Just here for the clones.

The Jedi turned. Those blue eyes were piercing and exhausted. His Jedi had seen too much during that Force inflicted time traveling. “How will we change it, Kal?”

Kal removed a coin from a belt pouch. He was not an artist by any stretch of the imagination. Still, the Jedi symbol was recognizable though less detailed. The Jaig Eyes on the other side were better. Kal had practiced that mark of honor while learning from Munin Skirata, his buir. Kal did not know everything the Jedi went through, but could not think of anyone more deserving of the mark. “One choice at a time. Starting with this one.” Kal held the coin in his first two fingers and displayed both sides to the Jedi. “I owe you a dance.”

“Kal….”

“You don’t intend to collect?”

“That’s not…”

“Then get outside. I don’t like racking up debt and I’m not getting younger.” Kal grumbled. He tucked the coin back into his belt pouch. “You know where I’ll be.” Kal donned his helmet and strode outside quickly. He could feel the heat flash through his cheeks to his ears. The only time he had attempted to dance with this Jedi was after Jango’s death. It had been such a different galaxy then. 

Kal waited just outside the bonfire’s warmth. Drums and flutes filled the air with ancient melodies while beskar pounded out its ringing beat. Then a hand settled onto his shoulder. Kal looked up into the bright blue blazing from behind the Temple Guard’s eye slits. “You do owe me that dance,” the Jedi answered. Voice filled with mirth. Even with the Temple Guard’s mask staring down at him, still charred and sliced, Kal released a chuckle, flipping the coin into the air. 

“This one is winding down.” He pushed through the pack of Mandalorians overcrowding Kyrimount. He got the attention of the leading musician and asked for a rousing beat. As leader of the Skirata Clan, Kal got the next dance. He stood in the dance space and presented the coin, expecting the Jedi to accept. It was a showmanship Kal bullied through. The missing heart of his armor remained keenly felt. Yet here he was, it the heart of his territory. Among his family and friends. Even invited guests to this Longest Night celebration witnessing that emptiness. “Jedi, I owe you more than a dance.”

The Jedi had yet to tell Kal his name, so Kal refused to use it despite that it was now public knowledge among the Skirata Clan. And he would never use it while the Temple Guard mask was in place. The Jedi had not wrapped over the sand-gold vambrace. It glittered in the firelight. “That you do.” The Jedi did accept the coin.

The drums blasted a loud thump, followed by a low thunderous rumble. The coin disappeared and their left arms slammed together. Neither backed down. That was not who they were. Quick feet and harsh clashes punctuated they’re spins. This was not the dance for the faint hearted. This was more combat than dance. Sparks flashed as Mandalorian Iron scraped against each other. Just like any fight, this dance could not drag out. 

With the final blow, they were chest to chest, slow to come back to the world. The Jedi’s eyes glowed that eerie blue. Tonight, that did not bother Kal. The Jedi stepped away first and suddenly Kal lost his breath. “Thank you, Kal,” the Jedi whispered before retreating into the stunned crowd. 

It was Jaster who dropped an arm around Kal’s shoulders and steered him away from the bonfire. “That is not what I expected.”

“I don’t care what you expected, Jaster. He’s not a puzzle to take apart.”

“No…. That he is not. Obi-Wan has been lost for far too long.” Jaster offered Kal a mug of something cold and sweet. The Clones of Jango Fett all seem to prefer juices over alcohol. Now that seemed to be the only drink served. “You however, you’re a puzzle.”

“Lay off.”

“You’re actually trying to fix it.”

“I don’t expect you to understand.” Kal brushed Jaster away. “I would have gone back for you if I had the chance… yet I didn’t go back for him when I could have. You don’t fix that.” Kal grabbed another mug of juice and searched out the Jedi, who had found a gently sloping hill that overlooked the bonfire ring. “Always out in the cold.” Kal set the drinks down between them, followed by his helmet behind them. “Tired already?”

“Yes and no.” The Jedi removed his mask and carefully placed it beside Kal’s helmet. “Not from the dance.”

“But from everything else. The Empire is encroaching and Jaster wants to muster a full army to prevent them from taking Mandalore. And he’s only been here for weeks.”

“Kal…” The Jedi removed a slim piece of beskar. “You’ve never stopped being safe. I am tired of being scared of my dreams. The nightmares….” The Jedi took Kal’s hand and pressed the Kar’ta into Kal’s palm. It was his sand-gold heart of his armor. Only it now bore a white flourish. All too similar to the golden flourishes on the Temple Guard’s robes. “I choose to start again. As many times as we must.”

Closing his hand around the kar’ta, Kal was uncertain. “Jedi…..”

“You may call me Obi-Wan.”

Kal snorted, finding the introduction absurd. “Yeah, you made me use Jedi for decades. Don’t expect Obi-Wan to be first choice. Hells, I’ve called you Ben often enough.” He did lean in and gently pulled Obi-Wan’s forehead to his. “You hold my heart. I hold yours. For eternity.”

“Kar'taylir darasuum.” Obi-Wan repeated, knowing far more Mando’a than Kal ever expected.