Chapter Text
Dead.
Ahsoka Tano is dead.
Ben can’t reconcile the picture on the holonet, a slumped figure, eyes shuttered closed, with his memories of the Togruta. She had been active, full of life, a bit of attitude the war hadn’t ground out of her yet.
She was a kid.
And now she’s dead.
By the time Ben hears the news, her killer, Rako Hardeen is already in a Republic prison. Ben’s still tempted to track him down and snap his neck. Only the worst kinds of bounty hunters kill kids.
Fuck.
He wishes he had Cody’s comm information so he could reach out to him. Not that it’s fair to ask Cody to talk Ben off a murderous ledge when Cody is no doubt worse off. He worked with Tano far more than Ben did.
And Rex. Skywalker.
Ben runs his hands through his hair. This war needs to end. He’ll track Count Dooku across the galaxy and assassinate him if that’s what it takes. He’ll short-circuit Grievous and bomb every droid factory from Coruscant to Tatooine.
No more little jobs. No taking out fuel depots or rescuing a trooper or two. He needs to do something big. If it puts him on the Separatists’ radar, then he’ll make them chase him until they’re run as ragged as the Republic.
#
“I have a job for you,” Bane says.
It’s been a while since Ben last heard from Bane. Bounty hunters are solitary by nature. They’ll drift together if a job is big enough, but they drift apart afterward. There’s no sense in forming close ties in Bane’s profession.
“I’m booked up,” Ben says. He isn’t sure why he picked up when Bane called. There could only be one reason for the Duros to reach out.
“You’ll want to clear your schedule for this.”
Bane doesn’t exaggerate. He’s always been a straight shooter. Against his better judgement, Ben says, “Tell me the details.”
Bane laughs and gives Ben a set of coordinates instead.
#
Ben shows at the meet-point. He barely notices Bane, because he notices the piece of shit next to him. He lunges without thinking and manages a solid hit to Hardeen’s jaw, before Bane grabs Ben around the waist and throws him down on the ground.
Ben growls and tries to get up, but Bane pins him. Ben struggles and curses everything from Bane’s ancestry to his stupid fucking hat. Finally, Bane open-hand slaps Ben across the face. It’s enough to make Ben pause.
“The kid is already dead,” Bane says. He grunts as Ben struggles again. “Quit it. This job is enough credits to buy a planet with.”
Ben settles enough for Bane to let up his guard. He spits at Hardeen’s feet.
“Yeah, yeah, disapproval noted,” Hardeen drawls.
“I have rules,” Ben says.
“No Jedi, no kids, no slavery,” Bane recites. “This doesn’t hit any of them. But even if it did, it would be worth it.”
#
They’re kidnapping the fucking Chancellor.
Ben’s first instinct is to kill Bane and collect the bounty that’s been on his head for years. His second, is to walk away. His third, the one that wins out, is to stay. He can’t let them kidnap the Chancellor, obviously, but in order to stop them, he has to know what they’re doing.
It’s a whole group of them, another three bounty hunters in addition to Bane, Hardeen, and Ben. It’s clear Bane is running the show, but everyone has a degree of respect for Hardeen. The Jedi Killer. Ben wonders what they’ll call Ben once he snaps Hardeen’s neck.
Bane keeps a close eye on Ben as if he doesn’t trust him not to hurt Hardeen. It’s a little bit funny, because the real reason Bane shouldn’t trust him is that Ben plans on double-crossing them all. Once he knows their plan, once he knows all the players involved, he’ll arrange for them to be turned over to Judicial.
So Ben bares his teeth in a smile and he plays as nice as anyone in their business ever does, and he helps plot to snatch the Republic’s top political figure. They’re going to do it on Naboo, while the Chancellor is overseeing the yearly remembrance of the invasion.
It has a certain kind of asshole poetry to it.
The first night Ben’s with the crew, he goes to his quarters and stretches out on his cot. For a job that’s supposedly going to buy them each a planet, he would’ve thought they could at least afford a decent mattress.
