FIC: We'll Be Good in Another Life ~ Star Wars ~ Jango/Obi-Wan & Din/Boba ~ Mature ~ Part 1/2

[batsutousai]

Title: We'll Be Good in Another Life
Fandom: Star Wars
Author: Batsutousai
Rating: Mature
Pairings: Jango Fett/Obi-Wan Kenobi, Din Djarin/Boba Fett
Warnings: Asexual!Jango, Asexual!Boba, two Bobas (oh no), time travel, Jango's issues with jedi, internalised clonephobia, Jango is actually a good dad, little bit of hurt/lotta comfort, relationship struggles, pro-jedi (although Jango has some opinions)
Summary: The fight between Obi-Wan Kenobi and Jango Fett on Kamino is ended by the appearance of two new Mandalorians, who claim to be from the future.

A/N: For day 2 of JangObi Week, the prompt is time travel. I also gave myself a challenge to write only ace!Jango for this week. (&, since no one can stop me, Boba is also ace.)

There I was, getting out of the bath, and this idea just...slammed me upside the head and wouldn't shut up. (To the point that it's fucking massive, wtf, muse?) So.
Spoiler warnings for season 2 of The Mandalorian, with some minor changes to the end of The Rescue (idk, Fennec called Boba soon as they'd taken the bridge and he returned in time to turn the dark troopers floating in space into so much scrap, so no appearance by mysterious jedi figures to save the party's bacon, maybe because, for some reason, Grogu failed to reach anyone on Tython? Which means Din is still looking for a teacher for Grogu).

Mando'a either has hover-text translations (with translations in the glossary, for those who need/prefer that method), or, since both of our PoV characters are fluent, are in English, but bolded. Given the nature of Mando'a, all gendered pronouns in the translated Mando'a are written as gender neutral.

Sorry for the lateness in posting this. But, given how few people interact on LJ/DW, and my own schedule, posting to these two sites is not among my priorities. If you want to see more contact here, INTERACT.

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The moment Fett's helmet connected with Obi-Wan's head, lightning flashed between them, and Obi-Wan was thrown across the landing pad, groaning in pain as he hit the raised edge of the platform, thanking the Force he hadn't been thrown from the platform entirely.

"–tingaanur jetii osik!" someone shouted, just audible over the storm.

Obi-Wan shoved himself upright, squinting against the rain, and groaned at the sight of two new Mandalorians standing in the middle of the platform. One was in beskar'gam so bright it shone, even in the gloomy lighting, while the other wore darkly coloured beskar'gam and a long, dark kama. Both looked to have jetpacks—of course—and blasters in thigh holsters, with the one in the lighter beskar'gam having a spear strapped to their back, while the one in darker beskar'gam had what looked like it might be a rifle slung over one shoulder, though Obi-Wan didn't have a great angle for a good look.

"...isn't that your ship?" one of them asked, continuing to speak Mando'a.

"It's my ship," Fett corrected from where he, too, had been thrown, back towards the walkway into the facility, and was struggling to his feet. "Who the kriff are–?"

"Buir?" one of them—the one in dark beskar'gam, Obi-Wan assumed, from the way the one in light beskar'gam immediately turned towards them—called, sounding a bit like they'd been punched in the gut.

"Boba?" the other newcomer said, voice only just audible over the rain.

Obi-Wan couldn't help but look up towards the cockpit window of the Firespray, and there was the tiny face of the clone Taun We had called Boba, looking out at the action with wide eyes.

"...buir?" Fett repeated, sounding as confused as Obi-Wan felt.

The darker of the strangers spun, stopping when they were facing Obi-Wan. "Kenobi," they said, and it didn't sound like a greeting, more an acknowledgement of his presence, before they spun back to Fett and said, "Buir, you can't go to Geonosis! That shabuir Windu will kill you!" in Mando'a.

Obi-Wan let out a disgruntled noise and called—in Mando'a, since they all seemed intent on the language—"And what, exactly, did Fett do for Mace to kill them?"

There followed a long moment of silence as all three of the Mandalorians turned to face him, and Obi-Wan crossed his arms over his chest, slipping hands into opposite sleeves and grimacing at the sensation of water-logged fabric weighing on the familiar stance.

