Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Disclaimer: don’t own DC or SW

Chapter 1

He dragged himself along, he had to get to help, he had to…he coughed, choking on warm fluid, a hand pressed to his throat. He’d…he’d slit…he was in agony, it’d be so easy to just lay down and die but he couldn’t, he couldn’t do that to B and Dick, to Alfie. Joker’d killed Jason…he couldn’t…let him kill him too…

“Come out, come out wherever you are!” the mocking voice called, and he pressed his other hand to his mouth.  

He was so scared. Where were Batman and Nightwing? He didn’t want to die! Someone…anyone…help him!

“There you are!”

He stared at the sight of the Joker approaching, crowbar in hand…the same one? Please no…please…. save…darkness swallowed him, body limp, hand falling away from his throat.

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Bruce slammed through the glass, rolling to his feet, seeing a blood trail, a broken bō. No, please no… he ran through the building and there, there was Joker! He didn’t hesitate, throwing a batarang at his hand to make him drop his weapon. He was blinking like he’d been hit by a bright light and on the ground in front of him was a pool of blood. He grabbed the man and slammed him into the wall.

“Where is Robin?” he snarled.

The sound of something breaking and then Nightwing was there, eskrima crackling with electricity. “B?”

“Robin’s wounded, find him.”

“On it,” Nightwing’s voice was trembling slightly, fear or rage?

“Where is he?” He demanded again, slamming Joker harder against the wall, getting a laugh in return.

“Lose another birdie, Bats?” he taunted, still laughing. “He’s gone! Into the bright light! Think he’s with the other?”

He barely kept himself from snapping the bastards’ neck, knocking him out instead. He cuffed him and then tapped his comm. “Oracle, check Robin’s tracker.”

“Batman…it’s gone. It was right there and now nothing. No contact through comms, nothing.”

“There’s a blood trail, it ends here in a pool but there’s no…there’s no body,” he told her. “And from the way Joker was standing here, I don’t think he moved him.”

“I’ll check surrounding cameras,” she promised.

They had to find him and fast, that much blood loss… he should have sent Tim to the YJ base as soon as Joker broke out, the mad man hated him for single handedly capturing him when he first started out as Robin. But he hadn’t and now Tim may have paid the price. He bent down and carefully picked up the damaged and bloody bō, seeing where it had been cracked nearly in half.

Dick reappeared, his expression saying it all…no Tim. Where was he?

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“Alor!”

He broke into a jog at the horrified call, entering the clearing to see two of his men standing over something…someone. An ad lay on the frozen ground, covered in blood, choking for air…their throat! He pulled out his limited medical supplies, pressing a bacta bandage to the slit throat even as he activated his comm. “I need the baar'ur, now!” he commanded.

Soon, the clearing was full of verd, the baar'ur rushing forward. The two of them began talking rapidly, looking the child over, bandaging what they could for the moment. And then the child was being lifted onto a stretcher, no one even considering leaving them there. No Mando worth their beskar'gam would leave a wounded ad behind.

The ad did not look like a native to Korda Six, most likely human or near-human. So, what were they doing on the planet and so badly wounded? Had the Kordans done that? Or someone else? They had been hired to rescue the captured training squad of the Korda Defence Force but a wounded ad came first and now they were on the planet…something about the job felt wrong.

He made his way back to the ship and went to the medical bay to find Mij in control, the ad being stripped and prepared for bacta immersion. He knew better than to interfere, waiting as they lowered the ad into the bacta, the child not reacting at all.

“How is the ad?” he asked once the activity began to settle and Mij looked over at him.

“Alive, somehow. They lost a lot of blood, through the slit throat and several other wounds. Signs of previous injuries too, though all seem to have been well tended.”

“Abuse?”

“Maybe, could be training, accidents happen,” Mij shrugged slightly. Without asking the ad there was no way to know.

“Let me know of any change,” he ordered and then left, they did have a job to do after all.

He headed for the landing bay and that was when the scouts reported in. It seemed the job was not what they had been told, not with Kyr'tsad involved. He didn’t have the numbers with him to deal with them plus the natives working with them, so he pulled his men and shops back into orbit, sending for reinforcements.

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Floating…he…was floating? There was distant noise, like coming under water…voices? Strange words…alive, he was alive. What had…JOKER!

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Alarms blared and Mij leapt to his feet, seeing wide, terrified blue eyes, the ad struggling wildly. First time in a tank could be disorientating and the younger the worse it was. He hit the intercom that was linked to the breathing mask. Basic, he’d need to speak basic since that was most likely to be understood.

“Easy child, you’re safe. You are in our medical bay and your injuries are healing. Can you understand me? Raise your hand if you can,” he told the ad, not wanting them to attempt speech yet, and slowly a hand lifted. “Good, I am Mij Gilamar, the head medic here. We found you dying on Korda Six but with no sign of your attacker,” he explained, and the ad’s eyes narrowed, seeming confused. Memory loss was to be expected given their injuries.

“You need to be in the bacta tank for at least another day, would you like a sedative or can you sleep without one?”

The ad shook their head violently at the idea of a sedative which Mij didn’t like at all.

“Very well, but we will be monitoring your vitals, if they change too far, we will sedate you for your own safety. No one will hurt you,” he swore, and the ad closed their eyes, obviously done.  

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Tim closed his eyes, glad that for now at least the medic had agreed not to sedate him. He cracked an eye open and then opened them fully, trying to see properly outside of the tank. He was terrified, where was he? Who were these…people…aliens? Because that one was definitely not human unless his injuries plus the tank were really affecting his vision.

Floating was weird but he felt a lot better than the last moments he remembered. So, it seemed they might really be healing him. But what would the price be? How had he gotten here? The one that had spoken to him spoke English at least, though heavily accented, but the rest…he couldn’t understand anything, though it was garbled from the liquid and probably the tank as well. He scrunched up his face and yep, his domino was gone, actually…was he naked? He felt his heart rate increase, felt eyes on him, and struggled to lower it again.

“Ad?” a voice asked.

Was he naked? Had they taken his uniform off? He found himself hugging his chest, shivering and the man…Mij frowned before his eyes widened.

“Easy, you’re not naked,” he soothed. You were very badly wounded and your clothing in tatters. We had to remove it to tend to you. But your reproductive area is covered. We are medics, we would never touch you like that. You are a child and our patient. Once you’re out of the tank, you will be given a medical gown until discharge. Just breath, there’s no one but medics in here.”

Was he telling the truth? How would Tim know if he wasn’t?

“Please, you need to calm down,” the man’s voice was soothing, gentle, but Tim was too scared now.

Words he couldn’t understand and then he felt his energy draining, eyes growing heavy. No! He didn’t want to sleep, he couldn’t…he….

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He stepped in to see Mij and Anyal in front of the bacta tank, obviously doing something. Had the ad deteriorated? Mij looked over at him and frowned but joined him.

“The ad woke,” Mij said before he could ask. “They understand basic but seemed confused when I told them we found them on Korda Six. Some memory loss would not be abnormal given the condition they were in. They denied the offer of a sedative but then panicked, I assured them they were not naked, that no one would touch them like that but they weren’t calming so we had to sedate them. We’ll keep them out till they can be removed from the tank tomorrow.”

“Will the ad be able to speak?”

“We don’t know, hopefully our work and the bacta have healed the damage to their throat. Even if it is healed, speaking should wait to allow the healing to settle.”

He nodded in understanding. “Ensure the ad has whatever they need to feel safe and comfortable. When they are ready, call for me.”

“Of course.”

He left, going to find his own ad. Jango would never admit it, but he was worried about the child in the bacta tank as well. But there was the worry, was the ad a trap? Kyr'tsad had begun kidnapping them to train into their own ways. But Mij said the ad understood basic and Kyr'tsad would not teach that, unless the ad was an aruetii originally?

“Jas’buir?” Jango asked as he joined him.

“The ad woke but had to be sedated due to panicking in the tank,” he explained, and Jango grimaced. No one enjoyed time in a bacta time and ad often panicked the first time. “Any word from our reinforcements?”

“Five hours out. Montross is not happy,” Jango warned, and Jaster nodded.

No, Montross was not happy, had not been since they found the ad and then the scouts returned and they retreated. He didn’t like where his thoughts were going but he had to face them. He could not risk letting loyalty blinding him to the chance. He had chosen Montross as his second due to his links to the more traditional clans but maybe he was too deeply linked? This job had become far more complicated than he had ever imagined.

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He woke slowly, everything feeling fuzzy…sedative. forcing his eyes open took a lot of work and then the adrenaline kicked in and he was falling, scrambling away from the strange being that had been leaning over him. He was in some kind of gown, not as open at the back as usual which was nice and he could feel his underwear was in place, good. He put his back to the wall, searching for exits.

“Easy ad,” a voice called, and Tim looked, it was him, the man…Mij? “Sorry if Anyal startled you. Have you never seen a Wookie before?”

Tim shook his head, the ache in his throat saying talking might not be good. And…he remembered…the flash of pain, the blood…his hand went to his throat.

“Your throat is healed but it will take a few days for the healing to settle, please don’t try to talk yet. Alright?”

Tim nodded slowly.

“That’s good ad,” Mij smiled at him, kneeling down despite the armour he wore. “Are you in pain anywhere else?”

Tim considered it and then touched his knee.

“Yes, we had to surgically repair your knee before you went into the bacta. You are lucky, we almost had to replace it but the repair has taken. Would you like something for the pain?”

Tim hesitated but then shook his head. He’d already had a lot of medical treatment that he had no clue about. What the hell was bacta? And what would they want in payment.

“Alright, that’s your decision. But will you please get back on the bed? I’d like to monitor your vitals for a while longer and it will be more comfortable, plus warmer. Ships can be cold while in space.”

Tim considered it, glancing around at the armoured forms, all of them staying well back.

Mij glanced at them, saying something Tim couldn’t understand, and the majority left.

Tim slowly moved towards the bed, going to get up only to wince as his knee complained. He tensed as Mij moved closer but the man just offered his arm and Tim slowly took it, the armour cool under his hand as he was helped up onto the bed. He winced again as he stretched out his legs, feeling his knee twinge. Mij vanished and then reappeared with something.

“Here, place this on the knee and it will help, it is a heating pad.”

Tim touched it and felt the heat so he took it and put it on his knee, relaxing as the heat seeped in.

“Our Alor…leader, would like to speak with you, if you feel up to it.”

Tim considered it, he was tired and sore but it was probably better to know what would happen next. He didn’t think they’d kill him, why heal him first? But there was a lot they could do. His gear was gone and he was still hurting, if it came to a fight he was in trouble.

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Jaster entered the medical bay to find it basically empty but Mij standing by a bed and the ad sitting on it, legs out, a heating pad over one knee. “Su cuy'gar ad,” he greeted softly, Mij’s warning clear in his head. It was why he’d removed his buy'ce before entering.

The ad blinked at him, confused.

“It means hello child,” he explained. “It is good to see you awake and healing. May I sit?” he indicated a chair and received a nod. “I am Jaster Mereel. Mij has said you cannot speak yet, so we will keep this simple. Do you remember your name?” that got a firm nod. “Your age?”

Another nod and then they held up both hands, showing ten fingers, then held up another four.

“Fourteen?” he asked to be sure, getting a nod.

Older than he would have assumed, small for their age? Malnutrition? A species quirk? Mij had said the scanners were still working on whether the ad was human or not.

“Are you male?” he asked to be sure, and the ad nodded. “Could you write your name down?”

Mij offered a datapad and stylus and the ad hesitantly took them, writing and then handing it back. Well…that was a problem. That was not basic. So, he could understand it but not write it? That was fairly common when it was the second language.

“We will have to give that to a translator,” he told the ad, getting a confused look. The boy motioned to their mouths then the words he had written and frowned again. “This is how your people write this language?” he guessed, and the ad nodded. That would make things more difficult.

“You are safe here, I know Mandalorians have a scary reputation in the wider galaxy but we do not harm ad, children. Once we can communicate properly, we will arrange to take you home if that is your wish. But if your buir…parents were the cause of your injuries,” he stopped as the ad shook his head wildly. “Easy, are you saying it wasn’t your parents?” he asked to clarify and got a nod, blue eyes were wide. “Alright then. Do you remember who hurt you?”

That got a shiver and flash of fear, the boy nodding, hugging himself.

“You have a ship full of Haat Mando'ade, True Mandalorians. We follow the Way and that states that ad, children, are the future. If whoever harms you attempts to again, they will face us. We will defend you.”

There was disbelief in those blue eyes but that was alright, many had trouble believing him about that at first.

“Until we can return you to your family, you will remain in the care of my clan, the Mereel. I have a son the same age as you.” He smiled at the ad who hesitantly smiled back.

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Tim wanted to believe him, that they would send him back to Earth, but he wasn’t sure. And how had he ended up on…Korda Six? He’d never heard of it before from the Lanterns or anyone else. How far from home was he? Could he get in contact with the Lantern Corps? He spotted something green and pointed then indicated his finger like a ring but only got blank looks, so…they didn’t know about the Corps? Being unable to speak was very frustrating.

And then his stomach growled, getting a chuckle from the leader, Jaster Mereel.

“I think your patient is in need of food.”

“Something easy to digest and low in spice content,” Mij answered.

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Jango slipped into the medical bay, peering at the boy sleeping on the bed. He had black hair and pale skin but he didn’t look unhealthy. Buir said the boy was the same age as him but he looked small in the bed. He was hooked up to some monitors but seemed to be sleeping okay. Jango wasn’t sure about Jaster taking responsibility for the stranger, would he adopt him too? He wasn’t sure if he wanted a vod or not. But buir said the ad indicated he had parents and they hadn’t been the ones to hurt him, so hopefully they could see him home safely. Jango wouldn’t want him to be hurt again or anything.

