KEYnote: I acknowledge that the last chapter was a bit of a jump, and while that development was important, it was also a lot of angst and almost unnecessary amount of original characters and manufactured drama. So instead of writing a bunch of filler, we are skipping to the fun stuff :D

Trust me to be able to recap and make the things you missed be explained in depth throughout the story. These are a lot of men/boys who don't want to talk to about their feelings but are introspective and will be forced to confront their issues at later dates. You know, when the emotional trauma is much harder to deal with :D

Chapter 11 - Ships in the Night

Quin was sixteen years old and Obi-Wan had been gone for two years and to say that Order had changed in that time would be a dramatic understatement.

Quin wasn't exactly sure how the Council managed it, but within the last year a second temple had been erected in Kashyyyk of all places. All the younglings and initiates had been moved there.

While the planet had often suffered from attacks in the past, the Wookies allowed the Jedi to bring more modern tech to both the surface and the moons. Now the sector was one of the most well protected regions in the galaxy.

Unsurprisingly, tourists didn't begin to come in droves.

Aside from the cities made by the Wookies, which were mostly tree dwellings, there were no roads and at the heart of the jungle, only small ships could pass at low speeds. So unless the tourists wanted to bunk with Wookies and the local fauna, there was no place for them as Kachirho Temple was run only by Jedi Knights or Jedi Corps.

Quin was pretty sure the latter was the main motivation for moving the younglings and creating a temple at such a large capacity in the Mid-Rim. The Corps had literally no use on a planet like Coruscant. The Mid-Rim, however, provided better access for the galaxy at large and had a higher demand for aid. The Mid-Rim just had more problems than the Core, and the Outer Rim.

Though Quin was pretty sure no one, at least not the Council and the senior Jedi Knights and Masters, expected the overall response from the Jedi Corps.

Kashkyysk was not a particularly hospital planet, but the Corpsmen had been through worse. With the locals throwing out an open invitation to the Jedi, the Corps members had swarmed to Kashkyysk in droves, some to just to reunite with old crèchemates or mentors. But others? Others stayed. It became their home between missions, where previously they had been scattered between host planets or semi-temporary bases. Corps became the caretakers of the Temple and within months, it seemed the Knights were outnumbered eight to one, and to many predictably so, it worked better than the Coruscanti Temple ever had.

It shouldn't have been surprising after the fact that the fear amongst the younglings and the initiates of not becoming Jedi Knights disappeared almost completely.

It felt as if their numbers of both quadrupled seemingly overnight, as if they had all been lost to each other and now they were a family, a singular people, united.

Quin knew all this because Padawan training also rececentialazed on Kashyyyk. Yet in all of this, the moving, the rapid speed of intergalactic politics and near endless little complications, it was the cultural shift between the Knights and the other four Corps that caused the biggest stir amongst the older Masters and traditionalists.

The Agricultural Corps, the Medical Corps, the Educational Corps, and the Exploration Corps all had different a tone when it came to the lessons on attachment. Said lessons were so unorthodox it was funny.

The Corpsmembers had partners and children, children that were almost always Force sensitives. Their 'unorthodox' traditions, however, had existed in the Corps separate from the Knights academy for over a thousand years.

Masters Dooku and Qui-Gon Jinn were near gleeful at this discovery and Yoda huffed a lot at people, particularly parents, that had no problems with checking the Grandmaster whatsoever during lessons and training.

As for the Coruscant Temple, the artifacts, weapons, and confidential records had been moved to various safeholds, and the Temple now functioned as a safe house and public school for the Lower Coruscant.

And only the lower levels, which seemed to greatly annoy the surface dwellers, who began calling their Temple the 'portal to the Underworld'. But children, many of whom had never seen the sun before, were hungry for the opportunities the Temple offered.

Now that Mace was the sitting Senator of Coruscant, things were changing, especially when the surface police also were trained by the Jedi at the Coruscant Temple.

As it turned out, the Senator of Coruscant had an obscene level of power over the planet. Power that had gone unchecked due to bribery that Mace was using ruthlessly to embed change into the planet's laws and systems.

