Chapter Text
There is only ever one story.
The Force is all things.
It is life. It is death. Between you, me, the tree, the rock. Between us and the stars. Everywhere. Luminous. When we die, we don't disappear. We become one with the Force.
The Ka'ra is the stars.
Eternal and undying, the spirits of the fallen. They live still, and forever, in the stars, a guiding council for the living to look up to. They march ahead, far away, but never so far that we can't find them.
There is only one story, and it is this...
One soul finds another. A hand reaches out. Eyes meet, and they say without words - there you are. I knew you were out there, somewhere. I knew I wasn't alone. No matter what happens, I will never be alone again. Let me stay with you now, and always. Even when you go from me, let me stay with you.
There is only ever one story.
There is only ever one argument. It is the same argument they have always had and will always have.
It is a war. It is an enemy fortress.
The fortress needs to be captured.
And Obi-Wan Kenobi is going to do it.
"I understand that you disagree with this strategy," Obi-Wan says in that now familiar, deliberately calm and polite tone. It is the one he uses when he is hiding his true thoughts, when he is making the conscious choice to stay patient during a negotiation. It makes him sound like a politician. Jango loathes it, particularly when it is directed at him.
Also, to say Jango disagrees is a pointed understatement. The strategy is stupid. It isn't even strategy - it's suicide. It is Obi-Wan walking into danger alone, unprotected by his men, the army, his friends.
It is Obi-Wan saying that he will go alone, that he will be taking an enemy base alone. A solitary jedi against who knows how many in the fortress.
And maybe Obi-Wan could do it. Probably he could do it easily, come out without even a scratch. That isn't ego talking, not really... Obi-Wan could. Jango has seen it happen.
They've all seen it. Cody told him in hushed, awed tones of the miracles, the things he has seen the jedi do. And Obi-Wan is willing, very willing to put himself in front of his men, to risk everything to protect them.
Too willing.
"Would..." Obi-Wan stops, sighs quietly, and tries again. "Would you explain it to me? Would you explain what is wrong with this plan?"
Explain. How could Jango explain?
Explain that Obi-Wan is reckless, but only ever with his own life? Explain that it is clear that Obi-Wan would die for his men, but that he doesn't need to? Explain that he is more than the sum of his sacrifices, that he is more precious alive than dead?
Explain that Jango wants nothing more than to give him a throne, a kingdom, a people, and himself? Explain that Jango would take him away from all of this right this very minute, if only he could be sure that Obi-Wan would understand and want him back?
Explain that Jango is in love with him, and that the fear of losing him is eating him alive?
"You are a general," Jango answers curtly, attempting to distill his objection into a something Obi-Wan might accept. "It is unnecessary for you to risk yourself in this way. You have responsibilities. You aren't a lone jedi anymore with no one to watch your back."
"I am," Obi-Wan agrees readily. "And as a general I have a responsibility to protect as many as I can. If I can accomplish a task myself, then there is no call to risk others needlessly."
"Is it ego, jedi?" Jango tries. "Are you so arrogant to think you can win this whole war on your own?"
"Do you really think I am incapable of doing what I am proposing?"
No, and Jango cannot lie and say otherwise.
"That is not the point. The point is you don't have to rely only on yourself, or put yourself in unnecessary danger. You have men, resources, and you are not alone in this battle. This is not Naboo, and it is not Melida/Daan."
The temperature in the room drops several degrees. Anger and frustration very swiftly morph into regret.
Obi-Wan does not give himself or Jango the grace of pretending he didn't hear or understand, or of asking Jango to repeat himself. They both heard that. They both know.
"If you think me so incompetent that I can't distinguish one conflict from another," Obi-Wan clips out deliberately, voice cold, "then you are free to submit a formal complaint to the Council. I am sure they would love nothing more than to hear your opinion on the subject."
The title 'Jedi Killer' isn't said, but Jango can hear it silently tacked on to the end of that sentence.
"Don't," he growls back, angry at Obi-Wan but mostly at himself. "Don't do that. I didn't..."
"I'm not sure who you have been speaking to, but they had no right..."
"I didn't say that to hurt you," Fett interrupts. "I wouldn't do that."
It's not an apology, of course, but it is still too much, too honest. It hints at something Jango increasingly suspects they both know and won't say.
Jango can see Obi-Wan's anger, and then confusion, and then he can see the walls going up around him as the jedi pulls his mental and emotional shields back into place. They are walls that Jango knows now he could never climb on his own, not in a hundred lifetimes.
The only way past those walls is if Obi-Wan allows him in.
And that, too, has nothing to do with ego, though perhaps it pains Jango on some level to accept the limits of his own capacity for coercion. No, Jango is simply pragmatic. His dral'runi is strong, and unless he shatters the man to pieces there will be no making him into anything else.
Jango doesn't want to do that, doesn't want him broken. If he did that, then all the things that make Obi-Wan himself would be gone.
So, he throws out a reference to Obi-Wan's past, instead... brings up the worst moments of his life when he was forced to do battle - and fail - alone.
Jango inwardly curses, among other things, his apparent lack of finesse.
"Bold of you to assume that references to my past can hurt my feelings, Fett," Obi-Wan replies wearily. His voice is deliberately drained of inflection. "And I would hope that you have a better reason for objecting to my plan than a catalogue of my past failures. Especially since those are apparently common knowledge."
"No one betrayed your confidence, Kenobi," Jango tries. "I did my own research, put things together on my own."
This is only partly true, but Jango is content in his mind that any information shared about Obi-Wan is for the man's benefit, and that he would never weaponize it against his Be'alor.
At least, any more than he just did.
From the look on Obi-Wan's face, Jango can tell he doesn't quite believe him, and the wry grin the jedi gives him is completely devoid of mirth.
