Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

His door slid shut behind him with the familiar hiss and click as it cut him off from the rest of the temple. The sound seemed to sap him of his strength and he found himself stumbling the last few steps to the couch, sinking into it’s old, worn cushions.

Force. Force. How had they gotten here? How had this happened?

He knew that justice wasn’t perfect; that their Republic, for all that it was good, was not without fail. But never before had it been so very clear, so very sharply defined.

There was a bitter taste in the back of his mouth, sharp and ugly. Anger. He was angry.

Angry at the council. At Tarkin. At Judicial. At himself. Even angry at Ahsoka.

She was innocent, he believed it with everything inside him, but there was still a part of him that was angry, no matter how unfair that emotion was.

He couldn’t ignore the fact that it wasn’t only the evidence that had made Ahsoka look guilty. It had been everything she’d done after. If she’d stayed in custody, would they have been able to clear her name? Would people have been more willing to see all the places where there wasn’t enough evidence if they had not been given extra cause to doubt her?

Or would they still be here, in this moment, with a death sentence only days from being executed.

He took in a deep breath, holding in the anger for a long moment, accepting it, acknowledging what had caused those emotions and the futility of it. Then he let it go, breathing out and expelling the anger as he did.

It would do him no good, clouding his thoughts and hindering his ability to think clearly. And he needed to think clearly if he was going to figure out what to do to buy them time.

He was not sure, anymore, what was good.

If he could not depend on the law, on the courts, then what could he depend on? What if he truly was biased, his eyes blinded to the truth of what Ahsoka had done? He knew it could happen, he knew that it was too easy for love to blind.

There was no evidence. Nothing at all to show that Ahsoka was innocent. But the only evidence to show she was guilty was circumstantial, and that had to mean something, did it not?

And they would be killing an innocent child.

There was a sour taste in his mouth at the thought that had been swirling in the back of his mind came to the forefront.

Something had to be done. Even if that meant that he... Even if it meant leaving his own good name behind.

He would have to do it alone. Anakin was being watched, but then that could be expected. Everyone knew how Anakin was, the risks he’d take for those he’d care about. The Jedi Council was well aware that Anakin could not be trusted to remain on the side, that he was prone to making rash decisions that the Council disapproved of.

But Obi-Wan… Obi-Wan had a reputation for being a stickler, a perfect Jedi.

It made no sense, truly. Because Obi-Wan had never been a perfect Jedi; and if he knew the laws and rules inside out, it was because it taught him how to best bend and evade the rules when he needed. Still, he supposed that when he did break the rules, at least these days, it was with a subtlety that was often overlooked.

The rash impulsiveness from his past, it seemed, had been forgotten.

He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, and his head in his hands. Knowing something needed to be done was not the same as knowing what to do.

He took a deep breath, sinking into a shallow meditation as he let his thoughts wander through the different paths he could follow.

Vague plans for breaking Ahsoka out came to a halt, a memory intruding sharp and clear. He jerked to his feet, moving quickly to the closet. There was a box there, and he turned it over, dumping everything onto the floor.

It was a mish-mash of evidence. He grimaced at the holo of Ventress’ head in a box, quickly nudging it away as he searched for what he’d been looking for.

A comm.

“Was it you?” Obi-Wan asked, not sure if he wanted the answer. Commander Cody and a small squad stood a few feet away, and he knew they were listening in. If it were anyone else, he’d have lowered his voice or not asked at all, but he trusted his men entirely… even if he didn’t trust the man who’d been their progenitor at all.

Fett’s smile curled up, almost playful. They had a temporary truce between them all, at least for as long as it took them to get off this death planet, and Fett seemed to be throughly enjoying himself. “Was what me, Obi-Wan? You’ll have to be more specific. Unlike you, I’m not a mind reader.”

He debated pointing out that Jedi did not actually read minds, but it felt like a pointless argument to make. “Ventress’ head.” He swallowed. “It was left at my door, in the temple.”

He could still remember arriving at his rooms, tired after several months on the front, to find a box with his name on it. He hadn’t thought anything about it, not then. Had assumed he’d simply ordered something from the quartermaster and forgotten about it.

It wouldn’t have been the first time.

But when he’d taken the box into his apartment… he shuddered at the memory. Asajj Ventress’ eyes staring up at him, wide and bleak with death.

Fett raised an eyebrow, closing the gap between them by leaning forward until he was in Obi-Wan’s space. “Now Obi-Wan, if I had a way into the Temple, don’t you think I’d have used it for something far more… dastardly.”

It was not, Obi-Wan noted, a denial. “I try never to assume with you, Fett.”

Behind him Cody cleared his throat meaningfully and Fett shifted back a little. Obi-Wan never knew, exactly, how to feel about these encounters.

Cody would—and had tried to—kill Fett. But when Fett asked for a temporary truce—and this was not the first, nor did Obi-Wan think it would be the last, time that Fett had done so—then Cody was often the first to encourage him to accept it. And while Cody never let Fett get too close… he also didn’t display the same almost rabid protectiveness that he did if it were anyone else.

It helped of course, that Fett wasn’t technically a Separatist, though Obi-Wan often found there was too much overlap with the number of jobs he’d taken for Dooku. Yet… for all the Bounty Hunters and Separatist underlings, Fett had the fewest clone deaths to his name.

He made up for it by having the most Jedi deaths credited to him, but after that first fight in the rain on Kamino, Fett had never even pretended to try to kill him.

“A wise choice,” Fett murmured, eyes dark and dangerous. “But if Ventress’ head was disconnected from her body, and it had been me, and it ended up on your doorstep… that would have some interesting implications.”

Obi-Wan swallowed, because those implications had been part of what had led Obi-Wan to suspecting Fett. Not many cultures included leaving the head of an enemy on a person’s doorstep. Mandalore did.

“It would. But since you’re not claiming it, then I suppose it doesn’t matter.”

Fett moved closer again, this time ignoring Cody’s low growl of disapproval. “If you say so, Obi-Wan.” Fett’s hand caught his own, the gauntlet cool against his skin, squeezing for just a moment before pulling away.

When Fett was gone, there was a comm pressed against his palm.

He picked up the comm, the small piece light in his hand. This was something he should have gotten rid of a long time ago. He had never used it, never even imagined a situation in which he would have need to use it.

But then, he had never imagined that he’d be in this situation either. Ahsoka’s life on the line, and Obi-Wan trapped behind the laws that upheld the Republic.

Corruption, he thought in faint disgust, was not something he’d ever thought he’d be guilty of. But even if it was for a good cause, subverting the law still seemed corrupt, was it not? Or perhaps standing back and doing nothing was the true corruption.

He clenched the comm in his hand, the metal cold where it bit into his skin. He knew, just knew, that there was something more going on. Something beneath the surface that he couldn’t see, someone manipulating and pulling the strings. Sometimes he thought he was getting close, but the moment of insight never came. If only things weren’t so murky, so dark.

He let that thought go. It was important, but it was not what he needed to focus on now.

It was almost too easy to turn the comm on, to find the only code that had been programmed into the comm and to put the call through. He waited, anxious and strangely unsure.

A deep voice, both familiar and not, echoed out of the comm. “Why, Obi-Wan, what an unexpected surprise.”

“Fett,” Obi-Wan responded, pleased when his voice came out easy and confident. “I’d like to come to an arrangement on a… business proposition.”

There was a short pause, followed by a small laugh. “A business proposition? I’m not sure that’s what I had in mind when I gave you that comm.”

Obi-Wan swallowed, because Fett had been making it more and more clear what he wanted from Obi-Wan. If it hadn’t been Ventress’ head on his doorstep, then it had been three padawans, completely untouched and dropped on the Negotiator when their Masters had been killed, love notes written on flimsi clenched in their hands. It was a macabre, ugly courtship. But Obi-Wan wasn’t fool enough to not recognize that it was, indeed, a courtship.

But they were at war, and if not rebuffing Fett’s courtship kept a few padawans alive longer? Then Fett could court him as much as he pleased.

“Are you saying no?” Obi-Wan asked.

Fett’s voice came back through the comm, sounding utterly amused. “Just to make sure we’re on the same page, you want to hire me?”

Obi-Wan didn’t even think twice before answering. “Yes.” There was no going back.

“All right,” Fett agreed easily. But then, Obi-Wan had been planning on that. “What is it you want to hire me to do?”

“I’d like to hire you to break into the detention center and kidnap Ahsoka Tano before her execution in a week.” The words came out in a rush, as though he was trying to ensure he didn’t change his own mind. “I want her kept safe and unharmed until I can get her name cleared, and if that proves impossible, then turned over to me once I deem it safe enough.” He didn’t know, yet, what he would do if he couldn’t get her name cleared with the extra time this would buy him, but he’d figure something out.

There was a long pause, and he imagined he could feel Fett’s consideration, his anticipation. “That’s pricey. I don’t imagine an upstanding Jedi like yourself would be able to afford my rates.”

Obi-Wan swallowed, clenching his hand. “No, I imagine not.”

Fett was his first option, not his only one. If Fett could not, would not, help him then Obi-Wan would simply have to do it himself.

“But you’re calling me anyways.”

Obi-Wan took a deep breath. “You haven’t named your price, yet.”

“I’ll do it,” Fett said finally. “We’ll discuss price when I turn your little Jedi over to you.”

A blank check.

Fett could demand whatever he pleased.

He closed his eyes, weighing the possible debts Fett could demand from him and then dismissing them against the price of Ahsoka’s life.

Hopefully he was right that Fett wanted his body more than he might want to use Obi-Wan to commit treason.

“Deal.”

He could hear Fett’s satisfaction. “You’ll hear from me in two days. Keep your former padawan out of my way.”

Obi-Wan nodded, relieved, even knowing Jango couldn’t see him. “Of course.” For the first time since Ahsoka’s verdict had been read out, Obi-Wan could almost breathe. “Thank you, Fett.”

Fett let out a low laugh, the sort that always hit Obi-Wan low in the gut, no matter how much Obi-Wan wished it wouldn’t. “Keep this comm on you. I’ll be in touch.”

The line went dead and Obi-Wan settled back on his heels. That was that. He stared down at the emptied box, feeling a moment of unease.

The holo he’d taken of Ventress’ head, the data chips where he’d jotted down his interactions with Fett, the messages that the surviving Padawans had given him, the small boot knife Fett had given him that Obi-Wan had never used, the gifts from Boba that Obi-Wan hadn’t wanted to think about.

It painted a picture of what Fett wanted—it wasn’t just his body.

He put it all back in the box and shoved it into the closet.

Some things didn’t need thinking about, and he’d already made the deal, there was no reason to keep worrying about it.

He had more important things to focus on, including trying to clear Ahsoka’s name.

The first message he sent was to Bail, asking if there was a way to get an injunction to stall Ahsoka’s execution. He didn’t think there was a way, but it wouldn’t hurt if there was a paper trail showing that he—and thus Anakin and the rest of the Jedi—still hoped there was a way to handle this in a legal way.

Bail responded almost immediately, assuring him that he was doing what he could, and that he would let Obi-Wan know how things were proceeding.

Sometimes he wondered how someone as genuinely good as Bail was could end up a Senator. But then some of the Senators had to be genuinely good.

He moved back to the couch, pulling out actual flimsi so he could start working through the crime—both the crime Ahsoka had been framed for, and the actual framing. He’d gone through the information over and over the past few days, it was an almost vain hope that actually writing it down, seeing it in flimsi and ink would help him see something he’d missed.

Anakin’s presence, coming towards him fast and steady, pulled him from his concentration. A tumultuous storm in the Force, Anakin was a mix of rage and fear that was likely giving every Jedi in the temple a mild headache.

Obi-Wan—who still had a bond with him—was going to need some pain meds soon if Anakin didn’t calm down.

Anakin ended his apartment in a near rage. “How could you let this happen!?”

Obi-Wan didn’t move from his seat, meeting Anakin’s eyes calmly. “Anakin, please calm down.”

Anakin ignored him, pacing back and forth, voice rising. “You just sat there. You let them throw Ahsoka out. And now she’s going to die! This is your fault.” His voice was almost a yell now, hands clenched at his side, and the Force almost dark around him. “You did this! You—“

Something in Obi-Wan snapped, and he stood, letting his own Force presence flare. It was not the storm that Anakin’s was. It had none of the rage, none of the sickening fear—Obi-Wan had taken the time to examine those emotions and let them go so they couldn’t poison him. “Sit down, Anakin.”

Anakin came to a shocked halt, blinking at him in surprise, before his rage seemed to seep from him. He slumped onto the couch. “Why didn’t you do anything?” It still came out angry, but at least he was no longer yelling.

“I argued. Plo did too. But we aren’t all powerful, we were only two people. And we weren’t just fighting the Council. We were trying to fight the Senate itself. In the end we were outvoted.” He pushed out a deep breath, letting his Force presence wrap around Anakin’s trying to calm him further. “Now there isn’t anything we can do to change the past. But I have a plan that will get Ahsoka out of the detention center. But that’s only half of the problem. We need to figure out who framed her or she’ll just become a fugitive and helping her will become far more difficult.”

Anakin stared at him, mouth gaping unflatteringly as he put together what Obi-Wan had said. He jumped to his feet again, eyes bright and Force presence twisting into sharp hope. “We’re going to get her out? What’s the plan? When are we going? I knew you wouldn’t let this happen!”

Obi-Wan snorted, not bothering to hide his bitterness. “For some reason I don’t believe that last part. I imagine you didn’t yell at your precious Chancellor for not stopping this from happening.”

