Clarification: Obi-Wan will remember most things, like a movie or book you've read and loved and cried through, but the specific details, unless something really jogs his memories, is fading. Is that more like a vision? Yes, it is, because look how much 35 year old Kenobi has changed things in the short time he was present, but the Force needs him to be able to live his life, not stuck second guessing a future that can never again be as it was.
Obi-Wan is fearful, however, that he will lose more than I will take from him.
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The Council of this Timeline
(I'm aware it doesn't fit Legends or canon perfectly, but I still like to have consistency within my own stories so here's the cheat sheet for those of you who are like me and enjoying knowing who's who in a story)
Start of this chapter: , 2. Yoda, 3. Mace, 4. Depa, 5. Ki-Adi Mundi, 6. Plo Koon, 7. Even Priel, 8. Eeth Koth, 9. Yarael Poof, 10. Poli Dapatian, 11. Saesee Tiin, 12. Jocasta Nu's empty seat
Removed: 1. Ki-Adi Mundi, 2. Even Preil, 3. Eeth Koth, and 4. Saesee Tiin
Retired: 5. Yaddle, 6. Poli Dapatian, 7. Yarael Poof.
Seven Council members turned over in about a week.
Soon to be Council: 1. Mace, 2. Sifo-Dyas, 3. Plo Koon, 4. Depa, 5. Jocasta Nu, 6. Dooku, 7. Qui-Gon Jinn, 8. Adi Gallia, 9. Kit Fisto, 10. Shaak Ti, 11. Feemor, 12. Yoda (who is planning on retiring when this group has settled in a year or two).
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KEYNOTE: Assume once we get to Mandalore everyone is speaking Mando'a.
Warning: Mentions of child abuse.
Chapter 5 - Foundlings
The flight hadn't been extensively long, and Obi-Wan spent the majority of the time meditating. There was something the Force was trying to tell him. In the safety of the ship, with only Master Feemor onboard, Obi-Wan felt comfortable enough to submerge himself in the Living Force that buoyed around him happily, chatting away in a voice Obi-Wan could make neither heads nor tails of.
By the time they landed, Obi-Wan was exhausted and disconcerted.
"Stay in the village," Feemor said as they walked down the ramp of their unmarked shuttle, "be careful not to reveal yourself in any way. Stewjon is the agricultural gem of the Mandalore system. Mandalorians come here to retire, but most of the population are people who want no part in war."
Obi-Wan nodded. He knew all this—in fact, he knew more about the Mandalore system than Feemor did. Despite what he had learned about the course his life would have taken, it still seemed funny to Obi-Wan that farming was in his blood.
Feemor squeezed his shoulder. He did not say their people's parting words, but Obi-Wan felt them in his heart, all the same.
The village centered around the port. They had electricity, droids, and oddly reminded him of Tatooine in that there almost seemed to be more droids than people.
That there were so few people here at Stewjon's bigger settlement, maybe a couple thousand, if that, told Obi-Wan that Mandalorians, as a larger culture, didn't give a kriff about farming.
Civilian clothing made him anonymous; however, he was still marked as by everyone he passed.
Obi-Wan went to the first diner he saw and took a seat at the bar. A part of him wanted to order something with high caffeine, or better yet, something with high alcohol content.
But he knew the urge came from a place that he wanted to prove he was older. The impulse, in and of itself, told him he was fading, his years from the future a mere memory, mere dreams.
He wanted to order a drink to prove he was older. His contrary nature that he didn't want to be a child.
But that was a child's wish.
So he ordered a blue shake, because if he was a child, he would not be a stupid one. He would not let his contrary nature best him.
The bartender smiled at him, a blonde man with eyes the same as his own, and said in Mando'a, "Hello, little outsider."
"Hello," he said.
"You look like us," the man noted, still speaking in Mando'a. "What's your name?"
"Obi-Wan Kenobi," he answered, hoping he did, and yet also hoping he didn't, have any relatives in this room. He didn't want family ties, but he did want to understand the culture he had been born into. Understand this strange corner of Mandalore that was unmarred by war.
