Handle with Care - K_R_Closson - Star Wars (2024)

Chapter 1

Chapter Text

Obi-Wan is on Tatooine, checking up on Shmi Lars when he receives the communication from Master Yoda. His former Master, Qui-Gon Jinn chased a bounty hunter to Geonosis and got himself captured. He managed to contact his padawan, Anakin Skywalker, and now Anakin and Senator Amidala of Naboo are also captured on Geonosis.

“Tatooine is only a short distance away,” Obi-Wan tells Master Yoda. “I can leave immediately.”

“A stop you must make first,” Master Yoda says. His blue visage flickers. “To Kamino you must go. An army there, Master Qui-Gon discovered. Help, you will get and then rescue, you will.”

“Help?” Obi-Wan echoes. “An army?”

“No time to waste, there is. A small force, you will take. If reinforcements are needed, follow I will.”

Master Yoda signs off shortly after, and Obi-Wan drags a hand through his hair. It’s shoulder-length now, more gold than red after a few months under Tatooine’s twin suns. He checks his ship to make sure he has enough supplies and then leaves without any further ado. His former master is in trouble and apparently there’s an army just waiting to help Obi-Wan get him back.

Maybe Kamino will have more answers than Master Yoda.

Obi-Wan’s ship is small, sleek, and Stewjoni made. It means the chairs are all backless, and there is enough space in the co*ckpit for him to stretch his wings out. As a padawan, he had a small pair of wings which emerged from the middle of his back. It wasn’t easy to tuck them away, but he learned, because they were too obvious.

After he was knighted, after Naboo, he spent a few years on Stewjon to learn about his people. Now, he has a full set of wings, three on either side. They’re even more obvious and even more difficult to tuck away, so he’s grateful for a ship that accommodates his peculiarities.

There are rumors in the galaxy that Stewjon is afraid of the Force and hates the Jedi, but, as with many rumors, it isn’t quite true. Stewjon is a planet soaked in the Force and, like many, they have their own approach. It isn’t the same as the Jedi. It isn’t the same as the guardians on Jedha or the rebels on Corellia or the witches of Dathomir. On Stewjon, Obi-Wan learned to interact with the Force in a new way.

As his Force awareness and control grew, so did his wings. He can do things with them that he used to use the Force to do. And, since his wings are a manifestation of his own Force presence, he still uses the Force to do them. But it’s different than his temple’s teachings. He will never be a typical Jedi again. And he will never be a typical Stewjoni. He will be a mix of them both.

Something new.

His wings shimmer, light blue like his saber blade, tipped with silver. The color changes depending on his mood. It’s apparently a skill that Stewjoni toddlers learn and control, but Obi-Wan never learned. At least Stewjoni are rare enough that no one outside his planet realize that his wings are a blinking sign. And, of course, he keeps them hidden or invisible unless he’s safely on his ship.

He taps his fingers on the nav console as he travels. An army on Kamino. A capture and, no doubt, slated execution on Geonosis. What is happening in the galaxy? After Obi-Wan’s time on Stewjon, he began the life of a solo knight on the Outer Rim. He knows there’s discontent. He’s heard about a burgeoning Separatist movement. It doesn’t explain why there’s an army on Kamino or why Master Yoda would know about it or have the authority to deploy them.

He looks up Kamino and comes up with nothing. That isn’t particularly reassuring. A hidden army on a hidden planet?

He closes his eyes and settles into a meditation. He has a feeling that once he lands on Kamino, he won’t have the time to center himself before starting on his rescue mission.

#

Kamino is in the midst of a raging storm which makes landing difficult. Obi-Wan pulls his wings in tight, tucking them under his skin, because even if they’re Force feathers, they still don’t appreciate getting wet.

Obi-Wan pulls on his weatherproof cloak. Time to test its warranty claim. He flips the hood up, checks to make sure his lightsabers are clipped to his belt, and then he descends the landing ramp. Wind and rain whip at his face and he ducks his head so his hood will take the brunt of it. He hurries to cross the landing platform.

The double doors to the nearest building are under a small overhang, but with the rain being pushed sideways, the roof doesn’t provide much cover. He’s about to knock when the doors slide open. On the other side of them are two beings with long, thin necks, and a man in white plastoid armor.

The man’s helmet is tucked under his arm. His features are hard, and his gaze is harder. His short, military cut black hair doesn’t add any softness to his posture. He is larger than Obi-Wan, and he’s much broader than the two beings Obi-Wan doesn’t recognize, but their thin, swaying necks give them the height advantage.

Obi-Wan draws his hood back and bows respectfully. “I am Jedi Knight Obi-Wan Kenobi. I was informed you would be expecting me.”

“Yes,” the armored man says with a pointed look at the two others. “General Yoda informed us of your impending arrival.”

“General?” Obi-Wan repeats. He shakes himself after a moment. This isn’t the time. “There are three members of the Republic that I have been tasked to rescue from a battle arena. Do you have any, uh, divisions which specialize in infiltration or rescue?”

One of the long-necked beings sways in what seems like an affronted manner. “We have many. However, we have one very specialized company, for a specialized Jedi.” The being looks at Obi-Wan significantly.

Obi-Wan does his best not to sigh. It’s been a long time since he had a diplomatic mission, but he has manners somewhere, buried deep inside his head. “What kind of specialization?”

“Are you the winged Jedi?” the armored man asks.

Obi-Wan’s wings flutter against the skin holding them back. Obi-Wan grits his teeth against the rippling sensation. “You have a company who was designed to fight alongside a winged Jedi?” How did the Kaminoans know there was a winged Jedi? Obi-Wan’s origins aren’t common knowledge, and his wings are an even more closely guarded secret.

“Yes.” Both of the long-necked beings eye him intently.

Obi-Wan looks at the man in armor. “Have you seen this company train?”

“They’re one of the companies in my battalion. We’re ready to deploy as soon as we have the go-ahead.”

Obi-Wan has a hundred different questions. How big is a battalion? Is there a ship here capable of holding them all? Who even is Obi-Wan talking to? “Then, let’s deploy, and hopefully you will be willing to answer some of my questions on the way. Who do I have the pleasure of speaking with?”

The man scoffs. “I’m not sure it’s a pleasure, but I’m Alpha-17. I’m the commander of the 501^st attack battalion. The Winged Company is one of four companies which makes up the battalion.” He taps the comm unit on his wrist. “Admiral Kal’ika, we have the Jedi. Once we’re onboard, start the jump to Geonosis.” Alpha-17 turns expectantly to Obi-Wan. “Are you prepared to transport up to The Resolute?”

“Are we taking my ship there or do I need to pack an overnight bag?”

Alpha-17 grins as if he finds Obi-Wan’s particular brand of humor amusing. “Your vessel is small enough, we can take it up. I haven’t seen anything like it before.”

Obi-Wan draws his hood up again. Alpha-17 secures his helmet and then they brave the rain. Once they’re both on the ship, Alpha-17 sits in the pilot’s chair, despite saying he’d never seen this kind of craft before.

“No backs on the seats,” Alpha-17 comments. His voice is different coming through the helmet. “The switches look similar enough.”

Obi-Wan helps him launch the ship and then Alpha-17 flies it toward the far side of the planet. They break atmosphere and Obi-Wan can’t help but inhale sharply as the Venator-class star destroyer appears in their view. “That’s your ship? A bit much for a snatch and grab.”

“I believe in being prepared.” Alpha-17 expertly navigates them into the docking bay. He settles them between two V-wing starfighters.

As they disembark, a ship-wide announcement warns that the jump to hyperspace is imminent and to brace yourself. The docking bay is full of beings in white plastoid armor, and they all expertly brace themselves. The ship makes the jump and then, once it’s moving smoothly, everyone returns to motion.

Obi-Wan can feel the stares as the—soldiers?—watch him and Alpha-17 move through the docking bay. There are even more armored beings in the hallways, and they stare as well. Alpha-17 doesn’t stop to speak with any of them, and Obi-Wan hurries to keep up with the fast-moving man.

A warren of hallways and lifts later, they reach the starboard bridge. From what Obi-Wan remembers, the starboard bridge is main command, and the port bridge is where the starfighter operations lives.

“Jedi on the bridge!” Alpha-17 barks.

The armored beings all come to attention, their posture ramrod straight. Obi-Wan glances at Alpha-17. “Who is in command? You or the admiral?”

“At ease,” Alpha-17 and the armored beings relax. He takes his helmet off and hooks it to his belt. “You aren’t taking command?”

It’s asked casually—too casually. A trick, perhaps? A trap? Certainly, a test. Obi-Wan shifts until he has enough space to unfurl his wings. He keeps them invisible, but it’s a relief to stretch them out. He tucks his hands into his sleeves. “I am a Jedi knight assigned to rescue three people. I was told I would find help on Kamino, but I do not know any of you. If I’m supposed to be in command, then my command is to remain in orbit while I make a solo rescue.”

Alpha-17’s smile is sharp. “And if you’re not in command?”

“Then I would very much appreciate speaking to whoever is so we can coordinate before we reach Geonosis.”

Now, the people on the bridge fully relax. Whatever test it was, Obi-Wan passed.

“This is Jedi knight Obi-Wan Kenobi,” Alpha-17 introduces. “You will address him as…” He looks to Obi-Wan.

“Knight Kenobi, if you would,” Obi-Wan says.

“Knight Kenobi.” Alpha-17 nods. “Admiral Kal’ika, please step forward.”

Admiral Kal’ika steps forward. They remove their helmet and—Obi-Wan looks from Admiral Kal’ika to Alpha-17. They’re too similar to be a coincidence, but they aren’t exact copies of each other. For one thing, Alpha-17 is larger. Taller, broader, but they both have the same hard, mean look to their faces.

“The Resolute is Admiral Kal’ika’s,” Alpha-17 explains. There’s a smile in his eyes, as if he knows Obi-Wan has other questions he wants answered. “There is a crew of about seven and a half thousand. Right now, there are an additional four battalions onboard, which brings our total number to near ten thousand.”

Obi-Wan restrains himself to a quiet, Huttese swear. “If you have a briefing on the structure and organization of the army—navy? I would appreciate it.”

Another armored being steps up to their small group. Obi-Wan shifts so no one will accidently brush his wings. The newcomer has a datapad in hand. They tap a few times. “The briefing is now included on your datapad. I’ll add anything else you request and give it to you once we’re finished on the bridge.”

“Thank you,” Obi-Wan says. He drags out the last word, hoping for an introduction.

“Commander Cody, sir. I command the 212^th battalion. Currently onboard is the 212^th, the 501^st, the 104^th, and the 187^th battalions.”

“Thank you, Commander Cody. Would you mind terribly removing your helmet?”

Alpha-17 and Admiral Kal’ika both smirk as Commander Cody removes their helmet. Another familiar face, but more similar in build to Kal’ika than Alpha-17. Cody’s face is marked by a long, curved scar around his eye. Even if it wasn’t, Obi-Wan has the sense of him now in the Force.

Obi-Wan looks between the three men. “Has anyone ever told you that you look remarkably like a bounty hunter by the name of Jango Fett?”

“He was the template for the clone army,” Cody says.

Obi-Wan flares his wings out instinctively for balance. Small currents of wind ripple through the bridge, and he can see the soldiers tilt their heads, puzzled. “Clone army?” Obi-Wan repeats.

Cody fixes Alpha-17 with an unimpressed look. “Stop hazing the Jedi.” Another few taps on the datapad. “I’ve included another three briefings for you, sir, to help explain the situation.”

“No need to call me sir,” Obi-Wan says. He isn’t sure three briefings are enough to explain what’s happening here, but he appreciates Cody’s helpfulness. “Do you happen to have a roster as well?”

Commander Cody frowns, but it’s Admiral Kal’ika who says, “We’re clones, si—Knight Kenobi.”

“You’re not identical.” Obi-Wan gestures between Cody and Kal’ika as proof. “I won’t have a handle on your unique Force signatures until I meet each of you, but I can at least begin familiarizing myself with your names.”

“Unique Force signatures?” Cody asks. He steps closer to Obi-Wan, and Obi-Wan pulls his wings back, so the man doesn’t touch them.

Obi-Wan can feel the hum of interest and hope in the room and it doesn’t take long to identify the source. These men, this army, all cloned from Jango Fett and then put in identical white armor. No wonder they’re so interested in the prospect of individuality.

“It’s like an ident, I suppose,” Obi-Wan says. “But it’s one that only Force users can sense. You all feel differently in the Force. That argument is used in the law which outlaws cloning in Republic space. Which does beg the question of who commissioned this army and why Master Yoda, a Jedi and citizen of the Republic, has any authority over it.”

“All available knowledge is in the briefing,” Cody says.

“You are my new favorite person,” Obi-Wan tells him. To his delight, Cody flushes and ducks his head.

“You’re going to hurt Rex’s feelings,” Alpha-17 says. “And I wouldn’t care, except he sulks.”

“Who is Rex?” Obi-Wan asks.

Another white-armored being steps forward. He removes his helmet and reveals close-cropped blonde hair. “Captain Rex, sir. I lead the Winged Company.”

“The Winged Company?” Obi-Wan repeats.

Rex glances at Alpha-17. At Alpha-17’s nod, Rex presses a button on his vambrace and two wings erupt from the pack on his back. They’re horizontal wings, like Obi-Wan’s first. They’re probably close to eight feet tip to tip. The metal feathers glint under the bridge lights.

Obi-Wan opens his mouth, but Cody beats him to speaking. “In the briefing, Knight Kenobi.”

“I don’t mind explaining,” Rex says. He retracts his wings back into the special pack. “The Winged Company has two platoons with wingpacks. The wings are made out of beskar, which means they are blasterproof, saberproof, and—well, those details you can read in the briefing. All seventy-two of us received specialized training. We can fly and we can fight in-air. Aside from flying, the wings can be used to shield or even as a weapon if needed. If you’re looking to run a rescue, we’re the team who can do it.”

Obi-Wan has more questions, but the bridge isn’t the place to ask them. “Is there a space on this ship large enough for me to meet your two platoons and see some demonstrations?”

Rex grins, as if he was only looking for an excuse to show off. “The Resolute has a training room built specifically for us. I’ll have Firebird and Hawke gather the platoons and meet us there.” He looks to Alpha-17. “Permission to be dismissed, sir?”

“Permission given,” Alpha-17 says, “But Cody and I will be accompanying you.”

“Both of you?” Rex asks.

“Cody might need to download more information for our Jedi guest,” Alpha-17 says, somehow managing to mock both Obi-Wan and Cody at the same time.

They make their way off the bridge, and Obi-Wan finds himself walking with Alpha-17 as Cody and Rex lead the way to the training room. “I’ve heard of Mandalorians using jetpacks, but wingpacks are new to me,” Obi-Wan says.

“There are companies with jetpacks, but they aren’t standard issue. And I wouldn’t know about wingpacks. The Prime suggested they were new. There was a need.”

“Because of a winged Jedi.”

“You seemed surprised when I knew there was a winged Jedi. Is that information classified?”

“As far as I’m aware, there are only a few Jedi who are aware of one with wings. That information should never have made it to Kamino.”

“Who knows?”

They step into a lift, which means Obi-Wan has to tuck his wings inside himself again. “Master Yoda, Master Jinn, Master Windu, and myself. I suppose if Master Yoda and Master Jinn both know, there is a possibility one of them told Master Dooku. Or, former Master Dooku, now Count Dooku.”

“The Separatist leader,” Cody says.

“What about Sifo Dyas?” Alpha-17 asks.

“Sifo Dyas?” Obi-Wan hasn’t heard that name in a long time. “I…I don’t see why he would know, but it doesn’t matter. He’s dead.”

“Dead?” Alpha-17 exchanges a look with Cody. “He’s the Kaminoans’ contact with the Order. They speak to him at least once a year.”

“He’s definitely dead,” Obi-Wan says. “I—”

“Made a note of it,” Cody says, industriously tapping away. “On your pad, so you can follow up with the Jedi and on mine so Alpha-17 and I can do our own investigation.”

“Right. Thank you.”

The lift doors open, and they go down a new hallway. Obi-Wan has a vague idea of where they’ve gone, but he hopes the information Cody is compiling for him will include a map. A spaceship that holds ten thousand beings is large enough to be a city. On some planets, at least.

They finally make it to large, open room that must span several decks in height. There are more than seventy-two soldiers waiting for them.

“The Winged Company numbers at one-hundred forty-four,” Rex says. “Two platoons of soldiers with wingpacks and then two platoons to offer support.”

“And explosives!” The soldier who offers this cheerful exclamation is immediately elbowed and hushed by his companions.

Rex pinches the bridge of his nose. “That’s Fives. He’s part of Domino squad. They report to Sergeant O-Niner—” Rex points to a solider who raises his hand—“who in turn reports to Lieutenant Pulse.” Another raised hand.

“Alright,” Obi-Wan says. “A company is one-hundred forty-four men, led by a captain. In this case it’s you, Captain Rex. Within a company are four platoons, each led by a lieutenant. Within those platoons are squads, led by a sergeant.”

“Four squads per platoon, nine vode per squad,” Rex says.

“Vode?” Obi-Wan finds himself surprised again. “You speak Mando’a?”

“A bastardized version, anyway,” Rex says and then he grimaces and snaps to attention.

“I’m not your commanding officer,” Obi-Wan reminds him. “I’d like to introduce myself to the whole company, if possible, and then if I could speak to the wingpack vode, I would appreciate it.”

“Your accent is sh*t,” Alpha-17 says.

Obi-Wan grins. “Kalevalan. If Jango Fett taught you, you most likely have his Concord Dawn accent.” Before they can ask any more questions about his knowledge of Mandalore, he bows to the assembled company. “I am Jedi Knight Obi-Wan Kenobi. If we could start on the far left and go down each row, I would appreciate it. Name, platoon, and squad, if you please.”

The vode seem surprised that he wants to know their names in return, but they react quickly enough. He now has a Force signature to put with Lieutenant Firebird and Lieutenant Hawke. He is reintroduced to Fives, along with Fives’s squadmates, including Droidbait, Echo, Cutup, and Hevy. There are two medics assigned to the company, Fizz and Kix, but every squad has at least two vode with basic field medic training.

He can’t quite keep in his laugh when he’s introduced to Hook, Line, and Sinker, in that order. They beam back at him, clearly pleased with their naming. Once introductions are done, Firebird and Hawke’s platoons break off from the others. The others line the edge of the room, along with Cody and Alpha-17.

Rex joins his two platoons and snaps out his wings again.

“They’re gorgeous,” Obi-Wan says.

Rex preens. Around him, the other wingpack vode space themselves out and then snap out their wings as well. Rex is the first to power up his wings. With a few powerful flaps, he rises up into the air. There’s a low hum from whatever powers his wings but it’s not nearly as loud as Obi-Wan would expect, even as several others join him in the air.

They fly lazily, easily, showing off how agile they are. At Alpha-17’s order, only Mo’s squad stays up in the air to show off against a training simulation. As Rex promised, they can fire their blasters from the air, they can use the wings to shield against blasterfire, and they can even fight with the wings. The last one they demonstrate with each other so they don’t dismember any of the training droids.

Rex touches down on the ground, along with Sergeant Mo and the rest of the squad.

“Well?” Alpha-17 asks.

“This mission has a much higher chance of success now,” Obi-Wan says. “There are three high priority targets being held in a Geonosian execution arena. Per tradition, they will be restrained in the center of the arena and then a number of creatures will be released to eat them in front of a cheering crowd. Our goal is to rescue the three targets. Ideally, we’ll cause no damage or harm any of the natives. Hence, the rescue team rather than deploying the full might of The Resolute.”

“Why?” Hook asks. He dodges Zippy’s elbow and scowls. “It’s a valid question, and he isn’t our commanding officer.”

“Correct on both counts,” Obi-Wan says. “Geonosis is a sovereign planet. Master Jinn was captured when he was chasing a bounty hunter. Padawan Skywalker and Senate Amidala snuck onto the planet to rescue him, and they were also captured. According to Geonosian law, they are allowed to be executed for their crimes. There is an argument we can make for rescuing our own people, but if anything we do is seen as an attack, it might start a conflict we are not prepared for.”

“Like a war?” Alpha-17 asks drily. He gestures to the soldiers around him.

“The fact that there was a secret army and now a convenient reason to start a war is cause for even more concern,” Obi-Wan says.

“We were made for this war,” Pulse says. He looks to Alpha-17 as if he needs reassurance.

“I think,” Obi-Wan says, taking a deep breath, “that I should take some time to read the briefings Commander Cody has assembled for me.”

“First, you should show us your wings, so we know how to incorporate you into the rescue,” Alpha-17 says. He doesn’t give Obi-Wan time to come up with a lie. “Those you listed who know are all generals. You are the only exception. If you know, it’s because you are the winged Jedi.” Alpha-17’s lips curve up in a smug smile. “I was genetically engineered and then trained to be a master strategist and tactician, and you didn’t even try to hide it.”

Obi-Wan nods. “I am the winged Jedi, but I meant it when I said the information is closely guarded. Given the stakes, I understand that I must reveal my wings to you, but I ask that this information does not spread. My wings mark me as different and would make me a target of bounty hunters, slavers, and collectors.”

“You’re our Jedi,” Rex says. “We’ll protect you. With our lives, if necessary. Protecting you with our silence is easier.”

Obi-Wan takes a steadying breath. He hasn’t revealed his wings like this since Stewjon. He looks around, sees a few soldiers have crowded closer, and he takes two steps back until he has enough space. And then he unfurls his wings. His middle wings stretch out like the vode’s, but his upper and lower wings curve up or down. They’re large, one might even call them unwieldy. Obi-Wan flutters them gently to make the blue shimmer and shine.

“Woah,” Fives breathes.

Obi-Wan flutters them again, because he’s fighting his instinct to curl them tightly around himself or to fold them back into himself. “My wings are different from yours, but not as different as you might think. I can also fly. I can deflect blaster bolts and I can shield. I would prefer if you didn’t touch them.”

“Where did they come from?” Echo asks. “You don’t have a wingpack.”

“They are a part of me,” Obi-Wan answers, because he doesn’t know how much they know about the Force, and he isn’t up to the detailed explanation. “I can fold them away when they’re unneeded. It’s how I’ve kept them secret.” He folds them back in now in demonstration.

“If you’re going to accompany us on Geonosis, I’d like to run some drills,” Rex says.

Obi-Wan looks longingly at the datapad in Cody’s arm before he nods. “That would be the wise choice. My primary weapons are the Force and my lightsabers, but I do know how to use a blaster.”

“What about your wings?” Rex asks.

Maybe, he’ll have to give that explanation after all. “My wings are connected to the Force,” Obi-Wan says. “It’ll be easier to show you.” He manifests his wings against and then brings them close to his body. “Take ten strides toward me. Both platoons, if you would.”

The step closer, cautious, because they know this is a lesson. Once they’re in range, Obi-Wan throws his wings open. The Force pushes both platoons back. If he had put more power behind it, he could have sent them boots over bucket, but this was a demonstration only.

Rex adjusts his helmet. “How’s your mobility?”

With a few powerful flaps, Obi-Wan’s in the air. Under Rex’s careful watch, he dodges, he rolls, he dives. He gives a saber demonstration, allows them to put him through a few different blaster tests. There are some group drills and then Rex calls it.

“Mess hall,” Rex says. He claps Obi-Wan on the shoulder, because Obi-Wan pulled his wings in as soon as they were done.

Rex goes to talk to Alpha-17, and Cody takes his place at Obi-Wan’s side. Cody is still holding the datapad against his chest. “After you eat, I can show you to the officers’ showers. They’ll be sonics, but there will be more privacy than the trooper showers.”

“Thank you,” Obi-Wan says. He is a bit damp from all the exercise earlier.

“It isn’t a long flight to Geonosis, but there are quarters reserved for Jedi if you’d like to rest before we arrive.”

“I’m well rested, but thank you. Alpha-17 said you were genetically engineered and then trained specifically for a war?” Does that mean someone has been planning this confrontation on Geonosis? Would the better thing to do be not to stage a rescue? Part of Obi-Wan rebels at leaving Master Jinn, Padawan Skywalker, and Senator Amidala to die, but a war would claim many more than three lives.

“Yes,” Cody answers. “We were raised for war. Our simulations were against droids, so we assume that is who our primary enemy will be. We were told we would be led by Jedi, but it never made sense.”

“Because Jedi are peacekeepers?”

Cody’s smile is faint, almost nonexistent. “We’re clones of Jango Fett. He taught us his history.”

“Ah. Galidraan. Did he tell you why the sudden change of heart? Why he would want to aid the Jedi when he’s known at the Jedi killer?”

“Payment.” Cody’s lips twist in another almost-smile. “It was a lucrative job.”

They make it to the mess hall, where the vode descend on a meal of bland mush. Obi-Wan shrugs and follows suit. It isn’t the worst thing he’s eaten. No, that honor might go to the hegelbun he had on his first mission with Master Jinn after his year on the run with Satine.

Cody finally hands over the datapad, and Obi-Wan skims the briefings and asks Cody for clarification between bites of mush. As has been implied, Jango Fett cloned himself and then trained an army in secret for the past ten years. The army was supposedly commissioned by Sifo Dyas, who has made yearly progress inquiries, despite being dead.

“The war you’ve been trained for, I believe it is supposed to start on Geonosis,” Obi-Wan says. “Master Yoda told me that Master Jinn traced Jango Fett to Kamino and then Fett led Master Jinn to Geonosis. This is a trap. A very large trap.” Obi-Wan rubs his beard. “Master Jinn always said to spring a trap, but this could have far-reaching consequences.”

“We were created years in advance, so I agree that the war is planned,” Cody says. “If you don’t spark it on Geonosis, it won’t prevent the war. There will simply be a different catalyst and three people important to you will be dead.” At Obi-Wan’s look, Cody gestures to the datapad. “We had access to the Temple records. Jedi Master Qui-Gon Jinn trained you. You assisted then Queen Amidala in freeing her planet from a Trade Federation invasion. And Anakin Skywalker is your…jetii’vod.”

“Lineage brother,” Obi-Wan says, “but yes. Your information was thorough.” He rubs his face with both his hands now. “Were you also trained as a master strategist and tactician?”

“Yes.”

“And you think the right call is to spark the war here?”

“I think the war is inevitable. At least this way, you can save three, and we have some control. No doubt, the architect of the war wants us off-balance from the beginning. But if we know it’s a trap, we’ll pay attention.”

“It’s still a rescue mission first,” Obi-Wan says. “If this does mean war, we won’t make the Republic the villains by orbital bombing Geonosis.”

“Food, sonic, and then we can discuss rescue planning with Alpha-17 and Rex,” Cody says.

“I’ll need to grab fresh clothes from my ship.”

“You could wear trooper blacks,” Cody says. “And at least partial armor. If you don’t use your lightsabers, you might not be outed as a winged Jedi.”

“I’ll stick with what I’m used to. If this is war, and if the Jedi do fight, I’ll consider a change.” Obi-Wan looks down at the datapad again. “Can you explain what it means here by designations?”

Cody grimaces but he does explain.

Obi-Wan wishes he hadn’t asked.

Chapter 2

Chapter Text

They arrive in orbit, and Obi-Wan follows Captain Rex to one of the docking bays where the larger transports are stored. Both platoons with wingpacks board. There is already a pilot and crew on board, and they offer salutes before everyone straps in. Obi-Wan has never been on a mission like this. He has a staggering amount of back-up and yet, he’s the only Jedi.

Or, he’ll be the only Jedi until they can free Master Jinn and Anakin. He doubts they’ll have their lightsabers on them, but Obi-Wan has two and he can lend them if they’re desperate. And once they’re unchained, they’ll have access to the Force. He made sure to tell Captain Rex that they should have an extra blaster or two for Senator Amidala. Obi-Wan remembers how good a shot she was on Naboo. He bets she’s only improved in the past ten years.

Obi-Wan has a comm that’s patched into the vode frequency. Alpha-17 and Cody will be on the bridge of The Resolute with Admiral Kal’ika, prepared to give help if it’s needed. Hopefully, it won’t be.

Their transport carries them through the atmosphere and dips down toward the arena. The arena was built against a large cliffside which provides some cover. Obi-Wan can only hope it’ll be enough.

“Creatures have been let loose,” Mischief calls.

“Landing ramp is descending,” their pilot calls. “Good luck!”

Captain Rex leads them out, a running start before he dives off the landing ramp. It’s only Firebird’s platoon, with Rex and Obi-Wan with them. Mo and Bowie’s squads are on retrieval, with Obi-Wan on point. Rex is leading the other two squads on distraction.

Obi-Wan dives, wind whipping by him, his wings tucked close as he plummets. He pulls up before he slams into the platform their targets have been chained to. Master Jinn and Anakin are both still chained to a tall pole, but Senator Amidala is standing on top of hers. Bowie pulls a vibroblade and cuts through her chains and then hands her a blaster as the Geonosians, realizing something is wrong, start going for their own weapons.

Obi-Wan cuts through Master Jinn and Anakin’s chains with one of his sabers. Crow drops in, grabs Anakin and then beats his wings to lift them up and out of the arena. Obi-Wan grabs Qui-Gon and then does the same.

As the three with passengers head for the rendezvous, the rest of the vode dip in and out, drawing fire but only returning fire with stunbolts.

“f*ck!” Rex shouts, his voice cracking over the comms. “The Prime is here.”

One figure with a jetpack rises into the air.

“Does he think he can beat us?” Mischief asks.

Master Jinn taps Obi-Wan’s hand and then points. Obi-Wan nods and then says, “Master Jinn pointed out his ship, a Firespray-31. Would an explosion distract him?”

“Negative,” Rex says. “There might be a child on that ship. We can’t fire.”

“Alright,” Obi-Wan says. “Someone get ready to catch Master Jinn. Hook, where are you?”

“Right below you. Drop when ready.”

Obi-Wan sends an apology through the Force and then drops Master Jinn. His shout is swallowed by the wind. Obi-Wan lingers long enough to make sure Hook caught him before he turns his attention to Jango Fett.

Fett’s aim is good, even moving while shooting other moving targets. More than one vod is being carried after taking a blaster bolt from their genetic template. Obi-Wan flaps his wings to get himself some distance and then he tucks his wings in and hurtles toward the Mandalorian. Fett looks up in time for Obi-Wan to slam into him. It hurts, slamming into beskar’gam at full speed, and Obi-Wan loses his breath on a wave of pain. But Fett loses his focus, and now they both spiral toward the ground.

Obi-Wan grabs the blaster out of Fett’s hand and tosses it away. And then he pushes off of the other man and takes to the air again. He’s ten feet above Fett when Fett throws out his whipcord. It wraps around Obi-Wan’s ankle and catches. Obi-Wan hisses as the wire bites into his skin.

Using the Force, Obi-Wan can lift Fett with him so he doesn’t lose his own foot, but he’s still connected to Fett. The bounty hunter draws his spare blaster. And then someone dive bombs them. At the last second, a blade whips out and slices through the cord.

“Come on, Kenobi!” Sinker leads Obi-Wan away from the arena just as the Geonosians get their cannons powered up. Obi-Wan has to roll out of the way of heavy fire a few times, but he makes it to their transport relatively unscathed.

He lands hard in the cargo bay and curses as his shoulder takes the brunt of it. He tucks his wings inside as he rolls. He comes to a stop at a pair of soft boots, not the white plastoid he was expecting. He looks up to see Senator Amidala looking down at him.

“Ah, Senator Amidala,” Obi-Wan greets. He grits his teeth against the throbbing pain in his shoulder. His entire front aches thanks to his earlier collision with Fett. “You look as radiant as ever.”

Her smile is beautiful, even upside down. “Thank you, Knight Kenobi. Who are your friends?”

“You’re bleeding,” Master Jinn says. He kneels at Obi-Wan’s side and pushes his pants up until he reveals the angry red circle around his ankle. “Is there a medkit onboard?”

“Really?” Obi-Wan asks. This is the first time they’ve seen each other since Naboo. Obi-Wan was knighted while Qui-Gon was still recovering in the Halls of Healing. Obi-Wan left for Stewjon and after a brief stop at the Temple, he departed for a series of missions on the Outer Rim.

“Should I thank you for the rescue?” Qui-Gon asks. “It was much more successful than Anakin’s attempt.”

“Hey,” Anakin says, but the protest is half-hearted at best. He hovers at Senator Amidala’s side, something more than concern in his gaze. He offers Obi-Wan a smile. “Hey Obi. Long time, no see.”

“Either you’re taller than I remember, or this is an exceptionally good angle for you,” Obi-Wan says. He hisses in relief as Qui-Gon wraps a bacta bandage around his ankle.

Anakin laughs. “It’s both. I’m not a kid anymore.”

“It hasn’t been that long. You still aren’t even twenty,” Obi-Wan says. He glances at Qui-Gon to confirm.

“Nineteen,” Qui-Gon says.

Captain Rex takes off his helmet as he surveys their group. “Alpha-17 says no one is pursuing us. We should make it to The Resolute without incident. Master Jinn, Alpha-17 would like me to pass on a message.”

Qui-Gon drags a hand down his face. “And that would be?”

With an impressively straight face, Rex says, “I told you so.”

Anakin cracks first, laughing as Qui-Gon sighs. Senator Amidala looks between them, confused, before she sits gratefully on one of the seats that unfolds from the side of the cargo bay. Zippy sits next to her and opens a medkit.

“I can’t believe you dive bombed the Prime,” Line says as he kneels on Obi-Wan’s other side.

“You what?” Qui-Gon asks. His hands hover over Obi-Wan’s chest. Thankfully, he doesn’t touch. “You slammed into a being who was wearing full beskar? Are your ribs broken?”

“I’m not that fragile,” Obi-Wan snaps. He winces and as an apology, he directs Qui-Gon’s attention to his shoulder. “Landed on it when I flew in here.”

“Is no one else going to comment on the fact that Obi-Wan totally has wings?” Anakin asks. “Are those new? Did you commune with a wellspring or something? Can I grow wings?”

“They’re bigger than I remember,” Qui-Gon says. “And I think there are more of them.”

“You cannot grow wings,” Obi-Wan tells Anakin. “They’re a biological quirk of my species. And yes, Master Jinn, they are larger and there are more of them. I spent some time on my home world after Naboo. Anakin isn’t the only one who has grown in the past decade.”

At the mention of Naboo, the cargo bay grows nearly silent, tension choking out conversation. Obi-Wan pushes himself into a sitting position and groans as his entire front half protests the movement. He slaps away three different sets of helping hands.

“Shmi says hello,” Obi-Wan tells Anakin. “I saw her before I was called in as back-up. She says you should comm her more often. Also, you’re going to have a sister in a month or so.”

“What?” Anakin drops to Obi-Wan’s side. “A sister? My mom is pregnant?”

“Yes and yes. Owen’s pretending he’s mad about it, but he’s over the moon. I think mostly he’s annoyed, because people keep hinting it’ll be good practice for him so he and Beru will be ready when they start having kids. Owen and Beru also say hi.”

“I—” Anakin grips Obi-Wan’s hands, too hard, Obi-Wan’s bones grind painfully. “Are you sure? I was having visions of a Tusken raid.”

“A misunderstanding,” Obi-Wan says. “I helped mediate. Hopefully taught your family enough Tusken sign that they’ll be able to communicate and avoid any similar misunderstandings in the future. Especially since meetings open and close with drinking black melon milk and that sh*t is nasty.”

“You—” Anakin throws his arms around Obi-Wan and, again, squeezes too tightly. “Thank you! Thank you, thank you, thank you. I was so worried. I thought she was going to die. I tried not to focus on my anxieties, to remain in the moment, but if something had happened to her…”

“She’s okay,” Obi-Wan says.

“Ease up, padawan,” Qui-Gon says and Anakin stops squeezing Obi-Wan. “Senator Amidala, do you have any injuries that need medical attention?”

“Just a few cuts and scrapes, and this gentleman has assisted me.”

Zippy looks alarmed at being called a gentleman.

“She’s a politician,” Obi-Wan says. “That’s a polite way of saying she doesn’t know your name.”

“Oh.” Zippy exhales on a rush. “Zippy, ma’am.”

“You can call me Padmé,” she tells him. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Zippy.”

“You can call her Senator Amidala,” Rex says in a tone that brooks no argument. “I’m Captain Rex, ma’am. Once we’re onboard The Resolute, we’ll reach out to Jedi High Command for next steps. You’ll be safe under our protection.”

Senator Amidala is a smart woman. She looks from Captain Rex’s face to Zippy’s and her lips press into a thin line. “Captain Rex, did you say? You’re a military force. And what is the Jedi High Command?”

“I’m sure he meant the Jedi Council,” Qui-Gon says smoothly. “Once we’re in contact with Yoda, we’ll know more. Until then, you’ll have to remain curious.”

“These men have similar faces,” Padmé says. “And Anakin and I discovered droid factories on Geonosis. Are you part of an army, Captain Rex? Was Geonosis producing an army?”

“You’re too smart for the Senate,” Obi-Wan tells her. And then he looks over at Rex. The troubled look on his face means he heard what Padmé said about a droid army. He must know what Cody knows. The clone army was made to counter a droid army. This is real. They are on the cusp of a galactic war.

Padmé’s questions grow more and more pointed as no one answers them. By the time they dock on The Resolute, she’s resorted to weaponized silence. Even Anakin keeps his distance, wary of her and the frosty look in her eyes.

They’re met in the docking bay by Alpha-17 and Cody. Over the intercom, they’re warned to brace for a hyperspace jump. Once they’ve jumped, Alpha-17 looks the group over. “Med-bay for everyone who needs attention. Rex and Jedi, with me for debrief. We’re making a short jump and then contacting High Command for our next orders.”

“You!” Padmé points a finger at Alpha-17. “You seem like someone who knows what’s going on. I’m part of this debrief as well.”

“I don’t take my orders from the Senate,” Alpha-17 says. He looks over Padmé’s outfit, where it’s torn in places, where she has a few visible scrapes and bruises. “Lieutenant Firebird, Lieutenant Hawke, please escort Senator Amidala to the med-bay to make sure she wasn’t seriously injured during her capture and escape.”

Padmé’s mouth drops in outrage, but she must recognize she’s out-manned, because she snaps her mouth shut and then stomps furiously after both lieutenants.

“Obi-Wan also requires medical attention,” Qui-Gon says.

“I’m fine,” Obi-Wan says, even though each breath he takes causes a flash of pain when his chest expands.

“I’ll have Fizz meet us on the bridge,” Alpha-17 says. He taps his comm to deliver the message.

Cody accompanies them to the bridge where Admiral Kal’ika greets them and tells them they’ll be out of hyperspace soon.

Fizz arrives with a portable med-station. He takes one look at the careful way Obi-Wan is breathing and scowls. “What did you do?”

“Body-slammed the Prime,” Rex answers casually.

The bridge comes to a standstill.

“You did what?” Kal’ika asks, gleeful, like the first time Obi-Wan heard his reserved master swear.

Rex smirks at the equally interested gleam in Alpha-17’s eyes. “You can’t have him. Specialized Jedi for a specialized unit.”

Cody clears his throat, reminding them all to be professionals.

“Did the beskar’gam bruise?” Fizz asks. He pulls out a handheld scanner.

“Deep bruising or light fracture,” Qui-Gon guesses. He is unfazed by Obi-Wan’s scowl. “You might want to put a note in Obi-Wan’s medical file; handle with care. It’s already in his Temple file.”

“Handle with care?” Anakin asks, some of Kal’ika’s glee evident in his voice now.

“Yes, yes.” Obi-Wan sighs. He’s already heard all the jokes. “You can ask Quinlan about the year he spent trying to plaster stickers on me without my noticing.”

“Your wings are natural for your species,” Fizz says, understanding. “Bone density is lower than a typical humanoid?”

“Lower bone density and lower expected weight,” Obi-Wan answers. “It’s not quite as extreme as some avian species, but I do have to be light enough for my wings to support me.”

“Did your wings take any damage in the fight?” Fizz asks.

“My wings are fine.” If Obi-Wan’s voice is clipped, it’s because his wings don’t like being stuffed inside his crude matter suit. They want to be free. “And if they aren’t, there’s nothing a medic can do for them. They’re self-healing.”

“Oh?” Qui-Gon asks.

“They’re manifestations of the Force,” Obi-Wan answers, because Qui-Gon has a chance at understanding. “If my…feathers get ruffled, I smooth them through meditation.”

“Fascinating.”

“Yes, well.” Obi-Wan shifts from one foot to the other. He doesn’t much fancy being studied or examined.

Fizz manages to get Obi-Wan bare from the waist up, and he’s applying a cool layer of bacta to Obi-Wan’s chest when the call to the Council goes through. Which means Obi-Wan greets the Jedi Council with his bare chest.

Mace smirks at him and Obi-Wan would make a rude gesture if he didn’t think he’d be scolded for it.

“Our operation was successful,” Alpha-17 says. “Master Jinn and Padawan Skywalker were recovered and are here.” He gestures to them. “Senator Amidala is currently in the med-bay. Is our destination Kamino or Coruscant?”

“Kamino,” Mace answers. “We have a large contingent of Jedi enroute to meet you there so we can discuss next steps. The Geonosians are claiming that the Republic interfered with their right to justice.”

“It’s worse than that,” Qui-Gon says. “They are building droids on Geonosis. More advanced than the ones on Naboo but with the same purpose. Dooku told me he is working with the Trade Federation. They’ve amassed an army. Of course, he also claimed Jango Fett wasn’t on Geonosis, which is false, as Obi-Wan can attest to.”

“Jango Fett and Dooku working together?” Mace frowns. “That’s an unlikely partnership.”

Qui-Gon shrugs. “I don’t know if he put out the bounty on Senator Amidala as a favor to his new Trade Federation friends, but I am confident that Dooku is the one who hired Fett for the job.”

“Fett’s playing both sides of the war?” Plo Koon asks.

Alpha-17 scoffs. “The Prime cares about two things; revenge against the Jedi and Boba. He has enough credits from the Kamino job that he didn’t take the hit on the senator for money. Which means it somehow ties in with his revenge against the Jedi.”

“It lured the Jedi to Geonosis for the inciting event of the war,” Cody says. He doesn’t flinch at the sudden attention on him.

“There’s more,” Qui-Gon says. “Dooku told me the Republic is under the control of the Dark Lord of the Sith. He was trying to sway me to his side, but he didn’t sound like he was lying. He created the Separatist movement to counter the Republic, yes, but also to escape the control of the Sith.”

“f*ck,” Obi-Wan says. He sways in Fizz’s hold. He and Qui-Gon barely defeated a Sith apprentice together ten years ago. A Sith Lord…if he’s already wormed his way into the heart of the Republic…f*ck.

“Dooku was your jetii’buir?” Cody asks Qui-Gon.

“Yes. He withdrew from everyone after Galidraan and then after Komari left the Order, he was…unsettled. But leaving the Order himself? Founding the Separatist movement in order to leave the Republic? That’s extreme.”

“Is it?” Obi-Wan asks. He never met Dooku, because Qui-Gon wanted nothing to do with him. But he’s been able to sketch an image of him based on what he knows of Qui-Gon. “He believes he is right. More than the Council, more than the Republic, especially after Galidraan. He is his own sole authority. If he believed he had a better alternative to the Jedi or even the Republic, wouldn’t he pursue it?”

“Confident, my padawan always was,” Yoda says. “Arrogant, he has become.”

“We will mediate on this on our flight to Kamino,” Mace says. He looks at troubled as Obi-Wan feels. “I suggest you do that same. We’ll speak more once we’re together. Do not tell Senator Amidala what you have told us. We will decide how we approach the Senate in our meeting.”

“May the Force be with you,” Plo Koon says.

“And also with you,” Obi-Wan, Qui-Gon, and Anakin murmur in unison.

The comm ends.

“Prepare the jump to Kamino,” Alpha-17 tells navigation.

“Who’s Boba?” Obi-Wan asks as he pulls his tunics back into place. “You said Fett cares about revenge and Boba.”

Unease, anger, and a deeply embedded bitterness roil in the Force before Cody answers. “Boba Fett was part of the Prime’s payment for being the genetic template. He is an unaltered clone. He is the Prime’s son.”

Anakin stalks to the far side of the bridge, as if receiving a human being as payment is too close to slavery for him. Obi-Wan’s mind latches onto a different detail. “Unaltered?”

“Genetically engineered,” Cody reminds him. “The Kaminoans enhanced the genetic template in many ways.”

“Boba gets to age normally,” Rex says. He crosses his arms over his chest. “The rest of us have accelerated aging. It was the only way to make sure we were ready for war within the timeframe.”

“That is—” Obi-Wan can’t think of a word to encapsulate it.

“A severe sentients’ rights violation,” Qui-Gon says.

“Ah, but we aren’t classified as sentients,” Alpha-17 says. He bares his teeth in a smile.

Around Anakin, the Force crackles and burns. Qui-Gon rushes to his side, talking in a soothing voice, trying to ease the worst of his fury. Obi-Wan can’t help but flinch from the rage that radiates from him. Anakin had been uncontrolled emotion as a child, which was to be expected. He’s grown in strength and power since childhood, also expected. But for that kind of anger to be so close to the surface?

Obi-Wan gives his fears and worries to the Force. Qui-Gon is Anakin’s master. He is responsible for Anakin’s training. Obi-Wan looks over Alpha-17. “You are different from Rex and Cody and the others. More Kaminoan alterations?”

Alpha-17’s expression shifts into something close to pride. “Yes. They were enthusiastic in their first batches. The Alphas and the Nulls were made to the Prime but better. He objected.”

“We’re still better,” Rex says.

“He got pissed the first time he shared a shower with the Alphas,” Kal’ika says. He laughs and dodges Alpha-17’s swipe. “What? Your dick is bigger. We compared Thirteen’s with Fox’s.”

“Is that why Fox is a bitter bastard?” one of vode at navigation asks.

“Commander Fox,” Cody says, emphasizing his rank, “is a vod.”

“And has small dick syndrome,” someone mutters.

“Alphas and Nulls?” Obi-Wan asks, because he knows the worth of selective hearing.

“Kal Skirata took the Nulls with him when he skipped out on Kamino,” Alpha-17 says. “And there aren’t many Alphas left. The Kaminoans hadn’t perfected their process.”

“Are you in danger?” Obi-Wan asks.

“I’m a survivor,” Alpha-17 says.

“I’m monitoring his health closely,” Fizz says. “But we’re difficult to kill. We have increased strength, stamina, our reflexes are faster. Generally, what doesn’t kill us outright can be recovered from. There are vode with other enhancements. The SCUBA units have increased lung capacity. Stealth units have night vision.”

“CCs have an extra helping of asshole.”

Cody doesn’t bother looking for the culprit. He tells Obi-Wan, “CCs are the Command Class.”

“And if my bridge officers continue to show an appalling lack of discipline, I’ll bust them all back to shiny status and get myself a proper bridge crew,” Kal’ika says.

Obi-Wan knows better than to get in the middle of that. “I’m going to take Master Windu’s advice and meditate. I’ll be on my ship if anyone needs me.”

“We have Jedi quarters,” Cody says.

“Only two beds,” Rex points out with a glance at Qui-Gon and Anakin.

“My ship has been my home for the past several years,” Obi-Wan says, hoping to soothe any hurt feelings. “It is more than enough for what I need.”

“What about the Temple?” Cody asks.

It’s enough to draw Qui-Gon’s attention away from Anakin. Obi-Wan doesn’t want to soothe the vode’s feelings by stepping on Qui-Gon’s.

“It’s the Jedi’s base of operations,” Cody continues. “but your file shows you only returned once after the Invasion of Naboo.”

“Your records are very thorough,” Obi-Wan says.

“We were made for the Jedi. We wanted as much information as was available. According to the Prime, the Jedi will be our generals and commanders.”

General Kenobi, we need back-up in sector four!

General Kenobi, I’ve been spotted. Help me, ple—

General Kenobi!

General!

Obi-Wan rips himself out of his memories. He stumbles backward and catches himself on a console. Cody reaches a hand out, but he retracts it at the look on Obi-Wan’s face.

“We aren’t your generals,” Obi-Wan says. His voice sounds scraped out of him, raw, like he inhaled too much smoke from one of the Melida’s bombs. He rubs his throat, feels the thin scars from Bandomeer and squeezes his eyes shut. “You said the Prime had two motivations; revenge and Boba. Making the Jedi your commanding officers would destroy us. Honestly, it would destroy you too. We aren’t made for that kind of command anymore. Not since the Ruusan Reformation.”

“The Ruusan Reformation?” Qui-Gon asks. “I wasn’t aware that was an area of interest for you.”

Obi-Wan’s smile is more like a grimace. “A self-study project during my probation.”

