Chapter Text
KAZ RIETVELD
The battle was won, but the war was hardly over. But to Kaz, it didn’t matter. What mattered was that he killed his brother.
Kaz hadn’t meant to, but he knew that by pushing Jordie away and shutting him out, he’d inadvertently caused his death.
Which was why the notorious Bastard of the Barrel was now crying softly over a corpse. Kaz willed Jordie to come back to him, if only so he could apologize. He begged the entity he considered his friend to bring Jordie back.
He knew it was useless. Hopeless.
Jordie’s heart had long stopped beating.
Kaz hoped Jordie was happy in whatever afterlife he believed in.
JORDIE RIETVELD
Jordie was dead.
He knew it. He knew it the moment that blaster bolt hit him, that he was going to die, and nothing could change that.
Except… he hadn’t expected Kaz to rush over to his side in his final moments. Hadn’t expected Kaz to cradle his head in his arms. Kaz, who had refused to even shake his hand or acknowledge him at all for days.
And when his little brother said with a quaver in his voice, “Jordie?”
Jordie’s heart broke a little more.
With difficulty, he looked at Kaz, eyes roving over his face, committing it to memory.
Jordie’s blood stained both their clothes, but Kaz only said, in a manner more gentle than he had ever directed at Jordie, “Sleep, Jordie. Everything will be fine when you wake up.”
Jordie thought, This isn’t such a bad way to go.
And so, he let go of his body and joined the Force.
Where he was now.
Yet…
Here, in the emptiness of everything, he heard a soft call, a whisper in his ear. Jordie, Jordie.
But what did it mean? What is “Jordie”?
He could not remember his past life, only that he had one. Was that his name?
A small boy with brown eyes alight with joy.
A farm where the small boy laughed and screamed in joy, “Jordie!”
A father who watched over them both as he leaned on the plow.
Blood. Screaming, but of pain and shock and fear.
Loneliness and wandering.
Finding a home again, drinking hot chocolate. Wind-up dogs.
Disease, decay, and death.
The cold water of the harbour. The Force caressing his face.
Leaving his country.
A blonde prince that became his friend.
Leaving his planet.
School. New friends.
Mandalore.
Becoming a senator.
Returning to his planet.
His brother’s murderer.
But it was false, because it was—
His brother, the small boy, all grown up.
Anger. Yelling. Harsh words thrown around.
The ships. A battle.
The blaster bolt headed straight to his chest.
Agony.
His brother, saying soothing things.
Death.
And the Force, ever whispering to him.
The calls grew in volume and insistence. Jordie, Jordie.
A line was extended to him, and Jordie grabbed it.
And gasped.
He opened his eyes to the smoke ridden sky. He turned his head both ways to pockmarked grass and smoking ships. And back to the face before him, the one who called his name and extended a line to him. Kaz.
Kaz, who was crying softly over his body.
Kaz? Jordie wanted to say, but all that came out was a groan of pain.
Kaz’s eyes immediately snapped to his face. “Jordie?”
“Kaz,” Jordie croaked.
“Jordie,” Kaz said. “I’m sorry.”
“What?” When Kaz did not answer, he changed his question. “Kaz, how?”
Kaz wiped away his tears roughly, his face returning to his usual cold impassiveness. “No matter.”
With that, he stood abruptly and left.
A Suli girl came up to Jordie, and together they looked at Kaz’s retreating form.
“Give him time,” she said. “He leveled the battlefield when he thought you were dead. He may not have admitted it to himself yet, but he cares for you still. Come, let’s get you to a medik.”
She helped him up and, with Jordie leaning on her heavily, they walked to the hastily erected medical tent.
OBI-WAN KENOBI
Obi-Wan was very curious about the man called Dirtyhands. He had shown up at a top secret conference despite not being invited, and being a known criminal at that.
Jordan had thought he murdered his brother.
And now, even as Obi-Wan felt Jordan’s life force slip away, the pale young man had force healed him in ways that should not be possible, for nobody could bring back the dead.
