Chapter Text
Obi-Wan was exhausted, but he forced his feet to keep moving, kicking up sand and dust all around him. He didn’t even really understand what he was doing here, he only knew that the Force had willed it. Or at least, that was what he chose to believe. Because if it was truly just an act of poor luck that had landed him on Tatooine, then it was much harder to believe that he would ever be able to leave again.
As he shuffled ever forward, the sand covered his entire body, getting tangled in his hair and rubbing against the peach fuzz on his face (which Satine had teased and said would never grow into a real beard). It felt like he’d been pushing against the sandstorm for years before he finally heard something, some sign that he was not going to die alone out in the desert just because of a broken navigation system that had landed him down in the middle of nowhere rather than near any of the major cities’ landing ports.
He tried to move in the direction of the noise, though with the wind and sand whipping everywhere around him, it was difficult to figure out exactly which direction that was. Obi-Wan stopped and closed his eyes, taking a deep breath to try and center himself, then immediately regretting it as he inhaled a full breath of sand.
Obi-Wan dropped to his knees as he coughed and spat, but when he opened his mouth, it only let more sand fly in, the gritty texture impossible to remove from the back of his tongue. Why would anyone want to live here?
The Force did not warn him that anyone was approaching, so he was taken by surprise when he suddenly felt a hand on his shoulder. He leapt back and looked around wildly. There was a woman standing there, and her presence in the Force was warm and kind. Her face was lined with wrinkles, but they seemed to come from stress and hard life rather than age, though it was hard to say for sure when the entire lower half of her face had a cloth tightly wrapped around it. “Come with me!” she shouted over the sound of the wind.
With no better options, Obi-Wan nodded and followed, since he did not detect any bad intentions coming from her. He applauded her ability to make her way through the storm and actually reach her destination, which was a little metal hut. They entered a little antechamber, and as soon as the outer door was closed, it felt like everything was suddenly too silent, despite the grains of sand still noisily pelting against the outside walls. Even though the door had been closed right behind them, the storm had still gotten a lot of sand inside in that short amount of time.
The woman shed her protective outer clothing and hung it up on some hooks on the wall, gesturing for Obi-Wan to do the same. He stripped out of his outer robes, which looked far too raggedy at this point to evoke the image of a Jedi, and then the woman pulled Obi-Wan over to a very wide sonic shower. They got in together, with plenty of room between them, and most of the loose sand was blasted off of them, though it left Obi-Wan feeling no cleaner.
The other side of the sonic opened up to another small room with some stairs that led to the rest of the house. Like many homes on Tatooine, the majority of the structure was located underground, where it was ever so slightly cooler. “Thank you,” Obi-Wan said, finally recalling his manners.
The woman nodded once. “Staying out in that storm would have been your death,” she told him bluntly. She hesitated for a moment, looking at his hair which had been cleaned enough by the sonic for the coppery color to shine through, and at his pale skin that had clearly not seen many days under the harsh Tatooine suns. “You’re lucky I found you.”
“If you don’t mind me asking, why were you out there?”
She shrugged one shoulder. “The baby wouldn’t stop crying.” She didn’t explain any further than that, and Obi-Wan didn’t press for more. Perhaps it was as simple as wanting a break from the noise, though he certainly couldn’t hear any crying at the moment. “I’m Wratja.”
She gave him a pointed look, and Obi-Wan quickly introduced himself. “Obi-Wan.” Perhaps he should have used a fake name, but right now, the Force felt strangely content, and if nothing else, he trusted that. “Again, thank you very much for your hospitality.”
Wratja gave him a strange look, then just nodded and turned to lead him into a small side room. There was a cradle in the middle of the room, and she gently scooped up the baby inside. Obi-Wan tried not to be too intrusive, but he couldn’t help taking a peek, and he saw chubby cheeks and bright blue eyes, along with a tuft of blonde hair sticking up from their head. “This is Anakin.”
“Hello, Anakin,” he said softly. Obi-Wan didn’t quite understand why, but he suddenly felt as though everything he’d been through in his life was leading up to this very moment, to this meeting with some random infant on a planet that he had never intended on visiting.
Wratja narrowed her eyes, and looked to be deeply contemplating something before she sighed and bowed her head slightly. “You’re not from here,” she said, not bothering to make it sound like a question. The combination of his looks and his Coruscanti accent were probably enough of a giveaway. “Do you have a way off the planet?”
Obi-Wan frowned. “My ship took some damage before landing, but with a few spare parts, I should be able to fix it up enough to break atmo.”
