Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The first time Jango sees the jetii, he is crashing through a window of the unfortunate Senator Amidala’s apartment, careening through the air as a younger, angrier jetii commandeers a speeder. Jango follows the two of them as they somehow manage to stay alive while wildly making their way to a club, flowing in and out of traffic. He quickly shifts his attention to Zam, long years of experience telling him this isn’t going to go the way he’s hoped.

He’s right, of course, and spots her exiting the club, shuffled along by the jetii. She’s about to start speaking, ready to give everything away, and he sighs. He doesn’t expect the first jetii to clock him so swiftly, or to feel his eyes on him long after Jango knows he’s out of sight.

Jango is a little annoyed with himself that he left behind a clue rather than just take out the two jetii outright along with Zam, but the contract had been very clear. He doesn’t have a lot of long-range weaponry options on Kamino, so it’s not as though he had much of a choice at that distance. He doesn’t expect them to really find him, anyway, not based on a single, untraceable dart. He knows jetiise well enough. They don’t give anything a close enough look.

It turns out that this specific jetii, one irritatingly persistent Obi-Wan Kenobi, does in fact give things a close enough look. He arrives on Kamino nearly the same time as Jango. Taun We, for some inexplicable reason, brings Kenobi right to his doorstep. Jango can’t quite tell if Kenobi saw his armor or not, but the maddening smirk on his face during their short, fraught conversation tells Jango that Kenobi has figured out more than he is supposed to. It’s all he can do to keep his hands off his weapons and he itches to be in his armor. He doesn’t feel the burning need to shoot all jetii on sight, not anymore, but that doesn’t mean he wants one wandering around his living quarters, daring to look at his ad.

The jetii’s face is fairly impassive, his tone giving nothing away as they trade false pleasantries about the clones and Jango’s recent travels. But Jango can’t help but wonder—Kenobi seems more off balance than he’d expected a jetii to be. He has no idea who Sifo-Dyas might be, and Kenobi’s eyes flicker behind his mild response. The mind of a jetii, though—not something he cares to think about.

He does think, fiercely, about just how well the clones will do their job. He needs to remain patient. Jetii can’t lead an army. They’ll fall apart. He can’t help but smirk back at Kenobi, thinking of how the arrogant jetiise will lose their standing in the galaxy. They deserve what’s coming to them, this one included. Kenobi shoots him one long look as he leaves, one Jango doesn’t care to interpret.

“Pack your things, we’re leaving,” Jango says to Boba, as soon as he’s out of the room. Whatever the jetii is up to now, Jango’s not interested in sticking around to find out. And he’s certainly not leaving Boba here while Kenobi is sniffing around. There will probably be more of them coming.

“Why were you being so polite, Dad?” Boba asks, stuffing some of his belongings into a bag. Jango, as he always does, tries not to cringe at Boba’s use of the word in Basic.

Jango grimaces, thinking back on how he’d mirrored the jetii’s tone and short, clipped responses. He starts to pull on his armor. “Jetii fight with words as well as their kad’au,” he says. “And they can read what you say and how you say it. You must only think about what you are saying, and say as little as you can. They can tell when you lie.”

“They can read your mind,” Boba nods. They’ve talked about this before.

“Exactly,” Jango says. He puts on his helmet and sends a brief message to Mij. “Got everything you need? I don’t want to be on the same planet as that Kenobi any longer than we have to.”

Kenobi may have decided on more conversation, but Jango’s not interested. He knows the jetii made an outgoing comm. It won’t be long before more of them come crawling around. He was hoping to be in atmo before the jetii reappeared, but it won’t take long to get rid of him. “Get on board,” he tells Boba, hoping Kenobi can’t hear his anxiety through the vocoder. The fight on the landing pad is far more brutal than Jango expects, his mind flashing back to snow-covered fields and dying verde.

Boba’s assistance blasting Kenobi from the ship is key, but the jetii won’t stay down. He fights like a feral nexu, even without his kad’au, kicking at Jango and using his own weapons against him. He doesn’t even seem to notice he’s kicking beskar. It would be impressive, if it was anyone else and wasn’t keeping him away from his ship and Boba. The rain isn’t helpful, making the surface slick even for Jango. The jetii is clearly trying not to incapacitate him; Jango has no interest in offering the same courtesy but he can’t get close enough to take him out.

He finally gets a line around Kenobi’s wrists, ready to swing him over the ledge. Jango has a brief moment where he thinks he may go over the edge of the platform himself, but he gets the grappling line loose and sends Kenobi tumbling into the sea. That should do it. He limps up the ramp to the ship, not even needing to instruct Boba to take off as he searches himself for bruises, of which there are plenty. He’s somehow managed to hold on to his Westars, but he’s lost a jetpack and his armor is certainly going to need some work.

Still, he’s grateful that he was the one to walk away. Even if Kenobi had survived that fall, the creatures in the water will make short work of him.

Of course, Kenobi shows up in Geonosis’ atmosphere, having gotten a tracker on them somehow. It’s frustratingly competent, especially for someone who is supposed to be dead. Jango’s prior experiences with jetii—he doesn’t want to think about Galidraan, but he can’t help it—had been all bluster and kad’au and jetii osik. Kenobi actually seems to have a brain, and he flies better than Jango expects. It’s almost a pity, then, that they have to blow him up, finally getting behind his starfighter and targeting him with seismic charges.

“We won’t be seeing him again,” he tells Boba as their ship glides through the debris. Boba chuckles.

He goes straight to his client, a self-important separatist shabuir he knows only as Yan, when they land. He doesn’t often fail to complete a job, but when he does, he tells his clients in person. And his attempts to kill Senator Amidala for him had failed both due to her own diligence and the jetii’s luck.

Yan does not seem surprised at his failure, which rankles. There’s something about the man that Jango doesn’t like, but he’s dealt with shady clients before. It’s probably Yan’s imperious demeanor that gives Jango a headache; the way he is constantly looking at Jango as though he’s smelling something rotten.

“Well, I can’t say I’m not disappointed,” Yan says. “But it’s not unexpected. I’m more disappointed that you outsourced it.” There’s nothing in the contract about outsourcing, Jango doesn’t say. If this shabuir tries to cheat him, it will be the end of him. He may not get the full amount, but he’s owed for travel and expenses.

“You wanted it public, the first time,” Jango says. “I don’t do public. I took care of Zam, anyway.” He doesn’t even feel bad about it; she would have double-crossed him the minute he got paid.

Yan is looking at a screen. Jango chafes under his armor at the disrespect. “Did anyone see you?”

Jango sighs. “Two jetii.”

Yan raises an eyebrow. “And they live?”

Jango bristles. “You specifically said it would draw too much attention to kill them on Coruscant, once we discovered she had jetii protection. I do my job.”

“Hmm,” Yan muses. Like it was some kind of test.

Jango’s fingers twitch. He imagines shooting Yan through the eyes. It’s very satisfying. He clears his throat. He wants to bite back the words, but continues. “One followed me to Kamino. The other one’s just a kid, still on Coruscant, I expect.”

Yan’s eyes dart over to him this time. Jango’s headache spikes. “So they know about your little project, then.”

“Not my project, I’m just getting paid,” Jango snarls. Yan waves a hand. “He knows about the clones,” Jango concedes. “He had likely connected me to the assassination attempt. We spoke, briefly. He left and came back, presumably to arrest me. It stands to reason the rest of the jetiise know about the clones. I’ll probably have to lay low.”

Yan hums, thoughtful. “A bit earlier than expected, but manageable,” he says, which doesn’t make any sense. “Where is the Jedi now?”

“I took care of him,” Jango says. “Blew up his ship in atmo.”

Yan looks at the screen. “Are you sure about that?” he asks. “Because I have reports of a perfectly intact Jedi starfighter on the edges of our facilities.”

Osik. Jango grits his teeth, grateful for his helmet. Persistent pain in the shebs.

“Does this Jedi have a name?” Yan continues, sounding bored. He taps on a datapad.

“Introduced himself as Kenobi,” Jango says.

Yan’s eyes snap up to Jango’s helmet. Jango is not accustomed to surprising this man. “Obi-Wan?”

“Yeah, you know him?” Jango asks. He gestures at the screen. “Doesn’t seem to go away.”

Yan’s smile is oddly almost proud. “He is known for that. I’ve never met him, but I would like to. We are closing in on his position. I’d still be willing to pay some of your bounty, if you would assist me just a little while longer.”

“You want me to capture this jetii?” Jango asks. “So you can what, meet him? Have a chat?”

“I’ve heard he is a reasonable sort,” Yan says. “I anticipate his arrival will trigger the appearance of more Jedi. I’ll need some protection.”

“Jetii capture and bodyguarding?” Jango asks, skeptic.

“I’ve sent you the coordinates,” Yan says. Jango’s HUD pings. “I will not pay you if he is killed before I speak with him,” Yan warns.

Jango waves his hand, already going back to the shuttle.

Persistent Kenobi may be, but even he can’t stand up to a barrage of stun bolts from droidekas. He’s in the middle of another transmission—to Tatooine of all places—when the droids approach. Jango doesn’t want to be spotted, so he allows the droids to do their job before he collects Kenobi himself. The starfighter’s astromech brandishes some kind of electric prod at him, rolled defensively on top of Kenobi’s kad’au. Well, that’s fine. Yan made no mention of needing it and Jango never does anything extra for this client. Might have been a nice trophy for himself, something for Boba, but he’s not fighting a crazy droid for it. The astromech beeps something rude at him, but Jango ignores it.

