KEYnote: Some time has passed and Obi-Wan, like this chapter, is fourteen now :D
Thank you, Sectumus Prince! I highly recommend their works!
Chapter 14 - Dancing With Disaster
Obi-Wan had his legs swept out beneath him, and he grunted as he hit the ground and quickly rolled away from the next blow. Coming to his feet, Obi-Wan threw a kick, then jerked away from Jango's returning fist, then hit back.
And on and on they went, until he felt as if he was slipping in his own sweat.
"Enough, Obi'ika," Jango finally called. "You need to work on finding your limits."
"War doesn't have limits," Obi-Wan said, stuffing his anger down deep.
Jango sighed and gave him a look he couldn't comprehend.
"What?" Obi-Wan asked.
Jango shook his head. "Obi'ika, you don't always have to give everything. We are a clan, we take care of each other."
Obi-Wan frowned. "Are you asking me not to try?"
"I'm asking you to not always act like everything is life or death. You push yourself too hard."
"But we are at war and it is life or death, literally."
Jango sighed again. "I know, but you don't have to take on as much responsibility as you do."
Guilt churned in Obi-Wan's gut. "You don't want me to fight?"
"No," Jango said, gripping his shoulder. "I just don't want you to feel that if we lose, if something happens… It just feels… I feel at times that if the galaxy were to fall, you would blame yourself. You are one person."
"One person can do a lot," Obi-Wan said, stuffing down his bitterness.
Anakin had helped destroy the Jedi.
Jango had created millions of clones to both fight a false war and carry out a genocide.
Chancellor Palpatine had orchestrated a civil war and turned the Republic into an Empire.
And Obi-Wan had failed in stopping any of it.
Hell, he still hadn't even figured out how to assassinate Palpatine. Naboo and Coruscant were well out of the way, and killing Sith was a tricky business.
Especially as he kept having dreams recently of Darth Maul coming back to life with a spider butt and stabbing Satine while Obi-Wan watched. The next time he killed a Sith, he was burning the body.
His memory was a strange thing. What he knew of his possible future was like a list of facts; there were very few memories he had that he could remember vividly. He couldn't remember what it felt like to be older, though he felt as if his head had been clearer than now. Anything from before the time travel felt dim, a text he had memorized but not lived. That included his childhood at the Temple.
In a very real way, Jango was his past, present, and future.
The only exceptions were the nightmares that were either his subconscious putting him through hell or unwanted Force visions, or perhaps a mix of both.
"Obi'ika," Jango called.
Obi-Wan raised his gaze.
Jango motioned to him. "That's what I'm talking about. If you put too much pressure on anything, eventually it breaks, including yourself, your body, and your mind. If you're always pushing yourself past your limits, when you need your reserves most, you'll have nothing left to draw from."
Except what his buir didn't understand was that this was his second chance.
Mandalore wasn't stable yet. The Jedi Order was doing better culturally and as a people, but the Republic was still doomed and would still take the Order down with it. Darth Sidious and Darth Maul were still kicking. Obi-Wan didn't even know who Sidious's Sith Master was or if they were still alive, nor did he know where Anakin was.
Really, the only things he had done were preemptively expose Xanatos, keep Jaster alive, stop the Galidraan tragedy from happening, somehow change the makeup of the Jedi Council, save Feemor, and been a true pain in the sheb to Death Watch.
But that wasn't enough, not by half.
Jango let out a heavy sigh, placed both hands on Obi-Wan's shoulders, and brought their foreheads together with a dull thunk, not hard enough to hurt, but enough for him to understand his buir wanted his full attention.
Mando's actually did quite a bit of training to develop neck muscles to do a kalebe or headbutt in combat, especially females, who typically didn't bulk up around the neck as easily. This was to prevent injury, mainly whiplash, that could cause concussions. Beskar did a good job of absorbing and reflecting energy, but that didn't mean punching with your head was the safest idea.
Kind of like punching with an iron fist, yet also with a weak wrist: you were just as likely to hurt yourself as your opponent.
Jango raised his head and bumped Obi-Wan's forehead a second time.
