, Jango looked to his son. “I will let you make the decision, ad’ika. It was you that found him, so he is in your care. Think hard. It is not an easy choice. If the injury is severe, it could be what takes his life before we can get him to a tank. Even then, the helmet would need to be removed for him to be submerged. However, by his creed, if you remove his helmet, he is no longer Mandalorian.”
“That’s absurd!” Boba hissed. “Of course he’s still Mandalorian! Being a Mandalorian is about what’s in your heart, not what’s on your head.”
Jango smiled. “Yes, my son, that is true by our creed, but not his. He will react poorly. He may wish himself dead than be viewed as an outcast from his covert. Do not be surprised if he tries to kill you for it.”
“He’d rather be dead with his helmet on, leaving his ad behind?” Boba asked, not understanding the logic. “What if we hadn’t found him? He’d die and leave his ad alone. There’s no telling what would have happened to him on a planet like this!”
Jango hushed him and pressed a hand down to signal him to breathe and calm. “All fair and good points, but it is not me you will have to convince. It is him. It can be hard to think logically when you are brought up your entire life with a certain set of beliefs.”
Boba’s jaw tightened. “It’s like…it’s like a chip in your head, giving orders.” Like the chip in the clones that had executed Order 66.
“Yes,” Jango nodded, “and like with the clones, you’d need to find an override. What is your choice?”
Licking his lips, Boba thought it over only briefly. It was an easy choice for him. He wanted this omega to live. “I can beg for forgiveness later, once I know he’s going to survive.” This time, when the child protested, Boba picked him up and handed him to Jango. Curling his fingers beneath the omega’s helmet, he released the valves and slowly began to lift it from the omega’s head.
Boba gasped.
The omega was beautiful. The most beautiful thing Boba had ever seen. He’d been right about his age. He was young, maybe even a few years younger than Boba himself. Thick brown curls were matted with blood, but Boba could already imagine how beautiful they’d be when the sun hit them. His jaw was sharp and peppered with a poor attempt at a five o’clock shadow. Then there were those lips. Those pink plush lips. Boba had to resist the urge to touch them. Instead, he settled for feeling around the omega’s head where he found a still bleeding wound.
“Go grab the gauze,” Jango instructed when he saw what Boba had found. “We need to stop the bleeding. I’m going to get us to the skies. We have to hurry and get him proper care.”
Swallowing hard, Boba nodded as they went their separate ways. Arms full of gauze and medical wrap, he began to tend to the omega’s head to stop the bleeding. He’d made the right call. He did. The omega would have bled out by the time they docked somewhere. Once he was finished, covered in blood, Boba fell to his knees by the bed and pressed his forehead against the omega’s side. “Gedet’ye …get better.”
After a silent prayer, Boba joined his father in the cockpit. “Where are we going?”
“Kamino,” Jango answered. “It’s where he can get the best care. General Kenobi will meet us there. I gathered some information on a Seperatist hideout on Ostor.”
Boba closed his eyes in relief. “So, it wasn’t a waste.”
“It wasn’t a waste either way,” Jango told him, placing a hand on his son’s shoulder. “I’m proud of you, ad’ika. You displayed true Mandalorian honor today. At the end of the day, we are kin. I wish we could all see things that way.”
“But you chose to walk away from all of that,” Boba argued. “From Mandalore. The other Mandalorians. The civil war.”
“Because I knew we were better than fighting with each other,” Jango told him. “It doesn’t change the fact that I would risk myself to save their lives. Even those belonging to the Watch.”
Clutching his helmet to his chest, he watched the stars go by them in hyperspace. The omega’s child was in Jango’s lap looking completely dejected. Boba wished he could speak. Maybe Master Yoda could converse with him. Eventually, the silence was too much for Boba and he asked, “Father? Has there ever been an omega? One that you liked? Like…really liked?”
Raising a curious eyebrow, Jango looked over at his son curiously. “Why do you ask?”
