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Chapter Text

The explosion blew through the air, scraping past Luke’s mind and pushing through his body. Alarm bells raised in his mind as his stomach swooped and limbs swung as if a tether had been wrapped around him and pulled tightly. His sight vanished as his body swung through the air, a frigid wind replacing the fiery hot crackle that had climbed over his skin. 

Then the ground slammed into him and his mind swirled at the metal floor beneath his hands, pressing against his side and his temple. 

Metal? 

Pain arched through his neck as he brought his head up and blinked away the blur in his vision. A room passed into view, pressing against his senses and stabbing a dull ache between his eyes. The trees of Yavin were replaced by walls twice his height, darkened with a yellow hue of grungy lights that clung to the ceiling. A singular door stood against the contrast, silver against the brown, and no clear way to open it. The sounds of wind rustling through leaves and branches overhead turned into a dull hum and an aching groan. 

Sharp fear rang through his spine as the groan grew louder before he pushed himself to his other side and locked his gaze upon the sound’s source. Silver beskar gleamed against the light and another shot struck through Luke as the body it clung to moved. 

“Din…” Luke rasped. 

The beskar helmet shifted toward him, the visor tilting as a cough and wheeze escaped through the modulation within it. “Luke.”

Senses of throbbing pain swelled through the gaps in the armor toward him, the Force rippling through the space between them. It mirrored the wells of aches that ran through Luke’s muscles. Slushing acid rose in his stomach as the feelings wrapped around him and seared into his being, slicing at his heart and tearing at his soul. 

Slowly, he pushed himself up and crawled toward the man, his husband, his light. 

“Where…?” Din’s voice shook as his own arms worked him into a seated position. 

Luke shook his head. “I can’t tell.” 

The visor snapped to him and a hand shot out, steadying Luke before his arms wobbled into a fit. Din’s hand pulled the robes at his shoulder, dragging him close and wrapping around his back. His body slumped into the hold as Din’s slumped back against him. 

Silence lapsed into the moment, only filled by heavy breathing and the persistent humming of the lights. Though neither spoke, a mutual understanding flickered between them, and the moment continued onward. Comfort seeped through both men as their minds slowed their mad spiral as their hearts raced into a softer beat. 

One of his hands trailed up to his neck, pushing away the folds in his robes and the fabric of his undershirt to wrap around the leather string around his neck. His fingers found purchase around a pointy object, devoid of anything in the Force. Then his eyes shuffled over Din’s armor, taking in the weapons that still clung to his figure and the saber that was strapped to his belt. He felt the weight of his own saber against his hip. A moment of relief filled him, which brought a slightly hysterical sense to him. 

The Force brushed against Luke and he opened himself to it. Light rushed in, cascading over his senses like a supernova and searing through his every nerve. His mental walls shuttered, before jumping back up and shielding the onslaught, but not preventing the headache that bloomed over his skull. His hand squeezed around the pendant tightly. 

“Luke?” Din’s voice dragged him back. “What is it?” 

“The Force,” Luke explained, “It’s not right, it’s too bright.” 

“Oh,” Din responded and Luke knew that his husband didn’t understand. 

“I can’t figure out where we are right now, or how we got here.” The apologetic tone leaked into his voice, but then the arm around him squeezed and pulled him closer. 

“Magic osik.” Din’s helmet leaned into his head.

Luke snorted, correcting him, “Force osik.” 

The rumble that left Din’s chest was worth the small comment as they lapsed back into the humming noise.

Memories came forth as Luke racked his brain for a semblance of understanding. Only moments ago, he had walked with dirt beneath him and the sun overhead. The humid heat of Yavin had been beaten back by the cooling breeze that swept across each plateau and cliff and valley. Beside him, Din’s flickering force signature swept past the trees and benches. The view of the Jedi temple had only been a stone’s throw away. He had been making a small comment, about Leia and Grogu, when an explosion of heat and brightness swamped around him. 

Had someone attacked the temple?

The thought spiraled further, setting off a domino effect within his mind that tapered to all the worse case scenarios. But on instinct, he took a deep breath, the anxiety flying to a slower pace, and he breathed it out. 

Whatever had happened, he would deal with it, and he could deal with it. 

Din was here with him. 

Grogu hadn’t been in the temple, he had been star systems away in the over-protective arms of his aunt. 

They still had their weapons. 

Those were three things that he didn’t need to worry about. 

“Can you get up?” Luke asked and pulled himself out of his husband’s grip, slowly pushing the beskar necklace back under his robes.

The Mandalorian nodded and turned his visor toward the door as if gears were turning in his mind. Then Luke watched as his figure shoved off the floor and stood against the towering walls, his feet only taking three gliding steps before his hand pressed against the silver metal. Then his hand reached down to the saber at his side. 

Luke pulled himself to his feet as Din ignited the Darksaber. 

He felt a deep sense of pride fill his stomach and chest at the sight before him. A year ago, the man wouldn’t have even thought about the weapon, and perhaps, it wouldn’t have even been clipped to his belt, but instead stowed away in a locked box. 

The visor looked back at him, the helmet tilting toward the door. Their gazes met for a singular moment before Luke nodded and steeled himself. His eyes snapped to the door, his hand drifting toward his lightsaber. 

Before Din could raise the Darksaber against the metal, the door swung open and a Stormtrooper with lines of orange across their armor appeared. Their blaster raised, the barrel aiming toward them as an order barked out of their modulator. 

“Get back!” 

Din had already stepped backward in a defensive, the Darksaber raising before him as his shoulder tensed. 

Something in Luke pushed his feet forward, his saber igniting and sending light bouncing off the walls. A powerful sensation broke through him, a knowing that drove him to deflect the blast that swept toward Din’s unarmored neck and reflect back toward the Stormtrooper. It stung the wall behind the man’s head, a finger’s length from hitting his helmet. 

The Stormtrooper jumped back, his blaster immediately lowering, and his voice darting out, tauntingly familiar, “General! I’m sorry!” 

The words made Luke pause, something about irking through his brain, and he swept a hand out behind him, pausing his husband as well. He looked closer at the man before him, taking in the grooves of his armor, his signature in the Force, and the blaster in his hands. 

A sinking feeling opened in his stomach, diving into a pitted well, as he stared up at the Clone Trooper. 

His head pounded, threatening to split open. 

“General…?” The Clone Trooper asked, his head sweeping from Luke and then to the Darksaber held in Din’s hands. 

“Waxer! What’s the holdup?” Another familiar voice called from down the hallway and Luke felt Din jolt behind him. 

Another Clone Trooper came into view moments later, nearly identical to the other except for a difference in the orange paint upon their helmet. Then there were their Force signatures, burning bright from inside their armor, but with slightly different rays and outputs. Luke couldn’t quite put his finger on the difference, but it was staggering and it set the men completely apart from one another. 

“I think there’s been a… misunderstanding.” Luke settled for the word as he extinguished his lightsaber. 

“Clearly, General,” The Clone Trooper, Waxer, replied, “We didn’t know you were here.” 

“Oh, no, not that…” Luke glanced back at Din, who still raised the Darksaber. His Force signature darted between the gaps of his armor with licks of protectiveness and confusion. “None of this is right. I'm not sure how to explain, but...” 

“Sir…?” Waxerr’s voice wavered, his head swiveling back to the Clone Trooper beside him. 

Luke felt his shoulders turn taut as he looked back at them, the question leaving his lips tasting like sulfur. “What year is it?”

Chapter Text

Thirty years, they had traveled roughly thirty years into the past. 

The initial surprise wore off quickly though, it slid from the back of Luke’s mind and vanished into the Force. With it, he took a deep breath and looked at the two troopers in front of him. His heart rate rose as he spoke to them, a chill ran down his spine and anxiety clenched at his arms. 

“We’re in the wrong time then,” Luke explained to the men in a steady voice, “Because as far as I know, the Clone Wars ended over thirty years ago.” 

The two jolted at the words before their helmets swung to look at each other. Waxer’s visor then turned back to them, tilting up and down as he looked at them both. His voice faltered as he asked, “Are you sure?” 

Luke nodded and pursed his lips, he looked away from the two and turned to his husband. 

The Mandalorian looked between him and the troopers, before lowering the Darksaber. The blade disappeared back into the hilt, leaving the world with a crackle and hiss, before clicking back onto his belt. His hands returned to his side as his fingers twitched slightly, ready to pull at any of the weapons he had in his arsenal. 

Their gazes met at Din’s visor and Luke felt his shoulders relax, but his mind began to tumble forward as he turned back to the Clone Troopers. 

“We’re taking you back to our general,” Waxer said. “He’ll understand this better than us, if what you’re saying is true.” 

“Force osik isn’t in our repertoire,” the other Clone Trooper agreed, “But our general is a great Jedi, so he’ll probably know more and be able to help you.” 

The words felt like someone had kicked out his knees and slammed him into the floor. Logically, he knew that the Jedi Order had existed during the Clone Wars and had been involved in it, but he hadn’t expected it. Ben had told him about the old Jedi and what their ways, but Luke had never dreamed of meeting one that wasn’t more than a remnant of what had been. His stomach twisted as he realized how real this was, as the thoughts he had laid to rest slowly crawled their way back to the surface. 

Words turned to ash on his tongue as he opened his mouth to speak, only to speak a soft and unsure, “Uhm…” 

Din stepped forward, resting a hand on Luke’s shoulder with a gentle squeeze and his helmet tilted toward the two troopers. “That would probably be best.” 

The hallway outside of the cell floated in darkness with the hue of green and yellow lights, the darkish brown walls cluttered with scratches and blaster burns. Horrid smells floated in the air, burning fleshing and decaying wires mixing together to create a concoction that burned at Luke’s nostrils. Each step led further into the winding path of hallways, but the constantness was offset by Din’s shoulder brushing against his own and the occasional turn into a larger room connected to more hallways. 

Waxer led them, the back of his helmet bobbing with each step and turning whenever another trooper hurried by. He spoke into a comm at his wrist, which numerous voices would reply back through, each sounding the same.

Each sounded like Boba Fett, a fact that made Luke’s stomach churn and his head swivel. He hadn’t known that Fett was a clone, but it made so many things line up. All the various comments that people made about the man, to things that Boba said himself, whenever Luke and Din had shown up on Tatooine unannounced. 

When he glanced at Din, who stared ahead at Waxer, he had a feeling that his husband hadn’t realized either. Or if he had, the reality of it was only hitting him now. 

As if feeling his gaze, Din looked over to him and whispered, “ Force osik? ” 

It was the same tone of voice that the tall clone trooper walking behind them had used, the same inclinations and drops. With a jolt, Luke realized the Mando’a that Din was emphasizing, and the slight question in his voice. 

He hadn’t even realized the way the clone had said it, as if it was the most natural thing in the world. Maybe Luke had spent too much time around people that mixed Mando’a into basic during their everyday conversations, or maybe it was the shock of the situation, but either way, his brows raised at the new realization. 

It never occurred to him that the clones would know Mando’a, even if they were clones of a Mandalorian. 

Before he could reply, his husband’s hands jolted forward and into patterns. Tusken sign language, with years of practice put behind it and experience to boot. 

“ What … tell them?” Din signed, but part of the grammar and words were lost on Luke. He blinked for a moment before moving his hands up, carefully signing back in the way his husband had taught him. 

“ I don’t know.” Luke signed and then pursed his lips, as he tried to figure out how to articulate his thoughts without knowing enough of the language. “ Name, no. ”

A moment passed before his husband nodded and signed back to him. “ Use mine. ” 

A small smile played on Luke’s lips as he replied, “ Yes, that is good. ”

“ Don’t tell … my name .” Din signed. “ Tell … Mando. ”

Luke nodded back to them as they stepped into a larger area. Hangar doors appeared at the far side, some open to the dusty dry world beyond and others warped metal with burnt holes across them. A few ships were in the hangar, but with a glance, Luke knew they weren’t in a state to fly. It was what surrounded them that gave him pause; groups of clones were setting up equipment or pushing carts around, labeled with “supplies” across their sides. 

The place fell away from him in his memories, foreign completely. He couldn't recall such a place that he stayed looking like this, whether it was with the rebellion or on his many excursions across the galaxy for Jedi artifacts. Yet, the thrum of people moving around and the urgency mingling in the air tasted like memories of his years fighting the Empire. A wave of nostalgia wound through him, something he was always surprised to feel, whenever he thought of moments like this in his past. 

“Where are we?” Luke asked Waxer as they came to a stop. 

The man’s helmet looked back at him. “The hangar?” 

“I mean what planet…” Luke rubbed the back of his neck. 

“Oh, right,” Waxer chuckled, “We’re on Delta Evin, sir.” 

The name drew a blank in Luke’s mind as he swept his gaze toward Din, who gave him a subtle shake of his head and crossed his arms. A kernel of hopelessness popped into his anxiety at the sight, before he took another calming breath and looked away. It didn’t really matter that they didn’t know where they were, he told himself, they were already in the wrong time. 

A brush against his shields had him jumping and he raised his walls up further, slamming them around himself in a way that leaves no openings. He double-checked them before turning toward the cause, feeling his migraine begin to crawl behind his eyes and down his neck. 

His gaze flickers to one of the hangar doors and his heart stopped, as a small group of clones marched inside. Along with them was a man that wore Jedi robes, but with some portions of armor; pauldrons, vambraces. His red hair caught the light that snuck inside behind them, he walked with calculated steps, almost as if gliding across the ground, and held his head high. 

Old Ben’s face had never looked so young, but Luke knew the beard and eyes of his former mentor anywhere. 

Even at the distance, Luke could see the way Ben’s eyes darted between him and Din, almost looking through them as they got closer. Confusion muddled there in his body language, barely visible, with touches of curiosity and interest. As he got closer, Luke noticed the layer of concern and stress that had seemed to follow the man around permanently as well. 

In terms of the Force, Ben’s signature flickered with a brightness that struck Luke like the setting suns of Tatooine. Passion and belief danced along it, threading through and sparking off into the sky. With a sharp sense of sadness, Luke thought back to the Master that he had known in his homeworld, of the dull Force signature that he could barely grasp through his untrained mind. Bright, but faded, strong, but sleeping. 

“General Kenobi.” Waxer snapped to attention as the men stepped up to them. Din’s helmet snapped at the words, his body sliding into a taller and more alert stance. 

“Waxer, I heard you had an interesting situation.” Ben’s, no, Kenobi’s voice rose like a ship through the atmosphere, the syllables and wariness of it cutting past Luke in a smooth fashion. His heart hurt as he recognized the rises, the amusement that circled the man’s tone like a familiar lullaby from home. 

“Yes, sir,” Waxer replied, “We found these two in a holding cell, claiming that they’re not from this time.”

“That is very interesting.” Kenobi’s gaze turned to them and Luke felt his stomach swoop down to his feet. He met the man’s gaze while taking another deep steadying breath, his nerves pulling at each other as if they had been caught on fire. 

“I’m sure that you need to confirm our claim,” Luke said as steadily as he could, hoping he was hiding his Outer Rim accent well enough. 

“You’re right, I wouldn’t believe such a fantastic claim without evidence.” There was a slight edge in Kenobi’s tone, but Luke pushed through it with a nod. 

Wordlessly, he raised his hands and pulled the glove off of his right hand, before rolling up the sleeve. His tanned skin turned pale abruptly at the synthetic skin, the scars upon his arms disappearing completely. With a finger, he pulled up the skin and slid it off, holding it alongside the glove. The metal glinted in the light, the gears and wires shifting underneath as he turned it over. 

His voice sounded small when he spoke again, the foreign diplomacy dropping into his voice. “You can analyze this, many of the technologies for it haven’t been invented yet.” 

Gazes snapped to the metal, and for a moment, Luke could feel the phantom burn across the artificial limb. Something about it left a hole within him as if someone was looking into the deepest part of his soul, and he wanted them out. The only thing that kept his hand steady was the Force signature at his side, escaping out toward him like a protective blanket. 

“I can’t take it off,” Luke added after a moment, “It’s been programmed into my nervous system.” 

He adjusted his hand, bending it carefully and turning it, showing off all the different components and wires within. He knew that it was a model that hadn’t been seen yet because it had only been invented within a few months of him receiving it. The metal plating moved differently than older prostheses, more fluidly and rapidly, and with the artificial skin cover, it was almost impossible to tell that it wasn’t real. 

“I think he’s telling the truth, sir,” a clone that stood at Kenobi’s side spoke, “I’ve never seen a prosthesis like that before.” 

Kenobi glanced at the man beside him as a soft look fell over his face, his brows barely furrowing before he looked back to Luke’s hand. “Neither have I.” 

“You said it was connected to your nerves?” The clone stepped forward and leaned his shoulders forward. The man’s helmet became level with Luke’s head as the man leaned, a sharp and sudden reminder of how tall everyone was around him. 

But something else caught his eyes, as he observed the man. If Kenobi’s Force signature was similar to a sunset, this man’s was a sunset. His aura cast off light like the Tatooine twin suns setting on the horizon, floating with pinks and oranges and yellows. It hit more than the other clones around him, not because it was strong at all, but because of how much it bent toward the men around him. 

A familiar feeling settled in Luke’s stomach at the sight of it and he found himself trusting this man when he didn’t even know his name. 

“That’s right.” Luke held out his hand to him, letting him hold it and take a closer look. “It took hours and sometimes it still does need to be reprogrammed.” 

“Like when?” The clone asked as he turned it over in his hand, his gloves running over parts of the metal and wires. 

“Like when it gets crushed.” 

“Oh.” Kenobi’s eyebrows shot up as the clone dropped Luke’s hand like it had shocked him. “Well, let’s try not to let that happen.” 

“It’s only happened once,” Luke replied as he pulled his hand back. 

“Twice,” Din corrected him, “The time on Corellia counts.” 

“Ah, you’re right, I forgot about that.” He pulled the skin back over his hand, stretching it up his wrist before adding the glove on top. 

His gaze drifted back to Kenobi, whose eyes darted between him and Din in a narrowed fashion. Gears seemed to turn behind his eyes before he dropped his hand from his chin and carefully slotted them behind his back as he stood taller. A small smile graced his face and he spoke next. 

“Well, now that that’s settled, let me introduce myself,” Kenobi said, “I’m Jedi Master Obi-Wan Kenobi.”

“I know,” Luke replied, and added hastily when Kenobi’s eyebrows raised, “We haven’t met yet, and probably won’t for some time. I’m Jedi Master Luke Djarin and this is Mando.” 

Din’s head tilted as Luke gestured to him, his hands finding his hips as he adjusted his stance. Heads turned toward him at the introduction, and Luke caught sight of Kenobi’s interested scan again. 

“Mando?” One clone asked, tilting his head. “You don’t go by anything else?” 

“Mando is fine.” Din’s helmet turned to the man. 

“Ah, well, in that case,” Kenobi said as he ripped his eyes away from them, “This is my commander, Cody.”

He turned and rested his hand on the shoulder of the clone closest to him, the one that had taken a look at Luke’s hand. Cody nodded to both of them, allowing a better look at his armor and the way it differed from the men around him. He had a guard over his visor and an antenna that stuck out from one of his pauldrons. More lines were across his armor, specifically over his cuirass, that stretched like rays of light. 

His Force signature began to ebb into the atmosphere around him as Kenobi held his shoulder, almost as if bubbles were floating off of him. 

“It’s nice to meet you, Commander Cody.” Luke nodded to him, carefully holding his hands together in front of him. 

The man’s visor dipped down to him, a moment passing before the nod was returned. “Likewise, sir.”

It was Din that broke into the conversation next, his voice cutting through like a knife. “We’re hoping that you have a way to help us get back to our own time.” 

Kenobi looked back toward them, his finger finding the edge of his chin as his eyes narrowed. “The Jedi have had cases like this one in the past, though not for hundreds of years as far as I’m aware. It might be best that we speak with the Council to figure out a way to help you.” 

The words clenched Luke’s stomach, but his instincts rose as his head nodded on its own accord. Memories flickered across his mind at the numerous meetings he had, from dealing with Senate officials over the past few years to the meetings he had been dragged to during the rebellion. An uneasy feeling settled on his shoulders, but as familiar to him as the weight of his metal hand. 

“How long will that take?” Din asked. The soles of his boots squeaked against the metal floors as he shifted, his shielded arms clinking together as they crossed over his chest. Uneasiness and worry drifted from him through the Force, a nostalgic sense clinging to it all. 

Grogu , Luke knew instantly and he felt the same worry begin to circle into his chest, slowly transforming into concern and wariness. 

“Meetings in person are rare during this time,” Kenobi said as he gestured around the hangar, “But it is possible to have one through a hologram call.” 

Luke jolted, an alarm blaring through him faster than he expected, and he found himself shaking his head. “That’s not secure enough.” 

“I can assure you, they’re very secure,” Kenobi replied as he frowned. 

“We’re from the future, Master Kenobi,” Luke said, mustering as much strength as he could into his voice, “We know what happens when the war ends, if anyone finds out that fact and they have ill-intentions… well, I’d rather it not come to that.” 

The implications fell over the group, hushing a silence among them as the clones glanced at each other. Silent words and thoughts echoed in the air, slipping past Luke in the Force, and he felt his stomach twist as he tasted them. His mind began to spiral again as one of the clones stepped closer. 

“Could you tell us about the future…?” The clone asked. 

Another nodded and stuttered out, “Did we win?” 

Gazes tore into him as he sucked in a long breath, his head stuttering to the side, to the beskar weight in the Force. His husband’s visor had ducked down, his head turning just as strangely to look at him. Then his hands fluttered into the air, breaking into sharp movements. 

“ Tell them … future? ” Din asked. 

A sinking feeling tore at him as he replied. “ Feel bad. I don’t know. ”

“ Not safe? ”

“ Yes, no. ” Luke frowned. “ I don’t know. ”

“We have more pressing matters, Wooley, Crys,” Kenobi’s voice said over their conversation, launching them back into a verbal state. “Like how to send them back to their time.” 

Currents flowed through his nerves as he looked back to the Master Jedi, feeling a slight nudge against his shields. Warmth of fire licked at the edges, like an ember tending to a hearth, sparks floating in the air of the night sky. Each one tasted like memories of his aunt holding him during the Tatooine night, whispering to him about stories long forgotten. 

It took only a moment, but he pressed back against the nudge in the same way he did with Leia. As if slowly sliding a hand against one offered, a brush of knuckles against fingers, wind against sand. 

“I think I have a compromise, about the Council,” Luke said. 

Din’s head tilted toward him as all eyes snapped to him. 

Luke continued and gestured with his hand, “You can notify the Council of this event, but being able to speak face-to-face is better. I don’t think we need the help of everyone in the Council to find a solution either. You are already pressed for resources and support with this war, you don’t need to waste more than what is needed on us.” 

“Are you proposing that you will only need the help of one council member?” Kenobi asked. 

“One or two,” Din answered before Luke could, “You are at war, you cannot waste important resources on us.” 

There was that spark of his husband, charging forward with experience and values at arm. His voice clipped into assertion, grown painfully over the past few years with arguments and politics shoved onto his shoulders. It only grew as he learned how to hold himself, how to lead a people, how to wield the saber at his side until he could switch seamlessly between Din Djarin and Mand'alor the Shepherd. 

The men turned to Din as he spoke, their stances shifting as if standing up straighter as if someone had screamed for attention. Din held his head high against the eyes turning to him and continued on. 

“Is it not reasonable that only one or two Jedi Masters are needed to help us?” Din asked. 

“You make a good point, it is reasonable,” Kenobi replied. 

Cody turned to Kenobi, his helmet tilting as he spoke. “General Koon is in a nearby star system with the 104th.” 

“Well, he would have more than enough experience for a situation like this, I’m sure.” The corners of Kenobi’s mouth twitched as he spoke, a glint falling over his eyes as he turned to the Commander. “Let the men on the Negotiator know about this situation and choose a company to secure this location once we leave, I’ll see to contacting the Jedi Council.”

An affirmative left his helmet as some flickers sparked across Cody’s force signature, before vanishing entirely. Then the man turned to the clones around him and gestured sharply to the men around him. “Make these two feel at home, we leave at 1900 hours.” 

Cody and Kenobi swung away together, their shoulders running parallel as they swept through the hangar. With them, left the small nudge against Luke’s shields, the crackling warmth of a fire receding the further they stepped away from them. A cold feeling slotted at the edge of his mind, slowly dissipating as he turned away and to the small group of men surrounding them. 

“Well, that’s in two hours,” Waxer said.

The visor on Din’s helmet swept to Waxer, with only a small glance toward Luke, before he spoke, “I need to speak with Master Djarin… privately.” 

“Let’s find you somewhere to talk then, huh?” Another clone snorted and waved his hand, turning toward the hallways again. 

The long corridors blended together again as Luke followed the man, the Force reaching over him and seeping into the sides of his visions. Tensions of light streamed around him as he slowly reached into the Force, feeling it out with small prods and gentle coaxing. The brightness slowly faded around him, simpering in the way his eyes adjusted to being outside during midday on Tatooine. 

Elements of light and life speckled the Force, dotting the galaxy as he spread out his reach and searched. Kenobi’s fire-like signature burned like a star, wafting warmth and rejuvenation into the world as he moved among the small signatures of the clones. Another signature far away stormed like a sea but plenished like a monsoon. And an even more distant one sang a familiar tune, like humidity rising from swampy mud beneath one’s feet. 

The entire universe was lit up like fireworks across a dark night sky. 

It ached a hole into Luke’s chest. 

He dragged himself away from the Force, finding himself standing in the middle of a room. Holes burned into his shoulders, and he turned to the three sets of eyes looking down at him. Two white-and-orange helmets, and one silver helmet, watching him as if he had grown a second head. 

“Oh, sorry,” Luke said as his hands squeezed each other, “Did you say something?” 

“No…” Waxer shook his head. “You mumbled something about the Force.” 

Luke smiled and ducked his head. “Well, I’m sorry about that… I got carried away.” 

Din’s feet shifted closer to him, barely noticeable as he swiveled his head toward the two clones. The cold stare came through his visor, silence as his weapon as his helmet faced them. His gaze struck them, their postures straightening. 

Waxer spoke first, “Well, Boil and I will leave you two alone now…” 

“Yeah, we’ll just be a few doors down.” The other clone, Boil, gestured toward the hallway. 

Another shift from Din sent both of them walking out of the room, their helmets snapping away from him. The door shut behind them with a whirl of mechanisms, leaving gaping stillness and a silver helmet’s visor aimed toward the door. 

The Mandalorian shifted again, fingers twitching on his sides as he stared toward the metal door. 

“They’re not afraid of you,” Luke whispered, “They’re afraid of the reputation of the saber you carry.” 

His husband turned away from the door, the rigidity of his shoulders gliding away. The tightness that wrapped him melted away, slowly fading into the Force around him. His feet stepped over the floor, colliding their spaces together as his body leaned forward and his helmet bonked against Luke’s forehead. 

Before Din could pull away, Luke wrapped a hand around the back of his neck and held him still. He pressed his helmet against the cold beskar and let his eyes fall closed. As his arm rested against his husband’s shoulder, he let his other hand reach out and grasp onto Din’s hand. With one small squeeze, he fell into the comfort they had crafted for themselves. The small space, available only in each other’s arms, welcomed them home. 

The moment bore on, wrapping comfort around them. It was small moments like these that Luke had come to cherish over the years, moments where they could be alone and hold each other without oppressive eyes bearing down on them. Infinite amounts of warmth and love spread through his body, parts of his soul sighing in relief in ways that he hadn’t known they could. Only one part was missing from the equation, a small piece of the puzzle that created a huge impact on both of them. 

Grogu. Luke thought numbly. Grogu.

He didn’t have to imagine the pain that his husband felt over their son, not with the way his fear seeped out of his armor and pooled at their feet. Rancid flavors fell over Luke’s tongue as he felt it swamp at his feet, and he pulled away from his husband. 

For the first time since he had realized their situation, the reality of it washed over him. The past slammed into him like an illegally modified speeder, throwing his mind into the chaos of it all. 

“Luke,” Din said. 

A shudder ran through his spine at the restraint of emotions that leaked through Din’s modulator, but he found himself looking back up at his husband. 

“You’re worried about changing our present.” Din’s voice fell. Ripples of concern flooded off of him as Luke found himself reminded of how well they had come to know each other. 

“We could make it worse,” Luke admitted, “I want to believe we could make it better, that we could save millions of lives, but if we make it worse…” 

“I understand.” Din leaned forward and pressed his forehead to Luke’s again. “We don’t know if… we’d ever get the chance to meet either.” 

Grogu’s name floated in the air between them, a flicker of pain flaring through the Force like a small explosion. 

Luke took a deep breath, nodding as he replied, “That too… A part of me wants to get home, to keep things the way they are, but another wants to save everyone I can and change things… to stop all the horrible things that will happen.” 

“Do you believe it’s possible that if you do change things, we will still meet?” Din’s voice grew lower. 

The thought of never meeting Din pained him, as if someone had ripped his heart through from his ribcage. He closed his eyes against it but thought for a moment for any semblance of optimism that he could muster. Anything to make the sharp pain turn into a dull ache. 

“Maybe.” Luke tilted his nose closer to Din’s helmet as he spoke, moving to hold onto his shoulders. “It’s a possibility. If the Force wills it.” 

“The Force.” An abyss opened in Din’s voice, as it usually did whenever the Force was involved with anything. “Is that what sent us here?” 

“I think so.” Luke shrugged as he pulled back once again and gestured around. “I can’t prove it though, not yet.” 

“If it was the Force… why would it do that?” 

“I don’t know,” Luke admitted. “Maybe it… maybe it wants us to change the past.” 

His husband’s helmet dropped, rolling toward his shoulder. “I don’t understand.” 

“I”m not sure if I can explain it well… I just don’t know yet,” Luke admitted with a small laugh. 

That was the problem, Luke realized, he didn’t know anything. The Force gave him no answers when he reached out to it, only a gentle nudge and warm embrace as it always had.

“Luke.” His husband’s hands found his shoulders, gently squeezing them. “We will figure this out together. I promise, whatever happens, I won’t leave your side.” 

The words stretched out toward his soul and he leaned back in to press his forehead to his husband’s, letting the words roll over him before replying. 

“Even if it means changing things so greatly that… that we may never meet? That I might never be born?” He asked. 

“If it comes to that, I...” Din’s voice shuttered, his shoulders dropping. “I don’t know if I can promise that.” 

Luke sighed, “May the Force be with us.”

Chapter Text

Cody didn’t know what to think about the two time-travelers, even after a few hours had passed since their introduction. 

The Jedi wore enough black to fade into a shadow, enough to be mistaken as a Sith. Something about the starkness of the color drove an alarm in Cody’s mind. His experience bled into those thoughts, pulling memories of the majority of Jedi he had met or talked about, who did not wear such dark robes. The only one that came close was Anakin Skywalker, who at least threw in dark browns every so often.

On the other hand, the Mandalorian’s silver armor screamed of pure beskar. Light bounced off of it when he moved, reflections of faces and objects crossing the polished surface. There were marks at the sides, but Cody knew he could rub those away with his thumb alone. The worth of that armor alone made his skin crawl, but the way the man wore it nearly drove him up a wall. 

Cody’s eyes bounced between them and his brothers as they stood at the hangar doors, their voices echoing around the room in a small hum. The words were indecipherable, but laughter would follow every once in a while and dance around the shipments and crates. An inkling in his chest fought to drag him over to the conversation, to join in and learn as much about those men as he possibly could, but the lights of his commlink kept him firmly in place. 

Incoming information and the movement of troops kept him on his toes, his back cracking loudly as he turned and twisted to look around the hangar. 

“Shipments are almost done on this side,” Rex’s voice crackled through his commlink. “How’s your side of the base?” 

“Two more crates and we’ll be done.” Cody glanced toward the hangar doors. “You’ll secure this outpost before moving on to your next campaign.” 

“Really think we need a break?” His brother teased. 

Cody repressed the smirk that threatened to cross his face, forcing a professional tone into his voice. “No, this planet is just the perfect stepping stone for your next deployment. Another battalion will relieve you and your men in three rotations, then you’ll be free to catch up with your General.” 

“Well, I’d come to say goodbye to your ugly yellow shebs , but I have a bad feeling my vod’ike have something planned.” 

Cody rolled his eyes, feeling the words start to pull his professionalism away, before responding, “Orange, Rex, it’s orange.” 

Of course, there was no reply. 

The static of his commlink buzzed off, leaving the pounding of boots and voices quipping back and forth to ring around his head instead. Dull aches radiated in rhythm with the sounds as he pinched the bridge of his nose, letting out a long and suffering sigh. 

The endings of campaigns or missions irritated him, from the amount of data work that he’d be given as a result to the numerous troops he now had to reign in. They left a pounding in his mind as he looked over at everything, tying off every last detail and restarting for the next leg of the war. 

This campaign had been rather simple in concept: secure a Separatist base on a desolate planet, thereby cutting off certain communication and supply routes through their army. But now the task was integrating the base into their system, adding their own communications and supply routes to it. He’d have to complete a datapad worth of work to cover it, all while preparing to turn his men around to aid the 104th. 

His batchmate, Wolffe, was notorious for his bad luck. Somehow his recon mission to a tiny planet that had only been rediscovered a few years previous to the war had turned into an aid mission. Then the Separatists had caught wind of what was happening on Arduj and a full-out invasion had landed on top of the 104th, spreading their numbers across the planet. 

At this point, Cody wouldn’t be surprised if he and his brother had matching gray streaks within the following year. 

The thought made him push his hand against the edge of his helmet, imagining the color appearing at his roots already and the way it would feel against his fingertips. He sighed through his nose and glanced down at the datapad in his hands. The screen snickered at him as he went through his next tasks, swiping through them as efficiently as possible, but always stopping to double-check. 

“I think that you’ve sighed at least five times now,” his general’s voice said. 

The words bounced around in his head as he looked toward the man, catching the smirk at the edge of his visor. For a moment, he felt his heart sputter before he was able to push its cowardly treason away, letting it beat again. 

“General,” Cody said with every ounce of professionalism he could. When any other word failed to come to him, his eyes darted to the man’s tilting lips once again. A feeling grew at the back of his mind, that he quickly turned away from. 

Kenobi’s hands fell behind his back, his shoulders relaxing as he stood taller with his head raised. “I had a question for you.” 

“What is it?” The holopad fell back to his side as he turned his full attention to the general, his feet shifting underneath him to urge him back into a sharper and more formal stance. 

That was when Kenobi’s eyes drifted away from him to the hangar door that he had turned away from minutes ago. A curious look filled his face as his hand found his chin, stroking the edges of his beard. 

“What do you think of our new company?” Kenobi asked.

Cody took a deep breath, steeling his feelings and thoughts in place. “I still find it hard to believe that they’re time travelers, but even if they are, they showed up at the end of a campaign. It’s odd… and I don’t think they’re telling the full story.” 

“I quite agree.” Kenobi looked away from them, his eyes catching back onto the line of Cody’s visor. “Keep an eye on them.” 

A small pit formed in Cody’s stomach, a layer of concern and protection welling up from genetically modified instincts and experience. “Are you worried about them, sir?” 

A line creased over Kenobi’s brows as he looked away. “They held no ill intentions as far as I could sense, but something about it doesn’t feel right.” 

“What do you mean?” 

“The Darksaber has been passed through numerous families, but I have never seen the signet on that man’s pauldron before. I do believe they are from the future, but it’s harder to read him, even more so than other Mandalorians I’ve met.” 

Kenobi rarely talked about his past interactions with Mandalorians, but it didn’t take eyes to see that the Jedi General had spent time with the race of warriors. Cody thought that he would never know about that detail of his life until Kenobi had drunk himself to his knees after a mission with the Duchess Satine and had ranted about his year living on Mandalore as a padawan. 

Luckily for the usually distant and evasive man, who could usually hold his liquor, Cody had been his only company that night. 

Cody looked over to the Mandalorian, who had dubbed himself “Mando” and wore silver armor. A curious flicker rose in his mind as he watched the man, the way he seemed to blend into the ground while simultaneously catching the attention of everyone in the vicinity with the glints of his armor. But what really struck the clone commander as odd, was the way the Mandalorian’s helmet would tilt to the Jedi next to him, the way that his shoulders kept close as if they had been tied by a rope. 

Master Djarin was another puzzle that Cody couldn’t quite wrap his mind around. He held himself with the same grace of any Jedi that Cody had met, but his words had carried a slight twang to them, a slight cadence that felt different. And when he had rolled up his sleeve to pull the artificial skin from his hand, scars had slithered down across his arm. Scars that looked far too familiar. 

He glanced back at General Kenobi, the next question rolling off of his tongue. “What of the Jedi?” 

Something passed over Kenobi’s face, for only the barest of moments, before it was gone and the man replied, “The Jedi was… odd.” 

“Odd?” Cody repeated the word, somehow able to hide the amusement from his tone as he spoke. Aren’t all Jedi odd?

“Not in a bad way, but his shields were stronger than any other I've encountered.” Kenobi gestured toward his head. “Even Windu’s shields aren’t as strong.” 

The words rolled through Cody’s head at the mention of the other Jedi General. Another one of his batchmates worked alongside the man; his ori’vod , Ponds, had told their batch numerous things about the general, specifically how strong his shields were. According to Ponds, something called shatter-points had caused the general to create such strong shields in the first place. 

To think that the Jedi standing across the hangar from him had stronger shields than that of a high council member… 

Cody pushed the thought from his mind and turned toward Kenobi as the man continued to speak. 

“He’s bright too, blindly bright in the Force,” Kenobi added, “He feels like a honed blade, but he has this gentle buzz around him that I can’t describe.” 

“Do you not trust them?” Cody asked as the concerned feeling grew at the back of his chest. 

“I have faith that they won’t do anything to harm us.” Kenobi’s eyes narrowed, turning up to look at Cody’s visor under furrowed brows.  “I don’t trust them.” 

The tone of his voice sent a chill down Cody’s spine, and he found himself asking, “Yet or…?” 

“Let’s hope it’s yet, Cody.” Kenobi’s eyes snapped back to the pair, his voice lowering. “But something does bother me…” 

“What is that, sir?” 

“The Mandalorian didn’t want us to know his name, nor has he tried to remove his helmet,” Kenobi explained. “There’s an extreme group within Death Watch that follows a strict understanding of the Mandalorian tenants, so far he seems to be following their Way .” 

“You believe he might be a part of Death Watch.” Cody realized as his mind caught onto the word Way, feeling as if he had heard the term used similarly in passing before. 

The feeling of concern became larger and moved to his throat as his head turned to look across the hangar. The terrorist group left a foul taste in his mouth as he said its name, their actions, and motives returning to him as he spoke. With all the pain and blood that they left behind him, it was hard to look at the Mandalorian the same way if he was a part of that group. 

Yet, Death Watch was particularly known for not being fond of Jedi. 

“If he is, why does a Jedi have anything to do with him?” Cody asked. 

Kenobi nodded as he turned back to him. “That’s the question, isn’t it? Clearly, they know each other well.” 

“I don’t pretend to know what the future is like, sir, but doesn’t that worry you?” Cody leaned his helmet closer to the general, feeling the concern work its way into his jaw. 

“It does, but I must keep open-minded Cody,” Kenobi sighed and placed his hands behind his back once again, “Sometimes, things are not as they seem.” 

Isn’t that even more of a reason to not trust them? Cody thought, but before he could voice those words, his comm began to light up again. He sighed as the war effort dragged him away from the conversation, turning him back toward his vode. 

“Time to move out!” Cody called, his voice rising over the chatter of the hangar. “Back to the transports!” 

Movements of troopers poured in front of him, the chatter springing up once again after the order. He looked over the men, before turning to his General and nodding his head back toward the time-traveler’s group. “Shall we join them, sir?” 

“Let’s,” Kenobi replied, “I’m curious what their reaction to the Negotiator will be. I imagine that Star Destroyers have changed over the years, but how much?” 

Cody’s eyes caught the small smirk across the man’s lips, but he tore his eyes away and began to march toward the small group. The small lick of heat in his chest stifled as he stomped it out, brushing away the embers as best he could. Yet, he could still feel it in his chest as he swallowed it down and forced his eyes to scan ahead. 

The mantras of his training rushed back to him as he walked with his back to the General, the words repeating in his head and spiraling around his throat. 

Love will do you no good, One trainer had told him. 

Another had said, The Jedi don’t fall in love. 

Waxer and Boil stood at the front of the group, their arms animated as they retold some kind of story. Even from here, Cody could see the relaxation in their shoulders and the sway in their steps. Their voices carried over as they recounted the tale, chiming into each other and laughing. 

“Yeah, and then, Wooley got stuck in a sinkhole!” Waxer exclaimed, one of his hands gesturing toward the ground while his helmet tilted up toward the two time travelers. 

Boil laughed and added, “A sinkhole! About the size of a small house.” 

“Oh come on,” Wooley complained as he shoved Boil’s shoulder, “You would have gotten stuck with me if I hadn’t pushed you.” 

“That sounds like an interesting tale,” Kenobi’s voice broke into the conversation, “But I’m afraid that you’ll have to finish it when we return back to the Negotiator.” 

“Yes, sir!” Several voices chopped out, bodies jumping to attention immediately. 

It only took fifteen minutes to round up Waxer and Boil’s ragtag group and get them back to the Negotiator, a feat that normally would have Cody’s shoulders relaxing and his pounding head crawling to a stop. Instead, his commlink lit up and connected to his helmet, while one of the officers began to spiel about the latest intel and the importance of him and General Kenobi meeting the Admiral on the bridge.

He blocked out the conversations around himself as he raised a hand to steady his helmet, tipping his head to the side as if to listen better. The voice rattled on specifics and information, the words drilling into his mind. 

Then the words clipped off, seconds before the shuttle shuttered, jolting at the landing in the hangar bay. 

Work never stops, Cody thought to himself. 

He stepped off the LAAT with Kenobi at his side and leaned his head down, slipping his helmet off of his head. The cool air brushed across his face and settled into his hair, he could feel the bits of sweat start to cool against his skin as he straightened his neck and turned back to the group. 

Master Djarin was staring at him. 

And even though he couldn’t be sure, Cody thought that the Mandalorian standing beside him was staring too. 

But then the Jedi’s eyes tore away, darting across the gap between him and Kenobi. A small smile twitched at the edge of his lips before his shoulders relaxed. His hands settled in front of him, clasped together in a serene pose. 

“The General and I have a meeting to attend,” Cody said to the group. He kept his eyes focused on the Jedi but glanced at his men to keep their attention. 

“What shall we do, sir?” Crys asked, taking his helmet off. 

Cody gestured to the two time-travelers as he looked toward the quieter man. “Take these two to the guest bunks, two of them should have already been prepared. Get them situated.” 

“I have a feeling that we will call for them soon,” Kenobi added as his eyes drifted over to Master Djarin, “Once our meeting is over, I’d like to discuss the next steps we’re going to take.” 

“We’ll wait for when you’re ready then,” Master Djarin replied with a dip of his head. 

“Alright, men, you have your orders,” Cody said, “Carry on.” 

“Yes, sir!” The troopers snapped into a salute, two of them starting to smile as Cody began to turn away. 

He had a feeling that Waxer and Boil were not going to make it a simple trip to the bunks, but he didn’t have the time to address that. 

---

The meeting left a chill running up Cody’s spine, a spent feeling overcoming his shoulders that he bit back and turned away from. Admiral Block’s heels clicked against the metal floor as Cody slid his helmet back off, listening to the sound of the footsteps draw further and further away. 

“This complicates things,” Cody said as he turned toward his General. 

Kenobi sighed and nodded his head, his eyes attached to the holotable. “Indeed, it does. It’s best that we call in our two stragglers and inform them of this hiccup.”

“What do you plan on telling them, sir?” 

A flicker went over Kenobi’s face before he raised his head away from the table. His eyes caught onto Cody’s, blue clashing against brown for a moment before the man responded. 

“I want them to be with you during this,” Kenobi said with a lowered voice, “but if that isn’t possible, you should put your best men on it.” 

“I’ll keep them in the loop, sir,” Cody responded before lifting his commlink and replaying his orders into it. “Boil and Waxer will be here with them in a moment.” 

“Excellent.” 

Kenobi’s voice clipped as he leaned back over the holotable, his fingers pressing into the control panel. There was something in the way that he leaned that caught Cody’s attention; the way his weight shifted to one side of his body and his eyes crinkled, his mouth pulling taut at the sides. 

Something pained the Jedi, it was something that Cody could notice from a parsec away. Kenobi’s body had been built from years of practicing the Jedi arts and traveling across the galaxy; it rarely ever gave away the amount of pain the man was actually in.

When he had first begun working with Kenobi, his frustrations had bubbled over to near anger and action at the way the Jedi waited until the last possible minute to be seen for his injuries. Especially because Cody hadn’t been able to notice that the General he was responsible for, the one he was supposed to keep safe, was injured or dying. Of course, that meant he had learned quickly how to pick out moments of hidden grimaces or shifting weight from the Jedi, moments where the Force couldn’t hide his pain anymore. 

But now, Cody didn’t need to search for the signs of pain in the Jedi. He had become skilled enough to simply notice them. 

“I can feel you staring, Cody.” Kenobi looked up from the panel and turned to him. “What is it?” 

Well, there was no use in lying to the Jedi. 

“You’re injured, sir,” Cody replied, “You’re favoring your right side.” 

Kenobi smiled, a smile that scratched at the edges of his cheeks. “You never miss anything, Commander.” 

“You’ll need to have that checked out.” 

With a waving hand, Kenobi replied, “I will, but first we need to speak with…” 

Cody frowned as the General’s sentence slowly died out before he heard the sound of an opening door and understanding wafted over him. He turned on his heel as Master Djarin and Mando stepped into the room, both Waxer and Boil on either side of them. His two brothers were snarking back and forth to each other, their voices lowering and lowering to a whisper. Then the two halted, clicking their heels together and standing with straightened backs. 

“Sirs!” The two said, both saluting before falling into parade rest. 

Cody bit back a sigh, quickly gesturing for the time-travelers to approach the table. “There’s been a slight hiccup in the plan to meet with General Koon.” 

“What’s the hiccup?” Master Djarin asked, his eyes catching onto Cody’s form as he moved closer. 

“Well, Master Djarin, take a look,” Kenobi said as he gestured to the table. 

The Jedi stared for a moment, before jolting and laughing, “Oh, please, call me Luke! Everyone does, and it really does take me a moment to realize you’re talking to me if you use my last name.” 

“Just Luke?” Kenobi mused. “Alright, well, Luke, take a look.” 

Luke smiled, but his gaze turned to the man beside him instead. Another wordless conversation seemed to pass between them, lasting merely seconds, though it felt like eons to Cody. Then both Mando and Luke stepped forward, standing at the edge of the holotable as the map appeared and shuttered. 

“This is the planet of Arduj.” Cody gestured to the holotable as the planet came into focus. It was a tiny and flat planet, but with one long ridge of mountains that sprouted out of the surface like a thorn on a stem. “The people that inhabit this planet live on this mountain range.” 

“The 104th were delivering aid to the people when a Separatist invasion came from above four days ago. This separated the battalion down either side of the mountain range,” Kenobi added with a sweep of his hand. Red dots appeared on one side of the mountain, blinking in and out of existence. Cody’s eyes tracked them, before he was able to find the words to describe them. 

“As of right now, Commander Wolffe has been able to contact us from the South side. Information from him indicates that General Koon is on the North side, and we have been unable to contact him. Apparently, they lost contact on that side the moment the invasion took place,” Cody explained, “Our mission is to force the Separatist forces off of the planet, while also reconnecting with General Koon. We will do that by deploying the 212th to the Southern range, to aid Commander Wolffe in retaking the mountains. General Kenobi will dispatch alongside a squadron of troopers to locate General Koon.” 

Luke leaned closer to the holotable for a moment as if his eyes were catching onto something that no one else could quite see. When he stood back up, he was standing even closer to Mando than he had been before. Their shoulders brushed against each other as Luke turned to him, whispering something under his breath. 

Mando nodded before taking a step forward and looking toward the map. His helmet leaned forward as his shoulder pressed into Luke’s before he leaned back and nodded again.

They’re close , Cody realized as he watched them. The two men moved around and against each other as if they had been doing so for years. Brushing or pressing against each other was something chiseled into their daily lives. Small glances toward each other held entire conversations, even a single gesture could count toward the dialogue between them. 

He wondered why that had happened, why a Jedi and a Mandalorian had ended up so close to each other. How was it even possible when almost every Mandalorian now resents any Jedi they meet?

Cody wasn’t the only one that noticed the movement, as Kenobi cleared his throat. His eyes were attached to the two time travelers, a furrow to his brow before he spoke again. 

“Both of you are not a part of the GAR or the Jedi Order currently, you do not have to join this mission,” Kenobi said as he looked between the both of them, “but if you do decide to aid us, I believe it would be best if you aided Commander Cody in his deployment to Commander Wolffe’s position.” 

Cody caught Luke’s shifting foot out of the corner of his eye, his toes tapping at the ground as he pulled his eyes away from the holotable and looked up at the General. 

His voice was calm, but his head tilted and his lips hardly moved as he asked, “Wouldn’t it be easier if two Jedi were sent to locate General Koon?”

“It would, but I’d rather give you the best chance at getting home safely.” Kenobi eased with a small smile and a patting of his hand toward the floor. “Returning to your time means that you must be alive to do so. I’d rather that you stay in mostly friendly territory than traverse through enemy territory.” 

Luke’s eyes narrowed, hardly noticeable as he turned away and looked toward the silver Mandalorian. Mando’s helmet glinted as he looked down at the Jedi, before looking back at the holotable. 

“I agree with the General, sirs.” Cody gestured forward, drawing their attention back and clearing his throat. As their eyes caught onto him, he resisted the urge to smirk and scratch at the back of his neck. “Besides, I know the other troopers have been wondering what type of fighters the both of you are.” 

“That is if we join the fight or stay here on the ship.” Mando’s arms crossed over his chest. The cold tilt in his tone nearly caused Cody to squeeze his hands into fists, but he drew in a breath instead. 

Kenobi nodded, and replied with a small smile, “Correct, we won’t force you into fighting, but it is a choice that you have if you wish to take it.” 

A silence lapped between them at Kenobi’s words, but then Luke’s hands unclasped and his shoulders rolled back. The cloak around him seemed to sway as he turned to look at both Cody and Kenobi. 

“I can’t stand by if I’m able to lend a hand that can keep innocents from dying.” Luke’s voice was firm and steady. “I’ll join you, Commander Cody.” 

“As will I.” Mando’s shoulders shifted as he stood up, his helmet tilting as he spoke. “You have my word.”

Cody looked at the both of them, his brows furrowing as he looked between them. “Are you sure? You might be jeopardizing your chance to return safely.” 

Both of the men’s heads snapped to each other at the question. It was as if a silent conversation had sprung between them as Mando’s head tilted closer, and Luke’s lips pursed while his eyes narrowed. But then they turned back to Cody, their shoulders and heads rising. 

Mando’s following words froze Cody’s blood. 

“This is the Way.” 

---

“Wow, it’s bright.” Crys stepped onto the planet’s surface, his helmet swiveling on his shoulders. Cody bit back a remark as he stepped out beside him, glancing back at the two time-travelers as he did. 

