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The idea had sounded harmless in theory.
A family outing.
A break.
A chance for everyone—Din included—to breathe for once.
The traveling carnival on Nevarro had lit up half the district with floating banners, bright stalls, and looping music that carried across the fields like something out of a different life entirely. The kind of place where kids ran ahead laughing and adults pretended, for a few hours, that the galaxy wasn’t constantly trying to kill them.
Everyone came.
Cara.
Greef.
Peli, who immediately started complaining about the food prices while eating it anyway.
Paz and Ragnar, in town just long enough to see what all the noise was about.
Even a few of the covert families, scattered through the crowd.
And Grogu.
Nine years old now. Taller. Faster. Stronger in the Force, too, which somehow made Din more anxious, not less.
Grogu was ecstatic.
This was the first time in a long time all his favorite people were in one place, laughing, eating, moving together like some impossible version of peace.
Din, on the other hand, never stopped scanning.
Even as he walked beside them.
Even as Grogu ran ahead a few steps.
Even as Cara tried to tease him into relaxing.
“There’s nothing out here but cotton candy and bad decisions,” she said.
Din didn’t look away from the crowd.
“There are always bad decisions,” he replied.
Mayfeld, walking behind them with a drink he absolutely shouldn’t have had at a children’s carnival, snorted.
“Yeah, that’s called parenting. Congrats, Djarin.”
Din didn’t respond.
Grogu darted between stalls, drawn like always to anything shiny, floating, or vaguely dangerous-looking.
“Grogu,” Din called automatically.
“I’m fine, Dad!” came the distant reply.
That helped exactly none of Din’s stress levels.
They’d been there for hours.
Grogu had already tried three rides, won two questionable prizes, and nearly convinced Ragnar to “test” a gravity booth that Din immediately vetoed from across the field.
Din finally found himself momentarily… distracted.
A pair of women near a food stall had apparently decided that “mysterious armored man at children’s carnival” was an acceptable foundation for flirting.
It was not subtle.
It was not useful.
It was, unfortunately, persistent.
“No, I’m not—no, I don’t—no, I have a child—yes, I am aware I have a child—no, that does not make me available—”
He backed away slowly, trying not to be rude, trying not to escalate, trying very hard not to just turn and leave the planet.
“This is a children’s carnival,” he muttered under his breath as he ducked behind a stall to escape.
By the time he circled back out, he was already scanning for Grogu.
That was when Grogu ran straight into him.
Hard.
Full force.
A hug so familiar it almost knocked the air out of him.
“Oof—hey—kiddo.”
Din instinctively wrapped his arms around him, steadying him.
Grogu didn’t say anything.
That was the first thing Din noticed.
“Hey,” Din said softer now. “What’s up?”
Grogu looked up at him.
Opened his mouth.
Closed it again.
Din frowned.
“Buddy? You okay?”
A strange sound came from Grogu then.
Not words.
Not a giggle.
Something wrong.
A tight, strained wheeze.
Din’s gaze dropped.
To his hand.
A small bag.
Crinkled.
Half-open.
Peanuts.
Grogu never ate peanuts.
Ever.
Din had always told him not to.
Damn it, Kid.
“Grogu,” Din said immediately, voice changing.
“Did you—did you eat—”
Grogu’s face was flushing.
Fast.
His hands went to his throat.
His breathing stuttered.
The realization hit Din like a physical impact.
No.
“No—no, no, no.”
Fear sharpened instantly into action.
“Out of my way!”
The crowd didn’t move fast enough.
“OUT OF MY WAY!”
This time they did.
Din was already scooping Grogu up before the last word left his mouth.
Grogu clung to him immediately.
Not just scared.
Struggling.
Breathing wrong.
“Hey,” Din said, voice dropping low, urgent, right against his ear.
“I’ve got you. I’ve got you. Stay with me.”
Grogu tried to inhale.
It came out broken.
A wet, strained sound.
Din felt his entire body go cold.
“Medic booth,” he barked, already moving.
“Where is it—where is it—”
A finger pointed.
He was running before anyone finished the gesture.
“Grogu, look at me,” he said rapidly, pressing his forehead against his son’s.
“You’re okay. You’re okay. Breathe with me.”
In.
Out.
In.
Out.
Grogu couldn’t follow.
But he was trying.
That was enough for Din to keep going.
They burst into the medic booth.
“Emergency!” Din snapped. “Peanut exposure—he can’t breathe—”
The medic was already moving.
“Lay him down.”
“No,” Din said instantly.
Too sharp.
Too instinctive.
He tightened his hold.
“I’ve got him.”
A beat.
Then, forcing himself:
“…just help him.”
The next minutes blurred into motion.
Injection.
Instructions.
Radio calls.
Din didn’t look away from Grogu once.
“Stay with me,” he kept repeating.
“I’m here. I’m here.”
Grogu’s breathing slowly shifted.
Not fixed.
But improving.
Less panicked.
Less desperate.
Just… exhausted.
The medic exhaled.
“That’s stabilizing. We need hospital observation.”
Din nodded immediately.
“Where.”
No hesitation.
Grogu stayed pressed to his chest as they moved.
Still shaking.
Still alive.
Still his.
Cara caught up outside, breathless.
“What happened?”
Din didn’t slow.
“Peanuts.”
A pause.
His jaw tightened.
“…I didn’t see it.”
They loaded into transport.
Grogu never left his arms.
Even when they tried to take him.
Even when someone said it would be easier.
Even when protocols said otherwise.
