Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The smoke was unbearable. Obi-Wan coughed into his elbow, the ash and smog burning his throat.

Once again, the streets of Melida/Daan’s battle-torn capital were burning. Obi-Wan looked left and right, then he quickly sprinted across the cracked concrete street, ducking around the rubble of broken houses. The fiver-year-old riding on his back clutched at the ragged remains of his Jedi tunic tightly, trying her best not to whimper as his movement jolted her badly broken leg.

Obi-Wan ducked back into cover and glanced at the child on his back.

“Sssh, it’s alright, Rani. We’re almost there. Just, just a bit further until we reach the sewers.” He attempted to soothe the frightened child, his gut twisting at the sight of the mangled leg.

‘At least she isn’t bleeding any more. The bandages worked, we just need to get to Mawat.’ Obi-Wan tried to reassure himself.

But the cold feeling in his stomach wouldn’t go away. It wasn’t just the blood. There were burns too. Damaged nerves, the possibility of infection, all sorts of things that the Young weren’t prepared to fight against. Rani had a real struggle ahead of her. And she was only five years old.

The Elders had cleverly figured out how the children were spying on them and had placed a blaster trap. And that trap had gotten a lucky hit.

Obi-Wan didn’t know if it was sheer luck or the Force that allowed him to witness the child getting hurt. But he did know that he wasn’t leaving the kid in the middle of enemy territory. He was doing this whole thing for the children’s sake after all. For the lives of his friends.

“Once we reach the sewers, Mawat will help fix your leg up real nicely. You’ll like that huh? I’ll bet he’ll tell you a story too. Maybe you’ll even get a whole rat’s leg to yourself if you feel up to it.” Obi-Wan gave her a weak grin.

Rani looked at him with large panicked brown eyes, messy sweaty strands of black hair sticking to her small face. Her skin was far too pale for his liking. “Mawat is going to try and kill the Elders for this.”

Obi-Wan sighed heavily. To say that Mawat was protective of Rani was an understatement. Once Rani was stable, Mawat was going to try and get back at the Elders, no matter what Nield said.

“Yeah. He is, isn’t he?” Obi-Wan chuckled faintly as he scanned the street.

If it weren’t for the Jedi ways he once upheld, Obi-Wan would probably have done the same. He was trying hard to ignore the fact that he wanted to get back at them too. Badly.

'Stop. That will lead you to the Dark Side. Focus. You need to get Rani help. You need to get her to the sewers." Obi-Wan thought. Then they sprinted across the street once again.

Somewhere in the capitol, another bomb went off. The blast was far off, yet the noise made Obi-Wan grind his teeth together. That was too close for his liking. He stopped, panting. Which path would be the least dangerous? It was getting harder and harder to judge.

Then he got the oddest feeling trickling down his spine. Something was watching him.

A quick scan of his surroundings revealed nothing. But the feeling remained. He definitely was being watched. Obi-Wan quickly turned left, trying to avoid the likely culprit. An adult. The possibility of violence wasn’t a gamble he was willing to take, not with Rani on his back.

He stopped dead in his tracks when some kind of creature darted out from underneath some rubble suddenly. The creature was fast, skittering next to him in the blink of an eye.

Obi-Wan’s breath caught in his throat. ‘What, what is that?’

Meldia/Daan didn’t have many native creatures, but the largest of those creatures were cat-sized. Built for scurrying among the ruins of the urban city. Which meant someone brought this creature from off-planet. Obi-Wan couldn’t recognize any animals that had six legs, those weird yellow eyes, or that many sharp teeth.

Except... Maybe...

One hand darted to the durasteel blade at his belt, the other went out to hold Rani in place. Obi-Wan brandished the blade at the creature, hoping to try and scare it off. The creature halted, spotting Rani.

They stood like that for a few moments, staring each other down. Obi-Wan got the uncomfortable feeling that he was being watched by something. He bit his lip thinking fast. Reaching out a hand he tried to use the Force to grab a piece of wreckage and throw it down the street.

It was a lot harder than it should have been. His pale bruised hand was trembling with exertion. His breath came in short gasps as he strained to use the power that once came so easily to him.

‘It shouldn’t be like this. I am a Jedi!’ Obi-Wan gritted his teeth. Something sharp and painful clawed in his chest. ‘No, you were a Padawan. A Padawan that has left the Jedi Order.’

Then finally he succeeded. The strange creature’s head whipped to the side, following the noise.

Obi-Wan took advantage of the distraction to run in the opposite direction. The creature watched him flee, yellow eyes blinking slowly. Only once he was far away from the creature did he slow down. Obi-Wan slumped into an alleyway, panting from the exertion.

He gritted his teeth in frustration. Since when did he become so weak? Back at the Temple he could carry two younglings on his back just fine, and lift several cushions with the Force. Now he was struggling to carry a five-year-old? Barely able to lift a piece of metal? Obi-Wan winced, shaking his head roughly.

The Padawan braid that he still wore slapped against his bruised cheek with every shake. ‘You aren’t strong enough to do this,’ The small voice rasped in the back of his mind. ‘Look at yourself.’

Obi-Wan stared at his pale thin arms, covered with scratches and bruises. He hadn't been eating properly for a while. He had lost weight during the two months he had spent here. Perhaps that’s why his arms were trembling with exhaustion. Tears pricked at the corners of his eyes and he angrily brushed them away.

“Focus,” He whispered. “Focus, what could that creature be? Is it at all dangerous?”

A suspicion arose, one that he didn’t want to consider. Yet, he forced himself to consider it. Obi-Wan grimaced, tasting bile in his throat. ‘Could that have been...?’

There wasn’t a youngling in the entire Temple that hadn’t heard some sort of rumor or story about the Mandalorian Empire. Bad blood existed between their two groups for literal centuries. There was a very good reason for that, however. The Mandalorians were willing to aid the Sith, and they had aided the Sith many times. And that wasn’t something that the Jedi could ever allow.

Obi-Wan shivered. There were some Jedi Masters that lived long enough to have known Tarre Vizsla. One of the Jedi that left the Order to join the Mandalorian Empire.
Whether Tarre Vizsla left willingly or had been kidnapped was a hotly discussed debate whispered between younglings as they lay on their sleeping mats.

Naturally, Ouinlan loved every story about the Mandalorians that they fought against. Especially the ones that spoke of the mystical creatures on their planet. Not many Republican-friendly travelers went to the Mandalorian homeworld, for obvious reasons. But that didn't stop the stories and rumors.

One of them spoke about creatures like these. But that was impossible. Why would the Mandalorian Empire be interested in an urban planet fighting a civil war? A civil war that was tearing the whole planet apart?

Unless... Unless the adults told the Mandalorians about the Jedi youngling here. The Jedi youngling that didn't have a Master to protect them.

Obi-Wan swallowed, fear curling in his gut. Then he realized with a jolt that he was afraid.

"No, stop that! Fear leads to anger, anger leads to hate, and hate," Obi-Wan swallowed. "Hate leads to the Dark Side." 

He flinched at the sound of blaster pistols firing off in the distance. That could be the Elders, or it could be the neutral middle-aged group trying to gain back fighting ground in the wrecked capital. Either one spelled disaster for him and the kid.

“I’m cold.” The five-year-old said weakly.

Obi-Wan sharply turned his head. Rani was deathly pale, sweat glistening on her skin. She was in shock.

‘Of course, Rani’s in shock. She just experienced severe trauma. Force, what do I do?’ Obi-Wan stamped down on the threads of panic swirling in his stomach.

This was getting worse and worse. It was a wonder that Rani hadn’t passed out from the pain. Now, more than ever, Obi-Wan wished that he knew how to heal the body with the Force. Even with Mawat's skill, there was no guarantee that it would heal properly.

There was a noise. Faint and soft. Obi-Wan jerked, grabbing his blade and pointing at where the noise came from. His heart stopped at the same moment.

The creature was crawling on top of the building behind him, clearly following him. And once more, he felt that strange feeling of being watched. Then footsteps sounded on the cracked concrete. Something, or someone, was tracking him down.

Obi-Wan was afraid. So he ran.

A voice sounded behind him. “Ke’pare!”

This time as he ran, he ran for several blocks, barely stopping to check for danger. Despite the obvious strain he was putting on himself, Obi-Wan pushed himself to run faster, harder. Fear made him continue to run, despite the burning in his legs, and the screaming of his lungs.

‘Finally!’ Obi-Wan nearly sobbed with relief. ‘The sewer grate!’

He scrambled inside, dragging Rani along quickly. His heart clenched as she softly cried out in pain, but there was no time to comfort her. Obi-Wan peeked his head out, searching for the creature. He was greeted with the sight of a heavily armored individual standing near the grate. The T-shaped visor made his gut twist.

Perhaps the Mandalorians were actually here. Luckily for him, he was far enough inside the sewer’s entrance to avoid being spotted. But the sight unnerved him nonetheless.

Obi-Wan swallowed roughly. ‘How did they follow me so quickly?’

Their back turned toward him as they scanned the area. That’s when Obi-Wan spotted the jetpack strapped to their back. They were searching for him, Obi-Wan realized. And that creature probably could smell him.

Which means that in order to avoid a lot of trouble, they were going to have to move. It meant that Nield and the other children would have to evacuate and head into a different part of the city sewers. It meant moving the already injured and sick.

And there was every possibility that they might run into another blaster trap. Or a bomb. Or the adults could figure out where they are by all the noise they’ll end up making.

“Kriff.” Obi-Wan swore angrily, not even caring that he was angry in that moment.

<><><>

Bukur nudged its snout onto Jaster’s leg.

When Jaster ignored the Striil it pawed at him, demanding. Jaster turned from the starship’s desk and glanced at the starship’s metal floor, where Bukur sat looking up at him.

Jaster eyed Bukur with an unimpressed look. “What?”

Bukur nudged him again pointedly.

Jaster shook his head and ran a gloved hand through his graying hair, carefully avoiding the swollen lump on his head. “Bukur, I’m not brooding. I’m reading. Look, see?”

He waved the data-pad in front of Bukur’s snout. “Nothing you need to kriffing distract me from.”

Bukur gazed at him with its golden eyes, patiently waiting. Jaster gave a put upon groan but he petted Bukur all the same. Only a di’kut would disregard their Striil.
Even if that Striil was acting like a mother tooka.

Then again, Jango and Arla had been no better. Neither had Mijr, the medic responsible for giving Jaster his pills and replacing the bacta bandages. There was a reason that Jaster was camped out up here in his starship’s office after all.

Bukur, delighted with the attention, wagged its thin whip-like tail. He absentmindedly continued to pet Bukur’s head as he reviewed the list of supplies that they had secured on this campaign. Melida/Daan, being an urban planet, had some interesting possibilities for supplies. The civil war was just a bonus, a little extra bit of excitement for the Mando’ade.

Perhaps there would be some potential recruits here as well. They could use some fresh blood. Especially after...

Jaster sighed, glancing at his buy’ce. The ship’s lights shone off of it’s polished green surface, highlighting the recent dent it had received. It sat on the desk, reflecting Jaster’s tired face at him. The assassination attempt had been a close thing. Closer than it should have been.

If his adiiks hadn’t been there, shooting at those hut'tuun. If Bukur hadn't knocked him to the ground. If those Mando’ade hadn’t thrown themselves at that hut’tuun dar’jetti and those Kyr’stad aruetii..

Jaster leaned down and rubbed Bukur’s back. He was getting old. Too old for this, it felt like sometimes. Technically there was an officer who was more than capable of doing the paperwork for him, but Jaster needed something boring to keep his thoughts on. Something to focus on other than the things out of his control. And his starship’s office was a good place to distract him, full of mindless work that came with running an entire empire.

His comm beeped.

Jaster raised an eyebrow at it when he glanced at the caller’s ID. Why was one of Jango’s officers calling him of all people? Jaster’s brow furrowed. Was this another one of Arla’s pranks, meant to cheer her buir up from his brooding?

Jaster answered it anyways, curious. If it was a prank, there were ways to retaliate. Ways that involved glitter and paint. Bright neon paint that was an obnoxious color.

“Su cuy’gar Myles. I’m assuming this is important?” He asked dryly.

Myles thankfully got straight to the point. “‘Alor. Something strange is going on down here, strange enough that Jango wanted your advice.”

Jaster groaned. If something strange was going on, then it was the Jetti or it was the Dar’jetti. And he wasn’t in the mood to deal with either of those petty arrogant bastards. Surely the Dar’jettti knew better than to try something right after their assassin had gotten killed. Then again, this was the Dar’jetti.

“Elaborate.” He said.

“We were doing our usual stuff and then all of a sudden, one of our warriors got approached with a claim that there were Jetti on the planet. Wounded Jetti to be specific.”

“Sounds like a trap or a trick,” Jaster hummed. “What did my ad’ika do?”

“Jango had me and Ruld scout it out while he took care of the invasion. I’ve checked with all three groups and they all say different things. Melida claims that there are three Jetti here, Daan claims two, and the neutral party says there are none currently but there was a Cabur’jetti and a Jetti adiik here.”

“Osik.” Jaster drew in a long breath, a painful headache starting to form around that lump on his head.

Bukur whined softly.He knew that it was best to assume the worst-case scenario when dealing with Jetti or Dar’jetti. So if there were a Jetti and a hurt Jetti adiik down there in the middle of a civil war, that could get seriously nasty.

Jetti were viciously protective of their adiiks when they got hurt. Even Mando’ade would hesitate to confront a Jetti who was angry enough to lash out.

When the person that was able to hurl objects through the air using their karking mind was that angry, it was best to not be the target. There were stories about what the Jetti were capable of. What they could do if they wanted to. It was well known that a Jetti had the potential to turn into a Dar’jetti if pushed enough.

“So potentially this Cabur‘jetti is either sitting on their shebs, waiting for us to clear out because they have the adiik with them, or the adiik is hurt and they are trying to contact their Temple for rescue. Which means they possibly could attempt something reckless.” Jaster mused.

“There is something else going on, Alor,” Myles said thinly, his tone off. “Something that has a few Mando’ade on edge.”

“Oh?” Jaster prompted.

“There aren’t any adiik in either group. If we ask, they say that there are no adiiks nearby. Yet, the Striils are going utterly nuts,” Myles growled the next part. “ We at least know that there are wounded adiik somewhere nearby. Even if we can’t see any trace of them, the Striils are acting funny. Mine keeps scratching at the sewer grates.”

Jaster stiffened. He didn’t like the sound of it. Striil were highly intelligent creatures and more often than not, they could pick something up that everyone had missed.

“But that’s not the only thing. The adults keep talking about this ‘young’ army.” Myles’s voice shook slightly at the end.

Jaster gripped his desk tightly. “Haar’chak, Verd'adiik.” He hissed, disgust dripping from his voice.

Sometimes the Dar’jetti, the kriffing corrupt Republic, or even some nasty low-life thought it a good idea to send adiik to fight the Mando’ade. It was a disgusting strategy, but one that worked. Until the Mando’ade got the adiiks to safety, that is.

“Demagolka,” Myles agreed. “No concrete proof yet, but those two things together is concerning.”

There was a noise in the background of the comm. Jaster listened as Myles’s fellow scout talked to him urgently.

Myles cursed. “Bic ni skana'din.”

“Me’vhen?” Jaster asked firmly.

“Ruld found two adiik. And one of them, the youngest, has been badly injured. A severe wound to the leg, it looks like,” Myles snarled. “I’m going to go help them.”

Myles signed off. Jaster commed his commandos. Even if he was injured, he wasn’t going to let children be forced to fight.

Especially if a possible insane Jetti was wandering around.

Chapter Text

"The stranger outside is a Mandalorian," Obi-Wan stated firmly to the six other children sitting in front of him.

The closest thing the Young had for leaders sat in filth and damp rot. They stared at him with different looks of confusion and worry. None of the Young were happy that another one of the little ones got hurt, and they liked the idea of more traps even less. But the idea that they may suddenly need to evacuate the sewers was causing an argument.

Nield told the little ones that there was an impromptu meeting. The last thing the little ones needed was the thought that their leaders were fighting.

"Seriously? I mean, seriously?" Mawat scoffed. "The kriffing Mandalorian Empire? Of all places, why would they come here?"

Obi-Wan purposefully ignored the disgusted tone Mawat's words had carried. "The Mandalorians are hunters. There is prey that they want to hunt down here. Most likely the civil war attracted them." Obi-Wan replied.

"No, that can't be true. This is an urban planet that is polluted and broken from decades of war. It is basically worthless. And the adults are starving just like us. You're lying." Mawat sneered at Obi-Wan, copper eyes glaring holes at him.

Obi-Wan dug his nails into the meat of his palm, keeping himself from frowning at the fourteen-year-old. "I have no reason to lie. It's a matter of perspective. You see a war-torn planet, they see an opportunity for battle. They consider fighting fun. They enjoy it. And even if this stranger isn't a Mandalorian, at the very least they have a creature that strongly resembles the one from the stories. Which means the Mandalorians could be nearby."

'Don't get upset with Mawat. He just can't see the danger right now,' Obi-Wan told himself. 'Mawat's simply overwhelmed. He's stressed out, and therefore he is lashing out. It's just like what Bruck did back at the Temple. It's just like how Bruck would treat you.'

Except unlike Bruck, Mawat actually had a good reason to act this way. Rani was severely hurt, and there were other children with injuries, too, some just as severe. Mawat was the only one with anything slightly resembling medical training other than Obi-Wan. But neither of them could help the injured children right now because Nield had called this meeting. And of course, there was the war they were fighting, the lack of food or proper sleep, or actual safety to top it all off.

"Mawat," Nield said.

Mawat sighed and leaned back, frowning. "All right, all right. I didn't mean... It doesn't make sense to me, is what I was trying to say."

Nield's face was blank as he stared at Obi-Wan. He stood in the middle of the circle, his brown hair hanging in limp strands. Obi-Wan sighed. Nield had to stay neutral. If Mawat thought he was taking sides, then this would devolve into a fight. And fighting each other meant giving the adults a free advantage. The adults had so many advantages over them already.

"What makes you so certain that this creature and this strange armored person are Mandalorians?" Cerasi asked gently, looking at him with soft pale green eyes. "Why can't they simply be bounty hunters? Or maybe drifters hunting for possible loot?"

Obi-Wan bit his lip, Cerasi was trying to help, he knew that. Being one of the Young's unofficial leaders, she always tried to help sort out arguments and fights. And she too had to be neutral.

"Because the creature matches the description. Only the Mandalorians have this specific creature. No one else in the galaxy has tried to tame or own this creature. And in this galaxy, some people own Rancors. Rancors!" Obi-Wan said, his foot beginning to twitch. The stress was building up inside of him.

'I'm going to start pacing here in a moment.' Obi-Wan realized.

"So the fact they have full body armor, including that helmet and the creature, means that they are most likely a Mandalorian. Almost like how a Force-user most likely has a laser sword," Deila tapped her fingers on her leg, frowning slightly. "Bloody wonderful. That is going to be fun."

"Lightsaber." Obi-Wan corrected it automatically, raising an eyebrow at her.

Joli snorted and frowned at the ground. "What's the difference?"

Obi-Wan looked at Joli and was struck by his appearance. Joli's torn pants sagged around his scraped knees, and he could almost see the knobs of Joli's spine. The ten-year-old had gotten thinner, Obi-Wan realized. They all had.

"There is a bond between a lightsaber and a Force-user. A lightsaber has a kyber crystal in it also. A laser sword is just a laser sword." Obi-Wan explained.

He was surprised at how the words came out. How nasty his tone was.

'You are getting annoyed,' He berated himself. 'And nervous. Stop it. You are a... You must act like a Jedi. You are one with the Force.'

"So," Cerasi tilted her head at him, revealing a fading bruise on her cheek. "Let's just say that they were Mandalorian. Why would that be a problem for us?"

"They work with the Sith," Obi-Wan answered.

Deila frowned at him. "And?"

"And? And what? They work for the Hutts, they fight against the Republic, and they work for the kriffing Sith. What do you think they'll do with us if they find us?" Obi-Wan asked. "They will enslave us, or brainwash us, or hand us over to the Sith!"

He scoffed. "Why isn't anyone else freaking out over this?"

"We can't freak out, we have a war to fight." Mawat said bluntly. 

Nield stared at Obi-Wan, mouth in a firm line. "I've heard stories claiming all those facts," He said slowly. "But I've also heard stories about them attacking the Sith. I've heard stories about them freeing slaves, and it is a well-known fact that they will not attack children. Of any species or alien race. That, to me, is noteworthy."

"At worst, they are apathetic to ordinary civilians." Mawat sniffed.

"You say that like it is a good thing," Obi-Wan said.

"It is a good thing. It is different from the other empires. You have the Sith that want to subject everyone not worthy into slavery. You have the Republic that tries to control everyone. The third one is completely neutral. If I have to choose which one out of those three I want to be neighbors with, I will choose the neutral one, thank you." Joli said stiffly.

Obi-Wan frowned at him. "The Republic is a democracy, not an empire. Every planet has a voice."

"Ours didn't," Nield pointed out, his dark blue eyes narrowing. "The only reason you and the other Jedi came here was, well..." He shrugged, looking away from Obi-Wan's eyes.

Obi-Wan stiffened.

Joli flinched and crossed his arms, not saying anything. He frowned at the ground, biting his lip.

Deila threw a stone at Nield's direction, a sneer growing on her face. "Shut the kriff up before I kick you, Nield."

Nield frowned at her but then noticed Cerasi's glare.

"Nield, really?" Cerasi asked.

"What? I didn't mean..." Nield started.

Mawat turned to Nield with a growl. "Don't. Don't bring that up just to make a bloody point. Or should I use your past as ammunition as well?"

Nield sighed, running a dirty hand over his face. He didn't respond for a while. "I'm sorry," He grunted. "But Obi-Wan chose us."

Obi-Wan shuddered. He could still feel Master Qui-Gon angry glare on his back as he walked away from the starship.

"It's fine. Honestly," Obi-Wan whispered. "Move along."

Cerasi cleared her throat pointedly, brushing her copper hair to the side. "We're not here to discuss government, we are here to talk about the possible danger. Here are the facts we know."

"They are a nomadic empire that has lasted for centuries. They can trade from almost all corners of space, be it Sith, Republic, or Outer Rim. And most importantly, you have to do something to anger them to get attacked. It looks to me that we would be mostly ignored. Therefore I propose that we lay low and avoid them." Cerasi stated clearly.

"Where did you get all that information?" Obi-Wan asked.

"Traders, smugglers, and other bounty hunters will often spread tales about them. There was also the holo-net before Nield, and I created The Young." Cerasi shrugged.

"You know, like how most people get information." Mawat sneered.

"I'm not most people! I am," Obi-Wan paused, wincing. "...I was a Jedi."

A painful silence spread over the group. Joli grimaced sympathetically at Obi-Wan. Nield looked away, sighing.

Cerasi glared at Mawat arms crossed. Deila raised an unimpressed eyebrow at him.

Mawat sighed and wrung his hands over his stringy pale blond hair. "Fine. Sorry. I didn't mean to do the same thing as Nield. It's just..." He broke off and leaned back, crossing his own arms tightly.

Deila sighed and gave him a small nod. "I know. But we aren't getting anywhere with talk like that."

Obi-Wan shook his head and started to pace around the group. "The Jedi have fought against the Mandalorians for centuries. They told me and the other younglings about how the Mandalorians treat other people. What they do to their prisoners. These are not good people."

The group shifted around as they watched him. Deila's eyebrow twitched.

"Here's a question," Deila huffed, holding her chin in her filthy hands. "Have you seen these Mandalorians doing any of this? Or is all of this information from these stories?"

Obi-Wan spun on his heel with a retort on his lips. Until he saw Deila's expression. Fierce dark grey eyes stared at him from a stern face marred with scratches and burns. She was giving him a hard scrutinizing grimace. Deila only made that face when she thought someone was unreasonable.

Obi-Wan took a breath and pressed his lips together in frustration. "No. I haven't seen them do this, but."

Deila smacked her hand down onto the sewer's floor and shook her head. "Then if you haven't seen them do this, then all those 'stories' are hearsay. I'm with Cerasi on this one, I think we should just lay low and wait for them to go."

"But!" Obi-Wan spoke.

"You," Deila interrupted. "Are acting like Joli did when he first came here. You're saying some of the same kriffing things that he did about me, Nield, and Mawat!"

Obi-Wan stared at her, his mouth open in shock. Anger swelled up in his chest, hot and painful. He gritted his teeth. There was a ringing in his ears. Obi-Wan's hands twitched. Then he turned away and walked over to the sewer tunnel entrance, not trusting himself to speak.

"Hey!" Joli snapped angrily. "I said sorry and that I was wrong! Don't use me as an example!"

"Deila!" Nield snapped. "That's not fair!"

"I'm not saying that's what Joli thinks now. Joli wouldn't be here if he still thought like that! He's here because he's kriffing sick of it just like the rest of us!" Deila gritted her teeth.

"Enough! Both of you," Cerasi snarled. "We agreed when we started this war that everyone in this room is the same. That we all deserve to call this planet our own, even if it is a polluted chunk of burnt rock. Deila, that was not necessary."

"It's the truth! He was. And I told every one of you, as your friend, I am going to tell you when you are stupid." Deila defended, glaring back at Cersai.

"...Yes, what is it?" Mawat interrupted, gesturing at the sewer tunnel door. Obi-Wan glanced and saw a young child standing there, uneasily.

"Are we going to eat soon?" The child asked in a wheedling tone.

Obi-Wan raised his head up in a panic. "Kriff! Food! Oh, Rani and the others must have been waiting for ages!"

He scrambled out into the tunnel, Mawat hot on his heels.

<><><>

Jaster stood in front of the small, barely functional spaceport.

Jaster's red beskar'gam gleamed in the fading light as he waited. His commandos' hunt was almost complete, soon they would give him their report. Bukur sat at his side, tail twitching side to side lazily. Jaster smiled as he watched his adiiks perform their duties.

Arla's squad patrolled the area, keeping an eye on the small skirmishes that were happening throughout the city. Most of Jango's unit was guarding the spaceport while the other Mando'ade were finishing up. When you were always on the move, you learned how to be quick.

They had grown up, he realized with a pang.

The farmer's ad that Jaster saved was now a powerful man, ready to take on the burden of leadership. The tortured girl he had recused from Kyr'stad was now one of the strongest in the empire. The event on Korda 6 showed that, clearly, to Jaster, the wounds he now suffered were constant reminders.

Jango had smelled the trap that Jaster had missed, had sent one of his unit to follow Jaster, and that hut'tuun aruetti, just in case. And when everything fell apart, Arla had stepped up and kept things together. He was proud of them, so kriffing proud.

Jaster bared his teeth in a grimace. The Mando'ade they had lost had been close to him. He had known them intimately, haran, they had been his commandos. But he couldn't bear to think of their names. It was too painful, the ache was too deep.

Bukur whined, pawing at his leg. The reproach in those golden eyes made Jaster's lips twitch. He petted Bukur, taking in a slow breath.

"Yeah, yeah, I know. Look I'm fine. See? It's okay. I'm here. I'm still here." Jaster murmured to his Striil.

Bukur was not appeased that easily. It nipped his gloved hand gently before rubbing its head on his leg.

'They were my people, my vod,' Jaster sighed. 'One day. One day I'll be able to say their names.'

Even with that thought in his head, it punched him in the gut to look at the four commandos walking toward him. The three missing members made the lump on his head ache. It still kriffing hurt to see the empty place in Jango's unit.

Jaster moved towards them and scratched Bukur's floppy ear.

" 'Alor." All four greeted, bowing.

Jaster nodded at each of them in turn. "What did you find?"

"There were three Jetti here, after all. A Cabur' jetti, a Jetti adiik, and a wounded Jetti. But no one is certain if they are still here. Some say they are, some claim only the adiik is here, and some claim that they left." Qar's growling voice informed him.

Jaster pretended not to notice the tiny chunk of orange paint on Qar's beskar'gam. It hadn't yet been painted over with grey paint.

The Kaleesh tilted his grey buy'ce at Jaster. "My Striil has taken a particular interest in the sewer grates. Almost tried to get inside."

"So did Myles's Striil," Jaster said. "There's something down there then."

"Myles and Ruld found a maintenance droid tunnel. Their Striils will be able to fit inside and figure out what is down there." Yonsel reported.

"If something dangerous is there, they'll be able to guide it over here," She pointed a finger at several pipe entrances. "They have three possible exit points. We will be able to station Mando'ade at each point and cut them off."

"We might be able to avoid a confrontation after all." Jaster hummed.

"Any idea of how they got hurt?" Jaster's jaw tightened as a thought occurred to him. "Dar'jetti?"

"No, thank the Ka'ra. Just these people being di'kuts." Khi Dro tells him, their pale red Nautolan head-tails twitching with displeasure.

The light shone on the freshly painted grey beskar'gam that Khi Dro was wearing. Something in Jaster's chest tightened.

Bukur nudged him. Jaster rubbed Bukur's back.

"They are already killing each other over superficial differences. What's more osik than that?" Umuth asked.

Khi Dro snorted. "They attacked all three Jetti. They're lucky that the Jetti didn't do something rash. Or lash out."

Yonsel and Umuth both groaned. Qar shifted on his feet, uncomfortable.

"But they still could," Jaster nodded. "Umuth?"

Umuth crossed his arms together, pausing for a moment. "...There are traps nearby, towards that disgusting body of water I hesitate to call a 'lake.' At first, I thought the locals made them, but then I saw how small they were. Adiik made those traps, no doubt. And they were pointing toward the nearest sewer grate. They were just out of the way, but close enough to be suspicious."

Umuth's Striil whined, rubbing its snout on his leg. Jaster eyed Umuth, noting how his hands were twitching. Then he glanced at Yonsel.

The Dathomirian tapped her red buy'ce. "His Iktotchi telepathic abilities felt something strange from one of the traps, 'Alor. One of those lingering 'emotions' from a Force-user."

Umuth shrugged. "There was a heavy cloak of fear, anger, and hate on the trap. One of the Jetti made them, I know that much, but they were terrified of something. Couple that with the fact that I've yet to see an adiik around, and..."

Umuth clenched his fists tightly, taking a breath. Then Umuth scratched his Striil's chin, murmuring softly to it.

Jaster frowned. "That doesn't make sense. Why would the Jetti hide with the children of the people that attacked them?"

Khi Dro looked at him, voice stiff. "Does that mean they've turned into a Dar'jetti, 'Alor? Or are they about to turn?"

Yonsel clenched her fist. "That would explain this 'young army' that Jango keeps hearing about. Haar'chak, just what we need."

Khi Dro's head-tails writhed at the next thought. "Ruld mentioned hurt adiik... Haran." They snarled.

Qar stiffened at Khi Dro's words. "...Demagolka," He hissed. "If they are using them as Verd'adiik, if they intend to enslave those adiik..."

"If there's a Dar'jetti here, you get to take care of them. You and Khi Dro both," Jaster promised fiercely. "There will be others for us to hunt down. However, if they are a Jetti and the Jetti starts to lash out, we will need to stabilize them. For the adiik's sake."

Yonsel reached into her belt pouch and withdrew a set of Force-suppressing binders. "Binders for the Cabur'jetti, possibly for the wounded one if they are still here."

"What about the Jetti adiik?" Khi Dro asked.

Jaster sighed. "We'll see. Worst case, we will sedate them. Hopefully, it won't come to that."

Umuth eyed the binders with distaste. "The Jetti adiik isn't going to like their cabur shackled. They will likely lash out too."

"Better angry and laandur than angry and kyramla," Qar sniffed. "The adiik will be fine once they realize their cabur isn't in danger."

Jango's comm beeped. Jaster answered it, turning his head in Jango's direction.

"Buir. Arla says that the adults are gathering nearby. Just so you know." Jango's tone was light, yet there was a hint of tension buried underneath.

Jaster sighed as his injuries began to throb once more. "Noted ad'ika. We'll keep an eye on it."

<><><>

They sat in one of the drier spaces, the smell of burnt meat and boiled plants mixed with the sewer's rancid stench. The pitiful fire smoked as Obi-Wan stirred the disgusting attempt at stew they could make.

Rani whimpered as Mawat gently tried to coax her to eat some. Obi-Wan knew she probably couldn't manage it, not with that severe trauma. But Rani had already not been eating well.

Obi-Wan carefully ladled a spoonful of stew from the cooking pot and handed it over to Ronnei. The seven-year-old ate it ravenously. Obi-Wan smiled tightly at the tiny girl. She was eating it like how he would eat Quinlan's delicious creations. Then the smile fell from his face at the stinging memory.

There was a thick sense of tension in the room. Cerasi and Joli were doing their best to cheer the younger ones up, saying whatever they could to make them smile. It was getting harder and harder to make them smile.

'They can tell that we fought. The little ones know that we are worried.' Obi-Wan sighed.

Nield and Deila stood nearby, munching slowly on far smaller portions of the stew. Deila watched Mawat and Rani with a worried scowl. Rani refused to eat, lip quivering. Mawat's face was pinched with fear. He set the stew down and held Rani's small hand tightly.

Joli stared unhappily at Rani's wounded leg, nose curling at the sharp scent of bacta. There wasn't enough for the injury. They needed more if Rani was going to live.Obi-Wan felt sick at the thought that they might lose her. He didn't give up on the Order he was raised to serve just so that he could watch children die.

Deila's eyebrow twitched when Obi-Wan handed the last bit of stew to a dirty four-year-old. "Obi-Wan..."

"I don't need as much food as the rest of you," Obi-Wan said coolly. "I have the Force."

Deila sighed heavily, shoving her bowl at him. "Eat. Just kriffing eat the rest of mine."

Obi-Wan shook his head. Nield jerked his head at the little ones. "Set an example for them, at least."

Obi-Wan relented at that. He moved away from the fire and sat down near Deila and Nield. The boiled plants and burnt rat meat mixture tasted foul. Obi-Wan grimaced and tried to choke it down. Never had he thought he would miss those bland field rations that Master Qui-Gon gave him. And he only had one of those field rations each day, too.

Nield gave Deila a pointed look.

Deila rolled her eyes but said softly. "I didn't mean to imply that you were like the adults, Obi-Wan. You aren't, you're one of the most open-minded people that I know."

Obi-Wan looked at her, meeting her grey eyes. "Then why did you...?"

"Because what you were saying was similar," Deila shrugged her shoulders. "But perhaps you do have a good reason."

Obi-Wan blinked at her. Nield cleared his throat. "Mawat made the excellent point that the reason we heard different stories is that we, technically, are different. They might leave us alone, but they could try all that nasty stuff on you. Because..." He sighed.

Obi-Wan nodded stiffly. "So, what's the plan?"

"We came up with a compromise," Nield said, hands folded on his knees. "If we encounter them, we treat them like those neutral middle-aged adults. They might chase us off, they might leave us alone, who knows. But if you encounter them, Obi-Wan, you hide or move away. That way, we can keep low and avoid whatever is going on between you guys."

Obi-Wan pressed his lips together and nodded again. "...Alright. But protect the little ones. Don't let them get close."

"Of course," Nield agreed readily. "At the same time, we will also try and get bacta for Rani's leg. There must be some somewhere."

Cerasi raised her head, frowning at the ceiling. "Do you hear that?"

The group tensed, listening. Obi-Wan stood up quickly, hand going straight to his durasteel blade. His heart froze in his chest. Barely breathing, they listened to the faint sound of scratching. Then after a few minutes, it faded out.

"...Just the maintenance droid," Mawat said shakily. "Nothing to worry about."

Obi-Wan swallowed, taking in a breath. He couldn't shake the sudden sense of anticipation settling in his stomach, even as he sat back down. Was the Force warning him, or was it reassuring him?

The Force had been clouded for some time now. Stress, lack of food, almost no sleep, and pain contributed to the smog in his brain. For Rani's sake, he hoped that this feeling was one telling him that everything was going to be alright.

Chapter Text

Arla was pacing.

Jango glanced at his vod as she walked around the space station's grounds, her white beskar'gam smudged with ash and dirt. She was nervous, but then so was Jango, they all were on edge now. When campaigns start to head downhill like this, there were usually nasty surprises at the end of it.

But Jango was grateful for the tension. That tension was going to keep them focused, keep them grounded. And if it got to be too much, they had their own methods, and their Striils to deal with it. Arla's approach was to move around a lot. Moving was special for her, especially after what she went through, thanks to Kyr'stad.

Her Striil followed her as she walked, tongue lolling out of its mouth. Every now and then she bent down to pet it gently, or scratch its ear.

Jango sighed, brushing some dirt off of his own blue painted beskar'gam. Until they could confirm things, the information on the current situation was going to be uncertain. There could just be frightened Jetti, or there could be a Dar'jetti. Jango wasn't sure what he wanted it to be.

If it was Jetti, then it was a simple matter of avoiding unwanted trouble. If it was a Dar'jetti, he could help Khi Dro, and Qar get vengeance. He could get revenge. Jango sneered. They had nearly lost his buir on Korda 6.

An ordinary campaign that quickly turned into a trap. An assassination attempt that almost succeeded. Jango didn't want to know what would have happened if he hadn't sent... His chest tightened at the thought. The loss was still painful and raw. Jango's Striil, Kebiin, nipped gently at his boot, admonishing him.

Jango snorted darkly at the Striil. "It was too close. And you know it."

He growled. "If I had figured out what was going quicker, if Silas hadn't grabbed me, if I had sent someone else..."

Kebiin stared at him with a look, its golden eyes narrowing, and Jango stopped.

He rolled his eyes at the Striil. "Oh, stop, you don't need to sit on me. I'm fine."

Kebiin, unconvinced, shuffled its body so that it sat on top of Jango's boot. Jango sighed but allowed it.

He had a shuk'la misrshe, and there was a haastal on his soul. But his Striil was there to help him. Kebiin was there to help him piece the broken pieces back together, help him stay whole. His fellow Mando'ade were there as well, he was not alone.

Not anymore.

"K'atini." Jango whispered softly to himself. "You are kadala, but you will have Mirjahaal."

He glanced over at the other Mando'ade. His buir's commandos stationed verd'e from Jango's units and Arla's squad at each of the three entrances. Anything that came out of there would have to deal with them. If the Jetti were to appear, Jango and Arla would deal with them as best they could. Yonsel was nearby with the binders and several young Striil if things went sour. If it was a Dar'jetti...

Jango suddenly noticed how Kebiin was staring at the nearby adults. Its tail went still, and the ears flattened, teeth bared in a silent snarl. A quick glance at Arla's Striil confirmed that it, too, was having the same reaction. Arla glanced at him, white buy'ce tilting in a silent question.

Jango looked towards the rest of his unit, already suspecting the cause of the Striil's unrest. He spotted the source a moment later, the adults had gathered into three groups near one of the sewer entrances. They gave the Mando'ade uneasy looks, but they stood there all the same. The three groups all carried weapons; clubs, blasters, swords, and spears. They brandished it at each other with whispered insults and muffled curses.

Jango had no doubt that the only reason they weren't fighting each other was the presence of the Mando'ade. One of the many benefits of having a terrifying reputation in the galaxy.

He had told Voyd and Silas to keep an eye on those adults. Their leaders were acting strange like they were trying to hide something. And they couldn't get their story straight, it kept changing. The Striil could sense things that others couldn't, and all the Striil had been snapping at the heels of the adults ever since they landed.

Jango saw Voyd and Silas, standing off to the side, talking to one of the adults' leaders. The man looked pale and slightly frightened, as he should. Silas's body language clearly told Jango that he was annoyed. Voyd wasn't happy either. The Togorian's massive arms were crossed over their chest, and their tail was swishing side to side. The adult said something, gesturing at the sewer angrily.

Curious, Jango steadily approached, hand casually on his side. Kebiin followed him eagerly, muscles tensing as they got closer. If Jango so wished, he could have his blasters in his hands in seconds. Electromagnetic sensors were a handy tool to have in a beskar'gam.

"But there can't be anyone in the sewers! They've been abandoned by Melida for decades! And the Jedi left in their starship months ago." One of the older adults protested, leaning back from Voyd's glare.

Voyd leaned in ever closer, growling deep in their throat.

"There are two adiik in there, and one of them is severely injured," Voyd snapped at the adult, pointing a sharp claw at them. "You will just have to wait until we are done before you can go in there, you besom utreevok piece of osik."

They hissed the last part, sunlight glinting off of their golden painted specially fitted beskar'gam. Silas squeezed himself between the two, probably to prevent Voyd from pouncing onto the or'dinii.

Voyd's temper usually ran hotter than Dar'jetti harans, and thanks to recent events, that temper had cranked right up to eleven at every opportunity. They often didn't have to worry about Voyd possibly killing anyone, but these were not regular times. And Voyd had lost their Striil in that kriffing Korda 6 campaign, so it was up to Jango, the unit's ori'ramikad, to help Voyd keep it together.

Still, Jango watched with no small part of satisfaction as the group of adults warily backed away from the sewer grate. Kebiin growled.

Another adult hastily stepped forward, this one with pale green eyes. "Injured children, you say? In the sewer?"

The green-eyed adult seemed to have some sort of realization. "Oh... Of course, that's how they did it. Cerasi must have shown them... Hmph, amusing little girl."

Kebiin snarled at the adults, tail lashing back and forth. Yet it remained at Jango's side, waiting for a signal. Jango sighed and reluctantly hand relayed the command to stay put.

He had a strong growing desire to allow Kebiin to pounce, despite what Jaster said about not attacking civilians. Kebiin listened, but it whined at Jango, not happy with waiting.

Jango gritted his teeth, grinding them together. He wasn't happy either. But he was a verd, he was a Mando'ade. Jaster trusted him. He wasn't going to do anything until provoked.

The older adult swiveled to face Wehutti. "You, you aren't suggesting that the Young are in there? That they have been in there this entire time?"

Wehutti shrugged carelessly. "Apparently they have been. Once we are allowed in, they won't be."

One of the neutral adults shuffled their feet, unsure. "Your daughter is with the Young, Wehutti."

Wehutti scowled. "I'm certain Cerasi will be happy to avenge her brother's death once I help snap her out of this foolishness. There's no way that she'll continue to side with that insignificant gathering of 'children' once she learns of his fate. And she'll help us get rid of them, or die herself..."

The three Mando'ade stiffened. Jango felt the cold clutches of horror grab at his chest.

Wehutti went silent once he saw the way the Mando'ade were glaring daggers at him. From the jutting of their buy'ce, Jango knew that Voyd was baring their long and sharp fangs at Wehutti.

Silas spoke, his voice purposefully flat. "You will leave. Now."

At Wehutti's protest, Voyd snarled. "Ne shab'rud' ni... you hut'tuun. You just implied that you would kill your ad."

Jango was gritting his teeth so hard he was almost afraid one of them would break.

'No... No, they can't actually be saying that they would shoot at adiiks. At their adiiks...' Jango's stomach lurched at the revolting thought of these adults firing at their own children.

Not even those slimy hut'tuun Kyr'stad would do that. Jango looked at the man incredulously. Was he really that stupid? To say something like that, to a Mando'ade?

Kriff, most of the galaxy knew better than to say that you hurt adiik in front of a Mando'ade. That wasn't something that even a Hutt would do. The Hutts had lived long enough to know it wasn't good business to even imply that. They knew what would happen, what the Mando'ade would do if they thought you were hurting adiiks.

Then in a horrid stroke of luck, an adiik quickly darted from the rocks, running to the sewers' entrance as fast as possible. Kebiin's golden eyes followed the adiik and it shifted on its feet, straining not to give chase. Jango looked at the Mando'ade, waiting at the entrance, watching. The adiik wouldn't be able to see them, and they could get the adiik out of here before any Jetti showed up.

He gladly gave them a dadita hand sequence, letting them know exactly what to do. Then Jango gave Kebiin a hand signal. Kebiin ran six legs pumping after the adiik. It would watch over the adiik, and if somehow the adiik slipped from the Mando'ade, it would keep an eye on them.

Unfortunately, Wehutti spotted the adiik too. And to Jango's shock, Wehutti raised a blaster, aiming at a kriffing adiik, finger on the trigger, and...

Wehutti was knocked back as Silas's Striil bit down on his arm, dragging the man to the ground. Wehutti shrieked in surprise and pain. Silas reached out at Wehutti, capturing the man in a firm tight grip and pulling him to the side. The Striil did not let go of Wehutti's arm until he dropped the blaster.

Then the adults scrambled back as Voyd swelled up in anger, tail puffing out and claws extending. "Rangir you osi'yaim demagolka!"

Voyd struck out a paw, swatting at the other adults. The adults, frightened by the roar, scattered. Arla and her verd'e turned at the noise, instantly alerted. Jango luckily had the mind to block Voyd because he was currently the only thing preventing the very angry Togorian from chasing the adults down and mauling them.

And oh how he wanted Voyd to maul them all to pieces. But no, he couldn't, their priority was the hurt adiik, and the adults were already fleeing. Later, he could hunt them down if he really wanted to.

"Udesii, Voyd. We'll take care of them later, I promise, but right now, we need to help the adiik." Jango muttered.

Voyd glared at Jango, bright orange eyes flaring. Voyd was stronger than Janog was, and if they really wanted to, Voyd could just toss Jango aside. But Voyd only gave a brief struggle and then hissed sharply at the retreating adults, relenting.

Silas held onto Wehutti, snarling in a cold icy voice. "Ni'durra! You and your ge'hutuun group aren't going anywhere near those sewers! Kriffing osik, they have been attacking those adiik this whole time, haven't they?"

Jango's gut curled with disgust and anger. He stomped down on those emotions, he was going to deal with them later. Forcing away the mental image of Jaster lying in the dirt, wounded, Bukur on top of him and the other two commandos dying next to him...

Later, he would deal with this later, right kriffing now he had to deal with this horrid issue. He had to alert Arla and Jaster to this nasty surprise. Jango quickly pinged his internal comm, taking a quick moment to get his voice under control.

"Ad'ika? The kriff is going on with Voyd and Silas over there?" Jaster asked firmly.

"These dinii adults are actively trying to hurt the adiik, one of them tried to shoot at one. My Striil is following the adiik, and I told my verd'e to try and get them to safety. I'll keep you updated."

Now Jango really did hope that the Jetti down there was a Dar'jetti. He could use the fight.