The surface of Arduj stretched into the horizon and disappeared out of sight. The flat vegetation crunched underfoot, leaving prints and marks across the surface. Numerous trails appeared around them as his eyes turned toward the surface, and he turned his head to look toward the mountain range, the one part of the surface that broke the horizon by stretching up into the sky.

Several troops dotted the base of the mountain. Covers of machinery sparkled in the light, surrounded by makeshift trenches dug into the vegetation. Troopers in white and gray armor rushed from spot to spot, taking cover as fire rained down upon them and blanketed surfaces. Y-wings passed by above, bombarding the side of the mountain before disappearing behind it, followed closely by droid starfighters. 

Somewhere in the fray, he could hear Wolffe shouting. 

His heart hammered into his chest as he heard his brother’s voice, barking orders and snapping curses for all to hear. It had been months since he had last seen the gray-colored commander, but this wasn’t the place where he had wanted to see him either. A sense of urgency fell into his bones as he spotted the man, ducking behind one of the stationed AT-TEs. 

“Alright, men.” Cody connected to his commlink. “Spread out and stick to it, remember your orders.” 

His feet spun him back to the men following him as several affirmatives repeated over the comms. 

Cody’s eyes caught onto Luke as the man stepped off the transport, the vegetation crunching underfoot and his lips pulling back in a frown. Luke’s head angled toward the ground as he walked forward, his gloved hand coming out to sway through the air as his eyes fell closed. The pose itched at the back of his mind, something he had seen his General do multiple times when landing on a new planet. 

Sensing in the Force, whatever there was to sense , Kenobi had explained. 

Then Luke’s eyes opened and his head turned upward, just as a red ship spiraled by. It seemed to hover above them, impossibly slow for such a ship, before flying forward. The Jedi symbol appeared on the side as the ship swung toward the mountain, stirring the feeling in Cody’s chest further. Kenobi’s ship disappeared over the mountain, diving out of sight moments later. 

“Let’s move out, men,” Cody said.

Wooley moved to his side, latching onto the spot like a leech. His movements fell in line, matching strides and speed. Yet his walking slowed to a stop as he glanced backward, drawing Cody to his own stop. 

He looked back over his shoulder, feeling a hint of curiosity spring into his chest, quickly followed by suspicion. His eyes caught back onto Luke’s figure, which hadn’t moved an inch. His head was lowered, his eyes fixed on the vegetation beneath their feet. Mando stood only a few feet in front of him, looking back at him as his hand wandered toward his belt, toward the gun holstered against his hip. 

Death Watch. Cody’s head supplied him. What if…?

He glanced back toward Wolffe. 

“Are you coming?” Cry’s asked before anyone else could speak, and the Jedi jolted as if he had been punched. His eyes widened as he looked up. 

“Oh, sorry,” Luke said, “I was just…” 

Cody broke off Luke’s sentence, already starting to move again as he saw Wolffe begin to gesture wildly. “We have to go. Now.” 

The sounds of crunching plants followed him as he began to march forward. Sortments of troopers rushed past him, oranges and grays mixing together as battle stations slotted against each other. His eyes followed their movements as he walked, stepping around men and ducking past machinery. 

The AT-TE that his brother was running a command from stared up at the mountain, its cannon locked on the closest cliff face. Several gray troopers ran across the area, voices screaming out to each other or echoing order after order. 

But no voice was louder than Wolffe’s, as his arms chopped into place and his words bellowed. 

“Crys, Wooley, help the men defending the AT-TE.” Cody sliced his hand through the air, waving it at the both of them. 

The two troopers nodded and took off running without another word. 

Cody turned back to the scene in front of him. “Wolffe!” 

His brother’s gray helmet swiveled toward him before his body began to march. The tension in Wolffe’s shoulders became clearer as he stalked closer, his head swiveling as another trooper ran up to him. 

His voice snapped back at the poor shiny, sending him scrambling back into the fray. 

If Cody had been a shiny, or even a cadet, he would have kept as far away from Wolffe as possible. 

But he wasn’t, and he knew that his brother was more bark than bite. 

Though, it was true that his brother did bite. 

“Who are these two?” Wolffe’s helmet nodded over Cody’s shoulder, his voice mellowing out as he got close enough to them. 

“This is Jedi Luke Djarin,” Cody explained and gestured his hand back toward the two, “And this is Mando.” 

Wolffe tilted his helmet, a hint of suspicion coming over his tone as he asked, “What are they doing here with you?” 

“They need to meet with General Koon, but since that isn’t possible…” 

“Ah, you’re babysitting then?” Chuckles laced the edges of Wolffe’s voice as his arms crossed over his chest, his feet shifting to hold his weight. 

But it was the laugh that came from behind Cody that struck him. 

The mysterious Jedi had a smile across his face, his gloved hand partially hiding it as his black cloak clung loose around his shoulder. The smile slowly fell into a soft grin as the shaking of his shoulders faded away, his eyes glancing toward the Mandalorian on his right. 

Mando crossed his arms, his helmet shaking. 

“This is Commander Wolffe of the 104th.” Cody pointed with his thumb, resisting the urge to roll his eyes. 

Luke’s eyes drifted from him to Wolffe, his head tilting slightly as his eyes narrowed. It was a look that Cody had seen come across plenty of Jedi’s faces as if they were seeing something that no one else could see. 

As if the Force was a tangible object. For the Jedi, it certainly was. 

Wolffe shifted at Cody’s side, before taking a step forward and snapping. “What?” 

It happened faster than anyone could have expected it, but Mando stepped closer to Wolffe and pushed his hand against the grip of his blaster. The silver beskar gleamed in the sun dangerously as the Mandalorian helmet turned toward Wolffe, the visor staring toward him like lifeless eyes. 

But Luke’s hand stopped the man from stepping forward, his gloved hand resting on the Mandalorian’s bicep and armor. Then his hand lifted, and with it, the tension in Mando’s shoulder’s seeped away. 

Cody knew that wasn’t normal. 

“Are you siblings?” Luke managed to ask before anyone else could speak, his eyes darting between Cody and Wolffe. He rambled further when his question was met with silence. “I mean, I know you’re all clones, but you two are… close.” 

“Batchmates.” Cody looked at him. “We’re batchmates.” 

Luke blinked before another smile appeared on his face and he nodded. “Oh, yeah, that’s the word.” 

Wolffe’s helmet turned toward Cody, and he could imagine that his brother was raising an eyebrow at him. He shook his head a little in turn, shrugging his shoulders. 

Another gray trooper appeared beside Wolffe, his helmet and pauldrons dripping with the Wolfpack motif. It only took a moment, but Cody recognized the trooper as he began to speak. 

“Boost needs a location for the blaster cannon, sir,” Sinker said, “Last spot just got blown up.” 

“And the cannon is fine?” Wolffe grumbled as he turned away from them. 

Sinker shrugged. “That’s what he said."

Wolffe sighed and gestured, “Alright, set up right in front of this spot, in front of the AT-TE, and root it into the dirt.” 

“Wait, what about the caves?” Luke cut in. 

Wolffe’s head snapped toward the Jedi. “What caves?” 

“Missiles!” A trooper screamed before Luke could reply. “Take cover!”

Cody’s head snapped up, feeling his blood run cold as his body began to move into action. His instinct drove his legs to move, faster and faster as his eyes shot toward the sky. Five streams of red and orange hurtled through the air and screamed down toward them. 

His training told him that no amount of running or covering would help, that those missiles were going to fall right on top of them. Though his body moved, his eyes watched as they grew closer and closer. His heart clogged into his throat, his voice leaving him. 

Something pushed hard against his back, a shove that sent him flying through the air. He felt the ground rip away from his feet and the sky blowing past as his limbs tucked closer to him. He groaned as his head swiveled and a yelp escaped his throat as his shoulder landed first, his body rolling over the vegetation beneath him. 

Moments later, an explosion rippled over his body, heat curling at the gaps in his armor, and dirt littered around him. It showered over his visor as he rolled to his side, onto his stomach. He looked up, through the smoky mist to the place that he had been standing only moments before. 

A large crater dug into the planet’s surface as if someone had dug a knife across the surface of an arm. Jagged and charred bits of vegetation gripped at the sides, wilting inward. The AT-TE that had once stood there was gone as if it had never existed in the first place. 

“Wolffe?” Cody pushed himself up, scrambling to the side of the crater and looking down. 

The entire surface of the planet had fallen into the crater, the AT-TE sticking with its legs in the air as half of it was buried in the dirt below. Spots of white armored bodies clung to the sides, their limbs lifeless or missing. 

His breath caught in his throat as he spotted Luke’s dark cloak clinging to burning vegetation only a few arm lengths below him, partially wrapped around a gray trooper. He narrowed his eyes closely at the sight, before feeling his stomach drop as Sinker’s helmet rolled backward to look up at him. 

Luke’s arm circled around the taller clone, as they both clung to the vegetation, but his head was swiveling as he looked back toward the crater. His voice bounced off the fresh cliffs, ringing past Cody’s ears. 

“Mando!” 

Chapter Text

The night vision in his helmet flickered on as Din rolled to his side, part of his stomach churning and his ears ringing as he struggled to his knees. Pain flared across his right side, echoing down his shoulder and spine as he lurched forward and breathed deeply. His hands flexed as his mind ran over what injuries he possibly could have, searching for breaks and cuts, but he could only feel the dull pain of growing bruises and aching joints. 

Air filtered through his helmet as he sat back, expanding through his lungs and throat with each breath he took. His eyes searched through the visor, catching not only the materials around him but the bodies as well. 

Troopers struggled in their own places, their groans finally breaking through to him. Four of them stood out to him, but he could make out two others behind him based on the sounds of their movement and voices. He turned his head to the closest one, his memory coming back to him as he saw the helmet with growling teeth underneath the narrowed visor and a red arrow across the forehead. 

“Commander,” Din croaked, “Are you alright?” 

Wolffe’s helmet turned toward him. “Been worse.” 

Familiarity jarred him every time one of the clones spoke. He was able to pick out subtle differences over time, he knew that Boba Fett’s voice was different. The daimyo's voice had grown raspy, quiet but deep whenever he spoke. There was a power that he held when he spoke as if commanding all attention to him with the dangerous lilt that accompanied his tone. 

While all clones had the same voice, their tones and words and tilts were different from each other. 

Boil and Waxer had spoken with a tone of mischievous and guilelessness that spoke volumes. Wolffe certainly had these tones at times, but his lilt was deeper, and there was the faint flicker of something else that Din hadn’t been able to figure out yet. 

“Your Jedi said something about caves.” Wolffe put a hand on the ground as he pushed himself up, standing to his full height. 

Din nodded as his head swirled toward his husband, his gut screaming at the thought of what might have happened to him. He forced his thoughts away, turning to the situation at hand. “I heard, he must have sensed them when he stepped onto this planet.” 

“Force osik ,” Wolffe cursed. 

Another groan came from the trooper beside Wolffe, the man’s body trembling as he struggled to sit up. The gray markers on his armor stood out, and his helmet was practically dripping in color, but the shades over his pauldrons and cuirass were hidden by a starkly dark liquid that ran through the gaps in his armor and splayed on the floor beneath him. 

Though he couldn’t pick up the color in night vision, Din knew what it was. 

“You’re bleeding,” he told the trooper. 

The man grunted. “Something cut me.” 

“Sit down,” Wolffe said and pressed a hand onto the trooper’s helmet, “You need basic aid, di’kut .” 

“But Wolffe,” the man began to say.

Wolffe snapped back at him, “But nothing, Comet. Sit down.” 

The trooper grumbled before sliding back to the floor, his armor scuffing against the dirt. While Wolffe kneeled at his side, Din looked back around the cave. 

There was debris littering one side, metal plates and wires twisted and scuffed, torn and sharp. His eyes trailed across the debris, to a wall of freshly turned dirt and stones that had caved them in. The sight of the wall punched his ribs as he stared toward it. A cracked helmet peaked out from under a large stone, an arm sticking from beneath it. The arm dangled from the stones, bicep bent at a crooked angle as the armor poked upward from the protruding bone. Blood slipped down the limb and dripped down the fingers, pooling on the floor. 

Din turned away from the sight, back to the men standing up and huddling closer together. He could see the flash of lights as their night vision turned on, fingers fiddling with the sides of their helmets. One of the men cursed under his breath as he tore his helmet off and ran two fingers along the inside ridge. 

A busted helmet , The Armorer had told him once, will kill you. 

The woman had meant it literally, but also as a warning that his helmet could be removed easily and his face shown to the people around him. He would be dead to the Mandalorians as a result, despite the blood pumping in his veins and the warmth that filled his flesh. 

The Armorer never let anyone in the Tribe have a helmet that was short of perfect. 

“Does anyone have a light?” The clone sighed as he pulled his helmet back on. The paint across his helmet flared recognition across Din’s mind and he watched as Crys continued to speak. “My night vision is busted.” 

“Is your light busted too?” Another trooper jeered but handed him a small rectangular object. 

Crys put the light on the side of his helmet, clicking it into place. The light flickered on, dim and waning. “I gave it away to some guy in the 501st. He said he’d give it back but the last I heard, he got put on latrine duty for some funny business he started.” 

“Well, that was your first mistake, trusting anyone in the 501st with your stuff,” The other trooper snorted, “Crazy bastards.” 

It wasn’t the first time that Din began to wonder about the clones. When he had first caught glimpses of Mando’a spoken between them, he had spent a long time wondering why they knew the language. When he looked at their armor, he wondered why they were so similar to the Mandalorian armor. Why were they so Mandalorian, but not?  

But then he remembered Boba Fett’s few words about his father. 

His father had been a Mandalorian. 

Boba Fett was a clone of that man, in the way that all of these men were as well. 

What little culture they had been given, it was clear that they had clung to it and kept it with them through their groups. From the language that they spoke, to even the way that they held themselves as they walked and fought. Even more so, the colors on their armor matched their battalions, the grays of the 104th and the oranges of the 212th. Din wondered if their colors matched the Mandalorian understanding of it, of loss and lust for life. 

But it was clear that the clones had their own culture too, something he could see in the way they interacted with each other and the differences in the paints of their armor. 

It was something his husband had commented on to him, in the quietness that had bloomed between them on the Negotiator. Luke’s gaze had drifted across the clones in the mess hall, the curious glint in his eyes rising to the surface as his lips twitched at the sides. He knew that his husband had been thinking of his days spent in the rebellion, eating year-old rations and crowding around tables, just like the way the men before them had been doing. 

Luke, Din’s stomach rolled and he closed his eyes. His head turned to the side, his hand flickering at the empty space beside him. His shoulders screwed tight as a tension grew at the base of his skull. 

His husband’s name bounded around his mind, joining in the constant wave of his son’s babbles and cries. 

“Mando?” The voice broke into his thoughts. “Are you alright?” 

He turned to the voice, meeting Crys’ tilted visor with his own. “I’m not injured.” 

Crys hummed but looked away. His light fell upon Wolffe’s figure, who had stood back up and was looking over all of them now. The narrowed visors scanned over the array of men standing before him before he took a step toward the nearest trooper and placed a hand on his pauldron. 

“Tenie.” Wolffe’s voice had lowered, the urgency overflowing with something else as he spoke.  “Are you alright, vod’ika ?” 

Din got a good look at Tenie as he replied, noticing the full white armor that he wore and the small scratches that littered his right side. “Just scratches on plastoid, ori’vod .”

“Good.” Wolffe’s head turned, looking over them all before resting upon Crys. “And you, kih’vod ?” 

Crys light flickered briefly as he looked up, before he replied, “My knee is bruised, not as much as my ego though.” 

The Mando’a words slid through Din’s ears and settled in his soul as he listened to the men. He felt himself catch onto the way the clones used the words, the differences between their way of speaking and the way of speaking he had grown up with. Rarely had he ever called another person, ori’vod , even if they were older or more important, and the same could be said about vod’ika and kih’vod. It was always vod, unless it had to be specified and unless it was clan. 

But the men here did it with ease, and clearly it meant something to them, as they looked up at the words and let them fall without faltering. Their voices clung to the sounds and meaning, emotions thick beneath them. 

“Everyone’s ready then.” Wolffe’s gesture broke him from his thoughts, the man snapping his arm to the side and his body turning. “Let’s get out of this kriffing cave.” 

“Oya!” The voices around him rose, shaking Din to his core, and his breath nearly stilled. 

He found himself glancing around as the man began to follow after their Commander, how easily they stepped into line. His own feet followed after, finding his shoulder falling next to Crys as they began to shift into gear. 

“Soren, take the rear,” Wolffe called over his shoulder, before stepping further into the winding cave. 

“Yes, sir!” A trooper stopped walking, stepping to the side and nodding as the remaining troopers passed him. Din glanced at the man’s graying armor, before turning back to focus on the cave ahead of them. 

As the dirt turned and twisted, the steady sound of feet and clinking armor filled Din’s ears. Cold chills rose the further that they went, wrapping around his armor as he followed Crys around corners and bends. His flight suit rose to the challenge, its heated thermals resting against his skin as he walked on.

Slowly his mind began to wander away from the dingy walls and back to his home. The sunny skies of Yavin against the growing temple began to blend into the scenery around it. The rush of the wind in his ears whenever he landed after a ten-day worth of work back on Mandalore. 

A part of him had always wanted his son and husband to live on Mandalore with him, but another part was eternally grateful for the quiet abode only a few star systems away. He knew that they were safe there, that they were happy as well. It was paradise tucked away from the rest of the world, untouched by the fighting that Mandalore endured to revive itself. 

Luke had offered to help, but Din had declined it.

It had been a Mandalorian matter, and many Mandalorians would not have wanted a Jedi involved. 

When his people were ready, they would know how powerful a Jedi ally could be. 

That being said, many Mandalorians didn’t know that there was an Alor’riddur, or that said title was held by the man who had brought the Empire to its knees. He wondered what they would think once they knew, how would the majority of his people react to Luke Skywalker as his husband?

Hopefully, they’d come to accept it in the same way Bo-Katan Kryze had.

Din loved Luke Skywalker more than life sometimes. His dirty blond hair caught the light to cast rays of golden light as if a living beacon to guide Din back home. The way that his smile and eyes lit up, or the way he tried to hide the farmer’s boy personality under the ray of calm he exuded. But there were moments where it shined through, like when he made breakfast in the mornings at a time no one but a farmer would be awake for, or when he spotted a speeder with modifications beyond what was safe. 

But mostly it was the way that Luke interacted with Grogu that broke apart the Jedi’s calm facade, letting an eye into the love and care that he had for the world, the smiles and happiness that he held onto. From the way that he would tease his son to the way that he would run through the wilderness with him, showing him the Force while demonstrating a terrifying amount of control over his hurtling body. 

Grogu had always been one for a little danger, for that adrenaline rush that came with flying through space or skipping down the side of a mountain. His coos and cheers reached upward into the sky as his hands clawed at the air. His son knew that he was safe to experience such danger whenever his fathers were nearby, ready to scoop him up when it became too real or to stop the danger head-on when it became a real threat. 

Din’s thoughts slowly began to falter away as he noticed how his heart had begun to ache. His husband’s name floated around his head, drawing at scenarios that left his mouth dry and his stomach cold. Each one found a way to twist a blade deeper and deeper into him, but he took a breath and forced them away, his mind falling back into focus as he realized hours had passed.

He glanced around again, letting his eyes drift across each of the troopers. 

A visor glared toward him, one of the troopers ahead of him glancing over their shoulder, before looking back at the front. He followed right behind Wolffe, standing at Comet’s shoulder. 

“What’s a Mandalorian doing with us?” The trooper asked, his voice sounding on edge as he walked forward. 

Comet leaned closer to the trooper, letting part of his weight be supported by the man. “The 212th brought him along. Don’t know why.” 

“Crys? Do you know?” Tenie’s helmet glanced back, before looking forward again. 

Crys glanced at Din, his helmet dipping before turning away. The flashlight on his helmet flickered again as he said, “I think that’s for Mando to tell you if he wants, because honestly… it's still hard to wrap my mind around.” 

Footsteps echoed around the cave walls as Crys' words settled in, hanging like a blanket around them. Din’s shoulder screwed tight as his thoughts began to parade around his head, tilting forward toward the man that was leading them through the winding tunnels. 

Wolffe was General Koon’s commander, he’d find out anyway. 

Eventually, he explained, “I need help finding my way home.” 

“Mandalore isn’t exactly hidden, but it is pretty far, I guess,” the trooper behind him said, the one that Wolffe had called Soren. 

The same trooper that had glared before spoke again, asking, “And exactly why do you need clones to help you with that?” 

Comet glanced at the disgruntled clone, almost as if he was going to add something, before deciding not to. Instead, Din watched as the man looked back at him, the visor of his helmet moving up and down before turning away. 

He wasn’t sure if he could explain if these men would believe him either way.

“My home isn’t Mandalore as it is now.” Din felt his skin crawl as he said it out loud as if admitting to himself that this was real and not a dream. “It’s elsewhere, in another time.” 

“Time travel?” Wolffe’s helmet swiveled back toward him, his feet nearly stumbling to a stop. 

Crys’s arm swung around. “See what I mean? Still can’t wrap my head around it.” 

All of the men had stopped walking, their helmets turned back toward Din as a ringing silence began to wrap around them all. He felt the air on his arms rise as their gazes burnt through the beskar that he wore, searing into his armor and soul. 

And then, Wolffe grunted and turned away.

“No wonder you want to talk to General Koon,” He said as his form began to venture into the darkness once again.

A moment passed by, before the men around him began to follow once more. 

“I don’t believe it.” The disgruntled clone glanced back and Din imagined that his visor had narrowed, like the way eyes narrowed when trying to detect a lie. 

He felt himself shrug in response, an inkling in his brain reminded of the way that Koska Reeves sometimes pokes at him with her own disgruntled and distrusting nature. 

He replied, “It doesn’t matter that you don’t believe it. General Kenobi does.” 

The trooper grunted in return but didn’t say anything as his helmet tilted downward. A moment passed over them, surrounding them in the cave as if whispers were being spoken. Hair on the back of Din’s neck stood up, shivers racing down his spine. 

Until Tenie asked, his voice small and tentative, “So, what’s the future like?” 

“He won’t say.” Crys swung his hand, nearly knocking into Din’s arm as he did. “He and his Jedi decided they don’t want to change anything until they figure out if there’s a reason why they’re here.” 

“What’s so important that you don’t want to change anything?” The disgruntled trooper’s shoulder rose with each word. “Surely there’s something you’d actually want to change right? Maybe like the outcome of this war?” 

“Fangite…” Two voices rose above the rest: Soren’s from behind Din’s shoulder and Wolffe’s, whose helmet glanced backward. Fang grunted in reply, his helmet dropping again as his shoulders twitched in place. 

The answer to that question was easy though, and Din felt himself saying it before he could think better of it. 

“My son.” Din could imagine Grogu’s eyes staring up at him, his mouth opening and closing as if he wanted to say something but couldn’t. “He is a Foundling.” 

The steady footsteps echoed across the daunting walls, the clacks of armor drilling into Din’s skull. The troopers ahead of him had glanced at each other as if to check that their own surprise was worn by their brothers as well. He caught Crys’ visor turning to him out of the corner of his eyes, the tip in the man’s head.

Crys asked, “What’s your son like?” 

“He eats frogs,” Din explained, “He hunts them after lessons. He has done a number on the ecosystem.” 

“Frogs?” Tenie’s helmet snapped toward him, the tone of his voice sounding horrified.

Wolffe laughed at the front, his shoulders rising with each one. “Sounds like he’ll be quite the warrior then.” 

Din thought about how small his son was, but how capable he had proven to be. From the very day that he had met Grogu, he had known he was special. How his little ears flicked and leaned, how his eyes stared into the depths of your soul, and how his smile accompanied squeals as he made his way through the world. 

Even in the darkness of the caves, with clone troopers climbing further and further downward, Grogu would have been able to keep up. Even if that was because of his hovering pram. 

“So, if you can answer this…” Comet followed after Wolffe, using the man’s shoulder to balance as he stepped down into a lower part. “How did you end up with a Jedi?” 

Din thought for a moment, wondering if or even how he could explain the events that had led to him and Luke meeting. “He saved my son and I, circumstances have caused us to help one another since.” 

“Vague, but I can see why,” Soren said. “What’s your Jedi like? General Koon is….” 

“A buir. ” Tenie finished the sentence, his voice wrapped in warmth. 

Din blinked, before asking, “ Buir? ”

Soren laughed, “Well, we do call him that from time to time…” 

“He acts like one,” Tenie explained with a waving hand. 

Wolffe’s helmet nodded as he led them through a narrower path, and for a moment, Din thought of him as an exhausted older brother corralling his younger siblings. “Got to agree with the shiny on this one.” 

Comet laughed, and added, “The amount of times that he’s joined in with Vod Piles just proves that he cares, that’s he's such a buir. ” 

“He hugged me when I joined the 104th,” Tenie added, “and I’ve seen him make Fang cry, just by patting his shoulder.” 

“You have not, Attention!” Fangite snapped back at him, but his comment was washed away in the roaring laughter that followed Tenie’s comment. 

“Anyways, Mando here is dodging Soren’s question.” Comet waved a hand, his visor turning back to stare at Din. “What’s your Jedi like?” 

Din didn’t have words to describe his husband that wouldn’t immediately give away their relationship, but he thought about the soft smile that had always shown on Luke’s face. From the first time that they had met to the past few days, the same smile always followed the Jedi.

Even after Luke had asked to be called by his given name, rather than as Master Djarin, Din had been able to catch the soft smile on his face. He knew that his husband felt warm hearing those words, that his eyes shined when anyone called him that, but even then Luke had noticed the shifting of Din’s feet whenever the name was said. 

Djarin. 

It was hard to hear his name said out loud, even in the context of his husband. The name still felt too sacred, too close to heart, for just anyone to use.

And somehow, his husband had understood that without him needing to say a word. 

He didn’t even know if his husband was alive.

“Luke Djarin is unlike anyone I have ever met,” Din said as he ignored the pain in his chest, “Somehow he is kind in a universe that isn’t.” 

Soren chuckled, following after him as they started to climb upward again in the winding cave. “Ah, lots of Jedi seem to be like that.” 

Comet nodded ahead of them. “Anything more specific?”

When Din couldn’t find the words to answer, Crys said, “He wears a lot of black, like General Skywalker.” 

The words took the breath out of Din’s lungs, the air seeping away from him. He forced his legs to move forward, forced his body to not flinch away or react, to keep his head steady and his shoulders relaxed. Everything in him shook. 

Like General Skywalker. 

Luke had once told him, I wear black to honor my father. 

“Why does he wear black?” Fang’s voice drew him back out of his thoughts, the confusion in the man’s tone sweeping over him. 

Din shook his head. “That is for him to answer.” 

“So you don’t know,” Fang replied with a small edge in his voice as he glanced back. 

“I do know, but I won’t betray that confidence,” Din bit back.

Fang snorted, “So you’re awfully close to the Jedi then?” 

Wolffe glanced back at the trooper and stared through him with his visor, before he said, “Fangite.” 

The trooper fell silent and looked away from Wolffe, while Comet began to chuckle, “Well, if you’re close to Master Djarin, you’re not the only one to cozy up to a Jedi.”

“Comet!” Crys scolded. “We aren’t supposed to talk about that.” 

“It’s not exactly a secret that Cody and Kenobi…” Comet let out a yelp as Crys stepped forward to shove him.

“I noticed,” Din said. 

Comet laughed, the snickers of other troopers joining him. 

---

Hours passed by again, to the point that Din had lost count. 

The cave winded and winded, spreading out with limbs like trees and roots that dug far into the planet’s core. His mind whirled as they navigated the rocky surface, his eyes catching onto the fungi that climbed up the walls or scattered around their feet. In the back of his mind, he could hear one of the elder Mandalorians rambling on about differing plant species, especially about fungi that grew in dark and cold places, feeding on the dampness in the air that carried upward from hidden waters. 

He had always wondered if that Mandalorian was speaking about Mandalore and if they had been able to see the Living Waters before the Tribe had left the planet. He wasn’t able to confirm those questions and theories until he himself arrived on the planet. 

The tunnels wrapped around him in a darker and more confining way than the ones on Mandalore had. Something about them scraped at the back of his mind as he walked on, setting his teeth on edge and his shoulder taut.

His instincts shot upward as a sound echoed over him. 

Ahead of him, Wolffe held up his hand and stopped. 

The sound echoed around them again, before screeches ran toward them with the sound of flapping wings. 

“Down!” Wolffe dropped like a rock, his arms wrapping around his head. 

The creatures appeared in number, scratching past Din’s ducking head with hissing and snarls as their wings flew them forward. The blaster-bolt creatures disappeared into the darkness behind them. 

A loud bang roared from in front of them, followed by cracking and rumbling and stones crashing against stones. 

“ Osik ! It’s caving in!” Soren snapped from behind him. 

Wolffe turned, arm chopping forward. “Run!” 

The roaring overtook Din’s thoughts as his feet jolted, his legs and torso twisting his body before he could register the danger in front of him. His instincts, honed with experience, catapulted him down the tunnel. His breaths soaked in as the men around him pushed faster, pushed harder away from the rushing danger, and he was suddenly reminded of how eerily similar they all were to Boba Fett. 

But these men would be like Boba Fett in his prime, before scars from the Sarlacc pit hindered some of his movement before he had to relearn how to move and fight. These men were able to fight like demons and take on challenges beyond normal capabilities, they were able to survive. It was no wonder they were already pushing past Din’s fastest speed, despite the hours that had gone by and the aching of activity that must be running through their bodies. 

Wolffe flew to the front of the group as if his feet barely touched the ground. He slid around turns and ducked into narrow ways, pulling his men after them and leading them deeper and deeper, faster and faster. 

Until the tunnels opened up to a large cavern, its ceiling reaching out of sight and plants growing up the sides like weeds and roots. The flying creatures squawked from above. They darted in circles and clashed against each other with flashes of talons and fangs. Red eyes skipped around, glaring toward each other, before dipping down to the newcomers of the cave. 

One of the flying vermin shrieked before swooping downward, its talons springing out as it clawed at the air.

“ Osik, go back!” Wolffe turned back to them, his blaster appearing in his hand as he aimed upward at the creatures. 

Comet shouted back to him. “We can’t, it’s caved in!” 

“Those things are attacking!” Fang pulled his own blaster out. 

“Take cover!” Wolffe snapped.

Blasters began to fire as the clones moved, darting into ducked formation in the same way that Din had been taught. His own knees hit the ground, falling into a position beside Wolffe. 

The commander backed toward him, firing with his single blaster as the creatures bore down on him. Two passed through the blaster fire and landed upon his shoulders, their talons cracking through the plastoid armor. 

Wings slapped down on Wolffe’s head as the creatures tore him from the ground. The man’s helmet flew off of his head and crashed to the floor below. One of the creatures dragged the blaster from his hand, shaking it in its grip and smashing it between their teeth.

“Wolffe!” Tenie’s scream faded into the hollers and bellows of the vermin. 

Wolffe twisted in their grips with a strength that Din didn’t know a person could have. One of his hands grabbed onto a wing and tore into the flimsy flesh that let it fly, all while his face snarled and his body swung to the side. The clone's teeth bit into the leg of the other bird-reptile creature. 

A resounding crack filled the air as both creatures yowled in pain, their talons unsinking from the commander’s shoulders and dropping him like a box of spice. 

Din only had a minute to marvel at the way Wolffe had torn the wing of one creature while biting hard enough to break the leg of another, when the man slammed into the ground in front of him.

A third creature dove toward Wolffe as the man began to back up, but a ring of shots sent it flying back. 

Din jolted forward, grabbing the man by the armor and pulling him closer to the wall, in a small area that he had taken cover in. “I got you.”

“ Haar’chak! ” The commander spat. 

“Steady.” Din opened one of the pockets on his belt. “I can only take care of the shallow cuts.” 

“Don’t got bacta on you, Mando?” Wolffe grunted as he turned toward him. 

A cybernetic eye flashed toward him, nearly freezing Din in place as he leaned forward with his field-cauterizer. The tool zapped against Wolffe’s skin, drawing curses from the man’s mouth and a glare heavier than the weight of the Darksaber. 

“ Shabuir! ” Wolffe snapped at Din. 

Somehow, that kind of anger was comforting.

But that thought swept away as dirt fell over Din’s shoulders and clawed through the gaps in his armor, drawing his head to snap upward. The creature spiraled high above them and dodged the fire that came from below. Blaster bolts struck the ceiling, dislodging dirt and stones. A crack began to form across the ceiling. 

“Stop shooting, you’ll take the ceiling out!” Din shouted, waving an arm at the trooper around him. 

Soren’s blaster dipped down, his helmet trained on the monsters above. “This is not how I imagined I’d die!” 

“Look for a way out!” Wolffe snapped. “Before those things decide we’re a good dinner!” 

“We’re trapped, Commander!” Tenie’s helmet turned toward them. “I checked already, the only entrance was the way we came in.” 

Fang snarled, his blaster still raised as he kneeled. “We’re trapped with those big ugly flying things!” 

“I have an idea.” Din pressed the field-cauterizer into Wolffe’s hand.

Wolffe grabbed at the air next to his arm, grunting. “Wait, what are you doing?” 

The swarm of creatures spiraled around the cave and flashed their talons, digging into the sides of stones and against each other’s hard flesh. The spray of blood fell from the air as Din ducked forward, stepping into the middle of the cave and kneeling on the floor. He looked upwards at the creatures. 

Every fiber of being lit up and his soul began to sing. His instincts were woven into his skin, into his muscles, into his bones, and they clashed to the surface like the armor that covered his body. Din raised one arm toward the flock, his eyes trained on his target as his years of practice, training, and experience took over his movements. 

“Stay down!” Mand’alor the Shepherd shouted, not looking back to see if the troopers had listened. 

The whistling birds upon his vambrace ignited and shot into the air. The twelve darts whistled and bobbed before finding a home in their targets, combusting deep into the skin of the creatures. Their dying cries fizzled as their bodies dropped from the air. Flesh slapped against the stone and dirt floor, spraying blood and guts across Din’s shoes as he shifted to his other knee. 

One of the living creatures charged down toward him, it screamed and hollered a call to its brethren. The rest of the living joined the one, and as the red-eyed vermin spiraled toward him, Din lifted his other arm and glared. His eyes tracked their movements behind his visors, his legs staying strong as he kneeled beneath himself and his shoulders squared up.

Fangs snapped at his hand the same moment fire erupted from his vambrace and licked upward. Searing flesh cracked through Din’s helmet as wailing creatures fell away around him. The flames screamed around them and clung to their wings, tearing the flesh back from their hard scales and sharp bones. 

More thuds joined the dirt around him as he stood back up. Burning corpses twitched at his feet, mixing with the blood and guts that had fallen before them. 

“That is disgusting,” Wolffe grunted.

Din looked back toward him, feeling guts slide off of his shoulder and onto the ground. “I’ve had worse.” 

“I don’t even want to know.” Soren stood up, pulling Fang with him as he did. 

“How are we going to get out of here?” Tenie called over to them. 

“Are you sure that was the only way out?” Comet stood next to the white-armored man, wrapping an arm around his shoulder. 

Tenie sighed and shook his head, his hand gesturing vaguely. “There’s a small alcove over there I spotted, but my HUD indicates that it’s also caved in.” 

“ Osik, ” Comet muttered. 

Din turned away from the group as they began to speak amongst themselves, beginning to argue with each other. 

Luke flickered across his thoughts as he began to walk away and his fingers twitched against the edge of his armor. He took a deep breath and let it flow down his chest, combatting the whirling thoughts in his head. Tons of rock and dirt covering his husband, as his arms strained to keep it above him. His arm bent and broken, blood pooling around him as he wheezed. His lifeless eyes staring into the dark. Din’s stomach lurched and he nearly gasped, trying to battle the thoughts in his head. 

His visor picked up the alcove on the other side of the cavern. It was the same height as him roughly, with a width only slightly wider than his own. He slid his hands around the edges as his HUD picked up the debris and scattered stones, his eyes narrowing as he picked up one of the rocks. He glanced at the placement again, then at the rock in his hand, before stepping forward. 

When he met his husband, they had come up with a long list of deals together. 

I’ll train Grogu, as long as you stay in contact with him. 

I’ll give you my emergency commlink, as long as you only use it if you're in danger. 

I’ll cook breakfasts, if you cook dinners. 

I’ll bring supplies back to Yavin, if you can keep the Republic out of Mandalorian business. 

I’ll teach you how to use the Darksaber, if you come with me to find Jedi relics and artifacts. 

It was the last deal that was driving his instincts up the wall at the sight of the alcove, his experience of too many adventures screaming at him that something was off. 

“This wasn’t caved in,” Din raised his voice and reached forward and pulled another large stone away from the alcove, “It was sealed off.” 

“What?” Soren appeared next to him. “Are you sure?” 

“Positive.” Din pulled at the rocks, peeling them away from the alcove and tossing them behind him. He felt his heart begin to beat in his stomach, his shoulders tensing. 

More hands joined him as Soren pressed in on his right and Fang appeared on his left, reaching over and dragging at the stones. The stones tumbled away and fell into piles behind them. Light and movement began to appear on the other side. It flooded into the cavern as Din heard a voice from the other side. 

“Hello?”

Din felt himself halt, glancing over his shoulder as another trooper loomed over him. 

“Mental!” Comet shouted. “It’s us! We’re stuck!” 

“Comet?” Shock rang through the clone’s voice. 

Comet yanked Din back and shoved himself forward. “Yes, vod’ika! ”

“ Osik, ” Mental replied before his voice became more muffled, “General Koon! Over here!”

Chapter Text

The dirt sank into his fingernails as he clawed his way back up, embedding deep beneath as the sun glanced off the trooper above him. Commander Cody’s hand sank into his shoulder, dragging Luke up with one grip. Steadiness fell over him as he felt the vegetation grow stable beneath his knees. The level ground appeared beneath him and he felt the phantom roots of his life driving into the dirt below as he stood up. 

“Can you sense anyone?” Cody asked, his visor turning toward the sunken portion of land. 

Luke nodded his head as flickering lights flooded his senses and motions underground danced across his aura, the necklace resting on his heart grew heavier. “I can feel Mando now, he’s with a few other troopers.” 

“Wolffe?” Cody’s visor snapped to him. 

“Your batchmate is with him.”

The trooper beside Cody, the one that Luke had managed to catch when they fell, turned toward them. Scuff marks crossed his helmet and a ring of blue washed around, bleeding further into drips of gray and pounding hearts. 

“You can sense Wolffe?” The trooper asked, something in his voice wavering. “He’s alright?” 

Tendrils of light appeared across the sides of the man’s armor and ebbed their way into the sky. Luke felt as if he had been sunken into the mud of Dagobah, with only the vines and roots of the trees around him to cling onto and drag him back to the surface. He took a deep breath, feeling his senses press against the tendrils, the connection of them striking into his chest.

All things are connected.  

A few of the connections swayed around the man. They fell toward the ground and disappeared under the rocks, some dripping red and some shivering in life. The surface of the stones, burning vegetation, and soot glared back at Luke as he looked down at them. It hid the other ends of the connections like a wall, but some things still drifted out. Things that he could grasp onto.

“Your commander isn’t injured,” Luke said, “But I can feel pain, I think someone is injured…” 

“You can sense that?” Cody asked, his voice sounding surprised. 

Luke nodded. “Just barely, the surface of this planet is covered in life and it is a good veil for hiding what’s beneath.”
“Can we rescue them?” The clone beside Cody asked, his helmet turning back to Luke. 

The question rolled through his stomach and pounded against his heart. His senses flourished forward as he let himself close his eyes and submerge into the Force. 

The past felt significantly different than the future did. The contrast slapped Luke and sent his body struggling for air the first time he had reached out. It grew more barely each time he reached out, letting himself plunge deeper and deeper with each try. The connection at his fingertips, strained at first, slowly shifted into place and grew stronger and stronger. 

I’m one with the Force and the Force is with me.

The world flooded back into picture as he opened his eyes, turning to the two troopers beside him. 

“I don’t think we can rescue them,” Luke admitted. 

Cody’s helmet locked onto him, moving slightly closer as his shoulder tensed. “Why not?” 

“I can sense the uneasiness around where they are.” Luke raised his hand and shook it as if showing how unstable the dirt was. “If we try to dig them out, I’m afraid we will just cause a larger cave-in and potentially kill them.” 

“That’s not good,” Cody said as the sunny edges of him began to waver and the taste of salty worry exploded across Luke’s tongue. 

“But we can’t just leave them down there!” The other trooper argued, stepping forward. 

Luke nodded and raised a hand. “I can sense them moving. They have to find their own way out for now.” 

“Can you sense any entrances?” Cody asked. 

“No, but my guess is that we’ll find some on the mountainside.”

Cody sighed,  “If we’re able to take the mountain back, we stand a better chance at finding them.”

“How are we going to do that?” The clone turned to Luke, his visor catching the light.  “Do you have any ideas, General?” 

The words created a drop in his stomach, but before he could explain, Cody shook his head and spoke. “He’s not a general, Sinker.” 

Surprise fireworked across the trooper in the Force. “Isn’t he a little old for a padawan?” 

“It’s a long story, Sinker,” Luke said and clung to the trooper’s name, “When I fought, the highest rank I had was Commander, but I didn’t fight on the ground very much. I’m not sure how much help I’ll be.” 

“Jedi do try to keep their padawans out of the fray when they can.” Cody’s helmet turned away, his visor examining the areas around them. “I have more than enough experience on the ground to make up for it.”

“This is your battle, Commander.” Luke’s mouth twitched at the sides as he realized that Cody had thought he had been a padawan. By some technicalities, he mused that it could have been true, but he had never been given such an official title. He had always just been Luke Skywalker.

He wasn’t given the title of Jedi Master either. 

Sinker’s signature rippled for a moment before his helmet tipped toward Cody and his shoulders rose. “What are your orders, Commander?” 

Cody glanced toward him, before looking back toward the troopers covering behind another AT-TE near the new cliff’s ledge. “Sinker, let the men of the 104th know about Wolffe’s situation. The order of this mission falls under my discretion now.” 

‘What about me?” Luke asked. 

“Wooley is over there.” Cody gestured with one hand. “You can stick with him, try to help in any way that you can.” 

“I think I might have a better idea,” Luke replied.

The commander’s head swung toward him. “What?” 

“Those missiles had to come from somewhere, Commander, and I intend to make sure they can’t be fired again.” 

Sunbeams turned to rays around Cody as the commander’s voice caught at the edge of his throat, but Luke was moving before the man could speak. His feet pushed off of the vegetation and threw himself into a sprint, bounding forward with a speed that he had perfected over the years. His short time running around Dagobah had taught him how to jump and tumble, but his time navigating ancient temples and the landscapes around them had taught him how to soar. 

“Djarin!” Cody’s voice echoed over the ringing blaster bolts and the explosions. 

One of his hands reached up to his throat as he sprinted and unclasped the buttons at the edge of his cloak. It ripped away from his shoulders and fluttered to the ground behind him. At the same time, his other hand grasped the hilt of his lightsaber and unclipped it from his belt. The green blade ignited, the hiss and snap jumping into the air beside him. 

Blaster bolts rained down upon him as he moved and filled him with a wave of memories, from the cold winds of Hoth to the war cries of Ewoks. Fighting had been something he had lost focus of, something he had chosen to turn away from if he could. But the thrum of it lived in his bones, awakening with each block and swing of his saber. The instincts that had been honed into him shined through as he darted forward and up the mountainside.

Droids twisted toward him and raised their blasters, but the rhythm of battle hummed within his bones as he shot forward and sliced through them. Metal parts clunked against the ground, pieces jolting off and flying in different directions. Wires flickered and flamed after his lightsaber cut through them, robotic eyes dulled as he Forced Crushed others or simply flung them from the heights of the mountainsides. 

The mountain slope became steeper and steeper, mixing with cliff faces and streams that rushed past his feet. A mixture of bent trees and pulled vegetation created terraces. The terraces crept up the side of the mountains and became larger, beginning to house buildings and larger structures that reached toward the sky. 

The Force surged around him as he stepped closer to one of these terraced parts. He pushed himself against the mountain face, effectively hiding himself, and tipped his head forward to look closer. A large group of droids surrounded the area, working in tandem with each other. There was a series of droids protecting the edge, firing down toward the fray of clone troopers, while the rest stayed back and passed heavy equipment between each other. 

Missiles, but none that Luke could identify off of the top of his head. 

His eyes followed the trail until reaching the singular droid raising a missile launcher. The droid aimed toward the bottom of the mountain, into the deepest part of the clone army, and fired. 

The missile stopped in the middle of the air and Luke gasped, feeling the sudden strain in his arm as his hand shot out. His fingers curled inward, and the metal along the missile began to dent and pop. The flaring thrusters rippled in Luke’s hands before they fizzled out. He opened his hand and the missile dropped back into the group of droids. Robotic screams were silenced by the deafening explosion that followed. 

“One down, four to go.” Luke stepped back into the open and tilted his head backward, looking up the mountain. His eyes trained on two other terraces and the droids that lined their edges, watching as their bronze slender heads stared down the mountain with blasters raised. 

Luke swung his arm and blocked the stray bolts that brushed near him. The mountain’s ground and dirt crumbled underneath his fingers and feet as he pushed himself upward, catching onto the sides of stones and hauling himself higher. He summoned the Force with each grapple, with each leap that he clung to. He kept a trained eye on the two terraces, waiting silently for the twin explosions that would erupt with them. 

The Rebellion had been full of moments like this, Luke remembered, but some of the technologies had been different. Droids were the biggest difference and they were easy opponents in comparison to the Empire’s soldiers. 

Droids could be restored, but sentients never could. 

The first Death Star still haunted him, it still clung to the back of his skin and anchored itself in his mind. It had become interwoven in his being in the same way that it had become tied to the stories and legends about himself. Millions of deaths coated his hands, even if it had been for a larger cause: to stop the deaths of billions or trillions. 

The impenetrable fortress had been the only thing he could think of when Master Yoda had explained mental shields to him. It had become the image he thought of when crafting his shields, when pulling him around himself and hiding from the world. Part of him wilted at the fact it was the only thing he was able to think of, when nothing else fit the way he wanted to protect himself. 

Not until he met Din, not until he felt beskar underneath his fingers and the silence that it echoed through the Force. Only moments of his husband’s signature flooded out from behind the beskar armor and any blaster bolt that came his way ricocheted off without a scratch. 

Slowly, the Death Star that surrounded his mind became replaced by walls of Beskar and the singular Mudhorn signet that followed it. 

Those thoughts flooded away, an explosion catching his attention. 

He tipped his head back as the missile spun into the net of his hand, the Force curling around it as he twisted his hand and crunched his fingers. The missile sputtered and swung around, before shooting off. A louder explosion followed and a droid’s head went flying past Luke as he began to climb upward again. 

He grabbed the ledge of the terrace and hauled himself up, planning his feet and standing against the charring vegetation and burning timbers. The terrace cut into the side of the mountain, a set of stairs running up from it to the terrace above it. Luke darted forward and jumped, clearing the flight of stairs in one bound. 

“Woah!” A droid’s voice shouted, wobbly and out-of-tone. 

Another droid pointed at him. “A Jedi!” 

“What are you doing?” A third droid shouted. “Shoot him!” 

The blaster bolts rained down on him as he surged forward. His lightsaber arched across the air and returned the fire, his shoulders turning and his legs sprinting. The droids fell apart one by one, their parts burning or wires sparking. They collapsed to the ground as if they had been pushed over or as if they had simply lost balance. 

One of the droids turned to him and raised the missile launcher, aiming toward him. 

Luke reached out with one hand and grabbed the droid through the Force, crushing him before he could fire. 

The missile launcher fell toward the ground, the head of the missile colliding against the floor. A panicked shot flew through Luke’s chest as it slammed into the vegetation and stones. His arms flew up to protect himself, but the wind blew and blaster bolts fired in the background. 

He looked up at the missile launcher that lay across the ground, before a sigh ripped away from his chest and he walked forward. His hand fluttered over the side before falling upon it as he lifted it up and heaved it over his shoulder. 

“I know someone who’d like to use you,” Luke laughed as his thoughts trailed to the gray trooper at the bottom of the mountain. He could imagine Sinker’s Force signature as the weapon was placed in his hands.

---

Indeed, Sinker had loved the missile launcher. 

His Force signature had risen from its sunken state to high-rising bubbles that popped along the surface of geysers. Even with the helmet obscuring the man’s face, it was easy to tell that he was smiling when his hands leaped forward and he laughed. 

“Alright, sir!” He had said. “You can count on me!” 

Cody had simply shaken his head and then grabbed Luke’s arm, pulling him away from the group of troopers that had appeared around him.

The 212th commander had dragged him through the battle site to the farthest end, furthest away from the battle and the foot of the mountain. A military camp had been set up there, hidden in trenches that vanished into the vegetation and dirt line. Green tarps had been pulled over the top, with layers of vegetation to hide them, to make tents. 

One half-trench-half-tent had been constructed with a flap of yellowish orange at the front, and Cody had shoved him inside after they arrived at it. Four areas had been created in the small space, each with their own bedroll and blanket. One of these areas, Cody had pushed down onto with an annoyed huff before turning and dropping onto the bedroll closest to it. 

Luke had been impressed, specifically by two things. One, that the four bedrolls go to have their own spaces, and two, that the commander had specifically picked the bed roll closest to Luke and closest to the door. 

But now, he watched the man take a deep breath and work at taking his armor off.

“I have to thank you,” Cody said.

“What for?” Luke asked. 

“For saving me.” Cody looked up at him. “I know what a Force Push feels like, I know that it was you who pushed me and the others out of the way.” 

“I tried to save everyone,” Luke said.

Melancholy turned in his bones as he looked toward the man, watching as his face turned away and dipped back to his armor. 

The feeling wasn’t his alone; the man’s sunlight rays flickered and wilted at the edges as he pulled each piece off. When Luke focused harder on the man’s aura, the picture became clearer. Worry trembled at the sides and frustration bubbled at the spots around his head, creating spikes and currents all around him, but they were washing away under the layer of calm that he pulled close to him. They were barely there, only breaching whenever the facade of stillness and professional attitude slipped up. 

“You pretend to wear your heart on your sleeve, but really you push it down so deep that it charges up to the surface to strangle you,” Luke said. 

Cody’s head shot up and swung toward him, his brows narrowed and his lips pursed. “Excuse me?” 

“I know it’s not my place, but I’ve been where you are before and I’ve seen it in many other people as well.” Luke waved a hand before settling them both in his lap, leaning back as he looked away.  “I would have liked someone to talk some sense into me.” 

“You don’t know what you’re talking about.” 

“So you’re not interested in Master Kenobi?” Luke glanced back at the man, raising an eyebrow. 

Silence wavered from the man as he looked up, his shoulders tipping backward as his Force signature rippled over the stream. The rays fluctuated and shivered, dropping around him and then brightening up as if someone had just turned the lights on in a dark room.

Yet, the man still stared at him with narrowed eyes and clenched fists. Confusion and anxiety dusted across Luke’s tongue, wafting over to him from the man like smells diving into the air. 

Luke sighed and looked down, letting his thoughts drip out into his voice as he said, “Jedi can’t form attachments, I understand, but isn’t that subjective? What is an attachment? What about friendships or roles? Isn’t being a Jedi an attachment itself?” 

“Love, they can’t have loving relationships.” Cody turned away from him and leaned against his knees. 

