Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The seedy underbelly of Coruscanta was like seedy metropolis underbellies everywhere: dank, grimy, and singularly uninspiring. There were, however, a pack of half-trained anoobas whose minds became welcoming and docile at a touch of Manda. Or Force, as he would have to get used to calling it, if he didn’t want to give up the game too soon.

Ben dropped to one knee and let furry snout after furry snout shove its way in front of his visor, whining for an ear rub or 5. He had no idea how they’d gotten here, but he wasn’t going to look a gift-anooba in the face.

(He was decidedly not thinking about how often he ate anooba kebabs while on Melidaan.)

When he stood to continue on, the anooabas slunk in his shadow, their bulk sending more than one sentient scurrying away.

Ben stepped into the first cantina on his list. The Yarkorian behind the bar tilted their head back, all the better to see him.

“Mando,” they said in greeting. “You’re a long way from home. I didn’t know your kind even came to the Core anymore.”

“Not usually,” Ben agreed, dipping his head. The noise in the cantina dimmed slightly as others turned to watch; Mandalorians truly were rather scarce in the Core these days.

“You see, I’m here for answers.”

He activated his comr’k. Ben’s blood had boiled after he’d seen what had been done to their friend, when Garen had brought him every last scrap of information he could get his hands on before his last big blow-out with Rhara.

The Yarkorian caught sight of the holo of Reeft’s body and exhaled heavily, sending their whiskers flying. At a mental nudge, an anooba began to growl. Soon enough, the sound was taken up by the rest of the pack. The cantina went deathly silent.

“Those answers? I’m not leaving without them.”

Chapter Text

Bail Antilles-Organa was surprisingly soft for someone every single ex-Republic Senator had named as the most capable successor to the Chancellorship. His dark eyes were kind and terribly lonely as he’d watched the holos his friends had recorded for him and wept.

But perhaps…that kindness was what the galaxy needed now as plot after plot of Palpatine’s was uncovered and brought to light, the depths of his depravity finally revealed. The Jedi and the Senate were scrambling to understand just how Palpatine had managed to hide so much for so long, right beneath their noses. They were missing the key information that Palpatine had also been Dar’jetii, but Ben had no intention of enlightening them quite so soon, not until he’d gotten the answers he’d come for.

Let them stew in their guilt, in their oversight, in their blindness; the more turmoil Coruscanta was in right now, the better. The underbelly had surprised him, with how much honour there had been among thieves - even if he’d had to speed things along by letting the anoobas chew on one or 8 different bounty hunters before he’d gotten some answers.

Ben lay on Antilles-Organa’s sofa with his head pillowed on his arm, smiling to himself as he eavesdropped on the older man’s whisper-shrieking conversation with his spouse, the Queen of Alderaan. It had probably been an oversight, as Antilles-Organa likely didn’t invite many unfamiliar beings back to his flat, but while its exterior was fully soundproofed, its interior walls were rather lacking. The man hadn't known what to do with him, but was too emotionally drained from watching his friends' holos to be anything more than resigned when Ben made it clear he'd be staying the night.

A better man would have stopped eavesdropping and mentioned it to his host, but a better man would also have just dropped off the datachip and left Antilles-Organa to his own devices. But Manda sang around him, and Ben had never even claimed to be a good man, let alone a better one.

All he did was snicker as the 2 began hissing at each other about competence kinks. Maybe Sy would also be amused; he'd have to mention this to the man during their comms.

He wasn’t terribly surprised to discover that Naberrie had gone into hiding on Alderaan, and that both Alderaanian Monarchs were involved (with her?) in her subterfuge. Sometimes, hiding in plain sight was uncannily effective (see: him). Speaking of which, he had a ‘diagnostic droid’ to pick up and a long day on the morrow. Ben settled in to sleep, smiling to himself as the sound of Antilles-Organa’s hissed conversation continued long into the night.

In the morning, he arrived at the Temple’s main entrance with his brand-new companion perched on his shoulder, only to find Narec already waiting. The man looked exactly as Komari and Fisto had described, having only caught a fleeting glimpse of him and his Padawan on Rattatak.

“Adika,” Narec said with a bow.

“Hello there,” he said, nodding in greeting. “Komari only had bad things to say about you and your Padawan, so I must say it's a pleasure to finally meet you, Narec." 

The pale man started at his words before he chuckled, ducking his head almost bashfully. Soft, soft, everywhere Ben turned they were all so soft. He wasn’t sure if he envied them for it or pitied them.

Then Narec caught sight of Solaris and blanched. “I’m so sorry, I wasn’t informed,” he said. “Are there any accommodations we will need to make for you?”

“This is Solaris,” Ben said, smiling at the droid sitting on his shoulder and gently petting a foot. It let out a low beep, sidling over to put more of its casing within easy reach. Ben’s smile widened at the non-verbal request and continued to pet it.

“It’s a diagnostic droid, not a helper droid. I don’t believe any accommodations are necessary at this time, although I will let you know if there are. Thank you for your consideration, Narec.”

The man inclined his head. “You’re most welcome,” he replied, and then gestured. “Please, this way.”

Ben might have been able to recall the path to the Archives, but it was safer to let Narec lead the way. As he passed the perimeter of Temple Guards lining the entrance, he inclined his head at the one closest to him. Their mask turned minutely in his direction, and then nodded back.

Surprisingly, Narec caught that little by-play.

“You’re acquainted with the Temple Guards?” he exclaimed as they made their way deeper into the Temple.

“In a matter of speaking,” Ben replied, and didn’t elaborate.

He’d run into a Temple Guard in the Coruscanta underbelly while chasing down bounty hunters, one masked face against another. The only reason why Ben hadn’t knocked them straight out was because the anoobas had yipped out a greeting, prancing over to greet them with wagging tails.

It hadn’t been just the touch of Manda the anoobas were responding to; they were more intelligent than that. Rather, it was the type of touch and the intention behind it that had tamed them.

“Hello,” the Guard said cautiously from where they’d knelt to return the anoobas’ enthusiastic greeting. “I didn’t think the anoobas liked anyone.”

Aside from them, was the implication. Their presence felt young, and wary.

“Someone trained them well,” Ben lauded. “I’m not really sure why they were trained in the first place, but they’re good creatures and make a wonderfully effective honour guard.”

He also may have left them crunch in a face or 6, but that was hardly going to make him friends right now.

“Might I know what you’re doing here?” they asked. “Mandalorians are scarce so far into the Core these days.”

Manda prodded him into answering.

“I’m here because my contact went missing,” he only partially-lied. “We were…tight, and he would not have disappeared so suddenly without warning. I only recently received word about the nature of his death, and find myself wanting answers.”

The Temple Guard carefully straightened. “Your contact?” they repeated. “Was he Dressellian?”

“Before you exclaim your surprise all over the place, I knew he was Jedi."

The Temple Guard felt like they were scowling. “I didn’t think Mandalorians would even want to be in contact with a Jedi."

Ben raised his eyebrows under his buy’ce. “And I didn’t think Temple Guards were given leave to conduct their own independent investigations. Last I heard, this was in the hands of the Council and the Coruscant Guard. Not that they’ve gotten very far.”

The Temple Guard turned aside, disappointment souring their mind. It was a little unfair that Ben was able to feel their mind so clearly while his was closed to them thanks to his beskar’gam, but he had never claimed to be fair. “If you know that, then you know why I’m here.”

Ben shook his head. “No, I don’t,” he gently replied. “Did my contact owe the Temple Guard something?”

“Yes,” they snapped out, “he owed us returning alive and well. Every one of those lights is ours to guard, and to think we failed one of them so badly, this one especially, least of all on Coruscant-!”

“I didn’t know he was known to the Temple Guard,” Ben murmured. “He never said.”

“He was kind.” They really did feel very young when they said that. “We knew he had been conducting an investigation, one that had him on high alert. We didn’t think to help.”

“He didn’t think to ask for it, either,” Ben said softly. “You aren’t the only ones who feel useless in the wake of his death.”

With effort, they straightened, forcefully pressing away their looming depression. Ben sincerely hoped all Jedi had equal access to Mind Healers, too; Reeft’s death had affected this Guard particularly badly.

“What have you found out?” they asked.

“The bounty hunters are a means to an end,” he said. “I might not like it, but they were just doing their jobs.”

“Just doing a job-!” they flared, but Ben held up a hand for patience.

“I told you, I don’t like it any more than you do, but if they were strictly professional - I can’t take their heads for competency. Bounty Hunters are hired to do the same all over the galaxy; it’s literally their job.”

The Temple Guard hissed. “Figured you’d side with scum like that, Mandalorian.”

Ben was unmoved by their vitriol. “Say what you like,” he evenly returned. “Chase the rats back to their holes, if you want. I’m more interested in who hired them, whose sins were uncovered. Not only that, I’m more interested in who gave the Bounty Hunters their information.”

“What do you mean?” An anooba stepped on the Guard's foot at their tone, whining.

“While our mutual friend wasn’t a Guardian or a Sentinel, that didn't make him easy to kill; he was a fully trained Jedi Knight. Bounty hunters, especially ones without the advantage of beskar, should never have been able to get the drop on him so easily. But they had. Not only that, they were able to knock him out, transport him to an alternate location, and then hold him, all without giving him the possibility of escape.”

The words burnt his tongue and he could tell the Temple Guard wasn’t unaffected, either.

“How did they know?”

“Because someone sold him out,” the Guard choked, dropping back down onto their haunches to wrap their arms around the anooba for comfort. The rest of the pack swarmed close, whining and nudging them with their snouts.

Ben inclined his head. “I’m not going to chase the bounty hunters; they’re small fry. The one who ordered the hit in the first place, and the Jedi who consulted - those are the heads I want.”

His words just made the Guard cling tighter to the anooba.

“You’re telling me this for a reason,” they rasped.

Ben nodded. “I expect my investigation will eventually take me to the Jedi Temple.”

They stared at him flatly. “You can’t expect to just waltz in like that.”

Ben smiled faintly. “As a matter of fact, I’ve already been invited in to consult with the Archives on a separate matter. I’ll even leave my armour at home for the occasion.”

“Who are you?” they demanded.

Ben spread his hands, palm-up.

“I’m just another sentient, trying to make my way through the universe.”

“That doesn’t tell me anything!” they exclaimed.

“I didn’t expect to meet you here,” he said truthfully, “let alone like this.” It was a boon - but a Manda-given boon, he knew that much. “I would request that I be given leave to enter the Temple without censure in my role as a consultant, and to investigate the death of my contact. I give you my word as a Mandalorian that I mean no harm to any Temple inhabitants, not even the bastard who betrayed him. Once I find out the source - I’ll turn over everything I have to you and let the Temple Guard make the arrest.”

Their hackles were up. “Won’t want to take them in yourself?”

“It’s not my jurisdiction to do so,” he said quietly. Ben could respect that, even if a part of him (heavily, heavily influenced by the dha’kad’au) still cried out for blood. “There are children and non-combatants in the Temple, and I don’t know the sentient traffic flow or how to cordon off corridors to prevent collateral damage. Besides, I don’t think you’re any less committed to bringing in whoever did this.”

The Guard swallowed, pressing their mask into the anooba’s shoulder. Another pawed at them, whining.

“What about the one who ordered the hit?” they asked, tugging that one in for a hug, too. “The Coruscant Guard is being hampered at every avenue by the Senate. There simply isn't any proof, and without probably cause, the Senators have every right to refuse to cooperate. Most of them have taken advantage of that.”

So the Guard already had some inkling or where the truth lay, even if they had no proof; good.

“I’m going to drag them into the light,” he said simply. “He was ner vod - he was my brother; that as good as merits me a blood feud. And no matter how much sentiment has turned against the Jetii recently, given the restrictions incurred - that brutal of a murder will turn it back again.”

“You’re going to use him,” the Guard whispered. It wasn’t quite an accusation, and yet-.

Ben drew a deep breath in an effort to centre himself.

“I don’t like that I have to,” he admitted. “Or rather, 'have' is a strong word, but it will make matters far easier to turn him into a martyr. Palpatine went to great lengths into making the Jetii the galaxy’s scapegoats. I think you were made fools of, but I also think that none of you are infallible.”

As Reeft so handily proved.

“I can’t agree to this,” they rasped, “not on my own.”

He nodded. “I understand.”

“You said- you said you were invited to the Temple, right?” they asked. “There’s a guardhouse on the fringe of the grounds-.”

“The one most don’t even recognise as part of the Temple?”

They were curious about him and wasn’t certain how they should feel about his knowing that so readily. “Yes,” they said slowly, “that one. When have you been invited to the Temple for your consultation?”

“Tomorrow,” Ben replied. He hadn’t wanted to linger on Coruscanta more than he had to.

They nodded. “I- no, we’ll have an answer for you then,” they said. “About the investigation, at least. If your consultation came through legitimate channels - you gave your word, Mandalorian.”

Ben nodded. “And I meant it, ori’haat." He had no lost love for any jetii outside of the Younglings, but it hardly meant that he wanted to endanger them, either.

The Guard nodded again. “Tomorrow,” they echoed. “May the Force be with you, Mandalorian.” They didn’t linger, bidding the anoobas a swift farewell and darting into the shadows.

Ben stared after them. The anooba they had been clinging too slunk towards him, insistently butting his thigh with its head. He sighed, falling to one knee as he scratched behind its ears.

“May the Force be with you,” he whispered for the first time in over a decade.

Disentangling himself from the anoobas would be the hardest task he'd faced thus yet.

In the morning, Ben hadn't gone straight to the Temple from Antilles-Organa's flat. He had a quick pitstop to make first, to pick up his ‘diagnostic-droid’, Solaris.

Solaris was a Shard, a silicon-based species native to Orax, that the dha’kad’au had guided the Mando’ad to all those years ago. After Komari had made them aware of the Darkness and depravity that had been building on Coruscanta and Mustafar, Yan had contacted the Shard to ask if they had any guidance on this matter. In a speedrun of a decision (for the Shard, at least), Yan received a reply in 6 months, and the result of that was Solaris.

Solaris was currently occupying the body of a BD-unit that could perch quite comfortably on his shoulder. It had hitched a ride to Coruscanta with a group of traders Mando'ad knew would ask no questions, and spent its entire trip tinkering with the droid body to carve out a habitable space for itself and its Solari crystal.

Solari crystals were some of the rarest kyber crystals in the galaxy, and only a Light-sided Manda-touched sentient would be able to use one. Solaris had had its crystal for centuries, but its mind felt incredibly different from Yoda’s, who was Ben's only other point of reference for an ancient mind.

(No, the dha’kad’au didn’t count; it was opinionated, not intelligent.)

Solaris’s mind was like a cloud of Light that could infuse its surroundings if it wasn’t careful, and using its crystal as a focus for meditation over the centuries had just amplified its power. That was why Solaris had only recently emerged from isolation; its presence could suffuse Lightness into everyone within its range, and Shard on the other side of the planet had been able to feel it. Light-side or not, Solaris was still addling other’s minds, and as a result had learnt to keep a tight leash on their own presence.

“Su cuy, Solaris,” were the first words Ben said to it. “You’re a sentient older than all my buir'e put together, but you’re also in the possession of a very small, very cute droid body. I have a tendency to pet small, cute things. Please let me know if you would like me to refrain from doing so and I will.”

Humans did so enjoy their pack bonds.

“...uh, sure, let’s go with that.”

You may pet me.

“Thank you, Solaris.” He promptly began stroking the top of its chassis, the repetitive movement soothing to him.

A chime reverberated in his head.

This is more pleasurable than I expected.

“More pets?”

More pets.

Ben could do that. Ben could totally do that.

Entering the Temple with Solaris wouldn’t be a problem; their Light was blinding and would steer everyone away from his business. The only potential problem had been the dha’kad’au.

“I have more bounty hunters to question later,” he'd bargained. “We can play good cop, bad cop, and I’ll let you be bad cop.”

It had merely grumbled in his head, still discontent. Time to bring out the big guns.

“The Jedi Archive has Tarre Viszla’s holocron,” he'd wheedled. Sy had been openly reluctant to admit to it, only confirming his suspicions after Ben had sworn not to remove it with violence.

The dha'kad'au went still against him, not unlike a strill on the hunt.

“If you don't behave, we’re not going to get anywhere near the Temple, let alone the holocron.”

It had subsided with one last growl just as they approached the guardhouse, the exterior of which appeared to be little more than a shack. Ben rapped his knuckles against the doorframe and then stepped back, awaiting permission to enter.

The door swung inwards, blocking sight of its occupants. That was undoubtedly the point.

He stepped in anyway, and was greeted with 5 identical masks.

“Well then,” he said, tucking his hands into his sleeves. “I suppose ‘hello’ is as good a place to start as any.”

“Mandalorian?”

The minds of all 5 Guards felt identical. He wasn’t certain if this was a side effect of their training or if the Guard he’d met yesterday had been young and on their own.

Ben inclined his head. “I go by ‘Adika’. That name’s a little less eyebrow-raising than ‘Mandalorian’.”

“Adika,” the Guard agreed. “And your helper droid?”

Ben patted Solaris. “Diagnostic, actually. It’s powered by a kyber crystal, one willingly sourced.”

“I didn’t know kyber crystals could be used for that,” another Guard said, stepping forward so that their mask could peer at Solaris, who chirped at the attention.

“Solaris is sentient,” Ben added.

“Oh!” the Guard exclaimed. “That’s not Binary, though.”

“No, it isn’t,” Ben agreed. “Solaris is here to help with my consultation with the Jedi Archives.”

All at once, he had the 5 Guards’ attention pinned back on him. “Narec cleared the consultation with Master Nu,” yet another Guard said. “You know him?”

“He knows of me,” Ben gently corrected. It likely wouldn’t do Narec any favours for their relationship to be misconstrued before they had even met. “We have never met in person and, as far as I know, he is requesting my assistance for a legitimate matter. If he isn’t, you’ll have to take it up with him; sounds like you know him better than I do.”

"That matter - do you truly believe you can help where all others have failed?"

That was promising.

"I only know what Narec wrote of the situation, having been on the Outer Rim at the time. I haven't made Narec any promises and I won't make you any, either, but Solaris and I are here to help how we can."

“We will stay apprised of your consultation,” a Guard said, before changing the subject completely. “What headway have you made in your investigation into Reeft’s murder, and what was your connexion?”

Ben raised his eyebrows. “As I told your compatriot yesterday, Reeft was a contact of mine, and we were friendly.”

“Lie,” a Guard declared. “What was your connexion?”

“I don’t feel comfortable disclosing it to you,” he retorted. “I want answers, same as you. Won’t that suffice?”

“What lengths will you go to to find them?”

Ben openly rolled his eyes. “I’m not in the habit of torturing and murdering sentients in retribution, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

The Guards’ training couldn’t quite hide their ripple at his words; they had all to a one been very badly affected by Reeft’s death.

Ben sighed, shoulders sagging.

“Ni ceta,” he said softly. “That was both unkind and uncalled for. I told your compatriot where my suspicions lay: in the Senate and in the Temple. I expect one to lead me in the direction of the other.”

“This is unprecedented,” a Guard said.

“I imagine so,” Ben agreed. “I can understand your reluctance in permitting a Mandalorian into the Jedi Temple, but I’ll swear by your Force, if you want me to. The only sentient I have any ill-will towards is the one who sold Reeft out, and even then, I’ll leave their arrest to your extremely competent selves.”

“Flattery is unnecessary, Adika.”

“Truth,” he countered. “I know many a Mandalorian who would admire your discipline.” He paused. “Would you be willing to share what headway you have made?”

The Guards seemed to glance at each other without their masks ever once moving.

“As our brethren mentioned, we are attempting to pursue the Senate angle through the underground. Despite the initial outrage and push for more information, the Senators we would most like to question have exercised their right to deny cooperating in our investigation. We...did not consider the possibility of an inside job,” they admitted reluctantly.

“No one likes to think of traitors,” Ben said simply. “I don’t have any sentimentality where that’s concerned, though. And as for the Senate, I’m working to have them charged publicly in an open session.”

“You know who it is?” a Guard exclaimed.

“I have my suspicions,” he said carefully. “I’m still gathering evidence to corroborate my theory, though. The case has to be airtight and I don’t want to spook them prematurely, so I’m taking my time on that account.”

A Guard straightened. “What do you need from us, then?”

“You know your jetiise better than I do,” he said bluntly. “Now that you are aware it was an inside job, recalculate. Reassess. I’ll come to you when I can gather more details independently and I hope that we’ll be able to meet in the middle.”

The Guard paused. “What you told my brethren about the arrest-.”

Ben shook his head. “Reeft wouldn’t want his murderer brought to justice at the expense of more deaths,” he said. “You know how to handle Temple traffic better than I do; it was a no-brainer.”

The Guard slowly nodded. “And the matter of the bounty hunters you are currently tracking? Our brethren also said that you wanted to let them go.” He didn’t think he was imagining the blood lust in the air at that.

How positively un-jetii.

Ben sighed. “My arguments from yesterday haven’t changed today. Once I find those responsible - if they acted within the limits of their contract, there is no case. I can tell them to get the kriff off Coruscant; I should be able to manage that much. If they went beyond that, either in this contract or another, I’ll turn over what evidence I have to you and the Coruscant Guard, but they simply aren't my priority.”

"They should be," another Guard snarled.

“Bounty hunters literally have a license for this sort of behaviour,” Ben muttered. “I can’t believe you’re standing here and making me defend their business.”

“Why are you?” they demanded.

“Because I can recognise and respect professionalism,” he sighed, attempting to run one hand through his hair, only to be stymied by his braid. “Look, can we table this discussion for another day? We’re approaching my meeting time with Narec, so I just want to know if you’re going to let me into the Temple today. We can revisit this on a day-by-day basis, if it would make you happier.”

“You’re being very accommodating, for a Mandalorian,” a Guard commented.

“I’m coming into your home and will very likely kick up a very big fuss at some point in the nearby future,” Ben said dryly. “I’m not completely blind to social niceties.”

“We will discuss your words,” another Guard said, “but you will be permitted into the Temple today. We will expect you at the Guardhouse before every appointment at the Archives.”

Ben nodded slowly. “Alright. Is there a comm ID I could use to contact your group? In the event I have any information I will need to transmit. Before you ask, I don’t have a permanent ID.”

“How surprising,” a Guard muttered, even as they projected a comm ID for him to record.

Ton-Toln had helped him set up the programme he was using, that piggybacked off scrambled comm IDs to send encrypted messages and deleted them after delivery. It was a good way of staying anonymous when contacting others; not so great for others trying to contact you. Thankfully, Ben also had his personal comm for contacting his aliit, not that the Guards needed to know that.

He didn’t bother addressing the Guard’s comment directly, simply nodded in their general direction. “Good talk,” he said. “Let's never do this again until we absolutely have to."

Chapter Text

“-dika? Adika!”

Ben started to attention, glancing up at Narec.

“I’m afraid I was lost in thought,” he murmured. “The Temple is…”

“Oh!” Narec exclaimed, immediately taking the bait. “I imagine it must be quite overwhelming for someone who’s never been here before.”

Ben smiled faintly, readily taking Narec's offered excuse and making of a show of looking around them. He’d wondered, in his heart of hearts, how he would feel returning to the Temple after all this time. He certainly hadn’t broken down in tears. Ben felt the dha’kad’au roll its metaphorical eyes at him, and Solaris twitterd its laughter at their little by-play.

“It’s got quite distinctive architecture,” he offered.

“Oh!” Narec exclaimed again, his eyes brightening. “The current temple is over 3000 years old, but its origins began almost 2000 years earlier,” he started, launching into lecture mode. The man was clearly happy to share Jetii history, recounting where this and that architectural style came from, pointing out the cultural nods and nuances gathered from across the universe. There were a number of anecdotes Narec shared that neither Solaris nor the dha’kad’au was aware of, the 2 listening keenly alongside him.

“You’re very knowledgeable,” Ben commented when the man paused for breath.

“I’m sorry,” Narec said at once, his shoulders tensing, “I’ve gone on too long, haven’t I? I didn’t mean to get carried away, I know not everyone shares my interests.”

“I wasn't asking for an apology, that's not what I meant at all, Narec,” Ben said softly, touching his shoulder. “Thank you for sharing your knowledge. I was just - surprised. I can’t imagine much of this is common knowledge.”

Narec laughed awkwardly, ducking his head. “No, not at all, but I am an Archivist. I don’t know if Knight Vosa told you but I’ve been based on Jedha for the past few years. The distance from Coruscant has granted me some clarity of thought, and I’ve been fortunate enough to establish myself as, well. A collector of diverse perspectives and varying Force traditions, I suppose. It's made me a bit of a heretic in some circles, but on the bright side, no one questions me when I wade through the bustle of the Temple with unfamiliar persons."

Ben raised his eyebrows and then blatantly scanned the wide-open hallway before them, empty except for a bare handful of jetiise, with only the very softest, gentlest susurrus of voices to indicate there were more beings around.

“Wade through the bustle,” he repeated.

Narec giggled nervously. “Well-.”

One corner of Ben’s mouth twitched, and he lightly nudged the older man. “To each their own, Narec.”

The older man ducked his head. “Thank you, Adika,” he mumbled. “By the way,” he added, glancing at him, “you didn’t need to blend in like this. You could have worn whatever you were comfortable in.”

Ben just shrugged. Under the rough overrobe typical to the Jedi, he also wore beige Mirialan tunics, which were the most fitted iteration of Jedi garb he’d been able to find. The hood allowed him to cover his distinctive hair, even, and he could draw comfort from how the tunics on the whole reminded him of a flimsier flightsuit.

“I didn’t want to stand out, particularly at such a time,” he admitted. “I think your younglings have more than enough to worry about already.”

Narec’s face predictably softened at that. “Yes, of course, and thank you for thinking of them. I will say, however, that the procession of other Force-sensitives has drawn more delight than wariness.” He chuckled. “Our younglings are resilient and endlessly curious, and we were even able to convince some of our visitors to run introductory classes into their Force practices. It was quite an enlightening time for everyone.”

Ben raised his eyebrows. “Aren't the Jedi a religious order? I didn’t think you would take so kindly to others sharing their faiths.”

“We don’t worship the Force the way another religion might their god,” Narec explained, "although I suppose it can get confusing sometimes, with idioms like, ‘May the Force be with you’ and 'Force willing'. Besides, I don’t think any Jedi would turn down the opportunity to learn more about another’s culture, and all the galaxy are our neighbours.” His smile dimmed. “Even if we haven’t been as hospitable towards the Outer Rim as we would have liked.”

Ben did not have the capacity to unpack all of that right now, and so set Narec’s words aside to meditate over later.

“Your thoughts are kind,” he simply murmured, letting the conversation lapse between them as they continued on.

They made their way towards the Archives without incident. He hadn’t been a common visitor to them as an Initiate and Nu had been a sort of bogeyman-figure to them, having nabbed him and Quin by the backs of their tunics more than a handful of time for running in her shelvess.

“How much do you know about the situation?” Narec asked.

"About as much as you wrote, and hearsay about the blackout situation," he replied. "I understand you had to be more discreet about the details given what I've managed to glean, but I didn't make any promises in my reply for a reason. Yes, I've travelled widely and my diagnostic droic, even wider," he added, patting one of Solaris's feet, "but I would like to keep my judgement in reserve until I've gauged the matter for myself." He paused, considering what he'd learnt of Narec in the short time since they'd met.

“I have to admit, I’m a little surprised you reached out at all. It’s only been months. Surely the Orders’ resources haven’t been exhausted yet.”

Narec smiled faintly. “You’d be surprised. Archivist Nu is both very knowledgeable of the content of her Archives and very driven. We’ve contacted Dorin and Chalacta and Jedha and Corellia and we’ve had all manners of Force experts come and examine the nexus, but they can’t find any reason for the blackout to have happened." He glanced sideways. "There was a bit of an incident a few years back in the lower levels. Did you- when you arrived on Coruscant, did you feel-?"

"Oh, I felt it," Ben said. "I could've felt it deaf, dumb, and blind."

Narec snorted, ducking his head to hide his amusement.

"Is that so?"

Ben didn’t flinch - mostly because both Solaris and the dha’kad’au had sensed Nu coming, but Narec yelped his surprise, leaping straight into the air.

“You must be Archivist Nu,” he said, turning to face her. The woman was utterly unchanged from his childhood memories, right down to her tight bun, golden tabards, and severe expression. The dha’kad’au snidely added that she hadn’t been here when it had been. Ben ignored it - again.

“Narec’s consultant, I take it?” She raised an eyebrow at him.

Ben inclined his head. “Adika. A pleasure, Archivist.”

“Hmmph,” she sniffed, before turning away. “Follow me.”

Narec caught his eye and winced apologetically.

“Keep up!”

Narec flinched, and then scurried after Nu. “Coming, Archivist!”

Nu led them below the Archives, lower, into the bowels of the Temple. The lower Ben got, the more…disquiet he felt. Not to mention how this was on top of the general fog of Darkness on Coruscant. He didn’t quite have another word for it, but he could tell it was a feeling shared by Narec, although Nu was harder to read.

The man’s head was bowed, shoulders hunched as if he were bracing for a blow. Ben held out a hand to where Solaris was perched on his shoulder, and the droid hopped onto his hand, hunkering down to cuddle in his arms. Ben opened his mind to it and was relieved to feel its Light, which was such a respite among the growing uneasiness. 

Solaris let out a low, melancholy whistle.

He gently stroked its chassis. “I know,” he murmured.

“Is your diagnostic droid alright?” Narec asked, curiosity winning out over his discomfort.

“It's comforting me," Ben corrected. "But we’ve both been better." 

In all honesty, he was really only here because humanoids with esoteric Force knowledge were easier to explain away than a kad’au that had been stolen about a millennia ago and a sentient crystal.

Yes, he had travelled prolifically, to Orax and Jedha, and Yan had taken him to Ossus and Yavin and Ahch-To and nearly every other Jedi-adjacent planet on the Outer Rim and a fair few Sith ones, too (Dathomir was on both their to-do lists), but he was quite aware that his knowledge paled in comparison to the literal hundreds and thousands of years both Solaris and the dha'kad'au had on him.

“What do you know of the Force, Adika?” Nu called from where she was still ahead of them, stride undiminished.

“That it’s called a thousand other things in a thousand other cultures,” he said dryly. “Jedi don’t have custody over it.”

“Oh?” Nu said, unperturbed. “What do you call it, then?”

“Convenient.” he retorted. “I’m- sensitive, not religious.” Manda had been a lodestone to him at times, a swearword at others, but it had never been a god.

Nu sent Narec an appraising look. “I’m beginning to see why you insisted on confidentiality for this consultation.” At her words, the man winced.

Ben glanced his way. “What did you tell her about me?”

“That you were a non-denominational expert an acquaintance suggested I contact,” Narec mumbled. “I mean, I didn’t really know much more than that.”

Fair enough.

"I'm actually just a farmer," he added, because it was always hilarious to watch people react to that line. He'd done other things, too, but ironically, the Melidaan fields had been one of his greatest passions over the past decade. Narec didn't disappoint, eyes bulging and mouth falling open. Even Nu appeared taken aback, having stopped in her tracks to peer at him.

"A...farmer?" Narec echoed uncertainly.

He shrugged, biting back a grin while the dha'kad'au snickered in the back of his mind and Solaris hummed out its amusement. “Yes, I’ve been farming since I was…” Ben actually had to think about it for awhile. Some of his earliest memories of the fields were his best ones of Nield, too, the 2 of them alone with the ground beneath them and the heat of the sun on their faces.

He shrugged again. “Since I was about 15, I think. What else were you expecting?"

"I'm sorry," Narec said instantly, looking chagrined. "I allowed my expectations to cloud my judgement."

Well now, that wouldn't do at all; he hadn't meant to make the man quail with mortification. 

"Narec, no, I was just teasing."

Narec glanced at him. "So...you're not a farmer?"

Ben couldn't help but chuckle. "No, I absolutely am, but the Force as you call it - it’s always been a lifestyle, not a religion. I'm not saying that sensitivity makes me any better- but neither do I think it makes me worse."

The small talk took his mind off the leadenness creeping up his feet, weighing down his limbs, encroaching upon his heart. Solaris's Light was a steady glow against his mind and the dha'kad'au burnt a line along his spine, willing him not to forget its presence.

I couldn't even if I tried, Ben thought fondly at it, and felt it smugly settle against him. He took what comfort he could even as the numbness left his feet unsteady and he had to pause for a moment, one hand on the wall for balance as he fought for breath.

“This is...making it very difficult to breathe,” he rasped, blinking past the spots wandering in and out of his vision.

"Are you alright, Adika?" Narec asked.

"No," he swallowed, "not at all. This-." He turned so his back was to the wall and tipped his head up, fighting for breath. Solaris was vibrating in his arms, struggling to hold back its Light against the growing Dark and reveal itself for what it truly was.

"The Kel Dors were the only others who reacted so strongly," Nu commented.

"I hardly think I'm more sensitive than Baran Do sages, so there must be another explanation for my reaction," Ben pressed out. He grimaced, grounding the back of his head against the wall, hoping the pain would block out the growing headache. “I apologise, I-.” He ground his head against the wall again. “Is it very much further?”

“The nexus is several levels down, yes,” Nu said.

Ben squeezed his eyes shut. “I will probably vomit if we go any further, or pass out. Or both. I’m sorry, I know I’m here to view the nexus, but-.” He had to pause to swallow back a wave of bile that hit him.

“Can I help you up?” Narec offered.

“I will not be much use,” he groaned.

“That’s quite alright, Adika,” Narec said, putting an arm under his shoulders to lift him. Solaris let out a startled beep, hopping up his arm to keep its balance. “Oh! I’m sorry, little one.”

“I’m sorry,” Ben rasped, his head hanging low. The dha’kad’au did not take well to the encroaching Darkness, and it was a relief that every shaky step he took back towards the Archives had him breathing that much easier.

“How,” he demanded when he had the breath to do so, “are neither of you reacting to this?”

Nu looked down her nose at him. “The Force protects and guides.”

Ben grimaced. “That’s not a matter of- do you not even feel that oppressive Darkness choking you?”

Narec was still bearing most of his weight and when he tripped over his own feet, Ben nearly flew face-first into the wall.

“I’m so sorry!” the man exclaimed, barely catching the 2 of them in time.

“Choking, you said?” Nu asked, her eyes sharp.

Ben was pressed up against Narec, could feel how the man’s hands were trembling. “Are you alright?” he asked instead of answering Nu’s question.

“I’m- I’m fine,” Narec blatantly lied.

“Choking, Adika,” Nu insisted.

“My limbs were growing numb, I was struggling to breathe, and my head is still pounding,” he said flatly. “Is that what you wanted to hear?”

Nu only nodded. “Help him to the Halls, Narec.”

Ben frowned. “What halls?”

“Of healing,” Narec said quietly. “Please, Adika. I think it would give us all peace of mind if you were seen to by a Healer before you left the Temple.”

His frown deepened. “Truly, though? Neither of you felt anything?”

“I did,” Narec confessed softly. “I always do, but I think I’ve been building up a bit of a resistance after having gone down there so any times.”

That was hardly something to be proud of. “You said the Kel Dors were affected, too?”

“Corellia wasn’t,” Narec admitted. “Some of the Chalactan Sages were uneasy, and 2 of the Baran Do Sages could not reach the nexus.” He hesitated, before adding, “I invited the Bishop of the Guardians of the Whills. He refused to even leave Jedha, claiming that the Force was not in balance.”

Ben hadn’t been to Jedha in over 5 years. “Did any of the Guardians come?”

“They were given leave to come, yes, and a pair of them did. They did make it down to the nexus, but neither of them were Force-sensitive.”

Ben nodded carefully, wary of his throbbing head. “What was their feedback?” he asked. “When was the last time you cleansed the nexus?”

Narec was still assisting him, which gave him a front row seat to the abject confusion on the older man’s face. “Cleanse?”

“Cleanse,” Ben repeated. "The nexus?"

Nu’s expression was severe. “Surely you understand the academic integrity of maintaining the status quo until we fully understand the situation.”

“...to a certain extent, yes, but when was the last time you cleansed the nexus, before this blackout situation occurred?”

Narec was still staring at Nu blankly. “…has the nexus ever been cleansed?”

Ben’s mouth fell open.

“In all these thousands of years?” he asked in disbelief, his voice growing higher in pitch. “Even at the very start, after that big Sith war thing? Why would you - you raise younglings here.”

Nu turned aside. “I will have to discuss this with the Council,” she finally said, looking her age. “I…do not recall, but I could be wrong. I hope I am wrong.” She shook her head.

“I don't think any academic integrity could be worth that risk,” Ben said lowly. “And I’m- I live on the Outer Rim. The others who were also so affected were from further out from the Core. It’s an unpleasant thought - but what does that mean for your Order, who’ve been steeped in this for a millennia?”

Nu spat out a curse. Narec looked startled - but also like he had a few curses of his own to spit out.

“It’s times like this that I wish Sy was here.”

Ben bit his tongue hard enough to taste blood.

“Sy, Archivist?” Narec asked.

“Sifo-Dyas,” Nu supplied, passing a hand over her eyes.

Narec blanched. “You mean the, uh, High Councillor who- um.”

Nu sighed, but she did look reluctantly amused. “The one who’s missing, yes.” She turned away. “I know what they say, but I choose to believe he’s still out in the galaxy somewhere, being a pain like the rest of our crechemates.”

Thankfully, Narec kept the conversation ongoing and the attention turned away from him.

“Your crechemates, Archivist?”

“You might have heard of some of the obnoxious twats," she snorted. “Apart from Sy, there’s Dooku, of course, and Diath-.”

Narec choked and stumbled. Ben, still leaning against him, was nearly slammed into a wall again.

“I am so sorry!” Narec exclaimed, quickly hauling him upright before he landed on the Temple floor face-first. Solaris chirped, shuffling from foot-to-foot for balance. “I’m sorry, I should have watched where I was going. You aren’t injured, are you?”

“I’m fine, Narec,” Ben said, lifting one hand to support Solaris. “I didn’t mean to interrupt your conversation.”

“I think Narec did all the interrupting on his own,” Nu said dryly, causing the older man to duck his head.

“Are crechemates childhood friends, Archivist Nu?” Ben asked, drawing her ire away from Narec.

The woman wrinkled her nose. “Childhood acquaintances might be more accurate. Not all friendships persist through the years, and children form relationships for very different reasons than adults do.”

“You aren’t close, I take it?”

Nu looked straight ahead. “They haven’t been around for me to be close to, apart from Sy. And now he’s gone, too.”

Yan had never mentioned Jocasta Nu to him, but then again, Yan rarely spoke of jetii to him; Ben knew he spoke far more freely to Jaster and Khal.

Sy, though.

He had known Reeft, however tangentially, and he had spoken of Nu and her Archives with a fond smile. Maybe he would be glad to hear that he was more missed than he’d expected.

“I will leave you here,” Nu said at the entrance to the Archives. “I will speak to the Council on the matter of cleansing the nexus; this is not an undertaking the Archives can do alone. If your services are required again, I expect Narec knows how to contact you.”

Ben glanced at Narec. The man offered him a tentative smile.

“Yes, he does.”

Nu’s stern façade had returned. “Get Adika to the Halls, Narec,” she instructed, and then turned on her heel. Once she was out of sight, the older man sighed, his shoulders sagging.

“Narec?” Ben began. ”Actually, I’m feeling a lot better. I don’t really need to see a Healer-.”

Solaris interrupted him with a loud whistle. Ben just sighed. Khal wasn’t even here and they hadn't even met.

Narec sent him an apologetic smile. “Your droid has the right idea of it,” he said. “And I daren’t go against Archivist Nu. As mentioned, I think it would give us all peace of mind if you saw a Healer, no matter how briefly.”

Ben sighed again, louder than the last. Narec seemed to realise his resignation, letting out a nervous giggle.

“But you are feeling better?”

He nodded, still taking care with his head. “Yeah, thankfully. I’m glad I don’t still feel like I did.” He gingerly drew away from Narec, testing if he could stand on his own. Solaris shuffled its feet, whistling at him. Ben reached up to scratch the front of its chassis, bending his mind towards it in appreciation.

“I am, thank you both,” he said. “Could I ask what it felt like for you, down below the Archives?”

Narec led the way to the Halls, a pensive look on his face.

“I have felt Darkness before,” he said quietly. “I mentioned there was an incident a few years ago? I was involved then, and it wasn’t just difficult to breathe, I felt like I was actively being strangled at times. At the nexus, though…it was oppressive, and heavy.” One corner of his mouth twitched. “My trachea remained intact this time, so I counted it as a win.”

“...that is an incredibly low bar, Narec.”

The man laughed awkwardly. “My Padawan told me that, too. As did my Mind Healer. And- well. I think you get the point.” He paused again, fingers twitching. “Actually, I was wondering.”

“Narec?”

“You’ve come all this way,” he said, “just for you to be ill.”

Ben clicked his tongue. “That was hardly your fault.” Besides, he would have come to Coruscant for Reeft anyway, not that the man knew that.

“I was thinking,” Narec continued, staring at the floor in front of them, “that you expressed some interest in the Temple architecture. Archivist Nu and the Council might not be able to give you a prompt answer - and if we do cleanse the nexus, that will take even more time, too. Since you’ve come all this way - perhaps you would like to learn more about the Temple's history? If you have the time, that is.”

Ben couldn’t help but stare.

Answer him, Solaris nudged him when Narec continued to fidget under his gaze.

“I- really?” he squeaked out. “I- wouldn’t be overstepping?”

“Not at all,” Narec reassured him. “After all, I invited you.”

The Temple had been his home, once; he’d grown up within these walls. He’d managed to stay composed during the initial walkthrough, but there was no telling how he’d be for the rest of it. What did he even want from- no, he was getting too ahead of himself.

“If I’m welcome,” Ben said slowly. The Guards might have a different opinion. “I’ll- I’ll let you know my availability. Thank you for the offer, Narec. It wasn’t- I hadn’t expected it.”

Narec smiled. “I’ve spent the past few years collating Force traditions from across the galaxy, and we really are more similar than we think. The Jedi aren’t meant to be aloof or distant from the general populace. If we could change one mind at a time - I would be grateful for that much.”

“What were you hoping to change my mind on?” Ben asked cautiously.

“Oh! That Jedi are students of the universe. That we value what the individual has to say, the culture they carry with them.”

“...has anyone ever mentioned how you’re a bit of an idealist, Narec?”

The man laughed, self-deprecating. “It’s come up a few times.”

“I appreciate what you’re trying to do,” he thought aloud, “and I don’t doubt that you mean well. But I can’t help but wonder - is such a perspective widespread amongst the Jedi?”

He could give Narec this - he consistently appeared concerned about the place of Jetii in the wider universe, and he had lived in the Mid Rim for several years now. But apart from Yan and Komari and that group headed by Yan's old crechemates, Ben had never even heard of another jetii on the Outer Rim.

They had reached the Halls, and the first Healer they ran into was an amiable Quarren, who easily agreed to check him over. This gave Narec time to think his words over - he clearly needed this time, given the troubled expression he wore. As the Quarren looked him over, Ben absently wondered if he’d run into Bant and they’d have to pretend not to know each other. She was good at subterfuge, but she wasn’t fond of its necessity.

“You’re in excellent health,” the Quarren declared, smiling broadly. Well, Khal would be pleased with that, at least.

“Thank you, Llewyl,” Narec said, nodding at him. “Shall we?”

