Reading Time: 90 Minutes

Title: OB-1
Series: OB-1
Series Order: 1
Author: Sunryder
Fandom: Star Wars Prequel Trilogy
Genre: Angst, Family, Kid!fic, Science Fiction
Relationship(s): Gen, background pairings
Content Rating: PG
Warnings: Discussion-Child Abuse, Discussion-Sexual Abuse, Discussion-Slavery, Self-Harm,
Word Count: 79,685
Summary: For over a thousand generations, Jedi Knights have been the guardians of peace and justice in the Galactic Republic. Force-sensitive children are brought to the Jedi Temple and there taught the ways of the Jedi. Throughout their youth these children undergo many trials, the last of which is to be chosen as an Apprentice before they turn 13. Despite his skill and talent in the Force, Obi-Wan Kenobi has been caught fighting another Initiate and deemed too angry to become a Jedi Knight. The Youngling has been expelled from the Temple to join the Agricorps instead…
Artist: Spennig

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Chapter Nine

“We have to keep looking for him!” Brair paced through the clearing, tugging on his tentacles the way Humans tugged on their hair.

“We can’t see him, Brair.” Ruzry tried to soothe, but she was only good at it when on a mission or when Brair was willing to be touched, and he’d have to hold still for that.

“But we still have eyes. And Obi-Wan isn’t going to be able to hold the invisibility forever so we’ll be able to sense him!”

“Or,” Feemor stepped into the clearing and interrupted the loud conversation he’d used to track them through the Room of a Thousand Fountains, “you could explain to me what happened.”

Ruzry had already given him a clipped explanation on the comm: they crashed into Obi-Wan in the hallway and he ran away after sobbing out an apology. But until Obi-Wan lowered his shields so they could find him, there was nothing for them to do but talk. Which gave Feemor space to ask them questions like: What were you talking about when you came across him? Did you hear him say anything else? Did he seem to react to something in particular? None of which was useful for finding the boy, but it was enough of a conversation to keep Brair from running around the Fountains in a panic.

Though, the answers told him plenty about Brair and Ruzry.

Ruzry repeated what Feemor already knew: Obi-Wan had been out of sorts in his updates to her. Like the rare times she pretended to be a criminal and the source wasn’t getting her information fast enough and thought they were going to be punished. For all Ruzry stayed calm – the woman had had informants go missing before – her face mask was on. Not the synthskin or holo projection she liked to use around the adults in the Temple. She was in the air filtration face mask, which meant she was enough emotional upheaval that she wanted the layer of technology to keep her pheromones under control.

As for Brair, he hadn’t stopped moving the entire time, his hair tentacles whipping about like snakes to go searching.

“Have you checked in with whatever eavesdropping software you have on the Creche to see if something happened?”

Shadow paused. Then reached for her comm in lieu of acknowledging that no, she hadn’t. Ruzry was Tyvokka’s lieutenant. His left hand if one were to use pack-based species’ parlance. If something were to happen to Tyvokka, Ruzry was the one who’d find out what happened and carry out swift justice. The fact that she had dropped the ball said more about her level of attachment than Feemor was expecting. He’d thought her investment in the boy was mostly through Brair and Tyvokka, two of the few people in the world Ruzry herself was attached to. Apparently not.

Brair was so busy fretting he missed the exchange. “Seriously, why don’t we just go looking for him? We’ve got eyes! We can find one missing Initiate!”

“Master Brair.” Feemor soothed from his low, unthreatening seat on the grass. “We’re waiting because Obi-Wan isn’t ready for us to find him.”

“What?” The whole mass of tentacles rose three inches.

“This is how preteens deal with emotional upset.”

“Running away?”

“Yes.” They both looked baffled. “Ruzry, you only spend time with other adults and Shadows. You’re wonderful at interpreting them, but they’re different from children. Even older children. And Master Brair, you spend your time around other adults who share your very specific field. What’s more, neither one of you has had a Padawan. You’re out of practice when dealing with youths in Obi-Wan’s age group. If you go after him right now, that will make things worse than better.”

“But he’s hurting.” Brair’s voice cracked.

“Yes. And he’s not ready to talk. We cannot push. Or,” Feemor admitted, “perhaps pushing is the right thing, I cannot know for certain without knowing Obi-Wan better. But I do know that based on what I’ve heard and my general experience with preteens, we need to wait until he’s ready.”

“When we will know that?”

“When we can feel him in the Force. That will be a sign that he’s no longer so panicked that he’s unconsciously using the Force to hide.”

“So,” Brair huffed out a slow, not-quite-meditative breath, “we wait until we can feel him.”

“Yes. Then we talk.”

@@@@@

There was a small plateau deep into the Room of a Thousand Fountains. It held a stream of slow water a few feet wide, which led to a short waterfall that joined another, joined another, and joined another that became one of the less impressive but still notable waterfalls in the room. A person had to climb and climb to get here, and Obi-Wan had never had company while he lay curled on a soft bed of leaves in the arboreal cave between two trees. The trees were short, planted too near one another so their long, drooping branches made the perfect hideaway. The place was close enough to hear the rush of water, but far enough that no one has ever come looking for him. Which was what Obi-Wan needed today.

Obi-Wan laid there, hidden in the dappled sunshine long enough that his tears had dried and he knew it was time to get up.

He still felt miserable, but he had to face the horrible things he’d done. He couldn’t stay under the trees forever. He… he had to tell them the truth.

<<Break it down into pieces.>> Crechemaster Hoowrirl used to say. The first step was getting up. The second was finding Ruzry and Brair and apologizing for not telling them right then and there when he realized he’d been wrong. Obi-Wan was stabbed by guilt, and hoped that however long he’d spent curled up here wouldn’t be the difference between fixing and not fixing what he’d done.

He had to put his feet under him and go find them. Which shouldn’t be too difficult since they had probably gone to the tea with Tyvokka they’d been talking about.

Oh… Obi-Wan breathed through the rush of horrible grief that he was going to have to go and say all this in front of Tyvokka.

The grief curled into mortification that made him bury his face in the dirt, unable to hold back a moan.

Obi-Wan couldn’t believe he’d done that. It was bad enough that he’d been a burden to everyone all this time, but he’d run away like a toddler throwing a tantrum?

That was proof he wasn’t supposed to be here. Jedi Padawans didn’t run when they knew they’d done something wrong. They faced it. (As if Obi-Wan needed more proof that Bruck was right.)

He’d failed them. He’d ruined things for the people who had tried to take care of him. But Obi-Wan could right it now. “Change the past, you cannot.” Master Yoda said. “But learn from it, you can.”

Obi-Wan summoned his strength and crawled out of the trees. Step one in his plan to track them down and apologize for running away. They were going to ask why, and he was going to have to tell them that they were wrong. He didn’t want to, but he had to. He had to tell them as soon as he could so they could have the chance to unwind everything and maybe his mistake wouldn’t hurt them. Obi-Wan was willing to stand in front of Yoda and the High Council if he had to, if it meant they would be safe.

Obi-Wan brushed the dirt off his skin as he crawled out of his cave and into the little clearing that opened onto the thin river. Maybe step two should be finding his way to a shower so he looked presentable when he told them he’d ruined their lives. Maybe the cold creek would be good enough?

Obi-Wan looked up and there was a Jedi he’d never seen before, cross-legged atop a smooth river rock, waiting for Obi-Wan.

Obi-Wan froze, but the Jedi just smiled. Obi-Wan wanted to panic, but something about the man’s eyes and his presence in the Force said that would be like panicking at the sight of a stuffed animal. The man was giving him the smile you gave a friend when they’d been embarrassed in front of you but no else had seen and they were going to protect you.

“I left Brair and Ruzry at the bottom of the waterfall. I can call them up if you’d like to talk with them instead.” The Human nodded towards the end of the creek, where it tipped over into the air. “Or we can talk, you and I.”

“I—” Obi-Wan swallowed to clear his hoarse throat. “I owe them an apology.”

“If that will make you feel better.”

He didn’t understand, this Jedi with the bright blue eyes. “I ran away when they tried to talk to me.”

“Maybe you do owe them an apology. Or maybe you owe them an explanation. Or maybe you don’t owe them anything and would just like to give them one.”

Obi-Wan had… never been told before that the way to handle a problem was not with an apology.

The young Knight – his eyes were unlined and his dark blond hair was close-cropped like he’d just grown out of his Padawan cut – gave Obi-Wan that soft smile again. Like he knew Obi-Wan was confused and he appreciated that Obi-Wan was willing to show him.

“It is a pleasure to meet you, Obi-Wan Kenobi. My name is Feemor. I am a mind healer. Master Tyvokka called me in to advise the Grand Council.”

Obi-Wan stiffened. His only experience with mind healers had been through Quinlan, who’d had to speak with one for years after he was almost murdered by the aunt who murdered his parents. mind healers were only called when something terrible happened.

Feemor smiled again. “I’m here to talk with all the Initiates in your age group about their experiences with and impressions of the Reassignment Council.”

That seemed sufficiently terrible. “Are you here to talk to me about that?”

“No. I was with Master Tyvokka when Brair and Ruzry commed. They were worried that they had done something to hurt you.”

“They didn’t.” Obi-Wan’s voice broke. Feemor waited, no expectations on his face or in his Force presence while Obi-Wan summoned his courage. Feemor must’ve been young, because he didn’t give off any of the pressure adults did when they wanted someone to talk. Master Tyvokka had made a good choice for the Initiates.

“I hurt them.”

Feemor tilts his head. “How so?”

Obi-Wan tugged on his dirty sleeves. He wanted to stay quiet, to only say it once. But he was the one in the wrong and he needed to make it right. Maybe this could be practice, telling the truth to someone whose opinion he didn’t know.

“I shouldn’t be here. It was right for me to be sent away.” It was like a dam unclogged. “I didn’t understand that before, but I do now. I was always broken and I just didn’t see it. And now that I’m gone, the other Initiates get to live to their full potential. It was right for me to go away. I was running things for them.”

Obi-Wan dragged his dirty sleeve over his leaking nose. “I need to apologize to Brair, and Ruzry and,” his voice cracked, “and Tyvokka for dragging them into this when I was wrong. They worked so hard to look after me. To stand up for me. But they’re going to get hurt because they shouldn’t have. I was supposed to leave. I was always broken; I just didn’t see it.”

Obi-Wan finally looked up from the dirt. He didn’t know what he was expecting, but it wasn’t Feemor leaning forward, his chin propped on his raised knee, like a friend listening to Obi ramble about a bad day. That expression made Obi-Wan murmur, “It was so nice to be liked like that. I felt like I had a future here with them. Now I don’t. Bruck shouldn’t have had to tell me what I should’ve figured out for myself. I should have understood when all three of them, who fought so hard for me, didn’t want me as a Padawan anyway.

“And if that wasn’t enough, I should have realized when other kids didn’t want to be around me. Bruck, of all people, was the one who had to tell me. Bruck who was apparently special in a way I never saw. I just thought he was the messed up one, the bully. I was wrong about everything, including myself.”

“May I ask a question?” Obi-Wan wasn’t expecting that. If he’d been expecting anything it would’ve been the general level of adult kindness that he’d gotten over the last two weeks. But Feemor hadn’t been tricked by him yet.

Obi-Wan nodded.

“Why is Bruck special?”

Obi-Wan blinked. He didn’t know why he was surprised that it wasn’t common knowledge, but he was. “Master Dapatian is going to take him as a Padawan.”

“Ah, so you believe that because Bruck has been chosen by Master Dapatian to be a Padawan, Bruck was never a bully, always special, was right about everything, and you were always wrong. Thus, you deserved to leave the Order without talking to the Reassignment Council, and Ruzry, Brair, and Tyvokka were wrong to help you, wrong to call for the Grand Council, and wrong to fix the system to protect other children. Is that correct?”

Obi-Wan shook his head ‘yes’ and ‘no’ at the same time. It was correct, but… the others. Just because Obi-Wan deserved to be sent away didn’t mean other children did, and he said so.

“May I ask another question?”

Some part of Obi-Wan had been hoping that Feemor would understand and, as a mind healer, offer to help Obi-Wan explain to the others, maybe help him come up with a plan to keep them from getting hurt. But it was Obi-Wan’s mistake, and thus his responsibility to clean up. “All right?”

“If I understand correctly, you believe that you deserved to be cast out of the Order because you realized that Bruck was right about you being unworthy—” Obi-Wan must’ve grimaced, because Feemor paused. “Not unworthy. Broken? Is that the word you used?” Obi-Wan nodded. It was true but he… he didn’t like hearing someone say it out loud. “Thank you for clarifying. Bruck was right about you being broken, and you just never noticed it.”

Obi-Wan couldn’t make himself say, ‘yes.’ But he nodded his head.

“Bruck was right all along and for years your friends have been lying to you.”

That one was worse. Obi-Wan’s nod was smaller. He felt uncomfortable and disloyal for saying it.

“Bruck was right all along and for years all of your teachers and trainers have been lying to you.”

Obi-Wan nodded again.

“So, all of your teachers, including the notoriously difficult to please Master Drallig, were lying about you being a talent capable of becoming a Battlemaster, let alone a Knight.”

That… that didn’t sound quite right. Master Drallig was honest all the time, even when it made students cry.

But Feemor waited for Obi-Wan to answer, even with a little nod.

“Not only was Bruck right, but Ruzry and Brair lied to you too?”

“No! They didn’t lie, they were just… wrong.”

“Wrong.” Feemor weighed the word. “May I ask another question?” Obi-Wan wished he wouldn’t.

“Obi-Wan, do you believe that your friends, your teachers, your trainer, Ruzry, and Brair were all mistaken in their belief in you, and Bruck was the only one in the world who saw you for who you really were; or do you believe that you deceived them?”

Obi-Wan’s stomach jumped at the truth he hadn’t put into words yet.

He wouldn’t have felt as wretched as he did if they’d all just made a mistake.

No, Obi-Wan had tricked all of them into thinking he was good and worthwhile, and it was only after t=he left that everyone in Creche understood that he wasn’t. Obi-Wan gulped back tears, but it didn’t do any good, he could feel them overflow down his cheeks.

“So, it’s not that everyone in your life has lied to you, it’s that you tricked everyone in your life.”

Obi-Wan made himself nod.

“Everyone in your life except for the boy who has been repeatedly disciplined for bullying you.”

Ye… wait, that… “Yes?”

Feemor raised an eyebrow.

Obi-Wan’s brain took a long moment to put the pieces together. “Wouldn’t that be a reason to bully me?”

“What do you mean?”

“He bullied me because he knew I didn’t belong here and he was trying to tell everyone, and they didn’t listen.”

“Ahhh,” Feemor signed like it made sense. “So, you were the only one he bullied.”

“What?”

