Obi-Wan's birth clan joined Death Watch, but his parents were basically like, 'I agree with the Watch but I'm too old and too pissy to take orders from a new faction.' Having a baby in retirement was seriously not a part of their plans.
A lot of the themes I write about come from the pain I see in my communities. I had a student this year who shared her family being ripped apart and being taken from her home, forced to live with blood relatives who didn't want her, making her feel like a burden for existing. It really breaks my heart how many people feel unloved in their lives. In fantasy we can face our worst fears and murder them, honoury survival, bravery, and hope that we can become the best versions of ourselves and that by raising others up, we can change the world, or galaxy ;)
To all the reader's who hated Oran's father, Firre, for being an a-hole, he's dead now. He flew toward the village, which is why Obi-Wan tried pulling him down too. Firre went back because his wife was there, she's dead too. It wasn't a logical reaction, but I think Firre made it clear he doesn't have a healthy relation with his emotions, though considering how and why his son was murdered, Firre had legitimate reasons for the type of bitter man he became.
If Obi-Wan hadn't been pushed into the river he would have died.
REMINDER: Everyone is thinking and speaking in Mando'a.
KEYnote: This chapter overlaps date wise a bit with last one.
Chapter 7 - What's in a Name?
Jango Fett woke up surrounded by warmth. He kept still, not because he thought he was in danger, simply trying to identify why he felt, for a lack of a better description, cozy. He kept his ship at minimum heat, his blacks regulating his temperature well enough.
As Jango blinked awake, he realized he was wrapped around the main source of the warmth.
Which was when he remembered the Stewjoni foundling. Jango let out a breath, shifting to get out of the covers. But the moment he moved, the child shifted to follow him, tucking himself back into Jango's side.
He huffed, carding his fingers through the boy's fussy hair, he must have just received a haircut as the soft hair was even despite how it spiked upward. The boy was small, too small for an eleven year old.
But he was brave.
The way he had defended his own name…
Obi-Wan Kenobi.
Jango had never met a Kenobi, it was an ancient name, it was a cursed name. Nowhere having a second meaning; no future.
No one.
No life.
The use of that name was an ancient tradition that had fallen out of practice. Stillborns and sickly children were buried with it, their families and clans dignifying a life lost with a name, but too ashamed to give them their own. It came from a tradition where only warrior children were honoured, wanted. The weak were culled and might made right.
Traditions of adoption came from that sinful reality. Fighting for youths that could supplement clans because so many children couldn't keep up with the demands of training. Well, that and the high mortality of parents who were either fighting in wars or caught in the crossfire.
It wasn't the aspect of Mandalorian history Jango was particularly proud of though his buir had raised him to never shy away from history.
The galaxy was a cruel place, you either accepted that and worked with it or it would eventually kill you.
Jango sighed, pulling himself out of bed.
Obi-Wan made a protesting sound, but Jango gently tucked him back in, grabbing the blanket off his own bunk to make up for some of the lost warmth. Obi-Wan curled into a ball, but settled in to sleeping a little longer, his face peaceful.
Jango smiled, he didn't think he would have adopted a child in his twenties, but he supposed Jaster had been about his age when he adopted Jango.
Although, the adoption of this little Stewjoni wasn't formalized yet, one, because Obi-Wan had yet to agree to it, and two, Jango was a bit suspicious.
Obi-Wan had used his name without an introduction. He supposed it was possible one of his clan members had used his name even if Jango himself could not recall it.
Quietly and quickly, Jango strapped on his beskar, leaving his helmet behind. He went to the kitchenette to reheat soup, it wasn't the ideal breakfast food, but he wanted to make sure Obi-Wan was getting warm fluids.
The boy had almost drowned after all.
"Good morning."
Jango jumped, spinning to find the small boy rubbing the sleep from his eyes.
Kriff the boy was quiet.
"Morning, Obi'ika," Jango said, motioning for him to take a seat at the booth table.
Obi-Wan slid into the booth and thanked him as Jango placed the bowl of soup in front of him.
Good, the boy had manners.
"Have you ever been to Mandalore proper?" Jango asked.
Obi-Wan nodded in answer, but focused on his soup, clearly still tired and grieving. Which was to be expected. Last night, Jango had found him tossing and turning. He had managed to kick off his blankets and had been sweating as he battled with nightmares.
It hurt Jango's heart, and he had simply pulled the boy into his arms to lay down with him. It had worked, but Jango was at a loss as to what to say now to make him feel better.
He tried, "Do you know who the current Mandalore is?"
Obi-Wan frowned, his brows pinching together, and he looked up at Jango with grey eyes, "Jaster Mereel?"
He sounded uncertain but Jango nodded, "Yes, and he's my buir. You will meet him today."