The silence was broken by the whine of an animal or young child, which turned into a startled noise.

Obi-Wan started at the sensation of a young, partially trained Force-sensitive tapping rapidly on his mental shields. He cracked them open just enough for communication, and was almost bowled over by a wave of relief and confusion and Master Kenobi, you're alive? Why does it feel like everyone's alive?

Obi-Wan winced and rubbed at his forehead; he'd always thought Anakin the only one capable of subjecting others to instant migraines from being too excited about mental communication. "Slow down, youngling," he requested. "I'm afraid I don't understand."

"Y-you're a jedi?" the one in lighter beskar'gam asked, shifting a bag Obi-Wan hadn't noticed strapped across their chest and resting on their hip to reveal a small face bracketed by long ears; a member of Yoda's species, if Obi-Wan wasn't mistaken.

"Yeah, he's one of their leaders," the one in darker beskar'gam said.

"I'm what now?" Obi-Wan demanded, thrown.

The youngling supplied a...a memory, it seemed like, of Obi-Wan with his hair cut shorter than he currently wore it, walking into the unusually empty Temple commissary with Mace and Saesee Tiin, the three of them appearing to be discussing something that, by the grim cast of their expressions, was not good news. A young Togrutan padawan, by their line of silka beads, stood from one of the only three occupied tables, and called, "Master Obi-Wan! Do you have a minute?"

"Only a minute, I'm afraid, Padawan," that Obi-Wan agreed with a warm smile. "The war, unfortunately, waits for no one..."

The memory faded away, leaving Obi-Wan reeling slightly in the rain. War? Another padawan? Him...on the Council?

"–days before the start of the Clone Wars," the one in darker beskar'gam was saying. Then they turned towards the little face watching from the cockpit of the Firespray and pointed at them. "That's me, actually."

"Dank farrik!" the one in lighter beskar'gam said, and then they let out a quiet laugh, the sound nearly lost to the rain.

"Do not–"

"You're tiny."

"I will shoot you."

The Force-sensitive youngling sneezed, and both of the new Mandalorians turned to look at them, concern filling the Force around the one in lighter beskar'gam.

"Yeah," the one in darker beskar'gam said, before looking at Fett. "Buir, can we put this fight on hold? Gro'ika's a misery when he catches sick."

Fett was still for a moment, then he nodded, motioning them towards the open hatch of the Firespray as it turned towards them, presumably being controlled by the young clone in the cockpit. "Anything funny, jetii–" he growled in warning.

Obi-Wan held out a hand towards his lightsabre and called it to him, feeling much better when he finally had it back in his hands. "I believe, Ser Fett, that we have more pressing matters than you fleeing to, where was it again? Geonosis?" he asked in the most mild tone he could manage, as he attached his sabre back to his belt, before turning to follow the newer arrivals into the ship.

"How was I supposed to know that Kenobi spoke Mando'a?" the one in darker beskar'gam muttered in that language. "It's not like it came up last time."

The one in lighter beskar'gam let out a quiet chuckle, while the youngling cooed once, then sneezed.

"Yeah, I'll go get you some towels, ad'ika," the one in darker beskar'gam promised as Obi-Wan stepped into the reasonably-sized cargo-hold, Fett walking close behind him, before they moved further into the ship with an assuredness that spoke to familiarity with the space.

Inexplicable as it was, Obi-Wan was beginning to think that might, actually, be the same Boba Fett currently in the Firespray's cockpit.

Almost as though aware of Obi-Wan's thoughts, the youngling reached out towards Obi-Wan again, gentler, and agreed that that was Boba, one of his buire, and the other one was Din, but everyone always just called him 'Mando', so Obi-Wan probably should, too.

Obi-Wan hummed and inclined his head in understanding, then sent back a request for the youngling's name.

Grogu.

"What's he saying?" the one in the lighter (all unpainted silver, like much of Fett's, save one vambrace, which was red) beskar'gam—Din, apparently—asked with a tired sort of humour.

"Nothing," Fett snarled as he stalked around Obi-Wan, towards the hallway the other newcomer had vanished down. "Port cupboard!" he shouted in Mando'a.

"I know where you keep the towels, Buir!" they shouted back, sounding so much like Anakin after Obi-Wan reminded him of something again, it was a bit entertaining. "I keep them in the same kriffing place!"

