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Chapter Text

Jaster had hesitated for a moment when the kid had arrived with the slaves rescued from the Hutts' Offworld Mining Corporation on Bandomeer. A Jedi? What would a Jedi child be doing in there?

He had looked at the images and looked at them again and again until he accepted that it was true, he was a Jedi child. Nothing but a Jedi could throw one of his Commandos against a wall without even touching them. The way he held his hand out as he did so was also characteristic.

Just like you, he thought, another Jedi in mind.

On this occasion, he had been the one who had suffered the brunt of it. It's a weird feeling when gravity seems to get out of hand. Being seen as a threat by a wounded and frightened Jedi was not good for anyone.

He had nothing against them though, the history of their respective peoples was one thing, they were another one. Jaster and his Mandos and Feemor and his Order were their own people. They were not the past but the present and the future.

Not that he had not been criticised at the time for taking him in and providing him with shelter, food and care among his own people as well as help to return to civilisation. He had been. A lot.

In fact, he had wondered if Montross had made sure that the Jedi knew that he did not like his presence when Feemor had told him to watch out for him when they said their goodbyes. He had been amused. He had not been amused for long.

Call him paranoid or fanatical but Jaster was a religious man, he was a believer, he believed in the soul. Some things might be ritualistic and folklore but he was convinced of the existence of the soul. The fact that the Jedi, also a very religious person with powers beyond his comprehension, had said of Montross that he gave off bad vibes... that had left its mark on him.

And then one day, just to be sure and move on, he had asked a few people he trusted who were not close to Montross to investigate him.

The result had been more than disappointing, and unfortunately, because of what his instincts told him – which unfortunately believed in the Jedi's different view of the world and people – not surprising. They dealt with the traitor and that was that. He had not thought about him in years.

Maybe he had thought vaguely about the blond man when he became Mand'alor and saw Jedi emissaries attending the revels and ceremonies with anyone interested in coming to see and socialise with the new power in place, but he had his life, Feemor had his.

He had his number but he had never called. Neither had Feemor.

That had nothing to do with his current "Jedi Problem" though.

The boy... he was such a mess. Emaciated, reserved and scared of everything. Weak and sick and distrustful. They could not just bring him back like that and turn up at the gates of the Temple of Coruscant with him in tow, that would not be wise.

Jango had nearly fought to the death against Jedi literally three weeks before, he could not risk another misunderstanding and the Jedi would be suspicious of them and their intentions. What if they thought they had something to do with his previous situation? What if they accused him of kidnapping him?

It was far too risky.

They could not keep this kid though, ever since he had been rescued and treated he had refused contact from anyone and was only calm when interacting with droids, he was going to wither away if nothing was done.

How could they ensure that they had time to talk to the Jedi long enough to explain the situation without causing a diplomatic incident? Jaster knew that if it was him and it was Jango, it did not matter that his son was twenty-two, he would shoot first and ask questions later. That is, if they were still alive enough to talk. He would need someone who was openminded and understood that they were not the enemy.

A friendly Jedi, so to speak.

OK, so it looks like that com number he had never suppressed was going to come in handy after all.

Please, may he still be alive and able to come.

Jaster - I don't know if you remember me, I'm a Mandalorian, we met about ten years ago.

He did not know if he would remember his name, he had not just spoken to him at the time, perhaps he had other Mandalorians in his contacts.

Feemor (Jedi) - I remember you, Jaster. How have you been?

Jaster - Fine, I need your help though, do you think you can come?

Feemor (Jedi) - So mysterious... where are you now?

He laughed at this, clearly the guy was not into the politics of their Sector. That said, the Outer Rim was of little interest to the Core.

Jaster - Mandalore (Planet).

Feemor (Jedi) - Let me check.

Feemor (Jedi) - I'm not really around at the moment and I'm finishing up a mission. How urgent is it?

Jaster - It's not really urgent, but it's quite important.

The answer took several minutes to come, making Jaster realise that the other man must have been seriously rethinking his schedule.

Feemor (Jedi) - Let's say in nine days?

Jaster thought about it. The kid had probably disappeared a while ago, so a few more days would not make any difference at this point. Maybe they would even get him to talk a bit by then.

Jaster - That's fine by me.

Jaster - I'll send you the coordinates where to land and an access code.

Feemor (Jedi) - Much appreciated, thank you.

There, problem solved. He was pretty proud of himself if he had to be honest. A Jedi was going to reassure the kid and be the intermediary between his traumatised little being and his mystical Order shrouded in mystery.

"Buir, why are you laughing alone in the living room, staring at the wall?"

"Someone trustworthy and neutral is coming to pick up the ad. How's Silas?"

"He's doing well!" Jango replied with a relaxed smile as he headed for his room. "The baar'ure say he's fine, we were quick enough that nothing happened to him."

Good. Jango had attacked the mine where they had found the Jedi after Silas had been kidnapped on a reconnaissance mission to uncover a criminal organisation trying to gain a foothold in the Mandalorian system. The Hutts running the Offworld Mining Corporation would not make a fuss so as not to alienate Jaster and his warlike, determined and extremely stubborn population and they must have been as tired by the whole mess as they were.

"What are you doing?" He asked when seeing him dressed more classily than usual under his armour.

"I'm going out."

"Alone? Where exactly?"

"Buir, I'm not a child anymore!"

"I have no desire to find you with an explosive collar around your neck because you're going to the wrong place or with the wrong people."

"He's an Aruetii bounty hunter I've known for a while, he's nice and since he was in the area we're going for a drink, that's all."

That's all. Which meant that was not all. He would not try to convince him that it was all there were to it if it really was all there was to it.

"And can I have the name, most recent address and full description of this person?"

His son smiled mischievously at him from the doorway.

"Hmm... let me think about it. No!"

"Jan'ika-"

"Bye Buir, good night Buir!"

He had never met anyone his son was really interested in. None. In fact, considering his reaction when he subtly tried to ask about his interest in marrying a Mando girl to have lots of Mando babies, he suspected his son might be gay or even just completely disinterested in relationships and tried to show support, but with no certainties about what he needed to support to reassure him that his love was unconditional... well, it was as complicated as one could imagine.

Let him enjoy himself, though.

A bit of recklessness before the responsibilities start piling up would do him no harm.

He checked the text exchange he had just had and could not help smiling as he noticed that even after all this time he was considered an ally who was not once questioned or even interrogated. Damn, he had not even told him why he wanted him to come. It spoke volumes about his sense of loyalty.

To be quite honest, Jaster was excited to see him again. He could not wait for him to be there. Such a shame he could not make him stay.

Chapter Text

The message had come as a surprise to Feemor, mainly because there was no name associated with it.

Inconnu - I don't know if you remember me, I'm a Mandalorian, we met about ten years ago.

Ten years ago? That was a long time, and without meaning to brag about it… Feemor had met more Mandalorians than the average. Which one were they, and why did he have their number?

The Jedi Knight then calmed down, rationalised the situation and retrieved his datapad to check something.

His com had recently been destroyed, the sad tale of a bar brawl that had resulted in an Anx stepping on his bag. An Anx being an Anx, anything in his bag unfortunate enough to have been in the path of his foot had been crushed beyond repair.

That was it, he realised as he checked the copy of his address book on his datapad and the numbers in his com. He had not realised that the Temple had not given him the old numbers but only the numbers he needed at the time. Which, yeah, made sense considering they did not have a record of his life at all times and copies of his personal stuff, the idea alone was bizarre, but absolutely impractical for this kind of case.

That said, this was the first com he had destroyed in over thirty years, so he had no way of knowing that beforehand.

The Jedi dialled the number and something came up.

Jaster MEREEL (Clan), Mandalorian (‘True Mandalorian / Commando’)

"Jaster," he murmured aloud, "Jaster... oh yes, Jaster!"

He remembered him, a nice Mandalorian mercenary leader. Yeah, the sentence was strange. But no less true nonetheless.

Especially considering that he had not been at his best for their meeting. Had not he nearly killed him? In any case, he had had the upper hand, Jaster was not used to fighting a Jedi while Feemor unfortunately had some experience of people shooting at him.

It was a rather deserted planet that perhaps did not even really have an official name if he remembered correctly. He had been investigating a child disappearance and had traced it back to large-scale human trafficking to run mines that required small workers. Of course, the Hutts were not the only ones to use slaves as workers in the mines but the Offworld Mining Corporation was really a special case, even for their usual standard. He had been captured but not killed, they had not dare harm him too much until they knew he had reinforcements nearby and he had managed to use a tiny window to escape. He had literally spent days wandering around in the wild until he finally came across some people. He would have died of dehydration had it not been for Jaster and his men.

What a pleasure to hear from him, he had never dared call him again because the man had his own life and did not deserve to be bothered by someone like him who had already been a major inconvenience throughout their first meeting, but he was delighted to know that he was still alive and doing well.

Feemor - I remember you, Jaster. How have you been?

Jaster - Fine, I need your help though, do you think you can come?

For a man who had saved him, Feemor would be delighted to offer his services for free. He was indebted to him, even though the other man had clearly said he was not at the time. As far as Feemor was concerned, he did owe him a debt and this was his chance to settle it and put the record straight.

Feemor - So mysterious... where are you now?

Jaster - Mandalore (Planet).

Strangely enough, Feemor was surprised by this, he thought they were mercenaries always on the move... but then again, even travellers had the right to return home to their ancestral homeland from time to time. Mandalore, Mandalore... where was that again? He could not remember.

Feemor - Let me check.

It was not exactly far according to his datapad, but it was not next door either, and the negotiations in which the Order had commissioned Feemor to respond to the request for mediation from clients seeking an impartial opinion were not exactly over.

Feemor - I'm not really around at the moment and I'm finishing up a mission. How urgent is it?

Jaster - It's not really urgent, but it's quite important.

So he could finish this mediation calmly and without rushing – rushing into negotiations was usually the first step towards disaster – and think about what had happened, what remained to be discussed and how long he thought it might take. He was not entirely sure, it had not been that long since he had started taking on this sort of mission on his own. Hmm...

Feemor - Let's say in nine days?

Jaster - That's fine by me.

Jaster - I'll send you the coordinates where to land and an access code.

Feemor - Much appreciated, thank you.

Feemor did not expect to see Jaster again one day, his life consisted of going from mission to mission with the Temple and the Order as his only ties, he did not really have any friends outside this background, none that were close to him in any case. He was glad to have the chance to see him again, though, and was looking forward to it. It was not until he was meditating before going to sleep that he swore out loud.

"Damn!"

He'd forgotten to ask what it was about. It probably did not matter that much. He would find out soon enough.

Anyway, it was not as if it was going to be something so serious that it would change his life, there was nothing to worry about.

Chapter Text

Obi-Wan stared at the man who approached the bench where he had taken refuge. He had finally made it outside after a panic attack in his room. It looked like he would not do well for a while trapped within four walls.

How surprising

He had been surprised to actually be allowed outside, but he could assume that even though he was a Jedi, he did not scare them. And that was, after all, an understandable attitude on their part. He was unarmed, weakened and terrified, he would be killed in less than a minute by any of their warriors.

It was worth noting that this certainty did nothing to help him sleep at night.

The man was in his early twenties and smiling, but the young Jedi would not be fooled by a deceptive false friendliness designed to lull him into a dangerous sense of security. They had separated him from the other slaves because they knew he was different and Obi-Wan knew that being different was not to his advantage here. They wanted something from him and he did not want to do or say anything until he knew what it was.

It was the only protection he had left at this point. He was useful to them in one way or another and had to find out what they wanted before they got rid of him... again, in one way or another.

Obi-Wan did not believe in a final death. When he died, he would return to the Force. As a result, there were fates he feared far more than death.

And, at every instant he was left alone, his mind was constantly competing with ingenuity to find new ones.

Perhaps some interaction with a real person this time would do him good, he needed to be distracted from his macabre suppositions.

"Hi kid."

... or maybe not.

He was thirteen, seriously, what thirteen-year-old boy wanted to be called "kid"?

The man laughed softly, sitting down next to him.

"Yeah, sorry, you must be about the right age to have a Beskar'gam."

Considering Obi-Wan did not know what it was, he could not exactly say no. Also, if he were old enough to travel the Republic and beyond armed with the Force and a lightsaber, he supposed he was old enough for just about anything. It did not seem to him that he had much innocence left to save anyway.

"Not very talkative, hmm?"

The man simply smiled as he gave him a dirty look. With a black eye, a swollen face and split lips, Obi-Wan was not exactly reassured by him smiling. Quite the opposite, in fact.

People who smiled when they should not were often dangerous or mad as hatters, sometimes both.

"I'm going to show you something, but don't tell anyone, OK?"

Beyond worrying that he would unzip his trousers because that kind of line was pretty scary when you were a troubled young teenager isolated with an unknown adult with no neutral witnesses around, Obi-Wan did not understand why he was bothering to tell him this considering that the man clearly knew who he was and was therefore aware of things concerning him: he literally had not spoken to anyone since he' had arrived here, he had not said a word, at any time.

Whatever he said or did, Obi-Wan had no intention of repeating it.

He was surrounded by suspicious people anyway.

The man raised his hands and Obi-Wan watched warily as he reached around his neck and pulled down the collar of his black top, revealing damaged and raw skin with patterns Obi-Wan recognised immediately. He saw the same ones every day in the mirror.

"You..."

The words fell silent before they were even spoken, but Obi-Wan knew he had been understood.

"Yes, I was there too. We know that you have abilities that are greater than any of us, and perhaps stronger than what you can control yourself, but you have to understand that they didn't come for you, they came to save me."

As luck would have it... it's as if the Force had wanted it to happen, but that would not make any sense. He was born to be a Jedi. He was sure of it.

"My name is Silas."

"Obi-Wan," he replied, shaking the outstretched hand.

It was impossible to find someone with just that, especially a child who had lived on the fringes of the world in a Temple that protected its own people. And anyway, he had no bound with his biological family. No connection at all.

"You know, if you told us who you were, we could at least try to find your family."

Obi-Wan rolled his eyes. His family... what family? The blood family that had abandoned him forever before he was even three, or the Temple that had done the same after ten years?

He knew he should not think like that and be so bitter about it, but he could not help it. He was angry, hurt and just felt so terribly wronged.

He had not done anything to deserve this. Granted, he had never been the brightest student or the most disciplined but… he still wanted to be a Jedi too.

"Family? I've no use for that, I've nowhere to go back to."

"You mean you're an orphan?"

"In a way, yes."

"So you're available for adoption?"

"I wouldn't say that either," he muttered cautiously, moving a little further away from him.

Err... no. All he needed was for them to secure some form of authority over him by having him falsely adopted by one of their own. That was one of his main worries at the moment, that they wanted to take advantage of him or his powers in some way. Or maybe they wanted to harm the Order through him.

Who knows, he did not know anything about Mandalorians apart from the fact that they were extremely dangerous and to be wary of.

Silas tried to keep the conversation flowing for a while but Obi-Wan just stopped answering until he stood up.

He thought he had worn him down.

It would seem he was more stubborn than he had expected him to be.

"My friend Jango and his father Jaster wanted to invite you to lunch with us, would you like to come?"

He did not have much choice, did he? Obi-Wan had heard Jaster Mereel's name several times, he knew he was someone important. If he wanted to meet Obi-Wan, the safest thing for his immediate future was to say yes.

The redhead nodded and followed him in silence, bowed in silence to the two men waiting at the table and ate in silence.

"It'll be over soon, ad'ika." Mr Mereel said to him as he left the table.

"Hmm?"

"Someone's coming to get you in a fortnight' time."

Which meant that he had to escape from here by any means necessary by then.

He had ten days, that would be enough.

It had to be enough.

Chapter Text

With no real time to look after a child, Jaster made sure he kept an eye on his charge. He did not want Feemor to arrive and be unable to inform him of anything. It was also a matter of honour for him to take care of a foundling who belonged to a friend.

He came up against a tiny problem though. So tiny. Nothing too serious.

They were not having any conversations. At all. Never.

It was problematic.

Despite his insistence on always being there in the evening to eat with the young man who had introduced himself to Silas as "Obi-Wan", although after seeing how careful he was he would not be surprised if it was a false name, the boy refused to engage in any kind of discussion with him. He did not understand, the redhead was talking to other warriors, he was asking questions about the palace and its protection – understandable concerns for a recently kidnapped child – and he was even following Silas on patrol so he would not be isolated all the time but when he was with Jaster it was silence all over again.

He had tried a bit of everything. Ask about his health? "The doctors say I'll be fine." His morale? "I'm fine." His needs? "I don't need anything."

Exhausting.

It was tiring going round in circles and not getting nowhere, but Jaster prioritised the young man's needs over his own curiosity and accepted his short answers without ever insisting. Perhaps he would be more open when Feemor was here. Or maybe even then it would take time. They had to be patient with him.

He was not used to being patient with people but every time his temper threatened to flare he saw the red marks on his neck and all his annoyance evaporated.

Jaster had thought that everything was fine and that everything would be fine from then on, especially when nothing had happened in the twelve days since their offensive to get Silas back. Everyone had expected a sneak attack rather than a direct one, so they had – relatively speaking, of course – relaxed their vigilance.

Then the Jedi kid tried to run away and was shot by his men during the attempt. When they realised who it was, they stopped, but the child had taken the opportunity to retaliate with his magic, so they had tried to neutralise him peacefully, which, it had to be said, was not their speciality. Obi-Wan had ended up stunned and had fallen from the roof of a building straight into the arms of a Besalisk who was watching the fighting from a distance.

It should be noted that he had almost been shot too, as nobody wanted the child under Jaster's protection to be abducted by a stranger. This had also been narrowly avoided. Because Jango had interfered.

That was worth repeating and emphasising. Jango, his son, had come between his comrades and an aruetii. This Dexter Jettster now had his full attention as a curious father.

Particularly since he and this "friend" were returning from a bar at the time, that the Besalisk had been following things from the street even after Jango had taken off in his jetpack and rescued the baby Jedi his own Jedi friend was coming to collect.

That is, if said stupid child did not break his neck first. Manda, children were so complicated sometimes.

"What was that, ad'ika?"

Obi-Wan did not look at him, pouting, curled up on his bed. They had removed everything from the room that could be dangerous if used creatively. In other words, almost everything.

"You could have died, what were you trying to achieve?"

A shrug.

"You're leaving in two days at the most, we've done everything to make sure you're comfortable here, why do something so risky?"

"Two days?"

"Yes, two days, are you really so impatient that you can't wait two days before going home?"

"You don't know where my home is."

"You're a Jedi, any Jedi will successfully help you get where you need to go... what?" He asked as he saw him looking at him in confusion. "Did you think we didn't know? You're a Jedi child, it's obvious to anyone who's ever met one. I told you someone was coming for you, what did you think I was saying?"

"Slavers would give a lot for trained Jedi children."

He thought they were gonna sell him.

Damn.