Obi-Wan smiled, but it didn't reach his eyes and he didn't sound like a child when he said, "I'm honoured."
Jango smothered a frown and awkward silence filled the space between them. Maybe he wasn't cut out for this.
"Can I get you anything else?" Jango asked.
Obi-Wan bit his lip, fiddling with the spoon in his empty bowl.
"Speak, Obi'ika," Jango commanded.
Obi-Wan sighed, again, watching Jango with careful grey eyes, "Do you have any tea?"
"Tea?" Jango repeated, a bit disgusted, the child was only eleven!
It was an on going feud within their clan which was better tea or caf. Caf won by a long shot but there had been a growing conversion and weirdos like Maas who enjoyed both.
Despicable.
Obi'ika ducked his head, "Never mind, I'm sorry-"
Jango shook his head, "Don't apologize." He stood collecting the bowls, "Maas's father, Agni, is a big tea drinker, we all have tea in stock. The man is a menace without it. He won't drink caf."
I'm just shocked an adiik likes the stuff. And I don't want him siding with Agni of all people on day two.
"How big is your clan?" Obi-Wan asked as he settled in.
"The True Mandalorians is an organization, a few hundred members and many thousands who sympathize with us. But our clan consists of twenty members. Myles, Chakraborty, and Maas you met last night. Jaster Mereel, of course. Chakraborty has three little sisters, little devils, frankly. Agni and his wife, Hallas. Sinna, she's a spitfire in her late teens. I think you'll like Micah, he's closer to Sinna's age than yours but I haven't met anyone who can't get along with him. He's deaf but he has quite the sense of humour. The rest are bounty hunters, like myself, who rarely come back to this system, they work in the Outer Rim, unlike me, almost exclusively. Free spirits the lot of them."
He hoped the boy would open up if he did.
"Are you at war with the Watch or do they just attack randomly?" Obi-Wan asked too seriously.
Janga grimaced, "I'm sure you've heard the Duke's line was wiped out this year, thanks to Death Watch. The Vizsla clan is vying for that. Our clan is standing between them and the throne as we try to get some sort of vote organized. We are allied with the Kryzes and several others, but I wouldn't say things have been going smoothly."
"Mandalore is at war," Obi-Wan said dully as Jango heated up the water.
Jango huffed a laugh, "Only a Stewjoni would be surprised by that. There have been a number of skirmages, terrorist attacks like the one you survived. Yes, it is building, exculating, I wouldn't call it full out war."
"Yet," Obi'ika grossed.
Jango chuckled, "You'll get along with Jessie just fine."
"Jessie?"
"Jaster, he has more nicknames than anyone save for the legend himself knows."
Obi'ika nodded.
Jango brewed the tea, "I don't have any sugar or creams."
"I like it black."
Jango refrained from remarking on that. He set the hot mug in front of Obi-Wan who immediately clung to it as if it was the only hand hold in a turbulent sea.
He put a hand on the ad'ika's shoulder, "You're not alone, Obi'ika."
Stormy eyes looked up at him and Jango had rarely seen anyone look so completely lost.
Darth Plagueis refrained from growling, just barely.
The Jedi Council had flipped over night.
Yoda had retired.
Everything, absolutely everything was being ruined.
Mace Windu had even applied for the Coruscant Senator seat, and the votes were flooding in direction, the free advertisement came from it being the first time in a thousand years a Jedi had applied for a public office. Free, which meant the Master Jedi could run with literally no funding.
Typically, this would spell disaster for the Jedi, but Plagueis had been keeping tabs on the Order for decades, Mace Windu was one of the ones that wouldn't be corruptible. Perhaps misled but never corrupt.
Aside from the Chancellor, the Coruscanti Senatorial seat was on of the most powerful in the Republic, mainly, because the Senator also acted as governor of the city, the entire city, which amounted to the entire planet down to its core.
The Jedi would have complete unhindered access to travel and trade logs, the policing, any protests being held.
If the Jedi wished to put a wrench into the works corruption, this would be the first step. And there was little Republic, no one had the right to complain the Jedi were getting involved when the Jedi lived on the planet and they had been more and more involved in politics thanks to Sith manipulations.
Running for public office through a democratic vote was more of an issue for the Order's silly self-imposed rules, not anything against Republic law.
Darth Sidious hissed, "Who are Sephjet Josall and Roth-Del Masona?"
"Two Master Jedi who have served most of their terms alongside and for the Jedi Corps," Plagueis answered, angered because that wasn't information he had known, he had to research them because he had never heard of them before.
In addition to the two unremarkable Master Jedi, they had appointed three Junior Knights, Kit Fisto, Adi Gallia, and Shaak Ti. Those three he had at least heard of, but Plagueis hadn't imagined they would be players for another decade at least.
