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Chapter Text

"Is it true you captured Anakin Skywalker?" Obi-Wan asked as soon as he entered the Mand'alor's office.

Bo-Katan gave him a long, questioning look over her desk and put down the datascreen she'd been reading. "Elek."

Obi-Wan took the hint and switched into Mando'a. "I need to see him."

"Why?" Bo-Katan said. "You're no longer a Jedi, he's not your brother any longer."

"No, he's my padawan—was my padawan." The Jedi word felt awkward in the sentence, but Obi-Wan didn't have a better one to use. The Mando'a for student, hibir, felt too distant and impersonal.

"So?"

Obi-Wan gritted his teeth and realized he was going to have to put this in terms that a Mandalorian would understand. "Kryze—Mand'alor, you wouldn't keep a parent from his child, would you?"

That had the desired effect and made Bo-Katan pause. She lifted her eyebrows and studied Obi-Wan with open curiosity and a tinge of something that might have been respect. "Are you claiming him as your own?"

"I trained him since he was nine years old," Obi-Wan said. "No, not trained—" He was using the verb for teaching someone a new skill, but that didn't have the right connotations. "I don't know the word." He stopped in frustration and said in Basic, "How do you say 'raised'? Like raising a child?"

"Ba'jurir," Bo-Katan said.

"Oh." Obi-Wan should have realized that. It was also the verb for to educate. Obi-Wan had been "ba'jur"ed himself in the Indoctrination Center. "I raised him."

Bo-Katan narrowed her eyes and rested her chin on one hand. "New captives aren't supposed to see anyone. It's a sensitive time, before they've started formal Indoctrination."

"What are you afraid of?" Obi-Wan asked in frustration. "That I'm going to see him and immediately revert back to being a Jedi?"

Bo-Katan tipped her head once in the Mandalorian version of a shrug. "He's meant to be integrating and bonding with his new teachers," she said bluntly. "Seeing you will only reinforce his Jedi identity."

"Not if I'm not a Jedi. You don't understand, this is—" Obi-Wan stopped, realizing he didn't actually know how to explain it.

"It's what?" Bo-Katan said. She glanced down at her datascreen, clearly annoyed with him and wanting to wrap up this conversation.

"Jedi don't have family," Obi-Wan said, knowing how abhorrent that would sound to a Mandalorian. Bo-Katan grimaced. "But padawan and master is the closest relationship we—they have. If I go to him and tell him that there's a different way, that I've chosen a different path..."

Bo-Katan's expression eased like Obi-Wan was finally talking sense. She nodded and stroked her chin. "You think he'll follow you?"

"I know he will."

"And you'll claim him as your child?"

Obi-Wan faltered at that. He'd already done as much in this conversation, but the whole idea would surely seem strange to Anakin.

"We aren't the Jedi," Bo-Katan said impatiently. "If I tell the Indoctrinators that Anakin's former master wants to see him, that won't be enough. But if I say his father wants to see him…" She used the Basic word, father, not buir, like she knew it would make it more real to him.

"Yes, of course," Obi-Wan said. "Of course I will. I know the vows."

"Good." Bo-Katan clapped her hands together and got up. "Let me comm the Indoctrination Center."

They had Anakin in one of the specialized detention cells that Obi-Wan remembered well. There was a one-way viewing screen on the wall which let Obi-Wan see him before they went inside. The room was cozy and homelike with soft furniture and tapestries hanging on the walls. Anakin was standing at the center with his arms crossed as if he was refusing to touch any of the furnishings and risk being comforted by them. Obi-Wan remembered reacting much the same way when he was brought here.

Anakin was still wearing his Jedi robes, although they were torn and stained with blood, likely from the fight that had led to his capture. He'd no doubt refused to change into any of the Mandalorian clothing they had offered him. His hair was longer than it had been a year ago and it fell in loose waves around his face. As Obi-Wan watched, Anakin turned his head, and it became obvious that his padawan braid was gone. Obi-Wan's heart clenched in his chest.

"Your parent is here to see you," the Indoctrinator said as she entered the room ahead of Obi-Wan.

Anakin's face creased in confusion, but then opened up in relief when he saw Obi-Wan walking behind her. "Master!" he said and rushed forward to meet him.

Obi-Wan reached out and caught Anakin by the shoulders. He could feel Anakin's relief as their neglected Force bond flared back to life and emotions flowed between them once again. Anakin wanted to embrace him, but Obi-Wan held him at arm's length so he could look him over. His face was bruised and one eye was blackened. It looked like it had been swollen shut until very recently.

Obi-Wan raised a hand to cup his injured cheek and Anakin flinched slightly.

"It's still tender," Anakin said. "I think I broke something."

"They didn't take you to a healer?" Obi-Wan said in concern.

Anakin shrugged. "I refused to see them."

Obi-Wan pressed his lips together and made an irritated noise at the back of his throat. "And leaving yourself injured helps what exactly?"

"I didn't want them getting in my head," Anakin said. He glanced at the Indoctrinator standing at the door and then back at Obi-Wan. "They're only treating us well because they want us to fall in line."

He was right, of course, but Obi-Wan said nothing. Instead, he reached up to touch Anakin's hair, running his fingers through the long ends of it. He couldn't help a frown even though he was proud. "You made a knight without me."

Anakin looked down, suddenly shy and a bit guilty, like he had betrayed Obi-Wan in this. "The Council decided I was ready. Master Windu stood in for you."

"I'm sorry I wasn't there," Obi-Wan said. He cupped the back of Anakin's head and squeezed his shoulder with his other hand. "Look at you, Jedi Knight Skywalker."

Anakin raised his eyes and smiled at him, but his expression wavered. His presence in the Force was worried and uncomfortable. "What about you?" he asked. "Are you still…"

Anakin looked down at Obi-Wan's clothing, his combat boots and practical pants, and the traditional tunic designed so it could be tucked under armor.

"No, Anakin," Obi-Wan said, blunt but gentle. "I'm no longer a Jedi."

"How—" Anakin shook his head and pulled away from him. "I don't understand, how could you, of all people—"

"No, I wouldn't either if I were in your place," Obi-Wan said. "But you will understand. Soon."

Anakin shook his head again in denial. "Master, whatever they've done to you—"

"I'm not your master anymore, Anakin."

That made Anakin stop and close his mouth. He looked deeply unhappy about it, but he knew Obi-Wan was correct. Whatever Obi-Wan's current status, Anakin was a knight in his own right now and no longer his padawan.

"Have you started your Mando'a lessons?" Obi-Wan asked. He remembered them beginning quite early, language immersion being one of the first parts of the Indoctrination program, but Anakin had only been here a few days.

"Yes," Anakin said and looked away with a sullen expression, reverting to the petulant padawan despite his knighthood.

"Do you know how to introduce yourself?" Obi-Wan asked.

"Yes, ner gai Anakin," he said, irritated and sounding exactly like he used to when Obi-Wan would quiz him about his Jedi lessons. He turned away and made a frustrated gesture. "But I knew that already anyway."

"Hm, and how would you say to know?"

Anakin opened his mouth, but then shook his head. "I haven't learned that yet."

"Kar'taylir," Obi-Wan said, exaggerating the consonants and speaking slowly for him. "Ni kar'tayl for 'I know.' And what about the word for child? You know that one, right?"

"Ad," Anakin said. "That's easy. Like Mando'ade."

"Right," Obi-Wan said. "And have they taught you the vows yet?"

"Like for swearing the Resol'nare?" Anakin rolled his eyes a little and mispronounced the word, putting the stress on the wrong syllable. He sat down heavily on one of the couches and ran his fingers through his hair, pushing it back from his face. "Yes, they talked about that, but they didn't go into the details."

"No, I don't mean those vows," Obi-Wan said. "Well, not exactly. It's related. Mandalorians are very—practical about forming family relationships. There are certain phrases you say to create a partnership. Or adopt a child."

"Sure, like battlefield adoptions," Anakin said, and waved a hand. He was clearly confused why Obi-Wan had changed the subject to this. "Of course, that shows up in holodramas about Mandalorians all the time."

"Hmm." Obi-Wan hadn't been aware of Anakin watching any holodramas while he was a padawan. Maybe that was something Padmé had liked? Such programs tended to be exaggerated and inaccurate, but it was helpful that Anakin was already aware of the general idea.

Obi-Wan glanced at the Indoctrinator at the door. It might be nice to have some privacy for this, but then again it would be useful to have a witness to confirm it had happened. "Anakin, come here."

"What?" Anakin said, but he got up when Obi-Wan beckoned for him.

Obi-Wan took Anakin's shoulders in his hands and adjusted his stance so he was standing squarely in front of him. Obi-Wan stared at him, unable to speak for a moment. Whatever his reasons for doing this, he couldn't help but feel a bit guilty that it was happening now, when Anakin was a full Jedi Knight and an adult, and not when he had been a small, frightened child of nine years old.

"Anakin," Obi-Wan said, raising his voice so the Indoctrinator would be able to hear him too. "Ni kar'tayl gai sa'ad, Anakin Skywalker."

Anakin startled at the words, but didn't pull away when Obi-Wan tugged him in for a hug.

"You're my son, Anakin," Obi-Wan said, speaking into the soft waves of his hair. The words felt awkward in Basic, so he switched into Mando'a, trusting that Anakin would have learned the words for family relationships already. "You're my son. I'm your father."

Anakin trembled in his arms like he was afraid or in pain, but he leaned into his hold and lowered his head until it was resting against Obi-Wan's shoulder. He made a soft, wounded sound. "Master—"

"Nayc, ner ad," Obi-Wan said. No, my child. Why was that so much easier to say in Mando'a?

"Obi-Wa—" Anakin stopped and corrected himself, still speaking into Obi-Wan's shoulder. "Buir."

Obi-Wan stroked Anakin's hair and rocked him in his arms like he was a small boy again. Anakin's breathing was shaky against his shoulder and he gasped as if he was fighting back a sob.

Obi-Wan glanced over at the Indoctrinator to see how she was taking this in and she smiled at him approvingly. Her eyes were bright and she was blinking back unshed tears. Perfect. Now no one would doubt Obi-Wan's relationship to Anakin or his right to see him.

Chapter Text

The head of the Indoctrination Center, Jango Fett, was as inflexible and unyielding as Obi-Wan remembered. He flatly refused to release Anakin to Obi-Wan's custody and could not be convinced to change his mind. Obi-Wan hadn't really been expecting him to do so, but it was frustrating nevertheless.

"I'm not asking to excuse him from the program entirely," Obi-Wan said. "I'll bring him back for training during the day, but there's no reason he can't come home with me at night."

"No," Fett said. "It will set him apart. That wouldn't be good for him or for group cohesion."

Obi-Wan sighed. As frustrated as he was, it was interesting how much Fett was humoring him in this. He had no intention of releasing Anakin, but he was willing to let Obi-Wan argue with him about it. A year ago, whenever Fett had denied him anything it was with a flat "no" and the turning of his back—generally right before an indoctrinator gave Obi-Wan a painful reminder of the importance of obeying authority.

Similarly, that morning, Bo-Katan had been surprisingly understanding once he got through to her. And when he'd arrived at the Center, the indoctrinators he remembered as strict disciplinarians had all acted strangely kind and supportive. The one who'd been in the room with them when Obi-Wan adopted Anakin had been very chatty afterward. She'd been eager to assure Obi-Wan that his son would be safe under her watch and tried to prove it by telling him all about her three children while he waited to see Fett.

"But the captives don't even see each other at night!" Obi-Wan said to Fett as he threw his hands up in frustration. "They're all locked in separate cells."

"Recruits," Fett said. "No one is held here against their will."

"Right," Obi-Wan said, fighting back a sarcastic remark. That was only true on a technicality since being held in the Indoctrination Center was far better than the alternatives of hard labor or summary execution.

"He can go home to you after he's completed the program," Fett said. "It's good that he already has family waiting for him, but he's not a Mandalorian yet."

Obi-Wan took a breath and decided it was time for another tactic. So far, he'd tried being reasonable, deferential, and wheedling in turn, but now he attempted shameless, desperate pleading. "Fett, director, it could take him months to finish. I haven't seen Anakin in a year. He probably thought I was dead for most of that. Let me have my son."

"You can come visit him in the evenings," Fett said, his expression remaining in the same bland mask of polite interest. "But only as long as it doesn't affect his education."

Obi-Wan made an irritated noise and got up.

"Will you return tomorrow then?" Fett asked as Obi-Wan stomped out of his office.

"Yes!" Obi-Wan shouted back. "But first I'm going above your head!"

"The Mand'alor will say the same thing," Fett replied, unruffled.

He was right, Bo-Katan did say much the same thing when Obi-Wan stormed into her office for the second time in one day. She refused to overrule Fett and told Obi-Wan that Anakin would have to go through the Indoctrination process just like all the other "recruits."

Obi-Wan was tempted to do something properly Mandalorian like kick over her desk in anger but managed to restrain himself from such a childish and unproductive display.

Bo-Katan was very patient with him and once again Obi-Wan was struck by how differently other Mandalorians were treating him now. Adopting Anakin had made him seem less strange to them and more relatable. In the past, Obi-Wan's distaste for the methods of the Indoctrination Center had been cause for suspicion, but no one had called his loyalty into question today. Now, instead of a former religious zealot with odd moral hangups, he came across as a concerned father with understandable fears. Abstract moral qualms about abusing prisoners of war didn't register with them, but it was only natural that a parent would want to take his child home.

It was dark by the time Obi-Wan left Bo-Katan after she made several pointed hints about how late it was getting and that she needed to wrap up her work and head home.

Obi-Wan went back to his apartment alone in defeat. It was after the evening meal by then. It was around the time that would be lights out back at the Indoctrination Center. Anakin was probably alone in his cell right now preparing for sleep.

The communal cafeteria on the ground floor of his building was closed, but up in his room Obi-Wan had some cold noodles leftover in the conservator. As he ate, he looked around his apartment and reflected that he was going to have to make some changes before Anakin could come live with him. Obi-Wan had been assigned one of the small efficiency apartments that suited single warriors. His only furniture was a low table to eat at, cushions to sit on, and a futon on the floor to sleep on. The room had a basic kitchenette, but it was assumed that he would eat most of his meals at the cafeteria.

Nearly everyone in the building was unattached like Obi-Wan was and most were recruits of one kind or another—either former enemies who'd been indoctrinated or people who wanted to join the Children of Mandalore for their own reasons. Obi-Wan knew of a few neighbors who were cohabiting or had a child, but generally people moved out of the building once their families got bigger than two people.

It was a bit lonely, especially compared to life at the Temple, but Obi-Wan needed to have his own space. Living in the more communal, barrack-style accommodations that were also available for new recruits was out of the question.

Of course, if he had been born a Mandalorian, Obi-Wan would have lived with his clan in a sprawling home that contained his entire extended family and all of their retainers. He knew of a few recruits from his Indoctrination class who had been adopted into established clans, but no one Obi-Wan had met since he graduated had been eager to embrace a former Jedi as family.

Chapter Text

The communal cafeteria was busy that morning, and Obi-Wan barely had time to get himself a cup of caf before he was called over to one of the long tables.

It was Reg Syko who was calling for him, the man waving a hand in the air and yelling Obi-Wan's name so loudly that everyone in the cafeteria must have heard it. Obi-Wan couldn't help but notice the keen uptick in interest directed toward him from the entire room.

"You've been holding out on us," Reg said as Obi-Wan approached.

"Sorry?" Obi-Wan said and came to stand at the head of the table. He took a sip from his cup of caf.

Reg was seated with a small group of friends, but the entire long table seemed to be sneaking glances at Obi-Wan. Reg had been part of the same group of recruits as Obi-Wan at the Indoctrination Center. He was a gregarious and friendly human who made it his business to know everyone else's business. A useful man to know, but somewhat irritating when you had had a restless night and just wanted to drink your caf in peace.

"Why didn't you tell us you were a parent?" Reg asked. He was joking, but Obi-Wan sensed a trace of actual hurt from him. Obi-Wan had been told many times before that he was too standoffish with his brothers. He'd never quite shed the habitual reserve that came from years spent as a commander in wartime and a lifetime as a Jedi.

"I told you about Anakin," Obi-Wan protested. "He was almost captured with me, remember? I'm sure I told you the story."

"Ohh," Reg said. "Your student, right?"

"Padawan," Obi-Wan said and took a sip of his caf.

"What story?" asked Berav, the Mirialan woman sitting across the table from Reg. Obi-Wan only knew her in passing and wasn't entirely sure if Berav was a personal name or a clan or family one.

"He was with me when I was captured," Obi-Wan explained. "But Anakin got away because the boarding party didn't check the torpedo hatch. He was able to use the launch tube to get outside the ship and around to an escape pod."

"A clever lad!" said Berav. "Very mandokar," she added, using the word which indicated someone with a strong Mandalorian spirit.

"Hm, maybe," Obi-Wan said doubtfully. "Or Jetiikar, more like."

Reg made a disgusted noise and the rest of the table laughed.

"It's because he had you for a parent," said Vaudom Piev, who was sitting next to Berav. He was another one of the recruits from Obi-Wan's own Indoctrination class. "The most mandokar Jedi of them all."

Obi-Wan smiled as the others laughed, but made no comment.

"When will we get to meet him?" Reg asked.

Obi-Wan's smile faded. "Not until he finishes Indoctrination. Fett wouldn't let me take him out of the Center, not even for a few hours."

A chorus of noises of disappointment and sympathy followed.

"Fett's a stickler."

"Aye."

"Not even for a rest day at the end of the week?" Berav asked.

"Recruits don't get rest days," Vaudom said. "It's Indoctrination all day, every day until you're done."

Reg got up, holding his tray in one hand, and patted Obi-Wan on the shoulder with the other. "It's for the best," he said. "He'll be confused now, like we all were, but once he's done with the program, he can come home to you as a proper warrior."

"I suppose," Obi-Wan said.

Fett was waiting for Obi-Wan when he arrived at the Indoctrination Center that evening. The man looked more grim than usual, which immediately put Obi-Wan on guard.

"Good evening," Obi-Wan said. "...is something wrong?"

He was afraid Fett was going to tell him that he couldn't see Anakin again after all; but instead, Fett grimaced in irritation and waved for Obi-Wan to follow him as he started down the corridor. "There was a minor incident. I wanted to warn you so you don't overreact."

"What sort of incident?" Obi-Wan demanded.

"Nothing unusual," Fett said, looking away from him as they walked side by side. "It's early in the training cycle and emotions are high. It's natural for a few skirmishes to break out."

"Skirmishes!?"

"An Indoctrinator was in the room and broke it up before it got out of hand," Fett said.

"Broke up what? A fight!?"

They'd reached the corridor with the visiting cells where Obi-Wan had seen Anakin yesterday. Instead of answering his question, Fett went up to a door and waved his hand over the panel to open it.

Anakin was inside, sitting on one of the couches in a resentful hunch. There were new bruises on the left side of his face, overlaying the older injuries that Obi-Wan had seen yesterday. His fading black eye had been rekindled and was now a vivid red and purple color. There was a bacta patch on the side of his face over his previously fractured cheekbone and another, smaller one on his mouth where his lip was split.

"What happened!?" Obi-Wan said, switching into Basic so Anakin would understand them. He turned to Fett. "You consider that minor? He looks like he got hit in the face with a club!"

"It was a chair leg," Anakin said.

"A what—?" Obi-Wan sputtered.

"There's no permanent damage," Fett said, doggedly continuing to speak in Mando'a and doing so in a deliberately calm tone of voice as if Obi-Wan was being irrational. "If you'd arrived an hour later the bacta would have already healed it."

"But a chair leg?!" Obi-Wan said. He meant to continue in Basic, but he felt too flustered to keep switching between languages. In Mando'a, he said, "Are you having discipline issues, Fett? I don't remember things being so lax here a year ago!"

Fett's jaw flexed like he was grinding his teeth. "Fights happen," he said. "It's unfortunate this escalated, but they were separated before serious damage was done."

Obi-Wan tisked and turned away from Fett to sit next to Anakin. He tilted Anakin's chin up to examine him. The bruise ran perpendicular from his cheekbone and down to his lip in an almost perfectly straight line, revealing the outline of the object that had hit him. Obi-Wan made an angry noise in the back of his throat but tamped down his urge to keep shouting at Fett. Arguing with him was pointless. As the director of the Indoctrination Center, Fett was never going to let Anakin out until he was fully ready to join Mandalorian society, but Obi-Wan might be able to use this incident when he went back to argue with Kryze again.

"Other matters require my attention," Fett said. "I'll leave you to tend to him." He used a verb for "tending" or "caring" that had a double-edged meaning; it also referred to the sound made by an egg-laying, domesticated bird on Mandalore.

"Yes, yes, go on," Obi-Wan said, waving a hand at him without looking.

As soon as the door shut behind Fett, Obi-Wan looked Anakin up and down and said, "What was this fight about?"

Anakin rolled his eyes. "Nothing. Some of the others being held here don't like me and they've been very... pointed about it. I thought if I punched one of them then that would put a stop to it."

"So you punched someone and then they managed to hit you with a chair leg?" Obi-Wan said.

"A chair, really," Anakin said. "He picked the whole thing up." He rubbed the back of his head and sighed. "He never would have managed to hit me, but my head is so fuzzy from the drugs."

"Hm, they do go a bit overboard early on," Obi-Wan said sympathetically. "Once you're further along in the program they ease off somewhat and they stop entirely when they decide they can trust you."

"Is that why you went along with it?" Anakin asked. "To get off the drugs?"

Obi-Wan chose to ignore the question. "Why doesn't this other recruit like you? Have you been antagonizing someone?"

"No!" Anakin said, indignant. "Some of the other students were captured from the Sith Empire and they aren't disposed to like the only Jedi knight in our class." He used a deep tone of sarcasm for the last word. "And I guess some rumors got around after yesterday."

"Are they Sith?" Obi-Wan asked. He realized how lucky he had been that everyone in his class had been either from the Republic or a non-aligned system.

"How would I know!?" Anakin said and angrily gestured at his head. Obi-Wan gave him a look and he sighed. "No, at least, I don't think so. Even if I can't get a read off of them, I haven't noticed any of them using Force abilities. And I'm pretty sure I'm the only one in my class being jabbed with a hypo-syringe every morning.

That was a relief at least. "What did you mean about rumors?"

"Uh..." Anakin shrugged and looked sheepish as he scratched the back of his neck. "You know how it is in this sort of place. Stories travel fast."

Obi-Wan did know. In the enclosed, high-pressure environment at the Center, recruits spent most of their time either bored or scared. Gossiping was both a release valve and a survival skill for them.

"But what kind of stories?" Obi-Wan said in confusion. Anakin had only been here a few days; what could have possibly happened to cause rumors to spread about him?

Anakin tilted his head and shot him an incredulous look. "Like the fact that I have a Mandalorian father who's trying to get me special treatment?"

"Oh…"

Anakin rolled his eyes. "Yeah, now even the ones that didn't already dislike me for being a Jedi think I'm a plant."

Obi-Wan made a frustrated noise. "The Indoctrinators shouldn't have let the other recruits find out about that. I'll complain to Fett."

"It doesn't matter now," Anakin said. "Someone blabbed and now everyone knows."

Obi-Wan winced. "I'm sorry."

"And don't try to twist Fett's arm," Anakin added. "The guards are already acting differently around me and that's bad enough. If Fett acts strangely too, that will just confirm everything the others already believe."

"All right," Obi-Wan said reluctantly. "I can see the wisdom in that. I suppose." There was an awkward pause while Obi-Wan searched for a change in topic. There was very little to talk about aside from the Indoctrination itself. "How is everything else going? Have they started the cultural training yet?"

Anakin shook his head. "No, almost no one in my 'class' knows any Mando'a yet. The instructors are still using Basic with us, but they said in another week or two they'll stop."

Obi-Wan nodded. "It gets less monotonous after that."

Anakin sighed and scrubbed his hand over his face. "It's not so bad… at least it might be useful to know Mando'a someday and I'd never get the chance to learn from native speakers otherwise…"

Obi-Wan had had similar thoughts when he first arrived at the Indoctrination Center. He had already been conversant in Mando'a before this, but being fully fluent in an enemy's language was useful for so many reasons.

Anakin leaned forward, nearly folding himself in half, and pressed his fingers against his forehead. "But these drugs are killing me. I can barely think."

"I know," Obi-Wan said and put his hand on his back. "The side effects do get better eventually."

"I don't know how they expect me to learn like this," Anakin said and groaned. "I can barely remember my own name."

"Try to just absorb it for now," Obi-Wan said. "You already know some of the vocabulary."

"Not enough," Anakin grumbled. "At least the grammar is easy so far, but I hate being treated like a child." He raised his head and stuck out his lip in a pout. "I feel like I'm a youngling at the Temple again. We can't even go to the bathroom without asking permission and having an escort."

Obi-Wan made a sympathetic noise. Anakin had been miserable when he'd had to attend group trainings as a child. The Council had thought it would be beneficial for him to complete the basic initiate classes as part of his apprenticeship, but that meant he was older than all of the other younglings at his same level. Anakin had struggled with feeling like he didn't belong with the other initiates who had all grown up together at the Temple. He'd also never been in an institutional educational setting before and had some issues learning how to behave in class. The whole experience had felt like a punishment to him and he'd constantly begged Obi-Wan not to make him go. At the time, Obi-Wan had known it was better for Anakin to learn from other Jedi and to get to know his peers, but he'd still found excuses to pull him out of the Temple and go on trips whenever he could.

History was repeating itself. Once again, Anakin hated his coursework and Obi-Wan was trying to find a way to get him out of it.

"Maybe we should practice together," Obi-Wan suggested and then repeated the same in Mando'a.

Anakin groaned. "No, nayc," he said, contradictorily. "My head is in a fog. I can barely string words together in Basic."

"All right," Obi-Wan said, having mercy on him. "When you're feeling better."

Anakin moaned like he doubted he would ever feel better again. He pressed his fist against his forehead and rubbed his knuckles in a circle while his face scrunched in pain.

If anything else had been causing it, Obi-Wan would have soothed him in the Force, but Anakin wouldn't even be able to feel his presence now. Instead, Obi-Wan shifted closer to take Anakin's head in his hands. "Here, let me help."

Anakin dropped his fist and leaned closer as Obi-Wan massaged his temples with his thumbs. Anakin made a pained noise and then sighed as his shoulders dropped and some of the tension left him. Obi-Wan remembered the muffled, painful feeling of the force-inhibiting drugs very well. The headaches it caused weren't a direct side effect of the drugs themselves, but rather a result of repeatedly trying to reach out into the Force and sensing nothing.

Anakin moved suddenly and shifted around on the couch. Obi-Wan let go of him, thinking he was trying to pull away, but instead Anakin laid down on his side and put his head in Obi-Wan's lap.

Slightly startled, Obi-Wan held his hands up in the air. Anakin didn't seem to notice his surprise as he settled down. He let out a comfortable sigh and closed his eyes. After a moment, Obi-Wan lowered his hands, laying one on Anakin's shoulder and the other on his forehead as he resumed massaging his temples.

Chapter Text

Obi-Wan returned to the Indoctrination Center each night to visit Anakin and they began to develop a comfortable pattern, strange as the whole situation was.

If Jango Fett was around when he arrived, Obi-Wan would complain to him about Anakin's treatment. If not, then he'd talk to the other indoctrinators and try to get any details he could about conditions inside the Center. Several of them had grown friendly with him and would share stories from the day's sessions. Obi-Wan was always alert for any mentions of tensions among the recruits, but he got the sense that the indoctrinators were cherry-picking anecdotes to give him a rosier picture than was entirely accurate.

Neeshik, a male Rhodian of short stature, was one of the chattiest of the bunch and today was no exception. "Your son is one of the best speakers in the class," he told Obi-Wan as he escorted him along the corridor. "Don't you think, Zena?"

Zena nodded. "Oh, the best, I'd say. He's a fast learner." She was the indoctrinator who'd been present when Obi-Wan had adopted Anakin and she'd clearly developed a soft spot for the both of them.

"He's bright," Obi-Wan said, before hedging, "but schooling has always been difficult for him, and he's not always... good with authority."

Both indoctrinators laughed at that and Zena said, "That's true, but it's all right. He's strong willed with a good spirit. He's already Mandalorian at heart."

Obi-Wan smiled politely.

Anakin was waiting for him in the same visiting cell as usual. He raised his head and his expression brightened as soon as Obi-Wan entered. His face was completely healed by now, but Obi-Wan still found himself looking him over closely. He was always a bit nervous each day that he might arrive and find Anakin with fresh injuries.

Anakin got up and hugged Obi-Wan, a greeting which had also become a habit, albeit one that still mildly surprised Obi-Wan each time he did it.

The Force-suppressing drugs made interacting with Anakin somewhat strange. Obi-Wan could get a muted sense of his emotions through their bond, but Anakin couldn't sense Obi-Wan at all. The result was that they were often out of step with one another. Anakin also couldn't feel how much or how strongly his own mind was projecting and he would occasionally release a wave of emotion that was blindingly loud. Obi-Wan was able to handle it since he was used to the intense strength of Anakin's feelings, but to any other Force-sensitive it would have been painful.

"How are your lessons going?" Obi-Wan asked after they sat down.

Anakin sighed and rolled his head back on the couch. "Dush," he said in an exhausted tone. Bad.

"Make it a sentence," Obi-Wan said. He quizzed Anakin each night and made sure they spent at least a little bit of time speaking Mando'a. It annoyed Anakin, especially now that the full-immersion part of the program had started and he clearly wanted a break from Mando'a, but Obi-Wan enjoyed gauging his progress. By the end of the second week his vocabulary had expanded enormously and he was able to construct more complicated sentences, albeit with difficulty and a lot of pauses and corrections.

Anakin sighed again and paused before attempting in Mando'a, "My lesson is bad."

"Did you only have one lesson?"

"Lessons," Anakin said in irritation. "My lessons are bad.

"Very good," Obi-Wan said. "Although you wouldn't actually say cuyir normally. It's obvious in context what the verb is."

Anakin made a face. "Ni aala..." I feel... He paused and blinked heavily as if he'd almost nodded off before continuing, "all of my lessons... are to learn and then—to not learn words."

"Digur?" Obi-Wan suggested. "That's to forget."

"Elek!" Anakin said and Obi-Wan felt a flash of hot anger from him as he continued in Basic, "yes! They're constantly teaching us new words and then telling us not to ever use them!"

Obi-Wan laughed. It was true and he remembered the frustration when he'd carefully put a sentence together in Mando'a only to be told that four out of ten words didn't need to be spoken.

"When you start reading and writing it will make more sense," he promised. "They have to teach you the proper grammar first so you can tell what words can be safely dropped. The fact that you say words a native speaker would leave unsaid will be the biggest tell that you're an ashi'vod," he said, using the Mandalorian term that indicated both someone who hadn't grown up Mandalorian and a second-language speaker, other brother. "That and your accent."

"Ni or'parguu bic," Anakin said. I hate it had quickly become one of his favorite phrases in Mando'a. He often slurred it into a single word, norparguuic, which made him sound like a proper Mandalorian teenager. Not that Obi-Wan would tell him that.

"Your pronunciation is improving."

"No, it isn't." Anakin said and slumped backward on the couch. He closed his eyes and listed sideways until his head was against Obi-Wan's shoulder.

Obi-Wan moved his arm so Anakin was tucked against his side as he drifted off. He'd fallen asleep yesterday evening as well and Obi-Wan had let him rest. At this point in the program, Anakin was likely only getting 4-5 hours of sleep per night and spending 16 hours a day in training.

Sleep deprivation and overwork were a purposeful part of Indoctrination. Obi-Wan felt it was counter to the educational aspects of the program—tired people didn't learn as quickly as well-rested ones—but the exhaustion served the more important goal of breaking down a person's will. Imperfect Mando'a was considered an acceptable outcome so long as the person who spoke it was loyal to the Empire.

Anakin yawned and stretched, turning his face into Obi-Wan's shoulder as he took a deep breath. He'd been very physically affectionate ever since their reunion and Obi-Wan wasn't entirely sure what to make of it. Most likely it was a stress response to being held captive and Obi-Wan being the only safe person he could turn to for reassurance. Or maybe it was only because they had been separated for over a year and Anakin had missed him.

Still, it reminded Obi-Wan of when Anakin was a child and he would suddenly hug Obi-Wan without warning or plop down in his lap while he was meditating. It was almost as if Anakin was regressing back to childhood with him. Maybe Anakin simply thought that fathers and sons touched more? He'd quickly taken to calling Obi-Wan Buir, at first with a heavy layer of irony like this was all a strange joke, but increasingly in an unselfconscious way.

When Obi-Wan had first taken him on as an apprentice, Anakin had started out wary and uncertain of him but quickly become an affectionate, almost clingy child. At first, he'd always been holding Obi-Wan's hand or hanging onto his robes when they went anywhere. After any short separation, he would throw himself at Obi-Wan like he thought maybe his master wasn't going to come back to get him. Considering that Qui-Gon had been killed within days of meeting him, Obi-Wan couldn't blame Anakin for assuming that the other Jedi around him might abruptly drop dead as well.

As he'd gotten older, Anakin had reached for Obi-Wan less often. Obi-Wan had interpreted that as him getting more confident and secure in his place as part of the Jedi, but what if it was actually Anakin learning that such gestures weren't allowed? Obi-Wan was somewhat uncomfortable with most forms of physical affection, but he'd thought he'd done a decent enough job of hiding that from Anakin. He'd stiffened up in surprise the first few times Anakin had grabbed his hand or wanted to hug him, but Obi-Wan had quickly adjusted to life with a nine-year-old child and the violations of personal space that came with it.

Qui-Gon had been a warm and caring master—always ready with a hand on Obi-Wan's shoulder or a guiding touch on his back—and Obi-Wan had tried to copy his example. It occurred to him now that what had seemed like an effusion of touch to Obi-Wan might have felt like a barren wasteland to a child who didn't grow up in a Jedi Temple.

Certainly a Mandalorian wouldn't have approved of the way Obi-Wan had been raised or the amount of affection he'd received from his caregivers, but Obi-Wan had never felt unloved as a boy (or as an adult for that matter). When he was a child, every single person he'd met had been involved to some degree in his upbringing and he'd always felt an easy confidence even with unfamiliar Jedi. The outside world had its dangers, but inside the Temple he was safe and surrounded by people who loved him even if they didn't know him personally. Not that every Jedi was good with children, far from it, but Obi-Wan had always been able to sense their care for him even if it was only in the form of an abstract concern for the future of the Order.

Obi-Wan's thoughts were interrupted when the door to the visiting room opened and Neeshik looked in on them.

"Is it that time already?" Obi-Wan asked.

