CHAPTER THREE

The Jedi

The two children don't close their eyes for more than a few seconds the whole trip back to Kaleela. Wide-eyed and hand in hand, they keep quiet and afraid, trembling slightly the whole time. Huddled at the back of the Headhunter, Derek hears only soft breaths and sobs being quietened and swallowed down, as if they are afraid of him too, just as much as they had feared the Huk who took them.

Derek doesn't blame them — he feels every bit as the monster he had always accused the Yam'rii of being, getting all those children killed in his haste to save them, not thinking about what the desperate soldiers would do to them when they found him in their ship.

For the rest of his life, the sight of the small bodies on the floor of the freighter will haunt him, asleep or awake. Or maybe it'll be the bright green and luminous amber that will do it — two out of forty.

What kind of life will these two grow up to have, being barely out of their mothers' breasts, and seeing all they had seen, suffering all they had suffered?

He chances a glance behind him, looking at the two of them, and Stiles's eyes catch his, staring unblinkingly, and it's not fear he sees there — it's gratitude. Stiles is staring at him as if he's afraid Derek will disappear, as if the kid thinks he actually did something good by causing the death of thirty eight of his friends — as if by bringing the two of them back home, his actions would be justified.

Lydia sniffs then, and Stiles looks back at her, their hands still entwined, and Derek focuses back on his flight.

He hadn't needed a reason to start fighting against the Huk when war had been declared on them, he hadn't needed any kind of incentive to rise through the ranks as fast as he had, and he hadn't needed a reason to accept the title of General at only twenty-one when it was offered to him — he hadn't needed anything more than knowing he was Kaleesh, all they had was their homeland, and he would fight for it.

Now, though, now he has a reason to win this war once and for all — those two children, hand in hand, brave even when close to death, resilient as he had seen few adults be.

He would fight for them, and for all the others who wouldn't return.

He would help his land, by whatever means necessary, so that no other children from Kalee would suffer as these two have suffered.

X

Stiles is having a hard time understanding what he's feeling, because it's too much. He's afraid, and he's sad, and he's angry, and he wants to cling to General Hale and never let him go, because right at this moment, he feels like the only safe place to exist in the universe is by his side. Staring at the back of the man's head when he's flying them back home is what's keeping him from crying, and from yelling, and… so many other things he doesn't quite understand, but knows aren't good.

Suddenly, in the space of a couple of hours, no more than that, the whole world has changed, nothing is like it was this morning — he sees it now: they live in a dangerous place. So very, very dangerous.

Lydia makes a tiny sound of complaint and he loosens his grip on her hand, having squeezed too tight in his desperation to feel her by his side.

All of their friends are dead. They are the only ones left, and he can't quite grasp that.

He thinks of his mom, and then stops the thought in its tracks — he can't. He just can't think of his mother right now, because every time he tries, his head feels like it's going to explode, and he gets this funny feeling in his heart, as if it's being squeezing through a very thin tube. He closes his eyes so tightly he can almost see stars imprinted on his lids, trying to breathe, because it's suddenly becoming more and more difficult to do so.

General Hale glances at them and his whole face seems to close off, but not in a mean way — he looks as if he's hurting, and Stiles has a hard time believing that.

Nothing hurts their General.

It's impossible to hurt such a hero.

Taking a deep breath to gather what little bravery he has left, he squeezes Lydia's hand again, before licking his lips and speaking out.

"You know what happened to my mom?" he asks quietly, his voice strange even to his own ears, as if a little part of him isn't there.

The General startles a bit, clearly not having expected him to talk, and the man glances at them again, his eyes moving fast, like they're trying to get away before he has to answer it.

"She was with your father," General Hale answers, and Stiles stares at him, blinking slowly, and trying not to get angry. That is what adults do when they don't want to say something — they answer things in a way that is not an answer. His dad does this all the time when he's not off with the Army; his mom does it too, and to her, he replies with a cheeky "That's not an answer", and she laughs and laughs, and calls him her little genius, and twirls him around the house until he forgets what he had asked in the first place.

He can't do that to General Hale, because he's not his mom. No one else is his mom, and if she's gone, and his dad goes back to fight, who'll take care of him? Who'll be with him? Is he going to be all alone now?

Swallowing hard, he closes his eyes again, fighting back tears as Lydia pats his head.

He doesn't want to be alone forever. He wants his mom, more than anything right now, but he has a feeling, that little spark that keeps telling him things before they happen, that little feeling like he's taking a peek into the future, tells him he won't see her again. Not like it was before.

"I'm sure she'll be fine, Stiles," General Hale's voice is much softer inside the ship. He had only ever heard him talk to the troops, it's different now. He talks as if he's afraid he'll break Lydia and Stiles to pieces with his voice alone, "She's with your father, she'll be fine."

