The Mandalorian carried Obi-Wan all the way to a compound of sorts. They passed many people on their way, nearly all of them wearing armour of their own.

Helmets turned in his direction, faceless and hard sentries who marked his presence with nothing to signify what they were thinking or feeling. The Jedi could barely even sense their presence in the Force, and without facial expressions to judge their intentions by, it felt as if he was surrounded by ruthless droids.

The very thought of the armour they were wearing, boxing them in and keeping them cut off from the Force, made him shudder.

Would they treat their prisoners that way? Keep Jedi they captured locked away, surrounded by that inhibiting metal? Unconsciously, Obi-Wan turned away from the unfeeling helmets and tucked his face into the neck of the man carrying him. Jaster was the only warm spot to any of his senses – his presence was still filled with a seemingly misplaced but oh-so-reassuring warm protectiveness. It was the only reason that he hadn't yet jumped out of the man's grasp and tried to get away again.

Despite being practically surrounded by enemy warriors, there was no warning of danger in the Force. Whether that was because there was no danger, or because that armour would make it so that Obi-Wan wouldn't even be able to sense the danger before it was too late-

His breath caught and he tried to listen more closely to the Force. As before, though, Jaster was the only thing he could clearly feel – an anchor that Obi-Wan was holding onto far more than he should be. At least the man was intent on his path and with the armour between them didn't seem to notice how clingy the teenager he was carrying really was. As long as Obi-Wan managed to calm himself before they got to wherever they were going it would be fine, he told himself.

So he allowed himself the crutch, even if he knew that it was something a padawan shouldn't need. But it helped him to release his fear and at the moment that was more important. So Obi-Wan focused on the warmth against his skin and the way the Mandalorian's steadfast protection enfolded him.

The strongest edge of his fear dulled and was replaced by calm. He reached out, and found that the Force was still there, present and at peace - while the intentions of the people around him may be quiet, the Force was still with him.

Obi-Wan relaxed, just the slightest bit. For now, there was no danger. He was a Jedi, he would trust in the Force.

The padawan had been taken into what was undoubtedly a medical room. It was entirely different from the Temple healers, but it was still unmistakable for what it was.

"Alor. Ah, and who is this?" The being who greeted them was wearing several pieces of armour, but not covering their face or hands. He could sense them in the Force, could feel their immediate focus on them both, aimed at discovering possible injuries.

"This is Obi-Wan. Ob'ika, meet Miji, our baar'ur or medic."

"I'm not injured," Obi-Wan stated when he was being gently set down on a raised cot, clearly meant for examination.

Jaster waited until he was seated on it before answering him. "It's standard procedure for our verde to be seen by the baar'ur after being out in the field, even if it's just for a short check-up. There are things we can miss, in the heat of battle, and it it's good to catch injuries and other problems before they can get worse." The Mandalorian was seemingly entirely unselfconscious about taking up the medic's time to explain things to him.

Obi-Wan nodded quickly and looked at the medic - they weren't excluding any irritation at the unnecessary delay, though, but simply agreed with that statement. "As Jaster says, it's best to catch any injuries early, before the problem becomes bigger."

"I'm not one of your verde, though," he dared to point out, the strange word falling a little awkwardly from his lips. From the context he assumed it meant people, or possibly soldiers.

Jaster smiles at him, undeterred, "That's true. But you were out there in the field and if you got injured while getting our ade to safety, it's our responsibility to make sure that you're healed."

"That was very brave of you, ad'ika," the medic said. "And it's not just verde who visit the baar'ur, you also like to make sure that new arrivals are healthy and have the necessary immunizations for this sector. So the reason for you being here is really two-fold. If there aren't any problems, we'll be done with it soon enough, though. Would you like for Jaster to stay or leave?"

Obi-Wan blinked at the sudden choice and answered, "Stay."

His answer had been a quick, instinctive one, but even as he felt his cheeks warm he didn't take it back. He did avoid the man's eyes, though.

"Of course, Ob'ika," The Mandalorian agreed easily, taking up a spot next to the cot that was out of the medic's way but still close by. It was ridiculous for the padawan to feel reassured by that, but perhaps it was a good thing if it helped him to stay calm - that was important after all. You can't feel the Force or act as a Jedi should when you're panicking. He looked at the medic and nodded in what he hoped was professionalism. He wasn't sure if he'd managed it, but they smiled at him and started their examination, explaining each step beforehand.

Surprisingly it wasn't that bad. He could feel Jaster's eyes on him when the healer applied a salve to every one of Obi-Wan's uncovered scars - the one on his neck from the collar on Bandomeer especially seemed to evoke a strange sort of protective anger from the man, yet neither of the Mandalorians remarked on it.