They left the Halls, uninterrupted, and continued towards the main entrance in silence before Narec’s curiosity clearly got the better of him and he asked, “Could I know what you meant about my perspective not being widespread amongst the Jedi?”

Ben looked straight ahead. “If all Jedi truly thought themselves students of the universe, they would be out there in the universe. But I’ve never seen a Jedi out on the Rim.” Yan and Komari didn’t count, they were aliit, and Sy was Mando’ad now. And according to Yan, the Council wasn't even aware his old crechemate was alive half the time.

Narec flinched.

“I didn’t mean to upset you,” Ben said softly. “You’ve been nothing but kind.”

“It’s…a work in progress,” the man mumbled. “Although - if Archivist Nu mentions the matter of proximity to the Council - she’ll want to feel the difference in the Force for herself, I think. And I'm really hoping that will be the advent of much-needed change. Things are changing,” he babbled, "slowly, but they are."

“I have no doubt that you believe that," Ben offered. "And the Force feels very different here on Coruscant, like smoke and banked embers.”

“That doesn’t sound particularly pleasant.”

“It isn’t,” he said bluntly. "You must have felt the difference, coming from Jedha."

Narec glanced away. "I have been travelling to and fro quite often. The- the differences lessen each time."

They drew to a stop by the gate, Ben biting back a sigh at feeling the Guards immediately focus on him.

“Oh dear,” Narec muttered.

“They don’t get visitors often, do they?”

“That’s not quite true,” Narec replied. “I brought in my fair share of visitors, and we do get visitors quite often. At least to the public spaces in the Temple.”

“I’ll just take my leave before they make me take it, then.”

Narec offered up his palm. “Please, Adika, do let me know if your schedule permits additional visits. I would love to hear more about what home is like for you, and it’s so rare that we get an honest, external perspective of the Jedi. Truly, I think we have plenty to learn from each other.”

Ben had to remind himself to shake the man’s hand and not grip his forearm like he would a vod.

“I am glad to have met you, Narec,” he said honestly. “We’ll meet again, your Force willing.”

Narec’s smile widened. “I can show you around the public areas of the Temple - you said you were a farmer? I think the gardens and the greenhouses would-.”

Whatever the gardens and greenhouses might have been would be forever lost to Manda. The dha’kad’au bleated out an alarm and Ben stepped aside just in time to avoid being flattened by a green blur streaming lekku, who hoisted Narec up in a warm hug.

“Narec!” the being exclaimed, lifting the man clear off his feet. “I’d heard you were back from Jedha, it’s so good to see you again!”

Oh.

He’d never met Fisto face-to-face, only ever seen him beside Bant in their infrequent holos. In-person, the Nautolan was both bigger and broader than he had expected, practically radiating good cheer. Solaris liked him immediately while the dha’kad’au continued to grumble in the back corner of his mind.

“Teacher Fisto!” Narec squeaked. “Please put me down; I was in the middle of a meeting.”

“Oh, my apologies,” Fisto replied, turning a megawatt grin in Ben’s direction, although he had not let Narec down. “I’m afraid I was just…too…excited…”

Ben offered him a rueful smile. He’d sent Bant a coded message through their backdoor transmission, but apparently she hadn’t read it yet; or at least she hadn’t told Fisto about it yet.

“Fisto,” Narec insisted, still trying to wriggle out of the Nautolan’s hold, “please.”

Fisto dropped the man back onto his feet.

“Hi,” Fisto said, sidling closer, hand extended. “I’m afraid we haven’t met.”

Ben shook his hand briskly, or tried to. Fisto…didn’t quite want to let go. “Adika,” he returned. “Consultant.”

“Consultant?” Fisto was still sidling closer, those big eyes of his going hooded and intrigued. “What exactly do you…consult for?”

Was he- was Fisto actually flirting with him? He did know who Ben was, didn’t he? And he still hadn’t let go of his hand?

“Fisto,” Narec said firmly, stepping between them and finally forcing the Nautolan to drop his hand, “Adika was just leaving.”

“Oh?” Fisto perked up. “I could escort you-.”

“I have a prior engagement,” Ben swiftly lied, “thank you.” He nodded at Narec. “Thank you for your time, Narec.”

“I look forward to seeing you again, Adika,” the man replied.

“I’m sure we’ll see each other around, too,” Fisto called, a wide grin spreading across his face as a scandalised look spread across Narec’s, and the man began to bustle him backwards into the Temple. “I can’t wait to meet you again, Adika!”

Ben was going to tell Bant everything and watch her roast him.

Chapter Text

“You look like haran,” Ben said bluntly when he met Garen down at Dex’s, gripping the man by his nape and gently bringing them together in kov’nyn. Garen looked even worse up close, bruised skin pulled too tightly over his bones, once-long hair shorn to stubble. “Bant really let you out of the medbay looking like this?”

Garen exhaled, resting against him. “This is better already. Besides, she was too busy ripping Master Kit another one.”

Ben snickered at the reminder.

“Did he really try and flirt with you?”

Ben snickered harder, taking care not to jostle his old friend too much. “For a moment there, I thought he hadn’t recognised me and was about to throw Narec at him in a bid to save myself.”

Garen laughed alongside him - or tried to, his laughter cutting off mid-breath as he groaned, clutching at his ribs.

“Stop moving, ord’inii,” Ben huffed, carefully easing them both down onto the bench, gathering Garen up against him. “You’re a mess; we should have gotten your entire corps out after that last one.”

Garen swallowed. “The dead don't come back to life. And I wouldn’t have been here to see- I needed to see Reeft for myself, y’know?”

Unfortunately, Ben did know.

“Besides, Siri looks worse.”

“She’s already out, escorting Chuchi to Pantora.”

“I'm halfway there, just one last big blow-out to end things on a high note,” Garen said, smirking thinly. “Wasn’t fair how only Quin got to play drama queen last time.” He paused, fingers tugging at the imitation Jedi robes Ben was wearing. “How is he?”

“Better than when Ahlora ba’vodu found him and Tholme on Ryloth,” he replied. “He’ll be even better once he lays eyes on Siri and you.”

Garen closed his eyes, pressing his face into his shoulder as he continued to cling. “I’ll be better, too,” he whispered.

“Are you certain about Hesperidium?” he had to ask. “You know this will mean for the Tsad Droten- and Mando’ad.”

Garen laughed harshly. “Trust me, I couldn’t forget if I tried. This was such a clusterkark of a mission, those bastards don't deserve the accurate intel I have on Coruscant's moons. I couldn't be happier about throwing their oversight in their faces.”

Ben cupped his old friend’s face, thumb stroking the harsh line of his whole cheekbone. The other had shattered upon impact in his crash landing and hadn’t healed clean.

“One might say revenge is not the Jetii way.”

Garen snorted, lightly headbutting him. “This time next week, I won’t be Jedi anymore. I certainly won’t be Jedi if Jango actually puts my intel into practice.”

“Semantics,” he pointed out, but Garen seemed to know he was teasing. He shook his head, hissing lightly when that pressed his healing cheekbone into Ben’s shoulder.

“Being a Jedi means something different from what it used to,” he murmured. “It’s so tied to the Republic, and the Republic’s been chipping away at its own borders these past few years.”

That Garen was saying these things without even an inkling of half the osik had gone down after Sy had come to them…

“Yan’buir will be pleased that someone was listening when he was lecturing about the failures of the Tsad Droten.”

Garen rolled his eyes. “I didn’t even see him last time he was on Coruscant. Wasn’t he busy kriffing Master Kit’s brains out?”

Ben lightly stroked the Garen’s knobby head, savouring the rough texture of his stubble. “The 2 of you can bitch about the Tsad Droten together and yell at ad’e to get off the grass.”

Garen muffled his snickers against his shoulder. Then he exhaled, the last of his tension easing out from his taut spine.

“Comm Jango, would you? He ought to get those plans from me.”

Ben gently tipped Garen’s face up to look him in the eye. Garen raised an eyebrow at him - but it was the eyebrow he’d half-burnt off in the explosion, and it probably didn’t have the impact he wanted. Ben still smiled, kissing his forehead. Garen wrinkled his nose, his cheeks colouring.

“Sure, let me get us set up.”

Garen made a half-hearted attempt to sit up, but Ben refused to let him go far, keeping the man tucked against his side as his comm rang, and Jango’s blue-tinted figure flickered into being.

“Ad’ika,” he said in greeting, “jett’ika.”

Garen stared flatly. “You know I've been Knighted. I'd be insulted by that title if this one weren’t still getting called ad’ika by literal children."

“It’s a term of affection,” Ben protested through his grin.

Garen rolled his eyes. “Yeah, one you got the Temple and half the Coruscant underbelly calling you, too.”

“He’s shameless,” Jango teased, only to get jostled as Myles literally slammed into him.

“Who’s shameless? Me?” he asked, grinning broadly as he draped himself over Jango's back. “Su cuy, ad’ika, jett’ika!” This time, Garen sent Ben a pointed look.

“Garen has news for you, ori’vod,” he said instead of acknowledging that, lightly scratching the stubble at Garen's nape.

Jango raised his eyebrows. “Oh?”

“This is a contingency plan in the event the Republic decides to be even more kriffed up than they’ve been of late,” Garen declared.

“I’m listening.”

“Coruscant has 4 moons: Centax-1 to 3, and Hesperidium,” Garen explained. “Centax-1 to 3 have been developed as remote military bases, but Hesperidium is the only one that’s been left alone. It has rings, you see, which spit debris into its atmo every revolution. They give off too much static for a reliable comm signal, and, more importantly, for any ship within its orbit to be detected by radar…”

It was only early evening by the time he returned to Antilles-Organa’s flat (his sofa), but Ben was so relieved to be able to just…not, for awhile, even as his heart ached for his friend. Garen’s sloped shoulders and slow, shuffling amble towards the Temple had hardly inspired confidence, but he was still alive. Ben could take heart in that.

The dha’kad’au nudged him mentally, impatient and insistent.

“We’ve barely even been allowed permission into the Temple,” he retorted, pulling it out of its holder in the small of his back and setting it on his chest. “I’m certainly not going to prematurely ask for access for Tarre Viszla’s holocron and blow my cover.” He made a face. “I’m not even sure we could make it that deep into the basement if they don’t do something about the nexus.”

Solaris let out a low, mournful croon from where it was perched on Antilles-Organa’s coffee table. The dha’kad’au pressed the memory of rot and decay towards him and he choked, fighting back a surge of bile. Solaris sent him a flicker of its Light and he sagged back against the sofa, worn. The dha’kad’au was sulking again, but there was an apologetic slant to its sulk this time.

Ben huffed at it. “I know you didn’t mean it,” he replied, “but I would appreciate it if you could tamp down your hostility some.”

The dha’kad’au pressed up against his mind, its touch warm, before subsiding. Ben smiled down at it, amused despite himself. Solaris was watching them, gears cycling.

I’ve never met another kyber like you.

Ben patted the dha’kad’au before it could get up in arms again. “There isn’t another kyber quite like it, thank Manda.”

The dha’kad’au grumbled beneath his hand but it didn’t otherwise respond, thankfully.

“Is a cleansing all it needs, you think?” he asked. “The jetii nexus, that is.”

It’s hard to tell with that much Dark still clinging to it, Solaris replied, and we weren’t even able to reach the source. Something very Dark had been wrought over it, something old and rotting. The original working is likely gone now; only the ghosts linger. But that they do so with this much strength…

“I can’t believe they haven’t cleansed the nexus in an age,” he muttered. “Think of the ad’e, if nothing else.” He shook his head, waving one hand. “Don’t mind me, I’m just griping.”

The dha’kad’au nudged his mind again, still emanating warmth - but it was with a more familiar warmth, one that reminded him of ‘yaim.

“Oh,” he mumbled. “It would be a relief to speak with them. What time is it? Is it too late to-?”

The dha’kad’au nudged him harder, tinged with impatience.

Solaris chittered at him, curious. I like how your mind feels when you speak with your family, it said. The dha’kad’au does, too.

Ben looked down at it. “You could have just said that, you know.”

The dha’kad’au huffed, turning up its metaphorical nose at him. Ben just laughed, fiddling with his comm for Sy’s kind smile to materialise in front of them.

“Su cuy, Ben’ika,” he began in greeting. “I hope I got that right.”

Ben felt his own mouth automatically turn up at the corners. “You said that perfectly, Sy, su cuy. Where are cuun ikaad’e? How have they been? How have you been?”

“They’ve been missing you something terrible,” Sy replied, his eyes going soft. “They’ll forget that you’re away, and then remember and upset themselves, and then forget again, and the process keeps repeating.”

Ben winced. “That sounds- yeah.”

“We’ve been having plenty of naps,” Sy continued. “You may have been right about how calming the children are; my visions have not seemed so severe while they’re lying on me. I do my meditation like that now, although Yan claims I’m always asleep when he comes to visit.”

“How is Komari ba’vodu?” he asked.

“Recovering very well,” Sy replied, “almost too well. She irritated poor Khiyosh into resorting to sedation to keeping her in the medbay. Yan’s assigned her to keep Ahsoka and Bo-Katan out of trouble while Dilys and Coline are away, or perhaps it’s the other way round."

“That sounds about right,” Ben said dryly, only for his words to be punctuated by a howl of excitement.

“Boooiiiii!” Cody shrieked, hurling himself at the holo-projector - he would have fallen flat on his face (again) if Sy hadn’t swooped in and caught him in time. Rex was right on his heels because of course he was, and Sy quickly nabbed the blond before he could get any other bright ideas.

“Ikaad’e,” Ben breathed, “ner ikaad’e.”

Cody was waving at him in excitement, babbling out a steady stream of sounds. Rex interjected with his own loud noises, cheering his vod on. Behind them, with a cautious arm wrapped around each of them, Sy was nodding along gravely.

“What is it?” Ben asked.

Cody’s babbling took on a questioning tone, and Rex looked hurt.

“Nayc, ner kar’ta, I can’t feel you through the holo the same way I would if I were there in-person,” he quickly said.

“Ben’ika can hear you, Kot’ika, Rex’ika,” Sy reassured. “I am very certain he loves you both as much as I do.”

“At least,” Ben teased, “if not more.”

Sy huffed at him, while Cody and Rex looked a bit calmer. “Bo-Katan brought her nibling to meet the ikaad'e and they all got along splendidly. I understand Ahsoka is also coming over tomorrow to referee a game of Hide and Hunt.”

Ben laughed. “Take lots of holos, alright? And I’m expecting ner ikaad’e to win, or, barring that, take the others down with them.”

Sy made a pained face while Cody babbled enthusiastically, Rex clapping his hands in delight. “Please don’t give them even more ideas, Ben’ika. At least, not until you’re back here to corral them, too.”

He grinned, impish. “They would have come up with those ideas on their own eventually.”

Cody’s babbling grew in volume, and Rex clapped again. Sy sighed, but that was a smile he was hiding in Cody’s hair. Rex craned his neck to smack a kiss to the bottom of the man’s jaw. Ben stared, his heart swelling.

Just for a little while, he told himself. Just until Reeft's murderers were brought to justice and the Younglings could be reunited.

Solaris let out a chirp of warning, and Ben looked up. The front door chimed before it slid open, revealing an exhausted-looking Antilles-Organa.

“You look terrible,” Ben said flatly. “Sit down before you fall over.”

“If I did,” Antilles-Organa retorted, “it would be on my sofa- no, wait, it's already occupied.”

He snorted. “If you can still sass me, you’ll survive.”

Antilles-Organa collapsed onto the armchair beside them with a loud groan. “This is entirely your fault, you know,” he continued. “That datachip you brought - all those stories you’ve told me of the Collective - we’re tearing through all our old records as quietly as possible to figure out how we missed all of this. We have to work out how we were made to miss all this.”

“You seem busy.”

Ben blinked, startled to realise he’d left the comm open. Sy was still smiling kindly while their ad’e studied Antilles-Organa with open curiosity.

“Oh, by the Killik,” the man stammered, colour rising to his cheeks, “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t be interrupting time with your family-.”

“This is literally your home, Antilles-Organa,” Ben said firmly.

Sy’s eyes were sparkling as he watched; the man clearly remembered what he’d said about competence kinks.

“We can comm you back another time,” Sy offered, but Cody began to cry out in protest, Rex right alongside him.

Sy sighed, gently bouncing them. “Oh, ikaad'e, your buir is busy,” he coaxed. “We can comm him back later, I promise.”

Ben stared at their faces, trying to breathe past the lump in his throat.

“No,” Antilles-Organa was saying, “I don’t want to interrupt your family time.”

Cody and Rex’s cries only grew louder and more insistent. Ben glanced at Antilles-Organa, startled to recognise the expression on his face. Solaris let out a low whistle.

“Wait a minute, Antilles-Organa.”

The man sent him a startled look. “Hold this for me,” Ben said, thrusting his comm at him.

“Uh-.”

Sy looked mildly surprised, while Cody and Rex began to titter at each other, their curiosity taking the place of their previous upset. Ben grinned as he replaced the dha’kad’au in its holder and sat up, patting the seat beside him on the sofa.

“If we’re going to be roommates for the foreseeable future, Antilles-Organa,” he said, “the least I can do is introduce you to ner aliit.”

Antilles-Organa looked startled, blinking at him. “Are you- are you sure?” he asked, clearing his throat. “I mean, I’d hate to intrude on your family time.”

Ben smiled, patting the seat beside him again. “Come on, Antilles-Organa.”

The man shyly sat beside him, holding out his comm back. “I think that if you’re going to introduce me to your family, you could call me Bail.”

Sy sent him a pointed look, mouth twitching. Ben rolled his eyes at the ridiculous man. Rex was cooing at Bail, head tilted curiously while Cody fussed.

“Pick up Solaris for me, would you? It wanted to meet ner aliit, too.”

Solaris let out a pleased whistle, jiggling a little on the spot. Bail looked like he couldn’t help smiling as he carefully picked up the small droid and set it on the sofa between them.

“It likes pats,” Ben added playfully.

Solaris chided him with a low boop, but leant into Bail’s hand when the man tentatively patted it.

“Bail, this is Sy, and ner ikaad’e, Cody and Rex. Cody’s the one with the scar, and Rex is the blond.”

“Bui!” Rex exclaimed, slapping the side of Sy’s face with his hand.

Ben laughed. “Yes, that’s your buir, Rex’ika.” The look on Sy’s face was one of abject tenderness.

Watching Sy and the ikaad’e interact with someone new was…interesting. Bail was attentive to Cody and Rex, never once questioning Sy’s role as their translator. He did seem a little shy when speaking directly to Sy, though.

Eventually, Rex interrupted Cody’s ‘conversation’, butting Sy with his head while clutching his belly.

“Oh!” Sy exclaimed, rubbing his smarting chin. “I hadn’t realised the time.”

Bail smiled, warm and kind. “That’s one way to make your feelings known.”

Ben chuckled. “Our Highness is usually more straightforward with showing his feelings. Kot’ika’s the polite one.”

Cody snickered at Rex, who whined, plaintive. Sy laughed, bouncing them both in his arms.

“I’ll have to beg off the rest of this conversation to get ner ikaad’e fed.” His eyes went round and doleful. “Come back to us, Ben’ika. Um, k’oyaci.”

“K’oyacyi,” Ben corrected, blinking back sudden tears. “And- vor’e, Sy. I won’t stop trying.”

Sy sent him one last warm smile, their ikaad’e squalling in his arms, and then the holo cut out. Ben inhaled sharply before he could stop himself.

“You have a beautiful family,” Bail told him gently, Solaris’s series of beeps echoing his sentiment.

Ben bit back a sob. “I do,” he rasped, clenching his hands on top of his thighs.

“I am grateful for your playing postal service, but the reason why you’ve stayed on Coruscant, so far from them - it’s that important?”

He closed his eyes, but the image of Reeft’s broken body didn’t disappear. “They are not my only aliit,” he replied softly. “Ner ikaad’e are safe, Sy will watch over them. Not all ner aliit are so fortunate.”

“Alit,” Bail repeated, “that’s- family? Forgive my accent,” he added, smiling self-deprecatingly.

“Aliit,” he corrected, “but you were close. There is nothing more important to Mando’ad than val aliit.”

“I could almost forget you were Mandalorian,” Bail mused, “especially with how you’re dressed.”

One corner of his mouth twitched. “I suppose these don’t help,” he agreed, plucking at the beige Mirialan tunics he was still wearing. “Do I not match your expectations of Mando’ad, Senator?”

“You don’t,” Bail replied, and Ben could respect him for his honesty. “I think I bought into more stereotypes of Mandalorians than I realised, and I haven’t even seen you in your armour yet.”

Ben batted in his eyelashes. “Well, well, Senator, what else would you like to see me in?"

“No!” Bail yelped, cheeks reddening under his tan skin. “That wasn’t what I meant at all!” The man surged up from the sofa in a flustered array of robes, busying himself at the kitchen counter, keeping his back turned.

Solaris let out a low, judgemental beep.

“Too much?” he asked.

You were being mean.

Ben sighed, picking up Solaris to cradle it in the corner of his elbow. “I suppose.”

Bail was still fussing at the kitchen counter, a half-drunk cup of water at his elbow. Ben set Solaris down between them as a peace offering.

“Ni ceta, Bail,” he offered. “I only meant to tease, not offend.” He didn’t clarify the older man’s misunderstanding about his relationship with Sy.

“Sometimes the line between them is very close.”

“I am grateful for both your hospitality and your open-mindedness,” Ben continued, “but I know I kind of invited myself to stay. Despite that, I have no intention of making you uncomfortable in your own home.”

“You’re not- that’s not what I intended at all.” Bail turned to look at him then, his dark eyes limpid in the dim light. “I didn’t realise how alone I’ve become, how lonely I was until I came home to see you and Solaris here every night.” He sent the Shard a faint, watery smile, and obligingly began to pet it.

“You’re very brave to admit that,” Ben said.

“It doesn’t help that my last friend on the Senate and my wife are together while I’m here,” Bail added, self-deprecating.

Ben blinked.

Bail flushed. “Uh- would it be too late for you to pretend you didn’t hear that?”

He chuckled, Solaris letting out a low, sweet whistle. “What’s spoken in these walls stays in these walls, ori’haat.”

“Can I- could I ask about your children? Your boys?”

Ben smiled. He had noticed how Bail had softened every time Syndulla’s children had run in and out of the Twi'lek's holo, how mindful he’d been of both Cody and Rex.

“They’re technically twins, but Cody acts like the elder all the time, and Sy let Rex get away with everything,” he complained, as if he didn’t also fold like wet flimsi when Rex’s lip wavered.

Bail chucked. “I was just about to ask - I wasn’t sure, because Rex’s blond hair threw me off. Cody’s scar, though-.”

“Ah, yes,” Ben said gravely. “Cuun Kot’ika was unfortunately bested by his most fearsome foe-.”

Bail gasped.

“His feet.”

Bail wheezed out his exhale, laughing weakly through his relief. “I thought-.” He shook his head. “It doesn’t matter what I thought, I was just worried- it’s such a bad scar.”

“Yes, it is,” he sighed. “You have no children, though? You seem very fond of them.”

The look in Bail’s eyes softened. “We both are,” he murmured. “Breha often volunteers at the Royal Alderaanian Library, reading to children.”

“Are plans in the works for your own?”

Bail flushed. “Um, well.”

Ben gently kicked at his foot. “What’s said in these walls stays in these walls, remember?”

The older man blushed at the reminder. Soft, Ben remembered thinking, so very soft.

“Because of health reasons,” Bail began hesitantly, “Breha and I can’t naturally have children.”

“Is that a thing? I mean, is it necessary for your Queen to bear the children, for the line of succession?”

“Well, no,” Bail admitted.

Ben shrugged. “Then adopt one or 5 ad’e,” he said.

Bail looked reluctantly amused by him. “It’s that easy for you, huh.”

“Sy and I are both Humanoid males,” he said, laughing aloud. “We hardly came by cuun ikaad’e naturally!"

Bail appeared startled. “You- they’re adopted?”

Ben laughed again. “Gar taldin ni jaonyc; gar sa buir, ori’wadaas’la - aliit is aliit, blood-related or otherwise. Adoption through gai bal manda is just as common as birthing ad’e.” He offered the older man a lopsided smile. “I was Adopted myself and have never known my blood family.”

“Oh! And that- that’s never affected your relationship with your family?” Bail asked. “If you don’t mind my asking, that is.”

“I have never found my circumstances wanting,” he replied truthfully. “Ner buir’e - my parents,” he clarified, “they’re the people who chose me and loved me and gave me every opportunity I could ever ask for. Does that sound any different from your parents?”

“No,” Bail said slowly, “it doesn’t.” Ben could practically see the gears turning in the older man’s head.

“Come on,” he beckoned, “we can continue this conversation over something quick for latemeal. I don’t think either of us have any energy to manage much more.”

“I’ll have you know that I’m a decent cook,” Bail grumbled, picking up Solaris without prompting.

“I’ll see it when I believe it,” Ben retorted, digging through the crisper and coming up with a ball of half-wilted gysahl greens.

“You did not just mock my non-existent cooking,” Bail threatened.

He grinned, cocking out his hip. “Why? What are you gonna do about it?” He was gratified to see that the older man didn’t seem to take his teasing as anything more than gentle ribbing.

“That’s it,” Bail declared, herding him out of the kitchen, “I’ll make you eat your words. Solaris, you can help.”

“I’d rather eat your food - oh, wait, there isn’t any food.”

“I’ll show you,” Bail growled. Solaris let out an excited whistle, the traitor.

And thus the Great Coruscant Cook-Off began.

Unfortunately, he had to give the first round to Bail; Ben only woke up in time to throw some bread slices in the toaster for breakfast, to which Bail looked less than impressed.

“Your culinary skills astound me.”

Ben rolled his eyes. “Eat your sub-par toast or you’ll be late.”

After Bail had left for the Senate, Ben made his way to the Lower Levels to change into his beskar’gam and pick up his anooba escort for his morning meeting. The pack immediately perked up at his arrival, yipping out a greeting, tails whipping around wildly.

“You Mereel’s ad’ika?”

He looked up from where he’d been scratching an anooba’s haunches. Hardeen didn’t look like much, dressed as he was like a smuggler, and certainly not like a beroya renowned as the Marksman of Concord Down; he wasn’t even wearing any beskar’gam.

“Elek. Hardeen?”

The man tilted his head. “Can you leave the mutts?”

One anooba started to growl, baring slavering, inch-long fangs.

Ben smiled blandly under his buy’ce. “They’re really very well-behaved.”

Hardeen snorted. “At least until someone crosses you, I take it. Fine, hurry up.”

Ben pushed upright, playfully tugging at the snarling anooba’s ear as he followed Hardeen down a series of alleyways and into yet another grungy cantina.

Only one anooba managed to squeeze into their booth, practically crawling into his lap when the privacy screen snapped up. Thankfully, Ben could still reach out to the rest of the pack through Manda, soothing them as they whined at the lack of contact between him and their packmate.

Hardeen looked unimpressed. “What’s a dead jetii to Mereel?”

“The jetii was my contact,” he replied blandly.

“What’s ad be’Mand’alor doing with a jetii contact?” Hardeen demanded.

“Jetiise aren’t always unreasonable. I spent too long cultivating him for some shabuir to wipe him - and my intel.”

Hardeen studied his visor for a long moment before he finally opened his mouth.

“Anonymous contract came in for a team to neutralise a pad-pushing jetii. Read suspect, too much firepower for one little Dressellian, but it was easy credits, y’know?”

Ben nodded, focusing on keeping his breathing even.

“I sniped ‘em with a tranq; Embo and Derrown were meant to secure 'em, but Dressellians musta been able to metabolise it faster ‘cause he hardly stayed down the first time, and he took Derrown out with his kad’au like it was nothing. Took 5 more shots before he-.”

“Those tranqs,” Ben interrupted, fists clenched under the table, “did you synthesise them on your own?”

Hardeen shook his head. “We were given ‘em, same as the Force shackles.”

“Force shackles!” he exclaimed. “You’re sure they weren’t Magnacuffs? Not even modified ones?”

Hardeen scoffed. “They were Force shackles, lined with beskar.” Ben let out a slow, soundless exhale, careful not to show how much his blood was boiling. “I’d never forget them binders; was a custom job if I ever saw one.”

“Could you sketch them out?”

Hardeen inclined his head. “I can try.”

He leant back, forcing his fingers to relax when the anooba nosed at his hand. “So the jetii was tranqed and bound - then what.”

“Embo and I transported ‘em to the Lower Levels.” Hardeen paused. “You know Eval?”

Ben frowned. “Isn’t he supposed to be rotting in maximum security somewhere?”

Hardeen snorted. “I see you know his pleasant reputation.” He shook his head. “Twazzi always were a smart one; she didn’t want nothing to do with this osik.”

Ben’s eyebrows had nearly hit his hairline. “You, Embo, Derrown, Eval, and now Twazzi? And you expect me to believe that this mysterious client had enough funds to employ all of you?”

“Only ord’inii would take a job without guarantee, and the only anonymous client is a dead client, and sometimes not even then,” Hardeen retorted. “Besides, Twazzi didn’t take the job, said the client gave ‘er the creeps.” Hardeen shook his head again. “Shoulda listened to ‘er. Shoulda known anything involving Eval was karked.”

“What does Eval have to do with the Lower Levels?”

“That utreekov built what he called a Box. That was where Embo and I were ordered to take the jetii.” Hardeen shuddered. “Didn’t need Manda to know I didn’t wanna set foot in that haran.”

“Can you take me to this- Box?”

Hardeen shook his head yet again. “Eval moved it after we dropped the jetii off."

Ben bit his tongue at the bitter disappointment.

“Embo didn’t wanna talk to you, but I think he could be persuaded, if I put in a word.”

Ben swallowed back the rusty flavour in his mouth. “What’s it gonna cost me?”

Hardeen didn’t answer for a long moment. “You only hear stories this far into the Core, of what Mereel and Fett are doing on the Outer Rim.”

“Why did you stay?” Ben asked.

Hardeen wouldn’t meet his eyes. “Thought I had to prove myself, earn my way back.”

“Rhea Ly still remembers you,” he offered.

Hardeen huffed. “That old nerf herder still kicking?”

“Kicking hard,” Ben replied, idly rubbing his jaw in memory; nerf herders would be proud to count Ly as one of their number.

Hardeen chuckled, looking more relaxed than he had in this entire time. “Good to know some things never change. But- the JPs. Mereel folded them in?”

“They swear to the same Resol’nare and answer if he calls, but they have an understanding that buir won’t do it unless it’s truly serious. Think it’s only happened a couple times since.” One of those times had been Melida/Daan. Ben shrugged. “It’s worked, so far.”

“Not sure I even remember what either of ‘em look like, Concord Dawn or Manda’yaim,” Hardeen hedged.

Ben tilted his buy’ce. “…do you want to find out?”

Hardeen fell silent. Ben let him mull it over, turning his attention back to the anooba before it started whining. Truly, the Temple Guard had spoilt them all something rotten. He could feel the rest of the pack mentally pawing at his mind, demanding.

Ben was scratching beneath its chin when Hardeen spoke again.

“The name of the client…”

He looked up when Hardeen leant across the table, inclining his buy'ce to listen to the man’s whisper of an answer.

Hardeen snorted at his non-reaction. “You don’t seem surprised.”

Ben leant back, tapping his finger on the table. “I had my suspicions,” he admitted, “but I still have to build a beskar-clad case in public against the shabuir.”

Hardeen let out a low whistle. “You really aren’t karking around. I can’t tell if you’re being ballsy or naïve.”

“No one says I couldn’t be both,” he replied, shrugging.

Hardeen nodded slowly. “I think,” he began, “I’d like to go home.”

“You still have your beskar’gam?”

“What’s it to you?” Hardeen demanded, bristling defensively.

“When I next contact you,” Ben explained, “it’ll be to get off this ka’ra-forsaken planet. And when I do, you'd best come in full beskar’gam, and this conversation never happened.”

Hardeen extended his arm. Ben gripped his wrist, hard, and felt the pressure of the older man’s grip close around his own wrist.

“What conversation? Embo’ll find you in a couple of days.”

Hardeen stood, and the privacy filter around them flickered off. The rest of the pack immediately surged to their feet, ears and tails pricked.

“How will I find him?”

“Don’t worry,” Hardeen replied, wading through the anoobas, “keep hanging around this lot, and he’ll find you.”

“That wasn’t cryptic at all,” Ben muttered at an anooba. It cocked its head, making an inquisitive sound. He snorted, booping its nose to send it rearing back into its packmates. He chuckled, cossetting its ears in apology. “Come on, let’s get out of here.”

He received an invitation from Narec to visit the Temple greenhouses later the same week. He’d dropped by the guardhouse on the way in to let them know he’d made contact with the bounty hunters and was expecting news within the next few weeks. Solaris was eager to be out and about again, jauntily perched on his shoulder once more. A centuries-old being was too dignified to sulk, per se, but it had definitely been more subdued than usual these last few days, when he’d left it behind while meeting with Hardeen.

Ben had appeared on Coruscanta thrice now: first as that unknown wielder of the dha’kad’au, then Narec’s consultant; then Mando’ad. He’d been careful not to let any of the aspects overlap to avoid being found out, which was why he was carting around the dha'kad'au in a hidden pocket, and it wasn’t like Hardeen would be sharing his name with a jetii any time soon. It would be too much of a coincidence to have both the consultant, Adika, and the Mando’ad ad’ika run around Coruscanta with identical BD droids on their shoulders.

Solaris was still chittering out its grumbles, shifting from foot-to-foot.

How am I supposed to look after you if you leave me behind?

Ben frowned. He certainly didn’t need to be looked after.

Your parent was quite insistent.

Ben sighed.

“Which one of them?” he muttered. Having 3 buir’e was a boon most of the time - when they weren’t being menaces, that was.

Which time? Solaris replied, radiating amusement.

Ben frowned. When exactly had Jaster and Khal-?

Solaris impressed upon him its memory of Yan, dark eyes sparkling with mirth as he passed on Jaster’s threats, and then another time, when he passed on Khal’s threats. Ben had no idea how they had managed to learn that much about Shard anatomy.

Shard do not have parents the way Humans do, but we understand the worry one might feel for their young leaving their care. Even if what passes as young for us is quite different from you.

Ben huffed out a laugh, patting its chassis. Solaris butted into his hand. Well?

“Look, I get that you mean well-.”

This is also the most exciting thing that has happened to me in over 500 years.

Ben blinked. “Well, if you put it that way…”

This droid body is but a shell. I am Shard.

“But you’ve spent so much time-.”

I would not expose myself permanently, just when you are in your guise as a bounty hunter. Solaris paused, and then added, Or perhaps it would be more correct to say, when you are your self.

Ben smiled at it. He was, at the core of him, Mando’ad.

“If you don’t min-.”

The dha’kad’au very snidely informed them both that it minded.

You can keep your hidden pocket, Solaris said primly. I know how to fashion wire jewellery-.

Ben did not want to know how or why Solaris knew that, but he supposed 600 years gave one plenty of time to learn all sorts of things. Nevertheless, he pointedly requested that the 2 keep their discussion out of his mind, gedet’ye, and simply tell him its conclusion.

Just in time, too, as Narec came bumbling round the corner, apologies falling out of his mouth.

“It was barely a wait at all, Narec,” Ben interrupted firmly. “I’m very excited to see the greenhouses.”

“Oh!” Narec exclaimed. “Well, I’m very excited to show them to you. And- perhaps we might round out the day with a tour of the Room of a Thousand Fountains?”

Ben offered him a faint smile. “I’ve heard of it, but I can’t imagine what a room like that might look like. Are there really a thousand fountains in it?”

Narec kept up a steady stream of chatter as he led them on an unfamiliar route through the Temple. Ben had no reference for the greenhouses, having never been there during his time as an Initiate or a Padawan. Maybe if he had been more accepting about his original posting to the Agricorps, he might have made it there before. He had laughed at the irony while bathed in the morning sun on Melidaan, he and Nield both, up to their wrists in soil.

“Do you have greenhouses on your planet?” Narec asked.

“Not like these,” he replied, pausing to admire the enormous transparisteel houses. His own tiny greenhouse could fit inside one of these a half-dozen times over, and he didn’t have the space or time to devote to growing such large plants. He had to smile at the scent of freshly-turned dirt, and the air buzzed with the energy of green growing things.

Narec chuckled warmly. “You look happy to be here.”

“Who wouldn’t be?” he exclaimed, laughing when a tree shivered and showered them both with a myriad of tiny yellow leaves. Solaris let out a chitter of dismay.

It is going to take forever to get the leaves out of my joints.

Ben calmed it with a touch. “I’ll help, ori- I mean, I promise. Solaris was a little upset at the impromptu leaf shower,” he told Narec.

“Your diagnostic droid doesn’t join you in the fields?” the man asked.

He laughed again. “Oh, no, Solaris isn’t that kind of diagnostic droid.”

The Shard sent him an image of its caves on Orax, bone-dry with barely a whisper of wind. Not a speck of dirt, it told him pointedly.

And yet it wanted to follow him down to the Lower Levels of Coruscanta.

Solaris waffled, only for the dha’kad’au to jeer at it, setting them off again. Ben firmly ejected them both from his mind and returned his attention to Narec.

“Solaris is powered by a kyber crystal,” he explained. “Not that other kybers wouldn’t be more than happy to be covered in dirt - it's just that this one isn’t.”

Narec waved over a Kel Dor, introducing her as Sha Koon.

“Knight Koon often works with the Agricorps - the agricultural arm of the Jedi - and is far more knowledgeable about the details of the greenhouses than me,” he admitted.

Her face seemed to crinkle into a smile behind her breath mask. “What mischief has your Padawan gotten you into this time, Narec?”

“This is a mischief of my own making,” Narec replied, offering her a rueful half-smile. “May I introduce you to my latest Archive consultant, Adika, and his helper droid, Solaris? Adika is a- a farmer.” He glanced at Ben as if he were waiting for him to protest.

“A farmer!” Koon sounded enthused, but also a little perplexed.

“I am- how do you call it- Force-sensitive?” Ben asked. “But first and foremost, I am a farmer.”

Koon laughed brightly. “Well, you’re in good company. Unfortunately, most of our Agricorps are based outside of Coruscant. What crops do you grow?”

“Grains, primarily,” Ben replied promptly, and began to launch into a discussion of his farming experience on both Melidaan and Manda’yaim, never once clarifying that he was speaking of 2 planets instead of one. If Koon noticed any discrepancies, she didn’t mention it, and she had some interesting suggestions about setting up a diverse ecosystem for sustainable harvesting, and he gave her some feedback on no-till farming, which they practised primarily on Melidaan.

He didn’t even notice how much time had passed until Narec mentioned that it was nearing dusk, and they should move on if they wanted to catch sunset at the Room of a Thousand Fountains.

“Force, is that the time?” Koon exclaimed. “I hope I haven’t held you up.”

“I’ve enjoyed our conversation,” he said honestly, “but I’m not sure if Narec had other plans.”

The older man chuckled. “I’m just glad you enjoyed yourself, Adika. You came such a long way, and I’m sorry that you’ve been left hanging while the Council deliberates on a decision.”

Ben shrugged. “Councils lumber,” he said easily. “I’m still getting paid, and in the meantime, this is a more than welcome use of my time.”

Koon’s mental presence felt pleased and suffused with joy. “I am very glad to hear it, Adika. If you’re ever in the greenhouses again, please let me know. I’d love to speak with you more.”

“How do you feel about animal husbandry?” Ben asked slyly.

Koon laughed, bright and loud. “If I get into that, we’re going to be here all night!”

“I think,” Narec said, “that means you’re going to have to come back here again, Adika.”

He chuckled. “Maybe.”

Koon waved goodbye, disappearing between the large palm fronds.

“I didn’t mean for you to sit there all afternoon and listen to us talk about sprout growth,” he told Narec. “You should have stopped us.”

Narec smiled warmly. “Why would I do that when you were both so clearly enjoying yourselves?”

“I- if you had anything else planned?”

Narec shook his head, still smiling. “It was nothing that couldn’t have waited. Besides, the Council is making you wait for its decision.”

Ben rolled his eyes. “I don’t think that’s how it works, Narec.”

The man opened his mouth to reply, but once again, whatever he might have said was forever lost to time. Solaris straightened, whistling sharply, and Ben’s head snapped around, his skin prickling warningly at the disturbance. Beside him, Narec stiffened.

“What-?”

“-right there, Garen! Where do you think you’re going?”

Ben had never heard voices raised in such a manner in the Temple. It was pure coincidence to see Garen stalk across in front of them, his spine ratcheted so tightly that Ben’s teeth hurt just looking at him. At least Garen’s colour had improved in the week or so since they’d last seen each other.

There was a Humanoid woman prowling after him, her arm in a sling. She must have been his Teacher, the pilot Clee Rhara.

“Away, from you,” Garen snapped out, “in case you couldn’t tell. That intel came from you and if you’d just checked like I asked-!”

Rhara lashed out with her uninjured arm. The problem was, her uninjured hand was on her left, meaning the blow landed on Garen’s right- on the same side as his shattered cheekbone. The sound of his healing bones rebreaking threw Ben back to when Melidaan had still been Melida/Daan, and Young were dying in front of him.

“Garen!”

A young Mirialan dashed forward from- somewhere, Ben didn’t even know where, considering how these hallways had been empty mere moments ago. Blood dripped onto the sand-coloured tile, and Rhara’s face was frozen in an expression of horror.

“If you’ll excuse us, Master Rhara,” the Mirialan told the older woman tightly, “I need to bring Garen to the Halls of Healing.” She wasn’t very subtle with how she was angling to keep herself between Garen and Rhara. Whoever the Mirialan was, Ben was just glad she was firmly in Garen’s corner, especially while his own feet felt rooted to the ground.

“Oh, Force, Muln,” Narec rasped.

Ben glanced at him, startled. “You know him?”

“I know them all,” he fretted, gaze darting between Garen and the Mirialan’s diminishing figures and Rhara’s still-frozen form.

“Look, Narec, I can find my own way out of the Temple. We were never going to get through a thousand fountains today, so let’s take a raincheck on that. I think you’re needed elsewhere.”

Solaris agreed, loosing a series of clicks and whirrs.

“Adika, are you-?”

Ben shooed him. “Go on, Narec, I’ll be fine. If I get lost, I’ll just ask someone for directions.”

“Thank you, Adika. I’m so sorry your visit ended on such a note. I hope to see you again soon!” Narec babbled out, and then he was running towards Rhara, robes flapping behind him. Ben forced himself to unclench his fists and turn away.

Garen would be alright - Bant was still at the Halls, and they had all known this blow-out was coming - although none of them could have predicted Rhara’s violent reaction. Garen would be alright.

Garen had to be alright.

Lost in thought, Ben wasn’t really paying attention to where he was going, letting Manda lead his feet towards where he hoped the entrance was. Given how the day had gone, it was par for the course that he would round the corner and walk straight into someone.

“Oh, stars, excuse me,” he mumbled, steadying Solaris with one hand and catching the jetii with the other, feeling them fumble for balance at him. “I’m afraid I didn’t see you there.”

“That’s usually my line,” came the jetii’s reply.

Ben looked up - and froze.

“Uh- excuse me,” he said again, pulling back his hand as quickly as he dared, moving to continue on - only for the grip on his own arm to tighten.

“...Obi-Wan?”