Stiles doesn't believe him, and one look at Lydia tells him she doesn't believe him either, but neither of them say anything. Calling the man who's taking them home a liar isn't really something they want to do.

They keep silent the rest of the trip, his eyes feeling heavier and heavier, and Lydia leans against him, eyes closed, and he follows her into sleep. Exhaustion — physical and emotional — taking them over.

When he wakes up again, they're in Kaleela. There are so many people around, Lydia's eyes are big as saucers when she looks out the ship, and Stiles is just as scared.

He only wants his dad and his mom, and not all of these people.

General Hale stares at them for a moment before he gets out of the ship, and reaches inside to pick Lydia up and set her on the ground. He reaches in again, and takes Stiles, who has a vice-like grip around the man's neck again. The General kneels, picking the little girl up too, and they entwine their hands around his chest like they did on the Huk ship.

Stiles hides his face in General Hale's neck, but peeks a bit when the crowd around the ship grows silent as they pass by. The people part ways for them, a cry starting to spread around them when the Kaleesh realize this is all that's left: they are the only children to come back to them. A scream, loud, and broken, and full of despair rings through the city, and it spreads and spreads, and General Hale seems to want to walk faster, but he doesn't. He is not running away from his people's pain.

At the end of the landing strip, there are five strange people Stiles has never seen before, and he wants to hide again, but he doesn't, curiosity getting the best of him. General Hale freezes when he sees them too, before picking up his pace, passing by the strangers in a hurry, towards the Medical Centre.

"General Hale," one of them starts, a dark skinned man with a shaved head, in dark brown robes, but General Hale doesn't stop.

"I'm taking these children to their parents. We will talk when I am done."

Stiles could swear General Hale's voice could have cut glass by then, and he looks back at the strangers — a dark haired boy in brown robes gives him half a wave, which Stiles answers in kind.

Maybe these strangers are here to get the Huk away from them once and for all.

He can only hope.

X

When Derek sees the Jedi, his blood runs cold.

He won't claim to be a genius, or gifted in any other thing apart from warfare — he is good at it, it's what he excels at, and seeing the Jedi here, seeing Master Deaton on his planet, after the stunt the Huk pulled with the children, he knows they are doomed.

This won't be a matter of battles anymore: it has turned into politics, and Kalee will never have the upper hand on that field, simply because they have nothing of interest to anyone. The biggest export they have on their planet is mercenaries, for stars' sake.

So he swallows dryly and he keeps on walking, because he has caused enough damage for one day to stop for negotiations with the Jedi carrying two hurt children in his arms. He doesn't stop for anyone, the kids warm against his chest, taking comfort wherever they can, and, if he is honest with himself, he takes comfort in them too. They are why he is doing what he's doing — fighting all these battles and facing all these dangers. So that the next generation of Kaleesh won't have to suffer as he has suffered his whole life.

The next generation of Kaleesh, which is now the two broken, scared children in his arms.

When he finally gets to the Medical Center, Melissa McCall is the first one to come rushing forward, taking Lydia from him. She tries to get Stiles too, but the child only clings harder to his neck, and the nurse blinks away tears, caressing the top of the girl's hair.

"Colonel Stilinski is in Claudia's room," she tells him, voice quiet and trying for professional, but missing by eons with the way it rings of deep sadness, "Do I need to check him for injuries?" she asks, nodding towards Stiles, but the kid is already shaking his head against Derek's neck.

"I want my mom," he says then, voice small and wobbling with tears, and Derek shakes his head at her, starting to walk towards the same room he had left hours before.

If Claudia is still in a room, then maybe there is a chance.

Maybe it won't be all bad.

Maybe this broken little boy will have a full family still.

He opens the door carefully, minding the noise he makes, and one look inside tells him that hope is as futile as it has always been for him — Claudia Stilinski is lying very, very still on the bed. Machines are hooked up to her chest and nose, and her heartbeat can be heard in the room, seeming to go slower and slower with every beep from the machine.

Colonel Stilinski is sitting by the bed, one of his wife's hands in his, and he's looking at her as if by sheer force of will he'll make her okay again.

"Mom…" Stiles whispers, wriggling in his arms to get down, and Derek sets the boy on the bed, beside his mother. The kid puts his arms around her neck, hugging her close, tears falling earnestly now that he's home — shock and fear and despair all coming out now that he knows he's safe, and Stilinski gets up then, his free hand resting at the back of his son's neck, the boy lying over his mother's unmoving body, and Derek turns his back, intent on leaving such a private moment.