"I suppose it is best everyone knows the worst," Obi-Wan says. It makes Jango's heart ache to hear him. "I am not, I hope, so egotistical that I think I can change the past. But if you wish to throw my previous experiences at me, be aware, Fett, that you are hardly in a position to do so. You are not an official member of the army, and you do not have the high ground here... moral or otherwise."
That is fair. Brutal, but fair.
In that moment, Jango understands that this will always be the fight.
He and Obi-Wan have hearts made for war, not peace. They might be defined forever by this push and pull, this tearing conflict. They may be forever unable to find common ground at the most crucial point of the argument.
But if we were different people, Jango thinks, we wouldn't be dral'runi.
It is a contradiction, it is true. Obi-Wan is a warrior, and that is part of why Jango loves him, but he also needs him to be safe. So... what to do?
"It's a little bit ego," Jango says finally, and he allows a sly smirk to play across his face. He plays to his strengths - he plays the villain, the foil, the darker counterpoint, the combatant.
He takes the privilege afforded to a dral'runi, a riduur, and the Mand'alor - he tells Obi-Wan the truth Obi-Wan does not want to hear or accept.
"This is not a bad thing, Kenobi," he says. "I have read your files, it's true. I know what happened on Naboo, and I can speculate about Melida/Daan. You hate the name 'Sith Killer', and you never talk about being a child-soldier, about what you've seen. You see these times in your life as failures because they did not end the way you wanted them to. But, by my math, you won. You survived. Your experiences only show me that you are strong. At your most desperate hour, at the moment of greatest despair and loss, you survived, and triumphed."
"And others, for whom I was responsible, did not survive," Obi-Wan replies quietly. "I will not make the same mistakes again."
And the thing is, Jango Fett, of all the people in the galaxy, understands this.
His past is a darker, skewed mirror image of Obi-Wan Kenobi's - loss, enslavement, betrayal. Great sorrow, impossible choices. The crushing inability to protect the ones they love. The haunting moments when they were too slow, too weak, too powerless. The secret prayer that next time they might be able to save others, and themselves.
Infinite sadness.
But where rage and hate twisted Jango, alienating him from himself and driving him to the terrible sin, suffering only made Obi-Wan more compassionate. More willing to sacrifice. More loving of the universe and all its flaws.
And Obi-Wan, unknowingly, dragged Jango back to himself, showed him a future of infinite potential.
Jango sees and knows and understands the desperation, that key motivator that drives Obi-Wan, that is pushing him forward in this moment. It is, after all, the same motive that is also driving Jango.
It is the singular need to save someone, even at the risk of your own life.
There is only ever one story.
"I will go with you," Jango says, finally. "If you're going to be a di'kut about this and not take a squad in support, then I will go with you and watch your back. We'll take the fortress together."
Obi-Wan's chuckle is tired, and a little uncertain. Jango flatters himself that there is an undercurrent of relief there as well, and that maybe, someday, Obi-Wan will accept that Jango watching his back is a good thing.
"Why do you care, Fett?" Obi-Wan sighs. "You aren't part of this conflict. If I fail, it's just one less jedi in the galaxy for you to worry about."
You know why, Fett thinks.
I know you know why.
"That's my business," is all he says in return.
This is, Obi-Wan thinks, typical. Expected. He shouldn’t be hurt by it.
Fett probably doesn’t even care what happens to you now. You’re clearly an afterthought, a nice bonus after he got what he really wanted. He probably never cared for you really. You were a distraction that didn’t even happen.
He tries to put his hurt aside for now, however, because there is another, more pressing issue.
He has a headache.
Well... no. Not... not a headache. Something else, equally concerning.
He thinks it might have started the first day back on The Negotiator.
He knows he felt it. At first he thought it was just relief from being back with his men again, overwhelmed with seeing all of them at once after being separated.
And, well, he had always had bonds with the Vode, small threads of light similar yet distinct from the training bonds he established with Qui-Gon and Anakin. It wasn't the strangest thing for him to feel that low-level hum in the back of his head (or his heart), almost like a conversation happening in the distant background, that told him that his men were there.
If other Jedi generals had never mentioned feeling something similar, that just meant it wasn't anything to dwell on overmuch. And if it is stronger now, more present, that's just the result of his head injury. He is more sensitive to such things now, perhaps. It's no cause for alarm, and certainly nothing to tell Coarse about... ever.
It's when he senses Mij Gilmar's presence in that same humming band of light that he starts to worry.
Obi-Wan tries his best to brush it off - Force knows he's got other things to think about - but when they finally land on Mandalore he can't anymore.
The hum gets louder the moment they touch down on the landing platform, and in addition to the strange sensation setting off his injury and giving him a headache, he is also troubled by a clenching anxiety in his gut, an almost nausea. It is a mix of fear, excitement, hope, impatience, and concern that churns unpleasantly, and the worst of it is that Obi-Wan very nearly thinks that it is not even his own emotions he is feeling. It feels like too much, and also separate from him, and there are undertones of smug joy completely out of keeping with his current predicament.
But all this is beside the point right now, because a much more trivial yet immediate problem has arisen that requires all the jedi's resources.
Obi-Wan has to walk.
They land on Mandalore and are greeted by a contingent of helmeted Mandalorians who radiate excitement to an overwhelming degree, even through Force-muffling beskar armor. This does nothing to help the hum and Obi-Wan's headache, and he has a sneaking suspicion that the feeling in his gut is related to the extreme eagerness pouring off the Mandalroians in front of him and the 212th trailing behind him as he disembarks.
The journey from the landing pad to the ground transport and from the transport into the palace is long, much longer than Obi-Wan is used to walking since the attack. A few months ago he could have completed the journey without issue, but now even this effort is enough to send pain shooting through his damaged leg. Of course, he has also forgone the cane again out of stupid pride, and he is paying for it now, at the critical point.
But even that might have been alright, except...
They finally reach the Keldabe palace, which seems to be very nearly completely rebuilt from the last time Obi-Wan saw it. He would spare a thought for the architecture if he had the energy to do so, but too soon they are leading him inside the keep, and then silently yet eagerly to a pair of large doors, which swing open.
