Chapter Text
It’s only in the aftermath of the Battle of Endor, when everyone’s been accounted for and the last of the Imperials have been arrested and imprisoned in makeshift hovels for the night - it is only then, as pyres of various sizes and shapes flicker towards the sky accompanied by the curious musical tunes of Ewoks banging on Imperial helmets - it is only there that Rex properly meets Luke Skywalker for the first time.
Of course, he’s heard of the kid - he couldn’t be part of the Rebellion and not- but with the constant missions and upkeep and hopeless search for any of his missing vod’e over the past few years, Rex never truly found a moment’s reprieve to finally meet his General’s kid.
When he finally does, it’s late into the night on Endor’s moon, and Luke is alone, arms resting against a wooden railing as he watches over his friends and comrades as they continue to celebrate with their furry hosts. Rex almost doesn’t believe his eyes as he stares at Luke, taking in the kid who’s a spitting image of his father, sandy hair and blue eyes and calculated stance - all softened by his mother’s stature and bright smile. Staring at the twenty-year old ghosts that overlay the kid, it takes Rex a few minutes and various Kix-approved breathing exercises to work up the urge to approach the kid, clutching his drink like a lifeline.
“General Skywalker.”
Anakin’s bright blue eyes take Rex in as he steps closer, a smile forming on Padme’s lips, but it’s their son who actually speaks.
“Ah, uh, Commander Rex, was it?” Luke asks, words awkwardly fumbling from his mouth and making Rex chuckle. “Leia told me about you. Said you’ve been a fierce supporter of the Rebellion from the beginning.”
“Prefer ‘Captain,’ actually, but, yeah,” Rex grins, moving into place at the railing beside Luke, overlooking the celebrations, “Kinda hard not to be when you’re at fault for helping in the Empire’s Rise. Unknowingly or not.”
Luke stares hard at him, eyes narrowing, until it seems to click and the familiar blues of Anakin widen at Rex, a haunting, heartwrenching sight that nonetheless makes the old Captain smile.
“You’re a clone!”
“Yeah, kid. 501st, Torrent Company,” Rex states, a bittersweet smile on his face before taking a swig of his drink. “Served under your father for the entirety of the war, actually.”
Luke’s eyes seem to widen even more as he stares, mouth slightly agape. There’s a sadness in his eyes, one that Rex understands, thinking back to the report he had had to give Mon Mothma and the other Rebel leaders. The Death Star II had been destroyed, along with the Emperor and Darth Vader, both of whom fell to Rebellion Hero Luke Skywalker.
Looking at Luke, Rex knows the report was a bunch of bantha osik .
“Your father was one of the best men I ever knew,” he offers. “In hindsight, all of us should have seen the path he was on. I’m sorry for what happened, General.”
Luke frowns. “Captain, all due respect, but it was a war. I doubt anyone could have stopped what happened. The Jedi themselves couldn’t. Kriff, not even Ben could!”
Rex blinks, squinting at Luke as he pauses for a moment. “We’re definitely tableing the Kenobi discussion for later, but I don’t think anyone’s told you a lot about your father as he was… have they?”
Luke just bites his lip, looking down, and Rex has his answer.
“Thought so. No one but myself is really around to tell anymore. Probably the last clone left now, besides a few outliers.” Rex sighs, thoughts drifting to his brothers like Wolffe, who’d gone on his own path, and Echo, who he was sure was still out there. Somewhere. Clone Force 99 couldn’t have been caught up in-
“-me about him?”
Rex jerks, head snapping to look at Luke, who looked sheepish.
“Sorry, got lost in thought. Could you repeat that?”
“Could you… tell me about him?” Luke repeats, expression open and mournful. “My father.”
Rex feels a tension slide out of his shoulders, staring at the blonder, shorter mirror of his former General with a slight grin. “Yeah, General, I can tell you about ‘im. Anakin and your mother.”
The moment Rex meets Leia Organa-Solo, a mere few days following Endor, he’s stunned.
Just like with Luke, he’d heard of her and seen glimpses over the years from files and meetings, but nothing could have prepared Rex for seeing the General right in front of him, a damn near clone of Padme, staring at him with a fierce expression.
“Dank farrick, they had twins? ”
It’s a year after Endor and well into the beginnings of the New Republic when Rex gets the holocall from Luke that Han and Leia are doing well, as are the new additions.