Anakin flushed, uncomfortable. “That’s different. He can’t just overturn the Judicial System.”

“And I can’t completely overturn the Council, the Senate, and the Judicial System,” Obi-Wan snapped back. “It would be nice if for once you actually gave me the same benefit of the doubt that you’re so willing to give to everyone else you care about.”

Anakin looked away, shoulders coming up defensively. “I am sorry. It’s just… you’re on the Council, and…”

“And you don’t get angry at Padme or the Chancellor when the Senate ignores them and makes stupid decisions, despite the fact that your Chancellor has far more power over the Senate then I’ll ever have over the Council.” He’d read through those Executive Powers, he knew how much power the Chancellor had. “And you clearly didn’t listen to the Chancellor’s speech before Ahsoka’s sentence was read.” Or if he had listened, he’d been willing to believe that the Chancellor ‘had his reasons’ or was ‘put in a difficult position’. The sort of defenses he never accepted from Obi-Wan. He shook his head, letting go of his own bitterness. “But I suppose that’s neither here nor there. We all have rules that we have to live by. Which is why we aren’t going to do anything to get Ahsoka out.”

Anakin spluttered. “I thought you said that we were…”

“I said I had a plan to get her out. But neither of us are going to be doing anything. The Jedi, Tarkin, everyone is going to be watching you, and to some extent me, to make sure we don’t do anything rash. Which is why we are going to focus on finding whoever is really behind this.”

He could see that Anakin wanted to argue, wanted to protest, but his earlier temper had faded enough that Anakin seemed unwilling to start yelling again when Obi-Wan had already called him out once.

“And Ahsoka?”

“I have managed to find someone no one would think to watch. Someone who will probably enjoy making the Republic look like fools, who agreed to, well, kidnap Ahsoka.”

“Kidnap?”

Obi-Wan shrugged, it was the best word for it, really. 

Anakin stared at him, clearly trying to put that together. “Who did you find?” He sounded a mix of suspicious and confused.

Obi-Wan didn’t want to answer that question. He really didn’t want to answer that question. “Jango Fett.”

Anakin’s mouth fell open in an entirely unflattering way. “Fett? You went to Jango Fett? The same Jango Fett that’s been working for Dooku and that’s managed to kill almost every Jedi that goes after him?”

Obi-Wan had an ugly taste in his mouth at the reminder. He knew all that, and he’d made the choice regardless. “Like I said, he won’t mind making the Republic look like fools.”

Anakin looked like he needed to reboot his brain for a moment, but finally he pulled it together. “How did you even get in contact with him? What makes you think Ahsoka will be safe with him?’

Obi-Wan shifted uneasily. Anakin was aware that he’d had a few odd encounters with Fett, but Obi-Wan had always done his best to hide the strange interest that Fett had with him. “He gave me a comlink.”

Anakin’s brows furrowed. “Why?”

Obi-Wan hesitated, deliberating. “I don’t know,” he lied, or mostly lied. He wasn’t entirely sure, after all, just mostly sure. He shook his head. “That’s not the important bit. Ahsoka is what’s important right now.”

“Do you really think he’ll do it?”

“If he doesn’t, we’ll have to.” Obi-Wan clenched his jaw. “It’s not my preference, because it will turn all three of us into fugitives, but it’s a back up plan.”

Once again, Anakin adopted the unflattering look of shock. “What? You’d… you’d do that?”

Obi-Wan sighed, giving Anakin a pained look. “If you were being unfairly executed I’d do the same for you. For one, I believe in protecting the innocent, but I suppose it needs saying that it is also because I care deeply for both of you.”

He had thought—hoped—that Anakin knew. He’d devoted so much of his life to Anakin and raising him, he’d done everything he could to demonstrate his love for Anakin in every action. But apparently Anakin wouldn’t be satisfied until he spelled it out.

Anakin was speechless and Obi-Wan took that as permission to move them forward. “Now, I’ve started going over what we know so far about the bombings and the aftermath. I need you to give me any information I might have missed. Whoever did this has to have made a mistake somewhere.”

Obi-Wan didn’t think he’d slept properly since the bombing, and it was wearing on him. Even using the Force to keep himself awake, it was getting harder to focus as he organized the evidence, scouring it for details he might have missed.

He needed sleep, his mind was dragging over the details. But there was a part of him that felt like if he did sleep, then he would lose valuable time he couldn’t afford to. He could feel that he was close, that all he needed was one final piece and it would all fall together.

What he did know was that there wasn’t enough evidence to truly convict Ahsoka. Clearly that hadn’t mattered though. He spared one moment to wish Tarkin ill, but he pushed it aside.

His comm chimed and Obi-Wan reached for it, brain foggy with exhaustion. He frowned as he grabbed it. His comm chimed again, except he was holding his comm and it wasn’t chiming.

A second later it hit him. He jerked to his feet, a burst of adrenaline racing through him as he scrambled to find the other comm. It chimed a third time before he got to it, accepting the call. “Kenobi,” he answered, anticipation running high.

“I believe I have something you wanted.” Fett sounded smug, and despite the fact that Obi-Wan had been expecting it, he still found himself surprised. How in the Galaxy had Fett already managed to get to Ahsoka and get her out? He had to have already been on Coruscant, and must have already had a plan on how to infiltrate the detention center—which was far from comforting, but Obi-Wan couldn’t imagine that even Fett could manage an infiltration like that with so little time to prepare. Still, it was remarkable. And a little terrifying. But then, that had been why he’d reached out to Fett in the first place.

Back at the table Anakin surged to his feet, crossing the small space between them and grabbing the comm from his hand. “You got Ahsoka out?”

Almost as though in answer to the question there was a banging on the door to Obi-Wan’s rooms. “Master Kenobi!”

Mace. There were few reasons why Mace would be at his door, the Force agitated and worried around him. Obi-Wan had the feeling that he knew exactly what had brought his friend here.

He pulled the comm back from Anakin. “Master Windu is here, likely about Ahsoka. I’ll comm you back.”

He cut the connection before Fett could respond, moving to the door as sedately as he could. He was completely innocent and he focused on projecting that into the Force. “Mace?” He pitched his voice for what he hoped was a reasonable level of confusion. “What are you doing here?”

Mace’s expression was grim. “Do you know where Skywalker is?”

Obi-Wan blinked, but then it hit him. Of course Anakin was a prime suspect if Ahsoka had escaped. He moved to the side, turning a little so that Mace could see Anakin still standing by the table. “He’s been with me, we’re going through the evidence again to see if we can find who’s really behind the bombing. Senator Organa is trying to get an injunction filed, and it will help if we can provide reasonable doubt.”

Mace sighed, shoulders slumping a little in obvious relief. “I don’t suppose you’ve found anything?”

Obi-Wan shook his head. “Not yet.”

Mace nodded, and Obi-Wan could see the regret in his eyes. He hadn’t wanted any of this to happen either. But as head of the Order, the weight of the Senate fell even harder on his shoulders. “At least it gives Skywalker an alibi. Nonetheless, Tarkin will undoubtedly want to question both of you.”

“What for?” Anakin asked, voice sharp and angry as he moved to Obi-Wan’s side. The glare he was giving Mace was sharper than a vibroblade and felt just as deadly.

“Someone infiltrated the detention center, knocked Tano out, and made off with her.”

“Someone’s taken Ahsoka?” Despite knowing it was Fett, it still sent a hint of fear down his back. Fett was dangerous, and even having hired him, part of Obi-Wan was terrified of what Fett might do if he decided to renege on their deal. “Who? When was this? What are we doing about it?”

“We don’t know.” Mace seemed infuriated. “Tarkin was the one who reached out to us and he claims that it’s outside of our jurisdiction and that we’re not to be involved in the investigation beyond being potential suspects.” He waved to Anakin. “Hence bringing Skywalker and you in. Tarkin believes that you might be involved.”

He felt a small twist of unease at that, because he was involved. Not that there was anything that could link him to it.

“Why would Tarkin think that we’re involved?”

That gained him an almost amused snort. “Have you met your padawan? Because Tarkin has.”

Well, Obi-Wan couldn’t argue that.

“General Kenobi?” Fett’s voice froze Obi-Wan where he stood before common sense returned to him, of course it wasn’t Fett, not here in the Temple. He turned to see not Fett, but Cody.

“Commander Cody, how can I help you?”

Cody removed his helmet and handed him a datapad. “Rex and I got your message asking us if were willing to keep looking. I reached out to Commander Fox, since he has… access to things we don’t. We think we found something that would indicate someone else was involved in the bombing.”

A surge of hope ran through him. He hadn’t asked Cody to keep looking, the fact that he and Rex had done so on their own initiative warmed his heart, even as he cursed himself for not having actually thought of it. He skimmed through the information that Fox had found for them. He frowned, going back to the top and reading through it again.

It was the missing piece.

The nano-droids were considered a controlled substance, and Obi-Wan had wondered just how they’d been purchased. Someone had gone through the Senate using a Master Jedi’s codes.

And not just any Master Jedi. “Give me one moment,” he told Mace, Cody, and Anakin. He returned to the table, looking through the information and letting it all fall into place.

He felt a smile cross his face. The answer pained him, but it would also free Ahsoka. He returned to the door where the other three were all giving him questioning glances. “I believe we have one quick stop before we take ourselves to Tarkin to prove we had nothing to do with this whole venture.”

There was an ugly twist of betrayal low in his gut as he rang the bell for the quarters that Luminara shared with her padawan. Barriss was the one who answered the door, face guileless and projecting innocence. “Oh, Barriss, just the person I was looking for. You’re good friends with Ahsoka, aren’t you?”

“Yes, of course.” She stepped out into the hallway. “Is this about the bombing? The trial?”

Obi-Wan couldn’t imagine how anyone who claimed to be a friend could simply stand back as their friend was sentenced to death for a crime they themselves had committed. “It is yes. I was just hoping that you could explain to me how a friend would frame Ahsoka for the bombings that you orchestrated.”

The shock that crossed Barriss’ face looked genuine, but her shields faltered just enough that Obi-Wan could feel the smaller twinge of guilt. It was enough, though, and from the small intake of breath from Mace it meant he’d felt it too.

Anakin jerked forward, rage sharp and sudden. “You traitor!”

Obi-Wan caught Anakin, keeping him from attacking.

“How did you know?” Barriss’ voice was small, almost afraid.

Obi-Wan waved the datapad that Cody had given him. “I didn’t, actually. It was simply an educated guess. Luminara’s access codes were used to look into the nano-bites. Understandable, of course, since Luminara is often assigned to research different threats to the Republic.” His face twisted in displeasure, because that information had been conveniently hidden from the investigation material he’d been working with.

Beside him he could feel Cody shifting, the sense of his Commander shifting from the defensive to a familiar one, posed on the edge of action.

“After that it was easy to see that you had inserted yourself into the investigation several times, in ways that always looked like you were trying to help, but in the end always led to things getting worse for Ahsoka. I admit, you did a good job covering your bases. Nothing that would stand up to deep scrutiny, of course. But you didn’t need to withstand deep scrutiny, not when you managed to so beautifully frame Ahsoka.”

Tarkin had jumped on the arrest, hadn’t even looked further, shutting down any further investigation.

Whoever had put Tarkin in charge of the military tribunal was either corrupt or a fool. But then, Obi-Wan knew who had given Tarkin that position; he had never liked the Chancellor anyways.

For a brief moment Barriss stared at him, and he could feel her calculating her odds. He wasn’t surprised when she reached for her lightsaber, though he was disappointed. “She wasn’t supposed to be executed. I just wanted her kicked out of the Order. I was trying to save her. The Jedi are corrupt.” Her voice was rising passionately. “They’ve turned into the very thing they profess to fight against!”

“Please don’t do this Barriss.”

She didn’t respond, lunging forward as she ignited her lightsaber.

Obi-Wan stepped back and to the side, not bothering to reach for his own lightsaber. A single stun bolt hit her straight in the chest. She stumbled, falling with a shocked, confused look on her face. Cody had always had his back, and now was no different.

He stepped forward, twisting her lightsaber out of her hand, and pulling her back to her feet. He glanced at Cody. “I don’t suppose you happen to have a pair of cuffs on you?”

Cody handed him a pair of cuffs. “Anything for you, General.”

He sent Cody a small, sad smile and then looked to where Mace and Anakin were standing behind him. “You got that recorded, correct?”

Anakin nodded, his face still twisted in rage as he looked at Barriss with disgust. “Every traitorous word.”

Mace looked tired. Obi-Wan wished he could have found the guilty culprit outside of the Jedi. No one wanted to know they’d been turned on by their own. “I’ll send a message to the Tribunal, let them know we’ve found their culprit.”

He turned his attention back to Barriss who was shaking her head, eyes dazed. “Don’t worry,” Obi-Wan told her. “Cody only hit you with a light stun, your ears will stop ringing soon enough.”

Tarkin was one of those people that made Obi-Wan want to reconsider his views on strong negative emotions.

“Perhaps Tano was innocent.” The sneer on his face at the word innocent made it clear he still doubted it. “She has now, however, broken the law twice when she escaped from the detention center, which has resulted in the injury of several clones both times.”

Obi-Wan felt something in him relax at the assurance that none of the clones had been killed this time. Fett had a history of trying to avoid killing clones, and Obi-Wan could only be grateful that that pattern had continued. He didn’t know how Jango had managed it. The man was competent and terrifying.