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Dick stared at the footage from Tim’s domino, feeling sick as the Joker taunted him, chasing him, beating him. There was no sign of him anywhere. Bruce had even given in and called Tim’s teammates, hoping Kon-El could find him but the three had found no sign of him, no trace of a message left for them, nothing. But there was no body either. So, what had happened to him?

The Joker only ever said a light had taken him so they had reached out to Hal, had a Ring chosen him and taken him away to safety? But…what if it wasn’t a green ring? Tim would have been terrified and angry surely after a week in the Joker’s hands. If not for Harley dropping a clue, they wouldn’t have found the place Tim was being held. So it wouldn’t be surprising if he had been chosen by fear or rage and injured, would Tim have the strength to turn down something that would save his life?

TBC…

So how will Tim fair in the Star Wars universe and with Mandalorians?

Chapter Text

Disclaimer: not mine

Chapter 2

Tim lay on the bed, finally feeling awake again. There’d been that first time but since then he’d been so tired, only waking for food or when they checked him over. It was always Mij, touching him only, when necessary, gentle and soft spoken even when he struggled to find the right words in English or basic as they called it. His throat and knee felt a lot better and he thought he could probably walk. Could he talk though? That was honestly what scared him the most. Sure, he knew the basics of sign language, but he doubted it was the same as the local version, if they had one outside of battle signs.

Everyone seemed to wear armour, even the doctors, but he couldn’t really ask questions. Though Mij would talk to him, not that Tim remembered a lot of it, too groggy.

“Good morning ad,” Mij greeted, setting his breakfast tray down, and Tim nodded, pushing himself up to sit. “Any pain?” he asked, and Tim shook his head. “Well then, eat up, then we’ll take a look.”

Tim grabbed the spoon and dug into the local variant of porridge and some kind of fruit. He’d never had spicey porridge before and Mij had even said this had basically no spices! He was kind of worried about the normal food on the ship. Once he was done, Mij moved around him with the now familiar machines, seeming pleased with the results before focusing on his knee.

“Stretch it out fully,” he ordered and Tim stretched his leg out flat. “Good, bend the knee as far as you can without pain.”

Once again Tim did as told folding his leg under himself.

“Flexible. Now let’s see your throat.”

Tipping his head back was harder because he remembered the flash of a blade. It hadn’t been meant for his throat but he’d gone to dodge and been too hurt to do so properly, landing at a weird angle. Very gently, Mij touched the skin, checking the wound. He couldn’t help flinching slightly as the pressure increased.

“Easy ad,” Mij murmured, and Tim closed his eyes, focusing on his breathing. “All done,” he announced, hands moving from Tim’s neck. He then moved aside for a moment before returning with a cup of water. “Do you think you can try and speak? Just something short and simple.”

Tim bit his lip, this was it. Had they healed the damage or had Joker stolen his voice forever? Best to get it over with and know, right? But he was scared. And then a hand was offered, gloves still gone from where he’d been checking Tim over, and Tim hesitantly took the hand. He swallowed a few times to make sure his throat and mouth were moist and then went to speak only to freeze, finding he was gripping tightly to Mij’s hand.

“It’s alright, there’s no rush ad, take your time,” the man was murmuring.

He closed his eyes and fell into one of the meditations he had learnt from Rahul Lama, calming his body. He had to know.

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Mij didn’t flinch at the bruising grip on his hand, the ad was understandably scared that his voice was gone but if that was the case he would look for another way to help him speak. Prosthetic limbs were common enough, even using it for damage ears, but he hadn’t seen much on voices. He’d likely have to check Republic sources for that, but he’d do it to help an ad.

“It’s alright, there’s no rush ad, take your time,” he murmured, seeing him swallowing rapidly. He kept speaking gently to offer comfort, Mando and basic mixing, and he watched as the ad calmed, posture relaxing and breathing evening out…meditation? That was not a common thing to teach outside of the Jetii and some old religious orders. Was he Jetii’ad? That would explain how he had panicked at seeing them, but not his seeming to not know what a Wookie was. Still, maybe he should run the blood test to be sure.

“Tttt…”

He blinked and then smiled, relieved, it wasn’t a word but it was a definite noise.

“Tt...m…” Blue eyes opened, appearing frustrated, and he took another deep breath but then reached for the water, sipping. “T…im.”

“Tim?” Mij asked, and the ad nodded, sinking back against the medical bed. That was not a word he knew, unless… “Your name?”

And the ad…Tim smiled.

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Jaster opened the message from Mij, relieved by the contents.

“Buir?”

“Our guest’s name is Tim,” he told Jango.

“He can talk?” Jango straightened up.

He knew Jango wanted friends his own age, Myles and Silas were the closest but Myles was five years older while Silas was two years younger and technically shouldn’t even be with them at the moment. Kid hadn’t undergone his verd'goten yet after all but he’d been helping out around the ship to get ready and the next thing they knew, they were in hyperspace with one very confused and sleepy ad. No one had seen him curled up asleep in the cargo bay. If they couldn’t find Tim’s family…

“You want to adopt him, don’t you?” Jango asked, watching him.

“Tim was very vehement that it was not his family who hurt him. The goal is to return him to his home if at all possible.”

“And if it isn’t?” Jango pressed, and Jaster sighed.

“Yes, but not without your agreement. You are my son Jango.”

Jango nodded. Hopefully he would give the other boy a chance. “You’re not going to go see him?”

“Not until Mij clears it, his note said he barely got his name out. So, he’s not ready for actual talking yet and our last conversation was enough for now.”

“So, what are you going to do with Montross?” Jango changed the subject.

Except not fully since if they had not found Tim then they would not have realised Montross was a traitor. With him locked up in the brig and reinforcements, they had found the captured men and freed them. Sadly, Tor had run rather than face him but they had dealt a blow to his forces. And now he had to decide what to do with his second and who to name in his place. Walon maybe?

“He will be declared dar'manda,” he murmured. There was no other choice there, he had attempted to have his Mand'alor killed after all. His armour would be taken from him and then what? Death? Many would call for it but to kill someone he had trusted for years was not an easy decision.

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Tim walked several laps around the medical room, his knee not even twinging thankfully. He’d been given a spray for his throat to help sooth it as he tried to talk more and now…now he was being discharged. He didn’t know what would happen now, Mr Mereel said they would help him get home, but what would that mean? Remaining on the ship while they looked for Earth? Staying on a planet while they occasionally looked?

The door opened to reveal someone new, taller than him though not by a lot and he looked human too, helmet hooked to something at his waist. Tim thought they were around the same age…was this Mereel’s son then? Or were there more teenagers aboard?

The teen spoke with Mij in their own language and then approached.

“Jango Fett, Buir asked me to show you to your room.”

Tim frowned slightly at the unknown word.

“Parent,” Mij called for him. “Jango is Jaster’s son.”

But with a different last name? Then again who knew how they did names here.

“Tim,” he rasped out and then Jango offered his arm. Tim reached out slowly but it was his forearm that Jango gripped, not his hand.

“Su cuy'gar Tim,” Jango answered, he seemed a bit awkward but genuine enough so Tim smiled back at him, unable to speak enough to return the greeting. “Ready?”

Tim looked at Mij who nodded, a gentle expression on his face. He glanced down at the medical gown and they both chuckled in response, then Mij handed him a bundle of black.

“It won’t be a good fit, you’re a bit smaller than most of the human or near-human crew, but it’s the best we could do for now,” the doctor explained, and Tim nodded.

He took the fabric and then stepped into the small bathroom. It was one piece, kind of like Nightwing’s uniform but all black. He took off the gown and then began pulling the stretchy material on, it was warm and clingy but comfortable. It was also definitely at least two sizes too big so he had to roll the legs and sleeves up a bit. So embarrassing. He wasn’t small for his age! Well…maybe a little but not that much!

He left the bathroom and caught the amused looks on Mij and Jango’s faces.

“Come on, I’ll show you your bunk.”

Tim nodded and slowly followed Jango out of the only room he’d seen since waking. The hallways were wider than he expected, armoured figures moving about, some with helmets and some without. And they seemed to be a mix of species. He’d never seen so many obvious aliens of different kinds together and he found himself shifting closer to Jango.

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Jango wasn’t sure what to think of Tim, except that it sounded like it was painful for him to talk still. He seemed easy going, a bit hesitant but that probably wasn’t surprising since he was in a strange place. A glance at the other teen revealed wide eyes, Tim shifting closer to him as the crew moved about them. Hmm…had he never been off his home planet before? It seemed to be the Mando of different obviously different species that were throwing him off.

They barely knew anything about him except his age and now his name, or at least part of his name. The way he moved though…Tim was trained in some form of fighting. That was good if he ended up in Jaster’s care for good. Many Mando came to them untrained while others had previous martial training. At Tim’s age, it was good to have training since he would catch up with the other Foundlings his age quicker.

He made it to a room that had been cleared out, Myles would be sharing with him for the rest of their time on the ship. He had volunteered to give Tim his room before anyone else had gotten the chance to speak. He’d left some datapads behind, probably the beginner Mando modules but other than that the room was bare, except the standard bedding.

“Room’s yours, take whichever bunk you prefer,” Jango told him. “There’s a private fresher through that door.” He figured that was why Myles had given up his room, so Tim would have privacy. “Here, I’ll show you the door controls.”

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Tim sat down on the bottom bunk, looking around. The room was bare but he got the feeling it hadn’t been before, had someone given up their room for him? He felt bad about that, he didn’t want to cause issues. He didn’t know what to do, was he allowed to leave the room?

He wanted to be home, even in the empty Drake Manor. But the thought of Wayne Manor, of Bruce ruffling his hair or Dick tossing him in the air, of Alfred nodding proudly and slipping him a cookie…he wanted it desperately. But the thought of Gotham also scared him. The Joker…he shivered at the memory of his voice, of the pain and terror. He’d wanted Tim…wanted to change him, drive him as insane as he was…remake him in his own image. It made him feel sick to think of.

And his team…Kon, Bart, Cassie, and the new members Secret and Arrowette, Cissie. He’d enjoyed helping Secret adjust to being with the team, to live without the fear of being caged again because they wouldn’t allow it. He hoped that Cassie had taken command, Kon would want it but he wasn’t ready for it. He might have received the tube training but that didn’t equal real life experience. He wanted his friends, his chosen family. He missed the Super-Cycle too

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Kon sat in his room, staring at their team photo, fingers tracing over Rob’s form. Why hadn’t Batman called them in earlier, when Robin was taken? They would have dropped everything to save him from the Joker. But by the time Batman called…their leader was gone. Other than the blood, there was no sign of him anywhere.

He wasn’t dead, he couldn’t be! Rob was his first real friend; he had given him a chance when not even Superman would. They were best friends, even if he didn’t know his real name. It didn’t bother him, he knew Robin trusted him, it was Batman who insisted he keep his id secret so they all accepted it.

Robin couldn’t be dead, he would know, right? He would have heard his heart stop if he had died. He would have. They had to find him.

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Mij looked over the results of Tim’s various tests. His voice might have a permanent rasp to it but at least he would still have a voice. No sign of any diseases but also none of the standard immunisations. And near-human…maybe? There were some differences in his genetics but Mij knew there were a lot of medical alterations to the base human species to ensure better health and longer lives…and Tim was missing all of those. And it seemed he had suffered some mild malnutrition that appeared to be being corrected more recently. Most of the injuries seemed to be recent, the last year or so, the same timeline as the improvement in nutrition.

And then the results from the Republic standard test popped up and he checked the result chart. Well, that was interesting.

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Jaster tapped on the door and it opened after a few moments to reveal Tim. “Did Jango show you around or just to your bunk?”

The boy blinked and then tapped the door.

“It’s time for mid-meal, I’ll show you to the mess. You’re free to make use of it whenever you’re hungry, we’re well stocked on rations,” Jaster assured him, the ad was too skinny.

Tim nodded and followed him, Jaster explaining how to navigate the ship. The ad hesitated at the entry, taking in the crowd.

“No one will hurt you,” he promised again.

Tim nodded and followed him inside. He showed the ad where things were, serving him the blander food, and then led him to the table.

“If you want to try adding spices, you can try these, might be best not to put them right on the food though,” he warned, pointing out the bottles, and Tim nodded, picking them up to look over curiously.

Jaster was glad he had taken the time years ago to learn to speak basic as well as he did Mando. The ad wouldn’t be able to communicate with a lot of the crew even once he got his voice back fully.

“Th...ank,” Tim rasped out.

“Don’t stress your voice ad. And there is no debt.”

That got a wary look, obviously the boy assumed there would be a price for their aid, not surprising really.

“You are an ad and, in our care, no matter how temporarily. Therefore, your needs and care fall to me. We’re making a supply stop on a nearby planet, so we’ll get you some clothing that will fit you. We have learning modules if you want to learn our language but we can also pick up Republic modules if you want to learn to write basic in the galactic standard way.”

Tim nodded cautiously. What kind of world was he from to expect everything to come at a cost when he was just a child? He bore no chip, no marks of a slave collar so it didn’t seem to be that. They’d freed plenty of slaves over the years, he knew what they were like and it wasn’t that. When they found his home, they would need to carefully investigate his family and ensure he was truly safe and loved there.

Jaster could admit he felt drawn to Tim, wanted him in his aliit, but as long as his own cared for him then he would let the ad go.

He drew out a datapad with star maps on it. He brought them up and held it between them. “I thought we could start looking for your home.”

Tim nodded and began looking over the maps, shaking his head, so Jaster brought up the next ones.

,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,

Tim had been fascinated by Superman, the Lanterns…so once he had access to the bat systems, he had enjoyed looking at the maps they held of the Lanterns patrol sectors. His basically photographic memory meant he remembered them and nothing Mr Mereel was showing him looked at all familiar.

“Could you draw some constellations known on your world? Perhaps someone will recognise them.”

