(Screenshot: The Clone Wars. Raydonian Settlement.)
Pairing: Post Season 2 Din Djarin / force sensitive reader. Soft. Super soft. The beginning of a long haul slow burn. Alternating POV.
Warnings: the acknowledgment of sex.
A/N: Din Djarin has an amazing character arc on The Mandalorian and I’m fascinated with his growth as he grapples with those parts of his creed he feels are worth keeping and those he is learning to let go. I thought I’d give him a motivation and allow you to be a partner for him to explore that with. I also wanted to challenge myself with a structure over all chapters: alternating POV from Din/You/Din.
Summary: Once you were a Jedi, but you’ve long settled into a different life you love. But today is different. Today a Mandalorian comes looking for you.
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PART I: DIN DJARIN.
“This is a weird-looking place; not what I expected.” For most of his life, Din was used to being alone. Then came the kid. Even though the kid was only with him for a short time, he’d gotten used to having someone around to hear him think out loud now and then. Now the kid is gone--to a place that is much better for him--but the Mandalorian can’t quite break the habit and mutters through the modulator for nobody to hear. “She said North Settlement, Raydonia, right? Well, nav says this is it.”
Din eases up on the lever, bringing the Crest II more level for landing. One of the landing struts strains to unfold, and when it finally pops, there’s a sick clunk and the ship jostles a little down and to the side. “Dank ferrik, gotta fix that.” If his old ship was in a sad state, this junkyard find was in a deep depression. Sure, it’s one model newer, but it has obviously been through hell. And some of the buttons are in the wrong places in this version. Another thing to fix. He appreciates Karga’s sourcing it for him, appreciates the gesture of trying to replace his old ride, but wonders how many dozens of bounties he needs to fill to pay it off. After making repairs. And paying off the loan to fit it with a carbonite chamber. And replacing some weaponry…Karga’s got him for life. Bo Katan’s gonna have to wait on that reclamation if she wants him to join up with her faction anytime soon.
The lever sticks. Din curses. The landing is rougher than he’d like, but no damage is done. He brings the gunship to rest just outside of the settlement, but within sight of it, runs the power down sequence, and takes a moment to look out over the neon landscape. There’s a sizeable cluster of tall, domed buildings sticking up in strangely neutral colors against the riot that is the forest here. The trees cuddle thick around the settlement and all the fauna glows in iridescent colors against the night sky. He wonders if he should adjust his visor settings to make the sight less....loud? Meh. He’s tired enough not to bother.
It’s still night on this side of the planet, and he figures he’s got a few hours to hit the rack before going on his next hunt. Can it be called a hunt? It’s the word he’s used to, whether it’s a bounty or no. He sighs as he hauls his ass out of the pilot seat and down into the hull.
The hull is quiet and empty. There are supply crates and empty carbonite frames, all the same clutter as the Razor Crest really. It’s just...empty in a different way. There’s no other living thing here. It’s dim and warm. There’s a soft clicking that gets slower and slower as the engines cool down. And for the first time in a long while, Din stands alone in his ship and hears the soft hiss of the air pressure gauge as he lifts his helmet up and off his head. Turning it slowly in his hands, staring down into the visor, he judges his reflection there. Stars, he needs to cut his hair and shave. The helmet comes off more often since he said goodbye to the kid. Not always. There’s still the creed. But some days, he questions what that creed means now.
Knowing that the settlement is most likely sleeping and that his starboard door is pointed away from it, he opens it to the night. The air here is temperate, sweet, and musky--fruit and flowers--and without the visor filter trying to compensate for the bioluminosity, the colors are deeper, a little less glaring and nauseous. “Still,” he mumbles, “pretty weird.”
Looking through the trees, Din’s eyes glaze and he sighs in his usual exasperation. What is he doing here? He needs to be paying off his debt, not taking mercy missions. But still. Grogu made an impression. And he himself was a foundling. Now that the Mandalorian covert is gone, there’s no good way for him to contribute. This is the best he’s got. This is the way.
And hey. A few short months ago he’d never really heard of the Jedi; now he’s met two. And they’re both...good people. Hearty warriors. Even-keeled and trustworthy. It’s a welcome change from all the lowlife he knocks elbows with on the daily. There’s something of a rumbling excitement in him to meet his third.
