Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Obi-Wan took a deep breath and did his best to press the anxiety he was feeling away. His hands were steady as he adjusted the settings of the communication set-up of the small vessel he was currently piloting. He purposefully set the comm to audio only on his side. He hadn't been a padawan for long, but if there was one thing he'd learned during his missions with Master Jinn, it was that it was rare for anyone, especially politicians, to take a padawan seriously.

He assumed the same held true for the leader of an enemy empire.

Not allowing himself enough time for second guessing, he input the frequency that Kellia had provided him with.

A helmeted person appeared, lit up in blue. He assumed that whatever the person said was a greeting, though Obi-Wan couldn't understand it as the person spoke in mando'a. The padawan nodded his own respectful greeting, forgetting for a moment that the person wouldn't be able to see him. Then he quickly spoke before the other person could start asking questions. “My name is Obi-Wan Kenobi, of the Jedi. I would like to speak to the Mand’alor.”

The armoured person said a few words in their own language, and from the sound of it they weren't nice words. It didn't matter, though, as long as the person put his comm through. So Obi-Wan said nothing, simply waited as patiently as he could until, eventually, a different person appeared on the holo.

Since the man was not wearing his helmet, the Jedi had no trouble recognizing him as Jango Fett. The Mand'alor.

“Jetii,” the man spat the word with such derision that it was startling. Of course Obi-Wan was well aware that the Mandalorian Empire was at war with the Republic, that Jedi to them meant ‘enemy’ instead of peacekeeper or protector and yet that hateful utterance still struck him like a punch.

With everything else going on it was just one more thing to add to the pile.

But Obi-Wan was a Jedi - a padawan even, no longer an initiate. So he breathed, focussed and released his stress and fear into the Force as best as he could.

“Have you heard of the- the attack on Phindar?” he swallowed and forged on because he knew the response would not be pleasant, doing his best to keep his voice deep and deliberate. “There was… A civilian area was targeted. There were nine younglings-”

The Mand’alor interrupted him with a snarl. “Have I heard of it?” There was a wealth of darkness and danger in that voice and Obi-Wan couldn’t help but shiver and be grateful for the fact that he couldn't sense the man's emotions over the comm. “Trust me, jetii, I will show you in blood and pain what I have heard. Honourless demagolka. Murdering ade.”

“They’re here,” Obi-Wan interposed quickly, hoping to stop the anger before it could erupt any further.

The man frowned at the interruption. “What?” he snapped out, with clear impatience.

“The civilians - the children. They’re here. On board of my ship. I don’t know what went wrong, why a civilian target-” he stopped himself from going further down that road. It was no use apologizing, especially when he didn’t have all of the facts about how this could even have happened. No. Focus on the relevant facts and work towards a solution. “I could not stop the attack, but I could find the life forms present in the building and get them out of there.”

There, that was better. Clear. Professional even. Now for his offer. “I am more than willing to leave them on any suitable neutral planet, as long as you can promise me safe passage to and from that place.”

Silence stretched and he had to stop himself from filling it with nervous chatter. Obi-Wan had seen negotiations many times with his Master and knew that at times it was better to hold your peace. He’d said his part, it was up to the Mand’alor to accept or reject his offer.

“One of the ade is called Kellia,” the Mand’alor finally said. “Let me speak to her.” It was a demand, not a request but Obi-Wan thought that this would probably go easier if he acceded.

“Alright, please wait a moment.” He didn’t turn off his audio as he walked to the door. “Kellia?” he called out to the oldest of the children on board, “the Mand’alor wants to talk to you.”

“Mand’alor?” She was immediately on her feet and making her way towards him. Behind her, the rest of the younglings started chattering excitedly amongst themselves.

Obi-Wan did his best to smile at her. “Yes, are you up for it?”

“Of course I am! I’m Mando’ad!”

She was certainly confident, already a brave little warrior. Though he supposed that as she was roughly his own age, ‘little’ was perhaps a bit patronising.

“Mand’alor,” she greeted and continued on in her own language. The padawan fought to keep any dismay from his face - this was exactly why it was so important for Jedi to learn as many languages as they could, but mando'a was not well thought of in the Republic, seeing as it was the language of their enemy.

Obi-Wan had once argued with Master Jinn that this made it all the more important to learn, but his request to learn was waved away with the assurance that it was not something a padawan needed to know.

The Mand'alor spoke with Kellia, but the only words Obi-Wan recognized in the conversation were Kellia's name and his own. He could recognize the tone, though. The Mand'alor sounded softer in his own language, though that was probably due to the fact he was talking to a child instead of one of the hated Jedi.

He waited silently for the conversation to finish, hoping that the Mand'alor was getting the assurances he needed. Kellia, at least, sounded entirely unconcerned, so hopefully the man would take that as a sign that Obi-Wan hadn't caused them any harm.

Eventually the teenage girl nodded respectfully at her leader and slid away from the holovid, letting Obi-Wan take her place.

“Mand’alor,” he greeted politely, signalling his presence since the holo part was still turned off on his side.

“I will agree to your terms, jetii," the man stated shortly, "But know that if you harm any of the ade, we will hunt you down. There will be nowhere to hide and when we find you, you will find no mercy.”

The words shouldn’t bother Obi-Wan – he’d seen and done enough that this mere threat shouldn’t unnerve him as much as it did. He closed his eyes for a moment and when he opened them again he managed to respond evenly. “I will keep them safe from harm,” Obi-Wan promised, and he meant it. That’s what Jedi did after all. Protect the innocent, find the peaceful solution.

He was doing fine.

“We are agreed, Mand’alor?” he pressed, “You will grant me safe passage?” Maybe it wasn’t the most diplomatic thing to do but he needed the assurance. He also needed this conversation to be over, to get the younglings to safety so that he could find his Master and they could go back to the Temple. He was ready for this mission to be over.

“Safe passage to and from. Agreed. But you will bring them straight here, to Manda’yaim.”

“To Mandalore itself?” Obi-Wan asked. “Surely a neutral planet…”

“No,” the man on the other side of the comm cut him off. “Manda’yaim. Bring them here, safe and sound and I will promise you safe passage, jetii.”

Obi-Wan tugged on his braid and considered arguing for a moment before he gave the thought up as futile. Besides, what difference did it make? Any other planet the Mand’alor named could be readied as a trap just as surely as Mandalore – Obi-Wan was deep in the Mandalorian Sector and the Jedi and Republic had no true allies here. So what would it change if he went to the very heart of the enemy empire?

“Alright,” the padawan tried to say, but it came out more as an exhale than an actual word. He cleared his throat and tried again. “Agreed, Mand’alor.”

Jango felt something within him unclench when he watched the ramp of the Republican ship open and he saw the ade come out. They were immediately scooped up by his verde and gently ushered towards the waiting baar'ur. None of them sported any immediately visible injuries, so hopefully they wouldn’t need more than a check-up.

“Where is the jetii?” He asked Kelli, the oldest one of the children and clearly unafraid.

She smiled up at him, looking none the worse for her part in this adventure. “He was in the cockpit, Mand’alor.”

Jango nodded tightly and signed at his squad to follow him inside the ship. He may have promised the jetii safe passage ‘to’ and ‘from’ and he would honour his word on that since the jetii had kept his own, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t intimidate and ask some very pointed questions in the in-between.

He stalked towards the cockpit, blaster in hand and five of his men at his side. He wasn’t expecting a fight, though. If the jetii had been skilled enough to warrant being sent on a mission in an enemy sector and then had the guts to get nine younglings out of a targeted building only to contact the Mand’alor himself for terms to deliver them, they were clearly experienced. They'd know that an attack on enemy soil right now would be beyond foolish.

Still, it always paid to stay on guard. He didn't get to be Mand'alor by taking stupid risks.

Silas was a skilled enough slicer that it didn’t take him long to overrule the lock and the four of them burst into the room with every intention of making the jetii sweat.

In hindsight coming in as they did was a mistake.

Because it wasn’t a fully grown, experienced jetii inside the room. Instead, when they burst in, they found a jeti’ad - and the aggressive entry most definitely served its purpose of making the jetii feel intimidated. Immediately the blue light of a jeti’kad filled the room and Jango cursed inside his helmet. Over their comms he could hear Myles curse just as fervently.

None of them were going to shoot at a scared child, and with the ad waving around a kad’au it wasn’t a feasible plan to grab hold of him either. Then Silas, who’d been in the door opening, was pushed back by an invisible power and Jango didn't get a chance to right the misunderstanding, because the ad was already dodging between them and fleeing for his life.

