Archive of Our Own

Jedi Master Mace Windu stands barefoot inside one of the Crechés at the Jedi Temple. He made a habit of visiting every once in a while while he was a senior padawan and wasn't willing to let this particular habit go.

In font of him, stood Docent Vant with a small Mon Calamari in her arms. Depa is off somewhere cooing at younglings.

"I'm hoping for some new robes, the little ones always grow up way-"

Mace loves going to the Creché as much as the next knight. With their youngest, the Light seems to shine ever so brightly. Docent Vant remembers Mace when he barely reached her knees, all those years ago.

"Docent Vant?"

She sidesteps and turns around. Mace shifts to side a little to see better.

Little Kiffar boy. Is this the one Tholme brought in?

"Quinlan dear, is something wrong?"

Quinlan doesn't look so sure.

"Its Obi-Wan. He is gone again."

Pardon?

Vant stills for a beat. Mace has to admire her shields. All Crechémasters have iron-tight hold on their emotions, since the little ones are not so anchored in the Force and often feel things a little more than adults.

"Oh my, can you show me?"

She turns to Mace before he gets a chance to ask anything.

"Hold this."

Little Mon Calamari is now in Maces arms, blinking at him.

"Hello."

He sets after Docent Vant, who is being led by the little Kiffar. They make it into one of the separate rooms where the beds are. As much as Jedi kids like to sleep in dog-piles, in winter the beds are non negotiable when the floors get too cold.

One one of the beds, sits a little boy. Back straight, shoulders set, hands resting on his tights. The boy is hardly a toddler, yet he sits like a Knight in deep meditation. Its eerie to see a child this young in such rigid position.

Vant comes closer, and little Quinlan stands next to Mace. He has little mittens on his hands.

The boy on the bed, Obi-Wan was it?, has a vacant expression, blue eyes empty and nosebleed running down his chin. The collar is dirty on one side, blood already dried.

Quinlan shifts on his feet next to Mace, who offers him a hand. The Mon Calamari doesn't even stir.

The Kiffar stares at the offered hand for a few seconds, before he takes it an squeezes Maces fingers through the mittens.

Vants hands are now hovering over the boys temples.

"Come on sweetheart, we went over this the last time, you know how to come back."

Quinlan squeezes his fingers tighter.

"I don't remember this one from the last time I was here."

"Oh? Obi-Wans been here maybe for the last three months. He came just a few weeks after Knight Tholme came with little Quinlan there."

Another squeeze. Tholmes boy then.

Mace reaches out in the Force, looking for the boy in font of them.

Colors. Currents. The Unifying Force shines around the boy. Could this be…

"Is he having a vision?"

"The healers suspect so. He alternates between those and just plain seizures. It happened a few times before, freaked half of the kids out on the first time. Shaak said she fished him out of Force nexus on Stewjon."

Shaak. Stewjon. That rings a bell in Maces head.

A nexus?

"He's been sick a few times. Didn't tell anyone a thing and just collapsed. Been here all three months and still not a word."

"Mute? Or language barrier?"

"I think a speech delay. He understands fairly well when spoken to, he just doesn't speak back. First few weeks were a lot on him. Shaak said they don't speak Basic at Stewjon, so we had to relay at the Force a tad more when talking to him. He's a sweet kid, just a little overwhelmed at times. Shaak speaks to him when she comes by, but she said he didn't respond even to his own people when they tried to talk to him."

"So he doesn't answer even to his Finder? What about other kids?"

"Not eve-"

A shatter-point appeared above the boy.

Blue, vacant eyes snapped onto Mace.

The migraine that bloomed behind his eyes was glorious.

Mir loved the night shift. She truly did. Night shift meant she got to be home and have dinner with her kid, their customers were less drunk and therefore less nasty.

There really was no "quiet days" when you worked the reception of a brothel on Corusant, but days like today came close. Two days ago, her shabby radio reported that a strong rainstorm was planned for the planet, and warned the residents to stay inside if possible.

This of course meant, that the upper levels got a rainstorm, but as the water trickled down into the lower levels, something, somewhere on the way down fucked up and now the outside was flooded to about a knees height of a standard human. Their establishment was elevated from the street, but two of their three stairs were submerged in dirty water.

At least the inside was clean.

The side alley they shared with the strip-club next door wasn't so lucky, so the communal trash shute and the beloved ashtray were out of commission. Hence, no smoke breaks. No smoke breaks make for angry employees.

Her work comm cracked.

"Mir, we have a kid coming up."

"Hear you."

For a second, she heard the main door open and close, allowing the outside sounds and cold inside, followed by sound of light steps.

A boy appeared.

Mir grabbed her comm.

"That is a child." she hissed to the security.

"I just told you so."

To Lio, their security, anyone under the age of thirty standard was a kid. But the boy coming towards Mir was a child, probably even little younger than her own kid.

He stopped in front of the reception and pushed himself up ever so slightly, so at least his eyes were above. Small, wet and positively filthy from the outside elements. Fantastic. Mir will have to mop the floors again.

"Hello. Could i please stay her for the night?"

Trembling, squeaky voice and posh, high Corusanti accent. Fuck the night shift actually.

"Kid, this is a brothel."

"I know. Please. I have credits." A thin, dirty hand pushed forward a few credit chips.

"I don't want your credits. You cant be here. You have to be and adult to rent a room here, and you don't look old enough to have and ID."

"Please, just for one night."

Mir sighed.

"I don't want to be outside tonight."

"This is a brothel. There are a few cheap motels up street where you could sleep. "

"I already went to those motels. They sent me out. Please."

Kids chin was trembling now, he was getting teary eyed. He sounded a little slurred.

"There is a Jedi sanctioned Republic shelter about half an hour from here."

"I cant go there. They will look for me."

That got her attention.

"Who will look for you kid?"

"Please, please just for a few hours. I really don't want to sleep outside tonight, I saved up the credits, plea-"

Kid was shaking, definitely on the verge of tears, pleading just for a few hours. His breathing was getting labored and his knuckles were bone white holding onto the counter.

"I don't know where else to go. Ill sleep in the bathrooms, or under the stairs, you wont even know I'm here. Please, I don't want to be outside toni-"

Yup, those were tears.

Mir looked at him. Really looked. A child, her sons age, crying. If something like this happened to him, she would pray that someone, anyone, would take him in for a few hours, especially in a weather like this.

If Enne was here, she would carry him out with her own arms. Mir was blessed with an aching heart which did her no good in a place like this.

A strangled sob.

This will backfire on her massively. She opened up her pad and checked who was with a client tonight.

She called down Yoaanee, who came down fully decked out since it was after all, middle of their workday.

For the average pervert, Yoaanee was a wet dream. Tall, lilac Twi'lek, full clad in shining latex with whips that would make rancorns cry. None of her usual's were on the books today. For the average child, she was the kind of thing you saw in a bad dream.

She was pissed, since there was no smoke break and she was called down for something she was not paid to do.

The boy was trying to dry his tear with his wet hands and getting more dirty in the process.

Mir was tired.

"That is a child."

Yoan never really let go of her thick Ryl accent.

"Yeah. Take him up to 107, make sure he showers and put him to bed."

Yoan just glanced between Mir and the boy.

"Are you fucking with me?"

"Yoan, lis-"

"Why are you fucking with me?" Yoan demanded, more agitated than usual.

"That is a child. This is a whorehouse. We are prostitutes. If the cops came in, they would shut down this whole place, union or not. Why is he even inside?!"

Mir pulled her down so she could whisper to her.

"I tried to sent him away. They wont let him into the hotels, someone is after him so he won't go into the shelter. I am not a psychopath to sent a child outside when outside looks like that. Take the keys to 107, set him down for a few hours and no one has to know anything. You know damn well the cameras are down."

Yoan scoffed.

"No one wants to go to 107. Who wants to have sex with vomit colored walls around?"

"Exactly. Its a free room, and it will be free for some time."

Yoan just stared at her, then glanced at the kid.

"You soft hearted fool. If Boss catches the wind of thi-"

"Oh? And who will tell her? Are we snitching now Yo? Because I'm sure she would love to know that-"

"You. Yes you. Come. Now."

She snatched the key out of her hands and gave her one last venomous look before walking upstairs. Kid hurried after her.

Mir sat down. Fuck the night shift. Fuck this weather and fuck the senate for not funding shit past the surface levels. This could all be avoided nicely.

Yoan was pissed. She was a dominatrix, not a babysitter. What was Mir thinking, letting a child into a place like this. Parents and their irrational bullshit.

"Got anything to call you?"

A mumble.

"Louder."

Kid said to call him Obi-Wan. Impractical name.

They reached 107 and Yoan unlocked the cursed room. Nothing inside matched, but in a ugly way. She flicked on the lights. It didn't help the room to look better.

"Shoes off at the door. Fresher is it those door. Wash yourself and those clothes. Do you have change?"

Obi-Wan didn't even have some bag. Just the dirty clothes he was in, shoes that were not made for Corusant at all, and something that could once been a curtain that he used as a cloak.

Yoan groaned inside.

"Go. Ill look for something."

Kid scurried away, door slamming after him.

With how dirty he is, she has at least half an hour to find something. Someone in the dressing room ought to have something to wear that isn't lingerie or leather. If not, she can just try next door. Even uniform shirt would do right now.

There were three others getting ready in the back.

"Yoan, what are you-"

"We have a child upstairs, I need clothes for him."

"Yo, you are not funny."

"Do I look funny to you? I need clothes, he is in the shower."

"How big is the child? Why is there a child even? We are a brothel, not daycare."

"Ask Mir, her problems. He is about this big."

Yo gestured somewhere around her waist. She was way too tall even for a Twi'lek, the size of a small church door.

"Could be eh, seven? Ten? Human children age weird. The clothes."

A pair of shorts and a long sleeved blouse with low rack flew at her from two sides.

"This is vulgar."

"Cope. Clothes are clothes, here are socks, just fold the hems over the bows, and he'll be fine."

"Check him for parasites Yoan, so we wont have to burn that monstrosity down after."

Yoan went back upstairs with the clothes and bag from her vanity. Shower was still running. She knocked on the door, set the clothes down and went around the room to put some objects away. Kid didn't need to see all that. Shower stopped. She heard the door open and close behind her back and some movement in the fresher.

Door opened again. Kid reappeared. Now cleaned, trying to pull the sides of the shirt to hide his torso better. Yoan looked him over.

Pale. Like bone pale, flushed cheeks, with face full of light freckles, traveling down his neck. Copper hair, still damp, curling around his jaw and over his eyebrows. Light eyes, which refused to look at Yoan, narrow shoulder, thin forearms and calves.

