Chapter Text
The Diner was going to close in an hour. Dex was busy cleaning up as they haven’t had any new orders for a while. He wiped the counters and started on the washing, tidying up his always “overly crowded” (according to Ben) workstation, when he heard a tumultuous noise somewhere from the main room.
“Obes! Oh my Force, Obes!” someone screamed, disturbing all the other clients still left in the diner. The voice was young. Young enough that Dex, just knew that he had to deal with one of the biggest banes of his new life. Namely, teenage customers.
Dex sighed. He didn’t want to have to intervene, but he would have to if the ruckus didn’t die down. And teenagers, apart from Ben (because Ben was quiet, respectful, well-mannered and a good conversation, even if he also seemed to bring chaos wherever he went), were menaces. Especially in this district. Bunch of loud, brash, annoying little dickheads with no common sense.
“We were looking for you EVERYWHERE!” the voice continued to holler. Jettster started to make his way out of the kitchen. Breathe, he told himself. Ben would usually breathe deeply while collecting himself and it was extremely useful when one was trying to approach the boy’s age group calmly, as it usually required much more patience than Dex was ready to muster.
“Why the kriff did you run away, you idiot!?
Dex looked at the source of all the noise. It was a human teenager, a characteristic, yellow, Kiffar’s tattoo on their face. They were also clutching at Ben and trying to drag him out of his booth where the redhead was spending the afternoon studying sign language (they were learning together, Dex, Hermione and Ben to make communication easier).
“Oh no,” Dex thought, with quiet resignation. “Now there is two of them.”
The second boy was taller than Ben. Muscular, tanned, with long dark hair, pulled into dreadlocks and a single, bead-studded braid. He was wearing plain, beige clothes, cinched by a wide, leather belt. A silver, cylindrical object that Dex vaguely recognised as a lightsaber was hanging off his belt.
A Jedi.
Dex planned to be polite but the whelp touched his kid (okay, Ben wasn’t “his” technically, but tell that to Dex’s raging hormones that decided to recognise The Kid as “family”… it was purely biological and not entirely surprising, considering he was a child in need).
“What on Uncle Muffar’s trembling whiskers is going on here?
“Come on!” the Kiffar, ignored him, still tugging at Ben insistingly. “We are going to go back to the temple! Everyone was so worried. The Council is running around in circles looking for you! Bant is going to kill you. She’s been crying herself to sleep for weeks, and Siri and Garen and still in so much trouble after trying to mount a search mission and…”
“I’m not going anywhere!” the redhead screamed.
Dex froze, his mouth gaping, staring at Ben. Ben looked equally shocked. In the few months since the boy first landed behind the Diner, he never, ever spoke a word and now he was screaming, his voice raspy and trembling, his throat clearly not used to emitting sounds.
“Obes? Are you alright?” the dark-haired boy let go of Ben, his face suddenly worried and concerned.
Dex finally closed his mouth.
“I’m not going back, Quin! I’m not,” the small redhead shook his head. He took a small step back, putting some distance away from the taller boy, shaking. “There is no point! They are just going to send me off to the AgriCorps again and I’M NOT GOING!” the boy ranted. His face was sickly pale, his hands trembling.
“Obes?”
“I think we all need to calm down here” Dex stepped between the two of them and both boys looked at him, surprised.
Ben was at Dex’s side in seconds, big, blue-grey eyes looking up at the Besalisk pleadingly.
“Please don’t make me leave,” he said quietly.
Dex was not entirely sure what was going on here, but Ben looked scared and uncomfortable and like he was in desperate need of a hug. They were still working on making the kid more comfortable with touch but it was a slow, delicate process. Even so, carefully, giving the boy as much time as he could in case he wanted to move away, he put one of his hands on the bony shoulder in an attempt to calm him down.
“Calm down, kiddo,” he murmured softly. “You are not going anywhere you don’t want to go.”
Then he turned to the other boy, who was observing them with suspicion, his hand lying on his weapon.
“And ya are…”
“Quinlan Vos. I’m Obi-Wan’s best friend,” the boy said, tone brisk and curt. Dex decided that it meant that Ben’s real name was “Obi-Wan”. He wasn’t really surprised that Ben was using a false name. And considering the mention of the Temple and Vos’s braid and saber… Well, it was quite easy to guess what and who Ben was running from.
The only question that remained was why.
“Well, Quinlan Vos. I’m Dex and this is my Diner. Why don’t ya take a seat? There is no conversation that is not made better by a burger. The Twig here makes a really mean coleslaw.” Ben was actually quite a good Diner Assistant. He helped in the kitchen sometimes and on the floor with the cleanup, although Dex insisted that he didn’t have to. He had to be stopped from doing too much, most of the time.
“What are you doing with Obi-Wan?” Vos asked suspiciously, sliding into the booth.
“I’m his friend. Can’t claim that I’m his best friend but we… Have an agreement, don’t we, kiddo?” he turned to his number one problem.
Ben nodded, hesitantly. He looked much better than a few months ago. He was still thin but it wasn’t that skeletal thinness of their first meeting. He cut his hair more evenly, so it fell down his shoulders in soft, shiny waves which would glint metallically in the setting sun. His skin was not as flaky and thin as it was before. He looked healthy, even if Dex caught a sign of scars that no child should bear, once or twice. He still looked small for his age, but Dex was not entirely sure whether it was the effect of prolonged malnutrition, genetics or maybe the fact that Ben was not as human as he claimed to be, at least according to some of the pilot customers who perused the galaxy. Dex wouldn’t know until he coaxed him into seeing a healer which was still a work in progress.