Before he knew it he was done. Miji informed him in a kind but stern healer's voice that he was underweight and needed to take the time to eat and assured that Jaster would remind him of mealtimes. He was also informed that they'd set up a meeting for him with one of the mir baar'ur - which were apparently separate from the usual medics but were meant to check on their mind. He was confused about how Force-nulls would be able to find mental trauma, but was assured that he would only need to talk to the other healer, nothing more.

"That can wait until tomorrow, though, ad'ika," Miji told him warmly before he was released from the medic's care.

Obi-Wan just nodded dutifully and followed Jaster's guiding hand on his shoulder out of the room.

"Well, since I don't want to get into Miji's bad graces, I suppose food is next on our list," the Mandalorian informed him with an inviting smile and Obi-Wan was led through the compound until they came to a set of guarded doors.

The Mandalorians standing on either side of the double doors tilted their heads in what Obi-Wan thought was a greeting of sorts and let them pass. Obi-Wan wondered if this was going to be his cell, but the rooms he was guided into were far too comfortable for that. He looked around with some confusion, the tenseness melting from his shoulders as he noted all the personal touches.

"These are the Clan Mereel's family rooms," Jaster explained. "Go ahead and sit down, or look around if you want. Either is fine, ad'ika. I'll just ask someone to bring us some early dinner."

It wasn't long before an unknown Mandalorian brought them both a stew that tasted heavily of unfamiliar spices, as well as some soft warm buns. He ate slowly, the meal more tasteful than he was used to, but not so much as to be unpleasant. He couldn't eat it all and set the bowl down on the low table in front of them when he was pleasantly full.

"All done, ad'ika?"

"Yes," Obi-Wan affirmed. "Thank you," he added more quietly.

Jaster shook his head, looking serious. "You're a child currently in my care, Obi-Wan. And as an adult it is my job to make sure you're safe and healthy. These are not things you will ever need to thank me for."

That was an odd way to put it. The padawan frowned but decided not the argue the point. His situation was precarious enough as it was, if the fact that this man saw him as a child instead of a Jedi was what kept him from being locked up as an enemy, that would actually be a good thing.

Silently, Obi-Wan nodded.

That seemed to be response enough for the Mandalorian, though, because he received another smile and was gently ushered towards what would apparently be his room. He stared at it from the doorway. It looked comfortable, a wooden wardrobe, a desk and a bed with an unnecessary number of pillows and blankets all of it decorated in warm reds, browns and yellows.

"My room is just over there," Jaster informed him, pointing to a door at the end of the hall. "If you need anything, or have a nightmare you can come and find me. Just knock first, alright, ad'ika? It's better not to startle a warrior upon waking," he explained.

He understood the last part, at least theoretically, but felt incredulous at the thought of waking the man up in the first place even if he did have a nightmare. Still what he understood clearly from that explanation was that he wouldn't be locked in and that was good.

He nodded numbly.

"Alright. Sleep well, ad'ika."

Obi-Wan stepped inside the room and quietly closed the door behind him. He stood silently for a moment, waiting until he heard the Mandalorian's heavy thread move away from the door. Then he breathed out and walked over to the room's single window. It was large enough for him to fit through, but it also looked out over a courtyard. He saw many armoured Mandalorians - some simply walking around, alone or in groups or pairs talking to each other, but also several who like the beings outside of these rooms clearly standing guard.

There were a lot of guards in this compound. Was he a prisoner? He didn't think prisoners would be treated this kindly and yet he very much suspected that the guards would definitely stop him from leaving and if his escape failed, then he would probably be treated like a prisoner in truth.

He stood in front of that window for a very long time, his mind working furiously to come up with the best course of action. Even with the hour growing later, the guards outside remained, though he'd seen them change shifts. Eventually he decided it would be better to wait for now. He was tired and maybe tomorrow he'd... well, he'd figure it out.

Obi-Wan finally allowed himself to slide into the welcoming bed. Despite everything that had happened, it didn't take long for him to drift off.

The next morning, Obi-Wan had woken up feeling better - more steady in any case. He quietly washed himself in the attached bathroom and got dressed. When he left his room and entered the same cozy living area as the day before, Jaster was already there, setting up a small spread of bread and fruits for breakfast.

"Good morning, Ob'ika, did you sleep well?"

Surprisingly, he had. "Yes."

Jaster smiled. "I'm glad to hear that," he said and Obi-Wan could feel that the man was genuine. That made it easy to come closer and sit down beside him, despite the fact that as a Jedi, this Mandalorian was his traditional enemy.

Jedi didn't hate, though, didn't hold grudges or judge beings like that, so sharing a comfortable breakfast with a man who had shown nothing but kindness and felt steadfast but peaceful in the Force was perfectly fine.

The peaceful atmosphere didn't last for long, though. It was broken by a single question.

"The Mand'alor is here to speak with you. Would you be alright talking to him?" Jaster asked him as if he had a choice in the matter.

