Work Text:
Din Djarin slumped against the farmhouse, helmet forgotten in the dirt, the warped light a poisonous shimmer. All living things around them had withered; shapes unfamiliar, their colours so wrong. Stalks of grass curled, leaking iridescently. Din felt it in his teeth; a humming painful presence trying to unmake everything he loved. He held Grogu close, feeling his small heartbeat flutter; growing fainter by the minute.
The alien colour was everywhere: a hunger; torturing them. The agony it brought seeped through Din’s armour and skin. He felt it inside his head, unraveling the edges of his thoughts, whispering that nothing ever truly belonged to him; not hope, not love, not Grogu.
Grogu’s ears drooped, luminous eyes wide, reflecting greedy colour that seeped into their world. Din pressed his forehead to Grogu’s, trying to block out the wrongness. “I’m here. I’ve got you,” he whispered.
Pain saturated the air, colours humming with a will that felt colder and older than any darkness Din had ever known.
Grogu whimpered. Din stroked Grogu’s cheek, forcing words past tightness in his throat hoping it reduced even a little suffering. “I’m here, ad’ika. Won’t let go.”
But the colour tightened, a piercing pressure squeezing their world smaller. It fed on Din’s fear, on Grogu’s pain. Din tried to stand, to fight, but his limbs felt heavy. Watching helplessly as Grogu’s eyes dulled, the child sagged in his arms, breath shallow, skin tinged with unnatural light. Din screamed for help, but every plea was swallowed.
He wouldn’t beg for death, couldn’t leave Grogu. But the colour was cruel; wanting him to feel tormented, to mourn. Grogu’s small hand slipped from Din’s grasp, falling limp. The moment stretched on forever, Din’s scream trapped inside his soul.
The presence pressed closer, suffocating. Din’s mind filled with visions. He saw himself left behind, staggering through a galaxy vast and empty. He would’ve chosen death a hundred times over surviving the void Grogu would leave behind.
The dread seeped into Din, gnawing at memory and hope as he felt the child’s last breath hitch, the small body unmoving.
He tried to speak, to reassure, but his voice caught on a sob. All he could do was hold Grogu tighter as the light intensified, cold and blinding, a crescendo of cosmic hunger. Din’s thoughts slipped, the distance between them stretching, stretching, about to snap—
And then, silence.
When the sick colours finally receded, the world was hushed. Din cradled Grogu’s body, numb with horror.
After the colour, only ruined land was left. Din’s heart pounded; he begged any power to take him instead, to erase him and spare Grogu. But the presence cared nothing for bargains or sacrifice.
Then, suddenly Grogu wiggled in his arms — alive, frightened, but breathing. Grogu whimpered softly, reaching up to touch Din’s cheek. Din’s tears fell hot as overwhelming relief crashed over him.
Din held him close, shaking. They both survived, but Din knew life without Grogu would be so hollow it was worse than death.