AN: This was supposed to be a handful of scenes and it made it into its own chapter :D

Chapter 19 - A Baar'ur's Calling

"I want to see him," Nield demanded.

He had lost Cerasi, her death had crushed them all and nearly destroyed Obi-Wan.

The older boy had lost faith in himself to keep them safe.

Which wasn't fair to him, because it was a war, there was only so much a single person could do.

Even a military genius like Obi-Wan Kenobi could do.

Bevwen sighed, taking off the stickers from his temple. "The two of you will be kept apart until Phase II."

"How do I even know he's alive?" Nield demanded.

"You must trust that we wouldn't kill one of our own. In our culture, Obi-Wan is what amounts to royalty. In the meantime, focus on recovering your strength and learning about your new home."

Nield was being treated for a concussion. Or rather several concussions from before and after Obi-Wan had joined them over the course of the war.

"Do you often keep your royalty prisoners?" Nield challenged.

Bevwen sighed again, "Ad'ika, Obi'ika is not well. It has taken you weeks to heal, and it will be another few months until you are approaching a healthy baseline."

"I know Obi-Wan is worth it, that's why I need to see him so I can help him."

"Did Obi-Wan tell you he was a slave?"

Nield blinked at the medic, "No, he– No, he never said."

"Trust is difficult to earn, easy to break. If he lashes out, I don't want you to suffer for it." Bevwen ruffled Nield's hair like his mother had before she died in the war with the Melida versus the Daan. "I know it hurts right now to feel alone. Just give it time."

Nield bit his lip, "I will get to see him again when he's better, right?"

"Of course, ad, I promise."

When the medic left, Nield stared at the too soft bed in his lonely too clean room. Embarrassed, but knowing he wouldn't be able to sleep otherwise, he took the blanket and pillow off the bed and pushed the chair out of the way. He was taller than he had been, but he managed to fit himself under the desk.

He comforted himself with the knowledge that the little ones would be sleeping in real beds with full bellies with people who would love and protect them as their birth families had failed to do.

oOo

Obi-Wan didn't look at Bevwen as the baar'ur talked to him, he didn't even process his words.

Eventually, the medic caught on, touching Obi-Wan's cheek until finally met his dark gaze.

The man was possibly human, possibly something else. He was a large man, from his height to the width of his shoulders who looked as if he could hold the weight of the galaxy as if he were born to it.

He was all shades of brown, his braided hair, eyes, and skin.

"You have to eat, ner ad'ika."

"Have to," Obi-Wan repeated. "The Watch seems to like that phrase."

Bevwen sighed, "Times are not–"

"The same, yes, you've said."

"Obi'ika, you are seventeen, going on eighteen. You're well past your verd'gatton. When you graduate from this program the verde will listen to you. You can't be a part of our leadership if you no longer know your people."

"My people are dead," Obi-Wan said flatly. "Everyone I know is dead and gone."

"But you are not, take this time for yourself."

Obi-Wan glowered up at the man, "You're using my buir as a hostage, why should I trust anything you say?"

"Because the only person who could integrate her into a clan is you. And if you wish to sponsor anyone, you must graduate from the academy yourself."

"You really think this hellscape is sustainable and good for the Mandalore system?"

"As opposed to the chaos of our current government? As opposed to our endless civil wars spurred on by the Republic?" Bevwen asked, placing the spoon back in his hand.

"Mand'alor Jaster Mereel–"

"Mereel is not the Mand'alor," Bevwen snapped. "He's a self-glorified historian with delusions of grandeur."

"You forget," Obi-Wan said dryly. "I've met Tor."

Bevwen's lips twitched. "Tor has his faults, but he is the general we need, even if his personal conduct leaves room for improvement."

"I'm surprised you're allowed to say that about your dictator," Obi-Wan said, eating some of the brothy soup, knowing the baar'ur wouldn't leave him alone until he finished at least half.

Bevwen outright smiled, brushing a thumb over his cheek, "It is good to see the fire returned to your eyes, ner verd'ika."

Obi-Wan hissed at him like a cat, his instincts frayed beyond any desire to control his less-than-human responses to things. "You stole the Force from me."