“Well, if he was lashing out in frustration because he was the only one you didn’t trick, then logically, you should be the only one he bullied. Is that it?”

Obi-Wan picked at the seam of his trousers. Obi-Wan’s poor brain kept trying to let him cry, but Feemor kept asking these strange questions and getting in the way.

“He wasn’t nice to my friends. But he would be frustrated with them too, for believing me.”

Feemor hummed again. “Only your friends?”

“What?”

“He didn’t bully other children? Just your friends?”

“Well, no.” Obi-Wan could name at least four other children who Bruck had made cry and who Obi-Wan barely knew at all. Bruck was talented and smart and charming, and so he always made it sound like it was just a misunderstanding and got out of trouble. At least, that’s what Obi-Wan would have said before today.

“So, he didn’t just bully people because he was frustrated that no one else saw the truth of you.”

“I guess not?” Obi-Wan stammered.

“So, it doesn’t make sense that that’s why he would be a bully.”

“No. But… that doesn’t mean I still didn’t trick everyone.”

“You’re right.” Feemor conceded. “May I ask you questions about that too?”

Obi-Wan didn’t flop to the ground, but he wanted to. “Yes.”

“You think you deceived everyone in the Temple – friends, teachers, Brair, Ruzry – into believing that you are good when you are not.”

“Master Yoda wouldn’t have thrown me out if I wasn’t supposed to go. He figured out that I was broken. It took him a while. It took Master Jinn seeing it before he understood, but he did.”

Feemor didn’t seem convinced. “So, you believe that you deceived everyone except for Bruck.” Obi-Wan opened his mouth and Feemor continued. “And Master Jinn and Master Yoda. And when Master Yoda figured it out, he cast you out immediately.”

“Yes.” Obi-Wan sighed. It was almost a relief to have someone finally understand. To have it said aloud.

Feemor shifted, back straight, hands in his lap, and tilted his head in a way that made Obi-Wan regret ever thinking of the man as a stuffed animal. “Tell me Obi-Wan Kenobi, do you think you, a twelve-year-old child, could trick the Master of Shadows?”

“What?” Obi-Wan’s brain stuttered.

“Master Tyvokka is the Master of Shadows, Obi-Wan. Do you believe that you could trick the Master of Shadows into believing you are good when you are not?”

Hope flared in his chest.

Obi-Wan swallowed it back.

“‘Good’ isn’t the same thing as ‘supposed to be a Jedi.’”

“No, but, someone capable of deceiving almost every Jedi in the Temple couldn’t be good. Wouldn’t Master Tyvokka be able to see that?” Feemor hunched and propped his chin on his raised fist, like he was teasing. “Or are you capable of deceiving the Master of Shadows?”

Obi-Wan had read stories about wounds being lanced, the infection draining from them. The hope bubbling in his chest felt like that. Obi-Wan choked the relief to stop himself from crying. He had to be sure.

“But I can’t be good because I ran away when I had a problem. Jedi don’t run.”

“You’re human, Obi-Wan. You thought you’d just found out a terrible piece of news, and you were hurting. That’s enough of a reason to take some time to recover.” Jedi didn’t need time to recover. “Tell me, what were you on your way to do when I arrived?”

“To find Ruzry and Brair and apologize.”

“See? The moment you calmed down, you wanted to tell them the truth you thought you’d learned and apologize. It was just bad luck that you happened across them when your emotions were raw and weren’t ready to talk.”

“That’s not very Jedi-like.”

“Maybe not, but you are young, and you’ll learn.”

That… that made sense. But Obi-Wan still had questions.

Feemor must’ve been a very good mind healer because he tilted his head like he could see the questions. “What is it?”

“If there’s nothing wrong with me,” Obi-Wan’s voice was heavy on the maybe, “how did Bruck get chosen?”

“Did he?”

“He’s been going to lunch with Master Dapatian!”

“That doesn’t mean he’s been chosen.”

“It means a High Councilor is eating lunch with him!”

“Perhaps Bruck has shown a different side to himself now that his greatest rival is gone. Or perhaps the Councilor was looking into the Creche and thought Bruck, as a student about to age out, would have the most useful opinion. Or perhaps the Councilor was just eating lunch. We cannot know.”

That… that made more sense than Bruck being chosen.

And… what if he had? Obi-Wan dropped his chin to his knees and mulled. Which Feemor didn’t seem to mind. What if Bruck had straightened himself out while Obi-Wan was away? Or maybe… maybe Master Dapatian really did see something in Bruck. Would that be okay?

Obi-Wan held onto that thought for a long moment, looking at it from all angles, letting it settle in his mind.

Yes. It would be okay.

Because Obi-Wan had gotten better over the last week, so maybe Bruck could get better too. And it… it was fine that Bruck might get chosen as a Padawan even though Obi-Wan wasn’t going to be, the thought came curdling back.

Feemor interrupted, like he could tell the moment Obi-Wan’s disbelief reared its head. “There are all sorts of things we cannot know unless we ask.”

Obi-Wan glanced at him, waiting for some sign of what Feemor meant. But the Knight just raised an eyebrow, like he’d let Obi-Wan feign confusion if he wanted. But… Obi-Wan didn’t need to ask why Brair and Ruzry didn’t want him. He knew already.

Well, at least… he thought he knew. But: there are all sorts of things he couldn’t know unless he asked.

“Why don’t they want me?”

Feemor smiled at Obi-Wan, bright and proud. “I cannot tell you for sure because I haven’t discussed it with them, and I wouldn’t betray their confidence by telling you without their permission. But I can tell you why I wouldn’t take you as a Padawan.”

Obi-Wan swallowed. It shouldn’t hurt to be told ‘no’ by a man he barely knew, but it did. Maybe because Feemor was kind enough to give him an out to not know. Not to have someone he’d just met call him reckless, and emotional, and say he shouldn’t be a Jedi.

Obi-Wan breathed in the dark damp of crushed leaves and breathed out his pain. It would hurt, but at least this time he’d know and have the relief of being done with it. It wouldn’t be like with Ruzry or Brair. He could just let the hope die and move on. “Please.”

“Our areas of interest don’t match.”

“What?” It was like Obi-Wan had asked Feemor his favorite planet and he’d answered ‘daffodils.’

“I’m a mind healer, Obi. I love my work and find it fascinating. I feel purpose when I do it. As I sit in conversation with someone like we are, I can feel the Force blossom between us, like something good and wholesome is growing in the person I’m speaking with. And that is precisely how I want the Force to feel. Mind Healing like this is what I want to do with my life.” Feemor shrugged. “And I don’t think you’d have the same joy from being a mind healer.”

“That… that’s it?”

“Yes. That’s it. I think you and I could have an excellent personality match, and that you’d be good as a mind healer, but I don’t think you want to be one.”

“I want to be a Jedi.”

“Do you think you’d be happy apprenticed to a Master stationed on Bandomeer, spending your whole apprenticeship working with plants and becoming a Knight who specializes in planetary reclamation?” Obi-Wan couldn’t help his pucker. “Or would you be happier with the Corpsfolk on an Exploracorps ship having adventures through the galaxy?” The latter. And they both knew it. “How important is the name to what will make you happy?”

“You don’t think I’m going to Fall.” Obi-Wan meant to ask, but said instead.

“No. Everyone has the potential, but no, if you were to Fall, it would be so far removed from the person you are now that I cannot see the path for it to happen.”

“Do you think…” Feemor let Obi-Wan toy with his sleeves while he gathered his thoughts. “In your professional opinion, do you think that’s why Brair and Ruzry don’t want me? Not that I’m bad, but that…”

“That the Master of Artisans and Head of the Jedi Order Technical Division, who spends his days designing, lecturing, and repairing spacecraft thinks that the boy who has displayed a marked skill in research, diplomacy, and combat might be better suited to a Master with a different specialty?” Feemor said it so lightly, but like it was obvious to everyone but Obi-Wan.

“And Ruzry? She does research and combat. She’s taught me a lot.”

“I’m sure she has.” Feemor grinned, blue eyes sparkling. “The disconnect there might be about her work. Or, it might be that she’s a Zeltron.”

“What?”

“Ruzry is a Zeltron.” Feemor repeated.

“But she’s…” Obi-Wan waved his hand in front of his face. “Brown.” Zeltrons were anywhere from aquatic pink to almost Zabrack red, but definitely not the base-human color of Ruzry’s skin.

“She has a holographic emitter in her collar that changes the appearance of her complexion. She’s also got a pheromone filter embedded there as well, and her clothes are made of pheromone-dampening materials. That’s why she was able to take her mask off in front of you. If she didn’t have them, you wouldn’t have met her at all.”

“Why?” Obi-Wan knew from his Galactic Sociology class that Zeltrons could produce pheromones that kept people calm and made them like them. That pheromone awareness also came with low-level telepathy to understand emotions. Which, now that he thought about it, aligned perfectly with how Ruzry knew when Obi-Wan was struggling, just like Brair’s tentacles.

Feemor bit back a smile. “Have you had your Basic Sexualities class?”

“Yes, wh… oh.” Obi-Wan remembered now. The text had some commentary about Zeltrons that had made every student blush.

“Yes, oh. All the dampening in the world can’t stop Ruzry’s pheromone production. Also, she can only dampen the pheromones for so long before it hurts her, but she can’t release them completely around you because baseline Humans have no defense. A sexually mature adult would at least feel friendly, but if Ruzry were to allow her pheromones full expression around a pubescent, near-Human, male? That would be tantamount to abuse.”

“Really?”

“Yes. If Ruzry were to take a Padawan, she would be limited to species Quermians like Master Poof who don’t have the same kind of pheromones as Humans and near-Humans, or species like Brair, who are more in control of their pheromones.”

“So, she never gets to have a Padawan?”

“She can, but, as I said, she’s limited in species. I imagine the Creche informs her when they have species-compatible Padawans. Until she finds a match, she mentors Junior Knights on investigative work, and will help teach Shadow-track Padawans about how to deal with pheromones, as well as share some of her other skills.”

“But why the holo-emitter if it doesn’t do anything?”

Feemor’s eyes went a little sad. “Sometimes the galaxy is a terrible place and people make assumptions about others based on their species. Sometimes it’s easier for her to pretend to be Human.”

They had covered that in his Basic Sexualities class too.

Obi-Wan’s chin went back to his knees. He’d never thought that anyone might be limited in their species for who they could train. For all he’d learned about other species, no instructor had ever mentioned that. No instructor had ever talked about matching up with a Master because of shared interests either, but it made sense.

“But…” Obi-Wan caught himself and backed up. “I understand about Ruzry. I wouldn’t want to hurt her. And I understand about you and Brair. That we’re not the best fit, but… I could learn? It wouldn’t be my best fit, but I could make it fit.”

“I think that’s part of the difficulty: you could learn anything. But it’s not just about what you could do, it’s about what you want to do.”

“But just because I learned one thing as a Padawan, that doesn’t mean I couldn’t do something else as a Knight.”

“It all fits together.” Feemor shook his head.

“It can, but—”

Feemor raised his hand and Obi-Wan stopped, prepared to be shut down. “My Master was a diplomat.”

Obi-Wan startled, both at the words and that Feemor was still explaining. “A well-known, highly-regarded diplomat.”

“There’s overlap there.” Obi-Wan argued. “You’re negotiating people into feeling better.”

“Yes, his training has proved helpful. But he became my Master because he’s also skilled with plants and the Living Force.”

“Really?” Obi-Wan furrowed, because that was an unexpected overlap.

“Yes. I was going to join the Agricorps when I was your age.”

Obi-Wan startled, torn between shock and embarrassment while he tried to remember if he’d said anything about plants during this conversation. Feemor just smiled.

“My Master took me on as a Padawan with the intent that I would become a Knight who specialized in botany and would join the Agricorps after my apprenticeship. I would be a specialist who could talk their way into helping planets and opening the door for the rest of the Corps.”

“How did you end up here?”

“For my Knight Trial, I went to Belsavis and helped Master Plett with his research. He’s a five-hundred-year-old Ho’Din who’s been working on the rehabilitation of glassed planets for almost three hundred years. He’d like to restore planets like Tatooine, and Mandalore, and others that war has destroyed.”

Obi blinked. “Right.” Feemor laughed. “You don’t like plants. It is fascinating work, though.”

Obi-Wan nodded and genuinely believed it. “It would be interesting to learn about, and to talk with you about. But… perhaps not fascinating to do.” Obi-Wan blushed. “It is important, though! I can tell.”

“It is important work.” Feemor agreed. “And I joined Master Plett on the Outer Rim for nine months, helping him carry out his experiments and designing one of my own to help in his work.”

“What happened?”

“Jedi often join Master Plett when they are in recovery.”

“From what?”

“A mission gone wrong. Torture. The death of a Padawan. An incurable illness. All sorts of things. And they–” Feemor stopped, and Obi-Wan could tell he wanted to say that they got treated with plants, but that wasn’t quite right. But Obi-Wan nodded that he understood.

“It wasn’t about the plants. It was about the Living Force. It was about doing something good that will outlast you. Something that, if you make a mistake, no one will die.” Obi-Wan nodded. He’d loved his research projects with MO because there was nothing to them but curiosity. He thought it must be the same.

“I went to Master Plett to learn to rebuild a planet, and I learned to rebuild people instead.”

“It doesn’t sound like a big difference when you explain it that way.”

Feemor leaned in and stage whispered, “I’ve had lots of practice explaining it.”

Obi-Wan snorted out a laugh.

“Can you imagine? Years I spent working with plants, certain beyond all belief that I was meant for the Agricorps. Me and every adult in my life. And then I went away for nine months to work on my Senior project, and I came back sworn to Mind Healing.”

“What did they say?” Obi-Wan asked, enthusiastic.

“They had me meet with another mind healer.”

Obi giggled. “But why were they convinced you were going to go to Agricorps? Just because you wanted to?”

“I was – am – prodigiously talented with plants.”

“So, what made you change your mind?”

“I wanted to.” Feemor shrugged.

“That’s… that’s it? The Force didn’t tell you you were meant to be a mind healer?”

“No. I don’t think I even asked.”

“But you have to ask!” Obi-Wan objected.

“Do you? How?”

“You think about what answer you’re looking for, then you meditate and the Force tells you what it wants you to do.”

“Does it?”

“Yes!”

“What if it doesn’t?”

“Then you need to meditate more! Or ask for advice and the Force will guide you through other people.”

“Really?”

“Yes!”

“I didn’t.” Feemor shrugged with a bright grin.

“What do you mean you didn’t? You just… what? Changed paths on a whim?”

“Changed paths because it felt right.”

“That’s the same thing as asking the Force!”

“Is it?”

“…yes?”

“That sounds like a question.”

“It… it is.” Obi-Wan hesitated.