Tim nodded and took the offered tools drawing out some of the best-known constellations and then the basic design of the solar system, circling the third planet from the sun.

“Your home?”

Tim nodded. “Ee…” he stopped and swallowed. “Earth.”

“Earth…I don’t recognise that name but I will query all of the Haat Mando'ade. Many have spent years as mercenaries and bounty hunters spread across the galaxy.”

Tim nodded but he honestly didn’t think anyone would recognise it. He had the sinking feeling he was further from home than anyone was thinking.

,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,

Mij smiled as Tim appeared in the doorway of the medical bay, looking pleased with himself. He was learning to navigate the ship, good. “Su cuy'gar Tim,” he greeted, getting a wave in response as Tim joined him, head tilted to the side curiously.

“I wanted to discuss some of your test results with you,” he explained, pulling out a stool for him to sit on so Tim did. “I found no trace of any diseases but you are also missing any immunisations, which puts you at risk. We’ve all had ours but that doesn’t rule out that we could have been exposed.”

Blue eyes went wide, the concern obvious, so he knew what Mij was talking about. He imitated injecting his arm.

“You’ve had inoculations?” he asked, and Tim nodded. “Tim…do your people have space travel?” if that was true then how had he ended up on Korda Six?

Tim held his hand up and wiggled it side to side. He pulled out the spray and used it, swallowing a few times. “Not o…ours.”

Mij frowned, trying to decide the most likely meaning. “You use another worlds technology?”

Tim nodded and then drew something new…a space station in orbit of the third planet.

“So, you have a space station but not ships?” he clarified, getting another nod.

Well, that explained his lack of inoculations, he must have ones for his world but not others. And…it explained the differences that had Mij considering he might be near-human rather than human.

“I’d like to give you the inoculations, it would need to be in batches to let your immune system adjust. I’m worried if you don’t have them.”

Tim bit his lip but then nodded.

“Thank you, Tim,” he smiled at the ad. He brought out the first injector, letting Tim look it over since it was obviously different to what he was used to.

He watched Tim try to roll the sleeve up enough before giving up and stripping to the waist. The ad shrugged at him, both of them knowing Mij had already seen it all after all. He didn’t seem uncomfortable being seen so why had he panicked in the tank? Various worlds had different views on nudity. Perhaps it had been the fear of a lack of undergarments that had caused the panic? An ad with strangers, that was very likely taboo, it was in many human societies to keep ad safe.

He pressed the injector to Tim’s arm, feeling him tense a bit but then it was done. “I’d like you to wear a medical monitor, just to be safe. If your people have never had these shots then we can’t say for sure there won’t be side effects.” He held the wrist monitor up and Tim looked it over so he handed it to him, seeing the way sure and nimble fingers checked it over. He had some experience working with technology then. He slipped it onto his wrist, watching the screen as readouts went active.

“We found evidence of mild though long-term malnutrition that has begun to be corrected,” he mentioned gently, watching pale cheeks turn pink, Tim not meeting his eyes. “It is not an uncommon finding in Foundlings,” he assured him, Tim looking up in curiosity.

“Foun…dlings?”

“Ad who are taken in by Mando due to a lack of family or because they have been removed from unsuitable guardians.”

Tim smiled and pointed to himself.

“You are already a foundling then?”

Tim nodded.

“And that is why the malnutrition has begun being corrected.” Well, that complicated the Mand’alor’s possible claim then, but Tim was nodding again. “And the broken bones?”

Tim lifted his closed fits in an unfamiliar guard position.

“Fighting?” he asked and Tim waved his hand again. “Training?” that got a firmer motion. So mostly training. “Military?”

Tim huffed softly. “No…differ…t…” his frustration was obvious.

“Don’t push Tim, you need to let your vocal cords recover.”

He frowned but nodded. Mij understood, being unable to communicate properly, especially in a new society, would be frustrating and even scary. Sadly, the translators they’d tried hadn’t recognised his written language so that ruled out downloading a text to speech program or even just reading what he wanted to say, they couldn’t even buy a protocol droid to help him. It could take months for his voice to recover as much as possible, he didn’t think it would be a full recovery but enough that he’d be able to talk. They’d just have to be patient and hopefully he could pick up reading and writing quickly.

,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,

“No! We’re not doing this,” Dick growled, arms crossed over his chest. He couldn’t believe it. There was no body, nothing. They were not faking Tim’s death! “No one has even noticed he’s missing yet; we’re got time. Tim’s out there someone relying on us to find him.”

“How? You saw the blood, Dick; he couldn’t survive that without immediate help and even then, his chances would have been low. Tim…Tim is dead, you’re going to have to accept that,” Bruce stared at him, eyes dark.

He shook his head and stormed away, not willing to listen. No, he knew Tim was alive. He trusted his instincts, he always had.

TBC…

Chapter Text

Disclaimer: not mine

Chapter 3

Tim dressed in his new clothing, relieved it fit a lot better even though it didn’t blend in. He left his room and headed for the mess for breakfast. He was picking up some words of Mando since most of the crew only spoke it. He could manage a few phrases a day now, his vocal cords on the mend. He got his food and sat down with Jango and Silas, smiling at them in greeting.

“How are the learning modules going?” Jango asked, and Tim pulled out the datapad and stylus, carefully writing out his full name in basic.

“Timothy Jackson Drake,” Jango read and then looked up at him. “That’s your name?”

Tim nodded.

“So, Tim is a shorter name.”

“Easier,” Tim agreed. “Like.”

Silas said something to Jango that Tim didn’t understand.

“He was asking how your Mando learning is going.”

Tim nodded and then wriggled his hand. He listened to them talk, Silas in halting basic and Mando, Jango translating to help them both learn since Silas wanted to get better as basic. Silas wasn’t human but Tim wasn’t going to ask what he was, that would be rude. There were lots of aliens on the ship and while Tim was curious he would wait till he could read well enough to look things up himself.

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Jaster set his work aside, stretching briefly to work the kinks out of his spine. He then picked up the star charts he’d shown Tim before and the drawings the ad had done. Nothing matched but how was that possible? Was it possible…Tim was from somewhere in Wild Space? Some planets from the area were known, true, their people generally looked down on. But if he was from a world deeper in…it could explain his speaking basic but knowing a different writing type.

But it still left the question of how he had ended up bleeding out on Korda Six. He glanced at the report Mij had shown him. it was a blood test run in Republic space but not their own, usually but he understood why Mij had run it given all the questions surrounding Tim. According to the result chart, if he’d been born on a Republic planet then Tim should be at the Coruscant Temple. He wasn’t much above the minimum though, so maybe he’d been missed? Jaster had asked Mij to run the test on him, just for a comparison, and honestly, he hadn’t been all that surprised to find out that he barely missed the minimum level.

Should they reach out to the Jedi about Tim? Many would not like it but the Jedi knew places like Wild Space the best. And yet…would they take Tim into the Temple rather than send him home? If Tim was unable to return home, Jaster would prefer he stay with them. His ad liked Tim; he liked Tim too…he seemed to slip into the fold easily enough. But would Tim want to become a Mando?

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Mij checked Tim over and smiled. “You’ve gained some weight Tim’ika,” he praised. “The spices still giving you issues?”

He was pleased when Tim shook his head, he’d adapted quicker than he’d expected to the general ship rations.

“I’m clearing you for light training, if you want to try? Our methods are likely different to what you have been learning.”

Tim cocked his head to the side, considering, but he nodded. It would be good for him to train with them, keep his body moving even as they worked to get him to a better weight for his age, hopefully he’d grow a bit too.

Mij was doing some careful research on those who were touched by the Ka’ra as they called it, many of them trained as Goran. He noticed they tended to eat more when able but could go longer without food, using it to sustain themselves somehow? So, they needed to watch Tim’s food intake. They would need to keep an eye out for any of the obvious jetii powers too, whether he had training or not. Especially if startled or overly emotional since those were likely to cause an accidental lashing out.

Thankfully, Tim didn’t seem too traumatised by what had happened to him, though he would need to see a mir’baar’ur to speak about things eventually. His voice was returning which would make it easier.

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Tim sat down opposite Jaster; he had the feeling he knew why the man had asked to speak with him. “Su'cuy,” his voice still sounded raspy but it didn’t really hurt.

Jaster blinked and then smiled at him. “Su'cuy, Tim,” he returned. “I’ve had several people going through records and we cannot find any known system that matches your home and you don’t recognise any on our charts. We will keep looking ad’ika,” he promised, and Tim nodded.

“Where go?” he asked.

“We will not send you anywhere you do not wish to go,” Jaster promised which was a relief.

The only people he knew were on this ship and while he was pretty good at making friends thanks to years of changing boarding schools…he didn’t want to have to start fresh again in somewhere so alien. And Jango had explained about Foundlings to him even more than had already been explained. He could go with them and he would be given a place to live, food, and education until he was grown and ready to set out on his own.

“The main two options would be remaining with us or going to the jet…Jedi Temple.”

The what? He titled his head in question. Since they basically lived in armour, they were really good at reading body language.

“You don’t know about the Jedi?” Jaster clarified, and Tim agreed.

What followed was a very interesting explanation but why send him to them? He didn’t have powers. And then Jaster showed him the test results. What? How?

But when he really considered it…there’d been those times he dodged…his grapple had latched on at the last second, saving him from a deadly fall…the Joker hadn’t tied the straps tight enough…or had he?

He swallowed, feeling a little dizzy, but firm hands gripped his shoulders gently, steadying him.

“Breath with me ad’ika,” Jaster ordered, and Tim obeyed. “It’s okay, it doesn’t change anything if you don’t want it to.”

Tim slowly nodded as his breathing steadied out. While the idea of Jedi sounded interesting to a point…something told him going to them would not be helpful, was that the Force telling him things? He’d always just thought he had good instincts. How could the Lanterns not know about the Force? He really needed to get to the point he could read basic fully so he could research everything.

“You can stay with us, come to Manda'yaim and live there. There are Foundling homes for ad who have no family, aliit. Or…you could accept adoption.”

“Who?” Tim asked, someone would want to adopt him?

He was halfway to being an orphan already with his mom dead and dad in a coma, no one sure if he’d ever wake or not. Sure, Bruce had taken him in as a foster, but it was all business, he couldn’t be Robin from a group home or foster placement after all. But no one wanted him for just being him.

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“Who?” Tim seemed genuinely bewildered by the idea that someone would want to adopt him.

“Well, Mij for starters.” And sure enough, Tim looked utterly shocked. “Kal as well. And…Jango and I would be very happy if you wanted to join our aliit.”

Tim’s eyes were wide, mouth agape slightly. He pointed to himself, and Jaster nodded. He nervously bit at his lip, staring at the deck. Jaster stayed quiet, letting the ad think. Eventually, the ad looked up, hesitantly meeting his eyes. And then Tim reached out to tap his hand, Jaster feeling a surge of hope.

“Stay…with you,” Tim rasped out.

Jaster smiled at him, reaching out to rest his hands on Tim’s shoulders. “Will you be my ad?” he asked to be sure, and Tim nodded shyly. “Ni kyr'tayl gai sa'ad Tim Drake,” he said the gai bal manda very happily. “I know your name as my child, Tim Drake,” he said it again in basic.

Tim blinked at him in surprise.

“There is some paperwork but that is all it takes.”

“Wish…easy home.”

“Most societies make it more difficult than it needs to be,” he shrugged.

He then brought out the paperwork, going through it with Tim. He was now Tim Drake, clan and house Mereel. And he signed as Tim Drake and not with the full name he had before. It was up to him what he wanted his name to be.

Jaster wasn’t sure if Tim would accept, but he opened his arms in offering and Tim hesitated but then slowly shifted into his arms. “Ner ad,” he whispered.

Tim looked up at him, lips moving soundlessly. “Ner buir.”

Jaster smiled at his new son, carefully reaching out to stroke black hair, the boy tensing in surprise before relaxing against him. He recognised the behaviour Tim had shown since waking, he was at least somewhat touch starved. Mij’s report said Tim had been taken in by someone and that was why his malnutrition had begun to be fixed. He got the feeling he only wanted to meet Tim’s buir if armed, definitely dar'buir. But his newer guardian…well, if they ever found Tim’s home then they could work out a compromise on custody, depending on Tim’s preferences and age.

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Jango grinned and wrapped an arm around Tim’s shoulders, making sure he saw him coming. “Welcome to the aliit, ad’ika.” And Tim relaxed, had he really thought Jango wouldn’t like it?

“Okay?” Tim asked, and Jango nodded.

“I knew buir was going to ask you Tim,” he assured him. He sat and Tim sat beside him, watching him curiously. “Before Jas’buir adopted me…I had a family, two buir and…an ori'vod.”

Tim frowned, going over the new word. “Sibling?”

“Older sibling,” he corrected his translation. “Her name was Arla. She died in the same attack as our buir. We gave Jaster support and a place to hide while he was being hunted by Kyr'tsad and they attacked.”

“Sorry,” Tim’s voice was a raspy whisper, even as he gripped Jango’s wrist. He grabbed the nearby datapad and stylus, writing carefully and slowly.

Jason, ori’vod, dead. Dick oldest ori’vod alive. Bruce is buir.

“The ones who took you in?” he asked, and Tim nodded. The mix of Mando’a and basic was good to see, Tim was obviously working on the learning units for both languages.

Man hurt me, killed Jason before.

Jango closed his eyes. “We find your home, we’ll deal with him if your buir hasn’t,” he promised. Older or not, this Jason was likely still a kid. And after killing one, he’d tried to kill Tim too.

But Tim shook his head, looking almost distraught so Jango let it go. Tim wasn’t able to communicate enough to explain what was going on.

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Silas sat down beside Tim, offering him a smile and getting one in return. “Jate vaar'tuur.”

