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"I know where your son is."
The air ripples around Din, bad enough that a mortal could see it. Luckily there aren't any allowed in Boba's room, barring Fennec. Neither of them wants to deal with that.
"Yavin 4," Boba continues, watching him carefully as the ripples echo the name. "We can leave anytime."
Anytime, anytime, the air chants. Din breathes it silent.
"Unless you'd like to go on your own," Boba says, "Wouldn't blame you."
"If you want to go," Din replies, "I know you...don't like Jedi."
How cute, trying to make Boba sound mild.
"It's important to you," Boba says, "Besides, I haven't met the child properly."
Din removes his helmet. Three sets of pretty brown eyes look at him like a baby tooka. It's uncannily adorable. Fennec herself would probably melt at the sight.
"You got a little..." Boba points to his own face.
Din blinks hard. The eyes blend back into his skin, freeing his forehead to touch Boba's. "Thank you," he murmurs.
Boba traces his cheekbone. Warm, whispering pores. Din really needs to learn control, but Boba doesn't blame him for slipping now. It's been nearly a year since he's seen his child.
"We leave in ten," Boba says.
Din's teeth nearly tear his lips apart.
Din had gotten a new ship just last week, paint still glistening off her glyphs. She's been named Razor Crest II, showing her pilot's creativity at its finest. But Boba and Fennec have made their jabs.
Well, Fennec's never quite done. For once, she doesn't say it, or rather she doesn't get to: Din's already onboard before she can wish him safe travels. She and Boba clasp elbows, and soon enough he and Din are rocketing out of atmo.
The entire trip has Din doubting and anticipating in turns. Boba reasons with him for a bit before simply repeating, "You know what I think" whenever Din voices another ridiculous thought like Jedi forbid attachments. As if that matters to them. Jedi might be Force-sensitive, but they are still very much mortal. Din can be too concerned with such things.
Finally, Din falls silent. It's almost worse.
The landing's barely done and Din's at the ramp. Boba saunters after, victory in his bones.
Until he sees the Jedi.
Din hadn't given him a name. Just The Jedi. Boba supposes Fennec had thought he did and, knowing the public story, hadn't brought it up.
"You didn't tell me," Boba growls.
Din turns.
Skywalker is staring, coiled around the child. Grogu's wriggling in his arms, reaching for Din.
"What do you mean?" Din asks.
Boba lets his beskar and kute take most of the burden of his flesh's reality. "What else could I possibly mean?" In a language of volcanic cadence, he says, "Didn't you see?"
It takes a moment.
Slowly, Din turns back to Skywalker. "Oh."
Boba scoffs. "Oh."
"EH!"
Grogu propels from Skywalker, shooting himself clear across the distance to his father. Din rips his glove off to catch him in a blanket of fur instead of hard armor.
Boba sneers under his helmet. "That's right, Skywalker. He's like me."
Skywalker's expression is the opposite of their first encounter: calm, centered, not confused horror, no whisper of What are you?
"I know," he says simply. "Grogu told me."
Boba clenches on his blaster.
"I've been trying to find you," Skywalker tells Din, "I guess I should've known you'd find us first."
"Was thinking of tracking down Solo next," Boba snaps.
Skywalker gazes at him like a Jedi would. As if he knows everything. Pisses Boba off.
A shadow wraps around Boba's ankle. Eyes blink up at him plaintively, jaws moving around soundless pleas. There is a Gate in those eyes now, one he hasn't seen even in their liminal space.
Behind it are not Din's eyes. Numbing, shivering Knowing lurks there. It does not bore into Boba, nor does it glance. It simply is, the Knowing.
Din cares deeply for his child. Din's father knows this, just as he will know if/when Boba kills the child's teacher. The Presence doesn't feel like a threat, but Boba's scarred nerves quake.
Distantly, he wonders if Din realizes his father is doing this. Yog-Sothoth can be anywhere, anytime, without anything detecting him. He may have been watching Boba this whole time.
Boba looks up. He loosens his grip on his blaster.
Skywalker's hands clasp in front of him. He'd also been hovering over his weapon.
"The Order I'd like to rebuild will allow attachments," he's saying, "You are like a father to him. Your bond gives him strength, just as my bond with my sister gives me strength." He smiles. "I'd rather not be a hypocrite with my students."
"You sure you're a Jedi?" Boba can't help jeering.
"I like to think so."
Din presses his forehead to Grogu's. "Thank you."
"Thank you," Skywalker says, "You protected him. You helped him overcome his fear."
Din rubs one of the child's fingers between his thumb and forefinger. "He helped me too."
"I'd like you to visit him. But we can go over the details later." Skywalker inclines his head. "I will see you soon."
With a last glance at Boba, he walks out of sight. After a few moments, Boba joins Din.
"Grogu," Din says, "This is Boba Fett. He helped me rescue you."
Grogu waves, babbling happily.
Boba smiles. "Yes. It's good to meet you too. Were you surprised at your father's little show?"
"Mmmm!"
Din huffs. "Can you even understand him?"
"Not a word. But you can."
"You know I can't."
Boba sighs and removes his helmet. Grogu cheers as if his face is something to celebrate. Like his father.
"We'll see about that. Grogu, can you answer 'yes' or 'no' questions?"
Grogu nods. Din chokes.
"Did you know your father can use the Force?"
Nod.
"What," Din croaks.
"Why didn't you think of this before?" Boba asks. "He's a smart child."
Grogu pats Din's helmet and coos.
"It's just us here. Perhaps without the beskar on your head, you can sense it better."
"I—"
"Din." Boba taps Din's helmet. "Try."
Din swallows. Looks around. Then, cautiously, removes his helmet. A helpless smile crosses his face when Grogu squeals and snuggles against his cheek.
"Now what?" he asks.
"I'm not Force-sensitive," Boba says, "It's up to you."
"Helpful."
"Yes I am."
Grogu grunts and lightly scratches Din's face. Once he has his father's attention, he leans up. When Din lowers his head, he presses them back together and closes his big eyes.
Boba counts to twenty before Din gasps.
He smirks. "Told you."
"This is..." Din shudders bodily. "This is impossible. There's a Gate in him. He can open it."
"Almost like he can move things with his mind," Boba drawls.
"I can feel him," Din rasps, "I—yes, of course you are. Always. Ni kar'tayl gai sa'ad, Grogu." His breath leaves him, as if he's surprised he's said it. "I should've done it earlier. I just. I didn't think I could call you—" he pauses, eyes distant. Then he laughs wetly. "Suppose I am."
"He callin' you an idiot?" Boba asks.
Din blinks tears from his eyes. "More like 'silly.'"
"Which means idiot."
Din tucks Grogu under his chin. He grimaces. "No, don't go there." He kisses the child's head. "Your grandfather's not something you can see. Not yet."
Grogu makes a disgruntled sound. Boba chuckles and pats his back.
"He's right, little one. An Elder isn't diluted by mortal blood. Train up first."
"Hmph," Grogu mumbles.
Din smiles at Boba, so soft and happy. Boba can't breathe.
"Say, kid. You wanna ride on Boba's back?"
(art by blaiddthewolf)