Well, Jango had fucked that one up immensely.

Instead of letting that feeling paralyse him, he allowed it to drive him onwards to do what needed to be done. Before he’d even made it off the ship he already had the call for search parties sent out - with the added warning to try not to frighten the jeti’ad even further. Damned if he knew how they were going to succeed at that, because Jango hadn't exactly made a good impression and who knew what kind of bantha shit the ad had been fed about Mandalorians by the Republic.

The conversation he'd had with the jetii ran through his mind, now with the knowledge that there had been a child on the other side of the comm and Jango felt the sudden need to bash his own head against the nearest hard object. It wouldn't be helpful for the Mand'alor to be concussed, though, so he simply let out another long string of curse words over the open comms.

None of his men commented on it.

"Split up in pairs," he ordered his own squad to join the search. "I'll take East. Keep in touch over the comms." He barely waited for an acknowledgement before he went off with Myles, his usual partner. Jango wasn't about to sit around waiting while a scared jeti’ad was out there alone in what they considered to be enemy territory. They needed to find them before the ad did something stupid - and they needed to do it without driving the poor brave ad even further into a corner.

Osik.

The planet was unfamiliar, a myriad of different species, smells and sounds. There were Mandalorians everywhere and the armour many of them wore made it almost impossible to tell anything about them in the Force, but that was fine because right now Obi-Wan just needed to get away and even if he couldn’t sense their presence that well, he could still feel the Force and it led him away from the spaceport and deeper into the city.

They were already searching for him - heavily armed and armoured Mandalorians were seemingly everywhere he turned. He couldn't let that panic him, though, no he needed to stay calm and trust in the Force.

His path led him deeper into the city towards busier streets and when it looked clear of his pursuers Obi-Wan darted out from underneath the awnings to snatch a large, dark-blue cloak from where it was placed on a bench next to an armoured but helmet-less Togruta. It would help disguise his Jedi robes.

It was hard to tell which Mandalorians were actively looking for him - many were fully armoured and the helmets made it difficult to tell if they were looking for someone or simply there. When more and more fully armoured Mandalorians entered the marketplace, Obi-Wan carefully retreated into smaller, shadowed alleys. All the while he tried very hard not to think about how difficult it would be to escape the very heart of the Mandalorian Empire.

“Are you alright, ad’ika?”

Obi-Wan whirled around at the unexpected sound and found himself face to face with one of the Mandalorians. He hadn't noticed the person's approach because that armour seemed to muffle their presence in the Force.

He froze, trying to work out which way to go. There was no immediate sense of danger in the Force and no clear pull for a direction to flee in.

“Easy, verd’ika.” The person's voice was calm and steady. They slowly lifted their hands and to Obi-Wan’s surprise used them to take off their helmet. It revealed a humanoid face, dark hair with streaks of silver in it and a warm smile.

“My name is Jaster Mereel,” the Mandalorian said, “I do not know what you have heard of my people, but no true Mandalorian would ever harm a child.”

With the helmet off, Obi-Wan could feel the man’s presence in the Force, steady but also worried - no, concerned. It was not at all what he would expect from an enemy.

Perhaps the Mandalorian didn’t know that Obi-Wan was a Jedi?

The man disproved that theory immediately.

“As far as I know jeti’ade should have their buir or ba'ji with them, no? A teacher or guardian? Did something happen to them?”

The man was talking to him so gently, as if Obi-Wan was going to break apart if he spoke too loudly and that was entirely unnecessary, because he was a Jedi and he was fine.

“No," he answered, not seeing any harm in answering that. His welcoming party had doubtlessly noted that Obi-Wan had arrived on this planet on his own. "He had… other things to do. We got separated.”

“I see,” the man said slowly, “Are you then the jetii who brought our ad’ike home?”

From the context, Obi-Wan understood that ad’ike likely meant the children, so he nodded, not trusting himself to speak as the stress of the past few days - weeks - crept up on him.

“That was a very brave thing you did, ad.” The smile bestowed on him then was so genuine and warm that Obi-Wan had to look away.

The man, Jaster, stepped closer and the padawan’s eyes snapped back to him. The Mandalorian’s movements were slow, careful and when he had finally reached Obi-Wan, the man did nothing more threatening than put a hand on his shoulder. The weight of it was heavy due to the armour but instead of making him feel trapped it was almost like an anchor and Obi-Wan couldn’t stop himself from leaning into it, letting someone else take part of his weight for the first time in what felt like a very long time.

Jaster didn’t just pat his shoulder and then push him away, like he somehow expected. No, instead the man simply pulled him in closer, into the semblance of a hug. And even if the armour was hard and unyielding, Obi-Wan felt so tired and drained that he just settled into that hold. If he had to fight to get away, surely it could wait just a second? The Force was still oddly calm after all - signalling no danger, just peace.

The arm around him was solid and sure and a hand came up to gently slide through his hair, soothing him in a way he could hardly remember ever experiencing.

“I will not let any harm come to you, ad’ika," the man promised, "I give you my word of honour, and to a Mandalorian that is a weighty thing.”

He didn’t know what to say to that. Didn’t understand anything about this situation because Jaster was supposed to be his enemy only he wasn’t acting like that at all and Obi-Wan could sense only determination and concern from him.

Why? Obi-Wan hadn’t done anything to deserve that. Sure, he had brought their younglings home safely but that was because the attack never should have happened in the first place. After that he’d been causing trouble and stealing property and failing miserably at acting at all like a padawan should.

“I stole someone’s cloak,” Obi-Wan blurted out, on the verge of tears for some inexplicable reason and trying desperately to hold on to a Jedi-appropriate calm. “I’m sorry. I just needed something to hide my clothes.”

“Sshh, ad’ika. It’s alright,” Jaster said in that deep warm voice that was slowly becoming familiar, “udesii. I’m sure they can do without it for a little while. After all, if they couldn’t do without it, they would have been wearing it.”

The comment was so unexpected at that moment that he couldn't stop the snort that came out. And it was as if letting out that single sound broke a dam of sorts, because after that Obi-Wan couldn't stop the crest of emotions and started crying like a crecheling.

Jaster didn't startle, there was no surprise in the Force, or embarrassement or anything of the sort - just that same calm, warm comfort. “There we go, little one, just let it out. Udesii. All will be well.”

If the comforting words were meant to get him to let go, it didn't work because Obi-Wan only clung even more tightly. Jaster didn’t seem to mind, though, the man simply held on until the storm inside of Obi-Wan finally passed and the padawan was left exhausted in the wake of it.

He had no idea how long they'd been here, in this alley on a planet far away from anyone he'd ever known. A planet that Jedi knew to avoid at all costs.

He was too tired to even worry about that anymore.

“Come on, ad'ika," Jaster said, while he gathered Obi-Wan more securely in his arms and slowly stood up. The man did not even waver under the weight of both a thirteen year old and his own armour. "Let’s get you somewhere you can rest. And perhaps some food? You’ve been running and hiding for a while, haven’t you?”

He was probably supposed to answer, but he didn't have the slightest clue what to say to that. Because no, of course he couldn't come with this Mandalorian. Obi-Wan was a Jedi, a padawan - he should be getting away, or at the very least consider the situation carefully, meditate on the possibilities.

But he felt completely drained of energy and Jaster’s presence was warm and soothing. He could sense no malice from the man and no warning in the Force, so even though he was being carried like a child, in a way that he hadn’t been for many years, he didn’t even bother to protest.

Instead Obi-Wan just leaned against armour that warmed against his cheek and allowed himself to sink into the soothing rhythm of the Mandalorian’s sure steps.

Chapter Text

The Mandalorian carried Obi-Wan all the way to a compound of sorts. They passed many people on their way, nearly all of them wearing armour of their own.

Helmets turned in his direction, faceless and hard sentries who marked his presence with nothing to signify what they were thinking or feeling. The Jedi could barely even sense their presence in the Force, and without facial expressions to judge their intentions by, it felt as if he was surrounded by ruthless droids.

The very thought of the armour they were wearing, boxing them in and keeping them cut off from the Force, made him shudder.

Would they treat their prisoners that way? Keep Jedi they captured locked away, surrounded by that inhibiting metal? Unconsciously, Obi-Wan turned away from the unfeeling helmets and tucked his face into the neck of the man carrying him. Jaster was the only warm spot to any of his senses – his presence was still filled with a seemingly misplaced but oh-so-reassuring warm protectiveness. It was the only reason that he hadn’t yet jumped out of the man’s grasp and tried to get away again.

