FIC: Haat'Mand'alor be Yaim'ol ~ Star Wars ~ Obi-Wan/Jaster ~ Mature ~ Chapter 4/10

[batsutousai]

Title: Haat'Mand'alor be Yaim'ol
Fandom: Star Wars
Author: Batsutousai
Rating: Mature
Pairing: Obi-Wan Kenobi/Jaster Mereel
Warnings: Time travel, canon-typical violence, fix-it (apparently), not everyone dies/some live, the Kaminoans are the worst, Jaster is the Mand'alor we deserve, character death, the clones deserve better, Jaster has 3 million grandkids, mental manipulation, Mandalorian culture, Mandalorian morality, an excessive amount of murder (of Kaminoans), Jedi culture respected, Jango needs a hug, Rex needs a hug, Fox needs a hug, EVERYONE GETS A HUG (except the Kaminoans), asexual Jango, nonbinary clones, trans clones, polyamory mention, disabled characters, happy ending
Summary: Jaster Mereel doesn't die on Korda VI, but is instead thrust forward thirty years to Kamino.

A/N: Wherein Jaster and Obi-Wan finally get the chance to sort out their mutual attraction, and Jango reacts approximately as you would expect. Also, Dooku shows up.

Reminder that any sex scenes will be fade-to-black. I'm not writing them, but people are welcome to write their own versions and link back here, if something inspires.

Also, since it has come up in a few reviews, now, re:Anakin's actions on Tatooine: I don't believe it's Obi-Wan's job to stop Anakin from committing genocide. He is old enough to know better, and sending Obi-Wan in like an avenging knight-given Shmi's certain death (a reminder that it is AotC!canon that the Tuskens had already had her for a month; there is nothing, at this point, that anyone can do to save her) and Anakin's own feelings of being constantly held back (also AotC!canon)-is more likely to make the situation worse. Moreover, Obi-Wan's message from Geonosis (after doing some snooping around) comes in as Anakin is returning with Shmi's body (potentially a little after? How long did R2 wait to bring them the message?); timing-wise, in this fic, by the time Jango returns to Kamino (he made it nearly the whole way to Geonosis, then flew back; Geonosis and Tatooine look like they're in the same sector of space, on the galactic map, so we can assume travel time is similar to/from Kamino), it is already too late for Obi-Wan to make it to Tatooine and stop Anakin.
Also, Obi-Wan has his own mission to attend to. In this fic, that mission went from hunting the bounty hunter who attempted to kill the person currently in his padawan's care (whose trail went cold, because Obi-Wan didn't manage to tag Slave I with a tracker), to liaising with the newly-alive Mand'alor and learning about and safeguarding this army of 3 million souls, which supposedly belong to the Jedi Order. He has more important things to focus on than serving as Anakin's moral compass and impulse control. Give the man a fucking break.



Jaster had politely remained by the doors back into the facility while Obi-Wan comm'd the Jet'alore. Far enough away, not even his buy'ce's enhanced audio pick-up could catch more than two or three words over the heavy drumming of the rain. It wasn't something the jedi had requested, but Jaster has seen the way their shoulders had relaxed when he'd stayed back, and knew giving them space had been the best choice.

They found Vhonte waiting for them just inside, leant back against a wall, once Obi-Wan was finished. She pushed away from it as the doors closed behind them. "Jango filled us in," she said in Mando'a, her voice grim. "The battle-ready clones came to the unanimous decision that Ben is to be kept away from all clones as much as possible."

Obi-Wan sighed. "Yes," they said, sounding tired, "I rather expected something like that."

Vhonte nodded. "When I left, they were waiting on updates from Mij, and already working out a schedule for who will go next."

"I hope they're agreeing to the surgery for their own sakes," Obi-Wan said, "not out of a concern for my safety."

Vhonte hummed and shrugged. "I think some of them made their choice based on their being a danger to you, but others made it because they could be turned against each other, or made to commit suicide."

"Good."

Jaster couldn't quite stop himself from turning a disbelieving look on the jedi; what did Obi-Wan have against the clones choosing to have their chips removed for their sake?

Jedi.

"We have members of the Cuy'val Dar stationed in the comms room and monitoring Kamino space; we should have sufficient warning before anyone shows up here, or if the dar'jetii attempts to make contact."

Jaster and Obi-Wan both nodded. "If you can show me to a quiet corner-" Obi-Wan started.

Vhonte waved a finger in their face. "No. You're both soaked, again, and while Jaster got some sleep, you did not, Ben."

Jaster grimaced, because he didn't need a baar'ur breathing down his neck to know that he would be best served getting more sleep; between his own deficit of sleep before Korda VI, his heightened adrenaline from fighting and almost dying there, his wounds-even with the help of bacta, healing used up some of the body's energy, which was why most baar'ure insisted on knocking their patients out for at least part of the time-and then more fighting on Kamino, he wouldn't be surprised if he fell asleep the moment he let himself sit down somewhere.

Obi-Wan, on the other hand, insisted, "I can get by fine with meditating."

Vhonte was still for a long moment-Jaster suspected she was silently asking the Ka'ra for patience-then she said, "Meditation doesn't help with your wet clothing."

"Ah."

She let out what was probably a sigh, though it didn't translate well through her buy'ce's modulator. "Ben, I would strongly prefer that you get some kriffing sleep. But, honestly, I am going to shove you into a suite, and whatever you do to pass the time in there is not my concern."

Obi-Wan hummed and inclined their head in agreement.

"Stubborn empty-head," Vhonte muttered, turning and starting down the hall.

Obi-Wan sighed, while Jaster somehow managed to swallow his laugh, and they both followed her.