"Five minutes," Neeshik said and went back out so they could say their goodbyes in private—or relative private. Anyone in the corridor would be able to see inside through the one-way viewscreen on the wall.

Obi-Wan nudged Anakin with his shoulder and he made an unhappy noise in response. "Wake up, little one," he said in Mando'a. Anakin groaned and refused to open his eyes so Obi-Wan repeated "wake up" and gave him a shake. Anakin made another unhappy noise, but finally sat up and rubbed his eyes.

It was still so much easier to be verbally affectionate and to use familial terms in Mando'a. When they practiced, it felt natural to use endearments that would have been too embarrassing to even consider in Basic. Anakin was entirely unfazed by cyar'ika (darling/sweetheart) or ad'ika (child/little one) or other diminutives of the 'ika variety, but he did have his limits.

"Good night, An'ika," Obi-Wan said and Anakin pulled a face.

"No," he said and shook his head firmly.

"What? What's wrong, little one?" Obi-Wan said and laughed at Anakin's expression. "My sweet An'ika."

"Absolutely not," Anakin said in Basic. "You cannot call me that."

"Oh, I think it's cute!" Obi-Wan said, relenting and using Basic as well.

"That's the sort of name you'd call a baby!" Anakin protested.

"Mandalorian parents are very affectionate even beyond infancy, I assure you," Obi-Wan said. "I've seen full-grown warriors called much worse things by their parents—and in public!"

"Buir, I am in prison," Anakin said. "If anyone else hears you call me that my life will be hell."

"You're not in prison," Obi-Wan said, although he probably should have ignored it.

Anakin curled his lip in disbelief. "What else would you call it?"

"You're not being held as punishment for a crime," Obi-Wan said. "It's internment, not prison."

Anakin stared at him for a long moment before saying, "You've been here too long."

Obi-Wan grimaced. "I just mean… it's better not to think of it as a punishment. It'll be easier for you if you don't."

Neeshik came back then to escort Anakin away. Obi-Wan was left feeling unsettled as he departed the Indoctrination Center and returned to his empty apartment.

Chapter Text

Anakin was in a dark mood the following night when Obi-Wan returned. Before he even entered the visiting room, Obi-Wan could see him pacing around in circles like he was too worked up to sit down.

"It's not fair," Anakin announced the moment the guards let Obi-Wan inside.

"What's not fair?" Obi-Wan said, trying to keep his voice mild.

"Everything!" Anakin said and made an expansive gesture. "This whole place, the whole rotten planet."

Obi-Wan took a seat on one of the couches. It was never a good sign when Anakin was on a tear like this. "What happened?"

Anakin scowled at him. "I pissed off Instructor Sors and he threatened to cancel our visits if I did it again."

"What?" Obi-Wan leaned forward. "Why? What did you do?"

"Nothing!" Anakin snapped. "I hate this place. They're such hypocrites."

"Did you talk back to him?" Obi-Wan asked with some concern. He'd always given Anakin a lot of leeway as a padawan, but indoctrinators didn't take insubordination lightly.

"No!" Anakin said, his voice rising to a near shout. "He said some stupid things about the Jedi and I was correcting his misinformation. He's a teacher, he shouldn't be spouting outright lies."

"Lies?" Obi-Wan repeated.

"You know," Anakin said and waved a hand in frustration. "Stupid Separatist propaganda about baby stealing."

Obi-Wan made a sympathetic noise. That particular bit of slander against the Order was unfortunately widespread on Mandalore. Still, Obi-Wan was sure that the instructor would have a different story about this exchange if he asked for his side of it. He also suspected that the man had been making empty threats about preventing Anakin from seeing Obi-Wan, but he made a mental note to bring it up with Fett later.

Anakin was still pacing around the room in a huff. Obi-Wan knew from experience that if he let Anakin continue to rant he'd just get himself more and more worked up.

"Come over here," he said and patted the spot next to him on the couch.

Anakin stopped pacing but he didn't sit down. He stood in front of Obi-Wan and crossed his arms over his chest. "I tried to tell him that I wasn't a baby when I joined the Order, that I chose it, but he wouldn't listen to me. He just shouted me down."

Obi-Wan sighed. He'd had similar exchanges with Mandalorians who assumed that he'd been stolen from his parents as a baby rather than given willingly and who refused to hear otherwise. "I know it's frustrating, but you're not going to be able to change his mind if he's set in his prejudices."

"Stupid wermo," Anakin grumbled.

"Forget about him for now," Obi-Wan said. Anakin snorted like that was easier said than done, but Obi-Wan persisted. "Come on, sit down and lets talk about something else. We get so little time together."

"What else is there to talk about?" Anakin said and stayed standing. "All I do here is spend all day getting lectured by smug Mandalorians about how much better the Empire is than everywhere else."

"So let's talk about what you were doing before all this," Obi-Wan said. "You've still barely told me anything about the past year."

Anakin frowned and his arms tightened across his chest. "There isn't much I can tell you."

He was still being so scrupulous about not accidentally revealing any Republic secrets. It was admirable, but Obi-Wan needed to get him past it.

"Well, why don't I tell you what I know then," Obi-Wan said. "The last intel I saw was that you and the 212th were part of the Republic forces trying to retake Ryloth." That actually wasn't true, Anakin had been mentioned in more recent reports, but the blockade on Ryloth had ended months ago and he was more likely to be willing to talk about that than any ongoing campaign.

Anakin finally took a seat next to him. "Yes," he admitted. "That's true, we were."

"Were you given command of the 212th then?" Obi-Wan asked. "I assume you're a general now."

Anakin hesitated. "I—no, not on Ryloth. I hadn't been knighted yet so I was only a commander then. Master Windu was the general in charge during the campaign."

"Ah, I see," Obi-Wan said. It would have been more usual for Anakin to join Mace and fight with his unit rather than leading a clone battalion on his own, but perhaps they'd needed the extra men. "In any event, I was glad to hear that you were still with them."

At least Cody had been able to keep an eye on Anakin for a time, although having Anakin in command must have been trying for him.

"I was too," Anakin said after a moment's hesitation. "That was good... at least, at first—when you were first captured, I mean." He stopped, hesitating again, probably over whether or not to tell Obi-Wan that he wasn't with the 212th any longer. The last Obi-Wan had seen, General Kahdah was commanding them on Geonosis.

"I was relieved to hear that Master Windu took over your training," Obi-Wan said. Relieved and a little surprised given Mace's early misgivings about Anakin and the tension that had often been evident between the two of them. It was also out of the ordinary for someone on the High Council to take on an apprentice, but it was an unusual time and Anakin was an unusual padawan.

Anakin frowned and his eyes darted away as if Obi-Wan had caught him in a lie. "Actually, he… he didn't," he said and bit his lip. "Not formally."

Obi-Wan looked at him sharply. "I thought you said he knighted you?"

Anakin kept his eyes down, staring at his lap. He was silent for a long moment and his presence in the Force dimmed as if he was closing himself off deliberately. Obi-Wan waited him out, knowing Anakin couldn't leave long silences unfilled.

Anakin let out a sigh. "I shouldn't tell you."

"Tell me what?" Obi-Wan leaned forward. "Anakin, anything you know about the GAR's forces will be outdated by now and it's not like the Empire and the Republic are in direct conflict. We're keeping tabs on the war, but the Republic's internal conflicts are of much less concern than our mutual problems with the Sith."

Anakin nodded and swallowed. He took a deep breath and let it out shakily as if he was struggling to get control over his emotions. Gradually, his breathing slowed, but Obi-Wan could still feel a great deal of tension inside of him. It was suppressed, but not extinguished.

Sensing that Anakin would answer him now, Obi-Wan said, "If General Windu wasn't your master, then who was?"

With his eyes averted and his tone neutral, Anakin said, "The Council has stopped reassigning padawans after their masters die."

Obi-Wan closed his eyes and inhaled sharply through his nose. He hadn't realized it had gotten that bad. "So you didn't have anyone...?"

"No," Anakin said. He finally looked up at Obi-Wan, but he kept speaking in that detached, neutral tone. "Unassigned padawans are being put in small groups instead or knighted immediately if they're old enough."

"Force," Obi-Wan whispered.

"They still waited a few months for me," Anakin said, resentment visible on his face for a moment before his cold facade returned. "But I had enough combat experience for them to keep me in command of the 212th and eventually I was too old to put it off any longer."

"Too old?" Obi-Wan said. "You're only nineteen."

"I'm twenty," Anakin said.

Obi-Wan winced and put his hand to his face. "Right, of course you are. I missed your birthday."

Anakin smiled ever so slightly. "It's okay, I didn't do much to celebrate this year."

"Still," Obi-Wan said, dropping his hand. "I was a padawan until I was twenty-five, and I would have been longer if Qui-Gon hadn't been killed. You should have had another five to ten years of training before you were knighted."

Anakin shrugged. "The Order wasn't at war then," he said simply. "Things have changed. Although I'm pretty sure they only promoted me because they didn't have enough generals and there were… they had missions that needed handling."

"Missions?" Obi-Wan said.

Anakin shook his head and didn't elaborate. Obi-Wan kept silent, but he had a bad feeling about these "missions." He didn't like the thought of Anakin, bereft of a master, being knighted out of expediency and immediately sent into danger.

"Oh, that reminds me." Anakin's face eased as he found a way to change the subject. "I meant to ask—do they destroy captives' belongings or do they keep them somewhere?"

Obi-Wan blinked at him, wondering what had inspired this. "They keep them," he said. "You'll get everything you had on you back when you're finished, assuming you still want any of it. Some people prefer to discard the items from their old life."

"You should ask to see mine then," Anakin said. "I had something I was hanging onto for you."

"Oh?" Obi-Wan said. "What is it?"

Anakin shook his head. "You'll see."

Chapter Text

"His lightsaber was confiscated by the imperial armory," Fett said as he led Obi-Wan into the storage room. "If that's what you're looking for."

Obi-Wan laughed. "No, I'm not sure what it is exactly, but he said there was something he wanted me to have."

There were rows of compact shelving in the storage room stacked with bins containing the recruits' clothing. Fett consulted a datascreen and typed in a command which caused the shelves to move and rearrange themselves. One of the shelves rolled out in front of them and a light switched on above the bin that belonged to Anakin.

Obi-Wan set the bin down on an empty shelf and opened it up to sort through the contents. Fett watched carefully over his shoulder like he thought it might contain contraband despite the contents already having been searched and cataloged when Anakin was captured.

There wasn't much in the bin. Some GAR rations, Anakin's belt and tabards, and a few items that must have been in his pockets when he was captured. There was a credit chip, a blaster canister, and a small, drawstring cloth bag. Obi-Wan picked up the bag, which seemed to be the only personal item in the whole collection. He realized what was in it as soon as he felt how light it was.

He opened the bag and pulled out the lock of hair. It was braided in the style used by padawans who were nearing maturation and there were three red and blue bands tied at various points. The cut end was singed in a perfectly straight line where it had been severed.

"Oh, Anakin," Obi-Wan said. He touched the braid to his face as he closed his eyes. How many times had he sat Anakin down as a boy and braided this same lock of hair after it came loose?

"Is that human hair?" Fett asked.

Obi-Wan glanced over at him and saw that Fett's lip was raised in disgust. Obi-Wan laughed and held the braid out by one end so he could see it better. "It's his padawan braid. It gets cut off in the knighting ceremony. He must have been hanging onto it all this time."

"What are you supposed to do with it?" Fett asked dubiously.

Obi-Wan tucked the braid back into the bag. "It's a memento. Didn't you keep your son's baby teeth or anything like that?"

"No!" Fett said. "Why would I keep his lost body parts? Those should be disposed of as medical waste."

Obi-Wan shook his head. "Why indeed," he said with a laugh, and put the bag in his pocket.

"Now," he said turning to Fett. "I need to talk to you about this instructor Sors and why he has it out for my son."

Fett sighed deeply. "Sors is a good teacher and an excellent indoctrinator. If your son behaved, he wouldn't have a problem with him."

Obi-Wan narrowed his eyes. "He told Anakin he might not be allowed to see me."

Fett's face remained impassive. "The indoctrinators can take disciplinary actions as they see fit and restricting visiting privileges is an appropriate punishment for mouthing off in class."

"Was he actually mouthing off?" Obi-Wan asked. "Or was he pointing out his instructor was wrong about something?"

Fett raised one eyebrow. "From what I understand, the issue wasn't the correction but the part where he called Sors a stupid shabuir."

Obi-Wan winced. Anakin had probably overheard the term and hadn't realized just how incredibly offensive an insult it was.

"But what was said doesn't really matter," Fett continued. "What matters is that recruits learn discipline and respect."

"Injustice isn't discipline," Obi-Wan said. "He's never going to accept Indoctrination if he feels like he's being treated unfairly."

"When he stops acting out and has earned our trust, then he'll be treated better," Fett said. He went to the door and waited until Obi-Wan had joined him before he switched out the lights in the storage room. "That's how this works. You know that."

"Hm." Obi-Wan did know that, but he was afraid it was a bargain that Anakin might not be willing to accept.

After he left the Center, Obi-Wan went straight to the main government building. He'd been such a frequent visitor to the Mand'alor's office lately that the guards barely blinked at him when he walked past.

"I don't have time to argue with you right now," Kryze said as soon as he walked into her office. She was watching a prerecorded hologram from a man who Obi-Wan recognized as one of the Mandalorian Navy's admirals. He seemed to be reporting on Sith activity along the Empire's borders. "Fett has final say on whether or not recruits are ready for release."

"I'm not here to argue about Anakin—well, not only that," Obi-Wan amended. "I have intel, Mand'alor."

She hit a button and paused the hologram. "Yes?"

Obi-Wan rested his hands on her desk as he leaned forward. "The Jedi Order is on the verge of collapse."

She didn't appear surprised, but she switched the hologram off completely to focus on him. She folded her arms and leaned back in her chair. "Did your son tell you that?"

"Not in so many words, but yes."

She nodded. "The Intelligence Bureau has come to similar conclusions. Our estimates are that they're down to less than 300 active warriors."

Obi-Wan took a quick breath. "Does that include knights and master Jedi?"

"Yes."

He sat down in the chair in front of her desk as he considered the implications. "That's... not good. The generals must be stretched incredibly thin."

Kryze nodded. "They appear to be doubling and tripling up clone legions under single generals, but we've had reports of whole armies without a Jedi in sight. We believe the Republic has started taking direct command over many parts of the GAR."

"Yes, that fits with what Anakin told me," Obi-Wan said. "Before I left, they had already started promoting inexperienced knights who weren't fully prepared for command, but now they've started promoting padawans because they've run out of knights… The Order's total numbers might be as low as they were at the fall of the Old Republic."

"There's more," Kryze said. "Based on troop movements outside of the Rishi Maze, we believe the Separatist took Kamino several weeks ago."

This was the first Obi-Wan had heard about an invasion of Kamino and he was startled at the implications. Still, he was glad Kryze trusted him enough to tell him such information, even if it was terrible news. Despite his expertise and his role as an advisor, he was usually purposefully kept away from anything related to the Republic and only given access to the lowest levels of intel on the on-going conflict. "That will be a huge problem if they've lost the cloning facilities and can no longer replenish the GAR. The war may drag on, but the Separatists will have effectively already won. I assume the Sith incursions are still continuing as well?"

"Most likely. We have very few reports from the disputed regions," Kryze said. "But it only makes sense for the Sith to force them into a war on two fronts."

"Yes," Obi-Wan agreed. "They must be salivating at the Republic's weakness."

"And the opportunity to kill off as many Jedi as they can manage," Kryze added.

Obi-Wan sighed. He got up and went to the side table where Kryze kept a bottle of tihaar and several glasses. He poured himself one without asking for permission and drank it in a single gulp. The burning liquid was a pleasant distraction from his emotional turmoil.

"Pour one for me if you're drinking my liquor," Kryze said.

Obi-Wan filled another glass and passed it to her before pouring a second for himself.

"You're upset," she observed as Obi-Wan returned to his seat.

Obi-Wan drained his glass and set it down on her desk before saying, "I grew up in the Temple on Coruscant. Would you be happy to learn that your childhood home was on the verge of being razed to the ground?"

She lifted her eyebrows. "If I'd had your childhood? I might be."

Obi-Wan huffed in amusement. "I had a very pleasant childhood, actually."

"As a loveless orphan?" Kryze said, her voice wry.

"I wasn't an orphan," Obi-Wan said. "The Temple was my parent and all of the Jedi were my aunts and uncles and brothers and sisters."

Kryze shook her head and drank her tihaar. "It's a wonder you're not more screwed up."

"Perhaps," Obi-Wan said and smiled.

Chapter Text

Obi-Wan was tense every time he returned to the Indoctrination Center, but he was able to see Anakin each night as usual. Either Anakin was behaving better or the threat to cancel their visits had been an empty one. Fett might not have wanted to deal with the fallout if they actually went through with it; Obi-Wan certainly intended to make his life difficult if it ever happened.

Another one of his fears was realized, however, when he arrived to find Anakin with fresh bruises on his arms and face.

"It's nothing," Anakin said immediately upon seeing Obi-Wan's expression. "We started combat training today."

Obi-Wan sat down next to him with a frown and Anakin laughed at his unease.

"Udesi. Ni jate." Calm down. I'm fine. The Mando'a words rolled off Anakin's tongue like he didn't even notice he was using them. "It's a good thing. It was nice to have something physical to do for once instead of sitting around all day getting lectured at."

Obi-Wan had no doubt that Anakin would excel at combat training even while his access to the Force was limited, but he couldn't help worrying about this new development. Anakin was already a target of his classmates' ire and this would provide new opportunities for him to be attacked. "What did they have you doing?"

"Sparring."

There were bruises on the side of Anakin's neck that suggested something more intense than a friendly spar. Obi-Wan touched one, noting that it was the same shape and size as his own thumb. "Did one of those Sith give you this?"

"They're not actually Sith." Anakin brushed Obi-Wan's hand aside and tugged up his collar to hide the marks. "They were just part of the Sith expeditionary forces and got nabbed in a border skirmish."

"Do you know where?" Obi-Wan asked. "It seems odd that they weren't traded back for Mandalorian prisoners."

"No idea," Anakin said and shrugged. His collar slipped back down and he tugged it up again. He had on a Mandalorian-style shirt over his inner tunic and the two fabrics didn't quite line up right. "I'm not exactly shocked to hear that the Sith don't care about their captured soldiers."

"Still," Obi-Wan said. He'd have to look into it. Keeping them might be a good pretext for war if the Sith got wind of it.

"Anyway," Anakin said. "You don't have to worry about them, it's nothing I can't handle."

"Don't forget your natural agility and reflexes are dulled right now," Obi-Wan cautioned. "Don't overestimate yourself and get in over your head."

"I realize that, Buir," Anakin said, sarcastic in that way he got when he thought Obi-Wan was being overprotective. His hand came up to rub the marks on his neck. "Believe me, I realize that. I keep being surprised when people are able to—surprise me."

Obi-Wan raised his eyebrows. "What people, specifically?"

"Just the other students," Anakin said. "Like in a fight if someone feints, I don't always recognize it. Without the Force guiding me, I can't sense their intentions."

"You can still trust your own instincts," Obi-Wan said. "They won't lead you astray."

"Maybe." Anakin looked away for a moment and then back at Obi-Wan. "They're also having us start to work in teams. They had us run a small obstacle course today and compete to see which group got the best time."

Obi-Wan nodded. "It's like any military training, they want you to bond with your unit."

"Yeah, the only problem is they're making us communicate entirely in Mando'a…" He tilted his head back and sighed as he looked up at the ceiling. "Makes it a lot more frustrating than it has to be. Especially when we can't understand each other's terrible pronunciation."

"But it's good practice."

"I guess," Anakin grumbled.

"More than the physical training, you should focus on improving your Mando'a as much as you can," Obi-Wan said. "That's the most important thing right now. You have to be able to understand orders and carry on a conversation to even be considered for release."

"Yeah, yeah, I get it."

"You should be fluent in under a month if you put some effort into it—"

"I am!" Anakin snapped, spending a wave of irritation out into the Force.

"I know you are," Obi-Wan said. "I wasn't criticizing. My point is that it's a relatively easy language to pick up, especially the version they teach here."

Anakin tilted his head in surprise, looking curious. "What version is that?"

"It's the military dialect used by the Empire's mixed fighting units," Obi-Wan explained. "It's based on the Sundari dialect, but the grammar is streamlined and the vocabulary is much smaller and more specialized."

"Huh, so am I going to sound like a grunt when I get out of here?"

"Yes and no," Obi-Wan said. "Such a large percentage of the population has military training that it's universally understood and military jargon largely goes unremarked upon, but—well, you'll realize eventually that there are limits to the language education you're receiving here."

Anakin narrowed his eyes. "How do you mean?"

"Recruits are functionally fluent, but once you get out of the isolated bubble at the Indoctrination Center, it's easy to get in over your head." Obi-Wan sighed a little. "Say when you meet someone who speaks a dialect with three tenses you never learned and then they allude to a line of ancient Mandalorian poetry and suddenly you can't make heads or tails of what they're saying."

"That's a very specific example," Anakin said, sounding amused.

"Never mind that," Obi-Wan said. "But they really should include some literary training during Indoctrination. At least a poem or two so you know what the classical forms sound like."

Anakin laughed at him. "Yeah, I'm sure my classmates would love it if we had a poetry unit."

"It comes up more than you might think in daily conversation," Obi-Wan said stiffly. "And it's never fun to discover the limits of your language skills in the middle of a high-level diplomatic discussion."

Anakin gave him a sharp look. "Is that what they have you doing?" he asked. "Diplomacy?"

"Uh, in an advisory capacity, sometimes," Obi-Wan said, somewhat thrown by the question and Anakin's sudden interest. "But not directly, no."

"Because they still don't trust you?" Anakin asked. He sounded almost gleeful, like he'd uncovered something Obi-Wan was hiding.

"It's not about trust," Obi-Wan said, doing his best to keep his voice neutral. "It's about… context. My negotiation skills don't necessarily translate here. Jedi theories of diplomacy are quite a bit different from Mandalorian ones."

Anakin snorted at that. "Yeah, no kidding."

"If you want to know what I'm doing, you only have to ask," he said. "You don't have to piece it together like I'm a hostile agent." Anakin rolled his eyes at that but Obi-Wan ignored it, continuing, "I've been assisting with the Sith front, mostly. We've been wrestling over footholds on various planets while both sides do everything they can to avoid actually shooting at one another. Neither Empire wants open war. Not yet, anyway."

"Be good for the Republic if they did," Anakin observed.

"Which is exactly why Mandalore doesn't want to set off a full-scale war," Obi-Wan said. "The Sith are likely to keep hostilities with Mandalore on the back burner while they're busy badgering the Republic."

Anakin raised his eyebrows. "That might buy them some time, but if the Republic falls it won't take the Sith long to go after the second-largest nearby power."

Obi-Wan made a noise of agreement. "I've been making similar arguments," he said. "But short-term safety is always so much more appealing than dealing with long-term problems."

Anakin put on an innocent expression which Obi-Wan didn't buy for a moment. "For instance, getting me out of the Indoctrination Center instead of worrying about escaping and getting off this karking planet."

"You should be worried about memorizing your new vocabulary terms," Obi-Wan said. "Ke'rejorhaa'i ni me'gar ru'hibira ibi'tuur." Tell me what you learned today.

Anakin groaned and rolled his head back on the couch.

Zena was the guard who walked Obi-Wan out of the facility that evening and he took advantage of the opportunity to interrogate her. "Zena, what can you tell me about these Sith recruits?"

"Oh, them," she said and huffed as she held open a gate for Obi-Wan. There were several locked choke points that they had to pass through in order to get out of the Center. "Sith'ade are always tough at first, but once you get through to them, they crack like an egg."

"Hm," Obi-Wan stroked his chin as he followed her down the corridor. "You've dealt with them before then?"

"Oh, yes," she said, her voice taking on a no-nonsense tone. "The Sith military trains them to never show weakness and to bully anyone who does, but it's all a facade. Those kids are desperate for approval and love underneath the swagger."

Obi-Wan nodded. It made sense for the Empire to try to bring in Sith recruits even if it didn't sit right with him. The Sith soldiers would be useful assets in the future and they would be easy targets for Indoctrination since they were already susceptible to coercive techniques. It also wasn't surprising that Sith soldiers would be able to integrate successfully into Mandalorian society. Despite the current hostilities, there were strong historical connections between the two Empires. They'd been allies as often as they'd been enemies in the past.

"At least one of them still has it out for Anakin," Obi-Wan said. They were approaching the door and he didn't have much time to get more information out of her.

"Oh, we're aware." Zena came to a stop in front of the entrance and crossed her arms as she turned to look at him. "We're keeping an eye on them. It's not unusual for recruits to work out their anger on one another since they can't act out in other ways."

Obi-Wan hesitated at the threshold. "He also said that they were starting group training exercises…"

"Yes, that'll help," Zena promised. "They start getting along better once they have to rely on one another during practice. You'll see. And once your son has some friends, the others will leave him alone."

"Hm, he's never been great at that," Obi-Wan said. "Making friends, I mean."

Zena snorted. "You should have more faith in the boy. He's doing well and he's a natural leader. If he can keep his mouth under control he might even be tapped for command training."

Obi-Wan could have brought up that Anakin already had experience as a military commander, but there wasn't much point. Mandalorians didn't have much respect for Jedi officers.

"Thank you for keeping an eye on him," he said instead. "It makes me feel—somewhat better."

"Of course." Zena put her helmet back on as Obi-Wan headed out the door. "He's in good hands, I promise you."

Chapter Text

Obi-Wan was still absentmindedly thinking about the Sith problem the next morning when he had to go into the government building for a meeting. Weeks ago, before Anakin's arrival, he had been placed on a committee that was supposed to be serving as a quick-acting task force for problems on the border. Theoretically, they were keeping an eye on disputes with the Sith and escalating anything important up to the Mand'alor, but primarily what they did was sort out logistical snarls at the edges of the Empire. The group had jokingly named itself First New United Border Surveillance, Sol'yc Hoyirad Eosise Evaar'la Solus, or SHEEvS, a pun on shebs or backside, which more or less summed up Obi-Wan's own feelings about being assigned to work on it.

Torjorur Bralor was currently giving a long and overly detailed report about food-supply issues at the outer garrisons while the rest of them sat around a long table. Torjorur was an older human man with a methodical, careful mind and a speaking voice to match. He spoke in a near monotone which was very calming to listen to, but it also made it something of a struggle to focus on his actual words. Obi-Wan was not entirely sure why the SHEEvS was even meeting about this and was vaguely annoyed that it hadn't been kept to a holomessage that he could have ignored.

Although, in truth, he was glad he had something to do today rather than spending it worrying about Anakin and waiting for their evening visiting hour. Anything could be happening to Anakin right now. He was probably already in the middle of some kind of military exercise or sparring session, possibly even facing off against one of those Sith soldiers.

Obi-Wan had been assuming the Sith were unwilling captives like Anakin, but as he thought about it now, he realized there was another possibility. They could have been captured on purpose in hopes of escaping the Sith and being accepted on Mandalore. Sith soldiers were nearly all conscripts and their forces had a high rate of desertion. It was only the Sith's harsh disciplinary tactics and tendency to execute the families of deserters that kept their soldiers from defecting en masse.

In that case, it might explain why they had it out for Anakin. What better way to ingratiate themselves to their new masters than by harassing a shared, ancient enemy? The Indoctrinators didn't really think like that—to them, Anakin had been a former Jedi from the moment he stepped into the Center—but to a Sith, attacking the Jedi in their midst in order to gain favor would seem like a logical, even sensible thing to do.

Now that he thought about it, Obi-Wan was surprised that there weren't more Sith soldiers in the Indoctrination Center. The Mandalorian system was so effective in part because it welcomed people who had no other home or safe haven. In exchange for accepting the Resol'nare, new Mandalorians were given a place to belong and a new sense of purpose in defending and expanding the Empire. Obi-Wan knew how appealing that could be first hand and he'd seen it work on the dozens of other captives in his class. Some of the most intransigent and cynical at the beginning were the most loyal by the end.

"You agree, don't you, Obi-Wan?" Torjorur asked, interrupting his thoughts.

Obi-Wan made a thoughtful noise in hopes that Torjorur might elaborate. When he didn't, he paused to see if he could remember what Torjorur had been talking about before he zoned out. "About the garrison?" Obi-Wan hazarded. "Yes, certainly."

Soft laughter around the table made clear that that was not what they were currently discussing.

"Sorry, Torjorur," Obi-Wan said. "I'm afraid I was distracted. Could you run that by me again?"

Torjorur shook his head ruefully. "As I was saying—"

Obi-Wan shifted in his seat and tried valiantly to pay attention. It was stuffy in the meeting room and he rather regretted putting on his armor that morning. It still felt silly to Obi-Wan to wear full battle dress when he wasn't anywhere near a battlefield, but he knew traditionalists like Torjorur saw it as a mark of respect. Everyone else around the table was in full armor, most of them considerably better outfitted than Obi-Wan was. He only had a few pieces of armor rather than a full set, and what he did have was as light and scanty as he could get away with. It wasn't too different from his GAR armor, although the durasteel plate was several times heavier than the plastoid that the Republic favored.

Torjorur was just getting back to his main point about the need for more strategic grain reserves when Obi-Wan felt an odd pain in his stomach on his right side. It was sharp, but it didn't feel like a muscle cramp. He was mentally reviewing everything he'd eaten that morning when the pain intensified. He couldn't help a muffled grunt as he shifted and reached down to touch the spot. It almost felt like...

Obi-Wan looked down and was surprised to see blood on his hand where he was holding his stomach. Quite a lot of blood, actually. It had already soaked through the bottom of his tunic. No, wait, that wasn't his tunic, and it wasn't his mechanical hand either—

That kriffing sleemo stabbed me! Obi-Wan thought, in a voice that didn't sound at all like his internal monologue. How did he—kark!

Obi-Wan realized what was happening in the same instant Anakin did, understanding passing through both of them so quickly that it wasn't clear who had had the thought first.

Obi-Wan! Anakin sounded panicked now, his fear carrying through their bond along with another wave of pain as he reached out for him. Help me, I can't—

"Anakin!" The vision cut off as abruptly as it had come. Obi-Wan found he was standing up and the others were all staring at him around the table.

"Is something wrong?" Torjorur asked.

"I have to—sorry, excuse me," Obi-Wan said, and rushed out of the meeting room.

He was barely aware of where he was going, hurrying through the corridors at a near run as he searched for Anakin in the Force. He could still sense their bond, the firm shape of it like a knot at the back of his head, but now that the momentary connection overlapping their minds had broken, they were too far apart for him to get anything more than a vague sense of turmoil from Anakin's end.

Obi-Wan managed to requisition a speeder from the soldiers patrolling the government district. He didn't even have to mind trick them into doing it; he was distraught enough that they accepted that there was an emergency without asking any further questions.

As he raced to the Indoctrination Center, Anakin's end of the bond grew silent, a blank space where earlier there had been pain and fear. Most likely that meant he had passed out. Obi-Wan didn't want to think too hard about what else it could mean. Instead, he focused on driving the speeder through Sundari's streets as quickly as he could manage without wiping out against the side of a building.

There were four indoctrinators on guard at the entrance to the Center when Obi-Wan arrived. They were clearly on edge and darted glances between themselves as he approached.

"We're in lockdown," one of them told Obi-Wan as he tried to enter. "No one in or out."

Obi-Wan spotted a familiar set of red and black armor behind the indoctrinator at the door and called out, "Zena! Zena, let me in! I have to see Anakin."

Zena took off her helmet. She looked stressed and her hair was damp with sweat. "He's not here, Obi-Wan," she said. "They took him to the medcenter for treatment."

"What medcenter? Where? What happened?" He realized his voice was very loud and took a breath as he tried to control himself.

"It was—there was an accident," Zena said. "An injury during sparring."

"Not really an accident." One of the guards behind her grumbled as he removed his helmet, revealing Neeshik underneath. "I'm pretty sure the coward meant to kill him."

"Sparring?" Obi-Wan said in shock. "Shouldn't they only be allowed hand-to-hand? How did one of them get a vibroblade?"

Zena jerked back in surprise while Neeshik gave him a puzzled look.

"Uh, it was an improvised knife, not a vibroblade," Neeshik said. "Very crude. He must have stolen some cutlery and sharpened it somehow."

That was a huge breach of security. Obi-Wan was shocked based on his previous experience at the Indoctrination Center that it would even be possible. "How the hell did a recruit manage that?"

The indoctrinators all exchanged nervous looks, clearly not having an answer for him.

Obi-Wan sighed. "Never mind, it doesn't matter now. What medcenter did they take him to?"

After conferring with her supervisors, Zena got permission to take Obi-Wan there herself. She drove him in one of the Center's speeders since she knew the way, leaving Obi-Wan impatiently tapping his foot in the passenger seat. Zena was very circumspect about following traffic laws, which normally Obi-Wan would have appreciated but today it was an aggravation. He kept reaching out for Anakin and only finding blank darkness. It was unconsciousness. He was sure it was. Obi-Wan knew what it felt like to have a bond violently severed and this wasn't it.

Zena kept darting glances at him whenever they slowed down or were forced to stop momentarily. They were looks full of apprehension and a hint of fear.

"What?" Obi-Wan asked, finally fed up with waiting for her to ask him about whatever was bothering her.

"Did Director Fett com you?" she said. "You arrived so fast."

"No," Obi-Wan said. "I felt it happening."

Zena startled a little and shot him a wary look before returning her eyes to the windscreen. "Through the Force?"

"Yes."

"Can you—is that... normal?" she asked. "Feeling things?"

"Uh, yes and no." Obi-Wan said, quashing a wave of irritation. He was too distracted to launch into a full explanation of the Force at the moment so he kept his answer simple and to the point. "Visions are relatively rare, but this one was probably because of my training bond with Anakin."

Zena blinked in confusion and Obi-Wan sighed realizing he was going to have to go into more detail.

"There's a mental connection that's forged between Jedi masters and padawans as part of our training," he explained. "Anakin and I can feel each other's emotions through it. Well, I can," he amended, "he can't right now."

"Whoa," Zena said in surprise. "I didn't realize—I thought it was more of an extra sense than telepathy."

"It's not," Obi-Wan said, although she was clearly speaking colloquially and he really didn't have the energy to get into the nitty-gritty of the many different types of Force abilities. "Not exactly. Sending actual words through the bond is difficult and rare. Usually it's an exchange of feelings and sensations. He must have reached out for me when it happened and I experienced it as if it was happening to me."

"I thought the drugs were supposed to prevent that?" Zena said in surprise.

Obi-Wan shrugged. "I'm not a healer, I have no idea how they work or if they should have prevented it." Although most likely it was because the drugs had been formulated for someone with a good deal less raw power than Anakin possessed.

