Chapter Text
Creche Master Vant had a problem. A pest problem really.
As she stood in front of the giant wooden doors, she could only sigh at the incessant banging. Under normal circumstances, any kind of noise at the Creche doors would be a sign of warning, especially in the middle of the night. The Creche sits in the middle of the temple, surrounded and protected by the hundreds of Jedi. Additionally, the actual room for the younglings sits behind three large doors, the last only capable of being opened by other Creche Masters. So for someone to not only get to the Creche, but make it through the first two doors? In any other case, Vant would have her saber lit, ready to strike down anyone who dare threaten her younglings.
But this is no ordinary case. Or at least it better not become ordinary. Vant sighed and unlocked the door with the Force. She stood face to face with esteemed Jedi Master Plo Koon, crossing her arms with a mild glare.
Plo was regarded with a special kind of admiration that came with his caring but protective nature. It was a common joke among her younglings that anyone who didn’t like Plo was automatically evil and probably a Sith in disguise (Vant wouldn’t admit it, but even she felt there was a sliver of truth in that statement). Not only was he caring, but he was sensible, successfully leading numerous negotiations and rescue missions.
There was not a single Jedi that didn’t love Plo Koon. But Force above, Vant was tempted to become the first.
Plo wasn’t wearing any of the traditional Jedi garb and instead stood in silk blue pajamas complete with a little hat atop his head, much like those in the books Vant reads to her younglings. Unlike the calm, neutral pose Jedi are accustomed to, Plo seemed to be vibrating in place, claws twitching at his side. He made a chittering noise much like a shivering fox, though it sounded closer to static through his mask. His Force presence, normally a source of reassurance, was frazzled , giving an impression similar to static shock. Unknown to Plo, he was projecting it across the Creche, and Vant could already hear her other younglings beginning to wake up and fuss from the feeling. Vant shook her head.
“Plo, this is the seventh time this month.”
Creche Master Vant had a problem, and it was a recently imprinted Kel Dor.
(“ACCIDENTALLY dear, it was an accident” Plo could be heard across the temple yelling at the cackling Jocasta Nu).
Normally, Plo was able to reframe himself from the urge to barge into the Creche after sensing a youngling crying.
(Vant’s old master had horror stories of Plo’s early years in the temple, where Plo was met with numerous force sensitive children that not only tugged his Kel Dor instincts but his Force presence. The most notable was an instance of Vant’s old master waking up in the night to find Plo standing over his bed, holding at least five younglings in his arms.)
But Plo just had to imprint on the most recent addition to the Creche, and all of his progress vanished with Vant’s sanity. For the past few months, he’s been showing up in the dead of night, banging at the door like there was a massacre in the temple. And every night, Plo would shove past Vant and run to little Obi-Wan’s crib, leaving Vant to deal with the aftermath. Not that Vant couldn’t sympathize with the concern.
Little Obi-Wan had been an emergency rescue, found by Plo himself and taken straight to the Halls of Healing. After a thorough checkup - and brief Force healing session to fix the damage to his lungs - Vokara applauded Plo for his swiftness. Infants, especially force sensitives, are more prone to cold and sickness. Adding the fact that the infant was Stewjoni, and Obi-Wan most likely would’ve died had Plo been even a second slower.
(Of course, this was just half an hour after Vokara had shoved Plo out of the Halls of Healing with the statement “Get the kriff out of my medbay before I give you a reason to be here.”)
No, Obi-Wan was a perfectly healthy baby. The concern came with his silence.
Vant, in all her years as a Creche Master, had never had a silent child. Children, in her experience, all loud, not only in their voice but in their Force presence. Younglings are always babbling, talking in a language of their very own. Younglings scream and cry and yell and giggle. Their Force presence is similar to that of sunlight, bright and beautiful and bursting. It’s a common occurrence for mindhealers and their patients to come to the Creche and bask in the presence of younglings.
Obi-Wan, however, hasn’t made a single noise since his time in the Creche. He sits in his crib, simply watching those around him. Unlike the other younglings, whose presence were akin to stars and sunlight, Obi-Wan was a mere candle, almost unseen and close to flickering out. Most of the time Vant doesn’t notice him in the room until she’s staring into his wide, vibrant eyes. Vant has tried to get him to interact with the other younglings, but they lost interest when they realized they couldn’t get a reaction out of him. Vokara told her it was simply a trauma response due to his attempted murder by his mother and he’d grow out of it given time.
But then there were the night terrors.