"That's a Jedi who's coming for you," he finally says, surprised that this finally provoked a reaction.

"Master Jinn?" The redhead asked with such hope in his eyes that Jaster felt sick.

Jinn? No, he distinctly remembered that Feemor had no other name or Clan at the time.

"No, not Jinn, Feemor. I met him years ago, an honourable man," he said gently.

But the child was sad again and Jaster failed to comfort him, no matter how much he pretended to be fine and smiled bravely to reassure him. He had hoped for this Jinn. He was sad and hurt.

"No more wild surprises."

"I promise."

This awkward status quo continued until he was hailed as he went to eat in town with some friends and family, intercepted by one of his verde.

"Alor-"

She did not have time to say a word when the man behind her greeted him with a familiarity that made him feel as if not a day had passed since the last time he saw him.

"Jaster, nice to see you again."

"The pleasure is mine, Feemor," he replied quickly, seeing the indignation of his people at the familiarity of the blond man who was a stranger in their eyes, hoping to clear up the misunderstanding by subtly showing that they knew each other and that formality was not expected of him. "How is life so far as a Jedi?"

"As well as could be expected," the blond man replied with a smile that Jaster found slightly insincere without being able to explain why.

Were things not going well for him? Did he need help? He would try to offer his assistance subtly.

After all, there were few problems that flamethrowers and grenades could not solve.

"Come on, it's this way. He'll be delighted to see you, even if he doesn't know you personally."

"Who exactly are you talking about?"

Jaster waited until they had arrived and pointed to the solitary figure in the middle of the garden, watching with great curiosity, interest and intrigue as the Jedi leaned over the balustrade of the balcony where he had brought them, as if to get a better look.

"He doesn't have a braid in his hair, does he?"

"He doesn't."

"Are you absolutely sure?"

Jaster thought about it for a moment before confirming.

"I'm sure, no braid. Does a Master Jinn mean anything to you? It was the only name he said."

"Qui-Gon Jinn?"

So he knew them.

"All he said was Jinn. Do you know them?"

"Hmm... we'll see. Can I go talk to him?"

"You may. We rescued him from a mine amongst other slaves, it'll do him good to talk to one of his own."

A hand rested briefly on his shoulder.

"Thank you for everything."

He nodded, watching from a distance as they met before letting them speak in private.

He had done his part, the rest was out of his hands.

Chapter Text

Feemor had kept the "Jinn" aspect in the back of his mind as he approached the isolated child who straightened at his approach before he could see or hear him. He turned towards him, probably sensing the special energy of a Jedi in the Force, and jumpt to his feet, disbelief all over his face as he looked him up and down several times.

"Hello, I'm Feemor."

"I'm Obi-Wan Kenobi, Master," the Initiate replied politely as he bowed deeply, looking intimidated.

Seeing the redhead so small and young and so wounded, Feemor could not help hoping even harder that, against all odds, it was not his Master Jinn. Things were pretty tense at the moment, adding a kid to the situation would be catastrophic.

With Xanatos having almost revealed himself a month earlier, Qui-Gon and Feemor were both on high alert while the Fallen Padawan had disappeared again. Qui-Gon had tried to investigate but he was not a specialist and the Order had been too slow to send someone competent. It was too late, Xanatos was free and they now knew they were not safe. If a child unexpectedly entered Qui-Gon's inner circle, he would immediately become a target.

Xanatos would not hesitate to hurt innocent people, they could not involve this poor boy even inadvertently.

"May I call you Obi-Wan?"

"Of course."

"Thank you. How are you?"

"I'm fine."

"I'm sorry but my friend Jaster didn't really give me any details. Could you explain what happened to you?"

"You... really are friends?" Obi-Wan asked, looking over to where he had left Jaster to approach, looking as if he could not believe it.

Was this how Jaster had described him to the boy? Feemor hid his hands in his sleeves, pleasantly surprised and flattered. The words had just come out, but they were no less true for him.

"We're not close but I consider him a friend, he's an honourable man, he practically saved my life ten years ago. Did he tell you the story?"

A negative head movement made him look back but the Mandalorian's silhouette had disappeared, he had left them alone. So thoughtful. Just like back then.

"Shame, I was so dehydrated on the first day that I don't remember much. You didn't believe him, did you?"

He sheepishly looked away, and Feemor silently offered him to walk with him.

"You've done nothing wrong, it's reasonable to be wary of strangers, especially when you're defenceless. Were they nice with you? I know they can be a bit scary."

Well, it was not actually that they were scary per se as much as they made people uncomfortable because of all their cultural differences which made them abrasive and threatening for no reason but he did not need to detail it if Obi-Wan had been there for more than ten days: he already knew that.

"They were... Yes, very nice. Will you tell them I'm sorry I didn't believe them and tried to run away? I didn't apologise for that."

Feemor raised a curious eyebrow at that.

"You tried to run away? And you're still alive?"

The boy's face flushed.

"They knocked me out anyway," he muttered.

"Hey, be glad you're not dead, they're pretty well trained."

Some of the best you'll find in their field, in fact.

"He told me about a mine...?" He tried again to bring the conversation back to where he wanted it, hoping to get some information without rushing him.

As expected, just talking about it unsettled the boy, his presence changing instantly in the Force to become darker and sharper. He probably had not yet seen a mental healer or meditated to detach himself from the trauma. Nothing unexpected at this point.

"I don't really know what to say, I was captured and then I was in the mines."

"Where were you taken, Coruscant?"

Were there any security breaches at the Temple? But if there were, why would they send the boy to a mine? A Jedi child would have more market value elsewhere.

"No, Bandomeer."

"Can you tell me why an Initiate would travel alone to Bandomeer?"

Somehow, Feemor sensed perfectly that this question was even more painful to him than the one about the mine. The feeling of distress, despair and misery that came over the young man was deep and brutal. All-consuming.

"I've... I was sent to the Agricorps."

And clearly not of his own choosing. Which meant that no one had offered him the chance to be their Padawan. Touchy subject.

"Alone?" He insisted gently, finding it strange.

"Yes, well, I met Master Jinn on the way, I hoped he might agree to take me on as a Padawan because he didn't know me, but he refused."

As he should have. He was not ready and the failure of Xanatos was not to be repeated.

"Does Qui-Gon Jinn know that you've disappeared?"

"I'm not really sure," the child replied, unaware that by not reacting to the name Qui-Gon he had just identified Master Jinn with certainty as Feemor's former teacher and mentor. "That's why I thought it was him who was coming when Mr Mereel told me a Jedi was on the way."

What have you done, Qui-Gon?

"I see. Well, we'll take the time to clarify a few details, but in the meantime you're going to return with me to Coruscant, where it's best to have experienced Healers examine you and check that nothing has happened to you without your knowledge. I arrived by civilian transport without knowing why Jaster was bringing me here, so I hadn't planned the return journey, I'm going to take care of finding a hotel and getting us back. Did the Mandalorian doctors tell you to be careful about your condition?"

"No, I can travel."

Feemor nodded, smiling slightly at the boy before smiling more frankly as he saw that it relaxed him.

"Let’s go together, you can come with me while I take care of those things."

He could feel his need for attention and company by the way he immaterially clung to him even though he did not seem to be doing it consciously. Children. Naturals.

They walked around the city and first booked a ride to the Middle Rim and then to Coruscant from there and then looked for a hotel for him to get a room for the night. He had not even reached the reception of the place he had chosen when he received a message.

Jaster - You know that you're my guest and that my guests don't sleep in hotels, don't you?

Feemor watched this with an unimpressed look on his face, showing the message to Obi-Wan who understood immediately, looking around warily.

Feemor - Are you watching me?

Jaster - Of course not.

Jaster - One of my Commandos is.

Jaster - For your own safety, I think it's important to say, I didn't mean to cause any offence.

Hmm... he doubted it. He was not questioning his word on the safety aspect, and Jaster had no reason to doubt him, especially as he had brought him here himself, but to the extent that his warrior informed him that he was entering a hotel? They must have been terrible gossipers, even if he would probably deny it.

Feemor - What if I choose the hotel?

Jaster - You'd be insulting my hospitality.

Jaster - But I wouldn't stop you.

He shook his head at that. How ridiculous. Subtly but definitely there.

Feemor - I wouldn't want to refuse bed and board if you're offering it, I'm staying.

Jaster - We'll see you at dinner then, meet me in the garden where I left you.

Jaster - Bring the boy.

Feemor smiled at this, putting a hand on Obi-Wan's shoulder to encourage him to head for the exit. Of course he was going to take him with him. He would not have it any other way.

Chapter Text

Obi-Wan had remained as silent as possible as he followed Master Feemor into town. He had already humiliated himself by admitting that he had not believed his saviour that he was friends with a Jedi, and he did not want to add to that.

Following this man, even though he did not know him at all, was a constant relief. His energy and mind were as calm as water and offered a marvellous contrast to the Mandalorians around him, who were nothing but hotheads, always quick to react to everything as if they constantly had to do everything in their power. They exhausted him, Master Feemor soothed him. Obi-Wan had never realised before how much help he needed to feel serene and safe before this moment.

All his sharp edges, it was as if the patient, gentle blond man was rounding them off one after the other without even partially trying. As if it was obvious to him. In his nature.

"So... now that we know we're being followed..."

Obi-Wan looked up from the floor, attentive.

"Master?"

"What would you say if I suggested we disappear for a while?"

When Obi-Wan did not understand, the man pointed to the void above which they were standing and Obi-Wan leaned over the railing, still confused. What was there to see? The bridge was above buildings and the Initiate found it hard to understand where he wanted to disappear to here.

"A moment away from prying eyes seems necessary. Will you come with me?"

Obi-Wan nodded instinctively, fully trusting a Jedi Master even though he had not yet detailed his plan. A hand came to rest on his shoulder and he watched the man move towards him in a way that made him feel vaguely uncomfortable as hands came to rest on his waist, but he had no time to worry any further as he was lifted, moved with a deft motion over the back of the Jedi who jumped up and over the railing in an athletic movement.

Obi-Wan had never hugged anyone so tightly in his life, his arms and legs wrapped tightly around the Master who said nothing, landing nimbly on a roof before leaping into an alleyway to move quickly away.

Strangely enough, when they stopped and Master Feemor pulled him down, they were almost back to where they started.

"Classic tactics," was the answer to his silent questioning. "Since we've fled this place, it's the last place they'll check, and we're well covered here."

Obi-Wan trusted him on this, as he was not at all experienced in these matters, and instinctively lowered his eyes from the canvas that provided shade on the terrace of the café where they had taken refuge when warriors in jetpacks flew overhead at high speed.

He did not want to get shot again, the last time had been enough to last a lifetime, he had thought they were really going to kill him.

"Perfect, no one around."

"What's going on?"

Master Feemor turned to him and leaned over him slightly.

"Nobody's watching us here, and nobody can hear us. If they've said or done anything to you, now's the time to speak up."

Obi-Wan's eyes widened and he swallowed as he saw the Master's full attention focused on him. He... it was for him? He had done all this, getting away from the Mandalorians who were watching them, to check that Obi-Wan was really alright and not keeping quiet for fear of reprisals?

"I'm really fine, they've been nothing but nice, I swear."

"You admitted to trying to escape before I arrived."

Ahh... embarrassing.

"I thought they were going to give me to someone dodgy, the problem wasn't their attitude, it was that I didn't believe them when they told me they were benevolent."

"Are you sure? You're my priority, you don't have to be afraid, I'll believe you and protect you no matter what you tell me."

Don't cry, Obi-Wan, don't cry...

It was one of the nicest things anyone had ever said to him in his life. He had no doubt that most Jedi felt the same way about their children, but it was something everyone knew without saying it. Saying it was... well, it felt different, strangely.

"They scare me a bit and I didn't feel safe, but in the end it's all right, isn't it?"

Master Feemor smiled gently and nodded to confirm his words.

"You're right, everything's fine. What about taking a little time to collect our thoughts and relax before heading home, how does that sound?"

Obi-Wan nodded and closed his eyes as the Jedi did so, trying to find his own rhythm without being disturbed by the noise, the heat or the nervous feelings of the Mandalorian citizens around him who were going about their daily lives without pausing to give him time to breathe-

"Ignore them," Master Feemor said softly, "they're far away, focus on me."

Obi-Wan tried, he sincerely did, but at the end of the day he felt completely out of touch with this normal aspect of his life. He could not synchronise, it was as if he had forgotten everything, lost everything. He could not do it.

"Hmm... I think I'm about to fall asleep, we should probably leave."

Obi-Wan opened his eyes at this – did he really hear that?! – and watched in amazement as the Jedi Master stretched, drank his coffee in one gulp and stood up.

"Are you ready?"

Meditation was supposed to be serious business, Obi-Wan had only done it with Master Yoda and had never have imagined that someone could be a Jedi Master and be so relaxed about it.

"But the meditation..."

"There's plenty of time for that, don't you think?"

Obi-Wan was not going to say no to that, he was not in the right frame of mind at the moment.

"I'm with you!"

They were not stopped on their way to the palace where he was staying in the medical annex, but most of the faces and helmets turned towards them, everyone staring. For his part, Master Feemor walked serenely, subtly amused in the Force. He really felt at ease... maybe Obi-Wan should not worry so much.

On the other hand, in the last month, being defensive had more than once saved his life or enabled him to escape punishment.

They had barely entered the inner garden, which was the only place he went to on a regular basis, when Mr Mereel came striding up and stopped right in front of them, looking at Master Feemor with a frustrated expression.

"You left my men behind."

"Oh my," his guardian replied in a falsely apologetic tone, "I'm sorry, I didn't think they'd be so easily outrun by a little jump off a bridge."

Obi-Wan looked at Mr Mereel, worried about his reaction and wondering if such an outrageously blatant lie would get through, relieved to see the man hold back an amused smile as if this were some kind of joke between them and not a serious matter.

"Jetii osik," the man simply mumbled, shaking his head. "Never mind, come on, Jango's waiting for us."

"Jango... your son, isn't it? How is he?"

"He's my pride and joy."

"... and what else?"

"Yes, I know what you're going to say, he nearly fought to the death with some Jedi recently but it was an accident and all ended well."

"I wasn't aware of that," the blond man murmured to Obi-Wan with an amused expression before turning back to their host with an impeccable Sabacc face. "Yes, everything turn out all right."

Obi-Wan lowered his head to hide a smile and sat down at the table in front of Jango to eat, noticing that Feemor's cutlery had not been placed next to him but in front of Jaster. He wondered if this was normal. When Silas was here, he was next to Jango, not facing Jaster in a place of honour at the table.

Perhaps it was to mark the occasion because they had not seen each other for so long? In any case, now that he was not so wary, the meal was much more pleasant. He even spoke a little when he was asked questions.

He could imagine the family dinners of normal people like that.

It was... really nice.

Chapter Text

Jaster waited until Feemor was seated in the chair in front of him before asking. He had discreetly asked him to come back after putting Obi-Wan to bed. Better to talk about it when he was not here.

"So, how is the boy?"

"As well as can be expected."

So not great.

"I've tried to help him calm down a few times since earlier, but it's complicated."

"Were you able to find out anything more? He wasn't very talkative with us."

"Yes, he told me about it. He apologises for that."

Jaster brushed it off: it was not important.

"Can you talk about it?"

"He was captured on his way to Bandomeer."

"The mine where we found him was on Bandomeer."

Feemor's face tightened for a moment.

"Damn. I'd tell the Council to send him to another planet and to avoid it even for the next children."

"So he was sent there?"

"He was."

"By himself?"

"He was supposed to join the Service Corps located on the planet, it wasn't supposed to be a dangerous trip."

Jaster was discovering a lot of new words, he was not sure he quite understood.

"The Service Corps?"

"Since no one chose him as a Padawan, I guess the Council of Reassignment chose what was best for him."

Padawan, he knew this one. The descendants they taught everything to like a Mando with his ade. And he said he was not chosen?

"Why don't you take him yourself?"

Judging by the look of utter bewilderment on his face, far from his usual impassivity, Jaster seemed to have said a hell of a stupid thing.

"Me?"

"... Yeah?"

Adoption did not only come to ready men. Jaster had not wanted to be a father when he had met Jango. He took him on out of a sense of duty to his family. Love developed gradually.

"That's impossible."

"Why is that?" He asked, curious.

"It's... don't get me wrong, it's not that I don't want a Padawan, quite the opposite in fact."

Jaster said nothing, simply tilting his head, waiting for him to explain. If he had this desire to protect and train the next generation, what was holding him back? From his point of view, he did not think he was unfit.

The Manda knew that lesser men had become fathers.

"Generally speaking, it's not something we decide on our own," the blond mystic priest began to explain. "Sometimes a child and a Master will feel attracted to each other and the pair will form naturally, but generally speaking young people are observed and then selected by the teachers who judge their skills and character before offering them to be their pupil."

Well, it was... pragmatic, to say the least.

"So… there's nothing to stop you going to the young people to choose one of them," he pointed out to him to highlight a flaw in his logic.

He had a feeling he was going to ask for a lot of clarification, it was obvious from the way he spoke that Feemor was not saying everything, not to hide things from him but because these things were obvious to him.

"In theory, yes, but with us there's a certain hierarchy to respect, we rarely do as we please, it's generally our elders who tell us when we're ready."

The Mandalorian could appreciate this respect for tradition, elders and the value judgement of the community in order to evolve... but at his age it seemed unnecessarily late. Especially if young people ended up without teachers.

"All that to say, I haven't yet received any formal encouragement to take an interest in teaching. And anyway, even if I wanted to, it wouldn't be wise for me to take Obi-Wan on as a Padawan now. It would be doing him a great disservice."

"What do you mean by that?"

"I have an... enemy of mine who has reappeared after some years of silence. He is dangerous and I have no doubt he would target Obi-Wan to do us harm. He'll be safer away from us."

"Do you need any help?"

"It's kind of you to ask, but this is something we have to deal with ourselves," the Jedi replied, understanding immediately what he was getting at, and Jaster agreed.

If it was a matter of honour, he had no business getting involved.

"What's going to happen to him now?"

"I'll take him to Coruscant for medical check-ups... then I guess he'll be sent to Agricorps as planned."

"So what, he won't be a Jedi but a farmer?"

"The Agricorps isn't just about growing crops, although that is indeed one of their tasks," Feemor replied with an amused smile. "Besides, providing healthy crops to the under-privileged star systems suffering from natural disasters is a noble cause. Most Jedi spend some time with the Agricorps helping people in a practical way, I did that myself for about two years. The Agricorps is above all the Corps of Researchers, their scientific work and research develops the knowledge of the Order in the same way as the medical research or space mapping of the other Corps."

Jaster said nothing, but thought no less of it. This was not the life the kid thought he would have and had wanted, no wonder he was frustrated. People often did not like that much fallback solutions.

"What if he refuses?"

"He can't really refuse, a Jedi goes where their duty take them, to refuse is... well, I suppose it would be to leave the Order, but where would he go?"