But even if physical recovery was progressing fast, mentally they were far from it. The boy was still withdrawn. Easily spooked. A couple of times, Dex stayed at the diner after the child went to sleep, he heard him having terrible nightmares, but Ben would run away and disappear for a day or two when comfort was offered. He didn’t attack anyone, but when the other day, some engine exploded outside of the Diner, Dex found him empty-eyed and completely frozen by the table and it took half an hour for the kid to come back to himself.
“I would have never thought ya are a Jedi, Ben…” he mused. No, the stories said the Jedi were very protective of their younglings. That if you wanted to get a Padawan, you had to get the Master first. But looking at Ben…
“I’m not. Not anymore,” the boy said quietly, morose.
“Ben?” Vos asked, his dark eyebrows drowning together in confusion.
“That’s how your friend introduced himself,” Dex shrugged.
“What’s going on here, Obi-Wan? I don’t understand. I know you argued with Master Jinn, but…”
The redhead shuffled uneasily, staring at his hands that were lying curled up in his lap. He opened and closed his mouth a couple times, clearly trying to find the words, but they seemed to elude him again. He mouthed the words a couple of times but there was no sound.
His tiny, pale face scrunched in frustration and embarrassment.
“Want ur datapad, kid?” Dex asked softly and the boy nodded, reaching for the device. “Ben struggles with speaking sometimes,” he explained to Quinlan who looked more and more confused and worried.
It was clear that the kid didn’t lie and they were friends.
“Do ya want me to leave you two alone so ya can talk?” the Besalisk asked. Ben had his secrets and his past was clearly painful. Dex was going to respect that.
Carefully, the boy nodded.
“Let me know if ya need me, okay?
Dex went to get the burger for Vos. He might as well feed the kid if he was already here while he and Ben worked through whatever they needed to work through. Thankfully, Hermione was holding down the fort and Dex just had to take the meat out of the fridge. There were no new orders and she started cleaning duties at the counter so it seemed like they were going to finish on time.
“So what’s with the whole Ben business?” Quinlan was asking when Dex made his way back to their table. They were both calmer now. If Jettster was a better person, maybe he wouldn’t eavesdrop. But he wasn’t, so shamelessly, he listened to their conversation, hoping that this breach of privacy could be explained by his concern for the boy.
That’s the name I’ve been using. I didn’t want to be found. Ben typed out and the system read out with a metallic, emotionless voice. They found a good program for that which worked great when Dex was doing something and couldn’t read as fast as the boy typed.
“Why not?! The Order accepted you back. It’s ridiculous,” the taller boy waved his hands in frustration.
They put me on probation, Quin. But Master Jinn didn’t want me back as his Padawan. He said that I’ve fallen too low. I was never going to pass the probation either way. I’m not… I’m not a Jedi material. They were right. I’m too angry. Too volatile. Too dangerous.
“Why would you even think that, Obes? Did Master Jinn say that?”
Ben was quiet for a moment, fidgeting nervously. Whoever Master Jinn was, he was most likely the one who said that. Dex didn’t like the whole thing one bit.
I blanked out and attacked him, Quin. Like Xanatos did. And you… You weren’t on Melidaan. You haven’t seen what I’ve done. I can’t come back.
Ben looked miserable, glancing at Dex nervously.
“But…” Quinlan was clearly going to push.
“That’s enough, kid,” Dex decided that it was time he stepped in, into whatever that was. He stepped out from the kitchen, burger and fries in hand and loudly put the plate down in front of Vos.
Ben didn’t want to go back to Jedi and Dex was not entirely sure whether he should. Clearly, someone failed somewhere on the line. Dex’s money was on the “Master Jinn” guy. If Dex had his information right, the Masters were responsible for raising Padawans. Raising included protection. And someone failed badly at protecting Ben.
“Sometimes it’s better not to push,” he said softly. “Eat your burger. Am I to assume that ya are another runaway?”
“Don’t worry about it. Master Tholme knows I always come back. I just really, really felt like a milkshake and…”
He really didn’t need more Jedi kids. One was enough. More than enough. Especially because Quinlan Vos seemed like a handful.
Thankfully, luck didn’t completely abandon Dex.
The kid never gets to finish the sentence.
The Diner’s doors slid open.
The man who entered, was wearing a long, brown cloak. He had dark, longish hair, pulled into a messy ponytail with an occasional grey hair here and there. There was a goatee and a moustache on his face and his cheeks were tainted with red of exertion or maybe anger. Considering the scream that escaped him a second later, Dex would bet on the letter.
“Quinlan Vos! What in the hells were you thinking?!”
***
Jedi Knight Tholme should probably be more concerned by the disappearance of his Padawan. The thing was, it wasn’t the first time. It wasn’t even the fifth time. At the moment, the count sat at well over ten times and Tholme wholly believed that the teenager, no matter how problematic he was, could take care of himself.
It didn’t mean he wasn’t searching, it just meant he didn’t call for the Temple guards as soon as he lost sight of Quinlan during their excursion into Coruscant’s lower levels.
