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His fingers brushed the concrete as he stared at the ceiling, the first rays of the sun filtering through the barred window as he took another breath, his chest rising as air filled his burning lungs.
The soft drip of water from the broken pipe in his cell echoed through the quiet early morning as Obi-Wan closed his eyes, his chest falling as he exhaled, trying to focus on the soft breaths of the boy curled up against him.
Cal’s fingers twisted into Obi-Wan’s worn robes and Obi-Wan tightened the hand on the boy’s back as he tried to focus on anything except the gaping sensation of wrong in the back of his mind where the force had once wound like a content tooka.
“It feels wrong.”
Cal’s voice was barely audible but it broke the silence like broken transparisteel and Obi-Wan swallowed around the lump in his throat.
“It’ll be okay,” Obi-Wan murmured, “Just go to sleep, Cal. I’m sure that Master Jinn will come for us soon.”
“I’m not so sure about that Knight Kenobi,” Cal whispered.
Not that Obi-Wan could blame him as he looked at the grey block walls surrounding them.
He forced himself to take another deep breath.
“Obi-Wan,” he said, trying to keep his voice light, “You can call me Obi-Wan.”
“I’m not really sure,” Jango said gruffly, fiddling with the cuffs on the unconscious copper-haired man again.
They were glowing a dull blue—and though Jango didn’t know what it was, he had a sinking feeling that taking them off might not be in his best interest as he shook them lightly again.
He glanced at the small boy lying on a cot, curled up into a ball and eyed the similarly glowing cuffs.
“Do you think they’re related?”
Jango released a long breath.
“I’m not sure,” he said again, “I just have a feeling that we shouldn’t take them off.”
He rubbed at his neck absently and Myles huffed.
“Yo u think?” he asked dryly, “Anyone who can wear whatever the kark those are and still manage to strangle you with their bare hands probably should stay cuffed, even if you’ve got one of your ‘legendary feelings’.”
“He had a kid,” Jango grunted out, “who hid behind him for protection. He didn’t lash out until we got too close.”
“And if you hadn’t had back up you’d be dead,” Myles drawled, “Or did you forget I had to drag his deranged ass off of you? I’ve never seen a human fight like that.”
“You must have not seen a whole lotta fights then.”
Jango looked up as Kal walked in, buy'ce tucked under his arm as he raised a brow at them.
“It wasn’t the fight of a non-human,” Jango agreed, “It was the fight of someone who thinks the only other option is death.”
“I’ve worked as a commando for as long as your line of di’kute have been running the show and I ain’t never seen anything like that,” Myles said doubtfully.
“When you’re catching someone for a bounty the choice is prison or death,” Kal said gruffly, “That kid didn’t think he was going to prison, that’s for damn sure. He thought he and the pipsqueak were about to die. Nothing left to lose and everything to gain but only one of ya makes it out alive.”
“Well, that still doesn’t explain where the kark he came from,” Myles replied, “No armour, no weapons, and locked away sounds like a prisoner but if he was a prisoner he shouldn’t be in that kind of shape.”
“Maybe a new prisoner?”
Jango looked up as Silas stepped in before shaking his head.
“No. Look at the marks on his wrists. Those cuffs have been on long enough that he’s got calluses where they rub. You only get those if you’ve had ‘em on for months.”
“So we’ve got an unconscious man who wants to kill us, a kid who doesn’t speak, and no idea where either of them came from. That’s just great,” Myles muttered.
“Could be worse,” Kal shrugged.
“And how could it be worse?” Jango asked tightly, looking back at him.
“Pre Vizsla could have gotten away,” Kal murmured, “And this has his grimy fingers all over it.”
“Well at least we can agree on one thing,” Jango huffed, standing, “Let’s get them back to the ship. Maybe they’ll actually have something useful to say.”
“I wouldn’t be so sure about that,” Myles said, even as he stepped forward to help Jango.
Obi-Wan jerked awake, heart pounding in his ears as he looked around desperately, stumbling out of the cot that he was in as his blood ran cold.
“Cal?”
For a minute, Obi-Wan couldn’t breathe past the panic that filled his lungs, trying to think past the fog in his head.
It was wrong. Everything was wrong.
“Do you know him?”
Obi-Wan froze as two men rounded the corner of his cell.
“No. I think I’d remember ‘im.”
Obi-Wan’s eyes narrowed as a sharp blue gaze met his, teeth bared despite himself, his body trembling as he prepared to pounce.
“You can’t look at me like that when you called for me ,” the man said dryly and Obi-Wan swallowed, throat dry.
“I didn’t call for you,” Obi-Wan murmured hoarsely.
“Didn’t call for…” the man muttered, only to stop as the realization came over his face, “The pipsqueak with ‘im. His name must be Cal.”
Obi-Wan growled softly as the man looked at his companion.
“Where is he?” Obi-Wan demanded, shoving forward to grip the bars of his cell, “Tell me!”
“He’s like a caged animal,” the man’s companion muttered.
“I already told ‘ya that,” the other man snarked back, “Or did you miss my whole explanation? Seriously Myles, do you ever listen?”
“Give him back!” Obi-Wan snapped out, his voice becoming more desperate, “I’ll do whatever you want just give him back to me!”
“Relax,” the other man said, his voice even, “He’s fine. A couple a’ bruises and he was hungry but he’s asleep now. No need to worry.”
“I need to see him,” Obi-Wan bit out, “He’s- he’s supposed to be with me. That was the deal! Give him back.”
“What deal?”
Blue eyes narrowed and Obi-Wan slammed his hands into the bars, stepping back and baring his teeth at the man.
“He’s kriffing feral,” the man—Myles—muttered.
“How’d you’da liked it if someone stole your ad from ‘ya?” the man asked, raising a brow at Myles.
“I hope to never find out, Skirata,” the man replied, “But something tells me that we should get Jango.”
Obi- Wan bared his teeth, growling softly before he could even fully process what the man had said and the man raised a brow.
“Well he knows Jango at the very least,” Skirata murmured, “Which is even more reason to go get the boss.”
Obi-Wan eyed the man, his eyes not leaving their forms until they disappeared from view.
Obi-Wan winced as the stun stick hit him in the ribs again, falling to a knee as the shock rippled through his muscles, the exhaustion weighing heavily on his body.
He looked up at the man looking back at him, pauldron tied around his arm in a mockery of Mandalorian armour.
He eyed the wheat symbol on the pauldron before things started to get blurry again and he had to let his head fall between his shoulders, eyes shutting to give them a few moments of rest against the strain.
“Wrong,” the man said flatly and Obi-Wan looked up at him, refusing to give him the satisfaction of a response as he sneered at Obi-Wan, “Being wrong on the field will get you killed. Don’t you know?”
“I’m aware,” Obi-Wan agreed calmly, “However I have to admit that it’s hard to make out pauldrons when you are having trouble seeing. Long lengths of time with insufficient meals will do that to a person.”
“Maybe if you could get them right you could finally earn yourself and your ‘padawan’ some food,” the man replied in mock sympathy.
