#feybarn

It went on like that, Jango too tired to even open his eyes, for what seemed like days. He felt safe the whole time, as if the person taking care of him--and he was sure it was just one person--was projecting comfort. He hadn't felt like this since...not since before Jaster had died. Eventually, he could not keep putting off looking at this person, putting a face and name to them in his mind, one that might betray him. "Hello there," the voice said, and a figure moved into his line of sight. A human or near-human, masculine, wearing a casual tunic. They helped Jango sit up, drink water, as he had many times before, but this time he was offered food as well. Bland ration bars, what he would expect to find deep in the Republic, not on the Outer Rim world he last remembered being on. His caretaker chuckled. "I know, they're not great. But it was what I had on the ship that would be easy on your system." He chewed through as much as he could stomach, knowing he must need the calories, before addressing the tauntaun in the room, as much as he didn't want to. "Who are you?" "I'm Obi-Wan Kenobi," the name, thankfully or not, meant nothing to Jango. "I was on my way back to the spaceport when I came across you. I brought you back to my ship instead of dropping you at the local hospital because, well, someone running around in full beskar'gam out here probably isn't too fond of the authorities. Might I ask your name? You didn't have any identification on you." They were smart enough to answer his next questions, at least, even if they just created more. He studied Obi-Wan, the soft fall of their hair, the gentle eyes, the moderately attractive features made all the more interesting by his attitude and smooth Mando'a. Could he really trust this Obi-Wan? Could he not, when it was clear they had spent a lot of their time, and probably no few resources, on him? "What do you want me for?" Fixed up, he'd be a decent enough slave, though past his prime for playing the attractive bodyguard for some sleemo who cared more about impressions than actual safety. But most wouldn't bother. Hell, leaving him stripped down and taking his armor and weapons would be worth about as much as he'd be, anymore. "...Nothing? I know, it's odd," they gave a wry smile, a look that struck Jango for how perfect it was on his face, "but...something told me I shouldn't just leave you there. Perhaps the Manda called to me." "Jango," he said, finally. "Jango Fett." Obi-Wan blinked, frowned, and Jango could see the exact moment that the name registered. "...Truly?" He barked out a laugh, then stopped with a grimace, realizing he wasn't quite up to that, yet. "It doesn't mean anything, anymore, unless you keep up with bounty hunter news." "Only vaguely, I'm afraid." "I wasn't expecting more." He looked himself over, shifting here and there to get a feel for how he's recovering. A datapad appeared in Obi-Wan's hand, held out to him. "This is all your scans and what I did to heal you up." Jango took it with interest, finding thorough notes. "So you can continue treating yourself." Jango stared harder at the notes, the proof that the caring hands and words had existed in some way. "Kicking me out so soon?" "Oh, no! I simply assumed that's what you would want. As opposed to staying here with a stranger." "Not such a stranger, are you, Obi-Wan? Considering the state you've seen me in?" He was gifted with a laugh in return, which seemed to brighten the whole room. Altogether, he stayed for five more days. He thought he wasn't the only one finding reasons for his delay. When he left, he clad himself in beskar'gam that Obi-Wan had expertly cleaned and fixed. But back in his ship, alone, even the armor didn't bring him comfort. He missed Obi-Wan. If Jango had been a less talented bounty hunter, he may have never found Obi-Wan again. Yet, he had long ago learned to memorize all the information he could and to find people even after they'd disappeared into the depths of the galaxy. Finding out that Obi-Wan was a Jedi did not change his mind, not when they had spent weeks together with not a single sign of that wretched culture. Not when he knew that Obi-Wan had known who he was, but had never stopped helping him. He'd save him, as Obi-Wan had saved him.