<><><>

There was a muffled shriek of surprise in the sewers and a clanging of a sewer entrance door.

Obi-Wan jumped up onto his feet, snapping out of the light doze in an instant. His heart pounded in his ears as he glanced at the others. The little ones were trying their best to sleep before the attempt for bacta was made. Nield was planning the attack with Mawat in the corner, Deila was dozing, Cersai was guarding one of the entrances, and Joli...

Joli was nowhere to be seen. And the Force hadn't warned him.

Voices sounded from the sewer entrance, there were people outside of the door. Nield and Mawat glanced sharply upwards as they heard the strange accented voices.

"What are those voices?" Nield asked warily.

"Mandalorians." Obi-Wan hissed, his stomach dropping. Why hadn't the Force alerted him?

There were Mandalorians outside of the sewers. Joli was nowhere to be seen, and with a jolt, Obi-Wan realized that Ronnei was missing.

Nield stared at him and then at the sewer entrance, confused. "What? Why would they be over there?"

Obi-Wan swallowed, panic rising. 'Oh no, oh no, oh no...'

"Cerasi, where's Joli and Ronnei?" Obi-Wan asked shakily as he moved protectively to where Rani was, hand drifting to his durasteel blade.

His heart clenched. Rani had just fallen into a restless sleep, and he didn't want to move her. He didn't want to reopen that nasty wound or damage the leg even further.

Deila blinked wearily, rising up from the damp floor at the commotion. "What the kriff is going on?"

"Jolie went for a tiny bit of scouting to see if he could locate the Mandalorian you came across, and Ronnei heard more of that scratching noise. I think she wanted to see what it was," Cerasi replied, watching him with concern. "Why, what's wrong, Obi-Wan?"

They heard the click of claws on the sewer floor before Obi-Wan could reply.

Obi-Wan bit his lip and reached out, trying to find Joli's presence. Instead, he sensed the creature's presence. He gritted his teeth, the Force was simply telling him where the beast was as if he were searching for something benign, non-threatening. Precisely the opposite of what the Mandalorians were. It didn't make any sense to him, not at all.

A voice drifted in from the sewer tunnel. "Haar'chak, they've been living in this disgusting haran this whole time... Bihes is going to have an utter fit when they hear about this. Ka'ra, does it stink in here. Look at this Myles, there must have been over a hundred adiik in here... living together..."

"They were here recently too, look, that cooking fire was put out recently. Hey ad'ika, where did you say your friends were?" Another asked lightly.

Obi-Wan stiffened. 'No... no.'

Ronnei answered, sounding nervous. "We're sleeping over there. Rani's hurt, and we need to keep an eye on her. The Elders hurt her with their traps."

'They have Ronnei.' Obi-Wan thought.

Obi-Wan tensed, tightly gripping the handle of his blade. "Deila, get your bombs."

Deila moved, scrambling over to where her painstakingly hand-crafted bombs lay. They only used the bombs for emergencies. Cerasi understood at once, she dropped into soldier mode, spear extended. Nield and Mawat wordlessly grabbed for weapons; Nield his blaster and Mawat, his sharpshooter rifle.

The sharpshooter rifle was one of the best weapons they had and Mawat was the only one that could use it decently.

"Obi-Wan, go! We've got this." Cerasi snapped, gesturing at the entrance.

Obi-Wan hesitated, long enough to catch a glimpse of the creature coming into the room, and then bolted, heart, pounding in his ears as he ran.

He scrambled out of the sewer, stumbling onto the dirt and froze in shock. Several heavily armored figures were there, their backs turned towards him. They were standing in a circle around something, almost like they were protecting it. Obi-Wan inhaled. Those were Mandalorians, he was sure of it. There were more creatures too, and the creature's heads swiveled to look at him.

Joli.

That was Joli there standing in the middle of the circle. A Mandalorian had knelt down to his level, their hand on his shoulder. Joli was gesturing at the sewer with frantic, nervous energy. "No, there is no Jedi there, the two Jedi left, it's just Nield and me, and the others. Yes, Rani's hurt, but we are going to steal bacta from the Elders and make her all better!"

Joli noticed him, honey-colored eyes widening. "Obi-Wan!"

Obi-Wan's heart stopped when the Mandalorians' heads turned towards him. He ran as fast as he could, unsure where he was going, but he had to get away from them.
Before something horrible and awful happened. Obi-Wan wasn't exactly sure what that horrid thing would be, but he could feel it chasing him down, ready to consume him alive.

One of the creatures, a smaller younger one, darted in front of his path. Its appearance was so sudden and quick that it startled Obi-Wan, startled him enough that he stumbled to a halt. He raised his durasteel blade and braced himself for an attack, gritting his teeth. Those claws looked sharp.

It didn't attack him, didn't even snarl, or lift a claw. It only blocked his path, golden eyes watching him, floppy ears raised up. The tail lifted, swishing, its head tilted to the side, and it gave a small bark. The tongue lolled out of its mouth, golden eyes bright and twinkling.

Obi-Wan blinked, stunned.

The creature impossibly looked very much like a tooka wanting to be petted. And the bark that had come from its mouth wasn't threatening or angry; in fact, it sounded downright friendly.

Obi-Wan stayed where he was, confused, and unsure. That wasn't what he had been expecting. The Force still wasn't giving him any warnings. It was frustratingly silent, clouded, and murky.

He flinched at the soft approach of footsteps, and he turned raising the blade at the source. A Mandalorian stood a few feet away, in white painted armor, hands outstretched in a calming gesture. Another Mandalorian dressed in red armor watched from behind, poised to do... something.

Obi-Wan watched them, feeling cornered like prey. He felt small, weak, and alone. The younger creature came closer to him.

"It's alright, ad'ika. Udesii we aren't here to hurt you, I promise. We simply want to help," The red Mandalorian said gently, soothingly. "We aren't going to attack you, and we won't let those demagolka hurt you either."

There was a voice modulator, so Obi-Wan couldn't tell much from the voice, only the tone and the fact that it carried an accent. He stared at them uncomprehending. This couldn't be happening, this wasn't how they were supposed to act.

Unless this was a trick unless they simply wanted to get his guard down, unless...

"You put Rani down right kriffing now!" Mawat's angry voice burst out from the sewer entrance.

Obi-Wan turned, fearing the worst. The Mandalorian in black armor was running, carrying Rani in their arms with unexpected tenderness. Cerasi stood helplessly near the sewer entrance, hands wringing. Obi-Wan could hear Deila's voice, arguing and protesting. Nield's voice was absent, and that only frightened Obi-Wan even further.

"What did these skanah do to you, adiik?" The white Mandalorian clenched their fists tightly for a moment, then let them go.

Obi-Wan frowned, probing at the white Mandalorian, trying to use the Force to get a read on them. There was a brief flash of anger that quickly cooled into a firm determination.

'A determination to do what, precisely?' Obi-Wan thought frantically.

Mawat paced angrily after them for a few steps, halting when he saw the others. He scowled at Obi-Wan, pointing furiously at the Mandalorians. "You didn't say anything about those creatures being able to knock weapons out of our hands! Or about these Mandalorains being so fast! They took the rifle out of my hands before I could shoot!"

Obi-Wan's stomach dropped down into his shoes, twisting into knots. "I didn't know they could." He said in a small voice. Too low of a voice for Mawat to hear.
"Deila couldn't even do anything with her bomb, not with the little ones so close!" Mawat threw up his hands in helpless angry frustration. "And Nield just froze! He just froze up when they took our weapons!"

Mawat then sneered at Obi-Wan, copper eyes flaring. "What the kriff are you still doing here, anyway? I thought the plan was for you to run..."

"I..." Obi-Wan tried to reply, his throat closing up unexpectedly. He was afraid.

Mawat then noticed the white Mandalorian and the younger creature. At first he backed off, wary, but then he glanced at Obi-Wan. A deep frown settled over his face before he squared his shoulders and pointedly edged himself between the white Mandalorain and Obi-Wan, arm outstretched protectively.  

The white Mandalorain tilted their helmet at Mawat, hands displayed outwards. "Your vod is severely injured. The leg was fractured, and there's a high possibility of infection. We can heal that wound on one of our ships."

"What are you doing here?" A confused yet horribly familiar voice choked out. "I thought... The ship... This doesn't make any sense, I... Cerasi?"

Obi-Wan turned his blade, baring his teeth. "Wehutti..."

Mawat turned as well, fists raising into a fighting stance. It surprised Obi-Wan to see Wehutti, the Melida's leader being held tightly by one of the Mandalorians. It was as if they thought he was crazy and had to be restrained.

Cerasi flinched when she noticed Wehutti. But her voice was as cold and hard as durasteel. "Father. What are you doing here?"

She glanced at Wehutti and then at Obi-Wan, pale green eyes flickering between them. Anger pinched Cerasi's face, color rising in her thin cheeks. "Oh... This is one of your tricks, isn't it? You're doing the same thing you did to that other Jedi! What did you tell them that a Jedi was here for them to hunt? Well, there isn't, Obi-Wan's master took that other Jedi, and he left Obi-Wan here alone. Obi-Wan joined us, he joined the Young! He chose us, so don't you dare try to use him like that!"

She stamped her foot, arms crossing over her chest as she glared at Wehutti.

"Cerasi, you idiot, now they know Obi-Wan used to be a Jedi!" Joli yelled angrily.

Cerasi's pale green eyes widened, and she clapped her hands to her mouth, turning to look at Obi-Wan. "Oh... Oh, I didn't mean, no, no, please don't hurt Obi-Wan!"

The younger creature was getting closer, it whined at him. Obi-Wan backed away, trying to get closer to Mawat.

The white Mandalorain turned to look at Obi-Wan with disbelief. "Me'vhen? Your cabur left you here? Alone? In the middle of a kriffing civil war? Where demagolka are running around shooting at adiik?"

The white Mandalorain's voice got angrier and angrier as they spoke, hands balling into fists.

Obi-Wan flinched, the panic rising in his chest. He could barely breathe, the fear was so wild and sharp, unlike anything he had experienced before. The creature whined louder, and it got closer.

'Stop! Stop that, right now!' A voice screamed at him from his mind.

'Fear leads to anger, anger leads to hate, and hate,' Obi-Wan swallowed. 'Hate leads to the Dark Side. You are a Jedi, you are one with the Force, and you are in control, you are in control, you are in...'

'No, I'm not,' Obi-Wan told himself harshly. 'I'm not a Jedi, not anymore. And I'm not one with the Force, I can't understand anything it is saying.'

A thought chilled him to the bone. 'Does that mean I'm not in control anymore?'

His thoughts began to swirl around in his head like a whirlwind. 'No, you are not in control, and they know. They know it, and they know you don't have a Master to protect you now. They know, and they are going to hurt you, they are going to enslave you like on Bandomeer, they are going to hand you to the Sith Empire, and then Xanatos will get his revenge and..'

Crack!

Obi-Wan jumped as his durasteel blade imploded in his hands, fracturing into tiny little pieces, and cutting his hands.

Mawat shielded his eyes and Cerasi flinched back. Joli's mouth dropped open. The Mandalorains collectively tensed, watching him intently. Obi-Wan stilled, shocked. He stared at the bleeding cuts on his hands, blinking. That had never happened before.

Mawat leaned back, startled. "Kriff, what, what was that? What did you do?"

Cerasi started, hands lowering from her mouth. "What... Obi-Wan, how did you... You never did that before!"

Joli stared. "That was durasteel. You just crushed durasteel like it was nothing but paper."

The white Mandalorian moved quickly, grabbing at Mawat, dragging him away from Obi-Wan. Almost as if Obi-Wan was a live grenade about to go off at any second.

Mawat struggled vainly. "What, hey! Let go of me! Let go!"

Obi-Wan swallowed. He couldn't move, he was frozen in place. The Force... Oh, the Force felt strange. It felt wild and uncontrollable and...

It felt dark.

Fear ran through his veins, a white-hot fear that burned him. He knew what darkness felt like, he had felt it radiate from Xanatos back on Bandomeer. But this time, it was radiating from him. He had used the dark Force.

He collapsed onto his knees, shaking violently. If he hadn't already left the Order, he would have been expelled outright. Or thrown into a holding cell so that he didn't endanger the galaxy by joining the Sith empire.

All the faces that he knew so well back at the Temple flooded into his mind. Quinlan, with that awful blank look he got after touching an item without his gloves, Bant's silver eyes brimming with tears, Reeft's wrinkled face crumpling in disappointment.

Then there was his Creche-Master's horrified sobs ringing in his ears accompanied by Master Qui-Gon's last words; you will no longer be a part of the Jedi Order, you will no longer be...

The younger creature crawled over, pushed him down, and sat on him.

Obi-Wan blinked. Air seemed to rush back into his lungs as the warmth of the beast seeped into his bones. He lay there on his back, the creature on top, mind blank with confusion and shock. The younger creature was sitting on him, gently but firmly, chin resting on his chest. And it was purring.

Obi-Wan's stressed confused mind couldn't figure out why the creature would do this. Perhaps if he just held still, the creature would stop?

But it did feel good, strange as it was, it felt good. It was oddly like being held by his Creche-Master, Master Vant, that was her name. Why was only now that he could recall her warm hugs, her calming presence? 

How long had it been since he had spoken to her? Oh, the memories were making his chest ache. Tears pricked the corners of his eyes, and he couldn't keep them in, they spilled down his cheeks.

Someone, the Mandalorian in red armor, knelt beside him. "Udesii Ad'ika. It's all right, you are going to be okay. Just keep still, just like that, you are doing great. Can you hear me? You don't need to try and speak, just nod your head."

Their voice was very gentle, quiet, almost warm. Obi-Wan knew that they could see his tears. He nodded, biting his lip.

"What just happened is not your fault, okay? You lashed out there, but it's not your fault. Now we don't want you to lash out again, so I'm going to give you a mild sedative so that you can be with your vod. We don't want you to accidentally hurt them. Does that sound good?" They asked, leaning in closer.

Obi-Wan couldn't speak so he couldn't ask what they meant, and he already was so tired, and the creature was so warm, so he just nodded again. He wasn't surprised when the red armored Mandalorian withdrew a pill and helped him sat up slightly to swallow it.

It might have been a mild sedative, but it was a fast-acting one, and Obi-Wan's body was exhausted. Obi-Wan was out mere seconds after swallowing the pill.

Chapter Text

The red armored Mandalorian remained where they were, even after Obi-Wan was asleep. The creature got off of Obi-Wan slowly, but it settled at his side, tail wrapping around itself. Obi-Wan lay there, in the Mandalorian's arms, asleep and pale-looking.

"Nuhoy, cyar'ika, nuhoy. You're safe, I promise." They muttered.

Mawat's breaths were coming in short and fast; he wanted to attack the Mandalorians who had taken Rani away, who had so easily disarmed them and were quickly proving to be just as powerful as Obi-Wan said they were. The Mandalorians that had just made the most powerful person Mawat knew to go to sleep.

The red Mandalorian gave a quick dismissive gesture. The other Mandalorians took Wehutti away, roughly.

Mawat didn't know what was going to happen to him. 'Something horrible, I hope,' He thought. 'Something awful and painful.'

The red armored Mandalorian's green helmet turned toward him, studying Mawat. Mawat snarled at them, baring his teeth. "You can't stop me from saving Rani! I'm rescuing her from that kriffing ship of yours. I'll tear you apart, every last one of you that gets in my way! I swear, I'll."

"Let the adiik go, Arla," The red Mandalorian said as they slowly sat down on the ground, legs crisscrossed, not letting go of Obi-Wan. "It's all right. That was just a panic attack."

The white Mandalorian, Arla, let him go. Mawat backed away, growling.

"A kriffing panic attack?" Arla asked, eying Obi-Wan. "You sure? I mean... they broke a durasteel blade, buir."

"I know what you are concerned about, but this is different, they are just an adiik that has been under tremendous stress. Ad'ika, I know what I'm doing, I'll explain it to you later," The red Mandalorian gestured. "Go on, cyar'ika, give them some space, don't crowd them. You and Jango know what to do from here."

Arla nodded and moved away, making sure that the Young could see her open hands. Then she gestured to the other Mandalorians, having them follow her somewhere.
Mawat turned to the red Mandalorian, fists raised.

"You," The red Mandalorian said evenly and calmly. "Try to take a deep breath and calm down. We are not going to hurt you, I promise. Udesii, I know you want to protect your vod. I can see it in your eyes. But if we take you in there with you swinging your fists around like that and shouting, that won't get your vod'ika healed up any faster."

Mawat didn't lower his fists, didn't stop sneering; he didn't trust them at all.

'I will fight you with everything I've got.' He snarled to himself, trying to make the anger keep him from feeling the fear cramping in his gut.

But Cerasi asked softly. "What are you going to do to us?"

The red Mandalorian settled Obi-Wan on their lap and took off their green helmet, revealing an older man with salt and pepper hair. Scars ran deep along his square jaw, red, angry, and his hook nose was broken many times.Yet Mawat was surprised by how the man's eyes looked. They were like silver, sparkling, warm, and bright. And the man's face held a stern kindness about it.

It was not what Mawat had been expecting.

"Nothing that you don't want us to do," The old man pointed at his chest. "I'm Jaster. He/him/his. I'm the Mand'alor of the Mandalorian Empire. To simplify it in Basic, I'm their leader."

His voice boomed out, deep and warm. There was a firm gentleness in his tone, and it was also... respectful.

That caught Mawat off guard, never had an adult talked to him like that, not even the Jedi. The other children, the children that became the Young, treated Mawat with respect only after he earned it. And Mawat had earned that respect, but...

Rani, Obi-Wan, Nield, Cerasi, Joli, and Deila. He didn't need to prove himself to them. They were the ones that had looked at him and saw someone necessary. They held him to the same standards that they conducted themselves. They all treated him like he mattered.

Even though Joli had first said those awful, horrible things, when he joined the Young, the others had defended Mawat without a single thought. And Mawat had protected Deila, Nield, and Rani when the venomous words were thrown at them.

After some time, Joli had apologized, sincerely. And then Joli saved Mawat's life.

"Why are you talking with us? Why aren't you just forcing us to do what you say?" Mawat asked, confused.

"Because that's not who I am. Who my fellow Mando'ade are. We attain and strive to be better than that," Jaster's chest puffed with pride at that statement. "What use is there in being the same kriffing thing as the other two?"

There was silence after that. None of them knew how to respond to that.

"Here," Jaster placed his helmet on the ground. "Would you tell me what your names are? Gedet'ye?"

Pale green eyes lowered for a moment as Cerasi fiddled with her hands. "Cerasi..." She swallowed, then hesitated as the silence drew on. "Um... well, She/her/hers. And I'm a leader of the Young."

Jaster's warm silver eyes watched her gently. He gave a nod and then those eyes moved to Mawat and Joli.

Joli crossed his arms. "Joli. He/him/his.”

"He's also one of the Young's leaders, and so am I," Mawat snarled. "Mawat, He/him/his."

Jaster smiled. "So we all are leaders of our people."

Briefly Cerasi's mouth twitched in a small smile. 

Joli spoke up. "I don't like that you made Obi-Wan sleep."

Jaster gave him a brief smile. "You saw how the durasteel blade broke; if we didn't help your vod calm down, something worse could have happened. Normally the Cabur'Jetti would be here to calm their adiik down, but..."

"You mean that coward, Master Qui-Gon?" Mawat spat. "What, is he supposed to help prevent whatever the kriff that was? Well, he hit the road along with that other Jedi about two months ago. Left Obi-Wan here after he chose us."

Jaster's lips thinned into a grimace. "Is that what happened?"

"Master Qui-Gon made it very clear that if Obi-Wan did not leave with him that he would remain here alone, and no one from the Jedi Temple would come for him," Cerasi stated firmly.

"He even took Obi-Wan's lightsaber from him!" Joli added. "And Obi-Wan said that his lightsaber was his life!"

Only then did Mawat see how those warm sparkling silver eyes could turn into icy steel. He swallowed, suppressing a shiver. 'This man could kill everyone here,' Mawat thought. 'And yet, he is acting as if it was the other way around. Why?'

Then just as quick, Jaster's expression smoothed back. "Obi-Wan told his cabur to go kriff off?"

"Yes. Obi-Wan chose us. He chose us instead of going back to a lifestyle that the rest of us have only dreamed about. He chose to fight for us instead of the life he wanted." Cerasi sniffed, quickly wiping an arm across her face. Mawat knew she was trying not to cry.

"What do you want?" Mawat asked bluntly.

Jaster motioned. "To talk to you on my ship. All of you, if I may. We, the Mando'ade, have something to offer all of you, every single one of you adiiks. This offer will also be given to Obi-Wan and Rani when both can hear it. I promise that if you don't want to go on the ship, you don't have to, but we want to help. And some of you are badly hurt."

Cerasi nodded slowly, unsure. She paused, wringing her hands. "Oh... well, okay," She said quietly. "That, that sounds okay, yeah. Yeah, sure."

"What?" Mawat hissed. "Really?"

Cerasi frowned at him. "Talking is better than having to try and fight them, Mawat. And they are going to help Rani. They are helping her right now."

Mawat shook his head. "I say no, I say that we don't get involved in this. At all. We have a war to fight here."

Cerasi shook her head. "My vote is yes."

Mawat growled and looked at Joli, frowning. "And what do you say, huh?"

Joli blinked. "Me? Why am I a part of this?"

Mawat snorted. "Nield made you one of our leaders, didn't he? And one of the rules we made was that the leaders have to put things to a vote. Right now, one of those leaders is kriffing asleep, and the other two aren't here. Cerasi and I have laid out our votes, and now it is up to you."

Joli bit his lip, staring at Obi-Wan.

"...Talk," He finally said. "My vote is yes for the talk. But I want Obi-Wan awake for the talk; I want him to be there. I want all of the leaders for the talk."

Mawat, being overruled, sighed heavily and glared at Jaster. "Fine. Kriffing fine, we will talk. But if you hurt anyone I'll."

"Rip my spine out?" Jaster finished dryly. "I can fully assure you, everyone on my fleet would rather behead me than stand by and let me hurt an adiik."

Jaster looked at Obi-Wan, helmet tilted. "Is there some way we could help him relax a bit? Prevent another panic attack?"

"Have the younger ones there," Joli said automatically. "He'd be so busy protecting them that he won't bother with the rest of you."

Jaster smirked slightly and stood then, gathering Obi-Wan up in one swift motion. "Let's get out of this haran then."

Mawat grimaced and turned away. He watched as the rest of the Young's leaders slowly came out of the sewers. Nield came out; first, shoulders set and hands at his sides. When Nield looked at Mawat, Mawat sneered at him. He knew why Nield had frozen up, Mawat understood it better than most of the Young, and he knew better.

But kriff, right now, Mawat was mad about it.

Nield frowned and looked away, face tightening. They had been overwhelmed so easily.

Deila stomped out of the sewer, hands balled into tight fists.

'She's angry as kriff.' Mawat realized with a dark grin. Good, he felt the same way. Maybe together they could plan some sort of escape. If they had to, that is.

Nield and Obi-Wan both got dirty glares, but Deila gave the Mandalorians the nastiest scowl she could muster.

The rest of the Young came out; some were sleepy having been just awoken, others were awoken by the fight that had happened and was giving the Mandalorians frightened glances. The rest of the wounded were carried, just like Rani was.

The small creature followed beside Jaster, watching Obi-Wan with golden eyes. Almost as if the creature was concerned about him. The Young got onto the Mandalorian transport ship that would carry them to the giant flagship of the Mandalorian fleet, none of them saying a word to each other.

There was so much for them all to take in. So much for the Young to fear. And there was so much that they didn't know. Yet the Young's leaders wanted to face this new unknown, frightening thing together.

Like they had promised each other two months ago when Obi-Wan chose them.

<><><>

It was going to be at most an hour before they reached the flagship. Enough time for a quick redressing of the wounds and to let Mijr fuss over him like the mother tooka he was.

Jaster came into the med-bay and took off his green buy'ce. He noticed Bihes's hunched over form as they sat at one of the medical desks, hands covering their face. The Clawdite's reptilian skin was a sickly yellow, displaying the baar'ur's awful mood.

Jaster pressed his lips together as his chest tightened.

He didn't have to glance to know that the five-year-old adiik with a severely broken leg was lying on a cot nearby, leg bandaged, a split keeping the bone straight. He wasn't sure if they were sleeping from the pain medication or pretending to sleep out of fear.

Laying the buy'ce on the counter, Jaster turned towards Bihes and leaned on the wall near them. "Where is your Striil Bihes?" He asked simply.

Bihes lifted their sickly yellow face from their hands, sniffing quietly. "Su cuy 'gar 'Alor. It's with Navik and our new ik'aad. It's usually best to have both Striil to keep an eye on Bris while Navik takes care of the ik'aad. And... Navik was worried about having nightmares again..."

Their voice ground to a halt, and their skin fluctuated between an angry red to a pale brown. Finally, it settled on a muddy maroonish brown, and Bihes shrugged, hands falling helplessly. "I... We didn't want... with the ik'aad you see..."

Jaster gritted his teeth in understanding. "You think that once he hears about these adiiks, he'll start sleepwalking again."

The Clawdite nodded sadly, huge yellow eyes brimming with tears. "This is something straight out of one of his nightmares, you know. One of the reasons he doesn't want to visit our home-world. He'd rather have our ad'ika not know their home planet than risk exposing them to what lies there."

Jaster reached out a gloved hand to Bihes. "Come on. I think that the adiiks would be happy to see their vod'ika nice and safe. Go ahead and move the cot to the room where the rest of them are. Then go on to your aliit and be with your riduur. Your Striil will help you relax, Navik's Striil will help him, and whatever happens, happens. K'atini, we will work through it together."

Bihes nodded and then tilted their head at him curiously. "V'ore, 'Alor. What about...," Their skin turned into a dirty grey. "Oh... right. Mijr will be here to patch you up. Right, okay."

Bihes took Jaster's hand and sat up, giving him a sad smile. "V'ore 'Alor."

Jaster chuckled. "Meh gar kyrayc, shuk bah ni Bihes. Take care of yourself."

Bihes left with the young wounded adiik, heading off to comm their riduur to expect them for dinner. Jaster allowed himself a small smile at the thought of the happy aliit of four. Then he got to work.

The red beskar'gam felt more cumbersome than usual as he peeled it off slowly. The green buy'ce stared out at him from the counter, the black visor piercing into his soul. The image of the young wounded adiik on the cot burning at the back of his mind.

'How could this have happened? What were those dinii thinking? Why didn't I know about this sooner, stopped this sooner?' Jaster groaned softly to himself.

Jaster sighed, a long tired, angry sigh as he lowered himself onto the transport's ship med-bay table. 'Would the galaxy's cruelties never cease?'

The pill might have done its job on calming the adiik down, but when they woke back up... Those frightened blue green-grey eyes made his stomach turn, and his heart clench. It was so chillingly familiar.

Jaster knew the pain that the adiik was going through. He understood deep down what it was like to watch your protector walk away from you without even looking back once. To feel that tearing ache in your heart, to feel so alone and empty. To wonder if you made the right choice after all.

Jaster kriffing knew.

For a moment, he was not in the transport med-bay, he was not the Mand'alor, and he was not a buir. For a moment, he was simply a young boy of eleven standing alone in Mandalore's sands, holding a bloody knife and watching the retreating forms with tears running down his face.

Jaster winced. The swollen lump on his head gave a painful twang. Those poor adiiks...

He had noticed the thinness, the small wounds on their bodies, the fear barely hidden in their faces. They all had significantly suffered, and only the ka'ra knew how many died before they landed here. What if Jaster had chosen a different planet to invade, what would have happened then?

Bukur, his ever-faithful Striil, jumped up next to him and placed a paw onto his good right leg. It whined a sharp, insistent noise. Jaster snorted darkly and petted Bukur gently.

"I know, I know," He gave another sigh as he ran a hand over the Striil's soft fur. "Don't brood. It's all in the past, I have an aliit now, I'm the Mand'alor, and we've got about a hundred starving wounded adiiks to take care of now. I need to focus on them, on my people, and my aliit. I know."

Jaster breathed in deep and slow, leaning his sore throbbing head against the wall. Absently he stroked Bukur's fur. Bukur purred at his side. For a few minutes, they sat there together, and Jaster's mind was as calm as the ka'ra.

Then he gave a dry chuckle. "Hovering like a mother tooka now, ad'ika?"

Jango came out from the transport ship's doorway, blue beskar'gam splattered with dried blood. He held his blue buy'ce under his arm, a frown on his stubborn face. "Where's Mijr?"

"No doubt recovering from the migraine that he received upon hearing that there are a hundred wounded adiik he's going to have to take care of soon. All of our baar'ur just about had a heart attack when they got told." Jaster remarked.

"And a fair number of them are now hitting the training equipment or sparring to release their anger," Jango huffed. "But, they will be eager and ready to help."

Jaster smiled and nodded. He winced again as his wounds protested against the movement.

Jango squeezed Jaster's hand gently, those black eyes filled with concern. "Are you alright, buir?"

Jaster swallowed down the sudden lump in his throat and snorted weakly. "These pills I'm on must be making me sentimental. I swear you made that same face when you were eight and wanted to help Mijr bandage my leg."

Jango rolled his eyes at his buir. "You swan dived after that bandit, just after you told me not to do fancy tricks with my jet-pack on the job."

"Unless," Jaster added, raising a finger. "Unless those tricks help you out. You were showing off, which distracted you from the job. The swan dive not only rescued Voyd, but it also saved my life. If I had stayed that high in the air when my jet-pack broke, I could have broken my neck."

Jango sighed good-naturally. Jaster tilted his head in a silent question as he glanced at the dried blood.

Jango grinned toothily at his buir. "Those demagolka aren't going to be able to do much fighting now. Not after what we did."

"We? Therefore, I assume that your vod, who by the way thinks I can't see her over there, helped you teach that hut'tuun a lesson?" Jaster raised an eyebrow at Arla's lurking form. She straightened from the doorway once she realized that Jaster could see her.

"Now, just because I'm injured doesn't mean you two have to sneak up on me to make sure I'm taking care of myself. Bukur does a good enough job as it is." Jaster said.

Arla came over, hands on her hips. "Mijr wasn't happy that you went out on the field, buir."

"Mijr can kriffing deal," Jaster rolled his eyes. "Besides soon, he will have other things to worry about."

Arla paused. She took off her white buy'ce, her dirty blonde hair falling against her shoulders, black eyes narrowed. "So you are going to have the adiik's choose what happens next?"

Jaster sighed. "Lek. Absolutely, it is their choice alone. I know what you want to do ner ad'ika, I do. Trust me. I want it just as bad. If I could, I would take them all in a blink of an eye."

"Why can't you?" Jango frowned.

"It's not a matter of can't, it's a matter of what the adiiks want," Jaster spoke. "And I'll grant them almost anything they want. Except going back to that kriffing haran of a planet. They can go back once they are adults that know how to take care of themselves if that's what they wish."

"And if they don't want help? If they wish to be dumped onto the nearest planet?" Arla asked.

"Then that is what we must do," Jaster said.

"Do we have to get the adiik's permission to help them?" Jango suggested.

Arla gave him the stink eye. "Jango don't start that osik again."

Jango sneered. "What osik?"

Jaster eyed Jango sternly. "Would you prefer we force them, Jango?"

Jango winced and sighed, running a gloved hand over his face, "I'm not saying that, I."

"But you are," Jaster shook his head. "At the very least we will give them medical aid, we will feed them, and we take them where they want to go. Anything more we will have to offer to them. I won't force any of them to be here if they don't want to. And I'm fairly certain that this Obi-Wan isn't going to be happy when he wakes up."

Arla sniffed. "Voyd thinks it's hilarious that you gave the Jetti adiik your cloak."

"Wait. What?" Jango stared at his vod, delight creeping into his voice. "Buir did what?"

Jaster rolled his eyes. "It's cold in space, and you know it. And those tunics weren't going to be any help whatsoever."

"So the Mand'alor wraps the Jetti adiik in his legendary red cloak, oh Kyr'stad is going to be fuming when they hear about this!" Arla snorted, barely hiding her giggles.

"I'm curious as to what the Jetti would think." Jango chuckled.

Jaster rolled his eyes and waited until the giggles subsided, then he tilted his head at Arla. "Something you wanted from me, cyar'ika?"

Arla paused, then sighed. "The Jetti adiik..."

Jaster groaned. "Yeah, I know, you were worried about the lashing out. I was too. But a Jetti that lashes out and becomes a Dar'jetti is different from a Jetti lashing out because they are under far too much stress. You can imagine how much pressure they were under, all of them.

That's part of why it is a bad idea to mess with a Cabur'jetti, the Jetti adiik could get upset and do something. Or," Jaster grimaced. "It is a bad idea when they are acting normally."

"The one that we found, his Cabur'jetti..." Arla shook her head, biting at her cheek. "Osik, who would leave their adiik behind? And in the middle of a war?"

"A Dar'jetti, that's who," Jaster growled. Bukur shifted slightly, golden eyes narrowing.

"You think Obi-Wan's Cabur'jetti is a Dar'jetti?" Jango asked.

"Kind of. I think that his cabur just turned or is about to turn into one. Cabur'jetti don't leave their Jetti adiik at all ever. There is a reason that most sane people in the galaxy don't kill Cabur'jetti or Jetti adiik. Angry Force users are bad for anyone's health," Jaster sneered. "Either way, I'm going to be informing the Jetti Temple about our discovery and what I think of this Master Qui-Gon."

Arla grinned a sharp wolfish grin. "So, you're saying I get to help you look extra scary?"

"If you have any ideas, be sure to let me know. Jango, I'm assuming Apot'pala can help us give them a comm." Jaster smirked. "There isn't a data-pad in the galaxy that can withstand that Twi'lek's hacking abilities."

"Lek, buir. However, if Obi-Wan's Cabur'jetti is a Dar'jetti..." Jango began softly.

Jaster growled. "No. Obi-Wan isn't a Dar'jetti. I admit I don't know if Jetti adiiks can turn or 'fall' as they call it. But no, I looked into his eyes, and that wasn't a Dar'jetti there. It was a kriffing frightened adiik going through a panic attack, and they didn't have anyone to help them."

Jaster breathed out a heavy breath, gripping the edge of the med-bay table that he sat on.

"Osik, he's been dealing with it all alone, huh?" Arla shivered. "It's kriffing hard enough for me to deal with fear, how much worse is it for him?"

Jango nodded firmly. "So we'll take care of it then. We'll treat him just like any other adiik that has gone through haran."

"If this Master Qui-Gon is a Dar'jetti, I'll happily let the Mando'ade hunt him down, ner cyar'ika. And if he isn't then we'll just have to settle for a lesson, won't we?" Jaster grinned at his two adiiks.  

Both Arla and Jango perked up when Jaster said that, their black eyes glittering with delight.

<><><>

Obi-Wan sighed as he slowly stirred, not wanting to face the pounding headache. His mind was a confused jumble of pieces and fragments all mixed together. It was warm and dry where he was lying, and it was lovely. It had been months since he had slept somewhere soft like this.

"Oh look who decided to wake the kriff up." snorted Deila.

Oh boy, she sounded mad.

Obi-Wan blinked hazily at Deila's fuzzy scowl and gave her a tired smile. "Hi, Deila."

"What, don't 'hi' me! We've got a huge problem!" Deila growled.

"What's wrong, did Ronnei put a bug into your bomb bag again?" Obi-Wan snickered.

Deila's scowl shifted into concern, and she sat up quickly. "Ah kriff, he doesn't remember, something wrong, Nield, something's kriffing wrong! I knew it, why did we agree to this, argh Obi-Wan I would kick you if you weren't hurt, do you hear me?"

"What? What's going on? What do you mean? I'm not hurt." Obi-Wan frowned and sat up. He didn't feel hurt, just slightly dizzy. Perhaps he was sore and hungry, but they were in the middle of a war.

He blinked slowly. They were in a large grey room with benches. He was lying on one of the seats, wrapped in a massive red blanket. That would explain why he was so warm and comfy, although he didn't recognize the blanket.

'Who's blanket, is it?' He wondered, making no move to take it off.

It felt far too lovely. All of the Young were here, sitting on the benches or the floor, huddling together. The air was tight with curiosity, apprehension, nervousness, and perhaps for the first time in two months...

Hope. There was a small hope in the air, Obi-Wan could feel it. The Force lightened slightly in his chest. It felt good that little piece of hope.

"Deila, stop it," Cerasi snapped, leaning over Deila's shoulder. Her pale green eyes were red from crying, but she looked over Obi-Wan quickly. "He's fine. Just confused. Obi-Wan concentrate. We are on a Mandalorian transport ship, in some sort of a room together. Rani's here too, and one of the creatures."

"Rani? One of the creatures? Where?" Obi-Wan glanced about. Joli and Ronnei were standing near Rani and Mawat, and Nield was pacing around the room, frowning.

Then he spotted the creature sitting patiently next to him, like a tooka, watching him with golden eyes. Obi-Wan blinked. Slowly the memories trickled back in.
Fear clutched at Obi-Wan, and he stiffened, pulling away from the creature. "The Mandalorians..."

"Congratulations on catching up." Mawat sneered from the corner where he sat near a medical bed. Obi-Wan saw Rani lying in the middle of medical sheets, leg in a splint, watching him with large curious brown eyes.

Mawat growled. "Thanks to Joli and Cerasi, we get to 'talk' to these Mandalorians."

"Talk?" Obi-Wan repeated uselessly. "Talk, what do you mean talk?"

"That's what they said, talk," Nield sighed. "So that's what we are waiting for. To talk to them."

"What if it's a trap? What if it is a trick? How could you let them get close to the little ones? They're child stealers, Nield, you promised!" Obi-Wan shivered despite the cloak's warmth, his guts felt like ice. This was terrible, very bad, how were they going to get out of this?

The creature whined and nudged him.

Obi-Wan glanced at it with a blank look. 'Did, did the creature just nudge me with its snout?'

"I did my best! It's, it's not my fault I froze!" Nield snapped back, turning on his heel.

Deila glared at Nield. "No one said it was, Nield, don't act like that."

"Leave me the kriff alone!" Nield snarled, heading into the corner, arms crossed.

Cerasi sighed. "Did you have to press him, Mawat?"

"...Maybe not," Mawat said very quietly. "I don't know."

"What did you do, Mawat?" Rani asked, staring at him. "You didn't punch anyone, did you?"

Mawat snorted. "No, no, I didn't punch anyone. You're never letting go of that, are you?"

"Well, it wasn't fair of you to punch Obi-Wan when his Master tried to make him leave us. It wasn't his fault." Rani told him confidently.

"I said I was sorry," Mawat leaned over and grabbed Rani's little hand. "And I'll tell Nield sorry too, it's just, of all the times to freeze, why then?"

"He can't help it," Rani replied stubbornly.

"It could have gotten us killed," Mawat said bluntly.

"He couldn't help it." Ronnei echoed, eyeing Mawat with sharp hazel eyes.

"Just like I can't help my monsters," Rani said with an air of finality. Mawat sighed, squeezing Rani's hand. He did not reply.

Obi-Wan frowned at Nield's back. "What happened?"

Joli frowned. "He froze, Obi-Wan. Like you did with the creature."

Obi-Wan went silent, staring at his feet. He shivered, suddenly noticing the chill of the air. They were in space. They were being taken somewhere. He didn't know where what if it was somewhere horrible?

"Oh kriff no, you're not doing that here. Not with the little ones around us." Deila pinched Obi-Wan's arm, frowning at him.

"Ow! Deila, what the kriff was that for?" Obi-Wan glared at her, rubbing his arm.

Before Deila could reply, the creature gave a very soft growl eyeing Deila with those bright golden eyes. Deila started, surprised.

"What, hey, no, she's my friend, don't growl at her," Obi-Wan told the creature hastily. "She's just trying to tell me something, it's fine, I'm fine, everything is okay."

The creature made a noise that suspiciously sounded like a snort, and then it laid down snuggling closer to Obi-Wan, deliberately laying its tail onto his lap. Obi-Wan sighed and glanced at Deila.

Deila jutted her chin out stubbornly. "Joli, Cerasi, and Mawat told the rest of us how you broke that durasteel blade. I don't know anything about this 'lashing out,' but I know you wouldn't willingly hurt the rest of us, so whatever this lashing out is, I'm going to stop it because you're my kriffing friend. Even if this creature doesn't like my methods."

His heart froze. Oh, right, he had used the Dark Force. Kriff.

"I... that was me using the Dark Side. I lost control, and I used the Dark Side," Obi-Wan admitted, eyes turning away in shame. He wrapped his arms around himself tightly. "Please, please forgive me."

'How could you? How could you have done that? After everything that you went through, everything that you sacrificed, how could you have done this?' He scolded himself, nails biting into his arms.

"Oi! Cut that out," Mawat snapped. "You are not blaming yourself for that!"

Obi-Wan turned to him furiously. "I kriffing lost control. That's unforgivable, inexcusable if my Master were here he'd take me to the Jedi Council, and they'd lock me up and."

The creature whined, cutting him off.

Obi-Wan stopped and looked at the creature. "What?"

"That Jaster fellow said that your Master should have helped you through it," Joli snarled. "That he should have calmed you down."

Obi-Wan barked out a laugh that sounded like a sob. "Oh, really?"

Nield emerged from the corner, glaring at him sullenly. "If I'm not at fault for striking at anyone when I freeze up, then neither are you for the 'lashing out' thing or 'dark side,' or whatever. You know?"

Obi-Wan swallowed, sighed, nodded, and pushed it all away, stuffing it downwards. He'd deal with it later. Yet, Obi-Wan jumped, when the creature placed a paw on his chest. He watched it warily, unsure of its intentions. It watched him back steadily. He was surprised at how calm the creature was. And how warm and soft...

Nield wandered over to where Rani was, talking to her softly. Obi-Wan swallowed, fidgeted, and looked down. He looked at his hands, expecting the cuts. He wasn't expecting the bandages that were wrapped around those cuts.

Obi-Wan frowned at Mawat. "I thought we were saving the bandages for Rani."

Mawat gestured at the bed. "The Mandalorians put Rani in this splint thing, and they gave her their bandages. Those bandages are from them as well."

Obi-Wan blinked in surprise. Then he frowned, folding his arms inside himself. "...I see."

'It's a trick. There's a trick that I'm not noticing, a trap I need to spot, the Mandalorians wouldn't just ignore a Jedi youngling like this, I'm worth thousands on the slave market, and even more to the Sith." He shuddered at the thought.

Then those thoughts were broken by Rani's tired, worn-out voice. "Did Obi-Wan really break a durasteel blade with his bare hands, Mawat?"

Mawat chuckled. "Yeah, he did. Surprised the Mandalorians pretty badly when he did. Wehutti was rather shocked as well."

"Good," Rani said, then she glanced at Obi-Wan. "But, then, why do you need bandages if you succeeded?"

"Because doing that wasn't... smart, and I cut my hands, Rani, see?" Obi-Wan lifted his hands for her to see.

Rani's brown eyes widened. "Oh, did you go and see the Mandalorian doctor too?"

"Er," Obi-Wan paused. "Erm, uh, I, I guess I might have."

"Did they turn colors for you as well? They were doing that for me while they fixed my leg! They were able to turn pink and blue, and purple, and oh, I'm going to get a cast!" Rani gushed. "And I get to choose the color of the cast!"

Obi-Wan gave her a hesitant smile. "I'm glad to see that you are doing better, Rani."

He paused and looked at the creature. "May I please go see my friend?"

The creature sat up, allowing him to stagger to Rani's side.

Obi-Wan held onto the red blanket because he was confident that Rani would like it. It definitely wasn't because he was cold and it was warm. Deila and Cerasi picked their way over as well. Then it followed him over, tongue lolling happily out of its mouth. Obi-Wan tried to ignore it, but that was hard when it was rubbing against your leg.

Rani reached out for Obi-Wan's hand, running her newly cleaned fingers over Obi-Wan's bandaged ones. "This is the cleanest I've seen your hands, Obi-Wan."

Obi-Wan snorted. "Yeah, I'll bet."

Joli shuffled closer, biting his lip. "You are going to talk to them with us, Obi-Wan?" Joli asked softly.

Obi-Wan sighed. "Of course, Joli. Of course, I will."

Cerasi and Nield shared a knowing look. Mawat raised an unimpressed eyebrow at him.

"If it gets to be too much for you," Deila warned. "And you start doing any of this 'dark lashing out' stuff, I'm kriffing dragging you out of the room."

Ronnei chimed in. "I'll help! I'll help!"

Obi-Wan smiled at them, a real smile this time. "Always the charmer, aren't you, Deila?"

"Someone has to be willing to say things around here." Deila sniffed.

Rani squeezed his hand. "You can sit with me up here if you want while we talk."

Cerasi smiled at the little girl. "Oh, but that bed is just for you, Rani. It is a special bed." Cerasi nudged Nield with her elbow.

Nield quickly added. "Because you are a special girl."

Rani frowned. "Obi-Wan is special too. So are you, Cerasi and Nield. All of you are."

Nobody said anything after that declaration. Words weren't needed. They simply scooted closer to each other until they could reach each other's hands. 

It was their version of a hug. They had learned how to give hugs across broken buildings and burning wreckage. Sometimes the only chance to say goodbye is a quick squeeze of the fingers. And Obi-Wan had lost count how many times they had held each other thinking that it was the last time ever.

'It might just be the last time once again.' He couldn't help thinking.

Yet Obi-Wan could feel the room's determination, the courage that each of them held, all of it was just as strong as ever. But now there was something else in the room, something that he hadn't felt in two months. There it was that feeling of hope fluttering so delicately in his chest. His friends had hope even though the kriffing Mandalorians were holding them captive.

And Obi-Wan was going to do what he promised two months ago, when he turned his back on the Jedi Order. When he turned his back on Master Qui-Gon.

That he'd defend that hope as best as he could, for as long as he could.

Chapter Text

The Jedi report that Padawan Obi-Wan left the Jedi Order on the planet Meldia/Daan caused a bit of a stir at the Jedi Temple.

Everybody at the Temple knew that Padawan Obi-Wan Kenobi had abandoned the Order and was now residing on the planet Melida/Daan. But no one knew what he could possibly be doing there, and no one had gone to find out. No one at all.