Shorts managed to go just over his knees, rest was covered by the socks that were still way too big for him. He was clutching his wrist, and limped a little.

Yoan wasn't impressed.

"Come here, Ill check you for fleas and then you can sleep."

Kid didn't move.

"I know I may look like it, but I'm not in the habit of eating children."

Yoan wasn't funny. Her coworkers were right.

He shuffled forward.

The only place for the kid to sit that wasn't the bed was the chair across the bed.

This was a bad joke. Yoan needed her smoke. Fuck this weather.

Mace Windu was having a wonderful month.

Month ago, a ten years old initiate walked out of the Temple in the middle of the night and no one was able to locate him since. They only knew he was alive because his friends were able to feel him in the Force.

The dressing down the Temple guards received from Cin was one for the history books.

Tax season was around the corner and he was missing about half of the paperwork he actually needed. Doing paperwork on time wasn't the Jedi way.

His bones ached from the rain. Who schedules a monsoon this time of the year?

Yesterday morning, the Jedi temple received an anonymous tip about a group of children being held somewhere in the Business District.

This was reported to Senate and raised a wave of accusations and rage.

A few Jedi Shadows reported sightings of prominent Mandalorians in the lower levels, who seemed to be on a hunt for something.

Mandalorian business in Mandalorian sector was purely Mandalorian business. Mandalorian business on Republic ground was Republic business and therefore Jedi business.

Mace ended up in a group of knights and Masters selected to deal with the kidnapping of children, while Yaddles little Shadows took the Mandos downstairs on a hunt across the lower levels. Tholme wanted to take his young terror to his first field mission. He was denied.

They located the children quickly.

As of right now, Mace was face to face with a feral looking boy who's knowledge of Basic didn't span beyond "fuck you" and "republic scum."

The three other children were able to give names of guardians and planets of origins to the Knights and Medi-Corps members, which left this feral one the only they were unable to contain and return to his guardians.

He resorted to growling at Mace, circling him like and agitated hound. Mace did not want to pull out his lightsaber at a child, no matter how dangerous it tried to appear. Instead, he reached out to the Force and was met with something. He was mildly Force sensitive.

The boy stilled, irises shrinking. He must have felt it then.

The boy pounced. Mace felt his finger make contact with the skin between the boys eyebrows and his suggestion taking place.

Sleep.

Obi-Wan was still asleep. Under Mir's hand, his skin was flushed, forehead warm. His breaths were shallow and Mir could see he curled up to save his body heat. The thin satin sheets didn't offer much warm to the boy and even in his sleep, he was shaking.

Its been seven hours, Mir's shift ended half hour ago. She went to check on the kid, hoping to see him out. She couldn't, not in this state. Her next shift started in eighteen hours. She needed some medical advice. She needed Oiré.

The flooding outside got better overnight, so the alley should be walkable. Mir walked downstairs and picked up a trash bag on her way.

The alley was walkable indeed. Yoan was standing outside with a death stick and speaking to one of the Pantoran girls from next doors in a big, glamorous fur coat. Yoan spared her a glance as she went to throw the trash out.

On her way back, she inserted herself to their conversation. Yoan glared at her. She addressed the stripper.

"Is Oiré in tonight?"

"Should be."

"Could you ask him to come over on his break? I need some help with something."

"This about the child?"

Snitch.

Mir didn't even look at Yoan.

"Yes."

"He is pissed tonight."

"From what I heard, he is pissed every night."

"Ain't that right." a giggle, "His break should be soon, I'll ask."

"Thank you. Leave the door opened for him."

Yoan just snarled.

Oiré stomped in within fifteen minutes, pissed off indeed. The young Pantoran and Yoan could be twins when it come to attitude. Al-thou Mir suspected Oiré was more tired than irritated most of the time. Medical student by the day, server by the night. When he slept wasn't her problem.

Mir led him upstairs to 107.

Oiré stared dumb folded at the body in the bed.

"I thought Ali was joking about a child. You people are wrong in the head down here."

Oiré roused the boy awake to check him over. He was met with some panic, but Obi-Wan calmed down quickly. Kid was awake, but just barely. He was docile when Oiré sat him up to check him and answered questions in mumbles and syllables. He slurred out a name of some medicine that Oiré never heard before and didn't bother explaining what it was for.

Oiré sent Mir away to fetch him the emergency med kit. He rolled up the sleeves and lo and behold.

An angry, infected bite mark. No wonder kid had a fever.

"Do you know what bit you?"

"Hm."

"Kid. Cmon. What did this."

"Akk."

"When?"

"Days."

Not good.

Kids eyes suddenly snapped wide open and he stilled for exactly a beat before, they rolled back and he started seizing. Oiré grabbed his forearms just as he started to trash around violently.

The light flickered once. Light bulb might need changing, not that it would help this place.

An epilepsy? Or some other type of seizure? This was getting worse. The kid swung himself forward, his skull catching Oirés shoulder. A pained whine left his lips. Then he just deflated into his arms, breath stuttering.

Oiré checked his head. No bumps.

Mir came back. They wrapped his hands with bacta and poured some painkillers into him. Oiré caught Mir up.

"Something warm to eat, something warmer to sleep under. He needs actual help. Call for a medic, the Jedi should have spare. He's on some medicine that I never heard of before. Fever is most likely caused from infection. No wonder he was desperate to get inside. Get him out of here and get him actual help for fucks sake."

Back in his own turf, Ali pressed to his back.

"They really have a child in there?"

"Yeah, just not for long."

Kal was getting impatient. Jango was gone for three weeks now, Jaster was losing his mind. When they finally get their hands for whoever was responsible for this, Kal will skin them. They tracked Jango to Corusant, but the lower levels were unbearable. The flooding hindered them, and Kal was sure someone was pulling them around by their noses. Yet.

They were so close. he could feel it in his bones.

His group fanned out to cover more ground and Kal got young Myles. Friend of Jango, who was getting desperate too. Right now, they were face to face, waiting in some alley. Kal took his helmet down. The air was so humid and smelled like fumes and vomit. Corusant was vile.

Some intel came in in the morning, Jedi upstairs were dealing with some big political bullshit. A few of them were spotted running around the Business District. Kal didn't care, they had a kid to find.

A comm ringed. Not his.

"Might wanna pick that one up kid."

Myles mumbled something, embarrassed. He turned away from Kal and hit receive.

A small holo- is that a hooker?- appeared. Kids these days. Always something with them.

"Darling, long time no see. I have something for you."

Kal didn't heard the kids answer but it made the girl laugh.

"You said you owe me a favor."

Little gods, what did you do Myles.

"I need you to pick something up. You have medics with your Clan-people right?"

"S-sure. Why?"

"You Mandos like kids?"

Kal snapped upright. What?

"Ari, what are you talking about?"

A giggle. "Come see me, I missed you. I know you are on Corusant, we got some customers of your specimen."

Kal was going to strangle someone. They were on a mission here.

The call ended. Myles tried to call back. She didn't pick up.

"A child? Could she have Jango?"

Jango was a little too old to be called a child now. Jaster would disagree. Sixteen was old enough to handle a gun and go on missions.

Speak of the devil…

Kal's own comm hummed. A holo of Jaster blinked back at him. He looked deflated.

"Mand'alor. Any news?"

"Got a call from Kryze. Some Kyr'tsad movement near Keldabe. Burned down a town, snatched up kid from a prominent family, he called in a favor. I have to get back with some men to deal with them. We are going to split, I'm heading back, Priest and his team are going to stay behind, till I come back. Where you want to be is your call."

Jaster was a man of principles. He took his favors seriously, and often his personal doings were not priority. It must have pained him to abandon his post, especially when they were this close to his ad. Kal would follow him to Wild Space and back if he had to. Priest was competent to hold fort here.

"I'm coming with you."

"I expected. Were leaving from Little Keldabe in two hours. Wrap up, collect your team and be on time."

Kal looked over to Myles.

"We have one errand to run, but well be back by then."

"Be on time."

"Lek, Alor."

The call ended.

He turned to Myles, informing him of the change of plans and relayed the orders to the rest of his men.

Myles said he going to the bar to see his stripper either way, so might as well tag along. Kal smirked.

"Damn kid, a stripper on speed-dial?"

The voice modifier didn't help to hide the groan.

The Bar wasn't that far. Myles talked to the bouncer who let them in with no problems. Kal was never more thankful for his filters. They found Ari quickly. The Pantoran got chatty with Myles and Kal got a chance to really look around the place.

Kal was no stranger to pleasure houses and seedy bars. Its just the ones on Corusant were all so… kitsch-y. Neon lights, durasteel all over, smoke and heavy perfume to cut the smell of lower levels. The strippers all shared a tattoo. Eventually Myles flagged him to follow.

They went behind one of the bars and to the back, into a dirty alley where Ari knocked on a different doors. A pissed off Twi'lek with heavy accent opened.

"About fucking time."

They were rushed inside another establishment and led by the cursing woman upstairs. It took Kal a little longer to realize he was in a brothel. How did Myles know these people, and when did he get to know them? Kal was sure that the last time Myles was on Corusant, he was still underage by the Republic laws.

The Twi'lek let them into one of the ugliest rooms Kal ever got the displeasure of walking into and flicked on the lights.

On the fugly bed, curled under a fur coat was a child. Alarms rang in Kal's head. This wasn't Jango. Myles walked closer while Kal looked around.

There was another Pantoran in the room, who went to trade curses withe stripper immediately, and a older woman holding some steaming box of something that could be soup. Her eyes widen at the sight of them.

"This is your solution? Mandalorians?"

"Yes Mandalorians. They have medics! And they like children! You heard Oiré, he needs help!"

The angry Twi'lek turned to the woman.

"And you said he someone was after him since he refused to go to the Jedi clinic! He can't stay here for much longer, too many people know and we could all lose our jobs if the feds come by!"

What did Myles got himself into?

Said Pantoran was hovering over the child in the bed, pulling down one glove to touch the kids forehead. Everyone around was just hurling insults and making unnecessary noise. As if his head wasn't hurting enough before.

Kal had enough.

"Could somebody kindly explain, what is going on here?"

The arguing stopped.

The older woman put the container on a dresser.

"He came by four days ago, when the flood was still high. Pleaded for a place to sleep, just for a few hours. I tried to sent him away and he got desperate, said he got turned away from the hotels around and that he couldn't go to the Jedi clinic nearby because someone was looking for him. So I let him crash here. When I came to check on him, he was feverish, so I called Oiré-"

She pointed to the bitchy Pantoran boy,

"-to look him over. He found an infected bite and we don't have the right medicine or enough bacta to properly treat it. He also has these, episodes, where he just thrashes around. He's getting worse and worse. None of us have enough money to take him to regular clinic, and by the state of him, I'm worried what kind of people are looking for him."