“I’m looking for someone,” he tests out under his breath, rolling your name along his tongue so he can get it right. “You know where I can find her?” It’s an interesting name. He looks forward to seeing what kind of person belongs to it.
An animal shifts between the trees and brings him back to the present. Din shuts the door. Placing the helmet down reverently on a crate, he doesn’t even bother removing the rest of the beskar. He’s been traveling for days and the cot in this ship is better than the last one and he’s beat.
“Start at the cantina and work from there. Every settlement’s got one,” his one thought before he’s out.
____
PART 2: YOU.
You’re afraid. Deeply afraid. You are leaning on all of your training to manage your fear. The air is hot and the younglings around you are sniffling and whimpering, but still dutifully trying to manage their own feelings. You are being hunted. These young ones are in danger. There’s no time for questions, there is only instinct and action. The air is so hot, so terribly hot--is something burning? There’s blaster fire in a far away place. You return to each of these things. Your fear. Your training. The fear rising from the younglings around you. The zip of distant blasters. The smell of smoke. The hot, hot air.
And suddenly, you are ducking. And running. Now the cycle of your thoughts roll through: make sure they’re all here, keep an eye on your back, keep low, avoid the flames. After that, there’s just the knowledge that you’re all being pursued. On distant worlds. In hyperspace. The white helmet no longer means comrade, it means death, run, don’t stop running, don’t get comfortable, don’t trust anyone, fight as a last resort, don’t hide, just run.
And then, you look down to the small youngling you are carrying in your arms, and though you struggle to hold him, he moves further and further away into the void and your training fails you and you feel fear and you feel fear and you feel deep, deep fear….
...and your eyes open.
Breathe in.
You are in your bed--your safe, soft bed--with the window open and the red and blue forest waving outside. The beige ceiling. The warm breeze trailing in.
Breathe out.
You feel your brows knit together. You assess.
What...triggered that?
It’s been...how long--years? a decade?--since you’ve had an Order 66 dream. Not that you’d ever fool yourself into believing that you’d never have another, but...it’s been so long. No matter. It’s okay. Let the feeling wash out. It just snuck up on you, that’s all. You are warm here. Safe here. This is your home. Those younglings…. Most of those younglings are safe. Functioning adults by now. Thanks to you. Breathe. The sun is just barely coming up; you can go back to sleep for an hour or two.
Calm.
Calm.
You sigh and let your eyelids drift closed.
A sudden image of a white helmet.
NOPE. You throw the sheets back and you’re up and moving.
The morning light in the main room is soft, filtering in from high-up windows in the dome over your head. You shuffle to the counter and rummage around for the caf, but “blast,” you’re out. You grit your teeth and let escape a frustrated growl, pounding your fist weakly into the counter. This is not how you like your day to start. Rude awakening, no caf, too early, the birds aren’t even singing yet. The irritation rises, and it would feel so good to just break one of the empty cups in front of you….but the next part is automatic. Like a built-in override, you feel the Force rise in you and douse your anger like a wave of calm. It’s okay, it tells you. The caf can wait. You’ll have to get some on the way to the clinic. It’s for the best. You know that’s not really what you need right now. Resigned, and with a tiny hint of residual frustration, you move outside.
The back door whooshes open as you step out into the garden. It’s never too early for training. Train when you’re tired, scared, confused, when you roll your eyes at the thought of it, these are the best times, the times when it is challenging but you need it most. Reach out with your feelings. Feel the Force flow through you. You stand under the brightening sky, feeling the dark, damp grass under your bare feet. Your gaze softens, and you breathe.
There’s a...feeling here.
Curious.
A message in this.
There’s something different. Something will be different today. What is it.
You breathe.
You wonder.
But there are no answers. And that’s irritating.
You make the effort to push the irritation aside. You try to unknit your brow.
It’s okay. You’ll know when you know.
You close your eyes and focus your thoughts.
The white helmet.
Temper your fear.
Why are you seeing this? Why is it visiting you today?
When you tell it to leave, it fades slowly, but does not vanish completely.
“Okay then,” you sigh, beginning to move your body through basic forms, putting energy into the poses, concentrating on the flow of movement. “You’re trying to tell me something. It would be nice if you’d just spit it out. But we’ll do it your way, I guess,” you grumble and submit. “I’m content to know when I know.”
