Chapter Text
Din wasn’t sure what woke him up in the middle of the night. It wasn’t Grogu joining him this time. Grogu had curled up at Din’s side right off and was still sacked out against Din’s chest.
He lay there for a long moment, eyes shut, listening. It wasn’t a silent house or region. Everything had their regular creaks and shifts. The trees rustled in the wind. The stream burbled louder and softer at different times. But none of that had woken Din. He also didn’t hear any of the suspicious sounds like the creak of the porch planks or the front door sticking in the frame.
And yet, when he did open his eyes, there was a figure in the bedroom doorway. For a moment, Din stiffened, fingers tightening on the handle of the blade he kept under his pillow.
But he knew, deep down from the first, that this figure was no threat. The shape was familiar, and the glinting green hatband in the small patch of moonlight was a clear identifier.
“Boba,” Din breathed, surprised to see the other man now, at this hour. He’d looked forward to the other man riding up some day. Still, he’d take what he could get. Releasing the knife, he slid his hand out from under the pillow and reached out toward the other man.
Boba’s face was hidden in the dark. Even when he took off his hat, his face remained lost in shadow. The moon’s light followed the hat, still highlighting the green band when it was in Boba’s hand. And Din understood.
“Taab'gebila,” Din breathed softly over Grogu’s curls. Marching nearby. For now, anyway. No man could have survived those wounds. But sufficient anger, grief, revenge, could keep a soul nearby until they resolved matters. And Cad Bane was dead.
The shadows nodded, sadness radiating.
Din managed a soft smile and curled his fingers again in welcome. “It’s okay. Not gone. Shi taab'echaaj'la.” Just marching far away. “We’ll find you when it’s time.”
Boba’s indistinct form came closer, leaned over the bed. Din sensed more than saw the kiss he pressed to Grogu’s crown, saw more than felt the hand that clasped his own.
“Shh. Rest for a few.” Din tightened his fingers around the impression within. “You’ve a long way to go.”
The faint smile on Boba’s face came through stronger, his white teeth glinting in the moonlight.
“Ni su'cuyi, gar kyr'adyc, ni partayli, gar darasuum,” Din recited as Boba lay on the bed, his insubstantial form having no impact on the mattress. “You are remembered,” Din swore.
Boba snuggled closer, sheltering Grogu between their bodies, and pressed his brow to Din’s. Closing his eyes, Din savored the faint sensation of pressure, the soft near puff of warm breath against his lips. ”You are remembered,” he whispered again.