Oh dear.
Obi-Wan finds himself standing at one end of an ornate throne room. Jango Fett sits in state at the other end, reclining on a throne.
The jedi’s leg feels like the flesh is peeling away from the bone, and his head is pounding. He can barely see through the pain and dark shadows at the edges of his vision, and he can barely hear over the hum in the back if his head, which seems to be growing louder and more confused all the time.
And it is such a terribly long way between the throne room entrance and the actual throne.
He must walk that great distance. He must walk it and not fall.
Not fall, and not break down weeping, and not close his eyes and go to sleep right there on the floor. It’s not even about pride anymore... pride is far beyond him now. This is about something more fundamental even than pride, that last bastion of selfhood that remains even when pride is gone.
Typical, Obi-Wan thinks. And also: I can't go to pieces right now. I simply cannot. So I won't.
He can't allow himself to fall apart in these final moments, perhaps the last of his life, in front of these people for whom he cared so much and who knew and cared for him back when he was still whole.
He sucks in a breath and steps away from where Cody and Mij are hovering awkwardly, away from the strange Mandalorians and from the members of the 212th filing in behind him. He is vaguely aware that Cody is trying to speak to him, but he can hear nothing over the buzz in his head. He simply nods vaguely...
And walks.
He walks, and every step costs him. He reaches out through the pain to the Force, and the fact that it is still there, even the parts tangled and confused and shouting something he can't quite understand, is all that can bolster him as he goes.
Jango has made a mistake.
The throne was a mistake. The whole palatial throne room was a mistake.
Letting Cody and Mij pick up Obi-Wan instead of going to get the man himself, and possibly using the Star Destroyer to blow a hole through the Republic Senate and Jetiise Temple while he was at it… a mistake.
What was he thinking? He doesn't even use the throne room, never did before today. Only now, in this moment, is he aware that the optics of all this are the opposite of what he wanted. Only now does he realize what Obi-Wan must be thinking.
A mistake. This is all wrong.
And yet...
And yet, this isn’t even about the manner of Obi-Wan’s arrival on Mandalore, or his formal reception by the current Mand'alor.
The real mistake was ever letting Obi-Wan step away from him. That night they kissed and all the other nights, he should have stopped the jedi from stepping away, from walking away, from leaving him. He never should have let the man out of his sight.
The massive doors to the throne room open and just like that Obi-Wan is there, flanked by Cody, Mij, and various members of the 212th and Jango's Haat'ade. They should be an honor guard, but perhaps they seem more like captors to the lone jedi, who holds himself carefully and with a shadow of uncharacteristic uncertainty.
There is a pause, and then the jedi steps forward and begins the long walk towards the throne, the others following behind.
"Mij," Jango hisses through the internal comms as he watches this all unfold. "Why the druk didn't you comm ahead and tell me?"
"Well, if I had known you were going to pull whatever this power play osik is you're doing, I would have!" Mij growls back, also through the internal channel. "When did we even reopen the throne room? Jango... what are you doing?"
What is Jango doing? For the life of him, he doesn't know. Is he showing off? Punishing Obi-Wan for a past rejection? Proving himself worthy of the role he has now taken out of necessity? Making some sort of political demonstration? Making Obi-Wan feel that he made a mistake not coming to Jango sooner?
If he was trying to prove himself worthy, he is pretty sure he failed. He'd expected this to be triumphant, to set a positive tone where he and his Be'alor could ascend the throne together and he could establish Obi-Wan as a political leader as well as his dral'runi, in defiance of the naysayers who didn't want him or an ex-Jedi to rule.
And if any small part of him had secretly wanted to put the usually self-possessed Obi-Wan on the back foot, to stun him into fast acquiescence to Jango's masterplan, or to punish him a little for managing to evade his destiny for so long...
Well, it is clear that something much worse than Jango hurt the jedi first.
Wrong. Wrong.
The limp is obvious, however much Obi-Wan tries to hide it, and it grows steadily worse as he walks. There is a tension in his shoulders that speaks to barely contained pain. As he draws close, Jango can see that Obi-Wan’s eyes are struggling to focus, that there is scarring at the temples suggesting further damage. He very nearly weaves as he walks, like he is being battered by invisible waves on all sides.
The lines on the man’s face have deepened, sharpened with extended agony. There is more gray in his hair and beard than before.
He is so painfully thin.
His expression... when he looks up, he is looking at Jango with a flat, shielded expression, like he doesn’t know who the man in front of him is or what he will do. It is not fear in the jedi's face - there is too much weary resignation for that. More like he is wary, like he is staring at a wild beast, an evil tyrant who might lash out at any moment and take Obi-Wan's life.
And he is beautiful, Jango thinks. He is as beautiful as he was the day I lost him.
I didn’t lose him. Another internal voice rejects this possibility. He’s right here. I have him, he’s right here.
Then why is he looking at you like you’re a stranger?
Why does he seem further away than ever?
“Mand’alor Fett,” Obi-Wan says when he finally, laboriously reaches the steps leading up to the throne. His voice betrays none of the pain he is clearly feeling; it is carefully modulated and pitched accordingly to meet the formal occasion.
In a move that is very carefully coordinated so he can manage it without falling over, Obi-Wan sweeps himself into a deep bow. Mandalorians typically don’t like bowing and Obi-Wan knows this, so that is a calculated choice as well.
“Greetings.”
The jedi turns slightly to Cody, who is standing at his right elbow, and raises his eyebrow expectantly. Cody blinks back, slow realization spreading across his face, and the men of the 212th stiffen as the feared Negotiator takes the place of their beloved Obi-Wan.
Jango’s heart sinks. This is his doing, he knows. This ridiculous kriffing throne.