Except the response his name had on the bar was immediate. Everyone went quiet and turned to look at him.
Obi-Wan turned to look at them, quiet, waiting. What about his name gave him away? Did they know he was a Force-sensitive.
The patrons, all in work clothes, turned to the one man in the corner who wasn't a farmer.
Obi-Wan tried not to tense as a fully-armoured man reached for his helmet. The glimpse of a grizzled face Obi-Wan caught was fierce.
The Cosmic Force told him to be afraid, while the Living Force cautioned him to stay.
The future possibilities and the present, ever at odds. Obi-Wan sort of regretted meditating with the Living Force, as he was forced to rely on his own judgement rather than follow two distinctly different pieces of Force-gifted advice.
The man stood and so did Obi-Wan. People hardly seemed to breathe as the Mandalorian crossed the room.
When he was standing before Obi-Wan, he said in Mando'a, "Child, come with me."
Obi-Wan followed, though maybe he shouldn't. Maybe this warrior would take him out to the middle of a field and execute him.
But aside from the Watch, Obi-Wan had never heard or seen a record of a Mandalorian targeting a child.
Children were, in a way, seen as a resource. Until the Great Clan Wars, bombing was rare for that reason. Raids and wars were fought either in space or with boats on the ground, metaphorically speaking, so each warrior could see who they were killing.
Kids were swept up by the victors, future warriors, who may or may not grow to be loyal.
There were, after all, reasons why civil war was such a near constant state in this system.
This particular Mandalorian, wearing grey padding with matte green armour, led Obi-Wan down along the river on the edge of the village. They stopped on a wooden bridge that crossed over where the river was thinnest.
The Mandalorian said nothing, and Obi-Wan didn't attempt to speak to him, content to observe.
The land here was green and blue. A little bit of Alderaan in these cursed lands. What would his path have been had he stayed? Had he been born in this village? Would the dam that slowed this mighty river have been among the largest things he had ever seen? Would he have learned to pilot, learning what it meant to soar through starlight?
Obi-Wan couldn't fathom it, staying in one place for the rest of his life.
If he was honest, it was one of his greatest fears in life. To be grounded, to only see one sunrise and one sunset till the end of his days.
Still, it was pleasant here. The breeze was cool and sweet, ruffling the leaves of the trees that framed the rice fields.
"You came back," the Mandalorian said finally.
"I don't plan on staying," Obi-Wan said mildly.
The Mandolorian took off his helmet. His dark brown eyes met Obi-Wan's gaze. "They're dead."
"Who?"
"Your parents. I killed them," he stated matter-of-factly.
Obi-Wan raised his eyebrows. It should have bothered him, and he was wary of this man, but he didn't remember his parents well enough to mourn them.
They were with the Force now and he already had a family.
The man's face darkened further. "You don't remember them, do you?"
Obi-Wan shook his head.
"Do you remember my son?" the man demanded.
Obi-Wan had a flash of being held, of an older boy running through a field with him.
"Do you remember my son, Oran Firre?"
Obi-Wan stilled, then nodded. "I remember an older boy, I thought he was my brother."
"He wasn't yours!" the man snapped at him. With a sneer, he turned, putting hand out to lean on the wooden rails. He spoke to the water, "I suppose you were young. You were born weak. Your parents were warriors of the highest calibre, but they left their clan when they joined the Watch. You do know who they are, don't you, boy?"
Obi-Wan nodded. "I know what the Death Watch are."
The man grunted, "Your father was getting on in years, too old to be easily accepted into a new clan. He was too proud, his reputation too bloody."
So much for farming after all, Obi-Wan thought wryly.
The man went on, "Your mother was much the same, and though she was younger, she should have been too old to have a child. You were as unexpected as you were unwanted."
"That's nice," Obi-Wan said dryly.
Then the man gave him such a look that he held his tongue.