“Jacen and Jaina,” Luke informs pleasantly, smiling brilliantly even in translucent blue. “They’re waiting for their last uncle to visit, Captain.”
It takes Rex four days to finish his mission and make the jump through hyperspace back to Coruscant.
Four.
Long.
Days.
When the city-planet finally comes into view, and Rex finds the correct landing pad, he spots Luke and R2 waiting patiently for him.
“The ghosts of your past say hello, Captain,” Luke greets with a bantha shit-eating grin.
Rex just rolls his eyes with a laugh as he approaches, bending slightly to pat R2 on his dome, who trills a greeting in binary.
“I assume the Princess isn’t pleased about them.”
“No,” Luke agrees, grinning wide, “but her kids love it.”
“‘Course they do,” Rex mutters, standing up fully. “All Skywalkers are menaces.”
Luke cackles, stalking forward to embrace Rex in a hug. The old clone relaxes into it, relishing the attachment the new Jedi gives without consequence.
“Welcome back, Rex.”
“ Vor entye , General.”
Although Chewie reigns eternal as favorite uncle, Rex likes to think he and Luke put up a decent fight over the years.
Chewie may be the fun uncle, but Luke’s ability to show the twins how to subtly mess with their dad is almost enough to tip the scales. And Rex, with his endless war stories and tales of the former Republic, is their ba’vodu who always brings various toys and treats much to their parents’ dismay.
By the time Jacen and Jaina reach beyond their toddler years, Luke’s New Jedi Order has become well-established on Yavin IV with a fair dozen pupils or so to its name. With the not-so-helpful advice of past Jedi, Luke has enough to form a baseline but it’s Rex’s insight of the Jedi’s failings that really ties the Order together. The rules of attachment, of emotion, are relics of a bygone era - replaced with monthly parental visitation and open communication between teacher and students.
It makes Rex sigh contentedly every time he thinks of the New Order, especially when he discusses it with Ahsoka. As hesitant as she is to fully support a revival of the Jedi teachings, Rex can always elbow her into smiling her assent.
(Anakin’s ghost never hurt matters either, although it could be quite amusing to see the Commander shrieking and flailing at seemingly thin air.)
It’s about six years following the Battle of Endor, and right around the third anniversary of Luke’s New Jedi Order, when Rex gets the strangest holo-message of his life from the kid.
It contains the small hologram of Luke Skywalker, obviously fighting a blush in spite of the blue hue, detailing the befriending of Grogu’s father over the past few months. Who, of course, happens to be a Mandalorian - one who keeps to the older, more traditional Mandalorian values. And, of course, Luke is calling for Rex’s help for a further understanding of Mandalorian culture- not that it matters that Rex isn’t a ‘true’ Mandalorian, of course, no, because Luke is a Skywalker and oblivious to these sorts of things, and Rex is cursed to forever be entangled within the dramatics of the Skywalker family line.
All of this, of course, translates into Luke’s obvious plea of: “Rex, I have a crush on the hot single dad of my student, please send courting details of Mandalorian culture.”
Luke doesn’t say it in as many words, but Rex dealt with General Skywalker 1.0 ‘hiding’ a relationship with Senator Amidala throughout the Clone Wars - he can read between the lines of emotional blindness now passed onto General Skywalker 2.0.
So, of course, Rex heads straight to Yavin IV, laughing like an idiot, and mentally making a note to call Chewie to spread the gossip of what is sure to be much worse than when Han and Leia were in the starts and stops of their relationship.
By the time Rex’s ship lands on Yavin IV, he’s calmed down but still smiling, hoping to the Manda that Anakin is losing it somewhere in the depths of the Force while Obi-Wan groans eternally at their collective disaster lineage.
Rex exits his ship slowly, habitually checking his battered spaulders, and strides toward Luke’s figure at the edge of the landing strip, near another ship that seems to be a pre-Empire Nu-class shuttle.
“General Skywalker, I hear you are in need of a culture tutor,” he exclaims the moment he’s within hearing distance, smirking as Luke flushes and tries to hide it by covering his face with his cloak’s hood. “Kid, that isn’t going to work and you know it.”
“Just let me live in my misery, Rex.”
“What did I come all this way for then, if you’re going to be like that, hmm?”
Luke huffs a laugh, and it causes Rex to smile in turn.
“Alright, just… don’t say anything in front of Din, okay?”
“‘Din,’ huh? First name basis with a Mando is pretty serious, Luke.”