Despite being practically surrounded by enemy warriors, there was no warning of danger in the Force. Whether that was because there was no danger, or because that armour would make it so that Obi-Wan wouldn’t even be able to sense the danger before it was too late-

His breath caught and he tried to listen more closely to the Force. As before, though, Jaster was the only thing he could clearly feel – an anchor that Obi-Wan was holding onto far more than he should be. At least the man was intent on his path and with the armour between them didn’t seem to notice how clingy the teenager he was carrying really was. As long as Obi-Wan managed to calm himself before they got to wherever they were going it would be fine, he told himself.

So he allowed himself the crutch, even if he knew that it was something a padawan shouldn't need. But it helped him to release his fear and at the moment that was more important. So Obi-Wan focused on the warmth against his skin and the way the Mandalorian’s steadfast protection enfolded him.

The strongest edge of his fear dulled and was replaced by calm. He reached out, and found that the Force was still there, present and at peace - while the intentions of the people around him may be quiet, the Force was still with him.

Obi-Wan relaxed, just the slightest bit. For now, there was no danger. He was a Jedi, he would trust in the Force.

The padawan had been taken into what was undoubtedly a medical room. It was entirely different from the Temple healers, but it was still unmistakable for what it was.

"Alor. Ah, and who is this?" The being who greeted them was wearing several pieces of armour, but not covering their face or hands. He could sense them in the Force, could feel their immediate focus on them both, aimed at discovering possible injuries.

"This is Obi-Wan. Ob'ika, meet Miji, our baar'ur or medic."

"I'm not injured," Obi-Wan stated when he was being gently set down on a raised cot, clearly meant for examination.

Jaster waited until he was seated on it before answering him. "It's standard procedure for our verde to be seen by the baar'ur after being out in the field, even if it's just for a short check-up. There are things we can miss, in the heat of battle, and it it's good to catch injuries and other problems before they can get worse." The Mandalorian was seemingly entirely unselfconscious about taking up the medic's time to explain things to him.

Obi-Wan nodded quickly and looked at the medic - they weren't excluding any irritation at the unnecessary delay, though, but simply agreed with that statement. "As Jaster says, it's best to catch any injuries early, before the problem becomes bigger."

"I'm not one of your verde, though," he dared to point out, the strange word falling a little awkwardly from his lips. From the context he assumed it meant people, or possibly soldiers.

Jaster smiled at him, undeterred, "That's true. But you were out there in the field and if you got injured while getting our ade to safety, it's our responsibility to make sure that you're healed."

"That was very brave of you, ad'ika," the medic said. "And it's not just verde who visit the baar'ur, you know. We also like to make sure that new arrivals are healthy and have the necessary immunizations for this sector. So the reason for you being here is really two-fold. If there aren't any problems, we'll be done with it soon enough, though. Would you like for Jaster to stay or leave?"

Obi-Wan blinked at the sudden choice and answered, "Stay."

His answer had been a quick, instinctive one, but even as he felt his cheeks warm he didn't take it back. He did avoid the man's eyes, though.

"Of course, Ob'ika," The Mandalorian agreed easily, taking up a spot next to the cot that was out of the medic's way but still close by. It was ridiculous for the padawan to feel reassured by that, but perhaps it was a good thing if it helped him to stay calm - that was important after all. You can't feel the Force or act as a Jedi should when you're panicking. He looked at the medic and nodded in what he hoped was professionalism. He wasn't sure if he'd managed it, but they smiled at him and started their examination, explaining each step beforehand.

Surprisingly it wasn't that bad. He could feel Jaster's eyes on him when the healer applied a salve to every one of Obi-Wan's uncovered scars - the one on his neck from the collar on Bandomeer especially seemed to evoke a strange sort of protective anger from the man, yet neither of the Mandalorians remarked on it.

Before he knew it he was done. Miji informed him in a kind but stern healer's voice that he was underweight and needed to take the time to eat, and somehow that was Jaster responsibility, because the man was told explicitly to remind Obi-Wan of mealtimes. Miji also told him that they'd set up a meeting for him with one of the mir baar'ur - which were apparently separate from the usual medics but were meant to check on their mind. He was confused about how Force-nulls would be able to find mental trauma, but was assured that he would only need to talk to the other healer, nothing more.

"That can wait until tomorrow, though, ad'ika," Miji told him warmly before he was released from the medic's care.

Obi-Wan just nodded dutifully and followed Jaster's guiding hand on his shoulder out of the room.

"Well, since I don't want to get on Miji's bad side, I suppose food is next on our list," the Mandalorian informed him with an inviting smile and Obi-Wan was led through the compound until they came to a set of guarded doors.

The Mandalorians standing on either side of the double doors tilted their heads in what Obi-Wan thought was a greeting of sorts and let them pass. Obi-Wan wondered if this was going to be his cell, but the rooms he was guided into were far too comfortable for that. He looked around with some confusion, the tenseness melting from his shoulders as he noted all the personal touches.

"These are the Clan Mereel's family rooms," Jaster explained. "Go ahead and sit down, or look around if you want. Either is fine, ad'ika. I'll just ask someone to bring us some early dinner."

It wasn't long before an unknown Mandalorian brought them both a stew that tasted heavily of unfamiliar spices, as well as some soft warm buns. He ate slowly, the meal more tasteful than he was used to, but not so much as to be unpleasant. He couldn't eat it all and set the bowl down on the low table in front of them when he was pleasantly full.

"All done, ad'ika?"

"Yes," Obi-Wan affirmed. "Thank you," he added more quietly.

Jaster shook his head, looking serious. "You're a child currently in my care, Obi-Wan. And as an adult it is my job to make sure you're safe and healthy. These are not things you will ever need to thank me for."

That was an odd way to put it. The padawan frowned but decided not the argue the point. His situation was precarious enough as it was, if the fact that this man saw him as a child instead of a Jedi was what kept him from being locked up as an enemy, that would actually be a good thing.

Silently, Obi-Wan nodded.

That seemed to be response enough for the Mandalorian, though, because he received another smile and was gently ushered towards what would apparently be his room. He stared at it from the doorway. It looked comfortable, a wooden wardrobe, a desk and a bed with an unnecessary number of pillows and blankets all of it decorated in warm reds, browns and yellows.

"My room is just over there," Jaster informed him, pointing to a door at the end of the hall. "If you need anything, or have a nightmare you can come and find me. Just knock first, alright, ad'ika? It's better not to startle a warrior upon waking," he explained.

He understood the last part, at least theoretically, but felt incredulous at the thought of waking the man up in the first place even if he did have a nightmare. Still what he got clearly from that explanation was that he wouldn't be locked in and that, at least, was a very good thing.

He nodded numbly.

"Alright. Sleep well, ad'ika."

Obi-Wan stepped inside the room and quietly closed the door behind him. He stood silently for a moment, waiting until he heard the Mandalorian's heavy thread move away from the door. Then he breathed out and walked over to the room's single window. It was large enough for him to fit through, but it also looked out over a courtyard. He saw many armoured Mandalorians - some simply walking around, alone or in groups or pairs talking to each other, but also several who like the beings outside of these rooms clearly standing guard.

There were a lot of guards in this compound. Was he a prisoner? He didn't think prisoners would be treated this kindly and yet he very much suspected that the guards would stop him from leaving - and if his escape failed, he would probably be treated like a prisoner in truth.

He stood in front of that window for a very long time, his mind working furiously to come up with the best course of action. Even with the hour growing later, the guards outside remained, though he'd seen them change shifts. Eventually he decided it would be better to wait for now. He was tired and maybe tomorrow he'd... well, he'd figure it out.

Obi-Wan finally allowed himself to slide into the welcoming bed. Despite everything that had happened, it didn't take long for him to drift off.

The next morning, Obi-Wan woke up feeling better - more steady in any case. He quietly washed himself in the attached bathroom and got dressed. When he left his room and entered the same cozy living area as the day before, Jaster was already there, setting up a small spread of bread and fruits for breakfast.

"Good morning, Ob'ika, did you sleep well?"

Surprisingly, he had. "Yes."

Jaster smiled. "I'm glad to hear that," he said and Obi-Wan could feel that the man was genuine. That made it easy to come closer and sit down beside him, despite the fact that as a Jedi, this Mandalorian was his traditional enemy.

Jedi didn't hate, though, didn't hold grudges or judge beings like that, so sharing a comfortable breakfast with a man who had shown nothing but kindness and felt steadfast but peaceful in the Force was perfectly fine.