“Perhaps it would help if you’d instruct me what pauldrons I’m supposed to be defending against,” Obi-Wan replied.
The man smirked at him.
“I see you haven’t learned yet. But you will.”
“I’m not going to take offence because your reaction is starting to feel more visceral than conscious,” the man grunted, shoving Obi-Wan further into the dirt, hands pressing his wrists against the ground as Obi-Wan snarled at him.
Obi-Wan slammed his head forward and the man cursed, dodging at the last second as their chests collided.
“I’ve seen rancor less feral than you,” the man bit out, shoving his back against the dirt, “But you won’t get to see your ad if you can’t at the very least stop trying to take my kriffing head off.”
Obi-Wan bared his teeth, shoving as hard as he could and then growling in frustration as the man’s hands tightened around his wrists.
It was useless, as much as Obi-Wan wanted to fight against the man. Without the force he didn’t have the raw strength to overpower a man in twenty kilos of armour, try as he might.
The thought of the force made Obi-Wan close his eyes briefly, brushing against the frayed ends of a bond that Obi-Wan knew used to bring him comfort and peace.
Still, the serrated edges of the bond only made him grit his teeth, the ache in the back of his mind making him itch.
“Relax,” the man bit out as Obi-Wan made to buck up again—though desperation had leapt into Obi-Wan’s movements, the panic setting in that he was trapped.
Suddenly someone was spewing off a slew of curses and Obi-Wan flinched as he was grabbed and yanked back, arms twisted behind his back in a tight grip as a man muttered behind him.
“Are you done tryna reason with him?” Skirata asked, his voice a little dry, “Because I don’t think it’s working, Jango.”
“Yeah, yeah,” the man—Jango—muttered, “I know what you think.”
Obi-Wan’s expression twisted into a snarl as he jerked against Skirata, trying to break free uselessly.
Skirata grunted as Obi-Wan’s elbow managed to lodge itself between his pauldron and chest plate.
“You really don’t know when to quit,” he grunted out, “You’re caught, tayc’nas’ad . Ain’t nowhere to go. This would go a lot smoother if you’d realize that we aren’t your enemies here.”
Obi-Wan just growled.
The man across from him sighed, shifting forward so that he was just out of reach of Obi-Wan.
“There’s something behind your eyes,” he murmured, “I can feel it. If I can just find it. Just meet me halfway. That’s all I need.”
Obi-Wan just jerked against Skirata’s grip, snarling as the man across from him took a breath, standing up and looking at the man behind Obi-Wan.
“We’ll try again tomorrow.”
“I can’t do that,” Obi-Wan murmured, forcing his body to stay still as a hand slammed on the bars in front of him, the man’s dark look as his face contorted into a cruel snarl.
“You’d better learn quickly. You’re running out of time.”
“No you don’t understand, I can’t . I can’t react the way that you want me to while I’m cut off from the force,” Obi-Wan said, trying to keep his voice calm and his head lowered even as the dread started to climb down his spine, “I’m not trained like you are. Without the force to aid me, I’m no better against them than you are.”
“You can say that as much as you’d like,” the man replied, “But that won’t help to save your padawan , will it Knight Kenobi? Or should I call you Obi-Wan?”
Obi-Wan’s head shot up, panic sparking in his chest.
“It turns out that padawans talk much easier than knights,” the man said casually, something sparking in his eyes that made Obi-Wan’s stomach turn, “And the longer it takes for you to do what it required of you, the more time I’ve got with little…Cal. Unfortunate name really, since one of your sworn enemies shares the same.”
“He doesn’t know what you want,” Obi-Wan insisted, “Neither of us do. We can’t do what you want without access to the force. I’m telling you the truth! It’s not possible! The force is what allows me to do the things you want us to do!”
“I thought that all was possible through the force,” he murmured and Obi-Wan’s blood ran cold.
He slammed his hands against the bar, face contorted into a snarl before he could stop himself.
“You’re making a mistake,” Obi-Wan said quietly, his voice like venom, “I won’t be behind these bars forever, Pre Vizsla.”
Vizsla smirked, straightening up in interest.
“So you do know who I am. So much for your little innocent act.”
“I’ve only recently heard of you but if you don’t think better of what you are doing then I’ll be the last,” Obi-Wan told him, “And I think that we both know that.”
The man backed up from the cell leisurely and Obi-Wan bared his teeth at him.
“Closer,” the man said, his voice approving, “You’re getting closer.”
“Obi-Wan!”
Cal slammed into Obi-Wan’s chest, eyes wide as he looked up at him and Obi-Wan’s face crumpled as he pulled Cal close to him, breath catching in his throat as the boy slotted himself against his chest.
“Cal,” Obi-Wan’s voice broke on his name, shoving his face into the boy’s neck despite the creeping feeling that someone was watching them.
“Told ‘ya.”
Obi-Wan’s head shot back up, tucking Cal even closer to him as he eyed their three captors warily, throat dry as they stared at him and Cal.
“What do you want?” Obi-Wan asked flatly, shifting into more of a sitting position as he waited for someone to speak.
“Nothing,” one of the men—Jango—grunted out, “Just stay with your ad for now.”
The tension in Obi-Wan’s shoulders bordered on painful as his stomach began to turn, his own words echoing in his mind even though he couldn’t find it in himself to regret them, his eyes falling to the pauldrons even though the sight of the aliik made his blood boil.
The urge to pounce on the man was easier to push down with Cal tucked in his arms—his reluctance to let go of the boy made it easier to ignore the voice in the back of his mind that was screaming at him and he let out a soft sigh before breathing in the scent of the padawan.
His fingers found the nape of the boy’s neck, scratching softly as Cal fully relaxed against him, using Obi-Wan’s body to hide his own from view as he curled into his grip.
“Where am I?” Obi-Wan asked, after too long of a silence between him and the other group, looking up at them once more hesitantly.
“You’re-.”
“We can’t tell you that,” the oldest of the group—Skirata—cut Jango off, “Not yet. First, we need to get a handle on this.”
Obi-Wan eyed them for a long time, the uneasiness that had been his constant companion no longer making the hairs on the back of his neck stand up, despite his unwillingness to let go of it completely.
He nodded.
“Fine,” he murmured, “But you’ll have to tell me what it is you want, eventually.”
“W e will,” Skirata agreed gruffly, “But I guess that we’ll just all have to wait.”
“I’ve done a lot of waiting in my time,” Obi-Wan warned quietly, “If you are hoping that I’ll be the one to give in, then I’ve some bad news for you.”
“I was only hoping that you’d stop attacking us so I suppose this is as good a start as any,” Jango replied, “Pair that with words and we might just get what we need after all.”
Obi-Wan swallowed dryly.
“I wouldn’t be so sure,” he said before tucking his face back into Cal, resolving that he’d done enough speaking for the day, his throat aching in a reminder of just how long it had been since he’d done more than make a noise or two.