He was doing a lot in a relatively short time in the expectation that someone was going to check the power he held. Mace was completely adored by the common folk and utterly despised by the Senate where Mace used his voice to amplify voices such as Senator Organa.

Master Tholme had told him that Mace's run for the Senate seat had motivated the move to create a different Temple further from the Core. Also why their security had been increased tenfold. The Jedi Order was protected by its 'mysterious nature' but in the limelight of politics they were making themselves many more enemies then they had since the fall of the Sith.

Yet things seemed to be getting better, or at least, there was hope that the corruption in the Senate acted against.

Quin wondered often what Obi-Wan would think of it all. He still held onto hope that his friend was still out there, though for the life of him, Quin didn't didn't know why Obi-Wan hadn't come home yet

"Your head is floating between the stars, my Padawan," Master Tholme said, dragging him back to the here and now. "This crisis is not one to be taken lightly."

Quin huffed, swishing through the reports he had been given, "Yeah, well, we weren't the Master who decided to come alone to a planet that can't even pick its name. For the record, I think they should just name it Meldaan and be done with it."

Tholme gave him an unimpressed look but gave no verbal rebuke.

They were both upset. Quin had seen glimpses of civil wars before, fought on their edges more than once, and had seen its carnage and ruin afterward, but he had never even heard of a people at war with their younger generation.

They were fighting children.

Their own children.

The whole thing was grotesque and barbaric.

To Master Tahl's credit, she had requested aid from the beginning, Tholme and Quin were just the closest to get the message. Past a certain sector, communications were often garbled.

The Outer Rim; Home of Complications.

So, it was likely there would be no back up.

"We're coming out of hyperspace," Master Tholme said.

Quin put down the datapad and slipped into the co-captain seat. They prepared for the worst, and the worst came.

Master Tholme pulled them into a loop and it was all Quin could do to up the pressure adjusters and shields as they attempted a quick descent planetside.

"What in the hells-" Quin cursed as the ship was rocked by a shot. "I thought this planet was too poor for naval fighters!"

Master Tholme's expression is grime, "Those aren't natives, those are Mandalorian ships."

Which explained the fire power.

"We are in a Jedi marked ship," Quin hissed, shoving his fear into the Force.

Manalorians were bad news, of late, they had gotten even worse as Mandalore Proper was winding down a civil war, random warriors —terrorists— had been fuffilling an abnormal amount of bounties in the wider galaxy for quick income.

Presumably, to wind back up their civil war.

Such bounties were increasingly targeting planetary leaders and senators.

In the last two years, five senators had been successfully assassinated and Master Mace Windu had had about twenty assination attempts on his life. Not all of them were Mandalorians, but there were enough of the karking lightsaber-proof armour attempting such a feat.

A big problem was just not knowing what was driving the Mandalorians beyond the need for credits. All the information they had was that it was the 'True Mandalorians' who wanted to revert Mandalore back to the old ways.

Marauding, pillaging, and might makes right.

Karking bastards.

"Turn off the power," Tholme ordered.

"What!?" Quin exclaimed.

"We are going to fake a crash."

"No, we will just crash!"

"Do it."

"But the shields-"

"If we drop fast enough, we won't get hit."

"But-"

"Now, Padawan."

Taking a deep breath and praying to the Force, Quin cut the power.

They dropped like an asteroid.

Heart beating wildly, Quin sat ready for his Master's next instruction as the heat on the exterior of the ship speeped inward when the wings took flame.

"Ready?" Tholme asked.

Ready for what!? Quin didn't ask aloud, his hands hovering over the controls.

"Full thrusters pointed down," Tholme ordered.

The ship wasn't going to make it, but it was times like these that you just had to trust the Master Jedi.

Crazy plans only worked when one had faith in them.

The power rocked the ship, and metal grounded as Tholme fought to keep the ship steady, still they warbled.

When the flames rescinded from the outside of the ship, they saw that the durasteel had been mostly ripped away.