The stripper spoke up next.

"Yoan was complaining about a child Mir let in, so when Oiré came back, I bothered him to spill. He did. Then today I remembered that certain someone said he owed me after he couldn't pay last time, and that his people liked kids, so I called."

Dammit Myles.

She smiled at Kal.

"So, will you take him?"

Kal walked around her and pushed Myles from the kid. From underneath the coat, the only thing he could see was a flushed face and a shock of red hair. He was young.

"Any idea how old is he?"

"No, said hes name is Obi-Wan."

Myles looked at him.

"He is very sick."

Great to see internal comms were working.

"And I kind of owe her."

Did Kal want to know this story? Did he?

He looked down on the kid. They were right, Mandalorians liked their kids, and looked over them fiercely. Ade were the future. But Myles was too young to look after a foundling, and Jaster just had to halt the search for his own less than hour ago.

Kid needed help, and these folks weren't able to help much more. Their ship to Manda'yaim was set to leave in hour and some.

Damn him. Damn him and his principles.

"We ll take him. Gilamar could use something to focus on on the way home."

Myles nodded. Kal turned to the rest of the room.

"Well take him."

He pushed the coat away and the clothes he was wearing were horrible.

"I cant carry him outside in this."

"His own clothes should be dry by now."

The older woman -Mir was it?- produced a change of clothes that looked equally unpractical, but covered more skin. She woke the kid up and helped him change in his drowsy state, while Kal asked around for a blanked or cloak to wrap the kid in. There were none, so the fur coat will have to do. The angry Twi'lek - that one was Yoan?- took offense, since it was her coat, so he quickly produced a couple of credits to shut her up.

Myles seemed to have some kind of conversation with the stripper and Oiré, which also included credits changing hands.

When Mir was done changing the kid, he wrapped the coat around him to carry him. Kid was so out of it, didn't even fight, just pressed his forehead against Kal's shoulders. Kal thanked them for their company, got bitched at, and they were kicked out to the same alley the came from, where the stripper pressed a quick kiss to Myles's buy'ce. Gross.

They set off towards Little Keldabe. He could feel Jasters stress and Gilamar's ire from miles away. Myles radiated nervousness next to him.

"I-"

"I don't care kid. I decided I don't want to know, when we board, you will go and bother the medics with your bullshit."

"Lek, Alor."

Kal changed his mind. Since Myles feels old enough to have a tab in a strip club, he is old enough to look after a child. Kal had bigger fish to fry.

When they finally got to their ship, Gilamar saw him, buy'ce at hip, and groaned.

"Skirata. What the fuck is that."

Kal showed the kid into Myles's hands and just walked away. Let him clean his own shit.

The mess with the kidnapped kids was more or less over. Kids were looked over, parents were contacted, Senatorial staff complicit in this was arrested. The only thing left was the unclaimed feral boy sleeping in the Halls of Healing.

Mace stood in the door of the room and watched kids chest raise and fall. They had to sedate him after a padawan ended with a black eye and no one knew what to do with him. He didn't speak Basic, didn't answer when spoken to in the other dozen languages they tried and when Mace tried to communicate via Force, he got charged at. So, now he was sedated and restrained.

There was also a plethora of large shatter-points hanging over the kids head. This was no good.

Where are your parents kid? And who are you?

Based on the fact that all the other kids were from prominent families in Mid Rim, this was probably also a son of politician or other person in power. But who? They found no match in the Senate database and no ransom note. One of the other kids said he responded to "Jango" but had no idea where he came from, just that he fought back the most.

Kid stirred.

Mace walked over and stood at the foot of his bed.

Kids eyes opened up and Mace felt the alarm in the Force. Pair of eyes found him and he begun to trash around immediately. Mace stood calm.

"Jango."

A bewildered look.

"My name is Jedi Master Mace Windu. You are in the Halls of Healing in the Jedi Temple on Corusant."

He tried to push some imagines with the Force as he spoke, hoping they would come to some kind of understanding.

"We are looking for your parents. It is not in our intention to harm you."

The trashing started again. Great.

A healer walked in.

"He's awake? Great, I was hoping to get some testing done, maybe we'll get some things from the blood results and-"

She stopped and looked at the trashing boy.

"I'm going to get bitten, aren't I?"

"Probably so. I'll sent for some food, maybe he's just hungry."

"Thank you Master Windu. May the Force be with you."

"As with you."

Mace stepped out to flag down a padawan. Instead, he was met with Master Yaddle and Grandmaster Yoda in the hall.

"Masters. To what do I owe the pleasure."

"To see the boy, I was hoping to."

"Might want to keep some distance Grandmaster. He probably already bit the healer inside."

"Hmm. Fond of my fingers am I. Distance, I can keep."

As Yoda went inside, Mace turned to Yaddle.

"Some curious information came, from our eyes downstairs."

Mace found out Master Yaddle was the head of the Shadows months ago, by and accident. He may have a clearance to know and access a lot of information around the Temple, but as far as he knew, this knowledge was restricted to Council members.

"A big part of the Mandalorians who we were monitoring regrouped and left Corusant early this morning. Not all of them, but substantial amount."

Mace raised a single eyebrow.

"Any sight of our missing initiate while they were at it?"

Yaddle shook her head.

A scream rang from behind the doors.

Prominent Mandalorians planet side. A kid who spoke unknown language and was hostile to Jedi. Mace closed his eyes.

Sweet Force. Please not this.

"You think… our unclaimed child may be one of theirs?"

Yaddles eyes twinkled.

Yoda came back, pleased for whatever reason.

Mace still had taxes to do. Please just a give him a week.

His migraine disagreed.

Yaddle cackled at his misery.

The were currently only two people inside the Temple who spoke Mandalorian at least semi-fluently. Master Nu and Master Dooku. Mace couldn't decide which one of them he would like to see speaking to a child less. If the child was even Mandalorian. Mace really hoped not.

The bet fell on Jocasta, so Dooku it is.

Said Master was exited in the end, or as much as someone as Dooku could get exited, to put his studies of Mando'a to use. Typically, when a Jedi meets a Mandalorian on mission, there is rarely time to exchange words, especially if they are trying to kill one another. Holonet was not an option, since the side of it that conversed in Mando'a was behind a nice walls of encryption.

Mace felt responsible for the child, so he followed Master Dooku to the room in the Halls, and stayed in the door, far away from Jango's pointy teeth.

Jango was as much impressed with this adult, as he was with every one he met so far. Every youngling and padawan in the Jedi Temple covered before the majestic Master Dooku, but Jango was not a Jedi child, so he went right to cursing him out.

Mace just stayed behind, looking at the Jedi, who even in his practical robes meant for traveling looked like a well off politician, and the feral teenager, thrashing around his restrains, no doubt ready to mark another Jedi with his set of teeth.

When Dooku spoke, Jango stilled.

With the deep, rumbling baritone and steady flow of speech, he was every bit the man Mace remembered from his early History seminars.

How did Qui-Gon of all people made in into knighthood under this man was still beyond Mace.

Secrets of the universe and all of that.

Dooku finished his little speech, his heavy gaze not moving from Jango.

Mace waited. Maybe he wasn't Mandalorian after all. He expected some excitement or more cursing from Jango but he just…

The teenager stared in disbelief at Dooku, then threw his head back and started to laugh.

Hysterically so. Coughing and all. Every time his eyes landed back to Dooku, the laugh just renewed.

Mace felt a pulse behind his eyes. Force was laughing at him.

Eventually, between the fits, he managed a few sentences in fast paced Mando'a, the contents of which made Dooku raise a single eyebrow.

"An accent?"

Jango laughed into his face. Yan Dooku has never met such disrespect from a child before and didn't know how to act. Mace felt the confusion trickle down his own spine.

"Could you at least get his last name? I would really like to get his guardian to come get him as fast as possible."

Jango was just coughing now, so Dooku relayed his message and got laughed to his face again before the boy produced an answer.

"Fett. His surname is Fett."

Mace bowed to the older man and went on his merry way.

He had a parent to track down.

Howling followed him out of the Halls.

Myles nervously stood at the med bay of their ship, while Mij walked around producing curses that haven't been heard in the past few centuries. Obi-Wan was laid out on the cot, already hooked into an IV, seemingly asleep.

After Skirata left him before boarding, Myles had to explain to their medic why he came back with a child, how he acquired it and what led to acquiring him. Said medic chewed him out so badly, Myles was glad his hands were busy with something and not shaking him by the shoulders. He is so getting his ass handled to him the next time they will spar.

Kid didn't even care about all the noise around.

Mij was putting his vials of blood to get a profile when his hand sprang to point at Myles.

"Just wait until Jaster hears about this! Just you wai-"

Oh sweet Ka'ra. O honorable ancestors. Spare his soul. He will never get over this. Jango, when they finally find him, will never let this go.

Mij was still at it when the door snapped open.

The wrong Fett walked in.

Arla wasn't that much older, but little gods she still towered over him. Mij hissed over his shoulder to get out if she isn't injured, but she just stared at the kid.

"You really got a child."

She turned to Myles.

"So Kal wasn't joking. That is the wrong ad Myles, proportions and everything. Do you need to get your eyes checked?"

God dammit Kal.

Myles might just leave. Change his name and go live with the New Mandalorians and their nonsense. He will never live this down.

"Buir will come to take a look and talk to you when the meeting is finished."

A head start. Maybe he will make it even to the engine room.

Arla was now standing over the kid, face displeased.

The door opened again, revealing Mand'alor in his tired glory, with Skirata half a step behind.

"Ad'ika, what is it that i am hearing that you brought a kid? Kal refuses to explain."

Myles might actually cry.

"Alor."

Myles began to stammer out the full story, going back to his first mission on Corusant, while Jaster joined his ad at the bed. Arla's head snapped towards Myles when he mentioned Ari, and Mij picked up his cursing at the vials of blood. Skirata just stood back, judgment reeking from him.

Jaster frowned at the child and took his glove off. He pinched the material fo the boys clothes to feel it. He looked confused.

"My'ika, why did you bring a Jedi child?"

His stomach dropped.

What?

"Look at his clothes. The material, the cut, even the shoes. This is a Jedi child."

Skirata zeroed in on him. Myles felt his panic rising and went to defend himself with what Mir told them. They took him off hands of prostitutes who found him. Kal was with him! He heard the story!

"No, this is definitely a Jedi child. Arla, you should be able to feel him."

Arla frowned, concentrating.

"I mean, he is a little… colorful?"

Said child was pale, expect for the fiery hair.

"If I know anything about Jedi, they are most likely looking for him."

