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Din strode through the streets of the market, pace slow and calm, and with Grogu comfortably stowed away in the bag slung across his shoulder. The people in the market stared, not used to seeing a fully armed Mandalorian walking so casually through their streets. Some stared in fear, others in awe, but they all moved out of his way as he marched confidently through the crowd.
The market was bustling with life. People of all walks of life were stopping at various stalls, looking at anything that caught their interest. Din had stopped here to resupply. They were on a backwater planet far on the edges of the outer rim, taking some much-needed time to themselves after Mos Espa. Din perused the stalls, keeping an eye out for any toys the kid might like.
Out of the corner of his eye, Din spotted a clothing stall. The owner wasn’t there at the moment, but that wasn’t what caught his attention. Sitting innocently on the stall’s table was a robe - a robe in a painfully familiar shade of red.
Grogu cooed up at him inquisitively, likely sensing that something was up. Din patted his head reassuringly and moved closer to the table to get a better look. The robe sat innocently among others of varied colours. Din’s breath hitched for a moment, memories that he had fought to repress shoving their way to the forefront of his mind.
“Let’s go, ad’ika. I think it was just a coincidence,” Din said, more to himself than to Grogu. He turned around, ready to go look for a stall selling medical supplies.
“Excuse me, sir? Were you looking for anything?” Din froze. The voice, though one he now only heard in his dreams, whispering soft words of reassurance, was one he would recognize anywhere. He was afraid to turn around. Maybe he had misheard through his helmet’s audio filters. Maybe he was imagining things. There was just no way. He didn’t want to get his hopes up. He mustered up what little courage he had, and slowly turned around.
It was her. Her hair had long since gone silver, and there were far more wrinkles on her face than he remembered, but it was unmistakably her. Still wearing the red robes of his home-world was Din’s birth mother, Raynn Djarin. She stared innocently up at him, completely unaware that beneath the helmet was her son.
This was impossible. Moments after they had placed him in that bunker on Aq Vetina there had been a huge explosion. Had his parents managed to make it to safety before that? But where would they have gone? Din had many questions, so many things he wanted to say, but his mouth felt dry. He wanted so badly to just rip the helmet off right there, to say it’s me, it’s Din, but he was frozen in place.
A quiet coo from beneath his cloak startled him out of his thoughts. Din’s mother’s gaze moved from his visor to Grogu who was now peaking out of his bag. Her eye’s widened and then a warm smile spread across her face.
“Oh, were you looking for something for your little one? We have plenty of clothes that should fit someone their size,” She offered. Din looked down at him. Grogu was attempting to crawl his way out of the bag and was reaching for the table. Din plucked him out of the bag and held him close to his chest.
He considered his mother’s words for a moment. Maybe he should get the kid an extra set of robes. But that could wait. He debated leaving right then and there. But he knew he would regret it for the rest of his life if he did. He braced himself.
“Actually, I would like to speak to you. In private,” Din said. He winced as his mother’s face paled, eyes wide in fear. “It’s nothing to worry about, I promise.”
He knew that he looked intimidating. He was a Mandalorian who was armed to the teeth with deadly weapons. Mandos had a reputation, one that Din actively perpetuated on an almost daily basis. He should have been more careful with his wording.
His mother’s wary gaze flickered from the blaster strapped to his hip, to the rifle slung along his back, to Grogu held gently against his chest. She nodded hesitantly, beckoning him to follow her into the house behind the stall.
Din followed her into a small quaint living room. It was sparsely decorated, but clearly lived in and filled with old relics of Aq Vetina. He stood awkwardly in the middle of the room, unsure of how to proceed. His mother motioned him to sit. Din unstrapped his rifle and placed it delicately on his lap as he sat on the couch.
“Can I get you or the little one anything to eat or drink?” Grogu perked up at the mention of food.
“Nothing for me, thank you. But maybe something small for the kid,” Din spoke quietly. His mother smiled nervously and went into what Din assumed was the kitchen to prepare a snack. He tried desperately not to think about the strangeness of the situation and worked to get his breathing under control.
She returned a few moments later with a small plate of crackers. Din set Grogu down in front of the plate.
“K’epar, ad’ika,” Din commanded softly. Grogu was all too happy to comply and began munching on the crackers. Din’s mother sat in a chair across from him looking at him expectantly.
“So, what can I help you with?”
This shouldn’t have been so hard, but a small part of Din was worried. Would she recognize him? What would she think of her son becoming a bounty hunter? There was only one way to find out.