"General Hale," Stilinski calls, his voice thick with tears. Derek turns then, looking at the man, who nods at him, "Thank you," he whispers, grip tightening on his son, and Derek nods back, leaving.

He closes the door behind him, and takes a moment to close his eyes, asking for wisdom and patience to deal with whatever it is the Jedi brought with them. When he opens them again, Melissa is in front of him, staring with the same broken look he feels will be on every face of every Kaleesh for years to come.

"Lydia is resting," she tells him without waiting for him to ask, "Her parents were already waiting here, she'll be fine." He nods in answer, and she goes on, "I should check on Stiles…" she trails off, as Derek shakes his head at her.

"He is not injured. Not physically — a few scrapes and cuts, nothing that can't wait," he stops talking, turning to look through the small window on the door, and he sees the boy still clinging to his mother's body, his father trying so very hard not to cry, "He needs this more than he needs mending."

Melissa nods, both staring into the room, aware that things are about to get a lot worse.

"What is her condition?" he asks quietly, knowing they can't hear him in the room, but careful of it anyway.

"She won't wake up again," her voice is gentle, but firm, and Derek turns to look at her, waiting for the rest of it, "The machines are keeping her alive, but her mind is too damaged now. Jon wanted to wait for Stiles to come back, he said, but I think he can't let her go quite yet," Melissa's voice is sad, but also final. She deals with death every day, it's as much a part of her life as it is Derek's.

"Thank you," he tells her, staring straight ahead, "For dealing with Lydia's parents, and the fallout of the attack."

Melissa puts a hand on his shoulder then, her face sympathetic and sad.

"And thank you. For bringing them back."

He nods and leaves without another word.

He doesn't say he only brought two of them back, he doesn't say he failed, he doesn't say she shouldn't be thanking him, but blaming him — because Melissa has a way of seeing the best in people, and never giving up. She didn't give up when her mercenary husband left her, or when her child died a few weeks after that, not able to breathe the dry air of their planet properly when the hospital didn't have the necessary equipment to help him. She didn't give up when all she could do was take care of the children of other people, and then all the other people themselves.

She wouldn't give up on him, on hoping he did the right thing, on telling him he is not to blame, and maybe, eventually, he would have started believing her, and that is a luxury he cannot allow himself to have.

He doomed thirty-eight children to death, and now he has to pay the price, in whatever form it comes.

X

Once, years ago, the Jedi were considered heroes by every sentient being on the Galaxy.

Brave and special and smart, they were the keepers of the peace, the wise beings guiding the Senate and helping them make their home a better place for everyone.

That time, however, is gone.

The Jedi still have power, but doubt is ever growing on how wise they really are, how selfless. People start wondering if what they do is for the benefit of the Galaxy or for themselves, for their own status — and while this doubt would still take years to grow roots in Coruscant or any of the Inner planets, at the Outer Rim it's a truth universally acknowledged: the Jedi do what the Senate tells them, and what the Senate decides doesn't always hold to the concept of Justice and Fairness as much as it should. Politicians, sometimes, (most times, to be honest), make decisions based on what would be better for Trade and Commerce. They have to think of the long run, and not the immediate safety and fairness to a people who lived so far away most Coruscanti don't even know they exist.

The Huk Wars had only come to the knowledge of the Senate because of how much it was costing the Huks. Ever expanding and greedy, the Yam'rii decided to try and enslave a smaller planet, with no significant trade or army, and in doing that, had awoken one of the best warriors anyone had ever learned of. General Hale had won every battle, fought back every tactic, taken back everything the Yam'rii kept trying to steal from his people — and the Huk, richer and better equipped, with more money and more soldiers, started to lose a war they had thought would be an easy conquest.

At any other time in the past, when the people of Huk decided to come and ask for Jedi interference in that war, they would have favored the Kaleesh — the brave people who fought back — but now things were different, and fairness and justice couldn't always be the only measures with which the Council made their decisions. They have to think of the Senate, which they have sworn to protect and obey. They have to think of the commerce, and of the economy, and of the other people who could be dragged into this war too in case they don't end it soon — and that is why they had supported the Senate's rule in favor of the Yam'rii.

Master Deaton doesn't like it any more than the other Jedi with him do, but sometimes even the Jedi have to do what is right for the bigger picture instead of what's fair to one planet.

Master Nimueh looks like she wants to rip someone's eyes out, staring straight ahead, as they wait on the temple-like structure they were led to after General Hale had come back with two children.

Two children, out of the forty who had been taken, and one more left for dead, for trying to defend his brother.

It leaves a bad taste in his mouth knowing that he will be defending the people who did that.