________
The clinic isn’t busy today, but it’s still a slog. Mala keeps running out to keep you in chilled caf, and sometime in the late morning, it finally starts to make an impact. After six or so kids - a couple of pollen rashes, a stomach ailment, and a budroot seed stuck waaaaaay up a nostril - you close the front door and hope for a break.
“You look like skrag. Late night?”
You shoot your friend an incredulous look, and huff in offense. “Thanks. I was just about to comment on how perky your lekku look today, but I think I will just keep that to myself now.”
Mala laughs and flashes you a rude gesture, which has the intended effect of getting you to smile. “But really. I had my eye on you all morning and you’re on your fourth caf. Are you okay?”
“Yeah,” you yawn. “Not a late night; an early morning.” The door slides shut behind you as you both file in to take a quick snack in the exam room. The sound of kids playing in the clinic courtyard filters in through the windows and you keep your voice down to avoid an echo through the dome. “I. Uh. Had a dream about that day in the Temple.”
Mala spins to look at you, mild concern in her face. “Really. After all this time? What triggered that?”
“Huh. That’s the first thing I wondered too. It’s probably nothing. With the high pollen count this year I’ve been working straight through the season. Probably just need a day off.”
Now it’s Mala’s turn to huff. She tosses a fruit at you. “I wish you’d take a day off. I wish you’d take more than a day.” She bears down on you as you scoff and try to waive it off. “No, seriously. When was the last time you had a vacation? Got off-world? Got laid??? If my husband had a brother, I’d force him on you just to help you wind down. You know, Geoffin can arrange something for you, either on Raydonia or off-world, just ask him. He’d do anything for you now that your bar tab is paid down--”
“I know, I know, I just…” you struggle for the words, feeling overwhelmed at the thought of leaving your haven and still a little weirded out by the dream.
You spent years on the run, constantly moving from place to place, but when it was time to leave Raydonia and your corp leader asked who wanted to stay, you were the first to volunteer. It was the plants. The colors. The sweet smell in the air and the way everything slowed down here. The people and their kids. It was so easy--much more than you wanted to admit--to just assimilate. To stay in one place and find family and purpose--things you had in the Order, but with a bit more warmth and a lot more selfish indulgence. There are still days you look to the stars and yearn to be among them, to be traveling...learning...but then you think about all the things you’re still discovering about this planet, of Mala and her welcoming family that’s basically your family, of your friends here, of your regular nights at the cantina, of your cozy little home that’s all your own. It’s easy to become attached. To form deep bonds. But deep down, you know that duty is still in there and you’re a little afraid of how easy it might be to just go and never come back. It’s a thought you often turn away from as soon as it comes on. You wrap yourself back up in your life here.
“It’s safe here. I know the Empire is gone. But. Still. Every time I travel, I feel like I’m always watching my back.”
There is a moment of silence where you can feel Mala’s eyes on you. She knows what you’re thinking. Always. You bite into the fruit to pull focus off yourself. But then she leans in and folds an arm around you, cradling your head against her shoulder and pressing her cheek to your forehead as you chew and swallow. It’s easy to hug her back. It’s a simple and comforting thing; even if you don’t overly need it, you appreciate the care she gives. She is more than your colleague, Mala is the closest thing you have ever had to family, the only sister you have ever known, your oldest friend. Well. The oldest friend that you know is alive and you can still safely be with. She alone holds your secrets. You’ve been on Raydonia long enough that nobody asks questions anymore, but it feels good to have one person that knows you deeply, knows everything about you. Even if the Clones and the Empire aren’t hunting you anymore, you let her keep this information for you, the knowledge of your Jedi past. It bonds you and gives you someone to talk to when dreams come calling. You spent so much of your life putting Force before yourself...you selfishly feel comforted having one person who will force you to make yourself a priority.
“I don’t want to leave here, Mala.”
She rocks you lightly. “I don’t want that either, schutta. Ever. I just want you to let the wind lift you with full sails and without fear.”
Twi’leks really do have a way of putting things sometimes.
She pulls away and grabs your face in both hands. “What is this talk of leaving anyway? I never said ‘leave.’ I said ‘go somewhere and meet new people and don’t think about the clinic while you’re getting your little brain screwed out by some beautiful man.’” She twists up her face and shakes yours, “Or Rhodian. Or Wookiee. Or whatever. Do you like Wookiees? Oh, I can see it in your face, that fur fetish! Tsk. Dirty girl.”