Obi-Wan had been there for two weeks, and none of his friends knew why. He hadn’t responded to any of his fellow creche-members’s messages on the holo-net. The last time Bant had checked, the count was at least several hundred. Bant was already profoundly hurt by the sudden confusing path Obi-Wan had decided to take, but to ignore her like this. Like she actually meant nothing...

It stung. It stung deep into Bant's heart, making her gills tremble. Her two chin barbles shivered as she followed her routine without him day after day, the pain digging its sharp claws further into her soul. No longer could she meditate every time she tried something no matter how little would bother her and disrupt it. She knew what was wrong, her Force bond with Obi-Wan was frayed and ragged with the painful absence.

‘I want him back, right now,’ She fumed silently to herself. ‘Oh Force, who’s taking care of him if I’m not there?’ She had been there for him ever since they were both tiny younglings, at least three.

‘Who else in the galaxy would be there for him?’ Bant whispers to herself as she tries to mediate. “Who else but us?”

The other creche-members were being affected by his absence as well.

Siri was losing her natural cool and snapping at everyone who dared to walk by her, even the other Masters or Creche-Master Vant. It was unnerving to Bant, seeing the girl that so loyally followed the Code collapse into these sulky moods. Considering all of the sneering debates she and Obi-Wan had, Bant thought that his absence would have cheered her.

But the opposite was true. Although Siri would apologize after every mood swing, the reason for her behavior was plainly evident. Siri could no longer talk with Obi-Wan for he was gone or Bruck, for he was ill.

Or so, Bant assumed.

Bruck Chun had been acting very weird and was being unresponsive to even his best friend Aalto. The frequently brutish taunting boy had faded into a shadow of himself, and nothing could drag him out of it. Not that many were trying to. Obi-Wan hadn’t been his only target.

‘Guilt,’ Bant decided after a few days. ‘The guilt is eating him alive, and he doesn’t know how to handle it. But he’s trying to stay in control. He is one with the Force. He is a Jedi-in-training, like me.’

Sometimes she wasn’t so sure of that, the worry prickling in the back of her mind. But every time the worry was there, she banished it with thoughts of how Bruck treated Obi-Wan, how he made Obi-Wan cry. The horrible nickname that he called Obi-Wan, ‘Oafy-Wan.’

‘Revenge is not the Jedi way,’ Something with Obi-Wan’s soft voice reminded her at times.

‘This... this isn’t revenge, Obi-Wan. It is simply cold, unfeeling indifference, neutrality in its purest form. He doesn’t need my sympathy, he has others to give it to him.’ That’s what Bant told herself every time she turned her back on her fellow creche-mate.

She was far too busy helping her other creche-mates with their pain anyways.

Quinlan was removing his hand gloves that protected him from sensing other presences on objects and touching every object that still held remains of Obi-Wan’s presence, even if it made him recede into that awful blankness. The blankness always made him dissolve into helpless tears.

Bant told Creche-Master Vant every time she caught him at it. Therefore, Creche-Master Vant started to remove those items, not wanting Quinlan to engage in such behavior. Even if Quinlan threw a fit at Bant when this happened, it was better than that awful numbing blankness as he sank into another’s presence, losing himself.

Reeft no longer asked for seconds, and he picked at his food listlessly, head in his hands. The Dressellian moped about the Temple, staring out of the windows. Bant tried her best to get him out of it, worry curling in her chin barbles.

Garen no longer messed with his piloting maps or read his ship manuals. And he was starting to pick fights with the other younglings, upset that Obi-Wan was ignoring them. Bant often wondered after arguments with Garen if this worn-out feeling is what Obi-Wan usually felt like.

Aalto, hurt by Bruck’s attitude and angry from Quinlan’s glares, Garen’s fights, Siri’s comments, had taken to hitting the training dummies with his training lightsaber. He was horrible at it, but no one had the heart to tell him. Instead, Bant found it comforting to watch him hit the training dummy over and over. He was just as unhappy as her.

Bant sometimes cried at night, hugging her pillow tightly. ‘This just wasn’t happening, this wasn’t possible. This is an awful dream I’m having, and I’ll wake up soon.’

It was at night where her mind stilled and focused on the problem turning over in her mind. Sweet, kind, gentle Obi-Wan would never do such a thing like this. Not the Obi-Wan that mediated with her in Room of a Thousand Fountains when she needed to re-hydrate her skin. The friend who built tiny ship models with Garen that pranks others with Quinlan. The one that gives food to Reeft and Bruck without thought. That endured Bruck’s terrible attitude with a calm temper.

The boy who engaged with Siri’s debates with calm, steady replies and a cheeky grin. Who quietly allowed Aalto to tease him even if it hurt his feelings.

‘No, he wouldn’t do that. Not my friend. So why then isn’t he coming home? Where did he go?’ She asked, even though no one had the answer.

Then one horrible day, they got the news that the Mandalorian Empire was spotted near Meldia/Daan. Everybody in the Temple realized that Obi-Wan was unprotected and alone on the same planet that the Mandalorian Empire was choosing to invade. That made everything even worse.

Padawans, Initiates, and younglings alike began to whisper the Mandalorian stories to each other over their meals, spoke every legend in the creches and the lesson halls, and wondered about the possibilities during the time that they should be sleeping.

Obi-Wan’s creche-members didn’t react well upon hearing them.

“I heard that they take you away and brainwash you with the Dark Side of the Force.” Someone said at breakfast. Bant frowned as Quinlan glared at their fellow youngling, his foot kicking them under the table, out of the Masters’ sight.

“Shut the kriff up!” Quinlan hissed through his bared teeth.

“You know what I’ve heard? I’ve heard that a long time ago a whole group of Jedi Masters Fell and stole a whole creche of younglings. They gave the younglings over to the Mandalorians as slaves. You can imagine what happened to them, huh?” Someone whispered eagerly during lightsaber training.

“I can eat you, you know. And I will if you don’t stop.” Reeft snapped at them. He got a scolding for that comment, but it rang in Bant’s ears nonetheless.

“I hear that they lock you up and manipulate you into becoming one of them. That’s how Tarre Vizsla turned into a Mandalorian, and that’s why their lightsaber is all black. They say that the kyber crystal inside is shattered.” Someone cheerfully explained during one of their meditation hours.

Bant cried out as Garen punched them, fist raising in anger. He was in serious trouble for that and didn’t come back into the creche until dark. He cried when he came back, sitting at the spot where he and Obi-Wan used to hang out.

It took Creche-Master Vant a long while to calm him down.

“Well, I think that they are going to feed him to those giant creatures on their planet.” Someone taunted in the library.

Aalto, to everyone’s surprise, turned around and spat in their face. “I’ll feed you to a creature if you so wish!”

Aalto spent the day in meditation with Master Yoda and Mace Windu. Bant didn’t like the squirming feeling she got at the thought that even one of Obi-Wan’s bullies was worried about him.

Siri, for the first time since she was five, put away the data pads and stopped practicing her light-saber forms. The girl that knew the Code by heart abandoned all of her hard work. Instead of writing down notes about their lessons, she now scribbled down a dozen pretend arguments and scripted fights with Obi-Wan. Bant had read one of them out of curiosity one day after Siri was called to talk to Master Tahl.

It started with Siri’s usual words on how Obi-Wan was careless and foolish. Then it rambled off into how Obi-Wan should have realized just how much he was needed at the Temple, he should have never left, how dare Obi-Wan do this, how could he, can’t Obi-Wan just come back already? Bant sighs and rubs a webbed hand on her headache.

Then after almost two months had passed, two horrible empty months, Bruck Chun vanished into thin air, his Force bond becoming just as frayed and ragged as Obi-Wan’s.

The Jedi Masters scoured the Temple, searched every nearby road, and questioned anyone who might have even glanced at the youngling. The rest of the creche-members were placed under heavy supervision, and the air was rife with stress and fear.

‘Fear leads to anger, anger leads to hate, and hate,’ Bant shivered. ‘Hate leads to the Dark Side. Is this then the Dark Side that I’m feeling?’

Bant broke down and wept. Creche-Master Vant hugged her tightly and murmured to her softly. Her blue lekkus stroked Bant’s shoulders as she told her firmly that it was their duty to stick together.

Only then did Bant wonder if her silence at Bruck’s behavior was wrong. Had she failed in her duty as a creche-mate, as an Initiate, as a Jedi? Now Bruck Chun was gone. And no one in the Temple had any idea where he went.

‘Would have Obi-Wan said something even if Bruck was a bully?’ She thought. ‘Is there anyone looking for Bruck? Or has he ended up like Obi-Wan?’

<><><>

Cerasi swallowed nervously, holding onto Obi-Wan’s hand tightly as she could and reassuring him quietly. She knew well the signs of his fear, and he was petrified right now. Blue greenish-grey eyes downcast, ginger head bowed, thin arms laying flat at his sides.

The red blanket that he wore seemed to be swallowing him up, making him disappear inside.

There were only three Mandalorians in the room with them; Jaster, a pale red Nautolan, and an elderly Togruta. The Mandalorians weren’t wearing any of their armor, just blue soft-looking tunics. All three stood near the doorway and waited for the Young to get comfortable.

All three Mandalorians had the odd-looking creatures with them. Once the creatures entered the room, they began to cuddle and sit with other members of the Young. One of the creatures had taken a liking to Joli. Joli was cautiously petting the creature a half-smile on his face. The creature was purring contentedly, chin on Joli’s lap.

The one that has stuck to Obi-Wan’s side like glue stayed near him, watching him with those golden eyes.

‘They are trying to get him to relax.’ Cerasi reasoned to herself.

The moment the Mandalorians came inside, Obi-Wan had began to panic again. Whatever fantastical Jedi stories that ran through his head made him shrink back in terror and tremble slightly. But the Young were now vividly aware of what could happen if he became too afraid. If he ‘froze’ like Nield.

Nield may not destroy things with the power of his mind, but the consequences internally were just the same. Even Rani, who was only five, somehow could sense the fear as well. Rani, being a pushy five-year-old, did what any pushy five-year-old would do and demanded that Obi-Wan sit next to her.

Loudly and repeatedly.

Obi-Wan listened to her, because it was Obi-Wan, and sat next to her on the medical bed eyes still downcast. But now he had a little five-year-old practically giving him a hug despite her broken leg, Deila holding onto Obi-Wan’s other hand, and the other Young huddling near the medical cot.

The smaller creature was doing its best to nudge its way onto his lap, purring softly. Obi-Wan allowed it to come on his lap, lips briefly twitching in a faint smile as it lay there.

‘I hope that this is helping.’ Cerasi thinks as she watches Nield stiffen when Jaster moves slightly.

But Jaster was only shifting to find a more comfortable spot. There is no malice in those friendly, warm silver eyes. They are perhaps for the first time in a very long while, genuinely safe.

“Are you better now?” He asks gently, voice warm and soft.

Obi-Wan can only nod briefly. Jaster gestured at the other two Mandalorians.

“I’m Khi Dro. They/them/theirs.” The Nautolan introduced, pale red head-tails moving slowly along their shoulders.

Their wide brown eyes were the color of chocolate; Cerasi decides. Something in her soothes at the memory of chocolate. She had tasted it only once, a gift from Obi-Wan’s Temple creche-mates before leaving on the Melida/Daan mission. Obi-Wan had shared the precious sweet-tasting food with all of them, and it had been fantastic.

“I’m an Ori'ramikad,” Khi Dro continues. “In Basic, I suppose you would call me a second-in-command, but I’m much more in truth. I have responsibilities here on the Haat Mando’ade fleet, and one of those responsibilities is taking care of any adiik we might find that are being abused.”

The Young are silent at this, comprehending it quietly. Nield is the first one to speak. “You think we were being abused?”

“Lek. I know you were,” Khi Dro replies firmly. “And it was not okay. None of you deserved that. You should not have been forced to put your lives on the line for your freedom. All of you were abandoned by those that should have cared, and it was wrong.”

Obi-Wan jerks at that, head going up as he frowns at Khi Dro. “No, I wasn’t,” He tried to deny. “I left willingly. I chose to leave the Jedi Order. There was no reason for Master Qui-Gon to stay once he was no longer my Master.”

Jaster’s silver eyes hardened slightly. “No reason? Is that what he told you? That if you were to leave and not listen to him, that no one would come after you? That no one would care?”

Cerasi blinked, surprised. Jaster’s tone hadn’t changed, and yet... There was pain at those words, pain from experience.

‘Had Jaster been abandoned once?’ She wondered, confused.

The thought that the Mand’alor of the Mandalorian Empire having once been abandoned seemed almost silly to her.

‘Such powerful people like that don’t get abandoned or betrayed. No one would dare.’ She tells herself quietly.

Obi-Wan blinks, obviously confused. “Why would anyone from the Jedi Temple come for me? None of them have because I wasn't abandoned. I left the Order, I’m no longer a part of them.”

“You were placed under duress and forced between adiik’s lives or your own. Any Jetti worth the name would have chosen the adiik. And I’ll bet my buy’ce that your osik cabur hasn’t told the whole truth to your Jetti Council. It wouldn’t be the first time.” Jaster replies.

His tone is mild, but Cerasi notes how one of the creatures shuffles closer to Jaster as he speaks. Almost as if the words bring painful thoughts. “Which is why I’m going to be personally informing your Jetti Council on what I found.”

Obi-Wan shrinks slightly. “You are going to tell them that I used the Dark Side.”

Jaster shakes his head decisively. “No. I’m going to tell them that you had a panic attack and lashed out because your Cabur’jetti was not there to help you through it. That he stole your weapon, and he left you defenseless in the middle of a civil war. A war where adiiks were being shot at. If they have any sense in them, they will look into the matter and act accordingly. What happens to you is up to you, Obi-Wan.”

Obi-Wan is silent after that exchange, his head going back down. Cerasi squeezes his fingers.

The elderly Togruta speaks next, their fangs gleaming in the ship’s light as they grin. “ I’m Oje. She/her/hers. I’m a Vhett or in Basic, a farmer.”

Cerasi snorts aloud. She isn’t the only one, there are a few hushed giggles among the youngest. Cerasi couldn’t help herself. The idea was hilarious. A Mandalorian, one of the fiercest warriors in the galaxy, farming. The people who raided planets, who stole supplies from the Sith and the Republic. What use would there be in farming for them?

“A farmer?” Deila repeats astounded, trying to hold in a giggle. “A kriffing farmer?”

Oje smiles cheerfully. “Lek. I grow all sorts of things. Flowers, trees, bushes, food. There are animals, too, ad’ika.”

Ronnei leaned forward, pointing at the smaller creature in Obi-Wan’s lap. “There are more creatures here? Like that one?”

Oje laughs a bright warm, trilling sound. “No, no, more like farm animals. Nerfs, nunas, that kind of thing. If you wish to visit my yaim and talk about anything, I will be here to listen.”

Mawat tilts his head at her. “Anything?” He repeats.

“Anything you wish to talk about, and at any time, I’m here,” Oje affirms.

Obi-Wan raised his head slightly, lips pursed in thought. “...You, you’re a mind healer?”

Oje pauses, puzzling over the words. “Hmm... I suppose that would be a good translation. In Mando’a I’m called a Naakla’mirshe.”

“Mind healer? What’s that, Obi-Wan?” Joli looked uncertainly at Oje.

“...I, I don’t think it means the same thing that it means to me,” Obi-Wan pauses, brow wrinkled in confusion. “Mandalorians wouldn’t need someone to help clear their mind of the Dark Side.”

Oje chuckles. “No, but even Mando’ade can get a shuk'la misrshe or a haast. And no one should struggle through that alone.”

“We have those... things?” Deila asked carefully, frowning. “Why because we were fighting the Elders? How can you tell?”

Nield speaks his voice tight. “My freezing fits... Obi-Wan’s panic attack, all of these things that popped up once we started fighting our war. You know what I’m talking about.”

Silence spread over the Young as they thought it over.

Deila fidgets uncomfortably. Mawat’s hands grasped uselessly in the open air as he scowled. Cerasi frowns and lifts her knees to her chest, hugging them tightly. Joli pets the creature and sighs.

Rani watches the Mandalorians with wide brown eyes, something akin to hope in her young face. “Could you get rid of my monsters?”

The question was asked very softly, Cerasi could barely hear her. The words made her stomach clench.

Oje sighs. “I cannot make them go away just like that, ad’ika. But I can help you learn how to heal. All of you.”

Rani frowns and nods slowly. Mawat pats her shoulder gently.

Jaster spoke. “Here’s the unfortunate situation we face, ad’ika. What those ‘Elders’ did was utterly inexcusable. I can only imagine what you went through, and I promise they aren’t going to get away with it.”

Jaster’s voice was firm with reassurance. “But there is no way in haran I am handing you back to them or taking you back to that skanah.”

“So then what are our options?” Deila asked suspiciously.

“That depends on what you want. First and foremost, you should know that we would be more than willing to take all of you in.” Oje says.

Obi-Wan stared at the Mandalorians incredulously, jaw hanging open. “What?”

Joli blinks, eyebrows raising up. “All of us? Just like that?”

“Lek,” Jaster answers, voice confident and secure. “You would be safe here. No one would force you to fight ever again.”

Deila grimaced and tapped her foot against the floor. “I don’t see how that benefits you. Why take a bunch of starving wounded kids into your Empire? What would you gain out of that?”

Khi Dro smiles. “We are Haat Mando’ade, we follow the Resol'nare and its tenets. We are more than an empire, we are a culture. An idea that can be shared among species. Many of us were adopted by others in the Empire, ad’ika. They found us abandoned or hurt by aruetti, and they took us in. We became Mando’ade through Gai bal manda.”

Nield nodded slowly. “I’ve heard stories of such things. If you are willing to take in slaves, why wouldn’t you be willing to take in a bunch of children? But...”

Nield paused and folded his hands together, resting them under his chin thoughtfully. The unspoken question hangs in the air.

Mawat sneers and finishes . “What about Obi-Wan? What would happen to him if we were to do that?”

“All of you are in this,” Jaster repeats. “If he wants to be here, he would be welcome.”

Obi-Wan’s face visibly struggled with shock, confusion, and disbelief. “But I’m a... I was a,”

He couldn’t speak for a moment, mouth working uselessly. “I used to be a Jedi. You have been fighting against Jedi for centuries, why would you just take one in like that?”

Oje sighs. “The same reason we would take in any aruetti. They get fed up with being treated as if they are worthless or wish to escape the restrictions and the hate they get from others. So they come to us, and we take them in. A Jetti is no different than any other Force-sensitive among us. If a Jetti wishes to leave their Order and join us, then we would let them. They just have to truly want to be a Mando'ade.”

Obi-Wan leans back, his mouth in a thin line. “...And what happens if we don’t want to?”

“Well, there are a few options. For the oldest among you, we can hand you over to an orphanage that we trust, or we can take you to a good academy that will train you in skills that you would need.” Oje replies easily.

Obi-Wan twitches at that, and he shifts on the medical cot. “What about the youngest?”

Jaster sighs and glances at Rani with a sympathetic look. “That’s where things get complicated.”

Mawat asked. “Complicated how?”

“It would be better for the younger ones to stay here,” Cerasi explains quietly, understanding quickly. “There is a guarantee that they will be taken care of here. No such guarantee is out there.”

Obi-Wan nods. “The rest of you can go and let the little ones stay here. I can let the Temple decide what happens to me.”

Joli and Nield frown at this but they remain silent, thoughtful.

Deila scowled. “I’m going wherever you are going Obi-Wan, even if it is the Temple.”

Obi-Wan shakes his head. “Deila...”

“Don’t ‘Deila’ me. I’m going where you are going, and that’s final. You need someone to kriffing keep you alive, Obi-Wan,” Deila stamps a foot for emphasis. “I owe you, after all.”

Obi-Wan glares at her. “No, you don’t.”

“Yes, I do!” Deila stamps her foot again, harder. “The only reason I am alive right now is because of you. The only reason a hundred other children are alive is because of you. If I have anyone to repay in this galaxy, it’s the one who told his Jedi Master to kriff off and stayed behind for us in the middle of a kriffing civil war!”

Obi-Wan swallows, his eyes filling with tears. “I couldn’t leave any of you behind...”

The creature nudges against his chest and whimpers. Obi-Wan sniffs and stares at the creature with the faintest smile.

Nield sighs. “So is that what we will do? Separate?”

Rani cried out at that. “No! We are staying together. We promised.”

“Some of us might not want that Rani,” Joli said carefully.

“Why?” Ronnei asked. “Why wouldn’t we want to stick together? After all, we have been through?”

“What if Mawat wants to stay with Rani and, as Deila just said, Deila wants to stay with Obi-Wan?” Nield asked coolly.

Mawat frowned at that, his hand on Rani’s shoulder twitching. “I would be... lonely, Nield.” He admits quietly.

Obi-Wan winces and looks away. Cerasi bites her lip, Mawat had hit the nail on the head. The thought of separating after everything they went through makes her chest ache with sadness. To have struggled against the Elders, against her father for nothing. The promise that her older brother made her give him before he disappeared from her life rose in her mind.

“Promise me, Cerasi, that you’ll find peace. Promise me,” Her brother whispered during those few minutes they had left before her father took him away to that awful munitions factory. The factory where he died. “Momma wanted both of us to have peace, but I’m not going to be able to get out of here. So get out of here, Cerasi, and find peace.”

‘Peace,’ Cerasi thinks bitterly. She had a passing acquaintance with the word, had only a faint idea of what it was supposed to be. ‘Is this how we achieve peace then?’

Cerasi had no answer. She felt helpless and confused. Like the day she met Nield for the first time on that broken road where Melida/Daan's flowers, her namesake, grew in wild scraggly patches. And that day where she finally realized that the Daan they fought against were the same as her. That her brother died for nothing. That her father lied to her face and that he was wrong.

Ronnei shakes her tiny head. “We promised, Rani is right. So if Rani and I should stay here, then you’ll just have to as well!”

“You can’t decide that you are too young.” Nield snaps.

“Nield,” Cerasi warns. “Cut it out.”

Rani looked indignant. “Of course, I can! I’m old enough!”

“Oh, really?” Joli asked. “What is the right thing, then Rani?”

“To stick together like we promised. We all promised that we would stay together after Obi-Wan was almost forced to leave us!” Rani whines.

Nield opens his mouth but shuts it after Deila and Mawat give him combined angry glares.

Cerasi sighs and shrugs. “I don’t think we know what the right choice is.”

Jaster nods. “You don’t have to decide just yet. It will take some time to travel to the nearest friendly spaceport. While we are traveling, you can see how we are, how we act. You can think about what you want. Understand this, at least, adiik. What happens from here on out is what you want. Nothing less. Okay?”

Cerasi nods, and so do the rest of the Young. She gives Obi-Wan’s fingers another squeeze. Something warm was rising in her chest, a warm feeling that she has felt only rarely. This was like that day that they had promised each other that they would stay together.

Where the future felt possible, and peace seemed more than a dream. When Cerasi felt like perhaps there could be more days where there were smiles and laughter. Days where she felt safe and didn’t have to fight anymore.

‘Is this how we will achieve peace?’ She asks again, still unsure, but this time, slightly hopeful.

Chapter Text

Bruck was afraid.

Bruck was afraid of a strange feeling that he had sensed on his home planet when he was no more than three. It had been there deep in the ground, lurking, hating, wanting to eat him alive.

Bruck could remember running through Telos Four’s golden fields, chasing his father, laughing, his arms outstretched in joy. He could remember stopping, freezing, and staring at the muddy dirt under his feet. He could still feel the slimy cold that makes your bones ache and your head pound; he could sense it ooze from the ground and curl onto his feet.

It hated, whatever it was, and it was going to tear him apart.

Bruck had screamed and ran away from it. Later, at night in his father’s arms, holding his newborn baby brother, Bruck asked his father what was wrong with the ground.

His father’s reply was direct and straightforward. “Despite our best efforts, there are still scars from the Sith’s orbital bombardment, long ago. You heard the stories of the Jedi Civil War, of course. The Mandalorian Empire barely got out of that alive, they were genuinely fortunate that their empire didn’t fall. The Sith bombarded us with their fleet’s blaster fire because we were weak. It took us centuries of strength to rebuild, centuries of making sure that we were never that weak again. But never you mind about those scars, focus instead on yourself, Bruck.”

His father patted Bruck’s young shoulder proudly. “You will grow into a strong man one day. You must surround yourself with strong people, and you must tear down those that will make you weak.”

“Others that will make me weak?” Bruck asked, confused. “How so?”

“They will make you look foolish, taunt you, attack you just like the Sith attacked our fair planet. Only when you are strong can you withstand it. Only then can you protect your family.” His father replied.

Bruck hadn’t understood, not really. But he was pretty sure that he got the gist of it. If you were weak, then that feeling will consume you. If you were strong, you were safe.
Bruck was still three when the Jedi Master came and took him to the Jedi Temple. His father’s stories carried in his heart, turning over in his young mind as he climbed those steps for the first time.

‘Strong, I must be strong,’ He whispered to himself at night, wiping his cheeks as the tears fell. ‘They will tear me down if I look weak. I must look for those that will make me weak.’

So when Obi-Wan, another three-year-old from Stewjon, stumbled over Bruck and made him trip in front of the other creche-members, it was absolutely clear to Bruck who was going to try and make him look weak.

And if Bruck was weak, then that sick, cold feeling would rise up again, only this time out of Bruck and not the ground. Somehow he knew it in his bones that it would. Therefore Obi-Wan was dubbed 'Oafy-Wan.'

Bruck did his best, except he never actually made Oafy-Wan look weak. The taunts, the pranks, the jeers, they did nothing against that calm demeanor. And if Bruck was honest to himself, it felt at times like the one that made him disgusting, was himself.

As Bruck turned into an eight-year-old, he observed the friendship that Oafy-Wan had, and he sometimes wondered if his father was correct. When the anger cooled, and he was left alone, he was left with the knowledge that Oafy-Wan was comforted by his friends. That didn’t make Bruck feel good. At first, he thought it was because he found it annoying. Then he thought that it was probably rather lovely to have someone like that.

‘It's just, why aren’t they doing that to me?’ He wondered as he watched them from the corner of his ice-blue eyes.

There were times that Bruck did not feel happy. There were times that he felt... empty. And that empty feeling was just as bad as the slimy one back home.

'Would having friends make it go away?' He asked himself.

Many, many times, he tried to create a friend like the ones Oafy-Wan had. He chose the one person in the creche that Bruck thought was the strongest, Siri Tachi. But Siri Tachi did not want to be his friend at all.

“Your behavior is despicable.” She told him bluntly and coldly several times.

Bruck was confused by this. It didn’t fit into what his father told him.

‘Why am I despicable? I’m strong like her. Why can’t I be her friend?’ Bruck crossed his arms together and frowned.

Perhaps it was because his behavior had made her unhappy with him. Like how it made the Jedi Masters unhappy with him. How it made Creche-master Vant get that disappointed look in her eyes, and her lekkus would droop in sadness.

There was a sharp contrast to the strong boy his father wanted and the strong boy that the Jedi Masters wanted. What would have pleased his father did not satisfy the Jedi Masters. The Jedi Masters also saw a boy that could be strong, but not in the way that his father did. They thought he should learn how to care for others more.

“Alone, you will find yourself, at this path’s end,” Master Yoda had told him thoughtfully after another one of the brawls between Oafy-Wan and Bruck. “Alone, you already are.”

Bruck sniffed and did not reply. The eleven-year-old only bowed his head lower so that he didn’t have to look Master Yoda in the eye. If he didn’t move, then perhaps these tears that fell from his cheeks weren’t real. Those giant green piercing eyes were making him feel unexpectedly ashamed. Like he was ruining this potential that the Jedi Masters saw in him.

‘Father would be proud... He would think that you are acting strong...’ Bruck thought angrily.

‘But is he truly the one that you want to please?’ A different voice asked, one that sounded slightly like Obi-Wan.

‘Oafy-Wan. His name is Oafy-Wan.’ Bruck corrected himself quickly. That was a slip-up thanks to the faint Force bond they had due to their status as creche-members. That was all.

‘Or is it?’ Bruck’s mouth twisted in a grimace, and he sniffed again, disliking how his chest hurt.

Master Yoda sighed and spoke gently. “Alone, you do not have to be, Bruck.”

Bruck glanced up at Master Yoda then with questioning ice-blue eyes.

Master Yoda smiled at him. “Others there are, that would support you. First, support them, you must.”

Aalto was brought to the Temple later that day, a bouncy energetic four-year-old that ran everywhere and climbed on everything. On his third day at the Temple, he toppled into Siri Tachi and made her drop all of her notes onto the Temple floor.

Bruck watched as Siri immediately rounded on the four-year-old, scolding him for making her drop her notes. “Look at them, now they are all out of order! Do you know how long it will take me to fix this?”

Bruck watched as the tears started to fall out of Aalto’s wide emerald eyes, just like how tears fell out of three-year-old Obi-Wan’s eyes when Bruck had shouted at him long ago. Then before he was thinking about it, he stepped quickly over to the young boy’s side and leaned in front of Siri, glaring at her with his ice-blue eyes.

“Your behavior is despicable.” He repeated to her angrily.

Siri stared at him, mouth open in shock. She continued to stare at him, frozen in place as Bruck knelt to scoop up the notes. He paused when Aalto’s tiny hands began to help him, and the boy started to thank him over and over. But Bruck did not stop, and soon Siri’s notes were back in her arms. Bruck steered Aalto away from Siri’s piercing blue eyes and guided the babbling Aalto back to the creche, reminding the boy of the rules.

Ever since that day, little cheerful Aalto and his wide emerald eyes followed Bruck around like a shadow, copying him and his every move. Bruck felt... pleased with this.

He felt a warm fuzzy feeling when Aalto tried to do back flips like Bruck or when the boy chose him during training, hitting him with the lightsaber the same way Bruck did. It felt terrific when Aalto wanted to be his partner and wasn’t doing it because the Jedi Masters wanted him to.

Aalto copied other behaviors as well, though. That included the taunts and jeers. Bruck tried to not be bothered by this, but every time it happened, something stung deep inside of him, telling him that it was wrong.

The day that Bruck turned twelve, Aalto had a surprise for him. Bruck stared at the chunk of a very smooth black mineral in his hands, marveling at how the polished rock reflected the light.

“It’s from your home planet, Telos Four, and it's called Malab,” Aalto told him eagerly. “It's rare nowadays, and that means it's super special! Perfect for you, Bruck!”

Bruck swallowed against the lump in his throat. “How did you...”

“We were touring a museum. They had an exhibit on the Old Republic and its Trials, Triumphs, and Failures. We got a special showing of infl... influent... Erm.”

“Influential.” Bruck softly supplied admiring how warm the stone was in his cold fingers.

“Influential Old Republic Jedi before and during the Mandalorian Wars. I got that after answering an important question correctly,” Aalto grinned. “Did you know that there really was a Jedi Master that stole a bunch of younglings and delivered them to the Mandalorians? His name was Dorjander Kace.”

“Really?” Bruck stared at Aalto, curiosity bubbling in his chest. “Why?”

“He thought the Old Republic was corrupt and that the Jedi shouldn’t be allowing the Republic to use them as soldiers against the Mandalorians. He was unpopular with the other Jedi, they knew the Mandalorians had worked with the Sith, and they wanted to eradicate the Sith. Dojander Kace didn’t do anything until a Jedi informed him that the younglings were in possible danger.” Aalto said.

Aalto’s face fell, and he hung his head, chestnut hair hanging over his emerald eyes.

“What’s wrong?” Bruck asked, frowning at the younger’s boy behavior.

“There was a secret Jedi Covenant at the time, created after the Great Sith War. That Covenant was willing to do anything to stop the rise of more Sith, Bruck. They were so afraid of a possible war. So, when they thought their Padawans were falling to the Dark Side, instead of sending them to mind healers, they killed their own Padawans.” Aalto raised his head, tears pricking at the corners of his eyes.

Bruck hugged the boy tightly, biting his lip against the rise of horror. His hands shook at the thought of Jedi Masters killing their own Padawans, at the anguish, and the betrayal they must have felt. “Oh, Aalto...”

“Dorjander Kace wasn’t alone, you know. Other Jedi helped him. There were other Jedi that were disgusted with what happened and they helped him. They were called the Mandalorian Knights.” Aalto told him, brushing the tears away.

“I suppose that’s part of the reason we are neutral with them,” Bruck mused. “Both of us have done terrible things to the galaxy and each other.”

“What do you mean?” Aalto asked.

“If it wasn’t for the Mandalorians, my home-world would have never been orbitally bombarded by the Sith,” Bruck snarled. Then he sighed. “But the Mandalorians nearly got orbital bombarded by the Jedi.”

Aalto stared at Bruck, his emerald eyes wide. “Well, kriff...”

“Aalto! Don’t let the Masters catch you saying that.” Bruck smiled warmly. “Thank you for the gift. I will treasure it.”

Several days after that event came one of Oafy-Wan and Bruck’s most significant fights. An all-out brawl that resulted in both Initiates on the Temple floor, hitting each other in anger. After they were separated by Master Yoda, both were sent to the Halls of Healing with minor bruises and wounded pride.

Master Qui-Gon was there, looking out of one of the Temple windows, hands folded together. Aalto, having witnessed the whole fight and followed both boys to the Halls of Healing, insulted Oafy-Wan in front of Master Yoda and Master Qui-Gon.

The fight started back up again with verbal insults. Master Yoda, instead of stopping the fight, turned the battle into a duel. Later Bruck would note that Aalto received no scolding from either Jedi Master. But, at the moment, Bruck was too angry to care, too eager to prove himself in front of the Jedi Order's famed maverick.

Yet Oafy-Wan beat Bruck fair and square. And Master Qui-Gon did not choose either of them.

So Bruck was left to sit in the creche, an ice pack on his bruised face, glaring at the younger boy. “Why did you insult him like that? You should not have done that, Aalto, that is not how a Jedi acts!”

“He hurt you!” Aalto defended.

“I antagonized him; I started it by insulting him, of course, he hurt me. That’s the point of a fight!” Bruck sneered.

“So then it is okay for a Jedi to act like that,” Aalto said.

“What, no, didn’t you just hear me-” Bruck started again.

“You wish to be a Jedi really badly, Bruck, I can feel it! So it must be okay since you did it. You always do things like that...” Aalto trailed off at the look on Bruck’s bruised face. “What?”

Bruck sighed and pinched his nose. “No... No, it’s not,” He said harshly. "No, it is not okay that I am doing that.”

“Then prove it to Aalto.” Siri’s voice came in from behind.

Bruck glanced at Siri, who was crouched in one of her corners, reading. Her blue eyes were narrowed at the two. “If you want him to not copy the example you lay out, give him a better example to follow.”

Bruck took in a deep, deep breath, let it out, and nodded sadly. Then he slowly stood up and went to Creche-master Vant. He told her about the fight that he started and how he had taunted Obi-Wan. Aalto, who followed him silently, unhappily muttered about his insult.

Aalto and Bruck both got meditation and a scolding. Obi-Wan was sent to the Agri-Corps on Bandomeer. Things moved on in the galaxy.

But from that day onward, Bruck started to carry Aalto’s gift along with him to classes, to training and meals.He kept the warm stone nearby to chase away the emptiness, and when Obi-Wan came back to the Temple as Master Qui-Gon’s Padawan, he really tried not to give in to the urge to prove himself.

Imagine Bruck’s shock when he felt the sick, cold feeling from Obi-Wan. Somehow something crucial changed in both Master Qui-Gon and Padawan Obi-Wan on that mission.

Something that gave Bruck pause.

He informed Siri of this development, phrasing the words just so. As predicted, Siri got curious and started to talk to Obi-Wan every time he got to spend time at the creche. Unfortunately, ‘talking’ for Siri meant to debate. And more often than not, Bruck got pulled into these debates to see if he felt the slimy feeling from Obi-Wan.

Over the course of the year Obi-Wan spent as Master Qui-Gon’s Padawan, that odd feeling grew and diminished, but never went away. It lingered, and Bruck grew ever more suspicious.

Then Obi-Wan disappeared, and Master Qui-Gon returned without him, the sick, cold feeling more robust than ever before.

Bruck did not buy the ‘Obi-Wan left the Jedi Order’ at all. Not when he knew just how determined that boy could be. Not when he had been sensing that feeling every time Obi-Wan came to visit the Temple.

For nearly two months, Bruck wavered in a limbo state, unsure if he really should act. But after seeing the way that Obi-Wan’s friends started to break down and after they were told that the Mandalorian kriffing Empire was near the planet of Melida/Daan, Bruck couldn’t stand aside from it any longer.

Aalto did not believe him. “You must be wrong, Bruck. There is no way..., I mean, we both know that the feeling you feel from your home planet is from the Sith. But... Master Qui-Gon is a Jedi Master. You can’t possibly be sensing anything bad from him.”

“Yes, I could,” Bruck argued. “Master Qui-Gon has been acting oddly throughout this whole year, and now, Obi-Wan is gone. And the Mandalorians are near where he was seen last, what are we supposed to think about that?”

“What are you going to do about it?” Aalto asked.

“What I should have done the first time I felt this,” Bruck answered.

So that is how Bruck ended up sitting alone on the cold hard marble floor in the middle of the Jedi Archives. He was surrounded by soft darkness, it is the middle of the night, and there is no one else here. Not even Temple Guards, they are lingering near the creches, concerned for the troubled younglings.

‘Can they sense it too,’ He wondered. ‘This odd sick feeling?’

This slippery feeling that chills the air and makes the stomach turn in disgust.

Bruck shivers and huddles closer to himself. ‘Just a little longer,’ He tells himself. ‘Just a little longer before Master Qui-Gon should show up. Then we can discover what’s going on.’

He had timed it, had patiently observed the traces of the feeling until he could pinpoint the source which was here. Master Qui-Gon came here every night and left behind traces this feeling. The training lightsaber he had stolen from the dueling rooms lies at his side, a cold presence that reminds him of how much trouble he’s in if he gets caught. But he has to do this.

For the sake of his ragged sanity, for his fellow creche-members. For... Obi-Wan.

Bruck sighs and rubs his pale hands together. He doesn’t like the way that they tremble. But he can hardly help himself, the cold feeling has been getting stronger. This strange cold feeling that lurks at the edge of his brain and curls deep in his heart.

“You are going to be in so much kriffing trouble.” Siri’s voice hissed out of the soft darkness.

“What are you doing here?” Bruck asked, annoyed.

“Concealing you and me with the Force so that we don’t get caught, were you honestly banking on him being so distracted as to not catch you?” Siri settles beside him, a hand on his shoulder.

“...Aalto told you.” Bruck sighs.

“He’s hurt and angry that you have been ignoring him. Which you have been,” Siri adds. “This suspicion of yours is consuming you.”

“And if I’m right, then something bad has happened to Obi-Wan, and Master Qui-Gon allowed it. That’s not something that we can or should allow” Bruck snarls. “Once I discover what’s going on, I’m going to look for him.”

Siri stares at him with blue eyes, her gaze filled with confusion and slight panic. “You can’t be suggesting that one of our Jedi Masters allowed one of us to get hurt, Bruck. And you can’t leave the Temple, you’ll get thrown out for sure!”

“So where is Obi-Wan, huh? He just left the Order? Come on, even you know that was kriffing bantha poodoo. Now hush, he’s coming.” Bruck snaps.

Silence fell onto the Jedi Archive, and the two Initiates huddle on the cold marble floor. Quiet footsteps echo as someone else moves in the dark. But no comforting Jedi Master presence arrives, rather the slimy feeling rises and wraps itself around Bruck’s head, making him want to gag and choke.

Bruck breathes in a cold breath as he feels Siri’s Force cloak settle around them. He shifts slightly, curling an arm around her to press her closer into the shadow as they watch Master Qui-Gon appear carrying something in his arms.

Furtive and nervous-looking, Master Qui-Gon sneaks towards the forbidden Jedi catacombs, carefully trying to shrink into the shadows. His pale, bearded face turns towards where Bruck and Siri are sitting, and his shining pale blue eyes narrow.

Siri inhales, and Bruck has to cover his mouth to stop from making a noise.

Then Master Qui-Gon quickly stuffs the object behind a bookcase and straightens, folding his hands underneath his cloak.

“Initiate Chun,” He said in his deep monotone voice, face entirely blank. “Come here, please.”

<><><>

Siri grabs the sleeve of Bruck’s tunic, tugging on it harshly. ‘No, don’t. Don’t you kriffing dare-’ She tries to say, but her mouth will not form the words. A lump is blocking her throat.

Bruck turns to her with those ice-blue eyes, and then he gives a little half-smile. He doesn’t say anything at all, not a word, but the meaning is clear. ‘Get what he was trying to hide. Figure out what is going on.’

Siri bites her lip, and her hands are trembling. She can’t force any words out, no matter how hard she tries. Bruck reaches into his Temple Initiate tunic and draws something out. In one quick motion, he takes her shaking hands into a firm grip and squeezes. Something passes from his grip into hers, something that feels like a rock.

Then he stands, picks up the lightsaber, and folds it into his tunic. He walks stiffly towards Master Qui-Gon. Siri watches him as he goes over to Master Qui-Gon. Master Qui-Gon leans down and begins talking to Bruck for a few moments. Bruck shakes his head once.

Then Master Qui-Gon places a hand on Bruck’s shoulder and leads him away, out of the Jedi Archives.

Siri lets out an exhale, gripping the rock so hard. Bruck was going to be okay, why was she starting to feel the edge of panic, no, fear. This was fear she was feeling, and it didn’t make sense. Master Qui-Gon was a Jedi Master, he wouldn’t hurt Bruck, he wouldn’t dare.

"Fear leads to anger, anger leads to hate, and hate," Siri trembles. "Hate leads to the Dark Side."

‘So then why are you scared?’ A voice in her mind asked.

Siri didn't know. She sat there clutching the rock for a while but then she tucks it into her tunic and stood up once she was sure that Master Qui-Gon and Bruck were gone.

She scrambled out of her hiding spot and ran over to the bookcase. She dragged the item out, soft, made of cloth, and then once it is in her sight, she can’t help but give a breathy gasp of strained laughter.

One of Obi-Wan’s old Initiate tunics lay in her trembling hands. In fact, it was the one he wore when he traveled to Bandomeer.

‘Why would Master Qui-Gon hide this? What’s wrong with it?’ Siri wondered.

She follows what her gut tells her to do and takes the tunic to Creche-master Vant. Creche-master Vant is skeptical but alerts one of the Padawans to, take the tunic to their Master and figure out what might be wrong with it.

Creche-master Vant waits three hours before she gets concerned enough to send a Temple guard to look for Bruck and Master Qui-Gon. When neither can be found, the Temple goes on full alert.

It takes three days for Master Qui-Gon to return, and when he does, Bruck is nowhere to be seen. Obviously, Master Yoda, Master Windu, and the other members of the Jedi Council call him to an emergency meeting.

Siri, upon hearing this information, breaks down and tells the others everything. Aalto cried at the thought that Bruck was now also in danger. Bant hangs her head in shame. Garen starts to interrogate Siri. Reeft paces around the group. Yet Quinlan listens without saying a word or moving a muscle.

When Siri finishes, Quinlan waits until he is confident that they are alone, and then he takes out a security footage viewing device.

"Quinlan Vos! You didn't... You aren't supposed to have that device, only the Padawans are-!" Siri scolds.

Quinlan dismisses her with a gloved hand wave and slices his way into the security footage, mouth in a tight line. Heart in her throat, Siri watches with her creche-members, frightened for the two missing members who’s Force bonds were ragged and faint.

They leaned in as Master Windu sits down in the plush red Jedi Council chair, takes a few deep breaths, and looks around the room. Master Yoda sits with an uncustomary frown on his weathered and old green face, long ears drooping slightly. He wasn’t the only one displeased in the room.

Master Plo Koon has steepled his hands and is staring at Master Qui-Gon in a silent challenge. He might have been old friends with Master Qui-Gon, but no one could ignore this. Master Depa Billaba, Master Eeth Koth, and Master Yarael Poof’s gazes were no less passive-aggressive, there was a troubled air in the council’s room.

Because of Master Yaddle and Master Saesee Tiin’s absence, two other Jedi Masters had temporarily taken their places.

Master Dooku sat in Master Yaddle’s place, his face wearing an open frown. Next to Master Dooku sat Master Ky Narec, who was in a hoverchair thanks to the blaster shot that crippled him. His expression was also creased with a darker, angrier version of that frown, his face tattoos wrinkling.

The rest of the council wore blank faces and simply watched Master Qui-Gon shift from foot to foot.

Siri frowned as she watched Master Windu’s mouth, move silently. “What’s wrong with the sound, Quinlan?”

Quinlan stared at the security device’s data incredulously. “Wha-, someone else is slicing into the Jedi Archives!”

Garen turned to look at Quinlan, raising an eyebrow. “What? Who? Who would do that?”

The answer was provided when the sound returned in a blast of static, and Master Windu’s eyebrows rose at the beeping light on the Jedi Council’s comm.

“What the kriff?” Master Windu asks gruffly.

All of Obi-Wan’s creche-member’s eyebrows rose up at the swear.

“Did, did Master Windu just?” Aalto nearly gave out a strained giggle but was hushed by the others.

Master Fitso turned his head ever so slightly at the beeping light. Now that the sound was back on, the creche-members could hear the annoying noise the beeping light was giving off. 

Master Plo Koon gave a curious hum as he glanced back at Master Qui-Gon. “How strange. It seems as if someone wishes to tell us something. Mace, could you be a dear?”

Master Windu stares at Master Plo Koon for a long moment, blinking. The other council members tilt their heads in interest. The creche-member’s jaws drop open in shock.

“Answer the call?” He repeats flatly. “Right now in the middle of the meeting?"
 

"Don’t be rude now, Mace, go on. I myself am rather intrigued upon this. We all know that the Force works in mysterious ways. Perhaps this is something we need to hear." Master Fitso gives one of his little grins.

Master Dooku’s frown gets deeper. “I would be concerned if Padawan Obi-Wan was interacting with them.”

“Concerned, you would be?” Master Yoda sniffs. “Or listening to gossiping younglings, you have?”

Master Dooku does not say anything more. Master Windu taps the comm device on his chair, accepting the transmission. Master Qui-Gon takes a step back as the holo images of thirteen figures in strange armor appear in front of the council.