The woman nodded once, and then suddenly all but shoved her precious little bundle at Obi-Wan. “He was born to a slave mother, and would be a slave himself. Given the choice, she would prefer for her son to be free, even if that means never being able to see him again. So I helped her, as I have helped other mothers in the past. As far as her master is concerned, the babe didn’t survive the birth, so he was never given a chip. My usual pilot has gotten caught up in some troubles and will not be back on Tatooine for too long to risk.”
Obi-Wan blinked, surprised that this woman would trust a complete stranger with this information when it could get her in so much trouble to share with the wrong person. “Of course I’d be happy to give you a ride,” he assured her, since he could only assume that that was why she had brought any of this up to him.
The Jedi did not get involved with the problem of slavery on the Outer Rim. Even the illegal slave trade in the Mid Rim and Core often went unaddressed. It had always seemed like an injustice to Obi-Wan, though perhaps he would not feel as strongly about it had he not had his experience on Bandomeer. But even then, he did not think about what the Jedi would do, or whether the Senate would improve. What mattered was that there was an innocent life that could be saved. He felt in his heart that it was what his master- former master, he reminded himself- would do.
But Wratja shook her head, and Obi-Wan was confused as she told him, “Just Anakin.” When he furrowed his eyebrows, she sighed. “I am needed here, to make sure that more children are able to get out. If you are willing, at the risk of getting into trouble with the Hutts, then I would ask this of you.”
“You would trust a stranger so easily?”
“It isn’t easy at all,” she told him wryly. “But easier than trusting anyone from this poodoo hole. But the trust is not infinite. I will not give you the coordinates of his final destination, but instead a safe place that my pilot can meet you at once he’s resolved his troubles. You would need to care for the child until then.” Her eyes softened as she looked at Obi-Wan, who was carefully cradling Anakin against his chest. “I can see that you’re hardly more than a child yourself, but I do not have any other options.”
Obi-Wan bit back a childish retort and instead calmly told her, “I’m sixteen standard. That’s the age of majority on many Outer Rim planets.”
“Not on Coruscant,” she pointed out, though she was not trying to argue with him.
In the end, it wasn’t as though Obi-Wan had anywhere he needed to go. He could not return to the Temple, and he could not retreat to Mandalore. He was no longer a Jedi, and he had no place in this galaxy. If the last useful thing he could do was to protect this one child, then he would do everything in his power to do so. “I will help you,” he vowed.
Wratja nodded, taking him at his word. “It feels like the boy has cried nonstop since the moment he came into this world, but he seems content now. He must know that you will do as you’ve promised.” She turned to rummage through a drawer, then held out a necklace with a piece of carved wood hanging from it. “A snippet from the Japor tree. His mother made it for him.” Obi-Wan took it, handing the baby back in exchange.
The rest of the night was spent with Wratja making sure that Obi-Wan knew everything he needed in order to properly take care of an infant. He’d spent a lot of time volunteering in the creche, so he had good foundations, but the children there were rarely newborns; most were usually at least a year or two old before being taken to the Temple.
By morning, the storm had died down, and Wratja ordered Obi-Wan to stay and watch over Anakin while she drove to the nearest town to get the parts that Obi-Wan listed out he’d need. “I don’t have any money,” he told her worriedly.
Wratja’s eyes creased with tension, but she brushed aside the concern. “I will manage.”
She was gone for the better part of three days, giving Obi-Wan plenty of time to get used to taking care of Anakin. Really, he was just lucky that Anakin was such an easy baby, generally only getting fussy if he went too long without being held or fed.
When Wratja returned, she was in a hurry. “The parts are hot, the sooner you get out of here, the better off everyone will be.”
Obi-Wan just nodded. Once, he might have argued that they should find a way to go back and pay for everything, but he was less naive now. Anakin and his few belongings were packed up, as well as enough formula to last the trip to the coordinates Wratja still hadn’t given him yet, and the three of them drove to where Obi-Wan had landed his ship.
In the light of day, without sand everywhere in the air, the landing looked much less impressive, half of the front buried in sand. Since Wratja was trusting Obi-Wan with something so important, he figured that it was only fair that he trust her in return, and he did not hide his use of the Force to remove all of the sand.
She jerked her head to look at him with wide eyes. “Jedi… We have not seen one of you out here in so long.”
Obi-Wan shook his head. “I’m not a Jedi,” not anymore.
Whether she believed him or not, Wratja just let out a grunt, and then helped him get to work making repairs. The damage wasn’t actually as bad as Obi-Wan had feared, and they were done before the suns finished setting. Obi-Wan ducked out of the ship to ‘check over’ the exterior thruster casings as an excuse to give Wratja some privacy to say goodbye to Anakin. Obi-Wan could only hope that Anakin’s mother had been given the same chance.
