#bobobi

He had. Even now, with beskar lining the walls of his cell, he could still feel the wrongness of the Force in this time. He'd seen the inquisitors, what was apparently left of anything like formal training for Force users. Had barely escaped them. Wouldn't have escaped them, if not for this Mandalorian. "You're keeping me locked in a cell," he pointed out. "For your own safety, until you can be trusted to stay safe." Everything the Mandalorian said always sounded so reasonable, it grated at Obi-Wan's senses. Especially because it was very clear that this Mandalorian had known some version of him, one that was just different enough that Obi-Wan chafed under the expectations of it. He was no Master Jedi, hadn't even passed his Knighthood trials, yet, even though he was approaching an age when it was starting to reflect poorly on his skills. He'd known Mandalorians, though, still remembered so much of their language and culture after only a few years away (what had been a few years, for him), so he knew he shouldn't be surprised that he'd fallen in with one of them if... If the Jedi were really gone. Giving in would be so easy, the Mandalorian wasn't asking for much. For him to stay hidden behind armor, to willingly cut himself off from the brunt of the Force with beskar. For him to swear the Resol'nare, so it would all be true, so no inquisitor (or other, he couldn't help but get the impression there was some other that the Mandalorian worried about) could sense a lie when he gave the clan "Fett" as his own. The Mandalorian stroked a hand through his hair as he finished tilting the last of the water passed his lips. "I have to keep you safe. I couldn't, before, but now I will." "What was he to you? This other me?" Not a lover, he didn't think, no matter how intimate the Mandalorian's touches were becoming. That, Obi-Wan thought, was because he was a possession, because he was completely under his control, and that was the easiest way for him to make it known to Obi-Wan. "He had been my buir's lover." That, he hadn't expected, and he almost risked cringing away from the touch now. "I have a lot in common with my buir," there was some ironic twist to the Mandalorian's words that Obi-Wan couldn't work out, "but I'd been too young to realize just what he'd seen in you, before. And then you disappeared for so long." "He did. Not me." The Mandalorian stroked his cheek, ignoring how Obi-Wan shuddered. "He did," he agreed, and then, "and you, you're him, but not him. A completely different person in the same form. You're perfect for me."