Oh, and the ground was continuing to approach rapidly.

"Unbuckle," Tholme said as he did the same.

Quin did and the next moment Tholme opened the hatch. "Cut the power!"

Quin disengaged the thrusters, having to hang onto the seat as his legs flew upward. Not moments afterward, Tholme had an arm around his waist and they were in free fall. Using the Force, they worked in unison to push the ruined starship away from them and then again to soften their fall.

Tholme twisted, shielding Quin's body with his own on the packed dirt as an explosion from their ruined ship caused a small groundquake.

Master Tholme rose two minutes later, brushing off his robes with a brisk gesture, "Well done, Padawan Vos."

Quin got shakily to his feet, glaring at his Master, "How the kark are we getting off this planet now?"

Master Tholme shrugged, "As Master Jinn would say, the Force will provide."

Quoting Master Jinn was never a good indication of how the circumstances were going to proceed.

Obi-Wan was reasonably sure Melida/Daan was actually hell.

It was somehow worse than his memories, despite his lengthened experience in war. Watching kids go to war, starving in tunnels, their fear, their betrayal, and hope for a better future surrounding them all, wherever they looked…

Obi-Wan was both younger and older than was. A thirteen year old with an older teenager's disposition and a lifetime of memories that existed in mind as a favoured halo series. Most days he tried not to think about it too hard. But in times like these, he had the perspective of just how truly young these children were.

Obi-Wan had searched the holonet for the rising crisis of Malida/Daan. He had thought it might be difficult to bring the crisis up with Jango and convince them to enter this fight. But as it turned out, Death Watch was directly involved in this planet's debacle. Maybe they hadn't been in the old timeline, but in this one Death Watch seemed to be swarming toward mayhem and suffering like gas-moths to flame.

Thankfully, at least, even with the presence of the Watch, the True Mandalorians were winning and the Young were taken completely off the field save for the intel they could provide from their new and improved bunkers.

Over the last two years, Jaster hadn't allowed the Mereel clan to expand. He never spoke of Montross, not even to Jango, and no one else dared to talk about it.

Jango tried consulting Obi-Wan with it, worrying that Obi-Wan might being suffering from murdering a clanmember. But of the crimes and mistakes Obi-Wan had made over the course of his lives, killing Montross was an accomplishment, not a horror.

Still, Jaster doubted his own instincts. What was impressive to Obi-Wan was despite his not allowing their clan to grow larger, Jaster's leadership skills went above and beyond Obi-Wan's expectations. The True Mandalorian Codex had become a movement, a call to arms. Obi-Wan agreed wholeheartedly with Jango that Jaster deserved the throne and would serve Mandalore better than the Kryze clan could ever hope to.

He had met Andonai Kryze, he was pretty, well spoken, and sharp-minded but he was a politician, a man with an ambition for power, for his own legacy, not the future good of his people.

He hadn't met Satine yet, she and her little sister had been hidden outside the Mandalore system somewhere, but he understood why Satine had honed onto the notion of Pacifism so strongly.

It was because her father hadn't provided a stronger example of a Mandalorian warrior and because the other members of the Kryze clan and their advisors, were a bunch of weak-willed and slimy parasites who let others die to save their own hides.

It was aborhorant, and now that Obi-Wan fought on the other side of the equation, he understood why so many had sympathized with Death Watch. One path was weakness and impractical good intentions and the other was terrorisms, two kriffing terrible and extremist choices that would never be sustainable.

Unfortunately, Obi-Wan didn't know how to even attempt to persuade Jaster to step forward into a political role. All he knew was that the best politicians didn't want to sit the throne. Hurting his ba'buir's confidence was the only minor regret Obi-Wan had in the entire Montross matter.

A guilt that was appeased by the knowledge that someone as ambitious as Montross may have attempted to kill Jaster, or at least allow him to die. And Jaster had been dead by this year in Obi-Wan's old timeline. So if the choice was between Jaster or a serial killer, Obi-Wan would choose his ba'buir every time.