“So, anytime you write a paper about something just because it’s interesting, that’s the same thing as the Force telling you what to do?”

“That’s different.”

“Why?”

Obi-Wan was so frustrated he nearly started vibrating like MO. “Because we’re supposed to do what the Force tells us for big decisions!”

“And why isn’t something being interesting, or feeling right, or simply being what you want not as important as the Force telling you to turn left or right?”

“Because it’s not! Because… we’re supposed to do what we’re told!”

“And how does the Force tell you what to do?”

“Meditation, like I said.”

Feemor just hummed.

“What?” Obi-Wan grumbled.

“That’s not how the Force guides me.”

“What?” Obi-Wan was getting sick of the whiplash.

“Come.” Feemor waved Obi-Wan up and away from the water, past the trees to another little clearing where small flowers were growing. Obi-Wan sank to a cross-legged seat, and Obi-Wan joined him, like they were going to meditate with a flower between them.

It was a fragile little thing, bent under the weight of a bud that wasn’t ready to blossom.

“Let me show you what Force guidance feels like to me.” Feemor murmured. Together, they closed their eyes and Feemor opened the shields around his mind to invite Obi-Wan in.

Obi-Wan hadn’t done this in years, not since the instructors had first showed them how to build mental shields. It felt like poking his head around the corner into someone else’s room. Like he wanted to say hello but didn’t want to intrude.

Obi-Wan caught Feemor’s amusement and after a gentle tug he stepped past the door. Obi-Wan was caught by the warm feeling of the plant growing stronger. Like the humming of notes getting louder, its roots burrowing deeper. The little flower’s spine straightened, stiffening as it developed a backbone, the string of a melody forming. Then Obi-Wan could feel it reaching up, like arms reaching for a sun salutation stretch, the fullness of the melody unwinding into complete chords, the petals unfurling.

Obi-Wan’s eyes fluttered open and there was the blossom between them, weeks’ of growth in a matter of minutes. Instead of being thready and malnourished like plants always were when Obi-Wan tried to help them grow in class, this one was strong and healthy.

“That’s why they thought you were going to work for the Corps when you graduated.” Obi-Wan said, still looking at the tower of blue blossoms.

“Exactly. And honestly, at that point I didn’t really care about becoming a Padawan. I just wanted the plants.”

That tore Obi-Wan’s gaze away from the flower. He couldn’t imagine not wanting to be a Padawan with everything in his soul. “Then why did you?”

“My Master promised to teach me more things that I would’ve learned in the Corps. And I did.”

Obi-Wan looked back at the flower still healthy and not already withering like a popped balloon. “I don’t.”

“Don’t… what?”

“Help plants grow. I try, but they don’t look like this.” Obi-Wan reached out and touched the soft petals, still expecting them to drop under his hands.

“It’s easier for me to help plants grow because that’s what the Force feels like for me.”

Obi-Wan looked up again with a furrow. They’d been growing a plant, of course it felt like growing plants.

“Come in a little closer.” With his mind, Feemor waived Obi-Wan back into his shields. Obi-Wan closed his eyes and took more than a single step through the door this time. Feemor showed Obi-Wan how he perceived something, something not a plant, but like a plant. It had a strong backbone but a little curled, a good rhythm but quiet and uncertain, the melody hesitant to be played.

“What’s that?”

“It’s you.”

Obi-Wan jolted out of the meditation. “What?”

“That’s you. That’s what you feel like to me in the Force, and what the Force feels like to me all the time: plants growing. And that, more than my gift with plants, is why I and everyone around me thought I would go to the Agricorps. That’s why it was easy for me to tend to plants in the first place.”

“I don’t… I don’t feel the Force like plants.”

“What do you feel it like?”

“Like…” Obi-Wan closed his eyes and tried to think about what he’d been feeling while Feemor made the little blue plant grow. To help, Feemor opened his shields and reached for the plant again, not urging it to do anything, but just viewing it through the Force instead of with his eyes, tracing the melody of its strong stem—

“Oh!” Obi-Wan’s eyes snapped open. “Music. I hear music.”

Obi-Wan was still nestled far enough inside Feemor’s shields that he could feel the jolt of surprise that wasn’t on Feemor’s face. “Is that… is that bad?”

“No.” Obi-Wan could feel that Feemor meant it. “It’s just, given your prodigious talent with the blade, I expected some kind of motion. Maybe feeling the flower stretch.”

“There was that too. But… the music was stronger.” Obi-Wan thought hard about it, trying to put it more into words, but all he could summon was the melody of the growing flower.

“Obi, that’s lovely.” Feemor smiled, and he didn’t realize they were still sharing shields. Obi-Wan blushed and mentally stepped away. “I didn’t… it’s the plant. Like…” Obi-Wan stumbled. “I feel like a plant that’s not quite strong yet, to you.”

“Yes.”

“And other people who are not quite strong yet, will feel just the same.”

“They will feel not quite strong yet, but perhaps in a different way, and definitely a different plant. You are an ‘Obi plant.’”

“You said that’s how the Force guides you.”

“Yes.”

“You… I don’t understand how.”

“I feel the way things grow. When I say that becoming a mind healer ‘felt right,’ I mean that I felt a good and strong plant down that path. A plant I wanted to spend years and years growing because I wanted to see what it became. I wanted to partake of its fruits.”

“What did the Agricorps ‘plant’ feel like?”

“Honestly?” Feemor asked, an eyebrow raised.

That was nerve-wracking. “Yes.”

“Like carrots.” Obi-Wan snorted a surprised laugh. “It felt easy to grow and didn’t require much fuss. Still good, and tasty, but… serviceable.” Feemor murmured the last part a secret. “And a little boring.”

“But being a mind healer?”

“It felt… have you ever tried to grow a fruit tree?”

“No.” Obi-Wan said, because that should be obvious.

“They’re hard work. Not fussy, or quick to wither, but they take years and years to grow, then years more before they’re willing to give you fruit. And then you have to tend to it every year to make it grow fruit again. I knew being a mind healer would be hard work, and work I’d have to maintain, but work I could do. And the plant at the end… it would be beautiful.”

Obi-Wan didn’t need to be inside Feemor’s shields to feel the joy radiating from him.

“Now,” Feemor leaned in and poked Obi-Wan. “What song do you hear?”

“For the flower?”

“No, what song do you hear when you think about joining the Corps?”

“I…” Obi-Wan hadn’t listened.

Feemor titled his head. “What song do you hear when you think about being Brair’s Padawan? Or Ruzry’s? Or mine?”

“I…” Obi-Wan was ashamed to say that he hadn’t asked the Force at all, let alone listened to any music about it. But also, “It’s not my choice.”

“Why not?”

Obi-Wan sighed. He should’ve known Feemor would say that. “Because that’s not how it works. A Master chooses you to be a Padawan. An Initiate doesn’t choose a Master.”

“Well, even if the Master chooses the Padawan, the Padawan has to choose the Master back, don’t they?”

“You can’t say no!” Obi-Wan hissed.

“You can’t?” Feemor feigned bafflement and Obi-Wan pursed his lips to keep from groaning at Feemor being deliberately difficult.

“You can’t say no, and you can’t ask people why not, and you can’t ask people to match you, and you can’t choose the song for yourself.” Obi-Wan spat out, basics of existence that didn’t go away just because Feemor didn’t like them.

“Obi-Wan.” Feemor furrowed. “That sounds like a terrible way to live.”

“I was all right with it.”

“Let’s try for something better than ‘all right,’ shall we?”

Obi-Wan groaned and face planted in his knees. That didn’t stop Feemor though.

“Perhaps instead of waiting for someone to choose you, or waiting for the Force to tell you which path to walk, you could choose for yourself the song you wanted to hear.”

“The Force is supposed to tell a Master who it wills to be their Padawan.” Obi-Wan moaned a lesson he’d heard a hundred times before.

“And what about your will?”

Obi-Wan jolted up. That was… that was the opposite of everything Obi-Wan had been taught and perilously close to what he’d been taught was the self-serving road to the Dark.

“We all make our own decisions, Obi. I can’t imagine that the Force wants us to be blind acolytes who decide nothing for ourselves. The Force has gifted you with a brilliant mind and good judgment. Why wouldn’t it want you to use them? Let it help guide you, help you hear the music, but don’t discount your own ability to choose the song you want to sing.”

That was… almost exactly how Brair said the Force worked for him. That he had common sense and the Force helped him use it, but the Force didn’t override it. It had sounded so smart when Brair said it about putting together machines. Why would it be wrong when Feemor said the same thing about putting together everything else?

“Well then,” Feemor smacked his knees and stood. “Let us go find Brair and Ruzry before they come storming up the waterfall to make sure I haven’t hurt their favorite.”

“I’m not their—”

Feemor paused, like he was ready to drop back to the grass and start up another conversation. “You could ask them?”

Obi-Wan went beet red at the very thought.

“May I make a recommendation?”

“I’m not asking them!” Obi-Wan panicked.

“Not that.” Feemor laughed. “Though, I would love it if you did. No, I recommend that you listen to the music this week.”

Obi-Wan wasn’t quite sure what that meant.

“Now that you know you hear music, listen for it as you use the Force. Pay attention to what makes you hear the music, and what songs you like the most.”

“Why?” Obi-Wan groaned but pulled himself to his feet.

“It’s good to know, and perhaps, like me, you’ll find a song you want to hear for the rest of your life. We can use that to help you find a Master who suits you, not just one who’s available.”

That was… Obi-Wan just wanted to take a nap. The thought that there might be some other Master out there for him, that he would have to keep trying… an hour ago Obi-Wan wasn’t supposed to even be in the Order and now Master Feemor had him asking how to pick a Master for himself. “And if I can’t find one?”

“Then,” Feemor took a knee before Obi-Wan and held out his hands. Without thought, Obi-Wan took them back. “Obi-Wan Kenobi, I offer you a place as my Padawan learner.” Obi-Wan froze, struck by lightning, blindsided with everything he’d ever wanted. “Although neither of us think you want to become a mind healer, I swear I will do everything in my power to help you find the knowledge you need to walk the right road, even when I do not know the way.”

Chapter Ten

“We can’t send him back to the Creche!” Brair objected again. “Whatever in the hell is going on there is hurting him even more than before.”

“You’re right. We can’t send him back, but we can’t just leave him in your hangar, either.” Ruzry said.

“Why not?”

“Beyond it not being good for his mental health, the Council has gathered enough information to know that the Grand Council has been called about the Initiates.” Feemor said, riffling through Master Tyvokka’s cupboards like he belonged there.

He and Feemor had hiked down from the waterfall and found Ruzry snapping through her comm like it was an uncooperative witness and Brair pacing like he was three seconds away from diving into the water and swimming up the waterfall to fetch them. (Feemor had given Obi-Wan a look that dared him to ask if he really wasn’t their favorite. Obi-Wan had been content with hugs.) They’d bundled him off to Master Tyvokka’s chambers, where Master Sinube was drinking brakish tea and Master Tyvokka had an empty sheath of cookies .

(The old Master had stroked a furred paw through Obi-Wan’s hair and handed him one of the flaky, bark-like cookies that paired well with a glass of chocolate milk.)

“How do you know they know?” Ruzry asked

“Master Dapatian has been having lunch with Bruck Chun, an Initiate in Obi-Wan’s age group.” There was dead silence as the adults shared a look like Master Dapatian had done something wrong. (Which was a little gratifying.).

Master Tyvokka rumbled, sad and low. <<He’s just going to make the problem worse and break that boy’s heart when he finds out he was nothing but a tool.>>

A tool for what? Bruck may be a bully, but if Master Dapatian was using Bruck for something, someone should tell him so. (Not Obi-Wan. Bruck wouldn’t listen to him. But Obi-Wan wouldn’t wish that kind of disappointment on anyone.)

“Dapatian aside, it’s proof that they’re snooping. Anything we do with Obi-Wan will be suspicious. Especially with Yoda involved.” Ruzry said.

“Why–” Obi-Wan tried to ask, but Feemor shook his head and the adult’s argument moved on.

But the adults couldn’t decide what to do with him, and Feemor kept adding new details that made the whole thing worse, and Master Tyvokka was ignoring them all to run his fingers along that same invisible edge like he had in the High Council chamber. But whatever he’d found there that made him speak, he hadn’t found it here yet.

Master Sinube was the only one who seemed unperturbed, happily going through the dozen steps to steep another mug of his putrid tea. Obi-Wan watched the slow trickle of steaming water be poured from the kettle to his mug, the old master keeping a careful eye on the level. Then he left it on the counter to steep and turned to find himself the object of Obi-Wan’s gaze.

Obi-Wan flushed, but Master Sinube seemed to know Obi-Wan had been looking. Sinube tilted his head, and Obi-Wan felt the slick slice of connection form between them as Master Sinube invited Obi-Wan into his mental space without a joint meditation. Passing through Master’s Sinube’s shields wasn’t like stepping through a door into Feemor. It was like peeking through a needle-fine hole that had been carved with a stiletto blade.

But beyond that pinprick was a slow and steady song. Relentless like it… had things to do? The music didn’t make sense, but the sound of it made Obi-Wan happier than he’d been since all of this started. The melody was unpredictable, despite its steady drum beat. And Obi-Wan would never call it fast, but it wasn’t slow either. It was too erratic for that.

Did it– was this… Obi-Wan furrowed in question and gestured between himself and Sinube, who shook his head no, but gave Obi-Wan a small smile like he knew something Obi-Wan didn’t.

Master Sinube mouthed the words, “You could be Tyvokka’s aide?” and shifted his posture in a silent mimic of the question he’d asked days ago. In the lull between Ruzry’s lecture on information gathering and Master Yoda’s arrival, Master Sinube had given Obi-Wan one final chance not to go back to the Creche. But back then, the thought of following Master Tyvokka around just to organize his padds felt like Obi-Wan was giving up on his life. Felt like choosing the easy path instead of the risky one that might earn him a Master.

But today… no one knew what to do with him.

So, Obi-Wan breathed deep and tried to think about being Master Tyvokka’s aide. The Wookie’s black eyes had faded to the grey of storm clouds that Obi-Wan only saw when he went on field trips to other planets without weather satellites. And he didn’t get the same sense of music as he got when Feemor or Sinube welcomed Obi-Wan behind their shields. It was just an extra bit of looking, of longing, as he watched Master Tyvokka trace his fingers over the knife’s edge—

No, Obi-Wan could hear something every time Tyvokka stroked, like the Wookie was running his hand over strings in the Force to see how they hummed.

Obi-Wan didn’t know what it meant to be an aide or what that required of him, but he could think of the possibility without feeling like a failure. He could think of the chance to follow Master Tyvokka through the world and stand by his side to help.

There.