Obi-Wan gave his buir a chagrined smile.
"Your mind, Obi'ika, is so unfocused. I can see your thoughts racing in your eyes. You are going to burn yourself out, and you're going to start making mistakes if you can't focus on the moment in front of you."
Obi-Wan bit his tongue but couldn't stop his eye roll.
The universe was indeed a strange place when Jango Fett was giving the same advice as Master Qui-Gon Jinn.
Although, to be fair to both, Qui-Gon was no more your average Jedi than Jango was your average Mando.
Jango pulled back with a laugh, ruffling his hair. "All right, my little foundling, for that you can help your ba'buir with paperwork, after you have showered."
"Buir—" Obi-Wan protested.
"Nope, I'm not taking your sass. If you were normal, I would make you do an extra hour of practice, but for you, that's just encouragement."
Obi-Wan groaned, "Why does he even have paperwork? We've never had to do any before."
"Because now it's a matter of state. Elections are being held tomorrow."
"Yeah," Obi-Wan said petulantly, ignoring the logic so he could grouse, "but you said Mandalore wasn't a democracy."
"It doesn't have to be a complete democracy for the people to decide how their system moves forward. The clan leaders are gathering to choose between two forms of government: a Royal line checked by a parliament represented by an elected Prime Minister, or a three-branch system of a Council of Elders, a Prime Minister, and the Mand'alor."
The Council Elders would actually function much as the Royal family would, as it would be made out of respected saviors from capital cities and the larger clans.
So few Mandalorians made it to their sunset years that Agni, who was only in his late fifties, was considered an elder. To even have a council of elders was actually counter-cultural. Yes, elders were respected and revered for their knowledge and possible wisdom, but there was also a stereotype of elders being cowardly or weak to not have died in battle. Age-ism was one-hundred percent a thing in the Mandalore System.
However, it also acted as a counterweight to the history of the Mand'alor. While meant to be an earned honour, it was often passed down through killing one's predecessor.
Having the Mand'alor as a political position was like begging for assassination attempts or lethal challenges.
The reason that there was a three-branch government structure at all in that scenario was so the Prime Minister wasn't left as king on the mountain during any possible 'transitions' of power.
"Come, Obi'ika, go take a shower," Jango said.
Obi-Wan nodded, acknowledging, at least to himself, that his thoughts were disruptive and unclear.
Giving up daily meditations, something he had prioritized over sleep in his old life, was having an impact. Compounded with his shielding that only ever slipped in his sleep, he knew he was dancing with disaster.
But Mandalore was almost stable, and he was building enough dirt on Palpatine to damn him before the entirety of the galaxy.
He just needed a bit more time and whatever personal damage he had come to would have been worth it.
Jaster watched his bu'ad with a conflicted heart.
"Where did you learn how to do paper work?" Jaster asked, resigned to whatever lie his bu'ad might give.
He loved his grandchild, truly and wholeheartedly, but unlike Jango, he knew with certainty that Obi'ika was holding out on them.
What bothered Jaster more than the verbal lies, however, were the ones in the practice rink. He had yet to figure out how his bu'ad managed to hold back yet push himself beyond his natural limits—literally, until his feet were blistered and his knuckles bleeding.
Yet Jaster could sense, for lack of a better word, Obi'ika holding out on them.
Obi'ika hummed. "Ner vod, Cody. He was military and had very specific standards. Tedious, but the format made review simpler."
"They trusted you at ten years old to do this?"
Obi'ika shrugged. "I've always been good at my studies. Besides, Cody checked everything over."
Jaster had initially done that too, but now whenever Obi'ika helped him, he had the ad'ika check his work.
"What was Cody like?" Jaster asked.
Obi'ika's gaze went distant. "He was the best. At everything, really. He was the definition of steadfast."
"Jan'ika says that your remembrances at night are very long," Jaster said. He hated to push, remembrances were private affairs, but Jaster was growing tired of his bu'ad's lies and evasions.