Luke flushes an even brighter red before beginning to walk off, much to Rex’s continued amusement as he follows.
“I’m serious, kid, I may not be a Mandalorian, but even I know that’s-”
“What do you mean you’re not Mandalorian?” Luke comes to an abrupt halt beside Rex, causing the clone to backtrack and stare. “But… your armor? And you speak Mando’a?”
“The armor’s based on Jango’s,” Rex answers, knocking a fist against his left spaulder. “The language came from whatever a brother could gleam off-duty and from our older younger brother on Kamino.”
Luke frowns, scrutinizing him. “I don’t understand, how does that not make you a Mandalorian? You speak the language, wear the armor. Force, you all share genetic material with one!”
“Kid, that doesn’t mean-”
“Fett?”
Rex freezes in place as Luke simply moves a bit, glancing to his right as a Mandalorian in shining, unpainted beskar approaches them. In his arms, held against his silver chestplate, Rex can spy the large green ears of one Grogu Djarin.
“Din! I thought you and-”
“You’re not Fett.”
Mando’s voice is modulated, firm yet soft, and Rex crosses his arms over his own plastoid chestplate as the man approaches, eyes piercing even hidden behind beskar.
“No, I’m-”
“This is Captain Rex,” Luke interjects, sensing the tension. “Rex, meet Din Djarin. Din, Rex served with my father in the Clone Wars. He’s family.”
“A clone,” Djarin repeats, vocoder neutral.
“Yeah,” Rex draws out, uneasily. “How do you know the name Fett?”
Djarin seems to hesitate, but a glance at Luke has him plowing forward. “Boba Fett is a… friend of mine. One of Grogu’s bavodu’e .” At the name, Grogu coos and his father runs a hand over his head soothingly. “Fett is your brother, then.”
“He’s alive?”
Rex and Djarin both pointedly ignore Luke’s flabbergasted exclamation, gaze focusing on each other with mutual respect.
“Bob’ika,” Rex murmurs, thoughts flashing to the tale Han had told him years ago of accidentally knocking Boba into the Pit of Carkoon. “He survived?”
“With damage, but yes,” Djarin responds, helmet tilting. “He has retrieved his beskar’gam and currently rules as Daimyo of Tattooine in the stead of the Hutts.”
Rex can’t help a laugh and smile at that, pride radiating off him. He couldn’t believe it! Bob’ika ruling a planet! If only the rest of the vod’e could see it too. The thought causes Rex’s smile to slip, but he couldn’t help the giddiness that persisted.
“Well damn,” he says, “kid’s really made a name for himself even after dying.”
Rex shakes his head, eyes taking in the Mandalorian before him as he laughs.
“What luck that- is that the kriffing Darksaber? ”
Djarin freezes, hand going to his belt where the innocuous hilt rested. Rex, on the other hand - his brain was short-circuiting on account of standing before the kriffing Mand’alor and staring like a di’kut.
“Mand’alor.”
Djarin just stares, one hand tightening its grip on the Darksaber’s hilt while the other holds his son ever closer, the little one’s cooing doing nothing to break the tension.
Rex stares back, still unable to move, before managing, “Last I heard, Bo-Katan had it.”
“According to her, she lost it,” Djain retorts, a dryness in his voice that rang of annoyance. “Somehow, it ended up in the hands of an Imperial Moff.”
Djarin’s buy’ce tilts down, gaze falling to his son who just coos and smiles. Rex doesn’t need to hear the story to realize what had happened.
“I’m gonna presume that Kryze didn’t take it all that well?”
Djarin huffs, causing Rex to smirk. “No,” he replies, taking his hand off the saber to instead run it along his son’s floppy ear. “I tried to give it back, but-”
“It must be won in combat,” Rex finishes, nodding along with Djarin. “So since you’re here, I’m going to assume Mandalore is in Kryze’s hands?”
“I wish,” Djarin answers, sighing heavily with all the tiredness of Cody, back when he’d dealt with his General’s antics. “Luke’s offered me to stay whenever I’m able, but after retaking Mandalore, there’s not as much free time as I would like.”
Rex casts a glance to Luke, who is once again flushed, before turning back to Djarin, who appears pensive.
“Captain, why are you here?” Djarin’s helmet is cocked to the side, as if just realizing that the clone and Luke hadn’t mentioned business. “Is something wrong in the New Republic?”