“Then at best she should be charged for evading justice, which is not a crime worthy of a death sentence, and given that she was wrongly accused, a crime that any good lawyer would get dismissed. And from what recordings we have it is readily apparent that Ahsoka did not, in fact, escape this second time. Rather that she was forcibly taken.” It had taken more effort than it should have to get Tarkin to show them Ahsoka’s ‘escape attempt’, but they’d finally prevailed. “Something that would not have happened had you not told the entire galaxy that she was guilty of bombing the Jedi Temple despite the lack of solid evidence.”

For a moment Tarkin looked genuinely confused. “And how did you come to that conclusion?”

Obi-Wan raised an eyebrow, using his most condescending expression. It was far too easy to pull up when faced with Tarkin. “According to the recordings you just showed us, Jango Fett—a man we know to have taken several jobs for Count Dooku—broke into the detention center and kidnapped someone accused of turning traitor to the Jedi and the Republic.” He turned to Mace. “Master Windu, based off that information what conclusion would you draw?”

Mace gave Tarkin and the men around him his most imposing glare. “That Count Dooku believes he has found an ally. When he discovers that he has not, he’ll likely decide to try and create an ally through crueler means.”

The thought was chilling.

“Which is why,” Obi-Wan added, “Anakin and I are leaving now to do our best to find Ahsoka before she gets to ensure that she doesn’t get turned over to the Count.”

Tarkin glared at him. “Skywalker still needs to be questioned in regards to his involvement with both of Tano’s escapes.”

Obi-Wan didn’t even bother to hide his incredulity. “Are you accusing General Skywalker of working with Fett?”

Tarkin wouldn’t budge. No doubt he felt slighted and was eager to exert his power.

Obi-Wan clenched his jaw. “Fine, waste your time questioning him. I, however, am leaving in order to do whatever is necessary to ensure Ahsoka’s well-being.” He paused. “Or perhaps you would like to also accuse me of working with a renowned Jedi Killer?” There was some irony in the fact that if Tarkina actually did ask, then Obi-Wan would be forced to answer, and Mace would undoubtedly hear the lie. 

But all Tarkin did was scowl at him, clearly annoyed, but having no real reason to hold him.

Obi-Wan turned to Anakin. “Make sure they clear her name completely. I’ll find her and bring her back.”

Anakin nodded, gratitude bright in his eyes, and grabbed his arm in a firm grip. “I will.”

Mace rested a hand on his shoulder. “I’ll have a few teams start looking for her as well. Let me know if you find anything.”

Obi-Wan nodded, fully planning on not telling Mace anything.

He made his way out of the judiciary center and toward one of the speeders they’d brought with them. He pulled out the second comm, choosing Fett’s comm codes again.

Fett answered almost immediately, and his tone was brusque. “Level two thousand and ninety. East quadrant. You should find my ship easily enough.” There was a short pause. “And Obi-Wan? Come alone.”

And with that, the comm cut out.

Well then, it was time to go find Fett and his missing grandpadawan.

And hope that whatever price Fett planned on having him pay was something Obi-Wan could recover from.

Chapter Text

Fett was right in that he found Slave 1 easily enough. Level two thousand and ninety was far enough down that no one with any self-preservation was wandering around. And, in this particular quadrant it seemed that most of those with no self-preservation had better places to be.

There was nothing worth coming down here for, especially now as night was starting to fall.

Somehow in the eternally bustling Coruscant, Fett had found one of the rare spots of peace. Well, relative peace, at least. It was Coruscant.

He parked the speeder he’d taken and moved slowly towards the ship, reaching out with the Force in search of traps.

There didn’t appear to be any—in truth, he hadn’t expected there to be any—and after a moment he knocked on the hull of the ship.

Almost immediately the ship opened and the landing ramp extended. He felt a twist of uneasiness, despite knowing he was expected, the speed within which he was being let in still made him feel as though he were walking into a trap.

But then, there were a great number of things that felt like a trap with Fett was concerned.

He waited, but neither of the Fett’s made an appearance. He made a face at that; there was a part of him that had, naively, hoped they could make all their deals without Obi-Wan having to actually enter Fett’s ship. But needs must.

He made his way up the landing ramp, keeping his unease down where it wouldn’t be visible on his face.

Boba Fett was sitting to the side of the ship, just out of sight. The instant Obi-Wan had fully entered, he hit the button to close the landing ramp back up.

Once again, the disquieting sensation of being trapped echoed around him, but he refused to act on it. He’d made a deal.

Ahsoka for… well, for whatever Fett decided to demand. What had he been thinking? There had to have been a better plan than this. There had to have been.

He turned to Boba, forcing an easy smile. “Hello Boba.”

Boba gave him an excited, almost impish grin. “Hi Obi-Wan!”

“Is Ahsoka here?” he couldn’t sense her, but Fett fought Jedi on a regular basis, he no doubt had some way to hold a Jedi captive.

The thought was not a reassuring one.

But then, he didn’t think there was anything about Fett that was reassuring.

Boba nodded, cheerful enough. “Dad’s back with her.” He started walking towards the back of the ship, clearly expecting Obi-Wan to follow him. Just as Boba had said, Jango was waiting outside a small cell, leaning against the wall with a datapad in his hand, apparently absorbed in whatever he was reading.

Obi-Wan ignored him, his attention on the cell and the figure laying unconscious inside of it. He moved to the bars, glaring at the lock. “Is she all right?”

If his voice was a little sharper than he’d intended, then it was only to be expected. He’d said that no harm was to come to her.

Fett snorted, finally looking up from his datapad. “You asked for her not to be harmed. She isn’t.” Obi-Wan gave him a sharp look. Fett sighed, as though incredibly hard done by. “She is however sedated. I didn’t want to have to deal with a Jedi padawan trying to tear apart my ship trying to ‘escape’.”

“I see.” He didn’t like the answer, especially since Fett had had no way of knowing just how long it would take for Obi-Wan to clear Ahsoka’s name. 

They’d gotten lucky that Fox had found the information they needed so quickly. But it could have taken several weeks, and he didn’t like the thought that Fett might have kept Ahsoka sedated for most of that time. 

He nodded his head toward the cell door and the lock keeping it closed. “May I?”

Fett was watching him in that same way he always seemed to. As though he was digging inside of Obi-Wan’s skin, trying to lay out Obi-Wan’s soul out for his own perusal.

It was an uncomfortable feeling. It always left Obi-Wan feeling strangely vulnerable, as though Fett might just be succeeding.

Finally, Fett nodded, moving to the door and pressing in a code so the door swung open.

Obi-Wan slid through the door, half-way expecting it to swing shut behind him.

Something of the thought must have shown in his body language because Fett chuckled, his amusement radiating through the Force. “Nervous, Obi-Wan?”

Obi-Wan glanced over his shoulder, sending Fett a glare. “It’s not every day I willingly enter the cell of one of the most dangerous Jedi Killers I know, Fett.”

Fett made a disappointed sound at that. “Only one of the most dangerous. I would hope at this point that I had taken the top spot.”

Obi-Wan didn’t deign to respond. In truth it was quite possible. Fett had killed more Jedi than Grievous, more than Dooku—or rather more than Dooku had personally, this war of his had killed hundreds—more than any other single person in this war.

He took Ahsoka’s wrist in his hand to check her pulse. Steady, but slow. Not unexpected if she’d been sedated.

Fett continued talking. “Of course, you should know better than to worry about the possibility of me killing you.”

“You could be playing the long game,” Obi-Wan responded absent-mindedly, his focus on Ahsoka as he tried to use the Force to speed the sedative through her system.

Fett just snorted, his feelings on the matter clear. Honestly, Obi-Wan didn’t actually think Fett was playing the long game.

At least not about this.

Ahsoka shifted, her presence in the Force growing distinct. “Ahsoka,” he called quietly. “Ahsoka.”

His grandpadawan stirred, slowly at first and then all at once. Her eyes flew open and she shut up into a sitting position, swaying alarmingly.

“Master Obi-Wan!” She caught his arm to support herself. “I was in… and then there was… and they were…” She shuddered, her rush of incomplete sentences drawing to a halt as she took a deep breath.

Obi-Wan pulled her closer, wrapping her in a physical hug even as he wrapped the Force around her. “Everything’s fine, Ahsoka. Are you all right?”

Ahsoka clung to him for a moment, her mortals rubbing against his cheek as she nodded. She was shaking still, but it was fading slowly. She pulled back, taking another deep breath as she took in their surroundings.

She froze. “Master Obi-Wan, why are we in a cell? And why are the Fetts watching us?”

Obi-Wan couldn’t quite help but rub at his beard, feeling a mix of embarrassed and ashamed.

“I’m afraid that’s my fault. Anakin and I were being watched.” He took a deep breath. “We needed time to prove your innocence, and Judicial wasn’t giving it to us. That meant getting… creative. It would have been difficult for either Anakin or I to extract you from the detention center. I may have decided to outsource that particular part of the equation.”

He regretted it, now. Not that he had chosen to save Ahsoka, he couldn’t regret that. But that he had acted so quickly, so rashly. He was not an impulsive padawan any longer, and yet from his behavior the past few days, one would think the exact opposite.

He should have trusted in all of those who cared for Ahsoka to find a way to solve this problem. He would have saved Ahsoka with the information that Cody and Rex had gone to Fox to find. There had been no need to ensure Ahsoka’s escape.

But the past was the past, and he’d made his choice. He would live with it.

Ahsoka stared at him, her eyes wide with shock and confusion. “You hired Jango Fett to kidnap me?”

Obi-Wan managed a small smile, but it was weak and he knew it. Ahsoka knew even less than Anakin did about Fett’s strange interest in him. “Well, yes. On the bright side, we’ve also used the opportunity to get your name cleared.” He did not mention that it could have happened even without this. Ahsoka would either realize that or not, but he would not bring attention to it. “Or we started the process, at least,” he clarified. “Mace and Anakin should let us know soon enough if they were successful. But given that we found the person who was really behind it and they confessed to framing you, we should be hearing from them soon.”

“Who?” Ahsoka looked tense, as though she already knew that she wouldn’t like the answer.

Obi-Wan met her gaze, keeping his own calm. “I’m sorry Ahsoka,” he said quietly. “It was Barriss.”

The Force flared with shock, pain, denial. “No. No. She wouldn’t.”

“I’m sorry,” Obi-Wan repeated.

He could feel Ahsoka’s emotions in the Force, sharp and tumultuous as she tried to make sense of what Obi-Wan had told her.

She curled in on herself and Obi-Wan rested a hand on her shoulder, trying to convey everything he couldn’t say.

After a long moment she straightened, a bleak look in her eyes.

It hurt to see it. This betrayal had stolen something from her that even the war hadn’t managed to.

Trust.

He gave her shoulder a gentle squeeze and then stood up, helping her to stand up with him.

A small sound from behind him reminded Obi-Wan that they had an audience. He turned to the entrance of the cell to see that Fett was leaning against the wall, watching him with intent eyes.

“I suppose we need to discuss payment?” he said slowly, keeping his face calm and composed, trying not to think about what, exactly, Fett might demand from him.

Fett smirked. “I suppose we must.” He made a show of checking his chrono. “Though I see no need to hurry. It’d be best for her not to return until her name is fully cleared, wouldn’t you agree?”

Obi-Wan raised an eyebrow that. Not sure if he was offended or not that Fett thought he’d be so slipshod so as to not have taken that into account.

“We’ll be staying out of sight in the lower levels until the situation has been fully cleared up.”

Fett’s smile was sharp, dangerous. “You’ll stay here while we… work out our deal.”

Obi-Wan felt a shiver run down his spine, not liking the way that sounded very much like an order. “I can’t imagine it will take that long for us to finalize our deal.” He gave his best negotiator smile, noting the way Fett’s eyes narrowed at the sight of it. “I would so hate to inconvenience you.”

Fett snorted. “It would be very inconvenient for me if someone caught sight of the two of you and realized that you had known exactly where to find me.”

Obi-Wan narrowed his eyes, stepping closer. “I’ll have you know that I’m entirely capable—“

Fett moved closer as well. “I’ve never doubted your capability.” There words were said low and easy. “But Obi-Wan?” His lips quirked up into a smile. “It wasn’t actually a request.”

Obi-Wan clenched his jaw. “Is that my payment to you?”

Fett scoffed. “You think staying a few days with me is in anyway equal to infiltrating Coruscant’s detention center and saving your grandpadawan?”

Obi-Wan wondered just how Fett would react if he said yes. “If it’s not my payment, then I truly don’t think it necessary…”

“And yet, you’ll stay regardless, won’t you?” Fett sounded smug, as though it was a foregone conclusion. “We have so much to talk about, after all. Discussions to have on just how you’ll repay me.”

“Master Obi-Wan?” Ahsoka sounded uneasy, questioning.

It was a reminder that he had more than himself to think about. “Fett has a point,” he forced out. He only just managed a smile as he turned to look at her over his shoulder.

Ahsoka stared at him, glance shifting from him to Fett who, Obi-Wan realized belatedly, was standing far too close. He’d gotten too involved in their argument to recognize just how close Fett had moved. “We’re going to stay here?”

Fett gave them both a shark smile at that. “Well, I wasn’t going to make you stay in the cell. But if you truly want to, of course I won’t stop you.”

Ahsoka glared at him; her temper, close to the edge as it was, flared. “I’m not your prisoner.”

Fett’s gaze shifted back to Obi-Wan. “No. No you’re not. Your dear Master Obi-Wan would take that as an excuse to renege on our deal, as I know he so dearly desires to.”

“I’m a man of my word,” Obi-Wan bit out. Though he couldn’t help but wonder if he’d want to remain one, when this was all said and done.