"You were weak. Sickly, you were given the name Obi-Wan Kenobi, because like every Kenobi of Mandalorian birth, you were born to die. But you healed, you could hardly breathe as a babe, but as you aged, you got stronger, smarter. The village still believed you were cursed. You healed too well, you see."
Obi-Wan couldn't help but glare. "I won't apologize for surviving. Who are you, anyway?"
The man snarled at him silently, but Obi-Wan held his ground. If this man pulled a weapon on him, his best chance was close combat. He would be hurt, but he would rather take a beating than a blaster bolt. He had no lightsaber with him to keep him safe.
"I am Firre, the father of the boy who saved your worthless hide."
Obi-Wan said nothing. He waited for the attack, readying himself in the Force, yet the Force that cautioned him to be still. The Living and the Cosmic, no longer divided. That, at least, brought Obi-Wan comfort, and he focused on the Cosmic Force that imbued all things, that tied the galaxy together, and trusted that the Force had kept him alive for a purpose.
The Mandalorian didn't attack him, though. He merely sighed. "My son, Oran, took a shine to you. He was the one who taught you to walk, taught you our language. Your mother could hardly be bothered to feed you, much less anything else. She hated you for making her wait so long for you to pass on into the next life."
Obi-Wan frowned. "Why did she hate me?"
"Because you were weak," Firre said. "There was a reason your clansmen joined Death Watch. Your parents were proud people, legendary warriors in their own right. That clan would kill a babe in its crib if it was crippled or deformed."
"If I was so weak, why didn't she do that, then?" Obi-Wan demanded, disgusted at the notion that someone would kill their own babes for something so wholly out of their control.
It was a much needed reminder that Obi-Wan could read books all he liked, a people's culture was not a line of data.
"Because your mother gave birth on Stewjon, and that is not the way here. Your mother needed a medic to deliver you or she would have died. Like I said, she wasn't young. She would have been outcasted from this place had she killed an infant."
"But they thought I was cursed."
"You would have been given a new name on your third birthday," Firre stated.
"Why are you telling me all this?" Obi-Wan asked.
"Because I want you to understand that you being given to the Jettiese was my son's doing, not your parents. They were barbarians."
"Then I thank him for the life he gave me, for the family I have now," Obi-Wan said earnestly.
Firre looked back toward the water. "This is the Wan River. The One River. It is the longest and deepest on this planet, even with the dam stemming the flow." He looked back at Obi-Wan. "Your mother tried to reprimand you for something, and at the age of two, you defended yourself. With your magic."
Obi-Wan swallowed hard. "Did I hurt her?"
Firre met his gaze. "No, but it was all the reason she needed to take you to this river, and hold you beneath the surface."
Obi-Wan blinked fast, involuntarily looking at the water flowing beneath him.
He remembered a woman hissing at him, remembered being afraid, and he remembered drowning.
The water had been freezing, but his chest had burned. He had been so confused, terrified, nothing had made sense, and he never understood what he had done wrong.
"My son pushed her in and stole you from her," Firre continued. "He ran with you to the next village. He stashed you in an empty fishing crate with the communicator he used to send a plea to the Jedi to come and find you.
"He knew you better than your parents did. He must have known what you were before they did. He left you there and kept running. It was a gamble, you see. Would you starve to death before the Jettiese came? Would they even come for a Mandalorian? Would you freeze in the night in waterlogged clothes? Catch a fever?"
Obi-Wan's stomach roiled.
"Against all odds, you seemed to have survived, and the Jettiese apparently got to you before then."
Obi-Wan had the sickening feeling this story wasn't over.
"Your mother caught up to my son, and she tortured him before killing him. She never found you." His voice deepened as he continued, "But I found her, and her despicable husband that allowed all this. I executed them both for what they did." The man looked as if he would like to strangle Obi-Wan for the loss of his son as well. "You are never to forget what my son sacrificed for you, Obi-Wan Kenobi."
Obi-Wan shuddered, but bowed to the man. "I am grateful, and I am sorry for your loss. Oran didn't deserve his fate."
