Author's Note: Here's a oneshot-ish first chapter. Things are sort of busy right now so I can't commit to as frequent posts as my last fics, but I've got something in mind going forward… Enjoy and please review!
Grogu tapped his ball on the dome for the 858,364th time, or at least it had seemed so to Din. The Mandalorian checked his navicomputer: 3 1/2 hours of sublight flight remained until Mandalore. The time could be reduced to 2 1/2 hours if Grogu got his way again.
"Alright." Din sighed. He tiredly reached for the red button on the side panel of the N-1's cockpit. Din slammed against the back of his seat and Grogu squealed with glee as the N-1's sublight thrusters propelled the ship to near lightspeed.
As the N-1 slowed a parsec closer to its destination, proximity sensors alarmed. Three TIE fighters closed in from behind.
Green plasma bolts streamed from the Imperial fighters. Din dodged, pulled up, and came around for his own shot at his pursuers. The TIE squadron proved to be proficient pilots, however. All but one escaped Din's counterattack.
The dogfight raged on. The N-1 jolted, alarms screamed as the left engine took a hit. Din stole an uneasy glance at the murky planet below—he was going down.
As the N-1 spiraled down, trailing smoke, The TIE's sped off onto space, their work finished. Din struggled to maintain control of his crashing ship as it plummeted through the atmosphere of the unknown planet.
"Hang on kid, this is going to get bumpy!"
Flames licked the N-1's chromium finish as the ship gained speed in its uncontrolled descent. The control panel flickered as the ship's power failed. Darkness of night revealed the rocky ground that fast approached. Din once again cursed the compact design of his small ship—impact was milliseconds away and Grogu was sequestered in his own compartment instead of safe in Din's arms.
Din woke to a pounding headache. Nausea surged as he tried to sit up. Shards of chromium strewn about the strange planet's rocky plain glistened in the night starlight. Din took notice of a wet and warm feeling on his thigh. The ground was darker there. Blood.
Din winced as he looked over his shoulder to the remnants of his ship. Inside the splintered starfighter, broken controls sparked.
A sudden realization clenched Din's heart and churned his stomach—Grogu! Din peered into the darkness. A distance away, among the debris, a small heap of ragged sackcloth lay motionless on the ground.
"Kid!"
Din scrambled towards the child. Pain shot through his leg.
"Dank farrik!" Din muttered.
A renewed stream of blood poured from the wound.
Din knelt over Grogu, disregarding the blood that spurted from his own wound. He nudged Grogu's shoulder.
"Kid?"
Nothing. The kid lay still, his eyes closed.
"Grogu, wake up!" Desperation cracked Din's voice as his fear roared into reality— the kid was hurt bad.
Din gently picked up his unconscious foundling and cradled him against his cuirass. Grogu's warmth radiated through the flight suit material on Din's arm. The child's nostrils flared a little as he breathed. At least he was alive.
A stab of pain in Din's leg called attention back to the wound. Blood had soaked the fabric of his flight suit and saturated the sand where he knelt. He was seriously injured too and knew that any movement, even the movement that he had already made, would make his blood loss more life threatening.
The control panel of the N-1 still sparked. Given enough time and tinkering, the comms station might work enough to send a distress signal. Din could fix the comms station, send the signal, wait for help, and maybe lose a leg at worst. But what if Grogu couldn't wait? Din had never seen him this bad before- hurt and unconscious. In the distance, beyond a forest, lights glowed into the night. Civilization.
Din debated his decision. He gazed upon his foundling. He felt his own blood trickle down his leg. He glanced to the sparking comms station in his crashed starfighter. He looked to the settlement beyond the forest. Sending a distress signal would take too long, and Grogu would die, but walking through the woods to the settlement would bring about blood loss that would most likely be fatal. Should he send a signal and save himself at the expense of his foundling, or should he journey towards the lights, trusting that whatever was there had medical facilities advanced enough to help Grogu, all the while sacrificing his own life?
Din set his gaze on the lights that glowed in the distance. He hugged Grogu to his cuirass and huffed determination and resignation to his fate. The Mandalorian hefted himself up from the ground. He suppressed the groan of pain that threatened to escape as he shifted weight to his injured leg. More hot, wet blood soaked his flight suit. Din gripped Grogu close and journeyed toward the forest that concealed the lights that glowed into the sky.
A sluggish drowsiness, the overwhelming temptation to stop and rest wooed the Mandalorian as he trekked through the forest towards the lights. A glance at Grogu, still lying limp against his chest, goaded him to keep going.