The peaceful atmosphere didn't last for long, though. It was broken by a single question.

"The Mand’alor is here to speak with you. Would you be alright talking to him?" Jaster asked him as if he had a choice in the matter.

The padawan knew he couldn’t avoid it, but he also vividly remembered his previous conversation with the Mandalorian leader and how grateful he’d been for the vastness of space separating Obi-Wan from that rage. But padawan or not, he was still a Jedi.

"Yes," Obi-Wan answered, mustering up as much confidence and certainty as he could gather. If most of it was a mask, then that was fine because no-one would know.

Jaster put a hand lightly on his shoulder – not keeping him in place, it was simply the weight of someone being present. "You don't have to," the man said, "Not if you don't feel ready for it."

Except that the Mand'alor was already here, at the compound, and wanted to speak with him. "I'll talk to him," Obi-Wan stated.

"Alright," Jaster agreed easily. "But if at any moment you want to leave, just let me know and we will go. He can wait, Obi-Wan, and no-one would be angry about it, I promise you that. You’re safe here. Do you understand?"

Dutifully, Obi-Wan nodded.

Jaster looked at him a moment longer before leading him towards what he informed Obi-Wan was called the clan’s official reception room.

The padawan entered the room and immediately spotted the only other occupant - a man in full armour - armour that Obi-Wan recognized from the confrontation back at the ship. He instinctively flinched back and might have run if it was not for the solid form behind him.

Jaster, whose hand was still steady on his shoulder. And the man had promised him safety, but then so had the Mand’alor – who’d apparently come to meet the Republican ship himself after having promised Obi-Wan safe passage.

Who had… what? Had entered the ship with a bit more force than Obi-Wan had been expecting? Was it possible that Obi-Wan had overreacted when the Mandalorians had come onto the ship's bridge? He hadn’t been ready for them, hadn’t felt ready yet to face them so had been meditating to release his anxiety into the Force when suddenly they were right there.

Had Obi-Wan been the one to start the violence by igniting his lightsaber? No, the Mandalorians had had their blasters ready, but then they are a warrior culture. Was that their usual way? He couldn’t quite remember them actually shooting at him.

He didn’t know. As a Jedi he should have been calm, should have assessed the situation objectively instead of letting his instinctive fear push him into causing even more of an incident.

Would he be able to go back to the negotiation stage after this? Get back his previous deal? This was still a head of state and the Mand’alor had deigned to come to an agreement, for a given value of the word, with Obi-Wan before. That meant it was possible. Then again, the padawan hadn’t been at the man’s mercy back then and it was entirely possible that Obi-Wan had invalidated that agreement by his violent reaction. Master Jinn had often lectured him about his temper and had clearly been right, because this time it might have cost Obi-Wan everything.

He remembered the Mand’alor’s dark promise over the comm, before Obi-Wan had told him that the younglings were safe - that he would show in blood and pain how he felt about Jedi and had to hold back a flinch.

He stared at the forbidding form, who was now looming over him in real life and he should be saying something, should be a proper Jedi and be diplomatic and at least try, but it was hard to find the words in face of all that.

Obi-Wan closed his eyes, forced himself to center, to scrape together some form of composure and found that clenching his hands into fists stopped them from shaking.

When he opened his eyes again he managed to meet those of the now helmetless man in front of him. Obi-Wan swallowed, and just as during his earlier holocall he jumped in to speak first before he could lose whatever scraps were left of his courage.

“Mand’alor,” he greeted, powering through even though every word he had to muster up felt like it was carving out what strength remained in him. “I apologize for my unwarranted reaction. I hope I did not make it seem as if I in any way mean to renege on our earlier agreement.”

He stared straight back at the leader without truly seeing him, too focused on getting the words out and doing his best to hide his clenched fists beneath his sleeves.

“Ad’ika,” the Mand’alor drew the word out like a sigh, as if it was supposed to convey a thousand things that Obi-Wan couldn’t even begin to fathom. The man didn’t sound angry, though, and now that Obi-Wan actually looked he didn’t perceive any anger or hate in his face either. Not like their earlier holocall. That made it easier to keep his gaze fixed on the man no matter how badly the padawan wanted not to have to face this.

He stared back at the Mandalorian leader without flinching and let the silence linger – he’d said his words, it was up to the other man now because Obi-Wan didn’t have the words, the hope, the energy to try any further diplomacy even if perhaps he should.

The Mand’alor wordlessly shook his head and seemed to fold down in front of him. The armoured man actually knelt in front of Obi-Wan. “Ni ceta,” he said, words as serious as a vow - if only Obi-Wan knew that it meant. Thankfully the man didn’t leave him to guess but carried on. “The fault was mine, ad’ika,” the Mand’alor stated plainly, as if it wasn’t an admittance of weakness in front of a sort-of-enemy, “I apologize. We came in too hard. I frightened you and it was my wrong. Ni ceta.”

If he had the words, Obi-Wan would protest that he hadn’t been frightened, that Jedi controlled their fear, but his throat felt too tight to get a word out.

He wasn’t sure how much time passed in that frozen state before Jaster came to stand next to him and quietly spoke: “Ob’ika?”

He looked at Jaster and that kind look on his face was almost enough to drive the padawan right back to tears again. He bit his lip to prevent it – it was bad enough that he’d cried in front of this man before. He couldn’t cry in front of the Mand'alor as well. That would be worse, somehow. He glanced back at the man in question who was still exactly in the same place, looking back steadily at him with an unexpected patience.

Obi-Wan thought he was probably supposed to say something. That was how apologies worked - he was supposed to accept and profess forgiveness even if it had been Obi-Wan who had caused this whole mess to begin with. Perhaps there were even some specific words that should be used for accepting a Mandalorian apology – it certainly felt like something official because the Mand’alor himself was kneeling for him. What if it was an important Mandalorian ritual and he was supposed to do something but he didn’t know what?

"Udesii, Ob’ika." Jaster’s steady voice brought him from his frozen indecision. "Come on, ad’ika."

He didn’t need to respond, gentle hands guided him away from the large hall and he numbly followed, leaving the kneeling Mand’alor behind.

Jaster brought him back to the cozy living room. Once there, the padawan was bundled up on the couch, a blanket wrapped loosely around him despite the fact that it was hardly cold. Jaster sat down next to him, close enough for him to feel the man's body heat. He’d left Obi-Wan enough room on the couch to move to the side if he wanted to, but right now the teenager felt too shaky to move away from the steady form.

"That was bravely done, Ob’ika," Jaster finally told him, so very warmly as if he was proud of him, despite the fact that Obi-Wan hadn't done anything and might have even caused another diplomatic incident while he was at it.

The Mand’alor hadn’t looked angry, though. Hadn’t felt it either. The Force right now was calm, peaceful and slowly he relaxed under the blanket and leaned further into the man next to him who radiated nothing but care. He barely even noticed that he was falling asleep until he felt himself gently lowered down, the blanket tugged up a little to rest beneath his chin.

“Sleep well, ad,” he heard Jaster murmur but he was already too caught up in the haze of sleep to say anything back.

The lecture he’d meant to give his son lay unneeded on his tongue and he swallowed the words, sighing instead. “Jango,” was all Jaster said and his son immediately grimaced at him.

“I know, buir,” Jango said, sounding hoarse and looking bone-weary. “Vor entye, for finding him.”

“He’s an ad,” Jaster pointed out, because what else would he have done?

“I know. I didn’t expect…” The Mand’alor shook his head. “It was foolish.”

Jaster shook his head and smiled wryly, seeing the small glimmer of humor in the situation. “You mean you didn’t expect a jet’ika to have been the one to hail you from contested airspace to discuss bringing the children he’d saved from a Republic attack back to us? And then have the guts to agree to come to Manda’yaim?”

His ad smiled a little, shaking his head. “Clearly I should have.”

The smile fell away a moment later though, leaving a troubled frown in its wake. “Where was his jetii’buir? Why is he alone?”

Jaster shook his head, “Not dead,” he answered with what little information he had. “Busy elsewhere, the ad said. And from the way Ob’ika said it, it seemed as if it’s not unusual for the shabuir to leave him alone on missions.”

Jango swallowed and looked away. "He’s afraid of me. Of course he is. I entered that ship fully intending to intimidate a jedi and I succeeded at that. And buir… some of the things I said before, during that holocall. I didn’t know I was speaking with an ad. I thought it was the demogalka who had murdered our own ade."

