Chapter Text
“Oh, shit,” Obi-Wan said.
“Language, Ben,” a soft and scathing voice said off from behind them.
“Who are you?” a softer, younger voice asked. “Are you a friend of Ben’s? And where’d you get that cool armor? Ben, when did you get new armor, huh?”
Jon looked around himself and felt the planet they were on. Mandalore. But it was tired and in more pain than he was used to. So how far in the past or the future were they, this time? He looked over to his companion, who had his helmet on. Jon raised an eyebrow.
“Yes. Right,” Obi-Wan said. “Satine, who goes by Tina right now, and Bo-Katan, who goes by Katie right now, this is Jedi Master Jon Antilles.”
“Finally! A competent adult who can help us,” the scathing older child said, and Jon could feel through his bond with Obi-Wan that he was offloading negative emotion as quickly as he could.
“Rude,” the little one said to the older one. Katie, to Tina.
“When are we?” Jon just asked.
“20561. Mandalorian Civil War.”
Jon thought about why that might be, and then checked with the Force. Ah. Right. Okay. That would be… technically easy, and socially… awkward? Maybe. Maybe not. It’s as awkward as you decide it’s going to be, that’s what Nico would say.
“Right. I am here. To take charge of the situation. Miss Kryze, please come with me a moment. Obi-Wan, explain things to little Bo-Katan, yes?” Jon asked, leaving no room for argument, and pushing reassurance down the bond to him.
Jon took Satine a ways away. Far enough that their conversation against the ruins of the building they were casually leaning against couldn’t be overheard.
“Miss Kryze, I know that you’ve been having sex with your under-age bodyguard, and while I do recognize that you are roughly the same age, you are in a position of power over him and the abuse of your power over him up until this point has been utterly egregious. It ends now. I don’t care how attractive you find him, you will act in a professional manner toward him, and offer him the respect that he deserves for doing an excellent job protecting both you and your sister, who have not been at all helpful in his efforts. No, please don’t speak. I understand you are a pacifist. I respect this. My own adopted mother is a pacifist. But you are far from her level of understanding of how to be nonviolent in your thought, word, and deed. Your egregious abuse of power in starting a liaison with your bodyguard, and enticing him to believe himself in love with you is a violent abuse of your power. When your father dies, and he may have already done so, you will come into even more power, despite your age. And one abuse leads to further abuses. It ends now. No seduction. No arguments. No trying to roast your bodyguard over the moral stance of violence when he is employing it to keep you alive - that makes you a hypocrite of the highest order. It is my difficult duty to inform you that you must grow up and accept that not everyone agrees with you, and if you try to change who they are, you will make more and more enemies, rather than allies. No. No arguments with me, either. You gave up that right when you ceded responsibility of this mission from your duly assigned bodyguard who was doing a stellar job of keeping you alive and putting up with you, to the nearest unknown Jedi Master. Well, this is the Jedi Master you chose, and I can promise you, there isn’t another one left on this planet. Are we fully and completely in agreement, Miss Kryze?”
A cowed young lady answered. “Yes, Master Antilles. Thank you for the clarification.”
“Now. Due to the Will of the Force, your Jedi Padawan has been temporarily replaced by his older, wiser self who still doesn’t want to have sex with you, and in fact, is engaged to others. When he takes off his helmet, he will look different. This is your warning. We will still keep you safe, and you will get to the rendezvous point, whether with us, or if we go and your Jedi Padawan returns to you, somewhat changed for the better. You and your sister will be safe, so act like the adult you are becoming, stop abusing your power, and stop being a hypocrite.”
“Yes, Master Antilles,” she said, looking even paler than before.
“Good talk,” he said, and walked back to Obi-Wan who was smiling and talking with the little one, which come to think of it… Hadn’t Jon met her at the Aswad compound? Wasn’t she one of Obi-Wan’s little cousins? Oh! Right! She ran away and arrived the same day Jon and Fay had.
Yes!
He recalled it, now.
Obi-Wan and Jon led them to a food vendor on the street, paying with the credits they had with them, which was probably more than Obi-Wan had during his mission.
‘The Force wants us to go back to the Aswad Compound,’ Jon said, foregoing their bond, as Obi-Wan had blocked his end of it. Jon just used telepathy instead. ‘It makes sense. It will be safe for us to meditate deeply and consult on what we need to do and in what time frame.’
‘Jango and Myles are enslaved right now, Jon. Right now. And we could get to the rendezvous point in a matter of hours, twenty at the most,’ Obi-Wan said, sounding desperate.