He could have kept his secrets if he wasn't so clearly fraying at the edges; getting him to finish meals and sleep past four hours was becoming increasingly difficult. Sure, legally Obi'ika was an adult, but Jaster wasn't afraid of taking Jan'ika by the ear if he had to. His bu'ad wasn't getting away with this behavior indefinitely.
Obi'ika stilled and didn't look up immediately.
"Obi'ika," Jaster sighed. "We are worried about you, whatever burdens you are carrying… you don't need to bear it alone."
Obi-Wan remained quiet for a long moment, before looking up, his eyes the shade of darkest storm clouds before the rain released. "I'm losing my memories."
That was not what Jaster anticipated him to say, and although it might be another evasion of sorts, he could see the real fear in his eyes. "You are young, bu'ad. No matter how dear or traumatic your past was, it is natural for things to fade."
Obi'ika's lips thinned before he blurted, "But I remember in my dreams, and it's like it hits me all over again. Like each loss is fresh and new even if I couldn't remember the sound of their voices or even their names before falling asleep."
Which at least explained the nightmares.
"That is trauma, Obi'ika," Jaster said gently. He reached out slowly, touching two fingers to his bu'ad's temple. "Your mind is ready to move on, but your heart—" Jaster tapped over his breastplate. "Your heart will never forget those it once loved."
"So what do I do?" Obi-Wan asked, his frustration and desperation clear.
"You let go of the notion that you are fine. It is okay to remember, it is okay to forget. Those who loved you then and who love you now don't want to see you suffer, but it is okay to mourn them. Whether you remember their names or their faces, they are always going to be a part of who you are today."
"And you think that will just magically make the nightmares go away?"
Jaster frowned at him, chucking him under the chin for the tone. "No, not magic. Night terrors are not uncommon, and they are not your fault, but the more you fight them, the more you try to shove aside the pain and the fear, the longer they will continue. You may not realize it, but in shoving down your emotions, you are holding on tighter to them. Let go, Obi'ika."
"You sound like a Jetii," Obi'ika said bitterly.
Jaster caught Obi-Wan's chin in his hand, holding him still as he searched his face, looking for the source of that bitterness. Obi'ika was kind, hard-working, tea-drinking, and a mastermind tactician, but as the years passed the boy had grown angrier, a shadow casting over his bright mind.
On one hand, it could be puberty. On the other hand, Jaster was betting it had to do with his secrets. So much didn't add up about his past.
His past military experience on Mandalore that was, by Jaster's estimation, too formal to Death Watch.
His friendship with Kiffar.
His Basic accent being central Core…
"Why do you dislike the Jetii so, Obi'ika?" Jaster asked as he watched the boy's expression smooth over into an unreadable mask.
"Why do you?" Obi'ika shot back.
"Why do you think I hate them?" Jaster returned question for question. Not that Obi-Wan wasn't wrong, but he didn't dislike the Jetiiese beyond reason. He couldn't deny the help they had given to Koska, nor the generosity they had shown in taking Chakraborty and Koska's sisters.
"You didn't want Koska going to them for aid," Obi'ika said.
"No, but dislike is not the same as hate. Hate is foolish, intolerance is foolishness, it dissuades one from reason."
"We hate the Watch."
Jaster raised a brow, letting go of his chin. "Yes, but they are terrorists, Obi'ika. I will never tolerate violence against innocents."
Obi-Wan nodded, looking away. "I don't hate them—the Jetiiese, I mean."
"But you are angry with them," Jaster pushed.
Obi-Wan let out a harsh breath through his teeth. "Not them."
"Then who?" Jaster asked.
Obi'ika's fists tightened so much that Jaster plucked the stylus from his hand before he broke it.
Finally, Obi'ika said, keeping his face turned away, "Myself."
"Why?" Jaster asked.
"Because it's my fault my people died, my ori'vod, my Cody, my—" He broke off, clenching his jaw. "What happened to them was my fault. If I had the Force, if I was better, they would still be all right."
Jaster softened. "Obi'ika, there is no magic in this galaxy that can prevent death, it is a part of life." He wanted to tell him he was too young for these burdens, but telling Obi'ika he was too young for anything was never an argument that ever held water with him. So instead he said, "All we can ever do is the best we can with as much information as we have."