He doesn’t even want to touch the jetii, his skin crawling at the very thought, but this whole contract has been such a mess. He grabs the jetii, again ignoring the beeping astromech, and carts him back to Yan’s base of operation. He lays him out on the floor, studying him, still holding out his blaster in case Kenobi decides to wake back up. Jango wouldn’t put it past him.

“Stunned,” Jango says, when Yan swans back into the cavern. “Not sure how long it’ll last. Got a little twitchy on the way over here.”

Yan has some kind of containment field set up. He puts binders on Kenobi’s wrists and ankles, and the jetii makes a wounded noise and shudders, full-bodied, but doesn’t awaken.

“What was that,” Jango asks.

“Force suppression,” Yan says. “Handy things to have. It will keep him docile.”

Jango hasn’t had too much interaction with Kenobi aside from their pointed conversation and painful fight. Neither leads him to believe Kenobi will at any point ever be docile, even contained, but Yan’s not paying him for his opinion. He grunts under his armor.

“Did you collect his weapon?” Yan asks.

“You didn’t say you needed his weapon,” Jango tells him.

Yan turns fully to stare at him. Jango’s head aches, as it always does when this man makes eye contact, even through the helmet. This is it, he decides. No amount of money is worth this. Once this job is done he’s blocking this shabuir’s comm code. Jango shrugs his shoulders, ignoring the sneer forming on Yan’s face.

“Fine, we’ll find it,” Yan says, clearly annoyed. “Wait outside. I’ll get you when I need you.” Jango is glad his helmet hides his smirk. That snotty astromech has likely already taken care of it, not that Jango expects Kenobi to live long enough in the arena to need it, once Yan is through with his conversation.

Though, he’s underestimated this jetii before.

Kenobi has been in holding for a few days and sentenced to execution in an arena—Jango wishes the Geonosians luck with that—when Yan sends Jango off to collect another pair of intruders. It’s the Senator and the angry young jetii. Apparently they have been traipsing through the droid foundries, looking for Kenobi. Jango watches them for a bit as they carve a path of destruction and get themselves in and out of trouble before they finally get overwhelmed by the Geonosians. Jango leads the charge on the jetii. Up close, Jango can see a long trailing braid over his shoulder that indicates he’s still learning. Jango scoffs, the sound hidden by his helmet, as the jetii surrenders. Kenobi must be this one’s teacher, then. They deserve each other.

Two jetii captured, and Jango hasn’t killed either one of them. He’s not sure if he should be proud of himself or frustrated with his restraint. Yan will owe him some of the bounty, he decides. It doesn’t take long for the Geonosians to set up a proper execution, and soon enough Jango is watching from up above with Yan, Boba, and a few of the other self-important shabuire that make up the Geonosian ruling council.

Of course, Kenobi and the other two manage to ruin the whole spectacle when they free themselves and cause all kinds of chaos. It certainly is entertaining for the masses, but as Jango watches the three prisoners sit atop the howling reek, slowly being surrounded, he finds himself curious how they’ll attempt to make their way out of this one. Amidala seems smarter than the pair of jetii put together; he almost finds himself glad his attempt failed, and not just because it makes Yan cross.

Jango is surprised to feel the sudden heat of a violet kad’au so close to his face, and furious that it was lit anywhere near Boba. Yan had not indicated more than a passing familiarity with the jetii, aside from his knowledge of Kenobi, but he also seems to know this Windu. Jango is frustrated he left his helmet off for this. He jams it back on and blasts Windu over the ledge, seeing the blazing lights of other jetii entering the arena. All these jetiise for Kenobi?

No matter, anyway. Jango’s been itching for a proper fight with the jetii, his tussle with Kenobi notwithstanding. This will do.

“Stay up here and out of the way,” he tells Boba. “I don’t want you anywhere near the jetii.” Boba is annoyed, but he’d been surprised by that kad’au too, so he’ll listen, and Jango leaves him tucked behind an outcropping.

It’s a blur of a fight, and Jango loses track of who he’s facing and how many jetii have fallen, until he comes face to face with Windu again. He’s sore, having been tossed around more than he expected.

Then, his heart drops when he hears a scream, just as Kenobi brushes by him in a blur. He activates his jetpack, avoiding the scowling Windu just as he sweeps his blade where Jango’s head had been. Jango’s going for Boba, but so is Kenobi, and Boba is falling—Jango won’t get there in time—

Kenobi jumps higher than he should be able to, catching Boba around the middle and rolling them so that Kenobi is the one crashing into a rock outcropping, but Boba is all tangled up with him.

Jango’s nearly dizzy with panic, seeing the jetii with his arms clutching Jango's ad. Kenobi wheezes something but Boba gets him with a knee and a sharp elbow, jumping up. Kenobi’s face twists in a grimace as he tries to struggle out of the rocks, and Jango can hear the hum of a kad’au behind him, probably Windu. He’s trapped between the two jetii, one directly at his back, which makes his heart pound and his skin crawl, but he doesn’t want to take his eyes off Boba. He grits his teeth, raising his Westar at Kenobi, who freezes, holding his hands up. Fear for Boba is the only thing keeping his hand steady. Boba edges toward him, glaring at the jetii. Kenobi’s brow furrows. “Did you—”

There are more blaster shots, deflected by Windu behind them. “Could we have this conversation another time?” Windu asks. Kenobi twitches his hands higher and Jango suppresses a flinch. He’s not fooled by the raised hands; jetii can look innocent all they want but he knows they can work their magic with barely a thought. They are probably talking to each other too, using their magic.

Jango decides that at the very least, Windu will deflect any more stray shots from the droids to prevent Kenobi—and so also Jango and Boba—from getting hit. He doesn’t take his eyes off Kenobi as Boba inches closer. Kenobi unnervingly meets his gaze, even through the helmet, and relaxes minutely himself once Boba is back at Jango’s side. Boba sags in relief and it’s all Jango can do to stay upright, staring at Kenobi again until Boba is tucked firmly enough at his side for him to carry them both to safety and off this cursed planet. Kriff the bounty, and kriff protecting Yan. He’s done enough.

“Are you hurt?” he asks on the ship, running a hand up and down Boba’s side. “How did that happen?”

Boba is still shaken up; he allows Jango to fuss. “I don’t know. I got shoved—or jostled—or—”

“Someone pushed you? Was it a jetii?” Jango feels the rage building, that one of them would dare—

“I don’t think so,” Boba admits. “I was just looking over the edge, I didn’t mean to get so close, I just—I wanted to see you, and—”

Jango takes a deep breath. “All right, all right, ad’ika. You’re all right. Did that jetii hurt you when he knocked into you?”

“No,” Boba says. “I got the wind knocked out of me, but he’s the one who fell on the rocks.” He smiles a little. “Got him pretty good on my way up.”

“You sure did,” Jango says, mind still racing. It doesn’t make sense, is the thing. Why would Kenobi save Boba, after Jango had tried—several times—to kill him? Why did he and Windu allow Jango to point a blaster at Kenobi’s face for so long? And Boba—Boba is unharmed. Kenobi was clearly injured by the rocks.

He can’t stop thinking about it as he checks Boba again for injuries. The thought plagues him as he scrolls through his multiplying unread messages, as he cleans his armor, as he calculates their travel through hyperspace. Kenobi, just staring at him with his hands up, having risked himself to save the child of a man who clearly wanted him dead. He tries to put it out of his mind. It’s one jetii. Probably did it by accident. Or was looking to save his own skin, once Jango had a blaster pointed at him.

It’s one jetii.

Nothing special.

Chapter Text

Kal Skirata leaves Kamino the minute war breaks out on Geonosis. He sends Jango a missive alerting him of such, along with a copy of the contract as if Jango doesn’t have the whole thing memorized himself. Still, it makes it easier to contact him, once Jango drops out of hyperspace in Mandalore’s orbit.

“The jetii have made it to Kamino,” Skirata says when the comm connects. “They sent a Togruta. The Kaminiise are not sure what to do with her.”

“I know about the jetiise,” Jango says. “I’ve been trying to kill one of them for days.”

“Trying,” Skirata snorts. “You really have lost your touch, Alor.” The tone is sarcastic, and cuts the way Skirata intends it to.

“I won’t bring Boba back to Kamino,” Jango says. “Not with a jetii there.”

Skirata’s pause is long and heavy. “The Nulls won’t see you,” he finally says.

“They won’t,” Jango agrees. He scowls at the thought of Skirata’s adopted pack of loose cannons. “I don’t even need to stay nearby. We just need to lie low.”

“Pissed off the wrong person, then?” Skirata asks.

Jango grimaces, thinking of his failed bounty and rushed departure from Geonosis. Not to mention the encounters with Windu and Kenobi. Thinks about Kenobi, pitching himself headlong into harm’s way to protect Boba. “It’s a bit of a story.”

Skirata sighs, long and frustrated. “We’re at Enceri,” he says. “I’ll bring you in myself.”

Enceri is a trading post, ringed with small temporary dwellings. It’s close to the only forest Jango has seen in years, the veshok trees stubbornly growing back after all the planet has been through. He doesn’t lie to himself. He knows Skirata gave in only for Boba. Skirata’s hard edges have gotten harder during the ten years on Kamino; getting angrier at Jango as the years have gone by. And the Nulls—he’d always been fiercely protective of them.

They don’t see anyone else as Skirata leads them to an empty dwelling. “We’ll be in and out,” Kal says. “We’re working on something. Bralor is overseeing it, due to my commitment to the army.” His look is full of reproach.