“Morning,” Tim answered in basic, but they’d understood each other, that was good. He’d caught the curious looks Tim gave the non-human crew members and Jango said his planet didn’t have their own ships, just a space station so maybe he hadn’t seen many before.

“Pantoran,” he said, and Tim frowned in confusion. “Species.” He kept to single words to keep the explanation simple for both of them.

Blue eyes widened in understanding and Tim nodded. Silas grinned and began pointing out the others, saying their species name in both basic and Mando’a.

Tim was one of them now, Jango’s vod. Jango was his friend and Silas wanted to be Tim’s friend too. He seemed nice, a bit shy but surely that wasn’t surprising since he’d literally appeared somewhere he didn’t know and with strangers.

And sharing words was a good way to help build their vocabularies of each other’s language. “Spar?”

And that had Tim perking up, eyes bright. Even before finding out, he’d been in training, most of them had picked up on that from the way Tim moved. So, Silas led him to the hold where they had a sparring area.

“Only light sparring!” Mij called out when he spotted them, and Silas nodded.

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Tim carefully stretched, not wanting to risk injury after captivity and then recovery. And Mij was in the room, he didn’t want to risk being restricted to bed or something. Silas stepped into the marked ring with a grin and Tim stepped in as well, assuming it meant whoever left the circle first lost. He preferred fighting with a bō but Bruce had been very thorough in his hand-to-hand training. Unlike Bruce, he didn’t focus on learning and mastering one style at a time, instead he took bits and pieces from all of those he was exposed to and used what worked for him. He was the smallest and physically weakest of the Robin’s after all. But he had been trained by experts.

They circled, watching each other closely, searching for weaknesses. He could feel others watching them but put it out of his mind, he couldn’t afford to be distracted. It was even more necessary because neither of them were familiar with the way the other fought.

Silas attacked and Tim blocked, glad the other had removed his armour, not that he wore as much as the others but he’d heard the noise that stuff made when it impacted and knew it would hurt. Tim ducked under another blow, shifting in, and aiming for Silas’ ribs.

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Jaster walked into the hold since Mij had commed him. He immediately spotted the two ade in the sparring circle. They were going slow and careful, probably because of Mij’s presence. Tim was good, a lot more patient then many his age, watching Silas closely in order to dodge, block, or counterattack. He got the feeling Tim preferred fighting with a weapon but he wasn’t bad with hand to hand.

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Tim lay on his bunk, looking around the small room that had become his over the last…weeks? It was very easy to lose track on the ship but Jaster said they would be on Manda'yaim, their home…his new home? There was still a chance he would get back to Earth, one day, but would it be within a reasonable time? Or would he have adjusted by then; would it have been so long that everyone would have moved on without him? Unless he could get home within a year or two, would there be any point in trying? Send a message to let them know he was alive, sure, but to go back after so long?

Would B…would he backslide? He’d been doing better recently, less angry and violent but without Robin to temper him, would he go back to being too violent? Would Dick realise and intervene? Would…would Batman take on a new Robin? He’d always known his place was temporary but being replaced wasn’t something nice to think about. Would they be angry that he let Jaster adopt him so quickly? But he felt…safe with the man, he could trust him. He knew his Dad would never forgive him for wanting to be part of another family – whether it was Bruce’s or Jaster’s. Was his Dad still alive? He’d seen the looks from the doctors during his last visit, they didn’t think he was going to wake up.

He rolled onto his side, curling inward and closing his eyes. He wasn’t going to cry, he wasn’t. He just…he wanted to go home but he was scared, he’d never been scared of Gotham before but he’d never been tortured either. He could now understand all of the people who wanted the Joker to be killed. If confronted with his tormentor, would Tim snap and try to kill him or collapse in a terrified ball and wait for death? He didn’t know and that scared him.

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Jaster paused as he heard something…he moved to the door and listened, hearing the muffled noise within. He touched the control and the door opened, unlocked. “Tim?” he called softly, and then he heard it, sobbing. “It’s alright ad’ika,” he murmured, approaching the bunk slowly.

Without his buy'ce, the room was dark, but he knew where the bunks were and there, on the lower, was a curled-up lump. He sat on the edge and reached out to where he thought Tim’s head was, sure enough his fingers found soft hair. And then a shaking body was in his arms and he held on tight.

“It’s alright,” he murmured. “I’ve got you, you’re safe.”

They’d been expecting something like this. Tim had been far too well adjusted since coming out of the bacta tank. So, he leant back against the cabin wall, just holding Tim as he cried, glad he’d taken most of his armour off so it wasn’t hurting Tim. He remained like that, even after Tim drifted to sleep on his arms.

The next morning, Tim was stiff and red with embarrassment, but Jaster didn’t let him pull away because of that. Instead, he just stroked Tim’s hair, assuring him that everything was alright, and gradually Tim relaxed, curling into him. eventually Jaster got them up, waiting for Tim to clean up before heading for first meal, making sure the ad drank plenty of water since he’d cried so much overnight.

Jango and Silas saw and were soon on either side of Tim, protecting him from curious onlookers.

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Tim stood beside Jaster and Jango as the ship came out of hyperspace, watching the streaks of light vanish until they were hovering in space over a planet. Manda'yaim, his new home whether temporary or permanent. It looked so different to Earth.

“Welcome home, Tim,” Jaster told him, a hand on his shoulder.

Jango was pressed slightly against his side, his new family supporting him. And Tim smiled, excited with the idea of exploring a new planet.

The descent was so smooth, even as they entered the large dome, and he barely felt the landing, watching everyone secure their helmets before they moved to disembark. Jaster and Jango kept him between them as they stepped onto the planet, Tim stumbling a little, Jaster steadying him.

“Easy, you’ve gotten used to being shipboard, it can take a few moments to adjust.”

They headed into the spaceport, some of the Mando heading off, going home Tim assumed.

“Welcome to Keldabe, Tim’ika,” Jango told him, and Tim looked around as they walked out of the spaceport and into the city.

It looked and felt old, stone buildings and narrow streets. But he could hear the bustle of a busy city as well. Voices called out in greeting to Jaster who would respond, Tim catching some words here and there. He picked out where they were heading easily enough, it was a large complex of stone buildings seemingly in the centre of the city. Of course, Jaster was the leader, the Mand'alor.

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It was good to be home and with a new ad too. He would need to be taken to the goran but it was obvious Tim was overwhelmed so it would need to wait until the next day. Thankfully, a room had been prepared for him, next to Jango’s already so he was soon settled in with the small bag of belongings he had accumulated onboard.

They would eat in the family karyai to help give him peace to adjust for the next few meals at least. No one would ever rush an ad to adjust to their new life too quickly, it had to be done at their pace.

Tim’s room had been well prepared for welcoming a new Foundling, the bedding was warm and brightly coloured, the wardrobe with clothing in his measurements, datapads waiting for him to explore whatever he wished. Though Jaster did wonder if someone had gotten Tim’s age wrong given the stuffed Tooka on the bed, but Tim didn’t seem upset by it. No, he picked it up, smiling slightly as he squeezed it gently.

,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,

He huddled closer to the others, seeking warmth. It was automatic to reach up but there was nothing there now, nothing but the sting of a very slight burn. He’d made his choice, he didn’t regret it, he couldn’t. He was following the Will of the Force; it told him his place was with the Young. But huddled in an old sewer tunnel, he couldn’t help longing for the warmth and peace of the Temple.

TBC….

Chapter Text

Disclaimer: not mine

Chapter 4

“Staring at it won’t make it go away, Jas’buir,” the amused comment had him looking up to see his youngest leaning against the doorway, a slight smile tugging at his lips.

It was amazing the difference a year could make. Ad’Alor be Mandalore was what his people had taken to calling Tim, a title that had caused the teen to go bright red when he worked out the translation. In the last year he had grown three inches, filling out to match his new height, not that he was overly tall but he’d caught up with most of his human agemates. Jango teased him though since he was still taller, though not by much now. Black hair was down to his shoulders and his skin was tanned from time in the training fields. He wore training armour, his body still adjusting to the weight and the Goran was having fun making armour to fit his flexibility and liking for flips. He’d be ready for full beskar'gam soon though and Jaster was looking forward to him being properly protected.

He'd really settled into life on Manda'yaim, no longer shy or hesitant. His voice had never fully recovered, retaining a rasp even as it broke with puberty, but that didn’t stop him from speaking up in strategy meetings. He was good, very good at strategy. Thanks to some of his comments and plans they were doing a lot better at rooting out Kyr'tsad.

“Kryze,” he explained, and Tim grimaced in understanding, moving to sit in front of his desk. “Don’t you have training right now?”

Tim nodded. “The Goran said I should come to you.”

Jaster leant forward, he didn’t know much about how the Goran was training Tim with his abilities but Tim was definitely showing signs of having more control. “What is it?”

“A feeling…calling? She said I’m meant to follow it.”

Jaster frowned. “Is it on planet?”

Tim shook his head. “It feels far away, out of the system.”

He stared at his son; he had not left Manda'yaim in the past year since he had so much to catch up on. He’d had training, but not in their ways and his education had been so far behind…more proof his world had yet to discover hyperspace. Thankfully, Tim was highly intelligent but it would still take longer to catch up in his education. He didn’t like the idea of Tim leaving without full armour either. Durasteel or Beskar, either would be better protection than the partial set Tim currently wore.

“She’s finished my armour,” Tim told him, shifting slightly in the chair, a nervous action.

He hadn’t sworn the Resol'nare or undergone his verd'goten yet, despite being almost fifteen. Those who came to them older either had already been through enough to count or would take it older. Could this be the Ka’ra pushing him towards his verd'goten?

They were still searching for Earth as best they could but there were no leads. Tim still kept a lot of his old life back but that was alright, he was still seeing the mir’baar’ur and hopefully had opened up more to them. Cin vhetin was central to their society, if Tim chose to leave his past in the past, then that was his choice. He knew his ad still missed his old family, he likely always would, but he didn’t let it stop him from reaching out to his new one.

“Do you know anything of what is calling to you?” he asked, bringing up a blank report form.

“It’s dangerous,” Tim murmured, eyes closed as he focused. “A war?” he frowned and then his eyes opened and he shrugged.

Well, he wasn’t sending Tim into a potential warzone alone. He brought up a list of available ships and verd’e. Jango’s squad was available and his ad would likely not be pleased if he sent Tim without him. He had really taken to being a big brother, even if it wasn’t by much. Thankfully, Tim’s calendar translated to their own and he had been born in the mid-year, what he called July, so in eta'tuurar, while Jango had been born in the second month of theirs, tad'tuurar. Jango had already turned fifteen but Tim would in another two months. Sending both of them into a possible warzone might be risky, but he trusted they would be able to protect themselves and each other. They would have a well shielded ship and a full squad to back them up.

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Tim shifted to make sure his kute was comfortable and settled. The material was different to his old Robin suit, designed to help regulate his temperature and ensure he didn’t end up soaked in sweat, it was also knife resistant. Then he pulled on his nearly knee-high boots, testing the flexibility. They were longer and lighter than traditional for a human but Tim needed the extra movement, he was more acrobatic than the average Mando.

He entered the main room where the Goran waited with his armour only to find his buir and ori’vod there as well. They were both smiling proudly at him and Tim fought down a blush.

“Of course we came to see you put your beskar'gam on for the first time,” Jango grinned at him.

“It’s not the real beskar version yet though,” Tim argued.

“Doesn’t matter,” Jango smiled at him. “This is a big step in an ad’s life, the lead up to their verd'goten and swearing the Resol'nare.”

Tim nodded. Sometimes it all still felt unreal, like he’d wake in his bed in Drake manor any moment, alone as always. Or he’d wake up in Wayne Manor to Alfred calling him to breakfast, Bruce and maybe even Dick at the table. But that never happened and he had the feeling it never would, that he’d never see them again. His family and friends were so far away that he could see no way home.

The Goran handed him the first piece of armour and he began securing it to his kute. This armour didn’t have the ka'rta beskar, not yet, but it had everything else. It was heavier than his Robin armour but he’d spent the last year getting used to wearing heavier pieces so it wasn’t too bad. It’d be even heavier in beskar.

“This, however, is beskar,” Jaster held something out and Tim reached out to take it, frowning in confusion before his eyes widened.

He found the activation and it extended into a bō…made of beskar. “Buir…”

“Even has a hidden blade in it like you told me,” Jango smirked. “You should have a familiar weapon after all.”

Blasters and beskad had been what he’d been using in training. The beskad wasn’t so bad, Shiva had insisted he know to use any blade he could get his hands on, including swords. But blasters were very different to guns, the closest he’d found in his research were slug throwers and they were considered archaic by most. The weight, balance…everything about blasters was so different. not that he had much experience with guns but when he was ten Jack had decided he needed to do some father-son bonding, and he’d been home because his school was shut due to a virus. So, they’d spent four days at some rich retreat for fishing and hunting, a place where money was what mattered rather than the fact Tim was very underaged. He’d learnt to shoot there and hadn’t been too bad. But he wasn’t very fond of guns, even with silencers they were loud, not to mention too easily lethal.

But he was a Mando now, or at least one in training. Which meant making lethal shots, defending his vod’e to the death. He just…he’d never killed before. They knew it too, had expected it since he’d said he’d been in training. Explaining vigilantes was kind of hard and he couldn’t tell them everything about it or Earth, because if they did find his home planet then others could too.

Tim raised the bō and then moved, spinning with it, fighting an invisible enemy.

,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,

Jango watched his vod move and yeah, he could see that Tim had primarily trained with that weapon. He looked so much more natural with it then anything they’d worked with him on so far. Sure, he was adjusting to a blaster and even beskad but this was someone trained by a master in their weapon. And his armour moved with him as he flipped into the air. Some of the moves he pulled had Jango wincing. He couldn’t move like that! But Tim had a rather different body type to him, his vod’ika would never pack on the muscle the way Jango had begun. But that was good, the more differences between all of the verd’e, the better since their differences made them better fighters.

