#aran rovhoss

[ermakeys]

An Essential Aspect Of Gravity Is Not Being Afraid To Fall

This is the final chapter, chapter 5.

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

AO3

Chapter 5: Beyond

A final message.

An image of Kaert sprang to life.

Kaert sat in a recliner chair with his feet up and Vaar’ika, stretched out beside him. He smiled as his trembling hands, ran over Vaar’ika’s head and neck. He looked frail and tired, but alive.

“I’ve set up the droid, father,” a voice announced. The speaker was out of view of the camera and Kaert looked up with a small frown. “I have some work to do, so I will go into my office and return in an hour.”

Kaert shook his head and muttered, “I don’t see why I should make this. I’ll be off-world again soon.”

“You promised you’d only leave if your health improved,” the feminine voice continued in a stern tone. “If your health continues to deteriorate, you’ll thank me for having made this for Aran.”

He grimacede and the woman off-frame sighed. Dimly the sound of footsteps and a door opening and closing could be heard and Kaert grumbled under his breath for a moment before rubbing a hand over his face. He focused on the camera and made another face.

“My name is Kaert of House Rovhoss,” he declared in a slightly petulant tone. “I am making this recording in case my health does not improve and my daughter does not want to be the one to explain everything to my grandchild why I did what I did.”

He smirked.

“Aran, by the time you see this you’ll be a fully recognized member of House Rovhoss. Mandalore will have gained a new warrior that the Duchess will need to be wary of,” he drawled and scoffed at the mention of the ruler of Mandalore. “They won’t be pleased when they see you wearing your beskar, but kark them. House Rovhoss is powerful enough thanks to our role in the war that the current government can complain and that will be all they can do. The New Mandalorians are such hypocrites. Only marginally better than Death Watch.”

Kaert glanced down at Vaar’ika and smiled softly. He rubbed her head and murmured, “When my part in the war was over, I was lost for a while. Vaar’ika helped ground me and yet I felt like I had no purpose. Until you hid on my porch, Aran.

After years of just surviving, I felt alive when I took care of you. I helped forge you into the warrior you became to hunt the monsters that dared darken your life. I had direction and the fire to help change something again.”

He looked up at the camera again with a grin.

“Without you, I would have faded away. I would have been nothing more than a forgotten name in the Rovhoss family register. Remembered only by my daughter and perhaps Jango and his son.”

Kaert let out a bark of laughter, loud enough to startled Vaar’ika. He shushed her, rubbing at her ears until she settled down again and he chuckled, “Boba is a little firecracker just like you. I think you’d get along very well.”

He fell silent for a moment, smiling to himself.

“My fondest memories are of Shevla and you, Aran,” he admitted and lowered his gaze. “Shevla gave me the courage to fight for what I believed in to secure her a future. You needed someone to help you become strong enough to fight your demons.”

He cleared his throat and avoided looking at the camera.

“Both of you have grown to become wonderful and strong children of Mandalore. I am proud to call myself a father and grandfather to both of you.”

He swallowed, opening and closing his mouth a few times.

“And that was also why I had to do this quietly,” he continued, voice cracking with emotions. “I know you have… mixed feelings about Mandalore. By having you become a foundling to Shevla, you will have the right to return to Mandalore, if you ever chose to.”

Kaert slowly raised his gaze to meet the camera and his eyes were wet with unshed tears.

“I am old, Aran. Just like Vaar’ika. Shevla has made a name for herself here and secured our house. You have your friends and connections all over the galaxy and I can’t keep up with you anymore. If anything should happen or you ever need aid, I need to know that someone of mine will be there for you. As a full member of House Rovhoss you gain more rights and protections than you had before.”

He snorted, wiping at his eyes with one hand.

“And some responsibilities unfortunately.”

Kaert sat there for a few minutes, staring ahead and thinking. Finally, he shook his head and grinned.

“Hopefully, you’ll never have to see this silly recording Shevla made me do,” he drawled with a roll of his eyes before sobering with a deep breath. “If you do, well, I will know you forever. I will keep both of you in my heart even beyond this life.”

He sat up with a grunt and frowned at the camera.

“I will attach a file to this recording for you, Aran,” he explained as he pulled a datachip from his pocket. He waved and the camera rolled closer before stopping before him. Kaert fiddled with something before there was a chime of something having been uploaded. “Shevla would find this information interesting, but ultimately useless as she never fully trained in the way of the warrior like you did.”

Kaert smirked down at the camera.

“Just consider this a little gift from your grandfather. Something you could use to change this galaxy for the better if you chose to. No one would miss Death Watch anyway.”

He stared into the camera with a smirk.

The recording shut off.

[ermakeys]

An Essential Aspect Of Gravity Is Not Being Afraid To Fall

This is Chapter 4.

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

AO3

Chapter 4: Mandalore

The bro squad goes to Mandalore and Aran realizes life isn't fair.

The firespray was silent.

Aran sat on the floor of the passenger area, arms resting on their knees and staring straight ahead. They felt so… empty. And full at the same time. So, they sat here. Hoping that it would all go away. That the storm would pass.

Just like when they were little.

They didn’t acknowledged the quiet footsteps of someone approaching. They didn’t react when someone sat down next to them, their shoulder touching Aran’s. They just sat there.

The silence stretched on.

Like the quiet before the storm.

Aran shuddered at that thought. Reminded them too much of the time before their ba’buir. The time before Kaert.

“I don’t want to go back to Mandalore,” they whispered and whoever sat beside them made a humming noise. Aran swallowed, trying to get the words out. They felt like they were choking on them, but they had to come out or they would suffocate under the pressure. “There are too many memories from… from before my ba’buir adopted me. I can’t, but I need-.”

Aran made a strangled noise, bowing their head and resting their helmeted head in their hands. An arm was carefully placed around their shoulders and Aran shuddered under the touch. They didn’t know if they wanted to lean in or rip themself away.

“The New Mandalorians won’t let me into their city,” they rasped and tried to curl up even smaller. “They’ll think I’m Death Watch because I refuse to take off my helmet. And it doesn’t matter how I feel about the karking planet, they won’t let me enter because I’m a True Mandalorian.”

They squeezed their eyes shut.

Their ba’buir had raised them in the fashion of the True Mandalorians. Keeping the helmet on wasn’t one of the tenants of the Super Commando Codex. It was something Aran had chosen for themself. A shield against the world. A shield to protect themself against anything and anyone. They just couldn’t.

“I can try making a few calls. I’m sure the rulers of Mandalore would like to be on the good side of a potential chancellor.”