Zena fidgeted, still uncertain about something. "But this is… that was… normal?"

"Uh, well, it was unusually clear and over a quite a long distance," Obi-Wan admitted, not sure how much he should tell her. "But in extenuating circumstances...? It's not out of the norm for Force-sensitives that are close, no."

"Huh," Zena said. "I wish I could sense my kids that way. Maybe I could actually keep them out of trouble."

Obi-Wan managed a smile. If he was less stressed he might have laughed. "It hasn't done much to keep Anakin out of trouble, I'm afraid."

Chapter Text

Zena was apologetic as she dropped Obi-Wan off at the entrance to the medcenter. "I'd come in with you," she said. "But I'm still on duty and they'll be expecting me back..."

Obi-Wan waved her off without much thought, but it was a decision he soon found himself regretting. He'd never been to a Mandalorian healing center before and the whole place was very confusing. There didn't seem to be any sort of check-in system or central place of administration—Obi-Wan was able to walk right inside without anyone stopping him. He wandered until he got a general sense of the place, but his confusion only increased. There didn't seem to be separately delineated wards for different types of patients. Instead, there were dozens of identical hallways lined with rooms radiating out from a central courtyard.

Obi-Wan searched unsuccessfully for the trauma ward until he realized that the patients seemed to be grouped based on the first letter of their clan or family names. If you knew someone's name, you could find them by going down the hallway labeled with the proper letter and looking at the names written on the doors.

With this revelation at hand, he confidently went to the "S'' hallway and walked up and down looking for Anakin, but failed to find him anywhere. Had they transcribed his name wrong? That didn't seem likely; "sk" was a common enough combination in Mando'a and "Skywalker" shouldn't have been a hard name to understand even if it was an unusual one. Maybe there was a special area somewhere where "recruits" were kept under guard? He could sense Anakin in the Force now, but only in a vague way that meant he was somewhere nearby without any clear direction.

Obi-Wan was searching for someone to ask for help when he suddenly realized what must have happened. He left the "S" hallway behind and hurried over to the Mandalorian equivalent of "K." There, he shortly found a door labeled "Anakin Kenobi" because, naturally, a Mandalorian would assume Anakin would be using Obi-Wan's family name now. The Indoctrination Center had probably updated his data file without even thinking to ask.

Obi-Wan went inside and couldn't help a gasp when he finally set eyes on Anakin. He was stretched out on a medical bed surrounded by machines monitoring his vitals. Obi-Wan's relief at finally finding him was tempered by the shock of seeing him. Anakin's upper body was bare and there was a splash of dried blood staining his neck and part of his cheek. He looked terribly pale and there was a large bacta patch over his right abdomen.

Obi-Wan approached his bedside and reached out to touch Anakin's forehead. He closed his eyes as he assessed him through the Force. The wound felt awful, a gaping laceration that went deep into his stomach, but Obi-Wan could also sense the bacta doing its work to heal the damage.

Anakin was so deeply unconscious that there was no response at all to Obi-Wan's probing. His mind felt clouded and disoriented, and Obi-Wan wondered if he might have a concussion on top of the stab wound. Still, he was comforted by Anakin's strong presence in the Force. Even injured and unconscious, his mind glowed like a banked fire, his strength suppressed but still present.

Obi-Wan took a slow breath and kept his hand on Anakin's head as he tried to calm himself. He'd found him. Anakin was safe now. He was going to be fine. He should be relieved, yet his inner turmoil only seemed to increase. Now that he'd found Anakin, anger was bubbling up to take the place of fear.

Obi-Wan let himself focus for the moment on the indignation that had been building up inside of him. He'd known this was going to happen. He kept trying to tell everyone that Anakin was in danger, that he needed to be released from the Indoctrination Center, but no one had listened to him.

Obi-Wan's resentment was so strong that it felt like a physical weight lodged in his chest. He took a deep breath and let himself feel everything he'd been repressing since the day Anakin had arrived. Half-remembered moments came back to him—how he'd had to fight just to get access to Anakin, how there'd been surprise that Obi-Wan had still cared about his former student, how no one understood what having a padawan meant. Voices replayed in his head, moments that he'd thought he'd brushed off and let go of, but which came back to him now crystal clear and steeped in bitter frustration.

He's not your brother any longer.

Why didn't you tell us you were a parent?

Is that human hair? What are you supposed to do with it?

As a loveless orphan?

It was infuriating. Maddening. His anger was justified, righteous even. He had every reason to be furious.

Obi-Wan let the flush of emotion move through him, then reached out into the Force as he began to take a series of long, deep breaths. Each time he exhaled, he imagined his pain and resentment leaving his body along with his breath. The Force rippled around him as his disturbed feelings flooded outward and began to drain away like the taint of infection drawn from a wound. His anger wasn't helpful now. He needed to be calm and in control, for Anakin's sake as much as his own.

He had been right, but that was in the past and he needed to focus on the present. Anakin was injured, but he hadn't been killed and now he was in a safe place getting medical treatment. This wasn't how Obi-Wan had wanted it to happen, but Anakin was finally out of the Indoctrination Center and he was never going back in again if Obi-Wan had anything to say about it. He didn't know much about the Mandalorian court system, but he knew he had rights as a father. Surely any judge on Mandalore would be inclined to side with an irate parent over the government. Obi-Wan could find a way to make this very unpleasant for everyone involved.

Obi-Wan began to feel calm, or calmer at least, as he refocused. The fight over the Indoctrination Center was in the future. Instead of worrying about that, he needed to do what he could for Anakin now.

Opening his eyes, he took another breath and reassessed. Anakin's skin felt cold and clammy under his hand and his face was very pale. No doubt he'd lost a lot of blood earlier, but shouldn't he be looking better by now? Obi-Wan resolved to find a healer and get an update on his condition.

Looking around the room, Obi-Wan located a datascreen on the wall which seemed to contain Anakin's chart as well as a display of moving graphs and numbers that showed his heartbeat and other vital signs. At the bottom of the screen, there was a section with notes from the medical staff, but Obi-Wan struggled to make sense of them. All of the words seemed to be jargon he was unfamiliar with. He realized that he didn't know any medical vocabulary except the most basic terms that a soldier might need like "aaray'kyramud" for "painkiller."

There was a "call" button at the top of the datascreen and Obi-Wan hit it experimentally. A chime sounded and an alert flashed. Hopefully that would summon a healer to the room.

Obi-Wan looked out in the hallway, checking to see if anyone was coming, but there was no one in sight. The entire medcenter felt oddly quiet compared to Obi-Wan's experience of Jedi healing halls and Republic medical bays. There was barely any noise at all from the other rooms. The corridors were painted a muted orange color and decorated with abstract murals and mosaics. If it weren't for the occasional piece of medical equipment in the hallway, Obi-Wan would have assumed he was in a hotel or an apartment building instead of a place of healing.

One of those pieces of equipment, a small medical droid with a domed head and dozens of folded arms, approached Obi-Wan and beeped at him. He realized it was trying to get access to Anakin's room and moved back to let it roll inside. The droid went straight to the bed and extended a long, thin wand from its body, waving it over Anakin. It ran a series of scans, extending different arms and clicking and beeping to itself as it assessed him.

"Is he all right?" Obi-Wan asked, but frustratingly the droid only seemed to speak Binary. "Is there a healer somewhere I could talk to?"

The droid beeped some more in response and pointed to the datascreen on the wall. The display had changed to a set of numbers counting down slowly.

"Does that mean a healer is coming?" Obi-Wan asked.

The droid beeped affirmatively and rolled out of the room.

Obi-Wan tried to take the countdown as an opportunity to practice patience, but he was not especially successful. He went to look out the door and then paced around the room, constantly looking back at the datascreen to check how much longer he had to wait. The count proved accurate at least as shortly after it hit zero, footsteps sounded in the hallway.

Obi-Wan looked out the door to see four people approaching, all dressed in matching white uniforms.

"Uh, hello?" Obi-Wan said as they came inside. Two of them were holding medical scanners and went to stand over the bed while a third motioned Obi-Wan out of the way. "Are you the healers?"

"Uh, no?" the man said. "I mean, we're body workers."

Obi-Wan blinked and realized he'd been using the wrong noun. It wasn't jahaalan from the verb for "to heal," but baar'ur, a person who worked on the body. He should have realized that—the same word was used for medic. "Right, that's what I—can you give me an update on his condition?"

"You're family?" the man asked.

"Yes, I'm his father—" Obi-Wan stopped, distracted by the fact that the other healers had activated a repulsorlift in the base of Anakin's bed, causing it to rise several inches into the air. One of them pressed a button on the controls and it started moving toward the door while the others followed.

"Wait, what's happening?" Obi-Wan said. "Where are they taking him?"

The man raised his hands, blocking his path and preventing Obi-Wan from following. Obi-Wan momentarily considered Force pushing him out of the way before he got control over himself. The last thing he needed was to get thrown out for assaulting the medical staff.

"Everything is fine," the man was saying in a soothing tone. "We're taking him to—" and said a word or phrase that Obi-Wan didn't recognize.

Obi-Wan frowned, trying to puzzle out the meaning before giving up. "I need to go with him," he said, and made to go around the man, but he stopped him again.

"I'm afraid you can't go to the—" he said the same phrase again that Obi-Wan didn't understand. "But you can monitor his progress from here."

"Progress? With what, what's happening?"

The man made an impatient noise. "They're going to—" A series of sounds came out of his mouth, some of which Obi-Wan recognized as words but most of which he didn't, and none of which he could make sense of as a coherent sentence.

Obi-Wan's confusion must have been clear on his face because the man mimed something, touching his hand to his stomach, and repeated himself, speaking slower this time. Obi-Wan tried to concentrate and make sense of the jumble of unfamiliar words and phrases. Somewhere in there he heard the words epan—guts or intestines—and hokaani—cut. Surgery, that must be it, they were taking Anakin into surgery.

The man took the datascreen down off the wall and pressed it into Obi-Wan's hands. "You can watch here," he said before turning away for the door.

"Wait—" Obi-Wan raised a hand, but the man was already out the door, rushing after his colleagues.

Obi-Wan made an attempt to follow them, but the group had already vanished through a door further down the corridor. The lock flashed red and beeped disapprovingly at Obi-Wan when he attempted to open it. He might have disabled the lock and gone after them, but barging into a surgical facility probably wasn't going to help matters.

At a loss and frustrated with himself for not demanding more information from the healers before they took Anakin, Obi-Wan went back to the room to wait.

Chapter Text

The room felt very quiet without Anakin in it. The medical equipment was no longer beeping and humming in the background, having fallen silent without a patient to monitor, and the space where the bed had been yawned huge and empty.

Obi-Wan took a seat and tried to ignore his unease. The datascreen was still displaying Anakin's vital signs and he supposed that was what the healer had meant by "monitor his progress." Words sometimes appeared at the bottom of the screen, short updates on the surgery probably, but Obi-Wan was at a loss to interpret most of them.

He finally put the datascreen aside and focused on Anakin's Force signature in order to calm himself. Anakin's end of their bond felt like a blank space again, presumably because he was now deep under anesthesia, but he was physically close enough that Obi-Wan still had a firm sense of his location.

He would be fine. Trained healers were working on him and they knew far better than Obi-Wan what to do in this situation.

Obi-Wan closed his eyes and tried to center himself in meditation, but he struggled to focus. His mind felt incredibly restless and his worries about Anakin kept intruding and throwing off his concentration. An irrational thought kept returning to him—the idea that meditating was somehow an abandonment of his duties. It felt like if he stopped thinking about Anakin and checking the datascreen for even a moment then something might happen to him. It was as if part of Obi-Wan was convinced that his attention alone could keep Anakin safe from further harm.

His usual methods of meditation weren't going to work, clearly. He needed to try something else.

Obi-Wan shifted and began to search through one of the pouches on his belt until he found the little cloth bag he'd tucked away inside. He pulled out the padawan braid and held it in his hand as he closed his eyes. Obi-Wan concentrated on the weight and feel of the braid in his hand and little by little, he managed to calm himself. Having something to hold onto and use as a focal point helped, especially something so closely linked to Anakin himself. He began to use the colored bands tied in the braid to mark his meditation. For each band, he recited a matra once in his head before moving on to the next. When he reached the last band, he started over again at the beginning, each pass helping him move deeper into meditation and release some of his agitation.

Obi-Wan never managed to reach the level of meditation where his sense of time blurred and lost meaning, but he was able to stop checking the chronometer every other minute. He was feeling much calmer if not quite at peace when he sensed movement from Anakin. Obi-Wan was so focused on him at the moment that he could sense his location shifting as if he had an internal compass with a lodestone that pointed inexorably toward his former padawan.

His heart leapt with relief. If they were moving him, that had to mean the surgery was over. He was tense at first, half expecting them to take Anakin to another part of the medcenter for further treatment, but slowly his presence drew closer and closer, until, finally, Obi-Wan heard footsteps outside in the hallway.

The door chimed as someone entered the room and Obi-Wan opened his eyes with relief to see two white-uniformed healers returning with the Anakin between them. The repuslor-lift at the bottom of the medical bed hummed as it floated into the room and returned to its place against the wall. Anakin was still unconscious and had been dressed in a long white tunic that looked similar to what the healers themselves were wearing. White must be standard medical dress for Mandalorians, both healers and patients.

Obi-Wan didn't recognize the healer who was guiding the bed, but the other man was the one who had spoken to him earlier.

"He's going to be fine," he said, approaching Obi-Wan with a reassuring smile.

"It was—a success then? The… surgery?" Obi-Wan stumbled over the unfamiliar word, probably mispronouncing it.

"Yes, we repaired the damage," the healer said. He was speaking in a slow, exaggerated manner and Obi-Wan had to suppress the urge to snap at him that he did speak Mando'a, thank you very much.

"Good, I'm glad." He wanted to ask for more details, but he realized he probably wouldn't understand them even if he did. "Thank you for taking care of him."

The man nodded in acknowledgement and headed out the door with the other healer. Obi-Wan was once again left alone with an unconscious Anakin. The quiet room felt strange and surreal. He checked the chronometer on the wall and was surprised to realize it wasn't nearly as late as he expected it to be. He felt exhausted, like days had passed, but it had only been a few hours since he'd arrived. It felt surreal remembering that he had been in a boring meeting listening to Torjorur drone on that same morning.

Obi-Wan pulled the chair next to Anakin's bedside and sat down heavily. He wanted to feel relief, but he was too tired even for that. He watched Anakin's chest rise and fall and tried to tell himself that everything would be fine now. He wished he'd thought to ask the healers how long it would take for Anakin to wake up after the surgery.

Obi-Wan tried to sleep, but between the discomfort of the chair he was sitting on and his own anxiety, he barely managed to doze for a few hours. He was hungry as well, but he pushed his discomfort out into the Force. He could worry about taking care of his body's needs once Anakin was awake.

He tried to tell himself that it was good that Anakin was still unconscious. He was already sleep-deprived from Indoctrination and his body would need all the rest it could get in order to heal. Still, as the hours passed, Obi-Wan couldn't help feeling frustrated that he hadn't woken up yet.

"I know you're doing this to annoy me," Obi-Wan said to him, his voice echoing in the quiet of the room. "You probably got stabbed in the first place to make some sort of point and are now punishing me by remaining unconscious as long as possible."

Anakin did not respond or give any sign that he could hear Obi-Wan, but then that was exactly what he would do if he could hear him, so not really confirmation either way.

"You're only proving my point now," Obi-Wan continued. "You think you're more stubborn than I am but that's not actually true. I'll sit next to your bedside for days if I have to—"

A soft knock startled Obi-Wan out of his one-sided conversation. A woman dressed in white was standing in the doorway next to a hovercart. "Is this a bad time to interrupt?" she asked, speaking in Basic.

"Ah, no, I was just..." He cleared his throat to cover his embarrassment. "Come in. Are you a healer?"

"A medical assistant," she said as she came inside. She had a slight Coruscanti accent, which was unusual out here, and spoke smoothly and comfortably. Obi-Wan wondered if she or one of her parents was originally from the Republic. Most Mandalorians knew at least a little Basic since it was a useful trade language outside of the Empire, but they were rarely fluent unless they were part of one of the higher-ranked clans or had attended one of the elite academies that trained future political and military leaders.

The medical assistant brought the hovercart into the room and parked it at the end of the bed. "You're Anakin Kenobi's father, right?"

"Skywalker," Obi-Wan said. "But, yes."

"You're Skywalker?" she said in confusion.

"No, he is. I'm Obi-Wan Kenobi. They got his name wrong."

"Oh," she blinked. "I'm sorry, there must have been confusion when he was admitted. I can get that fixed." She pulled up a datascreen on the hovercart and made a note, asking Obi-Wan to spell Skywalker for her. "I'll request a correction, but it might be a day or so before it takes effect."

"Will they move his room?" Obi-Wan asked, thinking about the odd arrangement based on patients' names.

"Oh, no," she said quickly. "Once you're assigned a room, they rarely move patients unless it's necessary for medical reasons." She went to the top of the bed and checked the readout on the sensors there before glancing at Obi-Wan with a confused look. "Has he been awake? I thought I heard you talking."

"Uh, no, I—was told once that it was useful to talk to unconscious people, so…" Obi-Wan cleared his throat. "Although that might have been in reference to coma patients rather than someone recovering from anesthesia…" He trailed off in embarrassment.

"No, it makes sense," she said with a quick smile. "It's always comforting to have familiar people around when waking up from surgery." She made a note on the datascreen on the hovercart before turning back to Obi-Wan. "I was actually assigned to your case for a specific reason," she said. "I'm one of the medcenter's official translators."

Obi-Wan winced. Well, that explained her very fluent Basic. He should be relieved, but he couldn't help feeling embarrassed at having the limitations of his Mando'a laid bare so plainly. "Ahh, uh—" he sighed. "Would you please tell me what is happening?"

"Your son is going to be fine," she said. "He was admitted with a single puncture wound in his stomach this morning. The blade was removed and he was treated for blood loss and his condition stabilized."

She pulled up a scan which had been done when Anakin first arrived and started explaining the details of the injury and his treatment. The wound itself had been relatively shallow and Anakin had been lucky in that the instructors at the Indoctrination Center had left the knife where it was and didn't attempt to remove it and cause further damage.

"Initially, the medical team opted for a non-invasive bacta application, but changed course when there were signs of increased inflammation and continued internal bleeding." She opened another scan and went over the surgical repairs that had been completed. "The surgery went well and he's expected to make a full recovery."

"Okay. That's good to hear," Obi-Wan said. "But why is he still unconscious? Shouldn't he have woken up by now?"

"Hm, it has been a while…" She tapped on the datascreen and pulled up a list of the medications that Anakin had been given. She scanned through it, frowning in confusion until she read something that made her eyebrows go up. "Oh, I see, he's… a recruit?" Her long moment of hesitation suggested she was thinking of a different word at first.

"Yes." Obi-Wan narrowed his eyes. "What does that have to do with it?"

"Uh, they have him on a heavy dose of, uh, ne'jetii'dral? I'm not actually sure what the Basic term would be—"

"Force suppressors," Obi-Wan supplied. The Mando'a word was more blunt, literally meaning anti-Jedi-powers.

"Suppressors, yes," she said, avoiding Obi-Wan's gaze as she stared at Anakin's chart on the datascreen. "At these levels, they'd have a strong soporific effect. That must be what's keeping him sedated."

"Oh." Obi-Wan kept himself from sighing, but only barely. "Was that a precaution for the surgery?" Having a Jedi wake up under anesthesia would certainly be dangerous. Obi-Wan could see how that might be a reasonable precaution under the circumstances, but he doubted that was the only reason.

There was a pause as the woman continued looking through Anakin's chart before she cleared her throat. "Uh, no... it looks like they've scheduled a continual dose as a security precaution."

Obi-Wan sighed. "Right."

"It's probably because we're not a secure facility," she explained, glancing at him apologetically. "It is a rather high dose."

"I see." Obi-Wan didn't like it but that explained the lack of guards. "Is there someone I could talk to about that?"

She tapped some keys. "The medical leader will stop by tomorrow morning during his rounds."

Obi-Wan grimaced. "Any chance you'll be there to interpret?"

"Of course," she said. "He's the one that requested my assistance. I'll be present for all future consultations."

"Thank you," Obi-Wan said, before adding, "I swear my Mando'a is better than this."

"Don't be embarrassed," she said with a gentle smile. "Medical situations are some of the hardest to navigate in a second language. It's a lot of confusing, specialized language in a very stressful context. It's easy to be overwhelmed."

"Yes, I suppose," Obi-Wan said. He was still smarting a little over needing the assistance, but he could recognize the emotion for what it was—pride. He'd been proud of his ability to speak fluently and navigate Mandalorian society after only a year, but here was an area where he was completely out of his depths. There was some fear there too. The lack of control and helplessness made it feel like he couldn't protect Anakin when he needed him most.

The medical assistant went to the datascreen with Anakin's chart and entered an update before returning to the hovercart. She opened a compartment and began taking medical supplies out of it, laying them out on the bed next to Anakin. "I'm going to check the incision and change his dressings now."

She lifted one edge of the medical robe Anakin was wearing to reveal the large bacta patch on his abdomen.

"I'll just—step out," Obi-Wan said, backing toward the door.

"You don't have to," she said, glancing at him over her shoulder as she began sorting through the supplies on the bed.

"Oh?" Obi-Wan hovered in the doorway, unsure what to do. Usually when Anakin was injured, this would usually be the point where he would get shooed out the door by the healers and (more often than not) sent to have his own wounds tended to.

"Here," the woman said. "Take this." She held out a sealed foil package to him. "You can give his face a wash while I'm changing the dressing."

"Uh, right…" Obi-Wan took it from her and hesitated, standing over Anakin's unconscious form. He looked at her for instruction, but she was already busy removing the bandages from Anakin's stomach.

Obi-Wan opened the foil package and found a damp, sterile cloth inside. He passed it over Anakin's forehead and frowned at the grime that came away on the cloth. There were still some patches of dried blood on his neck, and it was a relief to finally clean away the visible evidence of the fight that had wounded him. It brought up a flash of memory—standing outside the council chamber, Anakin making a face while Obi-Wan wiped a smear of grease off his cheek with the edge of his robe. What were you doing earlier, crawling around in an engine? Hold still, we've got to at least look presentable.

"There, that's better," the medical assistant announced, collecting the soiled bandages and cloth for disposal when they were both finished.

"Yes," Obi-Wan said. He felt oddly better himself. It had been good to have a task to do after hours of sitting around and waiting. That was very clever of her—she'd made Obi-Wan feel useful while also distracting him from seeing the uncovered stab wound and surgical incision.

"You should try to get some sleep," the medical assistant suggested as she prepared to leave.

Obi-Wan glanced at the chair he had been resting in and grimaced. "I don't know how much sleep I'll be getting sitting up tonight."

"Why don't you use the family cot?" she asked.

"The what?"

She was already leaning down to press a button at the side of Anakin's bed. A long thin drawer popped out revealing a hidden trundle bed with a narrow mattress.

Obi-Wan stared at the cot in shock. Trust Mandalorians to assume that visitors would want to sleep by their family member's bedside.

The medical assistant opened another drawer at the base of the bed and pulled out a small pillow and a blanket, which she handed to Obi-Wan.

"Uh, thank you."

She smiled at him and turned to go. "Try to get some rest. I'll see you tomorrow morning when the medical leader is here."

Chapter Text

There was a rushing sound in Obi-Wan's ear that started as a soft breeze but grew louder and louder until it roared like a blast of static from a malfunctioning communicator. He jolted awake on the narrow cot, his heart racing.

It took a moment before the dark room resolved around him and Obi-Wan remembered where he was. Right, the medcenter. He was in Anakin's room on the cot beside his bed.

The noise had stopped now that he was awake, but Obi-Wan still had an uneasy sense that something was wrong. He abruptly realized the sound wasn't something he had heard, but something he had felt.

"Anakin?" Obi-Wan sat up. Blankets shifted on the bed above him and there was a sniffing sound.

"Anakin!" Obi-Wan got to his knees on the cot and scooted up so he was kneeling next to the side of the bed. Anakin turned his head, blinking blearily at him from his pillow before startling back as if surprised by his presence. His eyes alighted on Obi-Wan's face for only a moment before they darted away to take in the room. Obi-Wan could see his confusion as he realized he wasn't in the healing halls of the Jedi Temple.

Obi-Wan reached out to touch Anakin's shoulder, pulling his attention back to him. "Anakin, it's okay, cyar'ika—" Anakin squinted at him at the last word and Obi-Wan belatedly realized that Mando'a wasn't very helpful at the moment. "It's okay, you're safe, sweetheart—" Obi-Wan cringed at his own choice of words. That felt very weird to say in Basic.

Thankfully, Anakin didn't seem to have registered the endearment. He was looking away again, his eyes roaming around the room and taking in the medical equipment on the walls. "Where…?"

"You're in a healing—a medcenter," Obi-Wan explained. "On Mandalore."

Anakin's face scrunched up, seemingly only more confused by that answer. Was he having memory problems?

"...Master?" Anakin asked him, oddly hesitant. He started to reach for Obi-Wan, but stopped for some reason. He frowned and looked Obi-Wan up and down in confusion. Did he have a concussion? The healers hadn't said anything about a head injury.

"Yes, it's okay, padawan, I'm here," Obi-Wan said. If Anakin was in his right mind, he would have been annoyed at being called a padawan, but in the moment it passed without comment. "You were injured. Do you remember what happened?"

Anakin shook his head slowly, still frowning at Obi-Wan.

"What's the last thing you remember?"

Anakin remained silent, staring at Obi-Wan like he wasn't processing what he had said. He started to sit up on his elbows and then winced and thought better of it. Instead, he shifted his weight and pushed himself back, moving toward the other side of the bed and away from Obi-Wan.

"Anakin, what's wrong? Do you not remember?" Obi-Wan asked. "I'm sure it will come back to you—"

"You're not here," Anakin said in a mullish tone.

"Yes, I am," Obi-Wan said firmly. That head injury was looking more and more likely.

"No, you're not," Anakin insisted.

Obi-Wan took a breath and stopped himself from arguing back. They could go back and forth for ages that way. "Why do you think I'm not here?"

Anakin shook his head and turned his face up toward the ceiling, refusing to look at him. He had the stubborn expression that meant he was preparing to cling to an idea against all reason or evidence to the contrary.

Obi-Wan sat down on the bed and leaned over so he was right in Anakin's line of sight. "I assure you, I am here, padawan." He touched Anakin's cheek, trying to tilt his head and get a look at his pupils. It was hard to tell in the dim light if they were behaving normally or not.

Anakin flinched and pushed Obi-Wan's hand away. "No, it's a trick or—I'm hallucinating. Or—dreaming?" He was starting to sound less dazed and more awake, but for some reason that was only strengthening his conviction. Anakin looked around the room, searching for seams perhaps or some other sign of illusion.

"What makes you think it's not real?" Obi-Wan asked. "Does it feel like a dream?"

"I can't feel you," Anakin snapped and Obi-Wan sensed a building wave of panic. "I can't feel anything," he said, his voice breaking slightly.

Obi-Wan sighed. "In the Force?"

Anakin jerked his head in a quick nod and wrapped his arms around himself. They'd taken his glove off at some point and the gold metal of his cybernetic arm stood out against the pale white of the medical robe he was wearing. "Everything feels wrong."

"It's the drugs, Anakin. I'm amazed you're even awake right now." Amazed, but not surprised. Anakin's abilities had been startling the very experienced Force healers back at the Temple for years, it was no surprise that Mandalorian doctors had underestimated him. "You're on heavy Force suppressors."

That seemed to trigger something for Anakin and his eyes narrowed with sudden suspicion. "You—! You're working with them!"

"No, I'm here for you," Obi-Wan said, although it wasn't entirely true. Anakin was already prone to paranoia even when he wasn't in an altered state, the fact that it was somewhat justified in this case wasn't going to help anything. "I know it's not pleasant, but it's just for now, while you're in the medcenter…" Which was also not entirely true, but Obi-Wan needed to calm Anakin down. If he made too much of a fuss, it would attract the attention of the healers and they'd no doubt sedate him again.

Anakin grumbled something that might have been "traitor" and glared into the corner of the room.

"I know it must feel strange and uncomfortable—"

"—awful," Anakin said, still not looking at Obi-Wan.

"I'm sorry." Obi-Wan tried putting his hand on Anakin's shoulder and this time he let him leave it there.

"It's like everything's—powered down. And it's so quiet." Anakin sniffed, his eyes bright as he fought back angry tears.

With the drugs in his system, Obi-Wan couldn't reach out and calm him the way he would have normally. Instead, he took Anakin's left hand and pulled it over to press against his own chest, holding it above his heart. He inhaled deeply so Anakin's hand lifted with the rise of his chest. "Breathe with me."

Anakin made an irritated noise but inhaled slowly as Obi-Wan took another deep breath. Breathing in sync with a caregiver was one of the simplest meditations for children. Obi-Wan had done it many times with Anakin when he was a new padawan and had no experience in calming his own mind. He could feel Anakin's annoyance that Obi-Wan thought he needed to do something so basic, but the familiarity of the exercise was also what made it effective.

Sure enough, after only a few breaths, the violent churn of Anakin's emotions slowed. Even without being able to feel Obi-Wan's presence, the memory of doing this together and being wrapped up in the cocoon of Obi-Wan's attention was enough to quiet Anakin's mind reflexively.

Obi-Wan kept his grip on Anakin's hand and kept breathing with him for several minutes. Anakin had his eyes closed and his main emotion now was exhaustion. The soporific effect of the drug was reasserting itself. Obi-Wan let him drift off. As much as he'd prefer having Anakin awake, it was clear that unconsciousness might be for the best as long as he was this heavily medicated.

For his part, Obi-Wan was unable to fall back asleep, although he managed a few hours of restorative meditation which was nearly as good. The hours crept by until it was what could reasonably be called "morning" and Obi-Wan waited nervously for the medical leader to visit as the translator had promised.

Obi-Wan had been expecting the medical leader to be the surgeon who'd operated on Anakin, but instead he was a completely different human man who Obi-Wan had never seen before. He arrived at mid-morning along with the translator and two other healers who were introduced with titles Obi-Wan didn't recognize. The four of them conferred over Anakin's bedside, delivering updates on his condition which were relayed to Obi-Wan by the translator. He was relieved to have her there as while he could get the gist of what they were saying, they still used a lot of medical terminology that went over his head. They seemed to be under the impression that Obi-Wan didn't understand any Mando'a at all and he didn't have the energy to bother dispelling the assumption.

"Would you ask him about the Force suppressors?" Obi-Wan asked the translator, trying to remember the term she'd used last night. "The, uh, ne'jetii'dral? I don't think they're agreeing with him—"

The translator glanced at Anakin's bedside and the healers and then back at Obi-Wan with a skeptical look. "Oh?"

"He was awake for a bit last night," Obi-Wan said. "But then he passed out again."

"Really?" the translator said. "I'm surprised given the level of sedation he's under."

"He was… very disoriented," Obi-Wan said. "And confused about who I was."

"He didn't recognize you?"

"No, he did, he just didn't believe I was me, he thought I was an imposter or—something. He wasn't very coherent."

She blinked. "Okay, uh, hold on—" She motioned to the healers, interrupting them to explain what Obi-Wan had reported.

The medical leader was already frowning at Anakin's chart before the translator had finished speaking. "Who set this dosage?" he asked the other two healers, or, at least, Obi-Wan was reasonably sure that soluur was dosage in this context.

The healer on his left, a human woman, looked over the medical leader's shoulder at the datascreen. "The emergency team would have seen him," she answered, pitching her voice low as if she didn't want Obi-Wan to hear.

"Emergency shouldn't be setting drug protocol like this," the medical leader answered. "Who signed off on it?"

The three healers hunched together over the datascreen. They started speaking faster and quieter, and Obi-Wan lost track of their conversation, but some bureaucratic point of medical procedure seemed to be at issue. Their voices got quieter and quieter until they were hissing at each other in an undertone while they gestured at the screen.

"Just a moment, they're, um, discussing possible drug interactions," the translator said. She seemed embarrassed that the three healers were clearly on the verge of an argument. Obi-Wan wanted badly to lean in so he could hear them better, but he also didn't want to alert them to just how much he could actually understand.

"—protocol for prisoner transports," the woman said, raising her voice loud enough that Obi-Wan could hear her clearly. "Not long-term care, the side effects—"

"Tell that to the Security Agency," the other healer said. "It's out of our hands."

The medical leader stood up straighter as if he'd come to a decision and said loudly, speaking over both of them. "This is a medenter, we treat patients, not prisoners." He swiped at the datascreen with his thumb and entered something with a definitive motion.

"You're lowering the dosage?" the translator clarified, still in Mando'a.

"Canceling it," the medical leader said. One of the other healers started to protest, but he waved his complaint aside. "The Security Agency can do whatever they want to patients in their custody. They don't have jurisdiction to override medical decisions inside this center."

"Thank you," Obi-Wan said, leaning past the translator to speak directly to him. The medical leader gave a brief nod in response and the team departed to continue their rounds.

Chapter Text

Obi-Wan felt a dull kind of relief after the medical team left. For the first time since this ordeal had begun, it sank in that everything was going to be all right. Anakin would be fine. He had survived this latest brush with death as he'd survived many other incidents in his short but eventful life. He would wake up soon, whenever the remaining Force suppressors in his system wore off.

Obi-Wan should be able to relax now and finally rest, but he still felt unsettled. In the quiet of the room, sitting next to Anakin's bed, he closed his eyes and finally let himself look at the root of his disturbed mind.

It was a struggle to meditate. Staying in the moment and sitting with his own thoughts and feelings felt so uncomfortable. There was a sharp terror that was goading Obi-Wan even now, eating at the edges of his awareness: his fear for Anakin's life. Just thinking about it directly made Obi-Wan's heart rate start to speed up. The pain of it was so sharp that it was hard to focus on directly, but he couldn't let himself look away.

The morning it had happened—when had it been? Yesterday? That seemed impossible; it felt like an entire week had passed, but it was true. Yesterday, when Obi-Wan had his vision, and while he was rushing to the Indoctrination Center, he had been terrified that Anakin would die before he could get to him. He'd been so afraid that he wouldn't get there in time and Anakin would bleed out surrounded by enemies and strangers, reaching for Obi-Wan in the Force but unable to find him.

Picturing it made a cold wash of horror fill him even now, but instead of turning away from his fear, Obi-Wan made himself think about it, playing out the worst case scenario in his head. What would have happened if Anakin had died? What if it had happened right then while their minds were connected? What would he have done? How would he have reacted?

The fear built up, growing so strong it felt like he was on the edge of a swoon. His head was buzzing and his heart raced as he took a deep breath and let himself imagine it.