This is why you adore her. This is why you started this clinic with her and trust her so deeply. The care comes so easily and manifests itself in laughter and joy. You fight and you tease, but underneath, there is so much genuine warmth and you treasure it...it is so rare. You wonder if you will ever see its like again.
“Well,” you laugh, “The fur may be the main attraction, but I am all for the opening act of...tall and broad.”
It’s more stupid than funny, but you’re both in the moment. She shrieks as you both crumple, shushing each other and hands to mouths like teenagers as your laughter echoes off the room’s domed walls.
After several moments of resurfacing giggles, you both collapse onto the exam bench and once you are breathing normally again, you sigh and remind her. “I think about it sometimes and it just stops me for a second. I warned you one day I may have to answer the call.”
Mala’s giggles die down a little, her smile just barely fading, but still there as she bites into her own fruit. “Mmm. I know.”
“I don’t know if. I don’t know when. I don’t even know for how long or forever.”
“I know. I know,” she agrees, mouth full, rubbing your shoulder reassuringly.
“You know, you’ve never once said to me, ‘You don’t have to go.’”
“Nope. Do you know why?”
“Because we both know I will anyway.”
“Because we both know you will anyway.”
“I’m sorry. This dream...coming out of the blue...it makes me feel…”
Mala swallows and then nods before reaffirming. “I know. I promise. That’s what I thought too when you told me. But let’s eat and not think too hard about it right now, yes? We can’t live like that. We can only meet it if and when it comes. Like you say. We’ll know when we do. Hand me that budroot.”
You will know when you know. And nobody knows your heart like she does.
At least, not yet.
________
A few hours later, you are finishing up a treatment with a young girl, putting a jar of salve in her mothers’ hands and her giving careful instructions when there’s a whoosh as the door opens and Mala peeks her head in. Her eyes flick between you and the patient, and then she’s gone without a word, the door swooshing back in place. Odd.
“Ssssorry...about that,” you assure the mother. “Do you have any other questions?” There aren’t any, and you bend down to speak directly to the girl. “Will you come back and see me next week?” The girl nods, neither smiling or frowning, just itching the patch of rashy skin on her arm. “Huh uh. No scratching. Be brave and count how long you can go without it. Keep trying to beat your record. Let’s see how high you can count.” A nod from the girl. A smile from the mother. Then they are out the door as Mala slithers past them, entering and pressing the button to close the door behind her, leaning back against it when it does.
“Er...” She looks...what. Scared? Excited? Both? “There’s a...Mandalorian here asking for you.”
“...What?”
“I’ve never seen one with my own eyes before. A Mandalorian. With the helmet and everything.”
Mention of the helmet makes you flinch. “A Mandalorian. For me.”
She nods.
“What do they want?”
“I don’t know. He just said he needed to speak with...well, you, but.... He asked for you by your old name.”
You suddenly feel light-headed and hot. You dropped your Jedi name decades ago keeping just part of it, just enough of it so the right people could still find you, but still just another form of hiding away. You’re sure that name’s not on any registers anymore, but still….“Just one Mandalorian? No squad? Is he a bounty hunter? Does he have a blaster?” Ffft. Stupid question. “I mean, what kind of blaster does he have?”
Mala swallows, half between a giggle and a shiver. “Errr, I don’t know. Hold on.” She hits a button to open the door and once it clears the frame, she slowly peeks around the entry. After a second, she lifts a hand to wave you over.
Ears ringing, you creep up behind her, looking down the darkened passage through the space between her shoulder and lekku. You are almost instantly blinded.
Leaning against the open clinic entryway and looking out to watch the children playing in the courtyard is a pure beam of light, and it takes a moment to realize it’s just the sun shining in and bouncing off silver armor. You blink away the initial blindness and make a split second assessment.
Thumbs hooked in his belt and leaning against the doorframe; relaxed demeanor.
More interested in observing the surroundings than waiting on edge for Mala’s return; no urgency.
Full beskar.
Charges in his bandolier and on the cuff of one boot, but no blaster in the holster.
Armored vambraces most likely hold weaponry though.
Helmet. Helmet helmet helmet.
That’s enough and you pull Mala back from the door as it closes, breathing just slightly faster than you had been before.
For a moment, you stare at each other. She’s looking at you for cues and you can almost hear the script running in her head, is this a bad thing, can you lie to a Mandalorian, what do I say, how can I help….
