WARNING: PTSD scene of Mandalorians.

Dedication: I would like to dedicate this chapter to my own karking overactive imagination and research. I did not plan to rip out my own heart, but here take it, enjoy my suffering. I'm going to go make some sugary coffee and break into my horde of dark chocolate now.

Chapter 5 - Worthless

Baar'ur Mij Gilamar had been a doctor before joining his wife in becoming a Mandalorian medic.

He had continued to follow Mand'alor Jaster, and his adiik, Jango long after his wife's murder.

But Jaster and Jango were gone, as was the majority of their clan.

Therefore, when he got the message from Silas of two incoming patients, one of them an ad'ika, he was not expecting his lost Mand'alor to stride down the plank of Myles's ship.

Jango smiled at him, "Su cuy'gar, Mij."

Mij stepped forward to grab the man in an embrace. "You bastard."

"Missed you too," Jango said with a laugh.

"What in the karking hells happened to you?" Mij asked, pulling back.

"The governor didn't execute him, they sold him into slavery," Myles said.

"No, don't give him that much credit, it was Vizsla's idea," Jango said.

"And here I thought killing a Vizsla couldn't get anymore fun," Wad'e said, stepping forward to greet Jango as well.

"Where's the adiik?" Mij asked, looking Jango over, already mentally preparing to do surgery to remove any slave chips.

Jango stepped to the side, revealing the child that had been hiding behind him.

He looked young, a lanky twelve or thirteen year old. His face was fair, but his beauty was marred by the oversized slave collar around his neck.

An elctro-collar.

Hot rage filled Mij as he continued to look the boy over.

"Mij, Wad'e, this Obi-Wan Kenobi, Obi'ika, this Mij Gilamar our baar'ur, our healer. And this is Wad'e—"

"Who the hell named you Obi-Wan Kenobi?" Wad'e asked, angrily.

The adiik flinched back from him.

"Wad'e," Jango snapped.

Wad'e held up his hands, "Sorry, ad'ika, that name reflects poorly on your buire."

Obi-Wan nodded but remained tense at Jango's side.

Mij had to bite his tongue to keep from demanding to see Obi-Wan on his ship. His only comforts were that the adiik seemed to trust Jango and that someone placed bacta patches around his neck under the collar.

Jango turned to the child, "Obi'ika, I own nothing right now. There isn't much to show you at camp, are you ready for Mij to see you?"

The adiik looked up at the Mand'alor with an odd expression, "I thought you said they were going to get the collar off?"

"It's made of Beskar, Obi-Wan," Jango said. "Wad'e is going to have to figure out how to deactivate it before he can work on it."

Mij felt his mouth go dry, "Why would anyone use that kind of collar on an adiik?"

It was a life-sentence of slavery. Only a Mandalorian blacksmith and technician could take one off without the certainty of killing the wearer.

Jango put a hand gently on Obi-Wan's shoulder, "Well, Obi-Wan freed himself from Zygerrians and freed us both from pirates, so perhaps their paranoia of their own inferiority was well founded."

Obi-Wan spared Jango a half smile, more to thank him for his effort than any real feeling of comfort.

Mij wondered then how old the boy really was.

Wad'e was all business when he said, "Let Mij take a look at you, I'll get some preliminary scans and have my droid to run some similitaltions on a model. We will leave nothing to chance."

Obi-Wan sighed but nodded, not moving until Jango did.

Mij nodded and went ahead to set up, trusting Jango to follow him.

"How old are you?" Mij asked when Jango had Obi-Wan settled on the cot.

"Sixteen."

Mij kept his gaze down on his datapad to hide his reaction.

He was off by four years. Which spoke to how malnourished he was. The worrying thought that it had been done on purpose to keep him small made anger pulse beneath his skin.

Mij had to swallow before he could speak again. "How long have—"

"Three years."

"Where are from?" Mij asked, looking up to watching the adiik's pupils.

"Coruscant."

"Where are your people from?" he asked.

Obi-Wan shrugged, "I don't know."

Mij knew immediately that he was lying and set up a blood test.

Mij held out his hand for Obi-Wan's, which he gave and Mij pricked with a thumb stick.

"Are you human?" Mij asked.

"As far as I know," Obi-Wan answered.

The results that popped up next explained a lot.

And no, he wasn't human, not entirely at any rate.