The forest opened onto a narrow dirt road. Din relished the relief of a relatively even surface to walk on. The dirt road meandered up a hill to a stately stone building. Din's strength dwindled, but at the sight of his destination his resolve to save his son renewed.
Short, quick breaths echoed in Din's helmet as he willed himself up the hill. An uncomfortable pressure built beneath his breastplate and radiated into a sore fatigue in his upper arms. He no longer noticed the blood streaming down his leg because he no longer noticed his legs at all. A welcome, tingling dullness had replaced the pain. His lungs however, begged for more air than his helmet would allow. Still he hugged his hurt foundling and fought forward.
This is the way.
He swore the mantra in his mind.
A weathered Aurebesh sign illuminated by a single dim light stood along the path. "Bedlam Institution for the Criminally Demented." The sign announced the identity of the edifice on the hilltop. Sudden nausea welled up in Din's throat. He had heard about this place— mainly in horror stories exchanged by bounty hunters late at night. Regret flooded into the Mandalorian's mind. He gazed with trepidation at the building, an insane asylum dating back to the Old Republic, the origin of horrifying tales of mistreatment and the most disturbed minds, the rumored residence of the Galaxy's worst criminals, killers, and even Sith Lords. Din whirled back to the winding road that led to the forest from whence he came. It was too late now. He had lost too much blood and was fading fast. Should he journey back to the wreckage of the N-1, both he, and then Grogu, would die alone in the forest. Din turned to the asylum and swallowed hard. He didn't know if it was run by an Imperial remnant, or the New Republic, or the deranged denizens themselves, but it was a mere difficult, but manageable walk away. Din knew he would die, if not from his injuries, then from the bloodthirsty bounty hunters and beskar thieves that waited within the looming stone walls, but Bedlam Institution remained Grogu's only hope.
Din Djarin trod on. Dizziness made his head feel like it was floating, yet his beskar seemed to weigh multitudes more than usual. Nausea raged in Din's stomach. Bile bubbled in his throat. A shrub along the walkway leading to the asylum beckoned him to find relief. Din fell to his knees and hugged Grogu tight to his chest, hiding the foundling's still unconscious face. Din tore his helmet off and retched into the bushes. His head and his heart pounded. He hunched on his hands and knees as he struggled for breath.
With a shaking but determined hand, Din donned his helmet. He stood then wavered. His sight grayed and his leaden legs buckled, bringing him back to the ground. The impact of cold, wet dew on the grass lining the walkway revived him. He stood, slower this time, and started up the stairs to the asylum's grand doors.
Din knocked. He gazed at Grogu who breathed peacefully in his safe embrace. Still he knew the kid was not at all safe. Grogu was seriously injured, and Din's only option was to turn him over to the Galaxy's most notorious insane asylum.
As Din waited for the door to open, his own fading heartbeat echoed in his ears and the edges of his vision swam. A cool breeze swept the hill on which the asylum stood. The night was comfortable, but Din was cold. Despite his armor and flight suit, the chill of death settled into his bones. A lump of emotion joined the nausea in his throat. Tears wet the corners of his eyes. Din's spirit broke as he mourned that he would no longer be able to ensure that Grogu lived a safe and happy life.
Grogu remained unresponsive, showing not a sign of life save his even breaths since the crash. As the chill in Din's bones intensified and dark oblivion beckoned, Din had finally and fully accepted his own death, he only willed the asylum door to open, to give Grogu a chance, whatever that meant.
The creaking of aged hinges snapped Din from a hypovolemic daze. A young woman stood before him, one hand holding the heavy front door of the Bedlam Institution, the other akimbo, fingers curled into a concerned fist against the hip of an antique but crisp nurses' uniform. Through Din's fading vision and failing senses, he saw not a murderous craze in her eyes but a caring purity. The comfort the woman radiated stood in stark contrast to the arcane interior of the old hospital. Cracked and missing tiles pockmarked the walls. Dull gray lights illuminated years of grime and neglect. Antique equipment rested on rusted carts against a wall. The asylum gave off an eerie, uneasy feeling, but Din had no choice as his body gave one desperate final failing attempt to fight the blood loss that was claiming him. Din fumbled his unconscious foundling into the welcoming nurse's arms.
"S… save the kid."
Din's voice came out far weaker than he had planned. Once he saw that Grogu was firmly in the woman's grasp, he gave in to darkness's embrace. The numbness in his legs overtook his body. A last vision of the asylum's dirty hallway faded to black. The unmistakeable clang of beskar rang through the asylum as the Mandalorian hit the floor.