To be honest, he took the teenager on a city trip in hopes of lifting the boy’s spirit. A meal in his favourite restaurant, maybe a film in the holofilm centre were Tholme’s planned distraction but the plan never came to fruition.
As soon as they stepped into CocoTown, Vos was gone.
Quinlan was not doing great. He was so happy after Padawan Kenobi returned to the Temple after his year-long absence, but it was a short-lived happiness. Barely a week after his return, Padawan Kenobi was gone again. Lost, this time not in space, but on the streets of Coruscant.
Quinlan blamed the Council and Qui-Gon Jinn.
He was angry at them before claiming that his friend wouldn’t leave the Order for a girl (privately Tholme thought that no Padawan or Initiate should be allowed to leave the Order without the lengthy legal process that made sure that the new guardians were right for them until they were of age). And even if he did, Melida/Daan was a war-torn planet, so Qui-Gon should just drag him back home. (Again, if it was Quinlan who tried to stay on a hell hole of Melida/Daan’s level for whatever reason, Tholme would be dragging him home by an ear - Quinlan would hate in the moment but he would understand in the end that it was for his own good).
But Tholme was not omnipresent and he didn’t know much about what happened that led to the events playing out the way they did. There were a lot of rumours circulating around the Temple. Padawan Kenobi stayed because of his attachments. Padawan Kenobi fought the war which was unbecoming of the Jedi. Padawan Kenobi apparently returned even angrier than he left, or so everyone said, but when Tholme caught a glimpse of him in the dining hall, tucked under Quinlan’s arm, he didn’t see anger. He saw fear. He saw hunger. He saw a shadow of a bright child who left the Jedi a year earlier and returned tired and older than a child should ever be.
He heard about The Argument that followed a few days after that glimpse, of course. Everyone heard about The Argument. From what he gathered, Qui-Gon Jinn and his Padawan resumed the saber lessons a week or so after the boy’s return and Padawan Kenobi absolutely lost it during the spar and he attacked his Master. Allegedly, it took Jinn and three adult Jedi Knights to subdue him. There was a talk of Falling, of not being suitable for the Order, of mistakes and of how some people simply shouldn’t be trained to be knights.
Hours later, under the guise of the night, Padawan Kenobi was gone and nobody had seen him since.
It was over three months ago.
Quinlan was angry. Quinlan was the first to volunteer himself for a search mission. Quinlan accosted Master Jinn in the dining hall and “accidentally” spilt a whole bowl of soup on the man before proceeding to engage in a shouting match with him.
Anyway, when Quinlan was angry… Well. Things happened. Like chatting with Tholme and a model ship stall owner one minute and disappearing the other moment.
At least it was easy to track him down, following their Master-Padawan bond, unless Quinlan tried to block it which he wasn’t at the moment.
“I’ve been searching for you all day, you little rascal!” he screamed as soon as he entered the Diner, ignoring the fact that he was causing the scene and that as the Jedi they had appearances to maintain. Maintaining appearances was not a priority when your Padawan was determined to make you go grey before forty.
He closed the distance between the entrance and the booth and dragged out his wayward Padawan from it by the ear. “Was being grounded last week not enough for you?”
Tholme used to be as serene as Jedi ought to be, back in the day. Then, he met Quinlan Vos.
“You are in so much trouble, young man! I’m telling you, you will not see your lightsaber or the common room for a week. And it’s not an empty threat. I have an arrangement with Master Sinube made and don’t even think of skipping it this time because I will find you, I will kill you and I will resurrect you just to kill you again.”
“That’s not very Jedi of you, Master,” the boy had the audacity to say.
Tholme’s hands itched to twist the boy’s ear.
“Well, running away is not very Jedi of you, Padawan. You ought to listen to me and respect me and all that jazz.” If there ever was a day when Quinlan started to, he would call it a miracle.
“But I have a good excuse this time, Master! I found Obi-Wan! I couldn't ignore it! Look!” Quinlan pointed at something behind Tholme.
The Jedi Master turned around, promising himself to make Quinlan cook till the end of the month if the kid was playing with him before he was reminded that he definitely didn’t want Quinlan to cook for the rest of the month because it would be as much of a punishment for himself, but Padawan’s Kenobi disappearance was not a laughing matter and it shouldn’t be used as an excuse.
A Padawan, a child in their care, was missing and none of the Shadows who were assigned to his case could find a trace… They rarely had cases like that.
Quinlan was not lying though.
He was here. In a dodgy diner by the docks, staring at Tholme with wild, terrified eyes, bolting to hide behind a stocky, slightly overweight basilisk, dressed in low sitting trousers and white, stained shirt and an apron.
“I...” the redhead was clutching at the cook's shirt in a gesture too infantile for someone his age. All of his small frame was practically hidden behind a much wider non-human. The Force around him swirled in fear and panic. But he wasn’t scared of the cook, no, he was scared of Tholme.
To the point the Jedi felt almost sick with himself. No child should be scared like that. Especially not of their own family.
“Padawan Kenobi,” Tholme breathed out through his nose, suddenly regaining all the serenity the Order was famous for, his anger at his Padawan long forgotten.
Tholme needed to call the Council. They were all losing hope. They thought the boy got off the world and was lost, once again, somewhere in the galaxy. But he was here, all the time. On Coruscant. He didn’t look too rough. Some colour returned to his cheeks and his face wasn’t as painfully skinny as he was when he returned to the Temple. His hair was long and messy, far away from the Padawan cut he usually favoured but cut evenly. His braid was still missing and the space it should be in looked wrong. Out of place. As out of place as the fear he was looking at Tholme with.