"What if I adopted him?"

"You? Adopt him?"

"He fights better than Jango did at his age, is used to a certain discipline and has a good head on his shoulders. He could be a good Mandalorian."

Fortunately he was not offended and the Jedi simply smiled.

"That's really kind of you. I can't imagine him wanting to leave everything he's ever known, but if he ever mentions it, I'll tell him, you have my word."

Jaster cracked a smile and turned the conversation towards safer topics, namely what the Jedi had been up to lately. He told him about his adventures and the absurd moments that once again made him wonder how this order was still standing and they had a good evening. It was a nice moment when he was not the Mand'alor but just Jaster Mereel, the man, and he relaxed into the warm feeling of being seen for himself and nothing more.

Of course it was only for a while. The second he left the man to rest, he gave the order to discreetly investigate anyone who might be an enemy of Feemor and wish him harm. He remained the Mand'alor.

If the Mand'alor did not protect his friends, he would not be worthy of being called Mandalorian.

Chapter Text

Feemor stopped in front of the door to Obi-Wan's room and looked at it without moving for a few minutes, waiting, probing the Force before moving away, feeling nothing in particular. The boy had finally fallen asleep during his discussion with Jaster and was not having nightmares. He could look after his own business now.

Unsurprisingly, this would be the most unpleasant part of his day. The whole thing was confusing and he was struggling to see the bigger picture. He was missing too much information.

Feemor - We'll need to have a word.

The answer was not long in coming, Feemor rarely sent this kind of message.

Qui-Gon - Is everything all right?

"No, everything's not all right," he muttered to himself, remembering the anxious flinches of the Initiate who had followed him everywhere blindly, and especially his neck.

The Mandalorians had taken care of him, but he was not so badly injured as to justify the use of bacta when the resource would inevitably be of more use elsewhere. He was only a man, seeing a wounded child distressed him.

Feemor - There are some things we need to talk about.

Qui-Gon - Can you tell me more?

They were very careful with their communications at the moment, always keeping things as short and to the point as possible.

Feemor - Bandomeer.

Now, was it clear enough or not? How the fuck could he let a child be kidnapped and do nothing about it? He should have been the first Jedi Obi-Wan saw since his disappearance because Qui-Gon should have saved him!

He had found it hard to believe when Jaster had explained in more detail the circumstances that had led to Obi-Wan's discovery and rescue, and he still could not believe it: Qui-Gon was on Bandomeer, that was where Xanatos had resurfaced, how could the situation have gone so wrong? Obi-Wan was in no danger of becoming involved: he clearly already was. Because of Qui-Gon.

Qui-Gon - I see.

Qui-Gon - I'll wait to hear from you then, for now the Council is asking me to stay at the Temple.

Feemor - I'll be back soon.

Qui-Gon - How is the mission going? Does diplomacy live up to your expectations?

Feemor - It was instructive.

Qui-Gon - So it was terrible.

Feemor - Instructive.

Qui-Gon - If you say so.

The Jedi Master shook his head at that, amused. Just because he used this kind of euphemism with politicians on a daily basis did not mean he was the same! It was not the worst, just mundane and a bit boring, but he was learning a lot and enjoying the experience. He still was not sure what kind of Jedi he wanted to be in life, he had tried a lot of things and never settled down.

Feemor - My mission's actually already over, I'm visiting an acquaintance.

Qui-Gon - Be careful.

Feemor - Don't worry, I wish a great deal of luck to anyone who tries to get to me here. They could really use it.

Qui-Gon - I'm really relieved to hear that. I'll let you enjoy your friend's company, come and see me when you get back.

Feemor - I didn't say he was a friend.

Qui-Gon - You didn't need to, Feemor. May the Force be with you.

He sighed and ran a hand through his hair, suddenly tired. Nothing had been resolved and he was none the wiser. All this was deeply shaking him.

Feemor - And with you.

He just hoped that once again Xanatos had not clouded his judgement, leading him to make the wrong decisions. It could have ended much worse for Obi-Wan, and the boy was aware of that. His innocence had been shattered in a horrible way. Even without knowing him personally, it was obvious that he was a good kid who meant well, he did not deserve this. Nobody deserved that. Hell, even Xanatos himself probably did not deserve this.

Slavery was a terrible thing, a loss of control over one's life and destiny, of one's own sense of self, it was a philosophical destruction. A month was nothing, but it was a lot. He just hoped he would get over it and bounce back.

Bounce back how exactly? A bitter thought emerged in his mind. By being sent to the Agricorps against his will? By being rejected a second time? By being forced towards an undesired destiny?

Feemor meant what he had said to Jaster: the Agricorps was far from a dishonourable and miserable end for anyone who wanted to help and serve their neighbours. At one time he had considered giving up his career as a Knight to join the Corps when the pressure of being the first Padawan of a man who had failed his second to the Darkness was too much for him to bear. Far from being terrible, the experience had been liberating. He had been able to detach himself from all the pain of supposedly being the son of farmers and had overcome all the taunts of Xanatos to reappreciate the value of simple things.

He just was not sure that going home was the best thing for Obi-Wan right now.

Feemor - Are you still awake?

The answer came before he really had a plan in mind.

Jaster - Yes.

Jaster - Are you in trouble?

Feemor - What problems could I possibly have in my room and, more generally, in a luxurious place well-guarded by Commandos?

Jaster - Ask the kid.

Obi-Wan would never hear the end of it, would he? Feemor was quite okay with that, that would teach him a lesson. It was a stupid idea.

Feemor - It's not exactly a serious problem.

Jaster - A problem doesn't have to be serious to be a problem.

Feemor - Those are very wise words, my friend.

Feemor - I suppose the great hospitality of a Jaster Mereel could extend to several days for an old friend and the wandering child who accompanies him.

Jaster - You suppose right.

Feemor - How often do civilian transport ships leave for the Core or at least the Middle Rim? I chose the route that was available for the quickest departure, so I didn't ask about their schedules.

Jaster - What did you have in mind?

Feemor - Maybe stay a few days? If that's not a problem for you?

Jaster - You're my guest, even if I have to sleep on the floor to get you a bed I'll do it and it would be an honour and a pleasure for me, so stop this way of thinking.

Feemor - Yes sir.

Jaster - Good. Why put off your departure?

Feemor - I'm thinking of doing it if Obi-Wan wishes for us to stay a bit longer, I think it would be good for him to have a few more peaceful days here.

It probably would not do him any harm to come back to Coruscant once he had calmed down a bit. If he came back with such strong and dark emotions, he would be judged for it. The Jedi Master knew that it was only a matter of a few days before he was balanced enough for them.

Jaster - Do you want me to give orders?

Feemor shook his head as he read this, a smile lighting up his face as he read that last part. Bosses. They loved giving orders.

Feemor - I'll suggest it tomorrow morning, and if he says yes then fine, you can give all the orders you want as long as we're back within 5 days.

Jasters - 5 days from today or tomorrow?

Feemor - You are aware that tomorrow is literally six minutes away, aren't you?

Jaster - That doesn't answer my question.

Feemor - 5 days from tomorrow.

Jaster - Noted.

Feemor - Thank you.

It was kind of him, he had no obligation to go out of his way. Exactly the same as he was then. A good and honourable man.

Chapter Text

Obi-Wan straightened up with a start, his hands scratching his neck blindly as a scream died in his throat, as if strangled but never quite coming out. The mine, the guards, they were going to-

BAM!

The Initiate barely felt the pain of falling to the ground with all his weight and got to his feet, quickly finding a wall in the dark to lean against, gasping for breath between irrepressible sobs as he hugged himself in the vain and superfluous hope that he would manage to feel at least a little bit safe.

There was nothing around his neck, and even though he was not very good at detecting the presence of non-Force-sensitive people, he could feel that there were a lot of people around who were not tormented.

It was not Bandomeer anymore, but that did not mean it was over, quite the opposite. Somehow, Obi-Wan suspected that it would never be over. That he would never get over it.

A warm, soft sensation, like an embrace, allowed him to breathe more freely as he looked up from his knees. The room was still pitch black, but beyond the darkness Obi-Wan could see light. Like a lighthouse gleaming in the mist.

Still not really awake and acting more on instinct than on long-considered reflection, he got up and stumbled to the door, leaning on the walls for as long as necessary until he finally felt his legs steady under him, and he moved forward without question. He had somewhere to be.

The door opened before he even got there, a warm yellow light illuminating the otherwise dark corridor.

"Come in," Master Feemor murmured with a kind, understanding smile, looking absolutely unbothered by being awake and up in the middle of the night, letting a disturbed kid into his room instead of just going back to sleep and letting him deal with it on his own because he should be able to deal with it on his own.

"I don't want to be a bother."

"You're not bothering me, I was meditating."

Obi-Wan looked around. There was no meditation mat and the bed was spotless. The sofa, on the other hand, had clearly been recently occupied because a plaid was thrown over it as if someone had wrapped themselves in it and left it behind when, he did not know, they got up to open the door to a surprise guest.

"I like to meditate lying down, but not necessarily in bed," Master Feemor explained as he sat down on the sofa, chuckling to himself as he continued. "Sometimes I get so relaxed and laid back that I fall asleep, so lying down really is perfection."

Obi-Wan smiled faintly as he imagined it before realising that perhaps that was exactly what had just happened and feeling even more like an intruder.

"Come here."

As soon as he was seated, he was wrapped in the thick, fluffy blanket.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

He shook his head before thinking because no, he did not want to talk about it, all he wanted to do was forget about it, move on and never think about it again.

"OK, we don't need to talk."

The Jedi Master turned on the television and changed channels several times, not choosing martial arts combat, war films or native historical movies but some kind of documentary on culinary traditions that they did not understand because of the language but could just about understand by following the recipe.

"Tell me how you feel."

Obi-Wan shrugged.

"Tired."

"What else?"

He did not know, tired defined it well.

"Numb?"

The blond man turned to look at him.

"Why do you feel numb?"

Force, even thinking was tiring.

"I... feel like I've lost control of everything," he tried to explain, "like I'm in a dream, except that it's a nightmare and I never wake up."

A hand came to rest on his over the cloth.

"You're awake, Obi-Wan. The nightmares are over. Nightmares belong in sleep now, not to wakefulness."

He knew it, he was aware of it and in a way it was starting to get better as he became more comfortable with his surroundings, but what was complicated was telling himself that he would never experience it again and convincing himself of this. As it was, he could not believe it. It was too much to ask of him.

"I hate this. Being so weak and scared," he clarified when the other slightly tilted his head in a silent question.

Master Feemor nodded gently before turning him so that he was facing him as closely as possible, his expression still gentle but there was something very serious in his eyes.

"Never forget what I'm about to tell you. We were all weak once. Weak, uncertain, helpless. We've all had moments of hesitation and we still do. Even the people you admire the most were once your age and had to face up to those thoughts that consume you. I know from experience that knowing that others have gone through it doesn't make it any easier, but you have to understand and forgive yourself. You're weak, and that's normal. You're confused and that's normal. You're scared, and that's normal. Do you understand?"

Obi-Wan uncomfortably looked down.

"Do you understand?"

He swallowed, trying to find the strength to open his mouth to admit shamefully:

"I don't think I do. I should be better."

The sigh seemed so loud it could have been a scream.

"What if it was one of your friends? Would you still feel the same way? Would they be weak if they couldn't get over the things you'd been through any faster?"

Just the thought of Bant, Garen or Quinlan ending up there made him want to cry, he wished they would never go through that.

"Why do you have expectations of yourself that you don't have of others?" Master Feemor asked when he nodded in the negative.

He did not know.

"Do you understand now?"

"No, I don't, I'm sorry."

He was pulled very carefully into a light embrace and he cracked when hands rubbed his back comfortingly. He burst into tears and sank into the embrace, clutching the startled man who exhaled but did not pull back, holding him tighter in return. He cried for a long time until he had nothing left to cry about.

He cried for all his fear and angst. He cried for the future he had dreamed of, which was crumbling. He cried for the person he used to be and felt he had lost.

He was not sure if he had ever cried so much, but somehow, when he had finished blowing his nose, Obi-Wan felt as if a weight had been lifted from his shoulders.

"You can take the bed if you don't want to go home."

Obi-Wan could never disturb him like that!

"I'd better get back, the doctors will be worried if I'm not here in the morning."

He had a room to himself but it was still the medical wing, so he was under regular supervision at least from the nurse droids to check he was fine.

"OK, I'll take you home."

"You don't have to-"

"I want to, it'll do me good to walk a bit. Let's go."

Master Feemor led him back to his door and bowed gently.

"Until tomorrow, Obi-Wan, sleep well."

"Thank you, see you tomorrow Master."

When he woke up the next morning, he felt better than he had in... a very long time.

Chapter Text

Jaster was at home, he consequently knew when someone was walking around at night, that was what the surveillance cameras were for, so he was not even awake in the morning when a message informed him of the Jedi kid's "suspicious" activities. He rolled his eyes as he read this. Yes, Obi-Wan was sneaky, but there was no need to exaggerate.

What did they think he was up to, getting up at night to visit one of his kind for barely half an hour in total? He understood that for them the Jedi were instinctively enemies before they were even people to be viewed neutrally, it was their history after all, but at this stage it was paranoia and it was ridiculous. They were still a child and a man, they were not a threat.

Having no trouble deducing what might have happened from Obi-Wan's condition on arriving and leaving, Jaster put aside the seven different reports that had accumulated and would continue to accumulate about Feemor and his actions since his arrival, preferring not to waste his time on that. He knew that his men were trying to do the right thing and meant no harm, but whatever they saw in him Jaster knew they were wrong about Feemor, he was not what they thought, so it would be pointless. And since telling them would be futile, the proof would come to the Mandalorians through action, not words, only Feemor's attitude would prove his worth to his people, that was how it was.

Jaster had been won over by the little things, the gentle manner, the deep kindness and great empathy he showed, but that was just him.

"Hello Obi-Wan. "

"... Good morning," the redhead finally replied, looking towards Feemor and Jango's place. "Where is Jango? "

Don't you mean, "Where is Feemor?", ad'ika? Jaster thought, amused.

"He's gone away for the day with Silas. Did you want to see him?"

"I wanted to say goodbye," the boy muttered, looking disheartened.

... wait, what? Had not Feemor offered him to stay longer? Damn, was Jaster supposed to, you know, as a host? What did he-

"Hello to both of you," a voice interrupted his thoughts. "Uh, has Jango finished already?"

"He left early and will be back late with Silas," he repeated for the Jedi, who sat down with an understanding smile.

"I see. They're right to have fun while they can."

"They're working."

"Of course they are."

Obi-Wan chuckled into his plate, looking very entertained by Jaster's misfortunes with his unpredictable son and it was only because literally everyone on this planet knew that his child was driving him mad that he did not say anything. That and the boyish, happy expression on the redhead's face, who for once seemed genuinely relaxed.

They started to eat, Jaster trying to talk a bit more about Jango as Obi-Wan was fascinated by the Mandalorian mercenary and bounty hunter job even though he tried to hide it, and breakfast went smoothly until one interruption.

He hoped it would not be long, as it came at the worst possible time, and he wanted to make the most of every moment, because who knew if he would ever see them again?

"Excuse me."

"No problem, Jaster, we'll be waiting to keep you company even if we finish before you get back."

"So I'm counting on your presence, Feemor."

He hurried off, discovered that an infiltration attempt by bounty hunters hired by a Hutt to kill him had been stopped and ordered the bounty hunter they had surprisingly taken alive to be locked up. He was a young Duros man not even twenty years old, competent but far too young for this kind of mission, Jaster would decide later what to do with him.

He slowed his approach when he heard the heavy silence in the dining room. Had something happened? He was not necessarily the best in awkward situations because he was not used to paying too much attention to people's emotions, interpreting them and acting accordingly to make things better. With adults that was fine, because they were generally quite socially competent, but when it came to traumatised children Jaster knew that his perception was not good enough.

"I..." the child finally began as he thought of joining them, "no, we shouldn't delay our journey because of something like this."

"No one would know and no one would need to know, you know? I didn't tell anyone I was bringing you back and I didn't give a return date. A few days more or less won't make any difference to them."

The redhead hesitated, even without seeing him it was obvious. As usual, he must have wanted not to be a bother and to be a good boy, and preferred not to accept what would nevertheless be very convenient for him. And Feemor was casting doubt on him.

"Would... Would you stay?"

"Of course I will, I won't leave you alone. I'm sure we'd find something to do here, from what I've heard they have incredible forges that are sometimes open to the public and culinary specialities that I know I've never eaten. In particular a kind of spicy stew that's famous, I'll have to check the names with Jaster."

Tiingilar, Jaster understood immediately, barely able to keep himself from saying it out loud and ruining everything. They had not realised he was there, which was why Obi-Wan spoke so freely. It was frustrating but that was the way it was, to be useful he had to stay out of the way.

"I... all right then, if you're sure nobody's being bothered..."

"I'm not at all bothered," the Jedi promised calmly, turning to him as he entered after a whole minute's delay so as not to arrive too early in the conversation. "Jaster, you're just in time, I know I said we'd leave today but I'd love to stay a few days longer, do you think that would be possible?"

Jaster smiled, delighted to have them a little longer and to have it confirmed. They made things livelier by being around. He felt comfortable with them, just like he did with Feemor back then.

It was funny how these things worked. How a stranger could be so much like you and understand you. How they could complete you.

"Of course, you are at home here, stay as long as you like."

And for once, it was not an empty polite phrase, he really meant it.

Chapter Text

It was definitely the right thing to do, Feemor thought as he watched Obi-Wan hide a laugh at Jaster recounting their first meeting. The similarities in the "wounded and confused Jedi projecting Mandos into walls with the Force before being invited to dinner" aspect were obvious enough to be noticed and appreciated. The prospect of staying here, away from scrutiny and judgement, was already doing wonders.

Jaster seemed delighted by the attention and spoke more and more, his accent becoming stronger and stronger as he became more passionate and conversational. It was something that was impressive to Feemor, this ability to soften his accent when he was concentrating on it. And quite adorable.

Jaster really was a father, you could tell from the way he beamed at Obi-Wan. He was right at home in the role. If he had not once been in his place like so many other Initiates with uncertain futures, he would almost think he had a chance with the adoption proposal.

The situation being what it was, however, Feemor knew that Obi-Wan would not want to be adopted by him. They were strangers, had radically different cultures in terms of spirituality and key values and in any case all hope was not yet lost for him. Feemor had a few friends or acquaintances who had not yet taken a Padawan, perhaps he could recommend him to one of them. And, if they did not want to choose this path, he could ask them to mobilise their own networks.

He hoped he could help, even a little.

"I think duty is calling for you," he said with an amused smile when he sensed several people approaching.

The conversation was in Mando'a and Feemor pretended not to see all the eyes on him.

"Sorry, I've got to go. Shall we meet tonight?"

"We'll be there."