“Ah,” Qui-Gon says.

“Probation?” Anakin asks. “You were censured? When?”

Obi-Wan glances at Cody. “Do you know?”

“You were fourteen-standard,” Cody answers. “Obi-Wan Kenobi had a six-month probationary period following the return from Melida/Daan. At the end of the six-months, he was reinstated as a padawan of the Jedi Order.” It sounds as if he’s reciting from Obi-Wan’s official record. He probably is.

“Reinstated?” Anakin looks to Qui-Gon now. “You…you repudiated him?”

“The other way around,” Obi-Wan says softly, before Qui-Gon can answer. “I rejected Master Jinn and ceased being part of the Jedi Order for a period of six months. I’m sure it’s why the Council made my probationary period the same length. So, I could reflect on my choices and which life I would prefer.”

“There is very little information on Melida/Daan,” Cody says. “It is noted as being a planet consumed by war until Jedi Master Qui-Gon Jinn arrived and negotiated peace between the warring factions, the Melida and the Daan. Since that day, the planet has been known by its new name, Melidaan.”

Agitated, Obi-Wan moves until he has enough space to unfurl his wings. He keeps them invisible, but it feels good to stretch them fully. Even though he’s on a spaceship, it settles something deep and primal in him to know he has the means to escape.

“Did Jedi Master Qui-Gon Jinn negotiate peace before or after leaving you on the planet for six months?” Rex asks, something sharp in his tone. He twists Qui-Gon’s title into something disrespectful.

“After,” Qui-Gon answers. Regret and guilt ooze into the Force.

“I left you for a girl, and you left me for a woman,” Obi-Wan says.

“Master Tahl?” Anakin asks quietly.

Obi-Wan’s curious what Qui-Gon has told Anakin about Master Tahl. Did he tell Anakin that his love for Master Tahl caused him to prioritize her life over Obi-Wan’s and planet full of children who needed help? Did he tell Anakin that he almost Fell to the darkside when she died? Did he use her a cautionary tale when talking to Anakin about Anakin’s obvious feelings for Senator Amidala? Does he light a candle with Anakin in remembrance each year? Obi-Wan would light a candle separately from Qui-Gon, afraid that Qui-Gon would tell Obi-Wan he wasn’t allowed to mourn her.

“There was a third faction,” Obi-Wan says. He doesn’t want to do this, but he owes it to these men to speak to this. He cannot let the Jedi be commanding officers in this war. “The Melida, the Daan, and the Young.”

Rex swears, harsh and low.

“A daughter of the Melida and a son of the Daan met in a crumbling city and pledged to do better. Not for the Melida, not for the Daan, but for the children, for those who didn’t have a choice, because they were born into the conflict. I stayed to fight with them.”

Obi-Wan never talked to Qui-Gon about Melida/Daan. He sent the request for Jedi aid after Cerasi was killed and the Young turned on him, having lost faith. He asked to return to the Temple with Qui-Gon, because there was no place for him on Melidaan. But once they were back at the Temple, Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon silently, mutually resolved to put the entire incident behind them.

Oh, it colored every interaction for the rest of Obi-Wan’s apprenticeship, but they never spoke of it. When Qui-Gon found Obi-Wan and Satine on the run, there was suspicion in his gaze, as if he was wondering if Obi-Wan would leave the Order for this girl as well. When Obi-Wan challenged any decision Qui-Gon had made, Qui-Gon would glance at Obi-Wan’s lightsaber as if wondering whether Obi-Wan would draw on him again.

“In short order, I was General Kenobi,” Obi-Wan says.

“You were fourteen,” Alpha-17 says, and his gaze is narrowed, not angry but assessing.

“Thirteen but my life day was not far off,” Obi-Wan corrects. “Jedi are attuned to the Force, and the Force flows through everything. I have always been especially empathetic. I forged bonds with my—” Obi-Wan can’t bring himself to say troops or soldiers. “They were younger than I was. I felt it when they died.” He clears his throat and tries to ignore the horror filling the bridge. “It was a small-scale war. You say your battalions number in the hundreds. If you make the Jedi your commanding officers, they will feel your deaths. And you will be asking them to make decisions that will send more of you to your deaths. At best, it will freeze them, and that indecision will lead to more death. At worst, they will Fall. Almost a thousand years ago, the Jedi were militarized, but we have lost those skills.”

“Prior to the Ruusan Reformation,” Cody says, redirecting the conversation to safer ground. Obi-Wan appreciates it more than he can say.

“Yes. Prior to the Ruusan Reformation, the Jedi were militarized. But then-Chancellor Tarsus Valorum enacted the reformations that disbanded the Army of Light. The Republic was afraid that the Jedi Order would turn conqueror and so the Jedi gave up their armor, their military ranks, and disbanded their army and their navy. They even agreed to be subject to the supervision and oversight of the Chancellor and the Judicial Department. It is also when Jedi began training children from birth and centralized their training on Coruscant, the idea being that knowledge would be controlled and from an early age to prevent any untrained Force users from stumbling upon Sith knowledge.”

“Is that why everyone put up such a stink about my late arrival?” Anakin asks. “Because of rules from almost a thousand years ago?”

“Jedi used to wear armor?” Alpha-17 asks. He’s already studying Obi-Wan as if taking his measurements.

“If you try to militarize the Jedi, those who know their history will balk, and with good reason. Knowing politicians, the Chancellor might even make a bid to reinstate the position of Supreme Chancellor.”

“Palpatine would never do that,” Anakin says. “He’s my friend. He wants to use his power to help people.”

“Regardless of who the individual is, Supreme Chancellor is too much power for any one being,” Obi-Wan says, taking the diplomatic route.

“And it’s pretentious as f*ck,” Rex says. He glowers at Cody’s look. “What? A verd can’t use the word pretentious and swear in the same sentence? I have layers, Commander Cody.”

“Like an onion,” Anakin says.

“What’s an onion?” Rex asks.

“I think I read about those once,” Kal’ika says. “You grow them in the ground?”

Anakin opens his mouth and then closes it. “I can’t tell if you’re messing with me or not.” He looks to Qui-Gon. “Are they messing with me?”

Qui-Gon doesn’t answer. He’s still looking at Obi-Wan, ancient grief in the lines of his face. Obi-Wan doesn’t want to feel the heavy press of Qui-Gon’s guilt. And he doesn’t want to have to drudge up forgiveness for him, either.

Rex makes a show of checking his wrist comm. “If we’re finished with the debrief, Alpha-17, my company requests my return along with Knight Kenobi’s. Our first successful mission deserves a celebration.”

“No alcohol,” Alpha-17 says.

“Of course not,” Rex says with an impressively straight face, given that Obi-Wan can tell he’s lying. “We left straight from Kamino for Geonosis. Where would we have acquired any?”

Alpha-17’s lips twitch as if he’s trying not to smile. “You’re dismissed, Captain Rex. You are as well, Knight Kenobi.”

Obi-Wan arches his eyebrows.

Alpha-17 allows himself to smile now. “If you’re not my commanding officer, then I am yours. Enjoy the downtime with Winged Company. You earned it.”

Obi-Wan feels a mixture of relief and shame and gratitude that is too complicated to unravel. He leaves with Rex and shoves the whole bundle of emotions into the Force.

Chapter 3

Chapter Text

They take transports from The Resolute down to Kamino. Obi-Wan catches Padmé’s protests as she’s escorted to the ‘diplomat suites’, which both Padmé and Obi-Wan know is code for ‘out of the way’. Obi-Wan can’t launch a rescue attempt for her, because he’s sternly escorted to one of Kamino’s many medical facilities.

Fizz insists on a full work-up, and Cody and Rex both hover nearby and talk in low tones about customized armor. Obi-Wan’s protests that he doesn’t need armor and Fizz doesn’t need a full medical profile on him fall on deaf ears. While Obi-Wan is determined not to be pulled into this war, the vode seem to think that it’s inevitable.

Obi-Wan is kept busy and away from both Qui-Gon and Anakin as well as Padmé until the Jedi transport arrives. Cody left to greet the Jedi, which means it’s Rex who escorts Obi-Wan to the meeting room. A circle of chairs has been set up to mimic the Jedi Council, with holo-projectors in the seats of councilors who aren’t on Kamino.

There is one chair without a councilor or holoprojector. Mace looks far too smug as he gestures Obi-Wan toward the open seat.

“No,” Obi-Wan says.

“Congratulations, Master Kenobi,” Mace says, and he allows his pleasure, and his pride, to leak into the Force and surround Obi-Wan in what feels more like a trap than a hug. “You have been nominated to a seat on the Jedi Council.”

“Alternative voices, we need,” Master Yoda says from his perch on his own chair.

There is no graceful way to get out of this. In fact, Obi-Wan doesn’t think there’s any way out of this, grace, or no grace. He bows deeply to the rest of the Council and then takes the seat between Shaak Ti and Agen Kolar.

It isn’t the same high-backed chairs he’s used to seeing in the Council Chambers at the Temple, but it’s still a chair with a back. Even if Obi-Wan sits at the very edge of it, he doesn’t have the space for his wings. After he’s sat long enough to hopefully show his surrender, he stands and circles the back of his chair. He rests his arms on the back of it and allows his wings to unfurl, even if he keeps them hidden from view.

Shaak Ti gives him a fond smile. “Sitting is difficult for those like us.” She touches the teeth she wears around her neck.

There are chairs for the non-Councilors, but none of them sit. Qui-Gon, Alpha-17, Cody, and Rex all remain standing as they face the Council. Qui-Gon also smirks a little at Obi-Wan, as if he’s amused that Obi-Wan was caught in a position that Qui-Gon has successfully evaded.

It could have been Qui-Gon here. Long ago, in their early stages of Obi-Wan’s apprenticeship. Qui-Gon was offered a Council seat. He would have had to give up Obi-Wan’s training to do it. He chose to keep Obi-Wan. This was after Melida/Daan, after New Apsolon, before Mandalore.

“War is coming,” Mace says.

Alpha-17 shakes his head. “War is here. Geonosis was the catalyst. Senator Amidala has been in contact with her fellow senators. Word of Geonosis spread quickly. The Senate is panicking, and the Republic will follow.”

“You listened to a senator’s private conversations?” Qui-Gon asks with a frown.

“Senator Amidala is a guest on Kamino, which is not in Republic space.” Alpha-17’s expression doesn’t change. “We monitor all conversations. Chancellor Palpatine is from the same planet as Senator Amidala. He was a frequent contact of hers. They spoke of Naboo and the Republic’s slow and inefficient response.”

“He’s pushing for emergency war powers,” Obi-Wan says, coming to the conclusion before Alpha-17 can voice it. He groans. “The Jedi apparently commissioned an army, the Chancellor is going to gather power until he’s the Supreme Chancellor. At this rate, the Banite Sith will have tossed the Rule of Two by the end of the month.”

“That is not a joking matter,” Shaak Ti scolds.

“I’m not joking,” Obi-Wan says. “Has war been officially declared?”

“The Geonosians have given the Republic five days to hand over the three criminals and the ones who rescued them,” Cody reports. “They have implied that if the Republic does not comply, they will be forced to take their justice with force and without a care for collateral damage.”

“Wonderful,” Obi-Wan says.

“Made for this war, you say you were,” Yoda says. He looks over the three vode. “For ten years, you have trained. Which means, for ten years, someone has known war was brewing.”

“Or they were arranging the pieces,” Mace says. “Was Naboo supposed to be a test run? And when the invasion failed, the Trade Federation retreated to build better droids?”

“There is a war at the galaxy’s doorstep,” Alpha-17 says. “One side has an army of droids. The clone troopers were created to be the second army. We were told to expect Jedi command, but Master Kenobi indicated this would be detrimental to the war efforts.”

“Knight Kenobi indicated such,” Obi-Wan says. “I did not speak with the authority of a Master Jedi or Councilor. But I do stand by my position even with my recent promotion. The Jedi are no longer trained for war. To be thrown into it and expected to command would be disastrous.”

“War, I remember,” Master Yoda says, something ancient and sad in his eyes. He lowers his ears as he turns to Obi-Wan. “War, you remember, too. But abandon our responsibility, we cannot.”

“Our Code does not allow us to remain apart from the war,” Mace says. “The Republic won’t allow us to sit it out either. And, as we have been informed, it was one of ours who commissioned this army in secret. No, Master Yoda is correct. We have a responsibility here.”

“And we shouldn’t shirk it,” Obi-Wan says. “If there is to be a war for the galaxy, we will defend and protect as the Force has mandated us to do. But the Jedi have no business leading the war.” He gestures to Alpha-17. “The vode have spent ten years training and preparing for this war. It is the height of arrogance for us to assume we would command better, caught off guard and with no formal education or preparation.”

“The Republic will never allow an army of Mandalorian clones to run freely through the galaxy.” Agen Kolar holds a hand out to the vode. “I disagree with the Republic here, as I do many places, but the fact remains. They will not allow it, and if the Chancellor is gathering power as quickly as Master Kenobi believes he is, then he will have the authority to enforce his will.”

“Make us figureheads,” Obi-Wan says. It’s his turn to address the vode. “You have reports on the Jedi. You know the basics about us, and I bet part of your training was how to fight alongside Jedi.”

“Are you suggesting the Jedi answer to the GAR?” Mace steeples his fingers.

“Outside contractors,” Alpha-17 says. “Jedi are attached to battalions to appease the Senate, but you don’t have true authority over troops or strategy. When you are willing, you assist, whether it’s strategy, negotiation, or on the battlefield.”

“We keep our Jedi titles,” Obi-Wan says. “And we travel at least in pairs. This is going to be a galactic war. It means a scale none of us have ever experienced. It will be painful, it will be difficult, and we should not isolate ourselves.”

“Speak from experience, you do,” Master Yoda says. “Listen, we shall.”

“We have suggestions on Jedi assignments,” Cody says, which Obi-Wan interprets as, they planned for how to optimize the Jedi presence. It makes him glad they didn’t try and assert their own authority. No doubt, the vode did better than the Jedi would have, especially since the vode had time to plan and prepare. “There will be some adjustment to accommodate multiple Jedi. Is this the group to make the adjustments with or will there be a subcommittee?”

“Subcommittee with a presentation in front of the whole Council,” Mace says. “Shaak Ti, Obi-Wan, and Plo Koon, I want you on it. Commander Cody, I trust your judgement on—” Mace pauses. “I’m sorry, you refer to yourselves as vode?”

“Vode,” Cody says and enunciates carefully.

“It’s Mando’a,” Obi-Wan tells Mace.

Mace nods. “Commander Cody, I trust your judgement on which vode should be included. Yoda and Agen Kolar, I want you to coordinate with Alpha-17 and create a strategy subcommittee. If we have five days before war begins, let’s see if we can anticipate what the first battlefield will be. Healer Che is here along with a full team of trained healers. I’d like them to meet with as many—” “Medics,” Cody says. “—medics as they can for an information exchange.”

Obi-Wan settles as Mace breaks up the Council and the other Jedi they brought with them into groups to work with the vode. Yes, this war is on a scale Obi-Wan can’t comprehend and even these subcommittees won’t be enough to cover everything, but it’s a start. It keeps Obi-Wan from being completely overwhelmed. He doesn’t have to worry about supply lines or hyperspace lanes or medical anything.

Right now, all he has to worry about is his own subcommittee. His group meets in a smaller meeting room. There’s a table with a holoprojector at the center of it. Cody sits at the head of the table with various datapads spread out around him. Plo Koon and Shaak Ti both sit as well. Obi-Wan stands behind his chair again. He pulls his wings in when they’re joined by five vode and then he stretches them out again once the vode are seated.

“Commander Wolffe, Commander Monnk, Alpha-79, Medic Fizz, and 99.”

“Kix will fill me on the medic meeting,” Fizz says before anyone can ask. “But it’s important for me to be here. I have a secondary specialization in psychology, especially war trauma.”

“We’re glad to have you,” Shaak Ti says.

Commander Wolffe hasn’t looked away from Plo Koon since they entered. “General Koon.”

“Master Koon or Councilor Koon, please,” Plo says. “Unless I can persuade you to call me Plo.”

“The Jedi are outside contractors, not commanding officers,” Cody says to start their meeting. “This is at Councilor Kenobi’s recommendation. Also, at his recommendation, Jedi should not be alone. The army will be under clone command with Jedi attached to battalions. We need to reorganize based on this new information.”

Wolffe whistles.

“We’re expecting the first true attack of the war in five days,” Cody says. “I would like this assignment shuffle done in two, so we have time to roll it out and make adjustments before we’re expected to fight.” Cody taps a few buttons and a projection of the battalions and their specialties, if any, appears at the center of the table. “We begin with the specialized battalions. The 104^th attack battalion, under Commander Wolffe will have Councilor Koon attached to it.”

“Oh?” Plo Koon asks. “What is your specialization?”

“We’ve already fitted our star destroyer and its transports to accommodate your natural environment.” Wolffe nods at Plo Koon’s breathing mask.

Surprise and pleasure burst in the Force, a pleasant fragrance. “Thank you,” Plo says.

“Could you please list any Jedi you would work well with?” Cody asks. “We’ll make a note and then return once we’ve done a preliminary run through all the battalions.”

Once Cody notes Plo’s suggestions, and a quick reason for why Plo has selected each Jedi, Cody moves to the next battalion. “Commander Monnk’s battalion is fully trained SCUBA troopers. They trained with Councilor Fisto in mind. He will remain with Monnk.”

They list other aquatic Jedi to possibly join him and then move to the next battalion. It doesn’t take long before they reach the 501^st. Cody looks over at Obi-Wan and then hesitates.

Right. Obi-Wan’s secret that will no longer be a secret now that they’re at war. “The 501^st is the only battalion with troopers who have trained with wingpacks,” Obi-Wan says.

Cody taps and brings up a short clip of the Winged Company training. Shaak Ti leans in to get a better look. Plo Koon studies Obi-Wan as if he’s trying to figure out a puzzle.

With a thought, Obi-Wan drops the invisibility from his wings. They stretch out and proud, their usual blue, but a bit of pink colors them at the sudden stares and attention of the room.

“I would like to volunteer for assignment with the 501^st,” Obi-Wan says.

Cody makes a note.

“Stewjoni?” Shaak Ti asks. She stares but doesn’t make any move to touch, which Obi-Wan appreciates.

“Yes.” Obi-Wan’s wings flutter without any conscious action on his part. “This was one of the Order’s best kept secrets, but it’s only a matter of time before it becomes public knowledge.”

Plo Koon’s gentle presence nudges up against Obi-Wan’s wings. Obi-Wan instinctively shies away from the touch.

“I apologize,” Plo Koon says. “They are beautiful.”

Obi-Wan’s wings flush a light pink, the blue disappearing entirely. With his cheeks burning hot, Obi-Wan’s turns them invisible again. He clears his throat. “I have been a solo knight for the past ten years. I’m not sure there’s a list of Jedi I would work well with, but I also don’t believe there are any I would work poorly with.”

Cody looks up from his datapad. “Even Master Jinn and Padawan Skywalker?”

Plo Koon stops staring at where Obi-Wan’s wings had been, but his curiosity is just as intrusive. Obi-Wan shakes out his wings as if he can shake off the attention. “The vode have extensive information on the Jedi Order, including its members, their lineages, and their assignments.” To Cody, he says. “I am more than capable of working with Master Jinn and Padawan Skywalker. And Master Jinn is the Jedi I have the most experience working alongside.”

Cody makes a note.

They work until they’ve addressed all of the specialized battalions and then they do a sweep through all the ships, because there is a need for a Jedi presence on the star destroyers as well. Once they’re through with that, they break for food and to stretch, and then they power through the rest of the battalions. By the end of the day, they are in a position to begin the next day with making sure there are two or three Jedi associated with each posting.

Obi-Wan’s ship is still up on The Resolute, which means he accepts a sleeping berth in the quarters assigned to the Jedi. Plo Koon has a special room, because Wolffe created one to make sure the breathing masks for him and his vode worked, but there are no accommodations for Obi-Wan. One of the drawbacks to having to keep his wings a secret.

Their quarters come with a large common room and a small study along with the various bedrooms. Obi-Wan takes the mattress from one of the beds and drags it into the office. He clears the desk, sets the mattress on top and sleeps there. He sleeps on his stomach, his wings draping down toward the floor. With the door to the study closed, and locked, no one disturbs him.

#

They are down to the trickiest part of assignments, when moving one Jedi causes a ripple effect that disturbs multiple assignments. Their work is interrupted by a comm that requires their attendance in the makeshift Council Chamber.

Obi-Wan reports alongside the others to find out that the Geonosians, or the Separatist movement on behalf of the Geonosians, have made their first move.

“A thirty ship blockade?” Mace rubs a hand over his head. “That isn’t a reaction, that is a pre-planned response.”

Obi-Wan looks at the image of Christophsis and the little ship markers which make up the blockade around the planet.

“Whoever controls Christophsis, controls the Corellian Run,” Alpha-17 says. “It’s imperative that we take it back and quickly. The Separatists aren’t the only ones who had some advance notice. The Resolute is battle ready.”

“We’ll need more than one ship,” Cody says, already tapping away on his datapad. “And we’ll have to deploy more of the fleet to strategic planets and hyperspace lanes. It will be easier to defend than to try and root out an entrenched enemy. I will be on The Resolute with my battalion and continue to coordinate from there.”

“Marshal Commander Cody of the Third Systems army,” Alpha-17 says with a note of pride.

Cody flicks him an irritated glance. “The Resolute will host its crew as well as the 501^st, the 212^th, and the 442^nd. Jedi are Master Jinn, Padawan Skywalker, Councilor Kenobi, Knight Vetras, and Knight Makkar.”

Things move quickly after that, planning and then deployments. Obi-Wan’s head is still spinning by the time he’s on The Resolute along with the other four Jedi who are assigned to battalions on this ship. Obi-Wan says a brief hello to Nev Vetras, who is one of the pilots who took Garen under their wing back in Obi-Wan and Garen’s padawan days. Kal Makkar is a trandoshan who has spent most of their knighthood doing undercover work in various syndicates and gangs, playing on the stereotypes of their species.

It turns out Obi-Wan and Knight Makkar crossed paths on a few missions without realizing it. Kal grins at Obi-Wan’s surprise and then goes to settle into their quarters. There are two sets of quarters for the Jedi. The two knights take the smaller set, the ones with a cramped study, an even more cramped fresher, and a set of bunkbeds.

The larger quarters are for Qui-Gon and Anakin. They have the relative privacy of two bedrooms, which both Qui-Gon and Anakin look relieved by. Relief quickly turns sour as they realize that there are two bedrooms and only two beds.

“There’s a couch in the entry room,” Anakin says and Obi-Wan gives him credit for making the offer and doesn’t blame him for the frown that suggests he isn’t looking forward to a war spent sleeping on a couch.

“We can bring a cot in,” Scrapheap says. He’s one of the quartermasters, and he followed them to the rooms to make sure they had everything they need. He scowls at the two bedrooms as if they’re to blame for the fact that there are suddenly three Jedi expected to stay here.

“My ship is in the docking bay,” Obi-Wan says. Just looking at these rooms makes him antsy. Even if the Venator-class is a large ship, it’s still a starship that is expected to hold nearly ten thousand beings. Space is its rarest resource.

“There are open bunks,” Scrapheap says, and he looks to Cody now, as if he thinks Cody will scold him for not being ready for an emergency deployment. “And there are even open quarters. It won’t be on the same deck as the other Jedi, but there is space.”

Obi-Wan considers the bunkbeds he saw in the knights’ quarters and then he looks at Anakin and Qui-Gon’s beds again. They’re pressed against the wall, and they’re wider than the bunks but not by much. Obi-Wan spends a moment imagining himself smacking his wings into the wall every night and grimaces.

“My ship is in the docking bay,” Obi-Wan repeats. “There is already space for me. I don’t need additional space.”

“Acceptable as a temporary measure,” Cody says, and he ignores the looks he gets from both Scrapheap and Obi-Wan. “I’ll have a tech come by and wire your ship’s sound system into our intercom so you don’t miss any announcements.” His lips quirk up in a smile. “And so we aren’t in violation of the fire code.”

“Necessities are stocked in the freshers,” Scrapheap says. “Is there anything non-standard that you need?” He looks over at Obi-Wan, his unvoiced question obvious.

“They aren’t proper feathers, I don’t require anything specialized for grooming,” Obi-Wan says.

“I want to do an armor fitting before we reach Christophsis,” Scrapheap says. “For all three of you. We don’t have your Jedi get-up, but we have plenty of extra blacks and underthings if you need them. What’s your weapon situation?”

“Anakin and I both built new lightsabers with the materials the Council brought,” Qui-Gon answers. “I assume our original sabers are either in the possession of the Geonosians or Count Dooku.”

Scrapheap waits and when nothing more is forthcoming, he glances at Cody. “Jedi don’t carry back-up weapons? No blasters? Not even a vibroblade?”

“It depends on the Jedi,” Obi-Wan answers. “As I’ve spent my knighthood keeping a low profile, I often have a complement of weapons on me. But we won’t keep the Jedi’s involvement in the war a secret, which means our primary weapons will be our lightsabers.”

“I’ve already noted to include the Jedi in combat and weapons training,” Cody tells Scrapheap. “I’ll keep you updated on their weapon needs.”

“Um.” Anakin glances at Scrapheap and then at Qui-Gon and then drops his gaze to the ground as if he didn’t mean to speak. He rubs his hands on his arms, and Scrapheap’s gaze hones in on the movement.

“You’re cold,” Scrapheap says. “An extra blanket for your bed and a thick cloak for you to wear onboard.”

“I don’t want to be any trouble,” Anakin says.

“Tatooine,” Cody tells Scrapheap. “Desert upbringing, susceptible to cooler temperatures.”

“How do you know that?” Anakin asks. “I mean, how do you remember it?”

“I know basic facts about Jedi,” Cody says. “I’ve brushed up on the five assigned to The Resolute and I intend to the same for those within the Third Systems Army. I have a very good memory. This is what I was made for.”

Anakin’s anger is a physical thing, lashing out. Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon both wince. “I grew up a slave on Tatooine. Master Jinn found me and freed me. The Jedi will free you as well.” He turns to Qui-Gon and for a moment he looks like the nine-year-old from Obi-Wan’s memories. “We’re going to free them, right?”

“We have a team of Jedi and senators looking into it,” Qui-Gon says. “A lot has happened in the past few days. We should meditate, padawan. Would you like to join us, Kn—Master Kenobi?”

Obi-Wan isn’t sure which is more jolting, hearing Qui-Gon call someone else padawan or hearing Qui-Gon refer to Obi-Wan as his new title. “It’s Obi-Wan to you both,” he says. “And thank you for the offer, but I would like to set my ship to rights before I meditate. You are not the only one to have had an eventful few days.”

Obi-Wan bows deeply to Qui-Gon, more shallowly to Anakin, and then backs out of the room. The hallways of the ship are wide enough for four troopers to walk shoulder-to-shoulder, but they aren’t wide enough for Obi-Wan’s wings. He’s itchy, ready to be on his ship, but he smothers his disappointment when Scrapheap indicates that they should start on his armor fitting now while they have time.

“You are trained for both ground and aerial combat,” Cody says as he accompanies them. He’s typing on his datapad, no doubt sending messages and coordinating the entire Third Systems Army. He doesn’t stumble or walk into anything, even though he doesn’t look where he’s going.

“I am but I prioritize agility in both situations. Armor gets in the way.”

“Did you wear armor during your year on Mandalore?” Cody asks.

It’s Scrapheap that stumbles as he twists to look at Obi-Wan. He isn’t the only one. Several troopers pause in the hallway as if they want to catch Obi-Wan’s answer. He suspects it’ll be all over the star destroyer by next meal.

“Some but it was scavenged, and we were desperate.”

“Do you still have any of it?” Cody asks.

“Let me make a stop at my ship,” Obi-Wan says.

#

Scrapheap’s domain is more crowded than Obi-Wan would have expected, but maybe this is what happens with emergency deployments. He notes that most of the vode who enter come to either take or exchange paint.

“Oh,” Obi-Wan says as he looks from the container of green paint to Cody’s white armor. He places his own armor on Scrapheap’s desk for the quartermaster’s inspection and approval. He has two vambraces, a breastplate that has seen better days, thigh guards, and shin guards. The pieces that come in sets match but other than that, his armor is from different people.

Different bodies. Obi-Wan doesn’t have Quinlan’s gifts, but he’s still wary of his armor and the memories it carries.

“None of this was crafted for you,” Scrapheap says.

“It’s also almost twenty years old.”

Scrapheap scoffs. “This is real Mandalorian armor. It’s built to last.”

“Your mission to Mandalore,” Cody says. He also inspects the armor.

“How much do you know about it?” Obi-Wan asks.

“I know you were on planet and protecting duch*ess Kryze. Master Windu has given us access to the Temple records, so we can see official mission reports. There is a lot to catch up on. Did you know that Master Jinn’s reports sound remarkably like your own?”

Obi-Wan laughs. “He used to sign off on them without reviewing them. By the time I was eighteen, he didn’t even bother with that. I learned to forge his signature.”

“There’s no official report on the Melida/Daan mission,” Cody says. “The notes and observations from the healers and the councilors are classified.”

“I don’t like to talk about it.” Obi-Wan angles himself so he can unfurl his wings. He hides them from sight, but it feels good to stretch them. “The Mandalore report should be a good read. It’s a long one, though. Satine and I spent over a year on the run.”

“Is that when you learned Mando’a?” Cody asks.

“Yes. I haven’t had a lot of opportunity to practice since, but I still remember a lot of it.” Obi-Wan’s smile is a faint thing as he traces the faded paint on his breastplate. “She taught me Mando’a, she helped me scavenge armor, she showed me the tricks to Mandalorian blasters. She’s different now. Though, I suppose I am as well.” Obi-Wan’s wings shimmer for a moment before their color fades again.

“You should wear your armor,” Scrapheap says. “And we can get you any additional pieces you want, probably not beskar, though. This won’t be a short war. It’s best you get used to the protection now.”

Obi-Wan has spent enough time on the Outer Rim to recognize a losing fight. He bows and takes his defeat with grace.

“Do you want any paint?” Scrapheap asks.

Obi-Wan looks at the mismatched armor on the desk. “Do you have any white?” he asks. He isn’t sure what this war will bring. He isn’t sure who he will be at the end of it. He’ll start a blank slate and see who he grows into.

Chapter 4

Chapter Text

When they arrive, they hide themselves behind Leesis, Christophsis’s moon as they determine their approach. Obi-Wan’s armor is white, bright and shiny, but around him the vode are explosions of color.

The color is an indicator of their assignment. Gold for the 212^th, blue for the 501^st, and bright green for the 442^nd. The Resolute’s crew have dark gray markings to match the interior of the star destroyer, but the markings are all lined with a golden orange to add color and pop. The designs are all as unique as the men who wear them.

Cody’s starburst on his breastplate is large and eye-catching. Rex’s jaig eyes are both unique and a sign of his competence. Every member of the Winged Company has feathers painted on their shoulder pauldrons, but they have unique designs and markings on the rest of it to set them apart.

As pleased as the vode are to have this way to express themselves, Anakin is equally pleased. According to Qui-Gon, Anakin is so strong with the Force, that the vode’s Force signatures all jumble together. With the paint, he can now recognize them on sight.

Cody debriefs them once they’re on the starboard bridge. Before the blockade was firmly established, a few Republic ships slipped through with relief supplies. The relief workers didn’t realize the kind of blockade that was coming, and they’re now trapped on Christophsis until the blockade is broken.

“The relief effort was sponsored by Alderaan,” Cody says.

Obi-Wan groans. “And personally led by Senator Bail Organa?”

Cody looks up from his notes. There’s a hint of surprise on his face. “Yes.”

“Bail is a good man,” Obi-Wan says. “He’s married to the Queen of Alderaan, and he holds a senate seat. He could easily rest on one or both of those, but he believes in servant leadership. He would never ask someone to do something he wasn’t willing to do himself. Do we know if the Separatists have shown an interest in more than a blockade?”

“Are they preparing for an invasion?” Cody clarifies. “Our scout ships report that a few small transports were sent down six hours ago. I assume the Separatists are investigating whether there is anything of use on the planet or if they only care about its strategic position.”

“Orders from Coruscant are to protect the relief team at any cost,” one of the communications officers, J-Rod, says, reading off the screen at his station. “Alderaan is a peaceful planet, and the Chancellor doesn’t want a tragedy here to discourage other planets from offering aid when it’s needed.”

“And I’m sure his PR team doesn’t want the first shots of the war to be of massacred civilians,” Alpha-17 says. At Cody’s sharp look, he looks slightly abashed.

“Bail can hold his own,” Obi-Wan says. “Not against a fleet of thirty, but against a few scouting teams, he’ll be fine. Alderaan is peaceful, not pacifist.”

“You’ve fought with him before.” Cody pulls up the map they have of Christophsis. A yellow dot pops up. “This was his last recorded position.”

#

They coordinate the plan and then, once another five ships join them, only two of them star destroyers, they put their plan into action. The other ships act as a distraction, targeting the weakest points of the blockade as troop transports and supply ships are sent to the surface as quickly and safely as they can manage.

Knights Makkar and Vetras are both part of the pilot squads in the air, but Obi-Wan, Qui-Gon, and Anakin are deployed to the surface along with the 212^th and the 501^st. As soon as they land, they split into work teams. As several teams begin setting up their temporary base, Obi-Wan takes to the air with Firebird’s platoon to scout the nearby area and search for signs of natives in need of help or the relief workers. Rex and Hawke’s squad have their own scouting assignment, to find out what the enemy is up to.

They find the relief team with their ship. The Tantive III has seen better days, many of its parts scattered across the ground. Firebird has them approach on foot and when the guards raise their blasters, Firebird holds his hands up. “We’re soldiers in the Grand Army of the Republic. We heard you needed help.”

Obi-Wan scans the people crowded around the ship. They’re tired, some of them are sooty or have blastermarks on their clothes. There are only one or two who look as though they’re injured. He sees a variety of species, but all of them wear the olive-green relief jumpsuits with the badge marking them as from Alderaan.

What he doesn’t see, or rather who, is Bail. “Where is Senator Organa?” Obi-Wan asks.

“Obi-Wan?” One of the workers tips their helmet back to reveal a familiar face. Jorgee Milton is one of Bail’s personal guards. “The Jedi are here?”

“The Jedi and the army.” Obi-Wan motions to the vode who fall in on either side of him. “Jorgee, where is Bail?”

“He’s a hostage.” Jorgee grits his teeth. “We were captured. There was no warning before we were surrounded by battle droids. Hundreds of them. Senator Organa told them he was a senator of the Republic and the Prince Consort of Alderaan, and he would go with them without trouble in exchange for the rest of us being released.” Jorgee gestures to their scattered ship parts. “They gave us a parting gift. Even if we can get the Tantive III up and running again, we’ll never make it past the blockade.”

“Let our fleet worry about the blockade,” Firebird says. “Zippy, look over the relief team for any injuries. Sergeant Mo, your squad will remain here. Assist with assembling the ship and then bring the ship and the team back to base. We’ll locate the senator.”

“Let me come with you,” Jorgee says. When Firebird doesn’t respond, Jorgee turns to Obi-Wan. “Knight Kenobi, I have pledged my life and service to the Organas.”

“We’re a specialized team,” Obi-Wan says and Firebird snaps out his wings in demonstration. “You’ll have Sergeant Mo and his squad with you, so we’ll be in communication. Look after Senator Organa’s people and prepare for his return. We’ll take care of the rest.”

Jorgee’s brows pull together in a frown, but he’s too well-trained to protest further. He gives Obi-Wan a sharp nod instead.

Sergeant Mo stays to work with Jorgee and direct the relief team to repairs and then the base camp. Obi-Wan continues on with the other three squads. With droids in the numbers Jorgee described, it’s easy to follow the path they made through Christophsis’s landscape. It takes a few hours, but they find a ridge where they can overlook the Separatists’s camp. Or, one of their camps, at least.

Firebird calls in a report as Obi-Wan and Sergeant Bowie’s squad scan the camp for any sign of Senator Organa. The sight of all those battle droids stirs unpleasant memories of Naboo in Obi-Wan’s mind. He taps his fingers on his binoculars so he doesn’t tap his comm and check to make sure Qui-Gon is alive and safe.

“I found the command tent,” Hook says.

“And I don’t need binoculars to see they’re bringing in reinforcements.” Sergeant Scratch points to the transport ships. If Obi-Wan squint, he can see the shadow of the much larger ship up in orbit. “They plan to make themselves comfortable here.”

“We don’t let them,” Firebird says.

“They’re not fully set up,” Sinker says. He lowers his own binoculars. “Minimal fortifications, even fewer gun turrets.”

“We aren’t fully set up either,” Line points out.

“Yeah, but we’re vode. We’ll be set up and better than the clankers in less time.”

Obi-Wan closes his eyes and lets their conversation wash over him. One advantage to fighting against droids is that it makes it very easy for him to cast his senses over the camp and find the one organic. Bail is on the far side of the camp, which would be a problem if they had to fight their way there. But this is an aerial team. As long as there’s a distraction, it won’t be too difficult to extract him.

“I know where Senator Organa is,” Obi-Wan says.

Firebird contacts Cody at base command to discuss possible strategies. They could wait for nightfall and the cover of darkness, but that will give the Separatists time to shore up their defenses and their numbers. They could call in an air strike, but it would give the Separatists advance notice, and they might kill Senator Organa or bring down more fighters than the GAR is able to handle.

The best option, and the one Cody is least pleased with is a small, targeted snatch and grab from the remaining three-quarters of Firebird’s platoon. Once he makes the decision, Cody leaves command in Firebird’s capable hands and tells them to keep him updated.

“Rex is going to be pissed that he missed this,” Bowie says as they sketch out their plan.

“Won’t be anything compared to Fives,” Hook says. He grins as if he’s looking forward to rubbing it in Fives’s face later. Their goal is chaos and distraction, which means explosives and lots of noise. From what Obi-Wan can gather, this is exactly Fives’s element.

“I’m sure there will be other opportunities to fight droids,” Obi-Wan says.

“But we’re the first,” Hook says. “And first impressions are very important, isn’t that right, vode?”

“We’ll give ‘em the vode welcome,” Line says.

They make their plan and then split up. Because they’re individuals, they can move quietly and without notice. Obi-Wan takes up his post closer to the tent Bail is being stashed in. When Firebird initiates the distraction, Obi-Wan will be able to drop in, grab Bail, and fly out, hopefully before anyone even thinks to cover their hostage.

“Yippie-kay-yay!” Sinker shouts as he dives off the ridge. Obi-Wan hears him clearly, Sinker’s voice carrying over the wind. It isn’t the signal Obi-Wan expected, but maybe he should have. The rest of Bowie’s squad dive off as well, the nine of them flying in formation as they drop explosives into the droid camp.

Once the first cry of alarm goes up, Obi-Wan counts to five, watches as droids abandon their posts to shore up the part of camp being attacked, and then he drops down as well. He does so with less dramatics and manages to catch the two droids guarding Bail by surprise. He drives his lightsaber through one, pulls the plasmablade out, and then stabs the other.

“Obi-Wan?” Bail is already halfway out of his bindings, and he gets out of them completely now that he isn’t being watched. He grabs his cloak and blasters from the table that had been just out of his reach.

“We found your people, they’re safe with ours.” Obi-Wan ushers Bail behind him and pokes his head out of the door. There are droids rushing by, uncoordinated in a way he would expect from sentients in their first fight, not machines that were programmed for it.

He waits for two squads to march by and then he exits and tows Bail around with him. They slip around the back of the tent. There’s about four hundred meters to the edge of the camp. There are another few tents and a guard post between them and relative freedom.

They make it halfway before they’re spotted.

“Hey, you!” A droid raises its blaster. “You should be in the prison tent.”

“Poor hospitality,” Bail says.

The droid’s notice attracts others. Too many for Obi-Wan to fight with his sabers. He gathers Bail in his arms and ignores the man’s protests. Obi-Wan’s wings flare out, blue like his sabers. He draws them in close, tucking them around himself and Bail as the blaster fire begins.

“Are they missing?” Bail asks, his voice muffled by Obi-Wan’s neck.

Obi-Wan takes a deep breath and then throws his wings out and back. The force is enough to topple everything in a twenty-meter radius. Obi-Wan takes advantage of the surprise to push off the ground and fly. Bail yelps and clings to Obi-Wan now as tightly as Obi-Wan clings to him. They’re out of blaster range by the time the first few shots are fired. Anything with range, a sniper rifle or mounted gun, won’t be ready by the time Obi-Wan has Bail out of that range as well.

Obi-Wan activates his comm with a nudge of the Force. “I have Senator Organa. Headed back to base camp.”

“We’ll cover you,” Firebird says. “It looks like they’re warming up a few vultures. Look sharp, vode, and make sure your blasters are charged.”

Firebird sounds like he’s looking forward to taking on a starfighter without a ship of his own. If Obi-Wan wasn’t responsible for getting Bail to safety, he might also share in Firebird’s enthusiasm.

As it is, he has to leave them to their fun. When he reaches the base camp, his adrenaline from the initial fight has ebbed. He’s grateful for his feet to touch the ground. Not, he thinks, as grateful as Bail is. Bail stumbles out of Obi-Wan’s embrace and looks at the ground as if to confirm it’s there. And then he looks at Obi-Wan, and his jaw drops.

“Those are new,” he says. His fingers reach toward Obi-Wan’s wings, and he pulls them back without conscious thought. They bristle, a threat display, and Obi-Wan feels a flush creep up his cheeks.

“Sorry,” Obi-Wan says. “They’re sensitive.”

Commander Cody strides forward with a squad at his back. “Senator Organa, I’m glad to see you well. Captain Gregor here will escort you to the med-bay to make sure you didn’t suffer any injuries. Once we have a formal debrief, I can escort you to where your team is bunking down.”

Bail clears his throat and tries to look more like a distinguished senator than a ruffled rescue. “Knight Kenobi said they were here and safe? All of them?”

“All of them,” Cody says. “Captain Gregor, if you would?”

Captain Gregor, a vod in 212^th gold steps forward and he escorts Bail, eight other vode falling in line around them. Cody looks Obi-Wan over with a critical gaze. “Were you injured?”

“I was not. Should I return to Lieutenant Firebird?”

“They’re finished and on their way back. About two hours behind you,” Cody says. “I’d like to get started on your debrief. Everything and anything you noticed, no matter how insignificant you might think it is.”

“Do you prefer a written or verbal report?” Obi-Wan asks.

“Both,” Cody answers. “If you stop at the mess tent, you can grab something to eat while you write the report. I’d like to discuss it with you once I’ve had a chance to read it.”

“Of course,” Obi-Wan says. He reaches out to brush his Force signature against Qui-Gon’s and then Anakin’s to reassure himself that they’re both here and safe, and then he starts to leave.

Cody clears his throat. He’s wearing his helmet, but Obi-Wan can sense a mixture of amusem*nt and slight exasperation. “The mess tent is in the other direction. Perhaps, I should walk you there.”

“I haven’t learned the layout yet,” Obi-Wan says. “I’ll ask for directions. I’m sure you have more important things you’re supposed to be doing.”

Cody’s hesitation and faint disappointment suggests that he does. “Boil!” he calls out and a vod in 212^th gold jogs over. “Please see Councilor Kenobi to the mess for a post-engagement meal.” Cody hands Boil a datapad. “And that’s for your report, Councilor.”

Obi-Wan figures fighting with military men over titles is a lost cause. He bows in recognition of his orders and his dismissal and then walks with Boil toward a line of tents that looks the same as all the other lines of tents.

“Firebird says there were clankers and starfighters,” Boil says with a note of envy in his voice.

“I missed the starfighters,” Obi-Wan says. “But there were definitely droids. The first skirmish of the war was ours, but they have a lot more firepower up there than we do.” Obi-Wan spares a glance at the sky. “And if we can’t break the blockade, then we’ve only delayed Senator Organa’s ransoming, rather than preventing it.”

“We have reinforcements on the way,” Boil says. “And in the meantime, Admiral Kal’ika’s giving those scrapheads a hell of a time.”

Boil makes sure Obi-Wan gets a full tray and then he sits Obi-Wan at the far end of a table and elects himself sentry to keep anyone from pestering him with questions while he eats and begins his report. Even Boil’s questions aren’t asked, held back now that Obi-Wan has a task to complete.

He’s finishing up his initial pass when there’s a commotion in the mess. He looks up to see Firebird and the rest of the platoon enter, harangued by their fellow vode. Obi-Wan’s out of his seat in an instant. He looks Firebird over, noting the scratches and scorch marks on his armor. He laughs quietly as he notices Firebird doing the same to him.

“We’re all back and unharmed.” Firebird claps Obi-Wan’s shoulder. “And now we’re hungry. Anything good today?” He laughs at his own joke and doesn’t wait for an answer.

Obi-Wan goes through the same ritual with the rest of the platoon. A quick look over, a quip or a touch, and then they go hunting for food as well. They’re swarmed as soon as they sit, and Obi-Wan laughs as he overhears tales of their fight that have already been exaggerated.

He submits a copy of his report to Firebird as his platoon leader, to Rex as his company leader, to Alpha-17 as his battalion leader, and to Cody as his commander, per protocol. At loose ends until Cody’s ready to speak with him, Obi-Wan follows the bright spot in the Force that is Anakin Skywalker until he finds him.

Qui-Gon and Anakin are taking advantage of a bit of a lull right now to train, and Anakin is down to his leggings as he sweats under the heavy sun. He finishes his spar with Qui-Gon and then powers down his saber and waves the hilt at Obi-Wan in greeting.

“Was that Djem So I saw?” Obi-Wan asks. “It suits you.”

Anakin preens a little under the praise. “Thank you. Master Qui-Gon said it was a good fit for my personality, and it’s good for saber-to-saber combat. And after Maul…” Anakin trails off, his awkwardness obvious.

Obi-Wan’s had ten years to come to peace with what happened on Naboo. “After Maul, your master wanted to make sure you were prepared to fight other saber wielders,” Obi-Wan finishes. It’s the same reason he changed his own fighting style. Not only did he have to adjust to wings, but Ataru had failed him when he needed it. “Djem So and Makashi are the two forms most well-known for saber-to-saber combat. And Qui-Gon spent too many years stubbornly refusing to learn Makashi to teach it to his padawan.”

Qui-Gon grunts his agreement and then moves fluidly into a one-person kata, giving Obi-Wan and Anakin permission to talk.

“Did you really rescue Senator Organa?” Anakin asks. He heads for the pile of his clothes and digs through them until he produces a water bottle. He glugs a bit and then wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. At Obi-Wan’s nod, he sighs, almost wistful. “That’s pretty cool. I want to rescue a senator one day. Maybe Senator Amidala.”

“Haven’t you already saved her? Or was it a different Anakin Skywalker who took out the droid control ship during the Naboo Invasion?”

“But I was a kid, then.” There’s a bit of a whine in Anakin’s voice, because he’s nineteen and still a kid. “And when we went to rescue Master Qui-Gon on Geonosis, we both got captured, and she got herself free before I did.”

“She can handle herself,” Obi-Wan says. He taps Anakin’s nose. “Which is a good thing. If you have to rescue her, it’s because she’s been captured. Is that what you want?”

“No!” Anakin pouts. He scuffs his boot on the ground. “I want to impress her. I want her to look at me and see me, not the kid she met on Tatooine.”

“You have a crush on her,” Obi-Wan says, getting it out in the open.

“It’s allowed,” Anakin says, quickly, defensively.

Obi-Wan holds his hands up for peace. “It is. If a Jedi chooses to be celibate or to forsake romantic relationships, it is a personal choice and not a mandate from the Order. Padawans, however, are strongly discouraged from such entanglements. Your focus is supposed to be on the Force and your lessons.”

“You weren’t knighted until you were twenty-five. Are you saying you never…” Anakin answers his own question with a scoff. “Of course, you didn’t. You were the perfect padawan.”

There’s something bitter in Anakin’s tone, and Obi-Wan instinctively wants to shy away. He forces himself to stay where he is, even though his wings reach out behind him, ready to spirit him away if he needs a quick escape.

“The perfect padawan?” Obi-Wan makes himself laugh. “People are still spouting that nonsense?”

“Nonsense?” Anakin asks. “But you—everyone says it. You were Qui-Gon’s perfect padawan, and I was the dustball hick he picked up on Tatooine and—”

Obi-Wan rests a hand on Anakin’s shoulder to stem the flow of fear-worry-inadequacy-anger that pours off of him. He glances at Qui-Gon but before Obi-Wan can sign and tell him that Obi-Wan’s taking Anakin for a walk, Qui-Gon is the one who makes his excuses to leave.