Chad.

Aran scoffed and their hands curled into fists. The ‘New Mandalorians’ wouldn’t allow it. They were too pleased with themselves and their new form of government that they didn’t even see their own flaws or how rigid and uncompromising they were. No wonder they had problems like Death Watch breathing down their necks.

“Hey, we’ll find a way, Aran,” Chad murmured, giving a light tug. Slowly, Aran slumped into Chad’s side and allowed their friend to wrap both arms around them. “We’ll talk with Purse and Kit when we get close and think of something.”

Chad laughed and shook both of them with the force of his laughter.

“I mean, look at us, bro! Together we helped defeat a sith lord from taking over the galaxy! How hard can it be to enter Sundari?”

Aran couldn’t laugh. They would have before, but with their ba’buir gone now… It felt like all laughter had been sucked out of their chest.

“Why do you think he didn’t tell me?”

They felt Chad take a deep breath beside them.

“I don’t know, bro. You’d know your ba’buir better than I would, but maybe he didn’t want to worry you? Fett said that your ba’buir was missing home.”

Aran snarled, pushing Chad away. They scrambled to their feet and growled, “If he didn’t want me to worry, he shouldn’t have just disappeared! I need him! He can’t just-! I can’t-!”

Aran roared and clutched at their helmeted head, panting and trembling. Keep it together. They had to keep it together. Control. They had to be in control.

“How can he just choose to enter my life and then leave?” Aran demanded and began to stalk back and forth as Chad stood up as well. They pounded a fist against their chest as their voice rose in volume. “He saved me from a father who beat me and a mother who manipulated me! He and Jango were the only ones I had after ba’buir took me away! He named me his child! Helped me choose my name and gave me this karking armor! He taught me everything!”

Aran spotted the pair of pale green canes and grabbed them in one hand before hurling them to the floor and roared, “I fought and bled for him! I would die for him! I love him as my true ba’buir!”

The canes clattered against the durasteel floor and Aran stood over them as they howled, “Did it mean nothing!? Why would he abandon me now? I need him!”

Their chest heaved as they sucked in air. Their entire form shook as they stared down at the pair of green canes. Hidden spears. A gift for helping a village that had been terrorized by a cruel bounty hunter. Aran had hunted down the bounty hunter themself with minimal help from their ba’buir. Kaert had been so proud.

“I need him…” Aran whispered and wrapped their arms around themself. Anything to try and stop the tremors as sobs tried to force their way out. They squeezed their eyes shut in attempt to stop the tears, but they wouldn’t stop. They leaned into Chad when they felt his arms come around them again. “I need my ba’buir, Chad. I’m afraid to face the world without him.”

“We’re here for you, Aran,” Chad mumbled and Aran tightened their grip on him. If they could, they would burrow into him. Hide somewhere where the galaxy couldn’t hurt them again.

“We’re approaching Mandalore,” Kit called from the cockpit and Aran flinched in Chad’s arms. Slowly, they pulled themself away from Chad until the only thing connecting them was Aran’s hand curled in his. They reached for a handle and held on as the ship exited hyperspace with a shudder.

“I’ll find a way for you to be able to enter Sundari, Aran,” Chad promised, tightening his grasp on Aran’s hand. He smiled brightly when Aran scoffed weakly. “Trust me, bro!”

—

Aran thought they were going to pass out when the ramp lowered and they stepped out of their firespray. The glaring sun of Sundari and the arid air made them shudder and they stared at the sight of the Mandalorian city in front of them. Despite being under a dome to shelter the inhabitants from the desert and sun, it was warm.

The sight was revolting.

“Not as hot as Tatooine,” Purse commented as he followed down the ramp, looking around curiously. Chad and Purse had forgone their helmets and Kit followed without his billowing jedi cloak. “Looks nice enough.”

Aran let out a mirthless chuckle.

“Don’t let the pretty veneer fool you,” Aran drawled and narrowed their eyes when they saw their welcoming committee enter the dock they had landed in. “The New Mandalorians may preach peace, but they are just as corrupt and easily twisted as anyone else.”

Kit tilted his head in honest curiosity and asked, “Didn’t the New Mandalorians advocate for peace? Isn’t peace preferable over constant bloodshed?”

“Death Watch was too violent. The New Mandalorians claim they only want peace,” Aran muttered as the welcoming committee came closer. They stepped back to stand behind Kit and slightly to his right. “Yet the True Mandalorians won the Great Clan Wars. All while preaching peace.”

“Welcome to Sundari,” the official leading the welcoming committee declared with a nervous smile. He was flanked by two guards, but despite that protection, he fiddled nervously with his hands. “Duchess Satine could not great Kenobi’s envoys herself, but wishes you have a pleasant stay here.”

Kit folded his hands in the sleeves of his robes and smiled pleasantly.

“Thank you for the warm welcome. It is appreciated.”

The two smiled at each other. And waited. Aran would have been amused by how nervous the official became as Kit simply smiled patiently. Kit had the patience of a sarlacc and could probably outlast all of them if he put his mind to it.

“My apologies, master jedi,” the official stammered with a stuttering laugh. “What is your destination? My orders were to guide you within the city.”

Kit waved one hand and said, “There is no need. I have a guide with me.”

Aran stiffened when the official’s eyes flicked over to them. His expression soured a little as he frowned and he argued, “I don’t think our people would feel easy letting a member of Death Watch-.”

“They’re not Kyr’tsad,” Purse interrupted the official with a sneer. The official’s eyes widened when Purse stalked closer and jabbed a finger at his chest with each following word. “Just. Because. Someone. Wears. Beskar. Doesn’t. Mean. They’re. Kyr’tsad.”

The guards started to move and Purse glared up at them as if daring them to touch him. Until Chad pulled him back and the two began to bicker in hushed whispers. Kit reached back to place a hand on Aran’s shoulder and declared, “Thank you for your kind offer, but as you see we have everything covered.”

The official opened his mouth to say something, but Kit breezed past him, tugging lightly at Aran to follow. They stuck close to Kit’s side as Chad and Purse walked after them and Aran glanced back in time to see Purse make a rude gesture at the official who let out an indignant squeak. That made the frown under their helmet lighten a little and a small smile twitch into place.

“So, where are we headed?” Chad asked as they exited the dock. Aran stared into the busy streets of Sundari around them. The architecture of Sundari was tall and square with sharp edges. Many of the designs evoked old Mandalorian patterns and imagery, but at the same time the shielded dome made Aran want to curl in on themself. It felt suffocating.