He does sleep for a few hours, enough to be rested and enough to make sure everyone else is asleep. He sits up, arms himself, and then steps into one of the many shadows. At night, with the lights off, everywhere is shadows. It would normally make it difficult to find where he wants to go, but the shadows help him.
They can feel the hate in his heart, and they know what he wants to do. They guide him, usher him, and it should be a sign for him to stop what he’s doing, but he doesn’t. He steps out of the shadows in Rako Hardeen’s room, and he has a hand around the piece of shit’s throat before he even wakes up.
When he does wake up, it’s with a start, and he surges up and chokes himself on Ben’s ironclad grip. He coughs and splutters, and he grabs Ben’s wrist as if he’s strong enough to break Ben’s grip.
“Cody,” Hardeen gasps.
Ben squeezes tighter. “I wouldn’t piss me off more than you already have, shit-stain.”
“Cody,” Hardeen mouths.
Ben curses and loosens his grip enough for Hardeen to talk, but with his other hand, he draws a vibroblade and holds it against Hardeen’s neck. “Are you threatening him?”
“He trusts you,” Hardeen wheezes.
“And?” Ben demands.
The Force seems suspended for a moment, balanced as if it isn’t sure which way it will tip.
And then Hardeen says, “Ahsoka Tano is alive.”
Ben growls. “Give me one good reason not to slit your throat right now.”
Hardeen raises a hand and an extra shirt floats from his bag into his hand. “I’m not Rako Hardeen.”
Ben sinks back on his heels. “Fuck.” He would know if Rako Hardeen was Force-sensitive. It wasn’t the kind of thing a person could hide easily. Or, they couldn’t hide it easily from Ben. “Who are you, then?”
“Quinlan Vos, Jedi Shadow.” Hardeen—or Vos—rubs his throat and winces at how tender it is. “Ahsoka’s alive but I had to make everyone think I killed her to get the in I needed here. You heard them. They’re going to kidnap the Chancellor and hand him over to the Separatists.”
“Why are you telling me this?” Ben asks. This has to be breaking all kinds of rules.
“Cody trusts you,” Vos says again. “Also, I’m pretty sure you’re working the same angle I am, and I’d rather you not kill me.”
Right. “You’re an undercover Jedi.” Ben rubs his forehead. “And you want to work with me to undermine the group of dangerous, highly professional bounty hunters we’ve teamed up with.”
“Yes.”
“They’ve never going to believe that I like you,” Ben says.
“So, on the outside, we stay antagonistic. I talk shit to you, you slap me around a little, it’s fine.”
Ben can’t help but stare incredulously at Vos. “There’s something wrong with you.”
Vos shrugs. “Are you in or should I arrange for an extraction for you?”
“Fuck you,” Ben snaps. “I’m in.”
“Oh, good. How’d you get in here, anyway? The door’s locked and alarmed. I should have been alerted when you first touched it.”
“I didn’t use the door.” It’s Ben’s turn to smirk. “And I think a few secrets between us is good. Have a good night, Hardeen.”
#
It’s a damn good plan, if Ben is honest with himself. It would probably even work, if Ben and Hardeen weren’t working together behind the scenes to sabotage it. It does make him worry at how easy it is to snatch one of the highest profile people in the Republic.
True, it took a bounty hunter killing a Jedi to get enough street cred to bring together a group of people who prefer to work solo, but it does introduce the question of what else a team of bounty hunters could do if they could get along well enough to do it.
Could they execute a plan to kidnap Dooku? Grievous?
“I still can’t believe how much this job is worth,” Ben says. He and Hardeen—Vos—don’t spend much time together, because it would be suspicious, but there are little pockets of time and privacy where they can talk openly. This is one of them. “Makes you think.”
“About what?” Vos asks. He tosses a knife in the air and catches it by the hilt.
“If the mysterious benefactor has any intention of paying it.”