Ah. That made sense, of course. When news of the attack had reached them there hadn’t been a Mandalorian out there without a thirst for revenge, their people were not the type to suffer any attack without retribution but believing nine of their own children dead had added to that a thousandfold.

"I don’t think the verd'ika will hold it against you," Jaster finally said, and that much was the truth. Obi-Wan may not have accepted his son’s apology right away, but then that was hardly required. That was not the point of an apology. Still, the fact that the ad had tried to apologize first – had tried to carry the blame for something that was so very clearly not his responsibility... well, it was not a good sign about the way he had been raised but it did indicate that the jet’ika wouldn’t hold what had happened against them.

"That doesn’t make it better," his son said, sounding every inch the indignant teenager he had once been instead of the Mand’alor he had become.

"I know," Jaster answered, tapping into the steady calm of a leader that came to him much easier than his brave and kind but also decisive son. That trait had served them well, Jango had been good for the Empire and Jaster had never regretted stepping aside as Mand'alor to enjoy his retirement, knowing he was leaving his people in good hands. But although Jango followed the guidelines from Jaster’s reforms as Mand’alor he was not the diplomat that his buir was.

That was fine, though, because he had his advisors for that and Jaster was one of them.

The Mand’alor didn’t need an advisor right now, though. Jango needed his buir. And that role came to Jaster even easier. "Right now Obi-Wan needs our support, not our anger," he said, drawing his stubborn ad into a keldabe.

They didn’t pull back for a long moment.

"You’ll make it up to him," Jaster stated with certainty because he knew his son. "You promised him safe passage? Back to the Republic? To the Jetii Order?"

Jango grimaced. "I did. I won’t break my word on that, not when he seemed so scared that I would renege that promise. But buir, I can’t let a child go back to a neglectful or abusive situation and this ad… "

Yes, Obi-Wan showed clear markers of neglect if not abuse just in his behaviour alone. The scars were troubling and he was underweight and also starved for any praise or affection. Jaster wasn’t sure if it was only due to his jetii’baji or a sign of how the jetii order as a whole treated their young.

"He’s thirteen," Jaster pointed out, at least if the ad could be believed and since the jet’ika didn't seem to have known the significance of that age for their people, he didn’t think Obi-Wan had been lying. "If he chooses to go back, we cannot stop him."

If this was a child of their own people, there were measures they could take – safeguards. But if the choice was letting the child go back or keeping him prisoner… the second would probably be more traumatizing than the first. And would leave him without any safe haven to flee to should it ever come to that.

"You didn’t specify a timeframe, did you?" Jaster added. "To grant him safe passage we must first ascertain that he’s healthy enough to make the trip. And right now that ad is a few good meals and a great many therapist meetings short of healthy."

It would give the child time to change his mind. And it would give Jaster some time to gently pry loose a few more answers about who, exactly, was to blame for the lack of care.

Jango snorted. "I’m not sure if the jet’ika will go for that. He seems very stubborn."

Jaster smiled. "He’ll fit right in."

Staying with Jaster was odd. After his... meeting with the Mand'alor and an unplanned for nap on the couch, he was woken up by Jaster entering the room, carrying a tray of food.

"It's time for midmeal, Ob'ika," the man informed him quietly, giving him some time to wake up a little more before he quietly urged him to eat.

After their midmeal the padawan was brought to the courtyard that he'd watched the night before and let loose among the group of children there, provisionally in the care of an older teenager who seemed to take his duty quite seriously. The older boy didn’t feel like a guard, though, more like a senior padawan helping out with initiate lessons. The sixteen year old, Bayu, had even started teaching Obi-Wan some mando’a when Bayu realized that half of what the children were saying confused him.

The day went by in an odd haze. It was only after dinner back in Jaster's rooms that he realized that he’d spend all day trying to figure out the language and unspoken social rules without ever stopping to wonder about what he was even doing here in the first place.

Obi-Wan was curled up in a comfy chair and had just finished browsing through the datapad that Jaster had given him. There were mando’a modules on there and modules on Mandalorian history and culture and while Obi-Wan would usually be jumping to learn more about all of those things, right now he just felt too confused to commit to it. He looked up at Jaster, who had seated himself on the couch that Obi-Wan had napped on before.

“I need to go meditate,” he said and blinked when he realized he had said that out loud.

Jaster looked up from his own data pad – paperwork he’d informed the padawan with a dramatic mournfulness. “Ah, of course, Ob’ika. That’s fine. Would your room be alright for that, or do you need somewhere with…” Jaster gestured around him, “natural things? I can take you to a park, if that would help. Or a river?”

“No,” Obi-Wan said quickly, “my room is fine, I’ll uh… go.” He took the data pad with him as he left the room, feeling oddly embarrassed at the interaction, as if he had admitted to a failure. But meditating would help him order his thoughts and emotions and Jaster hadn’t seemed offended at him mentioning it, even though it was mostly a Jedi thing, so… it was probably fine.

He breathed out a sigh of relief as he entered what had been dubbed ‘his’ room. It was… nice. It reminded him of the creche, a little, with the amount of colorful blankets and pillows inside. Though his room there had been shared with crechemates and hadn't had a wooden desk and a chair and thick, overly-long curtains.

The next day, Jaster had actually taken him outside of the compound. The marketplace they went to at Obi-Wan's slightly hesitant request was even busier than he remembered. He had been distracted when he’d been here before, his focus had been on noticing any pursuers, on hiding.

The Togruta he’d robbed had been without his helmet, making him easier to sense in the Force than fully armoured Mandalorians. He’d been focused on the feel of them – looking out for any sign that they’d spotted him.

Their armour had been decorated in yellow and blue and their helmet was shaped differently compared to the others to account for their montrals.

"Oh. I think that’s them," Obi-Wan said quietly when he noticed them. He could hardly sense the person with their helmet on, but he was sure it was them.

Jaster heard him and bent down a little, turning to him. "I see, Obi’ika. Do you want to go and talk to them?"

Obi-Wan looked down at the blue cloak in his hands, carefully folded up, and then back at the busy market place he would have to traverse to get to the person it belonged to. Last time he’d been keeping to the shadows, running and hiding. There was no need for that now, though, so the padawan breathed and let go of his remembered fear. It took a long moment, but when he was done he felt steadier.

He glanced at the man by his side, Jaster had his helmet off and wasn’t looking at Obi-Wan, he was standing there placidly, as if he had nowhere else in the world to be. If the other man had been a Jedi, he’d have said the man was meditating.

"Uh-" Obi-Wan started quietly, afraid that he’d be disturbing the man.

Jaster immediately turned to look at him. "Yes, ad’ika?" he asked.

"I’d like to go talk to them," Obi-Wan stated. "But you can wait here, if you want?"

The man tilted his head, examining him for a moment and then smiled. "Of course, Obi-Wan. I’ll be right here."

It felt strange, how Jaster listened to him so very attentively, even when it was just Obi-Wan saying nothing important. He was used to being looked at closely - with Master Jinn, it had felt as if he was waiting for Obi-Wan to show just how badly he failed at being a Jedi. This felt differently, though, but he wasn’t sure how or why.

He nodded and turned towards the Togruta who was the reason they were here. Unconsciously, he straightened, feeling surer now that there was a clear mission in front of him, even if it was perhaps not as important as his usual missions. But that wasn’t entirely true, was it? Usually he was trying to right wrongs that other beings had caused, this time he was making right his own wrong and maybe it was not as bad as some things, it was still something that needed to be fixed.

Resolved, Obi-Wan walked quickly towards the Mandalorian he’d pointed out.

"Su cuy'gar," he greeted the being, pronouncing it carefully to make sure he got it right.

The Mandalorian looked down at him and after a moment slowly took off his helmet. "Su cuy'gar, ad." The Togruta greeted him back.

"Uh, here." He held out the folded cloak. "It’s yours. I’m very sorry I took it," Obi-Wan earnestly told the other being, feeling genuinely contrite. This was so much worse than the apologies he’d been made to give as an initiate when he and Quinlan got caught for some form of mischief the older boy had managed to talk him into – they’d never done anything harmful, never took something that belonged to someone else for their own, not like this.

"Oh, ad’ika, that’s fine. It’s just a cloak." For a moment it looked as if the Togruta wouldn’t accept it back. And no, that was not why Obi-Wan was here. He wouldn’t keep it after taking it.

"Perhaps, but it’s yours so you should have it back. I don’t need it anymore," he added.

The being paused for a moment but nodded. "Alright, ad. Did it help?"