The trip from the landing pad Obi-Wan's ship was on was neither terribly long, nor particularly winding; they should be able to find their way back to the ship easily enough, should such prove necessary. (Jaster hadn't recognised the ship, but it had the lines to suggest it was very fast, and he'd seen forward-facing weapons of some sort, which suggested it was a starfighter; if the dar'jetii decided to attack from the air, instead of landing, the ship could prove necessary.)

Vhonte stopped in front of a door and keyed it open, then turned to them and said, "There's only this one free, so you'll have to share."

Something about her tone made Jaster think this was somehow planned, but he couldn't begin to imagine what the Togruta was plotting that necessitated them sharing quarters for a few hours.

Obi-Wan hummed, then stepped into the room.

Jaster pointed a warning finger at Vhonte, earning him a quiet chuckle, and followed the jedi into the room.

He found Obi-Wan standing in the doorway of what seemed to be the only bedroom, and was grateful for his buy'ce, certain he was blushing at the realisation that there was only one bed, and the ideas that birthed.

"I do believe," Obi-Wan said in Basic, "that Tervho has been reading too many Mandalorian romance novels."

Jaster blinked, baffled.

Obi-Wan glanced over at him, pale eyes gleaming with amusement. "From what I recall, one of the most popular formulas involved a fight to the death, one or multiple of the potential partners being wounded and requiring the help of the others, and then there only being one tent or sleep roll, so they're required to sleep together, and sex results."

Jaster tugged off his buy'ce so Obi-Wan could see his raised eyebrow. "Somehow, you don't strike me as the sort to read romance novels."

Obi-Wan shrugged, mouth quirking. "I had limited access to materials in Mando'a, while on Mandalore. I had plenty of beings willing to practice the spoken form with me, but I also wanted to learn the written form. I expect we were allowed access to romance novels as some sort of joke, but they served their purpose, while also informing on some parts of the culture that I wouldn't likely have learnt about, otherwise."

Jaster had to blink a couple of times and clear his throat. "I am not certain what use you would get out of the parts of Mando culture that can be found in such books."

"You might be surprised," Obi-Wan replied as they stepped forward, heading towards what looked like a cupboard door set in the wall. "Perhaps I should let you borrow some jedi romance novels."

Jaster stared. "Jedi have romance novels?" he demanded, and couldn't do anything about the disbelief clear in his voice.

"Of course we do." Obi-Wan snorted as they shrugged out of their robe and hung it on a hook just inside the cupboard door. "I really don't understand where this idea of the Order requiring chastity of our members came from."

Something in Jaster's chest thrummed. "It's the robes," he heard himself say.

Obi-Wan hummed as they removed their belt and set it aside, on an empty shelf inside the cupboard, their kad'au set gently next to it, then started unwrapping the strip of fabric that had been under it. That was dropped to the floor, to one side, with a wet sound, followed by the thick strips of fabric over their shoulders, and then Obi-Wan was shrugging out of their outer tunic and dropping that to the side.

The inner tunic was much tighter, showing muscled arms and shoulders. It was also shorter, giving Jaster a view of the way the fabric of the jedi's leggings hugged their thighs and the swell of their arse. "So," he somehow managed to say, despite the dryness of his mouth, "there's no rules against sex."

Obi-Wan glanced back, something dark and promising in their eyes. "No, no rules against sex," they agreed, and then leant forward and down, fussing with their boots, rear end on display and wiggling slightly as they shifted. "Why?" they asked in a perfectly innocent voice. "Were you interested in taking Tervho's unsubtle hints, Mand'alor?"

Something about the way their prim core accent curled around Jaster's title made his ven'cabur feel uncomfortably tight. He made himself walk forward, into the room, and stopped directly behind Obi-Wan, stretching over them to set his buy'ce on the shelf with Obi-Wan's belt, the front of his ven'cabur pushing into Obi-Wan's arse.

Obi-Wan sucked in a sharp breath, and then pushed back into the contact.

Jaster swallowed and murmured, "What if I am? Interested?" he asked, clenching his hands into fists to keep from touching. Not until he had permission.

"Well then," Obi-Wan replied, their voice rough, "I suppose that makes two of us."

Jaster took that as permission, and received no complaints when he put his hands on the jedi and proceeded to finish stripping them. Nor did he complain when Obi-Wan's clever fingers undid the hidden clasps on his beskar'gam, the pieces floating away to settle gently into a pile against the wall.

By the time they tumbled into the bed, they were both completely naked, and Jaster was well on his way to discovering that, if jedi did have chastity rules, this particular one had not cared to follow them.

Jaster woke to the sound of a door opening, hand already groping at empty air before he remembered that he wasn't in his shipboard cabin, and he hadn't really been enough focussed to think to grab one of his blades or the carbine to keep close to hand before he fell asleep.

"Your son," Obi-Wan muttered against his shoulder, before turning over in the bed and, by all appearances, going back to sleep.

"Buir?" Jango's voice came, sounding uncertain.

Jaster sighed and sat up to rub a hand over his face, then looked up at where Jango had stopped in the opened doorway of the bedroom. His buy'ce was clipped to his belt, the light behind him shadowed his expression, but Jaster didn't need to see his ad's face to know he wouldn't be happy to discover Jaster in bed with their resident jedi. "Let me get some clothing on," he ordered, and flicked a shooing motion towards his ad.

Jango hesitated, then stepped back, the door sliding closed behind him.

Jaster sighed and leant over to press a kiss to the freckled skin of Obi-Wan's bare shoulder, unable to help himself, then got up to go hunting in the cupboard for at least some trousers that he could wear out of the bedroom.