Obi-Wan doesn’t sit, because his wings would get in the way, but he leans on a stack of crates. “Does Qui-Gon ever talk to you about my apprenticeship?”

“Not really,” Anakin says. “Sometimes, he’ll say things like Obi-Wan understood this or Obi-Wan would have had my tea made but just little stuff like that.”

Obi-Wan sighs and wonders if maybe Qui-Gon isn’t as suited to teaching as Yoda thinks he is. “At twelve, I still hadn’t been chosen by a master. When I got into an unsanctioned fight with another initiate, I was dismissed to the AgriCorps early.”

“What?” Anakin’s mouth hangs open.

“My posting happened to be on the same planet that Master Jinn had traveled for an assignment. I was pulled into his mission and at the end of it, and he offered to take me as his padawan.”

“But you—”

“I was angry and impulsive,” Obi-Wan says and Anakin’s sheepish silence says he understands the parallels. “When I was thirteen, Master Jinn and I diverted to Melida/Daan to rescue Master Tahl. I thought we should stay, and I would not agree to return to the Temple with Master Jinn. When I remained, I had to give Master Jinn my lightsaber and cut my braid.”

“You—” Anakin’s shock is, once again, palpable.

“I briefly left the Jedi Order,” Obi-Wan says. “When Master Jinn returned and brought me back to the Temple, I was placed on probation. I was fourteen. I had two very large, very well-known black marks on my record. I was afraid a third would mean the end of my dream. And so yes, I cultivated the image of being the perfect padawan, but I wasn’t. Perfection isn’t obtainable. And an image isn’t always truth. It’s a projection.”

“So…” Anakin scrunches up his face. “You did have sex before you were knighted?”

Obi-Wan laughs. “Yes, that was the takeaway of that anecdote.” He laughs again so Anakin knows he isn’t angry or upset with him. “Everyone has their own path to walk. There are lessons and warnings and shortcuts you can learn from others, but you will never be able to follow exactly in their steps. Nor should you. You should live your life, not an imitation of a false projection of mine.”

Anakin grows solemn as he considers this. “Did it work? It must have, because you’re a knight. Well, a Councilor now.” He scrunches his face again. “I think it worked too well.”

“I am a Jedi,” Obi-Wan agrees. He wings reach up behind him, all three sets spreading out as if they can capture more of the sun’s warmth. “My apprenticeship was the foundation for the Jedi I am today, but if I had the opportunity to do it again, I would not do it in the same way. I spent over ten years burying who I truly was under who I thought everyone wanted me to be.”

Anakin drags his toe through the grass. “Half the Temple thinks I’m the Chosen One, and the other half think I’m a malfunctioning laser cannon that’s gonna backfire and take everyone out in the explosion.”

“Who do you think you are?” Obi-Wan asks. “Who do you want to be?” He’s hesitant to push, but he recalls when he first met Anakin. “Because I remember a boy on Tatooine who wanted to help people.”

“I do.” Anakin’s earnestness is fierce, almost overwhelming in its intensity. “On Tatooine, there were a few beings with power, but the only people they helped were themselves. I don’t know if I’m the Chosen One, but I am powerful. “I want to use that power to help those who need it.”

“In that case, I think you will make a very fine Jedi knight yourself, Anakin Skywalker.”

Anakin’s skin, tanned from the sun, doesn’t show a blush as easily as Obi-Wan’s, but he ducks his head to hide his pink cheeks anyway.

Chapter 5

Chapter Text

Obi-Wan has a formal debrief with Alpha-17, Cody, Rex, Firebird, and Hawke. Each of them talk about their missions, and Obi-Wan understands the purpose as they learn what each other are capable of. It’s another reminder that this is war and not a simple rescue mission. They will be working together for a long time and need to know each other’s strengths and weaknesses.

They’re dismissed with orders to find their bunks. Obi-Wan stops in the tent he shares with Qui-Gon and Anakin long enough to tell them he’s sleeping elsewhere, and then he goes in search of a place he’ll actually be able to sleep.

He has less control over his wings when he’s asleep, and he doesn’t want to touch Qui-Gon or Anakin while they’re sleeping. It’s too intimate, an invasion of privacy, and he doesn’t want to accidently share his nightmares or borrow theirs.

Their base camp is tight quarters like the ship, so he doesn’t expect to find a tent that can accommodate him. Fortunately, their camp borders on a thick forest. Normally, Obi-Wan would be worried about that kind of terrain at his back, but droids won’t be able to move through it easily or quietly.

It doesn’t take him long before he finds a suitable tree, one with a thick, sturdy branch jutting out at a height he has to make a Force-assisted leap to reach. Once he’s on the branch, he hooks his knees over it until he’s hanging upside down. He wraps his wings around him like a blanket and then closes his eyes.

He wakes to damp leggings, because the morning dew collected on his clothes, but he’s well-rested, and he drops from the branch and lands lightly on his feet. His comm tells him that he’s expected to take first meal in an hour with the officers. He takes the time to go for a light run, stretch, and then enter a refreshing meditation. By the time he joins the others for first meal, he’s almost happy.

And then he remembers that he’s on Christophsis, the first battleground of a pre-planned war, and he loses some of his cheer.

Anakin is already at the table, but he looks half-asleep. His other half is grumpy at being awake, and Obi-Wan can’t quite hide his smile when he notes the same expression on Rex’s face. Cody looks between the two and shares Obi-Wan’s smile before motioning to the spot across from him.

Lieutenant Waxer of the 212^th offers a tired wave and Lieutenant Jesse of the 501^st downs his caf ration in one go and then salutes Obi-Wan with the empty cup. Tea is not nearly as rationed as the caf, because there apparently is not as much interest in it, but Obi-Wan finds that the quality is poor enough that he won’t be getting a second cup.

Alpha-17 looks like he’s going to swipe Obi-Wan’s cup and then he notices the contents. “Leaf water,” he says derisively.

“You don’t have much room to talk as you were drinking bean water.”

“Mushroom water is better,” Anakin says. “Have you ever had mushroom caf? It isn’t as bitter. Earthy.”

“Mushrooms?” Obi-Wan glances at Qui-Gon.

“Not hallucinogenic,” Qui-Gon says.

“Mmm, Derra IV,” Obi-Wan says. “That was quite the experience.”

Anakin rouses himself enough to squint at Obi-Wan. “You got high on mushrooms with Master Qui-Gon?”

“Partook in a valuable cultural tradition,” Cody says, sounding as if he’s repeating something. It’s his turn to squint at Obi-Wan. “That is what you said in your mission report. It was code for drugs?”

Obi-Wan grins, first at Cody’s mild disapproval and then at Anakin’s slack-jawed expression. “It was true, from a certain point of view. That, Anakin, is how I projected the image of being the perfect padawan. It was all in the framing.”

“What was cultural norms and mores are lax during the ritual code for?” Cody asks.

Qui-Gon snorts into his cup of tea. He looks at Obi-Wan with a warmth and familiarity that Obi-Wan has missed during his self-imposed exile. “I believe Obi-Wan felt as though his clothes were trying to burrow into his skin and stripped completely naked.”

“It was very freeing,” Obi-Wan says. “You thought everything tasted like muja berries, and later we found out that you ate almost two pounds of grass over the course of the evening.”

“There’s a note saying you shouldn’t return to the planet,” Cody says. “Were you banned for public nudity?”

Qui-Gon laughs again. Even though it highlights the lines around his eyes, he looks younger when he laughs. “One of the village leaders tried to abduct Obi-Wan to force him to marry his daughter.”

“His unborn daughter,” Obi-Wan says. “I managed to convince them that it was against my vows as a Jedi to marry someone I knew as an infant and watched grow into adulthood. So they tossed us off the planet and tried to demand that I would return in eighteen years to get married. I figured it was safest if I avoided Derra IV.”

“If you had to avoid every planet someone tried to marry you on, you’d be avoiding most of the inner and mid rim,” Qui-Gon says. He sips his tea delicately, as if he isn’t a troublemaker.

“Really?” Anakin asks, eager for more stories of Obi-Wan’s apprenticeship.

“I always thought it was the red hair,” Qui-Gon says.

“Master Qui-Gon, for all that he has a reputation as a negotiator and a diplomat lacks common courtesies,” Obi-Wan says. “I spent a lot of time smoothing tempers—” “Flirting,” Qui-Gon interjects –“and it was misinterpreted.”

“You never let me get kidnapped and married at blaster point,” Anakin says with a bit of a pout.

“Which is good,” Obi-Wan says. “As most marriage vows conflict with your vows to the Order. A Jedi puts the needs of the many over the needs of the few, or the one. And the one isn’t only yourself. It could be a spouse, a parent, a friend. Casual sex is permitted, permanent declarations are discouraged, and marriage requires special dispensation. Master Mundi, for example, is married because of the exceptionally low birthrates amongst his people. He married for the needs of his people, not for his own personal wants or desires.”

“So, I could get married?” Anakin asks. “If it wasn’t in conflict with my vows?”

“Special dispensation,” Obi-Wan reminds him. “You would have to present your case to the Council and accept their decision, whether it was in your favor or not. But it’s exceptionally rare. As I said, most marriage vows conflict with the vows we make to the Order. Most Jedi have relationships without the formality of marriage. Fun fact, did you know that Mandalorian wedding vows don’t conflict with ours?”

“Why do you know that?” Anakin asks.

“Did Satine propose to you?” Qui-Gon asks.

Obi-Wan is aware of the way the officers at their table pay careful attention to Obi-Wan’s answer. He offers Qui-Gon a sad smile and a shake of his head. “If she had, I might have said yes. But what she wanted was for me to give up the Order for her. She didn’t ask. I think she wanted me to offer. But I didn’t. I wanted to be a Jedi more than I wanted to be at her side.”

“So, you didn’t love her,” Anakin says with the certainty of youth.

“You can love someone without giving up who you are for them,” Obi-Wan says. “You can love them when you aren’t in the same place.”

“One when apart,” Cody murmurs, as if speaking to himself.

“And there are more kinds of love than romantic love,” Obi-Wan tells Anakin. He gestures to Qui-Gon. “Master Qui-Gon raised me. He trained me. He helped me achieve my dream. I love him. But it is not a possessive love.” Obi-Wan didn’t mean to get this serious so early in the morning, but he has already delved into this topic. “You were quite young during the Naboo Invasion. Did anyone tell you how close Master Qui-Gon came to dying?”

Anakin glances at Qui-Gon and then back at Obi-Wan. He shakes his head.

“Very close,” Obi-Wan answers, his voice soft in deference to the topic. “There was a moment after Maul was dead and the fight was over…Master Qui-Gon’s head was in my lap. I could feel the faint thread of his life. And the darkside whispered to me. It promised to give him life. It pulsed with Maul’s leftover anger, his fury and hatred. The darkside was strong, and it was willing to give its strength to Qui-Gon. With the darkside’s help, he would live. And without it, his future was uncertain.”

Anakin looks at Qui-Gon longer this time, as if he’s trying to see something dark in his aura. “But you didn’t, right?”

“I didn’t. The darkside promised life, but it didn’t speak its other promises. What the cost would be. I knew that Master Qui-Gon would rather die than live with darkness inside either of us. I loved him, and in that moment, it meant I had to be willing to watch him die.”

Anakin shakes his head. His confusion and anger bubbles up. “No! That’s wrong. When you love someone, you save them. You want to be with them. You—”

“Your mother loves you,” Obi-Wan interrupts gently. “And she sent you with Qui-Gon along with her love, but she stayed on Tatooine. She saved you by sending you to the Jedi. And by becoming a Jedi, you saved her, because I met her and was able to return and secure her freedom. But you’ll never be together the way you were as a child. Not if you continue on the path of the Jedi. You will love hundreds of people in your lifetime, Anakin. And if you are very lucky, they will love you in turn. But love for one cannot outweigh your duty.”

Anakin shakes his head again. “You would have let Master Qui-Gon die?”

“Anakin, if I tapped into the darkside to save him, one of two things would have happened. I would have corrupted Qui-Gon’s Force presence with the darkside, and he would live with something twisted and wrong inside of him. He would be at war with himself until he was consumed by the darkside or until the struggle killed him. Or, I would be the one corrupted. After giving the darkside a foothold in my soul, it would have burrowed so deeply, I would never be able to excise it.”

“You don’t know that,” Anakin says.

Obi-Wan hides his alarm, but he nudges Qui-Gon to make sure he’s noticed and will address this with Anakin later. There is no controlling the darkside of the Force. Those who think they can, Fall and fall hard. “When I was thirteen, Master Qui-Gon rubbed healing salve on the burns from my collar, and I promised him I would never Fall. I saw what the darkside had done to Xanatos, and I would not follow his path. When I was sixteen, I tracked Master Qui-Gon across New Apsolon, and I promised I would never let him Fall. If he was tempted, if the Force was clouded, I would be his beacon. When I was twenty-five, Master Qui-Gon lay dying, and I upheld my promises to him and put my faith in the Force.”

And then, disturbed and frightened at how close he’d been to listening to the insidious whisper, he proved that he could love without attachment and left the Temple. He left Qui-Gon to the care of the healers and to his new apprentice, and Obi-Wan went to his home world to learn more about himself.

“Thank you,” Qui-Gon says quietly, interrupting whatever protest Anakin is working up to. Abruptly, Anakin deflates, and he turns his betrayed look on Qui-Gon, but Qui-Gon is watching Obi-Wan. “I never thanked you for saving my life on Naboo. And now, it sounds as if you saved my soul as well.”

Obi-Wan swallows thickly. “I—”

Qui-Gon draws Obi-Wan close to him and kisses his forehead. “Thank you,” he says again.

A long-open wound heals at the touch or maybe the words. Obi-Wan closes his eyes and basks in Qui-Gon’s closeness. Embarrassingly, his wings flare out, emerald like Qui-Gon’s lightsaber. There’s no one behind them so his wings don’t hit anything, but it’s still an appalling lapse in self-control.

#

They spend two days shoring up the defenses around their camp, preparing for the inevitable confrontation with the Separatists forces and then Waxer and Boil return from a scouting trip to announce that the droids are on the move.

No more waiting.

Cody lays out the battle plan, hands out assignments, and then the captains leave to report to their companies and spread the word. Obi-Wan is with Rex. The Winged Company will fight on the ground unless or until there’s a need for them to take to the air.

Obi-Wan wouldn’t say he’s looking forward to it, but ground fighting makes it easier for him to use his sabers. It will be good for him to see how he works with the vode at ground level. Alpha-17 has taken Anakin with his company. Cody has absorbed Qui-Gon into his.

“The last time I fought droids on this scale, I fought alongside gungans,” Obi-Wan says.

“They’re native to Naboo, right?” Firebird asks.

“Native to Naboo’s swamps and water. I believe one of them is now a senator. Perhaps, you’ll be able to meet Jar Jar. He’s quite chatty.”

They settle into their position, scattered in the forest the droids will have to march past to reach the base. They fall into radio silence, because their role is to lay low and then be part of a two-flank attack. Obi-Wan takes the opportunity to kneel on the ground and meditate.

He comes out of his meditation at the sound of uniform marching. They hear the enemy long before they see them. But soon, the sun glints off the metal droids. They march in formation, neat lines broken up only by tanks or walkers.

Obi-Wan’s muscles tense and coil, prepared to leap forward, but he holds still. It isn’t time yet. Cody’s plan is sound, and Obi-Wan must maintain his faith. If they attack now, the enemy will fan out, and they’ll lose their potential advantage. They have to let them advance, let them engage, and then they’ll swarm out of the forest.

Hevy, part of Domino squad, stands and lifts his Z-6 rotary blaster cannon, prepared to engage. Fives has an RPS-6 rocket launcher on his shoulder. He is anxious in the Force, not with worry but anticipation. Obi-Wan grips his sabers, one in each hand, and draws comfort from the familiar grooves. It will be his responsibility to keep the blasterfire off Fives and the others with rocket launchers as they aim for the tanks and other large weapons.

All of a sudden, the droids stop marching. Obi-Wan isn’t the only one to hold his breath and wonder who will make the first move. And then, one of the tanks is lifted in the air before it rolls through the lines of droids, smashing any in its path.

Anakin, Obi-Wan thinks, and then Sith f*cking hells. The droids respond by firing, blasters and cannons and everything else they have. Once return fire comes from the base, Rex signals their company, and they barrage the droids from the forest.

Hevy guns down swaths of them with his rotary cannon. Fives lines up his first shot and cheers as his rocket hits a walker and sends it crashing to the ground. Obi-Wan leaps out of the woods as the droids turn to face the threat. He takes the first round of blasterfire and sends it back at the shooters with a flurry of blue blades.

He feels the prick of a life lost, the first vod to fall in the battle. There are more, sharp stabbing points of pain. He does his best to shunt his awareness of them deeper. Later, when the battle is won, he will mourn each life lost, but he can’t afford distraction now.

“Incoming!” Firebird calls over the comms as a team of enemy starfighters fly over.

“With me!” Hawke calls and his platoon takes to the air. “The rest of you stay and cover the rest of the company.”

“Fives, keep your fire on the tanks!” Rex shouts as Fives adjusts to aim for the sky. “Hawke and his platoon will keep the air clear.”

“Yes, sir!” Fives readjusts. Obi-Wan dives, rolls, and pops up in time to deflect a wave of blasterfire aimed at Fives and his rocket launcher. Fives aims and his rocket passes through the gap in Obi-Wan’s wings and finds its home buried in the turret of a tank.

The top of the tank is blown off and droids scramble out of it like angry hornets. They come out shooting, and Obi-Wan collects more blaster bolts and sends them back at the enemy. He falls into a rhythm, and this is why he learned Soresu. It’s flowing, constant, and even though it’s eternal, it isn’t tiring.

“Get ready, vode!” Rex calls.

The droids, realizing shooting isn’t getting them anywhere, turn and march in what seems like an unending line. They drop to Winged Company’s firepower, but there are more to take their place, and they slowly, but steadily, advance. It’s going to be hand-to-hand combat soon. Or, knife combat for the vode and lightsabers for Obi-Wan.

Once the droids reach him, Obi-Wan sweeps both his blades out and cuts through the droids with ease. These are standard battle droids. They don’t have the personal shields or bulky forms of the more advanced units. Obi-Wan wonders how long until they adjust to Jedi being on the front lines.

Rex jumps into a cluster of droids and spins, his wings out and slicing through anyone in range. He snaps his wings back in and then jumps on a droid, his knife raised and ready to bury in its wiring.

Obi-Wan hears a shout, and he turns in time to see three droids reach Hevy, who was caught reloading his energy packs. Obi-Wan leaps forward and neatly cuts off all three droid heads in one swing of his left blade. He raises his right to deflect blaster fire. Hevy curses as he fumbles with the energy cartridges. Obi-Wan’s wings flare up and out, providing cover as Hevy makes the switch.

“My turn,” Hevy says once he’s ready.

Obi-Wan moves out of the way as Hevy sprays the incoming droids with cannon fire. A walker turns its turrets in their direction. Its occupants have learned, because it doesn’t aim for the troopers hidden amongst the trees. It aims for the trees themselves.

“sh*t!” someone shouts and dives to avoid a falling tree.

A second shot hits the foliage and the leaves burn up, but it’s slow enough to catch the branches on fire as well.

“Clear out!” Rex shouts, his voice rising above the sounds of the fight. “Position is compromised. Fallback to secondary site!”

Obi-Wan takes a running start and then pushes up into the air. The walker turns its turret, but it doesn’t have the same flexibility or agility as Obi-Wan. Obi-Wan plummets, sabers ignited, and he buries his plasmablades in the top of the walker. He rides the machine down to the ground and then pushes off into the air again. He has to roll to avoid a hail of blasterfire.

“Where the f*ck is my air support?” Alpha-17 demands over the comms.

“Keeping a secondary force from sneaking up on you,” Captain Dollface says.

“f*ck!” Alpha-17 responds.

“Rex,” Cody says, and that’s all he has to say.

“We’re on it,” Rex says. Then, on the company comms, he adds, “Regroup and head for my position. Alpha-17 needs us to save his ass.”

Obi-Wan flies high enough to see where the second threat is coming from. It’s almost entirely droids, which meant they could move more quickly than the primary force.

“Kenobi, with me!” Firebird calls and Obi-Wan veers off to join Firebird’s platoon in an overhead strike. He keeps his sabers out and uses them to deflect blasterfire back at the enemy. The droids’ precise marching falters as they stumble over the husks of their fallen fighters.

“Geronimo!” Mo calls out before he tosses several blinking orbs into the air. They fall in gentle arcs and then explode, not gently at all, as soon as they hit the ground. Droids and droid parts scatter as the explosions catch them. There’s chaos and smoke, and Obi-Wan returns to Firebird to organize a second run.

#

The fighting ends, but the battle isn’t over. There is clean-up to do. They make stacks of droid parts and corral the droids which have surrendered. There are vode who are ushered to the med-tents and other vode who are carefully arranged for a pyre later this evening. The Force is full of conflicting emotions; joy and mourning, elation and exhaustion.

Obi-Wan does his part to help with the post-battle, he meets with Rex and the other officers of the Winged Company, and then he seeks out the other Jedi. They’re all whole, only a few minor injuries between them. They sit in a circle and sink into a group meditation.

It has been years since Obi-Wan shared a meditation like this, but his mind remembers how to do it. He reaches out to the others and opens his own connections in return. They process the fight, how they needed to kill, how they felt the deaths of others.

Anakin’s mind is loud, his thoughts jumbled, and his emotions swing from one extreme to another. Touching his mind is like a jolt of caffeine, and Obi-Wan has to carefully filter so it doesn’t overwhelm him. After one battle, Anakin has already drawn clear lines between droids and vode. One is to be destroyed without hesitation, the other is to be protected with all the power at Anakin’s fingertips.

Obi-Wan eases the sharp edges of Anakin’s emotions and then drifts to Nev’s mind. Obi-Wan experiences one of Nev’s bombing runs with him. He praises Nev’s concentration when he wasn’t thrown off by the chaos around him and eases Nev’s sorrow when they experience one of his fellow pilots being blasted out of the sky.

They move in and out of each other’s minds until Qui-Gon coaxes them to return to their own and emerge from their meditations. Obi-Wan stretches and is unsurprised to feel his wings stretch along with his muscles. Nor is he surprised to find that his wings had curled around Kal and Nev, the two next to him in their circle.

His wings are connected to the Force and as his mind reached out, so did his wings. He allows them to stretch as wide and as far as the can and then he tucks them close to his back again. He doesn’t tuck them away, not while he has the space to leave them out.

“Those are damn impressive,” Kal says, a touch of envy in his voice.

“I was never as good a pilot as this one.” Obi-Wan touches Nev’s shoulder. “If I wanted to fly, I had to find another way.”

“You were a poor pilot, because it took you three tries to pass astronav,” Qui-Gon says.

Obi-Wan grins as he pushes to his feet. “Math is hard, Master Qui-Gon. Boring, too.”

Qui-Gon smiles, fond and exasperated but with none of the frustration from Obi-Wan’s apprenticeship. Obi-Wan employed the help of his friends, he stayed for extra sessions with his teacher, and astronav continued to elude him. It was math and calculations with too many variables, all done under pressure, and he could never juggle it all at once. Even now, he relies on his atromechs. With enough time, he can muddle through on his own, but if he’s ever forced to rely only on himself, he knows he would be in trouble.

“Will you be staying with us this night cycle?” Qui-Gon asks. He senses Obi-Wan’s answer before Obi-Wan can even open his mouth. He frowns and Obi-Wan feels the brief sting of rejection, Qui-Gon’s own response before he locks his mind down.

“The tents aren’t built for my new form,” Obi-Wan says. He flares his wings to prove his point. “I have a place to sleep. It isn’t anything against you or Anakin.”

“Really?” Anakin asks. “Because I have extra earplugs if you need them. Master Jinn snores like a bantha.”

“Healer Che says it’s because he’s had his nose broken so many times.” Obi-Wan mock sighs. “Nothing to be done for it. But I learned to sleep through his snoring early on in my apprenticeship. Self-defense.”

Nev laughs as he and Kal clasp hands and help each other to their feet. “You almost make me want to take a padawan. My master told me it was the Force’s reminder to stay humble.”

“You’ll need it if you keep flying like you did today,” Obi-Wan says. “I’ve never seen anything like it.”

“I’m not the one who threw a tank.” Nev takes Obi-Wan’s compliment and then deflects it by praising Anakin’s early feat of strength.

“Alpha-17 wants to join my training sessions with Master Jinn,” Anakin grumbles.

“He’s only ever read about Jedi or heard the stories from Jango Fett,” Obi-Wan says. “Seeing how Jedi operate is different. He wants to understand what you can do and what your limitations are, so he understands how to utilize you better.”

“I’m not his to use.” Anakin’s emotions flare up and then subside at a gentle nudge from Qui-Gon.

Obi-Wan bows and then leaves the conversation to Anakin, Qui-Gon, and Alpha-17.

He eats in the officers’ mess and smiles as an enterprising young trooper sneaks in and then is disappointed to find that the caf is the same whether you’re an officer or a trooper. Obi-Wan helps deflect notice from him as he makes his escape. He eats with some of the officers from the 212^th and listens to their engagement before he shares a bit about his own.

There’s less envy than he would have expected toward the Winged Company. Maybe Obi-Wan is biased. Now that he’s learned about his wings, he can’t imagine living without them.

“I mean, if you want to be in the middle of the action, you can always go through ARC training,” Captain Gregor says. “The wingpacks are cool, but jetpacks work just as well, and they don’t come with extra training from Seventeen.”

“I’m more than happy with my assignment,” Sergeant Barlex says. He leads the Parjai squad, which is part of the 2^nd Airborne Company. They’re paratroopers and while they don’t have wings, they have some specialized equipment of their own.

“Cody’s an asshole but sneakier about it,” Waxer says.

Gregor snorts. “Seventeen trained him, remember? And he was batchmates with Fox. He learned to be an asshole out of self-defense.”

“Aw, Fox is alright,” Barlex says. “It’s Wolffe you have to watch out for.” He looks at Obi-Wan and lights up with mischief. “Did you know Wolffe has a cybernetic eye, because Seventeen told him to always sleep with one eye open?”

“And Cody got his scar from a stack of datapads falling on him.” Obi-Wan huffs, but it’s good-natured. “I might be new, but I’m not a shiny.”

Barlex gestures to Obi-Wan’s armor. “Did you really get that on Mandalore?”

There’s something hostile in Barlex’s tone. Obi-Wan nods slowly, trying to figure out if the anger is for the armor or for something else.

“What was Mandalore like?” Waxer asks. “The Prime rarely talked about it, but the other trainers mentioned it. Like they missed it.”

“It isn’t for us,” Barlex snaps, and there’s the source of the anger. Not for Obi-Wan wearing armor he didn’t earn or that wasn’t crafted for him but that it’s Mandalorian. “The Prime could talk all he wanted about glory,” Barlex practically spits the word, “but it isn’t for us. We’re fighting for the Republic, not for Mandalore.”

“Skirata, one of the trainers,” Waxer says for Obi-Wan’s benefit, “always talked about returning to Mandalore. When he left Kamino, he took the Nulls with him. I wonder if it’s enough for him to do it.”

The conversation falls into what seems like familiar complaining about the trainers and wistful wonderings about Mandalore, and a deep, enduring anger toward Jango Fett. Obi-Wan keeps his thoughts to himself as he eats.

Chapter 6

Chapter Text

Obi-Wan is woken by a shout. He unhooks his legs and flips as he drops from the tree so that he lands on his feet. He isn’t sure who is more surprised, himself at being woken up, or the troopers who have their blasters pointed at him.

“sh*t!” the one on the left says. Their armor is marked in green for the 442^nd. They quickly holster their blaster and then snap to attention. “Sorry for swearing, sir. And for startling you. And for drawing a weapon.”

“Shut up!” The second one smacks their companion. “Do you want us written up?”

“At ease,” Obi-Wan tells them. The sun is beginning to rise, which means it’s earlier than he’d prefer to be awake, but after that jolt of adrenaline, he won’t find sleep again. Instead, he stretches his arms and his wings. “I apologize for complicating your patrol.”

The first one looks at the tree branch and then at Obi-Wan. “What were you doing?”

“Sleeping.”

The first one tilts his helmet but the second one smacks him again and hisses, “He’s a Jedi, don’t question it.”

“My name is Obi-Wan Kenobi,” Obi-Wan tells them.

“Cage, sir,” the one of the left says.

His companion sighs but says, “Uptick, sir.”

“Has the morning patrol been quiet?” Obi-Wan asks.

Cage nods.

“If I were to jog, is there a path that wouldn’t disturb any other patrols?”

Cage sketches him a route, using his hands and a complicated series of directions. Upticks says they’ll give the other patrols a heads up that there might be a Jedi running around and not to panic. Obi-Wan figures that’s as good as he’ll get. He stops by the tent he theoretically shares with Anakin and Qui-Gon, changes into clothes more suited to exercising, and then goes for a run.

He stretches properly after, goes through a series of strength and core circuits. It’s still too early for anyone but the late shift to be stirring, so Obi-Wan goes to the mess. If he can’t sleep, at least he can drink tea.

He’s on his third cup by the time he has company. Rex and Cody enter together, and they wave but don’t join him until they have hot beverages of their own. Rex makes a show of peering into Obi-Wan’s cup.

“Not thick enough to be blood,” Rex reports.

“What?” Obi-Wan asks.

Cody sighs as if it’s too early for Rex’s nonsense. “There are rumors going around base that you’re a vampire.”

“Or a bat,” Rex says. “Do you really sleep upside down?”

“Sometimes.” Obi-Wan sips his tea and longs for his earlier solitude.

Cody, despite the early hour, studies Obi-Wan’s wings and then comes to the correct conclusion. “Bunks and tents don’t have the space for your wings. You sleep on your ship on The Resolute, because it’s built for your people and your needs. And at camp, you have been sleeping in trees.”

“They manifest while I sleep,” Obi-Wan says. “The two most comfortable positions for me to sleep in are on my stomach, with the space for them to stretch out or upside down with them tucked around me. Most housing accommodations aren’t made with Stewjoni in mind.”

“I don’t like you so exposed,” Cody says, bluntly. He drinks half his caf in one swallow. “Does it have to be a tree? Could we set up a bar in one of the tents?”

“You could but it isn’t necessary. I know how to adapt to my surroundings.”

Cody’s gaze is flat and unimpressed. “We trained two platoons to use wingpacks specifically for you, and you think it is an inconvenience to redesign a living space for you?” He doesn’t wait for Obi-Wan’s answer. “We’ll have something set up here by tonight, and we’ll have proper quarters for you when we’re back on The Resolute.”

“It isn’t worth arguing with him,” Rex says. “Even Alpha-17 gave up. Why do you think Cody’s in command of an entire systems army when Alpha-17 trained him? You can’t out stubborn him.”

“Alpha-17 isn’t diplomatic enough to be a marshal commander,” Cody says. The tips of his ears are pink, as if he’s embarrassed. Obi-Wan wants to know what Cody’s embarrassment feels like, and his wings reach toward him before Obi-Wan realizes what he’s doing and snaps them back.

“We need to figure out the reload issue with the Z-6s,” Rex says. “In sims, Hevy could reload at about three minutes consistently, but it was closer to six yesterday. Kenobi—” At Cody’s cleared throat, Rex huffs and corrects, “Councilor Kenobi covered him, but we need a formalized system. And we need to cut the time down.”

“Thank you for volunteering to develop the cover system,” Cody says. He ignores Rex’s pained groan. “We have our own techs and Merr-Sonn Munitions’ engineers both looking into the time issue. But it’s a big weapon. If you want fast reload, you use a DC-17, but a hand blaster can’t fire 166 rounds a second. There’s a trade-off.”

Rex grumbles something too quiet to hear, which is probably good, because Obi-Wan has a feeling Rex would be written up if Cody had heard him.

“The Z-6 is better than the Z-3,” Obi-Wan says. There were a few of them on Melida/Daan, outdated, past their use, but cobbled together and still functioning. “They had solved the overheating issue by the Z-3s, but there was still the kickback problem. They used to launch the gunner into the air.”

Cody and Rex both look up from their caf.

“I bet there’s footage on the holonet,” Obi-Wan says. “The Z-3s came with a cable so the gunner could latch themselves to their weapon to prevent complete separation.”

“I’ll tell Hevy to stop complaining,” Rex says.

“If he’s so unhappy, you can assign someone else to the Z-6,” Cody says lightly. Rex scowls as if he knows it would never happen and that he would never suggest it.

#

Cody coordinates with Admiral Kal’ika and the rest of the fleet, but the blockade is still going strong after five days on Christophsis. As five days stretch into ten and then fifteen, there are more skirmishes between the Republic’s ground troops and the Separtists’.

Obi-Wan settles into his new environment. There isn’t the kind of routine he had at the Temple, but there are some consistencies to his days. Wake up, morning exercise and meditation, first meal, meeting with the officers, training with Rex or Alpha-17, late meal, evening mediation, sleep. There are, of course, interruptions when there’s a fight, but Obi-Wan learns to adapt to those as well.

He enjoys the camp, because there’s more open space than there is on a starship. He has never been especially fond of spaceflight, but after his time on Stewjon, he gets itchy if he can’t see the sky. Being on Christophsis, even if the corridors between tents are narrower than The Resolute, is better.

Once he’s in a place, whether it is the mess or the comm tent or even the training grounds, there is enough space for him to relax, and he becomes accustomed to having his wings out nearly all the time. He keeps them hidden, which isn’t a problem until he isn’t paying enough attention and Echo bumps into them.

Echo yelps, and Obi-Wan’s wings flash into sight as he catches glimpses of Echo’s thoughts. His knee is aching a bit after their last engagement, but it isn’t bruised or swollen and maybe he’s just imaging it and he doesn’t want to waste the medics’ time or resources. His helmet is clipped to his belt and every time he looks down, he sees the handprint, the reminder the Captain Rex chose him, singled him out, praised him for quick-thinking in Domino squad’s second, and successful test on Kamino. His foot itches and maybe it’s boot rot but no, that’s Fives being an asshole and telling gross stories when they’re trying to sleep, and Echo wants to punch Fives but he also wants to kiss him, maybe, and—

Obi-Wan rips himself out of Echo’s mind. He stumbles back, and his wings wrap around himself, protective, but it means they aren’t there to help him balance, and he falls hard on his ass.

Echo is standing where he had been, his face drained of color, his eyes as round as his mouth, jaw hanging open in shock and a little bit of horror.

“What just happened?” Cody demands, and Echo snaps to attention, locking his fear and his concern behind a blank expression.

“That was my fault,” Obi-Wan says, because Echo’s emotions dip further into fear and even though Obi-Wan doesn’t have a direct line to his head, he can guess at the cause. Echo’s afraid of whatever punishment Cody will pass down for harming a Jedi. “I wasn’t paying attention.”

“He wasn’t anywhere near you,” Rex says, and he comes up next to Cody, but next to Echo as well, blocking Cody’s direct line of sight to one of Rex’s direct reports.

“It was my fault,” Obi-Wan repeats. His wings flash again, a distressed red, solid and heavy like the warning klaxons on a ship or power plant. He curses and tucks them away, because he doesn’t need them broadcasting his lack of control to everyone in the room.

Cody frowns, his mind already working. He carefully circles Obi-Wan. When he stops, it’s in front of Obi-Wan, much closer than he had been before. “You can fold your wings inside yourself, you can display them, but there is a third state.”

“Yes.” Obi-Wan grits his teeth, but it isn’t as though Cody will stop until he has the information he wants. “I can prevent them from being visible to others.”

“Echo bumped your wings,” Cody says.

“I bumped Echo with my wings,” Obi-Wan corrects.

Cody’s looks fondly amused for a moment before he’s back to studying Obi-Wan like he’s a puzzle. “It was unpleasant.”

“It’s complicated.” Obi-Wan holds up a hand before Cody can push. He needs a moment to gather his thoughts, so he can try and explain this to someone who isn’t Force sensitive. “My wings are a manifestation of my Force presence. They collect impressions, thoughts, memories, and if I am prepared, I can guard against it. If I want to initiate contact, it can be pleasant but it’s intimate. When it is unexpected it…” Obi-Wan isn’t sure what to say.

“It’s like handling a vod’s armor without permission,” Echo says softly.

Cody and Rex both stiffen as if the analogy means something to them. It doesn’t to Obi-Wan, but he thinks their impressions are right. Echo is the only one who understands both experiences. If he draws a parallel, then Obi-Wan trusts his analysis.

“Is there a reason you keep them invisible?” Cody finally asks.

“Habit.” Obi-Wan shrugs. “I suppose secrecy is no longer an issue. It—” he allows them to spread open, back to their serene, lightsaber blue. “They aren’t physical, but it is still an effort to contain them within my body. When I can have them out, I prefer to. But they’re attention-grabbing. And, as I said, secrecy used to be a priority.”

“It isn’t any longer. If you could try to keep them visible unless circ*mstances dictate otherwise, that would be ideal. I’ll send out a memo that your wings are not to touched. It’ll be easier to avoid them if we can see them.”

Pink crawls up Obi-Wan’s wings, like the sun when it isn’t sure if it’s ready to poke its head up above the horizon. With a breath, his wings settle back to their usual blue. “I will do my best.”

“Is this another reason why shared quarters is difficult?” Cody asks.

“If my wings touch another while we’re sleeping it is less startling, but it is no less intrusive. And I have less control while I’m asleep. On Stewjon, they would sometimes sleep in groups, but my dreams…I would not wish them on anyone.”

Cody nods. He pulls one of his datapads out of their various hiding places and makes a few quick notes. He doesn’t look up from his datapad, but he’s clearly addressing Echo when he says, “This incident was a mistake brought about by a lack of information. If it is done deliberately, the vod responsible will wish they were never decanted.”

“Yes, sir,” Echo says and then gratefully flees once he’s dismissed.

Cody looks at Obi-Wan’s wings, curious, and Obi-Wan’s about to offer to touch him, to let him experience firsthand what it’s like, but then Cody shakes himself and strides out of the tent.

“Well,” Rex says. “Guess that kills that betting pool.”

“What betting pool?”

“Too many romance novels,” Rex says. “You should have heard the disappointment when beskar wings didn’t allow for huddling for warmth. There were bets on how long until you cuddled one of us.”

Obi-Wan chuckles softly. “I am capable of hugging, Captain Rex. Would you like a demonstration?”

Rex stiffens with embarrassment and holds himself tightly contained, as if he’s afraid of accidentally touching Obi-Wan. “No, sir, that’s not necessary.”

Obi-Wan wants to tell Rex it’s an offer made in good faith, wants to remind the man that he doesn’t need to address Obi-Wan as ‘sir’, but he suspects neither comment would be welcome. He nods instead, takes Rex at his word, and then sees himself out of the tent.

#

The next time Obi-Wan offers Rex a hug, the man falls into Obi-Wan’s arms and muffles a whimper against Obi-Wan’s neck. The Christophsis campaign has ended. The blockade is broken, the droid ground forces defeated or pushed back, and a garrison has been established to hold the planet even after the main GAR forces leave.

It means that tonight they mourn and honor the dead.

Mandalorians burn their dead and retire their armor. If there is a loved one, the armor is gifted to them. Sometimes, it is passed down to a family member, a way of keeping the spirit and memory of the dead alive. Over the course of the war, there will be too many dead to collect the armor.

Instead, it is symbols and sigils that are preserved and passed down. The elegant curl on Bucket’s shoulder pauldrons are now painted on Jester’s. The flowering vines that climbed Incher’s shin guards now snake around Brevan’s.

Another tradition that has been modified for the war is the Remembrances. Clans remember and recite their dead, but there are millions of vode fighting in the war, which means the death count by the end could be too high for traditional Remembrances. The Remembrances have been broken down by battalion, and Obi-Wan fears for the day they break it down further, to the company level.

None of the five Jedi assigned to The Resolute died on Christophsis, but communication came from the Second Systems Army about a surprise attack on Muunilinst. There, the first Jedi life was taken, struck down by a Separatist general that was more droid than organic and that wielded two lightsabers despite not being a Jedi.

Tonight, as they remember those who died on Christophsis, they also honor those who have died in other campaigns and battles. Obi-Wan will never know the names of all the vode who died alongside Knight Livraaana on Muunilinst, but there are those who do know their names, and he hopes they are comforted on their march, knowing their vode haven’t forgotten them.

“Is this what Jedi do?” Jesse, one of the vode attached to the 501^st stands next to Obi-Wan. They’re near the pyre which burns the bodies of dead.

“We have pyres for our dead as well,” Obi-Wan says. “Our bodies are crude matter, vessels for the soul that resides inside. When a Jedi dies, their spirit joins with the Force. We burn the body so that it too, may become part of the Force again, recycled in order to turn death into new life.”

Jesse drags his foot on the ground and makes a swirl, the same pattern that had been bright and blue on Planner’s breastplate. “They say everything happens for a reason. That the Force has a plan.”

And if the Force has a plan, why is it death? Why does it not prevent suffering? Obi-Wan hears the unasked questions. He had asked them himself, once, when he was struggling with his Jedi philosophy course. Master Jinn had struggled to answer in a way that Obi-Wan understood. It was Master Windu who pulled Obi-Wan aside and framed it in a way that soothed the ragged edges of Obi-Wan’s temper.

It had been after the Temple bombing, after Bant almost drowned, after Xanatos almost killed younglings, after Bruck and Obi-Wan dueled and then Bruck threw himself to his death. Obi-Wan wasn’t sure he wanted to dedicate his life to the Force, if the Force cared so little for its children. He didn’t mention Melida/Daan and the death there or Bandomeer and its suffering, but those events too, disrupted his understanding. Made him angry. Made him doubt.

“The Force exists,” Obi-Wan says. “It is neither good nor evil, light nor dark. It is in everything around us, it connects us, but it cannot act. The Force seeks balance, that is true. But the Force has existed and will continue to exist. What is one life when billions have existed before, and billions will exist after? What is even a hundred years compared to an eternity before and an eternity after? It is the disciples of the Force, its adherents, its guardians, its faithful who care. We are the ones who make a difference and sometimes we fail. And sometimes, even when we succeed, there is loss.”

Jesse frowns, dissatisfied with the answer.

“If you were walking down the hall with a tray and tripped, would the contents of the tray land on the ground in the same arrangement as they had been on the tray?”

Jesse shakes his head.

“The galaxy tends toward chaos, disorder. The Force seeks stability and so, when you trip, I can catch an elbow to stabilize you, or I can use the Force to hold the contents of the tray steady. And, as you might note, anyone could catch your arm. The Force doesn’t only work through those who can tap into its power. With an infinite amount of time and an infinite number of sentients, the Force cannot personally attend to everything. And so, the Force has helpers.”

“So, you do the best you can? That’s your Jedi wisdom?” Jesse’s bitterness seeps into the air around him.

“Yes,” Obi-Wan answers, even though he knows the answer won’t soothe. There is nothing that will erase the pain of loss, no wall that can keep future loss and pain from touching someone. “The galaxy tends toward chaos,” Obi-Wan repeats. “It means that there will never be a final victory. Not even all the Jedi together could halt or reverse the flow of the galaxy. The fight I have taken on as a Jedi, the cause I believe in, it will never be finished. I will do what I can as I live, and I will train others to do what I have done once I’m gone. My efforts will never be ‘enough’. I could let that knowledge break me. I could let that knowledge turn me indifferent. But after many, many years of reflection, I have learned to judge myself by other metrics.”

Obi-Wan smiles sadly and traces the spiral pattern on Jesse’s arm, using a single finger. “It is not easy. I mourn. I weep. Some days, I rage. There are those we have lost, and I will honor and remember them. But if I give in to despair, then I will only lose more.” He traces the spiral again. “There is no magic fix for grief. Even the Sith, who claim to have conquered such weaknesses, they chase immortality, so they don’t have to grieve their own loss or the deaths of those they possess and claim. Grief touches us all, Jesse. And sometimes, the only thing to do, is allow ourselves to feel it.”

“You don’t…meditate it away?” Jesse asks.

“I meditate on my grief,” Obi-Wan answers. “And once I have processed it, I do my best to release it to the Force, but it is never completely gone. A scent on the wind, the note of a song, there are many ways to spark a memory. Jedi meditate on their emotions, not to purge ourselves of them, but to cleanse them. I meditate so that I don’t lose myself to the grief, so that my next actions will be made by a clear head and not one muddled with pain or a need for revenge.”

Jesse stares at Obi-Wan’s finger, the way it loops and drags across Jesse’s armor. “I was right next to Planner. The shot could have hit me, but it didn’t. It hit him. Caught him right above his breastplate. He didn’t—I didn’t—he was dead before he hit the ground.”

“You survived.” Obi-Wan draws Jesse in for a hug, the way he had hugged Rex earlier this evening as Alpha-17 read out the names of the 501^st who had died on Christophsis.

“But why?” Jesse fists his hands in Obi-Wan’s tunics and pulls him closer. “What is the Force’s plan for me?”

Survivor’s guilt. Another heavy burden that Master Windu helped Obi-Wan carry after the Temple bombing. Obi-Wan wasn’t the most powerful Jedi and despite his attempts, he wasn’t the perfect padawan, but he was desperate to find meaning in why he had been chosen by a master and was alive when Bruck was dead. Why he had survived Melida/Daan when so many others had not.

“You lived,” Obi-Wan says, echoing what Mace had once told him. “And so, you live.”

Mace was one of the few who knew Obi-Wan wasn’t as perfect as he presented himself to be. He was the one who routinely invited Obi-Wan to his quarters for tea and to tell him, patiently, that he didn’t survive his duel with Bruck because there was a great cosmic destiny for him. Obi-Wan didn’t have to prove that he deserved to live. You lived. And so, you live. Simple and yet one of the most difficult concepts he’s ever had to learn. He isn’t sure the lesson has completely stuck, even now.

“I—I don’t—”

“It’s okay,” Obi-Wan promises, holding Jesse tighter as the trooper begins to shake and cry. “It is difficult to understand. You lived, Jesse. It is not a punishment. It is not a reward. It simply is. You lived. And so, you live. Continue to live. Help your vode when you can. Do your part to keep the galaxy from sliding into disorder.”

Kix comes looking for Jesse eventually, and he eases Jesse out of Obi-Wan’s arms and into his own. He tucks Jesse’s face against his neck and presses a kiss to the Republic crest tattoo on Jesse’s head.

It’s a quiet moment, intimate, and Obi-Wan slips away to give them privacy. He hasn’t gone far when Qui-Gon steps up to his side. Qui-Gon has always been large. He was a grown adult when Obi-Wan was a child. He was Obi-Wan’s mentor and teacher. Even now, after Obi-Wan is grown himself, and a Jedi master in his own right, a Council member, Qui-Gon still seems big.

Part of it, of course, is that Obi-Wan is fully grown, but he wasn’t blessed with great height or breadth. His wings give him more presence, but without them, his body is easily hidden by Qui-Gon’s. They are both adults, but Qui-Gon had been his teacher. He will always seem more to Obi-Wan.

For the first time in recent memory, Obi-Wan wonders what it would be like to have a padawan of his own. Would he raise them well? Would he coddle them too much after feeling as if he was always kept at a distance during his own apprenticeship? Would he be too cold, afraid of becoming attached? How does one know when they’re ready to teach?

“I heard some of what you said,” Qui-Gon says. He shows no shame at eavesdropping. “You have a deeper understanding of the Force than many Jedi.”

Obi-Wan’s wings ripple gently behind him. “I have faced difficulties and trials. Many times, I reached out to the Force for comfort. The Force doesn’t offer comfort.”

“Something did.”

“Someone,” Obi-Wan corrects. “Master Windu.”

“Mace?” Qui-Gon’s expression is baffled, amusing, because he is one of Mace’s friends. “He’s—”

“Steady,” Obi-Wan says.

“Stuffy.”

“Patient.”

“Overbearing.”

“Honest.”

Qui-Gon nods. “Yes, he is honest.”

Obi-Wan is careful to tuck his wings close as they move through the throngs of vode. They grieve in their own ways, some speaking of treasured memories, others weeping, still others staring at nothing. Obi-Wan doesn’t want to accidentally touch any of their minds.

He and Qui-Gon move away from the crowd. Away from the bodies and the fires, the cool night air brushes up against his skin. Obi-Wan shivers and wraps his wings around himself.

“I didn’t realize the two of you were close,” Qui-Gon says. They are at the edge of the forest, and Qui-Gon leans back against the trunk of a large tree.

“He was the Councilor who spoke to me after Bandomeer.” Obi-Wan wings flutter as if trying to convince him to take off and fly. “I had been assigned to the AgriCorps. You took me as your padawan, but it wasn’t official without the Council’s approval.”