That was the music of Tyvokka. Not a melody, not even the rhythm Obi-Wan had gotten from Master Sinube. Apart as they were, it was nothing but the echo of distant drums.

“Oh.” Obi-Wan said without thinking.

“Obi?” He opened eyes that had drifted closed and found all the adults looking at him. “I think I should—”

Feemor cleared his throat then raised his eyebrow like a dare.

Obi-Wan opened his mouth, then had to stop and steel himself because it was harder to say than he thought it would be. “I want to be Master Tyvokka’s aide.”

Everyone but Master Sinube startled. They clearly didn’t have that on the list of places to tuck him away. “Master Sinube said that would be a good place for me?” Master Tyvokka gave Master Sinube the same look he gave Ruzry when he thought she was saying something ridiculous, usually about what to do with Obi-Wan. “I would be more useful there than I would be at the hangar, but I’d be safe from all the things you were worrying about.”

Feemor furrowed when Obi-Wan said ‘useful,’ like they were going to have to have another conversation about that Bu, Ruzry cut him off with, “I think that’s perfect,” and vicious pleasure.

Before Ruzry got too far away, Obi-Wan had to confess, “I don’t know how to be an aide though.”

“I can teach you.” Ruzry waived away his concerns like learning it all would be the matter of an afternoon.

<<This will put him more in the path of people snooping.>> Master Tyvokka pointed out.

“It’s only for a few days until Saa arrives, so there’s not that much they can do.” Ruzry rolled her eyes. “And wouldn’t it be nice to be able to get something done without getting interrogated? You can just throw Obi-Wan’s big eyes at them and they’ll go away.”

Master Tyvokka looked at Obi-Wan long and slow, and Obi-Wan tried to keep his spine straight like that little blue flower. The great master just hummed, deeper than any Human could manage. (Master Sinube looked pleased.)

Ruzry tossed one of the pillows on the floor before Obi-Wan. He rather enjoyed the motley assortment of furniture in Master Tyvokka’s room and had chosen a pillow so large and soft that he was tempted to curl up like a Tooka and sleep the afternoon away instead of deal with his problems. Though, when Ruzry dropped down, he rather wished he had a chair to feel more professional.

Ruzry popped off her face mask to show Obi-Wan how serious she was. She even left the holoprojector off so Obi-Wan could see the vibrant red-brown of her skin. “Let’s be clear. Your job for the next few days is a hybrid of regular aide and wall.”

“Okay?”

“Tell me, who is your best friend in the Creche?”

“Quin.”

“Quinlan Vos?” She asked, pleasantly surprised.

“Yes.”

“Tell me about him.”

She must’ve known if she recognized his name, but Ruzry liked to ask questions when she was looking for something particular. “Quin is a Kiffar, and a psychometric touch-telepath. He’s brilliant, and friendly, and he can talk to people about anything. He’s a few years older than me, and he didn’t spend much time in the Creche since Master Tholme took him as a Padawan so young. And…” Obi-Wan trailed off and Feemor knelt on the hard floor next to Ruzry’s pillow, radiating that open face and open Force presence.

“He’s the only one who hasn’t changed yet.”

“Do you think he will?”

“I didn’t think any of them would.”

Feemor put a hand on Ruzry to stop her from asking. It was strange. Ruzry was usually the one who had to stop Brair and Obi-Wan hadn’t thought there was anyone who could stop her. But still, they both waited for Obi-Wan to answer Feemor’s question for real.

Obi-Wan didn’t answer on instinct. He let the thought percolate the way Feemor would’ve wanted him to. (And he didn’t have to have Quinlan here to think of the way the Force sounded in around him: high, and bright, and playful, wild rhythm that Obi-Wan found easily predictable and no one else did.) “No. I think if anyone would understand, it would be Quin.”

“A good friend indeed.” Feemor smiled. “And perhaps when all of this is settled you can talk to your old friends again and they might understand you better.”

Obi-Wan let that thought sit too. “I’d like that.”

Ruzry glanced between them, but Feemor rocked back on his heels and rose, leaving them to their conversation. “So, for the next few days, your most important job is to pretend that Tyvokka is your new best friend.”

Obi-Wan laughed at the thought of helping Master Tyvokka pull pranks and not get caught like he did with Quin. Ruzry grinned back, like she knew where Obi-Wan’s mind had gone. “Let’s imagine that Quin has a secret he doesn’t want to tell anyone. What would you do to help him keep it?”

“It depends on the secret. And on who he’s keeping it from.”

“Let’s say he’s keeping it from the rest of your friends.”

That was easy. “I’d guilt Bant when she asked so she wouldn’t do it again. I’d distract Reeft with food. Garen, you just point out that he wouldn’t like it if we were trying to pry a secret out of him. Other people, Quin can distract himself with a prank or a joke. And people like Bruck, just rolling my eyes seems to set him off. He’d yell at me instead of going after Quin. Or… he would’ve before.” Obi-Wan looked to Feemor, who’d moved next to Master Sinube in the kitchen and was silently stirring tea of his own. “Maybe he’s grown.” Feemor’s grin was bright.

“Those are all excellent ways to protect Quin, and I want you to remember them. This week, Master Tyvokka is the one with the secret and your job is to get in between him and everyone who’s trying to figure out what the secret is.”

Master Tyvokka sighed. <<I miss Plo.>>

Ruzry snorted. “I can’t wait to tell Plo that he’s still got you tricked into thinking he’s the good one.”

“Plo Koon.” Feemor said from the kitchenette. “Kel Dor Master, Tyvokka’s last Padawan.”

“Thus far.” Ruzry added and Master Tyvokka growled.

<<Last ever.>>

Ruzry leaned towards Obi-Wan with a smirk. “Tyvokka has chosen to believe that he’s old.”

<<I’m 317.>>

“That’s at least 80 more good years.” Ruzry countered.

“A whole lifetime for near-humans like us.” Brair added from where he’d flopped on the couch, happy to watch the whole thing in silence now that Obi-Wan wasn’t going to the Creche.

‘You could ask,’ Feemor’s voice bubbled up in the back of Obi-Wan’s mind. But thinking about asking Brair and Ruzry why they wouldn’t take Obi-Wan as a Padawan after Master Feemor had already guessed why was an entirely different matter than asking Ruzry if she was trying to convince Master Tyvokka to take him instead. Obi-Wan’s heart and hope couldn’t take the thought. Master Tyvokka didn’t need to be old and he didn’t need to be on the Council, he just needed to be Master Tyvokka and that was reason enough not to want Obi-Wan. No one needed to make Tyvokka say the it out loud for Obi-Wan to understand.

“What’s the secret?” Obi-Wan interrupted another adult staring match and they all turned back to him with blinks. “Or, if you don’t want to tell me the secret, can you tell me what the secret is about so I know what I shouldn’t be distracting people with?”

“That’s the trick.” Feemor said. “He doesn’t have a secret.”

“But…” Obi-Wan just waved his hand to try and encompass all this nonsense and the Grand Council itself.

“Tyvokka doesn’t know any more about what’s happening than the rest of them.” Ruzry said.

“But he called for the Grand Council.”

<<Master T’ra Saa has been elected to lead the Grand Council.>> Tyvokka said.

“Master Saa the Neti?”

Obi-Wan didn’t know Wookies could raise an eyebrow. Obi-Wan wondered if that was where Feemor learned it. <<Yes.>>

Obi-Wan grinned in excitement.

<<You are familiar with her work?>>

“Loosely. More familiar with her… exploits?”

Master Tyvokka barked out a laugh. <<Ah, your Quinlan is Tholme’s Padawan.>>

“Yes?” How did Master Tyvokka know Master Tholme?

“Tholme was the Padawan before Plo.” Feemor said as he took his tea and dropped to the sofa beside Brair.

“Really?”

“Tholme is a species of particularly long-lived near-Human.”

“Quin hasn’t told me that.”

“You’ll have to see if he knows.” Feemor tilted his mug towards Master Tyvokka and Obi-Wan tipped his head in apology to the Wookie while they got back on track.

Master Sinube explained. “T’ra was elected to lead the Grand Council, accepted, and within the hour sent out mass messages to the different sub-councils and Corps and all their sub-categories asking for them to name their representatives to the Grand Council. She warned that she would be in Hyperspace for five days immediately following the transmission of the message. She would leave it up to them to determine how they would like to go about nominating and choosing their individuals, but by the time she arrived on Coruscant she wanted their lists of representatives.”

“And they think Master Tyvokka knows… what?”

Master Tyvokka shrugged. <<Anything. I can assume what T’ra is doing with her five days outside of contact in hyperspace, but they can assume that just as well.>>

“So, you don’t know anything more than they do, but they think you do.”

<<Just so.>>

“But can’t you just say you don’t know?”

“How would that work in the Creche?” Ruzry pointed out.

“Ah.” He understood. They’d think Quin was lying and hunt him down for more information.

“So, officially, you’ll be Tyvokka’s aid. Which means you might run padds, or deliver things, or handle his schedule, or pull up information, but your real purpose is to make it difficult for people to ask him questions.”

Obi-Wan mulled on that and wriggled into a more comfortable position. “If people kept asking Quin for something he didn’t know, he’d tell something different to everyone who asked. Then they’d think they all knew, and they’d lord it over one another and get into fights about who really knew what. That would eat up days before someone figured out they were all wrong, then they’d come back to Quin and demand to know the truth. And Quin would say, ‘I gave you the truth and you didn’t listen.’ And they’d all go away.”

The adults met that with more silence than Obi-Wan had been expecting.

<<It’s always nice to know that Younglings are on the correct career path.>> Tyvokka rumbled.

“He means that Quinlan is training to be a Shadow.” Ruzry murmured.

“That I do know.” Tyvokka gave him a little grin.

<<As much as I would enjoy that, the Council Members wouldn’t spend a few days lording their information over one another. They’d share it, and within one meeting they’d know I’d lied to them all.”

An unfortunate side effect of adulthood. “Well, I can do that then.”

“I knew you could.” Ruzry’s grin would’ve done Quinlan proud.

@@@@@

The ‘tea’ in Master Tyvokka’s rooms had run so late that after it ended, Obi-Wan was sent back to Brair’s hangar and told to sleep there for the night and meet Master Tyvokka in the morning at the single Great Wroshyr tree in the Room of a Thousand Fountains. That was where Master Tyvokka preferred to do his morning meditation when he didn’t want to be interrupted.

In all the fuss, Obi-Wan had forgotten that MO hadn’t been to the Creche to see him. At least, Obi-Wan forgot until he stepped into the hangar and MO rolled in the opposite direction.

‘Just ask,’ Feemor had said, so Obi-Wan tried. “MO?”

MO rolled faster.

MO had just rolled faster?

“Hey!” A few hours ago, Obi-Wan would’ve let the droid go on the assumption that Obi-Wan had read everything wrong about their friendship, but not now. This was MO, who’d met Obi-Wan at the worst moment of his life and decided to name him and keep him. MO had said so, and droids couldn’t lie

“Hey!” Obi-Wan chased after the droid who was frantically rolling towards the back of the hangar like Obi-Wan didn’t have the Force to speed him up.

“MO!” Obi-Wan shouted, nearly on top of him. With a snap, MO locked his head to his shoulders and yanked up on his wheel, collapsing into a box like he’d gone into hibernation.

Obi-Wan skidded to a stop to keep from crashing. “MO?” Obi-Wan dropped to his knees and traced shaking fingers over the top of MO’s head. “What’s wrong? What happened?”

MO extended his wheel just enough to lurch away from Obi-Wan’s touch. Obi-Wan dropped to his bottom. “MO?” His voice broke. “MO.”

They sat there in silence long enough that Obi-Wan believed MO really had thrown himself into hibernation rather than talk to Obi-Wan. One of the mouse droids bumped into Obi-Wan with a greased-tinged rag in its claw. “What’s this?”

<<OB-1 is leaking.>>

“Oh.” He was crying. He hadn’t realized. “OB-1 is sad.”

<<OB-1 left without saying goodbye.>> MO beeped, safe from the confines of his box.

Yes, he—oh, he hadn’t. “Oh, MO. I’m so sorry.” The little droid didn’t move at all, but one eye flared to three pixels, like he was peering at Obi-Wan through partially-closed eyes. “I am. I was so caught up that I didn’t think about goodbyes. I didn’t think we’d need them.”

<<Explain.>> MO buzzed.

“I thought you’d come see me. And I’d come see you. And then…” Obi-Wan shrugged. He hadn’t thought it through. But he certainly hadn’t thought he’d need to say goodbye to MO. He couldn’t fathom it.

Both eyes narrowed in a single strip of lights. <<Truth?>>

“On my honor as an honorary droid.” Obi-Wan smiled and held out his hand. With a quick nod, MO dropped his handlebar into Obi-Wan’s palm and pumped it up and down like a handshake, then he was off, fritzing at OB-1 to follow him, they had things to do!

Thus had gone Obi-Wan’s night until Brair told them both to go to bed before he separated the two of them. And now they were here, under the Wroshyr tree in the Room of a Thousand Fountains because neither one of them was willing to be parted today. Inviting MO to help Obi-Wan with his new research project seemed like the best sort of promise that Obi-Wan wouldn’t disappear again.

Though, explaining to MO that Feemor had told Obi-Wan to figure out what made the Force sing had been… difficult.

“Do you think I should start by testing the things I already know make the Force sing, or should I start with the things I don’t know about?”

<<Things OB-1 likes. List will be indefinitely expanding if OB-1 tests all possible options first.>>

“Good point.”

Before Trion had cut power to Obi-Wan’s padd to force him to go to bed, Obi-Wan and MO had compiled a list of all the things Obi-Wan thought he liked to do and the things he’d been marked as good at doing. (Feemor would probably say that Obi-Wan’s liking of them was more important than the things marked as special skills that he should develop, but if Obi-Wan was good at them, he meant he should like them, right? MO had beeped that Obi-Wan had a faulty logic circuit, but Obi-Wan added them anyway.)

The plan was to do as Master Feemor had asked him and try everything out with the goal to see what songs they sang in the Force. Then, to see if anything made a song that Obi-Wan felt like singing for the rest of his life.

The first test had been research, which Obi-Wan had spent trying to figure out the specifics of what a High Councilor’s aid was supposed to do. Trion had cut the power before Obi-Wan had completed the project and… well, before Obi-Wan had remembered to pay attention to what the Force sounded like while he researched. He’d tried to bargain with Trion, but the probability droid had just cut power to the entire room and Brair had walked in with threats of separation.

(Then he’d explained to MO that Organic Younglings needed nine hours in stasis a night to complete their defrag or their systems would start to malfunction, and MO had threatened to lock Obi-Wan in. Then they’d argued about how many hours a pubescent near-Human needed, and Brair had threatened to call Feemor. Obi-Wan didn’t know why that had been effective, but it was.)