Vos looks over at him, curious. “The Separatists have deep pockets. They can afford it. Especially if they think this will turn the war in their favor. They can recoup the credits as they steamroller the galaxy.”
“I guess.” Ben’s still unsettled. Something about this doesn’t add up. He’ll reflect on it in his evening meditation.
Vos stretches and then winces as some unseen pain.
“Bane didn’t kick your ass that hard in training today,” Ben says.
Vos doesn’t grin at the teasing. There’s something troubled in his eyes as he tips his head back against the wall. “Leftover injury from my arrest. Skywalker was the one who found me. Someone must have tipped him off, because it wasn’t supposed to be him. The mission almost ended before it could start.” Vos laughs but there isn’t anything pleasant about it. It’s sharp, bitter, like the last dregs of caf.
“Ahsoka’s his padawan,” Ben says. “They didn’t tell him her death was faked?”
“They needed his grief to sell it.” Vos’s lips twist into a frown. “It worked but it’s a high price to pay.”
“How close did he come to killing you?” Ben asks, because he can read between the lines of what Vos is saying. Skywalker, grieving for the loss of his padawan, found the bounty hunter responsible for doing it. Honestly, Ben’s amazed Vos survived.
“Closer than anyone’s comfortable with. I think he has mandated mind healing, but I’m not sure it’ll matter. When he finds out the Council lied…” Vos exhales deeply.
“He must have been angry when he confronted you,” Ben says.
Vos pulls himself out of his exhaustion enough to look curious again. “Are you asking me if I think he’ll Fall?”
“I’m asking if he already has.”
Vos shakes his head. “Jinn showed up in time, but Jinn won’t always be there to hold him back. You know a lot more about the Jedi Order than I would expect from a bounty hunter. Or pirate. Or whatever you call yourself.”
Ben hums as he gives himself a moment to think. Secrecy, privacy, those have kept him safe over the years. And maybe, there’s a bit of lingering shame woven through as well, but his past has always been his past and no one’s business. Cody knows parts of it now, but Cody’s special, an exception.
Can he trust Vos? Does he want to? Vos has already shared more with Ben than Ben’s shared in return. Some of that, of course, was necessity. Ben would have killed him if he hadn’t. Does that mean Ben’s obliged to share in return?
If this war ever fucking ends, what does Ben’s future look like? Is it with Cody? And will they spend it quietly on a planet in the Mandalore system? Will Ben have to attend Republic or even Jedi functions at Cody’s side?
The Force doesn’t suggest to him a path to take. This is Ben’s decision and his alone.
Ben tosses a knife of his own into the air. He slows its rotation and then has it float into his hand. “I know more than the average galactic citizen about the Jedi Order. I was a washout. Sent to the Corps. I guess you could say the Force had a different path for me in mind.”
“I’m sorry the Order didn’t do better by you,” Vos says.
It’s Ben’s turn to laugh bitterly. “You had to pretend to kill a padawan. Skywalker had to grieve for someone he doesn’t know is still alive. The troopers think the only reason they live is so they can die for the Republic. I’m not the only one the Order let down.”
“We need to change. Another reformation.”
“And when’s that going to happen?” Ben asks.
Vos shakes his head, as if he knows his answer won’t be a good one. “After the war.”
“First, we have to end the fucking thing.” Ben taps his knife on his knee. “If you stayed as Hardeen, we could do some damage. Kidnap Dooku instead.”
“Covert ops and assassinations? I can’t say I’m not tempted. Shame we have to get this crew arrested. They aren’t half-bad.”
Ben laughs even though none of this is funny.
#
Ben escapes capture when Vos drops the net on the crew. He has to work for it, and he almost doesn’t make it out, but he slips out the side as Bane curses Vos and all of his ancestors.
He makes it to his ship, treats the blaster burns he got during his escape and then tries to figure out what the hell to do next.
For lack of any better options, he travels to Naboo. People he knows will be there and maybe, in all the activity, Cody will be able to slip away for a few moments with him. Maybe even a night.