Oh little gods. If the Jedi find out Myles took a child of theirs, they will raise hell. Involve the Senate and the Republic and gods know why will they bring to Mandalore. This was bad. Really bad. Mandalore couldn't really withstand a full scale Republic invasion, not with the state of society. Myles could lose his home and everything he ever kne-

Kids breath hitched. A little cough.

As all of them turned to him, the little body sprung up suddenly. Kids eyes were wide oped, and he seemed to try to catch his breath. Blood trickled down from his nose. Mij pushed Jaster off his side a second too late.

Obi-Wans body started to trash around. The medic looked panicked. Eyes rolled back, body throwing itself side to side. Mij tried to grab the kid to calm him down. Light flickered. The IV stand bent in half, bag falling to floor. Something made of glass shattered. Mij's hands flew backwards on their own, followed by a high pitched scream.

Myles felt the tears in his own eyes.

The scream died down, kids head lolled to the side. His chest raised once and he started throwing up. Jaster passed an bucket over, but it was too late. The bile mixed with the blood from his nose and suddenly the kids body just died down. His eyelids were heavy, but he was still breathing. Mij got right back to work. When he held the boys head, he was rewarded with a soft whine.

Arla took in a deep breath.

"Holy shit. What the fuck was that?!"

Jaster looked more tired.

"Yeah. That is a Jedi child."

From all the stories Jango heard in his youth about Jedi, he sort of expected them to be a little bit off from normal, but Buir's stories didn't do them justice. Space wizard-warrior-monks who fought with swords made from light, could read minds and move spaceships at will without having to touch them. Jango called bullshit.

These people were so fucking weird.

For starters, the only person speaking Mando'a in this entire building was apparently grandpa over there, who spoke like a character from a two hundred years old poem. When Jango was far younger, Buir used to read him these poems so he could at least put together what this man was trying to say to him.

When he promised not to bite or maim others, his restrains were lifted and he was escorted to fresher to put himself together. He was then handed the most offensive set of garments he ever saw.

Beige linens, flow-y with wide sleeves, leggins and socks made in the same color, a belt made from some type of leather and a pair of too soft boots. Those had to be pajamas, there was no way in hell this was a type of clothing someone sane would wear outside.

If Arla or Myles ever saw him dressed like this, he wouldn't hear the end of it.

Outside, his new minder and the Korun man who brought him here were waiting for him. The older man initially introduced himself as Dooku, with honorific that Jango couldn't translate, but the only thing he remembered about the Korun man was that his last name started with "W".

Jango didn't seem him smile so far, he always looked sort of pissed. Kal would like him. He loved people who came pre-irritated. He felt tense, like clouds forming before a storm.

That was another thing.

These people were constantly trying to touch his mind. The medics, that Korun man or that green cat-man-thing that Jango swore he would maim if it ever came near him. Old man Dooku haven't tried so far.

Or maybe he did, because he turned to him from his conversation. Freaky Jedi mind tricks.

"There are you."

Jango swallowed his urge to laugh again. It wasn't that funny.

"- Windu and I escort you will around the Temple. Clearance given you were to certain areas. Assigned-"

Jango closed his eyes. It wasn't that funny.

"- room for you. Hunt for your parents, unsuccessful was so far."

Parents. Plural.

"They are dead."

Dooku frowned.

"To hear that I am very sorry. Is there a guard contact we can?"

Guard.

Aran.

Were they asking for Kal?

Jango decided to be petty just for a moment.

"Sure you can try."

Korun man pressed his nose bridge. Dooku raised a single eyebrow.

"Come, follow."

They walked out of the medical wing, Dooku in the middle. The massive old man had legs longer than the week before payday and kept a pace that was hard to follow. He talked to the other man and Jango finally caught his name. Windu. Korun man was Windu, with some honorific attached to it.

Jango looked around. The place was massive. Tall hallways with large openings instead of windows, multiple atrium's. People milled around.

Jango saw so many different species of different ages just coexisting. He was used to staring at armor pieces with different colors, sometimes a face here and there. Around him, he could see faces clearly, with everyone wearing a variation of robes similar to his, just in different shades of brown. Walking around, vulnerable parts of body for everyone around to see, wearing nothing more than a clothes meant for bed. Fantastic.

Everyone in here was insane. There was no other way.

Some moved in pairs, usually an adult with a teenager, elderly sat down in the high arches, passing around a smoking pipe. In front of them, a Kel-dor was walking with a woman leading a group of giggling children. The older the person was, the darker the shade of brown. Kids wore white, teenagers and young adults beige and older ones dark brown. Jango glanced at his company.

Windu was wearing dark brown, but Dooku was full on adorned in black. Was he in a different place of their hierarchy? Even the green thing was wearing brown.

They passed another arch, this time there was a large gathering of people his age, preforming a choreography with long, wooden sticks. didn't Jedi fight with something different?

The laser swords. All around, other had small, cylindrical object hanging from their belts. Windu had one on his, but Dooku carried two, strangely curved ones. He probably really was a higher up. But they both used the same honorific.

Buir would have known. Jango swallowed harshly. What he wouldn't do to swap his place with his father right now. Jaster would have been ecstatic. He was obsessed with the Jedi years before he even adopted Jango.

A wave of homesickness washed over him. Then he felt a presence. Someone was in his head again.

Out. Get out.

Get out.

His eyes snapped onto Dooku, who was staring right into his soul.

"Get out of my head."

Dooku just stared harder.

"Emotions your are loud. Overflowing are they. Have no one taught you to-"

Jango didn't know the last word. His confusion must have shown, because Dooku tried to think.

He then tapped the outside of his forearm.

"Defend."

Aranar. Defend his mind? Yeah, that what buy'ce was for. To shield his skull and mind, and everyone around was just walking wally-bally with their bare-ass heads.

"While here, someone teach you could."

No thank you. Jango will stick to his armor.

As they walked, a few people stopped them. The exchanges were quick, they sometimes glanced at Jango and then threw a pitiful look towards Windu. Whatever that meant.

Small children sometimes waved at Windu, but looked mildly afraid of Dooku.

Lot of the boys his age were sporting an unfortunate looking haircut.

The massive place was oh so alive.

They were coming towards a lift when they passed a person in full armor. Jango whipped his head to stare after them.

"Temple guards."

Those actually looked like warriors.

The lift took them to a residential are, seriously, how fucking big was this entire place?, where Jango was assigned a room. A low bed, dresser and a low table with two contusion to kneel at. A second pair of door revealed a stocked dresser. The small window had barriers outside. Jango asked if this was a prison cell?

A padawan room.

Whatever that means man.

On the low table sat a stack of food containers. On the orders from the medics, he was told to eat light food to not upset his stomach after captivity.

There was also a data pad with limited access and two changes of clothes in the dresser.

Dooku told him hes free to move around the public areas of Temple, but it might be a good idea to not go on his own, because of the language barrier. The guards were informed of his presence and should he get lost, they will bring him into this room.

Someone will bring him food thrice a day, or take him to eat at the canteen. He is not permitted to leave the grounds for his own safety.

Dooku told him to eat up and rest, said his goodbye and went off with Windu.

Jango opened up the containers. Broth, steamed vegetables, protein cubes and diced fruit. He smelled the broth. It smelled beige. Do these people not use even salt?

He lifted the broth to taste it. It tasted beige.

O Ka'ra, have mercy on him.

After landing on Manda'yaim, dealing with Kyr'tsad was a walk in the forest. They were expecting them, but they underestimated their numbers. A few of his men were injured, but no one was dead. Kryze sent his thanks to Jaster, through a call.

Jaster was itching to turn his ship around to Corusant and pick up where they left, but his men deserved rest, the ships needed some fuel and maintenance and they had a situation on hand.

Said situation was currently asleep in the medical wing of compound, after another two seizures. Mij was still processing the blood. It's been two days and something in the blood was messing with the machine.

Jaster was awake for a few more days than he should have been, so he told the men to wake him up if someone is dying, knocked down a glass and went to rest. If his mind was everywhere, he would not be of use to anyone. He needed to think and concrete.

Twelve hours did wonders for him.

He made himself presentable, took a report on the last mission, managed a breakfast and marched to medical.

They needed to get the kid home, but right now another long ride would do him no good. If they returned him in this shape, Republic might even accuse them of hurting the child. Jaster held no ideals and hopes that it would be simple, especially now that the kid was outside the Republic space. He would need to threat carefully.

Favorite pastime of Senators was making simple things complicated. Maybe an exchange would work? Offering the kid back for a help to find his own. Jedi were good at looking for things. They had a whole division, or at least they had some hundred years ago.

Kid was still out of it. Mij was holding a steaming mug and glaring at the test results. Jaster grinned.

"Good morning my shining star."

"Shut the fuck up Mereel."

Jaster could conquer the entire galaxy and Mij would still beat his ass.

"Any good news?"

"Made the night without incident. I have partial test results from the blood and I think I know what is messing with my equipment. Force in this quantity doesn't do well with beskar, so partials are all I have. Kid is ten standard, Stewjoni variant of near-human. He is a little underweight and there is trace of some drug in the blood that system doesn't recognize. I don't know if its helping him or making him worse. Seizures are not from standard epilepsy, but from some Ka'ra related variant. As for the infected bite, I would love to just stick him into a bacta tank and call it a day, but he could have another episode, puke into the rebreather and suffocate, so were going manual. The infection didn't spread that much, so he can keep his arm, it will just scar."

Well damn fuck. Isn't that nice.

"I'm keeping him here for till I decide he's able to walk."

Jaster thanked him and told him to go take fifteen. Mij just cursed him out.

Kal was waiting for him in front of his office.

"You are about to do something stupid."

"Cyare, you know me so well."

Jaster booted up his long space holoreciver and opened up holonet. Thank the stars, Jedi had an official page, linked to the Senate, with visitation hours, open seminars and contact numbers to reach different branches inside the Temple. Jaster found the numbers to contact the Council, punched in the numbers and hit call.

Kal looked disappointed.

"You really think it is as easy as this? Just hit them up, hey we have your child, come pick him up? You hit your head? Really Jaster, this is an Republic institution, gods know wha-"

Signal went through.

A hologram of padawan appeared in the middle of the room. She was looking at the pad in her hands when she began talking.

In Basic. Fuck.

Jaster didn't grow up with the language, and when he tried to pick it up in his later years, he struggled with it. He was still pissed at himself, because if he knew the language better, he would have so much easier time to find his preferred literature. Translations to Mando'a were getting more rare by the year. He knew enough to speak when on mission, but hes vocabulary wasn't enough for bureaucracy.

He didn't think this through. Kal was already out the door, his own Basic wasn't that much better. Didn't they have a protocol droid somewhere downstairs? Or did they already scrapped it up?

She finally looked from her pad and froze when she saw him. Even with the blue tint of the hologram, he could see the color draining from her face.

