Archive of Our Own

'That's your ride.' Bo-Katan picked off two of the insurgents in the blink of an eye.

Obi-wan swallowed his qualms about redirecting blaster bolts back at their source, and quickly assessed the one ship that wasn't in flames. It would do. 'Right. I don't suppose you'd cover me while I make a run for it?'

She squinted along the muzzle of her blaster. 'Satine would never forgive me if I let you die.'

They spared a glance over their shoulders at the sound of pounding footsteps. 'I'm coming with you!' Korkie skidded to a stop and squeezed off a few wild rounds from the blaster in his hands. It was clear he had little experience firing one from a distance. Obi-wan felt the blood drain from his face, but now wasn't the time.

Bo-Katan's eyes darted from Obi-wan’s ashen face to Korkie’s wide-eyed one. 'Good. Get him out of here,' she muttered to Obi-wan. He could only nod back, mouth drier than the sands of Tatooine, inundated with a barrage of memories from Bo-Katan that he couldn't process at the moment. She peered at the platform and barked, 'Go!'

Obi-wan didn't need to be told twice. He grabbed Korkie's wrist and half-dragged him to the waiting ship. 'Can you fly this thing?' he shouted.

'Yes.'

'Good.' Obi-wan sprinted up the ramp and all but used the Force to fling Korkie into the pilot's seat. 'I'll make the calculations for hyperspace.'

'Where…?' The ship vibrated as it rose from the platform, shuddering from an onslaught blaster fire.

'I don't know yet. Just get us off Mandalore.' Korkie yanked on the controls and the ship shot toward the top of the dome over Sundari. Once they were safely out of the Mandalorian atmosphere, Obi-wan swiped through the navicomputer, searching for a nearby uninhabited planet or moon. He didn't know about Korkie, but he needed to gain his bearings so he could figure out what to do next. Ah… Perfect. He entered the coordinates to Yavin IV into the equation. The velvet black of space disappeared into a whorl of blue-white light. He looked at Korkie, staring out of the viewport, deathly pale under the scattering of freckles across the bridge of his nose. His fingers clutched at the controls so tightly his knuckles had gone white. Obi-wan reached over and gently pried his hands off the controls. 'You can let go now, son.' He winced. He hadn’t meant to say that. It slipped out on its own.

Korkie's hands fell into his lap. His head swivelled to take in Obi-wan. 'I'm Korkie, by the way. Satine's my aunt.' He lifted a hand and ruffled his hair with a somewhat sheepish expression. 'I don't know if you know that.'

'I know. She told me everything about you,’ he replied, suppressing another wince at the irony.

'She's gone, isn't she?' Korkie asked in a small voice.

Obi-wan closed his eyes for a moment, throat tightening. ‘I'm afraid so.'

The boy nodded jerkily, one hand rubbing his chest over his heart. He looked up. 'My apologies for barging in on your escape…' He trailed off, and his eyes unfocused. 'Something told me to run as fast as I could to that platform.' Korkie blinked rapidly and shook himself. 'Maybe it was auntie, taking care of me one last time,' he murmured almost inaudibly, brow furrowed.

Obi-wan's eyes stung with unshed tears. He willed himself to not let them spill. Not yet. 'I'm sure it was.' He hauled himself to his feet, aching in every muscle. 'I'm going to try and make contact with the Jedi Temple. I won't be long.' Korkie nodded absently, and Obi-wan trudged to the cramped common area. He keyed in Anakin's frequency, the one he called Fulcrum, hoping he hadn't been sent to a battle somewhere.

'Master?' Ahsoka's concerned face hovered over the transmitter.

'Ahsoka, are you at the Temple?’

‘Nnnnoooo. Padmé invited Anakin and me over for dinner, and...’

‘Get Anakin. Now.’ Obi-wan’s voice cracked. Ahsoka scurried away, retuning shortly with Anakin and Padmé in tow.

'Obi-wan!' The relief was palpable in Anakin's voice.

'Can you slip away for a few days?' Obi-wan didn't bother to hide the urgency in his own voice.

'Sure.' It was one of the few times Obi-wan was grateful for Anakin’s tendency toward recklessness and to regard rules as mere suggestions.

'They can use my ship,' Padmé piped up. 'Fewer questions than if you tried to take one of the Jedi shuttles,' she added.

'Good. Meet us on Yavin IV.'

Anakin, Padmé, and Ahsoka exchanged glances. 'Us…?' Ahsoka ventured.

'I have Korkie Kryze,' Obi-wan choked.

'And Satine?' Padmé asked tentatively, even though she could already see the answer on Obi-wan's face.

Obi-wan could only shake his head. He scrubbed his hands over his face. Breathe, damn you. Get it together, Obi-wan… 'I'll need one of you to go into my quarters. I need a change of clothes. And Korkie does, too. I don't know…'

'I'll handle it,' Padmé said firmly.

'Thank you. He's…' Obi-wan twisted to study Korkie through the open cockpit door, sitting stiffly in the pilot's seat. 'He's about the same size as Anakin a couple of years ago...' Padmé had already turned to speak with one of her handmaids.

'We'll see you as soon as we can.' Anakin reached to switch off the transmitter, then paused. 'Uh… what are you gonna do with Korkie?'

'I don't know yet,' Obi-wan admitted. 'I'm sure something will come to me.' He turned off the transmitter, then leaned back against the hard bench and let his eyes drift shut. A draft from the ship’s air circulator made a something brush against his cheek. He scowled down at the pauldron on his right shoulder. A few strands of blonde hair waved at him, caught in a fine crack running the length of the durasteel. Obi-wan plucked the hairs free and held them between his ungloved thumb and forefinger. An indistinct picture arose in his mind of Satine flying into his arms after he unlocked her cell. He didn’t have particularly strong Force precognition abilities, but he supposed the connection to Satine was rather strong enough to make up for it. All things considered, it was a minor miracle they were still there after everything that had happened since he opened her cell. It took a moment of poking his head into various doors to find the medbay and a medkit. He carefully slipped the strands of hair into a collection vial and stoppered it, following a nudge from the Force he didn't want to examine too closely just now.