Working with Vos has unsettled Ben. There are even more pieces on the board that he doesn’t understand. A bounty with a price too big to be real. The Jedi fucking their own over in defense of the Chancellor. Add that to the existence of the troopers. The chips. There’s so many things that are wrong in the galaxy. But what is the source?
Ben isn’t Nubian, and he’s wary of interfering, but he finds a nice rooftop perch to watch the ceremony from. It’ll be nice to see a celebration of peace, of victory, after the shitshow of recent years.
He’s surprised, pleasantly so, when he gains company. Captain Rex, Commander Cody, and a Kiffar Ben doesn’t recognize all join him on the roof.
“Quinlan Vos,” the Kiffar says. “With my actual face this time.”
“You told him?” Rex’s judgement is a palpable thing as he settles down next to Cody.
Cody, of course, is next to Ben, close enough for them to touch, even though the touch is muted through their various layers of clothes and armor.
“I made a judgement call,” Vos says. He sits on Ben’s other side. Ben stares at the bruising on Vos’s face, and Vos offers a strained smile. “That was Skywalker’s reaction after learning I didn’t kill his padawan.”
“Well, shit,” Ben says.
They turn their attention toward the steps of the palace where the celebration will be taking place. There are Gungans on the platform, mixed in with the Nubians who are being honored or who have enough political capital to be front and center.
The Chancellor is there, of course, along with Senator Amidala who, if Ben remembers his history right, was queen when the invasion happened. Skywalker and Jinn are up there as well, but there’s a noticeable tension between them. Skywalker even goes as far as to stand on the other side of the Chancellor, putting the man between him and his former Jedi master.
“Wow,” Ben says.
“He knew,” Cody says quietly. “General Jinn knew, and he didn’t tell General Skywalker, because they needed General Skywalker’s grief to sell it. Tactically, it was the right choice.”
Cody doesn’t list all the ways it was the wrong choice, but he doesn’t need to. They all know.
Remembering his conversation with Vos about Skywalker’s state of mind, Ben looks with more than his vision. The Force is bright around Skywalker, almost blindingly so. Where his aura should reach for Jinn’s, it doesn’t. It isn’t quite a severed bond. More like a blocked one.
More disturbing are the chains of black which slither through Skywalker’s aura. Like Vos said, he isn’t Fallen, but there’s certainly the potential there. And…huh. While Skywalker’s bond to Jinn is blocked and his bond with Ahsoka reaches out toward wherever she is, the black chains originate from the man standing next to Skywalker.
From the Chancellor.
Ben’s gaze slides to him, and he can’t hold in his curse. There are dark spots on Skywalker’s aura, but where he’s light, he’s blindingly so. The Chancellor’s aura is dark, cold, almost unnoticeable.
“Vos,” Ben says and his voice shakes because this can’t be true. This can’t be right. If it is, it’s unthinkable. And if it’s not, Ben’s having hallucinations. He almost wishes it’s the latter. “How good is your Force sight?”
“Why?” Vos asks. He’s tense next to Ben, as alert as Rex and Cody are, because they’ve all responded to the fear in Ben’s voice.
“Look at Skywalker.”
It’s Vos’s turn to swear, softer and milder than Ben. “Someone’s corrupting him. The mind healers should have caught this.”
“Follow the chains,” Ben says.
He knows the moment Vos realizes, because he goes completely still, physically and in the Force. And then he pounds his fist on the rooftop, hard enough to dent it.
“What is it?” Rex demands. “What can you see that we can’t?”
“I think,” Ben speaks carefully, slowly, as if someone will interrupt and tell him he’s wrong. “that the Chancellor is a Sith.”
“And I think he’s right,” Vos says. He punches the roof again. “It was his idea, the undercover mission. He wanted to drive a wedge between Anakin and Qui-Gon. To cut Anakin off from his padawan. He—fuck. He’s looking for a new apprentice.”