Sifo-Dyas, Dooku, Jocasta Nu were three formable Masters that Plagueis had an in with. They had been easy to manipulate, however, if they were taken seriously as they were now the elders on the Council, their belief that the Sith line of Bane had continued could turn from an assist to a serious problem.
And then there were the three actual problems, Mace Windu, Depa Billaba and Qui-Gon Kriffing Jinn.
"Master, how much of our plans does this change?" Sidious asked.
Darth Plagueis let out a long sigh before he answered, "All of it. This changes everything."
Worse, with only the two of them, there was little they could do without leaving a trail back to them.
It seemed the search for immortality was the only clear path forward.
Because this was Mandalore, Obi-Wan had been on the planet for exactly five minutes before something blew up.
Not at war my sheb! He thought as he looked for a weapon.
"Get back in the ship, Obi'ika!" Jango called to him before darting into the facility.
Obi-Wan did dart back into the ship, but he didn't stay there.
He found a sniper rifle that was almost taller than he was. Darting back out into the hanger, he took stock of his surroundings. A warehouse building in a shipyard.
"Get back to the ship, farm boy!" Myles yelled at him, spotting him as crouched behind a barrier.
Of course, in shouting out to him, the di'kut had given away Obi-Wan's location. He dropped to a knee, sighting down the line of the rifle just as Qui-Gon had taught him. Obi-Wan learned to shoot a blaster on Melida/Daan, but sniping was a different skill, one Obi-Wan had mastered on this very planet.
A barren world of smoke, fire, and blood.
Sniping was essential, in Obi-Wan's opinion, when it came to fighting Mandalorians who wore armour that defended against everything but bombs.
He was thankful for all the sparing he had down with Quin over the last two months. He might not be great at his katas, but he had adjusted for the most part with his hand to eye coordination.
He took out the one terrorist who had been aiming at him with a bolt to the armpit he offered up while aiming at him in turn. Obi-Wan pulled the trigger faster and his aim was more accurate. The Watch member's last shot went wide as he fell and Obi-Wan didn't fight the kickback that jerked him as he looked to the next warrior who was jumping over the burrior to get a clear shot at Myles. Myles who had yet to move who was presumably still gaping at Obi-Wan from under his helmet.
Obi-Wan pulled the trigger twice, the first low toward the thigh gap, and the second shot he anticipated the kick back, allowing the rifle to rise, he merely lined the path with where the warrior's neck was revealed as he collapsed over the pain in his leg.
Sufiicit it to say, the man didn't live long enough to worry overly much about his groin.
He fell lifeless beside Myles who jerked back in surprise.
Their deaths made a faint impression in the Force Obi-Wan was all too familiar with.
"I'm not a farmer!" Obi-Wan called, before sprinting toward the wall Jango had gone to.
Obi-Wan was careful not to use the Force to aid him. Slowing himself down to strap the rifle over his back and climb rather than jumping into the empty vent no adult human, least of all an armoured one, could fit through. He crawled through air vents, allowing his shields to open so he could find Jango.
Jango, who had the Force about, fated to play a part in whatever future the Force had planned, be it dark and light.
Obi-Wan found him in a stand off against thirty other warriors and about fifty droids.
There were twelve Mandos in his view that were on their side. Considering one of them was Jango Fett and another, a large man who was signing orders, was likely Jaster Mereel, those weren't bad odds.
Seriously though, how did this not constitute a war?
Obi-Wan climbed the ceiling rafters, found a main support beam that had some cover on almost all sides and was thick enough to withstand blaster bolts and laid down on his stomach.
Mandalorian armour made for annoying targets. He kept his shots infrequent, making it harder for anyone to locate him, all too aware of small missiles.
Speaking of which, Obi-Wan saw someone hold out his arm toward Jango.
Obi-Wan shot the enemy Mando in the head.
The beskar prevented that from being a death blow, but rifles had more impact than a hand held blaster. The warrior he hit staggered.
Jango stepped in close, put his blaster under the concussed man's chin and fired.
From there, the True Mandalorians were clearly on the winning side. Obi-Wan began firing with more frequency at the droids. He ran out of charge midway through the skirmish, and Obi-Wan pulled one of the charges he had put on his beltt.
Qui-Gon hadn't taught him that, it's something he picked up from Cody.
Cody basically went into all battles with a constant stream of pinpointed fire, using Obi-Wan as a lightsaber shield. It had made for a good partnership.
One of the Watch finally spotted Obi-Wan and chucked a grenade at him.