Fett didn’t bother responding, turning away. “If the cell doesn’t please you, little Jetii, you can stay in the spare room for the next few days.”

Ahsoka looked like she was genuinely considering the cell.

She was too much like both him and Anakin in that. Stubborn even when it was best not to be.

Obi-Wan had learned to temper that stubbornness, for the most part at least. Ahsoka would hopefully learn the same in time.

“It’s for the best, Ahsoka,” Obi-Wan said lowly. “It won’t be for long.”

Fett led them through his ship, small enough that it only took a moment to reach the spare cabin that, on second look, was less cabin and more a storage space that had been creatively redesigned.

There was most certainly not room for any more than one person.

Fett’s hand brushed over the back of his arm. “As I said, Obi-Wan, there are a few things we need to discuss.” Fett glanced at Ahsoka. “If you need anything, ask Boba. Your Grandmaster and I will be busy.”

Obi-Wan winced at the alarmed look that crossed Ahsoka’s face. He didn’t have an opportunity to reassure her, because Fett caught his arm and pulled him further down the hall.

“Was that necessary, Fett?” he asked, displeased. He had no idea how he was going to explain this to Ahsoka, and worse to Anakin, when Ahsoka inevitably told him all about what had happened.

Fett stopped short, spinning them both until Obi-Wan was pressed against the wall. “I have a name, Obi-Wan.” Fett’s breath was hot against his cheek. “We’ve known each other long enough; I really think it’s time you used it. Don’t you?”

Obi-Wan stayed still, his heart jumping in his chest, and he had to work to keep his breath even as he met Fett’s eyes. “Jango.”

He didn’t think he imagined the fine tremor that run through Fett’s body as his eyes darkened. “Isn’t that so much more civil?”

Obi-Wan raised an eyebrow at that, aiming for composure. “I’m not sure being pinned against the wall by a bounty hunter could be considered civil.”

Fett laughed at that, somehow pressing even closer. Obi-Wan couldn’t quite stop the shiver that passed through him, knew Fett noticed when Fett’s eyes darkened further. “Shame,” Fett said, voice low, almost a purr, really. “I’m enjoying myself.”

Obi-Wan met his gaze, gathering his courage. “I see you’re no longer beating around the bush.” He hesitated a moment, considering his options carefully before bringing his hands up, resting them on Fett’s chest. It would be an opportune position to push Fett away, but he didn’t do so. Instead he kept his hands there, soft, easy, a pretense at being almost willing.

Fett seemed entirely too pleased with it—though Obi-Wan had no doubt that Fett saw right through him—pressing into the touch. “Was I ever?” Fett asked. “I rather thought that I was being very obvious.” As though taking Obi-Wan’s own touch as permission, one of Fett’s hands came to his hip, the other coming to rest on the wall next to his head, pinning Obi-Wan in fully. “It’s why you commed me, isn’t it? You knew I wouldn’t refuse you.”

Obi-Wan hesitated. “Your terrifying competence may have had something to do with it as well.” Fett smiled at the compliment. “But yes, I suppose I hoped there was a very low chance of you refusing the job if I’d… read you right.” He paused, and it felt like every word had to be carefully considered. “But you still haven’t told me the price.”

Fett let out a quiet sigh, leaning forward a little bit, resting his nose just under Obi-Wan’s ear, his breath warm against Obi-Wan’s neck. Obi-Wan wasn’t sure if the feeling tight in his chest was desire or fear. “I want you.”

Fear, Obi-Wan decided, the emotion swelling in his chest.

Suddenly Fett pulled away, leaving Obi-Wan flat against the wall, suddenly cold. “I would prefer it be completely voluntary, cyare.”

Prefer. Clearly it wasn’t a requisite. The thought was terrifying.

Obi-Wan shuddered, the wall taking his weight as he stared at Fett. “Has anyone told you that you’re a little presumptuous?”

Fett just grinned, his hand coming to Obi-Wan’s wrist and gently pulling him along.

“Fett,” he started, not sure exactly what he wanted to say, but knowing that something needed to be said.

Fett stopped, turning back to him, eyes flashing. “My name, Obi-Wan.”

“Jango.” He sighed, suddenly exhausted. “I’m a Jedi.”

Fett scoffed. “Of course you are.” The words were agreement, but there was a laugh in Jango’s voice that made it seem like an inside joke.

“Fe—“ he cut himself off. “Jango.”

Fett didn’t immediately respond, instead pulling them into what took Obi-Wan only moments to categorize as Fett’s bedroom.

The door shut behind him with a distinct schnik. 

Obi-Wan’s breath caught, the Force trembling around him. Fett turned towards him, and there was no masking or hiding the predator beneath the slow, dangerous prowl forward.

Despite himself Obi-Wan found himself once again pressed against the wall, Fett boxing him in.

Fett moved closer, far too close. For a moment Obi-Wan thought Fett was going to close the distance entirely and kiss him. He didn’t, instead he stayed mere inches away, his breath hot against Obi-Wan’s lips, his gaze boring into Obi-Wan’s own. For a moment, Obi-Wan forgot how to breathe.

This time, the pulse in his chest was most definitely desire and he desperately wished it wasn’t. He shouldn’t want a Jedi Killer.

“Yes Obi-Wan?”

Obi-Wan blinked, dazed. “What?”

“You had something to say, didn’t you?” Fett murmured. “Protests, I assume. Perhaps your own idea of a worthy deal. Further assertions that you’re a Jetii.”

If he’d been about to say something, he’d forgotten it completely.

“Do you need to be this close?” All either of them had to do was lean forward a mere inch and they’d be kissing.

“Is there a problem with it?” Fett asked, and Obi-Wan couldn’t help the way his gaze darted down to Fett’s lips as Fett smirked.

What was wrong with him? Physical proximity was nothing Obi-Wan hadn’t dealt with before. Mind, never with Fett. For all that Fett had been circling him like prey this whole war, he’d never gotten quite so close.

But admitting he was uncomfortable felt starkly like a weakness. Like he would expose himself.

“Just seems unprofessional for a bounty hunter of your distinction to discuss payment this way,” Obi-Wan retorted. “Do you do this with all your clients or am I special?”

Ah. That last part had been unintentional. 

Fett laughed, and Obi-Wan was so close, too close. He could see the way the skin around Fett’s eyes crinkled with genuine amusement, could see the spark of delight in his eyes.

“Would you like me to tell you all the ways I find you special, Obi-Wan?” he asked, and his voice was low again, a purr to it.

“That would be unnecessary,” Obi-Wan said, a little too weakly for his tastes, and he forced himself to rally. “I’m quite certain in my own value, thank you.”

“Liar,” Fett said, but he was almost fond. “You might conceptually know that you’re of value, of use. You don’t believe, however, that you’re valuable.”

“Don’t tell me what I believe.”

Fett raised an eyebrow. Force, Obi-Wan couldn’t miss a single one of Fett’s expressions like this. “Am I wrong?”

Obi-Wan clenched his jaw. For Fett that was answer enough.

“We have a business discussion at hand, and I don’t think it has anything to do with my value.”

“On the contrary,” Fett said immediately. “It has everything to do with your value.” Somehow Fett got even closer, Obi-Wan thought he might be breathing Fett’s air at this point. His heart was beating, far faster than it was supposed to be, and he almost expected that Fett could feel it, could see just how this was affecting him, despite how badly Obi-Wan wanted to be entirely unaffected.

He kept his face neutral, maintaining that small level of control. “I don’t take your meaning.”

“It’s very simple, Obi-Wan. Is Tano’s life worth yours?”

Part of Obi-Wan had known it was coming, but he still found his breath catching and his heart beat rocketing. “You know it is,” he whispered, quietly pleading that Fett not do what Obi-Wan thought—had feared but not allowed himself to consider—he was going to do. “Though I could argue that I saved her life on my own. You bought me time I didn’t end up needing.”

Fett smirked. “Did you? How convenient was it that Fox, Fox who has no connection to Tano, and who quite frankly doesn’t like the Jedi, was willing to put in the work to save her. After Skywalker threatened him because of her.”

It took a moment for the words to compute. How… how had Fett even known that Fox had helped? That it was his information that had been so pivotal in securing Ahsoka’s innocence? “Fox is loyal to the Republic, not to you.” It had been a concern, of course it had been, when Fett had started taking jobs for the Separatists. But the clones had proven as willing to try to kill him as they had any other Separatist. 

“Of course he is,” Fett agreed.

The answer felt more like a taunt than an agreement.

“He is.”

Fett hummed an agreement, a taunt. “Just like your Commander is.”

Obi-Wan jerked back, accidentally smacking his head against the wall behind him. “Commander Cody is a good man. I would trust him with my life.”

“You should,” Fett said easily. His hand came up to the back of Obi-Wan’s head, soft and gentle as though he were searching for injuries, despite the fact that Obi-Wan had barely hurt himself. “Cody would kill anything that endangered you. It’s rather remarkable, really. There are a few others, Koon for one, Secura, even Windu, who’ve gained similar levels of loyalty… but it would terrify you to know how many clones would gladly let their Generals die.” Fett shook his head. “But I don’t think that’s the point of this discussion.”

There were far too many implications, far too many dangers, with everything Fett had said to let it go so easily. “No, what—“

“The question, Obi-Wan, is if your life is worth Tano’s.”

He was trembling, Obi-Wan realized, a mix of fear and horrified anticipation. “I told you,” he answered, keeping his voice even through sheer will power. “You know it is.”

“Then I think you know exactly what your payment is.” Fett tilted his head. “You always knew what your payment was going to be, didn’t you? The moment you made that call. The moment you stepped into my ship.”

“I hoped I was wrong,” he admitted. Was this a deal he could go through with? Could he really just… trade himself to Fett?

For Ahsoka? Of course he could.

“She goes free and you… keep me.” Spoken out loud made the deal seem far too final.

“Essentially, yes,” Fett agreed.

Obi-Wan swallowed. “And what… what if I break my word? What if I leave?”

Fett’s expression didn’t so much as change, but he leaned closer. “Then our courtship is going to take an unpleasant turn. I far prefer gifting you things than taking things away from you, cyare.”

Obi-Wan swallowed, his gut twisting unpleasantly at the implications.

“I won’t work with the Separatists.” He tilted his head, his forehead nearly brushing against Fett’s with the movement. “I might be giving myself to you, but I won’t work with them.”

Fett shrugged. “Done. No more jobs for the Separatists.”

Obi-Wan’s mouth fell open unflatteringly and he quickly tried to compose himself. “That easy?” he asked. Was this some joke.

“I would have stopped ages ago if you’d thought to ask.”

If he’d thought to ask. “And you couldn’t stop because it was wrong?” he snapped back.

“Right and wrong are subjective,” Fett said simply. “At least in this case. Many would argue that the Republic are the aggressors in this fight.”

“Count Dooku is a war criminal,” Obi-Wan snapped.

“And the Jedi are leading a slave army.”

“A slave army you created!”

Fett paused at that, some undefinable emotion playing across his face. “My wrongs don’t make the Jedi’s any less,” he said finally.

“We did it to protect them. Better us than generals who wouldn’t see them as human.”

“And better me than someone like Montross,” Fett pointed out, Obi-Wan didn’t know who Montross was, but the name made him shudder regardless. “If we measure our lives based on whether we’re the better option than the worse one then we end up doing all sorts of things we shouldn’t.”

“And if we allow worse options to happen because we want to keep our hands clean, then we allow all sorts of things we shouldn’t,” Obi-Wan retorted.

Fett shrugged. “And that’s why we’re both where we are, isn’t it?”

The response cut him off, leaving Obi-Wan to try to find a proper retort. Claiming it wasn’t the same thing felt inadequate.

He remembered Cody admitting, once, that Fett had tried to protect them from the worst. That the Alphas had told him horror stories of the days when decommissioning was a threat before Fett put a stop to it. That Fett had killed one of the trainers for starting a fighting ring. That Fett had tried to learn their names, though he didn’t always get them right. That he had discovered slave chips in their heads and had ordered them removed, had killed three different scientists before they’d finally realized he was serious.

Maybe Fett was the better option than whatever the alternative was.

But that didn’t make him right.

But then… that didn’t make Obi-Wan’s decision to become a General right either. But Force knew there hadn’t been a right option.

He slumped back against the wall.

“And the Jedi,” he said lowly. “Will you stop killing them?”

Fett watched him for a long moment. “If they’re not actively trying to kill me, then I’ll leave them be.”

Obi-Wan nodded, but he was unable to muster up a larger response. 

He was exhausted, he realized suddenly. He hadn’t slept in days, had spent almost all of it terrified out of his mind he wouldn’t be able to save Ahsoka, and now he’d just traded himself to Fett in return for his saving her life.

Jango had even saved her twice, if what he said about Fox was true. And the more he thought about it, the more sense it made, but he couldn’t be sure if that was because it really did make more sense or if it was the fact that he was too tired to find the details that would prove it false.

Now that the decisions had been made his exhaustion had caught up to him and he realized just how late it likely was.

Fett saw it immediately. “Let’s get you to bed,” Fett murmured, sounding soft and almost-sweet in a way that was so discordant to everything else about him. “You’ve been going too hard for too long.”

Obi-Wan glanced toward the bed, then back to Fett.

“We’ll discuss conditions tomorrow morning,” Fett said easily. “But if we ever have sex, it’ll be because you want it.”

If.

The word, for some reason, caught him off guard.

“If?” he asked.

Fett just blinked at him. “I have you. Why would I need anything more than what you’re willing to give me from that point?”

There was so much messed up with that declaration, even while it was comforting, but Obi-Wan decided he didn’t want to get into another debate with Fett.