Obi-Wan blinked at the unexpected question and considered it for a moment. He had felt just a little safer, hiding his Jedi tunics under the large blue cloak. In the end, he had still been found, though. But he’d been found by Jaster and not by the Mandalorians from the port.

"Yes," he answered. "It helped. Thank you. Uh. Vor entye."

"N’entye, ad. May I have your name?"

"Obi-Wan Kenobi," he introduced himself, holding out a hand. The Togruta gently clasped him around the forearm instead of shaking it.

"I am Tagree Bezyn. Thank you for bringing it back to me."

He blushed and with one last nod turned to go back to Jaster. The man was looking over the padawan's shoulder, presumably nodding a greeting of sorts to the Togruta Obi-Wan had just left. Then he looked down to Obi-Wan, smiling at him while he walked up.

"Well done, Obi-Wan," he praised effortlessly as if the padawan had actually done something worthwhile instead of wasting the man’s time by dragging him along on an unimportant errand. He looked away.

"Hmm, well now that we are here, we can pick up a few things. It’s almost time for midmeal as well, isn’t it? Anything smell good?"

He hadn’t been paying attention to the food stands but now that he did the smells were rather appealing, though hard to place.

"I don’t know," he said. "I don’t recognize most of it."

Jaster lay a hand on his shoulder, steering him towards a few colorful stands at their left. "The best way to remedy a lack of knowledge is, of course, education. Shall we go educate ourselves?"

Obi-Wan huffed out a breath and smiled. Jaster might be half-jesting, but he wasn’t wrong exactly. "Alright," he agreed softly. "But I’m not eating any bugs."

The Mandalorian laughed. "I think we can manage that, ad."

"Is it alright if Jango joins us?" Jaster asked him seriously, when it was just the two of them in the room. "I know he scared you – if you’re not comfortable…"

Obi-Wan recognized the name, of course. There really could only be one Jango for Jaster to be talking about. "Why would the Mand’alor join us? Does he want to talk to me?"

He hadn't spoken to the Mand'alor since that whole... thing.

"Ah. I forgot you wouldn’t know. Jango is my son – he kept his last name after he was adopted, but he is a member of Clan Mereel. When he’s on planet and not too busy for his old man, he often stays here for dinner or even to sleep."

Oh.

Obi-Wan had clearly misunderstood. He’d been making this about him, while it so obviously wasn’t. Feeling foolish he shook his head. "Of course, that’s fine," he immediately said because he wouldn’t let something as silly as being somewhat uncomfortable around the Mand’alor stop a father from seeing his child.

A part of him also wondered what a family meal like that would be like. While Master Jinn had mentioned in passing meals with his own Master and Master Yoda – something about an inedible stew – Obi-Wan had never been part of any of those meals. And although he knew Master Yoda from the creche, he had never even met Master Dooku. He didn’t think Master Jinn still spent time with him. It was not the same, of course, for Jedi but… "It’s nice. That he wants to spend time with you, I mean."

That, thankfully, made the worried expression melt right from Jaster’s face into a big smile that suited him far better. "It is," the man agreed. "Let me know if it’s too much, though, ad'ika. I raised Jango, I know exactly what a handful he can be."

Obi-Wan blinked trying to imagine the imposing warrior as a child. He couldn’t quite summon up a realistic view. "He can’t be worse than Quinlan," he finally offered.

Jaster put an arm around him. "I can’t wait to hear all about it," he said, feeling entirely sincere about that in the Force.

Obi-Wan relaxed. He could do this. He would talk about the stupid things Quinlan had dragged him into – from Force-enhanced water fight tag in the room of a thousand fountains to that time they had snuck out of the Temple and got lost on the lower levels. Some of it was mildly embarrassing, but at least none of it was sensitive information as long as he didn’t mention certain specifics.

To his surprise dinner actually went well. Both Jaster and Jango had listened attentively and with appreciative humor at the few stories Obi-Wan dared to share and Jaster had no issue with embarrassing his own son with his choice of stories in return.

The Mand’alor bore the indignity of being reminded of his teenage shenanigans with slightly ill grace (he threw a bread roll at his father) but didn’t actually put a stop to it, so it was probably fine. The two adults had thrown barbs back and forth, about old age and the foolishness of youth, but there was always care underlying their words.

The atmosphere was warm and the food was good and filling. He suspected that his own meal wasn’t nearly as spicy as that of the others and, both curious and bolstered by the tales of daring and the vague thought of what-would-Quinlan-do, he waited until Jaster was distracted by a rather fervent argument about some part of the Supercommando Codex - some sort of book, if Obi-Wan was correct – to sneak a spoonful from the man’s plate.

He was immediately punished by what felt like a burst of flame on his tongue. It was pure force of will that stopped him from letting out any sound.

When he instinctively looked around for anything to help him, he met the Mand’alor’s eyes. From the utterly amused look on the man's face he had definitely caught him. Ignoring Jaster’s monologue with an ease born from familiarity, Jango unobtrusively gestured at the jug of blue milk.

Obi-Wan usually only drank that as a type of dessert after the meal. Willing to try anything at this point, he carefully poured himself a glass and closed his eyes in relief as the milk helped douse the fire.

A long moment later, Obi-Wan took a careful bite of his own food and recognized that it must have some of the same spices, just very much toned down. He stared at disbelief at the other’s plate and shook his head. Next to him Jaster was just winding down when Jango made another casual-sounding remark that was clearly not to be borne because it resulted in an immediate response of ‘You cannot be serious, Jango. I raised you better than to believe something like that,’ followed by another in depth lecture about this Codex.

Obi-Wan made a mental note to find out what it was later. It was clearly culturally important. Though not so serious that the Mand’alor couldn’t tease his father about it, apparently.

Mandalore was not at all what he would have expected.

"Are you just… going to keep me here? Am I a prisoner?" Obi-Wan finally dared to ask, four days into his stay at the Clan Mereel compound. He'd waited for a moment when he was alone with the Mand'alor, because for some reason asking the same of Jaster would have felt... wrong.

Jango took off his helmet, buy’ce as it was called in mando’a. "No. I gave you my word, I won’t go back on it. If you want to return to the jetiise I will arrange it. But Obi-Wan, if you don’t want to, or if you change your mind later, there will always be a place for you here. The only reason buir hasn’t adopted you is because as Mand’alor, the agreement I made with you would preclude that. You are wanted here. And you are loved."

Obi-Wan stared back, wide-eyed and utterly caught off guard. Jango was utterly serious, didn’t sound even the least bit embarrassed about just… saying all of that.

He swallowed. "I need to go back," he said and when the man just frowned at him, he rephrased. "I want to go back."

At that Jango sighed but nodded. "Alright, Ob’ika. We’ll get you there."

The Mand'alor kept his word. Two weeks after his dramatic arrival in the very center of the Mandalorian Empire, he was finally ready to leave. He wasn’t sure where Master Jinn was, hadn’t dared call him from the compound and told himself it would be better to wait until he was out of Mandalorian Space. That meant he wouldn’t be able to call until after leaving the first hyperspace lane, but that was fine. What difference did a few more days make?

Jaster had tried to insist on coming with him on the ship, along with a squad of verde to make sure Obi-Wan safely made it home.

Obi-Wan, in turn, had tried to argue that he’d be fine alone. He’d faced pirates before and would be fine even if something happened. He often split up from his Master, he was a padawan - he could handle it. Besides, considering the current diplomatic relations between Mandalore and the Republic (or more accurately, the lack thereof) having Mandalorian warriors with him wouldn’t end well when Obi-Wan finally met up with his Master, or other Republican forces.

Eventually they settled on the compromise that Obi-Wan could leave on his own ship, but that there would be two Mandalorian vessels to accompany him back to neutral space.

He’d also been provided with a private comm and the numbers of Jaster, his mir baar’ur and the Mand’alor himself. He stared down at it, wondering if he would ever use it. Clearly he was supposed to, because Jaster took one look at him and knelt before him.

“Comm your mir baar’ur, Obi-Wan, once you’re settled back home. She’s there to help you – you’re still her patient even if you’re far away,” Jaster told him, “Just as you’re still an ad in my care, even if you’re no longer under my roof. In our culture there is no way to go back on a promise of care to an ad – there is no wish to. A child may disown a parent or disavow a caretaker but never the other way around. You’re mine to care for, so please let me.”

Obi-Wan ducked his head and allowed the man to draw him into another one of his hugs. It was warm and reassuring like when he was meditating so deeply that the Force that it seemed to be curling around him – only a lot more solid than that. "Don’t forget to comm me, my bright, brave ad. I’ll worry, but if you comm me I might worry a little less."