Looking to his right at the table they're sitting, he sees Gaius calmly staring out the windows, passive for anyone looking, but Deaton has known him for long enough to see the storm brewing under his seeming apathy. The padawans who came with them, Morgana and Mordred, are eerily quiet, and he knows they don't like the situation any more than their Masters.

It would clearly be up to him to keep their mission as short as possible, and play the villain in the eyes of the people. Although Nimueh is a Guardian like him, he has a feeling she wouldn't exactly be enforcing the ruling established by the council in this situation, and Gaius is here for negotiation, not to end the war as had been dictated by the Senate.

What they have to do in Kalee won't endear them to any of their people, but it has to be done.

Sometimes he wonders about his Order, and remembers the prophecy long told by Masters older than time. He sometimes remembers that, and reflects that the chosen one better come soon, or they would find no Order to save, and no balance to restore.

General Hale enters the meeting room they're in, about two standard hours after they met him at the landing strip, changed into a clean uniform, looking ready for battle, and Deaton has to give it to him — the man seems to fill up every space in the room, his presence remarkable and strong even when there are five Jedi with him.

The General doesn't say anything when he enters, staring at them from the top of the stairs for a few seconds, and Deaton takes the time to look more closely at the Kaleesh who's made a name for himself as the most competent General from the Outer Rim. As a native Kaleesh, he has wolfish features, his hair thick and wild, in the darkest shade of black, his skin pale underneath the fur that runs near his hairline and down the back of his neck. His ears are slightly pointed, and his eyes shine electric blue from time to time, belying his anger. Wearing the brown leather uniform the Kaleesh favor, he looks wild and angry, and the Jedi can see why he is so feared in the battlefield. He is taller than Deaton himself, but that is not why his presence fills up more space, stance cold and hard. The Jedi can see him closing his hands into fists and opening them up again, claws coming and going in a nervous habit, or maybe just to try and contain his anger.

"General Hale," Gaius starts, as he is the Consular, and thus the responsible for the negotiations — as short lived as they would be.

Hale merely looks at him and comes down the four steps separating him from the table, stationing himself at the head of it, but not sitting down. Most buildings in Kalee look like old temples, in sand and orange tones, and this one isn't any different — the rough stone on the floor, tall walls made out of polished rock, and the open windows overlooking the city center seem to give off a yellow glow with the setting sun behind them.

When it becomes clear that the man won't talk, Master Gaius exchanges a look with Deaton, but keeps going.

"We are here to negotiate the terms of a cease fire with the Yam'rii race of the planet Huk."

Hale still doesn't talk, just staring at them for a while more.

"We were told we'd be talking to Chief Stilinski," Gaius goes on, and even he, in his infinite patience, seems to be losing a bit of his calm with the general's silence.

The Kaleesh looks at each one of them separately, then, staring intently at Deaton, Gaius, Mordred and Morgana, finishing with Nimueh, who, Deaton begs the stars, won't start talking too, because she is more likely to take this man's side than the one the Senate ordered them to take.

"Chief Stilinski is at the hospital," General Hale finally starts, an edge to his voice no matter how quiet it is, and he rolls his shoulders before continuing, as if to stop a full on change into the more wolf-like creature the Kaleesh were rumored to have when fighting, "He is taking care of his son — one of the only two children I could rescue from the Huks."

The Jedi are quiet at that, and Deaton can feel this going even worse than he had anticipated.

"He is also at the hospital because, when taking his son, one of the soldiers threw his wife against a wall, and she is now hanging by machine threads on a bed from which she will never again rise; sleeping, never to wake up."

"General Hale—" he starts, but the Kaleesh merely looks at him and keeps talking, as if not having heard him.

"There is a five year old girl in this city now, who's seen one of her best friends having his neck snapped by a Huk, just because they could. A four year old little boy who saw his mother get killed, and then saw thirty-six of his peers shot to death or killed by the Huks' bare hands because they were too loud. Two children who saw one of their best friends try to defend them, putting herself in front of them to stop them from getting hurt. They saw this friend jump in front of a shot meant for a Huk, because she thought she could save another youngling," he pauses, staring at the Jedi in the room, his voice not getting louder at any point, and not a single one of them can look at him in the eye, not even Deaton, "And now you are here to tell us terms for surrender, because a whole army couldn't take on this bare land, and they resorted to a corrupt government who'd rather blame us for being attacked, and having our children killed, than lose a bit of trade and a bit of credit."

Silence falls over them, and Deaton looks down, not in defeat, but thinking of how can they navigate this situation in such a way that won't end with them having to actually wipe out the Kaleesh from the Galaxy.

When did they become such tools for the Senate that they have to uphold such unfair decisions?

Before any of them can answer, the door opens again.