Feemor put an arm around Jaster's shoulders as he left the table, coming close to whisper in his ear:

"Good job earlier, we needed to have this conversation face to face. I'll see you later."

The Jedi Master walked away with a wink for the Mandalorian who could have been sneaky but would have had to be a little more discreet and covered in a little more of his armour to hide from him. The Jedi could discern presences around them, but Jaster probably did not know enough of the Jedi to realise how strongly developed their perception was. He did not care though, as long as Obi-Wan did not notice and was not uncomfortable, he was fine.

It was lucky that Obi-Wan was so young, untrained and more generally preoccupied though, otherwise he would have been legitimately worried about Jaster eavesdropping and probably would have turned down the offer to stay. Jaster was a good man, genuinely, but he was also more socially awkward than he realised. Feemor did not dwell on it because he could see beneath the surface, but for someone a little less curious and open, it could spontaneously put him off.

In a way, it was important to Feemor that the boy got on well with his friend, even if he was not sure why.

"Let's go Obi-Wan, this is our chance to see more of the city."

"Yes!"

"Jetii."

Feemor checked that it was for him and motioned for Obi-Wan to go on without him, wondering what these three Mandos could possibly want from him.

"Is there anything I can help you with...?"

"Who are you to the Mand'alor?"

"I beg your pardon?"

"Did you say the riduurok?"

Feemor was confused. Mand'alor, he could understand because even back then Jaster's men called him Alor for leader, so his commandos still referred to him today as a Mandalorian Leader, which he clearly was. Riduurok, though? That one was unknown to him.

"Maybe you should ask Jaster?"

He did not think telling them he did not understand was a good idea in this context. Maybe the riduurok was an oath of friendship, protection or a mark of trust, in which case it would be better for him not to say that they did not say it. And in the opposite scenario, if it was something more negative, the same reasoning applied: if they did not know, they had no reason to take it out on him.

In fact, even if they translated the term for him, the cultural subtleties of the word would probably go over his head, so it would be better to ask someone he trusted... and that would be Jaster for him. How fortunate that this is also the case for them.

"I'll let you sort this out directly with him, if you'll excuse me, I'm awaited."

After a final nod, admittedly without waiting for their reply, he walked away and quickly rejoined his child, who was waiting for him at the nearest exit to the... well, sort of palace? Jaster had certainly made a good living since the last time he had seen him. Even the word rich would hardly begin to describe it.

"What did they want?" Obi-Wan asked, sounding curious.

"To be honest? I've no idea. I told them to go to Jaster if they had any questions for a Mandalorian. What, what did I say?"

Obi-Wan continued to laugh, shaking his head with a mischievous look in his eye.

"Nothing, Master, absolutely nothing. In any case, I'm delighted to see that they're warming up to you."

That was definitely not the... ah, that mocking kid was skilled. All the irony in the world hidden in a subtle twitch of his eyebrows. There was nothing in his neutral face or innocent tone to suggest he was being mocking.

He was skilled, and Feemor appreciated it.

"I'm sure they'll all love me by the time we leave," he nodded in agreement. "I don't doubt it for a second."

They wandered off together into the city, using euphemisms and metaphors to make fun of certain strange aspects of Mandalorian culture without the locals – and their very likely watchers – being able to understand or take offence.

Riduurok, he had to remember that word to check tonight. He was always curious about cultural things specific to a population, it seemed to be an important concept for whoever had mentioned it. Now he was somewhat intrigued.

He wondered what Jaster was going to say about it.

Chapter Text

Obi-Wan could not explain it, but something in him had calmed down since he had cried over Master Feemor and he felt almost alive again. Not everything was perfect, of course, hence the "almost", but he felt so much better... it was great. He was really being seen, heard and listened to by someone who had been non-judgemental and encouraging, protecting and supporting him every step. He did not realise how much he craved that kind of attention until he received it.

He thought he would be fine if he relied solely on his friends, but he now realised that an adult was always more comforting than a peer for certain problems, and this was one of them. Their lack of experience meant they sympathised and encouraged, Master Feemor reassured and protected.

Again, Obi-Wan had never imagined that he wanted protection until he blatantly and objectively needed it. He knew that any Jedi Master or Knight would protect him to the best of their ability, hell even a Padawan would, that was the Jedi way, but it was in the face of danger, in the face of a threat, in the face of peril.

The doubts, they told you to erase them, the fears, to overcome them, the anger, to abandon it... but it was difficult, so difficult, and nobody talked about it. They all kept it to themselves, they had to be perfect, and if they were all so perfect then Obi-Wan had to be perfect too if he was to have any chance of ever being one of them. But despite all his efforts, he-

"Is there anything in particular you want to do?"

Obi-Wan almost jumped and looked around. He knew nothing about the city either personally or by reputation and did not even understand the alphabet on the signs: he was completely lost.

"I admit I'm a bit lost."

" OK, but is there anything that specifically interests you? Museum, zoo, public gardens-"

"Gardens? I mean, only if you-"

But the blond man had already wandered off to talk to a shopkeeper in the street.

"Excuse me, hello, do you speak Basic?"

"Of course I do," she replied, looking unimpressed.

"Would you be able to tell us which public parks or gardens to visit?"

She remained silent for a moment, her attention elsewhere, before answering with perceptible reluctance.

"Further down the street, take the second staircase on your right. Once you're in the courtyard, there's another staircase on the left. The roof terrace is particularly beautifully landscaped."

"Thank you very much."

The place was small and quaint but indeed charming, with groups everywhere sitting on the floor or in alcoves around small tables, gambling and betting in a refreshingly warm and relaxed atmosphere.

They then went to visit a traditional blacksmith's forge – truly impressive – and were on their way to a covered craft market in front of the town hall, which could also be visited, when Master Feemor stopped dead in his tracks. He did not even react when Obi-Wan bumped into him.

He just stared at the crowd beyond him.

"What the...?"

"What's going on?"

"I thought I saw... but no, it's not possible."

"Master?"

The Jedi looked hesitant and tortured before seemingly making up his mind, grabbing him by the shoulders. It was a small gesture but it instantly tripled his stress. This was a bad sign.

"Obi-Wan, I need you to stay here."

A very bad sign.

"Why can't I come with you?"

He would feel safer with him.

Master Feemor looked guilty and sorry at the same time, but clearly did not change his mind.

"You're in no danger here, no one will hurt you and Jaster's men are following us, they'll protect you. I wouldn't leave you alone if I was worried about your safety, believe me, it's just that... if it's who I think it is, she won't talk in front of you."

Obi-Wan suddenly realised that he was behaving like a child. He had no right to stop him pursuing a suspicious person just out of irrational fear. He risked nothing as long as he remained visible to Jaster's guards.

He knew first-hand how competent they were.

"OK, I'll stick around, don't worry."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes, go ahead, I won't move."

"Thank you Obi-Wan."

The Jedi then darted through the crowd, chasing a figure invisible to his eyes. He was alone. Fine. First and last step: never go where no one would see him disappear. He would stay in the street.

It was in the middle of the food stalls, wondering whether he should buy some food without waiting for Master Feemor to return because he did not know when he would be back, that he spotted something surprising. An extremely familiar braid.

"Hello there?" He tried as he approached, curious.

He did not have the impression he knew him. When he got no answer, he held out his hand.

"Hey?" He tried again, thinking that perhaps he had not been noticed.

The Padawan, for he was indeed a Padawan, tensed when his hand touched his shoulder and backed away slowly but in a controlled movement, his hand moving in a way that made Obi-Wan suspect that even if he did not have a lightsaber at his waist, he must have hidden it on him and was ready to use it.

The boy, or rather teenager as he must have been around fifteen, looked at him with perceptible distrust.

"... Yes?"

"Is everything all right?" He finally asked, looking at him with the strange but lingering impression that he was suffering.

"I'm fine."

"Are you sure?"

"How does any of this concern you?"

"If you need help I'm with a Master, he can help you."

"A master? You have a master? I thought Mandalorians didn't practice slavery."

Obi-Wan shook his head, realising the mistake.

"A Jedi Master," he clarified. "I am an Initiate, Obi-Wan Kenobi. And the Mandalorians don't approve of slavery, they saved me from it a few weeks ago."

The boy pulled him further in, his hand gripping his arm almost uncomfortably.

"I'm Padawan Jon Antilles," he introduced himself in a whisper. "And you shouldn't talk about the Jedi so loudly in the middle of the street."

"Why shouldn't I? It's not a problem, they're not hostile, just a bit wary."

Even when they were unfriendly they spoke without being that aggressive, they all controlled themselves even when their feelings were very antagonistic.

"You think?"

"I'm sure, I live with one of them."

The blonde's eyes suddenly lit up with interest.

"Really? Who's that? You don't have any problems with anyone?"

"No, I swear, Master Feemor is even friends with him, he's very nice and his men are pretty normal."

Well, normal for weird Mandalorians.

"We live in that big building over there, if you're looking for us."

Padawan Antilles looked to where he was pointing and frowned, looking slightly hesitant.

"But that's... Your Mando must be important."

"I think so," Obi-Wan thought contemplatively, "after all, he has Commandos at his command. His name is Jaster Mereel."

Padawan turned to him with wide eyes, it was the most expressive he had seen him and Obi-Wan could not understand why he was so flabbergasted.

"Jaster Mereel? And he's… favorable?"

"You bet!" Obi-Wan chuckled. "He saved me and made sure a Jedi came to take me home, sure he's a bit weird but he's nice."

"That's... great, I'm glad it's going well for you," came the slightly uncertain whisper.

"It's going very well for us, and if you need anything you'll find an ally in him if you come on my behalf."

Amusingly, Obi-Wan relaxed and smiled at the figure who appeared beside them, casting the shadow of his body over them, while tension exploded in Padawan Antilles.

"Master Feemor!"

"We can go and eat now, Obi-Wan, my apologies for taking so long. As for you, Padawan, I am not unaware of your Master's methods."

The Padawan took a cautious step backwards, his right hand rising to rest on his left arm in an almost defensive gesture that made Obi-Wan confused. It was a strange reaction.

"I don't-"

"Her last Padawan Fell because of the extremity of her work, she may have told you about it. If you feel this is too much for you, do what you can to stop it happening. If she's not capable of questioning herself, then her reputation is overrated. Keep it up, Padawan, I hope we meet again."

"Bye," Obi-Wan waved awkwardly as he ran after him.

"Goodbye," the blond replied, his expression severe, before turning and walking away without waiting.

"Master, why-"

"All you need to know is that not all Masters are good to their Padawans. For this boy's sake, I hope she really has learned her lesson."

Obi-Wan slowed down, horrified at the thought of a child falling because of their own Master.

"How often does that happen?"

Master Feemor looked at him with a sad smile.

"The Jedi aren't gods, they're people, and anyone can make mistakes. Some of them are terrible. No one is safe."

"Do you..."

The man looked away.

"So...," he said in a clearly forced optimistic tone. "Are you hungry?"

It was a yes. It was a yes and Obi-Wan felt as if he suddenly understood better why he was speaking to him in a way that resonated so well with him. He understood, not just theoretically but from experience.

And because he related, he thought he knew the answer that was expected of him.

When he did not want to talk, Master Feemor respected his wish to remain silent.

"Yes, I'm starving."

The grateful look on his face confirmed that it was the right answer. And deep down, he understood better what he must have been thinking every time he did not insist when the roles were reversed: he did not need to know. Knowing that he supported him and that the other person appreciated it was enough.

He was happy if he could give back even a tenth of what he was doing for him.

He deserved it so much.

Chapter Text

Jaster looked at the two corpses of the suspect's comrades, the defused bomb device and the small poisonous scorpion in a sealed jar with reluctant admiration.

"The least we can say is that you don't do things by halves, kid."

It was not enough to compete with paranoid Mandalorians who searched Jaster's private quarters literally four times a day at irregular hours, but still, he was the most daring, competent and dedicated assassin he had seen since the days when Death Watch was still trying. Nowadays they still made the occasional attempt, to remind him they were there, but it was more symbolic than anything else. This Duros, on the other hand, was really something.

"What a pity you're not Mandalorian, I could have found a use for someone like you. I would have come to see you sooner too."

He had been busy with a conflict in the neighbouring Sector that was likely to escalate and perhaps require them to send ships to patrol and act as a deterrent and then spent four hours straight talking to Adonai about what was happening on Coruscant and the position his friend and Senator thought they should take. He did not like all these political discussions but he knew he was right to call him as soon as he saw an opportunity for them or thought they should change their discourse, he had to know how to read the room and above all they had to be in tune on these things, Jaster could not do it alone. It was part of Mand'alor's job and, above all, it was better than civil wars.

It was just a bit exhausting at times. He wanted positive results for himself and his people every time, but sometimes things did not go as well as planned... and while he waited for things to improve, the weight of responsibility fell on his shoulders. When you were the leader, every time there was a problem, it was your fault and Jaster did not like that aspect of being the one to decide.

This, interrogating an enemy in a prison, was unfortunately more familiar to him. He had experience. Feemor probably would not like to see that.

He and the boy would no doubt be disgusted and leave in a second.

The young Duros looked at him blankly and Jaster smiled under his helmet as Jango entered the room. They could move on to the next phase. If they played their cards right, they could use him.

"Hilarious buir, I didn't think your guy was Bane."

"Do you know this idiot?" He answered in Basic too, understanding that they would keep the Mando'a for the more confidential parts of what they had to say to each other to make the other frustrated at hearing them talk about him as if he was not there.

What he had said was still a surprise though, bounty hunters were a large community, he had not expected him to know such a young rookie.

"He's making a name for himself as a meticulous, professional worker, someone who honours his contract once he's signed up," his son explained, pushing the deactivated bomb with the toe of his boot. "This, however, is shoddy work. I've told the guys to search the whole palace, the bomb probably wasn't the real attempt but a distraction, there's got to be a plan B for if the scorpion fails."

The Duros gritted his teeth, he had surely been right. Yes, you just could not get one over on the best bounty hunter Mandalore had to offer.

"My boy, so competent," he complimented Jango affectionately in Mando'a.

The young man grinned.

"He has a weakness we can exploit," his son explained again in their mother tongue.

"What is that weakness? "

"He runs on money. He's ruthless, I respect that. It's not an honourable thing to say, but he'll get to the bottom of it," Jango replied before returning to Basic for their prisoner, who had only had eyes for him since he entered. "A solid and impressive plan for someone your age."

"Do you hope to compliment me until I speak?" Bane finally asked, looking disinterested in his situation. "Because if you are, I think you can start punching."

"Oh no, no need to waste any more time, I know how to speak the language of people like you. Do you know who ordered you to kill my father?"

"Wait, he's your father?"

"Yeah, he is."

"You don't have the same name."

"I'm adopted," the mercenary explained patiently, his smile getting bigger and bigger, and Jaster shook his head. "So, you know, your boss."

"What about them?"

"I took advantage of a little business trip to kill her. She's dead now, so... since you can say goodbye to your bounty, how about giving up?"

"I was just going to kill him after he'd answered my questions," Jaster said still in Basic, turning his helmeted face towards his son, confused. "You can't trust the words of a man without honour."

"He'll do what he has to do to survive, so yes, his words aren't worth anything, but he knows when a deal is good for him. Now that your previous contract is over, I want you to do a bit of investigating for me. The bounty will obviously be worth the challenge, but if you've accepted the contract on my father's head, I don't think that will scare you. You have the night to think about it."

Jango left and Jaster decided to follow him despite the surprising turn of the conversation, laughing softly.

"What was that all about?"

"You said you wanted to find out how Obi-Wan ended up in that mine, didn't you? This is the perfect opportunity, it's not our problem if he dies, he's not one of us."

Jaster approved of this pragmatism, after all he was not going to worry about the life of a man who had tried to kill him, and went with his son to eat. Obi-Wan and Feemor were already waiting for them and the duo winced in exactly the same way when he mentioned the Tiingilar they had talked about testing together.

"It was... quite an experience," Feemor replied, looking at the child with a wry smile.

"Very unforgettable."

Jaster glanced at Jango, who winked at him discreetly.

"Great, we'll eat that tomorrow night then. "

"Can we leave tomorrow afternoon?" Obi-Wan muttered to his adult, who tried not to choke on his food, looking falsely innocent in front of him.

They were so ridiculous but also so adorable... He still thought about it when Feemor sat on his sofa and played a strategy game with him, without showing any great talent in it, clearly preferring conversation to games.

Then the Jedi unconsciously decided it was time to get down to business.

"What is riduurok?"

... ridu-

"In what context exactly was that word uttered?" He asked, rubbing his eyes, praying with all his might that no one had married Feemor without him noticing.

Please, not that diplomatic accident again. Yes, again. Poor widower Adonai was now officially the second consort of the young Queen of Aldeeran.

The courtship and marriage rituals of other cultures were as diverse and infinite as they were strange and confusing. At least Feemor did not seem to have been hurt and coerced in the process if he had accidentally married and divorce was a possible thing in their culture, albeit frowned upon.

"Some of your Commandos asked me if we had said it to each other."

Of course, he nearly choked to death on his beer like an idiot because what the hell?

"I preferred not to answer because I didn't want to make a mistake," the Jedi continued without imagining the thousand things that were going through his mind. "What does it mean?"

"They... erm, they were asking you if we were married."

"... married?" The Jedi repeated, seeming almost to discover the word and remembering the concept with some mental effort. "The two of us?"

"Yeah."

"... I don't get it."

"I don't get it either."

Miraculously, the Jedi was amused and burst out laughing.

"They're so creative! I imagine they think of us as star-crossed lovers separated by a thousand years of cultural animosity forced to pose for friends."

"That's probably what they've got in mind, yes," Jaster had to admit, feeling disappointed.

How could his men be so clever yet so stupid? Did they all collectively decide to switch off their brains with Feemor? It certainly looked that way.

"Stop laughing."

"I'm not laughing, I swear, I'm not laughing."

He was definitely laughing. Jaster was laughing too. He just could not picture himself as a married man, so with him?

They had such wild ideas, really.

Chapter Text

Feemor had understandably lost at Jaster's various games, but he did not care. He was not that much of a competitive guy. This seemed to be a good thing, as Jaster appeared to be extremely competitive, judging by the few times the Jedi had given him a hard time. These flamboyant Mandos, rivalry and competition seemed to be part of their DNA.

If they had the time, or rather if Jaster could find time in his busy schedule, Feemor thought it would be interesting to face him in a friendly fight. He would put up a better fight... and he would show him exactly that he was not to be underestimated. Sometimes he felt that Jaster saw him as a somewhat fragile creature compared to his own kind, which was not a very pleasant feeling.

"I ran into a Jedi in town today," he said, testing the waters to see if Jaster already knew about it.

"Do you intend to open a holiday retreat for Jedi? I'm not sure my people would appreciate the idea."

Feemor looked up, amused to see him so relaxed. He was not going to stay relaxed for long. Master Kuro – and he refused to call her by her ridiculous nickname when he had known her as An'ya Kuro all his youth – had told him some interesting things.