‘Yes. That is true. But I don’t think that’s what the Force has in mind for us, but we’ll know for certain when we have the safety to tether and ask.’
‘Jon, Jon I don’t want to be here with her. I can’t… she was so thoughtlessly cruel last time, and I haven’t really spoken to her since, I mean, not even at Jango’s War Council! She only attends rarely, and he usually warns me so I skip that one!’
‘Then this will help you get over that, too. You’re not alone in this one, and we have work to do. A wise padawan once schooled me on doing the work I needed to do to heal. Consider this me returning the favor.’
‘I hate you so much in this moment, Jon Antilles,’ Obi-Wan whined in his head.
‘Really? Doesn’t seem like that from over here.’
They ate their meal in quiet, in one of the pocket gardens of Keldabe, Satine and Bo-Katan with their hoods over their heads, as Jon wore his, and Obi-Wan without any outer robe at all, and not hiding his lightsaber, or his courting knives and slug throwing pistol and rifle slung over his back.
“We should bring presents, this time,” Obi-Wan said, and led them through the stalls to a vendor and spoke quietly with them. When Satine opened her mouth, the Force told Jon to touch her arm. She shut her mouth and looked subdued again. The little one, Bo-Katan tugged on his sleeve to get his attention.
“Can I ask about your armor, sir?” she said quietly.
Jon nodded.
“How come you painted it the way you did? For stealth?”
Jon smiled. “I like that black was a convenient color, but it stands for justice, and I am a weapon of justice, finely honed by my teacher to mete out justice for those who have no voice. I do some other things too, but that’s most of what I do, in helping people. I bring hypocrites and the power-mongerers to justice. Usually slavers, but you can find the abuse of power everywhere, even here. And the red and pink, one is for honoring a parent, and I honor my adopted mother, Fay, very highly. She is the finest Jedi in the galaxy, and she was the child of Mand’alor Tarre Vizsla. She is a healer. Perhaps one day you’ll meet her, and me, and if you do, I’ll know you met me before if you tell me this phrase - are you ready?”
Bo-Katan’s eyes were wide. She nodded vigorously. Jon squatted down and cupped his hand over her ear and whispered, just for her to hear.
“Rule four is complete banthashit, Jon.”
He rocked back on his heels and stood up as Bo-Katan giggled herself silly. “Rule four was one of my teacher’s rules. It was ‘Never go to Mandalore’. Not a good rule, obviously. And the pink is for respecting someone, and I respect my lover very much. I put the pink on for him.”
“Are you and older Obi… you know…” Bo-Katan gave him a significant look.
Jon shook his head. “No, he has a very loving polycule he belongs to. I love a Jedi named Sifo-Dyas. I think he’s back at the Temple right now.” The Force assured him that he was, and Jon smiled to know he was still alive in this timeline.
“Older Obi is… his armor is different. And painted. He says a lot is different, and that a lot of time has passed for him. Has it passed for you, too?” Bo-Katan asked.
Jon nodded, as Obi-Wan continued his negotiations, and Satine continued to listen quietly.
“He’s four years older than when you knew him an hour ago. And we became friends when we met here on Mandalore, three years ago. Don’t worry. This civil war won’t last too much longer. We’ll be with you for a little while, and then we’ll go, but you and I will likely meet again, little one.”
Then Obi-Wan was done and they all walked to a certain side street and rang the bell at the back door. Five large crates locked together were pushed out the door and Obi-Wan signed a datapad and nodded, pushing the crates to the far dark corner of the alley.
‘You wrap the shadows, I’ll teleport us,’ Jon said telepathically.
‘Warn them first, or they’ll scream, and that’s not a good piece of entrance music, Jon,’ Obi-Wan reminded him.
‘Right. Thanks.’
Jon did warn them, and it went off without a hitch.
The Aswad Clan were perhaps surprised to see them, but they were welcomed, particularly with five crates of supplies. They were met by the Clan Head, and when Jon shooed their charges further into the compound with one of the clan members who would show them to a room to rest in, likely the room they would all share, then Obi-Wan took off his helmet.
“It’s good to see you again, Clan Head,” he said in Mando’a. “I am much changed, as you see, because I am from four years in the future. May we speak with you in the Forge? With Tenedre?”
“Tenedre?” the Clan Head asked, looking back and forth between them. “Why Tenedre?”
Obi-Wan leaked his happiness. “Because he and Ruusan will adopt me in less than a year.”
That got them their audience, and it got Obi-Wan a forehead kiss from the Clan Head as well.