“Okay, give me a minute,” you tell her, and she’s quiet as you think this one through. Mandalorian. Knows your name. Knows where you are. Blast, he’s probably been asking for you and that means others might have questions about that name now too. Doesn’t matter. You’re not on the run anymore. Or are you? Someone’s come looking. No blaster though. But full armor and not even casual enough to remove his helmet. There are two viable exits if you need them. You shouldn’t need them. But there are two.
You turn on Mala. “How did he sound? When he asked for me? Was he threatening?”
She blinks. “N..no. Just neutral. No greeting, but not rude either. Just asked to speak to you and when I said I’d go see if you’re available, he said ‘thank you’.”
“Right. Well, that’s a favorable sign. A walking mirror with manners. Okaaay. Okay okay. So. Here’s what I want you to do. Tell him to go to Geoffin’s cantina and wait for me there. I’ll come by when we close down here. Just in case there’s trouble, I would rather meet him in public and away from kids.”
“Are you sure? I can just tell him you don’t want to talk to him.”
“I doubt that will stop him and he’d just try another time. And...well, to be honest...now I’m curious. But this will get him out of here for now and give me an hour or two to decide what I want to do.”
_____
An hour later, you’re kneeling by your bed at home. There’s a hidden compartment built into its base that you haven’t opened in a while. Haven’t needed to. Wanted to though. A Jedi’s lightsaber is an extension of themselves and although you’ve gotten used to the sensation over the years, it still feels a bit like walking around with missing a limb when you don’t have it on you.
Sliding the panel open, you take up the familiar hilt, and feel a soothing wholeness. Just the right thickness and length for your grip. Simple, elegant. The metal isn’t cold, but neither will it heat up with the blade on. It is always the warmth of your own hand, it shares your own body’s vibration. You close your eyes and press it to your forehead like the old friend that it is, your one physical connection to your old life.
Then you are on your feet, allowing the Force to flow to the blade and there it is, the soft audible scrape as it extends, the low frequency hum that runs through your whole being, and the hue of light that connects straight to your heart.
“He said he’d wait for you there.” Mala had said. “I tried to tell him where the place was, but he’d already been there and knew of it. Looks like we know who told him where to find you.” She watched you sigh. “You want me to come with you?”
“No. He has some agenda and I doubt it’s violent, but if it is, I don’t want you anywhere near that.”
“Weird day for that dream, huh.”
You did not answer this. Something was different about today. This may be it. It may not be.
“Well,” she continued, taking your hand and placing something in it, “let me know either way. I won’t be able to sleep until I know you’re okay.”
You looked down to see your fingers curled around a long-range comlink. “You mean you’re nosy and you want to know what’s going on.”
“That too.”
“I can take care of myself, schutta.”
“I know you can. But maybe, just to be safe, you should go grab your little laser friend.”
A small smile slides across your face. You retract the blade and, throwing on a cloak, head out to the cantina.
____
PART 3: DIN.
“You want me to get you something else, friend?” the Ithorian calls warmly from across the cantina. Din has been sitting here an hour or two with an untouched drink in front of him. He took the furthest booth from the door, but even so, the place isn’t very big. It’s dim, though, that’s something. Easier to blend in--that is, as much as a fully armored man in a rural city can blend in. He tilts his helmet, waves a gesture at the barkeep, one that tells him no, he’s fine, thanks.
Din has been watching the people in this settlement. Peaceful. Familial. Laid back. Utopian, even. He can see the appeal of settling down here. How much rest it would afford. They don’t stop when he passes by, but they certainly stare. Seems like they’re used to getting people drifting through, but not too much trouble. The cantina is the ground floor of a small inn; just enough rooms to house a handful of off-worlders, but not built for expecting a crowd. Probably used for supply runners and settlement speculators. Although, he’s been sitting here long enough to watch one giddy, young Twi’lek couple pay for a key pass and return it a short time later. The barkeep disappeared for a few minutes after that. Probably to change the sheets.
When the Mandalorian stopped in this morning, he was pleased to find that it was a one-and-done deal; the Ithorian more than capable to give all the info he needed.
“What can I do for you, my shiny friend? Drink? Room?”
“Information.”
“Ah! Well, you’ve come to the right place. If I don’t have an answer for you, I know someone who will.”
