An outlet for obsessions

The generator hadn’t been damaged, and rummaging through the icy cooler proved that it thankfully wouldn’t need to be replaced either, but the rest of the kitchen was a different story. He mentally went through the list of things he would need to try to fix or buy again, and the familiar dread of worrying over credits gripped him for an instant before he remembered it was no longer such an issue these days, thanks to the New Republic and their much more frequent and reliable payments.

“How about some krill chowder then we’ll go check if the fresher made it?” he suggested.

“Ah!” Grogu agreed, jumping from his back to stand on the counter as he set about warming them a couple of bowls in the heating unit. It made a new, clanking, worrying sound, but it seemed to be working reasonably well still.

As they sat across from each over the counter – Grogu simply plonked himself down while he managed to rescue a sturdy metallic stool from under some rubble – it struck Din that it had been weeks since they had a quiet moment like that, just the two of them. Home and safe. He took off his helmet and inhaled deeply, the pungent smell of the chowder a welcome one.

Grogu looked up from his bowl and his ears perked up. He knew that they’d be staying home for a while if he’d decided to remove his helmet to drink his soup rather than inhaling it as quickly as possible from the corner of his mouth.

“Kind of a close one, huh?” he acknowledged.

Grogu stopped slurping his meal once more, waiting for him to elaborate. But those were not easy words to say. He hadn’t come this close to not making it for a long while. Not that he actually kept track of such things, but ever since the kid had become his apprentice he’d tried to be more careful. One thing was for certain though, he needed time to let his body heal properly. Time to let the child be a child again for a bit. Time to come to terms with the fact that his son had saved him from certain death. Twice.

“Let’s take a break, we have enough credits for a while and the Anzellans need to help me finish fixing a few things on the Crest before we hit up the Colonel for a new mission.”

The child nodded, pleased with that decision, then pointed at the missing roof.

“That, too,” Din agreed. “I’ll need to find a builder in town, I’m sure Greef can recommend one.”

Such luxury to have enough credits to actually be able to pay someone to handle that for him instead of having to figure out how to do it on his own. He was certain he’d be able to manage it somehow, but he’d rather focus on the Crest. Getting her just right was something he actually looked forward to. She would soon fly even better than the old one, and the prospect made him smile.

Grogu yawned loudly and dropped his empty bowl on the counter. His son needed some sleep, but he could tell he was still fighting it, his eyes resolutely open and his small hands jittery.

“I’ll go check if the boiler survived and draw you a bath, what do you say?”

The warm water would soothe the kid and he’d be down in no time. But his son made a face, because he knew it was his usual strategy and it meant bedtime.

“You can play in the water with your toys for as long as you like,” he added as an incentive, and it worked – it usually did.

“Bwah!” Grogu chirped, jumping down from the counter.

As the boy played noisily among his bath bubbles in a corner of the room still covered by some roof, Din found a large enough tarp to attach to the ceiling for the time being. It would do the trick unless it started raining hard, but the weather report he’d listened to on the transceiver seemed to be reasonably optimistic.

After making sure that Grogu was still busy enough in his washtub – he was – Din set about freshening up. Their clothes had survived the ordeal as they were packed in sturdy cases in the bedroom and it felt nice to put on something clean after his shower. He rubbed some healing salve over the wounds that required it and that he could easily reach in his bruised and stiff state, and decided the rest could be dealt with if it still hurt the next day.

The boy had started to play more quietly in his bath, and the splashing sounds had almost stopped – he knew he’d quickly ask to be picked up, and as soon as the thought entered Din’s mind he saw little arms reach up towards him. Grogu looked impossibly tiny and young as he slowly dried him and dressed him again in clean clothes. It amazed him anew that such a tiny being had rescued him. Travelling all across the Outer Rim with even tinier creatures and knowing exactly what to do. Choosing to stay behind once he’d been offered a safe escape despite his injunction to leave. And then taking care of him. Healing him. Making sure he didn’t die.

“That poison that infected me, you had to find an antidote for it, right?” Din asked as he slowly put each of his tiny arms into their respective holes.

Grogu nodded languidly.

“You healed the wound first, but it wasn’t enough,” he added, to another answering nod. The child had frequently healed some of his injuries – most times without his acknowledgment or approval. He had brief flashes of his comatose state on the forest floor. A feeling of warmth and reassurance that the close proximity of his son provided. Fresh water clearing his senses for a few stolen seconds. And then a weird taste in his mouth before he finally emerged from his oblivion.

“You found someone who could help,” he eventually surmised, and the boy looked up. As tired as he was he could still read worry in his eyes – he knew he wasn’t supposed to interact with strangers or show them his powers.

“You did good, kid,” he immediately reassured him, stroking his back. “I know you’re usually a good judge of character on who you can trust.” And this was true enough, as it had also been the case with Rotta, with whom he hoped to cross paths again, since anyone with such a long lifespan could be an invaluable presence in the child’s life one day. “And I know I can trust you with my life, just as you can trust me with yours.”

The child smiled, pleased to receive such high praise. He gripped a couple of his fingers tight and cooed, his ears slowly lowering as he yawned again.