"Alright," Obi-Wan said, though he wasn’t sure if he should. Jedi were not allowed attachments and… he thought this might be one.

"And comm Jango the moment you can. The Mand’alor swore safe passage. If you don’t let him know that you made it home safe he might feel honor bound to physically come check up on you. You won’t put me in the position where I have to argue with Jango about why it’s not a good idea to march on Coruscant, will you?"

"He can’t do that!" Obi-Wan protested. "It would…" he didn’t even know how to finish that statement because it would be a great many things and likely none of them good. "I’ll comm," he finally promised and this time he meant it.

So the padawan had accepted the device, with its pre-programmed numbers and he stood by as the Mandalorians filled his vessel with supplies. He should probably be worried about what else they could be placing on the Jedi ship, but if there was nothing else he could trust about Mandalorians, by now he could believe that the Mand’alor meant to keep his promise to let Obi-Wan go safely. Which probably meant no bombs.

If there were any tracking transponders, those would not matter since everyone already knew where he was going. Listening or monitoring devices could be disabled at arrival – he’d just have to make sure to mention the possibility of tampering before he was assigned a landing space.

That plan helped him settle his remaining worries, so he was calm if somewhat awkward while he stood in front of Jango – the Mand’alor – for their own goodbye.

“Be safe, ad’ika. Comm to let me know that you’ve made it home. And comm if there is anything else. I owe you a debt, Obi-Wan. I will not forget it.”

“N’entye,” Obi-Wan said, meaning it completely.

The man smiled at that and shook his head with what felt in the Force like true fondness. "Comm me, Ob’ika. And whatever else you know of my people don’t forget that we keep our promises and that no true Mandalorian would ever harm a child."

"I will remember," he said and nodded respectfully. Then he determinedly made his way to the ship.

If he looked back at Jaster one more time before boarding, then that was hardly illustrative of anything.

Chapter Text

"Quinlan, I’m fine," he said, which was the truth. "You and I both know that if I hadn't been, Master Che wouldn't have let me leave."

His friend had been hovering since Obi-Wan's return, even waiting for him while the Temple Healer looked him over and following him all the way back to his rooms, where the padawan had dutifully headed after receiving the Healer's firm orders to rest.

Thankfully, Obi-Wan wouldn't have to come before the Council until tomorrow, so that gave him some time.

There might be a warm feeling in his chest that came from the knowledge that Quinlan had been worried about him, but this wasn't exactly the best moment for the other boy's relentless presence.

"I would like to have a moment alone actually," Obi-Wan said quietly, hoping that would be enough to finally get the other boy to back off a little.

The Kiffar stared at him for a long moment, squinting his eyes and putting his fingers under his own chin in an exaggerated pose of examining him. "No, I don’t think you do," he finally concluded decisively.

After that pronouncement, his friend slung an arm around him. "Come on, you’re not staying in these depressing rooms alone. You’re sticking with me and Master Tholme." With that, and entirely ignoring any protest that made it past Obi-Wan's lips, his friend physically dragged him out of the padawan room that he had to admit hadn’t gained much of a personality since he’d become Master Jinn’s padawan.

Trying to change Quinlan's mind once he was set on a certain path was about as impossible as getting Master Jinn to explain himself on anything. Still, Obi-Wan tried. And failed, because before long he did find himself in the shared living room belonging to Quinlan and his Master.

"I can’t stay here, Quinlan," he hissed out, eyes darting around the room. Master Tholme wasn’t there, thankfully, but that only resolved half of the issue of staying in these rooms - the other half being the Kiffar who had dragged him there in the first place.

Obi-Wan wasn’t sure how much longer he could delay.

"Huh, you’re looking kind of shifty. Are you hiding an injury or something?" Quinlan frowned and looked at him more closely. "Is it something embarrassing you didn’t want to tell the healers about? Because you know I’ll only make fun of you in private, right? I’d still help."

"No," Obi-Wan answered with utter despair at both what a great and awful friend Quinlan was. "I uh," he hesitated for a moment and then spit it out, in one rushed go, "I-need-to-comm-the-Mand’alor."

There was utter silence for a moment, which was such a rare response from the other padawan that Obi-Wan blinked back at him in confusion.

"Wow," Quinlan finally said. Then he hustled Obi-Wan towards the couch, but instead of sitting on it like a normal being, for some reason he felt the need to crouch down behind it, and drag Obi-Wan down with him.

"Did you actually defect?" his friend asked in a loud whisper, "I mean it was a few weeks, but you’re usually more stubborn than that. And not exactly spy material. Though I suppose the fact that no-one would suspect you does actually make you great spy material. Well, except for the fact that you blurted it out on day one. That’s not how spying works, you realise that, right?"

Obi-Wan shot his friend a look. "I didn’t defect, Quinlan, don’t be an idiot. I just promised I’d let him know I made it home safe. So he doesn’t do something… weird."

The older padawan stared back, clearly waiting for more but Obi-Wan had no idea how to explain this. Finally Quinlan blinked and repeated him. "Something… weird?"

Obi-Wan waved his hands. "Like march on Coruscant or something," he clarified.

"That. That is not something I would describe as weird," Quinlan shot back incredulously. "What exactly happened out there?"

And yes, to be fair, that hadn't been what Obi-Wan was expecting either after he landed on Manda'yaim, but there was no reason for Quinlan of all people to look at him like he was crazy. "Nothing," he answered. Oddly enough that was sort-of the truth.

"You just said the Mand’alor was going to march on Coruscant! How is that nothing?"

"I didn’t say that," Obi-Wan denied immediately on principle, "I said I should comm him to tell him I’m home safe so he doesn’t feel the need to physically come and check on me. That’s all. Don’t make it sound worse than it is."

The Kiffar finally nodded, but it was that slow deep nod that was pure dramatic theatre. "No, you’re right, that doesn’t sound bad at all. So why is the leader of an enemy empire coming to check up on you again?"

Obi Wan shrugged a little helplessly. It was difficult to explain something he was still having a hard time grasping, even when every day he'd spent on the planet had proven to him time and again what Jaster and the Mand'alor and any other Mandalorian he'd looked even remotely nervous in front promised him unbidden - safety and care.

"Mandalorians are... kind of protective about children?" he finally started, "I mean, I saved some Mandalorian children and it took me only about ten minutes to negotiate safe passage to Manda’yaim and back home again even though all they knew was that I was a Jedi. When they realized I'm not an adult, it took me two weeks to get them to agree to let me go home. I’m pretty sure the only reason the Mand'alor even backed down was because he’d given me his word of honour about safe passage home. And even then, I had to argue them down from an armed squad joining me on my own ship to a two vessel escort back into neutral space."

"Right." He could practically hear the scepticism dripping from that one word, even if Quinlan barely put any inflection in it. "So, if they're so nice about children, shouldn't they have just let you go immediately instead of keeping you prisoner?"

Obi-Wan sighed, relaxing from his crouch and sitting down, leaning comfortably against the back of the couch. "…they weren’t sure about letting me go back to Master Jinn, I guess. My mir baar’ur was of the opinion that it was irresponsible of any adult to leave a child unaccompanied in contested space and, uh... they wanted to make sure that I was sure I wanted to go back."

Quinlan leaned in, the height difference more apparent now that Obi-Wan was seated. His friend scrutinized him for so long that the padawan was expecting another refutation, but instead the Kiffar finally asked "Your mir baar?"

"My, uh. Mind healer? I’m supposed to comm them too…" Obi Wan felt more embarrassed with every word that came out of his mouth, but with Quinlan somehow it was always difficult to just stop talking, even when it felt like he was digging himself ever deeper into a hole.

Besides, the other boy had long since proven that he wouldn't leave him alone until Obi-Wan spilled.

"Oooh. Oooh wow." Quinlan was a little wide-eyed but his expression quickly melted into a grin that couldn't mean anything good.

"What?" Obi-Wan said defensively. "It’s not like I had a lot of choice in that – apparently it’s standard procedure for anyone returning from the field to see one."

"No. No," the Kiffar said. He finally stopped looming over him, giving Obi-Wan a bit more space. "This is great. The Mandalorians think Master Jinn is an asshole. I mean I know that Master Jinn is an asshole, this is not news, but I didn’t expect an enemy empire to come to the same conclusion without even meeting the man."

"Quinlan, just what sort of discussion did I just arrive home in?" Master Tholme calmly interposed, nearly scaring Obi-Wan out of his skin. The man was so quiet he hadn’t even heard the door opening. Since when had the Master Shadow been there?