"No," Firre agreed, putting back on his helmet. "He did not. Your life was never worth his. You were born to die, and this galaxy would have been better if you had."
Obi-Wan flinched. There was so much hatred and sorrow behind those words from this still grieving father.
Obi-Wan's shoulders rounded with guilt.
His Masters at the Temple wouldn't have to worry about him finding attachments on his homeworld, but Obi-Wan knew he would need help processing this.
The horror he had been born in; a Mandalorian origin story fit for the holodramas.
It seemed Obi-Wan had been born for war after all.
A bringer of death, not peace.
He shook himself. My past does not define me, these people are not mine. I am a Jedi, and though our family is small, it is mighty.
The Great Clan Wars of the Mandalorian System did not belong to him.
Obi-Wan felt the shift in the Force, approaching darkness.
Not the work of the Sith, not a Jedi falling. But the simple violence of the galaxy. There was a dip in the Force, an echo, a prelude to the mass death to come before the Force accepted them home.
Obi-Wan looked up.
He recognized the missle, he had seen it used more than once, and he knew exactly what it would do when it landed. The shockwaves of a seismic charge could break durasteel. What it could do to human bones…
Anyone in range would die.
He watched it hit the dam, and the sound felt like a groundquake. Yet the water that broke like the first wave of a tsunami on a beach would not be what killed the villagers. The ripple shockwaves of the seismic stretched out, a shimmer of light before the water.
Firre shoved him off the bridge, and Obi-Wan tried to catch the man's hand, tried to pull him down with him. But the warrior took to the skies as Obi-Wan fell into the very river his mother had once attempted to drown him in.
He tried to hold his breath, but the impact of the fall knocked the wind out of him and he sucked in a mouth full of water and his younger body coughed.
He felt the water press on him, the river turned into a rapid as the dam rediscovered its natural course.
Blackness ate at his vision as he tried to find the sky.
He passed out before he found it.
The baby in his arms was crying and Feemor couldn't blame it. The little girl was half-starved and had been shoved into his arms as if it had been dirty laundry he had left behind.
The people of Stewjon did not kill children, thank the Force, but Force-sensitives were considered cursed. This baby had been declared a curse because of technology, ironically. Nine years ago, apparently a retired veteran had ordered a device that could take a midichlorian reading.
Feemor did not miss that the date matched the day Obi-Wan Kenobi had been retrieved from Stewjon. While Obi-Wan had been meditating in the cabin, Feemor had been reading up on Obi-Wan's file.
He had grown steadily more horrified by what he had found. Master Tyvokka and his Padawan, Plo Koon, had retrieved Obi-Wan, finding him half-starved and suffering from hypothermia, hidden away in an empty fishing crate. The list of his injuries revealed the darker side of Mandalorian culture.
Once Obi-Wan had arrived at the Temple, he had been treated for pneumonia. He had been afraid of the healers. Master Ali-Alann had needed to spend a full year with him before the youngling could be convinced he wasn't hated by everyone around, including the rest of his creche. From there, Obi-Wan had tried harder than any youngling in his generation to succeed in classes. He wasn't a genius nor the strongest in his class, but he would drive himself beyond endurance.
Master Ali-Alann had made a number of reports on the matter, not as punishment, but to draw a clear picture for whatever Master chose him that the boy would need continued care.
It actually explained to Feemor why Obi-Wan was so close to Quinlan. Typically, older students didn't have much interest in younger ones, but Quinlan Vos had had his own issues making friends.
The more Feemor had read, the more he felt that it had been a poor decision to bring Obi-Wan back to this planet.
Once he saw the bomb, Feemor knew they had all made a mistake. He had planned to do a health check on the infant back on his ship and report to the Council before retrieving Obi-Wan. But he didn't get that chance.
He managed to get the hatch closed in time, cradling the child to his chest as he just managed to strap them in. Their ship tumbled in the runoff from the dam, but they were far enough away that the shockwaves of the bomb went over them.