Obi-Wan signalled to Micah as they entered the Melida compound to rejoin Maas.

Micah paused, signing back, 'Where are you going?'

Obi-Wan signed back, 'A quick check of our intel. I'll circle around.'

It was a lie, and one of very few he had to give because it had to do with Jetii.

Micah nodded, trusting him, and took off in the opposite direction.

Obi-Wan didn't know for sure that she was here and didn't dare reach out in the Force to her.

One, his control over his subdued gifts weren't great anymore and two, he didn't want any other Jetii to come to him. Without opening his shields, without taking off his helmet, it was unlikely anyone would recognize him.

But he didn't need enhanced senses to find the prison cell Master Tahl had been tortured and starved in. It was something that had long haunted his nightmares, mixed in with the images from her actual death.

He hoped she wasn't there.

He hoped that if she was, she hadn't been here as long last time. He had been sure to grab extra medical supplies for this trip. They had been on this planet for two long weeks and he had worried everyday, hardly able to sleep at night.

He didn't go through the vents. The people he encountered this time he had absolutely no qualms killing these aruetiise. The number of guards in the hall supported Obi-Wan's fears that Tahl was here.

And when he heard a scream ring down the basement halls, he knew.

It took a lot to make a Master Jetii cry out during torture.

Obi-Wan used his blaster in quick precise shots, he was so familiar with these weapons now that half of the dozen or so guards dropped before they could fire back.

Their aim wasn't as good as his and the one shot that connected with him, he blocked with his bracer, which ended the shooter's life on the rebound.

The door to the cell opened and the or'dinii came out into the hall without checking first.

Such stupidity had no business in surviving a war.

The hall went eerily quiet save for the sound of Tahl's heavy breathing. That she didn't exit the cell spoke ill of her condition.

"Hello," Obi-Wan said, speaking in Basic for the first time in two years. He had put the voice moderirater on to cover his accent a bit. "I'm here to help, I'm with the Young."

Telling her he was a Mandalorian wasn't likely to help.

Tahl drew in a ragged breath and Obi-Wan bit down on a hiss as he got a look at her. She was on her knees, her arms were bound behind her back, she had several cuts across her dark skin, and her eyes… Her beautiful green-gold eyes were bloodshot and the skin around them bloated.

She clearly couldn't see him even though she looked toward him.

It took another shaky breath before she could respond, her voice soft, "Thank you."

Obi-Wan made his steps audible. They needed to get her out of here, she wasn't as emancipated as she had been the last time, meaning she hadn't been imprisoned as long. They needed to get out of here, but if there was even a chance of saving her sight, he had to administer treatment immediately.

It was what backplates were for, he thought as he dropped to his knees before her. "I have medical supplies, but I'm going to cut your bounds first, okay?"

He didn't touch her until she gave consent in an exhale, "Please."

His heart hurt as he reached around her with a metal cutter to clip the cuffs. Her hands came forward, catching herself against his shoulders as she tried to balance herself from falling on her face.

Her lack of balance was another indication of how hurt she truly was. He spoke as he pulled supplies from his pack and began dabbing around her eyes. He explained what he was doing so she wouldn't have to guess, so as to not further stress her for being unable to see. She relaxed slowly, the bacta easing the pain marked by her breathing evening out. As she slowly put herself and her psyche back together as he did the same to her exterior.

She leaned more heavily into him as he applied the bacta packs designed specifically for eye damage to the damaged organs. It was uncomfortable because she had to keep her eyes open for him to apply them. Afterward, she bowed her head as he wrapped gauze around her head, keeping the patches securely in place.

"We have to go. Do you have any weapons?" he asked, taking her hands in his to help her stand.

She was much taller than him, but he fit under her arm and though she was muscular, he was able to support her around the waist as she leaned into him without difficulty.

"They destroyed it," she said, heartbreak in her voice, as if at the death of a friend.

Losing a lightsaber was like losing a shard of your own soul.

He asked, "Do you want a blaster?"

