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fanfic-obsessed · 3 months

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Time Given and Taken

This one is another time travel fix-it, also somewhat AU even beyond the time travel. Our time travelers are Obi Wan Kenobi and Commander Cody, both from after their own deaths. Let’s even put it after the Empire falls.

They have reunited and through Force Shenanigans are sent back to five years before the Clone wars start (dealers choice if they chose to go back or just found themselves back in time), they land specifically on Ord Mantel, their bodies have been reformed at peak age and physical fitness (Late 20’s), there is not chip in Cody’s head and his aging has been slowed to match Obi Wan’s force assisted aging (Look if the Force has to build their bodies anyway it might as well get the best results possible); but we’ll get back to them in a moment.

Now The Force did have to make some preparations for them, as it could not have two versions of the same soul existing in this universe at the same time. Thus, in this universe,during the Naboo crisis Padawan Obi Wan Kenobi died in place of his Master Qui Gon Jinn. Jinn was still struck by Maul and Obi Wan did still bisect the Sith, but then the Padawan used a nearly unknown healing technique to heal Qui Gon at the expense of his own life. Padawan Obi Wan’s last words to his master were ‘You said the boy needed to be trained, now you can’. He was mourned by everyone who knew him.

That same year Unit CC-2224 was decanted stillborn, which happened at about the same rate of stillborns/miscarriages in natborn births. The Kaminoans did the typical cursory exam to make sure there was not a larger issue, and found that there had been a small difference in the nutrients in CC-2224’s growth pod that resulted in the stillbirth. No one knew to mourn the being he would have been at all.

Having Qui Gon Jinn as a master did not actually make things better, or easier, for Anakin; though it also could be argued that it did not make things significantly worse either. It was different though. Though Qui Gon had more experience than Obi Wan would have in the original timeline, there were other issues now at play. And Anakin was growing up in the blinding light of the memory of Obi Wan Kenobi, the perfect Jedi padawan who killed a Sith then died to save someone. He was also growing up in the shadow of Xanatos, the talented, powerful former padawan that Fell and died a decade ago. This is offset, just a bit, by Feemor coming back, telling Qui Gon that he could kriff off with his repudiation and installed himself as Anakin’s Padawan brother (“like I should have with little Obi Wan”). It is made worse by Anakin overhearing the wrong parts of a few conversations that heavily implied Obi Wan died because he felt he had little left to live for (Because Obi Wan was being replaced by Anakin)

It is likely that, left alone, growing up with the ghost (in tha he haunted the narrative, not that he was actually there) of Obi Wan would have made Anakin resentful of his dead padawan brother. However Palpatine, who he still had frequent private meetings with (look no one was suspicious of this happening the first time around, Qui Gon would likely not have felt it was suspicious either), never met any potential resentment that he could not turn to his advantage. Instead of letting resentment grow for Obi Wan, Palpatine instead leaned into this saintly memory of a young man Anakin only spent a little time with (a lot of, ‘I’m sure young Obi Wan would not have treated you like that’), something similar to what he supposedly did with Qui Gon in canon. Basically polishing the image of Obi Wan Kenobi in Anakin’s head until the dead Padawan could do no wrong. Palpatine could have eventually used the memory of Obi Wan to further separate Anakin from the Jedi (“The Jedi let Obi Wan Die/Got Obi Wan Killed because he was the last good Jedi” kind of rhetoric).

Had the dead man stayed dead.

With that established we step back to 5 years before the Clone wars were due to break out, Ord Mantel, where Cody and Obi Wan find themselves appearing, young bodies, old minds, and a small amount of the local currency (not enough to destabilize the economy, but enough to start gambling with). They quickly, and quietly, win enough money to buy a small cruiser (taking care to keep their individual ins small enough not to catch the attention of anyone), just big enough for the two of them.

Then they make their way to Kamino.

They very deliberately decide not to go to the Jedi just yet. There are a number of reasons. Some are trauma based (the last time Obi Wan was Coruscant he was walking through the ruins of the temple and finding the bodies of children; the last time Cody was on Coruscant he was deserting the empire after Desix). Some are for practicality(Coruscant is Palapatines domain already; They do not realize that their alternate selves are dead here and do not want to run into Knight Obi Wan). But the main reason comes from the fact that Order 66 caused two genocides, Jedi and Clone. They both reasoned that, while focusing on preventing the Jedi genocide (Going to the Jedi, killing Palpatine) would not necessarily prevent the Clones from being abused, used, and trapped by the chips, Freeing the Clones would, by the very nature of what happened, prevent the Jedi from being killed.

So they go to Kamino. Talk their way into Tipoca City and to speak with Jango Fett. First they help Jango remove his head from his ass and realize exactly what he did (effectively selling his genetic children into slavery to destroy a culture for revenge he was clinging to in order to keep from facing his culpability in what happened-Not only were the Jedi lied to at Galidraan, Jango shot first; he escalated things and it backfired on him). It took a few days (and included bringing Jango and Boba down to one of the creche rooms holding the clones the same physical age as Boba, putting Boba in clone uniform and asking Jango to try and pick him from the crowd. Jango promptly had a panic attack when he was face to face with 200ish Boba’s and unable to look away from the reality of what he was doing).

SIDE NOTE: Has anyone else noticed the parallel between Jango Fett and Maul. Both were obsessed with getting revenge for situations where they suffered from being in the instigator and losing. Essentially they fucked around, found out, and decided to get revenge, and it cost them everything they had left.

Once Cody and Obi Wan actually got through to Jango, they told him everything. Being from the future, what Project Knightfall actually did, Cody talking about what it was like under the control of the chips, of never realizing why he betrayed his Jedi general or was willing to hunt down Force users, of waking up after the chip was removed and realizing exactly what he had done, Of the brothers he had lost to suicide, due to the horror of what had happened. They talked about the Empire and what it did to Mandalore.

The three of them decided what to do next.

Jango, looking at himself realistically for the first time in a decade, realizes quickly that he should not take the mantle of Mand’alor again. He was too young the first time, but had been growing into the role. Had Galidraan not happened, he likely would have been a good leader, but it did and the years of slavery (with its exposure to Spice) plus the trauma from Galidraan made their mark. Jango would, however, throw his support behind Cody as Mand’alor (Cody made sure it was clear that Jango would also be throwing in his support behind Obi Wan as Cody’s Jedi husband, alternately Cody and Obi Wan would share the Mand’alor title. Jango was fine with that).

It is also decided, after much debate, that they would also inform the Kaminoans of the fate of their species in the original timeline (destroyed as soon as they could be) and get their cooperation. There had been consideration for simply taking Kamino, or Tipoca city, but it was decided that it was simply more work than it was worth. It took two months (during which Obi Wan and Cody functioned as additional trainers for the Cadets) before they were ready to present the truth to Lama Su. Thankfully they had enough working knowledge of things they should not, and were able to get enough proof of what they had to say, that they were able to convince Lama Su that aligning with the Sith would doom the Kaminoans; an if there was one thing the Kaminoan valued more than profit, it was their own survival.