“I want to try research again, just because I don’t like leaving that undone.”

<<We are in the Room of a Thousand Fountains to meditate. OB-1 should begin with meditation.>>

“But if I meditate then someone can get past me and get to Master Tyvokka. We’re not supposed to let that…” Obi-Wan went to flip screens on the outdated padd only to have it freeze again. Obi-Wan sighed. MO popped out his electroprod. “It’s not the padd’s fault.”

<<It should know better anyway.>> MO grumbled.

<<What are you two working on so diligently?>> Master Tyvokka’s deep voice snuck up on them.

“Uh—” Obi-Wan couldn’t think of an explanation fast enough for MO.

<<OB-1 is running systems analysis.>>

And there went a furry eyebrow. Obi-Wan scrambled to his feet and briefly explained his conversation with Feemor yesterday – with none of the soul-baring parts – and Feemor’s suggestion that Obi-Wan try different activities to discover what the Force’s song sounded like with each of them.

Master Tyvokka gave an interested rumble and asked a follow-up question. Which Obi-Wan answered, then another, and another, and by the time Obi-Wan came back to himself, he’d rambled everything he and Feemor had talked about, explained how he and MO had put together a spreadsheet of details, and their current struggle to decide what Obi-Wan should work on first because he wanted to be a good aide and not leave Master Tyvokka exposed. Obi-Wan blinked and looked down at his lapful of crumbs, because, as he’d nodded along, Master Tyvokka had pulled out several rolls of nutty bread, fruit, vegetables, strips of dried meat, and chocolate milk that had the green tinge that came with food that had been mixed with a nutrient powder. They’d basically had breakfast while Obi-Wan stuffed in bites in between rambled sentences.

“Oh.” Obi-Wan blinked back to himself and tried to remember everything that had spilled out of his mouth. “I’m sorry.”

<<For what?>>

“I… you wanted to meditate this morning.”

Master Tyvokka let out a quiet rumble. <<I knew an archaeologist at the Jedha Temple in my younger years. She specialized in xenolinguistics and what nuances our study of the Force has lost because we translate them all into Basic instead of Dai Bendu or one of the other native languages of Force users.>>

Obi-Wan had no idea how they’d gotten here, but it was fascinating. “Really?”

<<Hmm-hmm.>> He rumbled, a longer sound than a Human would make. <<The word we translate into ‘meditation’ began as kewan in Dai Bendu, which can be translated to meditation, but also to reflect, sing, center, pray, and commune. I like that last one best.>>

Obi-Wan gave it a long thought. “So, I didn’t keep you from meditating. I kept you from communing with the Force?”

<<I would say that I communed with you, one of my fellow children of the Force.>>

“But that’s not the same thing.”

<<No. And sometimes we need a morning of quiet contemplation to be one with the Force. And other times we need a morning of conversation to feel a little better about the universe.>>

Obi-Wan blushed bright pink, because that was maybe the best compliment anyone had ever given him.

<<Now, Obi-Wan thank you for sharing with me, but I have one very important question left for you.>>

Obi-Wan steeled himself. “Anything, Master Tyvokka.”

<<What’s wrong with your padd?>>

Obi-Wan barked out a laugh and MO ranted about the failure of technology that should know better. Obi-Wan stroked a hand over the angry little droid and he calmed with a hissed fizzle.

“I didn’t have a personal padd when I… left. Trion gave me one of his spares. It’s—”

MO curse-beeped something Obi-Wan couldn’t repeat.

“That.”

<<I’m afraid I don’t have any spare personal padds. But I do have,” Master Tyvokka reached into the satchel he carried with him everywhere and pulled out a notebook. It was made of flimsi bound in some kind of not-fabric, palm-sized for the Wookie but nearly a lightsaber thick. <<I prefer to do my work in hard copy and I miss it dearly. Perhaps this might help your research.>> And Master Tyvokka held the notebook out to Obi-Wan.

Obi-Wan checked to be sure he wasn’t reading the Master’s expression wrong, and the Wookie just nodded. Obi-Wan reached out, but Master Tyvokka held the book in place. <<On one condition.>>

“Anything, sir.” And Obi-Wan would’ve.

<<Call me Tyvokka. No honorifics.>>

Obi-Wan grinned. “I can do that, si—Tyvokka.”

The Wookie nodded and let the book go. The notebook was dark brown leather, with a scent to it that Obi-Wan had only gotten from the truly old books in the library, the ones that he had to have special permission to check out. With shaking hands, Obi-Wan thumbed over the rough-cut pages then gently bent the book open to smell.

It wasn’t flimsi. It was paper. Obi-Wan had never held a paper book with his bare hands before. It was like magic. He wanted to cry.

“Master Tyvokka, it’s…” Obi-Wan looked up, tears welling in his eyes.

<<I thought you would like it.>> Tyvokka ran a paw over Obi-Wan’s head.

“I can’t.”

<<Why not?>>

“Look at it.” Obi-Wan held it out, like Tyvokka hadn’t seen it already. “It should be for something special.”

The great Master leaned down to look him in the eye. <<You are learning to hear the Force sing, Obi-Wan. Can there be anything more special than that?>>

Obi-Wan cradled the book to his chest. “Thank you.”

<<You’re welcome, cub.>>

Chapter Eleven

Obi-Wan hoisted himself up and over the top of the climbing wall and collapsed on his back as he tried to catch his breath. It was quiet up here on top of the obstacle course, quiet enough that Obi-Wan could revel in how he’d gotten here.

The first day of being Tyvokka’s aide hadn’t been bad. Mostly because anyone who approached Tyvokka to speak with him for anything less than completely official purposes had looked at Obi-Wan like they didn’t understand what was going on and fled because they needed to regroup. Tyvokka had suggested Obi-Wan seize the chance to work through as many activities as they could while they had the luxury of people avoiding them.

MO suggested Obi-Wan start with his favorites. Obi-Wan thought he should compile everything that might go on the list to make sure he had all his options. Tyvokka suggested that they start with the thing Obi-Wan was most afraid of so the fear wouldn’t hang over him. Neither he nor MO could argue with that, so away to the greenhouses they went.

While Obi-Wan tended to plants the music of the Force was bright, and… well, earthy for lack of a better term. It was fine for the first few minutes but then started to grate on Obi-Wan nerves and he couldn’t keep the music playing.

For all they were green and growing things, the best way Obi-Wan could describe the feeling of the plants’ music was like trying to make the old padd work when it had been turned on for two days and the battery was at 10%. Obi-Wan knew he could do it, but everything about it was a struggle that made Obi-Wan want to throw the padd across the room and cry. (Tyvokka had just blinked at him for so long enough that Obi-Wan had worried he’d been too honest. But the old Master had just asked Obi-Wan how he felt about books, and that was that.)

They’d gone to the library next. Tyvokka had asked Obi-Wan about his favorite fiction, but Obi-Wan had been more concerned about researching how to actually be an aide. Tyvokka had led him to a side room that didn’t so much have a door as a sliding wall panel that Obi-Wan had never seen before. Tucked away in the room were three Knights whose job it was to coordinate everything for Master Nu so people didn’t get in the way of her work. Tyvokka explained Obi-Wan’s purpose and the Knights invited Obi-Wan, Tyvokka, and MO to join them on their lunch break – mornings started very early when one worked for Master Nu.

“You don’t have to stay, if you don’t want, Master.” Obi-Wan pointed out. He’d been struggling all morning with interrupting Tyvokka’s work day while he experimented and played catchup on what an aide already ought to know.

<<I like tea.>>

Based on Obi-Wan’s limited experience of the Wookie, that wasn’t true at all. He furrowed in disbelief and Tyvokka leaned in to murmur, <<It is difficult for people to ask me questions if they cannot find me.>> And, well, tucked away in a corner of the library Obi-Wan had never heard of before was probably an excellent hiding place. Obi-Wan pulled out his old padd – then MO overrode the screen so Obi-Wan could see him keeping notes for the both of them – and the aides happily entertained Obi-Wan’s thousand questions.

At some point, Master Nu had stopped by to ask where her aides were and why there was an Initiate in the back rooms. Tyvokka had taken a pointed slurp of his probably cold tea and hadn’t looked up from his own padd as he rumbled, <<Obi-Wan is examining his options.>>

“Options for what?”

<<He was assigned to the Agricorps but couldn’t depart before the Grand Council was called. Now he’s just…>> Tyvokka looked up from his padd and said slow, with a weight Obi-Wan didn’t quite understand, <<examining his options.>>

Master Nu looked at Tyvokka like he’d been reading one of her pristine paper books with mud on his paws. “Obi-Wan Kenobi was assigned to Agricorps.”

<<Yes.>>

Master Nu stormed off, hissing something in a language Obi-Wan didn’t know, but one of the aides blanched, so he could guess. “Tyvokka?” He asked.

<<You were asking them about scheduling.>> The Wookie prodded. Obi-Wan had not been looking for a reminder, but the aides moved along like Obi-Wan had and there was no backtracking after that. (Obi-Wan did wander away from Tyvokka to look in on Master Nu, and she seemed very involved in whatever holocall she was on, so that was something.)

Atop the climbing wall, Obi-Wan felt his muscles start to relax in the way that meant they were moving from ‘break between exercises’ to ‘done for the day,’ so he rolled over and got back to his feet. He could take one of the climbing ropes that trailed down the back of the wall or he could jump to the netting below and crawl his way to the balance pillars. He jumped. Jumping was always more fun.

Day two as Tyvokka’s aide proved to be enough time for people to adjust to Obi-Wan’s presence. Master Poof had come right up to Tyvokka at the base of his favorite tree and settled into a meditation posture across from him. (Obi-Wan couldn’t do anything because Tyvokka had hoisted him up the two meters to the lowest branch with words about tree climbing being an important skill for every developing cub. Obi-Wan had rather enjoyed the branch and stayed up there to jot down leftover thoughts from all of yesterday’s experiments.)

With a wave of his sinuous neck, Master Poof had settled in and asked Tyvokka about stunted plants and tending to gardens that should be pulled up by the root.

Obi-Wan spent three seconds thinking they were actually talking about plants, but then Tyvokka sighed.<<It is a pity so many of us have gotten so old that we’ve forgotten the difference between stunted plants and seedlings in early spring.>>

For all that Obi-Wan didn’t completely understand their metaphor, he wasn’t an idiot. He knew they were talking about him. (Maybe. When they started talking about nutrients and watering, he thought that might’ve been about all the Initiates, and sunshine was the Order itself? Maybe?) They’d gone on like that for a few more minutes – long enough that Obi-Wan had to shake his head ‘no’ at MO to keep him from pulling out the electroprod. Then Master Poof nodded and roamed away, satisfied with whatever Tyvokka had actually been saying.

Obi-Wan slipped down from his perch and joined Tyvokka on the grass, not quite sure what had happened and not sure what he ought to do now that it was done. Tyvokka was to be his Quinlan for the week, so Obi-Wan summoned up his courage and leaned into Tyvokka’s side. Like Quin, Tyvokka looped his arm around Obi-Wan’s shoulders, though it was more like being wrapped in a furry, weighted blanket than an arm.

Obi-Wan might not have understood the nuance of their conversation, but he caught the gist. And the comforting warmth of Tyvokka’s fur was enough to make him ask, “Did you mean it?”

<<Ah, good, a chance to be blunt. Master Poof is quite intelligent, but he never hears things unless in metaphor. And yes, Obi-Wan, I meant it. There is no Dark in you.>>

That… that wasn’t what Obi-Wan had thought they were talking about at all.

Tyvokka tugged him in closer and rumbled so deep that Obi-Wan felt l the vibration in his chest. <<Obi-Wan Kenobi. Even if you were to Fall, I do not believe you have the stomach for Darkness.>>

Obi-Wan couldn’t make himself point out that Master Jinn had seen it. That Yoda had seen it, then un-seen it enough to let him stay. Maybe Tyvokka was wrong? But he was the Master of Shadows and could he, of all people, be wrong about Darkness? “Aren’t Darkness and Falling the same thing?”

Tyvokka had run a furred paw over Obi-Wan’s head and down his back. <<Let us go research.>>

Most of day two was spent in the special archives that existed in the Shadow potion of the Temple – which was another thing Obi-Wan hadn’t known existed, and seemed like a bigger gap in his knowledge than not knowing about the librarian’s special tea room. Tyvokka had gotten plenty of work done while Obi-Wan chatted with Shadows and holocrons who specialized in the distinction between Light and Dark, between Fallen and Not. (MO had opinions about holocrons, like they were droids who thought they were too good for their chassis. Obi-Wan left explaining the difference to a Chandrillian Shadow that some of the others abandoned to the task. ) Obi-Wan would’ve happily spent the next month in that library reading everything about Revan and how he’d gone back and forth from Light to Dark half a dozen times in his life. (Obi-Wan still didn’t quite grasp the difference between Dark and Fallen, but everyone seemed to agree there was one, and that was enough for now.)

In the obstacle room, Obi-Wan hopped along the balance pillars, sticking with the solid posts instead of the ones that flexed under a person’s weight and brought a little bounce. Balance wasn’t Obi-Wan’s forte this particular afternoon after how he’d spent the morning.

Today was day four – day three had been actual work that Tyvokka could put off no longer – and he and Tyvokka had spent the morning of day four sparring. Which made the Force sound like drums that pounded in perfect time with Obi-Wan’s steps, like he was dancing, but not. Master Drallig didn’t ask the same thing as Master Nu, but he did roam into the salle where Tyvokka had been throwing out eavesdroppers with nothing more than a pointed look.

Those that pretended not to see Tyvokka’s look, Obi-Wan stopped in the middle of his kata and asked, “Can I help you?” like he was an Initiate younger than he was and didn’t know better.

Those who said, “No,” Obi-Wan puckered his nose and stared at them with his best, ‘what are you doing here then?’ The awkward silence chased them out of the room.

Those who ignored the question and asked what they were doing, Obi-Wan replied, “Master Tyvokka is helping me with a project right now.” Obi-Wan was fairly certain Tyvokka followed that with some more pointed looks because the statement shouldn’t have been enough to make them leave, but they went nonetheless. Obi-Wan wasn’t going to complain about the backup.

Eventually, Master Drallig roamed and raised an eyebrow even bushier than Master Tyvokka’s. He didn’t storm off like Master Nu when Master Tyvokka said Obi-Wan was scheduled for Agricorps, but he did breathe deep like he only did when he was about to spar against another Battlemaster. Then he sat down with Tyvokka for a ‘talk’ that was mostly gestures and more expressions than Obi had ever seen on either one of their faces.