Especially when the answer left him feeling distinctly relieved.

“Oh.” He nodded. “I… appreciate that.”

Fett snorted in open amusement. “Go to bed, Obi-Wan.”

There was a part of him that wanted to protest, purely because it was Fett telling him to do it. But he wasn’t an initiate rebelling against the authority of his creche masters.

“Ahsoka?”

“Won’t be harmed, you have my word.”

Obi-Wan hated that he trusted that. 

He’d blame it on the three going on four days of no sleep, and all the weeks and months before it of being slowly pushed far past his limit.

Fett watched with too careful eyes as Obi-Wan took off his robe, nodding to the desk when Obi-Wan couldn’t quite decide where to put it. Obi-Wan draped it over the nailed down chair. He hesitated for a long moment before also taking off his boots.

It felt… personal, to do so. As though he was claiming some level of comfort with the situation that he did not feel, but Obi-Wan had always prided himself on his ability to adapt. He’d adapt to this new situation too; he’d find some way to make it work to his advantage.

It took him another few moments to actually make the move into slipping into Fett’s bed. He scowled as he finally settled.

Of course the bed had the audacity to be comfortable, certainly more than his bed on the Negotiator, more so even, than his bed in the Temple.

But then, if he was a bounty hunter as successful as Fett, he’d have a comfortable bed.

“I’ll be back,” Fett informed him, before stepping out of the room, the door shutting closed behind him.

Back, Obi-Wan thought. Back as though joining Obi-Wan in bed. Unless of course Fett decided to just sit there and watch him sleep, which seemed like a far creepier alternative compared to sharing a bed.

His exhaustion was pressing down on him like a heavy blanket, and he was already drifting away by the time Fett returned.

He roused himself enough to watch as Fett slid into the bed behind him.

There was a long moment when they both seemed to be deciding how to handle the situation and then Fett was sliding close, sliding one arm around Obi-Wan’s waist, pulling Obi-Wan so that his back was pressed to Fett’s chest.

Obi-Wan stayed stiff, debating pulling away.

But Fett was warm, and he was tired.

He closed his eyes, and drifted off to the steady sound of Fett’s breathing.

Chapter Text

“I don’t understand,” Ahsoka whispered. She was hugging herself, staring at Obi-Wan with a mix of confusion and fear.

“I made a deal to free you, Ahsoka,” he said, keeping his voice soft. “It was a life for a life.”

Ahsoka swallowed hard, her montrals twitching with distress. “But… but he’s a Jedi Killer. He’ll kill you.”

“I don’t think so,” he said, glancing back to where Fett and Boba were sitting on the landing ramp of the ship, watching them with absolutely no shame or discretion. “Fett and I have an… understanding.”

Something crossed Ahsoka’s face at that. “Rex said…” she hesitated, shifting uneasily. “He said that you were the safest Jedi of all of us. That you were the reason Ventress disappeared. Because she hurt you.”

Obi-Wan glanced back toward Fett again. He had never told anyone but the council about Ventress’ head on his doorstep, and he had put together that of all Obi-Wan’s ‘enemies’ to end up on his doorstep that it had been Ventress because she had tortured him.

That Rex had known as much, that he had known anything at all when Obi-Wan hadn’t even told Cody… it was disquieting.

“That… that might have had something to do with Ventress’ disappearance, yes,” He finally agreed after far too long a silence.

It was on the tip of his tongue to tell Ahsoka to watch out for the clones, to be careful of their loyalties but… but if he told her that then she would tell Anakin, possibly the Council. Anakin would tell Senator Amidala and the council might very well tell the Chancellor if Anakin didn’t beat them to it. And then…

And then what would happen to the clones? They had no one who could protect them if even the Jedi started doubting them.

And Fett was going to be staying away from the Separatists now, he’d as good as promised it and Obi-Wan… Obi-Wan foolishly trusted that he would do exactly that.

If Fett weren’t involved in the war than there was no reason to fear the clones’ loyalties.

And… he couldn’t shake the deep-seated trust that he had in Cody and the rest of his men. They were loyal and good. To cast doubt on Cody and the 212^th. To cast doubt on the 501st or the 104^th or any of them… It was unthinkable.

They were good men down to their bones, no matter who their progenitor was.

“What do I tell everyone?” Ahsoka asked. “I can’t… I can’t tell them that you hired Fett to get me out.”

No, that would go over very poorly indeed. “Tell them the truth. That Fett had you and when it came down to it, my only option was to trade myself for you.”

She looked unhappy at that. “You’re a General, a Councillor.” She shook her head. “I’m… I’m just me.”

Obi-Wan took a step closer, resting a hand against her shoulder. “Ahsoka, you’re my grandpadawan, your life is valuable to me. Beyond that… Dead, you could do nothing to help anyone. I was reasonably certain in my own survival; perhaps there will be other ways for me to fight this war.”

Ahsoka looked as though she doubted that, glancing behind him to where the Fetts still sat. “Do you think he’ll let you?”

Obi-Wan forced himself not to scowl at that. He had no desire for it to appear as though he was scowling at her.

“Fett likely already knows that I am not the sort to sit idly by. If he doesn’t already expect me to do something, I’d be surprised.”

He thought he heard a muffled laugh from Boba, and he certainly felt Fett’s amusement, tinged with a fondness that Obi-Wan found unreasonably irritating.

And so very, very confusing. He did not know what he’d done to earn Fett’s attention, and with that the terrifying level of… of devotion that had come along with it.

“Skyguy isn’t going to be happy,” Ahsoka tried, clearly hoping that would convince Obi-Wan to change his mind.

It wasn’t his mind that needed changed, and he couldn’t see Fett changing his mind any time soon.

“Anakin will adjust.” He hoped, even if he also doubted it. “He has… other support.”

Ahsoka looked doubtful. She lowered her voice. “We’ll save you.”

Obi-Wan swallowed, a sense of foreboding falling over him and he lowered his voice to match hers. “It might be better if you didn’t.”

He didn’t think that Fett would kill either Anakin or Ahsoka, not with how dear they were to Obi-Wan. At least he hoped that was true. But he also didn’t know what Fett would do. He remembered Fett’s quiet threat—promise—that Fett would start taking, instead of giving.

That made him dangerous, made him unpredictable.

Ahsoka’s face went stubborn. “We will.”

Obi-Wan sighed, stepping forward and opening his arms for an embrace. Ahsoka stepped into it. “Take care of yourself, first.” He held her close. “Make it through this war, Ahsoka. Trust that I can take care of myself and that nothing will stop me from doing what I can to help you, no matter where I am. When the time comes we’ll see each other again.”

Ahsoka shuddered a little in his hold. “Promise?” The word came out as a whisper.

Obi-Wan swallowed, glancing back at Fett. He didn’t want to make promises he couldn’t keep. Fett tilted his head a little and he must have seen something in Obi-Wan’s face, something that told him just what Obi-Wan was asking for, because Fett nodded.

“I promise,” Obi-Wan answered quietly. “You haven’t seen the last of me, yet.”

Ahsoka looked like she didn’t believe him, but was still desperate to. It would have to be enough. Obi-Wan had nothing else to offer her.

He watched as she left, glancing back at him as she made it to the speeder that Obi-Wan had come in.

“All right.” Fett was right behind him and Obi-Wan only just managed to not react in surprise. It was rare that anyone made it into his personal space without him noticing. “I’ve spent enough time on this planet; time for us to leave.”

Obi-Wan let out a quiet sigh, but let Fett lead him back onto the ship. “You were close when I first commed you,” he noted. “I already knew it was a long shot that you’d be able to get Ahsoka out, but you did it within the first 48 hours.”

“Of course I was close.” Fett said it as though it was obvious. Obi-Wan hesitated on whether to pursue the point any further, a little too uncomfortable with the implications.

At this point he really shouldn’t be. He’d just traded himself to Fett. He was far past ignoring the facts. “You always were, weren’t you?” he asked quietly. “Close to me.”

“Except when I was on a job.”

Fett closed Slave I behind them and Obi-Wan followed Fett to the cockpit, taking the co-pilot’s chair and watching as Fett lifted off, avoiding the check-in points. It wasn’t hard necessarily, it was a big planet, after all, and Coruscant had no planetary shields. But even with that acknowledgment, Fett made it look easy as they left the atmosphere and made it to space. “Why?” Obi-Wan asked, as Fett set their course, ignoring the nav computer’s calculations to input his own. It was the question that had haunted him since the first time he’d realized what Fett was doing. That Fett was pursuing him. “Why me? Why all this? Everything over the past few years?”

Fett turned his head to look at Obi-Wan, his hands pausing on the controls of the ship. “I don’t think you’d understand.”

Obi-Wan choked on an incredulous laugh. “I wouldn’t understand?” He stared at Fett, wondering what could possibly be going on in his mind. “You’re… you’re in love with me—“ it felt strange to say it out loud. “—and I wouldn’t understand?”

Fett clenched his jaw for a moment and then he was pushing them into hyperspace. In the same movement he was moving until he had Obi-Wan pinned back in the chair.

Obi-Wan’s breath caught in his throat, and then Fett’s hand was coming to his neck, soft and gentle.

“Do you remember this moment?” Jango asked, voice quiet.

Fett had never touched him this way, Obi-Wan would certainly remember that.

“No,” Obi-Wan whispered. “We’ve never been here.”

Fett’s smile was soft. “Think about it, cyare.”

Obi-Wan was trying, but his mind was shorting out. Fett’s hand shifted a little, two fingers pressing against his pulse and it came to him, sharp and sudden.

Geonosis.

“All I did was check that you were alive,” he whispered. “That was all.”

“You did more than that,” Fett answered, simply.

“Barely,” Obi-Wan whispered. He’d helped Jango get to Boba, that was all. That… that’s wasn’t enough for this.

“I looked into you, after. I wanted to know who you were. And then I couldn’t stop looking. I couldn’t stop looking until I knew everything about you. It still wasn’t enough.” Fett let out a quiet sigh, and his hand drifted up Obi-Wan’s neck until he was cupping Obi-Wan’s cheek. “And now I have you.”

“And what if this is not enough?”

Fett shook his head. “None of that cyare,” Fett said, and there was a sharp note to his voice. “You are enough. I’ll help you finally see that.”

That hadn’t been what Obi-Wan meant. Fett had wanted him when he’d ben something unobtainable. Now that he’d actually obtained Obi-Wan, he would find that things were far less satisfying than he’d imagined.

He was being held to the impossible standard of Fett’s imagination of what he was.

“Fe—“ he cut himself off. “Jango. I… I’m going to disappoint you.”

Jango’s smile was soft, gentle. It wasn’t the man Obi-Wan expected, not after everything. And yet… His thoughts were cut off as Jango closed the distance, the hand on Obi-Wan’s cheek tilting his head so that Jango could kiss him.

It was the first time Jango had ever kissed him and it was so much softer than Obi-Wan would have ever guessed.

Despite himself he felt the tension in his shoulders loosening as Jango pressed him deeper into the chair.

“Buir, are we—“

The interruption jerked Obi-Wan out of the moment and he jumped, pushing Jango away.

Jango moved with the push easily and there was something bright in his eyes.

“Yes Boba?”

Boba was staring at them, mouth open in clear shock. “Oh, uh. Nothing.”

Obi-Wan coughed, clearing his throat. “Don’t mind me,” he managed. “I would hate to interrupt your normal patterns.”

Boba bit his lip, glancing towards Jango who nodded. 

“Where are we going, Buir?”

Fett’s gaze drifted to Obi-Wan. “I think Obi-Wan will be missing his men. I thought I would introduce him to his new battalion.” Fett smiled. “Alpha-17 has missed you.”

The words made Obi-Wan’s mind go blank and he stared at Fett in shock.

“Alpha-17 is dead,” he whispered, hoarsely. “Ventress…”

Fett’s gaze went rueful. “He regretted letting you think that.”

Alpha-17.

Alpha-17 was alive.

And was working with Fett.

“I don’t understand.”

“Don’t worry,” Jango moved back to his seat, settling in. “You’ll see.”

Jango remained tight-lipped about what was going on, which meant that Obi-Wan was caught off guard when four days later they exited hyperspace for the last time for Obi-Wan to find that they were in none other than the Mandalore sector.

“You didn’t think this was important enough to mention?” Obi-Wan asked pointedly.

Jango’s smile was more of a smirk than anything. “I think I’ll enjoy keeping you hanging on my every word.”

Obi-Wan sent a glare his direction. “And I suppose you’ll be dripping little bits of information here and there, whenever you please.”

“Whenever it becomes important,” Jango—no Fett, he reminded himself, Fett—agreed. He leaned forward. “I wouldn’t want you to get bored with me.”

Something told Obi-Wan that that wouldn’t be happening any time soon. He hadn’t realized, even four days ago, just how many secrets Fett was carrying.

It terrified him a little.

Alpha-17. Fett was working with Alpha-17. He’d thought Alpha-17 hated Fett. He’d certainly never heard Alpha-17 say so much as a kind word about him.

But then, Alpha-17 hadn’t ever said a kind word about Obi-Wan either, and yet Obi-Wan had considered Alpha-17 dear to him. While he’d never go so far to claim it as reciprocal, by the end he’d thought he’d gained Alpha-17’s respect.

“Why Mandalore?”

Fett leaned back in his chair. “I am a Mandalorian, cyare.”

“You’re telling me it’s mere homesickness?” Obi-Wan asked doubtfully.

“I never said that.”

Obi-Wan bit his lip, looking through the transparisteel to where Mandalore loomed large in front of them.