Rex laughs, taking joy in not just Djarin’s apparent obliviousness but Luke’s near inaudible groan of embarrassment.
“Nothing of the sort, Mand’alor.” Rex nodds in Luke’s direction. “General Skywalker simply wanted my help with understanding Mandalorian culture.”
Djarin’s helmet whips toward Luke, the astonishment seeping off him in waves. Luke just shrugs sheepishly at him, shooting a pointed glare toward Rex, before meeting Din’s gaze.
“I wanted to make you feel more comfortable,” Luke defends, a blush covering his face. “Plus, it wouldn’t hurt to be able to teach Grogu some of his father’s culture when he’s not here.”
Rex glances toward Djarin, grinning at the man’s apparent dumbfoundedness.
“Cyare…”
The breathless murmur from the Mand’alor’s vocoder nearly has Rex choking on his breath, his gaze flitting to Luke but the Jedi seemed none the wiser to the endearment. Manda, Skywalkers are oblivious.
Luke waves his hand, a nervous gesture that Rex recognizes from Anakin when a taboo topic arose. “Besides, Rex says he’s not Mandalorian, so it’s not like it matters.”
With that, the awe that seemed to ensnare Djarin dissipates, his helmet looking to Rex with a determination and anger that felt out of place. Rex almost wants to take a step back, but holds his ground.
“What do you mean you’re not Mandalorian?”
Rex startles, carefully choosing his words, “I… My brothers and I might have shared the genetics of Boba’s father, Jango, but blood doesn’t mean anything to Mandalorians. Aliit ori'shya tal'din.” Rex pauses. “We- I’m just a clone, sir, I don’t try to claim the culture of someone I never met.”
Djarin is frozen for a moment, unmoving, and Rex wrongly thinks for a moment that’ll be the end of it, but the Mand’alor erupts a moment later.
“You’re not just anything, Captain.” His voice is hard, unyielding, and Rex is sure his eyes are blazing under the beskar’gam. “You wear your armor, protect your brothers and the clan you have left. Boba told me you all learned the history, the songs.” Djarin pauses then, huffing in annoyance. “Just because no Mandalorian before has been a clone doesn’t mean you aren’t. Boba’s ner’vod , a clone the same as you, and he’s as Mandalorian as me or Grogu - same as you are, Captain Rex. And if anyone has an issue with it…” He motions toward the Darksaber hanging from his belt. “You’re Mandalorian, and no one can take that from you.”
The words ring clear in the silence that follows, Luke staring slack-jawed at Djarin, Grogu tapping his tiny claws against his father’s spaulder, and Djarin himself almost visibly simmering with fury. Rex, on the other hand, is more stunned than Luke, staring with wide eyes at his Mand’alor and playing back the words in his head - and the man is right, Rex realizes with a slight smile. Being a clone didn’t change anything, the simple fact that he and his brothers had done their best to learn as much of Mandalorian culture as possible for Boba and themselves…
And who is he to argue with the Mand’alor himself?
The rest of the three days Rex spends on Yavin IV boil down to him essentially babysitting Grogu while the Mand’alor drags Luke around the temple, teaching him all he can about Mandalorian culture. In the end, Rex’s presence isn’t truly necessary, but he really doesn’t mind - Grogu’s company enough, the little womp rat entertained enough by simple games Rex remembers playing with Cut’s adike way back when.
It doesn’t hurt that he gets a front-row seat to General Skywalker 2.0’s slow but steady descent into enamorment with the Mand’alor himself - an entertaining, awkward, bumbling descent that has Rex hiding laughter in Grogu’s little cloak more often than not - but something that brings Rex peace he hasn’t felt since Jacen and Jaina were born. And before then, at the start of his deployment with his vod’e in the 501st, before the Clone Wars truly hit their stride and started them all onto what was inevitable.
After his brief reprieve from New Republic service, Rex gets called back to Coruscant by Chancellor Mothma to be on Leia’s protection detail for a Senate hearing. Old and grey as Rex may be, he’s still respected among the New Republic and still one of their best fighters and tacticians. And he’ll never say no to visiting his niece, nor her children, even if it means he can’t spy on Luke and the Mand’alor for the time being.
Luckily enough for the old clone, he doesn’t have to wait long to see his nephew nor said nephew’s ven’riduur .
