#jangobi

Brown onyx Obi

Blue Azurite Jango

He blinks sweat out of his eyes, tries to clear his vision and think. The chaos caused by the attack will die down soon, and his chances of escaping will die with it, so he needs a plan. He stopped noticing the collar on his neck a few months in, but now it seems to weight a ton, to choke him, together with the dust that fills the mine - the old vents are shitty at the best of times, but they must have been damaged in the fighting. Another explosion in the distance, and Obi-Wan forces himself forward, pushing past exhaustion and bruised ribs and who knows what else. If he can only make it out...

Someone almost collides against him, running in like an absolute fool.

The collar might cut him off from the Force, but Obi-Wan’s reflexes remain sharp, and he’s got the blade up before the other being has even realised what’s happening.

“Wait!” the newcomer yells, voice distorted by a vocoder, face hidden by a helmet, and Obi-Wan feels the lack of connection to the Force so sharply: he can’t read the person’s expression or voice, and he can’t get a read on them by feel. But he doesn’t stab him yet. “You’re free. You’re all free.”

The Mandalorian, Obi-Wan registers, is speaking in Basic, very deliberately. And he hasn’t shot him yet, which is as good a clue as any that he’s friendly. A Mandalorian who wanted him dead wouldn’t be wasting time.

“You’re not taking us?” Obi-Wan asks, vibroblade still aimed at the neck of the newcomer, between helmet and gorget, where beskar can’t fully cover.

The strangers looks around at the carnage surrounding Obi-Wan, where two of the overseers tried to hold him back.

“You don’t have to keep fighting, kid. It’s over.” Obi-Wan snarls at being called a kid by this fresh-armoured boy with barely a scratch on his paint, but relents when the Mandalorian holds out a hand with…

Obi-Wan snatches the key to his collar before the other can even move, and opens it immediately and-

The world goes dark.

11 “You’ve been through hell. Let it process, go slow.”

When Obi-Wan comes to, is with a splitting headache. He can’t even open his eyes from the pain. Light still filters through, and it stabs at him. Other things filter through as well, people all around, threads of living beings… and before he even realises it, he’s crying. He can feel life around him once again. He is not cut off and alone, deprived of his most important sense, imprisoned inside his own flesh. It’s like being able to stretch again. The feeling makes him want to laugh, but he slaps his mouth with one hand. Better check out the situation before attracting too much attention.

A door hisses open.

“You’re awake? Are you in pain? I can get you painkillers.”

The voice is vaguely familiar, but Obi-Wan can’t quite place it, so he forces himself to pry his eyes open. Bad idea.

He manages to twist himself to the side before retching. “Sorry. I’m…” he dry heaves, “Sorry.”

“You’ve been through hell. Let it process, go slow.”

Obi-Wan manages to catch his breath and slowly focus his gaze on the visitor. Human, probably. Mandalorian armour… ah, the one from the mine, but without helmet. His deep brown eyes look at him with a worried, almost sorrowful, expression, which sounds excessive. Obi-Wan is fine. Kinda. Mostly. And anyway, why does this Mandalorian care?

“Where are we?” Obi-Wan decides to ask, because it’s useful.

“In hyperspace on the way to Concord Dawn. We put the others on transport to their home worlds, but no one seemed to know where you came from, so…”

Obi-Wan focuses on sitting up without throwing up again. And on avoiding the feelings the implicit question stir up in him. He is from nowhere, really.

“I’m Jango Fett,” the Mandalorian goes on, seeing as Obi-Wan is not volunteering any information. “What do I call you?”

“Ben.”

“Nice to meet you, Ben. Now rest, we don’t have anywhere to be for the next few hours.”

---