Ordinarily, Obi-Wan would have laughed at that, grenades had a face value of being useful against Jedi seeing as a lightsaber was ill defense any type of thing that exploded, but hand grenades were the size of stones and radiated in the Force with loud and glaring potential energy.
One could kill a Jedi with a handheld bomb, sure. Bring the building down on their heads, shrapnel and fire if they didn't act on the advance warning soon enough, however, it was never a 'surprise' attack.
Much like throwing a screaming turtleduck at a normal person, it was slow, loud, and really hard to miss.
But Obi-Wan didn't need a Force push when he had a rifle. Especially this delightful rifle that was far more expensive and well built than anything they had in the GAR.
It generally took a lot to impress Obi-Wan, something he had never shared with his troops when they got the mass factory built models that had cheap materials and never lasted long no matter how any of the vod'e kept them cared for.
Obi-Wan had actually bought upgraded parts with what savings he had from his alliances to upgrade Cody's and Rex's rifles.
Obi-Wan had done it while they were sleeping and he was pretty sure they accounted the new parts to Anakin's hibatul habit of tinkering.
To be fair, Anakin had restored and salavged a number of weapons, but thanks to Obi-Wan's promotions he could afford parts Anakin couldn't.
Obi-Wan had never cared about money until he saw the plostriod armour the clones wore.
Obi-Wan had cared then, because their lives had been dictated by it and the Order that worked on charity and the scraps of the Senate's budget had had no capital or political power to help them, save for entering the war themselves to prevent the clones for being further brutalized by Corrillian scum that seemed to breed apathy in conflict in their academies.
Obi-Wan was drawn from his thoughts from the shot he fired.
Hand grenade plus rifle bolt created a spectacle explosion, one that had the warriors below taking cover. Obi-Wan took the time to hit the still targets as the battle droids recalibrated, far less sophisticated than the separatists models. Which was truly a pathetic bar to cross, and there were no droids left when the True Mandalorians rallied.
Obi-Wan began working his way back the way he had come, focusing on stealth and not using the Force to skip over the distances.
Death Watch tended to get desperate when they were losing and he didn't want to be near the ceiling if they pulled a classic 'bomb your way out.'
Again, he marveled at being able to fit through the vents.
The hanger was clear save for broken droids and dead bodies. Obi-Wan was too accustomed to war to stop himself from checking with the Force.
It was safe, which was good because his shoulders ached as if they had been repeatedly bludgeoned with a metal fist, which he supposed, in a way they had been.
His hands felt bruised, but he had enough callouses from lightsaber practice to keep from any blisters forming.
He felt tired, his endurance not what he was used to. Of course, he had almost drowned yesterday. His body was not happy of its recent treatment he had put it through.
Once he was back on Jango's ship, he went to the kitchenette and made himself a cup of tea as he waited for the 'adults.'
He didn't dare meditate, but he did acknowledge the lives he had taken today, grateful that on that list wasn't his men.
Weren't his men that had been enslaved by the Republic and as trapped in the war as the Jedi were.
It made things easier, and a small part of him that he wasn't ready to look at too hard, was pleased at the damage he'd done.
He had been born for war; and he was good at it.
Jango did a head count, they hadn't lost anyone, they hadn't even sustained any major injuries.
But Jango did the headcount thrice and came up short.
His buir was the one to voice it though as he did the mental math, "Who was our sniper?"
"The foundling," Myrles said.
Jango spun on him, "He was supposed to stay on the ship!"
Maas laughed, "Your ad is no good at taking orders, but he has one hell of an aim."
Jango cursed, he couldn't deny the help had ended the fight far earlier than expected, but the boy was eleven years old.
"Foundling?" Jaster asked.
"Jango claimed him," Maas informed the head of their clan.
Jango couldn't properly glare through his visor, but Maas seemed to get the message because he shut his trap.
Myles powered his jetpack, and called back down, "He went back through the vents."
"Vents?" Jaster asked, "How young is this kid?"
"Eleven," Chakraborty said, "a small eleven."
Jango motioned them to follow as they made it back to the hanger and Jaster kept pace with him.
"Where did you find a sniper foundling?" Agni asked from behind him.
"Stewjon, the sole survivor from yesterday's attack," Jango answered.
"If he is from one of the Death Watch clans," Jaster remarked, "he won't be aligned with them anymore after that betrayal."
Jango sighed, "His past is complicated from what little I understand, but he lost everything. An older brother who seems to be his only true kin."
Jaster nodded mutely.
The hangar was clear.
"Obi'ika!" Jango called as they walked onto the ship.
"Obi?" Agni and Jaster asked together.
"Here!" a young voice called.
The boy's Mando'a was formal, more formal than he would expect from a Stewjoni, but the accent was odd enough to make him believe he had learned from reading books rather than his guardians who apparently had despised him since birth.