Quinlan’s jaw tightens. “Are those...”

“No way,” Reeft breathes. “Those are actually Mandalorians! Real-life Mandalorians!”

Siri watches with apprehension as her gaze sweeps over the thirteen Mandalorians. Her eyes take note of the stiff angry body posture that each one held and how their helmets swivel so that each member of the Jedi Council gets a full-on glare.

Then her eyes settle on the one wearing a cape. This one steps forward and crosses their arms. There is a quiet silence as the Jedi Masters take in the sight. Then they lower their heads in a nod of respect.

“Mand’alor,” Master Yoda sighs. “Long it has been since a Mandalorian called.”

“What?” Garen nearly shrieks. “They’ve called before?”

“Sssh!” Bant snaps.

The Mand’alor snorts. “You mean we’ve managed not to snap at each other’s throats like aak pups for several decades, despite our...” He pauses and says flatly. “Differences.”

Master Yarael Poof’s neck waves slightly. “Taking Force-sensitive children from their parents is not child-stealing, Mand’alor.”

The Mand’alor grunts. “I still fail to see how you couldn’t train the adiik and let them remain in contact with their aliit, Master Jetti. Surely there is enough Jetti in that Temple to help achieve that. Not every Jetti is out battling the Dar’jetti, are they?”

Master Depa Billaba looks at the Mand’alor with pursed lips. “Implying something, Mand’alor?”

“You haven’t been doing your job,” He says bluntly. “That, or you have slackened on your policies far enough for something to happen. The Dar’jetti that tried to assassinate me was a failure on your part. You are the ones that allowed them to attempt it. But this is a whole other situation. I'm sure you all know what the Mando’ade think of Dar’jetti being near any aliit.”

All of the creche-members stare in shock.

Master Yoda’s ears rose up in surprise. “Think a Sith resides here, do you?”

Master Plo Koon leans forward, elbows on his knees. Master Dooku leans back in barely-concealed horror. Master Windu’s mouth thins into a tight line.

Siri gasps. “Did they seriously just, I mean, who does he think-.”

“Haven’t you been paying attention?” Quinlan snarls. “He’s the Mand’alor. He can do almost anything he wants.”

The council watches the Mand’alor intently as he tilts his helmet at Master Yoda.

After a moment, he speaks coldly. “It has happened before, Jetti. Even if it has been centuries, there are still records of what those demagolka of old did to their Jetti adiiks, based on nothing more than suspicion and hate. Have you forgotten so easily the hard lessons that both sides learned in those awful wars?”

Master Eeth Koth growls. “Your side committed atrocities as well, Mand’alor. Have you forgotten the fate of the Cathar?”

“No. Such crimes that our ancestors committed we will forever carry on our shoulders lest we may commit them ourselves. And what of you, Jetti? Don't you recall that one of your Jetti destroyed most of our fleet and nearly disbanded the Mandalorian Empire in revenge?" The Mand'alor asks sharply. "If it weren’t for those Jetti that chose us over you and the Dar’jetti, we wouldn’t have been able to rebuild our empire."

The Mand’alor sniffs. “We Mando’ade haven’t forgotten the lessons the Jetti Zayne Carrick taught us or the dar’manda hut’tuun that he revealed to us.”

The Jedi Council pauses for a moment. Master Qui-Gon shifts once more, uncomfortable.

Master Fitso leans back thoughtfully. “Elaborate, if you can.”

“Jetti have an unusual amount of empathy and, most of the time, wish for a peaceful solution to the conflict. That doesn’t change if they become Cabur’jetti; it just means that they have a cute little Jetti adiik trailing after them, and they are a little warier of others. As they should be in this cruel galaxy.” The Mand'alor replies.

“However,” The Mand’alor glances darkly at Master Qui-Gon. “If some di’kut pushes a Jetti far enough, whether, through torture or other action that causes pain, they could have the potential to turn into a Dar’jetti. And Dar’jetti don’t care what happens to others or to adiik.”

“What are you saying?” Master Qui-Gon asks coolly.

“There are many different ways to train a Jetti adiik, sure. And your Jetti Council will have more knowledge on that than I ever will.” The Mand’alor shrugs dismissively.

The Mand’alor’s next words turn into ice. “But even I can tell something’s wrong when a young Jetti adiik named Obi-Wan on Meldia/Daan chooses to leave their Cabur’jetti behind to protect other defenseless adiik. Defenseless adiik that the osi'yaim cabur refused to protect. Even though there were demagolka that was actively trying to hurt them.”

Bant’s jaw dropped. “What...”

Garen gaped, his mouth opening and closing like a fish.

Reeft shakes his head. “No. No, that’s not... No.”

Quinlan grips the creche’s table with both hands.

Aalto’s eyebrows rose up, his face tightening with unease.

Siri nearly sobs. “No. No, this isn’t... No, Obi-Wan is okay. There isn’t anything to worry about!”

“Hush! They’re talking!” Garen snaps.

Master Qui-Gon’s mouth moved silently as the Mand’alor stares at him icily.

Master Dooku sat up straight instantly. “What?” He looks at Master Qui-Gon with hurt confusion. “You said that Padawan Kenobi chose to leave the...”

The corner of Master Dooku’s eye twitches. Master Ky Narec places a hand on his shoulder.

“‘Technically,’ he didn’t lie,” The Mand’alor growls. “Obi-Wan did make the choice to leave the Jetti Order, but it was under duress. This sleemo told him point blank that if he chose to protect the starving, wounded adiik who were trying to free themselves from a kriffing civil war over the mission, he would no longer be part of the Jetti Order. What do you think Obi-Wan chose?”

Silence spread over the Jedi Council. A deafening silence that made Siri’s stomach curdle. Bant wrung her webbed hands quietly, and Garen sits down on the ground, legs shaking.

Quinlan shakes his head, dreadlocks whipping across the air. “Oh, Obi-Wan. Obi-Wan, no. No!”

Siri’s hands began to tremble. “A Jedi Master wouldn’t do that, no, a Jedi wouldn’t do that!”

Bant stares at her webbed hands, gripping them tightly. “Kriff...”

Reeft covers his mouth in horror. “He’s been there for two months. Two whole months, and he's been fighting without his light-saber!”

“Not what we were told, this is,” Master Yoda says quietly, ears drooping. “Young Obi-Wan’s safety, we ask?”

The Mand’alor sniffs. “He spent two months traumatized, starved, and under immense life-threatening pressure. Obviously, he lashed out once he saw us. I can only imagine what stories he heard of us interacting with ‘Dar’jetti.’”

“Interact and work with the Sith, you do.” Master Yoda counters sharply.

“I’m not sure if the Dathomir Witch Rell would be flattered or insulted that you consider her to be a Dar’jetti. I do know that Mother Talzin would be...,” The Mand’alor tilted his helmet. “Greatly amused.”

Master Windu sighs heavily. “Mother Talzin uses the Dark Side of the Force,” He stresses. “And the Dathomir Witch Rell is barely any better.”

Reeft and Garen glance at each other, eyebrows raised. Bant frowns.

“Mother Talzin is currently working hard to protect the rest of her children, Master Jetti,” The Mand’alor shakes his head scornfully. “She has learned the hard way why no one smart deals with Dar’jetti or slavers and recently has realized that the way they do things isn’t the best. That’s why she’s willing to change things now. But at the end of the day, she protects and cares for them. So, no, we don’t consider her to be a Dar’jetti. A Force-user, that, she is. But not a Dar’jetti, or a Jetti for that matter.”

“As for Rell,” The Mand’alor glances at one of the other Mandalorians. “We have our own problems with each other, but she still cares for her children. She isn’t a Dar’jetti either. The only possible Dar’jetti I see in the room is the one that abandoned Obi-Wan. That abandoned the Meldia/Daan adiik to those demagolka.”

Master Qui-Gon lowers his head and folds his hands underneath his tunic. There is silence among the council members. The bad feeling in Siri’s stomach grows.

"A bold claim to make, Mand'alor." Master Windu says evenly.

“I can say with a fairly certain confidence that if this Master Tahl had been awake, she would have exchanged her life for the lives of the adiik. That’s what you Jetti do, after all. And before any of you mir’shebs say anything about being neutral or having no attachment, there is nothing neutral in a situation where adiik are dying.” The Mand’alor snarls.

“Obi-Wan is going to be staying with us for a bit while you sort yourselves out. If you wish to show that you have some manner of sense, I suggest that you send us his kad. Help us to reassure the boy that he hasn’t actually abandoned the Order. No sense in letting the boy continue to suffer." The Mand'alor suggests. 

"And if we don't?" Master Qui-Gon asks coldly.

"Remember, I could potentially inform the Senate of what I found, just so that the citizens of the Republic are aware of what’s going on in your Temple.” The Mand’alor finishes with another glare at Master Qui-Gon.

“My verd would happily tear you apart if I let them. The only reason that I haven’t let my Mando'ade hunt you down, is the tiny, minuscule chance that this was a colossal mistake on all fronts. But if I find out that you did anything similar to what you’ve just pulled, then I’m going to assume that you are a Dar’jetti, and deserve to be treated like one.” And with that, the Mand’alor ends the transmission.

Master Yoda looks at Master Qui-Gon with a deep sadness and disappointment. Then the gaze hardens into a stone-like firmness. "The light-saber, Qui-Gon?" 

Master Qui-Gon swallows, then he speaks, his head still down. “The light-saber was a training one.”

“You should still have it, Master Qui-Gon. Or is that not the case?” Master Depa Billaba frowns at him.

Master Qui-Gon pauses and then sighs. “...It has been... broken.”

The creche-members reel back in horror. The council members have nearly the same reaction, although theirs is slightly more subdued.

“Broken? How?” Master Dooku’s voice took on a shocked tone. “Qui-Gon... Jinn, you haven’t...”

Master Qui-Gon finally lifts his head to face the council. As he does so, Siri freezes. For just a single moment there it looked like Master Qui-Gon’s eyes had gone from a shining pale blue into a burning yellow-red.

Before Siri or anyone else could do anything, the table, and the device both shatter into pieces, making all of the creche-members scramble backward in shock. Quinlan stares blankly at his hands, which still clutched fragments of the shattered table.

Siri’s legs gave out, and she collapsed onto the ground, shoulders shaking. “Obi-Wan... Oh, no.”

Bant looked stricken. “I should have never been quiet! Bruck felt this, he felt something wrong with Master Qui-Gon! And now... Now he’s missing!”

Aalto’s wide green eyes fill with tears. “Bruck... What happened to Bruck? Where is he?”

Garen breathed in slowly and swallowed. “I don’t know. I don’t even know...”

He shook himself. “The Jedi Masters will find him. They will... They will take care of this! He will be okay, I promise. Bruck will... Bruck will be fine. Just like Obi-Wan will be fine!”

Reeft looks at them all with worry. “What do we do?”

Quinlan throws the pieces of wood away angrily, brushing away the splinters on his tunic. He turns to the other creche-members. “Something. Anything, we have to do kriffing something!”

“Get Obi-Wan a new light-saber,” Siri sniffles, wiping her tears on her sleeve. “We have to go and get Obi-Wan a new light-saber. So that he can have something to help defend himself in case the Mandalorians try anything funny.”

The creche-members stare at her, blinking.

“How?” Quinlan asks. “How the kriff can we do that?”

“Haven’t you called yourself one of the greatest slicers in the Temple?” Garen snaps. “Can’t you slice into the docking rooms and get us a ship?”

“What so you can pilot it, Garen? Take us to Ilum, and then to who knows where?” Reeft sneers. “Don’t be ridiculous.”

“No wait, this can work,” Bant cut in. “We have to at least try. If we don't, who else will?”

Aalto’s voice cuts in. “Aren’t Jedi supposed to help each other?”

Siri jumps in, standing up as straight as she could, jutting out her chin. “Keeping silent and waiting is what the Jedi council did and look at what has happened! No, we are going to do this, and we are going to succeed. Are you with me or not?”

Slowly, each of the creche-members stand and nod. The creche-members were with Siri. Obi-Wan’s creche-members were going to get him a new light-saber no matter what.

This time, instead of just standing by, they were going to take action.

Chapter Text

A Clawdite medic named Bihes worked cheerfully on healing Ronnei’s wounds, dabbing sharp-smelling stinging bacta on her bruises and bandaging her cuts.

There were eight of the Young in this room; all six of the leaders and Rani and Ronnei.

Since there were a hundred children to take care of, house and feed, Jaster had requested to place the Young in separate manageable groups of ten. Of course, it was the children’s choice on who stayed with who, and unsurprisingly, in the end, Young’s leaders ended up together with the two little kids tagging along.

Currently, Bihes was working on Ronnei, having finished with the others. Obi-Wan was surprised by how the Clawdite’s huge yellow eyes shone with delight as they interacted with Ronnei. Rani was right, Bihes did indeed change into different colors upon one’s requests. Bihes would even briefly change their appearance into the image of an entirely new species.

The image was only a mockery since Bihes could only change the color and texture. So far, the Clawdite has turned into what might have supposed to be a Zeltron, something close to looking like a Bith, and a reasonably accurate Zabrak, although the horns were wrong.

Ronnei was won over quickly and had relaxed considerably. She was even giggling, something that hadn’t happened in some time. Now she was calling out different colors for Bihes to change into between fits of giggles.

The older members were still suspicious although Cerasi, and Joli were sneaking curious glances at Bihes. Nield was focused on counting the heads of his friends, making sure that all seven were still in the same room as him. Mawat watched the green medical curtain with a glare, suspicious, and uneasy. Another medic, a human male named Mijr, was behind a curtain, putting a cast onto Rani’s leg.

Obi-Wan sat in on one of the med-bay tables, giving both the green curtain and Bihes, a wary look as he did so. Except for Bant and Healer Vokara Che, he wasn’t on the most friendly terms with healers. Since Obi-Wan was three he kept coming to the Halls of Healing due to mischief with Quinlan and Garen, or because of a fight with Bruck.

‘So since this is a Mandalorian medic, no one can really blame me for being a little nervous. Right?’ Obi-Wan sighed and scratched at his itchy throat. ‘Come on. If you are going to hang out with them for a while, you will have to get used to them, won’t you? For the younger ones' sakes.’

And besides, they have been nothing but friendly and respectful. The two medics even asked Obi-Wan if he was alright with them wearing their armor while they worked. And the two other Mandalorians that Obi-Wan could feel hovering outside of the room radiated concern and worry.

Concern and worry for the Young, for him. Even though he was an ex-Jedi, he was still once their sworn enemy. If a wounded, starved, Sith child was placed in front of Obi-Wan, he wouldn’t try to take care of it, he’d strike it down like he was supposed...

‘Wait,’ He thought. ‘No. Master Qui-Gon said I was supposed to strike the Sith down. What did Master Yoda say again?’

He could remember their moonlit chats with almost perfect clarity, and they had spoken about so many things. There it was, that conversation they had about the Sith... The last part drifted to the forefront of his mind. ‘Your choices are your own. Choose your own answer, you must.’

‘Choose my own answer?’ Obi-Wan swallowed. ‘How can someone like me decide?’

He didn’t have an answer to that question. Obi-Wan didn’t want to face that question because he was afraid of the solution. He was fearful of what he might discover if Obi-Wan pushed against everything that he had been taught. There was every chance that he could Fall. He had already used the Dark Side after all.

Obi-Wan scratched his neck angrily.

He was still wearing that red blanket on his shoulders. Even though it had been hours since someone had obviously given it to him, it felt comforting. Like the way that he thought a Jedi’s robes should feel, soft and warm. The Mandalorian creature had wandered off some time ago. Obi-Wan had thought that he would feel relieved when the creature finally left, but instead, he felt a tiny bit lonely.

Obi-Wan’s throat itched again, fiercer this time. He shivered, scratched his throat, and then quickly gave a reassuring smile at a sour-looking Deila. According to her, he was shuddering and scratching at his throat too much over the past few hours.

Deila was concerned.

Yes, there was a funny cold prickle that felt kind of wrong and strange, and if he stopped to think about it, it almost felt like something smooth, dense, itchy, and humming was wrapped around his throat, but Obi-Wan put it off as something unimportant and unneeded.

There were far more critical things to worry about, like Rani’s leg, the future of the Young, and other worrying things. He scratched his throat once more, wincing slightly as Deila’s look soured even further. The green curtain was pulled back, revealing Mijr, who’s wrinkled face looked permanently grumpy, and a thrilled Rani.

“Mawat! I have a cast now, see? Mihar put on this gooey stuff, and it hardened into a cast, and it looks so amazing!” Rani nearly bounced on the med-bay table; she was so excited.

Mawat’s shoulders released a bit of their tension. “That’s... wonderful, Rani. It does look really great. But ah, I think it’s pronounced Mijr.”

Rani deflated and clapped a hand to her mouth. “Oh, sorry.”

Mijr grunted, his amber eyes glancing at Rani’s thin face. “If it’s easier, you can call me vod, adi’ika.”

“Vod,” Rani rolled the word around in her mouth, brow furrowed in concentration. “Vod. Neat, I like it! Is that part of your name?”

Mijr snorted. “No. It’s just a general informal word to call others by.”

“It can mean sister, brother, or even comrade,” Bihes added, turning a shade of cool purple for Ronnei who smiled at the sight.

Mijr crossed his arms and gave Bihes an unimpressed raised eyebrow.

Bihes tilted their head like a tooka. “What?” Their voice indicated that they knew what Mijr was about to say.

“Navik better not try and kick my shebs if you develop a rash from all that changing, Bihes,” Mijr grunted.

Bihes rolled their yellow eyes and turned back to the child they were working on. “Humph. Navik can deal. I like changing, and he knows it. And I have things to deal with annoyances like rashes from changing. Besides, I’m positive that Bris and her antics will keep my riduur’s hands full. Not to mention our ik’aad. There are reasons we like to have both Striil there.”

Rani’s head tilted curiously. “Striil? What’s that?”

“Those purring six-legged nuisances that jump onto everything and will knock anything it can to the ground,” Mijr explained.

“Oh, you mean that creature that sat on Obi-Wan,” Ronnei said.

Mijr’s head glanced at Obi-Wan. “Did it now?”

Obi-Wan swallowed. He might have been very uncomfortable, but he wasn’t about to forget the manners instilled in him by Creche-master Vant. Almost automatically, he bowed his head and pressed his hands in front of his chest. “We sincerely thank you for your kind hospitality,” Obi-Wan said softly.

Bihes and Mijr blinked at Obi-Wan then quickly glanced at each other.

“Gar're olarom, Jet’ika.” Bihes said warmly, turning a rosy orange.

Ronnei snorted. “Deila! Obi-Wan’s doing the funny bow again.”

Deila frowned. “Yeah, he is...” She crossed her arms and glared at Obi-Wan. “Alright, you kindly fool, what’s making you feel kriffing obligated?”

Obi-Wan shot her an annoyed glare and scratched his throat. “Nothing,” He hissed. “It’s just the polite thing to do, Deila.”

“It’s the manners thing again, isn’t it?” Joli snickered. “Ooh, this is going to be good.”

Obi-Wan sighed and rolled his eyes. “No, it’s not, we are not getting into another friendly argument about manners.”

“How about a friendly argument about you doing moronic things?” Mawat asked far too innocently.

Obi-Wan looked back and forth between his friends and narrowed his eyes. “Nield! These two are trying to distract me with friendly arguments!”

“Oh, really?” Nield glanced over at all of them. His dark blue eyes settled on Obi-Wan’s neck and narrowed slightly. Then he smiled mischievously at his friends. “Distract you from what? Another of your hair-brained ideas?”

“Hey!” Obi-Wan turned to Cerasi and Joli. “Help me.” He demanded, trying his best not to let out the giggles rising in him.

Joli was far too busy smothering his giggles to respond.

“Don’t worry, Obi-Wan,” Cersai smirked. “When you put your mind to something, you usually make sure it gets done.”

“Thank you,” Obi-wan emphasized the word, raising his chin at Nield, a gleeful challenge in his eyes.

“Especially when it’s proving your side to these two.” Joli gasped out between chuckles.

“Yes, thank you-, wha, hey! Joli! No, I don’t! The friendly arguments don’t work at all.” Obi-Wan couldn’t keep the laugh from coming out. Cerasi laughed along with him, and even Deila snorted. Nield turned back to his counting, but Obi-Wan saw the smile on his lips.

“It works when you are about to or is going to something stupid. Like throwing yourself off of buildings.” Deila replied quickly, dark grey eyes egging him on.

“I used the Force to slow my descent, which wasn’t stupid. It was smart,” Obi-Wan harrumphed. “And if I hadn’t done that, Joli wouldn’t have gotten out of that surprise attack with only a black eye.”

Deila shook her head and actually smiled a bit. Then she glanced at the Mandalorians, and the usual scowl came back, dark grey eyes flaring. Obi-Wan turned his head to look at the Mandalorians, flushing with the realization that he forgot they were in the room.

Bihes looked mildly horrified, reptilian skin paling into sheet white, while Mijr was eyeing Obi-Wan with a careful amber eye.

Obi-Wan swallowed and scratched his neck again. “Ahem. Erm...”

“Before we examine you, would you like me to give Jaster his cloak back?” Mijr asked briskly.

Obi-Wan opened his mouth to agree and then halted, blinking. “...His cloak?” His voice came out strained and high-pitched.

Mawat gave a bark of laughter. He quickly clapped his hands over his mouth when Deila and Nield glared at him.

“Sorry.” He mumbled through his hands, his copper eyes dancing with delight.

Obi-Wan felt his face turn a bright red, and he quickly scrambled to give Mijr the red cloak. “My apologies, I, ah, was not aware, I, um... Here you go, I, ah.” He faltered as he handed it over shakily.

Mijr was silent as he took the red cloak, amber eyes hardening once they settled on Obi-Wan’s neck.

“No problem, Jaster has too many of these, you know. I’m certain that old bantha didn’t mind at all,” Mijr replied, his tone light. “Bihes, come with me for a moment.”

Bihes didn’t say anything, they just scooped Ronnei up and placed her near Nield. Then quietly, the two Mandalorians left the room.

Obi-Wan buried his face into what remained of his Jedi tunic, cheeks flushed a bright red. The Mand’alor gave him his cloak. The kriffing Mand’alor, who was supposed to be this intimidating figure of legend, gave Obi-Wan his cloak. Obi-Wan had been wrapped up in the cloak of a man that works with the Sith.

‘He doesn’t act like a man that would work with the Sith.’ His thoughts whisper.

That was true, undoubtedly true. Men that work with the Sith don’t cradle children in their arms. They don't give frightened children shelter and aid, and they don’t offer ex-Jedi safety and help.

‘Or do they?’ Something deep inside of him asked. ‘How much do you really know of the galaxy?’

He sighed. Obi-Wan didn’t want to think about it, but the thought kept popping up until he finally began mulling it over. There was a way that he was raised to view the galaxy. The way that Master Qui-Gon told him to look at the galaxy. But Master Yoda told him to find his own answer. And when he listened to Master Yoda’s advice, he ended up leaving the Jedi Order.

Perhaps Master Qui-Gon was right, and his feelings blinded him.

‘But how could my feelings be blinding me to what was happening?’ Obi-Wan balled his fists. ‘What was happening was wrong. I know it was because I could feel it in the Force. Why couldn’t Master Qui-Gon?’

He stilled as the answer came to him. ‘Perhaps, Master Qui-Gon was the one that was blinded by his feelings.’

Obi-Wan shook his head as his stomach turned at the thought. Then he scratched his neck once more. It was strange that he felt concern from the Mandalorians when they looked at his throat. What’s wrong with his...

It clicked into place at the same moment as he caught Deila eyeing him again, a grimace darkening her face.

‘Oh.’ Obi-Wan self-consciously touched his neck, suddenly connecting the dots.

He had been scratching too much at his neck, and those raw red scratches now marked his neck. And if he continued to scratch at it, he’d start to bleed. He scowled with annoyance, now Cerasi and the others were going to try and cheer him up. They knew what it meant when he started doing things like this. The light-saber he gave up to Master Qui-Gon was either trying to resonate with him, or something had made Master Qui-Gon brush against the ragged shreds of their Force bond.

Thanks to the distance, pain, and Obi-Wan’s desire to ignore the situation, the effects of whatever was happening were slow to come. But surely they were soon going to affect him. Most likely he’d end up screaming tonight...

Something moved out of the corner of his eye.

“Yes, Rani?” Obi-Wan asked Rani, who was waving to get his attention.

Rani grinned with excitement and pointed at her new cast with delight. “Look! Mijr was able to make it have three colors! White, Yellow, and blue!”

“White, yellow, and blue? I would have thought you’d wanted purple or pink, Rani.” Mawat smiled wanly at the young girl.

Rani shook her head, the messy, knotted mop of black hair whipping across her thin dirt-streaked cheeks. “No, I wanted it to match the Cerasi flowers! Remember that patch we found by the lake? It should be blooming soon, and we’ll be able to gather them. I wanted the cast on my broken leg to match those pretty flowers!”

Mawat flinched and glanced at Cerasi cautiously. “I... see.”

Cerasi’s mouth had thinned, but her pale green eyes looked at the young girl kindly. “Rani... We aren’t going to be able to gather the flowers, we... we left them behind. We aren’t going back to Meldia/Daan.”

Rani blinked at the Young, a frown falling over her small face. “...But we promised that we’d take care of those flowers... For Cerasi...”

Cerasi took a deep, deep breath and lowered her head, copper hair hiding her face. She didn’t say anything.

Joli frowned and hugged his knees to his chest. Nield sighed and turned away.

Deila bit her lip. “Rani...”

“We can’t have left those flowers behind!” Rani demanded.

Mawat winched again. “I know Rani... I know.”

Obi-Wan spoke, a hand drifting back towards his throat. “Things change Rani, it's... it's natural. We tried to, we really did. But...”

“But nothing! We promised!” Rani’s lip quivered, and her brown eyes looked pleadingly at the Young. She was on the verge of tears.

Obi-Wan lowered his head and said nothing.

‘We promised all sorts of things. As if by making those promises, we could somehow see a future. But it now looks like none of those promises are coming true.’ He thought bitterly.

‘Just like how you broke Master Qui-Gon’s trust in you when you turned your back on him.’ His thoughts added in nastily. Obi-Wan grimaced.

Deila spoke, her voice strangely flat. “Don’t worry, Rani... We will make a new promise now that we are stuck here. Look.”

Deila slowly stood, walked over to Rani, and tossed a tiny bag onto her lap.

“See?” Deila pointed at the bag with a shaky hand, her face frighteningly blank. “These are the seeds of that Cerasi flower. Lots of them. We just have to plant them somewhere safe for them to grow, and then you can take care of those flowers. Okay?”

Rani pouted. “But then I will have to wait for them to bloom all over again, Deila.” She whined.

“You can’t have everything,” Deila said sharply. “Be thankful that we have this.”

Rani looked sorrowfully at her lap and crossed her arms. Mawat inched over to Rani's side, walking as if he was on glass.

Joli frowned, not reading the situation. “Deila... you can’t give her those seeds, that’s-”

“They are my kriffing seeds! I get to decide what happens to them, and if I want to give them to Rani, that’s my choice!” Deila snarls, whirling on Joli.

Joli flinched back, honey-colored eyes brimming with tears.

“Deila!” Cerasi growls. “Stop it, that’s not how you treat your friends!.”

“It’s my kriffing choice! You don’t get to tell me, no!” Deila stamped her foot to punctuate the statement, dark grey eyes flashing with anger.

Nield snaps. “Deila! Stop!”

Deila breathed heavily and shook her head angrily. “I know! Shut up, I know, I’m stopping.”

Obi-Wan held his hands up placatingly. “They are all you have of your father, Deila...”

He wrung his hand together, unsure of how to help. Deila was throwing a tantrum, she was stressed and this was how she got it out.

'It's better than crying,' Deila had said once. 'And I don't cry. I refuse to cry.'

“I know I... I am stopping.” Deila is gasping now, visibly struggling to stop herself from crying. “I know, I...”

She can’t continue, her face is flushed, and her fists ball up and shake.

Obi-Wan nervously got up and approached her slowly. “It’s okay, Deila. It’s alright, it’s...”

“No,” Deila rasped. “It’s not kriffing okay.”

Obi-Wan winced at the pain and the fear waving off of Deila, it was just as strong as his own, and it hurt. His heart beat against his chest from the pain. Obi-Wan struggled to find the right words, any words at all, to help Deila. Usually, when Deila threw a tantrum, he was the one to calm her down. 

But it wasn’t working this time.

All of a sudden, Oje came into the room, holding something squirming in her arms. Obi-Wan stared at her, blinking in shock. The other Young was surprised as well. Then it hit Obi-Wan, the Mandalorians by the door must have commed Oje when they heard Deila getting upset.

They really were concerned for the Young's well-being, to have the mind-healer, no, Naakla’mirshe, nearby. Obi-Wan blinked and hesitated. It was a funny feeling to sense the genuine desire to help from those you thought were supposed to be your enemies.

“Careful Jet’ika,” Oje said, her voice soothing and sweet. “I know you want to help. But Deila might wish to have some space.”

Obi-Wan automatically moved slightly away from Deila, hand frozen in the air.

Oje knelt down onto the floor, reaching Deila’s eye level but staying out of Deila’s space. Her head-tails waved slightly in the air, and she gazed calmly at Deila. Obi-Wan watched her and then glanced back at his friends. They were staring at Oje, waiting to see what she would do. He sighed and then sat down on the floor as well, hands folded together. He shivered unhappily.

Deila watched Oje warily with huge dark grey eyes, her gasps slowing. But she didn’t back away. They stayed like that for a few moments, silence spreading between them like a shroud. Then the squirming creature in Oje’s arms poked its head out and yelped playfully.

It looked a lot like a miniature Striil, except the golden eyes were bigger, and the teeth were barely more than nubs.

Deila’s eyebrows lifted up in surprise. “What...”

“This is a Striil pup,” Oje said gently. “Would you wish to hold it, De’ika?”

Deila stared at her for a long moment, then at the pup. Slowly, very carefully, Deila reached out and touched the pup’s soft grey fur. The Striil pup licked her hand with its tongue and wagged its tail happily. Deila blinked rapidly, sniffed, and then swallowed hard.

“...I,” Deila managed, then closed her mouth tightly.

“Breathe, Deila, breathe. I’m not going anywhere unless you want me to.” Oje soothed.

Deila swallowed again, gasped, then she took in a deep breath. “...Yes, I,” She paused as Oje waited. “I want to hold it.”

Oje placed the Striil pup in Deila’s arms and smiled at the young girl. Deila continued to breathe deeply as she held the Striil pup. Then the first silver tear fell down her cheek, making a trail against the dirt.

“It’s not kriffing okay,” She murmured into the Striil’s fur. “None of what happened was okay. I’m... not...”

“I know,” Oje agreed. “But now you are safe. I promise. K'atini. It is only pain. You can get through this.”

Deila sniffed, and a few more tears fell. “Joli’s right. Those flower seeds are all I have of my father. That’s why I kept them near me in that bag. But no one knows what happened to my father. Only my bastard of a mother did, and all she gave me were those seeds... And she’s dead, my mother’s dead, she died. And she told me that I owe her my life. I owe that horrible woman who abandoned me...”

Oje remained silent, watching the girl as she spoke. Deila’s lip quivered, and she held the pup closer.

It licked her chin as Deila’s shoulders shook. “Well guess what, now she’s in the Halls of Remembrance where she wanted to be and my father, the one parent that might have given a kriff about me, gets to relax with the knowledge that he made a five-year-old girl happy... That’s... good, isn’t it?”

Oje looked over at Rani and the bag of seeds in her lap. “These flowers are special to you as well, Deila. ”

“They are special for all of us,” Ronnei butted in. “They were the one beautiful thing on our planet. And Cerasi’s named after them.”

Oje tilted her head, head-tails moving against her chest. Then she spoke. “What if we split the seeds between you all and planted them in my garden? Then everyone could enjoy the flowers. And you won’t have to give up something that is so important to you.”

Deila broke down and buried her grimy, scratched face into the pup’s fur. Her soft cries echoed in the med-bay. “I’ve always had to give up things,” Deila sobbed. “Always.”

“Not anymore,” Oje promised. “Now, they will be safe. You will be safe. All of you will.”

Deila kept crying, but she slowly sat down onto the floor, and she kept holding the Striil. Obi-Wan stayed nearby, staring at both of them, heart in his throat. He wasn’t sure how he was supposed to feel about this or what he was supposed to do. So he just sat there and watched it happen, something tightening in his stomach.

"Deila, if you wish, this pup can stay with you.” Oje said when Deila had calmed down slightly.

Deila swallowed and nodded. The Striil pup nudged her chin gently, and Deila stroked its fur, sniffing.

Obi-Wan smiled thinly at Deila, unable to form words. But perhaps words weren’t needed between them. Deila reached out and grasped his fingers, squeezing once. Their familiar gesture made his chest ache, and he had to bite his lip to prevent his own tears from falling.

Rani’s tiny voice came in, breaking the tension. “Can I have a Striil pup too?”

“Rani...” Cerasi groaned.

“Of course,” Oje smiled. “I’m certain they’d be delighted to meet you all. And if any of you wish, you may pick one to have while you stay with us.”

Rani and Ronnei both cheered. Mawat frowned but he didn't say anything. Nield shrugged indifferently, or he was pretending to be indifferent, Obi-Wan wasn't sure. Joli looked uncertainly at Cerasi. Cerasi was wringing her hands again, but she nodded and smiled.

A kernel of warmth tickled against Obi-Wan’s heart. The Striil had helped keep his mind distracted from the painful remains of Master Qui-Gon’s Force bond and from the strange prickling he was sensing.

'Perhaps it would be good for me to have a Striil pup nearby, to help keep the pain away,' Obi-Wan mused. 'Perhaps it would be good for all of us.' 

Chapter Text

The Mandalorian Empire was known for its ability to sustain itself with minimal to no support. So it was no surprise to Joli that the Mandalorians had animals on their flagships. They even had a few colorful enclosures for the Striils, with climbing posts and hiding holes.

Joli peered carefully from behind Cerasi’s shoulders as the Young stood with Oje near one of the enclosure’s entrances. This enclosure was large, comfortable, it had toys for the puppies to play with, and colorful structures for the Striils to climb on.

And there were a lot of Striil puppies. The Striil puppies were the size of smallish tookas with puffy grey fur, huge golden eyes, and high-pitched squeals. Apparently, the puppies hit a growth spurt when they got older, maturing into the different colored coats and smaller brighter eyes.

‘The Striil puppies are so adorable.’ Joli thought despite the fluttering nervousness in his chest.

He looked at the rest of his friends standing behind him. The majority of his friends were watching the Striil puppies with matching expressions of hesitation and caution. Deila looked intrigued as she held the Striil puppy she had been given tightly in her arms. Ronnei was clearly interested, and Rani was excited, despite being in a hover-chair.

Oje turned towards the group, her fangs shining as she grinned warmly. “Alright, ad’ika. Here’s something you should know before entering. The Striil that live on Manda’yaim survives by creating a pack. They form special bonds with their respective pack members, and together, protect each other.”

“From what?” Cerasi asked, staring at the Striils with a raised eyebrow. “They look rather strong.”

Obi-Wan looked at Oje with wide eyes. “The stories I heard spoke of enormous creatures with tusks the size of trees. Do they really exist on your home planet?”

Joli’s eyebrows reached all the way to his hairline at the thought of such a humongous creature.

Oje laughed, a bright twinkling laugh. “Once, long, long ago. The proud and mighty Mythosaurs that we used to hunt down, and later on, ride. Ah, how that must have looked. Only their skeletons are left, but we are lucky that we have quite a few back on Manda’yaim.”

“You don’t have one of them here?” Deila asked, one hand petting the Striil pup in her arms. “Why? Wouldn’t that be something you would want to keep near?”

Oje laughed again, shaking her head. “They would not fit in our flagships, cyar'ika. And that’s if we could dig them out from where they are half-buried.”

“However,” Oje gestured an orange hand at a nearby Mandalorian sitting inside the enclosure, pointing out the marking on their grey armor. A large black skull with tusks adorned the grey chest plate of the Mandalorian. “The Mythosaur lives on in the form of legend and symbol. Those of us that wear the Mythosaur on our beskar'gam carry its strength in our kar’ta.”

“What do those words mean?” Cersai asked quietly.

“Kar’ta means heart. Beskar’gam means iron skin or iron carapace. It is a symbol, a visual symbol that you are a Mando’ade. Nearly anyone in the galaxy that sees this armor knows who we are, what we represent. With this armor, we are bound together regardless of our species or our culture.” Oje stated the words proudly.

Nield frowned. “The armor doesn’t look the same on everyone.”

“It doesn’t have to, a Mando’ade is free to individualize it as they wish with sigils, colors, and glyphs. Wearing a beskar’gam is part of the Resol’nare. It also carries a part of their manda or their soul, inside. As each individual’s soul is unique; therefore, the beskar’gam is unique. Anyone in the galaxy can don the beskar’gam and adhere to the Resol’nare. Anyone.” Oje finished with a firm nod.

Obi-Wan looked down at his worn shoes for a moment, brow wrinkled in thought. “If the Striils are meant to hunt, then why are they so good at comforting?”

“Because they can only hunt successfully if they all are in shape. Traat'aliit gar besbe'trayc,” Oje said. “If one is hurt, another will hunt. One is suffering, another will try to help ease the burden. There will come a time that the pack is threatened. When that time comes, they must be ready to defend their yaim, their aliit.”

Joli glanced at Obi-Wan, noticing how Obi-Wan’s strained face softened as he looked at the Striil puppies playing. The bubbling knot of tension in Joli’s stomach relaxed slightly at the sight.

Oje continued. “The Striil here on the flagships function almost the same way, except instead of creating that special bond with another Striil, they create one with a Mando’ade. Those that do not have a bond, such as the puppies, will instinctively want to interact with you to see if you might be a match. And all Striil can sense if you are unhappy. In other words, be careful, they can be rather rambunctious.”

Deila looked at the puppy in her arms, raising an eyebrow at it. “Mine’s really calm.”

“It can sense your emotions. It is trying to help. Perhaps once you feel better, it will become playful.” Oje explained gently.

Deila stared at the puppy, dark grey eyes meeting huge golden ones. The puppy nudged its nose along her chin. Deila reached up and stroked her fingers through its grey fur, the tiniest smile hinting at the corners of her mouth.

Obi-Wan observed the two, blue green-grey eyes brightening at the sight of the smile. Joli felt the tension leak out faster, and his shoulders relaxed.

Nield frowned and turned to Rani, eyeing her cast with a critical gaze. “You aren’t going in there.”

Rani instantly pouted, crossing her arms. “I want to! Mawat, tell him that I want to.”

Mawat glared at Nield, his arms also crossing in front of his chest.

Nield met Mawat’s glare with one of his own, lifting up his chin. “No,” Nield repeated firmly. “If the puppies are really that energetic, they will damage her cast. And that will hurt her leg further. Kriff Mawat, you’re the closest thing we got to a doctor, you should know this.”

Mawat drew himself up, copper eyes flashing with annoyance. “I can keep them off of her; it will be fine, Nield.”

Joli winced as he watched his friends prepare to fight on the issue. But before the fight could escalate, one of the Mandalorians slowly approached with one of the puppies in their arms.

Joli shuffled even closer to Cerasi at the sight of the massive Togorian with golden armor. The Mandalorians were really good at looking intimidating when they wanted to. The Mandalorian Togorian tilted their helmet at Oje and the Young, tail moving slowly. “Su cuy’gar ba’buir.”

The Young blinked at the Togorian, eyes flicking from the Togorian to the tiny puppy in their arms. Joli glanced at Cerasi, noticing the curiosity flickering in her pale green eyes.

Oje smiled at the Mandalorian, her dark eyes sparkling. “Su cuy'gar bu'ad. Ah, vore entye Voyd, this will help.”

Oje reached out and took the puppy from Voyd, carefully showing it to Rani. “You can play with this one, ad’ika. Voyd will help it stay calm for you.”

Rani brightened, eagerly reaching out for the puppy. Mawat stiffened when she touched it, but he made no movements, just watched with narrowed copper eyes. Rani held the puppy on her lap, grinning as wide as the galaxy. Mawat slowly edged nearer to Rani, reaching a hand out to rest on her shoulder.

Rani’s large brown eyes twinkled with delight as the puppy batted a paw softly against her cheek. Mawat ever so slightly relaxed after a moment and withdrew his hand. Obi-Wan’s face actually broke out into a small smile. Then he turned to face the Togorian and Oje, bowing his head and pressing his hands in front of his chest.

“We sincerely thank you for letting us visit the puppies.” Obi-Wan said softly.

Oje tilted her head as he did so, dark eyes gazing at the boy. But then she smiled kindly at Obi-Wan, nodding.

Joli let out a stifled giggle at the sight of Obi-Wan's funny bow.

“Gar're olarom, Jet’ika.” Voyd rumbled, settling down on the floor.

Voyd stayed out of Rani’s and Mawat’s space, their paw-like hands displayed out in the open. The Striil puppy kept one ear swiveled towards Voyd as it sat on Rani’s lap, tail swishing back and forth.

Ronnei looked with growing jealousy, lip protruding out in a small pout. She faced Nield and Cerasi, hazel eyes pleading. Cerasi glanced at Nield questioningly.

Nield hesitated, then glanced at Oje. “Will it really be safe for us to go in there?”

“Voyd will manage to keep an eye on things,” Oje told them, head-tails curling. “They help train the Striils on their off time.”

Nield turned to Obi-Wan, looking for his opinion. Obi-Wan paused in thought before briefly nodding. “It will be okay, Nield.”

Nield hesitated again, but at last, he sighed and gestured at Cerasi. “Go on with any that might want to go in. I’m staying out here.”

Rani turned to Mawat with a grin. “Are you going in there, Mawat?”

Mawat flinched, grimacing briefly before forcing a smile on his face. “I... uh, um, maybe?”

“You do not have to if you do not want to,” Oje said immediately. “This is only if you want it.”

“I want to see Mawat playing with the puppies.” Rani chirped.

“I’m certain you do,” Obi-Wan said carefully. “But Oje wants to know if Mawat wants to.”

Mawat paused, glancing between Rani’s eager small face, Obi-Wan, and Nield. Then he looked directly at Obi-Wan, opening his mouth and closing it again.

Joli understood the conflict warring on Mawat’s face. He frowned and looked away, scuffing his feet on the floor. ‘Choosing things isn’t easy,’ Joli sighed internally. ‘It should be, but it’s not. But Obi-Wan makes choosing things look easy.’

The examples flooded to the forefront of Joli’s mind; Throwing yourself off a building so that you can save the ten-year-old boy caught in a surprise attack. Choosing to go against Qui-Gon’s orders, multiple times, to help out the Young. Deciding to abandon everything that you have worked for, the very cause that you were raised to uphold, to protect your friends.

Although, in that last choice, Joli had helped, however minuscule. Joli would never forget how he first met Master Qui-gon, the cold shiver that had trickled down his back as he gazed up at the tall thin figure gripping the cool green lightsaber. Those piercing pale blue eyes that looked upon you with such indifference...

In direct contrast, Obi-Wan had been a caring individual who was willing to help Joli. Even when Joli said things that were hurtful and mean, Obi-Wan had stuck at his side. And when Master Qui-Gon tried to make Obi-Wan leave, Joli couldn’t just let Obi-Wan go without letting him know what he was to them. It would take a lot for Joli to forget how Obi-Wan’s blue green-grey eyes turned from mournful to determined after he had told Obi-Wan how much Obi-Wan meant to the Young.

The image was burned into his head, Obi-Wan’s determined face, with a bruised cheek and tears pricking the corners of those shining eyes. The moment that Obi-Wan decided to stay with the Young and leave the Jedi Order.

‘It looked easy, but it wasn’t. That choice hurt Obi-Wan, despite everything.’ Joli sighed.

Those same blue green-grey eyes now shone gently at Mawat as Obi-Wan took a deep breath. He went over to Mawat and very gently placed his hand onto Mawat’s elbow. “...They aren’t out to hurt us. She will be fine.”

Mawat held Obi-Wan’s gaze for a few moments, copper eyes wide and suprised. “...You aren’t afraid?”

Obi-Wan hesitated, then his shoulders slumped. “They aren’t out to hurt us, Mawat. I know that now. They’re helping us, and this will be good for us, I can feel it. It’s going to be alright.”

The words had an effect on Mawat, he sighed, nodded, and straightened his spine.

“Look out for her?” He asked Nield.

Nield walked over to where Rani was and stood by her side, hands folded across his chest. Wordlessly Mawat nodded again and looked at the others. “Anyone else coming?”

Cerasi moved forward. “I’m with you.”

Ronnei nearly bounced up off the ground. “I’m coming! I’m coming!”

Deila paused, holding the puppy closer, looking indecisive. “Should I leave Fuse out here?”

Nield looked at Deila with raised eyebrows. “Fuse?” He repeated. “As in the thing that ignites a bomb?”

Deila scowled as Joli let out a bark of laughter. “You named it! You kriffing named the Striil puppy.”

Cerasi shot Deila an incredulous look. Joli laughed. The rest of the Young blinked, surprised. Deila’s scowl darkened as Joli’s laughter stifled into giggles. But she stood straight, and she held the small Striil close to her face.

“Oje said I got to keep this Striil puppy,” She growled at the others. “So, yeah, I kriffing named it Fuse, because it’s mine.”

“Iisa,” Oje said, looking thoughtful. “Interesting name choice, ad’ika.”

Deila blinked at Oje. “That, that sounds beautiful, what does it mean?”

“That is the Mando'a word for fuse,” Oje shrugged and smiled. “The puppy seems to enjoy being with you so far. It should stay nearby, but even if it doesn’t, it will return once you leave the enclosure.

Deila looked down at the Striil puppy and smiled softly.

“Iisa,” She said, rolling the word on her tongue. “Yes, I like that name. Your name is Iisa, okay?”

Iisa licked Deila’s chin with its raspy tongue, tail wagging cheerfully.

Deila grinned, actually grinned, and looked at Mawat. “Iisa and I are coming along.”