“I…,” Boba felt almost silly admitting it, and he could feel his cheeks starting to burn. “I don’t know how to explain it. What I felt carrying the omega in my arms. It was…I don’t even know his name. I barely even know his face, but I felt like I could die for him immediately.”
“You felt that pull,” Jango acknowledged softly. “Seeing an omega in distress like that can certainly cause that feeling. It awakens all your base instincts.”
Boba shook his head. “It was more than that. I…,” swallowing hard, he bit his lower lip and looked away in embarrassment. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen someone so beautiful in my life.”
To his surprise, Jango chuckled. “There’s no shame in finding someone attractive. Stop hiding your face. I know very well you’ve bed a few omegas.”
Choking on the air he breathed, Boba went into a coughing fit. “N-no! W-what?!” He had. He definitely had, but he thought he’d been discrete! He’d been careful! Ruts alone sucked! Of course they were better spent with an omega!
Jango raised both his brows and blinked. “I’m your father. I’m not stupid, and I know very well how hormones and the body works.”
“You didn’t answer my question,” Boba huffed, still shielding his face from his father’s. Jango was silent long enough that Boba slowly began to lower the hand that was acting as a shield and spared his father a glance. He looked…sad.
“There was an omega once, that had my heart,” he finally answered. “If I’m honest, I suppose he still holds it.”
What? His father was still in love with someone? “Why haven’t you said something? Done something? Courted them?”
“Because like our injured omega, he has a creed of his own that forbids our mating,” Jango said simply.
Stupid freaking creeds! “What is he? Is he Mandalorian? A Child of the Watch? Something else, maybe?” It had to be something else, right? Boba’s mind started to spin as he thought through all the races and their customs, trying to pinpoint something.
“What he is, is not for me,” Jango told him. “We’re still friends. That will never change.”
So it was someone Boba had to know! Well, maybe not. His father knew several people Boba hadn’t met, but there was a good chance Boba had at least seen them before, right? He needed to find out who. He’d change their mind. His father deserved someone. “Mandalorians don’t back away from a fight.”
Jango sucked in a breath. “Perhaps I’m just waiting for their next move.”
So he hadn’t given up. Not completely. It gave Boba hope. “I just want you to be happy, buir. ”
Reaching up, Jango ruffled a hand through his son’s wavy brown hair. “I am happy, my son. With you.”
Boba didn’t doubt that for a second, but…what if he could be happier? His father had been through so much. He deserved everything.
Coming out of hyperspace, Kamino finally came into view. Boba retreated back out of the cockpit to the omega and made sure he was ready to be transported. The second they landed, droids entered with a bed. As carefully as he could, Boba lifted the omega into his arms and placed him onto the transport bed.
“Take the child and go with the omega,” Jango told him, handing over the kid. “You should be with him. If he wakes, he’ll need to be around someone he knows. Waking without the helmet is enough, but to not have his ad’ika there would be more than traumatizing.”
Pressing the kid against his chest he nodded. “And you?”
“I will brief General Kenobi. I’ll come find you when I’m done,” Jango told him.
Leaving his father behind, Boba followed the droids to the medical bay. Thankfully, the droids didn’t waste time with medical bed scans, and headed straight for the tanks. The room was full of them, many of them occupied with bodies that looked just like Boba only older. Injured clones. Boba could do nothing but watch as the omega was entered into a tank and his body was submerged. Blood briefly tinted the bacta waters, but the filter system made quick work of it.
“The healing process will be long, but the prognosis is good,” one of the droids told him. “You got him here just in time.”
Finally, Boba could let out a sigh of relief. “Hear that, kid? Your dad is going to be ok.”
With a small whimper, the child reached out and placed a tiny hand against the tank.
Boba felt inclined to do the same, placing his palm right in front of where the omega’s face floated. Even within the tank, he was beautiful, his hair floating around his head like a halo. “Get well soon, burc’ya . There’s so much for me to know about you.”
Pressing away from the glass, Boba took a seat with the child in his lap and waited.