They found the ad'ika in the kitchenette, Jango's second favourite rifle on the table that appeared bigger than his ad'ika and a cup of tea in his hand.
Agni took off his helmet, his silver hair falling to his shoulders, his dark eyes sparkling, "Ha! A tea drinker! Welcome to the clan, ad'ika. The tea tally pulls ahead."
"You can't say the people who like both count on your side and not ours," Myles argued.
Jango sighed, taking off his own helmet along with the others who had followed on board, Maas, Myles, and Chakraborty.
Jaster's found smile died on introduction.
"Buir," Jango began, "this is Obi-Wan Kenobi-"
"What?" Jaster spat before demanding of the foundling, "Who the hell named you that?"
Obi'ika raised a brow, his grey eyes darkened to the shade of durasteel. He sipped his tea in a distinctly non-childish manner before he answered politely, "My parents."
Maas and Myles choked as they attempted to stifle their laughter.
Buir wasn't exactly known for his warm personality and sense of humour, and it was all Jango could do to keep from snapping at Obi-Wan for being disrespectful, but this moment was between the Mando'alor and the new clansman entering their line.
"You need a new one," Jaster stated.
"No," Obi-Wan said and Jango couldn't read him. Where does an adiik his age learn a sabacc face like that?He didn't even seem unsettled as he met Jaster's gaze.
"Do you know what it means?" Jaster pressed.
"I know it means people will underestimate me," Obi-Wan said then added, "Also, it's unique."
"Yeah," Myles muttered, "for the living."
Agni swatted the brunette upside the back of his head.
Jaster glared down at the child.
Obi'ika took the quiet moment to take another sip from his tea, completely unbothered by a look that would have had most fully seasoned warriors quaking in their boots.
Jaster crossed his arms, looming over the table, the rifle between them.
Jango noted one of the charges was plugged into his specialized generator he kept in each room of his ship. Which told him his ad'ika wasn't just familiar weapons but intelligent.
But then he had already known that when he realized who the sniper had to have been. He position he haf chosen of taking a shielded higher ground and the way he had spaced the bolts so it didn't draw a straight line to him. Most would have assumed they were covered by the chaos of an open battle. Even where he had aimed, and finally, while he hadn't listened to stay with the ship, he left when he was no longer needed and backed away from any possible traps.
Yes, his ad'ika was a clever one.
They all waited for either Jaster or Obi-Wan to break the moment.
But Jaster was as stubborn as they came as he continued to glare down at the foundling until it was somewhat absurd.
Obi'ika didn't break. He went so far as to finish his tea. He left the empty mug on the table and pulled up his legs. Hugging himself, he rested his chin on his knees, looking up at Jaster with stormy eyes and a peaceful expression.
Jango decided right then and there that whatever his reservations, whatever Obi'ika's past, the foundling was his son. Obi-Wan had earned his place here, helping without being asked and showing unwarranted bravery.
While it would be interesting to see who was more stubborn, Jango was pretty sure Obi'ika was not a long way from falling asleep. Even if he wasn't, Jango was responsible for his health and this was enough excitement for the day.
"Where did you learn to use a rifle like that?" Jango asked, freeing Jaster from his childish standoff.
"I told you," Obi'ika said, "I've been to Mandalore proper before."
"And who were you shooting before now?" Jaster asked.
Obi'ika stared up at him, then shrugged, Jango caught the wince of pain that gesture caused him. "I don't know, I was younger than I am now."
Jango grimaced, they trained their children early, but that was different than forcing them to participate in the wars. Eleven was young, anything before that was criminal.
Sometimes, it wasn't an option to keep them safe, but as his name was Obi-Wan Kenobi, Jango wasn't siding with the idea that he'd hadn't had a happy childhood where his guardians kept him shelteted.
Jaster let out a breath, "Fair enough."
That young, Obi'ika's kills were not on his head. By their laws, he was considered a weapon not a warrior, no matter how true the latter might be.
"How hurt are you?" Jango asked, stepping closer to him.
"I'm okay," Obi-Wan shuffled to the side, giving him room to sit.
Jango took the offered seat, pleased that Obi'ika would let him treat his injuries.
"That weapon is as big as you are," Jango said as he reached for his collar, but he stilled when Obi'ika tensed, glancing up at the other men staring down at him.
Jango got the message, Obi'ika was okay with him checking him over, but not for an audience. Jango brushed his fingers through the child's hair and some of the tension eased from him.
Jango asked him, "Obi'ika would you like to stay with me, us, or would you like to find another home?"
The expression the child wore was both too old and too vulnerable. "I would like to stay," he said quietly, his voice going softer, "please."