Chapter Text

Ben used that grip on her arm to haul her into the nearest empty room. He had no doubt that she could twist out of it if she truly wanted to, but her own grip on him had gone lax with shock.

“Obi-Wan,” she whispered, her sightless eyes glittering with tears. “It’s really you, isn’t it?”

“Hi, Tahl,” he said quietly, gesturing the door shut behind them.

Her fingers dug into his arm, and then she was crying in earnest.

“I’m so glad,” she wept. “I’d hoped you were alive and well. And now you’re back. You’re back.”

“I’m not,” he replied softly. “I left the Order a long time ago, Tahl. You know that better than most.”

Despite the decade that had passed, Tahl looked largely unchanged, apart from the milkiness of her eyes. Her skin was the same deep shade so dark it gleamed - with health this time, rather than sweat and stress, and her waist-length locs were twisted with bright cords into a complicated colourful updo that looked like it defied gravity.

“You look a lot better,” he managed.

Tahl sent him a tremulous smile, dabbing the tears off her face. “That’s not hard, considering where we last met.” She hesitated, raising a shaking hand. “May I-?”

In Manda, she felt - hopeful, yearning, guilty, joyous, a cyclical loop of feelings that made him nauseous if he focused on it too long. But she didn’t feel dangerous or aggressive in any way.

“Uh, yeah,” he replied belatedly.

“Thank you,” Tahl breathed, and then brushed feather-light fingertips over his face, ‘seeing’ him. The helper droid on her shoulder whistled and let out a series of clicks, adding its own feedback.

Solari let out a sulky whistle of its own. I don’t understand it.

It’s speaking binary.

That’s not a language I ever thought to learn, it admitted, and Ben could feel its wonder and uncertainty. He couldn’t imagine that there were many such things that could trigger such emotions in a centuries-old being.

He closed his eyes when Tahl’s thumbs brushed over his cheeks, her fingertips dragging over his eyelids.

“You’ve grown so much,” she marvelled, her voice catching as she spoke. Her hands slowly slid off his face. “I’m honoured by your trust.”

He didn’t exactly trust her, but didn’t think this was the time to say that aloud. Her helper droid beeped, shuffling its feet in impatience.

“Oh, I apologise for my rudeness,” she chuckled, patting its chassis. Ben could feel how that one move endeared her to Solaris without a word. “Where are my manners? This is my dear friend and helper droid, Sae-Sen. Sae-Sen, may I have the pleasure of introducing you to Obi-Wan Kenobi-.”

It interrupted her words with a startled, high-pitched squeal, undeniably excited.

Tahl laughed, wiping at the corner of her eye. “Yes, that Obi-Wan,” she said, and Ben didn’t know why he was surprised to hear that she’d told her helper droid about him. “I had hoped, of course, but I’m so incredibly glad to have met you again.”

Manda rang with the truth of her words.

“The Force is so strong in you still,” she continued. “I’m so sorry that things went so horribly wrong. I don’t know if you ever heard from Cerasi and Nield, but Master Yoda and I tried to find you on Melidaan after I woke up. I wish we could have found you then and brought you back-.”

“I don’t.”

She started, her surprise evident. “Obi-Wan?” Tahl asked, her droid echoing her tone with a swooping whistle.

Ben scrubbed at his face in a rough imitation of her earlier gentleness. He barely even remembered that conversation he’d had with Ces and Nield, years and years and years ago now. “I don’t-.” He shook his head. “Don’t mind me, I’m afraid you didn’t catch me in the best mood. Let’s just say I am not and have not been a je- a Jedi in over a decade and call it a day, shall we?”

“I’m sorry I upset you,” Tahl began, but Ben was already shaking his head again.

“It wasn’t you.”

“My words certainly didn’t help,” she pointed out with a wryness he didn’t remember, or maybe plain forgot. “So, you aren’t here as a Jedi. Who or what are you here as, then?”

Tahl seemed open-minded about it, at least, and accusations weren’t leaping off her tongue.

“I was contacted through a mutual acquaintance by the Archivist Ky Narec to consult on the issue of the Force nexus after the rather public collapse of the Jedi on Coruscant, along with my diagnostic droid, Solaris,” he replied, belatedly gesturing at it. “Apparently, the matter was taken out of our hands when the Council got involved.”

Tahl blinked rapidly, and she seemed openly astonished. She’d let go of him, but she’d also taken to clutching at her helper-droid in replacement.

“Ky?” she repeated. “Ky Narec?”

“Do you know him?”

“Yes,” she replied, “he’s a crechemate of mine. Of- ours,” she added lamely, making a face.

Ben could fill in the blanks there, and firmly steered his mind away from that thought. Tahl offered him a faintly apologetic smile. “I don’t suppose he knows who you are?”

None of you do, he bit back. “I go by Adika now,” he said instead.

“Adika,” Tahl echoed, Manda roiling between them. The dha’kad’au was practically vibrating out of its crystalline mind against his spine. In contrast, Solaris was surprisingly stoic, observing more than anything else. Tahl’s expression softened, even if she wasn’t looking directly at him. She couldn’t, actually.

“Ky’s been keeping secrets,” she said lightly, almost teasing. “Has anyone else recognised you, yet- oh, your Younglings,” she cooed. “They've missed you so much through the years, Bant especially.” Her eyes glittered. “We never lost hope that you were still out there. It’s such a relief to know you’ve done so well for yourself.”

Ben cleared his throat, awkwardly lifting a hand to scratch the back of his head, only to be foiled by the coil of his braids. He’d known about his fellow Younglings, of course, but he hadn’t known the depths of Tahl’s care. No one had mentioned it to him - not that he'd asked, either.

“Thanks, I guess,” he mumbled. Solaris chittered at him, knowing.

"Would you like to meet them?" Tahl asked, digging in her pocket for her comm. "Bant and Garen are in-Temple-."

"Uh- maybe later," he interrupted, "after I've settled my consultation with the Archives. All work and no play makes for a speedier conclusion, y'know?"

She laughed. For a moment, Ben was thrown back years ago, to when both he and Jinn had something in common; when Tahl laughed, they both stopped everything to watch. She laughed the same way, with her entire being, her soul suffused in joy. Jinn had loved her, and committed an objectively terrible act because of it.

What would Ben do for love?

"Your crechemasters would be pleasantly surprised by your work ethic, Adika," she said, not even tripping over the foreign name. "You were always driven, when you put your mind to it. Thank you, then, for applying your mind to this matter."

“I didn’t do it for you,” he bit out. “I don’t owe the Jedi- anything.”

Tahl’s head jerked, but she had enough control of herself to hide what she really felt. “No, of course not,” she murmured. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to presume.”

Ben swallowed back his first 5 responses and the bitterness that still threatened to spill out after. Honestly, this Jetii habit of apologising willy-nilly made him want to lash out, and his temper was fluctuating uncomfortably. His nails bit into the meat of his palms, reminding him of how naked he was without his beskar’gam, in these ridiculous voluminous robes.

On his shoulder, Solaris shifted its weight from foot-to-foot, whistling lowly.

“It’s fine,” Ben said shortly, lying through his teeth. “I’m helping because I can, because these ad- these children deserve better.” His accent was slipping.

Tahl held out her hand. He stared at her bare palm.

“Adika, may I?”

At least she asked, and respected his choice of name.

“What is it?”

“Your hand,” she said, endlessly patient. “May I?”

Reluctantly, he put his hand on top of hers.

“Thank you,” she repeated gently, covering his hand with both of hers. “We have lost the right to your trust, and that is something I wholeheartedly regret. However, you have done so well for yourself, Adika. Your strength in the Force is one thing, but that you came when we needed help, regardless of your own personal feelings - I don’t know if anyone has said anything, but I would like to extend you my thanks on behalf of my brethren.”

“I haven’t done anything,” he muttered.

Tahl’s lips curled upwards. “You did enough to have the matter escalated to the Council,” she said. “I don’t know what the situation is with the nexus, but I do know that’s more than what any others have managed.”

“I’m sure that’s not the case,” he mumbled.

Tahl squeezed his hand with both of hers. “You’ve done what you could to the best of your ability.”

Ben frowned. “How do you know that? I could have, uh, fudged stuff up.”

Tahl laughed again. “You were just like this as a Padawan.”

A chill ran through him. He hadn’t been enough as a Padawan-.

“No,” Tahl said fiercely, her hands tightening on his. “The responsibility you were under was immense and you should never have been put into such a position. Mistakes were made, costly ones, but they weren’t yours.”

Ben didn’t know what to say to that so he said nothing. He looked away. “I should go. I’ve overstayed my welcome.”

“That could never be true,” Tahl declared, but she did release his hand and step backwards. “Just- give me a moment, would you? Just stay there and let me look at you.”

He glanced at her, uncertain of what to make of her request since she’d already ‘seen’ him once. Her sightless eyes never quite managed to meet his, roving silently over his form. Tahl had stood of a height with Jinn; she was still taller than Ben even now.

She smiled, her knuckles just brushing his shoulder.

“No matter what else, I’m very glad I had the opportunity to meet you again, Adika. That you are your own person, grown-.” Tahl’s smile widened, Manda ringing with her sincerity. “I am so very honoured and glad.”

Ben swallowed tightly. It took a moment before he could find the voice to speak. “…thanks, Tahl. I appreciate it, coming from you.”

Someone is coming. He stroked the side of Solaris’s chassis in thanks, even as he stepped back from Tahl.

“I should go.”

The door unlocked and slid open, revealing a pair of Temple Guards. Their featureless masks were boring into his face.

“Adika?” one of them said. “Narec said you would be leaving.”

“I was detained.”

All at once, Ben felt as if the Temple was closing in around him. These walls had seen so much life and so much death - how many other secrets were they hiding? He caught his breath and couldn’t find the right words to reply.

“Adika?” a Guards pressed, taking a step toward him. He couldn’t tell if it had been the same one who'd first spoken. Solaris clicked out a series of noises, mentally nudging him into action. Tahl’s poor droid tried to respond to it, sounding utterly confused.

“Our droids were intrigued by each other. If you’ll excuse me,” Ben muttered, sweeping past both Tahl and the Guard. He didn’t allow himself to stop till he was long past the Temple confines.

It was a matter of minutes to switch out his Mirialan tunics for his flightsuit and beskar’gam, and Solaris hid its chassis under his robes, baring its crystal, copper wire looped around its base.

“You’re stubborn,” he muttered at it.

Solaris only trilled at him, smug, while the dha’kad’au growled back at it.

“Keep it out of my head, please,” Ben said firmly, but he did slip the wire necklace over his head, tucking Solaris’s crystal beneath his flightsuit before putting on his buy’ce and sneaking out of Bail’s flat. What he really wanted to do was talk to someone, but he could be considerate of the time differences between Coruscanta and Manda’yaim.

The next best thing was being on the move, and even if he was technically still waiting on Embo, it didn’t hurt to keep tabs on the Bounty Hunters' Guild. Ben might not have the same ruthless edge Jango and Myles did, for running the ori’ramikadyc, but he could hold his own against hostiles well enough - and the anooba pack were more than willing to lend a paw.

In all honesty, he just wanted to curl up in a nest of fur-warm bodies and inquisitive snouts. The anoobas were happy to oblige, snuffling wetly at his gauntlets and buy’ce.

I’m glad I didn’t come down with the rest of my chassis, Solaris admitted. Getting leaves out of the joints is one thing, but fur is another.

The dha’kad’au rolled its metaphoric eyes, the bloody hypocrite, like Ben hadn’t brought an entire vial of weapons oil just for it.

Suddenly, one anooba went still, ear pricked and tail stiff. And then another and another, till the whole pack was on guard, hackles raised and fangs bared.

Ben frowned, pushing upright. “What is it?” he asked in Mando’a, his mind pressed against those of the pack.

Yet another anooba loped out of the Lower Level gloom, this one with pale-grey, almost white fur, and bright yellow eyes. It let out a huff of greeting, long tail sweeping jauntily behind him.

“Hello there,” Ben said. There was nothing aggressive about its body language, the furry end of its tail aloft like a flag. It trotted close enough to cautiously touch noses with one of the pack, only for it to leap back when the pack-anooba growled.

“Hey!” he snapped, grabbing onto another’s mane. “It’s not doing anything to you.”

The anooba he’d grabbed whined, but Ben held on. The new anooba whimpered, tail still wagging, before it ducked low with a yip. Now, that was behaviour he recognised in just about any canine mammal. Still…

“Hey,” Ben said in warning, gently tugging on the mane of the anooba he was still holding onto. “It just wants to play, so play fair.”

The one under his hands whined, pawing at the ground, but Ben refused to let go. “All of you,” he said firmly.

One huffed, its ears twitching, and then another and another till the tolerant mood travelled throughout the entire pack. The new anooba yipped again, its tail wagging twice as fast as it ducked close. One of the pack-anoobas lunged forward to snap at its nose, but it was purposefully slow, practically broadcasting its intentions, and then another anooba barked out a laugh. As if that were a sign, yet another anooba dived into the fray, and they all began to play in earnest.

Ben couldn’t help but smile at the sight, finally releasing the one’s mane so it could leap over its packmates. Caught up with the anoobas, he nearly missed the shifting shadow of a wide-brimmed hat.

He kept one hand behind him, the dha’kad’au just straining at the bit to be drawn, but for now, caution stayed his hand.

The shifting shadow became turned into a hulking, 2-metre alien with a stern face.

A Kyuzo, both Solaris and the dha’kad’au told him at the same time.

The Kyuzo croaked out a sound in an unfamiliar language that sounded like “Mando…”

“Embo, I take it?” Ben asked, speaking in Basic. “I was wondering what Hardeen meant about 'hanging around' with this lot, but I suppose it’s self-explanatory,” he said, nodding at where the new anooba had been piled on by the rest of the pack, only for it to wriggle its way free with a triumphant howl.

Embo said something else, still in that unfamiliar language.

He’s speaking Kyuzo, both Solaris and the dha’kad’au told him at the same time - again.

Elek, Ben had guessed as much, but the real question was - did either of them understand it?

The dha’kad’au effectively turned up its nose at him.

Embo wants to know if the anoobas are for sale, Solaris said.

“The anoobas aren’t mine,” he replied. “They’re jetii-trained.”

Embo stilled, and then fired out a series of questions. Thankfully, Solaris managed to keep up its stream of translations.

“I have no idea why they were trained, but they certainly aren’t spies. They’re simply animals making their way through life, much like your own companion. I’m afraid I don’t speak Kyuzo, but I have a- a translation-bot feeding me translations.”

If the anoobas are Jedi-trained, why do they listen to you?

Ben looked up into the Kyuzo’s face. “Hardeen told you what answers I’m looking for?” Embo wordlessly nodded. “Then you know - Jetii don’t get involved in much these days, but they will for one of their own.”

I had heard of an armoured being running around with a pack of anoobas in the Lower Levels; I wanted to know who they were. This is the first time I’ve been able to meet them. Marrok could use more 4-legged company.

“Marrok is…your anooba?”

Embo nodded again.

“Let me get this straight - you want to set up…play-dates? For your anooba?”

Maybe Marrok heard its name, or maybe it was just as in tune with its owner as the pack was with him. Its paler head perked up from where it had been playing, letting out a questioning bark. Embo waved it off and it barked again, diving back into play.

Marrok is very well-behaved, Solaris translated, adding that Embo sounded proud of his companion.

One of the pack-anoobas milling around nosed behind his knee, throwing him off-balance. Ben hissed, grabbing at its shoulder for balance.

“Honestly, you,” he groused, only for it to bare its wide grin, tongue lolling.

“This pack isn’t mine, for all that they’re fond of me. In fact, I don’t think they belong to anyone other than themselves, even if a jetii did train them.” He playfully tugged at one ragged ear, only for the anooba to flick it out of his grasp. “You and Marrok are known to them, now. I don’t think Marrok will have a problem playing with them again.”

One of the pack-anoobas punctuated his words with an affirming yip, all of their tails far more relaxed now than they were at the beginning. Ben couldn’t help but smile, even if it was tinged with regret.

“A word of caution though, Embo.”

The Kyuzo tilted his head to signify that he was listening.

“The answers I’m looking for - the Jetii are looking for them, too. They won’t hear it from me, but if they find out your involvement in their brethren’s death…”

The Kyuzo was still watching him.

You don’t care?

By Manda, he cared. He cared so much the rest of the Jetii could go hang until he found the answers he was looking for. Eventually, Ben was able to choke back the vitriol and managed out, “I have other priorities.”

It wasn’t even a lie.

What did Hardeen tell you?

“That you, him, and Derrown were contracted to take down the Dressellian jetii. That Hardeen tranqed him, but not before he cut down Derrown, and that you cuffed him with Force-cuffs, and brought him to Eval’s Box.”

That’s about everything, Embo said with a shrug. What more do you want to know?

“Where is Eval now,” Ben said quietly, “and where is his Box?”

Embo studied him for a moment longer.

“And, I suppose,” he added almost mockingly, “what’s your price for this information?”

Embo gazed out at where Marrok was rolling around in the dirt with another couple of anoobas, while even more were watching and jeering, judging by their wide grins and loud barks.

I would say the pack…

“But they aren’t mine to give, and besides, they’re Jetii-trained. I could speak to the one who trained them, but I’m not sure what you’d do with a whole pack of anoobas running rampant in the Lower Levels. The only reason why they haven’t gained more attention is that they’ve mostly been on their own, playing and scavenging.”

Embo nodded and, thankfully, didn’t argue.

Coruscant is not a place I would like to be any longer, for me or my own. Bounty hunting is a different game these days.

Ben raised his eyebrows beneath his buy’ce.

“That’s…surprising, to hear from you. Ner ori’vod, Jango Fett, I think you know each other, elek?” He waited for Embo to nod his agreement before continuing. “He thought you very dangerous, and exceptionally ruthless. There wasn’t much you wouldn't do to hunt down your prey.”

Hardeen was a predictable creature, with his twisted attempt to justify his self-exile from Manda’yaim. Embo, though, was a different being entirely.

I do what I do for a price, the Kyuzo replied through Solaris. My reasons are my own.

“Okay…” Ben said slowly, mind racing, “and I’m guessing, after Derrown’s death, that price only got larger.”

Embo’s face wasn’t easy to read, but Ben thought he looked rather smug.

“If you help me find Eval and his Box,” he thought aloud, “I'll see what I can do about redistributing his cut.” Ton-Toln would help, he was certain of it, as would Khal.

Embo’s orange eyes gleamed. Details.

Ben drummed his fingers against his armoured thigh, thoughts racing. “You don’t need to be involved in Eval’s capture. In fact, I would prefer you to have nothing to do with it at all. I’m going to pin the Dressellian’s death on him and set the Jetii on him. As for the Box…

“Hardeen said that Eval moved it from where it last was. Will you be able to find it again?”

Embo’s gaze turned towards Marrok. The anooba seemed to sense its owner’s attention, stilling with its ears pricked, only to be bowled over by another anooba, both of them going down in a blur of limbs and tails.

I’ll look into it.

Ben nodded. “Then I’ll look into those finances.”

Embo nodded, and then loosed an ear-piercing whistle. Within his buy’ce, Ben winced. Marrok let out a short, sharp bark, barrelling through the pack to skid to a stop in front of Embo’s legs. The Kyuzo’s expression seemed to soften, and he bent down to ruffle Marrok’s ears. He straightened, only to pull out a comm unit.

“Oh!” Ben rattled out his secondary ID, the same one Narec also had. In all honesty, he was a little surprised that the Guard hadn’t called him out for his obvious lie at not having a permanent ID.

I’ll contact you when I have news, Embo said, tipping his hat. Marrok barked out a farewell to the pack, and then trotted after Embo.

The pack milled around his legs, whining loudly.

“And to think at first you didn’t want to play,” Ben teased, catching one of their wagging tails, but letting it slide through his fingers. An anooba pawed at his tadun’bur, demanding. He chuckled, kneeling so that the pack could shove their snouts in his face.

“I’ll talk to the Guard,” he promised, “and we’ll see about more play-dates. I could tell Marrok enjoyed it, too.” He scratched beneath a low-hanging jaw, uncaring of the slavering fangs that were bared. “For that matter, I should ask the Guard for your names.”

An anooba sat beside him, obligingly still, allowing him to wrap his arms around its shoulders and rest against its solid bulk. It felt blood-warm, even through his beskar’gam. Ben, desperately alone and separated from his aliit for the first time ever since he’d gained them, could only feel a soul-deep gratefulness for the anoobas’ thoughtless closeness. Medically advised cuddles, Khal had told him a lifetime ago. Touch was still Ben’s best bet at keeping an even keel and he needed that, now more than ever.

"Embo wanted to take you off-planet with him," he thought aloud, "and if how he treats Marrok is any guide, I think you might like it." He sighed, resting his head against yet another broad shoulder. "But I doubt the Guard would let you go so willingly, and with him, of all people. Or that you'd let the Guard go, either."

An anooba whined, pawing at his thigh. Ben snorted, scratching beneath its chin. Around him, the anoobas gave him comfort in the same simple way he sought it, and he felt the knot inside his chest begin to ease.

He would still need a moment to properly meditate and tease himself back from the edge he’d been teetering from ever since he’d heard about Reeft, but this was the next best thing.

Running into Tahl so unexpectedly had been- ‘unpleasant’ would be unkind to Tahl and she didn’t deserve that. He remembered enough to know she’d tried to broker things between him and Jinn, before, and she’d been kind to Bant and the Younglings whenever she’d seen them together.

But her being evoked memories he didn't even like admitting he still had.

“Nayc,” he told the dha’kad’au firmly, before it could start. It subsided, but not without reluctance.

Solaris sent him a ping, one laced with just the slightest touch of its Light.

“Thank you,” he croaked, bending his mind to it. “Let’s head back up."

Solaris agreed. And wash the fur off.

He snorted. “And wash the fur off,” he allowed, ruffling an anooba’s crest when it whined at him. “I’ll be back,” he promised the pack.

It wasn’t so bad, Solaris reluctantly admitted as they took the long way back to Bail’s flat, keeping to the shadows. Ben nodded absently. The pack wasn’t sentient, by any means of the word, but they were very sharp and intuitive, almost unnaturally attuned to him - or any other Manda-touched sentient.

He wondered how much the Guard had to do with the anoobas’ obvious intelligence, especially since he had Marrok to compare them with. The pack were leaner, scruffier, ash-grey fur brindled with black, while Marrok was sturdier, stockier built with the consistency of regular meals. It had a clear personality, and was just as attuned to Embo as any of the pack were attuned to him.

“How do their minds feel to you in Manda?” he asked. “Or in the Force, I suppose.”

He could feel Solaris turning the question over in its mind and thought about his own answer to that question. They didn’t think in thoughts or words, not even like the dha’kad’au-.

It stirred with a warning rumble in his mind, and Ben bit back a sigh.

“Elek, elek, you’re one-of-a-kind, utterly exceptional, I wouldn’t be able to function without you.”

The dha’kad’au curled itself around his mind, smugly protective. Despite himself, Ben felt a rising fondness. He was probably just missing ‘yaim bal aliit. That, or he had indigestion.

Solaris didn't bother hiding its amusement, soft waves of Light gently cosseting him.

The anoobas think in instincts, it said. It is not unlike some other predators I have encountered, pack hunters especially. They can be trained - have been trained, it corrected, but they have a higher reasoning capacity than regular animals, and someone- the Guard, I believe?- has taught them rudimentary shields. And as with pack hunters, they know their strength lies together. That makes the Kyuzo’s anooba an interesting one.

“How so?” he asked.

It is undeniably intelligent as well, and every bit as strong-willed as one of the pack, its loyalty entirely given to the Kyuzo.

“He treats Marrok well, then?”

Very.

Ben was glad to hear it. He was fond of animals, as were most Manda-touched, although his nomadic lifestyle hadn’t been conducive to raising one. But perhaps now that he had his aliit, once this Coruscanta osik was completed - and ad’e were supposed to develop responsibility given the care of a pet, weren't they? Maybe a massiff, then, or a strill. He snorted to himself. Maybe even an anooba, although he’d have to warn Cerasi to leave her trigger finger on Melidaan.

Ben himself was partial to varactyls, but those were slightly difficult to house-train - or even fit in a house.

Slipping into Bail’s flat, he swiftly undressed, stacking his beskar’gam out of sight. That left him in just his flightsuit as he tipped the dha’kad’au into the vial of weapons oil to soak, and removed Solaris’s crystal from his neck.

“Do you need a hand?” He glanced down at himself. “Uh- literally, I guess.”

Solaris was not as amused by his offer as he was, and declined.

Leaving the 2 kyber crystals to their business, Ben turned to the kitchen instead, poking around the crisper. He found a fresh tip-yip and fresher greens, and raided the cupboards for some sauces and spices.

A sound at the doorway had him craning his neck. Solaris had hopped into the living room, clumsily reacquainting itself with its droid limbs.

“Can I lend you that hand now?”

Solaris stubbornly trundled closer. Ben bit back a smile. What are you making?

“A soup,” he answered, pulling out a knife to butcher the tip-yip, stripping the meat from its carcass and carving it into parts. He put the hacked-up carcass and the odds and ends - the neck, wing tips, and feet, claws still intact - into a pot with some aromats to caramelise and colour. “I can’t eat too much meat, my body won’t process it, but I can drink a soup made from it well enough.”

Solaris was staring up at the counter overhead, small feet tapping impatiently. Finally, with a frustrated whistle, it levitated itself onto the counter. Ben bit back a smile.

And the meat? it pressed.

Bail’s spices and sauces were still out on the counter.

“I can mix out a bit of a marinade, leave it to soak, and then whack it into the oven later. It reheats well, too, and I can make a sandwich with the shredded leftovers for Bail to take in for lunch tomorrow.”

Your dietary requirements are needlessly complicated.

Ben snorted. “Having taste buds isn’t a hardship.” He added water to the pot and turned down the heat, leaving it to simmer and fill the flat with a fragrant aroma.

He found some barley hidden behind several tins of preserved fruit, and set aside the gysahl greens to throw into the soup right at the end.

“Alright, that’ll do,” he huffed, wiping down the kitchen counter. The soup would need time to develop flavour, and in the interim-. He glanced at the chrono; ‘yaim would be stirring at the start of day.

“May I?” he asked, waiting for Solaris’s agreement before he picked it up and sprawled across the sofa, calling up his comm into his other hand.

Like before, Sy answered almost immediately, a warm smile on his face.

“Su cuy’gar, Ben’ika, Solaris,” he intoned carefully.

“Su cuy, Sy,” he replied, sinking deeply into the sofa as Solaris chirped out its own greeting. “How are you? The ikaad’e?”

Sy’s eyes crinkled, the wrinkles around the edges deepening. “Jaster was of the opinion that today was going to be a ba’buir day.” He spoke the Mando’a word with almost adorable gravitas. Then his words registered.

“Oh, ka’ra,” Ben laughed, tipping his head back.

“Yes, quite,” Sy agreed, his smile widening. “Apparently, Khal had to threaten Yan into joining them. Silas will be with them, just to keep an eye on things - and take bets for Bo-Katan, I'm told.”

“Wow,” Ben said. Then again, better Yan'buir get more accustomed to handling ikaad'e sooner rather than later. “All 5 of them?"

“Yes,” Sy said again. “I did ask Cody and Rex to be on their best behaviour, although we all know his highness does as his highness pleases.”

Ben snickered. “That’s Manda’s own truth. That frees up your day, doesn’t it?”

“I was thinking of having a quiet day and dedicating a bit more time to the Integration classes,” Sy replied. “Everyone has been very understanding because of the ikaad’e, but as they also like to remind me, I am Mando’ad now, too.” He paused, considering. “How are you, Ben’ika?”

He didn’t answer immediately, still thinking of how to phrase his thoughts.

“Is there truly nothing you miss about the Jetii?”

His question had clearly taken the older man by surprise. The smile fell off his face and he looked pensive.

“I wish…there are very many things that I wish,” he eventually murmured. His dark eyes bored into Ben’s own. “You were raised in the Temple, as was I, as was Yan and Komari, as were so many others. I have a certain nostalgia of that time, when things were so much simpler and comfort so much easier to give.”

Ben stayed silent, patiently waiting for Sy to gather his thoughts.

“I don’t doubt their intentions,” he continued. “I never have, and I don’t think I ever will. Being Force-sensitive, you can feel those intentions as well as I can.”

Ben had to give him that, no matter how begrudgingly. Nearly all the jetiise he had met thus far had been well-meaning and had at least been willing to hear him out, even if they clearly had their own thoughts, like Nu. Not that Ben had forgotten Rhara, but he also knew Garen had purposely goaded her into lashing out, although none of them had expected her to lash out literally.

Still, he wouldn’t forget, and knew Garen wouldn’t either.

“But it’s hard to do the right thing when you only know one half of the story and will only hear out of one ear, and at the end of the day, it was not them I entrusted with ner ikaad'e, but the Mando'ad."

That was not smug pleasure Ben felt at his words, no, not at all, no sirree-. Solaris nudged his mind, rolling its droid eyes at him. Ben snickered, scratching beneath its chin.

“You’re not the only one who Sees visions, though. Surely, someone else-?”

Sy’s mouth twisted. “I was already the Order’s representative of the Unifying Force on the Council. Meetings ran the same, whether or not I was there.” He relented with a sigh, head hanging. “I had more say in the Treasury and the Archives, who were at least willing to hear me out.”

“Did you know what Reeft was looking into?”

He hadn’t meant to ask the words, but they fell out of his mouth regardless.

“He didn’t come to me with his suspicions, if that’s what you’re asking,” Sy quietly replied. “He didn’t go to anyone with his suspicions.”

Ben cleared his throat. “Right, you Saw it, I remember. I met Nu, at the Archives. She still remembers you and Yan’buir.”

Sy’s face softened. “That’s unexpected,” he murmured.

“I saw Tahl today, too,” he blurted out.

Sy’s eyes brightened. “Was she alright?” he asked. “I left her a terrible excuse for a message before heading to Kamino.”

“You were...close?”

“We had tea together at least once a month,” Sy replied, “and she had regular correspondence with Yan. She felt very adrift after Melidaan and losing her sight.” Ben hadn’t known that. He hadn’t known any of that at all.

Then again, when he was younger, he hadn’t wanted to know any of it, either. Was that regret he was feeling, at the oversight? Ben wasn’t certain.

“What did you talk about?”

Sy hummed, closing his eyes as he settled in more comfortably.

“Various things,” he replied. “Her recovery and the path the Force led her feet on. We would debate my visions - not the subject of them, no, but what she felt was the most appropriate action regarding them. The Order’s shrinking role in the wider galaxy.”

He let out a sigh. “For some bizarre reason, she also liked to tell me about her liaisons with Master Fisto, even after learning I was asexual.”

Ben burst out laughing, feeling almost hysterical. “Tahl and Fisto? I never expected that; Bant never mentioned it.”

Sy looked curious. “Were your relationships something you often discussed with your Younglings?

He laughed again, softer. “Doesn’t everyone? I mean, it doesn’t even have to be a romantic relationship, just the notable ones one develops with those closest to them. Bant was the only one of us to have a lasting romantic relationship.”

“You did too,” Sy pointed out.

His mouth twisted. “It either lasted long enough or too long, depending on which of us you ask.” He shook his head. “Regardless, it’s over.”

Solaris beeped out a chiding note, hunkering down, chassis tilted in his direction.

Ben snorted. “Ah, yes, how could I forget. I appreciate the reminder that I'm not alone.” Thank Manda the dha'kad'au was preoccupied with its soak. He reached out to pet Solaris's small droid body. “May I-?” Solaris pressed its consent to his mind, and Ben shifted so that he could comfortably rest his elbow along the back of the sofa while continuing to pet it.

When he looked up again, Sy was watching them, clear fondness on his face.

“I’m glad you seem to be in good spirits,” he said. “Jango didn’t want to admit it, but Myles said they were worried for you, being on your own.”

His fingers spasmed atop Solaris’s chassis. It let out a questioning whistle, and he forced his fingers into motion again.

“I’m fine,” Ben said belatedly.

Sy’s mouth parted. “Ben’ika?”

He shook his head. “They don’t need to worry.”

“Ben’ika.” Sy said his name the same way he said Cody’s and Rex’s, soft and kind and understanding. “I may be ill-used to family and aliit, but I think they would worry regardless simply because they love you, just because they care.”

He blinked rapidly, pinching his nose bridge hard to hold back the tears. Solaris let out a low whistle, leaning against him and radiating Light. Ben exhaled sharply.

“Like you said earlier, I do not doubt that Jetii mean well. But they have not done well, and I and my own have been burnt too many times to trust them again.”

Sy only nodded.

“Did you See this?” he demanded, suspicious.

“Would it make a difference even if I did?” Sy asked. “Did my words affect your conclusions in any way?”

“...no,” he admitted, begrudging. “If anything, they confirmed them.”

For a single moment, Sy looked mournful.

“I am Mando’ad now,” he said slowly, “and I am endlessly grateful for their understanding. But there is a reason why I cannot go to the Mand’alor as Cin Vhetin, not while a part of me remains Jedi and sees them as my family, still.”

Sy’s caution and truthfulness was preferable to its inverse, Ben told himself. The man himself was in good health and better spirits, and clearly cared for cuun ikaad’e bal aliit. If he saw Others as aliit, still-. Ben chose to address the least mine-laden part of his words and leave the rest for another day.

“Jas'buir isn’t just Mand’alor to you, you know, he’s ner buir and ba’buir be cuun ikaad’e. He could be gar buir, too.”

Sy choked. Ben snickered, merciless, even as Solaris let out a chiding series of beeps.

“I- I do not doubt Jaster’s calibre as- as buir,” Sy coughed, “and he is unquestionably aliit: through you, through cuun ikaad’e, through Yan - even through Myles, Jango, and val ikaad’e, it’s just that I- um, personally, I, uh-.”

Ben laughed in his face. After a moment of surprise, Sy’s expression turned rueful, and he joined in, too. Solaris let out a whistle of a sigh, relaxing between him and the back of Bail’s sofa.

“I was teasing, Sy. Well, mostly.”

The older man ducked his head, cheeks pink, although his mouth was still smiling. “Yan and I are as good as siblings,” he confessed. Well, that bode well. In comparison, it had taken Yan’buir nearly 10 years to admit to a similarly familial connexion. “To call his riduur my buir, never mind that they are 2 parts of your parental triad, never mind that the relationship between us isn’t-.”

Ben shook his head, waving away Sy’s words. “No one’s asking you to justify yourself, Sy. No one’s expecting an adjustment so soon, either, especially with the scale of these changes. As long as you are attending your mir'jahaal'tsad sessions."

Sy nodded in agreement. “Once again, I am both astounded and grateful for the sheer capacity of understanding from the Mando’ad.” He sighed, sifting a hand through his hair. It was longer than Yan’buir’s, almost as long as Khal’s, and completely black, coarse, and somehow familiar. A playful thought struck Ben.

“Has Myles taken you and the ikaad’e to his aliit’s farms?”

Sy blinked, startled. “No, we’ve been a little busy, and the Mand’alor has requested we keep the ikaad’e close to home for now.”

“Well, when you get the chance to do so,” he said, nodding.

“Myles has farms,” Sy thought aloud. “He didn’t strike me as a farmer?”

He laughed. “No, not of vegetation or crop, but animals.”

Sy blanched. “Those animals wouldn’t happen to be orbaks, would they?”

“You’ve Seen something, haven’t you?”

Sy winced. “Something,” he agreed, “I haven’t managed to figure out the when and where quite yet.”

He nodded. He knew what visions could be like.

Then Sy’s face softened. “How are you truly faring, though? Ben’ika.”

Confused about the Jetii. Confused about the beroya’se. Playing a fine, fine line between the Guards, the Archives, and the rest of the Temple.

“Ben’ika?” Sy prompted, starting to look concerned.

He shook his head. “I never knew the Guard while I was at the Temple. I didn’t realise how bloodthirsty they were.”

Sy looked shocked. “Bloodthirsty? Truly?"

He shrugged. “Over Reeft’s death, at least. Getting the beroya’se off Coruscanta without a confrontation between the 2 parties is going to be fun.”

Sy continued to look shocked. “What is it?” Ben demanded.

“Aren’t you- aren’t you just as, well, excuse my words, just as bloodthirsty as them?”

Solaris let out an urgent whistle, jolting awake at his surge of emotion from where it had been dozing against his hip. Ben could only stare at Sy’s face as he tried to breathe.

“If I were truly bloodthirsty,” he slowly began, “I would have taken Garen’s info and tested the ori’ramikadyc’s planet-destroying capabilities.”

Sy flinched.

“Every moment I am here in-disguise is a testament to my control, in my pursuit of justice, not revenge. I hardly responded to Narec's request out of the goodness of my heart, and neither the Jetii nor the Tsad Droten deserve mercy.”

Sy looked like he'd stopped breathing altogether.

“Why are you surprised?” he demanded. “I’m Mando’ad. My people are hardly altruists, and I am verd."

“At the same time, you would extend such an understanding to the bounty hunters involved in Reeft’s death?”

Ben exhaled heavily. “And as I told the Guard, I can recognise and respect professionalism. Save one, the beroya’se did their jobs; I can’t fault them for competence and acting within the limits of their contracts.” He’d felt Hardeen and Embo’s minds, and Solaris agreed that for Embo, at least, it hadn’t been personal.

“I can hardly be a hypocrite and castigate someone else for murder. If you want to get down to the bottom of things, nearly every single person in that compound with you is a murderer.”

Sy stared. Ben didn’t know why; the man had to have Seen this.

“You saw what happened on Kamino. Did you think Jango just held hands and made nice with the Zygerrians, when I literally threatened you with ner ori’vod? Why do you think Nield is still the oldest on Melidaan? By Manda, Bandomeer made me a murderer before Jinn ever made me a Padawan.” His mouth twisted when Sy gasped. “Having second thoughts now?”

“No, I-.” The man bowed his head. “My apologies, Ben’ika. I did not mean to be judgemental.”

He drew in a deep breath and looked away as Solaris beeped urgently, nudging his lax hand with its chassis. He kept his hand steady as he gently stroked Solaris, the repetitive motions as much comfort to him as it was the Shard.

“I don’t know what you expected. Reeft’s death may be personal to me, but verd have taken similar contracts in the past, and beroya’se need to eat as much as Jetii do. I can hardly penalise them for doing their jobs.”

“And…compartmentalising is so easy for you?” Sy asked, an awkward look on his face. His eyes were soft, even through the holo. Those might have been the only reasons why Ben didn’t lose his temper.

“Easy isn’t exactly the word I’d use,” he pointed out. “I know professionalism when I see it. Being known as jetii-killer doesn’t win you the same renown as it used to, not with how collared they’ve been. It’s hardly the sort of thing you want to advertise anymore."

Sy dipped his head. “I bow to your expertise, Ben’ika. Ni ceta,” he apologised, for the first time since Ben had told him what those words meant. “You know I See things but I don’t always know them. I certainly didn’t know this.”

Ben had nothing to say, and so said nothing. Solaris let out a series of clicks, impressing numbers and fading sunlight against his mind. He glanced aside to see the chrono, only to let out a hiss; time had bled away while they’d been talking. He gestured at the tray of marinating tip-yip parts and floated them into the oven, setting a timer.

“I should let you go,” Sy offered. “It must be almost time for latemeal, there.”

“Elek,” he agreed, “and you have your classes to get to. One of those is far more enjoyable than the other.”

Sy pulled a face, likely exaggerated for humour. Ben didn’t feel like laughing, but he could offer the older man a smile.

“K’oyacyi,” Sy said, with far better pronunciation. “Come back to us.”

“Your Mando’a has improved,” he replied with a nod. “I won’t stop trying.”

He clicked off the comm and let his hang off the sofa arm with a groan. “Talktalktalktalktalktalktalk,” he muttered.

Solaris nudged his knuckles with a chiding beep. Uncomfortable communication is better than no communication.

“I’ll give you that,” he replied. “Doesn’t make it any easier, though.”

The flat grew fragrant with the smell of roasting tip-yip. Ben eventually pushed upright and poked at the soup, straining the bones from the liquid. He poured in the barley and added a dash of salt, setting the soup back on the stove to continue simmering.

Bail arrived home just before the timer for the tip-yip went off, announcing himself with a loud moan.

“By the Killik it smells amazing in here, I take back everything I said about your cooking or lack thereof.”

Ben rolled his eyes and began to set the table. “Go get cleaned up,” he ordered, “dinner will be ready by the time you’re done.”

“Actually, Adika,” the man called through the open door of his bedroom, “I was wondering if you might be open to having a long-distance dinner with my Queen and, well, there’s no hiding this from you: Senator Naberrie.”

Ben snorted, amused despite the lingering exhaustion of the day. “Is that what you call her in bed? I can’t imagine what she calls you.”

Bail squeaked. “That’s-!”

“Not bedfellows, then?” he continued to tease. “How about wall-fellows? Floor-fellows?”

“Oh, by the stars,” Bail mumbled, emerging from his room in far simpler robes, a hand over his eyes. Solaris whistled out a warning before he could walk into the caf table because it was a far kinder being than he. Bail started and nearly rammed his knee into the table anyway.

“Oh, thank you, Solaris,” he said, smiling kindly.

“Dinner?” Ben prompted.

“There’s hardly a time difference at all between Coruscant and Alderaan,” Bail explained. “I’ve told them- well, you’ve heard what I’ve told them about you,” the man mumbled, dark cheeks darkening further. “They would like to meet you, if you were so obliged.”

After such a heavy conversation with Sy and that meeting with Tahl, Ben was very much not obliged, but-.

“In the fairness of full diclosure, I was expecting this request ages ago.”

“Truly?” Bail asked, astonished.

“You and your spouse have a healthy relationship with open communication,” he pointed out. “And Naberrie hardly seems the type to allow herself to be sidelined.”

“That is not incorrect,” Bail muttered, gaze raking over the kitchen to avoid looking him in the eye. “How may I set the table?”

“2 coasters,” he instructed, “one for the soup and one for the hot bird. Bowls and spoons and- maybe a dish for the bones?”

He left the man to his own devices while he poked at the soup again, checking if the barley had cooked through. Nodding to himself, he threw the gysahl greens in, put the lid back on, and then turned off the heat.

“Would you be alright, then? With dinner, that is?”

Ben sighed, contemplating fumbling with oven mittens before deciding to throw caution to the wind and floating the soup pot onto the table.

“Dinner’s fine,” he said, busying himself with digging out tongs and a ladle. Solaris let out a questioning whistle.

“Oh, of course you could meet them as well!” Bail exclaimed, sounding far too cheered for his mood. The man was hardly Manda-touched; Ben absently wondered what Solaris sounded like to him.

“Give me a moment to wash up, and I’ll be right there.”

He strode past Bail and into the ‘fresher, resting his head against the cool marble tile. Usually, his braided hair was a relief, one more thing he could securely tuck out of place and away from inquisitive ikaad’e hands, but in this moment he quite literally wanted to let his hair down.

His hair spilt every which way when he pulled out the pins securing his braid in place. A quick spritz of water corralled the worst of the flyaway strands, and he braided back the middle-front section of his hair, twisting the ends in on themselves rather than pinning them into place. It was a casual, serviceable style, one that made him appear younger and more approachable.

The last time he’d fully let down his hair had been on Manda’yaim.

Really? Solaris trilled when it caught sight of him. Ben primly ignored it, as well as Bail’s double-take.

“Shall we?” he asked, nodding at the table. “I’m not certain how you wanted to get things set up between Coruscanta and Alderaan.”