"Grogu was introducing himself," Obi-Wan said to Din. "And he gave your and Boba's names, although, he explained you prefer 'Mando'?"

Din had stiffened at the mention of Grogu sharing their name, before sighing and rubbing a gloved hand over the youngling's head. "Yes. The covert I grew up in, we don't share our names or remove our helmets outside our clan."

"Traditionalists?" Fett asked, glancing back over his shoulder at them. "Didn't think there were many of you left."

"Not many of anyone left, where we're from," Boba—the elder Boba; the younger appeared willing to stay up in the cockpit—said as they shoved past Fett and handed a towel off to Din, then threw one at Obi-Wan, which he barely managed to catch before it slapped him in the face. "I'm not dealing with you catching sick either, Kenobi; Gro'ika's a menace, but everything I've heard about you, says you're a disaster on a good day."

"I beg your pardon," Obi-Wan replied with a frown, even as he used the towel to dry his face and hair.

Grogu giggled.

"Wait," Din said, freezing where they were in the process of drying off Grogu, helmet turning towards Obi-Wan. "General Kenobi of the two-twelfth?"

Ice slid down Obi-Wan's spine at being referred to as a 'general'. He hadn't been called that in a very long time, and he should very much like to never be called such again.

Boba had said something about a war, hadn't they? Something involving the clones. But why would Obi-Wan get a military title? Unless he was going to—had, in some version of the future—quit the Order again to go to war.

"Alor'ika," Boba said, voice flat, "how is it, exactly, that you know Kenobi's name and battalion, but literally everything else in the galaxy is a mystery to you?"

Din muttered something too low to make out.

A battalion. Somehow, somewhen, some version of Obi-Wan was going to be leading an entire battalion in a war.

He glanced around for a place to sit before his legs gave out, picking a sturdy-looking crate and rubbing a hand over his beard in an attempt to disguise how much he wanted to just...not be a part of this conversation. At all. Ever.

The sound of a helmet unlatching filled the room, and Obi-Wan glanced over to find Boba removing their helmet—which Obi-Wan could see, in the light of the cargo room, was a dark green, matching their chestplate, while their spaulders were a golden yellow, and one vambrace was red, the other the same unpainted silver of Din's beskar'gam—revealing a heavily scarred visage, which nevertheless, looked very much like Fett.

"What happened?" Fett demanded, and something about his tone made Obi-Wan think he wanted to pull this aged version of the child in the cockpit into his arms.

Boba grunted. "Fell into a sarlacc."

...what?

"You...fell into–" Fett started.

Boba's mental shields were impressive—far better than Din's, given the uncertainty Obi-Wan could easily sense permeating the space around them—but Grogu had a sort of bond with both of his parents, and he clearly thought Obi-Wan needed to know how uncomfortable Fett's questioning was making Boba feel.

"I'm impressed you survived," Obi-Wan interrupted, raising his eyebrows at Boba, who immediately turned to shoot him a surprised look. "I've heard a number of stories about sarlaccs, but I don't believe I've ever heard of someone getting back out of one before."

Fett had fallen silent.

Boba stared at him for a moment, then reached back and touched their jetpack. "Imagine you'd hear more, if jetpacks were more widespread. D– Mando–" they motioned towards where Din was still acting very focussed with drying off Grogu "–got out of a krayt dragon the same way."

Din groaned, but Grogu let out a delighted noise and immediately offered to share the memory with Obi-Wan, who chuckled quietly and agreed.

Grogu's love and fear for his parent was clear in the memory, from the moment Din let himself get swallowed, to the victory of his escape and the krayt being blown up from the inside.

"Well," Obi-Wan murmured as the memory ended, "that's certainly one way to kill a krayt dragon."

"Gro'ika's Force-sensitive," Boba was telling Fett, who had removed his own helmet while Obi-Wan was distracted by the shared memory, and looked a little like he wanted to shoot something, or someone. "Strong, apparently. Mando wants to find him a teacher."

"And you approved?" Fett snarled.

"He's not my kid!" Boba shouted.

