Din Djarin was running. He was running as fast as he ever had in his life. The Mandalorian fired his blaster, taking out stormtroopers as he went, but it barely slowed him down.
He had started at the back of the field of attacking Mandalorians, but soon the experienced bounty hunter had outdistanced everyone, basically leading the charge against the retreating troopers.
For a moment Din almost paused, his steps shortening ever-so-slightly, not that it gave too many of the others a chance to catch up. He was thinking of his Foundling for a heartbeat, but he couldn't afford that. The kid could keep up, had a knack for keeping himself safe, and was surrounded by dozens of Mandalorians. The best chance they all had to take back their homeworld and get out of this alive was for them to get ahead of this threat. Din had no choice but to keep running and keep fighting.
So, he hadn't meant to end up almost alone in front of the blast door with Moff Gideon and dozens of beskar-clad stormtroopers. He really hadn't. He wasn't trying to be some hero or personally lead the clans. Instinct had taken over at some point and he'd simply done what he would do in any battlefield.
By the time Din realized where he was and what had happened, it was too late. Those few Mandalorians who made it to the front with him fell almost immediately. Soon he was surrounded, disarmed, and pinned down.
He had put himself squarely into the trap and he had nothing and no one to blame but his own kriffing stupidity.
The only reason he hadn't died immediately was that Gideon wanted him alive. Din heard the Moff order them to take him to the "debriefing room." Such an innocuous turn of phrase. It almost sounded like a nice place to meet after a battle to discuss how it all went, maybe over some fine drinks.
But Din was sure it would be nothing like that for him.
The only consolation he allowed himself as he was dragged away was the knowledge that Grogu was safe. Bo would make sure he stayed that way, Din was sure of it. Din didn't really care what happened to him as long as the kid was okay.
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Bo-Katan watched in horror as they fell into the Moff's trap and Din was captured. It was just so fast. No one had a chance to react until both doors were closed and it was too late. Even as Gideon made his pronouncements, even as she argued with him and let him know he was not getting the best of her, she was debating her next course of action.
Option one was to use the Darksaber to cut through the first blast door to get to Din. But no matter how many times Bo quickly ran through every scenario that would result from that, none of them ended with saving his life. She only saw more death. His, hers, his child's, and the rest of their people. It was a lose-lose no matter how you looked at it and she had no doubt Din Djarin would agree with her.
She could almost hear him now. As if they were standing around debating various battle scenarios, something Mandalorians did like others might play cards. It was a way to keep their minds as sharp as the daily drilling kept their bodies.
"Forget about me," he would say, leaning back against a wall with his arms and ankles crossed. A position she never quite figured out how he pulled off without falling down, as she surely would if she were to try it. "Get our people out of here. Get the kid out of here. You know he's my only priority. Fall back and regroup. You can't save me if you're dead. Your only choice is to come back for me later."
Well, it was mostly Din. Some of it was her. Din would never say to come back for him.
Before she could decide one way or another, more troopers came, and Din was dragged away. That did it. There was no other choice. She had to get them out of this trap.
Then Paz Vizsla sacrificed himself for all of their safety. She couldn't waste the chance he had given them. The Din in her imagination was right, Paz was right, they had to go.
Turning quickly, Bo used the Darksaber to cut a hole in the blast door that blocked their escape, watching as her people went through one by one. She made sure the IG-12 went through the hole, ensuring Grogu was safe before she went through last to provide coverage from behind.
Running behind her people, Bo quickly called Axe and changed his orders. They needed transport back to the Cruiser so they could jump into hyperspace and regroup. This wasn't the time for an attack, not with one of their own taken prisoner.
Stormtroopers followed after them, but they fought them off until finally they were alone in the tunnels. Everyone took a moment to catch their breath while waiting for Axe to get a transport close enough for them to escape.
But now that the immediate danger was over, there was something Bo had to do first. She strode to the middle of the group of panting Mandalorians.
"Where is he?" She demanded of no one in particular and everyone in general.
To their credit, no one foolishly asked who she meant. They knew exactly who she was looking for.
"Here!" Someone called out. Bo followed the voice and saw the familiar form of the IG-12 mech suit with its tiny occupant in the chest cavity.