Obi-Wan stepped to Mawat’s side and smiled at Deila. “How could I miss this?”

Joli paused for just a moment then slowly nodded his head. “Me too. I'm coming in there.”

<><><>

Mawat’s lips twitched as he tried his absolute hardest not to laugh. Ronnei was giggling hard enough for her small face to have gone red. And Joli was nearly howling with laughter.

Obi-Wan was trying to send them a dark glare, but he was failing horribly. “This isn’t funny,” He half-heartedly grumbled, almost chuckling. “You look just as ridiculous. Both of you.”

Mawat snorted. “Aww, you’re just embarrassed from all of the attention.”

Obi-Wan’s eyebrow twitched as he tried once more to send Mawat a look. Yet it was rather hard to look annoyed when Striil puppies were crawling all over you.

Who knew that Striil puppies were the perfect size to jump around on your shoulders and tug on your hair with nubs that could barely be called teeth?

Obi-Wan looked ridiculous with several Striil puppies crawling over him, and one had even licked his cheek. Mawat held in a chuckle and tried not to squirm. Striil puppies were crawling over him as well, and he was trying not to laugh. The Mandalorians were, of course, laughing uproariously at the sight.

Strangely enough, the laughter did not set Mawat on edge like he thought it would.

Rani was absolutely enjoying how Mawat was struggling to hold in his laughter, giggling madly herself. Mawat smiled in her direction as another burst of giggles rang out.
Mawat was, surprisingly, losing in the battle to keep himself from laughing. He bit his tongue to hold in the bubbling laughter as he felt the fluffy pup’s tiny blunt claws run over his skin, it’s small, high-pitched yips making his face break out in a smile. It tickled most delightfully.

“You, oof, are getting swarmed just as bad as me, and, Deila stop laughing, and I, urgh, Nield help!” Obi-wan cried out, unable to keep the growing smile off his face.

Nield snorted and shook his head, staying where he was, next to Rani. “I think you’re just fine.”

“Traitor!” Obi-Wan shouted, no real menace behind the word. “Joli, help me!”

Joli was lying on his back, snorting, arms wrapped around one of the puppies on his chest, absolutely no help at all.

Obi-Wan glanced helplessly at Cerasi. “Cerasi?”

Cerasi had somehow avoided the chaos and was quietly sitting on the floor, gently petting one sleepy puppy on her lap. She shook her head, pale green eyes twinkling. Deila sat near her, laughing. She beamed at Obi-Wan with jolly dark grey eyes, shoulders shaking with mirth.

“There is no kriffing way that I’m going to stop them from cheering you up, Obi-Wan.” She said playfully, grinning widely, her dirty face glowing.

Iisa had not moved once from her side, it now sat on her knees as Deila combed its soft grey fur with her fingers.

Ronnei was chasing the puppies, giggling as they chased her in turn. Rani was no longer watching Mawat, happily occupied with the Striil pup on her lap. Then Rani laughed, a real bright laugh as the puppy licked her nose. Nield was equally failing to keep a grin off of his face.

There was joy in the air, and it was contagious.

Then one of the puppies scrambled on top of Mawat’s head and yipped cheerfully. Mawat glanced up at the creature who cocked its head at him with delight. Huge golden eyes blinked down at him, tongue lolling around.

Mawat raised an eyebrow at it, copper eyes narrowing. “Oi! Get off of my head, you kriffing rascal.”

The Striil pup yipped again and then began to gleefully tug at Mawat’s whitish blond hair. Mawat rolled his eyes at the puppy, completely ignoring Cerasi’s quiet snorts. Then Rani laughed again, and Mawat tried to glance at her. But the quick movement unbalanced the creature, and it landed flat on Mawat’s face. It scrambled back on top of his head and crouched down, choosing to remain there.

Mawat blinked raising an eyebrow at the puppy. "Really?"

Obi-Wan’s blue green-grey eyes widened. Then he let out a laugh. It was a small laugh, but it was a laugh. Obi-Wan hadn’t laughed since Master Qui-Gon left. Mawat had forgotten how sweetly his laugh could sound. Mawat tried to come up with some sort of quip, but the laughter that had been building up inside of him spilled out, and he laughed instead.

Deila joined in, Nield followed soon after, and it spread. The Young all laughed together, enjoying the wonderful moment, a moment where they could just laugh.

<><><>

Iisa sat in Deila’s arms, tail wagging as Deila beamed at it, her heart feeling as light as a cloud for the first time in months. She had felt this happy twice in her short life, when Obi-Wan became her friend, and when that friendship was strengthened by his choice to stay.

They had only been friends for little more than three months, it did not hold a candle to the years that Obi-Wan spent with his creche. But no matter what, Deila and now Iisa were staying with the young Force-sensitive boy who had knitted them together over one month they spent getting to know each other, and the two months that they spent fighting for the choice they made.

The boy that helped them make the promise that they held close in their hearts.

Somehow they extracted Obi-Wan and Mawat from the Striil puppies. Both boys had a Striil puppy that clung onto them tightly and refused to let go. There was one that was still on Mawat’s head, and one sitting on Obi-Wan’s shoulders.

Deila couldn’t help from snorting again when Joli tried to leave the enclosure, and the Striil puppy that he had held to his chest jumped up and sat on top of his chest, using its claws to stick onto his torn shirt. The puppy that Cerasi snuggled with was following her every move and sticking to her ankles like glue. Ronnei was happily smiling as she showed Rani the puppy that was riding on her back.

Nield had stayed near Deila for a moment or two, trying to look ambivalent. But anyone would be able to see the lingering doubt in his dark blue eyes as he watched the rest of the Young and their puppies. Then he wandered off, heading to a corner of the enclosure with an odd look on his face.

Deila sighed and rolled her eyes, annoyed at how Nield was trying to be the leader of the Young. Even though it was possible that they no longer needed a leader.

“Hmm, it seems they are determined to stick with us,” Cerasi noted as she looked at the puppy at her ankles curiously. “Ah, well, it doesn’t seem as if it could hurt.”

Rani grinned at Mawat. “You’ve got one on your head.”

Mawat sighed dramatically. “Yes, I do. And you got one on your lap.”

Rani’s small face creased. “I can’t come up with a name for it. How did Deila come up with one so fast?”

Deila’s dirty, scratched face flushed as she turned away from Rani’s questioning large brown eyes. “I like bombs, I’m good at making them if Iisa’s mine then it would make sense to name it after a part of a bomb. Oje just helped make the name sound pretty.”

Mawat shook his head at Rani. “I’ll help you figure out a name for it, don’t you worry.”

"You’re the best, Mawat!” Rani cheered.

Mawat's rolled his copper eyes and ruffled Rani's messy black hair.

Obi-Wan smiled at the Striil puppy on his shoulder. He reached a hand to the Striil puppy on his shoulder and touched its forehead. The Striil puppy licked it with a rough tongue. Obi-Wan chuckled.

Then his gaze turned towards Nield. “What’s Nield doing over there?”

“Dunno. He just wandered over there after Mawat came back and hasn’t moved,” Deila shrugged helplessly. “He might be sulking, which in that case, I should stay far away, so there isn’t a fight.”

Obi-Wan’s brow furrowed in frustration. He and Cerasi shared an exasperated glance.

“Oh, kriff, Nield...” He sighed.

Cerasi shook her head, straightened her shoulders, and walked over to Nield, Obi-Wan, and Deila trailing after her.

Nield was kneeling on the floor, his back turned toward them. Cerasi opened her mouth to speak, but Obi-Wan tugged on her sleeve.

“Wait,” He whispered. “Nield’s doing something.”

Deila leaned to the side, frowning curiously, and then she spotted it. There was a slightly bigger, older Striil lying on the floor, gazing at Nield with large golden eyes that were dull and lifeless. And there was a nasty looking wound on its shoulder.

Deila inhaled sharply and held Iisa closer. Obi-Wan flinched at the sight of the wound, and Cerasi’s pale green eyes grew wide with sympathy. Nield had kneeled a few feet away from the older Striil pup, dark blue eyes staring. They were observing each other.

Deila turned at the sound of footsteps and looked at Oje standing behind a few feet away.

“... What’s wrong with...” Deila could not finish the words, unexpectedly her throat clenched up, and tears threatened to once more spill from her eyes.

Oje’s shoulders drooped at the sight of Nield and the Striil, and she shook her head mournfully, head-tails going limp. “...Cuyan’s partner... is no longer- they are not,” She paused, swallowed, and took a breath. “Cuyan’s partner, Kon, who was a bu’ad of mine, is dead. They died about three months ago, trying to protect Jaster from... horrible people. Kon is dead, but Cuyan still lives. That’s... hard for the Striil, you see.”

Deila stared at the sight of Cuyan on the floor, held Iisa tighter to her chest, something funny growing in her heart. She swallowed again, disliking the hard lump that had built there. Iisa licked her hand, and Deila stroked its fur gently.

Nield’s dark blue eyes softened in understanding. He pressed his mouth into a line and then, slowly, carefully, outstretched a hand toward Cuyan. Cuyan’s dull golden eyes followed the movement but made no movement in response. Nield’s hand touched the fur of the Striil and gently stroked its fur.

Deila watched as Nield comforted the Striil. If anyone among the Young knew about death and missing loved ones, it was Nield. Nield, who had known most of his family, and who had lost his entire family to the war.

Deila only had known her awful mother, not her father. Cerasi did not miss her manipulative excuse for a father but missed her dead brother terribly. Joli’s grandmother had died when he was five, and he was still conflicted about his feelings for her. Rani and Mawat only had each other and the orphanage that they had met in.

Ronnei had been nothing more than a waif on Melida/Daan’s streets, her only family was the Young.

Nield knew his family, cared for his family and lost them to the war. All of them, he was the only one left. Nield knew very well what loss felt like. That's why Nield did not attack Cerasi when he and Cerasi met on Melida/Daan’s broken streets. When they stood among the tiny white, yellow, and blue flowers that grew among the cracks of the pavement, instead of fighting, they talked. Talked and told each other stories, meeting day after day, until they both had realized how futile the war really was.

Until both of them were brave enough to form the group that they all were a part of.

Nield stroked Cuyan’s tawny fur, sorrowful dark blue eyes conveying the things that words could not express. Cuyan slowly lifted its head off of the floor and nuzzled Nield’s hand. Nield smiled a gentle, sad smile that curved the corners of his mouth and reached his eyes.

Obi-Wan looked on, blue green-grey eyes observing. A corner of his mouth turned in a half-smile as he stroked the Striil puppy on his shoulder once more.

Chapter Text

“They were starving.” Matru summarized in a flat tone, fidgeting with the knife in his hands.

The Zabrak sat cross-legged on the floor, watching Mijr and Bihes give the report on the adiik that they looked over. The other Baar'ur had already given theirs, Mijr and Bihes were just concluding the facts. Beside Matru, Ruld and Silas stood, eyeing Mijr with similar flat gazes, shoulders tense.

Mijr grimly nodded. “The adults would have had all the access to available food, not to mention other necessary amenities, like water. All the adiik had were the weeds and any animals they were able to hunt. Dehydration was common in the older ones, it would appear as if they had been giving their water to the younger ones.”

A murmur went through the room at that. Jaster watched his fellow Mando’ade as they reacted to the news, unsurprised to see the disgust. Some of them knew very well what starvation was. Some of them had experienced it themselves before they became Mando’ade.

“The adiiks were living in a kriffing sewer,” Myles ventured quietly. “And I highly doubt those osi'yaim adults were handing out bacta for any injuries.”

“Gar serim, there were infections in all of them,” Bihes agreed. “Fortunately, we have the medicine to combat the infections. And now that they are with us, we can give them the food and water that they need.”

Jaster nodded, reaching down to give Bukur a scratch on the back. Then he glanced at Mijr. “Something to add to that, Mijr?”

“I’m concerned for the older ones and the Jet’ika, ‘Alor,” Mijr said. “They were the thinnest, and I’m almost certain that they’ll automatically hand over food to each other instead of eating it themselves.”

“So do what you did for Ruld and me,” Matru said with gritted teeth. “Have someone there, so they don’t gorge themselves, have enough for everyone, and encourage them to eat and drink.”

“It is not that simple, the Jet’ika is nervous around us. He might think we are poisoning him.” Bihes countered.

Jango opened his mouth, a frown on his young face. “Couldn’t we convince him that it is safe?”

“How did that work on me, Jango?” Arla asked quietly.

A scowl drifted across Jango’s face. “This is different. He wasn’t tortured, he should be...”

Jango trailed off as he caught Mijr’s amber eyes. Jango’s face hardened, and his black eyes narrowed. “What, you’re saying that he was tortured?”

“There’s a likely chance that he was,” Mijr replied an edge of pain in his voice.

Bihes rubbed their hands together slowly and shrugged. “We don’t know what has happened to the Jet’ika. There are some concerning signs that Oje noticed. But that could just be due to enormous stress. Although since he is a Jetti, stress could very well be dangerous.”

“Concerning signs? Elaborate.” Jaster spoke.

“Well, as I said, he’s nervous around us, although he relaxes when the other adiik are near. If he gets agitated, he’ll start scratching, hard, specifically at the neck. He’s avoided eye contact with adults, except when he feels that he must thank you,” Bihes rattled off the list. “And he has made statements that indicate his disturbing willingness to throw himself into danger to save others.

“To be fair, he is a Jetti,” Umuth pointed out. “They are raised to be like that. Jetti are very empathetic.”

“Normal Cabur’Jetti show their little adiik how to protect others and take care of yourself,” Jaster frowned, folding his hands together. “From the looks of things, he was not taught this.”

“I’d even say he was taught the opposite,” Oje remarked. “Other people's feelings and well-being are paramount. And the Striil puppies not only piled on top of him the second he walked in their enclosure, but any Striil that’s wandering about nudges him for attention. The Striils can sense something’s wrong.”

“What convinced me to decide that torture possibly could have occurred was the presence of scars.” Mijr sighed.

Silence settled upon the small crowd in the meeting room. Jaster breathed through his nose. “Osik.”

There was a dull iron taste in the back of Jaster’s throat. The chilling knowledge that things somehow were worse than they even thought.

Arla’s black eyes bore holes into Mijr, her face hard. “What?”

Matru’s face stiffened. “Scars from battle?”

“That was my first assumption after I saw the results on the machine. But then the medical droid analyzed the Jet'ika. The scars were consistent with the ones that come from electro shocks, and they were around his neck. The exact place that he scratches. And they are old scars.” Mijr replies.

Matru was silent for a few moments. When he speaks, it is with a low voice. “So he was tortured... or he was once a slave.”

“Lek,” Mijr breathed out. “And he’s thirteen standard years for a human, which means that these happened when he was twelve or younger.”

Jango breathes in a sharp breath. Kebiin goes up and sits on his foot, tail swishing. Jango acknowledges it with a pat and then stares at Jaster with burning black eyes.

“Dar’jetti,” Jano snarls. “That Qui-Gon is a Dar’jetti and a demagolka, and those di’kut Jetti let him back into their Temple.”

“You and anyone else are free to hunt that demagolka piece of osik down once we have made sure that there aren’t any more attacks from Kyr’stad,” Jaster answered. “We’ll inform the Temple of what we have found as soon as we can.”

“Actually, Qui-Gon being a Dar’jetti is something that might have a disturbing connection.” Bihes glanced at Mijr with huge yellow eyes, skin going a dark dullish brown.

“Obi-Wan claimed that he came to Meldia/Daan three months ago.” Mijr paused, restless.

The room processed that information, Jaster leaning back, pressing his lips together.

‘Three months ago...’ Something cold grabbed at his stomach as pieces began to connect to form a horrifying picture in his mind.

“So, you’re saying that we were on Korda 6 at the same time this whole osik Melida/Daan debacle was playing out?” Ruld asked arms crossed lazily across their chest. The tone was bland and quiet, but it masked the anger underneath.

Bihes gave a sympathetic sigh, casting Voyd an apologetic look. Their skin turned a pale blue-grey. “Lek.”

Qar gave out an involuntary snarl at the reminder, feet shifting on the metal floor. Qar’s Striil leaned closer, rubbing its forehead on his knee. Khi Dro’s chocolate eyes grew hard and cold, their pale red head-tails growing utterly still. They reached out one gloved hand, brushing it against Qar’s grey beskar’gam, right above the heart. Qar’s steel-gray eyes stared at Mijr as he placed his hand over Khi Dro’s.

“You’re implying that Qui-Gon could have had a hand in the assassination attempt.” Qar growled out slowly, each word as cold as ice.

“Possibly. Jaster thought he was just about to turn, but he very likely turned a lot sooner from what we've seen. However, it is just a theory, based upon speculation. It explains how the Dar’jetti was able to perform the attempt, but...” Mijr broke off, crossing his arms.

Bihes picked up where he left off. “Assuming that Qui-Gon is a Dar’jetti also provides answers as to how Obi-Wan ended up so hurt. However, the only concrete thing we have to label him as a potential Dar’jetti is his treatment of Obi-Wan. Something that the Temple seems to have swept under the rug.”

“We’ll see about that.” Jaster promised darkly.

Jango bared his teeth, fists tightening. “How did no one catch this? How did kriffing no one catch this?”

Myles winced, slowly stepping over to where Jango stood so that he could place a hand on his shoulder. “Jango...”

Jango turned to Jaster, his jaw set in a firm hard line, his black eyes smoldering.

Jaster knew that expression like the back of his hand. Jango had it on his face when, long ago, they found Matru and Ruld in the remains of a ruined Dar’jetti camp, chained to a wooden post. He had it when they first met Yonsel, a pale Dathomirian teenager with fury in her yellow eyes and a frightened tiny adiik in her arms. And Jango had worn it when he saw Arla imprisoned by Kyr’stad, realizing for the first time that she was still alive.

That burning expression said only one thing; that Jango was going to do his absolute kriffing best to fix the problem before him, no matter what.

‘It’s a blessing and a curse that my ad has such determination.’ Jaster thought proudly.

Jaster’s silver eyes focused on Jango. “We’ll help them heal, cyar’ika. K'atini. They are kadala, but they will have mirjahaal.” He reassured Jango softly.

Myles nodded shortly at the familiar words, shoulders squaring. “It’s what we do, as Mando’ade. If not us, who will?”

Jango and Arla shared a glance, nodding at each other firmly.

“Cin vhetin.” They whispered.

There was always someone who needed a fresh start, someone that wanted to wipe their past clean and start over. For many of the Mando'ade, Jaster included, putting their past selves to rest and becoming Mando’ade was liberating. Being able to give that chance to others if they wanted it was also a sweet reward.

‘Someone in this kriffing galaxy has to step up and take care of things after all,’ Jaster thought. ‘Might as well be us.’

<><><>

Master Yoda stared down at the two items lying side by side on the Temple floor. One was a tunic that Padawan Obi-Wan wore when he was sent to Bandomeer. The other was the training lightsaber that Master Qui-Gon gave him.

Creche-Master Vant, Master Plo Koon, and Master Ky Narec observed the items with the same mournful gaze, hands folded.

Master Yoda looked unblinkingly at the objects with bulbous green eyes full of guilt and grief. His old ears had drooped down to his shoulders. Creche-Master Vant broke the silence first.

“It’s my fault. I never thought to ask Padawan Kenobi why he wanted to give the tunic to Master Qui-Gon. I should have, I should have noticed the darkness.” Her voice was heavy with sadness, blue head-tails lying limp on her chest.

Master Plo Koon shook his head, one orange hand patting her shoulder gently. “You had the younglings to look after, the burden shouldn’t fall upon you. I should have pried further into the situation. Healer Vokara Che mentioned the scars on his body and the obvious thinness directly to me. She did what she was supposed to do. I was the one to have fallen short.”

Master Ky Narec said nothing, merely glanced sorrowfully to the right.

Master Yaddle’s hologram was flickering as she stood, listening to Master Dooku informing her of what they had found. His voice was rough with emotion.

The events that had transpired in the Temple were terrible, they left Master Yoda’s heart aching.

Padawan Kenobi’s tunic lay before him, some Bandomeerian dirt still clinging to it. The tunic had the Dark side imprinted on the fabric, strong enough that a Jedi could feel it by merely touching it.

It was a miraculous thing that the darkness hadn’t affected Siri after she touched it. That alone spoke of the girl’s potential, what she could become with the proper care and training. Typically, Master Yoda would have focused on that.

But now he stared at the dirty tunic. If such darkness lingered on the tunic, that meant either Obi-Wan came into contact with a Sith, or he went into enormous stress, and his mind kicked into survival mode while on Bandomeer. Or even possibly both had happened.

Obviously, the report that Master Qui-Gon gave was no longer to be trusted. This, however, was only part of the reason why they now sat in the small room. Why they were grieving and berating themselves.

Master Qui-Gon had fallen.

It was just three words, small and tiny in his ancient mind. But they were awful words, and they conveyed a horrible reality. Master Qui-Gon, the tall boy that was so wild and caring of others, had fallen.

'Fallen'  was a word that they used to soften the truth for younglings and even sometimes themselves. So was the word broken, for that matter. Master Yoda looked at Obi-Wan’s ‘broken’ light-saber and winced. It was so painful to face what really was transpiring.

‘Refuse to face, what your actions have caused, do you?’ He berated internally, giving in to a rare moment of anger. ‘Behave like this, a Grand Master of the Jedi Order does not.’

Sensing his distress, Master Ky Narec sent an easing wave through the Force towards Master Yoda. The warm stream of calmness did not support or condemn him, it merely helped Master Yoda steady himself through his sorrow.

With the calm in his mind, Master Yoda forced himself to think of what was going on. Softening, it was not going to fix the many issues that they now faced.

In truth, Master Qui-Gon had turned to the Dark side of the Force at some point, perhaps even all the way back at Bandomeer. In reality, Padawan Kenobi had been in service to a Jedi that might have been using the Dark Force. Most likely, Master Qui-Gon did not teach him how to regulate his emotions, explaining the panic attack that the Mand’alor spoke of.

And at the core of it, Obi-Wan’s light-saber. When a Jedi said that a light-saber was broken, they meant that the kyber crystal inside had been shattered. Obi-Wan’s lightsaber lay on the floor, the kyber crystal that was once a beautiful green was now a bleeding red.

The tragedy of the shattered kyber crystal and how such a bright presence in the Force ended up with a Sith hurt Master Yoda significantly. No doubt that the shattered kyber crystal was a leading contributor to how the normally calm boy had gone into a panic attack. Master Qui-Gon was now a Sith, and worse, he had spirited away a youngling, Bruck Chun.

It would have been unsurprising if Obi-Wan and Bruck’s creche-members had retreated further into themselves. Thankfully, they had instead grown closer. Now they sat together at every opportunity, whispering feverishly, eyes burning bright as stars. Garen was focusing extra hard at his piloting classes. Siri was poring over light-saber crafting data-pads, and Quinlan often showed the other creche-members the different things that he had found on the holo-net.

It was the one pleasant thing out of this whole mess, and it brought a soft warmth to Master Yoda’s bones. Obi-Wan’s creche-members seemed determined to weather these troubles and be ready to welcome him home.

<><><>

Obi-Wan snorted at the eager Striil puppy as he sat on the floor, legs spread out, head leaning back against the wall. The puppy had jumped onto his shoulder and was now circling around, looking for a spot to settle. It was determined to be with him, and Obi-Wan could hardly refuse the cute little creature.

The Striil puppy settled along his neck, almost hugging it, tail wrapping close to his chest. It’s warmth leaked into his bones and made the tension bleed out. That felt nice, really nice, and Obi-Wan reached out a hand to stroke the puppy’s soft grey fur.

‘How long has it been since I could just relax?’ Obi-Wan thought.

Days, weeks, perhaps even a few months, Obi-Wan wasn't sure. It had been easier to relax back when he thought that he wasn’t going to stay with The Young.

He bit his lip and sighed heavily. ‘So much is happening.’

The Striil pup that had decided to make its home on his shoulder nudged his dirty cheek with its snout and shook its head, ears flopping about. Obi-Wan smiled wanly at the pup, feeling exhausted and worn out. He gave it some more pats, enjoying the pure delight that rolled off the puppy at such a simple gesture.

Obi-Wan had the oddest sense of deja vu as he sat in the circular room with his friends. According to Oje, this was where they were going to stay for now. And this room was a beautiful place to stay in. It was almost like the creche that he grew up in; a round table to share meals at, holo-pads, and toys.

‘Toys,’ Obi-Wan snorted dryly. ‘Feels forever since I’ve seen a toy.’

There were wooden carved toys of different animals and even a few toy balls. Obi-Wan almost half-expected Creche-master Vant to step through the door, could practically hear her smooth voice. ‘Focus on the ball and will it to rise up off the ground. The Force gives us strength inside of us. Pull on that strength inside you and lift.’

Obi-Wan dully raised a hand up, waving it slowly in the air. As he drew on the Force, it felt gritty and sluggish. The ball remained still. Obi-Wan let his hand fall onto his lap with a thud as he stared at the ball, blinking.

It had only been at most a day since he lifted the piece of metal, how could he be this drained? The last time he checked, he still had some energy left. Then Obi-Wan remembered the bandages on his fingers. He looked down at them, tracing the bandages with his hands.

‘Panic attack.’ He muttered softly, frowning.

Bant had described the feeling of a panic attack to him one night, long ago when they both were supposed to be asleep. ‘It’s an abrupt onset of fear and anxiety. You think that something bad is going to happen, you have to be ready for it, so your brain moves really fast and...’

Bant broke off with a sigh, tucking a maroonish-orange webbed hand under her head. Her huge silvery eyes blinked sadly at him. ‘It’s not a fun thing to go through.’

Obi-Wan's mouth twisted as he pressed his lips together. Once again, Bant had been right; he would really prefer it if that didn’t happen again. Being out of control like that was terrifying. But then it really was just a panic attack? He really didn’t use the Dark side, just thought that he did?

But... Why would he even think that he used the Dark side?

The answer, floated in the back of his mind and his neck itched. 

But the moment that his hand drifted up to scratch at it, the Striil puppy wiggled its body, blocking his hand from his neck. Obi-Wan stared at the creature as it gently nudged his hand away from his neck. Unable to scratch his neck, Obi-Wan just sat in the room. He felt drained and exhausted, with a sense of faint pain, like something important was missing.

The Striil puppy licked his cheek with a rough tongue and nudged it with its nose. Obi-Wan was broken out of his thoughts by the puppy. He turned his attention to the small creature with a tiny smile.

“Come here, dear one,” Obi-Wan offered his arms to the Striil puppy and gave a quiet giggle when the puppy leaped into them and snuggled down. “You’re not going to let me brood, are you?”

And if he was honest, it felt quite right to just sit and pet the puppy. It was almost as good as meditating with Quinlan and Reeft. With that pleasant memory lingering in his mind, Obi-Wan diverted his attention to his friends.

He counted all the heads of his friends, more out of boredom than a real concern. Cerasi was examining the toys with a puzzled and almost wistful expression. Ronnei was zooming around the room, her spirits buoyed by the ample space and the puppy. Joli was eyeing the beds with an odd look on his face like he wasn’t sure if he wanted to use it.

Mawat, Nield, and Rani weren’t currently in the room. Rani had needed to visit Bihes for a pain-killer, and Mawat wasn’t about to let her go alone. Nield wasn’t about to let one of the youngest out of his sight either, he trailed after them after telling Cerasi to watch the others and Cuyan.

Obi-Wan smiled softly at the thought of Nield and Cuyan. The fourteen-year-old might be slow to warm to others. Still, he instantly became interested in Cuyan’s well-being, almost outright demanding that the older Striil be allowed to stay with The Young.
The Mandalorians were happy to accommodate. Cuyan now lay in one of the room’s corners, dull golden eyes watching them despite the nasty wound on its shoulder.

Obi-Wan raised his head up, forgoing his wandering thoughts when Deila’s hand waved in front of his face.

Instead of giving him her usual scowl, Deila’s dark grey eyes studied him up and down. Then she smiled, a tiny faint smile, but a smile all the same. “You actually look peaceful with that puppy in your arms.”

Iisa was sitting by her ankles, peering at Obi-Wan with huge golden eyes. Obi-Wan nodded at Iisa gently and then gazed at Deila with twinkling blue green-grey eyes. “Did the tough and amazing Deila say a sentence without saying ‘kriff’ or ‘karking?’”

Deila gave an embarrassed snort of laughter and gently kicked Obi-Wan’s leg. “Oh shut the kriff up, you utter tease.”

Joli’s head turned to glance at them with raised eyebrows, delight creeping into his young face. “Did Obi-Wan just joke with you?”

Obi-Wan rolled his eyes, shaking his head as Deila’s smile grew wider, and those dark grey eyes held a twinkle of their own. “Is there something you wanted, Deila?”

Deila jerked her head to the left. “Yeah. Mawat and Rani are back.”

Obi-Wan nodded and rose up, stretching. The puppy scrambled back onto his shoulder, tiny blunt claws scratching at his worn, dirty tunic. Deila glanced back at the figures of Mawat, Nield, and Rani, pausing.

Obi-Wan looked at her, surprised by the hesitation and confusion on her dirty, scratched face. “What’s wrong?”

Deila paused and then looked at him, her dark grey eyes brimming with some strong emotion. “Nothing... It’s just... I’ve never seen Mawat and Rani look so... kriffing clean.”

Obi-Wan blinked at her, puzzled. Then he turned and searched for Mawat, Rani, and Nield. He found them, and the sight that greeted him made his heart skip a beat.

Mawat and Rani sat together on one of the beds, grinning at each other with huge grins. Oje and Khi Dro were standing at the room’s entrance, smiles on both of their faces.

Rani was being supported by pillows and soft blankets, the Striil puppy curled up on her lap. In her arms was a stuffed toy that she clutched eagerly to her chest. But the thing that genuinely stole Obi-Wan’s breath was Rani’s clean black hair hanging around her small gleaming face. Her large brown eyes were dancing with joy as she turned to look at Obi-Wan.

“I got a shower!” She declared proudly, chest puffing out. “And I look pretty!”

Mawat’s whitish blond hair gleamed as he sat next to Rani, grinning at Obi-Wan wolfishly. “They offered us a shower, and Rani really wanted to try it. So, of course, she dragged me into it as well. And I have to admit, she looks so much better than she did before.”

“So do you.” Obi-Wan swallowed at the unexpected swelling of gratitude in his chest.

Nield, standing nearby, glanced at Obi-Wan with an odd mix of confusion and reluctant happiness. “They both are trying to dare me into getting one.”

Cerasi joined them with curious pale green eyes. “Are you going to get one?”

Nield frowned. “Well, no. I have to keep an eye on you guys. What kind of leaders would we be if we didn’t keep an eye on our friends?”

Ronnei, who had been listening carefully, started to bounce with eagerness. “I want one! I want one! Please, can I have one?”

Nield glanced at her with a frown but turned to Obi-Wan. “What do you think?”

Obi-Wan paused, turning to look over his shoulder at Deila and Joli. Both of them were watching their friends with confused curiosity and slight reluctance.

Cersai spoke quietly. “We shouldn’t ignore this opportunity.”

But before Obi-Wan could give his voice on the matter, Ronnei turned to the two Mandalorians with pleading hazel eyes. “Can I have a shower, please?”

Nield froze, startled. He stared at the young seven-year-old as if she had gone mad. Cerasi blinked at her, eyebrows raised up with shock.

The smile on Obi-Wan’s face grew just a little wider at the sight of Ronnei asking for a shower. Then he reminded himself just who she was asking. But the reminder slid away from his mind when he looked at Rani’s joyful face.

Khi Dro tilted their head at the girl, a smirk growing on their face. “If you or any others of your aliit want a shower, ad’ika, they may have one.”

Ronnei cheered, throwing her hands up in the air and smiling at her Striil puppy. “I get a shower too! Yippee!”

“But,” Oje added in once Ronnei quieted down. “If they don’t, we aren’t going to force them to have one. There are other ways to get clean.”

Nield paused, unsure of how to react, dark blue eyes watching the Mandalorians warily.

Cerasi nodded quietly and glanced at Obi-Wan. “What are your thoughts, Obi-Wan?”

Obi-Wan swallowed and nodded at Nield reassuringly. “It’s going to be alright. Look at Mawat and Rani, they’re just fine. It will be good for us, I promise.”

Nield’s eyes flickered between Obi-Wan and Mandalorians, finally settling on Cerasi.

Cerasi’s pale green eyes softened at him. “Nield, it’s okay...”

Nield’s shoulders stiffened, but he said evenly. “We will put it to a vote, then, on who wants a shower and who wants something else.”

Nield abruptly turned towards Cuyan and marched over to where it lay, his shoulders stiff with tension.

Cerasi watched him go with an unhappy expression. “Oh, Nield...”

Obi-Wan frowned at Nield, observing as Nield settled down next to Cuyan and began to stroke its fur..” What’s wrong, Cerasi?”

Cerasi’s shoulder raised in a half-shrug. “He’s obviously mistrustful of where we are. And I suspect he still blames himself for freezing when they showed up. There was the chance that they could have been dangerous, and if they were, we could have died.”

Obi-Wan studied his friend, the Striil puppy on his shoulder, watching her with huge golden eyes. “Do you think that we are in danger?”

Cerasi paused and gave a confused frown. “I... don’t know. I don’t feel in danger at all. And I saw you joking with Deila, you haven’t done that in weeks. This place, the calmness around it, it’s helped you and the younger ones relax. But then again, you’re used to this.”

Obi-Wan stared at her until Cerasi clarified. “I mean, you’re used to adults being... you know, safe. I think... it’s going to be a bit longer before I believe that myself.”

Then Cerasi’s Striil puppy pawed at her from its place on the floor, and she turned to look at it with a faint smile.

“Perhaps not that long.” She admitted with a bigger smile.

Chapter Text

The room Bruck sat in used to be some sort of a bedroom.

The signs that someone used to be here stood out to Bruck, the starship posters and crayon drawings on the walls, the data-pads on the desk, the half-finished toy starship. The tiny dark-grey pebble that sat in the middle of the floor where it had been left. Bruck sat in front of it, staring down at the rock, biting his lip.

This used to be Obi-Wan’s room. This room was the one that Obi-Wan lived in for over a year before he went missing on Melida-Daan. It was... quite a strange feeling to sit in this room and look at the belongings of his former rival. There was nothing else to do, after all. Master Qui-Gon kept the door locked, and the metal cuffs were still on his wrists. Somehow they were cutting off his ability to reach for the Force. He felt nothing but silence where the Force’s reassuring thrum used to ring.

Following Master Qui-Gon out of the Jedi Temple had seemed like a smart idea, right until the point where Bruck got kidnapped. Now Obi-Wan was most definitely out there somewhere, alone, and Bruck was stuck here.

But for some strange reason, Bruck was not frightened by this, even though he had no idea where in the kriffing galaxy he was. Instead of feeling the strange cold in his gut, he was sitting on Obi-Wan’s bedroom floor and observing everything that he could. There would be an escape somewhere, somehow. There was some way that he could get to Meldia-Daan and... do what?

‘Help? Talk? Convince Obi-Wan to come back?’ Bruck wondered as he sat. ‘Would he even listen to his bully? Does it matter that I stopped? Or must I forever be marked as a bully?’

Bruck stared at the dark-grey pebble on the floor and hung his head, gritting his teeth. He had been here for six or seven days, ample time to sit here and realize several crucial things.

One, Master Qui-Gon had Fallen. Two, Obi-Wan didn’t tell anyone what was going on, not even his friends. Three, Master Qui-Gon was after some sort of revenge, the man was actively trying to make a Sith weapon. Bruck was glad that Obi-Wan’s training lightsaber didn’t work out for Master Qui-Gon. Neither had Bruck’s training lightsaber. While he knew that kyber crystals could be bled into Sith weapons, he had no idea that they could turn out to be useless if done incorrectly. That or the kyber crystals were actively resisting Master Qui-Gon.

And finally, the fourth and most important one, Bruck, could be responsible for what was currently going on. He bullied the boy; he was the one that fought with him in the Halls of Healing. No one could excuse the fact that Bruck made Obi-Wan’s life miserable ever since they met. It was after Obi-Wan had gotten hurt by Master Qui-Gon that Bruck stopped.

Bruck was certain that Master Qui-Gon fell on Bandomeer. Before he went to Bandomeer, he had stood with Master Yoda in the Halls of Healing and watched Bruck and Obi-Wan fight. There had been no cold sick feeling. But Obi-wan had that cold sick feeling surrounding him when he arrived back from Bandomeer with Master Qui-Gon.

Something inside of Bruck was convinced that whoever Master Qui-Gon wanted revenge with had to do with what happened on Bandomeer. So there it was then.

‘What happened on Bandomeer that threw Master Qui-gon into despair?’ Bruck asked himself.

But all his kriffing mind can think about is the way Siri’s face looked as he walked towards Master Qui-Gon. Her blue eyes, wide with panic, piercing into his back as he walked, the Malab rock held tightly in her hands.

Those blue eyes had the same frightened gleam that the others had for Obi-Wan. As if Bruck mattered to her just as much as Obi-Wan did. Bruck wasn’t sure what to think about that. He had turned and given her his Malab rock in the heat of the moment, afraid of losing it. Did that somehow make them friends? Like how Obi-Wan was friends with their other creche-members?

A part of him, a big part, was practically giddy at the thought. But another part of him was terrified.

The door clicked and began to open. Bruck hesitated and then grabbed the dark-grey pebble, hiding it in his tunic sleeve. For some reason, he didn’t want Master Qui-Gon to find it. Master Qui-Gon stood in the doorway, his face shadowed by the low light. Bruck watched him come in, his hands folded on top of his knees. The metal cuffs around his wrists were cold. But Bruck was not afraid. 

Master Qui-Gon loomed over Bruck, the dark figure gazing down at with pale blue eyes. Bruck stared back with ice-blue eyes that didn’t waver. He was calm, calmer than he had ever felt. Despite the chill of the cell, the cold cuffs, and the Fallen Jedi before him, Bruck was ready to do whatever it took to save Obi-Wan. Especially if it was Bruck’s fault that Obi-Wan ended up there.

There was a small dirty ten-year-old boy that stood by Master Qui-Gon’s side, his hands lying limply at his sides. He was clearly a captive. The boy had long white hair pulled back into a ponytail, and ice-blue eyes shone like steel chips. The stained clothes might have been fine once. Bruck’s lips curled into a sneer, his ice-blue eyes burning with disgust as he watched.

‘You bastard,’ He thought darkly. ‘You kriffing bastard.’

Master Qui-Gon sniffed as he looked down at the boy. Then he glanced at Bruck, those pale blue eyes staring right into him. “Do you know who this little boy is to you, Bruck?”

“If I had to guess, a hostage? Someone to make sure I don’t escape?” Bruck asked calmly, shrugging his shoulders.

The only reply Master Qui-Gon gave was a cold smile. Then he turned to the ten-year-old boy. “You know who he is, don’t you, Kad?”

“Why do you look like me?” Kad demanded harshly. “Who are you? Who are you, really?”

Bruck stared at the boy frowning. Something wasn’t right about all of this.

“Bruck,” Bruck said slowly. “My name is Bruck Chun... I am a Jedi.”

“Liar!” Kad sneered. “There is no kriffing way you are my older Jedi brother!”

Bruck stiffened as a white-hot flash ran down the length of his spine. ‘No... Oh kriff no, please no.’

It was a lie; there was no way that the boy in front of him was the same baby boy that Bruck held in his arms nine years ago. And yet something was nagging at him, an itch at the back of his mind.

Kad looked convincing. He even had the same ice-blue eyes. If Bruck was honest, there was something about Kad’’s looks that was oddly familiar, like an almost forgotten memory. He seemed to be in the right age range too. Bruck’s parents hadn’t named the baby before Bruck was taken away. He couldn’t know if the name was correct. However, what really was catching Bruck’s attention was the small necklace that Kad wore around his neck. It was a simple gold chain with a black rock at the end of it. The tiny black rock was as smooth as a mirror, reflecting the faint light from the doorway.

Bruck stared at that black rock, his brow furrowing in thought. That rock was a Malab rock, just like the one Alto gave him for his twelfth birthday. Bruck bit his lip against the tide of emotion swelling up in him. He was a Jedi, and he was supposed to have no attachments. He was a Jedi, and he had the creche back at the Temple.

He was a Jedi... and he was possibly meeting his baby brother for the first time in years.

Bruck shifted his eyes to Master Qui-Gon. “You knew I had a brother?”

“All your information is in the Jedi records.” Master Qui-Gon replied.

Bruck turned and found Kad staring at him with a scowl. Kad’s face was pale with fear, but he held it up proudly, almost spitefully.

The scowl darkened, and those ice-blue eyes flashed angrily. “No one messes with my family! My father is Vox Chun, and he will mess you up, even if you both are Jedi! He’s strong and powerful, and he has Xanatos on his side now!”

At the very end of that sentence, Master Qui-Gon’s pale blue eyes burned with anger. He turned his head to glance at Kad, and when he looked back at Bruck, those eyes were a burning yellow-red.

‘Vox,’ Bruck swallowed against the lump in his throat. ‘My father’s name is Vox.’

Master Qui-Gon spoke. “Yes. That’s right, your family is working with Xanatos. So your family is going to help me.”

Bruck gritted his teeth. There was a part of the answer, Xanatos did something.

“Help you do what?” Bruck questioned.

“Kill Xanatos,” Master Qui-Gon's voice was chillingly low. “I’m going to kill him like I killed his father.”

Kad blinked, taken aback. “W-what?”

Bruck paused, lowered his head, and took in a deep breath. A flicker of fear ran through him, not for himself, but for this boy that might be his brother, for Obi-Wan, and the other creche-members. He took another deep breath and clenched his fists against the waves of cold panic.

He swallowed against the lump of ice in his throat. “That’s really my baby brother... isn’t it?”

Master Qui-Gon nodded shortly, the pale blue eyes watching him steadily.

Bruck gazed into Kad’s ice-blue eyes. “Our father says these words every night. You will grow into a strong man one day. You must surround yourself with strong people, and you must tear down those that will make you weak.”

The words felt heavy on his tongue, those words that he used to repeat to himself daily. Kad blinked at Bruck, looking him up and down, taking in his dirty torn Initiate robes, the cuffs, and Bruck’s face.

Then a flicker of confusion appeared in the young boy’s face. “How did you know those words? How do you know what my Papa says to me?”

For a brief moment, Kad’s angry face softened. Then Kad’s face twisted into a suspicious glare. “N-no, no, you can’t be... No. This is a trick. Xanatos said that the Jedi would try to trick us. You’re tricking me! My older brother is at the Temple! Papa said so, and Xanatos said so!”

Bruck flinched and stared down at his shoes, his heart trembling in his chest. What the kriffing kark was Bruck supposed to do now?

"I was supposed to stay at the Temple,” Bruck replied. “But a member of my family is hurt. And I must go save him.”

Kad stared at him. And Bruck felt a twinge in his chest, the same warm fuzzy feeling that he got when he interacted with Aalto. It didn’t matter if this boy was his brother or not. Bruck wasn’t going to let Master Qui-Gon hurt him.

Master Qui-Gon gave a short, brittle laugh. “You consider Obi-Wan to be family? After everything that you did to him? Besides, I’m certain you are aware of what might happen to your young brother if you try to escape again?”

Bruck remained silent, one hand gripping the dark-grey pebble in his sleeve.

Kad looked sharply at Master Qui-Gon, confusion wrinkling his brow. “What? What do you mean?”

Master Qui-Gon chuckled icily. “I want Xanatos to come. I want him to come and fight me. I want to-, need to, fight him again.”

Kad flinched. Bruck eyed Master Qui-Gon with fierce ice-blue eyes.

He bared his teeth in a snarl. “I won’t let you hurt Kad. I won’t let you hurt Obi-Wan. I won’t let you hurt anyone of my creche members!”

Master Qui-Gon smiled slightly, a cold dark smile. “What if you have to choose? Obi-Wan, the boy that you hate, or the brother that you barely know?”

Kad shrank back from Master Qui-Gon, edging towards Bruck, tears pricking the corners of those ice-blue eyes. “Stop it... You’re scaring me!”

Bruck clenched his fists, bracing himself from Master Qui-Gon’s taunt. Then in one smooth motion, he moved into a kneeling position and gestured at Kad.

“Come here, Kad.” Bruck said softly, in the same tone of voice he used for Aalto.

Kad hesitated, then slowly came over to Bruck and stood next to him. His ice-blue eyes were huge and wary. 

Bruck smiled at him and then looked at Master Qui-Gon, lifting his chin stubbornly. “I don’t hate Obi-Wan. Maybe I did once, but not anymore. You are the one that hates him. And I am going to escape. I will take Kad away from you, I’ll protect Obi-Wan from you, and so will all the other Jedi. We are going to stop you.”

The silence that followed those words was an awful choking silence. Bruck stared at Master Qui-Gon as the Fallen Jedi’s face turned from coldly smug to a shocked expression.

The yellow-red eyes burned hotly as Master Qui-gon slowly shook his head, muttering softly. “That expression... Obi-Wan had that same expression, back on Bandomeer, when he was going to...”

Master Qui-Gon paused and bared his teeth at Bruck. “You’re a bully. You don’t have any friends, and you are filled with fear. You hated Obi-Wan.”

Those words were supposed to be an insult. But they sounded more like a defense to Bruck.

Bruck narrowed his ice-blue eyes at Master Qui-Gon and placed a protective arm on Kad's arm. “I am a Jedi... I will protect everyone from you.”

<><><>

Obi-Wan blinked in the soft darkness.

He knew he was having a nightmare, could feel it starting to come, but... nothing was happening. No Xanatos with a broken circle scar on his cheek, no flooded deep-sea mines, and nothing was tightening on his throat.
All Obi-Wan could feel was the sensation of something warm and heavy on his chest, a cold nose nudging him in the cheek. Blinking awake, Obi-Wan sat up from the bed he was lying on top of.

The Striil puppy was sitting on his chest, head resting on his neck, tail curled around one of his arms.

Obi-Wan raised an eyebrow at the creature, confused and partly grateful. “What? Why did you wake me up? Do you want snuggles or something?”

The Striil simply snuggled closer to Obi-Wan. Obi-Wan shook his head, holding in the chuckle that wanted to spill out.