He should meditate, if for no other reason than to ease the various physical discomforts and minor injuries sustained on Mandalore, but Korkie drew him back into the cockpit like a lodestone. He huddled in the pilot's seat, curled into a ball, with his arms wrapped tightly around his knees, gazing sightlessly out of the viewports. Obi-wan took the co-pilot's seat and swivelled it to face Korkie. 'We tried to save her,' Korkie said woodenly. 'Bo-Katan and I. We almost made it.' He convulsed once, then twice, forcing back the tears. 'Why her? Aunt Satine never…' His voice broke. 'If only we'd gone sooner...'

To inflict the most pain possible on one person, Obi-wan thought. And he succeeded. Everything else was just chaos. He couldn't tell Korkie that. Not today. Possibly not ever.

Korkie's harsh breathing filled the cockpit, the ragged exhalations coming faster and faster. Korkie's body uncoiled from his position, panic creeping into his eyes. Obi-wan laid his hands lightly over Korkie's. 'Look at me… Breathe…' In… Out… In… Out… Korkie's breathing gradually slowed until he could breathe normally and no longer looked as though he were about to puke on their boots. His face crumpled and he bent forward, shoulders shaking as he began to cry. Obi-wan made as if he were going to stroke Korkie's hair, then stopped himself. What would Satine do? He rested his hand on Korkie's back, rubbing slow circles between his shoulder blades. After a few moments, Korkie sat up, rubbing both hands over his face.

'My apologies, Master Kenobi…' he began. 'I…'

'You've had a rather trying day,' Obi-wan interrupted. 'No apologies are necessary. And my name is Obi-wan.'

'What?'

'Call me Obi-wan. Master Kenobi is somewhat too formal, given the circumstances.' Korkie nodded dumbly, the buzz of their escape starting to wear off. Obi-wan indicated the corridor behind them. 'Why don't you find a bunk and get some rest? I'll stay here and keep an eye on things.'

'Can you fly this?' Korkie didn't bother to hide the dubiousness in his voice.

Obi-wan chuckled. 'My dear boy… I can fly nearly anything the Republic has to offer from starfighters to cruisers. I can handle this.' Korkie nodded once, then shuffled to the row of small bunks, and stumbled into the first one.

Once the door closed behind Korkie, Obi-wan's shoulders slumped and his face fell. He was grateful Korkie taken his suggestion to find a bed, so he could quietly mourn Satine himself. He rearranged himself on the seat and reached for the Force. There is no emotion, there is peace… The words died in his throat, and Obi-wan buried his face in his hands. He couldn't recall a day when he hadn't used the words of the Code to focus his meditations. The words never more felt hollow than they did right now.

The ship skirted around the bulk of Yavin Prime, and Obi-wan headed for the fourth moon, scanning for somewhere they could land. And hopefully free of predators. He didn’t think he had the energy to hold off something that felt he and Korkie would make tasty midnight snacks. The hulking stone pyramid in the Massassi Valley seemed like a decent enough spot, and he couldn’t sense anything amiss about it.

Obi-wan landed on the edge of the clearing around the pyramid and left the cockpit, weariness dragging at his limbs. He stumbled into one of the unoccupied bunks and stripped down to his undershorts and then crawled onto the bed with a muffled groan without bothering to close the door.

He’d been beaten and tortured before, thanks to the war. He’d pushed himself to the brink of collapse and exhaustion. Used the Force in ways that rubbed against the grain of everything he’d ever been taught. People he loved had been murdered in front of him.

But it never hurt like this.

The glowing red numbers of the chrono mocked him as he watched the numbers march inexorably toward dawn.

Obi-wan turned onto his back, head pillowed on his stacked hands, and stared at the ceiling. When he tried to sleep, he replayed the moment the Darksaber pierced Satine’s body. So he stopped trying. Now, thoughts chased themselves around and around in his head. The simplest option would be to take Korkie back to Coruscant and put him in the university there. Coruscant was a densely populated planet. He could virtually disappear. Use another name. Obi-wan would be able to see the boy from time to time and monitor his progress.

But…

That walked dangerously close to forming the sort of attachment the Jedi forbade.

He could contact Bail Organa. Korkie could attend the university on Alderaan. The senator could keep him apprised of Korkie's welfare. It would raise a few eyebrows, to be sure, but Bail could honestly say he'd known Satine for years, and would look after her nephew as a means to honor her memory. It was more ideal than Coruscant, but it was still too close.

He wasn't convinced he could truly let Korkie go if he were on Alderaan.

The only viable option he could see was Stewjon, a world Obi-wan hadn't set foot on since he was three years old. He picked up the datapad and tapped the screen, worrying his lower lip between his teeth. His father had died over six years ago. His mother was a retired university professor. His siblings were married with children of their own. It wouldn't be terribly difficult to pass Korkie off as a cousin of some sort, even with the tang of Mando’a in his speech. He could continue to use Kryze if he desired. Or Kenobi. It, or some variation of it, weren't terribly uncommon names on Stewjon.

Obi-wan felt a twinge of guilt as he replaced the datapad in a charging dock. It felt as though he were trying to foist the boy on someone else. Which, in a way, he was. He blew out a long breath and turned on his side, facing away from the door. 'No attachments, Obi-wan,' he grunted.

The sound of a lowering ramp jolted Obi-wan from his reverie. He called his lightsaber to his outstretched hand and crept from the bunk on silent feet. A dark shape loomed in the equally dark corridor, and Obi-wan ignited his lightsaber, flooding the narrow space with blue light.

‘Obi-wan! It’s just me!’ Anakin held up both hands.

‘Must you wear such dark colors?’ Obi-wan lowered his lightsaber, and flicked the fingers of his free hand at a panel to switch on the dim overhead light.