Jango rested his hand on the back of his ad'ika's head and lowered his own until their the foreheads touched, "Ni kyr'tayl gai sa'ad, -Obi-Wan Kenobi."
I know your name as my child, -Obi-Wan Kenobi.
Obi-Wan closed his eyes, his breath leaving him in a long exhalation as if long held.
Suddenly, Jango felt that the name fit him, this little warrior who held sorrows beyond his years.
Obi-Wan Kenobi, an ancient name that defied expectation, that defied the fate of blood.
No One from Nowhere, or One Who Needs No Name Who Belongs to No Place.
Until now, Obi'ika belonged here with them now.
"So it is done," Jaster said, "Welcome home, Obi'ika."
The others said their own words of acceptance.
Jango straighted, pulling away from his son, which allowed Obi-Wan room to bow his head to Jessie and the others.
He did so without speaking.
Another signal he was tired, or more likely, exhausted.
"Get lost," Jango told his clansmen.
Jessie let out a short burst of laughter, "I hope, Obi'ika, you have better manners than your buir, because he won't be able to teach you any."
"Go," Jango barked.
His buir, stepped toward them, bending to press his forehead to Jango's but thankfully, he stepped back not pushing Obi'ika who had tucked himself against Jango's side.
"Rest well, verd'ika," Jaster bestowed to his bu'ad, his grandson. Signing to the others to leave with him.
Jaster hit the close to the hatch as he left.
"Let me see your shoulders," Jango said, tugging at the collar, as the shirt was his, therefore, it was several sizes too big. Jango was able to see the bruising already beginning to show on his pale skin. There was no skin breakage however.
Jango made to stand up, "I have some cold compresses."
But Obi'ika caught his hand before he could step away, "Vor entye."
Jango felt his expression softened and he gently squeezed his fingers, "No, debt, ner ad'ika. There is no debt between us. You are aliit and you belong here."
Obi-Wan nodded, still looking strangely lost as if despite being adopted he didn't believe himself wanted.
All children should be wanted. Never mind that they had just walked away from another Death Watch trap without a single casualty or major injuries, in part, due to Obi-Wan's actions this day.
Jango reached back down for him, moving slow so he didn't startle this little warrior. Obi'ika reached up to him in answer, wrapping his small arms around Jango's neck as he lifted him and walked them back to their bunks.
"Ner verd'ika," Jango told him, his little warrior, the words were both an endearment and an earned honour.
Obi'ika finally allowed himself to relax, trusting Jango to guard him.
There was no greater honour.
Obi-Wan woke, shivering, cold, and alone.
Instinctively he reached out in the Force, then closed the connection down almost immediately as he identified the man he was sharing a room with.
Remembering a rain slick fight where it had taken everything he had not to use lethal tactics to keep up with the Mandalorian who had strangled five Jedi to death with his bare hands.
It had been a chancy game to play, trying to take him in alive. Mace hadn't taken that chance, while Obi-Wan still wished to know why the man who hated Jedi had helped make an army for them?
It wasn't a question he could hold onto at present.
His heart accelerated as he held back from realeasing his panic into the Force. It took longer than it should have for him to remember Jango acknowledging him as a son. That memory calmed him, the man had been sincere, and despite himself, Obi-Wan had felt safe in his arms even if he knew he shouldn't trust it.
The short burst of adrenaline and small panic attack left him colder, and without leaning into the Force, the room felt too dark, a blindness of senses that chafed at his very soul.
He wanted to whine, he wanted to give in and submerge himself in that familiar presence, within the oneness of the galaxy, a place where he belonged.
Where everyone belonged.
But if he couldn't stop himself from reaching for it when no one was watching, if he got hurt, and surely there would be at some point get hurt on this cursed planet, he might do something unfortunate.
His own mother had tried to kill him, even Oran hadn't dared take him back to his family even though Firre seemed to hate the Watch. Sure, instinctively Firre had saved him by pushing him into the river, but Obi-Wan had felt his inner conflict. His pain either so deep he would lash out or his hatred for Force sensitives, his fear of them, enough that he would hurt a minor.
And as a minor, Obi-Wan would have to learn to keep an iron grip on his gifts. He was small enough to make them believe that it was some physical weakness that had turned his parents against him.
But he just couldn't count on their reactions to him being Force sensitive. He was even more terrified that they would figure out his past with the Jedi.
He hoped like hell the Order had assumed he was dead, that no one was looking for him. At the very least, he knew it was unlikely his death would be publicly released, the Order did not appreciate outside speculation on their weaknesses.
The New Mandalorians had accepted Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon. They had gone so far as to ask for their help in keeping Satine safe, however, the New Mandalorians were radicals whether they had been allies once with the True Mandalorians didn't matter when asking for Jetii aid was a near unprecedented action to take.