I think I would have collapsed. They'd have to carry me out of the meeting room. It would be too much to bear. I'd have fallen apart.

And then? If the worst had happened, what would he have done next?

Obi-Wan remembered kneeling next to Qui-Gon's body, feeling the terrible emptiness inside as his master's presence was torn away by death. Pain and rage that had no outlet and the heavy weight of the body in his lap. He remembered watching Satine fall, tumbling to the ground only feet from where he was restrained. The smell of burnt flesh and the thud as she collapsed. Grief rising up like a tidal wave, sweeping away everything and leaving him weak and helpless in its wake.

The thought of losing Anakin in the same way was an awful black void that threatened to swallow him up. But Obi-Wan already knew how he would respond. He was no stranger to grief. If the worst happened—if it happened again—then...

I would let him go, knowing it was Anakin's time to unite with the Force, knowing that he was safe and free from pain in its embrace, and that one day I would join him there. And I would carry on, knowing that the Force still had need of me. And even if I struggled with that, even in the midst of my trials, Anakin's memory would be a comfort to me.

Obi-Wan opened his eyes and breathed out. His heart felt lighter, some of the tension he'd been holding onto finally released. Yes, it might have happened like that, but it didn't. Anakin would die one day, maybe even while Obi-Wan was still alive, and he would have to accept it when it happened, but not today. Today he was alive and Obi-Wan would do everything in his power to keep him safe.

A soft chime woke Obi-Wan from sleep. It was a bell-like, mechanical sound. Some sort of medical alert probably, but not an urgent one. He had the vague sense that this chime had been going off periodically for some time, but he felt too comfortable to get up and investigate. Silence stretched and he was on the verge of dropping back to sleep when the noise came again, that same bell-like sound. It was timed in such a way that Obi-Wan was almost lulled back to sleep during each interval of silence only to be jarred awake again by the irritating, mechanical chime.

He sighed as it went off again, waking him just on the edge of drifting off. He realized it was not going to stop without intervention. It rang again as Obi-Wan rolled out of the low cot. There were lights flashing on the wall above Anakin's bed, but he had no idea what they meant. He started searching for the datascreen. Surely that would tell him what the alarm meant. It wasn't on the wall where it should be or sitting on any of the chairs. The chime came again.

Obi-Wan started to check the foot of the bed for the datascreen—did it get covered up under the sheets?—and froze. The bed was empty. Panic set in as he looked up and saw that the fresher door was open and unoccupied. Anakin wasn't anywhere in the room.

Obi-Wan let out a curse that would have amused Anakin if he had been present to hear it and rushed out into the hallway. Where did he go? How did he manage to go anywhere?

Obi-Wan took a deep breath and reached out in the Force. For a moment there was nothing—only an emptiness that sent his heartbeat speeding up in panic—but then—there—a familiar, if faint pulse in the distance. Obi-Wan rushed down the hall toward it, the sensation growing clearer as he drew closer.

It was very late and the corridors were deserted, thank the Force. Anakin's wandering didn't seem to have set off any security alarms—at least not visibly.

There was a tug at the edges of his attention, a deliberate signal like Anakin had sensed him coming. Obi-Wan followed it all the way down the long hallway until he reached the central hub of this wing of the medcenter. Other hallways led off from the hub and at its center was a little enclosed garden. Obi-Wan entered the courtyard, feeling a tug again on the edge of his senses. It was dark except for low lights running along the ground outlining the paths. He passed the shapes of hardy desert plants and low shrubs native to this part of Sundari.

Anakin was sitting on a bench at the center of a gravel clearing. He was sprawled out in a way that suggested insolence but made Obi-Wan suspect he had collapsed there. His bare feet were stretched out in front of him and his head was tipped back against the bench.

'There you are," Obi-Wan snapped. "I woke up and you were gone. What were you thinking—"

"The ceiling's glassed but there's no stars," Anakin said, still staring straight up and otherwise giving no sign he'd noticed Obi-Wan.

"No," Obi-Wan said, irritation coloring his tone as he sat down next to him on the bench. "Between the dome and the atmospheric haze, they're usually not visible inside the city."

"Dome?" Anakin sounded out of it, like the remaining drugs in his system were still giving him a sense of unreality.

"All of the cities on Mandalore are domed," Obi-Wan explained. "The atmosphere was poisoned centuries ago."

"Whoa." Anakin's forehead creased as he considered this. "Why haven't they terraformed it?"

Obi-Wan shrugged. "There have been attempts, but planetary engineering takes decades and there's always been another conflict to interrupt the process."

"So they can't go outside at all?" he asked in a horrified tone.

"No, you can," Obi-Wan said. "The atmosphere is still breathable, just heavily polluted." This was so wildly off track of what they should be talking about, but then Obi-Wan did want to encourage Anakin's interest in Mandalore. "For short periods, especially with precautions, it's fine, but long-term exposure is unhealthy."

"Huh," Anakin said. "That sucks."

"Yes," Obi-Wan agreed. "Quite. Did you really come out here because you wanted to see the stars?"

Anakin waved a lazy hand at Obi-Wan and sat up with a pained noise. "I was going to try to make a run for it, but then I realized I have no idea where we are or where I would go so... uh…" He shrugged.

Obi-Wan sighed. "That was a very impulsive plan."

"Yup," Anakin agreed in a cheerful tone.

"We're in Sundari," Obi-Wan added. "North of the government district."

Anakin nodded and looked thoughtful for a moment before saying, "That tells me nothing."

"All the more reason not to try any more ill-conceived escape attempts."

"Probably," he agreed.

"Can we go back to the room now?" Obi-Wan said. "If we're done soaking in the atmosphere."

Anakin shrugged. "I was going to come back, but I started to feel kind of woozy?" He raised his hand and waved it in a vague gesture. "Like I might pass out?"

Obi-Wan raised his eyebrows. "Perhaps because you're recovering from a serious injury and major surgery?"

"—and then I saw this bench," Anakin continued as if he hadn't interrupted. "So I figured I'd just sit here for a bit and eventually someone would come find me." He gave Obi-Wan a lopsided smile. "And then you did!"

"Great." Obi-Wan pinched the bridge of his nose. He was definitely still drugged. "Anakin, I know it isn't easy right now, but I need you to trust me."

Anakin frowned at him, his expression almost comical in its guileless simplicity. "I do trust you," he said, his lower lip sticking out in a pout. "I just don't understand—you're acting so weird." He looked around and gestured at their surroundings. "I don't understand any of this," he said, finishing with an accusatory wave of his hand at Obi-Wan himself.

"I know it's confusing, padawan." Obi-Wan tried to reach for Anakin's hand, but he pulled it back before Obi-Wan could take it. "That's why I need your trust. I need you to trust that I am doing everything I can to—that I am acting in your best interests." There was more he wanted to say, much more, but this wasn't a conversation they should be having out in public. Even at night, in this seemingly deserted courtyard, there could be eyes and ears on them.

Anakin's frown deepened and he lowered his head, looking down at his lap. "I guess I… I know you'd never do anything to hurt me, Master, but—" He shook his head. "But what if trusting you means betraying the Republic? Betraying the Jedi? Betraying everything you taught me—"

"You aren't betraying anything, you're a prisoner," Obi-Wan said. "But don't worry about any of that now. Just believe me." He lowered his voice, finishing in a whisper, "Anakin, I will get you out of here, I promise."

Anakin raised his head and looked Obi-Wan in the eye. There was a sudden clarity to him, in his face and his Force signature, as if the drugged haze hanging over him had momentarily lifted. He nodded his head.

Obi-Wan looked away, shifting and glanced around the courtyard before clearing his throat and looking back at Anakin. "Do you still feel like you're going to pass out or can I take you back to your room now?"

Anakin stretched and rolled his shoulders. He sat up straighter as he assessed himself before standing with careful slowness like a drunk trying very hard to appear sober. For a moment he stood straight, but then he wavered on his feet and took a stumbling half-step back toward the bench. Obi-Wan grabbed his arm to steady him before he could tip over.

"I don't think I can walk on my own," he said unnecessarily.

"Okay," Obi-Wan said with a sigh. He got his arm under Anakin's shoulders and braced him as he climbed to his feet. "Come on, let's go."

Chapter Text

There was a summons from the Mand'alor waiting for Obi-Wan when he checked his messages. The medcenter had several public holo-terminals in a lounge area for the convenience of visitors. It was still early in the morning and the room was empty so no one saw him startle at the blue, glowing visage of Bo-Katan Kryze. She wanted him to meet with her later that same day. Obi-Wan had a momentary flash of panic that it was related to Anakin's nighttime wanderings before sense reasserted itself. Kryze wouldn't bother herself with a minor security issue like that; they would simply come take Anakin back to the Indoctrination Center without warning.

Obi-Wan walked back down the corridor to Anakin's room, passing two droids and an attendant who were delivering food to the patients and their families. Obi-Wan collected the tray intended for the two of them and brought it back with him.

"Breakfast," he announced as he walked into the room. Anakin squinted at him bleary-eyed. He was sitting up in bed, but clearly still groggy.

Anakin pulled a face when Obi-Wan placed a glass in front of him containing a light gray liquid. It looked like one of the shakes served at Dex's Diner, but excluding all of the ingredients that made Dex's concoctions enjoyable.

"Is this all I get?" Anakin asked and sniffed at it dubiously.

"They said you're only allowed non-solids," Obi-Wan explained. "But there's also dessert!" He held up a bowl which contained a pile of gelatinous green cubes. The cubes continued jiggling after he set it down.

"Great," Anakin said and poked at his cubes.

Obi-Wan ate his own, solid breakfast quickly, not wanting to tempt Anakin with it. If he somehow managed to get a few of Obi-Wan's oi-oi berries, well, hopefully that wouldn't be too detrimental to his recovery.

"You have physical therapy this morning—" Obi-Wan said, consulting the schedule on the datascreen after he finished.

"Can't wait," Anakin grumbled and slurped one of his cubes.

"—which is good because I have to step out for a bit."

"Step out?"

"I have an appointment."

"An appointment?" Anakin wrinkled his nose. "With who?"

"It doesn't matter," Obi-Wan said. "But I'll be gone for a few hours."

"Oh?" There was a hopeful rise in Anakin's voice.

Obi-Wan lowered his chin and gave him the gimlet-eyed stare that he had perfected while Anakin was a padawan. "I trust you will still be here when I return."

"You can't blame me for—"

"I said, I trust you will still be here."

Anakin took a breath and then let it out in an annoyed huff. "Fine, whatever, it's not like I can get very far right now."

"That's the spirit," Obi-Wan said. He patted Anakin on the shoulder before standing up. "Save your strength."

Anakin rolled his eyes.

There was a starkness to the architecture in the government district. The tower that housed the Mand'alor's office rose at the center of sleek administrative buildings. It was a heavy, stone edifice with centuries of history. It had been built to intimidate but also to suggest stability; a physical display of enduring power. In truth, the tower and most of the surrounding buildings had been damaged repeatedly over the past few decades and wholly rebuilt in parts. There were tells if you looked for them—new stone that was less worn than the blocks next to it, metal that gleamed instead of displaying a rich patina from years of usage. Mandalore was an adaptable nation. Repairs were made, new parts substituted for old, but the empire endured.

Obi-Wan was late. He had an excuse prepared, but forgot it the moment he saw Jango Fett in the antechamber next to a display of ceremonial weapons. He was standing in front of the guards, clearly waiting his turn to enter the Mand'alor's office. Obi-Wan was not expecting to see the Indoctrination director again so soon and it took him a few seconds to recover and think of an appropriately snide comment to make to the man.

"You're here too?" Obi-Wan said as he approached. "Shouldn't you be back at the Center making sure none of your other recruits get stabbed?" That was over the line, but Obi-Wan felt too blindsided to muster up his usual polite facade.

Fett looked unsurprised, as if he had been expecting Obi-Wan. Without hesitation, he put his hands together and bowed in a very un-Mando like gesture. "Ni ceta," he said, I kneel, the most formal apology in Mando'a. "It should not have happened. I take full responsibility."

Obi-Wan had been ready to tear into him and was more than a little annoyed to have Fett preempt him with this show of repentance. There were a lot of things Obi-Wan wanted to say in response, but he bowed back instead, courtesy too ingrained in him not to accept an apology given in good faith. And Fett really was sincere. He was irritated about it, Obi-Wan could sense that and see it in every tense line of his body, but he was also an honorable man who knew when to admit mistakes.

There was a cough behind them. Bo-Katan was standing at the doorway of her office. "If you're finished?" she said, and gestured for them to come inside.

They took seats around a holotable situated in one of the alcoves of the Mand'alor's office. Bo-Katan liked to use it for briefings and Obi-Wan had sat in the same spot several times before.

"He's improving?" Bo-Katan asked as they took their seats.

"Yes," Obi-Wan said. "They say he'll make a full recovery. But I doubt you called me here to get an update on Anakin's progress."

Bo-Katan huffed a laugh. "No, I thought your expertise on the Sith might be helpful for Jango's investigation."

"Investigation?" Obi-Wan said.

Fett nodded. "We have reason to believe the three Sith recruits were deliberately planted as infiltrators."

Obi-Wan tilted his head. "Reasons aside from them attempting to kill my son?"

"Yes…" Fett hesitated. "A transmitter was found in one of their cells. They'd managed to access the ventilation ducts and had it hidden there."

Obi-Wan closed his eyes and sighed. "How did they manage to get a transmitter?"

"We haven't determined that yet," Fett said. "But it's a low-power model, suggesting that if they were communicating with someone…"

"They're on planet," Obi-Wan finished for him and put his hand to his forehead. "I assume you've begun looking for suspects?"

"Yes," Bo-Katan said. "There have been nine successful recruits who were formerly part of the Sith military and we are investigating all of them, but we're trying to do it in a way that doesn't put them on alert."

"Right," Obi-Wan said. He pinched the bridge of his nose. His eyes were aching from tiredness and he resisted the urge to rub them. "Yes, that makes sense. If there's a larger network involved here then we don't want to alert the Sith to the fact that their infiltration has been discovered."

"Glad you approve," Fett grumbled.

"There's more," Bo-Katan said. "Given what a huge breach of security this was and the weaknesses it's shown in our evaluations of new Mandalorians, I've ordered a security review of all foreign recruits indoctrinated in the past three years."

Obi-Wan frowned and leaned forward. "Does that include me?" he asked, unable to keep the incredulous tone out of his voice.

"Yes," she said.

He let out a frustrated sigh. "Well, I can't fault your thoroughness… does that mean my security clearance is suspended?"

"For the duration of the investigation, yes," Bo-Katan said. Obi-Wan started to protest, but she held out her hand to mollify him. "But it hardly matters since you're on family leave."

Obi-Wan raised his eyebrows. "I'm what?"

"Your son could have died," Bo-Katan said firmly. "You're on leave."

"Fine." Obi-Wan had to fight against his instinct to take that as a slight. She was trying to be compassionate in her overbearing way, not punish him for being unable to put aside his emotional turmoil and continue to do his job. "Does that mean you won't keep me updated on the investigation?"

She shook her head, looking thoughtful. "No, under the circumstances I don't think that will be necessary." She turned to Fett. "At least not when it comes to the Sith. Jango, continue."

"We believe all three of them were part of the infiltration team," Fett said. "They were originally all captured together on Kursmesum a month ago."

Obi-Wan frowned. He remembered the incident. Kursmesum was one of the outlying Mandalorian settlements that edged close to Sith territory. Minor clashes there weren't unusual and it hadn't stood out from the larger pattern of activity along the border. "I thought all of the Sith soldiers involved in that were killed?"

"So did the Sith," Fett said.

"The three of them were left behind after the engagement," Bo-Katan explained. "At the time, we were relieved it didn't blow up into anything bigger and assumed it was a result of how little the Sith care for their own soldier's lives..."

"But now we know otherwise," Obi-Wan said and sighed.

"Yes, it was a set up," Bo-Katan said. "Maybe every time we've captured Sith forces has been."

"We know they had the transmitter," Fett said. "So they were likely in communication with a handler. We suspect that after they got to the Center, they reported Skywalker's presence and received new orders to target him."

"Could they have been sent specifically because of Anakin?" Obi-Wan asked.

Fett shook his head. "It seems unlikely, the timeline's too tight. We think their handler must have decided it was worth blowing their cover in order to assassinate a Jedi general."

"Risky," Obi-Wan said. "They've destroyed their chance of ever getting another operative inside Mandalore."

"Maybe," Bo-Katan said. "But they don't know that yet and Anakin is high profile. He's been featured in the Republic's war propaganda."

Obi-Wan nodded, unsurprised. He hasn't been able to watch the Republic's official channels during the past year, but he could imagine. Anakin had already been getting quite a lot of attention early in the war due to his youth, good looks, and tendency toward dramatic fighting strategies; with Obi-Wan "missing" and Anakin promoted, it would make sense to feature him heavily.

But something still seemed off to Obi-Wan. "Is it possible this was all a pretext to create tension between Mandalore and the Republic? If it got out that Mandalore captured a Jedi and he died in custody…"

"That had crossed my mind," Bo-Katan admitted. "It could even be grounds for war."

"The Republic hasn't said anything about Anakin's capture, right?" Obi-Wan said. "I assume his status is Missing in Action like with me?"

Bo-Katan nodded. "Yes. There are rumors, of course, but nothing has been confirmed officially and I doubt they ever will. Having a general defect during wartime is too much of a morale blow to admit openly."

Obi-Wan let out a small sigh of relief. "Good. Yes, it's for the best if everyone keeps pretending not to know where I am."

"Another possibility is that the Sith might not like Mandalore recruiting more Jedi," Bo-Katan said. "We're at a disadvantage now as the only major power without Force-sensitive warriors, but if that were to change..."

"Hm, maybe," Obi-Wan said, stroking his chin. He looked away, trying to act as if this was a novel idea to him. "A single Jedi isn't much to be concerned about, but if I'm only the start of a new recruitment program… yes, I can see why they'd be afraid of that. But, if that's the case, why not wait until I was visiting and try to kill us both at the same time?"

"Access?" Fett suggested. "Even if they had support from outside, it would be much harder to get to you than it would be to get to a fellow recruit."

"True," Obi-Wan said. He shrugged, giving up for the moment on puzzling out the broader meaning of the attack. "It's entirely possible these spies took it upon themselves to go after Anakin and it wasn't an order at all. Becoming a Jedi-killer is a great promotion opportunity amongst the Sith. I assume you've interrogated all of them?"

Fett nodded. "We haven't gotten much out of them yet, but we will."

"Hm." Obi-Wan rather doubted that. Sith infiltrators were no doubt very resistant to torture. "Well, it seems you have the investigation well at hand—"

"Thank you," Fett said with an edge of sarcasm.

"—but if that's all, I should probably be heading back." Obi-Wan glanced at the chronometer hanging over the entrance of the office, conscious of the fact that Anakin's physical therapy session would be ending soon.

"There is another matter," Fett began, looking at Bo-Katan and then giving Obi-Wan a sideways glance. "About the boy—"

"No," Obi-Wan said, his hackles already raised.

"You could let me finish," Fett said.

"Why when I know what you're going to say?" Obi-Wan said. "No."

Bo-Katan gave him a warning look. "Kenobi."

"He still needs to complete the program," Fett said, his tone impassive. "Once he's recovered, he'll have to restart Indoctrination."

Obi-Wan smiled in a way that was more a baring of teeth than an expression of mirth. "If you think I'm letting him go back to that place, you are very mistaken."

Bo-Katan rested her chin on her fist. She seemed interested in their sparring and didn't intervene to stop them.

"We do have the Sith contained," Fett said, sounding like he was simply saying it for argument's sake rather than having any expectation it would convince Obi-Wan. "He won't be in any danger."

"For all you know, one of your staff was involved in this," Obi-Wan said. "How else would they manage to smuggle in a transmitter and make an improvised weapon?"

Fett's face twitched and he didn't snarl but it seemed a near thing. "I have no reason to doubt the loyalty of my Indoctrinators—"

Obi-Wan huffed derisively.

"But I'm looking into it," he said. "And it will be a thorough investigation."

Bo-Katan raised a hand, finally calling a halt to their squabbling. "I think, under the circumstances, it would be acceptable for Skywalker to go home with Obi-Wan… at least for the near term."

Obi-Wan inhaled sharply, surprised and relieved. "Thank you, Mand'alore," he said and bowed his head to her.

"But I can't have him wandering the capital unsecured," she warned.

"I won't let him out of my sight," he promised.

"I'm assigning a guard detail." At Obi-Wan's expression she added, "This isn't up for debate. Until he swears the Resol'nare he's a security risk. And he will have to swear."

Obi-Wan sighed. "Right, I understand. And it's not like he'll be in any shape to go strolling around the city," he said, lying outrageously. "No, this will be good, it will give me time to work with him. I'll have more success than the Indoctrinators."

Fett stifled a snort.

"Do you have some commentary you'd like to add, Director?" Obi-Wan said.

"Only that you don't have any training in Indoctrination aside from personal experience," he said. "It's a delicate process, it won't be so easy to manage alone and out of a controlled environment." Addressing Bo-Katan he added, "it takes time and experience, Mand'alor."

"You might have experience with hundreds of other recruits," Obi-Wan said. "But you've only managed one Jedi."

Fett shrugged. "Worked on you."

"I was a unique circumstance," Obi-Wan said. "Anakin is a very different person. What worked on me will not work on him. He needs personal attention from someone who understands him and knows about his personal issues with the Jedi."

"And I supposed you're that person?" Fett said dryly.

"There isn't anyone else," Obi-Wan said, trying to keep his voice neutral. He didn't want to seem too eager, but he'd put a lot of thought into this the past few days. He'd been rehearsing what he'd say, his arguments honed to appeal to Mandalorian biases and reasoning.

"What sorts of issues?" Bo-Katan asked, giving Obi-Wan the opening he was hoping for.

"He began his Jedi training late and has always had one foot outside of the Order," Obi-Wan said. "It's never been a good fit for him and he's become a very… unconventional Jedi. One who probably violates the Code multiple times a day."

Fett nodded once, conceding that Obi-Wan had a point. "Skywalker does have disciplinary issues," he said to Bo-Katan before glancing back at Obi-Wan and adding, "although perhaps that's a shared trait of all Jedi."

Obi-Wan smiled at him insincerely. "It's a religious order, Director, not a military outfit. Jedi are expected to think for themselves, not mindlessly obey orders."

"That's not what I've heard," Fett said.

"I mean as special forces," Obi-Wan said, raising his voice in irritation. "They have to be able to act independently in complex situations. Theology aside, Jedi are not meant to—"

"But you're saying he's broken his vows?" Bo-Katan interrupted, concern clear in her tone. Being an oathbreaker was not something Mandalorians took lightly and, for a potential recruit, it could be a lethal trait.

Obi-Wan shook his head and raised his hand in a yes-and-no gesture. "There's a certain amount of—personal interpretation allowed in how the Jedi Code is practiced, but Anakin often… pushed the limits."

"How?" Bo-Katan asked, narrowing her eyes.

"Going beyond his mandate on missions," Obi-Wan said, starting down the laundry list in his head. "Acting impulsively. Losing his temper. Putting personal feelings above duty. Being unhealthily attached to others." He raised one eyebrow. "Me, for instance."

Bo-Katan nodded and sat back in her chair, looking less concerned now. "I get the picture. You think the same traits will make him a good Mandalorian."

"Yes," Obi-Wan said. "And it's like I told you—where I go, Anakin will follow."

Chapter Text

Obi-Wan was in a paranoid frame of mind as he left the government district. Why would the Mand'alor grant him permission to take Anakin home? He was relieved she had, but the unexpected boon made him suspicious. Had his meeting with Bo-Katan and Jango Fett all been part of an elaborate plot? Maybe they knew about Anakin's first escape attempt, brief as it had been, and were waiting for him to try again and implicate Obi-Wan before they arrested them both. It was very possible that they were preparing to frame him. If the Sith-infiltration of the Indoctrination program became public knowledge, Obi-Wan would make for a convenient scapegoat. They could claim he was a fallen Jedi who had been colluding with the Sith all along. It would be easy to create a pretext to arrest him—or even set the stage for a total purge of all Mandalorians with a Republic or a Sith background. That way, Bo-Katan could get rid of all of the troublesome foreign recruits in one clean sweep.

Obi-Wan thought—hoped, really—that his swirling thoughts were only paranoia. He hadn't sensed any duplicity in either Bo-Katan or Fett during their meeting, although there was clearly much that they were keeping from him. Still, he needed to be very careful. He would be under close watch and Anakin could easily do or say something that would end with both of their executions.

Obi-Wan made his way back to the medcenter, his mind clouded with dark thoughts. As he approached the familiar room, he was surprised to find himself walking into a bubble of warm happiness that contrasted strongly with his own grim mood.

"Hi," Anakin said, looking up with a smile as Obi-Wan entered. He was sitting up in bed and his face had a healthy flush to it.

"Hello," Obi-Wan said. "You're in a good mood?"

Anakin's smile dropped as he pulled a face. "I'm not—I mean, it's nothing. I just noticed something, that's all."

"What?"

"I could sense you coming," Anakin said, his smile returning as if he couldn't keep it contained.

"Good!" Obi-Wan took a seat in the chair by his bedside. "That was fast."

"Yeah, it still feels kind of—muted?" Anakin raised his hand and waved it next to his head. "It's like there's a layer of frosted transparisteel between me and the Force, but at least it's there."

"It may take some time to wear off completely," Obi-Wan said. "I found the effects lingered even after I'd been off the drugs for over a week."

Anakin frowned. "But you're back to normal right? It didn't damage your connection to the Force?"

"No, no." Obi-Wan paused. "Or not that I noticed. But it took longer than I liked to recover fully."

Anakin made a worried noise. His expression became vague as he focused inward, likey reaching out and testing his senses. His eyes narrowed and nearly crossed as he concentrated on something in the Force.

"How was physical therapy?" Obi-Wan asked, drawing Anakin's attention back to him.

Anakin shook his head, refocusing on Obi-Wan, and shrugged. "Fine? They had me walk around and told me all the things I'm not allowed to do until the doctors give me the all-clear. I can't do proper exercise or anything, just light stretching."

"Wise advice," Obi-Wan said and Anakin rolled his eyes. "How do you feel? Are they still giving you medication for the pain?"

"Yeah, but I'm fine, it's not that bad now." Anakin lifted one flap of his medical robe and looked at the bandages underneath, frowning a little. "But I wish they'd just put me in bacta and pull me out when it was healed."

"Mandalorians usually don't use bacta tanks outside of battlefield injuries," Obi-Wan explained. "It's rationed very carefully."

Anakin made an irritated noise and re-belted his robe. "Whatever, I'll be fine, it'll just take time."

"You might not be able to achieve a healing trance on your own, but have you tried any of the simpler healing techniques?"

Anakin's eyebrows rose up into his hairline and he stared at Obi-Wan wide-eyed. "...no."

Why was Anaki acting so shocked? Was he really that out of practice? "Do you—want to try? A basic body scan would be helpful, at least. Even if you can't speed up your own healing, it will help with managing the pain." There was a pause, and when Anakin didn't respond, Obi-Wan added, "I could facilitate."

Anakin glanced around the room. He lowered his voice and said softly, "Is that… allowed?"

"Uh—I don't know why it wouldn't be?" Obi-Wan tilted his head. "I doubt any of the healers here would care. Or even know what we were doing."

Anakin's frown deepened and he looked very doubtful.

"It was only a suggestion," Obi-Wan said. "We don't have to—"

"No," Anakin said. "If you think it's all right then… sure." He shifted around and lay back on the bed with his arms at his sides while Obi-Wan got up and stood beside him.

Obi-Wan wasn't particularly gifted in the healing arts, but he'd been trained in the basic techniques like all Jedi. The purpose of a scan was to guide a patient through a self-examination of the entire body and identify any injuries or blockages, whether physical or spiritual. "Let's begin at the head, starting at the crown, noting the sensations present there, not trying to change anything, but simply noting what they are… Good, now breathe…" Obi-Wan waited as Anakin's breathing slowed and he fell into a light trance. "Now bringing your attention to the forehead, and to the sensations there...."

As they continued through Anakin's entire body and his awareness grew, Obi-Wan could sense the pain from Anakin's injury like a fiery knot of light in his abdomen. The glow was dulled by painkillers, but lines of tension from it traveled throughout his entire body. Invisible paths of discomfort moved through his limbs and up and down his spine like lines of burning brush in a forest fire. These lines of tension sparked blazes in other parts of his body, lighting up nerves with pain far distant from the actual, physical injury.

There was one such ball of pain in Anakin's right shoulder. When they reached that area of his body, Obi-Wan lightly touched his fingers there. The connection between them heightened at the touch, and Obi-Wan could feel an echo of the same pain in his own shoulder.

"Let your focus rest softly, not forcing it to remain, but returning if the mind wanders. Note what you're feeling, not trying to change it, but let the sensations continue or cease as they will." Anakin's breathing remained steady and his muscles tightened and then released as he accepted what he was feeling. The bright light in his shoulder dimmed as the lines of pain sustaining it became weaker.

A heavy wave of tiredness passed over Anakin. The effort of focusing his attention was becoming taxing. "It's all right to fall asleep," Obi-Wan said. "I'll continue while you rest."

There was a feeling of agreement, although Anakin was too deep in trance now to answer in words.

"Moving on to the upper chest," Obi-Wan continued. "Noting the sensations present there, not trying to change anything, but simply noting what they are… "

Chapter Text

"—and you'll be provided with outpatient instructions, nothing too complicated," the medical leader said, looking up at Obi-Wan from his datascreen. "Mainly dietary recommendations."

"The instructions will be in Basic," the translator, Questa, added and Obi-Wan gave her a closed-lipped smile. Obi-Wan's medical vocabulary had expanded greatly thanks to his crash course over the past week at the medcenter, but it was still helpful to have Questa's assistance when the healers lapsed into medical jargon or used familiar terms in unfamiliar ways.

Case in point—the medical leader kept using a point scale to describe Anakin's strength, which Obi-Wan assumed was some kind of objective measure of physical health.

"He was rated this morning at three point five, and we're expecting he'll be at a four by tomorrow," the medical leader continued. "Assuming he doesn't have any setbacks, he'll be ready to be released on Seventh Day." It was Fifth Day today so that was only two days away. Anakin had healed quickly—faster probably than the Mandalorian healers had expected.

"A four means he can walk for short distances," one of the other healers explained, a Pantoran man who was a rehabilitation specialist. "And complete all bodily functions unaided." There was a rotating cast of healers who showed up for these meetings with Obi-Wan every day while Anakin was in physical therapy. There seemed to be a dozen different people involved in his care, and different specialists showed up each day to give their reports on his prognosis. Obi-Wan recognized most of their faces by now, but he had mostly given up on trying to remember their names.

"Yes, sorry, right," the medical leader said. "So he can get around at home without risk of reinjury."

"I see." Obi-Wan had been relieved that the medical team expected Anakin to go home with him and not back to the Indoctrination Center. He was still in a paranoid frame of mind and had half-expected resistance to that idea despite having received Bo-Katan verbal permission. Instructions must have come down from the Mand'alor's office to the medcenter behind the scenes.

"There was something else the medical team wanted to discuss with you. We were concerned about Anakin's negative reaction to the, uh, 'Force suppressors,'" he said, using the Basic term.

"Oh?" Obi-Wan raised his eyebrows, keeping his expression open but neutral.

"This class of drug is usually only used by the military and there hasn't been much published about its effects on various species. Questa mentioned you'd discussed it with her and we were wondering if you could tell us anything you know about them."

"Uh, well…" Obi-Wan started to answer and then stopped, unsure. All five of the healers were now looking at him closely and there was a frisson of eager tension in the Force.

A pale human woman with dark hair pushed forward to stand at the medical leader's shoulder. Obi-Wan thought her name was Sarad, but he couldn't remember what her specialty was. "Specifically," maybe-Sarad said. "We're wondering if your son's disorientation is common among more 'highly-sensitive' sentients."

"Uh, I wouldn't say it's uncommon…" Obi-Wan hedged. "Force suppressors can be very unpleasant, no matter the dosage, and they can have unexpected side effects."

"What kinds of side effects?" probably-Sarad asked. "Can you be specific?"

"Oh, uhh… it would depend…" Obi-Wan hesitated. "It might help if—do you have, uh, a picture of the molecule? I'm not even sure what this drug is that you're using."

There was a frantic moment of fumbling and rapid discussion among the healers before they managed to pull up a page from some sort of medical reference text on the datascreen.

Obi-Wan took the datascreen from them and frowned at the complex diagram, turning the screen sideways and then back upright. It had been a long time since he had learned the basic healing arts as a padawan and even longer since he had completed his living chemistry courses.

"I think this is—in the Republic we'd call it a mychloric inhibitor, a class of drugs that interferes with the activity of the midichlorians, disrupting the signals they share with their hosts, which, uh—" Obi-Wan cut himself off as he looked up and saw that the healers had all leaned in closer with identical looks of intense interest.

"Midichlorian—is that the neral'baar?" the medical leader asked, turning to the Questa.

She nodded. "Yes, that's right."

"Do you know what yo'baar'gaane are affected by the drugs?" Sarad asked Obi-Wan, using a term he hadn't heard before.

Obi-Wan glanced at Questa and said in an undertone in Basic, "Cell hands?"

"Cellular receptors," she translated. "The proteins that receive chemical signals."

"Got it," Obi-Wan said.

"Sorry, yes," Sarad said. "What I mean is that we know very little about what actually happens inside the cells with these suppressors."

"Uh… I couldn't tell you more than the basics of how they work." Obi-Wan gave a self-deprecating shrug. "I was never a healer. Or a scientist."

Sarad nodded, seeming to take that at face value. "Your son's side effects were extreme, but we're unsure if that was due to the high dosage or a reaction to this specific drug."

Obi-Wan shrugged. "I could only speculate, as far as I know he's never been exposed to such drugs before."

The medical leader frowned. "Your 'healers' don't use anything to suppress Force-powers during procedures?"

"No!" Obi-Wan let out a laugh in spite of himself. "That would be—Jedi healers use the Force to connect with their patients. Suppressing it would be counterproductive. And…" He lapsed into Basic, unable to think of a strong enough word in Mando'a. "Anathema."

The medical leader nodded. "I suppose that makes sense, given Jedi training…"

"I'm not sure we could dispense with them entirely," Sarad said. "We can't have unconscious patients using their Force-powers on staff."

"There's a particular case study that often comes up," the medical leader explained to Obi-Wan. "A patient who was able to psychically push away a team of surgeons and throw equipment around the room."

Obi-Wan nodded. "That would certainly be disruptive."

