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Crackling - the saber hovered above the child’s head, and Din froze. A paternal instinct washed over him to tackle Gideon to the ground, and have his fists meet cheekbones in heavy bludgeons, but it would do more harm to Grogu than good.
Gideon was calm and collected, but the hand holding the weapon told Din all he needed. The moff was willing to harm the kid if he needed to. Steadily, Din held his blaster, trained on the man, and stepped into the room, ready for the fight to come. He wondered if the other group had reached the bridge yet, and if they had figured out that Gideon would be in the brig, waiting.
“Drop the blaster.”
Not needing to be asked twice, Din placed it on the floor and kicked it across the room, the metal scraping loudly in the small space. Grogu cooed quietly, his small hands in the tiny clasps breaking Din’s heart.
“Give me the kid,” the Mandalorian swallowed hard.
Ignoring the statement, Gideon waved the saber closer to the child’s head, who squinted his dark eyes in fear, whining under the threat. “I suspect Bo-Katan and her boarding party have arrived at the bridge, seeking me, or more accurately, this,” he raised his weapon.
“Where is this going?”
“This is where it’s going,” Gideon shifted his weight. “This sword, it brings power. And Bo-Katan wants it? Do you know why? Because, whoever wields it, has claim to the throne of Mandalore. She’ll be starting to panic now, seeing as I’m not on the bridge.”
“Keep it.” Din was growing impatient. “I just want the kid.”
Gideon hummed in response, looking between the two others in the room. The saber buzzed as it disappeared into the hilt, and the moff tucked it away. “Very well. I’ve gotten what I needed from him.”
Blood, Din’s thought finished, and he could see Grogu was clearly exhausted from wherever inhuman experiments they had been performing.
“He contains highly powerful properties, ones that could bring balance back to the galaxy.” The man blinked slowly, his cool exterior giving the bounty hunter an uneasy feeling. “I see the bond between you. Take him- and we will go our separate ways, beginning with you leaving my ship immediately.”
Despite his uneasy feeling, Din stepped forward, desperate to have the kid back in his hands, safe and sound. Grogu’s eyes brightened a little as he saw his father’s approach, already trying to reach up, regardless of his Force constraining binds.
As Din leaned over, it happened very fast - the sound of the saber igniting and the feeling of its power hitting the beskar of his back - and within an instant, he turned to protect himself with his vambraces.
Stepping back with each attack, Din kept his arms up, sparks flying as the saber and beskar met, over and over, with Gideon’s ruthless strafes coming down hard with loud noises. Din stumbled as they exited the brig, into the shining hallway, the light of the clashes lighting up the space with each strike. Grunting loudly, Gideon tried once more to bring the saber down, and the Mandalorian slid under the raised arms, quickly standing on the other side, and bringing his beskar spear from its place on his back.
The unfamiliar weapon felt heavy in his hand - and he wished he had had time to grab his blaster from the brig. Gideon panted, the sword crackling with mystic energy. He laughed between his breaths, a mocking sound.
“You’re probably thinking something along the lines of - how am I ever to beat him with a spear? A layman’s weapon, compared to the power I hold now? I also know you’ve used your one and only salve. Oh yes, assume I know everything, Din Djarin.”
With that, the bounty hunter lunged forward confidently, spear in both of his hands, stepping fast. Gideon swung the saber so the weapons collided in an x formation, both men pushing their weight against each other.
“I’ll bet you liked fighting my dark trooper, didn’t you?” Gideon hissed, the red from the spear’s glowing hot beskar reflecting wildly in his eyes. “Did it remind you of anything?”
The weapons separated, and the moff parried and Din deflected, one, two, three, with the Mandalorian backing away with each strike. He refused to humour Gideon with a response to his monologuing, opting to place all his focus on keeping the saber away from his exposed parts.
“Remind you of the day those droids invaded Aq Vetina?’ Gideon tsked as he swung the saber, hitting Din’s vambrace and getting deflected with the beskar. “How did your parents die, Din? Was it a droid, tearing into them with ruthless demeanor? A stray blaster fire? Did they die protecting you?”
Din snarled as he raised the spear, bringing it down roughly, and it hit the sword with a loud crackle, glowing furiously with the contact, and together the two men forced each other to hit the corridor wall. The saber melted through into the interior, with Gideon’s forceful strength pushing Din backwards again, creating a long, jagged and steaming cut through the panel.
“Can you even remember their faces?” The moff panted, a cocky grin on his face as he impeded. “They would be the only ones who remembered yours - how will it feel to die on this floor, forgotten by everyone who ever knew you? Just another masked fool - trying to gain something so desperately that he was stupid enough to board an Imperial cruiser and fight me?”