“Jango, why Mandalore?”

Fett didn’t answer, setting the rest of their course, not to Mandalore as Obi-Wan had expected, but instead veering off to one of the moons. Concordia.

Obi-Wan felt a twist of unease.

Concordia was where all of his past experience told him Death Watch would be, if Death Watch were anywhere.

But Death Watch had been, as far as he was aware, silent for decades. Silent since the last time Obi-Wan had been on Mandalore.

“I would have thought Concord Dawn,” he said lightly. “Given that’s where you’re from.”

Fett paused, turning to look at Obi-Wan, gaze speculative. “You looked into me.”

Obi-Wan just barely kept from rolling his eyes. “You were the progenitor for an army, Jango. Of course I looked into you.”

Fett’s smile was small, but still very much smug. “And what did you think, cyare?”

Obi-Wan shifted a little, no matter how many times Fett used the endearment, it still felt strange. “I thought you were terrifying.” He looked away. “I understood, better at least, why you hated us. But I could never quite figure out why you would work with Dooku.” He glanced towards Fett, trying to read his expressions.

“Dooku was narudar,” Fett said simply.

“Was?”

Fett gave him a fond look. “You said no more working with Separatists. That means no more Separatists.”

“And all I had to do was ask for it,” Obi-Wan said, unable to decipher even his own tone. He tapped his fingers on the arm rests of the chair. “What else do I only need to ask for and you’ll give me?”

Fett threw his head back, a genuinely delighted laugh filling the cockpit. “Already trying to see how to take advantage of me, Ob’ika?”

“Trying to figure out where the boundaries lie,” Obi-Wan defended. “I don’t think it’s me taking advantage of the situation.”

“Of course you are. You’d be a fool if you didn’t.” They were reaching Concordia now and Obi-Wan felt another twinge of discomfort.

But he had read Fett’s past.

“Is Dooku the only narudar?” Obi-Wan asked carefully. “Or are there… others?”

Fett’s gaze met his own.

“Ask what you mean, Obi-Wan,” Fett said quietly. “No need to miscommunicate out of some sense of hesitant propriety.”

Obi-Wan swallowed. “Are you working with Death Watch?”

A flash of disgust crossed Fett’s face, a hatred that ran deep and true. “There was a reason I sent Alpha-17 here, Obi-Wan. He’s always been very good at dealing with problems.”

Obi-Wan inhaled sharply. He knew exactly how Alpha-17 dealt with his problems. And it started with assassinations and escalated from there.

“You killed them.”

Jango shrugged. “I took care of Vizsla personally. And I ordered Alpha-17 to allow defectors to live, as well as any children. But otherwise… Yes.”

Obi-Wan nodded, gathering his thoughts. “And is that what you’ll do with all your political opponents?” He remembered what Jango said about stating his questions outright. “Is that what you’ll do with the New Mandalorians?”

Fett’s gaze darted to him again, something… Almost dangerous in his eyes.

“I know you love her, cyare.” 

Obi-Wan’s heart tripped in his chest. Fett did not specify who, but there really was no pretending that Obi-Wan didn’t understand exactly who Fett was referring to. Satine.

Would Obi-Wan’s love for her save Satine? Or condemn her? “I haven’t seen her in years,” Obi-Wan said quietly. “But… I did. Do.”

“She’s just as much a killer as I am,” Fett said quietly. There was a silent, unsaid, If you can love her, you can love me. “Just because she uses different weapons, doesn’t change what she’s done.”

Obi-Wan looked away. “Her power comes from her position. Turning her into a martyr would be unwise.”

Fett let out a quiet sigh, and Obi-Wan could sense his exhaustion with the topic. “We’ll discuss her fate when we come to it.”

It was not a reassuring answer, but, Obi-Wan thought, his own exhaustion suddenly heavy on him, it was not the worst answer either. It meant that Obi-Wan still had a chance to save her.

They were coming into a landing and Obi-Wan frowned as he observed the sprawl of compounds, surrounded by farmlands. He could see men working the fields, could recognize them easily from years of having worked along side them.

“How many men are there here?” he couldn’t help but ask.

“A few battalions worth,” Jango said easily. “Clones who didn’t want to fight, those that might have been decommissioned, those who decided they hated the Republic too much to pretend they didn’t.”

The wording caught Obi-Wan’s attention. “Too much to pretend,” he said slowly. “Are you suggesting that most of the clones hate the Republic, they just pretend differently?”

Fett snorted.

“I think you know the answer to that one, Cyare.” Fett shook his head. “And can you blame them?”

“And… The Jedi?”

Fett was quiet for a long moment, clearly weighing his words. Which, in and of itself, was a concerning sign. “Some hate the Jedi more than others. There are some Jedi who have… Warmed their battalions to them. I told you that. But there are just as many that have only reaffirmed what they already knew.”

“What you’d already taught them, you mean,” Obi-Wan retorted.

Jango shrugged, bringing the ship down for a landing along side several Republic ships. The clones hadn’t just disappeared themselves, they’d taken resources with them. It made sense, of course it did, but it still left Obi-Wan feeling uneasy.

But then in the eyes of the law, that was all the clones were as well. Resources.

The thought made him feel vaguely ill, the way it always did when he remembered what the Republic thought of the clones.

No, in that Jango was right, Obi-Wan couldn’t blame the clones for hating the Republic.

“Yes, what I taught them.”

Obi-Wan stared out the transparisteel, he could see several clones headed their way, and it took him only moments to recognize Alpha-17 at the front, the lethal prowl a starkly familiar one, despite how long it had been since Obi-Wan had seen him.

All of the clones could be lethal, but there had always been a touch more of it to Alpha-17. As though he simply couldn’t hide how dangerous he was, no matter how hard he might have tried.

Obi-Wan’s heart tugged. Alpha-17 was alive. Obi-Wan had mourned him, had still been mourning him. But here he was.

Jango had given Alpha-17 back to him.

“Come on,” Fett said quietly. “They’ll want to see you.”

“And here I thought you’d taught them to hate the Jedi.”

A hint of exasperation flashed across Fett’s eyes. “I hate the Jedi, cyare, and you quite successfully stole my heart. What makes you think our men would be any different?”

Our men.

What did that mean, in the grand scheme of things?

Obi-Wan stood, deciding that he didn’t want to know quite yet. There would be plenty of time to find answers, and… and he wanted to see Alpha-17 again.

He followed Fett out of the ship, watching as Boba, who’d been closer, went flying down the ramp, already yelling the names of some of the clones, those he was presumably closest with.

He went right past the group that was waiting just outside of Slave I.

Obi-Wan froze on the landing ramp. That wasn’t just Alpha-17. Behind Alpha were a mix of 212^th and 501st.

“Waxer?”

Waxer gave him a tired grin. “Sorry about just vanishing, General.” Vanishing. Obi-Wan had thought Waxer was dead. “But after Umbara… Boil didn’t think I’d get the medical help I needed. I’d never have left, otherwise.”

Obi-Wan’s gaze darted from him to Alpha-17, around the small group of men. There were a few men he didn’t recognize—no matter how hard he might try, he couldn’t know every single man in the battalion—but otherwise almost all of them were men he’d thought dead.

Fett’s hand came to rest on his lower back. “It’s alright, cyare. I know it’s a bit of a shock.”

“I’m so happy you’re all alive,” he whispered, he cleared his throat. “You’re all…” he struggled to find the right words, he suspected that asking them if they were here of their own free will was not the right way to go. “You’re all happy?”

“We are,” Waxer said quickly. “We’ll be happier when this war is over and we can bring the rest of us home, but things are good here.”

“A bit stale since we routed out the last of kyr’tsad,” Alpha-17 said, a hint of disagreement in his voice. “We’re all ready for the next phase.”

The next phase. Obi-Wan glanced at Fett, but there wasn’t so much as a hint in his gaze as to what that might mean. 

“I’ve waited almost two decades,” Fett said mildly, giving Alpha-17 a raised eyebrow. “You can wait a few months.”

“I don’t suppose you’ll be telling me what that means?” Obi-Wan asked, raising his eyebrow and using his starchest voice.

Fett raised his own eyebrow in turn. “Riduure share everything. So that’s your choice, Obi-Wan.”

Obi-Wan felt his mouth fall open. 

“You’re saying—“ he cut himself off, glancing towards the men. “We’ll talk about this later. For now I want to see to my men.”

“Of course, cyare.” Fett leaned forward, pressing a soft kiss to the corner of Obi-Wan’s mouth. It felt entirely innocent, when this whole situation was so very much not. “Alpha-17 can show you to our rooms once you’re done.”

Obi-Wan didn’t respond to that. Not sure he wanted to, but moved away from Fett and down the ramp to his men.

He greeted each of them, still caught in wonder that they were all alive.

“Let me show you around,” Alpha-17 said, once Obi-Wan had finished his rounds.

Obi-Wan nodded. “I want to see your home,” he said honestly. “I want to see what you’ve built.”

Alpha-17 gave him something that was as close to a smile as Alpha-17 ever got when he wasn’t in the middle of a fight. “You’ll be pleased, I think. We’ve made a great deal of progress in the last few years. We could probably host several more battalions without too much of a strain on our resources.”

Obi-Wan considered the farm land he had seen on the way down, trying to estimate what sort of yield that had managed.

“How did you convince the people here to keep silent about your presence?” he couldn’t help but ask. The Republic hadn’t had a so much as a hint of what was happening here, and Obi-Wan was almost certain that if they had the Council would have been ordered to take their own battalions and… he shuddered. He had no need to imagine what sort of orders the Senate would have given them.

He suspected it might have spelled the end of the GAR. He could not imagine his men ever turning on their brothers that way. And any General that had tried to enforce such orders would have almost certainly ended up dead.

“Mandalore hates the Republic,” Alpha-17 said simply. “And we were taking care of their Death Watch problem for them. It was a mutually beneficial arrangement.”

Obi-Wan considered it. It made sense, he supposed, but a part of him still felt certain that there was more he didn’t know. “Is that all?”

Alpha-17 gave him a scrutinizing look. “I’m not getting between you and Fett,” he said finally.

“I wasn’t asking you to,” Obi-Wan protested. “I just want to understand that nature of what I’m involved in.”

“You want to know what Fett is planning, possibly so you can stop him.”

Obi-Wan looked away. “I wouldn’t endanger you or the men,” he said finally. Because that was true, even if he couldn’t, wouldn’t, acknowledge that, yes, he wanted to ensure that Fett wasn’t endangering the Republic with his actions.

Wasn’t endangering the Jedi.

“I know,” Alpha-17 said simply. “Fett does too.”

And planned on using that to his advantage, Obi-Wan had no doubt.

“The Jedi?” he finally asked. “He hates them. You hate them. Will they be safe?”

“I’m not going to get between you and Fett,” Alpha-17 repeated. He hesitated, and then his gaze softened to something not-quite kind. “You’ve earned a great deal of loyalty, General. No one wants to hurt you.”

It wasn’t himself he was worried about, but the words still gave him some comfort. Perhaps that meant that they would not harm his family, either.

It was as comforting as he thought Alpha-17 could get.

He dropped the subject for the moment, allowing Alpha-17 to show him around. There were several compounds just as he’d seen from above. Each with it’s own communal areas and bunk rooms, each varying with the amount of privacy that was available. “Some brothers hate the thought of being alone,” Alpha-17 said when Obi-Wan asked. “While others revel in the chance for privacy. We’ve tried to set things up so that every vod that comes here will have what they need.” He raised an eyebrow. “If you were worried about you and Fett sleeping with a dozen men in the same room, you don’t need to. Fett and the kid have their privacy. Most riduure will.”

Obi-Wan didn’t know how to respond to that. “We haven’t said the riduurok,” he said finally. “I don’t know that we will.”

Alpha-17 snorted at that, the expression on his face saying just what he thought of that response.

“You will,” he said, as though it was simple fact. “You’re too practical to not. And he was our progenitor.”

“I don’t see what that has to do with it.” The memory of Cody explaining just what Fett had done for them, what protections he’d given them came back. Was that enough though? Human decency was the least he expected of a person.

“He’ll learn you,” Alpha-17 said easily. “The same way I learned you, or Cody learned you. He’ll learn how to give you everything you need, and he won’t even have to change himself to do it.”

Obi-Wan couldn’t help the spike of alarm he felt at that. “Did you have to change—“

Alpha-17 laughed, sharp and abrupt. “I won’t change myself for anyone, General. And you know that.” Obi-Wan supposed he did. And… And Alpha-17 wasn’t entirely wrong. He wasn’t in love with Alpha-17, nor was he in love with Cody. But he could easily see how in different worlds, different lives, where he could have been.

But they were different people, all three of them. Just because he cared for and respected Alpha and Cody didn’t mean the same would hold true for their progenitor.

Right?

He found, suddenly that he had very little desire to pursue this conversation any further.

He looked around, searching for an appropriate subject change. There were, thankfully, plenty of options.

Alpha-17 shrugged when he asked about how they’d set everything up. “Money, in part. Every credit that Fett earned on the cloning job came here, and most of the credits he’s earned since. We hired capable and discrete contractors for the first compound, and we’re engineered to be quick learners. The same went for the first crops. From there we’ve been able to handle things mostly ourselves.”

Obi-Wan nodded. He supposed that if any group of people could quickly learn how to be self-sufficient it would be the clones. They’d practically been trained to do so, and he didn’t hold the view that was all too common in the Republic that war was all his men were capable of.

It seemed too soon when Alpha-17 pulled out a chrono. “It’s been almost two hours,” he noted. “Fett will be expecting you soon.”