“Something?” Jango asks. Distantly, he can hear the sounds of construction.

Skirata shrugs. It’s all Jango will get out of him. “You said you had a story.”

Jango tells him everything, from the failed assassination attempts to the dogfight over Geonosis and finally to Kenobi saving Boba.

“You’re telling me you stopped playing both sides and finally broke your contract with that Separatist?" Skirata asks. It had been a long argument, once Skirata had found out. Skirata could never handle the fact that Jango had no real side in this war. Jango maintained that his only side is the one that made the jetiise feel an ounce of the pain they had caused him.

Jango nods. “That’s done,” he says. “I don’t owe that shabuir anything.”

“But you do owe this jetii for saving your ad,” Skirata says.

Jango knows he’s shied away from the idea so far, but Skirata has the right of it. It doesn’t sit well, owing the jetii. “I don’t know why he did it.”

Skirata huffs. “Who knows why the jetii do anything,” he says. “Better square up, anyway. You’re leaving Bob’ika here, then?”

“I want to go with you,” Boba says.

“Not this time,” Jango says. Boba scowls and Jango ruffles his hair.

“We’ll get you trained up,” Skirata says. He flashes teeth. “Tervho is inbound soon, too.”

Jango grimaces, but doesn’t argue. “We’ll stay a few days,” he says. “Then I’ll head off. I have to figure out where this jetii will be posted, anyway.”

Skirata flashes his teeth again. “You let us handle that,” he says.

Jango is watching Vhonte Tervho work with Boba on target practice when he feels Skirata settle down next to him. They’ve settled into a routine over the past week or so, and it’s almost peaceful. He feels a pang, that Boba has spent his life on Kamino, traversing sterile halls with Jango his primary source of company. Jango’s itching to get moving again, but this has been nice for Boba. Skirata and Tervho don’t hold the same enmity for Boba that they do for Jango. He’ll be safe and happy here when Jango goes.

“It’s a travesty that kid doesn’t know Mando’a,” Skirata says. “I thought he was supposed to be your son.”

“He is my son,” Jango snarls. It feels like Skirata has been building up to this argument for years, and part of Jango is glad to finally be having it. The other part of him is just exhausted.

Skirata holds up his hands. “You have millions of clones you don’t care about. And the one you do care about doesn’t call you his buir,” he says. He shakes his head. “Playing both sides was one thing. But I never thought you’d turn your back—”

“The Haat’ade turned their back on me first,” Jango grits out. “Three years, I spent on that freighter, starving and breathing in spice, dreaming of Myles and Silas and all the rest, thinking everyone was gone. Only to find that there were plenty of you left. You just didn’t care to look.”

Skirata’s eyes go dark and wounded. “That’s what you think? That we didn’t care? We were in hiding,” he says. “Kyr’tsad was rounding up and glassing every Haat’ade who was left. And worse, our families. Farmers. Teachers. Ade. You were gone. And when you came back, you wanted nothing to do with any of us.”

Jango grits his teeth, hearing the buzz of a kad’au in the back of his mind, feeling the spice burning the inside of his nose, seeing the echoes of his nightmares. Remembering looking for trainers to join him on Kamino and realizing how many of his people had survived and left him behind. “It was a long time ago,” he says, his voice cutting on the words. He clears his throat. “I have always been a Haat’ade. I will always be one. But I’m not who I was, Skirata. I don’t know if I ever will be again.”

“We answered your call, Jan’ika,” Skirata says, standing up. He uses Jango’s shoulder for balance. “We’d do it again.”

Jango swipes a hand over his face. The Separatists and the Republic can devour themselves. There’s nothing to call the Haat’ade for. And after nearly ten years training troopers on Kamino, having to disappear from whatever family ties they’d managed to rebuild—he knows. They’d have no reason to answer, not again. And the others would follow their lead. Skirata can talk all he wants. “You find me a location?” he asks.

Skirata eyes him for a long moment before speaking. “The Separatists are blockading Christophisis.” Skirata passes him a datastick. “They’re sending your jetii there. Apparently he’s quite important.”

Jango swats at him, but Skirata pulls out of range. “He’s not my jetii.” It tracks, though, Kenobi being important. Yan knew who he was, and that Windu was looking after him, too. They sent a company of jetii after him on Geonosis. It certainly hadn’t been to save the Senator.

Skirata grins at him. “As you say. He has a battalion of his own, anyway. Him and some other kid jetii, real loose cannon. They’re there together.”

“Who’s Kenobi’s Commander?” Jango asks, sticking the datastick in a compartment in his vambrace.

Skirata flashes his teeth. “I’ll let you discover that on your own,” he says.

Jango navigates through the Christophsis blockade with very little difficulty, landing on the outskirts of what he thinks is the Republic base and slipping in before. It doesn’t take much lurking around before he hears blasters and the clanging of droids, and sees Kenobi surrounded by a pack of them.

He takes aim, taking out two of them before they can blast at Kenobi. Kenobi doesn’t flinch, though Jango knows he can’t see where the help is coming from, and takes out two more. It’s not long before Kenobi is surrounded by smoking piles of wrecked droids, alert and searching.

Jango steps out of the shadows. Kenobi’s hand is still on his kad’au, but he lowers it slightly. “Hello there,” he says. “Jango, I presume? I don’t mean to be so crass, but was this assistance part of a broader plan to continue your earlier pursuits? Because I’m quite busy at the moment.”

Stuffy and pompous, Jango thinks. With that posh accent. He scowls under the helmet. “That contract is done,” he says. “I’m not looking to kill you, jetii.”

“I suppose there could be any number and form of bounties at this point,” Kenobi says.

Jango shifts his weight, twitching for his blaster, but he doesn’t reach for it. Any number and form of bounties. Who is this jetii? “Or do anything else,” he amends. “I’m not here on contract.”

Kenobi relaxes, for some reason taking him at his word. Probably because he’s a maniac. His hand lowers further, the light of the kad’au extinguishing. “In that case, I thank you for the help, Jango.” He studies Jango for a moment. “Is Boba all right?”

Jango nearly flinches. “He is fine,” he says. What does Kenobi care about Boba—

The corner of Kenobi’s mouth twitches upward. He turns, as if he can hear something. “I’m glad of that. I will admit to some curiosity, but I really am pressed for time. If you’re looking for something to do, Captain Rex could use some ground support,” Kenobi suggests. “He is quite cross that I’ve advanced on my own.”

“Your Commander is Captain Rex?” Jango asks, frowning.

Jango detects the slightest twitch of Kenobi’s hand as he frowns. “Captain Rex is a captain,” Kenobi says, blithe. “And he works with Anakin.”

Jango fights the urge to tilt his head.

“You’ve met,” Kenobi says.

It’s a little reproachful. The angry jetii student, then. Jango scowls again. How did he know what Jango was thinking—

Kenobi continues. “I work with—” he stops, listening again. “I hate to cut this short, but you must excuse me, I find it’s time for me to get captured.” He offers a slight bow, and scampers off.

Jango is entirely baffled, and abruptly annoyed that he didn’t get the chance to properly thank Kenobi. A few battle droids is nothing compared to the life of his son. His debt remains. He follows.

Tea. Kenobi is sitting down to tea with a Kerkoiden general, negotiating the terms of his surrender. He has blasters pointed at him from all sides, and he’s looking supremely unbothered by the entire affair. Kenobi slowly stirs his tea, drawling out his words, using that same pompous tone, discussing the care of the clone troopers, of all things.

Jango observes from behind an outcropping. As if Kenobi really cares about what would happen to the troops if he surrendered. The Separatist figures it out just as Jango does.

“You’re stalling,” the Kerkoiden growls, flipping the table. The tea goes flying as the droids move in.

Kenobi shrugs, even as he’s held up by the arms between two droids. “Well, I had hoped the shield would be down by now.”

Jango scowls again, annoyed that Kenobi has once again surprised him. The shield generator. Of course. The jetii student is trying to disable the shields so reinforcements can come in, and Kenobi is buying him time. Just like that, the shield goes down, and Kenobi has control over the situation, flipping over the back of the general and taking him hostage. Jango debates stepping out, but Kenobi seems to have the situation well-in-hand.

And it’s not long before the reinforcements are clear to arrive, carrying troopers and a jetii that even Jango recognizes. Yoda is important in the jetii hierarchy, Jango knows. He frowns. First a rescue on Geonosis, now backup from the troll jetii. For Kenobi.

Kenobi’s eyes flick toward where Jango is standing, but Jango pulls further back. He’s not ready to see any of the clones. And he doesn’t want to talk to any other jetii. He’ll find another opportunity.

He follows Kenobi for several missions, intervening on his behalf but never interacting. More than once, he sees Kenobi glancing in his direction, but he doesn’t approach. He tries to get a sense of the man, some understanding of why he would have saved Boba the way he did. He doesn’t really get answers, but then, they don’t speak after Christophsis.

Kenobi does have an alarming tendency to throw himself in front of blaster bolts meant for the troopers, so perhaps the recklessness is a personality trait. He drops back if someone is faltering, to make sure no one gets left behind. He’s also always running off on his own, away from his troopers. Jango still doesn’t know who the Commander of the 212th is, and Skirata refuses to tell him, but they should be keeping better track of their jetii.