Master Drallig left with a statement that he’d schedule the obstacle course for after lunch. Master Tyvokka rumbled out an objection – Obi-Wan didn’t know why – and Master Drallig had just stared at him. Obi-Wan didn’t know you could roll your eyes without actually moving your face, but it was a skill Master Drallig should teach Ruzry. It seemed like the kind of thing she’d like to know how to do.

And now Obi-Wan was there, stumbling from pillar to pillar, arms swinging to catch his balance as the balls dangling from ropes swung between the pillars to knock him out of the air. Obi-Wan mistimed the last jump to a steady platform and a ball caught him in the shoulder, shoving him around so he landed belly first instead of on his feet.

<<Perhaps your balance would improve if your mind was on the moment?>> Tyvokka called up from below, where he had been following Obi-Wan through the room, ready to catch him if he fell.

Tyvokka was right. Obi-Wan’s thoughts had been on the last few days, not on the obstacle course he was running. “Well, in this moment, I’m bruised,” Obi-Wan called down, and Tyvokka chuffed.

“Well look at the two of you.” Ruzry interrupted from the doorway. “This seems familiar.” Obi-Wan stuck his head over the edge of the pillar, brow furrowed in a ‘why’? But the question withered when he caught sight of Tyvokka, who had tightened up like he did the one time they came across Master Dooku in the halls.

Unlike the conversation with Master Poof, Obi-Wan knew what Ruzry was implying. It was what she’d been implying all week: Obi-Wan should be Tyvokka’s apprentice. The impossibility of it had hurt Obi-Wan the first few times it was mentioned, but now he was getting tired.

Master Tyvokka didn’t want a Padawan, and Feemor had been right about that. Tyvokka deserved better than having a Padawan forced on him. They were just spending time together with Obi-Wan as his aide. Tyvokka was good enough to teach Obi-Wan all sorts of things that might help him get a Master when the Council was done.

And not just about obstacle courses and secret libraries, but Tyvokka had explained what he was doing when Obi-Wan saw his running fingers through the air. Tyvokka wasn’t tracing an edge, he was following the strands of the future, sensing what the Force felt like down the paths where those strings went. Tyvokka was a kind of Seer who could intuit where possibilities led. Not in specifics, but he could tell the shape and feeling of the future that laid down that choice.

That knowledge of the Force meant that Tyvokka had been a Force-sent gift at teaching Obi-Wan how to sort through all his possibilities and listen to the Force’s music. Obi-Wan was in a whole galaxy’s better position to understand himself than he was a few days ago, which meant he was in a much better position to find a Master that he could pair well with, which was what Feemor had recommended in the first place.

(And to be practical, roaming around the Temple with Tyvokka at his side meant Obi-Wan had met a dozen Knights and Masters he’d never met before, and they all thought well of them because he was with Tyvokka.)

Whatever Ruzry thought they should be, the drums Obi-Wan could hear between he and Tyvokka – and sometimes the strand of a strong and haunting melody –, was the Force telling him that Tyvokka would help him find his way to someone else, not what Ruzry liked to imply.

But still, imply she did. “The last time I saw you in here it was with Plo back when he was small and gangly, right after that first growth spurt.”

Ruzry shouldn’t be poking. Obi-Wan popped up on the platform and asked, “Can I help you?” in the same, small, hapless Initiate voice he’d used on everyone else.

Ruzry bit back a smile. She knew what he was doing, having eavesdropped on them several times over the last few days.

“Yes, you can.” Which was answer no one else had given.

“Very well. Please comm me with your available times and I’ll schedule something for tomorrow. Master Tyvokka is helping me with a project right now.”

Ruzry cackled. “Does that really work?”

“Thus far.” Obi-Wan shrugged. He’d quickly learned that if he said something to these adults like it was fact, it usually became so.

Ruzry laughed again, then got back on target, no more prodding. “T’ra’s ship registered with the buoys on the Outer Core half an hour ago. Depending on traffic, she should land at the Temple in an hour or two.”

Tyvokka gestured Obi-Wan down. Obi-Wan hopped back across the pillars and then down a level until he could jump straight to the padded ground without hurting himself. Though they had things to discuss, Tyvokka stayed quietly beneath Obi-Wan, spotting him while not distracting him. Obi-Wan landed in a tuck and roll, and Tyvokka congratulated him with a pleased growl and scrub to his hair.

<<And how are you at this moment? Still bruised?>> He chortled.

“Not this time.”

Obi-Wan gathered up his things and checked on MO, who’d had to be introduced to Jedi training holos so he could understand that Obi-Wan jumping around on pillars and swinging from ropes was perfectly acceptable Organic activity and MO didn’t need to be worried Obi-Wan would get broken.

<<I still don’t like it.>>

“I know.” Obi-Wan chucked him under the chin. “But I still need to learn it. Maybe we can find a time for you to watch someone else run the obstacles and see that it’s normal?”

“I believe the Senior Padawans currently in Temple have a training exercise scheduled for later in the week.” Feemor said. Both droid and boy startled.

“When did you get here?”

“A few moments ago.” Feemor glanced over his shoulder at Tyvokka and Ruzry, who were having an intense whispered conversation. Ah, Feemor had come to talk to Tyvokka about something but this wasn’t the time.

“I hear you’ve been listening rather diligently?” Feemor asked, which was much better than awkwardly waiting for Ruzry and Tyvokka to finish.

“I have!” Obi-Wan grabbed the notebook from his pack. “Tyvokka is amazing. We went to the greenhouses, and this special tea room with Master Nu’s aids, and this salle with Master Drallig, and we went to the Shadow’s library for another project, and then I met some holocrons.” Obi-Wan rambled the ups and downs of his research over the last several days as he flipped through the pages to show off his notes.

“And what has the Force sounded like?”

“The song is the strongest when I spar or do katas.” Obi-Wan showed Feemor the summary of his test results. “There’s music there, but it’s not about the melody, it’s about the pace? The rhythm?”

Feemor settled on the bench at the side of the room. “Explain it to me.”

“The part of the song that hits with my footsteps.” MO made a perfectly-timed ticking noise, which they both now knew was a metronome. “No, not that one, the one where the music hits in time with my movement.”

“Ah, the beat.”

“Beat.” Obi-Wan mouthed to himself and flipped to the back page to make a note.

“Is that where you keep track of new words?”

“No. I keep track of things I need to look up on the back page.”

“And the front is your research?”

“Yes. That way I don’t lose my questions.”

“That’s very smart.” Feemor sounded impressed.

“I’ve never taken notes in hard copy before so I asked Master Nu’s aids for tips.”

“Were they impressed with your notebook?”

“Yes.” Obi-Wan caught himself. “Well, sort of. They all thought it was pretty, but a lot of them were baffled that I would try and put research in it. ‘How do you tag things?’” Obi-Wan imitated. “‘Where is the search function?’ ‘What if you need to cross reference?’”

“What did Tyvokka say?”

“He laughed. Then told Master Nu their skills were slipping.”

Feemor smiled. “And now they’re all taking hard copy notes for the next month.”

“That’s what she threatened. ‘You can’t trust your technology will always work in the field.’ She said.”

<<Come along you two!>> Tyvokka called, having resolved whatever the problem was with Ruzry. <<We’ve got some work to do before Master Saa arrives.>>

Obi-Wan gently tucked the book into the safest pocket of his pack and helped MO to the floor. Feemor let Ruzry and Tyvokka lead off while he kept pace with Obi-Wan. “Do you like the sparring song?”

“I do, but…” Obi-Wan tugged on his pack straps. “The Force sang when I did my research projects too.”

“And what did that sound like?”

“It was quiet, a song to help me focus. But it was also helpful. Like, when I opened a document that turned out to be useful, the Force’s song got a little louder, like ‘pay attention.’ That was good music, just in an entirely different way.”

Feemor hummed. “So, you’re trying to think of a way to combine them?”

“Sort of.” Obi-Wan shrugged. “I liked the music, but there was something else about it that I liked more than just the song. It was…” Obi-Wan trailed off because he didn’t quite know the answer yet. He didn’t have the right words to describe it, or even the words to tease it out.

“Would it help you to understand if I asked you questions, or do you need to experiment some more?” Feemor asked.

“I think I need to experiment. I don’t…” Obi-Wan didn’t have those words either. He gestured like he was trying to hold onto something that kept slipping out of his fingers.

“Ah, I understand.” Feemor nodded. “I’ll check back in?”

“I’d like that.” Obi-Wan said. He gave Feemor a little shoulder bump – or rather, Obi-Wan’s shoulder to Feemor’s elbow – and they strode forward to rejoin Ruzry and Tyvokka.

“Ugh,” Ruzry snarked. “The two of you are finally done sharing your secrets. Leaving me abandoned with Tyvokka to talk about business.”

Obi-Wan snorted. “You’re the one who brought business to our training.”

“Am I?” Ruzry reached out to ruffle Obi’s hair the way Tyvokka did – and only Tyvokka was allowed to do. Obi-Wan laughed and darted around the corner and—

Master Jinn.

Standing there, tall and here, was Master Jinn.

Obi-Wan stumbled back around the corner and flatted himself against the wall, all the breath knocked out of his lungs.

<<Obi?>>

He couldn’t—he just—he couldn’t.

“Obi?” Feemor asked as Ruzry stepped around the corner, shoulders set.

“Ah, Master Ruzry.” Some voice that wasn’t Master Jinn called.

“Master Dooku. Master Jinn.” Ruzry said, deadpan but snide.

Feemor’s eyes flashed with fire and understanding. He patted Obi-Wan’s shoulder and stepped around the corner with Ruzry. Some part of Obi-Wan’s brain recognized that the silence dragged on a moment too long before Feemor said, “Master Dooku. Master Jinn,” in a more level tone than Ruzry, but all the more scolding for it.

Tyvokka gently brushed a paw over Obi-Wan’s head and nodded at him to go. Obi-Wan tried to stand up, to get his feet back under him. The twisty, terrible part of his brain said he couldn’t leave Master Jinn with Master Tyvokka. He wasn’t ready for Tyvokka to be told that Obi-Wan was terrible. What if Master Jinn told Tyvokka about all the Dark he saw in Obi-Wan and Tyvokka finally saw it too?

Obi-Wan sucked in a shake breath. Feemor swore Obi-Wan couldn’t trick the Master of Shadows. So if Tyvokka said Obi-Wan was worth spending time with, then he was. But Master Jinn must’ve known something. He knew what a Padawan who was going to Fall looked like, and he might’ve seen something Tyvokka didn’t. Might have discovered something that he could tell Tyvokka and ruin it all. Obi-Wan wasn’t ready for that.

Tyvokka pressed a steady palm to Obi-Wan’s chest and breathed slow, shallow breaths so his large lungs could match the in and out that Obi-Wan should be having. <<Go.>> Tyvokka murmured when Obi-Wan’s breath returned to normal.

“I’m supposed to be your aide. I’m supposed to be protecting you from stuff like this.”

<<I have Ruzry to protect me. Go.” Tyvokka nudged Obi-Wan on his way, and he went.

Obi-Wan tried to walk, but it became a stumble, became a sprint through the Temple, trying to outrun the fear, to shut up the buzz in his brain that said Master Jinn saw something, and what if they all saw something? What if Master Tyvokka didn’t see? What if did?

Obi-Wan didn’t come back to himself until he burst into the cool dark of Trion’s office.

The droids all sputtered at his sudden appearance.

<<OB-1?>> MO beeped frantically, almost out of breath from trying to keep pace.

“Is—is Brair here?” Obi-Wan asked Trion between gasped breaths.

Trion beeped a negative, all seven eyes widened to their fullest expansion.

<<OB-1 is leaking.>> MO trilled.

“Yeah.” Obi-Wan scrubbed his damp cheeks with his sleeves. Trion extended a claw and grasped Obi-Wan’s tunic. It tugged Obi-Wan around to the safety between its large base and the counter. Obi-Wan sank down where no one could see him and MO hopped into his lap.

MO’s processor hummed, then he said. <<We can collate data?>>

Obi-Wan snorted out a wet laugh. “MO.”

<<No, no. We collate.>> MO twisted his body around atop the wheel. <<Trion!>>

One of the holo-screens came down before Obi-Wan and showed all his information compiled into a droid-appropriate spreadsheet, already sorted into categories with weighted values determined by MO because they <shouldn’t have expected proper numbers from an organic.>

Another holo-screen came down, scrolling through a list Trion had compiled of all Masters and Knights with no Padawan, with a plus or minus variable for matching with those who had Padawans anticipated to graduate in the next year. <<A high matching coefficient might allow OB-1 to stay until they are available for partnership.>>

“You can’t just hide me in the hangar.”

MO fritzed like a snort. <<I would not have to. They would have to get past Master Tyvokka first.>>

MO had been with Obi-Wan every second of the last few days and had seen all Obi-Wan’s interactions with Tyvokka, so he was allowed to make all the insinuations he wanted. But still, Obi-Wan stroked a hand over MO’s head. “He might let me go.”

MO snorted again and played the audio of Tyvokka’s voice saying, <<There is no dark in you. Even if you were to Fall, I do not believe you have the stomach for Darkness.”

It wasn’t quite as powerful coming from MO’s speakers as it was with Tyvokka’s warm, furry bulk beside him, but it was enough. Master Tyvokka wasn’t the sort to lie about that. He was the sort to tell Obi-Wan the truth and then help him find his way back to the Light. He was…

Obi-Wan reached out to his bag and tugged the notebook free, not to look, but to run his hands over the strange feel of the leather. Tyvokka was honest. More painfully and preciously honest than anyone Obi-Wan had ever met in his life. He was, as Master Nu would say, a reliable source.

Truly, more reliable than Master Jinn. Not to say that Master Jinn might not be completely un-reliable, but Obi-Wan didn’t know him well enough for that. But he did know Tyvokka, and Tyvokka was nothing if not true.

Trion beeped and the screen flashed: data collation complete. Oh, Obi-Wan hadn’t even realized they’d started. The screen went blank and Obi-Wan waited for the files of his best matches to pop up for review.

But they didn’t.

The screen stayed blank. MO stretched up his head and beeped a ‘What’s up?’ at Trion, but the screen stayed blank.

But… Trion communicated something to MO because he stilled in Obi-Wan’s lap like the data overload was more than his system could take. MO leapt out of Obi’s arms and snapped his grappling hook to the edge of Obi-Wan’s tunic and started tugging him to his feet, a burst of binary Obi-Wan couldn’t track beyond, <<Let’s go,>> <<Things to do,>> <<Come on.>>

Obi-Wan laughed and picked the droid up with both hands so he couldn’t scamper away. “Where are we going?”

<<Come! Come!>>

“I can’t go running off to my match without you telling me first!” Obi-Wan laughed.

It wasn’t MO’s pause that told Obi-Wan there was something wrong, it was the beat of silence in Trion’s processing. It was a massive machine with a whole wall of computation space behind it, and it stilled.