Obi-Wan held his hand over his mouth to stop himself from screaming or letting out a noise.
This was so stupid, why had he done this to himself? It was one thing to choose a life outside the Order, it was quite another to keep up this big of a lie for the rest of his natural life.
To go back to war in hiding.
Yet Quin had done it, that was the literal job description of a Shadow. But even Shadows didn't kark with the Mandalore system.
This was asinine. He should leave. Even Shadows didn't have to cut themselves off from the Force.
He cracked his shields a tad, and visions hit him.
Visions that had once been memories.
Why was he doing this? Because it seemed the fate of the galaxy depended on it. Obi-Wan lowered his hand from his face, keeping his breaths rather than gasping like a fish beached on a desert dune.
The Mandalore system was his place of birth, his heritage, his culture, he had to stop thinking of himself as an outsider. He cared about these crazy people who had more in common with the Jedi Order than they would ever accept.
He wasn't giving up on being who he was here, he was simply going to become a different version of himself, a version that in his old life he had walked away from.
Mandalore had left its mark on, on his heart and soul.
He had walked away from Satine, partially because he had fundamentally disagreed with her. They had brought Mandalore to peace at a cost that was unfathomable, though the Duchess led her people into a modern age.
But the planet had remained barren, their warriors exiled to the Concordia moon, which inevitably turned Death Watch loose on the rest of the galaxy. Obi-Wan didn't believe, no matter how hard Satine held onto her utopian ideas, that Mandalore could remain neutral.
The Force flashed another vision into his mind, of Satine's people calling for her head, of the sky falling against the horizon, into another war with entire generations who had been shielded from such violence and would be slaughtered crippled as they were.
Satine in her extremism had damned them. As teens, her passion had been a beautiful pure flame, but Obi-Wan had kept track over the years, the love he had for her had been systematically torn apart by the bitter realization of what she was doing to her people.
His people.
The Order, the Republic, and Mandalore, all three were destined for civil war, one way or another. If Obi-Wan could help the True Mandalorians triumph, if it was Jaster Mereel who sat on the throne, he would make the Mandalore system a power to be reckoned with.
Perhaps inspiring the Jedi to do likewise, perhaps pushing the Republic to invest in having a citizen fed army not a slave one.
It was the one dark truth Obi-Wan had come to realize from Qui-Gon's death at Sith hands, the Sith had forced the Jedi to adapt. Sometimes one's enemies were as important as their allies.
The thought tasted acrid on the back of his tongue, bitterness overwhelmed him and he was drowning in emotions again.
He felt like crying, his thoughts no longer matching the body he inhabited, the child he was becoming. He was no longer an adult, however mature his thought processes were, emotionally he felt…
He felt; everything felt personal, he felt unnaturally vulnerable and small, and the Force was…
The Force was wild within him, all the techniques he had mastered through years of perseverance and meditation stripped away as if he were having to learn to walk again after a spinal injury.
He knew he knew how to walk, but in order for his body and spirit to learn he needed to reteach it. Only it would be more difficult, knowing what a thing should be like and having it tauntingly out of his reach.
He felt like crying because he would have no Master to help him and no opportunity to practice, secrecy being paramount. He was lost from his people.
He tried to tell himself if he were playing Shadow with the Sith, which maybe he was considering how little they knew of the supposedly Dead Order, he would have to hide his abilities as well.
He tried telling himself that a rifle was a ranged weapon and therefore as practical to a Jedi as a lightsaber. Tried to tell himself that training to be a Mandalorian warrior without the aid of the Force would make him more than he had been. That he would be equal to any Knight in the Order because Jango Fett was every bit their equal. He tried to remind himself as dark as Mandalorian life could be, they also loved fiercely. More openly than the Jedi, true, but the principle of training their young to be warriors, in protecting them above any other objective was the Way.
It was the same for the Jedi even if the Order to an outsider's perspective seemed cold, their minimalist lifestyles its own type of vanity.
It wasn't vanity, it was valuing life. To value the Force was a practice of valuing life in all its vast variety. For the Force was created by all living things and within the Force all was one.
Obi-Wan settled a little, after reciting those mantras helped. The old philosophies that he had always fallen back on, even when he was small. He remembered those were words he had spoken in Basic. Master Ali-Alann had shown him what it meant to be loved and safe, and had been the first to show the wider reality of the Force. The Force had become his home.
Now the Force had brought him here, to this new life, to this new path. Even if the True Mandalorians weren't the Jedi, he knew that the codes they lived by were as valid as the Jedi philosophies.
Philosophies that did, and quite often, disagree with each other.
Just as Mandalore's constant identity crisis directly contrasted with the fierce and possessive love they had for their children.