He found Jango in the kitchen, scowling at the caf machine as it burbled away. "If you start yelling and wake Obi-Wan up, I will kick you out," he warned his ad, before Jango could realise he had arrived and spoke first. "By all accounts, they haven't had any sleep since before I arrived, and we're going to need them at the top of their game, if that dar'jetii shows up. Especially with the clones still chipped."

Jango let out a near-silent snarl. "You shouldn't trust them, Buir. Jetiise are-"

Jaster set a hand on Jango's nape, and his ad's mouth snapped shut, though he didn't look away from the caf machine. "I trust Obi-Wan," he said quietly. "Vhonte vouches for them, and they have saved my life, and the lives and freedom of my grandchildren."

Jango let out a quiet, discontent sound. "But sleeping with them?" he complained, sounding plaintive.

Jaster rolled his eyes. "You never complained about me taking any of my supercommandos to bed."

Jango finally looked up, eyes wide in shock. "You were sleeping with-?!" he started, before darkening with a flush and squeezing his eyes shut and moaning, "Ka'ra."

Jaster raised an eyebrow. "What did you think we did all night?"

"Got way too drunk and had a sleepover," Jango muttered, sounding more embarrassed than Jaster had heard in years, his ad always so very determined to put on a brave face, as though afraid that, if he showed any weakness, he would lose Jaster's love, or what trust he'd already built with Jaster's ramikade.

Jaster couldn't help it, he laughed.

Jango smacked him, gentle enough that his kom'rk against Jaster's bare chest didn't hurt. "Shut up," he snarled. "How the kriff was I supposed to know?"

Jaster shook his head, amused. "You were fourteen; most humanoids who reach puberty around then are at least enough aware and interested to be making suppositions, Jan'ika."

Jango reached into a cupboard and tugged out two mugs as the caf machine clicked off, setting them on the worktop a little too hard. "Well, I didn't," he snarled in that defensive tone that had always warned Jaster he was treading treacherous ground. "And I don't," he added, quieter, but no less defensive.

Jaster blinked, then murmured, "Sol'karta?"

Jango jerked his head in a nod, then shrugged.

Jaster stepped up next to his ad and kissed the side of his forehead. "That's fine," he promised, because it had never mattered to him whether or not his ad found someone to share his bed or heart, so long as he was happy.

Jango's shoulders relaxed, and his hands were steady as he poured some caf into both mugs, then held one over to Jaster.

"Thank you," Jaster murmured, and got a quick flash of a smile from Jango. "Why don't we go sit, and you can tell me what brought you to me."

Jango grimaced, but didn't argue. Instead, he collected his own mug and followed Jaster out to the little sitting area, where there was a sofa-long enough that he or Obi-Wan could have slept on it, not that Jaster had known it was there, nor did he regret sharing a bed with the jedi-and two uncomfortable-looking chairs. When Jaster motioned for Jango to pick first, he tugged Jaster over to sit on the sofa with him.

They were both silent for a long moment, sipping their caf, until Jaster said, "At least this isn't so terrible as to need spices to make it palatable."

Jango snorted, golden-brown eyes dancing over the rim of his mug. "Proper spices have been nearly impossible to find since that dar'manda 'duchess' took over," he said, only sounding a little bitter.

Jaster hummed. "Yes, I heard about that. Are they not exporting at all, or are they just not selling to those who would accept true Mando'ade as customers?"

Jango frowned, looking uncertain.

"Limited exports," Obi-Wan called from the bedroom, voice thick like they were still half asleep. "But some of the Mandalorian outposts, like Little Keldabe, on Coruscant, have found ways to create their own batches of various spices and sell them."

"What would you know about Manda'tsade, jetii?" Jango snarled, tone nasty.

Jaster sighed.

"Only what a couple of smugglers I know have told me," Obi-Wan replied, tone bland. "Jedi are forbidden to visit Little Keldabe, and I never bothered to try visiting any others."

"Yeah, well, good," Jango muttered, and scowled into his mug when Jaster frowned at him.

Obi-Wan stepped out of the bedroom, dressed in their layers of tunics once again, with their robe draped over one arm. "I'm going to go find a place-" they started.

"You're going to trip over one of the clones and start a panic," Jango interrupted, and Jaster saw Obi-Wan flinch. "If you want to leave, you need a chaperone."

"Ah." Obi-Wan cleared their throat. "I see. If you could contact Tervho-"

"No," Jango interrupted, then pointed at one of the chairs. "Sit, jetii."

Obi-Wan glanced between Jango, Jaster, and the chair. "I didn't intend to interrupt-"

"Sit," Jango ordered, pointing a bit more emphatically.

"Jango," Jaster said as Obi-Wan stepped over to the chair.

Jango grimaced. "You're going to tell them anyway," he muttered to his mug.

"Why would I tell Obi-Wan something you shared in confidence?" Jaster demanded, even as Obi-Wan said, "Is this something about Tyranus?"

Jango blinked a couple of times, brow furrowed in confusion, as he looked between them. "Tyranus?" he asked, sounding baffled. "Why would I come to Buir about them?"

Obi-Wan raised an eyebrow. "I don't know, Fett. Perhaps because they're relevant to current events?"

"Is there an update about the clones?" Jaster asked, frowning. He felt like he was missing something.

Jango shook his head. "It's barely been five hours; I don't expect any updates from Mij for at least a full cycle. They worry," he added, clearly seeing the bafflement on Jaster's face.

"If this isn't about Tyranus or the clones, why would I share it with Obi-Wan?" Jaster asked.