(The first time it happened, Vant had just been getting the last of her younglings to sleep. One second she was monitoring Obi-Wan’s presence among the others in the Creche, the next he simply vanished. Vant felt her heart drop into her stomach as the Force went sharp around her. She ran over to the crib and grabbed the youngling below her. Thankfully, the youngling was alive, but he was experiencing some sort of nightmare. His heartbeat was running and his breath quickened. His eyes jumped around behind his eyelids before he took a deep breath. The nightmare ended just as fast as it started. Slowly, his Force presence came back into the room, as dim as always.)
(Immediately after, Plo came banging on her door for the first time.)
Vant had tried everything. She tried projecting her own calming Force presence, giving him sleeping medications, rocking him to sleep, staying awake and watching him sleep, and nothing seemed to work. For the first time in her years as a Creche Master, Vant didn’t know how to help her youngling, and it hurt something deep in her soul.
Vant had just finished soothing all her younglings before she sat down at one of the tiny tables, her knees pushed to her chest. She watched Plo take Obi-Wan out of the crib, making noises most likely meant to be soothing but they were just making her headache worse. The lack of sleep was really starting to get to her. She needed a karking drink. Maybe even a vacation. Definitely a pay raise at the very least.
Vant sighed before she scrubbed her hands together. Creche Masters are known for their adaptability and determination, and Vant has both of those in spades. She stroked her chin (a habit she got from her old master) as she began to plan.
Okay, so I have a youngling who refuses to interact with those around him, possibly restricting his social and emotional development. His force presence is so quiet I can barely tell what he is feeling or when he’s hungry, or sad, or even happy. Every other night or so, he experiences completely silent night terrors that make it seem like he died in the Force.
This causes Plo to freak out because of some kind of imprinted bond that tells him when Obi-Wan is in pain…both physically and spiritually? I guess? Plo then wakes up every other youngling in the Creche with his panic, so now my other younglings are losing their own sleep, and some are even beginning to have nightmares of their own…
In the midst of her planning, Vant had missed a distinct sound coming from the pair. When it registered, her head snapped over, eyes bulging out of her head.
In Plo’s arms, little Obi-Wan was chirping, bright and beautiful and bursting with light. Plo was cooing back much like a mother dove, swaying the baby in his arms. Vant watched Obi-Wan attempt to mimic the sound with his mouth, but the noise got caught between his lips and he blew raspberries instead. Shocked by his own sound, Obi-Wan smiled.
And then he giggled, and the Force twinkled like wind chimes in the spring.
Suddenly the solution became crystal clear. A smile stretched wide on Vant’s face. Oh why didn’t I think of this sooner?
Vant jumped from her seat, almost tripping over the chair in the process. Plo jumped at the noise and stared at her, seemingly having forgotten that she was there. With a giggle of her own (Vant really needs to go to bed), Vant began to rush around the room, grabbing baby blankets, bottles, pajamas, and even a small tooka plushie. She threw it all into a bag and walked over to Plo, shoving him towards the door. Obi-Wan remained secured in his arms, giggling at the turn of events.
“Bring him back in the morning before anyone else wakes up, use the backhalls if you need. The first two doors will be unlocked and open, and I’ll be waiting by the main door, so you can just hand him in quickly and no one will notice a thing. Also make sure to come back at the same time every night, so no one sees you. Comm me at any time for questions, but also please don’t, okay bye!”
With that, Vant shoved them both out the Creche and locked the door behind them.
Was it technically illegal for a youngling to sleep outside the Creche? Yes. Was it also very much illegal to pass off a youngling to someone that wasn’t a Creche Master without the needed paperwork, even just for a few hours? Yes. Was it even more illegal to not tell Master Windu or Master Yoda about it? Obviously. Were Master Yoda and Master Windu absolutely gonna freak out about “the dangers of attachment?” No karking shit.
But frankly, Creche Master Vant could not give two kriffs. She was tired, and absolutely ecstatic at the chance of getting a full nights rest after months of this bantha-shit. So all of that will be tomorrow’s problem.
…
Tomorrow afternoon.
- - - - - - -
Obi-Wan cuddles closer to the arm he’s hugging. The big, white fluffy thing that previously separated him and the Big Shiny Being was somewhere on the very, very far ground after Obi-Wan threw it away with The Tingling Feeling.
(DEMON DISGUSTING UNHOLY).
Obi-Wan has both arms and legs around the Being’s arm, and Obi-Wan smiled as he squashed his face into the Being’s palm.
(HE WILL LEAVE YOU HE WILL KILL YOU LIKE SHE DID LIKE HE WILL).
For the first time in a long time, Obi-Wan sleeps without a dream at all.
He does not dream of burning temples and bleeding children and soldiers in white.