Chapter Text
Din Djarin walks through Mos Eisley with the confident swagger of someone who is well-regarded by the people he is sworn to protect. His armor is brightly polished, as are his blasters. Everyone he passes gives a wave or a pleasant, “Afternoon, sheriff!”
His destination is the inn at the edge of town owned by Madam Garsa, who greets him with a warm smile and bright eyes. “Good afternoon, sheriff.” The Twi’lek’s expression turns a little mischievous as she says, “What brings you to my establishment? Certainly not here for a drink on duty.”
“Mandalorian wearing Protector armor, riding that Firespray-31 speeder bike out back,” Din says in as neutral voice as possible. “Came in here a little while ago.”
Madam Garsa nods. “He’s in the washroom enjoying our finer amenities. You are welcome to go speak with him if you must, of course. Please, don’t get any blood on the tiles.”
Din tilts his helmet to show he acknowledges her request and walks with the same swagger to the washrooms. He can hear his target almost immediately because he is singing, and the song is one that he recognizes as some campfire lullaby. Din’s heart almost aches at the sound as he leans against the already open door, as if the man beyond was waiting for him to arrive.
When Din sees Boba, he is shirtless, wearing only his lower armor and kama. So many scars cover his back and Din has to fight the urge to touch. It’s been too long since the gunslinger has been to this part of Tatooine. He’s shaving in front of a covered mirror.
“Su’cuy, Boba,” Din says as casually as he can with all the excitement he feels. Excitement and dread. His blaster rifle is primed, resting across his hands.
“That’s a voice I’d know anywhere—Din Djarin,” Boba Fett says, his voice as deep and desert rough as ever, but still filled with the same joy Din would expect from him. He almost hates that he’s here on business. Boba continues as he rinses his face, “Let me get this soap out of my eyes.” He starts to turn around. “I heard you were in Mos Eisley—” He sees the blaster rifle. “What’s the idea with the gun?”
“Just until I find out whose side you’re on, Boba,” Din says as neutrally as he can. He doesn’t want his emotions to be involved in this. The two of them have been through a lot together. “I heard you were working with Mok Shaiz.”
“Nothing set yet,” Boba says as he swings the towel around his own neck and meets Din’s eyes through his helmet. “He offered me a lot of credits, but hasn’t told me what I have to do to earn it.”
“Would you like to hear?” Din asks as Boba takes a step towards where his armor lays. He lets out a soft but warning, “Boba.”
Boba looks at him, the humor on his face not gone at all.
“That’s about close enough to your guns,” Din says.
“I just wanted to see if you’d slowed down any,” Boba says as he straightens, but he doesn’t look serious. He dabs at his face with the edge of his towel. “You were talking about Mok Shaiz.”
“Right now, he’s been buying up water rights all around Mos Eisley, all over this part of Tatooine,” Din says and he can see the shift in Boba’s expression. “That kind of money has to have backing, but no one knows where he’s getting the funds. The only people holding out are a few families—mainly the Trandoshans, the Tuskans, and a handful of others who are far enough out to not be important enough to bother. But as you can imagine, it’s caused a bit of a water struggle here because the Trandoshans don’t mind raising their prices, the Tuskans are holding on to every drop, and Mok Shaiz wants to force everyone to sell out even if it means hiring a few guns to get the job done. Right now, I’m the only one keeping the peace between them all.”
"I guess that means you're the sheriff," Boba says.
Din nods.
“That’s not the way it was told to me,” Boba says disturbed by this news. Din could always rely on Boba to take him at his word.
“That’s the way it is, Boba.” Din gestures with his helmet towards Boba’s belt with his blasters and says, “I suppose they want you to take care of me.”
“Not that I couldn’t do it, Din,” Boba says as he takes another step closer. “But I don’t think I’d like that.”
“I’m glad to hear you say that,” Din says. He lets out a relieved sigh. “Not that I couldn’t handle you, Boba. But I don’t think I’d like that either.”
A look passes through Boba’s eyes that Din wishes he could read, but he never understood Boba’s expressions. More than that, Din wishes he understood the reason he ached inside at the sight of his old friend or why he felt relief that this was not going to be the kind of reunion where they tested their strength against each other.