He tracks Kenobi and the 212th to Teth. Something about a kidnapped baby Hutt, which sounds like something Kom'rk or one of the other Nulls came up with to mess with him. Kenobi’s student—Jango has learned his name is Skywalker, and he apparently now somehow has a student of his own—is involved, which multiplies the chaos of it all. The politics are uninteresting to Jango, but he follows the clang of kad’ause to a monastery. Kenobi is fighting against a pale-skinned Dathomirian that Jango assumes to be a darjetii, based on the two red blades she’s wielding. It’s different, watching Kenobi fight this darjetii. They move at speeds Jango can’t quite keep up with, and yet Jango gets the sense Kenobi isn’t exerting all his effort. He knows what that looks like by now, after all.

The darjetii whirls around him, and Kenobi keeps grinning. “You’ll have to do better than that, my darling,” he says, as their blades press together. “Anakin will prevail, I’m sure of it. The Hutts will not blame us for the capture of their child.” His tone is just as condescending as ever.

The darjetii growls, swiping at him, and they jump from platform to platform. If she wasn’t a darjetii, Jango might try to warn her that a few platforms will not stop Kenobi. The sound of the blades clashing sets Jango’s mind spiraling back, and he shivers, imagining snow. Kenobi my dears and my darlings and otherwise flirts his way to the highest level of the monastery before simply jumping out a kriffing window. Again. Jango is just about to fire his jetpack to follow when he feels someone at his back.

He turns around, slowly. It’s a trooper, white armor painted over with an orange sunburst. Kenobi’s mystery Commander then, pointing a blaster at him though his arm is shaking a little, as if it pains him to do it.

“You’ve been following the General,” the clone says, low. Jango can’t tell who it is based on his voice. “Why.”

Jango doesn’t pick up his own blaster. He can still hear the sound of clashing kad’ause outside. “He seems to lose all of you quite a bit. Thought you’d appreciate the backup.” He can’t see the commander’s face, but he twitches. The blow has landed. He knows they were trained better than that, especially when it comes to protecting the jetii.

“We follow a battle plan,” the clone says. Jango is almost disappointed he didn’t take the bait, but then they are supposed to be a little more level-headed than he is. Pity.

But there’s something about the Commander’s tone—“Which one of you am I talking to?” Jango asks.

The clashes outside stop. The clone looks up, but doesn’t lower his blaster. “Still have trouble telling us apart, Prime?” he asks.

Oh, now Jango knows. Kenobi’s face appears in the window. The clone’s shoulders relax minutely, and he finally puts the blaster down. Jango shifts further out of view.

“Commander Cody?” Kenobi calls out. “Is everything all right down there?” His voice has completely lost that pompous edge.

“All clear, General,” Cody says back. “Waiting on orders.”

Jango’s not so far away that he can’t see Kenobi’s hand flex, just a hair. Kenobi nods. “Ventress is in the wind, but Anakin has left with the little bundle of Hutt. We should get moving.”

“Copy. We’ll rendezvous at the ship,” Cody says. Kenobi hesitates, as if waiting for something more, before he nods and turns away. Cody clears his throat and Kenobi looks back. “Do try to take a more sensible route back, General,” he says.

Kenobi flashes a bright smile, then, saluting and disappearing from the window.

“Well, well,” Jango says. He hadn’t expected a flare of personality from stringent, strident Commander Cody. Kenobi must be very important indeed, if he’s been given Cody. Jango would never play favorites. And he would never say so, but Cody would be the clone most likely to be able to kill him, if he ever put his mind to it. “I shouldn’t be surprised, CC-2224.”

Cody pulls his helmet off his head, the reveal of the scar over the left side of his face removing any doubt as to his identity. Cody’s the only one who calls him Prime to his face, though. That is proof enough. “Why are you following the General,” he asks again. His face is impassive. It’s been a while since Jango has been face to face with a clone, and he finds it disconcerting, the stony look in Cody’s eyes, the twitch in his jaw.

Jango takes another step back. “I don’t answer to you, CC-2224,” he says, and fires his jetpack.

Skirata gets one look at Jango’s face and laughs, long and loud and hard. “Crossed paths with the Commander, then,” he says.

“You could have told me, Skirata,” Jango growls.

“And deprived myself of this opportunity?” Skirata asks. “Please tell me all about it.”

“Nothing doing,” Jango grumbles.

“He put a blaster in your face, didn’t he?” Skirata says, unable to contain another guffaw.

Tervho is smirking from the other side of the room. Boba glances between all of them. “I don’t get it,” he says. “Who’s the commander?”

“CC-2224,” Jango says.

“Cody,” Tervho corrects, shooting Jango an icy glare. Jango lifts a shoulder.

Skirata cuffs Jango on the back of the head. “It’s your own fault they all hate you,” he says.

Jango knows. It’s for the best, he figured that out. He’s their progenitor. Prime. It’s in Cody’s name for him. Their relationship has never been good. He never saw the need to fix it. Being friendly with them, using their names to their faces—it wasn’t going to make them better soldiers. He’d had friends before Galidraan. Friendship hadn’t saved them.

“I like Cody,” Boba says. Jango frowns. He didn’t realize Boba knew Cody. Boba goes red. “From what I saw,” he adds. Jango doesn’t believe him.

Tervho clears her throat. “You square?” she asks.

Boba shoots her a grateful look. Jango’s not fooled, but he allows it. “No,” he says. “The jetii didn’t need my help.”

That sets Skirata laughing all over again.

Jango taps his foot. “There was a darjetii,” he says. “Red kad’ause.”

Skirata sobers up a bit. “He take care of her?” he asks.

Jango shakes his head. “Caught a transport off planet,” he says.

Vhonte stands. “I’ll go check in with Ordo on that intel, then,” she says, nodding at Skirata as she leaves.

Ordo. Jango still hasn’t seen the Nulls. He’s not sure why it’s starting to bother him. He thinks about the smile Kenobi had given Cody, and shakes off the feeling.

Skirata finishes sharpening his final knife, slotting it back into place. “Mij has been asking about you,” he says.

Jango’s brow furrows. “Mij isn’t supposed to make outgoing calls.”

Skirata shrugs. “Maybe he misdialed. Happens sometimes. Seems rude not to pick it up.”

Jango isn’t fooled. “I’ll go see him after I clear this debt,” he says.

“Can I come?” Boba asks.

Jango frowns. “I don’t want to bring you back to Kamino when there’s a jetii there, ad.”

Boba mirrors his frown. Skirata snorts. “Then can I come on a mission with you? Please?” Skirata clears his throat and Boba glances at him. “Gedet'ye, Buir?”

Jango’s eyes fly to Skirata’s face. He holds out his arms and Boba crashes into them. Jango kisses the top of Boba’s head, and Skirata raises an eyebrow, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. Jango closes his eyes.

“All right, ad’ika,” he says. “Not this next mission. But sometime after that. I promise.” Jango opens his eyes to Kal’s again. “I’m on to you, Skirata,” he says.

“It’s working, isn’t it?” Kal asks, and ruffles Boba’s hair when he leaves.

Chapter Text

The intel from Kal puts Kenobi on Ryloth. Unfortunately, Windu and Skywalker are there, too. He tracks Kenobi’s company to the city of Nabat, which they are trying to reclaim from the Separatists. Jango mostly picks off droids and several frankly terrifying creatures from a distance as Kenobi and his group free a group of Twi’lek prisoners. It’s not long before Kenobi goes haring off on his own again to achieve what Jango assumes was his objective all along—destruction of the proton cannons wreaking havoc on Republic transports.

He nearly does it, too, before one sends him sprawling to the ground and then swings around and takes aim. Jango barely has to think about it before he tosses a grenade into it, disabling it and sending it in pieces to the ground below. A group of Twi’leks converge on the rest, pulling them apart.

Kenobi is on the ground himself, shocked eyes blinking at Jango, one hand half raised in an effort to use his jetii magic. It had been close, Jango thinks. Closer than the jetii expected, and he’d been protecting an ad'ika, besides. She’s tucked behind Kenobi, peering at Jango with wide eyes. Jango nods his head at him, satisfied. He thinks perhaps they should speak—but Jango hears the approach of more troopers and takes off, instead.

“Wait—” he hears, from the ground, but Kenobi is too late.

Jango prefers to let his actions speak for themselves. And he intends to leave immediately, but something keeps him on the outskirts of the camp. It feels unfinished, for all he senses his debt has been repaid. He should talk to Kenobi one more time. Square things officially, make sure Kenobi understands they’re even, too.

It’s that thought that has him approaching the makeshift camp. There’s a fire, a few tents set up. Cody and Kenobi are talking, and there is someone in the shadows at Kenobi’s side.

“Come now, Commander,” Kenobi is saying. “All in a day’s work, wouldn’t you agree? It turned out fine in the end.” He’s using his snotty jetii voice.

“General,” Cody’s voice is stiff. “I understand your experience lies in working solo missions, and I know your missions have been successful. I just think—”

“We have had success in our plans, as you say,” Kenobi cuts in, and Jango can see Cody’s shoulders creep a touch higher. “You are saying I don’t have the experience to understand the advantages of group missions, but I am merely suggesting that my undertaking of solo missions has allowed for a more acceptable rate of casualties among—”

“Obi-Wan,” comes a low, tired voice from the shadows.

Jango is on instant alert. Windu. His hand goes to his Westar, barely registering the conversation. Jetii babble, he thinks. A lot of words without saying anything. Kenobi excels at it.

Kenobi’s shoulders slump. “You are right, of course, Commander. I appreciate you addressing your concerns with us. We’ll work on mission planning with a broader eye on collaboration.”