He wondered what colours Tim would choose to pain this armour and then his beskar'gam. Maybe white and grey, some blue? And then the Goran handed Tim his buy'ce and Tim stared at the t-visor before putting it on.

“Oh,” Tim murmured, shaking his head.

“Tim?” Jaster sounded worried.

Tim pulled it off, blinking.

“I thought that might happen,” the Goran murmured.

“What happened?”

“It’s the beskar, Tim may not be a jetii but he has subconsciously been using his connection to the Ka’ra all his life and now he has begun training to use it consciously. There is a reason beskar is so useful again jetii, it blocks their connection to the Ka’ra.”

“Osik!” Jango swore.

“Is it only the buy'ce that will give him problems?” Jaster asked in concern.

The Goran nodded. “We’ve found the buy'ce causes the most issues, that is why I tested it now.”

“So, what does that mean for me?” Tim asked, eyeing the buy'ce warily. In response she handed him another that he studied before slipping on.

“That one is durasteel mixed with a very low level of beskar,” she told them.

“How does it feel?” Jango asked, worried, at least he hadn’t pulled it off yet?

,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,

Tim was thankful when it didn’t feel like he’d plunged his head under water this time. That had been a very strange feeling and one he couldn’t stand. He hadn’t realised it was beskar till he’d put it on, he’d been around beskar plenty during his lessons in the forge. So, using it wasn’t an issue and he’d even been used to size a pair of kom'rk with no issue. So, was it just having it over his head that was the issue or would wearing a whole set be bad too? He wasn’t the only one with the Ka’ra but she had admitted he was one of the stronger blessed. He could use more instruction than the Goran could give but there hadn’t been a jetii among the Mando'ade since Tarre Vizsla.

The new buy'ce was a lot better. It was still a little weird but nowhere near as bad as the first one. It was like he had his old Robin comm in his ear too snugly, cutting off a lot of the surrounding noise but still able to mostly hear through it.

“How does it feel?” Jango asked him.

“Like I’ve got one ear mostly blocked but it’s not throwing my balance off like that can,” he explained. He shook his head and then flipped around, all without stumbling so it definitely wasn’t affecting his balance.

“Wear it on the ship to get used to the difference,” the Goran told him, and he nodded. “I have a few options to go through, we’ll find something that works properly.”

“Vor entye.”

The HUD was very different and was taking some getting used to. Sure, his domino had an inbuilt camera, zoom, and night vision but this was very different. He’d gotten so used to the domino on his skin that he’d barely noticed it but a full helmet was very different. The HUD gave more data than he was used to but it wasn’t something he couldn’t get used to.

,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,

Jaster drew Tim into a gentle mirshmure'cya, for the first time it was buy'ce to buy'ce. “Come home safe,” he ordered, and his ad nodded.

“Ret'urcye mhi,” he answered.

The rest of the verde were already on board, the ship ready for take-off. Jaster forced himself to release Tim, pulling Jango in as well. Sending them both into a potential warzone was not something he wanted to do, but even on Manda'yaim they weren’t truly safe, not with Kyr’tsad still causing trouble. They didn’t like him having another ad at all but Tim had been kept too close to truly be a target.

He watched his ade walk up the ramp which sealed behind them and then the ship took off.

,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,

Dick quickly opened the door and let himself into the bedroom, glancing around. Nothing had changed since he’d last come, a shrine to a missing child…just like Jason’s room. It wasn’t fair! He wanted his little brothers back. That was impossible with Jason but with Tim…the hope hurt so much but with no body it was hard to not hope the kid was out there somewhere.

Hal, John, and Kyle were searching for any sign of Tim among the various corps but surely, he would have reached out to them if he had been chosen by a ring. Though if it was a yellow or red ring…Tim reduced to a creature control by his rage and base instincts made him feel sick. The only way to free someone from the Red Ring safely was using a Blue Ring and they were hard to find. And if he wore a Yellow Ring…he’d heard the horror stories of what happened to them, bearers subjected to psychological and physical reconditioning to ensure their loyalty to Sinestro. It was meant to be very brutal but Tim had to have been terrified so it would be understandable if a Ring had come to him.

But if the Lanterns weren’t involved, then how did Tim vanish? Diana had used her lasso on the Joker to force the truth from him and he claimed Tim had vanished from right in front of him, injured but still alive. So there had to be either aliens or magic involved. Constantine, Zatanna, and Raven were doing their own searching as they had time but so far there was no sign of Tim. It had been months, surely if he could, Tim would have come home or contacted them. Was he being held prisoner somewhere? Or…had he succumbed to his wounds?

,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,

Tim looked over the available paints, not entirely sure what to go with but…he could use Robin’s colours, their meanings worked. They would be darker than even his costume but still the right colours. Red for honouring a parent, black for justice, and green for duty. To any aruetii, he would appear a full Mando which was for safety. In just over a year, he’d be old enough to swear the Resol'nare, because he’d been over thirteen when adopted he had to wait till then. Jango had been allowed to swear at thirteen after his verd'goten as normal.

The first thing he painted on was the mythosaur of the Haat Mando’ade in white onto his right bes'mabur. On the left was a stylised bat with an R through it in black and grey for his home and life with the bats. He was Clan and House Mereel but Jaster had been exiled so didn’t use the clan symbol, just the mythosaur. The base colour he used for the two pieces was green. In the end, the colours ended up spread over the armour in a similar way to how his suit had been coloured, though not exactly. His t-visor was also outlined in white, most of the helmet black.  

The surprise on Jango’s face when he saw it was amusing. “What?”

“Good colours,” his ori’vod answered. And apparently not the ones he was expecting. “We’re coming up on the next check point.”

Tim nodded and headed for the cockpit. He liked flying though he wasn’t yet ready to fly a ship yet, but he was the navigator since they were following a feeling in the Ka’ra.

,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,

He pressed his hands to the wound, trying to stop the bleeding even as he tried to take the pain. Joli whimpered, tears in his eyes but Obi-Wan had no words of comfort, all of his focus on keeping the younger boy alive. He was so tired, so hungry, that focusing enough to use the Force was harder than it had ever been. But he had to get Joli stable enough to move back to the sewers.

Finally, he sat back, wiping the blood off his hands before picking Joli up and rushing for the nearest entrance. But in the back of his mind there was something…a whisper…hope. Hope for what? No one had come since Master Jinn had left him behind. He’d held onto hope for several months after than an aide mission would come for the Young, but there was nothing. So, what was there to hope for now?

,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,

Silas watched as they dropped out of hyperspace, feeling nervous. He’d passed his verd'goten and sworn the Resol'nare six months ago but this was the first big mission since then. He’d never been into an actual war before and it didn’t help that they had no idea what they would be walking into. Why had Tim been called to this world? A solid hand landed on his shoulder and he looked up at Myles who nodded at him.

“Melida/Daan,” Jango read out the name of the planet except that one sounded very strange. And then he cursed. “Well, here’s the war you mentioned vod’ika.”

“Jango?” Tim asked warily.

“A centuries long civil war between the Melida and the Daan…records of the jetii managing to negotiate short cease fires but no lasting peace. So why are we here?”

,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,

Tim frowned, staring at the planet before them. Why had the Ka’ra called him to such a world? Were they meant to stop the war? Surely even an entire traat'aliit wouldn’t be enough to… “Oh,” his eyes widened in shock.

“Tim?” Jango called in alarm.

“I…I think there’s someone down there…someone like me.”

“From Earth?” Silas asked, and Tim shook his head,

“No, the Ka’ra.” Was that why he’d been called, to save someone?

“I want full scans before we even consider landing. Watch out for anti-ship weapons too,” Jango ordered.

,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,

Cerasi ducked into the alcove, feeling bad for doing it, but Obi-Wan was their best bet for knowing who was landing and why they might have come. He stirred as she approached, pale and thin, covered in dirt just like all of them. When he’d arrived, he looked so different, healthy and clean, more than she’d ever seen in another child. Food was scarce planet wide as more and more farms had been abandoned or destroyed. She didn’t think anyone had been truly well fed in at least a generation or two.

“What is it?” he asked, blinking blearily up at her, pushing himself upright tiredly.

“A ship.”

He jolted up, eyes wide. “Has anyone seen it clearly?”

“It’s not like the one that brought you, it’s a lot bigger.”

She could see his hope fade a little, she knew part of him still held onto the belief that his Master would come back for them.

“Where are they landing?”

“Outside of the city and not near the Melida or Daan bases.” Which might be good, maybe it was just a ship that had been forced to land for repairs or fuel and wasn’t there to fight.

,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,

Obi-Wan knew better than to hope and surely, he would sense if the Jedi came. He was exhausted, had barely slept, but he still grabbed his rifle and slipped away with the others to see who the ship belonged to and why they had come.

His blood ran cold as he got a look at the armoured figures milling about the ship. No. if either side had hired them… he felt a jolt of terror and then his eyes widened as one of the figures spun to face where he was hidden.

“Pull back,” he hissed into his radio.

“Obi?”

“Mandalorians, nothing we have will get through their armour. Go!”

“It’s okay!” the figure who had turned towards him called; voice distorted by their helmet. “We’re not here to hurt you.” They reached up, removing their helmet to reveal someone who looked around his own age, human or near-human. Not an Elder.

“Vod,” another figure snapped.

“It’s okay Jango,” he answered. He held his hands up and moved a closer. “I can feel you; you don’t have to be scared. The Ka’ra…the Force, it called me here.”

Obi-Wan stared at the Mandalorian in shock. The Force? But when he hesitantly reached out, he realised he could feel the other, warm and welcoming. He shuddered at feeling another Force sensitive for the first time in a year. Before he realised it, he’d moved out of cover, freezing as he did realise what he’d done. But no one shot at him or even reached for weapons, despite his rifle.

“My name is Tim Drake,” he smiled at Obi-Wan.

He looked between the warriors warily but the other who had spoken removed their helmet, revealing another teen. Was it a ship of Young Mandalorians? A few of the taller ones removed some of their most obvious weapons, setting them aside.

“Obi-Wan Kenobi,” he finally answered, tensing as several of the warriors reacted. He shifted back and Tim stepped closer.

“It’s okay,” he promised before glancing back, saying something in Mandalorian, another answering. “Oh…” he looked back at Obi-Wan. “Ah, do you know what your name means?”

He grimaced but nodded, he’d found out when he was seven and researching in the Archives. He knew what his name meant, had read up on Stewjon’s attitude towards Force sensitivity. No-one, child of nothing really did describe his life.

“The Force called you here?” he asked, reaching to feel for the truth.

“Yes,” Tim answered, and the Force rang with agreement.

Why would the Force bring Mandalorians to Melida/Daan?

TBC…

Chapter Text

Disclaimer: not mine

Chapter 5

Tim fought to keep his expression calm when the other boy stepped into view. He was obviously underweight, his ragged clothes hanging off him, hair and eyes dull. Tim wanted to grab the ration bar in his belt pouch and shove it at him but that would just make him run.

“Obi-Wan Kenobi,” the boy finally offered his name, clutching his rifle close as he eyed them all. As some of the others murmured and stiffened, the boy went to move back and Tim stepped closer, hands out.

“It’s okay,” he promised before glancing back. “What is it?” he asked in Mando’a.

“His name means no-one, child of nothing,” Myles answered, obviously upset.

“Oh…” he looked back at Obi-Wan. “Ah, do you know what your name means?” that was awkward, but Obi-Wan grimaced, nodding. Well, at least he didn’t have to explain why they’d reacted.

“The Force called you here?” he asked hesitantly and then Tim felt the slight touch.

“Yes,” Tim answered, and the Ka’ra rang slightly in reaction.

Obi-Wan swallowed, obviously having felt it too. He was obviously on edge, ready to run.

Tim reached for the pouch and slowly drew out the ration bar, holding it out towards him. “Here,” he offered. “We brought supplies – food, medicine, blankets,” he explained gently.

He took another careful step forward. Obi-Wan was tense but he remained in place. He stared at Tim’s face and Tim felt the Ka’ra brush over him again, keeping his own presence calm and welcoming. Slowly, Obi-Wan reached for the ration bar, their fingers brushing as he took it, Obi-Wan tensing a bit in reaction but Tim kept still, letting him take the bar and back off.

“You’re Mandalorians,” Obi-Wan whispered, and Tim nodded.

“Ade are the future,” Tim told him. “No real Mandalorian would hurt a child, Obi-Wan. You’re safe here.”

,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,

Obi-Wan felt so lost even as the Force said he was safe, that Tim was telling the truth. He glanced at the ration bar in his hand, not recognising the writing on it. He carefully opened it and it smelt right so he took a tiny bite, not receiving any warning from the Force. He swallowed and then tensed as his stomach reacted. He wanted to eat the rest but he knew better, he had to go slowly.

The thought of someone bringing supplies…but who for? “Are you here to help the Melida or Daan?”

“We’re here because of you Obi-Wan,” the other helmetless Mandalorian answered. What had Tim called him…Jango? “Who are you with?”

Obi-Wan hesitated. To give the Young away…but if Tim meant what he said about Mandalorians not hurting kids then maybe they’d help them? “Neither of them,” he answered. “We’re the Young.”

,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,

Myles’ hands balled into fists as he heard the ad’s answer. He looked younger than Tim and Jango, maybe Silas’ age. But it was hard to tell when he was filthy and dressed in ragged clothes. Plus, his growth could have been stunted, who knew. Seeing an ad so scared of them always hurt but it seemed Tim was a calming presence. This ad was also touched by the Ka’ra and was why they had come.