He cradled his arms around the creature, crossing his legs together. “Dear one, you aren’t going to let me sulk, are you?”

The Striil puppy started to purr, a humming vibration that felt soothing to Obi-Wan. He smiled softly and stroked a finger down the Striil’s back.

“Thank you.” Obi-Wan whispered to the Striil.

A muffled cry sounded out from one of the beds. Obi-Wan sharply turned his head to the noise source, holding the Striil puppy tighter in his arms. He counted the heads of the Young with his eyes, making sure that he could see all of them.

Ronnei, Rani, and Joli were the only ones that had gone under the beds' soft covers. Deila and Cerasi had followed Obi-Wan’s example and laid on top of their sheets. Mawat sat near Rani’s bed, intending to keep guard over it. However, exhaustion had taken its toll on him, and the fourteen-year-old boy had slumped down onto Rani’s bed, asleep. Mawat’s Striil puppy was cuddling next to him.

Nield was sitting in front of the room’s door, carefully watching the Young and staying alert for any danger. Cuyan, with Nield’s help, had moved from its corner and now lay next to Nield, tail curled around his feet. Nield’s dark blue eyes met Obi-Wan’s as the noise sounded again. Someone was crying.

“Rani.” He mouthed at Obi-wan.

Obi-Wan winced and bit his lip, looking down. Rani was dealing with her ‘monsters’, and Mawat was asleep. Nield began to stand up, but Obi-Wan waved a hand at him, gesturing to sit back down. Nield frowned and shook his head, gesturing for Obi-Wan to lay back down. Obi-Wan promptly ignored him and stood up from the bed.

The Striil puppy clung onto his dirty tunic with its tiny blunt claws. Obi-Wan kept his arms around it as he hurriedly walked over to Rani's bed. Nield followed behind, scowling. Cuyan gave a low whine of pain as it attempted to stand up and fell back to the floor. Nield whirled around at the noise and stared at Cuyan with confused dark blue eyes.

“What? No, stay over there, we’ve got this,” Nield whispered to Cuyan as the Striil slowly crawled towards Obi-Wan and Nield. “Don’t hurt yourself further by moving too much.”

Nield turned back towards Rani. Cuyan kept crawling over to where Nield was.

Rani was crying, and she was trying to curl up into a ball despite her cast. Her Striil puppy was huddled on to her thigh, a paw resting on her leg. Obi-Wan gently climbed onto the bed, careful not to awake Mawat. His Striil scrambled up to his neck, settling down there as Obi-wan pulled back the sheets and wrapped both of his arms around Rani.

"Ssssh, Rani, dear one. It's alright. Everything is going to be alright." Obi-Wan murmured to the young girl.

Rani looked at him with large wet brown eyes, the edges red-rimmed and swollen. Both of her arms were squeezing the stuffed toy tight.

Obi-Wan smiled at her gently. “Don’t worry, Rani. The monsters are going to go away soon, I promise.”

Rani shook her head, sniffling. “No... They didn’t come.”

Obi-Wan blinked and glanced at Nield, concern flickering in his blue green-grey eyes.

Nield raised an eyebrow, staring at the young girl. “Why are you crying then?”

Rani pointed at her Striil, brushing a hand across her nose and leaning closer to Obi-Wan. “I could feel them coming, I knew that I was going to have to see them, but then the Striil chased them away. I... I was so happy that I just...”

She sniffed again, rubbing at her eyes. Obi-Wan stared at her, his eyes widening in surprise.

Nield frowned at the girl. “That doesn’t make any sense, Rani.”

“Mine did the same thing,” Obi-Wan whispered, blinking at the Striil puppy. “I was having a nightmare, and it woke me from the nightmare. That’s why it woke me up, it could tell that I was having one and...” He drifted off once he caught the looks on Rani and Nield’s faces. “What?”

Rani stared at him with confusion, worry in her eyes. “You have monsters, Obi-Wan? You?”

Obi-Wan paused. “Erm... Kinda?”

Rani frowned. “But you’ve never cried out from one!”

Nield’s dark blue eyes narrowed thoughtfully at Obi-Wan.

Obi-Wan glared at Nield. “Stop. I know exactly what you are thinking and... just don’t. Master Qui-Gon had nothing to do with that.”

Nield remained silent, dark blue eyes drifting from Rani to Obi-Wan. He crossed his arms over his chest and shuffled his feet, unconvinced. A noise made Obi-Wan and Rani glance down from the bed. Cuyan had crawled all the way to the ground and was now trying to crawl up the sheets. But the Striil had used all of its energy in crawling over to the bed.

Nield’s face softened, and he kneeled down, picking Cuyan up with a single heave and placing the Striil on the bed. “Alright, you kriffing stubborn Striil. Is that better now?”

Cuyan gave a little snort and laid its head on Rani’s foot. Obi-Wan wasn’t precisely sure, but it seemed as if its dull golden eyes were somehow brighter now.

Rani’s small face lit up with delight. “Aww, that's so cute!"

"Rani, quiet." Obi-Wan tried to shush her but it was too late.

Mawat jerked, half-awake, one hand reaching down for a gun no longer at his side. “What, what the kriff is going on? Where are they at, I can shoot-.”

“Relax.” Nield said firmly, placing a hand on Mawat’s back.

For a few moments, Mawat was tense as he gazed across the room. But then he slowly relaxed as he took in Obi-Wan, the Striils, and Rani. “We’re okay?”

“Yes.” Obi-Wan replied, petting the Striil puppy on his shoulder.

Nield put a finger to his lips quickly. “Rani, shhh. We all are tired, and we need our sleep."

Nield turned and looked at Obi-Wan pointedly. "All of us.”

Obi-Wan rolled his eyes. “I’ll be fine, really. I can sit up with you and keep watch.”

Nield paused and frowned. “I don’t, you don’t have to, I, I just need to...”

His frown darkened, and he hung his head, strands of dirty brown hair falling into his eyes.

Obi-Wan sighed softly. “I’ll sit up with you so that you’re not alone tonight. I can tell you're still nervous.”

Mawat and Rani settled back down for the night. Obi-Wan helped Nield lift Cuyan off of the bed and onto the floor. The two boys wrapped themselves in blankets and sat together, watching the door. Cuyan crawled into Nield’s lap, and Obi-Wan’s Striil puppy curled up around his neck.

“It’s almost like I need to stay nervous, despite all the good signs,” Nield whispered to Obi-Wan, dark blue eyes on the floor. “If I’m relaxed, how can I spot the danger that might come?”

“And if no danger comes?” Obi-Wan prompted.

Nield snorted and gave Obi-Wan a look. “You and I both know that it will come. Eventually, there will be something else that we must fight.”

Obi-Wan sat and stared at the door, thinking. He was only a little surprised when Cerasi’s sleepy face appeared in the corner of his eye. “Rani woke you up too?”

“We’re used to getting little sleep,” Cerasi shrugged. “It’ll be fine if I stay up with you all.”

She settled down on Obi-Wan’s other side, smiling at Nield’s exasperated expression. “And by the way, if there is something that we must face in the future, we will do it together.”

Nield sighed. Obi-Wan met Cerasi’s pale green eyes and turned to Nield. He held out a hand. “We’ll be fine. We are going to stay together, no matter what. We promised.”

“We promised.” Nield repeated, reaching out a shaking hand and grasping Obi-Wan’s.

Cerasi held Obi-Wan’s other hand, her smile growing warmer and softer. "And we keep our promises, don't we?"

Despite his best efforts, Obi-Wan found himself drifting back off to sleep as he sat there between his two friends, the Striil puppy warm at his neck.

Chapter Text

Outside, early dawn rose over Coruscant, the sky turning from black into a dull purplish-grey. It would be several minutes before the sun came up. The view from the Halls of Healing’s window was small but beautiful. Master Tahl sat cross-legged on the medical cot, staring at the window with clouded milky white eyes as she worked.

A long stick of wood floated in front of her, along with a knife and several wood shavings. Slowly the blade carved the wood into a walking stick. Bant watched her as she worked, webbed hands twisting in her lap.

“They blinded you. There’s nothing I can do; the nerves are too damaged,” Healer Che had told Master Tahl. “Perhaps years from now, with Force healing and medicine, you might be able to see some shapes and colors.”

“At least I have the Force.” Master Tahl had said brightly.

Master Tahl needed that walking stick, and she was going to need help from others. That's part of the reason Bant was helping Master Tahl. The other part was that she was distracting her Creche-Master at the same time. Today was the day that they were going to make their escape. They needed everything to work out perfectly if they were going to help Obi-Wan.

Master Tahl raised her head from her work, lips twitched into a smile. “I think this stick just might be ready for a test.”

“Healer Che won’t be happy to see that you are walking about, Master Tahl,” Bant spoke as she laid a cold webbed hand onto Master Tahl’s knee, glancing over at Healer Che. “Perhaps you should...”

“Nonsense, my dear,” Master Tahl huffed, patting Bant’s webbed hand softly. “I don’t need my eyes to see what is around me. I have the Force.”

Even now, with a thin frame and blinded eyes, there was still a sense of power radiating from her. Master Tahl lifted herself from the cot and stood on two unsteady feet, one hand reaching out to grasp for support. Bant stepped forward, allowing Master Tahl to use her shoulder. The walking stick settled down onto the cot, and Master Tahl picked it up, holding it tightly.

Once the Jedi was confident of her grip, she began to walk carefully back and forth, using her walking stick and the Force to detect objects around her. Bant counted her steps aloud, the number of trips that Master Tahl made without bumping into something growing with each turn.

A smile grew on Bant’s face. It looked like Master Tahl was going to do just fine without her assistance. Healer Che hummed but did not comment.

Creche-Master Vant came over gently, hands folded. “You are doing well then, Master Tahl?”

Bant blinked, taken aback. For a moment, her Creche-Master looked frail and small, uncharacteristic sadness in her usually calm face. It was an alien feeling to see it on her.

“Yes, it seems so. But let’s go out for a bigger test. Come along, my dear. I have just the place in mind.” Master Tahl headed out towards the door with an assertive air, smiling widely.

Creche-Master Vant trailed after her and Bant, giving Healer Che a small bow in passing. They moved along slowly, passing by each marble pillar. Bant breathed a sigh of relief. Perhaps she’d be able to slip away soon.

Master Tahl stopped and let out a sigh. “Well, Master Vant. Are we going to do this?”

Bant glanced at Master Tahl, confused. “Master?”

Creche-Master Vant raised her eyes to meet Master Tahl’s face, and then she looked at Bant. She paused but nodded softly, certainty in her eyes. “I want to do this, Tahl. He needs support, especially after what he’s gone through.”

Master Tahl nodded. “So be it then, my dear. Let’s go and talk to Obi-Wan then.”

Bant stuttered, blinking in surprise, her mouth suddenly dry. ‘She knows. They know, who else knows?’

Master Tahl’s hand on her shoulder was warm and gentle. Master Tahl smiled, warmth spreading over her face. “Let’s go meet your friends at the shipping dock, youngling.”

“H-how do you, I mean, I...” Bant stared at her, stumbling, unsure of what she should even be saying at this moment.

Creche-Master Vant reached out a blue hand and placed it on Bant’s arm. “You and your friends were very clever. You hid your plans well.”

Bant shook her head mournfully. “Not if you have figured it out, Master.”

Master Tahl laughed. “Just because I figured out what you were planning doesn’t mean I intend to stop you, my dear.”

Bant jerked, glancing back at Master Tahl with surprise. “What?”

Master Tahl gripped her walking stick. “I have an apology to make. And now, someone that I must take care of. Let us be off before moss grows under our feet.”

<><><>

Siri stared at the many gleaming ships lined up in a row, the docking yard’s lights shining above. Outside, the early morning sky was beginning to lighten into rosy shades, framed by air traffic lines. It was a beautiful quiet morning, perfect for the creche to carry out their plan. She clutched the long sleeves of her tunic tighter; this was it. They were going through with it.

Soon, in a few moments, Quin was going to hack into one of the Temple’s ships. Once they unlocked one of the ships, they could go off and rescue their friends.

Bant just had to hurry up. The Mon Calamari was supposed to be distracting Creche-master Vant. They needed to make sure that the Twi’lek who raised every single one of them didn’t get wise to this plan.

Siri sighed, rubbing her hands together. ‘What’s taking her so long? Who knows how long we have before they catch us?’

Bant had been just as eager as Siri, if not more so, to go on this wild adventure. Aalto and the others were hiding a few feet away, waiting for the signal. What would one of the Temple guards say if they caught them standing out here, alone?

The ship’s door controls gave a short beeping noise and flashed a blinking red. Quinlan blinked and drew back, hesitating. “Kriff.”

“Quin?” Siri turned to look at him, biting at her lip. “What, what is it?”

He looked over at her, his face scowling. “We’re ready to go, and Bant is nowhere! What do we do now?”

“I don’t know. I don’t even know how long our Creche-master is going to buy Bant’s distraction.” Siri paused, blue eyes narrowing.

There was a distinct tapping noise on the temple's marble floors, growing closer by the minute. Accompanying that tapping noise was footsteps, adult footsteps.

Quinlan’s expression became frozen in place, his dark eyes growing wide.

Siri swallowed. “Quinlan?”

A soft chuckle sounded behind Siri, the noise making her blood run cold. “My apologies for interrupting your plan, youngling.”

Siri whirled around, jumping slightly. Master Tahl herself was slowly coming out of the shadows and heading towards them, a walking stick tapping against the floor. Creche-Master Vant was walking alongside her, one blue hand steady against her arm. Bant was trailing behind them, wiping at her face with webbed hands.

Quinlan tensed, hunching over the ship’s door controls. “What now?” He mouthed.

Siri squared her shoulders as she faced the two approaching Jedi. “We'll figure something out. Just keep working on that door.”

Mouth dry, Siri bit the inside of her cheek as the two Jedi came to a stop. She stood in front of them, her hands grabbing at her tunic nervously.

“Creche-Master Vant, Master Tahl,” Siri remembered her manners and bowed to the two Jedi. “It is good to see you moving about, Master.”

“Thank you, young one.” Master Tahl smiled at her warmly.

“You are planning to leave the Jedi Temple.” Creche-Master Vant said gently.

Siri looked up at Creche-Master Vant. She nodded softly. “Yes, Master Vant. We are leaving... to help Obi-Wan. We need to go and get him a lightsaber, especially since he’s lost his.”

Master Tahl smirked. “You feel quite strongly about this, don’t you?”

Siri straightened, hands gripping into fists. “Obi-Wan is my friend, but also everyone else’s friend. He’s part of our creche. He is one of the closest things I have to a family in this galaxy. I... I can’t just abandon him. I need to; I want to help him. In any way, I can.”

Bant arrived, her huge silver eyes brimming with tears. “Siri... They are coming with us. They want to help us.”

Siri stared at Bant and then at the two Jedi. She couldn’t believe what she was hearing. Before Siri could think of anything to reply, Aalto came running up from the hiding place they had assigned him, his small face scowling. “You can’t stop us from leaving! We’re going, no matter what.”

“Aalto!” Quinlan hissed, moving over towards the boy. “What are you doing?”

Master Tahl smiled at Aalto. “Is that so, youngling?”

Aalto lifted his chin stubbornly, emerald eyes flashing. “Yes. We need to help our friends. Our family.”

Garen and Reeft, who had followed Aalto, stood behind the young boy. Garen’s face was a bit pale, but he looked just as determined as everyone else. Reeft was nodding along to what Aalto had said, his jaw set firmly. “You are not going to stop us.”

“Unfortunately, my dear, Obi-Wan is the only one that can build himself a new lightsaber,” Master Tahl held up a finger against Siri’s protests. “But that doesn’t mean he can’t have support in doing so. I agree with you; he is going to need as much as he can get. I’m not here to stop your plan. I’m merely here for the ride. And the chance to correct a grave mistake.”

Creche-Master Vant glanced at Bant, noticing her tears. She reached out an arm and wrapped the youngling into a quick hug. “Obi-Wan is going to be just fine, Bant. I promise. We will visit him, and you will see.”

“Okay,” Bant rasped, sniffling. “Okay. I believe you.”

Siri didn’t believe what was happening until she was sitting in the ship, feeling it lift off from the ground. She headed into a side room, her head feeling as if it were in a daze. Then it all hit her at once.

They were off to go and see their friend for real and true. She was going to see Obi-Wan again. They were going to see Obi-Wan again.

She sat down on a bed and hugged herself. The room was standard issue for the Temple. The Jedi were communal in almost all things, and few of them owned many personal belongings. However, a freshly new Padawan was still a youngling at heart.
It was entirely normal for a new Padawan to bring some of their items from their creche into their new Padawan rooms. Toys, posters, blankets, books, whatever helped the Padawan feel secure. Sometimes, if the pair were going on a long trip, the Temple would let the Padawan turn a ship’s room into their own.

Obi-Wan had a room like this. Siri watched him and the others pick items to decorate it. Siri’s lip trembled.

Creche-Master Vant came into the room and stood in front of Siri. Siri approached her guardian and looked up into her face. It took her a moment to find the words. “You want to go to where Obi-Wan is? Even though there are... the Mandalorians?”

Creche-Master Vant pressed a soft palm to Siri’s shoulder. “Of course, Siri. If they aren’t bringing him back here, then I will go to him.”

Siri swallowed and placed a hand on Creche-Master Vant’s arm. “Aren’t you going to be in trouble for this, Master?”

Creche-Master Vant’s eyes were sparkling as she outstretched an arm to Siri. “Obi-Wan’s Master did not look after him properly and abandoned him. If the Jedi Master I entrusted Obi-wan to did not look after him right, he is once more my responsibility. I... I care for him just like you do, my dear.”

Siri blinked at Creche-Master Vant, the woman who was the closest thing she ever had to a mother. She opened her mouth to say something, anything but choked on a sob. Tears in her eyes, Siri hugged her tightly.
For a moment, it was like Siri was six again, crying into the robes of her Creche-Master. For a moment, it felt like Obi-Wan would come running out of nowhere and place a comforting hand on her back.

“It’s okay,” Creche-Master Vant whispered. “He’s doing just fine. You will see him again.”

<><><>

The first time he looked in a mirror, he had spent over an hour just staring at the pale, thin, bruised boy with dark circles under his eyes. There had been no mirrors on Melida/Daan. It was not a face that he was used to seeing. It brought up memories of dark, damp, slimy caves, glowing red lightsabers, and a heavy electro collar.

When he heard footsteps, he half-expected to feel Nield’s hand on his shoulder, silently telling him to stop spacing out. Instead, he felt the tiny pricks of his Striil puppy climbing up his back and curling around his neck. Something heavy and warm sat down onto his foot.

Obi-Wan broke his gaze away from the mirror and looked down. One of the bigger Striils was sitting down on his foot, bright golden eyes staring up at him.

“Hello,” Obi-Wan said quietly. “Where did you come from?”

“Kebiin wants you to cuddle with him.” A voice said from behind.

Obi-Wan slowly turned his head and noticed the Mandalorian named Jango sitting on a cushion. He blinked. Jango was dressed in a light blue tunic and pants, his hands cupping a hot beverage. There was what looked to be a cloak rolled up on his lap, a cloak that looked fluffy and soft. Somehow that imagery didn’t compute with the stories that he knew of from childhood.

Nevertheless, Obi-Wan trusted the Mandalorians enough now to be comfortable with sitting down next to one of them. He pried his foot away from Kebiin and gingerly sat down on one of the cushions, gesturing. “Come on then. Look, I’m perfectly okay.”

Kebiin gave what looked to be a snort and then walked over to Obi-Wan, pointedly stretching itself over his entire lap. His Striil puppy purred from its place on his neck. Obi-Wan looked over to Jango. "What is that you have there?"

"Shig. It's a herbal beverage most of the time, although when you're out on the field sometimes you have to be creative. You can try it if you wish." Jango said warmly.

Obi-Wan reached out, curious, and took a careful sip. It tasted of citrus, bright and soothing on his tongue. It was wonderful and Obi-Wan kept drinking. It was only when the shig was half gone that he remembered his manners and hastily handed the beverage back. "Oh, apologies, but that was amazing. What kind of herb was that? I've never tasted it before." 

"It's behot. It is from Manda'yaim," At Obi-Wan's puzzled expression Jango elaborated. "Mandalore. Most call it Manda'yaim, since it is our home planet."

“How can you tell what they want?”

“It’s the bond that we have. You learn from each other,” Jango pointed to Obi-Wan’s neck. “Yours can sense the pain in your neck, so that’s where it gravitates.”

Obi-Wan smiled, reaching out a hand to stroke its back. Then he paused, looking down at Kebiin lying in his lap. The tip of the older Striil’s tail was on top of his foot. Right where a ankle chain would go. A prickle ran down the length of Obi-Wan’s spine.
Jango saw Obi-Wan’s gazing at his foot and the look on Obi-Wan’s face. There was a question hanging heavily in the air.

Jango sighed and spoke. “I was once a slave too.”

Obi-Wan stared at him. Jango’s face was impassive, calm, the black eyes gentle. The hot beverage steamed in his hands. The moment stretched, silent, and long before Obi-Wan quietly broke it. “I’m so sorry.”

He wrung his hands before continuing. “But I... I wasn’t a slave.”

Jango observed him. Obi-Wan stammered as he explained. “It was only for a couple of weeks, at most. It would be wrong for me to say that I was once a slave.”

Jango set the beverage down on the floor, then leaned down and pulled up his pant leg. Obi-Wan’s eyebrows rose at the sight of the pale scars running around Jango’s ankle. Jango gave a bitter smile. “I was one for five days.”

“Five?” Obi-Wan looked from the ankle to Jango’s face with confusion and horror.

Jango took in a breath and let it out. “All stories have a kernel of truth inside of them. The stories that Mando’ade are nothing but bloodthirsty killers exist because of our ancestors' past. My ancestors committed horrific atrocities. I will never deny that fact.

But that doesn’t mean that I should do the same or that I will. However, not everyone has that same mindset. You ever hear about Kyr’stad?”

Obi-Wan shook his head slowly. “Who are they?”

“They are dar’manda, demagolka, and they are bastards that don’t care who they kill,” Jango’s voice was cold as he said this, but then he softened once he looked back at Obi-Wan. “Sorry for the language.”

“You called the adults demagolka. What does it mean?” Obi-Wan asked.

“Monster. War-criminal. Someone that kills children,” Jango grits his teeth. “Dar’manda means no longer a Mando’ade, one that has lost their way. Soulless, forever lost. Most of Kyr’rstad is made up of those who either want to conquer the galaxy or don’t want to follow any rules. They claim to be the ones that are genuinely honoring our ancestors, but what honor lies in killing innocents?”

Jango sneered. “My buir hates those kriffing pieces of osik almost as much as I do.”

“The Kyr’stad have attacked you?” Obi-Wan questioned.

“They have warred against the Mando’ade ever since Jaster was elected, and they have killed many of our aliit. I... lost both my buirs to them.” Jango paused, swallowing at the memory.

Obi-Wan felt tears prick the corners of his eyes. He never knew his birth parents; the only parent he had ever known was Creche-Master Vant. The thought of losing her...

Kebiin stretched a paw, resting it on top of Jango’s hand. Jango smiled at the Striil, patting its head gently. “Jaster adopted me, taught me how to fight and how to lead others. He also tracked the Kyr’stad down, making sure that they couldn’t do that to anyone else. One day, we found out that they were holed up in this one spot. I was an angry thirteen-year-old wanting to prove myself, and I wanted revenge. So when I heard that Kyr’stad might be there, I was a di’kut and attacked them on my own before reinforcements arrived. Unsurprisingly, Myles, and I got captured and brought into their camp. I was there for five days. I was their prisoner, and I was their slave.”

Obi-Wan looked down at Jango’s ankle and closed his eyes, one hand brushing at his face. “I’m so sorry,” He repeated.

Jango sighed, his eyes soft and sad. “I was lucky. Haar’chak, I was more than lucky. Turns out, my vod, Arla, was in the same spot. She had been their prisoner for years. Discovering that I was alive was a bit of a shock for her. Jaster burned the kriffing place to the ground once he arrived. Wasn’t too happy with me, to say the least.”

Then he turned to look Obi-Wan directly in the eye. “Despite all of that, even for those five days, I was a slave. Sure, it was only five days, and sure, I wouldn’t know what it would feel like to be a slave for years. But I know enough of the shame and the anger to empathize.”

Obi-Wan drew in a deep heavy breath. “It was my fault.”

He winced. Compared to Jango’s story, the defense seemed weak and paltry. Yet he continued. “I was trying to convince Mast... Qui-gon. I wanted to be his Padawan, and I had been trying the whole kriffing trip, even though the two of us were in danger the entire bloody time. There were Hutts, Whiphids, angry predators, pirates; it was a mess. And then, after all that, he just sends me to the Agri-Corps, even though both of us were suspicious that something was wrong.”

Obi-Wan sniffed angrily, brushing at his face again. His Striil whimpered and snuggled closer. “Xanatos, Qui-Gon’s Padawan that fell to the Dark side, he was there. He thought that I was Qui-Gon’s Padawan, and he saw an opportunity to hurt Qui-Gon. So he had me taken to the deep sea mining slave camp. It was... awful. Awful.”

Jango’s face hardened. “I can only imagine.”

Obi-Wan reached a hand back up to his neck, but he only petted his Striil. “Qui-Gon arrived right after Guerra saved me from being thrown off the deep-sea platform. He explained a few things while we tried to escape. How Xanatos was using me to hurt him, how Xanaots hated him, how Qui-Gon’s pride and ego blinded him. Qui-Gon’s face... it was so bleak. He was hurting from this whole mess, deeply hurting. And then we were chased by Xanatos into the deep sea caves.”

Obi-Wan paused, shuddering. “It was so kriffing cold in those caves. And it was so dark. Xanatos was laughing, Qui-Gon was afraid, and I was terrified. Xanatos was attacking us, we were fending him off, but then he set up this giant bomb that was going to blow up. The slaves were going to die from that bomb, Guerra, and the innocent people at the Agri-Corps, the people that helped get us to Bandomeer...

Obi-Wan’s shoulders slumped downwards, his arms lying limply on top of Kebiin. “We were stuck down there in those cold caves. This transparisteel door that blocked our way, we couldn’t move it, not even together. I, I was panicking, I couldn’t think of what to do. I was desperate...”

Obi-Wan broke off as Jango rolled out the bundle in his lap and laid it across Obi-Wan’s shoulders. Obi-Wan blinked, clutching at the cloak. It felt like how Jaster’s cloak did, warm and comfy. In fact, Obi-Wan was somewhat suspicious that it was one of Jaster’s cloaks. Both of the Striils were pressing their weight against him. It felt comforting to Obi-Wan.

He sniffled again, whispering. “Thank you.”

Jango’s face was sympathetic, one arm resting on Obi-Wan’s. “You don’t have to continue.”

“I know, but I want to. I need to get this off of me. I haven’t told anyone else except the Young. Qui-Gon told me not to. I was frightened of telling anyone else. I... I had the electro-collar around my neck, and I knew that by blowing it up, I could open the door,” Obi-Wan paused, then hung his head. “Qui-Gon became desperate after I told him what I was going to do. We were running out of time. He called me Padawan and ordered me not to do it. I ignored him and went to the door. I told him that I had to. He grabbed my tunic, and at the same time, he slammed a hand onto the door.”

“He opened it using the Dark Force?” Jango realized.

“And I was relieved by it. Not ashamed, not angry, just relieved,” Obi-Wan looked up at Jango helplessly. “We had to go and stop the bomb. We had to report to the Jedi Temple. And somehow, in the middle of that, I became his Padawan. I didn’t tell anyone else, not because I was afraid of Qui-Gon, but because I was afraid of what would happen. I almost lost my family by not getting a Jedi Master. What would have happened to me if I said something?”

Obi-Wan drew the cloak closer, gritting his teeth. “Now look what has happened. The moment I go against Qui-Gon, he abandons me.”

"I think that no sane person would look at that whole mess and blame you. Not only were you twelve, you had just been through haran with that slave camp. And you nearly died several times over. No, the ones that should be blamed are the ones that put an adiik with a clearly hurting unstable man and expected the adiik to fix him. No, you did the very best that you could. And it was enough, because you saved the Young. You all would protect each other against anything. You are not abandoned, and you are certainly not alone. You have your Striil now,” Jango’s voice was firm and reassuring. “You just simply have a Shuk'la mirshe, but it will heal. You will have Mirjahaal.

Obi-Wan relaxed slightly. “K'atini, isn’t that what Jaster said?”

“It is only pain. The pain passes with time, and with an aliit. And if what you have right now doesn’t count as an aliit, I don’t know what is.” Jango said softly.

Obi-Wan felt a small wan smile spread over his face. He did feel better. Almost as if by finally letting all of this out, he was letting go of some terrible burden. He moved to take off the cloak. “You are going to want this back.”

Jango motioned to the cloak. “Keep it. Sometimes it’s good to have something nice to wear when you are feeling awful.”

Obi-Wan’s smile grew bigger as he snuggled further down into the cloak.

<><><>

The hot water flowed from the metal head and beat against his face. He ran one hand along his arm, trailing the sweet-smelling soap suds. Obi-Wan closed his eyes against the balmy steam and took in a deep, slow breath. This had to be his tenth shower by now. And it felt just as lovely as the first.

Obi-Wan couldn’t quite describe how nice it was to have hot water wash down his back. After what felt like ages, he could feel the dirt, dust, carbon, and ash disappearing down the drain. It honestly felt almost like he was stripping away those awful three months.

Of course, the towels were soft too. And when Obi-Wan is done toweling himself off, the boy that looks back at him from the mirror seemed somewhat reasonable. He looked healthy. Obi-Wan stared at himself for a few seconds.There was something else in his reflection that he had noticed. The red marks from his nails were no longer there. They had faded away, leaving behind only the scars. One pale finger trailed against his neck, fingering the spot where the red marks used to be.

Somehow that made Obi-Wan feel happy as he left the refresher, wrapping the fluffy cloak around his shoulders. He sat down onto his bed, cradling the Striil puppy that lazily crawled into his lap.

“You like it when I scratch your head, don’t you? Yes, you do.” Obi-Wan hummed.

“Wow,” Ronnei breathed, staring at the mirror with wide hazel eyes. “Look at me.”

The girl’s strawberry blond hair had been washed, brushed, and placed into a loose bun. After several days of washing and brushing, the seven-year-old’s hair looked healthy.

Obi-Wan sat up from the bed, cradling his Striil puppy gently. “Do you like your new haircut, Ronnei?”

Ronnei glanced at him, something soft in her eyes. “...I didn’t know my hair was this color. But, yeah, I like it. It’s so shiny now.”

She glanced at him again. “Do you like it, Obi-Wan?”

Obi-Wan shook his head at her, the smile coming quickly to his lips. “Of course. Matru did a fine job. Besides, you are happy with it, and that’s all that matters.”

“Yeah. Kat’ra likes my hair too,” Ronnei paused. “Did I say it right?”

“I think so,” Obi-Wan nodded. “It sounds right.”

Ronnei grinned, scooping up Kat’ra and almost hopping over to where Rani played with the toys.

Obi-Wan turned at the sound of Deila entering the room. “I almost didn't recognize Ronnei. She looks like a kid now...”

Obi-Wan stared at Deila, his mouth falling open. Deila’s brown hair, like all the Young, had been washed and brushed. But now the hair had been curled, giving Deila an entirely different look. She was looking at him strangely, something soft and gentle in those grey eyes.

“You look better than I have ever seen you,” Deila snorted. “I’m almost curious about what you’d look like wearing different clothes.”

Obi-Wan smoothed down the ragged remains of his Jedi tunic. No amount of washing was going to salvage it. “Do you think I should?” He asked hesitantly.

Deila paused, then shrugged. “If you want. Maybe you can make new Jedi robes. You do have a lot of time on your hands now. Besides, I have something exciting to show you.”

She pulled out sheets of white paper and a can of paint, a wide grin splitting her usually stern face. “Look what Qar gave me!”

Obi-Wan’s eyes widened. He sat down cross-legged on the floor with Deila, staring at the blank white sheet of paper in front of him. Taking one brush, dipping it into the can, and dragging it across the page, he stared as the trail of bright paint spread over the paper.

“I forgot how much I loved coloring,” He whispered gratefully. “Oh, I just can’t wait to show Nield and Cerasi this.”

Chapter Text

If anyone had ever told Obi-Wan that the Mand’alor would cheerfully eat with children, he would have laughed aloud. Yet now he sat at a huge round low table, watching the Mando’ade as they encouraged the Young and Obi-Wan to eat the food before them.

Obi-Wan still had the cloak hanging on his shoulders. It was like a fluffier version of a Jedi robe, and Obi-Wan was grateful that Jango gave it to him. Perhaps that was why he was okay with sitting next to Jaster and Jango, although he wasn’t quite sure how he ended up there. Mawat was still deciding where he and Rani were going to sit. His copper eyes turned towards Obi-Wan, only to pause when he saw that there was no space.

Rani was balancing on her crutches, smiling happily as her Striil puppy sat on her shoulder. Rani’s large brown eyes widened with delight when she spotted Bihes.

“Mawat, over there! I want to sit next to Bihes.” Rani tugged on Mawat’s sleeve, pointing at the Baar'ur.

Mawat glanced at where Rani was pointing. Bihes was currently a cheerful yellow as they sat at the table with their Clawdite riduur, Navik. Their toddler was busy chewing on a pacifier, trying to copy her buir’s skin color and ending up as a murky orange.

Mawat frowned as he stared. “Rani. Bihes is sitting with their family; we can’t just go and be with them right now.”

“Yes, we can!” Rani demanded.

Bihes, who had overheard the conversation, shared a glance with Navik before gesturing at Mawat and Rani. “Gedet'ye, come and sit with us. There is room for both of you.”

Mawat slowly came over with Rani, uncertainty in his eyes. Rani was almost bouncing with excitement. Navik shifted to make room for Mawat and Rani, one arm holding the birik'ad strapped across his chest. Rani plopped herself down next to Bihes’s toddler, placing the Striil puppy in her lap. Mawat sat down next to her after noticing that Obi-Wan was sitting across from him.

“This is Rani and Mawat, Bris.” Bihes told their daughter.

Bris looked at Rani with curiosity, eyes settling on Rani’s cast. Rani paused, confidence suddenly melting away. She turned to Mawat for assistance.

Mawat took a breath. “Su cuy’gar, Bris.”

Bris waved happily at the two of them, mumbling around the pacifier in her mouth. Bihes reached over and removed it, chuckling.

“Su cuy’gar, ner vod.” Bris giggled.

Rani’s smile quickly returned to her face. The tension in Mawat’s shoulders eased.

Deila was with Qar and Khi Dro, watching Voyd with wide dark grey eyes as he described flying with his jetpack. Joli and Cerasi sat on either side of Oje, both snickering at Ronnei. Ronnei had the bright idea to eat her food while she sat in Matru’s lap. Obi-Wan had expected Matru to protest at this. However, the Zabrak didn’t even bat an eyelid at it.

‘This is like the mealtimes in the Jedi Temple.’ Obi-Wan noted as he spooned porridge in his mouth.

The memory tugged at the corners of his mouth, lifting them up in a smile. Creche-Master Vant watching as they ate the food from the communal kitchens. Reeft always snagging leftovers, Bant fretting over how much Obi-Wan ate, Quinlan and Garen arguing over who gets the last cookie, Aalto burning his tongue on the tea, Siri rolling her eyes at their manners, and Bruck...

Obi-Wan lowered the spoon back down into his bowl of porridge. The mere thought of Bruck had brought forth a twisted, angry knot of feelings that he didn’t know how to deal with. And if he was honest, he didn’t want to deal with it.

Bruck had bullied him ever since they were younglings in the Jedi Temple. Bruck gave him that awful nickname. Bruck even dueled with Obi-Wan over Qui-Gon. However, Obi-Wan had won that duel, both literally and figuratively. Qui-Gon had become his Master, even though that had not been a good thing. Bruck couldn’t bully a Padawan. That’s why Bruck had stopped his relentless teasing because Obi-Wan had done something that he could not.

His Striil puppy stirred from its spot on his lap, pawing at his right arm lazily. Obi-Wan smiled and fed it a piece of food from the table.

‘How exactly am I supposed to think of someone that used to bully me so relentlessly? Just because Bruck stopped doesn’t mean he won’t start again. And he is really nothing more than a kriffing coward,’ Obi-Wan thought dismissively. ‘There’s no way I’m going to spend time thinking about someone I’m never going to see again anyway.’

“Obi-Wan,” Mawat called out, breaking him from his thoughts.

“Hm? Yeah, what is it?” Obi-Wan asked, lifting his gaze to meet Mawat.

Mawat waved at Obi-Wan’s bowl. “I’ve never seen you eat that much.” He stated dryly.

Obi-Wan glanced at him and then back down at his bowl of porridge, a flush creeping up onto his face. “I’ve only eaten half of it.’ He protested.

Deila snorted as she accepted a tea drink from Khi Dro. “Only half? We used to have to convince you to eat food. I’d say half is pretty good.”

Nield scoffed. “You forgot to add in all those toppings you’ve piled on top. And I’m fairly certain that is your second or third cup of tea.”

“I’m just enjoying all these flavors,” Obi-Wan huffed good-naturally.

Mawat looked down at his own untouched bowl, hesitation clear in his gaze. “What... exactly is this stuff you’re eating anyway?”

“Go on and try it, Mawat, it’s porridge,” Obi-Wan prodded. “I used to eat something similar all the time back at the Temple.”

Mawat gave him a suspicious glance and then returned his gaze to the bowl in front of him. “It looks like mud.”

“Goopy mud.” Rani cheerfully agreed.

The young girl was swirling her spoon around in the porridge, captivated by the rivers of milk trailing behind.

Obi-Wan wrinkled his nose at the bits of porridge that Rani had spilled onto the table.

“You ate this food at the Temple?” Cerasi asked, interest sparkling in her eyes. The spoon in her hands held a bit of porridge. She was taking tiny bites of it, slowly savoring each bite.

“I’ve eaten porridge at the Temple, but this stuff here isn’t the same. It’s thicker and sweeter. Also, we didn’t have all these toppings.” Obi-Wan gestured at the lavender fruit slices, the small thin discs of bread, and the odd-looking pieces of meat.

Delia gave Mawat a look. “Why are you nervous about eating this anyway? We’ve eaten worse stuff than this.”

“I’m not nervous.” Mawat sighed before gripping his spoon tightly, dipping the spoon into the porridge, and quickly taking a bite. His eyebrows rose up in surprise, and he leaned back, thoughtful. “Huh. It’s lovely.”

Deila stopped slurping her tea drink long enough to peer at Ronnei. “Kriff Ronnei, slow down before you choke. The food’s not going anywhere this time.”

Ronnei, who had created a little mountain of the lavender fruit slices on top of her porridge, looked up from her messy eating. “This stuff tastes amazing! What is it called?”

Obi-Wan glanced over at Jaster and Jango, tilting his head.

“Boiled meal grain,” Jango said with a snort. “Arla loves this stuff.”

Jaster smiled at Obi-Wan’s curiosity. “These fruit slices are Varos fruit from Manda’yaim.”

Obi-Wan’s eyebrows rose, and he took one of the Varos slices in his hands, examining the fruit. “Wow...” He muttered softly, intrigued.

Joli, who hadn’t wanted any porridge, looked up from the protein shake in his hands. “Does this have Varos fruit in it?"

Cerasi glanced over at Joli. “I think Obi-Wan said that one was ‘strawberry."

Joli was examining the protein shake with a thoughtful gaze. “Strawberry flavored, you say?”

Oje smiles warmly at Joli. “You can put some on your finger if you wish, ad'ika.”

Joli squeezes the plastic bag, fixated on the thick shake pouring onto his finger. He placed the finger in his mouth, head tilting at the sweet taste.

“Oh.” Joli breathed before squeezing out a bit more onto his tongue.

“Manners, Joli,” Obi-Wan groaned softly. “We’re guests.”

Cerasi snorted. “Good luck with that. Nield’s already eating all the toppings in his reach.”

Nield shot Cerasi a glare as he chewed on the small discs of bread. One hand was sneaking bites of the bread down to Cuyan. “Shut up.” He muttered through a mouthful of bread.

Jaster, who had been watching all of this with sparkling silver eyes, fondly shook his head. “Haili cetare, adi’ka.” 

To Obi-Wan, he said warmly. "Just wait till we introduce him to uj'alayi cake."

Obi-Wan snorted, then giggled, covering his smile with his hand. He was only slightly taken aback at how quickly he’d picked up Mando’a. Nield’s face flushed with good humor, and he gave a quiet ‘hmph.’ Then he went back to feeding Cuyan.

Rani giggled at Mawat, who was stacking the bread discs like a child would with crackers.

Nield raised an eyebrow at Mawat. “What are you doing?”

Mawat shrugged, copper eyes bright. “Rani and Bris like my tower.”

Bris and Rani were indeed watching with fascination as Mawat stacked the tower ever higher.

Deila snickered and lifted up one of the thin bread discs. “Iisa likes these things as well. What is it called?”

“Haashun. Bread that is used in our food rations. One of the first foods adiiks get to learn how to cook.” Jango answered.

Joli glanced at the bread with interest. “Oh, really?”

Ronnei stared at the bread, and then she looked back at Matru shyly. “...Will you teach me how to make the Haashun bread?”

“Lek.” Matru said gently, a crack in his voice.

The Zabrak brushed a forearm over his eyes, wiping at his face quickly. Obi-Wan hid a smirk behind the palm of his hand at the sight of the Mando’ade getting emotional over teaching a child.

Nield stared at Ronnei and Matru, something unreadable in his gaze. He then turned over, glancing at Mawat and Rani sitting with Bihes’s aliit. The corners of his mouth turned downwards briefly before he forced it into the same blank expression he had worn back on Meldia/Daan.

Cuyan gave a low whine and gently headbutted against Nield’s knee. Nield petted him absently.

“Nield?” Obi-Wan asked. “Are you okay?”

Nield glanced at Obi-Wan, wiping a hand across his face. “M’fine.”

“No, you are not, don’t lie to me, Nield,” Obi-Wan frowned at Nield, crossing his arms. “Tell me what is wrong.”

“Maybe Nield doesn’t want to say it in front of everybody here,” Jaster gently pointed out.

Obi-Wan lowered his arms, looking abashed.

Nield swallowed before saying very softly. “...I’d also like to learn how to cook.”

“Absolutely,” Matru promised.

Nield stared at Matru with dark blue eyes, and then he quickly looked away, rubbing one elbow awkwardly. He leaned down to give Cuyan a scratch on the head.

Cerasi looked at Obi-Wan and then stood up from the table. “Come on, Nield, Obi-Wan. Let’s go look at the stars.”

Nield stared at Cerasi, frowning. “What are you-”

Obi-Wan caught the hint and gestured at Nield, lifting his Striil puppy up onto his shoulder. “Come along Nield. It will be like old times.”

Nield’s mouth twitched slightly, and he gathered Cuyan in his arms, trailing after his two friends. “Alright.”

<><><>

They sat in front of one of the observation windows, petting their Striils, waiting for Nield to speak. It was similar to the long nights on Meldia/Daan, where they would be on guard. Except here, they were safe.

Obi-Wan pressed a palm against the glass, slowly taking in the massive stretch of stars. He had been flying among them his whole life, first as a toddler traveling from Stewjon, then as a youngling on field trips with his creche. Even with Qui-Gon, he had traveled in space often. Had he ever just sat and stared at them? Admired the potential they held, the promise of adventure? Perhaps back when he was a youngling. Obi-Wan smiled as he observed the stars, feeling oddly at peace.

“Nield,” Cerasi said. “You’re making a face again.”

Obi-Wan glanced at Nield, head tilting at Nield’s worried expression. “What is it?”

Nield sighed and folded his own arms, hunching over slightly. “No, it’s fine. I just... I don’t know what I am anymore.”

Cerasi blinked. “You’re Nield.”

“You are our friend,” Obi-Wan added.

Nield shrugged. “Yeah. But I am no longer the leader of the Young. Now I am just a thirteen-year-old boy. And somehow that’s scarier than being a leader.”

“How so?” Obi-Wan frowned.

Nield’s dark blue eyes looked up at Obi-Wan. “For the first time ever, I can choose what I want to be as an adult. And I can’t decide. What else could I be other than what I used to be? If I’m not a leader fighting for peace, then what?”

“Anything,” Obi-Wan said fiercely. “Whatever you think is best. Just because you used to be one thing doesn’t mean you can’t become something else.”

Nield’s eyes narrowed. “Even if it was a Mando’ade?”

Obi-Wan blinked. Folding his hands together, he sat quietly for a moment, staring at Nield. Swallowing, he softly asked. “Do you want to be a Mando’ade?”

Nield’s posture softened, surprise on his face. “Are you okay with that idea?”

Obi-Wan petted his Striil, drawing the cloak closer to him. “... I’m not sure. Clearly, the information that I thought was correct turned out to be false. Some of the things that I said about them also have turned out to be rather unfair.”

Cerasi sighed, leaning a cheek against the window. “That’s not fair, Obi-Wan. You were scared; we all were scared. And that was all the information we had at that point.”

Nield shook his head at Cerasi. “When you and I first met, we were scared of each other. In fact, if I recall correctly, we nearly fought. Imagine what could have happened if we didn’t talk each other down.”

Obi-Wan raised his chin up, a determined look in his eyes. “Well, I’m not scared of the Mando’ade anymore. I haven’t been for quite a while now. And furthermore, I’m not scared of saying that I was wrong.”

Cuyan pointedly curled up against Nield’s chest, snorting softly. Nield stroked Cuyan’s back with one finger, shaking his head. “Once we arrive at a spaceport, we are going to have to choose if we stay or leave. And for the life of me, I can’t decide whether or not I want to become a Mando’ade. Or if I want to separate from the younger ones.”

Obi-Wan shrugged. “It’s not our only option.”

“What are you going to be then?” Nield asked. “Who do you wish to become?”

Obi-Wan straightened. “I want to serve the Force. I want to be with all of you. I want to care for this Striil puppy that I have now.”

He hugged the Striil, and it licked his chin. 

“Can someone serve the Force and not be a Jedi?” Nield wondered quietly.