"But if you could communicate with your unconscious patients," Sarad said, thinking out loud. "Like a Jedi could, then that wouldn't be a problem."

"Sorry, what's 'anathema'?" It was the Rodian healer, a gastrointestinal specialist, who hadn't spoken up until now.

"Oh, it means like…" Obi-Wan paused, searching for a similar word in Mando'a. "Shuk'shev'la." Disturbing.

"Or urman'jurkad," Questa said, using a compound word Obi-Wan had never heard before. "Sacrilegious."

"Yes, that's closer."

"Urman'jurkad?" the Rodian repeated incredulously.

"Well, they're Jedi," Sarad said.

"They see their Force-powers as a supernatural gift," Questa explained, trying to be helpful.

"That's not really…" Obi-Wan restrained himself from putting his hand to his forehead. He really wished the conversation hadn't gone in this direction. "The Force is more than just mere abilities," he said, trying to explain. "It's a form of communication or communion with the energy field that binds the universe together." There was no native word in Mando'a for the Force, which made this awkward to explain. When Mandalorians spoke of the Force they spoke of "jetti-dral"—Jedi powers—rather than the energy field itself. It was a very practical understanding; a military conception of Jedi as opponents with a set of skills rather than a spiritual concept.

"It's like manda!" Questa said, sounding excited to have an insight to share.

"Uh, I don't know if—"

"I mean in the old religious sense," she clarified. "Manda used to mean like—the afterlife, but more…" She waved a hand as if she was searching for a word. "Not like a physical place that you go to. The belief was that when a Mandalorian died, their runi—their soul would join with all of the others who have gone before them."

"Like a collective consciousness?" Obi-Wan asked.

"Something like that."

"Interesting, that's actually similar to Jedi beliefs about death," Obi-Wan said, surprised in spite of himself. He'd never spoken in depth with anyone about Mandalorian religious beliefs. He'd been under the impression that the majority were completely non-spiritual. As a culture, they seemed to have very little time for abstract metaphysics. "When we die, we reunite with the Force and become one with it."

She nodded. "These days, manda is used metaphorically, for the community of Mandalorians. Not that we have literal souls or that there's an actual afterlife." She sounded embarrassed and her voice took on a skeptical tone, like she wanted to be sure Obi-Wan knew she didn't actually believe such things herself.

"I see," Obi-Wan said with a smile.

"Well, this is all very interesting," the medical leader said, in a tone that suggested the opposite. "But we should be going to our next appointment."

Sarad looked annoyed, like she wanted to keep questioning Obi-Wan, but the team packed up and departed with a round of thanks and goodbyes. Obi-Wan saw them out and nodded to the helmeted soldier stationed outside the door. They ignored him, too well-disciplined to acknowledge their charge.

The new guard rotation had appeared the day after Obi-Wan's conversation with Bo-Katan; silent sentries wearing the armor and identifying markings of the commando units under the Mand'alor's personnel command. Under different circumstances, it might have been flattering that she would show such concern for one lowly advisor's family.

It was interesting that she would task her own soldiers rather than delegating the task to the officers of the Indoctrination Center. Was that a sign of her personal interest in the two Jedi recruits? Or an indication that she distrusted the Indoctrinators? Jango Fett had been appointed to his position by a previous Mand'alor and, although he must have passed certain loyalty tests to remain in office, it would be prudent of Bo-Katan not to fully trust him.

Mandalorian politicians were as cutthroat and untrustworthy as politicians on Coruscant, although here they were more likely to stab someone in the back in a literal fashion rather than doing so metaphorically.

Chapter Text

On Seventh Day, Anakin underwent a last series of checkups and was declared ready for release. They should have been able to depart the medcenter by mid-afternoon, but then there was some bureaucratic snafu that kept them waiting around for several hours for the official release order. Anakin was impatient and irritated, getting snappish with the healers and with Obi-Wan while they waited. Obi-Wan was tempted to take him and leave without official permission, but he decided it was better not to risk upsetting the healers or—worse—Anakin's guard detail. The last thing he wanted was to do was to cause an incident that would be reported to the Mand'alor and make her rethink Obi-Wan's fitness to parent.

It was late by the time they finally got the required clearance and left in the Mandalorian equivalent of a taxi—their guards following a short distance behind in their own transport. Anakin stared out of the speeder the entire ride, his face creased with an intense concentration, which Obi-Wan interpreted as him memorizing landmarks rather than actual interest in the industrialized architecture of Sundari's mid-levels.

The city's environmental lighting had dimmed to its ambient "dusk" level by the time they arrived. The sun was setting, not that you could tell from their location. The building where Obi-Wan lived was several layers below the upper levels where shafts of daylight fell from the windows in the great bio-dome enclosing the entire city.

Anakin attempted to jump out of the speeder in his usual, athletic way, but floundered the landing, stumbling and reaching back to grab the side of the speeder for balance. Obi-Wan quickly climbed out and caught him under his right armpit before he could topple over.

"'M fine," he said, leaning into Obi-Wan's hold in a way that suggested the opposite.

"It's not far, just through that door and up the lift," Obi-Wan promised as he steered Anakin into the building. One of the Mand'alor's soldiers was already standing on the arrival platform, having gotten there ahead of them. Obi-Wan nodded at the guard, who ignored him and remained outside watching the entrance.

It was late enough that the cafeteria was closed and all of the residents had retired to their rooms. Obi-Wan ushered Anakin inside and they made it past the communal space on the first level without running into anyone he knew, much to his relief. He'd been worried they'd be cornered by Reg Syko or some other busybody when all he wanted was to get Anakin inside and settled.

After a short lift ride later, they were in the hall in front of Obi-Wan's door, also blessedly empty of interlopers. "Here we are," Obi-Wan said, palming open his unit and waving on the lights and environmentals. Anakin hesitated a moment before coming inside, blinking as he looked around.

"The refresher is through there," Obi-Wan said, indicating the door on the opposite side of the room. "Hold on." Obi-Wan opened one of the storage cabinets and started pulling out floor cushions. "You should sit down."

Anakin watched, still standing next to the doorway, as Obi-Wan arranged a seating area for them and got out a low folding table to put next to it.

Anakin cleared his throat, waiting until Obi-Wan was looking at him to see his wry expression before saying, "Don't get many guests?" The bantering humor in his voice was blunted by tiredness.

"No," Obi-Wan admitted and waved for Anakin to sit down. "Do you want something to drink?" he asked as he got up and went to the kitchenette. "I have some tea—cassius florets, you can't get tarine tea out here without paying absolutely absurd prices. The cassius tea isn't bad though, once you get used to the bitterness—" Anakin shot him an irritated look and Obi-Wan cut himself off. Anakin had never cared about tea.

"Water," Anakin said, "would be good."

"Right." While Obi-Wan fussed in the kitchen, Anakin finally moved away from the door and went to sit down. He stifled a groan and made a pained face as he lowered himself down to the ground and carefully maneuvered himself onto a cushion.

"Don't hurt yourself—"

"I'm fine," Anakin said. He took one of the cushions and sat at an angle to the table, one leg folded underneath and the other stretched out in front of him. It didn't look very comfortable, but, injured or not, Anakin always had a tendency to sprawl in ways that looked uncomfortable to Obi-Wan.

Obi-Wan pulled out the steeping teapot, deciding to make a full pot of tea in case Anakin changed his mind about having any. It was a relief to have the distraction of fussing in the kitchen, at least for a moment. The kitchenette had a hot water tap that automatically dispensed water at the perfect preset temperature for tea, which was very convenient, but also meant that it didn't take very long to prepare.

Obi-Wan was used to his apartment being his private sanctuary, away from any (obvious) prying eyes or listening ears. He wasn’t used to having another person in his space, and it felt uncomfortable, even if that person was Anakin. Maybe more so because Anakin disapproved of all his recent "life choices"…

Obi-Wan brought the teapot and two cups over to the table and made himself comfortable on the single remaining cushion that Anakin wasn't using. He poured tea for himself and then motioned to the cup, asking silently if Anakin wanted any. He pulled an annoyed face, but waved his hand for Obi-Wan to go ahead.

They sat in silence while Obi-Wan poured himself a cup of tea. He picked up the cup and held it, warming his hands as he inhaled the rising steam. Cassius tea had a woodsy scent with undertones of citrus that he had grown on him.

Anakin was avoiding looking at Obi-Wan, staring around the room instead. Obi-Wan sipped his tea and let the silence stretch.

Anakin kept fidgeting and readjusting his position and the cushions he was sitting on. It was unclear if his discomfort was more in his body or in his mind. He seemed to be considering something, chewing over questions he wanted to ask probably. Instead of saying anything, he poured himself a cup of tea and sniffed at it uncertainly. He took a sip and made a face, setting it aside.

"Have you been here long?" Anakin asked, breaching the silence, although he still avoided looking directly at Obi-Wan.

"No," Obi-Wan said. "A few months. You get assigned living space after completing the program."

Anakin nodded, his eyes roaming around the room. "Where do you sleep? Is there a pull-down bunk or something?"

"Uh, no, I've got a floor mattress in there that I fold up so it's not in the way…" He motioned to one of the cabinets. The room had been designed with built-in storage along most of the walls, a convenience borrowed from spaceship living. "There's another for you… and there was supposed to be a bed frame to go with it, but they haven't requisitioned one yet." Obi-Wan had meant to request it before all of this had happened, but had never quite got around to it.

"That's okay," Anakin said with a dismissive shrug. "I don't mind sleeping on the floor."

"It's not the best for recovering—"

"It's fine," Anakin said. "I'm supposed to be practicing getting up and down off the floor anyway." He fidgeted and took a sip of tea, making a face again and setting it aside with a sigh. "Where's the bedding?" he asked, putting one hand on the floor and preparing to get to his feet.

"Are you tired?" Obi-Wan stood up before Anakin could. "Don't get up, I'll get it."

"You don't have to—"

"It's right here," Obi-Wan said, opening the cabinet next to the fresher. He pulled out the floor mat that went under the mattress for support and ventilation.

"I can get it," Anakin insisted, again starting to get up, but Obi-Wan waved for him to stay seated.

"Don't get up, I've got it." Obi-Wan unrolled the sleeping mat on the floor next to where Anakin was sitting. It was a lightweight design intended for use in the field. Obi-Wan had used one for a training exercise before his release from the Indoctrination Center and had been surprised how much more comfortable it was than his assigned bunk.

"You could have finished your tea," Anakin said.

"It will keep." He took out the mattress next and a fresh set of sheets and began putting a clean cover on the mattress. Obi-Wan had always liked the ritual of setting up his pallet for the night. The process helped bookend his days — a signal of when it was time to prepare for sleep, or, in the morning, to get ready for the day.

Obi-Wan got two pillows out of the cabinet and placed one on Anakin's pallet. He got the other sleeping mat out next and began setting up his own bed.

"You don't have to go to sleep just because I am," Anakin said, now just being contrary for contrariness's sake.

"I'm tired too," Obi-Wan insisted. "It'll be good for both of us."

Anakin rolled his eyes. He got to his feet, suppressing a wince like he was in more pain than he wanted to admit to. He went into the fresher while Obi-Wan finished assembling his bed.

When he came back out, Anakin had taken off his tunic, leaving himself in an undershirt and a pair of loose leggings.

"Do you want to borrow something to sleep in?" Obi-Wan asked. "We're going to have to get you some more clothes."

"Nah, this is fine," Anakin answered as he carefully got to his knees next to his pallet and pulled back the blankets to get into bed. He settled on his back and shifted around to get comfortable.

"Okay?" Obi-Wan asked.

Anakin made an uncertain sound. "Is there another blanket? I'm cold."

"Uh, hold on—" Obi-Wan got up and started searching through the storage cabinets. His extra blanket was already a part of Anakin's bedding, but there had to be something else he could give him—

"Here," Obi-Wan said, taking down the dark brown robe from the back of his closet. It wasn't like he wore it these days anyway, might as well get some use out of it. He draped it over Anakin as a blanket.

Anakin pulled one hand free and plucked at the fabric. "You still have your robes?" he asked in surprise.

"Of course," Obi-Wan said with a shrug. "I told you—they give you back all of your original belongings after you complete the program and swear the Resol'nare."

Anakin pulled his blankets tighter around him and sniffed thoughtfully at the edge of the robe.

"Does it smell?" Obi-Wan asked. "I can't remember the last time it was cleaned. The ends are a bit scorched as well."

"No," Anakin said. "I mean—yes, but not in a bad way. It smells like the Temple."

"Oh," Obi-Wan said, surprised, but knowing exactly what Anakin meant. The faint scent of uneti blossoms hung throughout the halls of the Temple, impressed into the walls by incense burned for hundreds of years in meditation and ritual. It was a faint but warm aroma that you forgot was there until you returned from a long mission, when it hit you with your first steps into those familiar halls. Obi-Wan had associated that scent with the Force itself as a youngling, assuming that it emanated from the soothing presence that cocooned the entire Temple in peace.

Obi-Wan turned off the lights and got into bed. "Sleep well," he said.

"Goodnight," Anakin responded.

Chapter Text

Anakin was still asleep when Obi-Wan woke at his usual hour. He tried to be quiet as he moved about the room getting dressed. Between the routine sleep deprivation at the Indoctrination Center and his recent injury, Anakin needed the sleep.

Obi-Wan went to the control panel on the wall and lowered the opacity on the room's single window, letting in just enough light to see by. He knelt and let his breathing even out as he gradually extended his senses into the Force.

Obi-Wan shifted his attention to the weight of his own body, feeling the stiffness of his shoulders and the ache where he had been tightening his jaw. It was a relief to sit still and let the Force flow through him, to let its currents loosen the tension he had been holding and carry it away. Obi-Wan inhaled and then let go with a practiced exhale. His muscles unclenched and his shoulders dropped as he relaxed in communion with the Force.

Anakin appeared like a bright beacon to Obi-Wan's senses. His presence was so strong, even in sleep. Obi-Wan realized how much it had troubled him this past year, not having his padawan nearby—no, his son. He needed to keep that straight in his head. It would be easy to fall back into old patterns now that they had some semblance of privacy and no longer felt the constant scrutiny of the Indoctrinators or the healers at the medcenter.

Anakin's awareness was stirring. Attuned as he was to every slight change in the Force, Obi-Wan felt him wake up, his mind becoming more active and aware, and heard him move as he turned over on his side.

There was a rustle of cloth and soft movement, a few thumps followed by footsteps as Anakin got up. An increase in pressure in the Force indicated when he took notice of Obi-Wan. His presence grew brighter for a moment, a little flare of greeting suggesting I'm awake and good morning.

Anakin's attention continued to press against Obi-Wan even as he stepped away into the fresher. He had a simmering-pot feeling of holding in a question. He was being polite, not wanting to interrupt, but clearly full of curiosity about something.

Obi-Wan used the sounds of Anakin moving around the room as part of his meditation, letting the noise filter through his senses and become part of the tapestry of the Living Force he was immersed inside. It reminded Obi-Wan of the mornings when Anakin was younger and new to meditation. He would join Obi-Wan for his morning practice, but didn't have the stamina for more than a few minutes of sitting still. Rather than disrupt his own routine, Obi-Wan had told Anakin that he could do something quiet while he waited for him to finish. As a result, Obi-Wan had become accustomed to meditating with the soft sounds of Anakin practicing his forms or tinkering with a droid next to him.

Anakin crossed to the kitchenette where he began opening drawers and cabinets looking for something. After searching around for a bit, there was a metallic click of a container opening and the scent of fresh tea filled the room. Another click and the sound of rushing water indicated Anakin had found the hot water tap.

A few minutes later, Anakin padded out of the kitchen and sat down next to Obi-Wan on the floor with a thump. Obi-Wan took a deep breath and raised his arms into a slow stretch before rearranging his legs into a more casual sitting position, signaling that he was finished.

He heard Anakin sniff beside him and take a sip of his tea. "You still meditate?"

"Yes?" Obi-Wan said. The question seemed like a joke—an attempt to rile him up maybe—but Anakin's tone was serious and his face open and vulnerable when Obi-Wan opened his eyes and turned to face him. "It's not an easy habit to break, I've only been doing it my entire life."

Anakin looked away. His hand came up to his right shoulder and made an abortive grasping motion before dropping back down.

"You're still allowed to meditate, Anakin," Obi-Wan said, breaking the silence when Anakin didn't say anything more.

Anakin looked back at him, all vulnerability wiped away and replaced with disbelief. "How can you—" he laughed bitterly. "Then why would I get knocked upside the head any time I tried?" His voice grew louder, anger animating him. "Once they took my mattress away during the night cycle because I was sitting on it instead of lying down to sleep."

Obi-Wan closed his eyes for a long moment and let out a sigh. "That's not—they shouldn't have done that. There's nothing in the Resol'nare that says a Mandalorian can't meditate. Or use the Force, for that matter."

Anakin snorted. "I guess someone should tell them that."

Obi-Wan sighed again. "I will. Or I'll try to. The Indoctrinators can be… overly concerned about rooting out any foreign practices they don't understand, but that's their own prejudices. There's no requirement that a Mandalorian forsake all of his old customs. If anything, the mix of cultures and different points of view in the Mando'ade is our greatest strength."

"Different points of view?" Anakin said, deeply skeptical.

"Within certain limits," Obi-Wan conceded. "So, yes, I still meditate, but… you're right that if others here saw me doing it they might find it suspicious."

Anakin gave him a long look. "So you meditate in secret and use the Force in subtle ways that aren't obvious."

"Anakin…" Obi-Wan paused, taking a breath before continuing. "I know it's not in your nature, but I need you to at least try to behave. This arrangement is very tenuous."

"I've never been good at behaving," Anakin said with a slight smile.

"I am not joking." Obi-Wan met Anakin's amused expression with a glare. "This building is full of former recruits. We still have a guard detail. Everyone is going to be keeping a close eye on you. If you act out, you'll be back in the Indoctrination Center before you can blink."

Anakin set his tea down and shrugged. "Why are you so worried if Indoctrination isn't that bad?" His voice got higher and he took on a singsong, mocking tone. "After all, 'different points of view are our greatest strength.'"

"You realize the program you were in was one of the least coercive, right?" Obi-Wan said, deadly serious, not rising to the bait of Anakin's mockery. "There are prison cells beneath that building for recruits who don't take to the kinder, classroom-based methods."

Anakin took a deep breath and dropped his false humor, face becoming tired. "Yes, I realize that."

"And you understand what failing out of the program would mean?"

Anakin hesitated, mouth opening and closing before he finally said, "Yes."

"Then you understand why I don't want you sent back there."

Anakin nodded and looked down at his tea.

"You might get some leeway because of what happened and since I'm supposed to be tutoring you, but if you do or say anything in public that is too Jedi or anti-Mandalorian, they will not let that slide."

"Okay, okay, I get it, I wasn't really—"

"Will you behave?" Obi-Wan asked, determined to extract a promise from him.

Anakin's mouth twisted with resentment. "Yes, Master."

"Buir," Obi-Wan said in exasperation.

Anakin rolled his eyes, but repeated, "Yes, Buir."

Obi-Wan was about to say something more, but was interrupted by a mechanical bell going off inside the room. "What?" It took Obi-Wan a moment to place the noise as the door chime—someone was at the door? He got up as it went off again. "Who at this hour—"

Reg Syko was on the other side of the door when Obi-Wan palmed it open. He had a tray in hand with three cups of steaming caf and several plates from the breakfast selections of the cafeteria.

"Good morning," Reg said cheerfully.

Obi-Wan raised a hand and tried to step outside so the door would close behind him, but Reg was crowded so closely that there wasn't room. "Yes, morning," Obi-Wan said, brusk and dismissive. "What do you want, Reg?"

Reg raised the tray in his hand. "Berav said you hadn't been downstairs yet so I thought I'd bring you some caf on the way back with my cup."

Obi-Wan frowned. It was a transparent ploy. Reg had never brought him caf before. He stared hard at the tray, and the three cups there. "How did you know to bring an extra cup?"

Reg's smile grew. "Tolum mentioned they heard you coming in last night with a visitor."

Obi-Wan suppressed a sigh. The information gathering network in the building was more effective than the Mandalorian Security Agency and the Republic Ministry of Intelligence combined.

Obi-Wan felt Anakin's interest piquing behind him and heard a rustle of movement. "Don't get up!" Obi-Wan called over his shoulder in Basic. He looked back at Reg, who was tilting his head, trying to see past Obi-Wan.

Obi-Wan cleared his throat and made an effort to put on his usual, polite facade. "Thank you, Reg," he said, not quite managing to quench the irritation from his tone. "That was very… thoughtful of you, but we just woke up and now is not a—"

"Your friend can come in," Anakin said, coming up behind Obi-Wan. "It's fine."

Obi-Wan sighed audibly, unable to suppress his annoyance. "Now's not a good time," he insisted, ignoring Anakin and focusing on Reg.

"Is that breakfast?" Anakin asked, and Obi-Wan saw him out of the corner of his eye as he leaned in over his shoulder. "Lor'vram," Anakin amended, belatedly making an effort to ask in Mando'a. "Tion'lor'vram?"

"It is breakfast," Reg said, responding in Basic. He leaned in, speaking to Anakin as if Obi-Wan wasn't standing there stubbornly trying to act as a barrier. "Gi'hetikleyc—spicy fried fish! The cafeteria's specialty. And caf."

"Caf?" Anakin's voice rose in excitement. "Let him in."

"Thank you—" Reg attempted to elbow past Obi-Wan while at the same moment Obi-Wan said, "Reg was just leaving—"

There was a scuffle as Obi-Wan attempted to take the tray from him and Reg tried to get past him into the doorway. As they struggled with both ends of the tray, the caf cups tipped dangerously and they both fumbled to prevent a spill. Somehow, Obi-Wan ended up holding one caf cup and a bowl of dipping sauce while Reg shimmied past him into the room. He was slipplier than a Rishi eel.

Obi-Wan sighed and followed Reg inside, closing the door behind him. They didn't need any other "helpful" interlopers overhearing their conversation and coming over to be friendly.

Anakin had already taken a seat on one of the floor cushions next to the table. He still had Obi-Wan's cloak wrapped around himself like a blanket, his body half-disappearing beneath the heavy fabric. His hair was a mess, one side flat where he'd slept on it and the other side standing up in curly wisps. Reg offered him a cup of caf from the tray and Anakin took it with a sigh of appreciation. "Do you bring my—Obi-Wan breakfast often?" he asked, giving Obi-Wan a sideways look.

"No," Obi-Wan said flatly. He set the containers he was holding on the table next to Anakin, shooting him a glare of annoyance. Anakin smiled pleasantly in response and took a careful sip of caf.

"I've never actually been in Obi-Wan's flat before," Reg said and let out a nervous laugh. He looked around the room, holding the tray in front of him like it was a shield. He seemed flummoxed, as if he hadn't thought his ruse with breakfast would actually work and get him inside. "It's very… uh, clean."

"Thank you." Obi-Wan opened the cabinet by the door and pulled out a third seat cushion for Reg. He threw it down next to the table with slightly more force than necessary. Reg evidently wasn't too nervous to make himself comfortable, and he set down the tray and sat on the cushion cross-legged.

Obi-Wan took a seat on the last cushion and picked up a plate of pastries he liked. He took one and then held the plate out to Anakin to take one as well. Anakin took a bite, nodded appreciatively, and reached across for the fish. He took one of the fritters and then reached for the dipping sauce that went with it.

"It's already pretty spicy without the sauce," Reg warned.

Anakin tasted it, shrugged, and took three more spoonfuls for his plate.

"So you're Anakin," Reg said with a bright smile, no doubt thinking of all the mileage he was going to get out of this encounter when he went back down to gossip in the cafeteria. "Obi-Wan's kid?"

"Yus," Anakin said, his mouth full of food. "You live here?"

"I do, I'm your neighbor at the end of the hall," Reg said, pointing in the direction of his room. "Your father and I were classmates."

"No kidding," Anakin said, raising his eyebrows and looking at Obi-Wan. He seemed to find this whole situation amusing and was relishing the opportunity to make Obi-Wan uncomfortable. "Where are you from originally?"

Obi-Wan cleared his throat and gave him a look.

"What?" Anakin said, looking at Obi-Wan and then at Reg. "Was that rude?"

"Some people don't like to be asked, but I don't mind," Reg said. "I'm from Pethar. We're a new admission to the empire."

"Oh," Anakin said. "So you wanted to become a Mandalorian then?"

Reg had a tendency to smile in a way that didn't reach his eyes, but his current expression seemed even more forced than normal. "I had a number of options once it became clear that Pethar would be absorbed into Mandalore. At the time, the organization to which I owed allegiance was, shall we say, winding down, and I was offered the opportunity for recruitment and took it."

Anakin considered that as he sipped his caf. "I didn't realize it was something you got to volunteer for."

"Everything's a choice," Reg said, smiling again. "One way or another."

Anakin's face shifted, becoming shuttered like maybe he disagreed. Obi-Wan cleared his throat, trying to dispel the awkward energy. "Has anything interesting happened while I was gone?" he asked, moving the conversation on to Reg's favorite topic—gossip.

Reg's eyes lit up. "You won't believe who put in for new housing together."

"Who?" Obi-Wan prompted.

"Lera and Soont—" Reg turned to Anakin, explaining, "Lera lives directly below you, two floors down, and Soont is on the ground floor."

Obi-Wan tilted his head. "Huh, I didn't realize they were together."

"No one did!" Reg said. "It was a total surprise. Tyon heard it from Kandra who heard from Na'lestaa that they've been sneaking off to train together at the proving ground."

"Huh, I always thought Lera was into Brix."

"So did everyone!" Reg said, raising his hands and gesturing enthusiastically. "They used to do everything together, they even shared a tent on our field exercise."

"That's right," Obi-Wan said. "They were thick as thieves when we graduated."

"They must have split up, I haven't seen Brix in the building in ages." Reg stifled a laugh. "Remember when he woke everyone up because he thought there was a netrayl in the camp?"

Obi-Wan laughed louder than he probably should at the memory. "Yes, 'it's a ky'hutuun, you idiot!'"

Reg laughed with him, then motioned at Anakin, who was looking between them. "A ky'hutuun is this little scavenger animal," Reg explained. "Very clever. Whatever food stores you have camping, they'll get into them."

"When were you camping?" Anakin asked.

"Field exercise," Obi-Wan explained. "It was with our whole class and the Indoctrinators made a big deal about what to do in case we saw a netrayl to defend ourselves—they're large predators that are known to prey on sentients—"

"It was just to scare us," Reg said with a shake of his head. "There aren't any netrayl that close to Sundari, they're out in the wilds."

"But so when Brix heard something moving around our campsite at night, he was convinced that it was a netrayl--"

"And you're supposed to make a lot of noise to scare them off—"

"—so he jumped up yelling in his tent and woke every single one of us up in a panic."

Reg snorted. "Serves the Indoctrinators right for trying to spook us all."

"The Indoctrinators took you out on a camping trip?" Anakin asked in disbelief.

Reg laughed darkly. "Part of the curriculum toward the end. It's not actually that far from the city, but you can't see the dome because it's on the other side of the hills, so it feels more secluded than it is."

"They really took you out of the Center?" Anakin said in surprise.

Obi-Wan nodded. "Yes, it's one of the last units."

"A reward after you pass the exams," Reg explained.

"They didn't say anything about a 'field trip' to my class," Anakin said.

"They would have told you about it eventually," Obi-Wan said. "To motivate you toward the end."

Reg laughed again, chuckling as if over a dark joke. "It's the final test," he said. "They take you out there to see if any of the remaining recruits are stupid enough to make an escape attempt."

Anakin raised his eyebrows while Obi-Wan cleared his throat and gave Reg a look.

"Don't give him ideas," Obi-Wan said. To Anakin he added, "He doesn't know that, he's just assuming."

Reg ignored Obi-Wan's chiding, speaking to Anakin, "We didn't have any runners in our group, but it happens. It's definitely deliberate."

"And what happens if you run?" Anakin asked.

Obi-Wan couldn't suppress a grimace in response, but Reg only laughed. "Well, you don't get a passing grade, that's for sure."

"Did you try these?" Obi-Wan asked, picking up the plate with the sliced vegetables covered in sauce and holding it out to Anakin. "Try it, it's like that sour Hutt dish you like."

"Tonchoo," Anakin said, taking a piece with his fingers and popping it into his mouth. "Hm, it's good, is it pickled?"

"Fermented," Reg said.

Obi-Wan managed to keep the rest of their conversation on safer topics, such as Reg giving Anakin advice on the best restaurants in the neighborhood and sharing even more gossip about their neighbors.

Chapter Text

Reg, to his credit, didn't overstay his very tenuous welcome. After finishing his caf—and also finishing gossiping with Anakin about nearly every resident in the building—he stood and announced that he had better be going. Reg had important duties at the Sundari defense post, where he was stationed. Obi-Wan had sometimes wondered if his posting might be a cover for his actual role in the Intelligence Bureau, a thought that was inspired more by Obi-Wan's distaste for Reg than it was by any actual evidence of him holding a classified position.

"I cannot believe you let him in," Obi-Wan said to Anakin as soon as the door closed behind Reg. "He's going to try that again now that it worked."

"I hope he does," Anakin said with a laugh. "He's a useful source, you should be cultivating him as an asset!"

"He's not a source, he's a leak," Obi-Wan said, getting irritated even though he knew Anakin was riling him up on purpose. If Reg was in Intelligence, he had probably been assigned to snoop on Anakin and Obi-Wan. "Now Reg is going to go tell everyone in the building about meeting you!"

Anakin laughed again, unrepentant. "At least he brought us something in exchange," he said, holding up the last pastry and taking a bite.

Obi-Wan sighed in annoyance. In search of a task, he knelt down next to his bedding and began folding up the blankets to put away for the day and clear space on the floor.

"These are good," Anakin said, mouth full of pastry. "Do they make them here?"

"No, they bring them in from—I don't know, some bakery somewhere."

"Hm…" Anakin, still chewing, got up and knelt down next to Obi-Wan and attempted to help him with tidying up. He started gathering the pillows and stacking them in a pile.

"So…" Anakin trailed off without completing his sentence, watching as Obi-Wan set one blanket aside and started folding the next. Obi-Wan let the silence stretch, focusing on his task.

Anakin cleared his throat. "What do you… do here anyway?"

"In my room?" Obi-Wan said, getting up. "Sleep mostly."

"No, like, in general." Anakin rolled his eyes. He picked up the stack of blankets and passed them to Obi-Wan, who put them away in one of the storage cabinets built into the wall. "Do you have a… job? What are your duties?"

"Oh, well…" Obi-Wan sighed. He knelt back down to fold his mattress in half as he spoke. Beneath the mattress was a thin sleeping mat that served as a sort of base layer and protected the mattress from the floor. It also served a double purpose as an exercise mat, and Obi-Wan left it out for that reason.

"Normally I would be on my way to the government district," he explained to Anakin. "I have an advisory role reviewing the activity and intelligence reports from the Sith border." He piled the mattresses one on top of the other and picked them up. Anakin tried to help, but Obi-Wan brushed him off, getting them into the cabinet himself. "You're not to do any heavy lifting."

"It's not heavy—"

"I'm on a sort of task force," Obi-Wan continued, "which has been taking up most of my time lately. We prepare recommendations and briefings for the Mand'alor. But at the moment, I don't have to do any of that because I'm on leave…" Obi-Wan smiled as he closed the cabinet. "So you get to have all of my attention for the near future."

Anakin gave him a dubious look. "Meaning…?"

"Oh, the Indoctrinators were kind enough to supply me with a complete copy of your remaining coursework," Obi-Wan said, his smile widening as he went to get his datascreen. "I'm going to personally tutor you through the remaining modules."

Anakin groaned. "Ugh, can't we go somewhere? I'm so sick of being trapped inside, under lock and key."

"There's not really anywhere to go that isn't 'indoors' in Sundari," Obi-Wan said with an apologetic shrug. "It's like the lower levels of Coruscant in that way."

"You know what I mean," Anakin said. "Can't we go out somewhere? I need more clothes, where do you get them? Are there stores? Can you buy things? Do you get—money?"

"Of course I can buy things, I receive a stipend—although, uh… I'm not sure if your guard detail will allow us to go anywhere…" Obi-Wan had been planning on placing a requisition order for clothing rather than going to the shopping district, but maybe this was a good opportunity to test their limits. "I'll ask about it."

Anakin sighed. "Great."

"Don't you have some physical therapy exercises you're supposed to be doing?" Obi-Wan asked. Exercise was what Anakin needed. He was always full of restless energy after a period of convalescence.

"Yeaaaah," Anakin admitted, drawing the word out in annoyance.

"Why don't you do those then," Obi-Wan said. He went to stand on top of one of the two sleeping mats, which he had left out. "I usually do some stretches in the morning."

Anakin shrugged, and looked around at the room. "In here? Is there nowhere for exercise or sparring?"

"Uh… no, there is," Obi-Wan said. "There's a small exercise room downstairs, I can show you later, but it can be crowded in the mornings…"

"Maybe later," Anakin said. "What do you usually do? What's your routine?"

"Just the basics." Obi-Wan sat down on the other mat with his feet in front of him and started stretching to demonstrate, bending forward at his waist and reaching for his toes.

Anakin copied him, sitting down on the other mat and reaching for his toes. He didn't get very far into the stretch before winching and taking a breath.

"Don't push yourself—"

"I know," Anakin said.

Obi-Wan continued through his movements, slowing them down and not going as deep into his stretches as he normally would. Anakin would know how to modify his own movements for his current limitations, but the two of them could be competitive and Obi-Wan didn't want to trigger him to push himself past his limits.

Anakin made a face when Obi-Wan stood up, but he got to his feet as well, moving slowly and wincing. Obi-Wan slowed his own movements, giving Anakin time to catch up to him as he followed Obi-Wan's lead.

Obi-Wan shifted his feet and raised his arms in front of him until he was standing in the opening position of the first lightsaber form. He waited for Anakin to match him and then began moving through the familiar, choreographed motions. Anakin matched him and they began to move in sync through the positions—one, two, three, four, five, six—

Obi-Wan continued through his morning routine while Anakin followed—taking the movements slowly at first for a warmup, then at full speed repeatedly for several sets, and then slowly again to cool down.

When he was done, Obi-Wan dropped into a recovery position, his arms relaxed at his sides, and waited for his breath to slow before turning to Anakin. He brought his hands together in front of him, his right hand in a fist and his left grasping the other, and bowed to Anakin, who bowed in return, a beat behind him.

It was a reflexive gesture, Obi-Wan's body remembering years of daily practice concluded with the ritualized bow between padawan and master. He fought back a wave of self-consciousness, but tried not to show it as he stepped off the mat. It was just an unconscious gesture, meaningless.

"Do you usually do lightsaber forms in the morning?" Anakin asked.