‘It looks good on me.’ Anakin gave him a lopsided grin and motioned to Obi-wan’s conspicuous lack of clothes. ‘Nice outfit.’

Obi-wan tugged at the waistband of his undershorts, hitching them higher over his hips. ‘Did you bring what I asked you?’

Anakin handed over a bulging rucksack. ‘I just hope I look that good in my underwear when I’m as old as you,’ he smirked.

‘I’m thirty-six,’ Obi-wan grumbled. ‘Hardly ancient.’ He snatched the rucksack from Anakin and stalked to the ‘fresher. It was one of those communal versions, with six shower heads in a single large cubicle. He turned on the water for one the shower heads as hot as he could stand and stood under the spray, letting the water pound his muscles into goo.

‘Obi-wan...?’ Anakin trailed off. The walls of the shower cubicle only came up to the middle of Obi-wan's chest and the brighter lights revealed the extent of Obi-wan’s injuries. The sight of his battered and bruised body drew Anakin up short. The injuries were superficial, but they were a testament to Obi-wan's emotional state if he hadn't been able to meditate and heal them.

A pungent Huttese curse that suggested Anakin do something that was anatomically impossible got lost among the sound of water splashing on the durasteel floor. Obi-wan raked his wet hair from his eyes in order to glare at his former Padawan. ‘Anakin, I realize privacy is a concept more honored in the breach than the observance among the Jedi...’

‘What? I’m on the other side of the cubicle door,’ Anakin pointed out. ‘And if we’re gonna be honest, you don’t have anything to be ashamed of.’ He flashed an impudent grin. ‘Just sayin’.’

‘Do you have something you’d like to say?’ Obi-wan groped along the wall until he found the soap dispenser.

‘I ran into Yoda when I went to get your clothes.’

Obi-wan made a noncommittal noise in the back of his throat and ducked his head under the water.

‘Actually, I overheard Yoda and Mace talking. I hid behind a pillar so they didn’t see me.’

Obi-wan made a circular motion with his hand. Get to the point, Anakin.

‘Mace said it was the will of the Force...’

Obi-wan’s eyes flew open. He bit the inside of his cheek so he didn’t blurt just where Mace could shove his will of the Force. He wasn’t one to question the Force. That was for people like Qui-gon, who had a much more mystical bent than he, but he was sorely tempted to question it now. He turned his back to Anakin, murmuring, ‘I’m sure he did.’ He stayed there, watching the water swirl around the drain until Anakin heaved a sigh and left.

Obi-wan forced himself to switch off the water, dry himself, then dig through the knapsack for his clothes. As he adjusted the lines of the layered tunics he could hear the echo of Satine's voice whisper across the back of his mind. It reminds me who you really are…

He was a Jedi Master.

He pulled the billowing folds of the robes over his arms, almost expecting to feel something snap back into place, like a dislocated joint. Facing a mirror, Obi-wan drew the hood over his head and slid his hands into the wide sleeves.

Regardless of what he might want for Korkie, there was only one decision he could make.

Anakin slid bowls filled with a breakfast neither Korkie nor Obi-wan particularly wanted across the table. They both gave the bowls of topato stew nearly identical glances of distaste. Still, they needed to eat, so Obi-wan dutifully picked up a spoon and forced down a bite. This was one of the few things Anakin could cook well, but it might have been a bowl full of paste and bits of foamcast as far as Obi-wan was concerned. He set his spoon down and took in a deep breath. ‘I’m going to take you to Stewjon,’ he told Korkie.

The uneasy pause was merely the calm before the storm.

‘Why? Why can’t I go to Coruscant? I can enroll in the university there.' Korkie's brows drew together in a mulish glower.

Obi-wan began to massage his temples. It was far too early in the morning for this. He couldn't really blame Korkie. A relative backwater like Stewjon came in a far distant second place to the excitement of Coruscant. Anakin snickered, and leaned closer to Ahsoka, then whispered in her ear. ‘Finally. Someone other than me is making Obi-wan crazy...’ She clapped a hand over her mouth so as not to spew tea all over the kitchen area.

Obi-wan shot Anakin a narrow-eyed glare, then continued. ‘Stewjon is my... it’s my homeworld. My family is there. I’m going to ask them to look after you.’ He picked up the mug of tea Ahsoka had given him and sipped it. In normal circumstances, it would be revoltingly sweet, but at this moment he drank it gratefully. ‘If Death Watch discovers you escaped with me, Coruscant is the first place they will look for you.’ He took another sip of tea. ‘Besides that, I’m a Jedi. I spend just as much time off Coruscant as I do on it. I can’t look after you properly, and Satine...’.

‘I’m not a child, and I don’t need looking after,’ Korkie ground out. ‘And it doesn’t have to be you, even if you and Aunt Satine were old friends.’

'Cuyir shev'la!' Obi-wan said sharply, slapping the table with an open hand hard enough to make the dishes on it rattle. Anakin and Ahsoka stilled. Anakin could count on one hand how many times Obi-wan had lost his temper like that in all the years he'd known him. Korkie's lips pressed together, surprised to hear fluent Mando'a come so easily from the mouth of a Jedi. But he stopped talking, which was what Obi-wan wanted. The silence weighed on them, as stifling and thick as the jungle humidity outside.

At some unspoken cue, Anakin jumped up and grasped Ahsoka by the arm, even though he wanted nothing more than to stay and watch it all unfold, but Obi-wan desperately wanted privacy. He could give him that much. 'Come on, Snips. I saw an area where we can practice your lightsaber technique.'

'For the last time, Skyguy, I'm not changing my grip,' Ahsoka protested. Anakin comically widened his eyes, then looked deliberately at Obi-wan, then Korkie. 'Right. My technique.' They trooped from the ship with alacrity, leaving Obi-wan alone with Korkie.

