Chapter Text
Obi-Wan pushes his tray across the table to Quinlan, who looks at him with a raised eyebrow. “Do you want to finish mine?” Obi-Wan asks. Ship rations certainly don’t slow Quinlan down at all. Obi-Wan has managed to eat the soup just fine, but can’t seem to finish the rest. He curls his fingers around the mug of his tea, watching Quinlan shrug and polish off his tray.
“What?” Quinlan asks around a mouthful of food.
Cody’s tray slides in next to Quinlan’s. He pushes an extra serving onto Quinlan’s tray. Quinlan makes a pleased sound and Cody grimaces. “I don’t know where you put it.”
Quinlan shrugs again. “Plenty of missions where you don’t know when you might eat next,” he says. “I like to take advantage when I can.” Part of that is the truth, Obi-Wan muses. Part of it is that Quinlan has always been a ravenous pit.
“Fair enough,” Cody says.
Quinlan launches into some exaggerated mission story. Obi-Wan’s heard a variation of it before, so he takes pleasure in watching Cody nod and hum in all the right places, giving Quinlan all the audience he needs. Obi-Wan can feel Jango’s approach from behind. He moves to sit by Cody, but diverts back to Obi-Wan’s side of the table at Cody’s scowl, just as Quinlan is finishing with a flourish.
“...but that is nothing to the time Obes spent on–”
“No thank you,” Obi-Wan says, not even caring which story Quinlan had been about to tell.
Jango looks between them, and Obi-Wan wonders if he’s viewing their interaction through a new lens. He certainly hopes so.
Mij slides in on Obi-Wan’s other side, making him feel a little penned in, but he’s pushing a new mug of tea in Obi-Wan’s direction, so it’s fine. Cody’s lips quirk up in a smile, but Quinlan leans back, narrowing his gaze at Mij and relaxing only when Obi-Wan nudges at him over their bond. Quinlan pokes back and Obi-Wan rolls his eyes, drinking the tea. It’s whatever concoction Mij had brewed up in his office before, and Obi-Wan appreciates getting to drink it without the interrogation. Quinlan sighs, returning to his food.
“Are you two talking to each other, when you do that?” Mij asks, gesturing between them. Cody looks up from his plate, alert.
“Mij,” Jango warns.
“It’s a simple question,” Mij says. “I’m only curious.”
Quinlan looks to Obi-Wan, and waggles his hand. “Obes and I are closer than most, and sometimes we can get words over our bond. But that’s not strictly typical.” He glances over at Jango. “We don’t usually need words anyway. It helps that we are such good friends. And have been friends for such a long time.”
Jango glares at Quinlan across the table. Obi-Wan sighs. “Thank you, Quin.”
“Platonic friends, who–”
“Thank you, Quinlan,” Obi-Wan says.
“Fascinating,” Mij says. Cody can't quite cover his laugh. “They are friendship bonds, then.” Mij’s tone is one of affected disinterest, but Obi-Wan suddenly feels wary again, wondering how much he’s putting together.
“Not all of them,” Quinlan says. “There are many kinds. Masters and Padawans, for example, typically have strong bonds between each other.” He smiles, likely thinking of his own. “Not always though, I suppose,” he says, looking at Obi-Wan.
“Mine was strong enough,” Obi-Wan says mildly. Quinlan has never been exactly fair about Qui-Gon. It’s no use arguing about it now, Qui-Gon’s been one with the Force for so long.
Jango frowns. “You don’t ever talk about your Jetii’bajur.”
“He was a good Jedi and a good man,” Obi-Wan says. Quinlan pulls a face, but doesn’t argue. A relief; Quin knows Obi-Wan is uninterested in rehashing this discussion, never mind in front of Jango and the others, who likely have little interest in discussing the merits of a singular Jedi. Qui-Gon had done his best. He changes the subject's direction. “My bond with Anakin was very strong.” He smiles fondly. “Even if it was like sharing a brain with a supernova. I miss it sometimes, but not the headaches.”
Quinlan mock-shudders. “I don’t know how you did it.”
“That explains why you talk about shields,” Cody says.
Obi-Wan nods, pleased Cody has made the connection.
Jango looks in his direction, eyes furrowed. “Do you have many of these bonds?” he asks. His tone is hard to parse, standoffish.
“A few,” Obi-Wan says, “But then, I am not, strictly speaking, typical.” Mij leans forward. Obi-Wan finishes his tea, spinning the mug around on the table, wondering if there is a polite way to end this conversation. Or at least, remove the audience.
Cody stands up. “General, we were going to go over the supply lists,” he says.