The Clone project, overall, was at a point where communication between the project and the Sith was infrequent at best (so that attention was not drawn to a seemingly empty patch of space too early), so Tyranus did not have cause to notice that Kamino started ghosting him (It should be noted that they also kept cashing his checks, ostensibly so that he would not notice anything wrong).

With the Kaminoans on their side now, Cody, Obi Wan, and Jango got to work. There were a few trainers that did need to be killed outright (Priest and Reau, whom Cody got to kill during one of the cage fights they were arranging-which forever endeared him to the Clone cadets, especially the batch he would have belong to in another life, who were around 10 years old developmentally, who found themselves drawn to Cody, the trainer that looked so much like Jango Fett that he could have been a clone himself), and a few that asked to be paid so they could leave (and were paid extras so that Obi Wan could remove the details of what as going on from their mind, for safety reasons), but most were willing to follow Cody and Obi Wan as soon as it was clear that Jango has sworn himself to them (non sexually and non romantically, Jango is very AroAce, and very Sex/Romance repulsed).

The next step is starting to remove the already embedded chips, which went quickly with the help of the Kaminoans, and partially demilitarizing the education of the cadets. While they would be Mandalorians (as a warrior culture there is a certain level of military in their education) the cadets training would no longer be solely focused on being soldiers and nothing else. The Kaminoans also keep cloning (Technically the original order was for 1 million clones for the Jedi, they may be taking Tyranus’s money and ghosting him, but they would fulfill their contract-It was decided by the Kaminoan Council that Obi Wan qualified as ‘Jedi’ for the purposes of the contract, so giving him the clones is really fulfilling their written contract)

Cody and Obi Wan, with the council from the remaining trainers and Jango, decided that they would spend the years between their arrival and one year before the Clone Wars was due to start on Kamino, still largely out of contact with the wider galaxy. In that time they develop their own culture (their own version of ‘how to be mandalorian’ built in part from the remaining True Mandalorians, the clone culture Cody brought from the previous timeline mixing with the ever evolving clone culture of the current timeline-which quickly became different from how Cody remembered it, Part of the Jedi traditions that Obi Wan brought with him from the previous timeline-some of which he may or may not remember correctly due to trauma and the length of time he spent repressing those memories). They also worked over talking points on how to unite their faction with the New Mandalorians, including going over what traditions/parts of their culture they would be willing to relinquish as a compromise and what parts they absolutely will not. On Jango’s occasional trips out into the wider galaxy, to take jobs, he makes a point to get as close to Keldabe as he can to get a feel for the New Mandalorian as a faction (Obi Wan has inside knowledge, but it may be early or outdated is all kinda colored with ‘Satine died in my arms and it was my fault’). There was also a concerted effort to discreetly acquire enough ships for everyone.

So we are one year before the Clone Wars were due to erupt. Palpatine is on Coruscant waiting for the perfect opportunity to enact his plan, believing that he had a handy clone army at the ready for the war he has been fanning. Tyranus, who has still not realized he has not spoken to Kamino in about 4 years, is quietly building his forces with the droid armies about 4 months from being completed.

The Newer True Mandalorians (The name suggestion was from Rex’s-He still picked the same name and was adopted by Codywan along with Fox and Ponds, batch; the name is being workshopped) leave Kamino for Concord Dawn. They take with them a treaty between them and the Kaminoans that includes mutual protection, a live and let live clause, a few NDA’s about the Kamnoan’s gene manipulation process, and a decent trade agreement where the Kaminoans provide genetic research and the clones provide free advertising for the success of the Kaminoans cloning process.

Basically out of nowhere, as far as the galaxy is concerned, the True Mandalorians reemerge after being all but wiped out almost 20 years prior, and in far greater numbers than they had before. Numbers that sharply spike, as outcasts from the New Mandalorians and Death Watch, plus other remnants of the True Mandalorians flock to their banner. These are great enough numbers that when they reach out to discuss a treaty, and a possible merger for factions, with the New Mandalorians, the New Mandalorians actually take it seriously.

This faction, the entire galaxy is surprised to learn, is being led by someone who looks an awful lot like Jango Fett, but is clearly not since Jango Fett is standing next to him (by this point Cody and Jango call ach brother, further confusing the issue) and a red haired man going by the name of Obi Wan Kenobi, who clearly is, or was, a Jedi.

Tyranus and Sidious, realizing that Jango Fett showing up anywhere with a massive amount of being might be contrary to their plans, try to contact Kamino. Kamino doesn’t answer and their ‘we’re busy, don’t call us we’ll call you’ message included a virus that made it so they cannot find or contact Kamino again.

The heads of the New Mandalorian Government arrange to meet with the heads of the Newer True Mandalorians, including Cody and Obi Wan. Satine recognizes Obi Wan. It is at this point that they find out this timeline’s Obi Wan has been dead for almost a decade. They had known that this timeline’s Cody was never born, but had never thought to check on Obi Wan.

The negotiations between the New Mandalorans and the Newer True Mandalorians lasts months, but eventually is hammered out between them, along with a new government structure. Cody and Obi Wan would jointly preside over a council made up equally of New Mandalorians and Newer True Mandalorian (and, should Death Watch want to actually come in from the cold, Death Watch representative, but the faction would have to swear to the agreed upon laws and to follow the joint Mand’alor’s- Satine insisted). While Obi Wan and Cody would have the final say in most cases, if at least 90% of the council agreed they were wrong there was a veto power that could be used. Membership on the council is decided by the faction in question, and if a new faction splits off and gets to a certain size (Generally enough people to populate a medium sized planet) that faction will also be able to put representatives on the council.

Meanwhile in the Republic the reappearance of the True Mandalorians (it doesn’t matter that they have a new name as far the Republic is concerned) has derailed 90% of Palpatine's plans (he does not have time to grow another army, even if he could get in contact with Kamino again and he cannot start the war without an army). The news that the Red Headed leader of the reemerged faction appeared to be Presumed Dead Obi Wan Kenobi, famed in song and story and all but sainted in Anakin Skywalker's head, derailed 90% of the rest.

Padawan Anakin Skywalker, upon hearing that Obi Wan Kenobi might be alive, vanished from Coruscant. Just took off for Concord Dawn to potentially rescue his hero, or avenge him if it was someone else pretending to be him. Or something like that, Anakin was not thinking at all beyond that he needed to see Obi Wan, the man he knew for maybe a week when he was nine. He also left prematurely, had he waited six more hours he and his master Qui Gon Jinn would have been assigned to investigate the identity of the presumed Obi Wan.

Qui Gon did not know where Anakin was headed until he reached Concord Dawn (Anakin left a note that he was going radio silent to work on some course work he was behind in, so Qui Gon left him off the mission-This Qui Gon is just a little oblivious) and was promptly led to a holding cell by some of the Mandos (I kind of want it to be Waxer and Boil, or one of the Alpha’s) who gestured at Anakin inside, glowering like a bristly wet cat, going ‘is this yours?’