"Good intentions do not make correct actions," Obi-Wan said, looking up at Jaster with eyes that were too world-wary.
"Now who sounds like the Jetii?" Jaster said, pulling his bu'ad into a hug. "Give yourself time to grow, to heal, ner bu'ad. You are not the only one in this clan with night terrors, nor are you alone."
Obi'ika hugged him back and asked in a quiet tone, "Do you have them?"
Jaster nodded. "Yes, I did. I was a foundling, too, you know. My aliit were also killed in old clan wars."
"How'd you get rid of them?"
Jaster sighed, resting his cheek on Obi'ika's soft hair. "I traded them in for new ones. About the time I adopted Jan'ika, the future what-ifs mattered more to me than my past."
"How do you not have night terrors about that?"
Jaster chuckled, pulling back to look into his bu'ad's face. "We are warriors, Obi'ika, if you have no faith in the future, what is there to fight for? Bad things will happen, but so do good things." He mussed the boy's hair. "Like becoming your ba'buir."
That earned him a smile.
Jaster grinned back. "Come, let's go get supper, lest I be described as the most boring ba'buir in history and you convince my own clan to vote against me."
"It's all right," Obi'ika said. "It was Jango's punishment. Besides, you would be lost without me—your division skills are terrible, and you leave off a lot of unit descriptions. Whoever reads it is going to order you five hundred bombs and ten recharges."
"Cheeky adi'ka," Jaster muttered before saying, "One can never have enough bombs."
"Recharges are more important, aside from naval battles," Obi'ika sassed back.
"Well, I'm glad you enjoy being correct all the time, ner bu'ad, because I'm going to assign you as my secretary if I win tomorrow."
"I hope you lose," Obi'ika deadpanned.
Jaster nodded sagely. "Of course, in that case, I could always hire you out to Adonai. I'm sure he would love some additional support."
"Ba'bier," Obi'ika groaned.
Jaster threw his back and laughed.
The Kryze girls couldn't be more opposite, even at this age. Satine wore a turquoise gown with white and gold embroidery, her family crest on a necklace.
While Bo-Katan had a full set of Beskar armour.
So young, and yet their philosophies were so clear.
Funnily enough, Satine Kryze was not at all impressed with Obi-Wan for this 'first' meeting. But, of course, Satine knew lots of Mandalorians, while last time he had been the first Jetii Padawan she had ever met.
Bo-Katan Kryze was the complete opposite. She questioned Obi-Wan about being the Mand'alor's bu'ad.
"You are so lucky to live with the most epic person ever!"
"Bo!" Satine finally cut in.
Micah was cough-laughing at what Bo had said incorrectly. Bo had been trying to sign as she spoke, but what she ended up with was: 'You are the luckiest living person to get bombed!'
Satine was better at signing, though she had to slow her speech and used a simpler vocabulary, and clearly couldn't read sign because she missed her sister's gaf.
Satine continued, "Jaster Mereel is running against our father."
Bo shrugged. "If you want to be a politician, run for Prime Minister. I hope Jaster wins, because I am going to be the next Mand'alor when I grow up."
Obi-Wan punched Micah's shoulder before the older boy could laugh again.
Bo was trying to make the sign for an exclamation, but she kept throwing out her thumb. She also reversed the sign for adult and child. So this time she had said, 'I'm going to blow up the Mand'alor when I'm a child.'
'Don't be mean,' Obi-Wan signed to Micah.
Micah signed back with a single hand, and quicker, so the girls were less likely to understand. 'Come on, this is comedy gold.'
Obi-Wan rolled his eyes. 'You live with Maas now, you have enough comedy.'
Micah grinned, pushing back his ebony hair from his face, signing covertly, 'Truth.'
Satine was glaring at both of them, and signed angrily, 'What are you saying?'
Obi-Wan held finger over his lips to silence them, then signed. 'The vote is about to be announced.'
Satine huffed, sitting in her chair and crossed her arms.