“Mand’alor,” Cody says, finally, falling back on the limited diplomatic training he learned from his jedi friend. “May I present Jedi Master and General Obi-Wan Kenobi.”
“Former general,” Obi-Wan corrects mildly. “I was relieved of my command over a month ago.”
The atmosphere is so tense and quiet that Obi-Wan can hear the leather of Cody’s gloves creak as he clenches his fist.
There is a pause, a breath, and then a crack in the ice, the final shattering moment.
“You will always be our general,” Cody chokes out, upset, disregarding protocol completely. He turns and faces Obi-Wan head-on, rips off his helmet, panting and overcome. “You will always be our general. Always.”
“Commander…” Obi-Wan's brow furrows.
“Stop,” Cody snaps, voice breaking. “Stop...Obi-Wan, I can't do this... it’s all my fault...”
“Cody,” Obi-Wan interrupts, distress clearly building. It is no surprise to Jango or anyone else that Obi-Wan ignores the Mand'alor, ignores everyone around him, and focuses instead on soothing his friend's upset. “My dear… please, it wasn’t…”
“Stop it!” Cody yells, and the entire room falls silent in shock. The clone commander turns to Jango, half-frantic, eyes strangely wet. “Mand’alor, tell him! ‘Alor, General, I take full responsibility... I shouldn't have left... it's all my fault...!"
“Cody, you are not responsible for what happened in Rapi Square,” Obi-Wan says firmly, almost severely, although his stance wobbles a bit with the effort of staying upright, and his hand starts to shake.
Mij and Coarse both twitch slightly and Boil, standing off to the side with Waxer and the other 212th Vode, looks a bit like he wants to cry.
Jango feels strangely frozen, no longer in control of his limbs. He also feels drawn towards Obi-Wan, like he is caught in a tractor-beam, and he jerks in his seat, on that stupid throne. Obi-Wan’s gaze flicks towards him, catching his slight movement, before returning to Cody.
“It was an unfortunate accident. I do not blame you for any of it. No one should.” Here Obi-Wan shoots another sharp look at Jango, and Jango honestly can’t say if it is deserved or not. “It was my choice. It has always been my choice to serve.”
Obi-Wan takes a deep breath and Jango can hear the strange rasp in it, like it’s a struggle to take air in. He should stop this.
“And I don’t blame you or the 212th for returning to the front in the wake of my injury,” Obi-Wan says, the calmness of his tone not quite hiding a wave of deep emotional pain underneath. “I am so sorry if you or any of the Vode felt any guilt for that - you shouldn't. You did what you needed to do. Nor do I... nor do I blame you for defecting afterwards. It was the right choice, Cody. Protecting the men is always the right choice. You have always put the needs of our men first, even when I... when I... failed... I failed...”
Obi-Wan sways then, unsteady, and his voice cracks -cracks from grief, from the pain in his body, from the confused noise in his aching head.
Something about that atonal note finally makes Jango move, and before he even realizes it he is off of that ridiculous throne, down the steps, and next to Obi-Wan.
“Cyar’ika,” he murmurs, hands hovering around him, a hairsbreadth away from finally claiming what was and will always be his.
“My apologies, Mand’alor,” Obi-Wan says, voice quiet and distant. “I haven’t really been myself of late. It's my head, you see, and... I’m afraid I don’t... don’t know why I’m here?”
They are the last words he manages to get out before he collapses in Jango’s arms.
When Obi-Wan wakes, he is in a different room.
Clearly not a medical wing, thank the Force, but also not any room he is familiar with. Still in the Keldabe palace, most likely. Memory comes back to him and...
Oh. Did he faint?
Rather embarrassing.
He chides himself for pridefulness, and ruefully thinks that at least fainting is one reliable way to escape a tedious political ceremony or social obligation. He should remember it if he ever finds himself at one of those dreadful Senate cocktail parties again.
It takes a moment for him to come back to himself fully, but once he does he starts to evaluate his current state.
The good news is that the uncomfortable feeling in his stomach has settled down and the roaring hum in his ears has died down into something else, something manageable... barely noticeable, in fact. It's... it's still a bond, he thinks, but not a bond like anything he's ever felt before. Like a Force bond, and certainly still linked to the Force, but also different.
More.
He reaches for it in his mind and finds that he can access it easily, without pain. It is not invasive, although perhaps Obi-Wan should feel upset at the presence of some new thing in his head. It is too comforting to him, though, for true anxiety to take hold. Perhaps later, he will worry, but not now. He feels familiar threads, links to people he loves - Cody, the 212th - and also new things. Things to be explored, but later. After he has rested.
His head aches still, but less than it did before, and his eyesight is better than it was. He takes his time, blinks and stretches and talks himself into wakefulness.
It's a bedroom he is in, and he is in a bed. From what he can see the room is bigger than he would have expected to be given as a political hostage - it is certainly no cell - and furnished in a way he would expect of a Mandalorian living space, not sparse but simple, unpretentious. There is a door at one end that presumably leads to the rest of the living area, and a clear screen door that seems to open into a garden on the far side. There are personal touches throughout, suggesting this room belongs to someone specific.
Obi-Wan eyes up a small potted plant on a table that seems out of place compared to the rest of the decor. Rather like him.
After only a brief time laying in bed, adjusting to his surroundings, Obi-Wan can’t stand it anymore.
He is tired and grubby, and his tunic feels sweaty, stale, like the anxiety of the day is embedded in the cloth. If he is not going to be tortured or executed immediately – and that doesn’t seem to be the case – then he wants it off, and he wants to find a fresher where he can get cleaned up.
He pushes himself out of bed, gets himself to his feet, and looks around the room.
Next to the armor stand in the corner - obviously a required piece of furniture in any Mandalorian bedroom - there is a mirror. It is tall and wide, built into the wall, and hard to avoid even for Obi-Wan, who has trained himself to ignore his reflection of late.