Obi-Wan doesn’t remember any such plan, but it turns out Cody doesn’t mean him. After a moment, Quinlan makes the face Obi-Wan recognizes as his just-been-kicked face, and stands up too. “Yes, of course,” Quinlan says. “You’re right.” He looks between Jango and Obi-Wan for a moment, and pokes at Obi-Wan over the bond before picking up his tray. “Medic Gilamar, we could use your input.”
Obi-Wan sighs, rubbing a hand over his face. They are so obvious, it’s almost embarrassing.
Mij sits for a beat longer, a considering look on his face. But he, too, gets up. “I’m sure you could,” he says. The look he sends Jango’s way is just as meaningful as Quin’s had been. Force save him.
Jango waits until they’ve all exited, before he turns to Obi-Wan. “What did Cod’ika mean, about shields?” Jango’s shoulders are a little stiff, like he knows he won’t like the answer.
Obi-Wan sighs again, feeling it catch in his throat. He stands, gesturing to Jango. “Walk with me?” he asks.
The hallways are quiet, but Obi-Wan doesn’t want to speak until he knows they will be alone. Jango is tense, silent beside him, until they reach the Fountain Room. He pokes at Quinlan over the bond before lightly blocking it; not wishing for any of his feelings to cross over to him.
Jango gives vorp’ika a comically wide berth before settling down. Obi-Wan sits across from him, feeling his heart flutter. He’s not sure how this conversation will go, truly. Jango is so prickly around any discussion of the Force.
Obi-Wan centers himself. “Everyone projects something of themselves, in the currents of the Force. We can read them, sometimes, if their emotions are strong enough.”
“Jetii osik,” Jango says, automatic, like a joke now. “Like on Kashyyyk.”
“Exactly,” Obi-Wan says. “Shielding helps you from sharing more than you intend, whether you are Force-sensitive or not.”
“Vos said it wasn’t mind reading.”
Obi-Wan finds himself reaching out, but pulls his hands back, sensing his touch would be unwelcome. “I’ve told you before, you are very hard to read. Quin was telling you the truth. We don’t read minds, Jango, unless we are bonded to someone and they initiate a thought. Cody is nearly as impenetrable as you, but I taught him how to shield because we have a bond, and I didn’t want him to accidentally let something slip.”
Jango jerks back a hair, and it hurts, that backward motion. “What does it mean to be bonded to someone?”
Obi-Wan sighs. “Bonds connect two beings in the Force. It allows us to sense each other, though to varying degrees.”
Jango’s brow furrows. “Cody doesn’t have the Force,” he says.
“No,” Obi-Wan says. He speaks faster, hoping to keep Jango from leaving. “I became aware of my bond with Cody fairly early on in our time together. It’s less to do with the Force and more to do with my specific biology.”
“Stewjoni,” Jango supplies.
Obi-Wan holds back another sigh. “Yes,” he says. “Stewjoni tend to form natural bonds with people. It does not seem to matter if the bondmate is also Force-sensitive, in my case. But the Force amplifies certain aspects. So it’s a little different, with Cody.”
Jango’s jaw is set, just a bit. “Does he know about this bond?” he asks.
“He does,” Obi-Wan says. His heart has begun racing.
“Could he get rid of it, if he wanted?” Jango won’t look at him, now.
Obi-Wan grasps at what little calm he has left. This is going very poorly, worse than he imagined. He should have known better, with talk about bonds. Every question Jango asks feels like it’s carving a piece out of his heart. He swallows, nausea rolling his stomach. “On his end. If he stopped feeling the same way about me as I do him, yes. They only form when I share very strong connections with someone. Friendship. Family. Love.” His voice is hoarse, but he’s afraid to clear his throat. His cheeks warm.
“Love?” Jango finally turns his head to look at him. Slow realization dawns over his face. "You said you have a few bonds."
Obi-Wan shrugs, helpless. He probably won’t have a better chance than this. “It’s not thoughtless flirting, Jango,” he says. “Truthfully, with you, it never has been. I care for you a great deal.” He holds Jango’s gaze, studying.
Jango’s expression shutters, minutely. It’s different than it felt on Little Keldabe. It had been a sharp crack, then, instead of this dull throb.
“Boba told me, he’s been asking you about flowers,” Obi-Wan continues. “I know you’re not interested. I remember. It’s all right.” The cold washing over him, that part feels familiar.
“Boba.” Jango laughs a little. “I just, I never knew what to think. I do like you, Kenobi. I’m not saying I’m uninterested. There have been times when I thought–There’s just a lot at stake, right now. I haven’t been able to focus on anything else.” Jango pulls back. He rubs his hand over his face. Takes a deep breath. Obi-Wan can’t stop looking at his face, cataloging every flicker. “If you had told me ten years ago that I would be trusting a Jedi, friends with one–I wouldn’t believe you. I didn’t know love was something Jedi could feel. But this osik about bonds, something in my head, I just don’t understand it.”