“I’m looking for someone.”
A warm, low-frequency rumble emanated from the barkeep as Din repeated your name. “Really. Huh. Well, I only know one of those names, but I think I know who you mean.” He gave the Mandalorian a look over. “What do you want with that one?”
“I have a message from an old friend. And I need her help.”
The barkeep puffed out air from his gills, the translation modulator transforming it into a non-committal “Hmmm.” Turning and continuing his prep for the morning, he spoke carefully to make sure he was understood. “She’s is a good customer of mine. I would hate to see her come to any harm.”
“No harm. I promise.” Din patted the empty holster on his hip. “No trouble.”
“Mmmm. Well.”This seemed to satisfy him. “Old friend, you say? I didn’t realize she had friends from the old days. She doesn’t talk much about her past. I just assumed she did things she wasn’t proud of and wanted to leave them behind. Lots of people here like that. But one good tale deserves another.... What kind of friend are we talking about? Intimate? Imperial? Was she some kind of spy?”
It disappointed Din a bit that this ‘keep was living up to old stereotypes, but that’s why cantinas always make a good first try--gossip brought information. At least he was friendly. The Ithorian held his breath as Din’s reached into a belt pouch, but let it out as the Mandalorian’s hand came back with credits that clinked onto the bar.
“Unfortunately, this is all I have to offer.”
“Right. Of course. Well, I guess it’s a good sign that you want to protect her secrets. That counts for a lot.” He scraped the credits into his hand. “You’ll find her at the clinic. It’s a lower building in the old part of the settlement. Take the main path to the end and turn right until you get in the shadow of the hills. It’s about a 15 minute walk from here. You’ll know it when you see it; pretty run down, but the courtyard’s kept up nice. She runs the place with a pretty Twi’ girl named Mala.”
“She’s a healer?”
“Something like that. She tries to help. Mostly kids.”
“Huh.” Din turned to go. “Thanks.”
“No problem! Come back any time! Double drinks for guests at dusk!”
Dusk is now coming on and the cantina is slowly filling. Residents come in and look over to Din’s booth, shooting him a disappointed glance. Apparently, he’s taking up a favorite table. Nobody seems to want to call him on it though. That’s for the best.
By the time the place is at peak occupancy, a woman in a light cloak walks in, bellies up to the bar, and Din’s focus clicks onto her. Onto you. You’re alone. You’re the right age, right xeno. You’re....pretty. Huh. He hadn’t expected that. He’d found Ahsoka attractive, but in a hard way, a warrior way, someone who’s been through war and undercover ops, always ready for the tables to turn. But you...are...softer. Healthy. Your hair is loose and moves with the breeze coming through the windows. It catches the dim light and shines with it.
He knows your name. It’s a good name. It suits you.
Focus.
He guesses correctly that this is the Jedi he’s waiting for.
Din lounges in the booth, taking up more than his fair share of space, and quietly observes your transaction at the bar:
You smile and lean forward over the bar when the Ithorian greets you. Even though he can’t hear the conversation through the noise of the other patrons, Din can pinpoint the moment when the barkeep tells you there’s someone waiting in the far booth. Barkeep’s head tilts slowly in his direction and your eyes go down to the bar to use your periphery to make a quick look. But then your eyes dart sharply to the barkeep when he next speaks. Hmm. Barkeep makes an apologetic gesture and slides a drink into your hands. You down it, never taking eyes off your bartender friend, and slide the glass back, giving him a level nod. Then, without hesitation and a thrilling confidence, you turn and stride toward Din’s booth.
His first instinct is to incline toward you as you decisively and aggressively place both hands on the table. But he curbs this, keeping his relaxed posture. His second nature; never let them see you react.
“So. What’s this all about. You spread my name all over town, you come to my clinic….You got a bounty on me or something? Because I won’t come quietly.” This is also not what Din expected. Your voice is slow and low, but your eyes are fire, and burning right through the visor into his.
“I...didn’t know that you went by an alias.”
Your lips press together in clear irritation. This isn’t going well. The visor picks up something metal concealed in your clothing. Long. Thin. He’s not encountered many Jedi, but he knows enough.
“You brought a weapon.”
“You’re not my first Mandalorian.”