I Imagine this ‘reunion’ is weird and awkward from every angle. Like this Obi Wan remembers holding Qui Gon as he died, raising Anakin, Anakin’s Fall, everything of the original timeline. But this Qui Gon held his Padawan as he died (which hold the residual guilt of surviving, plus the guilt of Obi Wan dying to save his life), has added the normal rosy shine to his memories of his padawan (gloss over the bad times to focus on the good times). This Anakin has few actual memories of Obi Wan, but a massive case of hero worship. possibly to the point of Obi Wan being akin to a deity to Anakin, so massively unhealthy(Which Qui Gon also realizes for the first time) but in a way that is difficult to break. Palaptine inadvertently created the Cult of Obi Wan, with one cult member and brainwashed him so well that he fucked up his own plans. Now that there is a living Obi Wan, it is everyone's problem. Cody is prickly with both of them, because he remembers the things Obi Wan, his husband, told him about his Padawanship AND remembers both Reckless General Skywalker and Darth Vader.

I am not sure how much they actually tell the Jedi, but they definitely tell them that Obi Wan and Coy are from a different timeline, and no they can’t go back. Just so that they do not start thinking that Padawan Obi Wan somehow faked his death (they are just a little concerned how Anakin would react).

Eventually Cody gets to kill Palpatine, as a treat.

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varpusvaras · 1 year

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We can talk about if Jango was a good or a bad parent to Boba, but for me, there’s one thing that tells me that Jango really, really wanted to be a dad.

And it’s the fact that he had the option to have Boba be unaltered and not have accelerated aging. Yeah yeah you can say that Jango wanted Boba to be unaltered because he wanted an exact clone of himself so he could live through another being blah blah listen. Listen. Look me in the eyes and listen. Babies are tough. Babies scream and cry. We lived in a massive house where me and my older brother had a whole floor of it to ourselves with a full bathroom and all, and our baby sister still kept everyone up during the first year of her life because she had stomach problems and screamed about it. Jango decided to go through that. He was given an option not to and he chose to have a baby. Only a person who really wants to be a parent does that when he doesn’t have to.

The Kaminoans were like: you know that we can age him up just a little bit, so you can get past the first years of development faster?

Jango, already knitting little socks and getting his photo albums ready: no fuck off

#Jango being aroace and really wanting kids is going through his options like #do I just close my eyes and bear it? can I find a kid for free from somewhere? I was found free #and then listening to the kaminoans explaining the process to him and ceasing to listen anything after babies were mentioned #insert the wonder woman gif of diana running and going A BABY :D #that's jango seeing boba for the first time #dooku in the background being like wtf #jango fett #boba fett #I say this as a person who really wants to be a parent ajakskj

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is-that-sand-in-my-waffles · 5 months

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#YES YES I'M EXCLUDING THE CLONES look their Mandalorian status is complicated in canon #additionally they can't be here because they would fill all the slots because. I mean. have you seen Rex. Or Wolffe. Or Cody or Howzer.#polls #jango fett #boba fett #din djarin #bo katan kryze #satine kryze #sabine wren #the armorer #paz vizsla #pre vizsla #fenn rau #ursa wren #star wars #tcw #swr #the mandalorian #Honorable mention: Obi-wan in red Mando armor

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cienie-isengardu · 1 year

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Jango Fett' childhood on Concord Dawn

One of the things that I think bothers me the most about Jango Fett: Open Seasons comics series is how a 8 (or 10) years old Jango was told by his dad to repair a harvester

and then… left alone for who knows how long in the middle of a crop field?

I was born in the city so obviously I don’t know how life on a farm goes and all so forgive me my ignorance but:

A) Jango was introduced with a weapon in his hand, while he walked through his own family’s property

and was taught by father how to use a blaster at the age of 8 - 10.

At this point in the story, I think it is safe to assume Jango’s dad knew Mandalorians were in his field, as he brought food to Jaster and his men. So I assume he was contacted by comlink or he already talked in person with Jaster and he probably had some idea of what was going on - unless Jaster didn’t warn him about Death Watch on his trail, but I think this is pretty unlikely, as the Mandalorians stayed hidden in the field, instead of coming to Fett’s house.

So there is a reason to think that leaving a kid alone in the middle of the field was not the smartest idea.

B) Jango has never been any technology genius or even that good with it in sources? His jetpack was repaired by a droid whose main job was to take care of little Boba on Kamino. I’m pretty sure Jango as a Mandalorian Merc was capable of maintaining his armor, weapons and ship but if the harvester was so important to put back into use - and I assume this is the case, as Fett’s parents were usually described as simple farmers and the first part of comics clearly represents the season of summer (childhood) and this was very likely grain harvest time - then I would not pick a kid to do the job, unless the kid was Anakin Skywalker who could fix all kind of machinery, as it was his specific gift. Jango though? I’m not so sure about his 8-10 year old self’ skills.

Of course, the harvester’s problem could be a simple matter but then why not send Arla, Jango’s older sister (14 years old) to either do the job, or help Jango to speed up the repairs? Not saying Arla did not have her own share of duties and all (unless the kids were treated unfair, as Arla did not hold/use a gun against the invaders

but that could be just matter of her being too terrified or there could be not enough guns which is why only the mother was armed), but considering how the comics implies that Jango’s dad, mother and Arla were at home when he was working during sunny (if not hot) day, in the middle of a field, no shadow, repairing a vehicle bothers me a lot.

And sure, on Concord Dawn living on farm could be just that tough even for kids, but looking at AotC novel (that admittedly does not mention Jango’s time with Mandalorians at all)

Other than that, though, this was just a job, well paying and easy enough. Financially, he couldn't have asked for more, but more important, only the Kaminoans could have given him Boba - not just a son, but an exact replica. Boba would give Jango the pleasure of seeing all that he might have become had he grown up with a loving and caring father, a mentor who cared enough to criticize, to force him to perfection.

This, then, was Jango Fett's greatest reward, right here, sitting with his son, his young replica, sharing quiet moments. Quiet moments within the tumult that had been Jango Fett's entire life, surviving the trials of the Outer Rim alone practically from the day he learned to walk. Each trial had made him stronger, had made him more perfect, had honed the skills that he would now pass along to Boba.

and old source material like outdated starwars.com’s databank entry:

Fett all but disappeared from bounty hunting circles as he took time to raise his son. He sought to experience what his life might have been like had he been raised by a caring guardian.

I can’t help but wonder about Jango’s childhood before the Mandalorians showed up.

So far my research showed, only Fact Files v.3 #14 mentioned he had "as idyllic a life as could be while making a living off the land, in close family unit with his mother, father and sister, Arla"

which gives some hope Jango's childhood although tough, was a relative happy one.

[Just to be clear here: I don’t think Jango’s biological family was by any means pathological, I just think Concord Dawn is a pathological place as this planet's record is not the best when it comes to people's backstories.]