“Because they risk falling to the Dark Side.” 

“Yes.” Cody's eyes gazed toward him through the side of his face, narrowing with the furrow in his brow. 

“In my experience, it has been my attachments that have kept me in the Light.” Luke’s thoughts spun as he found himself diving back into the man’s Force signature, of the trust that he felt for him, and the need to explain everything.  “I've brushed with the Dark Side, moments where I nearly fell or where I let anger come over me because someone used my attachments against me. Yet, it was always those same attachments that brought me back.” 

“What?” Cody’s voice wavered as the man sat up, turning toward him. The beams of light around him bent and turned. They cut through each other and blocked the beams that sprung from deep within. 

Luke rubbed the sides of his hands at Cody’s wavering signature and said, “What I’m saying is the Jedi Order is flawed, as is their understanding of attachments.” 

“You’re against the Order?” Cody’s voice lowered, the side of his jaw clenching and flexing. 

“No, not at all.” Luke shook his head and patted his hands down, smiling a little bit to ease the tension crossing the man’s figure. “I’m a Jedi, that I will always be. That doesn't mean I don’t have criticisms of the Order or have ideas on how things should be changed.” 

The explosions of thoughts and feelings on Cody’s end nearly took Luke out of his seat, but they came as quickly as they went. They sputtered out of existence as Cody slammed his mental shields shut. Remnants flickered on the air and landed on Luke’s skin, but they held only small portions of what had been. 

It had surprised Luke at first to learn that the commander had shields, well maintained ones at that, but it became easier to understand why as he spent time with the man. Cody spent the most time with the Jedi out of his brothers, which meant he probably ran into Sith alongside them. He had sensitive information, specifically retained to the Jedi or upcoming campaigns, that could be hazardous in the hands of the enemies. 

While it seemed all clones had shields to some extent, they weren’t at the level of the two commanders that Luke had met. Only a few had come close, the ARCs he had met, and the CMOs that had passed by him on the battlefield. He had a feeling he would be running into one of them soon enough. 

Luke knew that he could press against the man’s shields, figure out what was going on in that head of his, but he had no real desire to. Instead, he watched as Cody thought to himself and trained his eyes on the farthest wall, his fingers curling and unfurling, his leg beginning to bounce at the ground. 

“You aren’t Kenobi.” Cody’s shoulders fell and his head turned away, gaze dropping toward the ground. “Just because that is what you believe, doesn’t mean that he will agree.” 

“I beg to differ,” Luke said and sat up straighter, “Remember, I know Master Kenobi in the future.” 

The Clone Trooper turned to him, his eyes narrowed and his jaw clenching. Another round of confusion filled the air, mixed with frustration and a tang of bitterness. Luke swallowed the feelings, pushing them aside and forging ahead. 

“Master Kenobi cares deeply for the people closest to him, so deeply that they can easily be called attachments,” Luke said, “I know from experience that he would put the people he cares for above the Order.” 

Cody shook his head. “I could never ask that of the General.” 

“You may not get that choice,” Luke lowered his voice, “Sometimes, the Force makes that decision for you.” 

The man huffed, eyes turning toward him and narrowing. “Like how?” 

He contemplated how he could reply to that for a moment, his thoughts drifting toward the back of his mind as his shoulders sank. He heard the distant cries in his ears again, the tug in his gut, and the pain in his chest. His mind fell back to that day, before he took a breath and looked back up. 

“My sister was tortured and I threw away my chance at being a Jedi to save her,” Luke explained, “She didn’t have a choice, she didn’t ask to be tortured, and that same thing could happen to you.” 

A jolt ran through Cody’s body and his head snapped toward him, eyes widening while his mouth struggled to form a sentence. Then he looked away, a muscle in his cheek flexing as his teeth ground together. 

“Kenobi wouldn’t come to save me if I was captured.” Cody shook his head and his signature began to crawl toward itself. Careful shields dropped around his mind before seizing back up, but not before Luke caught his thoughts. 

I’m a clone, I’m expendable.  

Luke’s stomach turned, rippling with sadness and sorrow, before he imagined the look on his Master’s face at those words. 

“You aren’t expendable to him.” Luke laughed, but reached out and placed a hand on the man’s shoulder. His hand squeezed and he continued to speak. “I’ve felt it, I can sense the way his signature bends towards you. It doesn’t take eyes to see the way that he trusts you with everything. No one else here gets that treatment but you, and it’s not because he thinks you’re expendable, it’s not because you’re a clone.”

For a wavering moment, Cody doesn’t respond, and Luke’s heart stutters. But then in a voice softer than fur, quieter than a murmur, the man asked, “He cares about me?” 

Air fell out of his chest as he squeezed the man’s shoulder again and nodded. “Yes, he does.” 

Pain flickered in Luke’s chest as he pulled his hand away and looked down at his fingers, he knew it wasn’t just his pain that he was feeling. 

The Jedi Order had been flawed, Luke had been able to see that from everything that Master Yoda and Master Kenobi tried to teach him. He could list off all the things he was changing as he started to build his new temple, as he started to welcome new Jedi learners of all ages. But there had been one rule that had always bothered him more than any else, one rule that was still in effect during the Clone Wars. 

“The Jedi aren’t allowed to form attachments, but quite frankly that’s completely hypocrisy because they have more attachments coming out of their asses than most people I’ve met.” 

“Yourself included?” Cody looked toward him, his tone taking a lighter note. 

Luke laughed as the man’s thoughts broke through again and he let go of Cody’s shoulder. Then the beskar necklace against his chest thrummed. “Have you seen me and Mando? I know we haven’t been subtle.” 

Laughter shook Cody’s shoulders as he looked over at him and a smile appeared across the man’s face, twitching at the edges of his cheeks and letting out a glimpse of his teeth.

Relief flooded Luke as he saw it, as the man turned to him, and he knew that everything was okay. 

“He keeps you on the Light Side?” Cody tilted his head, raising an eyebrow. 

“More than anyone else in my life.” 

“And the Jedi of your time have noticed, I take it?” 

A snort left Luke’s throat before he could stop it and his hand jumped to cover the smile that raced across his face.  “Master Yoda has hit me with a cane many times for it, but there isn’t anything he can do about it besides that.” 

“They haven’t kicked you out?” Surprise flickered across Cody’s Force signature as the man turned to him, eyes widening. 

“If they could, I’m sure that they would.” Luke shook his head and offered a small smile as he looked the man in the eye. “But times have changed, it’s been over thirty years after all.” 

Sparkles appeared at the edges of Cody’s aura, flickering in and out in flashes of yellows, oranges, and golds. Another smile pulled at Luke’s lips as he saw the familiar feeling rest on the soldier’s shoulders; the feeling of hope that hugged the man and held him close now. 

A shrill filled the air and then a voice echoed out of Cody’s vambrace. “Commander Cody, are you there?” 

Luke’s gaze snapped to the commlink as he recognized the voice of General Kenobi. Though the man spoke in a calm tone, he could feel licks of frustration sinking off of the man alone from here. 

“I’m here,” Cody answered as he pulled the vambrace back on. 

“Oh, good,” Kenobi said, “I’m glad that you’re alive, Cody.” 

A crease formed between the commander’s brows as he opened his mouth to reply, his back already beginning to straighten again. But then his eyes glanced toward Luke and met his gaze, everything they had just spoken about falling back on top of him. 

With a small nudge, Luke nodded to the commlink and smiled. 

“Alive as I can be,” Cody replied with relaxing shoulders. 

A chuckle fell out of the commlink and eased the man’s shoulders even further.

“Well, at least you’re alive,” Kenobi said with a smile in his tone that bled away into a sigh, “In other news, I haven’t been able to locate General Koon. This side of the mountain is crawling with droids, but there hasn’t been a sign of any clone troopers besides Boil and Waxer’s bickering.” 

Laughter bubbled in the background of Kenobi’s side of the connection, followed by the stifled laughter of Luke’s. He tilted his head back and pressed his gloved hand over his mouth, letting himself imagine the two clone troopers shoving each other and trading snide remarks. 

But the laughter faded away, replaced by the serious tone in Kenobi’s voice. 

“I know they’re out here, Cody, I can sense them.” 

“Have you checked the caves, Master?” Luke asked as he leaned over. 

“Caves?” Kenobi asked, before sighing again. “Of course, that’s why this planet feels odd. Caves, why didn’t I think of that?” 

“One of the caves here collapsed after it was bombed, it looks more like a trench now than it did before. No signs of cave entrances or anything from the surface,” Cody added as he held the vambrace closer, his fingers curling around the edge of it. 

“That would explain a lot of things in the terrain on this side, actually.” Kenobi’s side rippled in sound and static for a moment, before his voice came back. “There are dozens of these craters scattered at the foot of the mountain.” 

Cody took a deep breath, before replying, “Then General Koon and his men are probably down there, he never leaves a man behind.” 

“That’s where I’ll head then, into this cave system.” Kenobi decided after a moment. “I’m bound to turn something up that way.” 

“I’m sure that you are,” Cody said with a lowered voice. 

“You seemed troubled, Cody, is everything alright?” 

Uncomfortable waves flooded Luke as he heard the question, as he looked toward the Clone Commander. Suddenly, he felt as if he was watching an intimate moment or something far more private. With a deep breath, Luke turned his back toward the call and began to mess with the bed roll that he had been sitting on.

Even with his focus on the material beneath his hands, he could still hear the conversation behind him and taste the emotions in the air that sprung from it. 

“When the cave collapsed, Wolffe went with it,” Cody said. 

“Is he…?” Kenobi’s concerned tone replied, with only a small flicker of surprise. 

“He’s alive,” Cody said with a strain in his voice, “Luke was able to sense him and Mando stuck in the same cave system together, already moving to find a way out by the time we were able to regroup.” 

“I’ll keep an eye out for him.” The surprise was still palpable on Kenobi’s voice as he spoke, but the care and concern there rang true. “If he’s anything like you, he’ll be just fine.” 

“Thank you, sir.” 

There was a laugh from Kenobi’s end. “How many times have I told you that you can use my name?” 

“Plenty of times, sir.” 

“Ah, well,” Kenobi sighed, “Stay safe, Cody.” 

“Stay safe,” Cody replied, “Obi-Wan.”

Chapter Text

“Stay safe,” the commlink crackled, “Obi-Wan.” 

Then the static switched off and Obi-Wan found himself back in the rustle of wind, laying across his stomach on the low vegetation that bundled up on the side of the mountain. Warmth settled in his chest as the sound of his name rang through his mind before a voice behind him chuckled. 

“Stay safe,” Waxer laughed. 

Boil snorted from Waxer’s side, the two brothers practically laying on top of each other in the little space the group had carved out for themselves. Hidden from the droids and protected from the harsh winds, the three laid across the narrow and tight area together. 

“Yes, very amusing.” Kenobi glanced back at the two, raising an eyebrow.

Bubbles appeared across the Force as Boil nodded at him, and Obi-Wan could imagine the smile behind the man’s helmet, before he said, “Come on, General.” 

The tease slid off as Obi-Wan rolled his eyes and turned back toward the side of the mountain, looking down at the edges and climbs. 

“Ah, it’s no use,” Waxer said, “He’s not going to talk about it.” 

“His pining knows no bounds,” Boil replied. 

Obi-Wan sighed, “Let it rest, both of you.” 

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” Waxer sighed and raised his voice, letting the tone completely fall out as mimicry took over, “He’ll come to me when he’s ready.” 

“He’s going at the rate of a gonk droid,” Boil scoffed.

“Boil,” Obi-Wan said and glanced back over his shoulder. 

The two troopers fell silent as Obi-Wan returned his gaze to the mountainside, narrowing his view on specific areas. He pulled out a set of binoculars as the two clones shuffled behind him, scoffing slightly at each other. The light oranges and reds of their Force signatures wafted over him as he spotted outcroppings and rocks further up the mountain, layers of stones jutting out and creating a ringed crown across the area. 

The perfect spot for a cave opening , he thought to himself, but how are we going to get there? 

Before he could think of an answer to that, Waxer said, “At least Cody said your name.” 

“That’s progress, right?” Boil added. 

A wave flooded over Obi-Wan’s shoulder as he set the binoculars down and took a deep breath, letting his eyes close as the Force surrounded him. It blanketed his senses and hugged him tight, filling a warmth into his limbs as the cold air rushed by them again. 

“Let’s not talk about my love life.” Obi-Wan lowered the binoculars and pointed up the mountain, to the cave entrance. “Instead, Boil, focus on getting us there.” 

“On it, sir!” 

Boil’s bubbling and sticky Force signature swung past him as the man began to move, his shoulders twisting and his body climbing forward across the mountainous landscape. Seconds later, Waxer scraped by Obi-Wan and hauled his body up and out of the crevice. The two clones latched onto the footholds and steadied themselves as they began hiking, letting one hand hover over their blasters as they moved. 

Always ready, always prepared. 

Obi-Wan picked himself up and followed, letting his shoulders roll back and his spine crack before beginning his own climb behind them. His lightsaber bounced against his thigh as held onto the edge of stones and kicked away at vegetation, not liking the feeling of it wrapping around his boots. 

The Marshal Commander was constantly on Obi-Wan’s mind, whether it was in the background or taking his complete attention. This had become a fact that he lived with, something that had grown a part of him after his first meeting with the dark-haired man. When he had first met him, the warm rays of his signature and the turn of his eyes sung of glory, the very thing that made his heart stutter to a stop. 

As a Jedi, he should have no care for glory, but it had never been something he was able to push away. 

There were many things that he had trouble with as a Jedi, though they had grown easier over the years as he learned more about himself and came to grapple with the thoughts inside of his head. At first, it had been how the children of the Jedi were treated, the younglings taken from their homes and the ones that never became padawans, but then it was the falling order of padawan to knight to master and then at last, and as it had always been, was the rules on attachment. 

Attachment had never been an easy subject and debating it brought ire, but it had always been an elusive-taught topic. It felt as if everyone had a differing opinion on what an attachment was or was not. Kit Fisto claimed it was the feelings within a relationship, Yoda claimed it was a relationship where people are tethered to each other, Plo Koon claimed it was anything that a person wasn’t willing to let go of, and Mace Windu claimed he didn’t care to discuss it. 

At this point, Obi-Wan was positive that attachment was a subjective idea. 

One could love without attachment, were his own thoughts on the matter, but he questioned where the collective line in the sand was drawn. When did love and feelings turn to being cast from the Jedi Order? 

Could he love Cody without being thrown from his home? 

As a member of the Council, he was sure that he could if he never took the side of his love over the side of the Jedi. 

He wasn’t even sure such a thing was possible either. 

Being a Jedi was something that could fulfill him, how could he possibly live without it? Would he be willing to leave?

Obi-Wan’s heart fluttered as he knew the answer to that question, but his stomach dropped at the thought and his mind turned away from such a possibility. He forged on after Waxer and Boil, trying to tear himself from the scenarios drifting in his mind once again, only to plunge into another well that rose from deep within him. 

Anakin, his brother, his closest friend. 

Images of the man flashed across Obi-Wan’s mind as he eased his way up the mountain, hearing the voice of his former padawan in his ear, Are you alright, Master? You look a little pale.

The small remarks and rising banter had flooded between them and hugged their shoulders. But it was gone now, as the two became separated by war and duty. 

The man was star systems away, mucking through mud and gunk with his padawan and the 501st at his side. The bond that attached them slung heavily at the Obi-Wan’s shoulder, quiet, but warm, and gentle, but durable. Anakin’s supernova Force signature flickered at the other end and beat to a steady tune, like a heart pumping away or the march of a band across a stage. It lodged a small bump in Obi-Wan’s throat as he imagined it, as he thought of the sparks and danger that clung to it, and as he thought of the man that it reminded him of. 

Luke Djarin. 

The Jedi’s Force signature sang like a star and hid like a ghost, it clung all around a room and swept across him like a breeze. Sparks of blue, deep and rooted, sprouted from him, and casts of green fluttered around him, like waving leaves in the branches of trees far above his head. 

The two men had similar signatures, but they were so different as well. 

Anakin’s was pointed and prodding, Luke’s was buzzing and loud. 

Luke’s held colors that exploded, shimmered, and fluttered, whereas Anakin’s were like watercolors that faded in each other and grew with him. 

Obi-Wan wondered if Luke was another padawan of Anakin's, another that learned from him and adapted to the signature that guided through him the Force. Ahoska’s signature was already turning to the same as Anakin’s, but with a shimmering tide of blues and whites to take over the golds and yellows that sat in the center. If Luke was Anakin’s future padawan, it would make sense why they knew each other, why they met in the future, and why the man’s signature was so similar. 

And ironically, it would make sense if one of Anakin’s padawans somehow ended up entangled with Death Watch. 

Though, Obi-Wan hoped that wasn’t the case. 

“General!” Waxer’s voice pulled Obi-Wan away from his thoughts and he turned to the man, his eyes blinking as the entrance of the cave came into sight. “Droids have been through here.”

Prints of feet, singular-sized and skinny, fell into perfect formation against the dirt-filled entrance. They fell away into the darkness, disappearing as the cave swallowed the light and threw up darkness. 

“That’s not good.” Obi-Wan ran a hand across his chin and pinched at the hairs of his beard. “I’ll lead the way, follow me.” 

“We’re going inside there?” Boil moaned.

Waxer grunted. “We just love caves.” 

“Waxer, a light please.” 

“Yes, general.” 

The rectangular object flickered to life in his hand as he began to move forward, letting his eyes scan over the stones and dirt. 

He took in as many features of the place as he could. Mushrooms began to appear as he stepped down a ledge, clinging to the sides of the walls and sticking their heads out. Worn-away steps lead him further into the system and the Force rang around him, like droplets of water in a pool. 

Tunnels branched out, he could feel them as they dug deep into the mountain and rooted across the planet’s flat lands. A tug within him pulled him down and down, deeper into the core of the mountain. He let the Force show him the way and descend into the bellies of the cave system. Walls warped around him as they dipped and dived, spinning and opening, revealing more and more of what lay beneath the rocky fortress above. 

“Do you hear that, sir?” Boil asked. 

Waxer grunted. “Sounds like droids marching.” 

“Let’s be careful then,” Obi-Wan replied, “Stay quiet.” 

The sound grew and grew as he moved forward, even as he began to duck and as his feet hurried over the smooth and rough surfaces that dotted the tunnel floors. It pounded against his head, against his instincts, and ignited a scream within his chest as he shoved himself forward. The synced rhythm bounded over them before erupting into open sound as the tunnel fell away. 

A larger area perched beneath Obi-Wan as he slid to a stop, barely peeking out at the exit. He looked down at the droids marching with their backs to him, their rows disjointed and misconfigured in the oddly shaped space. He spotted the yellow-painted head of one droid at the front, its hand raising into the sky suddenly. They halted in front of a smaller tunnel on the far side, their blaster raising and waiting. 

Then a flash of silver dashed from the area, followed by lights of blaster fire and the ringing of metal. The Mandalorian rushed from the tunnel and slid into the group of droids. The Darksaber cast off rings of light as the man spun and slashed through the enemies. Their parts clattered to the ground and broke off into pieces as the man moved forward, disregarding their movements and dodging through their masses. 

Whoever he didn’t cut down, he shot instead. 

Five droids collapsed at his feet by the time a second figure appeared in the tunnel entrance. A trooper coved in the color white, a shiny with few scraps across his cuirass and vambraces. He raised his blaster and began to shoot, his shots taking out the droids on the sides of the group. 

“Waxer, Boil, let’s help them out!” Obi-Wan dropped down from the ledge and grasped onto his lightsaber. The blue blade leaped to life as the droids in the back turned to him, one screeching at the sight. 

“A Jedi!” It screamed. “Look out!” 

Its head clattered to the floor as Obi-Wan charged forward. Arcs of blue joined the spirals of glowing black in the darkness of the cave. His eyes fell closed as he reached out in the Force, using it to guide his attacks and movements, letting it help him deflect blasts and dodge the debris littering the floor. 

Blaster shots flooded his hearing with swooshing hisses and cries, robotic demands falling apart to crying wires. The voices of three clones calling out to each other echoed at the sides, carrying commands and orders in a swift deliverance that made Obi-Wan’s heartache. 

Finally, he opened his eyes as he felt the last circuit of droid fall to his feet, looking up at the Mandalorian and trooper that were arms-lengths away from him now. 

“General Kenobi!” The white-armored trooper’s voice was lighter than his brothers, on the verge of young, and held a hint of surprise. 

Mando’s helmet turned to him, his voice wheezing out, “How did you find us?” 

“Your Jedi told me to look in the caves when I comm’ed to let Cody know that I hadn’t found anyone yet.” Obi-Wan clipped his lightsaber back onto his belt and stepped closer. “I’m glad that he did, do you know where the others are?” 

Surprise flickered between the gaps of the Mandalorian armor, unable to be hidden by the beskar surrounding him. Then the unmistakable bubbles of relief and happiness fluttered around him, despite the fact that his shoulders remained pulled tight and his fingers continued to twitch at his sides. The only slip in his body language was how his helmet tilted and his shoulders turned toward the trooper beside him, 

The shiny stepped forward when Mando didn’t answer his question, “Yes, sir! We can show you where they are.”

Flickers of oranges and red, twinging on black, appeared at the edges of the man and sank into Obi-Wan’s skin. It felt like nails dragging across him, like a creature sitting upon his shoulders. The ache of anxiety, guilt, and despair, that the man had packed away to move on. 

“Trooper, you feel uneasy,” Obi-Wan said, “Is something wrong?” 

The trooper’s body froze, his hands grasping tightly onto his blaster, but then his head swiveled toward Mando. Their visors met for a singular second before Mando stepped forward and patted his shoulder. 

“Attention, you didn’t do anything wrong,” Mando said. 

Attention shook his head, his voice lowering. “No, I failed my vode .” 

“You didn’t.” 

“I told them that the way out was caved in! It wasn’t!” Attention pulled away from the hand on his shoulder, only to be stopped when Mando’s other hand found his other shoulder. 

“I once fought my vod , and we ended up in the service tunnels that our Alor told us to stay away from,” Mando’s said in a lowered voice, his tone taking on a more serious under current, “I pushed my vod and his helmet hit against the wall, he passed out and the ceiling behind us collapsed.” 

“What did you do?” Attention asked. 

“I panicked.” Mando let go of his shoulders. “I tried to wake my vod up because I thought we would die. We had only been gone a few minutes, it would take hours before the Tribe noticed we were missing.” 

“How did you get out?” 

“My vod woke up and cursed at me, before dragging me through the manhole cover above us.” 

Warmth flickered between them, resting upon them as the story came to an end. Obi-Wan’s eyes blinked as he took in the words, letting them sink into his chest. A smile pulled at the edges of his lips as he looked to the shiny, taking in the pink notes of surprise and the fading reds and blacks as he listened. 

He’s a good leader, Obi-Wan thought while letting his eyes turn to the Darksaber clipped to the man’s belt. A good Mand’alor.

“My vod noticed what I couldn’t,” Mando continued, “Your vode will notice what you can’t.” 

“But…” Attention tried feebly, his word protests dying.

“You won’t fail your vode when you miss something, because they won't fail you either.” Mando nodded to him, crossing his arms. “You are a good soldier, and with your vode, you are a deadly unit.” 

A flicker of relief ran through the air, tasting like the sun on Obi-Wan’s lips and he smirked at the two men. “Well said, Mando.” 

The Mandalorian turned to him, visor tilting for a moment before he said, “You want to see the others.” 

“I’m assuming that General Koon is with them,” Obi-Wan admitted.

Mando nodded. “We met him a few minutes ago when droids began to file down the tunnels.” 

“We can show you the way, sir,” Attention said. 

Obi-Wan smiled at the man and nodded, gesturing for him. “We’ll follow your lead.”

Waxer and Boil fell into line behind Attention as he turned around and began to walk, the triplet of clones blending against each other and their voices starting to chatter. Amusement fluttered in his chest as Obi-Wan watched them, two veterans nudging the shiny along with their own words and encouragement. He could feel the pride and care sweeping around them, their auras swaying with tenderness and support as they began to walk further into the caves. 

The Mandalorian fell in place beside him with his head high and his shoulders pulled back. One check through the Force revealed that the man was unharmed, likely only carrying bruises and aches, but nothing more. But now that he was close enough, the leaks of his aura through the armor caught Obi-Wan’s attention. 

His beskar-covered Force signature sang like rain and rock, an abundant source of fulfilling life that could teeter into a storm or into a lazy river. The man held the ability to crash like a waterfall or destroy like a tsunami, but he rested like a stream and commanded like a delta. It swept under Obi-Wan’s self and settled at their feet, but when he brushed over it in the Force it reeled back and the shields around Mando slammed shut. 

Clearly, Luke had trained him how to do that.

Obi-Wan drew himself back in and looked ahead, back to the twisting tunnels in the darkness and lower slopes. The Force grew around him as he let himself sink into it, revealing the path to him before his light could. It let him avoid the slippery areas and step far away from loose stones, it let him duck before he could smash his face against the cave ceilings when they fell away. 

Somehow, the man beside him was keeping up just as well. 

“Do you do this often?” Obi-Wan asked. “I have the feeling that you do.” 

Mando stepped down a ledge and then another, his helmet tilted toward him before tiling away. “I do.” 

“You keep up well,” Obi-Wan explained. 

“Jedi seem to like caves,” Mando replied, “Always so interested in what dangers are inside.” 

A part of himself lightened as the man finally eased up. 

He replied, “Yes, well, hidden treasures can always be found in caves.”

“Luke says the same,” Mando snorted. 

“You don’t agree?” Obi-Wan smirked as he glanced at the man. 

The Mandalorian looked back toward him, his helmet’s visor staring straight through him. “I think they’re death traps.” 

“Oh, nothing like a good old death trap,” Obi-Wan laughed. 

Before the Mandalorian replied, Attention stopped and looked back at them. He raised a hand before sweeping it to the side and pointing to a winding tunnel. 

“The general is that way, with Commander Wolffe.” Attention then swept his hand in the other direction, to a space that began to widen up under fallen rocks. “Most of the men are in this area. The rest are hunting down the rest of the droids.” 

“Thank you, Attention.” Obi-Wan walked forward. “Could you show Waxer and Boil to the men? They have extra rations to share.” 

“Yes, sir!” Attention saluted and led the two troopers away, ignoring their brotherly remarks and teases. 

“Alright, Mando,” Obi-Wan said, “Let’s talk with Plo.” 

Mando nodded and turned to the twisting tunnel, his armor disappearing behind the cave walls as began to walk down it. Light bounced off the walls and across the beskar armor as Obi-Wan followed, but it jumped at him rather than away from him. It guided him into an open area, where flashlights were set up in the crevices of the walls and across the floor. 

General Koon stood to the side, hovering over the body of a trooper laying across the ground. His hands were folded neatly behind his back, but his head bobbed up and down as he looked down at the man. His filtration mask glinted in the light as he looked up, catching onto their movements as they entered. 

Commander Wolffe grimaced as he propped himself up against the wall, blood drying across the white and gray of his armor.

Wolffe looked up at them and whirled his cybernetic eye, close to an eye roll. “ Sha’buir.” 

“Di’kut.” Mando stood over him, beskar and helmet hiding any signs that Obi-Wan could try to grasp. Despite it, something about the interaction made his lips pull into a smile.

Plo’s voice called the man’s attention, his hands clasping in front of him as he looked at the Mandalorian. “Wolffe has told me how you risked your life for him and his men, thank you.” 

Mando looked back at him, before he said, “This is the Way.” 

The words struck Obi-Wan in the chest, his breath failing for a moment. Memories and teachings flooded back to him, the Mandalorian culture and the numerous ways that graced it. He remembered Satine Kryze ranting to him hours in the night, his own words debating hers with a wide smile across his face. 

Traditionalists, extremists, and radicalists, wanting to return Mandalore to the way it had been hundreds of years prior, to the warriors and honor that had fallen out as time ticked on. Death Watch at the forefront, terrorists with the Darksaber and helmets dripping in blue, for reliability. 

The thought dug a dagger into his stomach as he stared at the man, finding himself wondering again, Who is this man?

“Wolffe explained that you are in the wrong time,” Plo said, breaking Obi-Wan from his thoughts.

“Yes,” Mando replied. 

“He wants to get back to his ad’ika ,” Wolffe added from the floor. 

Obi-Wan's chest jolted and his throat tightened, he has a child. 

The thought fit like a puzzle piece into the mystery that was Mando and it made Obi-Wan’s stomach turn. Tears pulled at the back of his eyes as he imagined the pain the man felt, being separated from his child by thirty years of time. Anakin flickered into his mind and dragged more thoughts to the surface. 

What if he was sent back thirty years in time? Years before his former padawan was born?

The pain that flooded his heart pierced his breath and he forced his thoughts away, looking to the only other Master Jedi in the room. 

Plo Koon’s Force signature was a steady beat of warmth in the cold-damp air, flickering like a firelight in winter. Yet it sparked more than usual as the Kel Dori turned to observe the Mandalorian, a keen sense of interest and wonder filling the air, along with an underlayer of protection and care. 

“This type of situation has occurred before, some hundred years ago,” Plo said as looked at Mando, “I was there to help when it occurred, and I will do my best to help you now.” 

“How was the last situation resolved?” Mando asked.

“First, you must understand that time travel does not exist,” Plo explained, “but it is possible for one to travel to a parallel dimension, that is exactly the same except that it is either years ahead or years behind. You have not time traveled, but rather have entered another dimension.” 

Mando’s helmet tilted. “How can you be sure?” 

“Because if you had time traveled, your existence here would have changed the course of everything, no matter how small your action was.” Plo moved his hand as he explained, gesturing toward the Mandalorian. “You would cease to exist as you are now and would have noticed changes in yourself, but there have been none, yes?” 

“Yes,” Mando said.

“There are two ways a person can be brought to another dimension,” Plo said, “One is by a Sith Artifact, and the other is by the will of the Force.” 

“Magic osik. ” Mando nodded.

Laughter erupted out of Wolffe at the words, his body quaking on the floor. Obi-Wan felt a surge of warmth in his stomach as well, tasting the laughter and giddiness in the air as more chuckles came from the troopers surrounding them.
As the moment faded, Obi-Wan asked, “Have you and your Jedi spoken about what could have caused you both to be sent here?” 

“Luke believes it was the Force, but until now he couldn’t be sure.” Mando turned to him. “I will have to tell him this.” 

“How does one get back once they’ve entered another dimension?” Obi-Wan asked as he looked back at Plo.

“If the Force has brought you here, only the Force can bring you back,” Plo said, before turning to Mando as he added, “There is something you are meant to do.” 

“I will discuss that with my Jedi.”

“And we should discuss getting out of here.” Obi-Wan motioned forward. “My men and I found a way in, so that will be our way out.” 

“We’ll need to reunite the men,” Plo said.

“And then we lead them out.” 

“But if those clankers decide to attack us, we’ll be sitting ducks,” Wolffe said.

Mando shook his head. “It will be like moving through an enemy spacecraft, your men are trained for that.” 

“Are you trained for that?” Wolffe raised an eyebrow.

“Of course.” 

Wolffe snorted. “What aren’t you trained for?” 

The visor on Mando’s helmet glared across the light as it tilted to the side, his arms crossing over the front of his chest. “Mandalorians raise warriors.” 

The words flickered in the spaces of Mando’s armor, bleeding out pain and pride like a war cry. There was culture in the way he said, and Obi-Wan knew that from his time on Mandalore as well, but there were feelings and lifepaths connected to it when the man spoke. His Force signature hammered forward, his belief and values tidaling threw as he raised his head. 

And though the pride and connection swung through like a beaming star, there was a sense of trail and grief there. As if it hadn’t been an easy feat to be raised a warrior, or to raise a warrior of his own. 

His own child, Obi-Wan thought, He’s raising a warrior, just as he was raised one.

Plo Koon stepped forward toward the man, careful to not step on the resting trooper below them.

“You have been through much hardship, child,” Plo said as he looked down at Mando, resting a hand on his shoulder, “I know your name as my ad. ” 

A serene bubble filled the air as Plo nodded to the man, before dropping his hand away and turning to walk back into the tunnel. Amusement flickered across Obi-Wan’s tongue as he watched the Mandalorian turn to Wolffe, whose own look of surprise was slowly morphing into a wide smirk. 

Obi-Wan chuckled as he watched the two men, “I’m not surprised that he did that.” 

“Welcome to the family, ori’vod, ” Wolffe added, “Everyone in the 104th is his ad’ika.”

More feelings seeped out of Mando’s armor and licked into the air, embers that crossed a plain and flew into the sky along smoky trails. Warmth and comfort, a sense of home and life, wrapped around the man as he turned his head to look after Plo Koon. 

“I will respect it,” Mando said, “Even if it was without Mando’a.” 

“Are you supposed to say it in Mando’a?” 

“Generally, yes,” Obi-Wan said, “but Mandalorians have done it without and have done it differently before.”

“Well, we’ll share comm codes when this is over,” Wolffe grumbled at Mando, but a smile was stretching across his face, “I’ll introduce you to the Wolfpack.” 

“When we make it out of here.” Mando nodded toward him before his helmet turned to Obi-Wan. “I will help the commander.” 

“You don’t need to do that,” Wolffe complained, “Mental said I could walk on my own.” 

“Once you stop bleeding and have rested for a while,” Mando snapped back. “I gave my word to Cody, your vod, that I would fight alongside him. In his absence, you fulfill his role, and as such, I will aid you.” 

“Do all Mandalorians speak like him?” Wolffe turned to Obi-Wan, his eyes verging on an eye roll as his lips twisted back into a smile. 

“Not most of them, but a few that I’ve met, yes.” Obi-Wan smirked before he turned to the twisting tunnel, desperately wishing to return to his Commander. “Shall we?”

Chapter Text

Clones were heavier than they looked, which was something that shouldn’t have surprised Din as much as it did. 

One of his arms wrapped around Wolffe’s waist, his hand gripping onto the edges of his armor to hold him up. He moved his grip purposefully and carefully, minding the bandages poking out from beneath his armor and the shine of gel-bacta running over the cuts that poked out of the man’s blacks, up his neck. 

The commander’s hand clung to his closest shoulder and wedged his nails under the armor, into his flight suit. Both of their armors clanked against each other as they walked, beskar on plastoid creating dings and dunks through the dark tunnels. The noise joined with marching feet and lowered chatter.

After a few long hours of rounding up every trooper, they had set out into the darkness and followed after General Kenobi. The line of troopers fell into place, sergeants taking over units and barking them into place, and captains setting up the order and timing with an efficiency that would have made Bo-Katan proud. The injured were dotted along the line, protected by well-armed men with protective arches in their shoulders and swiveling heads. 

Somehow, Din and Wolffe found themselves with the men they had started this with. Soren led the group with his blaster steady in his hands, Tenie marching at his side as they pushed forward. At the back of the group, Comet hissed teasing remarks at Fang and pushed their shoulders against each other whenever the man grunted in return. 

The only addition was General Koon and the medic that followed right behind them. 

Mental, was the medic’s name, and Din wasn’t sure how well it fit the man. He had spoken in a soft and kind voice to Wolffe when reminding him of his injuries. The man had thanked Din for the field cauterizer, stating that his had broken during their tunnel collapse days before. With each interaction, the man’s head barely tilted and his shoulders remained level. 

It was Wolffe’s voice that broke Din from the routine marching, the endless thoughts that circled his head. 

“Tell me about your son,” Wolffe grunted, “Get my mind out of this kriffing place.”

Din snorted, before answering in a lowered voice, “He’s not human, but he is very small and young for his species.”

A huff fell from Wolffe’s lips, before he asked, “What is he?”

“We aren’t sure.” Din wrapped his fingers around Wolffe’s armor again as it began to slip. “He’s special.” 

“Those frogs probably don’t think so.” 

“He eats many things he’s not supposed to.”

“Sounds like some of the vod’ike around here.” Wolffe nodded his head forward, his cybernetic eye catching onto the trooper in front of him. “Fang got his name because someone dared him to eat fangite and the di’kut actually did it.” 

Got his name. Din thought. 

Then he realized something belatedly, something that should have been clear to him the moment that Waxer and Boil introduced themselves. None of the men around him, save for the Jedi, had a parent who was there to name them. 

Who gives them their names?

“How do you receive your names?” Din asked. 

“You don’t receive your name, you choose or earn it,” Wolffe explained. “Fangite earned that name with his stupidity, but if he didn’t want to be called that, he’d find another name.” 

“How did you get your name?” 

Wolffe’s frown twitched into a smirk and something glowed behind his real eye, a spark of mischievousness. “Sorry, we may be vode now, but that’s a batch-only story.” 

It was the first time that Din had been able to get a good look at the man’s face since they had started to walk. The colors in his HUD didn’t provide a lot of detail, but he could make out the sheen of sweat across the man’s forehead and the pained clench in his jaw. His eyes fell toward the floor, blinking lazily before squeezing shut and opening again. 

Urgency flooded Din as he glanced back at the medic behind him, who gave him a small nod and gestured toward the mouthpiece of his helmet. 

Keep him talking. 

Din turned back to the tunnel. 

“Tell me about your batchmates,” he said. 

Wolffe grunted, “Oh, well you’ve met Cody.” 

“Yes,” Din agreed, “But the others?” 

“Three of them,” Wolffe said, “Bly, Ponds, Fox.” 

“Go on.” 

“Pond’s the oldest, Cody is next, and then Bly, but Fox and I were taken out of the same tube. Means we’re the same age and that makes us what we clones consider twins.” 

“Where are your batchmates right now?” Din asked. “Besides Cody.” 

“Well, Fox is stationed on Coruscant, but Ponds and Bly are near Hutt Space the last I heard.” 

“Keep talking.” Din adjusted his grip around Wolffe’s armor, pulling him back up onto his feet as he began to drag them. “You can’t pass out.” 

“Alright, alright,” Wolffe grumbled, “I have a few stories I could share.”

Stories rippled out of the man and flowed into the air. He recounted times when his batchmates had been cadets and what it had been like to grow up on Kamino, from the thundering seas against the raging storms to the white barren walls that had held millions of copied faces. In the mixture of his ‘childhood’, he chuckled out how his vode had learned to throw punches and had learned to survive hours of torture. But there was a smile there, whenever he recounted a tale about his batchmates. 

Soon Din was learning about each of them. 

Apparently, Ponds was the most relaxed of them all, having an air around him that sang perfectly of how all mishaps and situations would be handled. But the man as a cadet had been a lot different. He had gotten angry enough to cuss out a trainer in Mando’a once. The trainer, a Mandalorian bounty hunter, had laughed so hard, he nearly pissed himself. 

Cody was the highest strung, always dealing with the harshest of problems and cases. And like any good ori’vod , he was protective and understanding. That was best shown in the story that Wolffe told about how the man had found a younger clone, Rex, and had gone out of his way to ensure that the boy would be integrated into their training unit. 

“He saved Rex when he did that,” Wolffe had said, but Din wasn’t sure exactly what he meant.

Then the man had gone on a tangent about his twin, Fox. The two brothers were exactly alike, even for being clones, except for a few key differences. Wolffe was overt about everything, whereas Fox was covert. They were two sides of the same coin; one brother would argue with the trainers and the other would sabotage the trainers. The combination made them a formidable duo, one that sent older clones screaming after them in the hallways. 

The last brother, Bly, was quieter and softer than the others. He was caring and kind to everyone, even the animals that could be spotted from Kamino’s boardwalks and landing zones. 

But that didn’t mean he wasn’t as crazy as them, having a streak of showing he would do anything to get what he wanted, including shoving his brothers out of the way, aka down the ladder, to get the best bunk. 

The rasp in Wolffe’s voice grew worse and worse, the air drying on his tongue. Each story became shorter and shorter as the man’s head lulled toward the floor, before swinging back up. His feet dragged across the floor at times, and his legs stumbled forward, the floor becoming an ever-looming threat. But there was a pressure at Din’s back, like a hand keeping him steady while he steadied the commander, and he knew it was the Jedi behind him. 

He had spent enough time with Luke to recognize the subtle use of the Force, to sense the small amount of worry in the action. 

The tunnel’s incline steepened and light poured on top of him. Din pulled Wolffe up the ledges, ignoring the snapping remarks and the tremble of the man’s fingers. The colors of HUD flickered back to normal as his night vision turned off, flickering into a dark hue of colors instead. 

The group around him changed in color, the whites of their armor no longer holding a sickly green and the dark shades taking over completely. Soren and Fangite were dressed in the dark grays, nearly flooded with the color as they rose up the ledges, the light bathing down against their helmets. 

“Almost there,” Din said to Wolffe.

Soren glanced back at them. “We might need to take cover in here, some men ahead of us are reporting the sounds of gunfire.” 

“Maybe Cody finally got off his shebs and caught up with us,” Wolffe snorted. 

That statement had been correct.

As they got closer to the entrance of the cave, troopers in orange appeared among the ranks of men in gray. They waved men forward and yelled directives, their fingers and hands arching through the air in military signals. If Din had stopped to read them, he probably would have understood more of what was going on, but he didn’t. 

Instead, he carried the commander out of the cave and followed Soren to a ledge nearby. Wounded soldiers knelt on the ground or sat resting against each other. One man had a fractured leg, that he held precariously as he leaned back against the cliff face. Another had dried blood across his face, his helmet resting in his lap, but he smiled and laughed whenever someone talked to him. Most of the men had scratches along the sides of their armor and cuts across their blacks, mixing with blood and dirt. Just like Comet. 

Wolffe huffed at the men, and Din suddenly realized how horrible he looked compared to them. 

His skin had become sickly pale and the wounds dug into his shoulders, tearing at the sides of his neck and his arms. That didn’t even count in the factor of the bruises and aches he must be feeling, after falling through the ground and slamming into a cave. Not once, but twice. 

Mental rested a hand on Wolffe’s underarm, holding him up as he staggered. 

“Wolffe!” A voice dragged both of their gazes up the mountain. 

The three men looked up to the orange-and-white trooper above them. The visored helmet tilted forward and shoulders slumped, relief covering the armored body as the man leaned closer. 

“I thought you died, jagcy!” Cody shouted. 

Wolffe smirked up at him, grimacing at the light. “I’m not that easy to kill, osi’kovid! ”

Then Din’s heart stopped. 

Luke appeared at the commander’s side, his hair framed by the golden rays of the sun and his shoulders bridging the gaps of the mountain. The dark cloak he had worn before was gone, instead, his black robes and belts clung to his muscles and his boots climbed up his legs. His blue eyes shined as he spotted them, their eyes meeting through the visor of Din’s helmet, and grew a smile across the man’s face. 

“Mando!” Luke shouted, then jumped down off the cliff face.

The wind swirled around him as he landed, his feet touching lightly on the ground before carrying him forward. The scene felt like it had been right out of the forests of Yavin, where his husband would fly through the brush and cling to the trees. Flipping and arching his way through the adventure, with their son clinging to his back with loud squeals and shrieks. 

Din wanted to kiss him, to hold him in his arms, and never let him go.

“Luke,” Din said as he eased Wolffe into a kneeling position. 

His husband turned to Wolffe, his eyes looking over the shine of his wounds and the patches of medical bandages, “Is the bacta not working?” 

“It would do its job faster if he was able to rest,” Mental said. 

Wolffe snorted, “Rest is for the weak.” 

“Not always.” Luke kneeled down in front of the commander and peered closer at the wounds that were poking out. “Do you mind if I try something?” 

“Do whatever Jedi banthashit you want,” Wolffe grunted. 

Luke nodded before reaching his hand out and hovering it over Wolffe’s wound, then his eyes slid shut and his body froze. 

Meditation was a key part of being a Jedi, according to Luke. 

He had explained long ago, while he had fixed Din’s N1-Starfighter. His hands had fluttered over the wires, his voice explaining that meditation nurtured one’s connection to the Force and strengthened their bond to the fullness of their abilities. When he had pushed the metal siding back on, he had laughed about medication letting him understand his emotions on a deeper level, while connecting him to everything. Then when he had tested the ignition, he had told Din it was like fuel for a spark or ember. 

One of the things that meditation had taught Luke was how to heal, though it had taken months and months of practice. 

The wounds along Wolffe’s neck slowly stitched themselves back together. Pale lines faded away into the tan skin surrounding them and bruising marks drew back before disappearing. Flickers of fresh blood died and dried out across his skin, but their origins vanished in moments. 

When it was over, Luke pulled his hand away and stood back up. His body swayed for a moment and Din caught his shoulder with one hand before he took a deep breath and nodded his head. 

“I’m fine,” Luke said, “Didn’t go overboard, I just stood up too fast.” 

“We’ll see,” Din replied. 

Woffle let out a string of curses in Mando’a as he tried to look at his shoulders. Mental kneeled beside him, pulling at the layers of his armor to look as well. 

“You must be the Jedi that I’ve heard about.” General Koon’s voice interrupted them, pulling their attention back to the men surrounding them. “It was impressive that you were able to heal such an injury.” 

A twitch ran through Luke’s shoulder and up Din’s arm. 

“You must be General Koon,” Luke said. 

“Indeed, I am.” General Koon nodded to him. “The Mandalorian has told me of your situation. I think that he has an understanding of what he needs to tell you.” 

Luke turned to Din, one of his eyebrows raising and lips twitching. 

“We haven’t traveled in time, but rather to a parallel universe.” Din squeezed his husband’s shoulder, catching the small twitch in his jaw and the blink of his eyes. But then a sag filled the man’s body and his eyes lowered toward the group, a sigh filling his voice as he spoke. 

“How do we get back?” Luke asked. 

“The Force wanted us here for a reason,” Din replied. 

No surprise filled Luke’s face, only a resignation that drew his eyes shut and his mouth into a tight line. The weight of it fell upon his husband’s shoulders, making him look nearly a decade older as his arms crossed and his eyebrows furrowed. 

Din wanted to wipe away the stress, the worry, and the hurt from his husband’s expression more than anything else. 

“The Force wants us to change something,” Luke finally said. 

“Yes.” 

Luke rubbed the side of his forehead and frowned. “Well, now we have to figure out what the Force wants us to change.” 

“You already know,” Din replied. 

“It won’t be easy,” Luke said as he looked back at him, “We shouldn’t change too much or we could make things worse.” 

“Well that’s all very cryptic,” Wolffe snorted, “What does the Force want you to change?”

The brows on his husband’s face furrowed as he looked away, causing a flare of worry to grow in Din’s chest. A heaviness fell upon Luke’s shoulders as he gazed over the group around them and a hollowness took over his eyes, one that only made appearances late into the night after waking from intangible horrors. 

“The end of this war,” Luke said. 

---

The collection of trenches, created with tents and stairs, took Din a moment to figure out. Their group stood outside of it, letting other soldiers flow around them and into the makeshift camp area. His gaze followed them as they entered, disappearing below ground with their helmet poking up along the top every so often. 

Silence clung to the group as they stood together, forcing Din back into the moment. He let his eyes fall onto each of the men around him. The two Jedi Generals were passive as always, they stood on opposite sides of the group. The men would walk around them, effectively creating a bubble in which they could all stand. Cody and Wolffe stood next to each other, the healed trooper leaning into his vod ’s side hug with a roll of his eyes. Five other clones stood close by, but Din only recognized one of them at first; Comet had his head tilted back, his visor staring up at the sky. Then he saw Waxer and Boil standing at each other’s shoulders, leaning against the other as they stood next to their general. The other two were Sinker and Boost, according to Luke, one of which held a massive missile launcher. 

The weight of their words had carried them over the mountain, forcing them into a silence that had kept growing as they marched. The tension lay across their shoulders and thickened the atmosphere around them. Queziness settled in Din’s stomach and his chest ached at whatever conversation awaited them now, the explanation that would need to rise and the feelings that would be born from it.

It wasn’t a surprise that Luke’s words left a heavy mark on the men. The fate of the wars was everything that they were fighting for already. 

When he was a child, the Mandalorian that had saved him had held him every night. He would let him cling to his armor and cry, screaming and wishing for the Separatists to fall apart like the machines they were. Tears fell for the parents he lost, the life that had been taken from his hands, while his screams ripped into beliefs and rage that had emerged from the darkness. 

It took years to wipe those feelings and ideas away, to accept the world had changed more than he could ever believe. 

He couldn’t imagine what it felt like having your values and purpose ripped away from you, rather than slowly washed away in the sands of time. 

“We lost?” Wolffe asked, the first one to speak as his eyes turned toward Din and Luke. 

Gazes fell upon them as the question lingered in the air. The clones at Wolffe’s side tensed, shoulders rising toward their ears and fingers curling into fists as their helmets snapped forward. The two Jedi adjusted their stances and stepped closer to the group, their heads tilting toward the men wearily. 

“It’s more complicated than that,” Din said. 

Luke nodded in agreement. “Neither the Republic nor the Separatists truly won this war.” 

What had happened was fuzzy to Din, though he knew that Luke’s words were true. His people had been on the move, had been bouncing between places and falling into hiding, and information had been scarce. Din remembered learning the war had ended months after the fact, when he had stumbled upon older Mandalorians speaking of it under hushed breath. 

“The war ended when the Separatists collapsed,” Luke recited from memory, who had been taught what had happened unlike Din, “But the Galactic Republic dissolved in the days after due to instability and reformed into the First Galactic Empire.” 

A confused look rolled over Wolffe’s face at the words, mirrored by the changing stances of the clones around him. 

Din had spent the majority of his life learning to read body language over facial expressions. A slamming hand and a roll of the shoulders told him much more about a person than a raised eyebrow or a smirk. He had figured out the personalities of the people around him as he grew, knowing that many Mandalorians were quiet and protective, whereas others exploded with anger. 

He could tell those things by looking at the clones too, by seeing the way they moved in their armor. He saw the way they looked at each other after Luke’s words, the raising of their shoulders, and the subtle shifting of their feet. 

Sinker switched the missile launcher to the other hand. Boil raised a hand to the back of his helmet, his visor twisting to meet Waxer’s as the man shrugged. 

“That doesn’t sound too bad…?” Waxer said, but his voice heightened as he spoke and his helmet tilted. 

“It was.” Din crossed his arms. 

His husband nodded at his side, glancing his way before speaking again, “Mando is right, it was bad.” 

“How so?” Cody asked. “What do we need to be prepared for?” 

“If we can change the outcome of this war, you might not have to worry,” Din replied. 

“But if you aren’t able to?” Wolffe looked at him, raising an eyebrow.

Luke turned to him and crossed his arms. A frown pulled at his lips as he nodded to him, his eyes flashing in the light as a look came over them. 

You have more to say about this, Luke’s eyes said to him. 

Din could argue against that, but he didn’t. 

Instead, he nodded back to his husband and turned back to the group, raising his helmet and switching to a higher voice. 

“The Empire used oppression and genocide to keep its people submissive, they claimed it was to keep the peace.” Din saw the planes of desert across Mandalore and the asteroid field of Alderaan. “They destroyed numerous civilizations and planets, murdering innocent people.” 

Waxer shook his head, stepping forward. “The Jedi wouldn’t have let that happen.” 

“Who do you think was their first target?” Luke asked. 

The trooper took a step back, helmet rearing backward as a choked sound flew out. Before he could stumble back, Boil caught him by his shoulder. The two stood together for a moment, before their helmets began twisting toward Luke and then twisting back toward General Kenobi. 

