Chapter Text
It really spoke volumes about Jaster’s life so far that a campaign gone wrong, being betrayed by one of his best friends, and getting one of his knees blasted to bits did not make this day the worst he had ever had. It was absolutely terrible, of course, but not the ‘number one most terrible awful day’ he could remember.
He was conscious, for one. That certainly helped. Jango was fine, too, if the swearing on comms was any indication, and as long as those two facts didn’t change, there was no way for this to be the worst day ever.
That said, he had the feeling that this should have been his grave - that Montross had fully intended for Tor to kill him, to take over Headhunter Company before bending the knee to his new Mand’alor. Little gods knew what would have happened to Jango then - there was no way his verd’ika would have stood for that. He thanked the spirits that he wouldn’t have to find out.
Then, he thanked them again for the little nudge that had told him to wear his damned sen’tra. Dusty as the thing was, it still did its job to get Jaster in the air and away from Tor’s new toy - a vicious looking tank Jaster was sure had just come off of the MandalMotors assembly line on Concordia. He couldn’t help but wonder about the tech attached - did it have shielding? What was the armor like? What was the fire rate on those turbolasers - but quickly decided these thoughts would have to wait until he was no longer dodging said turbolasers, and he could get what little remained of the company off of this death trap. He swore he could hear Tor’s enraged shrieking over the flak of laser fire, and could hear the whine of a jetpack engine that said Montross was in pursuit.
In pursuit. To kill him. His ver’alor.
That was going to sting for a while.
“Mereel - en route to the extraction point, ETA 2 minutes-” he grimaced as he dodged between Montross’ blasterfire, a burning pain shooting up his leg, “-Gonna be a bad landing, hostile on my six - sitrep, now!”
“Myles, at the extraction point. We’ve got twenty verde gathered, and another 10 in need of medical attention. Engines are warmed up for you, Alor, any update on Vertigo Sq-”
Jango’s voice cut in. “-I’m going to kill Montross. He’s dead! That hut’uunyc dar’manda got his entire squad killed, and is trying to kill Jaster right kriffing now-” Static crackled across the comms, and for a moment Jaster feared the worst. A moment later he could hear the whine of another jetpack, approaching from his right, before comms opened again. “-Silas is en route to extraction point, ETA in five. I’m in pursuit of the traitor,” Jango said through gritted teeth. Craning his neck behind him, Jaster could see the moment Montross knew he was outnumbered, as Jango gained on him.
“Oya,” Myles murmured from their end of the comm, before Jaster could cut in with “-Negative, Jango, we’re leaving-”
He needn’t have worried. Jango fired one shot, and it rang true enough to cut one of Montross’ engines. Not enough for it to explode, but Montross spiraled and disappeared below the treeline. Jaster couldn’t tell if Montross had survived the fall, but his own emotions were too jumbled up to decide if he preferred him alive or not.
A moment later, the dropships came back into view, and Jaster fumbled with the controls on his jetpack before beginning a messy descent. The rockets petered out just a little early, and Jaster fell the last 10 feet into the hard dirt - he couldn’t help but cry out as the impact sent agony through the bad knee into his spine, and the leg gave way. Before he could fully hit the ground, one of his verde caught him and lowered him down more gently, calling for a medic all the while. Jango wasn’t far behind, and the yelp he made watching Jaster go down was audible over the roar of the ship’s engines and Jango’s own jetpack.
“-Jaster!”
“I’m alright, I’m fine-” Jaster interrupted, already trying to get back up on his good leg.
Myles looked none too pleased. “With all due respect, Alor, the hell you are-” He started saying.
“I’ll be fine, it’s just my knee. We’ve got to get out of here first - Jango, help me up.” Jaster continued, as the medic trotted up to their little party outside the dropship.
Jaster couldn’t remember their name off the top of his head - maybe he was a little more rattled than he thought, but he wasn’t about to admit that before they were all safe and not here anymore. Jango hesitated a moment, looking between Jaster and the medic, who stared for a moment before nodding. He looped an arm around Jaster and hefted him to his feet, guiding his steps into the ship. Myles took his other side, and the rest of the verde finished loading up with an efficiency Jaster would have been proud of had he been aware enough to notice. It was only once he was tossed in a seat that the medic approached again, and Jaster barely registered the sting of the hypo before his eyes started closing.
—
Waking up from sedatives always made Jaster feel vaguely nauseous. He felt as though he had been drifting in and out of consciousness for a few minutes before he finally blinked awake enough to register where he was - the medbay of The Ghost of Dxun, Headhunter Company’s base of operations. The smell of antiseptic tinged with the sickly sweet of bacta burned his nose for a moment, and he groaned as sensation seeped back into his heavy limbs. The painkillers were very clearly doing their job, as he could hardly feel what was sure to be a long-lasting ache in his ruined knee.