Bail cleared his throat, turning away to hide his smarting face. “Um, yes, of course. I, uh, have a secure comm unit. Oh, and, um, you should know that Padmé has handmaidens who will likely be within earshot of our meal.”

He nodded again, distractedly sweeping his hair behind his shoulder. “I’d heard as much,” he replied.

His first thought upon seeing Bail and Breha Organa together was that they were a well-matched couple. They were well into the years, not just as individuals but as a couple, as a Planetary Leader and a Senator, and a Queen and her Prince Consort. They were also clearly attuned to each other despite the distance between them, and however long had passed since they’d last seen each other in-person.

In contrast, Padmé Naberrie was younger - not scandalously so, and he knew Organa and Naberrie had known each other as reigning monarchs before Naberrie had met Bail at the Senate. She was not as familiar with the couple, but they were open with their affection towards her in front of him, never mind that he was a near-stranger.

It took bravery, he thought, to bring someone new into the fold. Likewise, it took time and courage to join an established couple without feeling like one was intruding. He’d felt like the interloper, once, between Cerasi and Nield, even if Nield had confessed he’d felt similarly, at the end. Watching the Alderaanian monarchs and their ex-monarch of a lover stirred up old memories but they weren’t unwelcome ones, not anymore.

Solaris chirred, its mind brushing against his in question. Ben spared it a flicker of a smile, touching its Light with his own.

He did appreciate Organa and Naberrie’s candidness, their immediate insistence of dispensing with formality. Then again, Ben was practically royalty himself, not that any of the ad’e be’Mand’alor would ever admit to it.

He gently inquired upon Naberrie's health and that of her handmaidens, since ostensibly, she was meant to be in hiding. She thanked him for his concern and reassured him (and Bail), and countered with her worry that the untold attention that had once been directed her way had been turned towards Bail, instead. It was almost like playing dejarik: one step, and then counter, with strategy underpinning every move.

"I'm keeping an eye on things at the Bounty Hunters' Guild," he said.

"You are?" Bail exclaimed. Ben sent him a faint smile.

"Their lower-level members are quite depleted after that first and only attempt on your life. If you continue laying low in the meantime, whoever contracted them might be appeased out of a second attempt."

He didn't mention how he knew the majority of their handful of remaining high-level members by name.

"And would you happen to have any idea as to who might be behind either of these contracts, Adika?" Organa asked. One step, and then counter.

"I'm looking into it," he replied, smiling sweetly. "I have my own vested interests in keeping your spouse alive, you see."

Bail went bright red and promptly buried his blush in his soup, ending that line of conversation.

“I don’t think anyone in the galaxy could be kicking themselves more than me,” Naberrie confessed after they had finished their respective meals and were lingering, after-dinner drinks in hand. Bail had replenished his silver-tip tea, much to Ben’s appreciation, while the 2 women appeared to prefer caf. One of Naberrie's infamous handmaidens finally made an appearance, silently drifting into view with 2 cafcups. From his fleeting glance of her, she appeared almost identical to Naberrie.

“Palpatine rose to the Chancellorship off my vote of no confidence," the woman continued. "In hindsight, his motives seem all too clear.”

“What’s past is done and cannot be undone,” Ben shrugged. “A better question is: what will you do in the future?”

Organa’s gaze darkened and her lips thinned, while Bail looked uneasily between him and the holo-projection of his lovers. Naberrie didn’t appear to notice, shaking her head and sending her carefully styled hair rustling.

“Learn more? Do better, certainly.” She brushed off the implication that had so agitated her partners without batting an eye; his words almost certainly paled in light of any conjured by her own mind. “The Palpatine Estate and its assets have been frozen after the man’s death, given the lack of a will, but in light of his crimes, Queen Neeyutnee has seized it for investigation. If there could be any clues left on the premises-.”

Ben fell still. Bail’s head jerked, frown building. “Adika?” he asked.

“If you do take that route,” he said slowly, “then I would advise you to be on your highest guard. The whole galaxy has learnt a harsh lesson that things were not as they seemed regarding one Sheev Palpatine.”

Organa’s frown mirrored Bail’s own, but Naberrie looked like an akk on the hunt. The Collective had their own fond memories of the woman, he recalled, and it was only her connexion with Palpatine that had caused their endorsement to waver.

“What do you know?” she demanded.

“Oh, no,” he snorted, leaning back in his chair. “Ner vod’e have done enough legwork for your Tsad Droten already. Besides, the evidence will be all the more compelling if you find it on your own terms.” And he promptly refused to say anything more on the matter despite Naberrie’s admittedly amusing wheedling.

After their comm had concluded, Bail lingered at the table while he stood, stringing along the empty dishes behind him.

“What’s on your mind?” he asked, impatiently shrugging stray locks of hair behind his shoulder. Solaris’s boop was tinged with the feeling of serves-you-right.

Are you being petty? Ben teased, raising an eyebrow at it, causing it to let out a rebuttal of fierce clicks and beeps.

“No offence was meant,” he laughed, reaching out to pet it, but Solaris whirred, toddling out of his soapy reach. “Oops,” he huffed, “after I dry my hands.”

Throughout this exchange, Bail had stayed strangely silent. In all honesty, he had been especially silent since the start of the comm. Had Organa and Naberrie realised it, same as he?

“This must be seem so easy for you.”

“Easy?” Ben scoffed. That word again, easy.

He thought of Komari, struggling through her physiotherapy and relearning her own limbs. Of Jango and Sy, so openly struggling through parenthood. Of the ikaad’e and their invisible scars. Of the Zabaraki ad’e, who loved each other with so much fear. Of every single planet that had joined the Secession, of the exhaustive debates he had undertaken with every member of the Collective, of the many stories Bail had yet to hear.

“Easy is not the word I would use,” was all he could manage out in the end.

“You give off the appearance of it,” Bail continued. “Nothing ever seems to ruffle you.” He paused, and Ben felt his stomach turn at the look on his face.

“You have the Force,” Bail said. “Did you mindtrick me into anything?”

His laugh was hollow as Solaris whirred uneasily, its chassis rotating between them. “If that's what you think of me, does my answer even matter?"

“Of course it does,” Bail insisted. “If I could just hear the words from you- I would never have gotten this far without my instincts.”

“And this is what your instincts are telling you?”

He didn't bother mentioning how he could countermand the man's lauded instincts without breaking a sweat. The used cutlery and dishes were all stacked in the sink, covered in soap. If Ben tried rinsing them now, he'd shatter them.

"At the very least, I had to ask."

Maybe he should have waited for Naberrie to return to Coruscanta, her connexion to Palpatine be damned. Surely, that would have been better than-.

“Well, if that’s what you think of me, then there’s really no point in taking this any further, is there?” He wiped his hands on a dishtowel and summoned the dha’kad’au’s crystal. “I have never once used Manda on you.”

He keyed in the exit code for Bail’s flat and left, the door shutting soundlessly behind him.

Chapter Text

It took him waking in an overheated pile of anoobas in the weak morning light to come to his senses.

“Well, that was suitably dramatic,” Ben muttered at the dha’kad’au, its bottle of weapons oil still clasp tightly in his hand. The anooba that had claimed his sternum for its pillow huffed, pointedly needling him with its chin.

“Elek, elek,” he mumbled, raising a hand to scratch between its ears. It let out a rumble of contentment, lazily closing its eyes as it resettled on top of him. Ben thought his head was resting on an anooba’s thigh, or maybe a back, it was a little hard to tell. He definitely noticed the tail waving flag-like in front of his nose, and promptly sneezed.

“Ugh,” he groaned, letting his head thunk back as more anoobas sleepily yipped out their laughter at his expense. “What has that dratted Guard been teaching you?”

A cold nose promptly jabbed behind his ear. Ben groaned again.

“You’re a horror,” he muttered. “I’m a horror. We’re all horrors; clearly I’m in good company.”

He let the repetitive motions of scratching between the anooba’s ears soothe him as he thought aloud.

“I’ve left behind ner beskar’gam, practically all of my supplies, those Jetii robes, Solaris, a ‘fresher, all of Bail’s good will, not that there was much left there at the end-.”

He let out yet another loud groan. “I really didn’t think this through.”

In that moment, of course, his comm unit trilled out an incoming comm from Narec’s ID.

“Kuur, gedet’ye,” he politely requested of the stirring anoobas as he accepted the comm, keeping it to a voice call.

“Narec?”

“Adika, good morning!” the man exclaimed, entirely too brightly for this hour. “I’m sorry for disturbing you at such an early hour, but I thought you ought to receive this news as soon as possible.”

“Yes, Narec?”

“The Council will be cleansing the nexus this week!” Narec cheered. Well, at least this news explained his disproportionate exuberance, palpable even through the comm. “Unfortunately, neither Archivist Nu nor Teacher Yoda could recall or uncover when had been the last time the nexus had been cleaned, so the Council was in accord that a full cleansing was well overdue.”

Ben sent a neighbouring anooba a wry look. You don’t say, he didn’t say.

“That is good news,” was what he actually said.

“Yes,” Narec agreed, his smile audible, “it absolutely is. However, that also means the Temple will be closed to all non-Jedi personnel for the rest of the week. And for you to have come all this way into the Core, only for your work with us to be put off time and time again-.”

“Narec, that’s-.”

“I have petitioned the Council for your fees to be paid in full,” the man said firmly, “in light of your advice regarding the nexus, and they have agreed. We could not in good conscience expect you to put up with these unscheduled delays out of pocket.”

“That’s- more than I expected, Narec,” he admitted quietly. The Republic credits wouldn’t hurt, of course, but he would never have asked for such a boon.

“It is no more than you deserve, for services rendered,” Narec returned. “I’m sorry that neither I nor Sha will be available to entertain you this week, given how all in-house Jedi will be required to assist in the cleansing.”

“I’m hardly a child who needs to be endlessly entertained, Narec,” he chided.

“I’m sorry,” the man mumbled, his voice uncertain.

Ben sighed. Honestly, these Jetti. “I was hardly blaming you, Narec, just pointing out that your expectations were both unnecessary and unrealistic.”

“Perhaps,” Narec allowed, “but it was my request that brought you to Coruscant in the first place. In any other time, I would have offered up accommodations within the Temple itself, so you needn’t have borne the extra costs.”

Well, kark that. Just as Narec hadn’t known Ben would have made the journey to Coruscanta regardless, he also didn’t know that Ben would have rather slept in the gutters than stay at the Temple.

“That’s quite alright, Narec. You’re ensuring that I’m being adequately compensated,” he managed out.

“Still,” the man huffed, “if there is anything else at all that we can do for you during this time-.”

“Won’t you be rather busy with that matter of the cleansing?” he pointed out.

“Well. After that, then,” Narec continued stubbornly. “While you were speaking with Sha, you also mentioned how you were going to give cooking different cuisines a try. Is that still the case?”

Ben stared down at the anooba still lolling on his chest. “I-.” He'd been planning to brush up on his cooking, mostly for ner ikaad'e, but since leaving Bail’s flat, he didn’t have access to a kitchen anymore.

The anooba huffed almost soundlessly, flexing its jaw.

“Sure,” Ben said blankly.

“Wonderful,” Narec said, appearing not to have noticed his lapse. “I’m a better hand at baking than cooking, I’m afraid, but the Jedi kitchens have no shortage of recipes from across the galaxy. Are there any dishes or cuisines in particular you were thinking of?”

“Straightforward ones, I suppose,” Ben said slowly, “for omnivorous Humanoid consumption. And-.” Here, he hesitated.

“Adika?” Narec prompted.

“...would you happen to have any frog recipes?”

Narec made a long-suffering, exasperated sound. “Frog recipes,” he huffed, “of all the things in the galaxy- you ask for frog recipes.”

He snorted at the reaction his words received. “Are you a fan, Narec?”

“Quite the contrary, in fact,” the man replied wryly, “but my Padawan is quite the frog connoisseur. She collected and traded frog recipes, from stews to barbecues to roasts, taste-tested them among- among friends,” he added, voice cracking.

Ben raised his eyebrows, not that it was visible. “Narec?”

“It’s- no, forgive me,” the man stuttered out. “But that list my Padawan’s managed to gather over the years, would you still want it?”

“Yes, please.”

He could almost see Narec nodding absently. “I’ll send it to this comm ID,” he agreed, “as well as any other recipes that might fit your requirements. If you have any other requests, please feel free to send them along. I might not be able to get to them immediately, but-.”

“No, that’s absolutely fine, Narec, I understand your priorities, this request of mine is more recreational than anything. I appreciate you looking into this for me, considering what else you've got on your plate."

They signed off quickly enough after that, and Ben settled back onto his anooba mattress with a sigh. Another crept close, nosing in under his elbow. Ben booped its nose, smiling at its protesting squeak, although it did schutta close, nesting against his armpit and ignoring the warning growl from the anooba that had already claimed his sternum.

“Why should Embo or the Guard get to abscond with you?” he demanded plainly. “Clearly, I should.” There would even be an anooba for every one of the ikaad’e, and then some.

Another anooba whined, licking his ear.

“I know, I know, we’ll get up and get on with our day soon enough, just- give me a moment longer.” To savour the uncomplicated heat and warmth of the pack, their easy acceptance and affection. He scratched beneath a presented jaw, sighing as he leant his own cheek against a furry cheek.

“Even if I don’t get to to bring you home with me,” he murmured, “I’m definitely going to argue for visitation rights.”

He spent a little more time with the anoobas, but his own ablutions could hardly be settled so easily. Well, some of them could, but he could hardly wash in a gutter the same way he could piss in one.

Fortunately for him, there was now an excess of rooms at the Bounty Hunters’ Guild.

“Will you be staying for long?” the Humanoid at the counter asked, radiating nothing but curiosity. “It’s just- Mandalorians aren’t common in the Core much, anymore. I think Hardeen’s the only one most of us’ve seen, and he don’t keep his armour on between jobs.”

Ben glanced down at the anooba sitting so close to him, its front paws were practically parked on his foot.

“I suppose I don’t have to ask how you know I’m Mando’ad, even without my beskar’gam, huh.”

The Humanoid laughed, ducking her head shyly. Judging by the green tint to her skin, she might claim some Mirialan heritage. “Some of us’ve caught sight of the anoobas from a distance, but think this is the first time most of us’ve seen their ‘armoured trainer’ in the flesh.”

The Guard would likely take offence at that, but what they didn’t know wouldn’t hurt them.

“What’s your name?” he asked.

The Humanoid brightened. “Sachi,” she said, offering him a shy smile. “Sachi M’bak.”

Ben dipped his head. “And I am Adika. Sachi M’bak, I have been well-met.”

Her skin flushed a darker shade of green. “Are you apprenticing here?” Ben asked.

She gave him a lopsided smile. “Sorta,” she replied, and he left it at that. He nodded again.

“I suppose we’ll be seeing a bit more of each other in the coming weeks, then.”

“Um. About your anoobas.”

The one closest (who was actually perched on his foot, now) perked up its ears, rising up on its hind legs so it could sniff behind the desk. Sachi looked startled.

Ben huffed, ruffling its crest. “I know there have been rumours about their behaviour but they’re really very well trained, I promise.”

“We ain't...we ain't really set up for a whole- for a whole pack,” Sachi hedged, glancing at its teeth uncertainly. “I know Embo comes in and out with his Marrok, but-.”

Ben looked down at the pack, who had taken up the entire reception area. “If you come up with a rotation among yourselves,” he instructed, “I’ll look into play-dates with Marrok.” More ears perked up, and Ben was nearly thwapped on the face by a wagging tail.

“Do they understand Basic?” Sachi asked, sounding awed, and then she let out a startled giggle when the anooba on her desk licked her, head cocked at an adorable angle.

“When it suits them,” he replied, teasingly tugging at a notched ear.

Surprisingly, the anooba who’d crowded into his space didn’t get first shift with him, but it did lead the rest of the dejected pack out into the gloom of the Lower Levels.

“I kinda feel bad about that,” Sachi admitted as she handed over a keycard. He pretended not to notice how she timidly patted the one remaining anooba on its head.

“You’ll see plenty more of them,” Ben said, “ori'haat."p>

He swept the room he was assigned, finding 2 hidden bugs and crushing them. The walls were thinner than he liked, although not as thin as the inner walls in Bail’s flat, so he’d have to sneak back into the 500 Republica for his jammer and white noise filter.

Well. He’d have to sneak back for a lot more than that, and he’d hardly be able to leave half of it in a semi-secure location like the Bounty Hunters’ Guild. They had some measure of security, but Sachi was hardly a guard and likely barely paid enough to man the front desk, and honour among beroya’se only reached a point.

His comm chimed, and he glanced down to see the first of the recipes Narec was sending him. Ben smiled even as he set his comm on mute, and wondered if Bail had known to properly store the leftover tip-yip in the crisper.

There was no time like the present to find out, he supposed.

Bail’s flat was painfully familiar, from the thin walls to the worn old sofa that had borne his weight over the past few weeks. The kitchen was clean, dry dishes left out on the rack. When he checked the crisper, there was far too much roasted tip-yip in an airtight plastbox for Bail to have taken any in to work.

His Mirialan jetii robes were untouched, as was his beskar’gam, all without even a tracer in sight, but Solaris was nowhere to be found. There was very little one could do to hurt a Shard, even in its droid body, but Ben doubted Bail would intentionally harm it, given the fondness he’d clearly displayed towards it.

Maybe Bail had taken Solaris in to work with him. It was a wonderful being to have at one’s back, but slightly less useful in the food department.

The dha’kad’au pressed snidely against his mind.

Ben sighed. “Don’t be obnoxious, gedet’ye.”

He packed up his things, strapping on his beskar’gam and feeling all the better for its weight enclosing him. Ben took a moment to look around Bail’s emptied flat one last time.

“It was good while it lasted,” he admitted, his gauntlet lingering on the kitchen counter. “Why do you think he thought that?” he couldn’t help but ask. “Was I playing my cards too close to my chest? Had I done something to make him think I’d do- do that?” 

His bond with the dha’kad’au blazed brightly in his mind. It had always trusted him, wanted him.

Ben snorted, reluctantly amused. “You’re so good for my self-esteem,” he muttered, brushing fond fingers against its casing before he gathered up his belongings.

Right before he left, though, he caught sight of Bail’s comm unit, where he must have mistakenly left it. It was the same one he’d used to contact his queen and Naberrie, wherever they were sequestered on Alderaan.

“What do you think?” he asked aloud.

The dha’kad’au wasn’t impressed, but it rarely was.

“There’s a reason the Collective had narrowed it down to either Bail or Naberrie; that woman has a spine like cortosis, at the very least. I don’t think she was joking at all, about reviewing Palpatine’s estate.”

The closest Ben had ever come to personally facing Dar’jetii was Xanatos, and then that shared vision with Sy. He could warn Naberrie- had warned Naberrie- but personally, had no idea of how to even start explaining what she could expect. And even if she were on her guard, with her murder of handmaidens at her back, unless one of them was secretly undercover as a Jedi, there was little any of them could do against Manda attacks.

The dha’kad’au grumbled at him.

“I am not a bleeding heart, I simply think the dead prick doesn’t deserve any more limbs. I know Naberrie has handmaidens in excess, but it’s not as if they have limbs in excess.”

He plucked the comm unit from the table counter and flipped into the air, deftly catching it.

“All I’m going to do,” he decided, “is comm buir. What’s done on that end is out of my hands.”

The dha’kad’au snorted. Or did the kad’au equivalent. At him. In his own head.

“I think I’m going to throw you at So’ika the next time I see her and laugh while you 2 scream at each other. Honestly, I don’t understand why you don’t like each other better, given your similarities.”

This time, the dha’kad’au remained blessedly, pointedly silent.

Sachi was just getting off her shift as he returned, and she sleepily waved at him.

“Haven’t seen the anoobas,” she said through an enormous yawn.

He waved off her worry; the pack had long known to care for themselves way before he was ever involved.

“They’ll be fine; you’ll see.”

A week of prowling through the Bounty Hunters’ Guild gave him a better sense of how things stood in the Core. Previously, he’d been tearing through the beroya’se and their informants to get his answers, and now he took his time to really sit back and listen to the state of the Republic underground.

He’d caused a lot of waves with his initial entrance, and the anoobas dogging his footsteps hadn’t helped overmuch, but beroya’se rarely held grudges deeper than skin-deep, and thanks to the Jetii, he now had a good number of credits to make amends.

Because he’d mentioned as much to Organa, he did keep an absent eye out on her spouse’s bounty, and noted how the Naberrie one was all but dead in the water. A good number of the lower-level beroya’se were equally dead, too, taken out in that one afternoon.

Hardeen had sent him Reeft’s contract and the absolutely staggering sum listed. Ton-Toln, in particular, was happily slicing their way through the back-end encryption behind the Guild's contracts, but Sy had stepped up to help with the more...sensitive elements of slicing Republic accounts. Eval, on the other hand, was proving surprisingly difficult to track in the months after Reeft’s death, and there were a number of key, high-level beroya’se still missing.

He did eventually find the pack, and understood the reason for their absence the moment he felt the presence of a lone Temple Guard. As a group, their minds felt almost interchangeable, but there was only Guard who had cause to be down on these levels. They weren’t wearing the full regalia of those on-duty at the Temple, with ankle-length robes and elaborate markings on their cowl. Instead, they wore sturdy, knee-high boots and a brown hood over their thigh-length overrobe, mask firmly in place. [1]

They were on one knee while the pack whined for belly-rubs and rolled over for them, and Ben didn’t need Manda to see how absolutely gone for each other they were. Ah, haar’chak. He truly didn’t know if there was any good way out of this.

“Mandalorian,” they called out in greeting.

Ben raised a hand, and then snatched it out of the way when an anooba playfully leapt at him, jaws snapping shut on where his hand had been bare moments ago.

“They’re in a mood,” he said dryly.

The Guard snorted, beckoning, and that anooba trotted over to lick a wet stripe up the side of their mask.

“They want to play,” they said, “and I think we have you to blame for that, Mandalorian.”

“Oh?”

“They mentioned they had met another anooba, and you promised them more play-dates?”

Osik. He hadn’t counted on bringing this up with them, hadn’t even known how to broach the topic of Embo except for very, very carefully.

Ben nodded. “Marrok,” he said. “On that note, I haven’t once asked for their names. I hope both you and the pack can excuse the oversight.”

If Ben could see their face, he was certain they would be rolling their eyes at him. “The pack’s names are their own. They know each other, in the Force, and I won’t do them the disservice of butchering their names in my foreign tongue.”

Their stare was palpable, even through both layers of their buy’ce. “And Marrok’s companion?”

“A beroya- bounty hunter,” he clarified, “whose help I enlisted to find Reeft’s killer.”

The Guard continued to stare at him for a beat longer. When they turned away, it was only to gaze at the milling anoobas.

“They say Marrok is a good one.”

Ben let out a huff of a laughter as he tugged at a nearby ear.

“And to think you were all so cautious about playing together.”

The anooba flicked its ear out of his grasp, turning up its snout at him. Ben did laugh, then. The Guard scratched beneath its chin, thumping a heavy hand on its firm chest.

“And you really think one of their own would help you?”

Ben shrugged. “I’m offering him what he wants,” he said. “Embo loves Marrok as much as you love the pack. He even offered to take them off-planet - I think he’s looking to start up a farm.”

The Guard’s mind wavered with their hands buried wrist-deep in an anooba’s thick fur. “That’s-.” They turned to look at the anooba in front of them, who whined, pawing at their shin.

“They would do better for more space to run around,” they said weakly. “And the air’ll be better on almost any other planet.”

“Maybe,” he hedged, “but I think you’re underestimating your own importance to the pack. I’d take them in a heartbeat, too, you know,” he added, just to feel the Guard’s focus sharpen.

“But would they want to go without you?”

The anooba between them whined louder, dislodging the Guard’s hands on their back and rolling to bare their belly, mouth open and tongue lolling out.

“Stop that,” the Guard huffed, pushing half-heartedly at its jaw, but all the anooba did was squirm until it could lay its head in their lap. Ben could tell when the Guard gave in, their shoulders drooping as they gently stroked its snout.

“As much as I- as much as I-.” They couldn’t get the words out, sinking their shaking hands back into the anooba’s thick fur. “I can’t leave the Guard. I can’t leave the Order.”

“Can’t?” Ben asked. “Or won’t?”

“I-.” They inhaled sharply, leaning over the anooba’s prone form. “They’re my family.”

“And does family make you feel so conflicted?"

“Don’t you have family?” the Guard retorted.

“Aliit, elek,” he nodded. “But there is aliit, and then there is Clan.”

“What’s the difference?” the Guard asked cautiously. “Family is- you win some, you lose some, but they’re still your family at the end of the day, and you'll do anything for them."

“Aliit is about choice, about choosing, again and again and again,” he replied. “Ner buir’e- my parents- chose me during my Adoption, but I had to choose them back, too. Ner buir’e’s vod’e are not mine, and vice versa.”

He trusted Silas to have Jaster’s back, certainly, and he could feel how much the old Korun loved Wolffe. But their own relationship would always be coloured by his reaction to him on Melidaan. Similarly, Bo was his vod and his aliit were endeared to her and her chaos, certainly, but she was hardly aliit to them.

“But ad’e override everything, of course,” he said, thinking of Norrelia and Keld, who were undoubtedly Clan through Jaster, and how Khal and Ahlora Wren still loathed each other, but Niv’ika and So’ika were aliit. “Ad’e be cuun vencuyot: children are our future.”

“I understand that, I think,” the Guard said slowly. “The Temple and its inhabitants are under our protection, and Reeft was just one of many. An important one, of course, known to many of the Guard personally, but if the creche had been compromised…”

“He would have agreed,” he replied.

“But the creche wasn’t compromised,” the Guard rasped. “Reeft was.”

“Elek,” he agreed, feeling old and tired. “It helps that I can hate and that I do, and if there's any suffering involved, I'm going to be the one inflicting it."

The Guard snorted. “I don’t know how we’ll react when we find that traitor,” they confessed. “Considering what was done to Reeft, hate almost seems like the logical choice.”

“You have mir’baar’ur at the Temple, elek? Mind Healers,” he added, at the Guard’s inquisitive tick of the head. “Is therapy not a Jetii practice?”

“Therapy,” the Guard repeated blankly. “A Mandalorian is telling me, a Jedi, to go to therapy.”

“I attend therapy regularly,” Ben replied. “There is no shame in the process of healing.”

They clicked their tongue, their mind a mix of irritation and uncertainty. “I know that,” they muttered. “But there’s always so much to do, and there’s just never enough time-.”

“Then you make time,” he bit out. “I am Mando’ad, verd. I endanger not only myself when I take to the battlefield with an unsound mind. I help no one when I am unable to help myself. Worse than that, I am a hindrance.” He spread his hands. “I am suitably dangerous, between my blasters and my besbe’trayce. What happens when a jetii takes to the battlefield with an unsound mind?”

The Guard felt like they were curling in on themselves. “We don’t- we’re not soldiers.”

“Not all battlefields are fought with blasters and besbe’trayce; there are far too many ways to deal violence in this galaxy, and not all wounds bleed. Sometimes, not even the worst ones.”

“You’d know, wouldn’t you?” the Guard snapped, but their voice was thin and weak. The anooba they were clutching whined, stepping all over their feet. Ben didn’t bother rising to the bait, allowing their ire to slake off his back.

“We've moved pretty far from our original conversation.” The anooba lying between them raised its head as if it knew they were talking about it.

“I don’t know,” they muttered, digging their fingers into its thick fur. “I can’t think of leaving the Guard until this is settled.”

“Fair enough,” he replied, obligingly scratching beneath a presented chin, feeling the anooba’s chest rumble with satisfaction. “You could let your brethren know, if you’d like, that I’m now staying at the Bounty Hunters’ Guild.”

The Guard shook off their fugue. “…trouble in paradise?” they grated out. “Organa’s been flitting around the Rotunda with your helper droid on his shoulder.”

He’d suspected, but it was good to know Solaris was in good hands with Bail, despite everything. He’d have to figure out how to get the Shard back, even if the dha’kad’au was being a smug, possessive shebs about him.

“We had a misunderstanding,” he murmured. “He asked if I was mindtricking him.”

The Guard inhaled sharply. Ben tilted his buy’ce sardonically. “If I was to mindtrick someone, they’d never know. I'm not so much of an amateur as to leave tracks."

The Guard snorted, slinging an arm around an anooba’s shoulders when one strayed too close. “Of course that's what you'd be insulted by. You’re lucky I know you’re joking.”

“Who said I was?” he retorted, and he had a sneaking suspicion that the Guard was rolling their eyes at him beneath their mask.

“Still, though,” they said. “I wouldn’t have expected that of Organa. He’s run in with no few Jedi at the Senate.”

He shrugged. “But I’m no Jedi.”

He could feel the Guard’s gaze sharpen, but he ignored it, choosing to give the anoobas his attention instead. Finally, the Guard took the hint.

“What about that bounty hunter who’s helping you? Where’ve they got to?”

“I’ve only spoken to them recently,” Ben replied, “and haven’t heard back yet. But I’m looking for- well, the scene of the crime.”

The Guard started. “You think you could find it?”

“I don’t want to get your expectations up,” he said quietly. “I don’t want to get mine, for that matter. But there is a very good chance, and as long as there is one, I’m going to pursue it. I feel like once we do, it would answer a lot of questions we still have.”

The Guard breathed evenly. “The site of a Jedi’s death is- or any Force-Sensitive’s, for that matter-.”

“I know.”

Their head jerked up. “Do you?”

“I’ve been fortunate enough to not have experienced it in-person, but psychic echoes persist.”

They swallowed again. “This was violent. It likely wasn’t…quick.”

“When I find it, don’t send anyone with a talent for psychometry.” Thank Manda Quin was firmly ensconced on Melidaan, Rod and Rizzo would make Numa sit on him if it came down to it.

“I’ll let them know,” the Guard said faintly, and then pushed upright, scratching the anooba’s ears apologetically as it whined. “I should get going, back to the Temple.”

He blinked within his buy’ce. “Now that you mention it, I’m surprised you were able to leave. Narec mentioned something about the Temple being closed for the cleansing, and everyone on-planet had been recalled.”

“We’re Guards, not-.”

“You are still Jetii, ‘lek? Were you all not required to help with the cleansing?”

The Guard’s mask wouldn’t quite face him directly. “There are plenty of others who aren’t so involved in the cleansing,” they muttered, “the younglings, for one. It’s the Council and Masters who are leading the rites for the cleansing, and we’re almost done with it, anyway. Narec should be contacting you soon enough.”

“Narec will contact me when he needs to. You, on the other hand, are their protectors,” Ben said flatly. “I can’t imagine not wanting any of your number to be there- even just for peace of mind."

“The Jedi are not Mandalorian,” they retorted.

Ben didn’t rise to the bait this time, either, carding his fingers through a thick, bristling mane. “Naak,” he agreed. “I know which one I’d rather be.” He paused, and then tilted his head in consideration. “Do you?”

It had been…an interesting week, of almost comforting radio silence apart from his comms back home, despite the Guard’s words about the cleansing. His following conversations with Sy were hardly as fraught, and the ikaad’e were always a joy. Jaster was finally stepping back like how he’d been threatening to these last few years, now that Yan and Komari were going to stay with them full-time, and Jango was doing his best to live up to their people’s expectations.

It helped that they’d all known this was coming, but Jango could get frazzled over the simplest things, afraid of letting them (but Jaster especially) down.

“You shouldn’t be so harsh on yourself,” he told his ori’vod one evening. It was only mid-morning on ‘yaim, but Jango looked like he’d been in his office for hours already. “You wouldn’t be ner ori’vod, ad be’buir, if you were anyone else. I know what people say but you weren’t raised to be Mand’alor.”

“Maybe I would’ve done a better job if I was,” Jango muttered.

“Where's Myles?” Ben demanded crossly. “He owes you a smack or 5 from me. The role of Mand’alor doesn’t make you, Jango; you make the role of Mand’alor.”

Jango threw up his hands. “What’s up with everyone trying to smack me! Besides, that’s the same thing.”

“No, it isn’t, and you know it. Ner buir was hardly born into the role of Mand’alor. He made it his own, as you will, too.”

Jango sighed heavily, resting his head in his hands. “Why are you there instead of here?”

He smiled, small and pained. “You know why, ori’vod. Even if I would rather be home, with all ner aliit.” He paused. “Has there been any news from Ton-Toln regarding the accounts?”

Jango wrinkled his nose. “Isn’t Sifo-Dyas helping him? Why don’t you just ask him?”

Ben laughed. “Whenever we comm, I keep getting distracted by the ikaad’e, but can you blame me?”

Jango let out a sigh, but his lips were twitching and his eyes were soft, even through the holo. How he’d ever worried about being buir was strange to Ben, when his ori’vod was so soft, when he and Myles had been so good to him.

“Moralo Eval,” he muttered while shaking his head, “that shabuuir. Never thought he’d be able to crawl out of prison.”

Ben smiled thinly. “Someone wanted his…talents bad enough.”

Jango’s eyebrows slanted downwards. “Nu kyr’adyc, shi taab’echaaj’la.”

“I take what peace I can from that. It’s not a lot,” he admitted. “I want justice, I want revenge, I want to tear their precious Tsad Droten around their ears.”

Jango snorted. “If you do, you get to break that news to buir.”

“He’d retire tomorrow and drop the whole mess into your lap.”

“Which I’d pitch at you,” Jango retorted.

Ben grimaced. “Then I suppose the Secession is a good thing for a reason.”

Jango rolled his eyes. “Yeah, we only have to deal with the entire karking Outer Rim.”

“At least they’re mostly self-sustaining,” he pointed out. “Those accounts, though? Rather relevant, since I leveraged on Eval’s payout for Embo’s assistance.”

Jango raised his eyebrows, unimpressed.

“I was hardly going to give him all of it!” he protested.

“You can talk to Khal’buir next time and watch their disappointment manifest in-person.”

“Ori’vod,” he whined.

“Sifo-Dyas should be there, too,” Jango added. “The 2 of them can give you those sad buir eyes. Your soul will curdle.”

“They’re getting along?” Ben wasn’t certain how he felt about that.

On the one hand, aliit. Sy was at the very least under Clan protection, and they were raising warriors together. But on the other hand, if all they were going to do was gang up on him and be terrible influences to ner ikaad’e-.

“He’s not awful,” Jango admitted, “as Jetii go.”

Ben laughed. “Rarely has there been more damning praise.”

“About those accounts, they haven’t found Eval’s yet, but they have managed to uncover Palpatine’s. Or rather, the ones he was maintaining as Dar’jetii.”

He frowned. “We’re draining them and putting those funds to better use, aren’t we?”

Jango scoffed. “What do you think we are, amateurs? Although we’re going to have to figure out what to do with Republic credits. Maybe I’ll throw it at your vod, Vos, get him out of his head.”

“Is Quin alright?” Ben exclaimed. “I thought Rod and Rizzo were keeping him occupied with Numa and his new ad-.”

“Udesii, ad’ika,” Jango coaxed, “he’s- in need of those mirjahaal’tsad sessions, he and his ba’ji both, but Ronei is sitting on them, and they are otherwise in good health.”

He let out a heavy sigh. “I guess I’m still a bit touchy where the Younglings are concerned.”

Jango’s face softened. “I don’t blame you, but you might want to think about getting in a session or 2 of your own.”

His immediate reflex was to point out his lack of privacy and time- but that really would make him the worst sort of hypocrite, considering what he’d just said to the Temple Guard.

“I’ll try to make time,” he offered.

Jango raised his eyebrows. “I’ll hold you to that.”

“How are the twins?”

It wasn’t quite a deflection, but he knew it was the right question to ask when Jango’s face gentled. “They are,” he replied. “They’re inseparable from Myles.”

Ben laughed. “Well, they are your clones.”

“That’s hardly genetic!” Jango protested, but he was laughing, too. Jate. If he could joke about the ikaad’e’s origins, that meant that he wasn’t so hung up on their existence anymore.

“They are…a relief,” Jango continued. “They bring laughter and joy wherever they go, and Myl’ika has been teaching them to weaponise their cuteness.”

Ben laughed again. “I don’t think they needed much help, there!”

“No,” Jango agreed, openly amused, “not my twins or your Rex. Cody and Wolffe could use some work, though.”

“I don’t know what you mean,” he huffed. “Ner Kot’ika is plenty adorable.”

Jango snorted, rolling his eyes. “Spoken like a true buir.”

Ben raised his eyebrows. “Spoken like a Z-6 accusing a TAU-6-23 of overkill.”

Jango flushed, glancing away. “I’m not…like that. You wanna talk to Myles for that.”

“I think you’re just as bad as each other,” he replied.

Jango growled. “You really ought to be back here so I can whoop your shebs on a practice mat.”

Ben snickered. “Promises, promises, ori’vod. You’ll have to make good on them once I’m home. That is, if you’re not old to do so.”

“Old-!” The rest of Jango’s words dissolved into outraged sputters. “I’ll show you old!”

He smiled brightly at his ori’vod, who looked to be in much better spirits now. “I can’t wait. Till then-.”

“K’oyacyi, ad’ika,” Jango murmured. “Come back to us.”

“Oya Mand’alor,” he pledged, fist over his heart, even if the transition wasn’t official yet. It was worth it to see the faint flush on Jango’s cheeks. “I won’t stop trying.”

When he stepped into the diner, a hush fell. That effect had been amusing the first time; now he was just exasperated.

“Hiya, hon.”

FLO rolled to a stop in front of him, both of them ignoring the disbelieving sputtering around them. A Zeltron spat out half their burger on the poor Devaronian sitting across for them.

“He’s waitin’ for ya in the back room,” she chirped, chucking the chin of his buy’ce before wheeling off again, cackling to herself.

He followed her directions, rolling his eyes at the way other patrons ducked their heads or huddled into their seats when he passed them.

He didn’t have to wait long - there was hardly any warning at all before he was swept up in a hug strong enough for the warning signs to activate in his buy’ce. He laughed, hugging back as much as he was able to.

“It’s good to see you too, Dex. Give me a moment, let me take off my buy’ce.”

The beskalisk carefully set him back on his feet, although he left his upper 2 hands on Ben’s shoulders.

“Oh, lookit you,” Dex murmured once he got his buy’ce off, large hand gentle on the side of his face. “Can’t believe how much you’ve grown.” That hand tilted his face to and fro, all the better to see him with. The dha’kad’au was bristling at what it saw as presumptuousness, but Ben coaxed it back to peace; there were hardly safer hands to be in, particularly on Coruscanta.

“It’s not fair that rapscallion Weequay gets to see you so much more,” Dex muttered. “I hope you make him pay.”

Ben beamed. “Through the nose,” he replied. “He hasn’t won a single hand since you introduced us.”

Dex settled back with a smug smile on his lips, hands lightly brushing his pauldrons, dusting off imaginary lint.

“Lookit how much you’ve grown,” he hummed.

“It has been years,” Ben said, almost apologetically. They hadn’t had time to sit down the last time he’d come by the Diner, Bant having arrived far too promptly with a chastised Fisto in tow. “You’re always welcome for a visit, even if I know you won’t leave Coruscanta.”

“Not yet,” Dex agreed. “I’m glad you made it back at least once - although I wish it could've been for something other than this.”

Ben just breathed through the surging bitterness. Eventually, he rasped out, “I wish, too, but wishes aren't fishes."

Dex just nodded, knowing better than to press. “Mereel did good by you, then.”

He could smile, then. “And his aliit, his family. They’re mine now, too.”

Dex reached out to touch the corner of it. “You never used to smiled like this when talking about adults.”

Ben faltered. Surely, he’d- respected Tahl and Tholme and Yoda, certainly, and he’d once wanted Jinn to give him the time of day more than anything in the galaxy.

“You smiled and laughed when we kept it between us, kept it between your sprogs, and obviously, in hindsight, not when Jinn was around.”

“I smiled with you,” Ben said without thinking.

His memory was fallible; he was almost Human, after all. Maybe there had been warmth at the Temple outside of Tholme’s apologetic smiles, Tahl stepping in between him and Jinn. He’d had a Crechemaster, hadn’t he? Same as the other Younglings. He couldn’t remember their face, just their tired voice as they asked him to stop bothering Bruck Chun.

Ben hadn’t spoken about the Temple with Ronei or even Khal, not that they’d pressed, too focused on dealing with the after-effects of Melidaan and killing Pre, and Yan had been warned to keep from pressing. He hadn’t wanted to think about those times, either, let alone speak of them. With effort, he shook off those evanescent memories. They weren’t ones he cared to recover.

Dex clicked his tongue. “You always were a sweet-talker.”

Ben snorted. “I think that’s FLO. When she called me ‘honey’- I know the Zeltron didn't mean it, but still! That poor Devaronian. I hope they weren't on a date."

Dex laughed, and he relaxed into the sound.

“I’m glad you’re doing well, Dex,” he said with all the sincerity he could muster. “I- never thanked you did I? Between you and Hondo- you taught me enough to stay alive until I met buir- although if you ever mention any of this to Hondo, I’ll deny it with every last breath.”

Dex huffed. “That don’t need no thanks,” he said gruffly, his heavy shoulders shifting restlessly. “How much does Mereel know?”

Ben offered him a lopsided smile. “That we know each other. That Hondo and I know each other, although Jango hates one of those things a lot more than the other.”

Dex laughed. “Hondo has his moments.”

Ben exaggeratedly rolled his eyes. “As a distraction, maybe. Or when you need a backer for a systems-wide Sabacc tournament.”

“The way he tells it, you just about jumped at the chance to join him.”

“I did not!” he squawked. “How much do you talk and what exactly is that git telling you?”

“It’s entertaining is what it is,” Dex returned, smiling broadly. “I hear from one a lot more than the other."

Ben winced. “Ni ceta, Dex. Reception’s the worst out on the Rim,” he said, but it was a weak excuse and he knew it. After leaving Melidaan, he’d lived his life doing his damnedest not to look back or examine his past as Jetii. It just happened that everything else on Coruscanta had fallen by the wayside, people included. The Younglings had forced their way back in, starting with Quinlan having snuck into the Melidaanian system - although if he really thought about it logically, there was no way Quin could have orchestrated anything like that as a teenager. Dex hadn't been so lucky, tied to Coruscanta as he was by his diner.

“I wasn’t looking to point fingers,” he said kindly, “even if I have fingers to point in excess.”

Ben let out a half-hearted snort. The beskalisk nudged him. “You can do better than that.”

“Ha-ha, you’re hilarious, Dex,” he said loudly.

Dex snickered, reaching out to carefully pat his braids. “Knew you’d see it my way.”

He huffed. “Sometimes, I wonder about how you and Hondo can get along. Other times, you make it so obvious.”

“Have to say, after once or twice, a man starts to rub off on you,” Dex said, smirking.

Ben opened his mouth, closed it, opened it, and then closed it again. The look in Dex’s eyes was practically daring him to ask.

“A- a man?” Ben repeated, coughing.

“Or a Weequay,” Dex said, that smirk widening into a grin. “You know, ‘male’ don’t quite roll of the tongue so easy, unlike some other thi-.”

“Okay!” Ben squeaked, clapping his hands over his ears. “If you keep talking, I’m going to have to start singing, and no one wants that except ner ikaad’e.”

Dex smirked one last time before relenting, merciful in his triumph.

“So, children, huh?” he said, giving him an out.

Ben brightened. “I have holos!”