"Sometimes," Obi-Wan said, rolling his shoulders back and stretching. "When I need to get my blood moving."

"Hmm, I see," Anakin said, his tone oddly revelatory. Obi-Wan looked up and saw that Anakin had his eyebrows raised and was looking at him with more attention than the conversation warranted. It was as if he had figured something out about Obi-Wan, or thought he had figured something out, which was quite annoying.

"Do you want to go for a walk downstairs?" Obi-Wan asked. "You didn't get to see the rest of the building when we arrived. I can show you where the exercise room is and the cafeteria."

"Sure." There was a pause as Anakin got up and looked for his boots that gave Obi-Wan some hope that he had successfully changed the subject. However, once Anakin had found his boots and was tugging them on, he said, "I'm surprised you would still do the forms, I guess. Not much point if you no longer have a lightsaber, is there?"

Obi-Wan opened the cabinet by the door and took out a heavy knit overtunic he often wore in the mornings for warmth. He thought about Anakin's question as he pulled it over his head. "They're useful for more than just lightsaber combat— it's a familiar exercise I can do by rote, and the basic styles are useful for fighting with any bladed weapon."

Anakin scoffed. "Do Mandalorians fight hand-to-hand with swords much?"

"Recreationally, yes," Obi-Wan said. "Competitive ge'kad has many aficionados. You would like it. The rules can be a bit restrictive, and the style is not as developed as lightsaber combat, but it has its own charms—"

"Obi-Wan," Anakin said flatly, stopping him.

"What?"

Anakin opened his mouth, hesitated and then shook his head and sighed. "Never mind."

Chapter Text

They spent most of the morning on Mando'a lessons, much to Anakin's frustration. He had a vocabulary of a few hundred words by now and was reasonably able to string together a sentence with the right amount of cajoling.

"Ya—yan… tov?" Anakin said, slowly, painfully sounding out the unfamiliar letters on the datascreen.

"Bantov," Obi-Wan corrected. "That's a Besh, not a Vev."

"Ugh, I hate this script. It's so hard to read."

"It's only because you're not used to it, try making the letters bigger."

Anakin frowned down at the datascreen as he opened the menu and fiddled with text settings. "How do you say 'alphabet' in Mando'a?"

"Mandor," Obi-Wan said. "Or you can say alphabet, it's not the preferred term but it is a loan word."

Anakin snorted. "Right. Ibi-tuur mhi hibira mando alphabet bal or'parguu bic." Today I learn the Mandalorian alphabet and I hate it.

Obi-Wan smiled. "Tion'jor?" Why

"Bic cuy—" It's— He scowled, clearly unable to find the word he wanted before he finally spit out, "Cuyi jari'eyc." It's ugly.

Obi-Wan laughed loudly at that. "The letter differences are a bit… subtle. The older scripts for writing by hand are simpler, but no one uses them anymore."

Anakin scowled and repeated, "I hate it."

"You won't have to use it much," Obi-Wan promised. "Most communication isn't in writing anyway. You only really need to be able to read the occasional sign or a news headline."

They kept practicing for a few hours and Anakin made some unwilling improvement. When they reached a point where Anakin was starting to get cranky, most likely from hunger, Obi-Wan announced that that was enough for today and it was time for the midday meal.

Obi-Wan braced himself as they entered the cafeteria. It was before the second duty shift, the busiest time of the day, and the tables were already full with the usual crowd.

Obi-Wan could see heads turning out of the corner of his eye as they walked through the room. Anakin, picking up on the outside scrutiny, made eye contact with him and Obi-Wan pressed his lips together in a smile. He did his best to keep his expression calm and not show his discomfort. He kept his emotions contained in the Force as well, not wanting Anakin to sense his nervous tension.

He directed Anakin to the back of the room where a long, rectangular opening in the wall communicated with the kitchens on the other side. They joined the queue waiting for food.

In front of them in the line, various neighbors chatted and gossiped. Obi-Wan nodded hello to some who noticed him, but otherwise didn't engage in conversation. He glanced behind him and saw that Anakin's forehead was creased in intense concentration.

"Are you eavesdropping?" Obi-Wan asked, his voice low.

"I'm trying to," Anakin said, shooting him a glare. "Shh."

"I'm not criticizing," Obi-Wan said.

"And it's not eavesdropping if I'm learning the language," Anakin protested. "It's—working on my listening comprehension."

"Yes," Obi-Wan agreed. "Good, I'm glad you're practicing."

"Jate tuur, Obi-Wan," a voice said behind him, good day, and Obi-Wan turned to answer the greeting, finding Jhoka Kurs coming up behind him to join the line. Jhoka was Suurjan, with a round, friendly face that would be indistinguishable from a baseline human if it weren't for the lack of external ears.

"Tuur," Obi-Wan responded. He reached back and put his hand on Anakin's shoulder, tugged him forward to stand beside him. "Cuyi ner ad, Anakin." This is my son Anakin.

"Su'cuy," Anakin said, his voice was flat. He kept his eyes to the side, not looking at Jhoka.

"Jate urcir gar," Obi-Wan prompted him. Nice to meet you.

"Jate urcir gar," Anakin echoed, still not meeting Jhoka's eyes, and projecting strongly that he wished to be excluded from this conversation.

Jhoka asked Anakin if he was feeling better and Anakin made a noncommittal noise, keeping his eyes pointed forward, toward the front of the advancing line. The conversation carried on in Mando'a. Jhoka didn't know any Basic, having grown up inside the Empire, far from the Republic's sphere of influence. Obi-Wan carried most of it since Anakin was limiting his input to one-word answers. Obi-Wan thought he was probably feeling uncomfortable speaking outside of the controlled environment of a classroom, but there was only one cure for the embarrassment of learning a new language—stumbling through as many painful conversations as possible.

At the front of the line, they loaded their plates with the usual lunch options—bread, meat cooked in various sauces, stewed vegetables, and the like. Anakin got a small portion of almost everything, which pleased Obi-Wan. He hoped he was appreciating the array of choices compared to the sparse options at the Indoctrination Center.

Jhoka joined them at the end of one of the long, communal tables and inquired about their plans for the first-day-of-spring celebration next week. The day was traditionally considered the start of the new year, although the modern calendar was no longer aligned with it. It was now called, confusingly, the Ruug'la Evaar Simir, or The Old New Year. There were various traditions associated with the plants and flowers of early spring, and there were specific foods to eat and tasks to do to ensure good luck for the rest of the year. There were no seasonal changes under the climate-controlled dome of Sundari, of course, but the astronomical date was still observed as a holiday.

Obi-Wan chatted amiably with Jhoka about the upcoming holiday, making small talk. They made an attempt to include Anakin, but he only nodded, or made noncommittal noises when prompted. He kept his eyes down on his plate, an expression on his face of tight concentration like he was struggling to keep up with the conversation.

"Ru'cuy hibir b'Obi-Wan?" Jhoka asked Anakin, gamely trying to draw him out. You were Obi-Wan's student?

"Elek," Obi-Wan answered for him. "Tekay kaysh ru'cuy she'cu simire—" Yes, since he was nine years—. He broke off when Anakin muttered something and both he and Jhoka leaned in to hear him.

"Elek?" Jhoka prompted.

"Ni cuy—" Anakin hesitated, flushing. "Ni ru'cuy kaysh padawan." I am—I was his padawan.

"Padawan," Jhoka repeats, careful over the unfamiliar word.

"Like—apprentice."

"Borar'hibir," Obi-Wan translated.

"Haa'tayl," Jhoka said encouragingly. I see. "Sa borar koor?"

Anakin's face creased with confusion, and Obi-Wan answered for him, "Nu'cuy koor, a urman'haat'miit." To Anakin he explained, "In Mandalore, apprentices sign a contract to learn a trade from their masters—so they were asking if that's what you meant and I explained it's a religious vow, not a contractual relationship."

"Elek," Anakin said to Jhoka. "Haat'miit. A vow."

"Ahh," Jhoka nodded to show he understood and Anakin smiled for the first time since they had sat down. Obi-Wan felt pleased that he'd experienced a moment of genuine communication.

Before departing, Jhoka suggested that if they went to go to the spring street festival next week, they should meet up there. Obi-Wan agreed, although he doubted that Anakin's guards would let them go to it. A crowded festival would be a nightmare for tracking and a perfect opportunity for Anakin to attempt an escape.

He kept all this to himself, sipping his tea and asking Anakin, "Did you follow all of that?"

Anakin pulled a face. "Some of it. I got the part at the beginning where he said 'good morning.'"

"They," Obi-Wan corrected and laughed. "Keep working on it."

"Hold on," Obi-Wan said as they left the cafeteria, hesitating before the turn toward the lifts. "Let me show you the other common space—there's not much, but there's an exercise area down the hall."

He showed Anakin the room, which has some equipment like weights and training weapons.

"There's a sparring ring?" Anakin asked, examining the markings on the floor and the shield system installed in the ceiling that projected a protective ring around the combatants during a fight.

"Yes." Obi-Wan walked over, looking down at the markings. He wasn't entirely sure what style of fighting the ring was designed for. "I think there might be different clubs that meet down here? I've seen some of them practicing. I'm not sure of when they meet, but I could ask around and find out."

"That's all right," Anakin said. "I was just curious."

When they returned to the lifts, Obi-Wan waited until the door opened and Anakin stepped inside before saying, "I trust you can make it back to home on your own?" He held his hand out so the lift door didn't close and eyed Anakin, leaving and you won't try to escape, unsaid.

Anakin blinked at him from inside the turbolift. "Why? I mean, yes, sure, but where are you going?"

"I thought I'd ask our guard detail about going on an outing."

"Oh! Okay." Anakin nodded eagerly. Obi-Wan dropped his hand, letting the door shut.

Obi-Wan went out the front entrance of the building and paused, scanning the area for their guards. After a moment's searching, he found one watching him from a ledge on the neighboring building, stationed to watch the window of Obi-Wan's apartment. Another was at the intersection, watching foot traffic at both the front and side entrances.

The one on ground-level proved reluctant to make conversation, helmet unmoving as Obi-Wan approached and attempted some polite preliminaries. They didn't seem to have orders regarding interacting with their charges.

Eventually, probably after realizing that Obi-Wan was not going away without an answer, the guard raised a hand in a "one moment" gesture. Obi-Wan waited patiently while he assumed the two guards were conversing, or perhaps they were calling a superior for help.

There was a fizz of static as the guard switched on their external microphone. "Our commander will speak to you."

"Ah, thank you, when can I expect them?"

The helmet tilted, perturbed. "When it's convenient."

Obi-Wan nodded, then asked, "Convenient for me? Or for them?"

The guard's helmet fizzed with a noise that might have been static or might have been a tsk of annoyance. "I don't know. Go back to your residence."

"Very well, thank you for your assistance." Obi-Wan resisted the urge to bow, nodding his thanks instead.

When Obi-Wan returned to the room, Anakin asked him, "So are we allowed to go out or am I a prisoner in here too?"

Obi-Wan suppressed a sigh. "The guards on duty said that their commander would come speak to us."

"Ugh." Anakin flopped onto his back in frustration.

"If you're bored, I can think of something to do." Obi-Wan picked up his datascreen and waved it at Anakin with a smile. "Shall we keep working on irregular verbs?"

"Ugh."

Obi-Wan wasn't expecting a prompt answer from the guards' commander, but an hour later the door chimed with a visitor.

On the other side of the door was a helmeted Mandalorian in a familiar suit of black armor with red accents and a stylized emblem of a shriek-hawk on the right shoulder.

"Hello, Zena," Obi-Wan said.

She reached up to remove her helmet and there was a soft puff of air as it unsealed. "Hello, Obi-Wan," Zena said, giving him a warm smile. "I heard you wanted to go for an outing?"

"Yes, please come in," Obi-Wan said, waving her into the room as if she couldn't enter whenever she pleased. "Anakin is feeling restless."

"He means I'm kriffing bored!" Anakin called out at a higher volume than necessary.

Zena made a soft noise of amused frustration. "Hello, Recruit."

"Hello, Indoctrinator," Anakin said in a lower, more respectful tone. He was seated at the kitchen counter that doubled as a table with two stools, and he twisted around to face her. Obi-Wan had rarely used this space as a table since he always took his meals in the cafeteria, but now it had become Anakin's desk for Mando'a study.

"How are you doing?" Zena asked Anakin. "Healing up well I assume?"

"Good," Obi-Wan answered for him. "He's much improved."

"That's good." Zena paused and looked away, her eyes unfocused for a moment. "You, uh, certainly gave us a scare."

"I didn't do it on purpose," Anakin grumbled.

Obi-Wan winced and Zena huffed in amusement, giving Obi-Wan a look as if to say he's your kid. Zena cleared her throat, not turning to look at Anakin as she asked sternly, "Is that how I am to be addressed, recruit?"

Anakin's lips thinned, but he replied after a beat. "Sorry—Indoctrinator. Please can we go out? Ma'am? Please?"

"I thought we could go shopping," Obi-Wan explained. "Buy him some presentable clothing." He waved his hand at Anakin, who was currently dressed in a Obi-Wan's castoffs, a tunic and a pair of sleep pants that ended several inches above the ankles on Anakin.

"I think we can arrange that," Zena said. "Not tomorrow, but the next day most likely."

"That would be great," Obi-Wan said.

"And…" Anakin hesitated, glancing at Obi-Wan. "The festival?"

"Right, uh, a neighbor asked if we would be attending the Ruug'la Evaar Simir street festival next week. I realize that's probably a tall order, but…"

Zena looked thoughtful, and didn't dismiss it immediately like Obi-Wan expected. "Let me follow up with you on that, we might be able to make it happen."

"If it's not too much trouble," Obi-Wan said, while behind him, Anakin put his hands together in an exaggerated please gesture.

"I'll see what I can do," Zena said.

Chapter Text

Two days later, Zena arrived at Obi-Wan's door first thing in the morning and informed him that their shopping trip had been approved. She was there to escort them. Time of departure: now.

Anakin rushed to get ready. He seemed agitated and on edge by Zena's sudden appearance, but Obi-Wan interpreted that as impatience to finally get out of the building rather than nerves about a planned escape attempt.

For her part, Zena seemed to be in a good mood. She chatted with Obi-Wan and they shared a cup of tea in the kitchenette while they waited for Anakin. Obi-Wan made sure to point out how far Anakin had advanced in his Indoctrination coursework and how much his Mando'a had improved under his tutelage. He may have exaggerated Anakin's level of progress slightly, but not to an egregious extent.

Anakin emerged from the fresher, a towel in hand rubbing at his still-damp hair. Zena turned to him and asked, "Ready to go, recruit?"

"Of course!" Anakin said. "Where are we going? Is it nearby?"

"First, put this on," Zena said and unclipped something from her waist and held it out to Anakin. It was a metal cuff with a blinking blue light on one side.

"Really?" Anakin said and made a face. "A tracker?"

"It wasn't a request, recruit," Zena said, her expression growing stern. "Unless you've decided you don't want to go out after all?"

"No, no, fine, whatever," Anakin said. He tossed the towel down on the counter and took it from her. He turned it over in his hands, examining the mechanism.

"On your ankle," Zena said.

Anakin knelt down and pushed up his pant leg, slipping the cuff on and twisting it around. "Like this…?"

Zena hit a button on her vambrace and the cuff beeped and there was a click as the locking mechanism engaged. The light changed from blinking blue to solid green. "There. Is it too tight?"

"No, Indoctrinator," Anakin said, his tone sulky as he got to his feet.

"Good," she said. "Let's go then. There's a speeder waiting for us downstairs."

Anakin was sullen on the short speeder trip, ignoring Zena and Obi-Wan's polite conversation and staring out at the passing streets. Obi-Wan felt encouraged by the fact that Zena hadn't insisted on blindfolding Anakin for the journey. It indicated that Anakin was past the point where he wasn't allowed any knowledge of the city's layout, which was good. Although, possibly, that was just a practical acceptance that there was no point in attempting to restrict his knowledge now that he was out of the Indoctrination Center. There were too many easy ways for Anakin to get access to a map of Sundari or ask others about its road network now that he wasn't in a controlled-information environment. Better to assume he had some knowledge of the city and plan for that rather than trying to close the stable door after the fathiers had bolted.

Zena brought them to the nearest shopping district, which was inside an enclosed atrium with a small garden. It was a pleasant space with benches and paths that weaved around potted trees and fake rock formations. There was even a little artificial waterfall on one end of the atrium that produced a little stream that meandered through the garden area. There were several small, arch stone bridges crossing it that recreated the folk architecture style of Mandalore's bucolic, rural past.

Zena had brought them in the early morning, before it got too crowded, although there were still a few other Mandalorians around, sitting in the garden area or wandering the shops.

They window-shopped for a bit until Zena suggested they go into a clothing store that one of her sons liked. Obi-Wan wasn't very aware of Mandalorian fashion trends, but it had the sort of clothing he associated with the adolescents who hung out in plazas all day and practiced hoverboarding. The music inside the shop was a bit too loud for Obi-Wan's taste, and there were holoimages on display of youthful men and women cavorting in the store's style of unisex, neutral clothing.

Anakin walked through the racks, stopping every now and then to look at an article of clothing while Zena and Obi-Wan trailed after him. He was affecting an air of boredom, as if it was terribly dull to be out shopping with his father and an Indoctrinator. It was a facade though, as Obi-Wan could tell that Anakin was keeping an attentive eye on the guard detail trailing them. He always kept his body turned so he could see their escort in his peripheral vision. The other guards were in plain clothes today—or "plain clothes" for Mandalorians, which meant inconspicuous armor—and there were at least three of them following them at all times. They were good; attentive and working seamlessly together as a team. It would be very difficult to get past them. Obi-Wan wasn't especially worried about Anakin making an escape attempt today, and the tracker Zena had on his ankle made him feel even more secure. Not that he would ever let Anakin know that.

"Can I try these on?" Anakin asked. He had been selecting items as he went and had a decent pile of shirts and pants in various shades of black, gray, and brown in his arms by now.

Zena nodded. To Obi-Wan, she said, "Go with him."

Anakin rolled his eyes a little at that, but didn't complain as Obi-Wan followed him to the small cubicles at the back of the store where customers could try on clothes. Obi-Wan sat on a bench outside and waited while Anakin went into one to change.

As Anakin tried on the clothes, he tossed the ones he didn't want over the top of the cubicle divider. A store employee came over to assist, collecting the unwanted items and asking if she could fetch anything else.

"Yes," Obi-Wan said, answering for Anakin. "Something nice, a more formal collared shirt if you have it, please."

"Of course," the woman said and went off to select some options for him.

"Why would I need something 'nice'?" Anakin called out, his voice muffled like he was pulling a piece of clothing on or off. "It's not like I can go anywhere. We're not going to have a night at the opera or something."

"You'll need it eventually," Obi-Wan said. "Pick out at least one formal outfit, please."

The sound was muffled, but he thought he heard Anakin sigh in response.

The employee came back with five different potential shirts—all of them neutral colors, but different levels of formality based on the fabrics and the style of the collar. She also brought a few jackets that were more on the practical side but could be worn for semi-formal events.

Unlike the Republic, Mandalorians didn't wear robes for ceremonial occasions. Their style of formal dress was more streamlined, with fewer layers and less bulk. It was as if they wanted to be able to put armor on top of even formal wear, even if that was an unlikely scenario. The usual outfit consisted of tailored pants and short jackets with military-style details over a collared shirt that buttoned at the neck.

When he was finished trying everything on, Anakin came out of the cubicle with an armful of shirts and pants. Most of what he had selected was long and oversized: loose tunics, wide-leg pants, a long jacket-style sweater made out of heavy nerfwool, as well as a few pairs of leggings. It was as close to Republic-style clothing as one could get while shopping inside Mandalore.

Anakin also begrudgingly agreed to get a gray shirt with a button collar and a black jacket that went well together. It was the sort of outfit Obi-Wan might wear while going to a meeting in the government district, assuming he wasn't wearing armor.

Zena must have been feeling indulgent, as she didn't hustle them out but instead let them wander through the atrium and visit a few more clothing stores. It felt almost like a leisurely shopping trip with friends, and Obi-Wan was glad for the normalcy of it all for Anakin's sake.

When Anakin was finished shopping, Zena suggested they get a caf drink from a kiosk by the garden area. They sat on one of the benches there and drank overly sweetened drinks while enjoying the sounds of the fake waterfall. It felt very pleasant to sit and watch the other shoppers moving around the atrium.

"It's good we were able to go shopping this week," Obi-Wan said. "New clothes for the new year."

Zena smiled at that and laughed a little. "That's right, it's good luck."

Anakin leaned around Obi-Wan toward Zena and said cautiously, "Maybe I can wear them when we go to the street festival?"

"Hm, perhaps," Zena said, raising an eyebrow at him to show she saw what he was doing. Her expression gave nothing away. "New clothes are important, but you also have to clean your house before the new year, and I haven't gotten around to that yet…"

"And eat mollusks," Obi-Wan said. "It's for prosperity," he explained to Anakin. "Because the shape of the shells looks like an old coin from ancient Mandalore."

"And drink tracy'sale'pirun," Zena said with a smile, naming a sweet fruit juice.

"Mm, yes, I really enjoy when they sell it with those little skewers of fruit in it—the berries, what are those called?"

"Meshurok berries," Zena said. "They're also good luck. Sweet things for a sweet year."

"It sounds nice," Anakin said, not quite grumbling as he added, "I hope I get to go and see for myself..."

"It is nice," Zena agreed. "But there will be many opportunities to attend in the future even if you can't go this year."

"What about camping," Anakin said, blurting it out suddenly. "When do I get to go camping?"

"Camping?" Zena repeated incredulously.

Obi-Wan closed his eyes for a moment and resisted the urge to sigh. "He means the post-exam field exercise. We were talking about it with a former classmate of mine the other day."

"Oh," Zena said. "Uh, well, you're out of sync with your class now. You won't be ready when they leave for it… and then the next class won't be going for months. Sorry, I don't think it will be possible."

"Can't Obi-Wan take me?" Anakin asked. "We could just go camping on our own. Do our own field exercise."

Zena exchanged a doubtful look with Obi-Wan. "I'm sorry, Anakin, it would be too much work to arrange that for only one recruit."

"That's not fair," Anakin whined. "So I have to miss out on it because I got stabbed? I'm being punished for something that wasn't my fault!"

"You're not being punished," Zena answered in irritation. "It's just how things worked out."

"It's not fair," Anakin repeated.

"You should know by now that life isn't fair," Zena snapped.

Anakin sniffed at that and then tilted his head back to take a final sip of his drink. He stood up. "I'm done."

Zena raised her eyebrows at him and seemed to be on the edge of saying something, but then she shrugged and stood up. "All right then. I have duties to get back to anyway. Let's go."

When they arrived home, Zena removed the tracker from Anakin's ankle. As soon as it was off, he went straight into the fresher carrying his pile of new clothing. Obi-Wan sighed a little and gave Zena an apologetic look and a shrug.

She just laughed and shook her head. "Listen, about the spring festival… I've been thinking and, while it's complicated to arrange… it is a good opportunity for Anakin to experience Mandalorian culture, and I think it would be worth the risks. If I go as your escort like today, then I think I can get Fett to approve it—"

"Really?" Obi-Wan blurted out, unable to stop himself.

"I'll make the arrangements—if," Zena continued, "you can guarantee to me that he won't attempt to escape."

"What?" Obi-Wan shook his head in disbelief. "I can't guarantee that!"

"Then I guess you'll just have to tell Anakin that you can't go to the festival," she said with a shrug. "Or I can tell him that I made the offer and you vetoed it…"

"Ugh, Zena, there's no need for blackmail." She smiled a little at that while Obi-Wan sighed and rubbed a hand over his face. He glanced over at the fresher door, which was still closed. He wondered if Anakin was sulking in there or what. Maybe he was trying on everything he'd purchased again.

"Okay…." he said to Zena. "Let me talk to him and I'll… well, I'll talk to him."

"Make him swear not to try anything," Zena said. She seemed irritated with him, which felt very unfair to Obi-Wan. "It's not hard."

"It is though," Obi-Wan insisted. He lowered his voice into a hissed whisper, although it was unlikely Anakin could hear anything through the door of the fresher. "That wouldn't mean—he'll do whatever he wants to regardless of what he says."

Zena quirked her eyebrows at him like she disagreed. "Make him promise to be good. You've done it before, and it's worked. He went from constant back talk and disobedience in the Center to compliance after you started visiting him."

Obi-Wan sighed and rubbed his eyes again. "That was different. He had fewer opportunities to do something stupid there. He's so impulsive. He won't be able to resist if there's any opening for escape."

"Trust starts with opportunity," Zena said. It sounded rote, like she was quoting something. "There can be no trust without the possibility of breaking trust. Make him promise. Then give him the opportunity to show that he can keep it."

"All right, all right," Obi-Wan said, taking her point. "I'll try."

"Good," she said. "I'll comm you in a few days to confirm."

Anakin came out of the fresher with damp hair and one of his new outfits on.

"That was rude," Obi-Wan said to him. "Not saying goodbye to Zena."

Anakin shrugged. "It's not like it was a social visit. She was on duty."

"But we want to be on good terms with her," Obi-Wan said. "You should want that. She's personally invested in you. That's useful. Don't squander that by being disrespectful."

Anakin snorted like he doubted Zena's level of personal investment in his development. "Where can I put these?" he asked, hefting the clothes in his arms.

"There's an empty cabinet over here," Obi-Wan said, getting up to show him.

Obi-Wan opened the panel and they sorted through Anakin's new clothing together, folding it up and arranging it in stacks inside.

"So," Obi-Wan said as he folded up a pair of pants. "Before she left, Zena agreed to consider taking you to the spring festival. I might be able to convince her to let us go—"

"Really!?" Anakin's face brightened with excitement.

"But," Obi-Wan said. "Before I do, I need reassurance from you that this isn't a bad idea."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Anakin frowned as he matched up a pair of socks.

"What do you think it means?" Obi-Wan said. "Why might I be concerned about taking you out into a large crowd at a busy street festival?"

Anakin let out a dramatic groan of annoyance. "Come on, buir—the guard detail would be following us the whole time! And Zena'll probably put a tracker on me again! And we'll be surrounded by hostile Mandalorians!"

"Not hostile," Obi-Wan said, mildly. "Yes, it's very unlikely that you'd be able to escape, but I've seen you get out of even more hopeless situations. The odds of success don't often factor into your decision-making."

Anakin sighed deeply and rolled his eyes again. "Obi-Wan, I'm not stupid! I have no idea where to go even if I did get away. I have no idea where the spaceports are in Sundari or how to get on a ship, and Zena clearly wants to see if I make an escape attempt. It's obvious she's testing me, and, you know, it might be hard to believe, but I actually paid attention in my survival and resistance training."

"I know," Obi-Wan said. "I remember. Master Tae-Rin was very impressed with you."

Anakin blinked. "He was?"

Obi-Wan smiled a little. "Yes, he told me you were excellent when you could keep your emotions in check—best in your class at dissembling."

Anakin snorted a little. "That's not saying much. Most of the other younglings were terrible at lying. It drove me nuts. They'd all start panicking the instant we got caught doing anything and couldn't come up with a plausible lie to save their lives."

Obi-Wan stopped smiling. "Well… they had the luxury of nativity. Most Temple-raised Jedi aren't good at deception."

"You don't have that problem," Anakin said, so deadpan that it was unclear if he meant it more as a quip or as a criticism.

Obi-Wan laughed, choosing to take it as a joke. "I had to be as Qui-Gon's padawan. One of us needed to be the diplomat and get us out of all the situations he got us into."

"On the other hand, I always hated diplomacy lessons." Anakin let out a little sigh and his eyes dropped. He seemed tired suddenly, his tension gone and replaced with apathy. "Anyway, what I was saying was… my point is, the best strategy is to act compliant in the early stages of capture, when security is highest, and work to gain trust so you have more freedom and access to information to plan a proper escape."

"Yes," Obi-Wan agreed. "Patience would be the best strategy."

"I can be patient," Anakin said, his voice flat. "Besides, there's another reason you don't have to worry about me escaping."

"What's that?"

Anakin raised his eyes to look at him, staring hard as he said, "I'm not leaving here without you."

Obi-Wan met his gaze. Anakin's lip quivered for a moment, as if there was more he wanted to say but was holding back. Obi-Wan studied him and decided he was being truthful. Mostly. Anakin surely had a whole host of incredibly risky escape plans in his head, but Obi-Wan was inclined to believe him that he wasn't planning to do anything at the festival itself.

Besides, it made sense for Anakin to think like that—not wanting to be separated now that he'd found Obi-Wan again. He had never been good at calculated retreat when it required leaving comrades behind.

"I guess you're going to have to be very patient then," Obi-Wan said. If he was waiting for an opportunity to knock Obi-Wan out cold and carry him bodily off the planet, then that wasn't going to be an easy scenario to arrange. "Keep playing along, complete your lessons, be a good recruit."

"I guess so," Anakin agreed, looking away.

"Good," Obi-Wan said. "Then I'll talk to Zena."

Chapter Text

Over the next few days, Anakin settled into Obi-Wan's apartment, and they developed a routine. In the morning, after they first woke up, they meditated and then ran through a few lightsaber forms together. Anakin would do his physical therapy exercises, and then they would go downstairs for breakfast. Reg usually joined them for breakfast, much to Obi-Wan's annoyance. No matter what time they went down, he always seemed to be in the cafeteria.

After breakfast, they came back to the room and spent a few hours working on Anakin's Mandalorian culture coursework. Obi-Wan was insisting that they speak Mando'a as much as possible, forcing Anakin to use it as their primary language together. He'd started ignoring Anakin or feigning ignorance whenever he said anything to him in Basic, much to Anakin's annoyance.

Anakin wasn't advancing as much as he would have in the full immersion program at the Indoctrination Center, but his comprehension and vocabulary had improved a great deal. Obi-Wan was supplementing Anakin's language coursework with a series of books that retold famous Mandalorian stories for children in simple language. It was something he had read himself while working to improve his Mando’a; the stories were part of the shared cultural background of most Mandalorians, and they were considerably more interesting than the readings included in the Indoctrination coursework.

They got to go out on another excursion at the end of the week when Anakin was due for a checkup at the medcenter. They saw one of the healers on his medical team first, who remarked on the impressive speed of his recovery and declared him fully healed. Afterward, they saw his physical therapist, who confirmed that he was cleared for all normal activities and moderate exercise.

"Keep up with the exercises I showed you," the physical therapist said. "But you're already doing great. If I hadn't seen you myself, I never would have believed that it had only been a couple of weeks since your surgery."

"He's very good at sticking to an exercise regime," Obi-Wan said.

"Not like I have much else to do right now," Anakin said with an eye roll.

The days passed, blurring together. Obi-Wan was still on leave and not required to report to work in the government district. They had cut off his virtual access on his work datascreen, which meant he couldn't even check the activities of the task force remotely. That would have made him paranoid—did they suspect he was a leak?—but it was probably ordered directly by Bo-Katan to "help" him by cutting off a source of outside stress during this family emergency.

Obi-Wan had almost forgotten about the spring festival by the time Zena comm'd him to follow up about it. Obi-Wan was able to honestly tell her that he didn't think Anakin would use the festival as an excuse for an escape attempt. She seemed pleased, and they made plans for when she would arrive the following day to escort them.

Hypothetically, if this was all an elaborate ploy by Anakin to lull him into a false sense of security, then he was doing a masterful job of it, but Obi-Wan didn't think it was. Anakin was falling into the expected pattern for recruits—pretending to play along, immersing himself in the culture to gain trust, and playing the waiting game. The end result of that pattern was almost always accepting the bargain of Mandalorian citizenship. Eventually, you realized that if you wanted to escape the Indoctrination program, then swearing the Resol'nare was the only viable option for getting out. By then, you had formed relationships and made connections inside the Empire. Your daily needs were taken care of and, once you graduated, you had new duties and responsibilities to keep you busy. The long-awaited opportunity to escape never materialized and continuing on the path to full Mandalorian citizenship became much easier than deviating from it. This would be the likely end result for Anakin as well, especially if he wasn't willing to leave Obi-Wan behind to escape.

On the day of the festival, Zena arrived at their apartment at the appointed hour. She handed Anakin the tracking cuff without a word. He only grumbled slightly while putting it on.

Downstairs, Jhoka was waiting for them by the front entrance of the building, along with someone else that Obi-Wan had not been expecting to see.

"Hello, Reg…" Obi-Wan said.

"Jate vaar'tuur!" Reg said cheerfully, adding with a nod, "good morning, Anakin."

"Hi again," Anakin said, and Reg flashed him a bright smile.

"Are you coming to the festival?" Obi-Wan asked, trying to keep his tone neutral to disguise his feelings on the matter.

"Yes! I ran into Jhoka yesterday," Reg explained. "And they were nice enough to invite me along." He repeated what they had said in Mando'a for Jhoka's benefit, who smiled and nodded.

"Ah," Obi-Wan said. "Yes, how nice of them..."

"Yeah!" Anakin agreed, more enthusiastically.

"Zena will be escorting us," Obi-Wan said, pointing to the Indoctrinator, who was standing behind them. She had been hanging back, positioning herself like a guard keeping watch, but Obi-Wan waved for her to join them.

"Hello, Indoctrinator," Reg said, his tone polite.

"Zena Saxon," she said by way of introduction after she came up to stand beside them.

"Reg Syko," Reg said. "And that's Jhoka Kurs."

"I remember you, Reg," Zena said, keeping her eyes on him.

Reg blanched, but then his face quickly smoothed out into his usual, affable expression. "Oh, my!" He laughed in a friendly way. "Forgive me for not remembering you…"

"I wouldn't expect you to," Zena said, watching him with an inscrutable expression. "I was never one of your direct instructors."

"Ah, well," Reg pivoted, seemingly recovering quickly from his surprise. "Then I'll ask you, please, not to tell tales out of school about me!"

Zena shook her head with a smile. "I would never."

"Now, tales about Obi-Wan, on the other hand…"

"Shush, you," Obi-Wan said before he switched languages and added, "We should be speaking Mando'a today, for Jhoka's sake, and so Anakin can practice."

"And for the full 'Old New Year' experience," Reg added.

"A'oryc," Anakin said. Grand.

They departed together, walking down the street to the nearest tube transit station. They took the tube four levels up and then south to the large plaza in front of the Mand'alor's Palace. The vast, open space of the plaza had been transformed by rows of temporary booths into a grid of pedestrian streets. The booths housed vendors selling food and drinks, souvenirs, toys, and all sorts of handmade crafts. At the center of the plaza, a large pole towered high over the roofs of the booths, topped with a huge wreath of leafy green boughs, bright flowers, and colorful ribbons. It was a traditional symbol of the New Year. Centuries ago, every tiny Mandalorian village had raised such a pole to signal the beginning of spring.