He closed his eyes, waiting for the sound of fading footsteps before he finally let out the breath that he’d been holding.
The door opened and he leapt forward, hands wrapping around the throat of the man with little thought as he slammed him up against the bars, face contorted into a snarl even as fingers started to scrabble against his skin, digging half-moon marks as he gasped for air.
Obi-Wan was yanked back by his arms, shoulders burning as his arms were turned too far in the wrong direction and still he jerked forward, trying to pull out of the grip and towards the target in front of him despite the ache warning him to stop.
“Kark,” the man in front of him muttered, wiping the blood from his mouth as he looked at Obi-Wan critically, almost as if he were searching for something, “So much for a jetiise , huh? You’re a kriffing animal.”
Obi-Wan just snapped at him, continuing to fight against the people holding him back as a familiar man stepped into his cell.
“Good,” he murmured, “I think you’ve finally learned the lesson, haven’t you, Knight Kenobi?”
Obi-Wan jerked forward—momentarily slipping from the hands holding him back—as he darted forward to Vizsla's hands, already prepared to wrap around the man’s neck.
So mething caught him around the neck right as his fingers brushed against the man’s skin, yanking hard as Obi-Wan turned around, clawing at the two people who had managed to get their bearings enough to grab him.
“For kark’s sake!”
Obi-Wan returned his words with a snarl, fingers catching the man’s chest plate as they scrabbled against him desperately as he tried to find something soft to latch onto.
A hand around his neck stopped him, the fingers squeezing against his jugular as Obi-Wan fought against him.
Dark spots started to fill his vision as his lungs started to burn, body going weak before there was nothing.
Obi-Wan’s chest was tight, the unknown weight against his body leaving him as he started to panic, heart in his throat as his fingers scrabbled against the unknown assailant's skin, mouth forming a snarl as he shoved back to push them off.
“ Gev! Gev! ”
Obi-Wan’s eyes snapped open, dark eyes meeting his as warm hands wrapped around his wrists, pinning him into place as Obi-Wan caught the blood on his face, dripping down his cheek from the gash across his cheekbone.
Obi-Wan started to struggle harder, everything in his body telling him to fight , to get away from the threat.
To kill it.
“Obi-Wan, please!”
The voice snapped him out of his thoughts, body going limp despite the blood pounding in his ears as the man above him grunted, slipping forward as Obi-Wan stopped fighting him.
“That’s it,” the man muttered, shoulders relaxing minutely even as he held Obi-Wan in place like he might start fighting the moment that he took his hands off of him.
Obi-Wan turned his head towards the voice, breath catching in his throat as he looked at Cal, tears falling down the boy’s face—mixing with crimson from the cuts across his temple.
“Cal.”
Obi-Wan’s voice could barely form the word as he started to struggle against the man on top of him again, the desperation leaching into his limbs as he tried to get free.
“Stop, stop!” the man barked at him, “I didn’t hurt him, Obi-Wan! I didn’t- you did that!”
Ob i-Wan stopped, again, eyes widening even as he shook his head.
“No, no-,” he started to mutter to himself.
“Please, Obi-Wan, let him help you. Please!” Cal pleaded and Obi-Wan felt like he couldn’t breathe.
“I- I didn’t. I didn’t- I would never-,” Obi-Wan mumbled to himself.
“It’s okay,” the man on top of him murmured and Obi-Wan looked up at him, throat tight, “It’s okay. You were sleeping, Obi-Wan. It’s alright.”
“Who- who are you?” Obi-Wan asked, words almost too quiet to hear.
“Jango,” the man replied, “My name is Jango. We found you being held prisoner during a raid on a compound that was known for harboring a group of Mandalorian terrorists.”
“Yeah just tell him who we are, why don’t you?”
Obi-Wan looked over at the man, his golden eyes narrowed and then back to Jango.
“Shut up, Myles,” Jango grunted out, “I didn’t ask you.”
Obi-Wan said nothing for a long time, trying to calm his pounding heartbeat and eyeing up the man on top of him as he stayed straddling Obi-Wan’s hips, body tensed for another fight.
“Where are we?” Obi-Wan finally asked, sounding wary.
The man sighed, shoulders relaxing as he leaned down, forehead pressed against the cot, breath hot against Obi-Wan’s shoulder.
“You’re safe,” Jango murmured.
“Safe…” Obi-Wan whispered.
“Safe,” Jango agreed, “We can figure out the rest as we go.”
Obi-Wan closed his eyes, forcing his body to relax against the cot.
“Cal,” he said, his voice rough.
“Obi-Wan?”
Cal still sounded scared and it made something tighten in Obi-Wan’s chest—the side of his face wet with the phantom stickiness of blood that wasn’t his.
“We’re safe,” Obi-Wan murmured, though it still felt tentative, like his words might shatter the very notion and he swallowed thickly at the thought.
“We’re safe,” Cal agreed, his voice weak.
“But you are hurt,” Obi-Wan whispered, the back of his head starting to ache as he tried to focus.
“He’ll be okay. Mij is getting him bacta. It’s just a small cut, nothing that can’t be fixed,” Jango murmured, “It’s alright, Obi-Wan. Relax.”
“You know my name,” Obi-Wan muttered.
“And you know mine,” Jango agreed, “So why don’t we start there?”
Obi-Wan said nothing for a moment before he finally nodded.
“Alright,” he agreed, “Let’s talk.”
“Better eat it. You’re gonna need the energy.”
Obi-Wan looked up at the guard, glaring with everything in him even as the man sneered at him, unbothered by the unrest that was leaching into the air around them.
“Be lucky that you’re finally being fed,” he snapped out angrily, “Or would you rather you and that useless kid of yours go back to starving? Because it’s no skin off my back if you both die.”
Obi-Wan said nothing, angrily shoving a piece of bread into his mouth to keep from grinding his teeth under the man’s scrutiny.
Just the feeling of being watched made him want to snarl and everything in him was screaming to do something about it, even though he knew that there wasn’t really anything to do.
They were trapped until Obi-Wan could find a way to get them out and every day it got harder and harder for him to think past the constant discomfort of being watched—harder to try to fight against the urge to not think and just pounce.
He shoved some of the stew into his mouth, not bothering to look up as the guard scoffed at him.
“Not such a pristine jetii anymore, are you? There was a time when I didn’t think you would ever break and now look at you, mindlessly shoving food into your mouth. Pre was right, you weren’t as tough as you looked.”
Obi-Wan said nothing, continuing to eat as he let the man’s words turn in his head, hoping that the fog might dissipate.
Ob i-Wan tilted his head up, letting his eyes close as the warmth of the sun hit his face—almost unable to believe that he was really sitting under it after so long being in the dark.
“Feels nice, doesn’t it?” Cal asked, his voice soft and when Obi-Wan opened his eyes Cal was smiling faintly at him.
“It does,” Obi-Wan murmured back, “It’s been a long time since I’ve felt the sun.”
“So you were a prisoner.”
Obi-Wan glanced back at the man who was watching him carefully, sitting in the grass of the gardens.