The worst thing, Obi-Wan thinks, is that it’s true. Jango continues to be honest and direct. However Jango feels, or wants to feel, it’s not the same as what Obi-Wan feels for him. Otherwise he wouldn’t feel this creeping dread. Maybe he’s close. Maybe he needs time to understand. But he’s not there now. And he doesn't want a bond.
“You don’t have to,” Obi-Wan says. “I’m sorry to have made you so uncomfortable. I just, you asked about shields and I thought you should know. Of course nothing has to happen that you are uncomfortable with. You don’t have to worry about the bond, Jango. They don’t form completely unless both people feel the same way. It won’t hurt you.”
Jango doesn’t say anything, just shakes his head.
So there it is. Obi-Wan feels the dull throb expand out, the vine constricting almost around his heart. He needs to leave. He doesn’t want to. He’d known that being a Jedi would make this a difficult proposition. It’s why he’d been fine with his admiration from afar, before the curse forced his hand. He was hoping it wouldn’t be insurmountable. Unwanted and unloved, he remembers.
“Bonds and the Force are part of me, Jango,” Obi-Wan says softly. “It’s not something that will go away.”
Jango grimaces. He rubs a hand on the back of his neck. “I know. I know. I’m not asking for that.”
“What are you asking for?” Obi-Wan asks. “Are you asking for anything?”
Jango gestures between them. “I can’t–can we let things be as they are for now? I will–I can’t promise anything. I am trying. But I like–I like how things are. They're good, right? We're good?”
“Of course, Jango. Nothing has to change. We will be fine. I will still help you as best as I can, when you need me.” Obi-Wan can no longer ignore the feeling in his throat, pressing up. He squeezes Jango’s wrist, only briefly allowing himself that moment of contact. “I should go.”
“No,” Jango says, standing up. His eyes are conflicted, regretful. “No, this is your space. I need to find Mij, anyway.” He stops at the door. “Thank you,” he says, and it sounds an awful lot like I'm sorry.
Obi-Wan can’t speak, just waves hand in Jango’s direction as he goes. He coughs up flowers as soon as the door is closed, long and painful, until he feels his ribs may crack with the force of it. He appreciates the gesture of Jango leaving, but as he looks around the room, eyes burning, it gives him none of its usual peace, and he slips away to his quarters.
He allows himself a few minutes of meditation, reexamining the conversation with Jango, making sure he hasn’t missed something. He releases his heartbreak and anxiety into the Force, barely noticing when tears start to fall down his face. Quinlan had been right to ask him to have this conversation. It’s good to know for sure, where Jango stands. That the shig and the jokes and the touches – maybe they were something from Jango, but not enough to overcome his trepidation about the Jedi, and bonds. And now those will probably end, too. But he tried. He’s glad Jango knows more about the bonds, more about how Obi-Wan feels, even if he can’t allow himself to feel the same. Right now, Jango had said, but Obi-Wan is running out of time. So this must be the will of the Force, and it’s not his place to ask what the Force wills. He pokes at the vine, and that swooping, breathless feeling – it’s almost comforting.
He examines his three healthy bonds. Patient, protective Mace. Loyal, determined Quinlan. Steady, thoughtful Cody. He takes comfort in their glow, the way they pulse in the Force, before he pulls out of his thoughts and lifts his comm. Quinlan and Cody are still in the office; this is likely the best time for him to make this call.
Che makes the connection with him almost immediately; he would not be surprised to learn she has a priority alert for him. He smiles, but it feels broken, and she is not fooled. “What happened,” she says.
“Nothing specific, Healer Che. I just, I thought I would ask.” Obi-Wan centers himself, steady. “I wanted to ask what will happen to my bonds, the healthy ones, should the worst come to pass.”
She stares at him, unblinking. “Oh, Obi-Wan.” He shakes his head, and she straightens. “I thought you might ask about this.”
“I remember–” he clears his throat. “I used to have one of these bonds. I felt a pull, when the person on the other end died, but I thought that was grief, at the time. It was not nearly as painful as I remember it being with Qui-Gon.” His bond with Cerasi felt like a sudden unraveling, painful but not debilitating. He remembers his bond with Qui-Gon shattering, ripping its way out of his mind. He will not consign his friends to that fate, not if he can help it. But he hadn’t been ready for either of those.