"Don't worry, I'm sure no one would want to come here for a spiritual retreat. She told me the funniest thing, though. Jango's little incident almost turned into a major diplomatic incident... I must admit I'm surprised he was so ready to fight with a delegation of Jedi."

It got to the point where the woman, who did not really care about the other Jedi, decided to come and investigate Mandalore's supposed belligerent attitude towards her people. So it was far from the non-event it had been described as.

"To be honest, it seems that your Master Dooku wasn't very open to discussion either."

Dooku?!

Feemor took a deep breath. His Grand Master had almost fought with Jango. With all due respect to Jango, of course, if he had wanted him dead, Master Dooku would have killed him in the blink of an eye.

"She told me she was concerned about your people's intentions towards mine."

"I can promise you that it was an isolated incident. No one in the government wishes you harm. I speak from experience."

Feemor trusted him. After all, it was his people's government, and he was close to power. It was reassuring. He had suspected as much, but she was not a Master who worried easily, so he had felt slightly anxious despite everything.

"I will be sure to sing your praises, your hospitality and your kindness to my leaders' council," he promised effortlessly, eager to help Jaster improve their image and reputation.

It would not hurt.

"Thank you," Jaster said with a sigh. "Politics is already complicated within my culture, so in other languages and with other very different foreigners, it sometimes seems like mission impossible."

"I understand. We are trained to remain very neutral towards all cultures for this purpose, but I can imagine that it must have been complicated for you."

Especially as a mercenary, he must have had clients who tried to pull the wool over his eyes, so he could only be suspicious.

"Yes, Adonai is an absolute love for agreeing to take care of it for me."

Adonai? The name rang a bell, it was not a common name... ah, he did not remember.

"Your lover?"

That would explain why he laughed so much at his compatriots' ill-advised marital assumptions.

"Who, Adonai? No, we could never get married. I have great respect for him, but we would argue constantly about everything and nothing. If I ever get married, it will be to someone who helps me find peace, not endless debates."

Interesting. That was probably the best attitude to have towards a partnership like marriage, and Feemor agreed with that mindset. He would obviously never experience romantic love and a committed relationship with someone, but he knew that if he did aspire to it, that was exactly what he would want.

Someone with whom things would be so simple that they would be obvious.

"That Jedi woman, where is she now?"

"I don't know, either they've already left because I noticed them and mentioned being your friend, or they'll keep a low profile."

"... They? There are several of them?"

"She has a Padawan,"’ he immediately explained, figuring out where his thoughts were going. "A teenager a little older than Obi-Wan. I also ran into him in town, although, amusingly, it was Obi-Wan who spotted him."

The coincidence was quite amusing.

"I think it's good that children follow their mentors. I had the impression that most cultures didn't do that. At least they learn while being protected."

Feemor grimaced. If only.

"What, did I say something stupid?"

"Not particularly, no. It's the principle. Learning safely."

"But that's not really the case," Jaster added, understanding from his expression that it was not that simple.

"Not with her. She doesn't follow the Order's standards with her students. She already pushed one student too far, and the girl cracked."

"Do you think she's too harsh?"

Feemor did not know, he just hoped he was wrong.

"To be honest, the life of a Jedi is dangerous and Padawans can face danger at any moment, so maybe a mission or training went wrong and he was injured at that time. She's probably the only Jedi who thinks you have to train in pan to be able to withstand anything, and I don't like that, but that's just my opinion."

Jaster did not say anything at first, he actually probably approved of this unorthodox way of thinking for his people... and it was understandable. He was not a Jedi, he was a Mandalorian and had raised Jango exactly like that, and his boy was now considered one of the most competent Mandalorians, if not the most competent of his generation, but despite the massive cultural difference, he clearly perceived that in Feemor's words it seemed to be more than just a question of training.

"Do you think she's abusing him? That she deliberately hurt him?"

Feemor shook his head, hoping Jaster would believe him, because that was really not his concern with the boy.

"No, not at all. She is known for her extreme and gruelling training methods, but that doesn't mean she's cruel. She didn't accuse her former student of being weak when everything fell apart, she didn't blame her, she admitted her mistakes and feels guilty about her own failure with her. I sincerely believe she wants to do better, I just hope for both of them that she succeeds. We Jedi... we experience things differently from most people. The Force is a constant presence that guides us and speaks to us, it advises us, but it can also sometimes mislead us and lead us astray. That's one of the reasons why we must keep our emotions firmly under control and never react to them, so that we don't make decisions that we're sure to regret later."

The Mandalorian looked at him thoughtfully.

"I can't really say I understand how that feels, but it seems like a complicated life."

"It can be at times."

"And lonely," Jaster added very delicately.

It was surprisingly painful. It had hit him right where it hurt. It was lonely.

"Please don't pity me," he reassured him, forcing himself to suppress certain feelings that belonged to the past. "I wouldn't want another life."

It was a life of unending sacrifices, a life of effort and hardship, but it was a fulfilling life. He would not want another one. If he were no longer a Jedi, he would have no reason to live.

Chapter Text

Obi-Wan was confused when Silas, who usually seemed to be the guy Jaster's people sent to talk to him if they wanted to pass on a message, knocked on his door just after lunch.

"You have a visitor."

When Obi-Wan looked at him blankly, staring down the empty hallway, he motioned for him to follow him.

"We don't just let anyone in because they say they want to come in."

"If you say so."

Master Feemor certainly seemed to have taken Jaster at his word and came and went as he pleased with the confidence of someone who could not imagine being stopped, and no one really knew him here, so...

"What?"

"Nothing!"

Silas nudged him gently, shaking his head as the older Padawans sometimes did with them when they came to help with their lessons, and nodded towards the entrance.

"I'll stay here just in case."

"It's okay, it won't be necessary," the redhead replied without hesitation, seeing a familiar braid sticking out from under the hood of the short coat of the figure waiting just far enough away not to make the guards too nervous. "I know him. Can he come in?"

"Well..."

"Master Feemor said he could come," he insisted when he sensed from Silas' tone that he was hesitating.

"If he said yes, I suppose he can."

The Mandalorian muttered something under his breath in his own language and probably haggled a little with his comrades, but finally they motioned for Padawan Antilles to pass, and the blond boy finally joined him with long strides.

"I didn't expect to see you again," Obi-Wan admitted, curious.

"My Master asked me to come here while she finishes something," the Padawan explained defensively.

He looked frustrated at being left out.

Yeah, I feel you so much on this one.

"No problem, you can stay with me, or if you want, we can go see Master Feemor."

"No need to bother him," came the hasty reply.

So it was not just an impression: he did not want Master Feemor around.

"What do you want to do then? I don't think we'll have too much trouble wandering around, or else we can just go to my room."

"Your room, if you don't mind."

Obi-Wan wondered if it was to escape scrutiny. He seemed uncomfortable being looked at, uneasy and defensive. Did he have a problem with strangers?

Or perhaps... adults?

With Master Feemor's disturbing words in mind, Obi-Wan took them back to his room, thinking about how to help him if he did not want help.

"Do you live in the infirmary?"

He looked around again and realised that it could indeed be worrying.

"The doctors prefer to have me around in case I need treatment."

"Why would you need medical attention?"

Obi-Wan inhaled calmly and exhaled just as calmly. Let's stay calm. He could not have known that his question had such a delicate answer.

"I wasn't exactly in the best shape when they rescued me."

He sat down on his bed and watched the other man slowly sit down on a stool, which he pulled closer to him so as not to look like a complete savage.

"Rescued?"

"From the mines. I told you they saved me from slavery."

Antilles blushed deeply and looked away, looking uncomfortable even though his face remained largely expressionless.

"I'm deeply sorry, I didn't remember."

"It's okay. And at least it means it's not really noticeable anymore, which is cool."

"You can tell," the other whispered. "When you know what to look for, you can tell. You're skinny."

"You really have a way with words of comfort, don't you?" He replied sarcastically, rolling his eyes. "Don't worry, I know very well what I look like."

He had lost almost ten kilos in a month. If he had eaten more, it might not have been so bad, but there were other children there, and he had tried to give them as much as he could.

"But enough about me, do you need to see someone? For your arm," he specified, incredibly proud of himself when the Padawan straightened up defensively.

He was right, he was injured.

"It won't be necessary."

"Are you sure?"

"I am."

"Okay," he pretended to accept, only to come back at him again. "What happened to you?"

"... A stupid injury."

"What kind of injury?"

"The kind where a criminal stabs you with a knife so dirty you wish it had been poisoned considering how severe the infection was after that."

Obi-Wan looked at him with wide eyes, already leaning forward to get up and drag him to the infirmary just in case.

"How-

"I was careless," Antilles sighed defeatedly.

That wasn't his question.

"Are you sure you're okay?"

"I am, she even came and got me quickly this time."

"Doesn't she usually come?"

"Of course she comes, what an idea. I don't know what your Master has put in your head, but my Master is a good Jedi Master."

Obi-Wan did not respond to the fact that Master Feemor was not his Master and frowned. Should he insist, just to be sure? He was worried about him, he seemed... on edge.

He wondered if he looked the same to him.

"He said that some Masters weren't always good to their Padawans."

"He's wrong," the teenager insisted firmly. "She's a good person, she saved my life, she's like a mother to me."

When Obi-Wan raised a curious eyebrow and leaned forward with eyes that begged to know more, the boy turned away for a moment before breaking down.

"It's nothing interesting."

"You said she was like your mother."

Antilles shrugged, playing with his sleeves, looking down.

"I have never lived in the Temple on Coruscant, I've never even been there."

Obi-Wan barely managed to stop himself from interrupting. How was that possible? All Initiates lived in the Crèche before becoming Padawans when they were old enough.

"She found me on the streets, I was... I don't remember everything, I asked her to erase my memory because it was too hard for me to let go of my negative emotions about it, but..."

"She erased your memory?!"

"No, it was Master Fay. My Master isn't skilled enough to erase specific things so precisely... but it doesn't matter. It's what I wanted, and really, given how little I remember, I don't regret it. You mentioned mines, didn't you? You wouldn't want to forget that?"

... he had wanted it, that was true. He had wished for it, hoping that the Force would make him forget everything when he woke up. Looking back, he did not think that forgetting the fear, hunger, fatigue and pain would be so bad. And that was without mentioning all the emotions he could not process in relation to what he had witnessed. Guards dragging a woman by her hair until she disappeared... she never came back. A man whipped until he passed out for doing nothing more than trying to steal water. A child struck in the face for stumbling just a little too close to a guard. He had so many stories he could go on for an hour.

And their "pets"... Force, those horrible-

"Hey, are you okay?"

"Yeah," he said, not hearing a word he was saying, so he really hoped his mouth would follow his brain on this one. "Sorry, I'm listening, you can continue."

"Like your weird Mandalorians saved you, she saved me," Antilles continued in a softer tone. "She told me I had the potential to be like her, if I was willing to work hard. She saved the city from pirates who were terrorising us all on her own, of course I wanted to be like her."

It was... surprisingly logical, yes.

"My... family, if you can even call it that, was terrible, the kind that would deserve your Master's attention. She took me with her when I asked her to, she could have left me there, but she did not. I'm very grateful to her. I know someone like you can't understand because her training is hard, but she protects me and guides me, and I have a lot of catching up to do."

"How old were you?"

"Five or six, I think. It was complicated at first because she couldn't take me to the field, and now even when she does take me, I find a way to mess everything up."

"Is that what she told you?"

Antilles looked at him with wide eyes, like a shocked and speechless owl.

"No, but it's obvious."

"Why?"

"Because I wasn't up to the task."

"What did she say about that?"

"She didn't say anything, she just rescued me and took care of me, that's all."

"So how do you know she's disappointed?"

"I am disappointed, she has to be."

Obi-Wan pretended to understand and agree, but inside he looked at him as if he were the Obi-Wan Kenobi of his Feemor.

Traumatised and wounded child? Check.

Had trouble accepting attention and care from others and, above all, feeling worthy of it? Check.

Felt like he had to be perfect to be loved? Check.

It was a particularly strange feeling. Kind of like looking at himself in a distorting mirror. The reflection, however, was still as painful as ever.

Chapter Text

Jaster looked at the boy, who was slightly taller than Obi-Wan and trying to stay in the redhead's shadow.

"How many kids are you planning to adopt?" He finally asked Feemor, who did not seem at all fazed by the addition.

"I'm not up for adoption."

"You heard him."

"Who are you, ad'ika?"

"... Padawan Jon Antilles, Mand'alor Mereel," came the reply, accompanied by a deep, respectful bow.

The pronunciation was surprisingly correct, this kid had a good ear.

"No need to bow," he replied softly. "You are welcome."

"Thank you for your welcome."

It was so stiff and formal... but, now that he thought about it, Obi-Wan had been the same until Feemor arrived, and Feemor had been the same back then before he trusted him. He suspected that the Jedi hid their emotions behind an impassive mask and only revealed their true personalities to those they trusted, just as a Mando would only remove his helmet with friends. All he had to do now was create that safe environment so that he too could feel comfortable being himself.

"How long are you staying?" He asked politely. "I'll have a room prepared for you."

"I... I don't know."

He did not know?

Jaster turned to Feemor, who gave him a look that – he assumed – meant I'll explain later. Fine then.

"You can stay here until you no longer need to, or accompany those two to Coruscant when they leave, if you prefer that," he decided so that he would not feel trapped. "Do you need any medical attention?"

The teenager rolled his eyes.

"Enough with that, my wounds have already been treated and are healing well. But thank you," he added in a much less petulant tone when Feemor cleared his throat.

"Are you eating with us?" Obi-Wan asked in surprise as he saw him heading for the dining room.

"Hey, even chefs are entitled to a day off now and then! Add another place for him," he added to an awaiting droid.

Jango arrived just behind the boys, with Jon looking at him suspiciously as he handed him his com.

"Don't worry Obi-Wan, we'll keep him busy."

Jaster raised an eyebrow and his son pointed to his com.

"You forgot it, and guess what? Kryze wants to talk to you."

"Again?"

"Yeah, again. Apparently he's going to be part of a committee that's meeting tomorrow at the Chancellor's request."

"For what reason?"

"Space defence against the Hutts. There'll even be a Jedi," Jango added with a smile to their three silent and well-behaved guests. "What's his name again... Yes, Qui-Gon Jinn. Do you know him?"

Oh, what a mistake to make. Jaster looked at Feemor and Obi-Wan with wide eyes, hoping they would not react badly to the mention of the man who provoked rather defeatist reactions in them.

"Master Jinn is one of the Order's most experienced diplomat, mediator and negotiator," Feemor replied without hesitation, his voice firm and his gaze steady. "He is also impartial and knows the issues of the Outer Rim better than most. Incidentally, he is also a close friend of the Chancellor."

"Great, it's always good to have allies among the Jedi," Jango said innocently, this sweet summer child.

"You are aware, of course, that he was Master Dooku's student and that they are still very close, aren't you?" Feemor asked in a falsely thoughtful tone, smiling quietly and raising his glass to Jango, who was choking, not on his drink or food, but on his own saliva. " Don't worry, I'll make sure to drop a few words in your favour."

So he knew him that well? He was not just an acquaintance, but a close friend? What-

"Actually, I should probably start by calling Master Dooku to sort out this... what do you call it again... oh, yes, a misunderstanding."

"What, did they almost killed each other?" Jon asked cynically, flinching when Jango suddenly turned towards him.

"It was a fucking accident!"

"Wait... you are Jango Fett?!"

"Oh fuck, I've got a reputation even among Jedi babies, I'm so screwed."

"I'm not a baby!"

"Come on, you're just being dramatic. The Jedi are champions of forgiveness. I'm sure Master Jinn won't think anything of it."

"What about the other guy?"

"Who?"

"The uncompromising old man."

All the Jedi at the table seemed greatly offended by this description, but Feemor quickly went from offence to suppressing a smile, so Jaster assumed it was okay.

"He never forgets and barely ever forgives. I hope for your sake you won't run into him ever again."

Jango continued to complain, and one complaint led to another. He quickly criticised things that the children did not accept being called into question, and the topics of conversation followed one another, allowing Jaster to relax as well.

"Is it true that the vode think we are... together?" He asked in Mando'a in a brief silence, narrowly avoiding saying the word riduur so as not to draw the attention of Feemor, who now knew the word.

"You didn't know?" Jango asked, looking surprised. "I thought you started the rumour to get everyone used to the idea before revealing everything."

"What? You're my son, do you really think I would do something like that without telling you?"

"Well, I've been in a situationship with Dex for three months and I haven't told you about it, have I?" His son replied with a shrug. "I'm old enough to accept that you have your own life."

"Son, I'm not in a relationship with him. For real."

His son looked at him first, rolling his eyes as if he was being unnecessarily stubborn, before looking more closely and, whatever he saw in his expression, he seemed to believe him.

"I believe you, but that doesn't mean there's nothing there. I understand the others."

"Jan'ika..."

"You look at him differently than the others, buir," the young man interrupted, shaking his head, "differently than anyone else before. You may not realise it, but we do."

Jaster frowned, looking at his plate as if it was responsible for all this mess, then at Feemor, who was watching him intently, looking slightly worried. He shook his head, hoping the other would understand that he did not want to talk about it, and the Jedi smiled encouragingly.

"We'll take our leave. I was planning to take the boys out for some training."

The two children sat up straight, suddenly looking very attentive, and Jaster smiled slightly. Was it true, or had he just made it up to justify leaving and leaving them alone? In any case, it was no coincidence that he was slipping away at that precise moment, he had understood his discomfort and decided to give him some space.

"Have fun."

As he walked away, his two ducklings behind him, Jaster once again felt that warmth in his chest when he saw him turn slightly to smile at him, calmly striking up a conversation with his two wild kids.

"You're all confusing a friendship that seems obvious with something more," he finally explained to his son. "Two people who are close don't necessarily aspire to be a couple. It's true that we get along very well and understand each other more easily than one might imagine for people who are so different, but that's all."

"But are you sure that's all?"

Jaster did not get angry as he knew it was not said maliciously, but he frowned anyway.

"Yes, I'm sure," he said curtly, refusing to think about why he felt strangely torn.

It did not make any sense.

He was not in love.

Chapter Text

Feemor made sure to keep an eye on the Padawan. Not maliciously, of course, but cautiously nonetheless. He resembled Obi-Wan if he were older and slightly wilder.

Which meant: even more intense, sneaky, and sassy.

Force, how did people put up with hormonal teenagers enough to decide to have more than one Padawan in their lives? One look at the duo and he suddenly remembered why, seeing them interact, his heart decided to melt just at the sight of them. They were so naive, shinning, and full of life, how could you not love them?

Padawan Antilles noticed his gaze and narrowed his eyes. What, was that a message saying, "I see you looking"? A threat?

Adorable.