Boba smiles and says, “Suppose I tell Mok Shaiz I had a…long talk with you and you scared me off. Good enough?”
“Good enough.” Din nods and feels himself relax.
With a gesture to Din’s blaster rifle, Boba says, “You can put that thing down now. There’s something familiar about that gun.”
Din disengages and tosses it over and as Boba starts examining it, he says, “Just had it fixed up the way you had yours. You got lucky with it; I thought I’d try it.”
The look Boba gives him is pure amusem*nt before he tosses it back. He opens his mouth to say something else, but is cut off by someone else hollering from down the hall, “Boba Fett! You decent? You better be because I’m coming in!”
And Boba is promptly clobbered by Peli Motto as she shouts, “Kriff! It’s good to see you! When I heard you were here, I didn’t believe them til I saw your ship at the port. I thought you abandoned us for good. I thought you forgot all about us. I thought that you—Oh!” She sees Din and lets go of Boba. She giggles as she says, “Hi there Din.”
“Afternoon, Peli,” Din says with a smile.
She laughs awkwardly and says, “I suppose I interrupted something of importance, didn’t I?”
Boba says, “I have no idea what you’re talking about. Do you Din?”
“No idea at all,” he says flatly.
“Right,” Peli says. “And the suns aren’t hot at noon.”
“I didn’t expect this kind of greeting from you,” Boba says as he grabs his shirt. “I suppose this means my ship is being well serviced by your best droids.”
“My best droids work for the sheriff’s department and so do I,” Peli says with a backhanded slap to his chest.
“I get to put up with it now,” Din says with a huff of a laugh.
Boba looks at Peli and then to Din. “She’s your deputy.”
Peli nods. “Yeah, that’s right. I’m his sidekick now. How you like that!”
“I thought he had good taste,” Boba says with a laugh.
“She had good enough taste with you,” Din says with a cheerful tone. “We even patrol together, Boba.”
“Oh, now you’re trying to make me jealous,” Boba says as he pops his vambraces into place. Din thinks about how much he’s missed patrolling with Boba. Those were good nights, back when they were both bounty hunters and Din didn’t think he would become saddled by responsibilities as big as being the sheriff of a town like Mos Eisley.
Peli laughs. “I’m glad you two are friends.”
“We may not be when we think this thing over,” Din says with a bit of snark in his tone.
“If you are, then I’m through with both of you,” Peli says as she crosses her arms.
“Boba, sounds like we need a new mechanic,” Din says.
“You couldn’t find better and you know it,” Peli says to them with challenge in her eyes. Then she gets her usual co*cky grin and says, “How about I buy you all a drink? I’m sure Mos Eisley can survive a glass of spotchka. It’s been too long, Boba.”
“I’d love it, but I promised Din I’d do something for him,” Boba says as his final armor piece goes into place and he picks up his helmet. “Didn’t I?”
“Yes you did,” Din says.
“Unless you want to do my errand…?” Boba says with a sly grin that makes Din’s heart ache. He’s missed him. Gods, he’s missed Boba.
“You can do your own work, Boba,” Din says. He has responsibilities in town. He can’t go off in the desert with the man he has tried to stop being in love with a thousand times and failed.
Boba looks at Peli and says, “You gonna buy us that drink later?”
“Of course,” she says with a wink.
He puts on his helmet, seals going into place with a hiss and they leave the washroom as a trio. To Din, Boba asks, “Where’s Mok Shaiz’s estate? I know it’s outside town, but the prick didn’t exactly give me the best directions.”
“You take the main road north out of town until you cross the dry riverbed and come to an ancient pillar,” Din says.
“Ancient pillar,” Boba says, his voice almost robotic through the vocoder, the warmth dissipated.
“That’s the Tusken boundary,” Din says.
Boba co*cks his head. “Tuskens?”
Din nods. “You’ll ride west from there about 30 clicks, and you’ll get to Mok Shaiz’ estate.”
Boba takes a breath and turns to Motto and says, “Remember, I’m coming back for that drink.” He takes a couple steps then looks back at Din and says, “I left a few things in—”
“I’ll take care of it,” Din says.