The Young…that name gave a pretty good idea as to who made up the faction. The idea of a war faction made up of ad made him feel sick and he knew the others felt the same. Sure, most of them were on the younger side but they were all passed their verd’goten, other than Tim. They’d brought Mij along as the main medic with Anyal as his backup. It was always handy to have a Wookie around if headed for a war zone after all. The threat of limb removal was a great motivator in getting di'kute to stand down.

And then they all listened in horror to a story of buir attacking and killing their own ade.

,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,

Tim felt sick as he listened to Obi-Wan’s story. But at least he’d relaxed a little while he talked, letting Tim get close enough to gently tend to an obvious wound on his wrist with a bandage. He could use a good sonic and then a trip into the ships’ medbay before a week of sleep. Who knew what condition the other Young were in. Did they actually have enough for them? Could they evacuate them all or would they need more ships? Would the ad even want to leave? Surely, they could evacuate at least those under thirteen…how young

“Please Obi-Wan, let us help you,” he murmured, seeing Obi-Wan startle as he realised how close Tim was. He kept his touch gentle as he finished with the wound.

“They won’t stop. They took and tortured a Jedi Master, they don’t want peace,” his voice was trembling slightly.

“We’re Mandose, ad. We can make them stop,” Myles spoke up.  

Obi-Wan looked between them all and Tim could feel the flicker of hope even as Obi-Wan tried not to give in to it. He held his hand out to Obi-Wan in offering and slowly, the other boy took it.

Tim smiled at him, leading him to the ship, the others moving out of the way so as not to crowd him. “Want a sonic?” he offered, seeing Obi-Wan’s eyes light up so he led him to the bunkroom he shared with Jango, showing him the fresher. “I’ll find something clean for you too.”

“Thank you.”

“Ba'gedet'ye,” Tim responded, and Obi-Wan looked confused. “Basic, right. You’re welcome.”

,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,

Obi-Wan looked around the small fresher, checking on everything, finding what looked like two peoples things. He slowly stripped out of his clothes and stepped into the sonic, letting it clean him. It felt like it took hours until finally his skin was clean. He was a lot paler than he remembered, scars littering his body. They all did their best to keep clean, knowing the risks of illness and infection, but it was hard even if the sewers they sheltered in hadn’t been used as sewers in decades. Clean water was scarce and had to be used for the wounded and drinking first.

He'd never been a plump child but now…he could count his ribs, his collarbones too obvious… he shuddered as he took in his body. He was a mess. What would his crechemates think if they could see him now? Bant would throw a fit, she wanted to be a Healer. Quin would break Master Jinn’s nose if able or prank him into insanity if he couldn’t for leaving him despite Obi-Wan making the choice to stay and help. The others wouldn’t be as vocal but they wouldn’t be happy. But it wasn’t Master Jinn’s fault, he had taken him on despite all of Obi-Wan’s faults.

He stiffened as there was a tap on the locked door.

“Obi-Wan? I’ve got clean clothes, it’s a kute, we wear them under our armour but it’s the smallest we’ve got. I’m going to leave it in front of the door and leave the room,” Tim called.

“Okay,” he forced himself to answer. He waited until he heard the hall door shut and then carefully opened the fresher door. Sure enough, the room was empty and there was folded cloth on the ground.

,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,

Tim leant against the wall, waiting patiently for Obi-Wan. He understood very well what he was going through. He hadn’t spent however long in a warzone before buir had found him, but he had been tortured and was nearly dead when he did. It made it hard to trust anyone, especially strangers. And who knew how many others like Obi-Wan there were on the planet.

But that was why Jango was contacting Jas’buir to send more people, baar'ur and mir’baar’ur among them. He was going to need more sessions with Katra when they got home after what they were likely going to be seeing. She had not been at all impressed when he spoke of his birth family. And she hadn’t been happy with B either due to the way he’d treated Tim or the way he’d trained him. Tim had been surprised she wasn’t impressed with Alfred either but then she’d talked it through with him and made Tim face the fact that Alfred was an adult and should not have stood by so often. Dick was given more of a pass due to his own troubled upbringing and youth, plus his guilt over Jason’s death. And that made Tim really worried, if they thought he was dead too…would Dick be able to handle it?

And his friends…he hoped Superman got his head out of his ass when it came to Kon, that Bart was feeling more at home in their time, that Cassie wasn’t feeling pressured by Diana and Donna’s reputations… what did Ives and the others think? Had they been told anything?

He closed his eyes and took a few deep breaths, reaching to the Ka’ra, letting it help his mind settle. He had an overdeveloped sense of guilt and responsibility, thanks to his parents according to Katra. It was too easy for him to spiral, especially when thinking of Earth.

He nearly flinched when another presence brushed his, more ordered than most…more trained? But if Obi-Wan had training…he’d mentioned a jetii…was he a jetii? Or a trainee? Tim relaxed, letting Obi-Wan in, the two of them slipping into a light meditation together. His mental shields felt…shredded and Tim did his best to help soothe the jagged edges, grateful that mental shielding had been his first lesson with several teachers on Earth and then the Goran who had been impressed considering those who had taught him before didn’t use the Ka’ra.

,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,

Obi-Wan found Tim leaning against the wall outside the bunkroom, eyes closed and relaxed, the Force moving about him in a familiar manner…meditation. He couldn’t help reaching out and then went to pull back, shocked when Tim welcomed him, his shields lowering further, letting Obi-Wan in. A joint meditation…how long…he felt like crying as he gave himself to the Force. It wasn’t the same as meditating with Master Jinn, Tim wasn’t another Jedi let alone a Master, but it was more than he’d had in a year. His shields were incredible and Obi-Wan relaxed as Tim soothed over his own, patching them up, especially where the ripped and withered remains of his Padawan bond lingered.

When he finally came back up it was to find he’d collapsed against Tim who had an arm around his waist, easily holding him up. His armour wasn’t exactly comfortable but Obi-Wan hadn’t noticed while they meditated. He pulled back and Tim immediately let go, though he kept his arm there in case Obi-Wan stumbled, thankfully he didn’t.

“Sorry,” he murmured, feeling his face heat.

“You’ve been alone for a while, haven’t you?” Tim asked, and Obi-Wan nodded. “The Jetii they took…was that your teacher?”

Obi-Wan tensed in alarm, it was one thing for them to realise he was Force sensitive, they seemed to accept Tim just fine…but knowing he was a Jedi? Even if he wasn’t one anymore, would that matter?

“Obi-Wan, it’s okay. I have no clue what being a jetii even is really, beside you having the Ka’ra too. I’m adopted, I’m not Mando by birth. My home…it’s a long way away. As in we’ve been searching for a year and nothing,” he explained.

Obi-Wan stared at him. Sure, their numbers had dropped a lot over the centuries, but to not know of the Jedi? But he could feel Tim’s honesty. “Master Tahl was captured…Master Jinn and I were sent to rescue her. The Young helped us and he promised to help them, but she was badly hurt. He refused to stay and help and he said that…that if I stayed, I wouldn’t be a jedi anymore. He took my lightsabre and cut my braid,” he whispered, fingers going to where his little braid had hung.

“I’m sorry Obi-Wan,” Tim murmured. “He never should have done that.”

“It’s my fault, I disobeyed, I drew my sabre on him.”

“It doesn’t matter what you did!” Tim growled. “He’s the adult. And choosing one life over however many ade there are here…he’s the one who did the wrong thing.” Tim stopped and took a deep breath. “Come on, Mij wants to check you over.”

“Mij?”

“He’s the medic. He saved my life when they found me, he won’t hurt you,” Tim explained. “If he gives you a check-up then he’ll have an idea of what the other ad will need.”

Obi-Wan hesitated but his left shoulder still ached…and there was that pain in his side. He wanted to trust Tim, the Force said he could…so he nodded and Tim smiled.

“This way.” Tim led him through the ship, walking slowly for him. “Mij,” he called and an older human or near-human male turned to them. “This is Obi-Wan Kenobi, he’s been on the planet about a year so he’s probably the best off of the Young.”

“Su cuy'gar, Obi-Wan. Please take a seat on the bed. Would you like Tim to leave?”

Obi-Wan shook his head so Tim moved to sit on a nearby stool, out of the way but in his line of sight. He closed his eyes, taking deep breaths to try and stay calm with an Elder so close.

And the Mij began speaking softly, explaining everything he was doing, asking permission before touching him. “I’d like to put you in the bacta tank for at least a day. I’m worried about that rib, it’s an old break and hasn’t healed properly. If we don’t fix it, it will re-break far too easily.”

He glanced at the bacta tank warily. He knew it would help him feel better but it would leave him so vulnerable.

“I’ll stay, no one will get near you except me and Mij,” Tim promised, glancing at Mij who frowned at him but Tim indicated something and the medic nodded.

“Not until I talk to the others,” Obi-Wan said. “They’ll be worried about me, I need to go back and let them know you’re not working for any of the Elders.”

,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,

Jaster grimaced as he ended the comm with Jango. When his eldest had called alone he’d thought his heart had stopped. So Jango had quickly explained that Tim was helping the person the Ka’ra had led him to. Obi-Wan Kenobi, that poor ad. But how had he ended up so far from Stewjoni? Jango had mentioned one of the groups had captured a Jetii…and this Obi-Wan was around the age of a hibir, what did they call them…Padawans? It would explain the Ka’ra calling Tim to him if his teacher had been killed. But surely the jetii would not abandon one of their ad? Unless they thought he was dead?

He sent out the call for more ships to go to Melida/Daan to help end the war and protect the Young.

,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,

Jango smirked when Tim and Obi-Wan left the ship. “Well, there’s actually a person under all that dirt,” he teased, seeing Obi-Wan’s face flush a bit but he seemed less wary which was good. Though he was keeping Tim between him and any of the adult Mando who obviously realised and kept their distance.

And then Mij came out with boxes of medical supplies and they got them settled onto two speeder bikes.

“Obi-Wan, this is Silas. He’ll go with you and Tim to the Young to help hand out the supplies,” Jango explained. He wanted to go too but it was best for one of them to remain with the men and ship. So, Silas was the best option since he was the youngest of them.

Silas had his buy'ce off, his hair flopping around, making him look younger. Jango signalled and Silas nodded, he would watch Tim’s back and keep his comm close.

Tim got on the other speeder bike, Obi-Wan pressed against his back, a comm in his ear so he could direct them.

“They’ll be fine,” Myles assured him as the two speeder bikes vanished into the distance.

“Of course they will.” They better be.

,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,

Neild stood and rushed out into the corridor, blaster in hand. Had they been found? Or had Obi-Wan escaped?

“It’s me!” Obi-Wan’s familiar voice called out. “I’m not alone but they aren’t a threat. They’ve got medical supplies and food.”

Neild frowned. Obi-Wan had ordered the team back, had said the newcomers were Mandalorians. They were mercenaries, bounty hunters. He’d heard of them when he was little because there’d been talk of hiring some to help against the Melida. But Obi-Wan wouldn’t lead enemies to them. He peered around the corner to see two armoured forms with their third general…helmetless faces revealed and…they were young. And with them, were crates of supplies. And Obi-Wan was dressed in some one-piece outfit in black, too big for him, his skin and hair clean. Could this be real?

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Cerasi watched as the two strangers handed out ration packs to the littlest ones and then little Tali crawled into the lap of the human boy, blue eyes widening in surprise but then he smiled softly, running his gloved fingers through her hair.

“You hard,” Tali pouted, and the Mandalorian…Tim laughed.

“It’s armour ad’ika,” he explained gently, but then he removed a glove and offered his hand. “See? Flesh and blood just like you.”

And she promptly gnawed on his fingers, making Cerasi tensed, but Tim didn’t seem mad at all.

“There’s no deceit,” Obi-Wan murmured as he joined her. “When they found out about us…they were all so angry. And they offered help immediately. They came here because the Force brought Tim looking for me.”

“Will you leave with them?” she asked, worried.

“I don’t think they plan to leave till we’re all safe. And I know evacuating us all has been considered.”

Leave? She had never once considered leaving the planet, it was their home. And going with mercenaries? Surely that wouldn’t be smart. Even if these ones were helping, that didn’t mean the rest would.

She looked over where the other was, he was smiling widely as some of the kids played with his dark purple hair. She’d never seen anyone like him before, but Obi-Wan said he was Pantoran, that Mandalorians were very diverse and adopted kids. Tim was adopted.

And then both newcomers moved, throwing themselves over the kids around them as the ceiling shook, dust and some stones falling, Cerasi finding herself under Obi-Wan.

“Another bombing run,” Obi-Wan said, loud enough for them to hear.

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“How often do they happen?” Tim asked in concern as he checked on the ade he’d covered.

“Depends, we hit one of the supply depots two nights ago so they’re trying to chase us out of hiding,” Cerasi explained.

“How do they drop bombs? We didn’t see any ships,” Silas spoke up as he checked on the ade he had protected.

“The Daan have a speeder that’s been very modified. It’s not fast but it can fly just high enough that their bombs can be felt down here,” Obi-Wan explained.

And then their comms sprang to life, Jango calling for them in worry.

“We’re fine ori’vod,” Tim answered his calls. “Though if you want to take out the modified bomber speeder that would be good.”

And of course, Jango was very happy to do so. The quicker backup arrived the better, then they could stop the war. Sure, they probably had enough verd’e to do it but it was safer to wait for backup. So far from what the Young had said, their weapons were pretty old and weaker than modern blasters. It would never penetrate beskar or even Tim’s durasteel beskar’gam. But they did outnumber the Mandose by a lot and would likely band together against them like they seemed to against the Young. Jango wasn’t willing to risk their people or the ade and Tim agreed that it was better to be safe then sorry.  

TBC…

Chapter Text

Disclaimer: not mine

Chapter 6

Feeling the ground shake and the sound of bombs dropping in the distance had gotten his adrenaline going, everyone immediately ready to fight even as he scrambled to call his vod’ika. Hearing his voice was a relief, hearing they were being bombed had made him angry. He grabbed three verd’e and they activated their sen'trase, taking to the air to find that bomber. It meant alerting the locals to their presence when buir was almost a week out but there was no choice. They couldn’t let these demagolka bomb ade!