Qui-Gon looks surprised, as if he’d forgotten that rule. Or, more likely, he assumed that because he didn’t care for the Council’s rules, they didn’t care for him.

“He asked me why I wanted to be a Jedi.”

“You must have given a good answer,” Qui-Gon says.

“I told him the Force had a plan for me. It was arrogant, but he didn’t scold me. He asked why I thought that. I told him about the bomb collar. That I had been willing to give my life for others, but the Force found another way. It spared me, and it must have been for a reason.”

“Obi-Wan.” Qui-Gon breathes his name, a quiet, horrified exhale.

Obi-Wan smiles. “Do you know what Mace told me?”

“You lived. And so, you live.”

“Just so. He reminded me after Melida/Daan, and then again after Bruck Chun died. I do not have a greater or lesser destiny than any other Jedi. For some, it might be a disappointment, but I’m comforted by it.”

“A lesson I wish Anakin would learn,” Qui-Gon says.

Obi-Wan lifts his eyebrows. “You named him The Chosen One. I know you believe in the prophecy, but there is no one being who will bring balance to the Force. It’s too great an ask. It’s why the Jedi Order exists, so that our cumulative efforts can work toward restoring balance. But we will never completely or permanently achieve it.”

“He’s powerful,” Qui-Gon says, as if they’re on the trip to Coruscant from Tatooine again, and he’s practicing the arguments he’ll use on the Council on Obi-Wan. “But you don’t see his power as a potential for great good. Do you still think he poses a danger to the galaxy?”

“Anyone can pose a danger,” Obi-Wan says. “I do worry at his late entry to the Temple and his temper. I worry that you took a boy who was a slave and didn’t even have possession of himself and brought him into a life where he is encouraged to claim and own nothing. But.” Obi-Wan meets Qui-Gon’s gaze. “I can think of no better teacher and guide for him.”

“Because of Xanatos?” Qui-Gon’s lips twist into a frown, as if he’s used to references to his second padawan. “As Mace has pointed out, more than once, I was blinded by my feelings for Xanatos and missed the obvious signs.”

“You aren’t blind anymore,” Obi-Wan says. “Not because of Xanatos. Because of Tahl.” They rarely speak of her, the woman Qui-Gon loved. Qui-Gon looks away, but Obi-Wan doesn’t give him the mercy of ending their conversation. “You almost Fell when she died. You have seen the darkness in yourself. You’ll recognize it in others now.”

“I—” Qui-Gon runs a hand through his long hair. His gaze is troubled. “I think Yan has touched the darkness.”

“Dooku? Just what we need, a Sith on the side of the Separatists.”

“You know there’s a difference between gray and dark and Sith,” Qui-Gon says.

“He warned you that the Republic was under the control of a powerful Sith lord. How would he know unless he had met that Sith lord? And he asked you to join him. Maybe, he framed it so you would think he wanted you on the side of the Separatists, but it isn’t what he wanted. Master and apprentice, but not Jedi.”

“I would never,” Qui-Gon says, and Obi-Wan believes him. What would Dooku think if he knew Qui-Gon had been tempted for fall for a dead woman, but would stand resolute against his own master?

“He will try again,” Obi-Wan says. “Sith are selfish. Possessive. You were his apprentice, and he will want you again.”

Qui-Gon sighs and closes his eyes. “I wasn’t a good padawan the first time around. I doubt I would be better now, as an adult. Did you know, with Xanatos, I wanted to be a better master to him than Yan had been to me. I tried to be attentive, caring, loving. I fear I swung to the opposite extreme with you.”

“And you’ve found your balance with Anakin?”

“Hardly. I spoil him, I know. But it isn’t only for him. I severed all connection to my first padawan. My second died. My third exiled himself. I’m not sure I will take another padawan after Anakin. I would like to have at least one who will visit me in my dotage.”

“You aren’t that old,” Obi-Wan says. “And I didn’t exile myself. I was needed elsewhere, and so I left. And now, I am needed here.” Obi-Wan steps forward, until he is in Qui-Gon’s space and can rest a hand on the man’s arm. “We had our struggles, but I am proud to call you master.”

“And when you raise a padawan of your own? Will your teachings be in defiance of mine?” Qui-Gon draws Obi-Wan in until their bodies are fitted together. He doesn’t hug Obi-Wan, mindful of the wings which flare up behind him, but they do touch.

“I always thought I would raise a padawan with Quinlan.”

Qui-Gon jerks back, but he’s trapped between the tree and Obi-Wan. “That poor child. Their poor teachers.”

Obi-Wan laughs and rests his head on Qui-Gon’s shoulder. If he closes his eyes, it’s almost as if they’re in their quarters at the Temple and Obi-Wan is a teenager again. “We talked about it. How it was an unspoken rule that padawans were to have only one master, and we couldn’t be forbidden from doing it. I was accused of being too serious and Quinlan of not being serious enough. We thought we would balance each other out. He asked me for advice about Aayla. I got ahold of her comm information and sent her my advice directly. She sewed sleeves onto all his tunics one night while he was sleeping.”

“And now?” Qui-Gon asks.

“It is a great responsibility to raise a child alone,” Obi-Wan says. “I’m not sure I want it. Perhaps with two masters, the padawan would only get the best of them. I suppose we’ll have to see what the Order looks like once this war is over.”

“You think it will change us so much?”

Obi-Wan feels the heavy press of certainty. There is a wave above him, and if it crests, it will pull him into a vision. He brings his wings up as if he can shield himself from it. But the Force crashes over him and sweeps him under.

Blaster bolts.

Laser cannons.

The entire ground seems to shake under his feet.

Men in white armor who fire on the enemy, only for the enemy’s helmets to fall off and reveal vode in the wrong armor. There are screams for the dead and screams for those who killed them.

He sees his own death, his body still and cold before the flames lap at his pyre. Qui-Gon weeps openly. Anakin clutches his hand tightly and dabs at his eyes.

Obi-Wan is alive again. Alive and then he hears a raspy voice. Execute Order 66. There is a blaster bolt, it hits him in the chest. He tumbles off a cliff and—

Sand. Sand everywhere. But only sand. No people. No vode, no Jedi. Obi-Wan is alone. Not even the Force comforts him. It twists and screams, weighted with darkness.

Obi-Wan gasps as he sits up. There’s a hand on his chest to caution him against sudden movement, but he doesn’t want to be restrained. He growls, grabs the wrist and then shoves the person it’s attached to. Qui-Gon grunts as he falls on his ass.

Obi-Wan leaps to his feet. His wings fan out behind him. And then he stumbles, dizzy after his vision. The way he was as a padawan, which Qui-Gon certainly remembered.

“Sorry,” Obi-Wan says. His voice is scratchy, sore. He touches his throat.

“You didn’t make a sound,” Cody says. He hands Obi-Wan a water bottle. There is no judgement or pity in his gaze. A hint of curiosity, a large helping of concern. After he hands Obi-Wan the water, he steps back.

Obi-Wan’s wings curl toward him. He sips the water. “I didn’t make a sound, but I was screaming.” He rubs his throat again. He’s glad his collapse didn’t attract too much attention. That or Qui-Gon and Cody chased the gawkers away. Right now, it is only the two of them, with Anakin hovering nervously nearby.

Qui-Gon slowly stands. He holds his hands out in a gesture of peace.

“The war will change us,” Obi-Wan says. “It will change all of us.”

Qui-Gon releases his disquiet to the Force. “Come meditate with me.”

Obi-Wan glances at Cody. He feels a flash of memory, the certainty of something that hasn’t happened yet. He jerks back, stumbles, is caught by Qui-Gon’s strong hands. “Tell me,” Obi-Wan says, demands, really.

Qui-Gon studies Obi-Wan’s face. He brushes Obi-Wan’s hair and tucks it behind his ears. “Do not center on your anxieties, padawan.”

Obi-Wan bows his head. He speaks the next words in unison with his former master. “The future is always in motion.”

Chapter 7

Chapter Text

They leave Christophsis to the garrison that came to hold and defend it. The Resolute is deployed to Lorta, a planet that had been full of religious fanatics back in the Old Republic days. They channeled their fanaticism into a conquering spirit that would have made them respected rivals of the old Mandalorian Empire. There is still a lingering aggression to the planets’ natives, and they use it against the Separatists, furious they would dare try and conquer them.

On Lorta, they fight with numbers depleted from Christophsis. With the war kicking off suddenly and on multiple fronts, none of their battalions are at full fighting strength. They push the Separatists back and when The Goran arrives, it’s with a battalion to man the garrison and enough vode to round out the numbers in the 212^th, the 501^st, the 442^nd, and The Resolute.

It’s on Cyphar that one of the shinies now part of the 501^st gets his name. Obi-Wan is fighting alongside the Cyphari, defending a Twi’lek settlement, when Jesse’s voice bellows out, angry but mostly frightened.

“DUCK!” Jesse shouts.

The shiny drops and a hail of blasterbolts fly over his head. Obi-Wan leaps in to defend the shiny as he regains his footing. Later, after the fighting is done for the day, Obi-Wan spots Jesse as he pulls the shiny into a headlock and drags him toward the mess tent. The shiny wriggles but doesn’t try too hard to escape Jesse’s hold.

“Stop calling me Duck,” the shiny whines.

“I’ll f*cking call you Duck until you get it through your skull.” Jesse raps his knuckles on Duck’s helmet. “Do you think I want to add more names to my Remembrances?”

Jesse hauls Duck into the mess tent, and his grumbling is lost to the noise of vode eating and talking over one another. Obi-Wan’s standing in place, watching the spot Jesse and Duck used to be, when Cody steps up next to him.

“Tough love,” Cody says, an explanation, but more than that, a statement of fact. There’s no room for Obi-Wan’s judgement, if he had any.

“Affection takes many forms,” Obi-Wan says. Quinlan preferred teasing. Bant coaxed Obi-Wan into eating his favorite foods. Garen was into physical affection—hugs and shoulder slaps and occasionally tackling Obi-Wan off the couch to wrestle him into a hug. Master Qui-Gon’s affection had been hard-earned, and its value was in its rarity.

On Stewjon affection was…open. With everyone’s wings out and on display, affection was in the rich golds of others’ feathers and the brush of wings to share warm emotions. Obi-Wan is curious what Kamino was like. He’s equally curious to see if Cody will share with him, an outsider.

The Jedi have so far maintained their position as outside contractors. They aid the Grand Army of the Republic, but they don’t have military titles. Their suggestions are listened to but not automatically accepted as orders. There are many strategy meetings Obi-Wan is not invited to and communications he isn’t alerted to. While he was the one who wanted the Jedi to maintain as much distance from the military as possible, it does set the Jedi apart from their vode counterparts.

A few vode pass by with a weary set to their shoulders. Obi-Wan tucks his wings in and feels his own sore muscles wince in sympathy as the vode snap to attention and salute Cody when they spot him. Cody sends them on their way and then heads to a more remote area of the camp. Obi-Wan follows.

There is a stack of crates, and Obi-Wan is glad to have something to lean on, his forearms braced on the flat top of the boxes, his wings stretched out behind him.

“The trainers—the Cuy’val Dar—they were hard on us because they were assholes.” Cody leans against a stack of crates as well, but he rests his back against the tower. He folds his arms over his chest. He closes his eyes as if he could fall asleep like this. “The Alphas were hard on us because they wanted us to live. For a lot of the vode, they imitate what they experienced.” Eyes still closed, Cody smiles, at some memory. “We used to joke that it was lucky Alpha-17 didn’t name us Di’kut-1, Di’kut-2.”

“His personal squad is the Di’kut squad,” Obi-Wan says, because he remembers Anakin whining about Rex telling him he was a good fit for it.

“That’s because they are di’kute. They’re all volunteers.” Cody’s smile grows. It fades a little as he opens his eyes. His fingers trace the curve of his scar. “I haven’t told you how I got this.”

“I’ve heard stories,” Obi-Wan says. “None of them sounded true.”

“Hmm.” Cody looks Obi-Wan over. “Jesse told you I built a fort of datapads on my desk until one day they fell on me.” He smiles a little at Obi-Wan’s nod. “Rex I’m sure told a banthash*t story about beating me in a fight.”

“He couldn’t keep a straight face as he lied,” Obi-Wan confirmed.

Cody’s smile grows, fondness softening the hard lines around his face. He breathes out, humor fading into something more serious. “Mandalorians believe in rule by conquest. It was true in the days of the Empire, and it’s continued through the rule of the Mand’alor. We learned our—the Prime’s history. From him, from the Cuy’val Dar. A lot of the trainers were Mandalorians, but there weren’t enough Haat Mando’ade after Galidraan. There were two Death Watch to round out the numbers. Dred Priest was one of them.”

Obi-Wan knows what it looks like to be haunted by memories, by specters that can cause harm even when they aren’t around any longer. “What happened?”

“He trained one of the younger groups. Lieutenants. He told them Mandalorians believed in survival of the fittest. Pitted them against each other to see what would happen. I challenged him for the right to train them.” Cody’s expression turns sharp. “I won. I killed him and earned my first command. And my name. When the Prime found out what I did, he clasped my shoulder and called me Kote. Alpha-17’s the one who started calling me Cody. Pretended he didn’t understand the Prime’s accent when he tried to correct him.”

Clones of Jango Fett, raised in part by Jango Fett himself, and who have created lives in defiance of him. Obi-Wan wonders if their willingness to work with Jedi is part of that. Will they care for the Jedi Order as much as Fett despises it?

Obi-Wan is afraid to move and disturb their moment and so he allows his wings to reach out toward Cody in lieu of his body. He doesn’t touch Cody, but he’s close enough that if Cody wanted, he could touch Obi-Wan.

“You trained Hawke,” Obi-Wan says.

“What makes you say that?” Cody asks. It isn’t an agreement or disagreement.

“We learn from our teachers,” Obi-Wan says. “You fought for them, put yourself in danger to try and keep them safe. I see that reflected in Hawke’s leadership style.”

Cody jerks, surprised. He looks at Obi-Wan’s wing, hovering near him. It’s Obi-Wan’s turn to be surprised as Cody brushes the knuckles of two fingers against Obi-Wan’s feathers. Obi-Wan can’t help but shiver at the touch. He feels it, in his mind and as if Cody touched a physical part of him.

“Hawke and Firebird,” Cody admits. “Waxer and Trident from the 212^th. Some others you haven’t met.” Slowly, he shifts until half his weight is against the stack of crates and the other half is supported by Obi-Wan’s wing. His surface thoughts are pleasant; pride in his vode, amusem*nt at their antics, the kind of fond exasperation Obi-Wan associates with training and teaching.

Cody continues to stroke his two knuckles against Obi-Wan’s wings, as if he’s smoothing the feathers. Obi-Wan doesn’t have to groom his wings like avians do. He doesn’t oil them carefully after battle like the vode with wingpacks do. He isn’t sure what Cody’s doing has any practical purpose, but it feels good. Almost hypnotizing.

“Have you trained anyone?” Cody asks.

“Not in the traditional sense. I’ve never taken a padawan. But I’ve taught classes at the Temple. I’ve mentored a few lost souls on the Outer Rim.”

Cody pulls his fingers back but not before Obi-Wan catches a faint trace of guilt. “I heard you speaking with Master Jinn on Christophsis. You don’t want to raise a padawan alone.” He shifts so he’s leaning against the crates again. Obi-Wan takes the hint and retracts his wings. “I don’t know what I would have done without Alpha-17’s help when I took over Priest’s group.”

“The nice thing about teaching Temple classes was that there was always another adult to send the students to when I was finished.”

“And your Outer Rim ‘lost souls’?”

“They often didn’t have anyone else. And they came and went as they pleased.” Orphans. Thieves. Kids caught up in gangs, because they were safer in groups than they were alone. Obi-Wan helped those he could, but he didn’t raise any of them.

“It doesn’t bother you? Knowing you touched their lives but will never see them again?”

“I might see them again. But no, it doesn’t bother me that I might not. If I did raise a padawan, I would be expected to part with them when they were knighted. Our paths might cross, but they would no longer be intertwined.”

“Like you and Master Jinn?”

“Just so.”

Cody blows out an aggravated breath. “Is it worth making him fill out reports?”

It isn’t the question Obi-Wan’s expecting, and he can’t help his startled laugh. “I certainly never tried. I’m pretty sure the Council knew I was writing our mission reports, but they were too relieved to be getting any kind of paperwork to call me out on it.”

“They enabled him. Alpha-17 says Padawan Skywalker is still young enough to teach.”

Obi-Wan winces on Anakin’s behalf. “I can try and talk to him. Either of them, I suppose.”

“I’ve learned there are some fights not worth having. And I think Alpha-17’s beginning to wear Padawan Skywalker down.”

Obi-Wan worries sometimes, about that relationship. Anakin resents being told what to do, and Alpha-17 is a commander who expects obedience.

#

Anakin and Alpha-17 almost come to blows on Karfeddion. Obi-Wan is with the Winged Company, providing aerial support to the 212^th for the inciting incident, but everyone, it seems, is there for the aftermath.

They’re back at base camp, and Anakin is a dark cloud of fury. He stalks away from Alpha-17, and even Obi-Wan shies away from Anakin’s temper. Alpha-17, of course, follows him. Across the area they’re in, Qui-Gon breaks away from Captain Gregor, as if he’s preparing to intervene.

“I don’t need another Sith-damned lecture!” Anakin snaps.

Alpha-17, unfazed by either his speedy retreat or his anger, easily catches up to Anakin. “Seems like you do. You went off on your own.”

Anakin pauses to smirk, that kind of I know better than you smirk that makes Obi-Wan grind his teeth. “No battle plan survives contact with the enemy.”

Alpha-17 moves so he’s blocking Anakin’s path. He doesn’t fold his arms over his chest, as if he wants his hands loose to grab a weapon if needed. “We have comms. If the plan needs to change, you run it by someone.”

“Is that an order?” Anakin’s temper is tinder, searching for the lightest of sparks.

“It’s a gods-damned order,” Alpha-17 says. He shifts so he continues to block Anakin’s path, an unmovable object in the way of an unstoppable force. Qui-Gon starts jogging to reach them faster. “You aren’t a slave here,” Alpha-17 says. “I’m not your master, I’m your commanding officer. If you choose to be a part of the GAR, you do what you’re told.”

Anakin opens his mouth. Closes it. “What?” he asks weakly.

“The Jedi weren’t conscripted,” Alpha-17 says. “If you fight alongside us, it’s your choice. But that doesn’t mean you’re allowed to be a loose cannon. You follow orders. And, if you need to make a change because war is unpredictable, you follow procedure.”

Qui-Gon slows his steps, as if he doesn’t think Alpha-17 is in danger from Anakin anymore. But he frowns, unhappy with something. Obi-Wan lingers on the edge of the conversation, prepared to intervene if he’s needed, but he doesn’t think he will be.

“What’s the procedure for deviating from the battle plan?”

“Inform the nearest commanding officer, the battalion commander, and the comm officer,” Anakin repeats dutifully. And then, without being prompted, “which would have been Captain Charge, you, and Relay. But we didn’t know there was a tank! I flipped it and took out two platoons of droids.”

“I knew there was a tank,” Alpha-17 says. “Relay knew there was tank. We deployed a starfighter squad to handle it. If I had known you were handling it, I would have directed them somewhere else we needed help. At the very least, I would have warned them they were flying into Force sh*t.”

Anakin’s guilt and fear are as loud as his anger had been. “Is anyone hurt?”

“The pilots are all fine. Potshot’s starfighter took some damage. I hear you’re good with mechanical work.”

“I am. I’ll go help fix it.” Anakin starts to take a step and then pauses. “With your permission.”

“Go,” Apha-17 says and Anakin jogs off in the direction of their makeshift starfighter bay. He turns and finds Qui-Gon with ease, as if he knew where the man lurked the entire conversation. He makes a deliberate come here motion with his hand.

“You have no right,” Qui-Gon begins, but Alpha-17 shuts him down with a hard look.

“I have every right. I will tell you the same thing I told him. The Jedi have a choice in this war, the vode do not. Sit with your kid, meditate, and decide whether or not you’re part of this war. If you stay, you both follow the chain of command. And yes, that means I have the right to discipline your kid. You’re dismissed, Master Jedi.”

#

It feels like as soon as Karfeddion is secure, The Resolute is deployed again. It’s a short jump to Dorvalla, which means they don’t even have the downtime of spaceflight. They take care of business quickly and then move on to Eriadu.

Eriadu is home to deep, rich veins of lommite ore. It’s expensive to extract and even more expensive to ship, which means the natives took on larger and larger loans until they were too in debt to ever pull themselves out. The Trade Federation has made itself comfortable on Eriadu, and The Resolute deploys its soldiers with the primary focus of ridding Eriadu of its corporate owners and their droids.

“We have a reputation now,” Jesse says after the first day of fighting. The 501^st deployed separately from the 212^th and 442^nd. It was the 501^st who was sent to the Trade Federation’s stronghold.

There was no finesse, no careful strategy to this fight. It was sheer, brute force.

“The Holonet calls us the Republic’s Fist,” Fives chimes in. He has some new scorchmarks on his armor, but he smiles brightly as he tucks into his meal. “We’re called in whenever someone needs a good pounding.”

Echo laughs at the wrong time and ends up snorting water out of his nose.

“Make sure to tuck your thumb in,” Droidbait says with a grin of his own.

“What?” Crow sits down at their table. He frowns a little as he makes a fist. “The trainers always said thumb on the outside or you'd break it.”

“Wrong kind of fisting,” Jesse says and then joins in the laughter.

Alpha-17, who is standing with Obi-Wan, Rex, Charger, and the other two captains, looks like he wishes they were on The Resolute so he could space the whole battalion. Jesse and Echo have now roped Kix into their conversation as they explain to poor Crow what they mean by fisting.

“How’d he see action without knowing that?” Charger asks.

“Must have seen a different kind of action,” Rex says with an impressively straight face. Rex made the mistake of being in reach of Alpha-17 and earns a hard hit to the back of the head for his comment. He rubs the spot and mumbles an apology that is ruined by the smile threatening to break out across his face.

“Just think,” Obi-Wan says, and Alpha-17 turns to him. “If you did space your whole battalion, they’d replace them with shinies, and the maturity level would be even lower.”

Alpha-17 grumbles something about Kamino breeding out all respect and then stomps off to terrorize a squad of sergeants.

#

The 501^st punches through the Trade Federation’s stronghold while the 212^th infiltrates and takes over the mines. It’s almost a full week before they have reliable communication between the two battalions. It’s another two days before Cody joins them at their temporary headquarters.

He looks tired but not as if he was recently fighting for his life. He waves off Obi-Wan’s concern then he scowls when Alpha-17 gives him the same onceover. “It’s politics,” he says and Alpha-17 makes a show of checking his comm as if he has urgent business to attend to.

“Anything I can assist with?” Obi-Wan asks.

“Eriadu is the home world of one of the natborn captains. A Wilhuff Tarkin.”

“He works with Even Piell,” Obi-Wan says.

“He’s demanding status updates every four hours as if I don’t have more important things to do.”

“Send his messages to me,” Obi-Wan says. “You do have more important things to do, and I was trained for diplomacy.”

Cody looks like he thinks he should protest, but Tarkin must really be bothering him, because he nods and then cedes responsibility of the mess to Obi-Wan. Obi-Wan didn’t think Cody had been exaggerating when he said Tarkin was demanding continuous updates, but he’s still a little amazed when the next request for information comes in exactly four hours after the last.

Obi-Wan responds with the comm code for the GAR communications’ office. All official reports go through GARCO and can be accessed depending on the requester’s security access. Obi-Wan isn’t surprised when his message is responded to with a demand for a video call.

Wilhuff Tarkin is a stern man who looks slight when he tucks his hands behind his back, as if he’s clasping his wrist. His eyes narrow when he sees Obi-Wan answering his call and not Cody. “What is the meaning of this?” Tarkin asks.

His tone is haughty, indignant, as if he’s being denied a basic right instead of demanding privileges he has no right to. Obi-Wan settles into his own stance, hands in front of him, tucked into his robes, the serene Jedi master. “I thought my communication was clear. If you would like updates on Eriadu, you may access them through GARCO in accordance with your security clearance.”

“Those are delayed and redacted to the point of being nearly useless,” Tarkin says. “Just because the clones don’t understand having a home world to care about doesn’t mean the rest of us don’t.”

Any sympathy Obi-Wan had for Tarkin and his situation, far away from his home, fighting but for someone else’s planet, evaporates. His tone is clipped and cool. “Captain Tarkin,” Obi-Wan emphasizes his rank, “you seem to be acting under misinformation, so I will clear it up for you. The Marshal Commander of the 3^rdSystems Army is not your personal secretary or comms officer. If you want to be updated on the status of the war, you may request those updates through the proper channels. If you try and contact Commander Cody again for personal reasons, I will recommend your commanding officer give you a refresher in GAR protocol and procedures.”

“You’re a Jedi, aren’t you?” Tarkin tucks his anger behind a placid mask, but there’s something cold and calculating in his gaze. “You don’t have a home world either.”

Obi-Wan’s glad his wings are hidden for this conversation. “I am a Jedi. The vow I took when I became a knight was to defend the galaxy. That is my mandate, to protect every planet that needs protection, regardless of any personal connection. Is there anything else I can assist you with today, Captain Tarkin?”

“I didn’t catch your name,” Tarkin says.

He looks like the kind of man who maintains a list of those who have wronged him and takes great pleasure in returning that wrong at least tenfold. Obi-Wan will make sure to keep this Captain Tarkin on his own radar in case of retaliation.

“Obi-Wan Kenobi.” Obi-Wan bows. “Jedi Master and Councilor.”

Tarkin looks as though he’s eaten something sour. If Obi-Wan had been a padawan or even a knight, would Tarkin have tried to bully Obi-Wan into doing what he wants? Once the call concludes, Obi-Wan seeks out Comm Officer Telegram, the primary comm officer for the 212^th. He named himself after an ancient communication device that on Mandalore could convert dadita into words across long distances.

He's in the comm center. They managed not to destroy the stronghold too badly, which means they can now take advance of things like comm centers and water showers and a base with a mostly solid perimeter defense already in place.

“Master Kenobi.” Telegram doesn’t salute, but he does straighten his spine, as if Obi-Wan is a commanding officer.

Obi-Wan has learned that the vode had their manners and behavior quite literally drilled into them. He responds with a polite bow, an equal offer of respect and recognition. “I just finished a call with Captain Tarkin. Please continue to forward all calls from him to my number and please inform me if he tries to contact someone else.”

Telegram’s smile is sharp, as if he’s more than happy to follow this order. “I will. Is there anything I should know from the call?”

No doubt, Telegram and Cody both know that Tarkin holds little respect for the vode. Even if they didn’t, Obi-Wan isn’t going to tell them. “I told him to direct all future requests for information through the proper channels. If you want to warn your vode at GARCO, I leave that decision up to you.”

“I’ll let them know what to expect. Commander Cody went to inspect the northern gate.”

“Did he?” The northern gate had to be rebuilt after Fives and his explosives got a crack at it. “And he wanted to see me?”

Telegram’s fingers fly over the console keys at his station. He focuses on his screen with the kind of attention that means he’s trying to avoid looking at Obi-Wan. “I thought you might want to see him.”

Obi-Wan does. He almost always wants to see Cody. He isn’t sure how he feels about being so transparent to the vode. And, after just running interference on someone trying to demand too much of Cody’s time, Obi-Wan isn’t about to do the same. “I should check in with Captain Rex.”

“Of course.” Telegram’s tone doesn’t reveal disappointment. He taps a few more times and then tells Obi-Wan where he can find Rex.

Obi-Wan finds Rex finishing up at the impromptu training grounds. He wipes a towel over the back of his neck, which is not a substitute for a proper shower. Rex grins as if he can hear the lecture Obi-Wan’s holding back. “I’ll hit the showers before bed, promise. But I hear Cody’s inspecting the northern gate, and I want to get there before he starts bitching about Fives’s penchant for blowing sh*t up again.”

“I wasn’t aware anything Commander Cody did could be described as ‘bitching’,” Obi-Wan says. It looks as though he’ll be seeing Cody regardless. He isn’t sorry to have the excuse.

Rather than looking chastised, Rex only grins brighter. “You haven’t seen him around Fox yet. Or Wolffe. I’m pretty sure he sent Wolffe to the other side of the galaxy so he could be someone else’s headache.”

“Wolffe is with Plo Koon,” Obi-Wan says. He met Wolffe on Kamino. “And Fox is stationed on Coruscant, I believe.”

“Coruscant guard. The worst position out there. Couldn’t have happened to a better vod.” Rex catches the look on Obi-Wan’s face and elbows him lightly to try and make him laugh. “There aren’t any pain in the ass Jedi? No one you want to bury on an Outer Rim assignment?”

“By that definition, I think I’m the pain in the ass Jedi,” Obi-Wan says.

“You chose to set up on the Outer Rim,” Rex says, defensive, as if he thinks Obi-Wan needs defending from himself.

“I did. I was well-suited to the work there.”

“What was your first assignment after Stewjon?” Rex asks.

Obi-Wan talks about his mission, and it carries them to the northern gate where Cody is studying how the Republic materials blend with Trade Federation ones. It’s obvious it’s two different styles layered on top of each other. It’s an obvious point of attack for an enemy, a glaring weakness, but if the enemy reaches their gates, they have bigger problems than how easily the gates will fall.

Cody looks up at they approach. He wrinkles his nose once Rex is in smelling distance.

“Yes, fine, I’ll go shower,” Rex says. At Cody’s raised eyebrows, he amends it to, “Permission to go shower, sir?”

“Permission granted,” Cody says. “Make sure to use soap.”

Rex grumbles about overbearing older brothers and heads out. Obi-Wan considers that Telegram sent Obi-Wan to Rex and Rex brought Obi-Wan to Cody, and then he pushes the thought out of his head.

“Captain Tarkin shouldn’t bother you again,” Obi-Wan says.

“Oh?” Now Obi-Wan is treated to the raised eyebrows.

“And if he has any complaints about how he has been treated, those complaints will be directed to the Jedi Council, not your GAR superiors. Though, I do admit that I’d like to see the Chancellor’s reaction to a petty complaint from Tarkin.”

“I have other superiors,” Cody says.

“Not many.” Obi-Wan sighs happily as he stretches his wings out. “When was the last scout team sent out?”

“You’re as bad as Rex,” Cody says, but he doesn’t sound upset. “I’ll make sure Bowie takes you with his squad when their rotation comes up. In the meantime, I want your opinion on how the Trade Federation will react. You had firsthand dealings with them on Naboo.”

Obi-Wan nods and walks with Cody back through the camp as they discuss the probability of Trade Federation retaliation and what that might look like.

Chapter 8

Chapter Text

Once Eriadu is thoroughly claimed for the Republic, The Resolute packs up and moves on. Obi-Wan would like to believe that Eriadu is now a Republic planet for life because of the GAR’s assistance in tossing out the Trade Federation’s standing army or because of the fortified base now staffed by the 101^st battalion, but Obi-Wan is too smart to believe that. With the Trade Federation affiliated with the Separatists, they are officially an enemy of the Republic. And that means, for as long as Eriadu is a Republic planet, their debts to the Trade Federation will be forgiven, and the Republic will protect them against forcible collection.

Eriadu is now the responsibility of the 101^st, which means Obi-Wan spoke with their commander and senior comm officer to warn them about the Captain Tarkin situation. The 101^st, given that theirs will be a long-term posting, has decided to take a less antagonistic approach to Tarkin.

For his part, Obi-Wan received a message from Mace reminding him that they have enough enemies without making enemies of their allies. He also received a message from Chancellor Palpatine to express his concern for Obi-Wan’s mental wellbeing, because he thought Jedi had more patience and kindness than Obi-Wan had displayed toward Tarkin.

But Eriadu and Tarkin are behind them, and The Resolute makes its new orbit around Naboo. Obi-Wan has his fair share of unpleasant memories of this planet and more than one of his nightmares first spawned here.

He isn’t officially part of the GAR, so he isn’t aware of all the details regarding the war. As soon as he realizes where they are, he goes to the starboard bridge. Commanders Cody and Alpha-17 are both on the bridge with Admiral Kal’ika. They all turn at his entrance, but Alpha-17 and Kal’ika resume their conversation after they note who has entered.

Cody’s gaze lingers on Obi-Wan, his eyes softening with something that might be pity. Obi-Wan approaches their group, slowly enough that they can tell him to leave or stop discussing anything classified. Cody angles his body to make room for Obi-Wan between him and Alpha-17.

“Naboo?” Obi-Wan asks, even though it’s obvious given the view from the bridge. “Was there an attack?” He isn’t so disconnected from the galaxy that he would have missed something that large. At least, he hopes he isn’t. If anything, Anakin would have let him know if something had happened to Naboo.

“There is no active threat,” Cody answers. “But it is a planet of strategic import, and it has been a target of the Trade Federation in the past.”

“And we just kicked the hornet’s nest on Eriadu,” Obi-Wan says.

“And we have another team kicking the one on Enarc,” Alpha-17 says.

Enarc, Obi-Wan knows from his studies, is a planet of extremely high importance. It’s located on the confluence of the Hydian Way and the Corellian run. It’s also the endpoint of the Enarc run and provides one of the most common jumping off points to reach the Outer Rim. It’s important for trade routes and for travel. It’s also currently under the control of the Trade Federation.

Obi-Wan doesn’t doubt that the GAR will claim the planet. It means two attacks on Trade Federation planets in short order. If they wanted to retaliate, Naboo would be obvious target. It had been the focus of an invasion a decade ago, and Nute Gunray at least has never forgiven Padmé Amidala for breaking the blockade or embarrassing him and weakening his power. His grudge was apparent in the bounty he put out on her, and his grudge has only grown with her successfully evading death.

Obi-Wan considers what he remembers from studying star charts for hours. He knows where Enarc is situated. Past Naboo if The Resolute had continued beyond the peaceful planet. He thinks about their recent campaigns; Lorta, Cyphar, Karfeddion, Eriadu, and now Naboo. With another part of the fleet handling Enarc. It’s a clear and obvious trajectory. He can’t believe it escaped his notice before.

“We’re establishing a perimeter,” Obi-Wan says.

“Yes,” Cody answers. “The Third Systems Army is responsible for the southern perimeter. The First is handling the eastern perimeter, and the Second and Fifth are securing the northern one.”

Alpha-17 snorts derisively, but he doesn’t expand on his opinion.

“You’re making sure planets on important trade and supply routes are secured,” Obi-Wan says. He pulls up the charts for their section of the galaxy. It looks even more obvious now that he can connect the dots between their campaigns. “We’re more Mid Rim than I would have expected. Is the plan to firmly establish a defensive perimeter and then push outward?”

“No,” Cody answers. He glances at Alpha-17 and Kal’ika. They both give the slightest of nods. Cody taps a few buttons and suddenly there are colors on the star charts. Gold for planets already secured by the GAR, a lighter yellow for those in the process of being secured. Beyond the southern perimeter, the planets in the Outer Rim are marked with green, blue, and black.

The black is easy for Obi-Wan to figure out. Geonosis is a black planet. Black for being Separatist. He isn’t sure what the green and blue are for.

“Blue for unknown allegiance but leaning Separatist,” Cody tells him, “Green for unknown allegiance but leaning Republic.”

Obi-Wan still doesn’t completely understand. There’s a piece he’s missing, an important one, but for all that he stares at the map, the Force doesn’t give him the answer.

“Secession is legal,” Alpha-17 says. “The Grand Army of the Republic was made to defend the Republic, not conquer the galaxy. If a planet decides to peacefully secede, we won’t force them back into the Republic.”

It’s…Alpha-17 is right, but Obi-Wan has seen enough politics to know that right isn’t often what drives action. “Is your position common knowledge?” Obi-Wan asks.

Alpha-17 grins, sharp and edged, as if he knows what Obi-Wan is truly asking. “The Chancellor expressed his disapproval. I told him that adding to and maintaining the Republic is his responsibility, not ours. He expressed his disapproval with that as well.”

Obi-Wan ignores Alpha-17’s smugness and Cody’s frustration as he continues to stare at the star charts. “It’s odd. Chancellor Palpatine became chancellor in large part because of the Republic’s loss of faith after Chancellor Valorum failed to respond to the Naboo Invasion in a productive or timely fashion. It wasn’t entirely Valorum’s fault. The Republic isn’t meant to move quickly, even when immediate action is needed. You’d think Chancellor Palpatine would have made efforts to make sure Valorum’s downfall wouldn’t be his own. Planets are seceding. Because they feel as though the Republic is too focused on the Inner Rim planets and is too slow in responding to the needs of planets which don’t have political sway.”

“He’s making efforts now,” Cody says, and there’s a deep frown line wedged in his forehead. “His emergency powers grow by the session.”

“But as Alpha-17 said, the GAR isn’t intended to be a conquering force. The only way to force submission to the Republic is to keep a constant garrison stationed, and even that isn’t a long-term solution. It will cause resentment and rebellion. If Chancellor Palpatine wants the Republic’s numbers to grow, he should address the grievances of the planets that are leaving.”

“Which is what I told him,” Alpha-17 says.

“With none of Councilor Kenobi’s tact or politeness,” Cody says. “Naboo is a delicate situation. It’s important to establish a presence here, but it’s a planet with a history of peace. Queen Neeyutnee has promised to assist us in setting up the necessary defenses on her planet. She and Senator Amidala plan to welcome us when we land. She indicated that you would know what that entailed.”

Obi-Wan manages not to groan, but he can’t keep his displeasure entirely off his face. “It means a big formal ceremony, and Naboo really likes their ceremonies.” Obi-Wan scrubs his hand over his beard and wonders if he even has anything appropriate to wear to a Nubian Welcoming Ceremony. “This will be the first time Qui-Gon, Anakin, and I have been on Naboo at the same time since the invasion.”

“The Heroes of Naboo,” Cody says with a glance at his briefing.

Obi-Wan’s wings flutter, unsettled. “We did our duty.” Obi-Wan rubs his beard again. Memories threaten to rise up and overwhelm him. “This planet holds many memories for me. It’s where I earned my knighting. And it’s where I almost lost Qui-Gon.”

In some ways, he did lose Qui-Gon here. Not to death, and Obi-Wan will thank the Force every evening for it, but Naboo was the end of Obi-Wan’s apprenticeship. Qui-Gon already had his next padawan picked out, and Obi-Wan defeated the Sith that almost slew his master.

Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon first went to Naboo the two of them to investigate the Trade Federation. Obi-Wan was a senior padawan, and he knew his Trials could come at any time. He didn’t expect to flee the planet with the queen herself. He didn’t expect to seek shelter on Tatooine. Her certainly didn’t expect Master Jinn to leave the ship to bargain for new parts and return with a young boy.

There are many who say Obi-Wan’s defeat of Maul was his Trial, but Obi-Wan knows differently. His Trial began when Qui-Gon ushered young Anakin Skywalker onboard. Obi-Wan almost failed then and there. He was angry, bitter and betrayed, and he allowed his hurt to make him cruel. Anakin was a slave who didn’t have anything, not even his own self. All he had was his mother’s love, and that love sent him far away from her, thrown into space with strangers. Instead of offering comfort, Obi-Wan rebuffed the boy.

Obi-Wan can admit now that he was jealous. Anakin shone brightly, and Qui-Gon wanted him in a way he had never wanted Obi-Wan. He saw potential in the boy. Where the Council members saw darkness and danger, Qui-Gon only saw light. There was none of the doubt that hung over Obi-Wan’s apprenticeship, Xanatos’s long shadow still reaching. Obi-Wan had harsh words for Anakin and even more for Qui-Gon, because he was stung that Qui-Gon had seen darkness in Obi-Wan and didn’t see any in Anakin.

But when Obi-Wan sat with Qui-Gon after the fight, when his life was in Obi-Wan’s hands, Obi-Wan made up for his past failures. This was the ultimate test in attachment. He gave Qui-Gon’s life to the Force to decide. And then, once it was determined that Qui-Gon would live, he gave up his spot at Qui-Gon’s side to Anakin.

It has been years since Obi-Wan was here, and he’s grown as a Jedi, as a man, and yet, looking at the peaceful planet, he can’t help but feel young and uncertain again. He will need to set aside extra time to meditate while they’re here.

#

Obi-Wan is glad there isn’t yet a Separatist threat here, because they tempt the Force by loading up a transport with the highest priority targets The Resolute has. Admiral Kal’ika, Commander Cody, Commander Alpha-17, Master Jinn, Padawan Skwwalker, and Obi-Wan himself are all on the transport which lands at the Theed spaceport rather than the basecamp the other vode are directed toward.

Because their transport lands in the palace, this is a more personal welcome than the spectacle waiting for them this evening. Even still, current Queen Neeyutnee, former Queen Jamilla, and former queen current Senator Amidala are all there to meet them as they descend the landing ramp of their transport.

Queen Neeyutnee is dressed the most elaborately. Obi-Wan will never understand how Nubians don’t have thicker necks if they’re expected to carry so much weight on their heads all the time. Queen Neeyutnee’s headpiece is a miniature recreation of the Theed waterfall, complete with running water.

Next to her, former Queen Jamilla looks almost plain. And Senator Amidala, in her senator garb is practically pedestrian.

Anakin, surprisingly, doesn’t seek out Senator Amidala right away. He looks around the hangar, unease and pride mingling in equal measure around him. Qui-Gon rests a hand on Anakin’s shoulder, and both emotions smooth into something calmer.

Obi-Wan looks around as well and realizes this must be the hangar they left Anakin in before hunting down Maul. They put him in a starfighter, told him to stay put, and; well, he supposes the rest is history.

“Welcome to Naboo,” Queen Neeyutnee tells the vode contingent. “We thank you for your current and ongoing efforts to defend us against the galaxy’s latest threats.”

As one, her handmaidens curtsy to the armored GAR members.

Cody removes his helmet and clips it to his belt. “Thank you for your welcome, Queen Neeyutnee. We hope to cause as little disruption to your routine as possible.”

Kal’ika and Alpha-17 remove their helmets as well, and Obi-Wan can feel their twitchiness at being so exposed. Obi-Wan, at least, is allowed to keep his wings hidden away, even if they protest the confinement.

Queen Neeyutnee turns to the Jedi next. “And welcome back to our dear friends.” Her smile gentles, no doubt at the discomfort on Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon’s faces. “Our heroes of the Invasion.”

Anakin puffs up a little, but he bows when Qui-Gon does, returning the acknowledgement back to the giver. Obi-Wan bows as well, but it’s stiff, with none of his learned courtesies. They are escorted to the rooms they’ll be staying in tonight and whenever else they are at the palace. Obi-Wan intends to spend as much time at basecamp as possible.

Lieutenant Firebird, Mischief, and Zippy step into the suite first, doing a security sweep before Obi-Wan can tell them it isn’t necessary and also offensive. Fortunately, it’s only Senator Amidala and her small retinue here, and she will understand GAR diligence.

Anakin has claimed Padmé’s attention, and he doesn’t notice when Firebird gives Alpha-17 a slight nod. Alpha-17 ushers the rest of the vode into the suite, except for Cody who remains with the Jedi and Zippy who hovers next to Cody, something clearly bothering him.

It isn’t a security concern, or Zippy wouldn’t have declared the rooms clear. Something about the rooms bother him. He glances at the open door, glances at Obi-Wan, and then makes a few quick hand signs, meant for Cody alone. But Obi-Wan has been diligently studying and learning, and so he understands as well.

“Is everything alright?” Padmé, with her sharp gaze, noticed Zippy’s hands moving, and it pulled her away from her conversation with Anakin. Anakin’s expression darkens, unhappy to be interrupted.

“Everything is fine,” Obi-Wan answers.

Now Qui-Gon is paying attention as well. Padmé’s former handmaidens, who are now attendants, or possibly bodyguards, also turn their full attention to Obi-Wan. No, they recognize Obi-Wan is lying, and they shift their attention to Zippy, as if they recognize an easier target.

“Is there something we neglected to provide for you or your men?” Padmé asks in a soft tone that is supposed to set people at ease, but Zippy looks alarmed.

He glances at Cody. “Uh, I’m only a trooper, ma’am. I mean, senator. I don’t have any men.”

Cody looks as if he would pinch the bridge of his nose if he had a single less ounce of self-control.

“But something is missing.” Padmé captures Zippy’s gaze and holds it.

“There’s no perch for Councilor Kenobi,” Zippy blurts out.

“Perch?” Sabé asks. She looks Obi-Wan up and down, considering.

“Oh.” Padmé looks flustered as if she’s realized the oversight and can’t believe she didn’t catch it before. “Master Kenobi, you have our sincerest apologies. I should have realized after Geonosis…”

“Perch?” Sabé repeats, clearly looking for information.

With a sigh, Obi-Wan unfolds his wings. Padmé clearly hadn’t told her handmaidens all the details of her rescue, because they all stare, some of them open mouthed, at the sight of his wings.

“I brought a mobile perch,” Cody says. “I wasn’t sure if Nubian rooms were outfitted for avian species, and the quartermaster now has several spares.”

Obi-Wan had planned on either sleeping on a desk tonight, because he’s sure there’s at least three to choose from in the suite, or not sleeping at all. Cody’s thoughtfulness brings a pink tinge to his wings. “Thank you,” Obi-Wan says. And then, to Padmé, “I am not displaying them tonight.” There will be enough people staring at him and whispering without adding his wings to the mix.

“It’s a shame,” Padmé says. “They’re beautiful. I didn’t get a proper look on Geonosis.” She reaches her hand out as if to touch his feathers, and he pulls his wings back without conscious thought.

“They’re sensitive,” he explains, somewhat awkwardly.

Padmé, rather than looking offended, smiles, as if she’s charmed. “I see,” she says, and Obi-Wan realizes one of his wings is pulled tight against his back and the other is extended around Cody, almost as if Obi-Wan’s embracing him.

Wings now a deep pink, Obi-Wan snaps them against his back and then hides them from view. He clears his throat. “Thank you again for your hospitality, Senator Amidala.”

Anakin’s heavy frown is now directed at Obi-Wan, as if he thinks Obi-Wan will seduce Padmé away from him with his wings. Obi-Wan met Padmé when she was fourteen. She was a brave, accomplished queen, and she is now a brave, accomplished senator, but part of him will always see her as a fourteen-year-old girl, scared and in need of help. Obi-Wan’s romantic tastes don’t tend toward teenage girls. Not since he was a teenager himself, at least.

Obi-Wan slinks into the suite to escape the entire situation. If he can’t handle a conversation with a friend, how is he supposed to endure tonight? The ballroom will be filled with politicians and nobles, people with enough position and power to get into the room. And they’ll all want to fawn over him or talk about his duel with Maul. Maybe, if he convinces Qui-Gon to go shirtless and display the scar on his chest, all the questions will be directed toward him.

Obi-Wan investigates the rooms off the main common room, not because he’s worried about lurking danger, but because he wants to know the layout. Eight bedrooms branch off of the common room, two along the short walls, and four along the long wall, across from the door to the hallway. The bedrooms each have a private fresher. The bedrooms also each come with two large beds, and Kal’ika shakes his head when he realizes they’re only meant to share the bed with one other person.

“There’s enough space for an entire squad,” Mischief says.

“Our friends are kind and generous,” Obi-Wan says.

Alpha-17 emerges from one of the rooms, holding a pink sphere. It fits easily in the palm of his hand, but he glares at it as if it presents some kind of danger. “Are bath bombs explosive?” he asks.

“No,” Obi-Wan answers but then he has to answer even more questions, about why call something a bomb if it isn’t and what’s a bubble bath and that leads to even more questions. By the time he’s finished, Padmé is gone and both Anakin and Qui-Gon have made themselves comfortable in the room they’re sharing.

“Where do you want to sleep?” Cody asks Obi-Wan.

“The common room.” The bedrooms are tall enough that he’d be able to sleep without accidentally touching anyone, but hanging upside above someone while they sleep is a touch too far for him.

Cody stiffens ever so slightly at the answer, but Alpha-17 speaks before he can. “We’ll have watches set up. If someone breaks in, they’ll see a blaster before they see Kenobi.”

“I’m a Jedi Master,” Obi-Wan reminds them. “I don’t need to be coddled or protected.”

Predictably, they both ignore him. Now that Obi-Wan has said which room he wants to stay in, Cody doesn’t ask for additional input. Obi-Wan tries not to scowl too much as Cody evaluates the room until he determines the most secure location. The perch comes complete with a bar for Obi-Wan to hang from, as well as a circular bar around his perch that a long curtain hangs from, affording him a small measure of privacy.

