#this was very confusing to write when i always name dooku ''yan'' in my other works

[crispyjenkins]

anon prompt fill

alright so! lost the ask this prompt was for because tumblr fecked up, so i’m incredibly sorry if this was yours  😭  veered from the prompt somewhat, but when don’t i. i hope you like the changes!!! (ღ˘◡ ˘ღ)

  Ahsoka doesn’t recognise him, when they first find him; his signature is unmistakable, Ahsoka would know it in a coma and half Force-blind, yet the young face that stares back at her and Cody is one she hasn’t seen even in holos of her grandmaster from before the War.

  But that light in the Force is unmistakably Obi-Wan Kenobi.

  With Master Anakin on probation in the Temple for killing Raako Hardeen and Cad Bane (she refuses to think it was in cold blood, but was... was revenge actually better?), Cody had been the one to accompany her and the 501st to investigate a tiny cloaked complex near Naboo that was rumored to belong to Count Dooku. And maybe Cody knows something she doesn’t about her Grandmaster’s past, because that same pained recognition is on his own face — or maybe he really is Force sensitive the way Anakin always jokes.

  Force, Obi-Wan isn’t even wearing robes, instead dressed in a grey tunic and soft pants that look an exact copy of the red ones worn by the clones on Kamino, and Ahsoka almost drops her gaze, feeling as if she’s caught him in his undergarments.

  “... General?” Cody asks softly at her side, voice raw and betrayed, but this... Not–Obi-Wan just blinks at him.

  “Oh, no, not me,” the thing wearing her Grandmaster’s face says with a Serennian accent, smiling apologetically. “I’m afraid he hasn’t been by in quite some time.”

  Ahsoka exchanges a quick look with Cody before stepping through the doorway properly, Not–Obi-Wan sitting on an assortment of vermilion cushions that are the only splash of colour in the entire room of washed-out greys and stark whites. He simply watches her approach, an actual flimsi book laid across his lap in a language that Ahsoka doesn’t know, but it isn’t until she’s halfway across the room that she starts to see little differences between this boy and her grandmaster. A mole a little too far to the left, brown eyes a little darker than they should be, lower lip a little too full.

  When she doesn’t say anything, he frowns suspiciously. “You are here to see General Grievous, yes?”

  Ahsoka feels her heart freeze in her chest, as Cody makes a strangled sound she’s never heard from him before. 

  It draws Not–Obi-Wan’s gaze back to the commander, and he raises one dark brow. “I was not aware my grandfather kept any of Fett’s clones for himself.”

  Cody sputters, hand twitching towards one of the blasters at his hip, but Ahsoka knows he would never actually shoot Master Obi-Wan — if this even is Master Obi-Wan. Just to be safe, she sidesteps to put herself between the two of them, and holds up one hand placatingly. “Your grandfather?” she asks carefully, but the Force assures her she already knows the answer. “I didn’t realise Count Dooku had any living family still.”

  Surprisingly, he snorts, and jerks a hand around the barren room. “If you call this living.”

  She blinks. “You’re trapped here?”

  “I honestly don’t even know what planet I’m on.” He says it like it means nothing, like it’s a given fact that he has no control over, and Ahsoka has to stop herself from punching the nearest wall.

  Taking a few deep breaths to steady herself, Ahsoka glances back at Cody, whose expression has shifted to forcibly-blank. “What’s your name?” she asks, desperately wishing Master Anakin were here, that Master Obi-Wan were here. The Force does not lie to her, but she had also held her grandmaster as he died, in her arms, and the impossibility of this... man, barely older than she is, having the same signature that she had felt as it snuffed out is...

  “I’m not entirely sure,” that man says, with a tiny, forced smile. “General Grievous calls me Kenobi, and Lady Ventress calls me Little Jedi, but my grandfather calls me Yan.”

  After the briefest of pauses, the air positively suffocating with confusion and horror and disgust, Cody slams his helmet back on and whirls out of the room, and the bulkhead-style door clangs shut behind him.

  Yan doesn’t seem surprised by his outburst, lips pressed together in a thin line as he stares after him for a moment before dragging his eyes back to Ahsoka. “I am quite sure I have never met either of you, yet you both still seem to know me,” he remarks softly, one thumb fidgeting with the edge of the pages of his book.

  “I...” Ahsoka starts, but doesn’t know what she had planned to say. “I, um, how old are you, Yan?”

  If he is surprised by this either, he doesn’t show it. “I believe I am 19 Serenno years old, but as I have not seen a Galactic calendar since I was a child, I cannot be sure.”

  Deeply disturbed, she goes on, “What did you mean by your grandfather ‘keeping’ one of Fett’s clones?”

  “I was under the impression he only picked the template because his master wanted Fett,” Yan offers, deceptively-clever eyes watching her reaction closely, “So it would surprise me if he chose to keep one around.”

  If Yan is telling the truth, if it was Dooku that commissioned the clones, that means... that means Count Dooku and Darth Tyranus are one in the same. Force, Ahsoka doesn’t even know where to start on all the implications of that, and a small part of her is relieved that this is important enough that she will be handing it off to someone much older and wiser than her as soon as possible.

  Not that she would remove herself from the case completely, not when Yan is observing her with eyes Ahsoka had watched go dim. 

  Tipping his head to the side, Yan’s gaze intensifies, hand twitching over his book. “You are not allies of my grandfather.”

  Ahsoka inhales slowly. There’s no way she can lie to him — hopefully Cody is still just outside in case she needs backup. “No.”

  “He didn’t keep a Fett clone around, your companion is part of the GAR.”

  “He is.”

  Yan contemplates that for another minute, and he doesn’t seem angry, but Ahsoka isn’t sure if she would be able to tell even if he did. When the silence stretches into a tension Ahsoka wouldn’t be able to cut even with her ’saber, Yan nods to himself.

  Then his face splits into a smile, a grin she’d seen dozens of times right before her grandmaster would throw himself into an especially-reckless plan that he shouldn’t survive but somehow still did. Yan locks his eyes with hers with a ferocity that holds her firmer than gravity.

  His smile widens. “You wanna help me break the kriff out of here?”

.