"Because you're sleeping together," Jango said, like it was obvious.

Jaster closed his eyes as it occurred to him that, if Jango was sol'karta, he'd very likely never had a relationship before, and, since he'd never realised Jaster had been sleeping with some of his ori'ramikade, his birth buire were the only real relationship he knew of to base his expectations on. He'd had a class on it, of course, but Jango had always cared far more for fighting than he had for his lessons. And, if he'd had no particular interest in sex or relationships, the class had likely just felt like a waste of time to him. "Jan'ika, having sex and being in a relationship with someone are not mutually inclusive."

Jango scowled, eyebrows furrowed.

Obi-Wan sighed and sat down. When Jaster glanced over at them, they just motioned towards him with a hand, as though to say, 'your battle'.

Jaster bit back a sigh of his own and turned back to his ad. "Obi-Wan and I find each other attractive," he said drily, resigning himself to actually having this conversation with his grown ad, while his current lover listened in. "Well," he couldn't resist adding, glancing over at the jedi, "I assume Obi-Wan finds me attractive."

Obi-Wan's pale eyes raked over his half-dressed form in a way that sent heat through Jaster's veins. "You assume correctly," they murmured, voice low.

Jango snarled.

Jaster grabbed his ad's wrist before Jango could decide to use his mug of caf as a weapon. "Vhonte shoved us in a room together, we agreed we were interested in having sex, so we did," he said bluntly, and Jango grimaced, but relaxed back against the sofa back, showing he wouldn't attack Obi-Wan.

Yet.

"We didn't have a conversation about anything after that, because we both fell asleep," he finished.

"Even if we had," Obi-Wan added, voice perfectly calm and unbothered, "that doesn't mean Jaster is going to tell me anything you would tell them in confidence; they are your parent, and I would never wish to get between you, nor to know things that would make you uncomfortable, especially since I know you don't trust me." They stood. "If you-"

"Have it now," Jango ordered, glaring at Obi-Wan in that stubborn, challenging way that Jaster hadn't actually seen since his ad had settled enough to recognise that Jaster wasn't moved by it.

"Have what now?" Obi-Wan requested, tone perfectly polite.

"Your talk." Jango nodded to Jaster without turning his glare from Obi-Wan.

Obi-Wan raised an eyebrow. "No," they said.

Jaster winced; he didn't particularly want to have that particular conversation in front of Jango, honestly, but that flat refusal was not going to end well. "Jan'ika-"

Jango sneered. "You are just like every other jetii," he spat. "Without a heart or a soul."

"Jango Fett Mereel!" Jaster snapped.

Jango flinched, but turned a stubborn glower on Jaster. "They are," he insisted. "Everyone knows jetiise cannot have relationships, Buir, because-"

"Because we must put our duty to the Force and to the Republic before anything else," Obi-Wan interrupted flatly, before Jaster could think of something to say that wasn't a threat to tan Jango's hide for being so rude. "Just as the Mand'alor must put the Mando'ade before their own wishes."

Jango ducked his head towards his caf, clearly taking that addition as a comment on how poor a Mand'alor he'd been.

"Obi-Wan," Jaster warned.

Obi-Wan raised their chin, something cold in their pale eyes. "No," they said coolly, and Jaster felt like he was seeing a side of the jedi he hadn't yet realised existed. "I spent a year fighting for peace on Manda'yaim, and the current government might not be one I approve of, but at least I cared enough to fight."

Jango jumped to his feet, mug dropping to the floor and spilling as he drew his blasters. "You dare-" he snarled.

"Enough!" Jaster roared, getting to his own feet and grabbing for Jango's nearest arm.

Obi-Wan bowed smoothly, then turned and walked out of the flat.

"They can't-!" Jango started to yell.

"Sit. Down," Jaster ordered.

Jango opened his mouth as he turned to glare at Jaster, then flinched back, holstered his weapons, and sat.

Jaster closed his eyes and took a deep breath. "Comm everyone and let them know Obi-Wan is out in the halls."

"Yes, Buir," Jango agreed quietly.

"I am going to get dressed," Jaster decided, and left to do so.

By the time he was armoured up, he still didn't know what to do about the disaster of a conversation that had just happened.

Jango had a fresh mug of caf for Jaster, once he came back out, offering it like an apology.

Jaster accepted it, then asked, "What did you want to talk about?" before taking a sip. He felt awake enough not to need the caffeine, but he knew that refusing the drink would result in Jango becoming surly and even more argumentative; drinking it was the easier course, especially since it really wasn't bad caf.

Jango scowled down at the floor and muttered something that Jaster didn't completely catch.

"Repeat that, louder and clearer," he ordered, because what he had heard didn't sound very good.

"I want you to be Mand'alor again," Jango said, clear enough for Jaster to be certain what he heard, but still looking down, like he had when he was an adiik and had got into something he'd known he shouldn't have, awaiting a punishment he knew was coming.

Jaster took a careful breath, setting the mug down before he had to fight the urge to throw it. "Mand'alor isn't a title you can just bandy about when you feel like it, Jango. You know this."

Jango gave a sharp, jerky shrug in response. "Even the jetii knows I'm no Mand'alor. I got our people killed and our culture almost completely wiped out." He reached up and yanked the ka'rta beskar from the centre of his haalas. "I stood back and let three million children be tortured and enslaved," he added, and Jaster couldn't help but flinch. "I am dar'manda." He held out his ka'rta beskar.

Jaster heard his heartbeat thundering in his ears, counting the seconds into minutes that he couldn't make himself reach out to take back the small piece of beskar'gam that he had given his ad not even two years ago.

"Bu- Alor," Jango said, his voice small, "you have to take it."