The padawan knew he couldn't avoid it, but he also vividly remembered his previous conversation with the Mandalorian leader and how grateful he'd been for the vastness of space separating Obi-Wan from that rage. But padawan or not, he was still a Jedi.

"Yes," Obi-Wan answered, mustering up as much confidence and certainty as he could gather. If most of it was a mask, then that was fine because no-one would know.

Jaster put a hand lightly on his shoulder – not keeping him in place, it was simply the weight of someone being present. "You don't have to," the man said, "Not if you don't feel ready for it."

Except that the Mand'alor was already here, at the compound, and wanted to speak with him. "I'll talk to him," Obi-Wan stated.

"Alright," Jaster agreed easily. "But if at any moment you want to leave, just let me know and we will go. He can wait, Obi-Wan, and no-one would be angry about it, I promise you that. You're safe here. Do you understand?"

Dutifully, Obi-Wan nodded.

Jaster looked at him a moment longer before leading him towards what he informed Obi-Wan was called the clan's official reception room.

The padawan entered the room and immediately spotted the only other occupant - a man in full armour - armour that Obi-Wan recognized from the confrontation back at the ship. He instinctively flinched back and might have run if it was not for the solid form behind him.

Jaster, whose hand was still steady on his shoulder. And the man had promised him safety, but then so had the Mand'alor – who'd apparently come to meet the Republican ship himself after having promised Obi-Wan safe passage.

Who had… what? Had entered the ship with a bit more force than Obi-Wan had been expecting? Was it possible that Obi-Wan had overreacted when the Mandalorians had come onto the ship's bridge? He hadn't been ready for them, hadn't felt ready yet to face them so had been meditating to release his anxiety into the Force when suddenly they were right there.

Had Obi-Wan been the one to start the violence by igniting his lightsaber? No, the Mandalorians had had their blasters ready, but then they are a warrior culture. Was that their usual way? He couldn't quite remember them actually shooting at him.

He didn't know. As a Jedi he should have been calm, should have assessed the situation objectively instead of letting his instinctive fear push him into causing even more of an incident.

Would he be able to go back to the negotiation stage after this? Get back his previous deal? This was still a head of state and the Mand'alor had deigned to come to an agreement, for a given value of the word, with Obi-Wan before. That meant it was possible. Then again, the padawan hadn't been at the man's mercy back then and it was entirely possible that Obi-Wan had invalidated that agreement by his violent reaction. Master Jinn had often lectured him about his temper and had clearly been right, because this time it might have cost Obi-Wan everything.

He remembered the Mand'alor's dark promise over the comm, before Obi-Wan had told him that the younglings were safe - that he would show in blood and pain how he felt about Jedi and had to hold back a flinch.

He stared at the forbidding form, who was now looming over him in real life and he should be saying something, should be a proper Jedi and be diplomatic and at least try, but it was hard to find the words in face of overwhelming odds.

He closed his eyes, forced himself to center, to scrape together some form of composure and found that clenching his hands into fists stopped them from shaking.

When he opened his eyes again he managed to meet those of the now helmetless man in front of him. Obi-Wan swallowed, and just as during his earlier holocall he jumped in to speak first before he could lose whatever scraps were left of his courage.

"Mand'alor," he greeted, powering though even though every word he had to muster up felt like it was carving out what strength remained in him. "I apologize for my unwarranted reaction. I hope I did not make it seem as if I in any way mean to renege on our earlier agreement."

He stared straight back at the leader without truly seeing him, too focused on getting the words out and doing his best to hide his clenched fists beneath his sleeves.

"Ad'ika," the Mand'alor drew the word out like a sigh, as if it was supposed to convey a thousand things that Obi-Wan couldn't even begin to fathom. The man didn't sound angry, though, and now that Obi-Wan actually looked he didn't perceive any anger or hate in his face either. Not like their earlier holocall. That made it easier to keep his gaze fixed on the man no matter how badly the padawan wanted not to have to face this.

He stared back at the Mandalorian leader without flinching and let the silence linger – he'd said his words, it was up to the other man now because Obi-Wan didn't have the words, the hope, the energy to try any further diplomacy even if perhaps he should.

The Mand'alor wordlessly shook his head and seemed to fold down in front of him. The armoured man actually knelt in front of Obi-Wan. "Ni Ceta," he said, words as serious as a vow - if only Obi-Wan knew that it meant. Thankfully the man didn't leave him to guess but carried on. "The fault was mine, ad'ika," the Mand'alor stated plainly, as if it wasn't an admittance of weakness in front of a sort-of-enemy, "I apologize. We came in too hard. I frightened you and it was my wrong. Ni ceta."

If he had the words, Obi-Wan would protest that he hadn't been frightened, that Jedi controlled their fear, but his throat felt too tight to get a word out.