As she approached, Grogu looked up at her, his eyes watery and ears down. The sight of his grief almost brought on tears of her own, but she pushed them far away. She couldn't afford to think about grieving. They were still in danger, and besides, there was nothing to grieve. Din was alive and she wasn't going to stop until she had him back.
"I'm sorry little one, I'm so sorry." Bo reached for a small hand and felt Grogu squeeze her finger.
"I promise you on my life that we will get your father back. Right now, I need to get you and all these other people to safety. Do you trust me?"
Grogu nodded, then pressed one of the buttons in his suit.
"Yes."
When a tear dropped from one of his eyes, Bo had to pull her lips together tightly to keep her chin from trembling. It didn't matter that no one would see it under her helmet, she couldn't afford to let sadness take over. She reminded herself again that now was not the time for her to lose control. Now was the time to lead her people and formulate a plan to bring back the child's father.
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After the grappling line had been pulled tight around Din's neck, the stormtroopers had taken advantage of his struggle to breathe to tie his feet and hands together. Then two of them picked him up by his arms and began dragging him.
His sight was blurry for a bit, but as they dragged him farther, it became more focused. Din carefully stayed lax in their grip, not letting on that he was anything but the nearly passed-out Mandalorian they thought they were carrying.
A minute later Din found his chance when they entered a tighter corridor.
Perfect.
Din uncoiled viciously, body-slamming one trooper into the wall and grabbing their blade before the other could act. Din had already cut his legs loose by the time the other trooper came for him. With his hands still tied, he made short work of them both. But as he looked up, hoping to escape, more troopers arrived faster than he anticipated.
The Mandalorian quickly realized that though these troopers were in beskar, they still fought like typical stormtroopers. They seemed to have no real idea where his weak spots were, and consequently where their own were. Unlike Din, who had fought people in beskar since he was a boy. He knew exactly how to get past their armor. Soon the ground was littered with fallen troopers, but still more came.
Din fought and fought, making his way through every one of them until another grappling line wrapped around his neck from behind. The trooper wielding it yanked hard, pulling Din to the ground and tightening the line. As he was dragged backwards, the line continued to cut off Din's oxygen. He struggled to get his hands under the thing, but it was too tight and soon his vision started to blacken as he struggled to breathe.
The battle-worn Mandalorian had one thought before he blacked out.
Well, I guess at least one of them learned a few things after all.
Din regained consciousness an unknown amount of time later. He didn't think it had been long, but he had no way to be sure. He was lying on his back, his entire body strapped down with metal bindings. He squirmed to find any room to free himself, but he could barely move. As he struggled, a voice rang out somewhere nearby.
"Ah, our guest has returned to the land of the living," Moff Gideon walked into Din's vision, smiling sickeningly.
"So glad you could join us," Gideon said with a ridiculous bow. Din heard the whir of mechanics under his suit. It was a smart move. The man would never beat a true Mandalorian, no matter how much beskar he wore. But with extra mechanics? That would make him tougher to kill, but not impossible.
Din really hoped that he'd get the chance to try.
Din didn't give the Moff the pleasure of a response. He was disgusted by how the man truly sounded like he was welcoming someone for a pleasant evening at his home. Gideon was enjoying this and would enjoy any response Din had. He was sure it wouldn't matter if he screamed or begged, just as long as Gideon knew he had goaded him into it. Din was determined not to give him one ounce of enjoyment.
People had often called him quiet in the past.
People had no idea how quiet he could be.
"Strong, quiet type?" Gideon asked with a head tilt, continuing to saunter around the table until he was facing away from Din. "That's quite alright. You don't need to speak. I'm not even going to ask you any questions. I don't need to in order to break you."
"Maybe…" He turned around to face Din again. "I'll just take your helmet."
Din stiffened in his bindings. Not enough to be seen by most, but Gideon had caught the slight movement of Din's hands gripping into tighter fists, his chest expanding as he held a breath.
"No, not yet." The Moff said, coming closer to Din until his face was inches from his T-visor.
"That's too easy. Removing your helmet wouldn't mean anything now. No, we'll save that for another time. When it means more, when it will hurt more."
Din didn't think he meant only physically.