“Thank you,” Obi-Wan says, once Cody finishes setting it up. He touches the curtains. They’re heavy, made of material made to withstand the weather. He suspects there’s even sound muffling properties, in case his perch is set up in the middle of camp. It still makes him feel uneasy, as if he’s being singled out, to see his perch, but he can’t deny that it pleases him, knowing he has a comfortable place to sleep.

He drags a hand down his face. He needs to meditate and center himself.

#

Obi-Wan dresses for the evening’s celebration in his cleanest, blandest set of Jedi tunics. Some might call the color cream, but he thinks it’s more like two-day old oatmeal, the kind that has a hardened outer crust from being exposed to the air for so long. Once he is sashed and belted into place, he drags his fingers through his hair and then goes to see what the others are up to.

Anakin is fretting over his own outfit, apparently anxious over what Padmé will think of him in his boring Jedi clothes. Qui-Gon, of course, is still wearing his travel clothes, complete with pollen dusting one shoulder from whatever garden he toured earlier. He probably has dirt smudges on his knees.

Obi-Wan leaves the Jedi to their preparations. He pokes his head into Cody’s room, but after seeing the look that promises homicide as Alpha-17 keeps slapping bars and commendations to his dress uniform, Obi-Wan quickly leaves that room as well.

Mischief waves him into his room. Mischief and Zippy are both sitting on the bed they’re sharing, in their blacks, because they aren’t coming to the party tonight. Firebird is, though, and he pulls his shirt over his head and tosses it on the bed. Crow picks it up and immediately folds it. Obi-Wan tries not to stare too obviously at the scars twisting around Firebirds back and torso. Firebird pulls his pants down, and Obi-Wan sees the scars go lower. He knows enough about pain to know those are burn scars. How he got them though…

“Training injury,” Firebird says.

Obi-Wan has his own fair share of scars and injuries. Firebird’s don’t look like an accident. They look deliberate.

“It’s how I got my name,” Firebird continues. He grabs the pants that make up the bottom half of his dress grays. “There was a fire. I emerged, alive, from the flames.”

Obi-Wan studies the tight, drawn expression on Firebird’s face, how he touches his hands as if he’s wrapping cloth or tape around them. Obi-Wan’s empathy, combined with his investigative skills put the rest of the picture together for him. “Cody named you,” he says. Cody saved him. Firebird was one of the vode trapped with Priest until Cody named him.

“He told you?” Firebird smiles softly, pleased, as he pulls his shirt on. He fusses with it until Obi-Wan moves closer to tug it into place.

“I know how Cody got his scar,” Obi-Wan confirms.

“When Cody cares about you, it’s an honor. A privilege.” A knowing smile tugs at Firebird’s lips. It grows when Obi-Wan doesn’t meet his gaze.

“You’re his vod,” Obi-Wan says. He doesn’t say anything else because you’re his obligation is too callous, even if it’s partially true. You’re his responsibility. Softer but still not quite right. There is a sense of duty in the way Cody cares for the men under his command. But there’s something deeper, something more. Family.

“If you’re asking why he cares for you, you’re asking the wrong person,” Firebird says. His voice is low, but Obi-Wan is sure that Zippy and Mischief can still hear. It makes him feel vaguely self-conscious, embarrassed by the conversation and by his own selfish desire to have Cody’s attention and affection.

“There’s a party we don’t want to be late for,” Obi-Wan says.

Firebird smiles, a faint shimmer of amusem*nt in his eyes before he nods and steps back. He plucks the hat off his bed. It’s gray like his uniform and looks ridiculous, nothing like the helmet he usually wears. After a moment of fussing with it, he tosses it back down on his bed.

They meet up with the others in the common room and then head out for their welcoming party.

Chapter 9

Chapter Text

Nubians are known for their pomp and circ*mstance. Their group waits in an antechamber, the large double doors blocked by two security guards, until Queen Neeyutnee announces them. First, it’s Cody and his vode, and the doors are opened for the GAR officers to walk through, their gray uniforms matching like their faces; the same at first glance but, upon closer inspection, slight differences set them apart.

The three Jedi wait, listening to the reception of the vode. Qui-Gon stands tall, a tower of calm, and Obi-Wan is tempted to hook his fingers through Qui-Gon’s sleeve the way he did when he was a padawan and needed to borrow some of Qui-Gon’s strength.

But Obi-Wan isn’t a padawan anymore. It’s Anakin who stands to Qui-Gon’s right. He doesn’t stand the customary step behind. Whether it was Anakin who was uncomfortable with the positioning or Qui-Gon who didn’t see a need for the formality, Obi-Wan isn’t sure. It hits him now, more insistent since they’re on Naboo, that he doesn’t know much about Qui-Gon and Anakin. And that distance was created by Obi-Wan himself.

The last time Obi-Wan was on Naboo, Qui-Gon was in a deep healing trance, and Anakin was a young boy, at turns scared of his future and elated at his piloting during the invasion. He latched himself to Qui-Gon for comfort and occasionally turned to Obi-Wan, searching for what the unconscious Qui-Gon couldn’t give him.

Obi-Wan, rather than facing his failures or weaknesses, left. He spent years on Stewjon. Meditating, learning, and settling into who he is. He could have reunited with his former master and his lineage brother, but he sent himself to the Outer Rim instead. And now the three of them are reunited on the planet which splintered them apart.

Obi-Wan’s thoughts are locked down tightly, so he doesn’t worry about any of his feelings leaking into the Force and attracting the notice of either of his Jedi companions. His wings too are locked down tightly. It’s almost painful, the way he holds them in, but he’s afraid any lapse will see them snapping out. It’s a threat response. A flight response. But there is no real threat here, and there is even less reason to run.

Queen Neeyutnee’s voice drifts through the doors. “And, as we welcome new friends to Naboo, we also welcome old ones. Aiding in creating the defenses for our planet are ones who have defended us before. Jedi Master Qui-Gon Jinn, Jedi Padawan Anakin Skywalker, and Jedi Master Obi-Wan Kenobi. Or, as we know them here on Naboo, the Heroes of the Invasion.”

The doors open and Qui-Gon strides forward, Anakin at his side, and Obi-Wan half a step behind. The vode have moved off the platform, which means there’s nothing to distract the assembled crowd from the three Jedi. Queen Neeyutnee greets them as they step onto the dais, raising them so even those in the back can see them easily.

Queen Neeyutnee greets them each warmly, and Obi-Wan can’t help but think that with the Nubian attitude toward royalty, she must have been a small child during the invasion. She doesn’t know them. She knows of them. Stories exaggerated by school children, whispered in hallways, perhaps written accounts from former Queen Amidala.

Obi-Wan accepts the kiss she bestows on the air near each of his cheeks. The towering headdress she wears doesn’t allow for anything more intimate. The crowning achievement of the headpiece are the two long metal sticks which protrude from the top. Between them, suspended with a crackle of energy, is a miniature version of the Gungan’s boomas.

Obi-Wan supposes he should be grateful that she doesn’t have a miniature display of the fight against Maul. The last to be greeted, Obi-Wan bows to the queen and then to the assembly before he stands at Qui-Gon’s left.

There are more words, speeches without substance, which Obi-Wan acknowledges is a petty and inaccurate assessment, but he allows himself the weakness inside the fortress of his mind. He has been to political mixers like this before. Not many in recent years, because he has avoided Coruscant and the Temple and Inner Rim politics. On the Outer Rim, they don’t have soirees.

Gatherings like this often end in blasterfire on the Outer Rim. They’re a good target for bounty hunters hoping to snatch up two or three bounties for the effort of one.

After a reminder about cooperation, Queen Neeyutnee ends her spellbinding performance. It means the Jedi and the GAR representatives are now ushered down the steps to mingle with the crowd. Qui-Gon, of course, settles into his role naturally, something Obi-Wan has never understood. The man doesn’t have the patience for political games and yet, he’s always popular at parties. It must have been something Master Dooku trained into him during his apprenticeship. Both the dislike for these kinds of environments and the uncanny ability to fit in seamlessly.

Anakin goes in search of Padmé, but he allows himself to be distracted by a cadre of pilots who tease him, asking where the sandy haired boy they remember went. They quickly fall into reminiscing, and Anakin grins as they recount their memories from the day the invasion ended.

The vode mingle in pairs, none of them ever on their own. Obi-Wan accepts a glass of sweet-smelling juice from a passing serving droid and braces himself for his own foray into the crowd. His Jedi tunics, plain and familiar, somehow make him stand out here amongst all the opulence. The neutral colors are a beacon when he’s surrounded by shimmering, gemstone blues and greens and reds.

A woman who wears a sunrise in a dress, dark purple at the hem, turning to bright orange at the neckline, approaches Obi-Wan with a smile. Once she’s closer, Obi-Wan can see that her painted face deflects attention from the age lines around her eyes and mouth. The sparkles on her eyelashes are meant to distract from the eyes themselves, heavy with age.

“Master Kenobi,” she greets with a smile and sweep of her lashes. “I remember when you were still Padawan Kenobi.”

Someone he should recognize, then. She won’t be as gauche to outright say it, but the implication is there. Fortunately, the Force isn’t fooled by outward appearances. It only takes him a moment to locate her within his memories.

“Tsariana,” he greets. He offers her a shallow bow in return.

She’s clearly pleased that he remembers her. His recollection of her is vague, to the point that he doesn’t remember what she had worn when they met. She worked in the palace, and she was given the unwelcome task of trying to coax him away from Qui-Gon’s side long enough to eat and bathe, or, at the very least, splash water on his face.

Her daughter is now one of Queen Neeyutnee’s handmaidens, clearly a point of personal pride. Obi-Wan doesn’t tell her that with war on the horizon, it is now as dangerous to be a handmaiden as it is to be a queen. How many times did Padmé swap places with one of her handmaidens so that an attack on the queen wouldn’t actually risk the queen herself?

After Tsariana, there is another who wishes to speak with him and then another after that.

Sometimes, he speaks with those who were old enough to remember the invasion. They thank him for what he did, praise him for returning their queen to their planet and striking down the darksider who threatened her. Obi-Wan wonders if these peaceful Nubians realize they’re thanking him for being an instrument of death.

The younger speakers are worse. They’re the ones who only know their history from books and stories. They are eager to know about the lightsaber fight and what it had been like, as if it was a holo-show. As if it wasn’t real, Obi-Wan trapped behind ray shields, praying desperately to the Force that his master wouldn’t be killed while he was useless. For them, this is history, the outcome certain and unshakable. But Obi-Wan easily slips into memories and in his memories, he doesn’t know that he will win the fight or that his master will survive it.

“You were Padawan Kenobi when you came to Naboo, and you were a knight when you left.” The speaker now is some kind of advisor. Fishing, perhaps, due to the scale pattern on his robes? Obi-Wan isn’t paying as much attention as he should. “It is a great honor that Naboo could host your Trials. Especially now that you are a Master Jedi and a Councilor. You have done quite well for yourself.”

Obi-Wan’s smile is more like a grimace. He asks about fishing rights which, unfortunately, opens up complaints about Gungan relations and unfair restrictions. Obi-Wan manages to make it through the whole conversation but then he wraps the Force around himself and slips out of the room.

The vode don’t seem upset by the proceedings, no doubt falling back on training and regulations. But neither Qui-Gon nor Anakin display the same anxiety that Obi-Wan does. He escapes the room and takes a deep breath of much needed air in the hallway. It’s still too bright, and the noise from the room carries, so Obi-Wan continues his escape.

Is it so odd that Anakin and Qui-Gon don’t carry the same burden of memory as Obi-Wan? Anakin had been a child when they came to Naboo. This was an adventure. After a podcace that won his freedom, he was going to Naboo to help a beautiful queen free her people. Maybe, he had some uncertainty over whether he would be a Jedi or not, but in that, at least, Obi-Wan can relate. Was Naboo Anakin’s Bandomeer? He thought if he proved himself worthy, he would become a Jedi? And he had. He took out the droid control ship, and he was welcomed into the initiates’ dorms upon his return to the Temple. And then, once Qui-Gon was awake, Qui-Gon officially took Anakin as his padawan.

Qui-Gon, though. Is he truly so unaffected by being back on Naboo? Obi-Wan cuts through another hallway and then goes down several flights of stairs. He doesn’t know where he’s going, but he trusts he’ll be able to find his way back. Perhaps, Naboo isn’t full of dark memories for Qui-Gon. He almost died here, but it was Obi-Wan who cradled Qui-Gon’s head in his lap, Obi-Wan who sat vigil at Qui-Gon’s side. Qui-Gon wasn’t conscious for the worst of it.

Is this Obi-Wan’s burden, then? He’s the one who remembers, not the triumph of a near impossible starfighter run, not the miraculous recovery, but the fear and uncertainty that led up to those moments? He remembers the Gungans’ bravery as they faced a threat far larger than their own forces. He remembers the Nubians’ fear because they had no context or defenses against a planetary invasion. He remembers his helplessness, trapped behind the ray shields. His determination as he cut down his Maul. And then, a return to helplessness as he once again begged the Force to look over his master.

Train the boy.

Qui-Gon’s whispered words seem to echo. Obi-Wan looks around to find that he’s finally found solitude.

He’s also found the generator complex.

There are railings now, and he can’t help but shake his head and laugh a little as he leans against one of them. If he toppled over the side now, he has wings to catch him. He had wings then, of course, but he didn’t know how to use them.

If he closes his eyes, he will be transported to the past, and so he doesn’t close his eyes. Not even to blink. His eyes burn with the strain until a bit of moisture leaks out to ease the burn. He curls his hands over the railings. He gives up on trying to contain himself and allows his wings to spread out behind him.

Wings behind him, two sabers clipped to his belt, a beard, hair much longer than the padawan cut. He is older, yes, but there are more obvious signs of change. He isn’t the senior padawan who battled here years ago. He’s so far from it, he isn’t sure he’d believe the progression if he hadn’t lived it.

He peers over the edge, and in his memory he sees his lightsaber vanish from view, consumed by the generator. How many times has he heard that his lightsaber is his life? He lost his first one here on Naboo. With distance, he thinks he needed to. The Jedi he is now could not have wielded the saber he created as an initiate. He dual wields now and it’s right. And yet. Does that mean part of him died here and was reborn? Like Firebird, rising from the flames, did Obi-Wan have his own becoming here?

A noise brings Obi-Wan out of his contemplation, but it doesn’t startle him. He recognizes the footsteps, even if the feet are encased in sharp dress boots rather than battle boots.

“Hello, Cody,” Obi-Wan says without turning to face his companion.

“Hello, Obi-Wan.”

No title, no surname. It feels like a victory, and Obi-Wan smiles down the generator shaft. It tightens his stomach, to offer a smile, even a fraction of his joy to this pit that claimed his lightsaber. He turns away, so his smile is directed at Cody instead, someone who will care for it as it deserves.

“Will anyone miss you?” Obi-Wan asks.

“They won’t notice I’m gone.” There’s a weight to Cody’s words, as if to imply that someone will, or has already, noticed Obi-Wan’s absence.

If someone scolds Obi-Wan for ducking out early, he will accept the harsh words. He moves from the railing to a spot on the floor. It doesn’t look any different from the rest of the floor, but Obi-Wan knows this spot. He kneels and brushes his fingers against the ground. And then he shifts until he’s sitting the way he had been sitting then. If he closes his eyes, he can feel the weight of Qui-Gon’s head in his lap.

“Anakin enjoys the attention,” Cody says. He looks Obi-Wan over, but doesn’t comment on the picture he makes or ask the reasoning behind it. “You don’t.”

“I prefer a quieter life,” Obi-Wan agrees. “There’s a reason I was on semi-permanent assignment in the Outer Rim.”

“The Outer Rim isn’t quiet,” Cody says. “It’s distant.”

“You can ask,” Obi-Wan says, because it would be easier than dancing around the topic as they’re doing now.

“You could tell me,” Cody counters.

He could, couldn’t he? Obi-Wan isn’t sure where to begin. Their first trip to Naboo? Their second? Bandomeer? Obi-Wan traces patterns on the floor and begins where Cody did. “Anakin does enjoy the attention. For him, Naboo is one of his greatest successes. His smart flying saved the planet. In his head, it will always be linked to Padmé calling him a hero and Qui-Gon calling him a padawan. Or, I assume that’s true. I didn’t stick around after we returned from Naboo.”

Obi-Wan’s wings start to curl around himself, but he forces them back. He doesn’t want to hide from Cody. “Qui-Gon…I know even less about how he thinks about Naboo. But it was a successful mission for him – a darksider defeated and a planet saved. He woke up, alive, though I suppose he wouldn’t have known that there was a possibility that he might not have. And he was now free to take Anakin as his padawan.”

“He was not free to do so before?” Cody asks. And then, before Obi-Wan can answer, he nods to himself. “Jedi may only have one padawan at a time. And until you were knighted for your actions on Naboo, you were Master Jinn’s padawan.”

Obi-Wan sighs deeply. It’s an easy conclusion to reach. “I don’t like the attention I receive here for being a ‘hero’. I didn’t like the attention on Coruscant for being a Sith slayer. It’s why I stuck to the Outer Rim even after my sabbatical on Stewjon. Either way, people are interested in me, because I killed someone. Maul was—” Obi-Wan struggles for the right words. “He was tainted by the darkside. He was malicious. He was cruel and wanted to cause pain and suffering. The galaxy is better for him being dead, but I’m not sure I’m better for having killed him. And I certainly don’t want to be thanked or praised for it.”

Cody approaches slowly. He kneels next to Obi-Wan, careful not to settle where the specter of Qui-Gon is prone on the floor. Obi-Wan’s wings move to make room for Cody. “I understand,” Cody says.

He does. Because of the war. Because of Dred Priest. He knows that sometimes, in doing one’s duty, one has to kill. But Obi-Wan doesn’t want to be praised for it. Even if he somehow manages to find and kill the Sith master, he doesn’t want a celebration. He doesn’t want to be honored or remembered for the death he brings. He wants to be remembered for more pleasant actions.

“I almost failed my Trial,” Obi-Wan says. “Because it was a field knighting and those are rare, because it came after Naboo and everyone knew about the Sith, they assumed Maul was my Trial. He wasn’t. From the creche, I was willing to fight. I was sent from the Order for an unsanctioned fight when I was twelve. A lack of fight has never been my failing. No, my true test was in attachment. When I left Qui-Gon’s future in the hands of the Force, instead of my own, that was when I passed my Trial. Making the choice to trust the Force but, more than that, making the choice to let go if that was what was needed…that was my test. And it gave me the strength and the understanding to be knighted and give up my place next to Qui-Gon for Anakin.”

Absently, Obi-Wan plays with a lock of hair, where a padawan braid was once nestled. “I almost failed my Trial, because I wasn’t good enough, and they want to call me a hero.” Obi-Wan scoffs. When Cody reaches for him, Obi-Wan flinches back, guilt and shame and something deeper and more bitter, making him move. “I’m not fishing.” He isn’t looking for comfort or compliments.

What is he looking for?

Why is he back here? Qui-Gon lived. Maul died. Anakin is now a senior padawan and will most likely be a knight before the war is over. And Obi-Wan…Obi-Wan has embraced his Stewjoni heritage. He a Jedi Master and a Councilor. What does this room have to offer him except pain and memories of a time long past?

“Should I condemn you, then?” Cody asks.

“Would you?” Obi-Wan isn’t asking for Cody to do it, he’s curious if Cody would. The Jedi have certainly caused the vode a tremendous amount of pain. It wasn’t intentional, but Obi-Wan knows that unintentional wounds hurt as badly as those purposefully caused.

“No,” Cody answers simply. He moves closer again and this time, Obi-Wan doesn’t pull back.

“He didn’t wait for me,” Obi-Wan says, lowering his voice as Cody presses against his side. His voice is nearly a whisper, intimate in this echoing room. “I asked him to wait, so we could face the threat together and he—he didn’t trust me.”

It’s an old pain, one Obi-Wan has carried for decades. Trust was an elusive thing between him and Qui-Gon. Neither of them fully trusted the other. They were both bitter that the other didn’t trust them and felt justified in not trusting each other. Obi-Wan betrayed Qui-Gon on Melida/Daan by arguing, by drawing his saber, by refusing to heed his master’s wisdom. But Qui-Gon had stumbles of his own. Obi-Wan’s were larger, big defining moments. Qui-Gon’s were smaller. Missed meals. Forgotten promises. Little things that accumulated until their weight was heavy.

“Ray shields,” Cody says, his voice equally low. “Maybe he was protecting you.”

“I didn’t need to be protected. I needed to be at his side where I belonged. One final time, before he knighted me or repudiated me and—” Obi-Wan presses his lips together. “I shouldn’t complain. Especially not to you.”

Cody runs his fingers through Obi-Wan’s hair, touching him, twining them together. He gently uses his grip to tip Obi-Wan’s head back until their eyes meet. “You’re allowed to talk about yourself. And perhaps you should especially complain to me. A father-figure who doesn’t know whether to push you away or pull you closer? Who wants to train you to be their legacy and yet can’t stand the sight of you because you aren’t good enough? Because they look at you and see themselves and hate it?”

Obi-Wan doesn’t have any words to make Cody feel better. He can’t undo what Cody has been through. He can’t shake Jango Fett until he fixes what he did to his sons. He can sympathize. He can empathize. But he knows how much he doesn’t want to hear anything right now, so he can only imagine Cody feels the same.

But if Obi-Wan has nothing to say, there are few other things he can offer.

Cody’s hand is already in his hair, bringing them close together. Obi-Wan simply brings them closer. He draws his wings around them like a curtain, giving them privacy, and then he presses his lips to Cody’s.

Cody stills at the first touch, startled, even though Obi-Wan’s intentions were obvious. Before Obi-Wan can pull away, Cody parts his lips and kisses back. He is inexperienced, unsure how to move his mouth or what to do with his tongue, but he is enthusiastic, almost eager. His fingers tighten their hold in Obi-Wan’s hair as if he’s afraid Obi-Wan will stop kissing him before he’s satisfied.

There’s some awkward shuffling, both of them kneeling on the floor before Cody somehow ends up straddling Obi-Wan’s thighs. It brings more of their bodies into contact. Obi-Wan didn’t have strong opinions on the dress uniforms before, but they have risen in his estimation. There’s only cloth between them, and Obi-Wan can feel the heat of Cody’s body.

Genetically engineered. Designed to put off heat like this. Obi-Wan touches the scar on Cody’s face, both because he wants to touch and to remind himself that Cody killed a man who mistreated him and his vode. If Cody didn’t want to be in Obi-Wan’s lap, kissing him after they escaped a Nubian party, he wouldn’t be.

Cody is in Obi-Wan’s lap.

One of Obi-Wan’s hands cups Cody’s cheek, guiding their kiss. The other strokes up and down Cody’s back. Cody tries to arch into the touch without breaking their kiss. He makes a small, impatient noise, and Obi-Wan can’t help but laugh. It’s Obi-Wan who breaks their kiss, and he peppers smaller kisses along Cody’s jaw as if to make up for it.

“It’s—” Cody struggles for words.

“Messy? Uncoordinated? Undignified?”

“Is this how you treat all your partners? You insult them?”

Obi-Wan laughs again, because he knows Cody isn’t offended. He’s teasing, warm and fond and still comfortably seated on Obi-Wan’s lap. “Do you imagine that I’ve had a long line of them?”

Cody backs up enough to look Obi-Wan in the eye. “You’re a Jedi. You have wings.”

“I try to hide that I’m a Jedi. And I definitely hide my wings.”

“You’re kind,” Cody continues. “Selfless.”

“Detractors on the Outer Rim, if you can believe it. I will put us both out of our misery. I have not had nearly the number of partners you’re imagining.”

“More than me. So, if we’re uncoordinated, I believe that rests firmly on my shoulders.”

“On the contrary. It’s about the two of us moving and working together. It’s something we learn together. Through—” Obi-Wan wraps his arm around Cody’s waist to keep him from sliding down the slope of Obi-Wan’s thighs—“practice and determination.”

“You make it sound like training,” Cody says.

Obi-Wan grins. “Remind me what you refer to your blaster as?”

Cody laughs and he seems caught off guard by the sound. He ducks his head, shy but pleased, and Obi-Wan can’t help himself. He kisses Cody again. This time, he initiates the kiss and then eases back and allows Cody the space and the control to explore. Cody enjoys kissing but, even more, he enjoys nipping lightly at Obi-Wan’s lips. Perhaps it’s because Obi-Wan gasps the first time Cody does it, and Cody is greedy for the sound and the reaction.

They kiss until they have worked themselves up and then settled back down. Obi-Wan is tempted to stay here all night, Cody secure in his arms, his wings a barrier between them and the rest of the galaxy, but he knows they can’t. If they’re discovered missing, there will be a search party.

“You could sleep in my bed tonight,” Cody offers, as if he also doesn’t want this moment to end. He knows, just as Obi-Wan does, that private moments like this will be nearly impossible to find once they return to the grind of the war.

“And make Alpha-17 sleep on my perch?” Obi-Wan asks, proving his own point. There is no space, no privacy on the front lines. Cody is the first to stand, and he offers Obi-Wan a hand up that Obi-Wan doesn’t need. Obi-Wan still accepts it, because he likes the feel of his palm against Cody’s, the strength of Cody’s grip as he helps Obi-Wan to his feet.

Cody keeps his hold on Obi-Wan’s hand as he leads them out of the generator complex with an unerring sense of direction. Or, more likely, as if he has the schematics and floor plan memorized.

“You are a Jedi, and I am a clone commander,” Cody says. “We’re both on the frontlines of a galactic war. I know we can’t have everything, but I don’t want to deny ourselves something.”

“We give what we can,” Obi-Wan says. His relationships have always operated like this; though, he admits, not quite to this extreme. Obi-Wan is a Jedi first, his vows made to the Force and to the Order. What’s left of him, he can offer freely to a lover or a partner. It’s never been enough for more than a dalliance or spot of fun. But Cody is in the same position as him. They each have responsibilities that come before each other.

“No distractions,” Cody says. They climb two flights of stairs that bring them back to the palace proper.

“No selfish decisions,” Obi-Wan adds.

Cody looks as though he’s had an unpleasant realization. “Alpha-17 will use us an example for Padawan Skywalker.

“It’s a compliment,” Obi-Wan says. “It means we can successfully have healthy relationship. But I would prefer that he give us some time to find our footing before he starts using us.”

“The Jedi won’t censure you?” Cody asks. His grip loosens for a moment, as if he’s preparing to let Obi-Wan go now, before this can development into something more.

Obi-Wan holds onto Cody’s hand as he answers. “The Jedi Order numbers around ten thousand. There is no uniform agreement on things like relationships and attachment. Even amongst the teachings and the Councilors, there is not complete agreement. The official Jedi position is that service to the Force and then service to the galaxy must come before everything else. We are encouraged to love those we encounter, because how can you be present and a caregiver without love? But, there are many types of love.”

Their hands swing between them as Obi-Wan sorts through lectures and lessons and philosophy for the short answer. “There are some who will frown at a relationship. There are some who will warn me against the possible pitfalls. There will be some who congratulate and encourage me. Ultimately, the concern with relationships and attachments is that a personal connection will cause a Jedi to put another person or persons above their duty. When Master Tahl died, Qui-Gon touched the darkside of the Force in his rage and his grief. It will always be a concern, for other Jedi and for myself, that I might make the wrong choice because of my relationship with you. But concern means I should be on my guard, not that I should cut you out of my life entirely.”

Obi-Wan can sense Cody’s unease, and he regrets being the cause of it. “Anyone can be overcome by emotion. There are stories from Mandalorian history about warriors who burned planets because they lost their riduur. There are parents who have kidnapped children because they didn’t feel as though their guardians would raise them correctly. When Jedi falter, they are capable of great damage and destruction, so we are far more cautious. But being aware of danger, being in control of our feelings, it doesn’t mean we stomp them out or forbid them. As I’m sure you know, forbidding something is the fastest way to see it adopted. To bring us back to Anakin, my greatest concern is that he thinks he needs to keep his feelings and his relationship with Senator Amidala secret. If Qui-Gon knows I am in a relationship with you, he can help check my decisions. Am I taking an action, because it is the correct one or because I’m worried about your safety? When a Jedi isolates themselves, they open themselves up to the whispers of the dark.”

That wasn’t nearly the short explanation Obi-Wan had intended, but Cody’s mindscape is thoughtful now, instead of worried.

“It’s the same for me,” Cody says as they reach the hallway their rooms are located in. He reluctantly releases Obi-Wan’s hand. “Rex will never let me coddle his company because you’re attached to it. And Alpha-17 will call me out if I make a decision based on your wellbeing instead of a tactically sound one.”

“We’re doing this, then?” Obi-Wan asks. Attempting a relationship? At Cody’s nod, Obi-Wan smiles. “I believe it’s tradition to seal such agreements with a kiss.”

Cody rolls his eyes, but he’s smiling as he leans in for a brief press of their lips.

Chapter 10

Chapter Text

At first glance, being in a relationship with Cody doesn’t change much. There are still conversations that happen between vode and the upper tier of officers that Obi-Wan isn’t a part of. There are still conversations that Obi-Wan has with his fellow Jedi that Cody isn’t a part of. There are divisions between their lives, but, where they can, they twine their routines together.

In the morning, if Obi-Wan and Cody are in the mess tent together, Obi-Wan will bring Cody a cup of caf, and their fingers will brush on the handoff. When Cody wants to show Obi-Wan something, he doesn’t hand the datapad over anymore, he tilts it toward Obi-Wan in an invitation for Obi-Wan to move closer and brush his arm as he reads. When they’re in a space big enough for Obi-Wan to stretch his wings, they gravitate toward Cody, whether Obi-Wan is thinking about it or not.

They are small things. Obi-Wan hasn’t moved into Cody’s tent or anything so obvious, but their relationship isn’t a secret. Firebird spots him and Cody returning from a perimeter sweep, no it isn’t a euphemism, and his smile is bright, genuine, and almost too much. Cody grumbles something about punishment duty if he doesn’t knock it off, and Firebird continues to smile but also finds somewhere else to be.

Rex tells Obi-Wan, in startling detail, about how Cody killed Dred Priest, which Obi-Wan thinks is supposed to be a warning or odd kind of shovel talk. Cody rolls his eyes when Obi-Wan tells him and then berates Rex for giving strategy secrets to a suspected enemy. It’s how Cody and Rex express their feelings for each other, so Obi-Wan leaves them to it. Alpha-17 reminds Obi-Wan that Jango’s reputation as a Jedi killer was well-earned and that the vode are the Prime but better.

Qui-Gon seems baffled by the concept of a shovel talk when he approaches Obi-Wan to discuss the situation, so at least Obi-Wan doesn’t have to worry about anyone threatening Cody on his behalf. Anakin still hasn’t noticed, which Obi-Wan doesn’t mind. He does ask Qui-Gon not to spread what he’s seen.

“We’re already the center of attention here on Naboo, and Cody is the most recognizable vod,” Obi-Wan explains. “We have found each other and found that spending time together makes us happy. We don’t need the galaxy looking in, and we certainly don’t need their judgement.”

Qui-Gon looks at Obi-Wan for a long moment, and Obi-Wan starts to squirm, recognizing the lead-up to a lecture from his padawan days, but it never comes. “You have grown into a good man,” Qui-Gon says. He rests a hand on Obi-Wan’s shoulder as if he recognizes Obi-Wan is ready to bolt. “I’m sorry I missed the journey, but I am glad the Force has brought us together again.”

“You didn’t miss the whole journey,” Obi-Wan says. He isn’t always sure if he grew into the person he is because of Qui-Gon or despite him, but it’s undeniable that Qui-Gon has had a permanent effect on his life. He leans into Qui-Gon’s touch, now that Qui-Gon has reached out first. “Being on Naboo is difficult for me. It should be a place of celebration. We defeated a Sith, you lived, my faith in the Force was tested but I prevailed. Instead, I see the introduction of an ancient threat, I feel the fear of losing you, I question if it was faith or helplessness that kept me from taking action with you dying.”

“Like truth, experiences are different depending on the point of view. I don’t have to tell you this, you already know it.”

“I also know that I should be focused on the present,” Obi-Wan grumbles. Still, he indulges himself by curling his wings around Qui-Gon and feeling the man’s lifeforce beat strongly. Obi-Wan is on Naboo and Qui-Gon is alive.

And if his life is in danger again? Could you let him go a second time?

Obi-Wan brushes away the insidious voice. He passed his Trial on Naboo, but life is full of trials, both small and large. Some of them are even repeated. His ability to let go has already been tested more than once. It will continue to be tested. But now he can draw on his own strength and past experiences. He has shown that he is stronger than selfishness and possession. He can do it again. He will do it again.

“Yes,” Qui-Gon agrees. “Focus on the present. I am here with you. Anakin is here. Commander Cody is here. Perhaps, there was a time in the past where we almost weren’t. And, perhaps, there will be a time in the future where we might not be. But in this moment, take strength and pleasure in the fact that we are here.”

“Will you share in a meditation with me this evening?” Obi-Wan asks. “Anakin too if he’ll sit long enough for it.”

Qui-Gon huffs, a mixture of fondness and exasperation for his padawan. Now that they’ve moved to the basecamp, Anakin is easier to wrangle. While they were in the palace, he was distracted at every turn by Padmé. Here, there are also distractions, Anakin’s is an active person and prefers working on repairs or training or even playing games with the vode to sitting in meditation, but he is more cooperative than he was when Qui-Gon was taking him away from time with the senator.

“We’ll be there,” Qui-Gon says.

#

Ten minutes before they’re set to meet, Qui-Gon comms Obi-Wan to tell him that it may only be Qui-Gon joining him for meditation, because Anakin is in a meeting with Alpha-17 and none of the vode will tell him where they are or comm and interrupt them.

Obi-Wan goes looking for the pair on his own. The vode don’t block his path when he reaches the command tent, and he enters the main room of the tent, where their maps and projectors are set up and assembled. Anakin and Alpha-17 are in one of the side rooms, and their conversation is loud enough that Obi-Wan can hear it with ease.

“This is exactly what I’ve been talking about,” Alpha-17 says with a large serving of frustration in his tone. Alpha-17 isn’t the most patient of teachers, and Obi-Wan thinks it explains a lot about the vode’s discipline.

“I just want to see her,” Anakin snaps. “You’re as bad as the Order is when it comes to this stuff.”

“Kid.” Alpha-17 nearly growls, and Anakin, predictably, huffs at being called a kid. “My problem isn’t with ‘this stuff’ it’s with who you chose. She’s a senator, and you’re a Jedi.”

“So?” Anakin challenges. If Obi-Wan closes his eyes, he can see the stubborn jut of Anakin’s chin.

“So, that’s an easy way to throw a wrench in the war. The Jedi are supposed to be neutral, but here you are on Amidala’s home planet building a garrison when there hasn’t even been a hint of an attack. We’re here doing what we need to do, and I will back Cody on that in front of the Senate itself, but that isn’t where this conversation will happen. It’ll be whispers and smear campaigns. Your name will be dragged through the mud, her name will be dragged through the mud, and it’ll be a f*cking mess. There will be complaints about favoritism and corruption, and we’ll have to address those instead of making battle plans, we’ll have to redirect resources to appease blowhards instead of sending them where they need to be sent.” Alpha-17 pauses. He draws a deep breath. “If you still have feelings for her after the war is over, she can leave the Senate or you can leave the Order, and you have all the fun you want. But there is a war on right now, and I won’t risk my vode because you want to get your dick wet.”

Anakin is quiet for a long time. When he finally does speak, it’s in starts and stops. “I—You—Really?” Anakin clears his throat. “No, I can sense it. You mean everything you just said. You think if people found out that Padmé and I were in a relationship, it would sabotage the war effort.”

“I know it would,” Alpha-17 says.

“We could keep it a secret,” Anakin says, but Obi-Wan can tell it’s a half-hearted protest at best, as if he already knows what the answer will be.

“First of all, you can’t,” Alpha-17 says. “You are so obvious it’s almost impressive that you’re trying not to be. Second of all, the only thing worse than being in a relationship like this is being caught.”

Anakin sighs. “It’s just—I like her.”

Obi-Wan’s glad Alpha-17 is handling this conversation and not himself. He’s never been good with the relationship talk.

“You like her enough to risk her career and yours,” Alpha-17 says.

“Yes!” Anakin’s answer is enthusiastic, almost defiant, as if he thinks he’s passing a test.

“You like her enough that as a kid you risked your life to save her planet.”

“Yes.”

“Do you like her enough to wait for her?” Alpha-17 asks.

Anakin’s silent again, caught off guard. His next, “Yes,” is hesitant. Then, more firmly, “Yes. I love her. She’s all I can think of, but you’re right. Padmé said she could lose her seat in the senate over this. Because I love her, we’ll wait. When the war is over, and I’m not needed to fight, and she isn’t needed to legislate, we can decide what to do next. It’ll be hard, though.”

“Of course it will be,” Alpha-17 says. “And if you need to get off in the meantime, I meant it earlier. I don’t care about Jedi philosophy sh*t. As long as your partner won’t f*ck up the war effort, I don’t care where you stick your dick.”

“No, I’m going to be faithful to her,” Anakin says. “Do you think this will count as my Trial?”

“I told you, I don’t care about Jedi sh*t. Ask your teacher.”

“I can’t tell Qui-Gon!” Anakin sounds horrified. If he had pearls, Obi-Wan is pretty sure he’d be clutching them. “Secret relationship, remember? Also, he’s old.”

“Kid.” Alpha-17 sounds as if he’d happily space Anakin if they were in orbit. “I cannot tell you enough that it was not a secret. Jinn knows. And, yes, he’s old. Which means he has had more sex than you. A lot more. He could probably give you advice.”

“Oh, ew!” Anakin’s outrage is real, but there’s amusem*nt threaded through it, as if he recognizes that Alpha-17 is teasing him now, their conversation moving from a lecture to something lighter.

Obi-Wan slips out of the tent and then makes some noise re-entering it. “Anakin?” he calls.

Anakin bursts out of the side room as if he was hoping for an excuse to leave. “Obi-Wan!” He sounds surprised but pleased at the rescue. And then he checks his chrono and frowns. “Are you here to collect me for meditation?”

“You make it sound as though this is a punishment,” Obi-Wan says. “Your master and your lineage brother want to spend time with you. This is bonding.”

“Hey, you’re not old,” Anakin says, as they leave the tent. He sounds as if he’s on the verge of an epiphany. “Can we talk about sex stuff later?”

Behind them, still in the tent, Alpha-17’s laughter rumbles loudly. Outside the tent, vode stop what they’re doing to stare. Crow walks face first into a stack of crates. Bowie drops the datapad he was holding.

“Of course,” Obi-Wan answers, instead of wondering how fast this story will spread through the camp. Any frustration or embarrassment he might feel evaporates when he considers the situation. Obi-Wan had been fortunate to have a friend like Quinlan Vos, who he could talk to and even experiment with when he was learning his body. He had no intention of asking Master Jinn about anything, not masturbation, not sex, not before Tahl died and certainly not after she died.

He doesn’t know if Anakin has a friend like Quinlan. He does know that he’d rather bear the awkward questions and probing personal questions than have Anakin fumble around on his own. Fumbling around on one’s own is how Obi-Wan learned that not all liquids are created equal, and he should be judicious in what he uses as lube.

He and Quinlan had a list. Actually, Obi-Wan bets it still exists. Every time one of them tried something that wasn’t lube to slick things, they wrote it down and noted whether it should be used again or not. Would Anakin be horrified by the list, or would he think it was funny? They could add another author to it, especially now that Quinlan is all responsible with a knighted padawan and Obi-Wan has emerged from his self-exile and is now in a committed relationship.

He has a hard time imagining Cody ever so underprepared that they’d use something ill-advised as lube. And then he puts the thought firmly out of his mind somewhere it won’t accidentally bubble up during group meditation.

#

There might not be any droids to fight on Naboo, but there are still battles and skirmishes as they work to establish a semi-permanent presence. Naboo is home to a delightful species called veermok.

Veermoks are primates that come with jagged white claws and razor-sharp teeth. According to Nubian biologists, veermoks have the strength of ten humans. They are strong, they are aggressive, and they have the tools to kill with ease. They make their homes mostly in swamps and moist woodlands, and the GAR can’t avoid them entirely.

Fortunately, they haven’t lost anyone to veermok attacks, but the medics are busy with scratches and bites and a variety of other injuries that come from the animals. They’ve started sending scouting squads instead of lone scouts, because the likelihood of being ambushed is so high.

The Gungans have proved to be valuable sources of information and allies against the veermoks, since they often prey on Gungan spawning grounds.

Still, after a month of fending off veermoks, Obi-Wan is almost looking forward to a proper fight against droids. Yesterday, they learned that beskar holds against veermok strength. One of the veermok managed to grab Bowie’s wing and then cracked its teeth trying to bite through it.

Obi-Wan is part of the small group working to clear out the next area they’ll expand into. When he returns to the temporary basecamp, he’s exhausted. He wants a hot bath, an even hotter cup of tea, and an early night. There are no baths out here, unless he counts his earlier dousing in the swamp, the tea here is lukewarm and tasteless, but he might manage the early night.

For now, he reports to the command tent. Alpha-17 is overseeing this operation, with Cody back at their base of operations. Obi-Wan misses being in the same place as Cody, but it isn’t as though he could have refused this assignment. Alpha-17 is overseeing it, because the Winged Company is well suited to scouting and reconnaissance. Plus, Obi-Wan’s pretty sure at least half the 501^st thinks wrestling a veermok is a sign of a good day.

Obi-Wan, Rex, Firebird, and Hawke all took different groups out, and they give their reports each in turn. Obi-Wan lingers after his report is done, waving off Firebird and Hawke’s offer to eat with them. Rex looks between Obi-Wan and Alpha-17 as if he’s deciding if he needs to stay for this or not.

Obi-Wan just wants to ask after Anakin, because he can sense a tantrum brewing, and he wants to head it off if possible.

Before Obi-Wan can speak, Anakin himself storms into the tent. He points a finger at Alpha-17. “You’re a hypocrite.”

Alpha-17 squares his shoulders at the attack. Rex makes the decision to stay in the tent, planting his feet firmly near the table they gave their reports at. Obi-Wan has a feeling that he will not manage an early night tonight. Qui-Gon remained with Cody and the majority of their forces, which means Obi-Wan and Alpha-17 have joint custody of Anakin.

“You think there’s a double-standard?” Alpha-17 asks with more patience than Obi-Wan expected.

“He,” the finger is now pointed at Obi-Wan, “is ‘getting his dick wet’ with Commander Cody. And don’t try to deny it! The Chancellor told me.”

No one has given Obi-Wan a good answer for why Anakin has such a personal relationship with the Chancellor of the Republic. Obi-Wan certainly doesn’t have routine, private calls with the most powerful political figure in the Republic. The fact that Anakin and the Chancellor were apparently discussing Obi-Wan’s relationship status is odd.

“Cody and I are in a relationship,” Obi-Wan says and neatly ignores everything contained in the phrase ‘getting his dick wet with’. “How is this a double-standard?” Obi-Wan has his suspicions, of course, but he can’t voice them without admitting to eavesdropping.

“You said no relationships which interfere with the war effort or your vode’s lives.” Anakin is addressing Alpha-17 again, his voice barely contained, on the verge of yelling.

“The relationship between Commander Cody and Councilor Kenobi doesn’t interfere with the war effort,” Alpha-17 says, and Obi-Wan knows he’s taking this seriously, because he’s using proper ranks and titles.

“There is no conflict of interest,” Obi-Wan adds, drawing Anakin’s attention to him. “And, to make sure everything is and remains above board, I submitted my change in relationship status to the Jedi Council for approval and filing. Commander Cody did the same with GAR brass. Which, I assume, is why Chancellor Palpatine knows we’re together.” It still doesn’t explain why he thought it was an appropriate topic to discuss with Anakin.

“It isn’t a secret,” Alpha-17 says. “If you didn’t know, you weren’t paying attention.”

Obi-Wan gives Alpha-17 a sharp look, because he isn’t helping. “Cody and I properly documented our relationship, but we don’t advertise or flaunt it, because we are private people. I’m sorry you were surprised by finding out.”

“But you’re a Jedi,” Anakin says. “And he’s a soldier! How is that different? How come the Council doesn’t care?”

“Cody is the Marshal Commander of the Third Systems Army,” Obi-Wan says with a hint of scolding in his voice. "And how are we different from who?”

“Nothing,” Anakin mutters. “But the Council! You’re a councilor. You’re allowed to break your own rules?”

“That would be hypocritical,” Obi-Wan says, “but Cody and I aren’t breaking any rules. You asked why the Council doesn’t care? They do care. They know Cody and I are together, which means they will carefully examine and possibly even question the decisions I make with regards to the war. As a Jedi, I am not forbidden from being in a relationship. I cannot, however, put that relationship above my duty.” Obi-Wan makes sure Anakin is looking at him before he continues. “Not everyone can put duty before those they love or even themselves. It isn’t a moral or personal failing. You can be a good person and put love before duty. But you cannot be a Jedi and do it. There have been those who have left the Order for love. Those who wanted to return to their parents, who wanted to marry and have children, who wanted to accept a minor or major political position on their home world.”

Anakin’s anger evaporates, leaving behind a lost, scared expression. “You mean it, don’t you? One day, I’ll have to choose between being with Padmé and being a Jedi.”

“Only if you intend to put Padmé before your vows to the Order. That is a personal decision, and I encourage you to speak with your fellow Jedi about it, but in the end the decision is yours. There is no shame in choosing the life you want. If you remain a Jedi, I will be proud to call you my brother. And if you leave the Jedi to start a family, I will be proud to call you my friend.”

Anakin opens and closes his mouth a few times. “I need to meditate on this,” he says and then spins on his heel and disappears.

Obi-Wan frowns at the space he leaves behind. “He should have apologized to you, Alpha-17. I’ll speak to him later.”

Alpha-17 waves it off. “I’m more concerned with this pattern of behavior. Without fail, he backslides after every conversation he has with the Chancellor.”

“That is concerning,” Obi-Wan says. “I suppose the Chancellor is a politician, not a Jedi so it perhaps is not surprising that his views are so different, but that he can influence Anakin so easily? That, I do not like.” Obi-Wan hums. “I believe I am in need of some meditation as well. Do they talk to each other often?”

“More than a Chancellor in the middle of war should have time for,” Alpha-17 answers.

Obi-Wan nods to himself. A long meditation, then. See if he can find the source of his unease with these conversations. And then he’ll have to decide if it’s a problem he addresses or if it’s something better left to Qui-Gon.

#

Obi-Wan is helping with inventory when his comm crackles, the Winged Company emergency line.

“Spot is down!” Mischief’s voice is panicked, full of fear, almost foreign in Obi-Wan’s ears. “There’s a—sh*t. It’s the killer droid. He—” more swearing, shouting in the background and the unmistakable hum of lightsabers.

Obi-Wan looks at Alpha-17, who is no doubt hearing the same thing Obi-Wan is. Emergency channels are fed to comm control and also the high-ranking officers.

“Go,” Alpha-17 says. “Rex will be right behind you.”

Obi-Wan doesn’t need to be told twice. He has his sabers clipped to his belt, and he has his wings on his back. He takes a running start and then leaps. He uses the Force to boost his jump and then he snaps his wings out and begins to fly.

Standard operating procedure means Obi-Wan knows where Mo’s squad was headed, and he knows their last pinged location. Obi-Wan flies as fast as he can and worries it won’t be enough. He hears the signs of the battle before he sees them, but it doesn’t take long before he sees the flash of blasterfire and the bright light that comes from a plasmablade being met by beskar.

Mischief, warning sent, is now using his wings to block the three-bladed attacks from the Separatist horror story, General Grievous. Part-organic, part-droid, the enemy wields three sabers with mechanical speed and strength.

Mischief doesn’t even try to engage Grievous in a proper fight. His wings are defensive only, barely getting up in time to keep himself from losing a limb or being cut in half. His determined defense becomes clearer when Obi-Wan sees Zippy a few paces away, kneeling at Spot’s side, trying to perform a medic miracle in the middle of a battlefield.

Mo and the others are trapped on the other side of a company of droids, a handful of vode giving over a hundred droids hell. Obi-Wan trusts that Rex and the back-up he brings in will swoop down to help Mo.

Grievous is Obi-Wan’s fight.

Mischief takes a strike to his wings, and they hold up under the assault but then Grievous follows it up with a punch. The blow catches Mischief off-guard and with Grievous’s strength, it sends Mischief flying.

With Mischief out of the way, Grievous advances on Zippy and Spot.