With nothing else to take care of, Wratja finally handed over the coordinates to the safe place she’d mentioned. “It may be a month or two before my pilot can meet up with you, and we won’t be able to contact you before that, but there will be enough resources stocked up to last that long. Will you wait?”
Obi-Wan nodded. “I promise.” Then he got back into the ship, made sure that Anakin and his carrier were securely strapped into place, and he took off. Anakin babbled happily at the sight of the stars rushing by once they entered hyperspace, and Obi-Wan could feel the boy’s joy and curiosity through the Force, and Obi-Wan felt happy to be able to do something uncomplicatedly right, for once.
,,,
Jango was woken up by the sound of a sharp alarm, and he immediately went on guard as the events of the past few days flooded back into his mind. The jetii had massacred his people, and Jango had been drugged and dragged off by these honorless cowards. Now he found himself in a large cell with a cement floor and thick durasteel walls.
He quickly took an assessment of himself to figure out what he had to work with. His beskar’gam had been taken away, along with all of his weapons, plus his boots. When he listened carefully, he couldn’t hear the consistent humming of an engine, which meant that they were planetside somewhere. The cell he was in was very dimly lit, so he had to squint to make out the details. Other than a bucket in the corner, there was nothing at all in the cell, let alone anything that could potentially be used in an escape.
And Jango knew that he did have to escape. As much as it made his heart ache to think about, he could not rely on a rescue, not when he had no clue how many of his people might have survived Galidraan, if any had.
He wasn’t sure how long he’d been unconscious, or how long he had to wait until something actually happened. There was a loud banging on the cell door. “Face away from the door, hands behind your back!” someone ordered.
Jango didn’t want his hands to get tied up, but he also didn’t want to make trouble until he knew that he’d be able to get away, so he reluctantly did as he was told. The door swung open a moment later, and someone came right up behind him. He only heard one set of footsteps, and his arms were roughly grabbed by the person, which meant that they had both hands occupied.
Even though he’d just resigned himself to playing along until a better opportunity came up, this seemed like as good an opportunity as he was going to get. He threw himself back to jam his elbow into his jailor’s gut, and then was grabbed again so quickly that he immediately realized his mistake: his captor had more than two arms. Shit.
The next time he woke up, he felt even more sore and banged up than before, though he was still in the same cell. He berated himself for acting so rashly before, giving away any chance at a surprise attack in the future since his captors would now be on guard while dealing with him.
He wondered if he was going to be forced into a fighting ring, or something along those lines, because when he got close enough to the door, and really strained himself, he could faintly hear the sounds of battle in the distance. But he didn’t hear any of the cheering or booing that one might expect from a crowd watching a fight.
Also, he didn’t expect an arena to be able to move, and yet he could definitely hear that the fighting was slowly but surely getting closer to him. Jango moved to stand right next to the door. The only weapon at hand was the bucket, which definitely didn’t smell clean, but it was better than nothing. He prepared himself to smash it over the head of whoever opened his door next.
An unfamiliar voice called out from the hallway, “If anyone’s in there, I advise you to stand back from the door!”
Jango only hesitated for a moment before moving further back, not wanting to get hit if someone was about to throw an explosive. The voice had clearly not come through the mouthpiece of a Mandalorian helmet, and yet he could not think of anyone else who might be here to bust him out. Although he had not been addressed by name or title, so perhaps they had no idea who he was.
Rather than the door flying off its hinges, he saw a bright blue light pierce through the thick durasteel, the material around the blade turning bright orange as it was superheated. Jango narrowed his eyes at the jetii’kad. After what they’d done to his people, what the hell was a jetii doing here?
The hinges were melted through by the blade, and then the door was lightly pushed open, the whole thing falling forward and landing flat on the floor. Jango tightly gripped the bucket in his hand, but as his potential rescuer stood in the doorway, Jango couldn’t help but be taken by surprise.
The young man standing there was not dressed in the drab robes that Jango associated with jetiise, and looked to be quite young. He was also wearing a birikad, complete with a child that did not even seem old enough to be adiik. What kind of crazy bastard brought a baby into the thick of a fight against slavers? Weren’t the jetii supposed to care about their ade as much as the Mandalorians?
There was the sound of a blaster firing, and the jetii turned and quickly deflected the bolt, sending it flying back to the one who had shot it. Jango slowly revised his last thought. Perhaps the jetii had enough skill the back their confidence in protecting the baby, but it still seemed rather unthinkable.