His grumbling woke the figure sleeping to his right - Jango sitting up bleary-eyed, curls flattened against his cheek, still smelling of dirt and blaster smoke - though the medic had clearly made him change out of his filthy armor and flight suit.
“Good morning, Jango.” Jaster spoke softly, as Jango rubbed at his face and stifled a yawn. A grumbled noise was his only other response out of the exhausted teen for a moment. “You alright, Jan’ika?” Jaster stifled a laugh as Jango rolled his eyes immediately.
“Shouldn’t I be asking you that, old man? I’m fine, just… a little tired. Bruises. The usual.”
Jaster shot him a look, hearing the twinges in Jango’s voice that betrayed just how exhausted and worn the teen really was.
Jango sighed at Jaster’s suspicious glance. “Look, I'm okay. Really. More importantly, uh, this isn’t just a social visit. I gotta get you caught up, a-and update the others on your status. Okay?” He nodded once, decisively, as if trying to convince himself of his own words. Looking around for a moment, Jango seemed to be gathering his thoughts as he bounced one of his legs. “....Water?”
Jaster accepted the little pouch of water, trying valiantly to drink it without grimacing. Jango was stalling, and if he was stalling, things were not good - he felt his nausea spike as the water slid down his throat, the worst case scenarios started to flash through his mind. There was no way for things to have gone well, but he could still hope. A few more verde making it back to the extraction site, recovery efforts going well, something-
Jango spoke up, cutting Jaster’s spiraling short.
“Everyone who made it to the extraction zone got out, and made it back to the Dxun.” Some relief, then, that none of the ships had been shot down - “Of the hundred verde sent to Korda, twenty-six came back. Us included.” The roiling in Jaster’s stomach reached a fever pitch as Jango continued, “Eighteen are unhurt, minor scrapes - Myles, Skirata, and Vau among them. Four needed surgery, like you, and the other four are in the bacta tanks. Two didn’t make it, between landing and surgery.”
Jaster swallowed thickly, leaning back into his cot. They’d lost three-quarters of the team in, what, a few hours? Twenty-four survivors, out of a hundred. Dozens of verde who would never make it home. Loss was to be expected - they were warriors and Mando’ade, after all, but Jaster had never before led so many to their deaths, so many gone in one fell swoop. His Remembrances would be growing a lot longer tonight. From the way Jango spoke, at least The Dxun had been untouched - he had been afraid Tor would have coordinated land-and-ground strikes simultaneously, but strategy was never Tor’s strong suit-
“....Recovery? For the bodies?” Jaster tried, voice coming out weaker than he meant as he pulled himself out of the well of memories. His heart dropped further into his gut when Jango shook his head.
“Me ‘n’ Myles sent down some scouts to try, but between the Kordans and Kyr’tsad, we only got a few. They’re stripping the bodies and burning them. Better than leaving them to the carrion, I guess, but who knows what they’ll do with the armor…” Jango’s voice was flat and toneless as he spoke, but his knee kept bouncing. “No sign of Montross, either. Probably slipped off-planet, or holed up with Kyr’tsad. Vau suggested putting out a bounty on him, but we figured we should wait for your approval….?”
Jaster was silent for a long moment, trying to absorb everything Jango was telling him.
“...Wait, for now. Just- send a message around, make sure the other companies know he’s not welcome. We can talk action later.”
A soft yes, sir, was Jango’s only response as he stood to leave.
“-Jango.” Jaster called, and Jango stopped halfway to the door. “...Get some rest. Please.”
Jango nodded, and slipped out the door right as the medic entered.
—
It was only a few hours later when Jango returned, somehow managing to look more exhausted than before. His eyebrows were drawn together, and the dark circles that had plagued his face since Jaster found him on Concord Dawn had intensified. At the very least, he’d gotten clean - the acrid smell of blasterfire gone, replaced by fresh soap and that funny saltwater smell that seemed to follow him everywhere.
The medic had pronounced Jaster ‘in good condition’, that he would heal up fairly well provided he stayed in bed for the next few days, and kept weight off of his leg for longer. He had managed to bribe them into giving him a comm by promising he would stay in medical for an extra day, and that he would turn the thing off during the sleep-cycle hours. Thankfully, they knew there was no way to keep Jaster from his work, and left him alone after delivering the comm - the sensors stuck to his wrists would notify them if his vitals changed. In the meantime, Jaster had spent at least the last half hour fielding questions about their plan ahead - where they would go from here, how to contact the families of the lost verde, how command would need to be reorganized - and he was sure he looked just as exhausted as Jango.