Stewjoni's were technically a Mandalorian race, and it explained the use of the collar.

Despite the reputation of Stewjoni prostitutes, they were Mandalorian enough to kill rather than submit to slavery, and were rarely if ever found outside of the Mandalorian system for that reason despite their value on the market.

But if as a Kenobi, he perhaps didn't have much exposure to Stewjoni culture, meaning that he had been left to fend for himself and his biology all on his own.

This kid was going to need all the therapy. Which during the war wasn't going to be easy to achieve. Mandalore's civil population was scattered to the winds right now.

"Would you remove your shirt please?" Mij asked as he finished entering in his notes.

Obi-Wan hesitated but with a long suffering sigh, began undressing.

Mij was appalled at the scar tissue and his imagination went wild with all the things those scars implied about his medical history.

"You'll need a training regiment so—"

"I already have one," Obi-Wan interrupted bitterly. "I have full mobility."

Mij pressed his lips together, not used to people snapping at him but he supposed this adiik had endured much to earn his wariness.

The rest of the examination went just as tensely, furthered by when Wad'e entered with his droid.

But at least Obi-Wan seemed less hostile to the blacksmith than to Mij as a healer.

Mij took Jango to his room to check him over.

Once the door shut, Jango asked, "How bad?"

"Bad, Jango, very bad. And he isn't Coruscanti."

Jango's brows rose, "You think he lied about that? He has a Core education, Mij."

"As a breathing Kenobi who has only been a slave for three years, I don't doubt at some point he was adopted by someone from the Core. That's not what I meant. Maybe he did grow up on Coruscant but that's not what he is."

"Spit it out, Mij."

"Have you adopted him?" Mij asked.

"Not officially," Jango said. "I want him free of that collar first."

"He's Mandalorian by birth and race," Mij said.

"Sundari?"

Mij almost laughed, but there wasn't enough room for humour in his chest. "No, he's Stewjoni, ner Mand'alor."

Jango flinched and dragged a hand across his face, "Well, that does explain the collar."

Stewjoni blood almost always won out over human. They weren't stronger than humans per se but they healed better and lived longer, which meant that the severity of Obi-Wan's injuries were, at least initially, far worse than they appeared.

Jango swore under his breath, "Is he going to be okay?"

"You still want to adopt him?"

"What kind of banthashit question is that?"

"You bring a Kenobi into this clan during the middle of a clan war and he will be targeted, ner Mand'alor."

"I will kill anyone who dares," Jango snarled.

"Good," Mij said. "Because the psychology trauma is not something anyone can help him with alone."

"He's brilliant, Mij. Truly. He's hurt, hurting, but he's far from broken."

Mij sighed, "It'll be a long road."

"It always is."

oOo

Obi-Wan hadn't liked the healers before being enslaved. He liked them even less afterwards.

Wad'e though, was interesting, despite him doing scans.

Obi-Wan watched him work, watched the shine of his armour.

It was familiar.

Too familiar.

Vod'ika, why can't you run faster. Come on, hurry up. Buir will be mad again.

Obi-Wan turned his head to see who had spoken but the world blurred as vertigo engulfed him.

Stop looking at the trees, vod.

Ob'ika, shoot! Hit the target. Come on vod'ika, if you never miss maybe Buire will give you a real name.

He looked back at the shine of Beskar, fear filling him as a moment later, Obi-Wan felt the sting of metal against his cheek.

Why didn't you kill her? How could you possibly be a child of mine?

Coward.

oOo

Wad'e saw it, the moment the adiik zoned out.

The child hadn't been scared of him but something about his armour had entranced him.

But then all the colour had drained from his face and the light dimmed in his eyes.

Wad'e was afraid to touch him. Calling his name had no effect.

Cursing mentally, he put his helmet back on to com Mij and explain what was going on.

Wad'e had been a Mandalorian his whole life, been at his Buire knees in a forge sinse before he could walk.

He knew war, and hunting, but never, not ever, had he seen such a look of terror on a child's face.

Because he had never had a child, never had a little one respect and trust them, and meet that face of cruelty.

It wasn't the expression of a slave about to meet punishment.

It was the look of child being betrayed by their parent.

Because the fear that looked up at him in those grey eyes could only be born from loving the person you would never dream of hurting.

But who was about to harm you.

And sure enough, as soon as Wad'e took a step back the boy curled in on himself, speaking in rapid Mando'a, pleading and apologizing that he didn't mean to be weak.