So when the man walked away from Jordan, Obi-Wan approached him, Anakin and Ahsoka not far behind him.
“What is your name?” asked Obi-Wan.
The man made no indication of hearing him, nor did he turn around when he answered, “I’m sure you've heard of me.”
“Just tell us your name,” said Ahsoka.
“Kaz Brekker.”
Kaz. Like Jordan’s dead-but-hopefully-not brother.
“That’s your real name?” asked Anakin suspiciously.
“Real enough,” Brekker answered. He was being evasive about something, but Obi-Wan didn’t press. Instead, he brought up the more important topic.
“Mr. Brekker, we don’t know how much you know about the Force, but you are clearly skilled in manipulating it. Are you aware of this fact?”
“Yes,” Brekker answered simply. They kept walking.
“We will, of course, be including this incident in our report for the Jedi High Council,” added Anakin.
“Thank you for informing me, Master Jedi. But I would rather if you didn’t.”
How does he know the proper address for them?
They finally stopped.
“It is required, Mr. Brekker. It will not harm you in any way,” Ahsoka assured.
“No,” Brekker said. “You will not be doing that. I’m not using your ‘force’, so you may as well not.”
What? Did he not realize he used the Force?
“But… You just used the Force to heal Jordan. You brought him back from the dead. That shouldn’t even be possible!” Anakin said.
“No, I didn’t.”
Obi-Wan probed the Force, and a realization was pushed into his mind. This man, Kaz Brekker, could talk with the Force. And the Force talks back.
“I’m very sorry, Mr. Brekker. We must tell the High Council of your existence. Your relationship with the Force is one of a kind,” Obi-Wan told him gently.
“No,” Brekker said again. “I want my privacy. If you tell your Council, I’ll make sure your ‘force’ hides things from you till it’s too late. You don’t want that, do you?”
Is he threatening Jedi?
“That isn’t possible,” said Ahsoka, but all three of them knew it was. It was what Sidious did to them for years, after all.
“Oh? Really? Is that why you’ve never noticed Inej spying on you these past weeks?”
“What?!” Anakin exclaimed. “We’ve been spied on?”
Brekker laughed, and it was like the grating of gravel and nails on a chalkboard. “Jordan came to you, no? Sniveling about how I murdered his brother?”
He had.
“Don’t worry,” Brekker laughed again. “Your secrets are safe with me, but they might not be for long.”
They came to a tentative truce. Brekker tells the force to not shenanigan with the Jedi, and they don’t tell the Council about him.
“The deal’s the deal.”
They shook.
“Ah, one last thing, Mr. Brekker. Is Jordan your brother?” asked Ahsoka.
Brekker only smirked. “No. My mother is Ketterdam and my father is profit. Jordan came from much softer places.”
As much as he tries, Obi-Wan is unable to use the Force to figure anything out. Brekker was practically invisible in the Force.
But Obi-Wan could read people just as well as he could read their Force signatures, and he knew false denial when he saw it.
“You should talk to him, you know. Jordan will want to thank you for saving him, at least,” he suggested.
“Thank you for the suggestion,” Brekker said, quite unkindly and sarcastically. He left.
KAZ BREKKER
Kaz avoided speaking to Jordie for days. His crows were insistent on them talking, as were the Jedi, although they dropped it much more easily than the crows.
He denied all plausibility of bringing Jordie back from the dead, saying he was simply injured and Inej got him to a medik in time. But, of course, nobody believed him. Obviously they didn’t know the details, and would never know, if Kaz had it his way, but they knew something had happened between the brothers.
Kaz sighed wearily. Jordie and everybody else were trying to get him to speak with Jordie. It was exhausting.
The Jedi had finally gotten to the point, taking days before they finally came clean about the Imps. Nikolai seemed amiable to the idea of joining the Republic, while Zoya, predictably, refused.