Then Boba pulls him in and taps their helmets together before walking out the doors of Madam Garsa’s Inn, leaving Din and Peli standing on the front porch to watch him depart on his speeder bike.
“Mad at me for interrupting, Din?” Peli says as Boba disappears around a corner.
Din huffs a laugh. “You know better than that, Peli.”
“You must really like that man,” Peli says with a knowing smile. She knows more than anyone else about them. “Do you want me to tell you about him?”
“You don’t have to,” Din says. He knows Boba better than most. Then again, there’s plenty Boba keeps to himself, too.
“I know I don’t; that’s why I want to,” she says as they start walking back towards the sheriff’s office. “I met Boba right after my husband was killed—I’m pretty sure I told you that.”
“Yeah, you did.”
“There I was, stranded on Tatooine,” Peli says as they mosey along, nostalgia in her tone that Din can’t help but be amused by. “A gambler’s widow and not a credit to my name. Not even my damned tools because that bastard sold them! And you know how Mos Eisley could be back before the War.” Din nods. It wasn’t a good place, especially for anyone young and alone without fighting skills. Peli came a long way over the years in that regard. She continues, “Boba was the first person to be good to me. Hired me to fix his ship. Helped me get on my feet. For a while I thought he was interested.” She laughs at the concept. “But no, that wasn’t the case. He’s just…I don’t know, Din. With Boba, he’s… He’s just… He’s…”
“He’s a top hand,” Din says.
“I suppose so,” Peli says. “You never told me how long you’ve known him?”
“I’ve known Boba a long time; since before the war,” Din says. He isn’t sure how to put the rest together, so he just says, “We travelled some together.”
Peli raises her eyebrow but says nothing else on the subject. “I suppose that means it’s very complicated.” She rolls her eyes. “Mandalorians.”
Din laughs at that, but it’s mostly true. Being Mandalorian has always complicated things for them. He says, “I think there’s some speeders that need to be maintained at the hangar.”
“Rude,” Peli says with a smirk.
***
The Tusken village is a well-established place and has been for many, many generations, going back to long before the off-worlders came to Tatooine. One of their scouts stands watch at the edge of their territory and sees the green armor—a color that stands out bright in the almost white brightness of the afternoon suns. Seeing a rider heading to the estate of the Ithlorian scum is no surprise to them these days. More hired guns for them to fight, they know.
Not long after, a familiar off-worlder comes to the village. Few are friends to their people, but the one called Cali Dez is a friend of their people who sells them moisture vaporator supplies and has more than once kept them aware of danger. She arrives in her speeder and parks away from the banthas, a respectful sign to keep from frightening their herd.
The guards at the edge of the village greet her as a friend, and she signs to them as she says, “I have important information for the chief.”
She is taken immediately to the largest of their structures, and the chief is waiting for her with his honor guard. He gestures to her and she signs as she says, “Word in town is Mok Shaiz has hired himself a gunslinger—Boba Fett. And Fett rode out to Shaiz’s estate about an hour ago. I want y’all to be careful.”
The chief responds in Tuskan with one of his entourage signing to her, “We appreciate your warning. This bounty hunter is known to us. We will keep watch.”
After a few signs to his people, they shout in Tusken, the howls reaching to the distant scouts. Watch for the Green Rider. Watch for the bounty hunter. Send the scouts to the watch points!
***
The Mok Shaiz estate is a testament to the vast difference in wealth on Tatooine. Where Mos Eisley is a dusty scughole made up of the poor and desperate, the estate is clean and bright under the suns. Boba Fett stops at the gate where two Pyke guards await.
“I’m here to see Mok Shaiz,” Boba says with a bland tone.
The guards look him over, and one says, “He’s up at the main house. He’s been expecting you.”
Without a word, Boba continues on. It’s a long drive, the kind meant for ego. He’s ready to be back in Mos Eisley. He wasn’t ready to see Din Djarin, but now that he has, all he wants is to get back to that scughole town and spend time with a man he long ago accepted he would love forever even if this damned galaxy was constantly taking them in separate directions.