Wad'e backed up and hissed into the com, "Mij, get back in here. And bring that good for nothing Mand'alor with you."

—What happened?

"He's a Child of the Watch or some other dar'manda, get in here!"

The child was hyperventilating.

Kark.

Kark.

Jango and Mij ran in a second later and the adiik didn't even notice, caught too deeply in his flashback.

"What did you do?" Jango demanded.

Wad'e took his helmet back off, "It was the armour. You could have told us he was Mandalorian. I swear, if he's from the Watch—"

"You'll what?" Jango snarled right back.

"I swear I will gut his dar'buire before the entire galaxy. Listen to what he's saying!"

They all listened, Stewjoni accented Manda'o, fluent Manda'o, and agonizingly fearful.

oOo

Jango went to his ad'ika.

Slavery should have been the worst thing from this child's life.

That maybe there was something deeper.

That preceded his cousin selling him to the Zygerrians...

Obi-Wan Kenobi.

Nobody from Nowhere of No Clan.

A lost cause, a name of the dead, or the name of one who had been exiled.

Jango hated that it was his people, his culture, that had put this fear into this little one.

Yes, he was a True Mandalorian, but the Watch was older, a solid millenia or four older. Jaster's Codex was barely lasting the decade.

Jango laid down on the floor and blindly caught Obi-Wan's hand where he was still curled up on the cot.

Obi-Wan jerked and stilled, falling quiet.

Jango waited, the minutes passed like hours.

Like life times.

Obi-Wan finally squeezed his hand back, the cot shifting as he moved to look over the edge down at him, "Jango?"

"Hello, ad'ika."

Obi-Wan cheeks were read as he mumbled in Basic, "I'm sorry."

"You've done nothing wrong, ner ad'ika," Jango said.

"I don't know what happened," he said, closing his eyes.

"Some memories crystalize, frozen in time and sharp to the touch. You were born Mandalorian."

"I don't remember them," Obi-Wan said.

"That's alright," Jango responded easily.

Obi-Wan's voice was barely audible as he said, "They hated me."

"We don't, and we never will," Jango said.

Obi-Wan was silent to this.

Squeezing his hand, Jango asked cautiously, "Would you want to be a True Mandalorian?"

Obi-Wan met his gaze and answered with raw honesty; "I don't know."

oOo

After Obi-Wan's episode, he was reluctant to talk to Jango, reluctant to look at the other Mandalorians.

Intellectually, Obi-Wan knew he had been born on Stewjon and that he was Mandalorian.

But the earliest memory he had was of Master Tholme showing him the stars on a small Jedi ship.

He knew he had been saved, but the memory that had stuck with him was the safety and warmth that Tholme had offered him, the Force glowing with welcome around him.

The Jedi hadn't just given him a home and a family, it had given him the Force, the ability to hear it beyond the warnings that had whispered through the darkness.

And that's what life on Stewjon had been, shadowy darkness. Dim memories of a brother who had maybe loved him and a mother who had hated him.

But those weren't memories, just distant nightmares.

It was all stupid because Obi-Wan had certainly lived through worse.

His panic attack had been stupid and the pity the Mandalorians showed around him now grated on him.

He had survived worse, his birth family meant nothing to him. They had no power over him.

But this development would perhaps make goodbyes easier.

Even if further unmoored as he was now, Jango seemed evermore like a lifeline as he steadfastly reminded him that his past didn't change his worth.

Of course, this made Obi-Wan feel guilty about the food they fed him and the shelter they provided as Wad'e worked day and night to figure out how to crack his collar.

He just didn't know what to do.

If he stayed, these people would make him confront his origins.

Yet if he stayed he would have to bury his Jedi side or, no matter what Jango said, they would hate him.

Funnily enough, he had done the same thing at the Temple, hiding the parts of himself that were Mandalorian so the adults wouldn't worry about his loyalties.

Either choice would be condemnation of some part of himself.

But going it alone, into the wide unknown… Before his panic attack, he thought he could handle it.

But the world had gone grey around the edges and wondered if he would manage to support himself, find purpose in a galaxy where having once been a slave would mark him forever as someone less.

As someone destined to be resold.

One thing was certain, if he tried going after the Senators who allowed for trafficking to continue without Jedi or Mandalorian support, he would be resold or dead within months.