"That is quite enough, Derek. Thank you."

Chief Stilinski is wearing simple clothing, white tunic of rough fabric, and simple pants — not a battle uniform like General Hale is. He comes in with his son in his arms, the little boy clinging to him and hiding his face in his neck. Both of them have their eyes red from crying, and the chief looks like a man twice his age. Now clean, and out of the torn clothes they had seen him wearing when coming into the city in the General's arms, the child looks even more pale and fragile — the way he desperately clings to his father does nothing to assuage Deaton's regret.

Never, in his whole life with the Order, has Deaton least wanted to complete an assignment.

Derek takes a step away from the table and Chief Stilinski moves to pull the chair at the head of the table out. The little boy in his arms stares at the General and, when his father turns, making to put the child on the floor, the child raises his arms for the general, who holds him in his arms until his father takes him again, setting him on his lap. When the Kaleesh has the child in his arms, his whole face softens, and Deaton can almost feel the hearts of the two padawans breaking.

Chief Stilinski seems to steel himself for a moment before looking at them again.

"I gather, by General Hale's speech, that you are not here to negotiate terms that will be favorable to Kalee."

Gaius nods somberly, and he leans forward on the table, his hands steepled in front of him, leaning on his elbows.

"The Senate has favored the Huk with their decision, Chief Stilinski."

"And you have come here to enforce that decision," Hale says through gritted teeth.

"It was not a decision of the council, General Hale. We are only here as negotiators, not as warriors," Nimueh tells him, sympathetic and firm all the once.

General Hale scoffs, and Stilinski tilts his head to the side a bit before speaking.

"Is that why they sent two Guardians, and only one fully trained Consular? Because this is negotiation?"

Deaton can see in him the Colonel of the Army he is at that moment, the political leader of a land that would never be ruled by the weak, even through all the pain and misery — this is dangerous territory. They are dealing with a General who knows how good he is at war, and a man who's lost everything but his son to the very same war the Senate wants to blame on his people now.

They wouldn't win, in case they decided not to agree to the terms — they would go to war, and they would lose, but Hale would take many good warriors with him before he went down too. Savage as they may be, the Kaleesh are also a proud people — Deaton can almost see in these two warriors' eyes the way they'd rather die in battle than lose their whole war, their whole honor, at a table.

"We are fully aware that your situation — that this situation — isn't ideal for anyone involved. We were sent to negotiate the terms, yes, but also to reinforce these very same terms, in case there was a disagreement here," Gaius tells the man calmly, and Stilinski too, only stares for a moment, not reacting. His son turns a bit on his lap, staring at the strange people at the table, and Deaton feels a very faint shiver — something the older, more experienced Jedi feel every time someone with the gifts of the Jedi is around.

He turns to Gaius, and they trade a look, knowing the man, and also Nimueh, felt it too.

"Why did they take the children?" Hale asks before they can dwell on the fact that the child sitting at the head of the table might as well just be the way to end this conversation with no more war, and no more bloodshed.

"We were told that the children would be taken away for the duration of the negotiation only, and then given back to their families. No kidnapping was to take place, it was supposed to be a good will gesture from the Yam'rii to spare the children the dangers of war coming to this planet," Deaton explains patiently, looking back at the General.

"Are we supposed to believe that is what would have happened? The second they took notice of the invasion of their ship, they started killing the children. The last Huk standing killed Isaac Lahey in cold blood, just for the pleasure of not letting him live. And we are supposed to believe they would give us our children back."

The child on the Chief's lap whimpers quietly, and Hale's whole demeanor changes and softens. He looks as if he regrets talking about the children who died, and stares at the child apologetically as the boy's father rubs a hand down his back comfortingly.

"Maybe this negotiation isn't the place for a youngling, especially one who's suffered such a traumatizing experience so recently," Gaius tells the Chief, and the man looks as if he wants to argue, or maybe send them away — possibly forever, Deaton is sure.

"Morgana, Mordred and I can take him," Nimueh suggests quickly after that, and Deaton now is sure she felt the child too, "We'll have a walk around the square. How would you like to show us your village, chikra?"

The boy seems to tremble in his father's arms, clearly not comfortable in the room, but also not willing to leave the comfort of familiar people.

"Can General Hale come too?" he asks, his voice a tiny whisper, and Deaton is admittedly surprised by this. Feeling safe around the man is one thing, but asking for his presence instead of his father's is something else entirely.

Hale looks torn when the Chief looks at him, as if asking for his opinion on the matter — what is even more surprising to the Jedi is when the man himself crouches down to Stiles's height, staring right at the boy.

"Are you sure you want me to come?" his voice is soft when talking to the child, and the little boy nods quickly.