"Jan'ika," Jaster breathed, feeling like his heart was breaking.

"Gedet'ye," Jango whispered, voice catching. When he glanced up, Jaster saw tears filling his eyes.

Jaster made himself reach out, though his whole body protested, and wrapped his hands around his ad's hand. "I will take this," he said quietly, hearing the heartbreak in his own voice, as clear as shipboard proximity alarms, "and I will keep it safe, until you have found a way to redeem yourself."

"What if I can't?" Jango asked, and Jaster could hear the terrified and heartbroken eight-year-old he'd brought into his house and clan, naming him his own ad before anyone else could have claimed him, for all that Jango had believed no one would have wanted him, least of all the Mand'alor.

Jaster reached out and caught a hand around Jango's nape, pulling him forward and meeting him over their joined hands for a mirshmure'cya. "You are my child, lighting my way through darkness to safety," he murmured, reminding Jango of how they had met, how Jango's idea to escape his family's burning fields through the irrigation tube had saved all their lives. "I will always believe in you, even when you have forgotten how to believe in yourself."

Jango hiccupped and choked, and then he pushed past the mirshmure'cya to hide his face against Jaster's throat, gasping through sobs as Jaster took the ka'rta beskar and pulled him into as tight a hug as they could manage while both in beskar'gam.

Jaster knew that he should take all of Jango's beskar'gam, should leave his ad defenceless and force him to win it back one piece at a time-it's what he's meant to do-but he wasn't certain he had the heart to do so, not when Jango had been the one to choose this punishment. If Jango decided to stop wearing his beskar'gam, to only put it back on one piece at a time, when he felt he had earnt the right, that would be his choice.

Jaster would keep hold of his ka'rta beskar, would keep it safe until his ad could stand strong again, proud of himself and his accomplishments. No matter how long it took.

Once Jango had calmed down, Jaster had sat him back down and got him to tell him about all of the Cuy'val Dar, getting their comm codes and those of the Null, Alpha, and command clones, so he could contact them when necessary.

When they got the alarm that a ship had entered Kamino space, there had been no updates on Obi-Wan, despite half the Cuy'val Dar being out looking for them. Jaster had been mildly impressed, while Jango had scowled at any mention of the jedi.

(Vhonte had just shaken her head and told them Obi-Wan would be fine on their own, but the complication of the chips had everyone too wary to just let the jedi wander around the city without supervision, so she'd joined the search parties. Not that she'd had any more luck than anyone else in hunting them down.)

As soon as word came that the ship was entering atmosphere and heading towards a platform to land, Jaster and Jango made their way there, meeting with a group of nearly ten Mando'ad Cuy'val Dar on the way, which would, hopefully, be enough firepower if this was the dar'jetii.

When they rounded the last curve of the hallway to the doorway leading out to the landing platform, they found Obi-Wan standing there, brow furrowed as they stared at the closed door.

"Where have you been?" Jaster asked as he stopped at the jedi's shoulder, the others stopping a few steps back.

"Around," Obi-Wan replied in an almost absentminded tone.

Jaster sighed.

Obi-Wan glanced at him, the corner of their mouth quirking up just enough to suggest at amusement, though their pale eyes looked cold. "Jedi are very good at avoiding living sentients."

Behind them, one of the Mando'ade cursed.

"I'll keep that in mind," Jaster replied drily.

Then the door out to the landing platform opened, admitting a tall human or near with white hair, beard, and moustache, wearing a black tunic and a dark brown cape, a partially curved kad'au hilt hanging from their belt. They stopped barely two steps inside, looking over the gathering without any expression, eyes finally coming to a rest on Obi-Wan.

Obi-Wan bowed. "Grandmaster," they said, perfectly polite.

Jaster sucked in a surprised breath, remembering what Obi-Wan had said about their master's master, that they had been at Galidraan, and had since left the Jet'tsad.

"...Grandpadawan," the white-haired being replied calmly enough, before their eyes jumped to someone behind Jaster. "Fe-"

"What are you doing here, Grandmaster?" Obi-Wan interrupted, taking a step forward. "Last I heard, you were on the Separatist Council. A founding member, I believe."

The white-haired being's eyes narrowed. "I am," they replied. Their voice was cool, with just a hint of a something that set the little hairs on Jaster's nape standing on end. "The last I had heard, you were running around, convincing those interested in leaving the Republic Senate what a, hm, ill-advised choice that would be." They made a show of looking around them. "Where is that poorly-bred padawan of yours?"

Obi-Wan's shoulders stiffened, just enough for Jaster to notice, even with the heavy cloak hiding the motion. "Anakin? The Council believed he was ready for a solo mission."

The other's smile was cool. "Yes, the Council does like to make those sort of choices without enquiring after their master."

"Do they?" Obi-Wan returned, perfectly polite. "Is that what happened with Komari?"

The other's expression twisted with rage, and they took a single step forward, before halting as Jaster and all of the Mando'ade behind him raised their blasters, pointing them at the stranger. Their eyes flickered over the armed Mando'ade, clearly calculating potential outcomes.

"Why are you here, Grandmaster?" Obi-Wan asked again. "What business does Serenno have with Kamino?"

Their eyes narrowed on Obi-Wan again. "I don't believe that's any of your business, Grandpadawan. Unless Kamino has joined the Republic, you have no power here."

"No, not the Republic," Jaster interrupted. "Kamino is under my command. So, perhaps you will answer me why you are here."

The other straightened, towering over both Obi-Wan and Jaster. "And who are you? Where is Lama Su?"