They quickly found their target and opened fire. Rigged as a bomber, it was very slow and the ‘soldiers’ within were not prepared to face verd’e who were well armed with effective weapons.

They did grab a captive to question, they needed more intel then the ade could give. He knew Tim didn’t like interrogations so it was good that he was with the Young for the night. Tim might have the strategic brilliance to be Mand'alor but he lacked the ability to do some of the things necessary for the role. He might grow into the longer he was with them, but for now it was for the best that he wasn’t the heir. But when Jango became Mand'alor, Tim would likely be his heir. But despite that, he still thought Tim had mandokar, he just came from a society that was different to their own.

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Tim had thought he’d seen poverty and despair when he’d started running supplies to the children in Crime Alley. But this… this was heartbreaking. He had three tiny children cuddled up against him, wrapped in the new blankets and Tim’s own red lined black cloak. Without his buy'ce there was nothing to filter the smell of unwashed bodies but he ignored it. He kept his senses as spread out as possible, on watch, letting Obi-Wan sleep since he usually kept watch in the same way.

Tim wondered how much they could learn from each other, it seemed Jetii training was different to the Mando methods, because they weren’t usually as strong as the Jetii? Tim knew he was on the high end of the sensitivity range for a Mando, currently he had the highest midichlorian count among the Haat Mando'ade or even in the current records they had access to of the Evaar Mando'ade. But Tim knew, Obi-Wan was stronger than him, not that raw power was everything. He’d seen that with the various alien invasion on Earth and even Rogues and Justice League members. So, sharing training between two different methods could be good, if Obi-Wan agreed. he knew the Goran wanted him to get broader training than what they could give but would they agree to him teaching Obi-Wan what he had learnt from them?

At least the bombing had stopped, he’d sensed Jango’s team taking out the bomber, so had Obi-Wan. The kids hadn’t dared to cheer, too scared of being heard, ade so young shouldn’t have learnt to be so quiet. They had to stop this war because even if they evacuated the Young, in a few years there’d just be more unless they killed or sterilised every adult left.

Tim doubted he’d be able to leave the planet without blood on his hands and it made him feel sick. But he’d known it was coming, he was Mando’ade now, not Robin. And war was different to vigilantism. And it was war in defence of children. Dick would understand, so would Alfred since he’d served but B? yep, he was definitely going to need to see Katra when they got home. 

And then he felt a brush, looking up to find Obi-Wan looking at him in concern.

Okay? He mouthed and Tim nodded. Obi-Wan frowned but carefully got up and moved to sit with him and his bundle of ade. “What is it?” he whispered. “Did you sense something?”

Tim shook his head and then leant back against the wall better. “I, uh…” he swallowed. “I’ve never killed before,” he admitted very softly. “Back home, it’s not something you do. We worked with law enforcement and if we killed, they would have turned against us. I’ve known since Jas’buir adopted me that one day…”

“It’s not easy,” Obi-Wan murmured. “As a Jedi, we are to only raise our weapons in defence of ourselves and others, we are not to escalate a situation. Feeling their lives end in the Force…it never gets easier and it shouldn’t, getting used to killing is not something we should do.”

Tim nodded, glad he understood. “You should go back to sleep.”

That got a grimace. “That’s not easy.”

“Yeah,” Tim agreed. He shifted so their shoulders pressed together, carefully trying to help Obi-Wan relax, wrapping his own shields around him too. It worked and the younger teen was soon asleep.

When Silas woke to take watch, Tim let himself fall into a light doze rather than full sleep since Silas couldn’t monitor things like he could. One night of little rest wouldn’t do much to him, Obi-Wan obviously needed the sleep a lot more.

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Cerasi walked with Obi-Wan and Neild, not sure about all three of them going but Obi-Wan seemed sure that the Mandalorians wouldn’t hurt them. If they could help them… but what would they want in return? Surely, they wouldn’t help them for nothing. But they had nothing to give in payment. It was interesting to find that one of the young men who had come to them was one of the leaders of the group. Wasn’t he young for such a position on other worlds?

“Ori’vod,” Tim called and someone around the same age turned, looking relieved to see him. This was his brother? They looked nothing alike.

“Adopted,” Obi-Wan murmured to her.

Oh, that made sense.

Tim was yanked into a hug, their armour clashing together. And then the brother turned to them, pressing a fist to his chest.

“Olarom,” he said.

Tim repeated the salute but spoke in basic. “Welcome.”

“I am Jango Fett and you’ve met my vod’ika, Tim Drake. Our buir, father, is Mand'alor Jaster Mereel. We came here at the calling of the Ka’ra, what others call the Force. Now that we are here, we wish to help you.”

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Tim was proud of how diplomatic Jango was being, no one had been shot or even threatened! Then again, it helped that the faction leaders were younger than them which meant harming them in any way was off the table. And honestly, they were a lot more forthright than any politician. He’d read about how some planets preferred younger leaders, like Naboo, and he could see why.

“Melida/Daan is too far from Manda'yaim for us to defend you without placing an outpost or colony. While this is the Outer Rim, the Republic would eventually find out and would not be happy,” Jango explained. “We’ve also got our own civil war against a terrorist group so we can’t afford to anger the Republic.”

That got wary nods. “Then what can you do?” Neild asked warily.

“Well, buir is also the head of the True Mandalorian Supercommando mercenary company. We can sign a back dated contract to say that the leaders of the Young hired us to end the war or evacuate them.”

“But we can’t afford to pay you.”

“Payment doesn’t need to be credits, we can work something else out,” Tim explained. “All that’s needed is some kind of exchange to make it valid.”

Obi-Wan nodded, jetii were negotiators sometimes, so it made sense the other two would look to him for advice. They moved onboard their ship for security, settling around a table, Silas staying with them.

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Jaster looked at the contract that Jango had sent, reading it through. It was very basic, but it would excuse their presence on the planet for the moment. He wondered what they would arrange as payment, especially if they ended up evacuating the ade. He sent his approval back and then the ship went back into hyperspace.

He’d had too many volunteers for the journey but the information on the situation had come in handy. He had reached out to Adonai because while his people refused to touch weapons, they would be needed once the fighting finished. The ade would need a lot of help and if the planet was to recover from decades or centuries of war then they would need help. The Evaar Mando'ade could help and it would get some of them off planet and away from annoying him.

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Neild watched as Cerasi and Obi-Wan worked to hash out the full contract. He wanted…he wanted the Elders dead, the Halls of Evidence destroyed but none of them seemed to agree. Was he wrong? He just wanted the fighting to be done. Then they could rebuild their home.

“We can’t leave, this is our home,” he stated when it was brought up.

“Without extensive testing, we can’t be sure, but what scans we ran on the way down showed the land and water are all very damaged,” Tim pointed out, and Neild glared.

This was their home! So, what if it would take time and work, they could fix it.

“There is the AgriCorps,” Obi-Wan offered slowly.

“What is that?” Jango asked.

“It is one of the four branches of the Service Corps of the Jedi Order and works in conjunction with the Republic Agricultural Administration to provide healthy crops to those under-privileged star systems suffering from natural disasters or blight,” Obi-Wan explained. “They can help with restoring the soil if it’s salvageable. But Neild…it might not be. After so long at war, all of the chemicals and damage may be too much.”

“But…” Neild shook his head.

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Obi-Wan understood, he’d been forced to leave his home when he was sent to the AgriCorps and now again to help the Young. They wouldn’t take him back this time, not when he’d drawn his weapon on his Master. But even he could sense the death in the soil and he was much more connected to the Unifying Force than the Living. He didn’t think there was a lot the AgriCorps would be able to do, but it was worth a try if they really wanted to stay.

Personally, Obi-Wan thought they should leave, give the children a chance to grow up somewhere safe. But leaving would also be dangerous, a lot of worlds would happily take them…and the Young would end up regretting it. Slavery may be illegal in the Republic but Obi-Wan was very aware it happened; he still had the scars.

Alderaan would probably be the best bet for somewhere safe, he’d met the current Senator and his aide, both named Bail which could be confusing. But just because some of the government was good, didn’t mean they’d be safe.

“If the Young remain on the planet, would giving free passage to any Mandalorians who chose to land here be acceptable payment?” he asked, honestly not sure what else they could offer.

Tim and Jango exchanged looks, leaning in to talk to each other in Mandalorian, and Obi-Wan picked up on when Tim occasionally seemed to hesitate on a word. But that made sense if he was more recently adopted. He seemed a lot more comfortable with Basic than any of the others, with Jango the next most fluent. Silas tried but it was very obvious he was learning.

Tim’s shields were locked down, covering Jango and Silas as well, as were Obi-Wan’s since it wouldn’t be fair if they could read each other while negotiating. It showed how well Tim knew them since it was easier to shield those you were close to, these days he barely had to try to shield Cerasi and Neild, despite them never being around someone who they needed mental shielding from. Till now anyway, but he didn’t think Tim would try reading them.

“We can work with that,” Jango answered.

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Plo hesitated, he was meant to return to Coruscant but…he was only a day from the Cadavine sector, more specifically, Melida/Daan. He had been there when Qui-Gon reported on Obi-Wan’s leaving the Order for a girl. It just did not sit right at all. All Obi-Wan had ever wanted was to be a Knight. Something about his report just didn’t make sense beyond that and they could not ask Master Tahl as she was still in a coma.

Mace also seemed to believe there was more than they knew, as did Yan and he would know his old Padawan best. But the Council would not agree to dig deeper. But if he was already basically there…well, why not? He changed the co-ordinates and then entered hyperspace.

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Silas sat with Jango, going over the second draft of the contract. He understood them not wanting to abandon their home, he couldn’t believe ever leaving Manda'yaim despite the fact they had to live in domes. They had to import their food from some other local planets and even the Republic. Melida/Daan might be even worse off and they didn’t even have an outside source to blame. They had done this to their own planet and he couldn’t even imagine doing something like that.

This mission…they’d expected trouble, been warned that Tim sensed something like war, but none of them had expected what they’d found. He was scared, not for them but for the Young. Their ship couldn’t hold them all which meant no evacuation was possible until reinforcements arrived. Protecting them all could be difficult.

One traat'aliit was not enough to take on an entire planet, even one with a dwindling population. They either had to split the Young up and send them of with one, maybe two verd’e as protection or find somewhere large enough and easily defended to protect them all in one group. It was not an easy decision. So yeah, things would be a lot easier once there were more of them on planet.

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Plo cautiously approached the planet, seeing the remains of anti-aircraft weapons, it seemed they had been taken out at various times…some very recently, more recently than the Jedi mission. Cautiously, he reached for young Obi-Wan’s presence, hoping to narrow down where to land and was shocked to sense two strong Force presences, though the second seemed only just above Temple admission levels. There were no missing Padawans or Initiates but…a child they missed? There had been no children brought from this world in centuries.

Growing up on a war-torn world…and yet the presence felt no darker than Obi-Wan’s. And Obi-Wan’s presence…unconscious? Was he wounded?

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Tim jerked as he felt something…someone brush his shields, powerful, more than Obi-Wan. The presence was very controlled, trained…a jetii Ba’jurir? Why now? Obi-Wan had been left on the planet for a year…almost the exact time since Tim had been found on Korda Six…coincidence? He watched Obi-Wan float limply within the bacta tank, not reacting due to the sedation. So, he activated his comm to warn his ori’vod, best not to let either side surprise the other.

And then he started coughing and Mij moved to his side immediately.

“You’ve been stressing your vocal cords,” the man chided, and Tim shrugged slightly.

His throat had healed but he’d been left with a rasp to his voice and if he talked too much, he’d end up coughing. Thankfully, his breathing wasn’t compromised or else he wouldn’t have been allowed to train for combat. And it wasn’t a constant thing but he’d been talking a lot since they’d left home, to his brother, to the other verd’e, to the Young and especially Obi-Wan. So, it wasn’t surprising at all that his throat was throwing a fit…it was just very bad timing.

Tim tapped out a message in dadita, letting Mij know they had company incoming since he hadn’t gotten the message out before coughing.

Mij pressed some meds on him as well as some cool water before shooing him from the medbay. “I’ll warn the others.”

Tim nodded and then glanced back at the tank.

“No one will get past me Ad’alor,” Mij promised.

So, Tim grabbed his buy'ce, slipping it on as he headed out to where he could feel the jetii was landing. He hoped the jetii wasn’t looking for a fight and would be patient with him trying to communicate without setting his throat off again. The meds helped but it could take hours to settle.

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He spotted the ship, taking in the id codes, frowning in concern. Mandalorians… what were they doing there? And then he felt a slight nudge from the second presence, scanning to find a single armoured form a distance from the ship, in an area where his ship could easily land. There was no warning in the Force and so he landed, taking his time to shut down the ship before opening the cockpit and leaping down easily.

The armoured form saluted with a fist to their chest and Plo responded by bowing slightly. The armour did not muddy their presence very much, not as much as other Mandalorian’s he had seen. They were shortish so young or a shorter species?

“Greetings Mandalorian.”

“Su'cuy,” they returned, the voice modulator doing nothing to hide the youth or raspiness of their voice.

In concern, Plo reached out carefully, feeling the sense of physical discomfort, cantered on their throat. “Please, do not cause yourself pain,” he told them. “I am Jedi Master Plo Koon, I came searching for one of our Padawans, Obi-Wan Kenobi.”

They stared at him and he felt a cautious brush against his shields, carefully lowering them enough for them to sense his intentions. Then they lifted their hands, removing their helmet to reveal a young man around Obi-Wan’s age. He hooked the helmet to his waist and then motioned for Plo to follow him.

