Archive of Our Own ^beta

Keldabe City is, somewhat predictably, a silent mess when Jango and Spar arrive back on Manda’yaim.

Spar is groggy, still clearly battling with his little forced blood transfusion, but even he notices. “Jan’i…” he murmurs, looking out at the walls they can see pockmarked with soot from fire bombs. “What did they do?”

Jango winces. “Something stupid. Let’s get you back to Toki’s, then I’ll come back and get everything moved around.”

Spar really must be feeling bad, because he makes no argument.

It’s probably the fastest trip that Jango’s made through Keldabe City, since they’re not stopped by anyone, friendly or otherwise.

Toki isn’t alone when they arrive at the forge, to Jango’s surprise.

“Erda, su cuy’gar,” he says, shoving Spar into the tiny lift that goes up to the attic. “Right to bed,” he tells his tat’ka, who only rolls his eyes before the lift is going up.

Erda watches both of them with curiosity. “So, that is the mysterious little brother.”

Jango winces; he needs to actually tell Erda about Spar’s origins, unlike anyone else, even Toki. She cared for him a lot, when Walon wasn’t able to or when he needed to be taught other things. If anyone was going to know about Jango having a little brother, it would be her. “That’s Akaani’ka, elek.”

Erda nods, but it’s clear she expects an explanation later.

“What brings you to Keldabe City?” he asks.

“Rebuilding,” she admits, nodding to Toki. “A considerable portion of Jaster’s outer walls were damaged, and so were the surrounding houses. They were looking for Fetts.”

Jango isn’t surprised. “Pre wants something to hold over my head. Spar is the only option he knows about.”

“Your adiik is unknown but your vod’ika isn’t?” she asks, unimpressed.

“Blame the Keldabe City University,” Jango gripes. “Toki, did you not explain this?”

The togruta-mirialan Mando’ad looks up from a datapad. “There were other things to explain. Like that Akaa stays here, when he’s on planet, now, or about Duwem.”

Jango grunts and sits down with them. “Where is that droid?”

“Charging in the attic,” Toki assures him. “It did good work in helping to coordinate everyone, even the Duchy.”

“The Duchy got involved?”

Erda huffs. “They came late and arrested the verd’ike who were left behind at that point. Distractions who talk about how they were told to look for the Mand’alor’s kin.”

Jango pinches the bridge of his nose. “Shabuir.”

Toki pats his shoulder. “There will be more focus on you and Akaa, now. The Duchess, for some reason, thinks you were involved in the planning.”

“No matter how much we refute it, and it’s not like those di’kute will admit just who they’re calling Mand’alor,” Erda adds. “They keep their lips sealed on that at least. Fine enough, all of us know, even if the Duchess likes to pretend she has Vizsla under her thumb with that cushy governor's position.”

Jango hums. “How is Krownest?”

Erda growls; that good then.

“Are you still thinking of being involved in the Republic’s war?” Toki asks him.

Jango nods. “I promised Spar.” He’ll do what he can to save the Jetiise, and hopefully the damn galaxy.

Toki grimaces. “I hate to say this, but I think Akaa shouldn’t be on Manda’yaim once you start getting in the public eye. They will feel they have a better chance at controlling you, or at least getting a hold of him, if you’re clearly elsewhere.”

She’s not wrong.

“Krownest isn’t safe, either,” Erda agrees, though she’s clearly disappointed. “Any chance I may have one of them and the Wrens will try to curry favour. I cannot take the adiik, like we discussed.”

Of karking course. She’s right, of course, and he’d been thinking about it for a while. It still stings. On Coruscant, they’ll be hidden with the Jetiise.

It’s safer.

Jango sighs. “They may try to turn the Republic war into a proxy for our own civil war,” he warns. “I could see Pre doing that.” He pauses. “I can see some of those on our side also wanting to join in, especially those who have been working as mercenaries.”

“Would they be able to?” Erda asks, unimpressed.

“Maybe. If they come to either of you, get in touch with me. The more people loyal to me, especially if Pre does decide to make it a proxy war, the better. But if he doesn’t, they need to be prepared for things to escalate here.” It’s all a mess. “This is for in the future, once this all gets going. For now, we have a little more time, and Spar needs a distraction.”

Toki looks over at the lift and the stairs. “Is he alright?”

“No.” Jango shakes his head. “I’ll call Kaapor to come over before I go to get the luggage. There was an incident while we were away. But he has changes to make on that axe of his, and other ideas I think. Erda, how long are you staying?”