Obi-Wan can’t land between the enemy and his fellow soldiers. He has to land behind Zippy and Spot. Grievous sees him land, and he laughs, a rusted, jagged sound that sends shivers down Obi-Wan’s spine. Obi-Wan is closer to his men than Grievous is, but Grievous has four arms and three lightsabers, and Obi-Wan isn’t entirely sure who is favored in this fight.

And then—

That green saber. Obi-Wan knows that saber.

Grievous notices his shock and laughs again. He twirls the green lightsaber, the one that had guided Obi-Wan’s path for years, the saber Master Jinn wielded until he was captured on Geonosis and—Obi-Wan bets one of Grievous’s other sabers is the one Anakin had taken from him during his own capture.

“You aren’t a Sith,” Obi-Wan says, “but you have the arrogance of one.” How dare he waltz in here, Naboo of all places, with Qui-Gon Jinn’s lightsaber as if it’s a trophy, as if it’s something just anyone can wield.

Grievous might be a cyborg, he might have once been a feared warlord, and he might now be a Separatist general, but none of those lightsabers are his. Obi-Wan, who hasn’t drawn his own weapons yet, feels the pull of Qui-Gon’s saber. He can hear the kyber crystal cry out for help. It reaches for him, wants him, and it’s easy for him to hold out a hand and call the weapon to him.

Grievous shrieks as the weapon abandons him for Obi-Wan. Obi-Wan grips the hilt in two hands. It was built for Qui-Gon who is larger than Obi-Wan, who prefers to fight two-handed, to use his size and strength to his advantage. The last time Obi-Wan fought with this weapon, he was desperate. He fought for his life. He fought for Qui-Gon’s life.

Qui-Gon is back at the main camp, with Cody and the best of the 212^th and the 442^nd. But there is a vod who is dying and a medic doing his best to save him. There are more vode battling against terrible odds. There is plenty here for Obi-Wan to fight for. He raises Qui-Gon’s saber in a stance that feels familiar, for all that Obi-Wan hasn’t practice Ataru in years.

“I have trained with a master of combat. You will not defeat me.” Grievous doesn’t wait for Obi-Wan to come up with a pithy remark. He surges forward with an inhuman burst of speed. Obi-Wan leaps to meet him and uses the Force to knock them to the side so they land away from where Zippy guards Spot's body.

And then Obi-Wan’s awareness of his surroundings fades. He focuses on his opponent, on the two sabers he still has. One green, one blue. Obi-Wan suspects one of them was Anakin’s first saber. Is the second one a true trophy? Does it belong to a Jedi who is now dead? Grievous attacks in a flurry of blades that Obi-Wan fends off with his own inhuman reflexes.

Obi-Wan slips his saber through Grievous’s guard and lands a blow that heats the metal casing of Grievous’s body but does no permanent damage. Obi-Wan is stunned and then worried. If he can’t pierce the cyborg’s body, how is he supposed to win? Grievous takes advantage of Obi-Wan’s lapse. He brings his sabers up to raise Obi-Wan’s arms and then he lands a solid punch to Obi-Wan’s chest.

Four f*cking arms, Obi-Wan thinks as the air is knocked out of his lungs. He feels the burst of pain, and it radiates from the point of impact. If he’s lucky, his ribs are bruised. If he’s unlucky, they’re broken. If he’s especially unlucky, his organs will be pierced by his own bones.

He shunts the pain to the Force and raises Qui-Gon’s saber again. Obi-Wan has to use all his tricks to keep Grievous from landing another blow. He users his saber to block Grievous’s blades. He uses his wings to shield him from Grievous’s fists. He learns that if he puts enough power behind his wings, he can blow Grievous back to buy himself a moment or two of peace.

It isn’t enough. Obi-Wan is organic, he’s mortal, and the longer the fight goes on, the more his energy is drained. Grievous, unless Obi-Wan can find and target his power cells, can hold to his frenzied pace far longer than Obi-Wan can defend against it.

A retreat, then.

Obi-Wan casts his senses out to get the lay of the battlefield. Zippy and Spot are gone, hopefully medevac’d. A fair distance away, there are still the sounds of droids fighting vode. But in this clearing, it is only Obi-Wan and Grievous.

His moment of inattention costs Obi-Wan. He’s jolted back to the moment by a sharp crack of pain. One of Grievous’s hands grips Obi-Wan’s wrist and squeezes until the bones break. Obi-Wan shouts, pushing pain and sound and everything else he can into the Force. Qui-Gon’s saber falls from his limp hand.

Obi-Wan manages to get his wings up, and he attacks Grievous with no finesses. He just jabs him with feathers and the Force until Grievous lets him go and Obi-Wan can stumble back. His wings keep him on his feet instead of falling on his ass. Obi-Wan still has both of his own sabers, but he only has one hand capable of gripping one.

Grievous deactivates two of the sabers he has and tucks them away. It leaves him holding Qui-Gon’s, the green blade still ignited. He moves it in a slow arc, the green glow making the cyborg look sicky, like something radioactive.

“I will enjoy killing you with this blade,” Grievous says. “I will use it to kill its master as well. A good reminder to keep a better hold on his things.”

Through Obi-Wan’s own pain, he feels the kyber’s pain as it realizes it’s back in Grievous’s possession. Grievous doesn’t have the Force, so he can’t make the kyber bleed, but he can make it feel pain. The crystal, which had thought it found freedom in Obi-Wan’s hands, now begs for a permanent freedom. It pulses, energy making the blade grow thicker. It heats the chamber inside the hilt.

Yes, Obi-Wan tells it, and he prays Qui-Gon won’t feel this. He has a moment of regret, of panic, but this isn’t Qui-Gon’s saber anymore. It was but it never will be again. Do it.

The kyber pushes outward, more power than the matrix can handle. The energy eats through the crystal matrix and ignites the power cell. Obi-Wan has enough time to drop to the ground and wrap his wings around himself before the saber explodes.

It’s energy and force and the Force. It batters against Obi-Wan’s wings, along with pieces of cyborg. Obi-Wan’s shields are strong, but they weren’t made for this, a constant assault of sheer energy, and he screams. The sound rips through his throat and emerges in shreds. It’s pained, the keening of a wounded animal, not unlike the shriek of a dying veermok.

His wings burn or maybe it’s his mind. He claws at his face. If his mind is on fire, he has to reach it, put it out. He grabs his hair and pulls as if he can split his skull and then reach inside.

More noise is added to the cacophony. It is loud, too close to him, and Obi-Wan whimpers. He tries to kick out, but something—someone—grabs his legs. They pin his torso next and then grab his hands. His broken wrist is agony, but he can’t scream more than he already is. He tries to bite, tries to fight back with his wings, but he is pinned and subdued.

When he jerks against the hold, he feels the crack in his chest. Maybe, he would hear it, if he could hear anything over his own screams. But he certainly feels it, the jagged opening, as if lightning has stuck him and cleaved him in two. He chokes on his breath, and he can’t gather enough to scream again. Not vocally, anyway.

His mind, though. His mind splits open the way his chest has, and he pours his fury and his pain into the only avenue he has left.

And then, a tiny pain amongst the vast chasm of pain, a pinprick at his neck, and the world goes blessedly dark.

Chapter 11

Chapter Text

Obi-Wan wakes in a familiar room but not in a familiar position. The ceiling above him has a beautiful image of the Lake Country painted on it, because Naboo believes beauty should be shown everywhere. The ceilings have murals and the floors have tiled mosaics and even hair becomes a canvas, a foundation for elaborate headpieces.

He spent long hours contemplating this ceiling, when he couldn’t bear the sight of Master Jinn’s slack face. Obi-Wan’s eyes are heavy with drugged sleep and sticky, his lashes clinging together whenever he blinks. His body aches, as if he had a terrible bout with the flu.

His throat is dry, and his mouth is even drier. It tastes like…well, maybe he did have the flu. He manages to move his eyes and even that hurts, but it means he can see the figure who takes their vigil by his bed. He expects to see himself, but this isn’t the past. It is Obi-Wan in the bed, not Qui-Gon. And in the chair is Qui-Gon.

His features are drawn, shadows on his face make his wrinkles look deeper, like canyons. He looks old, gray threading through his hair, and a heavy weight dragging his shoulders down. This—this isn’t right. Is this a hallucination? A weird dream? In this room, Qui-Gon is dying and Obi-Wan is wrestling with the choice he made not to save him and—

“Qui-Gon?” Obi-Wan tries to say the man’s name, barely manages more than a puff of air past his lips.

It’s enough, though. Qui-Gon’s head snaps up. There is hope in his eyes, bright, a flare, almost too much because it reminds Obi-Wan of an explosion of pain and—

“Shh.” Qui-Gon grips Obi-Wan’s left hand gently between his own large hands. They are warm and dry, with familiar callouses. Obi-Wan realizes he’s whimpering. “I’m here, Obi-Wan.”

Yes, they are both here, but they’re in the wrong places. Obi-Wan’s head is muddled, a jigsaw scattered across the floor and for a moment he’s a child again, trying to piece himself back together after the memory wipe on Phindar. He had managed to protect himself, but only by scattering his sense of self. He had to piece it back together, under a deadline, because people were in danger and—

“You are Jedi Master Obi-Wan Kenobi,” Qui-Gon says in a low, soothing voice. “You battled the cyborg Separatist General Grievous and defeated him. You sustained serious physical and mental injuries, so you are in the healing ward in the Theed Palace.” Qui-Gon pauses for a moment, allows his words to sink in. “I am Jedi Master Qui-Gon Jinn, your former master. I am at your side, overseeing your recovery, because right now you can’t shield yourself.”

Wrong places, wrong words. Obi-Wan whimpers again, dredges up enough strength to say, “Train the boy.”

“I did.” Qui-Gon brings Obi-Wan’s hand to his face and Obi-Wan feels dampness against his skin. Qui-Gon’s tears. His master is weeping. “Ten years ago, you defeated Darth Maul on this very planet, and you were knighted for your actions. I took Anakin Skywalker as my padawan. And after his efforts in the most recent battle of the Clone Wars, the Council knighted him.”

The boy is trained. The boy is safe. There is someone else. Not a boy. Bright sunlight, yellow and orange against a white background. The curve of a scar, curling like an embrace, a reminder of the lengths he’ll go to protect those he loves. He has a name, but it escapes Obi-Wan right now. He doesn’t need a name. He knows this man. He casts his sense out for him, but before he can go far, he hits a soft barrier.

“Not yet,” Qui-Gon says, and Obi-Wan recognizes the barrier. The warmth, like an embrace, is his master’s Force presence. If he’s wrapped Obi-Wan in it, then Obi-Wan must be worse off than he thought.

“I’ll tell Cody you were awake and thinking about him,” Qui-Gon promises.

Obi-Wan settles and only realizes once he’s relaxed that he had been straining. Body, mind, what little fight he could put up, he had. Searching for Cody. Yes. That is his name. Cody. He is golden sunlight and orange laughter and amber seriousness, a conviction so deep and strong that nothing can shake him. He is bedrock and with Obi-Wan’s mind scattered, he thinks he wouldn’t mind someone grounding him.

“The healers don’t want you awake yet,” Qui-Gon says. He shifts one of his hands, so his large palm covers Obi-Wan’s forehead and his eyes. The room is dark with Qui-Gon’s hand over his eyes. It’s easy to close them and find a deeper darkness. “Sleep,” Qui-Gon says.

Obi-Wan sleeps.

#

The next time Obi-Wan wakes up, he feels more present in his body. On the one hand, he appreciates knowing who and where he is. On the other hand, being present in his body means being fully aware of how much he hurts.

The achy flu feeling is still there. Obi-Wan wonders if it means he didn’t sleep long or that he was very seriously injured. He takes stock of his body again. Aches and pains from a fight. His right wrist is in a stiff cast. He remembers Grievous crushing his bones. He wiggles his fingers and breathes easier when they respond, even if it aggravates his wrist.

His chest is bound tightly, bacta patches wrapped with thick white bandages. He recalls being punched. Apparently, cyborgs can pack a lot of power into their hits. With his left hand, he gently pokes his chest. He still isn’t sure if he’s bruised or broken.

There is a datapad next to him that hopefully has his medical report. There is also a cup of ice chips, as if someone was anticipating him waking soon. His mouth is too dry to water, but he feels an ache as if it’s trying to water at the prospect of the ice. Obi-Wan ignores the datapad for now. He pinches the cup between two of his fingers. He drops his prize on his lap.

He’s in a half-recline, which means he doesn’t have to try and maneuver himself into a new position. The ice is slippery, but he manages to get a thin piece into his mouth. It’s cool, blessed relief. He lets it melt on his tongue, and the moisture is absorbed by the muscle. There’s nothing to swallow. He fishes out another piece.

“What are you—Jedi!” A healer rushes over to snatch the cup away from him. And they are a healer, not a medic, dressed in Nubian robes instead of armor.

Obi-Wan isn’t GAR proper, but he is attached to the 501^st and The Resolute. There had been a fight. How long has he been out? Did they leave him behind to recover? Did they leave him behind? Obi-Wan’s calm evaporates in an instant.

His mind opens, a yawning chasm. Emotions pour out; fear, despair, pity, and hopelessness. He hasn’t been this undisciplined since he was a child, but he can’t stop. He tries to seal the edges of his mind, but they slip from his grasp. His fear grows, boosted by panic. He writhes on his bed. The healer shouts.

There are straps, they hold him down to keep him from moving. He’s pinned and suddenly he’s on his back, Grievous’s boot on his wing. Obi-Wan screams and his throat is raw, his voice not nearly loud enough to convey the depth of his displeasure. The chasm opens further. With a torrent of emotion, he doesn’t need physical strength. He could bowl everyone backward. He could burn the straps from his bed. He could—

The familiar embrace of another mind. It wraps him in a tight hold that doesn’t feel constraining like the straps. It leeches the pain and the fear from him. It seals the chasm. Obi-Wan blinks, surprised at the dampness at the corners of his eyes.

“I’m here,” Qui-Gon says, and his voice has a strange echo, as if Obi-Wan is hearing it with his ears and in his head. “I’m here. You’re safe. The healers didn’t mean to startle you. The restraints are to keep you from hurting yourself. I can feed you ice chips.”

Obi-Wan doesn’t like the restraints and he does want ice chips, but that isn’t the source of his distress. His mouth moves around words that have no sound. More tears well in his eyes.

Qui-Gon runs his fingers through Obi-Wan’s hair. “It’s okay,” he promises. “Whatever fear you have, it is okay. Grievous is dead, and the droid invasion was pushed back. Naboo is safe. It is protected.”

If Naboo is secure, it’s even more likely that The Resolute has moved on. Obi-Wan was too weak, too slow, he’s been left behind and—

“Shh,” Qui-Gon says and his voice is strained, as if he’s fighting against a terrible power or terrible weight. “The vode are still here. There is clean-up and rebuilding, but it isn’t all hands on deck. I’ll send for someone. It won’t be Cody. He’s directing everything. But I can ask for one of the troopers. Will that help?”

Obi-Wan manages a small nod.

“Alright.” Qui-Gon’s relief is shaky as if there’s an edge of desperation to it. “Anakin says hello, but it’s best that he keep his distance until your shields are stronger.”

His shields? Oh. Is that why the chasm keeps opening? Is that why he feels off-center, as if he’s spilling in every direction? And it must be why Qui-Gon is having difficulty understanding him. Obi-Wan can’t focus his thoughts, so he’s dumping everything on the man. No wonder his eyes are pinched in pain.

“No guilt,” Qui-Gon chides. “You survived something that even the Temple healers didn’t think was possible. We will build your shields back up. In the meantime, allow yourself the kindness and grace you need to heal.”

Maybe this isn’t real. Qui-Gon certainly sounds like he’s giving a lecture to an errant padawan.

Qui-Gon laughs and bend to press a kiss to Obi-Wan’s forehead. “Complaint duly noted. The healers want to check your vitals and your progress. I know your voice and your mind aren’t up for speech right now. Do you feel what’s in your left hand?”

It’s a small device with a groove where his thumb rests naturally and easily. Obi-Wan presses down and there’s a click.

“One click for yes, two for no,” Qui-Gon tells him. “It’s basic, I know, but it will allow you to communicate as you heal. Do you understand?”

Yes, Obi-Wan clicks.

“Once the healers check you over, you’ll be allowed a visitor,” Qui-Gon says. “I will remain here, because as talented as Nubian healers are, Force-sensitive patients have some unique needs.”

Yes, Obi-Wan clicks.

The healer that had taken away Obi-Wan’s ice chips, stands at his right side, the opposite side of the bed of Qui-Gon, and begins her examination. She narrates what she’s doing and what she sees. Obi-Wan’s wrist is healing nicely, but it had been so damaged that there is still a long way to go before he’s back to full strength. Another week in the cast, and then two weeks in a brace with basic physical therapy, and then more advanced exercises.

Obi-Wan’s ribs were cracked and then broken later in the fight. Qui-Gon keeps a steady grip on Obi-Wan’s hand, lending him strength and comfort, during the examination. He gives Obi-Wan ice chips as the healer explains the various IVs and drips and says, more than once, that Obi-Wan is not allowed to remove them.

As the healer notes the severe bruising and multiple fractures, he can’t help but think of his medical form. The small note at the bottom. Handle with care. A vod wouldn’t be this beat up after facing Grievous. Obi-Wan’s body isn’t meant to take that much impact. The lightsaber explosion certainly didn’t help.

sh*t.

Alarm flares in Obi-Wan’s head, uncontrolled and spilling out. Qui-Gon catches it with ease and filters it into the Force for him.

“You did what was needed,” Qui-Gon says. “I’m glad he had my saber, because it meant that you could use it.”

Qui-Gon has always been too forgiving of Obi-Wan’s flaws. Taking him on Bandomeer after a legitimate rejection at the Temple. Bringing him back to the Temple after Melida/Daan. The first hug they shared after New Apsolon and Tahl. Obi-Wan is embarrassed, ashamed, but he can’t keep his thoughts inside. He can’t hide them from Qui-Gon.

“Oh, Obi-Wan.” Qui-Gon breathes softly. He brings Obi-Wan’s hand to his mouth and kisses the back of it with the same softness and tenderness. “You were my apprentice, my child. I never said it enough. I love you.” He sends the emotion into the gaping hole in Obi-Wan’s head, and it settles into every part of Obi-Wan’s consciousness.

Love. Tenderness. This soft, sweet emotion that is too much and yet Obi-Wan craves more of it. He knew Qui-Gon loved him, but it’s also true that Qui-Gon rarely said it. To hear it, to feel it, Obi-Wan is greedy and soaks up as much of the feeling as he can.

It should be ridiculous. It is ridiculous. Obi-Wan is a grown man, in his thirties now, he shouldn’t need this. But Qui-Gon doesn’t relent, in his feelings or pushing them toward Obi-Wan until they push out Obi-Wan’s doubt and his shame, until there’s only space for good things.

Finally, the healer is done. She leaves a tray with another cup full of ice chips and a bowl of broth. Obi-Wan doesn’t have to suck on the ice or sip the broth, because he has the IVs. But if he wants something, it’s there.

He accepts an ice chip when Qui-Gon offers it to him. He rests his eyes until there’s a knock at the door. He’s glad Qui-Gon doesn’t try to turn the vod away. Obi-Wan is tired, yes, but he needs this more than he needs rest.

When Jesse enters, helmet off, Obi-Wan can see the worry in his eyes. He’s glad that Qui-Gon has a careful hold on Obi-Wan’s own emotions, so his initial disappointment doesn’t leak into the room and poison the visit. Obi-Wan likes Jesse. He’s glad he’s here. It doesn’t mean his entire body and mind don’t yearn for Cody.

“Obi-Wan, Jesse of the 501^st is here to visit,” Qui-Gon says. To Jesse, Qui-Gon motions to the chair that Qui-Gon has been keeping his vigil in. “Jesse, I’m sure the healers have given you the update, but Obi-Wan has only just been allowed visitors. He can’t speak at the moment and shouldn’t try.” This last part is directed at Obi-Wan, along with a stern look.

Obi-Wan smiles, a quick, flitting thing. Yes, Obi-Wan clicks.

“One click for yes, two for no if you ask questions,” Qui-Gon tells Jesse. “This is a short visit, because Obi-Wan is still recovering, but we’ll arrange more as the healers allow. Normally, you wouldn’t be allowed to visit yet, but Obi-Wan was distressed at the thought of The Resolute leaving him here.”

Two hard jabs, a pointed, No, accompanies Obi-Wan’s scowl.

“We’re here,” Jesse promises. He sits in the chair next to Obi-Wan’s bed, but on the very edge of it so that he can curl his fingers around the bed railing.

Obi-Wan touches the railing and can’t help his amusem*nt. Nubians put railings on their bed but not in their generator complexes.

“All of us,” Jesse continues. “Everyone had a message they wanted me to give you, but I knew it would be a short visit, so I prioritized them. Zippy says Spot pulled through. Plasmablades cauterize, so he didn’t bleed out.”

Obi-Wan smiles. He taps his chest and then looks at Qui-Gon.

“Yes, Spot and I will match,” Qui-Gon says. He rubs his chest, where he has the scar from Maul’s attack. “Not exactly, of course. I believe Spot’s wound was lower. And you also have a few lightsaber burns.”

Obi-Wan lifts a shoulder in a shrug.

Jesse looks between them and then pulls a battered piece of flimsi out of his belt. “Captain Rex says if you send the word, he’ll send the Winged Company to break you out.”

Obi-Wan huffs a small laugh.

“Kix has a lot of questions.” Jesse looks back down at the flimsi. “He’s pretty heated, because no one will let him treat you or receive updates.”

Obi-Wan gestures to his chart.

“Would you like me to provide a copy to Medic Kix?” Qui-Gon asks.

Yes, Obi-Wan clicks.

“The entire 501^st and 212^th say hello,” Jesse continues. “We’re all glad you’re okay. And that you’re getting better. Also, Alpha-17 is bragging to all the other commanders that his Jedi is the best.” Jesse darts a look at Qui-Gon. “No offense, sir.”

Obi-Wan’s amusem*nt spills out of his head, and it brings a smile to Qui-Gon’s lips. Qui-Gon indulges himself by petting Obi-Wan’s hair.

There are some more personal messages, from the vode Obi-Wan spends the most time with, but there is a conspicuous absence. Obi-Wan tries not to let it show, but he knows Qui-Gon is fighting against the deluge of anxiety and worry and sinking disappointment that Obi-Wan can’t control.

Qui-Gon clears his throat. “Trooper, are you saving the most important for last, by any chance?”

Jesse nods. He glances between the two Jedi. “Should I not?”

“It’s time for the last,” Qui-Gon says. “Please give Obi-Wan the message from Commander Cody, and then Obi-Wan needs to rest again.”

“He didn’t give me anything to say,” Jesse says. He reaches into his belt pouch and pulls out another piece of flimsi, this one folded in careful quarters. “But he gave me this.” Jesse, noticing that Obi-Wan only has one functioning arm, unfolds the flimsi before he hands it over.

There are no words on the flimsi either, but there is a drawing. A painting? A sunburst in 212^th gold shines out at him, and Obi-Wan’s breath stutters. He traces his fingers over the picture, and he can feel Cody’s love and concern for him, as if Cody focused all of his thoughts on Obi-Wan as he made the picture.

It is better than words, the only thing that makes it easier for Obi-Wan to bear Cody’s absence. He lifts the paper until he can tip his head forward and rest his forehead against the sun. Jesse draws in a sharp breath, and Obi-Wan knows he’ll pass on Obi-Wan’s return message. And then Obi-Wan tucks the picture under his medical gown so that the sunburst rests against his chest.

Jesse stands up, prepared to go. He’s on Obi-Wan’s left, so Obi-Wan reaches out with his good hand. He beckons Jesse closer until Jesse understands and leans in so that Obi-Wan can touch his forehead as well. Obi-Wan doesn’t know how to communicate his next thought with a clicker, so he looks at Qui-Gon and pushes a jumble of thoughts and feelings.

“Ah.” Qui-Gon clears his throat. “Trooper Jesse, if you would pass on Obi-Wan’s message to any and all that you can, he would appreciate it.”

“I would be happy to,” Jesse says. “I’ll see you soon, sir.”

Obi-Wan appreciates the optimism even though he doesn’t quite share it. He knows he has a long recovery ahead of him.

“You will not be alone in it,” Qui-Gon promises.

#

Obi-Wan’s recovery is slow, and even as he improves, he isn’t allowed many visitors. He combats boredom by reading. He reads about Anakin’s part in the fight. As Obi-Wan battled Grievous and the Winged Company took on the droids, Anakin joined the pilots.

He had a reprisal of his first trip to Naboo. He took out the droid control ship. Apparently, he got into the co*ckpit of a starfighter even though Padmé was in danger. He put his duty first, and Qui-Gon recommended him for knighthood. Alpha-17 wrote, not a glowing recommendation, but a second recommendation nonetheless.

Knight Skywalker. Obi-Wan sends Anakin a message congratulating him. He isn’t allowed to see Anakin yet, because Obi-Wan’s shields are too weak for someone as powerful in the Force as Anakin to be around him, but they can message.

Obi-Wan messages Rex as well. Alpha-17. Cody. There are group chats as well, and Obi-Wan is included in strategy meetings even though he is half a continent away. Naboo’s fortifications are nearly complete.

More planets leave the Republic. The Senate has long debates over whether it should be allowed and, if it is, what it means for trade agreements and taxes and a dozen other bureaucratic things. Fighting breaks out on more than one planet, not between droids and vode but between its own people, because they can’t agree on the future of the planet. Often, those in power, want to join the Separatists, because they want to strip the planet of resources or not have to follow Republic anti-pollution measures, while the masses want to remain in the Republic for the support network.

These planetary conflicts quickly escalate with the leaders calling on droid support and then the masses begging for GAR protection. After the third such conflict, Alpha-17 asks the million-credit question.

“Who is supposed to mediate these conflicts, so they don’t end in an entire planet’s population wiped out?”

Obi-Wan, propped on his med-bed, still stuck in the Theed palace, grimaces. “The Jedi. We are—were?—the galaxy’s mediators. But we were pulled into the war, and now you can’t search for the GAR or the warfront without seeing a saber ignited amongst rows of vode. The Senate made sure we aren’t neutral. We can’t mediate this.”

Alpha-17 lets loose an impressive stream of curses.

“Purposefully?” Cody asks. That’s the two million-credit question. But he moves past it without answer. Obi-Wan knows Cody too well to think that it was a mistake.

#

It isn’t until Obi-Wan is finally released to the care of the GAR medics, that he is able to discuss the topic freely. And, as becomes quickly obvious, freely is the key word. Cody stopped the conversation over comms, because there is suspicion of leaks within the GAR. A war of this size, of course there are leaks, but that Cody thinks comms are compromised is concerning.

Obi-Wan is brought into a small meeting with Cody, Alpha-17, and Kal’ika, not to discuss leaks or security measures, but to discuss the Jedi involvement in the war.

“Who does it help to keep the Jedi from helping to end the war?” Kal’ika asks. “You would think no one wants a galactic war.”

“The Separatists want secession,” Obi-Wan says. “I don’t think they necessarily wanted to fight for it, but they were certainly prepared for a battle. But mediation isn’t supposed to lead to fighting. If the Jedi were able to mediate, we would have made arrangements for planets and systems to leave the Republic peacefully. Which you would assume the Separatists would want.”

“But who is against secession?” Cody asks. They all know the answer. He taps his fingers on the table they’re gathered around. “The Senate has been against secession from the beginning. Which also doesn’t make sense, because it’s legal.”

“That doesn’t mean it’s popular or wanted,” Obi-Wan says. “When I proposed the Jedi remain distant from the war, who was the loudest objector? Who wanted us visible on the frontlines?”

Cody digs up old Senate minutes. Someone had uncovered that the Jedi had been involved in the creation of the vode and argued that meant they had responsibility to help lead them. But it was Chancellor Palpatine who reminded everyone of the pre-Ruusan reformation Republic, where Jedi were generals and warriors. He couched his own power grab as a return to the past for everyone, chancellor and Jedi alike. And who could accuse him of selfishness or being power hungry if his gains were side by side with the Jedi’s.

“The Chancellor,” Obi-Wan says. A shiver runs down his spine. “He wouldn’t want secession. It would make him look weak. He came to power because the Senate lost faith in Chancellor Valorum after the handling of the Naboo Invasion. But Valorum would be a footnote in the history books if the following chancellor oversaw the greatest mass exodus of the Republic in its history.” Obi-Wan feels bile rise in his throat. “This war is about politics and pride?”

“He would know about the Jedi’s importance and role,” Kal’ika says. “He would know that if he could link the GAR and the Jedi in everyone’s minds, then the Jedi wouldn’t be able to end the war. He must believe that between the GAR and the Jedi, we will defeat the Separatists and bring perhaps even more planets into the Republic.”

“But that isn’t how it works!” Obi-Wan’s anger isn’t for anyone in the room, and he does his best to contain it. His shields are much improved from when he first woke up after Grievous’s attack. But he still tires easily and too much emotion exhausts him. “Republics aren’t grown through military victory. Planets petition for entrance. It’s supposed to be voluntary.”

“The war has benefited the Chancellor.” Alpha-17’s tone is dark, and there’s something lurking in his eyes that makes Obi-Wan shudder. “He has more power than any Chancellor in recent history. And the longer the war drags on, the more he’ll accumulate.”

“Do we call for a vote of no confidence?” Obi-Wan asks. “It didn’t exactly work out so well last time.”

“Our friends in the Senate have hinted that he’s preparing to do away with elected terms,” Cody says. Obi-Wan’s pretty sure friends is code for spies. “He’s consolidating power. You’re right, this isn’t how a Republic operates. But I’m not sure it will be a Republic for much longer.”

Obi-Wan groans. “Great. We have the politicians on our own side working against us, we have a massive army led by a former Jedi trying to kill us, and there are still two Sith out there plotting the demise of the entire galaxy.”

“Maybe the Sith are using the war to their advantage,” Cody says. “If their aim is destruction and chaos, a galactic war would be the perfect cover for their own actions.”

“Or maybe they started the war,” Obi-Wan mutters. “I’ve seen the reports from the northern front. Planets are being destroyed when they become battlegrounds. The kind of bombings and fighting that will take generations to heal.”

Alpha-17 and Cody exchange a look. All the hairs on the back of Obi-Wan’s neck stand on end.

“There are answers that we need,” Cody finally says. Whatever passed between Alpha-17 and Cody, it isn’t for Obi-Wan to know yet. Obi-Wan wonders if it has to do with the leak. Obi-Wan isn’t part of the GAR, it shouldn’t sting that he isn’t trusted. And he knows that the lives of the vode are more important than his personal pride, but…

“If we’re talking about what we need…” Kal’ika scowls as he pulls up the latest star charts. In the northeast corner of the galaxy, there are a lot of alarming colors.

“Ah,” Obi-Wan says, spotting the problem immediately. “Mandalore.” The Mandalorian system is a giant hole in the middle of the GAR perimeter. Satine has declared her people neutral. The Republic has respected her decision and kept their navies and their fights away. The Separatists aren’t as respectful.

It means the Separatists can shuttle supplies and cruisers through Mandalorian space. They can attack and then retreat where the GAR can’t follow. They can take shortcuts that the GAR can’t take. It’s a problem, but even the Senate isn’t ready to violate Mandalorian sovereignty yet. Obi-Wan wonders when it will come. And what the repercussions will be when the images come out, Jedi leading an invasion of Mandalorian space.

“Satine is stubborn,” Obi-Wan says.

“If she won’t budge, we need someone in power who will,” Alpha-17 says.

Cody stiffens. Kal’ika rolls his eyes, as if this is a conversation they’ve had before. “We might have his face, but we aren’t him. The duch*ess won’t even recognize us as Mandalorian.”

And if Jedi leading an invasion of Mandalore would be disastrous, clones of Jango Fett doing the same would be even worse.

“The Third Systems Army is responsible for the southern perimeter,” Cody says.

“Nothing we’re doing matters if the Mandalorian system remains off-limits to us and free passage to the Separatists,” Alpha-17 says, but he doesn’t push any further.

The meeting wraps up quickly after that, but the Mandalore problem lingers in Obi-Wan’s mind as he goes to find his sleeping perch.

Chapter 12

Chapter Text

Obi-Wan is out of the Theed healing rooms, but he’s far from healed. His sling is gone, and he does his wrist strengthening exercises. It doesn’t hurt to breathe deeply or sneeze unexpectedly anymore. Physically, he is nearly back to where he had been before the explosion.

His wings, however, show how much work he still has ahead of him. He had been able to sleep on his back at the palace, because his wings didn’t manifest. They were tucked deeply inside himself, as if hibernating. The first time he summoned them, he gasped at the tattered feathers and gaping holes. He had used them to protect himself from the explosion, and they took the brunt of the damage.

He spends thirty minutes in the morning and thirty minutes in the evening, working on restoring them. It’s slow, difficult work. Even if he could escape Qui-Gon’s restrictions or Kix’s frown, he wouldn’t be able to put in more than an hour a day on their healing.

He has been working on his saberwork, and the Winged Company has insisted on him training with them on blasters and hand-to-hand, so he is more than prepared for any physical fights. He can’t call on the Force to help him yet, but he is slowly restoring that connection. At least his shields are functioning, for the most part, again.

Qui-Gon sits with him each morning as he works on his wings, and he lends his strength and support when he can. In the evenings, it’s Cody who sits with him. Cody can’t help with the metaphysical aspects. He can’t prop up Obi-Wan’s shields or concentration, but he keeps Obi-Wan company. And, when Obi-Wan is finished and he’s tired and frustrated and too unsettled to sleep because his wings are still broken, Cody helps soothe him.

By the time they’re beginning to wrap up their work on Naboo, Obi-Wan’s wings are stronger, but he hasn’t attempted to fly again yet.

“What’s our next assignment?” Obi-Wan asks.

It’s become commonplace now for Obi-Wan to meet with Cody, Alpha-17, and Kal’ika. He’s an unofficial part of the decision-making team, but he chooses to take it as a sign of trust given the continued worries about a major leak.

“We’re leaving the southern perimeter in the capable hands of the Third Systems Army,” Cody says. “The Resolute, its crew, and its three battalions are going to be part of a more personal campaign. If you are agreeable, we would like to escort you to a neutral location to discuss a diplomatic alliance with a foreign power.”

It’s a lot of words, a lot more words than Cody usually uses. He prefers efficiency and directness. Obi-Wan raises his eyebrows. “And the Basic translation?”

Alpha-17 snorts. He ignores Cody’s scowl and says, “We want to help the Prime take Mandalore.”

Obi-Wan raises his eyebrows even higher. “You what?”

Cody sighs and ignores Alpha-17’s muttered, “You were taking too long,” and answers Obi-Wan. “duch*ess Kryze is actively harmful to the war effort. Her neutrality hurts us and not our enemy. She is too stubborn to change her position. The Republic doesn’t want to control the Mandalorian system. We simply want to be able to pass through it and set up our defenses against the Separatists.”

“But Jango Fett?”

“Jango Fett is the current Mand’alor.” Cody locks his hands behind his back and stands with perfect posture. “Satine Kryze took the title of duch*ess, not Mand’alor. Technically, she’s a hostile invader. We would be assisting a sovereign leader to reclaim a stolen throne.”

“There is a lot to unpack there,” Obi-Wan says.

“But it could work,” Cody says. There’s a hint of desperation in his voice, as if he needs Obi-Wan to tell him they have a chance.

Obi-Wan takes a deep breath. He considers the angles and the layers and then nods. “It could work. It cannot be solely a military venture. The New Mandalorians did put Satine in power and that means something. However,” he holds up a hand to stop whatever Alpha-17 has to say, “the Mandalorians were forced to choose between Death Watch and the New Mandalorians, because Mand’alor Fett was presumed dead. If he is alive, there is a new choice. But do you have any indication he would want to work with you? With the Republic? With the Jedi?”

Alpha-17 nods. “The Prime left Geonosis with Boba. Only the Ancestors know what his plan was. But the trainers had plans of their own. Kal Skirata took the Nulls with him when he left Kamino. They’ve had plans to retake Mandalore since I was old enough to eavesdrop. They’ve convinced the Prime that he wants it too. But with the numbers they have, it would take years.”

Obi-Wan notes that Alpha-17 doesn’t doubt the success of Fett’s mission, only how long it would take. He isn’t even sure that Alpha-17 is wrong. Still, “You are willing to offer GAR support in Mand’alor Fett’s retaking of the Mandalorian system.”

All three vode nod.

“What do you want in return?” Obi-Wan asks.

“To finish setting up our perimeter,” Alpha-17 says. “GAR and Mandalorian defenses, with the understanding that the Republic won’t infringe on Mandalorian independence.”

“Citizenship,” Kal’ika adds. “We’re his clones. Whether it makes us his vode or his ade, who the f*ck knows. But we are Mandalorian. We want that acknowledged. Our vode on Coruscant are ready to leverage that into Republic citizenship once the Senate panics about losing the entire GAR to the new Mand’alor.”

Smart, cunning, and good long-term strategy. Obi-Wan isn’t surprised. He looks at Cody.

“Answers,” Cody finally says. “There are some questions only the Prime can answer, and he owes them to us. Would you be willing to negotiate on our behalf?”

“Yes,” Obi-Wan answers. “Though, you should know I will be an incendiary choice. Dooku, who was present on Galidraan, is my grandmaster. And there is ample documentation of Qui-Gon and Fett fighting on Kamino. Fett holds no love for my lineage. And, when I was a padawan, I spent a year on Mandalore protecting Satine Kryze and then eventually helping her into power.”

“You are who we want,” Cody says.

“I will have to talk to the Council,” Obi-Wan says. “But this is an opportunity to atone for the actions I mentioned above.”

The vode look at each other, uneasy.

“You want this kept under wraps,” Obi-Wan guesses. “You’re concerned about the leak.” He taps his chin. “I can’t make this decision completely independently. If I could speak with Councilor Windu, that might be enough.”

“We can meet up with Commander Ponds on our way. He’s currently stationed on Bandomeer.”

Obi-Wan grimaces. That is a planet he would have been happy to never see again. “Bandomeer it is, then.”

#

Obi-Wan, fortunately, doesn’t have to touch foot on Bandomeer. He meets with Mace on The Resolute, because Cody doesn’t trust the security of Commander Ponds’s star destroyer. Mace isn’t exactly pleased with the plan to depose Satine or help the “Jedi Killer” rule an entire system, but Mace has been fighting on the edges of Mandalorian space and knows how important it is to fill the hole Satine has left them with.

With Mace’s blessing, Obi-Wan and a small transport leave The Resolute to meet with Fett and his contingent on a small planet on the border of Mandalorian space. Dedham seems ominously named, and Obi-Wan hopes it isn’t a sign of incoming trouble.

Admiral Kal’ika remained behind on The Resolute. Obi-Wan is accompanied by Commander Cody and his personal squad as well as Commander Alpha-17 and his personal squad. Eighteen vode and a Jedi. It should be more than enough for what’s supposed to be a peaceful negotiation.

Mand’alor Fett brings with him all the trainers who banded together after Kamino with the intention of retaking Mandalore. Mixed in with the trainers are the twelve members of the Null class.

Obi-Wan didn’t arrive unarmed, because that’s the quickest way to be dismissed by a Mandalorian, but he doesn’t do anything so gauche as to draw his sabers when he sees the size of Fett’s party. Obi-Wan is in his Jedi tunics with his Jedi weapons clipped to his belt. He keeps his wings tucked away, healed now but not needed for this introduction.

On his left is Cody. On his right is Alpha-17.

Obi-Wan steps in front of their escort and bows. “Mand’alor Fett. Thank you for agreeing to this meeting. I hope I can assist you and Commander Cody in finding common ground.”

Supposedly, Fett wanted this meeting, but Obi-Wan doesn’t see any sign of that willingness in the way he barely acknowledges the vode. He directs his response to Obi-Wan. “We’ll see, jetii.”

“Do you suspect a trap?” Alpha-17 isn’t wearing his helmet, either to show he isn’t afraid or because he wants to remind everyone that the vode share Fett’s face. Alpha-17’s smile is slow, borderline cruel. “We aren’t that kind of coward.”

The insult lands, but Obi-Wan isn’t sure how or why. Fett’s helmeted gaze snaps to Alpha-17. “Do you have an accusation, trooper?”

“It’s Commander,” Alpha-17 drawls.

Obi-Wan holds his hands up before one of them draws a weapon. “We’re here for a discussion. Commander Cody is the representative for his side. Mand’alor Fett, who represents your position?”

“I do,” Fett snaps. “And I know you aren’t neutral. If you think I’ll sit in a room with only the two of you—”

“Medic Mij,” Cody interrupts. “Trainer Vau, and three others of your choosing. You may, of course, choose two of the vode I bring as part of my party.”

He doesn’t pose it as a question, doesn’t give Fett the chance to refuse. After a bit more posturing, Obi-Wan leads the smaller groups into a meeting room that has been arranged expressive for this purpose. On one side of the long table is Fett, Mij Gilamar, Walon Vau, Kal Skirata, Spar, and Ordo. On the other is Cody, Alpha-17, Wooley, Fizz, Skid, and Jester. Obi-Wan sits at the head of the table.

Obi-Wan folds his hands on the table in front of him. He has a backless chair which means he can spread his wings out. He keeps them invisible, but after such a long time healing, they ache if he tries to keep them inside himself for too long.

“Representing the Haat Mando’ade is Mand’alor Jango Fett,” Obi-Wan says and he pauses to see if Jango has anything to add. When he doesn’t, Obi-Wan continues. “And representing the Republic is Marshal Commander Cody of the 3^rd Systems Army. We are here to discuss whether the Grand Army of the Republic will assist Jango Fett in reclaiming Mandalore from duch*ess Kryze.”

Fett’s sneer is obvious, even through his helmet. “You put her in power, and now I’m supposed to believe you’ll depose her?”

“As a representative of the Republic, I was assigned to Mandalore to oversee the elections that would determine the next ruler of the system,” Obi-Wan answers. He was prepared for this question. “Death Watch bombed the summit, and my assignment shifted to protect duch*ess Kryze and see her installed as the rightfully elected ruler.” He meets Fett’s helmeted gaze. “The situation has changed. There is now evidence that the rightful ruler of Mandalore is alive. The elections could be declared void and the Mand’alor restored. That is what we’re here to determine.”

“I don’t need your help,” Fett says.

“Need it?” Cody asks. He tilts his head, as if he’s considering. “No. With enough time and patience, Mandalore will be yours again. Our assistance would speed up the process and reduce the casualties on both sides. And it isn’t being offered out of pity. It will be a trade.”

“We won’t fight the Republic’s war,” Fett says.

“No, you’ll just breed an army to do it in your stead.” Alpha-17 bares his teeth, a reminder that neither side likes nor respects each other very much.

Obi-Wan’s been at tenser negotiating tables, but not many. He holds his hands up for peace before Fett decides to exercise some Mandalorian diplomacy and launch himself across the table.

“First, we must establish if Jango Fett intends to claim the title of Mand’alor and rule the Mandalorian system.”

“I do,” Fett says.

Obi-Wan nods. “Now, then, is where the fun begins. There is assistance the Grand Army of the Republic can offer, and there are things they want in return. As we’ve established, Jango Fett wants to be Mand’alor. Commander Cody has prepared what the vode want; to finish establishing a northern perimeter, citizenship for the vode, and answers.”

“A bit open-ended,” Kal Skirata drawls. He flips a switchblade open and closed.

“This is where we negotiate,” Obi-Wan says. “The northern perimeter. Commander Cody will detail what that means and then Fett will decide if it’s something he’s willing to offer and what he wants in exchange.”

Cody glances at the datapad in front of him, even though Obi-Wan is certain he’s memorized his talking points for today. “duch*ess Kryze’s neutrality leaves a hole in our perimeter the size of the Mandalorian system, and our enemy is able to exploit that weakness. We want to complete our perimeter, and we want assurances that if Mandalore intends to be neutral, it is truly neutral. Right now, its neutrality benefits the Separatists.”

“This is a more difficult ask than you pretend it is,” Spar says, and Cody shifts his attention to his vod. “There are three options. Make the perimeter around our system and leave us exposed to a Separatist attack, make the perimeter to include our system and leave us trapped inside Republic borders, or cut through our system and establish a Republic military presence in our system.”

“We have no desire to infringe on Mandalorian independence,” Cody says. “And, if you have followed the war, you’ll know we are uninterested in expanding the Republic’s borders. We are creating a perimeter to establish Republic territory, but we won’t conquer planets. Secession is legal.”

“You’re just a clone,” Ordo says. “Does your word carry any weight?”

Cody leans forward, something sharp and dangerous in his expression, a glimmer of Alpha-17, of Jango Fett himself. “Do the Republic politicians agree with our position? Not all of them. But all they have are words. I have the support and backing of the entire army.”

Ordo’s lips quirk up in a smile, as if he’s grudgingly impressed.

It’s enough for everyone to debate in good faith, and it’s a long, spirited discuss over the best way to establish a Republic perimeter. Excluding the Mandalorian system is the conclusion they come up with, with the promise of outposts on the edges of the Mandalorian system as an early warning system in case the Separatists decide to punch through Mandalorian space. There is a larger treaty to work out there, if the Republic owes aid to Mandalore if Mandalore is being attacked by the Republic’s enemies, but Obi-Wan makes a note of it and leaves it be for now.

Their next order of business is citizenship. Everything about this meeting is emotionally fraught, but this is an especially difficult topic.

“You are not our buir,” Cody says, his voice even, no hint of any of his complicated feelings toward the man across the table from him. “You did not raise us Mandalorian, you raised us to be fodder for the Republic, a government you despise. But if you are truly the Mand’alor, you have the power to grant us citizenship.”

Even though Fett wears a helmet, he goes through a range of emotions, and Obi-Wan is sure he isn’t the only one who can sense them. After a long moment, he removes his helmet and sets it on the table in front of him. He doesn’t hide the pain on his face or the deep lines of shame around his mouth.

“You’re right,” Fett says, and Cody is far too well-trained to startle, but Obi-Wan feels the flare of his surprise in the Force. “And this isn’t a negotiating point. It was my poor decisions that made you feel as though you aren’t Mandalorian, and I will correct that. Nothing is required in return. Once I am declared Mand’alor by our people and my sovereignty is acknowledged, I will name all of you as citizens. Anyone who chooses to leave the war and come home will be welcomed.”

That’s—that’s a monumental concession, and Obi-Wan isn’t sure if he’s more surprised that Fett would do it or surprised at how neither Cody nor Alpha-17 so much as twitch at the declaration. Is it because Fett was right, and he’s giving them something they should already have had?

Skid and Jester, eyes wide, turn to look at their superior officers, but the matching blank looks on Cody and Alpha-17’s faces cause them to hesitate. They look at each other and then their smiles dim as if they think shouldn’t be excited.

Obi-Wan isn’t the only one to watch as Cody and Alpha-17 exchange a flurry of hand signs and raised eyebrows, an entire conversation held in gestures.

“He doesn’t know,” Alpha-17 concludes, out loud, in Basic, which means he wants someone to ask the follow-up question.

“I don’t know what?” Fett asks.

“We will be glad to be Mandalorian citizens,” Cody answers. “And we appreciate the offer of a home. Some of us may even take you up on it. But we were made for the Republic.” An expression Obi-Wan can’t parse flits across Cody’s face. “We were made for the Jedi. We cannot desert en masse.”

“Made for the Jedi,” Fett mutters, something angry and bitter in his words.

The Jedi Killer, now the face of an army that was intended to report to Jedi generals. Obi-Wan had wondered if Fett knew that was the plan when he agreed to the template. And if he did, why would he have agreed? Are those some of the questions Cody wants answers to?

Cody folds his hands on the table in front of him. “We will assist you in taking Mandalore, because once you are Mand’alor, we will be granted citizenship. Once the Mandalorian system is under your rule, we will establish a Republic border and then provide aide and support if the Separatists target you because of it. There is one matter remaining.”

“Answers.” Fett looks wary, as if he isn’t certain what Cody will ask.

“You are known as the Jedi Killer,” Cody says, “and yet, you trained an army to serve and aide the Jedi. I know you did it for revenge, to expose Jedi hypocrisy by forcing the Republic’s peacekeepers to wage war, but who sought you out at the template? Who hired you?”

Fett leans back in his seat. His gaze flicks down the table, to where Woolely, Fizz, Skid, and Jester are now paying rapt attention. He looks at his own people next. And then he looks right at Obi-Wan as he answers. “It was the revival of an ancient alliance. I was approached by Darth Tyrannus to aid him in the destruction of the Jedi.”