"Nonsense," Bevwen tsked, stepping back to write something on his medical-pad. "Just because you can't see the stars does not mean they are not there. The Ka'ra will wait for you."

"I'd honestly rather you maimed me," Obi-Wan spat. "And your lack of comment from earlier means you agree, Tor is a dictator, not the Mand'alor chosen by the people."

"Loyalty and obedience are not the same thing, ner ad'ika," Bevwen said. "I am loyal to Tor, to clan Vizsla, for what they stand for. Yes, Tor isn't perfect, but he's also not a journeyman exiled by his own people protecting the pacifists who are set on carrying out a cultural genocide and continues to oppose the Watch, to go against the old ways, enough so to keep these wars going."

"I'm pretty certain you're terrorists," he said, setting aside the remainder of his soup.

"Mereel is playing into the Republic's hand."

"And slaughtering Jetii younglings isn't lending pressure and opportunity for the Republic to step in?" Obi-Wan asked, arching a brow.

"Montross was executed," Bevwen said, sitting at the foot of his bed.

"By Tor," Obi-Wan asked, "or by Jaster?" He was using one's given name as a mockery and the other as a familiarity.

Jango loved his buir, yet even Bevwen who was unfailingly loyal to his Mand'alor, didn't seem to like him much.

Which was good, sadism and the healing arts were not a happy marriage within a baar'ur.

"It was the Watch who saved your Young."

"This is the Way," Obi-Wan said, too tired to continue this debate.

"This is the Way," Bevwen repeated, his smile soft.

Obi-Wan looked away again, his heart aching.

Bevwen was a genuine person, honourable and fearsome in a way even a Goran could not compete with.

The Jetiiese and the Mandalorians were not as different as the two liked to believe. Both were stubborn and spiritual, both sometimes put ideals above their own lives, but the power structure within the two cultures was incredibly similar.

The Gorane and the Mand'alor were the leaders, expected to be leaders of their military forces, the directors of their present, and those who remembered the past and never forgot what it meant to be Mand'ade.

This was the same as the Jetiiese councils, elder Masters, and indepentant Masters, those who Mastered fighting forms and who Mastered aspects of the Force that others could learn from.

Then there were the healers or the baar'ur who could overrule the anyone for the greater good of their clan or Order.

Then there were the ade, the core of both their societies. There parantage didn't matter, their blood did not matter, they were beloved and jealously guarded. Both cultures, at their ideal would do just about anything to save a child.

The place they differed was their family structure, which was different more so to outsiders. In the creches, ade were raised together, raised by every member of their society.

Obi-Wan had thousands of aunties and thousands of uncles. Where the Mandalorians had smaller families, where the death of a parent was something destructive and considered a pain to be pitied.

Jetii younglings were shielded from death but taught to accept it was natural.

Being a part of both societies, Obi-Wan always despised the stereotype that Jedi did not feel.

Of course, they felt.

Of course, they grieved and felt hatred and despair, but if they gave into those feelings, their natural abilities could lay waste to cities and could start wars.

Some Mandalorians praised that response, and it was wrong for them to do so.

It was that response that left them in forever wars.

It was that longing for vengeance that had gotten his buir killed. It was vengeance that had displaced and destroyed Melida/Daan.

"Ner ad'ika, are you with me?" Bevwen coaxed, cupping his cheek in a large hand.

Obi-Wan blinked back tears as he leaned into the touch.

Lacking the connection to the Force, his mind was starved for connection. It made his skin hunger in a way that actually starvation couldn't hold a candle to.

He knew it was wrong to crave comfort. To crave Bevwen's attention when the man was one of his jailors.

Bevwen must have seen him starting to break, because he gently, ever so gently, coaxed Obi-Wan into a half embrace. He gave Obi-Wan ample opportunity to pull away, to protest, holding him in a way despite the man's remarkable size adventure.

Bevwen was silently asking for consent, and it was wrong that Obi-Wan was grateful for the gesture.

Because there was no consent here, this was capture-bonding, pure and simple.

But Obi-Wan couldn't resist the small reprieve, tucking himself into the baar'ur's side. It was accept this or risk madness, risk giving into despair that Master Tahl would be turned into a vegetable, her body alive but her spirit rejoining the Force.

