Work Text:
One
Din can't swim, but he doesn't hesitate to jump into the mamacore pool when the child's pram disappears beneath the surface.
As he sinks to the black depths, he spots the creature curled around the pram, its thick tentacles probing for a way to pry it open. Din clumsily reaches for his vambrace, fingers slipping over the controls as he prays the flamethrower will still work underwater.
There is an orange spark, then another, and finally the water around him begins to boil as the flamethrower sputters to life. The mamacore recoils as the heat reaches it, its hold loosening as it retreats into its nest deeper within the pool. The pram drifts free, rising slowly towards the light above.
His lungs burning, Din activates the rising phoenix. It fires just long enough to send him barreling upwards before sputtering out. He breaks the surface, but his helmet smashes against the metal grate covering the pool. The impact stuns him, just for a second, and too slow to reach for the bars, he begins to sink again.
He kicks frantically, panic setting in as his body screams for air, but the weight of the beskar is too much, and it pulls him deeper and deeper into the pool. His fingers claw at the latches of his cuirass, survival overriding faith as he struggles to remove his armor.
His vision narrows and dims as the beskar that had always protected him drags him into his grave.
Two
He’s already running when he hears the unmistakable roar of an Imperial cruiser breaking into the atmosphere, but then turns back and grabs the rising phoenix from where it lies discarded on the ground. As the Dark Troopers swarm out of the cruiser, he activates the jetpack, but even at full thrust, he's too slow to intercept them before they reach Grogu.
The droids shoot back into the sky, and he follows them without a second thought.
He's thrown to the side when a blaster bolt hits his side, then another, but he keeps going, keeps ascending higher and higher, following the troopers at full thrust. There is no other option. He has to stop them before they reach the cruiser
He hits another booster and surges upwards, so close to the troopers now that he can almost touch them.
An indicator flashes on his HUD, a warning for a damaged fuel line, but he keeps going.
His whistling birds are spent, the whipcord useless in the lashing wind, but if he can get just a little further, be just a little faster, he's certain he can grapple the trooper holding Grogu.
The Phoenix stutters and goes silent.
For just one heartbeat, Din locks eyes with Grogu, and then he's
falling,
falling,
falling.
Three
He can't feel his body.
He can sense the Dark Trooper looming above him, its heavy footsteps echoing in the corridor as it circles him, but his body fails to obey him when he tries to crawl away from its grasp.
His blaster is on the floor in front of him, just a hand's width from his fingers, but it might as well be in another galaxy. He wills his hand to move, straining every muscle, every nerve, but his fingers remain still, frozen in place.
There's a ringing in his ears, rising and falling like an emergency klaxon, and it's like he's a child again, hiding in the cellar on Aq Vetina. He closes his eyes, the only thing he can still do to protect himself, and waits for the droid to strike.
Four
Hands shove him to his knees, the muzzle of a blaster pressing into the back of his neck, in the vulnerable gap between the helmet and backplate. Gideon waits until Din has been stripped of his weapons, hiding behind the circle of troopers like the coward that he is. Din would have expected no more from a man who would hurt a child.
"That was a brave attempt, Din Djarin. Brave, but ultimately futile. You must have known that your plan to rescue the child was doomed to fail."
He picks up the beskar spear and studies it for a moment before casting it to the ground.
"I could have just let them shoot you when you were caught. You are a dying man from a dying people, and the quicker we rid the galaxy of your kind, the better.
He circles behind Din, and the press of the muzzle on his neck disappears.
"But I have come to respect you as an opponent, DIn Djarin, and I think you deserve something different.
There's an odd hum, like a charging plasma rifle, a flicker of strange, pale light, and then nothing.
Five
He raises the beskar spear in front of him, just in time to block the downstroke of the lightsaber, his mind focused on a single thought:
Run
He's never been able to connect with Grogu the way that Luke and Ashoka had, but he nevertheless hopes -- prays -- that maybe Grogu can somehow sense his thoughts.
Run
The beskar glows blinding white against the blue blade of the saber, and Din can feel the heat of the metal even through his helmet.
Run
His boots slip, and his opponent takes advantage of it to push him further down with strength far beyond what Din had expected from a scrawny teenager.
Run
He wishes that he could turn his head to see if Grogu has reached safety, but his muscles are burning, and he doesn't want to move even an inch for fear of losing his grip on the spear.
Run. Run. Run.
The beskar bends and snaps.
Ru-
.+1
"Grogu?" Din barely gets the word out before it breaks into a cough as he struggles to catch his breath.
"Here, father."
A hand raises the helmet just enough to press a cup to his lips. He sips the cool water, and when he's finished, he reaches forward blindly, fingers searching until they find the small, clawed hand that wraps around his own.
"You... need to... be brave," he whispers, his voice barely audible. "I can’t… I can’t…”
"It's all right, Father. I can look after myself now. You can let go."
Grogu shuffles closer, and Din feels the familiar weight of his son’s head resting gently on his chest.
"You’ll be alright," he says, his hand brushing Grogu’s head. "You’ll be alright."
"I’ll be alright," Grogu echoes, his claws squeezing tighter around Din's fingers.
Din releases Grogu's hand, reaching for his helmet.
"Take... it off," he rasps, every word a struggle. "I want... "
His voice again dissolves into coughs, but Grogu understands, as he always does.
The hands return to the lip of the helmet, and Din feels the cool air on his face as Grogu carefully removes the helmet, setting it aside. There is no guilt in revealing his face anymore. No shame.
He pulls Grogu closer. "I will... see you... again. I promise."
He's been an apostate far longer than he ever followed the Creed, but he believes with all his heart that no gods could be cruel enough to keep them apart in the afterlife.
"I know," Grogu replies, pressing his forehead tenderly to Din’s. “Don’t be afraid.”
A sense of calmness falls upon Din, and as he allows himself to slip away, the last thing he feels is his son's hand gently stroking his face