Obi-wan set the scanner from his field kit on the table. 'We need to talk.' He waited until he could hear the faint humming of lightsabers outside. 'Satine wasn't your aunt,' he began haltingly. 'She was your… mother…' Korkie's mouth fell open. 'And well... I… I'm your… Your father…'

'That's not true,' Korkie spluttered. ‘That’s impossible.’

Obi-wan withdrew a sample vial from his pocket. He carefully shook out a single strand of hair and reached for the analyzer. He slid it into the small opening and set it to analyze it for DNA. When Satine's DNA analysis was through, he pricked his finger, squeezing out a single drop of blood, and ran a second analysis, then pushed it toward Korkie. 'Go ahead… Compare your DNA to ours.'

‘That hair could have been from anybody,’ Korkie protested.

‘I swear to you, it’s Satine’s.’ Obi-wan nearly sat on both hands so Korkie couldn’t accuse him of using the mind trick. Not that it would work on him anyway. He's definitely your son, my dear, he said silently to Satine. He would try to change the galaxy by force of will alone if he could.

Korkie glared at the scanner before he pricked his own finger and let a drop of blood fall into it. ‘Only to prove it's completely ridiculous,' he declared. The scanner chirruped softly and he looked down, the heightened color fading from his face. 'No,' he murmured. 'No…' Blotchy spots of color appeared on his cheeks. 'That would mean she lied to me my entire life.' He slowly lifted his eyes to bore into Obi-wan's. 'Did you know?' The staccato words sliced into Obi-wan.

'I knew of you,' he admitted quietly. 'I knew Satine brought a child to live with her.' The hard light in Korkie’s eyes intensified. ‘She hid that we were your biological parents to protect us. I would have been expelled from the Order, and the only life I knew. Satine already trod upon a dangerous path when she led Mandalore into pacifism. She would have been declared dar’manda had anyone been aware of the true nature of our relationship. And your life would have been in danger if anyone on Mandalore suspected you might be Force sensitive, much less the child of one of the hated Jedi. Telling the galaxy you were her nephew was by far the safest option.’ He ran a fingertip over the rim of his mug. 'I didn't know you were my son until recently.'

‘How long have you known?’

Obi-wan peered into the mug cradled between his hands. ‘She told me about a year ago. When Death Watch tried to assassinate her.'

‘Does anyone else know?’

Obi-wan slouched into himself, honing in on one of Bo-Katan's memories, shaded with razor-sharp fury and burning rage that Satine was carrying the child of a cursed Jedi. They might have managed to patch over the rift in their relationship, even with their disparate beliefs, but Satine willingly giving birth to such a child was beyond the pale for Bo-Katan. They never spoke, nor saw one another again until Bo-Katan and Korkie tried to rescue Satine. ‘Bo-Katan does,’ he sighed. 'But I sincerely doubt she will say anything.' He drank his rapidly cooling tea, deep in thought, rubbing his chin. ‘I think my Master, Qui-gon, guessed when you were about four years old,’ he said slowly, recalling the subtly probing questions Qui-gon had asked. 'And he's been dead for over ten years now. Other than that…' He shrugged. Something about the way Anakin seemed to look through Korkie gave Obi-wan pause. Anakin might been wrapped up in his own personal issues, but he wasn't a fool, nor was he blind. He planned to leave it be unless Anakin brought it up. And knowing Anakin, he was going to bring it up sooner or later.

‘Then Coruscant shouldn’t be a problem.’ Korkie crossed his arms over his chest, glaring defiant daggers at the man who turned his entire existence upside down with a few short sentences. ‘Unless you think the Jedi Order will toss out one of the galaxy’s heroes on his ear.’

Obi-wan shook his head. ‘It isn’t the Order that concerns me.’ He buried his nose into his mug to hide the tightening of his mouth. He was a terrible liar. If Yoda and Mace didn’t summarily drum him out — or throw him off the Council — for gross disobedience on top of fathering a child, he’d eat Yoda’s cooking for a month. ‘I should like to keep who you are a secret from certain people on Coruscant outside the Order.’ He wanted to keep Korkie as far from Chancellor Palpatine’s notice as possible. The longer he held the chancellor’s office, the more unease Obi-wan felt about him. It was bad enough he had sunk his claws into Anakin, and Obi-wan didn’t know how to extricate him without causing more emotional trauma to Anakin than he’d already suffered. He certainly didn't want to subject Korkie to Palpatine's dubious attentions.

He started to slide from the bench, then paused. ‘Had Satine informed me she was pregnant with my child I would have left the Jedi without a backward glance or a single regret.’ His hand jerked in an arrested motion, but he forced it to stay at his side. ‘For the both of you,’ he added pointedly, then left the ship himself, in search of quiet to meditate.

Two upraised fingers slashed through the air, and the recording stopped. Obi-wan pinched the bridge of his nose to ward off an incipient headache. He'd spent the better part of an hour trying to record a message to the mother he didn't know, begging her to take in the son he didn't know he had until somewhat recently. ‘This is stupid…' he groaned and fell back across the bed, hands covering his face. 'What should I do, Satine?'

Despite his conviction Stewjon was the best choice, the easiest course of action by far would be to merely contact Bail, and ask him to meet them on Alderaan. Korkie was right. He didn’t need looking after. He needed guidance. Some of the finest minds in the galaxy lived on Alderaan. If Korkie ever wanted to try and retake Mandalore and continue Satine’s legacy, Alderaan would put him in an excellent position to do so.

He propelled himself to his feet and headed for the kitchen area. Cupboard doors opened and closed with a slashing wave of his hand. He could do with a drink. The stiffer the better.

'Looking for this?'

Obi-wan froze, then peered through the gloom of the dimly-lit space. Korkie sat at the small table, an open bottle in front of him. 'How much of that have you had?'

'Not nearly enough,' Korkie muttered. 'I can still see straight.'

Obi-wan straddled the chair opposite Korkie, and snagged the bottle. He poured a shot for himself and tossed it back without tasting it. 'Are you even old enough to drink this?'