It took time until the ship finally came to a rest. The babe in his arms was screaming. He didn't have the concentration necessary to calm her as he fumbled with the buckle.
Even knowing the village was destroyed, even with the hungry infant in his arms, Feemor still climbed through the top hatch. The ship was rocked from the muddied water.
The destruction was complete.
Stay in the village.
There was no village, and with more gunships descending from the sky, Feemor knew he would have to leave or risk losing the baby he had come to retrieve.
Still, Feemor opened his Force shields wide, feeling the life Force on the planet. He felt more death than life, but he was a Master of the Living Force, and he extended his concentration.
He sent his search went so far and so wide that if he kept it for more than a few minutes he would have to face the repercussions of Force exhaustion.
Still, Feemor searched for the bright starlight that was Obi-Wan's.
"OBI-WAN!" Feemor shouted both aloud and into the Force.
All he received in turn was the sense of loss and the surety from the Force that Obi-Wan had moved on into the next life.
He folded around the wailing baby in his arms.
Devastation overcame Feemor. He didn't know how he would be able to tell Mace that Obi-Wan was never coming home.
Obi-Wan woke, soaked to the bone, and promptly threw up the Wan River.
"We have a survivor!" someone called in Mando'a.
A heavy hand pounded his back, causing Obi-Wan to brace, lest he fall back into the stony bank.
When the last of the river was purged from his lungs, he looked up and sighed in relief at the man he saw. "Cody."
The man blinked, and Obi-Wan realized in horror he had named the wrong clone. He flushed, reaching out with the Force, then sucking back his shields, shutting down his Force signature.
Jango Fett.
But that was impossible. Jango was de—
And then Obi-Wan remembered where he was.
When he was.
Then, finally, what had happened.
Obi-Wan scrambled to his feet, looking up the river to the village. Jango Fett caught him as he stumbled, his boots rolling over skittering river stones.
Obi-Wan had no words to express his fear. Still, he had to know. Breathing had been a challenge, speaking was much harder. His lips were numb with cold as he asked in Mando'a, "The village—What happened to the village?"
Jango looked at him with sympathy. "So far, you are the only survivor."
Obi-Wan felt his knees go weak, and if Jango hadn't been holding him up, he would have fallen. He began shaking, and it wasn't just because the air was chill and his clothes were completely soaked.
Master Feemor is dead.
Obi-Wan was too weak physically to fight the tears.
Qui-Gon would hurt because of him.
Again.
He felt like the child he aped as he asked the Force why?
Why send him back if he couldn't spare the people he loved pain?
But that was a child's question.
The Force was larger, the galaxy larger, there were larger matters than the people he loved.
"Nu kyr'adyc, shi taab'echaaj'la," Jango said.
Not gone, merely marching far away.
Obi-Wan nodded, the motion jerky and too fast.
"Your parents?" Jango asked.
Obi-Wan shook his head, and answered honestly, knowing that Jango would view him better for it. "My parents have been dead a long time. He was my brother."
"Do you have anyone else?" another warrior asked.
He shook his head. Not on this planet, anyway. Though, selfishly, he didn't want to return to the Temple and be the one to tell Qui-Gon this.
"Your name, adiik?" Jango asked.
Obi-Wan looked up at that familiar face, noting the five other Mandalorians, and answered, "Obi-Wan Kenobi."
The warriors all stopped, and one let out a low whistle. Jango scowled down at him, "Obi-Wan Kenobi?"
Obi-Wan shifted away from the man. "Yes, do you know me?"
"We know your parents hated you," one of the helmeted warriors said.
Obi-Wan realized that Jango had probably only taken his helmet off to not frighten him.
"Shut it, Maas," Jango growled.
"Why would you say that?" Obi-Wan asked even though he knew the truth of it.
Jango winced. "Your name. It means, No One from Nowhere."
Obi-Wan raised a brow, his likely purple lips twitching into an almost smile. The meaning of his name seemed rather poetic. Anakin certainly would have gotten a kick out of it. Smothering his flair of hysteria, he said, "It's my name, and I don't want my clan or family name, I didn't know them."