Watching the boy stand awkwardly in the doorway, shifting his weight back and forth, Jaster was reminded just how painfully young Jango was - fourteen, barely a year past his verd’goten, and small to boot. A squad captain already, Jango could inspire loyalty and a fresh fighting spirit if he set his mind to it, and he did have the makings of a leader, but… he was still young. Fresh and untested.
Hell, the boy had been running missions with the Company since he’d sworn the creed, but this was his first time leading others into battle.
Jaster had chosen Jango to command one of the squads on this mission because it was meant to be easy, to let him get used to commanding his peers slowly - not watch their teams get mowed down as soon as they landed. Manda, Jaster knew the boy would be seeing the mir’jaa’ur a lot more frequently in the coming months.
'Should be easy credits’, Jaster seemed to remember saying at the brief. What a nightmare.
“Come on in, Jango. Can’t sleep?” Jaster beckoned the teen forward, and Jango quickly took the opportunity to slide back into the seat he had occupied earlier. He avoided Jaster’s gaze for a moment, tucking his knees up into his chest and making himself look even smaller.
“...I keep… I keep thinking about some of the things Montross said, before we left. That he didn’t trust you to make the right decisions anymore, that you didn’t have a clear head, that he should be in charge-” The words seemed to be tumbling out of Jango with increasing speed, and Jaster didn’t have any time to react before more came out, “- kriffing hells, I should never have let him go with you. If I had said something, maybe- maybe more people would have-”
“-Jan’ika, stop.” Jaster interrupted, and Jango took a deep breath, pausing before he could continue to grow more frantic. “It’s not your fault. It’s not - it wasn’t your responsibility to rein Montross in. He made his choices. I don’t think anyone really saw this coming.” Jaster reached over and put a hand on one of Jango’s knees, but Jango’s face screwed up further as he finished speaking.
“I did. I saw it coming. He was so mad when you said I’d be leading one of the squads, and he’d get mad if anyone suggested I’d be next in line when you- retire. He’d corner me and Silas all the time just to criticize our forms, or how we painted our armor, or whatever he could think of -” Jaster squeezed his knee slightly, and Jango managed to pause again and settle. “It’s just- I tried to tell you earlier, I really did. But, you said - just because we don’t get along doesn’t mean he’s a bad person. That I’ll have to work with people I don’t like, as a commander.”
Jaster felt like he was tasting something sour. Jango had come to him with concerns, in the past, but Jaster had brushed it off as the two having a mutual dislike of each other. He couldn’t expect all of his verde to get along, and had thought it was simple squabbling - Montross teased Jango, sure, but that wasn’t uncommon with the older generation working with the new. Jango had just hated being teased, he thought. The last few months, Jango hadn’t complained as much, and Jaster thought he was growing out of it.
“...Ordinarily, yes, that’s still true. You’ll never get along with all of your squad, but you should still trust them-”
“-That’s just it! I never trusted that- that - hut’uun! It wasn’t just that we argued - hells, I fight with Skirata all the time! But I know he’d never shoot me in the back.” Despite how worked up Jango was, he hugged his knees closer to his chest than ever. “-Montross was always looking to get rid of me. I know he was. There’s no way I was the only one he treated like that, either. I should have found proof, or fought back, or something. I should have tried to tell you again-”
“Stop. I’m sorry, Jango. I should have listened to you. I thought- I didn’t think Montross was capable of something like this. You saw something I didn’t, and I didn’t listen to you. It’s not your fault.” Jaster leaned over more, ignoring the twinge in his spine as he stretched. Unspoken, he thought the fault was mine, instead.
“...I know it's not, Jaster. I just wish things were different. I mean-” He scoffed lightly, but Jaster still spotted the welling of tears as Jango tossed his head, “why would you listen to me. Some little orphan you took pity on, junior verd fresh out of training. M’not even a real captain or your clan or anything, so. Why would you bother?”
Ah, thought Jaster, It’s not really about Montross, is it?
“...Jango. Jan’ika. Do you - do you think I don’t want you? That you aren’t worthy of being my son? Did Montross tell you that?” Jango looked up, startled, while Jaster tried to pull his chair a little closer to the bedside, “I’ve always thought of you like a son, Jango. And even if I didn’t, I should have listened to you. You’re one of my verde, my alor’ad’ika.”
Jango stared for a moment, dark eyes wide and teary, before he scrubbed violently at his eyes to keep from crying.
“But- if you- you mean it…? You really mean it? Why- why didn’t you just adopt me, then?” There was a little bite to his words, an unspoken accusation of why’d you make me wait? Why did I have to bear this alone?