He wasn't sure how much time passed in that frozen state before Jaster came to stand next to him and quietly spoke: "Ob'ika?"

He looked at Jaster and that kind look on his face was almost enough to drive the padawan right back to tears again. He bit his lip to prevent it – it was bad enough that he'd cried in front of this man before. He couldn't cry in front of the Mand'alor as well. That would be worse, somehow. He glanced back at the man in question who was still exactly in the same place, looking back steadily at him with an unexpected patience.

Obi-Wan thought he was probably supposed to say something. That was how apologies worked - he was supposed to accept and profess forgiveness even if it had been Obi-Wan who had caused this whole mess to begin with. Perhaps there were even some specific words that should be used for accepting a Mandalorian apology – it certainly felt like something official because the Mand'alor himself was kneeling for him. What if it was an important Mandalorian ritual and he was supposed to do something but he didn't know what?

"Udesii, Ob'ika." Jaster's steady voice brought him from his frozen indecision. "Come on, ad'ika."

He didn't need to respond, gentle hands guided him away from the large hall and he numbly followed, leaving the kneeling Mand'alor behind.

Jaster brought him back to the cozy living room. Once there, the padawan was bundled up on the couch, a blanket wrapped loosely around him despite the fact that it was hardly cold. Jaster sat down next to him, close enough for him to feel the man's body heat. He'd left Obi-Wan enough room on the couch to move to the side if he wanted to, but right now the teenager felt too shaky to move away from the steady form.

"That was bravely done, Ob'ika," Jaster finally told him, so very warmly as if he was proud of him, despite the fact that Obi-Wan hadn't done anything and might have even caused another diplomatic incident while he was at it.

The Mand'alor hadn't looked angry, though. Hadn't felt it either. The Force right now was calm, peaceful and slowly he relaxed under the blanket and leaned further into the man next to him who radiated nothing but care. He barely even noticed that he was falling asleep until he felt himself gently lowered down, the blanket tugged up a little to rest beneath his chin.

"Sleep well, ad," he heard Jaster murmur but he was already too caught up in the haze of sleep to say anything back.

The lecture he'd meant to give his son lay unneeded on his tongue and he swallowed the words, sighing instead. "Jango," was all Jaster said and his son immediately grimaced at him.

"I know, buir," Jango said, sounding hoarse and looking bone-weary. "Vor entye, for finding him."

"He's an ad," Jaster pointed out, because what else would he have done?

"I know. I didn't expect…" The Mand'alor shook his head. "It was foolish."

Jaster shook his head and smiled wryly, seeing the small glimmer of humor in the situation. "You mean you didn't expect a jet'ika to have been the one to hail you from contested airspace to discuss bringing the children he'd saved from a Republic attack back to us? And then have the guts to agree to come to Manda'yaim?"

His ad smiled a little, shaking his head. "Clearly I should have."

The smile fell away a moment later though, leaving a troubled frown in its wake. "Where was his jetii'buir? Why is he alone?"

Jaster shook his head, "Not dead," he answered with what little information he had. "Busy elsewhere, the ad said. And from the way Ob'ika said it, it seemed as if it's not unusual for the shabuir to leave him alone on missions."

Jango swallowed and looked away. "He's afraid of me. Of course he is. I entered that ship fully intending to intimidate a jedi and I succeeded at that. And buir… some of the things I said before, during that holocall. I didn't know I was speaking with an ad. I thought it was the demogalka who had murdered our own ade."

Ah. That made sense, of course. When news of the attack had reached them there hadn't been a Mandalorian out there without a thirst for revenge, their people were not the type to suffer any attack without retribution but believing nine of their own children dead had added to that a thousandfold.

"I don't think the verd'ika will hold it against you," Jaster finally said, and that much was the truth. Obi-Wan may not have accepted his son's apology right away, but then that was hardly required. That was not the point of an apology. Still, the fact that the ad had tried to apologize first – had tried to carry the blame for something that was so very clearly not his responsibility... well, it was not a good sign about the way he had been raised but it did indicate that the jet'ika wouldn't hold what had happened against them.

"That doesn't make it better," his son said, sounding every inch the indignant teenager he had once been instead of the Mand'alor he had become.

"I know," Jaster answered, tapping into the steady calm of a leader that came to him much easier than his brave and kind but also decisive son. That trait had served them well, Jango had been good for the Empire and Jaster had never regretted stepping aside as Mand'alor to enjoy his retirement, knowing he was leaving his people in good hands. But although Jango followed the guidelines from Jaster's reforms as Mand'alor he was not the diplomat that his buir was.

That was fine, though, because he had his advisors for that and Jaster was one of them.

The Mand'alor didn't need an advisor right now, though. Jango needed his buir. And that role came to Jaster even easier. "Right now Obi-Wan needs our support, not our anger," he said, drawing his stubborn ad into a keldabe.