“Jango said to take a speeder to these coordinates within the city,” Aran said and led their friends to the closest speeder taxi. Aran gave the address to the driver while the rest of them piled in. It had to be a rather strange sight for him, but he stared a moment and then filtered into traffic.

“I still can’t believe you’re on a first name basis with Fett,” Purse grumbled from where he was squeezed between Kit and Chad. He leaned forward to peer around Kit and glared at Aran. “You’d think that might be something you’d tell us. I never saw you even twitch or react in any way to us clones.”

Aran shrugged and drawled, “Why should I have? Yes, you might look like Jango, but you’re all different individuals.”

Chad laughed from his seat and asked, “How did you get to know him?”

“My ba’buir introduced us,” Aran slowly admitted, hands curling into fists. Thinking of that time made their heartrate pick up. There were good memories, but mostly bad ones of that time. Kit seemed to sense their tension and wrapped one of their hands in his. “Helped me with my training and then helped Kaert… ‘adopt’ me.”

Purse frowned at Aran’s tone.

“Why does ‘adopt’ sound like Kaert and Fett kidnapped you?”

“I was willing to, but my guardians were not willing to let me go,” Aran explained with a sneer under their helmet. “Ba’buir and Jango didn’t give them a choice.”

The speeder taxi slowed and Aran and their friends peered outside. And stared.

“Is this the right place?” Chad asked, leaning across Purse and Kit to look out Aran’s window.

“Excuse me,” Kit called to the driver. “What is this place?”

The driver gave them a confused look before he said, “The Sundari archives. These are the coordinates you gave me.”

Aran opened the door and stepped out, staring up at the large building. It reminded them of the entrance of the jedi temple with the steps leading up except instead of the banner of the jedi hanging in front there was a mural of Mandalorian history along the sides of the entrance and the top. Unlike the jedi temple, there were no guards at the entrance of the archives. Instead, to Aran’s surprise, they spotted a pair of strill lounging at the top of the steps.

“Alright, why did your ba’buir come to a library?” Chad asked and Aran shrugged. His guess was just as good as theirs. They’d never learned everything about their ba’buir. This was turning into one of those mysteries for them to solve.

Aran climbed the steps with their friends and kept a careful eye on the two strill at the front. Behind them, they could hear Purse and Chad make gagging noises and they glanced back to see them covering their noses with their hands. Purse gagged and demanded, “How can you stand the smell of those?”

They passed the two strill that barely acknowledged them with anymore than a slow blink of their drowsy eyes and Aran drawled, “I lived with one for a long time, but usually human men tend to find the smell of them very unpleasant.”

“Unpleasant is such an understatement, bro.”

They stepped through the great open doors of the archives and looked around. Rows and rows of archive shelves filled a great hall with tables scattered throughout and people browsing the archives. At the front, a circular reception table was manned by two archivists and Aran stepped up to them. The two glanced up from their work and did a double-take at the sight of the four of them.

A Mandalorian in full armor which hadn’t been seen in Sundari since the Great Clan Wars, two clones and a jedi. Somewhere that was probably the beginning of a joke.

“I am looking for Rovhoss,” Aran stated and the two archivists wary expressions shifted to surprise. They glanced at each other and Aran tensed. What did that look mean? Why had their wary looks changed?

“Of course,” the female receptionist said with a small smile. She at least still looked a little nervous looking up at them. “And you are a friend? Relative?”

Aran blinked a few times, staring silently.

“Child.”

Why did that answer seem to make the receptionists even more nervous? The female receptionist jumped to her feet, bowing and exclaimed, “Oh! We’ll let Archivist Rovhoss know you’re here right away. Until then, my colleague here will take you to one of our conference rooms.”

Said colleague paled at her words as she made a shooing gesture at him and he hurried to step out from behind the circular reception desk. His hand shook as he gestured ahead of himself and squeaked, “If you don’t mind following me!”

Aran glanced back at confused looking Chad, Purse and Kit. What the kark was going on? They followed the receptionist through the archives as he babbled, “The Sundari archives are relatively new in the grand scheme of things as you can probably tell. The city itself was rebuilt multiple times in the last few generations as the wars tore not only our society but also our homes apart.”

He glanced back at Aran with a nervous smile and added, “It is thanks to House Rovhoss that we even have an archive that dates back as far back as it does. The Duchess is always most grateful for the support House Rovhoss provides her and the people of Sundari by granting them free access.”

Aran followed silently and Kit lengthened his stride to walk beside them. They leaned close as the receptionist continued about the state of the archives and whispered, “Did you know about House Rovhoss?”

They shook their head and muttered, “Ba’buir gave me his house name. We never talked about any other family members. It brought back… painful memories.”

Kit opened his mouth to answer when the receptionists comm chimed and he listened to it for a moment. The receptionist turned into a new direction and said, “My apologies, Archivist Rovhoss said she would receive you immediately.”

She? Aran glanced at Kit who frowned as well. Finally, Aran gave a small shrug. They would get answers from this archivist.

The receptionist took them through a locked door after typing in a key, leaving the great hall and they walked through a smaller hall with fewer people. Aran blinked in surprise when they spotted a few strill lounging in the smaller hall at the feet of archivists working or sprawled across the floor. The door the receptionist took them too even had a strill painted on with sharp eyes watching over a tome.

Somebody liked strill a lot.

The painted door opened after the receptionist pressed a button and Aran followed him into a large office. They stopped just inside to take a moment to take in the busy room. Books, scrolls, datapads and artifacts littered any surface in the office filled with shelves on each wall.

The large desk was no exception where an older woman looked up from a datapad she had been looking at. Her graying hair was pulled back into a high ponytail that draped over her shoulder onto her magenta robes. Her stern frown lightened a little when she spotted Aran and their companions before she scowled again and said, “You may leave, Orn. Thank you.”

Orn the receptionist looked relieved and fled the office and the door slid shut behind him. The room fell silent. The woman stared at them and Aran stared right back. They didn’t know how to react. They’d asked for Rovhoss, but who was she? They twitched when she demanded, “Judging by your appearance and companions, I can assume you are Aran, correct?”

Aran inclined their head slowly and said, “I am. I had asked for Rovhoss at the reception, but I do not know who you are.”

She wrinkled her nose at their words and scoffed, muttering something under her breath. She stepped around her desk and waving at the four of them to find a seat on the two couches and chair that were littered with books and datapads, declared, “It does not surprise me. Kaert always was tight-lipped. For good reason, but sometimes it made me want to beat the information out of him.”