“A few weeks. I will help with your vod’ika. Toki has also talked about what a clever verd’ika he is. I look forward to seeing how he does in the forge.”

Jango can’t help his smile. “Can you help me bring in the luggage?” he finally asks. “I think we should talk.”

Erda’s eyes spark. “Of course.”

Erda’s estimation is, in the end, “If you say he is your vod’ika, he is your vod’ika.”

Jango’s relieved, though he always knew she was practical and Mandokarla. Of course she’d think like that.

Kaapor comes and goes, checking Spar over and putting him back to bed and leaving his medicine with plans to check him over again a week later. The baar’ur has his hands full, but Spar is mostly an easy patient, or at least easy to respond to.

Jango leaves Toki and Erda to the forge and settles in with his sleeping tat’ka in the attic.

Spar’s sleep is fitful and he can’t help but blame himself. If he’d been able to protect him better, if he’d been faster to get to that burial chamber, if he’d left him in the village or on the ship.

“You’re acting like they would have let you hide them away,” Akshita’s smooth voice prods at him.

He looks up and is surprised to find that while she does look like Sar and Depa, like he always assumed, and Rama, she also has features he sees in his own face, in Spar’s and Boba’s.

He really, really doesn’t like this new development of seeing the ancestors.

“Spar—.” He shuts his mouth again; she’s right. Spar wouldn’t have.

Akshita sighs and sits next to him on the bed, though her attention shifts to Spar’s pained face. “All of you have your trials and your targets on your back, but Akaanik’sha is not someone who just allows themself to be protected and teenagers are never easy.”

Jango snorts quietly.

“You should speak to that custodian of yours,” Akshita adds, “and ask him what you were like.”

Jango bristles at that. “I don’t need to.”

Akshita looks up, clear brown eyes unimpressed with him. Still, she doesn’t press. “Cassus and Dara have been talking about how you can see us now. And that Akaan’ika might too.”

“I don’t know if he can yet, and I don’t want to find out. Not now,” Jango says immediately. “He’s—.”

“Fragile. Yes. I remember how terrified they were when they first began to hear Blue and I, and I’ve certainly heard the horror stories of what Dara and Cassus witnessed in reaction to them. But you can’t protect them forever.”

Jango groans and rubs his face. “We need to hide it from him. After everything is settled, on Coruscant, I’ll tell him so he’s not surprised. Is there a way for you to stop being visible?”

Like that, Akshita disappears from his view, though after a few moments she reappears, looking annoyed. “It takes more energy than I’d like. But it can be held and I think I’d still be able to speak. We will practise with you before we speak with Akaani’ka again.”

It’s more of a relief than it probably should be and his shoulder sag. “Thank you.”

Akshita smiles at him. “You’re a good brother, but you also take too much on yourself, too. It’s the least we can do to help.”

Jango looks down at Spar and smooths his thumb over his pinched expression. “It’s difficult to be the one to raise a sibling,” he says after a while. “Sometimes I think it would have been easier to just…I don’t know, raise him as my own child or just leave him alone. But I couldn’t do either of those things, not with everything he remembers.”

Akshita hums softly. “And being a typical older brother, and a typical Mand’alor, you tried to do everything on your own.”

Jango bristles, but it’s just another reminder that sooner or later he has to tell Walon that Spar is alive, and face all of the disappointment and grief the older man who did his best to raise him the last four years of his adolescence felt from being denied Spar.

Spar’s not his kid, he’s Jango’s buire’s kid…but Walon was close enough to being a buir, just like Ba’tat Jaster was. Enough that Boba calls him ba’buir, sometimes, and Jango used to call him—.

Ugh.

Would it really have been fine to let him raise Spar properly, even outside of the issues with Skirata’s big mouth and finding out about either Spar’s talent or continued existence? Spar wouldn’t have forgotten their buire, couldn’t have. But it might have been a bit more of a comfort to him, and a bit more of a relief to Jango.

But he’s made his choices. He has to live with them and live with Spar’s distance from Walon, live with Walon’s disappointment and longing.

“Ugh,” he says, echoing his earlier inner monologue.

Akshita laughs at him. It sounds a lot like how Par’buir would laugh, something between a twitter and a boom, not something you’d expect from either of them. “Take care of yourself, Jango,” she says after she stops. “Or you’ll never be able to take care of your family.”

With that, she’s gone.

Jango sighs and leans back against the headboard of the attic bed, looking down at Spar again.

One more night and then he’s back off to Kamino, and then the next time he sees him it will have all changed.

The war will be starting.

He shuts his eyes; he’ll win this damn war if it’s the last thing he does.