Obi-Wan considered, only for a moment, protesting. He was not at Fett’s beck and call.

Or at least, he would like to think he wasn’t. But there were questions he wanted answers to, and Alpha-17 wouldn’t be giving them to him, that much was clear.

He suspected that none of the men would give them to him.

“All right, then,” Obi-Wan said aiming for diplomatic, and clearly managing it well enough that Alpha-17 didn’t feel the need to comment on it.

Alpha-17 escorted him to what Obi-Wan recognized as the main compound, bringing him through halls that looked nearly identical to one another.

Obi-Wan still did his best to track their progress until they reached a door. Alpha-17’s hand came up to rap against the door. Then Fett was there, opening the door.

“He see everything?” Fett asked Alpha and Obi-Wan narrowed his eyes at being talked about. Fett’s gaze darted towards him and his lips twisted up into a wry smirk. “You wouldn’t know if you’d seen everything or not, cyare. You couldn’t answer the question even if I’d asked you.”

Obi-Wan resisted the urge to cross his arms in annoyance, because that was, unfortunately, a good point.

“He saw enough,” Alpha answered. “He wants to know your plans.”

“Thank you, Alpha,” Obi-Wan said, exasperated. “I can talk to Jango on my own.”

“You weren’t going to.”

Obi-Wan wasn’t sure whether that was true or not. He certainly wanted answers, but he’d also most definitely have been more subtle about it all. Which, yes, might have meant that he held his tongue for now in order to… ease Fett into being more comfortable.

“Thank you, Alpha,” Fett interrupted before Obi-Wan could determine whether or not he wanted to retort to the presumption. Fett, unlike Obi-Wan, seemed far more genuine. “I assumed he would.” He stepped back, gesturing for Obi-Wan to enter. “We’ll join the vod’e for dinner,” Fett told Alpha, and Obi-Wan felt another flash of irritation at the presumption of Fett deciding what he would do. Even if he could acknowledge that, yes, that would have been his choice.

Obi-Wan gave a nod goodbye to Alpha, who gave him an inscrutable look but nodded as well. He slipped past Fett into the room, looking around. It was a small set of rooms, a sofa set in the middle of the room, a closet alongside the wall, a door cracked open slightly that he saw led to the fresher, and two separate doors that he assumed led to Boba’s and Fett’s bedrooms. Fett’s and his bedroom, he supposed.

“I suppose it’d be difficult to fit a kitchen in every living space,” Obi-Wan said conversationally as Fett closed the door behind him.

“There are small communal kitchens for every dozen living spaces, as well as an industrial kitchen for each compound.” Fett stepped past him to the couch and sprawled out. Obi-Wan stayed where he was, observing him. 

Alpha’s certainty that Obi-Wan would say riduurok, that he would love Fett, niggled at him.

“Well,” Fett prompted him. “Are you going to ask, or hope I want to boast about my plans and I just tell you.”

“How likely is the latter?” Obi-Wan asked dryly. He moved forward, take the small sofa seat that put him across from Fett.

“Distinctly unlikely,” Fett said, that same wry smile on his face again. “I’m a patient man, Obi-Wan.”

Obi-Wan considered that, trying to decide on his plan of attack, what would give him the best chance at answers. He leaned forward. “If what happened to Ahsoka hadn’t happened, what would you have done about—“ he gestured with two fingers between the two of them, “—us.”

Fett leaned back in his seat, something contemplative in his eyes. “That depends.”

Obi-Wan resisted the urge to roll his eyes at what was a useless answer. “On what?”

“On your battalion.”

That was not the response Obi-Wan had expected. A chill ran down his back. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Fett’s fingers tapped against the fabric of the sofa, a slow, tap, tap that made Obi-Wan’s nerves flare.

“You remember Hardeen.”

Obi-Wan flinched. He had done the right thing. He had protected the Chancellor, he had followed orders, he had maintained the op sec that had likely kept him alive.

“I recall,” he said, unable to stop the twist of bitter that entered his voice. “My battalion were some of the few I thought understood my choices.”

“They understand op sec.” Fett waved his hand in dismissal. “I do too, for that matter. Which is why I stayed out of it when I realized just what was going on.”

Obi-Wan remembered the moment he and Mace had gone to pay Hardeen for services rendered and found his corpse utterly destroyed. They’d had to take a chance, then. Risking that whoever had killed Hardeen would stay silent when Obi-Wan-as-Hardeen was captured. And risking that whoever had killed Hardeen wouldn’t come after Obi-Wan as well.

“I suppose I should have realized you were the one who killed Hardeen.”

“Of course I did,” Fett said simply. “I thought he’d killed you.”

“What does this have to do with my battalion,” Obi-Wan asked, getting them back on track.

“Right on the heels of Zyggeria?” Fett shook his head. “Cody was this close—“ he held up his fingers, only a breadth of space between them, ”—to sedating you and delivering you to me himself.”

The chill from earlier returned. “He wouldn’t have done that.”

Fett raised an eyebrow. “Wouldn’t he have?”

Cody had been so worried, snapping that he was sick of the Chancellor ordering him away constantly. That if Obi-Wan wasn’t going to stay safe with them he should at least be with someone who would keep him safe.

Obi-Wan had thought it had been a remonstration against Anakin, who had been upset with Obi-Wan in the aftermath of Hardeen and who had said things that should likely not have been said, but whom the Chancellor and the Council kept ordering him on missions with.

“He wouldn’t have just given me to you,” he repeated.

Fett leaned forward, meeting his eyes. “To protect you?” he asked, waiting for Obi-Wan to deny it again. He shook his head, when Obi-Wan found himself hesitating from doing just that. “There’s almost nothing Cody wouldn’t have done. If Alpha-17 had still been your commander it would have happened.”

Alpha-17 had always been practical.

“If nothing more happened that would make my battalion just hand me over to you,” Obi-Wan pushed, deciding he would think about the rather disturbing thought of his men handing him over to someone considered an enemy of the Republic. “What would you have done?”

Fett didn’t answer immediately, lips pursed in thought that told Obi-Wan that Fett’s answer would be carefully worded to reveal as little as possible.

“I’d have waited until I had something I knew you’d want enough to consider it a fair trade,” Jango said slowly. “Or I’d have convinced the Republic to give you to me.”

Obi-Wan blinked, once, then twice as he tried to make sense of those words. “Why would the Republic give me to you?”

Fett smiled, sharp and a little unsettling. “Now Obi-Wan, that would be telling, and we haven’t even sworn riduurok yet.” Fett stood, stepping up to Obi-Wan’s chair, leaning down and gently brushing a kiss on Obi-Wan’s cheek. The gesture, Obi-Wan decided, was entirely incongruous with the sharp smile on his face that felt not at all gentle. “I’m sure you’ll figure it out yourself. You’ve always been brilliant.”

Chapter Text

The days passed almost unsettlingly quickly.

Obi-Wan had close to free reign of the many compounds and spent most of his time with the clones, often with either Waxer or Alpha-17, trying his best to ignore the looks they occasionally gave him as though they were just waiting for something.

He wasn’t sure what they were waiting for.

Wasn’t sure if he could give them whatever it was that they seemed to want from him.

And if he could, if it was something he’d want to give them.

Fett was right, to a point, Obi-Wan was, despite his occasionally foolish decisions—such as the one that had gotten him here—intelligent. And war had only helped sharpen his eye for strategy.

The compounds here were a perfect staging ground for a coup on Mandalore. There was a reason Death Watch had set up here, and it hadn’t just been the beskar mines. If Obi-Wan were to choose one of the moons as a staging ground, he would choose Concordia as well.

And if Mandalore was suddenly no longer pacifist, if Mandalore suddenly had an army—an army that had once belonged to the Republic‚ and it seemed that Jango was quite certain of the clone’s support… Then yes, the Republic would have given Jango just about whatever he pleased—including Obi-Wan—if it meant appeasing a Mandalore that was suddenly powerful again.

“You’re taking Mandalore,” Obi-Wan said finally, sitting on Jango’s—on their—bed as Jango slowly took off his armor.

“Am I?” Jango asked, voice almost musing, as though the thought had never occurred to him before. Obi-Wan waited, not willing to engage in Jango’s teasing game. After a long moment, Jango sighed. “Yes, I am.”

In the past few days Obi-Wan had had dozen of questions, but many of them, the why’s, the how’s, even the when’s were easy enough to guess with a little thought.

“I couldn’t stop you even if I tried,” Obi-Wan asked instead. “Could I?”

Jango paused, then slowly finished taking off his armor before moving so that he was sitting beside Obi-Wan on the bed. 

Obi-Wan was not surprised when Jango took his hand, lacing their fingers. Jango enjoyed touch, Obi-Wan was learning. At least whenever an opportunity presented itself, Jango was quick to take advantage of it.

Obi-Wan was adjusting to it far too quickly. Jango’s touch already familiar to him.

“You could kill me.” Obi-Wan startled at the answer, laid out with all practicality. “But then all you’d stop is me, not this. Even if you killed me, Alpha would just take control of the mission. And if he was gone, someone else.” Jango’s thumb brushed against Obi-Wan’s skin, the touch soft and smooth. “The question you should be asking is if this is something you should be stopping.”

“What sort of question is that?”

“An important one,” Jango said simply.

Obi-Wan sighed, running his free hand through his hair. 

“The Republic—“

“Will have no way to enforce itself,” Jango interrupted. “And if Kryze needs to run to the Republic whenever someone threatens her rule because she refuses to do anything for herself, then does she really deserve her place?”

Obi-Wan didn’t have an answer for that. “Pacifism—“

“Is for individuals to choose for themselves, not for a single woman to enforce with the backing of a separate ruling body whose entire goal is to make Mandalore weak so that it can never be a threat.”

Obi-Wan glanced up at that. “You’d let those who wished to remain pacifist do so?”

Jango rolled his eyes. “The vod’e said you understood a great deal of Mandalorian culture. There are ways to follow our beliefs without taking up weapons.”

It was something Obi-Wan knew conceptually, but had seen little evidence of. 

Many of the Mandalorians he’d met had been extremists in one direction or another. He could recall some of the Traditionalists, those who had disagreed with both Death Watch and Satine and just wanted to be left in peace to live their lives as they saw fit.

If Jango would really allow the pacifists to remain just that…

“Do you think they’ll support you?”

“I’ve already received several oaths saying as much.” The words were accompanied by an almost nonchalant shrug that gave Obi-Wan the impression that there were more than just ‘several’ clans that had sworn their oaths to him.

Those same traditionalists, Obi-Wan imagined, who had wanted something other than the two choices that had been given to them, but had had nowhere to turn.

Obi-Wan sighed, running his hand through his hair again.

“And is Mandalore all?” he asked quietly. “No dreams of an Empire like Mandalore of old?”

Jango laughed, and it was a surprisingly delighted sound. “I’m rather certain I’ll have more than enough on my plate without adding conquest to my list,” he said wryly. “I just want my home back, and I want my home to be what it should be, not what the Republic has tried to make it.”

“So you don’t want revenge?” Obi-Wan asked quietly. “On the Republic, on the Jedi?”

The laughter in Jango’s face faded, expression turning pained. “Want it?” He shook his head, though it was clearly not in any sort of negation. “Of course I want it. I’d tear the Republic and the Jedi down to their very foundations if I could.” Obi-Wan shivered. “But I won’t lose everything in pursuit of it. I decided that ten years ago. And the Separatists will likely do my job for me, unless the Republic mobilizes a draft far faster than I expect them too.”

That, Obi-Wan thought, feeling a little ill. Was true. But there was still hope the Republic would rally. So long as Jango was honest about not actively going against them.

Obi-Wan searched Jango’s gaze, trying to spot the lie in the words, even as the Force said he was being honest.

“You killed so many of us,” he whispered.

“It was war, cyare,” Jango said simply. “And at your request I’ll never touch another Jetii unless in defense.”

He brought Obi-Wan’s hand up, their fingers still intertwined, and kissed at Obi-Wan’s knuckles. Obi-Wan’s breath caught in his chest.

He couldn’t help but wonder what more Jango would give him, if he thought to ask. The thought came, to ask for his freedom but…

But Jango had already answered that question. That Jango far preferred being able to give to Obi-Wan—the head of his enemy, the lives of young padawans with love notes in their clenched hands, his grandpadawan’s freedom—than being forced to take from him. Obi-Wan did not want to consider just what Jango might think needed to be taken.

Theirs was a macabre courtship, he thought, not for the first time.

“Why haven’t you acted, yet?” he asked finally. “Why let this war be prolonged the way it has?”

“Because it’s not just about stopping the Republic now,” Jango said easily. “It’s about ensuring that they, and the Separatists, won’t be a threat later.”

Obi-Wan considered the words carefully. “You said that Mandalore would be enough for you.”

“It will be.”

Obi-Wan bit his lip. “Mandalore will be the only stable sector in the galaxy.”

Jango’s smile was far from reassuring, eyes almost blazing. “The rest of the galaxy is going to have to fend for itself. They won’t be Mandalore’s problem.”

It wasn’t going to be that simple, he didn’t think. Didn’t think Jango thought it was that simple either.

“What do you want from me?” he asked finally.

Jango raised an eyebrow at that. “What makes you think I want anything from you, except for you.”

Because no one wanted just him. “Is it Satine?” Obi-Wan asked, pushing. “You said you knew I loved her.”

Jango’s face went completely blank, in that moment his helmet would have given Obi-Wan just as much to go on as the expression on his face. “I do know that,” he said finally. “I don’t think you’d give her to me, though.”