“What does that mean?” Cody asks, his voice level, somehow, despite the horrific conclusions they’re coming to.
“It means, the Sith have been playing the long game,” Vos says. “Since…since the Naboo invasion, maybe even earlier. It means we’re years behind. And our greatest enemy is the most powerful political figure in the galaxy.”
“And working with Dooku,” Ben adds.
“So the war?” Rex asks.
“It’s why no side gains any ground,” Vos says. “Because the Sith is controlling both sides. He’s just sitting back and watching us destroy ourselves.”
“What do we do?” Cody asks. “Can we gather evidence to prove he’s the Sith?”
“And warn him we’re onto him?” Vos shakes his head. “We can’t. And I’m sure he’s taken precautions. He must be cloaking himself in some way or else we would have noticed before. Son of a—” Vos cuts himself off. “He’s been sitting in view of the Temple this whole time. Just fucking laughing at us.”
“We have to kill him,” Ben says. His stomach twisted itself when Vos said precautions, and he still feels sick. Is that what those command chips were? Did the Sith make sure they were implanted? He could turn the entire GAR into his puppets. How many other “precautions” does he have?
“No one knows what he is except for us,” Vos says. “You’re talking about assassinating the Chancellor of the Republic. I don’t even know if we can do it. It took Jinn and another fully-trained knight to kill the apprentice on Naboo. Dooku gives us fits every time we run into him. And this is the Sith Master we’re talking about.”
Ben looks again with his Force vision. Darkness swirls around the Chancellor, wispy, almost ethereal. Like shadows. Curious, Ben reaches toward them.
Hello, they call, recognizing his touch. Join us.
“We have to do it,” Cody says. His words are clipped, efficient, and he looks every inch the Marshal Commander. As if he expects them to obey. “We’re the only hope.”
“I don’t even know where we’d begin,” Vos says. “Certainly not in the middle of a victory parade.”
“I have an idea,” Ben says, because the knows the feel of shadows, and that is what the Sith Lord is. He’s made of shadows. Ben’s never shadow-stepped into a person before. Is it even possible? Will it kill the Sith? Will it kill Ben?
“Is it a bad idea?” Vos asks.
“Oh, definitely.” It’s easier to look at Vos than to look at Cody. “Do you remember when you were Hardeen and you asked me how I got into your room?”
“You didn’t use the door,” Vos says.
“I can shadow-step,” Ben tells him.
“You—” Vos’s eyes widen as he realizes what Ben’s thinking. He starts to shake his head and then he stills. “It might work. Might. But I have no idea what it’ll do to you.”
“It’ll be a hell of a distraction, at the very least,” Ben says. “You’d have to get close enough to kill him.”
“Someone explain what’s going on,” Rex demands.
Ben takes a deep breath and then turns to face the two troopers. He can’t quite meet Cody’s eyes. “The Sith is made out of shadows. And I have the ability to step in and out of shadows. I think I can step into him, hold him still or keep him distracted while you get in close enough to kill him.”
“And if you’re still…in him when we kill him?” Rex asks.
Ben shrugs. Maybe it will kill him. Maybe stepping into the Sith will kill him. Maybe it’ll give the Sith direct access to Ben’s mind, and he’ll turn Ben to the darkside. There are a dozen ways this could go poorly. But if he doesn’t even try…
“Shit,” Rex says.
He doesn’t try and talk Ben out of it. Vos doesn’t either. Ben glances up at Cody and almost takes the coward’s route and looks away. Because Cody’s jaw is clenched, and his eyes are pinched, but he can’t hold back the thin sheen of tears which rise up. He won’t talk Ben out of this. Not when it’s their best option.
“I—” Ben snaps his mouth shut. He can’t say it. It’s selfish. He promised a real go of it, after the war. It isn’t after the war yet. There probably won’t be one, not for him at least.
“Say it,” Cody says. He grabs Ben’s hand. “If you die, I want to have heard it once.”
“I love you,” Ben says, and it’s like a rush of emotions wash over him, ones he’s done his best to hold back since the first time he met Cody.