Funny how some people could so easily misunderstand, much like Jaster's men... Force, Jaster's men. Feemor did not think he had laughed so hard in years and he definitely needed that laugh. They thought they were secret husbands!

He did not think he had heard anything so surprising since he had left the age when teenage Padawans could be a little – a lot – rebellious and sought out forbidden things to talk about later. He did not even understand their logic. On what basis did they all collectively decide that yes, the best way to describe their friendship was "secretly married"? It was completely crazy.

That said, now that he thought about it, he had not realized it, but perhaps they had always treated him as if he were more than just a friend to Jaster. From day one, they did not like him, but they respected him and treated him well. Better than he expected when he had compared it to how they had welcomed him when they first met.

Even now, when he was doing nothing more than walking and asking for directions to a dojo, all eyes were on him, and when he concentrated, Feemor could feel their curiosity burning in the Force. The Jedi felt his cheeks burn with silent embarrassment, which he barely managed to control so that his body would not reveal anything. If they thought that, it meant that all the times they had spent alone together since his arrival, they thought they were...

Oh Force, it was terrible. A little amusing, of course, because the misunderstanding was not one he frequently heard, but... well, he was not used to people making assumptions about his private life, and these assumptions in particular made him uncomfortable.

Who would have thought that talking about romance and sex about a monk who was inexperienced in both would put said virgin and disinterested monk in a state of profound embarrassment. Totally unexpected, of course.

"Master Feemor?"

The Jedi struggled to free himself from the intrusive thoughts that tormented him and realized that he had naturally stopped once he reached his destination. It was time to regain control of the situation. A Jedi Master did not let his problems overwhelm him; he overcame them, so he would overcome this.

"How old are you, Padawan?" He asked the blond boy who, on reflection, resembled him physically enough to have been his biological son if he had decided to have a child when he himself was around twelve.

"About fifteen."

"Hmm. And you're thirteen, Obi-Wan, is that right?"

"Yes, Master."

"Hmm... Show me what you can do."

The two looked at each other before turning back to him, confused. Adorable, really. And they were already getting along so well despite Antilles' wounded wildcat attitude, Feemor was delighted with this unexpected outcome.

Sensing a third Jedi so close that morning, he had thought it was the Master who had infiltrated, and he found this surprise particularly pleasant. Master Kuro was so stern that even though it was not that difficult to talk to her, it just was not enjoyable.

"How?"

Feemor detached his lightsaber from his belt and handed it to Obi-Wan, who took it and looked at it with wide eyes.

"What do you think? You are Jedi, not soldiers. I'm not offering to train you in sniper shooting or grenade throwing. "

"But you could do it?" Obi-Wan asked, looking very interested, this child of chaos.

"I could if I chose to change careers, but that day has not yet come. I am well aware that with the minor injuries you still have, Padawan Antilles, the fight is not balanced, but Obi-Wan being younger and less trained, I think that roughly evens things out. You are forbidden to use the Force for anything other than enhancing your own physical abilities and instincts."

"When do we start?" Antilles asked, looking very impatient.

"Now-"

Without waiting another second, surprising and amusing Feemor in equal measure, the Padawan attacked . Oh, this one must be a hyperactive kid in need of action. Obi-Wan narrowly blocked the first blow, pleasantly surprising Feemor, but not the second, which was clearly too fast for him, and he fell to the ground, knocked down by the brute force his opponent had put into his blow.

Immediately losing his challenging attitude, the Padawan approached to offer his hand.

"Sorry, I thought you saw it coming," Antilles muttered, holding out his hand.

"I did see it," Obi-Wan replied sullenly. "I just didn't have time to block it, that's all. "

They tried again and again, and Feemor realized he would have to come up with something else: their levels were too unbalanced for them to learn anything. That, and... Obi-Wan hesitated too much. About everything. All the time.

The poor kid was trying so hard, seemingly unconsciously, to please the people around him that he never thought first about what was best for himself.

It was time to teach him a lesson that might one day save his life... and the Padawan would be the perfect teacher for that. It could only benefit him later on. He wanted him to be happy and fulfilled, even if it was not with him.

He was so eager to have his own Padawan, he could not wait for the Force to put them in his path.

Chapter Text

"Not bad, you're doing well. Obi-Wan, go on the offensive only, and you, Padawan, defensive only."

The redhead obeyed, and his opponent managed to switch roles with ease, letting Obi-Wan come to him only to block or push him away. Once again, Feemor saw it. He hesitated.

When Antilles was even slightly overwhelmed or grimaced from a painful move, Obi-Wan would back off. It was minimal, but it was there.

It was a problem. A young man full of doubts would cause others to doubt him. He absolutely had to work on this before bringing him back to Coruscant, where it would be really complicated for him.

Especially since he really had potential! Sure, his movements lacked refinement and precision, but he was alert, and Feemor could already see that he was not just striking at random or where he saw an opportunity: he was planning his moves to create those opportunities. That was an excellent mindset to have at that age.

"How skilled are you in manipulating the Force?" He asked after a pause, for once in favour of the younger Jedi.

"What do you mean by that?"

"Force Pushes, you know? Have you ever done one?"

He already knew they had, but he wanted to get them in the mood.

"Yes."

"Sometimes."

"Wonderful. Do it on me."

"Me?" Obi-Wan stammered, looking at him with wide eyes. "Why?"

"Just do it."

When he made no move to do so, Feemor turned to Antilles.

"Your turn. Do it."

He had barely finished his sentence when a telekinetic explosion swept him away and threw him against a wall. Damn. He had the opposite problem: he was a little bit too fast.

If he had not been ready, he could have broken a few ribs. As it was, Feemor softened the impact by creating a kind of Force cushion between himself and the wall just before impact and slid to the floor, getting up without any damage.

A movement caught his attention and he raised his hand. He should have thought of that. His gesture narrowly stopped the Mandalorians around him who were moving as if to intercept Antilles, perceived as a threat. The boys understood his gaze and calmed down, but Feemor realised that he might have been a little too quick with his plans.

Obi-Wan had cowered at the violent and potentially dangerous display, and Antilles had stepped between them when he raised his hand. They were both very attentive to their surroundings and were ready, each in their own way, to act to protect themselves. It was time to try to reduce the damage.

"Excellent, Padawan, though a little abrupt for a training demonstration."

"I'm sorry, Master," he replied in a perfectly neutral, detached voice, his face unreadable but his body betraying his tension.

"No apology is necessary," he replied, trying hard to sound indifferent. "I should have been more precise."

Once he reached them, he looked at the few curious Mandalorians who had approached until they slowly backed away. Good. He did not want them to heighten their anxiety.

"Now, Obi-Wan, why don't you give it a try?"

"I'm not sure that's a good idea."

"If I survived him, I think I can survive you," he said lightly, teasing the Padawan at their side, who crossed his arms defensively and pouted.

He noticed his discomfort but decided to press the issue a little more. He wanted to understand. To help him.

"This isn't about putting you in danger, Obi-Wan, just training you to master skills that can make a difference in keeping you safe."

"I know how to do it," he muttered, staring at the ground as if it were the most interesting thing in the world. "I've done it before."

"Then why not do it again now?"

A mumble was his reply, attracting the attention of Antilles, who leaned in as if to hear better.

"What is it?"

"I don't want to hurt you. Every time I've done it, I've felt threatened."

"Would you be able to use it immediately if you were threatened?"

"Yes."

"So you control it."

Obi-Wan nodded.

"Then you won't hurt me. It's important to be able to demonstrate a skill in a safe environment and with peers. It will reassure many people about your control."

If he could not prove this self-control, it would be very difficult for him to become a Padawan, and Feemor did not want to lie to the people he was going to recommend him to. He could not say he could do things if he could not, nor could he say he was in a sufficiently stable mental state if he was not. His goal was to try to match him with people who knew the facts and were able to do something with him that would be beneficial.

This meant being honest about the teenager's mental state and abilities.

Obi-Wan nodded but did nothing, looking even more miserable. Feemor was not disappointed, but he could admit to being concerned. And perhaps he was in fact the obstacle.

He turned to the third man in the conversation, hopeful.

Could you help him?

The blond boy seemed to understand that an intervention was looked-for and grabbed Obi-Wan by the biceps to pull him away.

"Sometimes there's no time for hesitation, you just have to act. Come on."

"But I-"

He was dragged further away despite his objections, and Feemor let the Padawan drag him far enough away so he could not hear them anymore, watching with an amused smile as the blond man used his abrupt, demanding, and almost tyrannical teaching method, clearly not willing to give up until he had coaxed a Force Push out of the redhead. The two whispered excitedly, and Feemor shook his head as he watched them jostle each other slightly without touching, careful not to let them fall, sometimes using the Force himself to stabilize them. The Jedi Master also made sure that no one disturbed them, enjoying the moment of light-heartedness that was settling in.

When Feemor fell backward, taken by surprise by their actions, and sprawled on the ground, a surprised and amused laugh broke out of him.

Those brats.

Chapter Text

Obi-Wan loved training with Master Feemor! It was very different from their Clan training. He liked having someone's complete attention and receiving their advice. Here, he was not competing with anyone, he was just learning, and he loved it. It had been a long time since he had learned things or practiced for the sheer pleasure of it.

Everything was poisoned by the stress of progressing to be deemed worthy of being a Padawan, which he admitted hesitantly when the Jedi Master pointed out that he seemed particularly happy to be practicing.

"I think I was like that too," the blond admitted, "though maybe not as much, because I was chosen before I was thirteen. It's a lot of stress, it's a kind of implicit competition even if the Masters prefer not to talk about it that way... and the selection criteria are vague."

"If only," Obi-Wan muttered, disappointed.

"What do you mean?" The adult asked, casting a critical glance at Antilles, who had finally agreed to be examined by a doctor but was now stubbornly refusing to let them touch him.

The Padawan finally gave in, but with a discreet pout that made them smile knowingly as soon as he was not looking.

"So…?"

"Let's just say that it was made clear to me that a certain type of behavior was required in order to be considered interesting."

"What are the criteria, then?"

"Being calm, hard-working and obedient."

"That's all you naturally are," Master Feemor said with such sincere confusion that Obi-Wan looked at him in surprise. "Why weren't you chosen? Do you have any idea? Because from my point of view, you have everything it takes to be a Padawan."

"Unfortunately, not everyone thinks so, quite the contrary. I have... a reputation."

"What kind of reputation?"

"I did some stupid things, I wasn't the best-behaved child."

"Serious things?"

"No! No, absolutely not, I promise..."

"I believe you, Obi-Wan, calm down."

"I know, it was really just stupid things, but because of that, now I have a reputation.

"That can't be-"

"One of my best friends was chosen to be a Padawan shortly before me. She had better grades, but not by much. She also wanted to be trained by a Healer, which narrowed down the number of candidates. Reputation is everything, especially when the Force doesn't directly create a bond between us and a Master."

"Ahhh... if I may offer a little perspective, although I can't justify listening to rumors about children and then not judging those children fairly, it's not exactly easy for the Knights and Masters either. Since they are the ones who make the proposals, it's up to them to take responsibility for their choices and stick to them. It's... such a responsibility. Taking a child in for a decade, deciding that you will be responsible for their actions and words on missions, for their safety and health, for their spiritual development and skills... and if the Master isn't ready for the student or chooses poorly, they risk a lot. My former Master refused to see the darkness growing in his Padawan until he tried to kill him. I... sometimes it's a blessing in disguise not to be chosen by certain people, I assure you."

Obi-Wan had never thought of it that way, and he appreciated the perspective, let's be clear about that... but he also felt that these words were more personal and emotional than usual. He was talking about his complicated experience and the doubts he was experiencing. He had seen someone fail, someone who at one time might have resembled Obi-Wan, but who had lost control due to bad advice from an unsuitable Master.

He was worried about him. Obi-Wan was used to people disapproving of him not being chosen and worrying that no one wanted him, not that someone was worried that the wrong people were interested.

"… Doesn't anyone do anything in these cases?"

"Some try to offer advice and guidance, but the Master is generally left in charge as long as no real failure is observed. In all circumstances, a Padawan is responsible for their own choices, and no temporary failure on the part of a mentor would justify some kind of actions."

Such as attempting to murder your own Master.

"Your Padawan brother, where is he these days?"

"Who knows? Hopefully, I'd say very far away."

The man's com vibrated and he walked away to take the call, his expression changing completely as soon as he picked it up. The Master frowned, apparently speaking rapidly into his com, looking tense. Obi-Wan watched him, growing increasingly concerned as he turned away when he saw them watching him.

"What's wrong with him?" Antilles asked tactlessly, sitting down next to him, never the last one to be curious. "Bad news?"

"Shh!"

"What, it's not like he's going to hear us while he's talking... unless you're trying to eavesdrop?"

Obi-Wan sighed deeply: he indeed had tried to eavesdrop, but with such an unsubtle guy beside him, it was pointless.

When the Master returned, Obi-Wan expected something, but he just acted as if nothing had happened, which paradoxically made the redhead even more suspicious. If he did not speak immediately, then it must be particularly sensitive. He was starting to get to know him.

"So, what did the doctors say?" Master Feemor asked Antilles.

"The... They were annoyed that they didn't really understand how the Force could heal without medicine or medical equipment, but they said that whatever my Master did, it was effective. No infection, and the wound is clean and healing well."

"That's excellent news. I'm happy for you."

"I had no doubt about that. You were the one who were worried."

"Well, yes, I was worried, sue me. Let's go find our Mandos to eat if you are as hungry as I am."

On the way to the dining room where they usually met the father and son, Master Feemor slowed him down by placing a hand on his shoulder, and the three of them tacitly agreed to let Antilles distance himself until he was no longer in their immediate vicinity.

Whatever the news was, it would be important.

"Change of plans. I'm sorry to have to rush everything, but we'll leave as soon as Jaster can get us a seat on the next flight. An... event is forcing me to return to Coruscant quickly."

It was as if the ground was crumbling beneath his feet, but Obi-Wan obediently nodded and hid his feelings. The last few days had been like paradise. Jaster, Jango, Silas, Antilles, and especially Master Feemor...

He would have liked to stay here with them forever.

Chapter Text

Jaster could feel the tension in the air as soon as the three Jedi entered. The little blond apprentice seemed pretty normal, but Feemor was tense and Obi-Wan was completely closed off, even though he smiled sincerely when he saw him.

What had happened? Jaster had received more than thirty videos of "Jedi training" from his men, and everything seemed to be going well. The children were playing, learning, and practicing, and Feemor was guiding them with patience and expertise.

He would have known if something had happened.

"You know, I told you I had some unresolved issues," Feemor began unexpectedly once they were seated.

"You did."

"Those problems have resurfaced on Coruscant. I have to go back quickly. Can you help me?"

Already? Jaster thought he still had a few days left. Despite this, he gave the only answer he could give.

"You'll have a place on the next ship leaving."

"Thank you."

"Are you all leaving?"

"Obi-Wan is coming back with me."

"What about you, kid?"

"My Master will come to get me."

The famous Master he had yet to meet.

"It will be done."

And Jango, who was not there tonight, too busy going out to dinner with his boyfriend. Unofficial boyfriend. Except that he was clearly the only candidate for the job.

Manda, Jaster was going to have his hands full with his son, he had not even spoken to the suitor yet! The Besalisk had better be a gentleman and treat his son like a prince. Given that he had Mandalorian standards, it should not be too complicated, but still!

Before the end of the meal, Jaster's army of assistants had booked two seats on a flight leaving the next morning just before lunch, and Jaster felt a little empty.

It had happened too quickly.

The meal was a quick and silent affair, and the boys left together under the hesitant gaze of their Jedi guardian.

"Do you want to come with me for one last night? I can show you a bunch of secret places you'd probably never see otherwise," he tried to make him curious so he would agree, not wanting it to end like this.

"I... I'll just check that the boys are okay and then I'll meet you at your place, if that's okay with you?"

Jaster nodded, patient and calm. The poor man looked exhausted and so stressed. A little distraction would do him good. Twenty minutes later, Feemor knocked on his door, the boys already in bed.

"Sorry about earlier, I wasn't very talkative."

Jaster shrugged, unfazed by this. Once, Jango had sulked and refused to speak to him for two weeks when Jaster forbade him from using literal cannons. Fortunately, he quickly came back to his senses when Jaster was injured and he thought he was going to lose him.

Even without that, however, they could both be quite discreet.

"So, where are you taking me to?"

Jaster, who was putting on a jetpack, smiled.

"Follow me and you'll find out."

He took him to several gardens, a covered market, an underground shopping street, and even ancient catacombs that had been converted into an escape game training maze that Jaster had never been to before. They walked, bought trinkets, and had drinks, leaving through a condemned exit, covered in dust but euphoric.

Finally, because it was already past midnight, Jaster took them back, but he did not want this moment to end, so he used his jetpack to ascend, admiring the impressive jumps of the wizard who followed him closely until he landed.

His spot was a ledge on the roof of the building. From there, they overlooked the city but remained hidden while being right next to the family... the perfect place. Feemor joined him and sat down next to him, legs dangling down, and they watched the view and the starry night in comfortable silence.

It was so difficult to be comfortable with someone in silence, yet with him, Jaster felt at ease.

"Have you ever had people you loved very much but who disappointed you so badly that despite all your love, you can no longer think of them without thinking of the harm they did to you?"

Jaster turned slightly toward him, feeling the full weight of the question even though Feemor had kept his tone neutral and his face impassive. It was the first thing either of them had said in ten minutes, after Jaster had pointed out a few key buildings in their new position.

"I'm not sure I've ever loved deeply many people in my life," he admitted slowly, trying to gather his thoughts. "Only my family, and no one has ever deeply disappointed me."

In a way, however, what he was describing reminded him a little of Montross. Someone Jaster had respected, trusted, his second-in-command... who had wanted him dead. His betrayal had cast a dark shadow over all their memories together from an earlier time, destroying even the past.

He had done what he had to do, a traitor had no place among them, but... damn, it had hurt. He still remembered it. Then, as now, he had been unable to understand... or accept it. Betrayal hurt because it came from those you least expected it from.

"Forget what I just said, I see exactly what you mean."

"What did you do to move on?"

"I didn't, I executed him."

Then he realized what he was saying, and especially to whom, and wanted to take back his words, but it was too late.

"That seems... more serious than my own situations," said the blond man diplomatically, looking both curious and suspicious.

"You may remember, when we met, you told me you didn't like the vibes of one of my men, who, incidentally, didn't like you."

"Hmm... I admit I remember you most of all. There are legions of people who don't like me because I'm a Jedi, and even more among Mandalorians."

In a way, Jaster preferred it that way, that he only remembered him and not the others. That the negative had not left any traces. No need to burden himself with that.

"To make a long story short, he was a traitor. I would have been killed in an attack he helped coordinate a few days after we parted ways."

A hand rested on his arm, and even though his expression was somewhat hidden by the dim light of the distant city lights, Jaster knew he was looking at him with sadness.

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be. Your suspicion of him made me look and saved me. But what about you, why are you asking this question?"