The next few minutes were thankfully less fraught, Dex more than willing to entertain his gushing.

“I remember when you were a sprog and now you’re a parent!” Dex exclaimed.

“Sy’s really the one who’s been holding down the fort for me back home,” he admitted. “He and ner ikaad’e have been incredibly patient with me. And while Reeft deserves justice, I want to go home to them, too, and truly be buir be ner ikaad’e. Love alone doesn’t make you jate buir.”

Dex didn’t say anything for a long moment, just watched him with a soft look in his eye.

“What?” he asked, fingers twitching.

Dex just shook his head, smiling faintly to himself. “Nothing, it’s just- I got reminded of how fast time’s gone. You ain’t just a good parent, kid, you’re a good person.”

Ben could feel his cheeks heat up. “Dex-!”

One large hand landed on his face, making him sputter. “Take the compliment, kid. Besides, I still got one last piece of news for you. Word on the street is, your ol’ pal, Organa, is sniffing around asking questions he shouldn’t.”

He stilled, and thankfully Dex let him move his hand off his face. “Who’d take his contract after the Jedi killed everyone after him the last time?”

Dex raised his eye ridges. “I’m surprised you haven’t heard: it weren’t no Jedi. They think it was a rogue Force-user, especially since they showed up with the Darksaber.”

“Osik,” Ben mumbled, “people know that?”

“That was you trying to be subtle?” Dex barked out a laugh.

“Not exactly,” he muttered, “I was just saving the di’kut’s life.”

“You could’ve saved his life with a blaster, like a normal Mandalorian.”

“Maybe I should've thought that one through better. I was dressed as Jetii and wanted to leverage on that connexion to gain his trust,” he grumbled, “although fat lot of good that did.”

“Why?”

“He asked me if I’d mindtricked him.”

Dex let out a low whistle. “You gotta admit, that takes balls.”

“Thankfully for me, Bail’s testicles are none of my concern.”

“Anyway, his contract is picking up traction again. Naberrie’s is dead in the water, while the bounty on Organa’s been rising with suspicious timing, which means-.”

“Which means it’s rather likely the same person who wants them both dead,” he murmured. He'd been certain Naberrie's contract had been arranged by Palpatine, but the Dar'jetii obviously couldn't have arranged for Bail's contract. Ben had his suspicions, of course, but what they really needed was proof, and enough of it that it would stand in a court of law. If Ton-Toln and his team could find it-.

He shook his head to clear his thoughts. “I’ll figure something out; I appreciate the intel, Dex.”

“Get on outta here,” the beskalisk chuffed, giving him a gentle shove. “I can practically see them gears turning in your head.”

Ben laughed but didn’t protest. Dex stood and opened all 4 of his arms. Ben stepped forward without hesitation, letting his old friend wrap him up with inhuman strength.

“Vor’e, Dex. I know you said I didn’t have to- but I do. Vor’e, for everything.”

The arms around him tightened reflexively, and Ben couldn’t breath - but it was only for a moment. He tried to look up, but found Dex’s hand in his face instead.

“Get on outta here,” he grumbled again, “no one needs to see an old beskalisk blush.”

Ben practically skipped back to the Bounty Hunters Guild, grinning to himself under his buy’ce. At the reception, Sachi glanced up at his step, an almost guilty look on her face - but the reason for that became immediately clear when a lofty tail wagged out a greeting.

"There you are," he chuckled, even as Sachi’s shoulders sagged in relief.

“They're pretty good at sneaking,” she said, “but I worry, y’know?”

"Honestly, I think anyone who tries to complain has more to worry about than you." A thought occurred to him. “Sachi, do you have a minute after your shift?”

She looked startled. “What's it?”

“I need to get a message to a Senator, but I need a messenger they wouldn't expect from me.”

“You want me to go to the Senate Building?” She looked down at herself, as if her appearance had suddenly changed. “They won’t even let me through the door.”

“They’re only mildly classist. And speciesist. And sexist.”

Shockingly, Sachi didn’t look convinced, her hands tightening in the anooba’s fur. “Who- who’s the Senator?”

He relaxed. “Bail Organa, of Alderaan.”

Sachi raised her eyebrows. “The one with that bounty?”

He laughed. “Of course that’s what you know about him.”

“I’m not- helping you get the contract or anything,” she insisted. “I’m not a hunter.”

Beneath his buy’ce, he smiled. “I know,” he replied. “It’s just a message, honest.”

Sachi exhaled heavily, looking down at the anooba as she softly rubbed its cheeks. “What do you think?”

It huffed, pushing its nose into her belly. She giggled, gently ruffling its crest.

“Okay,” she replied. “I’ll do it.”

“Vor entye, Sachi,” he said. “I really appreciate it. Here, if it would help.”

She stared at the credit chip he set on the reception desk. “That’s too much.”

“It's only fair, if you need to get anything that would make you feel more comfortable approaching the Senate Building,” he said firmly. Hopefully, it would be enough to cover a good few meals for her, too. “You’re doing me a favour, remember?”

Hesitantly, she pocketed the chip. “You the strangest Mandalorian I ever met."

"You've only met 2," he pointed out, glancing up from where he was scrawling out a message to Bail.

"You're certainly stranger than Hardeen. Him, I know what to expect. You, I can't even begin to guess."

Ben chuckled. "I'm hardly that complicated." He folded the scrap of flimsi in half and wrote Bail’s name on the front. “Here you go, Sachi. Vor’e, again.”

She offered him a small smile. “You’re welcome.” She looked down at the anooba. “And- you’ll be waiting when I get back, won’t you?”

Ben laughed, snatching teasingly at its wagging tail. “They do tend to go off on their own, but let’s see if I can convince the whole pack to be waiting for you when you’re back.”

Sachi’s smile turned genuine. “I think that’s a better bribe than the credits.”

Chapter Text

He finally received that comm from Narec at the end of the week. It was…strange, for a Guard at their guardhouse to simply wave him past, but maybe he could understand, given how buoyant Manda on Coruscanta now felt. That had mostly been the Dar’jetii working, of course, not that the Jetii had made it difficult for him, having left their nexus to rot for a millennia.

He’d known the moment the cleansing had taken - he’d suspected every Manda-touched in the Core might have, too, and when he’d commed home, Sy had worn a similarly stunned expression.

Narec was waiting for him in the square, beaming openly at the sight of him.

“Adika!” he exclaimed, bowing low. “It’s such a pleasure to see you again. Thank you for your patience.” He straightened, eyes falling to his empty shoulder. “Will Solaris not be joining us today?”

“It’s preoccupied, I’m afraid,” he replied, and Narec accepted his words at face value, inviting him to head up the stairs. The Guards here barely twitched, either.

It really was rather novel. He didn’t they could be considered friendly, but that he was no longer considered a threat to the Jetii was- yet something else to discuss with Przekiel. The list was only growing.

“Please help us extend our thanks for its help,” Narec said, bowing again. “I- probably don’t need to ask, but you can feel the difference in the Force, can’t you?”

“Yes,” he agreed, “it’s quite a change.”

The man was practically bouncing in place. “Oh, yes,” he agreed. “Actually, we had to extend the cleansing rites to hold them over several days - once we were made aware of the situation, it became clear just how much Darkness had seeped into the nexus over the years, and if we tried for one large cleanse, it was suspected that the backlash might have knocked out every Force-sensitive on the planet.”

“I, for one, am grateful that you chose otherwise,” Ben said dryly.

Narec let out a nervous giggle. “Well, I thought it best for you to know just why exactly your consultation has been delayed for such a long while.”

He nodded. “I appreciate your consideration, Narec. I hope there weren’t any other unexpected surprises?”

“Thankfully, no,” Narec replied. “There are quite a few Jedi kicking ourselves for such an oversight- however, the Council has also discovered that it hadn’t actually been millennia since the nexus had been cleaned. If that had truly been the case, the nexus would have been far Darker.”

Ben raised his eyebrows. “I can’t imagine how it would have felt if it was even more out of balance.”

The man sighed. “Fortunately, none of us will. Why there are no records of past cleansings is problematic- we had to research which rites were the relevant ones, and even then, the ones we chose this time around were based on our time constraints. I imagine Archivist Nu will continue to oversee the refinement- oh, listen to me go on again,” Narec huffed, colour rising to his cheeks.

“I never said I minded," he said. "It's no chore playing soundboard for you."

Narec sent him a small smile. “Thank you, Adika. You are entirely too easy to talk to. Moving forward, the Council will be adding new failsafes into place to ensure that a cleansing will conducted on a regular basis from now on.”

“It sounds like you didn’t really need me to come back, then,” he said.

“You were the one who pointed us in the right direction, and I thought you might be pleased to see your handiwork in person,” Narec replied, smiling warmly. “Archivist Nu and I would also both like to see if you could make it down to the actual nexus this time, in the event there may be any other elements we might have missed - we have all been appraised of needing an external opinion from time to time. Don't quote me on this," he added guiltily, "but homogeneity rather does breed complacency. This was a costly lesson, but I must believe that we will learn from and be better for it.”

He smiled faintly. “Your hopefulness for the future does you credit, Narec. I'll do my best."

The man smiled back. “Some of the Council members will be accompanying us…”

Narec was continuing to speak, but Ben wasn’t listening, instead focusing on continuing to breathe. The dha’kad’au was practically vibrating where it sat in his front pocket, soaking in its bottle of weapons oil. The fear threatened to constrict his lungs - but he had quite a bit of experience with working through fear. He wasn't certain what he was projecting into Manda, but it made Narec stop and do a double-take.

“Oh, Adika, there’s no need to worry,” he said, concern lining his face. “The Council would simply like to hear your account of the nexus firsthand.”

“...I don’t have good experiences with councils,” Ben managed to get out.

“Oh,” Narec said, his expression falling. “I can convey to them that you would prefer to deliver your input secondhand.”

Ben scoffed. “Is your council likely to accept that? That’s quite a different type of council.”

Narec pulled a face. “They might not take it well, per se, but we don’t actively wish to put you on the spot, Adika.”

“At the end of the day,” he said, “you are my clients and I am your consultant. It’s not like I can refuse.”

“Adika, no,” Narec protested. “Your assent is important to us.”

Ben kept on breathing, taking comfort in the dha’kad’au’s protective curl around his mind. Nothing to look at here, nothing at all. He let his presence scatter and dissipate into Manda.

Narec started forward, his hand extended towards him. His eyes had gone wide with alarm. “Adika? You’re- you’re here.”

“Yes?”

The man shook his head, running that same hand through his thinning hair. “It’s- I’m sorry, my eyes are telling me one thing but the Force another. It’s like you vanished- have vanished.”

So his technique was working. Yan and Komari had told him as much, but it was always good to get confirmation. He had to remember that he had a working brain and to use it.

Ben inhaled deeply, and then exhaled. Logically speaking, it wasn’t that much of a surprise for the Council to get involved. Come to think of it, it had been a little surprise that he hadn't been called in front of them to justify himself before the cleansing had taken place. Maybe they had decided time had been of the essence.

“I’m getting a handle on my feelings,” he said. “Like my- brother, I’m a professional.”

Narec seemed to take his words as a peace offering. “Is he a farmer too?”

He smiled. “My brother-in-law’s family rears orbaks.”

Narec chuckled. “Is that why you asked Knight Koon about animal husbandry?”

Ben raised his eyebrows. He hadn’t thought the man would remember his offhand comment to the Kel Dor all that while ago.

“I’d be more than happy to speak with her again,” he simply replied.

Narec’s smile widened. “I’m sure she’d enjoy speaking with you, too.”

They’d reached the Archives by then and, as expected, Nu was waiting at the entrance, looking stern and disaffected. With her were- Ben made sure to breathe in and out, his fingers brushing over where the dha’kad’au lay in its bottle of weapons oil.

Yoda looked as wizened and unchanged as ever. Beside him was tan-skinned, long-haired male Zabrak wearing a mild expression, and a male alien with the white-bearded face of a wookie and the body of a serpent. Ben had never seen anyone like him before.

Thisspiasian.

He blinked at the thought that appeared in his mind. If left to his own devices, he would definitely have misspelt that, and sent a trickle of gratefulness down his bond with the dha’kad’au.

Narec stepped forward, bowing. Ben nodded in greeting, not bothering to hide his caution. Nu seemed amused, of all things.

“Councillors, may I present our consultant, Adika? Adika, these are Councillors Yoda, Eeth Koth, and Oppo Rancisis. And I believe you remember Archivist Nu.”

He nodded at her. “Are you also a Councillor?”

Her mouth thinned. “Unfortunately.”

“Councillor, I am not,” Yoda croaked, with a sharp rap of his stick on Narec’s shins, making him wince. “Merely Master, am I.”

“Jedi Yoda, then,” Ben said.

Yoda looked him full in the face, ears twitching, without a single hint of recognition. It was simultaneously the most terrifying and anticlimatic moment of his young life. Honestly, he would have thought if anyone could have pinged him, it would have been Yoda.

“Or Teacher, am I,” the old jetii harrumphed.

Ben simply nodded his understanding.

“Which Force practice do you follow, if I may ask?” The question came from Koth, whose voice was as mild as his appearance.

“I’m not religious,” he replied. “Like I told Narec and Archivist Nu, I’m just sensitive.”

Rancisis looked down his nose at him, which was curious, given how he had to look up to do so. “And what is your Midichlorian count, if you are truly sensitive? Your presence in the Force feels weak and faded.”

“I’ve never cared to measure it before and I won’t care to do it now,” he returned. “If you had a problem with my sensitivity, that ought to have been discussed before I was brought on as a consultant, or even before you cleansed the nexus on my suggestion.”

“Is your diagnostic droid not joining us today?” Nu asked before Rancisis could continue.

“No, Solaris is occupied today.”

“If you require a droid to do your job properly, then it should be present,” Rancisis insisted.

“The contract was not for Solaris’s services, but mine alone,” he returned. “Its previous presence in your Temple was happenstance, is all. I’m not in the habit of demanding other beings to do my bidding.”

“That’s not what Master Rancisis meant,” Koth intervened. “He was merely concerned that your consultation might prove more precise with all the appropriate, um, tools present.”

Ben bit back his instinctive snap. When he’d somewhat managed to leash his temper, he spoke again.

“Believe what you wish of me. Isn’t that why you’re here, to judge me for yourself?” Yoda’s wrinkles deepened, while Koth seemed to be fighting a wince. “I’m hardly ashamed of being an agnostic farmer; I can't be more than what I am. No matter what your Force senses are telling you, you should at least try your other senses first before jumping to conclusions. I’m hoping those are working well, for your own sake.”

“How dare-!”

“Besides,” Ben interrupted, “I was told that I wasn’t the first one who had their suspicions on the condition of your nexus, just the most insistent that something had to be done. Think of your children, who were mired in murk for years. Maybe if you’d listened to what the others had to say earlier, without priding yourself on your superiority, this whole matter would’ve been settled a lot sooner.”

“And on that note, I do believe we should proceed to the nexus,” Narec swiftly interjected. “Archivist Nu, could you lead the way?”

Ben wasn’t altogether comfortable at leaving- they might not have been outright hostiles, but they certainly weren’t friendlies, either- the Councillors at his back, but he didn’t want to spend the entire journey down to the nexus glaring at the backs of their heads, either. He stepped after Nu, forcing Narec to follow him or be left behind with the Councillors.

“Narec was telling me that you staggered the cleansing over a matter of days,” he commented to Nu.

“Yes,” she replied, her voice dry as dust. “Once we realised there were no records of the nexus having been cleansed at all, despite the fact that it must have been - we decided to err on the side of caution.”

Narec hadn’t said it in so many words, but Nu was also being awfully blasé about this intelligence breach.

“Could the records have become lost or corrupted over time?” he asked, only for Narec to pre-emptively flinch.

Still, Ben wasn’t prepared for Nu to whirl about and jab a finger in his chest. “Such corruption does not occur to properly archived records.”

“Archivist Nu is very competent and dedicated in her work,” Eeth piped up from behind him.

“The Jedi Archive is one of the most complete historical archives in the galaxy,” she snapped.

Were they really going to make him say it? “So if the records weren’t corrupted or lost, and you’re certain prior cleansings did happen - then where are those records?”

Nu turned on her heel and stalked forward. “I’m still searching,” she said shortly.

Ben glanced about him at the Jetii. Seriously?

“Do you suspect that the records were removed or destroyed?”

Nu immediately drew to a halt, but surprisingly, the question had come from Rancisis.

“Why would you think that?” she demanded.

“Is it so unbelievable that someone might have wanted such a situation to happen?” Ben asked.

“Who?” Koth asked blankly. “And for what purpose?”

Ben shrugged. “I don’t know, why don’t you find out? Who would have access to those types of records, administrative access in particular? Who would have motive? What is the worst possible scenario that could occur if no one ever realised the records were missing? I mean, you know your circumstances far better than I do, so you’re the ones who’d be in the best position to come up with those answers.”

“Farmer, you are?” Yoda croaked, tapping his gimmer stick on the ground.

“The thought process is no different than assessing a bad crop. What are the current factors that affect my yield? How did they differ from my past yields? Which factors have comparable circumstances? Which factors are within my control? What is the best possible yield I can produce given the poorest environmental conditions?" He shrugged again. “It’s standard critical thinking and problem-solving skills.”

Koth smiled. “But applied in quite an unexpected manner.”

“Really?” he asked sceptically. “Narec was kind enough to introduce me to one of your Knights the other day, Sha Koon. Wonderful head on her shoulders, that one, really knows her crops.”

Koth’s eyes crinkled at the corners. “I’ll be certain to convey your compliments.”

“...sure,” he said, because it certainly seemed like they’d change the topic completely and then swept it under the rug. Well, he’d done his due dilligence by pointing out their oversight. What they did with it was up to them (and the Guard, if that trail would lead to where he suspected it would).

“How are you, Adika?”

He glanced at Narec. “Well?”

The man smiled. “I’m glad. You’ve just gone further into the Archives than you ever previously have."

Ben raised his eyebrows, glancing back at the nondescript patch of wall he’d all but collapsed against before.

“No headaches, no difficult breathing, no choking sensations?” Narec pressed.

“None at all,” he replied truthfully. “It’s a bit stale, but you can’t win everything.”

Even Yoda let out a cackle at that.

There was a force in the air that weighed heavier on him as Nu led them those last few steps towards the nexus proper, and Ben had to pause for a moment at the threshold, hand on the wall for balance.

“Adika?” Narec demanded urgently.

He rubbed at his chest with his other hand, reminding himself to breathe. “It’s just…a lot,” he murmured, eyes fixed on the heart of the Temple. It didn’t look like much in particular but in Manda, it felt like staring straight into a supernova. He felt a moment of regret that Solaris wasn’t with him this time, but maybe he could share this memory with it when they next met.

“How feel, do you?” Yoda asked, announcing his approach with the tapping of his gimmer stick.

Ben continued to rub at his chest as he thought aloud.

“It’s so overwhelming,” he murmured. “There’s so much of it, and here at the core, you can see how precarious the balance is.”

He had to close his eyes at that, doing his best to shake off the after-images of his visions in his head. If his shields weren’t beskar-tight- if Yan hadn’t been feeding him Sy’s tips for managing his visions for years- if the dha’kad’au wasn’t a stubborn mir’sheb with an unrelenting grip on his mind- he might have been caught in its ebb and flow, an unwitting spectator for the rest of his mortal life.

He chanced a glance at the Jetii. “What do you See?”

“A guiding light,” Narec and Koth said, one after another, startling each other into offering up timid, surprised smiles. Absently, Ben wondered if Narec and Koth had ever met before this.

Rancisis was watching the nexus with a grave expression. “It isn’t full of Life like the Room of a Thousand Fountains, but there is a richness to the Force here.”

“Thousand fountains,” Ben muttered, shaking his head. “I know you mentioned it before,” he said to Narec, “but I still can’t believe it isn’t hyperbole.”

“Thousand is an estimate,” Narec said kindly.

“And they all work? All that water?”

Koth had raised his hand to hide his smile. “The water is filtered and recycled from our rain catchment areas.”

Ben shook his head. “Loopy as lepis, all of you.”

“Do you live on a desert planet?”

He thought of Manda’yaim’s deserts and the life that had persisted and was beginning to return, now that the wars were over. Of the bombed out ruins of cities on Melidaan and the overgrown greenery that had flourished as the Human population had depleted.

“We’re terraforming,” he replied, and then redirected the conversation back to the nexus. “Can you feel where the traces lingered the most?” he asked, pointing. “For those impressions to linger even after multiple rounds of cleansing is-.”

Nu marched forward, a frown on her face. “This path leads into the catacombs.”

“Do they lead somewhere?”

“To the Senate Building they go,” Yoda replied, thumping his stick on the ground.

“Do you think whoever spread this Darkness fled from the Temple to the Senate?” Rancisis asked, incredulous.

“The catacombs were constructed a millennia ago - when the Jedi Temple was rebuilt and the Senate Building built after the Great Sith War,” Narec rasped.

Rancisis's whiskers were twitching. "What are you trying to say, Narec? That this plot goes back all those years?"

"We have no records of cleansing the nexus since that time, either," Nu said tightly. "I'm looking- I will continue to look- but the timeline matches."

“What if it was the other way?" Narec asked. "What if- what if whoever did this came from the Senate, instead?”

Nu turned her frown his way. “The investigation you were involved in- the results were inconclusive, weren’t they?”

“The results, yes, but the effects were quite real,” Narec replied with a brittle smile, one hand resting at the base of his throat.

Koth looked aghast. "A working of this power would have been- a proper undertaking by an organised group through all these years. Who could have done something like this, and why did we never notice it?"

“Discuss this internally, we will,” Yoda declared.

That was absolutely fine with Ben; the Jetii could do their own legwork. It would be interesting to see how far they’d get before it all spilt out.

“Did your cleansings give you any clue as to what caused your collapse?” he asked.

Koth sighed. “Something unfathomably Dark was wrought here. However, the original working was already gone by the time we began the cleansing rites. Logically, the backlash of it breaking might have caused our collapse. However, this is also pure speculation as we simply don't have enough proof in any way. This also raises more questions: who broke this working? Are they the same party who wrought it? If so, then why- if not, also why? Just how many players are there involved, and why did none of us realise this until it was all over?”

Rancisis’s tail was twisting with agitation as Koth spoke.

“I think that’s…part of the stuff you probably want to discuss internally,” Ben hedged.

“Oh, of course,” Koth said, chuckling weakly. “Masters, do you have any additional questions for Consultant Adika?”

“Not at the moment,” Rancisis said, “but I expect Master Narec knows how to reach you if we do?”

Ben shrugged. “He has my comm ID, and I’ll be on Coruscant for a little while yet.”

Narec offered him a smile. “I do,” he said. “I would like to discuss the previous Senate investigation with the Temple Guard." 

“I think I’ll accompany you,” Koth said. “Master Rancisis? Master Yoda?”

“Return to the Council we shall,” Yoda replied. “Much to discuss we have.”

Nu herded them all back up to the Archives and practically bustled the others out in front of her. Ben almost though he’d made a clean getaway when she said, “Adika? A word, if you please.”

As a matter of fact, Ben did not please. Narec looked torn between them and Koth, but the woman waved him off imperiously.

“You have your task,” she ordered.

“Come along, Master Narec,” Koth said gently.

“Yes, Councillor Koth,” the man sighed.

“Oh,” he heard Koth’s soft voice as the 2 headed off, “I’m sorry, Teacher Narec…”

Rancisis and Yoda left with rather less fanfare, with twin solemn nods. Ben didn't dare to watch Yoda go.

And then it was just Nu and him.

“Follow me,” she ordered, marching off into the Archives. She wasn’t heading downward again, just off to the side into one of the many meeting rooms overlooking the myriad of shelves.

He raised his eyebrows at her when she closed the door behind them and activating the privacy setting. “Archivist Nu?”

“What has Narec told you about me?”

That wasn’t what he’d expected her to say. “That you know your Archives well? That you’re dedicated to your records?”

“Yes,” she agreed. “I know this Temple, or thought I did, before this infraction was discovered. I thought I knew my brethren, too.” Nu reached out then, her mind projecting regret and melancholy into Manda. The dha’kad’au was on high alert, but it wasn’t alarmed; her hand dropped before it could reach him.

“I have yet to forget a face that has traversed these walls.” He straightened. “I have not forgotten yours, Obi-Wan.”

Perhaps if Tahl hadn’t approached him previously, he might have been more alarmed. As it was, Ben only took a few moments to wrangle his composure and temper the adrenaline flooding his veins.

“I barely even came to the Archives.”

Nu’s mouth twisted, but with amusement. “Trust me, I remember you. Or rather, you and your partner-in-crime, Quinlan Vos. I suppose I have him to blame for this deceit?”

“No,” he replied firmly, “he doesn’t even know I’m here. I haven’t spoken to him in…” He shook his head, choosing to trail off instead of quantifying a length of time.

“Why are you really here, Obi-Wan?” she asked. “I know it’s not to help us sort out the issue of the nexus, even if your contribution has been invaluable.”

“I go by ‘Adika’ now.”

Nu simply nodded, easily accepting. Her candour was…surprising, given how acerbic she’d been up to this point. “Adika, then. My question still stands.”

“You’re right, I didn’t come here for the Order. But I did come here for the Jedi. For one Jedi, in particular.”

Her gaze sharpened, and he could practically see the calculations whirring in her brain. “Reeft.”

Ben said nothing while the dha’kad’au pressed against his mind, like a predator lying in wait.

“I suppose I oughtn’t be surprised,” she murmured, more to herself than him. “His death was- and that it still remains unsolved is our shame. He was working on something, but we haven’t been able to piece together what it was and how it’s connected to his death. Archivists know it’s always the quiet ones.” Then she looked up, her gaze no less sharp. “What do you need?”

Ben let out the breath he hadn’t even realised he was holding. “Not going to turn me in?”

“You’re hardly doing anything illegal,” she said archly. “Reeft’s death was felt by us all, you know. You would find no shortage of allies if you just openly declared your intent.”

“Really?” he scoffed. “Just how far has your investigation gotten?”

Her thin mouth thinned even further in lieu of a reply.

“You’ve tried it your way,” he said, “so let me try mine.”

Nu exhaled heavily. “What do you need?” she asked again.

“This…isn’t a matter of need, but want,” he admitted. The dha’kad’au perked up. “A little birdie told me that the Jedi Archives held a holocron constructed by Tarre Viszla.”

“A little birdie,” Nu repeated incredulously. “The only ones who have access to that knowledge are the-.” She stopped dead, staring. “That little birdie wouldn’t happen to be Minasheen, would it?”

Ben smiled, but didn’t answer.

Nu closed her eyes, muttering inaudibly to herself. “I swear,” she growled out loud, “there was something in the water during our time in the creche,” and he couldn’t help but recall the names she’d mentioned before. Yan, of course, and Sy, as well as the jetii running rampant in Hutt space.

“Are you carrying the Darksaber?” she demanded.

“No,” Ben replied in all truthfulness. The dha’kad’au had been incredibly insistent this morning about being dismantled and tucked into its favourite synthsilk pouch, and its crystal was currently burning a metaphorical hole against his thigh. The rest of its components had been broken down into base parts, and only a Jetii might have known them for anything other than scrap. “I heard it was lost.”

“It’s been sighted on Coruscant,” Nu said, narrowing her eyes at him.

“That must have been the first confirmed sighting of it in- how many years?”

Nu stared at him for a beat longer before relenting with a huff. “Follow me,” she ordered, and marched out the door.

Ben followed her, bemused.

Nu stalked past a number of startled jetiise, not paying them any mind. Her head was raised, eyes forward and intent as she led him past the public areas and into a corridor lined with vaults. He could feel the change in the air, similar yet unlike that of the nexus, and the dha’kad’au was practically vibrating in anticipation. He’d never been this deep into the Archives and was just relieved that the dha’kad’au, at least, knew where they were going.

“This vault was constructed under Tarre Viszla’s instructions,” Nu said. “It’s where his holocron is stored, and where the Darksaber was kept until it was stolen.” She arched an eyebrow at him. “You’re certain you haven’t seen it?”

Ben smiled beatifically. “I was hardly the one with news of its sighting.”

Nu openly scoffed, but keyed in the passcode to grant them access to the vault. “I will warn you,” she said, “I can show you the holocron, but Tarre Viszla left no instruction as to how to open it.”

“It hasn’t been opened since?” he asked, startled.

“When the theft of the Darksaber was discovered, we were just relieved to discover Tarre Viszla’s holocron was still in place, and we suspected the thief didn’t know what it was. And then after- well, relations between Jedi and Mandalorians have never been good.”

Ben nodded absently, approaching the pedestal where the holocron lay, unlit.

You’ve got this? he nudged the dha’kad’au, only to receive a smug brush against his mind and a tugging of his hand in reply. Ben relaxed into the dha'kad'au's urging and laid his hand over the holocron, Manda causing his fingertips to tingle. Behind him, he heard Nu’s breath catch as the holocron lit up, its individual sections sliding into place as it opened.

A male Humanoid holo flickered into being, and Ben bowed his head, pulling his hand back from the holocron to cross it over his chest. Tarre Viszla was not his Mand’alor- was not anyone’s Mand’alor, not anymore- but he could still accord the man the respect he had won in life.

“Su cuy’gar,” Viszla said, eyebrow arched in challenge.

“Su cuy’gar, Mand’alor,” he returned. His mouth continued to move and Mando’a spilt out, but he honestly wouldn’t be able to recount a single word he was saying. The dha’kad’au was practically twined around his mind like a threat hazard of a tooka, its yearning heavy in his heart.

Ben could recognise that Viszla was speaking Mando’a, too, but it was likely an archaic version of the language that he couldn’t altogether parse, and didn’t think he should; he and the dha’kad’au deserved their privacy.

He wouldn’t have have been been able to tell how long they were speaking before, but Viszla’s voice was crackling with emotion.

“Ad’ika?”

He closed his eves, savouring the correct intonation of his name.

“Mand’alor.”

“Meg ibic Jetii?”

Ben looked for Nu, who had been recording the entire affair on a datapad she’d whipped out of Manda only knew where.

“This is Archivist Nu,” he said in introduction. One corner of his mouth twitched. “I don’t think Tarre Viszla needs much of an introduction.”

She snorted. “No, he does not,” she replied, and bowed in greeting. “Master Viszla.”

“I gave up the right to that title when I left the Order,” Viszla said in his heavily-accented and antiquated Basic.

“How would you like me to address you, then?” she asked.

“Viszla will do,” he said shortly.

“What can I do for you? Viszla.”

The man didn’t answer immediately, appearing to mull over his words before he spoke again.

“Yaim,” he eventually said, his voice breaking mid-word. Viszla closed his eyes, hiding his pained yearning from view.

“Home,” Ben translated for Nu as he flexed his fingers. If it were his Mand’alor in distress-.

“Yaim,” Viszla agreed, slowly opening his eyes again. “I want to go home.”

“I don’t know how you’d even begin to explain this,” he commented as they made their winding way back towards the public Archives.

“Trust me,” Nu drawled, “neither do I. First Viszla’s lightsaber goes missing and becomes the symbol of the Mandalor’s reign, and now I’m helping his holocron disappear, too. Although,” she added in a thoughtful tone, “technically, this could be noted as repatriating a cultural icon to a local contact.”

Ben snorted, but sobered soon enough. Nu noticed, and huffed.

“Spit it out.”

“Why are you helping me?” he asked. “It can’t all be nostalgia for a failed Padawan.”

She cocked her head at him. “If any failure was involved in your leaving, then it was on our part.”

Ben didn’t know what to say. Her words echoed Tahl's in a way he wasn't quite certain he could accept.

“Your circumstances were exceptional, and not in a good way,” she continued bluntly. “Jedi leave the Order all the time for all sorts of reasons, and it’s almost always with our blessing. For younglings, it’s a little trickier, especially those who leave us as Initiates and Padawans, because they’re almost always universally under the galactic legal age. Appropriate guardians must be found before we release younglings, and we ensure that their guardians are aware that they can always reach out to us if the youngling in question requires additional Force training.”

Neither he nor Bruck Chun had gotten anything even remotely close to such treatment.

“I found my own guardians,” he said instead of engaging with any of that. Przekiel was going to have a field day with him once he returned home.

Nu looked at him with wizened eyes. “Like I said, your circumstances were exceptional. Did you know, your case is used as a cautionary tale now? To ensure that nothing like your situation ever happens again?”

Ben swallowed past the lump in his throat. The way she spoke made his life sound like- but it hadn't been as bad as all that.

“I told you,” he croaked, “I didn’t help you for the Order. But the children that come through your doors- they deserve better. All children do.”

“How you left the Order was hardly ideal,” she said, “but I can be grateful for how you’ve come into your own. Those guardians you’ve found for yourself must be quite something.”

“They were the best,” he declared. “I couldn’t have asked for better.”

Nu gazed at him for a moment longer. “I couldn’t place your accent, previously, just that you had one. At least, not until I heard Viszla speaking in Basic. You were found by Mandalorians, weren’t you?”

Ben could hardly deny it now. He raised his chin and said, “Elek, ni Mando’ad.”

She simply nodded. “We like to conveniently forget, but one’s culture does not disappear once one becomes a Jedi. Viszla even left the Order, although it appeared to be on good terms, to return to Mandalore. And now you, Adika.”

“Me?” he asked warily.

“You might not be here for the Order,” she said, “but you are still doing this for a Jedi. One who meant enough to you, even after all these years-.”

“And the ad’e,” he bit out. “You’re right, I would feel no loss if I never crossed paths with a jetii ever again, but gar ad’e deserved better: this is the Way.”

Nu bowed once. “I’m grateful for your help.”

Ben stroked over where Viszla’s holocron now sat, in a pocket opposite from the dha’kad’au. “…and I am yours, in this,” he said slowly. “I do not expect my identity to remain a secret for much longer. But in the meantime-.”

“How far along in the investigation are you?”

“I have several solid leads,” he grimly replied. “I will drag Reeft’s killer into the Light.”

Nu watched him with a steady consideration. “What a curious turn of phrase,” she murmured. “Now. What can you tell me of our little birdie?”

He supposed that was that tooka out of the bag. But there was no anger or aggression in Nu for the deception, just patience and a sharp look in her eye that reminded him of Yan, of all people. He could give her this much, he mused, and drop the whole mess in Sy’s lap to deal with, if he hadn’t Seen it already.

“He came to us,” he replied, “and for good reason. He did not think that the Jetii would help, but we did. He’s in good health and better spirits, and speaks of you with fondness.”

Nu blinked once, her sharp gaze darting elsewhere.

“I think he would be grateful that you believed in him,” he added softly. “He never says much, but I have a feeling there weren’t very many of those around by the time he left.”

“No, he wouldn’t say,” she murmured, her gaze still directed elsewhere, maybe to a memory before his time. “This is why I’m helping you.”

Ben frowned. He thought they’d gone over this already.

“You came back for Reeft, and your fury on behalf of our younglings speaks lightyears of your character. Our birdie isn’t the only one speaking of people with fondness- he’s managed to endear himself to you, too, and as you said, there are far too few people in this galaxy who still speak of him with such fondness anymore.

“You might not have returned for the Order, but it, like any institution, is made up of individuals. All of us, no matter our cultural backgrounds or the oaths we swore, are interconnected through the Force. Sometimes, those connexions harm us. Other times, they bind us together in empathy and fortitude.”

Ben had no idea where Nu was going with this.

“We may be One with the Force, but the Force is also one with us. As long as we acknowledge that, we have a common ground to start from.”

“Start what?” he asked suspiciously.

Her mouth twitched, and with a start, Ben realised that she was smiling.

“Anything,” she replied, spreading her hands. “After all, all things are possible through the Force. Despite your apathy towards the Order at large, you never forgot Reeft, even after making a life for yourself, and I believe he never forgot you either.”

He knew Reeft hadn’t, but she didn’t.

“What are you asking of me?” he asked flatly.

“Not much,” she replied, her hands dusting down the front of her intricate, gold tabards. “Just to remember that birds are fragile creatures.”

He bristled at her insinuation. “He’s stronger than you think. Besides, he’s safe, now.”

“Take care of him, because I can’t,” she evenly returned. “Take care of that, too,” she added, pointing to the pocket where the holocron sat. “And take care of yourself. I am sorry we couldn’t show it before you left us, but we cared, and we never forgot, either.”

Ben drew a shaky breath through his nose. “You Jetii and your apologies,” he rasped. “Kar’ta jaon kovid - try thinking with your heart over your head for a change.”

Nu raised her eyebrows. “There is a very good reason why we are taught to temper our passions,” she replied.

“And to that end, how many of your own will you watch walk away, because their passions were drained from them, because they could only connect with their heads and not with their hearts?” He shook his head. “And if it had to take me and all your other external consultants to come in and point out what was wrong with your nexus, then you’ll aren’t even using your heads very well, are you?”

Her eyes pinned him. “I’ve threatened to shoot people for less,” she retorted.

“Doesn’t make what I’ve said any less true.”

“That’s the only reason why you’re getting a free pass this time, Adika, but not again.”

He shrugged. “That’s fine; I don’t expect we’ll ever meet again after this.”

“Haven’t you been listening to a word I said?” she demanded. “Honestly, sometimes, you remind me of Dooku.” Well, Ben was ad be’buir, and thought Yan would be smug to hear it.

“I’ve been listening,” he retorted, “but your words are hardly-.”

“Master Nu.” They were interrupted, a Humanoid Jetii bowing in apology. “Master Narec was looking for you and your guest earlier; he’s waiting at the Archive entrance.”

Ben peered around the corner as Nu sighed. “Thank you.” The Jetii bowed again before scurrying off into the shelves.

“I thought Narec left with Koth.”

“He did,” Nu growled. “He’d better have a decent explanation for returning.”

“Adika!” Narec exclaimed upon seeing him. He tried to smile, but it was brittle and faltering.

“You’re supposed to be with Councillor Koth,” Nu said, almost accusing.

“A thought occurred to me, and Councillor Koth gave me leave to go,” Narec explained, hiding his fidgeting hands up his sleeves.

“You were looking for me?” Ben asked.

“Yes, Adika,” the man mumbled. “I just- I hadn’t forgotten how you felt the last time you went down to the nexus, and I can’t help but think it might be good for you to stop by the Halls before you left.”

Ben swallowed a sigh. “Narec, I’m fine.”

“It couldn’t hurt to be sure, could it?” the man asked, his eyes beseeching. “No one knows the origin of these workings, yet, just that they were dire.”

“I would recommend it, Adika,” Nu said in a tone that appeared stern, but she was one twitch away from smirking.

Ben did sigh, then.

“Fine, although I’d like to state for the record that I feel fine.”

Narec summoned up a smile that appeared a touch more genuine. “Thank you, Adika. You aren’t even staying in the Temple- I couldn’t forgive myself if there was a delayed reaction from some of the leftover residue.”

“...how do you even come up with these things?” he asked, as Nu nodded at them in farewell before vanishing back into her kingdom.

“That has actually happened to me before,” Narec admitted, pink-faced. “I was still a Padawan at the time, and I gave my Teacher quite the fright.” He sighed. “Thank you for obliging me, Adika. I- you’re so young still, and you’re here on Coruscant by yourself. I can’t help but worry.”

“I’m hardly that young,” he said, frowning.

Narec offered him a tremulous smile. “I have a Padawan about your age, and I miss her,” he admitted with surprising frankness. “I suppose that means I’ll fuss over anyone and anything that stands still enough to let me.”

As a matter of fact, Ben did know of the man’s Padawan (through Nest), and he was most assuredly not her age. He could hardly explain all that, though, so he just nodded.

Usually, Narec would chatter on about his historical observations of the Temple but he remained silent this time, more often staring at the floor in front of them than anywhere else.

“Are you alright, Narec?”

“Fine!” he exclaimed. “I’m absolutely fine!”

“I recall saying the same just a few minutes ago and not being believed,” Ben said dryly.

“I- don’t not believe you,” Narec protested. “I just think-.”

“Narec,” he interrupted. “If you’d rather not say, that’s absolutely fine, but you’re terrible at pretending.”

The man’s shoulders sagged and he looked so utterly gutted that Ben almost regretted saying anything at all. “I’m sorry for being a bother,” he mumbled.

“I didn’t say you were one, either.”

Narec fiddled with his fingers for another few steps before blurting out, “I learnt something about an acquaintance and I’m no longer certain how to- how.”

“How to how?” he teased. “I’m not sure many people have the answer to that, either.”

Narec let out a weak chuckle. “I merely find myself at a loss as to how to address this- this quandary I have.”

“Are you on good enough terms with your acquaintance to discuss this matter with them in-person?”

“I- don’t know.”

Ben shrugged. “What’s the worst case scenario if you do ask? Think about that answer, and then go from there.”

Narec sent him a helpless smile. “Risk management and analysis?“

“Or Je- Jedi do that sitting thing. You can go sit it over in each of your thousand fountains and think of a solution.”

Narec’s smile turned slightly more genuine. “I could. What would you do, if you were in my position?”

Ben hummed thoughtfully. “If I wasn’t sure about approaching the person in question directly? I’d talk to someone who knew us both and get their read of the situation.”

“Thank you for your input, Adika, I’ll meditate upon your words,” Narec promised, just in time for them to reach the Halls of Healing.

The same Quarren from before was in his office, and he looked up with an affable smile when Narec knocked on his door.

“Bant is going to think you’re avoiding her at this rate, Narec,” he said, and Ben had to fight not to start at the casual mention of his oldest vod.

“I’m not,” Narec replied, his tone on the verge of a whine. “I’ll schedule a visit to convince her if I have to.”

The Quarren’s smile softened. “She’ll be grateful for the chance to catch up, regardless. We hear from Asajj, but it's not the same.”

A helplessly fond smile overtook Narec’s face at the mention of his Padawan, erasing the earlier worry. “Oh, my dear,” he murmured.

Just then, the man's comm beeped, causing him to startle.

“Oh dear,” Narec muttered, checking it with a wince, “I should be headed back soon.”

“Were you here for something?” the Quarren asked, glancing between the 2 of them.

“Yes, Llewyl,” Narec said. “I would be most obliged if you examined Adika again, just to be absolutely sure he’s alright. We headed down to the nexus today, and we made it all the way.”

The Quarren, Llewyl, let out a tired sigh. “I’ll be glad once that matter is settled,” he said, “or even managed.”

“So will all of us, Llewyl,” Narec agreed. “I’m sorry, I didn’t think to introduce you 2 the last time: Adika, this is Healer Cor Llewyl. Llewyl, this is Adika, the consultant who identified the corruption at our nexus.”

Llewyl’s eye ridges rose. “Then I think we all owe you a very big thank you, Adika,” he said, standing to karking bow, of all things. “I’d be honoured to make sure you’re in good health.”

Narec’s comm beeped again.

“I’m sorry, Adika,” he said, wincing, “I have to go. But I leave you in the very best hands.”

“You honour me, Narec,” Llewyl replied with a lopsided smile. “Now shoo, and don’t forget to close the door behind you.”

Llewyl was as brisk and professional in his examination this time as he was previously. Ben let the Quarren’s calm tones wash over him as he considered just who he might be to Bant. Colleagues, obviously, but he had a suspicion there was more to it than that. Bant never mentioned any of the Jetii by name even as she spoke of them with a warm smile on her face, and he hadn’t felt comfortable asking, before.