The Jedi Master’s skin had turned ashen and his mouth had fallen open, his eyes rising and gazing shifting out into the horizon. A haunted look took over the man’s features, replacing the usual smirks and daring eyes. It was as if Luke’s words had transported him hundreds of light years away. 

“Obi-Wan?” Cody asked. 

The commander reached forward and rested a hand on the man’s shoulder, squeezing gently until the man began to blink and he turned. 

“He isn’t lying,” General Kenobi said, “I can sense he isn’t lying.” 

“But how…?” Cody asked. “What happened?” 

Kenobi’s gaze fell away from Cody’s and turned toward Luke, his foot rooted in place and he leaned forward. 

“I don’t know much about what happened to the Jedi, my masters never spoke of the intrinsic details and the Empire controlled the narrative of the day they were massacred,” Luke explained and clasped his hands, a small look overcoming his face as he spoke, “But I know that the Jedi were betrayed at the end of the war, only a few survived and they were hunted by the Empire for the rest of their days.” 

Kenobi stepped away from his spot, his feet striding across the group before he stood in front of Luke. Hand hand fell onto Luke’s shoulder as the man looked down at him. Something quivered behind the man’s eyes, as horror rose in his voice and he asked, “How old were you?” 

Luke shook his head, meeting the man’s eyes. “I was born around the same time it happened.” 

“How is that even possible?” Wolffe demanded from behind Kenobi, still standing next to Cody. “The clones would have never let something like that happen to their generals and commanders.” 

Din felt the pit in his stomach widen as his blood ran cold. He turned his head to the man beside him, watching the wilt within his eyes and the gears that turned behind them. The blond reached up and slowly removed Kenobi’s hand from his shoulder, but nodded his head and smiled. 

The older man’s brows furrowed for a moment, and Din felt a wave of nostalgia overflow through his veins. 

A silent conversation, held completely through the Force between two Jedi, between two Force-Sensitives. The same way that Luke and Leia would look at each other, would fall into sync, and speak from solar systems apart. 

Then Kenobi stepped back, letting Luke look toward the group. His eyes jumped over each of the members, his hair catching the light and blowing in the wind. Then he turned to Din and he took a deep breath, his fear pressed to the surface of his face before vanishing. 

His husband didn’t know what to say. He didn’t know how to tell them the truth, because not even he knew the whole truth. 

Din nodded to him, before looking at the group of men around them. He looked to each of the clones, to the paint upon the armor and the visors of their helmets.  

“It has something to do with the clones,” Din said with a lowered voice, unsteady and shaking, “I remember hearing my elders say such things, but I’m not sure how.” 

“The clones I’ve met don’t talk about it, and no one presses,” Luke added as his head tilted down again, his eyes refusing to meet the gazes of any of them, “Everyone knows that something bad happened and that they aren’t going to talk about it unless they have to.” 

“That can’t be possible.” Wolffe stepped forward, only to be caught by Cody’s hand and dragged back. 

Cody looked to his vod, and then back toward them. “I have to agree with Wolffe. We clones are loyal to the Jedi, we’ve fought beside them for countless battles.” 

“I believe you,” Din said, “But we don’t know what really happened, we only know the aftermath and rumors.” 

“The official story from the Empire is that the Jedi attacked a person within the senate and as a result, they had committed treason,” Luke explained, “A lot of other planets and civilizations fell to similar fates.” 

“I shouldn’t say this, but I feel that it is important,” Kenobi began before taking a breath and looking at the other Jedi. 

Koon met the General’s gaze for a moment, before he nodded and waved a hand for him to speak. 

Kenobi nodded and then looked across the group. “The Jedi Council believes that a Sith Lord has been pulling strings behind the scenes of this war, that it is most likely that they are a member of the Senate.” 

Din glanced over at Luke, watching as a pained expression pulled over his face. His lips pressed tightly together and his eyes slid close as he took a deep breath. 

Palpatine had left more than just scars on his husband. 

“They are,” Luke said as he opened his eyes. 

“Who are they?” 

Luke furrowed his brows and then glanced toward the sky, his nose scrunching as he admitted, “I don’t think I should say.” 

A ripple of movement shot through the troopers, several stepping forward or grabbing onto the man next to them. Din caught Cody’s grip tightening over Wolffe’s pauldron and vambrace, pulling him back in place as his helmet’s visor stared down upon Luke. 

“Why not?” Cody asked. 

Luke shook his head. “It’s not a good idea.” 

Comet pointed at him, a growl in his tone. “If there is a Sith in the senate, we need to know who it is! They’re a danger to everyone!” 

“I know that,” Luke said. 

The trooper barreled forward. “Do you? We need to take them down!” 

Din moved forward before the man could get closer to Luke and pressed a hand against the man’s armor, shoving hard to stop him from moving forward. His voice lowered as he snapped at the man, “I don’t understand politics most of the time, but even I know going after a politician with no evidence is insane.” 

“I need to think before I reveal anything,” Luke added as he leaned forward and gestured around them, “If things go astray, then the Jedi Order will fall again. I know the Sith Lord is intelligent enough to have several contingency plans set up if the Jedi figure out his identity.”

“Luke is right.” Koon stepped forward and placed a hand upon Comet’s shoulder. “He needs to be careful, or he will do more harm than good.”

Comet glanced back at the Jedi Master, his shoulders relaxing back and a sigh falling from his helmet. He stepped back, away from Din’s hand and crossed his arms. 

It was then that Kenobi stepped forward, standing at Luke’s side again and nodding toward him. 

“I agree,” he said, “This situation requires patience and these two will need our support to resolve it.”

Din looked toward the two Jedi, feeling his shoulders slump and the muscles of his body relax. “Thank you.” 

“Keep us in the loop, as much as you can,” Kenobi said, “Do you know where you need to start?”

Luke turned to him. “Coruscant.”

“The 212th have shore leave after this mission.” Kenobi nodded, his gaze turning to the orange commander next to him. “The faster we finish here, the faster we can return.” 

Cody nodded. “I’ll round up the men.” 

“Perfect, thank you.” 

The group dissipated as Cody kicked into his gear. Boil and Waxer jumped away as he ordered them to start rounding up the men, both of their helmets tilting toward each other for a moment before nodding to the Commander. As the two troopers darted off, Cody turned to General Kenobi. 

“And you’re going to the medic,” Cody said. 

Kenobi’s head snapped toward him. “Right now? But we need to oversee the men.”

“Right now.” Cody’s hand snapped out faster than a blaster bolt and snatched the General’s arm. Before the red-haired man could argue, the commander dragged him away toward the trench tents. 

“That’s familiar,” Luke laughed as he turned toward Din, “Want to find someplace to sit while we wait?” 

“Wait, Mando, before you go,” Wolffe called and stepped closer to him, parting his own way through the sea of leaving people. “Care to meet some of the other vod? ” 

Din observed as the man stepped closer and tilted his head. “Who?” 

“These two.” Wolffe motioned to clones, Sinker and Boost, closer. “Mando, this is Sinker and Boost. Vode, this our new ori’vod, Mando.” 

“No, I am Din.” The words left his mouth before he could stop to think about them, but he found that they slid off his tongue with ease and tasted like honey. Several heads swung toward him, eyes widening and mouths dropping, helmet jutting forward and gasps entering the air. 

He looked around, before sighing and explaining, “We are aliit now, we are clan, you may know my name.” 

A nudge at his side caught his attention and he turned to look at his husband, looking at the grin that lay across his face and the sparkles that glowed in his eyes. Luke nodded to him and chuckled, before looking back to Wolffe. 

“Din,” Wolffe said, before turning to Boost. “He made sure to take care of your shiny.” 

“Attention?” Boost asked. 

“Yes?” Attention appeared at the man’s side and Din had the sudden feeling the man had been waiting at the edges of the group. “What is it?” 

Boost snorted at him and tapped his shoulder. “You’ve definitely earned your paint after this, Tenie.” 

A wide-eyed look passed over Attention as he turned to Din, asking, “Would it be okay with you if I painted my armor to remind me of you?” 

When Din looked at the man whom his brothers called a shiny, he saw the wide-eyed foundlings hiding in the sewers. He saw them trying on flimsy helmets made of spare parts and running after each other. He saw the rising fists of toddlers and infants held in the arms of their buire, surrounded by cave walls and daunting skies. He saw the new school in Mandalore where teenagers clambered over each other and laughed so loud that their voices could be heard from streets away. He saw the growing university in Sundari, beginning to build and grow, with its future students working bricks and structures into place. 

Din nodded his head to the young clone trooper, to the man that encompassed the spirit of future generations. 

“My signet is my clan.” He motioned to his pauldron.

Attention nodded, but his voice lowered as he asked, “So your signet?” 

“I would be honored if you painted the mudhorn signet on your armor.” 

“Then I will,” Tenie said with a growing smile and prideful tilt.

“How does someone get their signet?” Boost asked. His hand waved over his side of the armor, to the growling snouts of wolves that adorned it.  “We’ve always had these, whenever you join the 104th and paint your armor.” 

Din looked over the snarling wolves, before glancing to his Mudhorn signet. “Signets are for aliit. You are either born into it, adopted into it, or you earn your own when you start your own family.” 

Sinker asked, his arms folding. “What about yours?” 

“Earned.” Din looked over at him. “With my son.”

---

Din had been inside of worse tents. 

The four bedrolls across the ground and the single light hung up in the center brought him back to the days he lived in a sewer. At least he had gotten to leave that place when he was hunting when he was providing for his Tribe. Being confined to the singular cot on the Razor Crest had been better than the dingy and questionable ‘rooms’ on Nevarro. 

Even this was better than Nevarro.

His husband didn’t seem to mind the tent much either, as he walked inside and stretched his arms. His back cracked loudly, in a way that made Din jealous, and he imagined Luke cracking his own back for a moment. 

“Maybe I can do that for you later.” Luke looked over his shoulder at him and winked. 

Din felt his heart miss a beat, imagining the Force Bond between them that Luke could feel at all times. 

“Reading my thoughts again?” He asked.

“Only because they’re so loud,” Luke chuckled, but his smile didn’t meet his eyes. 

His husband turned and sat down on one of the bedrolls, his legs falling into a cross and his hands landing in his lap. The smile on his face faded away as he took a deep breath, his shoulders rising.

Din felt his heart begin to ache. 

“You’re upset.” Din sat down next to his husband and rested his shoulder against his. “About what?” 

Luke stared down at the floor. “It’s nothing.” 

“We’ve talked about this.” Din prodded his shoulder.

A grunt left his husband’s mouth before the man turned to look up at him, his eyes a shimmering blue as they looked past him. “Fine, but it’s not just one thing.” 

“I’m here, what’s wrong?” 

“It’s a little bit of everything.” Luke ran a hand through his hair and leaned onto his knees, furrowing his brows. “I’m here with real Jedi and I can’t help but compare myself. These are just insecurities, and I know that I shouldn’t compare, but both Kenobi and Koon are unflappable and confident. Their Force Signatures are powerful and I can tell that they're great Jedi.” 

The words hit against Din’s chest as he moved his arm around his husband and pulled him closer, his hand rising up to rub his shoulder. The thoughts pulled at his heartstrings for a moment as he looked down at his husband and felt the way the man leaned into him. 

Din had always thought of Luke as a Jedi, as the Jedi. 

He let that thought well in his mind and he focused on it, imagining it like a picture that he could show to anyone that asked. His husband shifted against him and chuckled. One of his arms darted out to wrap around him and squeezed. 

“You’re a real Jedi too, Luke,” Din said, “But you are a different kind of Jedi to them.” 

His husband snored. “Is that supposed to make me feel better?” 

Din bonked his forehead against Luke’s, chuckling as the man protested and glared at him.

“ Di’kutla jet’ika. ” Din rested their foreheads together.  “Were you not the one to teach me that there are multiple ways to be a Mandalorian? Why would there not be multiple ways to be a Jedi?” 

The Jedi grumbled, but relaxed into the Keldabe Kiss. A small smile appeared on his face as his breath began to fog up the visor. Then his blue eyes slid shut, replacing the frustration with a serene look. 

Warmth flooded Din’s chest as he looked down at the man and he felt a deep part of himself melt all over again. Love poured from his bones and into his veins, circling around him as nestled his helmet even closer. The feeling nearly overwhelmed, nearly took his breath away, as he thought how lucky he was that this man was in his life. 

That the Jedi he had been looking for ended up being his husband, his other half, and the closest person to himself. 

Not to mention how handsome he was, how stunning it was to watch him fight or to stare at him free of the visor between them. 

His husband’s eyes slid open again and he pulled away, straightening as he sat up.

While Din missed the contact, he hung onto the way his husband looked at him and the glimmer in his eyes. 

“You’re right,” Luke said, “I really need to take my own advice.” 

“Is there anything else that you’re upset about?” Din asked.

Luke laughed, “Palpatine, but that’s self-explanatory.” 

“Yes, it is,” Din chuckled and nudged him, “I’ll be by your side for this, I’m not leaving.” 

“I know.” His husband smiled for a moment, before leaning forward and resting their foreheads together. “Since I shared with the class, it’s your turn.” 

A groan ripped out of his throat before he could catch it and he broke the Keldabe Kiss himself, leaning backwards from his husband. Despite the exasperation that filled him, a fond sense of care and wonder grew in his chest as he looked toward his husband again. 

“You aren’t trying to get out of talking, are you?” Din asked.

Luke shook his head. “No, I’ve said my piece.” 

“And now you want me to say mine?” 

His husband gave him a look. “I can feel the weariness coming off you, from the moment you stepped out of that cave.” 

“Oh.” 

“We talked about this.” His husband mimicked and then gave him a small nudge, a tender look overcoming his face and his head leaning closer to him.

“Being in that cave,” Din said, “it made me realize how easily I could lose you, or Grogu.” 

He pulled his husband close to himself and hovered his helmet over his forehead. A surge of comfort fell over him as Luke pressed forward and wrapped an arm around his neck, slotting into place against his side and twisting to press against his chest.

“Go on,” Luke whispered. 

As Luke held the back of his neck, pushing their foreheads together again, Din explained, “I feel like I’ve gone too far, I was beroya for my tribe, only ever wanting an aliit for myself but nothing more. When the Darksaber came to me, I began to want for more, I wanted a home for my people, not just the Tribe but all Mandalorians. I have that now, but I’ve lost sight of my original desires and it is creating aches within me.”

“But you do have a family.” 

“Yes, but I rarely see you or Grogu.” Din tried to feel Luke’s breath through his helmet, trying to feel the ghost of skin on skin. “I’m always working as Mand’alor, with very little time to nurture my connection to you.” 

Silence filled the space between them as Luke closed his eyes and hummed, his brows furrowing and his lips drawing into a lineful pout. Then his blue eyes appeared and gazed into Din’s soul. 

“This will be a burden we both carry and we will figure out a solution together,” Luke said.

Din felt his heart flutter, his mind sinking. “How?” 

Luke hummed and said, “Leia said she had to find a work-life balance that made her happy, so we’ll try to do the same for you.” 

“When we get home,” Din compromised. 

Luke smiled and pulled away, cupping the edge of his helmet. “When we get home.”

Chapter Text

Coruscant sat at the core of the galaxy, nearly a week’s worth of time away. Even as the Negotiator jumped into hyperspace, a shiver ran up Cody’s spine at the long hours ahead of him in the iron-gray corridors and the swarm of brothers that would mingle around corners. Endless amounts of work fell toward him, mountains of flimsi work and data pads on top of corralling thousands of restless vode aboard a ship that was too small for them. 

He could see everything from the bridge of the Negotiator: the way the Star Destroyer turned through space and the doors of the hangars slid shut. Numerous of his vode worked across the mainframes of the deck, the grays of their uniforms nearly blending into the colors that surrounded them, if it weren’t for the flashing lights that they attended to. But everything paled in comparison to the man standing at his side, arms crossed over his chest as his blue eyes stared into the abyss beyond the deck’s windows. 

General Kenobi… no, Obi-Wan, stood and brushed his shoulder against his as the world beyond the windows shifted. 

Together, they watched the planet of Arduj disappear against the pattern of racing stars, leaving Wolffe and the 104th behind. 

But even that couldn’t stop his batchmate from bothering him. 

His commlink lit up and connected to his HUD, displaying the words from the incoming message immediately. It ripped a sigh from his chest as he looked it over, already feeling the pull at his lips and the stress building in his forehead. 

17’s Bastards + Rex

Dog tales : Get Mando a comlink

Droid kicker: Why

Dog tales: He is the wolfpack’s new ori’vod

Dog tales: Plo adopted him

Droid kicker: Doesn’t he already have one

Dog tales: It doesn’t work here di’kut

Droid kicker: I’ll see what I can do

Puddle: Who is this Mando?

Dog tales: New ori’vod , weren’t you listening

Puddle: Don’t dodge the question.

Puddle: You adopted an ori’vod without me 

Thrown again: With Cody apparently???

Puddle: Yeah with CODY.

Droid kicker: He’s a Mandalorian that the 212th picked up with a Jedi, we’re helping them out

Thrown again: When did that happen??? 

Droid kicker: Literally the day I left you on Delta-Evin

Puddle: You left the vod’ika?

Simbly: for shame

Droid kicker: He was fine.

Thrown again: I was not, Skywalker built a bomb again and gave it to Fives

Thrown again: i would have been fine if it was hardcase, cause I’m used to that

Thrown again: but he gave it to Fives

Dog tales: Oof that’s rough

Dog tales: Code’s new Jedi gave Sinker a missile launcher

Droid kicker: Don’t get me started 

Droid kicker: At least he didn’t give it to wooley or crys

Dog tales: Yeah he gave it to one of MY idiots

Thrown again : at least we’re all on the same page

Simbly : anyways, anyone heard from Fox? He was supposed to send a bacta shipment rotations ago but he never did 

Dog tales : heard from him right before Arduj went to banthashit, he was pissy with me and hung up one me. Nothing since.

Droid kicker: I’ll see if I can meet him on triple zero and get back to you

Thrown again: I’ll see you there, ori’vod, Skywalker’s fast tracking us

Droid kicker: oh ka’ra 

Simbly : thanks

Simbly: Sent an image

Simbly : imma pet this weird thing, ttyl

Simbly : Good luck with the new jedi 

Simbly: hope Sinker shoots you Wolffie

Dog tales: hope you get eaten

Thrown again: I hate this family

Tugs of gratefulness flooded through Cody as his eyes danced over the conversation, hooking onto each word and personality that shone through. He was grateful that he and Wolffe had decided to not tell their vode yet. To let them live in the illusion that the Republic was fine, that it would grow stronger once the war ended, and would be peaceful. 

There was still hope between them that it was possible if Luke and Mando were able to do what they were sent here to do. 

But until then, no one else needed to know. 

Cody could keep them safe from the future that bore down upon them. 

It was the least he could do when he wasn’t there to protect them while they fought star systems away with their own Jedi Generals and shinies to worry about. 

That thought kicked his stomach and forced it to drop, pulling the memory of Wolffe’s bloodied and armored body leaning against the Mandalorian. The way that his brother’s head swayed to the sides and the paleness of his skin wracked through his mind, tearing into his breath. Even the way that his brother had swung his head up to look at him, forcing his smirk onto his face, through the weakness that he felt, had killed him. 

He hadn’t been able to save his vod’ika, but the two time-travelers had. 

It left an open wound in his heart, but an aching of gratefulness in his bones. 

But before he could think more about the thought, Obi-Wan shifted beside him and turned toward the far end of the bridge. His hands found the edges of his hips as he looked toward the bridge doors, a sigh rolling out of him as his shoulders deflated. 

A shot of worry struck Cody as he looked at his General. It joined the overwhelming urges that had filled his chest from the moment they had reunited and circled around his ribs. It pushed him to turn on his feet and take a step closer to Obi-Wan, inclining his head toward the Jedi and imagining his concern as a palpable presence that the man could feel.

“Are you alright, Obi-Wan?” Cody lowered his voice to a whisper. 

The Jedi General turned to him and dropped his hands, bringing them to cross at his chest. The lines of his face deepened as his eyes flickered around the bridge, darting to all the men and then finally landing back on Cody. There was a twitch below his eye, but nothing else poured out in the man’s expression. 

“I think it’s best if we talk privately,” Obi-Wan whispered back to him, “Meet me in my quarters.”

“Give me fifteen minutes, I need to deal with Waxer and Boil first.” Cody nodded to him.

“By all means,” Obi-Wan replied. 

Then the man stepped away from him and walked toward the bridge doors, his feet carrying him with speed and his shoulders gliding through the air. 

Even as the man left, Cody knew that the future worried Obi-Wan. 

Every thought that he had from the hours before rushed forward again as he turned back to the bridge. They curdled over the side of his mind and invaded every space, leaving marks of fear and decaying hopes. Even in their wake, Cody couldn’t get his thoughts together long enough to really place what parts of it hurt the most, what parts of it his mind screams to change first, and what his body demands for him to do. 

He wanted to keep that future from ever happening, he wanted to squish it to pieces before it got the chance, but he didn’t know how. 

The only people who had a clue aren’t giving up any more information. 

The things they said were unbelievable, but Cody trusted that they wouldn’t lie about it and Obi-Wan had confirmed as much. 

The Jedi were gone in the future, left to a handful that barely brushed past each other. 

The clones had something to do with it, but Cody found that hard to believe. Especially when he looked to his General and felt his chest split open with the pain of that singular notion, when his heart beat for the very man that he worked alongside. His life was filled with war and violence, but the man was his saving grace in the darkness and destruction. 

How could he hurt Obi-Wan? How could he not protect the man that he loved?

The thought dug a pit into his ribs and he forced his chest to breathe, before he brought his comm up and spoke into it. 

“Waxer, Boil,” He said, “Debriefing in two minutes.” 

His commlink came to life and the hours of work took over his mind, replacing any of the doubt and worries that held place there. 

“Sir, yes, sir!”

---

Obi-Wan’s quarters were the definition of clean and crisp, with the bed perfectly made and the desk organized to maximum proficiency. The first time that Cody had seen it, he had thought that an officer had been assigned to the room, that it was the wrong room, but the more he observed the more details from the Jedi he could pick out. 

Like a box, shoved under the desk with numerous things across all the planets they’d been to shoved inside. Stones placed on the shelf above the bed, stacked neatly and perfectly balanced. A tea set that poked out from a chest near the bedroom door, used and well cared for. A plant that was barely surviving at the far edge of the desk, wavering in and out of health. 

But when Cody stepped into the room after the briefing, it wasn’t those things that caught his eyes. It was the man inside who paced between the desk and bed, his fingers pressed against his chin and his elbow tucked carefully as his chest. Worry leaped off of his body, and sang through his language as he strided back and forth, barely looking up. A teacup balanced in his hand and sloshed a bleak colored tea with each of his movements, each turn and stride. 

The scene cracked a piece in his chest, watching Obi-Wan in such a state. 

He closed the door behind him and raised his hands, sliding the helmet off of his head. “Hello?” 

“Cody.” Obi-Wan turned to him, his blue eyes catching onto the sides of his face and the helmet falling to his side. 

“Obi-Wan.” 

A crack split and Obi-Wan turned to the single bed. The teacup shook as he set them down on the nightstand, and then his body turned and fell onto the bed. He sits with his elbows pressed into his knees, his hands pressing into the sides of his head as if something had violently rattled his brain. 

Cody supposed that was true, his own thoughts drifting back to the words that had fallen from the time-travelers. They crushed around his heart as Obi-Wan patted the spot next to him and Cody dragged himself over immediately. 

The bed hissed like deflated air as Cody sat next to his General, their knees pressing against each other and shoulders brushing. Warmth spread through him at the points of contact, his stomach searing with fire and fluttering. But he pushed the feelings down as the man pulled his hands away from his head and sat up, fingers twitching and brows falling into a steep slant. 

“I’ve been thinking about what Luke and Mando told us,” Obi-Wan whispered. 

“So have I,” Cody replied and tilted his head closer to the man. 

Obi-Wan looked up, meeting his gaze for a moment before he went on. 

“He said that he knew me, but he never mentioned anyone else,” the Jedi said, “He didn’t recognize Master Koon, he didn’t recognize you.” 

An ache filled Cody’s stomach at the words, feeling the gaping space between the two of them fall further apart. He couldn’t imagine a life without the man in front of him, whether they were friends, coworkers, or something else entirely. His heart ached as he remembered his potential faults to come, something that would break the relationship between them in a way that could never be repaired. 

He wasn’t with Obi-Wan in the future. 

Why should he still hope for one now?

He had no power, he couldn’t stop what was to come. 

When he didn’t reply, Obi-Wan powered on and continued to speak. 

“I thought that maybe he was Anakin’s padawan, that he took on another after Ahsoka,” he said, “But it makes just as much sense if he was mine.”

Anakin, Koon, you…

Three people that Luke never spoke about, three people that played into Obi-Wan’s life. 

“Obi-Wan, you are dancing around the problem.” Cody reached across them, laying a hand upon the man’s knee, and looked up at his eyes. 

A shattered look crossed the man’s face, his eyes shimmering and his lips pulling back. Obi-Wan whispered, “You’re right, because the truth is, that the future they described scares me.” 

Nothing scares a Jedi , Cody had been taught. 

It had only taken a few months in battle with his General to learn that wasn’t true, that these mythical figures were just as sentient and emotional as the rest of the world. There were cracks within their facades, within the ways that they held themselves and operated. Their belief systems held up values and ideas that were structured into the way that they lived, but emotions still fought against them. 

Patience, letting go, and servitude, weren’t easy to uphold with the torrent of emotions that came from war, that came from learning your future was in ruins. 

Those cracks forged their way across Obi-Wan’s figure as he turned. The light caught on the sides of his face and illuminated his beard, his freckles, and the crinkles of his eyes. But the light also the strands of gray peaking forth and the lines drawing downward on his face from a life spent in stress. 

The beautiful and the sacred rested upon the man’s face, and even with the disasters raging within, Cody thought that he was the most handsome man he had ever seen. 

With a deep breath, Cody closed his eyes and tempted himself with something that he had promised that he would never do. 

The walls around his mind were a thrashing sea, like the one on Kamino. Filled with dangers and endless views, it felt impossible to pass the mass of water. It became the perfect barrier between his mind and the outer world. 

But slowly he imagined the waters calming and drizzling. Moisture filled the air as it began to dry, as the sea lowered and lowered. It drained completely, and nothing stood between Cody’s mind and the world beyond. 

When he opened his eyes again, the Jedi was staring at him. His jaw weakened into a shocked stance while his eyebrows raised, the light catching onto the tears in his eyes. 

“Cody,” Obi-Wan’s voice wavered as his head dipped and his hands curled around Cody’s. Warmth spread through the tips of his fingers as the calluses on Obi-Wan’s palms pressed against his own. 

Then the man’s head dipped further forward, hovering only inches away from him, with a hitch in his breath and waver in his brows. 

“Obi-Wan.” Cody squeezed the man’s hands. 

Any resolved the red-headed had crumbled to dust and the man slumped forward, their foreheads pressed together. A sob-like gasp escaped from Cody’s lips as his eyes flung closed and his body slumped back into the touch. 

The Keldabe Kiss burst across Cody’s heart, stopping it before pushing it to the beating max. He felt his breath turn ragged as he fought with the emotions swirling around him. Questions flew onto his tongue, fears and hopes sprouted across his chest, and his stomach flipped to pour warmth across his body. 

Obi-Wan’s hands squeezed his own and dragged him out of his fate, not letting him drown his own mind. 

Cody opened his eyes and met Obi-Wan’s eyes again. The man raised his eyebrow, barely letting his brush across his forehead. 

His question hung in the air. 

“It tears my hopes apart, everything that they said.” Cody pulled Obi-Wan’s hands closer, tucking them into his chest. “I feel like I can’t do anything about it, that I can only trust them, and it kills me.” 

“Patience, we can only wait.” Obi-Wan flipped their hands, running his fingers along Cody’s worn palms. Sparks of warmth and electricity shot through his hand as he watched the pale fingers travel across the lines and trail over his calluses. “The council will need to hear about this.” 

He broke away from the Keldabe Kiss as his thoughts turned to the council. 

…doesn’t mean I don’t have criticism of the Order or have ideas on how things should be changed.

The words reverberated around his head, echoing through his ears as he turned away from Obi-Wan and looked at the floor. Dusty prints from his boots pulled at his attention as he thought. They fit perfectly to his feet as he had turned to sit, spreading further into his room. 

His thoughts buzzed. 

“I trust Luke and Mando,” Cody said when he looked back up, “Whatever they decide to do, I think we should help them with it.” 

Obi-Wan nodded before a frown appeared across his face and he turned to the wall as if his thoughts could be displayed across it. “They don’t have a plan.” 

“It seems like they improvise more than anything,” Cody agreed, “But unlike some people we know that do that, they are trying to think this through first.” 

A laugh broke from Obi-Wan’s throat, joined by a smile that flickered before it faded into another grimace. 

“I need to make a choice,” Obi-Wan said, “To tell the council or not.” 

His frown pulled further at his cheeks as he looked up and stared into Cody’s face.

But Cody didn’t have an answer for him, he didn’t know if this was something he would want the council to know or not. “You’ll figure it out.” 

Obi-Wan scowled before a sarcastic smile strained at the sides of his mouth. “I always do.” 

A knock filled the room and Obi-Wan pulled away, space appearing around him as he sat up straighter and glared at the door. 

“Yes?” Obi-Wan asked. “Come in.” 

The door slid open a second later and Cody felt a surge of annoyance run through his veins. 

Crys had a habit of interrupting, though for good reason. Oftentimes, it was a problem that would take hours to solve or it was something that Cody had never expected, something that was going to cause an ache in his forehead and a tension in his shoulders. He always ended up trying not to throttle his vod’ike in those situations. 

It was a wonder how Rex was able to deal with his own men, who were undoubtedly worse. 

“Sorry to interrupt your meeting,” Crys said, “But I need your abilities, Commander.”

“What for?” Cody asked. 

“Mando and Luke are using the training room, but it’s gathering an audience.” The trooper scratched at the back of his head and smiled, tilting his head to make it crooked.

A headache began to form between Cody’s eyes. “An audience?” 

“Waxer and Boil want to start a betting ring, the word got out about it and now more vode are coming to see what’s going on.” 

Cody imagined throwing the two troopers into space.

“Is it getting out of hand?” He asked.

“Not yet, but with those two jokers…” 

“I understand, I’ll be there shortly,” Cody sighed. “You’re dismissed.” 

“Sir, yes, sir!” Crys saluted before stepping away, letting the door slam shut again.

---

Luke balanced on one hand in the center of the training room. His body swayed in the air and his muscles flexed to fix each movement, his feet pointing toward the ceiling and his free hand stretched out at his side. Sweat dripped down from his forehead, but the rest of his skin remained dry despite the strain that he was putting on it.

The scars that littered his shoulders and stretched up his arms left a bitter taste in Cody’s mouth. Images of Obi-Wan’s abdomen came to his mind, when the man had pressed his fingers over his scars to demonstrate what they look like, what Force Lightning does to your body. His wounds had been treated with bacta and enough healing sessions to make a man stir crazy. The scars faded into the small collection along his abdomen, white but barely noticeable. 

Luke’s were the opposite. 

They branched up his arms and disappeared into his wrists, they curled around his shoulders and etched toward his neck. They were white on his tanned skin, a stark contrast that made them impossible to miss. Undoubtedly more ran underneath the tanked shirt that he wore, spreading like cobwebs over his chest and torso. 

Only a Sith could have created such scars , Cody was struck with the thought. Maybe there’s more to why Luke doesn’t want to talk about the Sith Lord.

Each scar captured the attention of everyone in the room, pulling their gazes to him. Some of the men openly gaped at him and others turned to whisper to the person nearest to them, while some simply stared. 

With the exception of one man. 

Mando sat on one of the benches, his foot balanced on his knee as he used a polishing kit on a shin plate. His helmet was tilted downward toward his work, the visor glinting in the light as people moved past him. It glinted even more when he switched feet and repeated the motions of polishing armor on the other shin plate. 

It was as if he wasn’t paying attention at all, but Cody could tell otherwise. 

His helmet turned when someone spoke loudly and his visor was tilted just enough for him to look across the training room. It was possible that he was able to catalog every clone in the room, that he was keeping track of everything that was going on around him. 

Including the two shinies that were moving closer to Luke.

The polishing kit clicked shut as Mando stood up and stepped away from the bench. His feet moved silently over the ground. His silver armor screamed for the attention of everyone. The crowd of troopers parted for him as he moved. 

He reached Luke before the shinies and pushed one of his legs, teetering the man off balance. 

But the Jedi laughed and swept himself away with his other hand, regaining his balance and craning his head to look up at the Mandalorian. 

“Stop doing that!” Luke exclaimed. “You can call my name if you want my attention.” 

The Mandalorian huffed and crossed his arms, watching as Luke’s legs swung down and the man stood up again. 

Obi-Wan’s shoulder brushed against Cody’s at that moment and catapulted him away from his thoughts. He turned to the man beside him and tilted his head, raising an eyebrow. 

“I’m curious,” Obi-Wan said, “Want to go over there?” 

Cody glanced back at the two men talking, their heads bending toward each other as if the world was fading away from them. 

“I’m supposed to keep the men in order.” Cody frowned and glanced back at his General. 

“You can do that while over there,” Obi-Wan argued, “Besides, I wonder how much training the Mandalorian has with the Darksaber, and possibly how much training Luke received without the Jedi Order around.” 

The last comment made Cody’s tongue fall dry, and he could tell that it had made Obi-Wan’s dry too, as the man’s lips pulled back and his brows furrowed. 

He swept his gaze back to the two men and frowned, thinking back to what he had seen from them. Luke had been a whirlwind on the battlefield, rushing through and using tricks that Cody had never dreamed of. He had kept up with their movements and deflected blaster bolts from the troops. 

But fighting droids didn’t give a good picture of what Luke could be capable of on a larger scale, such as fighting Sith or other Force users. 

On the other hand, Cody hadn’t seen the Mandalorian fight yet. However, the man had to be Mand’alor for a reason.

“You make a good point,” Cody admitted. 

A smile bloomed on Obi-Wan’s face and he nodded, gesturing his hand to the side. “Lead the way, Cody.” 

The smirk on his face appeared before he could stop, but he let himself nod to the Jedi and turn toward the pair. He moved his way through the small crowds swaying around, blending into each other like small bodies of water. They parted before him as he made his way, a few of them smiling and others giving vague salutes. 

He caught sight of Waxer and Boil, just before they dodged out of sight behind some equipment. 

Whatever trouble they were getting into, he could deal with later. 

Instead, Cody let himself look back at Luke and Mando. He watched as the silver-armored man crossed his arms and heard the sigh that rolled from the man’s helmet. Luke shook his head in turn and bent his neck down, one of his hands coming up to pinch the bridge of his nose. A faint snarl appeared on his face as if someone had shone a light into his eyes. 

“You seem troubled,” Obi-Wan commented as they approached, loud enough to catch both their attention. 

Luke’s head snapped up and he turned to them, nodding. 

“Meditation isn’t working.” A frown pulled at his lips as his brows creased. “Active meditation isn’t working either.” 

“Sparring can be a better form of active meditation.” Obi-Wan crossed his arms. “Would you like to spar against me?”

Something spread over Luke’s face as he turned to the Jedi Master and tilted his head, shadowing his eyes and pulling at the sides of his mouth. Then he looked to the Mandalorian standing next to him and tension flooded out of his shoulders as he looked back. 

“I’m sure there are things you can teach me,” Luke replied. 

Obi-Wan smiled, his shoulders dipping and his head tilting forward. “I’m sure that there are things you can teach me as well.” 

Luke blinked before a smile spread across his face and he nodded. “I think we’ll need more space then.” 

Cody glanced around at the hordes of troopers and felt his shoulders sag. “I’ll deal with them.” 

“Thank you, dear.” Obi-Wan smiled at him.

As he turned away from them, he cast a quick calculation in his head and tallied the number of troopers. Slicers had taken up one of the corners, their elbows poking against each other as they leaned on the metal wall. A group of ARCs were huddled closer to each other, pushing at each other and laughing loudly. And then there were the shinies floating within the groups and struggling to find where they belonged just yet. 

However, there were two medics, eyeing the men around them and holding kits at their sides. 

Cody would have to thank his CMO in the future, for knowing just how stupid his men can be. 

Then he set his hands on his hips and took a deep breath. 

“Ke’sush!” He shouted. 

Boots slammed against the ground as men turned to him, salutes slapping plastoid as the men straightened their backs. A few of them shoved their helmets on their heads as they turned as if they could hide the looks on their faces. But Cody knew each of his men well, he knew who was failing to hide a smirk and who was refusing to meet his eyes. 

“I know more than half of you have duties that you’re supposed to be attending to,” Cody said as he looked over them, “Stop crowding the training room and get back to work!” 

Like fire spreading, several of his men dipped from their places and immediately headed for the training room doors. They trickled out while other men stood still, like pillars between a river of movement. 

Once the flood had diminished, Cody felt the tension in his shoulders start to fade away. 

“If the rest of you are all staying, get to the walls and start placing your bet with the ARF idiots now.” He stared at Boil and Waxer. “General Kenobi and Master Djarin are about to spar.” 

Mad scrambles appeared across the room and Cody turned back to his General and the two time-travelers. 

A small smile appeared on Luke’s face as he looked around at all the men, watching as they moved and spoke between each other. Then he turned to the Mandalorian beside him and smirked, tilting his head. 

Something about the look was familiar, but Cody couldn’t figure out what it was. 

Mando nodded to Luke, and huffed, “As long as you aren’t beating up me, I don’t care who wins.” 

Obi-Wan snorted, before turning to Luke. “Are you ready?” 

“Yes, Master,” Luke smirked even wider, taking a few steps back from the man. 

As the two men began to put space between them, Mando and Cody found themselves drawn to the line of the men at the wall. They emerged into the group and stood at each other’s sides, their shoulders nearly the same height. If the Mandalorian had been wearing the same armor as the men around him, it was likely that he would have been able to blend into their troops with little issue. 

Wolffe would love that idea. 

He would be surprised if his brother would plan to trick his shinies with it. 

But instead of focusing on that thought, he turned his attention back to his General and the future Jedi.

“Just to be safe,” Obi-Wan said, “We should switch our lightsabers to training mode.” 

Luke tilted his head as a wave of confusion fell over his face. “Mine doesn’t have a training mode.” 

“What?” Obi-Wan asked, his eyebrows raising, and then he shook his head with a faint smile. “Well, never mind then.” 

Two lightsabers hissed to life moments later and the two men began to circle each other, rising into their own positions. Luke leaned forward and held his saber with two hands, his eyes flickering before seemingly landing on Obi-Wan’s own hands, who held his saber higher and posed at his shoulder. 

Jeers and cheers were thrown up from the sides, troopers leaning forward to shout their encouragement and complaints. But the two Jedi didn’t pay any mind as they circled each other, taking in their opponent and waiting. 

Then they clashed in a spray of light and Cody cursed aloud. 

Luke swung fiercely, keeping his aim true and strong. Each of his attacks were paced and quick, gaining in momentum as he moved. There was the form that Anakin Skywalker used, eerily similar to this, but it looked like there was more speed and acrobatic movements added in. It wasn’t just about the power behind the wielder, it was something else. 

Obi-Wan fell into the defensive position with ease and darted across the floor. His body dodged and his feet flew over the floor, his saber blocked and parried with loud hisses and shooting light. 

Both men were smiling, darting around each other and slicing through the air. 

It felt like their dance went on for hours, when Obi-Wan shot forward and swung toward Luke’s open back. But the man jumped and flipped over it, landing feet away and smirking before darting back in. 

A choked gasp came from Cody’s side. 

“What?” Cody asked Mando. 

Mando turned to him. “I just realized how easy Luke’s been going on me the past few years.” 

Cody tried not to chuckle as he looked back at the pair of men. “Yeah, I feel that way too.” 

He managed to catch the moment that Luke nearly took out Obi-Wan’s legs just in time. The General jumped out of the way and darted to the side, almost scrambling as he sent a glare at the man. 

Luke smirked in reaction before yelping as Obi-Wan darted forward and slashed again at him. He jumped backward and fell into a defensive position, moving around far less than Obi-Wan suddenly and instead meeting the blocks head-on. 

Their sabers clashed together as they strained against one another, pushing each other backward. Both men let out groans before suddenly flying backward from each other and a gust of wind blew through. 

“Ah fuck, the Force!” A trooper exclaimed. 

“Weird Jedi osik !” Another agreed. 

But Cody didn’t pay attention to them, too focused on the way that the men were sparring against each other and the hits that they were almost landing. They were pulling out tricks that he had never seen before, like pushing each other with the Force or grabbing at each other's clothes. Even the curses were unique, in languages that Cody didn’t understand. 

But then Luke let out a loud curse and switched his saber to his right hand. The blade sputtered out with a zap. 

Obi-Wan stopped moving, eyes widening and head tilting. 

“Is something…?” Obi-Wan began, before letting out a loud yelp and dodging as Luke aimed a punch with his left hand. 

But it wasn’t the best idea to try to punch the General, because he grabbed onto Luke’s arm as he dodged. With little effort, he turned and threw the man over his back, onto the floor. 

Mando groaned next to him. “He has to work on his hand-to-hand more.” 

“It was a nice try,” Cody replied. 

But Mando didn’t respond, because the two men were already sparring again. 

---

A ten-day had passed after the sparring match and the Negotiator hovered in the atmosphere of Coruscant, looming over the circles of lights and metal buildings. Traffic flew below them in a frenzy. Personal ships cut by industrial cargo haulers and small military escorts rose and fell through the planet’s artificial gravity. Some ships slid through the air, slow and steady, carrying hundreds of people upwards to distant star systems. 

It was all in view of the bridge.

“It’s huge,” Mando grunted. 

Obi-Wan tilted his head toward the man. “Never been to Coruscant?”

“Never had to.” 

“Me neither,” Luke said. 

Obi-Wan looked back to the rugged metal planet and the obnoxious clash of lights and structures. “You’ve never been to the temple here.” 

“It wasn’t safe to,” Luke replied, “It was the heart of the Empire.” 

Then the Jedi grimaced and keeled over, one of his hands flying to his head and pressing firmly against his temple. A strained noise fell from his lips as he kneeled on the floor. 

Immediately the Mandalorian was at his side, supporting a hand into his shoulder and holding him at the waist to keep him from collapsing. 

“What’s wrong?” Mando demanded. 

Luke looked up, his eyes staring out the window toward the planet below. “He knows we’re here.” 

“Who?” Cody asked, but he felt that he already knew. 

“The Sith Lord,” Luke whispered.

Chapter Text

Oil air and humid thoughts hung over Luke as he stepped onto the platform. The pressure bared down across his shoulders, like a bantha sitting on his chest. It roiled in his stomach and pounded against his temple, tearing at the walls pulled up around his mind. 

Coruscant grew around him, the horizon cutting away as buildings climbed into the sky around them and people flew by in ugly speeders. He closed his eyes, ignoring the swamps of noise and stench that was rising from far far below.

Luke pressed his fingers into the side of his head and shifted closer to the empty silence that stood next to him. Beskar drummed against the whirlwinds and sliced open a fabric of silence, tampering with the crushing auras and gushing darkness. He gritted his teeth and wrapped an arm around Din’s arm, dragging him closer. 

“Are you alright?” Din asked, dipping his voice lower as they spoke. He twisted his hand to rest over Luke’s wrist and curled his fingers over the ridge of his glove.

Luke opened his eyes and glared at the surface of Coruscant, at the people walking around him as if nothing was wrong. “This place is disgusting.” 

“It isn’t that bad,” Din argued back, but his fingers curled tighter and his gloved fingers began to ghost over the synthetic skin on his forearm. 

“There are too many people,” Luke replied, “All of their signatures together and all of the Jedi signatures even, it’s too much. There’s darkness too.” 

“You can feel that despite your shields?” Kenobi’s voice broke through to him, surprise layering the tone. 

Luke turned to look at the Jedi Master, letting his gaze wander over the man’s face. His former master held a certain look, his brows furrowing and his lips pressing tightly together. Thoughts flickered behind his eyes, dancing across his expression as he gazed at him. Gears seemed to flicker at the back of his mind as he raised his chin.

Commander Cody stood next to him, an anchor of sunset light that basked pleasantly against the paints and brushes of the Master Jedi beside him. The two swarmed together and grew like a beacon, piercing the darkness of the sky, but they only managed to blind Luke further. 

The Force rippled around Kenobi and reached out to Luke, a gentle hand setting onto his shoulder. Warmth flooded through him and a small buzz grew at the center. The screams of slick thoughts and dark forces flew away from Luke, pulling the pain away from him. Gentle waves dispersed the pain around his shields and lapsed at the walls. 

The beskar walls slowly opened as Luke released a breath and closed his eyes, letting a singular portion of the wall lower and open. He reached through it and pressed against Kenobi’s Force Signature, clinging onto it as he took another breath and shook his thoughts away. 

And then something snapped. 

A shot of light sparked between them and bridged their forces together. The power swirled around them and sparked. 

“Dank farrik,” Luke hissed as he jolted and snapped his eyes closed.

Kenobi snorted and reached a hand up to his head. “Indeed.”

The Force Bond snapped into place before fluttering at the back of Luke’s mind, twinging as their thoughts spun to a trickle and new shields formed around it. Waves of emotions pulsed through the bond before shuttering and softening, falling back into a content mirth that warmed the backs of his shoulders. For a moment, he was reminded of how his aunt would wrap blankets around his shoulders during the middle of the night when he had wanted to look at Tatooine’s night sky. 

“What is it?” Din asked and swiveled his head to him. 

Luke reached up and rubbed the back of his head. “Force Bond.” 

“Ah.” His husband nodded. 

“At least now I’ll be able to shield you from the Force,” Kenobi commented. 

The older Jedi rubbed the back of his neck, eyes casting over the surroundings before falling back onto the group. There was a sparkle at the corner of his eyes, but a frown that lingered at the edges of his lips. He took a breath before turning away from the platform and nodding to the path ahead of them, gesturing vaguely with one hand. 

“The Temple is shielded,” he said, “You should have no problems once we step inside.” 

“I just need to get used to it,” Luke replied, resisting the urge to whine that the Temple felt too far away. 

Din nudged him, his elbow urging him forward. “Rather not have you do some weird Force osik. Let’s get to the temple quickly.” 

Luke could kiss his husband, smother him senseless, and sob at the same time with how much those words squeezed his heart. 

Instead, he wrapped a hand around Din’s arm and pressed his mind into the beskar that adorned it. The mudhorn reared at him as he leaned in, the terrifying image washing his senses with a soft tide. Tendrils of warmth spread from beneath and dispersed over him, supporting the walls that he pushed out around him. 

In the back of his mind, the new Force Bond flickered and sparked. Curiosity and amusement sizzled across Luke’s tongue from it, a soft murmur filling his ears that everything was going to be alright. 

Cody stepped forward, nodding back to them before he turned and strided forward. His helmet caught the light and his broad shoulders parted the sea of people. His pace stood strong as he walked, carving a straight line toward the Jedi temple. He only looked back when Kenobi reached his side, brushing their fingers together. 

The sight pushed a smirk across Luke’s face, a tingle of meaningful mirth crossing his mind. He pushed it down the Force Bond, imagining the image and teasing remarks on his tongue as he did. Kenobi’s shoulders rose as he looked back, one eyebrow raising before he shook his head with a smile and turned back to Cody. 

The Jedi Temple imposed itself as they grew closer, stark against the outlines of the city as it grew toward the sky. Slanted walls shot upward and created sharp corners where they came together. It fit in with the decor of the city, but it hissed harshly against Luke’s imagination of the Jedi. 

Perhaps it was because it was the Imperial Palace in his time. 

Even now, with Jedi warm and light bleeding from it, he could only see the decaying smile of a decrepit man. 

Words trickled from Kenobi’s mouth as he led them up the stairway, growing closer to the gateway that led inside. But everything was muffled by thoughts as Luke followed, his mind swirling and spiraling as he took in the monuments and gray tones. His stomach fell and his heart clenched. 

Then he was inside. 

Pure light, dripping with brushing touches and golden glances, lowered around him and fluttered against the silver of Din’s beskar. Layers of familial and friendly bonds floated through the air, trickling across the ground and staining the walls. Soft, echoing, balance soaked into the environment and mixed into the weakening tensions. 

Sweetness pressed against Luke’s tongue, bringing his thoughts away from the rising ceilings and elongating halls. Memories pressed into his mind and warmed his heart, massaging the aching of his soul. His shoulders relaxed as remembered Grogu’s eyes, the smile on the child’s face, and the trust that they held. Phantom lips pressed against his forehead, whispering words in Mando’a, while arms wrapped around him. 

“Better?” His husband stepped closer to him, helmet dipping to lean closer. 

Luke looked up at him and smiled. “Much.” 

“Welcome to the Jedi Temple, Luke.” Cody fell in on his other side, his helmet swiveling as his gaze craned around. 

“It’s a lot larger in person,” Luke responded, waving his previous thoughts away. 

Kenobi hummed. “I suppose it is.” 

The older Jedi stepped forward, his feet taking him to lead the way. Hardness wore off from his shoulders as he walked, the muscles unstiffening across his back as his gaze swept down to the floors below and to the walkways above them. 

“Do you and Mando know what you need to do now that you’re here?” Cody asked, finally tearing his visor away from the scene around him. 

Luke hummed. “I’d like to talk to the Council about the senate, or maybe someone else knowledgeable.”

“Let us find Master Yoda then,” Kenobi replied as he glanced, “I’m sure he’ll be able to help us with your endeavor.” 

“Lead the way, Master,” Luke responded 

As they walked through the halls, memories of Mandalore slipped forth in his ears. He heard the sounds of shifting sands and dripping water, chants of Mando’a, and clinking armor. The planet had warmed his skin and murmured mysteries long kept, but it was the man who stood within that caught Luke’s attention. 

Mandalore was a sacred space for his husband. 

Din had spent hours exploring the cave systems and even longer scouring the planet’s surface, long before he had returned with his people. It had marked the beginning of his journey, of the new spiritual mission that he had been burdened with. 

A step toward being the Manda’lor, Din had told him, Something that I never wanted to be. 

And now Luke walked in the home of his people, a place that he had never been before. Sacredness leaked from its structures and whispered into Luke’s soul, rattling on the spirit that he had tried to revitalize. 

Luke had never wanted to be burdened with the Jedi’s fate, but it was a destiny that he could never run from. It was something that he had to accept. 

And as he thought this, something familiar pushed at the edges of his mind. 

The presence washed over him, whispering of wind and mud but echoes of stories after long days and tiny fires. Luke’s head turned back before he could catch himself, his eyes snapping to the tiny Grand Master that had appeared in the hallway behind them, and a smile growing across his face. 

“Master Yoda!” Luke exclaimed. 

Cane taps echoed in the air and long green ears twitched as the tiny Jedi turned to them. Large eyes peered, bouncing with light as he moved forward. 

Dances burst in the Force, speckling around like fireworks, but they tasted of curiosity and wonder. But with one push deeper, Luke could spot the shadows echoing around the edges and smells of blood, of cold-handed fear crawling beneath the light. At that moment, words echoed back to him. 

I’m not afraid. 

You will be. 