When Boba reaches the main house, an entire group of mercenaries are outside. The combination does not impress Boba in the least. Most of them look like someone walked into a cantina and asked if anyone knows how to shoot a blaster and hired whoever raised their hand.
Boba doesn’t even get off his speeder.
A tall, lean Twi’lek in green accoutrement walks out and says, “You must be the famous Boba Fett, great gunslinger known throughout the Outer Rim.”
“I am here to speak to Mok Shaiz,” Boba says with a growl in his voice.
“I am pleased you have arrived! Please, get off your speeder make yourself comfortable.” The Twi’lek says, “Master Shaiz is glad that you have accepted his offer of employment, and any questions you may have, I will be more than hap—”
He is cut off by Boba tossing a bag of credits at his chest. “I won’t be here long enough for that. There’s what’s left of your expense money. Sorry about the rest of it, but that’s the chance you take. I’ve decided against working for you.”
A murmur goes through the gathered group of hired guns; Boba ignores them.
The Twi’lek says, “But you haven’t even discussed the terms? That isn’t how you are known to conduct business, Mr. Fett. Perhaps someone else influenced your opinion.”
“They did. The sheriff. Din Djarin,” Boba says. “His story is a little different from yours.”
“Well, perhaps the law doesn’t quite see it Mok Shaiz’s way,” the Twi’lek says in a neutral tone. “Since when did a hired gun get choosy? You’re paid to—”
“I’m paid to risk my neck,” Boba says in a stern tone that makes the Twi’lek clap his mouth shut. “And I’ll decide where and when I’ll do it; this isn’t it.”
One of the other gunslingers, someone Boba vaguely recognizes. He can’t remember his name, but he is young and brash, and he snaps off, “I get the feeling you just don’t want to go up against Sheriff Din Djarin.”
Boba huffs a laugh. “You know you’re just about right.”
“You think he’s that good?” the kid says.
“I tell you he’s that good.” Boba knows better than most that there’s no one better matched to him than Din. He turns his attention back to the Twi’lek and says, “Tell your Master this little piece of advice: If this bunch is all you’ve got, don’t tangle with Djarin. ‘Cause they don’t look tough enough to me to stomp a stringy womprat.”
The Twi’lek sets his jaw and nods, dropping away the façade of friendliness. “Well, Fett, if that is the way you think, then we don’t want you.”
“That’s good enough for—” Boba sees the same kid start to go for his rifle, and he calls, “Hey Corellian! Go ahead and pull that blaster if you want to, but you better speak to your boss before you use it cause he’ll be dead before I start on the rest of you.”
The rabble looks a bit like they want to test that theory, and Boba almost wishes they would.
“Don’t be foolish, Calican,” one of the others snaps.
Boba makes a note of the name. He’s heard of him here and there. Thinks he’s going somewhere in the Outer Rim. Somewhere other than an early grave, that is.
“I’ll remember what you said, Mr. Fett,” the Twi’lek says with a forced smile.
“You do that,” Boba says flatly. Carefully, he backs out of the long drive, keeping his eyes on the plethora of guns that were likely cowardly enough to shoot him in the back. Mok Shaiz’s lands extend far, and he is certain that there are plenty of places he could be disposed of quickly and with great force. But like most things in his line of work—face to face was the only option for turning down a deal.
He makes it away from the property without being murdered and Boba feels a little relief. He passes the first set of pillars marking the edge of Tusken territory. They are massive, worn smooth by the sand on the wind. He can’t read the writing and few even realize that such structures belong to the so-called Sand People. But Boba finds them fascinating, especially since he owes them his life. Still, he stays off their land.
There was no lie in the original deal: Boba was hired to take out the sheriff of Mos Eisley. He figured that the sheriff was like most of the law enforcement on Tatooine and another prick who needed to be removed instead of the kind who was making Mos Eisley a decent place to live.
Had they told him in the deal that it was Din Djarin he was hired to kill, he never would have accepted in the first place. Only a fool would go against someone like the Mandalorian. Boba certainly has no desire to try his luck, even if he didn’t want to bed him every time he was in the same sector. They are matched in ways that are frightening in a fight, and the time they spent working together was the most lucrative of Boba’s entire career.