"Lama Su is dead," Jaster replied flatly. "I am Jaster Mereel, head of House Mereel and Mand'alor."

Their brow furrowed, looking like some mix of angry and confused, but in a haughty way. "Jaster Mereel is dead," they said.

"The Force works in mysterious ways," Obi-Wan said, and the other twitched, eyes jumping back to Obi-Wan. "Mand'alor Mereel, may I present the current leader of the planet of Serenno, Count Yan Dooku," Obi-Wan said politely enough, before their voice iced over as they added, "Or do you prefer 'Darth Tyranus'?"

So, Jaster thought as the white-haired being narrowed their eyes at Obi-Wan, hand touching the kad'au hilt on their belt, this is the one who kriffed with my child's mind and ordered this army of slaves.

"Dooku," Jango snarled, sounding angrier than Jaster had yet heard from his ad. "Demagolka. You murdered my people!"

Tyranus sighed. "This is unfortunate," they said, and raised a hand towards Jango.

"No!" Obi-Wan shouted, and shoved at air.

Tyranus stumbled back, lightning jumping from their fingers, forks grounding themselves in the ceiling, blasting out a window, sparking against Jaster's bes'marbur sharp enough to hurt, and striking Obi-Wan in the chest.

"Ke'tracyn!" Jaster roared, and blasterfire filled the air, even as Obi-Wan collapsed.

At least two bolts managed to strike the dar'jetii before they had lit their red kad'au and started blocking the shots, sending the first few into the walls and ceiling, before someone behind Jaster let out a cry, and Jango shouted, "Gev!"

And then the kad'au jerked out of Tyranus' hand, flying to Obi-Wan's outstretched hand.

Jaster didn't waste the opportunity, raising his off hand and activating his last two, precious sen'laare, marking Tyranus' forehead as their target.

The dar'jetii jerked at the 'rat-tat' impacts, swayed for a heartbeat, and then crumpled.

Jaster took two quick steps forward and dropped to his knees at Obi-Wan's side, wrapping an arm around their shoulders. "Obi-Wan? Me'vaar ti gar?"

Obi-Wan coughed, letting the arm holding the kad'au drop as the blade vanished back into the hilt. "Crispy," they breathed. "Ow."

Someone stopped next to Jaster and he looked up to find Jango standing next to him, almost looking like he was swaying. "I'll take Kenobi to Mij, Buir," he said, something odd about his voice through his buy'ce's modulator.

Jaster narrowed his eyes. "Me'vaar ti gar?" he demanded.

"K'atini," Jango replied. And then, before Jaster could yell about that not being a proper update, he said, "I have a headache from hell and I'm a little dizzy, but I'm pretty sure Kenobi and I can make it leaning on each other. If you can get up, jetii."

Obi-Wan coughed again, then said, "K'atini," and started to climb to their feet.

Jaster helped them up and made sure the pair were steady enough to walk together, then forced himself to turn his focus to checking on the rest of those who had fought with them and the clean-up of yet another body.

Swart Swift and Rav Bralor had both taken hits from the rebounded blaster bolts, and had already headed in the opposite direction from Jango and Obi-Wan, as they were able to visit the main infirmary, currently staffed by clone baar'ure. Jango could have gone with them, but had instead made the decision to help Obi-Wan, which Jaster was going to have to wonder about later.

Tyranus' body was searched, their comm set aside to be passed on to someone more capable with slicing, then a droid was sent for to clean up the body, while Jaster and the other five Mando'ade with him made their way out to the ship on the platform.

There was one floating droid waiting for them in the ship, which fired on them as soon as it determined they weren't authorised to be there. They shot it down, then set about searching the ship, finding provisions for a week, some very fine changes of clothing (including another cape and decorative fastener), enough medical supplies to survive nearly any injury, and three different datapads. One had books of poetry and a couple of novels on it, another took a moment to slice and revealed documentation that-Jaster admitted, once he'd got a look-was necessary for the leadership of a planet. The last one resisted the first two slicing attempts, and was set aside to be given to one of their better slicers.

The ship's logs told them it had come from Geonosis, and Serenno before that. There were recent trips to a handful of mid- and outer rim planets, as well as one outlier of a trip to Coruscant, which Jaster frowned at, even as the logs were downloaded onto a datastick one of the others had produced.

The medical supplies were sent to the main infirmary, while the food was sent to be tested-the Ka'ra only knew what sorts of things dar'jetiise might poison their food with, just for the sheer joy of kriffing over anyone who thought to steal from them-then added to the food stores. The comm, locked datapad, and ships logs were sent to their slicers. Jaster probably should have sent the other two datapads along with, but he was curious about the novels-he remembered what Obi-Wan had said, however jokingly, about jedi romance novels, and couldn't resist the urge to take the 'pad to them-and he was the one best suited to go through the Serenno documentation to determine who needed to be informed about Tyranus' death, and figure out who the heir to their title was. Assuming they'd named an heir.

With the ship cleared of anything useful, they set the autodestruct, then set the autopilot to take the ship away, so it could explode in space. It was still possible that someone could track it to Kamino-Jaster couldn't quite forget what Obi-Wan had said about there always being two dar'jetiise-but better to trash the ship in space, than on the planet, leading whoever came to investigate straight to Tipoca City without any chance to warn them of potential danger.

Done with that, Jaster made his way to the small infirmary Gilamar had set up just in case they needed to treat a jedi-Obi-Wan, presumably, but they had said something about asking for more jedi to come to Kamino-while clones with chips still in their heads were in the main infirmary.

He found one of the adult clones standing guard inside, out of armour, so Jaster could see both the bandaging over a shaved patch on their head, and the scowl they turned on him. "I thought I told you to keep my general safe," they groused.