“I’m not going anywhere. You can’t force me. I left the Order,” the boy said, voice barely a whisper. His grasp on the Besalisk tightened almost desperately.
“Care to explain what is going on here?” the Besalisk asked. “You’re scaring the kid.’ He glared, but when he turned to the boy, he seemed much softer. “Come on, kiddo. Remember to breathe for me,” he said gently, a large hand rubbing Obi-Wan’s back soothingly. The boy stiffened and then relaxed into it, leaning even closer to the cook.
“Padawan Kenobi went missing from the Temple about three months ago. We conducted a planet-wide search but we found no trace of him.”
“I’m no Padawan anymore,” the boy whispered. “Master Jinn took my braid. And then he said he wouldn’t be taking me back at the end of the probation.”
When Tholme saw Qui-Gon Jinn next time, he was going to kill the man. Hold it, it was not very Jedi of him (again) and the amount of times he was just about to plan murder was mildly concerning, but… The man was little Obi-Wan’s last chance at becoming a Jedi back in the day. Tholme was following the case of Initiate Kenobi quite closely because the boy was, after all, Quinlan’s closest friend, even if they argued almost constantly. He remembered how the child went to Master, after Master, Knight after Knight, trying to find someone who would train him. He remembered the desperation, the light slowly going out in the boy’s eyes with each crushing rejection.
And then Kenobi was gone and no one really knew why, because according to Quinlan he never had his Reassignment Council meeting, just to return a few months later, as Qui-Gon Jinn’s Padawan.
Tholme didn’t know Master Jinn well. It was hard to know someone who in the past twenty years was barely in the Temple.
But Tholme remembered the bright if shy and temperamental Initiate Quinlan hung out with. That boy was changed. Hurt. And someone should answer for it.
“That’s why you run?” he asked gently.
“I’m dangerous,” the boy mumbled.
Tholme really wanted to know what happened on Melida/Daan. He wanted to know what exactly kriffing Qui-Gon Jinn told the boy to make him run like that. What traumatised the boy so badly, what made him think that Temple was not his home anymore. That it was better to brave the world outside, alone, than to look for help from people who cared about him.
“Obi-Wan… We were all really worried about you. If you come back with us…”
“Then what?” the boy snapped. “What will happen then? Nobody wants me there. I heard the whispers. I could go to the AgriCorps, but I don’t… They will also talk. It’s going to be exactly like in the Temple if not worse. I’ve fought a War, Master Tholme. I’m made for the War. Jedi are peacekeepers, not soldiers. There is no place for army generals in the Order. Not as Knights. Not as Farmers. I will never fit in. No matter what I do. I spilled too much blood.”
The room was quiet. They all stared at the boy… But no, Kenobi was no longer the boy, was he? He grew up, way too fast, way too brutally, probably the moment his Master took his lightsaber away from him all those months ago.
Moments passed. Minutes. Maybe tens of minutes.
How does a thirteen-year-old go from staying on the planet for a girl to fighting a war?
If Quinlan wouldn’t drive Tholme completely grey, Kenobi would.
“What’s an AgriCorp?” The Besalisk asked finally, quietly.
Tholme took a deep breath, reaching into the Force for peace.
“It’s a service corps of the Jedi Order. The Knights are but one branch of the whole organisation,” he said evenly. “The AgriCorps are mostly farmers. There are different Corps as well. There is MediCorps for the Medics, and EduCorps which consists of the teachers. I’m sure the Council of Re-assignment would be happy to discuss an alternative placement if you no longer wish to train as the Knight, Obi-Wan.”
“Nobody asked him where he wanted to do the first time,” Quinlan interjected. “They just told him to show up on the landing pad for his transport to Bandomeer.”
Tholme was getting a headache. This was way beyond his payroll, especially considering that he didn’t get paid at all. Sometimes, early retirement sounded nice. He didn’t know how to explain because it was not how things were supposed to work. There were procedures, safeguards… Safeguards that Kenobi somehow slipped through.
He rubbed his brow.
“Well. It’s not how it usually works,” he settled on saying. “But as far as I am aware, Padawan Kenobi was put on probation to give him time to readjust to life in the Order. If he wishes to come back, they will surely discuss an alternative placement whether it be with a different master or a different service Corp.” Because sure as hell, Tholme was not going to allow Jinn near the boy. That’s what happened when you forced Knights to take Padawans. Not everyone should. Not everyone wanted to.
“Nobody but Master Qui-Gon wanted to train me for the first time. He didn’t either, not really. I don’t want to go back. Please, Dex,” the boy turned to his Besalisk companion. “Don’t make me go back. Can I just stay with you? I will be really good, I promise. I will learn how not to burn the onions and I will keep mopping all the floors and…” There was something desperate in his voice. He clearly believed he needed to be useful.
The alien slowly crouched down in front of the boy. You would not normally expect one of his kind to be gentle or kind but...
“Ya don’t have to do any of those things to stay here, Twig, ya know it. But if your legal guardians got involved, I…”
“Please Dex! I want to stay with you.,” the boy said quietly.
“Let me talk with da Jedi gentleman, kiddo,” the cook got up. “Ya can show your friend how the shake machine works. Hermione could always use a hand as well, isn’t that right?” he turned to the waitress who was watching from the background silently.