Korkie let out a hoot of derisive laughter. 'Does it matter?'

Obi-wan refilled his glass. 'I suppose it doesn't right now.'

Kokie drew random patterns on the tabletop with his finger. 'Why do you care so much?'

'About the amount of alcohol you've consumed or in general?'

'About where I end up. You never bothered before, and I survived for eighteen years without you. You could drop me anywhere. I’ll be fine.'

Obi-wan lifted the glass to his mouth and took a sip. He let his slide down his throat before speaking. 'How much do you know about the Jedi?'

'You can do things with your mind.' Korkie drank the contents of his glass with a shudder. 'And you serve the Republic. Keeping the peace on the edge of a laser sword.' He gave Obi-wan a sardonic grimace. 'Which is more than ninety-nine percent of Mandalore knows. Korkie spun his glass on the table. ‘She insisted that I learn everything I could about the Jedi. Not that she had to twist my arm. I read everything I could get my hands on, and she encouraged it.’ He refilled his glass and raised it to his mouth. ‘Never thought to question why before.’ He eyed Obi-wan over the rim of the glass. ‘Makes sense now.’

'We're supposed to eschew forming emotional attachments, lest they interfere with our ability to carry out our missions.’ He tilted the glass this way and that, watching the light flare on the surface of the whiskey. 'Let's just say she and I formed an attachment of the sort the Jedi forbid.'

'So my existence would suggest.'

'When we went our separate ways, we did so because our respective duties took precedence over our feelings.' Obi-wan let another sip of whiskey roll around his tongue before it slipped down his throat. 'We were well aware of the consequences if I stayed on Mandalore with her. So it was never part of the discussion.' He examined the amber surface of the liquid in his glass. 'I have no doubt that if Satine and I had remained in our relationship, even as mere friends, she would have been far more successful than I in maintaining boundaries.' He drained the glass and refilled it, keeping his eyes locked on the stream of whiskey as it flowed from the bottle. 'I should have heeded my own training. Satine died because someone exploited my feelings for her.' He shook his head. 'I refuse to put you in a situation where that same person could use you against me, like he did with Satine.’ He lifted the glass to his mouth. ‘I care very much what happens to you,’ he said, throttling back the harshness in his voice.

‘Only because of auntie...’ Korkie gulped and averted his face. ‘My mother.’ The word felt strange and alien on his tongue.

‘Partially,’ Obi-wan admitted. He doubted he would ever forget the unholy glee he felt from Maul as Satine fell to the floor. ‘I could never forgive myself if something similar were to happen to you.'

He lurched to his feet and strode back to his bunk and closed the door behind him, then waved a hand at the recorder. 'This is for Camile Kenobi… It's… It's Obi-wan… ' He perched on the edge of the bed. 'I know I haven't the right to ask anything of you, but the boy that brought you this message needs sanctuary…' He let out a long, slow breath. 'I'm rather getting ahead of myself, aren't I?

'The boy is my son. Korkie. His mother was Duchess Satine Kryze of Mandalore. The Jedi Council assigned my Master, Qui-gon Jinn, and me to protect her in the waning days of the Mandalorian civil war of about twenty years ago. Satine and I became… close… Due to our respective responsibilities, and the antagonism between the Mandalorians and the Jedi, she kept his parentage a secret from everyone, including me. First and foremost, she wanted to prevent another civil war on Mandalore and protect Korkie. They're not very fond of the Jedi in general on Mandalore. Thousands of years of conflict will do that.' He shifted a little. 'And she chose to keep his existence a secret from me so I wouldn't have to decide to leave the Order. If I'd known, I would have left. But that would also have invited a host of difficulties on Mandalore. As you can see, it was a difficult situation all around.

'Satine wasn't a youthful dalliance or a thoughtless indiscretion. I loved her more than anyone and anything. And I still do. I imagine I always will.

'Mandalore has fallen to a faction known as Death Watch. I was able to help Korkie escape.' Obi-wan passed his hand across his eyes. 'But Satine… Satine was killed.’

He studied the edge of a broken fingernail until he felt he could speak once more.

‘He is a good lad. Satine once described him as the best of both of us. She was right. As usual.

'Korkie needs... He needs... Somewhere to call home. Whether it’s with you or he strikes off on his own. As much as I want to provide that, I cannot. Especially not now...’ Obi-wan looked away. 'This is the last place anyone will look for Korkie. The person responsible for his mother's death would not hesitate to harm him in order to exact revenge for… It's not important why, just that this particular individual will stop at nothing to harm people I…' He swallowed past the sudden lump in his throat. 'Love.' He pressed the pad of his thumb against the edge of the broken nail, and opened his mouth to say something more, but stopped.

He turned off the recording and ejected the recording disc.

Mist hung in ragged sheets, enveloping the trees and muffling the sounds of birdsong. Obi-wan crept down the ramp, and found a spot under the dripping branches, then turned to face West. He hoped he didn't muck this up too badly. He didn't think Satine would mind if he did. He grasped the hood of his robes, intending to pull it over his head, when the snap of a twig breaking under the sole of a boot made him turn. Korkie stood a few meters behind him, frozen into place with a look of mingled chagrin and alarm. 'I was only coming out to…' Korkie stammered.

'I imagine you've come for the same purpose.' Obi-wan indicated the space next to him, and settled his hood over his head. Korkie joined him, hands clasped in front of him, head bowed. He gave Korkie a brief nod as a signal, and they began to chant the words of Mandalorian remembrance. 'Ni su'cuyi, gar kyr'adyc. Ni partayli, gar darasuum.' Obi-wan added in Basic, 'I'm still alive, but you are dead. I remember you, so you are eternal.' His throat burned, but once more, Obi-wan shoved the emotions aside. Soon, he promised himself. They both murmured Satine's name, then stood, breathing in the scent of the damp, loamy soil.