It was the sucked breath from next to him that brought him away from his memories and sent his gaze glancing to his side. Light reflected off of Din’s armor, falling still as his body stiffened and his visor stared. The gaze behind his helmet locked on, a missile with a target, a father recognizing the species of his son. 

“You know Master Yoda?” Kenobi’s head tilted, eyes snapping between them. 

Before he could answer, the Grand Master had joined them, his voice beating out Luke’s. 

“Padawan of mine, you are,” Yoda said with a growing smile, his eyes locked onto Luke. 

Din startled next to him, the visor of his helmet still fixed onto the Grand Master. 

“For a time, yes.” Luke smiled. 

Yoda huffed and raised his head. “No matter the time, my padawan still, you are.” 

“And here I thought you might have been my padawan in the future,” Kenobi joked. 

Luke glanced over at him, a smirk growing on his face. “You were my first master.” 

“I was?” Kenobi blinked.

“Yes,” Luke answered, before looking back to Yoda. “But Master Yoda was my second, he taught me for far longer than you.” 

“Troublesome, you are. Sense it, I do.” Yoda tapped his cane on the ground. “Time-traveled, you have.” 

“Yes, Master,” Luke responded. 

“End the war, you wish to do.” 

“We believe that’s why we were sent here.” Cold wrapped around Luke’s shoulder’s as the words slid from his mouth, but a single breath dispelled the fear and replaced it with a calm assurance. 

The Grand Master peered up at him, humming under his breath. “Know how, do you?”

“There’s a Sith Lord in the Senate,” Luke replied. 

Yoda's claws tightened around his cane, nuzzling into marks left before, and his eyes narrowed as they slid away. Not empty, but wandering away, they strayed to the further corner of the hall. His lips pulled back as the information sunk in and set into his bones. 

Then the Jedi turned to them. “Careful, the Jedi Order must be. Without evidence, we cannot act.” 

“Yes, Master.” 

“But not a part of this time, you are.” Yoda’s cane tapped again. “Chose you for this, the Force has.” 

The relief of blooming flowers fluctuated in the air, flowing away from Kenobi’s signature and joining with the soft currents thriving within Cody’s. The two mixed together, reflecting the way Luke’s shoulders relaxed and his hands fell together in front of him. 

He smiled at his former master, a sense of nostalgia and gratitude flowing through him. The older Jedi looked up at him once again, his eyes flickering between Din and Luke. 

“A room for you, there will be,” Yoda said.

Luke nodded. “Thank you, Master.”
The Grand Master huffed and smiled, tapping his cane against the ground before he walked past. His walk, more like a waddle, was enough to bring another smile to Luke’s face. 

Though he would never miss Dagobah, he had always missed his late master. 

“I suppose he found us,” Kenobi remarked. 

Luke hummed, “One does not find Yoda, Yoda finds you.” 

Cody snorted and shook his head, while Kenobi let out a soft chuckle. 

But Din didn’t laugh, instead, he turned to Luke and tilted his helmet. “Why did you never tell me that your former master was the same species as my son?” 

Choked sounds spurted from Kenobi and Cody as Luke tried to remember the reason that he hadn’t. 

---

It was when they decided to find the guest room that it happened. 

Searing warmth flooded over Luke’s back, like a white-hot fire rippling through his nerves and spine. It jolted deep into his bones as the familiar taste of blood and power bloomed at the back of his throat. His gaze flickered down the hall, catching onto rays of reds, blues, and yellows. His stomach sank, his heart gasped, and his mind fell blank. 

Anakin Skywalker walked through the arches and patches of light, eyes narrowing and shoulders leaning back. Dark robes adorned him as he stepped forward, dark browns and blacks held snug together at his waist by a dark belt. A lightsaber, his lightsaber, the one that followed Luke’s dreams, clung to the man’s side. 

He had to search for something, anything, to speak before anyone noticed, but his shields were already slamming forward in front of him. Carved instinct dragged through him and pushed the beskar walls high, zapping away everything from in the Force. 

Din stepped closer to him. 

“Anakin!” Kenobi stepped away from their little group, the brightness cascading his voice fracturing the darkness swelling in around Luke. 

Anakin. 

Luke took a breath as his emotions raged into a storm. Fear, anger, happiness, and sorrow, all dropped into the pit of his stomach and seeped into the veins of his body, exploring his chest and rushing through bones. They thundered muffled as he pulled his shields tight and slid his mask on, dragging forth his neutral tones and eyes, conjuring the peaceful and detached persona he had curated. 

“Master,” his father’s voice fell from the man’s lips. 

Oh, that’s what he actually sounded like. Luke thought. Without the mask, without the pain. 

“Who are these men?” Anakin asked, his eyes turning away from the ginger-haired man to the three others. “Besides Cody, obviously.” 

“Well, that’s a complicated question to answer.” Kenobi looked back at them, a hint of questions rising from in the Force. They sprung like seeds, spinning and twirling as he met Luke’s gaze. 

“Not that complicated,” Luke replied, “My name is Luke Djarin, and this is Mando.” 

“Luke Djarin,” his father said with something overlying in his voice, his arms crossing his chest and his head tilting upward. “I’m Anakin Skywalker.” 

Orange curiosity flashed over Anakin’s force signature and Luke had to bite his tongue, fingers twitching at his sides. 

Instead, he pulled a smile onto his face and peered up at his father. “I’ve heard a lot about you from the 212th.” 

The man blinked. “You have?” 

“All good things,” Luke said. 

Cody scoffed, adding, “The men told him and Mando about your adventures with the 501st, sir.” 

That’s when a smirk pulled over his father’s lips, easing the warry edges of Anakin’s signature and wearing the sharp points away. He leaned back on his heels, his crossed arms sliding down and his hands locked at his elbows. 

“We’ve had some fun times,” Anakin said, memories drifting across his face and splattering in his Force signature. 

Luke nodded as something fuzzy grew at the center of his stomach, drawing itself through his skin to pull at the edges of his lips. The fierce burning faded away as he looked back at his father again, letting the sunny smile on his face wash the dread away. 

He knew that his father was walking toward a dark path, teetering toward a pit that he could not be redeemed from, but Anakin Skywalker was still just a man. He still smiled and joked, cared and loved, he had yet to massacre the ones he loved and let his fury rain across the galaxy. 

“I’ve never heard of you before,” Anakin said, “Are you a Jedi Shadow by chance?” 

A Jedi what? Luke thought but forced himself to answer with a shake of his head. “No, I’m not, but the reason you’ve never heard of me before is more complicated than that.” 

“Why is that?” 

Luke tore his eyes away from his father, letting them fall back onto his husband. The silver Mandalorian looked at him, head tilting downward before his shoulder deflated and his head nodded forward. 

“Well, we’re from a different dimension.” Luke looked back at Anakin. “Our dimension is the same as yours, but years ahead in the future.” 

His father blinked before his eyes swept over both of them and his lips drew into a tight line. “A different dimension?” 

“Yes,” Luke replied. 

Kenobi coughed and waved a hand. “They have proven it, Anakin, and it has happened before according to Master Koon.” 

“I see,” Anakin replied, his lip twitching, “How far in the future is your dimension then?” 

“Roughly thirty years, but I’m not sure on the exact timeline,” Luke admitted. 

Anakin tilted his head. “Why’s that?” 

“The dates have changed.” Din stepped forward, shoulder brushing against Luke’s shoulder, his fingers skimming over his wrist. “We don’t use the old calendar, we use one based on the Battle of Yavin.” 

“Which we’ve never heard of, hence why we don’t use it,” Anakin sighed. 

Luke nodded. “It makes understanding things difficult, but we’re figuring out how to get back.” 

“Do you have an idea for that?” 

“Changing the end of this war.” 

“You know how this war ends?” Anakin’s posture went rigid, his fingers clenching the materials of his robes. His eyes burned through Luke’s as the man shifted on his feet, leaning closer. 

He’s worn, Luke suddenly thought. 

Eyes tattered and cracked from months spent in conflict, weight bearing down on their shoulders, and bodies crumbling inward on their souls. Luke had seen them before, in the men that he had led into battle, in the men he had saved, and in the eyes of the clones he had met. Despite that, he had never expected Anakin to wear those eyes. 

Yet, it made sense that his father wouldn’t be exempt from the horrors of war. 

Luke glanced toward his husband, taking in the draw of the man’s breath and the stare of his visor. Din’s eyes were locked on Anakin’s form, fingers twitching and body frozen in the moment. Despite that, warmth flooded from him, wrapping around like a protective blanket and hiding the distinct taste of worry. 

“Well,” Luke drawled as he let his eyes sweep to Cody and Kenobi, meeting their softening eyes for only a moment before turning to the wayward Jedi, “That is also complicated.” 

Anakin’s eyes narrowed. “How so?” 

“The actual information on the war’s end is biased,” Luke responded, “Filled with cover-ups and twisted stories. The truth has been muddied and it’s hard to be sure what actually happened.” 

“So you don’t actually know.” 

“But we have an idea,” Luke argued, “And like most things, it starts with the Sith.” 

“Of course.” Anakin pinched the bridge of his nose. “The Sith.”

“Sir,” Cody’s voice pitched up and he turned toward Kenobi, “I think now would be a good time to bring the General into the loop. He’ll be stationed on Coruscant as long as us, after all.” 

“Yes, this is a good time,” Kenobi replied.
“Bring me into the loop?” Anakin asked. “What does that mean?” 

Kenobi waved a hand toward Luke and Din. “Tell you what information they’ve been able to give us.” 

“Like what?” Anakin’s voice dropped. 

“Like the fact they confirmed the presence of a Sith Lord in the senate.” 

Anakin’s head whipped around, his eyes locking in on Luke. “Who?” 

“I can’t say.” Luke shook his head. “But…” 

“But what?” Anakin turned toward him, eyes narrowing again. “We could end the war if you told us who this Sith Lord is.”

“I don’t think it would end the war,” Luke argued, “But it would complicate things.” 

“Does it really matter? The Sith are evil.” 

“I agree.”

“Then why not tell us?” 

“No, I’m not doing that.”

“People are dying!” Anakin snapped. “Do you not care at all?” 

Din stepped forward and his voice dropped in the modulation of his helmet. “And even more people will die, will suffer, if he gets this wrong.” 

“Mando is right, Anakin,” Kenobi added, “We must have patience.” 

Red burst across Anakin’s signature and his face drew back, his eyebrows creasing and his eyes narrowing as his lips pressed back against his teeth. Frustration sizzled in the air as the man stepped forward, a hand rising as he spoke. 

“This war has been going on for a long time, Master,” Anakin said, “We shouldn’t waste time.” 

“I understand,” Kenobi said, “I feel the same urgency.”

“Skywalker,” Luke said, despite the cotton that had filled his mouth and the way his mind reeled at the name's use, “It’s not my goal to make this war last longer than it did… I’m here to change your future, I don’t know how much time I have before I can’t fix that anymore.” 

“Then why not tell us who the Sith is?” Anakin asked. “The faster the better.” 

“No,” Luke replied. 

“No?” The Jedi asked and furrowed his brows, the frown growing deeper. 

“No,” Luke repeated, “The man behind all of this is the smartest man I’ve ever met.” 

Anakin stepped back, his jaw falling and his eyes narrowing. He looked as if he had been slapped. “You’re kidding me.” 

Luke scoffed. “I wish that I was, but this man had been controlling everyone for years to accumulate more power until he became near unstoppable.” 

“ Near unstoppable.”

“It took over twenty years of rebelling to finally kill him,” Luke replied, “I’m not about to underestimate this man.” 

“Twenty years?” 

Luke’s head swung to Kenobi. 

The man’s eyes softened as his mouth parted, furrowing his brows as the concern fell across his face. His voice layered hoarse as he asked again. 

“It took twenty years?” 

Luke nodded, biting back the stories and reasons that threatened to flood across him. 

Kenobi dragged a hand over his face, pulling at the skin, as he let loose a breath. Cody glanced at him, shoulders and stance wavering. Concern fluttered through the air, but it washed away as Kenobi looked back up. 

“Cody, could you take them to their room?” Kenobi asked, his eyes flickering. “I’d like to have a conversation with Anakin, alone.”

The marshal commander raised his shoulders and nodded. “Of course, sir.” 

---

The room was bare of life. 

There was a queen-size bed in the far corner, lowered to inches above the floor, and covered in tight-fitting sheets. Opposite it was a wardrobe with the doors hanging open, showing the lack of contents inside. Windows screened the far wall, allowing light to shine across the floor and furniture, but they snapped shut when the light flickered on. The door to the refresher was past the wardrobe, hidden in a small alcove fitted into the wall. 

That being said, it was far better than most places that Luke had slept. 

The bed was softer than most he had, softer than the one he owned. 

He leaned back against it as he sat down, letting his limbs fall limp and breath heaved out of him. 

“Are you alright?” The bed dipped and his husband settled, his hand ghosting over Luke’s hand.

“Not really,” Luke whispered, rolling his head to the side and looking up. His husband leaned closer to him, shoulders twisting as his body pressed against the plush mattress. Din’s helmet tilted toward him before its cold surface pressed against the warm flesh of his head. 

With eyes falling closed, Luke sighed, “I didn’t expect to see my father, as silly as that is.” 

“It’s not silly,” Din responded, voice warm and soft. “Are you worried about him?” 

“Yes, but I don’t think he’ll try anything.” 

“That’s not what I meant.” Din pulled back, his black visor freezing Luke into place. 

Luke sighed, before nodding again, admitting, “I want to save him too.” 

“From the… uh, what’s it… from the Dark Side?” 

“Yes, I want to save him from… from becoming Vader.” 

The words felt heavy in his mouth as he stared up at his husband, reaching through the Force to feel the gears rolling in Din’s mind. The man hummed before rolling over, landing on his knees above Luke, and tilting his head. 

“I understand wanting to save your family, more than anything,” Din said. “I’d especially do anything to save you.” 

“But…?” Luke asked. “I can tell there’s a 'but' there, my love.” 

Din’s gloved fingers danced over Luke’s cheek, before cupping it with his palm. “But I couldn’t save you from the Dark Side physically, that is something that you would have to do on your own.” 

“That’s something that my father will have to do on his own.” 

“Yes, cyar’ika. ” Din snorted, knocking his helmet against Luke’s head. “Now, let’s forget your father for a minute.” 

“Yeah?” Luke smirked. 

“You’re stressed, I’m going to fix that.”

“You’re going to fix that?” Luke whispered, glee spreading across his heart. 

His husband hummed, pinks, reds, and blues sprouting from him through the Force, filling the air with the taste and smell of adventure. His fingers crawled up the side of Luke’s face before diving into his hair, pushing his head back against the mattress. 

“I am,” his husband said, “I’ll do anything that my riduur would do for me.”

Chapter Text

Obi-Wan waited until Cody was out of sight before leading his former padawan to a vacant training room. The rounded walls reached upwards, creating a dome of windows and lights that cradled them in place. Columns stood at the edges, breaking points in the plain surface and creating a dimension to the room. Between them were benches that hung low to the floor, backs to the walls and windows. 

They were the first things that Obi-Wan locked onto and strode toward. Tension curled underneath his shoulders as he fell onto the bench, leaning over his knees and placing his head in his hands. 

Footsteps followed him across the room but they stopped out of reach, tapping against the floor and stifling the room. Reds and shadows swirled in the air, blotched like drops of paint beginning to turn frayed and sharp at the edges. It tasted sour. 

“Are you sure it’s a good idea to wait, Master?” Anakin asked. 

“Yes,” Obi-Wan admitted as he looked up, “This situation is more dire than you think.” 

Shadows fell over Anakin’s eyes as he looked up, his lips pursing together. “People are dying, I think that’s dire enough.” 

The words brought memories forth, plunging into Obi-Wan’s side and searing across his mind. He closed his eyes tight and dropped his head, taking a breath. 

Who do you think was their first target?

The colors around him softened, melding into a dark orange and swaying in the air. Then his padawan moved, taking a spot on the bench next to him. His shoulders were hunched as his lips drew back, confusion playing over his features. 

“What do you know?” Anakin leaned forward, eyes narrowing. “What could be so bad that you, Obi-Wan Kenobi, are afraid?”

“The Jedi are massacred.” 

The words left Obi-Wan’s mouth tasting like ash, but they exploded with emotion across the Force. Anguish waved out of him and spread across the room, raging in colors of yellow and puke green. It hissed against Anakin’s signature as the man shifted closer, breath sucking in and his light wavering. 

Thoughts pushed down the bond between them, lacking words but carrying so much more meaning. They encouraged Obi-Wan forward, wrapping around him and warming his arms. They whispered as they pushed on his shoulders, like a weighted blanket collapsing on top of him. 

Obi-Wan shuttered. 

“Luke doesn’t know Master Plo… he doesn’t know Cody,” He rasped, “He doesn’t know you.”

“Master,” Anakin began. 

“No, Anakin, you don’t understand, you’re like a brother to me.” Obi-Wan turned to the man, reaching out and grabbing his shoulder. “I raised you, I raised you like a son, and I trained you, and I… I can’t imagine you gone, but Luke doesn’t know you.” 

But Anakin shook his head, arguing, “That doesn’t mean I’m dead, Master.” 

“But he knows me, Anakin,” Obi-Wan said, begging Anakin to understand his point, “And I can’t imagine a future where you aren’t nearby, where you and Cody aren’t in my life.”  

Light peered through for a moment, intense and flickering, before vanishing as greens and purples cascaded over it. 

Cody? Anakin’s thoughts echoed loudly, almost as if he had been shouting it. 

The younger Jedi turned, eyes narrowing. Waves of anxiety began to spread from him, crawling out like spiders across his skin. 

“Attachments are dangerous, Master,” Anakin said in a lowered voice, lips twitching.

“I know.” Obi-Wan looked at his former padawan and sighed, remorse and confusion coloring his words. “But after meeting Luke, I’m beginning to think they’re even more nuanced than I once believed.” 

His words only added to the red confusion in Anakin’s signature, bleeding into the other colors hanging tangible in the air. “What do you mean by that, Master?” 

Obi-Wan shook his head and dropped his hand from Anakin’s shoulder. “I never thought of attachments as inherently bad, Anakin, but I’ve always understood the fear of losing them could lead down a horrible path… but maybe, that isn’t the only path they lead.” 

The spiders only grew across Anakin’s signature, slowly turning into buzzing forms that slid across the dazzling brights of his aura. A foggy blue settled around his head as he took a breath, his eyes darting away and shoulders tensing. Thoughts ran rampant around him, all of them so loud that it was impossible to make a single one out. 

And then it faded, sand falling over it all as Anakin pushed his shields forward.

He stood up, his voice sighing as he spoke, “Well, I’m not going anywhere, Master.”

“I hope not,” Obi-Wan said. 

“I need to find Ahsoka, but…” Anakin glanced toward the door, shifting on his feet, and messing with his gloves, before looking back. “Keep in touch?” 

“May the Force be with you,” Obi-Wan whispered.

His former padawan looked back, before nodding. “And with you.” 

The man sprung free from his fidgeting and left the room, the door sliding shut behind him and clicking into place. 

---

The conversation with Anakin bounced around Obi-Wan’s head as he walked. The corridors shuffled by, falling out of sight as his own thoughts and imagination took over. His mind filled with the way that Anakin had sprung out of the room, with the look on his face throughout the conversation, and the shake in the man’s shoulders as they spoke. 

He couldn’t place what anxiety had filled his young padawan, he rarely ever could, but he knew that it was there. Anxiety circled Anakin’s mind, like a predator hunting its prey. 

But there wasn’t much that Obi-Wan could do to help, not when Anakin wouldn’t tell him what was wrong. 

That’s fine, he thought, Anakin’s old enough to handle himself. 

He was still worried. 

But he didn’t have time to ponder it more as his commlink blinked and spoke, “Master Kenobi, there will be a Council Meeting at noon with Master Djarin. He has already been informed of this.” 

“Thank you,” he replied a moment later with a sigh. 

Instead of going to the time travelers' rooms, Obi-Wan switched gears and drifted down another corridor. He let his feet glide over the ground and his mind wander again, though it meandered down a different path. Images speared across his vision, floating to the surface with ripples. He could trace them with his finger, catching the smile that turned toward him or the muscles that rippled underneath tight black material. Venturing deeper, he imagined the smile turning into a laugh, turning into the voice that intoxicated him. He could see the way that Cody would lean forward with interest and smirk, the scar on his face twitching and scrunching in a way that made Obi-Wan want to kiss it. 

He fell into these thoughts, letting walls of silence and thorns grow around him. They encircled his mind, drawing the curtains closed on his thoughts for any that lay outside of it. These were things that he could think to himself while he walked toward his room. 

Obi-Wan’s quarters lay a few corridors ahead of him, squeezed between a corner and a staircase. He could stumble down the stairs into the creche, into the training areas, and find his way to the large kitchens, or he could travel upstairs to find more rooms, the council’s room, and more. It was the perfect spot, he thought, to have access to both sides with ease. 

The inside was quaint, twisting in a weird shape to accommodate the stairs and fit in a refresher. The windows had been placed higher up, allowing for a small, but nice view into Coruscant. Rays of light cascaded from the windows and spread across the room, catching onto the greenery and furniture. The bed caught most of the light in the morning, turning into a golden pool that scared the cold darkness away. 

He loved his room, he truly did, but there was one downside to it. That downside was the amount of traffic that passed it, stealing from the amount of privacy that he had at any point. Footsteps marched past, echoing through his room, and if he ever left, he almost always ran into another person. 

Either way, it still wasn’t a surprise when he slid open the door and his eyes caught onto the figure inside. Cody was standing next to the bed, his shoulders hunched forward as he stared down at the datapad in his hands. Muscles twitched in his neck and his feet shifted, the only acknowledgment that he had arrived. His helmet sat discarded on the bed, next to his pair of gloves.

Obi-Wan didn’t need the Force to see that Cody was frustrated, but the feeling licked the air and spread an uncomfortable warmth across the room. Anxiety drizzled between the lines of paint and whispered fears across the board, it stretched its claws over hearts and chests to sear pain. It exploded with the smell of sulfur and tasted like ash. 

The Force trembled in the way that Cody’s hands did. 

“My dear, what’s wrong?” Obi-Wan stepped through the doorway, feeling the air rush past him as it slid shut. “I can feel how stressed you are.” 

The commander looked up, his jaw flexing and hands clenching tighter around the datapad. Shields began to rise around him, blocking off the waves of emotions and thoughts exuding from him. But then they stopped, a sigh leaving his nose and his shoulders relaxing, letting the shields slump back down. 

“It has to do with my batch,” Cody said. 

Warmth flooded Obi-Wan’s chest as he met the man’s brown eyes, catching the worry inside. “Did something happen?” 

“It’s Fox, I think that something’s wrong.” Cody looked away, back toward the datapad. “Let me show you.” 

Blue light cascaded upward as the datapad flickered on, aurebesh letters danced across the screen and folded between lines and shapes. Slowly it turned into a messaging platform, with names of chats or people popping up, alongside numbers of unread messages and unopened files. 

Obi-Wan drifted closer and leaned toward Cody, brushing their shoulders together as his gaze fell upon the open conversation. 

Cody: Fox, did you receive the files that I sent you? It’s important that those are filled out promptly before the 212th reaches Coruscant. If you don’t reply, I’ll send them to Thorn. 

Cody: Fox, I sent the files to Thorn. 

Cody: Fox, are you on Coruscant?

Cody: Hey, did we do something to upset you?

Cody: Please answer, Fox. 

Cody: Fox, are you there?

Cody: Fox, please

Cody: Fox’ika

The messages dated back over the past few days, with the oldest one being over a week old. There was no indication that Fox had received these messages, or if he had, that he had read them. It was possible for one to turn off their messages or to toggle the settings into never showing if a message had been read, but those features were prohibited across the GAR and the Guard, as far as Obi-Wan knew.

It wasn’t likely that Fox, who had been a stickler for rules, had broken such a regulation. 

“All my batchmates are having the same problem,” Cody said and brushed his fingers over the datapad, opening another chat. 

Obi-Wan snorted as he read the name, before letting his eyes wander over the conversation. 

17’s little nightmares

Wreck it: Fox still isn’t answering, Cody

pups: If you don’t track his ass down, the 501st will have thier contraband

Codes: No need to make threats, just made it to Coruscant

Bubblebubblebubble: Are you going to find him?

Codes: yes

Bubblebubblebubble: tell him I’ve been talking to Stone

pups: that’ll wake him up

Blyellow: it’s been over a week, if he’s in the dump again…

Blyellow: I have some shipments i could send him

pups: do we all have caf contraband to share with him?

Wreck it: Of course, we’re not animals

Codes: Has anyone asked if the guard commanders have talked to him?

Bubblebubblebubble: they have not, i think. Stone dodges my questions

pups: they don’t know where there own commander is???

Wreck it: Can you please spell ‘their’ correctly?

pups: shut up

Blyellow: Codes?

Codes: I’ll report back later.

Blyellow: Oh no

Bubblebubblebubble: Guess Fox isn’t the only one in the dumps

The message ended with Ponds’ comment, the screen locked into place as the conversation fell silent. 

Stress rolled through the air and soiled the smells, creating a wall that pushed in on Cody’s form. The man’s eyes were glued to the comms, hand pressing to the side of his face before fingers carded through his hair and his nose scrunched. Tremors rolled through him as he shifted on his feet, another sigh pushing from his lungs.

“I need to look for Fox, but I can’t stop shaking, and apparently I’ve been invited to a council meeting,” Cody said as he dropped his arm, the datapad falling onto the bed. He looked up, eyes cascading down and shoulders slumping.

“I can see that,” Obi-Wan said gently, “Thank you for telling me this.” 

Something softened behind Cody’s eyes, his signature flickering lightly, and his gaze swept toward the floor. “You don’t need to thank me, I trust you.” 

“Even so, I’m glad that you did.” Obi-Wan swayed into the warmth blooming off of Cody’s signature, aching for it as the man’s gaze snapped back to him. 

Silence hung between them as pink wisps dashed around them, but they squirted the edges of the garish yellow hanging over Cody’s shoulders. His anxiety and frustration spiraled in slow tendrils, carefully fading at the edges. 

Finally, Cody asked, “Do you think Fox is alright?” 

“I can’t be for certain that he is,” Obi-Wan admitted, “But if he isn’t, I’ll do everything I can to help.” 

“You mean that?”

“Of course I do,” Obi-Wan whispered. “I care about you.” 

The pink glowed and advanced through the oceans of yellows, dropping across Cody’s eyes as a smile twitched at his lips and his head tilted to the side. The tension fled from his shoulders as they slumped to the side. 

The look in his eyes froze Obi-Wan’s heart and stole the breath from his chest, warmth curling further into his gut. 

“Luke told me that you care about me,” Cody said.

“He did?” Amusement crowded over Obi-Wan's chest as he thought of the younger Jedi, pushing a way of gratitude down their bond before closing shields around it. “He’s not wrong.” 

Glimmers ran over Cody’s brown eyes, warm and mirthful, “I didn’t think he was.” 

The space between them vanished as Cody swarmed closer. One of his hands snaked upward, trailing over Obi-Wan’s shoulder, and tangling in the hair at the back of his neck. It tugged him forward as Cody’s head fell closer, his eyes falling shut as their foreheads came together. Warmth bloomed as skin touched skin and spirit touched spirit. 

Flutters filled Obi-Wan’s heart as he sighed and relaxed, leaning into the sensation and nudging his head against Cody’s. Their breaths mingled as the moment wore on and colors blossomed around them. Freeing the scents hidden by steel and plastoid, exuding the pines, chocolates, and spice that hid beneath. 

Obi-Wan reached out in the Force as he closed his eyes, brushing over it and capturing the moment. It filled him with the warmth of gold and love, filling him from his hair to his toes. Pink rushed with swatches of velvet and red, careening into the oranges of Cody’s signature, and beaming against the backdrop. They swirled into shapes, drawing stories with sand and water. 

When Cody pulled away, his eyes opened and drew back to the warm pools within Cody’s eyes. 

“I think I’m in love with you,” Cody breathed, his brown eyes doing little to hide the glimmers dancing inside.

“I’ve been waiting to hear that for a long time,” Obi-Wan whispered as he leaned into the hand on his neck. 

Cody’s eyes crinkled, lips twitching into a smile. “Why didn't you tell me?” 

“I’m your superior, Cody,” Obi-Wan replied, “It had to be you that moved first.” 

Glee glimmered as Cody nodded, eyes softening. “What does this mean for us?” 

“We’ll figure it out.” 

“Obi-Wan, I love you.” Cody pulled away, letting his hand move to Obi-Wan's shoulder and squeeze. “And it scares me how much I do because I’m afraid I’d do anything for you at the expense of others.” 

He understood that fear, that darkness that loomed deep within and threatened to take over. The thing that whispered into his insecurities and screamed that everything would fall apart. It had been with Obi-Wan for as long as he had been alive, and he knew there was that darkness in everyone. 

But he would never choose it, he would never let it guide his actions, and he knew that more so as he looked at Cody. 

The marshal commander was a ray of light in the darkness, a beacon that sang through waters and fears. Even if this man, this savior, had darkness within him, the light would always outshine it. 

He reached his hand up, placing it over the top of Cody’s and smoothing out the feeling of his skin. With a squeeze, he looked at the man before him. 

“You won’t, and I’ll never ask you to,” Obi-Wan said. 

“How do you know?” 

Obi-Wan hummed, his gaze wandering across Cody’s skin. “Would you kill Rex for me?” 

Horror flooded Cody’s face, his eyes widening and his mouth falling slack. Words fell short across his tongue as his face fell back, brows furrowing and mouth clenching. His jaw popped as he spoke, eyes hard. 

“No,” Cody said, “Never.”

“That’s how I know.” Obi-Wan squeezed Cody’s hand again, meeting his gaze and pushing waves of comfort toward him. “I know you have things that you’ll put above us, and that is fine because I’ll have things that’ll come first too.” 

“Like the Order?” He asked.

“Like the Order.” 

Shadows fell across Cody’s face as he dipped his head closer, more questions popping through his Force Signature. “It’s against the Order to have attachments like this.” 

“I think if we’ve learned anything in the past few weeks, it is how times will change and with it, the dictations of our lives must change too,” Obi-Wan replied. 

He slid his hand away from Cody’s and down his wrist, caressing the warmth of the man’s skin before traveling over the plastoid that protected him. The cool material slid under his fingertips, catching him with the marks that scared its surface. Each scratch, each discoloration, and each divot was a sign; each one was a battle won, a battle survived, and a battle fought. 

Despite all the dangers, all of the horrible things that had happened, Cody was still alive. 

Obi-Wan could feel the pulse of his life through the plastoid. Heat expanded past the armor and spread through the air, quivering with soul and health. 

“Can I kiss you?” Cody asked. 

“I’d love nothing more.” Obi-Wan smiled. 

The hand on Obi-Wan’s neck tugged him forward as Cody leaned in. Their lips met and tingles of warmth cascaded through the air, spreading across skin and burning the smell of cinnamon. The world fell away as the kiss grew longer, leaning into the sensations and the moment. 

It was not a perfect kiss, but Obi-Wan’s heart shrieked and his insides melted into his gut. He wrapped an arm around Cody’s waist, anchoring himself against the stronger man, and finding the foundation to stay on his feet. 

He hummed against the feelings and heard the chuckle that fell from him as he moved closer. The ration bars and caf from earlier that morning spread over his lips as Cody pressed further, his hand traveling upward to cling to curls of hair. 

Then Cody pulled away, nuzzling their noses together as he took a deep breath. “I’ve been waiting for that.” 

“I’m sure you have,” Obi-Wan whispered and leaned back, resting his hand on Cody’s hip before sighing, “We should go before we don’t have enough time to find Fox.” 

Cody glanced at his wrist. “We have an hour before the Council Meeting.” 

“We better hurry then.” Obi-Wan winked. 

Blush bloomed between them, a fire burning forward as Cody chuckled. The smile remained on the man’s face as he took a step back, scooping up his helmet and gloves.

As the warmth lingered across his lips, Obi-Wan turned and beamed toward the floor. Giddy nerves flew through his fingers as he stepped forward, his hands moving to hover over the door. 

“Obi-Wan?” 

“Yes?” Obi-Wan looked back, catching the smile across Cody’s face. 

“Thank you.” 

---

The Guard Headquarters hid beneath the structures of the senate buildings, pushed snuggly against the side with its doors opening to the lower levels. The structure ached under the foundation of the larger one, spreading out its wings to create a steady base for itself. Metal works grew up the sides, arching across tiny windows and blending the building in with the surrounding architecture. 

“I hate this place,” Cody said. 

Obi-Wan gazed across the entrance, watching as Guard members marched through them, “Too busy or too dreadful?” 

“Both,” Cody huffed, “Fox’s office is on the top floor, connected to the Senate Building.” 

“Lovely, we have quite the hike then, my dear.” 

“Follow me.” Cody stalked forward, orange and gold radiating from his shoulders and smearing across his armor. The sunset of his being caught the darkness and strangled it, striking forward and marching against the tides. 

More thoughts followed, crowding at the back of Obi-Wan’s mind as he strides forward. He caught onto the edge of the sunlight and bathed in the warmth provided. 

The entrance slid open, revealing the bustling world behind them. A patrol fell into line near the entrance, an officer barking orders and instructions as the members calibrated their blasters. On the other side, a man laughed and swayed between two Guardsmen who supported him. 

“It’s just the Drunk Tank, sir,” One of them said. 

The man snorted, swaying on her feet, “I’m not that drunk, you stupid meat droids.” 

“Just to be safe,” the second guard said. 

“You’re both horrible!” The man groaned. “Good for nothing, a waste of tax credits, horrible…” 

His rant cut off as the door beside them opened and they shoved him into the waiting elevator. 

Obi-Wan tore his attention away from the commotion and focused back on the desk in the middle, pushed far back and one level up from the rest of the room. It circled around, leading two hallways down either side, and had three Guardsmen manning it. One of them looked up as they approached, his exhaustion and annoyance sparking through the Force. 

“How can I help you, Commander Cody?” The Guard member asked. 

Ah, they know each other, Obi-Wan thought. 

“We’re here to see Commander Fox,” Cody replied.

The Guard grimaced. “You know that you have to make an appointment to see the Commander.” 

“Too bad, this is an emergency.” Cody jabbed his thumb over his shoulder, straight toward Obi-Wan. “I wouldn’t have brought the High General with me if it wasn’t.” 

The white lie passed over the man, but it brought a small sense of amusement to Obi-Wan. It reminded him of the comments that people often made, about how reliable and by the book Cody was. In truth, the marshal commander only knew the regulations well enough to bend them or to find loopholes. He was chaos, really, but he was a controlled chaos. 

“Of course, I understand,” The Guard said, “But the Commander is very busy at the moment…” 

“Let him know that we’re here,” Cody replied, “We’ll wait in his office.” 

An arm slipped around Obi-Wan’s, tightening around his bicep and dragging him out of place. The world teetered as Cody’s fingers wound into his Jedi robes, tugging him to storm down the nearest hallway. Sputters left the counter's side, vanishing from sight as the hallway loomed closer and Obi-Wan’s fight dragged across the floor. 

“Wait!” The Guard called. “Wait!” 

A huff left Cody’s lips, matching the tension rising in his shoulders. His grip tugged against Obi-Wan’s arm and held him tight. Butterflies swooped through his stomach as the commander stormed through the hall, leaving him to be dragged across the metal surfaces. 

Light flickered at the end of the hallway, casting shadows against the lone door in the area. A panel to the side flickered with two buttons. As they grew closer, a screeching sound ricocheted off the walls. It was the sound of metal scraping against metal, sending screams of sparks. 

An elevator , Obi-Wan realized, a really horrible elevator . 

“This can’t be up to code,” he said. 

Cody nodded, his lips twitching upward, and jabbed one of the buttons. “I told Fox that and he told me to stick it up my ass.” 

“Well, you can remind him when we find him.” Obi-Wan nudged their shoulders together, pulling at the bond between them and imagining waves of heat flowing between them. 

“Maybe I will,” Cody said, “But I have a few choice words for him first.” 

“Oh?” Obi-Wan mused. 

“Yes, after I throw him through a table.” 

The screaming metal hid the laugh that fell out of Obi-Wan’s mouth, but it couldn’t hide the smile that stretched across his face. Amusement rolled through his mind as he remembered his own creche mates and how many fights had risen between them. 

Second later, the door opened and the flickering light revealed the shadows inside. The sterile gray elevator was small with a cascade of lights on one side and a single light built into the ceiling. Darkness crept from the corners as they stepped inside, crawling out of the stains and peering out of the cracks. The stains caught the shadows, caught the light, reflecting their stale brown color. 

“Is that dried blood?” Obi-Wan asked. 

“I think so,” Cody muttered, “I haven’t seen that before.” 

The elevator moved, but Obi-Wan’s eyes stayed glued to the stain stretching across the floor. It slithered into form before him and it scratched at the edge of his mind. 

In a breath, he reached out through the Force and prodded the writhing form of darkness. Screams filled his ears as his mind was dragged forward, before turning into a stifling silence. Darkness spread through the mazes and walls, casting over the building's layout. Whispers began to follow him, cascading into orders and numbers. 

Obi-Wan turned to the whispers, throwing out a hand and grasping onto something solid. His eyes widened at the plastoid pauldron, dripping with blood. 

A voice screamed to him, the voice of a clone crying out in pain.

Good soldiers follow orders.

Good soldiers follow orders.

Good soldiers follow orders.

Light seared through his shoulder and dragged him back, away from the scene. He gasped and stumbled, falling into the solid body next to him. 

“What was that?” Cody asked, dragging him to his side. “A vision?” 

“Something isn’t right,” Obi-Wan gasped, “Something’s wrong.” 

“What do you mean?” Cody turned, hands shifting up his sides and landing at his shoulders. 

Obi-Wan opened his mouth, but metal squawked as the doors slid open. Light poured into the cramped space, followed by intense annoyance. A Guard stood before them, glaring through his visor.

Red filled the spaces of his armor, drenching the man with phantom blood. It stuck to him as he tilted his head, revealing the white lines that created wings across his helmet. Just below the design, a guard stuck out from his helmet, shielding his visor. The style ended with the kamas hanging from his waist, clinging to the sides of his legs. 

“Commander Cody,” the man said, “High General, I was told that you’d be coming this way.” 

“We’re here for Fox,” Cody said. 

“He’s not here, so you’ll have to take up your emergency with me.” The clone crossed his arms and stepped to the side, sweeping his head toward the hall. “Follow me to the Commanding Office.”

“Thorn,” Cody said as he stepped into the hall, “We need to talk to Fox.” 

“He’s not here.” Thorn turned away from them. 

“Where is he?” Cody moved quickly after him, fingers clenching. 

“I’ll answer your questions after you answer mine.” 

Cody grunted, “Fine, but we’re on a tight schedule.” 

“So am I.” 

The quips faded into the background as Obi-Wan followed the two men, his eyes flickering to the surfaces that surrounded them. The dark grays and flickering lights loomed over him, shivering cold breath down his spine. Darkness clung to each wall, hanging to the corners and leaking downward. Eyes bored into his back, burning a hole through his chest, but he knew there would be no one if he turned to look. 

Obi-Wan tore his eyes away from the darkness, flickering them to the quivering beacon down the hall. Light shuttered out of an open door, bathed in yellows and oranges, shattered with lines of black and red. He took a breath as he looked above the door, catching the red design encased by a circle. 

Voices rose from the medical bay, barely audible over the shared quips between Cody and Thorn.

“Your memory loss isn’t unique, vod, ” a clone’s voice said, “You said you were patrolling the senate?” 

There was a shuffle of materials, before a reply, “That’s the last thing I remember.” 

“It’ll be added to your medical sheet and the commanders will be informed.”

Fear spiked within Obi-Wan’s chest, scratching at his chest as angry yellow flared in warning from the room. The second voice whispered, “But I don’t want to…”

“You don’t have to worry about that,” the first voice said, “The commanders have had blackouts too. Like I said, it isn’t unique.” 

The conversation cut off as a door wailed open, beating out any words that Obi-Wan could make out. Instead, he snapped his attention to the door and what lay beyond it. He could make desks and clutters of work inside the room, but more so the darkness pooling within. 

“Alright, this is it.” Thorn entered the room. “I’d invite you to take a seat, but engineering took the spares to repair them.” 

“What happened to them?” Obi-Wan stepped into the room, sweeping his eyes across the surfaces. 

Three desks sat in the room, each one taking up its own corner. File cabinets were shoved between them, creating lines across the walls and blocking the few windows in the room. Holoprojecters sat at each desk, with one hidden underneath a mountain of datapads. In fact, all of the desks were covered in datapads, though only one was straining under them. 

Like Thorn said, seating had been stripped from the room, except for the chairs shoved under the desks. 

“Overuse, apparently,” Thorn said. 

Cody sighed and crossed his arms. “Alright, Thorn, where’s Fox?” 

“Commander Fox is on a classified mission.” Thorn slid into his seat, pulling a datapad closer to him. 

Cody chuckled, tilting his head. “Classified for even a high general?” 

The comment didn’t land, Thorn forcing a smile onto his face as he said, “I would tell you if I could, but I don’t know anything about the mission.” 

“Even when it started?” Obi-Wan asked as silver specks appeared across Thorn’s armor, creating a static at the back of his head. 

“Well, it started nearly a rotation ago,” Thorn shrugged, angling his head as the visor of his helmet dipped. “I haven’t seen Fox since then, sir.”

The lie rolled over Obi-Wan’s gut, boiling his insides, but the silver expanded across Thorn’s armor. It trickled across the cracks and openings, sliding across his body glove. It created a protective layer around him, reflecting the light of the Force. The man leaned back, shoulders rolling as he straightened his back and rolled his neck. It wasn't an outright deception on Thorn’s part, there was truth to it, hidden in the gleams and shines. 

Obi-Wan pushed at it and let it guide him through his next questions. 

“You said this was the Commanding Unit’s Office.” Obi-Wan gestured around the room “There are only three desks, but four commanders?” 

“Commander Stone’s office is within the prison, it’s more efficient for his work,” Thorn replied. 

“He is in charge of the prison, I take it?” Obi-Wan asked. 

Thorn nodded. “Yes, sir.” 

Obi-Wan frowned and looked around the room, catching the varying piles across the desks and the darkness welling around. He took a breath, before looking back to the commander. 

“You’ll have to forgive me, I find myself quite ignorant about the structures of the Guard,” Obi-Wan said. 

“Are you asking what the Guard does, sir?” Thorn set the datapad down, his voice drawling. 

“Partly.” Obi-Wan smiled at him. “What do you and the other commanders do, if Commander Stone is in charge of the prison?” 

“I cover the senate and utilities,” Thorn explained, “Thire covers city patrols, the drunk tank, and other levels.” 

“And Fox?” Cody asked, glancing toward the desk in the far corner. 

“Everything, sir.” 

Obi-Wan’s eyes widened. “But how is that possible? Everything?” 

“Everything goes through him first before being delegated to me and the other commanders, sir. He takes care of the most important cases and situations.” 

“That seems like a lot for one man…” 

The silver turned yellow and the man sat up straighter, head tilting upward. “Commander Fox works well under pressure and performs to the highest of abilities. While my fellow commanders and I are here to lessen his load, so to speak, he is able to handle all of his duties well.” 

“It’s no worry, Commander.” Obi-Wan raised a hand, exuding solace and care into his voice. “I was just curious.” 

Thorn’s shoulder relaxed, barely noticeable before the man leaned against his desk. 

“What are you here for then?” He asked. “What is the emergency?” 

“Well, it has to do with Fox,” Obi-Wan replied, “Which is why we want to talk to him.” 

“Whatever you need to tell him, you can tell me.” 

“Actually, General Kenobi,” Cody said, breaking through, “We need to leave now if we’re to reach the Council Meeting on time.” 

“Convenient,” Thorn said. 

Cody glanced at the man, eyes softening for a moment. “Message me your questions, I’ll do my best to answer them.” 

Thorn raised an eyebrow. “You promise?” 

“As a vod , I promise.”

The commander sucked in a breath, before nodding and standing up. “Well, don’t leave the council waiting.” 

---

The council seats rounded the open ring, the background dropping slots of light from the windows. Only a few seats were filled, amounting to roughly half of the council members. Their Force Signatures hummed in tandem, a soft melody spiraling together and dispersing through the air. Warmth and comfort blanketed over Obi-Wan as he slid into his chair. 

His eyes flickered over the empty seats before darting to the figures standing in the middle of the room. Cody’s helmet hid the wandering of his eyes, but Obi-Wan could feel their fire crawling across his chest and face. His signature blinked with heat before snuffling down, disappearing underneath the plastoid as his head turned to the men next to him. 

As always, Mando’s beskar armor stifled any hint of his emotions and thoughts. They would escape at moments, unbidden and screaming for attention, but now he was a blip in the Force. So unlike the man standing next to him, whose signature burst forth and smeared light across the room. Luke’s aura beat in time with his heart, shifting and sprawling across surfaces surrounding. It brushed over the other signatures and collided with Obi-Wan’s, surrounding him with a light squeeze, like a hug. 

“Why were we summoned?” Depa Billaba asked, her eyes flickering across the men in front of them. 

Despite the warmth that exuded from the Council member, Billaba’s signature was like falling snow. It floated around her and cascaded down in waves. At times, the colors grew heavier and heavier, blocking any sight of her, and at others it was barely noticeable. She was the fire after a long hard day, the bonfire that smoked into the cold night and fought against the bitterness of snow. 

“We’re here to discuss a predicament,” Obi-Wan said to her.

“Most interesting and dire, it is,” Yoda hummed in his seat, “Give our ears to their situation, we must.”

“Commander Cody.” Obi-Wan turned to the clone commander, heart softening. “Please, can you introduce our guests?”

Without missing a beat, Cody waved his hand to the two men. “This is Master Djarin and Mando.” 

The Force fluctuated as the attention fell onto the two men, curiosity whispering and poking as they both stepped forward. 

Luke bowed his head, before looking back up at the Council. “We’ve traveled from another dimension, the same as your own but some years ahead.” 

“You’re looking for your way back then,” Mace Windu said. 

Purple hung from the man in the same way that his lightsaber hung from his belt. It held onto his shoulders and draped across him, a velvet curtain that hid the man’s inner thoughts. But sparks of pain fluttered around him, growing as his gaze shifted over Luke’s figure, and his lips drew back. 

A shatter point , Obi-Wan thought to himself, of course . 

He looked back at the younger Jedi, noticing the change in the man’s shoulders and the shifting of his feet. 

“Yes, but we believe that the only way to return is by changing the end of this war.” A strange look had fallen over Luke’s face, his brows pulling together and lips pursing. “Or at least changing its course.” 

“Explain what you mean,” Ki-Adi-Mundi stated, a frown crossing his face and his signature flickering with uncertainty. 

The blowing webs of his signature shuttered. They reached out across him, connecting him across the room and taking root into the walls. Colors caught onto them as they blew through, reacting to each notion that crossed the man’s mind. His eyes searched as he spoke, the webs moving as he did.

“The Sith are victorious in this war,” Luke replied to him, “Your belief about the Sith being involved behind the scenes is true. There is a Sith Lord in the senate.” 

A collective breath echoed through the room and a few members shifted in their seats. Obi-Wan felt gazes glance toward him, questions fluttering into the air and bounding toward him. As they shoved into his sides, he stared at the man in front of him and nodded. 

Go on, he urged down their bond. 

“Once the war ends, the Jedi will be targeted and massacred.” Luke gestured rapidly, lines crossing his face as his voice rose with each word. “In my time, the Jedi are but myth and legend, and by the time I was trained, much of what had been was lost. I only had the opportunity to train for a short amount.”  

Cold layered over the floor as the words rose, joining the questions. It bit at their toes. 

“You call yourself a Master, despite your lack of training?” Curiosity dripped across Billaba’s signature as she leaned forward, head tilting.

A spike of annoyance filtered through the air, smelling like steel and death. It only took a moment to realize that it had come from the Mandalorian, who stepped forward with his arms uncrossing. Danger flickered across the red that had bloomed, growing and growing. 

Until it stopped and vanished. 

Luke’s hand fell over Mando’s pauldron, rays of comfort flowing through the contact in bursts of greens and blues. Then he looked up, meeting Billaba’s gaze, and smiled. 

“I call myself Master due to the toils that I have survived, despite the fact I have not fulfilled the requirements of an Order that no longer exists,” Luke said. 

The cold snapped again, slipping into the tension that grew across the room. Taut with frozen rivets and dark fears, it spread across their force signatures and slammed into the walls. A chill ran up Obi-Wan’s spine as he breathed, drawing his signature closer to himself. 

That was when Kit Fisto first spoke, leaning across the tension and breaking it with a smile, “It makes sense that the Jedi would need to evolve to survive.” 

One word could describe the man’s signature: bubbles. They sprung up around him and popped, sometimes boiling over each other and sometimes sinking across the floor and vanishing. Now, the bubbles around him carried gold and humor, his smile growing as he looked at Luke. 

Fisto had always been a master at breaking tension, something that Obi-Wan felt the opposite of. 

“More importantly, is it really dire that we help you immediately?” Ki-Adi-Mundi spoke as he leaned back in his chair, an eyebrow-raising. “Surely, if we do not attack the Sith directly, then this Jedi massacre will not take place.” 

“It is dire.” Red dashed over Luke’s signature for the first time, creating thorns and spikes. His face furrowed, eyes turning dark as he looked toward the man. 

Somewhere, Obi-Wan had seen that look before. 

“How so?” Fisto asked.

His signature squirmed as his face contorted to raise an eyebrow and create a smirk. It reached across the room and pressed into the red colors, exposing areas of light and purple. Slowly the spikes wilted and a sigh left Luke’s lips as his shoulders slumped. 

Luke’s gaze dropped to the side and blue rose to the surface around him. Memories carried through, breathing their stories and voices as he thought. Then his face raised, blue eyes hardening.

“The Empire had more power than you know,” Luke said, “Just because they might not kill the Jedi, does not mean that they do not have the power to harm others.” 

“What do you mean?” Windu asked.

Another look came over Luke’s face, his mouth opening and closing, before he finally said, “It is easier to show you.” 

“You wish to share a memory?” Obi-Wan asked the younger Jedi.

He nodded and offered a hand. “If you can open your mind, I can show how much power the Empire really had.” 

“Well, I don’t see why not,” Obi-Wan chuckled. 

He reached out his own hand and reached forward through the Force. He felt his signature brush against Luke’s between them before it wrapped around and held on. The image of hands clinging to each other came to mind as he felt them connect, and then other hands began to join the image.

Bubbles pressed against his side and soaked into his skin. Wind blew past his ears and laughter joined his soul. Something draped over his shoulders, water reaching up to his shins. And still, the sensations grew. 

The connection burst forth, and his mind whispered his thoughts, ringing clearly across. 

The Force is everything.

Darkness descended upon him and engulfed the edges of his vision. Obi-Wan took a breath, letting it stream through him and relax his shoulders. Then light bloomed in front of him, small colorful squares that flickered into existence, overshadowed by shaking cockpit windows that dipped between floating asteroids. His hand gripped the back of a seat, his feet sliding across the floor. 

Confusion filled the forefront of his mind, his own and someone else’s. 

“ What’s going on? ” 

“ The position’s correct, except no Alderaan. ”

The conversation flickered, memories lost, but blending together as the picture divulged. 