Jaster sighed. “I thought you didn’t want me to. You told me as much, or so I thought.”
Jango’s brows knitted together again as Jaster pointedly ignored the tears that were starting to well up in his eyes anyway, despite Jango’s best efforts.
“...I suppose you were too... lost, to remember at the time. You’d been with us for a few months, maybe four or five? Not long, and you were still lashing out at your healers and instructors. Or anyone wearing blue and black, honestly.” Jaster huffed through his nose in an aborted laugh. “A little terror, you were, disappearing for hours at a time only to fall out of the ceiling, knife in hand. Your mir’jaa’ur, and mine, approached me and said they thought you needed a steadier presence in your life. That being adopted formally into a clan would make you feel more grounded, and that we weren’t going to dump you the next chance we got.”
“So, I went to the Goran be Aliit Mereel to talk about it, and get a besk’aliik made for you so if you said yes you could wear the crest right away. You must’ve followed me and overheard, because the next thing I know you’re busting into the goran’yaim with a knife, screaming at the top of your lungs that I wasn’t your buire, that I never would be, and that I couldn’t ‘take you away’ from them.” Jaster’s brow knitted together as well, eyes closing as he seemed to hear the memory, that little voice choked with tears and rage.
“...I never wanted to replace your parents, Jango. Never thought that I could. Cassius and Sarad were good, good people, and the galaxy is lesser for their loss. By the Manda, I would never take their memory from you. So, when we got you settled down, I told you it was alright, that I wasn’t going to adopt you if you didn’t want me to, and that was that.” Jaster chuckled a little. “You were so tired, after that, that you didn’t even try to fight about going to bed.”
By this point Jango had unfolded his knees from his chest and was leaning in to hear the story - brows furrowed all the while. “...I don’t remember saying that. Or doing any of that.”
“There’s a lot you don’t remember from that time, Jango. You were young, and you’d been through a lot. Maybe we can get some of the old guard to tell you what you were like, at that age.” Jaster’s tone was light, but the words left a bitter taste in his mouth - they both knew that half of that ‘old guard’ had just been killed in the disaster on Korda.
There was a long quiet moment before Jango finally looked back up to meet Jaster’s eyes. “Well, I want you to adopt me now. If- if it’s okay.”
“Of course, Jan’ika. Little gods, of course I will.” For a brief moment, Jaster’s exhaustion seemed to melt away, and even Jango looked a little brighter. “-Hand me my comm, will you? On the table there. Yes, there- we need a witness to the gai bal manda, after all -”
Jango fumbled with the comm for a minute, lagging behind as things suddenly started to happen very quickly. Jaster made a call (“Come down to the medbay, would you? My room - no, it’s not an emergency. Well, sort of - just get down here-”), and within five minutes there was a very tired Myles in their doorway, trailed by a curious Silas.
“What can I do for you, Alor, at this fine midnight hour?” Myles drawled, feigning annoyance. It was obvious though, from his unruffled silver hair and the fact he was only half out of his armor, that Myles hadn’t managed to sleep yet either.
“Ah, thank you for your timely arrival, Myles. We need a witness.”
Myles lifted one unimpressed eyebrow, golden tattoos wrinkling slightly. “...A witness, Alor. Dare I ask what for?”
Jaster shot him a wicked smile, all teeth - one that Jango mirrored easily.
“You’ll know. Ni kyr'tayl gai sa'ad, Jango Vhett be Aliit Mereel.” Jaster reached out and ran his fingers through Jango’s curls, Jango leaning into the affectionate touch easily.
Myles’ eyebrows arched even higher, and Silas let out a soft squeaking noise before darting off. Myles reached out an arm as if to stop him, but was too slow. “-Hey, Silas, where the hell are you going!?”
“Ruusaan owes me fifty credits!”
Jango and Jaster both managed a laugh, and even Myles cracked a smile.
“-Well, Alor, I’d better go make sure you get your cut of the betting pool. Congratulations on your adoption, Jango.” And with a lazy salute, Myles disappeared back out the medbay.
With all that said and done, Jaster finally leaned back in the cot - not surprised in the least when Jango shoved him lightly and wriggled into the bed next to him. He was still small - Jaster bet he always would be somewhat short - and as he closed his eyes, curls spread out haphazardly around his face, the teen looked years younger. More like the child he had been on Concord Dawn, years ago.
So, yes. All in all, this was not the worst day Jaster had ever had. Sure, it wasn’t good - betrayal, death, and failure would do that - but he had also gained a son. He would go the lengths of the universe if it meant that fact didn’t change.