Before Jaster could even introduce himself, she made a hurried gesture to wait and sprinted off.

Kal walked back, Myles in tow. Not ideal, but since they left Priest and his men at Corusant, this would have to do. Between the three of them, they should be able to put together at least a few sentences.

The signal beeped and transferred. A whole lot more holograms appeared. The Council. It really was that fucking easy to call the Council the entire time? Jaster should have done this years ago!

His office didn't have enough space, so a few of the figures in chairs clipped into his furniture.

By the looks on their faces, they were as surprised to see him, as he was surprised to see them.

Kal kicked his ankle.

"Good afternoon, esteemed Jedi Council. My name is Mand'alor Mereel, and I come with a offer of exchange."

The small cat-thing went to answer and Jaster was lost immediately. Kal seemed to have pick up at least some words, and Myles wasn't faring much better. The Jedi stopped his speech to stare at them.

"I think he introduced himself?"

They just stared at one another in confusion. One of the Councilors put their head into their hands and mumbled. Another stood up from his chair and went off. Could he patch Priest in?

Come on Mand'alor. Think.

"If we just sit here, they will shut us off. Come on Mand'alor, say something."

He really should have brought a protocol droid. At the other hand, Jaster found it hard to believe that no one in the Temple spoke at least a lick of Mando'a.

The Councilor returned with two other people. A Korun man and an elderly gentleman with nice beard.

"Best of evening verd-a. Surprised to hear from you we are."

Jaster couldn't believe his ears. The archaic greeting, a syntax that was dead for at least a century. Behind, Myles took in a sharp breath.

Don't you fucking dare to laugh ad'ika. They needed this to go well.

Jaster introduced himself again, then his Second and Myles. The mans name was Master Yan Dooku. The green thing behind him was Grandmaster Yoda, and they were trying to reach them for a few days.

Jaster took his helmet off and made a point to speak slower.

"I call bearing an offer. Three days ago, we picked up a child in the lower levels of Corusant. I come to believe he is one of yours."

Dooku relayed this to the rest, which caused a few raised voices. While Dooku tried to calm them down, the Korun man stared right at Jaster.

"Obi-Wan?"

Myles took in a sharp breath, then nodded.

Some tension dropped from the mans shoulders as he pressed the bridge of his nose.

This was a direct confirmation. They had a Jedi child in medical.

Dooku turned back to them.

"If you knew a Jedi child you found, why haven't you to the Temple brought him? Why take him? Injured he is?"

Jaster gestured at Myles, who took of his buy'ce and stepped forward. He gave them a simplified version of the story Jaster heard in medical.

A contact of Myles called in a favor, when they came, she let them to a sick child in a brothel. The workers said hes been there for a few days, that he was sick and getting worse. They couldn't give the child the help he needed, so Myles and Kal took him to their medic, on a ship that was set to leave. The boy insisted that someone was looking for him and was afraid. Obi-Wan is alive, but he is asleep and getting treatment.

Myles stopped every few sentences so Dooku could relay the story. Every now and then, one of them would rise, enraged, but the Grandmaster set them down straight. When Myles finished, Jaster stepped forward. A few questions went forward. According to them, Obi-Wan has been missing for the last month. Myles knew about his whereabouts only for the past few days. Jaster was a little hesitant about his mission on Corusant.

"I have no intention to harm the child. He is however weak at the moment, and our medic advised against traveling. His seizures are still unpredictable. When he is well to travel, I fully intend to return him home. For exchange I ask for your help."

Dooku nodded and relayed this. The other green thing spoke up. The Korun man looked nervous. Dooku turned back.

"Aware, of movement on Corusant, were we. Remained few behind, looking still."

Jaster breathed out.

"I ask for your help to find my son. He was kidnapped a few weeks ago, and we were able to track him to Corusant. I was called away on urgent business, but I plan on returning within next tenday."

Korun man looked like he was about to throw up when Dooku translated that statement.

"Son, you say?"

Kal handed him the holo with Jango's face.

"This is my son. His name is Jango Fett. My men are close to tracking him down, but they could use help before I return."

The Korun man left. Dooku didn't even bother translating.

"Call of your man you can. At the Temple, here, your child is."

Jango was getting bored. He slept as much as he could, did some light exercise and powered up the holopad. Everything on it was in Basic, so he couldn't read shit. He wandered around the Temple for less then an hour when he got lost and the Temple guard picked him up. View from his window wasn't much. Corusant was a miserable place to live, no matter how cool it looked at the night.

It's been two days. Dooku came around once.

What would Buir do? He would try to get into the library, where Jango had no intention to go. Books weren't for him. Maybe he could convince Dooku to let him spar with some of the children.

A knock on the door.

Windu appeared. He felt tired. The Jedi gestured for him to follow. Jango scrambled up.

Windu led him across the space to a high central tower. In the hallway, a teenager greeted Windu and let them trough a large room. A circular space, with elevated seating filled by older adults. In the center of the room Dooku was speaking to a hologram. Jango would recognize this armor even blind.

"Buir!"

Jango ran forward, as the projection of his father knelled.

"Jan'ika. Thank the stars."

Jango's eyes fretted over his father. He looked unharmed, but appeared a little tired.

Someone behind him cleared his throat. Jango turned to Dooku, then looked around the others present. Windu stayed at the door. Jango hardly cared about adults he couldn't even understand. Dooku and his buir were the only people relevant to him right now. Aside-

The green cat thing. Sitting on a high chair with a grin. Jango didn't even move forward when he felt the arm on his shoulder.

"Now now Jan'ika, no need for maiming. Just because you are dressed as one of them, doesn't mean they wouldn't prosecute you like one of us."

Jango felt his ears tingle.

"Last night, your parent contacted us. Found a child, looking for which for while we were. Both of you, return home we wish."

Jango wouldn't laugh. Not again. Jaster on the other hand looks he really wanted to. His Buir sighed.

"After you were taken, we tracked you down to Corusant. While we were looking for you, Kryze called me to deal with urgent business. We had to board in a short time and Myles brought in a child. Said child turned out to be a missing Jedi youngling. We have him here, but he is too sick to travel right now. When he gets better, we will arrange for an exchange."

Jango frowned. Myles of all people? He was barely older than Jango, who would let him to look after a child.

"There is… also a problem with some bureaucracy. We technically did kidnap the boy, even tho without a malicious intend. It may take some time to clear things up with the Senate, but all I need to know right now is that you are safe."

"You could send someone to take me." Jango blurted out. Jaster shook his head.

"That would cause a war we cannot afford right now. Jan'ika. Stay put, don't cause unnecessary trouble. They promised to keep an eye on you till we figure this out. It may take some time, but I can assure you are going home. Haat, ijaa, haa'it."

Jaster raised to his full height. He winked at Jango.

"Go see the Archives."

Jango groaned.

Mij was losing his mind. He couldn't determine if his patient was getting better or worse. His numbers were up, blood tests still revealed traces of the unknown medicine. Arm was healed almost perfectly, even better than he expected.

There was no pattern to his episodes. Sometimes he had two in one hour, sometimes he went a day without anything. He was awake for short periods of time, but was so disoriented it barely counted. Despite the IV, he was still weak and exhausted. What scared him was the screaming.

During some episodes, kid would scream like he was being tortured by something. His body would curl on itself, eyes snapped open, alternating between destroying his vocal chords and pleading for nonsense.

By the end of this, he would just lie and cry till he fell asleep. During these, his Kara would act out. Anything made from durasteel in his arm-length would either bent or snap off entirely, a few lights needed to be replaced and at one point, Mij watched one of the other cots move, scraping his nice floors.

He tried to write down information on every episode, from time to cataloging what was damaged, but the only pattern he could see was that they were getting more common.

Mij didn't know how to help him. He tried to see if it had anything to do with his near-human variation, but the only things that came up when he typed in "Stewjon" were war reports and porn. Neither was helpful.

He was worried if he introduced some kind of heavier treatment, it would fight with whatever-that-was and make it worse. Mij never treated someone with this high level of sensitivity. He tried to separate the trace from the rest of the blood, to get at least a chemical makeup of the thing to study it.

However since Obi-Wan was Force-sensitive non-standard human, even trying to separate what was blood mutation, Force presence and where was the end of the trace proven to be difficult. Not to mention, his equipment kept malfunctioning.

Myles was the first one to come by after initial contact with the Jedi. It was nice to hear that Jango was somewhere warm and in one piece, because it meant that the hunt was almost over. It will be over after he takes a first step of whatever aircraft will bring him here. Mij reminded him he still has a spar on his tab. The Pantoran left at the first instance of Mij turning his back to him.

Jaster came after the second call. If they want Jango back with minimal Republic interference, this kid has to be in a shape to travel. It hinged on Mij and his ability to put him on his feet. This was troublesome. Jaster informed his medic that his ad looked healthy during the holocall, and that the Jedi were sending some of their own to the Senate to work out a deal.

Mij asked if he wished to swap places with his own son.

"He has the most glorious library at his fingertips and he cant even appreciate it!"

The medic stared at the rise and fall of the kids chest. He was afraid. He was afraid he couldn't help him enough.

"I don't know how to say this, but I cant tell if hes getting better or worse."

Jaster also bitched about the man who was acting like a translator between him and the rest of the Jedi. Myles had to excuse himself at one point to leave the room and laugh his lungs out before coming back in, while Skirata went straight for the alcohol the minute the first call was over.

Priest and his men were set to land in about eight hours. He logged the time down when he heard the kid moving. Jaster had a bucket in his arms.

While Mace loved the Republic and what it stood for, he hated the Senate building. Migraine inducing, shatter-point filled fun-park. The Council sent him, since he was the one officially responsible for Jango while he was in the Temple. He was so glad that they gave him Depa for a partner. He knew he could rely on his former padawan, even in a delicate situation like this one.

At the reception, he asked for Chancellor Valorum. No time to waste. His young aide came in record time to escort them and tell them that the Chancellor was a busy man so their time was limited to thirty minutes. Time is money, money is taxes, taxes feed Jedi. Like this was Maces first time here. Please.

The elderly man was glad to see them. Sat them down, offered tea and asked what can he help the order with.

"Its seems we have a… situation on our hand. As you may recall, a few days ago the Jedi were sent to investigate the kidnapping of prominent children form the Mid-Rim."

"Oh yes, I recall. Such an unsightly thing, this close to election."

"You may also recall that all but one child were returned to their parents, safe for one boy who was taken into our custody. We treated him and he is currently residing within the Temple."

"Have you failed to locate a parent?"

"The parent called a few days ago. His name is Jaster Mereel, leader of True Mandalorians, and he would like his son back."