And just like the Jedi, being Mandalorian went beyond blood.
Obi-Wan slipped out of bed as quietly as he was able. He had about all he could handle of his own identity crisis. He needed sleep, his body was demanding rest.
His emotions had wrung him out that he might do something seriously irrational if he kept poking at the Force and his own nightmares. Also, insomnia was not a habit he wanted to pick back up.
He needed help.
His hands fisted on the durasteel grate as he wondered how mad Jango would be if Obi-Wan woke him up?
Did he really feel so spooked, was he really so cold that he couldn't tough it out?
The Force jabbed at his head, as if threatening a headache.
Obi-Wan scowled, kriff. He had once told Anakin that sometimes the bravest thing a person could do was ask for help.
Double kriff.
Obi-Wan held still in indecision, and stubbornness, a moment longer, but he remembered the warmth of the night before, how Jango had kept the nightmares at bay. Obi-Wan longed for that, a harbor from his nightmares and his own treacherous thoughts. Finally, he figured he had risked worse and probably more stupidly dangerous things than waking up a single Mandalorian, even if he was a Jedi Killer.
Although, in this timeline Jango hadn't actually done that yet.
As it was also true that Jango had claimed him as his child. But again, having only recently learned what his birth parents had actively wished for his death and tried drowning him as a two year old, Obi-Wan wasn't exactly reassured by the familiar titles.
Obi-Wan shook himself, Jango was all he had at this moment and he needed an anchor. In reality, he would continue to need Jango.
Sneaking off to the Order would put a target on Obi-Wan's back and the True Mandalorians seeing him as a spy for the Order would reaffirm any and all of their worst assumptions about the Order's doings and beliefs. His objective was to ensure the Jedi and the True Mandalorians weren't at each other's throats.
Likewise, asking for the Order's help out right would end in complete disaster, he didn't need the slight hissing of the Force against his shields to warn him against that.
No, this was the path the Force had led him to and this path the one he had chosen. He either had to go all in or risk destroying everything he had ever fought and killed for.
Obi-Wan's eyes had adjusted to the dim ship lights and he knelt by where his new guardian rested. Obi-Wan held his breath as he laid his small hand over Jango's where it rested, fisted in the blanket. Jango jerked awake, though he made no sound, looking at Obi-Wan with just his eyes. Jango turned, reaching for him without speaking. Obi-Wan tensed even as he allowed himself to be pulled into an embrace, reminding again of how small he was and how little defense he had against this warrior.
"You alright, ner verd'ika?" Jango asked roughly.
Obi-Wan couldn't speak, his tongue stuck.
If he spoke he would cry, and he wasn't ready to show Jango that much of himself, not yet. So he just burrowed underneath the warmth of the blankets, making his intention clear.
I need to not be alone. I don't want to be cold. I feel so lost.
Jango grunted, practically rolling on top of Obi-Wan as he tucked him secularly against his side, putting Obi-Wan between himself and the wall.
It wasn't quite as comfortable as safe as sharing a bunk with Quin or being held by Master Ali-Alann, but it was safe enough.
It was strange, in the fear he had of Jango Fett, in knowing the utter lethal potential of him, Obi-Wan had absolute faith that there was next to nothing that could get past him. Obi-Wan snuggled closer until he could press his ear directly over Jango's heart. The slow steady rhythm told him it was indeed safe. He was at Jango's mercy, and though Obi-Wan could not predict what the Mando would do if he discovered Obi-Wan's secrets, until he did, he could trust in this warrior's blatant protectiveness. Just as he planned to prove his own loyalties by fighting for the True Mandalorians. Their fates were intertwined.
Obi-Wan had to trust that Jango would shelter him, he had to believe the Force was with them both, and that this path would lead the galaxy to a brighter future than the sorrow General Kenobi had slipped away from.
The Force hummed its approval, speaking to him even as he denied himself the freedom to speak openly to it in turn.
Clarification: Sorry for any confusion. Think of Obi-Wan basically trying to flip languages, but he still thinks like a Jedi, and the Force is a very loud roommate, just because Obi-Wan swears off using that language, he can still understand it. Vowing to think in a forgien language (not using the Force) is a demanding resolution that will take time before he is in any way successful.
He sees it as necessary because without having time to commit to training or a Master to help him through it, he is likely to slip up and accidentally use the Force to do an impossible jump or float some rocks ;)
He's thinking of it as an all or nothing kind of deal.
Is this a stupid idea that has every chance of blowing up in his face, of course. But what else do you expect an ad'ika to do when divinity places what feels like the fate of the galaxy on his slim shoulders?
AN: Thoughts, reactions, tuataras, or feedback, pretty please?