“Thank you, sir,” Cody says. He moves as if to stride off.

“You could sit for a bit, Commander,” Kenobi says softly, his tone losing that edge.

Cody shakes his head. “I should go see to the men, General, if it’s all right with you.”

“Of course it’s all right,” Kenobi says. His shoulders slump the moment Cody’s back is turned.

Cody brushes by Jango as he goes back toward where the clones are camped. He stops and stares as if he wants to say something, but continues away from him when he sees Windu’s commander, flashing some sort of hand signal at him. Jango frowns under his helmet.

“Obi-Wan,” Windu says again.

Jango strides forward, pulling off his helmet. He’d rather not do this in front of Windu, but it’s him or the clones. Kenobi is only alone when he’s getting fired upon, apparently.

“I'm fine, Mace,” Kenobi says. Well, of course he is. Jango saved his shebs, and now they’re even. Kenobi turns his head, pulling his hands away from where they’re covering his face. “We have company,” he says, standing, moving toward Jango.

Good, Jango thinks. Not quite out of Windu’s earshot, but better. “Vor entye,” Jango says, then starts again, because Kenobi likely doesn’t understand Mando’a. He grimaces. “Thank you. For helping Boba on Geonosis.”

The jetii surprises him. Kenobi’s eyes are wide, searching. Jango has only seen his face through the HUD since Kamino. “Is that what this is? You think you owe me something?” Jango resists the urge to take a step back. “I know you think very little of my people, but I would not allow a child to—not if I can prevent it. No matter who his father is or what he’s done.”

Jango can barely hear him through the rage swirling through his mind. How dare he. “What I've done—”

But Kenobi isn’t finished. “Have you stopped for a second to consider who he was standing near when he fell? Some ally you have.”

Jango itches for his helmet. He knows Yan was not a respectable ally. He had held Kenobi captive, after all, and Jango is certain the experience hadn’t been pleasant. But to insinuate that Jango had intentionally put Boba in danger—

Kenobi continues again. “Perhaps Boba was fine, this time, but do you even think about the others? The life they are living?”

The others. As if Kenobi has room to talk, when his people are the ones who are ill-equipped to lead an army, who will lead the clones to their deaths, who will—

Jango’s thoughts trail off as a feeling twists in his chest. The clones. It has been so easy to see them as pieces on a game board. To convince himself that they don’t matter. To ignore what they may be going through, because they are not Boba. They are not his.

“Do you think I care about the opinion of a jetii?” Jango grits out.

Kenobi makes a sound he hadn’t expected from a jetii, a low, mocking noise. “Is my opinion the one you should be worrying about? Ke’ba’juri sa Mando’ade. I thought children were the future.”

Ke’ba’juri sa Mando’ade. The words shake something loose in Jango and he takes several stumbling steps back before he fires up his jetpack and takes off, unable to take the recrimination in Kenobi’s tone, more unable to accept that he might be right.

Jango has every intention of leaving, disappearing back to Mandalore now that his debt is repaid, even though Kenobi has somewhat fouled the whole thing up by insisting there was never a debt. But instead, he sits, and settles back in his own camp, not so far from the two jetii that he can’t keep an eye on them. They’re sitting close together, though Jango is too far to hear what they are saying. But he watches.

Ke’ba’juri sa Mando’ade.

Jango has some thinking to do.

It’s a long, sleepless night. Kenobi doesn’t leave the fire, even as it dies, even as Windu clasps him on the back of the neck before heading off in a different direction. Jango half expects that he’s fallen asleep.

Jango thinks about Cody, the set of his shoulders as he tried to convince Kenobi to accept backup. Thinks of how fiercely Cody had protected the clones who were younger than him on Kamino. Of Kal’s protectiveness over the Nulls. Tervho’s late night training sessions for any clone falling behind. Mij sneaking extra bandages into bunks, for those injuries the clones wanted to keep unreported.

Thinks of Kenobi, darting in front of blasterfire. Listening when Cody made a request. Thinks of how Cody is trying to keep Kenobi safe, in the best way that he can manage given his position. It hasn’t been very long, but Jango recognizes the signs of Cody’s loyalty, though he’s never had it directed at him.

They all got it. Jango had kept his distance, for the benefit of the clones. So he told himself. But what kind of life had he offered them?

Ke’ba’juri sa Mando’ade. How does a jetii—how does Kenobi know what that means?

How does he understand it better than Jango himself?

The clones will never be like Boba. But they are part of him. Jaster would be so disappointed in how little he’s thought of them. Kal’s recrimination, Vhonte’s skepticism. It all takes a clearer shape. His head hurts.

As morning rises, Jango watches as two troopers lead an ad'ika to where Kenobi is sitting, legs crossed. The child looks like the one he’d been protecting the day before. She’s holding hands with one of the clones, hiding a bit behind his leg. Kenobi opens his eyes, smiling. Jango can’t hear what he’s saying, but based on the look of the conversation, Jango would guess he’s speaking Ryl.

Jango is still watching when he feels Cody approach. Cody studies him for a moment, and Jango lets him. Thinks of him with the new shape in his mind. He told himself he kept his distance to protect them, to harden them for battle. And that is still true. Friendship will do no one any favors. But a part of him has always shied away from the knowledge that the clones have been put into the world to serve at the whim of the jetii and the Republic. They haven’t had much say for themselves. And Jango has been complicit. Has orchestrated it. He meets Cody’s gaze.

“CC-2224,” he says.

Cody’s face gives nothing away, save for a twitch of his eyelid. He tilts his head. “It occurs to me that you are protecting the General,” Cody says. “In which case, our interests are aligned, though I would prefer to know your motivation.”

“My motivations are my own,” Jango says.

“Still,” Cody says. “What are your further intentions toward the General?”

“Are you creating a threat assessment?” Jango asks. Cody doesn’t answer. Jango shifts his eyes to look at Kenobi. The small Twi’lek has handed over a bowl of stew, and she’s pointing insistently at it. “I have no intention of harming the jetii,” Jango says.

“That’s not what I asked.” Cody follows his gaze. “Her name is Numa,” he says. “Waxer and Boil found her, and she’s been helping us. She calls them her brothers.”

Jango doesn’t need to know the details. Numa abandons the food to Kenobi and starts climbing up one of their legs. Boil’s? Kenobi is smiling. The other clone—Waxer?—has his eyes fixed on Kenobi, something awed in the look. Jango frowns. “Brothers,” he muses.

“Just like that,” Cody says. “You never know where you might find your family.”

Jango whips his head to look back at Cody, but Cody just blinks at him, impassive. Jango knows the clones refer to each other as brothers. Vode. Cody had encouraged it. Ke’ba’juri sa Mando’ade. He needs to start somewhere. He straightens. “Reconnaissance. Assistance.”

Cody’s jaw tightens. “Why the General?”

“I could ask you the same question,” Jango counters.

“My answer should be somewhat more obvious,” Cody grits out.

Jango almost smiles. There’s the fiery Cody he remembers from Kamino, hidden underneath the protocol. “I don’t think so,” he says. Cody waits him out, and Jango looks back to Kenobi. The bowl of stew is set on the ground. Jango weighs his options, and comes to a decision. “I don’t know how much you know about Geonosis,” he says. “Boba had a fall. Kenobi caught him.”

Cody’s eyes widen, just a bit. He sets his jaw and nods once. “Your continued presence will be tolerated provided your intentions do not include harming the General,” he says.

Kenobi is lifting Numa into the air using his jetii magic. She laughs as he settles her on his shoulder. Jango swallows and looks away. “They don’t,” Jango says.

Cody studies him for a minute longer. “I’ll be sure to let the gunners know, so they don’t fire upon you if you come across us in atmo,” he says. Jango wonders if he’s making a joke, or if he’s serious. He can’t tell yet. Does Cody even make jokes? Cody stares a beat longer. “Our ship is the Negotiator.”

Jango doesn’t think his commentary on the name of the ship would be well-received, so he just nods. “Understood,” he says, and turns away. He doesn’t have much to pack up, and it’s time he headed back to Mandalore. He’ll need to talk to Kal.

When Jango gets back to Enceri, he can see Boba on the far edges of the settlement. It looks like he’s running through an obstacle course with several taller figures. It’s probably the Nulls, so Jango doesn’t approach, just watches from a distance.

He feels Kal watching him, but doesn’t say anything for a long moment. “Ryloth a success, then?” Kal asks.

Jango huffs a laugh. “I thought we were square, but the jetii said there was no debt,” he says. Kal raises an eyebrow. “Can you clear a debt if the other party never acknowledges it?” he wonders. He’s not sure, and finds himself abruptly annoyed with Kenobi all over again.

Kal raises his shoulders. “Jetii,” he says. “Square enough, then, if you think so. What’s next, then?” Kal asks.

Jango exhales a long breath, watching Boba with the Nulls. “Ke’ba’juri sa Mando’ade,” he says.

He can practically feel Kal’s shock. “Been a long time since you talked about the Resol'nare,” he says.

Jango grunts.

“What brought this on, then?” Kal asks. His tone holds more scorn than curiosity. “Looking for purpose?”

“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you,” Jango says.

“Try me,” Kal says.

“I don’t want the jetii to be right about me,” Jango admits. “I don’t want to have to think about what it means, that I’ve abandoned all of them.”

Kal eases closer to Jango. “We all could have made better choices,” he allows. “But what’s this about the jetii?”

“He called me out,” Jango says. “For being worried about Boba but not the others.”