Ben knew Fisto, obviously, and he knew Vokara Che, no matter how briefly, having been under her care after returning from Bandomeer. There had been another fellow Healer who Bant hadn't named, was especially close to, and, in true Jetii fashion, never defined her relationship with.

Garen had readily burnt all his remaining bridges and left, taking the tattered, battered remnants of his corps with him. Quin and Tholme hadn’t known they wouldn’t return, but Siri had made her choice. It was incredibly remiss of him, but Ben had never really considered how his vod’e had had lives here. Of course the Younglings would be welcome on Manda'yaim - but what did that mean for those left behind?

“Your blood pressure’s a little elevated,” Llewyl concluded. “I’d ask you to drink lots of fluids and take it easy for the next few days - but I don’t think the latter’s on your docket, is it? Adika.”

Ben raised his eyebrows. “Excuse me?”

“It’s a pleasure to finally meet you,” Llewyl continued, putting away his implements. He wore an earnest expression, and even though the dha’kad’au felt watchful, it wasn’t quite on its guard, either.

“Bant doesn’t like to lie, you know. She can, if she has to, quite well, even, but she doesn’t like it.”

Llewyl kept staring at him, expectantly.

Finally, he said, “…I know.”

Llewyl beamed.

“Master Kit, on the other hand, lies like he’s telling the truth, only sometimes his truths are even more outlandish than his lies and it becomes almost impossible to differentiate the 2. Even so, one can’t help but be amused.”

“That sounds like what I’ve heard of him, yes.”

“So how Bant chooses not to lie is by not saying anything really, really loudly. We’re almost the same age, you know, and our years in the creche overlap, although we weren’t in the same clan. But it made quite the news when a Padawan went missing and was thought dead, and their crechemates were sanctioned by the High Council for attachment. It's not the sort of thing one forgets."

“How did you find out?”

“You look a rather lot like your Padawan profile,” Llewyl said kindly. “I looked you up years ago.”

“My file was buried.” By Bant and Quinlan both.

“It took awhile to find it, yes,” Llewyl agreed, “but the ones who buried it are still sentient beings with habits and tells, and I found it eventually. I wanted to understand. If you'd stayed in the Temple, we could have been friends, after all. Bant- all of them, really- are very fiercely loyal to your memory. Although calling you a ‘memory’ is a bit of a misnomer, I suppose.”

“What are you going to do now?”

“Nothing,” Llewyl said with a shrug.

“Nothing,” Ben repeated flatly. These Jetii were frankly ridiculous.

“You’re hardly here to cause trouble,” Llewyl said confidently, “quite the opposite, in fact.”

Ben thought of the Dar’jetti and said, “Define trouble.”

Llewyl laughed. “Besides, the Force is strong in you.”

Manda also wasn’t infallible and could be compromised. Where had their Manda been when the Dar’jetti had wrought his workings on the nexus? For that matter, where had his Manda been when his vod was being tortured and killed on Coruscanta?

The dha’kad’au crooned at him, tucking itself snugly against him. He sighed, letting his hands rest over his thighs - over the dha’kad’au and Viszla’s holocron, and felt them warm at his touch.

“You jetiise are so weird,” he muttered. “And Bant? What are you going to say to her?”

If Llewyl said ‘nothing’, Ben was going to hit him over the head with his chair.

The Quarren smiled, but it was a little crooked and pained. “I doubt she’s going to tell me anything now after all these years of telling me nothing.”

Ben really was going to hit him over the head with his chair.

“But- it’ll come to a head soon, won’t it?” Llewyl asked him, eyes wide. “And soon. That’s why you’re back, after all these years.” He sighed, fiddling with his fingers. “We do need to talk, don’t we?”

…maybe Ben wouldn’t be hitting him over the head with his chair. He raised his eyebrows pointedly, and Llewyl blushed purple.

“We do need to talk,” he mumbled, “but those are literally the last words anyone in a relationship wants to hear.”

“You can admit that much,” Ben said. “That’s a start.”

“I think we’ve been doing alright so far,” Llewyl said, his flush deepening. “We’ve had very supportive people that have helped us manage our affection versus our attachment. Although- it’s never been tested,” he admitted shamefacedly. “Bant’s only recently been leaving the Temple more often, and I’ve never left the Core. We’ve never been really been separated.”

He’d heard what had befallen Bant and Fisto on their latest mission, and knew how close that had come to changing. If that jetii hadn’t been there - that might have been another of his vod’e he could have lost without ever knowing it.

Ben exhaled a controlled breath, fingers flexing over the dha’kad’au and Viszla’s holocron.

“You can shelter and protect those you love all your life, but sometimes, Manda has other plans in store. When that time comes, you can only look back on your life and your relationship up to that point and hope they know how much you love them.”

Llewyl glanced up, a small smile on his lips. “That…sounds an awful lot like something Master Che has said before, actually.”

Ben wrinkled his nose. “I’m no Jetii.”

Llewyl stared at him for a long moment. “…no, I suppose not.”

He stood, nodding at the Quarren. “I will leave you,” he said. “You have a conversation to be getting to.”

Llewyl winced. “In time. Like I said, no one in a relationship likes hearing those words.”

Ben snorted again, amused despite himself as he moved to the door and unlocked it. It slid open, only for him to freeze at the sight of the person on the other side of it.

“Adika?” came Llewyl’s concerned voice from behind him. “Is there a probl- oh.”

Ben stared down at Bant, who was staring up at him. Slowly, he began to smile. He’d never been able to do this to somebody else before.

“You know what they say about time,” he told Llewyl, just to watch the Quarren groan and slap a hand over his face. Bant looked between them, suspicion growing on her face.

“There’s no time like the present.”

That had been quite the high to leave the Temple on, although Bant had unfortunately shut the door to Llewyl’s office before the shouting started up in earnest. The Guards still seemed buoyed by the Lighter air and didn’t even glare at him as he skipped down the main stair.

His good mood lasted until he returned the Bounty Hunters’ Guild and found an unfamiliar Humanoid male setting up shop at the front desk.

“Where’s Sachi?” he demanded.

The man raised his eyebrows unimpressed. “The little Mirialan girl? She got her arse tossed for skipping out on her job.”

Ben belatedly realised he hadn’t seen hide or hair of Sachi after passing her Bail’s message. He doubted Bail would have done anything to her, not that Solaris would have let him, which meant Bail had either never even received his message, or that she’d gone missing after delivering his message. The latter was rather more problematic and depended on who might have seen her cross paths with Bail. He’d thought her unconnected enough to be safe, but he’d clearly thought wrong.

“Where are her things?” he demanded, his voice laced with Manda.

The man stiffened. “I took them.”

“You will give them to me,” Ben ordered, “every last thing of hers, intact, and in one piece.”

Ben could feel the man try to fight his command, and used Manda to press him into compliance. The man fair fled after that, loudly scrambling to gather up Sachi’s belongings. Maybe it was fortunate that Solaris was with Bail; he doubted the Shard would approve of his actions.

“This is all her stuff!” the terrified man whimpered, shoving a battered duffel bag into his arms and then ducking behind the desk. Well, if Ben had his way, neither he nor the man would be here for very much longer.

He went up to his room and left Sachi’s things with his own, making sure to booby-trap the door in the event the man attempted to get revenge. He redressed in his beskar'gam and replaced the dha'kad'au's crystal in its hilt, arming himself to the nines. Thankfully, the pack was far easier to find this time, slinking out of the shadows almost immediately after he left the Guild.

“Here.”

The last shirt he’d seen Sachi wearing had been at the top of the bag, unwashed, and he held it out for the anoobas to sniff.

“You remember Sachi, don’t you?” An anooba licked over his knuckles,whining. “Let’s go find her.”

Ben let the pack take the lead, noses down and tails up, sometimes snarling and snapping at each other in disagreement, but always moving, always alert.

The pack led him to a nondescript door that he was more than willing to kick down, but one of the anoobas let out a big, loud bark. Ben immediately drew his blaster.

“You-!”

A discreet panel in the bottom half of the door slid open for a rather familiar snout to poke its way out.

“Marrok?” he demanded, the tip of his blaster wavering. Then the rest of the door slid open, and he immediately turned his blaster on the person in its shadow. He wish he could say he was surprised when Embo stepped out, an unimpressed expression on his face. He was disappointed, though.

“You do what you do for a price,” he spat out, throwing the Kyuzo's words in his face. “Where is Sachi M’bak?”

Chapter Text

“You do what you do for a price,” he spat out, throwing the Kyuzo's words in his face. “Where is Sachi M’bak?”

Then Ben had to jerk his blaster up as an anooba jumped, teeth snapping where his hands had just been.

“What the-?”

The anooba let out a reproving yip. Ben frowned, stepping back to take in the whole picture. None of the anoobas were aggressive, either physically or in Manda. Marrok had its hackles raised where it was standing defensively in front of Embo, but it also seemed content to leave the intervention to the pack.

“Are you serious right now?” he demanded, dropping his blaster to his side. “Look, Sachi’s missing, it’s not exactly the time for a play-date!”

The same anooba who’d snapped at him whined, its ears pinned back. Another anooba yipped, nosing at Marrok, who huffed, ears quirking.

Ben sighed, feeling his entire being sagging as he reholstered his blaster. “Ni ceta, Embo,” he muttered. “I was just worried, and these di’kut’e weren’t helping.”

The anooba by his side delicately took ahold of Sachi’s shirt in its teeth and tugged his hand forward, and the other anooba nudged at Marrok.

Embo growled out a question, and Ben winced. “I’m afraid my translation-bot isn’t available today. Standard military handsigns?”

Embo made a face, and let out a sharp whistle instead; Ben was just grateful that his buy’ce filtered out its volume. Marrok barked, its heavy head swinging between Sachi’s shirt and the Kyuzo. Ben stared.

“You want to…communicate through Marrok,” he said flatly.

Embo simply pointed at the rest of the pack with an expectant expression. Oh, ka’ra.

Are you certain you don’t understand Kyuzo? he demanded plaintively from the dha’kad’au, who had been suspiciously silent all this while. It didn’t even bother answering him.

“Such a mir’sheb,” he muttered. Embo let out a rumbling sound, and Ben hurriedly raised his hands. “No, I was just talking to myself.” He sighed. “I suppose it’s good that Marrok and the pack are fond of each other.”

This was the strangest communication relay he’d ever been a part of, using anoobas as translators. When he inevitably told Cerasi and Nield this, they were going to think he was talking out of his arse (even more so than usual).

Marrok barked, nosing at Sachi’s shirt. An anooba barked back, tail wafting aloft. Ben just stared as the barking went back and forth.

“I don’t think we need a translator at all,” he told Embo. “In fact, I think we ought to just sit back and let the anoobas do all the work.”

The anooba who’d tugged at Sachi’s shirt tugged again, harder.

“Do you want me to- here,” he said, holding out the shirt for Marrok to take. It yipped out a thanks, stuffing its nose into her shirt to get a good few lungfuls of her scent.

Another anooba nudged his hand, nosing between him and Embo. “What, the story?” he sighed. “I asked Sachi to help me send a message to the Senate Building, and she’s been missing ever since. Sachi M’bak, the part-Mirialan who mans the front desk at the Guild?”

Embo frowned, muttering out an incredulous question. Marrok barked at an anooba, who picked up Sachi's shirt between its teeth and gave it back to him. Ben grimaced.

“I know, it was- I thought she was unconnected enough to not be in any trouble.” Maybe this anooba-translation thing wasn’t as half-karked as he thought it’d be. Ben clenched his fists. “If anything happens to her, it’s on me.”

Embo said something else. Marrok barked, turning its head in 2 different directions. An anooba barked back, head cocked. Ben’s own head jerked.

“You have a lead on Eval’s Box?”

He couldn’t dig his nails into his palms, not with his gauntlets in the way. He tooka a few moments, fighting to keep his breathing even and his thinking sound.

“Do you think Eval noticed you?”

Embo gave him a disdainful look that needed no translation at all.

“Alright, so he might not think to move it again quite so soon,” Ben thought aloud. He swallowed back the bitterness that threatened to overwhelm him. “If you can track Sachi now, while there’s a chance she might still be alive, I’d rather do that. I won’t prioritise a dead person’s crime scene over a living person.”

Embo stared at him for a heavy moment, those orange eyes boring into him. Marrok barked, breaking their stare-off. It pawed at Embo’s knee, tail wafting behind it.

That cut he’d negotiated for Embo might have to double after this; Marrok certainly deserved its share, after all.

The Kyuzo turned and Marrok set off, ears pricked. Ben bit back a sigh as the pack surged forward around him, more than eager to start after them. Thankfully, they didn’t go far. Ben had been terrified he’d be finding yet another corpse on Coruscanta, even if Manda was clearer now than he ever remembered it.

Marrok paused at a crossroads, head swinging heavily from side-to-side. It turned back to sniff at Sachi’s shirt before it sneezed, and then sniffed again. Embo rumbled out a question.

Marrok huffed, swinging its head from side-to-side again, and then it barked. Another anooba yipped back, and a few anoobas peeled away from the rest of the pack to dart off in the opposite direction.

“There are 2 trails,” Ben translated. “One of them is fresher, but smells- of armour and weaponry. The other trail is older, but smells muddled.”

The trail Marrok was following was the fresher one, and both he and Embo were on their guard, given the amount of weaponry Marrok had sniffed out. An anooba whined, telling him that Sachi had never smelt of danger to them, not like she smelt now. Ben didn’t want to think that he’d been played so badly, didn’t want to think he’d put Bail in even more danger.

Fear was useless in this situation; he needed a sound mind more than anything.

But the trail went cold in a matter of minutes, bringing them to a dead-end alley where the only escape route was a rusty staircase barely hanging onto the side of the building. Marrok tipped its head up at the gloom overhead and let out a mournful croon.

“A jetpack would be pretty useful right about now,” Ben muttered, also looking up.

Embo growled out a question. Marrok cocked its head and yipped out a question to a pack anooba, who in turn barked out the question at him.

“Jetpacks aren’t exclusive to Mando’ad,” he snapped back. An anooba whined, nosing at his fingertips. Ben sighed, trying to release his pent-up tension. “I won’t apologise, but I don’t take well to such accusations, either. There could be any number of reasons for why Sachi or whoever took her had a jetpack.” He thought back to Pong H’narr and her ad, Kitster, both of whom had been working on marvellous upgrades over the past few years.

“But I can almost guarantee that whatever they’re using isn’t as efficient as a true Mando’ad jetpack,” he added with a sniff.

Embo made a sound like a snort.

Just then, loud barking had them turning. The anoobas who’d run off in the opposite direction had returned, ears pricked.

“They found Sachi,” Ben rasped, and ran after them.

The anoobas had left a pair to guard a door several streets down from the crossroad they had started at. One anooba perked up when it saw them coming, barking out a greeting while its tail began to wag a mile a minute, and the other reared up on its hind feet, pawing at the door handle.

“It’s locked,” Ben muttered, his HUD picking up weak sounds from behind the door. It wasn’t difficult to break and he knelt, pulling out a multi-tool to jiggle the door open.

Sachi was lying on the damp floor, mouth gagged and tied to an overturned chair. She let out a frightened whimper at the sight of them.

"Ni ceta, Sachi,” he rasped, “I never meant for this to happen.” It was only fitting that he kneel to cut through her binds with the small blade on his multi-tool. The anoobas crept close, nosing and licking at her exposed skin. Once she was free, Ben pulled out his canteen and offered it to her. “It's just water. Where are you hurting? What happened?”

Sachi gingerly sat up, rubbing at her wrists as she gingerly took the canteen from him and drank. An anooba volunteered to act as her back support and yet another settled in front of her, licking at her bruised face and presenting her with a shoulder to lean on.

“I- I didn’t know ‘em,” she whispered, putting his canteen down in favour of clinging to the offered anooba. “I was leaving the Senate Building when they nabbed me from the back. They wanted to know what it was I gave to the Senator, but I- I didn’t read your message.” Her voice was barely even audible when she said that.

“Vor’e, Sachi,” he said, gently putting one hand on her shoulder in support. “I wouldn’t have blamed you even if you had said anything.” He’d made his message purposefully vague for a reason. “I’m just glad you’re alive.”

“Me too,” she replied, trying for a smile, only to wince when it pulled at the wounds on her face. The most obvious bruise was a shiner covering her eye and part of her cheek, its colour nearly blending in with her facial tattoos. She also had a split lip and had dried blood down one nostril.

“Can you describe who kidnapped you?”

Sachi shuddered violently, clinging harder to the anooba even as she winced. “I didn’t- I don’t understand,” she whimpered. “I didn’t recognise 'em, but then they stepped away, and when they returned, it was- it was me.”

Ben frowned as he retrieved his canteen, tucking it back into his utility belt. He hadn’t heard of any technology that could create a disguise quite so quickly, and nudged the dha’kad’au.

“They looked like you?” he echoed.

“It was my face,” she whispered, her confusion audible, “they were wearing bounty hunter clothes, but they were wearing my face.”

Clawdite, the dha’kad’au hummed. “A Clawdite?” Ben asked.

“Za’ W’sell,” Embo snarled, stepping forward. Sachi cringed back, but all the Kyuzo did was swing off his poncho and drop it on top of her. Sachi stared up at him beneath the heavy fabric, looking startled.  

Marrok barked, shoving its snout in front of Sachi to lick at her unwounded cheek. She let out a timid giggle, and carefully carded her fingers through its thick fur. Another anooba nudged him with its snout, whining.

“Zam Wesell,” Ben sounded out.

Sachi gasped. “I know her!” she exclaimed breathlessly, before wincing and clutching at her middle. “She’s registered with the Guild but she’s Human, isn’t she?”

Ben glanced up at Embo. “Apparently, Clawdites are shapeshifters,” he said. “Embo, please correct me if I’m wrong.”

The Kyuzo just growled. Marrok glanced up at its owner, and promptly decided that didn’t need a translation.

“I have all of your things, so you don’t have to worry about them,” Ben said kindly.

“Oh, my job,” Sachi mubled.

“I think where you’re going to stay might be more of a concern,” he said apologetically.

Embo huffed, and then bit out something. Marrok perked up, nearly knocking Sachi in the chin. It let out an excited yip, and the other anoobas perked up, too, all of their tails wagging merrily.

Ben blinked, looking up at him. “Really? Are you certain?”

“What is it?” Sachi whispered.

“If you’re open to it,” he said, “Embo’s willing to take you in. He isn’t planning to stay on Coruscanta long-term, but till then- oh! And if you’re concerned, the pack is willing to stay with you on-rotation.”

“Oh,” she breathed, huddling deeper into Embo’s poncho. “I- are you sure? I- I don’t know-.”

Marrok crooned at her, nuzzling at her uninjured cheek. Ben smiled, ruffling an anooba’s crest, only to huff as it purposely sagged against his thigh.

“The anoobas’ll look after you,” he said. “Perhaps that was my mistake in not sending a couple of them along with you; they wouldn’t have let you get nabbed.”

The pack-anooba yipped out an agreement; no, they wouldn’t have. Truly, the Guard had trained them too well.

“Do you think that would work for you?” he asked her kindly.

“I-.” Sachi glanced up at Embo again, both of her arms wrapped around Marrok and the pack-anooba. “Are you sure?”

The Kyuzo rumbled down at her, putting a heavy hand on Marrok’s head. It grinned up at its partner, jaw hanging open in a wide grin. Another anooba crooned out a sound, jostling the anooba on his thigh for attention.

Ben could never have dreamt that the anoobas would have led him to such a place when he’d first met them, but he was hardly ungrateful for their presence now. He playfully tugged at a notched ear, smiling when the anooba flicked its ear out of his grip.

“Embo feels like the anoobas are a good judge of character, as do I.”

“I-. Oh, okay,” Sachi stammered out.

“I can go and get your things,” he volunteered. He probably also had to think of moving his things, too, but the problem was- to where?

The dha’kad’au sent him a reluctant nudge.

Bail had meant well. He’d made mistakes, but he had meant well. Ben also did have to retrieve Solaris at some point. The dha’kad’au felt considerably more reluctant at the Shard’s mention.

Maybe he didn’t have to stay there. He could just…use the amenities and duck into the spare room when Bail came home.

“I can go and get your things,” he said again. “Let me know where we could meet after?” he said to Embo. "If time permits, I would like to take a look at what you've found."

The Kyuzo frowned at him, growling out a question. Marrok whined, and an anooba pawed at his ankle.

“I’d rather get this finished sooner rather than later,” Ben replied. “I feel like I’ve tarried too long already. It’s been months since he died, you know?”

Embo stared, those orange-lamp eyes boring into him. Finally, he rumbled out a reply, to which Marrok yipped and an anooba huffed.

“Take your time getting settled back at Embo’s,” Ben said to Sachi. “I’ve got to move my things, too, but I’ll bring yours over straight after.”

She reached out for him, fingers brushing his arm. “Thank you,” she said shyly.

“You- don’t,” he muttered awkwardly. “I got you into this position in the first place.”

“You didn’t mean to,” she replied, “and you got me out of it.”

Ben closed his eyes, letting the relief at knowing that Sachi was alive and would continue to safely heal sink into his bones. “You could blame me and I’d understand,” he said. “But I’m just glad you’ll be okay. And you are burc’ya - friend, to Mando’ad now. I am honoured to have met you, Sachi M’bak.”

“It- it wasn’t anything,” she mumbled, hiding her blush into an anooba’s shoulder.

He patted her shoulder again and then stood, nodding at Embo. “I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

Ben ducked past him and sagged blindly against a wall some alleys over, just to take a moment to breathe. He would have to update Khal about the sum they were preparing for Embo's cut and ask Jango if he recognised the name 'Zam Wesell'. Now that they knew there was another player in the game, he really would have to talk to Bail in-person to see how far he'd gotten among his fellow Senators, and to follow up on the message he'd sent with Sachi.

But most importantly, Sachi had been found, alive; he hadn't been too late this time. And Embo had found Eval’s Box.

“I’m coming, Reeft,” he rasped. “Just a bit longer.”

The same male was still behind the reception desk when he returned, but he quailed and ducked behind it at the sight of him. Ben just shrugged, marching up the stair to remove the traps he'd left and then unlock his door. Everything was as he’d left it, including Sachi’s duffel.

Ben was already wearing the biggest, heaviest part of his belongings, so there was little to carry on his end, and most of it could be easily hidden among the bits-and-bobs around the man's flat. When he did make his way back to the 500 Republica, it was to a rather pleasant surprise: Solaris whistled out its surprise and joy at the sight of him from where it was perched on the kitchen island, even as the dha’kad’au let out a resigned grumble.

“Su cuy’gar, Solaris,” he said softly, holding out his hands in greeting. The Shard nearly tripped over its droid feet stumbling over towards him. Ben cuddled it close, letting its Light warm him.

He drew back just enough to see its face and hear it beep out a protest, and gently stroked its chassis.

“Ni ceta, Solaris,” he intoned. By ka'ra, it had been years since he'd apologised this much, and that more than anything spoke of his frame of mind. “I never meant to leave you alone.”

Solaris let out a tremulous warble, and then immediately pressed back into his hands. Ben was hardly complaining.

“I was certain Bail would take good care of you, at least.”

It let out a whistle of agreement.

“I did come back once, to take my things, but I didn’t see you here then. Have you been going to the Senate Building with him?”

Yes, it’s quite thrilling. Sentients are so very complicated these days.

Ben laughed softly. “Aren’t the Shard?”

Not like this, Solaris returned in a huff.

He smiled down at it, unable to quite put into words just how fond he had become of it in such a short time, and just how much he’d missed its gentle presence.

“Bail’s been good to you? Truly?”

Yes, it agreed fiercely. Usually I would have followed him to the Senate, but the Force told me I should be here today.

“Speaking of your Force and my Manda, did you feel it? When the Jetii cleansed their nexus?”

It shuddered in his arms and for once, the dha’kad’au extended its presence toward it in peace. There was so much Darkness, it said, I didn’t realise how much until it was all gone. When I reached out to my kin-.

“Wait, what?” he bleated out. “You- you reached out to Orax? From here?”

That I could speaks to the sheer amount of Darkness that had clogged the Force.

“I’ll say,” he marvelled, although he thought back to his own comm to Sy and the man's obvious relief, even over holo. “I went back to the Temple without you, I’m afraid, and made it down to the nexus. I’ll be happy to share the memory with you when we have more time.”

Solaris beamed its joy at him in Manda.

Are you coming back to stay? it asked. Bail is sorry.

Ben sighed. “I- we do have things to discuss, but I have another duty first.”

Solaris let out a questioning whistle.

“I’m going back to the Lower Levels, so-.”

It whistled sharply, causing him to wince, and the dha’kad’au bristled at what it saw as a slight. Solaris did not want to let him out of its sight again.

"It's got nothing to do with you, di'kut," he murmured over the dha'kad'au's grousing, brushing his fingers over where it sat in its synthsilk pouch. "You co-existed once; you can do it again. I do have to warn you that I'll be working closely with the anooba pack," he told Solaris, "although I'll be glad to have your help in translating Kyuzo again, since somebody-."

The dha'kad'au let out a threatening rumble. Ben snickered, nudging it companionably. He took a few moments to hide his things around Bail's spare room while Solaris made its own arrangements, preparing to once more eject its Solari crystal from its droid body. The last thing he removed from his person was Viszla's holocron from where he'd hidden it in one of his belt pouches. The dha'kad'au let out a worried little croon as he carefully tucked it into one of the little decorative cushions Bail had lying it around, biding it keep with a gentle brush of Manda.

What is that? Solaris asked.

“It’s a Jetii holocron,” he replied as he zipped up the cushion, a little bemused. “Have you never seen one before?”

Jedi, Solaris pointed out, not Shard.

“Well, the Dar’Jetii also had holocrons,” he mumbled out, stepping back to make sure nothing looked out of place. With a click and hiss, Solaris ejected its crystal from its droid body, a wire already looped around it. Ben smiled, ignoring the dha'kad'au's grumbling with the practice of long ease as he picked up Solaris's crystal and put it around his neck, tucking it beneath his flightsuit. He set Solaris’s deactivated droid body off to the side and scribbled a quick note on a scrap of flimsi, telling Bail not to worry in the event he returned before Ben did.

Then, he picked up Sachi’s bag and headed downward once more.

There were a couple of anoobas idly lounging at the top of the street of Embo’s room, ostensibly napping, but their ears flicked at the sound of his footsteps, and then one of them raised its head, crooning out a noise of welcome.

“Su cuy,” he murmured, scratching behind their ears. “Any trouble?”

One of the anoobas growled, and the other made a disdainful noise as if to ask Ben, who did he think they were?

He laughed, tugging at their crests. “I know, I know,” he coaxed, “how could I have ever doubted you?”

He made his way to Embo’s door and knocked. “Embo? It’s Adika.”

The half-panel at the bottom slid open to reveal Marrok, mouth hanging open in a wide grin. One of the anoobas squeezed its way past Marrok into the room.

“No,” Ben said flatly, “I am not using the anooba door.”

Marrok yipped, clearly laughing at him, before retreating back into the room, followed by the last anooba. The anooba door slid shut behind them. Ben stared at the door disbelievingly. He knew he hadn’t exactly made the best impression, but still!

Finally, the main door slid open, revealing Embo’s unimpressed face.

Ben held up Sachi’s bag. “How are things?” How is she?

Embo turned and walked away without another word. At least the door stayed open long enough for him to follow after.

It was a tight, relatively low-hanging place, especially for such a tall being as Embo. He found Sachi quick enough, huddled as she was in a pile of anoobas. She looked freshly scrubbed, the bruised side of her face covered in a bacta tincture and her split lip held together with a butterfly bandage.

What happened? Solaris demanded. Ben was just relieved that he had his buy’ce on and no one could say the way he’d flinched at its alarm. He gently nudged the dha’kad’au in a request for it to fill in its fellow crystal, focusing his attention on Embo instead.

“Vor’e, for looking out for her,” he told the Kyuzo lowly, palming him another credit chip. “This isn’t your full amount, but it should at least cover her care. I’m keeping track, ori’haat.”

Embo accepted the chip and nodded solemnly, leaving him to turn his attention to Sachi.

“Here are your things,” Ben said, putting the duffel bag down. “Let me know if anything’s missing, and I’ll go back and have words with the new receptionist.”

She looked up at him with big wide eyes from over an anooba’s heavy shoulder, swaddled in another of Embo’s ponchos.

“Thank you,” Sachi mumbled shyly.

“How are you feeling?” he asked, squatting in front of her, scratching a broad, furred shoulder when presented.

“I’ve been better,” she confessed, “but I didn’t think- I didn’t think.” Her voice trailed off uncertainly.

“You’re safe now,” he promised. “The pack will stay with you in shifts, and the Mando’ad would welcome you.”

“Just like that?” Sachi asked. Ben had thought her older than Bo and Nest, but now he wasn't certain. “I told you, I’m not a bounty hunter.”

He smiled at her, not that she could see it. “Not all Mando’ad are verd- warriors,” he translated. “There are all sorts of roles open to you. Even if you don’t want to swear the Resol'nare to ner Mand'alor, we have partner planets that you could settle on, depending on what you want to do. But you don’t have to think about it right now,” he said when Sachi just looked overwhelmed. “Just rest and when you feel better, we can talk about this again.”

She just nodded numbly, huddling against a very willing anooba.

Ben smiled again, and then looked over his shoulder at Embo. “Good to go?”

“You’re leaving?” Sachi blurted out.

“I need Embo’s help to find something,” he replied. “But we only need Marrok and maybe a couple anoobas for back-up. We have no intention of leaving you alone."

“But what if she comes back again,” Sachi whispered, “looking like you?”

One of the anoobas huffed, wriggling its head into her lap.

“That’s what the other anoobas are for,” Ben replied. “They’ll be able to sniff out Wesell if she tries the same trick again.”

“I don’t- I don’t want 'em getting hurt for me,” she protested, hugging the anooba.

Another anooba lazily snapped its jaws beside her face and to her credit, Sachi didn’t even blink, only leant her cheek against its own.

“Give them a bit of credit,” he gently chided, “they’re smarter than that. They can look after themselves and they’ll be able to look after you, too. And if that doesn’t work,” he added when still looked hesitant, “they know how to find both Embo and myself.”

Marrok squeezed its way through to give Sachi one lick in farewell, causing her to giggle. Ben was relieved that she still could.

Embo stood over Sachi and said something. Marrok yipped and an anooba barked, and Solaris told him, He’s telling her not to open the door for anyone since he’s the only one who has the key.

“Once we leave,” Ben told her, “don’t open the door for anyone else. Embo’s the only one who has the key and- maybe you could send Marrok in first?” he asked the Kyuzo.

Marrok perked up eagerly, tail wagging. Embo huffed in amusement, thumping a solid hand on its back.

Sachi smiled timidly. “Take- take care, I guess,” she mumbled. “I’m sorry I couldn’t help more with- with Zam Wesell.” Her voice dropped to a whisper at the name of her attacker, and the anooba she was clinging to let out a low, protective rumble, settling even closer and wrapping its tail around her.

She probably was older than Nest and Bo, but in that moment she didn’t look it. Ben thought of his vod’ike and their lust for life, and the way Kitster built ridiculous contraptions to enable them. Or maybe it was the other way around: Kitster built and Bo enabled, but none of them had ever been so downtrodden and defeated, not even when Kitster had been newly freed from a slave auction.

“You helped plenty,” he managed, and mentally nudged the pack to keep an eye on her. One heavy head rose, a disgruntled look on its face as if it thought him silly to even have to ask.

Ben followed Embo and Marrok outside and 2 anoobas trotted after him, shaking loose their coats. Embo stared down at him, an unimpressed look on his face.

“I don’t like collateral,” he said flatly. “To me, a sign of being professional is having as little collateral as possible. It’s unrealistic to expect none at all, but- it’s always worse when it’s a non-combatant.”

Embo spoke. She worked at the Bounty Hunters Guild. She isn’t as untrained as you think, Solaris told him.

Well, then, she shouldn’t have looked like what the tooka dragged in.

“Let’s just agree to disagree on this,” he replied.

Embo snorted and then turned. Follow me.

The Kyuzo was startlingly stealthy for a 2m tall being in a rather conspicuous hat and poncho, blending in seamlessly with the crowds and the general dank atmosphere of the Lower Levels. He made so many abrupt turns, ducking and weaving through so many groups of people that if Ben weren’t using Manda to keep track of both him and Marrok, he would have long lost them.

The anoobas, unsurprisingly, had no trouble keeping up with them, even darting forward to keep pace with Marrok and leaving him by his lonesome self.

The dha’kad’au just sniggered at him, the prat.

Nearly an hour later, they drew to a halt in front of a tattered building, utterly identical to the tattered building right beside it. They’d gone down several levels and the miasma of despair was stronger here, and it wasn’t just a stink that his buy’ce couldn't filter out.

Embo gestured at the building and then uncovered a hidden access pad by the ramshackle door, removing a slicing wire from his utility belt and connecting the pad to his comm.

Eval’s Box, Solaris needlessly translated, its presence almost hesitant.

The first hallway reminded him of a quarantine corridor, bone-white, utterly sterilised, and pristine. Then they pushed through the heavy translucent flimsiplast strips that separated the spaces, and Ben nearly threw up in his buy’ce.

This. This. His buy'ce couldn't filter this. Undoubtedly, this was where Reeft had died. By Manda’s sake, that was his blood still spattered all over the floor. The anoobas refused to budge from the quarantine corridor, whining and licking at each other.

Whoever you really are, Mando, you have now gotten further in this investigation than the Jedi have in months.

Ben laughed bitterly. “Their code would never have permitted them to bargain with you like this. Besides, I can’t imagine that they have anything you would want - that they would also willingly part with,” he added because he knew the way talk shop went, particularly on Coruscanta.

Embo let out an amused sound and beckoned for Marrok to step up beside him.

I do not help Jedi.

Ben laughed again, and the sound grated in his chest. “Trust me, I don't exactly feel very charitable towards them, either.”

He took a breath in a vain bid for calm.

“Vor entye, Embo, but I’m afraid I need privacy for this next part. I’ll be in contact with the details of your additional payment, as well as the comm ID of a a group of Hounds who will see you safely to Phatrong.”

The Kyuzo glanced over at where the pack anoobas were straining towards Marrok, letting out little whimpers and whines at each other. Ben didn’t need Solaris to translate this.

“I’ll ask,” he promised. “Besides, regardless of what becomes of the pack after this, I’m going to want visitation rights at the very least, and I think Sachi will, too. Good hunting, Embo.”

It was a risk to be so openly dismissive, but all Embo did was tip his hat at him. Marrok let out a yip, and then they were turning to leave. Distantly, Ben heard Marrok and the pack say their farewells to each other, but his attention was entirely focused on the crystal fragments dumped for scrap on the floor.

Carefully, he knelt beside them, tugging off his gauntlet. Even the usually opinionated dha’kad’au had fallen silent, nearly vibrating where it rested against him.

Pain. Despair. Regret.

“Yeah,” Ben whispered. “I-.”

The only reason why he wasn’t sent reeling, overwhelmed by memories, was because the dha’kad’au had slammed their own shields around his mind. The secondhand experience was still enough to steal his breath.

Reeft’s lightsaber had been cracked apart to bear its heart after its owner’s death. The last touch it had felt was one full of smug superiority from a rather familiar Chagrian face before it had been crushed underfoot. Ben’s veins burnt.

Here and now, Solaris insisted, its mind flaring with Light, beating back the despair that crept around the edges of his vision. His bare palm scraped against the unfinished duracrete floor. His breathing was raspy in his ears, washing damp and humid within his buy’ce.

The dha’kad’au twined itself around his mind, and Ben pulled out the small synthsilk pouch it had favoured for years and tipped it out onto his palm. Its crystal was as unchanged from the first time he’d seen it, Dantari grafted with Ghostfire, almost ethereal in its beauty.

Ben held it to his kar’ta beskar.

“Vor entye,” he rasped, only for dha’kad’au to rap his mind as if he were a misbehaving ad. What was his was the dha’kad’au’s, too. Your triumphs are mine. Your losses are mine. Your vod’e, it insisted in a rare stream of words, are also mine.

“Greedy shabuir,” he chuckled wetly, clutching at it. “Vor entye nonetheless.” He touched it to his kar’ta beskar again and then to his buy’ce, where he would rest in kov’nyn with another vod, before slipping it into one of the hidden pockets sewn into the inside of his belt.

Then, he turned back to the shards of Reeft’s crystal, offering it the dha’kad’au’s emptied pouch.

“I’m going to need you,” Ben muttered, and was comforted by the ever-present rumble of the dha’kad’au in the back of his mind and Solaris’s bright, bright Light. It would be easy for Solaris to douse Reeft’s broken crystal in its Light and bring it peace, but it wasn’t its place. Ben drew a deep breath, and then wrapped the shards of Reeft’s crystal up in Manda and urged them into the pouch. It was- difficult to not get caught up in the crystal’s shattered memories of pain and death, but the dha’kad’au’s oppressive presence kept him afloat until he could release the shards and pull the pouch shut.

He sprawled backwards, utterly exhausted, but he wasn’t done yet. He did not want to hold onto Reeft’s crystal any longer than he had to. For that matter, Reeft’s crystal certainly didn’t want to stay, even if it did extend to them a reedy note of gratefulness for its retrieval.

“I’m going to be running on autopilot a little,” he admitted, clumsily pulling on his glove before crawling to a wall, using it as support to clamber upright on trembling knees. The weight of his beskar’gam had never felt so heavy before. From near the entrance, the twin anoobas whined loudly.

“I don’t suppose one of you could get the Guard?”

He blinked when one of the anoobas peeled off from its brethren. “Consider me pleasantly surprised.”

He managed to stagger his way back outside before he lost the battle with his roiling stomach, struggling to pull off his buy’ce in time before vomming out everything he’d eaten that day. The bile burnt his throat coming up and he snivelled miserably, gagging at the sour taste. The remaining anooba whined, nosing at his ankle. He raised one hand to wipe his mouth and stared.

There were little dried rust-brown flecks on his gauntlets and bes’lovik, standing out against his black plates. Ben just couldn’t bring himself to look away from them.

The dha’kad’au nudged him, hard. It didn’t like the Jetii, but it didn’t like how Reeft’s crystal was affecting him even more. He drew in a deep, shuddering breath and dug out his canteen to wash out his mouth with what water was left, wiping it blearily before putting his buy’ce back on. He nearly gagged again as his buy’ce flooded with his stale vom-breath, and quickly activated the internal filters.

This way, Solaris chimed loudly in his head, in tandem with the anooba unsubtly herding him along. Ben closed his eyes and went.

Chapter Text

He didn’t know how long he’d been forcing one foot in front of the other until hands suddenly appeared in front of his face. Ben jerked back, going for his blaster, but the shot went awry, splashing harmlessly on the floor. He would have gone for Gwet Ordo’s besbe’trayc next if Solaris hadn’t shrieked in his mind. In contrast, the dha’kad’au stayed pointedly silent.

“Adika? Are you back with us now?”

He panted heavily, blaster in one hand and the other on one of his hilts. When he remained still, the being in front of him powered down their bright white electrostaff.

“Enfys?” he asked blankly. “What the kriff are you doing here?”

“Who’s Enfys?”

“Got the first aid kit? Although I don’t know how you’re going to pry that armour off to get a look at what’s underneath.”

“I mean, we’ve all seen what’s underneath- face-wise, at least.”

“Ugh, you and your Human-centric beauty standards.”

“You’re plenty beautiful, too, Terik. I’ll help you groom later to prove it.”

“Oh, by the Force, save your flirting on your own time.”

…that sounded bizarrely like a conversation he would have heard any day among the ori’ramikadyc, mentions of the Force aside. With effort, he dragged his focus back to the present, only to blink in confusion.

“Who are the kriff are you?”

The Humanoid man in front of him clicked his tongue. “You didn’t think we’d come in our armour, did you? Clanking around in the Lower Levels is a sure way to tell Coruscant and the Order at large that something’s up.”

He stared at him blankly.

“Enough.”

A Humanoid woman stepped forward, but the one who’d spoken was the…white rabbit on her shoulder.

“I am a Kushiban,” the rabbit said in reply to his unasked question, their long ears twitching when Ben continued to stare.

Finally, he shook his head in an effort to clear it. “I didn’t mean to be rude. I’ve never met a Kushiban before.”

They come from Kushibah, Solaris told him, in the Gordian Reach.

That was out on the Rim, but Mando’ad were more familiar with the Yavin Bypass in that area.

Kushibans are a largely insular species, Solaris added.

Like the Shard? he teased.

“The anoobas said you called for us,” the woman said, drawing his attention. He glanced over at where the pack were milling around her, snuffling wetly at her knees.

“Vor’e,” he said to them.

“Adika.” His head lurched as he unconsciously tried to follow the sound of his name. “What is it?”

Ben wasn’t certain which one of them had spoken but he fumbled to pull out the synthsilk pouch anyway. It felt like a great relief off his shoulders when the woman took it.

“These are the remnants of Reeft’s kyber crystal.”

A few other Guards had crept out of the woodwork and, to a one, they all jerked to a stop. The woman looked horrified and nearly dropped the pouch. Ben flinched as the jetiise’s feelings rattled through Manda before they remembered themselves- and their shields.

“Please get it to his Teacher,” Ben ground out. “He wanted- he wanted-!”

“Adika.” The first man who’d spoken caught his elbow, propping him upright. “How did you find it? How did you know to come here?”

Ben looked him full in the face. “My contact came through for me and found Reeft’s- I found where he died.”

Someone inhaled sharply. He flinched again, one hand rising to his temple.

“Don’t send someone with psychometry,” he mumbled. “It’s- that he didn’t die immediately makes it all the more distressing.”

“That’s what happened to you, isn’t it?” the Kushiban said shrewdly. They had leapt the short distance to land on the male Guard’s shoulder, fluffy tail coiled around his upper arm for balance. “That’s why you’re so rattled.”

If he’d been alone in his head, he would have succumbed to the psychic echoes of Reeft's death throes that still lingered in that space, radiating pain and suffering into the Force. Thank Manda for the dha’kad’au and Solaris, he’d needed them both to keep his head screwed on.

“’Lek,” was all he could manage.

“Is there somewhere safe we can take you?” they asked. “I don’t think you’d like us to take you back to the Temple.”

Ben couldn’t hold back a derisive snort. The man in front of him didn’t look impressed.

“I’m not hearing any other alternatives from you,” he retorted.

Inside his buy’ce, Ben closed his eyes. Solaris gave him a tentative nudge.

“We need a place to debrief, too,” he muttered.

“I’m still not hearing any other alternatives than the Temple,” the man said bluntly.

Ben sagged against the very helpful wall at his back. “The 500 Republica.”

The man’s eyebrows raised. “You made nice with Organa while no one was looking?”

One corner of Ben’s mouth quirked up. “Let’s hope that he’s more forgiving than you.” He shoved himself upright with effort, only for the man to click his tongue, irritated, and drag an arm over his shoulders.

“Vor’e,” he murmured, and then turned to look at the rest of the Guard. Jetii, like Mando'ad, were hardly uniform so it made sense that the Guard followed suit: apart from the 2 Humanoids and the Kushiban, there was also a Wookie, a Beskalisk, and a-. His breath caught.

The Dressellian woman nodded cautiously at him in greeting. “You knew Reeft well.”

“I told you, he was my contact.” His tongue felt numb in his mouth.

She hummed. “It was thought that I’d be able to help reconstruct what happened.”