The fight was inevitable and perhaps the hardest he'd ever had. Only the element of surprise had helped him, his initial instinctive blow to dismember his opponent relieving Palpatine of his main arm before the fight even really started. He'd been lucky to make it out relatively unscathed. Less lucky when some failsafe that the Sith must have planted blew up the office, the Force giving him just enough warning to flee, and Palpatine's home. Along with, according to the Guard, any proof that Obi-Wan was telling the truth and wasn't simply an assassin. Had he been brought out to walk them through what had happened? But, no, at the last minute they veered off from the ruined remains of the Chancellor's office into another. Bracing himself for what new humiliation might be waiting for him, he almost stumbled at what he found. Just Alpha-17, standing in some sort of ceremonial-looking armor that didn't bother hiding his braces, helmet resting on an ornate desk. "Alpha? What...What are you doing here?" The familiar smirk lightened his heart, despite how surreal the situation was. "Freeing you, Obi-Wan." No "General," no "Kenobi," what did that mean? He licked his lips, glancing around them, then over Alpha-17 once more. "And how did you manage that?" Alpha-17 motioned around them, as if encompassing the building, maybe even the planet. "We weren't going to let some corrupt politicians kill you off to make themselves feel better about missing a Sith Lord controlling them for years." "You believe me?" "Considering what Fox'ika and the rest of the Guard had to say? The only ones doubting you are the natborn idiots running this place. Well," Alpha-17's smirk turned into a feral grin, "who were running this place." Obi-Wan sucked in a breath. "Please tell me you didn't commit a military coup because they were going to execute me." The shrug he received didn't lift his spirits. "It was the last crack in a dam about to blow. We'd been plotting this since the beginning--before the beginning, if you count Jango Fett's plans. All we needed was a reason to execute them." Motioning for him to come closer, Alpha-17 met Obi-Wan halfway across the room, sweeping him into a tight embrace, the oddness offset by the possessive roil of emotions coming off of him. Only then, being held by a dear friend, feeling nothing but troopers around him, did Obi-Wan let himself accept that he actually was going to live. He slumped into the hold, squeezing his eyes shut and relaxing for the first time in days. "Don't worry, Obi-Wan," Alpha-17 breathed into his ear, holding him even tighter, the dig of armor welcome for its familiarity, "we won't let anything happen to you."

He wasn't even sure what he'd said to Fett, just that he'd been panicking inside his head the whole time. When he'd left that apartment, he'd gone back to his ship, sending out a transmission to an old code he had hoped, after, had long been deactivated. When he'd gone back into the facility, Fett had fled to who knew where. He'd glanced in on the clones again, finding some of the trainers, and...finding Kyr'tsad verde there, among them, as if that was perfectly normal. They'd taken one look at him and seemed to know what was happening, how he was struggling. They had bundled him up into some guest room and done everything they could to enforce his break. And then more of Kyr'tsad had come. In number that Obi-Wan hadn't expected at all, considering how quiet news from Mandalore had been. The verde inside had already taken out a good amount of the defenses and had apparently influenced more of the clones than anyone had known (how could Fett, or any of the Haat Mando'ade, been so foolish to leave Kyr'tsadiise with children? didn't they know what they did to children? to young, developing minds?). He'd gone out, after, to the landing platform his ship was on, even if it had been locked down so it could not take off. He needed a semblance of fresh air, as he wondered if he'd be killed or used as a hostage against the Jedi. Eventually, someone came for him--a contained, shielded presence that only had the slightest trace of warning with it. Turning, he watched the verde take off their buy'ce. Found himself staring into Pre Vizsla's face for the first time in almost two decades (he'd left in the middle of the night, a note folded on top of his beskar'gam, knowing it would never be enough). Pre's eyes raked over him in the light from the doorway. Obi-Wan was suddenly, painfully aware of the fact that he’d lost his cloak somewhere and his clothes, soaking wet as they were, were clinging tightly to his skin in a way that really didn’t leave much to the imagination. "Ben'ika," the first word and it was commanding in tone, but also his nickname, and one that surely Pre wouldn't be using if he meant to immediately kill him, "come inside. You're not doing yourself any favors out here, without your armor on." He followed obediently, still vulnerable from everything his own brain and the verde had done to him the last few days. Pre guided him with a hand on his back to another room, into a fresher. "Get warmed up," Pre ordered, but Obi-Wan could only blink, uncertain. "I won't have you sick on the trip home." "...Home?" He stripped, because he didn't particularly want to make Pre angry. The answer he was given was obvious, "Concordia. We're waiting for Fett to show back up, then we'll get out of here." "The clones?" Pre chuckled, leaning against the sink, never taking his eyes off of Obi-Wan. "Did you know, they have a chip in their brains? And orders on that they can't not obey?" Obi-Wan took a deep breath, stepping under the spray of water to hide his expression. What might Kyr'tsad do, with that technology? How much worse could their conditioning get? "I have people updating the orders now. It was very nice of the Republic to leave this hidden army for us to find." "You already had people here." There was the sound of armor moving, being set down, but Obi-Wan refused to look back. "They couldn't get word out, all they could do was collect information and wait. None of the trainers could tell me anything. Only you." Hands, firm and calloused, settled on his hips from behind. "I always knew you were meant to stay. Whatever the Jedi did to keep you away, it could never hold up, could it? Is that why you never came back to Mandalorian space?" Somehow it wasn't surprising to know that Pre wasn't just guessing, that he'd kept track of Obi-Wan's movements. "Don't worry, you'll never have to leave again. And with this pet army, Mandalore will be returned to how it's meant to be. All thanks to you."