--
When Luke comms him a little under two months later, Rex isn’t sure what to think, even with the Jetii’s shining face, inviting him for a visit (nevermind that Rex has a standing invitation to Yavin IV, one of the few with the codes to get past the shields guarding the planet) and saying that Din wants to speak with him.
The Mand’alor - wants to speak with Rex?
His mind races the entire jump to Yavin IV, eventually coming to the conclusion that the Mand’alor must have use of him - or maybe wants to give him Boba’s comm code? But then why not send it through Luke? Or even directly?
It makes Rex’s head hurt, a faint pounding that can never compare to the ache of Order 66 all those years ago, and he takes a page out of Anakin’s playbook - go in expecting any and every thing to possibly happen and potentially go wrong.
He lands just outside the ancient Temple and, just like the last time he was here, Rex is greeted by his General’s kid. Except this time, the final Jedi Knight is accompanied by the Mand’alor, the two engaged in conversation but their attention focused on the tiny green ad’ika spinning in circles between them, enraptured by a frog hopping around.
Luke seems to sense his presence, greeting Rex with a wave as he gets closer. Djarin inclines his head briefly before resting once more on his child.
“Safe travels, Captain?” Luke teases, a blissful smile on his face. Teaching the New Jedi and hanging off the Mand’alor have done him good, Rex thinks mildly with an internal chuckle.
“Ratiin,” Rex returns, clasping Luke’s extended forearm in greeting. His gaze turns to the Mand’alor who now has Grogu in his arms, the rightful king’s eyes burning on him even behind the T-visor. “Su cuy’gar, Mand’alor.”
“Su cuy’gar, Captain Rex,” Djarin responds, in that uniquely firm yet gentle way of his. He turns to Luke, handing off Grogu carefully so as to not startle the kid, but with full faith in the Jedi. “Thank you for bringing him here, cyare.”
The endearment still makes Rex want to choke, especially when Luke just shrugs off the comment.
“Grogu and the other younglings have training today,” Luke offers, bouncing the kid in his arms with a smile at Rex. “I’m sure Din will be fine enough company until we’re done - even if he won’t tell me why this was so urgent.” The last comment is spoken toward Djarin, who Rex would bet credits is smirking under the beskar. Luke just rolls his eyes and turns around to go back toward the interior of the Temple.
Djarin pushes off the wall and bows slightly in Rex’s direction, surprising him. “I’ve got something for you back on the Vetina ,” he says and gestures to the other side of the landing pad where the same Nu-class shuttle from before awaits. “Walk with me?”
Rex gives a quick bow and a “yes, sir,” before moving into step beside Djarin.
The walk isn’t far, and neither man is in a hurry, so they meander slowly to the Vetina .
“Bo-Katan says she fought with you,” Djarin states, nearly startling Rex with his abruptness. “You, and your vod’e , and Ahsoka Tano. She speaks highly of you and your men.”
Rex can’t quite contain his snort at the notion, but Djarin allows himself a quiet laugh in commiseration.
“From what I gathered,” Djarin continues, “she holds no ill will toward you or Ahsoka, because you helped Mandalore in the closing days of the war. Every time I mention Boba, however, she becomes irrationally temperamental.”
“Sounds about right,” Rex agrees, “The war did a number on Mandalore even before the Empire, and Ahsoka was specifically called in by Kryze to help them out. I happened to be in the half of my battalion that went with her. Lost… lost everything in those final days of the war.”
“So Luke tells me. I was likely on Concordia at the time, slowly learning the Way after being Found. I wasn’t aware exactly what happened until a few weeks ago, when Luke explained that Grogu went through… What…”
Djarin trails off, voice catching. Rex sees his fists clench and feels a spike of sympathy and comradeship with the reluctant king, who is torn between sadness for his child’s trauma and anger at his inability to fix it. Rex still sees Fives’ pleading gaze in his sleep - he knows the feeling well.
“I think we were all lucky to survive in those final days,” Rex says quietly. Djarin watches him in silence. “We clones weren’t meant to last beyond the war - I’m lucky enough to have made it out of our flag ship with Ahsoka, let alone have lived to see Luke alive and happy.” He sighs, crossing his arms to resist the urge to mess with his spaulder. “Not sure how many of my vod’e are left, but I like to think I’m not the last.”
“Admirable perspective, Captain,” Djarin replies, just as they arrive at his ship. He beckons Rex onward as the two walk into the cargo area. “I, too, hope your aliit is safe among the stars - one way or another. If they’re anything like you or Boba, then they truly have mandokar along with my respect.”