“He’s not wrong,” Kal says.

Jango knew this was the reaction he’d get from Kal. It’s what Kal’s been alluding to for years. “I don’t know what I’ve been thinking,” he says.

Kal gives a low chuckle, more exasperation than amusement. “Maybe a different kind of debt, then,” he says. “Maybe not to the jetii after all, especially if he’s not looking to square up.” He nudges Jango in the shoulder. “A few of us only signed those contracts to keep an eye on you, at first. And then—” he trails off, gaze turning to the Nulls in the distance.

And they all figured it out, and Jango kept locking himself away. “I’m not who I was,” Jango reminds him.

“No,” Kal says. “But we march on anyway, don’t we?”

He’s been receiving increasingly urgent missives from Nala Se, and can’t avoid a trip back to Kamino before he tries to find the 212th again. He slips into the city, his quarters quiet without Boba, and walks through the corridors. He doesn’t recognize any of the clones; most of the ones he knew have already been deployed to ships and battalions throughout the galaxy. If he’s honest with himself, he wasn’t likely to recognize them anyway.

He avoids the Togruta jetii, making his way to the med-bay, where Mij is hunched over a datapad. “Oh, you’re alive,” Mij says, without looking up. “Nala Se’s been looking for you, poking around.”

Poking around. Jango tucks that thought away for later. “Worried, Mij?” he asks. He relaxes a little, leaning against a wall. “Checking up on me?”

Mij grunts. “It’s not like it’s hard to get a signal out.”

It’s supposed to be quite hard, actually, but that’s never stopped Mij before. Jango grins. He supposes with the war starting, the terms of the contracts are mostly void anyway. Except his, of course. He sits down, stretching out his arm. “What are you still doing here?” he asks.

Mij puts the datapad down, staring at him. “I have patients,” he says slowly. He scowls at Jango’s frown. “Don’t start with me, Jan’ika.” He starts gathering instruments, swiping at Jango’s skin to clean it before beginning to collect samples. Nala Se prefers to do it herself, but Jango has Mij do it when he can.

“No, it’s not that,” Jango says. “I just, I’ve been thinking lately.”

Mij snorts, drawing blood into a vial. “That's why you’re here, then? You hurt yourself? Strain something up there?”

Jango kicks at Mij’s chair. “I may be taking some more long jobs away from Kamino,” he says.

“You afraid of the jetii they have here? Or just chasing your own?” Mij doesn’t look up, but Jango can see his smirk.

“He’s not my jetii,” Jango says.

“He’s Cod’ika’s though, isn’t he?” Mij says. Something about Mij’s tone makes Jango scowl. “Always thought Cody had a good head on his shoulders. Ka'ra knows where it came from.” He tucks away his samples, bandaging Jango’s arm.

“Thanks a lot,” Jango complains.

Mij waves a hand, dismissing him. “You’ll figure it out. You always do.”

“Jango,” Nala Se says, catching him in the hall as he tries to slip back to his ship. “You’ve been gone for quite some time.”

Jango straightens. “Medic Gilamar has taken the required samples,” he says. He’s learned to read the signs of disapproval in the Kaminoans, and he fights the urge to smirk.

“You know we don’t find his area to be sterile,” Nala Se says.

“I’d like to hear you say that to his face,” Jango tells her.

She tilts her head. “I hope you are planning to remain, in case we need something more,” she says.

Jango grits his teeth. “The jetii have taken control of the army,” he says. “My stipulation was that I don’t have to reside here past the start of the war. And I was quite clear that I would not live on this planet once the jetii arrived.”

Nala Se twines her fingers together. “We should discuss this with Tyranus. I have a check-in scheduled. He’s been asking about you.”

Jango scowls, because he can’t talk his way out of that. Should be the last one, though, now that he’s leaving the planet. Nala Se and Lama Su can chat with him all they like. He inclines his head, allowing Nala Se to lead him to the communication center.

Tyranus picks up sooner than Jango expects him to, his face hooded and shadowed as always.

“Jango Fett,” he says. “I wasn’t sure if you made it off Geonosis alive. I heard there was quite the situation.”

“Nothing I couldn’t handle,” Jango says. “Nala Se has suggested you might disagree with my interpretation of the end of the residency clause in my contract.”

Tyranus pauses, folding his arms. “You do seem to have a liberal interpretation of the ending of a contract,” he says.

Jango shakes his head, feeling a pain behind his eyes. He can’t get off this planet fast enough. “What are you talking about?”

“Oh, nothing you need to worry about,” Tyranus says.

Jango grits his teeth as his headache sharpens. “Training is no longer a requirement now that the jetii have taken over the army,” he says. “Therefore, my continued presence is unnecessary. I will send Nala Se further genetic samples if she requires them.”

“That seems reasonable,” Tyranus says, placid. “Wouldn’t you agree?”

Nala Se clearly very much does not agree, but she inclines her head, looking sour.

“Very well, then,” Tyranus says. “Take care not to stray too far. I would hate to lose track of you. I look forward to our next encounter.”

Jango hopes to never encounter him again, actually. “Best be off, then,” Jango says, sidling to the back of the room.

Nala Se curls her fingers into fists. “Very well, Jango,” she says, and turns back to Tyranus as Jango reaches the doorway. “We are working on increasing the effectiveness of your requested modifications,” she says. “I believe we have managed it, though it will take staggered scanning of the products to measure any cognitive impact.”

Something about what she says makes the pain flare behind his eyes, but the door slides shut on the conversation before he can hear Tyranus’ response. He wants to consider it more, but by the time he gets back to his ship, he can’t remember why he thought it was important.

He’s through with Kamino and his debt is—technically—cleared, but he can’t stop thinking about what Kenobi said. About Cody practically inviting him to join missions. And Mij, hinting at developing a relationship with Cody.

It’s hard to reconcile in his head, the idea of helping the army when he still feels such rage at the jetii. But now he can’t stop thinking about the clones getting caught in the crossfire. And, well. Kenobi remains a puzzle, flying in the face of everything he believes jetii to be. It’s easier, then, to decide to track and help, like he’d said to Cody. To start to make things better. And he certainly doesn’t want to help any other jetii.

Kenobi stares at him for a long few minutes when Jango appears for the first time since Ryloth, until a droid stumbles their way and the moment is broken. After that, Kenobi doesn’t seem bothered when Jango appears to disable a shield generator or take down a squad of battle droids. After one mission, Jango follows him to a debrief just to see if they’ll make him leave. They don’t.

He pushes it further after another mission, when Cody and the others file out of the briefing room and Kenobi lingers over the holo-table. “Thank you for the help, Jango,” Kenobi says. When Jango makes no move to leave, Kenobi simply shrugs and connects a call. “Well, it will certainly make things interesting for them,” Kenobi says. He smiles at Jango, but Jango’s helmet is on. Kenobi holds the smile for a moment before the corner of his mouth tucks down just as the call connects.

“Successful campaign?” the jetii on the other side asks.

“I was rather expecting more of you,” Kenobi says.

It’s Windu on the other end of the call. “Harder to get all of us at once these days,” Windu says. “You’d know that, if you would only—”

“No thank you,” Kenobi cuts in.

Windu’s eyes turn in Jango’s direction, though he knows he’s not close enough for Windu to see. “Something you want to share?” he asks.

Kenobi flicks his eyes over to Jango, almost amused. “There have been some developments,” he allows.

Windu rubs at his forehead. “These missions have seemed to involve a greater degree of collaboration than before. I suppose we’ll discuss the particulars later.”

“If you insist,” Kenobi says. “I’ll send you my after action report, then, if you’d be so kind as to pass it along.”

“I’m sure it will be illuminating,” Windu says.

Jango frowns underneath his helmet. If he didn’t know any better, he’d think these two were teasing each other. He’d never quite expected jetii to have a sense of humor. Kenobi has seemed like an aberration. He shifts closer to the door, and Kenobi raises a hand in farewell.

“Don’t make that face at me,” Jango can hear Kenobi saying to Windu as he leaves.

Chapter Text

The first time he docks his ship on the Negotiator, he’s still half wondering whether or not Cody was serious about telling the gunners not to shoot him out of existence, but he gets clearance and comes in without incident. Cody is the only one waiting for him, helmet under his arm as Jango descends into the hangar bay.

“You found us,” Cody says. His face is as unreadable as ever, and Jango stares silently for a moment, wondering if that’s what his own face looks like. He’s leaving his armor on until he’s a little more sure of his welcome amongst so many clones, and in their territory.

“Not hard to find a ship this big, heading straight for all the worst trouble,” Jango says. Truthfully, he knows it would be more difficult without the intel passed to him from Kal and Vhonte through the Nulls, but he won’t tell that to Cody.

Cody straightens. “The 212th is a valuable resource,” he says. “And General Kenobi—”

“You can spare me the speech,” Jango says. Something about the hint of pride in Cody’s voice makes him twitch. As if he’s proud to think he’s a valuable resource.

Cody scowls, and Jango much prefers that expression. “I’m happy to rescind the authorization,” he says.

Much better. Jango grunts. “Does the jetii know I’m here?”

“Affirmative,” Cody says. “General Kenobi has final say over landings and departures. Especially unexpected ones.”

Interesting, then, that Cody had been the one to practically invite him aboard after the mission on Ryloth. Jango tilts his head.

Cody scowls at him again. “General Kenobi has left much of the day-to-day operation of the ship to my discretion,” he allows.