Ben grimaced. “I don’t envy you,” he said. “That-.” He shook his head. “I could barely stand to be in there.”

The Dressellian nodded. “Noted, Adika.” Then she looked at the other woman who’d gone down on one knee, all the better for the anoobas to swarm her. “Hermine?”

The woman rose to her feet, smiling fondly at an anooba when it whined plaintively, pawing at her knee. She ruffled its crest and scratched beneath its heavy jaw. Ben almost felt apologetic about his next words.

“The anoobas will be able to find their way back but they won’t go all the way in, not that I blame them. You ought to be on your guard. It’s one of Moralo Eval’s contraptions called The Box, and it was specifically built to keep Reeft trapped in there and unable to escape.”

Both women stiffened, wearing similar fierce expressions, and the Beskalisk looked grim. “Moralo Eval?” the Dressellian hissed. "Isn't he supposed to be rotting away in maximum security?"

“Someone got him out of prison for a reason,” Ben replied. “That’s a part of the debrief we need to get to.”

“We’ll deal with Eval if he shows up,” the Beskalisk declared, their bottom set of hands stroking the unlit electrostaff hilts that hung past their muscular thighs. The Wookie let out a soft, guttural roar of agreement. Ben’s Shyriiwook was rusty, but he could feel their shared bloodthirstiness in Manda.

“And even if he doesn’t,” Hermine added, and then whistled for the anoobas to form up around her. “Let’s go.” She turned to leave, but Ben lurched forward, the man barely managing to catch him and shore him upright against the wall.

“Reeft’s crystal!”

The Wookie’s face softened, and they made a reassuring chirr. The Dressellian began to translate but even if she hadn’t, Solaris would have.

“We will get it to Master Ibes, never you fear. For this you have our gratitude, Adika.”

“...good hunting.”

The other Guards left with one last nod, the pack crooning out a farewell. Ben stared blankly after them until the remaining man cleared his throat.

“You ready to go?”

Ben sighed. “Elek; vor’e.”

“I don’t speak Mandalorian,” he grumbled, but started walking, anyway. He sounded quite tetchy, but his presence in Manda was calm and cautious.

“Is there something I could call you?” Ben asked. “Guard 1 and Guard 2 would be quite rude, even for me.”

The man snorted while the Kushiban let out a hoarse wheeze that apparently passed as a laugh for them. Neither of them seemed bothered by how the Kushiban’s front paws were delicately balanced on the top of the man’s head, hind legs settled on the opposite shoulder Ben was hanging off of.

“I get to be ‘Guard 1’,” the man sniffed.

“Juniors first,” the Kushiban teased, tapping the side of the man’s head with one soft paw. Their ears had grown fawn-coloured tips.

Kushibans have ‘mood fur’, Solaris explained. It changes colour based on their feelings.

What does fawn-colour mean?

Instead of answering in words, a steady warmth began to grow in his chest and he slumped against the man’s shoulder, causing him to stumble.

“Some warning would be nice!” he yelped.

“I didn’t mean to,” Ben muttered, prodding mentally at Solaris. “That was unexpected for me, too.”

“Terik,” the Kushiban said after a few minutes. “You may call me Terik.” They tapped their hind leg on the man’s shoulder. Ben couldn’t see his face from this angle, but he suspected he was rolling his eyes.

“I’m Aalto,” he huffed, his voice still cross.

Ben shrugged. “You already know my name.”

“Do we?” Aalto retorted.

“It’s a title I’ll answer to. That’s what a name is, isn’t it?”

Aalto continued to grumble under his breath. His buy’ce could pick it up but Ben didn’t bother trying, more focused on putting one foot in front of the next.

“Have you thought about how we were going to haul your dead weight into the 500 Republica?” Aalto asked. “Neither of us are in our Guard uniforms, and it’s not as if that place sees a lot of Jedi visitors. Well, not the legitimate kind, anyway.”

“Sex work is a legitimate occupation,” Terik said mildly, but the way their whiskers were twitching and their ear tips had lightened to yellow were a clear giveaway of their amusement.

“Laugh it up, you overgrown rabbit,” Aalto huffed- and Terik did, the sound of their hoarse wheezing at odds with their adorable appearance. Aalto felt smug at the sound, though, and Solaris radiated a gentle contentment at this quiet pocket of joy after the misery of Eval’s Box.

“I’ve always been able to sneak in unnoticed,” Ben said.

“I imagine you were more able-bodied when you did so,” Terik said, sounding a little apologetic for it. “When we reach the 500 Republica I will go ahead and scout, but we are Guards, not Shadows.”

“I appreciate it nonetheless,” Ben said softly. While he had sent the pack for the Guard, he hadn’t really thought beyond returning Reeft’s crystal to them. And even after the Jetii had come, he could only be grateful for their patience with him. They could have demanded more answers while he was vulnerable- about Reeft, about his intentions, about his self. Ben wasn’t certain if he would have been so conscientious and not pressed every advantage he had in their place.

“You appreciate it enough to answer a question or 2?”

The dha’kad’au raised its hackles at Aalto’s tone, but Ben coaxed it into standing down.

“Ask your questions,” he said evenly.

Aalto’s shoulders shifted as he hefted him up more securely. “You’re Force-sensitive, and not just the kind that gets prompts about harvest yields.”

It was Ben’s turn to bristle as the dha’kad’au chortled at him. “Don’t belittle harvest yields to a farmer.”

Aalto’s shock rang out loud and clear in Manda, and even Terik’s ears were twitching, not unlike a Twi’lek’s lekku.

“Look, it can’t have been that unexpected if you’ve been keeping an eye on me,” he said, exasperated. “I haven’t been shy about making my occupation known. Narec, Koon, and Nu all know I’m a farmer, and by now the Council probably does, too.”

“You are Mandalorian, though,” Terik said, curiosity colouring its mind and its ears a vibrant leaf-green.

“I don’t know if you’ve noticed,” he drawled, “but beskar is hardly edible. Besides, agriculture is a very major concern for Mando’ad, or have you forgotten the Dral’han? I know we haven’t.”

“The what?” Aalto asked blankly.

“Maybe you know it better as the Mandalorian Excision. As if Manda’yaim were a cancerous part of the Republic they simply felt like amputating. As if Jetii were tools to be used to effect such a reckoning.”

Aalto’s temper was building, but Terik thumped their hind foot on his shoulder in a manner that reminded Ben of Yoda doing much the same with his gimmer stick.

For that, he casually added, “I am not unaware of ner violent history, of course. Mando’ad had a reputation as warmongering conquerors, a reputation that was well-earnt.”

“Then-!”

Terik thumped their hind leg again. Their ear tips had fallen still, the green of their curiosity having darkened to a troubled grey.

“Regardless of what the Mandalorians had or had not earned, the Jedi do not condone preemptive genocide,” they said. “We gave up our armies after the Ruusan Reformations for good reason and fear should never have led to our dealing such a heavy hand, even against our purported enemies. And you know what Master Yoda says about-.”

“Fear leads to anger, anger leads to hate, hate leads to suffering,” Aalto recited in a sing-song tone. “Honestly, why that wasn’t in our examinations instead was always beyond me. We would’ve all aced it.”

Terik laughed, ears relaxing with restored good cheer.

“Maybe that was why,” they replied.

“Was that your question?” Ben asked.

“No,” Aalto said crossly, “I haven’t asked it yet. What I was trying to say was that you’re strong enough in the Force to benefit from formal training. You should’ve pinged on someone’s radar - a Jedi Watchman? Or someone on a Finding mission?”

“I’m still not hearing a question. I can hardly account for Jetii missions in Mando’ad space during my childhood."

Aalto made an impatient noise, but Terik’s ears were brightening to yellow again, exuding amusement in Manda.

“Fine, maybe it isn’t a question. What I’m trying to say is that you could’ve been a Jedi.”

He had to bite back his immediate rebuttal and remind himself of the good will the jetiise had extended to him. The dha’kad’au twined itself around his mind, purring possessively.

“What I’m hearing is that you believe being Jetii would make me better than being Mando’ad.”

Terik’s ears twitched tellingly. “I’m certain that’s not what Aalto meant. Is it, Aalto?”

The man let out a huff. “I wasn’t trying to imply anything,” he groused. “I just wanted to put it out there.”

“I’m quite happy as Mando’ad,” Ben replied evenly.

“But- your Force-sensitivity. You’re really content with using it as a farmer?”

Terik thumped their hind leg down hard enough for Aalto to wince.

“Have Jetii evolved past the need to eat?”

“No, we have not,” Terik said sharply, their ears darkening once more.

“I just- it’s not a matter of better or whatever,” Aalto insisted. “I just- don’t you want more?”

Ben drew to a stop, forcing Aalto to do so as well. “Is this question for me or for you?” he asked quietly, and then immediately started moving again.  

“Maybe when I was younger,” he admitted, “a lot younger, when I didn’t know what the galaxy was like or how it worked. Now, all I want is for my corner of the galaxy to be happy. Not at the expense of anyone else’s, but I’m certainly not looking to make everyone happy. That’s just asking for more trouble than it’s worth.”

Apparently his words gave the jettise enough to think about to stay silent until the Republica, which was when Terik nimbly hopped off Aalto’s shoulder, their white fur now mottled grey. The dha’kad’au was still curled around his mind in an almost proprietary manner - he was not just ad be’Mando’ad, it reminded him, he was ad be’Mand’alor. To put everyone first was to put no one first.

“I still can’t tell what you’re after,” Aalto muttered. “We’ve spoken to Narec and Nu and we can all feel your impact on the nexus-.”

“Just to clarify,” Ben interrupted, “I had very little to do with the nexus. I wasn’t even the first consultant to say there was something wrong. I just wouldn’t stop asking questions that made the Council face up to some rather uncomfortable truths.”

“But you’re a Mandalorian helping Jedi,” Aalto pointed out.

“Never you fear,” he retorted, “my people know exactly where I am, what I’m doing, and who I’m doing it with.”

Aalto snorted. “So we’re not going to get a fleet of Mandalorian Supercommandos testing Planetary Defence, claiming we’re holding you hostage? That’s always good to know.”

“But you’re also right,” Ben added. “I’m not here for you Jetii or your nexus. It was a convenient excuse that granted me access to where I wanted to go, but I would have been on Coruscanta regardless.”

“It’s Reeft, then,” Aalto said with unexpected certainty. “You came back for Reeft.”

Ben didn’t reply; he didn’t feel like he had to. Just then, Terik bounded back, taking one last Manda-assisted leap to land on Aalto’s shoulder, their tail looping around the back of the man’s neck this time.

“I don’t foresee any trouble getting you into the Republica,” they reported, “the corridors are deserted. It’s the security cams that are going to be the problem. There aren’t large enough blind spots for Aalto and you to avoid detection.”

“I don’t think we can,” Ben sighed. If Aalto let go of him now, he’d slide down the wall and be forced to crawl back to Bail’s flat. “I really, really hope the Senator will be forgiving when this mess drops into his lap. Maybe he’ll have some ideas of how to spin this to make it work for us. Will your loyalty come under question for being caught assisting a Mandalorian? I wouldn’t compromise you in such a manner.”

“Our identities are secret,” Aalto drawled, “even to our Temple brethren. The few who could pick our true faces out of a line-up wouldn’t question us, or if they did, would at least be willing to hear us out before throwing any stones.”

“Metaphorical, I hope.”

“Well, yeah. Throwing literal stones is boring, even for an Initiates’ Force-game.”

Yes, he knew that. That was why Ahsoka had graduated from building different-shaped shields to flinging herself out windows (or getting flung out of them) and then catching herself with Manda.

(Khal nearly had a heart attack the first time that happened. Ahlora, on the other hand, had trilled out her excitement and thrown a party that very night.)

They made their way to Bail’s door and Ben tapped in the passcode, a little nonplussed to realise the man hadn’t changed it.

“Help yourself,” he mumbled, staggering away from the Jetii and careening into the wall.  “Glasses are on the top-right shelf; the tap water is potable. The tea set is above the fridge and the silver-tip is in the blue airtight container. I’m just- I’m just going to-.”

“It’s like you never even left,” Aalto muttered, but agreeably made his way toward the kitchen with Terik on his shoulder, the Kushiban’s nose twitching as they eagerly sniffed the air.

Ben left them to it and struggled into the spare room, only to fall to his knees the moment the door locked behind him. He fumbled off his buy’ce so he could bury his bare face in his hands and- he couldn’t scream, not with the Jetii outside, but the swell of grief he’d been holding back to this moment finally broke. His heart hurt.

And yet, despite how his eyes burnt, they remained dry. He’d made himself a promise- a dumb one! came Bant’s sharp voice in his head- that he wouldn’t cry for Reeft, not until it was all over. His vod deserved better than his making decisions while being emotional compromised. Or rather, being even more emotionally compromised than he already was.

“Nu kyr’adyc, shi taab’echaaj’la. Nu kyr’adyc, shi taab’echaaj’la,” he mumbled to himself. Not gone, merely marching far away. He could only cling to that thought with greedy desperation while the dha’kad’au crooned a song of vengeance in his ear.

Ben smeared a gauntlet over his hot, dry face, chuckling wetly. “Not helping, you horror.”

It had gotten him out of his head, though, the dha’kad’au said smugly.

I do not know your ‘vod’, Solaris said, but I agree with this Bant. Anyone who calls themselves your ‘vod’ would wish for your well-being.

“My being will be well once Reeft gets his justice and is laid to rest.”

Solaris felt distinctly unimpressed with him.

A light tap-tap-tap on the lower part of the shut door had him turning.

“Adika?” came Terik’s kind voice. “Are you alright? You felt…distressed in the Force.”

Ben sighed, gently removing Solaris’s crystal from his neck and letting the Shard settle itself back into its droid body.

“I’m fine,” he croaked out, and then cleared his throat. “I’m fine,” he repeated, and then pushed upright. He was steadier on his feet now that he’d bled the worst of the emotional excess off, not that it was a true replacement for a mir’jahaal’tsad or even meditation, but it was the best he was going to get right now.

He didn’t replace his buy’ce; there was no need, given how the Guard had already seen his face at the Temple. There was a steaming teapot on the caf table scenting the room with the comforting fragrance of silver-tip. Surprisingly, Aalto was back in his full Temple Guard regalia complete with mask, although Terik maintained their delicate perch on the man’s shoulder.

“How-?”

Frowning, Ben walked up to Aalto to prod him in the opposite shoulder.

“Ow!” Aalto exclaimed with no real heat, his voice once more modulated so as to be interchangeable with any of his Guard brethren. Ben openly rolled his eyes.

“Your beskar’gam is real,” he said, “but the only beskar’gam you were carrying earlier was mine. Not to mention how you all wear the same gear but you hardly have the same mass.”

Even Aalto’s presence in Mando felt more contained and muted, but Terik’s pride and satisfaction rang out clearly, unmasked as they were.

“We can’t let the Mandalorians have all the fancy armour,” they teased, before leaping onto the caf table and landing with soundless feet. He supposed he could let them have their secrets, given how he was hardly going to mention Pong H’narr’s and Kitster’s innovations, either.

“Shall we?” Terik asked, their tail brushing against the teapot.

“Elek,” Ben murmured, taking a seat across from them. What a bizarre place to be in, having tea with 2 jetiise in Bail’s flat. As if on cue, Solaris trundled out of the spare room, whistling out a greeting.

“So many questions about you,” Aalto grumbled, lifting his teacup to his mouth and- what the kark, he drinking straight through his mask and the tea wasn’t spilling. Ben was going to blow Kitster’s mind when he told the ad this.

Terik curled around their teacup, fur rustling at the warmth as they took small, savouring sips.

“I doubt you’ll tell us half as much as we'd like to know since you’ve been so careful to keep this under wraps up to this point. But no matter what else about your persona is feigned, your droid’s Lightness cannot be.”

Ben craned his neck to look at where Solaris had toddled over to the side of his chair, extending his hand in an offer. It looked at him, considering, clicking thoughtfully before hopping into his palm. Ben snorted.

“Want a bit of a dunk?” he teased. “I’d think it a bit of a waste of good tea but I daresay Bail might let you get away with it-.”

Solaris bleated at him reprovingly. Ben snickered, setting it at his side as he floated a teacup into his hand. He drank deeply, letting the warmth of the tea wash down the lingering turmoil and quieten his mind.

“Right,” he said. “Shall we begin?”

Terik sat up, tail curling over their paws as they looked at him over the rim of their cup. “Reeft,” they said gravely.

Ben took a single, even breath. “As I told your brethren- or perhaps I said this to you, too- I’ve been searching for the ones who hired the beroya’se.”

Terik flicked their ears, the tips of which had bypassed the soft rose of amusement to bleed a warning scarlet.

Kushiban are herbivorous, Solaris said cautiously.

Could’ve fooled me, he replied. Aloud, he asked, “How has your internal investigation gone?”

Terik looked away, their fur mottling grey again.

“It’s not the easiest thing,” Aalto said, “looking your brethren in the eye and knowing one of you-.”

“Elek,” he sighed, “aruetii are the worst. In all honesty, that’s why I need to bring Bail in,” he said. “Reeft’s murder was a cover up for what he found not only in the Senate but in the Temple, too.”

Both Aalto and Terik went terrifyingly still.

“You know who did it,” Terik said softly. “You know why.”

There was not point hiding it now. “I do.”

Aalto surged to his feet. “Then why-!”

Ben refused to be intimidated. “First of all, because I’m not here to tell you your answers. Second of all, I told you: I want the big fish. As much as it pains me and frustrates me to say, Reeft’s murder isn’t about him anymore. It's not even about corruption in your Temple. That he died and the manner of his death is indicative of the systemic corruption at the very heart of your government.”

“That’s-!”

“Your Republic birthed demagolkase like Palpatine. So the kark what?”

Terik frowned, their fur bristling. “I beg your pardon?”

“So. The kark. What? What has changed about your system apart from Senators claiming they’ll never be like him? All you are doing is digging up old skeletons. Where are the reformations? The revolutions? The restitution? Reeft was tortured in an effort to find out what he had discovered and killed not in mercy, but as an afterthought. So what did he die for?” he demanded, gesturing the teacup roughly back onto the table before he accidentally broke it.

“That’s- haven’t we covered that already?” Aalto sputtered.

“Nayc, you don’t even realise it,” he snapped. “I know what he died for. I know what his death meant to me, who he died to protect. Do you?”

Solaris trilled, hopping up onto the armrest and releasing a pulse of Light. Ben subsided, and Aalto dropped back into his seat. Terik had turned almost completely grey, jumping the short distance to land in Aalto’s lap. The man cupped his hand around the tender curve of their spine, and their tail hooked around his wrist.

Solaris whirred, hunkering down over its feet. Ben sighed, lightly stroking its chassis in apology.

“I might not have meant for our conversation to grow so heated, but my questions were sincere.”

“I hate to admit it,” Aalto said tersely, “but you’re right. No one’s even tried reaching out to the former Republic worlds.”

No one save Bail and Naberrie but even then, they had only done it on his instigation, after he had arrived with that datachip full of holos from Collective Senators.

“Reeft was meticulous. Kind,” Terik said softly. “If he had found out about these injustices, he would have told someone. Or- tried to,” they amended, ears drooping.

"You and your fish," Aalto muttered.

Terik's ears suddenly perked up. "You leveraged Mandalorian protection for information on Eval's Box, didn't you?" they asked shrewdly. "Those bounty hunters aren't even on Coruscant anymore, are they?"

"I don't know where Eval is," he said, and let Manda ring with the truth of his words. "As for any others - does it really matter? Do you not agree that the information was worth it?"

"There's no good answer to that and you know it," Aalto bit out.

Ben inhaled, leaning into the dha’kad’au’s implacable presence to bleed off some of the grief that had swelled in his breast. He could attend all the mirjahaal’tsad sessions he wanted to once he was home. Khiyosh could ground him in the medbay and he could cockblock Komari, even recruit the Opress vod’e to help him since Maul, at least, seemed like he could use a session or 2 himself. For now, though-.

He exhaled, letting his presence scatter and dissipate into Manda.

Aalto’s head snapped around and Terik’s tail immediately puffed up. “You’re-!”

He kept his breathing steady, letting Manda and his connexion to the dha’kad’au buoy him.

“Elek?”

Aalto shook his head and Terik trotted in a circle to settle facing out, watching him with sharp brown eyes.

“It’s not just your armour that makes you feel funny in the Force, then? Some of us were wondering if you really were Force-sensitive, no matter what you’d told Narec. That level of control, though…” He shook his head. “And you’re a kriffing farmer.”

Ben raised his eyebrows. “Are we going to get into that argument again?”

Terik thumped their hind leg before Aalto could reply. The man let out a sigh. “No, we won’t. That's not something Jedi learn."

"I'd guessed not, given how Narec reacted when I did this in front of him," he said. "Still think I need to be a Jedi?"

He had a feeling Aalto was scowling at him from behind his mask, but Terik croaked out another hoarse laugh. "Maybe that's a sign that more Jedi should go out into the field."

Ben inhaled past the flutter of Manda that had his heart double-beating.

A soft chime had them all stilling, but it wasn’t the door. Aalto raised one of his arms to tap at his comm unit, only to freeze.

“Well. That attempt at subterfuge didn’t last long.”

“What is it?” Terik asked.

Aalto turned his mask to him. “It’s all over the media outlets: a Mandalorian was seen entering Bail Organa’s rooms in the 500 Republica.”

Terik’s fur ruffled, standing on end, their ribs speckled with a dozen different colours. “No mention of either of us?”

Aalto shook his head.

Ben sighed. “I’d best get a start on my apologies to Bail,” he murmured, tapping at his own comm.

“I thought you said you didn’t have a permanent ID.”

Ben snorted despite himself. “Honestly, I’m surprised you let me get away with that lie. How else was Narec going to contact me?”

“Ha! I told them you were lying!”

Terik batted at Aalto with their front paw. “Benefit of the doubt,” they chided, before turning to pin him with a rather reproving stare. “But you will give us your comm ID now, won’t you? Adika.” Despite their words, it wasn't actually a question.

The dha’kad’au bristled at their tone while Solaris radiated amusement.

“I expected that request from you much sooner,” he simply replied and rattled off his ID. The secondary one, at least. “I wonder how Bail will take it,” he mused.

Solaris pressed its head into his hand. He is a good man with a good heart, aided by people who are quick as a whip. It sent him the memory of a young bespectacled woman with tan skin, her wild hair covered by a headscarf. She spoke to Bail in dust-dry tones, punctuated by the rapid tapping of her fingers on her terminal.

“He’s one of the better politicians,” Aalto admitted, begrudgingly. “Still a politician though.”

“The better question is,” Terik said, side-eyeing him, “why him?”

Ben raised an eyebrow. “Why indeed. I told you, Reeft’s death wasn’t just murder.”

“He got too close to the heart of corruption,” Terik thought aloud. “Did Palpatine-?”

“But Reeft died before Palpatine,” Aalto pointed out.

Terik flicked their tail. “Palpatine was hardly the one running his administration, just the one at the head of it.”

“We’ve all heard Amedda’s excuses,” Aalto muttered darkly, “but it’s been half-a-year and the Chancellorship is still empty. Every time a vote comes close to being called, the Senate gets scheduled for recess and the entire exercise starts all over again.”

That was an interesting bit of information. He gave Solaris a gentle nudge.

Bail has been more occupied with the information you’ve given him, Solaris confessed reluctantly, almost apologetically. There is a lot of it and there are only so many hours in a day. He and his allies are erring on the side of caution; they know they need incontestable evidence.

Ben could almost hear Bail's cultured tones in Solaris's mental voice. It whistled, toddling nervously from foot-to-foot.

Shard don't speak the same way, it mumbled. It had grown even more fluent and verbose after its stint with Bail.

It was hardly a criticism, he assured it, patting its chassis.

"That's not Binary," Terik remarked, unconsciously echoing their brethren during their very first meeting.

Ben smiled, continuing to pet Solaris. "No," he agreed, "it's not, but Solaris has no problem being understood.

“Before you get it in your heads,” he continued, “I could not care less about the Republic and who leads it. I don’t live here; I am neither a citizen nor subject to your laws. Solve your own problems; I have enough to handle with the Mando’ad.”

He did not bother to elaborate just how many in the Outer Rim considered themselves Mando’ad now.

Aalto openly rolled his eyes. “You say poodoo like that, but you’ve been sitting on evidence of Jedi and Senate corruption for months.”

“Nothing in this galaxy is free,” he retorted. “I'll tell you what I'll tell Bail: what I have is confirmation. Can you seriously hinge an investigation of this such magnitude on Mando’ad intelligence here, in the heart of your Republic?”

“But it’s not Mandalorian intelligence,” Aalto wheedled, “it’s Reeft’s, which makes it Jedi.”

“It started as Reeft’s,” Ben acknowledged. “He didn't manage to get as far as he would've liked. The scope of the information I now have at hand greatly outweighs the original reports he started with. Oh, I’ll hand it all over eventually, don’t you worry,” he added when Aalto made as if to protest. “But not before you make headway in your own investigations. I am here to help you join the dots, not wipe your shebs.”

“I don’t even know what that means and still feel insulted,” Aalto muttered.

Terik patted his thigh in comfort. “We know Reeft was investigating the Jedi Treasury. The record logs are…numerous, though, and Reeft was the most familiar with their organisational structure. After his death and Master Sifo-Dyas’s resignation, they’ve fallen by the wayside.”

Osik. Ben did not want to feel sympathetic for the jetiise.

He sighed. “I am stonewalling you on purpose,” he admitted. “The Senate investigation must finish before the Temple investigation begins in earnest: I am baiting a trap which I fully expect to be sprung. The Senate is the root of the sabotage, anyway. We're talking about someone who managed to get Moralo Eval acquitted of his crimes and released from whatever hole he'd been stuffed into - Eval, who was pronounced guilty of murder, torture, and sentient abuses in...8 different systems that I can think of, and that's just off the top of my head. I don't think it's a stretch to question the source of those recent Senate assassinations, either."

Aalto's stare was palpable against the side of his face. "Naberrie and Organa? Wasn't that you at Organa's assassination attempt?"

He smiled. "Was I? I'd heard it was a jetii."

Aalto tossed their head. In Mon Calamari and Nautolans and similar species whose eyes were all pupil without sclera, that was their equivalent of rolling their eyes. For that matter, Mando'ad showed their skepticism and disdain in a similar fashion, too.

Ben snickered. "Regardless," he said, "once their aruetii is identified, I fully expect your aruetii to scramble to cover their tracks.”

“And in doing so, expose themselves,” Terik murmured. “You are leaving quite a lot of things to chance.”

“Hardly chance,” he returned, “but sentient nature.”

“Implying your belief that sentients are self-serving by nature,” Aalto said, sounding unimpressed.

Ben smiled faintly. “Not in the least,” he said, thinking of the many freed slaves he had met over the years and helped rehome. Of the planets who had taken a chance on their new immigrants, sharing their culture and offering them compassion. Of the fear and wretched confusion he had seen melt into a brittle, confused hope as they slowly learnt true safety and stability.

“You don’t make any sense,” Aalto complained.

“Not all sentients are the same,” he replied. “But I think the heart of what most people want is happiness for themselves and their families.”

“That simple?” Aalto asked, plainly disbelieving.

“But what makes one happy differs from sentient to sentient,” he pointed out. “For example, a full harvest and a full table of ner aliit to enjoy it with makes me very happy.” He looked expectantly at the jetiise.

Terik’s tail swept over Aalto’s thighs, and they settled their chin atop their paws. “I do not want to lose another of my brethren,” they confessed quietly.

Ben shook his head. “But what makes you happy?” he gently pressed.

They flicked their eyes, their fur rippling fawn and warm blush. “The Guard,” they admitted, “together, implacable, standing as one. We are-.” They shook their head, unable to continue.

Aalto laid a hand along Terik’s back. “We are,” he agreed, voice hoarse despite his vocoder.

“And you?” Ben asked.

The hand on Terik’s back spasmed slightly.

“...I want to be seen.”

That was ironic, given the mask he was currently wearing, marking him as yet another anonymous member of the Guard. Ben suspected that if another of their number turned up in full regalia, he actually might lose track of which Guard was which. Haar’chak, if Terik just put on whatever Jetii technology that allowed a Kushiban and a Human to appear identical not only in appearance but to the touch as well...

Their discipline was a testament to their training. Ben was certain Przekiel would have a thing or 10 to say about what it did to their sense of self, though.

“The Temple Guard is not meant to be seen,” Terik said quietly.

“Nonetheless, you exist. You are,” he insisted. “Even among Mando’ad, no one buy’ce is interchangeable for another. So, why-?”

Terik pushed upright, their swishing tail betraying their agitation. “It is a practice that we maintain among the Guard,” they replied. “Nevertheless, we will take your concerns under advisement.”

Ben supposed that was the best he could hope for. It wouldn't be fair to subject the jetiise to the Mando'ad standards of conduct, no matter how much it rankled.

Beside him, Solaris straightened, letting out a trill of welcome. Aalto’s mask was tilted towards it.

“Organa’s on the way, I take it?”

Ben could recognise the feel of the man’s mind now, too, drawing closer as he hurried off the elevator and down the corridor. He felt frazzled and anxious, and Ben felt almost sorry for the added weight he would be subjecting the older man to.

“Yes,” he murmured, “he is.”

Chapter Text

The poor man was clearly frazzled as he entered his flat, only to stop and stare at the party occupying his living room. Solaris’s whistle of greeting jolted Bail into movement, and he hesitantly stepped forward.

“This is- quite a surprise.”

“Welcome home,” Ben said quietly.

Bail’s gaze settled on his face. “I didn’t think I’d see you again,” he admitted. “When I saw the headlines, I'd hoped-.”

Ben raised his eyebrows. “Even knowing what else those headlines bring?”

Bail’s chin firmed, and he removed his antidote rings, signalling that he was truly settling into his home. “Perhaps I wasn’t expecting things to quite come at a head so soon, but given the progress we have made, the intel we have uncovered, I knew it was only a matter of time.” Bail exhaled shakily. “That you’re back here,” he added, “means that you’re not…averse, to working together again? I- I owe you an apology-.”

“I was being sensitive, too-.”

“-so sorry, I shouldn’t have-.”

“If you’re going to keep going,” Aalto drawled, “can we at least get some bangcorn?”

“Oh, by Manda,” Ben muttered, scrubbing at his face.

“It’s not like I asked you to stop,” Aalto said snidely.

Bail looked at the Guard uncertainly. “I suppose that answers my question as to whether the Jedi know if you’re a Mandalorian or not.”

“Some of them do,” he admitted.

“Is our presence necessary?” The question came from Terik, who was tilting their head curiously at him.

Ben mulled it over. “I’m not certain that a Jedi presence would help at the moment. The Council’s honest reaction might do more to sell this case than anything else.” He paused, and then asked, “What does your Force tell you?”

“What does your Force tell you?” Aalto retorted.

Ben snorted, leaning back in his chair as he prodded at both Manda and the dha’kad’au. “Not yet,” he decided. “But when it is, I’ll know where to find you.”

“And we’ll know where to find you,” Terik said as they pushed upright, as affirming as it was menacing. Ben really wanted to know what technology would lend a Kushiban and a Humanoid the appearance of exactly the same mass. Kitster would, too, once he heard about it. And even if he could guess that the Guard had all trained to feel a particular way in Manda, the discipline to be absolutely indistinguishable from any of their brethren was admirable. It was only because Aalto and Terik were allowing their personalities to emerge that he could still tell them apart.

“There is one thing I could use your help with,” he added. “Bail will have to answer the accusations levelled against him in front of a full Senate.” Ben looked at the man. “I imagine that  you’ll be levelling a few accusations of your own.”

Bail nodded grimly. “That was the plan, yes.”

Ben nodded his understanding, and then turned back to the Guard. “Could you ensure that any suspects awaiting trial are remanded at the Temple, given the Jetii's political neutrality and the temple's security?”

He felt more than saw Bail give a start at his words.

“This isn’t out of concern,” Aalto thought aloud, “never mind that the Coruscant Guard accepts just as many bribes as the Senate.”

“You’re baiting a trap,” Terik said softly, “and you intend to use the Senator who hired the assassins to do it.”

“I have the utmost confidence in your ability to save their skin,” Ben replied. “If worst comes to worst, I’ll dig out every last scrap of intel I promised you from their carcass anyway.”

“We could simply read Reeft’s crystal,” Aalto pointed out. “Any Jedi who does even a cursory reading of it should be able to uncover a fair few things- all of which you’re hiding.”

Ben openly rolled his eyes. “Of course we can admit testimony from a semi-sentient rock into court,” he retorted, ignoring the rumble of the dha’kad’au working itself into a right proper strop. “Oh, yes, your honour, these shattered pebbles are telling me that said sentient is guilty of blackmail, extortion, treason against the Republic, accessory to murder-.”

Aalto muttered a curse beneath his breath, knuckling at his mask. “Well, if the rock declares it to be the case.”

“It’s enough for anyone Manda-touched,” he conceded. “Force-sensitive, whatever. But we’re going to need harder evidence than that, especially given how half the Senate thinks that jetiise are full of hocus-pocus mumbo-jumbo mystical osik.”

“I wouldn’t have put it quite so bluntly,” Bail protested, “but unfortunately, Adika isn’t far off. Most Senators don’t have any true understanding of the Jedi and your connexion to the Force, and I'm afraid sentiment against you has been turned by the very public blackout you suffered at the Senate all those months ago, least of all because no official reason for your collapse has been released."

"There are too many esoteric details for Master Nu to release her report in full," Aalto replied, "and no one needs to be getting ideas. But we can submit a request for a declassified brief, although getting one of the Councillors to address public sentiment will be like pulling teeth. Maybe even less pleasant," he added in a mutter.

"Are there senators who would advocate for the Jetii?" Ben asked Bail.

The man looked cheered. "If we could get earlier access to the report? I'm certain Bel Iblis can think of a word or 10 to say; he's been chomping at the bit to really sink his teeth into something." 

He smiled, amused. "Isn't that what the investigation I dumped on your lap for?"

Bail huffed, running a hand through his hair. "My lap," he pointed out. "You've given me the dubious honour of spearheading this whole countersuit, not least of all because of the revelation of my 'association' with Mandalorians. Bel Iblis and Mothma are helping to coordinate with the senators in our block, but the outreach for new allies has to start with me."

"Ba gedet'ye," he replied with his sweetest smile, utterly unrepentant when that had the older man flushing. Aalto's expression was hidden behind his mask, but he didn't bother hiding how unimpressed he felt in Manda.

Bail cleared his throat, trying to regain his composure. "Naberrie's initial reports-." He paused when Ben raised his eyebrows pointedly. “Fine,” he sighed, “Padmé’s last reports from Naboo are promising. She should be concluding her investigation of Palpatine’s Estate soon.”

The Guard stiffened at the mention of Palpatine, which- well, Ben couldn’t blame them, given the dar’jetti’s plans for the Jetii.

“Will copies of those reports be made public?” Terik asked.

“That, and more,” Ben promised.

Terik nodded. “We will discuss this with our brethren,” they said.

“We shall,” Aalto agreed, pushing upright to stand in a mirror-image of Terik, and then they nodded to the same exact degree and left.

Bail stared after them. “I don’t think I’ve ever heard a Temple Guard speak.”

“Those spoke too much,” he muttered reflexively, then sighed, scrubbing at his face. “Nayc, that’s me being ungrateful. I wouldn’t have made it back here without them.”

He felt Bail creep closer. “I…am glad that you came back. I would- I would like to genuinely apologise for my parting words, it wasn’t just insulting to you, it was rude of me, too, to make such baseless assumptions-.”

It sounded like Bail had been saving up his words, but he had to interrupt. “Were they really baseless, though? Mando’ad have a reputation for a reason.”

The man muttered out a curse, dropping heavily into his usual armchair. Solaris let out a reassuring whirr, and Ben peeked through his fingers to see Bail offer up a tired smile, hand held out to it. Solaris chirped, leaning forward to bonk his hand with its head. Ben hadn’t meant to leave the Shard behind when he’d left Bail’s flat, but he could be glad for the relationship that they’d formed without him.

Bail sighed heavily. “I know you’re playing devil’s advocate, but we ought to present a united front. We’re going to get more than enough of that from our allied senators, let alone the official inquiry that’s going to be launched.”

Ben opened his mouth to reply, but his heart suddenly lurched in his chest. His control wavered, and Solaris let out an alarmed trill, covering for him and protecting Bail's mind as he lashed out in reflex. His bond with Quin had twisted in a way that- wasn’t unrecognisable, but something had happened, something big. His komr’k was already dialling Quin’s comm code before he could even look at it.

“What happened? Adika, what happened?” Bail demanded.

He couldn’t find the breath to answer, especially when Quin’s comm wasn’t connecting. Quin? Quin!

His Force-presence reacted weakly in a way that told Ben he was unconscious. Ben exhaled, knuckling at his eyes.

A gentle hand settled on his shoulder. “Adika?”

Ben bit back a whimper at the compassion leeching out of Bail. “I can’t lose someone else,” he whispered.

The hand on his shoulder tightened slightly. “Is it a Force thing?” Bail wasn’t speaking to him, though, and he heard Solaris let out a concerned whistle. The dha’kad’au coiled around his throat, pulling his head up.

Kovid laam, sur’haai tenn, it ordered. Head up, eyes open. They were still only halfway through.

“We have…bonds,” he rasped, “with those close to us, and one of them just-!” He couldn’t say the words and wouldn’t say them because he didn’t know for sure.

“Would you like a hug?”

Ben squeezed his eyes shut. “…yes, please.”

The hand left his shoulder and he almost wanted to protest, only to startle as Solaris was set on his lap. The Shard huddled close, radiating a peace he wished he could feel on his own. Then the sofa beside him dipped and that hand returned to his opposite shoulder, attached to an arm that cautiously draped itself across his back.

He could tell that Bail was as worried about overstepping as he was concerned, but he wasn’t just a good politician, he was a good person, and that was why the Collective had named him as their champion without question.

“Is your friend alone?”

No, but it wouldn’t do to worry Bo prematurely about more jetii osik she couldn’t do anything about. His mind shied away from the inevitable conclusion that something must have gotten past his buir to get to Quin, given how he and Tholme had made Quin swear to defer to Yan. Maybe Quin had acted rashly and had gotten in over his head- but that was hardly a comforting thought, either.

“I don’t want to distract their team,” he muttered, shaking his head. “I’ll try comming them again in a bit.”

“But they are still alive? You can feel that much, yes? Are they hurt?”

“Alive, yes. Hurt…I’m not certain. He’s unconscious.” Ben offered his end of the bond to Solaris and the dha’kad’au, asking if they’d felt anything like it before.

The dha’kad’au hissed like an agitated tooka. Definitely a Force artefact of some kind. Given their luck and where Quin had been, the odds were high that it had been a Dar’jetii artefact.

Solaris, however, wasn’t so sure.

I do not feel anything innately Dark about what happened to your friend. Maybe the artefact has been used for Sith purposes in the past, but in and of itself is but another vergence in the Force.

“Sith?” Bail asked. “As in- the Jedi’s Sith?”

“Dar’jetii,” he agreed. “I sent him on an investigation, and now he’s-.”

“You cannot blame yourself for your agent’s condition,” Bail told him fiercely.

“Don’t you?” he challenged, looking up with a glare.

Bail held his glare with an equally fiery gaze. “There is a reason why any specific agent is chosen for a specific mission - because their abilities were best suited for it. You cannot take responsibility for their actions while they are in the field; you trusted their judgement enough to send them out in the first place. Don’t belittle their choices after the fact, Adika.”

Ben looked away. He wasn’t a leader or a commander. At the very most, he was an intel broker, supplying intel to those who could make the most of it. And the fact that this 'agent' in question was his vod-.

“I don’t- usually do this sort of thing,” he muttered.

“I’d guessed,” Bail replied dryly. “You did say you were a farmer. Are a farmer?”

He thought of that peaceful morning he’d shared with Nield on Melidaan. Of his greenhouses on Manda’yaim that Ahsoka was helping care for. Of the many trips he’d taken to the farthest flung corners of the Outer Rim and felt life churn beneath his hands.

“I am,” he belatedly replied.

“Who do you blame when your crop fails?” Bail asked.

“Is that a trick question?” he demanded. “Myself, of course.” There may be a dozen different factors involved, but once he'd worked out the proper application of Manda, Ben had never had a crop fail on him.

“Espionage doesn’t work like that,” Bail replied. “Every agent steps onto the field having been told of the risks.”

“You can’t tell me what not to feel,” he huffed, “I can’t switch it off.”

“In this line of work, you must learn to.”

Ben scowled down at the top of Solaris’s head. It had hunkered down in the scant space between them, optical sensor idly scanning them both. “Things would be so much easier if I could just kill everyone I needed to and call it a day.”

Bail choked.

“All I need is my conviction,” he continued in a mutter, “not more of this skulking about.”

“I…can see the resemblance.”

To who? Before he could clarify, his komr’k rang. Ben saw Bo’s name on the dial and immediately stuffed his buy’ce on, leaving Solaris to make his excuses for him.

“Bo? What the kark is happening on Naboo?” he demanded. “Is Quin alright? Our bond went all weird and is still acting kind of funky-.”

“Our bond hasn’t been active since we were crechemates, Obi-Wan.” He couldn’t help but recoil at hearing his full name from Quin, the Younglings more commonly defaulting to ‘Ben’ or ‘Obi’. Even through the long-distance holo, he could tell that Quin’s body language wasn’t what he remembered from Melidaan.

“Also,” Quin hissed, looking hunted, “what’s with all the Mandalorians? I thought you were done chasing Kryze’s skirts.”

Ben’s mouth fell open, and his eyes met Bo’s over the holo, where she was visibly trying not to gag.

“That’s disgusting!” they both snapped. “I would never-!”

“Methinks,” Naberrie interrupted slyly, “that the Mandalorian doth protest too much.”

Ben ruthlessly suppressed the urge to spit; Khiyosh had spent too long training that reflex out of the Young. By Manda, it wasn’t as if Ces and Nield hadn’t given him enough grief about Bo when they’d been going together, never mind that Bo had always been verd’ika, then vod’ika to him. They had, in essence, been raised together as they had learnt the Resol’nare and (re)discovered Mando’ad culture, either reconciling or rejecting the detritus in their pasts.

No one had understood family baggage quite like Bo, even if the Jetii had disavowed him.

“I can’t wait to tell So’ika,” Komari cackled, eyes crinkled to slits as she laughed.

“Don’t you dare!” they shouted, which just made her laugh harder. Ben might’ve been glad his ba’vodu was in better spirits, but not because of this!

He turned to the main instigator. “Senator,” he said flatly.

Naberrie smiled like a lie. “I’ve been quite honoured by your assistance, Adika.”

Ben rolled his eyes. “You have a funny way of showing it,” he muttered, only to feel Solaris gently nudging at him in question, its inquiry tinged by Bail’s concern. He sighed, brushing back a scant reassurance. “I would advise you to return to Coruscanta as soon as possible, or find a secure manner to transmit the intel you acquired from Palpatine. Bail will need it; there’s been a bit of a…situation.”

Naberrie’s expression spasmed a moment before she lifted her chin and nodded. “Noted, Adika. Thank you for the update.”

“Obi,” Quin interrupted, stepping forward, “what’s going on? The year’s wrong, nothing’s right, and the Force is so Light. Force, Obi, even Dooku’s Light!”

Oh. Oh. Oh, Quin.