“ Destroyed by the Empire. ” 

Obi-Wan’s eyes flickered to the side and his mind froze, taking in the sight of himself leaning over and gripping the pilot’s seat. White hair grew up the side of his face, short upon his head and along his beard. It did little to hide the wrinkles growing across his skin, the shallowing of his face, and the darkness that clung to his eyes. 

Yet there was a warmth that flooded from him, an ember of life. 

Then his eyes flickered away as another voice spoke and a scream filled the air, a ship flew forward that carried two vertical wings and a round cockpit. It darted forward and spiraled, the scream following each of its movements. 

“ ... short-ranged fighter… ” 

“... no base around here! ” 

Then the ship rocked and Obi-Wan’s grip tightened on the seat, fear creeping through his stomach as the floor jolted. Then their view twisted, the two pilots throwing their hands across the panels as they shouted out. Whatever they said was lost in memory, fading away as Obi-Wan’s eyes focused forward. 

A moon appeared, catching the light and growing closer. The mysteriously winged ship slashed through the air and gunned for the moon, screaming itself faint and growing smaller as it flew closer. As the moon moved closer. 

“ That’s no moon, it’s a space station .” 

And then the memory dropped. 

The council room blared to life as Obi-Wan’s eyes flew open, his hands gripping the edge of his seat and his shoulders drawing forward. 

Cold water sploshed around them, spreading across every surface and dumping over their clothes. More shivers racked Obi-Wan’s body as he looked around, noting the dazzled looks and frowns growing around him. 

“Well, I aged well.” He shifted in his seat, exuding comfort and warmth against the despair circling around the room. 

Fisto leaned into the lighter colors, chuckling under his breath. Yet, he took a breath and raised his head, eyes locking on to Luke. “What was that?” 

“That was the Death Star.” Luke’s hands folded in front of him, his right glove engulfing the skin of his left hand. “It destroyed Alderaan.” 

“That… that space station destroyed a planet?” Billaba asked, her voice falling as her eyes widened. 

Luke’s eyes snapped to her, searching the way her signature dipped and swallowed before he nodded his head. “The Empire wielded it to murder billions of people, those they claimed were traitors and the innocent people connected to them.”

It was fear that gripped the room, Obi-Wan knew. It gathered at the corners and fed into their minds, crawling for a sense of urgency and screaming with wails. It was something they were trained to let go of, to not let it control their actions. 

But only one person in the room took a breath and looked toward it, blinking at it as if it were an old friend. 

“A great purpose, Luke has.” Yoda tapped his cane against the floor, ears twitching as he sat up. It broke their attention, his words driving the growing fear back. “Help him, we will.” 

“But how? If we do not know the true identity of the Sith Lord?” Fisto asked, an unfamiliar anxiety flooding his signature as his gaze swept toward the windows. 

“Perhaps by answering my questions or aiding where I ask you to,” Luke replied to him, “I know who the Sith Lord is, but I’ll need help to stop him.” 

“That has been the arrangement that Master Djarin and I have found ourselves in,” Obi-Wan added. 

The gazes fell over him again, questions whispering underneath the surface. Yet, he only leaned back in his chair, crossing his legs as he nodded to Luke once more. 

“Who is this Sith Lord?” Ki-Adi-Mundi asked. 

Luke shook his head. “It’s better that you don’t know at this moment, because he’ll use that knowledge against you.” 

“Do you have an idea where you need to start then?” Billaba asked.

“I need access to the senate building, I want to be able to know more about what is happening with the Sith Lord daily.” Luke met her gaze as his hands folded in front of him.

“You can work alongside the Coruscant Guard,” Windu suggested. 

The words darted through Obi-Wan’s head, spreading frozen liquid across his chest. The chair beneath him squeaked as he sat up. His force signature blared like a warning light.

He leaned forward, fingers curling over the arms of his chair. “Actually, I believe that might not be the best idea.”

“Why is that?” Fisto asked. 

“Commander Cody and I visited the Coruscant Guard today,” Obi-Wan explained, “We were investigating Commander Fox’s whereabouts, due to the fact that none in the GAR had heard from him in over a week's time.” 

Fisto blinked, the curves of his face softening as he met Obi-Wan’s gaze. 

“Did you find him?” He asked, allowing his signature to float once more. 

Obi-Wan frowned. “No, instead we were told that he was on a classified mission that started yesterday.” 

“But you said that he’s been missing for a week, not since yesterday,” Billaba said.

“Precisely, I believe that the Guard is attempting to protect themselves somehow,” he replied, “And that they don’t know where their Commander is either.”

“Connected to the Sith Lord, you think,” Yoda commented. 

“The Guard Headquarters connects directly to the Senate Building, it would be easy to spread the dark side through the clones there.” Obi-Wan looked at the Grand Master, noting the sinking forms around the yellows of his signature. “I noticed the Dark Side while I was there, clinging to the walls and lurking in the corners.” 

Another chill filled the room, aiding the darkness sliding in. 

“How did we not notice this before?” Billaba asked. 

“The Guard has no Jedi.” Cody stepped forward, his voice raising to catch their attention. “There is no way that you could have known.” 

The words settled over Obi-Wan and his mind fell still, something rocked in place at the back of his mind. An idea, barely forming, but planting the seeds for its future. 

“Perhaps the Sith Lord is behind Commander Fox’s disappearance,” Fisto said.

Luke stepped forward, his gaze flickering toward Cody as he spoke, “If that’s the case, then finding the Commander could reveal parts of his plan.” 

“How are you supposed to find a single clone on a planet covered in them?” Fisto turned to him, gesturing with a hand. “Let alone a planet this big.” 

“I can do it.” 

Mando stepped forward, the suddenness of his voice echoing through their signatures. His helmet twisted as he looked at each of them, visor scanning over the surface. Then his weight shifted and he tilted his head, falling into an expectant stance.

“What?” Obi-Wan asked. “You…?” 

The Mandalorian nodded, fingers twitching as his gaze snapped to him. “I am a bounty hunter, I can find your missing Commander.” 

“Sure, are you?” Yoda asked. 

“He was able to find Jedi in our time,” Luke replied as another spike of annoyance flared, “People doing everything they can to hide in a single galaxy, far larger than any planet.” 

Cody turned to Mando, helmet nodding and voice rising. “I will tell you everything that I can about Commander Fox, but you must find him.” 

“I will,” Mando promised, “on my Creed.” 

Chapter Text

“You’re not going to be able to wear your armor,” Kenobi said as they settled inside a Temple room, “The Coruscant Guard isn’t going to let a Mandalorian walk into their Headquarters.” 

Going without his armor would be like skinning his bones, leaving nothing but the vulnerable white slots that could be so easily cracked. His mind reeled against the thought, throwing alarms and anger forward. Everything in him fought to counter that argument, to find a way that he could remain in his skin. 

But the more that Din thought, the more that he understood the older Jedi was right. 

The first step to finding Fox was locating the last place that he had been, which was most likely the Coruscant Headquarters. If that were true, then there had to be evidence left behind that pointed in the direction he went. He needed clues, evidence, anything, that could point him in the right direction. 

Grogu’s eyes flashed across his mind, ears rising and his head tilting. An ache filled his soul as he thought about his son, clearing through his soul. His son ran around his mind every day, venturing through his hours and days, exploring his conversations. As each day passed, from the last day on Arduj to the first day on Coruscant, Din had thought about his son. 

Only hours earlier, he had sent a message about the small green child.

Din: Luke never told me about Master Yoda’s species. 

Sinker: Odd comment, but I’m pretty sure no one knows what his species is

Boost: Apparently, they’re very rare and only one other one is known about

Soren: But she died a few years ago.

Attention: I wonder if they come in different colors. 

Din: My son is the same species as Master Yoda.

Boost: Excuse me?

Wolffe: YOU SAID HE EATS FROGS

Boost: Oh my god Yoda EATS FROGS?

Wolffe: I swear to ka’ra, everything I learn about yoda is against my will

Wolffe: is your son green too?

Din: Yes and he is fifty years old.

Multiple people are typing…

Numerous moments had passed by him like that. They had sunk into his bones, reminding him of the space between him and his son. It grew each day, bordering on pain, and the only person who could relate was his husband. 

Even then, Luke had so much else to worry about. 

If he wanted to return home, to hold his son and husband together in his arms once more, he had to find Fox. 

“Alright, what should I wear?” Din asked, tipping his visor toward Kenobi. 

The man considered, his eyes darting toward the ceiling, but then he smirked and said, “You should dress like a Jedi.” 

Before Din could reproach that statement, his husband grumbled on his behalf, “He needs to cover his face.”

Luke’s comment flickered across his heart, dancing dangerously toward his stomach. Part of him melted at the care the man showed, but another wanted to pull him closer and pull more of that possessive attitude out. 

Either way, he nodded and added, “It’s important to me.” 

“A temple guard then…” Kenobi raised a hand to his chin. “They wear helmets, they’re Jedi too.” 

“That works.” Din nodded. 

“I’ll go retrieve a set.” 

The Jedi Master left the room, his footsteps echoing before being cut off by the sliding door. Quietness filled the wake of the room, leaving only three people behind. 

Din shifted closer to his husband, brushing their shoulders together, before letting his gaze drift over to Cody. The marshal commander stood with his arms crossed, while his face was hidden underneath his helmet. His shoulders pulled together and one of his feet tapped against the ground, counting the seconds as minutes passed by. 

Even without his helmet, Din could see the tension, the frustration, and the anxiety, growing through the man’s skin and covering his being. 

“What do you need to know about Fox?” Cody eventually asked. 

Din turned to him. “Not much, when did he go missing?” 

“We’re not sure, but between a week and two weeks ago,” Cody admitted. 

“Tell me about his job,” Din said, before adding, “He works here, he must have extensive knowledge of Coruscant.” 

“He definitely does.” A look passed over Cody’s face, softening his eyes and teasing the edges of his lips. He looked fond, as if remembering something. “Sometimes it feels like he knows everything that is happening on this planet.” 

Din nodded again, letting his mind wander back through the possibilities. Fox likely knew the planet better than anyone else, which meant he knew where to hide and how to escape. Finding people in their element was never easy, but he had done it before. 

“Don’t underestimate him,” Cody warned, “He earned top scores on Kamino, I doubt he’s let his skills slip since then.” 

“I understand,” Din grunted. 

The door slid open with a loud hiss, drawing their attention. Kenobi stepped through a moment later, balancing a bag on one of his shoulders. He smirked at them and nodded, before waving a hand. 

“I got them, hopefully, it fits.” He stepped across the room, pulling a table away from a corner. Then he set the back on top, opening it and nodding.

“Do you need privacy?” He asked. 

“Yes.” Din glanced at his husband. “Luke can stay.” 

A look popped up between Kenobi and Cody, their eyes glinting as it was shared and their mouths pulling wide. At that moment, understanding appeared across their faces and wove deep into their minds. 

Something like glee passed over Cody’s shoulders as his eyes flickered back to them, his head rising and smile deepening. He nudged Kenobi with his own shoulder, wrapping an arm around him and turning them back toward the door. 

Cody called over his shoulder, a smirk crawling over his face. “Just knock when you’re done!” 

“Take your time,” Kenobi added. 

The door slid shut behind them and the room fell quiet, erasing traces of conversation and life. A sigh rolled through Din as he shook his head before he approached the open back. 

White armor peeked from inside, intricate lines of gray and gold stretching across and carving into it. Their weight heaved in his hands, familiar and uncomfortable, likely made of steel. Beneath them, fabrics sat folded inside the bag. They joined with traces of gold, gray, and white, but their familiar shine told of metal woven into them. 

He set them across the table, looking across them, before reaching for his helmet. 

“Wait.” Luke appeared next to him, pressing a hand to his pauldron and turning him. “Let me.” 

The Jedi’s fingers found the edge of his helmet a moment later, digging into the seal and releasing it with a sharp hiss. The air whined and then huffed as the helmet was lifted from his head, his curls bounced against his forehead and the cold air rushed against his warm skin. Colors burst across his vision, no longer stained by the hue of his visor, and his husband’s blue eyes lit up. 

“There you are,” Luke said. 

Din leaned forward, pressing their foreheads together. “You see me all the time.” 

“I do, I love you.” Luke smiled, pushing his forehead forward before leaning back. “Let me take off the rest.” 

“Please,” Din whispered. 

Taking his armor off was a ritual, something that he rarely ever did. Vulnerable feelings arose whenever he did, whether it was to clean the pieces or not. Those feelings, love, safety, fear, nervousness, amplified when his husband took his armor off for him. It carved their connection deeper, creating a stronger bond that flowed between them, and clung tightly to each of their souls. 

His heart hammered with each item his husband removed, his eyes following the curves of his fingers and the careful ways they moved. Luke treated each piece with love, respect, and awe, and it made Din melt inside and out. 

When he finally took off the last piece, a shin guard, and set it on the table, Din could only manage to speak one word. 

“Thanks,” he whispered. 

Luke smiled at him as he rose to his full height. “It’s no problem.” 

“I love you,” Din said, letting his head fall forward and knock against Luke’s again. 

His husband chuckled, his jaw catching the light. Strands of thin short hair poked against the light, growing over his chin and across his jawline. They began to reach up the sides of his mouth and toward the bottoms of his ears. Without his helmet, he could make each one of them out. 

“You’re growing stubble,” he commented. 

“Well, I haven’t found the time to shave,” Luke replied, “Does it look bad?” 

“No, not at all.” Din snorted and pulled back, raising his hand and gliding his fingers over the struggling hair. “Perhaps you should grow it out, and see how it looks.” 

“Grogu would have a stroke,” Luke laughed, “But maybe… First, let’s get you into your disguise.” 

With both of them, it took only a few minutes to unravel the mysteries of Jedi Guard armor. How the fits of robes melded into the armor, how they accented each other, and how each piece fit perfectly. They wrapped around Din’s skin, hiding it completely, and wiping away his figure beneath. The armor hugged him while the robes shifted around him, almost floating in the air if it weren’t for their weight. 

“Before we go, remember, the Force sent us here for a reason,” Luke said.

“The Force doesn’t speak to me the way that it does you.” He replied, giving his husband a look.

Luke snorted, raising a hand to cover his mouth. “Yes, I suppose you are as Force-sensitive as a rock.” 

The smile on his face was interrupted by a small chime; a new message coming through his commlink. 

Wolffe: Cody told me that you’re going to find Fox for us. 

Din: Yes.

Wolffe: Slap him for me

A snort racked through him, his husband shooting him an amused look before nudging him forward. 

“Come on,” Luke said, “Time to go.” 

But before he could follow, one more message popped up. 

Wolffe: Plo says good luck

---

The helmet blocked most of Din’s vision, which didn’t help as they were guided through the Guard’s Headquarters. He kept close to his husband, brushing their fingers together and glancing toward him. His dark golden hair guided him through the gray corridors, acting as a floating beacon. Every so often, there would be a tug against his arm, and they would twist toward a corridor or another hallway. 

Just beyond Luke was his former master, walking through with his head high and his shoulders lowered. His tan robes stuck out like a sore thumb, another feature that Din used to guide his way. He talked to the two Guardsmen in front of them, smoothing over their conversation and smiling. 

“I didn’t realize that the Guard had mastiffs,” he said, “His name is Grizzer?”

“That’s right, the best trooper that we have,” one of the Guard’s said. 

Though Din couldn’t see the mastiff, he could hear its feet slap against the ground and its nose sniffing the air. It walked right in front of him, likely at the side of its trainer. 

“Sergeant Hound is in command of our mastiff unit,” the second clone said, who had introduced himself as Thorn said. 

Kenobi hummed, “That must be an entertaining job.” 

“Of course, sir.” 

The conversation halted as a door slid open and they stepped inside, revealing a darker setting with buzzing lights and cramped walls. The Commanding Office was as tiny and cluttered as Kenobi has described, with very little room to move. Through the tiny visor, he could make out three desks and two guest chairs. 

“I see you have the chairs back,” Kenobi mused. “Can we sit?” 

“Please do.” Thorn nodded. “Engineering was quick.”

Both of the Jedi moved the seats, repositioning them to look toward one of the desks. The clambering allowed Din to survey the room further, scanning over the equipment and technology attached to the desks. There was a mainframe at the end of each desk, attaching screens and datapads together. The lines converged and disappeared over the side, connecting to a larger system. 

“I’m sorry there aren’t enough seats,” Thorn said, catching Din’s attention. 

He shook his head at the Guard and made a waving motion with his hand, before sliding closer to the wall and turning against it. He leaned back and slid down the wall, before coming to a seat on the floor, right next to the desk’s mainframe. 

Both Guards stared at him before their helmets slowly turned back to Kenobi and Luke. 

“Is this about Fox again?” Hound asked. “We did try to see about his mission, but there is still nothing that we can access to tell you.” 

“No, this isn’t about him,” Kenobi replied. “Another matter, actually.” 

“What is that?” Thorn asked. 

As Kenobi replied, Din worked a splicer into his hand. 

“It’s come to the Council’s attention that the Coruscant Guard does not have a Jedi,” he said. 

“We’ve been able to function without one,” Thorn replied. 

“Yes, you have.” Din inserted the tool into the mainframe, moving as quietly and silently as possible. “And amazingly well, I’ve seen that alone from escort reports.”

“Why do we need a Jedi then?” Hound asked, part of his voice sounding hostile. He must have realized that, as he added, “Not that… not to be offensive, I’m just curious.” 

“It’s not about improving the Guard, but rather creating a better cohesion between the GAR and Guard.” Din felt the click of his tool and smirked, letting it download the data onto a disk. “But also, if I’m being frank, creating a barrier between the Guard and the Senate.” 

“Why would you need to do that?” Thorn asked, his voice carrying a bit darker. 

“Corruption is commonplace among political spheres, we don’t want that to cause poor treatment to fall upon you.” Din kept still, letting Kenobi continue to distract the men. “I would have liked to have realized that you were without a Jedi sooner, but I didn’t until hours ago.” 

“So who are you assigning to us then?” 

“A temporary assignment at the moment, until a permanent one becomes available.” Kenobi turned and nodded to Luke, just in time for Din to hide the splicer up his sleeve. 

“I’m Master Luke Djarin, but please call me by my first name.” Luke bowed in his seat. “I will call you whatever you like in return.” 

The two Guards straightened, their helmets turning to each other before looking back at Luke. Their postures quivered for a moment, before Thorn pressed his hands against his desk. 

“You’ll be our general then, sir?” He asked. 

“It seems so.” Luke blinked, eyes widening, before he smiled awkwardly. “If possible, a tour of your headquarters and operations today will suffice.”

“We can do that, General.” Thorn crossed his arms. “The Senate rotunda is currently in session, it would be easier to tour that part tomorrow.” 

“Tomorrow then,” Luke agreed, “Everything else today.” 

Kenobi stood from his chair and turned to Din, nodding to him. “Could you let the Council know that we’ll be busy here?” 

Din jolted but nodded. 

Stares burned through the armor as he stood up, awkwardly regaining his composure before turning and leaving. The mastiff huffed at the door as he passed, scratching its scales. 

---

Putting his armor back on was a relief, like breathing fresh air for the first time in hours. He sank into the feeling that it gave him, the strength that surrounded him, and the protection it wielded. With a breath, he connected the HUD to the data disk and flicked through the schedules, the messages, and everything else that he had been able to grab. 

Most of it was garbage, Din realized as he skimmed through them and walked back into Coruscant’s streets. He sighed to himself, finally opening the videos. 

There was no audio and the image quality paled in comparison to others, but it was usable. He sped the footage up as he walked, scanning the time stamp in the corner until a week had passed. Then he slowed the footage back down and stopped walking, stepping to the side to focus on the figures walking through the footage. 

The Coruscant Guards wore the same style, the same paint, and hid together in a mass. It was a protective sheet that wrapped around them, making it impossible to tell one clone from the next. Everyone was the same, except for the Commanders and Officers. 

Their visors and kamas gave them away, the differences marking their styles of paints stand out and created targets across their backs. Thorn’s armor had white toward the top and Hound’s had grays that mixed in, both of them wore kamas and had visors. 

That’s how Din spotted Commander Fox in the footage, covered in head to toe with red. His armor commanded authority as he walked down the corridor, shifting the men that walked around him. It took more flicks of skimming the footage, charting his path and habits, before finding the last footage. 

Fox stumbled across a darkened corridor and leaned into the wall, pain flared across his posture as he breathed and struggled. But then he was pulling himself up into a straightened pose. He held his chest high for a moment, leaning his helmet back, before stepping forward and marching down the hall. 

Something dark trickled down his armor, staining across the floor and leaving prints in his wake. It gleamed in the light, a dark and bright red.

Blood, Din thought, He’s injured. 

The commander turned into a room, the door sliding shut behind him, and the footage continued. Hours passed, turning into days, and the man never reappeared. Instead, numerous other officers dip in and out of the room, including Thorn. 

The footage vanished as Din cracked his back, dismissing the information and turning back toward the streets. His feet carried him through the crowds and waves of people, his mind pulling him toward his next target. 

If he had to heal himself, he would have to get rid of the evidence as well, and there are few places that would work. 

He found himself dipping behind the Guard’s Headquarters and sliding down a level. An alleyway appeared, dark, hidden, and covered in trash. He picked his way through the mess and stepped around questionable liquids, all while his HUD flickered to life and grasped onto the surroundings. 

It caught a specific trash chute and amplified it, the warning light blinking in yellow. Old blood stained the edge of the chute and marked a path down it. 

Din approached with a grimace and held back a groan, realizing that the chute was roughly the size of two people. He went down the kriffing chute, didn’t he?

Annoyance and resignation flared in his chest, the thought ricocheting in his head. Then he took a breath and grabbed the edge of the chute, hauling himself over and down before he could second guess himself. 

---

He wasn't sure how many hours had passed as he swept through cantinas and markets, picking his way through the crowds of people and scanning for anything. The trail of blood had ended at the bottom of the trash chute, wiped away by something that smelled horrid. Instead, his only hope had become the level that he had ended up on. But Coruscant’s levels were huge and he knew it would take nearly a week to canvas it completely. 

It was all that he had and it led him to his current predicament: sneaking into another cantina. He slipped through the back door and stepped into the hallway, letting the lack of light conceal him as he moved forward. Chatter screamed at him from down the hall, combined with music and the clinks of dishware. He followed the noises but stopped short of entering the larger room. 

Mando’a filtered through his helmet, sweeping past him as someone grew closer to the hallway. He took a step back, but the sound halted as another person spoke up. 

“I don’t speak whatever that is,” the voice said, “Basic or Huttese, nothing else.” 

The music played through and Din stepped forward, peering into the chaos. His eyes swept over the people before he spotted a pale red helmet of a man with his back to him. He stood next to a booth, leaning against it, and balancing on one foot. 

“You heard about a murder?” The Mandalorian asked a man in the booth. 

“One at the transports,” the man replied, “That’s bad news.” 

The Mandalorian glanced toward the entrance, before scooting closer. “The transports are off-limits.” 

“Seems like whoever killed the poor pilot didn’t care.” The man took a drink, tipping it back, “People are getting afraid.” 

“I see,” the Mandalorian said and straightened up, “When was this?” 

“Dunno, like a week ago.” 

The Mandalorian stepped away, turning toward the front of the room. “Ret’urcye mhi.” 

“Yeah, reterchi me to you too, or whatever…” 

Din ducked back out of sight, sliding backward into the hallway. He turned on his heel and slid back into the shadows, exiting the backdoor. The street lights flickered as he passed them and he closed his eyes for a moment. 

It could be him, he thought, even if it isn’t, it’s worth checking out. 

The Guard’s map popped up on his HUD, flickering in and out before the word TRANSPORTS lit up in red. It flew the location and zoomed in, flickering through lists of information and identifications at the area. Two things listed to the side, murder off limits and illegal off-planet transportation, made Din sigh. 

It was two levels up, roughly five hundred paces from where he stood. 

He felt eyes shift onto him, lighting up his instincts and forcing him to move. His feet carried him forward and pushed him along, following the map across his HUD. He ducked into an alleyway and disappeared up the next level, taking to the shadows. His path winded through the buildings and under gateways, before launching himself up another level. 

In five minutes, he had made it.

The transports had two tracks running through the sides, creating a barrier on two sides of the building. The larger hangar was in the middle, open with a larger roof that rose numerous levels before opening into the sky. Small ships sat dispersed across the floor, their engines open and parts scattered. On the far end were glass windows carved into a large wall, broken in one spot by an open door. 

An office. 

Din crossed the hangar and ducked into the room, scanning inside before sliding forward. It was small, crowded, and overflowing with junk. He picked his way across it before reaching a large screen that flickered on as he stood above it. 

Security system. 

He scanned the technology, taking in the buttons, and the letters written across the sides. The buttons clicked underneath his hands, sticking into the technology before jumping outward. The screen changed and shifted, flickering past images and shimmering in turn. After a minute of playing with it, he figured it out and pulled out the older footage. 

It was laughable how easy it was to find what he was looking for. 

The audio crackled, their voices bobbing in and out. 

“...trying to get to Arduj?” The pilot’s head tilted. 

The clone stared. “As soon as possible.” 

“Sorry pal, but Arduj is…” His voice sank out of the audio, his hands moving as he spoke. “So, yeah, not happening.” 

“You will take me,” the clone said. 

The pilot uncrossed his arms, eyes narrowing as his hands hovered over his belt. The handles of the blaster stuck out from his pants, unhidden by the fabric of his shirt. “Listen here, meat droid, I’m not taking you to Arduj.” 

“Then I’ll find someone else.” 

The clone was quicker than the pilot, the light of his blaster blaring across the video and fading. A round hole opened through the pilot’s chest and he stumbled backward, before collapsing to the ground. 

Din closed the video and leaned away from the screen. Holes burned across his back as he stood up and instincts blew to the front of his mind, tightening around his muscles. Fire ran the course of his nerves and dragged him out of the office, pushing him forward. 

Watched, followed, watched, followed.

The words repeated across his mind as he left the hangar, as he left the transports behind. His mind reeled as he ducked back into the streets, as he felt the gaze grow deeper on his back. 

He knows we’re here. 

…trying to get to Arduj?

Fox was trying to leave for Arduj. 

Whether it was to kill them or to warn them, Din didn’t know. 

---

There was a glint across the alley’s metal and his feet were moving, spinning his body and throwing himself forward. An arm threw up, light blinded his visor, and the ding of a blaster bolt filled the air. It burned through his eyes as it faded, ricocheting to the side, but the noise rang through his helmet as he scrambled back. 

A figure lunged forward through the fading light, carved in white and shadows. Dangers flared across Din’s instincts and threw his body into rhythm. His feet slid into form, rooting him to the metal flooring, and his shoulders dipped forward with his head diving. 

Pain rattled through his body as his shoulder met the man’s side, armor slammed into armor and screamed its grievances. The sound buzzed through his fingers as he turned and caught the man’s arm. 

The white armored man looked down at him, a clone. 

Time flew away and the fight began. 

Fox broke the hold and swung, an opening falling shut as his stance shifted. The punch grazed across Din’s vambraces, creating sparks where the metal armors clipped. It shadowed the second punch sent toward his chest, angling toward his gut. 

With a swinging arc, Din knocked the hit away and stepped backward. 

Memories woven into his muscles drove him through this fight. They pounded into his spirit, creating experience and instincts that guided his actions and his thoughts. Hours had gone into making him, years of pounding metal, bracing sweat, and drying blood to create the perfect weapon. 

The same reflected upon the man in front of him. Movements flashed through him before he did and guided him into the next step, falling into a harness rhythm that few could grasp. Each step neared perfection and each movement drowned in practice, rippling in forms that had been repeated until they were perfected, and then some. 

Yet, that wasn’t surprising. 

Conversations flooded through his mind as he blocked the next punch and dealt a kick of his own. Hours spent on the Negotiator, crawling into the late evening and spreading across days. With so little possible, there were only a few things outside his daily routine that could beat back the boredom. 

Wolffe: We spend years on Kamino training, but that doesn’t mean we don’t stop. 

Din: I’ve seen the training room. 

Wolffe: Find an ARC or have Cody tell you about the more intensive shit, all commanders go through it

Din: So you could tell me? 

Wolffe: Yeah, but ask Cody, mir’sheb

Din: Why? 

Wolffe: He might give you a demonstration 

And a demonstration he had given. Punches left bruises across his neck and down his back, kicks creating dark marks across his shins and knees. His body had ached and screamed, as if it had been the first time he had trained. 

Din had gone back the next day for more. 

Fighting was in his religion.

And everything he learned from those days, those hours, were practices honed into commanders across the clone army. They sprung forward and darted back, they punched and kicked, they wielded their weight, and they never slowed down. Their feet bounced to keep them moving and their shoulders shifted, throwing them from one movement to the next. 

Fox was that and more, he was faster. 

Far faster than Cody. 

Fast enough that his next move landed a hit. 

The heel of his boot collided with Din’s chest plate and shoved through. Air escaped out of his lungs as the pain flared and his feet slipped, the world tilting. Then his back hit the ground, his helmet clanging against the metal. Wheezes escaped him before a shadow loomed across him, footsteps growing closer. 

Din cursed and kicked out, slamming his boot against the clone’s shin. A crack echoed through the air and Fox dropped, a gasp of air filtering through his helmet before his knee slammed into beskar. 

“Fox.” Din twisted as the man jolted and grabbed onto his arms, wrestling for control. “Fox!” 

The man grunted and grappled, twisting the fight into turns and rolls. His fingers grasped around the armor and his arms pulled, before pushing over the ground and nailing Din against boxes. They tipped over, empty drinks tumbling out and shattering across the ground. Glass crunched underneath as they scrambled across the alleyway, intertwining with the clashes and pain echoing. 

The clone commander scrambled to stand and yank the beskar armor with him, but he barely moved to a knee when Din struck. His elbow collided against the man’s neck and sent him staggering, his fingers loosening and his back arching away from him. The white of his cuirass gleamed, an open target, and it whined under the pressure of a pushed kick. 

Space appeared before them as Fox rolled to his side, catching himself against a near wall. His armor shuddered as he took in breath after breath, covered in cuts and scrapes. Blood soaked through his shin guard, covering his boot, exactly where Din had kicked him.

Is it broken? Din wondered, forcing himself to push backward and deepen the space between them. He wouldn’t be able to stand if it was broken…

But Fox rose to his feet, swaying and grimacing. His stance shifted and leaned to his right, favoring the foot that was blood-free. 

Metal collided against Din’s hand and spun away from him, ringing across the floor with a sharp song. He glanced down at the shape, taking in the long form and the dented head. Cracks formed across the bottom of the cylinder, stained with a black substance. 

Din didn’t want to kill Fox. 

He picked up the pipe and rose to his feet, twirling it in his hand before raising it in front of him. 

“Good soldiers follow orders,” Fox said. 

“What?” Din asked. 

Fox darted forward, blood squelching from his boot, and pain writhing through his body. His fist hurtled through the air, but Din sidestepped and swung the pipe. It grazed down the man’s shoulder as his body twisted, feet dancing across the ground. 

With each swing, each jab, the man shimmied out of the way and dispersed. His feet floated over the ground, his body swirling and swaying. If the swing went high, the man would duck. If the pipe jabbed low, the man stepped to the side. 

If anything, it kept him from attacking. 

But then his weight shifted to his left foot and the metal pipe whacked home against his shoulder. 

Din’s frustrations wiped away as he shot forward again, molding himself into Luke’s lunges, and swung across the man’s chest. The pipe caught the edge of his cuirass, knocking it askew and ripping the plastic latch apart. 

The man caught himself against the wall again, steadying his shaking body with a hand. A pile of trash grew to one side of him and on the other a door, likely locked from the inside. His visor tilted as he took in each side, before turning and glaring down the alley. 

“I don’t want to kill you,” Din said as their gazes met. 

Fox grunted and raised his fists. 

“Please, Fox.” Din raised the pipe again. “Cody is worried about you.” 

“Good soldiers follow orders.” 

I don’t know what that means. 

The pipe gleamed in the light as Din rushed forward. He swung it into a jab and aimed for the clone’s cuirass once again, eyeing the skewed opening that had been created. 

But Fox moved faster, body twisting and hands reaching out. They wrapped around something, hidden in the piles of trash, and yanked. They dragged the object in front of him, a board covered in stars on a black background. Blackwood splintered as the pipe burst through it, lodging into the side and twisting. 

The board twisted as Fox moved and it ripped the pipe from Din’s grasp. 

The wood and metal clattered to the floor, tossed to the side as the clone sprung forward and slammed his palm against Din’s helmet. He jolted backward as the man swung at him again, their fight dissolving back into fists and feet. 

Echoes of pain flooded through his bones and muscles, curling up his sides and strangling his lungs. Each breath hurt, drawing blood into his throat and spreading it across his skin. He hissed against the flavor, pushing down the raw agony beginning to wear down on him. His fingers twisted deeper in his gloves, he could imagine them beginning to wear holes across the leather. Sharp spikes erupted through his joints, coupling in feet, and joining the micro-sized scrapes gleaming through his skin. 

Somehow, glass always found a way into his flight suit. 

Blood smeared across his visor as Fox’s fist smashed across, cracks echoing through the air as the man’s hand broke on contact. Din felt himself wince, but the man didn’t stop as he rushed forward and drew the hand back to deliver another blow. 

The punch went wide as Din turned, letting it pass over his shoulder. His hand darted out as the man staggered onto his left foot. His fingers wrapped around the back of his neck, digging into the open skin underneath the sealed helmet, and his body twisted. 

Din guided and yanked the man forward, slamming him head-first into the wall. The smack echoed through the alley, followed by the sound of shattering glass. The sound shot a flare of worry up his spine, his fingers dropping away and his feet stepping back. 

Fox’s body quivered and stumbled. Then his hand reached up to grab the edge of his helmet and his fingers slid across his chin. The seal hissed and the helmet fell off, clattering to the ground in two pieces with the visor’s glass scattering. 

The safety on Din’s blaster flicked underneath his thumb, creating a loud snap. 

The clone commander jolted and turned to him, eyes narrowing. There was a cut across his forehead, a scar across his nose, and branches that climbed up his throat. 

Fox glared at him, shoulders rising and blood trickling across his forehead. “Who the osik are you?” 

Din stunned him. 

---

Din dragged Fox from his fallen position, sitting him and leaning him against his body. With his muscle mass and armor, the marshal commander was not a light man. His heaviness pressed into joints and nearly crumbled his body as he was moved, making it almost easy to topple both of them. 

For a moment, Din was grateful that the man hadn’t fallen on him after being stunned. 

He opened his comm, connecting to the nearest person that he could. 

“Sitrep?” Cody asked over the comm. 

“Need you now, sending the coordinates.” 

After that, he leaned back against the alley wall and supported Fox’s weight against him. The commander’s head lulled backward and slammed into his pauldron, blood dripping faster from his forehead. It was the first time that he could get a clear picture of the man’s face. 

Of course, Fox was a clone and was nearly the spitting image of Boba Fett, but he differed enough. His skin was a shade darker except for the scars that cut across his nose and near his chin. They were jagged, as if someone had taken glass to his face. Then there were the scars branching up his neck and poking at his jaw. 

Lightning marks, just like the ones that ran across Luke’s torso and arms. 

Din’s stomach turned as he looked at them, connecting the dots inside his head. This was the marshal commander of the Coruscant Guard, this person reported directly to the chancellor, to Palpatine. 

Nearly an hour had passed when he heard footsteps rushing toward him, the sound of heavy armor and reinforced boots. 

“What happened?” Cody rushed forward and dropped to a knee next to him. His hands darted forward and slid across Fox’s neck, before carding through his hair and holding him up. Panic sped through his movements as he looked over his brother’s face, taking in the scars and flecks of blood. 

His body froze, hung on a string, as his eyes caught sight of the lightning-shaped scars crawling up his neck. 

“Had to stun him.” Din nudged the commander out of his stupor. “He attacked me.” 

“He attacked you?” Cody whispered. “Oh, Fox’ika, ni ceta, Fox’ika…” 

He turned and dragged half of his brother’s weight against him, rising to his feet and dragging Din with them. His arm circled around the armor, clenching at the torso, and created a protective barrier. He let out a huff, beginning to move and stumble forward. 

“We’re taking him to Helix,” he said, “I told Luke and Obi-Wan that we’d meet them there.” 

The image of the clone medic floated through Din’s memories and he grunted, nodding his head. Then he took half of Fox’s weight and began to move forward, letting his feet fall in line with Cody’s as the gray-steel world faded away. 

Distantly, he remembered one more thing to do. 

Din: We got him. 

Wolffe: Sitrep.

Din: Later, taking him to Helix first.

Wolffe: You fucking better, Din.

Din dropped his hand and glanced back at Cody. Worried lines crawled up his face and clung to the edges of his eyes, pronouncing his age. His eyes darted between his brother and the path forward. His free hand shifted from his side and cupped Fox’s head, supporting it as it lulled and forcing his body to walk sideways. 

“Cody,” Din said. 

“What?” Cody asked. 

“He wasn’t in his right mind.” Din looked away, not able to meet the man’s eyes. “He kept repeating one phrase.” 

There was a beat, and then Cody asked, “What phrase?” 

“Good soldiers follow orders.” 

They fell back into silence, letting it wrap around them as they moved through the man-made planet’s environment. They climbed up numerous stairs, took lifts, and circled around areas. Dangerous criminals paraded around the lower levels, watching them and smirking as they passed. But it was the higher levels that set Din on edge. 

The Coruscant Guard fell into regular patrols, scanning every surface and person as they passed. It was unlikely that they wouldn’t recognize their commander if Cody and Din, that would likely start nothing but trouble as well. So they took to the shadows and terminals, hiding against walls and slipping down roads when they were clear. 

It took longer to get back to the GAR’s headquarters and back on a shuttle, rising to the Negotiator.

Even then, many troopers of the 212th looked twice as they passed. 

“What happened?” Helix demanded the moment they stepped into the medical bay. 

Cody took Fox’s weight and stumbled toward a bed. As he rolled his brother onto the medical bed, securing him against it, he said, “Mando found Fox, got into a fight with him, and had to stun him.” 

“So he’ll be waking up any minute,” Helix said sarcastically, “Perfect.” 

The medic flew to Fox’s side and elbowed Cody out of his way. He pushed Fox flat onto his back and pulled a scanner out, hovering it over his armor before cursing loudly. Then his hands set out to pull the dented white armor off, dropping it in a pile behind him. 

“His leg is broken.” The medic pocketed his scanner and side-swept the bed. “Pick up his armor, Cody, or I’ll trip on and we’ll have even more problems.” 

“Of course.” Cody dropped to a knee, gathering the pieces into his arms. “What else is wrong?

“Malnourished by the looks of it, cuts and bruises, likely has a concussion.”

Cody glowered as he stood back up. “Is that all?” 

“Let me work and we’ll find out.” Helix elbowed him out of the way again.

Their conversation fell away as Din faded into his thoughts, his head turning and taking in the rest of the room. Beds were spaced out evenly, equipped with the latest medical technology and dresser of supplies. Sounds echoed around the room, bouncing against the white walls and bright sterile lights. A medical droid floated around to each bed, checking the equipment and inventorying the supplies.

The contrast between this medbay and that of what Din had grown up with was staggering. In the sewers and tunnel systems of Nevarro, it was hard to find a place that was covered in grime or contaminated with dust. The one medic that had used blankets and sheets to create a clean environment, while rationing her water and supplies. Three bulbs with differing colors provided light in the space, allowing for only two or three patients. 

The woman had known her craft well and like the Armorer, she rarely spoke. She wielded power when she entered a room, even with her rising age that was crippling her body and popping her joints. Her cane smacked against any that ignored her and tapped in rhythm on the floor. As much as Din had found comfort in her, he knew not to cross her. 

“Hey,” a voice pulled Din from his thoughts, forcing his head back toward Fox’s bed. 

“Yes?” Din asked, watching as Helix wiped his hands and narrowed his eyes. 

“You both got into a fight?” Helix nodded toward Din. “Sit down on the other bed.” 

“I’m fine,” Din replied. 

“You’ll be fine when I say you’re fine.” The medic’s tone darkened. “Sit down.” 

“You can scan through my armor,” Din replied, “I don’t remove it.” 

Helix glowered at him. “Fine, but if you’re injured and hiding it…” 

The threat went unsaid, but it didn’t bother Din, not with the way that it reminded him of the members of his tribe. The way they’d coddle children and threaten them if they had managed to get hurt. It had bled into the ways that they all cared about each other. He could remember Paz threatening to kill him if he died first. 

“No serious injuries, but you do have cuts.” Helix set the scanner down. “I can give you a bacta shot, but you have to clean them first.” 

“Later then,” Din compromised, “It’s against my religion for you to remove my armor.” 

“But you can,” Helix pointed out.

He shook his head. “No, it does not work that way.” 

The medic sighed, something dark falling over his face before fading away. “Fine, I’ll let Luke know that you have to come in for a bacta shot.”

“I’m not going to skip,” Din argued. 

“Yeah, that’s not the first time I’ve heard that,” Helix said, “I wasn’t born yesterday.” 

Din opened his mouth to argue, but a hiss filled the air and the medbay door slid open. Two figures stepped inside, carrying themselves with grace and power. His shoulders softened as his husband’s eyes landed on him, blue eyes widening and a look of relief crossed his face. His hands fluttered up as he moved across the room, reaching out and smoothing over Din’s armor.

“We came as fast as we could,” Luke said, “Are you alright? What happened?” 

“I’m fine,” he replied as he slipped a hand onto Luke’s waist.

Kenobi glanced at them, before turning to Fox’s bed and frowning. “It appears that our missing friend is not alright.” 

“He’ll be fine,” Helix huffed, “He’s got a concussion, a broken leg, and a broken hand, but no other serious injuries. He’ll need surgery for his hand and leg.” 

“Got that fighting you?” Kenobi asked. 

Din nodded, crossing his arms. “Punched my helmet, heard a crack, but he punched again.” 

“ Di’kut .” Cody slapped his helmet and ripped it off his head. 

“Agreed,” Helix added. 

“He kept saying one phrase, over and over.” Cody clipped his helmet to his belt. “Good soldiers follow orders.” 

The older Jedi recoiled, eyes widening as he turned to look at Fox. Something passed over his face as his hand rose, resting against his chin, and his shoulders tensed. Anxiety riddled his body as he stared, a thousand thoughts playing through his mind and a worry darting through him. 

“The Dark Side,” Kenobi said, his voice wavering, “I kept hearing that when we were in the Guard’s Headquarters.” 

“Me too.” Luke stepped away from Din’s side and closer to Fox’s bed. With a glance toward Cody, he tentatively leaned over and looked at the stunned clone. “It’s clustered around him, right now.” 

The urge to pull his husband away shot through him. Fear bit at his tongue as stories skimmed across his mind, of all the pain that his husband had ever felt. But he pushed it away, smothering it deep inside, and took a breath. 

“What do we do? How can we help him?” Cody demanded, stepping closer to Fox. 

“The Dark Side can interfere in a person’s mind, corrupting their thoughts with fear and desperation.” Kenobi frowned and turned to Helix. “I can help clear what is there, but it would be beneficial for Helix to conduct a scan first.” 

Helix startled, before tilting his head. “I can do that… but why? Can the Dark Side cause damage to the brain?” 

“It has been known to occur in select cases.” Kenobi stepped forward as he spoke, slipping into the space next to Cody and resting a hand on his pauldron. “If his brain is damaged, it would be best if a Jedi Mind Healer cared for him. They would be able to reverse some of the damage… especially if it is in the deepest parts of his mind.” 

“I’ll run a full scan then,” Helix replied, “All the levels, starting from one and ending with five.” 

“I’m not leaving his side while you do,” Cody said. 

Helix rolled his eyes. “That’s fine, sir.” 

With that said, Cody turned away from them and leaned against the wall nearest to Fox’s bed. His arms fell across his chest and his head turned, eyes falling over his younger brother. The man stood like a statue until his general shifted to take the space next to him, wrapping an arm around his side and pulling him closer. 

Din looked away from the scene, turning his attention to his husband. Worry knotted between Luke’s eyes, stifling their gray-blue color in his visor. He shifted over and took the man’s hand. 

“You’re worried,” he mumbled. 

Luke leaned against his shoulder, head falling to the side and his body slumping. “Exhausted too.” 

“Coruscant is not good for you,” Din replied, his heart lifting as a snort fell from his husband’s lips. 

“I miss home,” Luke whispered, “And Grogu.” 

The mention of his son tugged at his heart and he closed his eyes, taking a breath to steady the feeling that rose. He wrapped an arm around the man and pulled him closer, tucking him into his side. 

“Me too,” he said. 

Their conversation fell into a comfortable silence as they held each other, eyes following Helix as he directed the medical droid around. They pushed equipment into place around Fox’s bed and messed with his IV. Sounds flickered from the machine and the screens attached to it, a light flickering over Fox’s head and creating a blue grid. 

Minutes passed as Helix and the droid worked, but soon it paid off. 

“Look at this,” Helix called and pointed to the screen in front of him. He moved to the side, allowing them all to peer over at it, and gestured again. “Right there, the dark spot.” 

The number five was plastered in the upper right corner of the screen, attached to the image of Fox’s head and the deepest matter of his brain. A dark shape appeared in the middle, toward the temple, and hovered there. The scanning device dragged up numbers and letters, tagging the shape with them. 

“There’s something wrong with it.” Helix gestured to the edges of the shape. “That’s the inhibitor chip, I think, it’s programmed into all clones to prevent violence.”

Something about that stuck through Din, his mind reeling and his instincts rising at the back of his throat. He leaned closer, scanning the image again and letting his thoughts drift. 

“It’s decaying…” Kenobi leaned closer too, eyes narrowing. 

“Because of the Dark Side?” Cody asked. 

Helix glanced at the two of them, then back at the shape. “Or from overuse… I can’t say for certain, I’m not a trained neurologist.”

“You said it prevents acts of violence?” Din finally asked. “That doesn’t make sense, everything about war is violence.” 

“Uncontrollable bouts of violence,” he replied. 

“That still doesn’t make sense to me,” Din argued, “Because if natborns don’t need them, then clones shouldn’t need them as well.” 

A confused look pulled at Helix’s features, following a slump in his shoulders and his body turning away. He gazed down at the screen, eyeing the shape, as if it would give him answers. But it didn’t speak, it didn’t reveal anything. 

Then, Luke gasped, “Control chips.” 

“What?” Everyone’s eyes snapped to him, locking him in place as his words settled over them. 

“Control chips.” Luke frowned, then he gestured wildly with his hands. “I’ve… I’ve heard of it before, the idea of controlling mass groups of people by using chips. I always assumed they meant slave chips, but this… could this be used to control someone?” 

“I don’t know…” Helix muttered and glanced back at the screen, his shoulders rising. “It’s a possibility.” 

Tension fell over the room, rising and thickening as the seconds went by. All eyes drifted to the screen, catching onto the dark mass that sat within Fox’s head. 

A gnawing feeling entered Din’s stomach as he looked away, refocusing on the clone lying in the bed. He took a breath, biting at the sides of his cheeks as his thoughts piled inward. 

The clones, something to do with the clones, he thought to himself, the clones and the Jedi. 

Before he could voice that thought, Kenobi sucked in a deep breath and turned to him. His eyes stared, his face draining of color and his mouth falling open. Then the older Jedi reached up, hand covering his face and his eyes darting back to the screen. 

“You said the clones had something to do with the Jedi being massacred, that they don’t like to talk about it,” he said, “What if that is because they didn’t have any control over their actions?” 

“We can’t be certain that is what these are for,” Helix argued. 

But what else could it be? Din desperately wanted to ask, wanted to demand. 

It was Cody that stepped back and pulled their attention, he looked at the screen and then at Fox. Something behind his eyes hardened as he reached forward, grasping his brother’s hand and squeezing tightly. 

“We can figure that out if we take it out,” he said. 

“What?” Kenobi whispered. 

“Take mine out, Helix.” Cody turned to Helix. 

“But…” The medic sputtered, before looking to the General. 

“Cody, that might not be the best idea,” Kenobi said. 

“We need to know if it is a control chip or not, Obi-Wan.” Cody crossed his arms, eyes hardening and voice dropping. “Helix is fully capable of removing my chip and examining it, I’ve seen his training simulation. He has all the equipment here that he would need and I’m fully capable of consenting to this.” 

A moment passed, Kenobi meeting Cody’s eyes and staring, before he asked, “Are you sure?” 

“I’m positive,” Cody replied. “For all of my vode , I have to do this.” 

“Alright,” Kenobi said, “Helix, remove his chip.”

Chapter Text

Heavy warmth cascades over his chest, circling tight as breath pressed against the side of his neck. Consciousness spread across Cody’s mind as his eyes blinked open, blinding lights sliding across his gaze and jabbing tears into his eyes. He squinted through it and grimaced as pain seared through his head. 

Numbness filled his limbs as he shifted them, curling his fingers together and testing his toes. As they moved out of their frozen states, relief pedaled through his chest and he let out a sigh. Pain reared through him once again he shifted his head, turning his gaze to the weight lying across his shoulder. 

Brown curls flooded his vision, graying at the roots along the edge. A gnarled scar ran across tanned skin, slithering behind a protruding nose on a restful face. Bacta patches ran down the man’s neck before disappearing on the black uniform that clung to his body. 

“Fox?” Cody whispered. 

“Don’t wake him up.” 

Cody’s head snapped to the side and agony waved through his neck. “Helix?” 

“Welcome back, Commander.” Helix’s head appeared, a frown anchoring his face. “Your surgery went well.” 

The kernel of confusion that had crowded his brain shrunk. Tension that had clung to his shoulders diminished and his lungs heaved, a sigh rushing from his nose. He leaned closer to the warmth surrounding him, bathing in the comfort of his brother’s form beside him. The weight was firm over his chest, but constant in its pressure. It only shifted when his brother breathed deeply and forced air out his nose, tickling the edge of Cody’s neck. 

Memories lap against his mind, carving voices and images into his mind as he closes his eyes again. The waves of Kamino crash around his head as his brothers, small and young, run along the white halls and collide into their barracks. The floor was cold and stunk of chemicals, but it was hard to complain when a brother dragged you close and rattled on about their day.

Cody could remember Wolffe whispering about his name, voice excitedly describing the creatures that roamed many planets across the galaxy. That night, Fox had been tucked under Wolffe’s arm, squeezed until his face turned blue, and he had to bite his twin to save himself. It had started a scramble, a fight that lasted until everyone had new positions in the pile. As usual, they had fallen asleep, until Alpha-17 had woken them up and forced them into their own bunks. 

Somewhere, deep in his chest, Cody missed the nights they had spent piled together on the floor. He hadn’t missed the elbows poking into his side and the heels leaving bruises across his thighs, but he had always longed for the warmth that surrounded them, the comfort, safety, and love that sat in them. If anything, what he missed most was his brothers. 

So, he leaned into Fox’s arms and hoped that his brother would be alright. 

“What’s he…” Cody cleared his throat after a moment, opening his eyes once again. “Why is Fox…?” 

“He woke up shortly after your surgery,” Helix explained. 

Dread filled Cody’s stomach and thought flooded his mind, rearing through and snarling. He couldn’t imagine waking up and finding your batchmate in the bed next to you, remembering the pain that you had gone through but not having an idea why they were there with you. The panic that would have gripped him would have been overwhelming, it would have consumed his bones and ribs. He could only imagine that Fox had felt that way, waking up in confusion that slowly drained into a cold gripped fear. 