If only he could touch the Force, if only it could guide him even if it was without clear explanation.

There was a knock on the door.

"Come in," Obi-Wan called, sitting up in his temporary bunk on Mij's ship.

Myles entered, in full armour sans helmet.

Obi-Wan was glad to see it, it was far worse to feel like everyone was walking on eggshells around him about something that should never have been an issue.

"How you holding up?" Myles asked.

"Fine, you?" Obi-Wan countered.

Myles shrugged, "Jan'ika is concerned about you."

Obi-Wan sighed, "I'm sorry."

"Don't apologize."

"Then what do you want me to say?" Obi-Wan asked.

"Anything. Wherever your limits are, kid, set them and he'll abide by them," Myles said.

Obi-Wan sighed, "I just want to be treated like I'm not going to break."

"Mij isn't going to let up your recovery plan," Myles said. "However, you are going to have to speak up about things you want."

"Like what?" Obi-Wan asked. "You've all been incredible to me, what more could I ask from you?"

"All Jango seems to know for sure that you like is tea. He's spent the last week learning more about the art of brewing tea than seems feasible for glorified leaf water. Do you like any games, books, histories, legends, or do 6ou want to know more about us? Anything, adiik. Jango would do anything to see you brighten, even a little bit."

Guilt churned Obi-Wan's stomach, "I feel like I'm using you all."

Myles tsked, "Look at me please."

Obi-Wan raised his face to look into blue eyes.

"You are aliit. Because of you, we have a chance to unite our clan enter this war with morality and dignity. You don't have to stay with us, but you will forever be welcome umong us."

Unless you knew what I really aim, Obi-Wan thought morosely.

Not knowing what he was going to say, he was saved by the door opening. Mij poked his head and set Obi-Wan's heart racing; "It's time."

The collar was coming off.

oOo

Jango was one ball of panic as he watched Wad'e work on the collar.

But the warrior worked calmly with sure fingers and in no time at all, the mechanism that thrummed with self sustaining energy went quiet.

Jango was holding his breath as Wad'e moved to take the collar off completely.

oOo

When the collar cracked open, Obi-Wan stopped breathing as the galaxy flooded in.

For the first time in what felt like an age, he was free to let the tide take him.

It was so much, it was as if he had never seen light before as if who and what he was scattered outward.

He was a drop in the ocean.

But he was also the ocean.

He was the stars.

He was burning, he was drowning.

He was dying.

He was reborn.

Nothing had ever been so painful.

Nothing had ever been so beautiful as this.

He felt disconnected from reality yet so acutely aware of it.

He felt as if he were nothing but his heart drumming with the rhythm of the heart of the galaxy.

oOo

On Coruscant, the Jedi High Council bowed their heads as a star was born somewhere in the galaxy.

Mace Windu shut his eyes as he felt the galaxy shatter and reform.

He didn't recognize the star that had been born, he had no way of knowing if the Seekers would find them and bring them to the Order.

But if the young one, who burned with light and pain so acutely that it brought tears to Mace's soul, did come to the Order or did not, the effect they would have on the galaxy would still be transformative.

And whatever change followed would be the Will of the Force.

That brought a smile to Mace's lips and he met his old Master's gaze who smiled back in turn.

oOo

Also on Coruscant, Darth Sidious's lip curled at the new threat that burst into existence.

Thankfully, a baby would be easy enough to find and snuff out.

oOo

On another planet, far, far away, Darth Plagueis closed his eyes to feel the power rushing over his skin.

What a joy it would be to find that light and twist it toward the darkness, a presence like that could cast an unassailable shadow to swallow all other stars.

oOo

Anakin jerked as the unfamiliar Force presence washed over him and his Master.

Master Qui-Gon, who sat cross legged across from him, startled, his eyes flashing open.

"What is that?" Anakin asked, growing slightly panicked as the near tangible light wrapped around him in a playful greeting.

"A child being born," Qui-Gon said, his voice tinged with sadness.

Anakin's focus sharpened on the Master Jedi. "You know who it is, don't you?" he accused.

The light pressed against Qui-Gon's shields, along the Master-Apprentice bond he and Anakin shared.

"No, Padawan, I don't know who this is."

"Then why do you sound so sad?" Anakin demanded.

"No Force presence can be stretched this far for long," Qui-Gon said, closing his eyes and Anakin watched with his mind's eye as the Jedi Master shewed the light back the way it came. "Birth and death are close companions, if this being does not find their way back to themselves, they will rejoin the Force."