And what does Obi-Wan even say to that – what if Master Tholme thought he was a spy too? That he’d defected?

Quinlan, apparently didn’t see the problem. "If Obi doesn’t comm him, the Mand’alor is apparently coming to check up on him in person, even if he has to march on Coruscant to do it. Because even he thinks Master Jinn is the worst," his friend admitted easily as if he wasn't insulting a Jedi Master in front of another Jedi Master.

And at any other moment he'd be worrying how Master Tholme would take that and how his friend had even made it this far as a padawan without getting in massive trouble with the Council, but right now the more important thing was stopping any sort of increase in hostilities from occurring because the Jedi Order thought the Mandalorians were going to attack the very seat of the Republic.

Obi-Wan closed his eyes for a moment, mustering up calm and fortitude to explain this in a more rational way. He stood up, facing Master Tholme and feeling like a youngling who... well, who had been hiding behind the couch. The man didn't look angry, at least, just nodded at him with respectful patience.

Alright then. Obi-Wan could do this. If he could negotiate with the Mand'alor himself, he could explain himself to his friend's Jedi Master. "It has nothing to do with Master Jinn," Obi Wan started slowly. "The Mand’alor made me the promise of safe passage home. He is dutybound or honourbound or something to ensure as much. If I got captured by pirates on the way, that wouldn’t reflect well on him. So I need to let him know that I made it home safe, so that he knows he doesn’t need to muster up some sort of army to come rescue me - to ensure that he keeps his promise as a Mandalorian. Not that… not anything else."

Quinlan nodded along with that and, without pause, added, "But the Mandalorians still think that Master Jinn is an asshole."

"I see," Master Tholme said, sounding so unbothered that Obi-Wan had to stare at him. There was no sign of anything on the man's face despite the fact that surely coming home to a conversation like this must trouble him.

Then again, this was Quinlan's Master... Perhaps in comparison to riding herd on Quinlan during a mission this was simply a peaceful evening?

"Very well, then, go ahead and comm him." the man easily agreed, "I hope you don’t mind me supervising?"

Obi-Wan stared back at the man like an animal caught in a trap before finally deflating. "No, Master Tholme."

Reluctantly, he walked around the couch, to accept the comm that the Jedi Master offered him. If he shot Quinlan a look on the way, that was fully earned.

The feared leader of the Mandalorian Empire answered his comm with a short "'lek."

"Uh, Mand'alor." Obi-Wan started, feeling oddly self-conscious when faced with the holo image of the Mand'alor, wearing his buy'ce.

He had to remind himself that this was the same person who had, if Jaster's stories were to be believed, once tried to prank his buir, only to have it backfire spectacularly because instead of Jaster, the single other person in their compound who drank tea opened up the package that Jango had booby-trapped. Baar’ur Talir hadn't appreciated the new paint job.

Jango had apparently spent nearly a month hiding from Baar’ur Talir, in vain, because he'd gotten injured by pulling a stupid stunt during his sen'tra practice and was promptly brought to their domain. He didn't know what the baar’ur's revenge had been or how long they'd kept Jango in their clutches because that was the moment the Mand'alor had interrupted the story by throwing a bread roll at his buir.

The point was, this was just Jango.

A point that was quickly evidenced by removal of said emotionless helmet to reveal a familiar face. "Ob'ika. Everything alright?" The man's eyes slid for a moment towards Master Tholme before settling back on him.

"Yes, I made it home safely," Obi-Wan stated. "Master Che checked me over and sent me off to rest. I have an appointment with the Council tomorrow to talk about what happened."

"Hmm... Master Che... A baar'ur?"

Obi-Wan nodded.

"Jate." The man now turned fully towards the only other presence in his field of vision. Master Tholme was seated a little to the left, behind Obi-Wan and had kept quiet during that short exchange. "Are you his jetii'buir, then?"

The use of mando'a was deliberate and rude, but Obi-Wan swallowed down his need to explain the meaning or misconception in that word to either of them.

"I am Jedi Master Tholme," Quinlan's Master spoke up and he clearly understood what Jango meant because he continued unhurriedly. " I am afraid Master Jinn has not yet returned to the Temple. Obi-Wan is staying with my padawan and I for the moment."

The Mand'alor stared, unflinching and cold in the blue light of the holo. "Your padawan?"

"Hi," Quinlan greeted shamelessly, leaning into the frame of the comm. Obi-Wan had turned at the interruption and saw Tholme close his eyes for a moment as if he was reaching into the Force for patience. Obi-Wan restrained the urge to do something similar. Not to get a handle on his emotions, though, but to stop himself from watching this speeder wreck.

His friend flawlessly ignored them both. "I’m Quinlan."

"Ah, the legendary Quinlan," Jango actually smiled. "I have heard of you."

"You’ve heard of me?" the Kiffar repeated, wide-eyed but not backing down.

"Hmm, something about a water fight grown so far out of proportion that it made guards believe the temple was under attack?" the Mand'alor said, his smile now sliding into a teasing grin.

"Y- I-" Quinlan stuttered and predictably turned to the only possible source of this information. "Obi-Wan! What are you telling enemy heads of state about me?"

"That you’re a menace," Obi-Wan responded, not feeling the least bit sorry about that. "Can I finish my comm now?"

"Please do," Master Tholme agreed and physically carted his padawan out of the frame. That explained a lot about that padawanship.

He stared after the two for a moment before turning back to Jango.

"Sorry about that," Obi-Wan offered awkwardly. "I promised to let you know I'd made it home safe, and I did, but Quinlan wasn't going to leave me alone, so..."

Jango didn’t seem anything but amused. "Don’t worry about it Ob’ika. Make sure you comm me if the shabuir leaves you behind again. I don’t mind coming to get you. Jaster will come too, it’ll be fine."

Obi-Wan shook his head at the not entirely reassuring reassurance. Privately he thought it was kind of... nice... that he could comm Jango if anything went wrong and the man would come, without hesitation. He just wasn't sure if any of his Jedi missions would actually be improved by what he imagined a Mandolarian ''rescue' to be like.

He ignored that image and the warm and complicated feelings it evoked with the skill of a well-trained Jedi and steered the subject to a more comfortable aside. "If Jaster comes, who will make sure his Empire doesn’t collapse?"

"My Empire. I’m the Mand’alor."

"Uh-uh," Obi-Wan agreed without agreeing, his lips twitching into smile. "But if Jaster comes who will make sure your Empire doesn’t collapse?

Jango shook his head but his grin never wavered. "You’re a brat. Be safe, ad’ika. And comm buir!"

The room was blessedly silent for a moment after his comm call.

It didn't last. Of course it didn't, Quinlan was right there.

"What the kriff. Obi-Wan, did you get adopted?"

"No!" he quickly responded. With Quinlan it was always best to deny immediately before an idea could fully sink in. Then he thought about it and added a bit sheepishly "Well sort of but not really? I’m a ward of Clan Mereel? Apparently that sort of thing doesn’t really come in a temporary form."

Thankfully, before Quinlan could jump on that, his Master put a hand on the padawan's shoulder and hummed a little in thought. "A charge of Jaster Mereel?" Master Tholme stated more than asked, "The Mand’alor’s father?"

Obi-Wan slowly nodded. "Uh. In my defence I didn’t realize he was the Mand’alor’s father until Jango started coming to dinner all the time?"

Quinlan snorted and sat down next to Obi-Wan. "Right, no that makes sense. And dinner conversations was apparently me?"

"...I mean, it’s not sensitive information?" he pointed out.

Thankfully, Master Tholme seemed to agree with him. "That’s very true, padawan. Well done. And I am also relieved to hear your stay on Mandalore was not too unpleasant."

Obi Wan looked down. "Thank you, Master Tholme," he said quietly.

Quinlan crowded up even closer to his side. "Yeah, glad you're home safe, Obi," he said, so genuine and warm that the padawan couldn't help but sink into the almost-hug. It was a reminder that he had more than duty and a desire to do good for the galaxy tying him to the Jedi. He had a home.

And he got to bask in it for just about a half-minute before his irrepressible friend opened his mouth again. "And I'm honoured you thought to spread our great deeds to the Mand'alor himself," the Kiffar said gleefully. "In fact, in case anything like this ever happens again I think we should make sure you have plenty of diverting, non-sensitive tales to tell. We could start-"

Obi Wan groaned and shifted away from Quinlan to bury his head in a pillow instead.