#star wars #cienie's research #jango fett #jango fett's family #concord dawn #this is seriously one of the most bothering things from JF:OS #mandalorian brutality? got it #but leaving a kid in the middle of field alone?#i can't help but think about slavic folklore and Południce #the demons huntingthose who were in the field at noon during summer #i started collecting data for jango & walon meta #so of course i sidetracked XDDD #also the early sources for jango puts jaster & mandalorians too in bad light once collected together #though aotc novel seems to have its own version of jango's backstory with no mention of mandalorians or detailed events from jf:os

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josephsaturn · 9 days

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Library visit (AU DRABBLE)

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Shmi thinks about things while she gets ready to go to the library

(This is a drabble for an AU I have where Shmi was taken by Jango to be a nanny for Boba)

WORDS: 595

CW: none as far as I know

Note: Shmi’s thoughts on the Jedi aren’t my thoughts on the Jedi, nor how the Jedi would be portrayed if I made a full-on fic for this AU

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Even though it’s been 3 years since Mr. Fett brought her from Tatooine to Kamino, Shmi was still shocked by how different the two planets were.

Tatooine was hot, dry, and sandy, and Shmi didn’t miss it one bit, but Kamino was cold. The cold was omnipresent, from the moment she woke up in her apartment to the moment she went to bed. On top of that, no matter how many layers she put on, the cold would always worm its way through to her skin. She didn’t think she could hate anything more than the anger of Tattooine’s suns boiling her alive, but Shmi thinks she’d prefer it over the constant, unyielding cold.

This cold isn’t just in the environment, either; evidently, the cold seeped into Kamino’s dominant species.

Shmi dreads to talk to any of them, with their callousness toward the sentient life they’ve made of Mr. Fett’s DNA, or their callousness in general.

That’s another thing, too: the clones.

Seeing as Shmi isn’t a trainer, she’s not allowed back there to be among or train them, but…there are windows nearby. When she’s feeling stir-crazy, Mr. Fett is planetside (which is usually only for a week or two between months-long bounties) and Mr. Gilamar is busy (which he usually is), Shmi will walk to a window and just…watch them train.

Children, the lot of them.

Children as young as 3 (physically, Mr. Gilamar had been very insightful on how they differed from her sometimes-charge when she asked), hooked up to machines for hours on end, staring at screens that beamed military training into their minds.

Children as young-looking as 6, learning how to take apart blasters and wield knives to take down men two times their size.

For a planet with a seemingly-infinite amount of water, this place is no more free than Tattooine.

And just like Tattooine, the Jedi won’t come to liberate these boys.

No, they’re an army for the Jedi: bought and paid for, even. The Jedi will come here in a few years to pick them up, and make them their loyal lapdogs, with no chance for these boys to live their own lives.

She should’ve spat in Master Jinn’s face when he asked to take her son.

“Miss Shmi?” A voice asks at the same time she feels a slight tugging on her dress.

Turning around, she sees her charge, the reason Mr. Fett brought her to this forsaken place.

Boba Fett, Mr. Fett’s 3 year-old son.

The only clone who’ll get to have a childhood. To grow up, to live.

“Can we-can we go to the li-b’rary now?” He asks, looking up at her with wide eyes.

Shmi lets out a soft puff and gives a small smile.

“Go put on your shoes, Boba.”

It’s not this boy’s fault for this, she knows that. He’s just as innocent as the other clones.

No, the one she truly despises is Mr. Fett. He sold his DNA to make an army, he treats everyone with indifference at best and hostility at worst.

There’s no positive emotion in her body for that man, not a lick of it.

Shmi smiles as Boba walks over, shoes on his feet. “Ready!” He shouts, giving her a thumbs up, and Shmi holds her hand out, not moving until the boy’s small fingers curl around her own fingers.

They both walked over to the front door of the apartment.

“So, which book do you plan on getting today?” She asks as the door slides open.

She might not be able to do anything for the other boys, but she’ll help boba in any way she can.

In spite of Mr. Fett.

#nanny shmi au #shmi skywalker #young boba fett #boba fett #mentioned:#clone troopers #jango fett #mij gilamar #kaminoans #sw fanfic #short ficlet #star wars fanfiction

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kill-the-feels · 1 year

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cuyan

a/n: hey everyone! i didn’t mean to leave y’all on such a cliffhanger last time for so long, but real life got in the way. once more, minimal Jango content, but the next chapter will fix that, promise! enjoy! :) (previous part) (masterlist)

word count: ~3.9k

warnings: implied/referenced slavery (Gardulla returns), implied/referenced child abuse, injury mention, blood/stabbing mention

It has been nearly ten years since the last time you stepped foot on Tatooine, and nearly twelve years since you found yourself being bartered away from Gardulla’s service.

For a long time, after escaping Gardulla, even on Kamino, you lived life like you were waiting on the other shoe to fall.

You didn’t let yourself be all the way happy, because you were so afraid that something would come and take that happiness. Anytime you felt joy, you carefully smothered it, tamping it down in your chest, like you were keeping the universe from finding out and snatching it away.

And then, just when you weren’t looking, just when you let your guard down, felt such unbridled joy, the universe did snatch it away.

But.

You are not going to go quietly.

The planet has not changed much — the same harsh winds, relentless suns, and ever-shifting sands. But what was once a palace that housed Gardulla and her ill-gotten gains has fallen into a bit of disrepair.

As you stare up at the spires, once as tall and as sharp as her tongue, you see the way they’ve started to crumble in on themselves.

Once a place for lookouts, they’re now defunct and in need of serious repair.

The front door is much the same. Time and whipping sands have stripped the paint; the lavish purple now a dull grey lavender, bleached by the harsh environment.

The hinges squeak as you push open the door, and no one is there to stop you.

It seems in the dawning of a new era, Gardulla has quietly and slowly — but surely — been left behind.

Perhaps you won’t have to part with as many credits and weapons as you thought.

The inside of the palace is dark, the lamps long since spent of their fuel, and a layer of soot covers everything. The helmet allows you to see more than you normally would, filtering the shadows and increasing the contrast automatically. No wonder Jango can see so well in Kamino’s storms.

Grit crunches under your boot as you take the familiar path towards Gardulla’s lair, at the very center with her precious throne.

There’s faint music playing, but it’s scratchy — a recording and a far cry from the live bands she once entertained.

A mass of people is huddled in the room, much more subdued than you’re used to, a smokey haze curling around everyone.

Few people give you an interested glance — most look bored out of their minds. You recognize none of them; the old girls and the people who used to hang out here are gone or dead, a product of the life they were forced into.

And there, in the very center, is the Hutt herself. She’s snapping something churlish at a young man who holds a tray, and he scurries off, tripping over her tail as he goes.

You follow his path, stopping when you see the little girl at the end of Gardulla’s tail.

She’s young, far younger than you ever were, with long, stringy hair, and brown eyes that seem to look right through you, as she becomes the first person in the room to take real notice of you.

“Bring me a fucking drink,” Gardulla howls in Huttese, skin quivering in rage.

It’s a strange power dynamic now. Here you are, back in the same room, looking at a little girl in the same spot you were. Only now, you’re the one in the armor; you’re the one with the hidden past and the ulterior motives.

You step out of the shadows without a word, waiting on Gardulla to notice you. Her tail tightens around the little girl’s ankle, and you watch the girl wince before she catches herself, shoulders straightening.

White hot anger courses through your body, and ultimately, it’s what gives you the strength to speak.