It was Tor's word that this fate might befall her. But it was Bevwen who had the skill and knowledge to do it.

It was Bevwen who could bring Tahl back to him.

As Obi-Wan wrapped his arms around the dark man's waist, breathing deeply, trying to soak in the man's presence.

Bevwen rubbed his back and some of the tension pulled from his shoulders.

"You've been here for a month," Bevwen remarked. "The door isn't locked."

Obi-Wan didn't grace that remark with a response.

He was in a compound, a training facility for training difficult orphans and prisoners of war into obedient soldiers.

His being locked in a building was only marginally better than being locked in a room.

"Are you going to start attending classes, ner ad'ika?" Bevwen continued. "Aren't you bored?"

"I won't leave her."

"Tahl won't come to harm while you're away, you have my word of honour."

Obi-Wan didn't protest, he needed to start planning to get out of here, even if he was losing.

"Obi'ika?"

"For you," Obi-Wan said quietly.

He might be well on his way to being capture-bond.

He was nearly eighteen, but his life had been death, chaos, and confusion since he was nine.

But as vulnerable as he was, his only hope was that Bevwen might, just maybe, side with him.

If nothing else, Obi-Wan would rather trust his fate to the baar'ur than that dar'buir Tor Karking Vizsla.

oOo

Bevwen chucked his helmet at the wall of his ship leaving a sizable dent, rage burning in his veins.

He had never supported the integration program. He had stayed far, far away from it.

He did not enjoy watching children being broken.

He did not enjoy being part of the process.

Though, in part, for the so called 'Young' perhaps needed it.

Yes, there were a warrior society.

But the Young weren't of the same culture, they didn't have the same supports, and having been child soldiers against adults, they needed help.

Lots of help and time to adjust.

But Obi-Wan?

Obi-Wan wasn't just dealing with the same issues; he was literally from a different millenia.

That he was functionally one of their cultural leaders, raised by Tarre Vizsla himself, left a foul taste in his mouth for what Tor was trying to do with him.

Bevwen reached for his cabinet on his ship, for the liquor, and thought better of it.

If he got sauced, he was going to punch the self-satisfied smirk off his Mand'alor's face.

So instead, he reached for a different type of treason than assault, his com.

The one reserved for his aliit.

The one he kept off for the last year or more.

Locking his ship and double checking his security before he coded in a familiar frequency.

The line was opened almost immediately, he was greeted by cursing and the sound of movement.

The background noise cut off and his brother demanded, "Where the kark is my Alor'ad?

"Hello to you too, vod'ika," Bevwen said with a sigh.

"Where is Jango Fett?" Mij demanded, ripping off his helmet.

"I don't know," Bevwen answered.

"Dar'vod."

Bevwen sighed, "I don't know, Mij. Ori'haat, I do not know."

"Tell me something, or I swear, I will never speak with you again, ori'haat," Mij spat.

Bevwen rubbed his face, "Spice freighter. I have no idea which one, no idea if he was sold, and no idea where he is currently or if he is still alive."

"I'll call you back," Mij said before disconnecting.

Bevwen sunk back into his seat. Mij had become a turned coat shortly after their buire and youngest sister had died fighting against the Kryze Clan.

Tor didn't know he was still in contact with his vod'ika, but Mereel did know that Mij was in contact with his ori'vod.

Maybe it said something about the Watch that Bevwen couldn't fully trust his Mand'alor. But Bevwen wasn't willing to turn his back on the Vizsla clan.

His clan had served them for a thousand years.

He had never questioned his duty, not even when Mij defected.

But now?

His com lit and he answered it, setting the device on his table to see and been seen by the holorecorder.

Mij looked at him for a long moment before sighing, "Ori'vod."

Bevwen shut his eyes, "I've never wanted to go back to drinking."

Mij's expression softened, "It's been nearly a decade since you've been sober."

Bevwen rubbed his temple, "I don't know what to do, vod'ika."

"I never thought I would see the day, Bevwen Gilemar didn't know exactly what his path was," there was bitterness in his tone.

