Hi folks!

I don't have a lot to say about this chapter, except that it's a rough one so be warned. I'm really putting Din through a lot, but I promise I will make it all better later!

Enjoy!
Moki

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Din Djarin was being taken apart piece by piece.

After Din's refusal to yield in the face of Gideon's request, the Moff's treatment of the Mandalorian had only gotten worse. Every day brought a new set of horrors.

Din was constantly in and out of consciousness from the brutal treatment. Gideon kept up a relentless attack, and Din's continued refusal to speak was causing the Moff to get angrier and angrier. Gideon had stopped watching from the cameras. He was now in the room every time Din was dragged in for whatever new torture they were going to do.

Din was pulled out of his cell and somehow, he felt that this particular visit to the debriefing room would be different. He could feel it in his bones, his broken and barely healing bones.

As he was pulled into the room, Din could see that the Moff was angry, more so than Din had ever seen him before. Yet, Din also noticed that the man looked almost happy. It was that emotion that chilled Din to his core. It was as if the Moff had made a decision about something.

That was when Din wondered if this would be the day that Gideon would finally kill him.

"You know," the Moff stated as soon as Din was strapped down to the table. "I don't know why I didn't think of this before. I realize that there was a key factor missing in all of this."

Din closed his eyes, letting Gideon talk himself out. Nothing the Moff said interested him all that much. If Gideon was going to kill him, Din wished the man would just get it over with and be done with all of it.

"I've been letting everyone else have all the fun in here. But that's just too impersonal, I think it's my turn now."

Something about Gideon's voice made Din raise his heavy eyelids. What he saw made him wish he'd never opened them. Gideon was standing above the table with a heated metal rod, its pointed tip glowing red. Din could feel the heat coming off of it, even from where he lay.

For the barest of moments, Din almost swore that the Moff's eyes glowed the same color. Or maybe it was his mind playing tricks on him again. Din felt dizzy as warring ideas went round and round in his head. Was all of this a dream? When was the last time he'd been awake? Maybe he never got captured? Was he dead? Was this his own personal hell for all the things he'd done during his hunting career?

Gideon spoke again, interrupting Din's line of thought and he was nearly grateful to the Moff. It helped him come back to reality, for he had decided that this must be real. He couldn't believe that his own mind would create this level of evil, no matter how sleep-deprived or how much agony had been endured.

The Moff pointed towards Din's leg, specifically at the armor on his upper leg. "Let's start from there and work our way up, shall we?"

Din kept his head facing forward. He had known this day was going to come at some point. Gideon was going after his armor and there was nothing he could do about it. He felt one of the troopers remove the cuisse from his thigh, but he didn't react. There was no point, being that he couldn't move anyway.

"I can't believe I didn't think to try this myself. This is so much better than watching," Gideon was practically giddy as he approached Din with the red-hot poker. Without another word he placed the metal on top of Din's thigh. It immediately burned through the leather pants he wore under his armor, going straight to his skin.

Din didn't bother to hold back his scream. Again, what was the point?

Hours later, Din was physically drained. Gideon had been taking his time, having his troopers remove bits of Din's armor, piece by agonizing piece.

Throughout the ordeal, Din passed out a few times from exhaustion and agony. But Gideon never let that last for long. He wasn't about to let his prisoner escape, even through unconsciousness. Any time Din's head rolled to the side and his body went lax, Gideon was there to pull him back to wakefulness.

"Ah, ah, ah, you've got to stay awake." Din came back to the present to feel the Moff tapping him on his shoulder.

Gideon had brought back the medical droid, which had obviously employed some sort of smelling salts under the edge of Din's helmet to wake him up. Gideon had also ordered the thing to spritz a little bit of bacta in some of the older wounds. None of this was done for Din's benefit. The Moff just wanted him to stay awake. The slight healing of the old wounds did nothing to stop the pain of the new ones.

Throughout the unbearably slow process, Gideon asked Din over and over again to yield. But the Mandalorian kept up his silent treatment. As much pain as he was in, Din was still glad to have that last bit of control.