They didn't pull back for a long moment.

"You'll make it up to him," Jaster stated with certainty because he knew his son. "You promised him safe passage? Back to the Republic? To the Jetii Order?"

Jango grimaced. "I did. I won't break my word on that, not when he seemed so scared that I would renege that promise. But buir, I can't let a child go back to a neglectful or abusive situation and this ad… "

Yes, Obi-Wan showed clear markers of neglect if not abuse in his behaviour alone. The scars were troubling and he was underweight and also starved for any praise or affection. Jaster wasn't sure if it was only due to his jetii'baji or a sign of how the jetii order as a whole treated their young.

"He's thirteen," Jaster pointed out, at least if the ad could be believed and since the jet'ika didn't seem to have known the significance of that age for their people, he didn't think Obi-Wan had been lying. "If he chooses to go back, we cannot stop him."

If this was a child of their own people, there were measures they could take – safeguards. But if the choice was letting the child go back or keeping him prisoner… the second would probably be more traumatizing than the first. And would leave him without any safe haven to flee to should it ever come to that.

"You didn't specify a timeframe, did you?" Jaster added. "To grant him safe passage we must first ascertain that he's healthy enough to make the trip. And right now that ad is a few good meals and a great many therapist meetings short of healthy."

It would give the child time to change his mind. And it would give Jaster some time to gently pry loose a few more answers about who, exactly, was to blame for the lack of care.

Jango snorted. "I'm not sure if the jet'ika will go for that. He seems very stubborn."

Jaster smiled. "He'll fit right in."

Staying with Jaster was odd. After his... meeting with the Mand'alor and an unplanned for nap on the couch, he was woken up by Jaster entering the room, carrying a tray of food.

"It's time for midmeal, Ob'ika," the man informed him quietly, giving him some time to wake up a little more before he quietly urged him to eat.

After their midmeal the padawan was brought to the courtyard that he'd watched the night before and let loose among the group of children there, provisionally in the care of an older teenager who seemed to take his duty quite seriously. The older boy didn't feel like a guard, though, more like a senior padawan helping out with initiate lessons. The sixteen year old, Bayu, had even started teaching Obi-Wan some mando'a when Bayu realized that half of what the children were saying confused him.

The day went by in an odd haze. It was only after dinner back in Jaster's rooms that he realized that he'd spend all day trying to figure out the language and unspoken social rules without ever stopping to wonder about what he was even doing here in the first place.

Obi-Wan was curled up in a comfy chair and had just finished browsing through the datapad that Jaster had given him. There were mando'a modules on there and modules on Mandalorian history and culture and while Obi-Wan would usually be jumping to learn more about all of those things, right now he just felt too confused to commit to it. He looked up at Jaster, who had seated himself on the couch that Obi-Wan had napped on before.

"I need to go meditate," he said and blinked when he realized he had said that out loud.

Jaster looked up from his own data pad – paperwork he'd informed the padawan with a dramatic mournfulness. "Ah, of course, Ob'ika. That's fine. Would your room be alright for that, or do you need somewhere with…" Jaster gestured around him, "natural things? I can take you to a park, if that would help. Or a river?"

"No," Obi-Wan said quickly, "my room is fine, I'll uh… go." He took the data pad with him as he left the room, feeling oddly embarrassed at the interaction, as if he had admitted to a failure. But meditating would help him order his thoughts and emotions and Jaster hadn't seemed offended at him mentioning it, even though it was mostly a Jedi thing, so… it was probably fine.

He breathed out a sigh of relief as he entered what had been dubbed 'his' room. It was… nice. It reminded him of the creche, a little, with the amount of colorful blankets and pillows inside. Though his room there had been shared with crechemates and hadn't had a wooden desk and a chair and thick, overly-long curtains.

The next day, Jaster had actually taken him outside of the compound. The marketplace they went to at Obi-Wan's slightly hesitant request was even busier than he remembered. He had been distracted when he'd been here before, his focus had been on noticing any pursuers, on hiding.

The Togruta he'd robbed had been without his helmet, making him easier to sense in the Force than fully armoured Mandalorians. He'd been focused on the feel of them – looking out for any sign that they'd spotted him. Their armour had been decorated in yellow and blue and their helmet was shaped differently compared to the others to account for their montrals.

"Oh. I think that's them," Obi-Wan said quietly when he noticed them. He could hardly sense the person with their helmet on, but he was sure it was them.

Jaster heard him and bent down a little, turning to him. "I see, Obi'ika. Do you want to go and talk to them?"

Obi-Wan looked down at the blue cloak in his hands, carefully folded up, and then back at the busy market place he would have to traverse to get to the person it belonged to. Last time he'd been keeping to the shadows, running and hiding. There was no need for that now, though, so the padawan breathed and let go of his remembered fear. It took a long moment, but when he was done he felt steadier.