“Perhaps,” Obi-Wan agreed, turning back to Cal.
He looked good, copper hair shining in the sun and a soft smile on his face as he took a bite out of the wrapped sandwich in his hand, the paper crinkling softly in his grasp as he chewed thoughtfully, looking out at the gardens that they were sitting in as he settled into his spot comfortably.
“How- how long have you been coming to eat here?” Obi-Wan said, the realization that it wasn’t his first time hitting him in the chest like a speeder even as Cal’s eyes fell back to him.
“A few weeks,” he murmured after swallowing the bite he took, “They wanted to have you come with me but…well…it didn’t work out. You needed some time I think.”
“I don’t remember,” Obi-Wan replied, blinking as he looked down at the sandwich in his hand.
“You bit me,” Jango grunted out and despite himself, Obi-Wan could feel his cheeks turn pink.
He took a big bite of the sandwich, peeling back the paper so that he wouldn’t have to say anything, though the memory didn’t seem to bother Jango much at all.
“Does this mean that you’re feeling better?” Cal asked, his voice small.
Obi-Wan’s fingers tightened around the sandwich and he was quiet as he tried to think of what to say to the boy that might appease him.
“He’s getting there. We’ve talked about this, remember? It’s going to take some time.”
Jango’s voice was gentle as he talked to Cal and something tightened in Obi-Wan’s chest at the realization that Cal was so far from the scared kid who’d clung to his robes the day that they’d been taken.
He was taller and broader, looking more like a teenager than the child that Obi-Wan had told to call him by his name and it struck him that he didn’t even know how much time had passed.
He didn’t even know how old Cal was anymore.
“Wh-What year is it?” Obi-Wan asked, looking over at Jango despite knowing that he wouldn’t like the answer.
“It’s been five years,” Jango whispered, instead of answering Obi-Wan’s question—or rather anticipating what his actual question had been, Obi-Wan supposed.
“That’s-,” Obi-Wan started to shake his head as he took in the information, “That’s a long time.”
Five years meant that Cal was fourteen—a far cry from the nine-year-old boy who’d clung to his robes with fear in his eyes.
“It is,” Jango agreed, “A lot of time to lose. Are you- How does it feel, to know how long it’s been? Are you…?”
He trailed off but Obi-Wan knew what he meant, even if he didn’t.
Was he okay? Would knowing cause another break from reality?
Because that’d been what was happening.
Obi-Wan couldn’t cling to the reality of the world around him whenever his brain started to get fuzzy—like a fight or flight response that had no flight whenever he caught a glimpse of something that reminded him of his capture.
It was like he couldn’t come back from the war that he’d been fighting even though there’d never been any war to begin with.
At least, no war waged with him.
And still, he could feel the way his muscles had tensed at the man’s words like there was some unknown force that would jump out if he were to even move wrong.
“I’m fine,” Obi-Wan murmured, though it didn’t escape him that Jango shifted a little closer, the line of heat against Obi-Wan’s back making him relax minutely despite himself.
“Eat your sandwich,” Jango told Cal softly, “And then we can go for a walk, alright? Perhaps Obi-Wan would like to see some of the flowers we’ve got here. It’s the perfect weather for them to be in bloom today.”
“Okay,” Cal agreed, taking another bite of his sandwich.
Obi-Wan turned around, snarling and grabbing the man who was coming up behind him to slam his head into the cement of his cell, the sound reverberating through the space as he slammed an elbow back to catch one of the others in the neck before going for the third.
Obi-Wan slammed him into the ground with ease, hands wrapping around his neck as he clenched his fingers, holding them as the man started to struggle underneath him.
Someone grabbed him by the shoulder—yanking so hard that Obi-Wan thought the popping sound might be the joint—and Obi-Wan turned around, slamming his head into the man’s, his helmet ringing as Obi-Wan knocked him into the wall, ripping off the helmet to claw at the man’s face.
A stun rod hit his side and Obi-Wan bared his teeth even as his muscles seized up and he dropped uselessly onto his side, body still trembling from the electricity.
Someone grabbed him by his arms, folding them behind his back tightly as he snarled at the man in front of him—his helmet under his arm as he smirked at Obi-Wan.
“Again,” he said, “You’re almost there. Just a few more days of practice and I think that you’ll finally be ready.”
The arms let go of Obi-Wan and he pounced, slamming the man into the wall even as the man smiled at him, blood between his teeth as he shoved Obi-Wan off, slamming him down into the ground to grapple with him as Obi-Wan tried to break free.
He managed to slam his heel into the man’s knee and the man yelled out in pain as it gave out under him—stuck at an unnatural angle even as Obi-Wan elbowed him in the face, leaving the man unconscious as he knocked into the next man, clawing at the man’s throat as he shoved him against the wall.
Obi-Wan’s fingers were sticky with blood and it gave him a burst of energy as he turned around, bashing the next man in the head so that he fell down, climbing on top of him and landing a punch to make him dizzy.
He kept punching him until the man’s face was unrecognizable, only stopping when he was pulled off of the man again—two men holding onto him tightly as the stun rod hit his gut again, making his limbs seize even as he tried to keep control of them, trembling softly as he growled at the familiar face stepping into his cell.
“If yo u keep letting him go he’s going to kill someone,” one of the men holding him told the other man seriously, “He’s feral.”
“He’s almost perfect,” the man said, leering at Obi-Wan even as Obi-Wan’s face twisted into a snarl.
Obi-Wan jerked up, panic filling his veins like ice as he struggled against the arms around him, fingers scrabbling against skin as he tried to dig them in hard enough to break the skin in the hopes that he might get free.
“Stop, stop, Obi-Wan!”
Obi-Wan froze at the familiar voice, something soft and pained leaving his throat as Jango pressed his face against Obi-Wan’s neck, arms wrapping around his waist shakily.
“That’s it, that’s it,” Jango breathed against his skin, “I’ve got you. You’re okay, Ob’ika . You’re safe. It’s over. It’s all over.”
The anxiety made it hard to breathe and the panic poured over until Obi-Wan’s throat tightened as a broken sob fell from his lips.
Once he started he couldn’t stop and Jango pulled him tighter to his chest as he started to rub his side gently.
“I know, I know,” Jango whispered, “But it’s okay. It’s okay to break here, Ob’ika . I’ve got you. You’re doing so well. You’re so good.”
The fear was like concrete in his stomach and his throat ached as he continued to cry, fingers finding the cuffs around his wrists to start clawing at—anything to try to rid himself of the feelings of anger and panic and hurt that he couldn’t seem to shake, the calm and softness of the force so far away as he broke down in Jango’s arms.
“Hey, hey you’re making yourself bleed,” Jango murmured, trying to pull Obi-Wan’s hand away from his wrists and Obi-Wan let out another loud sob as his hands dropped uselessly in his lap, the realization that he’d never be able to get them off himself making something inside of him ache.