"They will die?" Anakin clarified.

Qui-Gon nodded, "This is not power, Padawan, this is a soul finding balance within the Force. But nirvana is not a permanent state for the living."

"Why is this the first time I'm feeling this?" he asked as he felt light continue on from them.

Qui-Gon bowed his head, "In the Jedha Temple, I was taught that only the purest of spirits could greet death and the physical reality of the galaxy with equal curiosity and joy. Whoever we sense is experiencing something quite singular. Yet, not unheard of."

Anakin gasped as the light suddenly flickered out of view.

But Qui-Gon smiled gently, "Good, they've settled on living then."

"I can't feel them," Anakin said, unable to examine his own feelings as it seemed like the presence had died.

"I can, but they have returned to themselves. If they had remained in the Force and let themselves be taken back into it, you would have felt them fade outward. Not flickering like that."

"Oh," Anakin said, and then asked again. "Is this common?"

Qui-Gon smiled, "No, but I think, it's how the Force felt to me when you were born all those years ago."

oOo

Jango watched in horror as Obi-Wan's eyes glazed over and he stopped moving, completely. Wad'e gently pulled the collar away.

"He's not breathing," Jango said, panicking.

Mij stepped forward, taking Obi-Wan's hand, and placing two fingers to his wrist, "His pulse is a bit thready."

"Obi-Wan?" Jango asked as the ad'ika remained frozen.

A minute passed.

"Mij, why isn't he breathing?" Jango demanded.

But Mij didn't answer.

"Mij?"

"His pulse is slowing," Mij said, letting go of Obi-Wan's hand to grab for his med-bag.

Jango couldn't stop himself from grabbing the ad'ika's shoulder.

Obi-Wan sucked in ragged breath, his eyes going wide with feral panic, he reeled on Jango.

The eyes that looked up at him were not that of the child he had known.

There was no recognition in those eyes whose pupils were blown completely black.

A feral animal stared up at him.

Obi-Wan grabbed his wrist and with a sharp twist, Jango grunted as white-hot pain shot up his arm and then he was thrown bodily into the workroom wall. Obi-Wan had used the twisting of his body to put force behind it.

Jango let out a breathy yell as his back hit the shelving; he and the contents of shelves, which included various hammers and bits of metal, collapsed to the floor in a cacophony of sound.

"Obi-Wan!" he yelled or tried to, scrambling to his feet to chase after him as his child darted out the door.

Mij and Wad'e yelled at him as he staggered out into the night, the tall grass and the trees shivering in the wind beneath the moons that provided only the outline of the landscape.

Obi-Wan was fast, already a far off form disappearing into the dark tree line.

Wad'e caught Jango around the waist, "Let him go!"

"Alor, you're hurt!" Mij said, helping Wad'e in his attempt to restrain him.

"I don't care, he'll get lost! He needs me!"

"He needs to breathe, Alor," Mij said. "He needs time to reorient himself. He'll come back or we'll find him. Let him breathe."

Jango stopped struggling and even though the adrenaline he could feel the aches and sharp shoots of pain through his wrist and arm.

Obi-Wan was stronger than he had ever given him credit for.

"He'll come back, Alor," Wad'e assured.

"What if he gets lost?" Jango asked.

"Then we will find him," Mij said.

He allowed the medic to pull him back on board the ship and to treat his wrist, but Jango was right to be worried.

oOo

It was an effort not to use the Force as he ran, but once he was among the spirits of the trees…

It was as if he had traded his feet in and been granted wings.

He soared through the dense forest, then above through the canopy. Everything was a-light, alive, singing in the Force.

And he was a part of it.

A part of that song.

Nothing lived in a vacuum, not even the perceived vacuum he had been imprisoned in.

The Force was with him.

Had always been with him.

And now that he could hold out his hand again to it, he knew he would never see himself as separate.

The Force was with him and he was one with the Force.

For a time, he felt absolute belonging, as if his whole life had been leading up to this moment. So when the Force welcomed him home, he would know with every fiber of his being that this world wanted him.

The galaxy was not a fair place, the scales of good and evil did not rest on any singular person.

However, pain was not worthless.

And neither was he.

oOo

AN: Thoughts, blue whales, or feedback on the chapter, pretty please?