Daughter of No One: If you are missing the clones as much as I am, please give it a chance?

Chapter 22 - In the Deep

Obi-Wan woke up warm, the Force flowing around him and Jango filled with love and hesitant relief, that gave way partially as he let himself be encouraged by his buir's presence.

It wasn't that Jango wouldn't still be upset with him, or that things would be easier moving forward, but Jango was here.

He was here.

The Force coaxed him to listen.

Obi-Wan had never been so naturally gifted with the Force. Sure, he had high potential, but he had to work for it.

But he had worked so many years to block it, to let it flow free again… it was a mercy.

And kind of addictive.

The bit of worry that inspired in him, he set it aside, allowing himself to just glory and all that he had regained.

Jango woke, his sigh of relief made Obi-Wan smile even as he patted Obi-Wan's shoulder and they rose to begin their morning routine, as if everything were the same.

As if they were in hyperspace not in the Jetii Temple that had a perfectly fine mess hall.

But Obi-Wan didn't complain as he prepared a mug of tea for Jango and a cup of tea for himself. Jango prepped some rations— again, the Temple food was better, but then Obi-Wan wasn't really hungry anyway so whatever he ate was bound to taste like chalk in his mouth anyway.

All he wanted was the tea and for his buir to lose the pinching between his eyes.

They were just sitting down when Obi-Wan's comm lit up.

He answered it with just the sound, and Mace's voice greeted, —Good morning, Padawan Kenobi.

"Good morning, Master Windu."

-I wondered if you would like to join me for a morning spar?

"Yes," Obi-Wan said without thinking, he looked up to catch his buir's gaze who was quite clearly watching him.

-I will meet you in the dojo in a half an hour then.

As was typical of Mace, he hung up without a proper farewell.

Obi-Wan pocketed the comm and waited for his buir's judgment.

As the silence stretched, Jango realized that's what Obi-Wan was waiting for.

Jango hummed, "I guess you were right about them. Morning practice, they aren't so different from our people after all."

Our people.

Obi-Wan smiled, happiness filling him.

Obi-Wan was well and truly caught in puberty. But his body was different than it was from before.

He had always been small as a child, which thanks to learning about his dar'buir, he knew that was likely due to malnutrition. At eleven years old he probably could have passed well enough as an eight or nine year old. By thirteen he had stretched out, though he had still short.

In this lifetime, however, he had pushed his body to its extreme that had left its mark.

War wasn't pleasant, no matter how good he was at it, he knew it wasn't —strictly speaking— healthy.

Insomnia wasn't healthy either, nor was his loss of appetite.

Otherwise, when it came to physical abilities?

It amused him, for all the testosterone one might think Mandalorians should, Obi-Wan did so much physical training that it seemed he had partially delayed his physical growth.

Meaning?

He wasn't that awkward teen Padawan he had been yesterday year, no, Obi-Wan had control over his muscles, his stamina, and his mental fortitude.

Jango been able to kill Jedi, because he trained his muscles to move without thought, change direction in a millisecond.

Jango could keep up with the Jedi, because he trained his body to move and had trained his mind to turn every moment into a calculation of lethal intent.

And in the next moment, recalculate.

Recalculate again, and again, at every moment.

All the while, trusting his subconscious mind to direct his muscles.

It was scary figuring that out. Obi-Wan had worked so long with clones that he knew Jango was intelligent and an incredible fighter, but Jango, unlike the clones, was a killer.

Both a warrior and a Master assassin, but not a soldier, at least not in the truest sense of the word.

What was Obi-Wan?

A general.

He knew politics as well as he knew a battlefield, he knew how to direct people and he knew how to protect as well as he knew how to kill.

Obi-Wan had been good before, but a few years from now, Obi-Wan could have stepped to Dooku without concern.

So very much about him had changed. Obi-Wan would classify his own fighting style much like that of a feral half-starved tooka. His own motions were erratic, fast, and spiteful.

If he pulled a weapon on someone, he wasn't doing it for show but survival. Even Jango was more playful than Obi-Wan.

The chaos in Obi-Wan's soul made him want to cause pain, to defeat, to rend, and tear anything in reach. If he played with someone, it was because they had done something worthy of a slow death.

While these were basic accolades for a Mandalorian and excusable for a general; these were not good qualities for a Jedi Padawan.

And now that he had donned robes and was practicing his katas again, he felt like he had betrayed everything he had once held so dear.

Just like Siri and Bant had said.

It felt strange to have a lightsaber in his hand.