“Right as rain, boss!” the blond woman nodded. “I will keep an eye on them,” she winked at the boys and Quinlan turned a suspicious shade of red.
That boy…
Tholme shook his head and followed the owner into the office. He didn’t want to force Kenobi to come back. It would have been much easier for all parties involved if the boy had come home willingly.
“Here. That’s my office,” the Besalisk opened the door. The office was small and cramped. There was a bunch of blankets on the couch and an interesting collection of datapads and a half-made ship model on the coffee table. “Ben… I mean, your Padawan Kenobi sleeps here. I would offer him a bed at home, but little tyke is suspicious so we settled on him staying here, instead of wherever he stayed outside.”
Outside.
As if Tholme already didn’t feel guilty enough.
The boy was on the street for Force knows how long.
It was not surprising. Where else would he go? It’s not like he had friends or family outside of the Order. According to Quinlan, little Obi-Wan was found on the stairs to the Temple, at six months much younger than most younglings came to them, bundled up in a ratty blanket and screaming his little lungs out.
He didn’t have a family to go back to.
Force.
Tholme closed his eyes, focusing on regaining his inner peace, on centering himself in the Force.
“How did you find him?” he asked quietly.
“Stumbled on the kid going through my trash,” the Besalisk said quietly. “Fed him some real food. Took a while to convince him to stay. I tried to get the forces involved before ya start accusing me of anything but the kid is real good at avoiding the pigs… Pardon. The police.” There was no lie in the Force. Dex was telling the truth.
It was just getting worse and worse and Tholme was not entirely sure what to do. Forcing the boy wouldn’t do much good. He was already suspicious of the Order, he already felt like he wasn’t wanted. The way he begged his friend to let him stay…
“I want to bring him back to the Temple,” Tholme said quietly.
“Ya sure it’s a good idea? He’s clearly scared of going back.”
The cook fed him. Clothed him. Clearly cared for his well-being…
“Would you come with him?” Tholme asked. “He trusts you. I think he might agree if you come with us. I… I don’t exactly know what happened but clearly, we have failed the boy. He needs to talk to the Council. They will know how to fix it…” Obi-Wan needed to come home. He needed to be safe. Tholme was not sure how to make it happen.
“Don’t ya think it might be too late?” the Besalisk asked.
“I hope not,” Tholme sighed. He really hoped it wasn’t.
Despite his temper issues, Kenobi had so much potential. He and Quinlan were similar like that. Both emotional and bright, so bright in the Force. But Quinlan had Tholme who could see below the brash and reckless behaviour, who believed that one day Vos was going to grow up to be a great Jedi. Obi-Wan… Obi-Wan had a Master who repudiated a successful student. A Master who was in shatters after his second Padawan Fell. A Master who would probably focus on negatives, trying to stop his next students from following the path of the previous one. Allegedly, Qui-Gon spoiled Xanatos. So he was likely severe with Kenobi. The boy who spent a year in a warzone, according to himself fighting didn’t need that.
***
If you told Dex a few months ago that he would a) ever step into a Jedi Temple; b) would stand in front of the Jedi High Council with a trembling child clinging to his back like it was the last thing stopping them from fleeing, he wouldn’t believe you. He would call you crazy. But there he was, standing in the middle of a circular room surrounded by chairs in which morose, serious Jedi were seated, wearing his best shirt (Ben chose it when they went to the flea market the other day… the kid decided that Dex needed one shirt that wasn’t stained and didn’t have holes in it), two of his four arms crossed on his chest, and one of the other ones wrapped around the boy’s arms.
Ben was definitely deeply uncomfortable in the Temple, which was even more jarring, considering that Dex and Hermione (because of course she warmed up to the kid - he kept bringing her kaff and looking at her with his big, blue eyes, and she catapulted after like two days, her suspicions easing) just got him to relax slightly. He finally started to settle, to disappear less often, to interact with them without looking like he was afraid of them striking him any moment.
The regulars were starting to get used to his presence as well and he was their favourite. The pilots would bring him little gifts from wherever they went, the local old ladies would pinch his cheeks and knit him cardigans. Kriff it, last week the boy smiled for the first time, a small, shy thing that made Dex’s heart burst when they were washing dishes together at the end of the day.
“Young Kenobi. Very worried for you, we have been,” a small, green creature said. It was dressed in some kind of a grey garb and it had a tiny walking stick in its hand. “Run you did. Unbecoming of a Jedi such a behaviour is. Let go of his problems Jedi does and fate he accepts. Run he does not. Why would you care to explain?” there was something disappointed in their voice. Dex didn’t like it. It made Obi-Wan retreat in himself even more, to shuffle nervously behind Jettser’s back.
The boy was looking at the ground, shuffling on his legs and biting his lips.
On one hand, Dex’s heart was breaking for the boy. On the other, it warmed. It felt like a privilege to be offered so much trust by the boy who didn’t take to trusting easily. Who was burnt too many times.
“Ya don’t have to talk if ya don’t wanna talk, kiddo,” Dex said quietly. “Ya can write or not. Ur choice,” the kid didn’t owe anyone anything. And if he didn’t want to talk, Dex wasn’t going to force him. It took time and trust to open up. You couldn’t force it, especially not in an atmosphere that was not very friendly friendly.