“Shut up,” the bounty hunter snapped, and he kicked the spear, propelling it around his back and over his head, the control still from his hand, and brought it down. Gideon stumbled back to avoid the hit, and Din launched his grapple, which was cut away easily after it wrapped around the moff.
He laughed. “Pathetic, just like the rest of your kind. If only you understood true power. I’ll show it to you.”
Charging forward, Gideon brought the saber down over and over, Din moving quickly with the beskar to protect his legs, his chest, his middle - the reverberations from the clashing sending shocks through the spear into his wrists. He grunted as he twisted his arms to manipulate his weapon, the moff’s ferocious features fueling Din’s rage as he moved to preserve himself.
The Mandalorian got a good hit onto Gideon’s chest, sending the moff tumbling back, nearly tripping over his feet. Suddenly, a loud coo echoed in the hall, and Din turned to see Grogu standing in the doorway of the brig, somehow having climbed down and walked out, in spite of his bound hands.
Concerned for the safety of the child being too near the fight, Din gasped lightly, moving to get the child out of the way.
“Hey! Kid, you need to go-”
A horrible pain pulsated through the bounty hunter’s body as he felt Gideon’s hand on his left pauldron. Looking down with a stifled groan, Din saw Gideon’s other hand wrapped around the darksaber, which was buried to the hilt in the Mandalorian’s stomach. His visor met the moff’s eyeline, faint with pain, and the moff twisted his wrist, sending shockwaves through Din, who crumbled forward as the sword was pulled out of his body.
Din was on the ground, on his knees, his arm desperately pressing against his wound, the other hand falling to the floor with the heavy clank of the beskar spear rolling away.
Moff Gideon stood in front of him, the saber lazily hanging at his side. He walked around the bounty hunter as he turned off the sword, and picked up the spear from the ground. Balancing it in his hand, Gideon puckered his lip and nodded.
“Most impressive weapon. How disappointing it should land in the hands of someone who couldn’t even use it well enough to defend himself.”
He then swung it at Din’s head, and the ringing of the beskars hitting each other rang in his ears heavily, sweat dripping down his face under the mask. His whole body was on fire - his eyesight was fuzzy and his hands shook with the dizziness of his mind. The wound in his stomach and out his back felt horribly numb and excruciating at the same time.
Din grunted as he was hit, using his elbow to stop himself from hitting the ground completely. A loud whine was heard, despite the echoing in his mind, and Mando turned his helmet to see Grogu staring at him with wide eyes, frightened and still.
“Like I said, pathetic.” Gideon ran his hand up and down the spear again. “You’ll be dead in minutes. This is the end of your clan, Din. How do you feel?”
“Kriff off,” Din managed faintly, and the response was a hard swing of the spear once more, though this time, the impact of the two metals sent Din’s helmet sailing down the hall, clanking with each roll, until it finally sat quietly, revealing the Mandalorian’s bloodied and pale face underneath. He could feel the blood running from his nose and what was coming up his throat and bubbling from his mouth. Internal bleeding certainly couldn’t be good - and his eyes met those of his attacker - painfully aware of his vulnerability.
Gideon stared for a minute, before a light chuckle left his mouth. “Huh. Look at you. As normal as any other man, woman, or child that died at our hand. You won’t be making much of a difference, bleeding out on my floor.”
Grogu whined again, and Din couldn’t bring himself to look at the child. He didn’t want him to see him like this - didn’t want his last memory of Din to be of him defeated on the ground. The kid tried stepping forward, and the moff harshly pushed him away with his boot, causing the child to slide a little with the assault, earning a cry from the kid.
“Hey!” Din managed, trying to get up to defend him, but Gideon was fast, and swept his boot back up, colliding with Din’s nose.
Crying out, the Mandalorian fell backwards, blood running to the back of his throat bitterly, before the moff’s hand was wrapping around Mando’s cowl, pulling him back up on his knees. He struck him hard across the cheek, and all Din could hear was Grogu beginning to cry, privy to watching his father be beaten by his kidnapper. Gideon struck again and again, and Din wanted to hold the kid, tell him it was all going to be okay, as if lying for just a minute could fix everything, but he knew it wouldn’t.
Grogu’s cries were the loudest noise he had ever heard from the kid, nothing usually above a loud whine coming from him, and as Gideon paused his assault for a minute, Din’s head lolling back like a limp doll, only held by the moff’s iron grip around his neck’s clothing, he glanced to the side of his eyesight, and saw Grogu covering his little cheeks, tear and snot and sadness plastered on his face, his small body shaking as he cowered near the wall.