Stranger still, it was Mace's saber. The purple kyber crystal wasn't damaged like the last saber he had held, which he learned had been put to rest in his false funeral. No, this crystal was, curious, about Obi-Wan.

It was neither repulsed nor attracted to his own Force signature, but it also wasn't unwelcoming. This saber would cede to being wielded by him so long as he remained respectful.

Obi-Wan tried to think of who he wanted to be as he went through the long unused katas of Form I. Even with the memories he had lost, it was impossible for him to forget this form.

Even though he had never precisely mastered it like Kit Fisto had, this was the first form any youngling learned.

And all forms began from the one.

The trouble was, Obi-Wan didn't know who wanted to be.

He didn't want to become twisted by the Dark Side.

He didn't want to become the man who failed Anakin.

He didn't want to be the last Jedi in a galaxy torn asunder.

But those were all negatives, things he did not want, but what he wanted was harder to put into words.

He wanted to be a Jedi, but that was a what not a who.

He missed the simplicity of war.

"And here I thought the Jetiiese would teach you how to focus," Jango called, from where he stood with Mace and Qui-Gon.

Not many people had come to visit Obi-Wan, namely Tahl and Feemor. He thought that might be in an attempt to not overwhelm him.

Obi-Wan spun out in a proper Ataru leap. He used the Force not just for lift but also for speed.

The amethyst blade cast the shock on his buir's face into dramatic contrast as it hummed an inch from his throat.

Obi-Wan grinned, immensely satisfied to have surprised Jango.

His buir typically knew his limits better than he did. As much as Obi-Wan contributed to the war effort, Jango was the one who kept him going. Kept him from burning himself out.

But now that Obi-Wan wasn't using a truly monumental effort to keep his gifts at bay, things were different.

With the Force, he was limitless.

Jango had trained his ad'ika to the best of his ability, and Obi'ika was a more dedicated student than any buir could possibly conceive of.

But over the last four, nearly five years, he had never once been afraid of his ad.

Afraid for him, almost every moment of every day, but never of him.

Between the three of them Jaster, Jango, and Obi-Wan, Jango knew himself to be the most dangerous. Granted, Jaster was the better leader and Obi'ika the better general.

But for a second, Jango doubted that verdict.

Jango had had no doubts that Obi-Wan would grow up to be a better warrior than himself. But that was years from now and Jango would also bet on himself over any Jetii.

But right now, in the present moment, looking into the joyous lust for chaos in Obi'ika's grey-blue eyes, he realized he didn't know his ad's potential at all.

He also saw what the Jetiiese Masters had been fussing over when they learned Obi-Wan had cut himself off from the Force.

He had been willing and ready to dismiss the threat of the 'Dark Side' but that was before he saw the cruel curl of Obi'ika's lips as he stared up at Jango was smug satisfaction of catching Jango off guard.

Obi'ika, despite knowing his value on the battlefield, remained annoyingly humble about his skills and importance to the clan.

There was nothing humble or playful in Obi'ika's mood now.

He glimpsed this at times, had seen it in Obi'ika's depressive moments or when he was beyond tired, a tightly bridled fury that wanted nothing more than a distraction.

Jango had to be careful when Obi-Wan got like this, he would supervise his ad as he went through katas and trained in a fashion that made Jango feel exhausted just witnessing. When Obi-wan waned a bit, Jango would find the moment he could drag his son to bed with the hopes he could sleep.

He rarely pressed the issue, despite how little sleep he was getting because pent up rage wasn't good for anyone.

Now he had wondered if that rage was him or was that the darkness driving him?

What felt like a decade of his life passed as Obi-Wan extinguished the lightsaber. Grinning up at him, his son coming back into focus.

Jango was out of his depth.

So out of his depth.

Obi-Wan was dangerous, and his control?

He didn't have it.

Obi-Wan frowned at him, "Buir?"

Jango shook himself, "You're fast, ad'ika."

Obi-Wan's smile came back, "I have the Force, and I had you as a trainer."

Jango forced himself to smirk, ruffling Obi-Wan's hair, and said, "That you did."

But what he was thinking was that he didn't teach him restraint or how to hold back or how not to give into blood lust.

Those had never been problems his ad'ika true signs of, but with a foreign power energizing him, influencing his thoughts, his actions…

Karking hells the Jedi had been right.

Jango hadn't understood the Jetiiese, not their fears for their young nor the reasoning behind their ways.

But seeing his own son's personality be altered before his own eyes, seeing how much potential he had yet to use…

Yeah, he was beginning to.

Mace could see the gears shifting in Jango's gaze as he finally got a clue as to what a Force sensitive could do.