Rex and Vos have turned away to give them as much privacy as possible. Ben leans in and kisses Cody, half-desperate. It’s hard, the press of their mouths, the sharpness of their teeth. Ben tastes salt and isn’t sure whose tears they are.
He forces himself to pull back. He doesn’t want to, but he can’t lose himself in Cody. He has a job to do. Ben allows himself one last kiss. This one is soft, is tender, is everything the other one wasn’t. It’s a thank you and a goodbye and an I love you, all rolled into one.
And then Ben stands up. “How quickly can you get to the steps?”
“We’ll walk part of the way with you,” Vos says. “Too many variables if we leave from here.”
While Ben and Vos debate logistics, Rex and Cody have a debate of their own. It ends when Cody says, “I’m better from a distance than you. Go.”
“Vod,” Rex says, gruff, as if he can hide the affection in the single word.
“Go,” Cody says again.
The three of them go. Ben doesn’t ask what Cody plans to do from the roof. He has a good idea, but he doesn’t want to know.
“You want to see Skywalker,” Vos tells Rex as they slowly make their way through the crowd. “You want to stand at your general’s side.”
“What?” Rex asks.
“Jedi can get feelings,” Vos says. “Sith can too. We can’t think about our mission, or he might pick up on it. Think about Skywalker. Hugging him. Checking in after the whole mess.” Vos glances at Ben.
“I owe Jinn a broken nose,” Ben says and then directs all his thoughts toward a long-overdue punch.
They’re two-thirds of the way to the palace steps when Vos puts a hand on Ben and Rex’s arms to stop them. “Okay,” Vos says.
“Okay,” Ben repeats. He takes a deep breath. In a packed crowd like this, Naboo’s sun shining brightly above them all, there are plenty of shadows. He steps into Vos’s and the real word fades. He’s in the shadow world now.
The Sith is more solid here than he is in the real world. He’s a writhing mass of shadows, all of them twisting in and out of each other. Hundreds of eyes snap to him, and Ben runs for the Sith, because the element of surprise is gone. He leaps into the shadows, and they pull him in, eager to blend him with themselves.
Foolish boy, the Sith hisses. He sounds delighted, rather than angry, as if Ben’s stepped into a trap. Did you think a failed initiate stood a chance against me?
How did he—right. Mind reading. Ben fights the shadows as they try to absorb him into the Sith. He isn’t a Sith. He’s his own person. He’s going to remain his own person.
Join me, the Sith says, temptation wrapping around Ben. I can give you power greater than anything you could ever imagine.
I don’t need power, Ben snaps. I just need you to fucking die.
The Sith cackles, and his laughter scrapes through Ben’s entire being. Ben wants to flinch away, but the Sith holds him tightly, pins him where he is.
I am building an empire, the Sith tells him. I can spare those I favor. Your Commander can live. Would you like that?
Yes, he wants Cody to live. But not at the expense of every other trooper in the GAR. Not at the expense of the Jedi or the Republic.
Ben strains against the shadows holding him hostage. He feels their attention drift. The Sith spots Rex and Quinlan, and he laughs again, this time as chilling as the first.
You think you can stop me? You think you can hold me? The Sith raises his hand. Ben can see the flicker of it in the real world. His mouth opens, no doubt to give some kind of order. The shadows weave through Ben. They tug at him, try to coax him in. The Sith is in Ben’s mind. But it means Ben is in his.
Ben channels every bit of fear and loneliness he felt on Bandomeer through the connection. It’s enough to make the Sith pause. And then, instead of words coming from his mouth, the Sith screams; pain and sorrow echoing through the air.
You! The Sith shrieks as it claws at Ben, trying to dislodge him.
And then they both scream as pain erupts, burning through them. Ben looks into the real world. Rex has driven a blade into Palpatine’s gut. It’s an ugly, painful wound, fatal if left alone. There is chaos on the platform.