"It may be best, Derek," the Chief tells him, "This way I can talk about these terms of negotiation more calmly, knowing Stiles is well protected."

And also knowing the room won't erupt into battle every time they disagree, with Hale far from there.

The man obviously knows this is what his Chief means, but he nods anyway, and takes Stiles from his father's arms, setting him on his hip, and striding out of the room, not waiting for the three Jedi who had offered to come along.

As Nimueh walks out, she and Deaton trade a look — she will get confirmation, he's sure of it.

Now, to the dreaded negotiation. He asks the stars for patience, and prays that Gaius skills, which are nothing to scoff at, will be enough for them to leave Kalee in peace.

X

Derek doesn't feel comfortable with three Jedi around him, let alone near a child as traumatized as the Chief's son is right now, but he guesses he has no choice — he is well aware of the fact that he is a risk in any negotiation room. His affairs are those of war, he is no good with words and agreements, especially those which will be wildly unfair to his people.

He fears for their future now more than he ever did in battle. Chief Stilinski may have been under him in battle, but in Kaleela he is the highest politic authority, and whatever he decides is best is what the people will have to live with. In his heart, he knows Jon would never do anything to harm their people, but he also knows that there is no way the Jedi sent a commission with two Consulars and three Guardians, if they are counting the padawans, should the terms of said agreement be favorable or fair to them.

They would lose this war with words, and would be lucky if they had anything left after the Jedi went back to Coruscant.

All of their children gone but two, and now all of their pride also.

"We were all sorry for what happened to the children," the Jedi says, and Derek turns to stare at her. She is dark haired and blue-eyed, just like the two padawans following them a few steps behind, but she has a certain edge to her that the two younglings lack — she has seen much of the world, and for some reason, he believes her more than he does the Jedi Guardian they left behind with Stilinski.

"So sorry you'll let us free to finish this war the way it should be finished?" he can't help but snap at her, and she almost smiles at him.

"We only follow orders, no matter our own personal views."

Derek doesn't answer to that, not wishing to start a fight while he's carrying a child in his arms.

Stiles still looks small and afraid, but he's peeking over Derek's shoulder at the padawans behind them, and from time to time, Derek can hear a quiet giggle at whatever faces the other two are pulling at him. The boy will never forget what's happened to him, but maybe he can overcome it and become a man like his father is — a leader of their people, respected and correct. A far better man than Derek can ever be.

"Where is the Medical Center?" the Jedi woman asks, and Derek stares at her in question, making her continue, "It looks like the youngling is a bit too pale, maybe we should have him looked at?" she suggests, and Derek shuffles Stiles a bit, staring at him carefully.

He is, in fact, a bit too pale, his mouth a little too colorless, and checking him wouldn't cause any harm. He isn't sure whether Chief Stilinski had Stiles looked at before going to meet with the Jedi, and so he nods towards the low building, walking that way.

Stiles wiggles a bit in his lap, and Derek sets him down — the child immediately holds onto his hand, and it's such a foreign feeling Derek barely knows what to do with it.

The two padawans start walking a bit faster, keeping up pace with the child.

"What is your name, little one?" the boy asks, making the girl scoff.

"Barely grew a few inches, and already calling other people little, Mordred?" she teases, and Stiles smiles at her a bit.

"Stiles," the boy answers, voice still unsure, but a little closer to what Derek had always thought Stiles would be like, from the stories Chief Stilinski had told them during their many campaigns.

"I'm Mordred, and this is Morgana. It's very nice to meet you."

Stiles doesn't answer to that, just keeps staring at the padawans in curiosity as they walk to the Medical Center.

"What do you like to do, Stiles?" the girl, Morgana, asks him, then, and Stiles tilts his head to the side a bit, considering.

"I like to play with Lydia. And Heather and Isaac, and—" he stops talking then, face going even paler, and Derek glares at the two young Jedi, but the boy is already talking again.

"Is Lydia your best friend? Morgana is mine, we met when we were even younger than you are now, did you know? We lived in the same house in the temple."

Stiles swallows dryly a bit, and then blinks at them, frowning a bit.

"You have a house in a temple?"

"Yes, it's where all the Jedi live to train. Our house is like our family when we are little, like you."

"But where does your mom live? And your dad?"

The two young Jedi trade a look, and Mordred shrugs, reaching out both arms and offering to carry Stiles silently. To Derek's surprise, the boy actually accepts the offer, being picked up and set on Mordred's hip, between him and Morgana. Nimueh comes to his side then, glancing at him from time to time as they watch the younger ones talking.

"They live in their own planets, in their own homes. We are very special, Stiles, because we have gifts to train to become Jedi. We help people around the whole Galaxy."