She heisted but nodded and he gave her one of his own. Her hand curled around the butt and some of her spirit seemed to come back to her a bit.

"Are there any allies in these cells?" he asked, in this kind of war neither the Melida or the Daan were worth his time to save.

"They're all dead," she said flatly.

"How do you know that?" he asked, knowing exactly how she knew that.

"I heard the guards speak of it," she lied easily.

He moved on, "Do you have a ship or did they destroy that too? This planet doesn't have any better medical resources than this."

"They didn't, it wasn't a marked ship, easy to repossess."

Which was proof positive of Tahl's intelligence despite her being in this situation. She was renowned for her diplomatic skills, and though she had been overpowered here, she hadn't been silly enough to arrive in a ship marked by the Jedi insignia.

Melida/Daan wasn't a part of the Republic, as such, being a Jedi was both a hindrance and dangerous.

He was a bit worried about the Watch defending the upper atmosphere, but if he got the shuttle going on the outlands and she entered hyperspace soon enough, she would have a chance.

A better chance than staying here with her injuries on this cursed planet while Mandalorians were also having a turf war here.

"What's your name?" Tahl asked as Obi-Wan led her into the service backroom corridor that led to the shipping docks.

He paused before saying, "Fett, and yours?"

She paused in turn, clearly recognizing the name and putting the metal plating of his armour under her arm together. But she answered honestly, "Tahl. You're too young to be Jango Fett."

Obi-Wan could have said a lot of things to that, like he was Jango's son, but he didn't want her researching him later. "He's a clansman."

She didn't say what he thought she would, "If you're a True Mandalorian help me?"

Because I'm a Jedi, she didn't say, but it was clear in the subtext, though she didn't say it explicitly voice it on the off chance he didn't understand the indication of her robes or her own Coruscanti accent that was thicker than Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon's.

"You say that like it's a bad thing?" he jested, willing to let the issue pass.

"Your clansmen have attacked innocents."

"So have the Jetii," he snapped back with no small amount of bitterness. "You're just one of the Republic's enforcers. At least the True Mandalorians live by their Code, Jetiiese are more selective about the peace and morality they offer the galaxy."

Tahl couldn't know how much of his anger was fueled by self-loathing.

"Whereas the True Mandalorians want to resurrect the old days of marauding and killing without discrimination," she argued back with a bit of bite, reminding him painfully of Qui-Gon.

"Your arrogance betrays you, Jetii," he said a tad more coldly than he intended. "You're speaking of Death Watch, the True Mandalorians are the ones trying to stop them. Just like your Senators want to continue to benefit from corruption and the suffering of others, so does the Watch."

Tahl was silent as Obi-Wan slowed to check the hanger.

They had already cleared out the hanger, none of their clan had stayed here in the fear that the Watch might target this place from the sky.

"My apologies," Tahl said softly as they started moving again. "I didn't understand."

"Then you shouldn't have had an opinion on it. A word to the wise, stay out of Mandalorian issues. Defend yourself but don't interfere."

"Is that a threat?"

"If I meant you harm, Jetii Tahl, I wouldn't have helped you. What is your ship's make?"

She inclined her head, "I can only apologize again. I am not ungrateful for your help." Then she described her ship and it was easy enough to find.

"Do you know the coordinates for a safe place to jump to?" he asked as he all but carried her up the ramp of the ship.

She gave him a route that would jump her to one of Kashyyyk's moons.

He sat her in the copilot seat and was partially torn like he had been in his other lifetime.

To ensure Tahl's safety, he should go with her. Escort her to safety.

But he wasn't a Jedi any longer, and maybe he had never been meant to be that kind of Jedi.

Ultimately, the reason he had been promoted to the High Council wasn't because he put individuals above the lives of others. No, he had been promoted because he was able to make those hard choices.

Maybe it made him a cold hearted bastard, but it's exactly what made him a good warrior.

Still, he drove the ship out of the hangar himself, flying low down the east of a line of hills toward the barrenlands no one was fighting over.

Obi-Wan's blinker flashed on his com. He tapped in a short message, Cleared cell wing, regroup in 02.00.