Of course he has. Jetii don’t know anything about running a ship. Kenobi is wise to let Cody manage things. Jango hadn’t expected him to be so self-aware, but he supposes he should stop being surprised by this jetii. It explains why the 212th is so successful and in demand, if Kenobi is allowing Cody to work to his full potential. Jango just nods.

Cody starts walking, pointing out guest quarters in case he wants them. He’ll stay on his ship, but it’s almost thoughtful that Cody would give him a place here. Even if it’s in a hallway that seems to be devoid of any other sentient life forms. The hallways start to get busier, and Jango realizes that Cody’s leading him to a command center, where Kenobi is leaning over a holo-table, hand rubbing over his beard.

He glances up when they enter. “Commander Cody,” he says, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “I see our guest has landed in one piece. I’m glad you’ve arrived safely, Jango. Welcome aboard.”

Jango frowns. Just like that, he’s welcome aboard? He nods in acknowledgment.

Kenobi’s smile dips a bit. “I have just been finalizing our plans, Commander. I think what we’ve implemented will be successful, especially if we’re going to have more air support than anticipated.” He flicks a glance at Jango.

Jango leans over the table. They’re looking to land through another blockade, taking out a separatist outpost and returning the planet to local control. He scans over the plans. Cody really is very good at strategy. He taps the space on the map he thinks he would be of use, and glances at Cody. It’s odd to plan ahead for these movements, but it does make sense to allow them to account for his presence.

Cody tilts his head, and glances at Kenobi for confirmation. “Will that fit in with your plan, General?” Jango tries not to scowl again. Cody has been trained to defer to a jetii General, but it rankles that he is seeking approval and ceding credit for the plan. It’s never bothered Jango before, but he’s never seen it in action, either. He flexes his fingers.

Kenobi hums. “It does seem to fit,” he says. “I was wondering why we’d left that gap, but the Force does provide, doesn’t it?”

Jango’s fingers curl into fists. Jetii osik. He breathes, trying not to move when Kenobi’s eyes pass over him again.

“Apologies,” Kenobi murmurs. “I will be glad of your help if you wish to provide it, Jango. But for now, I believe it’s past time for latemeal. Have you eaten?”

“I have food on the ship,” Jango grunts. He’s not sure he can take a mess hall full of troopers.

Kenobi hums again. “All right,” he says. “I can show you where the mess is, you are more than welcome. It should be quieter now, I do believe we’ve overshot by quite a bit.”

Cody shifts his weight and Jango glances at the chrono on his HUD. If they’re keeping to standard time, it is quite late, even for latemeal. It might be good to see the mess. And he’s hungry. “All right, then,” he says.

Cody nods. “We’ll confirm details in the morning, General,” he says.

“You’re welcome to join us, of course,” Kenobi says.

Jango knows before he says anything that Cody has no interest in sharing a meal or anything else with him, short of being ordered to do so. Cody shakes his head. “Thank you, General. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Kenobi lets out a huff of air and Jango wonders a bit, at his easy acceptance of Cody’s refusal. At the ease with which Cody had refused. He finds himself curious. “Tomorrow, then,” Kenobi says.

“CC-2224,” Jango says, before Cody has a chance to leave. Cody turns at the door, tilting his head. Kenobi lets out another sound, more of a hiss. Jango doesn’t turn around. “Boba has been asking to come on missions,” he says. “Obviously, he will not be allowed to participate in anything dangerous. But I thought maybe the ship.”

Cody flicks a glance over Jango’s shoulder at Kenobi, and nods at whatever he sees. “It would be nice to see him again. Boba would be more than welcome on the ship,” he says. He looks at Kenobi again, and his mouth flattens into a line. “I might say more welcome than other recent visitors.”

Kenobi huffs again. Jango is glad for the helmet. He’s not sure if he should be annoyed or amused. He still can’t quite tell if Cody is making a joke at his expense. “Boba will be grateful, Cody,” Jango says.

Cody’s eyes flare wide, just a bit, but that’s the only reaction he allows before he dips his head in the direction of Kenobi and disappears into the corridor.

“You’ll find that most of the troopers on this ship have chosen names for themselves,” Kenobi says, tone mild. It has that stuffy edge to it, something that Jango realizes has been missing for the rest of this encounter. “You owe me nothing, of course. But if you plan to remain on this ship for any length of time, you should continue to use their names, if they offer them to you.”

Jango turns to face him, sour at the reminder of owing. “Does it bother you to be reminded that you are working with clones who were given designations instead of names?”

Kenobi waves his hand, clearing the holo-table. “It bothers me when their personhood is called into question or their choices are ignored,” he says. “It does no one any good when they are caught in the crossfire of your enmity toward me.”

Jango pauses for a moment. Well, he had wanted to provoke a reaction from Kenobi. It’s just nothing near the reaction he expected.

Kenobi gestures toward the door. “Latemeal?”

Jango is startled that Kenobi is simply ready to move on from the conversation. He follows, unsure of what to say.

The walk to the mess is uncomfortable, but not nearly as uncomfortable as the meal itself. Kenobi leads him through a line, and he can feel the distrustful gazes of the few clones still remaining in the mess. He finds himself almost grateful for the presence of the jetii, otherwise he’s certain the one cooking the food behind the counter would have poisoned his meal without thinking twice. Kenobi tucks them into a table in the corner, offering Jango the seat with its back to the wall. Jango’s not quite sure it’s on purpose, but he appreciates the unobstructed view of the mess nonetheless. There aren’t many in the mess, true, but Jango is uneasy, facing them without his helmet as he eats.

Later-than-latemeal is a noodle dish, mixed with meat and vegetables. It’s filling and satisfying, if a bit bland. Kenobi has a bowl of his own that he mostly ignores, picking at it in between sips of whatever he’s drinking. The portion granted to him by the servers is noticeably larger than Jango’s, too. He tries not to be annoyed. Do jetii even need food? They probably just live on their magic. This is the second time he’s seen Kenobi fail to eat an offered meal.

“It’s not my place to give you advice about the troopers,” Kenobi says softly, partway through the meal. He raises a hand when Jango visibly bristles. “This will help, though. Seeing them, and being seen. If you are trying to make inroads, that is.” He lowers his hand. “I will not interfere,” he adds. “I know this is something that needs to be worked out between all of you, and I don’t want my advice to sound like a directive.”

Jango’s not quite sure how he knows anything, but Kenobi is right. If he wants to be more involved. Start making amends. He needs to make the attempt. It’s interesting, too, Kenobi’s comments about a directive. “You think they’d play nice with me just because you ordered it?” he asked.

Kenobi takes a long sip of his drink. “I try very hard not to order anything,” he says carefully. “But there are a great many of them that would put my interests above their own, and that’s not fair to them.”

Jango scowls. Kenobi is still not making any sense. “They’re supposed to be loyal to you,” he says. “They’re doing their job.”

Kenobi flinches, minutely. He closes his eyes. “You don’t have to remind me,” he murmurs, and flexes his fingers around his mug. He opens his eyes again. “I understand your hostility,” he says.

Jango looks down at his plate, feeling his heart clench, his rage rising. “I’m not sure you could,” he says. “Jetii don’t have feelings like this.”

Kenobi pushes his bowl away from himself. It’s still mostly full. “It is true that Jedi endeavor to avoid feelings such as hate or—”

“I don’t need a lecture, jetii,” Jango growls. “Or your pity.”

Kenobi’s eyes, guarded already, shutter further. “Of course you don’t,” he says.

Jango’s surprised he’s backing down so quickly; he’d been so quick to defend the clones before. Kenobi moves as if to stand, and Jango holds up a hand. Jango certainly doesn’t need Kenobi’s pity. But he’s the closest thing Jango has to an ally on this ship, and no matter what Cody says, Jango knows Kenobi has final say on his continued presence. “I don’t have a distaste toward you, specifically,” he admits.

Kenobi stills, folding his arms across his chest. “High praise. Toward my people, then. Which is much the same thing. Not that I blame you in the least.” Jango frowns at him. There is no way Kenobi is the same as any other jetii. It’s the only possible explanation for his absurd behavior. Kenobi relaxes a little, almost smiling. “Are you always so unpleasant to people who are trying to be nice to you?”

“Yes,” Jango says, without thinking. It startles a laugh out of Kenobi. Jango is glad to have surprised him for once.

Kenobi gives him a cursory tour after the mess, pointing out the ranges and the training rooms. “They spend quite a bit of time here,” he says, a hint of a smile on his face. “Someone rigged it so that Range Besh assigns point values for accuracy and speed, at any number of distances.” Jango pokes his head in, unsurprised that Cody’s name is atop the leaderboard. Kenobi follows his gaze, and his smile widens. “He told me it was meant to be motivational,” he says.

Jango snorts. “I’m sure,” he says. He scans, but sees no hint of Kenobi’s name on the scoreboard. “Ever tried your hand at it? Or do you not use blasters?”

Kenobi’s face loses the smile. “I’ve always found blasters rather crude,” is all he says, leading Jango to the next room. Well, that tracks, for a stuffy jetii. The training rooms are well-equipped, with mats and obstacles and heavy bags. The clones using the rooms stand at attention when they come in, and it never stops being odd, seeing so many expressions on faces that mirror his. They don’t seem to know whether to look at him or Kenobi, and Kenobi nods his head at them before leading Jango to other parts of the ship.