"Among the Jedi, I have someone who... sort of abandoned me, both symbolically and emotionally, for a long time. I know it was very difficult for them too, but... I didn't deserve any backlash, we could have supported each other, and I was just... pushed aside."

"Does it still affect you today?"

"It does."

"And do you still see this person?"

"From time to time, I deliberately keep contact to a minimum, mainly through com calls, but... I don't know, I know we're taught to forgive, and I think I've sincerely done that, but I can't seem to move on and make everything the way it was before."

"Would you like everything to be the way it was before?" Jaster inquired.

"I don't know... maybe? It's just that I..."

"You don't trust them anymore," Jaster finished for him, recognizing what he himself had experienced. "It's good that you've forgiven them," he continued, lying completely on this point because he did not think betrayal could be forgiven, but he said it anyway because it was a Jedi point of view he had to take. "The problem, and the reason you can't move on, is that you don't think this person has learned and changed. That they'll do better next time. If you think deep down that they're going to hurt you again, you make sure you're not vulnerable with them, which is logical."

"That's not-"

"Do you think they would do better today if the same situation arose?"

The silence was a deafening answer at times.

"It's funny how right you are. I've thought about it a lot without ever figuring out why I couldn't do it, but you're right, it makes sense. I'd like to regain that blind confidence, that carefree attitude I had when I started out, that naive mindset of another era... but I know better now."

"What proof do we have that someone who has betrayed us won't do it again? I don't even theoretically know how you can restore broken trust," Jaster admitted. "Whether it's for a cause, a marriage, an expectation... when you prove yourself unreliable, people stop counting on you. Don't beat yourself up, let them prove their good faith or don't change anything, life is too short to put other people's feelings before our own."

"Oh my, are you becoming philosophical at nightfall?" The Jedi joked, but Jaster could hear the smile in his voice. "Thank you."

"You're welcome."

They stayed longer, and Jaster assumed he had a blackout due to alcohol when he woke up at home. A datapad from Jango right in front of his nose caught his attention, and he opened the highlighted file. Oh damn.

Feemor, effortlessly carrying the sleeping Jaster to his home.

... well... too bad for the rumours.

At least Feemor seemed to be doing better in these pictures, with a gentle, tender expression and a smile on his lips when Jaster sometimes muttered in his sleep without waking up... that was the kind of expression he should have all the time, he did not like to see him tense or worried.

He wanted him to be happy, he deserved it.

Chapter Text

Feemor had feared being intercepted as he carried Jaster like a princess – in full armour, the princess – to his place, but then he remembered on the way: they thought they were married.

Oops.

He had then gone to bed, mulling over the message he had received from his former Master: Xanatos was on Coruscant. Thanks to the help of his close friend the Chancellor, departures from the planet were heavily monitored, but they knew he could probably escape anyway if he put in the necessary money and audacity... and above all, and on this point Feemor agreed with Qui-Gon, he would not do it. He no longer wanted to hide: he wanted to confront them and take revenge.

How senseless. Revenge, as if they were the ones who had wronged him, when he had always been a terrible child and had tried to betray the Order by abandoning his duty for a crooked and opportunistic genitor. Feemor was not happy that Qui-Gon had killed Governor Crion, it was a life that could probably have been spared under other circumstances, but he understood why the Jedi had found himself in that situation. No one wanted to back down and none of them were reasonable, there was no good outcome possible.

He packed his bags and picked up Obi-Wan, who had not much belongings, only a few gifts given to him by his Mandalorian acquaintances who, although they disliked the Jedi, were fond of Obi-Wan as a sort of traumatized but combative mascot to be put back on his feet.

The Mandalorians were strange people, they could be very paradoxical while still finding themselves very logical. Feemor enjoyed the mental gymnastics they sometimes performed. It did not make much sense, but it was very entertaining.

Finally, they found themselves at the edge of the platforms where shuttles took off and landed, and it was almost time to say goodbye. They were just waiting for Jango to say farewell.

Antilles was going to stay until his Master arrived... never mind, she was already there. Before Jango, which meant that the young man was really late.

Every last trace of tension and nervousness vanished from the Padawan's body when he saw her, and even though he did not smile, he seemed deeply reassured.

"Master, Jaster Mereel and Obi-Wan Kenobi. This is Jedi Master An'ya Kuro, Padawan Antilles' guardian," he said, then introducing her to the others.

The greetings were cold, a silent nod and judgmental looks up and down.

"You have my thanks for ensuring my Padawan's safety these past few days."

"It's only natural."

"Where were you, if I may ask?" Jaster asked, naturally joining the conversation. "I understood that the young ones never left their tutors."

"Some people who are very good at hiding their identities are trying to buy Jedi, especially young ones. Jon attracted attention, so I went to make sure they forgot about him for good."

... She killed them, did not she?

"I didn't know you had taken on a Padawan yourself," she continued, looking at Obi-Wan. "How old is he? He looks like Jon when he was ten."

This was clearly an exaggeration, Antilles did not look that much older than Obi-Wan, just taller, but Obi-Wan surprised him by looking her straight in the eye with a hint of defiance.

"He's about to turn thirteen and has perfectly functional ears and mouth. "

"Interesting behaviour," she retorted, her tone clearly stating what she thought of it. "It seems you need to be a little stricter in your training so he knows how to behave around his elders."

"I am an Initiate. Master Feemor is in no way responsible for my shortcomings, and I give my full respect to those who deserve it."

Feemor exchanged a surprised glance with Jaster. He had such fire in him... it was somewhat surprising. He had a confident and determined side to him, well hidden beneath a great kindness and gentleness.

"Hmm..."

"Boys, Jango has to take off too. Now's your last chance to say goodbye," Jaster said softly, pointing to his son when Obi-Wan and Antilles turned around.

"What is this boy doing here if he has no Master?" The Master asked, glancing to make sure everything was okay with Jango and the Besalisk accompanying him before turning her full attention to Feemor.

"He was captured by slavers."

"To be sold?"

"At this point, it's hard to know if his kidnappers knew he was a Jedi. All I can say is that Jaster's people found him in an underwater mine."

"I see..."

Even she seemed disturbed. It must be said that this was a sensitive subject for all of them, their young ones. Speaking of young ones...

"You have a good kid there."

The Jedi did not react at first, her eyes searching for her student in a reflexive gesture that usually spoke volumes of their routines as a pair, but as she watched Jon stubbornly shake his head at whatever Obi-Wan was saying to him, a tiny smile stretched across her lips.

"I agree. Yours seems rather promising too. Determined, self-controlled, and protective. All good qualities for a Padawan."

Feemor looked at her with narrowed eyes. There was no braid, not even the beginning of one, in Obi-Wan's hair, and the boy had clearly said himself that he was not his. She could not have missed it.

"He's not my Padawan."

"There's no contradiction with what I said."

Feemor rolled hiseyes, choosing not to respond.

"It's our duty to train the next generation, don't forget that," she continued nonetheless. "If no one had trained us, we wouldn't be here. Listen to the Force and everything will be fine."

She called her Padawan back to her once Jango had left, and the two of them said goodbye and left together.

"She's certainly not as good with children as you are, but by my standards she seems pretty decent," Jaster said once she was far enough away. "The kid seems to trust her."

It was true... it was true. She made him feel safe. It was just Feemor who had a hard time with that kind of attitude, but deep down there was nothing wrong with her. Abrasive, yes, but not malicious, and that was what mattered most.

"He gave you a way to contact him, didn't he?"

Obi-Wan seemed surprised that the exchange of items had been noticed, but nodded.

"He told me to let him know when… when I become a Padawan."

It was good that they could stay in touch. Maybe they would meet again, that would be great.

"Have a safe trip, both of you," Jaster said as a final call summoned the last passengers to board. "By the way, Obi-Wan. If you ever find you can't be the Jedi you want to be, I'll gladly welcome you as one of my own."

Feemor looked at him in surprise, but was not as shocked as Obi-Wan, who stammered.

"I don't… but... you...?"

Feemor did not necessarily think Jaster was wrong, Obi-Wan could be a good Mandalorian in his own way, but... culturally speaking, would he even like being adopted by a man with Jaster's political and military role?

But Jaster seemed to have thought of that too.

"And if my lifestyle doesn't interest you, which I would completely understand, our Senator on Coruscant would love to have a son like you."

Perhaps being adopted by Adonai would suit him better, that was true. The man was a Senator, lived most of the time on Coruscant, and rubbed shoulders with Jedi even in the Senate, it would probably be a more suitable profile for him. But Adonai Kryze was not Jaster from an emotional standpoint, Obi-Wan would not trust a stranger.

"I... I won't forget it," Obi-Wan promised, bowing abruptly, his cheeks red. "Thank you."

"You're welcome. Be happy, kid. You too, of course."

Feemor smiled back at his Mandalorian friend.

"Thanks for everything, Jaster, and may the Force be with you."

The man stood still and waved to them until the door closed on his smile, and Feemor felt an unusual pang of sadness as they took off, one hand on Obi-Wan's shoulder as the boy stared at his knees. Goodbyes were never pleasant, but he did not really have a choice. Such was life.

It was time to go home.

Chapter Text

The journey was not that long, all things considered, but for Obi-Wan it might as well have lasted an eternity. Master Feemor was doing what he had to do, he understood that, but Obi-Wan was growing increasingly apprehensive and anxious as they got closer to Coruscant. He had no doubt about how things would turn out and was not looking forward to being rejected again.

No one had wanted him back then, no one would want him now.

Next to him, the adult stared straight ahead, jaw clenched, and Obi-Wan could only hope that his emergency was not too serious.

They changed ships twice, each time at slightly larger spaceports in relay stations on orbital stations, and finally they were at home, descending on Coruscant via smaller shuttles each targeting specific areas of the immense city planet.

"Something tells me that Jaster and his men actually have no idea where the Jedi Temple is located," Master Feemor joked as they exited and could barely make out the Temple's tallest tower in the distance."

"They must think it can't be as big as they say."

"That's probably it, or else they wanted to annoy us."

"That's possible too."

They took a taxi to get home directly and avoid the winding and sprawling public transport system of the planet, which, even at these upper levels, was in the end not that safe, and were dropped off right next to the Temple to climb the steps on foot.

Each step up the stairs gave Obi-Wan the impression not of returning home, but of heading to the slaughterhouse. Were they going to send him straight back to Agricorp? To Bandomeer?

"I need to speak to my Master urgently. I'll leave you with a friend and come back so we can decide together what to do next, if that's okay with you?"

Delay unpleasant confrontations? Of course it was okay with him!

"Excellent, let's go straight there then. Eeth promised me he'd be at home all day."

"Eeth?"

"Eeth Koth. He has a Padawan who will soon be a Knight, Sharad Hett. They're both very nice."

Obi-Wan nodded. Koth and Hett – he must not forget those names – and followed, carefully trying not to meet anyone's gaze so as not to attract attention. An honourable attempt, but insufficient, for a voice rang out loudly in the empty halls, calling his name.

"Obi-Wan?!"

The boy froze after tripping over his own feet, turning slowly.

"Quin?"

The young Kiffar Padawan, who seemed so much more mature and haunted than the last time he had seen him, looked at him as if he had seen a ghost and rushed towards him to hug him, shaking against him, breathing heavily from barely contained tears, and Obi-Wan could not even hold them back, crying tears of stress, distress, and relief into his best friend's hair and onto his shoulders.

"Obi-Wan, you're here, you're really here..."

"Quin..."

"Tholme and I have been looking everywhere for you since we heard the rumours of your disappearance. I... damn it, Obi, I thought I'd lost you, that I'd never see you again!"

Obi-Wan had also thought he would never see him again.

"Where was he?" He heard Master Tholme ask his comrade. "The High Council sent us to investigate, but we couldn't find any clues as to his whereabouts."

"It's... quite a long story, the details are blurry even to Obi-Wan himself. He was found-"

Other footsteps joined them, drawing the attention of the two boys, who reluctantly let go of each other, aware of how they were expected to behave in public.

"There you are at last, Feemor. I thought you'd be here earlier and was starting to... to..."

The Jedi Master who had spoken stopped short when he saw Obi-Wan, and the Initiate could feel himself going numb, unable to look away.

What was he doing here?

"I was making sure that this young Initiate, rescued from slavery in the underwater mines of Bandomeer, was okay, Master. I'm sure you understand."

Obi-Wan looked between the two men with wide eyes. Master Feemor was Master Jinn's former Padawan?!

"Of course, yes..."

The Jedi Master did not know what to say, and frankly, Obi-Wan was just as uncomfortable. He really had not wanted to see him ever again.

They finally looked at the neutral element of the conversation, and Master Feemor seemed to hesitate.

"Is it okay if I leave you with them for the time being?" He asked, clearly referring to Quinlan and Master Tholme.

A hand grabbed his, and Obi-Wan nodded, squeezing back firmly in response to the protective and tense Kiffar, who, he had no doubt, only wanted to get him to safety as quickly as possible.

"I'll leave him with you then. I'll come back later."

"Take your time. Let's go."

Without a moment's hesitation, he was led away by a hand that would not let go, and in a last glance back, Obi-Wan saw that Master Feemor had turned his back on him and that Master Jinn was talking to him, his brow furrowed. When their eyes met, he turned away, his heart pounding in his chest.

He doubted that he would appreciate Obi-Wan hanging around his former student... he could only hope that he would not try to turn him against him. Obi-Wan really liked him a lot, even though he was not going to be his Master.

Chapter Text

"When you said Bandomeer, I wasn't expecting this."

"I can imagine."

His former Master frowned, and Feemor raised an eyebrow judgmentally.

"I'm sorry, it's just..."

"Just...? Because I'd like some explanation about what happened with him."

"Not here."

What, he did not dare talk about it in the hallways? Too ashamed to be honest where others could see and hear? Afraid of judgment?

Qui-Gon whispered something into his com to an unknown person and entered his home, letting him follow and close the door behind him.

"I still can't believe you brought him back, he..."

Feemor waited patiently.

"Did he tell you where and how we met?"

"In general terms."

"I couldn't find him. I reported his disappearance to the High Council, they said they would send someone more qualified, but..."

"He hadn't even left the planet," Feemor murmured. "He hadn't even left Bandomeer. How did you not notice him?"

The Jedi Master had no answer.

"Clearly, the Living Force isn't everything."

Qui-Gon did not appreciate the remark but did not respond, preferring to focus on the substance of their conversation.

"How did you find and rescue him?” "

"I didn't do anything, it was Mandalorians. He was freed along with other slaves while they were rescuing one of their own."

"Mandalorians? My Master crossed paths with a group recently."

"Yes, I'll have to talk to him about that, but not now. I think we have other matters that are a little more pressing, don't you think?"

"Absolutely, I have... Wait a second, how did he go from Mandalorians to you?"

"I told you I was going to see a friend, didn't I?"

Qui-Gon looked at him almost as if he was a stranger as he seemed surprised and confused by what he was hearing. He had probably never mentioned it to him, even though he had nearly died. Even back then, he did not say much to Qui-Gon because he let Xanatos insult him almost every time they saw each other and he had already realized that it was better to detach himself than to fight in vain.

"You definitely need to go see your Grand Master after me."

"He's not really my Grand Master anymore, but yes, I know, it's planned."

Yes, I'm not letting it go, he thought with a look that said “Yes, I'm serious” when the other looked at him with annoyance. It had hurt him so much to be disowned like that. Coming back with a smile as if he had done nothing wrong would not work.

Jaster had put it so well: apologies meant nothing if they were not followed by action.

"Xanatos?"

"Involved in the black market and actively trading with the Hutts. Still present and active on Coruscant, the Council is concerned about a potential attack."

"That wouldn't be an unreasonable concern."

"Yes..."

"What are you thinking?"

"Did you come back via a Mandalorian transport?"

"No, a transport company and then a taxi that dropped us off near the Temple," Feemor clarified. "Why?"

"Xanatos pays attention to everything concerning me, and I doubt you've escaped his attention. If the boy was seen with you..."

He would be a target. If Xanatos took Obi-Wan for his Padawan, he would try to get to him to hurt Feemor.

"All the more reason to watch over him," he muttered.

Watch over him, but also find someone to take up the torch.

"I plan to help him find a Master. I hope you won't interfere."

"What do you mean?"

"He vaguely told me what you said to him, and I saw the way you looked at him. He's not Xanatos. You're being unnecessarily cruel by looking for flaws that you failed to detect at the time in innocent children. Stay away from him."

With these extremely clear words, he stood up and headed for the door without further formality, hoping he would be able to find Obi-Wan among all the Jedi, as he did not really know where his friend lived.

"Feemor."

The blond man stopped at the door.

"I don't intend to do anything to that boy. I don't think he's ready, but that's just my opinion."

"You're the one who isn't ready," Feemor sighed. "And it's the Master's role to take an immature child and turn them into a Jedi Knight ready to face the reality of the world. The day you realize that instead of waiting for some miraculous chosen one will be a big day, but in the meantime, I guess you'll just keep randomly hurting people, as usual."

He did not slam the door because it was an automatic door, but he almost wished he could have done so for the symbolism.

He was still as frustrating as ever, and the worst part was that he did not mean any harm... but good intentions were not always enough, and this man was living proof of that.

He had no time for that now, he had somewhere to be, someone was waiting for him.

Chapter Text

Obi-Wan only noticed that his hands were shaking when Master Tholme handed him a bowl of soup and placed it on the table when the redhead failed to grab it without spilling everything. Next to him, Quinlan watched him without looking away for a second, accepting his own bowl without looking. It was... extremely awkward.

The whole trip had been awkward.

His whole situation was awkward.

"Would you prefer that I leave you to eat alone?"

Obi-Wan was about to say no to Master Tholme – what a question, it was his own apartment and Obi-Wan had no right to ask him to leave for his own comfort – but a firm kick to the shin stopped him just in time. Quinlan.

"Master Saa has recently returned, she would appreciate company, especially if you bring food with you, Master."

"I agree, but I'd rather check with Obi-Wan to make sure he's comfortable with me leaving."

"Of course," he reassured him, "we'll stay here."

He had no desire to go out and expose himself to the gaze and judgment of others.

Master Tholme took the leftover food with him after preparing two more bowls in case they were still hungry, and slipped away.

Obi-Wan still had no appetite despite not having eaten for several hours, but he did feel a little more relaxed with him gone.

"You can talk to him just like you would to me," his friend said with a kind smile. "He is trustworthy."

Obi-Wan smiled without saying anything: he was not convinced, even though he knew Quinlan was being sincere. Quinlan smiled slightly in return: he knew him well enough to know what was going through his mind.

"So... tell me everything. Everything you can. And want to."

Obi-Wan looked down at his food, the spoon stirring in the liquid that was no longer hot, the bowl full. In the mines, he would have been lucky to eat even half of that in a day. He did not even know how to explain it.

"Obi-Wan, that Master... he mentioned slavery."