“We’re working on it, remember?” Jango whispered, “We’re going to get them off, Obi-Wan. I promised, remember? We just need to find someone who knows how to get them off. I’ve got you and I know it hurts right now but you are okay. Everything is okay.”
Obi- Wan turned abruptly, shoving his face into Jango’s neck and wrapping his shaky arms around the man’s neck as he curled against him, the soothing scent that he’d come to associate calm with making it a little easier to breathe.
“I need them off,” Obi-Wan finally said hoarsely, “I can’t take it anymore, Jango. I need them- I need them off of me. I need to- to feel it again.”
“It might help if you would tell me what they’re stopping,” Jango murmured, “So that I can call them by their name. It’s hard to find someone to disarm something when you don’t know what it is.”
“I- I can’t,” Obi-Wan whimpered, “I can’t- I just- I need them off. Please, please, you have to help me get them off.”
“I’ll help you get them off,” Jango said firmly, “Just like I promised, okay? I’ll help you.”
Obi-Wan squeezed his eyes shut, trying to match his breathing to Jango as he forced his shoulders to relax.
“I’ve got you,” Jango murmured, “You’re safe here, Obi-Wan. I’ve got you.”
“I know,” Obi-Wan agreed, “I know.”
Obi-Wan said nothing, face turned down as the sound of footsteps got closer, stopping as boots came into his view.
“He looks pretty harmless to me.”
“Then why don’t you open the cell and see just how harmless he is?”
“I said he looks harmless. I’m not an idiot. If you tell me he’s ready to join my ranks, then I assume there is something that I haven’t been told.”
“He’s the perfect machine, Priest. An attack hound, only better because it doesn’t matter who it is.”
“I’m not sure that is what you would call good,” Priest sounded uncertain, “What use is a man who attacks our men as well as the enemy, Vizsla?”
“The kind that can’t be persuaded otherwise,” Vizsla answered, “The kind that you can let out in a place like say…Keldabe Palace and be sure that he’ll fight to his very death.”
“You’re gonna let him lose in Keldabe Palace?” the man asked, eyes wide as he looked over at Vizsla, “He won’t last ten minutes against Fett and his crew. You’re out of your mind.”
“He’d be able to take down at least a dozen of them as he is now,” Vizsla murmured, “But once we take those cuffs off of him, they won’t stand a chance. With access to the force, he’ll be able to raze Keldabe Palace.”
“The Force?” Priest hissed, turning to Vizsla, “He’s a jetii ? Where did you find a kriffing jetii ?”
“That’s no matter right now,” Vizsla said and Obi-Wan could feel the man’s eyes burning into his skull, “What matters is what he’ll be able to do when we get him where he needs to go.”
“And how are you planning on doing that? If he’s as uncontrollable as you think he is?” Priest questioned.
“With the only thing he still cares about,” Vizsla murmured, “His padawan.”
“I thought you said that you’d take them off.”
Obi-Wan’s voice was weak as he spoke to Jango hoarsely, eyeing the man as Jango stepped closer.
“We did and we will,” Jango murmured, “But first I need to talk to you about something. We took them off of Cal and it was…it’s just a precaution, Obi-Wan.”
“A precaution,” Obi-Wan murmured, “To lock the both of us in a cell.”
“It’s a room,” Jango corrected, keeping his voice gentle, “It’s to keep both of us in, Obi-Wan. I’m not leaving and I don’t have a way to get out any more than you do. I’ve programmed an emergency code into the door but no one is coming anywhere near here unless I do that.”
“But- why? Where is- where is Cal?” Obi-Wan asked, his voice small.
“When we took the cuffs off him he passed out,” Jango said calmly, “We got him to the med hall and hooked him up to make sure that he was okay and he was. It was just overwhelming but we need to make sure that you’ll be okay. We don’t know how you’ll react and this- this is probably the best option. I have medical equipment in case we’ll need and it and-.”
“-and I’ll be away from people if I end up going berserk again,” Obi-Wan finished.
“We don’t know what’s going to happen,” Jango said again, a little more firmly, “It could all be okay, Obi-Wan.”
“But this is a big step,” Obi-Wan murmured.
“It’ll be okay,” Jango promised, “I’m right here if you need anything, alright?”
“Just like you always are,” Obi-Wan muttered, looking away from him even as Jango sighed and stepped forward.
“Ob i-Wan,” he murmured, “It’s alright to need help. That’s what I’m here for.”
“You’re here so that I can sleep in your bed and sit outside your shower stall every day?” Obi-Wan asked, flushing, “I can’t even be left alone long enough for you to have a shower, Jango.”
“It’s a big transition to go from a tiny cell where you always have to be ready to fight to a several thousand square foot palace that everyone keeps telling you is safe but houses every person you’ve ever been conditioned to fight,” he murmured, “And if we’re being honest, I don’t mind you in my bed. It’s warmer that way.”
“Yeah? Do you mind getting pinned down every time I have a nightmare?” Obi-Wan asked, a little bitterly.
“Don’t mind getting pinned down by you,” Jango whispered, “though I could think of a few reasons I’d prefer.”
“You aren’t funny,” Obi-Wan slapped Jango’s chest.
“I’m not trying to be,” Jango murmured, “I already laid all my cards out on the table. The offer isn’t going anywhere just because you’ve finally gotten out of whatever these are.”
Jango’s fingers danced along the edges of Obi-Wan’s cuffs.
“You really don’t know what they are?” Obi-Wan asked, “How do you have a key and you still don’t know what they are for? I mean really, Jango.”
“I didn’t ask any more questions than I had to,” Jango murmured, “I asked if they had a key, and they said yes. That was it, Obi-Wan. I was serious. You don’t have to tell me everything. It’s your pace.”
“Is this what you imagined when you saved me?” ObI-Wan asked, pressing his head against Jango’s collarbone, “That you’d end up here?”
“Definitely not. The last thing on my mind was us like this when you were trying to choke me out.”
Obi-Wan’s eyes narrowed as he looked up at the man.
“You’re lying,” he accused, “I can tell.”
“Okay, the thought might have passed my mind when your hands were around my neck but let’s just call it a character flaw and leave it at that, alright?” Jango murmured, arms wrapping around ObI-Wan’s waist.
“Yo u thought about dating me while I was trying to kill you?” Obi-Wan demanded.
“Dating? No. Kriffing you? It may have passed my mind for the slightest of seconds.”
“You can’t be kriffing serious, do you have an ounce of self-preservation in your body?” Obi-Wan scoffed, even as his fingers twisted into Jango’s kute, unwilling to let go of the man who had him in his arms.
“Somewhere in there,” Jango agreed, “Now, are we going to do this or not, Obi-Wan?”
Obi-Wan looked at the cuffs around his wrists for a long moment, half of him wondering how it would even feel, to have the weight no longer pressing against him constantly and he swallowed.
“Okay,” he agreed, “Do it.”
Jango’s hands moved to pull the key out of a hidden pocket, fingers sliding over Obi-Wan’s cuffs.