Aran who had been halfway to sitting down on a couch with Chad, froze at the mention of their ba’buir’s name. She had moved a book from her cushioned chair to her desk and sat down, crossing a leg and folding her hands in her lap with an expectant look. Aran sat down as Kit and Purse occupied the other couch and asked, “How do you know Kaert?”

The woman raised a brow and drawled, “Manners, ad’ika. I believe introductions are in order first.”

Aran sneered under their helmet at her words, but Kit leaned forward with a smile.

“My name is Kit Fisto,” he introduced himself and her sharp gaze moved from Aran to the Nautolan jedi. “These are our friends, Chad and Purse. It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance…”

He trailed off with a small gesture towards her. She considered him with a haughty expression and answered, “I am Shevla Rovhoss, director of the Sundari archives.”

Her gaze returned to settle on Aran and they tensed under her scrutiny.

“And to answer your question: I am Kaert’s daughter.”

It felt like the floor disappeared beneath Aran’s feet. Their heart lurched and it felt like their armor was pressing down on them. They struggled to hold their composure.

“He… daughter?” Aran managed to choke out. A daughter. Kaert had a daughter. A family beyond Aran that they hadn’t known about. That Kaert had never talked about.

They felt small and fearful like a child. Like the child they had left behind all those years ago when Kaert had taken Aran away. Had Kaert not… trusted them? Why would he hide this from them? Why…?

“I can tell he told you nothing. The old fool could never let old habits go,” Shevla grumbled with a dark scowl. She shook her head with a heavy sigh. “During the war, our house held a neutral position, but my buir believed in the Jester Mereel of the True Mandalorians. It was arranged that my buir would become a double agent.”

Her fingers began to drum across her knee as her eyes took on a distant look.

“The New Mandalorians believed he was their spy when he was fleecing them for every piece of intel they had. When the True Mandalorians were broken…”

Shevla’s voice trailed off and he hands curled into fists. Aran felt their own insides turn cold with anger. They could remember the story. Their ba’buir had told it often enough as a cautionary tale. They had seen the sorrow in Kaert’s eyes. Shevla’s identical eyes turned hard with her own anger and she snarled, “Kaert wasn’t there when the True Mandalorians were destroyed. He blamed himself and decided to leave and grieve for the fallen. We decided it was better not to be in touch in case the New Mandalorians decided he was a traitor after all.”

“And then he found me,” Aran breathed and Shevla nodded. They felt like they were shaking. It made sense. Kaert not saying anything made sense and yet they could still feel their chest aching with a mixture of hurt and betrayal. “Where is he?”

Shevla flinched and Aran straightened, alarmed. She took a deep breath and murmured, “He came here to ask me for a favor. Buir wanted to surprise you once it was done, but…”

Her words faltered as her expression twisted into one of grief and for the second time in the conversation Aran felt like the floor vanished under their feet.

“Kaert won’t wake up anymore.”

—

The med droid fled the room the moment Aran appeared in the doorway with Shevla and their friends. Shevla stepped inside to look over the monitor and ran a hand over the strill’s head that lay at the foot of the hospital bed. The ancient strill didn’t even lift her head. Just whined and her tail flopped a few times.

Aran couldn’t take their eyes off of Kaert.

Their ba’buir.

He lay in his hospital bed, connected to a machine that breathed for him. Aran remembered him being larger than life with an easy smirk and loud laugh. Now he was silent and so… small.

Tiny. Fragile.

“Aran.”

They flinched at the quiet murmur beside them and glanced to the side to see Kit take their hand and give it a squeeze. They were shaking within their armor. They couldn’t speak. Something clogged their throat and no sound could come out. Kit squeezed Aran’s hand again and asked, “How can we help?”

How could they help?

Aran wanted their ba’buir back. They wanted him to wake up and explain why he hadn’t said anything. They wanted to get him up out of that bed and hug him and…

“Don’t…” Aran started in a weak whisper and swallowed when their voice broke. “Don’t let anyone else in.”

Kit nodded and released Aran’s hand as they took a small step further into the room. The door slid shut behind them and Aran tapped the controls of the room, so the windows darkened and no one could look in or out.

They took another small step forward and stopped at the foot of the bed. Hands shaking, they pulled off one glove and held it up to the strill’s nose. Her nose twitched and Aran whispered, “Hey Vaar’ika.”

Vaar’ika raised her head and gave Aran’s head a lick with a quiet whine, tail trying to wag. She had already been old when Kaert and Aran had met. Now she was ancient.

Just like Kaert.

“Father inherited Vaar’ika when his grandfather passed,” Shevla said in a quiet tone, switching to Mando’a now that they were alone. She trailed a hand over Vaar’ika’s pelt as the strill settled down again, already exhausted from greeting Aran.

They swallowed, trying to remove the lump in their throat and moved further up the bed to stand beside Kaert. Their bare hand took Kaert’s and their knees almost gave out when they felt how cold and bony Kaert’s hand was. They tightened their grip on him and gasped, “Why did he just disappear? Why didn’t he say anything?”

“He wanted to surprise you.”

Aran whipped their visor up to Shevla and snarled, “What could have been so important that he couldn’t tell me?”

Shevla didn’t even flinch at Aran’s harsh tone. Just like Kaert. He hadn’t ever been intimidated by any of Aran’s bluster either. She took Kaert’s free hand and said, “Father came to me three weeks ago and told me about you. Told me all these stories about a child he had saved and how much joy you had brought him after losing nearly all of his friends to the war.”

Aran nearly buckled at her words, but Shevla didn’t notice. She was looking down at Kaert, tears filling her eyes.

“He wanted to officially register you as part of house Rovhoss,” she explained with a watery smile and Aran inhaled sharply at her words. “He asked me to adopt you, so you would be registered as a direct descendant of his. To gain all the rights of a citizen of Mandalore. A true foundling after the old traditions.”

Kaert had claimed them as his foundling. Had always said they were his grandchild. They had avoided Mandalore though and Aran had never thought about or known that they could be registered as a member of house Rovhoss.

Aran shook their head and whispered, “I don’t need that. I just want my grandfather.”

“He’s not going to wake up, ad’ika.”

They flinched at Shevla’s words and slowly curled themself up over Kaert’s hand, resting their forehead against Kaert’s shoulder. They knew that. Shevla had explained the attack Kaert had a few days after he had arrived on Mandalore. They could see it now as they hovered over Kaert, silent tears rolling down their face as they clung to his hand.