He glanced at the man by his side, Jaster had his helmet off and wasn't looking at Obi-Wan, he was standing there placidly, as if he had nowhere else in the world to be. If the other man had been a Jedi, he'd have said the man was meditating.

"Uh-" Obi-Wan started quietly, afraid that he'd be disturbing the man.

Jaster immediately turned to look at him. "Yes, ad'ika?" he asked.

"I'd like to go talk to them," Obi-Wan stated. "But you can wait here, if you want?"

The man tilted his head, examining him for a moment and then smiled. "Of course, Obi-Wan. I'll be right here."

It felt strange, how Jaster listened to him so very attentively, even when it was just Obi-Wan saying nothing important. He was used to being looked at closely - with Master Jinn, it had felt as if he was waiting for Obi-Wan to show just how badly he failed at being a Jedi. This felt differently, though, but he wasn't sure how or why.

He nodded and turned towards the Togruta who was the reason they were here. Unconsciously, he straightened, feeling surer now that there was a clear mission in front of him, even if it was perhaps not as important as his usual missions. But that wasn't entirely true, was it? Usually he was trying to right wrongs that other beings had caused, this time he was making right his own wrong and maybe it was not as bad as some things, it was still something that needed to be fixed.

Resolved, Obi-Wan walked quickly towards the Mandalorian he'd pointed out.

"Su cuy'gar," he greeted the being, pronouncing it carefully to make sure he got it right.

The Mandalorian looked down at him and after a moment slowly took off his helmet. "Su cuy'gar, ad." The Togruta greeted him back.

"Uh, here." He held out the folded cloak. "It's yours. I'm very sorry I took it," Obi-Wan earnestly told the other being, feeling genuinely contrite. This was so much worse than the apologies he'd been made to give as an initiate when he and Quinlan got caught for some form of mischief the older boy had managed to talk him into – they'd never done anything harmful, never took something that belonged to someone else for their own, not like this.

"Oh, ad'ika, that's fine. It's just a cloak." For a moment it looked as if the Togruta wouldn't accept it back. And no, that was not why Obi-Wan was here. He wouldn't keep it after taking it.

"Perhaps, but it's yours so you should have it back. I don't need it anymore," he added.

The being paused for a moment but nodded. "Alright, ad. Did it help?"

Obi-Wan blinked at the unexpected question and considered it for a moment. He had felt just a little safer, hiding his Jedi tunics under the large blue cloak. In the end, he had still been found, though. But he'd been found by Jaster and not by the Mandalorians from the port.

"Yes," he answered. "It helped. Thank you. Uh. Vor entye."

"N'entye, ad. May I have your name?"

"Obi-Wan Kenobi," he introduced himself, holding out a hand. The Togruta gently clasped him around the forearm instead of shaking it.

"I am Tagree Bezyn. Thank you for bringing it back to me."

He blushed and with one last nod turned to go back to Jaster. The man was looking over the padawan's shoulder, presumably nodding a greeting of sorts to the Togruta Obi-Wan had just left. Then he looked down to Obi-Wan, smiling at him while he walked up.

"Well done, Obi-Wan," he praised effortlessly as if the padawan had actually done something worthwhile instead of wasting the man's time by dragging him along on an unimportant errand. He looked away.

"Hmm, well now that we are here, we can pick up a few things. It's almost time for midmeal as well, isn't it? Anything smell good?"

He hadn't been paying attention to the food stands but now that he did the smells were rather appealing, though hard to place.

"I don't know," he said. "I don't recognize most of it."

Jaster lay a hand on his shoulder, steering him towards a few colorful stands at their left. "The best way to remedy a lack of knowledge is, of course, education. Shall we go educate ourselves?"

Obi-Wan huffed out a breath and smiled. Jaster might be half-jesting, but he wasn't wrong exactly. "Alright," he agreed softly. "But I'm not eating any bugs."

The Mandalorian laughed. "I think we can manage that, ad."

"Is it alright if Jango joins us?" Jaster asked him seriously, when it was just the two of them in the room. "I know he scared you – if you're not comfortable…"

Obi-Wan recognized the name, of course. There really could only be one Jango for Jaster to be talking about. "Why would the Mand'alor join us? Does he want to talk to me?"

He hadn't spoken to the Mand'alor since that whole... thing.

"Ah. I forgot you wouldn't know. Jango is my son – he kept his last name after he was adopted, but he is a member of Clan Mereel. When he's on planet and not too busy for his old man, he often stays here for dinner or even to sleep."

Oh.

Obi-Wan had clearly misunderstood. He'd been making this about him, while it so obviously wasn't. Feeling foolish he shook his head. "Of course, that's fine," he immediately said because he wouldn't let something as silly as being somewhat uncomfortable around the Mand'alor stop a father from seeing his child.

