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Obi-Wan Kenobi was born shortly after sunset, because for his whole life, he was destined to miss everything good by a few minutes.
It was, perhaps, this unforeseen curse that brought him to Kamino ten years too late. Jango Fett's scowl cut a mean line on his forehead. The Mandalorian’s eyes did not dare glimmer with recognition. This was not a homecoming.
Even if Obi-Wan had once found a home on Mandalore. Even if he had once found home with Jango. For a moment, it felt as though they had never known each other. For a moment, Obi-Wan believed that maybe they hadn’t.
The light that once blazed in that young commander’s eyes was dull. Obi-Wan wondered what had snuffed it out. What death had he been too late to prevent this time?
The young boy, Boba, if he caught the name correctly, stood cautiously by his father’s side. Obi-Wan and Jango had met when they were teenagers. If they had met earlier, is this what he would have looked like?
The Kaminoan asked the Mandalorian something that Obi-Wan could not hear over the buzzing in his ears. He was a stranger here. This was not a homecoming.
“Your clones are very impressive. You must be very proud.”
The words that left his lips felt as though they were not his own, as though the Jedi Code itself spoke through him like an oracle of duty and obligation.
He withheld a cringe. Jango did not.
“I’m just a simple man, trying to make my way in the universe.”
Jango’s matter-of-fact tone and bitter smirk brought Obi-Wan out of his stupor, and he remembered what he was doing here. He needed to figure out who this Sifo-Dyas was. Or better yet, who was trying to kill Naboo’s senator.
“Ever made it as far into the interior as Coruscant?”
The Mandalorian’s eyes flashed with something. At first, the Jedi could not place what it was. Mischief? No, that wasn’t quite it. Deception. Guilt . He still remembered the look on the son of the Mand’alor’s face when they had been caught slipping out after dark to sit in the meadow.
Their meadow.
‘Jango’s meadow,’ Obi-Wan corrected himself, internal voice full of rebuke. He was only ever a guest.
And then, in the hour that the Mandalorian had needed him most, he had missed it.
For the duration of the tense conversation, Obi-Wan found himself searching Jango’s brown eyes. For what, he couldn’t place– though that rebellious part of him deep down knew it was hope.
Hope that they could make amends, hope that they could be on the same side again, hope that–
“Always a pleasure to meet a Jedi.”
Obi-Wan had to stop himself from stepping back from the vitriolic words. He looked between Jango’s eyes like a wounded animal searching for the hunter who had not hit their mark. Except Jango never missed his mark. He had Obi-Wan right where he wanted.
When he tried to swallow, the Jedi’s mouth was dry. It wasn’t until he was safely in the hallway that he realized he had been holding his breath.
If not for Taun We, he would have dropped his weight against the wall before him, gasping to catch his breath, to let himself fall apart.
‘But that was not the Jedi Way,’ he chided himself again at the thought.
‘Attachments are forbidden.’