"General Hale helps people," the child says, a slightly stubborn tone to his voice, "He saved me, and Lydia. And he fights the bad Huk with my dad, and they keep us safe."

"We help people too," Morgana tells him, looking at Derek from the corner of her eye, making it clear to him that she doesn't fully believe he would be equal to a Jedi, "But we don't help just the one planet, we help them all. It's full of adventures and learning, and the Temple is all the way into Coruscant, and the city is so bright and beautiful it'll take your breath away."

Suddenly, Derek realizes why they are going to the Medical Center, and why they are talking about being a Jedi like it is a gift from the stars — Stiles. They think Stiles is like them.

He stops in his tracks, ready to take Stiles back from Mordred's grip, and Nimueh stops too, putting a hand on his shoulder.

It takes everything he has not to snarl at her, even if she could probably take him apart with a single wave of her hand.

"We just need to test him. If he has midi-chlorians in his blood in a high enough count, the Jedi have the right, and the duty, to take him in," she whispers, and he just stares then, in disbelief.

"You want to take one more child away from us?" he growls at her, and she just shakes her head.

"It's not about taking him away from your people, it's about bringing him into the world where he belongs," she pauses then, taking a step to face him, making him stop, and the two padawans keep heading into the center with Stiles between them, "Think, General Hale, just think of a world where Kalee finally has a voice inside Coruscant. Stiles would be the first child of this planet to be brought into our fold — one day, when he is wise enough, he could be in the High Council. He is not young enough that he won't remember his own home planet — he will remember Kalee, he will remember you and his father, and how you fought to keep this world safe." She stares intently into his eyes, earnest and true, and Derek takes a deep breath, trying to find words to fight against what she's saying, but she pushes on, "Don't think for a second that even one of us who are here today fully agrees with the Senate's decision, but it is a necessary evil — it is politics, and they rule the Galaxy in a way that the Jedi never meant to. We are the keepers of the peace, not soldiers. However, what we do, and what we say, has weight in the Senate and with many Senators, from many planets — but right at this moment, Kalee isn't among them, because there is no one there to defend it. Stiles could be it. He could be your chance to actually save Kalee. To make this planet count like so many others do, no matter how far from Coruscant they are," he looks down, but she keeps quiet and waiting until he stares into her eyes again, "Would you deny your planet this chance? More than that, would you deny that child his destiny, his path, what he is meant to be? He could be the savior of Kalee, would you deny him that?"

Derek doesn't answer, because he knows it would serve no purpose: the law allows the Jedi to take the children who can become one of their own, and there is nothing any of them common folk can do about it. Breathing in deeply again and shaking her grip on his shoulder, he walks towards the Medical Center with the Jedi Master a few steps behind him.

When they enter, Melissa McCall has a small phial beside her, fingers flying over the keyboard on a terminal, and she looks at Derek with tears in her eyes.

Nimueh walks past him and crouches to talk to Stiles, but Derek isn't listening anymore.

It seems as if he cannot win this day.

X

Chief Stilinski and the Jedi are waiting at the steps of the building when they walk back, and Derek can't help but feel like he has failed the man somehow, for having let the Jedi test his only son — they have the right to take him away now, no matter what the man thinks or wants, no matter that Stiles is all he has left in the world.

By the look at the older man's face, he is aware of what happened.

When they come close enough, he leans down and picks Stiles up, holding him close and staring at Derek.

"He tested positive, then," he states, and Derek nods, looking at Master Deaton and then at Master Gaius — both men at least have the decency of looking grim and somber, aware of what they are doing to this man who has lost everything in the space of a few hours.

Master Nimueh and the two padawans are a few steps away from them and, when Jon Stilinski sets his son down, crouching to look at him at eye level, the others have the decency to look away, giving him the illusion of privacy. Derek doubts any of them would leave Stiles out of their sight now, and that angers him as much as it makes him feel more calm — for all their faults, the Jedi look out for their own, and Stiles will forever be protected in the Force, or whatever it is that these people seem to believe so fiercely it makes them think it's right to take children away from their families.

"Son, I need to tell you something very important," Jon starts, and Derek can see Stiles frowning, worry etching his features in a way that shouldn't be so natural on a child his age, "I need you to listen carefully, can you do that?"

The boy nods, and Jon swallows dryly, his eyes red, but he doesn't let any tears fall — maybe he doesn't have any of them left.

"Master Deaton and Master Gaius told me you are very special. They want to take you to Coruscant, to become a Jedi."

"Like Mordred and Morgana?" the kid asks, more cautious than a four year old has any right to be, and Jon inhales sharply in surprise and sadness.