Obi-Wan feels as if he’s taken another one of Grievious’s blows to the chest. Darth Tyrannus? The destruction of the Jedi? Jango Fett is working with the Sith, and between them, there is enough hatred and enough firepower to be successful in their endeavor.

“He was displeased when the Jedi didn’t jump blindly into the war,” Fett continues. He still stares at Obi-Wan, as if trying to suck all the pleasure he can out of Obi-Wan’s pain. “But my part was finished, and I wasn’t stupid enough to take the bounty on you. I can only imagine his fit when Grievous failed to kill you. And now?” Fett turns to Cody now, something sharp and proud in his expression. “You’re winning the war. Jedi incompetence was supposed to counter your training, but they let you lead, and you’re incredible.”

“That was the plan?” Obi-Wan asks, his voice barely above a whisper. “To put the Jedi in charge and have their inexperience and their blunders lead to thousands of vode deaths? What were you hoping for? The Jedi to Fall and become the monsters of your nightmares?”

“He wanted the vode to turn on the Jedi,” Cody says, his voice wooden, emotionless, as if he came to this conclusion long before today. “He wanted the galaxy to. To see the peacekeepers turned warmongers. To see their absolute failure in protecting those under their command and their arrogance in believing they were the best. The plan was always for the vode to kill our Jedi.”

“And now the plan has changed,” Fett says.

“It has,” Cody agrees. “We will not betray our Jedi. We will care for them, love them, protect them. Millions of men with your face, who will pledge themselves to the Jedi.” Cody’s lips curl up in a cruel smile that Obi-Wan has only ever seen grace Fett’s face. “We will help you take Mandalore, because it will benefit the Republic. We will accept Mandalorian citizenship, because it will strengthen our case to be Republic citizens. But you will never be more than our genetic template.”

That wipes whatever smugness that had been building on Fett’s face right off of it.

“What is his civilian identity?” Cody asks. “Darth Tyrannus? Who is he and how do we find him? I have more questions about our creation, and you can’t answer them.”

Fett looks one or two more pointed comments away from launching himself across the table. Even one-on-one, Obi-Wan doesn’t like Fett’s odds.

“Yan Dooku,” Fett answers.

Walon curses and Kal flicks his blade out as if he’s considering using it.

“The Villain of Galidraan?” Cody asks.

“We both want to see the Jedi Order brought low,” Fett answers. “But if you think I would let him live after he outlived his usefulness—”

“You have a plan,” Cody interrupts.

Obi-Wan’s mind is still reeling from this latest revelation as Cody and Fett debate the best way to assassinate Count Dooku. Aka Darth Tyrannus. Aka, Obi-Wan’s grandmaster. This—f*ck. This is going to break Qui-Gon. His first apprentice fell to the dark and his master has as well. A new thought occurs to him. Qui-Gon almost fell because of Tahl. Obi-Wan was tempted on Naboo. Is their entire lineage corrupted? If someone with Anakin’s raw power were to fall to the darkside…

“There are two,” Obi-Wan says, interrupting. “Sith. There are always two, a master and an apprentice.”

“We know,” Cody says. “And Dooku will lead us to his master.”

Obi-Wan opens his mouth and then, remembering his audience, closes it again. On Geonosis, Dooku told Qui-Gon that the Republic was under the control of a dark lord of the Sith. If that was true, and Obi-Wan has no reason to believe Dooku was lying, then the Sith master is hiding amongst their allies. It means the armies on both sides are puppets, dancing to the Sith’s tune.

Does it mean Dooku made a genuine offer to Qui-Gon when he asked Qui-Gon to join him? Not on the side of the Separatists, but as a Sith? If so, then it would make Dooku the apprentice. And he was looking not only to be reunited with his former padawan but to have an ally against the Sith master.

Is that something they can use to their advantage? Dooku’s sentimentality toward his former padawan? Obi-Wan flinches at the memory of the last time Qui-Gon went up against a Sith. And Darth Maul was a fresh apprentice. Dooku has far more power and cunning on his side. Would Dooku believe that Obi-Wan was willing to switch sides? He never knew Dooku, Qui-Gon kept his distance from Dooku as soon as he was knighted but maybe…

“We’ll assist you in becoming Mand’alor,” Cody says, interrupting Obi-Wan’s thoughts. “But it won’t be a coup. You will have to win the election fairly.”

Fett clenches his jaw, but he must be confident he’s better than Satine, because he gives a curt nod.

Chapter 13

Chapter Text

The decision for the vode to set up elections on Mandalore has ripple effects through the entire galaxy. There are those who believe this is a power grab, but whether it is the Jedi or the clones grabbing power, the general public can’t decide. The fact that part of Fett’s platform is citizenship for the vode if he wins, both makes the Republic fearful and makes the New Mandalorians doubt the sincerity of the elections.

It doesn’t help that Fett settles himself in Keldabe’s stronghold as Satine makes Sundari her own campaign headquarters. There are enough people who believe Fett will succeed, either lawfully or with help from the clones, that there is a rush to push some kind of Republic citizenship bill through the Senate. It’s the fastest that political body has moved since…well, in Obi-Wan’s lifetime.

Obi-Wan, of course, is a complicating factor in the Mandalorian elections. He’s Dooku’s grandpadawan and a Jedi, so Fett despises him. The fact that he’s proposing elections at all turns Satine against him. It’s a relief when Qui-Gon and Anakin arrive with The Resolute in order to become the face of the Republic involvement.

Obi-Wan spends most of his time either training with Rex and the rest of the Winged Company or looking over battle plans for the war happening outside Mandalore’s borders. It’s Cody who sits with Fett and Satine and works to provide protection within the system. It means Obi-Wan doesn’t see much of Cody, though, they did manage to secure shared quarters. He doesn’t always fall asleep with Cody next to him, and he doesn’t always wake up with Cody next to him, but for a few hours each night, they’re together.

And then Obi-Wan receives a highly encrypted message from one of his contacts on the Outer Rim. Obi-Wan reads Hondo’s message three times, before a small smile works its way across his face. The Force provides, he thinks, and then he comms Mace.

Once again, he meets Mace in orbit over Bandomeer, but this time, Obi-Wan takes a small transport on his own. He docks in The Saviin’s hangar. Mace and his commander, Ponds, are both waiting for him when Obi-Wan disembarks. Obi-Wan glances at Commander Ponds.

Commander Ponds straightens to attention at Obi-Wan’s look. “Councilor Windu says you have intel relevant to the war effort.”

Obi-Wan nods. “It is especially relevant to the Jedi’s side of the war.”

He trusts Mace to understand the, admittedly, flimsy code. Mace nods and then, to Obi-Wan’s surprise, gestures for Ponds to lead them to a private room. Obi-Wan isn’t sure why he’s surprised. He trusts the vode he serves with as well. But maybe he thought Mace would want to keep this a private Jedi affair. It already is a stain on the Order that Dooku left and became one of the top leaders of the Separatists. Now that news has got out that he’s a Sith…

Ponds brings them to a small room off the starboard bridge.

“How goes the Mandalore effort?” Mace asks once they’re sitting.

“Slowly,” Obi-Wan says. He waits for the anti-eavesdropping tech to click on before he adds, “but our principal aim is being achieved with speed. The Senate will vote on Republic citizenship for the vode this week.”

“You think it will pass?” Mace asks.

“Yes. The Senate was reluctant before, because they had a convenient, essentially free army. But now they’re afraid they’ll lose the vode to Fett if he becomes Mand’alor. It isn’t how I wanted citizenship granted, but the Senate wasn’t inclined to do the correct thing without a push. I didn’t come here to talk about Fett, though. I want to talk about Dooku.”

Obi-Wan doesn’t look at Ponds again, but he does wait a beat to see if Mace will limit the meeting to only the two of them, now that Obi-Wan has made it explicitly clear what he’s here to discuss.

Mace sighs and seems to age ten years as he drags a hand down his face. “Yoda is struggling with the revelation that his former padawan is a Sith. And he worries for Qui-Gon, bracketed with Yan on one side and Xanatos on the other.”

“Qui-Gon has Anakin,” Obi-Wan says. “And, he has me.”

If anything, Mace’s expression grows more strained. “Yoda still believes you were all that stood between Qui-Gon and a fall of his own after Xanatos.”

An unpleasant feeling grows in the pit of Obi-Wan’s stomach. Anakin’s a knight now. Mace can’t be implying… “Do you think Qui-Gon will take another padawan?”

“I’m not as connected as I would be if I were on Coruscant,” Mace says. He waves a tired hand around him to gesture to his ship. “But Yoda has what he thinks is a winning strategy. I’m worried he might assign Qui-Gon a padawan again.”

“As part of the command team, I’ve already alerted Admiral Kal’ika, Commander Cody, and Alpha-17,” Ponds says. “They know to prepare for a potential addition.”

That…that is a headache Obi-Wan will have to meditate on later. Maybe on the flight back to Mandalore. But he came here for a purpose, and it wasn’t to untangle the complicated mess of his lineage. “Do you remember my mission reports from my time as knight? Several of them involved a weequay pirate by the name of Hondo Ohnaka.”

“Opportunistic, morally gray, but not evil,” Mace says. “And talks about himself in the third person.”

Obi-Wan nods. And then he slides the message he received over to Mace. Mace’s shock flares in the Force as he tilts the message so Ponds can read it as well.

“A ransom?” Ponds asks.

“Hondo is motivated by money and by pride,” Obi-Wan says. “He has somehow captured Separatist General Yan Dooku, and he’s willing to sell him to the highest bidder. As a personal friend,” Obi-Wan rolls his eyes, “I’ve been offered the first chance.”

“Is it a genuine offer?” Mace asks, as if he’s considering it.

Obi-Wan’s smile is sharp. “Money and pride,” Obi-Wan reminds him. “How better to increase his profits than to have a Separatist and Republic hostage to ransom?”

“A trap,” Mace says. He sets the message down and rubs his chin.

“Qui-Gon taught me to spring a trap,” Obi-Wan says. “I have an idea, but you may not like it.”

“If it’s something you learned from Qui-Gon, I’m certain I won’t like it.” Mace sighs and then gestures for Obi-Wan to speak.

“I know it’s a trap. Most likely, when I arrive to make the payment, Hondo will insist we celebrate and drug me in some way so that he’ll have both Dooku and myself as hostages. I propose to let him succeed.”

“You want to get yourself captured,” Mace says. “I’m sure I’ll regret this, but why?”

“Prison-bonding,” Obi-Wan answers. “We know Dooku is a Sith, most likely the apprentice. And, if what he told Qui-Gon on Geonosis can be trusted, the second Sith is hidden deep in the heart of the Republic. We need their identity and, quite frankly, we’ll need help defeating them.”

“You want to turn Dooku into an ally.”

“I want him to think I’m an ally,” Obi-Wan says. “I think he was genuine on Geonosis when he asked Qui-Gon to join him. Dooku has always been proud, but he isn’t a man who enjoys solitude. I want to offer myself as a partner and ally against the second Sith.”

“He’ll never believe it,” Mace says.

“No?”

Mace gives Obi-Wan a hard look. “He was on the Council. He knows about New Apsolon. And, even if he’d left the Order by then, he would have heard about Naboo. You are a beacon of light.”

Obi-Wan allows his smile to turn sharp. “We’re not going to be permanent allies. We’ll work together to escape Hondo and then to take out a shared threat, the Sith master. And then, yes, I imagine he’ll try to kill me, but you’ll know his identity and the Sith controlling the Republic will be gone.”

“I was right,” Mace says. “This is something you learned from Qui-Gon.” Mace’s gaze flicks to the window, where Bandomeer is in their view.

Obi-Wan bristles, even though he knows it gives away more than he’d like. “I am not the child I was when I was on Bandomeer. I am a Jedi master and councilor. I made a vow when I became a knight to pledge my life to the service of the Force. I’m not going into this planning to die at Dooku’s hands, but we can’t ignore this opportunity because I might not survive it.”

“You believe this could work?” Mace asks.

“Dooku and I have something in common,” Obi-Wan says. “We both want the second Sith dead. We’ll both play nice long enough to see that happen.”

Mace gives a slow nod, as if he wishes he didn’t agree.

#

When Obi-Wan lands on Mandalore, his plan set and an account with enough credits to meet Hondo’s demands, he is met by Captain Rex, who is bucket-less and beaming.

“It passed, then?” Obi-Wan asks.

“With a comfortable majority,” Rex answers. “The vode have Republic citizenship. Of course, it’s complicated things here, but it wasn’t as though this was smooth sailing before.”

Obi-Wan laughs and claps Rex’s shoulder. “Congratulations to you and your vode. Backpay was promised?”

Here, Rex’s expression darkens slightly. He guides Obi-Wan through the spaceport to the speeder waiting for them, Fives in the driver’s seat. “At the end of the war, every vod who served faithfully will receive payment for their service and a home on one of the Republic planets, which has agreed to offer homesteads and secondary citizenship.”

Not great conditions, so Obi-Wan understands Rex’s frown. It will keep the vode beholden to the Republic and fighting the war, and will, no doubt, discourage desertion to Mandalore if Fett does win the election. The vode’s citizenship shouldn’t have to be bought with their blood or their military service. It shouldn’t be contingent on them surviving a war they never asked to fight.

A new, troubling thought, reaches Obi-Wan. If there is, in fact, a Sith on each side of the war, will it ever end? Did the Republic Sith help push the bill through knowing they never intend the war to be over? Obi-Wan drags a hand down his face. He can’t focus on that right now. He has a mission of his own. A mission that if he succeeds with, will aid in ending the war.

“Alderaan, Chandrila, and Naboo are part of the coalition of planets offering us a home after the war,” Rex says as Fives take them to where the vode have set up their own base, between Sundari and Keldabe. There are garrisons in each of the major cities, but headquarters is in neutral territory.

“All three are good planets,” Obi-Wan says. “I am quite partial toward Alderaan, and I’m sure Anakin will happily talk your ear off about Naboo given half the chance.”

They chat lightly about the other planets involved in the citizenship bill. Fives keeps looking over at Rex and then looking back at the road. It happens enough, that Obi-Wan is uneasy as they park in the garage attached to their headquarters. Something else has happened while he was away.

Cody and Alpha-17 are waiting for them when Fives parks the speeder. Cody is wearing his helmet, but his tone is sharp and clipped as he asks, “Did you have a pleasant trip?”

Obi-Wan is almost certain Cody knows what happened on The Saviin. Given that it certainly wasn’t Mace who told, it must have been Ponds. Obi-Wan knows the vode’s loyalty is to themselves before anyone else, and he’s glad they have a network of trust and support, but it is frustrating when it works against him.

Obi-Wan’s own smile is light, and his tone even lighter as he answers. “I spoke with Councilor Windu about my next assignment as I am rather wasted here on Mandalore.”

Fives, smarter than some give him credit for, makes himself scarce.

“We’ll confirm the final details of you mission in my office,” Cody says.

He turns on his heel and walks away, clearly expecting to be followed. Alpha-17, who goes without his helmet on Mandalore as a point of pride or to make as many uncomfortable as possible, grins at Obi-Wan and then jogs to catch up to Cody. Obi-Wan looks at Rex, who offers no sympathy. With a sigh, Obi-Wan follows.

Once the four of them are in Cody’s office and Cody has checked to make sure it’s secure, he crosses his arms over his chest. “You’re going after Dooku alone? Your plan is to be taken hostage alongside him and hope he decides to use you rather than kill you?”

“It’s a good plan,” Obi-Wan says. Mace agreed and he’s almost as protective of Obi-Wan as Cody is.

“You aren’t going alone,” Cody says.

Obi-Wan bites back his protest, because Cody’s tone is that of Marshal Commander Cody. This isn’t a discussion or a debate. It’s an order. And, as Alpha-17 once told Anakin, the Jedi have a choice in the war. If their choice is to serve alongside the vode, then they will follow orders.

“Who do you propose to send with me?” Obi-Wan asks. It’s a fight to keep his voice even, but it’s worth it for the brief surprise that flits across Cody’s face. He expected Obi-Wan to dig his heels in.

“I’m going,” Alpha-17 says, and he doesn’t phrase it as a question either. “You need someone with experience at your side.”

“You do realize the odds are much higher that Dooku will kill you than me?” Obi-Wan confirms, because he has to at least remind them that while Dooku might spare his grandpadawan, he will feel no sentimentality toward a clone of Jango Fett.

Alpha-17’s smile bares all his teeth. “I wouldn’t mind if he tried.”

“I need his cooperation long enough to uncover the identity of the second Sith and kill them,” Obi-Wan says.

A look passes between Cody and Alpha-17, more information that Obi-Wan isn’t privy to. He is more in the loop than he had been, but it’s a reminder that he is still a Jedi, an outside consultant, the vode are a cohesive unit. A dark voice whispers in his head. The vode were made to destroy the Jedi. Can you truly trust them? The voice sounds like Fett. It sounds like Dooku and Xanatos, and Obi-Wan shoves it away.

“We’ll kill the Sith,” Alpha-17 promises.

Cody clears his throat. “There is a second matter I wished to discuss. Ponds and Wolffe both reached out with their concerns that we may gain another Jedi.”

“I heard Qui-Gon might take another padawan,” Obi-Wan says carefully. It doesn’t surprise him that Ponds said something given Mace’s concern, but Wolffe? What is Plo Koon telling his commander? And why?

“Master Jinn isn’t aware of this,” Cody says. “And it is my professional opinion that he is in no state to care for a child.” Cody’s expression softens a fraction. “He has…struggled with the news about Count Dooku.”

Obi-Wan sighs and feels his entire body slump with it. “I know. He and Dooku never got along, that was obvious from the way he spoke about his former master and how I was never introduced to him, but the man still raised him. If my master turned to the Sith, I would fear what influence he might have had on me. If the seeds were darkness were planted in me when I was too young to recognize them.”

He can only imagine Qui-Gon’s struggle. Maybe he does believe he carries Dooku’s corruption. Xanatos fell to the darkside, and Qui-Gon almost followed suit after Master Tahl’s death. Does he fear himself now? He had been spending most of the day in meditation before Obi-Wan left. Was he still doing the same? Is there someone Obi-Wan can ask to join them on Mandalore since Obi-Wan will be leaving on a mission?

“A child cannot be given the burden of saving him,” Cody says, his voice firm, his feet braced as if he’s expecting an argument. “He is struggling, and it is understandable, but this is his struggle.”

“I know,” Obi-Wan says. Knight Vetras and Knight Makkar are still with their team. He’ll have to ask them to keep an eye on Qui-Gon and maybe even meditate with him when they can. But they are knights, and they’ll know to reach out to a master or a councilor if things get bad. A padawan cannot be expected to guide Qui-Gon out of this darkness.

Obi-Wan catches the surprise on all three of the vode. He smiles, a touch sadly. “It was my responsibility last time. I know the cost. I don’t regret it, and if I could stay here and help him through his doubt, I would, but I can’t. I am needed elsewhere. Mace is still in orbit around Bandomeer. If you are concerned about Qui-Gon, reach out to Mace, and he’ll come. How are the preparations for the elections?”

Alpha-17 groans.

Rex grins. “Fett and Kryze are both giving speeches and making videos and they’re as awful as you’d expect. But public opinion is tilted in his favor. Especially with the galaxy at war, Mandalorians want safety and protection. They think Fett can offer it.”

Obi-Wan nods. “He knows if he wins, he can’t kill Satine or make her disappear, right?”

“Unofficial exile on Kalevala or a position in his government,” Cody says. “He’ll leave the decision up to her.”

“I told him in order to show his commitment to unification, he should marry her.” Alpha-17 grins and touches his cheek. “He tried to punch me, but either he’s slow or we are better.”

“This is why he’s going with you,” Cody tells Obi-Wan. “I need him to stop antagonizing the Prime. Or—” Cody speaks loudly and over Alpha-17—“the Cuy’val Dar , the Nulls, or the New Mandalorians.”

“But you don’t care if he antagonizes me?” Obi-Wan asks. He touches a hand to his chest. “I’m hurt.”

“You have Force-blessed patience,” Cody says. He glares at Alpha-17 again. “You can go now.”

Alpha-17, uncowed, looks between Obi-Wan and Cody and smirks. “Should I bring Rex with me, or does he get to watch?”

Rex holds his hands up before Cody can snap at him. “I will leave voluntarily and without comment.” He knocks his shoulder into Alpha-17’s. “Come on.”

Point apparently made, Alpha-17 follows Rex out without any more trouble. Cody exhales deeply and leans back against his desk. Obi-Wan waves his hand to secure the lock on the door and then he steps into Cody’s space. It’s easy to tip his chin up and kiss him. Cody relaxes into the kiss, as if all he needs is Obi-Wan, and his world is better. If only Obi-Wan could remain at his side at all times.

Obi-Wan shifts to kiss the corner of Cody’s mouth and then the shell of his ear. He dips his head to kiss Cody’s neck, right where his skin meets his blacks.

“Be careful,” Cody says. He doesn’t demand Obi-Wan return to him alive. He doesn’t demand Obi-Wan do everything he can to protect Alpha-17 or kill Dooku or save the Republic. He asks for Obi-Wan to be careful.

It’s Obi-Wan’s turn to exhale, his breath ghosting over Cody’s neck. He rests his forehead against Cody’s shoulder. “I will be careful,” Obi-Wan promises. “I know Hondo. I have more tricks than he does. If there’s true danger, I can get Alpha-17 and myself out.”

“Good.” Cody presses a kiss to the top of Obi-Wan’s head.

Noise from the hallway reminds Obi-Wan that they don’t have as much privacy as he’d like. He straightens and then leans against the desk next to Cody. They’re close enough to touch, but it isn’t as intimate as they were before. “What’s Alpha-17’s problem with the Nulls?”

“What?”

“I understand why he’s antagonizing Fett, the trainers, and the New Mandalorians, but the Nulls are vode, aren’t they?”

Cody’s lips twist in a bitter smile, an answer even before he speaks. “If they were vode, they’d be fighting alongside us.” He sighs and taps his fingers on his thigh plates. “The Prime traded all of us for Boba. It was sh*tty, but it was something that bonded us together. We were vode. We might not have the Prime, but we had each other. The Nulls…they left. Kal Skirata gave them an out, and they took it. Boba didn’t know any better, but they did. They chose Skirata, they chose themselves, over the rest of us. Alpha-17 isn’t the only one who has a problem with them. He might be the only one who could take them in a fight, though.”

“You could,” Obi-Wan says.

“I’m not going to start a diplomatic incident to prove it,” Cody says. He rubs his forehead. “I knew this would be a sh*t assignment. And I knew there wasn’t anyone else we could ask to do it, but I wish—” Cody cuts himself off before he finishes the thought. He shakes his head. “No point in wishing.”

There should be, Obi-Wan thinks. Once this war is over, you’ll be free to dream. He leans in for another kiss. It isn’t much, it doesn’t make up for the myriad of ways the galaxy has screwed Cody and his vode over, but it’s all Obi-Wan can give right now.

#

The day Obi-Wan and Alpha-17 are set to leave, a ship lands at the vode base. It’s a small transport, built for speed, and built so many years ago, it may as well be an antique. Obi-Wan knows it’s from the Coruscant temple, even before he feels the Force signature on it. Whoever is on that ship is untrained, because their fear and anxiety and wonder slips freely from their shields.

They’re also young.

Obi-Wan looks over at Cody. Once he knows he has Cody’s attention, he makes a series of quick signs. Cody’s spine stiffens, and he strides forward to meet the landing ramp as it descends. Four vode march in pairs, and they each offer Cody a sharp salute before they step to the side and reveal another passenger.

The togruta that steps confidently down the landing ramp is young. Her eyes are round and wide and they take up most of her face. She looks around the room, noting the other ships docked here and the scattered workers and mechanics. Her gaze lands on the security squad, and her hands drift toward the twin sabers clipped to her belt.

“Hi,” she says, uncertainly, and lacking the formality or discipline of the vode. “Grandmaster Yoda sent me. I’m Ahsoka Tano.”

“Well met, Ahsoka Tano,” Obi-Wan says. He steps forward and offers her a bow.

Her eyes somehow grow even wider at the sight of him. “Councilor Kenobi.” Her bow is deeper and unpracticed, she almost overbalances and stumbles.

“Are you here on assignment?” Cody asks, as if they don’t all know why Yoda has sent her here.

Ahsoka reluctantly pulls her gaze away from Obi-Wan. It’s clear that this isn’t going the way she expected. Obi-Wan can’t help but wonder if Yoda told her there would be a Jedi master waiting for her at the end of her journey. Is that why her gaze keeps darting back to Obi-Wan? Is she concerned she’ll be a Council padawan? All Obi-Wan knows is that she will not be Qui-Gon’s. Yoda’s influence may have put Ahsoka Tano on a ship, but it doesn’t extend all the way to Mandalore.

“I’m here to be trained,” Ahsoka says.

Cody removes his helmet and offers her a warm smile. “Then, you will be trained. I am Marshal Commander Cody.”

Ahsoka nods, absently, as she looks around the room as if trying to spot another Jedi. Obi-Wan recalls seeing Qui-Gon earlier this morning. He has spent most of his days investigating the wastelands, still ravaged by the dral’han. He is strong with the Living Force, and there is a lot of healing still left for Mandalore to do. Obi-Wan wonders if Yoda suggested Qui-Gon be here to greet the ship or if it never occurred to him that Qui-Gon would have found busy work to bury himself him.

“I—” Ahsoka seems to realize she’s being rude by ignoring Cody. Her lekku twitch as if she wants to hide. She turns a pleading look on Obi-Wan, as if she hopes he’ll explain to her what’s happening.

It isn’t quite the clusterf*ck that was Obi-Wan’s surprise padawanship, but this surely isn’t what she spent years dreaming of. Obi-Wan gentles his expression and comes to stand next to Cody.

“Welcome to Mandalore, Ahsoka Tano. You arrived here as an initiate, but you will be a padawan of the Jedi Order before you leave.”

Even with the warning, Obi-Wan still can’t believe Yoda would try this again. He wonders if Knight Makkar or Knight Vetras is interested in a padawan. Qui-Gon certainly isn’t, and Anakin is still too young.

“Did Master Jinn forget I was arriving?” Ahsoka asks.

Cody responds before Obi-Wan can, anger crackling down his spine. “You were assigned to Mandalore, and the 212^th attack battalion.” Cody waits for Ahsoka’s nod before continuing. “That puts you under my care and command. I would like to assess your strengths, your weakness, and your preferences, and then we can develop a training plan for you.”

Ahsoka blinks those large blue eyes at him. “You’re going to train me? Are you Force sensitive?”

Obi-Wan can feel it, the moment building in the Force, even before Cody turns to him. He almost says yes, almost answers before Cody even asks, but he manages to hold his tongue.

“Would you assist me in providing Ahsoka with a well-rounded education?” Cody asks. His posture is military-stiff, and his words are clipped and efficient, but in the Force he yearns.

Obi-Wan is aware that the occupants of the hangar have stopped moving. He’s almost certain Wrench is recording this moment on his helmet-cam. Obi-Wan meets Cody’s gaze. “Are you asking to raise a warrior with me?”

Cody nods.

Without his permission, Obi-Wan’s wings snap out, fully extended and a deep, brilliant gold. Ahsoka gasps at the display, but Cody doesn’t take his eyes off Obi-Wan’s face, waiting for his answer.

“Yes,” Obi-Wan says. “Mhi ba’juri verde.” We will raise our children as warriors.

It is the last part of the Mandalorian wedding vows. He will speak the other three with Cody, later, in private.

For now, he turns back to Ahsoka. She’s still staring at his wings. She doesn’t understand what has passed between Obi-Wan and Cody. She hasn’t noticed the way the others in the room are holding back cheers and whistles and a flood of excitement.

“I leave today on a mission,” Obi-Wan tells Ahsoka. “Before I go, I will settle you in your rooms here. I will introduce you to the other Jedi on Mandalore. They will help you with your meditations and any questions you have about the Force. But Commander Cody will be in charge of your education and training while I’m gone.”

“And when you’re back?” Ahsoka’s excitement has dimmed, replaced with wariness, as if she hears what Obi-Wan is saying. He won’t name her his padawan before he leaves.

“When I’m back, Cody and I will discuss how to train you together,” Obi-Wan answers. He doesn’t say if I come back, because Ahsoka is too young for him to fill her head with such worries. He will make sure to speak with Mace before he goes and put a plan in place for who will supplement Ahsoka’s training if he does not return from his mission.

“I’ll be good while you’re gone,” Ahsoka promises. “I’m a quick learner. If you leave me holos or training videos, you’ll see. I won’t disappoint you.”

Obi-Wan hadn’t planned on taking a padawan, certainly not during a war, but he looks at Ahsoka and knows he will train her. The Force had a plan, and he might be the last to know of it, but he will embrace it. He gives in to urge to touch his thumb to Ahsoka’s chin. He tilts her head up so she meets his gaze. “You are not a disappointment,” he tells her. “I would not do you the disservice of taking you as my padawan and then making my first act as your master leaving you behind. Cody will look out for you while I’m away. Not as a substitute, but as a teacher and guide in his own right. Listen to him as you listened to your instructors at the temple. He will guide you.”

“I don’t like blasters,” Ahsoka tells Cody. She’s wary, as if she accepts to be criticized for this failing.

“It’s important to be familiar with a variety of weapons, but you don’t have to be skilled with every one,” Cody tells her. “We’ll start with saber training, as you’re familiar with it, and hand-to-hand, in case you’re ever without a weapon.”

Ahsoka smiles, flashing sharp teeth, and a hint of personality. “As long as I live, I will always have a weapon. Have you ever seen a togruta hunt?”

Obi-Wan smiles, knowing Ahsoka will be in good hands while he’s gone.

Chapter 14

Chapter Text

When Obi-Wan and Alpha-17 depart for their mission, Obi-Wan’s armor has a gold sunburst painted on it. He and Cody exchanged vows and then exchanged symbols, a sunburst for Obi-Wan and a feather around Cody’s wrist.

Obi-Wan had plucked the feather from his own wings and then gently, carefully, wrapped it around Cody’s left wrist. Obi-Wan’s feathers are a manifestation of his Force presence and so, the feather around Cody’s wrist might look like a tattoo, gold ink curled over brown skin, but it’s more than that. It’s a commitment, a fledging bond, and as Obi-Wan and Alpha-17 pilot their ship out of Mandalore’s orbit, Obi-Wan can feel the way Cody strokes two fingers over the feather.

It's a long flight to where Hondo is holed up, and Obi-Wan is restless and more than ready to get off their ship once they land in the small spaceport. Hondo greets Obi-Wan with more greed than pleasure in his smile, and when he clasps Obi-Wan’s hands, his touch lingers, as if he’s already imagining the cuffs around Obi-Wan’s wrists.

Obi-Wan reminds himself this is all part of the plan and forces himself to smile and be charming. But when Hondo asks, “What’s this?” and moves to touch Obi-Wan’s fresh paint, Obi-Wan takes an alarmed step backward and Alpha-17 growls deep in his throat.

“Are congratulations in order?” Hondo asks. He doesn’t touch the sunburst, but he beams at it, as if he can see Obi-Wan’s value tick up.

“I’ll accept a discount on a Separatists general,” Obi-Wan says drily, because it has been two years, but he knows how to handle Hondo Ohnaka.

Hondo laughs and shows Obi-Wan the footage of Dooku’s cell where the Sith is being kept. There are blue energy cuffs around his wrists, and Obi-Wan wonders if it’s the cuffs or the cell itself that blocks the Force. He supposes he’ll figure out soon enough.

“Are you sure you can handle him?” Hondo asks. “I would hate to transfer a hostage and get a friend hurt.”

“Are we friends?” Obi-Wan asks, even as Alpha-17 bristles, irritated at the slight against their skills.

Hondo’s smile stretches across his entire face. “Very dear friends, Obi-Wan. Come, as friends, let’s share a drink.”

#

Obi-Wan wakes slowly, with a heavy head and an ache behind his eyes. It’s what he expected, so he doesn’t panic at the feel of hard ground beneath him or the buzz of energy cuffs around his wrists. He blinks a few times, until he adjusts to the dim lighting of his cell. He sits up and looks around.

His cell, like Dooku’s, is plain. There’s a thinly cushioned slab jutting off the wall to serve as a bed. There’s a faucet for water and a privacy wall where there is, at least, a proper a toilet instead of a hole in the ground. Unlike Dooku’s cell, Obi-Wan’s has two occupants. There are cuffs around Obi-Wan’s wrists, and there’s another energy wire that links his cuffs to Alpha-17’s.

Alpha-17, who has been stripped down to his blacks, and who is also cuffed at the wrists. Obi-Wan takes inventory of himself. He’s in his trooper blacks as well, but he can see the pile of his clothes and armor from the cell. His clothes are folded neatly, his lightsaber nestled on top like a taunt. But what makes his stomach twist is how his chestplate is propped against the wall so he can see the sunburst. Perhaps, Hondo meant it as a comforting gesture, but Obi-Wan feels it as sharp as a beskad wound.

Alpha-17’s armor is in a haphazard pile next to Obi-Wan’s things. His lip curls in disgust. Hondo is more acquaintance than friend, someone who Obi-Wan doesn’t like but tolerates. He thinks his tolerance will be near zero after this mission. At least, he won’t have to fake his outrage when Dooku prods at him.

Speaking of Obi-Wan’s grandmaster…

Obi-Wan shuffles over to the wall between their two cells. Dooku is stretched out on his bunk, somehow looking regal and refined without any of his usual trappings. He no doubt knows Obi-Wan is awake, but he still waits a good five minutes before he deigns to look over. The arrogance on his face is nothing new, if Qui-Gon’s stories are any indication of what Dooku was like before he left the Order and turned to the Sith.

“Count Dooku,” Obi-Wan greets as if they’re as soiree and not prisoners of a greedy pirate.

Dooku sits up. His lips curl into an amused smile. “Master Kenobi. Or do you prefer Councilor?”

“Titles have never held much weight for me,” Obi-Wan says. He matches Dooku’s smile with an insincere one of his own. Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon had a rocky apprenticeship, but Obi-Wan knows Qui-Gon hadn’t particularly enjoyed his own time as a padawan. He spoke of Dooku rarely and always with a bitter twist to his words or a heavy look in his eyes. Master Dooku had been a demanding teacher, and Qui-Gon always fell short. Obi-Wan wondered, sometimes, why Qui-Gon hadn’t learned from that experience and been kinder with Obi-Wan. He promises himself Ahsoka will never feel uncertain as Obi-Wan’s padawan. She will be supported, both through her successes and her struggles.

“I see you are enjoying our host’s hospitality the same as I am.” Dooku glances past Obi-Wan to Alpha-17, curled on the ground, looking for all the galaxy, sound asleep. Obi-Wan has been around the vode enough to know Alpha-17 isn’t asleep. Without the Force, Obi-Wan doubts Dooku can tell.

Speaking of no Force…Obi-Wan rolls his shoulders, an itch between his shoulder blades, because his wings feel bound, and he hates it. He hasn’t been in Force suppressors since he came into his wings, and the feeling is quite unpleasant. It makes him vulnerable, his back unprotected, unable to flee, to fly if necessary.

Obi-Wan doesn’t have to fake his disgruntlement. “Is this the source of the Force suppressant?” Obi-Wan holds up his bound wrists.

“The guards aren’t exactly chatty,” Dooku says. After a moment, he relents, his mask slipping slightly. “Yes. After my first escape, they restricted the use of the Force.”

“You had the Force, and you couldn’t escape a few pirates?” Obi-Wan asks.

Dooku gestures to Obi-Wan’s current predicament.

“I was tricked by a business associate,” Obi-Wan says. “Completely different.”

“A business associate?”

As much as Dooku tries to appear aloof, Obi-Wan catches the way he leans forward slightly, as if eager to hear Obi-Wan’s answer. He’s…lonely, Obi-wan realizes. And it’s more than being a hostage, though Obi-Wan is sure that factors into it. This is the tragedy of the Sith, isn’t it? The master searches for an apprentice to train so they will have someone who understands them, but the apprentice is always searching for how to kill the master. There is no safety, no security, no family in the Sith.

Obi-Wan is careful to keep the pity out of his expression and his voice, but he makes a note of this realization. He’ll be able to use it. He isn’t sure when yet, but it will be an important advantage.

“I spent several years as a knight on the Outer Rim,” Obi-Wan answers. “I have dealt with Hondo more than once. I should have known that having two high profile hostages would be too much for him to resist.”

“The great negotiator, outsmarted by a backwater pirate.” Dooku sniffs, as if he finds Obi-Wan wanting.

“Too much trust,” Obi-Wan agrees. “Well, lesson learned.” He glances at Alpha-17. “I suppose I should get this over with.” He tugs on the energy line connecting them, and Alpha-17 jerks ‘awake’ immediately. He rolls up to his feet, crouched, prepared for an attack. When it doesn’t come, he looks around. His gaze follows the blue energy from his wrists to Obi-Wan’s.

“Kinky,” Alpha-17 says.

Obi-Wan laughs, and it’s genuine, surprised out of him. “I won’t tell Cody if you won’t.”

Alpha-17 snorts. His amusem*nt fades as soon as he sees his armor in sight but out of reach. He flexes his fingers as if he’s wishing for someone to attack. Obi-Wan tugs on the connection between them again. He tilts his head toward the second cells. “Where are your manners? Have you met Count Dooku?”

“Not officially.” Alpha-17 steps up to the bars separating them. He bares his teeth in a smile that’s far from friendly. “It won’t be a proper introduction until I can wrap my hands around his throat and squeeze. I’m Seventeen.”

Obi-Wan notes the name change and commits it to memory. For whatever reason, Alpha-17 doesn’t want Dooku knowing he’s part of the Alpha class. How well does Dooku know the clones and their ranks? Would he know that the alphas have certain advantages the other batches didn't?

“Seventeen of over three million.” Dooku is back to being haughty, not even a veneer of respect in the way he addresses Alpha-17. “I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised at the lack of creativity in names. I have met your progenitor.”

“They made us better than him,” Alpha-17 says. He had been tense when he first woke up, bristling with anger, but he’s calmed slightly since realizing Obi-Wan isn’t bothered by their situation.

“A very low bar, I assure you,” Dooku tells him.

“Strange that you two worked together,” Obi-Wan says. He sees the slight shift in Dooku’s posture. He pretends not to notice. “Master Jinn says he was at your side on Geonosis. You would think there was too much bad blood between you two to be so civil.”

“It’s amazing what common ground you can find with a common enemy.” Dooku relaxes, as if Obi-Wan had raised his concern and then put it to rest in only a few short sentences.

Obi-Wan smiles at the opening Dooku has given him. “Amazing, indeed.” He flashes a smile and then goes to stand at the wall of his cell that faces the hallway. Let Dooku stew on that for a bit. Obi-Wan can’t come across too eager without Dooku realizing it’s a trap, but Obi-Wan is sure they’ll have plenty of time to see each other as allies.

Alpha-17 comes to stand next to Obi-Wan. The extra length of the blue energy hangs between them. It’s the same thing that’s around their wrists, so Obi-Wan knows it won’t burn his skin or his clothes if it touches them. He experimentally tugs on his bindings. The blue energy doesn’t burn, but it does cut at his wrists when he tries to break free.

Alpha-17 gives him a look and then tries the same thing himself.

“You’re not that much stronger than I am,” Obi-Wan says.

Alpha-17 just grins. It fades quickly, given where they are and their circ*mstances. He taps out a pattern on Obi-Wan’s side, hidden from the cameras by their bodies. Status?

Clear, Obi-Wan taps in return.

Alpha-17 narrows his eyes, a promise that they will have words about this once they’re free. Cody and Obi-Wan debated reading Alpha-17 fully into the mission, but they were worried he wouldn’t be able to allow himself to be drugged and captured.

#

Obi-Wan eats his full portion of whatever meal they’ve been brought. There is no way to tell the passage of time, whether this is first meal or last meal or something in between. Without the Force to draw on, Obi-Wan can’t supplement his meals. He can’t help the face he makes as he swallows the mushy vegetables.

“Better than GAR rations,” Alpha-17 says.

“Desert scrag is better than GAR rations,” Obi-Wan says. He and Alpha-17 exchange a smile, almost able to hear Anakin’s voice between them. Obi-Wan spent enough time on the Outer Rim, and Tatooine, that he and Anakin can commiserate over Tatooine’s less than ideal cuisine.

They also shared more pleasant memories. Tatooine spices are fantastic, even if they were developed out of self-defense and to keep from having to know what, exactly, womp rat tastes like. Obi-Wan’s always maintained that street vendors are the way to learn a culture’s food, not state dinners, and Tatooine’s markets always boasted a wide variety. Grilled cactus fruit might be his favorite from Tatooine.

“How long until a rescue arrives?” Dooku asks. He’s picked at his own food, but does, eventually, clear his plate as if he knows nothing better is forthcoming.

“A rescue?” Obi-Wan laughs as he sets his own empty plate aside. “With the amount of money I lost and getting myself taken hostage, I doubt the Republic is too eager to see me released.”

“You’re a Jedi Councilor and one of the top military minds in the GAR,” Dooku says. He rolls his eyes at the look Obi-Wan gives him. “We are at war, it means I know and respect my opponents’ skills. You have a talent for war, Kenobi.”

Obi-Wan can’t help his small flinch. Alpha-17 leans against his side, his bulk familiar and warm, an offer of comfort that Obi-Wan needs. A talent for war, indeed. He can almost feel the blaster in his hands, and he can hear the Young shout as they jumped out of their hiding places to ambush a Daan raiding party.

“I learned young,” Obi-Wan says. “But, we are at war, and the Jedi learned their lesson well on Geonosis. There likely won’t be a rescue.”

“You led the rescue on Geonosis, if I recall,” Dooku says. He stares as if he can see Obi-Wan’s wings, as if they haven’t been trapped and bound, hidden not only from sight but also from Obi-Wan himself. “Your men will come for you, even if the Jedi won’t. You’re f*cking the commander, aren’t you?”

Obi-Wan startles at the curse word falling so easily from Dooku’s lips. And then he narrows his eyes, furious that Dooku would dare speak about Cody. He ignores Alpha-17’s protest and stands at the bars between his cell and Dooku’s. “Don’t talk about him.”

Dooku seems amused that he was able to provoke Obi-Wan. He looks past him at Alpha-17, and his smile grows. “You have quite the loyal following. I hope you haven’t earned all their loyalty the same way. Seems exhausting.”

Obi-Wan grips the bars, and his outrage is more real than he’d like it to be. “They’re loyal to me, because I care about them.”

“And are they as loyal to you?” Dooku’s gaze glitters, cold and cruel.

Alpha-17 moves to stand next to Obi-Wan. He’s taller than Obi-Wan, bulkier as well, and he acts as a shield against Obi-Wan’s back. “Yes,” Alpha-17 answers.

“We’ve been stationed on Mandalore,” Obi-Wan says, because it isn’t a secret and because there might be a rescue coming, and he only has so much time to work his plan on Dooku. “I wondered why Jango Fett, renowned Jedi Killer would allow an army with his genetics to work with the Jedi and the Republic. He claimed he’s a bounty hunter, but you and I both know there are some wounds money can’t overcome.”

Dooku is interested and it makes him dangerous. He’s as cut off from the Force as Obi-Wan, but Obi-Wan suspects if he reveals too much, Dooku will find a way to kill him regardless.

“It didn’t take much to get the truth out of him,” Obi-Wan says. “Some tihaar, a bit of reminiscing, and he opened right up. The destruction of the Jedi. He wanted to take the galaxy’s peacekeepers and put them at the forefront of a war. He wanted to prove that Galidraan wasn’t a mistake but the Jedi’s true nature. He wanted to see our image tarnished, our vows broken, our souls destroyed.”

“And?” Dooku asks. His voice is barely above a whisper, but his interest is clear.

“We aren’t the Prime,” Alpha-17 says, and his voice startles both Obi-Wan and Dooku. “We’re better. We don’t serve the Jedi, we serve with them.”

Dooku’s smile is terrifying, because Obi-Wan knows what’s behind it. He knows that Dooku pities Obi-Wan for thinking the vode are loyal and that he’s delighted that Obi-Wan doesn’t know they were created by a Sith to not just destroy the Jedi’s souls but also their bodies. The Jedi Order is supposed to be shattered by an army of Jango Fett’s clones. And Dooku can’t wait to see it happen.

“So much pride,” Dooku coos to Alpha-17. “How it must rankle, then, to also work with Fett. Is that why you came on this little mission? To escape your maker?”

“He’s useful at the moment,” Alpha-17 says. His tone is flat, almost bored. “Isn’t that why you worked with him?”

“Your goals aligned,” Obi-Wan adds, because Dooku is hooked and listening. “You and Fett wanted to see the destruction of the Jedi Order. Who would you work with to see your master dead?” Dooku rears back, but Obi-Wan presses his advantage. “Qui-Gon told me about Geonosis. You told him there was a Sith in the Republic. You even offered to become a partnership again. I’m your grandpadawan. Would you work with me to overthrow the second Sith?”

“Qui-Gon didn’t believe me,” Dooku says, and there’s a note of genuine hurt in his voice, as much as he tries to cover it up.

“I do,” Obi-Wan says. “And all I want in return is your help in removing Fett when this is over.”

“Removing?” Dooku’s lips curve up in a mocking smile. “Come now, Kenobi, no need to dance around our meanings.”

“Fine.” Obi-Wan allows himself to press back against Alpha-17 for a moment and draw strength from him before he says, “After the Sith master is dead, I want to land on Mandalore with you at my side. I want to stride into the Keldable Royal Palace, the Mand’alor’s stronghold, and I want to see Fett’s face as you complete what you began on Galidraan.”

“How bloodthirsty of you,” Dooku says, and his approval makes Obi-Wan’s skin crawl. While Obi-Wan wants Fett to face consequences for what he’s done, he doesn’t want to see him tortured or killed. Dooku shrugs and looks around his cell. “But I’m afraid all our plans mean nothing so long as we’re kept here.”

“We’ll find a way out,” Obi-Wan promises. “I’ve been in much worse situations.”

“Like what?” Alpha-17 asks. He guides Obi-Wan away from the shared wall as if he doesn’t want Dooku’s influence to touch Obi-Wan. It’s a sweet, if misguided gesture, but Obi-Wan allows himself to be shuffled to the slab that serves as their bed. It’s a narrow bunk, even for one person.

Alpha-17 presses Obi-Wan up against the wall and then fits himself in the remaining space. It leaves Alpha-17’s back exposed but Obi-Wan protected by the wall on one side and Alpha-17 on the other. He would huff, except he knows being imprisoned is far from easy for Alpha-17. If this can give him any measure of comfort, Obi-Wan won’t mock it or yank it away.

“I was in a Force collar when I was twelve,” Obi-Wan says quietly, this story only for Alpha-17, not for Dooku or Hondo, if the pirate has mics and not only cameras set up. “Then, I was alone.” Obi-Wan breathes deeply. He closes his eyes, but there are no memories of Bandomeer waiting for him. He is warm from being so close to Alpha-17. He has the comfort of Alpha-17’s strong, steady heartbeat. This isn’t Bandomeer. Obi-Wan is not a child anymore, and he is not alone.

#

Obi-Wan chats with the guards, because he’s always been a social person. There are a few who don’t talk back, one who looks at Obi-Wan in a way that makes his skin crawl, but there are two who are either bored or think Obi-Wan is a more interesting conversationalist than their crewmembers.

It’s from the bothan that Obi-Wan learns Jango Fett has been officially elected Mand’alor. And it’s from one of the many weequay that make up Hondo’s crew that Obi-Wan learns Hondo’s greed might cause some issues for the pirates.

Hondo has the payment Obi-Wan brought for Dooku’s ransom, but his and Alpha-17’s capture is widely known. It means neither the Republic nor the Separatists are eager to make another deal. There’s talk of attacks from one side, from the other, from both, and it makes the crew uneasy. They’re used to raids and the occasional firefight, not a full-on assault from a military power.

Hondo’s visits are rare and full of bluster. He is confident he’ll make it out of this mess, the same way he’s made it through every other he’s landed himself in. Obi-Wan isn’t sure how the pirate does it, but his luck is well known.

There is a phindian pirate that Obi-Wan doesn’t care much for. He knows it’s speciest, but he sees the elongated skull, the green skin, the yellow reptilian eyes and it reminds him of Moralo Eval. This pirate doesn’t have the kill count or sociopathic tendencies that Eval has, but Obi-Wan is still wary.

The phindian’s cruel smile doesn’t do anything to set Obi-Wan’s fears at ease. He likes to bring them their meals and hold Obi-Wan’s out of reach until Obi-Wan asks for it politely. Their interactions are marked by petty power plays, ones that Obi-Wan caves to, because he doesn’t have any other options.