“You know what he’s talking about.”

Ben looked at Yan, who was resting in a medbed across from the one Naberrie and her flock of handmaidens were occupying. His eyes still looked sharp despite how worn the rest of him appeared. While it was a relief to have eyes on his buir, it was equally galling to remind himself that there was nothing he could for either of them now. Ben glanced at Bo and Enfys, the verd’e nodding without him even having to get the words out. There was nothing he could personally do, but he could trust that his buir and his vod were in good hands as they escorted them back to Manda’yaim.

“I had a vision,” he said. “You did, too, buir; Sy told me.”

“Someone’s been telling tales,” Yan grumbled.

“Obi!” Quin whined. “What the kark is going on? I can feel you all except Reeft. Where’s Reeft?”

Ben felt gutted by his words, his mind involuntarily flashing back to when he’d retrieved the shards of Reeft’s crystal. He suffered a moment of that depressive ache only for the dha’kad’au to shriek, yanking him out of the spiral before he could truly get stuck in it.

Vor’e, he managed, before turning back to the comm. “That’s a conversation we ought to have in private, Quin,” he croaked. “Bo, can he borrow your comm? Or Enfys, is there another terminal you can set Quin up with?”

“He doesn’t deserve to borrow my comm after saying osik like that,” Bo sulked.

He wanted to scrub at his face but he still had his buy’ce on. “What am I saying, you have your own unit, Quin,” he muttered. “I’ll comm you, and then we’ll see about getting a line through to Tholme. He’s actually waiting for your comm, but he’d hang up on me if I tried.” Not to mention Aay’lika’s response once word of this got out. Tholme still hadn’t forgiven him for sending him to Naboo to clean up Palpatine’s osik in the first place.

“Enfys, could you show Quin to a private room?”

“Obi-.”

“Come along, Quin,” he murmured, staring at a stranger in his old friend’s body.

“I’m going to come in and check on you,” Enfys threatened, jabbing a finger into Quin’s chest before shutting the door. One corner of his mouth twitched as he watched Quin rub at his chest, scowling at the closed door.

“They mean well, Quin,” he softly coaxed. “They’re looking out for you and Yan’buir where I can’t.”

“I am the last person that needs to be looking after, and Dooku is the lastest of the last that needs to be looking after,” Quin pouted, almost sounding like himself again.

“What happened, Quin? Was it Palpatine?”

The man looked up sharply and Ben was abruptly reminded that this wasn’t his Quin, never mind the physical similarities.

“Yes, what was that about the Supreme Chancellor and your part in his murder?”

Ben raised his eyebrows. “Do you actually care?”

He saw Quin’s fists clench, although the bandaged one flexed, only to relax. “I may have plenty of faults, but I am still a Jedi.”

“That was never in question,” he lied, “but it’s different if you’re asking because you’re doing your duty as Jetii, or if you genuinely think that demagolka was worth more alive than dead."

Quin scowled. “Palpatine’s always been a bit of a shit politician, but what the kriff did he ever do to you?”

Ben folded his arms across his chest. “He cloned ner ori’vod without our permission or knowledge, tried to enslave ner ad’e, cut off ba’vodu’s legs, tortured ner bu’vod, had whatever osik in his Estate to make Yan’buir look the way he is and turn your head upside down, left this mess on Coruscanta that I’m stuck cleaning up, and that’s just me, personally.”

Quin’s eyes had grown bigger and rounder the longer he’d gone on.

“I- what?” he asked weakly.

“Look, is it so hard to believe?” Ben demanded. “You were in his karking house and experienced his osik firsthand.”

Quin flinched at the reminder. “The Sith we were searching for in the war- it was really Palpatine? We suspected they had an agent high in the Senate- that was the only thing that could explain the compromised intel, but- the Chancellor?”

Ben took a seat on the sofa as he waited for his old friend to come to terms with this information. “…how much do you remember from my Quin?” he asked.

Quin glanced up, met his eyes, and then blushed. Oh. He’d thought their one talk about this had been one talk too many, but-.

“Do we need to talk about this, Quin?”

“No. Yes. No. I mean-!”

He couldn’t help smiling. “Would you like to try that again?”

Quin scowled at him in an attempt to cover his embarrassment. “I don’t- there are so many things I don’t understand,” he whined. “How did you- how did we- there are so many things that there are different and so many things that are the same and so many things that could’ve gone the same way but-!”

“I do wish I was there,” he murmured. “I wish we were all together again. I think we need that, just to recover and learn to stand down again.” Bant and her young Quarren, and Fisto, all 3 of them having held down the fort for him here on Coruscanta. Siri, the familiar face coordinating with the Collective on his behalf while on Pantora, so utterly relieved to be away from the Senate and the happiest he'd ever seen her. Garen and the remaining members of his corps had been folded in with the Skyskippers on Manda’yaim. Even Quin- his Quin- had had a few scant months of recovery on Melidaan with Tholme and Aayl’ika before Ben had swept him up in Dar’jetii osik.

Quin swallowed loudly, his eyes growing red even through the holo. “Reeft?”

“I will see justice done,” he swore. Speaking of which, he really ought to get Hardeen, Embo, and Sachi off-planet before the Jetti recovered enough to start poking around where he really didn’t want them to.

Quin smeared at his eyes with his uninjured hand. “I don’t doubt it,” he rasped.

“How are you, Quin?” he asked.

The Kiffar exhaled heavily, sprawling across one of the booth seats. “There’s a galaxy-wide war going on, and more than 200 of us were killed in the opening salvo.”

Ben lurched forward. “You’re not leading a corps or anything like that, are you?”

“No, it’s bad enough that the Senate conscripted the Jedi as Generals but at least the Shadows…” Quin was saying as he shook his head, his locs spilling over his shoulders. Ben was a little dismayed to see how they were already starting to look dry and frizzy. Maybe he could offer to teach Aayl’ika how to retwist Quin’s locs in apology for sending him away from her and landing him in this state.

“...and then you were assigned the Third Systems Army as High General-.”

“What the kriffing kark?”

“What’s the big deal?” Quin retorted. “You’re a Mandalorian, you shouldn’t be surprised by this-.”

“I’m a farmer!” he snapped back. “I am not al’verde- I have not been al’verde since Melidaan and my subsequent breakdown, vor entye!”

Quin recoiled, opening his mouth again, only to pause. Ben watched his throat bob as he swallowed, uneasy.

“Melidaan,” he repeated.

Ben’s mouth twisted. “I take it that needs no explanation.”

Quin had gone pale even though the osik comm connexion. “He was a general in charge of child soldiers as a kid, and we made him do it all over again.”

“That is a conversation you will need to have with your own Obi-Wan,” Ben said firmly. “I cannot speak for him, given our different experiences.”

Quin ran a hand over his locs, thoroughly mussing it. “Force, okay. 2 things.”

“Name them.”

“How can we get me back, and how much intel can you stuff in my brain before then?”

Ben grimaced. “I don’t even know how you got here, Quin,” he said. “If you asked me about regreening drought-stricken lands or- or aeroponics irrigation solutions, I might have some ideas. Manda is- a tool, a mode of communication.” He covered his hip where the dha’kad’au sat in one of his belt pouches, absently soothed by its bristling protectiveness. “If you want to talk Manda theory, Yan’buir would be a better bet, especially given how he actually witnessed whaever happened to you in Palpatine's Estate. Even better if you could find the patience to return to Manda’yaim; both ba’ji Tholme and Sy are there, too.”

Quin’s shoulders sagged. “Tholme’ll be a comfort,” he mumbled, “but- Sy? Who’s that?”

“He was previously on the Jetii High Council, Sifo-Dyas.”

“What?”

Ben cocked his head. “He is buir be ner ad’e, I must have mentioned him.”

Quin’s gaze grew distant as he tried to process, before he groaned, rubbing at his face. “This feels like an Obi-headache,” he muttered.

“An Obi-headache?” Ben repeated, lifting an unimpressed eyebrow.

“An Obi-headache,” Quin grumbled, “inexplicable, sudden, and utterly unrepentant.”

He thought about it for a moment. “I object to ‘inexplicable’,” he said. “Nothing about how Sy’s arrival on Manda’yaim or how we will raise warriors together is inexplicable. Sudden, ‘lek, but neither of us are feeling particularly repentant about ner ikaad’e.”

“Cody and Rex, though,” Quin mumbled. “That’s just the weirdest thing.”

“Is it?”

“No, Sifo-Dyas- well, Dooku being all- and you-.” Quin deflated with a sigh. “Well, that’s not quite true, I suppose. You’re still recognisably you, and Dooku didn’t stop being a snobby arsehole just ‘cause he’s in the Light. It’s just a little weird, like. You know how people say that they’re shaped by events? That’s exactly it. Because I- kind of know what happened to you, I can kind of see how my Obi turned into you.”

Ben wrinkled his nose. “From what I’ve Seen, I wouldn’t like to turn into him.”

Quin sighed. “No, I don’t think anyone would. He’s done his best with the hand he’s been dealt, though, and he’d be the first person to say it’s not been all bad.” Quin sent him a look that spoke volumes. “It won’t surprise you to know that he’s quite good at making the best out of shite conditions.”

He leant against the back of the sofa, tipping his head over the edge. “That is a talent,” he allowed, “but I’m not your Obi-Wan. That said, it doesn’t really sound like much of a way to live. Maybe to survive,” he added with a shrug, not that Quin could see it.

“He’s never said anything,” the Kiffar mumbled.

“He doesn’t sound like the sort of person who would.”

Quin stared down at the space in front of him.

“Quin, that wasn’t a complaint or criticism,” Ben said. “Look, this is me talking about a person I’ve only Seen in visions. You said you could see echoes of us in each other, but we aren’t the same person. I don’t actually know him or how he feels or what he’s experienced, Quin - you do.”

Scratch using anoobas as translators; talking about an alternate Jetii version of his self with an alternate Jetii version of Quin who was still in his Quin’s body absolutely took the uj’alayi.

His friend still looked lost, though. Ben could only be grateful for Solaris’s interruption, a polite little rap for attention against his mind.

Solaris?

Bail is going to bed, but he wanted to check if you were alright.

“Oh,” he murmured. He had been unfaily rude to the Senator of late.

“Obi? What is it?” Quin had gone on the alert again.

He sighed, waving away the worry. “I’m crashing at Bail’s flat on Coruscanta, and I left our conversation quite abruptly when you commed. Or rather, when Bo commed on your behalf.”

“Bail Organa?” Quin asked, sounding curious.

“You know him?” he asked, pulling off his buy’ce as he rose to his feet.

Quin wiggled his hand. “So-so,” he said, “but he’s always been a good friend and a better ally to the Jedi, and having Alderaan as a backer is nothing to laugh at.”

Bail was still in his armchair, Solaris perched on his knee, radiating comfort in Manda. They both looked up, Bail appearing relieved at the sight of him.

“Solaris said a friend of yours was in trouble. Are they alright now?”

“Heya, Senator,” Quin drawled, even as Ben tapped at his komr’k to project his appearance.

“Master Vos!” Bail exclaimed, sounding genuinely cheered. “Are you also one of Adika’s contacts? Solaris mentioned you were in trouble. Do you require any assistance?”

Ben hadn’t known Bail and Quin knew each other, even if this wasn’t the same Quin he might have known, but he was comforted by Bail’s ready offer of assistance.

“Nah, I’m all set for now,” Quin said. “Talking to- Adika, was it? Helped to screw my head back as straight as it ever is.”

Bail smiled. “Which means not at all then, Master Vos," he lightly teased. "The Senate’s been a quieter place without you popping up in inconvenient places and asking even more inconvenient questions.”

…that did sound an awful lot like Quin.

“If Quin’s behaving weirdly, it’s because he’s been up to Jetii osik,” Ben said.

Bail laughed. “As opposed to the rest of the time?”

And then Quin was laughing, too, the strain on his face easing. “You’re a sight for sore eyes, Senator. Pity you’re with that lump of metal instead of your vision of a wife.”

Ben rolled his eyes at Quin’s blustering, especially given how he couldn’t even get out the fact that they’d slept together. It had been nothing more than physical comfort between 2 old friends, even if their liaison had been unwisely under negotiated and open to misunderstandings, hence that Talk. If Quin didn't start behaving, Ben might have to subject him to a second helping. Nayc, he'd comm Ronei and request that she inflict a mir'baar'ur on him, someone who would be especially unimpressed by his antics. Przekiel, or maybe Nezra, if the Mon Calamari could be persuaded to check up on Khiyosh in-person.

“O-oh!” Bail stuttered, colour rising in his cheeks. “Adika’s hardly a lump.”

Quin’s eyes visibly gleamed with delight, and Ben sent him a pointed look. Quin and the Senator were talking of 2 entirely different people, and it wouldn’t be kind of Quin to tease him like that.

Quin let out a huff, but backed down. “Adika was just telling me about the mess on Coruscant.”

Bail sighed, running a hand through his hair, the locks grown lank with the hour.

“It’s not as if I’m not grateful for your information, Adika, but it is quite the mess, isn’t it? I suppose I ought not to be surprised that you’re involved in this too, Master Vos.”

Ben bit back his scathing response to Bail’s use of that title. It would have been hypocritical of him, seeing as how he hadn't said a word to the Guard.

“Come now, Senator,” Quin said with a lazy, laconic smile, “we’re all friends here, aren’t we? Vos is fine, or Quinlan, if you can bring yourself to manage it,” he added with a wink.

Bail’s answering smile took up a teasing edge, one which Ben hadn’t seen yet, given how cautious the older man had been around him. “I’m sure that between my queen and I, we can manage a syllable or 2.”

Quin laughed out loud. “That almost makes me wish I was returning to the Core with Amidala.”

Bail straightened as if shot, nearly toppling Solaris. He quickly caught the Shard, cooing an apology as it chided him with a chirp. Then he turned back to the holo. “Amidala- you’re on Naboo with Padmé?” he demanded. “You sent him?” He looked at Ben.

“And some others of ner aliit,” he agreed. “I told you, Palpatine’s Estate wasn’t safe.”

Quin sighed, a rasp of static through the comm. “No, it wasn’t, not for Ami- sorry, not for Naberrie and not for the Jedi.”

“I spoke with Naberrie briefly,” Ben told Bail quietly. “She will be returning as soon as she can. I didn’t get into any details, but she understands the urgency.”

“Part of which is your fault,” Bail pointed out, but at least he was still smiling.

“I would have liked to give you more warning,” Ben replied. He looked at Quin with tired eyes. “I got a lead on Reeft and it landed me in my own pile of Jetii osik. The Guard were able to assist me to returning here, but discretion was left by the wayside."

Bail looked at him worriedly, his fingers tightening on Solaris, who let out a scolding whistle. “Oh, Solaris, I am sorry,” he mumbled. “Still, though. I think you ought to blame Adika for constantly alarming me.”

“It’s nothing serious,” he said apologetically, “maybe I should’ve started with that. I wasn’t in a great condition- psychic echoes, you know?”

“Um, no?” Bail asked.

Ben chuckled wearily. “Just take my word for it. It’s hardly fun, but I’ll get my own head screwed back on over the next day or 2. As mentioned, the Guard were kind enough to help me back to the 500 Republica, but we clearly weren’t as discreet as we would’ve liked.”

“You should go meditate,” Quin said abruptly.

He blinked. “Quin?”

“To get your head screwed back on,” Quin continued. “You should go meditate.”

“I’m not the only who could use some meditation, you hypocrit,” he pointed out.

“Don’t worry about the Senator and me,” Quin said loftily, “I’m sure we can think of a way to entertain ourselves.”

“The Senator needs to sleep, as do you,” he retorted when all Bail did was blush. “Not to mention, this is a private line, not a secured line.”

“I’m sure we’ll figure something out,” Quin said with a smirk, but Ben started when he felt a tug at their wonky bond.

Well. He clearly wasn’t going to get anywhere appealing to Quin, so he turned to Bail. “You can say no,” he said. “You honestly do look like you could use some rest, and you’re more than welcome to ignore his ridiculousness,” he added, leading by example and ignoring Quin’s outrageous pout.

Bail smiled at them. “It would be a relief to talk to a friend after the day I’ve had.”

“See?” Quin wheedled, the small holo figure of him preening.

Ben sighed, reluctantly amused despite himself. “If this is what you’re like on holo, I’d hate to see you both inhabit the same space in the flesh, never mind throwing your queen and Naberrie in the mix.”

Bail sniffed. “Breha would never deign to be thrown.” He paused. “Depending on her mood, Padmé might, though.”

"And depending on who's doing the throwing?" Ben snorted, shaking his head. “And that’s my cue to leave before you both give me a headache.” He looked at Solaris. “Would you like to join me or chaperone this tomfoolery?”

He chuckled at the protesting outcry from Bail and Quin, both of whom looked to be in far better spirits than when his respective conversations with either of them had started. Solaris let out an amused trill, carefully hopping the short distance between Bail’s knee and the coffee table.

“I’ll send you Quin’s comm code, then,” Ben said, “and you can ‘figure something out’ on your own time. Goodnight, you 2.”

He sent a fond pulse down his bond with Quin before picking up Solaris and returning to the spare room, the droid beeping out a goodnight of its own.

Should he be more worried about how Bail and Quin were clearly angling to intel-mine each other behind his back, particularly since neither of them were the versions of themselves they remembered? Well, given how Manda felt just as amused by their antics as he was, he was sure it’d be fine. Eventually. At least, it wouldn’t be his problem till the morning, and he would at least be better rested. There was also a faint hope that by then, they could also go on to be someone else’s headache, not his.

“Thank you for looking after Bail,” he murmured to Solaris, setting the droid down and then removing his armour in a neat stack, retrieving Viszla’s holocron where he’d hidden it in one of the cushions to tuck it behind his hal’cabur. The dha’kad’au perked up.

“Would you like to stay with it?” he asked.

The dha’kad’au pulsed at his hip. Ben shrugged. “Well, I suppose I could do that.”

He picked the holocron up again and sprawled flat on his back, setting the holocron on his chest and pulling the dha’kad’au from its pouch to sit alongside it. Solaris trundled up beside him, whistling a question.

“I suppose everyone has their own meditation habits, but this is mine.”

Coruscanta was a dead planet even compared to Manda’yaim, the only spot of green the Jetii Temple, but back home, he’d just lie in the soil among his plants and feel the sun on his face and every little spark of Manda around him. Here, he had- the dha’kad’au purring on his chest like a contented tooka, Viszla’s holocron pulsing very gently in the same rhythm, its feel in Manda almost familiar. And in lieu of the sun, he had Solaris, he supposed, whose Light felt very curious and kind.

“Tomorrow’s problems will be dealt with tomorrow,” he said. “I shouldn’t worry myself sick about it now.”

Are you really not bothered by what Bail and your friend might say to each other?

It wasn’t an accusation, Solaris’s question tinged with honest curiosity.

“I’m good at what I do, but no one’s good at everything,” he replied. “And like I told Quin, I'm not al'verd for good reason. There was- a skeleton of a plan when I first arrived on Coruscanta. Half of what I’ve planned hasn’t worked, and half of what has has worked in a way I didn’t expect. Sentients just aren’t as reliable as plants, you know?”

I’m not certain if I should be insulted.

Ben chuckled, allowing himself to relax that much more. Solaris sidled a touch closer, its head inclined toward his.

“I’m sure the both of them are furiously pumping each other for intel now that I'm not peering over their shoulders, or maybe they're furiously pumping each other in other ways. Maybe somewhere in betweel all that mess they'll even have managed to salvage the Tsad Droten. If they can do it, more power to them. I certainly don’t have the head for that sort of stuff.” He didn't care for it, either.

I’m not sure that’s true.

“You’re flattering me, Solaris,” he said lightly.

The only way you could have set the bait for your trap is to know what bait would have worked. Therefore-.

“You can be good at things you don’t want to be,” he interrupted. Ben was still very good at killing; it was a skill he hadn’t dared let himself forget. To make up for it, he’d worked very, very hard to try to be just as good at growing things.

Similarly, strategy was like sabacc, and Ben was very, very good at sabacc. Despite his complaints, he did enjoy his joyrides with Hondo, participating in this tournament or that. Those strategies were rather less perilous than the campaigns on Felucia, Taris, or, ka’ra forbid, Melidaan.

Solaris let out a low whistle, hunkering over its feet. I do not quite understand.

“I don’t, either,” he admitted. “Maybe it’s wilful blindness. I ought to talk to Sy about it, see if his visions have changed, given what’s happened to Quin. I do hope they’ll be able to sort it out, though. Sounds like Quin has a fair bit of sorting out to do from where he’s come from, too.”

Sort your own mind first, Solaris suggested, settling in to radiate Light at him like a Manda-powered night light.

With that, it was almost easy to sink into the deepest meditation he'd managed since landing on Coruscanta and letting Manda buoy him.

“I thought you 2 were supposed to get some sleep,” Ben said dryly in the morning when it looked liked Bail’s eye bags had doubled in size. Solaris let out a worried twitter, hopping close enough to nudge the man’s elbow.

“You said goodnight, not me,” Bail muttered, sparing the Shard a fond pat on the head.

“Clearly to your own detriment. I’m guessing Quin’s in as excellent a state?”

“I certainly can’t speak for him,” Bail grumbled.

“Whoever told you this was behaviour was cute lied, Senator.”

“My wife would never lie to me.”

Ben snorted. “It is cute that you think so. Are you planning to go into the Senate today?”

Bail sighed, listlessly stabbing the remaining morsels of hash with his fork. There had been nuna eggs, tubers, and cured meat in the conservator, so Ben had chopped up the tubers and the meat and bound it all together with the egg. Narec’s original recipe (from Padawan Ventress) also called for a finishing sprinkle of frog eggs for additional seasoning, but Ben decided to forego that this time.

“Manya commed at dawn and said it’d be best I lay low till the initial furore blew over. Manya’s my secretary, Manya Basu,” he added, as Solaris sent Ben the image of the young bespectacled woman from before. “She’s filtering my inboxes, but I can read headlines as well as the next person. Not much of it is good.”

“Not much doesn't mean not all," he said gently. "How will this affect your support in the Senate when you challenge Amedda?”

“A few lines need to be redrawn,” Bail admitted. “Your people’s reputation isn’t doing mine any favours, I'm afraid, least of all because Zygerria is still relatively fresh on everyone’s minds.”

Ben raised his eyebrows, unimpressed. “I’m hardly going to apologise for that.” Never mind that he hadn’t even been there.

“I- wasn’t asking you to,” Bail said slowly. “I’m not entirely sure how to feel about it myself.”

“That,” he pointed out with his fork, “is a a privilege.”

“I- I beg your pardon?”

“That you can take the time to consider the actions of others and deliver your own judgement, independent of the actions actually taken, that do not affect you physically or socially, that you are choosing to engage with on an intellectual and moral level- do you think the Zygerrian slaves had the time and wherewithal to do the same? Do you think they had the luxury of philosophical contemplation while they were being abused and tortured?”

Bail flinched.

“Talk all you want,” Ben said, “but to me, your voice will never be louder than a slave’s.”

“It’s going to sound like arrogance if I say I know how to allocate the resources they need to recover.”

“Not entirely,” he allowed. “It is to your credit that you have listened in the past and have continued to do so through the years. Alderaan has very good standing in the Freedom Trail, and I don’t doubt you and your queen have had quite the hand in it.”

“But?”

“But you have no right to judge my people for protecting victims where your Tsad Droten failed to do so.”

“I- intellectually, I suppose,” Bail said. “Personally, though, I-.”

“Mercy is a privilege,” Ben told him kindly. “Not many can afford to turn the other cheek. Personally, I’d rather slit a throat than keep a constant eye open. Setting clear expectations also let’s others know where they stand. If you are a slaver, I will kill you. If you are not, I won’t: it’s as simple as that.”

“Does- must everything revolve around killing?” Bail asked weakly.

“Get enslaved and then tell me how much an apology means to you. Honestly, I don’t know why we’re even having this conversation; it’s not as if slavery is up for debate.”

“But your response to it is?” Bail asked.

“I think that’s my question to you and your Tsad Droten,” Ben retorted. “Only one of us is breaking our own laws by letting slavers go unpunished.”

Bail sighed heavily. “There’s no winning this one, is there.”

“By debating the very nature of slavery, you are acknowledging that there are conditions under which slavery is permissible.”

“That’s not what I meant!” Bail protested. “I just think that wholesale corporal punishment for slavers is too-!”

“Too much? Really?” he demanded, unimpressed. “But wholesale corporal punishment for slaves is just fine?”

“That’s not what I said,” Bail grit out.

“Slaves are threatened, blackmailed, and press-ganged into service under literal threat of dismemberment and death, thanks to those handy-dandy slave chips,” Ben said. “Not all slaves are innocent, but no slavers are innocent: you can’t tell me someone’s tripped and ended up chipping another sentient by accident.”

Bail groaned, dropping his head into his hands. “This wasn’t what I planned on talking about.”

“No, and you’re clearly addled by sleep deprivation if you’re trying to debate slavery with me.”

Bail sighed. “Perhaps it’s for the best that I do stay indoors for the day. I imagine your night went far better than mine?”

The progress in Reeft’s case had been heartening, and lying down to start processing everything that had happened had done his mental equilibrium immeasurable good. His meditation last night was no true substitute for the warm soils and warmer sun of Manda’yaim, but it had settled him nonetheless, and he was far steadier this morning than he'd been in weeks. It helped that Quin’s bond, too, had stabilised, despite knowing that he and the Senator had been scheming. Yesterday, it had felt twisted and snarled; today, however, it felt like the tension was beginning to release. He wouldn’t know for certain until he spoke to Quin, but he hoped it was a sign that the ka’ra were watching over his journey back to Manda’yaim.

It also helped that Ben had actually finished all of his hash and was on his second cup of tea- a stronger blend that the gently aromatic silver tip he’d been drinking thus far.

“Elek,” he finally replied. “I feel more- grounded.”

Bail sighed, giving up on his hash and setting down his fork. “I’m glad one of us does.”

“Get some rest,” Ben instructed as he picked up Bail’s plate to put into the sink, “try and process. Talk to your queen and your staff. Naberrie may still be in hyperspace, but she’s on her way back to the Core, and you can start your plotting in-person.”

“Excuse you,” Bail huffed, only to be interrupted by an enormous yawn.

Ben smiled as Solaris whistled a reproachful note. “Do you need me to put you to bed, Senator?”

Bail sent a sleepy scowl his way. “That’s quite enough of that, thank you,” he declared as he pushed upright and made for his room. Unfortunately, he was hardly steady on his feet and nearly slammed headfirst into the doorway.

Ben sighed. “Could you make sure he actually gets into bed unharmed?” he asked Solaris.

The Shard let out a trill of agreement, hopping off the edge of the table and landing lightly with the use of Manda. Ben turned back to the dishes, absently following the trails of Light Solaris shed as it followed Bail into his room.

He wasn’t certain how sensitive the rest of the Younglings were to changes in their bonds, especially after the Jetii had begun to unravel Palpatine’s workings on their nexus. With Quin already on the way back to Manda’yaim, it would make more sense for him to comm Garen and Siri directly, which left Ben to cover Bant and Fisto here on Coruscanta. Maybe Llewyl, depending on how his conversation with Bant had gone.

He’d have to make the trip out of beskar’gam, though, which was a pain. And if he managed to squeeze in a trip to see Hardeen and Embo, he couldn’t even wear the Jetii robes, either. Spacer clothes it was, then, with one of those cold-weather full-coverage masks and a visor.

Kriff it all, he was going to look a right fool and Bant would laugh her head off.

…if word had gone round the Temple about Reeft’s crystal, she could do with a laugh or 5. He tapped a message to her, their comms far more secure now that they were on the same planet, and received a reply almost immediately.

He pinged Solaris for Bail’s condition, only for the Shard to hush him as it continue to coax the man to sleep. Ben’s knees buckled as he was hit by a wave of Manda-sent drowsiness, only for the dha’kad’au to flare at the affront.

“By the ka’ra, not in my head, you 2,” he muttered, trying to shake out the buzz of the 2 kyber crystals at odds with each other. “I need to go to the Lower Levels, though,” he continued aloud. “Would you like to stay with Bail?”

That I could be in 2 places at once, Solaris told him.

“Trust me, you’re not the only one who’s had thoughts like that.”

The Shard shuffled uncertainly, but in the end it was the dha’kad’au’s snide declaration that it was unnecessary that had it marching back into the living room, an unimpressed lilt to its head.

“Ner dha’kad’au is always petty, but aren’t you centuries past that?” he teased.

It beeped at him. I can’t help being influenced by those around me.

Ben chuckled, patting its chassis. “Alright, then. Let’s leave a note for Bail in case he wakes.”

Before they left for the Lower Levels, he made another couple of comms: first, to the Hounds in orbit, and then to Hardeen to let him know which Westport gate to wait at. Putting Hardeen in with the Hounds would help him acclimatise back to being around the verd’e. And if he were being honest with himself- Ben wouldn’t blink if anything happened to Hardeen and the Hounds returned to Manda’yaim one crew member short.

Ben left another note for Ton-Toln, letting him know to increase Embo’s cut and his justification for it, and that there’d likely be another passenger with the Kyuzo to Phatrong. Maybe 2, if Marrok also counted as a plus one. And…maybe to keep track of him, partly because Embo didn’t seem like the awful sort, and partly because Ben didn’t especially want the jetiise finding out about him and trying to kill him.

…was that incredibly duplicitous of him? Eh, it wasn’t like the beroya’se were his ad’e. He was only sentient and honestly couldn’t care less.

Solaris chided him with a gentle mental nudge, which the dha’kad’au took offence to. Ben interrupted before they could use his mind as another battleground.

All sentients may be equal, but that doesn’t mean I sill treat them equally, he told Solaris, and then pointedly punted them both out of his mind to continue their squabbling in peace.

He reached the port gate early earlier than Hardeen, giving him time to run straight into Ton-Toln’s arms. The Chalactan wrapped him up tight and squeezed, going so far as to drop a kiss on the top of his head.

“From gar buir’e,” he explained. “Both Dooku and Sy insisted.”

"You've heard from Yan'buir?" he exclaimed.

The Chalactan sent him a rueful smile. "He left that instruction with me before he left for Naboo."

Ben swallowed back his anxiety and tried to smile back. “Oh, so it’s ‘Sy’ now, but Yan’buir is still ‘Dooku’?” he teased weakly.

Ton-Toln rolled his eyes, flicking him on the forehead over the same spot he’d just kissed. “Don’t be a di’kut, ad’ika. Me vaar ti gar? This is a sad excuse for beskar’gam,” he said, tugging at Ben’s mask.

He pulled it down obediently, and then needled Ton-Toln with the top of his head. “If you’ve kept an eye on headlines, you’ll know why.”

Ton-Toln snorted, scuffing his crown of braids. “You always end up in the worst sort of scrapes, ad’ika.”

He smiled. “I had to learn something from ner ori’vod.”

“You mean the one who gets into trouble only for his riduur to bail him out again- wait a minute, that's both of them.”

Ben laughed. “Then we all know I never had a chance.”

Ton-Toln scuffed his braid again. “I know Khal had their hopes.”

He smiled, leaning against Ton-Toln’s hal’cabur. Sometimes, it was irritating how nearly everyone was taller than him (and he was almost certain that fuelled part of Jango’s rage), but it also meant that hugs from just about everyone were better, too.

“What about you? What’s new with you?”

Ton-Toln sighed, pulling back slightly to produce a cable, securely linking Ben’s comm unit with his own komr’k. “Unsurprisingly, gar jetiise came through for us: first with the Coruscanta atmo access codes, and then helping us cross-reference the Treasury records. Gar vod laid very good groundwork for Sy to build on- everything you need for your case is here.”

“Vor’e, Ton-Toln,” he replied, sighing with relief. “The Jetii Guard have realised what ner vod was looking into when he was caught.” If he treated it like a report, it didn’t hurt so much, almost like bleeding off the poison from the wound. “You might see some digging from that corner, but with both Reeft and Sy out of reach, it might take some time to get any traction going.” He thought about it, then added, “But I wouldn’t underestimate being powered by spite.”

Ton-Toln snorted. “You’d know that well, wouldn’t you?”

Ben offered him his most innocent smile. “I’m not certain what you mean.”

Solaris politely tapped at his mind, warning him that Hardeen was approaching. He sighed, pushing upright. “Hardeen’s here.”

Ton-Toln’s hand lingered on the side of his face. Ben glanced up, raising his eyebrows at the surge of emotion he could feel within the older man.

“Ton-Toln?”

“You are ad be gar buir’e,” Ton-Toln declared.

Ben swallowed, looking down, only for Ton-Toln to lift his chin. “Kovid laam, sur’haai tenn,” he ordered.

Ben exhaled heavily. Head up, eyes open indeed. “Elek.”

Finally, Ton-Toln let him step back, just in time for Hardeen to rap his knuckles on the door of the ship, poking his buy’ce inside.

“Verd,” Ben said as he pulled his mask on properly, dipping his head in greeting. “Beskar’gam looks good on you.”

Hardeen’s hands flexed, the beskar’gam not quite able to hide his self-consciousness. “I’m just glad it still fits,” he muttered.

Ben nodded. “Then I leave you in good hands. Hardeen, this is Ton-Toln, Head Slicer of the ori’ramikadyc. Ton-Toln, Rako Hardeen.”

Ton-Toln raised his eyebrows, coolly nodding in greeting. “The Marksman of Concord Dawn.”

“I’ll leave you to get acquainted,” Ben said. “I have other wishes to fish.”

The tilt of Hardeen’s buy’ce was confused, but Ton-Toln snickered. “If you’re still making Ahlora’s osik jokes, you’re okay.”

“Ret’, Ton-Toln, Hardeen,” he said, waving as he headed down the ramp.

Whose jokes? Solaris asked as they left Westport for Dex’s Diner. Its query was likely spurred on by the dha’kad’au’s turning up of its metaphorical nose. Ben couldn’t help smiling; despite the years, it had never gotten along with So’ika and vice versa.

“Ton-Toln is talking about ner vod’ika, Ahsoka Tano,” he murmured. “She’s Manda-touched, too, and- I won’t say I taught her, but rather, we taught each other.”

The dha’kad’au nudged him. He chuckled, nudging it back. “The dha’kad’au taught us both, too. Although one of us appreciated it a bit more than the other.”

The dha’kad’au grumbled in his head about stubborn, toothy vod'ika with a bigger bark than bite.

“Well, she’s taking care of my greenhouses, so I’m grateful,” he said mildly, and then stuck his head into the diner. “FLO?”

She wheeled to a stop, her optic sensors flickering in greeting.

“Hiya, hon. New day, new face?”

He smiled beneath his mask. “Still can’t fool your eyes, though.”

“Come on, sweetie, they’re waiting for you.”

“Thanks, FLO,” he said, heading to the back room, only for Bant to slam into him right as the door shut. He wrapped his arms around her, savouring the feel of her mind against his.

“Su cuy, Bantee.”

“What is that dratted thing you have on your face?” she demanded.

Ben laughed, tugging down his mask to bare his face. “I know you’ve read the headlines; I can hardly get around in my beskar’gam anymore.” He rested his forehead against hers in kov’nyn. “The Guard must have returned with the shards of Reeft’s crystal by now. How are you?”

He looked up at movement from behind Bant but it was just Fisto, a tired expression on his usually animated face. The Nautolan put his hand on Bant’s shoulder, and Ben felt her sigh at the motion.

“I knew you were coming here to stir up the hornet’s nest,” she murmured, gently butting their foreheads together again. “Knowing it and being in the middle of it are very different things.”

He grimaced. “Ni ceta,” he said, inclining his head.

“I thought I’d made my peace with what happened when we held his pyre,” Bant rasped, one hand rising to grip Fisto’s. “But feeling just the echoes of his crystal-.” She shuddered, and Fisto’s lekku flexed, one of them sliding over her shoulder.

"Has it gone to the High Council for reading?" Ben asked. That would likely give the jetiise spoilers for the coming Senate investigation, but it wasn't like he could've kept the crystal with him. He shuddered just at the thought, the dha'kad'au rumbling possessively over him.

"Ibes- that's Reeft's Teacher," Fisto supplied, "currently has ahold of it. There was a brief ceremony, but the Council has agreed to respect his privacy during the official 3 month period given the situation."

"It's been nearly a year," he had to point out.

"Given the situation," Fisto repeated with a grimace. "It is- unprecedented."

“I suppose I should just be grateful that Teacher Ibes even permitted us our goodbyes,” Bant muttered, mouth twisting.

The lekku on her shoulder prodded her.

“Padawan,” Fisto said, “that man is grieving.”

“So are we,” she retorted.

Fisto sighed. “Still. Just because you’ve been Knighted doesn’t give you the wherewithal to insult him.”

Ben widened his eyes. “You’ve been Knighted?” he exclaimed. “Oya, vod!”

“Oh, don’t fuss,” she huffed, her cheeks flushing magenta.

Ben looked at Fisto to back him up. “This is a big thing,” he insisted. “I don’t remember much, but I remember this. We should celebrate.”

“It is a momentous occasion,” Fisto agreed, smiling. It wasn’t one of his wide, flirty grins, but something smaller and more genuine. “This is perhaps not the best time, but even Mace agrees I’ve put off your Knighting for too long.”

"He just wants to assign me more of his Council work," she mumbled. "And more importantly, I didn’t say anything." 

“Mostly because you think the fuss and the titles are a waste of time and would much rather get on with your work,” Fisto said, a genuine spark of amusement growing in his eyes. Bant just made an impatient noise.

“I’d have a lot more patience if I weren’t losing it all on your antics time and time again.”

Fisto staggered backwards, miming being struck in the heart- well, one of them, at least.

“Slander from my own Padawan, even,” he groaned.

Ben chuckled as Bant muttered under her breath. “I thought Bant was already a Knight.”

“She may be a Knight and one day a Master and Grandmaster, but Bant will always be my Padawan,” Fisto said firmly.

“You’re not supposed to get mushy,” she complained, bringing up her hands to hide the way her magenta blush was spreading across her crown. “Keep being terrible at sentiment or I’ll start to suspect you’ve been replaced by a Clawdite.”

He has not, both Solaris and the dha’kad’au assured him.

Fisto laughed loudly. “I ought to have something to show for your Padawanship, Bantee.”

“And has your Quarren been Knighted too?” Ben asked, because Fisto shouldn’t get the jump on the Younglings for teasing Bant. As it was, she should just be grateful the rest of the them weren't here, too.

She turned up her nose at him. “As a matter of fact, Cor has.” She pinned him with a truly terrifying look, one he knew well with a baar’ur as buir. “We also had quite an interesting conversation- at your instigation, I’m told.”

Judging by Fisto’s curious look, she hadn’t told him about it.

“Did I overstep?” Ben asked warily. He was, admittedly, used to the Mando’ad’s rather lax interpretation of privacy.

She looked away, wrapping her arms around herself. “It was a conversation we would have had to have soon enough. I wouldn’t have been able to stay.”

“You…had discussed your plans for Tython, right?” Fisto asked, stepping closer.

Bant sighed. “I’m not sure if you’ve realised, Kit, but an officially sanctioned posting is a bit different from walking away from the Order.”

“You don’t have to,” Ben found himself saying. “You have a life with the Jetii, a future. I never meant to-.”

“Obi-Wan Kenobi.”

His mouth snapped shut.

“This is not a decision I have made lightly,” Bant told him icily. “I have considered my remaining bonds and meditated deeply on the paths available to me, thoroughly consulted the Force before I made my choice. You did not ask me to do anything, and this choice was not made for you. Do you understand?”

“Elek, baar’ur,” he croaked.

She relented slightly then. “You were a factor,” Bant admitted, “but don’t try to take responsibility for my choices again.”

“That conversation you had with Llewyl…” he began hesitantly.

“We have had that conversation,” she returned. “Just as I’ve made my choices, it’s Cor’s turn to make his.”

“You have us regardless,” Ben vowed. Finally, Bant smiled.

“I’ve always known that, you silly tooka.”

“And me, although I suppose that's a bit of a given,” Fisto piped up with a sly grin. “Is that the Younglings’ nickname for you, Ben?”

“It is not,” he retorted, shooting a glare at Bant, who only smirked back at him.

“That’s a pity,” Fisto said. “I just thought it was rather fitting, given the ginger colouring and big blue eyes-.”

“Are you flirting with me?” Ben demanded. “Because it’s starting to sound an awful lot like you’re flirting with me.”

Fisto sputtered as he profusely denied it, having clearly not forgotten Bant’s previous tongue-lashing.

“You’re going to hurt my feelings if you protest so much,” Ben said with a pout, bringing out said tooka eyes.

Fisto blinked, tongue stalled mid-sentence. Bant snorted and planted her hand in his face.

“Put that face away, Force, you’re a horror,” she muttered, “Kit hasn’t gained immunity to it yet.” To Fisto, she said, “That look of his used to make our crechemaster fold like wet flimsi.”

“Awww, but Bantee, that’s why I have to use it while I can,” Ben laughed, trying to bat away her hand so he could direct the full force of his eyes at Fisto again. She clicked her tongue at him, but he could feel her growing amusement.

“Reeft was always such a sucker for-.”

Bant froze, a horrified look on her face. Ben sighed, dragging her in for a hug. She slumped against him, both in body and in Manda. The dha’kad’au muttered about taking liberties, but honestly, So'ika wasn't the only one that was all bark and no bite.

“I will need so many mir’jahaal’tsad sessions once I’m back on Manda’yaim. You’re more than welcome to join me. For that matter, so will Quin. Judging by how well she's doing on Pantora, Siri seems to have a handle on things, and Garen’s already started in on his sessions, so he’ll be the most well-adjusted of us for once,” he joked weakly.

"Why isn't Quinlan also attending Mind Healing sessions?" Bant demanded. "I thought he'd already reached Melidaan with Tholme and his new Padawan."

"Aayl'ika is a bit young to be hibir," he hedged. "And besides, I told you I needed Quin’s help to look into something for me,” he explained.

“Tholme must’ve liked that,” Fisto muttered.

Ben sighed. “He is exactly as happy with me as you think he is, especially after things went so spectacularly wrong. Physically, Quin is fine; mentally, that’s another question completely.”

The Nautolan winced.

Because she was still leaning against him, he could feel the way Bant had tensed as he’d spoken, and the way she’d made herself deliberately relax.

"I didn't feel anything, but I suppose I shouldn't be surprised," she mumbled. "I was never the most sensitive about our bonds, and none of us felt anything when it came to Reeft, either."

"Even though it is so much Lighter on Coruscanta now?" he asked.

Bant wrinkled her nose. "We may all be luminous beings, but I was all better with our crude matter." She sighed, shaking her head. "You said he’s getting help?”

“Elek,” Ben confirmed. “I know the baar’ur and mir’baar’ur he will have access to; they are not only good at their roles, they are good people. Yan’buir knows who I normally see, but they are all used to my jetii osik.” He offered her a wan smile. “It is always jetii osik when this sort of thing happens, never mind the literal decade since I have been jetii.”

Bant laughed wetly, her eyes gleaming. Aquatic species like Mon Calamari and Nautolans couldn’t cry. Somehow, it felt like an oversight that he didn’t know if she’d ever wanted to.

“And," he added, "once you’re on Manda’yaim, I'm certain you’ll put the fear of Bant Eerin into him again.”

She laughed again, relaxing that much more against him. “If Quin knows what’s good for him, he’ll never have lost that fear in the first place.”