“Gardulla.” Her name is a harsh sound in the midst of the droning music, and you watch as she turns to you, visibly trying to place your voice through the crackling modulation of the helmet’s filter.

You don’t give her a choice.

“I need a bacta tank. No questions. Fifty thousand credits.” The Huttese is rusty on your tongue, but as you speak, it comes back to you. She stares at you, silent for once in her life, as she processes your words.

“Who said that?” she asks, and you step further forward, until you’re in the center of the room, in the center of the circle.

“I did.” She stares down at you from her throne, and you’re struck by the irony. She used to be so big to you, and in your mind, she’s always been this hulking shadow, never quite vanquished.

But now, up close, with all these years removed, you can see her for what she is: just a scared and conning gangster, trying desperately not to lose what little power she has left.

“You’re not Fett,” she says, narrowing her eyes at you. You study her for a long moment in return, refusing to cower away.

“Doesn’t matter who I am. I need a bacta tank. You can get it. And you clearly need the credits.” She waves a hand, obviously stalling.

“Still, I should think you would be willing to… indulge me. You come into my house, start making these demands? I would think you’d want to get on my good side.” The young man returns with the drink, and she snatches it up, taking a long draw before tossing it away.

It glances off the little girl’s shoulder, and she barely flinches. Your fists curl in an effort to refrain from removing one of Jango’s blasters and ending the Hutt where she sits.

“I should think for fifty thousand credits you’d be willing to listen to my demands,” you say. Her head tilts.

“And yet, there’s something familiar about you. And if there’s one thing I like almost as much as credits, it’s having my curiosity satisfied.” You stare at her, weighing your options.

Finally, you reach up and snag off the helmet. It takes your eyes a moment to adjust in the dark, hazy room, and you blink back the sting of smoke.

You see when it registers just who you are. Her mouth opens and closes as she mouths your name, and you tilt your head impatiently, ready to get on with it.

“I thought you died,” she finally says. You reach into the bag and pull out a handful of credits.

“Fifty thousand for a bacta tank and no questions. And another fifty thousand for the girl.” Gardulla stiffens and the little girl’s head jerks up.

“She’s not for sale. I’m training her to be a dancer.” You let out a humorless laugh.

“For what, Hutt? There’s no one around even remotely interested in that. Your place is shit. Take the credits and fix it up. Get someone better down the line.” Her lip curls, but you can see it in her eyes. She’s not going to turn you down. She values the money too much, just like you knew she would, greedy bastard that she is.

“Fifty thousand for the tank, seventy-five for the girl,” she counters. You know she’s expecting you to protest. What she doesn’t know is that you were prepared to part with much more, before you saw the state of things.

“Deal. Where’s the tank?” She’s flustered. Her tail loosens and the girl shoves it off, rushing to your side. She’s a little younger than Boba, and despite the heat, she shivers beside you.

“Well, I-I didn’t realize you’d take the deal. What I meant to say is that it’s seventy-five for both.” She tries to backtrack, and your hand drifts down to one of the blasters as you pull your helmet back on.

“Don’t piss me off,” you warn. “I can take these credits elsewhere and leave you with nothing.” She grits her teeth. Gardulla doesn’t like to lose.

You cock your head, waiting.

She hollers for two of her guards.

“There’s a spare tank in the north room. Bring it to me.” You cross your arms as you wait, and finally, the two emerge, the tank on a floating platform between them. Carefully, you count out the credits, still mildly surprised she agreed to this in the first place, without you having to part with any weapons. The girl says nothing as she watches you.

Finally done, you push the tank forward and out of the room, nodding at the little girl who follows closely behind you. Remembering how scared you were in her position, you wait until you round the corner, out of Gardulla’s sight, then kneel beside her, careful not to touch her.

“I’m not going to hurt you. I’ve been where you were. Once I get you out of here, you’re free to go wherever you want, okay? What’s your name?” She shakes her head, and you nod.

“That’s okay. I’m not big on trusting people either.” You glance down at her feet. Like your past self, she has no shoes. You have no cape, but you do have the bag the credits were in, so you tear it up.

“The sand outside is hot. It burns. If you put this on your feet, it’ll help.” You show her how to tie it off, fighting the urge to go kill Gardulla when you see the raw skin around her ankle, where Gardulla’s tail must have constricted, day after day.

“When we get out of here, I’ll find you something better,” you whisper. She hesitates, then looks up a you with a tiny nod. Something swells in your chest, and you consider it a small victory.

As you step outside, the late afternoon suns hit you in the face. Even with the helmet, you’re squinting, and the girl cowers back. Without thinking, you reach up and tug off the helmet.

“Here. This will help filter the sun so it’s not so bright.” She pulls it down over her head, and it tilts slightly to the side, just a little too big for her.

A cruel laugh echoes over the sand.

“As a live and breathe. A former Gardulla Girl.” You turn. There, slipping out of the crest of a dune, is a pink Twi’lek. You squint in the sun.

“Maswoni?” Years and years ago, the Twi’lek was one of the favorites. Now, it’s clear that the years have not been kind. She’s scarred and missing some of her right lekku. The bags under her eyes are visible, even from a distance, and the provocative dress she wore as a dancer has been replaced by a baggy flightsuit and utility belt. She’s picking at her sharp nails with a blade.

“In the flesh,” she replies. Her gaze is hostile as it lands on you, jumping between you and the girl.

“Still as noble as ever,” she adds. In a flash, Maswoni flings the blade at you, and you duck, shoving the girl down behind the tank.

“Stay here,” you tell her, trying to draw Maswoni’s attention elsewhere. If she messes up the tank, you’re back to square one.

You’re also aware you’re running out of time. The longer it takes you to deal with Maswoni, the more time you waste that you could spend helping Jango. If you don’t die first, that is.

She charges at you with a shriek, and you duck as she fires the blaster at your head. You’re a terrible shot with the blaster, so you know you’re going to have to get in close.

Jango’s lesson comes rushing back to you.

Don’t fight to win, fight to get away.

“Listen to me,” you whisper to the girl. “I’m going to distract her. I want you to take and push this towards the city — it’s over the dunes. There’s a ship with blue and yellow details, twin blaster cannons, real funny looking. I need you to take it there. Please.” She looks between you and the still-charging Maswoni, visibly torn. Finally, mercifully, she nods, then grabs your arm. You watch as she takes off the helmet, pushing it into your chest.

“Are you sure?” you ask her, and she nods again. You waste no time in slipping it back on.

You step out from behind the tank, unholstering your blaster as you do.

The armor, as you have seen, can take a few hits. But the closer she gets, the deadlier they’ll be. You have to knock the blaster out of her hand, you decide. Get rid of it, engage her in a hand-to-hand fight. That’ll keep her busy long enough for the girl to get away, then you can run.

To throw her off guard, you fire a few shots near her, but it’s painfully clear you don’t know how to shoot.

She pings one off your right shoulder, and you stumble backwards, tripping in the sand. It’s been years since you’ve had to move around the shifting sands, and the armor adds weight that you’re not used to. As you stumble, you catch your hand in the spare utility belt hiding the old blaster shot. It tugs to the side, exposing it.