But with each passing minute and hour, Gideon was getting angrier. He was losing the edge that he had over Din. The Moff was losing control in the situation and both of them knew it.

As it wore on, Din thought again that Gideon was going to kill him, and he couldn't help that tiny part of him that was glad. It would finally be an end to his suffering. Din's only regret was that he wouldn't get to say goodbye to Grogu. He hoped that Bo would take care of the kid and keep him with the foundlings, or maybe arrange for him to go back with the Jedi if that's what Grogu wanted. Din didn't mind dying, even at the hands of the Moff, as long as the kid was safe.

When they got up to the point where Din's cuirass was removed, Gideon had the troopers turn him over and re-strap him down to apply the rod to areas on his back that had previously been covered in armor. Gideon was being extremely thorough, Din noted ruefully.

But the Moff hadn't been satisfied with only removing Din's beskar. Once they were done with his back and Din was turned over again, Gideon had also taken off the hip guards. He had then removed the other heavy padding from Din's chest and stomach, which had been under the cuirass.

Despite his exhaustion and pain, Din couldn't help but note with interest that Gideon had left his leathers in place. Apparently, the other man had no desire to strip the Mandalorian down to nothing. Din had a feeling this was just about his armor itself, or anything that was acting as extra protection. For whatever reason the Moff didn't consider his leathers, which were basically his clothes, to be a part of that.

The Moff was targeting Din's armor for his attacks, almost as if it were a personal affront. Just those pieces that were specifically designed to help protect the Mandalorian in battle. One could argue the leathers underneath also served that purpose, but Gideon's entire focus seemed to be on the armor and padding itself. He was pouring all of his hatred towards injuring Din under those pieces. Interestingly, those were also the places where none of the Moff's previous tortures had touched.

More time went on, with Din passing out and waking up to Gideon or the droid pulling him back to consciousness. The Moff had just finished the area under Din's vambraces and was moving to his gauntlets and gloves.

As he started tugging at Din's left gauntlet, Gideon paused to admire the piece that covered the back of the Mandalorian's hand.

"I never noticed this symbol before," Gideon said, holding up Din's hand.

The straps holding Din down were continuously adjusted as the Moff worked, always freeing up the areas he needed to access, the troopers re-strapping the Mandalorian down as they went. Not that Din had any energy at the moment to attempt to run. But once again, the Moff wasn't taking any chances.

Gideon looked closely at the gauntlet, studying the light blue triangle that ran across the back of Din's hand.

"Does it have any significance I wonder? Hmm." Not waiting for an answer, he unclipped it, leaving Din's double-layered glove.

For half a second, Din had the very strong desire to punch the Moff. Hard.

Even in his current condition, Din was sure he could break something in the man's face. But he didn't. It probably wouldn't be worth it. He wasn't sure how much worse things could get but he was sure that Gideon could find a way to make that happen.

"I've always wondered about these as well," Gideon continued studying the glove, unaware of how near he had come to meeting that glove, up close and personal. "The tan leather gloves are very distinctive under the fingerless black layer. I'm assuming two layers is more protection. Very smart. But why the tan? Why not simply another pair of fitted black gloves underneath? Hmm?"

Din of course didn't say a thing. He wasn't going to tell the Moff the reasons he'd modified his armor and leathers. Let the man guess all he wanted.

"Oh well, I guess that will forever remain a mystery," Gideon said in a relatively calm tone. But Din could feel the Moff's ire continuing to grow by the minute. It was obvious Gideon had thought this final, brutally long torture would send Din over the edge and force him to yield.

He was wrong.

Gideon pulled off both layers of gloves, leaving Din's hand bare. It was the first time he had removed the leather underneath an armor piece and Din felt more exposed than ever. Having his bare skin uncovered, even just his hand, was extremely uncomfortable for the Mandalorian.

Din's hand twitched unconsciously. He hadn't tried to pull away, but some baser instinct had gotten control of his body for an instant.