After a moment's consideration, he walks over to the mirror, limping only slightly now that his leg has had a chance to rest, and stands before it. After a brief pause, he then tugs off his tunic and undershirt so he can see himself.
The damage is there. The damage is obvious. Not just from Rapi Square - he has been a soldier at war for a long time, and was one well before this current conflict. He has always carried scars. And it is not vanity that makes Obi-Wan study himself now and wonder what happened. There is so much there, a lifetime's worth of stories, and for the first time he looks at himself and is troubled.
He feels disconnected from his body, a sudden dysmorphia, like he is an alien being inhabiting a strange shape.
All the time he was in the Temple, he hadn't felt this, or hadn't allowed himself to feel this. But now, surrounded by his men, close to his former lover... now he feels a keen sense of disconnect.
What must the others think when they see him? How could he possibly find a way back to himself and regain an understanding of who he is?
“You should have had armor,” Jango says. He is standing in the bedroom's doorway, and his voice is rough with a brusqueness that belies an underlying quiver of some strong emotion.
Obi-Wan doesn't turn around to look directly at him, but he glances up to the corner of the mirror and can see Jango standing there. He is not wearing his helmet, but otherwise he still looks every inch the Mand’alor.
If his head didn’t still hurt a bit Obi-Wan would have rolled his eyes in response.
“I had armor,” Obi-Wan replies.
Many kinds, he thinks. The Force, his uniform, his men, himself.
“Not beskar," Jango corrects.
No, not beskar. And not Jango.
“Are you disappointed?” Obi-Wan asks. He looks at himself in the mirror, sees scars, pain, thinness, weariness. While he sees nothing to be ashamed of, he is aware that Jango has brought him here for some purpose, and that feeling of alienation still lingers. He has a role to fulfill here, after all. He can't imagine any romantic partner wanting what he sees in the mirror in front of him.
“I’ve seen you naked before.” Jango smiles slightly, a glint in his eyes. “Mesh’la.”
“Ah, yes,” Obi-Wan smiles, pinking a little in spite of himself. He keeps his focus on the mirror, refuses to turn around. “When was that, again? For all the time we've known each other, we really haven't seen each other naked so often. Let's see...you caught me changing once on Cangar, after Wooley tried to tame that strange slug creature that spat out sludge at anyone who startled it. And then there was that planet… what was it called? We met there after that skirmish near Rishi. It rained the whole time.”
“It doesn’t have a name,” Jango slinks forward, casual, silent like a predator. He crowds around Obi-Wan, behind him, resting his hands on the jedi's hips, and they stare at their reflections in the mirror. “You should have had beskar armor in Rapi Square.”
“It’s the past. To focus on it now is foolish. This is about control,” Obi-Wan replies, a gentle rebuke in his voice. “You should mediate on that, Mand’alor. A good ruler knows when things are beyond his control. Anything else is ego...and you know how dangerous that can be.”
“Is that the Negotiator talking? The great Jedi general who refused to follow his heart?”
“Is that what you believe happened?”
“I am the Mand’alor,” Jango reminds him. “There is nothing beyond my control now."
"Nothing?" Obi-Wan repeats, wryly. "Really."
A twitch at the corner of Jango's mouth, and just like that they are on Kamino again, watching each other, circling each other, seeing something there and wanting to poke and prod it. Laughing, almost, as if sharing a secret joke.
"The Republic army is mine," Jango replies, "and with it the fate of the galaxy. You are here, with me. I control enough."
Obi-Wan hums noncommittally. "Time will tell, I suppose."
Jango's mouth twitches again slightly, turns down. His gaze focuses on Obi-Wan's tired eyes, the last of the fading bruises on the jedi's torso.
"You could have been with me this whole time," he says. "You could have been here. You should have come with me that night when I asked.”
“You didn’t ask,” Obi-Wan retorts. “You never ask.”
“You wanted to come. That night.”
Obi-Wan doesn’t deny this. Can’t deny it.
But it is also only one piece of the much larger truth. And what Jango is doing now is the same thing he accused Obi-Wan of doing all those months ago - he is trying, too late, to save someone who cannot be saved, to stop a tragedy that already happened. They are both the same in this way, at least.
“It would have been a regret,” Obi-Wan says simply. “You say I could have left with you then. You’re wrong.”
“If you’d come with me then you wouldn’t have almost died in a kriffing explosion. In a million different di’kut ways. You would have been away from the war. You would have been safe.”
“I would have been a coward. I would have left behind my family, who I am, and the only thing I have ever wanted to do with my life.”
“To be a Jedi,” Jango huffs dismally.
“To help,” Obi-Wan corrects gently.
It seems like a bad joke, now, of course. Obi-Wan has been a general in two different wars, and can he honestly point to either of them as having achieved some triumphant end?
All the ways he has shaped and shifted the workings of things have been completely by accident. He sees that now.
An accident. Something Cody hasn’t accepted yet. Something no beskar armor can help. Even now, even now, he is a fulcrum, a shatter point… but not the way he thought he would be.
“You regret bringing me here now,” Obi-Wan says softly. “Don’t you?”
Jango doesn’t say anything. He simply runs an ungloved hand up and down Obi-Wan’s bare side, over a starburst-shaped scar, an old one.
Obi-Wan shakes his head.
“I don’t know what your public justification is for bringing me here,” he continues, his calm tone belying a desperate need to understand, to shake Jango into some kind of admission. “They told the Jedi that I am recompense for Galidraan. I do understand your reasons, your feelings here... please don't think that I don't appreciate what this means to you, to your people, to the survivors and the grieving. I will admit that I do not know how this revenge will manifest, if you brought me here to execute me or parade me around as a testament to your superiority, or if you plan to have the relationship with me you feel you were denied. I suppose it hardly matters.”
Obi-Wan finally turns to face Jango instead of the mirror.