A part of him also wondered what a family meal like that would be like. While Master Jinn had mentioned in passing meals with his own Master and Master Yoda – something about an inedible stew – Obi-Wan had never been part of any of those meals. And although he knew Master Yoda from the creche, he had never even met Master Dooku. He didn't think Master Jinn still spent time with him. It was not the same, of course, for Jedi but… "It's nice. That he wants to spend time with you, I mean."

That, thankfully, made the worried expression melt right from Jaster's face into a big smile that suited him far better. "It is," the man agreed. "Let me know if it's too much, though, ad'ika. I raised Jango, I know exactly what a handful he can be."

Obi-Wan blinked trying to imagine the imposing warrior as a child. He couldn't quite summon up a realistic view. "He can't be worse than Quinlan," he finally offered.

Jaster put an arm around him. "I can't wait to hear all about it," he said, feeling entirely sincere about that in the Force.

Obi-Wan relaxed. He could do this. He would talk about the stupid things Quinlan had dragged him into – from Force-enhanced water fight tag in the room of a thousand fountains to that time they had snuck out of the Temple and got lost on the lower levels. Some of it was mildly embarrassing, but at least none of it was sensitive information as long as he didn't mention certain specifics.

To his surprise dinner actually went well. Both Jaster and Jango had listened attentively and with appreciative humor at the few stories Obi-Wan dared to share and Jaster had no issue with embarrassing his own son with his choice of stories in return.

The Mand'alor bore the indignity of being reminded of his teenage shenanigans with slightly ill grace (he threw a bread roll at his father) but didn't actually put a stop to it, so it was probably fine. The two adults had thrown barbs back and forth, about old age and the foolishness of youth, but there was always care underlying their words.

The atmosphere was warm and the food was good and filling. He suspected that his own meal wasn't nearly as spicy as that of the others and, both curious and bolstered by the tales of daring and the vague thought of what-would-Quinlan-do, he waited until Jaster was distracted by a rather fervent argument about some part of the Supercommando Codex - some sort of book, if Obi-Wan was correct – to sneak a spoonful from the man's plate.

He was immediately punished by what felt like a burst of flame on his tongue. It was pure force of will that stopped him from letting out any sound.

When he instinctively looked around for anything to help him, he met the Mand'alor's eyes. From the utterly amused look on the man's face he had definitely caught it. Ignoring Jaster's monologue with an ease born from familiarity, Jango unobtrusively gestured at the mug of blue milk.

Obi-Wan usually only drank that as a type of dessert after the meal. Willing to try anything at this point, he carefully poured himself a glass and closed his eyes in relief as the milk helped douse the fire.

A long moment later, Obi-Wan took a careful bite of his own food and recognized that it must have some of the same spices, just very much toned down. He stared at disbelief at the other's plate and shook his head. Next to him Jaster was just winding down when Jango made another casual-sounding remark that was clearly not to be borne because it resulted in an immediate response of 'You cannot be serious, Jango. I raised you better than to believe something like that,' followed by another in depth lecture about this Codex.

Obi-Wan made a mental note to find out what it was later. It was clearly culturally important. Though not so serious that the Mand'alor couldn't tease his father about it, apparently.

Mandalore was not at all what he would have expected.

"Are you just… going to keep me here? Am I a prisoner?" Obi-Wan finally dared to ask, four days into his stay at the Clan Mereel compound. He'd waited for a moment when he was alone with the Mand'alor, because for some reason asking the same of Jaster would have felt... wrong.

Jango took off his helmet, buy'ce as it was called in mando'a. "No. I gave you my word, I won't go back on it. If you want to return to the Jettii I will arrange it. But Obi-Wan, if you don't want to, or if you change your mind later, there will always be a place for you here. The only reason buir hasn't adopted you is because as Mand'alor, the agreement I made with you would preclude that. You are wanted here. And you are loved."

Obi-Wan stared back, wide-eyed and utterly caught off guard. Jango was utterly serious, didn't sound even the least bit embarrassed about just… saying all of that.

He swallowed. "I need to go back," he said and when the man just frowned at him, he rephrased. "I want to go back."

At that Jango sighed but nodded. "Alright, Ob'ika. We'll get you there."

The Mand'alor kept his word. Two weeks after his dramatic arrival in the very center of the Mandalorian Empire, he was finally ready to leave. He wasn't sure where Master Jinn was, hadn't dared call him from the compound and told himself it would be better to wait until he was out of Mandalorian Space. That meant he wouldn't be able to call until after leaving the first hyperspace lane, but that was fine. What difference did a few more days make?

Jaster had tried to insist on coming with him on the ship, along with a squad of verde to make sure Obi-Wan safely made it home.

