Chapter 1 - Skywalker

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Author's Note: I'm really excited to be releasing this fanfic! I wrote all 20 chapters and 62k in exactly three weeks, so it set something of a record. And since it's done, you'll be getting updates on whatever Tuesdays I'm not releasing something else. :D But updates will be on every fourth Tuesday at least

Also, this was inspired by MasterQwertster's 'What do you Mean Time Travel?!' Chapter 1. They said anyone can adopt their plots, so I adopted that one. (I'll probably adopt a bunch of the others, but that's neither here nor there, right now. Lol.) The plot is... mostly the same, but not entirely. Just a heads up. Anyways, I hope y'all enjoy this time travel fix-it fic! :D

PS. There is Mando'a in here, and I put all the translations at the end. Let me know if I missed anything! ^-^

~ Amina Gila

The air feels weird, staticky almost, in a way that Din Djarin can't really put into words. Grogu seems to be especially attuned to it if the way he's perked up is any indication. He's alert, far more so than usual. "What –" he begins to say when a strange ripples rushes over him. He blinks, and suddenly, the scene before his eyes shifts. The street doesn't look the same anymore, and there are people in places where they weren't before; they aren't even the same people who were just there a moment ago?

What in the name of Ka'ra is going on?!

"Grogu, are you seeing this too?" Din questions, a bit uncertainly, as he looks down at his child. He had gone to look around the city the morning after he helped Boba – and everyone else – drive the Pyke Syndicate from the planet. He wanted to see how much damage had been done to the city before leaving Tatooine. And now, none of that damage is there anymore.

Grogu's answering coo of acknowledgement is surprisingly serious and apprehensive. Din can't help but fall back into automatic patterns of responding, and after first making sure that his cape is pulled to the side enough to shield his kid from any prying eyes, he takes in their surroundings, taking note of everything. The atmosphere in the crowd seems... excited, almost, but it's a far cry from the relief that everyone was exuding a moment ago in the aftermath of the Pyke Syndicate's defeat.

"I don't like this," Din mutters, slowly walking down the street of the marketplace, finally stopping next to an alley. He scans the crowd, but other than a few curious, interested glances, everyone is ignoring him. Which is good, because Din knows how visible he is in his beskar'gam, and if people are overlooking him, he doesn't need to be on his guard quite as much. At times like this, he really wishes that he and Grogu could communicate better. The kid's inability to speak in any known language really makes it hard for them to figure out together what's going on.

He lets the buzz of conversation sweep over him as he stands there, trying to pick out anything which might help him figure out what's going on. His first thought is that he might have been drugged, but the chances of someone sneaking up at him without him – or Grogu – noticing aren't very high. And then, he hears the name Jabba, so he turns in the general direction of the voice, listening intently.

"– that he invited Gardulla for the Boonta Eve race," a nearby middle-aged human man is avidly saying to a few other individuals.

Okay. There are two – actually three problems with that. One, Jabba is dead; he's been dead for the past five years. Two, Boonta Eve doesn't even occur around this time of year. Third, many people don't celebrate it anymore ever since Jabba was killed; it's a Hutt holiday after all, and Din is well aware of how many were glad to be rid of the despotic Hutt. They celebrated his death. This is – something is very, very wrong.

"We might have a problem, ad'ika," Din murmurs, careful to keep his voice down as he glances down at the baby. He never used to talk much, but all that changed after Grogu came into his life. Din's found it... soothing, in a way, to explain everything that's happening to the kid, and it sometimes helps him sort out his own thoughts on the situation at hand. "It sounds like Jabba is alive, but he's been dead for years."

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