“I… Thuh-thank you, sir,” Rex manages, blinking away what feels to be tears at his eyes. But of course, that’d be ridiculous. He watches as Djain moves a few boxes, obviously digging around for something. “Wh-why exactly am I here, again? I appreciate the validation as a Mandalorian, but -”
“Forgive me, Captain -” there’s a crash, then a grunt as Djarin pulls out a larger box, decorated with a Mythosaur skull “- for the secrecy.” The Mand’alor pushes the box toward Rex, then kneels down next to it and gestures for Rex to do the same.
“This,” Djarin unlatches the crate, “is a gift, from one Mandalorian to another.”
Rex’s mind goes static-y and almost embarrassingly blank with emotion as he takes in the pieces of unpainted beskar’gam resting in molded places within the crate. There’s a pair of sturdy, shining greaves and cuisses laid beside a neatly folded kama but Rex can spy the hints of 501st blue sewn into its lining. Alongside those are a pair of combination rerebrace-vambraces, a mix of what Djarin himself wears and what Rex and his vod’e did back in the war into one cohesive armor piece for each arm. The largest pieces in the crate, however, cause Rex to breath a shuddering sigh and gently rest his fingers along the beskar - the shining surface of a cuirass, molded in yet another fine melding of Mandalorian tradition and the Phase II designs. Atop it lays a bright, 501st blue-painted pauldron, one-sided, and made, it seems, to lay across the cuirass for further protection.
The sheer feeling of mirjahaal sweeps over Rex like the waves of Kamino, and he feels that sense of peace from near-on two months ago come racing back, even as or’trikar for his many, many lost brothers and sisters and every sibling in-between that was lost to a war fabricated simply for power and greed nearly overwhelms him.
Djarin shifts beside him, not saying a word, and Rex sinks back into himself at the reminder of his alor kneeling in ceremony with him. Rex doesn’t hesitate for a second in saying kark to ceremony, yanking Djarin close and into a fierce mirshmure’cya , pouring every raging emotion he can into the action even though the two of them are both as Force-null as a Tooka.
Djarin barely even stiffens before holding him just as close, a steadying and solid presence that Rex relishes.
“Vor entye, Mand’alor,” Rex whispers, barely managing to get out the words. He’s not crying, but it is a very near thing. He doubts Djarin would judge.
“Haat, ijaa, haa’it, ner ori’vod,” Djarin responds, a dismissal and a promise in five simple words. His grip tightens briefly on Rex’s neck before gently releasing, and they both pull away. Djarin passes a glance between Rex and the carefully crafted beskar. “The Armorer of my tribe forged the armor based on the few remaining holos of the war. And from what I could remember of your plastoid. May your beskar’gam vencuyanir gar.”
“Did Luke give you the holos?” Rex chuckles a bit, daring to put his whole hand on the cuirass.
Djarin nods. “Bo-Katan also had some that have been added to our archives. I’d be glad to make copies for you some day. I… I didn’t know many of the battalions, but I recognized some of your men from what Luke’s told me.” The Mand’alor inclines his head. “I hope I was correct in assuming no spaulders or buy’ce were necessary?”
Rex shakes his head, still entranced by the armor - his armor! - laying in the crate.
“Jate,” Djarin states, then pulls another box over, this one much smaller. He doesn’t open it. “I brought paint - I wanted to give the option, even if you don’t know what you want yet. I can get the color on the kama changed -”
Rex shakes his head but glances toward the box presumably filled with paint. “I think I’ll keep the blue, but I might change the design a bit.”
Silence for a moment, then:
“Would you like me to leave you, ner ori’vod ?”
“Nayc, Mand’alor.”
In the end, Rex goes with an even black and white base on his armor - with broad strokes of bright 501st blue highlighting the Armorer’s careful craftsmanship, and slighter hints of green in deference to his new duty and as tribute to his new General. Even his spaulders and helmet get a semi-new coat of paint.
Djarin gives him a private comm-link before Rex departs Yavin IV for the second time in as many months. A promise and debt weighs on the Mand’alor’s shoulders - one Rex is able to alleviate some when Djarin offers him a spot in the Royal Guard of Mandalore, a true honor for any Mando’ade , and one that Rex is all too happy to take up - provided the Mand’alor understands his commitment to his General’s family first - an arrangement Djarin is all too quick and happy to agree with.