Helix looked away from him, eyes flickering over Fox’s body for a moment. “He had a fit and climbed over, refused to let you go.” 

“I’m surprised you let him,” Cody croaked. 

The medic frowned. “Let is a strong word.”

“Oh?” 

“He wasn’t hurting you or himself, so it’s fine.” Helix turned away and rolled his shoulders, tension leaking through his body. “Besides, he’s not the only brother that I had to fend off.” 

The confusion waded back as his thoughts pooled forward. His brothers were on the front lines, occupied with droids and blasters. Bly and Ponds had lowered their contact over the past week even, getting to the thickest part of their campaigns. Even Wolffe was on assignment, despite the numerous messages that he sent every day.

It could be one of his own men, but Cody knew that Helix would never have to fight them. One strong look and they’d scurry out of the med-bay before their CMO could say a word. 

No, it wasn’t his men. 

It could only be his younger cadet, currently on leave as well. 

“Rex?” Cody guessed. 

Helix nodded. “He got word that you found Fox and wanted to check in, freaked out the same when he saw your state. I didn’t tell him the reason though, I fibbed and told him that you got caught in the thick of it trying to get Fox.” 

“Why isn’t he here? Did you tell him off?” Cody knew that his younger brother was not easy to persuade, stubborn in his own ways that had followed him from Kamino. The cadet version of Rex had stuck to his batch like glue, refusing any attempt to leave their sides, to the border of stalking at some points. Though it was perhaps his batch’s fault, they never tried hard to return him to his own squad. 

“Yes,” the medic huffed, “Eventually convinced him to leave.” 

“That’s a miracle, what did you say?” 

“Told him if he really wanted to help you while you and Fox were out, that he’d do the paperwork you’re behind on.” 

Shock and disbelief rolled through Cody’s body, his eyes widening. “And he did?” 

“Well, he was distressed,” Helix mumbled, “And I think he needed to feel like he was helping you, or he was going to become a bigger problem.” 

“Remind me to thank him.” 

“I’m sure he’ll remind you enough.” 

As the medic turned away, the rest of the room came into view. The lines on the wall shifted into focus, pushing the furniture and features forward. The quiet beeps and rush of air conditioning accompanied the pristine colors, spreading over the cabinets, the walls, and the door. But the people within stood out from the backdrop as if they had been thrown into a room covered in white. 

His heart squeezed as his eyes rested across his General, the man’s head twisted to rest on his shoulder as he leaned back in a chair. The chair tilted and threatened to spill the man’s weight across the floor. Peace set into the lines of his face, smoothing them out as his eyes held closed and his lips slanted open. His robes hung to his body while his cloak surrounded them. It acted as a blanket, draping over his shoulders and legs. 

A few feet away, two figures sat on the floor with their backs leaning into the gray wall. Mando’s helmet caught the light, reflecting its blinding rays, while the visor faced the ceiling. His shoulders were tucked up tight, arms crossed and knees pulled upward. The position looked uncomfortable, but not nearly as uncomfortable as Luke’s arrangement. The Jedi had slumped over at a tight angle, face pressing into Mando’s pauldron, and legs tucked underneath him, no doubt growing numb at an increasing rate. 

Cody held back a chuckle and let his eyes shift toward his General, roaming the soft lines of his face and tracking the hairs of his beard. It had been a long time since he had seen the serene look on the man’s face. If anything, he couldn’t remember the last time he had seen it. 

Obi-Wan was hard-working and devoted, but his energy was always worn thin despite his nearly boundless aptitude. He spent hours doing paperwork, scribbling his signature across supply forms, or reading new forms until his eyes had sunk and his lips had drawn back. Yet, he still managed to find the time to drag Cody into secluded spaces and draw maps of battlefields, imaging new battleplans with the flick of his wrist. 

And he was kind for all the anger he held. 

The first time that Cody had realized that, he knew he would be falling for the man. 

A campaign had finished, a battle had been fought, and the men had been left ragged. Cody had stood at the foot of a hill, eyes flickering to the turned dirt beneath his feet and then back to the line of men before him. His eyes had caught onto the whites and oranges, the reds that scorned their armor, and the bodies that hung limp in their arms. His men carried their dead brothers to an unmarked grave. 

Use that spot there, it’s a big enough pit that it’ll fit everything, a local official had said, Just get rid of the bodies.

Anger had boiled over Cody’s shoulders, gripping his hands tight around his blaster. 

Thank you, sir. He had spit out. 

This is all you can offer the men who saved you? Obi-Wan had asked. 

The official had nodded, lips tightening. 

His general had frowned, eyes narrowing and fingers clenching into his beard. What a shame.

Hours later, Cody had stood at the grave again and had stared. A stone, no, a bounder, had been lowered atop the freshly turned dirt. Scorched words had been carved into the face, with lines crossing the sides that created symbols and images that he had only seen on the helmets of his men. 

Here lie the saviors of our world. 

Honorable men of the 212th. 

Gave their lives, so that we could have our own. 

Cody had let his tears drip down his face and soak into his uniform before he had pulled his helmet back on. 

He had always known that Obi-Wan had been responsible for it, had always known that the man who slept in a chair next to his bed had a heart of gold. He was the glory that he had yearned for and loved. 

His thoughts broke away as Helix shifted back into view and leaned closer, eyes flickering off his face. 

“Your vitals are good, but how do you feel?” He asked.

Cody snorted and shook his head at his brother. “Headache, but that’s it.” 

“It should fade soon,” Helix smirked and shifted onto his opposite foot. “Or maybe you can ask your General for help with that.” 

“Ask me for help with what?” A voice yawned. 

The man in question shifted in his spot and sat up in his chair, eyes blinking at the lights and shoulders rolling. His face pinched as he woke, body turning toward the both of them. 

“Obi-Wan,” Cody said as their eyes met. 

His general smiled and stood, using the arms of his chair to push himself up. He shifted his robe onto one arm and stepped closer. 

“You have a headache,” he said, “You’re grimacing.” 

“Well, I did have brain surgery,” Cody replied. 

“That you did, my dear.” He smiled again, before letting his eyes drift away. “Thank you for watching him, Helix.” 

“It’s literally my job, sir,” Helix huffed and then stepped away. “Make sure he doesn’t try to get up.” 

“Of course,” Obi-Wan replied. 

As the CMO disappeared further into the medical bay, the Jedi’s gaze swept over it again. Cody watched the line in his face soften and a smile pulled at his lips, his eyes trailing over Fox’s form before turning away. His attention turned to the wayward time travelers, curled into each other as they rested back against the wall. 

His eyes narrowed, thoughts filtering through before he raised an eyebrow and smiled. 

“What is that look?” Cody asked. 

Obi-Wan’s eyes flickered back to him, a brow raising.  “What look?”

“You’re looking at them like… amusement? Fondness?” Cody struggled to find the word. He tried to search for it, but his General replied before he could. 

“I just realized something about them, that’s all,” he said. 

“Realized what?” Cody asked. 

Another voice answered, rasping and annoyed, “It’s obvious they’re fucking, vod .” 

“Fox!” Cody’s body jolted and swaths of pain rolled through, beading toward his neck and thrumming beyond his skull. He didn’t care, he just wanted to see his brother. “You’re awake!” 

Pained grimace met pained grimace, the clone commander hissing sharply and shifting on his side. His elbow pressed into a point against Cody’s ribs, while his head arched away and teeth gleamed in the light. 

“Watch it!” His vod’ika snapped, the sound bouncing across the walls. 

“Ni ceta, Fox’ika,” Cody replied and forced his body to still, “What do you remember?” 

The grimace faded, replaced by a tight-lip sneer and eyes that flickered to the nearest wall. “I was working.” 

Perhaps it was the absurdity of the statement that caused Cody to scoff, the air rushing hotly from his nostrils and his fingers curling tighter across Fox’s arm. He leaned closer as annoyance flooded through him. It raged like white fire across his back and dove into his shoulders, cutting across his neck. 

He’s lying, Cody thought as fear grew inside of him, why would he kriffing lie?

“I need more details than that, you know that,” Cody said, trying to keep his voice even. 

“I don’t know what you want.” His brother stared at the wall, lips pressing together. 

“You’ve been missing for over a week, Fox.” 

The man’s head snapped back to him, eyes flickering over his face and jaw clenching. The muscles of his cheeks flexed as he stared, eyes narrowing. 

“Udesii, Fox’ika,” Cody whispered, shuffling closer and shifting in his spot, “We got worried, we thought… a friend of ours, Mando, went to find you.” 

He wrapped an arm around his younger brother as the man took in a shuddering breath. He willed his body to share the warmth that he felt, hoping that it could be shared, that the comfort he was offering would be accepted. 

His vod’ika leaned closer to him, head dropping and whispering for only the two to hear, “Is he okay?” 

Cody glanced to the side, spotting the man in question shifting as his consciousness came back. The Mandalorian rolled his shoulders, a hand jolting up to catch Luke’s head as it slid off his pauldron. A smile pulled at his face, the scene warming his chest. 

He turned back to his brother, dropping his voice,  “He probably wouldn’t be if he didn’t wear beskar, he came out with only scrapes and bruises.”

His brother sighed and leaned into him, eyes closing for just a moment. 

“Yet, I did get injured.” Fox shifted and grimaced, managing to raise his injured hand. 

“Apparently, you don’t know when to give up,” Cody chuckled,  “You kept punching him, even after you broke your hand. Do you remember that?” 

His brother’s brows furrowed, his lips pressing upward as his eyes grew narrow. They flickered to the side, glaring toward the Jedi next to them before turning to the nearest wall. His stare burned through the air, his thoughts clinging to the thickness. 

And then his lips wavered, drawing back and sneering. Fox ducked his head and curled his fingers tight, fisting them into Cody’s black. 

“Cod’ika,” he whispered, “Ni ceta, ni ceta.” 

“Nayc, it’s not your fault.” Cody pulled the man closer and pressed his face into his brother’s hair, closing his eyes. “Everything is going to be okay, I’ve got it… I’ll handle it.” 

He carded his hand through his brother’s hair, holding the man’s head close and thinking to himself. His vod’ika had gray hairs, speckling at the roots around his hairline. There was probably more hidden in the base of his scalp, covered by the thick black bush on his head. 

He’s not supposed to go gray first , Cody thought, not him . 

Fox was supposed to have the safe job. 

Another shift threw pain over Cody’s ribs, an elbow digging into his skin and his brother pulling away. Warmth left with him, leaving an empty gap, quickly replaced by a narrowed glare that searched up his face. “What happened to you?”

“What?” Cody blinked

Fox grunted and shifted his weight to one hand, using his other to jab a finger against Cody’s skull. “I’m not the only one in the medbay and you look like you got your head cut open.” 

“Oh, well, about that…” Cody winced as pain seared through his skull. “I had my inhibitor chip removed.” 

“Why?” Fox’s eyes widened before dipping into their narrowed glare again, his lips drawing back in a snarl. 

His brother pushed him back before he could answer, pinning him against the bed and grabbing his jaw. His nails dug into his skin as he twisted his head, sending rivets of pain across his mind. Yet, Fox didn’t stop as he looked at the cut and the bacta-patch pressed against it. 

“What is wrong with you?” His brother seethed. “Do you want to get decommed?” 

“I’m not going to get decommed, Fox.” 

“Are you serious?” Fox let go of his jaw and stared at him. “Why the kriff did you do this, you moron?”

“It might not be an inhibitor chip, it might be a control chip.” 

His brother froze, eyes glaring through him and lips beginning to falter. Seconds passed, dragging out like hours as his vod’ika stared him through, thoughts passing over his eyes and twitching at the sides of his face. Then the man huffed and rolled to his side, pressing back into the space he had claimed. His cheek pressed into Cody’s shoulder, eyes pressing shut as he frowned. 

“That would make a lot of sense, vod,” Fox whispered. 

Confusion was becoming Cody’s best friend. “What do you mean, vod’ika?” 

“Actually, I think I can better answer that.” Helix materialized next to the bed and held up his datapad. “The results are back.” 

Fox’s elbow dug into his ribs again as the man sat up, he leaned over with a glare. “What does it say?” 

“Ah, one second.” Helix shook his head. “Can everyone gather around first? I don’t want to explain twice.” 

Cody raised a hand and gripped onto Fox’s shoulder, pulling himself up. His brother scoffed and glared at him, but his lips twitched into a smile. Warmth flooded his chest at the sight and he smiled, squeezing his brother’s shoulder one last time. 

Then he glanced at the figures that had joined them, taking in their forms and relaxing. Luke rubbed the sleep out of his face, fingers pinching at the red mark left by Mando’s pauldron. On the other hand, Mando crossed his arms and looked between them all. His helmet swiveled and lurched, before settling as his gaze shifted toward them. 

“Well, we’re all here now,” Obi-Wan stated as he stepped closer to the bed. He smiled at Cody, before turning and nodding to Helix. 

“I’m going to put this in simple terms, though it’s not as accurate.” The medic scrolled through the datapad. “I studied the neural patterns and the proteins produced by the inhibitor ship, but they’re way different than what I expected. First, the location isn’t close to the parts of your brain that control your emotions, like rage or aggression, but rather is next to where motor function occurs.” 

“One point for control chip,” Luke said. 

Mando sighed and turned his head, the pauldrons sagging with his shoulders, “Luke…” 

“Sorry,” the Jedi said, eyes widening and a sheepish look overcoming his face, “That was insensitive.”

“Though, it was accurate,” Helix replied and looked down at his datapad, “The chip connects to those parts through its neural pathways as well and the proteins produced are odd. They seem coded, but I’m not an expert on that. Honestly, we’d have to have a lot of specialists to look at this to confirm what it does.” 

“But can you confirm if it’s a control chip?” 

“Well, it’s definitely not an inhibitor chip.” Helix crossed his arms. “It’s mostly like a control chip, based on the proteins and neural pathways. They… well, they’re similar to the ones responsible for moving your body and the ones responsible for your memories.” 

Fox jolted at the word and he raised a hand, digging his fingers into his temple. 

“Oh,” Fox said, groaning. 

Helix frowned. “What is it?” 

“My blackouts make more sense now.” 

Fear shot through Cody and his body swung toward his brother, eyes widening as he reached out to grab the man’s shoulders. “Your what?” 

“Blackouts,” Fox said, his eyes darting toward Obi-Wan before resting back on Cody’s figure, “Whenever I would be sent on missions, the classified ones, I wouldn’t remember a single detail about them. Sometimes I came back to it during work or would find myself bleeding out in an alley.”

“Bleeding out?” Cody croaked. “Fox, why don’t… why didn’t… Fox…”

“They’re on my medical record.” Fox looked away, frowning. “Hacksaw knows all about them.” 

Cody glanced at Helix, their eyes meeting as thoughts passed between them. The CMO nodded to him before looking at his datapad, his fingers dancing across the screen. 

“Who gives you the missions?” Cody asked, keeping his voice steady.

Fox looked back at him. “Not sure, you don’t realize you’ve had one until it’s over.” 

“Have others had these blackouts…?” Cody asked. 

“You…” Fox’s eyes widened. “You haven’t?” 

“I’ve never even heard of a blackout mission, vod.” 

“I don’t see anything of the sort on your records.” Helix scrolled through his datapad, breaking into their conversation. “If anything, your medical records are standard, but lacking.”

“Oh,” Fox replied, “They’re probably on the Corrie Network.” 

“Corrie Network?” Helix raised an eyebrow. 

Fox frowned at him, arms crossing his chest. “The GAR has its own network and so does the Guard, it’s easier for communications in-house that way.” 

“Either way, this should still be in your medical records that all medics have access to.” Helix glowered. 

“You don’t believe me?” Fox challenged, eyes darkening. 

“I believe everything you’re saying.” Luke stepped forward, eyes glancing toward Helix before turning and falling upon Fox. His eyes softened, but his jaw flexed and his hands clasped in front of him. “But it means that there is no time to waste.” 

Fox’s shoulders fell, but his gaze remained cold as he stared at the younger Jedi. His lips pulled against his teeth and his fingers flexed into fists. 

“Luke, what are you saying?” Cody asked. 

Luke’s gaze turned to him, eyes blinking and brows furrowing. Hundreds of thoughts passed over his face, a pinch between his brown and the scrunch of his nose before he took a breath and nodded. 

“We must act now, we have to kill the Sith Lord,” He said. 

“Or arrest him,” Obi-Wan objected, casting a look toward Luke. 

“No, kill him.” Mando stepped forward, shoulder bumping against Luke’s and head leaning forward. “Even if he has no weapon in hand, he has the weapons of every clone under his thumb. He will use them.”

“Killing him won’t fix things,” Luke added, “But it will change the course of your future, it will no longer look like ours.” 

“What?” Fox rasped.

Cody had forgotten that Fox didn’t know about Luke or Mando. “I’ll explain later, Fox’ika.” 

Then he looked back to Obi-Wan, whose face had turned a paler shade. Ideas and worries passed the corridors of his eyes, his mouth falling into a frown before he spoke. 

“You’re right, killing the Sith Lord won’t fix our problems,” He said, his face darkened and his hand carded through his beard. “The war will still wage, the corruption in the senate will continue.” 

“Obi-Wan,” Cody said, trying to ease the pain flickering over his General’s face, “The clones have been fighting to end this war since we were born, we’re more than prepared to continue… and if dealing with the corruption of the senate becomes part of winning, so be it.” 

That sentence snapped his brother out of his daze, his shoulders jolting forward and his lips drawing back. 

“So be it?” Fox snapped, “So be it?

“Fox’ika, don’t…” 

“The corruption isn’t some joke, it will affect my men! It has affected my men!” Fox pushed away from him, swinging his legs off the bedside and gripping the edge. His back flexed as he turned away from Cody. “My men are starving because of their idiotic budget cuts, they’re dying because we don’t receive the medical supplies that they promise, and they’re forced to work hours beyond what is functional!”

“Fox’ika…”

“Don’t Fox’ika me, Kote. ” Fox pushed himself off the bed. “That’s only a little of what my men deal with, you have no idea what corruption is and how powerless we are against it.” 

“Commander Fox,” Luke said as he stepped forward, “After the Sith Lord is dead, you’ll have the power to clear the senate’s corruption.” 

“How do you know that?” Cody asked. 

Luke turned, his blue eyes meeting Cody’s and growing cold. “Because the Sith Lord is Chancellor Palpatine.” 

That’s not possible… is it? Cody thought, but before he could voice that thought, his brother jolted and choked on air. 

“What?” 

Fox had swung around. Terror scored each of his features, his jaw falling slack, eyes widening, brows raising, and his fingers beginning to tremble. The man took a step backward and collided with his bed. Huff of air left him as one of his hands reached up, crawling across his face before pushing through his hair. 

“No, no,” Fox rasped, “please, no.” 

Helix jumped into motion. “Everyone, get out now!” 

“Fox’ika,” Cody whispered and swung his legs off the bed. 

Fox’s grip on his hair tightened and his face contorted. “No!” 

“Cody, help me calm him down,” Helix said before glaring at the others, “The rest of you, leave now!” 

The footsteps against the metal floor echoed around them, followed by the sliding mechanical door, but Cody couldn’t look at them. His eyes were locked onto his brother’s form, onto the way that his body had begun to tremble and the tears that were streaming down his face. His heart broke and he stepped forward, wondering how he could help his brother. 

--- 

The Senate Rotunda boiled Luke’s insides and turned the acids of his stomach. The shield around him tightened, creating an ache that pierced through his mind. He leaned his thoughts toward his husband, who stood beside him and clung to the beskar that echoed silence. One of his hands drifted to his neck, circling around his pendant and clinging to the small source of peace that hung around it. 

The Lobby was full of people, moving through or waiting. Their signatures wafted around him like stars in the sky, steady and shining as they huddled into groups or walked with purpose. They had the same rushing thrum that the New Repiblic’s Senate had, filled with people fighting to have their voices heard in a sea of thousands. Luke had never understood how anything got done. 

Leia had always been able to navigate the turmoils of politics, even if waves of stress and frustrations flowed off of her. As much as she hated the work, Luke had always had a hard time pulling her away from it. Han was better at it, always coaxing her away with his words, and if that failed… well, he’d blow something up to get her attention. It was a wonder she hadn’t killed him yet. 

Either way, Leia took to the senate like a fish does water, and Luke wished he had her abilities. 

“Not making you look forward to those treaty negotiations, is it?” Luke asked his husband. 

Din snorted and leaned closer to him. “Hopefully, it’ll be on holo call.” 

“I doubt they’ll let you.” Luke glanced around as he swayed closer, nudging their shoulders together. 

“You’ll come if I have to meet the Senate?” Din asked. 

Luke turned to his husband and smiled, nodding as he answered, “Of course.” 

Appreciation snuck out of the gaps in Din’s armor, creating a cord that wrapped around them and held snug. His husband dipped his head; the same way he did helmetless, when he was trying to hide a smile. Then he reached out and grabbed Luke’s hand under his cloak, squeezing the space between his fingers and his palm. 

“Thank you,” his husband muttered. 

“No debt,” Luke whispered, knowing only Din’s helmet would pick up his words, “mhi solus tome.” 

Light poured out of his husband’s armor and floated on tendrils around them. Pinks wove into them, dragging splotches of red and yellow along with them. They swirled around and Luke leaned into them, letting their air drift over his head. He breathed in the scent of home, the fresh tree breezes, and the tiingilar spices floating with them. 

Din squeezed his hand once again and brushed his thumb over the skin of his knuckles, before dropping his hand. Luke opened his eyes as Din nodded his head toward the door, the warmth slowly washing away from him. 

Commander Thorn stepped through the senate doors, two Guardsmen following him inside before patrolling past him. His helmet swiveled as he looked across the crowd of people before his visor landed on the both of them. Then the man was moving, his boots clacking against the ground as he marched forward. 

“General Djarin,” Thorn said to him. 

“I told you that you can call me Luke, really, I prefer it,” he said with a smile, thinking to himself, Though I do like my husband’s name.

Thorn nodded, before looking toward Din and tilting his helmet. “Who is this?” 

“This is Mando,” Luke introduced, “He’s the Mandalorian that I told you about yesterday.” 

“I remember, sir.” Thorn’s hands latched together around his back, his feet shifting to raise his chest and head. 

“Ah, well, Mando, this is Commander Thorn,” Luke added. 

“It is nice to meet you, sir,” Thorn said. 

Din nodded, his visor flicking between Thorn and Luke, “Uh, thanks.” 

“Would it be alright if he accompanies us on our tour today?” Luke asked. 

Thorn’s shoulders tightened, a mixture of colors sprouting from his armor as his Force Signature wavered. The murky yellows sloshed against dried greens, and bitter flavors bloomed across them. It was annoyance and distrust, but the overwhelming darkness of helplessness that swarmed around him. 

“Yes, sir.” Thorn nodded his head, despite how clearly he wished not to. 

Luke stumbled through his thoughts as his heart sank to his stomach. It was clear that the commander did not want Din to join them, but felt like he didn’t have a say in the matter either way. The colors and aura that surrounded him were a familiar taste and a familiar sight. 

Thorn feared what would happen if he disagreed with a Jedi, like the officers who were afraid to defy Darth Vader. 

But sending Din away now would only make Luke look suspicious because it would reveal that he had realized how the commander had felt. If anything, that would make the man more on guard, more fearful, and more stagnant. A wall would form between them, one that would extend between the Guard and Jedi, which was something that couldn’t happen. 

“I appreciate your choice to let him,” Luke said and smiled. 

“It’s no problem, General,” Thorn replied. 

“This is your domain,” Luke joked, “Lead the way.” 

The tour fell into place, Thorn’s voice explaining the ins and outs of the Rotunda and the numerous hallways that accompanied it while Din and Luke trailed behind him. The corridors circled around the Senate Dome, but they also gave way to larger rooms or lobbies that spread across the world’s surface. The higher levels were connected to everything by the grand stairs; they contained the many offices and storage rooms that the Senators used while attending conferences and meetings. 

But honestly, Luke didn’t care about the architecture of Coruscant’s Senate building. 

He cared more about the darkness that hung in the corners and along the stairwells. It leached off the light as people passed by, but it withered at a glance and shriveled when Luke turned to it, but it didn’t hide, it didn’t run. 

It clung and clung and clung. 

A stain that couldn’t be wiped away. 

A stain that had to be destroyed. 

It was the same stain that had haunted the halls of the Death Star, that had clung to the backs of Imperial officers and troops. It spread and spread, stinking of the dirt and death that had decayed into Lord Sidious’ skin. 

It was a remnant of the man, Luke knew, because the stain was nothing compared to its source. 

He reached out in the Force and sank into it. The world bloomed and scattered around him, weaving lines between his soul and energies that floundered across the planets. It burned through him, the oil stickiness of Coruscant mixing with the bright beacon of the Jedi Temple, swallowed whole by the wallowing despair and frustration that was the Senate. 

It pounded against his head and threatened to shatter, but he pushed the beskar shields forward and leaned toward Din. He pushed himself over the lines and waves, grasping onto the connections. 

Luke breathed out, everything but what he held disappeared. 

Dots and blobs appeared around him, venturing through the spaces of the Senate and floundering across the ari. He breathed in the stench, holding back the choke of ash and bone, clearing past the decaying flesh and the bitter tastes of oil. He focused on them, revealing the shapes that walked. 

Palpatine’s hoard, his mindless followers blundered through, and dragged their stench with them. Luke could sense each of them, connected on a web that stretched over the spider’s lair. They swindled through the hallways and congregated in offices, their signatures tainted and torn as they spread his webs and lies. 

He could imagine that not all of them had been haggard before they met the man, not all of them were drenched in muck and digestion. But he knew that most of them had been dark, and had only grown darker since they met the man. They had fallen into the Sith Lord’s trap, the one that he had made in the center of democracy. 

This building was a pile of bodies that he called his throne. 

Then something moved and Luke’s stomach stiffened, his throat closing as a form grew behind him. Its cold fingers reached through the air and coldened the room, shriveling past as the figure grew closer and closer. A line of webs connected to it, drawing at its back and pushing it forward. It stank of death and sand, of blood and mud. 

Luke’s shoulders rose as the figure approached his back, rounding the corner, and storming closer. Danger flung across his senses as the Palpatine’s minion tunneled in, bee-lining straight for him. 

“Commander!” 

A man swung into view as Luke turned, his body covered in drapes and ribbons. They clung to him like tinsel and shuddered off of his body, creating the outline of a tree. 

Leia would hate that outfit, Luke thought, Fucking ghastly.

The ribbons shuttered as the man turned to the clone commander, his brows narrowing and his frown apparent.

“How can I help you, Senator?” Thorn’s voice fell into a level cadence, threads of gray gripping his figure as he turned to the man. 

“My aide reported to me that one of your men was acting out of line,” the Senator said as he came to a halt, “Less than satisfactory.” 

“How so, sir?” Thorn asked, arms latching behind his back and helmet tipping forward. The gray turned dark around him as he added, “I can file a report.” 

The way that he had spoken drew a smirk from the senator's face, his shoulders relaxing and his spine straightening. 

“Well, he first refused to answer their queries.” He waved a hand, his smirk growing as his Force Signature relaxed. “My aide asked for your man’s service, to accompany him home last night, but he refused and left my aide defenseless, very uncomfortable, afraid to walk home.” 

Lies, lies, lies, Luke thought as the Force thrummed through his skull, lighting up like a bulb at each word the man said. 

Yet, Thorn nodded and asked, “Do you have the number of the Guard, sir?” 

“Of course not, but I assume it was one of the men assigned to the Rotunda yesterday night.” The senator frowned as he spoke, glancing away from them before looking back with a sheepish smile. 

“There were forty men stationed in the Rotunda last night,” Thorn replied.

“Oh, then whichever one was positioned closest to my office,” the senator said. 

“Of course, sir.” 

“Good, finally,” the senator sighed. 

“Is that all, senator?” Thorn asked. 

With one eye, the senator looked at the clone commander and nodded. “I suppose, dismissed.” 

“Actually, senator!” Luke jolted forward. “Could you excuse me for a moment, I have a question.” 

The sudden movement caught the man’s attention but sent his shoulders rising high and his eyes widening. His head swiveled from the commander to Luke before he came back to himself. He grabbed the front of his attire, holding onto pieces that dangled from the front, and raised his head. 

“Who are you?” He asked as he looked down his nose. 

“Jedi Master Luke Djarin, senator,” Luke replied, before bowing his head, “I apologize for the interruption.” 

“Oh, I’m sorry for my bluntness.” The senator grimaced, before leaning forward. “What is your question?” 

Luke had one second to think about his choice before he moved forward. He couldn’t do anything about this politician, who stunk up the halls he slouched through, but he could do something. The aide was arguably the more dangerous and responsible person in this situation, the one who was trying to take advantage of people and hiding behind his employer. 

With a hand raising and waving in front of him, Luke reached forward through the Force and pressed against the man’s mind. “You want to terminate your aide’s contract, he’s too much trouble.” 

A second passed, filling Luke’s stomach with boils, but then the senator blinked and nodded.

“I want to terminate my aide’s contract, he’s too much trouble,” he mumbled. 

Relief flooded Luke as he waved his hand again. “You’ll be going now.” 

“I’ll be going now.” The senator turned and slunk away. 

The cold retreated and Luke’s body shuddered, the sludge pulling away from him as the man disappeared out of sight. Light crept back in and circled around, clearing the air and the scent of rot away.

“General,” Thorn asked, “Why did you do that?” 

“He was lying.” Luke looked at the Commander, raising an eyebrow. “But you already knew that?” 

The Commander stared at him, helmet frozen in place and shoulders stuck against in position. The grays dimmed around him, slowly washing back into the reds and whites of his uniform, back into the solid color of his signature.

“Sir?” Thorn finally asked. 

Luke smiled at the man and shook his head. “Don’t worry, Commander.” 

“Technically, I should worry about that,” Thorn replied, but his voice was a little lighter than before. 

“Well, only technically,” Luke smirked, feeling that the man understood exactly what he meant. 

Then he turned to his husband, feeling the annoyance and anger flowing through their bond. Din stared down the hallway, a glare that could have burned through his visor. 

“Mando?” Luke asked and nudged him.

“I wanted to punch that man.” Din crossed his arms, visor swaying back to him. 

“Well, hopefully, this turns out despite you not getting to punch him,” Luke replied, “I’d bet he has some illegal ties somewhere… He’s reeking of the Hutts.” 

“The Hutts?” Thorn asked. 

Luke nodded. “When you get the chance, you can investigate him for all he’s worth and see if I’m right or not.” 

Thorn’s helmet swiveled, looking toward the corridor the Senator had disappeared down, before turning back to him and tilting. “You seem certain of that, General.” 

A grimace rolled through Luke’s body, leaving a sour taste on his tongue. “Sadly, I am.” 

Curiosity rose from the Commander, his body turning and his shoulders opening. Interest lingered on the man’s force, sprouting across him like roses. 

“Let’s continue the tour,” Din said before the Commander could ask another question. 

Thorn jolted, before nodding and turning. “This way, sirs.” 

Though the man had walked away, taking the stink of the Dark Side with him, Luke could feel the claws of anxiety working their way into his chest. He stepped closer to his husband and ducked his head, letting their fingers brush against each other. But even with his husband acting as an anchor, his thoughts began to wander once again. 

Just how many people did Palpatine have influence over? Just how far did the corruption spread? 

The web that he had sensed frayed at the edges, but not because it didn’t reach any further, but because he couldn’t sense beyond that. They were muddled by the traffic of life, by the crowds that filled the galaxy, and by the chatter of lives. He knew that Palpatine’s influence reached far beyond Coruscant, because the Empire hadn’t sprung from nowhere, and the Separatists wouldn’t have molded into it so easily if not.

Was the corruption what he was actually sent here for? 

Would killing Palpatine send him back or was it just one step in a larger project?

How long would it be before he would see his son again?

A crash pulled Luke out of his thoughts. 

“Hey, watch out!” 

He turned to the commotion in time to see a droid wheeling away, beeping loudly and throwing its clawed arms in the air. It disappeared through an office doorway, spitting curses and profanities, but not before a woman gestured at it with her fist. Stacks of datapads lay at her feet, scattered across the floor. 

She turned around and began to pick them up, just just as Commander Thorn moved over to help her.

He swooped up a datapad, handing it to her with a quick, “Here, Senator.” 

“Ah, thank you, Commander Thorn.” The woman took the datapad from him, folding it back into her arms. 

Thorn nodded, his shoulders relaxing. “Just doing my job, ma’am.” 

Luke. 

Oh, Luke. 

Luke jolted and froze. The hair rose along his arm, racing down his skin and across his shoulders. His heart pounded in his ears and the world turned quiet, the Force whispering into silence. Everything felt big, large, and towering. 

He stared at the woman, taking in the clothes that swooped around her and clung to her shoulders. The hair pulled up behind her head, tucked into a headdress that could have toppled buildings. Her eyes sparked as they danced across the room, before falling on him and widening. 

“Oh, sorry, and you are?” She asked, brown eyes narrowing for a moment. 

“Master Jedi Luke Djarin, ma’am,” Luke said as his soul pulsed again. 

Leia, she looks like Leia, Luke thought, but the Force strummed again and pushed reds, oranges, and blacks around him. They swiveled closer and exploded.

“I’m Padme Amidala.” The senator smiled at him, her face falling soft but her eyes burning with energy. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you around here before, but you do seem familiar.” 

I’ve never heard of you before. Are you a Jedi Shadow by chance?

Fire lit in his stomach and water sloshed in his chest, but his limbs grew strong and his eyes grew clear. Luke smiled, despite himself, and watched as the Force settled around the woman, around his mother. 

Golden rays mixed with purple ornaments and a fire that burned from within, sat upon her shoulders and guided her forward. She was a beacon, the light and the guide, with eyes wide and a smile accepting. Her heart sang through of love that was unyielding, that was blind. 

“I haven’t spent much time here,” Luke managed to say, “But I’m temporarily standing in as the Guard’s Jedi, you might see more of me.” 

“Well, it’s nice to meet you then.” Her smile remained as her eyes scanned his face and her Force signature flickered, growing in the moment. “The Guard does amazing work, I’m glad that they finally have a Jedi to help them.” 

Luke chuckled, “We can both agree on that.” 

“I’m terribly sorry to cut this conversation short, but I do have a meeting to get to,” Padme said, her eyes narrowing for a moment as she added, “I’m sure I’ll see you around, Master Djarin.” 

“Don’t let us keep you,” Luke replied with a nod, his heart aching.

She smiled once again, before nodding to them all, and whisked away. Her signature drifted and faded as she disappeared down the corridor, her life burning with passion and desire, buzzing with energy. 

A thought sparked at the back of Luke’s mind and he smiled, feeling the hope push through him and surround his chest. He leaned into the feeling as their group began to walk again, pushing through the crowds. It circled around him and grew into an idea, solidifying in his thoughts and taking form. 

Luke looked at Commander Thorn and felt himself speak before he could think against it. 

“Senator Amidala,” He asked the man, “She is one of the senators that does not take advantage of the Guard?”

Thorn glanced at him, his helmet tipping as he said, “Yes, sir.” 

---

Guilt was an endless well that had grown inside Cody’s stomach. It had sprouted when he led his brothers to their deaths, it had grown when he couldn’t get them supplies, and it had thrived when he had failed to protect them from higher officials. But it had never feasted like this, not as his vod’ika curled into his arms and pressed his mouth shut. 

Words bounced in his mind, searching for anything that could be transformed into a key. Anything that would unlock the secrets that his brother kept, anything that would allow them to flow from his mouth and give life to a conversation. Yet, nothing good enough, nothing powerful enough, nothing that translated his emotions and desires and being, would come forward. 

He was lost in the well, letting guilt eat away at him as he dragged his brother closer. 

How hadn’t he noticed?

As his thoughts searched his memories, all the signs of his brother’s position became clear. Each sign was overlooked or mistaken, pushed aside because of the war that raged in front of Cody’s eyes. He had believed, deep down, that his brother would never know the true and horrible side of war. 

He was wrong. 

His brother knew a horrible side, one that Cody could never imagine, and he kept so much of a secret. 

Cody couldn’t understand the horrors that Fox went through, the shame and degradation that his brother subjected himself to at the hands of the senate. Let alone, he had answered directly to Chancellor Palpatine, the Sith Lord whom the Jedi had spent so much time searching for. He had never had a Jedi to protect him from any fallouts, from any mistakes, from anything that the Chancellor could do. 

There wasn’t anything Cody could do either, not yet at least. 

For now, he hugged his brother closer and whispered stories into his ear. He unraveled tales of his men, the times that they had laughed at and cursed at. Boil and Waxer hadn’t met Fox yet, but he promised that they would. He knew that his vod’ika would love them, even if he found them annoying. 

Maybe Rex could introduce Fives and Echo too, who were reportedly the worse-behaved duo in the GAR. 

Too much energy, Rex had said once, They’d destroy Coruscant if left alone.

Fox would hate them. 

Fox would also love them. 

He found himself sliding out of his thoughts as the med-bay’s door slunk open. Two figures stepped through the doorway, causing Obi-Wan to rise to his feet. 

“Luke, Mando, welcome back.” Cody nodded to them as they moved further in, their footsteps falling quietly as they came to a stop. 

“Is everything okay now?” Luke asked, his eyes flickering toward Fox. 

Fox answered before Cody could, pulling away and sitting up. “Yes.” 

Obi-Wan gazed at Fox for a moment, stepping closer to the group, before he turned his head to the two time travelers. 

A moment passed, before he finally said,  “I can understand now why you were so hesitant to reveal the Sith Lord’s identity, Luke.” 

“It affects… everything,” Cody added with a glance toward his brother. 

His vod’ika nodded in agreement, huffing a breath through his nose and rolling his shoulders back. The lost and desperate look in his eyes disappeared as he sat up straight, his hands resting on his knees and his eyes darkening. He pressed his lips together and furrowed his brows, sliding into a different mode entirely. 

Luke glanced at Fox, eyes softening, and nodded. “I know… and that means that killing him will affect everything too.” 

“You shouldn’t kill him without evidence,” Cody said, “His supporters will use that against you.” 

“There’s evidence,” Fox said.

“What?” Cody snapped to his brother, eyes widening. 

Fox glanced at him, eyes hardening and his jaw flexing. “I have evidence, my men… after the blackouts, after watching my men struggle, I investigated.” 

“Why didn't you tell me?” The question rolled out of his mouth before he could stop it, his emotions cracking his words to pieces. He glanced at the men beside them, worry bleeding through him. 

Obi-Wan nodded to him, before looking away and motioning for the others to do as well. Their eyes averted them, passing toward the wall, and attention shot elsewhere.

Their changed stances relaxed the tension in Fox’s shoulders, but the hardness stood strong in his eyes and his fingers clenched around his knees. 

“What could we do?” Fox asked, voice falling to a whisper. “We’re clones, Cod’ika, we don’t have rights. It would be my words against his authority… it would mean decommissioning, for more than just me.” 

Cody stared at his brother, feeling the guilt pool heavier in his stomach and begin dripping toward his feet. 

“I… I’m sorry,” he managed, his jaw working to say more. 

“Don’t be,” Fox said, cutting him off, “I didn’t know he was a Sith Lord, but I knew he was a corrupt bastard playing both sides of this war… I figured the best I could was to protect you and our brothers.” 

The words buzzed his head, drilling around him as his shoulders fell forward and he leaned closer to his brother. Pain swelled in his chest and burned the back of his throat, squeezing his eyes. 

“You’re not alone anymore…” Cody gripped his brother’s shoulder, squeezing. “We’re going to fix this.” 

Fox grimaced, meeting his gaze with softening eyes. “Vod…”

“Shhh, Fox’ika.” Cody looked away and back to the men around them. “Obi-Wan, Luke, do either of you have a plan?” 

His general looked back and nodded. He glanced toward Luke and Mando, before stepping forward and beginning with a sway of his hands. 

“Well, if Fox can transfer his evidence to me, I can tell the council that Luke and I are handling the situation,” Obi-Wan said, “And that Palpatine is the Sith Lord… they’ll be able to start a case against him and provide heavy support for us once he’s dead.” 

“Can you do that Fox?” Cody asked. 

His brother looked between them before he sighed and nodded. “I just need to contact Commander Thorn, he’ll be able to send it to you.” 

“Please do that well we discuss this,” Obi-Wan said, “the faster the better.” 

We’re going to kill the Chancellor, Cody suddenly thought and he felt the bed underneath him, grounding him into the world. We’re going to commit treason. 

Yet, he wouldn’t choose any other option. 

He was going to protect his brothers. 

“I do have an idea.” Luke waved a hand, gaining their attention. “But we would need a senator’s help, I was thinking… Padme Amidala.” 

“She’s a good senator.” Fox nodded, his shoulders relaxing further. 

Obi-Wan smiled, adding, “And a dear friend of mine, I think I could ask her to help us with this.”

“Maybe don’t tell her that we’re trying to kill the chancellor,” Fox said.

“We can… be looking for the Sith Lord, that’s what we’ve technically been doing, yes?” Luke asked. 

“Of course,” Obi-Wan argued, “I’ll tell her that, though I think she would support us if she knew the whole truth.” 

“Yes, but this gives her deniability if things go south,” Fox pointed out.

Obi-Wan sighed and ran a hand through his beard, eyes closing for a moment. “I suppose you’re right… It would be best to let her have some kind of protection.” 

“If we can meet with her, under the guise of looking for a Sith Lord…” Luke trailed off, his eyes darting toward Obi-Wan and raising a brow. 

The older Jedi sighed, clearly understanding whatever message the younger one was sending. “Yes, I’ll let her know immediately.”

“And I’ll contact Thorn,” Fox added. 

As the two men turned away, Cody found himself dropping back into his thoughts. He breathed through his nose and leaned backward, letting his eyes drop down to his comm. It blinked at him, an unread message screaming for his attention. 

Rexie: You up yet?

Codes: Hey, Rex

Rexie: Finally, you’re awake

Rexie: Want to tell me what happened?

Codes: Come to the medbay and I will

It was Obi-Wan turning back to their group that pulled his attention away from his comm. His heart sped up as the man looked them over, before smiling. 

“Padme said that we could come to her office now,” Obi-Wan announced. 

Luke’s head rose, his hands falling to his sides and shoulders rising. “Let’s go then.” 

“Wait, I’m coming!” Cody jolted and shuffled to the side of the bed.

“Cody, no!” Fox snapped and reached out, grabbing onto his shoulder in a squeeze. “You just had brain surgery, di’kut!” 

With a shrug and quick pull, Cody staggered away. His heart thudded in his chest, his mind darting forward, and the well of guilt poured. 

He was drowning. 

“He is right, Cody.” Obi-Wan stepped toward him, eyes softening. “You should be resting, it isn’t advisable to fight a Sith Lord after a major surgery.” 

“With all due respect, sir,” Cody snapped, before adding softly as hurt flashed through Obi-Wan's eyes, “I’m coming.” 

“But Cody…” Obi-Wan started. 

“The lives of our brothers are on the line here,” Cody said, “I will not sit around and wait to protect them.” 

His General met his gaze, eyes softening. Sadness lurked in the corners of his mouth, in the crinkles of his eyes, and the man bit his cheek. 

“I can’t stop you, can I?” Obi-Wan asked.

“No, you can’t.” Cody shook his head, stepping closer to his General and smirking. “Besides, someone has to protect your handsome shebs.” 

Somewhere behind him, his brother gagged. 

But Obi-Wan smiled and a blush peppered over his nose, his eyes glancing away and his head ducking. The scene plucked at Cody’s heart, making the sadness fall away for a moment, and a melody sang through. 

With his heart growing warm, Cody swept up his armor and worked to put it on. Each piece fit, falling into place and clicking within seconds. They added together to create his entire uniform, blocking himself off from the world, and hiding his vulnerabilities. 

On Kamino, he had to put the armor on in less than five minutes. 

Now, he could put it on in less than three. 

He picked up the final piece, his helmet, and shoved it over his head the moment the medbay door slid open. A flash of blond hair darted inside and collided against his side. 

“Cody!” Rex said, hands pushing against him as a frown covered his face. “What happened?” 

“Ah, you made it.” Cody grabbed Rex’s arm and pulled him close. His brother’s heat spread across him as he swung around, pushing him toward Fox’s bed. “Look, I have a very important meeting to go to… but Fox will fill you in on everything.” 

Fox’s head snapped up, eyes glowering as he hissed, “Cody…” 

“You know how he is,” Cody whispered into Rex’s ear, knocking his forehead against his brother’s head, “He’s not cracking easily about what happened, so can you… work some vod’ika magic?” 

Rex glanced at him, before his gaze slowly drifted to their brother, and his lips twitched. He raised an eyebrow and tilted his head. 

“Fox…” Rex began. 

The older clone groaned and turned away, flopping back onto the medical bed with the grace of a cadet. 

Cody clapped Rex’s back. “Good luck.” 

---

“Mando, Cody, wait out here.” Obi-Wan stopped outside of Padme’s office, before glancing back toward the men that had followed him. “Stop anyone that tries to interrupt us.” 

“Of course,” Cody said, “The signal?” 

“You’ll know it when you see it,” Luke replied. 

Cody tilted his head, the helmet almost frowning for him. “Are you sure?” 

“He’s sure,” Mando said. 

Luke smiled at the man before turning to the door. He met Obi-Wan’s gaze and waved toward the door, raising an eyebrow. 

Obi-Wan led the way inside. 

Padme’s office was circular, with large windows that allowed light to flow through at all times of the day. At night, the hanging light fixtures would turn on, brightening the room as if they were stars themselves. Her desk sat close to the windows, showcasing a large space before it where meetings could be held and she could socialize with her friends.
Obi-Wan had spent a night or two sitting there, talking to her and Bail Organa. 

Two figures sat in that area now, leaning toward each other as they talked. Padme laid her head against the back of a couch, while Anakin sat forward with his hands moving through the air. Both smiled at each other, laughing at something that was said, before turning to them. 

“Oh, Master Djarin, Master Kenobi, welcome!” Padme exclaimed, her smile widening. 

“Anakin?” Obi-Wan glanced at his former Padawan, raising an eyebrow. “It’s a surprise seeing you here.” 

“Well, Padme filled me in,” Anakin replied as his lips twitched and his eyes darted between him and Luke, “I thought I could help.” 

“We’ll have to see,” he said before turning to the other Jedi, “Luke…?” 

The time-traveler jolted, eyes tearing away from Padme and Anakin to meet Obi-Wan’s gaze. Curiosity and joy lined his face, before disappearing under a mask that slid over it. 

“I just need a space to meditate,” Luke said, “To reach out and search in the Force.” 

“And you’ll be able to discover who it is?” Padme asked. 

Luke glanced back at her, smiling. “I’ve met them before, I know their Force Signature… They can’t hide it now that I know it.” 

“Oh,” Padme said with a blink, “There’s space over there, please sit.” 

She gestured toward her desk before motioning to the space next to it. 

The area had once been a storage area, Obi-Wan remembered, before Padme had turned it into a makeshift bar. It served more as a snack zone, with a comfortable chair and a small table. The bar held countless numbers of liquors, ranging from the far reaches of the Galaxy to the small store a few levels down. 

Luke nodded to her before gliding past, his cloak wrapping around him and swishing with each stride. The Force bent toward him as his signature flared, slipping into a meditative state before he had even sat down. 

For a moment, Obi-Wan wondered if he could physically see the man reaching out to the Force and possibly, it interacting back with him. 

But he turned away from the thought and joined the pair on the couch. He sat opposite them, taking in each of their signatures with a sigh of relief. They swarmed with warmth, light, and love, as they always had.

“Are you sure he knows who the Sith Lord really is?” Anakin turned away from Luke, shoulders rising as his voice fell lower. 

Obi-Wan resisted the urge to roll his eyes, trying to send assurance toward his brother. “Yes, Anakin.”
“But if he knows, why not just attack them?” Anakin asked, eyes narrowing. 

“He’s planning,” Obi-Wan sighed, “He needs to know that they’re here and whether or not they’re disguised.” 

It was a small lie, hidden behind a layer of truth that rang through the Force. The reality was far more simple: Luke was waiting to confirm that Palpatine was alone, hidden away in his office with his Red Guard troubled elsewhere. Not only would this leave the man without aid, but it would surprise him as well. 

“Then why are you here?” Anakin bit out, the annoyance floating through his tone. 

“He asked me to watch over him while he meditates.” Obi-Wan raised an eyebrow as frustration bubbled in his chest, wondering how he could play this out in a way that Anakin would accept. “He’s afraid the Sith Lord will realize what he’s doing and try to attack him, through the Dark Side.” 

Before Anakin could reply, Padme sighed and turned to him, “Ani…” 

“Yes?” The younger Jedi’s eyes jumped to her, his brows raising and lips pursing together. 

“I trust Master Djarin…” Padme waved a hand, glancing toward the meditating man. “I feel like he’s… he’s good.” 

Anakin’s shoulders dropped. “I know what you mean, but…” 

“Just give him a chance,” Padme added, “He reminded me of you, actually.” 

“Really?” 

Padme laughed, before nodding and smiling. “A little, which is why I think you should give him a chance.”

“Because he reminds you of me?” Anakin’s voice rose, but his eyes narrowed and a crease formed across his forehead.

“Well, and because I think you would get along,” Padme replied.

“I don’t think so!” 

Padme shook her head, shooting the man a look and raising an eyebrow. “You said that about Ahsoka too, but now you’re as thick as thieves.” 

Obi-Wan chuckled, despite himself, and added, “She has you there, Anakin.” 

A retching noise filled the air, followed by the crash of a chair. The three of them swung around as their chests gripped tighter, shoulders rising in shock. A rush of adrenaline poured through Obi-Wan’s heart and he shifted on the couch, eyes catching onto the other Jedi in the room. 

He stumbled toward them, shoulders swaying and feet crashing against the ground. The gentle and floaty gestures that had accompanied the man vanished as he moved, turning into clunky movements. 

“Luke?” Obi-Wan called. 

“Nope…” Luke grabbed his mouth, eyes turning brimming with tears. “I’m gonna throw up…!” 

Pain sprang forward and slammed against Obi-Wan, bringing the taste of blood and static to his mouth. He grimaced and closed his eyes, pulling his shields tight as the younger Jedi stumbled away. 

Out of the corner of his eyes, he saw his former padawan wince and turn away. His fists clenched and he crossed his arms, eyes turning toward the floor. 

Then the pain faded, the office door sliding shut behind the stumbling Jedi. 

Obi-Wan frowned and looked toward the door, taking a step forward. “I’ll go check on him… If you don’t hear from me soon…” 

“I’ll come look for you, don’t worry, Master,” Anakin replied, “Feels like he got hit with something. 

Obi-Wan smiled at his brother. “Thank you, Padawan mine.” 

He could feel the worry and annoyance flowing from his former padawan, the discomfort and guilt that lined Padme’s mind. He pushed them away, focusing on his own urgency as he stepped out of the office and turned down the hall, following the trail left in the Force. 

Palpatine hadn’t attacked Luke, he knew that. There had been no darkness to the pain that had spread across Padme’s office, only the fraying feeling of electricity and sorrow. 

No, Luke had pulled on memory to create the pain that he had shoved at them. 

Something painful enough that he had never forgotten it. 

