Chapter Text
Chaos. There was so much chaos…
Wisps of red cloth flashed across his vision as one by one, his people were slaughtered—shot down by Seperatist droids ordered to eliminate the settlement. The dry soil of Aq Vetina floated in the air like a dense fog from the disturbance of trampling feet as villagers ran for their lives. Blaster shots rang out through the once peaceful streets, cutting off screams as the droids barreled through the town with ease.
Din could feel it all.
Each family that is torn apart. Each home that’s destroyed. Each life that is snuffed out… He could feel it. What he had come to know as the Force rang through his mind in alarm, sending sharp tendrils of pain wrapping endlessly around his very being. It felt like his own life was ending. He knew the Force was trying to warn him, but he just wanted it to stop. He didn’t want to feel their pain. Din didn’t want to feel their sorrow. He wanted the droids to leave his home so everything could go back to the way it was, but he wasn’t naive enough to believe that anyone would be spared—not even his loving parents as they raced through the war zone. His father’s labored breathing intermingled with the sound of blaster shots whizzing past his ears as they neared a storage container, stopping just in front of it.
“Alright, Din,” his mother began as she opened the hatch, allowing his father to carefully place him inside, “You need to stay here and be very quiet. Don’t come out until everything has settled, alright?”
He remained silent, staring up at his parent’s with innocent eyes. His mind was running too quickly to form a response, mouth opening and closing in silent question.
“I know you’re scared, son, but you have to be brave. Trust in the Force, Din. It won’t lead you astray,” Came his father’s strained voice, dry and course from all of the dust lingering in the air.
He should’ve told them that he loved them. He should’ve made them hide with him. He should’ve done something—anything! But it was too late… The hatch began to close in on him, sending the cramped space into a darkness that Din would struggle to escape, even in the distant future.
The Mandalorian jerks awake with a gasp, finding himself staring at the inside of his helmet. It must’ve slid off center during his eventful night’s sleep, so with a twist, he corrects it. Now faced with the dim confines of his sleeping quarters, he allows himself to breath a relieved sigh.
“That’s better,” he mutters to himself, alerting a certain green baby of his wakefulness.
A soft coo comes from the makeshift hammock above him and he’s greeted with the welcoming stare of little Grogu. The child’s ears shift curiously as he peers down from his vantage point, offering Din an open-mouthed smile as his tiny fingers clutch onto the edge of the cot.
“Good morning, little buddy,” he replies with a smile before reaching up to take hold of the tiny bundle, “Did you sleep well?”
He didn’t expect an intelligible response, but he likes to ask anyways. Ever since he became a foundling, Din has led a lonely life. He only just recently began to make connections, but life on the run has hindered those connections drastically. Grogu quickly became one of the only constants in his life and having him to talk to has greatly affected his mental health. The child’s presence has become therapeutic, like an emotional support gremlin that can occasionally lift a two-ton Mudhorn.
The baby simply chirps at being addressed, making grabby hands at the Mandalorian’s helmet.
“That’s good to hear; we’ve got a long day ahead of us.”
Din raises the metal door separating their sleeping quarters from the rest of the ship and kicks his legs over the makeshift bed, relishing in the cracks of his joints and the clank of his armor as he stretches. Not for the first time since he’s begun spending more time on the ship, he debates getting a bigger cot. It was already cramped before, but now that he’s found himself on the run with a fifty year old infant, he doesn’t have the luxury of staying in one place for too long even more so than before. Each time he’s offered a real bed is a blessing to his aching neck and back, but it can never last for long.
Briefly, Din spares a glance towards the empty racks where he would normally store carbonite-frozen fugitives. Maybe he’ll clear it out one day to make room for a larger cot and allow Grogu to take his old sleeping quarters. It could be like his own little room. They could decorate it and fill it with his favorite snacks… but then again, once they find a Jedi willing to take the child in, there won’t be a need for that anymore.
A pang of loneliness stabs through Din’s chest at the thought, so he tries to ignore it in favor of carrying Grogu up the ladder and into the cockpit. A lot has changed in here since the Mandalorian took on the job of caring for the little one. Magnets decorate the dash around Grogu’s seat, giving the child something more to look at other than the emptiness of space. What was once a shiny knob that screwed onto the lever closest to the child is now a dull red ball that’s considerably less enticing, but squishy and malleable in case the baby decides he wants to play with it anyways. It’s almost as if the more he accepts that he’s become a father figure to Grogu, the more it shows.
Din carefully sets the kid down in his usual seat, buckling him up before offering him the metal ball that he’s come to love so much. In response, the kid snatches it up with a happy chirp, holding it close to his chest so Din can’t change his mind and take it back. Frankly, the reaction is adorable and it has the cold blooded ex-bounty hunter sitting back in his seat with a content sigh.
“Alright, kid. Tython was a bust, so we’re going to pay Ahsoka another visit and see if she has any other leads,” Din explains, readying the ship for hyperdrive.
Grogu’s ear’s perk up at the mention of the Jedi’s name and briefly, Din can feel something. The space between himself and the child seems to almost thicken, forming an invisible tether connecting them together. The kid’s eyes lighten up joyfully in response, babbling with excitement while Din’s heart hammers anxiously against his chest. A long time ago, when his people were being mowed down by droids, he felt a similar tether connecting him to the entirety of his village. It was overwhelming and frightening, but this feels different. Every other time he’s been ‘connected’ to someone like this, all it brought was pain and sadness, but Grogu is… happy. It’s not something he has to guess; he knows the child is happy and that’s what scares him the most. Din shouldn’t be able to feel another beings emotions so intimately as if they were his own—that is something only jetii can do.
Abruptly, the tether snaps and the air in the cockpit begins to settle, allowing Din to finally relax. He takes in several deep breaths, forcing his heartbeat to return to a semi-normal pace while Grogu looks up at him in confusion. He had stopped his joyous babbling, now looking up at his father worriedly. It feels like the air is beginning to thicken again as if Grogu is attempting to reach out to restore the connection, but the ex-bounty hunter immediately shuts him out. Din is not a jetii. Din is a Mandalorian. The Jeti and his people have been enemies for millennia—if Din were to show any signs of their power, could he really call himself a Mandalorian? Right now, he’s not willing to take that risk.
Instead, Din readies himself for the jump and sends the Razer Crest rocketing through space towards the forest moon of Corvus.