"Yes. Like them."

"Are you coming too?" His voice is quitter now, almost as if he knows the answer but doesn't want to believe it yet.

"I can't, son. I have to take care of Kaleela, and only children can be taken into training. I'm not as special as you are," he finishes with a small smile, and Stiles tilts his head, tears running down his face.

"Is Lydia coming too?"

Chief Stilinski shakes his head, and doesn't seem to know how to answer, but the kid keeps going.

"Is it because mom got hurt trying to help me? Is that why you're sending me away?"

At that, the man seems to be completely lost for words, shaking his head vehemently, but still can't find his voice to answer.

It's the padawan, the boy, who takes a few steps towards them, and kneels by Stiles too.

"Your father isn't sending you away, Stiles. We aren't taking you away from your family either — we are giving you a bigger one. More friends for you to make, more things for you to learn, and one day, when you're older, you'll become a Jedi Knight, and have adventures, and help people," he pauses then, reaching out and putting his hands on the boy's shoulders, "Your dad isn't sending you away, he's giving you the chance to live a life like no one else on this planet can."

Stiles doesn't seem entirely convinced, but Stilinski picks Stiles up, then, hugging him tightly, and kissing both his cheeks, holding onto him like a lifeline.

"I love you, son. Never, ever forget that."

The child holds him back, and it's only when the two older Masters start walking down the steps that the man looks up at Derek, and gives Stiles to him, shaking his head, and turning away.

Derek Hale, General of the Kaleesh Army, was the hero who carried those two children back into Kalee after the Huk killed all the others, and now, he is the one carrying one of those children away from Kalee, possibly forever.

Stiles's small hands are holding him as tightly as he can manage, and he can't help but squeeze him gently back, caring more for this child than he had cared about anyone else since his whole family died on the first Huk attack, so long ago.

The Jedi Consular boards the ship, and his stern look makes his padawan follow him; and then it's Master Deaton's turn. Only Nimueh and Mordred remain, and Derek doesn't want to let this child go, but he knows he has no choice, none of them does, after all — not even the Jedi.

Staring at the two of them, Derek takes a step towards the boy and carefully passes Stiles to him. The smaller boy stares at him with huge eyes, but doesn't complain, doesn't beg to stay, and doesn't ask for his dad — Derek isn't sure if it's shock or acceptance.

"Look after him," he tells the padawan somberly, his voice thick with anger and frustration.

"I promise," Mordred tells him, nodding once, holding Stiles carefully as if afraid the child will break.

The last time General Hale sees Stiles Stilinski is when he boards the ship, small hand reaching out as if trying to touch him, tears rolling freely down his cheeks. The ship takes flight just moments later, and Derek stares at it until it disappears completely into the night of Kalee.

They lost — and he has a feeling it was more than just the war.

X

When he goes back into the city, he finds Chief Stilinski sitting in the dark in his own home, a bottle of Ithorian mist on the table, his glass almost empty — Derek has the feeling that is not his first one either.

He sits, draining the rest of the glass and closing his eyes at the burning taste.

Stilinski still hasn't looked at him properly, looking lost, angry, and half-dead.

"How bad is it?" he asks after they keep drinking for long minutes in silence, neither of them bothering to turn on the lights, darkness suiting their moods well enough.

Stilinski scoffs, bitter in a way Derek had never seen him before.

"They blamed the whole war on us. We owe more to the Huks and the Banking Clan than we could get if we sold the whole planet population into slavery," he pauses, refilling the glass and taking it to his lips in a long drag before finally looking at Derek in the eye, a bitter smirk on his lips, "The Huks won't attack us again, though, it's part of the agreement. They took all of our children, our people will probably starve to death, and we owe them our very souls, but that bunch of incompetent bugs can't attack us again."

Derek wishes he could summon up anger and fury like he had earlier that day — had it only been that morning? It seems like a lifetime away — but he can't bring himself to do it.

They have been defeated.

"Stiles is older than children taken in usually are," Jon starts, looking out the windows again, the shine of the moon making him look even paler and more somber, "They didn't take him because they believe they need him. They took him because they knew I would never fight against their terms with my only son there, at their mercy," he stops talking, scoffing at his own words, bitter and broken, "I couldn't even save my own son," he finishes, voice thick with angry tears and lost hopes.

Derek thinks of the woman, Nimueh, and her words to him, and against all odds, he, the General who lives for fighting, the man who risks everything for a win, is the one to have a little hope, to feel a little less like they lost everything.

"Maybe he will be the one to save us," he whispers, but he isn't sure Jon hears him.

In silence, they watch the sun rise in Kalee — the universe goes on and on, and all they can do is move on with it.