Obi-Wan slowed as he caught sight of the younger Jedi. His heart clambered back into his chest and washed his urgency away, but it kept the worry close as he looked over the man. 

The man stood between Cody and Mando, his gloved hand pushing through his hair while his other hand gripped the fabric of his clothes. He had a smile on his face, but sweat beaded across his forehead. 

“Luke?” Obi-Wan asked as he stepped closer.

“I’m alright,” Luke said and light poured from his signatures, flecks of greens and blues that reflected across him. “Let’s go.” 

An argument played in Obi-Wan’s mind, but it fell away as Cody leaned forward and spoke in a hushed voice. 

“Fox has sent out an order to not stop us,” He said, “We’re clear to Palpatine’s office.” 

“Alright, follow me,” Obi-Wan sighed. 

---

Obi-Wan flung the doors open, their locks detaching and the metal slabs rolling back into each with a shutter. The scraping and shaking metal sent a shiver down Luke’s spine, but he pushed past it as he stalked forward. 

The office opened up immediately, creating a dome with lights pasted to the ceiling. A window sat at the far end, catching Luke’s eye and screaming toward him. Then his gaze swept around, the Force shimmering toward a red door that sat snug between two columns. Something wavered in his stomach before he turned away. 

Their target sat at his desk, in the middle of the office. It was raised above the floor, only by a few steps, and acted like a throne. The chancellor stared at them, his eyes narrowing and his fingers drawing back toward his wrists. His eyes darted between them all, lips twitching and thoughts brewing. 

“Stand down, Palpatine,” Obi-Wan ordered, voice thundering around the room. 

Luke stepped forward, fingers curling around his lightsaber. “Your time as chancellor is over.”

“The new Jedi,” Palpatine purred, eyes narrowing, “How wonderful.” 

Acid dripped down Luke’s throat as their gazes met. Memories exploded across Luke’s vision as the man’s eyes flashed yellow, his hands clasped together, as he smiled. Even if he was younger and no longer scared, he still was everything that the Emperor had been. 

“The general said stand down!” Cody ordered, stepping forward. 

“I don’t think I will…” Palpatine’s eyes turned to the door. 

Metal screamed as the doors slid shut, sending a bang across the room. 

“I thought that you would do this.” He leaned back in his chair as his eyes glared down on Luke. 

“Come to kill you?” Luke asked as his memories battled to overtake him. 

The Sith Lord sneered. “Why else would a Jedi time travel back?” 

“How do you know that?” Luke lit his saber, holding it up. 

“I have my ways,” Palpatine smirked as the darkness began to revolve around the room. A vortex of fear and anger fledged at the walls, zapping toward its maker and branching with cold. 

A cold that Luke had only ever felt on the second Death Star. 

Palpatine looked toward Cody, his signature rippling around him as he said, “CC-2224, execute order 66.” 

There was a beat before Cody snorted and shook his head. 

“Not happening,” the commander said and raised his blaster toward Palpatine.

“I see, you’ve discovered more than I expected.” The Sith Lord’s eyes narrowed before he rose to his feet and glared. “Alas, you’ll need to have known more than that to kill me!” 

His hand shot out and light exploded, sending static across the room. Instinct rushed through Luke’s limbs, throwing him to the side as the lightning dug into the floor. It sparked through, scorching the fabric and pulling a horrid smell into the air. The crackle stabbed at his ears as he threw up a hand, calling for the Force. 

He imagined a wall of beskar, appearing before him, and the Force moved. Electricity bent around the edges, colliding against the invisible barrier that he had created. Ozone piled over it, filling his nostrils, and crashing against his teeth as he took a ragged breath. 

Pounding filled his ears, his heart punched his ribs and clawed to escape. Tingles erupted across his fingers, gliding down his hands. His lungs seized and froze, air locked inside and decaying. Tears threatened his eyes, dragging their claws across his vision. 

But then silence appeared behind him and his husband pressed a hand into his back, warmth, and steel rushing into his mind. The sway of branches reached above him and sunlight warmed the numbness of his fingers. The wind dried his tears and pushed into his lungs, ripping them open and forcing them to work once more. 

He breathed. 

And threw the shield, slamming the wall into Palpatine and throwing the man back. He landed on his chair with a wheeze as the red doors flew open. 

Red Guards rushed into the room, their weapons zapping and screaming. There were six of them, but the door remained open, and Luke could sense the incoming threats. Their boots echoed through the Force, their weapons laced with the Dark Side. 

“Attack these traitors!” Palpatine cried, pointing toward Obi-Wan. 

The fight began. 

The Guards dispersed onto two sides and lunged into formation, separating their enemies into two. Cody and Obi-Wan fell out of sight as they moved, the sound of blaster fire and lightsaber filling the air. 

Din gripped the back of Luke’s cloak and yanked him backward, falling to one side of the office as three Red Guards stalked around them. His feet scrambled over the ground before finding purchase and instinct shot his arms forward. His lightsaber whirled in his hands before he struck. 

He lunged toward the nearest Red Guard and let the Force guide him. 

The man swept his staff down toward him, the lightning zapping, but he dodged and kicked out. His foot slammed into the man’s knee, the Force pushing it backward. The bones cracked and the man screamed, but he didn’t fall. Instead, he swept forward with his staff once again. 

Luke didn’t bother to dodge this time, swinging upward with his lightsaber and cutting the pole in half. The electricity died as it fell into two pieces, clattering to the ground. 

The Force lit up behind him, a warning as a bolt flew toward him. He swiped backward and caught the zing of ozone as the bolt jolted away, slamming into another Red Guard’s thigh. 

“Watch it, Mando!” Luke called. 

His husband snorted. “Did that on purpose! Like on Hoth!” 

“Oh!” Luke laughed. “Oh, good idea!” 

“Here’s an idea, Dagobah!” Mando called back. 

“Yoda!” Luke struck out in the Force, slamming the first Red Guard into the ground with a resounding snap. 

Then he turned toward his husband as the man kicked and punched. The two Red Guards stumbled into each other, electricity arcing toward each other as their staffs met. They froze as the electricity worked through their armor and garb, burning through. 

But Luke didn’t let them have the time to escape. He pulled back with the Force, before letting it snap. 

Yoda had pulled the same trick on him, hundreds of times. 

The Force slammed into both of the Red Guards and their bodies flew. They crashed into the wall, cracks forming behind them as they slid down and dispersed across the floor. Their staffs crackled and fizzled, before dying. 

Luke turned away, eyes catching onto Obi-Wan as the man raised his lightsaber with a harsh look in his eyes. 

Cody held one of the Red Guards, hand wrapped around the man’s neck as he pulled his arm taught from behind. It bent at an awkward angle, broken and disfigured. But the man’s staff sparked as he swung it backward, the electricity sizzling across white and orange armor. 

Both men stood stuck to each other, neither wielding as death flew toward them. 

Obi-Wan brought his saber down, slashing it across the Red Guard’s working arm. It fell away from him and the staff with it, both clattering to the ground. Then the Jedi slashed again, cutting a scorch from the man’s torso to his shoulder. 

The Red Guard died before he hit the floor. 

“Cody!” Obi-Wan jumped forward, catching the commander as he wavered in place. 

Then metal screamed and the floor shuttered, the main doorway opened once more. The Force wavered as the Jedi stepped through, eyes flickering around the scene and darkness laying waste. His signature exploded, flurries of colors tainting the floor and ceiling. 

Palpatine pushed himself back in his chair, gripping the arms until his knuckles turned white. He looked at the Jedi Knight, eyes widening and mouth falling open. “Anakin! Please, help!” 

“Anakin, no!” Obi-Wan shouted. “Don’t fall for his tricks.” 

“They attacked me, they think I’m a Sith Lord!” Palpatine shouted. 

Anakin lit his saber.

Chapter Text

“What’s going on?” Anakin demanded, a chill filling the room as his Force signature flickered and sparked. It crashed against Luke’s memories and dragged them on, spitting out images of his father standing over him, red blade ignited and his breathing harsh. He shook them away as Kenobi turned to the man, reaching out to speak. But then his voice fell away, choking on air, as Palpatine’s thundered over the room. 

“He thinks I’m a Sith Lord!” Palpatine pointed at Luke. “He’s… he wants to kill me!” 

Luke glared back at him, fingers tightening over his saber’s grip. “You are a Sith Lord!” 

The anger flickered in the back of his throat, rising as his frustration burned a hole into his chest as he glared at the Sith Lord before looking back to his father. His mind begged and begged for the Jedi Knight to understand, to see the facade the Chancellor was using. 

Anakin turned his gaze away from the man, his eyes narrowing as he looked at Kenobi.

“Please, Anakin…” The Jedi Master begged, his voice rising as footsteps began to echo from the Red Door. 

“Master, I told you…” Anakin replied “I pointed it out…” 

Kenobi shook his head, annoyance flickering into the Force. “Anakin, listen to me…” 

“No, Obi-Wan!” Anakin interrupted him, the Force erupting around him in spikes and daggers. “Master Djarin has been sewing chaos the moment he showed up and honestly, I don’t believe a thing he says.” 

Pain scorched through Luke’s chest and his eyes slid closed, tightening before opening again. He doesn’t know who I am, he doesn’t know who I am, he…

“But do you believe me?” Kenobi asked. 

Anakin stilled, his signature flickering with reds and oranges. It dragged at the blacks around him as his eyes flickered to Palpatine before darting back to Obi-Wan. He took a breath before he said, “I know the Jedi have been blind to their actions for a long time, I know that a Sith could easily manipulate them if need be. Djarin has done the same to you.” 

Darkness poured through as Red Guard members stormed into the office. Electricity lit up as their staff slammed against the ground, as they shifted into their defensive stances and stalked around the room. They circled around Kenobi and Cody as the two shifted backward, closer to the windows. 

“Anakin, that isn’t true!” Kenobi shouted across the room.  

The Jedi Knight shouted back, “Use your eyes, master! The Mandalorian follows Death Watches’ way and your supposed Jedi is adorned in black, the color of the Sith! Are you so blind?” 

“Use my eyes?” Kenobi looked as if he had been slapped, his eyes widening and jaw falling open. “Use your senses!” 

“Don’t worry, Obi-Wan,” Anakin replied as he turned away from his master, eyes catching onto Luke. “I’ll save you.” 

The man jolted forward and swung down at Luke, his saber flaring in the light. Instincts kept Luke from being sliced in half, his saber deflecting the hit as he shifted back and into a defensive stance. His mind jumped to his first time fighting his father, the blades of red and blue casting light across the floor and walls. 

But this time, it wasn’t anything like fighting Darth Vader. 

He was fighting his father, Anakin Skywalker, free of the chains that had bound him. 

The suit had been more than life support for his father, it had been robotics that had garnered strength beyond what was human. Every strike from the man was powered by metal and wires, strong enough to dent metal, to puncture ships. They kept the man stable in his power, strong enough to withstand any force and apply that force to everything he did. 

Anakin didn’t have the strength. 

But he did have speed and agility that had never been possible for Vader. 

Each of his strikes came in quick succession, forcing Luke to push his own strength and speed. They came from multiple directions, flinging forward and swinging downward. His movements were precise and trained in him from a young age, and his emotions leaked through to it. 

It was harder to fight Anakin than it was to fight Vader. 

Anakin was so unlike the Sith Lord, so completely different. 

But he wasn’t the only person that was different. 

At twenty-three years old, he had defeated Vader. 

Now in his thirties, he could take on his father. 

Years of his life had been devoted to the Jedi Way. Meditation had become a mainstay in his mornings, his evenings, his dreams. They had drawn him closer to the Force and pushed him to discover its ways. He had dropped into visions and followed the stars, he had tasted the reaches of far space and felt the future in his fingers. His connection to the Force had only strengthened over the years, growing more powerful as he searched to rebuild what had been lost. 

Not only that, he had practiced katas until his muscles were jello and his stomach hungered. He had dragged open his memories, rerunning and redoing everything that Yoda had taught him. Pushing the forms into his mind and muscles, embedding them into his soul, before turning to another source. At some point, he had turned to other blade wielders to learn even more… so that he could teach Din all that he could. 

Luke jumped forward as his father left an opening and pushed his kick toward the man’s chest. The Force swung through it and jolted at the end of his foot, slamming into his father’s chest and sending the man flying. His saber flew through the air as he rolled across the ground. Then the man twisted his body into a flip, throwing himself back to his feet.

His saber! Luke reached through the Force, grabbing onto the object and summoning it closer. 

But then an invisible hand fell across his chest and shoved him back, digging its nails into his chest. He struggled against it as the saber clattered to the ground, throwing one of his hands to claw at the feeling spreading through him. Fear crept in the back corner as his air slowly cut away. 

His eyes slid back to his father as the man stalked closer, his hand outreached as it kept him in place. His other hand swept across the floor and his saber flew back into it. The blue arched to life as he swished it, lowering it toward the floor. 

It flashed red in Luke’s vision, bleeding into memories that were creeping forward. Darth Vader’s voice echoed through his ears and his hands gripped at his heart, squeezing and squeezing. Screams of ties flew past him as the cold surfaces through, and the Sith Lord stalked closer on the crosswalk. 

Blue plasma rose in the air as Anakin appeared before him and struck. 

Luke’s chest tightened as he watched the blue swing toward him. 

Silver glinted past him and slammed into the taller man, the blue arc vanishing as colors merged together and flew to the side. The impact caught in the air as his father’s breath spilled out in front of him and his body was torn away, forced to roll across the office’s floor once again. 

The hand that held Luke in place fell away and his feet pressed back into the ground, his boots supporting him as he regained his balance and sucked in a deep breath of air. His throat groaned and screamed in protest as he moved forward, staring toward the two figures sprawled across the floor. 

His husband’s beskar gleamed as he pushed himself up, leaning back onto his knees as his chest pulled in breaths. He braced himself on one hand, his other traveling to his blaster, as Anakin stumbled to his feet and struck out through the Force. 

Inscinted pushed Luke forward and his hand shot out, an invisible wall of beskar falling between his husband and the Jedi Knight. It caught the attack from his father and wrapped around it, holding it in place as the two battled for dominance. 

“Mando!” Luke shouted and reached out again, dragging his husband backward and to his feet. 

The Mandalorian looked at him, amusement pooling from his armor before he turned back to their opponent. His hand shifted to his belt and pulled a dark rectangle from his side. With a flick, the Darksaber leaped to life and glinted in the air. 

Anakin glowered at them both, looking between both their sabers. 

Then he called his back to his hand, lighting it up and raising it. 

“Come on!” He shouted. “Fight me!” 

---

Fire tore through each of his muscles and blacked the white of his bones. The movements hissed through him and screamed with pain, the tenderness pulling and pushing. Cody’s body fought against him as his General pushed him out of the way, defending him as the Red Guards attacked. 

Love attacked his brain as he watched the man stand over him, using the Force to push away his opponents or his saber to tear their staffs apart. Some insatiable part of his mind caught onto the picture, promising himself to remember always, but a larger part screamed in agony. 

Guilt poured through his limbs as he struggled to move them, lead covered them whole and anchored him to the floor. His heart wailed as his thoughts echoed in his mind, screaming and shouting, kicking and punching. 

Get up, get up, get up, get up. 

But they wouldn’t move, his limbs were stiffened boards that would not break. 

Or were they?
Distantly, a memory waded forth as he struggled to move, as he demanded his muscles to work. It whispered in his ear and dragged at his consciousness, pulling for his attention. A hand had grabbed his shoulder, tucking him into a larger body that towered over him. The pain had scarred his mind, dragging over his muscles, a day's worth of torture training to kill a part of his cadet-old soul.

No matter how much pain you’re in, you can go on. An older voice had said, his oldest brother, his buir, his Alpha-17. You are unbreakable, Kote. You will not give up, because your brothers will not give up.

There was a scar on Fox’s face. 

There were lightning scars choking his throat. 

And still, he had worked, spending hours as a Marshal Commander completing his duty to the Republic. And then he had worked more, spending his free hours as a brother, investigating the corruption around them. 

Cody’s fingers twitched around his spare blaster, dragging it from his hip and his other hand forced him to stand. The world swayed beneath him and wobbled in his vision, but he raised his hands and looked to his General. 

A Red Guard darted at Obi-Wan’s back, staff raised to stab through the man’s heart. 

The bolt pierced through his hood and spattered into his head, the guts of his brain exploding before he hit the floor. 

The Jedi whirled around, eyes wide. “Cody?” 

“Got your back,” Cody rasped, “Obi-Wan.” 

Adrenaline shot through his muscles and burned away the pain as he moved forward, ducking into the fight and slamming his fist against another Guard. 

His training pushed him to the next steps and centered him through his movements. He pulled moves that he hadn’t in a long time and slammed his opponents against each other. Bones broke beneath his feet and hands, his skull burned as he slammed his helmet against their thin red masks. Energy took over his body, his experience turning wild as he shook apart his thoughts and fell into the movements. 

Kamino had crafted him into the perfect weapon, it had taught him how to kill and dispose. He knew how to leave bodies more rugged and degraded than when they arrived, the blood still pumping through them. 

He didn’t like being a weapon, he didn’t like being a killer. 

But he appreciated being able to fight, to protect, and to survive.  

His back brushed against Obi-Wan’s as the fight drew them together. He lowered his blaster as the blue arches from the Jedi’s lightsaber flared around them, creating a protective barrier between them and their opponents. 

“Doing alright?” Obi-Wan asked. 

Cody smirked. “Would be doing better if there were less of them.” 

“Well, let’s see what we can do about that.” 

Then Obi-Wan lunged away from him, leaving a cold that crawled up his spine. A yelp filled the room as he shoved with the Force, a Red Guard thrown through the air and smashing through the window. His screams vanished as he fell from sight. 

Cody ducked away from the scene and attacked another Guard, sending them crashing to the ground after bashing their skull with the butt of his blaster. He wove between his opponents, and his enemies, and tore them apart. 

Everything that had held him back before vanished as he pushed forward and fought, kicking and punching his way. The pain had fallen to the back burner, the aches in his mind had vanished, and his guilt had drizzled dry. 

He was here, fighting and fighting. 

For his brother, for his General, for his future. 

But then his instincts lashed out, latching on to the void of noise that had followed him. 

Obi-Wan’s lightsaber clattered to the ground at his feet as he swung around. 

A Red Guard’s arm strangled Obi-Wan’s neck, feet away from and dragging further. The muscles bulged through his robe and he pulled the Jedi closer to him. Even the fingers that pulled at his arm couldn’t make him let go, his eyes glared through his mask, as he rose to his full height. 

Obi-Wan’s feet barely grazed the floor. 

The corners of his vision filled with red as the remaining Guards surrounded them. Their boots slammed against the ground as they readjusted their weapons and leaned into stances. 

“Surrender or he dies!” One screamed at him. 

Panic rose through his throat as he stared at the Red Guard, thoughts overflowing as he tried to plan and scheme. 

There has to be a way out. 

There has to be a way to save him. 

Obi-Wan…

“Here!” Obi-Wan’s hand rose and pressed against his forehead, his eyes locking on him. “Here, trust me.” 

Cody pushed the panic away from his chest, shoving it below and focusing on his training. He raised his blaster further, finger twitching on the trigger before falling steady. Calm rained through him, his training taking over, and his instincts bleeding out. 

He trusted Obi-Wan. 

The trigger squeezed beneath his finger and the bolt screamed to life, speeding toward Obi-Wan’s head. 

But the Jedi General jolted his head and brushed a hand in front of him. The Force awakened as it deflected the bolt away from him, saving the man from any harm. 

Instead, the bolt passed by him and exploded against the mask of the man holding him. Arms fell limp as the man fell backward, his body slamming against the ground. The impact echoed across the room and grunts accompanied the aftermath. 

Cody twisted his body, pointing to the next Red Guard with his blaster, and glared. 

“Who else wants a bolt through their brain?” 

---

Din wasn’t great at lightsaber combat, but he had gotten good enough to survive when others made him their opponent. He had fought Bo’Katan and Paz, beating them to the ground to prove his worth, and then countless other Mandalorians who had to be convinced. The heaviness that accompanied his saber had flown away as he worked through his life, as he learned to wield it. 

When he had first met his husband, he had tried to ignore the piece on his belt. Getting rid of the thing had been all he had desired, but had chosen him and it was not letting go. It had gripped onto him, finding its way back to him, and had slowed him as he fled across the galaxy. 

It was in his nightmares, until his husband had looked at it and said, “Let me teach you how to use that, I could use your help when searching temples.” 

That had been the start of a long and perilous journey, one that had taught him many things. 

He fell into place beside his husband and moved in tandem. His training took over his hands and legs, guiding him to work alongside a partner. He sprung forward, attacking when his husband defended and threw distractions when his husband hesitated. They moved together as they had learned to, winding together like strings. 

Din knew his husband’s weakness, and Luke knew his. 

They were each other's strength. 

Luke punched out in the Force as Din stepped back, blocking a swing from Anakin. The scream of the sabers hissed as they met, but it didn’t keep Anakin from ducking away from Luke’s hit. He danced around them as he spun his blade, catching their blades as they bared down on him. 

If Din didn’t hate the man, he would have admitted that he was impressed. 

Then his lung squeezed and his throat burned, blood exploded across his tongue as he froze in his spot. Din choked for air as he glared through his visor, pushing hate and fury toward the man as his stomach twisted and twisted. Anakin glared back at him before twisting the hand that wielded his saber, swinging it through the air, and grabbing onto the Force around Luke. 

Din’s stomach screamed as his husband was flung through the air and slammed into Palpatine’s desk. His head bashed against the edge, cracking the wood down the middle. Luke’s body rolled to the floor, arms sprawling across him, and legs bending. The awkward angle hid any sight of the man, except for the blood that was beginning to stain the floor. 

Above him, Palpatine let out an annoying yelp and cowered back into his chair. His hands hid his face, but his eyes looked out with a wide shine. 

Panic ripped through Din as he looked back to his husband, the man still not moving. His chest was screaming, but he was torn away from the sight as Anakin turned to him. The man swished his blade before darting forward and swinging it at him. 

It bounced off the beskar of his arm. 

I can move! Din heaved and jolted backward. 

The Jedi Knight attacked again and swung toward his shoulder, only to glide off as it hit beskar once again. 

“So, that is real beskar?” Anakin huffed, brows furrowing. “I thought my blade was bouncing off of you before…” 

Din swung, his fist smashing into Anakin’s jaw. 

The man yelped and scrambled to the side, grabbing onto his jaw and glaring. “Did you just punch me?” 

The Force brushed against Din’s armor, sliding over the beskar and rippling against it. The familiar touch sent him forward, reminding him of the one thing that most Jedi weren’t great at. 

Hand-to-hand combat.

The man yelled as he tackled him and pinned him to the floor, slamming the back of his head against the carpet. He grappled as the man kicked and pushed, squirming beneath him and calling for the Force. The air swung around him as he swung an arm back and forward, his fist slamming into the man’s nose. Then again, slamming against the man’s cheek. 

“Get off of me!” Anakin spat through blood, catching the Force and shoving Din backward. 

The office whirled around him, bleeding with colors of red and orange. He hit the ground a moment later as the ceiling looked down at him, his shoulders aching, but his instincts screamed danger into his gut. The feeling sent electricity down his bones, adrenaline into his arms, and he rolled to his knees. 

Blaster in hand, he aimed at Anakin and began to fire. The bolts slammed into the man’s saber and jolted across the room. They deflected back toward him but bounced off of his beskar. 

Annoyance played across the man’s forehead before he began to stalk forward. 

A flash of green arched in the corner of his visor. 

Relief flooded through his stomach as he caught the sight of his husband, the man standing tall and raising his saber. The screeches of his saber arched through the air as he turned away from them, facing the real threat that was hiding in the room. 

Palpatine stared up at Luke, lips drawing back into a sneer.

“Hey!” Anakin screamed and reached out. 

Luke flew backward, down the steps of the platform. 

His feet skimmed the ground as he whirled, his arm lashing out and throwing the Force back at his father. The light hit his face as he turned, revealing the mess of blood that poured from a cut across his forehead. It dripped down his brows, sliding into his eyes, and hugged the crook of his nose. Finally, the path of blood dripped from his lips and chin, hitting the floor in droplets. 

Luke’s eyes had fallen closed, squeezed shut as he raised his lightsaber and refocused his grip. He shifted on his feet as his body turned toward his father.

My husband has always fought best when blind, Din thought, ner riduur.

Then his husband darted forward, faster than before, and struck out. His movements became more agile, his body letting loose as he used the Force to guide each of his movements. Each attack grew faster, more ferocious, with the strikes creating loud impacts and his feet bouncing off the floors and walls. 

The ferocity was met equally by Anakin. Concentration appeared across his face as he swept through, pulling off complicated skills and movements. His back fell toward Din, his burning attention ripped away. 

He could breathe, just for a moment. 

But he had something more important to do. 

Din’s gaze slid away from the fight, turning to the middle of the office. Palpatine gripped the edges of his chair, leaving forward with a smile that crept toward his eyes and revealed his teeth. He licked his lips as his eyes bore toward Anakin and Luke. 

Beskar hides you. Luke had once said. It’s difficult to notice you in the Force. 

The space between him and the Sith Lord grew smaller, his feet pulling him over the floor. His boots softened the impact of his feet, taking away the sound that would give him away. His blaster found its way to his hand, the grip tight and the metal heavy. 

The safety flicked off with a loud snap as he raised it to the man’s head, pressing it into his temple. 

---

There was a scream, then everything turned dark. Blood rained through the Force and blanketed him, rot and death rising to tickle his nose. His stomach shriveled and his heart fell flat, fear creeping into him as anger faded into the background. 

Anakin turned as the darkness was replaced by flashing lights, arches of lightning that bounced off of beskar. Everything bore down on him as he realized, as he realized…

The Mandalorian screamed. 

“No!” Luke screamed and swung out, his hand gripping the air. 

The Force slammed into Palpatine, sending him flying back into his chair. His lightning vanished as he croaked, groaning out of his throat and glaring with bright yellow eyes. 

“You’re…” Anakin whispered. “You lied.” 

Palpatine’s eyes met him, a sneer catching his cheeks. 

Beams of light rippled around Obi-Wan as he continued to fight mountains of Red Guards, but his flames rose around him as he glared over his shoulder. His thoughts screamed down the bond, You believe me now?

Anakin stared back at his former Master, annoyance on the back of his tongue before he turned to the other Jedi. Luke took a deep breath, his hand outstretched as he held Palpatine back from the Mandalorian. 

“I’m sorry,” Anakin told him. 

Luke’s head tilted, blood slid down his cheek. “I know.” 

“Truce?” He asked. 

The Jedi glared back at Palpatine, his lips drawing backward in a sneer. “Help me kill this fucker and I’ll think about it.” 

The ripple of anger that flowed through the Force slammed into him. It throttled around the man, enclosing his throat and screaming with reds. It crawled up the back of his head, its parasitic hands trembling over his ears and hair. The anger, the hate had been intertwined in Luke’s words, threatening to overtake him, but then he stepped forward. 

All of it vanished. It slid out from his shoulders and dumped to the floor, left behind. It disintegrated into dust. 

“Get Mando.” Luke raised his saber. 

Anakin nodded. “Alright.” 

The Jedi Master sprung forward as twin arcs of light appeared, drenched in blood and sizzling with death. Palpatine met his attack as the Dark Side wrapped around his arms. 

The screams of sabers and bolts echoed around Anakin as he rushed forward. His limbs jolted him as he landed next to the Mandalorian and kneeled down. Strings of energy floated from scorched marks of armor, nearly hiding the thrumming warmth beneath. It shivered as he ran a hand across it, his shoulders sagging. 

The Force worked with him as he wrapped it around the man and slid him away from the fight. A groan rolled through and his arms quivered as he pushed him to the far wall, gently landing in the space nearest the entryway. Mando’s consciousness slowly peppered back to life, but he was already turning away. 

Energy swarmed through him as the Force shifted and pulled at his limbs. He stepped forward and sank into it, feeling the pins of light catch him and connect to his limbs. They guided him through the movements as he joined the fight, his saber lighting and slamming into red. 

A feeling pulled at his side and he moved with it, shifting as Luke suddenly jolted into the space and struck at the Sith Lord. 

Then it struck Anakin, more than it had before. 

Of course, he had already realized that Luke was relying on the Force to see. 

But it was more than that, he was using it to guide himself: his movements, his attacks, his blocks. It told him where everything was, but it told him when to strike, where to stand, when to defend, and what others would do too. 

The connection flowed through the man, tethering him to everything and everyone. 

Just as the Force is. 

And Anakin felt it now. 

The Force twisted him to the side and whispered in his ear, pushing him to attack or pulling him away. His feet glided over the spaces and sprung forward, his body sank into the tethered moment and harnessed it. He pushed through the motions and learned. 

Everything he needed to know would come from the Force, but what to do with that information was up to him. 

He swung his saber as his fighting partner dodged another attack. His muscles ached as he moved forward, swinging and blocking. His moments had grown faster, matching the speed that Luke was setting, and they dragged into dangerous areas as they grew closer while parrying blows or switching places. 

Each of them was guided by the Force now, dragging them into their places and tethering them together. They were working as one, but it was difficult to think as one. Their teamwork was still choppy.

“Sorry!” Luke yelped as he dipped by, his hair nearly cleaved off as Anakin lashed forward at Palpatine. 

Anakin snorted. “Stick to your side!” 

“Easier said than done!” The Jedi Master retorted and swung at Palpatine, blocking an attack. 

The conversation jolted something through the Dark Side, its tendrils spreading out and wrapping around the walls. Decaying flesh slid across Anakin’s face, slithering into his skin. He gagged, pushing forward. 

His next blow filled with power, was driven by the Force and slammed against Palpatine’s saber. 

“They’ll never accept you!” The man cried as he stepped back, staggering. “You’re a horrible Jedi, you’ve told me yourself!” 

Anakin gritted his teeth and swung down again, putting as much power into the strike as he could. “Shut up!” 

Palpatine deflected the blow to the side, the Dark Side jumping out from his signature. “He has a wife! He broke the Jedi code!” 

“Who cares?” Luke slashed forward at the man, the tip of his saber scorching through the man’s fingers. The chancellor screamed as one of his lightsabers bounced away and his fingers dropped to the floor. 

Something in Anakin’s heart cracked at the words, at the way the Jedi disregarded the fact and flew forward. He seemed so certain of what he said as he fought the Sith Lord. 

“He nearly murdered an entire group of people!” Palpatine hissed, pulling his hand to himself and raising his last saber. “Tuskens, on Tatooine!” 

This time, neither of them replied as Luke jolted forward and slammed his saber against Palpatine’s. The colors exploded into light, hissing, as Anakin swung his saber up. It cut through the man’s bicep, sizzling the bones and muscles. His hand immediately dropped his second saber.

Screams leaped from Palpatine’s throat as he staggered backward and the Dark Side exploded, circling around him. It raged and spat cold and darkness, fear creeping over their skins and spreading the smell of decay. It worked into their clothes as the man hit the ground, glaring up at them. 

“He’s nearly a Sith himself, he’s used the power of the Dark Side!” He screamed again.

Luke froze and Anakin’s heart screeched, staring at the man and waiting. Fear swept through his stomach as the second grew longer.

Then the man sighed, stepping closer to the Sith Lord and towering over him. “So have I.” 

Disbelief flew through the Force and trickled from the Dark Side at the man’s words, but he stood firm as the blood dripped down his face and soaked the carpet. If his eyes had been open, Anakin imagined that he would have been glaring. 

But it didn’t matter.

The Sith Lord screamed. “I’ll kill you!” 

Lightning branched from the man’s fingers and jolted forward. It arched through the air before racing down and covering Luke’s body. The man screamed and dropped, falling backward off the steps and rolling to the floor. Pain erupted through the Force and exploded across it, searing into Anakin’s skin and soul. 

He felt himself break from the inside as the man screamed. The windows of the office shook and cracked. 

He had expected the man to move out of the way, to dart from the position, but he had frozen in his place. It was as if someone had paused a video, keeping him from running away and saving himself. 

Fear leaped through Anakin’s throat and his bones moved, his heart pumping as his thoughts took over. 

Save him! Save him!

He swung out with his saber, closing his eyes as the plasma blade made the connection with the Sith Lord’s neck. The Dark Side screamed through his ears and past his bones, whining into oblivion. Its voice tempered away, squealing into a quiet whisper. 

Anakin’s eye slid open and passed over the ground, his stomach curling as the figure that lay limp beneath his feet. A saber screamed in the background, blaster fire accompanying it, but his thoughts zeroed in on the head. Lifeless eyes stared up at him, drenched in yellow, stained for a lifetime, and mouth agape. Skin sizzled along Palpatine’s neck, the saber’s cut had cauterized the wound as it slid through, leaving the smell of cooked flesh and burning bones. 

The sight kicked at his chest and he tore his eyes away, catching onto his former Master and the relief that was pumping through their bond. Despite himself, he sunk into the bond and begged his master to be over with his fight, to live through this. 

Obi-Wan’s blade arched through red armor as Cody’s bolts rained past him. 

“He’s gone,” Luke whispered. 

Anakin looked back at the man. “Master Djarin?” 

“Gone,” Luke said again, "He's gone."

The Jedi Master staggered backward and collapsed to the floor, his hands catching him as his eyes stared at the body in front of him. The sounds quieted around them, blaster fire dying away and a saber disigniting. 

A flash of silver was at Luke’s side before Anakin could move. 

“Ner riduur,” the Mandalorian asked, “Are you okay?” 

The words went over his head, the foreign language drifting through his ears but not filtering through his mind, but he could see the tenderness in the man’s actions. His fingers scraped over Luke’s forehead, wiping away the blood that was trickling and drying. They swept over the Jedi’s eyes, revealing the blue iris that blinked open and squinted at the world. 

The Jedi smiled, but before he could reply, another voice shouted. 

“You’re married?” Cody’s arms jumped to his helmet, ripping the piece of armor off. “Married?” 

Anakin raised his hands, ready to defend himself as he turned to the clone commander, but stilled as the man stalked toward the two figures kneeling on the ground. Disbelief and frustration rippled from the man, but they were overshadowed by the taste of light and amusement that beamed forward. 

Somehow, Cody was happy that they were married. 

“I’m not the only married Jedi?” Anakin muttered.

His master’s gaze locked in on him, shoulders falling and his eyes softening. “Anakin… oh, padawan mine…”

Luke laughed, bringing the attention back to him as he looked up at the commander and Jedi Master. “Well, it has been a year or so, but yes, we’re very happily married.” 

“I just lost so many bets to Wolffe and my men,” Cody said. “Including you, Anakin.” 

Anakin’s attention snapped to the commander, confusion welling through his mind. “What?” 

“Everyone knew that you and Amidala were together,” Obi-Wan answered him, sighing again, “But married?” 

“I… I’m sorry, Master…” Anakin tried. 

Obi-Wan gave him a look, frustration, and amusement flooding from him. “We can talk more about it later when I’m not so upset that you didn’t invite me to the wedding.” 

Surprise hooked itself into Anakin’s heart, followed by the refreshing kiss of relief. His shoulders sagged as he looked at his Master, as he felt assurance and love flow through the bond between him. 

It was broken when the Mandalorian asked, “Can we go to the medbay now?” 

---

A sheet had been pulled around the bed, separating them from the room. Privacy thrived within their bounds and Luke’s husband took advantage of that. His armor sat at the foot of the bed, his flight suit open as he pressed the edges of bacta patches. Each one met a grimace and a roll of annoyance through the Force. 

Scars curled up his wrists, branching out across the skin in white against tan. They would dull over time, fade on the edges like Luke’s had, and possibly disappear. He was lucky that they were only accompanied by thin cuts, keeping the scars to a minimum. 

Luke raised his hand, pressing his fingers against Din’s wrist. He outlined the scars, tracing them with his fingertips. 

“Want me to do that for you too?” Din asked. 

“Trace my scars?” Luke asked. 

His husband glanced up at him. “I’ve done that before.” 

A chuckle snorted out of Luke’s throat, his head ducking as he looked at his own bacta patches. They traced up his arms and across his back, a few sticking to spots on his legs. The one plastered against his forehead was leaking a chemical smell. 

“Nothing happened.” Din reached forward, fingertips falling onto scratches circling around his bicep. “We killed him, but nothing happened.” 

Luke swallowed and sighed, “I was afraid that would happen.” 

“What do you mean?” His husband’s voice grew softer, rasping through the modulator.

Fear crept through Luke’s heart, cold and sharp. He took a breath as he looked down, gaze drifting over his husband's fingers. 

“I was afraid that it was only one thing we had to do, that more would be required of us,” Luke admitted. 

“Like what?” 

“Help end the war, fix the corruption…” Luke listed and looked up, staring through Din’s visor. 

His husband stared, but his fingers squeezed Luke’s arms and his thumbs ran over his skin. The Force twitched in the background, sinking into them with hooks as his husband leaned closer. 

“I miss Grogu,” Din finally said.

Tears pulled at Luke’s eyes, tugging at his heart as the Force spiraled around the planet. He leaned in and whispered, “I do too, I do too…” 

An arm wrapped at him, Din pulled him to his side and tucked him under his arm. His helmet pressed against Luke’s head, pushing his hair into a bunch. Love wafted from his husband and dove into him, clutching onto his heart and feeding his soul. It shoved through the sorrow and longing that filled him. 

“We’ll figure it out together… we will,” Din said. 

Luke sobbed, whispering, “ Mhi solus tome, mhi solus dar’tome, mhi me’dinui an, mhi be’juri verde. ” 

As his voice cracked over the last words, his forehead pushed against Din’s helmet and his eyes fell closed. 

“ Mhi solus tome, mhi solus dar’tome, mhi me’dinui an, mhi be’juri verde ,” Din whispered and tugged him closer. He pressed the side of his helmet against Luke’s cheek, spreading a refreshing cold that spilled across his nose and neck. 

The Force pulled at Luke’s thoughts and pushed colors across his eyes. Blue streaks appeared and raced, screaming around him in the symphony of hyperspace. The cold touched his shoulder before falling away and fading, crossing past him.

His husband brought him out of his thoughts. “Help me with my armor?” 

“Always,” Luke answered. 

---

Obi-Wan leaned back against the medical bay wall, eyes caught onto the scene in front of him. Cody leaned back in his bed, his lips pulled back and his nose scrunched up as Fox leaned over him. The Guard Commander spit curses and insults as he looked at the bacta patches covering his brother, ignoring the other brother with them. The three brothers bickered with each other, voices rising in the room and echoing across the walls. 

“Did you not trust me, vod?” Rex finally asked. 

A sigh rolled out of Cody’s throat, tickling the amusement rising in Obi-Wan’s stomach. “It wasn’t that, vod’ika, it was more a matter of time and ability.” 

Light flashed across Rex’s eyes, the understanding clashing against the annoyance as his shoulders shifted and his lips softened. He leaned forward and raised an eyebrow. 

“He’s lying,” Fox said, casting a smirk toward his brothers, “He means he wanted to protect you, on top of not having time or ability.” 

Rex’s brows raised, his voice rising. “I’m not a cadet anymore!” 

Cody snorted and grabbed his brother’s shoulder, squeezing. “You’re right, but you’re still my vod’ika.” 

A groan left the younger clone, his eyes rolling as he glared toward his brothers. He crossed his arms as he sat back, fingers clutching his biceps. The indignation rose in the air, tickling Obi-Wan’s nose.

A loud chuckle left his lips before he could stop himself, his lips pulling at his cheeks and he watched the men. He met Cody’s eyes, mirroring the calm presence that came over them.

“The council calling you?” Cody asked him. 

He sighed, “Of course, they want a report.” 

“Already?” Fox grumbled as silent laughter rose through the Force, circling around Cody. Relief fluttered after that, settling in between the two men and sighing. 

A question rose in Obi-Wan’s mind, but he waved it away as the three brothers leaned into each other and laughed. Love and amusement were contagious, circling around them and sprouting across the surfaces. It swayed the reasons and tensions that filled his soul, scoring it away for another moment, for a time when he could allow it.

“The sooner, the more accurate my memory,” Obi-Wan finally answered, “We’ll be discussing more than what occurred.” 

“What else?” Rex’s head snapped to him. 

He glanced at Fox, the man’s eyes narrowing for a moment before understanding circled around him. He snorted and leaned into Cody, crossing his arms. 

“How we’re going to go about the corruption of the senate,” Obi-Wan answered, “And I plan to propose that once the war ends… the temple makes a strong effort to cut ties with the Republic.” 

Shock shot through the Force, reverberating through the air and slamming into him. He smiled at the two men staring at him, the way that Fox’s disbelief licked at the shock and Rex’s confusion waded through it. 

Cody snorted and slid further into his bed, shuffling to get comfortable. This wasn’t something he hadn’t heard before. 

“The senate has too much control over the Jedi, it is affecting everything that we do,” Obi-Wan explained, “Affecting our teachings, our lives, our responsibilities, for the worse.” 

Eyes flickered around him, thoughts floated into the air and strung across the Force. It grew tighter as Rex asked, “So, you want to separate?” 

“Yes, but, it won’t be simple and there are a lot of things to consider,” He replied, “Like the lives of all your men, your brothers.” 

Gratitude sprung forward and circled around Obi-Wan as he smiled at the men. Relaxation slowly crept into each of the men, the droning motions of the medical bay working into them. Fox’s lips softened and his side leaned back against Cody’s bed, elbows digging into the cushions next to his brother’s leg. Rex leaned back in his own chair, glancing back toward his brothers. 

“Thank you,” Fox said. 

Obi-Wan smiled. “Don’t thank me yet.” 

“Get going then,” Cody challenged him, “Don’t be late.” 

“When am I ever?” He chuckled, before stepping away. 

The journey to the Jedi Temple rolled past him, his thoughts too preoccupied to remember the path and directions that he had taken. His emotions rose above him and scored past his tongue, leaving a taste of blood and sorrow. Anxiety was filtering through, he had realized with a breath. It drove through him as he realized that now, his present, was dealing with the fallout of killing a Sith Lord. 

A Sith Lord that had changed and manipulated everything, who had planted seeds across the Senate and the planets in the galaxy. If that hadn’t been enough, he had helped fund the millions of droids that his men were responsible for fighting, that his men had died because. 

And he had the gall to pretend to be nice to him, to his brother, to his friends.

The emotions and thoughts clung to him as stepped into the middle of the Council Room, taking in the many figures that surrounded him and their signatures in the Force. Most members were missing, occupied by their places on the front lines, but a few still remained. 

They looked at him as he stepped up, worrying clouding through before simmering to the floor. 

“Palpatine was the Sith Lord whom we were looking for.” He pulled his holoprojector out. It jumped to life, spitting the image of two sabers circling each other. “These sabers are evidence, along with medical accounts of numerous people attacked with Force lightning, of his power.” 

The questions began and bombarded him, dragging him back through the day and the horrors that had occurred. He recounted the events that had taken place, leaving out the emotions that had coursed through him and the fear that had threatened him. His voice leveled as he answered every query, explained the details, and brought out Palpatine’s true identity. 

Relief filled the Force, but apprehension followed it. So many things had happened in only a few hours, things that would change the course of history.

“Now that he’s dead, we must turn to the war,” Windu sighed.

Fisto glanced at the man, exhaustion leaking from him as he sighed, “Right, it’s not over yet.” 

“About that…” Obi-Wan motioned Thorn closer as small amounts of grays circled him, anxiety creeping through him. “We will be fighting a battle on the front lines as well as at home.”

The commander cleared his throat as all eyes turned to him, his hands latching behind his back and helmet tilting upward.

“The Coruscant Guard has begun investigations into the Senate for separatist connections, stemming from connections to Palpatine,” He said, “Normally, CorSec would be favored for this investigation, but due to the connection to the war and the livelihood of clones, we have taken over.” 

“Trust the Guard more, I do,” Yoda stated with a tap of his cane, “CorSec corrupted too, I think.” 

“That does bring another matter to the table.” Obi-Wan looked at the Grandmaster, his stomach attaching to the tension growing around them. “The Guard will be in charge of clearing corruption away, but they must have backing from us because they are not considered sentient by law.” 

Cold rested over the floor as his words traveled around the room. Each member already knew the law, but none liked to confront it so directly. 

Bilaba spoke first, her eyes softening as she looked to Thorn, “I believe that is reasonable.” 

“As do I,” Windu agreed. 

The clone commander’s head swiveled, swinging between the two Jedi Masters. Shock and awe exploded into the Force, his voice cracking as he asked, “Really?” 

“Release dual statements, we will.” Yoda gripped his cane and smiled. “Taking over the investigation and how they will conduct it, the Coruscant Guard will discuss. Backed by the Jedi, they are.” 

“My men are already putting together a statement,” Thorn said.

Windu looked at him. “Report directly to me the status of the statement, I will conduct an official statement to be put out.” 

“Is there another subject to discuss, Obi-Wan?” Shaak Ti turned to him, her blue form flickering as she shifted in her spot.

“There are two.” His fingers brushed against the hair of his beard. “Firstly, Kamino has been placing control chips within all clones. My CMO, Helix, will send the evidence, schematics, and more information, to you all on the subject. The basic understanding you need is that the chips can be used to control troopers, wipe their memories, and leave them without any autonomy.” 

Discomfort and anger shot through the Force and mixed into an abundance of shock. The metallic taste lingered over his mouth as the Council members turned to each other, words jumping through them and casting through the motions. Justices and ideas tugged at his heart, guiding his eyes to Shaak Ti. 

Though he could not feel her shock in the Force, he could see the narrowing of her eyes and the way her fingers curled into her palm. 

She spoke, her voice strained, “I was not aware of this.” 

“We discovered it yesterday,” he told her, “My Commander volunteered to have his removed.” 

“Successful, was it?” Yoda asked.

“Yes, nothing has changed.” He thought back to Cody, the glee that had passed through him when Palpatine’s order failed. “He is being watched carefully by Helix.” 

“This chip must be removed from all troopers then,” Bilaba said, “It is a danger to all of society.” 

“Agreed, but how could we possibly do that?” Fisto leaned forward, hands gesturing. “There are over a million men.” 

“Kenobi, have you any idea?” Shaak Ti asked. 

“No, I don’t and I think it would be best discussed after more information is made available,” he admitted, before adding, “The Coruscant Guard should be de-chipped first, nevertheless, because they will face the dangers of corruption where it likely sprouted.”

Shock rained through Thorn’s signature again, his head snapping between the Councils once again. The man’s arms tightened around his back, his shoulders rising. Before he could speak, another member spoke.  

“We will gather the Commanders,” Windu announced, “And discuss how to move forward.” 

“What was the other point that you wanted to make, Obi-Wan?” Bilaba asked. 

“When this war ends,” he answered, “It is paramount that the Jedi Order separate from the Senate. We all have spoken of the power that the Republic holds over us and the positions that it has put us in, and how it has affected our lives on an intricate level. Yet, we have made no move to leave… I will personally look into how it would be possible for us to do so, along with gaining clones sentient rights.” 

And, he thought to himself, Maybe I can change how you all see attachments… demonstrate the difference between possession and love. 

---

Padme’s apartment was several stories up, roughly a twenty-minute walk away from the Senate Building but a thirty-minute walk from the medical bay. Anakin walked the entire way, dodging past people and eyeing the occasional speeder that whizzed past. Bruises ached across his joints and muscles, his nose stung. 

Helix had cleared him, an unimpressed look in his eyes as he said, “I’m notifying Kix that you have a minor concussion, light work only.” 

“Please, I’ll tell him,” Anakin had said. 

“No, you won’t.” 

Medics were annoying and stubborn, but Anakin did appreciate them. Sometimes. 

But Helix had let him leave and Anakin had gripped onto the Force, feeling it ripple around him and wind against his chest. It circled around him as he walked, ticking and ticking. He listened for a moment, before pushing it out of his mind and focusing on the road ahead. 

Soon enough, he found himself standing outside his wife’s apartment and waiting for the door to slide open. Over the years, security measures had been pushed to the limit by her handmaidens. They constantly were adding new gadgets and gizmos that sometimes even gave him a headache. But after numerous assassination attempts on his wife, he couldn’t say that he didn’t like them. He’d rather that they be there for her sake than not. 

Finally, the door beeped and slid open. 

He stepped inside and followed the hallway, sliding into the living room that opened wide. Sunlight poured through the sharp windows, angling toward the couches that curled around the middle. His eyes caught onto the woman in the middle, her hair flowing across her shoulders and a red dress hanging to her body. 

“Padme,” he called. 

She looked up and smiled, the floor rushing past her as she darted forward. Her body collided against his, arms wrapping around his neck and pulling him down. Warmth leaped between them and hung tight to their bodies. 

The Force grew heavier, whispering in his ear. 

“Are you alright?” Padme pulled out his arms and reached up, her fingers ghosting over his face and smoothing the edges of his nose.

Anakin leaned into the touch, catching her eyes. “I am now.” 

“Is Obi-Wan okay?” She asked. 

“He is.” 

“So you made it to him in time.” Padme leaned back, letting her hand drop to his shoulder. She smiled softly, the Force spiraling around them. “I was so worried when he didn’t come back.” 

Her hands slipped to his hands as she stepped toward one of the couches. Silently, she coaxed him to join her as she sunk into the cushions. She rested her shoulder against his, eyes turning to stare up at him. 

“What happened?” She asked. “They’re saying Palpatine is dead.” 

“He is,” he admitted, “It turns out that he was the Sith Lord.” 

“No, no…” Her eyes grew wide and she turned away from him. 

His heart ached as she stared toward the wall, emotions flowing through her eyes and leaking into the air around her. He could taste the disbelief in the air, he could feel betrayal and guilt rolling off of her. 

“Palpatine?” She asked, the Force pulled. “Really?” 

He swallowed, nodding, “Yes.” 

“Ani…” 

He pulled her close to him as her shoulders began to shake. Arms wrapped around her, his Force signature falling across her as if a shield. Her head was tucked underneath his jaw and her face was buried in his neck. Each shuddered breath tickled his collarbone, settling with heat. 

“I know,” he finally said, “But it’s not our fault, we didn’t know… how could we know?” 

“He helped me so much…” She whispered, guilt bleeding across her words. 

Anakin grimaced, his eyes squeezing shut as her words kindled the flames within him. “And he helped me too, but it was just a lie.” 

“He… he used us.” Padme scoffed and her shoulders raised, eyes flashing to the side. “Unbelievable, he… what a pathetic greaseball!” 

The fire burning in her eyes could have warmed him for a thousand days and then some, she could have powered his soul for the rest of his life with that look. Her brows crinkled as her lips pursed, mirroring the feeling that welled within his chest and had found a home in his stomach. 

“He’s dead,” he told her, “I killed him.” 

Padme’s eyes widened before they flickered to him, the string of Force tightening further again. “Good, because I would have killed him myself if you hadn’t.” 

A thousand other thoughts were working through her mind, surfacing into her shoulders and the tilt of her lips. Thinking toward the future, the next steps, the justice that she and the people of the galaxy deserved. Each thought trickled through and pounded through his heart, seeping into his mind. 

Anakin breathed, staring at her. “Padme, can I kiss you?” 

She stared up at him and smiled. “Please, do.” 

The Force grew brighter, stronger in his senses, and tighter around his chest. He leaned into it and let it guide him, his lips pressing against hers. Warmth burst between them and beat through his bones, growing and growing until the Force snapped. 

Then the world around them exploded.