Din took a deep breath before lifting his hand to the release button on his helmet and slowly pulling it off his head. The cool air hit his skin like a slap to the face. Din flinched. He tried calming himself down. This is your family, your aliit. They are allowed to see your face. They have seen your face.
Din lifted his eyes and stared directly at his mother. A gasp. Her eyes watered and she held her hands to her mouth in disbelief. Did…did she recognize him? After all these years? Silence stretched between them. Din felt his own eyes watering.
“Din?” She asked, voice filled with trepidation. He nodded, fighting back tears with everything he had. His chest felt tight, his lip wobbled.
He was a warrior reduced to nothing.
His mother stood from her chair and crouched in front of him. She gently cupped his face in her soft, gentle hands. A hesitant smile bloomed across her own. Din found himself smiling too, tears streaking down his cheeks His mother drank in his features, her hands caressing his stubble before she pulled him into a deep embrace.
Din sagged into his mother’s arms, tucking his face into her shoulder, the gesture familiar and comforting even after all this time. The two just let the emotions flow out of them, both now sobbing with equal fervour. Din let himself be in the moment, truly acknowledging that his birth mother was alive. Din felt lighter than he had in years.
He fiercely gripped the red robe on his mother’s back, almost afraid to let go in case she suddenly disappeared. She murmured soft assurances to him. I’m here, it’s okay. We’re okay.
The two were broken out of their embrace by the sound of little claws clanging against beskar.
Grogu was looking up at them curiously, his little brown robe covered in cracker crumbs and small arms outstretched in the universal sign for pick me up please. Din sniffed and wiped his eyes before reaching down and picking him up.
“Trikayc, ad’ika,” Din said softly.
“And who might the little one be?” His mother asked, watery smile never fading.
“This is Grogu my…son,” Din said, no small amount of pride in his voice. Grogu cooed up at him, question obvious. “Yes, ad’ika, that’s your ba’buir.”
“Ba booeer?” His mother asked.
“It means grandparent in Mando’a,” Din said with a smile. His mother barked out a watery laugh.
“It seems we have much to catch up on…” Her voice trailed off and Din didn’t need to guess at what she was thinking about. Din nodded, subconsciously cradling Grogu closer to his chest.
“I thought…I thought you both were dead. There was an explosion, and a droid found me, and I-” Din cut himself off. “How did you survive?”
His mother was silent for a moment. She held Din’s gloved hand tight, refusing to let go of her long-lost son for even a second.
“After we put you in that bunker, we ran. But we weren’t fast enough. The explosion hit, but luckily, we were far enough away that we only got knocked out. When we woke up, the town was in ruins, entirely empty. There was nothing left. We went back to the bunker, to look for you. But you weren’t there. At first, we assumed the worst, but there was no body. We…we allowed ourselves to hope that you had been saved. That hope is what kept us going over the years, the hope that maybe - somehow - we would find you again,” She explained softly. A wry smile crossed her face. “Of course, we didn’t think it would have taken nearly this long.”
Din sat with the information for a moment, running it through his head. They had come back for him. They had looked for him. Then it hit him. His mother had said we. Did that mean-
The front door opened. Din fought the instinctual urge to reach for his blaster. “Honey, what are you doing in here? There’s someone outside looking to buy-” Din’s eyes connected with his father’s.
Din could now see how his mother had recognized him so quickly. He was virtually a carbon copy of his father, just with his mother’s softer jawline and eyes. Hal Djarin had also greyed and wrinkled, but the resemblance was too close for him to be anyone but Din’s father.
“Din?” His father asked incredulously.
“Yeah,” Din confirmed, his voice hoarse. His father walked up to him before swooping down and hugging him fiercely. Din felt himself starting to cry all over again. After a moment his father released him and instead held him out at arm’s length, taking him in.
“Look at you, you’re all grown up. I don’t understand. How are you here? Where were you?” His father asked, fighting back his own tears.
“It’s…a long story.”
“Honey, how about you go close the stall? I’ll make us all some tea. Din, would Grogu be okay with some milk?” His mother inquired. Din tilted his head to look at Grogu.
“You want some milk?” Grogu nodded enthusiastically. “That would be a yes, thank you.”
His mother smiled warmly at him before reluctantly heading back into the kitchen while his father went back outside to close up the stall.
Din took a moment to collect himself. He felt like a complete stranger in front of his own parents. He didn’t know them, and they didn’t know him. He had adopted an entirely different culture and way of life. Would they accept that? He was overjoyed to know that his parents were alive, but he had his own life now, one that he didn’t ever want to give up. But now that he had them back, he wanted to still be a part of their lives. He felt torn.