“It’s okay,” Din whispered, blood filled drool leaking from the corner of his lips. “It’ll be okay.”
“Is that what your parents told you before they died in front of your eyes?” The moff kicked the Mandalorian’s chest and he fell flat on his back, exhausted and too weak to fight. The searing pain in his abdomen had grown to a head, and he inhaled sharply as he felt the gentle tip of the spear ghosting over his throat.
“Wait -” Din swallowed hard, gasping for air. “Not...not in front of..him. Please.”
Gideon pushed the spear a little harder. “The same eyes of a scared little boy on Aq Vetina. How will the little one cope with your death, I wonder?”
Din squeezed his eyes shut, prepared for his demise. A strange hum filled the room then, buzzing around the bounty hunter’s mind like a familiar warmth, strong and comforting. He realized then what it was, and opened his eyes, glancing to where Grogu had been.
The child was closing his eyes, his still bound hands held out in front of him expectantly, and the thrum grew loud until the binds dropped suddenly, and Gideon whipped around, a shocked expression on his face. With every bit of strength Mando could muster, he launched himself at the moff, tackling him under the waist, and they stumbled to the floor together. Din straddled the Imperial, quickly grabbing hold of his head in a quick tussle. Gideon wriggled and groaned, his eyes growing with desperation, and Din picked his head up and hit it against the floor, once, then twice, hard enough to knock the moff out.
With a great sigh, the Mandalorian rolled off of Gideon, and tugged himself against the wall, before leaning his back to it, his legs stretched out in front of him. His hand hovered over his stomach wound again, and Grogu slowly walked across the corridor, waddling up to his father’s side.
His loud sniffles made Din’s own eyes fill with quick tears, but he didn’t let them fall. “Hey, hey,” he whispered, trying to be strong for the kid. “It’s over, it’s okay.”
The child cooed, looking up at him with big dark orbs. Din felt weak and faint, but tried not to let his increasingly heavy lids fall shut. He had to at least wait until the rest of the group found him - so Grogu wouldn’t be alone with his dead body.
“I’m sorry,” Din continued. He met the kid’s eyes and found it harder to keep looking. “I’m sorry I couldn’t be here for you longer..but you..you’re so good. Strong. You really helped me. I don’t just mean today.” He carefully reached and tugged off his glove, before reaching for the kid’s little green hand. He held his delicate fingers in between his own, feeling the welling in his eyes again. “I mean all these cycles. You..changed me.” He swallowed back the lump in his throat, his mouth feeling very dry. “I love you, kid.” He admitted earnestly. “Grogu. Don’t be afraid, okay?”
The child looked down at their hands, silent and listening. He then dropped Din’s fingers and walked close to him, ever careful. He reached out then, placing an open palm across the singed fabric of Din’s middle. He closed his eyes with great focus, and it took every ounce of the bounty hunter not to do the same.
The burning in the Mandalorian’s abdomen increased for a moment before it subsided, slowly going from agony to just discomfort, and Din watched in awe, under the kid’s fingers, the blackened flesh of his stomach gradually returning to its natural colour, and the wound began to heal over, like a time lapse, skin growing from nowhere to cover the charred wound. The feeling of soothing reached all through his insides and to his back, where the darksaber had protruded through.
Gasping, the bounty hunter sat up a little straighter, and Grogu’s shook a little with the effort of using the last bit of his energy to transfer healing to Din, until the skin under his hand looked like it had never seen the blade at all, with the only evidence still being where the clothes around had been burned and ripped.
“Kid,” the Mandalorian gasped as the child keeled over, panting, and his eyes closed as he fell out of consciousness. He picked him up and gently tucked him into the crook of his arm, before stumbling to his feet on unsure legs. “It’s okay.” He whispered, looking down at the sleeping child. “We’re safe now.”
In the Slave I, leaning against the wall, Din slept uncomfortably, as the hair in his helmet stuck to his head, and dried blood crusted in his facial hair, but he was grateful for the sleep that came, feeling safe in the ship of an ally. Grogu rested in his arms, a small line of drool escaping his lips, exhausted but security and comfort with his father.
Boba flew the ship smoothly, and the rest of the passengers left the clan of two to nap. A disagreement in the bridge on Gideon’s ship had happened over the legend of the darksaber, leaving the Mandalorian even more drained, and Kryze less than happy about the outcome of the rescue mission, but Cara had her moff and Boba and Fennec had fulfilled their debt to Din, and the child was where he belonged. If any Jedi had heard Grogu’s calling, they would find them eventually, but the Mandalorian would cross that bridge when he came to it, and for now, he cherished his life a little bit more and the love he found from his family.