They walked down the rows of booths, chatting happily and attempting to explain various aspects of the Old New Year holiday to Anakin, who was doing his best to keep up with the conversation. This was the sort of situation—outdoors, chaotic, multiple speakers—that pushed the limits for beginning language learners. It would be difficult, but good for him to have so much practice with casual conversation.

As they walked, Obi-Wan spotted several familiar figures tailing them. The same guard detail that had come with them when they went clothes shopping was here today. They were keeping a good distance away from them, which was nice, letting Anakin feel normal and not like he was being watched.

The group stopped at a fruit vendor to get a bag full of tracy'sale, a small citrus fruit, to share for breakfast. It was the first of many "good luck" foods or beverages that one was supposed to eat in order to guarantee a prosperous new year. Jhoka was trying to explain to Anakin that there was a way to peel the fruit that was said to be especially lucky, and Anakin was listening with a look of intense concentration.

Obi-Wan had fallen back to walk beside Zena. He ate a section of his own tracy'sal, which was sweet and juicy. Turning to Zena, he asked her, "What are your boys up to today? Will you be seeing them later?"

"Oh—" Zena looked surprised, and for a brief moment, sad, before her expression smoothed out. "No—well, I'll comm them later, but they've all moved away and left Sundari."

"Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't realize that. Where do they live?"

"Concordia," Zena brightened, looking proud as she explained, "Xath, he's my middle boy, he wanted to become a farmer for some reason." She shook her head. "No idea where he got that from, but he got it into his head to move to Concordia when they started that agricultural recovery program there. Once he had some cheap land and got himself started, he managed to convince both of his brothers to join him. Now they all have a collective farm there."

"Huh," Obi-Wan said. "What do they grow?"

"Grain mostly," Zena said with a shrug. "And they have a little orchard. I'm not sure how profitable it is… but they seem to be making a go of it."

"It must be hard, having them so far away."

"It is…" Zena looked away. "But I visit whenever I have the time, and, you know, the commercial fights are only three hours long now, and there's regular service from the Main Terminal nearly every day. It's really not like they're that far away. Not like it used to be."

"That's good," Obi-Wan said. "Do you think you'll retire there?"

She laughed. "Oh, probably, especially once they all get married and start having children… I'd rather live in Sundari than on some dusty farm, but I suppose I'll have to make do."

Obi-Wan laughed with her. "I can't say it would be my preference either… but aren't the forests there supposed to be very beautiful?"

"They are…" Zena agreed. "But the farm is on the great plains; it's all flat land that was deforested centuries ago for farming. But a few hours away are the Chaaj mountain range and the Hettyc National Forest."

"Ah," Obi-Wan said. "Can you see the mountains from the farm?"

"Not really… well, they're sort of a blue haze on the horizon. The National Forest is nice though. They brought me there to take a hike once."

The group had reached the far end of the plaza, where a temporary stable had been set up. A long row of half-doors faced outward, allowing the passers-by to see and interact with the animals inside. The long necks of munvideke hung out above the doors, watching the Mandalorians walking past with curious eyes. They were tall beasts with long necks and low backs, similar in body shape to rontos, but warm-blooded and with shaggy fur. They had been brought to Mandalore centuries ago for use as mounts and pack animals.

Two of the munvideke's handlers were standing in front of the stable. They were talking to visitors about the beasts and giving out vegetables for people to feed to them by hand. Ahead of them, a tall head dipped down to take food offered by a child, who giggled as the animal's dark blue tongue swept over their palm.

Jhoka went up to one of the handlers to get a vegetable, and they all gathered around to watch as they offered it to a munvidek. The beast's shaggy hair hung over its eyes as it leaned down to take the offered vegetable.

"People ride them?" Anakin asked as they all watched the mum'videk munching on its snack.

"Yes," Reg said. "They dress them up and put horns on them for the New Year parade. It’s supposed to be—"

"Good luck?" Anakin said.

"Yes, how did you guess?" Reg asked, laughing.

"The horns are meant to look like Mythosaurs," Obi-Wan said. "You'll see them later, probably when they do a procession before the fireworks."

"There's fireworks?"

"Not really," Reg said, and the same moment Jhoka said "yes."

"Substitute fireworks," Jhoka said. "Like the substitute Mythosaurs."

"It's more of a light show," Reg said. "Since you can't set off fireworks inside of the dome. But there's music and drumming that goes with it."

"Neat," Anakin said. "Are we staying for that?"

All of their heads turned to look at Zena.

"If we feel like it," she said, looking at Anakin as she added, "And if you behave."

Anakin cleared his throat and gave a strained smile in response. He reached out to pat the munvidek on its furry neck.

"They're cute," Jhoka said. "Not very scary for Mythosaurs."

"Pretty smelly though," Reg said, pinching his nose.

They continued on, and the group spent a pleasant morning wandering from booth to booth, admiring the traditional crafts on display for sale and buying snacks to share between them.

They could hear snatches of music in the distance, and followed the sound until they reached a series of raised platforms set up on the outskirts of the festival as stages for musicians or speakers or other entertainers. They listened to a quartet of Mandalorian woodwind instruments and then wandered over to another stage that was set up as a sparring ring. There was a holodisplay off to one side listing the different groups who would be there today to demonstrate traditional fighting arts. It was currently occupied by a troupe of athletes who were exhibiting a form of Mandalorian wrestling that Obi-Wan had never heard of before.

Obi-Wan wouldn't have minded staying to watch the wrestlers, but Reg insisted that they needed to find someone selling hett'alayi—little rings of fried dough—that he was fond of and got them all to come with him. They passed three different booths selling the treat, but Reg insisted he wanted to find his "favorite" vendor. After stopping to ask multiple people for directions, they finally located the desired booth at the very front of the plaza in the shadow of the Mand'alore's palace. Obi-Wan had to admit that the hett'alayi there was very good. They had all sorts of options with fillings of different kinds of jam and nuts, and everyone got different types to sample and share among themselves.

"Are these good luck too?" Anakin asked, his mouth full.

"Not especially," said Reg, who had a smudge of powdered sugar on his nose. "But they are delicious."

A series of loud bangs went off behind them, and they turned as one, startled. Smoke was rising up above the heads of the crowd. There was the sound of laughter and the pounding of feet as several children ran away, darting around the bodies of the startled adults like fish around rocks in a stream. As quickly as they appeared, the children vanished into the surrounding crowd. The noisemaker they had dropped continued sparking and crackling loudly as it spun in a circle, letting out a great quantity of blue smoke.

Their small group backed up, following the rest of the crowd as they all moved away from the offending smoke.

"Those were real fireworks," Reg said, sounding admiring as he fanned his face and cleared his throat.

"They must have gotten them off-world." Zena folded her arms across her chest plate and frowned as she looked in the direction the children had disappeared.

"Are fireworks not allowed?" Anakin asked.

"No," Jhoka said. "Not inside the dome. They aren't even allowed to sell them in Sundari."

"It is traditional," Reg said with a shrug. To Anakin, he added, "They scare away bad spirits."

"Naturally," Anakin said.

"When I was growing up, I had friends who would get them every year somehow," Jhoka said. "It's not that difficult if you know who to ask."

"Getting them is one thing," Zena said. "But setting them off in a crowd and startling everyone is very rude… I wonder where their parents are."

"Probably wandering around like us," Reg said with a shrug. "Kids will be kids."

After they finished the hett'alayi, there was some debate about where to go next. Jhoka wanted to eat something more substantial and suggested they go to an outdoor dining area that was located toward the center of the plaza, next to the New Year pole, where they could sit down and get a proper meal and not just festival snacks.

"I'm not really hungry…" Anakin said, looking at Obi-Wan.

"Me neither," Obi-Wan agreed.

"Do you want to go back to watch the fighting stage?"

"Sure."

They separated from Reg and Jhoka, with promises to find them again later. Zena came with them since, naturally, she couldn't leave her charge. They made their way back through the rows of booths to the other side of the plaza. The crowds were growing thicker now. There were many families and lots of children running around underfoot. The mood was relaxed and festive as everyone enjoyed the holiday.

When they reached the fighting stage, two teenage boys were sparring with Mandalorian short swords called ge'kad. It was a demonstration fight—choreographed, with plenty of dramatic moves and flourishes to excite the crowd, but it was ably done. Obi-Wan and Anakin joined in the applause when it was done. They seemed to have arrived at a break between demonstrations, as the stage was left empty after the boys finished. The small crowd watching began to disburse, while the ge'kad boys stood in the open area next to the stage answering questions.

The boys had a table with practice weapons laid out and a hologram displaying information about the various sport fighting leagues in Sundari. Anakin pushed through the remaining spectators to take a look while Obi-Wan and Zena followed behind.

"What's this called?" Anakin asked one of the boys in Mando'a, taking up the practice sword and examining it.

“Ge’kad," one of the boys answered. He had short, dark hair and looked like he was a few years younger than Anakin. "It's a reconstruction based on the ancient martial art."

"I see…" Anakin held the sword out and made an abortive practice sweep. "Can I…?"

"Please!" The boy motioned for him to come around the table to the open area, where there was a circle marked off on the ground as practice space.

Anakin glanced at Obi-Wan. "Is it okay—?"

"Go ahead," Zena said. Anakin nodded at her.

He followed the boy into the circle and listened patiently as he showed him how to hold the practice sword and explained the basics of ge'kad techniques. At one point, Anakin glanced over at Obi-Wan and shot him a quick smile, clearly amused at being taken for a novice. The style itself wasn't too different from Jedi forms, most likely because it had been developed in response to Mandalorians encountering Jedi in battle.

Anakin spent a few minutes practicing the basic ge'kad moves until the boy who was instructing him was drawn away by other visitors with questions. While the boy spoke to the others, Anakin remained in the practice area repeating the moves he had learned. He was clearly enjoying the opportunity to hold a sword, even if it was a practice weapon.

"How's the balance?" Obi-Wan asked, calling out to him from across the table.

"Fine," Anakin said. "But it feels heavy, of course."

"It's good practice," Zena said.

"…yeah." Anakin held out his hand and balanced the blunt tip of the practice sword on his palm. He moved his hand around, bobbing a bit until he found the sword's center and was able to hold it without it tipping over. Balancing practice swords or staves like this was a game that initiates often played at the Jedi Temple. The child who could keep it balanced the longest won.

Still holding the sword balanced vertically, Anakin lowered his palm and in a smooth motion tossed the sword up so that it remained vertical in the air and he was able to walk under its path and then hold his hand behind him to catch the hilt as it came down. He brandished it theatrically, repeatedly circling it behind his back and around his front in the flourish that was a signature move for him. It was a motion that looked much more dramatic when wielding a lightsaber with the blade creating brief circles of light as it moved, but it was still impressive when done with a wooden sword.

"Fun trick," said a voice behind Obi-Wan. "But can you fight?" It was another of the boys who had performed in the demo earlier.

Anakin looked up and smiled at the boy with a guileless expression that Obi-Wan recognized as him getting ready to hustle an opponent. "Of course. Want to spar?"

"Sure," the boy said. "Come on." He turned and headed toward the empty fighting stage.

"I don't know if that's a good idea…" Obi-Wan trailed off as Anakin walked away, ignoring him. He looked at Zena for assistance, but she only shrugged, unconcerned. Realizing she wasn't going to stop him, he called after Anakin, "Don't hurt yourself!"

"I won't!” he said, not looking back as he followed the boy.

Obi-Wan sighed, glancing back at Zena.

"This should be interesting," she said.

They followed Anakin and the boy over to the sparring ring and watched as they stepped up on the platform and turned on the shield that surrounded it to protect onlookers. The dark-haired boy who had been instructing Anakin earlier came over as well along with a handful of other spectators and boys from the sword-fighting group.

Anakin held his sword up. "I'm ready."

"Akaanir!" the boy said in response. Fight, the traditional start to a ge'kad match.

The boy held the sword in front of him with two hands in a stance that was good, but stiff. As they circled one another, the boy's feet lagged somewhat. There was a level of awkwardness about him that was completely absent from Anakin, who took to the sparring ring like a fish to water.

The boy struck out at Anakin, faster than his clumsy stance suggested, and Anakin blocked easily. He let the boy attack him repeatedly, swiping his strikes away as if he was swatting an insect. They circled around one another, Anakin mostly playing defense and keeping his movements broad when he struck back. He was giving the boy plenty of time to react and block him. The boy was starting to get frustrated as he failed over and over to get through Anakin's defenses. His attacks became more furious and also sloppier. He left himself vulnerable repeatedly, but Anakin didn't take the openings, staying calm as his opponent grew more heated.

Eventually, they got into a bind, and Anakin was able to force the boy's blade down and get him to twist his arm in the wrong direction. Then it was easy for Anakin to use the leverage of his own sword to force the other boy's weapon out of his hand. With an easy snap, the grip popped out of the boy's fingers and the sword went flying. The spectators gasped as the sword struck the protective barrier with a crackle. It froze in place for a moment before the shield released and it slid down to the ground with a clatter.

The boy cursed. He was sweaty and breathing heavily, while Anakin wasn't even winded.

"Not bad," Anakin said. "But you leave yourself open when you—"

The boy said something rude in response and climbed out of the ring. Anakin shrugged, unbothered, and looked around at the spectators.

"Anyone else?" he asked, raising his blade in a casual challenge.

Three of the ge'kad boys stepped forward at once, and then squabbled among themselves about who got to go first. Anakin watched them with a mild expression, feigning disinterest, although Obi-Wan could tell he was enjoying this immensely.

The three boys finally sorted out which of them would go first, and the victor hopped into the ring. He was eager and aggressive, and attacked Anakin immediately. Anakin defeated him in three strikes, successfully feinting high and then landing a blow to his leg followed by an aborted stab to the chest. The other two boys followed, one after the other, and Anakin defeated them each with ruthless efficiency. He was no longer holding back, no longer hiding his expertise, and other opponents began lining up as spectators gathered to watch.

Obi-Wan felt a twinge of worry that Anakin might be overexerting himself. He had been cleared for moderate activity, and had claimed that he felt fully healed, but it still hadn't been that long since his injury…

But Anakin was being much more economical than his usual, aggressive fighting style. He was limiting his movements to only what was necessary to defeat his opponents, and wasn't performing any of the more acrobatics and flashy feats that he was capable of. Obi-Wan was pleased he was resisting the urge to flaunt his abilities for the crowd… the crowd which was growing by the minute.

Obi-Wan glanced around at the increasing number of spectators nervously. As more people gathered, others noticed and came over to see what was happening. Zena, noticing his anxiety, said, "It's fine, let him show off a bit. They'll have to use the stage soon for another demonstration."

Anakin was fighting his sixth opponent now, an adult warrior who managed to keep up with him for several exchanges. The man was skilled, and Anakin was forced to work harder, moving quicker to block his blade. The man nearly hit him after a fast series of strikes that ended in a beautifully executed feint, but Anakin dropped and dodged, rolling briefly across the floor of the sparring ring behind his opponent before popping up again on his other side. The warrior was unprepared for this swift reversal, and Anakin was able to get in a vicious upward stab at his neck before the man got his own sword up to block.

The small audience applauded, and the man laughed affably as he looked down at the sword point wavering in front of his throat. Anakin stepped back, and the man shook his head at his defeat. He threw his sword aside and then joined in the applause for Anakin.

There was another challenger getting ready to climb up, but the man stayed in the ring, not immediately exiting as Anakin's other opponents had. He waited until the applause had died down and then raised his hand to point at Anakin.

"Ataru," the man said, smiling as if he had caught Anakin in a bit of mischief, and speaking loudly enough for everyone watching to hear him. "You have Jedi training!"

Chapter Text

The revelation of Anakin's Jedi origins rang out over the heads of the crowd, eliciting noises of surprise and a few jeers in response.

Obi-Wan's anxiety curdled into fear. He turned to Zena, who had stiffened beside him. She raised her vambrace to speak into her communicator, warning the other guards that they might have trouble.

Obi-Wan's eyes darted around, taking in the total size of the gathered crowd and assessing possible exit routes. The mood was mostly one of shock and curiosity, but that could quickly turn into outrage and hostility or even violence once the crowd recovered from the surprise. It wouldn't be easy for him to get Anakin out of here—many of the spectators were armed, and he saw at least five warriors in full armor—but he could count on Zena's assistance and also that of the other guards, assuming they were close enough to intervene.

"Did he say Jedi?" someone from the back of the crowd asked, and another voice shouted back, "Of course he's Jedi, who else could handle a sword like that?"

Anakin, to his credit, remained calm. His face did not betray any tension as he looked out at the agitated mob. He turned back to his opponent, who still stood across from him in the ring. The man was smiling, and he didn't seem hostile despite his recognition of Anakin's Jedi past. After a moment's hesitation, Anakin brought his hands together in front of his body, clasping his fist with the opposite hand, and bowed to him in a crisp movement. It was as good as saying "you got me;" a nonverbal acknowledgement that he had assessed Anakin correctly. A huge, self-satisfied smile split the man's face, and he bowed back in response. After he straightened, the man took a step toward Anakin, and Obi-Wan tensed, but he only put his hand on Anakin's shoulder in a friendly manner.

The man raised his hand into the air and called out to those watching, "Aru'e lo vod!" Enemies into brothers. It was a common phrase or motto used to refer to the Indoctrination program. "Let's hear some appreciation for our little brother!"

There was scattered clapping and a few cheers mixed with jeers. The man nudged Anakin in the side, encouraging him to raise his hand and wave to the crowd with him. Anakin shot him a dubious look, but then turned and waved. Gradually, the applause grew louder and more sincere as more members of the crowd joined in.

"You're all welcome to try for yourselves," the man shouted in his booming voice. "But I'll wager no one here can defeat our Jedi brother!"

A few voices cheered in agreement, while many others expressed the desire to prove him wrong. Anakin found Obi-Wan in the crowd, making eye contact as he smiled a little at him. "Maybe one," he mouthed.

The man had steered the crowd well. The show of good-sportsmanship had turned their mood in a more positive direction. They felt curious about Anakin, and some had the urge to challenge him, but Obi-Wan didn't sense any dangerous intentions. It was the urge to face a famously skilled opponent, rather than to destroy an ancient enemy. He took a breath and let go of some of his anxiety as he continued scanning the crowd.

The man finally let go of Anakin's shoulder and stepped out of the sparring ring, making way for the next challenger, who was already waiting to enter the sparring ring. Bets were placed as this new opponent climbed up.

The speed of the next match was much faster. The newcomer had little experience with sword fighting and was defeated in seconds. Credits changed hands frantically and there was barely time to place new bets before a new opponent climbed up and was also dispatched swiftly.

The furious pace continued as three more challengers tried their luck in the ring. Anakin was gracious to them all, never gloating, and the crowd was with him now, enjoying the display of skill and cheering each demonstration of his mastery.

"Obi-Wan Kenobi, I should have known!" a booming voice said from behind, startling Obi-Wan. He turned to see the man who had recognized Anakin's fighting style pushing through the onlookers toward him. He was large and barrel-chested, and would have been rather intimidating except that he was several inches shorter than Obi-Wan.

"I'm afraid you have me at a disadvantage," Obi-Wan said.

The man laughed. "I'm Tor Taakulnaar," he said, adding unnecessarily, "we've never met, but I know of you." He pointed toward the sparring ring with his thumb. "Who is he?"

"Anakin Skywalker," Obi-Wan said.

Tor raised his brows. "Your padawan?"

"My son."

Tor nodded at that with a skeptical expression. Obi-Wan's face twitched with a spasm of irritation he couldn't suppress. He could feel his polite smile turning into something visibly insincere. Fortunately, Zena took that moment to insert herself into the conversation, and distracted from Obi-Wan's slipping mask.

"Hello Tor," Zena said, elbowing another spectator aside so she could step around Obi-Wan and stand next to Tor.

Tor turned to her with a broad smile. "Good to see you, Zena!" he said, full of congenial familiarity. Was he an Indoctrinator? Was that how he knew Zena? A retired one, maybe. His physique was that of a former warrior gone to seed. "How are you? How are the boys?"

"Oh, good, keeping busy," she said. "How's your wife?"

He laughed. "Probably wondering where I got off to! I left her shopping for a present for her sister."

While Zena and Tor were catching up, a new challenger climbed up into the sparring ring—a huge warrior in armor who was probably twice Anakin's weight. The armor was more of a hindrance than a help in this form of combat, and Anakin dispatched with the fight in three swift moves. There were groans and laughter from the warrior's friends in the crowd, who shouted teasing remarks while the rest of the crowd politely applauded.

Tor leaned over to Obi-Wan as if he wanted to say something in confidence, but he continued to speak so loudly that it defeated the gesture. "Sorry for putting the kid on the spot. I had no idea there was a new Jedi recruit!"

"Now you're not the only one who knows," Zena said, giving him a dry look.

"I was excited!" Tor answered, indignant in his own defense. "I haven't fought such a skilled lightsaber opponent in years."

"Tor is part of the Ne'nau Traat'aliit," Zena explained to Obi-Wan. The Fire-Snuffer Squad.

"Formerly!" Tor added quickly. "I'm retired now."

"I see," Obi-Wan said, trying to keep his voice neutral. The N.T. was a Mandalorian special forces squad with a long history. The group had been founded centuries ago to counter Jedi in combat. They were notorious within the Order for successfully killing many Jedi Knights during the Republic-Mandalorian Wars. There hadn't been a direct confrontation between Jedi and Mandalorians in decades, but the N.T.'s legend still lived on. When Obi-Wan was a youngling, the older initiates and padawans told scary stories about encounters with the N.T. along the Mandalorian border.

Tor looked like he was three decades older than Obi-Wan, which meant he would have been active during the civil war, when Mandalorian attention was focused inward and there were no Jedi to fight. This was a man who had spent his entire career preparing for a battle with the Jedi that had never come.

On stage, Anakin outmaneuvered his current opponent with a series of devastatingly fast strikes. Tor laughed heartily and clapped in approval. "Ka'ra, he is good! You trained him well."

"He was a good student," Obi-Wan said.

"Naturally! He's a credit to your lineage. As skillful a duelist as Dooku, I'd say, if not as refined."

Obi-Wan couldn't help a jerk of surprise at hearing Qui-Gon's master's name in a Mandalorian's mouth. He cleared his throat in a likely-unsuccessful attempt to hide his surprise. "Anakin never trained with Dooku. He had… left the Order by the time Anakin became a padawan."

"Ah, of course," Tor said. "I see the influence of Yoda in him rather than Dooku."

"Indeed," Obi-Wan said, keeping his eyes on the sparring ring as if he was only half-listening to the conversation. A familiar boy was climbing up onto the platform now—the dark-haired one who had first instructed Anakin in ge'kad before this all began.

The boy saluted Anakin, holding his sword vertically in front of his face in the traditional Makashi dueling salute, and Anakin returned the salute with a slight smile. Obi-Wan wondered where he had learned that from.

Tor laughed beside him, clearly wondering the same thing. "Speaking of Makashi! Bet he got that from a Holo."

"Oh?"

"The fighting in the historical dramas isn't very accurate," Tor went on. "It's more about entertaining the audience, you know, than about depicting a realistic fight. But you sometimes see a dueling salute in them. There was a very popular one about the Sith Wars that had a Jedi who switched sides and turned against his former master—"

"How interesting," Obi-Wan said, distracted.

In the sparring ring, the boy copied Anakin's stance, mimicking Anakin's ready position. As they began to fight, it became clear the boy had been watching Anakin and attempting to learn from his example. Now, he put his observational lessons into action, imitating the same basic forms to defend and attack that Anakin had been using.

Anakin studied him in turn with interest. He made a series of exploratory stabs, aiming at different parts of the boy's body one after the other and getting him to cycle through the different blocks. The boy deflected well enough, although Anakin was telegraphing his movements and going slower than he was capable of, giving him time to react and get into each position. The boy protected his body well with the sword, but he was clearly attempting to reproduce something that he didn't fully understand the nuances of.

"Ah, this boy is clever," Tor said. "He learned a lot just from watching Anakin fight the others." He chuckled to himself and added, "He'd be a good recruit for the N.T."

After Anakin had tested the boy's defenses, he backed off and let him set the rhythm of the fight. The boy took the opportunity to go on the offensive, advancing and striking at Anakin. The two of them exchanged blows for several minutes, Anakin mostly remaining defensive so the boy could practice attacking. The boy did decently well for his skill level, but he eventually made an obvious mistake and let Anakin into his guard for a strike at his chest, and then the spar was over.

He took defeat well, making a frustrated face, but nodding to Anakin in thanks before he hopped out of the sparring ring. The crowd cheered for him, recognizing that he had held his own against a much more experienced opponent.

"Good show!" Tor said, joining in the cheers for the boy.

From behind them, a voice called out, "Zena! Obi-Wan!" He turned to see Jhoka and Reg pushing through the crowd toward them.

"What's going on?" Reg asked, looking excited. He was carrying a carton of hot roasted nuts, the smell rich and enticing.

"Anakin was invited to spar," Zena said. "And then some other challengers took an interest."

"He's been wiping the mat with anyone stupid enough to try," Tor said, pointing at himself and adding, "Including me!" and then laughing loudly at his own expense.

Reg shot Tor a sideways look, clearly wondering who he was. Obi-Wan reached out while he was distracted and took a handful of the roasted nuts. They were coated in sugar, salty and sweet.

"He's been showing off," Obi-Wan told Reg, helping himself to another handful of nuts.

Up on the platform, Anakin was unoccupied for the first time in a while. After the last bout, no new challengers had volunteered to climb into the ring.

"Anyone else? Anyone?" Anakin called out. There was a murmur in response, members of the crowd turning and looking at one another, but no one stepped forward.

With a casual twist of his wrist, Anakin made a flourish, twirling his sword around himself so fast it became a blur. His hair was a mess by now and there were patches of sweat showing through on his shirt. "I'm getting tired. Surely someone can beat me."

"How long has this been going on?" Jhoka asked.

"Too long," Obi-Wan said.

"The better part of an hour," Zena said. "But this should be the end of it."

Anakin was breathing heavily but in a controlled way as he tapped into the Force for endurance. He was holding up well, but Obi-Wan could tell the exertion was beginning to get to him. As a padawan, Anakin had loved sparring and would spend hours upon hours practicing with Obi-Wan or any other Jedi willing to accept his challenge. An hour's sparring normally wouldn't be more than a warm-up for him, but he was wearing out faster than normal. His stamina hadn't fully recovered after the period of convalescence.

Obi-Wan cupped his hands around his mouth and shouted up to the stage, "That's enough, it's getting late!" He had to repeat himself to be heard by Anakin over the crowd. "We should be going."

Hearing this, Tor beside him groaned "no!" and other members of the audience joined in, trying to shout Obi-Wan down. Anakin held a hand up, waving at them to be silent, and when they calmed down he shouted, "My father says I have to go!" There was a groan of disappointment, but then Anakin turned and pointed his blade at Obi-Wan with a sly smile and continued, "and I will go, if he can best me."

That caused a loud "oooh!" of excitement, people turning to look at Obi-Wan with interest. Tor laughed very loudly and clapped in approval. "Yes, go up, Obi-Wan!"

Obi-Wan glanced at Zena, uncertain, and she nodded at him. "Better get in there."

"Yeah!" Reg agreed, speaking around a mouthful of roasted nuts, while Jhoka wished him luck.

Obi-Wan only hesitated another moment before pushing forward. The crowd parted for him as he approached the platform. Someone held out a practice sword and he took it. Odds were calculated and bets were placed as he climbed up and entered the sparring ring to face Anakin.

Once he was standing across from him, Obi-Wan took a deep breath and let it out. He released his tension from talking to Tor, putting it out of his mind. He let go of the crowd and his fear of their recognition as well. He imagined the audience receding away into the distance, leaving the small circle of the sparring ring alone on a dark plane. He focused on Anakin and the here and now, holding onto the present moment lightly but firmly in the same way that he focused his attention in meditation. Sparring itself was a kind of meditation for two, and he and Anakin had years of practice at it.

Anakin quirked his eyebrow at Obi-Wan, asking silently if he was ready and Obi-Wan nodded. Anakin winked as he raised his blade and saluted him with it. Obi-Wan returned the salute and then the fight was on. Anakin moved quickly, darting forward to attack, knowing he needed to be fast if he was going to have any chance against Obi-Wan when he was tired and Obi-Wan was fresh.

Obi-Wan blocked his attack and circled away from him. Let Anakin take the offensive and continue to tire himself out, Obi-Wan was in no hurry. They kept circling one another, Anakin making the occasional test strike, but keeping his distance for now.

"Don't hurt yourself," Obi-Wan cautioned.

"I feel fine," Anakin answered. "How are you, old man?"

Obi-Wan smiled at the insolence. "My back was stiff this morning, but it feels much better now. Thank you."

Abruptly, Anakin surged forward and aimed a series of high blows at Obi-Wan's head in a furious attack, but it was a distraction, designed to force Obi-Wan to the side as Anakin slid his foot forward in a move that would have tripped Obi-Wan if he hadn't seen Anakin do it before. He nimbly leapt over Anakin's leg and moved away from him to the other side of the ring.

"Tsk-tsk, fighting dirty," Obi-Wan called out, loud enough to be heard by the crowd. "Where did you learn such tactics?"

Anakin smiled and spread his arms as he made a shallow, mocking bow. "I learned from my master."

"Your master taught you to keep your defenses up," Obi-Wan replied as he moved forward and struck at Anakin's open body. Anakin dodged the wide strike and then parried the next lazily, laughing as he did so.

Anakin started getting showier as they continued, spinning around Obi-Wan and doing unnecessary flourishes. Obi-Wan played along, stretching out the fight to give the audience a good show. They fell into a familiar drill of strikes and blocks that they could have carried on for hours, repeating the same moves several times as they approached and backed away from one another.

Anakin's blocks were growing increasingly sloppy as he fatigued. His sword was beginning to tremble in his hand. Without even meaning to, at their next exchange, Obi-Wan hit the knuckles of his right hand in a glancing strike. The crowd gasped collectively as Anakin cursed and retreated.

Anakin took it well, wiggling his injured fingers and laughing at himself for his mistake. He said something extremely rude in Huttese about Obi-Wan's mother.

"Sun djem," Obi-Wan said in response. It was the term for a lightsaber strike that disarmed one's opponent, either by destroying the weapon or damaging the hand itself.

Anakin acknowledged it with a nod and switched his sword to his left hand. This brought another murmur from the crowd, impressed that he could continue with his non-dominant hand.

Anakin was still a strong fighter even with his left hand, but he was reaching the end of his endurance. After several minutes of circling, Anakin approached to strike. Obi-Wan deflected his blade and brought his own forward in a sweep across Anakin's middle before he could block him. Obi-Wan stopped with his sword held against Anakin's stomach. "Sai tok," he said, the term for a bisecting strike.

"Solah," Anakin answered, accepting defeat. He tossed his sword down and wiped his forearm across his sweaty face. He looked at Obi-Wan as the crowd began to cheer, both of them breathing heavily. A broad smile spread across Obi-Wan's face. He brought his hands together and bowed to him, doing it deliberately this time and not out of simple habit, and Anakin returned it.

Anakin turned to the crowd and waved, acknowledging them as he pushed his messy hair back from his face. Obi-Wan clapped him on the shoulder and both of them gave a short bow to the crowd as they caught their breath.

"Good show," Obi-Wan said, his voice pitched low so only Anakin could hear, and Anakin smiled.

Chapter Text

As Obi-Wan and Anakin climbed down from the sparring ring, the audience began to disperse, drawn away by other demonstrations and performances on the stages nearby. Money exchanged hands as the final bets were called with a few grumbles from the gamblers who had lost.

A handful of spectators stayed by the ring to speak to Anakin and Obi-Wan, full of questions about their techniques and training. Most of the questions were along the lines of: "You're really Jedi?" (yes); "Do you have lightsabers?" (not currently); "Have you ever fought a Sith?" (yes).

One of those waiting was Tor, who Obi-Wan ignored, focusing on the others' questions in hopes he would depart. But Tor waited patiently, listening with interest to their brief conversations with the other stragglers. Eventually, as others departed and made room, they were brought face-to-face with Tor, who smiled with a broad grin at Anakin and said in Basic, "Very impressive, brother."

Anakin looked at him cautiously, not returning his show of friendliness. "You're the one who recognized Ataru," he said. "How did you know?"

"It's my job to know—or it used to be!" Tor replied and let out a loud bark of laughter, throwing his head back with the force of it. It was like a clap of thunder each time he laughed; first, the flash of amusement on his face like lightning and, then, the rolling boom of laughter that shook his body. "I studied Jedi martial arts for decades as part of my duties. I was stationed on the border with a unit that responded to Republic incursions into Mandalorian space."

"Hm." Anakin seemed wary, unsure of what to make of Tor, which was good.

"It was wonderful to see it performed so skillfully," Tor said. "And a rare treat to get to test my skills against a real practitioner."

"You know Obi-Wan?" Anakin asked, glancing back at him as he said it.

"We haven't had the pleasure of meeting until today," Tor replied. "But naturally I've heard of Obi-Wan Kenobi—your father's the highest-level Jedi recruit in decades! A high general, and a Council member no less…"

"I see," Anakin said. "Of course."

"Well, I'd love to stay and talk, but I've got to go find my spouse." Tor raised his hand and pointed behind himself with his thumb. "I told her I'd get us some drinks half an hour ago. She'll be wondering where I got off to. Good to meet you, Anakin," Tor said. "And you too, Obi-Wan."

"Likewise," Obi-Wan answered, managing a smile that hopefully wasn't too strained.

Tor paused to speak to Zena before he left, and while the two of them were saying their goodbyes, Reg leaned over Obi-Wan's shoulder and spoke in a low tone. "He's N.T.?"

"Apparently," Obi-Wan said.

"I'd keep your distance from him," Reg said, watching Tor's back as he left. "Types like that are usually still connected to Security even if they're no longer on active duty."

Obi-Wan let out a huff of laughter, amused by Reg of all people giving him advice on avoiding notice of the Security Agency. "No doubt," he agreed.

The last of the stragglers had dispersed by then, except for a lone figure still standing by the sparring ring, who Anakin motioned to come over. It was the ge'kad boy who had dueled him earlier, the one who had been trying to copy his techniques.

"You're good," Anakin said as the others moved aside and made room for him.

The boy scoffed. "No, I'm not. You could have taken me out whenever you wanted."

"Of course I could. I trained for ten years under Jedi masters," Anakin said, his tone matter-of-fact. "But you have good instincts."

The boy scrunched up his face at that, looking doubtful. He hesitated a moment, before asking, "Could we spar again sometime? And maybe you'd—give me some tips?"