His father came back inside a few moments later and came to sit next to him on the couch, taking in Din’s shiny armour with wide eyes.
“I have so many questions, but I guess the first would be about this little guy.” Grogu peered up at Hal.
“Grogu is my son. Do…do you want to hold him?” Din asked hesitantly. His father’s eyes widened.
“I-yes! Yes. I just, wow. I didn’t think I would ever be a grandfather,” he choked on the last word as he reached out for Grogu. The heavy weight in those words was not lost on Din. Hal gently pried him from Din’s hands and held him in the crook of his arm. “Hey there, little guy. Does he speak yet?”
Din considered the question for a moment, tilting his head. “Not quite. He can understand me well enough, and I’ve been trying to teach him Mando’a. Some of the words are easier for him to say than in Basic. He seems to respond to both.”
“Bah bu?” Grogu asked, pointing a small claw at Din’s father. Din smiled fondly.
“Lek, ad’ika. Ba’buir,” He answered.
Din’s mother came back in holding a tray with three steaming mugs of tea and a small cup of milk. Din gratefully accepted a mug, letting his father hand Grogu the cup of milk. Grogu sipped at the milk carefully, looking at Din for approval, and Din smiled.
“Jat’ad.” His mother smiled at him, and Din could feel his cheeks heating up. He almost wished he was still wearing the helmet so that no one could see him blush.
“Why don’t you tell us where you’ve been all these years?” She asked. Din took a deep breath and began.
He recalled everything from the moment he was placed in the bunker. The droid, his rescue, all of it. He described growing up with his tribe on Concordia, learning how to fight and defend himself. He spoke about taking the Creed, and the Purge, and his tribe’s flight from Mandalorian space. And then he got to the part he was most nervous about.
“My tribe and I had a covert on Nevarro. We lived underground and only one person at a time was allowed to go above ground, and that was usually the tribe’s beroya, the bounty hunter. The beroya provided for the tribe, it is considered the highest honour. When I was of age and our last beroya was…gone, I took up that mantle. I got my own ship and worked as a bounty hunter. And I was good at it - am good at it,” Din gulped and looked nervously at his parents.
Din had long since come to terms with the realities of being a bounty hunter. It was a noble profession to Mandalorians, but he wasn’t so dense to think that average civilians would be as comfortable with the concept of hunting and killing for money.
His parents were definitely looking at him differently, though Din couldn’t tell what exactly was running through their minds. He saw his mother glancing at his rifle and the blaster at his hip. Din shifted in his seat, feeling more uncomfortable than he had ever felt in his life. It was a foreign concept to him to be judged for carrying so many weapons when for so long everyone around him had revered them. Din decided to change the subject as best as he could.
“Anyways, that’s where this little one comes in,” Din continued.
He skimmed over small details, but he made sure to include all the important parts. He talked about finding Grogu, about the mudhorn and the jawas, about his greatest sin. He spoke about Sorgan, meeting Cara, Peli, the battle against Gideon on Nevarro, finding the remains of his covert, and more. He spoke of his hunt for jedi and other Mandalorians, krayt dragons, fights with imperials, and finally, giving Grogu up to Luke Skywalker. He didn’t mention the darksaber, or that he was technically Mand’alor, a fact that he himself was vehemently trying to ignore.
When he finished his story, he looked to his parents who were staring at him with a mix of disbelief, shock, and sadness. Din shifted uncomfortably. He didn’t know what he wanted or expected from them. Whatever it was, it wasn’t this.
“Oh, Din. We’re so sorry. We wished every day that things had turned out differently,” His mother said sympathetically, reaching across the small table and placing her hand gently on his knee. And there was the issue.
“I understand that to an average civilian, I have had a rougher life than most, but I’ve never regretted the way things turned out. Had none of this ever happened, I wouldn’t have met Grogu. He’s my greatest joy and I wouldn’t trade him for anything.”
Din chose his next words carefully.
“I don’t want you to feel bad about what happened. Sure, sometimes I think about what life would be like had things gone differently - and I do admit that it would have been nice, and it is sad that things happened the way they did, but right now, I’m happy. I have a good life, and I’m glad that you both can now be a part of it,” Din stated.
His mother smiled at him before glancing at his helmet that sat on the table between them, impassive visor seemingly staring into her core. And it was that glance that made Din realise what he needed from them – their acceptance.
“We would love to be a part of your life – dangerous or not. You are our son and nothing in this galaxy could change that,” she said while his father took Din’s hand in his and gave it a squeeze. Din felt a massive weight being suddenly lifted from his shoulders. “Would you and Grogu like to stay here for the night? We have a spare room you can use, and I don’t feel like letting you go just yet.”