Obi-Wan, in turn, had tried to argue that he'd be fine alone. He'd faced pirates before and would be fine even if something happened. He often split up from his Master, he was a padawan - he could handle it. Besides, considering the current diplomatic relations between Mandalore and the Republic (or more accurately, the lack thereof) having Mandalorian warriors with him wouldn't end well when Obi-Wan finally met up with his Master, or other Republican forces.

Eventually they settled on the compromise that Obi-Wan could leave on his own ship, but that there would be two Mandalorian vessels to accompany him back to neutral space.

He'd also been provided with a private comm and the numbers of Jaster, his mir baar'ur and the Mand'alor himself. He stared down at it, wondering if he would ever use it. Clearly he was supposed to, because Jaster took one look at him and knelt before him.

"Comm your mir baar'ur, Obi-Wan, once you're settled back home. She's there to help you – you're still her patient even if you're far away," Jaster told him, "Just as you're still an ad in my care, even if you're no longer under my roof. In our culture there is no way to go back on a promise of care to an ad – there is no wish to. A child may disown a parent or disavow a caretaker but never the other way around. You're mine to care for, so please let me."

Obi-Wan ducked his head and allowed the man to draw him into another one of his hugs. It was warm and reassuring like when he was meditating so deeply that the Force that it seemed to be curling around him – only a lot more solid than that. "Don't forget to comm me, my bright, brave ad. I'll worry, but if you comm me I might worry a little less."

"Alright," Obi-Wan said, though he wasn't sure if he should. Jedi were not allowed attachments and… he thought this might be one.

"And comm Jango the moment you can. The Mand'alor swore safe passage. If you don't let him know that you made it home safe he might feel honor bound to physically come check up on you. You won't put me in the position where I have to argue with Jango about why it's not a good idea to march on Coruscant, will you?"

"He can't do that!" Obi-Wan protested. "It would…" he didn't even know how to finish that statement because it would be a great many things and likely none of them good. "I'll comm," he finally promised and this time he meant it.

So the padawan had accepted the device, with its pre-programmed numbers and he stood by as the Mandalorians filled his vessel with supplies. He should probably be worried about what else they could be placing on the Jedi ship, but if there was nothing else he could trust about Mandalorians, by now he could believe that the Mand'alor meant to keep his promise to let Obi-Wan go safely. Which probably meant no bombs.

If there were any tracking transponders, those would not matter since everyone already knew where he was going. Listening or monitoring devices could be disabled at arrival – he'd just have to make sure to mention the possibility of tampering before he was assigned a landing space.

That plan helped him settle his remaining worries, so he was calm if somewhat awkward while he stood in front of Jango – the Mand'alor – for their own goodbye.

"Be safe, ad'ika. Comm to let me know that you've made it home. And comm if there is anything else. I owe you a debt, Obi-Wan. I will not forget it."

"N'entye," Obi-Wan said, meaning it completely.

The man smiled at that and shook his head with what felt in the Force like true fondness. "Comm me, Ob'ika. And whatever else you know of my people don't forget that we keep our promises and that no true Mandalorian would ever harm a child."

"I will remember," he said and nodded respectfully. Then he determinedly made his way to the ship.

If he looked back at Jaster one more time before boarding, then that was hardly illustrative of anything.

A.N. So here's Jango's apology. Or, you know, Obi-Wan's lack of self-esteem. However you want to look at it, I guess. Jaster took it easy on Jango - I wasn't planning on that, but it happened. Dads be dads, I guess?

I was going the adoption route but then this took a left turn? NorthernRanger made me think about them letting Obi-Wan go and well, it does make sense that Jango would be honour bound to do so, but also they wouldn't let a child go back to a bad situation, so that was kind of tricky and I'm not sure if this is the action that makes sense? Still, this is what came out when I wrote it, so. Yeah. Shrugs.

And somehow this ended up twice as long as the actual story I was adding to, so that was a surprise. I'm usually more word count poor than the opposite so I'm gonna count it as a good thing and just post the whole thing in one go.

Also due to lack of beta I'm just gonna throw this out there: Is it com or comm? Or just call?
(corrections on anything are always welcome)

Glossary

ad - child

ade - children

ad'ika - little one

alor - leader, chief, *officer*, constable, boss

baar'ur - medic / healer

buir - parent (ungendered)

buy'ce - helmet

demagolka - a real-life monster, a war criminal

jetii - Jedi

jetiise - Jedi (plural)

Mand'alor - sole ruler

Manda'yaim - Mandalore

mir baar'ur - compound of 'mind' and 'medic' to mean therapist

ni ceta - I'm sorry (lit. I kneel)

n'entye - No debt / You're welcome

shabuir - extreme insult - *jerk*, but much stronger

Su cuy'gar - Hello (lit. *You're still alive.*)

verde - soldiers / warriors

verd'ika - private (rank) Can be used affectionately, often to a child; *little soldier*

Vor entye - Thank you (lit. *I accept a debt*)