“Are you ready?” he asked, waiting until Obi-Wan’s eyes met his.
“I’m ready,” he agreed, “Please.”
The key slipped into the lock, clicking as the cuffs loosened about Obi-Wan’s wrists before falling to the ground with a loud thunk.
There was a roaring in Obi-Wan’s ears and suddenly he felt dizzy—all of his senses overwhelmed by the sheer amount of information flooding in—and Obi-Wan’s fingers scrabbled against Jango’s chest as he whimpered, something desperate in his bones that he didn’t know how to put a name to.
He needed something .
He needed something and he didn’t know what and every bone in his body suddenly ached with it as he clawed at Jango, panic and desperation fighting in equal measure as he let out a whine.
“Obi-Wan, Obi-Wan it’s okay, it’s okay,” Jango’s lips pressed against his ear, “I’ve got you. What do you need?”
“It’s- it’s too much,” Obi-Wan whimpered, “I need- I need- something to- make it stop please!”
“I don’t know how,” Jango breathed, “I don’t know how to help. Please, I don't know how to help.”
“A- A distraction. I need a- a-.”
Obi-Wan stopped, looking at Jango for a long moment and then he jerked forward, slamming their lips together as he wrapped his arms around the man’s neck, pressing their bodies together tightly.
“Obi- Obi-Wan,” Jango muttered against his lips, unable to help but kiss him again even as he gripped Obi-Wan’s arms, pushing him back gently, “This isn’t- We should talk about this.”
Obi-Wan’s head was pounding—every touch and smell and taste hammering his senses—and he only clung to Jango harder, nipping hard at his bottom lip.
“Please,” Obi-Wan murmured, “We can talk about this later, Jango, but I- I really need this. Please just- please . I need to just- focus on one thing and I can- I can focus on this.”
Obi-Wan’s hand brushed against Jango’s shoulder as he looked up at him and Jango tilted his head to press a kiss to Obi-Wan’s lips before he looked over Obi-Wan for a long moment, the hesitation clear on his face.
“Alright,” Jango agreed after searching Obi-Wan’s gaze, “But you have to be sure, Ob’ika . This is faster than what we planned. A lot faster.”
“Now, Jango.”
Obi-Wan’s fingers dug into Jango’s shoulders as he spoke and Jango’s fingers tightened his hold on Obi-Wan’s hips.
Jango let Obi-Wan pull him to the ground, elbows on either side of Obi-Wan’s shoulders as the man pulled him down again, shoving their lips together in a rough kiss as one of his legs wrapped around Jango’s waist.
The roar in his head dulled as Jango kissed his temple, dragging his lips along Obi-Wan’s neck as he trailed along the skin—switching between small nips and kisses as he looked up at him with a little uncertainty.
“I’m sure,” Obi-Wan answered Jango’s wordless question as he started to pull at the hem of his shirt, sliding it off his body and then gasping softly as Jango ducked his head down right away to start pressing kisses down his sternum.
It was easier to block everything else out as Jango’s mouth trailed down his stomach, dark eyes watching Obi-Wan carefully as he started to tug lightly at his pants.
“Please,” Obi-Wan breathed, gasping softly as Jango pulled his underwear and pants down—kicking them off once they were around his ankles as Jango's face pressed against his inner thigh, Jango’s breath against his cock making Obi-Wan twitch.
“Yeah?” Jango murmured against his skin, “What do you say, mesh’la ?”
“Please,” Obi-Wan whispered, sucking in a sharp breath as a warm mouth wrapped around his cock, Jango’s lips around the head of Obi-Wan’s cock as he wrapped a large, warm hand around the rest as he started to suck softly, his hand stroking in time as Obi-Wan squirmed under him.
Obi-Wan’s arm fell over his face as Jango took more into his mouth, bobbing his head up and down as Obi-Wan started to heave in breaths, heat swirling in his gut as his hips twitched into Jango’s mouth, unable to help it even as a firm hand held them in place.
“Please, please, kriff it feels so good,” Obi-Wan muttered as Jango took him to the hilt, swallowing around his cock as Obi-Wan’s head thrashed back and forth, thighs trembling.
Obi-Wan’s eyes fluttered shut as his flush started to climb down his chest, the only thing he could focus on was the way that Jango’s mouth felt wrapped around him, the man’s throat squeezing around Obi-Wan’s cock with every swallow.
“I’m gonna- kriff Jango, I’m going-,” Obi-Wan tried to force out as his orgasm crested, body shuddering with it as he came down Jango’s throat, whimpering softly as his toes started to curl.
Jango pulled back, smirking at Obi-Wan as he whimpered—shivering as he caught the drops of come on the corners of Jango’s lips.
“Turn around,” Jango ordered, pulling off his shirt in one smooth motion before he started to yank his pants down, cock popping out of them and bobbing up and down heavily between his legs.
Obi -Wan could feel his mouth water and without thinking he sat up, leaning on his forearms as he mouthed at Jango’s cock lightly to taste the saltiness of the precome that was dripping from the darkened tip.
“Kark,” Jango cursed as he yanked his pants off completely, “A little eager are we?”
“Says the man going commando,” Obi-Wan murmured against Jango’s cock, gasping softly when Jango twisted a hand into his hair, pulling him up to press their lips together.
Obi-Wan whimpered as Jango pulled his hair lightly, eyes dark with interest as he let his gaze run up and down Obi-Wan’s body.
“Yeah? Is that something that you like?” Jango murmured against Obi-Wan’s ear before he kissed his temple, licking up his neck before locking eyes with him again, “Do you still want to be kriffed, Ob’ika ? We can just leave it here if you are feeling better.”
Obi-Wan shivered as a bolt of want travelled down his spine, pushing aside the memory of panic that had filled his veins when the cuffs had first been unlocked to focus on the feeling of want and care that was coming from Jango—even though the man’s face was stone, giving away nothing about what he did or didn’t want.
“I still want it,” he murmured, “I want it so hard that I can’t think of anything but your cock.”
“We’re going to have to do this dirty,” Jango warned, “All I have is bacta. Is this how you want it-?”
Jango pressed forward, wrapping his arms around Obi-Wan to pull Obi-Wan tightly to his chest, mouth against his ear.
“-a quick, dirty kark against the floor like animals? This is how you want it to start?”
“It’s how we started everything else,” Obi-Wan said breathlessly, “Why can’t we start the rest of our lives like this, Jango?”
“Because I want to do this for a very long time,” Jango whispered, “And I don’t want this to be the first and only time because we decided to bareback on a concrete floor in this room instead of doing things right.”
“An d what if I tell you one of my favorite things used to be barebacking on the living room floor of my quarters because we were too desperate to make it to my bedroom? What would you say then?” Obi-Wan asked.
“I’d say that I always knew you’d be a kriffing tease,” Jango nipped at ear lobe, “But is that how you want this to go?”
“I want to forget anything else exists,” Obi-Wan pleaded, “Everything except you.”