'Did auntie…' Korkie cleared his throat. 'Erm, my mother… teach you that?'

'Yes.' Obi-wan pushed his hood back. The sun peeped over the horizon, sending streaks of light through the mist.

Korkie shoved his hands into his pockets. 'She said it for you, you know. When the Jedi faked your death,' he remarked.

Obi-wan winced. 'I know.' He turned to go back into Padmé's ship when Korkie's voice stopped him.

'A few years before the war started, she and I would get into these awful fights. I accused her of erasing my parents, because there were no holos of them at all, and she never talked about them, even though one of them was supposedly her sibling.' He shrugged with one shoulder. 'Something else that makes more sense now.' He began to create a divot in the soil with the toe of his boot. Korkie tilted his head back, then sighed and continued, 'That's when she started telling me about my father. She would describe him and tell me things like… I had the same hair color, or I was as intelligent as he was. That I had his sense of curiosity. And righteous indignation. That he went away to school when he was young, too. That's also when she started teaching me how to fly. I asked her who taught her, and she said my father did. I drank in every detail like it was water and I was dying of thirst.' Korkie gave Obi-wan a pensive glance. 'She told me his name was Ben.'

A faint flush of pink stole into Obi-wan's cheeks. 'Did she?'

Korkie's brows drew together with suspicion. 'Did she call you that?'

Obi-wan pulled the edges of his robes together. 'When we were alone, yes.'

Korkie's face screwed up with disgust at the obvious euphemism. 'Ew.'

'You did ask,' Obi-wan pointed out. He saw Anakin and Ahsoka emerge from the ship, Anakin grumpy as always when forced to wake up early in the morning. He met them in the middle of the clearing, facing the Mandalorian ship. 'I want to destroy that ship when we leave.'

'You want to do what?' Anakin's eyes bugged with undisguised surprise.

'I'll take the Mandalorian ship into space, connect it with the airlock on Padmé's, then once I'm safely aboard, you can destroy it.' Obi-wan pointed to Padmé's ship. 'It does have laser cannons, does it not?'

'Well… yeah, but…' Anakin scratched the back of his neck. 'Why?'

'It's too conspicuous. I can't take Korkie to my homeworld in it. I can't send you and Ahsoka back to Coruscant in it.' Obi-wan gazed at the blue-and-white design on the wings, a line deepening between his brows. 'I can't just leave it here, either.'

'And it belonged to Death Watch,' Korkie remarked behind them, distaste dripping from his voice. He studied the craft, the side of his forefinger skating across his chin. 'We saw them when Death Watch came. Dozens of them over Sundari. And then the world as I knew it ended…' He blinked then blew out a forceful breath. 'It has an autopilot. Can't we set it to fly out of the atmosphere and overload its cannons?' He wrapped his arms around himself. 'As much as I would love to pull the trigger myself, aunt…' His voice cracked. 'Auntie would be appalled if I did…'

'We should be able to.' Obi-wan bumped Anakin's shoulder with his own. 'You're the expert here. Will it work?'

Anakin frowned. 'I'll have to look at the settings, but it shouldn't be too hard to reprogram if I can't set a specific time for it to fly. If I do it right, by the time it blows, we can be in hyperspace and well away from here.'

'When can you have it done?'

Anakin shrugged. 'Couple of hours. Maybe more. Maybe less.' He took a few steps toward the ship. 'I'll have to check the configurations of the cannons,' he mused. 'See if I can't program them to initiate an overload when the ship's in orbit…' He glanced over his shoulder at Obi-wan. 'After breakfast.'

Yes, because you're withering away to nothing in front of my very eyes,' Obi-wan snorted. 'You certainly made enough topato stew yesterday to feed a legion of clone troopers.'

'He always does,' Ahsoka said with a touch of resignation.

'Hey. Rex likes it.'

'Rex'll eat anything that doesn't eat him first,' Ahsoka scoffed. 'I swear his stomach's lined with durasteel.' She held Anakin back as Korkie and Obi-wan returned to the ship. 'We're going to be a in a lot of trouble when we get back to Coruscant, aren't we?'

'Probably.' Anakin flashed a cheeky grin. 'What else is new?'

Ahsoka huffed with exasperation. 'Anakin…'

'I came out here because it's Obi-wan.' He watched Obi-wan trudge up the ramp. 'He was the only one in the Order who gave a womp rat's ass if I lived or died when I first became a Padawan.' Ahsoka gave him a look of open incredulity. 'Nobody said it, Ahsoka. But they certainly felt that way. And I could sense it.' He fiddled with one of the buckles on the elbow-length glove that covered his cybernetic prosthesis. 'Everyone kept expecting him to fail because he’d only been a Knight for two seconds when they said he could train me, and I was too old to be a youngling and too young to be a Padawan. He believed I could become a Jedi when no one else did.' He crossed his arms over his chest and exhaled. 'I owe him this, Snips.' Beneath Obi-wan's calm facade, Anakin could feel the tumult of emotion. It was an unusual reversal. Anakin normally struggled with bringing his feelings into balance, rather than Obi-wan. He headed for the ramp. 'Besides, if I know Obi-wan, he's gonna punish himself a lot more than Yoda or Mace ever could.'

'That's not the Jedi way,' Ahsoka retorted quietly.

'It's not?' Anakin gestured with his chin toward Padmé's ship. 'You and I both know what that kid is to Obi-wan.' Ahsoka opened her mouth to protest, but tilted her head to the side to signal her assent. 'He's about to send him to the other end of the galaxy, and never see or contact him again. Because no attachments,' he added bitterly. 'Tell me what Yoda or Mace could do that's worse than that.'

Korkie peeped around the edge of the doorframe into the cockpit. Obi-wan sprawled in the pilot's seat, swathed in that brown robe he wore like armor against the galaxy. 'The first moment I met Satine, she insulted me,' Obi-wan remarked, without looking up from the datapad in his hands. He motioned to the co-pilot's seat. 'I know you're there, Korkie.'