Jango snorted from where he was sitting on one of the beds, while Obi-Wan sighed and said, "I'm fine, Seventeen."

"The kriff you are," Baar'ur Gilamar replied irritably as they pulled something out of a cabinet and shut the door. "Alor," they added, inclining their head to Jaster.

"Baar'ur," Jaster returned, clapping Seventeen on the shoulder. "Unfortunately, there's only so much anyone could have done when your opponent shoots lightning from their fingertips."

Seventeen let out a disgusted snort, then their gold-brown eyes caught on Jaster's bes'marbur and they smiled, slow and nasty. "Looks like General Kenobi wasn't the only one it hit," they said.

"Buir?" Jango asked, concern in his voice, while Obi-Wan's eyes narrowed on Jaster, their mouth pursing.

Gilamar scowled and pointed at an empty bed next to Jango's as they took whatever they'd retrieved from the cabinet over to Obi-Wan. "Beskar'gam off, then sit," they ordered.

Jaster sighed and did as ordered.

The beskar had taken the worst of the damage-scarred with a jagged black crack in the centre of the shield with the kyr'bes; some would take it as a bad omen, but Jaster chose to believe that the bes'marbur remaining in one piece and the kyr'bes not being obliterated was a good omen, a sign that those who answered his call could be damaged, but were still holding together-but there was still an angry red mark on his shoulder that hurt just enough to be noticeable when Gilamar came over to prod at it.

Since it seemed he would be trapped in the infirmary for a while, Jaster had shared what he knew of their findings with Jango and Obi-Wan. Gilamar had glared when Jaster made to get out of bed to give Obi-Wan Tyranus' personal datapad-pointing out that his legs were fine earned him a threat of sedation, while the other three in the room all did a poor job of hiding grins-but the baar'ur had been willing to hand the 'pad over to Obi-Wan themself.

"Some of the poetry is jedi," Obi-Wan said after glancing through it, their eyebrows raising. "He had good taste. How unfortunate."

Jango snorted. "Or you have bad taste," he said, in a tone that was, for him, almost amicable.

Jaster eyed his ad curiously, and Jango very purposefully didn't look at him.

Obi-Wan hummed in reply. "I don't recognise any of the rest of this, but I suspect it's literature from Serenno, given where he's made his home for the past decade." They glanced at Jaster. "Did you want it back?"

Jaster held up the other datapad. "No, I have my own reading material to keep me occupied."

Obi-Wan quirked a smile. "How riveting," they said, voice dry as a desert, and Jaster heard Jango and Seventeen let out eerily similar snorts. Obi-Wan looked over at Jango. "Shall I read some of the poetry aloud, so you can make a proper determination about my tastes, Ser Fett?" they asked.

"Spare me," Jango shot back, even as he relaxed back on his bed and closed his eyes.

Obi-Wan glanced at Jaster, who smiled and nodded-if Jango had really been against hearing the poetry, he'd have made a point of covering his ears, or sat prepared to throw something at the first sign that Obi-Wan would start reading-and then the jedi started reading. Their voice was low and soothing, core accent curling around the words in a manner that Jaster, at least, found comforting.

The poetry, itself, spoke of finding peace in the wilds of nature, describing the way sunlight and the breeze moved through the branches of a tree, the sounds of a nearby stream and the calls of birds and insects. It was nothing at all like the rare Mando poetry Jaster had stumbled across in his youth, but he found that he enjoyed it far more than he ever had the glorifications of combat and the grief for losses in battle unending.

Jaster hadn't even realised he'd fallen asleep, until he woke to find the infirmary lights had been dimmed, light snoring coming from both Jango's bed and the one next to Obi-Wan's, which Jaster squinted at in confusion for a long moment, before recognising one of the clones; Seventeen, most likely.

Obi-Wan was sitting in their own bed, looking relaxed. They cracked one eye open after a moment of Jaster watching them and smiled. "I am afraid," they murmured quietly, "that my poetry put everyone else to sleep. Baar'ur Gilamar had to give themself a stimulant so they could be sure they would stay awake to perform a couple more chip surgeries before the end of their shift."

Jaster chuckled quietly. "Such calm poetry isn't normal for us Mando'ade," he murmured as he cast a quick look around the room, then slid out of his bed and stepped over to Obi-Wan's.

Obi-Wan's eyes were glinting with amusement as they patted the empty space in front of them, their legs curled under them. "Oh, I know. Jedi poetry is sometimes used to help our younglings learn to meditate, because the rhythm of the words matches the optimal rhythm of breathing." Their lips curled with a sly smile. "Of course, for those with little to no practise in meditation, it can also serve as a good way to put them to sleep."

"Of course," Jaster replied drily, and then leant in to kiss that smile, humming happily when Obi-Wan kissed him back, relaxing into the contact. "How are you?" Jaster asked after a long moment, pulling back until just their foreheads and the bridges of their noses were connected. "Truly."

Obi-Wan sighed. "A little sore," they admitted, sounding rueful. "Gilamar gave me another bacta infusion, and I managed some healing of my own, while the rest of you slept."

Jaster raised an eyebrow at that. "Healing of your own?" he asked.

Obi-Wan hummed as one of their hands threaded through the strands of Jaster's hair at the back of his head, gently combing out tangles. "I can put myself into a light trance, like meditation, and direct the Force to boost my body's natural healing. It's a useful technique for keeping yourself alive when you know help is coming, but your wounds are severe enough that you might die while waiting, or if you have an hour or two of safety and no medical supplies to see to a wound."

"Handy," Jaster admitted.