Din hadn’t been planning on staying on this planet for very long. It was just meant to be a quick resupply before leaving for Mandalore, but the opportunity to stay somewhere safe for the night was too good to pass up, especially if it meant more time with his parents.
“That would be great, thank you. I’ll have to go get my pack from my ship. This was only supposed to be a quick supply run. Can you watch Grogu? My ship isn’t too far.” Raynn nodded, taking Grogu from Hal’s hands.
“I’ll come with you,” Din’s father said as he stood up. Din nodded and placed his helmet back over his head. He sighed in relief, the beskar shell providing a sense of safety and familiarity.
He strapped his rifle to his back once more. “Ret’ven’gebi, ad’ika,” Din said softly, stroking one of Grogu’s big ears before marching purposefully out the front door.
The market had quieted down some, fewer people walking the streets now that the sun had started setting. Vendors were closing their stalls and packing up their wares for the night. Din would have to buy his supplies in the morning then.
He strode confidently through the market, shoulders back and spine straight, the very picture of intimidation. Hal walked beside him and stared at him in what Din thought was maybe awe, but he couldn’t be sure. They approached the shipyard and Din led them towards the Crest, pressing a few buttons on his vambrace to open the bay door on the side.
“This is my ship,” Din said. He strode up the ramp and motioned for his father to follow him. “You can look around, but don’t touch anything.”
His father gazed at him quizzically, wondering why his own son was treating him like an unsupervised toddler.
“Not only do I have lots of weapons laying around, but there’s also a carbonite freezing system in that wall. I don’t want you accidentally getting caught in it,” Din explained as he opened his weapons locker and grabbed his pack from the hook on the wall. Din’s father stared at his arsenal of blasters and rifles in shock.
“Do you use all of these?” His father asked.
“Not all of them, no. Some are antiques that I keep more out of sentimentality than anything else. Some are just backups that I don’t use unless I have no other choice. Usually my amban rifle and the blaster I have on me are more than enough,” He explained.
“You have so many. It must have taken a long time to collect all of them,” Hal said as he wandered about the ship, taking in his son’s life.
“I’m Mandalorian. Weapons are part of my religion. To some of us this collection is small.” Hal’s eyebrows shot up. Din’s small locker had more weapons than Hal had seen in his entire life.
“Wow...” Hal sighed, “You know, it’s strange seeing your son who you thought you’d never see again have this whole life and culture that you were never a part of.”
Din’s heart softened.
“Yeah. It’s strange for me too if that makes you feel any better,” Din said. His father huffed a laugh.
“Funnily enough, it does. In any case, we’ll navigate through the strangeness together.”
Din smiled and closed the locker with a few taps on his vambrace. He double checked that everything else was locked up, grabbed one of Grogu’s toys from the bunk, and placed it in his pack.
“Alright, I think that’s everything. We can go back,” Din said as he made his way down the ramp. He locked the cargo bay once his father had left and the two began their walk back, more in sync than before.
The sight that greeted them upon walking through the front door made Din’s heart melt a little. Din’s mother was bouncing Grogu on her lap, singing a soft, and strangely familiar, song to him. Grogu’s delighted giggles brightened the room.
Din dropped his pack on the ground, the sound catching Grogu’s attention.
“Bu!” Grogu exclaimed, climbing out of Din’s mother’s lap and racing towards him as fast as he could with his small little legs. Din grinned widely, falling into a crouch to catch the swiftly approaching toddler.
“Ner ad’ika,” Din greeted, embracing the child, and lifting him to cradle him against his chest. Grogu babbled happily in his arms, patting his little claws against Din’s armour. “I hope he wasn’t too much trouble.”
“No, not at all. He’s very well behaved. You’re doing a great job with him,” Din’s mother said with a soft smile. Din grinned before pulling his helmet off, the action feeling easier the second time.
“I’m trying.”
“We have a spare room just through that door, and the ‘fresher is the door on the left,” Din’s mother pointed out. “There should be enough blankets and everything else you may need for the night.”
Din nodded his thanks and cleared his throat. “Well, um. Good night.”
His mother and father both pulled him into their arms, squeezing tightly. Din sank into their embrace again.
“We’re so happy you found us. We’ll see you in the morning, Din,” His mother said gently before placing a small kiss on his stubbled cheek. His father pulled his head down and pressed their foreheads together. He couldn’t have known the significance, but Din did. And it felt like acceptance.