Kenobi doesn’t exactly avoid him, after that. Jango gets the sense that he’s very deliberately offering space. Jango doesn’t want to impose on the clones, mostly because they all stop what they’re doing when he walks in a room, unsure of what he wants. It cuts into whatever tasks or training they’re doing, and he doesn’t know how to reach out in a way that doesn’t feel like a trap. He starts exploring more on his own, instead, or tucking his head down and heading to a heavy bag, working out a spar in a way that doesn’t require participation from anyone else. He finds he quite enjoys Range Besh and manages to top Cody's score, though he will never admit to how many attempts it took.

Once in a while, he trails after Kenobi to the mess, finding it more comfortable there with someone else to act as a buffer. Kenobi’s not a half bad dining companion; he makes easy conversation without prying too deep. He’ll walk him to the mess or the salles after a briefing. Kenobi keeps his word and offers no further advice on the clones, though Jango knows that seeing them together helps. And so it gets a little easier to fall into a pattern this way. The clones are a little less wary. The stares are a little less obvious. It helps, but he knows it’s not enough.

It’s a little easier on missions. He sticks to shadowing Kenobi, assuming that at any point during a skirmish, Kenobi will wander off on his own for some foolish purpose. He’s usually right. Kenobi has gotten better about remaining with a squad, and Cody seems to view Jango as an acceptable backup otherwise. Kenobi proves to be a better fighter than he expected, level-headed and a quick thinker. More responsible for their strategies than Jango thought he was. He only witnesses one misstep, on a desolate planet nearly overrun by droids. Kenobi gets startled by the sound of an explosion, and stumbles into a pile of debris. He grips his head for a moment, and Jango steps over to tug him up.

“All right there, Kenobi?” Jango asks.

Kenobi shakes his head as if to clear it. “I’m quite fine,” he says, one hand on his kad’au, the other clenched into a fist at his side. He gestures with his head to Jango, and they keep moving.

It’s later that Jango learns the explosion had killed nearly an entire platoon of clones all at once. The 212th is a strong battalion, and they make it through most of their battles without suffering heavy losses, so this had been a shock. He thinks of Kenobi, holding his hand to his head. He’s wondered if jetii can tell when people die, but perhaps Kenobi had truly just been startled by the sound.

Remembering Kenobi’s pale face, seeing the grim set to Cody’s mouth as they tally their losses, Jango feels sick to his stomach. Even if Kenobi didn’t feel it happen, it had certainly caused him pain. He remembers thinking at the beginning of all of this that he wouldn't have minded if the jetiise felt a little additional pain, on their way to being disgraced by the galaxy. Now, It only takes a moment for him to realize the sick feeling in his stomach is shame.

When he finally gives in to Boba’s pleading and brings him to the ship, Kenobi continues to keep his distance, which Jango appreciates. Cody hasn’t even come to greet him when he docks, this time, and he realizes why when he shows Boba the training room. Cody and Kenobi are sparring—though it looks like Cody is actually teaching Kenobi hand-to-hand. The clones ringing the room are pretending not to watch, but Jango can see how sloppy their movements are, their gazes drawn instead to the lesson in the corner.

It surprises Jango that Kenobi would want to learn something like this from a clone. He thought Kenobi would prefer to just use his kad’au. But if anyone can hone the haphazard wildness he saw firsthand from Kenobi on Kamino, it’s Cody. They are practicing something, Cody clearly telegraphing his movements. They’ve been at it for a while. Cody’s in his blacks and Kenobi has finally shed his voluminous robe. Kenobi seems to have an unhealthy attachment to the thing. He’d been wearing it during their skirmish on Kamino, and Jango can hardly believe it hadn’t dragged him off the landing platform, sodden and unwieldy as it must have been.

Boba’s eyes are wide. “Are Cody and the jetii fighting?” he asks, twitching his hand to his hip. Kal snuck the kid a weapon, then, the pain in the shebs.

“Training, Bob’ika,” Jango says, resting a quelling hand on his shoulder. “The ship is safe. The jetii won’t hurt Cody.”

In fact, the jetii goes flying over Cody’s shoulder, landing with a hard thud on his back. Cody hovers over him, hands still ready, but Jango can see his shoulders stiffen. “Sir?” Cody says.

The tension from the others rises, until Kenobi lets out a sharp laugh. “You got me, Cody,” Kenobi says. “Force, you’re quick.”

“You became distracted,” Cody says. “Situational awareness—”

“I know, I know,” Kenobi says. He drags himself to his feet and his eyes pass over Jango and Boba. “Perhaps that’s enough for today.”

Cody turns his body to the entrance, spotting Jango and Boba as well. “If you say so, sir,” he says. His hand raises in what could be a wave, and Boba tenses under Jango’s hand.

“Can I go, buir?” Boba asks.

Kenobi glances between the three of them, and heads toward the wall, where his robe and kad’au sit. The movement gives a clear angle for Boba to scoot over to Cody, when Jango releases his shoulder. Boba stands at attention under Cody’s assessing gaze before Cody’s mouth twitches and he knocks a fist against Boba’s shoulder. “Been keeping up with your exercises?” he asks.

Jango supposes he shouldn’t be surprised that Cody and Boba are so familiar with each other, even though he’d tried to keep Boba apart from the others. He knows he had his reasons, but—those seem pointless now. Jango is happy to see that Cody was telling the truth about Boba’s welcome on the ship as the others offer their own greetings. It will be good for Boba, who’s already spilling details of what he’s learned from the Nulls.

Kenobi has sidled along the wall, and he nods at Jango as he leaves the room. Jango lifts his hand in acknowledgement, still watching the byplay, a corner of his mouth curling up before he can stop it. Kenobi clears his throat. “Welcome back, Jango,” he says. “I hope Boba enjoys his stay.”

The pattern gets a little easier, after that. He splits his time between the ship and Mandalore. Kal and Vhonte eventually seem willing to spar with him, and they never hesitate to put him through his paces. He’s talking with Kal about the troopers’ armor when he feels a presence looming over his shoulder.

“Republic-issued paint may as well be water,” the new voice says. “Anything they paint on there slides right off. It’s not just lost productivity but one more way the Senate is shortchanging them.”

Jango’s almost afraid to turn around, but Kal is smirking. It’s Ordo behind him. Jango doesn’t like him looming, so he twists his body. “Is that so,” he says.

“Don’t tell me you haven’t noticed,” Ordo says. He flops down on Jango’s other side, penning him in.

Jango feels his shoulders rise. He tries not to look too closely at the plastoid armor the clones wear. “Is there a reason you’re telling me this?” Are you always so unpleasant to people who are trying to be nice to you? Kenobi’s voice rings in his head, and he scowls.

“You must be smart enough to figure out a better question than that, Fett,” Ordo says. “Anyway, we’re hearing some more noise about Concordia, Kal’buir. You said to keep an eye on it.”

Jango scowls, but doesn’t interrupt. Kal turns, smile dropping. “Is it what we thought?” he asks.

“Vizsla’s planning to make a move,” Ordo says. “Now might be our best shot.”

“Best shot at what?” Jango asks. He feels rage rise in him at the mere mention of Pre Vizsla. He’s annoyed at how vague Ordo is being. He knows it’s bait, otherwise Ordo would have saved it for when Kal was alone.

Ordo raises his eyebrows at Kal. Kal shrugs. “You’ll have to make a decision on how involved you want to be, Jango.”

“How long has Vizsla been on Concorida?” Jango demands.

“Wrong question,” Ordo says.

Jango clenches his fists. “Tell me what’s going on,” he says.

Kal nods at Ordo. “Vizsla is the governor of Concordia,” he says.

“What,” Jango snarls. He stares at Kal. “No one told me?”

“How were we supposed to tell you?” Kal asks. “Anytime we brought up Mandalore you bit our heads off or made yourself scarce.”

Jango pushes his fists into his thigh. Kal’s not wrong. “Is Kyrze an idiot?” he asked.

Ordo makes a rude noise, but Kal raises a hand. “Pacifist,” Kal says. “Trying to keep peace. Kyr’tsad was exiled there after the clan wars; Kyrze gave them governing rights as a condition of them staying there. He supports her in public. Should have known better than to take him at his word.”

“He’s going to double-cross Kyrze,” Ordo says. “Kyr’tsad is growing under her nose. He wants to ally with the Separatists and take over the system. A lot’s at stake if we don’t stop him.”

“A lot’s at stake if we do,” Kal points out.

Jango is no fan of Satine Kyrze. But Kyr’tsad—“What are you planning?”

“How involved do you want to be?” Kal’s eyes are serious. “Taking down Vizsla—that might mean something you’re not ready for.”

“That doesn’t mean I want to sit by while Vizsla destroys the system,” Jango says.

“We have plans,” Kal says. “They don’t have to include you. But I’d like them to.”

It’s an olive branch. One that Jango would be a fool to refuse. But the implications of it—he can tell it wouldn’t just stop at Concordia. If they’re successful, they’d have to get involved with Kyrze. If they’re successful—he grips his head in his hands.

He had reclaimed his armor and killed Tor Vizsla after breaking free of his enslavement. He hadn’t expected Pre to emerge, resurrecting Kyr’tsad. It feels like another one of his failures, something he’s allowed to fester while he hides from the rest of the galaxy. Another reason he’s not fit to be Mand’alor, not anymore.

Ordo stands up. “We’ll keep working at it,” he says.

“Ordo,” Jango says, as he’s leaving. Ordo turns. “What kind of paint do you suggest?”

Ordo flashes him something that might almost be a smile. “There’s the right question, Fett.”

Kal clasps him on the shoulder as he leaves. Jango tries not to lean into the touch.