Then Din chose to settle down after the war and Boba couldn’t. No one was willing to leave his kind alone. A man with a clone’s face was not welcome many places, and last Boba knew Din was on the planet of Navarro.
Now he’s only 20 clicks away.
This is what Boba is thinking when the blaster shot nicks off his left pauldron.
By instinct, Boba shoots in the direction of the shooter using the triangulation in his helmet. His aim strikes true and he sees the body fall.
He sees the clothing.
He sees.
“No.”
***
The scout is young. He is writhing, the sounds he makes are whines and whimpers, and Boba kneels down beside him with his medikit ready. The Tusken starts to scurry away from him, but Boba holds up his hands and signs, I am not an enemy.
The only response is agonized sounds.
Boba gets out the bacta spray and says out loud, “This will heal you.”
The pain is too much for the young warrior to fight back against treatment, and Boba is able to spray the bacta over the gut wound that would have otherwise killed him. Boba applies a treatment for the pain, then puts the kit back on his speeder bike. The young warrior is still unable to get up, but Boba knows the village isn’t too far away and his bike can carry them both.
Going into the damned village feels like a great way to get killed. He has never had a quarrel with the Tuskens in this part of Tatooine. He never had a quarrel with Tuskens. Period. But that does not mean that this will not look bad for him. From Din’s words, Mok Shaiz is working to get the water rights from everyone in this region, and that would include the village. Anyone working for the Ithlorian would be their enemy by default.
“Kriff,” Boba says after thinking it through a couple times and finally decides to just take his chances and puts the Tusken on his bike with him.
As he passes the stones that line the way towards the village, Boba sees a few banthas and noticed that there are guards along the high line of the dunes. He knows he is being watched. He can’t help but wonder how much of his actions have been watched so far. Regardless, he keeps his weapons online but does his best to look as non-threatening as a person in full Mandalorian armor can while carrying an injured member of their tribe strapped to his back.
At the edge of the village, Boba is met by five Tuskens who immediately remove the sleeping, healed warrior from Boba’s bike and Boba is certain he’s about to be in some sort of altercation because the others are holding their gaffi sticks in a position that could be considered casual but from his own polearm training is a centimeter from ready.
One of them wears the trappings of a decorated warrior, and they speak and sign to him, “What happened?”
Boba responds while signing, “I was shot by your scout. I shot back.”
“Yet he is healed. Why?” they ask.
“I am not your enemy,” Boba says and signs. “You are not my enemy either.”
Another warrior scoffs and bellows, “Bounty hunter, I do not believe you.”
“I don’t care if you do or not,” Boba says back.
The decorated one gestures to the one who bellowed out and they back away. The warrior says, “I appreciate you healing and returning our brother. If you were not honest and meant us harm, you would not have done so. Perhaps it is true, and you are friend to the People. For today, it is best that you leave.”
Boba isn’t sure what to say to that, so he just nods and departs the village.
***
As the suns set, Din Djarin and Boba Fett are sitting together in his quarters on top of the sheriff’s office while Peli Motto and Cobb Vanth are officially on duty for the night. They are drinking spotchka and Boba has his helmet off—as usual. Din still keeps his on, following the mandates of his Tribe. Boba has never questioned why he does this. He’s never even asked him what he looks like under his helmet. Everyone else has tried to force him to remove it in one way or another, but not Boba.
“What are you going to do now?” Din asks after listening to Boba’s recap of the day.
“There’s a few jobs posted by Jabba, as usual,” Boba says. “Miners are having some trouble around Anchorhead, needing help getting things sorted.”
“So I guess you’ll be leaving in the morning,” Din says.
Boba finishes off his drink. “Yeah. Probably as soon as dawn hits.”
Din isn’t sure how to say what he wants to say, but he knows he’s getting too old to not say it. He says, “Come back, will you?”
“I will,” Boba says. “If you need me, Din—if all this kriff gets out of hand? Comm me. You know how to find me.
***
A month later, Din Djarin hears that Boba Fett has been killed at the Pit of Carkoon.
Din finds the nearest bottle of strong alc and starts drinking.