But even Mace was trying to reconcile what he knew of Obi-Wan and what he had become. He was no longer a youngling, this Obi-Wan had been caught at war and trained by two of the galaxy's greatest warriors.

Jedi Knights weren't trained for that, they were trained to protect, not kill.

And yet, that was what Obi-Wan had undergone.

Mace approached them before Jango gave away the epiphany he was having. "Ready to practice, Padawan?"

Obi-Wan turned to him, the Force, both dark and light swirling around him.

Oddly enough, the shatter points around him were fewer.

Last time Jango had seen him at the Temple on Coruscant, Obi-Wan had had few personal shatter points, but many that were tied to things outside of him. By many, he meant uncountable, and now that he knew Obi-Wan what had changed, he understood those.

And those shatter points that dictated the galaxy's destiny had mostly receded, fading as the realities of them ran their course.

The Jedi Order changing and Mandalore being brought to peace, that had doubtless had changed the future, and now they were well and truly out of Obi-Wan's hands.

The burdens of the galaxy no longer rested on Obi-Wan. However, the boy had pushed himself to the edge and the shatter points he saw now were fractured, already points buckling.

Which was not surprising, not given everything Obi-Wan had been through.

"I didn't think we were doing anything more than katas today," Obi-Wan said, offering Mace back his lightsaber.

Mace smiled and shook his head, "You said that Qui-Gon was your Master, I would like to see how much of his teaching transcended."

Qui-Gon asked, "Would you do me the honour of a spar, Padawan Kenobi?"

Obi-Wan's smile was bittersweet. He bowed to Qui-Gon, "It would be my honour, Master."

The two walked to the centre of the field, Mace stood shoulder to shoulder with Jango. When the two sabers engaged, Mace said under his breath, "Are you alright?"

"How much can the Dark side change him?" the Mandalorian asked quietly but furtively, never taking his eyes off Obi-Wan.

"If he loses control," Mace answered honestly, "all of him could be overwhelmed. The Force gives us strength, but the Dark seeks chaos. Both Dark and Light act through a Jedi and it is a Jedi's responsibility to find balance within ourselves and to not allow ourselves to be ruled by emotions."

Jango glanced at him, "So you train to have no emotions?"

"No, we train not to act on them. For you, perhaps rage and the need for victory are motivators, help you focus, but the Force would magnify everything you feel because you would be connecting yourself to a galaxy of anger and pain. Driven more rage than you could ever incur in a single lifetime, what would you do; what could you do?"

Jango looked at him with hard eyes, then looked back at Obi-Wan who was circling with Qui-Gon, neither choosing to be the first to act.

"I would burn the galaxy to ash," Jango said, tone light as if he spoke of something completely mundane.

"Then you understand," Mace said.

"No," Jango said. "I don't, but I endeavour to."

The first clash of sabers drew Mace's attention back to the duel. Qui-Gon had broken and attacked first, in a show Ataru that was as it always had been.

Impressive.

Qui-Gon was never able to match his Master Dooku, but Dooku's form was specific to other lightsaber wielders. Which meant that Qui-Gon had spent his entire apprenticeship duelling against a Master who had been trained by Yoda.

Which meant Qui-Gon wasn't the Order's best, but he was most certainly one of their best.

Even Mace found Qui-Gon challenging, having been trained by Yoda as well, Qui-Gon's size changed the Ataru from aggressive to what amounted to a one man battalion. Not that Yoda wasn't perfectly capable of taking on a battalion.

In contrast, Obi-Wan was on the defensive, his motions erratic. He kept pace Qui-Gon's blows, but he was constantly backing up.

It was perhaps what one might expect from a Jedi initiate who had been away from the Order for so many years. Mace couldn't see any of Qui-Gon's style or teachings in Obi-Wan's erratic motions.

Mace thought this, until Qui-Gon slipped, the angle of Obi-Wan's blade forcing him off balance.

The fight changed in the blink of an eye, and Mace felt his astonishment grow as Obi-Wan settled into using a saber —an unweighted blade— again.

Mace, being who he was, should have recognized the form, but in his own defence, most practitioners —especially young practitioners— of Juyo did not retreat.

And when Qui-Gon stumbled again, Obi-Wan went on the offensive.

Qui-Gon quit flipping as he tried to defend against the blurring speed Obi-Wan delivered his blows.

In hindsight, Mace had seen Obi-Wan wield a blade against a Sith Lord and be victorious, but Obi-Wan had been using everything he had and the Force had been with him.

But in a spar, where the stakes were not life and death, Mace could identify the form.

