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“Soon he will be back with me. He means more to me than you will ever know.”
Din jabbed his finger down on the end transmission button so hard that it twists at an odd angle. He pulled back with a vicious curse, bringing his other fist down redundantly against the button again.
His air of fury had appropriately driven his companions away as he stood in the engine room alone to administer the threat. Perhaps he should have said more or at least gone into detail about the excruciating death that awaited Gideon if he hurt the Child. Maybe he should have listed demands or set rules, but in the end, Din’s anger was simply too monstrous for words.
No matter. He was never one for idle threats anyway. Action spoke well enough for itself.
Gripping the edge of the table, Din bent down and tried to get control of his breathing. How could he be so stupid? How could he have left the Child so vulnerable? Why could he never properly protect the one person he truly--
Don’t go there. It won’t help. What’s done is done and there’s no changing that. What matters now is getting the Child back.
Grogu, he reminded himself. The Child’s name was Grogu. How odd it was to think of the baby as anything other than mine, other than Adi’ka .
Did he even have the right to call his charge by name? Before a few months ago, Din had never seen himself as a potential father, never considered himself worthy of such a title.
A Foundling is in your care. By Creed, until it is of age or reunited with its own kind, you are as its father.
The Armorer's words spun in his mind, eating away at the guilt already grown so large in his chest. It felt as though he had swallowed a rock and was now desperately trying to breathe around it.
Din glared down at his reflection shining back at him from the control panel. The sight on the helmet upon his head was so familiar that it may as well be an extension of his body. No one outside of his family had seen his face for decades. Din had protected his oath with a savagery that sometimes scared even himself.
Temptations had come and gone, blown-in as a raging storm and leaving as ashes in the breeze. Brothers-in-arms, beautiful women, even people offering to pay handsomely to find out what the Mandalorian devil looked like beneath the mask. All offers and requests were rejected without real consideration.
This was the Way.
But now? Din removed the helmet of his own accord, making a decision he once would have found inconceivable. It was true that most who had seen his face were now thoroughly dead, but Mayfeld still walked free with the full knowledge of his broken sanctity.
It didn’t matter anyway. Din had been faced with a choice, and he willingly broke the promise he faithfully kept for so long.
He should be ashamed. He should be disgusted to have turned his back on the Way, disregarding the teachings of his parents. He should be on his knees begging forgiveness and swearing loyalty.
Din Djarin didn’t care.
That was most horrifying. That simple truth caused his head to spin around and around on a seemingly endless spiral of shock.
Din had found something else, someone else, whose importance was put above any other's. The Mandalorian wasn’t sure exactly when he decided he was willing to die for his foundling, but now feared he would also die without him. The absent weight around his hip felt like a cavernous hole carved into his skin.
He would do it again. He would rip his helmet off and throw it away, snarling at all those in his path. He would shed his oath like a snake sheds its skin, ripping off the old to make way for a new way of life. A way shrouded in shadows and light alike. A life revolving around deep dark eyes and curious green ears.
Perhaps others would resent Grogu for all the danger and woes he brought into their life. Maybe others would welcome the chance to be free of such a momentous burden.
Din wanted to tear out his own eyes in penance.
They had taken the Child. Grogu was gone thanks to his own incompetence.
But not all was lost, Din had what he needed now. The coordinates were a gift only his own face could bestow, and Din found he held no regrets.
One day, if he lived to see it, there could come a time when Din would look back upon this moment and wonder how he came to love a foundling so deeply that he was willing to throw away his own identity. Perhaps he would call his younger self a fool.
For now, however, the path ahead was clear.
Din tensed as the door behind him slid open with a hiss. A shadow fell across the floor and Din relaxed, still bent over the table. He despised showing weakness, but this particular companion had already seen him at his heroic best and excruciating worst. She’d witnessed what the Child meant to him and how far Din would go to protect him. She may chastise him for throwing himself headfirst into danger with no regard for the consequences, but she’d also be right by his side to push ahead.
“How’d it go?”
Din lifted one shoulder and let it fall again. With this task complete, the Mandalorian felt suddenly exhausted, as if simply staying on his feet was too difficult a task. “It’s done. He’s had his warning. Everything else is yet to come.”
He shifted around using one arm to lower himself to the floor with a groan, leaning back and tilting his head up to stare at the cracked ceiling.
Cara dropped down next to him, quiet in a companionable way Din always felt unable to truly understand, let alone replicate.
They sat in silence for several long minutes, both muted by their shared grief.
“I know you aren’t going to believe me, but it wasn’t your fault,” Cara said finally. “I’ve seen you and the kid in some seriously insane situations. With that kind of power, he’s just too big of a target, and you are just one man.”
“He’s my responsibility,” Din shot back, sudden and hot anger rolling up his back. “I swore an oath! Everything else aside, Grogu is a foundling, my foundling, and I was meant to protect him.”
He turned away, suddenly unable to look at her. “I failed.”
Cara laid a firm hand on Din’s shoulder, seemingly having no qualms with facing the righteousness of his misplaced rage. “But Grogu isn’t like other foundlings, Din. With him, you can’t put everything else aside. Other foundlings may come from violence or danger, but they are just kids. They aren’t being hunted like a rabid animal.”
She pursed her lips, as if unsure if she should continue, but never let it be said that Cara Dune backed down in the face of confrontation. “I don’t think it was ever going to work as a one-man job. You only just found out what a Jedi is, let alone how to care for one.”
“So what?” Din cried, leaping up to his feet and beginning to pace the room. “I should have given him away? Never taken him in the first place?”
“I didn’t say that,” Cara replied calmly, staying perfectly still on the ground. Her dark eyes tracked the Mandalorian’s movements as he shoved a chair out of his frantic path. “That kid needed you the day you met and every day since. Not many would accept such a perilous journey for a child of no relation.”
Cara looked down at her hands, a sudden moment of uncharacteristic shyness. “I actually think taking him in was quite noble. I never knew Mandalorians to be noble, but there you have it. I would never say that I understand your Way, but I admire you for following it.”
Din turned away, staring motionlessly at the far wall. When he spoke again, his voice cracked. “I feel I am losing the Way. By following my mission, I break more and more of the code.”
Pushing herself to her feet, Cara cautiously stepped behind the Mandalorian and laid a hand on his back. The cloak felt smooth and oddly warm beneath her fingers. “What do you mean?”
He simply responded with a shake of his head, and Cara got the message. She was not Mandalorian and as such, this was one part of her friend she would never be able to truly comprehend. So twisted were the Mandalorians with their codes that their lives left room for little else.
But love doesn't much care about rules or logic. Love got in the way, twisted up the mind and heart so thoroughly that actual choice slipped away. People loved, and therefore acted accordingly. Everything else be damned and forgotten.
“Your code is to protect your foundling,” she said softly. “You will do your duty. Of this, I have no doubt.”
With one final pat to his back, Cara turned and left the Mandalorian to his savage thoughts.
Damn the code. Damn the rules. They have my kid and I’m going to do whatever it takes to get him back. If I can’t save one foundling then how can I even begin to call myself a Mandalorian?
And if saving his Child meant turning his back on the life he'd sworn to all those years ago?
I’m coming, Grogu. Wait for me.