Grogu let out a quiet whimper, and Boba and Din both turned to him, Boba's expression falling. "He didn't mean it like that," Din murmured, rubbing gloved fingers over Grogu's head, as the youngling twisted and buried his face against his parent's chestplate. "Your Bo'Buir is just stubborn."

Boba groaned and rubbed at the scars marring their scalp, then turned back to Fett, who looked a little like he didn't know how to react to...something in all that. "Mando found Grogu, adopted him before we met. Agreed to find a teacher for him before we met, too. It's not my place."

"But it's the jetiise," Fett snarled, and shot Obi-Wan a poisonous glare.

Obi-Wan raised a polite, unimpressed eyebrow in response; it was hardly the first time he'd been faced with those who hated him for what he was, and he very much doubted it would be the last.

"Buir," Boba said, something careful about their voice, "you can't blame every single jedi for what happened."

Fett stepped forward, closer to Boba, something dangerous about the curl of his lips. "What would you know of my pain, boy?"

Din's beskar'gam clinked lightly as they straightened, towel dropping from their hand as they dropped it down to hover over the blaster strapped to their thigh.

"I know that, if we hadn't shown up, little me up in the cockpit was going to watch his buir get kriffing decapitated by a jedi, in a couple days, and then left behind in a battlefield, because you left me with nothing!" Boba roared, reaching out and shoving Fett back two steps. "Kriffing Aurra Sing picked me up! Little baby clone, can get in anywhere the other ones happened to be allowed, but otherwise useless. Landed me in kriffing prison. Woulda been dead if Bossk hadn't kept sticking his neck out for me.

"And then where would your 'legacy' have gone, Buir?" Boba continued, tone biting, taking a step forward as Fett took a step back, his expression twisted with grief and what might have been horror. "Would've had to depend on the millions of others just like me. Which, don't worry, they managed just fine: They wiped out every single jedi they could find, just like you always dreamed. Even the ik'aade in their cribs."

Fett made some sort of noise, some sort of response, but Obi-Wan didn't hear it, couldn't hear it past the rushing sound filling his ears. The clones would wipe out the Order? Even the smallest of the younglings?

'Why does it feel like everyone's alive?' Grogu had asked. Because he...came from a future where he'd been one of the last jedi alive.

Obi-Wan didn't realise he'd made the choice to get up and leave the Firespray until the rain was coming down on his head again.

There was no point, he recognised, in returning to the ship; Fett had already made it clear he wouldn't be sharing any useful information—he'd learnt more from Boba yelling at their father, than he had from speaking one-on-one with Fett—and since Boba seemed intent to keep their father on Kamino, there was no reason for Obi-Wan to remain in the ship. He would be better served going to Geonosis on his own, or seeing if he couldn't hack the Kaminoan computer systems to gather more information about where the clone army had come from. Why any jedi master would pick a man who apparently wanted the whole of the Order wiped from existence, to be the template of an army meant to...serve with the Order? Under them?

(Jedi were peacekeepers: Diplomats, healers, and teachers; spies, when necessary. Yes, some of them—like Obi-Wan himself—had some limited experience with leading an army in a combat situation, but it was hardly something common. Which wasn't even touching on the psychic damage any jedi fighting a war would suffer, from the sensation of so many lives being snuffed out; those who specified in the Unifying Force, like Obi-Wan, would fare far better than those who specialised in the Living Force, but he knew, from too much experience, that it would only blunt the damage, not protect them entirely.

What had Sifo-Dyas been thinking?)

"Kenobi!" a voice called as Obi-Wan stepped through the automatic doors and into the brightly-lit corridors of the facility. He turned to watch as Din stepped quickly after him, and couldn't tell if he was honestly unsurprised to discover the other had followed him, or if he just felt too numb to process emotions other than the overwhelming horror that was a galaxy without the jedi.

Grogu was straining in his pouch against Din's hip, whining and reaching for Obi-Wan, and Obi-Wan reached down and brushed gentle fingers over his head, feeling the damp strands of a patchy covering of hair. "I'm fine, little one," he murmured, and pasted on a smile to try and sell the lie.

Grogu pressed against his mental shields, scrabbling for a connection to another jedi, wanting to help, to soothe the maelstrom of Obi-Wan's misplaced grief and horror.

"It is not your place, youngling, to soothe over the hurts of others," Obi-Wan cautioned, the same thing he'd had to say to Anakin, a few times, in the early years.