Jango growled, the noise soft as he manhandled Obi-Wan onto his hands and knees, pressing against Obi-Wan’s back as he grabbed his pants, pulling a bacta packet out of them and ripping it with his teeth before shakily pouring it out onto his fingers.
“I’m going to make sure the only thing you can remember is my cock inside of you,” Jango threatened as he smeared some of the bacta against Obi-Wan’s hole, “Show you that I’m the only thing that you’ll ever need.”
“Yes,” Obi-Wan agreed, “I want that, please Jango, I want that.”
Jango slipped a finger in, working Obi-Wan open quickly as he nipped at his shoulder, panting as he resisted the urge to just start humping the man—his hard cock pressed against Obi-Wan’s back as he pushed a second finger in, groaning softly as Obi-Wan trembled around them.
“Kark,” Obi-Wan cursed, the words a weak whimper and Jango kissed his temple.
“Still good?” he checked, crooking his fingers as he opened Obi-Wan up roughly.
“It’s good,” Obi-Wan agreed, panting underneath Jango as the man spread his fingers.
He pushed the third one in quicker than he would have liked but he was already too worked up—his hips twitching into Obi-Wan as he started to hump him softly, so desperate that he thought he might burst from just the feeling of the man’s tight ass around his fingers.
“Kriff me,” Obi-Wan demanded, arms trembling so much that Jango didn’t know how they were still holding him up, “Please now, Jango.”
Jango pulled his fingers free, taking his aching cock into his hands and pumping himself a few times, hissing at the feeling as he lined himself up with Obi-Wan’s hole, his other hand holding one of Obi-Wan’s hips to keep him still as he pressed inside of him—slow and steady as Obi-Wan let out a strangled noise underneath him.
It was almost too much to take and Jango couldn’t even let him adjust before he was fucking him, shoving a hand to hold Obi-Wan down by the small of his back so that he could start pounding into the man, chasing his orgasm desperately inside the man’s tight ass.
Punched out noises left Obi-Wan’s throat as he moaned for Jango, pushing back into Jango’s thrusts to force him deeper as he wrapped a shaky hand around his cock, jerking himself off quickly as the heat started to become too much for Jango.
He came so hard he saw stars as he wrapped his arms around Obi-Wan, pressing the man into the floor as he ground into him, filling him with come as he panted through his climax.
Jango wrapped a shaky hand around Obi-Wan’s cock—slapping away Obi-Wan’s own hand—to jerk him off quickly, thumbing at the tip until Obi-Wan groaned, coming for the second time as he trembled under Jango.
There was a loud clatter but Jango was so lightheaded with his orgasm that he barely picked his head up in time to watch as equipment started to hover over the ground before crashing down as Obi-Wan collapsed onto the ground, his shaky hand finding Jango to pull the man down on top of him.
“What the kriff?” Jango muttered and Obi-Wan grinned weakly at him.
“If this was the only time then I want you to know that it was worth it,” Obi-Wan murmured, fingers squeezing around Jango’s, “Even if it wasn’t soft it was still special for me.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Jango asked, arms tightening around Obi-Wan subconsciously at the thought of the man leaving him even as something angry and desperate built in his chest, “Are you trying to pull this shit right now, Obi-Wan? I’m still inside of you or did you forget?”
He ground against Obi-Wan’s ass as if to prove his point and Obi-Wan’s grip on his hand tightened.
“I didn’t forget,” Obi-Wan whispered, “I’m just…letting you know. I thought—the things moving without me touching them, Jango. Surely you must understand what I’m saying to you.”
Jango swallowed thickly.
“ Jetii ,” he murmured, something settling uncomfortably behind his ribs at the realization.
Obi-Wan lowered himself against the floor, twisting himself uncomfortably so that he was facing Jango as he cupped the man’s face.
“The cuffs. They were force-suppressing cuffs.”
Obi-Wan’s voice was weak as he spoke, face creased with stress.
“The only thing that would have been able to stand up to a group of supercommandos,” Jango realized, “A jetiise who was trained as a Mandalorian.”
“It didn’t work,” Obi-Wan whispered, “He never got the chance- I- I may not have known who I was saving but he- he never would have gotten the chance to enact his plan. I hope that you know that even if- even if you don’t want this anymore.”
“You killed Pre Vizsla.”
The realization sat heavy in Jango’s stomach at the memory of how the man had already been cut down before they’d even arrived—the compound in a flurry of activity before Jango and his men had even set foot in their territory.
The door blew and Jango gestured for his team to follow him as he rushed into the room, blaster drawn as he looked around for his mark.
His display was dark as he looked around until he froze—the signature in front of him was undeniably human-shaped even though it read too cool to be alive.
He shot forward, jerking back the blanket in his way and aiming his blaster even as the figure didn’t move.
“Holy kark.”
Myles’s voice was strangled and Jango clicked off the heat sensors in his helmet, swallowing thickly as the sickly crimson that was leaching into the blanket.
Pre Vizsla’s throat was slit, his eyes widened in surprise and his body cool to the touch when Jango’s gloved fingers brushed against the man’s pulse point.
“He’s already dead,” Kal said flatly from somewhere behind Jango, “Maybe that’s why everyone’s awake at this hour. Shouldn’t have killed that last guard, after all, I guess.”
“Check the whole compound,” Jango said tightly as he looked back at his men, “Find out who’s taken the helm. We need to know before they get away.”
“I had the chance and I took it,” Obi-Wan agreed and Jango’s grip tightened as Obi-Wan’s muscles tensed, like he was going to try to get away from him.
“Then how did you end up back in that cell?” Jango asked.
“I locked myself back up when I heard that there’d been an attack on the compound,” Obi-Wan said quietly, “I might have been prepared to kill Pre and escape when I knew all of the guards' patterns but I couldn’t, not with a new variable.”
“Could you have gotten away from me?” Jango asked.
Obi-Wan shrugged, “I don’t know. At first…no, I don’t think so and then…”
Jango pressed his lips to Obi-Wan’s temple as he closed his eyes.
“...I didn’t want to,” Obi-Wan admitted, “We were safe and well cared for and before I’d known it I’d started to care for you more than I’d have cared to admit so I…didn’t. I stopped trying. It wasn’t as if Cal had known what I had done and it was easier to…give us both the time to heal, instead of running and putting a target on our backs.”
“And now?” Jango asked, his voice weak, “Now you go back home and forget this ever happened?”
“No,” Obi-Wan whispered, “Not unless that’s what you want. I- I can’t speak for Cal but I- I want to stay. I don’t want to leave you, Jango. I don’t want to leave this-.”
He squeezed Jango’s hand.
“-whatever it is we have, I want it. I’ve needed this peace to heal but now that I don’t have it I don’t want to let it go either. If I had the choice then I- I don’t think I’d go back, if we’re being honest.”
“You want to stay?” Jango asked, swallowing thickly as Obi-Wan nodded against him.
“Yeah,” Obi-Wan agreed, “I do.”
“Then stay,” Jango said, hugging Obi-Wan so tight it nearly felt like he was clinging.