Considering he couldn't use up all the fuel of his jetpack, it would take him those few hours to walk back.

Plenty of time to come up with an excuse as to where he had gone.

"I'm going to get you to a safe launch point and I've set in the hyperspace coordinates." Again, he took her hand, tracing her fingers lightly over the dash. Getting the message, she felt out the surrounding buttons to the right ones she would need to activate. She lingered over them, committing them to memory.

"Don't take any painkillers until you get into hyperspace. You have enough fuel so you should be alright."

"Why are you helping me?" she asked.

Because I love you, a part of him cried out. Tahl was dazzling starlight in the Force, and even blocking out his senses so he was unable to see it, he remembered the light of her. As he remembered the coldness of her passing.

Obi-Wan found it hard to fault Qui-Gon, both despite and because of the knowledge that Anakin would have succumbed to the Dark.

Qui-Gon had raised and loved Xanatos who had betrayed him. Feemor had been murdered by a Mandalorian along with a group of younglings. Xanatos both tried to bomb the Temple and everyone in it then had killed himself rather than face justice.

Qui-Gon had been brave and committed himself to Tahl, a form of marriage that was uncommon and discouraged but as traditional as the origins of the Order itself. Only for Tahl to be betrayed and taken away from him mere days later, dying in his arms.

Add to that Dooku's leaving the Order, it was no surprise that Qui-Gon had been less than gracious when it came to taking on a new Padawan tied to all the drama that Yoda stirred up when the mood took him.

"Fett?" Tahl asked, bringing back his attention to her.

He swallowed audibly and gave the answer that he hoped might help change things, though his hope wasn't great. "Because the Jetii are among the only powers in this galaxy great enough to challenge Mandalore. Death Watch wants you involved." He knew his next words could damn Satine and her family if this timeline repeated his past.

Obi-Wan had found that he had, in many ways, literally changed the course of history. But some things continued just as they had before. "The Kryze Clan wants you involved," he confided. "But you have to tell your leaders to stay out of it. The Republic wants our system in chaos so they can exploit us."

Tahl faced him and he could feel her mentally pressing at his shields.

He likely still presented as a Force sensitive. He had always been above average at shielding, but not that he fueled it with emotion, Tahl didn't have a prayer in britching his barriers.

Unfortunately, under close scrutiny, he also likely now appeared as a Dark Sider.

Tahl asked, "You're helping me in the hopes that the Order won't help you in the future?"

"You can't even tell the difference between the True Mandalorians and the Watch, how could you possibly help us? You only know our culture as far as the violence of our histories have intersected. You would only do more damage than good. Even if you could help us finally end the war, whoever you fought with would be dishonoured for relying on outside help, on Jetiiese warriors for aid. Tell your Order to stay away from us and our politics. The only reason Mandalore is a part of the Republic at all is because the Order forced us to join. To us, you're no better than the Imperial Sith."

Tahl tilted her head, and even though she was hurt and exhausted, she half smiled at him, "You know your history."

In answer, he said, "My clan leader is Jaster Mereel, the Mand'alor."

"I thought whoever had to have the Dark Saber to be the Mand'alor," she remarked. "Neither Jaster Mereel nor Jango Fett possess it."

Obi-Wan scoffed, "A trinket doesn't make the Mand'alor anymore than a crown makes a king. True power is gifted by earning the respect of the people. That's something the Vizsla Clan doesn't have, all they offer is fear and domination."

"I am beginning to think the Jedi and the True Mandalorians aren't as different as I was led to believe."

She wasn't wrong.

Force, had he missed her.

Regrettably, however, they were almost to the safe point and he only had a few minutes left in her company.

"Just promise me you will talk to your Order about us. My clan wouldn't approve of me helping you, but I know the Jetii aren't evil even if you do a lot of stupid things."

Tahl twitched.

Master Jedi were fun to pick at. Anakin had broken Obi-Wan from reacting to any such taunts long ago.