They knew Kaert wasn’t waking up.

“I can’t let go,” Aran choked out and felt their entire form shudder. “Without him, I can’t… I can’t…”

They jumped when they felt a hand land on the back of their neck and Shevla declared, “You are not alone. Kaert made sure of that. You have an entire Mandalorian house at your back. You have Kaert’s old friends that survived the war and even I can tell that you have three wonderful friends standing outside that would do anything for you.”

Aran bit their lip to keep from sobbing loudly.

Shevla removed her hand and Aran heard her step away as she said, “I’ll give you some time alone with father. I will wait outside with your friends, ad’ika.”

The door opened and closed and except for the machines keeping Kaert alive, it was silent for several long minutes. Aran straightened and ripped off their helmet, dropping it on the floor. They pressed Kaert’s hand to their face and sobbed, “You fucking bastard. You should have said something.”

They cried, clinging to Kaert’s hand and wishing things were different.

“I wanted to introduce you to my friends,” Aran gasped, trying to wipe some of the tears away from their face. “Kit is sharp like you and Chad is too kind for his own good. Purse is a dumbass, but would do anything for his friends.”

They gulped in a breath as the words tumbled from them.

“Cody is like a big brother and Fox terrifies me like you and Jango did when I got into mischief. I also met Fives, Tup, Sister, Omega and some more jedi though I’m not sure how fond of them you’d be.”

Aran raised their gaze to look at Kaert’s still form and feeling their chest constrict at the sight, whispered, “I helped defeat a sith that was trying to ruin the galaxy. Not much time to hunt monsters since, but I’m helping my friends choose a chancellor for the Republic. They mean so much to me.”

Their face twisted with guilt and they bowed their head.

“I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you. I don’t know what I’ll do without you,” they wept and heard Vaar’ika whine. They raised their head to see the strill had raised her head and plopped it closer to them. Large brown eyes stared back up at them and a fresh wave of tears rolled down their face as they placed a hand on her head. “Both of you.”

Vaar’ika blinked slowly at Aran before lifting her head again and turning to look at the closed door. She glanced back at Aran before looking back at the door.

Where their friends waited.

Their friends.

Chad, Purse and Kit. The friends they trusted the most. The ones they would lay down their own life for. Do anything for.

Beyond that lay Coruscant. Where many of their other friends waited for them to return to. Aran wanted to finish helping Cody and Fox dismantle the system that oppressed clones. Ensure Omega got to enjoy her childhood. Let Fives and Tup recover from their ordeal at the hands of the sith.

On Tatooine Aran also had Jango. A friend to reminisce with about the many adventures they had gone on with Kaert. To share stories and their grief.

And here on Mandalore.

Aran couldn’t help but flinch. Mandalore held many dark memories and at the same time… It was where they met Kaert. Met Vaar’ika. Trained with Jango.

It was now also the home of their house. The home of Shevla Rovhoss who had welcomed them with open arms because she loved and trusted her father. Trust did not come easily to Aran anymore, but the people Kaert had brought into their life had been true.

This entire trip. Kit, Purse and Chad had all proven over and over again that they weren’t alone. That Aran didn’t have to face their fears on their own.

Something clever Vaar’ika had instantly picked up on as tired and weak as she was.

Aran shot Vaar’ika a watery smile and rubbed the top of her head with their hand.

“You’re always so karking smart, Vaar’ika,” they grumbled and turned back to look at Kaert. Seeing him like this hurt unbelievably, but they leaned forward to press their forehead to Kaert’s. “There is nothing I can say to express my gratitude or devotion to you.”

They straightened and smiled even as tears rolled down their cheeks.

“You saved me. Taught me everything I know. It is thanks to you that I get to live the life I choose. A life devoted to bettering the lives of others. Just like you.”

Aran reached down and picked up their helmet before slipping it and their glove back on. They pressed Kaert’s hand to their forehead and whispered, “I swear to keep fighting. To keep protecting others, like you named me. A life in service to others.”

They rubbed their gloved hand over Vaar’ika’s head one last time before stepping away from the hospital bed. They swallowed thickly and said, “I won’t be strong enough to come back here, but I think if you trusted Shevla enough to come here, you’ll be in good hands with her.”

Aran tried to swallow down the lump in their throat.

“I will know you forever, grandfather.”

[ermakeys]

An Essential Aspect Of Gravity Is Not Being Afraid To Fall

This is Chapter 3. Go here for Chapter 1 or go here for Chapter 2.

AO3

Chapter 3: Tatooine

Aran has one more lead on where their grandfather might be. What favors will they have to pay though?

Aran sat in the co-pilot’s seat of their own ship. They kept trying to take deep breaths but their chest felt compressed. The armor that shielded them from the world now felt like it was crushing them. Kit had climbed into the cockpit to press a cool hand to the back of their neck as they struggled to just breathe. Aran was grateful that he didn’t seemed to mind the death grip they had on his wrist.

“Breathe through narrowed lips, Aran,” Chad instructed from the ladder behind them. He sat on the top rung and with a small twist, Aran was able to see him. Chad grinned and started to demonstrate what he meant. Opening his lips in a narrow line and sucking in air through them. “You can do it, bro.”

Aran sucked in a shuddering breath through their lips. It took some time, but slowly Aran felt like they were regaining some control. At the same time they felt their cheeks heat with shame and embarrassment. When had been the last time they had lost control like this? Five years? Seven?

Certainly before they had met Kit, Chad and Purse.

Never in front of anyone since they had left Mandalore.

They slowly pulled Kit’s hand from their neck and stared straight ahead through the transparisteel. The bright lights of hyperspace rushing past flashed by as Purse checked over the controls with a frown. Aran didn’t want to acknowledge any of them. Didn’t want to look at any of them. They were afraid they’d break again.

As it was it felt like they had entered a haze when they’d finally told Kit that their ba’buir was missing. They couldn’t remember going back to the firespray. Only later when Kit and Chad had prodded at them on where to next had Aran been able to slowly snap out of it. They’d choked out the next set of coordinates before the panic had set in.

They wanted to just disappear.

“So, you’ve misplaced your ba’buir,” Purse drawled and then yelped when Chad smacked his arm. “Hey! Careful there, I’m flying this thing!”

Purse ran a hand over the controls with a scowl and grumbled, “Why you’ve never introduced me to this beauty, I’ll never know. Flies like a dream.”

“Bro, could you not for once in your life?”