Din’s voice was quiet, absolute.
“No.”
So Grogu stayed.
Against his chest.
Breathing.
Fighting.
Alive.
As the transport lifted off, Cara finally looked at Din properly.
“You didn’t fail him.”
Din didn’t answer right away.
He just stared down at Grogu.
Watching every shallow breath like it was the only thing keeping him anchored to reality.
“…I almost did,” he said finally.
Cara’s voice softened.
“But you didn’t.”
Din swallowed hard.
Grogu shifted slightly, still weak, still recovering.
Din held him closer.
And under his breath, so quiet it barely existed at all, he added:
“I’m never taking my eyes off him again.”
The hospital lights on Nevarro were too bright.
They always were.
Too white. Too clean. Too loud in a way that didn’t make sense until you were already exhausted and afraid and trying not to fall apart in a chair that didn’t belong to you.
Din sat in one of those chairs anyway.
Grogu was still in his arms.
They hadn’t managed to separate them.
Not yet.
Grogu’s breathing had stabilized in transport, but the fear hadn’t left his body. It showed in the way he clung to Din’s tunic even in half-consciousness, fingers twisted into the fabric like letting go would undo everything.
A nurse approached carefully.
“Sir, we need to monitor him in the pediatric bay—just for a few hours—”
“No.”
It was immediate.
Not loud.
Just final.
The nurse hesitated.
Din didn’t look up from Grogu.
“He stays with me.”
A pause.
Then softer, but no less firm:
“…please.”
That last word changed the tone in the room more than anything else.
The nurse nodded once.
“Alright. We’ll bring a monitor in.”
Cara stood nearby, arms crossed, watching Din like she was seeing something she didn’t have a name for yet.
Peli was muttering something about “kids these days eating anything that looks like it has a personality,” while Greef was arguing with a medic about paperwork.
But Din didn’t hear any of it.
All he heard was Grogu.
The tiny, uneven breaths still not fully steady.
Every so often, a faint whimper would slip out of him in his sleep.
Each one landed like a blow Din didn’t know how to defend against.
Grogu stirred slightly.
Din immediately adjusted his grip.
“Hey,” he whispered instantly, voice already softening into something instinctive.
“I’m here.”
Grogu didn’t wake.
But his fingers tightened again anyway.
Din exhaled shakily, pressing his forehead lightly to the top of Grogu’s head.
“I’ve got you,” he murmured.
“I’ve got you. You’re safe. You’re okay.”
Minutes passed like that.
Maybe more.
Time in hospitals never moved properly. It just… sat on top of you.
Eventually, Cara stepped closer.
“Din,” she said quietly.
He didn’t look up.
“Yeah.”
“You need to let them keep him overnight for observation.”
Silence.
Din’s arms tightened slightly around Grogu.
“I’m not leaving him.”
“I didn’t say you were.”
That made him finally look up.
Cara softened.
“You look like you’re about to collapse.”
“I’m fine.”
“You’re not.”
He almost laughed at that. Almost.
Instead, his gaze dropped back to Grogu.
“…he stopped breathing in my arms,” he said quietly.
The words landed heavy.
Cara didn’t interrupt.
Din swallowed.
“I felt it.”
A pause.
Then, even quieter:
“I can still feel it.”
Grogu made a small sound in his sleep again—soft, uneasy.
Din immediately responded.
“It’s okay,” he whispered again, like repetition could rebuild safety.
“It’s okay, kiddo. Daddy’s here.”
Cara watched him for a long moment.
Then she did something unusual for her.
She didn’t argue.
She just sat down beside him.
Not touching.
Just present.
After a while, Greef came over too, lowering his voice.
“They’re ready to discharge him in the morning if he stays stable.”
Din nodded once.
Didn’t look away from Grogu.
“Good.”
Another pause.
Then, quieter:
“…I don’t care how many people I have to talk to about it. No more of that at home.”
Cara raised an eyebrow.
“Peanuts?”
Din finally huffed something that almost resembled a humorless laugh.
“No more carnivals.”
That earned a faint snort from Peli across the room.
“Kid’s never gonna have any fun again, huh?”
Din didn’t respond immediately.
Then, very honestly:
“…he almost died.”
That shut the room up.
Even Peli.
Grogu shifted again, this time waking just slightly.
His eyes fluttered open.
Confused.
Groggy.
Scanning.
Until they found Din.
Immediately.
“Dad…?”
Din leaned forward instantly.
“Hey,” he said softly.
“Hey, I’m here.”
Grogu’s expression crumpled just a little, the memory of panic still there but fading.
“…hurt.”
“I know,” Din said immediately.
“I know, buddy. I’m sorry.”
Grogu reached weakly for him.
And this time, Din didn’t hesitate.
He adjusted, pulling him closer without dislodging monitors or tubes, just enough to press him back against his chest.
Grogu exhaled slowly.
Like his body had finally remembered what safety felt like.
“…stay,” he mumbled.
Din’s throat tightened.
“I’m not going anywhere,” he promised.
“I’m right here.”
Grogu’s grip loosened again.
Sleep pulling him back under.
Before he fully drifted off, he whispered:
“…no more peanuts.”
Despite everything, Din let out a shaky breath that turned into something close to a laugh.
“Yeah,” he murmured.
“Yeah. I think we can manage that rule.”
Grogu finally fell asleep again.
This time more peacefully.
Din stayed exactly where he was.
Still holding him.
Still watching.
Still breathing with him.
And for once, the silence in the hospital room didn’t feel like something waiting to break.