“The actual motive is the same, isn’t it?” Obi-Wan asks, eyes narrowed. “But I think you will feel unfulfilled by this final victory. As you can see,” he gestures to himself with his free hand, “I’m no prize. There isn’t much here worth conquering.”
There is a long moment of quiet between them. Obi-Wan watches to see how his words will land, but Jango gives no indication that he even heard. He is studying Obi-Wan too, and for a moment again they are back in that room in Kamino, two opponents sizing each other up.
Jango is the one who pulls away first. He turns and steps over to the armor stand, places his helmet there, and then starts removing the other pieces - vambraces, pauldrons, chest plate.
As he does so, Obi-Wan can see their future. It isn’t a Force vision, but it is clear to him what will happen now.
He no longer thinks that a public execution is part of Jango’s plan. Rather, he sees himself staying here, caged by Jango’s affections and his thirst for control, locked away in these rooms, a mere symbol, a shell, a sign of power and dominance. Obi-Wan does not think Jango would stoop to rape, but he also doesn't think that he himself has the will to resist if Jango does try to sleep with him. It would only be a power play, after all, and of little consequence. Jango would want to make it feel good, most likely, and that's something.
He consoles himself with the thought that it is not the first time he has been kept a prisoner, and in this prison at least he is closer to his men and a culture he cares for. He can work through the hurt inside just as he has worked through his physical pain these past weeks. He will not cause a fuss or ask the galaxy for things he cannot have.
He will not ask for Jango's love.
He may even find a kind of equilibrium. Eventually.
Stop lying to yourself, the hum in his head whispers.
Jango turns back, then, and pins Obi-Wan down with a look. Those eyes see too much, have always seen too much, and also not enough. That was always the problem, but now...
"I sent Mij to pick you up for a reason," Jango begins. Obi-Wan, thrown by the change in topic, tries not to let his confusion show. "He told me you spoke. He likes you, Obi-Wan, and Mij doesn't really like anyone, so that is quite an accomplishment. There are other Galidraan survivors, and also just Mandalorians - and clones - with a grudge against the Jedi in general. They are like I was, at first. I won't say that they will be particularly warm with you, but they understand. And I think, in time, they will grow to know you and care for you as I do."
"Understand?" Obi-Wan echoes.
"They know that I would not have taken up the role of Mand'alor if it wasn't for you. I can admit now that it was all for you... if I hadn't needed the power, and a place to build a home for you, then I likely would have remained a wandering bounty hunter until the day I died. And now that we have regained control... well, even the dissenters know what it means to have a divided Mandalore, without proper leadership. They know what it is to have empty beskar armor without a runi, warm and vital, within it."
Obi-Wan knows he is not a stupid man, but he finds that he is incapable of forming a coherent reply at the moment. Pieces are falling into place but the sheer magnitude of what is being suggested... he stares at the Mand'alor, confusion and uncertainty warring with a dawning clarity as revelatory as it is frightening.
“I am not like you, Negotiator,” Jango continues, voice calm and even. “I admit that you have a way with words that I don’t. I’m a soldier, a vod… nothing more, really. I will happily leave diplomacy to you in future. I have no doubt Mandalore will be better for having you take the lead in political matters when you feel ready.”
“What?” The word slips out before Obi-Wan can stop it, but Jango ignores his outburst.
“But I have been a soldier since I was a youth. I was a bounty hunter when you knew me. Now I’m the Mand’alor. So, while I respect your opinion, Jedi General Kenobi, I must disagree. I do happen to know when a thing is worth conquering.”
Jango tilts his head slightly and looks at the jedi, licking his lips. He steps away from his armor rack and back towards Obi-Wan. He places his hand, hot like a brand, on Obi-Wan’s skin again, where it was before, gently caressing the old scar.
“Mountains and valleys,” he murmurs, tracing up over the dips and scars and skin, the patchwork history written on flesh. “Oceans and deserts. Moons, planets, systems…”
Obi-Wan tries to pull away but Jango will not allow it. Both of Jango’s hands land on Obi-Wan’s hips and his grip tightens.
“Stop,” Jango says, a command. “You will not run from me again. You think you can distract me with words. You think I will give you space and time to hide yourself away. I did that once, and it was a mistake, and it will not happen again. You’re out of time, ner jed’ika, so be still now.”
“Jango,” Obi-Wan says warningly. “I don’t wish to fight you. Don’t put me in a position where I have to.”
Jango’s response is the opposite of what Obi-Wan expects. The Mandalorian is not angry at being defied – instead, Jango smiles at him, a genuine smile, like a man seeing an old friend.
Jango lifts his free hand up and cups the other man’s face. His thumb brushes against the fresh scars at the temples, and his fingertips sweep gently across his forehead, down his cheek.
"There you are," Jango murmurs. "Ner cyar'ika, ni knew gar rucuyir ogir."
Obi-Wan swallows, uncertain how to respond.
“You think I conquered Mandalore?” Jango asks in a hushed, gentle tone. “Of course, that’s what I wanted the Republic to think. But you know Cody and the Vode, maybe better than anyone else in the galaxy. Do you think I conquered them? That I’m even capable of making a man like Cody bow to me by force?”
The grin fades, and Jango tilts his head again.
“You think I want you to bow to me, broken and subdued?”
Shaken, Obi-Wan bares his teeth and leans away from Jango.
“What else am I supposed to think?” Obi-Wan snaps. “What have you shown me to suggest otherwise? Besides, all the last few days have proven is that I don’t know anyone in my life half as well as I thought I did.”
“Know yourself, then,” Jango replies unhesitatingly, his stare intense. “Know what I know… that you are not a man to be conquered.”
“But I am,” the jedi’s voice cracks terribly, to his great shame. “I’m already… Jango…”
“You’re hurt.”
“Yes,” Obi-Wan replies. He blinks back unexpected moisture in his eyes. “Yes. By many things. In so many ways. Please, I can’t fight you. Please don't make me. I… I’m just tired, Jango.”