Obi-Wan let out a quiet laugh, the sound almost seeming to curl around Jaster like a comfortable blanket. "It does tend to frustrate non-sensitive medics, however," they said with clear amusement. "Something about the way they can't keep us in bed as long as they'd like."

Jaster snorted, amused. "Medics do seem to enjoy trapping patients in their beds for extended periods."

"Jedi healers are much the same. One of my best friends is a healer, and she's always trying to find excuses to keep me in bed, any time I must resort to the Halls."

Jaster chuckled and couldn't resist saying, "I know a couple of ways to keep you in bed."

Obi-Wan let out a choked noise. "Oh, kriff. I think your son will murder me, if he catches us in another compromising position."

Jaster grinned. "Seventeen will protect you," he pointed out.

Obi-Wan huffed. "You missed Gilamar telling them off for being out of bed. Apparently, as soon as they'd heard I'd got hurt, they intimidated the clone medics into letting them out of the infirmary, stole a weapon from the first clone they passed in the halls, and made their way here."

"They are definitely Jango's child," Jaster said wryly, because that sounded like something Jango would have done, had something happened to Jaster while Jango was in a hospital bed of his own.

Obi-Wan let out a near-silent hum and pulled their fingers from Jaster's hair, drawing back slightly. "We should fit," they said. "Lie down with me?"

It took them some shuffling, but they did manage to fit themselves on the bed together, Jaster's back pressed warmly against Obi-Wan's front, the jedi's arms wrapped around him just tight enough to be a comfort.

Jaster was just starting to drift off again, when Obi-Wan whispered, "I'm not very good, with relationships. Friends with benefits, yes; relationships, not so much."

Jaster pinched his arm to wake himself up enough for this conversation. "Because of your duty as a jedi?" he asked.

Obi-Wan's shoulder moved behind him, and Jaster assumed they'd shrugged it. "My master was one of the most accomplished diplomatic jedi in the Order, and I inherited most of the trust the Senate had placed in him, when it comes to mediating fraught conflicts. I'm also the only jedi to have killed a sith in near a millennium, so the Council will send me on missions they expect to be dangerous, or that involve dark siders, although, they haven't assigned me any such missions since Anakin became a senior padawan, as it has become much more difficult to ensure he will remain in Temple."

Jaster hummed, threading the fingers of one of his hands between the fingers of one of Obi-Wan's. "The only reason I bothered returning to Manda'yaim, between missions, was for Jango's sake, or because something had gone wrong and couldn't be handled in person, for whatever reason; I understand well how duty can keep people apart."

Obi-Wan nuzzled against the back of Jaster's head without a response.

Jaster took a moment to think about what Obi-Wan had first said, about his own history of post-battle sex with his ori'ramikade-unspoken, but always understood, that being in his bed was no promise of favour, just a way to blow off steam-and about the clones and Jango, the millions of lives that had to be his priority. "Friends with benefits," he murmured, and Obi-Wan stilled behind him. "For the moment, that suits me." He huffed out a quiet laugh and added, "I'm not sure I'd be able to give courting you the proper focus."

"Courting?" Obi-Wan repeated, voice pitched just a little too high.

Jaster let himself smile and pulled the hand he'd threaded with his own up to kiss the inside of Obi-Wan's wrist. When Obi-Wan sucked in a sharp breath, fingers squeezing around Jaster's-yes, those romance novels they'd read to learn written Mando'a had certainly taught them a thing or two about Mando culture-Jaster felt his smile widen. "'Lek," he murmured against the thin barrier of skin protecting the veins and tendons in Obi-Wan's wrist.

"You've known me barely a day," Obi-Wan hissed, something almost afraid in their voice. But they didn't, Jaster noted, make any attempt to pull their hand away.

"I'm a very good judge of character," Jaster replied drily, because he was. (Excepting, perhaps, Montross. Although, he couldn't say when his former second had decided to betray him, and it wasn't like he had been watching for any such tells from the man.) "I knew Jango for less than three hours when I decided to adopt him."

Obi-Wan was silent for a moment, then they said, "Let's focus on getting those chips out of the clones' heads, and finding a way to nullify the contract with the Republic. Those are the important things, right now."

"Of course," Jaster agreed, and kissed the inside of Obi-Wan's wrist again, keeping his lips pressed to the jedi's pulse just long enough to feel it racing. Then he lowered their joined hands back to rest over his chest. "Get some sleep, Ob'ika."

Obi-Wan huffed, but didn't argue.

Jaster smiled as he closed his eyes; no, he hadn't known Obi-Wan long, but one of his ramikade had, and Vhonte clearly liked the jedi, despite the fraught history between their peoples. And Jaster had seen plenty to get Obi-Wan's measure: The easy way they'd interacted with all of the clones, no matter their age; their reaction to learning about the Kaminiise murdering the clones; and that they had defended Jango from Tyranus, when the dar'jetii had aimed at him, despite that they clearly didn't get along.

He already knew he could trust Obi-Wan with his clan; that would always be the most important thing to him.

(Well, his clan getting along with any partner he might pick was also important, and he knew it would take time before Jango-and Boba, likely-would be able to have a civil conversation with Obi-Wan, but the rest of his bu'ade already adored the jedi. Which, yes, was partially because they'd been trained to like jedi, by all accounts, but even the most standoffish of the adult clones had seemed to warm up to Obi-Wan after watching them with their vode.)

But Obi-Wan was correct, their focus needed to be on the clones' futures. Their own future-be it as just friends, or riduure-could wait.

Part 2/2

Chapters One Two Three Four Five Six Seven Eight Nine Ten   Glossary