"Nothing too serious, don't worry."

A painful sound made him look up at Quinlan, who was staring at him with a devastated expression.

"Nothing too serious? Your hands say otherwise."

The redhead looked down at his hands. They were clean, there were still a few blisters, scrapes, and small shallow scars on his palms and fingers, but that did not... that did not... damn it. He had forgotten.

The moment he had touched his hands, he had felt what he had felt through them. The sensation of hard, painful work. The pain, the cold, the stiffness setting in.

Because of his psychometric gifts, Quinlan experienced the memories around him through the eyes of those who had experienced them, as if he had been there... because in a way, for a few seconds, he was him.

"It could have been worse," he finally whispered.

"What happened?"

"There was... an attack. Master Jinn was targeted."

"Jinn, the blond one?"

"No, the one with the long hair. The blond one is Master Feemor."

"Okay. Jinn, that name rings a bell. Didn't you try to be his Padawan?"

"What a success" he scoffed derisively. "I don't really know what the argument was about, but I was clearly collateral damage that they didn't know what to do with, and I ended up a slave without really knowing why. Did you..."

"Ask anything you want."

"Did you know I was missing?"

"Jinn reported you missing about a day after losing track of you, when he realized he wouldn't be able to find you on his own," Quinlan explained calmly. "He made a report to the Council, and the Council decided to put Tholme on the case. It wasn't just a turn of phrase earlier: we really did look for you. Our only mistake was trusting Jinn when he told us he didn't sense you on Bandomeer. We should have gone to check anyway."

"You didn't want to waste any time. I don't blame you."

"Still, we should have... It was a mistake that could have killed you."

Obi-Wan did not have the heart to tell him that exhaustion, hunger, and lack of sleep, combined with gruelling work, contagious diseases, and the ever-present threat of physical violence, could indeed have been fatal, and much sooner than he would have liked.

"Could we... not talk about this anymore?"

A hand touched his wrist, pulling away for a second when touching the still-scarred skin where the irons had wounded him, before tightening around it again.

"Of course, whatever you want, Obi. Can I tell the others? They'll want to see you."

"Who's there?"

If they were far away, he might be gone before they returned.

"Bant is here with her Master, Siri too, of course, since Master Gallia rarely leaves, and Garen will be back in a few days from another pilot training course."

"I'd like to see them then."

"The girls can come tonight, you can stay here anyway, can't you?"

"I think so, unless the Crèche insists that I go back to sleep with the other Initiates."

Since he no longer really belonged among them either, he doubted it.

"Initiates? But this Master..."

"He didn't offer to be my Master either," he briefly commented, with his head down. "And that's fine."

"But-"

"I assure you, it's okay. He's... really nice. He even wants to try to find me a Master."

"Why doesn't he take you himself?"

Obi-Wan had no answer other than "seems I'm not worthy enough", or some other similar formulation that, even though he was a nice kid, he was not nice enough to justify being taken on, so he said nothing. Quinlan did not like to hear him say these things. Even when they were true.

They had barely finished eating when Master Feemor was at the door, checking that he was okay before leaving them to eat himself, promising to return in the evening so they could resolve his precarious situation.

He found two of his close friends, cried a lot with Bant when she arrived, and relaxed in Quinlan's little bed with his three Clan mates. Without being able to say why, he did not feel as happy as he had imagined, but rather... numb. As if he was still struggling to realize it.

He was home. Safe. With his friends.

Or maybe deep down he did realize it, better than ever in fact: he had come home only to be sent away again.

It was hard to be truly happy and at peace when you were on borrowed time.

Chapter Text

"We weren't hoping for you anymore, my friend," Jedi Knight Eeth Koth said amusedly when his Padawan brought Feemor into their home.

"My apologies, I was delayed. Thank you," he added as Sharad silently took his cape and hung it up. "How have you been since last time?"

"Life is a cloudless sky for us, as always," his childhood friend replied, motioning for him to join him at the table where two empty plates were still set while the pair were already eating dessert. "But I don't see the child you wanted to entrust to me. Did something happen to him on the way?"

"I left him with one of his friends. They seemed to need a little more time together."

"Yes, the poor little thing must have been going through a difficult time. Don't look at me like that, it's pretty obvious. No Initiate disappears off the radar only to return as if they had gone on vacation."

"We don't have vacations."

Only short periods between missions. Few and far between. And they keep getting shorter, for that matter.

"Precisely."

Feemor smiled, realizing that he was not going to ask any more questions and would leave him alone. He helped himself to a generous portion – a Zabrak's hospitality would accept nothing less – and discussed topics that had nothing to do with Qui-Gon, Xanatos, or Obi-Wan. A few simple thoughts, without drama and even sometimes amused, depending on what he heard. The change did him good.

"Doesn't it feel strange?" He asked, referring to Sharad once the young man had left to train with his peers. "Soon he will be a Knight. He will fly the nest."

"To be honest, I think I'm still having trouble realizing it," his friend admitted with an uncertain smile. "Time passes so quickly. It feels like yesterday that I took him under my wing, and now he's ready to leave the nest. That doesn't mean we won't see each other anymore, but nothing will be the same."

Not the same, yes... and time was an even more important factor for him, given the faster development of the Zabrak. Although he was the same standard age as Feemor, Eeth had experienced a childhood that was roughly twice as fast, had lived through an accelerated adolescence, and had always been more mature. He understood how precious the early years were and how quickly they passed.

"Are you planning on taking another one?"

"Maybe someday, but not right away. I would feel like I was trying to replace him, which would be unfair to the child. Sharad is Sharad, he is irreplaceable. The child needs to have a place to take in his Master's life for everything to work out. What about you, anything new on that front?"

Feemor shook his head, but deep down his friend knew as well as he did that he had almost given up on the idea. He did not know if he was ready and had not felt a spontaneous connection in the Force drawing him to any particular child. The only thing left for him to do was to consciously choose a child and have that child choose him in return, but it was so random...

And he would not even mention the need for his choice to be validated by people who might well refuse to let him teach, because really, at this point, what was the point?

"I'm too cautious and anxious to make a rash and quick choice anyway. It would take me a long time to decide to take on a student. First, I have to be convinced that it would be a good thing for them."

"You know, Feemor... even with your unresolved disagreements with your Lineage, being chosen by you would only be a good thing for a youngling."

"You think so? There are so many ways to fail, even when you're convinced you're doing the right thing."

He had seen it with his own eyes. Bad choices, made by people who were wiser and more experienced than him.

"What serious failures have you experienced in your life? I'm not talking about a written assignment, an exam, or even a mission that we knew was risky but for which it was still our duty to try to help, even if our contribution wouldn't make much difference in the end. I'm talking about real, serious failures that are entirely your responsibility. What have you failed at?"

Feemor could not think of any specific examples. There must have been some, of course, but he could not recall them.

"The fear of failure, especially when it comes to a child's future, is a healthy thought to keep in mind during critical moments," Eeth admitted gently, placing a hand on his shoulder as he stood up. "But if that fear paralyzes you, you won't do anything. Don't forget what Master Yoda said. There is no try, not because you can't fail and then try again, but because you have to put your heart into every attempt and see only the finish line."

"You're definitely going to become a Master," Feemor muttered as he watched him walk away with the almost empty plate toward the kitchen.

The Zabrak laughed, his hair and long clothes swaying with his rapid movements, and Feemor felt a deep sense of nostalgia. Sometimes, when he was with friends from the Crèche, even though he often felt out of place, he had the feeling that none of them had aged. As if they were and would always remain children at heart.

Someone rang the doorbell, and Feemor went to answer it because his friend was still busy, ready to tease Sharad for forgetting his key. It was not Sharad. It was Master Windu.

Master Windu? Why is he...

"Knight Feemor. May I come in?"

"Um..." Feemor said stupidly, not quite sure how to behave since he was not at home.

"Already here?" Eeth called out, probably to help him, his voice muffled by the distance. "Come in, you're just in time. I was about to bring out the liqueur."

"No thanks," replied the Korun, heading for the kitchen and walking between the door and Feemor, who moved at the last moment, still uncertain. "Your rotguts just aren't my cup of tea."

"Don't be a baby, it tastes great."

"The sensation of taste buds burning is not a taste."

They were friends, Feemor understood from their conversation and tone. True friends. When had that happened?

He was pretty sure it was not every day that a Jedi Knight became friends with the Master of the Order!

"I'll leave you now, thank you Eeth for the meal."

He had barely taken three steps when Master Windu stopped him without even giving him the order to do so.

"Are you really not going to tell me about Kenobi?"

Feemor felt frozen, unable to make the slightest movement.

"How-"

"Master Jinn immediately informed us that we could stop the search. And that you were the one who found him and brought him back. The Council has a lot of questions."

When he looked back, he saw Master Windu sitting down and Eeth joining him with a slightly disapproving but unsurprised look.

"Why don't you come back and sit with us? We have a lot to discuss."

Chapter Text

Obi-Wan had loved every second spent with his friends and hoped to spend the night with Quinlan, but very quickly a familiar presence approached and Quinlan went to open the door.

It was just the two of them now that the others had returned to their Masters. The Kiffar had already taken a shower and taken out some clothes for him. It seemed they would not be needed. Unless they could convince him to let him stay the night?

One glance at the front door and the boy knew for sure that would not happen. He then took a step back when he saw Master Windu enter Quinlan's home with Master Feemor.

He was not afraid of him, but... okay, he was afraid. Not of the man, because he admired him greatly, but of what he represented.

An impartial institution that had no place for failures like him.

"Initiate Kenobi."

"Master Windu," he stammered, bowing immediately, noticing out of the corner of his eye that Quinlan was doing the same.

"Padawan Vos. Is your Master not here?"

"He's having dinner with Master Saa," his friend replied flatly, with an almost sardonic smile for the impassive Master, who seemed amused for a second for some reason before continuing.

"You must be relieved that this search mission is over."

"I still lack a detailed understanding of far too many elements to be satisfied with this ending... but I am indeed satisfied that there has been an ending."

"We are two. Please follow us, Initiate Kenobi."

"Where are we going?" Obi-Wan blurted out, unable to help feeling worried.

"To the Crèche," the Korun replied calmly, patiently, and almost gentle. "It's getting late, you need to rest."

"You will be able to see each other every day," Master Feemor added, clearly referring to Quinlan. "Your Crèche Master has been informed of your return and is waiting for you. She has been very worried about you."

Master Vant? Oh, Force, Master Vant... Obi-Wan silently apologized to Quinlan with a glance, and the other boy understood.

Master Vant was a mother to him the way no other figure in his life ever could be. She had taken care of him and their entire Clan. She had been a guide and a protector. She had been everything to them, their role model, their reference. Of course, she was not perfect. She did not see them all as they really were, but she never meant any harm.

If he had to cry in the arms of an adult in this Temple, it would be in hers. Perhaps on a par with Master Feemor now, but still.

She was the first one who mattered.

He followed the two men closely, glad it was late because they did not see many people in the corridors and most of the children in the nursery were already in bed.

They headed towards his Clan's area, and Obi-Wan did not recognize many people, just a few children his age, as all the others were already Padawans and had been replaced by younger children.

They waited in a hallway so as not to disturb anyone, and Obi-Wan smiled at the happy Rutian Twi'lek who finally approached.

At that moment, it did not matter to him that she had told him about his unfair departure for the Agricorps. It did not matter that she had not believed him. He had missed her.

"Obi-Wan."

"Master Vant."

"I was so worried about you," she said softly, placing a hand on his shoulder. "How are you?"

"I'm fine, all things considered."

"Yes, you seem rather unscathed... I'm sorry you had to go through such a difficult time. I should never have allowed you to leave for the Agricorps four weeks early, no matter the blame that's been placed on you."

Master Windu answered behind him.

"It wasn't an unreasonable punishment either."

"We have rules for a reason. If they had been followed, none of this would have happened."

"We can't know that."

Obi-Wan had to rationally agree that they coud not know that, but since he was still angry at not being listened to or believed, he was not going to say anything.

After an extremely long silence, Master Feemor cleared his throat insistently, seemingly calling Master Windu to order.

"We'll leave you for tonight. Get some rest."

"Thank you, Masters, good night."

"Good night, Obi-Wan. Master Vant."

"Good night."

As soon as they disappeared, Obi-Wan hugged Master Vant, squeezing her even tighter when she bent down to hug him back.

"Oh, Obi-Wan, I'm so sorry. I'll take you to the Halls first thing tomorrow morning after I've handed the others over to their teachers."

Obi-Wan nodded, rather agreeing with that.

"Can Master Feemor come?"

"Knight Feemor can come, of course," she corrected gently and without judgment, stating the facts. "He'll be glad to be reassured about your health."

Obi-Wan nodded. He was taken to the showers and found some comfort in the familiar sequence of movements in a familiar place. He was home.

Finally, he was directed to the dormitory and his bed, gritting his teeth as he heard a sarcastic comment as he passed. Master Vant, who had not entered with him, obviously did not hear it.

"Oh no, look who someone pulled out of the trash to bring back to us like a starving kitten. Oafy-Wan."

Alto, his closest friend, snickered from a little further away, and Obi-Wan finally decided it was not worth it and ignored them.

It was the only thing he had not missed. That jerk almost made him want to ask to be sent away from the Temple as soon as possible just so he would not have to put up with him anymore.

That said... it was still an option, was not it? If he fought him in public, they would not let him stay. It was just another way out.

"Sweet dreams of the Agricorps, where you belong."

Obi-Wan clenched his fists under the sheets, where no one could see him, an unusual rage burning like acid in his chest.

He had no idea.

Chapter Text

Jaster turned away from Jango, his mouth open, a question on his lips, and stopped himself just in time.

There was no one there.

When he turned back to his son, he was looking at him with a knowing look.

"Don't."

"Are you serious? You forgot he wasn't even there."

"They just left!"

"So what? They were only there for a few days, it seems like you miss him."

Of course he missed him! Jaster was not used to having friends with whom things were so natural and who would not judge him because of his non-Mandalorian perspective. With Feemor, he would not only have someone empathetic and compassionate, but also someone reasonable and logical.

In his eyes, Jaster would never be too Mandalorian or not Mandalorian enough.

He would just be a friend he liked.

"You're hopeless."

"Stop it."

"No, you stop it. You're not like that."

"What, you want to lecture me for enjoying the company of a foreigner, really? I want your suitor over for dinner tonight."

"He's already busy..."

"I want him to eat here at least once in the coming week, he'd better find the time."

Jaster had already initiated an investigation into this Dexter, but regardless of what the investigation revealed, the most important thing here was not what he thought but how Jango felt about him. If he was serious, Jaster wanted to get to know him. Even if he turned out to be someone he did not like, he wanted to get to know him.

This was the man his son was dating, for Manda's sake! His first known relationship! The one he thought he would not live long enough to see!

This boy was a late bloomer when it came to love. Just like his father. Jaster was not ashamed to admit that he was as clueless about romance as you could get.

Sex was doable, but at his age he no longer had the same libido and found himself generally uninterested in one-night stands anyway. If it was just about physicality, he had his hand or toys. What he really lacked was an emotional connection.

Deep feelings, obvious chemistry, and an alignment of mindsets, priorities, and goals.

It might seem simple, but it was not that easy. Many of the couples around him had broken up because they thought they had it, but once the honeymoon period that literally prevented them from seeing each other's flaws was over, they realized there were too many incompatibilities.

It was not with him that their people would have a riduur'alor, but with a little luck Jango would give them something to chew on in that regard.

"Don't scare him," his son finally muttered, getting his attention.

It was subtle, but Jaster was a buir, he could tell when his son was tense beneath a sulky pout.

"That's not my goal. I just want to get to know him."

"I know, but it's still new, and not really well defined..."

Something to change, perhaps?

"Don't wait too long to make it official if that's what you want, son. No one waits forever."

It would be a shame if the one time he started to consider something lasting with someone, it all ended because he was too hesitant to take the plunge.

"I know, it's just... hard to know what you're feeling when you're feeling so much. It's nice when it's short moments away from the world, but neither of us has experienced each other in our respective everyday environments. It's still too early to know that."

He could understand that. A solid, serious relationship was not built in two weeks. He was so excited that he was probably pushing his boundaries a little.

"If you think it'll make him uncomfortable, forget it."

"Uncomfortable, him?" Jango reacted, chuckling softly. "Oh no, he'll love coming. Where he comes from, when you start a relationship, it's customary to go and see family and friends to claim the relationship so that no one else takes an interest in your partner. I'm the coward."

"Really? This young man seems to know what he wants, then."

Jango shook his head, amused. Jaster did not understand. His intentions seemed obvious!

"Buir, when I say it's different, it is. He can go visit a family, have fun with you for a week, you break up, and three days later he's in front of another family. No one is usually that fickle, but in theory, they'll introduce themselves out of habit before their interest becomes deep."

"It doesn't seem stupid to me. At least it gives them time to see if strong feelings develop or not without rivalry."

Jaster glanced discreetly at his son and smiled. When had he become so open to the world that he allowed himself to feel so much for an aruetii? And to the point of being afraid of loving the other more than he was loved?

His boy was becoming a man in the arts of love, it was quite a moment.

"I'll make sure to welcome him properly," he promised before changing the subject for his son's sake. "Do you think they arrived safely?"

"It depends. Do you trust Myles?"

"Yeah."

"Then they arrived safely, or else you'd already know."

Jaster could – possibly – have sent one of his men to accompany his two Jedi to ensure that they both arrived safely at their destination. No, it was not a lack of confidence, nor even paranoia. It was just that there was a pattern, that's all.

Feemor had been saved at the last minute, Obi-Wan too, even Jedi could be put in danger and attacked, it was better to be prepared for any eventuality.

"Any news about the brat?"

He really was a brat at this point.

"Who, Bane? Not yet."

The Duros had seen for himself that his bounty had been withdrawn when those who had ordered his death had died, so going after Jaster made no sense, especially since he would literally have more than a hundred vengeful Mandalorian mercenaries on his tail. It was not worth the risk.

Working with said Mandalorians, on the other hand...

Yeah, Jango had managed to turn his would-be assassin. What a good boy, he would go far in my life. The day he was as diplomatic with sophisticated people as he was with the underworld would be a great day for the future of Mandalore, and Jaster could die in peace.

With any luck, he would find out who was after Feemor and why. And then Jaster could kill them.

That said, he did not entirely like the idea of acting in the shadows to help his Jedi without him knowing. He did not want to wait several years for gods to decide to do the right thing. He wanted to see Feemor again and make sure the kid was okay. To be reassured that they were truly safe.

... He wanted to go to Coruscant.

"Bad idea," Jango muttered when he shared this absurd thought with him....

He was right. It was a bad idea. It would be stupid.

The Jedi would not appreciate him disrupting their lives and their organization by barging in to investigate the enemies of a certain blond man who insisted on dealing with them alone.

But still, if he could just go to Coruscant, no matter the reason... it would be really nice.