"My, my. That is rather. Particular. Do you have an idea why the son was one of the kidnapped children?"

"I'm afraid not. Our problem lays elsewhere. About a month ago, one of our children walked out of the Temple in the middle of the night and vanished. The only proof he was still alive were his Force-bonds. His friends could feel him, distantly. Despite our efforts, we were unable to locate him."

Valorum looked disturbed.

"A child? Simply walked out? How did that happened?"

Depa jumped in.

"I spoke to the boys healer recently. By the time he walked out of the Temple, our youngling was in the trial period for a medication that was supposed to help his problem with seizures. The trial period is three months long, the boy was already two months in. During this period, while the body is getting used to the effects of the medication, presents a set of side-effects. Dizziness, insomnia and disorientation are a major ones. He most likely woke up, scared and confused and tried to get help. That is the most reasonable explanation right now."

Mace didn't know that. Also…

"There was a mishap within our security. It has been dealt with and the Guards present were penalized."

Valorum stirred his tea, looking at Mace.

"Even before the operation in the Business District, we got reports of Mandalorian movement in the lower levels. They were looking for Mereel's son, who later ended up in our custody. During this operation, Mereel was abruptly called back on some business. He gathered most of his men, and one of them brought a child on board."

Valorum pointed his spoon.

"Your child."

Mace nodded.

"He claims, that at the time, he was unaware that it was one of ours. The boy spent the month in the lower levels, until the rain flooded them. He hid in an… establishment, where one of the Mandalorians later picked him up. They claim he needed urgent medical attention and refused to visit one of the clinics we operate in the area. The boy was shipped to Mandalore, where he is getting some urgent treatment."

Valorum appeared to be contemplating.

"To set this right. You have a son of prominent Mandalorian in your custody, that you rescued, while said prominent Mandalorian has a child of yours, that he picked up on lower levels?"

"Yes Chancellor."

"And you are trying to…?"

"We are trying to come with terms for exchange of these boys. Since we are directly under the Senate jury striction, we will need a Senate approval. We are currently waiting for an update on condition of our youngling, when he is well enough to travel, we could arrange a meet up."

"Where would that meet up be?"

"The safest route is a neutral planet. Forcing Mandalorians to come back to Corusant could agitate them and sending Jedi on Mandalore is problematic in current climate."

A door clicked behind them, Valorum waved off whoever it was. He paced in front of the window, thinking.

"Have you seen your child? Or have the Mand'alor seen his?"

"Sir. Mereel was able to talk to Jango via a hologram in our Council chambers. I was a witness."

"Was one of you able to see your young one?"

"No Sir. He is in a medical ward."

"According to a Mandalorian. So you are saying that you haven't seen him. Yet you are so sure that it is your child, and he is still alive."

Depa stilled next to him.

"For all you could know, this could be a trick. There are still terrorists on Mandalore and this," he waved loosely towards them," offered set up of yours, poses a lot of dangerous variables. I am sorry Master Windu. When you have something more convincing that a word of a Mandalorian, please do come back."

Mace stood up bowing.

They were already at the steps when he asked Depa.

"Who is his Healer?" Please. Please anyone but her.

"Master Che. I wouldn't make a visit right now. She could bite your hands off."

Mace poked her in the Force. They needed proof Obi-Wan was still alive. A shatter-point lingered, just outside his peripheral vision.

Jango wanted to avoid the Archives like they were the plague. However, Dooku escorted him to the main entrance as he explained that Windu came back from the Senate with some news and they needed Dooku present. So he was pawning Jango off to the other person who spoke Mando'a.

After he left him there, Jango wondered if he could make it back to his room on his own before the Guards caught him. The door opened, and on the other side, a Kryt Dragon waited for him.

The Kryt Dragon was and elderly woman with stern expression. Why none of this people were able to smile? The only people he seen laughing so far were the little ones.

She sized him up, eyes narrowing.

"Jango Fett. I have awaited you. Come."

Jango wouldn't laugh to a woman's face. He had some manners. At least she sounded better than Dooku.

She also didn't wait to see if he followed her. He was next to her in less than ten steps.

"I am Master Jocasta Nu. I guard the archives."

This time, the honorific rang much cleaner in his ears.

"Master? You own people?" There were young children here. A lot of children. He haven't seen a collar so far, but chips were far easier to hide.

"Jedi hold a vow of poverty. Master is more like… Alor or Aran. They have took in a padawan, and give the word a Knight. As for me, I look after knowledge. To your people, I am Goran."

The words rolled off her tongue easily. This meant that both Windu and Dooku looked after children at one point, and successfully brought the to adulthood. Still. A Goran? That was a claim hard to believe.

"Is Master Dooku in some other position? His clothes are different, and he wears two swords."

"Yan simply is like that. He is merely a Master."

He just kept following her, but now he bothered to look around. No wonder Buir wanted to come here so badly. Walls covered in books, holopads, artifacts, stacked onto one another. A labyrinth build of knowledge.

It was quiet. Here and there, a lone figure carried a stack of pads.

"Where are you taking me?"

"To see, your ancestors."

Logically, Jango knew that the Jedi had some materials on Mandalorians and their history, but it caught him off guard. With the way this woman and Dooku spoke, they probably had some old eposes and Mandalorian epics on hand.

If Jango recalled correctly, Jasters own materials on Jedi, collected over the span of decades, were mostly technical papers. Documents of clothing, mission reports, an extended copy of the Jedi Code, which he paid an outrageous sum to get translated to Mando'a.

Do Jedi even tell stories?

The holocrons, swords and pieces of antique armor were a whole another story. Not to mention the Sith. His father didn't discriminate. Jango remembered the piece of porcelain mask wrapped in cloth. He touched it once, on accident and nightmares followed him for weeks.

She led him deeper and deeper into the Archives. By the time they were walking down in a spiral of stairs, Jango realized he wouldn't be able to find his way back on his own.

It was dark, but surprisingly dry down here. Around them were countless doors, some lacking a handle. In a second, he found out why. She pressed her hand to one of them. Jango felt the light before he saw it. It spread from under her hands, like a web all the way to the hinges. The door croaked and gave in.

The room was small. A jar filled with some glowing liquid coated the room in cold blue light. The centerpiece of the room was an-

Armor, Jango realized. A Mandalorian Armor.

"Vizsla, Tarre."

Honored ancestor. You are far away from home.

"Please understand Mand'alor Mereel, request this has nothing to do, with our trust, in words of yours."

Master Windu looked very unhappy about the news he acquired at the Senate. Chancellor of the Republic blocked their initial offer on the grounds, that since the Jedi weren't able to see Obi-Wan, Jaster could be lying.

The Jedi reassured him that Chancellors statement didn't reflect their own views, but since they were an Institution directly under the Senate, his word held a big weight. If at least two of the Jedi could see Obi-Wan, or even better speak to him to confirm he is alive, they would have easier time to resolve this quickly and peacefully.

Jaster tapped his chin. This sounded fair on certain points. The Jedi let him see his own son when he asked, and also updated him in these meetings on Jango's stay. Jango was also in much better condition than Obi-Wan was. He remembered how worried Gilamar was.

"Would one of your Medics be willing to talk to one of mine?"

Mij turned his back to the long range transreciver Jaster hauled into his med bay for all of four seconds. When he turned back. he came face to face with an blue impression of a Twi'lek woman. Behind her, he spotted two others. A scowling Korun and a older man, roughly the size of his Med bay door.

"Best of evening, Medic." Mij hated when Jaster was right.

Mij knew as much Basic as the average Mandalorian. What he knew a little better, was his craft. While he couldn't probably negotiate a cup of caf in Basic, he was confident that he would be able to describe Obi-Wans condition to the Jedi Medic. Their translator introduced them, and politely navigated Mij to move the reciver to get Obi-Wan into their frame.

While the medic crouched over Obi-Wans body, Dooku explained that Vokara, thee Vokara Che, one of the finest neurosurgeons in the galaxy, was Obi-Wans primary healer beforehand. While Master Dooku and Master Windu were there as witnesses, Che was able to actually help Gilamar out. She confirmed a lot of his observations, and added some more.

She informed Mij that he was allergic to Hoi broth and the more violent sort of seizures were actually visions. She also confirmed his suspicion on why he's equipment was malfunctioning. When he asked after the traces he found, she gave him a full name of the medicine, which was a relatively new on the market and was used to treat Force-induced epilepsy and other seizure inducing illnesses. The treatment was very aggressive in the initial stages, but if Obi-Wan made it through the first stages and the body got used to the drug, his chances of almost seizure free life were optimistic.

None of Jasters men had enough Force to cause such an reaction, that's why Mij haven't heard of the drug before.

"Could we speak to him?"

His last episode was bad. If his notes were correct, the smaller the trace in the blood got, the more frequent and intense the episodes- or rather visions- got.

"You can try. He is tired, his body remains weak."

For how long they had the kid, he wasn't awake enough to get some taste of the famed Mandalorian cuisine. Skirata said they should at least get some broth or stew into the kid before they have to send him back.

Mij sat with the kid to feel his face. Still a little too warm.

"Come on ad'ika, your guardians need to see you are alive."

Her hologram was the closest, her face tense.

"Obi-Wan? Can you hear me?"

He stirred, eyes still closed.

"I am worried," Mij told the woman, "that there is not much more that I can do to help him. I can't tell if he is getting better or worse, but I can't in good faith, let him travel in this state."

She said something to the other Jedi over her shoulder, and turned back to him.

"Withdraw."

"Sorry?"

"He is going through a withdraw. Two months of heavy medication take some time to clean from the system on their own. You said his seizures were getting more frequent and intense?"

"In the past few days."

"Sounds about right."

She turned around again and barked out a set of orders at the two men, who scattered quickly. Authority of a medic was universal.

"Bottom line is, I need you to keep him alive. If what you said is true, he is going to get worse, but I need you to keep him alive. Hook him onto life support, induce a come, stick him into a tank, I don't care. Keep him breathing. Please, hold onto him. We will come."

"We have three witnesses to confirm that our youngling is alive, but in the need of medical attention. Me, Master Dooku and Head Healer Che can confirm his identity and that he is unharmed."

Mace was back in the Chancellors office. They couldn't take Vokara due to a flu outbreak in the Creché, so it was him, Depa and Dooku.

"As you can see, this is a time sensitive matter. I have gathered what you asked of me during my last visit, so I would like to ask you for the go on the deal I presented last time."

Chancellor was stirring his tea. Mace was grateful he had Dooku with him. The man spent the past few people arguing with politicians, the Council or his own lineage. Should this get ugly, he counted on his expertise.

"Have you figured the space you mentioned? For the exchange."