Obi-Wan wouldn’t, and he supposed it was good that Jango knew that much about him.

But then, Jango seemed to know far more about him than Obi-Wan was really comfortable with. 

“Then what do you want?” Obi-Wan demanded.

Jango leaned close, pulling Obi-Wan into a slow kiss.

“I want you to love me,” he breathed, the words brushing against Obi-Wan’s lips. “That’s all I want from you, Obi-Wan.” Jango kissed him again slowly. “And Obi-Wan? I always get what I want.”

Obi-Wan shuddered, before pulling back. “I… I need to go check on—“ He stood, not bothering to finish the sentence before fleeing the room.

Obi-Wan’s heart was pounding in his ears as he stared at the holonews, and he collapsed to his knees.

No, no. No, it couldn’t be real, this… it couldn’t have.

212^th Goes Down in Flames, it said. Loss of General Kenobi Spreading

His fault. His fault. His fault.

He’d gotten them killed.

He should have been there.

Time seemed to twist and compact, broken sobs escaping his mouth, ugly jerky things.

Dead, dead, dead. All his men, dead. And Obi-Wan had been here, so far away from them, unable to protect them.

Dead, dead, dead.

“Obi-Wan?” Jango’s voice came from behind him, voice bright with delight. “Obi-Wan, what—“ Jango’s voice cut off as a strangled sob escaped Obi-Wan. “Obi-Wan?”

The delight was gone, replaced now by worry so sharp he could feel it in the Force.

“Obi-Wan.” Jango’s voice was demanding. “What’s happened, what’s wrong?”

Obi-Wan couldn’t answer, eyes still focused on the holonews.

The datapad was wrenched from his hand and Obi-Wan was too out of it to try to pull it back.

Jango cursed, and there was a crashing sound that Obi-Wan vaguely noted was the datapad hitting the wall.

“Obi-Wan.” Jango was in front of him, on his knees. “Obi-Wan, I need you to breathe. I need you to calm down.”

Obi-Wan shook his head. “I got them killed.”

Jango’s brows furrowed, and Obi-Wan realized he was trying to translate Obi-Wan’s sob-broken words into something that made sense.

“You didn’t,” Jango said after a long moment. “Obi-Wan, you didn’t kill them.”

“It’s my fault. I… I should never have let you— It’s your fault, too. You should have never wanted me. I should have been there. I could have—“

“Obi-Wan,” Jango snapped, cutting Obi-Wan off. “The 212^th aren’t dead.”

The words took a long moment to settle in his brain. He stared at Jango, not sure what to make of it. Afraid to make of it what he thought it meant in case he was wrong.

If he was wrong, if he allowed himself to hope and he was wrong… He would never survive that.

“What?” he whispered.

“They’re not dead,” Jango told him, voice soft. “I promise. They missed you. They decided they wanted to come home.”

“Come home,” he said numbly.

Jango’s hand was in his hair, running through it gently. “They’re coming home, Obi-Wan. They’re coming back to both of us.”

“They’re not dead?” Obi-Wan asked again, not sure he could believe it. 

“I meant for it to be a surprise,” Jango said. “You’re not supposed to be sneaking looks at the holonews.”

“They’re alive,” Obi-Wan said, ignoring the remonstration, needing Jango to verify it one last time.

“They’ll be here within the week,” Jango assured him. The hand in his hair moved to cup his cheek. “It’s going to be fine, Obi-Wan. They’re coming back to you.”

Obi-Wan slumped forward, his energy completely depleted as though he’d gotten out of a ten-day siege. Jango let out a surprised sound, catching Obi-Wan and maneuvering him so that he was leaning against Jango’s chest.

The thought of the 212^th being dead… he shuddered and Jango murmured something that was likely supposed to be soothing, but Obi-Wan was having a hard time concentrating on anything now, emotionally exhausted.

After a long, drawn out moment, Jango started shifting them, nearly picking Obi-Wan up.

“Can walk,” Obi-Wan murmured.

“All right,” Jango said, voice quiet. “Let’s get you to bed.”

“I don’t—“

Jango shushed him and Obi-Wan didn’t have the energy to fight him.

The 212^th was alive.

They weren’t dead.

They weren’t dead.

Jango helped him to their rooms, though Obi-Wan refused to be put to bed—he wasn’t a child who needed coddling after a shock—instead stealing Jango’s desk, curling up slightly in the uncomfortable chair.

Jango let out a quiet sigh, brushing a kiss over his cheek. “It’s going to be okay. I’m sorry you found out this way.”

“It’s fine,” Obi-Wan murmured, even if it really wasn’t.

“Alpha-17 will be here soon,” Jango murmured.

“Why is Alpha-17 coming.”

Jango let out a huff. “Because Alpha-17 will make you feel better.”

Alpha-17 was the least comforting person Obi-Wan could think of. He certainly didn’t make a habit of making people feel better.

Yet…

Jango was right, when Alpha-17 slid into the room, radiating the same general impatience with everyone around him, Obi-Wan felt something in him relax. One of his soldiers, here where Obi-Wan could see him.

“You going to be okay if I leave,” Jango murmured.

Obi-Wan made a face. “I’m fine. I’m fine.”

Alpha-17 snorted. “Cody’s not going to know whether to be proud you care so much, or annoyed we let you find out this way. Either way, you’re not fine.”

“He’ll be annoyed,” Obi-Wan muttered. “He always is.”

Alpha-17 snorted, sitting on the edge of the bed. Obi-Wan was vaguely aware of Jango slipping out, but he was too tired to make much sense of anything.

“Probably,” Alpha-17 agreed. “Don’t know where he got it from.”

Obi-Wan huffed at that. “Right.”

Alpha-17 just raised an eyebrow, taking it as agreement, despite clearly knowing it wasn’t. It was just like Alpha-17, and that was a relief too.

It was a little annoying, that Jango had known so easily how to bring Obi-Wan back from where his terrified grief had left him. But Obi-Wan couldn’t help but be grateful for it.

It would have been so easy for Jango to try to ‘fix’ things himself. To try to be all Obi-Wan needed. But he’d sent him Alpha-17. Had given Obi-Wan what he needed, not what Jango wanted him to need.

It was something he’d never have expected. But then… but then maybe Obi-Wan didn’t actually know Jango all that well.

Maybe that was something that Obi-Wan should try to change.

Obi-Wan’s breath was tight in his throat as he watched Grievous’ own ship start lowering from atmosphere.

Cody had pulled off an expert maneuver, taking over Grievous ship and then shooting down the Negotiator from inside the enemy ship.

Brilliant, because Cody always was, and successfully fooling the Republic.

Obi-Wan didn’t ask how Cody had taken out Grievous, Jango mentioning something about an airlock and Obi-Wan deciding that that was all he needed to know.

Cody and his men were alive. Grievous was gone.

And then the Malevolence had settled onto Concordia and Obi-Wan’s men were making their way out of the ship.

Jango stood back as Obi-Wan found himself greeting each of them. Clasped hands and the occasional keldabe kiss for those he was closer to, and then there was Cody.

“I thought you were dead,” Obi-Wan whispered, pulling Cody close.

“I’d never die on you, General.”

It was not a promise that anyone could make, but if anyone was going to keep to it, it’d be Cody.

“Never do that to me again,” Obi-Wan said, words fervent.

“Never,” Cody agreed. “You’re stuck with us, General. We’re not leaving you.” Cody pulled back. “You’re doing well?” HIs gaze seemed to flicker over Obi-Wan’s face, looking for signs that Cody had learned how tor read early in the war. “You look better.” Cody looked satisfied. “I knew Fett would be good for you.”

“I don’t know if I’d say that,” Obi-Wan said dryly. “Jango’s—“

“Good for you,” Cody repeated. “I can see it.”

“Perhaps that’s just because I haven’t been in a fight in months,” Obi-Wan pointed out.

“Because of Fett,” Cody pointed out.

Obi-Wan rolled his eyes. “Fine, Jango’s been good for me.”

Cody nodded, satisfied.

As though called by the action, Jango reappeared. “Commander.”

“‘Alor.” Cody gave a respectful tilt to his head. “Thank you for taking care of my General.”

Jango gave Obi-Wan a soft look. “Always, Commander.”

“501st is ready to come in whenever you make the call,” Cody said, moving onto business briskly.

“The 501st?” Obi-Wan found himself asking. “What about… What about Anakin and Ahsoka.”

Cody and Jango exchanged looks over him. “Skywalker is a liability to bring in,” Cody said finally. “He’d never stand for being separated from Amidala.”

That was true, Obi-Wan had to admit. Everything that Jango and the men were building here would be immediately compromised.

“And Ahsoka?”

“Might not be a good idea to take away all of Skywalker’s support system,” Cody said delicately.

Obi-Wan frowned, because that was true too. Still, the thought of Ahsoka out there without the 501st. Yes, all of the clones were talented and capable. But he knew the 501st, could trust them with Ahsoka.

“When are you moving onto Mandalore?” Obi-Wan asked.

There was a pause to jango’s steps, but he recovered quickly. “Soon.”

“How soon?”

Jango just rolled his eyes. “You know I’m not going to tell you that.”

“Unless I swear riduurok,” Obi-Wan finished.

Cody stopped. “You haven’t sworn riduurok yet?” he asked, sounding strangely offended on Jango’s behalf.

“No,” Obi-Wan said. “I don’t tend to swear riduurok to people who entrap me.”

Cody scowled. “He saved you.”

It occurred to Obi-Wan, perhaps for the first time, that Cody had likely known exactly what was going on when her had given Obi-Wan the information that would implicate Barriss and free Ahsoka. That he had done it knowing full well that Obi-Wan would go to Jango and never come back.

He found he wasn’t sure just how he was supposed to feel about the fact.

“He’s stubborn,” Jango said lightly. “I knew that going into things.”

Obi-Wan decided it was probably best to ignore them for now. Instead offering to show Cody around.

Cody accepted and Obi-Wan found himself reveling in showing him everything.

Part of him ached. He wished he could have given Cody and the rest of the vod’e. That he could have freed them. But they had freed themselves, and Jango was the one who had given them a home to return to.

Obi-Wan was just the person that had gotten caught up in the middle of things.

It left him feeling strangely lonely.

He finally left Cody to catch up with the rest of the vod’e searching out Jango.

Jango was at one of the bonfires, surrounded by more of the Vod’e and Obi-Wan hesitated, wondering if perhaps—

But then Jango was looking at him, small smile on his face as he tilted his head in invitation.

Obi-Wan took the invite, slipping through the vod’e until he reached Jango’s side. He leaned into it, letting Jango wrap an arm around his waist.

“Did it help?” Jango asked. “Seeing them again?”

Obi-Wan nodded. “Thank you.”

Jango twitched in surprise. “You don’t have to thank me, you know. I didn’t actually do this for you. This was started before I even knew you.”

“I know,” Obi-Wan said. “You did it for them.” It made it all the more beautiful.

“And for myself,” Jango admitted, the honesty stark and refreshing.

Jango was always like that, though. At least as far as Obi-Wan was aware. Honest.

Perhaps it was so that when he did lie, Obi-Wan wouldn’t see it coming. It was the sort of thing Jango could very well do.

But also… Did Obi-Wan really know Jango well enough to say that?

It was something that had poked and prodded at him more and more.

Did he really know Jango at all?

Had he even tried to know Jango?

He hadn’t and he knew it.

He hadn’t wanted to.

Which was valid, wasn’t it? Jango had been the one that put them in this position.

Except… Obi-Wan had to.

He’d gone into this with his eyes wide open.

And his heart firmly shut.

Or it had been. Slowly, surely, the locks around his heart seemed to be falling away, the door creeping open.

It was a dangerous thing to let happen, especially when someone like Jango was involved. Someone who saw Obi-Wan’s every weakness, someone who would not hesitate to exploit them.

“Would you bring Ahsoka home?” Obi-Wan asked quietly. “If I asked you to?”

Jango jumped a little, turning towards him. “Of course I would.”

“Even if it was… unwise?”

Jango raised an eyebrow. “She’d be under guard until she could be trusted. We wouldn’t let her just run wild. But the 501st could handle her.”

Obi-Wan swallowed.

“I don’t want her out in the war without the 501st to watch her back.”

Jango blinked, but then nodded. “Consider it done.”

Obi-Wan nodded, turning back to the fire.

“And Anakin, if he ever chooses to, would he be welcome.”

“If you want it,” Jango agreed, easing into it.

“And… and any of the Jedi.”

“I can’t see that happening,” Jango said wryly.

“But if it did.”

Jango sighed. “Only if the men who served under them agree to it.”

For some reason the answer made Obi-Wan’s heart flutter. Not a complete agreement, a conditional one. One that took into account the clone’s needs rather than just Obi-Wan’s own.

“Of course,” Obi-Wan said quietly.

Jango glanced at him. “I’d give you anything you wanted,” he said, as though not recognizing the contradiction.

Or… Or perhaps he did. Perhaps to Jango it wasn’t a contradiction at all.

“What do you want?” Obi-Wan asked. “What do you want from me.”

Jango’s lip quirked into a smile. “I think you just like hearing me say that I want you.”

Obi-Wan didn’t deny it. Part of him suspected that it could very well be true.

“I’m not ready to say riduurok,” he said, finally.

“I know.”

Obi-Wan leaned against Jango again, reveling in the warmth radiating from his skin, almost equal to the warmth of the bonfire in front of them.

“But… But I’m willing to think about it.”

Jango’s pleasure burned brighter than the fire in front of them.