"Oooh, you don't like this, do you?" The Moff growled, happy to have gotten some sort of reaction out of the stoic Mandalorian that was something other than a scream.

"Good, maybe we'll spend some extra time here." Gideon turned Din's hand over, studying it carefully, as if he were some sort of strange experiment.

"Hmm, naturally tan I see. As I can't imagine you sitting out on a beach somewhere soaking up the sun. Very strong hands but soft skin. That would make sense, seeing as they're always under the leather. But that will probably make this hurt even more, I'm afraid."

Din closed his eyes as the metal rod returned. Gideon put his hand back on the table and a nearby trooper immediately strapped it down again.

As Gideon pulled the rod closer, Din turned his head away and clamped his jaws to try and stop the screams he knew would get past him anyway.

Later, after a few more bouts with unconsciousness interrupted by the medical droid, Gideon moved on to Din's pauldrons. A guard removed the left one first and Din grunted in pain, his eyes still watering from the burn his left arm had received under where his vambrace had been. His hand was also a mangled mess of burns.

Gideon had the rod heating up again as the guard reached for Din's right pauldron.

"Wait. I want to do that one myself."

Gideon unclicked the pauldron from Din's thick leather jacket. He held it up, admiring the Mudhorn signet.

"This is very nice. I may have to adopt some sort of signet myself. I love the way you Mandalorians design your armor. Such beautiful craftmanship." Belying his words of admiration, Gideon immediately tossed the piece of armor into the pile they had made on the floor.

It was another small piece of evidence that showed Din how Gideon was losing control; despite the calm words he often spoke as he worked. The Moff had been losing it with each piece. Din could even see his hands shaking from time to time.

Din could feel how Gideon had been so sure each time he took off a piece of armor and applied the rod, that it would be the one to break the Mandalorian. But though Din was losing hope that he would survive this ordeal, he refused to give in and yield. If it was with his dying breath, if it was the last thing he did in this life, Din would hold his tongue and not give in to what the Moff wanted.

After Gideon finished with the pauldrons, burning Din's upper arms, and bringing on more screams, Din realized there was only one thing left. He knew what was coming next and he mentally prepared himself for it. His eyes had been closed when Gideon moved towards him again, but then he swallowed and looked up at the ceiling, as if to further prepare himself for what was about to happen.

"This is it, Din Djarin. One final offer at mercy. So, I ask you again. Do. You. YIELD?!" The Moff's voice shook as his anger finally made an appearance in his usually calm speech.

Din continued to stare at the ceiling.

"You know, it's not the first time I've seen your face, Mandalorian."

Din almost turned his head at that but didn't give the Moff the pleasure of any response.

"After all, when you break into an Empire base and a data terminal scans your face, that information is available to all of us. I didn't see it right away, not until after I evaded the prison ship. But I've still seen it."

Din still didn't move. He wasn't surprised by Gideon's revelation. He knew when he let that machine scan his face that there was a chance that someone would see it.

"I told you long ago that I'd wait for this moment. Until it meant more, until it would hurt more. And here we are." Gideon said, anger and something else in his voice. Was it excitement? Din wasn't sure.

"I wonder how different you look now, Din Djarin. Let's see what kind of damage your experience here has wrought." Gideon's voice dripped with anticipation, looking forward to what he hoped to find under the beskar mask.

Din felt Gideon's hand slide under the edge of his helmet. He swallowed again but continued looking straight ahead. The Moff lifted the edge, and an audible click was heard as the helmet disengaged. He removed it slowly, enjoying the moment, a smile playing across his lips.

But when Gideon lifted the helmet free, he did not find the broken Mandalorian he expected.

Din had done everything he could to prepare himself in those last moments before his helmet was removed. The Mandalorian hated that he couldn't fight back and wished that he could have shed some blood or broken some bones to try and prevent it from happening. But eventually Din resigned himself, knowing that the best thing he could do was to accept it. To fight, to cringe, to buck against his restraints, any of that would have given Gideon exactly what he wanted.