Before he makes this worse he should get to the point. “Look. I’m going to reach into my belt for something. It’s not a weapon. I brought a message.” With one hand, he fishes for the holopuck, holding the other hand up to show no harm. Once the puck is on the table, he continues, “I can’t turn it on, it’s password-locked.”
“What’s the code?”
“I don’t know. But she said you would. She told me to tell you, ‘you’ll know when you know.’”
And now, Din watches your face.
It softens completely as your brow lifts. Your jaw relaxes, pulling apart your pretty lips. He hears you whisper one hoarse word, barely audible over the crowd….
“Snips.”
The holo comes to life, but Din’s eyes don’t leave you. He notices how your chest hitches as you catch your breath. The sound of your gasp as the first words play, “Long time, my friend.” And, unexpectedly, something protective in him burns a little when your eyes lift to his and a tear spills out as you recognize the holo image of a smiling Ahsoka Tano.
______________
Chapter 2: The Recruit --->
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I was doing research for an entirely different post and I just...couldn’t leave this scene alone. There’s just too much going on here for me *not* to dip my oar.
So Maul goes to Raydonia and terrorizes the populace in order to send a “message” to Obi-wan at the end of TCW Season 4:
First of all, the panel where Maul says, “face me,” is interesting as Maul is directed away from Obi-wan as Obi-wan looks at Maul’s back, perhaps in facing Maul’s back, he is looking at the past, or, more specifically perhaps not being able to look at his past he cannot face Maul’s holoimage dead-on.
Secondly, this is such an obvious setup. (I know, I know. “Spring the trap.”) But Maul’s hilarious line in Twin Suns really shows us how much he not only knows Obi-wan, but the Jedi at this point (and in Rebels, he contrives this plan because it has worked twice already, on Raydonia and later, Mandalore):
Although this is not the point of this post, you have to laugh. Maul and Obi-wan, to some degree, have been dancing the same tango for over 20 years and the only time there had been a misstep, so to speak, was when Obi-wan left Ahsoka in charge of the second attempt at a Mandalore occupation instead of going himself. But otherwise, geez, no wonder Maul ended up in Obi-wan’s arms at the end of it all, just like a “dip” maneuver at the end of a dance as mentioned above. (They *know* each other’s moves, flit between lead and follow, and if you take this metaphor to its conclusion, then you realize Maul went to Tatooine, sought Obi-wan not because he wanted Luke, but because he wanted closure, knowing what closure would mean in that circumstance.)
But I’m getting off-topic. Maul goads Obi-wan by threatening to burn Raydonia to the ground and Obi-wan, of course, being of “noble heart,” immediately proclaims that he has to go. Alone, of course.
Mace, being the only voice of wisdom in this room, offers a sound strategy:
Obi-wan immediately rejects this perfectly viable option.
This justification is bullshit. Obi-wan is known for being a master tactician and yet he’s refusing Mace’s offer of backup? First of all, between the two of them alone, I’m certain they could have come up with a decent plan. Secondly, Obi-wan had to know that Maul wasn’t going to keep his word. Raydonia was going to burn, regardless of whether Obi-wan came alone or not.
And, in fact, here is Exhibit A of Raydonia burning:
Even if he isn’t fully aware of this, I posit that Obi-wan rejects Mace’s offer not because he wants to save Raydonia on the premise of a very false promise (if he were truly concerned about Raydonia, he would have taken the task force), but because, as the title of this episode suggests - he wants revenge.
And I doubt Obi-wan even admits this to himself, using his “noble-heart” to justify going to Raydonia alone to face a massive threat to both the Republic and Jedi in the middle of a war headed by the Sith.
By every logical, tactical measurement, Obi-wan should have taken backup. And he outright refuses it because of a personal vendetta. I have more to say about this in another post, but his actions here seem to be part of this cycle of “fall” and “absolution” that Obi-wan goes through in TCW, each “fall” going lower, each act of contrition more extreme. (And it plays into a theory I have that if the war had continued, if events had been just a little different - Obi-wan would have fallen and Dooku would have eventually gotten his most prized pupil.) It also says a lot that in the mirrored situation during the “Siege of Mandalore” arc, Ahsoka is only able to capture Maul because she brought the backup. Or, more precisely put, because Obi-wan authorized the (illegal) backup of he 501st.
Mace, however, isn’t swayed by Obi-wan’s pretty terrible argument. (And for pretty damn good reason.)
But here is where it gets truly bizarre.