“Trion?”

MO started tugging again, retracting on the grappling cord. <<Come!>>

“No. Something is wrong. What is it? What’s wrong?”

MO swiveled to look at Trion, who had seven eyes all on Obi.

Trion couldn’t sigh, but the humming got louder, then quieted again.

<<No!>> MO snapped, shaking his way out of Obi-Wan’s grip and then zipping up the desk to his port. But Trion shifted the holo-screen to Obi-Wan’s eye level and pulled open the stats.

At a 99% correlation, as close to statistically perfect as one could get, perfectly aligned in skill sets, personality testing, future plans, and general statements of competency, was Qui-Gon Jinn.

“Oh.”

MO: As I said, the variables are all Organic.

MO beeped, teetering on the edge of the desk as his words appeared across the bottom of the screen.

MO: We need to have our factorial analysis and weighted variables verified by Feemor. He understands Organics better.

MO: This is a first draft, first analysis. It needs to be reviewed and counter-checked.

MO: Obviously, something is wrong with our data points and processing statistics.

Obi-Wan reached out and brushed his hand over the image of Master Jinn’s face.

“It’s not wrong.” Obi-Wan drew in a slow breath, and with the exhale let his heart break.

The analysis of a probability droid wasn’t wrong. Everyone else was.

They all told him no, it would be fine, he was mistaken. But the math said Jinn was always supposed to be his Master. That was why Master Jinn could see what no one else could about Obi-Wan. They were meant to be together. If the Force would grant anyone the insight into how broken Obi-Wan was, it would be the man meant to be his Master.

The screen blurred before him with tears not quite shed. It changed Obi-Wan perspective and he caught the sight of his own reflection in the screen, small and scared, Tyvokka’s notebook in his hands.

He had hoped… but he shouldn’t have. It was always Jinn, and Jinn was always right.

Whatever Obi-Wan might have done, it was interrupted by his buzzing comm. He sucked in a breath and snapped it open to find a message from Ruzry saying Master Saa was due for arrival.

“I have to go.”

<<OB-1—>>

MO snapped out the grappling hook to stop him.

“No.” Obi-Wan smacked the hook away. “Master Saa is here. I have to go.”

The holo-screen zipped in front of him, blocking Obi-Wan way with a single line of text.

Trion: OB-1 is unwell.

Obi-Wan snorted back tears. “Yeah. I should’ve known better.” He murmured. Obi-Wan stuffed everything in his backpack, the notebook still in the safety of his hand, and then sped out the door before the droids could stop him.

Chapter Twelve

Obi-Wan raced to get to the starfighter hangar before Master Saa landed. But MO bumped him down a back path and up the turbolift that maintenance workers and droids took instead of the one that would be filled with people he wanted to avoid. Like the good friend he was, MO took one look at Obi-Wan and knew he wasn’t ready to talk, and the droid didn’t ask. He just led Obi-Wan through back passages all the way to the open hangar where Obi-Wan couldn’t hide anymore.

Obi-Wan stopped to collect himself, because waiting amongst the various High Council members was no Master Jinn, but still Master Dooku. Obi-Wan ducked behind a pillar, debating with himself if he could just stay here and join Tyvokka after everyone had left. MO thunked into Obi-Wan’s shins, cutting off the rising panic. Obi-Wan reached down and scooped MO up for a hug. No matter what happened, there was solace in that.

Obi-Wan braced himself, pulled up his hood, and headed over, MO trailing behind without a beep that might make anyone turn to notice them lurking at the back of the group. Obi-Wan tried to peer around to make sure Tyvokka hadn’t been cornered, but the Master was looking right at him, like he was waiting. Tyvokka gestured Obi-Wan forward.

‘No.’ Obi-Wan shook his head.

Tyvokka looked ready to come after him. Obi-Wan darted ahead because that would be less of a scene. Tyvokka swept back Obi-Wan’s hood. <<I will not ask. But I’ll be ready whenever you want to talk about whatever is bothering you.>>

“Nothing is bothering me.” Obi-Wan said on instinct.

<<Saying you’re not ready to talk is better than lying.>>

Shame bit at Obi-Wan and he nodded. “I’m sorry.”

<<I forgive you.>>

It was perfect timing because down swooped a diplomatic model, Skyspirit Courier. The ship was bigger than the starfighter Obi-Wan had expected based on the other ships in the bay. Bigger than everyone had expected based on the murmurs.

Obi-Wan glanced at Tyvokka, whose long arms hung just below Obi-Wan’s shoulders. There, Tyvokka’s fingers rippled like they were tapping along the threads of the Force.

The landing pad retracted into the tower as the ship powered down. It came to a stop before their group as the hangar walls closed, then the ramp descended and down floated Master T’ra Saa. Master Saa was a Neti, a plant-based species that lived for at least thousands of years. Master Saa herself had been with the Order for the last 600 years – though how long she’d lived before that, no one knew. She adopted Humanoid features: two large brown eyes and a single mouth with thin lips. Though her face veered closer to Brair’s aquatic features with her bridgeless nose. Her skin was dark brown with the cragged texture of tree bark, and her hair was like roots that extended from her head and all the way down to the ground.

Yoda and a few of the other High Council masters forward to welcome her with open arms. “Glad to have you home, we are, Master Saa. Though regret the occasion, we do.”

Master Saa smiled. “Thank you for the welcome, Masters.” She bowed low, and in that dramatic beat, Master Tholme and Quinlan appeared at the top of the starship’s ramp.

“And… Master Tholme?” Master Dapatian stuttered.

“Who is watching after the Kiffu Sector if Tholme is here?” Master Piell asked, his own long ears popping up in concern.

Saa blinked and Obi-Wan wondered if she’d been the one to train Ruzry, because Master Saa looked just like Ruzry did when she played dumb.

“I let Master Harrion in the Azurbani Sector next door know that he would have to be on the lookout until I came back or whatever replacement Watchman you sent finally arrived.”

“Tholme was the replacement Watchman.” Master Dapatian snapped.

“My apologies, Masters. I’m afraid I misunderstood. It seemed impossible to me that you would station a Master with his Junior Padawan as the Watchman of the sector where there is a bounty on his Padawan’s head.”

The silence was pointed. The glances exchanged between the Council members looked just like the ones Obi’s Crechemates shared after they’d had an argument about something and they’d all been declared wrong.

Master Tholme took advantage of the quiet and stepped up beside Master Saa with a padd in his hand, like Obi-Wan had done to Tyvokka a dozen times over the last few days. “The Reassignment Council’s representatives and their substitutes finished downloading as we were landing, T’ra. They’d like to meet with you as soon as you’ve got a spare hour or two to discuss parameters so they can come prepared.” He handed the padd over and Master Saa focused her attention on the list.

“The Reassignment Council finished their voting three days ago.” Master Yaddle said, the question implied.

“Master Saa sent messages out to the sub-Councils before we entered hyperspace and asked for their representatives by the time she landed on Coruscant.” Master Tholme answered. “I assumed that as part of the Librarian’s Assembly, you participated in their voting.”

“We did not so much vote as put together a variety of representatives we’d like to send based on the timeframe for beginning the Grand Council and what the topic of the Council turned out to be.” Master Yaddle explained.

“So the final message explains.” Master Saa smiled as she looked up from the padd. “I have scheduled an appointment this evening to discuss the particulars and they intend to send out confirmations tonight.”

“I was confused,” Master Piell interrupted, “as to why you did not simply call for the representatives currently sitting on each Council instead of asking for a new vote?”

“The Reassignment Council is often staffed by those who have enough time to sit on the Council, Master Piell, as I’m sure you’ve noted in your time…” Master Saa looked at the padd, though Obi-Wan suspected she didn’t need to. “Ah. I see that you’ve never sat on the Reassignment Council.”

Master Piell puffed up, but before he could counter, Master Saa pressed on.

“Reassignment Council appointments are often made more of practicality than passion, with the hope that appointees will have the common sense to call for help from someone who understands better the issues at hand if needed. Considering that, I thought it best to give them the opportunity to choose the people they would’ve been calling for help anyway and spare ourselves the messaging time.”

“The Reconciliation Council received no such notice.” Master Dapatian said.

“It was my judgment that since all five sitting members of the Reconciliation Council are currently serving on the High Council that those interests would be adequately represented. I can schedule a time later this afternoon if the Reconciliation Council would like to make an argument to the contrary.”

“May I make an argument to the contrary now?” Master Dooku said, all polite smiles. Obi-Wan slipped further behind Tyvokka, who moved his arm ever so slightly to conceal Obi-Wan with his sleeve.

“Can you make the point with no diplomatic flair?” Master Saa teased.

Master Dooku smiled, but he didn’t look like he found it funny. “I argue that the Reconciliation Council is not represented at all. It is the High Council that is represented well.”

Obi-Wan had spent enough time with Brair to know that the way Master Saa’s hair curled meant she was interested. “There is a distinction?”

Master Dooku waived at the space in between him and the Council Members. Now that Obi-Wan really looked, the space wasn’t just physical. It was in the Force too, so potent he could feel the divide.

“Clearly. This is a dispute, Master Saa, is it not? And would a dispute not be the place to have mediators?”

Master Saa held up the padd Tholme had handed her and one of her hair tentacles reached down and flicked like other Humanoids did with their fingers. “The Reconciliation Council doesn’t seem to have a list of preferred candidates in my inbox.”

Obi-Wan would’ve pointed out that she didn’t ask them for one, but Master Dooku just tapped on his wrist comm without breaking eye contact. “We wouldn’t want to burden you with names if you didn’t need them, Master Saa.”

She laughed. “What method did you diplomats use to choose?”

“A mix of direct messages, holocalls, and a communication server. The server itself totaled about 100 pages.”

“Diplomats.” She smirked.

“You say that like you’re not one of us.”

“Only due to time, Master Dooku.” Master Saa clicked open the list and gave it a quick scan, nothing about her revealing if she felt one way or the other about the names. “The chosen representatives will receive their notice soon, Yan, but Qui-Gon Jinn will not be one of them.”

Obi-Wan froze while several of the Masters startled. Whether it was Master Jinn being excluded or Master Saa saying it out loud like that, he didn’t know.

“He is one of the Order’s most accomplished diplomats and has on outside perspective I believe these proceedings will sorely need.” Master Dooku argued. Obi-Wan almost buried his face in Tyvokka’s robes to keep from hearing any more of this.

“One cannot serve on the Council when one is called as primary witness before it.”

“Ah.” Master Dooku tilted his head. “It is about the Initiates then.”

“I’m surprised you couldn’t tell already.”

“There has been a small but convincing faction arguing it was about the Finding process.”

Master Saa scoffed. “That’s not severe enough for a Grand Council.”

“That was my argument. But given that the Council is about the Initiates in their entirety, will Qui’s role truly be enough to count as ‘primary witness’?”

One of the Masters snorted, but Obi-Wan was too tucked away behind Tyvokka to tell which one. “Give Dooku the space to talk and he’ll hang you with it.”

But Master Saa had been doing this for centuries, so she just smiled at Master Dooku like the Crechemasters smiled at Younglings when they were proud of tying their shoes. “Yes.”

“Master Saa—”

“Yan.” He stopped. “Yes,” she repeated, with all the emphasis of someone who knew a secret he didn’t.

The air rang with the stomp of Master Yoda’s cane. “Witness, Qui-Gon need not be. A misunderstanding this was. A match they are. Ordained by the Force they have been.”

Obi-Wan wished Tyvokka would’ve let him keep his hood up. Obi-Wan wasn’t an idiot. He knew everyone knew what happened to him. But knowing that everyone knew he’d been thrown out of the Order, brought back on a technicality, and then hid in Master’s Tyvokka’s shadow while they had a Grand Council about it wasn’t the same thing as having a landing pad full of High Council members look at him with such an array of pity and disappointment.

And it was worse now because only he and MO knew Master Yoda was right. He and Master Jinn were perfect for one another and whatever Darkness Master Jinn had seen in Obi-Wan had been backed up by the math. They were meant to be, and Master Jinn had rejected him anyway. How broken did Obi-Wan have to be for his Force-decreed Master to reject him?

“This conversation is over.” Master Saa’s voice echoed through the hangar, psionically cutting off any counter argument. “I will contact you if have I need of you. Ty.”

Tyvokka stepped to Master Saa’s right, his wide hand on Obi-Wan’s back as he put Obi-Wan at his left, both of them bobbing along in Master Saa’s wake. With a flick of Tyvokka’s fingers he tossed Obi-Wan’s hood over his head.

Perhaps later Obi-Wan would realize that Tyvokka had tucked him safely between him and Saa. Or perhaps Obi-Wan would realize that he’d been leaking heartbroken grief into the Force while surrounded by the galaxy’s most talented empaths. But he did not know it today.

Today, all Obi-Wan knew was the idle conversation that went on between the adults about space travel and how things were in the Kiffu sector as they strolled towards a housing section of the Temple near the Room of a Thousand Fountains.

They arrived at what must’ve been Master Saa’s personal rooms, because it was nearly the same setup as Master Tyvokka’s, only the living room gave way to a reverse greenhouse, cutting into the Room with one-way glass walls so Master Saa could have her privacy but also have access to the light. Obi-Wan assumed the panel next to the reverse greenhouse could change the transparency of the glass, or even open a door so she could walk right into a corner of the Room that Obi-Wan had never seen before, despite his diligent attempts to know every inch.

The moment the door closed safely behind them, Ruzry spoke. “I’m not surprised she brought you two, but I am surprised she was so blunt about it.”

<<Yaddle got the message.>> Tyvokka rumbled, guiding Obi-Wan to one the room’s fluffiest chairs. <<She’ll try to pass it on to the others.>>

<<What message?>> MO beeped as he stuck his head out of Obi-Wan’s bag. Master Saa wasn’t the only one to blink at the droid, Obi-Wan did too. He didn’t know when or how MO had gotten himself in there. But still, he lifted the droid out while Master Saa answered. (Blessed little droid. Obi-Wan couldn’t remember putting the notebook back in his pack, but MO had tucked it away in the special pocket.)

“The Council forgot that Quinlan should not return to the Kiffu Sector until the current Clan Head dies. It says something about their focus and priorities that they did.”

“And you’re not surprised to see me, Ruzry?” Tholme dropped into a chair with a roguish grin, lightening the mood. “It’s always a disappointment not to be a surprise.”

Ruzry snorted and kicked Tholme in the shin while she dropped to a chair of her own. “Don’t pretend to be charming, Tholme. It’s weird.”

“That’s because no one could out-charm you.”

With a flick of her fingers, Ruzry tossed a pillow at Tholme’s face. His smile was like clay, changing shape from the tired, cragged man Obi-Wan was familiar with to the man Quinlan talked about.