So Din had waited. He pulled in a few careful breaths to steady himself, gathering all of the strength he could at that moment. Determined not to show an ounce of weakness.

When Gideon lifted the helmet, what he found was the face of a defiant Mandalorian looking right back at him. The Moff stepped back involuntarily from the look, shocked.

Of course, the rest of Din's face did give silent testimony to the pain and exhaustion of all the past weeks. Especially the last hours. Gideon could see that the man was gaunt from lack of food and barely any water. His hair was matted, his beard overgrown, his head and face covered in sweat and grime.

But as Gideon continued to study Din, he was dismayed to see that the younger man's eyes did not show any of that.

The video feed of the facial scan had been grainy, and Gideon hadn't seen the eyes of the Mandalorian clearly. He was not expecting the deep brown color nor the way they seemed to bore straight into his soul.

Without moving a muscle, Din Djarin had taken away the Moff's final attempt to force him to yield. Without uttering a single word, Din was able to tell Gideon he had lost.

Gideon's face contorted in rage, and he practically spat when he spoke.

"Do you still refuse to yield even now? Even without your armor? Without the helmet that you hold so dear?"

Din simply stared at him. Inside his heart was pounding and it took a lot of effort to keep his breathing under control. It was the most vulnerable position he had ever been in in his life. But he let none of that show in his eyes.

As he stared at the Moff, something else started to grow in Din.

Anger.

Din let the emotion bubble up inside him. He didn't stop it from building and raging across his body. He couldn't do a thing about it but lie there and yet, it helped. In that moment, all fatigue and pain vanished, and he was thankful the helmet was removed. It gave him the ability to stare at his tormentor without a single ounce of fear. After the anger, there came a calm that he hadn't felt in a long while.

As Gideon stared at the Mandalorian, he saw his own mistake. Leaving the helmet until last, he had let his prisoner know that he had nothing else left to do. He watched Din's features flicker from anger to something else. Something that infuriated him.

To Gideon, Din almost looked bored. As if he knew there was nothing else left up the Moff's sleeve that could be worse than what had already been done to him.

It was the final straw that fed a whole new level of fury into Gideon.

"How dare you! I have given you every chance to yield. I have offered you the honor of a warrior's death and still you defy me?"

Gideon reached for the metal rod, once again glowing red hot. If the Mandalorian thought that he had nothing left he could do to him, he was about to discover just how wrong he could be.

The Moff was determined to find a way to remove that look from the other man's eyes and replace it with terror. Even if doing so would kill him. Gideon would happily give up his favorite toy for even one second of seeing him break finally.

"Remember Mandalorian, that you brought this on yourself," Gideon said with more anger dripping from his voice than Din had ever heard before. All semblance of control was gone. Gideon was giving in to his own rage.

As the Moff got closer, only then did Din allow himself to close his eyes. He wasn't sure how, but he suddenly understood what Gideon was going to do to him. The man had broadcast his intentions as clearly as if he had shouted them to the whole room.

Steeling himself for what he was sure was about to happen, Din squeezed his eyes tight and awaited his fate.

In the final moments before the rod reached him, Din sent a silent farewell and apology to Grogu. He didn't know if his thoughts would reach the kid, but he hoped they would somehow.

More and more certain with each passing second that this final act of Gideon's would end his life, Din also hoped that he was about to see his parents again.

A few moments later, a blood-curdling scream suddenly tore through the air in the corridor outside of the debriefing room. One of the troopers standing guard near the door flinched involuntarily at the sound of agony, then quickly straightened his shoulders back to attention.

As the sounds of torment continued, the guards stood stoically ignoring them. They had been outside of these types of rooms too many times before. They had learned to drown out the awful sounds that came through the door. Only occasionally would one of such anguish succeed in piercing through their armor, only to be quickly squashed and ignored again.

They would never admit it, not to each other, not even to themselves, but those screams were the worst they had ever heard coming through that door. The sound of them would haunt their dreams for many years to come.