Vos does his best to herd Jinn and Skywalker back.
“66!” Palpatine shouts. “Execute Order 66!”
“Try again you miserable fuck,” Rex says and yanks his blade up.
Out, Ben thinks. Out, out, out. He gathers himself as quickly as he can, pulling his self back from the Sith’s creeping shadows. Once he has all of himself, he steps out of the shadows. He emerges on the palace steps and then collapses, bleeding from a gut wound.
He sees the blaster bolt as it hits, a kill shot between Palpatine’s eyes. Palpatine’s mouth is open around a silent cry. His eyes are wide, frozen in his moment of defeat. Rex tackles the man to the ground and drives his knife through his heart.
And then Vos springs forward and uses his lightsaber to decapitate the man.
No kill like overkill, Ben thinks and then he tumbles into unconsciousness.
#
Ben wakes up.
He’s cuffed to a med-bed, and he can’t feel the Force, but he isn’t sure if that’s the cuffs or the drugs. His head is fuzzy, and he looks around the room. It seems familiar, but he can’t quite place it. And then he sees who is sitting at his bedside, and he stops thinking about the room.
“Cody,” he slurs.
Cody pulls out of his slump—had he been asleep?—and he smiles at Ben. It’s almost enough to chase the exhaustion from Cody’s face. He links his fingers through Ben’s with one hand and with his other, he pushes the hair back from Ben’s forehead. Cody’s hands are cool, a nice contrast to Ben’s overheated skin.
Ben jangles the cuffs. “We in trouble?”
“We’re heroes.” Cody’s lips twist with his opinion on that. “They’re settling the details.”
“We’re alive,” Ben says, because that’s the important part.
“We are.” Cody bends down to kiss the back of Ben’s hand.
“Thanks for not shooting until I was out of him. Tell Rex, thanks for the flesh wound.”
Cody laughs, thickly, like he’s trying to laugh and cry at the same time. “Tell him yourself.”
“I’ll do that,” Ben mumbles and then he falls asleep again.
#
The next time Ben wakes up, it isn’t Rex at his side but a different blond. Ben squints at the Mandalorian sitting, poised and controlled, on the edge of the chair next to Ben’s bed.
“Arla?” he asks.
“I came as soon as I heard what happened. One of Mandalore’s citizens taken into custody without so much as a notification.”
Ben’s head hurts too much for this.
“I told the Jedi Council about the chips,” Arla says. “And your various projects throughout the war. How you’ve been working from the beginning on the side of the Republic. And how recently, you’ve turned your attention to uncovering the man behind it all. It’s unfortunate that the man behind it all was the Chancellor, but that isn’t your fault.”
“Unfortunate.” Ben snorts. “That’s an understatement. Cody and Rex? They’re okay?”
“Commendations for the both of them.”
There’s something Arla isn’t telling him. Ben can feel it, the heavy press of the Force around whatever thing remains unsaid between them. “What is it?”
“You did the right thing,” Arla says. “You did the necessary thing. But you still assassinated the Chancellor of the Republic. Once you’re healed enough to travel, it’s been suggested that you stay in Mandalorian space for the foreseeable future.”
Not completely unexpected. And Mandalorian space has improved significantly since Arla and Bo-Katan started working together.
“And the follow-up?” Ben asks. “The thing you’re worried to tell me?”
“The best negotiators are sitting down together, but the war isn’t over. And my claim that the troopers, as clones of Jango Fett are Mandalorian and therefore my citizens has been tied up in court.”
“Cody’s remaining on the frontline,” Ben translates. “And I’m exiled to Mandalore.”
“You fought by his side when you could,” Arla says. “And you’ve given him beskar’gam to protect him while you’re not there. You’ve done all you can here.”
“What do I do on Mandalore, then?”
“Make a home for him to return to,” Arla answers. “Annoy Bo-Katan.”
Ben laughs, which was probably her intention. It hurts though, because he has a still-healing wound on his side. Rex’s knife ripped from his hipbone up almost to his ribs. It’s deep and it’s healing, but it’s a slow, painful process.