"Can you teach him?" Din asked in a rush, a sort of desperation bleeding into the air around them.

Obi-Wan shook his head. "I already have a padawan."

"I...don't know what that means."

Obi-Wan couldn't quite stop a brittle laugh at that; no, if this being came from a future where the jedi were gone, he didn't suppose he should expect them to know that word. "It's what we call our students," he explained, because this was a much easier topic than what horrors the future might hold. "In the Order, all younglings start out in the crèche, grouped in clans for caretaking and teaching. When they reach their species equivalent of young adulthood, an older jedi will take them on as a padawan, a student they teach one-on-one, until the padawan is ready to strike out on their own."

Din's shoulders slumped. "He's still a baby, I think. I mean, he's fifty, but..."

"Yes, the Grand Master of the Order is the same species," Obi-Wan offered. "He's nearly nine hundred."

"Dank farrik," Din groaned.

Grogu let out a questioning noise, looking between the two of them.

"Just...realising how much you're going to outlive me, ad'ika," Din said, quiet and pained.

Grogu's ears went down and he let out a whine.

"Loss is a part of life, unfortunately," Obi-Wan murmured, brushing his fingers over one of the long ears, while he reached out through the Force to offer comfort in that, more familiar, manner. "We can do aught but move on, and remember those dear to us who have joined the Force before us." He glanced up at the distinctive t-shaped visor in front of him, and added, "Nu kyr'adyc, shi taab'echaaj'la, in your buire's language."

"Y-you know Mando'a, know our culture?" Din asked, sounding uncertain.

Obi-Wan hummed and nodded. "I spent a year on Mandalore when I was a padawan."

"Oh."

Din shuffled their feet a little, the movement understated enough, Obi-Wan would have missed it if he hadn't been looking down at Grogu. They were bleeding uncertainty and indecision into the Force, so clearly fighting with themself about something.

Obi-Wan nodded at the out-of-place vambrace. "You and Boba are married?" he asked, because that seemed like a safe enough topic, something for them both to focus on, which didn't involve whatever Din was struggling with, or the terrible future they had come from, and what it might mean for Obi-Wan and the rest of his jedi family.

"Yes. And no."

Obi-Wan raised an eyebrow at that.

Din let out a quiet sound that didn't translate well through the helmet's vocoder, but the frustration and uncertain love bleeding into the Force made the reason for the sound clear. "It's–" They shrugged, just enough to translate through their beskar'gam. "In our, our time, I guess, a number of the surviving Mando'ade, those who have come out of hiding, at least, they don't agree on much. But they do agree that Boba isn't Mando'ad. Which is osik," they added, snarling slightly.

Grogu let out an angry little growl of his own, raising his claws like he was going to attack something. It was unexpectedly endearing.

Din huffed and rubbed their fingers over Grogu's head, earning them an enquiring coo. "You're very fierce," Din promised, and Grogu cooed again, clearly pleased at the praise.

Din held up the arm with the red vambrace. "I didn't want Boba left out, for him to have to, to stay away and never get to see Grogu, so I suggested we say the riduurok; no one can deny he's Mando'ad now."

Obi-Wan hummed; he was fairly certain there was no rule that said that spouses of Mandalorians were automatically Mandalorian, but things could well be different in their future, especially if they were attempting to rebuild their culture anew. Still, he couldn't quite help himself from saying, "It wasn't just meant as convenience or a kindness for you, was it?"

"No," Din agreed quietly, helmet ducking down, like they couldn't bring themself to look at Obi-Wan while they admitted their feelings. "I've wanted more with him...practically since we met. But he doesn't feel the same."

Grogu clearly disagreed with this point of view, for he huffed and shoved an echo of emotion at Obi-Wan, a sense of loneliness/love/not-enough/he's-too-good-for-me.

"Grogu," Obi-Wan translated drily, "says you need to have an actual conversation with your spouse about this, Mando."

"This seems like a...very bad time for that," Din muttered, rubbing their fingers over Grogu's head again.

Obi-Wan hummed. "In my experience, there is very rarely a 'good time' for difficult conversations. But, the longer you put them off, the more everyone involved hurts; sometimes, it truly is better to just rip off the bacta patch."