"You had a brother," Jango said.
"He wasn't blood," Obi-Wan said, then in the Mando'a phrase, "But kin is more than blood."
"Were you a cripple when you were young?" the one name Maas asked.
"Maas," Jango growled.
Obi-Wan shrugged. "I know I had a lot of allergies, and I've always been kind of small."
Jango knelt before him. "Did your guardians ever harm you?"
Obi-Wan's cold lips thinned and he said only, "They weren't my guardians."
It was a very Mandalorian backstory; a tale of blood, kin, betrayal, and more blood. Obi-Wan wished he could stop it, stop the war, create something more lasting than the extremist pacifist planet Satine had created.
It was admirable, but Obi-Wan knew in his blood that it was not something that could ever last.
And Mandalore needed something that could last. There were so many evils in the galaxy, how could it be so hard for them to find an outside enemy beyond the Republic rather than fighting each other?
Jango's hand tightened on Obi-Wan's shoulder. "Your people are gone, the Watch left none behind. Stewjon is now a contested territory, it is no longer safe here. We are the True Mandalorians, and you, Obi-Wan Kenobi, are welcome among us."
Even with his shields clamped shut to keep from slipping up and accidentally revealing himself, he felt the sincerity in Jango's words.
He felt too the push of the Force against him to accept the offer.
It was unlikely that a True Mandalorian would hurt him, but it was always good to remember that every Mandalorian was themselves an individual. And individuals were often hard to account for.
Still, the Force yelled at him and Obi-Wan saw the Force's intent, what it wanted from him.
The Force didn't want him to be a Jedi, to relive his life as he had. The Force needed him to go to Stewjon, to be here and reclaim his birthright as a Mandalorian.
His heart sank as he realized what he would have to do, that he would have to say goodbye to his home, his people.
Obi-Wan wanted Mandalore to find peace, and the Force needed him to be here.
He wondered how much Jango Fett would hate that the reason Obi-Wan would choose the way of a Mandalorian was because of his mandate as a Jedi Knight.
Obi-Wan bowed his head. "Thank you, Jango."
Jango smiled. "You'll do alright, ad'ika." He stood, putting his helmet back on. "Chakraborty, get him back to the ship. We'll do a final sweep to see if any of the Watch do anything more than simply destroy."
A warrior dressed in silver armour over red padding touched Obi-Wan's back, leading him away to his new life.
His new path.
He wouldn't contact the Order, it was better they believed him dead. If they came for him, the Mandalorians would likely shoot before hearing out his reasons. Besides, this was where the Force wanted him. For too long the Jedi as a whole had ignored the bidding of the Force.
Obi-Wan would be deaf no longer.
As he walked onto the shuttle, he did hesitate, just a step.
Quin would be distraught when news of his death reached the Temple.
Obi-Wan turned to watch as one of the two transports lifted him up. The place where the village had been was now a smouldering lake, the river darkened by the debri. If he hadn't known there was a settlement there, it might have looked like a mere landslide.
Obi-Wan's heart ached as they rose higher, a part of him breaking as he accepted this new path, as he realized how short-lived his two months of peace had lasted.
But one could not live in the past forever.
The irony was not lost on him.
Again Obi-Wan thought of Quinlan. He shut his eyes and whispered into the Force, I'm sorry.
But telling the Jedi Order would have consequences. He knew how protective the True Mandalorians were, and he knew that even if he formally left the Order, as an actual minor, he would have to go through some sort of legal adoption process.
That would demand the Mandalorians and Jedi to meet, which typically didn't end well, even if everyone had good intentions.
Besides, telling Quinlan he was alive might very well end up being pointless.
Obi-Wan was going back into another civil war.
People died in war, and the chances of him dying as a Mandalorian were higher than as a Jedi.
Because in Mandalore, the war never truly ended.
AN: DUN, DUN, DUN! Next chapter has many tears and comfort :D Thoughts and feedback on this chapter?