"We have narrowed it down to four possible planets. We present those to the Mand'alor to chose as a sing of Republic goodwill. In the best scenario, the exchange would be on Bandomeer. It is the closest Jedi outpost to the Mandalorian space. They could take offense to this, since its not technically a neutral space. The next best option is Phindar. We carried out a few mission on the planet beforehand, and so did Mandalorians, so its a familiar terrain bor both sides."

Valorum nodded. "And the other two options?"

"Kashyyyk or Bracca. Both further away from Mandalore and more dangerous to transfer to."

Valorum stood up to pace.

"I still have some doubts Master Jedi. Dealing with Mandalorians on that close proximity could get ugly rather fast."

Dooku spoke up.

"Correct me if I am wrong Chancellor, but are you not still in regular contact with Duke Kryze?"

"Oh yes, we were talk-"

"So he must have mentioned his recent troubles with attacks on a prominent family, which forced him to call a rather important favor."

"How do yo-"

"Therefore you know that Mandalorians are hardly a monolithic society. We are not making a deal with terrorists on behalf of the Republic. We are negotiating with a man who put his principles before his feelings to help an acquaintance who called in a favor."

Valorum opened his mouth to speak, but Dooku wasn't done with him yet.

"You know the contents of the deal, the risks of both going and not going into this. You also know how capable both the Jedi and the Mandalorians are. If we don't make up our minds, we are risking a child's health and wrath of feared warriors. Make no mistake Chancellor, in the worst case scenario, they will come and take what is theirs. They are only playing nice because we are. We need a blessing from the Senate and we came straight to you out of courtesy, but if you need some backing on this, there are plethora of senators who will agree with our case."

Depa stared at him. She never heard Master Dooku told off someone, a Chancellor of the Republic none the less, but Mace wasn't as moved as her. Years of arguing with Jinn proved that he learned from the best.

Valorum glared at Dooku. Mace was very grateful they didn't take Vokara with them.

"Please. Try to be discreet."

"But of course Chancellor Valorum."

Jango was glad that the Jedi kept him in the loop about how the negotiations with his father were going. While he didn't get much chances to speak to his Buir, when Dooku picked him from the Archives the last time, he informed him of the developments.

At the Archives, Jango found some appreciation for all the stories Jaster used to read to him. Master Nu recognized a good portions of them, but also showed him the collection of Mandalore related information the Jedi held. It occurred to him that the people Jaster was always fighting during auctions were possibly Jedi.

Also, seeing Vizsla's armor was a surreal experience. What he originally thought was a replica turned out to be the actual thing, well kept by the archivists.

She also explained to Jango how she and Dooku learned Mando'a, and was mildly offended when he mentioned her accent. She also knew who Jaster was, because it was her who initially viewed his papers needed to visit the Archives. She turned them down because they seemed like a joke. His poor father. He only wanted to see some books.

She was showing him a set of flashcards that she used in her youth to learn Mando'a, when he felt Dooku approaching. Jango also suspected that these two were fucking, past or present.

Dooku had good news. Their plea was singed from the Senate, which meant the moment the other kid was good enough to travel, Jango could go home. They just ended a call with his Buir to arrange the meeting spot. Mand'alor chose Phindar. Jango knew where that was, but it surprised him. He didn't think Jedi would dare come so close to Mandalore.

"For our sake, that is. The boy is not well."

Jango also constantly forgot that there was another child involved in this.

"What is wrong with him? Hes been sick for a while, ever since I came here."

Master Nu tried to think of a simple answer.

"Strain on the body, Force can take. Too much, sometimes. You pour too much into a small cup, overflow will. Heavy burden, seeing future can be."

A Seer. The other boy was a Seer. No wonder they wanted him back so bad. Seers were hard to come by.

"Young, he is. From a strange place he comes."

"How young?"

"Ten standard, Obi-Wan is."

That was young. Obi-Wan was an unusual name.

"Before you go, a healer you will see."

"I feel fine."

"I know. For ease in medics mind, and for official papers. Agreed to this, guardian has."

At least he knew he was going home soon. Gilamar will maim him once he sets foot down home.

Somewhere nearby, a book hit the floor. Dooku turned around, and Jango saw a small Kiffar sporting a worried expression. He was curling his gloved hands. Dooku asked him something, and received a wobbly answer.

Whatever the Kiffar told him wasn't good, because Dooku was gone instantly. Master Nu started to question the boy, but his gaze was firmly on Jango. Brown eyes, irises shrink ed, Jango felt him in the Force. If Jango can hear him, he must be loud.

Bells. A warning.

Keeping his promise to the Jedi medic turned out to be more difficult than he imagined. She was right, of course, and the boy was getting worse. After he stopped breathing for nearly a minute, Mij took the advice and hooked him onto life support. He tested the blood periodically and looked at the trace slowly disappearing from the chart. Still, kid was deteriorating, fast, way faster than Mij expected.

With the frequency of the episodes, his original idea to stick the kid into a tank was completely off the table.

His other numbers were going down drastically. Mij made Jaster haul down the transreciver and called back the number listed for Medi-Corps. He stared at the jumping line on the monitor, meaning the kids heart was still beating. For how long was the question.

The call connected. He turned to face the Jedi Healer.

"Wha-"

"He is getting worse. Life support may not be enough. I am losing him, quickly."

She seemed frighten by this.

"Master Windu came by a few minutes ago from a meeting with Mereel. They agreed on a meeting spot, the papers were just singed."

"A meeting spot?"

"Phindar."

He won't make it. It was close, but still too far to travel like this.

"We were told that when he is better to travel, we were ready to go."

"I have him hooked up. His episodes are not getting better. Numbers are all over. He stopped breathing for nearly a minute. I monitor his blood by the hour, the lower the trace is, the worse he is getting. He may die at the end of this withdraw."

She flagged down someone and shouted to get the Masters. Mij heard his own door click, and Myles walked in. Probably to relay the news he already heard. Instead he saw the hologram and turned around.

"How much time?"

Mij did the numbers like dozen vials of blood ago. He checked the pad anyways.

"Twenty seven hours till his blood is clean. I don't know what will happen then. Do you know someone who took the same drug and stopped?"

She turned from him to yell at someone else to get someone on the call.

Windu appeared at the same time as Jaster entered the room. He told Jaster what was happening while the Jedi panicked in blue. Windu was gone in seconds while Vokara turned back to them.

"He is informing the Senate."

Jaster went to check the kid, while Mij watched Che give out orders to her side. She was contacting the pharmacy responsible for the drug. She also listed a couple of pain-relievers that should be compatible and asked about the tank. He shut the idea down.

He heard Jaster from behind.

"Phindar is less than an hour away. Surely-"

Heard monitor made a dangerous sounds. Another one incoming.

Chaos erupted.

Kid let out an inhumane noise of pain. Vials cracked around. Mij yelled out at Jaster to get the damn defibrillator, to get the other medics. Kid was thrashing under his arms, but Mij needed to keep him plugged. The life support was the last line. If that failed, Mij didn't know what he would do. One of the cots moved, the leg letting out a high, eerie noise as it dragged across the floor.

Jaster flew back into the room, followed by others. They plugged the machine in and powered it up. The heart monitor was going crazy. If those numbers were correct, they were risking a heart attack.

He could hear Che somewhere in the chaos, but none of her words made sense.

A cracking noise followed, and her hologram was gone.

Kids scream died. A sharp, steady noise from the monitor raised up.

He flat-lined.

"Charging one hundred!"

Little gods. Please not today.

Vokara stared at nothing. Seconds ago, where nothing was, there was a hologram and screaming. Their connection cut. She punched in the numbers. Nothing. She tried again.

An error message.

Fuck.

The had maybe twenty hours and some to get to Outer-Rim. Even on high speed via hyperlane, Phindar was day away. All she could do right now was pray and hope they restore the connection. Or maybe…

Mace barged in.

"Request denied."

What.

"He called it a suicide mission. Master Dooku is still on his ass, but the hopes are low. He barely accepted Phindar as a place to meet, so he sure as hell wont let us onto Mandalore."

She was fuming. At the times like these, she wished they weren't tied to the Senate. No time for that now. She cleared her mind, reached for the Force and set herself right.

She pulled the numbers for Bandomeer. It was primarily an Agri-Corps posting, but there had to be at least one medic. It was a little further away than Phindar, but it would have to do. Two hours against twenty was better odds than none.

The Corps-Man who picked up informed her that the medic was on the other side of the planet, helping with something Vokara didn't care about.

Form her mind, she pulled all the postings in ten hour radius, and ringed them one by one.

Mace went away to bother someone else.

One of the padawans came back from the call with the pharmacy. They said that the results were inconclusive. Wonderful.

The clock was ticking.

Something was very wrong. After Dooku ran off, Master Nu took the Kiffar and Jango somewhere he wasn't before. She took them to the rest of the children. The kids lived together in smaller groups, the doors in the hallways were marked by stylized animals. Master Nu must have known the boy beforehand, because she knew where to go.

She opened up her doors of choice and pushed the Kiffar forward. She stepped in and gestured at Jango to take off his shoes. At the center of the floor, knelled a Kel-Dor, surrounded by Jedi children in various states of distress. Kel-Dor greeted the Master and let the smaller boy throw himself against his shoulders. Master Nu knelt down, and told Jango to do the same.

"What are we doing here?"

"These, Obi-Wans friends are. Something is not right, because they fail to feel their friend."

That probably wasn't good.

"Master Koon," she gestured towards the Kel-Dor, "is good with young ones. I came to help calm them down. You sit."

As it turns out, Jedi tell stories.

During her story-telling time, Dooku came in at one point to whisper something into her ear. Before she could reply, she was gone. The Kel-Dors voice sounded rumbly from the mask, and Jango missed the Mandalorian monotone he associated with home.

The earliest dream Obi-Wan can remember was of him floating in colorful water. As time went on, his dreams shifted. From hearing the waves and forest, the most common dream that followed him till today was of a desert.

He was almost alone, if he didn't count the thing.

He never saw or heard it, but he could feel it getting closer and closer. There was nothing else in the desert. No structures or rocks on the horizon. Just him and the thing.

Some of his dreams didn't wait for him to sleep. He would be walking somewhere, look down on his feet for a second and when he looked back up, he would be somewhere else. In the desert, or on a ship where people talked in tongues, and sometimes he would just feel the dream. Or just hear it.

Someplace scorching hot. Sound of blasters. Screaming that wasn't his own. The smell of fire.

The thick, black tar.

As he was getting older, the dreams came on less, but not always in the night. After he woke up in the Medical Wing for the third time that month, Healer Che came with a offer. She said the medicine would take a few months to kick in, but when it did, Obi-Wan shouldn't dream as much.

He knew he wanted to be a Knight, and Knights didn't collapse all the time.