Obi-Wan looked away, holding the Striil tighter. For the first time in his life, Obi-Wan wasn’t sure. He reached out to the Force, and it enveloped him comfortingly. The strength that he had lost was growing back day by day. He felt peace wash over him once again, the kind of peace that mediating used to bring.

“Maybe,” Obi-Wan said. “Maybe they can. I haven’t seen anyone do that, though.”

“Well, here’s the question that we are going to have to consider. Is there anything wrong with being a Mando’ade?” Cerasi asked carefully. “And if not... Should we take the opportunity that is in front of us?”

Obi-Wan pressed his lips together, placing his fist underneath his chin.

“Jaster is right. It is our choice and our choice alone,” He said slowly. “And Jango is right. What we have now is the closest thing to an aliit that any one of us has ever had. So whatever we decide, we should choose what would be best for all of us. After all, the truth is, I don’t want to separate from any of you.”

Nield smiled. “The feeling’s mutual.”

Cerasi sighed. "So then I guess we will have to ask. What is it like being a Mando'ade?"

<><><>

“They can see us over here.” Kad said quietly as he stared at the hologram message playing over Bruck’s shoulder.

Bruck ignored Master Qui-Gon’s discussion with Xanatos and simply patted Kad’s arm. “Qui-Gon wants Xanatos to see us. We’re the bait that is going to make Xanatos drop what he is doing and come to get us.”

Kad drew closer, almost climbing onto Bruck’s lap. His lip quivered as he huddled next to Bruck. Bruck held him tightly. Kad was young, frightened, and so he clung to Bruck. And Bruck did everything he could think of to calm his brother despite the fact that they were in trouble.

“What about Papa?” Kad questioned. “Papa is the treasurer of Telos Four. He has to be able to do something. Why isn’t he doing anything to save us, Bruck?”

Bruck chanced a glance back at the hologram. He saw the tall figure of Xanatos, the broken circle scar burned into one cheek, the menacing eyes.

He shivered, suddenly cold. “I don’t think there’s much Papa can do right now. Xanatos is a Sith.”

“Xanatos is on his side.” Kad said again, this time with less conviction.

“No. Papa is obeying what Xanatos says. There’s a difference. The only reason Xanatos even gives a kriff if Qui-Gon has us is because of Papa’s status.” Bruck gritted his teeth.

One look at Xanatos’s smug face and Bruck had a sinking feeling that Xanatos had no intention of keeping the two of them alive.

Kad’s ice-blue eyes flickered back to Bruck’s face. “You’re going to protect me, though, right? With your crazy Jedi magic?”

Bruck felt the edges of a smile creeping onto his face. “With every ounce of power I got, I’ll use it to keep you safe. You are my brother, after all.”

Kad’s pale face glanced at the hologram then back at Bruck. “I’m actually scared of Xanatos.”

Bruck’s fingers gently combed through his brother’s long white hair. “Me too. Don’t worry, though. We have the Force on our side. We’ll escape before anything happens, I promise.”

“Papa wouldn’t let us get hurt,” Kad whimpered. “And once he knows that you are okay, he will try to get you back.”

“Papa gave me to the Temple,” Bruck answered back tiredly. “I wasn’t stolen.”

“They wouldn’t let him see you. Or talk to you. Did you even know that he wanted to see you?” Kad demanded.

“No,” Bruck sighed. “I didn’t know.”

“Xanatos was stolen from his father by the Jedi. He told Papa that.” Kad said.

“What else did he tell Papa?” Bruck asked.

“That his father regretted letting him go as much as Papa regrets letting you go,” Kad answered, frowning. He stared at Bruck with huge sad eyes. “But if you weren’t stolen, why did you never visit? Didn’t you want to see me?”

Bruck held Kad tighter, trying to search for words. Guilt ran through his chest. Bruck had been far too focused on other things to worry about the baby brother he had left behind.

‘This warm feeling that I have now, would it have stayed with me if I had visited my family?’ He couldn’t help but wonder.

“I couldn’t visit you,” Bruck said at last. “But I should have. If, when we get out of this. Once I find Obi-Wan and get him back to the Temple, I’ll make sure that I can visit you from now on.”

“You don’t want to live with us?” Kad asked.

“The Temple is my home. I have a family there that would miss me just as much,” Bruck cupped Kad’s cheek gently. “But you are just as important as they are. I can have two families that I care about equally.”

“Promise that you will visit me from now on,” Kad gripped onto Bruck’s robes tightly. “I don’t want to lose you again.”

“Promise.” Bruck nodded reassuringly. He hugged Kad again.

“Save them,” A nervous voice drifted from the hologram. “Don’t let Master Qui-gon hurt them.”

The voice was eerily familiar, almost like it came from a dream. Bruck turned back to the hologram and was startled by the appearance of an old man hunched over, fear written all over his face.

“Don’t hurt my children,” The old hunched man pleaded, twisting his hands together. White hair dangled in strands over red-rimmed ice blue eyes. “Please, don’t hurt my children.”

Bruck stiffened, his jaw falling open. The old man in front of him was a far cry from the proud man that Bruck remembered. “Is that...?”

“Papa!” Kad cried out at the sight of the hologram. “Papa, come here. Bruck is here. He's is okay. I finally got to see Bruck!”

Vox Chun winced as though he had been struck. Master Qui-Gon and Xanatos looked over at where the two children sat. Vox glanced away from Master Qui-Gon to look at Kad... and his eyes widened at the sight of Bruck.

“Bruck?” He gasped as if the air had been taken from his lungs.

Bruck took in a steadying breath. “Hello, Papa.”

Several different emotions were running through Bruck; Shock, joy, sadness, anger. What had happened to his father that changed him from a proud man into this? All of Vox’s speeches about being strong, about protecting one’s family by being tough... And here he was, begging two Sith not to hurt his children.

Vox’s eyes were filled with fear. “Are you... Are you alright? Are you safe?”

It was a pointless question, they were most definitely not alright or safe. However, Bruck raised his chin. “I’m going to keep Kad safe. I promise.”

Kad turned and wrapped his small arms around Bruck’s elbow. “And I’m going to keep Bruck safe!”

Bruck placed a protective arm around Kad, patting him on the back.

“Master Qui-Gon is going to the nearest space station to hand both of you over. And in exchange, Xanatos will fight him. It’s going to be okay.” Vox said, twisting his hands together. Vox clearly didn’t believe what he was saying. But what other option did Bruck’s father have?

“Papa,” Bruck started, then he took in another breath. He looked his father in the eye, hoping that he conveyed some amount of reassurance. “I’m going to keep my baby brother safe.”

Vox closed his eyes, and then Bruck could see the grief etched into his father’s face. Vox hung his head helplessly. “I never meant for this to happen, Bruck.”

“I know,” Bruck sighed. “Neither did I.”

Chapter Text

“Haar’chak. This report is so boring,” Arla slumped forward in the chair, tossing the flimsi data-pad onto the library’s table. “How can Adonai stand all of this bickering back and forth?”

“Welcome to diplomats,” Jango snorted from where he had stretched out on a chair like a Striil, the holo-book on his lap. “Be glad that you’re not the one that has to talk to them. Or listen for that matter.”

“I’d go crazy listening to all that,” Arla groaned, thumping her head onto the table overdramatically. “Not to insult all of Adonai’s hard work, but why do we need to look over the Republic’s political debates again?”

“There’s always useful information to find in debates such as these,” Jaster gave his ad a small smile as he looked up from the paperwork. “As unfortunately mind-numbingly boring and self-congratulatory as the Republic political debates can be.”

Arla lifted her head to give her buir an annoyed look. “What sort of useful information could we get out of whether or not gambling should be a legal activity in the Republic anyway? Kriff, have you seen how many casinos Coruscant has?”

“Believe it or not, there are some politicians that think they can control the black market trade that goes on in the casinos, twist it into their favor. They haven’t been paying attention to their surroundings; everybody else had the same idea already.” Jango scoffed.

“Ori'buyce, kih'kovid.” Arla stated, grimacing.

“Exactly. However, it is also a reaction to the whole gambling situation on Telos Four.” Jaster folded his hands together, feeling the familiar thrill of teaching even if his adiik were now grown-up.

“The stuff on Telos Four isn’t gambling,” Jango rolled his eyes in disgust. “When everyone who is friends to the Telosian treasurer wins and those against him fail, anyone with a brain realizes the system is rigged.”

“Which is why anyone who doesn’t have mir'osik should be concerned. Is Vox Chun the only one benefiting here, or is there a secondary figure using those funds? And if so, for what purpose?” Jaster sighed and pushed the paperwork aside. “So many questions and so few answers. It’s enough to make one’s head spin.”

“Why is this important to us, though? If slaves are involved, then we’d better go and take care of that real quick. But if not, then don’t we have bigger concerns right now, especially after Korda 6?” Arla asked, her brow furrowing.

“It’s because of Korda 6 that we are looking into the situation on Telos IV, Arla. What if it’s a Dar’jetti that is getting the credits from the rigged gambling system? Or a Hutt that will provide funding for Kyr’stad?” Jango shook his head angrily. “Haatyc or'arue jate'shya ori'sol aru'ike nuhaatyc.”

“Indeed,” Jaster agreed. “Which is why we need to unite before anyone else can try and splinter us apart. Especially with what might be up ahead.”

“We’ll be ready for it.” Arla promised, holding her head up high. 

“You are right. We will.” Jaster smiled back.

“How much left do you have to do?” Jango asked curiously, head tilting. There is something mischievous glinting in those black eyes.

Jaster raised an eyebrow. He knows that look, Jango is planning something. The way Arla grins and leans forward, she’s in on it too.

“No funny pranks,” Jaster tried and failed to keep the chuckle out of his voice. “The Manda’lor doesn’t need to have glitter and paint on his beskar’gam during the meeting.”

“Don’t worry, buir. You’ll like what we’ve got planned,” Jango smiled brightly. “I just can’t wait to see Obi-Wan’s face once he sees the surprise Arla and I have for him.”

“Once I finish talking to my commandos, I’ll be able to come to see the surprise.” Jaster promised, something warm squeezing in his chest.

<><><>

“You like Oje’s garden, don’t you, Cerasi?” Joli’s voice came in from behind her shoulder as he came to stand nearby.

Cerasi looked up into his grinning face as she knelt in front of Oje’s flowers. “Well, yeah, I mean, I’ve never seen plant-life like this before. Just look at this flower here, it’s pink! I didn’t know that flowers could even be pink.”

It was surprising how relaxed Cerasi became around the vibrant plants. Even though she had visited this garden several times now, Cerasi was still in awe of the greenery. Although, considering the role that the flowers played in her life on Melida/Daan, perhaps it wasn’t a surprise that she adored them.

Joli glanced at the flower, snorting as Cerasi reached out to touch it. “You look like Obi-Wan back when he used to tell us about the gardens in the Jedi Temple.”

Cerasi's smile was soft as she cradled the pink flower between her hands. “He described the Temple gardens as a place where he found peace. Now I think I understand that feeling.”

“When the others join up with us, we’ll have to ask Obi-Wan to describe the Temple gardens again,” Joli looked thoughtful. “I wonder if some of the plants here are also in the Jedi Temple.”

“Possibly, that would be cool. But I thought Obi-Wan was with us. Where did he go?” Cerasi asked, looking up at Joli.

“Well yeah, he was, but then Obi-Wan went off somewhere with his Striil because he wanted to ‘go and do something important.’ So there are only three of us here. Delia’s with Oje, they’re busily trying to see if they can find any plants from Manda’yaim,” Joli pointed behind them causally. “Ronnei and Nield went off with Matru to go and bake bread a while ago.”

“Huh. I guess that says something if we are all willing to leave each other in separate rooms now,” Cerasi smirked. “At least with the Striil puppies, we don’t have to worry about being alone.”

She grinned at her Striil puppy. “Isn’t that right, Sarad?”

Joli rolled his eyes. “Why am I not surprised that you named your puppy ‘flower’?”

“Probably because Deila named hers 'Fuse',” Cersai giggled. “I can’t wait to see what Obi-Wan names his.”

“If he names it after the Force, I swear I’m going to facepalm.” Joli groaned, shaking his head.

Then Cerasi noticed Deila and her Striil puppy slowly coming over, something bright and colorful in her hands. Cerasi tilted her head, picking up how suspiciously bright and wet Deila’s eyes were. “Is... Is Deila crying?”

“What? Deila, why would she be crying?” Joli glanced over his shoulder, worriedly.

Cerasi started up and walked quickly over to Deila. “What’s wrong?” She demanded.

Deila snorted and wiped an arm across her face. “Happy tears, these are happy kriffing tears, Cerasi. Look, you know I’m not good with this. Just... Here take it.”

Deila pushed what looked to be many tiny flowers growing comfortably in a flower pot into Cerasi’s hands.

“Oh well, thanks, Deila, but what is...” Cerasi paused as she took a closer look at the flowers. “Wait. Deila, these are...”

Tears pricked the corners of Cerasi’s pale green eyes as she stared down at the tightly closed buds of white, yellow, and blue flowers.

Joli looked over Cerasi’s shoulder and gasped softly. “The seeds... They grew?”

“Yeah.” Deila nodded, brushing away the wet trails on her face.

“I’m glad they’ve grown,” Joli said softly. “Now we get to have them again.”

“Oje showed me that they were about to bloom. She’s been looking after the seeds ever since I gave them to Rani,” Deila nodded, sniffing. “I’m going to give the others flower pots too, especially Rani, she was so eager for the flowers. But Cerasi, since they are your namesake, and they mean so much to you, I wanted to give you your flowers first.”

Cerasi pressed her lips together as the tears fell down her cheeks. Her chin trembled with emotion as she tried to say something, anything, to describe how much this means. She settled on wrapping Deila in a tight one-armed hug.

Deila squeezed her back, her voice cracking. “Hey, we got to have something from where we came from, right? Even if it’s nothing more than a little plant.”

“It is so much more than a plant,” Joli quickly countered. “It’s one of the few beautiful things that came from our home planet. It’s a part of us. It’s part of the Young.”

“Vor'e,” Cerasi choked out. “Vor’e, Deila. I... I can’t tell you how much this means.”

“You don’t need to. I can see it on your face. ” Deila grinned, eyes sparkling.

Cerasi drew back, wiping a hand at her face. “I’ll be sure to put this somewhere safe. Wait till Obi-Wan sees this.”

Deila laughed, quickly gaining back her usual fire. “Wait till Rani sees it. Since they are taking off the cast, she’ll practically be bouncing with joy.”

“She better not. That leg of hers is still healing.” Joli snorted. “Probably be safer to give them to her when she’s sitting down.”

Cerasi reached out and very gently touched her namesake’s leaves. They were just as vibrant as Oje’s plants. Cerasi hugged the flower pot to her chest, bowing her head. She felt so happy it almost felt like it was going to hurt. She never knew somebody could be this happy.

<><><>

Bukur laid its chin on top of Jaster’s elbow as he sat in the library with his four commandos, finishing up their council. When Jaster ignored Bukur in favor of signing his name on at least one more report, Bukur pointedly nudged its snout onto his hand until he petted it.

‘So what is left for us to discuss?” Jaster asked, taking a data-pad from Khi Dro.

“The upcoming meeting with the clan leaders and the trip that I’m going to be making, ‘Alor,'' Yonsel answered with a sigh. “Some of the clan leaders are concerned if there is going to be a war with the Dar’jetti. It seems inevitable now that they have teamed up with Kyr’stad.”

Jaster touched the spot on his head where the lump used to be, grimacing. The horrendous aftermath of Korda 6 was that they were stuck facing an attack from two very dangerous groups. There were decisions that Jaster had to make, bearing the knowledge that one wrong choice could send them crashing down.

The one thing that they couldn’t ignore was the fact that they almost lost on Korda 6 and Jaster almost died.

“Have you informed the clan leaders of the meeting?”’ Jaster asked as he scrolled down the contents of the data-pad.

“Lek, the meeting will take place either today or tomorrow, depends on which is more convenient,” Umuth replied quickly. “We’ll be able to split off after the meeting, allowing you and the others to head off to your next destination. After that, it’s simply a matter of whenever Skirata and Yonsel want to head off.”

Jaster glanced at Yonsel. The Dathomiran had taken off her buy’ce, revealing a pale white face and the black tattoos lining her golden eyes.

“How are things going with your two adiik?” He asked gently.

“They are eager to go and revisit Dathomir. It should be a fun time for them, going and interacting with everybody,” Yonsel stared down at the holo-map with a tired expression, determination in her stance. “We’re lucky that Mother Talzin made an exception for us.”

“And yet, you are troubled.” Jaster observed quietly.

Her Striil stretched up onto its hind legs, nudging her hand until she stroked its neck. The hard line of Yonsel’s shoulders sagged. “Despite our efforts, I still have no idea where the adiik she traded off have gone. No matter how hard I look... it’s like they just vanished into thin air.”

“She didn’t trade them off. I know it seems like that’s what she did,” Jaster made his voice firm but soft, sympathy welling in his chest. “But there’s a difference between giving your adiik away willingly and having them stolen out from under your nose. And those adiik were stolen, no doubt.”

“We wouldn’t have lost the two of them if she hadn’t dealt with those Ge'hutuun.” Yonsel said.

“What use is there in arguing about whose fault it is?” Qar asked. “What matters is finding them and making sure that they are okay. Which is one of the reasons you are going out there anyway.”

Yonsel sighed, relenting as she crossed her arms together. “Alright.”

Then she paused and tilted her head at Jaster. “'Alor, there’s something... personal that I’ve been considering.”

Yonsel stopped, discreetly glancing at Khi Dro and Qar, giving them the chance to tell her to stop. They both remain silent, watching as Jaster gestures for her to continue.

“The weapon you got after Korda 6... could it be beneficial to Obi-Wan in any way?” Yonsel asked.

“The Darksaber?” Jaster was slightly taken aback at the mention of the ancient weapon. He took it off from his belt, holding the kad in one palm. The dark metal hilt gleamed in the blueish light from the holo-map as he turned it over in his fingers. “How so?”

“Haar’chak, how do I describe this? In the past, several of the Ru’dinad from other clans had claimed that they could ‘feel’ something from the Darksaber when they touched it. Something about the kyber crystal inside sending them feelings and sensations,” Yonsel explained. “And there’s a reason that the Jetti have been using kyber crystals all this time. What if this is something he needs?”

“But every single one senses something different from the Darksaber, and not all of them were positive,” Umuth countered. “What if he senses something negative from it? Then what?”

Yonsel’s facial tattoos wrinkled as she frowned. “That is why I am asking the question. I know nearly nothing of Jetti ways and the Force, only that a few people with the same ability in our own culture felt something positive from the Darksaber. I don’t know how to tell if this is something that would hurt Obi-Wan or help him.”

Jaster frowned as he leaned to stroke Bukur’s back, his eyes staring down at the Darksaber. “I suppose that’s the question we will have to face at some point, isn’t it? If Obi-Wan decides to remain with us, how will we be able to make sure that we can provide what a Cabur’jetti gives their Jetti adiik? We’re flying in the dark here about the Force.”

“Couldn’t we ask one of the Ru’dinad to come and help us if we ended up having Obi-Wan in our clan?” Umuth ventured.

“Don’t forget there’s the likelihood that we will end up in a war with the Dar’jetti and Kyr’stad,” Qar answered. “That is going to affect things whether we like it or not.”

“Something for us to consider. As for the Darksaber, let me think about it,” Jaster decided, standing from the table and placing the blade back onto his belt. “If we are certain that it would be something good for him, then that’s something we can offer.”

<><><>

Half an hour later, Jaster found himself in front of his desk again, finally reaching the end of the workload. He had saved the best for last. Now there was nothing left but mindless paperwork. Osik, was he worn out.

There was a soft knocking at the door to Jaster’s office, the sound driving him from his thoughts. Jaster turned his head away from the desk, frowning as he glanced at the doorway. It was strange, the way that person was knocking at the door. It was very polite, almost formal.

Something that none of the Mando’ade would have bothered with, knowing that they could give a short tap, and he’d answer.

If it were one of his commandos, they would have used the comms. If it were Jango or Arla, then they would have just walked in. The spot where his bandages used to be send a twinge of pain as he moved up from the desk. For the briefest of moments, his brain allowed the thought that maybe this was another assassination attempt. That this time the Dar’jetti sent an assassin that knew better than to join up with Kyr’stad and was using the kriffing Force to sneak on board and finish him off.

Then just as quickly, Jaster gave a shake of his head and pushed the di’kut thought out of his mind. Having reactions like this to oddities was going to be something he would have to deal with, another remnant from Korda 6.

Bukur jumped down from the desk and began to paw at the door. Jaster smoothed out the frown as he walked, reaching the door in a few strides. Once he opened the door, however, his paternal instincts flared up in alarm.

Obi-Wan was standing in front of the door, one hand poised to knock at the door once more. It looked like Obi-Wan was clutching at his head with the other in some sort of white-knuckled death grip. His Striil puppy was coiled around his shoulders, doing its best to reassure him. Then with a closer look, Jaster could see that Obi-Wan was holding something near the right of his head, just above the shoulder.

‘His Padawan braid.’ Jaster realized with a jolt.

The Padawan braid was gripped tightly in one fist, almost as if Obi-Wan let go, someone would rip it away. Jaster had spent far too many nights with both Arla and Jango to spend time wondering why Obi-Wan was in front of his office.

He simply knelt in front of the boy and asked softly. “Obi-Wan. What’s going on? Are you okay?”

“S-sorry to bother you,” Obi-Wan said, looking embarrassed and uncertain. “But I think I’m having another panic attack. My chest feels really tight. I’m not sure, though. I don’t want to break something again. You were able to help the first time so-.”

Jaster nodded at Obi-Wan, slowly reaching out a hand for him to grasp. “Udesii, Obi’ika. You’re okay. It’s going to be alright. K'atini. Calm, slow deep breaths that will help your chest relax. It doesn’t matter if this is a panic attack or not, you’re very stressed, and that’s not good for anyone, Force powers or not.”

Obi-Wan slowly sat down cross-legged, his hand curled around Jaster’s, inhaling and exhaling as slow as he could. Bukur crawled onto his lap, purring loudly. Obi-Wan’s Striil puppy soon copied the older Striil and started purring as well.
Obi-Wan’s death grip on the braid loosened at Jaster’s words, and then the hand fell away as Obi-Wan allowed the muscles in his body to relax.

Jaster acknowledged the rush of protectiveness at those words as he shifted into a sitting position. The Mando’ade in him wanted to do what any true Mando’ade would, gather the adiik up and promise to take care of them from now on.

It was the same warm feeling he had so long ago for Jango, back when they first met. That moment where six-year-old Jango ended up cowering in Jaster’s arms, trembling as he came to terms with the fact that his aliit was dead and he just killed a man.
Or when Arla had clung to him after one of her nightmares, using him as reassurance that she wasn’t back there. Now, Obi-Wan wanted Jaster to help him, even if Jaster didn’t have the same ability to use the Force.

“Okay... Okay, I think... I think I’m going to be okay.” Obi-Wan breathed, the tension visibly bleeding away.

Jaster nodded again, concern lingering on his face. “Do you have any idea what stressed you out so bad?”

Obi-Wan’s voice was small and uncomfortable. “It’s just... Well...”

He grabbed something from his ragged Jedi robes, holding it out to Jaster. The starship's lights glinted off the scissor blades in the palm of his hand. “I wanted to cut off my Padawan braid. But I couldn’t do it, I tried and I tried, but I just couldn’t do it.”

Jaster took in a deep, steady breath. “Oh. I see.”

The Padawan braid was important and held emotional significance. But was it okay for Obi-Wan to want to remove it? Should he? Jaster hated the fact that he did not have the proper answers. He glanced at the Padawan braid as he thought of what to say next. It was small and short, ginger hair intricately woven and shaped.

Obi-Wan caught his gaze and smiled a bitter smile. “It’s supposed to signify my rank as Padawan. It’s a representation of the bond between Master and Padawan...”

Obi-Wan bowed his head, gritting his teeth and shoving the scissors aside. He reached that hand towards Jaster’s, and Jaster took the small fingers in his palm, squeezing both of Obi-Wan’s hands tight.

“I don’t even know why I’m sad. I no longer have a Force bond with Qui-Gon, and I’m no longer his Padawan. I’m no longer a Jedi. Why am I crying?” Obi-Wan asked, a trace of frustration in his voice. He wiped angrily at his cheeks.

“Because you used to view Qui-Gon as your aliit,” Jaster answered softly. “But this isn’t just because of Qui-Gon. This is something more than that. This braid is one of the last things you have of your home, the place you grew up. It’s your identity. To cut the braid off means that you are turning your back on the culture that raised you. That is going to hurt, no matter what.”

Obi-Wan nodded sadly, shrugging helplessly. “It’s what I must do.”

“Is it?” Jaster asked.

“It’s no longer what I am,” Obi-Wan sniffed, blue green-grey eyes looking into his. “What’s the point of having it if it’s just going to be something that pains me?”

“Are you certain that you can’t find a way to attach a new meaning to it?” Jaster asked gently.

“How?" Obi-Wan sniffled, blinking up at Jaster.

Jaster hummed softly, tracing soothing circles on Obi-Wan’s hand with a calloused thumb. “Like I said. It is a part of you. It is entirely possible for you to take parts of your identity and attach new meaning to it. This braid can still represent a bond between you and your aliit, even if the ones in that aliit have changed.”

Obi-Wan stares at Jaster for a long moment, uncertain but earnest. “You mean the Young? Is that something I can even do?”

“Why not? There’s nothing that says you can’t shape this part of you into something beautiful. You may not be a Jetti anymore, but that doesn’t mean you should turn away the things that you grew up with.”
Obi-Wan nods and lets go of Jaster’s hand to reach up and touch the braid.

“I think... if we were to do that with the braid,” He ventures softly. “I’d want to change it up a little. Add something to it, y’know?”

Jaster gives him a nod, warm silver eyes gentle with understanding. “We can do whatever you want with it.” He promised. Then Jaster smiled warmly. “I’m certain if you ask Arla, she’d have a few ideas.”

Chapter Text

“Are you sure we should keep at this?” Mawat sighed, crossing his arms and glancing at Bihes.

“Lek! Yes, we should,” Rani glared at him petulantly from where she stood, catching her breath. She gritted her teeth against the weariness in her bones. “I’m going to do this. I want to do this. I want to keep trying to walk.”

“That doesn’t mean you should push yourself to exhaustion.” Bihes said, waiting patiently by Rani’s side, hands at the ready to catch her. Their skin was a calm, steady blue.

Rani’s hands flexed uselessly at her sides as she tried to keep walking without her crutches. She looked at Bihes. “You said that I’d have to do this a lot to learn how to walk again.”

“You’ve already tried several times.” Bihes reminded her gently.

Beside Rani's feet, her Striil sat watching her as she battled to remain upright all on her own. Its head tilted at her as it let out a soft whine, tail shifting side to side.

Cerasi waited a few feet ahead, shifting from foot to foot. Sarad sat calmly by her feet. It was very nice of Bihes and Navik to take time out of their personal lives to help with Rani's physical therapy, even though the two had young children to look after.

She looked over her shoulder, frowning thoughtfully at Oje. “Is this normal, Oje? Her going so slow?”

“Lek,” Oje affirmed, nodding at Cerasi warmly. “She hasn’t had to use her hurt leg all by herself very much for some time now. That is why we must encourage the muscles in her leg to get stronger. It’s part of the healing process. Things like these take time.”

“I know it’s going to take time, but I guess I thought with that cast off...” Cerasi waved a hand at Rani, trailing off weakly when Rani’s glare turned on her.

The young girl scowled. “I’m trying my best! I didn’t think it would be that hard to walk over to you.”

Mawat raised an eyebrow at Cerasi.

“Sorry, Rani, of course, you are trying hard. I’m just worried about you.” Cerasi sighed, looking away.

Mawat frowned and walked closer to where Rani was, placing a hand on her shoulder. “Can we just be done?”

“Let me try again. I can do this, Mawat.” Rani protested, pushing Mawat’s hand away from her shoulder. She wobbled unsteadily at the motion, and Bihes steadied her.

“Udesii, Ran’ika,” Bihes soothed softly. “I think we are going to take a break.”

“Obi-Wan’s been practicing with the Force for just as long, and he’s not tired. He doesn’t need a break.” Rani whined as she glanced over to where Obi-Wan sat.

He was in a traditional Jedi meditation position, legs crossed and hands folded. His eyes were closed as he focused on the Force, two toy balls laying in front of his feet. Mawat swallowed down an unhelpful trickle of unease at the sight of the third toy ball floating freely in the air above Obi-Wan’s head. Even with the knowledge that Obi-Wan was able to do things like that, it was still surprising to witness.

“Leave Obi-Wan alone, Rani. He’s trying to get stronger too.” Cerasi told her.

The toy ball dropped onto the floor. Obi-Wan shook his head slowly. He blinked several times before raising his head and looking at Cerasi. “I can take a break, too, y’know?”

Both Cerasi and Mawat stared at Obi-Wan before looking at each other. Rani finally relented and allowed Bihes to help her sit gently on the floor, crutches at her side. Her Striil itmeiditly crawled into her open lap. 

Mawat frowned. “I thought you couldn’t hear us while you were... I don’t know, ‘in there’?”

“Meditating,” Obi-Wan clarified. “I haven’t done enough of that of late. But you’re right. I couldn’t. I could, however, feel how frustrated you three were getting, and I wanted to help. It just takes a bit to get out of meditation.”

He stood up and smiled at Rani. “I’ll tell you about some of the dueling moves I learned at the Temple while you’re resting.”

Rani visibly brightened, looking intrigued. Then she tilted her head at him. “I want to see you do them. You used to do cool ones all the time.”

“We were fighting back then, Rani,” Cerasi said. “There isn’t anybody Obi-Wan has to fight here.”

“There are practice dummies that he could use.” Oje pointed out.

Bihes snorted with laughter. “If we drag those out, we’ll soon have a crowd in here.”

“You mean I might get to see you guys fight?” Rani asked, her large brown eyes growing bigger at the thought.

A spark of interest lit up in Mawat’s face, and he turned to glance at Bihes. “Could we? Please?”

Oje laughed and headed toward the doorway, shaking her head fondly. “Follow me, and I’ll show you where we keep them.”

Mawat ran after her, eagerness in his every step. His Striil bounded alongside his feet. Bihes settled down next to Rani, smirking slightly. Rani looked at Obi-Wan with excitement.

Obi-Wan grinned back and rolled his shoulders. “This’ll be fun.”

“Don’t hurt yourself.” Cerasi warned automatically without really thinking about it.

She almost wished she hadn’t spoken a moment later because this wasn’t someone who had to learn how to fight all on their own. Obi-Wan was someone who had lived with a bunch of adults that were safe practically all his life. He would know things like holding a knife properly or shooting a blaster pistol without hitting yourself.

Obi-Wan shrugged at Cerasi, patting her on the arm. “I have been trained since I was very young. I know what I’m doing, I promise.”

He paused then, a thought striking him. “If you or any of the others feel up to it, perhaps you should practice fighting as well. Maybe even duel with each other.”

Cerasi blinked at him, taken by surprise. “You think? Why?”

“It might feel pretty good.” Obi-Wan replied, and Cerasi scoffed.

“Why would it feel good? Fighting has never ever felt good.” She insisted sharply.

Sarad whined and pawed at her leg. Cerasi looked down, scooping it up into her arms. Only then did she realize how awful she was acting.

Obi-Wan’s eyes softened. “Sorry.”

“No, I’m sorry,” Cerasi groaned, rubbing at her face. “I don’t know what has gotten into me. I’d love to watch you against the practice dummy.”

Sarad licked her chin with a warm wet tongue. Something tight unwound in Cerasi's chest.

Obi-Wan nodded. “You’re frustrated. About what, I’m not quite sure. All I’m trying to say is that it would be easier if you could find a way to burn that off. I can tell you from experience that letting it fester isn’t a nice thing to feel.”

Cerasi nodded back with a sigh, worrying at her lip. Then she buried her face into Sarad's soft fur.

<><><>

“Go slower, Rani. This isn’t a race.” Nield chided.

He sat with his legs crossed, hands on his knees. His worried dark blue eyes followed Rani’s slow, wobbly footsteps as she crossed in front of him. Rani swayed from left to right. Her brow furrowed into a determined frown, and she tried to take another step. Her leg buckled. Navik caught her with swift hands, holding her gently.

Rani slumped, almost on the verge of tears. “Why can’t I do this?”

“K'atini, ad'ika. You got further than you did last time,” Navik said in a smooth, steady voice. “Keep at it, and soon you’ll be chasing me down the halls.”

Rani’s pout turned into a weak laugh at the idea Navik put forth.

“Now, here you go. Try again.” Navik encouraged, placing her steadily back on her feet.

Obi-Wan watched her as she moved along, each step being more confident than the last. This time, when she crossed in front of Nield, she didn’t fall, and he smiled.

“You’ll help me, Mawat, right?” Rani asked as she wobbled over to him slowly but surely.

Mawat tilted his head at her, helping her turn around so that she could wobble across the room over to where Cerasi eagerly waited. “Help you with what?”

“I want help with Obi-Wan and his hair,” Rani jerked her head towards the middle of the room where Obi-Wan sat with Deila behind him. “I don’t know how to put a bead in someone’s hair. And I want to be the first!”

“Oh, yes, of course, I’ll help, don’t worry,” Mawat said, holding in a chuckle. He sent a grin at Nield sitting in a corner with Joli and Ronnei. “I told you that she would ask to be first.”

Obi-Wan smirked at the five-year-old’s eagerness. “Everybody gets to put a bead onto my braid, Rani.”

“I know that! I just want to be first.” Rani replied, grinning as she continued along.

“If Rani gets to be first, I want to be second!” Ronnei demanded, looking at Nield with a pleading face.

“It doesn’t matter what order we are in; we all get to do it,” Nield said, trying to meditate. Ronnei remained unmoved, a pout starting to form on her face.

Nield sighed and rolled his eyes, giving in. “Alright, you’re second, but I’m third.”

“And I’m fourth.” Joli added, grinning.

Obi-Wan laughed aloud in response, smirking at Nield’s unamused expression.

“Ow, Deila! Be careful. That’s my hair you’re tugging on.” Obi-Wan winced, reaching back towards his right ear where Deila was busy braiding ginger hair.

“Argh, hold still for a kriffing minute, and I’ll be done soon,” Deila growled, swatting away his fingers. “You asked me to do this.”

Obi-Wan huffed at her but placed his hands back down at his lap. Yes, yes, he did ask her to do this. He had asked all seven of the Young to put beads into the new braid that Deila was crafting. That had been Arla’s idea, a white bead for each of his friends.

“How do you like Jango and Arla’s surprise, Obi-Wan?” Joli asked as he watched next to Nield.

Obi-Wan looked down at the new tunic he wore, feeling a flush warm his cheeks. “It was very nice of them to have a tailor make this for me.”

Cerasi studied the light blue tunic, noting how the tailor had borrowed elements not only from Mandolorian fashion but from the Jedi as well. It even had tabards and an obi tied around the waist. “It suits you nicely, I think, goes with the cloak rather well. Not that I’m a great judge on appearance, mind you.”

“Well, I think that it looks a lot better than the rags he was wearing. Although I’ve always wondered why you wear a braid by your ear.” Joli said curiously, interest sparkling in his eyes.

“Well, with the Jedi, it’s a symbol that shows the relationship between Master and Padawan,” Obi-Wan sighed softly. He petted his Striil as it lay by his side. “This braid that we’re making is going to be something similar, this time involving all of you.”

“So that’s why you want the Young to help you with this?” Nield couldn’t help but ask. “Not that I don’t want to help, it’s just...”

“Confusing?” Obi-Wan laughed gently, smiling at Nield. “I know. I’ll try to see if I can explain. One of the first things a Master does for a Padawan is making a Padawan braid, whether it is out of hair, ribbon, or beads. That braid not only shows the length of time that the Padawan has been under the Master’s tutelage but how strong their bond is in the Force. As the years pass, the braid will grow longer until the time comes where the Master cannot teach them anything more.”

“But we aren’t your Master.” Nield stated uneasily, unsure where Obi-Wan was going with this.

“No, you are not. But I firmly believe that you all have taught me things during the time that I’ve been with you,” Obi-Wan said confidently, feeling his chest squeeze at the look spreading over Nield’s face. “You all are my aliit, and that is the relationship this braid will now show.”

“Oh,” Nield said softly, taken aback. “Oh, Obi-Wan...”

Deila leaned back, finished, and glanced over at Nield. She gave her a small soft smile. “Alright, Rani, come on over. I’m all done.”

Rani stopped mid-way and turned around on her own, wobbling to where Obi-Wan was and plopping down with barely contained excitement. Mawat trailed after with a faint smirk.

Navik, upon seeing Rani do all of that on her own, gave a pleased grin.

Obi-Wan felt a sudden fluttery nervousness as Mawat knelt by Rani and helped her pick out a bead of her choice. It was not unlike the nervousness he had felt when Qui-Gon had first begun to create the braid.

A nervousness that chased away as he felt the growing beginnings of their Force bond. The thrill and warmth as the Force moved, pulsating around them both, acknowledging the bond forming between them. The moment where they shared thoughts and feelings. Despite everything, that little moment had been beautiful.

He knew better than to think such a thing would happen with the Young. As necessary to him as they were, they weren’t Force-sensitive. And yet, he still hovered between nervousness and anticipation, a faint desire for confirmation. Even though the last time he thought he knew what the Force wanted, it ended up hurting him.

“You okay?” Cerasi broke into his thoughts gently, picking up on his emotions with ease.

“Yeah, just... this is special.” Obi-Wan answered quietly, realizing how weak of an explanation that was. Special did not even begin to cover all the feelings blooming in his chest. Yet, Cerasi seemed to understand, from the way she smiled at him and patted his hand.

Obi-Wan waited as Mawat grasped the braid and held it steady for Rani’s small fingers. Then his eyebrows rose in surprise. Once the braid fell back onto his cheek, the white bead firmly secured, Obi-Wan could feel the Force stir in response. It arose with a clarity he hadn’t felt since before Medila/Daan, bringing forth a warm sensation not unlike being hugged.

Obi-Wan inhaled softly, noticing how similar the feeling was to the way that his creche-mates made him feel. When everyone had placed their white beads onto his braid, Deila declared their work ‘kriffing beautiful’.

That made Obi-Wan smile brightly.

<><><>

Master Tahl stood in the middle of the room, hands folded behind her back, shoulders tense. Creche-master Vant was busy with the ship’s controls; brow wrinkled in concentration.

Siri frowned as she watched the Master Jedi from the doorway, picking up on the stressful air. Master Tahl had asked them to wait outside in the next room, and so they were waiting, not sure exactly what was going on. Creche-master Vant’s lekku twitched as she worked, her brow furrowing with an annoyance she usually wouldn’t let show.

The stress around her shoulders surfaced as she spoke softly to Master Tahl, whispering words that Siri couldn’t hear. This whole ordeal was taking a toll on them.

‘What Creche-master wouldn’t be stressed and worried having lost two of the younglings under their care?’ A scoff welled up in her chest as the thought appeared in her mind.

The weight of the Malab stone pressed against her chest as she leaned onto the wall beside her. Siri placed a hand onto it, feeling its shape through her tunic. A grimace turned her mouth sharply down. It was no surprise to her that she missed Obi-Wan.

Missing Bruck, now that, that was something that she couldn’t quite puzzle out.

Siri hadn’t stopped to think what it would be like without him. She missed him. Siri knew that much. His absence was felt as keenly as Obi-Wan’s. It merely took her longer to notice, but once she realized the ache stayed like a festering wound. They weren’t the same without him.

‘I didn’t know how much I cared about you. Not until I saw you taken away,’ Siri swallowed, her mouth dry. ‘Was it the same for you? Not realizing how much we mean to each other until Obi-Wan went away?’

She glanced behind her at a surprised noise Aalto made, standing quickly up. “Something the matter?”

Aalto straightened up from the wall he was leaning on, a forgotten book sliding off his lap, disbelief showing on his young face. A frown quickly replaced it, and the boy slumped back against the wall. “Nothing. It’s nothing.” He said bitterly.

“Nothing?” Quinlan repeated, not buying it.

“I thought I felt Bruck there for a second,” Aalto bit out angrily. “I already know that was impossible, so just leave it alone.”

Siri winced. Quinlan looked over his shoulder at the unhappy child, hesitating. He glanced at Garen before looking at Bant pointedly. 

Bant went over to where Aalto was, a sympathetic look on her face. “We know you are worried about him. But Bruck knows how to take care of himself. Remember how good he is during dueling practice?”

Aalto remained silent, tugging on his chestnut hair dejectedly. Bant folded her webbed hands tightly, unsure of what else to say. Reeft shuffled his feet awkwardly, glancing at Siri. Siri sighed. She wasn’t good at comforting; that was Obi-Wan’s or Bant’s job. Or, as it was quickly becoming apparent, something that Bruck used to do for Aalto.

Quinlan frowned, wrinkling his nose. “You don’t actually think Bruck could get hurt, do you?”

“Why couldn’t he?” Aalto glared at Quinlan, sniffling now, on the verge of tears.

“Well, I mean, it’s Bruck,” Quinlan said weakly. “He’s y’know, all kriffing tough and smug.”

Siri gave Quinlan a look as soon as the words left his mouth. Bant groaned softly, placing a webbed hand on her forehead. Garen hit him lightly on the shoulder. “Quin,” He hissed through his teeth. “Really?”

“Ow. What?” Quinlan rubbed his shoulder, glaring at Garen.

“You don’t care what happens to Bruck,” Aalto said slowly, tears beginning to fall from his cheeks. “You’ve never cared about him. You wouldn’t care even if he died!”

“That’s not true!” Quinlan said defensively, shoulders squaring in anger, dark brown eyes flaring. ‘Take that back!”

Garen winced and quickly placed a comforting hand on Quinlan’s arm. “He didn’t mean it, Quinlan. He didn’t mean it like that.”

“Aalto’s just upset right now. We all are.” Reeft said carefully, edging over to Quinlan’s side to put another hand on his arm.

“Younglings?” Creche-master Vant’s soft voice cut through the argument, quieting them all. “What’s wrong?”

“Aalto is worried about Bruck,” Siri answered, wringing her hands to keep them from clutching at her robes. “So am I, to be honest.”

“Of course you are. Bruck's your creche-mate,” Creche-master Vant said, kneeling a few paces away from Aalto and Bant. “There is fear in my heart as well. Even Master Tahl is very concerned for Bruck.”

“I would care if Bruck died!” Quinlan said suddenly, clearly unhappy.

“Of course you do. I would too.” Garen said, patting Quinlan’s arm.

Creche-master Vant turned her gaze to him, and her features softened, eyes brimming with emotion. “Oh, Quinlan... Come here.”

Quinlan walked over to where she was waiting with open arms, head bowed. Creche-master Vant hugged him tightly with a deep sigh.

Quinlan’s lip trembled slightly, and he wrapped his arms around Creche-master Vant. After a moment, he spoke. “It’s just-. I don’t know what to think about him anymore. He was just Obi-Wan’s bully until suddenly he wasn’t, and surprise, he cared enough to go and get himself kriffing kidnapped.”

Quinlan’s hands tightened on Creche-master Vant’s robes as he held in a silent sob. “My parents... I... I don’t want that to happen to him. He doesn’t deserve that, even after everything he did to Obi-Wan.”

“It won’t,” Garen said determinedly. “This isn’t like that, Quin.”

“And even if it were, we wouldn’t let it happen.” Reeft added.

“We will do our best to make sure that Bruck is safe, young one.” Creche-master Vant promised firmly, something fierce shining in her eyes.

Aalto and Bant got up and went slowly over, Bant patting Quinlan’s head softly.

Aalto hugged himself with his arms. “I thought I felt him before. If he weren’t okay, I would have sensed that. Wouldn’t I have?”

“Perhaps. Or perhaps you felt someone else. After all, we are close to our destination.” Creche-master Vant replied gently, smoothing his hair.

Siri glanced at Quinlan, startled. “What? Do you truly mean-?”

Quinlan gasped, his reddened dark eyes huge. He wiped at his face, brushing away the remains of his tears.

Bant stared hopefully at Creche-master Vant. “We’re close enough to Obi-Wan to feel him through the Force?”

“Reach out yourself. Soon we will be able to contact Obi-Wan. And then, hopefully you’ll get to talk to him.” Creche-master Vant smiled.

Siri straightened, automatically reaching out, a weird mix of eagerness and trepidation swirling in her head. She felt the change, slowly but surely, almost like drawing back a curtain. It was at the edge of her mind, fluttering almost like a butterfly. Faint but present. Obi-Wan was nearby. They might be able to talk to him.

‘Soon,’ Siri thought, once more resting a hand over the Malab stone. ‘Soon, and then we’ll come for you, Bruck.’

Chapter Text

Bruck sighed as he dutifully did his best to keep Kad entertained, rubbing tiredly at the Force cuffs around his wrists. Master Qui-Gon had locked them in the room that Obi-Wan had used during the one year he was Master Qui-Gon’s Padawan. And unsurprisingly, they had entirely run out of things to do.

Which had led to Kad asking him every question underneath the sun about the room's contents. Suddenly Bruck had a lot more sympathy towards his fellow Initiates that had worked with younger children. Kad’s head slowly turned about as he thought of his next question.Bruck took the opportunity to crack his neck, wincing as his bones popped.

If he continued to allow Kad to sit on his leg, it was going to fall asleep. Yet, Kad seemed to enjoy being close to Bruck. Of course, that wasn’t surprising. After so long apart, they had a lot of catching up to do.

“Who made those?” Kad pointed to the crayon drawings on the wall.

“Hmm. Probably old drawings of Obi-Wan's, although on the other hand, they could be Quinlan’s. When he can manage to sit still for five kriffing minutes, he can make something pretty. But... it could have been Bant. I don’t know.” Bruck faltered slightly as he answered, uncomfortable that he didn’t know.

“And those?” Kad gestured at the starship posters. “Who gave him those?”

“Garen, most likely, he’s crazy about ships. Although perhaps Reeft did. I’m not sure. I know Siri would have been the one to give him the data-pads. They were practically a part of her back in the creche.” Bruck said, finally confident with the last part.