Out of the corner of your eye, you see the little girl and the tank, slinking away. Good. Boba will know what to do if she makes it to him. But that’s a big if.

You fall flat on your back as another shot hits your other shoulder, the wind knocked out of you. Everything in you screams at you to get up, but a quiet voice keeps you still.

Anything can be a weapon. She needs to be closer.

You play dead, blaster shot in the middle of your chest on prominent display. To her eyes, it looks like she got you center mass. A kill shot.

It’s a calculated move, because the little girl is still not far enough away, but Maswoni is entirely focused on you. You hear the crunch of her footsteps in the sand, feel the stray grains she’s kicked up dust over the helmet. Your eyes remain fixed on her figure, the benefit of a helmet. She can’t tell you’re watching her, waiting.

Ten feet. Seven. Five. Two.

She leans over you, nudging you with her toe, and still, you don’t move.

It’s not until she bends down, tries to snatch the helmet off you, that you spring into action.

With a cry, you kick at her hands, knocking the blaster away. She cries out too, falling backwards and taking your helmet with her, even as she reaches for her other blaster. You don’t give her a chance, instead tackling her backwards and pinning her in the sand. Frantically, you toss the blaster as far away as you can get it.

The two of you wrestle there, you just trying to subdue her, Maswoni trying to kill you.

She lands a solid punch on the side of your head, leaving you dazed as she rolls away. Maswoni scrambles for the blade she threw at you to start this whole fight. You reach for your own blade, still stuck on your back in the sand, blinking away the grey at the edge of your vision.

With a howl, she leaps at you, knife pointed at your neck. Your hands fumble as you try to get your own knife up between you two, to block the blade. She lands on your chest, and you tense, prepared to feel the sting on your neck, feel the hot blood seep out.

Instead, she goes limp, a gasping cough escaping from her lips.

Your knife is buried in her chest, sticky blood starting to seep over your hands.

Her hand trembles and she tries to force it to work, to stab you, but she’s too weak. Carefully, you role her off you, and stand on shaky legs, swallowing the bile that rises in the back of your throat.

“Why did it have to be fucking you?” Maswoni says in between gasps.

You kneel beside her, not relishing the ending she’s been dealt. She’s right. Your roles could oh, so easily, have been reversed.

“I don’t know,” you answer honestly. She scowls, looking away at the suns, which have started to slip below the horizon, casting long shadows over the two of you.

“We used to talk, y’know. About how long you’d make it. Every single one of them thought he’d kill you. But I knew you. You were too fucking stubborn to go down so easily, even if you acted scared all the time.” Her voice is choked and bitter, the words spat at you.

You gently pry the knife out of her hands, biting your lip as you look down at her.

“Maswoni,” you say, trying to figure out how to apologize. For stabbing her, for what she’s been through, all of it.

“Don’t,” she says. “Let me have my dignity. You beat the system. You won. Now get out of here. Before it pulls you back in.” Her eyes close and a sad, bitter smile graces her lips. Her next words are delivered softly, as if she’s resigned herself to what comes next.

��It never would have been me, anyways. Every time he’d come in there, he was always looking at you.” Carefully, you take her hand, hands smeared with blood and sand, wanting her to have some comfort, a gentle touch, something, before she dies. She snorts softly, pressing a hand to her wound, and with one long exhale, she’s gone.

You hang your head, fighting a sudden rush of tears. It isn’t fair. Maswoni, who used to be vapid and mean, but also entirely ready to protect the other girls at Gardulla’s, the one you could always count on to fight back.

Gone. In a blink.

The winds pick up, shifting the dunes, starting to cover her feet. You find your blade, and hers, and tuck them both into your belt. A quick look around reveals the helmet nearly covered, and you tug it back on, leaving bloody fingerprints on it, watching through the twilight as the sands reclaim Maswoni. Another breath, and she’s gone, the sands perfectly undisturbed, no evidence of your fight except the extra blade.

Your force your feet to move on, and when you crest the dune, you don’t look back. ~~~ You find the girl, stumbling through the sands, resolutely pushing the bacta tank, and you help her get it the rest of the way, slapping the side of the ship to let Boba know you’re back.

The ramp lowers, and you shove the tank up, catching the girl’s hand when she hesitates.

“You can come in,” you tell her. “I told you I’d get you out of here, and then you’re free to go wherever.” She settles in the corner as you position the tank along the wall and toss the helmet in a nearby seat.

“Boba!” you shout, and he rushes down the ladder. You’ve never hooked up one of these, don’t know what to do, and neither does Boba, but surely between the two of you, you can figure something out.

Boba notices the little girl as he messes with the control panel.

“Who’s she?” He glances between you and the girl, and you catch the way his eyes linger on the dried blood covering the armor. You tug a spare tube, trying to figure out what it connects to.

“Gardulla was keeping her. I didn’t like that.” You’re vague, having never really told Boba about your past, and now is not the time to elaborate.

“Buir, how did you even find this?” Boba asks, a strange inflection — awe maybe? — in his tone, and you shake your head. Not the time, you repeat.

The girl creeps out of the corner and touches your hand, pointing to one last spare tube. You frown.

“I see it, but where does it go?” She hesitates, glancing between you two for permission.

“Go ahead,” Boba says. “I don’t know what the hell I’m doing.” Her eyes go wide, but she scurries under the tank, pulling the tube and connecting it to some unseen valve.

The lights flicker on, and the tank starts to fill.

“Yes!” You and Boba cheer.

“Okay,” you tell Boba. “I’m going to get Jango in the tank. Can you get us in atmo?” He nods and the girl slinks back to her corner. Boba pauses right before he climbs up the ladder, instead heading for the bunks in the ship.

He returns, carrying Ai-Ai. Gently, he places the toy in front of the girl.

“For you,” he explains. “He makes me feel better.” The girl watches him with big eyes, and you blink a few times to clear the tears, frozen as he climbs the ladder, so mature and so calm in that moment. You’re not sure when he grew up. Just that one moment he was a baby, and now he’s just like his father.

Right.

Jango.

With the little girl watching you, you carefully strip the remains of Jango’s flightsuit.

You’re in the process of adjusting the bacta levels — not wanting to splash it everywhere when Jango is put in — when the little girl sits up suddenly.

Her eyes stay focused on Jango as her grip tightens on Ai-Ai and you pause.

“What’s up?” you ask. She shakes her head, unwilling to look away, and you step closer.

He isn’t breathing.

The realization sticks your feet to the floor, wasting precious seconds and your body goes hot then cold in the matter of a second.

“Shit,” you hiss, falling on your knees beside him. You don’t know what to do.

Patrons used to die at Gardulla’s all the time, in sudden and increasingly creative ways. You’ve never seen them brought back to life, though.

Think.

You close your eyes, wracking through your brain for anything. There was a safety training video you half-watched once, listening as Boba watched on the holopad while you worked on something else.

You have to press his chest, hard. And breathe air into his lungs.

The girl curls into a ball, and you bite down on your lip, placing the palm of one hand on the back of the other. In the video, they pressed hard enough to break ribs.