Gevran is his name, and today there is something hungry in his eyes as he approaches the cell. The tray he shoves carelessly into Dooku’s cell is filled with unappetizing food. The second tray has more on it, because Alpha-17 and Obi-Wan share a cell, but there’s a bowl of fresh fruit along with their standard fare. Obi-Wan can’t help the way his eyes are drawn to the fruit, his mouth watering at the sight.

“Show me your wings and it’s yours,” Gevran says. His tongue flicks out, scenting the air. He doesn’t have the empathy levels that Obi-Wan does, but he can taste certain pheromones. He likes anger the best, especially with Alpha-17 and Obi-Wan locked impotently behind bars. Does that mean it’s helplessness he craves most of all?

Gevran plucks a cube of fruit from the bowl and pops it between his lips. “Are they as pretty as the rest of you, Jedi?”

“Take these off and I’ll show you,” Obi-Wan says. He holds his bound wrists out in front of him.

Gevran laughs and grinds another piece of fruit between his teeth. “I’m not stupid. But you don’t have to be conscious for me to see them. They must ache if they’ve been bound as long as your wrists.”

They do ache, and Obi-Wan glares at Gevran for reminding him. Sometimes, Alpha-17 will rub Obi-Wan’s shoulders or dig his elbow along Obi-Wan’s spine to try and soothe the phantom itch. But there is nothing to make it completely go away. Obi-Wan’s wings, his self has been bound and trapped, and the longer he’s in this cell, the most his mind screams at him to be free.

Gevran eats the entire bowl of fruit with Obi-Wan and a bristling Alpha-17 as his audience. And then he shoves their tray into Dooku’s cell and saunters off. The food isn’t appetizing, but it’s better than nothing, and Obi-Wan feels a flicker of frustration at being denied even this basic need.

“Will you kill him?” Dooku asks, his voice curious. Unlike Gevran, he doesn’t withhold while waiting for the answer he wants. He takes the tray and slides it through the bars between their cells.

Obi-Wan stares at it, looking for the trap. It’s Alpha-17 who takes it with a grunt that could, maybe, be interpreted as thanks.

“You’re angry,” Dooku says, and his voice is more of a hiss than Gevran’s, something serpentine about it as it slips and searches for the cracks in Obi-Wan’s defenses.

Obi-Wan is here to create a tentative truce with Dooku and to team up with him to kill the Sith master. He is not here to become a Sith himself, and he won’t play at it, even for the sake of their plan. He glares at his grandmaster. “I won’t kill out of anger or hate.”

“You could,” Dooku says. “The power in the darkside, it’s like nothing you have ever touched at the Temple.”

“Through power, I gain victory,” Obi-Wan says, recalling his lessons on the Sith code. “Through victory, my chains are broken.” He shakes his bound wrists, but the energy cuffs don’t fall off. He shrugs. “Looks like the darkside doesn’t help as much as you think.”

“I should have come to you after Naboo,” Dooku says, and Obi-Wan detects a hint of genuine regret in his tone. “Qui-Gon kept us apart during your apprenticeship. All I had were secondhand accounts of the ‘perfect padawan’. I bet you were glorious when you slew Maul.”

“I did my duty,” Obi-Wan says. “I defended the Republic against a Sith threat.”

“You avenged your master.”

Obi-Wan looks away. He doesn’t tell Dooku what happened afterward, how Obi-Wan was tempted by the dark but stood firm in the light. That is something private, something for Obi-Wan, for Qui-Gon, not for this man who pretends to be a part of their lineage still.

“The Sith wants Skywalker,” Dooku says, shifting topics, but it’s only a slight shift, and the cruel glint in his eyes says he knows it. “He is the Chosen One, destined to bring balance to the Force. And the Sith have been reduced to shadow for so long. It is time for balance.”

“You won’t have him,” Obi-Wan snaps, and he knows it’s the wrong reaction, because Dooku smiles, pleased, and Obi-Wan hates it.

“He was raised by Qui-Gon,” Dooku says. “He wouldn’t be the first of Qui-Gon’s padawans to Fall.”

Obi-Wan steps up to the bars, even though Alpha-17 tugs on their connecting line to try and coax him back. “Xanatos Fell because he wanted the power of a Jedi without the oaths or commitment of one. He chose his father over the Order and then kept developing his skills without someone to help him guard against the dark.”

“Anakin was supposed to Fall for his mother,” Dooku says, and his smile is truly terrifying now. If Obi-Wan could move, he would back away from the bars, retreat to Alpha-17’s side, but he’s frozen in place. “You prevented that. But he’s a passionate boy. Perhaps, it’ll be his senator he Falls for instead.”

Obi-Wan takes a deep, shuddering breath. He knows he’s rattled. He knows Dooku can see it. He can’t hide it, so he’ll have to use it. “Is this your way of saying you’re bored, Count? You’re ready to escape and kill your Sith master?”

“You can’t save everyone,” Dooku says. He sits on his bunk and closes his eyes, apparently done with their conversation. “Not even the darkside offers that kind of power.”

The light offers Obi-Wan the power to save those he can and the strength to endure those he loses. This time, when Alpha-17 tugs on their connection line, Obi-Wan goes. He sits next to Alpha-17 and leans against his side. He shakes his head when Alpha-17 offers him his portion of their meal.

“Next time Gevran comes,” Obi-Wan says quietly.

Dooku is right about one thing. It’s time they leave.

Chapter 15

Chapter Text

It’s easier than it should be to convince Gevran to open the doors to the cell. He thinks Obi-Wan bound and helpless, cut off from the Force. How he thinks Alpha-17 is helpless with just a set of energy cuffs around his wrists, Obi-Wan doesn’t know. But he’s happy to take advantage.

Gevran steps into the cell, and Obi-Wan slinks forward. He can’t pull off demure or shy, not with adrenaline coursing through his veins. Gevran doesn’t seem put off by Obi-Wan’s predatory gait. It’s another mistake in what will be a short line of them. As Obi-Wan moves, so does Alpha-17. Gevran doesn’t register what’s happened until the energy line connecting Obi-Wan and Alpha-17 is wrapped around his neck.

“You—” he begins, staring at Obi-Wan in shock.

Alpha-17 jerks the line, pulls it tight, and Gevran’s life blinks out. Alpha-17 gives the line enough slack for the pirate’s corpse to slump to the ground.

Obi-Wan shouldn’t be surprised, and yet, he finds he is. Surprised and disappointed. “We agreed unconscious, not dead.”

“I underestimated my own strength,” Alpha-17 says, a blatant lie. He leaves Gevran’s body for his armor. It’s only a matter of minutes before he and Obi-Wan are freed from their bindings and are fully dressed and armored.

Obi-Wan clips his two sabers to his belt as he stretches out his wings. He wants to preen his feathers, he wants to fly, but he’s still stuck in this narrow hallway of a pirate’s compound. It isn’t time. Not yet, at least. Alpha-17 grabs the bundle of Dooku’s personal items. He’s wearing his helmet but he exudes smugness as he clips Dooku’s saber to his belt.

Dooku makes a low sound, what Obi-Wan would call a growl if it was anyone else. Obi-Wan gives Alpha-17 a look, warning him to quit instigating their unlikely ally.

“I’m going to clear us a way out,” Alpha-17 says. He makes a show of switching his blaster setting to stun, but Obi-Wan has a feeling it’ll be back on kill by the time Obi-Wan reunites with him. Obi-Wan doesn’t waste his breath on words. Alpha-17 will do what he intends to do. Even if Obi-Wan was a general and not an outside contractor, he doubts Alpha-17 would obey him.

“Your sentimentality will get you killed,” Dooku says as Obi-Wan uses Gevran’s fingerprint to open Dooku’s cell.

“Would you like me to leave you here?” Obi-Wan asks with arched eyebrows.

“You aren’t freeing me out of sentimentality,” Dooku says. “You need me.”

“And you need me,” Obi-Wan says. He gestures for Dooku to go first, down the hallway Alpha-17 had gone down only a few minutes earlier.

“Unlike you, I don’t resent it,” Dooku says. “You are far from my unlikeliest ally. But I would be far more assistance with these gone.” He raises his bound wrists.

Obi-Wan laughs and urges him to move faster. They’re not far behind Alpha-17, but the hallway bears evidence of his presence, bodies slumped against the wall and prone on the floor. “Seventeen has our escape handled.”

Obi-Wan follows the trail to the hangar. The ship he and Alpha-17 came in on is still there. The landing ramp lowers once Obi-Wan inputs the code. He escorts Dooku to the co*ckpit, sits him in the copilot’s chair, and then fires up the engines. Once the ship is warmed up and ready to go, Alpha-17 joins them.

“We could blow it on the way out,” Alpha-17, but he sounds more hopeful than anything else.

Obi-Wan raises the landing ramp and them flies them out of the hangar. It takes some fancy flying and a few rolls to avoid the gun turrets mounted on the compound, but they break atmo without taking any damage. None of them relax until they’ve made their first hyperspace jump and even then, it’s a sigh of relief, not pure relaxation. They’re all aware that they’re an unlikely partnership.

Obi-Wan checks the damage to his ship. He isn’t surprised to see the comm system knocked out. There won’t be any contacting the GAR or the Council from their ship. It’s probably for the best, anyway. Obi-Wan turns his chair to face Dooku. “Who’s the Sith master?”

Dooku smirks and manages to lounge in his own chair. Obi-Wan’s tempted to use the Force and flick the latch which will drop the back from the chair just so he can watch Dooku fall in an undignified heap to the floor. Instead, Obi-Wan hits the latch on his own chair so that it’s back-less and he can stretch his wings out.

“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you,” Dooku says.

Obi-Wan doesn’t have the patience for these games. “You have two choices,” Obi-Wan tells him. “You tell us who the Sith master is and we help you kill him, or I bring you back to the Jedi Council to face trial for your crimes.”

“The Council on Coruscant?” Dooku’s laughter is low and disturbing, a reminder that this is a Fallen Jedi, not Obi-Wan’s grandmaster or even a Separatist politician. “You would deliver me right to my master. You can see his base of operations from your precious temple.”

Coruscant is a dense planet. There is a lot of real estate that can be seen from the temple, but there is one glaring, obvious point of interest.

“The Senate?” Obi-Wan asks. “The Sith master has infiltrated the Senate?”

Dooku laughs again. “He’s done far more than that, my boy. Darth Sidious is how I know him. You know him as the Supreme Chancellor of the Republic, Sheev Palpatine.”

“No,” Obi-Wan says, reflexive, because the Chancellor can’t be a Sith. Only…He knew there was a high-level leak. It’s why the Jedi were excluded from so many talks, why vode command began to shut their own out, trying to limit who knew what because someone was talking when they shouldn’t. He knew the Sith was in the heart of the Republic. He knew there was something he didn’t like about the man and his interest in Anakin—

“Oh, Force,” Obi-Wan whispers, because while he can sense Dooku’s glee, he knows Dooku isn’t lying. He’s taking pleasure in Obi-Wan’s realization that this whole time, the war has been conducted by a Sith. The Jedi have answered to a Sith, their ancient enemy, and they don’t even realize it.

“This complicates things,” Alpha-17 says drily.

“We know exactly where he is,” Dooku says.

On Coruscant, in view of the Jedi temple. Hysteria rises up, but Obi-Wan shoves it down. He can’t afford to break. Not when the future of the galaxy is on the line. The Chancellor is a Sith. That means— “Naboo,” Obi-Wan says. “The vote of no confidence. He—”

“For years,” Dooku says. “He has been working against you for years, and you never noticed.”

Obi-Wan can’t let Dooku rattle him. He closes his eyes and draws on the comfort of the Force, now back at his fingertips. “I’ve noticed now. His reign of terror ends. We go to Coruscant.”

“The three of us?” Dooku scoffs. “I’ve been preparing for this moment for years. I have allies.”

“So do we,” Alpha-17 says.

“Your progenitor may have killed a few Jedi, but you aren’t made to kill Sith,” Dooku sneers. He looks at Obi-Wan. “I have been training three acolytes. We’ll need them.”

And when Sidious is dead and it’s four Sith against Obi-Wan and Alpha-17? Obi-Wan figures he’ll deal with that issue when it arrives. First, they have to actually defeat Sidious. He gives a weary nod and plots their course using the coordinates Dooku gives him.

#

They switch ships when they reach the coordinates. Obi-Wan’s small shuttle fits easily within the Venator-class battleship that Dooku smugly shows off. It was a Republic ship before it was stolen and mounted with even more guns than the original design supported. It isn’t a massive vessel, there are still only six of them as a crew, but Obi-Wan is grateful for the extra space once he’s introduced to Dooku’s acolytes as he calls them.

Asajj Ventress is a Dathomirian zabrak with bone-white skin that makes her blue eyes shine eerily. Her lips pull into a cruel smirk as Dooku makes the introductions, and she caresses her lightsaber hilts as she looks Obi-Wan over and finds him lacking.

The other two are also Dathomirian zabraks. The older one has fully formed cranial horns, but some of them have been severed or broken. He wears yellow tattoos on his brown skin, and he curls his lips in a snarl as he’s introduced. Savage Oppress. The younger one, Feral, has the same brown skin and yellow tattoos, in a different pattern, and his cranial horns as still coming in.

Dooku, now connected to the Force again, leaves to take a shower and change into fresh clothes. Once he’s out of sight, Alpha-17 shifts into a better position to defend Obi-Wan in case this turns into a fight.

“He’s not much, is he?” Ventress asks the other two zabraks. She laughs as both they, and Obi-Wan, bristle. “What does that say about your brother, then?”

Savage growls and lunges at Ventress. She lifts her leg and kicks him solidly in the chest, sending him sprawling back on the floor. In an instant, she’s standing over him, two red blades crossed at his neck. Feral shifts his weight side to side as if debating whether or not he should interfere.

Ventress smirks as if she knows Feral won’t attack. And with Savage held in place by her lightsabers, she doesn’t see him as a threat either. She looks over her shoulder at Obi-Wan. “You butchered their older brother. Do you remember him? Red skin, black tattoos, ugly as f*ck?”

Two of Dooku’s acolytes are Maul’s brothers? Forget surviving Sidious, Obi-Wan may not even make it to Coruscant.

“I remember him,” Obi-Wan says evenly, voice not betraying his fear. “Darth Maul. He was a proper Sith, an apprentice. Where is acolyte on the Sith hierarchy?” It’s Obi-Wan’s turn to smile, and it’s a fake, stretched thing that hurts his mouth.

Ventress leaves Savage on the floor to stalk toward Obi-Wan. He stands his ground, even as she brings one of her blades close enough to his face for him to feel the heat of it. “We’re going to kill Sidious, and then I will become Dooku’s apprentice. And my first act as Darth Soror will be bring him the mangled corpse of his failed apprentices. Vosa’s already dead, but Aveross and Jinn are still out there.”

Obi-Wan grabs Ventress’s wrist and twists until her blade is pointed at the floor, not him. She shrieks, outraged, and brings up her second blade, but he grabs that wrist too. He walks her back until she hits a wall, and he pins her wrists above her head, her sabers unable to protect her.

“You won’t touch him,” Obi-Wan tells her. He’s protected Qui-Gon from one Sith apprentice, and he’ll do it again if he needs to. Maul had been fury and rage, strong, brutal emotions, but Obi-Wan understands now that he had a measure of control, or what passes for it amongst the Sith. Ventress, Savage, and Feral, they’re undisciplined. It means their power fluctuates, has easy openings and weaknesses.

Ventress’s need for approval makes her desperate. Her attempts to prove her worth make her cruel. Obi-Wan won’t underestimate her, but he won’t fear her either. He is a Jedi master, a councilor, and this is not his first fight against the dark.

“And picking a name already?” Obi-Wan tsks his tongue as he releases her and steps back. “Hasn’t anyone ever told you that pride comes before a fall?”

She hisses at him and stalks off. It leaves Obi-Wan and Alpha-17 with the two males. Savage isn’t on the floor anymore, he stands next to his brother, the two of them watching Obi-Wan as if looking for the best place to bury a blade.

“I didn’t seek out a fight with Maul,” Obi-Wan says. “He chose to fight me. And he lost.”

“We won’t lose,” Savage says. Next to him, Feral nods in agreement. “Tyrannus says Sidious first, but once he’s dead, we’re coming for you.”

Alpha-17 shifts, reminding them he’s here.

“A clone won’t stop us,” Savage says, but he keeps a careful eye on Alpha-17 now, prepared for an attack. “We know our history. Tyrannus defeated your maker. We can take his knockoffs.”

“I look forward to the battle,” Alpha-17 says.

#

It’s a tense flight to Coruscant. Obi-Wan and Alpha-17 mostly stick to themselves, because Obi-Wan doesn’t trust the self-control of Dooku’s so called acolytes. When they finally arrive, it’s the codes for the ship and then Obi-Wan’s councilor codes that grant them access to the spaceport. Obi-Wan feels a shiver of unease, a whisper of traitor, as he helps a Separatist general and Sith land in the heart of the Republic.

Given that they’re here to assassinate the Chancellor, Obi-Wan thinks traitor might actually be an apt descriptor for what he is now. Their party, wearing hoods to obscure their faces, use a back-entrance to the Senate building that Palpatine apparently created in order for his minions to sneak in and out undetected.

Obi-Wan prays to the Force that they defeat Sidious. He doesn’t ask for his own life or even Alpha-17’s to be spared. If his life is what’s needed to eradicate the Sith, it’s a fair price to pay. Dooku and Ventress lead the way, far too confident with the path, while Savage and Feral bring up the rear. Obi-Wan doesn’t like being surrounded by his enemies, nor does he appreciate the reminder that the fight against Sidious is only the start. If they do defeat him, there’s another, equally dangerous threat.

The numbers are not in Obi-Wan and Alpha-17’s favor. They were not permitted any communication on the flight here. Obi-Wan couldn’t tell Cody they had escaped Hondo. He couldn’t tell him who the Sith is, in case they fall here. It’s entirely possible that Cody will find out Obi-Wan’s alive from a news broadcast accusing Obi-Wan of working with the Separatists to assassinate the Chancellor.

Actually, that would be a politically astute move, and he bets Dooku will do it. He wonders where the cameras are. Already set up where they’ll have their showdown? Pinned to Dooku’s cape or Ventress’s armor?

They’re nearing the Chancellor’s office when they’re met by a squad of troopers in the red armor of the Coruscant guard. The trooper leading the squad holds up a hand and his men come to a halt.

Dooku raises a hand and his party comes to a stop as well. Obi-Wan’s heart wedges itself in his throat. Killing Sidious is one thing. He cannot, he will not allow Dooku to kill the vode.

“Commander Fox of the Coruscant Guard,” the lead trooper says. He tilts his helmet and gives the impression of looking past Dooku at Alpha-17. “I hear we’re going to assassinate the Chancellor.”

Alpha-17 pushes past Dooku and Ventress. He clasps Fox’s forearm and then taps their helmets. “Knew I could count on you.”

“What is this?” Dooku demands, his voice thin and icy.

“You aren’t the only one with allies,” Alpha-17 says. “And if anyone deserves to take a swing at Palpatine, it’s the Guard.”

“He’s a sh*t boss,” Fox says. “He’s also in the recreation room, not his office right now.” He waves his arms. “Helps to have someone on the team with his schedule. Would you like an escort? I know how to avoid the security cameras.”

Sometimes, Obi-Wan is reminded that the vode are an army, that they are trained and terrifying. “I’m glad you’re on our side,” Obi-Wan says.

There’s a curl of amusem*nt from Dooku before he gestures for Fox to lead the way. They don’t encounter anyone else in the hallways, either because not many people frequent this area of the Senate or because Fox has cleared their path. When they reach the recreation room, the doors open for them, ominous, and Obi-Wan knows worse waits for them inside the room.

Fox, showing the bravery of Cody, of Alpha-17, of Rex, and countless vode Obi-Wan has met, enters first. “Chancellor, you have visitors,” Fox says as if this is a normal audience and there isn’t a Separatist general and Jedi councilor here to kill him.

Palpatine—Sidious—stands in the middle of the open room. He wears normal clothes for his station, has thick if graying hair on his head. His eyes crinkle and his lips turn up, but there’s no warmth in the expression.

“Always so dutiful, Commander Fox,” Palpatine says mockingly. “Who have you brought me?”

“Your apprentice and his guests, along with Councilor Kenobi and his guest.”

“Guests?” Palpatine’s laughter is no warmer than his smile. “Come, Tyrannus, no need to be shy. Let’s see this team you believe can defeat me.”

Dooku hesitates a moment before he strides into the room, flanked on one side by Ventress and on the other by Savage and Feral. Obi-Wan and Alpha-17 follow after them, but they stand to the side, clearly setting themselves apart. Palpatine looks over Dooku’s group with a sneer, but his face doesn’t twist into true rage until he sees Obi-Wan. “Kenobi,” he hisses. “You have been a thorn in my side, but your arrogance today will be your downfall.”

Obi-Wan knows this interaction is being recorded or, at least, the intention is to record it. He summons a pleasant, if insincere smile. “Sheev Palpatine, with the authority of the Jedi Council and the Republic Senate, I am here to arrest you for treason. Will you submit yourself to Republic justice?”

“I am the Republic!” Palpatine raises his voice, and the air grows thick with his anger. If Obi-Wan had any doubts that Palpatine is dark, he would no longer have them. Palpatine is more than a senator from Naboo turned chancellor. “You are the traitor, conspiring with Separatists against your own leader!”

If they were in public, maybe his words would have some effect, but no one here is sympathetic toward Palpatine. Obi-Wan’s wings stretch out behind him, visible and almost intimidating in their spread. “How do you answer?” Obi-Wan asks. “You are accused of treason and of being a Sith.”

“You think because you faced Maul, you are capable of defeating me?” Palpatine laughs as he gathers lighting in his hands. He throws it, aimed at Dooku and his group. The four darksiders are frozen in place, as if they didn’t expect an attack so soon. Obi-Wan jumps in front of them. He catches Palpatine’s lighting on his wings, and it crackles, bursts of pain shocking through his system. And then Obi-Wan pumps his wings, a single, powerful flap and throws the lightning back at its source.

Palpatine brings his lightsaber up in time to catch the lightning on the blade and deflect it into the ground. The blade is blood red. It doesn’t hum in the Force, so much as whimper. Obi-Wan’s heart aches for the crystal trapped inside the hilt.

“Force lightning and now a red saber,” Obi-Wan says as he draws his own blades. “You are a Sith, then.”

“I am the Sith master!” Palpatine shouts and Obi-Wan prays someone has transmitted that to every public feed in the galaxy. “I will rule the galaxy and grind the Jedi beneath my heel. For centuries, you have thought yourself safe, grown lax in your little temple. But we were never gone. We bided our time, chipped away at your power and influence, and you were too stupid to notice. But now, it is time to come out of the shadows.”

Palpatine, holding his saber in one hand, raises his other hand and calls more lightning to him.

“You killed my brother,” Feral says and then he charges, his own saber raised. Palpatine easily bats him aside with a flick of his wrist and command of the Force. Savage howls and is the next to charge.

Obi-Wan, seeing the battlefield taking place, returns his sabers to their place on his belt. He throws his hands out to catch the maelstrom Palpatine gathers around him. Between Dooku, Ventress, and the Nightbrothers, there are enough sabers in the fight. Obi-Wan finds the dark tendrils of Palpatine’s power, and he attacks those instead, weakening him as Dooku and Ventress leap forward to duel the Sith master.

“Guard him!” Alpha-17 shouts, the last thing Obi-Wan is aware of before he submerges himself in the Force.

Palpatine was right, he is far more powerful than Maul was. Obi-Wan has never encountered anyone this powerful or this corrupt. When Obi-Wan tries to fight Palpatine with the Force, the dark tendrils of his power swarm Obi-Wan to try and wrap him up, restrain him. It’s a relentless assault, and at one point, Obi-Wan drops to the floor, his wings wrapped tightly around himself to protect him. The tendrils narrow into points to jab at him and break through his defenses.

Obi-Wan thinks about the temple, in view of this building, where he grew up and the next generation of Jedi is being raised. He thinks about Cody and Rex, working with the Prime on Mandalore to secure a future for their vode. He thinks about Ahsoka Tano, the guarded hope in her eyes as if she doesn’t expect Obi-Wan to return and raise her. Obi-Wan thinks about all the Jedi, scattered across the galaxy, working with the GAR in order to uphold their vows and protect those who need protection.

He draws on the strength of the entire Order, and he flings his wings out. A powerful gust pushes all the tendrils back. Palpatine gasps. Obi-Wan stands, his wings stretched proudly behind him. They glow and Palpatine flinches back from the light. Ventress lands a blow to Paplatine’s leg, and the Sith curses and stumbles.

She only has one saber now, and when she goes for the follow-up strike, Palpatine punches her. He must have the Force behind the strike, because his fist catches her in the mid-section, and Ventress flies across the room.

Palpatine hisses and shields his eyes with one of his hands. “You,” he sneers and hatred pours from his mouth, from his hands, from his very aura.

With a flap of his wings, Obi-Wan pushes the onslaught back. He stands taller at the realization that he can stand against this evil. And, of course he can. “Luminous beings are we,” Obi-Wan says, recalling something Grandmaster Yoda has told him many times. “The darkside will not prevail.”

Palpatine’s skin blisters and burns, the stench horrible, but Obi-Wan doesn’t tuck his wings away. He isn’t sure he can. The Force is channeled through him, and it is determined. Palpatine calls more lightning to his hands, but it sparks and fizzles before he can throw it at Obi-Wan. He reaches for his other powers, but his Force push doesn’t even feel like a breeze. Palpatine is darkness and shadow, and it cannot withstand the light.

A red saber cuts off Palpatine’s head. All the power gathered inside Palpatine’s body explodes outward and this time, Obi-Wan is knocked off his feet. He lands hard on his ass. When he gathers his bearings again, Dooku is standing over Palpatine’s body. His eyes glow yellow, tinged red by the lit saber he still wields.

“I am the master now,” Dooku says, his deeper than it had been before.

“Master and apprentice,” Ventress says, coming to stand beside him. “As it is and always should be.”

Obi-Wan glances at Savage’s body, broken and limp on the ground. There is no life in Feral’s either, but his hand rests on his brother’s ankle, as if in the end, he wasn’t trying to kill Palpatine or prove himself to Dooku but protect his older brother. Obi-Wan’s heart aches for Maul, a tool in Palpatine’s plan and now Savage and Feral, caught up in the same plan. Cannon fodder in a larger power struggle, the way the vode were supposed to be.

“You are accused of treason against the Republic and of being a Sith,” Obi-Wan says with a feeling of déjà vu. “Will you surrender to Republic authority?”

Dooku tips his head back and laughs. Chills dance down Obi-Wan’s spine. There will be no surrender, which means there will be another two bodies added to the count before this day is over. He looks at Ventress in case she might have more sense than her master, but she calls her second saber to her hand and bares her teeth.

“Do you truly think one Jedi can stand against the power of the darkside?” Dooku asks.

“I am not alone,” Obi-Wan says. Alpha-17 comes to stand on his right. Spaced out around the room is Fox and his squad, all of the vode still standing.

Dooku’s lips split in a smile. “Execute Order 66.”

Obi-Wan’s chest draws tight, and he braces himself for something.

Nothing happens.

Dooku’s eyes flash dangerously. “Did you hear me, trooper?” he demands, ire focused on Alpha-17 now. “I said, Execute Order 66.”

“I am Alpha-17. You have no authority over me.”

Obi-Wan doesn’t understand what’s going on, but he has a bad feeling about it. Dooku was behind the creation of the vode, and now he thinks he can give them orders?

Dooku finds Fox in along the wall. “You! The Jedi are traitors to the Republic.”

Fox tilts his helmet, as if he’s considering Dooku’s words. “Are they? The only traitors I see are holding red blades. Alpha-17, what is the standing order for traitors?”

“Execution,” Alpha-17 answers, something deep and savage in his tone. He draws the vibroblade from its sheath on his left vambrace.

“Kill them,” Dooku orders.

Ventress springs into action, her red blades whirling as she meets Alpha-17’s attack. Fox’s squad joins the attack. Obi-Wan and Dooku break off from the group in unspoken agreement. Obi-Wan draws his sabers and holds them in front of him in a classic Soresu starting stance.

“I trained her,” Dooku says with a nod toward Ventress. “You think I don’t know how to fight a dual wielder?”

“You also trained Komari Vosa,” Obi-Wan says, and he notes the flash of pain in Dooku’s eyes at the reference to his former padawan. “If I’m not mistaken, Ventress wields her blades. Does Ventress know she’s a poor replacement for your previous padawan?”

“Komari was weak,” Dooku says.

He and Obi-Wan circle each other. Obi-Wan knows Makashi, not well, because Qui-Gon had no interest in his master’s form, but it’s a psychological battle as much as a physical one. Has becoming a Sith made Dooku too unstable to use his preferred form most effectively?

“She loved you,” Obi-Wan says. He grew up in the temple with the whispers of Komari Vosa. A promising padawan who cared for her master too much. She was dismissed from the Order for conduct unbecoming of a padawan. She loved her master, and he allowed her to be cast out for it. Does the guilt eat at him still? The child he was sworn to train and raise, to protect, and he failed her so completely and utterly?

“She died for me,” Dooku says. “The Sith demand a sacrifice to prove loyalty, and she was mine. If you think her memory will weaken me, you’re wrong.”

Dooku launches into an attack, almost too fast for Obi-Wan to defend against. Komari’s memory might not weaken Dooku, but it does distract him. He attacks without thought or strategy. He knows enough about Obi-Wan to find his weak points and jab at them, but he doesn’t. Instead, he drives at him, red saber a glowing, dangerous threat.

Obi-Wan blocks the strikes with his sabers and leaps out of the way when he has to. He’s on the backfoot, because Dooku has lost his finesse, but he makes up for it in sheer power. The darkside is consuming. Even as it burns through Dooku, it searches for its next target. Shadows lick at Obi-Wan, looking for a foothold. Obi-Wan twists away from a downward swing. He brings his sabers up to block the follow-through.

Dooku grabs his wrist and flings him through the air. Obi-Wan has to drop one of his sabers so he can use his hand to brace himself at he hits the ground and then rolls to his feet. Dooku flicks his wrist and sends Obi-Wan’s second saber skittering out of the room. Obi-Wan shifts into a two-handed stance, but it’s quickly obvious that he isn’t a match for Dooku.

Obi-Wan is skilled in lightsaber combat, but Dooku had been a duelist while he was still in the Order, and he’s only continued to develop his skills since he left. Obi-Wan defends as best he can, but he is a master of Soresu, of defense, and he cannot hold out forever. His confrontation with Sidious has left him tired, and it takes everything he has to block Doou’s attacks, while Dooku only grows stronger.

He isn’t surprised when Dooku rips Obi-Wan’s saber out of his hands and tosses it aside. Obi-Wan calls on the Force, but his body has already channeled so much, and the light burns through his body and makes him gasp.

Dooku’s blade hovers next to Obi-Wan’s neck. That burns as well, the singe of flesh that is far too close to a plasma blade. Will he behead Obi-Wan the same way he beheaded Palpatine? Obi-Wan meets Dooku’s gaze and sees the hesitation there.

And, Obi-Wan has one final weapon left to use. “Qui-Gon would never forgive you,” Obi-Wan says softly, hating himself for the words, even though they’re true.

Something like recognition flashes in his grandmaster’s eyes. Dooku jerks back, a moment of hesitation, and it’s the only opening Alpha-17 needs. A blasterbolt to the head is enough to kill even a Sith. Dooku’s blade powers down as his body falls to the floor. Obi-Wan touches his neck and winces at the sting of his tender flesh.

Alpha-17 slaps his hand away, and Obi-Wan would call is a cruel motion, but Dooku is dead at Obi-Wan’s feet, and Obi-Wan knows what cruelty is. Alpha-17’s touch is gentle in comparison. Obi-Wan drags his gaze away from Dooku’s body to see Ventress’s body on the other side of the room. Fox and his squad surround it, blasters out as if they expect her to rise from the dead.

“They’re dead,” Obi-Wan says. Bodies scattered across the floor, a Sith master, his apprentice, and three acolytes.

“I’ve submitted the footage to the GAR,” Fox reports. “They’ll determine how and when to distribute it to the Senate and the Jedi Council.”

“The Council knows,” Obi-Wan says. He can feel the concern radiating from the temple. He senses the presence of two powerful Jedi, already on their way. He looks down at Dooku. He seems older in his death. Frail. Fragile. He looks at Alpha-17. “What was Order 66? You weren’t surprised about it.”

“Later,” Alpha-17 promises.

Obi-Wan leans against Alpha-17’s side, exhausted after a metaphysical and then physical battle. He looks at the bodies on the floor and tries to summon up some kind of positive feeling, because the Sith are dead. That should mean an end to the war and then the slow work of restoring peace and balance to the galaxy. But Obi-Wan looks at the dead and he doesn’t see Sith. He sees two brothers, hurting and searching for any kind of outlet, any person who would show them a scrap of affection. He sees a sister, bitter and full of rage, and the need to prove herself, who didn’t realize the greed and demand of the darkside, that she would never be enough. He sees a Fallen Jedi, a man who could have been his grandmaster and instead was his adversary. Broken, all of them, and they tried to fix themselves by breaking themselves further.

Obi-Wan isn’t sure who he was expecting, but the two Jedi who enter the room are certainly not it. Madame Nu, her hair pulled into a tight bun to highlight a severe face, entering the room with a lightbow raised, a bolt nocked and ready to be fired. And then, behind her, Healer Che.

Madame Nu takes in the state of the room, and her expression falters at Dooku’s body, dead at Obi-Wan’s feet. They had been friends, Obi-Wan recalls. Master Jinn complained about it and avoided Madame Nu whenever he went to the Archives, because she would pester him about reconnecting with his master.

They will never have that chance now.

Healer Che is at Obi-Wan’s side in an instant. She leans him against Alpha-17, as if she knows he can’t stand on his own.

“I need to make a report,” Obi-Wan says.

“You need to rest,” Healer Che tells him.

“I have footage of the fight,” Fox says, approaching them. “That can serve in lieu of a report as Kenobi recovers.”

“Are there no councilors on Coruscant?” Obi-Wan asks. Have they truly broken up their entire High Council and scattered them across the warfront? No wonder it was so easy for Sidious to manipulate them. The divided themselves, weakened themselves and—

“You’re on Coruscant,” Madame Nu points out. “I am on Coruscant.”

Right, Madame Nu. Obi-Wan summons his remaining energy. “The Sith threat has been uncovered and dealt with. Supreme Chancellor Sheev Palpatine was the Sith master. He worked with his apprentice, Count Yan Dooku, to orchestrate the entire war for the purpose of weakening the galaxy and preparing it for Sith rule. Through our contact with Jango Fett, we learned Dooku was a Sith. When Dooku was captured by the pirate Hondo Ohnaka, Alpha-17 and I were sent to gain his trust and convince him to give us the name of his master and assistance in the fight again him. Dooku had three acolytes.” Obi-Wan’s strength is fading quickly, but he has enough for one last statement. “Asajj Ventress, Savage, and Feral. They do not deserve to be forgotten.”

Healer Che’s expression is soft, sympathy and pity in equal measures. “Rest, Obi-Wan.”

A healer’s orders are a powerful thing, but Obi-Wan fights against her suggestion. There is an itch under his skin, a sense that things aren’t finished, aren’t safe. Alpha-17 turns Obi-Wan, not so that Obi-Wan is tucked against Alpha-17’s armor but so that they can look at each other.

“I have this watch,” Alpha-17 tells him. “Do as the medic says.”

Obi-Wan nods slowly, his head heavy and fuzzy after the fight. He leans more against Alpha-17 and allows him to half-carry Obi-Wan back to the temple.

Chapter 16

Chapter Text

Obi-Wan doesn’t leave Coruscant as the war wraps up. He spends most of his time in the Halls of Healing, recovering from battling the Sith. When he isn’t being tutted over by the healers, he’s in the Council Chambers, coordinating the Jedi response to everything that has happened.

The Jedi are shocked at how close they all came to falling into the Sith trap. They band together more than they have in centuries, searching for connection, and pair bonds snap into place at an unprecedented rate. It is each other they draw their strength from, and Obi-Wan suspects that when the relief teams are sent out to help in the aftermath of the war, Jedi will travel in groups of two or three or four.

Obi-Wan’s one of the few Jedi who shrinks from his bonds. There is still a faint connection between him and Qui-Gon, as there is between all master-padawan pairs. But Obi-Wan doesn’t feed it, doesn’t strengthen it. He can’t even look at Qui-Gon when the man returns from Mandalore with Anakin in tow. He killed Qui-Gon’s master. It was Alpha-17 who pulled the trigger, but it was Obi-Wan who gave him the opportunity. And he used Dooku’s memory of Qui-Gon to do it.

Mace returns to the temple to usher the Order into a new era. As Head of the Order, his schedule is full, but he finds the time to drag Obi-Wan to his quarters for tea.

“Healer Che says you’ve recovered well,” Mace says.

“I channeled the Force through my body,” Obi-Wan says. “Given that it should have killed me, the fact that I’m here at all means I’m doing well.”

Mace gives him a sharp look over his teacup. “Healer Peg’ae has concerns.”

“He should have killed me,” Obi-Wan says. Dooku had been decisive with Sidious. If he had struck Obi-Wan with that same conviction, Obi-Wan would not be here. He would be dead. “He hesitated, and I used that hesitation against him.”

“You lived,” Mace says, absolution in his words and the hand he rests on Obi-Wan’s knee. “And so, you live.”

“How?” Obi-Wan asks.

“One day at a time,” Mace answers. His tone is heavy, and his shoulders are slumped, as if he feels the same crushing weight that Obi-Wan does.

With the war wrapping up, the Council spends more time in meetings, trying to figure out how to recover from the war rather than fighting in it. It was to the Council that Alpha-17 explained what Order 66 was and why Dooku tried to trigger it. He explained the whole list of orders, a failsafe created by the Sith but unknown to Jango Fett.

The Alpha class didn’t have chips. It’s what prompted Alpha-17 to look into them, because the Kaminoans were not in favor of deviations from the norm, and there was something distinctly different about the Alpha class. Coupled with the way the Alphas suffered accidents or difficult assignments, until only a few of them remained, Alpha-17 had questions. And he found his answers. After the Alpha class, every trooper was chipped in order to ensure obedience.

By the time they were deployed, not a single trooper still had their chip. The vode take care of their own.

Once Alpha-17 makes his report, Obi-Wan has nightmares. Rex and the Winged Company shooting him out of the sky, Alpha-17 shooting Obi-Wan instead of Dooku, Cody with grim determination on his face as he meets Obi-Wan’s gaze and pulls the trigger.

Obi-Wan makes appointments with Healer Peg’ae, and he eats at least one meal with Alpha-17 each day and holocalls Cody to share another and remind himself that the real Alpha-17 and Cody are not the ones of his dreams. Alpha-17 fought the Sith with him and Cody is his riduur. Maybe, there is a universe where the chips weren’t discovered and Obi-Wan was killed by those he trusted. Maybe, there is a universe where Obi-Wan didn’t speak up and the Jedi were generals instead of contractors, and they lost their souls long before they lost their lives.

But that is not this universe.

In this universe, Obi-Wan attends Council meetings in order to piece the Order back together after a war and an even longer Sith campaign tried to shatter it. In this universe, Obi-Wan spends hours each day on holocalls to Mandalore so that he can train Ahsoka, even with the distance between them. In this universe, Jango Fett is the Mand’alor, and as soon as they can, the GAR troops pull out of the Mandalore system and Obi-Wan is reunited with his riduur and his padawan.

In this universe, Mace Windu, as Head of the Jedi Order, says it’s time they stop allowing the Ruusan Reformation to dictate their path. It was meant to drain the fear of Jedi from the galaxy, and none of them want to return to a time when Jedi are feared, but there are consequences for an Order so subsumed by the Republic, or any political body.

It gives Obi-Wan a reason, a purpose, to leave, instead of an excuse. He can’t just go, not when his life and his decisions aren’t wholly his own anymore. He sits down with Ahsoka first. She is only a child, even if growing up in wartime has aged her. Obi-Wan won’t take her from her home if she has any objections. But after a childhood cooped up in the temple, restlessness growing as her peers were sent to battlefields, she doesn’t want a typical padawanship. She is eager to travel, eager for adventure, and so, with her permission, Obi-Wan talks to Cody next.

The vows between them, one when together, one when apart, mean Obi-Wan could make this journey without Cody.

He doesn’t want to.

“We’ll go with you,” Cody says, after Obi-Wan’s stumbling explanation of duty and purpose and the will of the Force.

“We?” Obi-Wan asks.

“The war is over,” Cody answers. “The Republic doesn’t need a standing army, and we were promised backpay and citizenship. If you are leaving the Core, those who have come to care for you will follow. It isn’t just me.”

Obi-Wan doesn’t realize that Cody means nearly the entire crew and stationed battalions of The Resolute. It isn’t quite ten-thousand strong, but it’s nearly that number. When he tells Mace, Mace just smiles and says perhaps instead of Jedha, there is a better destination for Obi-Wan and his team.

His team, as if it isn’t going to take an entire star destroyer to transport them.

Cody and Alpha-17 join Obi-Wan, Mace, and Jocasta Nu in the Archives as they determine where The Resolute will make its new home. Madame Nu pours over maps which hint at locations of ancient Jedi temples. Mace looks toward more modern locations. Alpha-17 and Cody both look at star charts with memories of war guiding their choices.

“What about this?” Obi-Wan asks. He follows his feeling until he finds a report of Republic relief requests. The Republic has been focused on the war these past few years, unable to give help to those who need it. There are dozens of requests here, some more desperate than others.

And then there’s Lothal.

Every month for the past two years, a request for Republic aid. Far from any prominent hyperlane, Lothal isn’t a planet that is easily reached or has many visitors. The war didn’t touch the planet, but drought did. And as water became scarce, drying up plants and farmland, a plague hit that destroyed herds of livestock. What little exports Lothal had, vanished. And with no money to afford imports, the planet was forced to rely on itself.

“Lothal?” Mace looks over the most recent request. “The Force works in mysterious ways, does it not?”

Madame Nu looks at Obi-Wan and then smiles. “It does.”

#

The Resolute, packed with vode and relief supplies, departs for Lothal and a long-term mission. There is an ancient temple there, and Obi-Wan has been tasked with making it an active temple again. The Jedi Order will spread itself across the galaxy as it once had. Obi-Wan is not the only councilor to be tasked with reviving a temple in the outer reaches of space. Nor is he the only one to travel with vode.

The Resolute and her crew are greeted with a mix of desperation and resentment. But, this far out, the war didn’t touch Lothal. There are no questions about the GAR or the Separatists. The citizens of Lothal are less interested in how the vode handle a blaster and more in if they know what to do with a hoe and a rake.

As the vode settle and distribute their aid, Obi-Wan brings Ahsoka to the last known location of the Lothal temple. Even if he didn’t have Madame Nu’s research, he would know where to find the temple. It calls to him, loudly and clearly.

“There’s no door,” Ahsoka says. She frowns as she looks at the rock spires dotting the surface of the planet. “Is it underground?” She steps gingerly, as if she’s afraid a step in the wrong place and her foot will go through the ground.

Obi-Wan guides Ahsoka to the most prominent of the spires. There is ancient writing carved into the stone. Obi-Wan runs his fingers over the etchings and looks over at his padawan. “Do you know this language?” Obi-Wan asks.

Ahsoka shakes her head. A tinge of shame colors her cheeks.

“It is quite old,” Obi-Wan tells her. “I only know it because a Jedi I cared deeply for was an archeologist. She studied ancient cultures and ancient ruins, and she would teach me what she knew.” Obi-Wan’s chest aches the way it always does when he thinks about Master Tahl.

“Will you teach me?” Ahsoka asks.

“I will. I will teach you to read this language, and I will tell you about Master Tahl. She was a dear friend of Master Jinn. Here, on this stone, are instructions for how to enter the temple.”

There is a small party of vode with them, because Cody insists on everyone traveling with protection. Cody and his squad stay a respectful distance back, and Obi-Wan can feel the hum of curiosity as they too wonder how they’ll gain entrance to this temple.

Obi-Wan’s mastery of the language is not quite mastery and more like passing familiarity. It takes him some time to work out what they’re supposed to do and when he does, he can’t help but laugh. Mysterious ways, indeed.

“What is it?” Ahsoka peers at the stone as if she’ll suddenly understand.

“This temple cannot be accessed by a single Jedi,” Obi-Wan answers. “It requires at least two, working in harmony, in order to reveal the door.” This temple is a reminder that Obi-Wan should not be alone. He should not isolate himself.

Still laughing softly to himself, he guides Ahsoka into a shared meditation and together, they raise the spire until the entrance to the temple is revealed.

“Force sh*t,” Wooley mutters.

Obi-Wan laughs, even lighter and louder than he had before. “Wooley, we’re here to settle and populate a Jedi temple. There will be a lot of Force sh*t, I’m afraid.”

Ahsoka peers into the darkness of the entryway. Obi-Wan can sense the moment her eyes adjust, because her body coils, prepared to bound into the abandoned temple without care or caution. He hooks two fingers in the back of her tunics, and she pauses and looks at him over her shoulder.

“Together,” Obi-Wan tells her. He looks at Cody and his squad. “Would you prefer to say above ground?”

“We’re not afraid of anything,” Waxer says.

“Speak for yourself,” Boil mutters, but they produce flashlights and together, the group of them descend into the Lothal temple.

#

Obi-Wan thinks it odd, perhaps amusing, that the winged Jedi had made his home in an underground temple. But it isn’t as if he spends his entire days in Lothal’s caves and caverns. He spends as much time out of the temple as he does in it. There are livestock to heal and crops to plant, and the people of Lothal, who had been unsure of what to make of the vode, now welcome them wholeheartedly.

It has been slow work, reviving Lothal after drought and plague ravaged their livelihoods. There is still a need for relief and aid, but Obi-Wan believes within the next year, Lothal will be self-sufficient again. And then, another year or two and they will begin to export goods as they once did.

First meal, Obi-Wan takes with Cody and Ahsoka in deference to their small family, but last meal is always a raucous affair in one of the mess halls, where they are surrounded by the rest of their family. And mid meal is often taken in one of the government buildings or wandering the market and sampling from food stalls, because it’s important to be part of the community.

Today, Cody introduces Obi-Wan to a young couple who have been integral in distributing Lothal’s aid. They are interested in broadcasting and have a command of the airwaves. They coordinate the relief days and make sure each family who needs help receives it.

“Ephraim Bridger,” the husband says. He gives Obi-Wan’s hand a firm shake. They’re at the Bridgers’ home and their pet Loth cat winds its way around Obi-Wan’s ankles and purrs.

A woman laughs and tsks gently at the cat, who, of course, ignores the scolding entirely. “Mira Bridger. And that is Lady. She thinks she runs the household.”

Ahsoka, who enjoys chasing the wild Loth cats in the fields surrounding the temple, crouches down and holds her hand out to the domesticated cat. Lady, however, recognizes a predator when she sees one. She tucks herself against Obi-Wan’s legs and hisses.

“Oh.” Ahsoka, and her lekku, seem to droop.

“Patience, young padawan,” Obi-Wan says. “Lady’s instincts tell her to be afraid. Show her she has no need.” Obi-Wan steps carefully away from Lady and leaves Ahsoka to try and coax the cat closer.

“She won’t be in charge soon,” Mira says. She rubs her stomach, modestly rounded.

“Oh?” Obi-Wan asks, politely interested. Next to him, Cody lights up in a smile. In general, the vode are excited about children. Obi-Wan had thought it was curiosity at first, after being decanted, there was something new and interesting about natural birth. But no, it’s any child. Jesse once told Obi-Wan that it was a reminder of what they fought for. They didn’t fight for scheming politicians or greedy trade unions. The GAR fought for the ones caught up in a war they had no say in.

“Our little Ezra,” Mira Bridger says. She smiles at her husband, who shifts closer to her so he can rest a hand on her stomach as well. “He’s going to grow up in a safe galaxy.”

“We’re all going to help keep it safe,” Cody promises.

It’s Obi-Wan’s turn to smile, and he links his pinky finger with Cody’s. Around them, the Force hums, content. Lothal won’t be a temporary assignment. They won’t set up a base or a garrison and then leave it to another battalion. Lothal will be home.

On the floor, Ahsoka finally coaxes Lady into being petted. A few scritches behind the ears and Lady makes herself comfortable on Ahsoka’s lap, demanding more attention. Yes, Lothal will be home, and he and Cody will raise their family here.