“You don’t know much about your creche, do you?” Kad observed.

Kad frowned at Bruck. “I can name all the toys Papa gave me-." He paused at the sudden forlorn look on Bruck’s face. “What is it, Bruck?”

“No. I don’t know much about my creche,” Bruck said softly, surprised at how much that kriffing hurt. “I know a lot about Aalto, how observant and energetic he is. All the duel moves he loves to try, even though he can’t manage the backflips like me. I-, kriff...”

Bruck broke off and bowed his head against the deep wave of emotion. Kad’s small hand squeezed on his wrist, a silent message of concern. Bruck sighed heavily.

“I miss them. Even the ones I didn’t know that well,” Bruck said bitterly. “What could it have been like for us if I wasn’t such a kriffing pretentious little-.”

“Don’t call yourself names.” Kad said with such indignation it made Bruck snort.

Kad’s eyes narrowed. “Don’t!” He repeated angrily.

“Alright,” Bruck relented, raising a hand. “I won’t. But why?”

“It’s too much like Papa.” Kad said bluntly.

“Papa calls himself names?” Bruck said, a hint of incredulity coloring his tone.

“When he thinks I’m not listening. And they are awful ones too, ones I’m not allowed to repeat,” Kad’s face softened. “I don’t think Papa likes who he is.”

“No. I’d imagine he doesn’t. It’s not easy to like yourself when you do awful things.” Bruck said haughtily.

The bitter silence rose around them as they pondered on each other’s words.

“Does Papa do awful things?” Kad spoke up, breaking the quiet. "Are you sure?"

“What do you think?” Bruck sneered. "I mean, he’s working with Xanatos of all people!”

“...I don’t understand,” Kad breathed out a frustrated sigh. “Why is all of this so complicated?”

“There’s nothing complicated about this,” Bruck answered back quickly. “It was wrong, plain and simple.”

“So is what Papa said right then?” Kad demanded fiercely. “Do you really not love him?”

Bruck blinked at Kad and scoffed. “What? Where did that come from? That-, that has nothing to do with this!”

“It does too!” Kad shot back. “There was no way to know if you did love him or not. That’s why this is complicated. Even I didn’t think that you’d be so willing to be my big brother. I thought you’d be more... I don’t know, Jedi-like.”

Bruck gave another scoff, this one angrier. “And you know so much about being a Jedi through your news articles, data-pads, and rumors?”

Kad turned his face away with a hurt frown, crossing his arms across his chest. “I guess not.”

All at once, Bruck got sharply reminded of his old behavior. The realization hit him across the face like a slap. Bruck winced and let his shoulders sag, the tension bleeding out of them. “Sorry. I’m sorry, Kad. That was cruel of me.”

It was a moment before Kad looked at him again. “Why are you defensive of them? Haven’t they failed you?”

“Papa has failed the both of us, in my opinion. Yet, you still see the best in him. The same is for me with the Jedi. Despite everything, I want them to succeed in helping the galaxy.” Bruck explained gently. “A lot of Jedi consider each other family, especially the ones that grew up together in the creches. And, there’s quite a lot of good that they do. Who else in the galaxy will take the time to endlessly work for others' betterment, no matter the race or planet? Not many others are so open and willing.”

Kad remained silent for a bit, his lip trembling. Then he spoke again. “I heard stories like that as well, you know. I even learned in class how some of the Jedi helped our planet recover from the bombardment. Telos IV wouldn’t be what it is today without their help. But...”

“I never said that they were perfect,” Bruck said. “And there’s problems. Big ones. But hopefully, all of that can be changed.”

“You think you can change it?” Kad asked.

Bruck stared down at the ground for a few seconds. Then he lifted his head and nodded fiercely. “I have to try. For your sake, at the very least.”

A longer silence passed between them. Kad shifted in place, unfolding his arms and settling them in his lap, eyeing Bruck carefully. “Would part of that have you talking to Papa?”

“Do you want me to?” Bruck countered.

“No-, yes. Yes, I do. But this isn’t about that. I... I want to help.” Kad faltered, unable to articulate the things he wanted to say.

Bruck rubbed his face with the palm of his hand. Unwittingly the pathetic image of his father’s holo-gram floated in his mind. What could have happened that turned him into such a shell of himself? Was it the grief of losing Bruck? Could the loss of a child provoke such a change in a person? Was it true that Vox was desperate to save them both?

He pressed the hand across his mouth and took in a deep breath. “I don’t know how I feel about it. About him... Let me think about it, Kad. Please?”

Kad nodded reluctantly, leaning over to hug Bruck’s elbow. “Don’t go away. It would hurt badly if you went away now. Worse than it did back when I didn’t know anything about you.”

Bruck laughed weakly and patted Kad on the back. “Same back at you, Kad.”

<><><>

It turns out the Mandolorains had a library on this ship. The second that Obi-Wan learned of this, he dragged his friends over to experience it with them.

Something warm and soft flickered in Obi-Wan’s heart as he reclined on the small couch next to Mawat. A book was open on his lap as he read aloud to his friends. Mawat’s copper eyes focused on the book’s pages, almost as if he stared long enough he’d be able to read the words. Deila peered over Obi-Wan’s other shoulder, chin in hand, as she studied the book. Even though her eyes flitted uncomprehendingly over the words, she kept her gaze on the book. Cerasi and Nield listened as they sat nearby.

Cerasi held her pot of flowers, and Nield attempted to draw the flowers. The crayons and paper could not truly capture the flower's beauty, but Nield tried anyway. Rani and Ronnei were happy enough to toss a ball between the two of them, giggling at their Striils trying to bat at the ball.

Joli watched Rani and Ronnei play with a strange expression on his face, fidgeting with his fingers. Mawat glanced over at Joli, sighed, and ignored him, focusing on the book.

Cerasi and Nield, having caught the exchange, stared at each other before turning to Joli. “What’s the matter with you two?”

“Nothing-,” Joli almost responded before blinking and rubbing his neck sheepishly. “Er, heh, it’s not my business to talk about.”

Obi-Wan looked up from where he was sitting, fingers trailing on the open page. “Oh?”

Nield’s eyes narrowed, and Deila scoffed. Mawat sighed. Joli quickly held up his hands. “Look, I promised Mawat I wasn’t going to say anything until he was ready!”

Mawat rolled his eyes before groaning and placing a hand against his forehead in exasperation. “Ugh. Joli...”

“What?” Joli frowned. “I did!”

Mawat raised an eyebrow at Joli. “See, this is why I didn’t think you could keep your mouth shut. You’re as bad as Rani at things like this.”

“I did my best.” Joli huffed indignantly, crossing his arms.

“Okay, well, decided what exactly?” Cerasi asked cautiously, shifting her eyes to look at Mawat.

Mawat sighed and rubbed at his face. There was an odd sort of embarrassment in the way he hung his shoulders.

Obi-Wan stared at him and then put the book aside, shutting it softly. “You can tell us, you know. Whatever it is.”

Mawat ran a hand through his whitish blond hair, breathing out slowly. Then looked Obi-Wan straight in the eye. “I... that is to say, Rani and
I have to make a somewhat big decision. No, scratch that, a massive one.”

Obi-Wan didn't say anything and only nodded. He could sense the importance in Mawat’s words.

“Did Jango explain to you what Gai Bal Manda means?” Mawat asked softly. "What it represents?"

Obi-Wan stared at Mawat, shock slowly beginning to course through him. “That’s the adoption ritual. When a Mando’ade takes in someone and makes them part of their aliit. It is done by the participants saying the vows to each other. Mawat...”

“Rani asked about it last night, after Navik was describing the Resol'nare,” Mawat said so softly that Obi-Wan could barely hear him. “And Bihes made the offer.”

Obi-Wan sat quietly for a moment, staring at Mawat, dumbfounded. Deila’s jaw dropped open, her dark grey eyes bulging out of her head. Nield’s eyebrows rose way up into his hairline, looking genuinely taken aback. Cerasi's face froze with shock.

Mawat winced slightly at their reactions. “I know. I know...It’s a big deal.”

Joli shrank back. “Er, sorry. I didn’t mean to make things so...” He gestured uselessly with a hand.

Deila spluttered a few times before she could get her breath. “They’re asking to adopt you?! They want to kriffing adopt you and Rani?”

She leaned over Obi-Wan to stare at Mawat, pointing a finger in his direction. “Why isn’t Rani bouncing all over the place with gigantic news like this?”

“Because despite her age, Rani’s smart enough to realize that this is a humongous decision and that we need to be serious about it.” Mawat huffed, scowling and gently shoving Deila back.

Deila settled back down and placed her chin in her hands, eyes wide. Then Obi-Wan folded his hands together and swallowed. “Oh. Oh, Mawat... What, what are you going to...”

Obi-Wan snapped his jaw shut before he could finish the sentence, blinking back against an influx of tears. Mawat and Rani had the chance to have a family. The thought was almost overwhelming.

“Congratulations,” Obi-Wan wheezed at last. “No matter what you choose, I’m so happy that you both have the opportunity.”

Mawat blinked at Obi-Wan, clearly not expecting that reaction. He shifted in place for a moment before looking up and nodding. “Thank you.”

Cersai’s had melted into a soft trembling smile. “That’s amazing, Mawat. That’s truly amazing, and I’m so happy for you and Rani.”

“You didn’t... answer Obi-Wan’s question,” Nield spoke carefully. “What have you decided?”

“I haven’t yet. Neither has Rani. Bihes and Navik made the offer last night, and this isn’t something I want to treat recklessly. If you know what I mean?” Mawat sighed before softly adding. “Rani doesn’t know how to react or even what to think. We’ve never had buirs before. Or even anyone other than you guys."

He paused for a moment before softly laughing under his breath. "What would it even be like, having a sibling? Someone that calls you vod?”

“Think about the relationship you and Rani have. Having someone that can tell when you feel a certain way, someone that supports you against the world, that makes you feel loved,” Obi-Wan said slowly. “That’s how my creche made me feel. Even though we aren’t blood-related, we grew up together."

Nield's face twisted into a frown, hands clenching at his sides. "It doesn't matter if there's a title or a blood relation between the two of you. Your relationship is what matters."

"Calm down, Nield. Mawat and Rani will be okay with Bihes and Navik," Cerasi spoke, placing a hand on Nield's knee. "You don't need to be so protective."

Nield glared at her but after a moment, relented, crossing his arms with a sigh. "I just don't want this to separate us."

"It won't. That isn't what this will mean." Obi-Wan said.

“What is that going to mean, exactly?” Joli asked slowly. “You having... a family. An aliit.”

“I already have an aliit with all of you,” Mawat growled softly. “Rani and I aren’t going to suddenly forget about all of you just because we aren’t living with you anymore. Not after everything we’ve been through together.”

Joli paused and then slowly nodded. “Okay.”

“To answer the other part of your question, I discussed that with Navik. We would live with both of them and their adiiks, they’d look after our needs, and they would teach us how to be Mando’ade. How to do the things that they do.”

“You already know how to fight. Kriff, I’ve seen you on the battlefield with bacta and that sniper rifle.” Nield said gruffly.

“And if they could help me improve my abilities so that I could be able to not only use bacta but also perform an emergency surgery on fallen vod?" Mawat countered.

"Are you even really sure that this is what you want? What you are willing to be?" Nield asked.

“Nield, surely you can realize that with this, I’d be able to do what we’ve always wanted. I can bring peace and safety to other children that are like us.” Mawat said softly.

Nield’s jaw trembled, and he looked away from Mawat’s earnest copper gaze. One hand curled into a fist. “Fair point.”

“Again, I’ve yet to make the decision. But the moment I make it, I’ll tell all of you what I choose.” Mawat said, patting Nield’s shoulder gently.

<><><>

Jango and Arla had joined the Young and Obi-Wan in the library after some time. Joli lay on his stomach and watched as the two siblings played a Mando’ade game. A holo-gram board hovered between the two of them. At differing intervals, either Jango or Arla would hit a button, causing a digital knife to stab a section of the board. 

From the increasingly sour look on Jango’s face, he was losing the game.

“Ha! Oya! I win.” Arla pumped a fist in the air as the holo-gram shut off.

“Osik, be quiet; we are in the library, not a tap-cafe or a bar,” Jango sighed, tossing Arla the credits as she cheered. “You’re going to disturb the adiik.”

Arla clasped a hand to her mouth and cast an apologetic glance over to where Obi-Wan had paused in his reading to glance over. “Oops. I didn’t mean to interrupt, Obi’ka.”

 A corner of Obi-Wan’s mouth raised at the endearment. “No need, we were already at the end. Besides, I think everyone is more interested in what you are doing.”

“Cu'bikad. Or, to be more precise, a digitized form of it. The original version has actual knives.” Arla explained. 

 Seeing Joli’s eager expression, Jango quickly said. “And before you ask, you have to be at least thirteen before you can try the original version.”

“Aww,” Joli pouted. “No fair.”

Deila sat up straighter with an annoyed huff. “I threw bombs back at Melida/Daan. I fought a war. I can handle a few knives.”

“It’s not about that, Deila. It’s more of the fact you’d be going up against players that have trained with knives since they were about knee-high,” Jango replied gently. “Most Mando’ade don’t even play with non-Mandalorian adults for that very reason. We don’t want you getting hurt.”

“Silas, Myles, and you played with that pirate friend of yours once.” Arla said with a teasing smile.

“Pirate friend?” Cerasi stared at Jango and Arla. 

Jango groaned, shooting his vod a look. “Do we have to mention him?”

“You think I’m going to pass up mentioning Hondo Ohnaka?” Arla asked, her smile growing wider at the clear interest on Obi-Wan and the Young’s faces. “No way. Not after all the times you’ve pulled his shebs from the fire. After all, according to him, ‘You are a good friend and an honorable man, Jango!’” 

“He only says that because I keep ‘helping’ him with his di’kut plots.”  Jango growled.

Obi-Wan smiled at the annoyed twitch of Jango’s eyebrows. “Seems like he’s quite the character.” 

“You have no kriffing idea.” Jango groaned.

“Well, because you help him all the time, you’ve got a friend for life,” Arla snickered. “Although I guess one has to ask. Is being friends with Hondo Ohnaka a good thing?”

Jango gave a ‘hmph’ and rolled his eyes, leaning back in the chair with a faint smile. 

Obi-Wan glanced up at the soft knock at the doorway. 

“Jaster!” Obi-Wan grinned excitedly. 

Jango and Arla looked up as well, smiles on their faces. 

“I’ve beaten Jango three times now!” Arla crowed smugly.

Jango’s smile faded slightly as he studied Jaster’s face. “Buir?”

Obi-Wan also noted the difference in Jaster’s face. New stress lines were wrinkling over his forehead as if he got informed of some disturbing news. Jaster walked over to where Obi-Wan was, a holo-projector held in his hand. 

“A Jetti wants to talk to you. Someone named Master Tahl. She claims to know you.” He said, tone gentle as always.

Obi-Wan’s blue green-grey eyes grew huge as he started up eagerly. “Master Tahl! Truly?! Is she alright now?”

The Young stared at each other, startling at the name of Master Tahl. Deila rose to stare over at the holo-projector. Cerasi folded her hands together as she sat on the floor, the pot of flowers sitting safely beside her. Her face was twisting into an uncharacteristic scowl. Nield sat as still as a stone, observing.

Joli frowned and folded his arms across his knees. Rani and Ronnei stopped playing and came over with curious faces. Mawat’s face remained neutral.

Jaster held back a strained smile at Obi-Wan’s obvious delight. “She’s the Jetti that was wounded, wasn’t she?”

“We helped Obi-Wan save her from the adults,” Rani chirped in cheerfully. Her face lit up as she grinned over at Obi-Wan. ‘Her eyes must be almost all better now. Just like my leg.” 

Obi-Wan’s expression faltered at that, but he still smiled softly at Rani. “I'm not so sure. Her injury was more severe than yours was, Rani. It nearly killed her. And the wound was already infected by the time we managed to get to her.”

He turned to Jaster. “Do you think she wants to make sure I’m okay?”

Jango scoffed under his breath, mumbling something unintelligible. Obi-Wan glanced at him while Jaster shot Jango a stern look over Obi-Wan’s head. Arla raised an eyebrow at her vod, exasperated. 

Jango looked away, dark eyes narrowing. “Buir told those Jetti that you were being looked after. Why do we have to prove that we are keeping our word?”

Arla kicked Jango under the table with her foot. Joli snickered at Jango’s annoyed expression as he rubbed his shin.

Jaster took in a long breath, shaking his head at Jango. “It’s what I would do if an adiik in my care were being looked after by someone else, cyar’ika. Especially if relations with that someone else were tense at best. We aren’t the only ones that care for him.”

Jango looked like he wanted to say something else, but a nudge from Arla kept his mouth shut. 

Jaster relented slightly and sighed. “Despite that, I share your reservation. I’m not convinced that talking to her is the best idea.”

Obi-Wan stared at Jaster for a moment or two. Then he straightened up with a look of confidence. “Master Tahl would never hurt any of us. She’s nothing like Qui-Gon.”

A tired smile came out despite Jaster’s best efforts. He gave a soft chuckle. “I know. I believe you. I do, Obi’ika. It’s not her that I distrust. It’s the corrupt government she reports to that’s the problem. And... all of the bad histories between our two groups makes even the best of us hesitate.”

Obi-Wan’s eyebrows raised. “What do you mean? Why would the Senate at all have an interest in the Jedi’s affairs? All they care about is the safety and well-being of the Republic's citizens-.” He broke off after glancing at Nield and Cerasi. 

“Well, some of them at least.” He amended.

“We are the exception,” Nield agreed darkly. “If all the planets were treated like us, there would be civil war.”

Arla sniffed. “Then there will probably be one in a few years if things keep up.”

Cerasi and Nield both looked at her with surprise, Cerasi’s face growing grim at the thought.

Arla sighed heavily and shrugged her shoulders. “Mishuk gotal'u meshuroke, pako kyore. The Jetti have been so busy helping the Republic flourish that no one notices that the Republic can’t even stand on its two feet anymore. Add onto that the lack of change and unwillingness to stand against what others say.”

“The Jetti have the galaxy’s best interests at heart. The Senate do not. It’s as simple and complicated as that, unfortunately,” Jango remarked. "Something has to change or it will collapse. Spectacularly."

Nield sneered. “You mean like how the Senate had no problem with our planet’s war until a Jetti got hurt?”

“Let’s just say that there’s a lot of mud-slinging and name-calling that ends up nowhere,” Jaster said neutrally. “It’s very complicated, I’m afraid. And adding to that, I don’t think the Senate is going to take the news of a Jetti talking freely to the Manda’lor well.”

Obi-Wan frowned up at Jaster. “So then we aren’t going to answer?”

“I didn’t say that. I said I thought it might not be a good idea. However, it’s not my decision or anyone else’s,” Jaster handed the holo-projector over to Obi-Wan. “I told you at the beginning that you were the one that gets to decide your future.”

 Obi-Wan took the holoprojector, cradling it in his hands. His face wrinkled as he pondered the problem. 

“You can tell me if you distrust the Jetti. You have fair reasons for that distrust. I won’t hold it against any of you.” He said with slow softness.

“Vore entye Obi’ika,” Jaster gently replied, a wan smile on his wrinkled face. “I will still do my best not to slander them in your presence. That would be unnecessarily cruel.”

Obi-Wan nodded at Jaster and looked back down at the holo-projector. He moved to hit the button, only for him to falter. “...Is there a way that we can ask her not to talk to the Senate?”

“We can certainly try.” Arla agreed. 

Obi-Wan looked back at the Young, tilting his head at them. “What do you guys think?”

“No, don’t do it, Obi-Wan,” Cerasi glared at the holo-projector. “They can’t just come crawling back like this.”

Mawat gave an agreeing nod, arms crossing firmly over his chest. “They need to prove that they actually care.”

Deila frowned and shrugged, holding Iisa closer. “Is that fair of us, though?”

“Master Tahl was hurt, almost comatose. She didn’t know what was going on.” Joli added in.

Nield frowned, folding his hands as he considered the problem. “I don’t think it's fair to compare Master Tahl to the adults on Melida/Daan, Cerasi. Especially since they are nothing like them, no doubt she is worried.”

“And if she’s worried, it’s best if I let her know I’m fine.” Obi-Wan agreed, thumb pressing down on the button. 

He watched as it flared to life with a small hum. The blue figure of Master Tahl stood with her arms clasped behind her, back straight as a rod. 
At the sight of the Jedi, Jango leaned in closer, dark eyes narrowing. Cerasi stared at the way Jaster’s posture had changed from relaxed to alert. His face remained neutral and open, but he was alert all the same.

“Master Tahl!” Obi-Wan grinned at her. “You’re, you’re okay. I was so worried, you looked so pale, and you could barely stay awake. You’re... okay.”

He stopped himself long enough to bow hastily before Master Tahl. “Ah, I mean, greetings, Master!”

Her face softened as soon as she heard him. “Greetings Pa-, ah, Kenobi.”

“Obi-Wan,” He said, warm but firm. “I’m just Obi-Wan now.”

“Obi-Wan it shall be then,” Master Tahl agreed smoothly, smiling gently. “I am very pleased to hear your voice. And I am glad to feel your presence shining as bright as it used to. I was worried myself there, but I am grateful that the Mandalorians have taken such good care of you.”

“Not only me but the Young too! You remember the Young, Master?” Obi-Wan asked, hands almost jittery with delight. “They are here with me now. They are safe.”

“Then the Mandalorians have my thanks for that as well.” Master Tahl said warmly.

Rani wobbled closer to where Obi-Wan stood, looking up at Master Tahl curiously. “You’re the Jetti Obi-Wan wanted to save. I remember you.”

Cerasi stood up as Rani approached, uncertainty flashing across her face. “Rani...”

Master Tahl inclined her head slightly to the right. “Yes, I am, young one. And if what I hear is correct, you helped him in that endeavor. I owe my life to you and your friends.”

"You’re welcome.” Mawat said stiffly, eyeing Master Tahl with a curious, nervous look. He edged closer to where Rani was, one arm reaching out protectively.

“Does that mean you aren’t dying anymore?” Rani asked.

“Rani!” Cerasi leaned over and frowned at the young girl. 

“Yes,” Master Tahl smiled. “Healer Vokara Che is one of the best healers I’ve ever known.”

Obi-Wan stared at Master Tahl, noticing for the first time that the Noorian’s striped golden-green eyes were now clouded and milky white. There was a faint white line stretching from her left eyebrow to her chin, the scarring of the injury that made her so weak.

Obi-Wan’s heart nearly stopped in his chest. “Master... Your eyes they are...”

“No more,” Master Tahl finished in a gentle tone and a sigh. “I may yet have sight one day, but for now, my eyes are gone.”

Obi-Wan pressed his lips together into a line in an effort to control his emotions. The grief still showed on his face. 

“It is not your fault, Obi-Wan.” Master Tahl said gently.

“I know,” Obi-Wan rasped. “I know. And yet... if we were quicker...”

“No,” Master Tahl’s voice goes firm. “I may have been locked in a prison, but I knew the state the children were in. What they were facing. It was part of the reason I went there in the first place. If you hadn’t worked with the Young, I doubt they’d be alive right now. Their lives are saved, and they have you to thank.”

“So then... you are aware of the choice I made?” Obi-Wan asked her carefully.

Master Tahl gave no reaction, keeping her face perfectly neutral. “I am.”

Obi-Wan nodded and lowered his head. Then he lifted it back up to look her in the eye. “If I hurt your feelings, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to imply that the Young were more important than you.”

“Oh, Obi-Wan...” Master Tahl’s shoulders slumped, and Obi-Wan could see the hurt and grief spreading over her posture. What happened with Qui-Gon had affected her. “I don’t blame you. Not at all.”

Obi-Wan stared at her blue green-grey eyes burning fiercely. “This is not your fault either, Master. Neither was the choice I made.”

“Thank you for saying so.” Master Tahl softly replied after a moment. 

“Osik. How can you even think it is your fault when Qui-Gon is the one that forced the issue?” Deila bristled. “You were unconscious. In fact, you were kriffing dying! End of story.”

Master Tahl was silent, her head bowing slightly. Emotions danced across her face as she tried to think of a proper response.  At last, she straightened back up and replied. “What is done is done. The only thing I’ll say on the issue is that I’m glad you all are safe. And now that I have made sure that you are safe and well, I have something to ask of you.”

Obi-Wan was silent for a moment, noting the way she changed the topic. Then he nodded briefly and asked. “What is it, Master?”

A warm, bright smile came slowly onto her face. “Reach out with the Force and tell me what you can feel.”

Obi-Wan frowned. “Just you, Master... Unless... wait, is, is that...”

Obi-Wan blinked, his eyes growing huge with shock. “Creche-master Vant?! Wh-, what is she doing here? And... is that?”

Rani perked up excitedly. “Ooh! I want to meet her!”

Master Tahl chuckled and walked off to the side of the holo-gram, turning to face behind her.
“Creche-master Vant?” She called out. “Go ahead and let them all in.”

In the next instant, Obi-Wan’s face broke out into a wide grin, eyes shining with delight. “Quin?!”

“Obi!” Quinlan’s voice shouted back with desperate eagerness.

Jango straightened up at the sound of Quinlan’s voice, one eyebrow raising upwards. Arla leaned in closer, a smile spreading over her face. Jaster slowly relaxed his posture.

Deila, who had quietly crept closer to Obi-Wan, jumped back in surprise as Quinlan’s holo-gram form barreled into the spot where Master Tahl used to stand. The Kiffar boy stared at Obi-Wan, brown eyes just as huge as Obi-Wan’s. His gloved hands twitched as he stared at his sibling in all but name. 

“Quin,” Obi-Wan warmly grinned, feeling his heart squeeze. “It’s so good to see you.”

“You’re okay!” Quinlan gasped out, relief in every word. “You’re okay...”

His hand twitched again. Quinlan looked down at it and then at Obi-Wan’s holo-gram. His face twisted into a frustrated pained expression and the other gloved hand tightened into a fist. 

Obi-Wan noted the movement, and the grin faded somewhat. ‘Quinlan’s frightened for me,’ He realized suddenly. ‘And he can’t use his Force touch on me.”

“I’ve worried you haven’t I?” Obi-Wan asked. 

 “Obi,” Quinlan whispered. “ You are okay, right? You aren’t hurt anymore?” 

“No, I’m not hurt, and yes, I’m fine.” Obi-Wan nodded at him, hoping to relieve Quinlan’s concern.

Not reassured that quickly, Quinlan began to pace, his utter relief suddenly melting into a fit of fierce anger. “I heard about what happened to your lightsaber. Siri found the robe that you wore on Bandomeer...”

He stopped abruptly, turning on his heel to face Obi-Wan. “Kriff Obi-Wan,” Quinlan growled. “Tell me the next time you face down a Sith!”

Obi-Wan heard the unspoken accusation, and he sighed, regret on his face. “I should have said something, and I know that now. It seemed like a good idea to stay quiet at the time.”

Deila scowled at Quinlan, and Cerasi’s face darkened even further. Quinlan’s angry expression held only for a moment before it wavered and broke.

“You... you kriffing, do you have any idea what it was like without you?” Quinlan gasped out, just barely holding in tears. “It was so awful, don’t you do that again, do you hear?”

“Oh, Quin...” Obi-Wan breathed out his name softly. “I won’t.”

Not far behind Quinlan, Bant scrambled into view. She looked him up and down several times, blinking her huge silver eyes. Her chin barbels warbled as she held back a sob. “You’re okay.”

 “And I’m going to stay that way,” Obi-Wan replied, smiling at her. “Trust me.”

Bant shook her head as she stared at him, silver eyes shining. “I missed you. I missed you so badly.”

Obi-Wan’s eyes softened. “Oh Bant... you cried, didn’t you?”

Bant gave a watery laugh and hung her head. “How could I not? I thought you were alone and hurt.”

“I’m not now.” Obi-Wan soothed.

Nield tilted his head as he watched the interaction, dark blue eyes taking it all in. Garen ran into view, dragging Siri along by the sleeve. Reeft followed eagerly, shoulders relaxing from their tight posture as he stepped into the room. 
Creche-master Vant quietly walked in and turned to beckon along someone behind her gently. Aalto came in last of all, one hand clutching at his elbow, his young face unsure. He lingered shyly next to Creche-master Vant. She placed a warm hand onto his back in an attempt to soothe his unease.

Once Garen saw Obi-Wan, he let go of Siri’s sleeve and pointed a finger up at him, face turning in a sharp scowl. “I hope you’re happy with yourself, Obi-Wan. Everybody worried themselves sick over you. You even made Reeft turn down food. That’s how upset you made him.”

“He didn’t even touch dessert?” Obi-Wan asked, face crumpling in sympathy at the wild shake of Garen’s head. “Oh, Reeft...”

“And he threatened to eat someone, just so you know.” Garen said, tone indignant. 

Mawat frowned at Garen and opened his mouth to defend Obi-Wan. One quick shake of Obi-Wan’s head deterred him, however. 

Obi-Wan gazed at Garen for a long moment before he said softly. “I’ve hurt you too, haven’t I?”

Garen’s scowl fell away in an instant, and he was left with a vulnerable expression. He struggled to regain the frown before hanging his head and scuffing his toe on the floor. Then he looked back up, mouth quivering. “Not just me. All of us. Say something next time, you kriffing idiot. Say something when you’re hurting. I would have tried to help. We all would have. We would have done something.” Garen sniffed, wiping his face with his sleeve.

“I’m truly sorry, Garen,” Obi-Wan apologized. Then he paused. “Tell me that you didn’t get into any fights.”

Garen flushed an interesting shade of red and looked away hastily. “...Maybe.”

“Maybe?! Garen picked fights with the other younglings every time they said something mean. Spent more time shouting at them than helping me keep Quinlan from punching them,” Reeft scoffed. “And he punched someone himself.”

“You punched a youngling?” Obi-Wan repeated, eyebrows rising nearly to his hairline. “Garen!”

“They were spreading awful rumors about what happened to you. Kriff, who knows what they are saying now,” Garen shook his head at the thought. “I’m not apologizing for that one. They deserved it!”

Obi-Wan sighed and shook his head at Garen. He turned to look at Siri, who was being quiet, knitting her hands together and staring out at the Young, her blue eyes flickering between all seven of them. The Young stared back, Ronnei and Rani the only ones to smile at her.

She lifted her head, ignoring the way her eyes were beginning to water. “I missed you, Obi-Wan. I’m sorry that I wasn’t a good enough friend to have noticed something was wrong.”

“Siri, what happened wasn’t your fault, honest. You don’t need to be any better than you already are. If it hadn’t been for you, I don’t think I'd be as good at speaking as I am now,” Obi-Wan replied. “Please don’t be worried now.”

“You have no idea how worried she was,” Quinlan said quietly. “You had Siri so frightened that she abandoned all of her notes and books. She even missed homework.”

Obi-Wan drew back, giving a surprised laugh. “No way. You’re kidding. This is Siri we’re talking about.”

Then his gaze and tone grew softer. “I’m sorry, Siri.”

Siri’s lip trembled. “...Stay okay. Do you hear me? I don’t know what I would do if you got in trouble again.”

“I will,” Obi-Wan agreed. “There’s no way I’m getting in trouble nowadays, anyway.”

Deila leaned over Obi-Wan’s shoulder and stared at Quinlan, dark grey eyes wide and curious. 

“Who the kriff are you?” Quinlan asked, noticing Deila’s presence, eyes narrowing.

Deila puffed up, scowling, standing tall, and staring Quinlan down. “I’m the one that helped keep Obi-Wan’s head on his shoulders during our war. Who the kriff are you?”

Quinlan glared at Deila with all the menace he could muster, squaring his shoulders defensively.

“Ah, what she means to say, Quin, is that her name is Deila, she’s part of the Young, and she’s very pleased to meet you,” Obi-Wan quickly introduced, patting Deila’s shoulder. “She also likes bombs. And Deila, this is Quinlan Vos. Do you remember what I told you about him? My creche-mate that is always breaking into anything and everything?”

Quinlan stared back fiercely at Deila before relenting and looking back at Obi-Wan. “The Young?”

“The group that helped keep him alive on Meldia/Daan,” Deila clarified snarkily. “While a war with the adults was going on.”

Obi-Wan tugged on her sleeve, and Deila quieted down. Her glare remained.

 “You told her about me?” Quinlan questioned, frowning.

“I told lots of stories about my creche,” Obi-Wan replied quickly. “They helped cheer us all up during the rough patches.”

‘Except the ones about Bruck.’ He mentally winced.

The Young did not need stories about bullies while they were busy fighting for their lives. 

Bant’s gaze fell on Cerasi, who was hovering in the background, trying to get a better look. Bant tilted her head in question. 

“Bant, this is Cerasi. She’s good with plants and spears. And Cerasi, this is Bant. If you have an injury, she can fix it better than bacta.” Obi-Wan said, pointing to each of them in turn.

Bant flushed at Obi-Wan’s praise. She bowed at Cerasi, giving her a timid smile. “Greetings.”

Cerasi blinked, her scowl melting away. She was left looking a bit awkward before she clumsily attempted to bow back, nearly losing her balance. “Nice to meet you... Bant.” She said warily.

Garen and Joli engaged in a brief staring contest, sizing each other up.

It lasted a full minute before Joli blurted out. “I would have punched them too, you know. Obi-Wan isn’t mean at all. He saved my life by jumping off a building and dragging me to safety.”

Garen’s eyebrows rose, and he glanced hastily at Obi-Wan. “Really?”

“Thanks to him, I only got a black eye.” Joli bragged.

Obi-Wan sighed, rolling his eyes fondly. “Garen, meet Joli. I’m fairly certain Joli has the same aptitude for trouble as you. Joli, meet Garen. He’s the one that has all the crazy ideas that Quin doesn’t come up with and drags me along on every single time.”

“Oh yeah? Your ideas are pretty ridiculous all by themselves.” Garen shot back, falling into their easy camaraderie as if it had never stopped.

“Nield calls them hare-brained,” Joli giggled. “Mawat says they are moronic.”

Both Nield and Mawat winced slightly at Joli’s comment, shuffling their feet slightly. Garen only chuckles and allows the tension to bleed away from his posture.

Ronnei laughed and peered eagerly at the holo-gram. “Do you guys do the funny bow as well?”

Reeft stared at her before turning to Obi-Wan with a raised eyebrow. “Funny bow?”

Obi-Wan rolled his eyes. “She means the bow that Creche-master Vant taught us for when we are saying thank you. She thinks it looks silly.”

Siri’s eyebrow twitched at that, although she tactfully kept her mouth shut.

 Reeft blinked, and then he performed the bow, shyly lifting his head back up when Ronnei burst out laughing. He smiled at her laughter.

“Well, Reeft, as you can see, this is Ronnei. She likes funny things. And she rivals you on the scale of messiest eater in the galaxy,” Obi-Wan giggled, pressing a hand to his mouth. “Ronnei, this is Reeft. He often ends up being the one that has to explain to everyone what sort of mischief the rest of us have gotten into.”

“Can you make things float like Obi-Wan?” Ronnei asked, her hazel eyes shining brightly.

“Yes. I can even throw them onto Quin’s head.” Reeft grinned at Quinlan’s swift glare.

Nield finally came over and faced the holo-gram, quietly studying the creche with a neutral expression. Siri watched him in turn, straightening underneath his scrutiny.

“Siri, this Nield. He’s excellent at battle strategy and thinking on his feet. I bet there’s a real possibility that you both would share a love of knowledge,” Obi-Wan introduced, placing an arm around Nield’s shoulders. “Nield, this is the creche-mate that reminded me to keep my skills sharp. See, I told you there was a Jedi that told me that all the time.”

Nield hesitated before seeming to come to a decision. He gave Siri a courteous nod and what was supposed to be a friendly smile. It came out more wan and wary than he intended. 

Siri returned the gesture, bowing briefly and nodding as well. Her expression was just as wary.

Obi-Wan did his best to avoid the awkwardness surrounding his attempt to greet one of his former bullies. Although Aalto couldn’t manage more than a shy wave, the guilt and grief forced him to hide his face in Creche-master Vant’s robes. Something tight clenched in Obi-Wan’s stomach at the sight of Aalto’s remorse.

Creche-master Vant breathed a soft sigh of relief as she looked at Obi-Wan. “It is wonderful to see you in such bright spirits, youngling.”

Rani cocked her head at her curiously. “Who are you?”

“That’s Creche-master Vant, Rani. She’s the one that has cared for me since I was very young. She taught me a lot of things about the Force.” Obi-Wan told her.

“And you’re the one that taught him the funny bow.” Ronnei cackled.

Rani grinned at Creche-master Vant. “I like how you are all blue. Bihes can turn all blue too. Can you change colors too?”

“Rani!” Cerasi scolded. “Don’t be rude!”

“I’m not,” Rani huffed. ‘If anything, you’re the one being rude by glaring so much.”

Cerasi flushed and looked away, clenching her jaw.

Creche-master Vant skillfully withheld a chuckle from escaping at Rani’s words. “No. I cannot change color.”

“Can you lift things with the Force like Obi-Wan?” Rani asked.

“We all can. It’s something that all Jedi can do.” Quinlan retorted.

Deila drew herself up, about to let loose a snarky comment but stopped at Obi-Wan’s pleading glance. She sighed and turned back to her Striil.

Rani nodded at Quinlan’s words, attention drifting elsewhere. Her large brown eyes bounced from creche-mate to creche-mate as she counted. A frown creased her forehead, and she counted again. Again she came up dissatisfied. With a displeased huff, she turned to Obi-Wan. “I thought there were seven creche-mates?”

Obi-Wan did his best to avoid showing his wince, sighing softly. “I did. And there are. But it's perfectly fine if Bruck doesn’t want to...”

Obi-Wan broke off from his polite dismissal once he saw his creche-mates reactions.

Quinlan was gaping at Rani with shock. Siri had visibly flinched, hands grabbing at her tunic tightly. Bant’s face had already paled and crumpled in sadness. Aalto’s lip was trembling, and he looked like he was about to burst into tears. Reeft and Garen looked hastily away, mouth turning downwards.

The Young, having picked up on the reactions, all collectively stiffened. Something dark spread over Nield’s face as he also counted the heads in the holo-gram. Then Nield’s jaw tightened with steel-cold anger. “Qui-Gon killed Bruck, didn’t he?”

Obi-Wan stared at Nield with utter disbelief. “What?” 

At once, all of Obi-Wan’s creche-mates drew back in shock. Quinlan almost immediately drew back up, flaring defensively. “No. No, he isn’t dead at all! We just have to go help him get out the mess he stepped into!”

Barely managing to recover himself, Obi-Wan shook his head furiously. “Why the kriff would you think that, Nield?”

“It's something an adult like him would do, to get back at you for leaving him,” Nield answered blunt and cold. “Although if he’s alive, that’s a good thing. But something has clearly happened.”

As he finished his last statement, Nield jerked his chin at the holo-gram, his entire face grim. Aalto had begun to cry quietly, pressing his face into Creche-master Vant’s robes.  Master Tahl grimaced, lowering her head. Creche-master Vant embraced Aalto, her face troubled with worry. 

She softly shook her head, her voice. “No. Don’t worry, Bruck is not dead.”

Obi-Wan gave them all a bewildered glance. 

 “Master Qui-Gon kidnaped Bruck,” Siri clarified, voice trembling only slightly. A single glance at Obi-Wan’s shocked face made her calm facade drop. “I tried my best to stop it, but he told me to stay put! And I didn’t truly know that there was danger until the Mandal'or called. ” 

Obi-Wan stared in confusion and worry, shaking his head slowly at the holo-gram. Jaster’s attention snapped to Master Tahl with frightening swiftness. Jango’s dark eyes widened only for a moment before a determined mask slid seamlessly over his features. 

All hostility dropped from Deila’s posture, swiftly replaced at first with shock and then anger. “How did you let this happen? Aren’t you supposed to be powerful warriors?”

Garen glared at her. “Bruck did the same thing Obi-Wan did, he only told Aalto a fraction of his plan, and if Aalto hadn’t said something to Siri, then we wouldn’t have had anything to go on.”

“...Bruck was taken shortly after the Manda’lor informed us of your situation. At the time, things were blurry and unclear.” Creche-master Vant murmured, a frail expression blooming on her face. 

A determined one quickly replaced it. “But that is no excuse. And I’m going to make sure Bruck can return to us.”

Master Tahl finally spoke up. “I don’t know if you were told or not. But Obi-Wan, the Jedi Council-. We believe that your former Master, he... he fell.”

Her voice broke at the end, and she inhaled, taking control of her emotions once again. Obi-Wan’s mouth opened and then closed as he stared blankly at Master Tahl. 

Then a solemn mournful expression spread slowly over his face. “Oh. Master Tahl... I’m sorry..”

A bitter, sad smile graced Master Tahl’s lips briefly. “You knew, didn’t you?”

“I suspected it the moment he put forth the idea that we should abandon the Young to save your life. But even if he hadn’t Fallen, even if he had been right according to the Jedi Code, I would have still opposed him. It still would have been wrong.” Obi-Wan said firmly.

“Fell?” Nield questioned sharply, eyes narrowing. 

“She’s saying Qui-Gon is now using the Dark Side of the Force.” Obi-Wan explained quietly. 

“As in the ‘lashing out’ thing?” Joli asked, brow furrowing. “Or... is this different?”

Obi-Wan gave a deep frown before shaking his head, one hand tightening into a trembling fist. 

“Different,” He bit out, words bitter and short. “Very different. It’s painful, scarring, all-consuming. It twists you into a mere shadow of yourself, making you lose parts of yourself.”

Nield stared at Obi-Wan, his face slowly going pale. “Was that happening... to you?”

“Not really. I know how to control myself. It was just in that one moment that I lost control. I got better after I got help,” Obi-Wan explained, teeth gritted. “Qui-Gon... he could try and do something awful now. Something real awful, something worse than leaving all of you to die.”

 Master Tahl inhaled softly, seeming to gather herself up, and then inclined her head slightly. “With Master Qui-Gon out there, with what he has done... Do whatever you must to keep Kenobi safe, Manda’lor.”

Obi-Wan felt his jaw drop. Jaster turned to stare at Master Tahl, silver eyes piercing. As if he was trying to see if she meant what she said.

“He’s safe with us. And me.” He said softly after a solemn moment had passed.

“Wha-, Master Tahl! Don’t you know what they’d do to him if he’s Fallen and...” Obi-Wan said, utterly baffled and then slightly afraid. 

He knew with horrifying clarity what would happen to Master Qui-Gon if the Mando'ade managed to run across him. 

Master Qui-Gon would die. 

Somehow, despite everything, the weight of the knowledge pricked against his skin. It was a disquieting thing, the death of Master Qui-Gon. Then again, the same fate would befall Xanatos and any other Dar’jetti that attempted to hurt them. Still, the mere thought of Xanatos’s looming dark figure not being a threat was alien. 

Master Tahl’s lips tightened into a thin pressed line. “I fully expect them to attack and possibly kill him, yes.”

“But Master...” Obi-Wan breathed, shocked. 

It was one thing to think it and another to hear her say it aloud. If Master Tahl, a Jedi Master, was willing to let the Mando’ade kill Qui-Gon... His gut clenched. 

“He abandoned you and the Young. He left you defenseless on Meldia/Daan despite the civil war. He kidnapped Bruck,” Master Tahl’s voice wavered for a second, growing firm at the last part. “And... I must account for your safety. For all of your safety.”

With that final part echoing in their minds, Creche-master Vant spoke. “There’s a reason she’s asking, Obi-Wan.”

Jaster’s eyes shift to Creche-master Vant. Something flickers on his face as he considers her. “You intend to rescue your kidnapped charge.”

“Yes,” Creche-master Vant confirms without hesitation. ‘But just me. Master Tahl is going to stay with the younglings.”

Obi-Wan visibly starts. “What?”

Both Garen and Bant cast her worried looks. Siri looks unhappy with that decision. Quinlan scuffs his shoe on the ground. Reeft is silent, arms wrapped around himself. Aalto sniffs and brushes a sleeve across his face.

 Quinlan hangs his head. “Is there no other way?”

“I’m not leaving Bruck’s fate in the hands of a Fallen Jedi,” Creche-master Vant said firmly. “And I’m not leaving all of you defenseless-.”

Creche-master Vant pauses at Jaster’s outstretched hand.

“If there’s anything we can do to secure this Jetti adiik’s safety, we’ll do it,” Jaster promised fiercely. “That includes helping the rest of you. There’s a space station that we were planning to land on. If you take your charges there and land, there are those among us that will help you hunt for the missing Jetti adiik and this demagolka Dar'jetti.”

Creche-Master Vant stared at him for a moment and then nodded at him solemnly. “Then I bestow my thanks unto you, Manda’lor.”

At the end, her voice slightly wavered, and Obi-Wan’s heart broke all over again for his Temple family. Then the holo-gram ended.

Cerasil reached out and gently clasped a hand on Obi-Wan’s shoulder, a silent reassurance. Obi-Wan’s jaw tightened with determination as he stared down at the holo-projector. He then slowly turned over to glance at the Young.

Nield had moved closer towards his other side, brow furrowed with thought. It was the same face he’d worn back when they’d plan for upcoming battles. The expression eased, however, as he stood in front of Obi-Wan. “You okay?”

“I didn’t know Bruck was in trouble. I didn’t expect to...” Obi-Wan cut himself off before the awful words could leave. 

‘I didn’t expect to care. I didn’t even expect Bruck to care. I don't know what to do with these sudden feelings.’ The unfinished sentence sat bitter in his mouth.

Nield seemed to sense the battle inside of Obi-Wan, and he reached to clasp Obi-Wan’s other shoulder. “We’ll do everything we can to help as well.”

“We are helping rescue him.” Joli said in the silence, squaring his shoulders.

Obi-Wan couldn’t help but note how it wasn’t even a question. 

Deila snorted. “Do we even have to say it aloud? Of kriffing course, we are saving one of Obi-Wan’s family.”

Obi-Wan let out a raspy exhale, not expecting the sledgehammer of emotion at those words. He nodded, head rising with a determined look. “Yes. You’re right. Yes, we are. Bruck is going to be just fine.”