Then he turned back to look at Jango again, who gave the jetii a long, assessing look. He was relieved to realize that he did not recognize this man from Galidraan, which meant that Jango was not obligated to execute him on the spot before they could make a getaway. The jetii did not seem to recognize Jango either, and he also didn’t seem alarmed by the way that Jango was still clutching the bucket.
The man turned off his weapon and clipped it to his belt, though Jango was not foolish enough to believe that it meant the jetii was unarmed. He held his hands out cautiously, like Jango was a wild animal to be calmed. “I’m not here to hurt you, I promise. The path back to my ship should still be clear, and we need to get going.”
Jango narrowed his eyes. Part of him wanted to attack the jetii to make himself feel better about what had happened to his people. But the rest of him knew that it was more important to escape now so that he could at least survive long enough to get his revenge. He nodded abruptly and stayed silent as he followed the jetii through the halls of a large and complex building. Jango had to admit that he would have most likely never been able to find the exit on his own.
He grabbed a blaster off of one of the fallen captors, though he could immediately tell that it was shit quality. It was unfortunate that his own weapons had probably already been sold off, along with his armor.
The jetii had clearly told the truth about clearing the way, because there was no more opposition as they made it to a small ship that had been docked precariously right outside the large building. It was only after they had evaded some final cannon shots and made it into hyperspace that Jango thought to ask, “What about the others?”
The jetii checked his dashboard one more time before turning in his chair to look up at Jango. “I searched the whole building, but you were the only prisoner I could find. Do you know for sure that there were more?” Jango shrugged. He had no idea, he had just assumed that it was likely that slavers would have more than one person being held prisoner. The jetii gave Jango a gentle smile that just got on his nerves more. “We’re old hands at this, don’t worry.”
“We?” Was there a whole band of di’kut jetii running around freeing slaves?
The jetii laughed. “Ah, forgive me for forgetting my introductions. I’m Obi-Wan, and this is my partner in crime, Anakin.” He gestured to the baby, who was mindlessly teething on the rather hefty charm of the necklace he was wearing.
Jango blinked once, waiting for Obi-Wan to admit that he was joking, but the jetii just looked at him expectantly. Jango crossed his arms over his chest and narrowed his eyes. “You often bring your ad into firefights?”
Obi-Wan didn’t seem concerned by the strong accusation in Jango’s tone. “Trust me, it’s safer for everyone that way. Anakin can and will hijack our own ship if left alone on it.” He leaned forward to lightly brush his nose against the top of Anakin’s head, then looked back up at Jango. “Is there anywhere you want us to take you?”
Jango’s first instinct was to ask to go home, but he stopped himself from saying it out loud. He didn’t want to start a fight just yet, and if the jetii hadn’t realized he had the Mand’alor on board, then that wasn’t something Jango felt the need to inform him of. But he also didn’t want to get brought back to some jetii base. “Where are you headed?” he asked instead of answering, blatantly fishing for information.
Obi-Wan just shrugged one shoulder, careful not to jostle Anakin around. “We don’t really go anywhere in particular, we just wander until we find people who need our help.”
“You don’t have a temple or something?”
Obi-Wan blinked a few times. “What?”
Jango nodded towards the jetii’kad hanging from Obi-Wan’s belt. “You’re a jet- jedi.”
The look that crossed Obi-Wan’s face was too brief for Jango to parse it out, but it was definitely something complicated. “I’m not a Jedi,” he said quietly, a hint of old hurt in his voice. “If you think of somewhere you want to be dropped off, just let me know. I don’t know what your situation is, but I can bring you to some friends who will get you new paperwork if you need it.”
“And what do you get out of all this?”
Obi-Wan’s friendly smile from before was gone, and now he just looked tired. “I just want to help out where I can.” Anakin started tugging on Obi-Wan’s sleeve, and Obi-Wan grabbed his weapon. He popped it open to remove the brightly glowing blue crystal, and then closed it back up to hand the empty casing to the baby, who started gnawing on it. He continued to speak as he turned his powerful weapon into a chew toy. “There is enough pain and hurt in this galaxy, and if I can do my part to lessen it, even if it’s just by saving one person at a time, then that’s what I will do.”
In Jango’s experience, no one was truly that selfless, and he didn’t think that this not- jetii was any exception. But the man had saved Jango from an uncertain fate, and he seemed to be treating his ad well enough, so there was that. Mandalore had been badly hurt, and Galidraan had been a crushing blow to the Haat Mando'ade, and for his failure, Jango no longer deserved to be called the leader of whoever might be left. But perhaps there was still a chance for him to earn back that honor.