Quinlan, who was roaming around the room’s edge, touching nick-nacks with his psychometry and still hadn’t said anything to Obi-Wan.

“Saa isn’t a Shadow, and despite centuries of kicking around, has never been one.” Ruzry pointed out. “She’s also never been an investigator. But she needs that skill here and you’re the one she trusts to do it.” Ruzry put a special emphasis on the word and some part of Obi-Wan that could still feel things was frustrated that there kept being undercurrents between these adults that he didn’t understand. Ruzry smirked at Tholme, who just rolled his eyes at Master Saa, who had settled onto a wide platform and unwound a bit from her bipedal form, letting her roots stretch out.

“I am the best.” Tholme replied, and Ruzry snorted.

“You’re competent enough, I suppose.”

“Hey.” Quin said, kind of teasing, kind of not.

Obi-Wan couldn’t help but look at him. Quinlan had gotten taller in the six months since they’d seen one another, but no broader. Quin always joked that he’d broaden out like Tholme one day, and Obi-Wan always had to say that wasn’t how genetics worked. Quin would smirk like he knew something Obi-Wan didn’t, and the trouble with Quin was, he might.

“Don’t worry, dear.” Ruzry smiled at Quin like a Tooka. “You’ll be better than barely competent.”

“Damn right I will.”

“Language.” Tholme sighed and Obi-Wan’s heart clenched. The last time he’d listened to them tease like this they’d followed it up by telling Obi-Wan he’d have a Master of his own soon and they’d all have dinner together. Now Obi-Wan… he swallowed back the burst of pain at how it was supposed to have been, but it couldn’t ever be. Master Jinn would never have him. And it was only a matter of time until everyone else believed whatever it was Master Jinn had already figured out.

The zap-hiss of MO’s electroprod hand and Quinlan’s, “Hey!” filled the air.

<<No!>>

The little droid had worked its way up the back of Obi-Wan’s chair and was perched there like a grumpy parrot. While Obi-Wan stewed, Quinlan had looped around the room’s edge and was standing in Obi-Wan’s blind spot, right next to his pack.

<<I looked at your file! No touching without permission!>>

“Quin?”

Quinlan shoved his hands into his pockets with the haste he only ever used when he was guilty. “Were you going to tell me?”

“What?” Obi-Wan twisted around and looked at his bag, trying to figure out what Quinlan’s psychometry had gotten from it before MO interrupted.

“Not that!” Quin grabbed a pillow from a chair and smacked Obi-Wan with it. “You got kicked out of the Order and you didn’t tell me! I had to find out from Master Saa that you hadn’t even sent me a goodbye, and you would’ve been off with the Corps already by the time Tholme and I ever made it back, and there wasn’t even a message from you. Then we had to go on a comm blackout, and we came back to the Temple and you still hadn’t left a message, and you left without saying goodbye!” Quinlan worked his way up to yelling – helped along by the flailing of a single pillow in his hand – and around to sniffles, which was when Obi-Wan threw himself up and over the back of the chair and into Quinlan’s arms, where they collapsed on one other, hitting the ground behind the chair.

“I was ashamed, Quin.”

“Ashamed of what?”

“I got sent away.”

“Obi-Wan Kenobi.” Quinlan popped back and took Obi-Wan by the shoulders. “You think I give a fuck about that?”

“Language.” Obi-Wan said.

“The situation calls for it.” Tholme said from someplace beyond the safe wall of the chair. Obi-Wan blushed, having forgotten about everyone listening to them. Quinlan put Obi-Wan in a headlock before he could shut back down and leaned back just enough he could look around the chair and scold. “Privacy, Master.”

Quinlan’s headlock turned into using the chair as a backrest while they curled up on the floor, Quinlan pulled a blanket from somewhere with the ease of a person comfortable in Master Saa’s rooms. Quinlan wrapped himself and the blanket around Obi-Wan like a snake, and Obi-Wan wrapped right back, though he was more subtle about it.

“What in the stars happened?”

“I was assigned to the Agricorps because of my temper. MO caught a paperwork irregularity, Master Tyvokka looked into it, realized there were persistent paperwork problems, and called for a Grand Council to fix them.” Obi-Wan said it with all the nonchalance he could manage but couldn’t make himself look Quinlan in the eyes. To Obi-Wan’s confusion, Quinlan raised a gloved hand straight up, and from atop the chair, MO stuck out his handlebar in a modified high-five.

Obi-Wan snorted a laugh and some of the tension released, which let him sink into Quinlan’s arms. “Great summary. Very clean. Now.” Quinlan pressed his forehead to Obi-Wan’s temple and murmured, “What really happened?”

“Just that.”

“Obi, you can tell me.”

Obi-Wan twisted around and pressed them forehead to forehead, letting the truth leak through the Force and through his skin. “Quin, that’s what really happened.”

Obi-Wan more felt than saw Quinlan’s furrow. “Why do I believe you?”

“Because I’m telling the truth.”

“All of it?”

“All the main points.”

“I want more than the main points,” Quinlan whined like he did when he was trying to make Obi-Wan laugh. It worked.

“Quin, we’re hiding on the floor behind a chair while the grownups discuss a Grand Council.”

“It’s always a time and place for honesty,” Quinlan said, imperious.

Obi-Wan planted a hand in Quinlan’s face and pushed him back, slipping out of the blanket wrap with the smooth slide of someone who’d been trapped by Quinlan before.

“May I ask,” Obi-Wan said into the sudden silence as he popped up from behind the chair and dropped the blanket on Quinlan’s head to keep from being dragged back under. “The adults have been discussing several theories about why you chose your specific selection process, Master Saa. Could you elaborate?”

“Fee and I have credits riding on it.” Ruzry said, like Obi-Wan side-stepping out of the way of Quinlan’s pinching fingers wasn’t odd.

Master Saa was clearly used to Quinlan, because she didn’t even blink as Obi-Wan hopped out of Quinlan’s path and dropped into the chair, Quinlan a huff of tangled dreads behind him.

“I left choosing to the different Councils in the hope they would select the people I know to be competent. If I got a bundle of incompetents, I kept the Reconciliation Council open as a loophole. If that didn’t work, as Master of the Grand Council I can ask for people to ‘advise’ me on the subject of Initiates since I haven’t taken one since Mace and that has been decades now.”

“Master Windu?”

“Yes.” She smiled, pleased at the awe in Obi-Wan’s voice. “Between those two, I thought I would cover all my options without looking too much like I was choosing council members myself.”

“Dooku couldn’t have been on that list.” Ruzry interjected while Tyvokka handed her a glass. He’d spent Obi-Wan’s time on the floor gathering up drinks in what wasn’t his apartment.

Though, he still caught Obi-Wan’s confused furrow about why Master Dooku wouldn’t be. <<Dooku currently holds no Council seat because of his dissension.>> Tyvokka explained as he handed Obi-Wan his green-tinged chocolate milk. (Obi-Wan chose to ignore the wink Tyvokka gave Quinlan along with his juice.)

“Dissent is healthy.” Master Saa argued.

<<Yes, but dissention is not. Dooku is perilously close to crossing the line into the latter.>>

“But,” Tholme interrupted before Master Saa and Tyvokka could get into an ideological debate, “Dooku has served on every Council but the High, and was only recently passed over for a seat to that. He would’ve been called on as advisor to one of the Councils even if Saa didn’t let him on the Grand Council proper.”

“He doesn’t count as a witness?” Ruzry asked. As he was so good at doing, Tyvokka caught Obi-Wan’s confusion.

<<Dooku was Yoda’s last Padawan, and was Qui-Gon Jinn’s Master.>> Obi-Wan swallowed and purposefully set down his cup without shaking.

“It might be good to have someone involved who knows two of the interested parties so well.”

Tyvokka rumbled a soothing growl. <<Quite diplomatic.>>

Saa raised her glass. “Thank you.”

Quinlan opened his mouth, so Obi-Wan found something else to say. “So, were the recommended lists you received to your liking, or will you need to make more loophole adjustments?”

“As far as I can tell, they meet my needs. I won’t be certain until I’ve reviewed all the research, and we might have to bring in a few more people based on what we discover there.”

Obi-Wan made a questioning noise like that would make Quinlan stop looking at him.

“As Ruzry said, Tholme is competent enough.” Master Saa smiled at Master Tholme, who grinned back like he appreciated it from her. “I am only an investigator insofar as any diplomat must be. Tholme will sort through the information, read between the lines on the reports being generated, and coordinate with his fellow Shadows to get to the bottom of things.”

Obi-Wan puffed up a little, catching the insult to Tyvokka. Master Saa smiled softly at him. “As the Master of Shadows, sometimes the Shadows don’t like to tell Tyvokka things for fear of disappointing him. What’s more, Tyvokka is supposed to be a High Councilor for this Grand Council, putting an asterisk on any research he might produce. Tholme is here for no purpose but to be my right hand. What’s more, Quinlan has recently left the Creche.”

That wasn’t fair. Obi-Wan had been diligently ignoring the glare Quinlan was drilling into the side of his head and that got harder when she brought him up. “He still has friends there he can rely on for information. He also has friends among the other Junior Padawans so he can find out about their experiences. I’m certain that their information will support all that Tyvokka has gathered, but my arguments will be stronger if I can tell the Grand Council I did my own research instead of relying solely on Ty’s.”

That was smart and practical. Two of Obi-Wan’s favorite things. As much as Obi-Wan wanted to be insulted that someone might not just listen to Tyvokka telling them the truth, he understood. Obi-Wan respected Master Saa for being honest enough to say it, but savvy enough to say it in a kind way. “I understand why Quin likes you so much.”

“I understand why he likes you too.”

Obi-Wan was debating with himself whether he could ask where ‘Ty’ came from, when they were interrupted by a knock at the door. “We’ll get it!” Quinlan shouted and seized both his chance and Obi-Wan, hauling him out of the chair to welcome Feemor.

“Hello?”

“Hello, Master Feemor.” Obi-Wan bowed. “This is Quinlan Vos.”

Instead of ‘hello,’ Quinlan waved Feemor in the general direction of the room. “There’s a seat over there for you. Master!” Quinlan tightened his grip. “Obi and I are going to the Creche!”

“No, we’re not!”

Obi-Wan dug in his heels.

“I knew it!” Quinlan whipped around and shoved a finger in Obi-Wan’s face. “What happened?”

“Nothing happened!”

“You are a terrible liar, Obi.”

“Only compared to you!”

“Something happened!”

“I told you!”

“No, you gave me the summary you would’ve given Docent Vant. Me!”

“Nothing happened!”

“Then why are you so sad!”

Obi-Wan just sighed. “Why am I so sad, Quin.” He made it a statement instead of a question. As though Obi-Wan didn’t have all the reasons in the world to be sad. Quinlan just threw his arms around him.

“I’m sorry.”

Obi-Wan clung back.

“Master.” Quinlan shouted right in Obi-Wan’s ear. “Obi and I are going for ice cream! We’ll be back!” And the hug turned into a yank out the door.

@@@@@

The door closed behind the whirlwind and Feemor looked over at the group. “Did I miss something?”

“No.” Tholme murmured, his entire posture changed from post-mission relaxation to serious contemplation.

“You’re surprised by that.” Feemor said.

“Quin is right; Obi is a terrible liar.”

“He still is.” Feemor confirmed. Whatever else had happened since Tholme had last seen the boy, that was the same.

“Maybe, but he’s learned to avoid answering a question in the last six months. That’s a valuable skill, but I don’t know how I feel about Obi-Wan having to learn it.”

“He’s been able to do it since we met.” Ruzry said.

“Yes, he’s always been smart enough to, but he trusts Quin and that made him more honest. Well, trusted.” Tholme looked at Saa at that, communicating some theory the two of them had.

“What is it?” Ruzry asked.

“As I said, Quin will talk to his old friends about their experiences.” Saa said, and both Ruzry and Tyvokka stiffened.

As the most neutral party, Feemor pointed out that in his professional opinion, “I don’t think Obi-Wan is in a place where he would handle the betrayal of his best friend well.”

Tholme shot up and went for something stronger than tea. With his back to the room, he spoke. “Quin wept when T’ra told us what happened. I’ve only seen him weep harder when he found out his parents had been murdered. Then he packed up and didn’t talk for days, certain that Obi would’ve contacted him by the time we reached Coruscant. But he didn’t.” Tholme poured himself a stiff drink, then another after Tyvokka’s rumble.

The room stayed silent while he handed off Tyvokka’s drink. “I don’t know you well, Master Feemor, but you come highly recommended by my other Shadows, so I trust you didn’t mean to insult my Padawan.”

“I didn’t.” Feemor meant it. “Obi-Wan is my patient.”

Tholme nodded, then poured another Human-sized drink. “Quinlan won’t betray Obi. If anything, he’ll stuff Obi full of ice cream somewhere the others can see then heckle them until they all start spilling secrets. He’s devious, my Padawan.”

<<What’s your plan?>> The drink had done nothing to soothe Tyvokka’s rumble. Feemor set his drink aside in case he needed all his faculties to mediate a conflict between these two.

“The five representatives from First Knowledge are all experienced with Initiates.” Saa explained. “The representatives from the Reassignment Council are all people who’ve said they would like to burn the Corps system to the ground and rebuild it with no concern for equal sub-council representation. If they’re given the chance to fix things, they’ll take it.”

<<Then why interrogate the children?>>

“This is about the children, Ty.” Saa leaned in and set her hand upon his paw. “We need to understand what’s going on with them from their perspective. That’s why you brought Master Feemor in.”

“I should no longer be on your list of representatives.”

Master Saa turned the full weight of her attention on Feemor. “I had hoped that was an oversight.”

“A deliberate withdrawal because I can no longer be impartial. By the time you’re done collecting information, I’ll be on the witness list.”

“That seems out of character for you, Master Feemor.” He caught the slight scolding, like Master Saa thought he’d recused himself for Qui-Gon’s sake.

“I provided my notes to the mind healer who’ll be serving on the Grand Council. She’s brilliant and treats Younglings more often than I do. She’ll be able to speak to the general mental strain of this situation.” Feemor took a moment to twist the glass and put together his words. “What’s more, if I stood in front of the Council and spoke about Obi-Wan without his permission, he would see it as a betrayal. He would believe that I never cared about him and was only looking for information to use.” Feemor looked up from the glass and met that thousand-year-old gaze. “He’s been used enough by my lineage. I won’t add to that.”

Master Saa nodded with understanding. “Will the mind healer have things to say about the other children?” Feemor reached into his pocket and withdrew the drive he’d been sent to deliver in the first place. “She’s been conducting casual preliminary interviews. She advises you not to read it until you have time to meditate afterwards. Then several hours to spend with her going over all the details.”

“That bad?”

“Well,” Feemor reached for his drink. “It’s not good.”

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