What the hell, Yoda? I was trying to figure out the thought process that would lead to Yoda authorizing this. Clearly, it’s not stemming from any military advantage or even thought towards the people of Raydonia. They’re already burnt to the ground, both in Maul’s mind and the Council’s mind (despite Obi-wan’s thin rationalizations).
So then why? If I start with the really wild speculation, I suppose I could say that Yoda had someone form of...Force premonition that Obi-wan going alone to Raydonia would lead to an intervention by Ventress (who Yoda did sense was kicking and ambivalent about her role in the war) which would lead to Ahsoka’s trial and eventual acquittal which would lead to Maul being captured on Mandalore which would lead to the Duel on Malachor which would lead to Luke finding Grogu -
Yeah, you know what?
NO way that’s true. Not even Palpatine could see that far into the future so I can BS on that idea.
So why send Kenobi alone?
I think this harkens to what we see later during the “Wrong Jedi” arc.
If Ahsoka’s trial was her great test, then Maul’s reappearance was Obi-wan’s. Both Mace and Yoda have to know that Obi-wan was teetering on the Dark Side when he beat Maul all those years ago (in fact, the TPM novelization basically states Obi-wan harnesses some Dark Side to beat Maul in his rage.) Mace wants to bring backup, for very practical reasons but also probably keep tabs on an Obi-wan who was at severe risk of becoming unbalanced.
Yoda, on the other hand, sends Obi-wan alone to face his past, to face his darkness and overcome it (in the middle of a war with the Sith where the balance of power could have shifted significantly if Maul and Dooku and Sidious were able to coexist in the same room without the threat of first-degree murder).
And here’s the thing. Both Obi-wan and Ahsoka FAIL this test. Ahsoka walks away from the Jedi, Obi-wan gets the snot pounded out of him, taps into his rage (this is not a man in control of himself),
...and then lets a war criminal go free in exchange for her help, all of which set up the disaster that Mandalore becomes in later seasons. In fact, Obi-wan doesn’t pass this supposed test until over 20 years later, on Tatooine. And...is it worth everything that occurred between this episode and “Twin Suns”? Could Yoda have foreseen all of this? Highly unlikely. It’s nice poetry, but at what cost?
Which leads to another interesting observation - if Yoda feels this is Obi-wan’s test, then both he and Mace feel Obi-wan is more than capable of flirting with the Dark Side. (Yes, all Jedi are, of course, but this seems rather pointed for a man who is considered the pinnacle of Jedi-ness). Again, I have another long post gestating about this topic, but I doubt Mace and Yoda didn’t notice some signs of Obi-wan’s slow fall and attempts at absolution (it’s almost like the habits of an addict - fall, swear off the sauce, and than fall again, even lower) throughout TCW, but between the pressures of the war and trust in Obi-wan, they didn’t see it as a huge threat.
So after Obi-wan leaves for his Revenge Tour, Mace explains, rather diplomatically, that he thinks Yoda’s idea is hot garbage and that his (Maul’s) -
Yes, and Obi-wan at least does learn from this, as stated above...eventually.
Oh, Yoda. This is where I feel the Coucil lost their way. Again, Dooku’s famous quote about Yoda and the Council from the Clone Wars novelization:
"The Jedi Order's problem is Yoda. No being can wield that kind of power for centuries without becoming complacent at best or corrupt at worst. He has no idea that it's overtaken him; he no longer sees all the little cumulative evils that the Republic tolerates and fosters, from slavery to endless wars, and he never asks, 'Why are we not acting to stop this?' Live alongside corruption for too long, and you no longer notice the stench."
It could be argued that Yoda is placing this “test” of Obi-wan above the people of Raydonia, hell, the entire Republic, in priority. Raydonia is collateral damage, and if Obi-wan fails his test, so are many planets in the Republic (which is *exactly* what played out). I suppose, in the very end - again, 20 years later on Tatooine - this was resolved and Luke Skywalker was saved to eventually help redeem his father and destroy Palpatine but...that only really makes sense in hindsight and overlooks the bad decisions the Council and specifically Yoda, are making in real-time.
And Mace is not convinced here. Too many things could go wrong. Maul could escape. Obi-wan could be killed. Obi-wan could possibly turn, or at least “darken,” so to speak.
“Trust in the Force,” Mace might say, “but all others pay in credits.”