"You have my word, Mandalorian Fett. I thank you for saving my life and your wisdom."

"Good," he said in Mando'a because truly the language had become a part of him now.

"If I may give a bit of advice of my own?" Tahl offered as he slowed the ship.

He turned to her, "Sure."

She reached out a hand, and despite his helmet it was if he could feel her gentle gesture on his cheek.

The Jedi weren't overly touchy people beyond childhood because all touch between Force sensitives was incredibly intimate. It was typically impolite to touch a teenager or young Knight without their explicit consent or deep friendship.

It was one reason Obi-Wan hadn't been overly affectionate toward Anakin. Considering his background, it had been hard for Obi-Wan to gauge where Anakin gave and didn't give consent.

"Let go," Tahl said softly. "Let go of your hatred, little warrior. Whoever hurt you, whoever betrayed you, your anger hurts you more than it could ever hurt them. Like holding on to hot coals with the intent of throwing them. A fine weapon it may be, but at a severe cost to yourself."

He swallowed, her words hurting him in ways he didn't want to look at too closely. "The galaxy betrayed me," he said. "My anger is a shield against it."

She smiled, cupping his helmet though she made no motion to remove it. "Compassion is honourable, young warrior, but if you protect too fiercely, too ruthlessly, it becomes self-serving. Self-serving at the cost of everything you fight to protect."

They were the words, the lesson, that he needed to give to Anakin and had failed to do so, but for himself?

He had already lost everything. In trusting the Force, that great power, it had given him hope only to dash him against the cliffside. Blessed and cursed him in the same breath. He was sick of being its play thing, and he didn't really care if he got hurt in the process.

He had already been hurt past endurance.

He caught her hands again with his gloved ones, pulling them away from his face as he said, "You are ready to go, I'll leave some rations with you. May your flight be swift."

She nodded, "May the Force be with you."

On instinct, he almost said the correct refrain as he hit the button to the hatch, instead, he said in Mando'a, "Ret'urcye mhi."

Maybe we will meet again.

Today was one of those days he did feel blessed to meet her again, to speak with her again, even if it was brief and coloured by deceit.

She caught his hand one last time as he stood to leave, he could feel her try to share her light with him.

He almost let her.

Almost.

He pulled back from her, physically and metaphysically, disembarking into the wilds of Melida/Daan without looking back at her.

He stayed to watch the ship leave the atmosphere and let out a sigh of relief when the gleam of durasteel winked away in a successful launch into hyperspace.

Not five minutes later his buir called him and Obi-Wan took the call.

Jango's voice sounded pissed, "Where the hell are you?"

"Scouting," Obi-Wan answered.

"Obi'ika," Jango growled.

Obi-Wan smothered a smile, knowing that if he did his buir would hear it. Jango tried very, very had to be a good buir, and Obi-Wan loved him for it, but sometimes that affection was communicated through aggression.

Having raised Anakin, Obi-Wan understood all too well Jango's frustration.

Which —unfortunately for his buir— didn't mean he stopped doing the frustrating behaviour. Obi-Wan knew his place was on the front lines, whether or not Jango, Jaster, and, once upon a time, Cody, liked it.

"I'll be back before dawn. I'm safe enough. Don't waste time looking for me, I'm not lost."

He cut the connection before Jango could swear at him.

Jango was a lot more expressive than Qui-Gon had been when he was growing up.

By embracing his hatred toward the Force, Obi-Wan had accomplished something he had never been able to do before. That was to say, he was able to no longer fear not being accepted. If he didn't care what the Council thought of him, if he didn't care what the Force thought of him, then he had no reason to fear being rejected by his found family or had zero reservations against attachments.

Besides that, today he was able to breathe easier because he knew now that Jango was never going to know about his history, never going to know that he was once a Jetii, not when a Master as insightful as Master Tahl couldn't recognize him. No, his secret was safe and his path forward was clearer.

With his family, his aliit, behind him, he could walk tall no matter their adversary.

This was the Way.

AN: Thoughts, remarks, capybaras, or feedback, pretty please?