It’s better than being dead, at least.
#
Ben settles on Concord Dawn, not at the Fett homestead, thank you very much. He in fact picks the other side of the planet in a deliberate move. It’s close enough to a major city that he can get off-planet when he needs to. When he’s antsy, he can visit Keldabe and walk through the markets or bother Bo-Katan.
Most of the time, though, he works on his house and works his plot of land. There’s a dozen homesteads in walking distance, and they’re all centered around a small town. Haven, named by the men who built it.
There are familiar faces whenever Ben goes into town. Fives and Jesse run the mechanics’ shop. Dogma and Tup run the general store. Buck runs a clinic out of the back of the bar that Juice ostensibly owns. Murphy, Dina, and some of the other freed troopers work the surrounding land.
It’s a small community, but Ben finds that he likes the quiet.
Most evenings, he sits at the bar with the others, sharing big plates of food and fighting over what alcohol should accompany their meal. They tell stories some nights. On others, they take turns reading from books they found. There is an entire life outside of the one they know, and they’re struggling to catch up.
“Skywalker and the senator got married.” Murphy tosses the article up on the projection screen on the far wall. When they have the time, and can all agree, they’ll project movies on the wall. Normally light-hearted stuff.
Tonight, the screen shows an enlarged picture of Skywalker and Amidala sharing a kiss under a trellis.
“Is that even allowed?” Dogma asks.
“He left the Order,” Jesse says.
“What?” Fives zooms in on the text of the article. Buried a few paragraphs is in a line about Skywalker no longer being a member of the Jedi Order. “Fuck that.”
“Fives,” Buck begins but Fives rounds on him with a glare.
“What, he’s allowed to leave the war and get married, while our vode are forced to keep fighting and dying? It’s bantha shit and you know it.”
“It isn’t his fault,” Dina says.
Buck sighs. “But it’s alright to be angry. Has anyone heard anything recently?”
“Wolffe says another two months,” Tup says. “One if you promise him a house and a year without rations.”
“Tell him if he shows up within the week, I’ll be his personal damn chef,” Juice says.
This starts off a round of friendly bickering over each other’s cooking abilities, or lack thereof. Ben wonders if that’s what Cody wants as well. A soft bed, big enough to stretch out on every night and homecooked meals every day.
Ben could do that.
Gods, it sounds so simple.
It isn’t. He knows it isn’t. He lived a sheltered life at the Temple, but once he was kicked out, there was no kind of stability. He lived in starships and motel rooms. He ate pre-made meals and rations and whatever he could charm out of his one-night stands.
Maybe, his wants now are simple. But that’s a good thing. It makes them easy to achieve.
“Will you teach me?” Ben asks. When Juice looks at him blankly, they’ve already moved on to a different conversation, Ben elaborates. “How to cook?” He knows the basics, self-taught when he was younger, but his interest faded as other skills took his attention.
“Of course,” Juice says. “We’ll add it to the rotation.”
Three nights a week, they have skill nights. Sometimes, they teach each other something they know. Sometimes, they all learn something new together. Or, try to at least. Ben’s attempts at pottery are misshapen and lumpy.
#
Cody comes home mid-week and without any warning. Ben’s puttering around his kitchen, waiting for his latest casserole to cook when he hears the soft knock on his open door.
He looks up and doesn’t quite believe what he’s seeing. In his beskar’gam, his helmet clipped to his belt, and with a bag slung over his shoulder is Cody.
“I’m here,” Cody says.
“You are.” Ben rallies himself. He crosses the distance between them in five easy strides. He eases the bag from Cody’s grip and sets it down on the ground. He traces the scar that curves around Cody’s eye. He traces the faint wrinkles around his eyes and eases the furrow in his brow.
“You are,” Ben says again, wondering and grateful, and he leans in to kiss Cody, as sweet a kiss as they’ve ever shared. “Welcome home.”