“So was Mandalore. I didn’t conquer anything, Obi-Wan. I came home and was welcomed like a lover, with arms open, and I swear that will care for Mandalore, make it flourish and grow. As for the Vode... that took time. I failed them, more spectacularly than anyone else ever could. But they forgave me, in time. After I proved myself. They follow me now because they believe we can be better, together. All of us. And they follow because of you, because they are devoted to you. Cody may never forgive himself for letting you get hurt.”
“He...” Obi-Wan shakes his head.
“He will likely spend the rest of his days making sure you know that you are his general,” Jango interrupts, gently. “Just as I will spend the rest of my life showing you just what you mean to me.”
“Why did you bring me here, Jango?” Just like that, it is too much. There are tears falling from Obi-Wan’s eyes and he hates it.
He hates the not knowing, but also he hates the knowing... because he knows now, he knows ... that secret thing he would not name, but now he knows, now he is sure...
“You are my dral’runi,” Jango says, damning them and saving them and shattering Obi-Wan’s whole universe.
“You are my Be’alor,” he continues, merciless. “And I would burn down worlds to keep you safe. There is nowhere in this galaxy where you could hide from me, where I wouldn’t find you. I felt it, knew it that first day on Kamino, but I denied it. I denied you, and I am sorry, cyare. I’m so sorry. I was angry and foolish and I thought I could control it, bury it under my pain. I didn’t know then what you were. What you are. I was so lost in myself that I failed to see my own soulmate at first. But you were there, and you were you, and I felt it... this thread tying me to you, stronger than beskar.”
“You don’t mean this. Jango…”
“I was such a fool. Cyare, forgive me. I didn’t know what the words meant. But we are one… we are one. Together and apart. And I will share all I am with you.”
“We can’t,” Obi-Wan feels like he must insist.
“You aren’t my prisoner,” Jango says. “You aren’t my slave or my tribute. But you are my soul and because of this – forgive me, cyar’ika, ner Obi-Wan, please forgive me – I will never let you go. Ni kar'tayl gar darasuum.”
“You can’t,” Obi-Wan whispers. “There isn’t anything left to… I’m not…”
Jango pushes forward suddenly, an unexpected move that takes Obi-Wan completely off guard. It is all the jedi can do not to react violently in self-defense, but he restrains himself because he knows, somehow, that Jango’s intent is not to hurt.
Jango is suddenly wrapped around Obi-Wan, holding him, propping him up between the mirror and his own body.
It should feel invasive, horrible, a boundary crossed. But Obi-Wan notices that the weight is suddenly off his bad leg – Jango is pushing his leg between Obi-Wan’s thighs and the effect, in addition to providing some interesting friction in a nice place, is that the strain on Obi-Wan’s wound is lessened considerably. There is no clarifying pain to bring his thoughts into focus, for better or worse, and all the fear and confusion stirring in his stomach quiets suddenly.
And Jango's arms are wrapped around him, supporting him, and Obi-Wan is touching more skin than he ever has before with Jango, and Jango is warm. Obi-Wan has been struggling with the cold lately, probably because...
“You’ve lost weight,” Jango says.
"I have not," Obi-Wan says, reflexively. "You should have told me all this before. You've... you've manipulated me. You should have told me what we... what we are."
“You wouldn't have believed me. You’re hurt, exhausted, and you feel abandoned by those you trusted. This is why you still don’t want to believe me now. But you feel it, I know. You've felt it all along.”
It's true that things are happening to Obi-Wan in this moment, physically. He is warm, and he is gently aroused, and… he is present. He is present in his body… not hurting, not fighting it, not distant. It is overwhelming...
"I haven't."
"You have. I think perhaps you confused your feelings with your Force osik, but you knew. There is a bond between us."
"Is that what this is?" Obi-Wan whispers. This feeling... it's there, like the hum in his head, stronger than it has ever been before.
No. Focus. Obi-Wan clears his throat.
"You said the Be'alor connects the Mand'alor and the people, belongs to both."
"I did. But it's nothing to be afraid of, Obi-Wan. You've already done that, brought us all together, cyare. You brought the Vode to us, to Mandalore. You're the link, binding us together as a people."
Obi-Wan makes a face. "No, I... I actually think it's meant literally."
"What do you mean?" Jango's brow furrows.
"There is something wrong...," Obi-Wan blurts out before correcting himself. "There is something new...a bond with the 212th, and with Mij... I felt it, it's why I fainted, I think, but..."
Obi-Wan trails off, uncertain. The admittedly limited knowledge Obi-Wan had about Mandalorians hadn't included this, and while that hum in his head is there, and bright, and comforting, it's also not something he has ever properly faced before. To his chagrin, Jango doesn't seem to know any more than he does - the man pauses, processing this, and then chuffs out a something between a chuckle and a sigh.
"We'll figure it out." Jango kisses Obi-Wan gently on the cheek, a chaste, honey-sweet kiss. It startles Obi-Wan, this kiss, and leaves an imprint of heat on his skin. He doesn't quite know how to feel about this intimacy.
"I'm no mystic, but whatever Force or Ka'ra or Be'alor magic osik this is, we'll figure it out. Maybe it's nothing the history books can tell us. Maybe it's something brand new. It doesn't matter. You are where you belong... here with me."
"Jango..." Obi-Wan warns.
"Our bond." Jango, smiling, places another kiss on Obi-Wan's face, this time on the corner of his mouth, once again very chaste and very sweet, though perhaps a little more heated now. "Our bond is what started all this. You feel that, I know you do. Dral'runi."
This, Obi-Wan cannot honestly deny.
But... there is still hurt there, lingering from the previous abandonments, and confusion, and doubt.
"Put me down," he says roughly. "I won't... I don't want to..."