“Thanks, Dex,” the boy murmured quietly. He sounded so grateful for such basic decency that the Besalisk had to stifle a surge of anger. It was almost like no one ever had his corner. Or rather, no adult was ever in his corner. “I ran because there was no reason for me to stay, Master,” Kenobi said louder, straightening his back and stepping in front of Dex.
He looked like a miniature Jedi now, even in his brightly coloured, orange shirt, his face a perfect echo of that of the Masters around him. He tucked his hands in his sleeves, eyes set on some point in front of him, somewhat blankly.
“Leave again you wish?”
“Yes,” the boy answered, his voice trembling slightly, even though he was clearly trying very hard to remain calm.
“Why did you run, Obi-Wan?” a dark-skinned, bald man asked. He seemed to be the youngest of those gathered and he was listening attentively until then, his eyes never leaving the boy.
“I made my decision when I stayed with the Young on Melidaan, Master Windu. I’m very grateful for the Order for… for allowing me back in. Please don’t think that I am not. I wanted to use that chance. I really did. I hoped I… I could. But I realised that I am no Jedi material…”
“Padawan Kenobi…” the man sighed quietly, something sad and regretful flashing in his dark eyes, his tone slightly chastising. He seemed to be fond of Ben, as much as Jedi could be fond of someone.
“I am too emotional. I care too much. I get attached. I will never be a Knight and if I am trained, sooner or later I will Fall,” the boy said robotically like he repeated something he heard many, many times before. “I know it. But I don’t… I don’t want to work for AgriCorps. I know there is no shame in it, I know, but I can’t… I won’t be a farmer. I’m sorry. I’m not being ungrateful, I just…”
“Why do you think you would be sent to AgriCorps?” Master Windu asked, his face concerned. He did look tired, Dex thought.
“That’s where I was assigned the last time,” the redhead mumbled.
“Are you saying that you didn’t have a choice regarding your assignment?”
Ben flinched.
Dex decided it was high time he stepped in before the poor child ended with another panic attack. It took him half an hour to calm the boy the last time.
“Look. I’m not liking the way ya’ll interrogating the kid,” he grumbled. “I don’t know what happened to him, but I doubt he did anything wrong. Whatever happened, he’s hurt, he’s scared and traumatised. He doesn’t need a bunch of yous treating him like a suspect on trial,” Dex would never argue that he was the smartest person in the world. But he knew people, and he cared for the boy and he was pretty sure that was enough to draw some conclusions here.
Jedi Council, or not, it was not a way to treat a child, even if “Master Windu” seemed to mean no harm.
“Dex…”
“Come on, kiddo. I hear ya screaming at night. I know this bunch is some kind of big-ass, fancy-shmancy fishes but ya are fourteen and they are supposed to be your guardians. They are supposed to protect ya. That’s their responsibility, no matter if ya fit their expectations or not. That Master of yours? Tholme told me he left ya alone for a year. There is no way it’s legal without child protection services being involved.” Not that Dex knew much about family law, but… “I’m pretty sure under Coruscant Law, you are a minor until you turn eighteen. He had no legal right to leave you alone. They…” he pointed at the Council. “‘Re responsible for supervising the Master people, aren’t they? It’s their job to make sure ya are safe with whoever takes care of ya, and they clearly fucked up.”
“Padawan Kenobi voluntarily left the Order after forming an attachment to the local girl,” one of the Masters with white hair and long, oblong hair said coolly.
“Padawan Kenobi was THIRTEEN...” Dex started to say because everyone seemed to be missing that small, but important piece of information.
“We are aware. We should have investigated better. There is usually a procedure in place when Padawan leaves the Order,” a Kel Dor in a distinctive (for his kind) mask said evenly. “For some reason, it was decided that those were special circumstances. It never should have been…” he looked at the green gremlin sceptically.
Obi-Wan stilled.
“I didn’t stay because I liked Cerasi!” he bristled loudly, his voice angry now. “I stayed because there were a bunch of kids who asked for the help of the Jedi. They wanted peace. They were fighting against their parents. They were starving. The Elders had no qualms about killing them. I couldn’t just do nothing. I don’t claim to know the will of the Force better than Master Jinn did, but it was telling me to stay and I couldn’t leave! I know it wasn’t our mission and I understand why Master Jinn left and took my lightsaber…”
Gods, it was just getting worse and worse.
The boy was a child soldier. It made sense. Terrible, cruel sense. Dex always knew that something terrible happened to his Twig, but he didn’t think… There was no way in hell he was leaving him with those people. Ben deserved better. SO MUCH BETTER.
“He left ya without a weapon as well?” it would be best if “Master Jinn” never met Dex. Because if he did… Dex couldn’t promise fists wouldn’t be used.
Dex turned to the Jedi with an “I told you so” look in his eyes.
“I hope ya’ll investigate that Master of his, because where I’m from he shouldn’t be allowed near children. Did ya even ask Ben what happened when he came back?”
Their faces told him that they didn’t. They were staring at the boy, reeling, some with terror, some with disbelief.
“Knight’s Jinn report…”
“I’m not asking about what that asshole told ya. I’m asking whether ya’ll asked Obi-Wan what happened?”
“We didn’t,” Windu finally said, shooting a look at the small, green creature.
Dexter decided that it made the point he was aiming for and there was no need for him to press further. This was their shitstorm to deal with.