She shakes her head. “No, I believe you are adept at opening and closing the bonds. If you are able, it may help to close it as much as you can, before.” She looks away, and focuses back. This is why he contacted her. Her knowledge is soothing, her demeanor steady. "Quinlan and Mace are adults, and adept at handling bonds. From what you tell me, it won't feel the same, for Cody."
“And it won’t hurt them, if I prepare them?” Obi-Wan checks.
She smiles, and if Obi-Wan didn’t know any better, he’d think her eyes were shining. “Of course it will hurt them, Obi-Wan. But not in the way you fear.”
He’s curled into himself on his bunk when his comm chimes from the other end, where he’d tossed it after hanging up with Che. He ignores it. He may owe her an apology, but he doesn’t quite recall how the conversation ended. It chimes again, and again, until he hears an unfamiliar series of beeps and Mace flickers into view.
“I am blocking out the universe,” Obi-Wan says. “I didn’t know you could interrupt that.”
“Master of the Order has its privileges, one of which is an emergency override,” Mace says. Obi-Wan waves a hand to adjust the comm so Mace is not staring at the ceiling, but hides his face in his knees at the look of pity on Mace’s face. “What happened?” he asks.
“It’s not an emergency. I’m sure Che told you.”
“All Che told me was that you needed to talk to me, urgently.”
Obi-Wan lifts his head and wipes at his eyes. “I never said that.”
Mace smiles. “Well, healers do tend to understand us better than we do ourselves.”
Obi-Wan steels himself. “I think it may be best if you give me some solo missions after Geonosis.”
A raised eyebrow is the only sigh Mace gives of his surprise. “You have been very clear in your desire for the exact opposite.”
“Yes, well.” Obi-Wan looks away. “I am permitted to change my mind.”
Mace waits.
Obi-Wan imagines himself on a planet, alone, unable to complete a mission. He sighs. “You’re right, I suppose that’s not safe. Perhaps a recall to Coruscant. I’m sure that’s what Che prefers, anyway.”
“Did something happen with Fett?”
“No,” Obi-Wan says. “And yes.”
“Where is Cody? Or Vos?”
Obi-Wan tugs at his hair. “They’re busy.”
“Obi-Wan.” Obi-Wan can practically feel Mace’s exasperation, both over the holo call and through the bond.
Obi-Wan grips himself around his stomach. He doesn’t want Mace’s pity. Mace is busy too, Obi-Wan is certain. It’s not fair that he’s on a call, worrying about Obi-Wan. “Can I not just wallow, for a few minutes, without it becoming an event?”
Mace gestures to him, as if to say by all means, and Obi-Wan sighs. It devolves into a cough. Mace grimaces, but doesn't speak.
Obi-Wan clenches his fists, a chill passing over him. “Jango is not comfortable with the idea of Force bonds. Or Jedi being in love, it turns out.”
Mace rubs at his eyes. “So you told him. Everything?”
“I told him enough,” Obi-Wan says. “I knew better. Whatever he feels, it is not enough. I am not enough. I should have known.”
“Obi-Wan,” Mace begins.
“I don’t really want to talk about it anymore right now, Mace. I’d like to look forward.” Obi-Wan pulls Mace’s cloak across the room to himself, gripping it in his hands. “Please.”
Mace takes his own deep breath, running a hand over his head. “All right,” he says. “All right. I will be reaching you soon, anyway. We will be just a day or two behind you to Geonosis. Don’t think you can avoid me in person.”
Obi-Wan accepts the reprieve for what it is, and curls the cloak under his fingers. “You have my datapads?”
Mace smiles, rueful. “Of course I do,” he says. “Resettlement. Rebuilding. Plans upon plans. I will follow them to the letter.”
“You had better,” Obi-Wan says.
“Force be with you. Go wallow,” Mace says. Obi-Wan smiles. “I’ll see you soon.” He blinks out.
Obi-Wan does wallow, for just a while longer. He doesn’t leave his quarters, guiltily relieved when Cody says he’s not available for latemeal and Quinlan mentions a late night sparring with Waxer.
It’s sometime in the morning when he opens his gritty eyes again, a night of meditation and fitful sleep doing little to help his balance. He opens his comm to see an image of the med-bay, from Jango. It doesn’t make sense, and he’s rather inclined to ignore it, not quite ready for this wordless communication, but an uneasy undercurrent in the Force prompts him to send a return message.
Are you all right?
Another image comes back, this time of the back of a head, laying in a med-bed. It’s not me, comes Jango’s response. The head is clearly one of the troopers, though Obi-Wan can’t see enough detail to discern who. He hops up, centering himself. The Force is pressing at him, a note of danger souring in his gut. He sets aside his heartbreak, and heads into the hallway.