He came to hate the medicine quite quickly. Jedi were not supposed to hate, but there was no lighter emotion he could muster up. It didn't matter if he was sleeping or awake. Everything felt like dreaming.

It was like someone was holding his head underwater. He couldn't tell where he was going, If he was awake or not, if he felt the pain or not. Food tasted like nothing. He was so tired, but sleeping turned into a chore.

This was probably the longest dream he ever had. He wandered around the strange place, and then he felt the thing. But he wasn't in the desert, he was in the city. He could hide, and he did try for a while.

He thought the dogs would be friendly, but when one bit him, he felt the pain. And he kept feeling it. He also felt the dirty water and the cold. The clarity of pain didn't last long.

Then he talked to the ladies in weird robes. After that, the dreams started to separate from the reality more clearly. But it was no use.

If he wasn't floating in the dark hot tar, he was seeing things. The masks, the voices. He knew he was dreaming, but he also felt weak. His body disobeyed him. The dreams rolled in faster. He kept seeing the white masks, whose names he knew, but never seemed to remember.

There were other children, and sometimes the thing was following him in places that wasn't the desert.

The blue eyed woman was by far the scariest one. He knew her, but couldn't remember her.

He never dreamed this long. He had to wake up, willed his mind to wake up, but no one was listening to him. Was it because he started speaking too late as a child?

He cant be a knight if no one will hear him. He didn't even remember the last time he was truly awake and up.

Mij was getting helpless.

Kid knocked out the long range reciver, and it didn't look like it would be repaired in time.

He crashed twice so far. The had to keep the defibrillator plugged in and ready.

Between the fits, he took his blood. The trace dropped more quickly than he expected. Twenty seven hours was cut to eighteen after the second crash. After the third, they were down to nine. From those nine, seven passed.

They cleared out the destroyed equipment. Someone from the outside informed them that a ship was getting cleaned up and started for an emergency.

Jaster was out there somewhere, trying to get his hands on some help. Any help. Closest long range reciver that would reach Corusant was in possession of Adonai Kryze, far, far away.

The medics were circling the boy like a hawks. Every time Obi-Wan as much as stirred, eyes were on him and hands were on the pads.

There was a high chance he wouldn't wake up from the next seizure. Mij stared at him. Bone white, almost translucent skin. Awfully thin. Ragged breathing. His hair was overgrown, the bangs would be right in his eyes if he opened them.

Just two more hours. He needed to get the kid to survive just two more hours.

Mij will get so fucking drunk. All the alcohol in the system won't be enough. He will sleep for a tenday when he will be done.

One hour. Bacta patches were changed, someone carried out the broken reciver.

Forty five minutes. The cots were pushed away to clear a path in case of emergency.

Nineteen minutes. The last nineteen minutes.

The blood rolled out of the boys nose.

The heartbeat jumped. Mij grabbed one of the pads. The thrashing around started, but it felt… sluggish in a way. Across him, emergency hypo and bacta in each hand, stood Priest. Confused.

Someone held his head in place. Pushed the bangs away to feel his forehead.

"No fever. That's strange, didn't he feel like hell an hour ago?"

Mij stared at the monitor. He expected the flat line. But the heartbeat started to slowly even out. The thrashing stopped. This felt off script. He was expecting something entirely different.

"Someone take his blood. I wanna see something."

Blood was drawn. They propped the kid up a little, in case he wanted to puke.

Gilamar waited for his partial blood results.

There were sun rays cutting into Obi-Wans black tar. Sun rays meant there must be a surface some where here. He forced his body towards them. Maybe it was the thing. But it usually usually chased him tho.

When in doubt, trust the Force.

He felt tired in the Force. Their instructor always reminded them to be mindful when meditating, so they wouldn't get too far away. He couldn't get too far away if he didn't know where he was in the first place.

He reached out. For the first instance in a very long time, he felt her clearly. There was a center to her. He followed. He was tired, but things felt clear. They haven't in months, even before the dreaded drugs.

He reached out.

He flat lined for two seconds. Before they could even touch him, the heart just went back to normal like nothing happened. Mij stared at the numbers. The were drastically different from the numbers a hour ago. What is going on? This smelled like a con.

The trace was gone.

The fever was gone.

His iron and vitamins were a bit low.

His heart was beating.

He wasn't even comatose.

He was asleep.

Mij stood up, and stopped at the foot of the bed.

The reciver was still out.

Jaster wasn't here.

The kid was breathing. On his own. The mask on his face was fogged from the moisture.

A grunt.

A hand reached to scrub closed eyes.

Blue. Very blue eyes. Irises reacted to light. He pushed the bangs out of his eyes.

Mij started to tear up. The kid stared right at him.

He was awake. Breathing on his own. No screaming in obvious pain. The movement were a little sluggish. There was still blood under his nose.

He proceeded to slur something out, but Mij's brain wasn't running anymore.

The kid was alive.

Vokara stared at the clock when a call came. She almost broke the button to receive it.

Bandomeer. The Corps-Man appeared, nervous looking.

"Healer Che, some Mandalorian called in just now. He asked me to tell you…"

He looked down at a note.

"Congratulations. Its a boy?"

Oh fuck you.

He made it.

She collapsed into the closest chair.

He is alive. She laughed so loud, the Corps-man just disconnected.

She dialed up Mace, who was probably still in the Senate with Dooku.

Didn't even ring once.

"Windu here. Any news? Did they fixed the reciver? Please tell me they fixed the reciver."

"Bandomeer called."

Silence.

"He's alive, Mace."

She felt the sound of the relief in her bones.

"Tell Jango to get his ass down here so we can plan a route to Pindar. Out."

She killed the call and pressed her eyes. She will get so drunk. And high for the matter. They probably should put together a gift basket for the Mandalorian medics. Someone will notify Grandmaster Yoda.

She called Dooku next. He said the last place he saw Jango was the Creché. But that was hours ago. Worth a shot.

Her legs were shaking as she walked across the Temple. Her face hurt.

He was sleeping on the floor with the rest of Obi-Wans clan. Good old Jedi puppy pile. Master Koon was talking to Master Nu just beyond the door. Why was she here?

You know what, doesn't fucking matter.

"Are we having a career day here? I wasn't informed. Or invited so it seems."

While Gilamar was doing his light hibernation routine, Jaster and the rest of the medics got to know their little patient. When Obi-Wan wasn't suffering from seizures and nightmare induced with Force, he was a very pleasant child. A bit shy, but otherwise rather sweet.

It took only three people to put together enough Basic for explanation of this situation. He was on Mandalore, because he was sick. Jedi will come to pick him up in no time. They will get him home as soon as they are sure he wont seize and die on the way to Pindar.

One of the medics asked Jaster if they could keep him. For Gilamar's sake, he told them no.

Skirata got some food into the kid. Told the kid its spicy because spicy is healthy. Cleans the gut and all of that. Mandalorian food was designed to be filling and to restore lost muscle. Kid was maybe a little red in the face after the soup, but that mean the blood was doing its job.

Their long range was still out of use. Jaster just rang up the terrified Corps-Man and wrote a note for Corusant Jedi like he did before. The man was getting annoyed, but Jaster hardly cared. He could kiss the man with how he was feeling.

The kid was alive. Jango was coming home.

After they fed him and checked him all over, Arla came to help him clean up. Sponge bath, clean clothes, washing and drying his hair. They were still monitoring him, so he had to sleep with heart monitor instead of plushie. Jaster had to witness Myles almost crying when he came to see the kid.

They agreed on day, time and meeting coordinates. Thank you Mister Corps-Man.

Jaster flew out next day.

Obi-Wan was still tired and couldn't muster enough energy to walk, but Myles just swept him up and carried him. Kid tried to bite him for his effort. Myles kind of wanted to keep him. He slept on his shoulder during the ride to Pindhar.

Kal was in the co-pilot seat, so Arla and Myles could fuss over all the wanted. They wrapped him in the fur coat to keep him warm. Arla laughed to the Pantoran's face and told him they had more than enough kids at home for him to pick up and cuddle. This one already had guardians. Myles looked at Kal.

"Shouldn't we have waited for Gilamar to wake up and say goodbye?"

"Kid, if Gilamar saw him, he would have probably strangled him with his own hands. Kid took some years of life and good sleep from him. If he didn't have gray hair before, he sure as hell will get some now. Worst case, we will wait till the reciver is repaired. He and that Jedi Healer are probably trauma-bonded for life."

They fed him again just before touching down. Who knows what the Jedi will feed him. Some beige soup and steamed vegetables.

The Jedi were already waiting on the agreed spot. Kal silently judged the ship they arrived in.

Master Dooku was talking to Jango about something, while Master Windu was enjoying the light wind with a familiar blue Twi'lek.

His ad barely waited for them to come cross half of the clearing between their ships. The teenager threw himself around Jaster with so much power, he almost fell over. While Mand'alor was thanking the stars and the ancestors, Skirata studied the now familiar faces.

Dooku looked even taller in real life, and the blue wash of hologram didn't do Windu much justice. He looked scarier in real life. Kal could take him. The healer on the other hand, Kal wasn't so sure.

"Mand'alor. Best of day."

Arla choked inside her helmet. She didn't hear Dooku speak before.

"Master Jedi. It is good to see you."

Myles walked up to Vokara with the kid. She carefully took the boy from his hands, thanked him and resettled Obi-Wan against her hips. Her other arm went to push his hair off his face. He mumbled something that made the Medic laugh and the Korun man chuckle.

"We thank you for you patience, for your trust. We wish you prosperity, good fortune-"

Jaster might have laughed if the old Jedi didn't sound so sincere. Windu stood next to Vokara, who was crooning at the boy in her arms. Said boy was resting his head against her shoulder pads.

"Consider us even. Equal."

Myles went to greet his friend, dressed in atrocious garments, but the wrong Fett was hogging him. Myles grinned.

"Hello Jedi."

Arla glared back.

"Oh shut up, Mister Hooker-On-Speed dial."

Jango choked in her grip. They had a lot to catch up on.

He wiggled out of Arla's hands and went to hang onto his parent, who was still speaking to Dooku. Jaster didn't miss a beat. Dooku produced a small note from his robes.

"As thanks. Master Nu sends this. To call her, shall you directly."

Jaster could cry. What a glorious day.

Mir was checking the news when the door opened. It was a week night, so the place was half empty. When she lifted her head, she was greeted by a Korun man in unusual robes. She seen something similar before, but where?

"Good evening Madam. I was told to drop something at this address."

Madam? Who calls a receptionist in a brothel Madam? Maybe Yoan is Madam, but Mir certain-

He pulled out a familiar fur coat.

Oh.

Oh dear.

"He made it home, didn't he?"

"Certainly did Madam."