Which begged the question, how did a Jedi Initiate raised by Mandalorians master Form VII?

And it couldn't have been from the future because Obi-Wan said he had been a Master of Soresu, not Juyo. Mace also knew with absolute certainty that Qui-Gon would never have trained any of his apprentices in that form.

Qui-Gon's blade went wide and in one graceful motion, Obi-Wan knocked the emerald blade away, using the butt of Mace's saber to the side of Qui-Gon's palm, as he foot swept the much taller man.

The end result?

Was an amethyst blade pointed at Qui-Gon's throat. The man was out of breath while Obi-Wan looked surprised the spar was over already.

Obi-Wan disengaged his saber and held his hand down to Qui-Gon. The Master offered him a strained smile and allowed himself to be pulled to his feet.

"Well done, Padawan Kenobi. I see Mace's line will continue to attract some of our finest warriors," Qui-Gon said, easily shrugging away any outwards side fo distress.

Obi-Wan looked a little chagrined, "I didn't think my skills with a lightsaber would return so readily."

Qui-Gon raised a brow, summoning his own saber back to his hand, "Is that so?"

Mace frowned, "I would say you were close to mastering Juyo."

Obi-Wan stilled, "No— I, no. I never studied that form. I studied its weaknesses, but I never… I learned Soresu to fight against Juyo."

"Well, in this life, you have been studying it, ner ad'ika," Jango said, crossing his arms with a smug smile.

"What?" Obi-Wan asked the man flatly.

Jango shrugged, "I noticed when we first took you in that you preferred to practice katas rather than strength training and learning from spars. The closest thing I could find to Jaster's style of fighting were holos of Juyo. I modified them to fit hand to hand fighting and taught you them."

"You taught me Juyo?" Obi-Wan asked, sounding outraged.

The Force stirred around him darkly.

Jango frowned at him, "Yes. I don't see why you're upset, ner ad. It's a Jetii fighting form and you are a Jedi."

"Dar'jetii!" Obi-Wan exploded. "It's dar'jetii, Buir! The forms are more than mere fighting techniques! They are moving meditations! And you had me training, meditating within the Dark Side!"

Mace winced, wondering how hard Obi-Wan had had to fight not to use the Force in a form that's entire purpose was surrendering to the Force. It wasn't taught at the Temple because it encouraged one to open themselves up to the Dark Side of the Force. To meditate on that, while keeping the Force out…

That would be like purposely antagonizing the Force.

Mace wasn't even sure how the Force would respond to such— teasing, especially from a Jedi the Force had chosen to embrace and take back in time of its own volition.

There would be a price for that, and Mace, regrettably, believed that he would learn in detail the price Obi-Wan had indeed paid.

"How could I have known that?" Jango asked, his mouth dry. "If I had known your background, I might have known to be-"

"You didn't even research it, did you!?" Obi-Wan yelled. "No, of course not, because all Jetiiese are fools and there couldn't possibly be meaning behind our practises!"

"Watch. Your. Tone," Jango growled.

Obi-Wan had never raised his voice at him before, much less yelled. Obi-Wan sassed, he argued, but he never yelled. Merely raising his voice was an indication of extreme agitation.

Obi-Wan growled right back at him, "You have no concept of how dangerous the Force is."

Mace stepped in, "Enough, Padawan."

Obi-Wan was brought up short and though his blue-grey eyes still glimmered with fury, he was back in control.

"Obi-Wan, you know my own form is Form VII," Mace said voice hard. "Knowing Juyo will make learning Vaapad far easier for you. Vaapad, for all that it is aggressive, is a defensive form."

Obi-Wan let out a harsh breath, "Fine."

Jango felt his heart crack, what had he done?

Worry swamped him that he had made an error that had made his ad'ika's sitution infinitely worse than it already was.

Mace exchanged a worried look with Qui-Gon, before he said, "Let's go through the traditional Juyo katas with a lightsaber and then I walk you through those for Vaapad."

Obi-Wan nodded and Qui-Gon passed his lightsaber to Mace as walked back into the centre of the dojo.

Mace felt Jango's distress in the Force. He looked back at the man who had unclipped his helmet from his belt so he could pull it back on, a shining Mandalorian in the halls of the Jedi.

As unreadable as the most stoic Jedi.

Obi-Wan, however, did not look back, nor did he apologize to Jango.

Mace worried, then, worried that Obi-Wan was far more entrenched in the Dark Side of the Force than originally imagined.

This path would indeed be a long one.

AN: Thoughts, baby octopi riding jellyfish (yes, that's a real thing), or feedback pretty please?