He huffed, "This would be difficult for even you to swallow, Mi'ika."

"There is plenty the Watch does I find unpalatable, Ori'Bev."

"How many of the legends do you remember about the Lost Son of the Mand'alor?"

Mij went very still, "Quite a few, actually."

Bevwen thought about what he would say next. Not telling Tor he was in contact with his brother was no one's business but his own. However, sharing this with his brother would certainly reach enemy ears.

But kark it.

He was loyal to the Vizslas.

Obi-Wan just happened to be a Vizsla as well.

"The Jetiiese didn't kill him."

Mij stared at him for a long moment before asking the last thing he expected, "You've met Obi-Wan Kenobi?"

"You don't sound surprised," Bevwen remarked with a frown.

"Jan'ika was speaking of him. We thought it was just dreams."

"He's very real," Bevwen said.

"A Vizsla legend comes to life and you don't sound nearly excited enough, ori'vod."

"Neither do you."

"I thought Jaster was overreacting, but you captured Jango by capitalizing on those weaknesses."

Bevwen paused before damning himself, "Tor is working with a Dar'jetii."

"The one who killed the Kryzes?"

"Yes, he's an insane di'kut. He thinks he's Darth Revan."

"Yet you're working for him."

"I didn't call you because Clan Kryze got what was coming to them."

"Then why are you calling?"

"Obi-Wan…" Bevwen began. "He's… I want to adopt him."

"How old is he?"

"Eighteen, but he's hurting, vod. He's spent the last four years in a warzone, a planetary civil war that dissolved into fighting between ade and their dar'buire."

Mij hissed, "What?"

"We fire stormed the dar'buire, we glassed them from orbit once we had all the ade off world. Obi-Wan was their oldest. His Jetii'buir has been kept comatose."

"Oh, I'm sure that's earned his trust," Mij said sarcastically.

"It's likely one of the only reasons he hasn't tried to kill anyone."

"So you've taken Obi-Wan Kenobi hostage, and you want my sympathies, is that it?"

"Tor wants to adopt him."

"What do you want me to say, Bevwen? You know what I think of the Watch."

"I want to adopt him," Bevwen repeated. "He's beginning to trust me and it feels–" He sighed, "It feels wrong. Everything about this feels wrong."

"Then double kidnap him and join us, stop following Tor. He's a spoiled child and a rabid sadist, he doesn't deserve your respect."

"There is no way I could get him out, Tor has his room monitored to hell and back. His Jetii'buir is no help and…" Bevwen took another bracing breath before voicing his truth. "And Tor would sooner kill the ad then let him free."

"Then tell me your location and the Haat'mand'ade–"

"Didn't you hear me?" Bevwen cut in. "I can't get him out of here without risking his safety."

Mij paused then asked in rapid fire succession, "What is Tor hoping to accomplish with him? How much does the ad trust you? Do you need to get his Jetii'buir out too? Are you in one of Tez Vizsla's so called Integration centres?"

Bevwen didn't answer, which was answer enough.

"Ori'Bev," Mij criticized, "How can you support–?"

"I don't, Mij. But I can't get him out of this."

"Unless you earn his trust in truth."

"Excuse me?"

"Play the game, Bev. Let your ad know it's a game, and when the time is right, get out."

Bevwen shook his head, shutting his eyes, "The Mand'alor–"

"If this is truly Obi-Wan Kenobi, son of Tarre Vizsla, then Tor is breaking his mandate as Mand'alor by bringing harm to his own clan."

Bevwen looked away, "You know I hate to admit when I'm in the wrong."

"I love you, Ori'vod. I've never doubted the type of man you are, even if a part of that is your immense stubbornness."

"Will Mereel accept me?"

"Of course he will."

"And the Jetiiese?"

Mij hesitated, "Kenobi wasn't a part of hurting Jango, was he?"

"No, Jango was the one who told us where to find him."

Mij winced, "Then you will be welcomed, if not with open arms, then without harm if you take the Resol'nare."

Bevwen's anger flared at that, but Obi-Wan was more important than his pride.

All the ade were.

oOo

AN: Thoughts, rattlesnakes, or feedback, pretty please?