“I’ll have to talk to Cal,” Obi-Wan whispered, “If he wants to go home then I can’t-.”
“Then we’ll find a way to get him home,” Jango promised, “I- I won’t say that it won’t hurt a little but he deserves the choice. You- you both do even if-.”
He stopped, breath catching in his throat for a second before he could finish.
“-even if I want you both to stay,” Jango finished, “Even if I feel like you’ve both become one of us.”
“Then we’ll talk to him,” Obi-Wan whispered, “But- but I’m not going anywhere. I’m staying with you.”
“Good,” Jango whispered, “Because I didn’t want to let you go anyway.”
Jango pressed his face into Obi-Wan’s neck, taking a shaky breath as he pulled the man so that he could move them both onto their sides, wrapping his body around Obi-Wan’s.
“Me either.”
“I- I don’t believe it.”
Aayla looked over at her master in confusion as she took in the stupefied look on his face, following his gaze to look at an auburn-haired man dressed in scarlet beskar .
“You’ve never seen a Mandalorian?” Aayla asked, blinking in confusion as she took in the strange and somehow familiar symbol pressed in black on the man’s pauldron.
“Obi-Wan!”
The auburn man looked over—his face going pale as she looked at his master and Aayla frowned as Master Vos started to shove through the crowd towards him, following behind him nervously.
“I’m not sure I know who you are talking about. My name is Ben,” the man said, his voice stiff but his accent too crisp to be from anywhere but the inner rim and Aayla’s face scrunched up even more as he shifted the blonde-haired child on his hip, his blue eyes looking at Aayla in wonder as he leaned tighter against the older man.
“Obi-Wan,” Master Vos said again, his voice more firm, “What the- where have you been?”
“ Buir? ” the small boy asked, his eyes looking up at his father and the man—Obi-Wan, apparently—turned to give the boy a reassuring smile.
“It’s okay,” he promised, “It’s just a misunderstanding, Ani. I fear that perhaps I look like an old friend.”
“Are you serious?” Master Vos asked, “Obi-Wan, please. We all thought you were dead. Where have- where have you been ? And what about- what about Cal?”
“My name is Ben. I have a son,” Obi-Wan responded evenly, “Who looked very much like me and…and he loves his ge’buir very much so I’ll have to ask that you not bother him.”
“Bother him?” Master Vos demanded, “Obi-Wan have you lost your-?”
Obi-Wan reached out, grasping Master Vos’s hand firmly, a serious look on his face.
“I think I look like an old friend,” he repeated, his voice a little firmer, “But perhaps we can have some caf together if you would like. I don’t mind meeting another friend to keep in touch with.”
Something changed in her Master’s face and Aayla frowned as Master Vos nodded.
“Caf then,” he agreed, “Maybe with…”
He eyed the boy that Obi-Wan was holding, “...with your son’s other father?”
Obi-Wan looked at him for a long moment before his shoulders relaxed a little.
“Jango,” he supplied, “His name is Jango. And I think that perhaps you two might get along if you were to meet. Let me ask him and see what he thinks. How about you give me your comm?”
“Master, we've got a mission,” Aayla murmured, tugging on her master’s wrist wrap, “Aren’t we supposed to be leaving shortly?”
“We’ve got some extra time,” Master Vos promised, looking back at her with something in his eyes that she couldn’t quite put a name to, “How about you comm Master Windu and let him know that we’ve been delayed by about a day. Tell him I’ve had something important come up; intel that I can’t let slip.”
“Oh-okay,” she agreed, a little unsure, “I’ll let him know.”
Obi-Wan smiled—the corners of his lips a little tight—and Aayla turned to walk back towards their inn rooms, only to stop when her master’s hand landed on her shoulder.
“I think that perhaps I might walk with you,” he said—and half of her wanted to argue with him that she hardly needed a babysitter but she didn’t as she looked at the tight look on his face, unable to shake the feeling that perhaps her master had seen a ghost.
Jango eyed the man, unable to help but size up the Jetii Master and his padawan as the man sat quietly, face neutral even as the smaller girl looked at them with visible awe.
“He’s my son,” Jango finally murmured, eyes falling on Cal as the boy seemed to tense even harder, Anakin sitting in his lap unworried as he played with the teen’s vambrace.
“I’ve gathered as much,” the Jetii Master —Quinlan Vos—agreed lightly.
“Ben is my husband,” Jango continued the lie of a name slipping off his tongue easily.
It was the name that everyone on Mandalore knew—the man Jango Fett, Mand’alor of the Mandalorian Empire, had married from what was assumed to have been a stricter clan from one of Mandalore’s colonies.
Ben Kenobi never took off his buy’ce during a public appearance, instead reserving the right to see his face to only Jango and his people—something that had earned him the respect of some of the more traditional clans of Mandalore, though it wasn’t much done in present times.
He had the mandokar of a Mandalorian, the sharp tongue of a politician, and a love for Jango and their children that had won him the hearts of everyone on Mandalore—save a few unsavoury faces that wouldn’t have been welcome regardless.
Cal Kenobi-Fett was much the same loved—though touted as infinitely softer than his buire , a caring hand that loved to watch over the ade on the planet and was trusted by every single buire on the planet to be able to care for any child at any time.
Where he had come from didn’t matter. What mattered was Ben—and later Jango—had adopted him and that he was Mandalorian.
They were both Mandalorian.
They were both his .
“Ben, huh?” Vos asked quietly, “I didn’t know him by the name.”
“That’s the name that my people and I know him as,” Jango said evenly, “And that’s the name that he’s given so I’d have to ask that you respect that.”
“I see,” Vos murmured, “I knew an Obi-Wan Kenobi who looked a lot like him. He was on Mandalore during the A 'den’ca. When Death Watch took Sundari he and one of our padawan learners—Cal Ketsis—were taken in a raid. We looked for months to no avail. We’ve always thought them both dead.”
“I’m sorry for your loss,” Jango replied, “ Nu kyr'adyc, shi taab'echaaj'la. ”
“Not gone indeed,” Vos agreed.
“Ben and Cal were from one of our colonies,” Jango said smoothly, “Although, it may bring you peace to know that we raided Death Watch’s main camp nearly five years ago. Their leader, Pre Vizsla, is dead and anyone that he was holding against their will was released to go wherever it was they pleased.”
“And I suppose they didn’t all want to go home,” Vos murmured, sitting back as Ben placed a cup in front of him—the cup steaming from the caf inside of it.
“I suppose that perhaps after being released it took some time for them to heal. And that after so much time away things didn’t always feel like home for them,” Ben murmured, “I’d rather think it important to respect their choices—because I know for a fact that everyone was given a choice.”
Vos was quiet for a long moment, his eyes searching Ben’s before he seemed to find what he needed.
“Then maybe it’s best we leave things there,” Vos agreed, “And you could tell me how you’ve been doing. You look like someone I once knew.”
“I’m sure I do,” Ben agreed, “And I’d be happy to meet a new friend.”