Obi-Wan was pretty sure he had fallen in love with this girl because she was near fearless, and honourable to her code. But that was at nineteen, not fourteen, when she was arguably more beautiful and less… churlish.
Though the latter was not something wished away for her, because that had been after a near decade of clan warfare.
As things stood now, as the room fell quiet to listen to the announcement on the future Mandalore would take.
Elections being held at a peaceful gathering of the clans on Mandalore proper. Mandalore that today still had clean ground, unpoisoned waters, and even forests that remained in certain sectors. It was a change so stark from the alternate reality Obi-Wan dimly remembered that it was humbling.
The years of warfare, turning away from the Jedi Order, and becoming family with Jango Fett had changed the fate of the entire system, and possibly the galaxy at large.
Obi-Wan took a moment to be proud, to even be thankful for the opportunity to enter this fight again, to fight for the things and the people he believed in and righting the wrongs of his own people, the Jedi.
The thing about irony, about the what-ifs and could have beens, is that there comes a moment of lightning clarity. A flash in the dark where the phrase 'I told you so' becomes tangible.
If Obi-Wan had been using the first, he would have sensed his danger.
Had Micah not trusted Obi-Wan, he would have kept his helmet on that had extra scanner sensors to compensate for his hearing disability.
If Andonai had trained his daughters better.
Ultimately, if Obi-Wan hadn't been fighting against his metaphysical senses, he would have been more alert.
But as it was, by the time he could have reacted, the needle was already in his neck, a cloth over his mouth.
He tried to kick his chair, to make as much noise as possible, but a Mandalorian caught the chair. Obi-Wan saw the same fate befall Micah, Satine, and Bo-Katan.
Obi-Wan's last thought was that Jango was going to attempt to burn down the galaxy again, and this time it would be his fault.
"By the United Clans of the Mandalore System, Andonai Kryze and his bid for Duke and Parliament Government loses the vote."
A chaos of groans went up, and Jango grinned behind his helmet as Adonai's shoulders sagged.
"Therefore, it is my great honour to announce that the Mandalore System will continue as a Constitutional Timocracy. By honour and merit, the first branch will be represented by the earned warrior title Mand'alor, currently held by Jaster Mereel; the second branch will be checked by the elders, who will be appointed by the major clans; and the third branch, represented by a Prime Minister, who will be the voice of a parliamentary voted in by the populace of those on the Mandalore System."
Jango roared his own approval along with the crowd that rose to ruckus applause.
Jaster took a bow, then shook hands with Adonai, who rose so they could clasp each other's forearms.
"Would you look at that?" Agni said with a smile in voice. "A peaceful transfer of power on Mandalore."
Jango's reply was lost when he looked up to the balcony where the foundlings were. He couldn't see Obi-Wan, or Micah, or the Kryze girls.
Nor did he see Myles and Sinna, who were meant to be guarding them.
Jango didn't stop to think as he activated his jetpack.
The cheering died down as the clans watched him. He was at the balcony in seconds where there were obvious signs of struggle.
"Myles! Sinna!" Jango called. Jaster was at his side in moments, giving orders into the comms.
"Their trackers have been disconnected," Agni said.
"Myles!" Jaster exclaimed as they came into the hall connecting to the balcony.
Myles lay collapsed on the floor, his helmet discarded as he bled from a neck wound. Sinna had a hand to the wound, and when she looked up at them, her eyes were completely blown, indicating she had been drugged, along with the dash of blood on her forehead. Her helmet looked as if it had been torn off and stolen.
Which meant whoever had taken his son had access to their comms.
Jango cursed and signed over the codes necessary to disable Sinna's comms.
"Go! I have them," Agni said as he pulled the medkit he had brought with in anticipation of today's vote.
A vote that had gone without a hitch.
That was, until the terrorist organization they had chased out of the Mandalore system decided to steal the ade from the two clans who were about to step into government.
Death Watch just couldn't take a loss with grace. Jango was going to eradicate every last member, sans their ade, from the galaxy. There was no corner dark enough, no place far enough, to save them from the wrath that was about to befall them.
AN: Thoughts, phonetic foxes, or feedback pretty please?