Jango’s ribs already feel pretty busted when you press, but you suppose it’s either busted ribs or death, so hopefully he’ll forgive you.

You’ve no idea how many times you’re supposed to press, so you take a guess, stopping when your arms ache. The breaths. You’re fairly sure it was two breaths, long breaths at that, so you tilt his head back, holding his nose — it feels like a logical conclusion, a way to keep the air in.

You slot your mouth over his like a twisted kiss and blow, once, twice.

Nothing.

You go back to pressing on his chest, the tears coming quickly now.

“Don’t you fucking do this to me,” you plead, pressing hard enough that you feel something give.

“I need you. You told me you were a survivor. That we were survivors. Cuyan. Cyare, what am I supposed to do?” Back to the breaths.

His mouth is cold against yours, a fact that registers uncomfortably at the front of your mind.

“Please,” you whisper, pressing your forehead against his.

Jango coughs, just once, and draws a raspy breath, then another. You sag against him before drawing yourself up. Into the bacta tank. You can’t wait any longer.

It takes some finagling, but you manage to get him in with minimal jostling, tugging a mask over his face to give him air, and pushing a button to seal him in.

Now. You wait.

#jango fett x reader #jango fett x you #reader insert #injury mention #blood mention #abuse mention #i posted the last chapter and then got hit with the worst case of writer’s block in history #And then just a lack of desire to post bc my self-doubt was hella bad #But I’m finally happy with this #Thanks for reading!! <3

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bojangos · 2 years

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re: boots au jango art that I just posted

thank you @bikerlorian for immediately teaching me more about motorcycles than I ever thought I would know lmao. Honest to god giving jango a bike was an extremely last minute addition without any extra thought put into it but it’s good to know the realistic stuff?

I know F all about motorcycles or anything so this is all interesting to me aksldjfkalsd that said I am imagining jango just also has like. a minivan that’s Slave 1. but it doesn’t exactly suit his image LMAO

me not knowing you should wear earplugs (despite how obvious it is in hindsight)

Also speaking of the bag i was talking to someone else about like. leather birikad for baby boba LMAO he’s gotta have backpack room and also Child room!

i absolutely did have to google what a pinlock visor was, and I had no idea there were like. special gloves??? lmao

this one above made me laugh. you gotta know young!jango absolutely made that mistake and paid the price for it

#also i don't know who it was but i could Kiss #whoever came up with the idea that the Slave 1 is actually called The Slave Won #feels. more appropriate to jango's character to me alksdjfklsdaj #bo speaks #that really doesn't have anything to do with this post but i felt i should mention it anyway #bojangos #boots au #jango fett

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ifonlyweknewwhatiwasdoing · 2 years

Text

You're a Prize I'd Cheat to Win (#20 Whumptober 2022)

Prompt: Going into Shock | Fetal Position | Prisoner Trade

Fandom: Star Wars- All Media Types, Star Wars - The Clone Wars (2008)

Pairing: Jango Fett/Obi-Wan Kenobi

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: Alludes to Rape/Abuse

Summary: “You can’t be serious.”

Jango looked up at Kal, who was looking at him disbelieving.

“Of course I’m serious,” Jango said, “Why would I be joking?”

“A trade? For a kid? A kid you don’t even know!” Kal snapped back, “What’s wrong with you?”

“He knows of him,” Myles mentioned, although he seemed mostly uninterested in the conversation, “Apparently he’s the fairest in the land.”

“He’s a prince,” Jango snapped back, “There’s a lotta money in rescuing a prince you know.”

“We haven’t been contracted to rescue a damn prince,” Kal argued, “We’ll be as good as kidnapping him!”

“Last I checked you can’t kidnap someone whose been kidnapped,” Jango drawled, “That’s called rescuing.”

--- Fic Under the Cut ---

“You can’t be serious.”

Jango looked up at Kal, who was looking at him disbelieving.

“Of course I’m serious,” Jango said, “Why would I be joking?”

“A trade? For a kid? A kid you don’t even know!” Kal snapped back, “What’s wrong with you?”

“He knows of him,” Myles mentioned, although he seemed mostly uninterested in the conversation, “Apparently he’s the fairest in the land.”

“He’s a prince,” Jango snapped back, “There’s a lotta money in rescuing a prince you know.”

“We haven’t been contracted to rescue a damn prince,” Kal argued, “We’ll be as good as kidnapping him!”

“Last I checked you can’t kidnap someone whose been kidnapped,” Jango drawled, “That’s called rescuing.”

“Not if you’re planning on extorting them for a ridiculous amount of money it’s not!” Kal snapped and then groaned, “Just wait until Jaster hears about this. I had one job. Keep his damn kid outta trouble and I’m helping to kidnap a prince and extort a whole fucking Republic system!”

“I’m not asking them for money,” Jango told him, offended, “I’m asking for the prince’s hand in marriage. That’s not extorting. That’s a treaty.”

“Wh- what?”

Even Myles seemed a little confused.

“His name is Obi-Wan Kenobi,” Jango said, “He’s the second in line to be the King of Stewjon. A planet that just so happens to be in the middle of leaving the Republic. They’re looking for somewhere to go and we could use a planet as rich as that in the Mandalorian Empire. It would finally make our reach even to the Republic. We’ve got Wild Space; what’s left of the Hutt’s Empire after it was toppled; Mandalore’s original planet and colonies; and some of the Expansion zone. With Stewjon we will finally have capital almost exactly even to them. They bring in billions of credits for the Republic but they’ve been unhappy with their treatment.”

“And what makes you think he’ll want to marry you?” Myles asked, taken aback, “He’s a prince. Second in line to a throne. This isn’t some kind of daytime holodrama where you save the princess and get the girl, Jango.”

“Well,” Jango said, moving so he was facing them, “The word on the street is he’ll do anything to get out of marrying Palpatine. It was a deal made before they started having trouble with the Republic, before their parents were mysteriously murdered. He can’t make another deal in the Republic because the man is a senator from Naboo and no one will touch it. I won’t have that problem.”

“You are…” Kal trailed off, smirking, “a genius. A little, evil genius.”

“Are you serious?” Myles complained, “You’re basically forcing his hand!”

Kal shrugged, “Palps is a name I know. The man is like a million years old and then some. As far as I’m concerned, it’s probably a good deal for him.”

“How?” Myles stopped, putting his head in his hands, “How are we planning on getting him?”

Jango’s smile was concerning.

---

The door unlocked but Obi-Wan didn’t move from where he was curled up in the corner, stomach feeling like it was on fire.

He couldn’t tell if it was from the lack of food or the daily beatings that they’d started to dish out but he was sure it didn’t matter, since it all blended seamlessly with the shooting pain in his hips and cunt.

He was sure that after this he wouldn’t even be able to get Palpatine to accept his hand in marriage. Which, he supposed was what he’d wanted but…

Not like this.

He couldn’t feel his body. It was like the only thing left was a spot of hot white pain that had become him.

The guards boots got closer and Obi-Wan tensed, throwing his hands over his head in a feeble attempt to protect himself.

“Holy kriff.”

Obi-Wan didn’t move, shrinking in on himself as a hand brushed against his wrist.