And then the doors opened, and four people came in. Two Mandalorians, a woman in Nite Owl armor — Bo-Katan Kryze — and the Mand’alor Din Djarin. A man in clothing similar to Ravkan military dress, holding the hand of a woman with white hair and a crown of antlers plated with glittering scales. Malyen Oretsev and Alina Starkov.
What were they doing here? They were supposed to be out hunting slavers, not in some political conference on Lazarus.
Many people gasped at the sight of “Sankta Alina”. Others stared at the Mandalorians.
“We are very sorry for intruding,” Alina said. “But my companions—” Here, she gestured to the Mandalorians. “—have an alternative solution to the Imperial threat. I fully support their idea.”
The support of Alina Starkov was of great influence, and so many people ended up agreeing with her and supporting the Mandalorians, who — alongside Alina’s fleet led by the Sol Koroleva — would be providing assistance in protecting Lazarus until they are able to repel the attacks on their own. An alliance of sorts.
The Jedi were ultimately rejected.
The day the Jedi were to leave Lazarus to return to Couruscant, Jordie found Kaz outside again.
“Kaz,” Jordie said.
Kaz ignored him.
“Kaz,” Jordie said again, louder.
Kaz sighed. “What do you want, Jordan?”
He expected Jordie to yell at him again, but instead, Jordie said, “I’m sorry Kaz. I know you hate me, but can we please try again.”
“No, Jordie. We can’t just try again. You left me here to rot!” Kaz’s anger bubbled up within him. “You never even bothered trying to find me, didn’t you?”
“I did! Kaz, why don’t you believe me? I thought you died!”
“Kaz Rietveld did die! And Kaz Brekker rose in his place! But you wouldn’t know anything about that, would you, Jordan?” Kaz sneered. “You were lucky, Jordie! You got fucking revived, while I was suffering in Ketterdam! We both know the world isn't fair, but my misfortune was brought on by your good luck!”
Jordie took a step back. “What?” he asked, hurt written all over his face. “Do you really blame me for leaving?”
“Yes,” Kaz gritted out. “You broke my trust, Jordie. I spent weeks lingering at the harbour, because I had hoped that you would come back for me! But you didn’t!”
“It’s not my fault I couldn’t find you! I searched everywhere!”
“Clearly you didn’t search well enough, because while you were off frolicking in Ravka with Nikolai fucking Lantsov and living in the Core, I was forced to murder and con my way into surviving Ketterdam!”
Jordie recoiled at the mention of Kaz’s endeavors in Ketterdam. Good, Kaz thought. Let him be disgusted. Maybe now he could be convinced to leave.
Kaz changed the tone of his voice. “Your brother is gone, Jordie. I’m Dirtyhands now. The Bastard of the Barrel. I’m not your brother.”
“Oh, Kaz. I don’t care about what you did in the streets of Ketterdam. You’re my brother, Kaz, no matter what. So don’t do this to me. Don’t shut me out again.”
“No matter what you say, Jordie, your face betrays you. I know how disgusted you are by my actions.”
“I can’t justify all of them,” Jordie admits. “But I forgive you.”
“I don’t need your forgiveness.”
What do you think my forgiveness looks like, Jordie?
The slip he had with Jesper surfaces in his mind.
“Then I ask you to forgive me,” Jordie said. Slowly, telegraphing his motions, Jordie stepped closer and hugged Kaz.
Kaz went still, the memory of cold — harbour — death — corpses creeping up on him. The water of the harbour lapped at his calves, but he did not feel its cold. Slowly, stiffly, he hugged Jordie back. The water receded, and all he felt was the warmth of Jordie’s very alive body.
They separated, after what felt like many long lifetimes.
“Kaz?” Jordie asked tentatively.
“I— I forgive you, Jordie. I’m— sorry.”
It was the first time he’d said those words to anyone other than Inej and his crows for years.
They exchanged comm numbers, promised to keep in touch, and Jordie left.
Inej, of course, got a final I told you so after he told her.
Kaz only grumbled a little.
FIN