Aran couldn’t help the way their lips twitched into a hidden smile. They flexed their hands and winced when they felt how cramped their hands were from having them curled into tight fists for so long. Aran sucked in another breath and murmured, “Ba’buir retired on Naalol. It was supposed to be safe.”

“Safe from what?” Chad asked and Aran couldn’t help flinching.

“The Great Clan Wars, the New Mandalorians, the Kyr’tsad. The civil war tore our home apart and left many broken and twisted people behind,” Aran scoffed, shaking their head. “Not to mention other bounty hunters we pissed off when the two of us started taking bounties.”

Aran smoothed their hands over their knees guards and muttered, “Ba’buir started slowing down. He stayed behind on Naalol while I left to hunt. We stayed in touch and I visited when I could.”

The cockpit fell silent. Aran stared out into the streaming lights of hyperspace while their three friends mulled over their words. They felt like they were shaking. Hot and cold at the same time. They didn’t feel anxious about talking with others. Usually though they didn’t talk about themself.

Purse had once said that they only knew three things about Aran and one of those things was that they only knew three things about Aran.

They didn’t know how to be any different. Their past had necessitated keeping everything close. Opening up now with even this little… It made Aran break out into a cold sweat.

“Alright, so we’ll help you find your ba’buir,” Chad declared and Aran couldn’t help but flinch when he broke the silence. He reached up to tap his knuckles against Aran’s helmet and grinned when Aran glanced down at him. “Hey no bro left behind, right? We’ll save the galaxy one bro at a time if we have to.”

No judgment. No suspicion. Just open acceptance. Purse and Kit even voiced their agreement.

Aran felt their form slump a little with relief. They shouldn’t have expected anything else from him, but to have that confirmation, that validation… It made it a little easier to let them in a little more.

Which they would have to, considering where they were going.

They tensed a little again when the computer beeped that they were about to exit hyperspace. Purse quickly focused on flying the ship again and Aran’s hands curled into fists again. A jolt went through the ship as the firespray exited hyperspace to hover over the beige and brown planet in front of them.

“We’ll help you look for your ba’buir, but where are we and where can I put us down?” Purse asked with a raised brow in Aran’s direction. They grimaced, glad their face was hidden behind their visor. They were not looking forward to this next step.

“Welcome to Tatooine,” Aran drawled, reaching for the flight controls. With a few taps, they transferred flight control from Purse’s seat to their own and begun the descent towards the desert planet. “And we’re headed for Jabba’s palace.”

—

Tatooine was hot on a pleasant day and today was not one of them. The twin suns staring down on the planet made even Aran break out in a sweat despite their suit having some temperature control. Even their suit would give out if they stayed in the hellish glare of both suns for too long.

Luckily, they didn’t think they would have to stay out in the suns for too long.

They stepped off of the ramp of the firespray with Purse, Chad and Kit behind them and were met with a pair of Gamoran guards. The one on the left gave a small nod and in their loud speech demanded, “Who comes to the gates of Lord Jabba’s palace?”

Said palace towered above them.

Aran had set their firespray down in front of the hangar doors where guests would usually park their vehicles. The majority were speeders of varying designs and cost with a handful of ships. They tensed when they didn’t see the ship they had hoped to find.

“Beroya Aran Rovhoss,” they answered the Gamoran, tucking their thumbs into their belt with a casual swagger. They felt a flash of pride when they saw the two tense at their words and confident posture. “I seek an audience with Jabba.”

The two Gamorans glanced between each other before one turned away and hurried back into the palace. The remaining Gamoran waved at them to follow and said, “Lord Jabba is very busy, but you are invited to enjoy his hospitality while you wait.”

Aran gave a sharp nod and followed, feeling relieved when they heard their friends following behind. To say they’d been shocked they were going to Jabba’s palace would have been an understatement. They knew they would have to answer questions later. The thought made Aran’s headache throb painfully.

The palace hallways were pleasantly cool in comparison to the heat outside. They were quiet at first with the occasional servant or guard passing, but became louder the closer the Gamoran took you to the throne room. At the entrance of the throne room the Gamoran gestured for Aran to proceed and then walked back they way they had come.

Aran stepped into the throne room with Purse, Chad and Kit close behind. A band played while a few women in revealing outfits danced to the music near the throne. People crowded the edges of the throne room, talking, laughing, drinking and eating. Enjoying Jabba’s hositality.

Jabba who lounged on his throne.

The oversized slug made Aran sneer. Their ba’buir had told them stories of the Hutt warriors of old. The Hutt slugs in modern times were nothing but decadent and slothful creatures. Jabba observed a poor fool before his throne pleading for his life while a slave fanned him and another pretty slave was draped across the throne in front of him.

Aran let their gaze sweep across the room before making their way to a half occupied table. What looked like two Trandoshan smugglers sat there, huddled close and whispering and they paused the conversation when Aran approached with their friends. Aran flicked several credits at them and jerked their helmet to the side in a silent command. One the two Trandoshans understood and happily complied with when they saw the amount of credits Aran had tossed them.

“How do you have immediate access to Jabba’s palace?” Purse hissed through his helmet’s vocoder once the four of them sat down at the table. Purse leaned closer so no one else beyond the table would hear them despite the crowded room. “Do you have any idea how difficult it is to even get in this far?”

Aran shrugged and muttered, “Ba’buir and I did a few jobs for Jabba. He was very pleased with our work.”

“You’ve worked for him?” Chad asked with a look around the room. Aran felt their hackles rise defensively and their posture stiffened. The tone had been neutral and curious, but they couldn’t help but listen for judgment.

“When you start at the bottom, you take the jobs you can,” Aran snapped and their hands clenched around their knees tightly. Their headache throbbed and they tried not to wince as the loud music and chatter made it ache. “I didn’t have the luxury of choice. We were lucky that someone recommended us to Jabba.”

Kit leaned forward and Aran saw the wariness in his face despite the hood he had thrown over his head. Hutt space was dangerous enough without advertising that there was a jedi accompanying them. Not to mention two clone troopers. He glanced towards where the man kneeling in front of Jabba was crying and murmured, “How does this help find your grandfather? Would Jabba know?”

Aran shook their head with a scoff and drawled, “No, Ba’buir trusted Jabba as far as he could throw him.”

“Then how-?”

Kit’s question was cut off by the loud and guttural laughter of Jabba. The music continued to play, but the conversations quieted or fell silent entirely as the room turned their attention to Jabba and the fool in front of him. The huge slug shook with his laughter and stroked a hand over the slave in front of him like one would a pet.

