star wars galaxy brain mode

He raced around to the other side and swung open the door without so much as a second glance at her.  Relief greeted him when Din attempted to move on his own steam, shifting carefully to clear his legs over the edge, one at a time.  From there, Cobb hauled him up.  With an arm slung across his shoulder, he guided his friend towards the steps. 

It was a slow shuffle to the bed, Din hunched forward and breathing heavily.  The neckerchief pressed to the wound was soaked through.  His glove too was stained with it.  Cobb didn’t waste time shucking layers, opting to help Din get horizontal as quickly as possible.  Jo’s sudden presence at his size with supplies distracted him momentarily.  A mournful, distressed vocalization drew his attention away further. 

Grogu was climbing up onto the bed at his father’s feet. 

Cobb plucked him up and tried to pass him off to Jo.    

The response was immediate.  The child began to flail and cry.  “Woah, hang on there, buddy.  I need-“

Jo nearly dropped him, the violence of his protest so extreme. 

“Grogu.”  Din’s voice cut in sharply. 

He stilled, his ears lifting.  His frustration and fear were still prominent in the room, his lips pressed together and his brow furrowed. 

Cobb pivoted towards the kit, cracking it open and laying it out. 

Din’s voice was weak when he continued, but his words were coherent and measured.  Through the pain, he focused on his distraught son.  “Cobb is going to help me take care of this.  You might be able to help too. But you have to listen.  Do you understand?”  Will you behave?

He nodded his head vigorously.  Cobb sent a questioning look towards Jo.  She also nodded, willing to continue to hold him.  Grogu’s agreement and Jo’s confirmation obtained, he dove in.  He stripped the makeshift bandage aside, Din’s hand also falling away.  The fabric around the bullet’s penetration had wicked up a fair amount of blood.  Without asking, Cobb used the shears to gain easier access.  He peeled the kute away. 

He got his first solid look at the perforation.  It was smaller than he imagined but weeping profusely now that it was uncovered.  Din sluggishly searched the edge of his chest plate, fingers skirting over the beskar to tacky, blood smeared skin.  The spot he indicated was a thumbs length away from the entry point.  Shot from below while flanked.  An awkward trajectory.  Lodged deeper than strictly a shallow subsurface position.  “It’s here.  You’ll have to-“

The bullet moved inside him.  He groaned, his whole body tightening into a rigid posture, instinctively trying to protect itself from the sudden intensity of fire beneath his ribs.  “No,” he ground out, close to hyperventilating. 

Grogu instantly stopped.  He dropped his hands and opened his mouth in horror.  He’d only made it worse.  The pulling force backed off, Din drew in longer breaths.  Cobb bit his tongue, his sudden anger not helpful.  He kept his ire out of his eyes and away from the child.

“Grogu,” Din finally whispered, trying to soothe him.  He was hanging on by a thread.  Unconsciousness was calling and the fight was taking everything from him.  “You have the right idea.  It has to come out.  Just-  Wait.  Listen.”

Tears trailed down his cheeks. 

Cobb reached for a sterile scalpel.  “Ready?”

“Do it.”

He cut into the edge of the wound as Din growled, hands gripping the blankets beneath him.  Fighting to not interfere.  His teeth ground together and for a moment, he held his breath.  Cobb spread the edges of the skin, widening the way for the slug’s exit. “Now, kiddo,” the Marshal ordered.

Gathering his concentration, Grogu called to it again.  Past his own fear.  Past his tears.  Past his father’s agony.  The deformed metal came shooting out, straight to his outstretched hand.  He dropped it like it was burning. 

Din exhaled the breath he’d trapped in his battered body and sagged.  His vision swam.  With beskar will, he held on just a little longer.  Grogu could heal him up.  Cobb could transfuse him.  All he needed to supervise was done.  “You got it from here?” 

His son was leaning as far as he could out of Jo’s retraining embrace, grabby hands insistent.  Cobb squeezed his arm below the pauldron.  “You’re good.  Ready to pass out?”