Something tugged at Jettser’s hand lightly. Dex looked down at the boy, who was looking at him with large, pleading eyes.
“I want to go home, Dex. Please. I want to go home.”
He meant the Diner, Dex realised. Sometime, along the way the boy started to consider the Diner his home.
Dex’s heart warmed up at the thought.
“Whatever ya want, kiddo. And we are getting Kras involved as well.”
“What?”
“The way I see it, we have a blatant case of child endangerment and abandonment here. Ya shouldn’t be near a warzone, Twig, even if ya are a Jedi kid. Ya shouldn’t have been left there. And they shouldn’t have allowed it. I doubt ya are the only one taken on the mission a child should have no business being near. We should just let them get away with it.”
“But…”
“No buts,” Dex shook his head. The Jedi might have been a body independent from normal rules and regulations but Dex wasn’t going to leave it like that. He couldn’t. But he was also not going to torment the boy longer. “Come on, Ben,” he turned and started to walk towards the exit.
“It’s legally…” someone started saying in the background.
“I think we should let Padawan Kenobi leave with the Besalisk if he so wishes,” another voice interrupted.
“Master Sifo-Dyas…”
Dex turned when he was by the door. Ben was still in the middle of the room, clearly turned.
“You feel safe with Mr Jettster, Padawan Kenobi?” the Kel Dor asked.
The boy hesitated, looking at Jettster with wide, grey eyes.
“Yes, Master Koon,” he nodded finally.
“And you do not wish to return to the Temple? I assure you that we would still welcome you here. If you do not want to train under Master Jinn, we could arrange for an alternative training,” Windu said.
Dex was holding his breath. He didn’t want Ben to return to the Jedi, even if he didn’t return to Knight Jinn. They already failed him.
Ben seemed to think about it, long and hard.
“I… I want to stay with Dex if he allows it,” the boy finally said.
Something in Dex instantly relaxed. Ben wanted to stay with him. It was not just one-sided fondness. Ben was choosing to leave with him. It was all going to be alright.
“Meant for the Order you were, young Kenobi. A great Jedi you would have grown up to be,” the green goblin said.
But before Dex or Obi-Wan managed to say anything, the other green goblin, this one with wisps of red hair on their head spoke out.
“He clearly doesn’t feel safe here, Master Yoda. We failed to protect him multiple times. How is he supposed to be happy in a place that hurt him so much? Mr Jettster clearly cares for him. I think we should think of what is best for Pad… Obi-Wan for once because we already failed him spectacularly. If he found a home somewhere else… What right do we have to take him from there?”
She turned to the boy, her mouth stretched in a soft, placating smile.
“You will always be welcome here, Obi-Wan,” she said softly. “I know you might not believe it now, but even if you will stop your training as a Knight, you will be welcome in the Temple.”
The boy didn’t respond. Instead, he walked up to Dex and caught the Besalisk’s hand again.
“Can we go now?” the redhead asked quietly.
“Of course, Twig,” Dex said.
And so, they left the Council chamber, hand in hand.
***
“I’m sorry, Dex,” the boy dragged his feet as they were walking to the lift at the end of the corridor. The passing Jedi and apprentices were staring at them, with disbelief. There were whispers.
What is he doing here again?
Do you think they threw him out this time?
You heard about him, didn’t you? This is the Padawan who attacked his own Master, the one everyone has been talking about.
Jettster paid them no mind, tightening his hold on the redhead’s hand, hoping the boy would ignore them as well.
“What are ya sorry for?” he asked softly.
“I don’t want to be a problem,” the boy muttered quietly, shrinking away.
The one good thing in the whole situation was the fact that it seemed to shock Ben into talking again.
“Ya ain’t a problem, kiddo. You're…” Dex shook his head. The kid wasn’t a problem. He was a headache, and he brought chaos wherever he went, but Dex would never describe a child as a problem. “Ya need someone in your corner. Everyone needs someone in their corner. And if ya let me, it would be a great honour to be that person,” he wanted the kid to stay with him. For good. It was not going to be easy and it was going to be a legal clusterfuck, but frankly, the Jedi did not impress Dex and he understood why Ben didn’t want to go back.
It was hard to want to be where you were not wanted (and if you were it was never adequately expressed until it was too late).
“I…”
“Think about that, Twig. I’m gonna shuffle some papers, call some old friends and we shall sort out that mess if ya wanna stay with me,” he said, one of his large hands landing on the boy’s head and ruffling his pleasantly soft hair. Some people high up the legal chain owed Dex some favours and Dex wouldn’t stop himself from calling them in.“Ya don’t have to make any decisions right now though. It’s just an option,” he shrugged. The kid probably was not given enough choices in his short life and Jettster was not going to force him to do anything as long as the boy was safe.
“You really don’t mind? If I stayed with you?” the redhead asked quietly as if he still doubted it.
“Of course not.‘ Jettser shook his head. “I like ya, if ya didn’t get it. The Diner would be very empty without ya. If ya were staying for good, some things would change, of course. Ya would have to move in with me and go to school and stuff like that but you're welcome to stay. You're wanted, kiddo.”
Dex did not expect his words to cause tears. But there Ben was, blue eyes welling up. He was clearly trying to get himself under control but failed miserably, broken, tiny sobs escaping him involuntarily.