“Please no,” he pleaded softly, trembling.

He didn’t want to go back.

He didn’t want to be told again where they were taking him or what they were planning on doing with him when he got there.

Breaking him in, that’s what they said they were doing now.

Obi-Wan already felt broken, he didn’t want to know what came after this.

“Can you walk?” the voice was soft but firm.

“Please no,” Obi-Wan begged again, “Please I can’t take anymore.”

“Kriff it’s worse than we thought,” the man muttered and Obi-Wan yelped as he was picked up.

“Shh,” the man shushed him harshly, pressing Obi-Wan’s face to his neck, “You’re gonna get us both in trouble. We need to make this qui…”

The man stopped, cursing again softly, “What did they do to you?”

Obi-Wan could only moan in pain, head swimming from being moved so quickly.

“Kark.”

There were a few taps on a comm, “Kal are you still there?”

“I’m around,” another voice crackled through it, “What do you need? I just got away from point one. Heading towards the rendezvous point.”

“I need you to turn around and head towards the cells,” Jango said seriously, “Create another distraction at the entrance I used. It’s gonna be rough getting out of here. He can’t walk.”

It was about then that Obi-Wan passed out again, unable to keep his eyes open as his entire head swam.

---

Obi-Wan woke up in a medbay.

There was a faint beeping and for a moment, he wondered if they’d done enough damage that they’d finally decided they needed to hospitalize him.

“There you are.”

He tensed, looking to the side and jerking back when he saw a man sitting in the plastoid chair beside him.

“Hey, hey it’s okay,” the man promised, “The pirates that got you are gone. Their ship…blew up. But we got you off.”

“Who…who are you?” Obi-Wan asked softly, hands shaking as he gripped onto the blanket over his lap, “What are you- what do you want with me?”

“Ah well…this is kind of awkward now,” the man said, a hand on his neck, “But I’m Jango Fett. Son of the reigning Mand’alor, House of Mereel, Clan of Mereel. I’m-.”

“You’re Mandalorian,” Obi-Wan said in recognition, swallowing thickly, “We can…My planet will reward you handsomely for my return should you be willing.”

The man frowned, “Should I be willing? We are on our way back to Stewjon right now, your highness. No payment necessary. I must admit that I did have a request that was to be sent to you but we haven’t come all this way to save you and then not return you to your people.”

Obi-Wan relaxed a little into the blanket, “Thank you…your highness?”

The man’s nose scrunched at the title, “Just…Just Jango is fine. Or…perhaps Fett, if you’re really that against calling me by my first name.”

“Jango,” Obi-Wan said, something in his chest loosening, “Thank you.”

The relief was clear in his voice.

“I’m only sorry we couldn’t get there earlier,” Jango said softly, “I’m sorry about what happened to you while you were held captive. I had Eki—she’s the ships medical officer and one of the best—examine you and treat you for any urgent injuries, as well as a few that weren’t as urgent but seemed painful nonetheless.”

“You said…you said you have a request?” Obi-Wa n asked after a few moments of silence, “Perhaps I could be of assistance? I can get it fast-tracked should you tell me what it is you’re looking for.”

Jango’s expression turned embarrassed and his face grew a little pink, “I did but perhaps now isn’t the time to speak on it.”

“I assure you I can compartmentalize,” Obi-Wan assured him.

Jango swallowed audibly.

“Well…your highness,” Jango said clearing his throat, “It was a request for your hand in marriage…”

Hope flared in Obi-Wan’s chest.

He’d been looking for any excuse to get out of Palpatine’s clutches. It was their last tie to the Republic and the man had always made him uncomfortable. He’d welcome anyone who could get him out of the agreement and the Mandalorian Empire would have no qualms upsetting a random senator from the Republic.

…I think perhaps we should table that discussion.”

Obi-Wan’s heart sunk.

“Oh,” Obi-Wan said, wishing his voice wasn’t wavering as much as it was.

Of course after finding out the extent of Obi-Wan’s injuries the man would recind his offer.

He’d been planning on marrying a well respected prince after all, not what Obi-Wan had been turned into after what had happened to him.

What he’d done.

“We are about two days from Stewjon,” Jango said softly, “And then from there, I’m sure your family will be very grateful to see you.”

“No! Wait you can’t!” Obi-Wan blurted out before he could stop himself, “Please. I was taken while my family was…trying to hide me. If I step foot back on Stewjon I’m to be married to Palpatine immediately. Please I…”

He trailed off as panic clawed at his throat.

“Hey, hey it’s okay,” Jango promised, grabbing his hand to rub at the back of it.

It felt nice and soft.

Much gentler than Obi-Wan had grown used to.

“It’s not okay,” Obi-Wan croaked, “Please. Please don’t send me back there.”

The man looked deep into his eyes.

“You either marry now or be married when you arrive, don’t you?” he asked, looking sad.

“Yes,” Obi-Wan admitted, “I just need a little more time.”

The man pressed a few buttons on his comm until a voice came through it.

“What’s up alor?” the voice asked.

“Change the coordinates. We’re going home,” Jango said seriously.

“Wait. What? I thought you promised we weren’t kidnapping him!” the voice on the other side complained.

“We aren’t kidnapping him,” Jango said seriously, “But we need to get home. I need to call my buir. It seems I’m getting married after all.”

Obi-Wan sucked in a sharp breath, looking at the man hopefully.

Jango looked back at him, looking entirely too sure for a man who’d just agreed to marry someone they didn’t know, after knowing what he’d found out.

“You’re getting…motherkarker,” the man on the otherside cursed, “Mand’alor Mereel is going to have my karking head for this. Are you at least going to give him some warning?”

“I’m going to warn him,” Jango promised and then clicked off the comm without preempt.

“Are you sure?” Obi-Wan asked, voice soft and small.

“My buir’s going to love you,” the man murmured back to him, as if that was what Obi-Wan was concerned about, “And it will give you ample time to heal that you wouldn’t otherwise have.”

“The Republic isn’t going to be happy about this. And neither will Palpatine,” Obi-Wan warned, heart seizing at the thought of the man taking his warning and calling things off.

“I’m not worried about some senator the age of a mythosaur,” the man told him with a smirk, “And if it’s about pissing off the Republic? Well Mandalore will give me a metal. No need to worry about that.”

“What about…consumation?” Obi-Wan asked, voice wavering, “I’m..not sure how far we are but I will probably be healed by the time…”

“Nobody is going to be checking,” Jango cut him off, “It’s no one’s business but ours.”

Obi-Wan looked back down at the hand holding his, “But it’s your business.”

“And it’s your body,” Jango reminded him softly, “We’ll work through it, cyare. But for now you need to heal. We’ll marry to halt your current treaty and figure it out from there.”

“That sounds very thought through,” Obi-Wan said softly, tucking a piece of hair behind his ear.

“Why don’t you let me worry about that?” Jango said with a softer smile, “Flying around with no plan is what I’m best at.”

“Thank you,” Obi-Wan choked out, collapsing over on himself, only to be pulled into a strong chest.

“You’re welcome,” Jango said softly, “Don’t worry. I’ve got you now.”

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