Din let out a choked sound. "I know at least three medics who would fight you over that."

Obi-Wan chuckled. "Oh, I know one who would absolutely sedate me and drop me in a bacta tank, if she caught me removing a patch without her explicit permission."

Din laughed outright at that, the sound crackling through the vocoder of their helmet, and Grogu giggled with them, clearly delighted that his parent was cheered.

Obi-Wan and Din both looked over at the sound of the door out onto the landing pad opening again, and Obi-Wan blinked in surprise to find it was the younger Boba, who looked around uncertainly for a moment, before catching sight of them and glaring. "Youngling?"

He let out a disgusted noise and hurried over to them. "Dad said I have to make sure you don't get lost," he said, sounding disgruntled.

Obi-Wan suspected that it was more that Fett wanted to make sure Obi-Wan didn't skip off to Geonosis, now he knew that had been his intended destination. He did hope he wasn't being stuck with Boba to make sure the youngling wouldn't see whatever might be destined to occur on Geonosis; he was simply going to have to trust that the elder Boba wouldn't let his father leave the planet.

At any rate, he'd already discovered that the hallways in the facility were easy to get lost in, so he appreciated any offer of assistance, however grudgingly granted. "I was hoping to find a place where I might access the Kaminoans' systems," he said, folding his hands into the sleeves of his robe and doing his best not to grimace at them being wet. Still.

Little Boba cast him a considering glance, then asked, "You want, what? Their holonet access?"

Obi-Wan raised an eyebrow at the boy, while Din coughed quietly, the sound only just enough for the vocoder to pick up. "I was thinking more information on the clones. Money trails." Jedi, as a rule, didn't have easy access to the sorts of funds that would be necessary for an undertaking of this magnitude, and a large withdrawal from the Order's accounts would have been noticed. Which meant this had most likely been funded from another source; if Obi-Wan wasn't going to be following Fett to Geonosis—or sneaking out on his own—the next best way to discover their mystery benefactor, would be through monetary accounts.

(Obi-Wan had been trained as a diplomat, but his best friend was a shadow, and picking up some of Quinlan's habits and skills had saved his life enough times, he wasn't about to discount this particular trick as a good way to find the Order a lead to act on, while he remained on Kamino to keep an eye on the Fetts and Din. And, alright, teach Grogu, at least until they could find him a better master. Or whatever had brought the three into their past returned them to their present.)

"Huh," Boba said, nearly at the same time as Din letting out a noise, which the meaning of was lost to their vocoder. "Yeah, okay. This way," he directed, and pushed past Obi-Wan to lead the way further along the hall he'd stopped in.

"You're trying to determine where the money for the clone army came from?" Din asked quietly, as they joined Obi-Wan in following the younger Boba. "I don't remember a lot about the war, but I always thought the Republic ordered them."

Obi-Wan hummed. "When I arrived here, the Kaminoans weren't surprised to see me, seemed to think the Order had been the one to order the clones."

"Well, yeah," Boba supplied, looking back over his shoulder at them, his expression unimpressed. "You're supposed to lead them, right? That's what all the training says."

Obi-Wan had to stop, his feet feeling rooted to the floor. "But...that's impossible," he heard himself say, even as he struggled with the concept that a jedi master hadn't just ordered an army of sentients cloned from a man who hated jedi, but that they'd apparently had them trained to expect jedi to lead them in war?

"How?" Din asked, uncertainty bleeding into the Force around them, while Grogu let out a quiet, mournful sound, like he understood, exactly, what had just thrown Obi-Wan off his stride. "Your name was on all of the propaganda. Well, you and General Skywalker."

"Anakin?!" Obi-Wan demanded, feeling like the world had just fallen out from under him. Him leading beings in a war, while uncomfortable, he could accept, but his padawan? He hadn't even been certain it was wise to let him go off with Padmé on their own, and now he was expected to let him go to war?

The Force twisted, clearly also unhappy with the idea, and tugged on Obi-Wan, directing him further along the hallway.

Obi-Wan had lived his life trusting in the Force, so he didn't hesitate to follow the pull, stepping quickly past Boba.

With the Force as his guide, he would find the answers he needed for the Council, and hopefully something to keep Anakin safe.

Part 2 here

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