,,,
It had been about twelve days, and the new guy had still yet to decide on where he wanted to go. He’d also been very tight-lipped about his history, which Obi-Wan could understand, all things considered. At least he’d eventually gotten a name to call him.
The ship was not small, as Obi-Wan had never seen the point in getting something larger when it was mostly just him and Anakin aboard. It would be a waste of fuel and resources for no reason. But this was the first time that the ship felt nearly claustrophobic. Obi-Wan and Jango took turns sleeping on the only bed, but when they were both awake, it was impossible to avoid each other. It felt like Jango was always there, watching Obi-Wan.
It’s not that Obi-Wan felt uncomfortable, exactly, though the Force whispered to him of how dangerous Jango could be. There was just something about the closeness that felt foreign and yet familiar, and it was unlike how he’d felt around anyone else who’d been on his ship.
“How do you make money?” Jango asked as they shared a meal. “I can’t imagine there’s much profit in what you’re doing.”
Obi-Wan shrugged one shoulder. “Odd jobs and trading favors for supplies when needed. It’s enough for us to get by.”
Jango frowned thoughtfully. “You’ve clearly got the skills, why not try your hand at bounty hunting? It’s a lot more profitable.”
“More dangerous, too,” Obi-Wan told him, looking pointedly at where Anakin was mashing his way through a plate of pureed fruits and vegetables.
“Hm. If you don’t mind me asking, where’s the other parent?” He was probably wondering why Obi-Wan couldn’t leave Anakin with them while Obi-Wan went on his dangerous missions.
Obi-Wan knew that Jango could be dangerous, but he also didn’t feel that he was personally in any danger from the man, and something in his gut said that Jango could be trusted. “You could say that he’s a foundling.” Jango gave him a sharp look at that, since he’d obviously been trying to hide his origins, but he’d slipped up a few times with mando’a. It had not been so long ago that Satine had been laughing at Obi-Wan’s atrocious pronunciation while she’d been teaching him the language. He quickly moved on, though, not wanting to make Jango feel pressured to share more. “He was born to an enslaved woman, though I never met her and don’t even know her name. I was entrusted to get him to freedom and safety. I was told that someone would arrive for him within a month or two, but by the time nearly half a year passed, I accepted that no one was coming. I don’t know where he was supposed to end up, but we’ve been doing well together, I think.”
Jango gave him a long look, and leaned back in his seat. “If you knew where he was supposed to go, or if you were able to find his mother and free her, would you hand him over?”
Truthfully, Obi-Wan had asked himself that same question many times over the past year, and at first the answer had seemed obvious, but at this point, it was much more complicated. “I just want whatever’s best for him,” he finally answered, knowing that it was hardly a real answer at all.
“Hm.” But at least Jango returned the kindness of not pushing for more answers. Then he moved, and even though he kept his motions slow and easy, Obi-Wan was still slightly startled. But he did not stop Jango from scooping Anakin up out of his high chair.
Anakin looked at Jango, and Obi-Wan could feel that the boy was curious, but not uncomfortable. Jango spoke softly to Anakin, and Obi-Wan politely did not listen in until Jango’s voice returned to normal volume. “He’s going to be a strong warrior someday, I can tell.”
Coming from a Mandalorian presumably not associated with Satine’s faction, that was a high compliment. “Perhaps. But I believe that Anakin could do just about anything he puts his mind to.” Even with the tentative trust between them, he did not mention that Anakin was already proving to be far more powerful in the Force than most children his age. It would only remind Obi-Wan that the responsible thing to do would be to drop Anakin off at the Jedi Temple and allow him to be raised by the Jedi.
“I think he wants you,” Jango interrupted Obi-Wan’s thoughts.
Anakin’s eyes were narrowed and his lips were pursed as he struggled to stretch his arms out towards Obi-Wan. Obi-Wan mentally scolded himself for not shielding better when he knew that Anakin was sensitive to his moods. It was just hard to figure out the right balance between keeping Anakin protected from overwhelming feelings in the Force, while not blocking him out entirely. Obi-Wan’s own training told him to put up stronger shields, but he was not a Jedi anymore, and Anakin clearly thrived on connection.
Obi-Wan accepted Anakin from Jango, and gently rocked the boy in his arms while whispering soothing nonsense and sending calmness through the Force. Jango just stood there and silently watched Obi-Wan sooth the baby, a strange look on his face that Obi-Wan didn’t quite understand. But that didn’t really mean much anyways, since there were a lot of things about Jango that Obi-Wan had yet to understand.