“I like you, Pern,” Jabba chuckled in Huttese and Aran felt their skin crawl at his voice. “That is why I will only have one of your hands for taking what is mine.”

The man paled visibly as a pair of guards stepped forward and grabbed him. He screamed as they began to drag him away, pleading for Jabba’s mercy, but the slug’s attention had already turned elsewhere. Jabba was listening to his Twi’lek advisor, whispering something behind his hand.

Aran curled their lip in disgust. Both were disgusting to them. The advisor, Fortuna, was lucky to have Jabba’s protection or they would have hunted them long ago.

Jabba straightened slightly at something Fortuna said and his eyes swept the room. Aran saw their companions twitch out of the corner of their eye when Jabba’s gaze settled on them. Jabba raised his arms with a wide and unnerving smile and in Huttese exclaimed, “Rovhoss! It has been too long since you have visited me. Come, step forward!”

Aran pushed themselves to their feet and stepped forward. Chad, Purse and Kit followed closely and Aran inclined their head to Jabba once they stood in front of him. They ignored the grates under their feet where they knew the rancor rested. They knew with Kit, Chad and Purse behind them that they would be fine, but the screams of those that had fallen below rattled in their head.

“Greetings, lord Jabba,” Aran answered in Huttese and tucked their thumbs into their belt. They could feel the anxious energy tickling under their skin. The room had returned to its previous volume of conversation, but Aran knew they were being watched. Rather than show their hands fiddling or twitching, they kept their thumbs tucked in their belt in a display of confidence.

Behind them, they could hear Kit whispering. Probably translating what he understood for Purse. Aran knew Chad was fluent in Huttese and Kit understood a little, but they didn’t know about Purse.

Jabba chortled and waving a hand, asked, “What brings you to my home? The jobs on Coruscant run dry? I’ve heard many interesting stories from the core world.”

Interesting stories was one way to put the death or a corrupt chancellor revealed as a sith lord.

“My lord, I require the time of one of your hunters,” Aran answered and ground their teeth when Jabba stroked the head of his slave again. “I have questions for my friend, so I can find my mentor.”

Jabba’s eyes widened in open curiosity and he tilted his head.

“You cannot find Rovhoss senior yourself?” Jabba inquired and hummed when Aran gave a shake of their head. He rubbed a hand across the chin before giving a nod. “I will allow it. You remember where his rooms are?”

Aran resisted the urge to sag in relief. Instead, they nodded and then froze when Jabba smiled again. Not the same pleased smile as before. No, this one was predatory.

“I can expect to call on you for a return of this favor at a later date?”

Of course it wouldn’t be for free. Nothing ever was with Jabba. Aran’s temples throbbed and they bared their teeth in a silent snarl as they tried to compose themself. They gave a sharp and Jabba chuckled, “Go on then. I will call on you when I have need of you.”

“Woah, wait, hold on just a second!”

Aran stiffened when Chad spoke up behind them. They glanced back to see Chad step forward with his hands raised and in Standard exclaimed, “You can’t be serious, bro? An unknown favor just to ask a bounty hunter some questions? Bro, you have got to set up some limits to that favor!”

Aran shook their head in annoyance. There was no time. If this would get them access faster then they would do it. They’d already stained their hands in blood before, what was a little more? They opened their mouth to tell Chad to shut up, but their friend had already turned to face an amused looking Jabba.

“Bro, sorry to step in like that, but I’m looking out for my bro here,” Chad said in Huttese and placed a hand on Aran’s shoulder. “A favor like that is such a bad deal for just a few questions. Can’t we work something else out?”

Jabba considered Chad before beginning to chuckle.

“What could a clone of the Republic offer me?” he chortled, his entire form shaking. He pointed down at them with a wicked grin and Aran felt their insides burn with fury. “What could you possibly possess? You are nothing but property of the Senate. Attack dogs of the Republic to terrorize-.”

Aran didn’t even realize they had taken a menacing step forward until Chad had grabbed their arm. The music and conversations had fallen silent. They glared up at Jabba, ignoring all the blasters now pointed in their direction and snarled, “These are my friends.”

Jabba simply laughed and Aran trembled with barely contained anger. They had to keep it in. Stay in control. If they had been here alone it would have been different if Jabba insulted them.

“What if we gave you information on the Pykes?”

Jabba’s attention shifted from Aran and Chad to somewhere behind them. Aran turned in time to see Purse step forward, visor fixed on the disgusting slug. Purse held up a data chip and in Standard said, “I have a record of their most recent activities and transmissions and I think some of them might be interesting to you. The Hutts and Tatooine are mentioned with increasing frequency.”

“Purse,” Aran hissed, reaching out to pull his arm down, but Purse evaded them deftly. It didn’t help that Chad was still holding on to them as all the blasters in the room were still trained on them.

Purse moved closer to the dais where Jabba lounged and drawled, “I think this is a pretty good deal. Free information about your rivals and a gang trying to encroach on your territory. All for a little time with your hunter.”

Jabba hummed, stroking a hand over his chin as he considered Purse’s offer. Finally, he smiled and in Huttese declared, “The Pykes have been increasingly annoying and while they pose no threat to me, having this will be a good way to poke holes in their operations.”

He turned his gaze back to Aran and smirked.

“I would have enjoyed holding a favor over you, Rovhoss. Perhaps next time.”

Aran sneered under their helmet and forced themself to relax as Purse handed the data chip over to Fortuna. They shook off Chad’s hands as Purse stepped back to rejoin them and waving at them Jabba, drawled, “Off you go. It was good to see you again, young Rovhoss.”

Grinding their teeth, Aran gave a curt nod before turning away and stalking towards one of the open doorways. The guests and courtiers shied away from them as they exited the throne room and entered a dimly lit hallway as Chad, Purse and Kit scrambled to follow them. The music and conversations started up again behind them once they had left the throne room behind and Aran curled their hands into fists.

Kriffing Hutts. Wished they’d never had to deal with them again and Aran stopped to calm down a little. They flexed their hands and glaring at Purse and Chad, growled, “You shouldn’t have interfered.”

They heard Purse scoff through their vocoder and he shook his head.

“If you’re so eager to become a lackey of the Hutts, then by all means go ahead,” Purse snapped back, gesturing back towards the throne room. They could still hear the conversations and music echoing down the hallway. “I thought you asked us along to help you and not just stand on the side and look pretty.”

Aran flinched at his words and looked down. They hated feeling like this. They were teetering on the edge with their ba’buir gone and even though they had three hands reaching for them to help… Aran kept swatting them aside and falling closer and closer to the edge.