"Sure," Anakin said easily. "Where do you live?"

"Ger'viini," he said, naming a neighborhood in the mid-levels of the city.

"I don't know where that is," Anakin said. "I don't know where anything is." He laughed at his own ignorance and turned to Obi-Wan for assistance.

"That's a short tube ride from our building," Obi-Wan said. "We're in the northwest residential quarter on level 2."

"I could come over whenever," the boy said eagerly. "My classes start at the ninth hour, so I could come before that if you're free in the mornings—"

"I'm always free," Anakin said, glancing at Obi-Wan. "Can I—?"

Obi-Wan shrugged. "As long as it doesn't interfere with your studies, I don't see why not." He was trying not to show how pleased he was with this development, knowing that might make Anakin less inclined to do it. Anakin was isolated now that he was out of the Indoctrination Center. It would be good for him to have a friend closer in age to talk to.

"Can I ask you something?" the boy said, and when Anakin affirmed that he could, he continued, "What were those terms you were using? Solay? And…?"

"Solah, I yield," Anakin translated. "It's from Dai Bendu; temple speech."

"What's that?" the boy asked, intrigued.

"It's—lightsaber training vocabulary," Obi-Wan said. "Sun djem, sai tok; those are terms for the different types of strikes."

"Neat!" the boy enthused.

"I'll teach you all of them if you come to train with me," Anakin promised.

"What did you call it?" Zena asked, joining the conversation. "The language—Dai…?"

"Dai Bendu," Obi-Wan said. "It's the ancient Je'daii language."

"Oh," Zena said and blinked. "I didn't know the Jedi had a language."

"Neither did I," said Reg from behind her. He'd moved closer, suddenly interested in what they were discussing.

"Ah, well, it's not used very much these days," Obi-Wan said. Suddenly this conversation seemed more significant than just a discussion of archaic training vocabulary. "It used to be the common language used in all Temples, back when the Jedi were more scattered around the galaxy. It fell by the wayside after the Order became centered on Coruscant. It's mostly a ceremonial language now."

"Obi-Wan's name is Dai Bendu," Anakin added conversationally.

Obi-Wan shot him a dirty look, and Anakin gave him a wide-eyed, innocent one in response.

"Really?" Zena asked in surprise.

Reg's eyebrows jumped upward with interest. "It is?"

They both sounded much too curious for Obi-Wan's liking.

Anakin, either oblivious to Obi-Wan's discomfort or deliberately ignoring it, nodded and continued, "You know how lots of Jedi have two-part names? Obi-Wan, Qui-Gon, Ki-Adi, Sae-See? Those are Dai Bendu names they got at initiation. Force-given names."

"Huh," Reg said. "I had no idea."

"Do all Jedi have one?" the boy asked.

"Yeah, it's a ceremony when you're a kid," Anakin said. "When you make your first commitment to become a Jedi."

"Everyone gets an initiation name, but not everyone uses it day-to-day," Obi-Wan clarified. "Many don't. But some, like me, decide to use it as their personal name."

"What's Obi-Wan mean then?" Reg asked.

"Steadfast learner," Obi-Wan said. "The wan is the same root word as padawan."

"Is Kenobi part of this Jedi language too?" Zena asked.

"Ah, no, that's my family name. Like a Mandalorian clan name. It doesn't mean anything specific. Or not anything that I'm aware of."

"So what was your real first name then?" Zena asked.

Obi-Wan paused. There were a number of reasons he wouldn't want his birth name to be known on Mandalore… but it would be hard to decline in this situation without calling attention to the fact that it was sensitive information. Better to share the name as if it wasn't significant.

"Bengarand," Obi-Wan said, giving the full version instead of the shortened nickname he sometimes used. He hoped that might make it less likely to be linked back to him.

"Bengarand Kenobi," Reg said, considering it. "Yeah, I see why you went with Obi-Wan."

Zena let out an exasperated laugh. "It's a fine name," she said in a scolding tone.

"What about you?" the boy asked Anakin. "What's your Jedi name?"

Anakin blanched. "Uh, I don't really use—"

"Kai-Dyth," Obi-Wan said, answering for him since turnabout was fair play. "It means disturbing the peace."

Everyone laughed.

"Oh, that's good!" Reg said. "That really fits you."

Anakin rolled his eyes and sighed. "It doesn't mean peace like—it doesn't mean that I'm loud! It means peace in a spiritual sense. It's for a person who shakes up old beliefs—brings new understanding. In a good way!"

Reg made a thoughtful noise, but exchanged an amused look with Obi-Wan.

"I think it's nice," the boy said, clearly feeling bad that he'd inadvertently embarrassed his new friend.

"Thanks," Anakin grumbled.

"How are the names chosen?" the boy asked, steering the conversation in a less fraught direction. "Do Jedi kids pick them themselves?"

"Pretty much," Anakin said, adding after a beat. "The masters come up with the names—I don't actually know how…."

He looked to Obi-Wan for help, who explained, "They're epithets from poetry, mostly, with spiritual meanings. There's a series of ancient Dai Bendu epics that are usually used. Each year, the Masters come up with a list of names based on the chosen poem, and then they're written on wooden sticks. The children draw them after a ritual that's meant to guide their hand to the 'right' name."

Reg wrinkled his nose in disapproval. "So they're chosen by chance?"

Anakin shrugged. "Yeah, but you can keep drawing sticks until you get one that feels right. I pulled five… and I should have kept going…"

"I don't know why you say that," Obi-Wan said. "Kai-Dyth is a beautiful name."

"It wouldn't be so bad if people didn't always make jokes about it," he grumbled. "I wish I'd picked something cool like—like Quinlan, now that's a cool name."

"That one means finisher," Obi-Wan translated for Reg. "Qinl'an, in Dai Bendu."

"Hm, I don't know," Reg said to Anakin. "I think peace-breaker really fits you."

"That's not what it means!" Anakin said, raising his voice in frustration. Reg and Obi-Wan laughed, and he groaned.

After the remaining spectators cleared off, they departed to find Jhoka, who had gone to get something more to eat. Zena and Reg fell into conversation as they walked, and while they were distracted, Obi-Wan took the opportunity to talk to Anakin. "Let's try to stick to… safer topics in the future," he said softly.

"What do you mean?" Anakin asked. "I haven't said anything rude all day."

"I mean we don't need to get into deep discussions of Jedi culture."

"What?" Anakin said indignantly. "I have to learn about being Mandalorian and speak Mando'a all day, but some of them can't spend five minutes learning about the Jedi?"

Obi-Wan took a slow breath. "I'm not saying you can't share, but… be careful…" Out of the corner of his eye, he watched Zena and Reg, who were still in the midst of their conversation. "Especially around… certain people."

Anakin laughed. "You really don't like Reg, do you?"

"It's not that I don't like him," Obi-Wan said, keeping his voice low. "But he's very good at finding things out—things we don't need him to know. Like my birth name that I sometimes use as an alias."

Anakin made a face. "You're being paranoid."

Obi-Wan suppressed the urge to argue that his paranoia was perfectly warranted by the circumstances. Instead, he said, "Humor me."

"Fine, fine, I'll stick to safe topics like weapons or fighting styles."

"That would be great," Obi-Wan said dryly.

They found Jhoka one aisle over from the sparring stages with a sausage on a stick in one hand and a drink in the other. With the group reformed, they spent some time walking up and down the aisles of vendors looking at the wares on display. It was getting late, and the atmospheric lighting in the dome grew gradually dimmer as it shifted into evening mode.

Along the sides of the main "boulevard," a crowd was beginning to gather. Mandalorians were staking out places to stand. They passed several families that had brought foldable chairs or blankets to sit on.

"What are they waiting for?" Anakin asked.

"The parade," Jhoka explained. "It'll be starting soon. And then there will be the fireworks afterward."

"Are we staying for that?" Anakin asked, looking at Obi-Wan.

"It'll be a hassle to get home with the crowd…" Obi-Wan started to say.

"But Anakin has never seen the fireworks before," Jhoka pointed out.

"But they aren't real fireworks," Reg said. "It's just a light show."

"I like a light show," Anakin said.

Obi-Wan doubted their guard detail would want to deal with the complications of post-fireworks crowds. He looked at Zena for confirmation of this, but instead she said, "We can stay. Our detail has a speeder we can take so we don't have to ride the tube back."

"Nice," Anakin said.

"Is there room in that speeder for Jhoka and me?" Reg asked.

"No," Zena said, giving him a sweet smile, and Reg laughed in response.

They found a place to stand, chatting amiably as other spectators lined up to wait beside them. Eventually, drumming and music began in the distance, signaling the start of the parade.

The first group that came marching up the avenue was a quartet of horn players in uniform. They were playing a marching song that Obi-Wan was unfamiliar with, and were followed by a larger group of percussionists playing drums. Behind them came a number of Sundari officials flanked by an honor guard of city police. Next to each official was a young person carrying a banner that indicated who they were and the office they held.

After the city officials came a series of civic organizations, each carrying a banner to identify themselves. Most of these groups threw candy, which made them popular with the children watching.

"Exciting stuff," Anakin said to Obi-Wan in a sarcastic undertone.

"You were the one who wanted to stay," Obi-Wan pointed out.

The parade continued up the aisle and then took a left turn onto the next main "street." From there, they would proceed to the front of the plaza and end facing the Mandalore's palace.

A large marching band came next, playing a patriotic Mandalorian song. Their banners indicated that they were associated with the city's local military battalion. The crowd cheered and clapped along in time with the song. Some of the more enthusiastic members of the audience even sang along.

Behind the marching band came the large, hulking bodies of the mun'videke, now decked out in parade finery. Each beast wore a harness on its head that gave it the long, tapered horns of a mythosaur. They wore armor that matched the armor of their riders and was decorated in a flurry of tassels and fringe. The creatures walked with slow, heavy steps, shaking the fringe with each thudding tread. The costumes were surprisingly effective. It was easy to imagine they really were witnessing the return of the mythosaur to Mandalore, albeit on a much smaller scale than the fabled beasts of the ancient past. Even the largest of the mun'videke was only half the size of the creatures described in history and legend.

The largest mun'videk was around three times the height of the average human. A large percentage of that height was neck, but it was still a very impressive creature. The spectators around them oohed and aahed as the huge beast marched past. A child nearby pointed up and said, "Myt'ssaur," while their parent smiled and nodded.

Suddenly, a rapid series of bangs rang out, causing Obi-Wan to jump and startling surprised screams from the crowd. Many of the spectators squatted down for cover, shouting in confusion and fear. As the rapid-fire bursts continued, Obi-Wan searched for the source, which seemed to be across the aisle from him on the other side of the marching mun'videke.

Obi-Wan saw blue smoke rising and breathed a sign of relief. It was another of those long strings of fireworks that spun in a circle as the fuse burned down, going off one after another.

"Firecrackers again," Obi-Wan said. He pointed between the legs of the largest mun'videk, to where the offending device whirled about like an angry snake, snapping and turning as it released a noxious stream of blue smoke.

"Yeesh," Reg said. "Bad idea to do that around the animals."

Sure enough, the great beast started to rear back, its eyes rolling in panic at the noise and smoke. The other mun'videke backed away, causing the crowd to push back as well. The rider atop the large mun'videk let out a shout as the beast stood up fully on its hind legs, rearing back so far that it unseated them. The rider fell backward and slammed into the ground with a cry of pain. The other riders were pulling on their reins and hushing their mounts, trying to calm them as they too began to rear. With each movement of the mun'videke, the crowd cried out in alarm and pushed further away. They formed a wall of panicked bodies as the huge beasts bumbled closer.

Obi-Wan's skin prickled as a wash of fear passed over him that had nothing to do with the mun'videke. The noise, panicked animals, the shifting crowds—this was the perfect opportunity for Anakin. Obi-Wan turned, cursing himself as he looked to his left and right, but, of course, Anakin was gone.

"Did you see where he went?" he called out.

"Who?" Jhoka asked in confusion.

"Anakin!"

Obi-Wan turned in a circle, searching through the surrounding crowd. Everyone else still had their eyes rapt on the mun'videke and Anakin was nowhere to be seen.

Zena was gone as well.

Obi-Wan began to shoulder his way through the crowd searching for Anakin. It was difficult to move; everyone had pressed together, the crowd turning into a sentient wall that Obi-Wan had to push his way through.

Where would Anakin go? How would he make his escape? He would need a vehicle, which would mean leaving the plaza and finding a street where there would be speeders and bikes.

There was a roaring sound from above, and Obi-Wan looked over the heads of the crowd to see two Mandalorians with jetpacks flying past. He recognized their armor—they were part of the guard detail! Had they spotted Anakin?

Obi-Wan did his best to follow the guards' movements through the air, following them back toward the central aisle where the parade had been advancing. The neat line of the procession had broken, and now clumps of riders and musicians stood in small groups amidst the confused crowd.

The riders were all attempting to calm their mounts. One of them, the largest mun'videk that had first panicked, was still making frightened moans, disquieting the other creatures and spooking the crowd each time it called out.

Obi-Wan spotted another familiar suit of armor ahead of him—red and black, Zena!—and pushed his way forward until he reached the front of the crowd and finally broke free.

"Ze—" Obi-Wan broke off when he saw the figure standing beside her, startled and relieved all at once. "Anakin!"

Anakin turned toward him and said, "Oh, there you are," as if Obi-Wan was the one who had disappeared without warning.

"Where—what happened?" Obi-Wan asked.

"Stupid kids again playing around," Zena said with a roll of her eyes. "Lucky no one got trampled."

"Ah, indeed," Obi-Wan said. He still felt jittery and anxious. His heart was beating too fast in his chest, but he tried to hide it.

The parade ended up being called off due to the chaos. The three of them stayed to help with crowd control while the riders returned the mun'videke to the stables. There were a lot of people who had gotten separated from friends and family members who needed assistance to be reunited, as well as an assortment of minor injuries that needed treating, mainly from people who had fallen in the panicked rush of the crowd.

Reg and Jhoka, who had gotten separated themselves, eventually found them again and their small group reunited.

"So…" Reg said. "Still up for the light show?"

"No," Zena said flatly, while Jhoka shook his head vehemently.

"I think we've had enough excitement for one day," Obi-Wan said, to which even Anakin agreed.

As promised, Zena gave Obi-Wan and Anakin a ride home along with the guard patrol, leaving Reg and Jhoka to make their way back on their own.

When they arrived at their building, Zena got out with them and pulled Obi-Wan aside in the lobby.

"You go on up, recruit," she said to Anakin. "I need to talk to your father."

"What?" Anakin asked, suspicious. "What about?"

"Go on up," Zena ordered, not answering his question, and pointing Anakin toward the lift. He made an annoyed noise, but obeyed.

"What is it?" Obi-Wan asked after the door to the lift had closed.

"You didn't see what happened, did you?" Zena asked. She was in a good mood, as if she was excited to show Obi-Wan something.

"What do you mean?"

Zena hit a button on her vambrace and brought up a holorecording. A tiny blue image of Anakin appeared standing in the parade crowd next to Obi-Wan and the others. There was a popping noise—the firecracker going off—and everyone around him reacted with alarm. Anakin startled himself, but quickly recovered, his eyes darting around as he realized the opportunity this moment presented. He ducked down, acting as if he was taking cover, and began backing away through the crowd, allowing the mob's panicked movements to disguise his escape.

"Oh, Anakin." Obi-Wan sighed, not at all surprised. It was in Anakin's nature to take every unexpected opportunity he was presented with for reckless action. Anakin's impulses often served him well on missions and in combat situations, but they also tended to get him into a great deal of trouble. Obi-Wan only wished this moment hadn't been recorded. This would no doubt set back Anakin's Indoctrination a good deal.

Seeing his disappointment, Zena said, "Keep watching."

The holo followed Anakin as he darted through the panicking crowd. Sometimes he disappeared from sight, but then shortly the recording picked him up again. One of the guards with a jetpack must have been tracking him from the air the entire time.

Anakin hit a snarl of people, a tightly packed group he couldn't get past, and paused as he looked around and assessed exit routes. Something seemed to catch his eye behind him, and he half-turned to look at it.

The moment stretched, and Anakin hesitated, rocking forward onto his toes to look at something over the heads of the crowd. He seemed to be weighing two options, turning his head one way and then another repeatedly. A look of frustration crossed his face only to be replaced with a familiar flash of decisiveness. He darted forward, his choice made.

The holo flickered, losing Anakin again, before finding him out in the open, away from the confused throng. He had both of his hands raised in a pacifying gesture, his palms facing out in front of him as he walked forward. He was moving slowly and seemed to be saying something, but the holorecorder hadn't picked up the words. As he moved, Anakin passed a crumpled body in armor on the ground—the mun'videk rider, stunned from being thrown off—and Obi-Wan realized that Anakin was approaching the huge, panicked beast as it reared.

The mun'videk came into focus on the holo as Anakin continued walking forward with slow steps. The creature's sides heaved with the strength of its panting, and its eyes darting around as it searched for new threats. Anakin closed his eyes as he concentrated on reaching the mun'videk through the Force. He kept moving, one step at a time, his hands out, until he was touching the rough hide of the creature itself. The mun'videk groaned and half-startled nervously, but allowed Anakin to take its reins as he gentled it. Gradually, under Anakin's influence, it began to calm. Its harsh breathing slowed, and it lowered its head. Anakin patted the creature's neck and spoke to it as it let out a low moan.

A moment later, the unseated rider reappeared in the holo, back on their feet and coming to take the reins from Anakin. Other handlers rushed forward and helped to corral the beast while Anakin stepped aside. In the heat of the moment, no one seemed to recognize that the mun'videk had not calmed down on its own, but rather under Anakin's influence.

Zena switched off the holo. She had a rather smug look on her face, as if she felt she had proven something to Obi-Wan. "See?"

Obi-Wan hesitated, unsure what she wanted from him. "I… didn't realize he went to help. Thank you for showing me."

"It's more than that," Zena said, a touch irritated. "He could have kept going, kept searching for a way out of the fairgrounds, but he chose not to."

"I… suppose so," Obi-Wan said.

"It's like I told you—trust starts with opportunity," Zena insisted. "He had the opportunity, but he didn't take it. He made the choice not to take it."

Obi-Wan was unsure if this incident showed what Zena seemed to be taking from it—Anakin had known he was being tracked; he would have realized that this was a poor opportunity for escape even if he was tempted to try—but he voiced none of it.

"Of course, you were right," Obi-Wan agreed. "I need to trust him to make the right choices." Whatever reasons Anakin might have for making those choices, and whatever definition of 'right' made sense at the time.

Zena nodded, pleased Obi-Wan had understood, and dismissed him. "Have a good night, Obi-Wan."

"Thank you, I will."

Chapter Text

In the weeks after the spring festival, they spent most of their time at home. Zena limited their excursions to the occasional, short shopping trip for necessities. Anakin was cooperative and subdued. Whatever internal bargain he had made with himself was holding, and he showed a reasonable acceptance of the situation. He didn't argue much with Obi-Wan, although most of their conversations were shallow, surface-level things, not delving into the deep waters below.

Anakin made good progress on his coursework and Mando'a lessons. Obi-Wan judged that he was probably already at the level that was considered "fluent" for recruit purposes: he could understand most everything that was said to him, and he could make himself understood in turn. His language was often clumsy and awkward, and he struggled to comprehend fast speech or unfamiliar accents, but that would improve with time and practice.

Obi-Wan was called in once to the Mand'alor's office for a meeting with Bo-Katan and Fett. It turned out to be a consultation of sorts. Obi-Wan remained one of Mandalore's best experts on the Sith, even if he was not on active duty at the moment.

When Obi-Wan arrived, Bo-Katan was seated behind her desk, and Fett next to her. There was a chair for Obi-Wan on the other side of the desk. The hierarchy was clear—he was here to be informed and offer his opinion, not to be brought into the investigation fully.

Jango Fett, it appeared, did not see much value in consulting with Obi-Wan and updated him on the progress of the investigation in a stiff, irritated manner. He kept his remarks short, and Bo-Katan had to keep prompting him to share more information. The sum of what they had found was: not much. The Sith recruits had revealed little under interrogation, probably because they knew very little. They were no doubt expendable cannon fodder who had been sent on this mission to infiltrate Mandalore without any expectation of return.

"That's what I would expect," Obi-Wan said after Fett had finished his reluctant briefing. "It's unlikely you'll get any additional information out of them. The Sith treat operational security like it's a sacred tenet of their religion. You'll need to find the handler who was communicating with them to learn anything useful."

"It does seem that way," Bo-Katan agreed.

"I take it you haven't been able to trace the signal they were using?"

Fett glanced at Bo-Katan, who gave a slight shake of her head. "We won't be discussing that."

"Well, what about…" Obi-Wan paused, casting about for something he could ask that might not be kept back. "Have you identified anyone in Sundari who recently disappeared or left abruptly without explanation?"

"We are watching for such signs," Fett said, after another check with Bo-Katan. "But we haven't identified any suspects yet. The handler is most likely staying put for now."

"That's assuming it's someone within the Center or otherwise embedded inside Mandalore," Obi-Wan said. "If there was a secret listening post somewhere, they could have packed up and left after the spies were discovered and we'd be none the wiser."

Fett shook his head in disagreement. "No, if the handler evacuated, it would have been on board a legal transport and we'd have a record of it. There haven't been any unregistered ships that could have taken them."

"That you know of," Obi-Wan pointed out.

"No, it's impossible," Fett said. "Even if they had a cloaked ship that got past planetary control, we would be able to see evidence of it after the fact in the atmospheric logs. There was no ship. The handler is either still on Mandalore, or they booked a ticket on a registered passenger transport, and we'll eventually be able to piece together who they were."

Obi-Wan made a doubtful noise. He had much less confidence in Mandalore's planetary security than Fett did. Even the best systems had weak points that could be exploited. He'd been on many missions for the Jedi Council where he had landed on "impenetrable" planets without anyone being the wiser. "I hope you're right."

"There's one additional piece of information," Bo-Katan said, and motioned to Fett to continue. "The alias. Ask about that."

Fett grunted and shifted in his seat with a constipated expression. "The Sith recruits referred to their handler by an alias, 'the Lady,'" he said, using the Basic term.

Obi-Wan frowned. "There are a lot of Sith 'ladies' it could be."

"Such as…?" Bo-Katan prompted him.

"Well… I know you don't think this was a targeted attack against Anakin, but if it was, then it could be a Sith assassin he's tangled with in the past named Ventress."

Bo-Katan nodded while Fett made a note on his datascreen.

"But, if it was Ventress, it's unlikely she'd be living undercover as a Mandalorian. She's a Dathomirian Zabrak with Nightsister facial tattoos. She's too easily identifiable."

"Anyone else?" Bo-Katan asked as Fett jotted down notes.

Obi-Wan thought for a moment, and then named a few other female Sith who were involved in intelligence operations. It was a highly speculative list, but better than nothing, he supposed.

"What about the re-investigations of former Sith recruits who completed the program?" Obi-Wan asked. "Have you identified any other spies?"

Fett hesitated before saying simply, "Re-investigations are continuing apace."

Obi-Wan waited a moment to see if he would add anything, then asked, "And…? Have you identified anyone suspicious?"

"It is too early at this stage to make preliminary reports."

Obi-Wan snorted. "So no, then."

"These things take time," Fett replied, affronted. "We're moving carefully."

"Naturally," Obi-Wan agreed. "You know I could have valuable insight into if someone is still loyal to the Sith or not."

"Perhaps," Fett allowed.

Obi-Wan huffed in frustration. "Will I get to hear about the results when you're done in three to five years?"

Fett's eyes narrowed and the muscles of his cheeks flexed like he was grinding his teeth. "If you're cleared for that."

"How will I know if I'm cleared—"

"You'll know if you hear anything—"

Bo-Katan raised her hand and cut them both off, looking amused at their sparring. "You'll be updated if there is anything of significant that warrants your consultation, Obi-Wan. Thank you for your assistance. I appreciate your expertise on these matters."

Obi-Wan knew a dismissal when he heard one, and he stood to take his leave. "Thank you, Mand'alor," he said, nodding to her respectfully before adding a curt "Fett" before he walked out.

The next morning, he and Anakin did their usual meditation practice before heading downstairs. Anakin went straight to the exercise room, as had become his habit, while Obi-Wan went to the cafeteria for breakfast. While he was waiting in line for caf, a familiar, dark-haired figure in red and black armor joined him.

"Good morning, Zena," he said, adding jokingly, "here for a lesson from Anakin?"

She smiled as she took off her helmet. "Just to observe."

They reached the front of the line, and they both got a cup of caf from the carafe. Obi-Wan, who took his black, waited while Zena added cream and sweetener. He observed that she liked a lot of sweetener in her caf—much too much for Obi-Wan's taste.

They walked together down the hall to the exercise room where Anakin had been holding his morning lessons in lightsaber fighting techniques. When they entered, they found Anakin leading a practice drill with Petir Goran, the ge'kad boy from the fair, and three other boys around Petir's age. The room was large and long, running the entire length of the rear of the building. One half was dedicated to weights and other exercise equipment, while the second half was left empty except for a stack of cushioned sparring mats. Three of the mats were laid out in a circle around Anakin, who stood in the center and watched as they practiced.

Petir had been coming every morning since he and Anakin had met at the spring festival. Anakin would run him through drills of basic lightsaber forms and, when there was time, they'd practice sparring with wooden swords. Other students had soon started to tag along with Petir to the lessons, his classmates and fellow ge'kad practitioners. They came out of curiosity mostly, eager to meet a Jedi and learn the exotic art of lightsaber combat. None of the others were as dedicated as Petir was, but an informal group of boys was beginning to develop that showed up on a regular basis.

Petir had improved a great deal already, quickly taking to the style. He had a natural talent, but Anakin was also an able teacher. Back at the Temple, he had often been invited to be a guest instructor for lightsaber classes with the younglings.

Anakin had been a prodigy himself as a child, quickly mastering the art and surpassing all but the most expert duelists, which had earned him envy and resentment from his peers. His fellow padawans had been training since they could walk; it was deeply embarrassing to lose sparring matches to this newcomer who hadn't even seen a lightsaber until he was nine years old. Younglings, on the other hand, had no reason to resent his skill, and they looked up to Anakin with awe and adoration. Anakin basked in their hero-worship, and it brought out an indulgent side of him that Obi-Wan rarely saw during his teenage years. Outside of the classroom, Anakin could be dismissive and impatient when others couldn't keep up with him, but as an instructor, he was kind and diligent, giving gentle correction and guidance to his charges.

Today, they were working on Form III. Obi-Wan and Zena watched the lesson as they drank their caf, listening as Anakin went over the finer points of blocking. The students were focused and attentive, listening with interest and doing their best to copy his movements. It could have been a class in the Jedi Temple on Coruscant, except that these boys were dressed in military-style Mandalorian school uniforms instead of Jedi robes. The other difference was that the lesson was, mostly, given in Mando'a instead of Basic. Obi-Wan suspected that Anakin's accent and imperfect Mando'a was part of the appeal for his students; it added to the overall mystique and impression of exotic, foreign knowledge.

"At this rate, he might actually be on track to take the assessment at the same time as the rest of his cohort," Zena observed.

Obi-Wan made a noise of agreement, then glanced sideways at her in surprise. "Really? Could he take it then?" The assessment was a language competency course that all recruits had to pass before they could swear the Resol'nare. It was a requirement for "graduation" from the Indoctrination Center.

"If he's ready," Zena said simply. "Will he be ready for the second part?"

The second part of the assessment was essentially a citizenship test. Anakin had not been especially invested in his history and civics lessons… still, it was not the most rigorous exam, and he would probably be fine as long as they did some intensive study sessions before he took it. "I'll make sure he is."

"Good."

"You met with Fett, didn't you?" Zena asked.

Obi-Wan glanced at her, mildly surprised, but then he supposed he shouldn't be. Zena must be involved in the investigation herself. "I did."

She nodded, then looked rueful. "We haven't made much progress…"

"No?" Obi-Wan took a sip of his caf. He wondered if he could get more information from Zena than he had from Fett. She was already being more open about this than she should be. "I take it the Sith recruits haven't been very forthcoming?"

"They don't know much, or haven't revealed much, but either way it's the same outcome—dead end."

"Hm… and there's been no luck tracing the source of the communicator or the signal they were using?"

Zena shook her head. "The communicator itself was repurposed parts from within the Center, generic, nothing traceable to a specific person, and the signal was short range with basic encryption, nothing distinctive."

"So you know they had some kind of on-planet handler, but nothing whatsoever about them?" Obi-Wan clarified.

"Essentially."

So there really wasn't anything else about the investigation that Fett was holding back, aside from his own lack of results. That was disappointing. "Do you think it's someone in the Indoctrination Center?"

"There's no clear evidence of that…"

"I'm not asking based on the evidence," Obi-Wan said, pushing her. "What's your theory? Your gut instinct?"

Zena looked at him out of the corner of her eye. "Well, it would make the most sense if it was someone on the inside…"

Obi-Wan nodded. "But you can't pin it on anyone specific."

"There are some suspects… but nothing definitive, no," she agreed. "It's a waiting game now… waiting for them to make a mistake and reveal themselves."

Obi-Wan nodded. "I hope it's sooner rather than later…"

"Me too."

While they had been talking, the boys had completed their last drill. "Okay, good, gather 'round," Anakin said, motioning for them to come stand next to him on the same mat.

"Are we going to spar now?" one of the boys, a newcomer, asked with a whine.

"When we're ready, then we'll spar," Anakin said.

"We always do a mind exercise first," Petir explained. "So we're in the right mental state to compete."

Anakin nodded with a slight smile at him. "Everyone, close your eyes, and take three deep breaths with me…"

The meditation was an adapted version of an exercise that was often used by Jedi to assess their own bodies and emotions prior to physical activity. Anakin had shortened it and secularized it, removing any references to the Force, so it was mainly about noting where they were holding tension and releasing it. Theoretically, the content wasn't anything that an Indoctrinator would disapprove of, but Obi-Wan felt a twinge of discomfort listening to it with Zena beside him.

He raised his mug, showing her it was empty, and asked, "Do you want to go get a refill?"

"In a minute," she said, not looking at him.

Obi-Wan cleared his throat and resisted the urge to shift his feet in discomfort.

"As you breathe, thoughts may come to you," Anakin was saying. "Thoughts about the past. Thoughts about the future. What you do later. If you win, if you lose. Notice the thought, then return to now. Feel the floor. The mat under your feet. Feel the air: is it cold? Is it hot?"

The final part of the meditation involved visualizing distracting thoughts and feelings as a thick smoke that filled the lungs.

"As your chest expands, the thoughts expand as well, filling your chest with smoke. Then, as you exhale, you blow those thoughts out with the air in your lungs. The smoke blows out of your mouth and nose, exiting your body. The tension you were holding goes with it, leaving your muscles loose and relaxed. As the smoke clears, it dissipates into the air and fades away. Your chest is left empty, and your head clear. Later, if you find yourself distracted, worried about outcomes, you can do this again. Return to the moment, take a deep breath, filling your lungs, and then blow out the distraction when you exhale."

Anakin ended the exercise with several minutes of silent meditation. Most of the boys were still and focused, but one of them, the newcomer who had asked about sparring, was twitching with impatience. Barely two minutes had passed before he opened his eyes and let out a sigh of frustration.

"What's with all this standing around?" he asked. "I thought we were learning to fight?"

"Shhh," Petir hissed, his eyes still closed. "We are learning, Olan. We're getting in the right mindset."

"But it's stupid," Olan insisted. "Who can be in a fight and not care about the outcome? Everyone wants to win."

Anakin opened his eyes and raised his eyebrows at that. "Do they?" he asked.

Obi-Wan suppressed a smile. It was amusing seeing Anakin use the same teaching techniques that Obi-Wan had used on him, turning questions around and probing his students on their assumptions.

"Of course they do!" Olan said. The other boys all had their eyes open now, much more interested in watching the argument than in continuing to meditate. "In real combat, there's always an objective you're trying to achieve!"

"And if you're worrying about the outcome," Petir said. "Then you won't be able to focus and you'll lose. That's the point. Not to think ahead, but to react in the moment."

"If you're not planning ahead, how are you supposed to strategize?" Olan responded stubbornly. "Are Jedi totally unthinking and mindless when they fight?"

"It's not mindless, you don't get it—"

"Because it's stupid—"

"Guys," Anakin said, stopping their fight with a word. "It's okay," he said to Petir. "Let him talk. It's good to have questions." To Olan he said, "I agree, actually. I think it's natural to want to win in a fight."

Olan puffed up, looking a little surprised, but pleased by the validation. "Yeah," he said. "Being competitive is good. You can't win if you don't care."

Anakin made a thoughtful noise. "So you always have to be competitive to win?"

"No!" Petir said, while the other boy said "yes!"

"You disagree, Petir?" Anakin asked.

"Yes!" Petir said. "If you're too competitive, then losing makes you upset, it throws you off."

"Yeah," another boy agreed. "If you mess up, then you get mad. It stresses you out and distracts you."

Olan huffed. "Not always!"

"Yeah, it does!" Petir said. "That happens to you all the time. You're always getting pissed off for no reason—"

"No, I'm not!"

"Yes, you are! You're doing it right now!"

"No, I'm not!"

Anakin disguised a laugh as a cough, then interrupted the argument by asking, "What kinds of emotions are unhelpful?"

"Nerves," Petir said immediately.

"Doubt," another boy piped up.

"Anger," said another. "Like when you're so mad you can't think straight."

Anakin nodded. "And could those also be helpful?"

"Yeah," Olan said. "Those can all be good; fear makes you cautious, anger gives you motivation."

"But not if you have too much of them!" Petir said.

"Not if you're in control of your emotions," Olan argued. "You need to not let them mess you up, not get rid of them entirely."

"So what you're saying is that we should work on managing our emotions?" Anakin clarified, and Olan nodded.

"That makes sense to me," Anakin said. "Do you all agree?"

Petir and most of the other boys nodded.

"Good," Anakin said. "I think that's right. When we practice, we're training our minds as well as our bodies. How you feel mentally when you go into a fight is as important as your physical condition. That's why I'm teaching you to assess how you're feeling and let go of the things that aren't helping you. I want you to be able to focus on the reality of a fight instead of what's in your head. Does that make sense?"

"It does!" Petir said, eager to agree with Anakin.

"I guess," Olan allowed.

"Can we just finish the stupid meditation already so we can spar?" another boy asked in exasperation. "I have to leave for class soon!"

"Okay, okay," Anakin said, waving his hands. "That's enough for now. Let's take three deep breaths together to finish…"

Obi-Wan glanced at Zena again, trying to assess how she had taken all of this without being too obvious about it.

She noticed him watching her and smiled very slightly. "He's a good teacher."

"He is," Obi-Wan agreed with relief.