Work Text:
Moff Gideon was right. The Dark Troopers were too much for them to handle, and, now, quickly deteriorating doors were the only thing holding them back. Blasters could barely make a dent in them, and Din wouldn’t be able to use the beskar spear fast enough for everyone to come out unscathed.
He wished he could wipe the smirk off Gideon’s face. But not now. There were more important matters at hand. Like the starship that refused to identify itself as it went into the landing pad.
In an instant, everything stopped, a heavy tension falling upon them as the Dark Troopers seized trying to open the doors, turning on their heels as a lone stranger walked across the ship with purpose, grabbing a lightsaber off his belt as soon as the Troopers were in sight. Double blades blocked blaster fire and sliced through them with practiced ease as he advanced with a small droid perched on his shoulder, a long robe flowing behind him.
Grogu seemed entranced by the image of the stranger as he moved closer to their position, tiny hand touching the monitor in front of him in some sense of acknowledgement as the last batch of Dark Troopers were eliminated. The stranger stood in front of the doors, waiting. Grogu pointed towards it.
“Open the doors.” Din said.
Silence.
“I said, open the doors.”
“Are you crazy?” Fennec deadpanned. Din decided to take matters into his own hands and let Grogu sit on a chair as he pressed a button on the control panel.
A man stepped inside, deactivating his lightsaber and putting it back on his belt. Green eyes looked around the room at all the blasters pointed at him, but he remained at ease unlike the BD unit who seemed rather jittery on his shoulder.
Din scrutinized him. Red hair. Hints of gray near his temple. Freckles. Scars dotting his face.
“Are you a Jedi?”
“I am. My name is Cal Kestis, and I’m here for him.” He looked at Grogu, who opted to peek at him from his position. Curious, but unmoving.
Din followed his gaze, trying to read the kid’s face before he came to a conclusion. “He doesn’t want to go with you.”
“He does. He just wants your permission.”
Din let out a close-mouthed sigh. He knew this was bound to happen, but it felt too sudden, and he wasn’t ready to fulfil his oath. Not yet. He walked over to Grogu, a sad smile forming on his lips as he picked up the child, his child, for what could be the last time.
There were many things Din wanted to say, things that were choked in his chest, words that wanted to spill out his mouth, but he settled for this:
“Go. That’s who you belong with. He’s one of your kind. I promise I’ll see you again.”
Grogu’s hand reached right where his cheek would be, and Din understood it all too well. Slowly, he took off his helmet and laid it on the ground, letting Grogu look at him for the first time. Big eyes stared at him. At his eyes. His nose. His wrinkles. The way his lips were pursed into a thin line. He closed his eyes when Grogu touched his face, trying to keep his composure for both their sakes.
“Alright, pal. It’s time to go.”
Grogu whimpered.
“Don’t be afraid. You’ll be alright.”
He slowly laid Grogu on the ground and watched him take small steps towards Cal. The Jedi extended his hand. Maybe as a greeting. Maybe as a sign he could trust him. Grogu did the same. And, only then, Cal bent down to pick him up before turning to Din.
“I’ll take care of him. I promise.”
And, with that, the trio got inside the elevator. Cal gave Din one last nod as the doors closed in front of them.
Grogu was a good student. Many Masters had trained him before Cal but, still, meditation was something the little one couldn’t grasp very well. He got distracted easily by flowers, insects, frogs, anything that moved around him and, if Cal wasn’t careful, Grogu would have something in his mouth by the time he opened his eyes -or by the time BD-1 gave him a little warning beep saying that yes, it was happening again.
But he was a fast learner. Got the basics down pretty quickly, jumping from one place to another and dodging attacks from the training remote. Cal tried -and failed- to get him to understand a bit of Droid, but he was still too young to discern particular same-sounding sounds.
And, for a while, everything was fine. Grogu kept himself grounded. Eager to learn and play with BD-1 when time allowed. Listening keenly to Cal’s lessons and giving him small coos in acknowledgement. Grogu seemed… happy, but there was something amiss. Something that had always been in the back of his mind.
It was there when his hand brushed against Grogu’s sleeve back in the elevator. Painful memories of times long past had flooded Cal’s memory in an instant. He saw Jedi Masters dropping to the floor in an effort to protect their Padawans as Grogu simply stared. Helpless. Powerless. Fear reigning over him. Images far too similar to the vision Cal once had of Padawans being struck down, his name chocking out of their lips, blaster fire everywhere. And, him, on his knees, succumbing to a dark fate.
Cal saw it again when he picked up a silver sphere on the floor in Grogu’s room that he’d, somehow, managed to sneak into his pocket when he whisked him away. It once shone on the cockpit of a ship, the Mandalorian’s harsh voice saying it was not a toy before taking it back from his small hands. Then, another image of the Mandalorian unscrewing it so Grogu could play with it. A simple gesture born of pure intentions and affection. And Grogu refused to let it go. It was always there, on the nightstand. A painful reminder of his time with his father.
Grogu eventually told him about his relationship with the Mandalorian. How he’d saved him. Nurtured him. How he was like a father to him and, after spending so many cycles together, his absence ran deep. Deeper than he thought it would. Their bond was strong, clouding Grogu’s concentration when he caught a sliver of silver from the Mantis landing near them. Thinking it was him. That he’d come to see him. That he didn’t abandon him.
Cal didn’t remember his family like that. The bond was there, yes, but it didn’t set his heart ablaze like it did to Grogu, and he wasn’t sure it that was something that could be changed. Or that Grogu truly wanted to change.
Cal wanted to rebuild the Jedi Order. He really did. But not like this.
“Grogu?”
He looked up at Cal from his position on the ground, BD’s content noises and Grogu’s soft laugh echoing in the room. Cal kneeled until they were at eye level, gaze soft.
“Do you really want to be here?”
Grogu slowly blinked at him, confusion on his mind until Cal pulled out the silver sphere from his pocket, presenting it to him.
“Or would you rather be with your father?”
His thoughts were fumbled now. Father. Kind. Jedi. Foundling.
“Let the Force guide you, Grogu, and tell me what you want.”
Cal got his answer soon enough.
Finding the Mandalorian was no easy feat, but word traveled fast of a Jedi looking for a Mandalorian fully clad in beskar and, now, they were right in front of the other, BD-1 resting on his shoulder, Grogu, in his arms.
“Is something wrong?”
“No, it isn’t.” Cal replied. “Grogu decided to forgo his training, and I wanted to respect his wishes.”
He gently let the child on the ground, watching as he eagerly jumped into the Mandalorian's arms.
“I missed you too.” The Mandalorian said with a chuckle, but the sentiment was short-lived as he mulled over what was happening. He looked at Cal as Grogu made himself comfortable in his arms, brows furrowed. “I was told he had to be with his kind.”
“Maybe Mandalorians are his kind. He's a foundling, after all.” Cal smiled and, after glancing at Grogu, said: “I hope we see each other again.” And, to the Mandalorian: “Take care of him.”
The smile never left his lips as he turned back to the ship. BD-1 gave them his version of a goodbye before addressing Cal.
“Yeah, I also think we made the right choice, buddy.” He gave the droid a little pat on the head, determined to wait as long as it took for the Force to place a youngling on his path again.