They took a few deep breaths. Calm. They needed to be calm. Aran closed their eyes and murmured, “You’re right. I didn’t mean… I’m sorry.”

“Sorry, can you repeat that again?” Purse asked and held up their arm, ready to record what Aran said. They stared at their friend before smacking their arm back down with a smirk.

“Eat glass, your ass,” Aran shot back, amusement in their voice before they sobered again. “I can’t think straight. He’s gone and I just… I need him back.”

Kit reached out and placed a hand on Aran’s vambrace, giving it a light squeeze as he smiled.

“We’ll find him. That’s what we’re here for.”

Chad bumped his shoulder against Aran’s and exclaimed, “Yeah, bro! You can rely on us. We’ve got your back.”

Aran leaned into Chad’s shoulder and wrapped their fingers around Kit’s for a moment and breathed. They could do this. They had support. Their main pillar was gone, but they weren’t alone. Maybe if they repeated that often enough, they’d finally start believing it.

“Let’s go find that hunter,” Aran muttered as they pulled away from Chad and Kit. They felt heat rising in their cheeks as they thought how much physical contact they’d initiated or received in the last few days. Their ba’buir would tease them relentlessly about it later.

And be so proud at the same time.

They led their friends through the maze of hallways that Jabba’s palace consisted of. Few people passed them as Aran guided them down the more secluded passages. They passed the doors to the hangar bay and Aran felt some tension leave them when they saw the same ship as their own. He was here.

At the top of a flight of stairs, Aran stopped in front of a locked door and rapped their knuckles against it. Their three friends arranged themselves behind them and Chad asked, “So, who is this hunter we’re going to be talking to? Anyone we could know?”

Aran felt their heart drop. Why hadn’t they thought of that beforehand? Oh kark.

Before they had the chance to say anything, the door slid open and a boy stood in front of them. He glared up at the four of them and Aran could feel their three friends tense at the sight. For Chad and Purse it had to be like looking into a reflection of their younger selves.

“Hello Boba,” Aran greeted the boy with a nod. Boba narrowed his eyes at them and they held out their open palms to him to show they weren’t reaching for a weapon. “Can you tell your father that Rovhoss would like to speak with him?”

Boba considered them for a moment before turning halfway and in Mando’a calling, “Father! There’s a hunter called Rovhoss here to talk with you!”

Beyond Boba, an apartment opened up with narrow windows overlooking the Dune Sea. Equipment, weapons, crates and other things lay scattered about and Aran felt themself relax at the sight. The last time they’d been here it had been similar.

They straightened when they heard steps and from a neighboring room, a man stepped into the main living area in the process of removing his helmet. He tucked the helmet under one arm and raised a brow at the sight of Aran. Neither he nor Aran had the chance to say anything though.

“JANGO FETT!?”

“The hunter you wanted to talk to was karking Fett!?”

“What in the name of the force…?”

Aran sighed at the exclamations of their friends behind them and shook their head. They gestured between their friends and Jango and drawled, “Chad, Purse and Kit this is my mentor Jango Fett. Jango, my friends Chad, Purse and Kit.”

Jango smirked at the introduction and stepped closer with a swagger in his step as Boba trotted over to him. Boba took Jango’s helmet as his father chuckled, “Missed me so much you decided to hang around my copies, ad'ika?”

Aran scoffed and stepped into the apartment with their three friends and the door slid shut again. They held out a hand and Jango wrapped his larger hand around his, pulling Aran close. They pressed their foreheads against each other and Aran felt himself relax fully into the touch before slowly withdrawing.

“They’re my friends,” Aran said and watched as Jango’s expression seemed to soften. Jango glanced down at Boba and ruffled a hand through the boy’s hair with a fond smile.

“They’re more than just copies,” he agreed quietly before waving at all of them to follow. Boba vanished into a neighboring room after a nod from his father. Jango sat down at his table with a grunt while Aran and their squad settled around the table with him and he asked, “What prompted this visit, ad'ika? I thought I’d said I wanted to lay low for a while.”

Aran nodded, grimacing under their helmet and muttered, “I know, but-.”

“How the kark are you still alive?” Purse demanded, drowning out Aran. They rolled their eyes as Purse gestured around the table. “What the actual kark? I’d heard you’d been decapitated? How are you even here?”

Jango lounged in his seat with a smirk and Aran just wanted to shake their head.

“I got better.”

Aran raised a hand before Purse could say anything and sighed, “My ba’buir and I helped. Got him to a med tech in time.”

“When was this? Why didn’t you say anything?” Kit asked with a frown and Aran shrugged.

“It was from before I knew all of you. No reason to tell you.”

“No reason to-!”

Chad shushed Purse before his brother could yell anything else and Jango glanced between the four of them. He drummed his fingers against the table top and focusing on Aran again, said, “You really haven’t told your ‘friends’ much about yourself, ad'ika. I thought if you trusted them enough to bring them to me, that they would know more about you.”

Aran felt their cheeks flush with shame and they turned their visor away. Only to look at their friends. Their friends who knew almost nothing about them.

“It’s… hard,” they ground out, slowly returning their gaze to Jango. “You know trust doesn’t come to me easily. By the time I do trust someone… they know enough.”

Jango grunted, rubbing a gloved hand over their covered neck.

“Fair. I’m not one to talk.”

“I came because of ba’buir,” Aran finally explained and Jango’s eyes narrowed. “I can’t get in touch with him. Has he told you anything? Gotten in touch recently?”

Jango scowled and grumbled, “The old fool. I told him to reach out to you when I picked him up. Can’t believe I have to deal with this now.”

Aran jerked at Jango’s words. He knew. He knew something! Before Aran could blurt out anything, Jango declared, “Kaert got in touch with me to ask me for a pick up. He said you were busy making up for my mistake. Karking shabuir.”

A pick up? Too busy to pick him up? Aran felt frozen. Their ba’buir had thought they were too busy to do something for him?

“How was he?”

Aran winced at how raspy their voice sounded. Jango grimaced and muttered, “Old. He was already old when you met him, ad'ika and that was almost twenty years ago.”

They felt a hand squeeze their vambrace. A glance down showed a green hand and Aran slowly pulled their arm free from Kit. They felt like they were falling. Collapsing under the pressure of their armor like a black hole.

“Where did you take him?”

Jango hesitated and Aran knew. They knew before he’d even spoken the words. No. No, not there. Anywhere but that hellhole. Please, please not-.

“Kaert wanted to go home. So I took him back to Mandalore.”