"It's alright," Jango cuts the jedi off before he can protest further. In his defense, he does ease off slightly, taking a step back, though he doesn't release his grip on Obi-Wan's waist. "I love you. But I understand if you don't love me yet. I promise I won't touch you like that until you want me to. Just tell me and I'll stop. I... I would have changed the way I did all this, the way I brought you here and told you. I planned this out a whole different way. Forgive me, cyar’ika. Let me make it up to you. Let me court you."
Obi-Wan nearly laughs. The sound comes out as a breathless wheeze.
"Court me?" he huffs, incredulous. "Jango... I'm your hostage...reparations..."
"I told you you are not. You are my dral'runi, but I know that is not enough. I have learned patience in all of this, and I have learned that I need to work at it. We have time now. I will make it happen... I can be a man you can love. Let me court you. Let me earn this."
Obi-Wan stares at Jango, who sighs and presses his forehead against Obi-Wan's, a Keldabe kiss.
"You have survived so much, cyare. We both have. I don't know if there is anyone in the galaxy who is worthy of you… you are so brave, so strong, so wise. You are fierce beauty and devastating kindness. You stole my breath away when I saw you again in the throne room. There would be no greater honor I could have than trying to prove that I am your other half. Let me earn this. Let me learn to be worthy of your trust and love. Let me prove it to you that I love you and that you can love me. Let me give you a future like the one you gave me. I won't force you. Just let me show you."
There is a long pause between them as Obi-Wan considers this. Jango does not exhibit any impatience at all in the delay. Indeed, he seems as content as Obi-Wan has ever seen him to stand pressed up against the jedi, breathing his air, their foreheads touching.
Obi-Wan, silent, reels. He knows he should fight this. It's a violation of his autonomy, an all-encompassing soul bond triggered by what was essentially a kidnapping. He did not consent to any of this. It could be a trap, a trick. It goes against everything he was raised to believe about selfless sacrifice.
Jango is delusional to think that this relationship could work as it is, and this whole situation is insane, unexpected, ridiculous, and... oh, wait, this is why Mij Gilmar was so intense when they met. Because he thought Obi-Wan was the Be'alor. Right. That... that makes more sense, now.
Oh, they need... just, so much, to make this okay.
But, Obi-Wan is tired, still. He is torn between aching with lingering fear and pain and feeling almost giddy with relief that Jango and Cody and the 212th seem to really... care about him.
Mere weeks ago his life was something else, with a completely different set of goals. Weeks ago he was tearing himself apart trying to stop an impossible tide of violence. Days ago he was convinced he would be executed or imprisoned on Mandalore, and that Cody and the 212th might be the ones behind it.
And he really thought, when the other man walked away, that he would never see Jango Fett again.
And now he is in the arms of his lover-captor-soulmate, about to be made into the co-leader of a warrior people, with no means of escaping his fate.
Always in motion, the future is.
"I won't be chained up here," Obi-Wan growls.
"No," Jango agrees easily. "You were never a prisoner. If you truly wish to leave, I will let you. Though, do know that I will follow you... I'm still a bounty hunter, and I will follow you to the ends of the galaxy if need be. I will also ask that you take a squad if you plan to storm any enemy fortresses in future. And we're going to have to talk seriously about the political consequences of you, as Mandalorian royalty, openly supporting the Republic."
"I'm not trained for this. Jango, I'm not meant to be consort."
"Well, a Be'alor isn't exactly a consort, cyare... and I'm not trained for this either. We will make it work. I could rebuild the Mandalorian Empire, if you like? Give you more planets to rule? Or maybe one day we will simply get tired of ruling and run away to travel the stars."
“I’m a jedi,” Obi-Wan reminds him, grasping at that final thread, searching for any reason to deny this.
“Not anymore.”
“I don’t stop being a jedi just because I am here, or because you wish it.”
“Then be a Mandalorian jetti,” Jango responds, and Obi-Wan wants to strangle him, just a bit. “Care for our people. Bring us peace. Protect us from a corrupt Republic and our own self-destructive tendencies.”
“And you will accept that?”
“I will.” Jango kisses him then, on the lips. Even if he says he will not go further into intimacy until Obi-Wan wishes it, this, it seems, is something the Mand'alor will take from his Be'alor without asking. It starts chaste enough, deliberately nonthreatening, but Obi-Wan isn't so foolish as to think his walls aren't being worn down deliberately.
After a moment, though, Obi-Wan swallows down a lump in his throat - he swallows his fears, his wariness, his misgivings, and forces them down deep. They won't help him now, these emotions and doubts. He is alone in enemy territory, compromised in so many ways, being asked to do and believe in the impossible. He needs to see a way forward that isn't simply a reactionary response.
He needs to make a choice, now, regardless... and not even a choice about whether to stay or go, to remain a Jedi or become a Mandalorian.
As of right now he is simply Obi-Wan Kenobi at the crossroads. Nothing else. And he needs to decide, now, who and what he will be going forward.
Maybe... maybe he should just let Jango show him all he is offering.
He loves me. He said he loves me, and maybe it's a lie but maybe it's true. Maybe...
Maybe Jango could show him. Maybe Jango could prove it.
If he doesn't, then Obi-Wan will gladly - and successfully, he has no doubt - tear this gilded cage apart.
It is like that old saying: In the kingdom of the blind, the one-eyed man is king.
Perspective is everything.
Obi-Wan opens his mouth and allows Jango to breach his defenses. It is only partially a strategic choice... the rest is Obi-Wan allowing that dark, long-buried part of himself to rise up and meet the other man, indulging, finally, just for a moment in selfish desire and longing. The kiss deepens, stretches out, leaves them both locked against each other, sharing space, sharing air.
“Be my Be’alor," Jango murmurs against his mouth. "Lead with me. Care for me, for us. And let us take care of you.”
Jango kisses him again, and Obi-Wan doesn't fight it.
Won't fight it. Not anymore.
"You'll regret it," Obi-Wan warns him between breathless kisses.
"No," Jango smiles against Obi-Wan's lips. "No, I don't think I will."