He slid into the seat with a slightly abashed look on his face. 'Was that some Jedi…?'

'No.' Obi-wan glanced up from the datapad. 'I could hear you.' The corner of his mouth tilted up in a wry smile. 'I've been on enough ships with Anakin and Ahsoka to know the sound of their footsteps. Mere process of elimination.'

Korkie pushed his toes against the floor to rotate the seat from side to side. 'She insulted you?'

'Every chance she got.' One of Obi-wan's brows rose. 'She said it was good for me. Otherwise my head would get too large to fit through doors.'

'That sounds like something she would say.' Korkie studied the console. 'She said some of her favorite memories were from that year.'

'We did have a few good ones,' Obi-wan mused. 'More than a few…' The floodgates opened, and he regaled Korkie with some of his most precious memories from that mission. Their early Mando'a lessons. Her utterly revolting attempts at cooking. The day she hauled off and punched him in the nose hard enough to make it bleed while she practiced self-defense methods. How she liked food spicy enough to make him break into a sweat just looking at it. The hours they spent learning different dances in order to work together as a unit. He was so engrossed with his tales, he didn't notice Ahsoka and Anakin sitting in the corridor, listening with rapt expressions on their faces. It was a side of Obi-wan they never saw. He held the datapad, out to Korkie. 'This is everything she ever sent to me about you. Every vid. Every holo. Messages. And a few holos of Satine and me from before. I thought you might want to have them.'

Korkie took the datapad with a murmured word of thanks, scrolling through the holos until he found one of him with Satine just a few months ago. He traced the contours of her face with a trembling fingertip. 'Ni partayli.'

Obi-wan smiled a little wistfully. He'd managed to access his personal archive and copy the items to the datapad Korkie held. From the holo of Korkie just after he was born and the vid of Korkie taking his first steps to the final holo he'd received of Satine and Korkie. He then purged the archive of every scrap of data related to Satine and Korkie, telling himself it was for the best. He didn't need the files anyway. They were written in his heart.

If Obi-wan shut his eyes, he could easily imagine the war didn't exist. Not here, where the scent of sun-warmed ripening fruit and herbs permeated the breeze. It was a primarily agrarian world with acres upon acres of orchards and farms, on the outer edge of the Mid Rim, far enough away from other systems to render it unsuitable for a forward base.

In other words, it was perfect.

Obi-wan left his hood down as he walked with Korkie to the end of the lane that led to the Kenobi villa. 'You will be safe here.'

Korkie huffed, hunching his shoulders and dragged his feet a little, kicking up puffs of dust under the soles of his boots. 'You don't know that.'

'Safer than you would be on Coruscant,' Obi-wan allowed. 'Here, you're just another Kenobi.'

'If she takes me in,' Korkie reminded him. He stopped, hands fisted at his sides. 'What if she doesn't…?'

'She will.'

'But if she doesn't?' he persisted.

Obi-wan repressed the urge to massage his temples. It had given Anakin no small measure of joy to see someone else elicit that reaction from him. 'Then I have an alternate plan.' He patted Korkie on the shoulder. ‘Why don’t we let this one play out first, hmm?’

He stopped at the end of the sweeping lane and pulled a small parcel from an inside pocket of the brown robes. ‘It’s a message. Give it to my mother, and only my mother.’

Korkie stowed it in the satchel slung over a shoulder. ‘What do I tell her?’

‘Just say that Obi-wan sent you.’

'Aren't you coming with me?'

Obi-wan smiled a little sadly and shook his head. This had to be a clean break, such as it was. He couldn't afford to let his emotions influence his decisions again. He slipped a comlink into Korkie's hand. 'I have no doubt my mother will welcome you, but contact me all the same. I'll wait with the speeder.' He watched as Korkie disappeared among the drooping tree branches that lined the lane, then backtracked the few hundred meters to the speeder bike and settled amidst the tall waving grass and tilted his face up to the sun, letting the warmth seep into his bones.

For the first time since Satine died in his arms he felt something approaching peace settle within him, knowing Korkie would be as safe as he could make him. Have I done enough, Satine? Some of the knots in his back and shoulders loosened their grip on his muscles. The only thing keeping him upright at this point was a combination of the Force and adrenaline, but he was going to run out of adrenaline soon. He wondered if Anakin and Ahsoka would think him rude if he slept the entire journey back to Coruscant.

Korkie wiped his sweaty palms down the sides of his trousers before he jabbed the door chime. He shifted from one foot to the other as he considered and ultimately rejected running back to Obi-wan and telling him that his mother slammed the door in his face.

The door slid open, and a tall woman blinked as a shaft of bright sunlight streaked across her face. ‘Obi-wan...?’ She lifted a hand to shield her face and smiled. ‘Forgive me. For a moment I thought you were…’ She shook herself. ‘Never mind.’

‘I’m Korkie…' He hesitated, then added with a gulp, 'Korkie K-k-kenobi.'

Camile stared at him as though she'd seen a ghost. 'I beg your pardon?'

Korkie refrained from smacking himself on the face. This was not going the way he'd rehearsed it on the walk from the speeder to the door. 'Are you Camile Kenobi?' When she nodded, he fumbled in the satchel for the slim parcel Obi-wan gave him and thrust it at Camile. ‘Obi-wan sent me. He said to give you this.’ She stared at him with the most peculiar expression as she took the parcel. ‘Have I got something on my face?’ He reflexively rubbed the back of his hand under his nose.

Camile turned the parcel over in her hands. ‘You just look remarkably like my son Obi-wan when he was younger,' she said slowly. 'Around when the Trade Federation blockaded Naboo.’

'I'm afraid I don't remember it. I was only seven at the time.'