“Hey-ooo… Ya alright, kid?” the Besalisk asked, concerned. He stopped, looking at his charge with concern.
“I’m fine. I’m sorry,” the boy sniffled, like crying was something to be ashamed of. “I just… I don’t think anyone ever wanted me to stay. Even the Young. Nield couldn’t stand looking at me in the end. It was my fault Cerasi died..” the boy mumbled and Dex couldn’t stop himself any longer.
He scooped him up in his arms, hugging him, there, in the middle of the corridor.
The boy let him. He melted into that hug, finally letting himself seek comfort in someone else.
And so, obviously, that heartwarming moment had to be interrupted by someone Dex really didn’t want to meet.
“Obi-Wan Kenobi,” a deep voice said.
A man exited the elevator. He had long, brown hair and a beard and he was looking at the boy with cold, suspicious eyes.
Dex might have not had the access to Force-magic thing, but judging by the way Obi-Wan jumped behind him, practically trembling, there was no doubt who that was.
“Master Jinn, aren’t ya?” Dex was between the two of them in a second.
“I don’t know who you are but…”
“I’m here as someone with little Twig's best interest in mind, ya piece of shite,” Jettser was barely stopping himself from bashing the bearded face in. That wouldn’t help if any legal proceedings were to take place.
“Dex,” the boy whispered.
“He is a piece of shite, Ben, alright? Ya don’t just drop a child because their decisions are inconvenient.”
“Master Tahl needed help,” the boy mumbled.
“Then his job as a guardian was to drag ya back to the ship if necessary. It was his job as an adult in charge to get those kids help and out of danger… Not yours,” he said softly.
“You should not speak of things you have no idea about,” the Jedi Knight looked at him without an ounce of remorse or understanding. Dex would rather die than let the kid go back to someone like that.
“And you should not be allowed near children,” he snapped.
“Who do you think you are?” now Jinn sounded annoyed. From what Dex observed so far, the Jedis’ so-called emotionlessness was a bunch of bantha poodo.
“If I ever see ya near my kid again, I’m not gonna stop myself, ya get it?” Dex said, passing by the man. He would have entered the elevator, but the boy stopped.
“Ben…”
“I’m sorry for him, Master Jinn,” the redhead said, bowing. “And I’m sorry for attacking you,” he added, very quietly.
“Padawan Kenobi…” the human took a deep breath.
“I’m not a Padawan anymore. I will never be one again. You said so yourself,” the boy said gently. “But I… I appreciate the time you've given me,” he took a deep breath. “You were… You were right. It’s time to find my way beyond the Order now. I wish you all the best, Master Jinn. Goodbye.”
***
Sorting out the legal side of guardianship, took quite a lot of time and bribes but a few weeks later, Dex had all the documents in hand. The Jedi, surprisingly, were not a problem. The kindly Kel Dor (“Plo Koon” if Dex remembered correctly) that was sent on the Jedi Order’s behalf said that if a child in their care wanted to leave they tended not to make an issue out of it and Padawan Kenobi made it clear that he didn’t want to stay in the Order. He seemed sad about it, telling Dex that privately, he thought that Obi-Wan would have made a great Jedi but the child’s happiness was more important to then than anything else and that Obi-Wan seemed happy with Dex.
“It ain’t much, but it will have to do for now,” Dex was just showing Obi-Wan his new room. It was tiny and the flat was in the rather seedy part of town. The room was small and rather basic. It was not exactly the place Dex would want the kid to grow up in, but he was also not able to afford to move at the moment. It didn’t bother him when he was alone, but well… He wasn’t alone anymore. “Once the Diner takes off, we should be able to move somewhere nicer.”
The boy took a tentative step inside, looking appraisingly at the grey walls and simple furniture - a bed, a desk and a wardrobe.
“This is perfect. I don’t know how to thank you,” he said softly. He was still quiet and there were moments where he got too stressed to speak, but it was getting better. He looked hopeful now. Maybe not happy, but hopeful.
“Ya don’t have to thank me kid.”
“Are you sure that it’s all right…?”
“Do I have to smack ya?” seriously, that kid. It was like he was still expecting Dex to throw him out on the street. “You're welcome to stay for the rest of your life if ya so wish, ya get it?”
“I…”
Dex sighed quietly. It would probably take a long, long time before Obi-Wan believed it. It wouldn’t be easy to undo years of damage if it was possible at all. But maybe, just maybe, one day Obi-Wan would feel comfortable in his new place.
“We are going to be alright, little one,” Dex said softly. “We will get ya a nice mind-healer and we will find ya a school, and we will get that Quinlan friend of yours to come over again,” Dex was not going to cut off the kid from his friends and Kel Dor said that the Jedi wouldn’t do it either. “That Tholme dude seemed alright enough as well. He should come over too.” And Dex guessed he could use advice when it came to raising Force-Sensitive younglings as he knew nothing about that.
“Do ya have any other friends?” he asked. “Should we throw a housewarming party? I could bake ya a cake if ya wanted…”
Obi-Wan smiled wetly.
“I… Thank you, Dex. You are the best.”
“Thank me again and ya gonna be on the dishwashing duty for the rest of the week. We don’t give thanks for things that are like basic decency.”
“Sorry.”
“Don’t ya worry about it,” Dex shook his head. “Ya will learn.”
They had a long road ahead of them. Long and probably not easy and they both had a lot to learn along the way, but they would get there. Together.