She stepped to the side. ‘Would you like to come inside? It’s hot, and you look as though you could use something cool to drink.’ She led Korkie into a sun-drenched kitchen. ‘I haven’t seen Obi-wan in person since he was three years old, and the Jedi came for him...’ Korkie hovered in the doorway while she poured something into a glass and pressed it into his hand. ‘I’ve followed his adventures from afar, though.’

‘Why?’ Korkie blurted. Camile pinned him with a look not unlike one he’d often seen on Satine’s face when he did something ill-advised.

‘Just because I willingly gave my son to the Jedi, it doesn’t mean I was willing to forget him.’ She held up the parcel. ‘You said this was from Obi-wan?’ At Korkie’s nod, Camile opened it and tipped the disc into her hand. She slipped it into the holopod and let out a breathless, ‘Oh...’ when a blue-tinted hologram of Obi-wan appeared. The hollow-eyed man in the hologram bore little resemblance to the suave and urbane Jedi Master she saw on HoloNet reports.

The brief message ended, and Camile immediately replayed it. It flickered and faded when the recording finished playing. She turned her gaze to Korkie, still clutching the glass. 'Have you seen this?' He mutely shook his head. Camile removed the disk from the pod and slipped it back into its case. 'What do you want to do?'

'I… uh…' The ability to form words in coherent sentences seemed to have escaped him.

'Clearly Obi-wan wishes for you to stay here. At least for a while. We could get to know one another. There's plenty of room here, and the university's not terribly far.' Camile frowned a little. 'Although unless you have a keen interest in farming or botany, there's not much else to choose from. Pitfalls of living on an agrarian planet. Or… You can apply for a university program elsewhere. Indulge an old woman and spend your holidays here. You don't have to decide this very moment. Next term doesn't begin for a few more months. Or you can apply for the term after that.'

Korkie looked down at the glass in his hand, almost surprised to see it there. He suddenly felt very, very tired. And very, very young, despite his protestations to Obi-wan that he wasn't a child. And then he felt it. The same impulse inside his head that sent him running to the platform where he met Bo-Katan and Obi-wan compelled him to say, 'I think I'd like to stay here… for now…'

'Is Obi-wan still here?'

Korkie gestured in the direction where he and Obi-wan had left the speeder bike. 'He said he'd wait until you decided one way or another.' He held up the comlink. 'I'm to contact him…' He didn't get to finish the rest of the sentence before Camile took him by the elbow and the comlink clattered to the tiled floor.

'We're going to tell him you're staying in person.' She plucked the untouched glass from his hand, and towed him back to the front door, grumbling under her breath in a way that was so like Satine, Korkie couldn't help but form a crooked grin. In the next breath, a sob welled up in his throat. Camille glanced back and veered to a bench in the foyer. She drew him down to sit beside her and tucked his head against her shoulder. To his horror, Korkie couldn't keep the tears at bay any longer, no matter how hard he tried. He made a half-hearted attempt to pull away, mortified as tears and snot soaked the shoulder of her tunic. But the arm around his shoulders was firm, yet comforting, and her fingers stroked through his hair, just like Satine had done when he was a child.

The angle of the sun slanting through the window had changed significantly by the time Korkie straightened, swiping his hands over his face. Camile squeezed his hand and directed him to the small 'fresher just off the foyer to wash the tearstains from his face. She couldn't blame him, given that he'd lost his mother and his home roughly a week ago, only to be deposited on a strange planet to live with a relative he'd never met. Little wonder he seemed out of sorts and uncertain of himself. Even if he hadn't been Obi-wan's child, she couldn't bear to turn him away.

The sudden shadow slanting across his face made Obi-wan's eyes snap open. Korkie stood next to a woman, who wore her silver hair swept back from a face he'd only ever seen in dreams. Obi-wan pushed himself to his feet bowed deeply. ‘My lady,’ he murmured. He straightened, keeping his hands clasped tightly together inside the sleeves of his robes, hoping he didn't betray the apprehensiveness he felt.

Camile laid her hand along Obi-wan's cheek. Despite his outwardly calm demeanor, she couldn't miss the taut lines of his face.

Her touch was soft and gentle. ‘Obi-wan...’ she breathed. He closed his eyes and leaned ever-so-slightly into the caress, then felt an aura of warm assurance envelop him like an embrace. You needn't worry about him, it said. He'll be loved and well-cared for here.

He didn't trust himself to speak, but gave his mother a short nod, then lifted one hand to briefly touch the back of hers with his fingertips.

She turned and laid a hand on Korkie's arm, and murmured something too soft for Obi-wan to hear, but the hand that cupped Korkie's face was just as soft and gentle as it had been on his. Camile then began to walk back to the house ruminating on the cyclical nature of life. A Jedi took her son away, only for a Jedi to deliver her grandson to her.

Korkie took a few steps in her wake, and then pivoted back to Obi-wan and threw his arms around him.

Obi-wan hesitated for a moment before winding one arm around Korkie’s shoulders. He wasn't a physically demonstrative sort, but he cupped the back of Korkie’s head with his other hand. Obi-wan turned his head and pressed a kiss to his son’s temple, the only fatherly gesture he would ever be able to make. The moment was fleeting and indelibly seared into Obi-wan’s memory. ‘Time to go,’ he murmured. Korkie released him, then strode back to the villa, with a hint of Mandalorian swagger.

Obi-wan watched him disappear into the lengthening shadows of the trees that lined the lane, wrapping the edges of his robes tight against his body.

He mounted the bike and returned to the ship, where Anakin lounged on the ramp, waiting, basking in the setting sun, seemingly impervious to the heat. Anakin rose to his feet as Obi-wan walked the bike inside. 'He's staying, huh?'

'Yes.'

Anakin's face twisted with bewilderment. 'You're just gonna let him go that easily?'

Obi-wan put the bike away before replying. He straightened his robes to buy himself some time to calm his emotions, then smoothed his disordered hair and ran his palms over his beard. When he did turn to face Anakin, his face was as impassive as Mace Windu's. 'On the contrary, Anakin. It was one of the hardest things I've ever done.'