He began fiddling with his wrist unit and then the translation program kicked in. “After a year?” the mechanical voice of the translator asked.

“Ad’alor!” a voice called and then three Mandalorians were jogging towards them, hands near their weapons.

He might not know much about Mandalorians but the word alor had something to do with leadership. And…wasn’t ad something like child?

They spoke in their own language, his guide using some kind of hand signals to speak, the newcomers relaxing a bit as he did.

“Ad’alor be Mandalore Tim Drake, clan and house Mereel,” one of the Mandalorians indicated his guide.

“I confess, I am not familiar with that title,” Plo admitted.

“He is the youngest son of the Mand’alor, I think it translates to something like prince?”

Ah. Well, that was interesting. And meant he needed to tread carefully so that he would not risk a diplomatic incident. They led him onto the ship and then into the medical bay, the three remaining outside, Ad’Alor Tim signally the medic but Plo’s eyes moved to the bacta tank, seeing the boy floating within.

“He isn’t in danger,” the medic said, seeing where he was looking. “He had some older injuries that needed some treatment.” The medic was obviously not happy.

“It appears events are not what we were told by his Master,” Plo murmured. And he would be having word with Qui-Gon and Yoda over this when he returned. He knew he was not the only one who did not think the two a good match but Yoda had insisted. Plo himself had been interested in perhaps taking Obi-Wan on as his Padawan. Perhaps…

TBC…

Chapter Text

Disclaimer: not mine

Chapter 7

Tim observed the Jetii Ba’jurir as the Kel Dor meditated beside the bacta tank, apparently helping Obi-Wan’s healing. That was a neat ability. He wasn’t sure what to think of him coming now, why wait so long? Though he had mentioned being told possible lies by the one who had abandoned Obi-Wan. He’d like to meet that person for five minutes, please. Leaving your student alone on a war-torn planet with no weapon… maybe five minutes in a room with Kon would be better. His friend had abandonment issues for very good reasons. Kon, Bart…he forced his mind back to the present.

And the Mij was approaching the tank and Koon was standing, it was time then.

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He was lying on something soft but also firm, the air cool but not cold and…he didn’t hurt.

“Koh-to-yah Obi-Wan,” a familiar voice murmured, and his eyes snapped open to see Master Koon.

He blinked, was he hallucinating? Had it all been a dream? But then he felt a worried brush against his own presence, Tim. So, not a dream then. “Master Koon?” he asked in confusion, voice rough. Then Tim was pressing a water glass to his lips and he drank gratefully. Tim helped him sit up, staying close, and he was grateful. In a few short days, his presence had become a comfort.

“Rest easy young one, it seems you have been through a lot,” Master Koon told him, and Obi-Wan nodded. “And you have made some interesting friends.”

“Tim,” he murmured, looking over at the Mandalorian who smiled at him but stayed quiet, confusing him.

Tim touched his throat and then grimaced, Mij appearing to give him something, Tim sighing.

“Forgive the Ad’Alor but he has been straining his vocal cords too much with how much he has been speaking,” the medic explained.

“He’s hurt?” Obi-Wan leant forward in alarm.

Mij glanced at Tim who nodded. “When we found him, one of his injuries was a slit throat, he was close to bleeding out and while the wound healed, his vocal cords never fully recovered. It is why his voice is raspy.”

“Oh,” Obi-Wan whispered, then he felt Tim withdrawing slightly as if… and he lunged half off the bed to grab his hand, squeezing it. “You shouldn’t push your voice, what if you made it worse?”

“It’s unlikely since everything’s healed, but he likes to push. Among our own it isn’t as bad since we all know hand signs but with aruetiise…outsiders,” the medic shrugged. “Now, how do you feel? I want to check that your rib is stable.”

“It doesn’t hurt anymore, I feel better than I have in a long time,” he admitted.

“We’ll need to set up a schedule to begin running the rest of the Young who need it through, once the rest of the Mandose show up it will go quicker.”

“Pardon me, but who are the Young?” Master Koon asked, and Obi-Wan frowned.

“Didn’t Master Jinn tell the Council?” he asked in confusion.

“He informed us that you had left the Order to remain with a young woman. However, not all of the Council accepted his words as you had not gone through standard channels to resign your place.”

Obi-Wan was frozen. Master Jinn had…he’d….

A hand gripped his tightly and then he was pulled against hard yet somehow warm armour, another mind reaching for his. “Obi-Wan,” a voice rasped in his ear.

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Plo watched as Obi-Wan’s eyes went blank, something…shattering within him. And then the Ad’Alor was there, pulling Obi-Wan into a hug that he didn’t fight, the soft rasp of his voice calling Obi-Wan’s name. Obi-Wan shuddered, clinging to the armour which surely wasn’t comfortable.

For such a reaction…what had Qui-Gon done? Young Drake was stroking Obi-Wan’s messy, too long hair with a now ungloved hand, their Force signatures…incredible. A natural Force bond, was that how the Mandalorian’s had come to the planet? Had he sensed Obi-Wan’s trouble in the Force?

The young Mandalorian was being so gentle with Obi-Wan, tugging his other glove off as well and then just kept holding Obi-Wan. 

“S’okay,” he rasped. “Here, safe.”

Plo moved closer, kneeling beside them. “May I?” he asked, hands out towards them, meeting wary blue eyes but then the Ad’Alor nodded. “Relax Obi-Wan, you are safe,” he told the Padawan. He could see the very faint burn scar on the top of his ear…right where his braid should have been. “You will be alright Padawan,” he assured him.

Obi-Wan slowly looked at him, appearing confused. “Padawan?”

“I do not have your lightsabre to return to you as Qui-Gon never handed it in, but you never resigned and so you are still a Padawan.”

“Take him back?” the question was quiet and Plo wondered if one of their Healers could do more for his throat.

“If that is his wish, I know of at least two Masters who would gladly take him on as their Padawan,” he explained without mentioning that he was one of them, he did not think Obi-Wan was ready to hear that.

Obi-Wan was just blinking up at him in confused shock. And then the child began to speak of what exactly had happened and Plo had to work very hard to release his anger into the Force.

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Tim held Obi-Wan, feeling that shattering sensation…he’d panicked and reacted instinctively to protect and shield him. Was it just because Obi-Wan was the first person he’d met that seemed so much like him? He had made the same choice that or any vigilante/hero would have, to stay and fight for the ade. He’d love to have Kon and Bart with him, he’d even take Clark! They could end the war in seconds and then do the heavy lifting in starting repairs.

He knew his armour couldn’t be comfortable but he wasn’t going to make Obi-Wan let go before he was ready to. Hearing that Obi-Wan could go back to the jetii was good, right? It was a bit sad, since Tim had begun looking forward to working on training together once the war was dealt with. At least if he went back, it would be with a new Ba’jurir and not the shabuir who had abandoned him.

The man had lied to the Council…the Jetii Alor? How had he gotten away with that? Surely, they would have sensed it?

“Why did it…take a year?” Tim asked, still petting messy red hair to help keep Obi-Wan calm, feeling Koon’s presence gently covering him, brushing his own but not intruding.

“After Jinn’s report, the Senate forbade further interference with the planet. It is basically considered a lost cause.”

“Won’t you get in trouble?” Mij asked.

“Engine trouble can be very frustrating,” Koon answered, and Tim snorted. Sneaky. “Sadly, this was the first chance I had to come. If the Council had known what was happening, we would have come, Senate orders or not.”

Tim sensed no deception but would he from a fully trained jetii? But from Obi-Wan’s reaction, he thought the Kel Dor was being honest.

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Jango was wary to wake and find out there was a jetii aboard, brought by his vod’ika. Tim’s studies were far enough to know about the bad blood between their people… then again, there was Obi-Wan. Had this jetii come for him after a year?

When he reached the med bay, he found Tim sitting with Obi-Wan curled against him, the stranger kneeling in front of them, speaking quietly with the two.

“Mij?” he murmured.

“Jetii Ba’jurir Plo Koon, part of their Council. It seems Obi’ika was abandoned here and his cabur lied to the Council about him leaving the Jetii for a girl,” Mij answered quietly. “Turns out, he’s still a Padawan because he didn’t go through the proper procedure. And apparently there are at least two Ba’jurir willing to take him on if he returns. The Senate blocked any further missions here but he had engine trouble.”

Jango blinked…engine trouble? Oh. Huh, who knew jetii could be so sneaky. His brother met his eyes, anger and grief clear for what the younger boy had gone through and all because of a liar. It was interesting how quickly the two seemed to have bonded, the Ka’ra or something? He’d kind of hoped Obi-Wan would accept adoption but if he went back to the jetii…would they be allowed to keep in contact? His vod needed more friends, Silas was the only one he had outside of Jango himself.

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Plo watched the children as they cautiously came out of hiding to take turns in the med bay, horrified by their condition. How had Qui-Gon turned his back on them? He knelt down, pushing away all negative emotions, handing out food to the children. They were curious about him, having never seen a Kel Dor before and likely a non-human adult was less threatening since the population was human. Soon, he had a gaggle of children hanging around him, he had always enjoyed in the creche, he loved children, most Jedi did.

He would have a lot to report to the Council when he returned. Would it be with Obi-Wan though? He honestly wasn’t sure since he appeared to be bonding close to the Ad’Alor and his friend. Would Obi-Wan go with the Mandalorians? Would they accept him if he wanted to? To lose such wonderful potential…unless…would that be possible?

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Jaster was relieved when the received landing co-ordinates, seeing the ship his ade had left in. the small fleet landed and he spotted an unfamiliar fighter, then he saw the emblem on its side. A Jetii? So perhaps this Obi-Wan really was a Jetii hibir? Their ships settled, the ramp lowering, and there were his ade waiting for him. He walked towards them and drew them into a hug, relieved to see for himself that they were well. He assumed to the too skinny redhead was Obi-Wan and the Kel Dor in robes had to be the jetii.

“Buir,” Tim whispered shakily, and he tightened his grip.

Had Tim ever seen war before? Neither of his ade should ever have to see such things, but he knew it was inevitable as Mando’ade since they were embroiled in civil war. Tim just hadn’t been exposed to their actual battles yet.

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Kon lay on his bed, staring at the ceiling. It was strange to hear others in the base. He was used to it being Robin and Bart, then just Bart, but now there was Cassie, Cissie, and Secret. He wasn’t sure what he thought of the expanded team but to be a team they needed to be more than a duo. He was de facto leader on account of being an original member but it wasn’t a role he was good at and he could see that now, he wished he hadn’t argued so much with Rob over it. He’d been missing for months with no signs, nothing. Batman had apparently already recorded Robin as dead to keep him from being linked to his civilian id. But how could one not be missed? Robin said Batman wasn’t his dad so surely his family were missing him? Had Batman covered it up with a trip or kidnapping or something?

He looked up in surprise at the knock on his door, Nightwing? “Come in.”

“I found this in Robin’s things, he wanted you to have it. Batman might have given up, but I haven’t,” he promised, handing over the package.

“Thanks,” he whispered. “Secret…she offered to see if she can sense if Robin’s dead or not but she said it’s been a while.”

Nightwing nodded. “I can take her to the warehouse, B’s on the Watchtower so he can’t say no.”

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Standing around the table, Silas kept quiet, what was he even doing there? He wasn’t any kind of alor or anything. Tim was the Manda’lore son so his presence would make sense even if he wasn’t in co-command with Jango for the mission…at least until they found out exactly what was going on. But all the others were at least ruus'alor. He was barely past his verd'goten! Maybe he was there for the learning opportunity?

Tim glanced at him, sensing his confusion? Then Jango’s knee knocked into the back of his and he forced himself to relax and focus on the discussion. It was surprising how many good ideas the Jetii Ba’jurir had. He didn’t think jetii still fought battles? But maybe they still learnt about them? The tactics were different to theirs so it made it even more interesting.

Obi-Wan seemed to be kind of shifting into the background but he was one of the three Alor of the Young. He’d been right at the front before…was it because of the other jetii? He’d figured someone on the crew would adopt Obi-Wan along with others of the Young but now, would he go back to the jetii even after they abandoned him?

Now, they were arguing over exactly how to end the war, the Young didn’t want to be left out of it but…the majority were younger than Sila. Sure, the three Generals were fourteen but they were the oldest. Most of the ade were eleven or younger…there were even ik'aad! What kind of monsters were their buir? He didn’t remember much about his parents, he’d mostly grown up in the Foundling home, but he knew they’d loved him.

He was kind of fond of the sterilisation and leaving plan, not that he minded fighting, but he kind of wanted to see the looks on their faces when they realised there’d be no more ade and the current ones were gone. He bet the medics could even find a way to make it hurt. But if they chose to fight then that was fine with him too, except for the risk to the ade.

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Secret wandered through the warehouse, stopping at one spot, the spot where they had found the Joker and Tim’s blood. He didn’t really know anything about the meta girl, he hadn’t really kept up with Young Justice, it hurt to see Kon and Bart without Tim.

She studied the area and then shook her head. “No one died here.”

That was…good, it was. Tim was alive when he left the warehouse. But then where was he? He glanced at Kon and wondered if he could see the blood stains, they had scrubbed the warehouse to remove his DNA but how good was his vision? he didn’t know what was in the package for Kon and it wasn’t any of his business, even if it revealed Tim’s id. That should have been Tim’s choice but Bruce hadn’t allowed him to tell his team. And that was a decision the man was stubbornly clinging to.

Tim Drake had been declared missing, vanishing one day on his way home from school. They’d had to arrange it in a way that wouldn’t bring too many eyes down on them. With Drake Industries going under, it was discovered that they had made some rather shady deals so it wasn’t impossible that Tim had been taken by someone to get the money they were owed with Janet dead and Jack in a coma. There was nothing to link Tim to Robin, keeping all of their identities safe.

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Obi-Wan gasped as an armoured body slammed into him, the two of the tumbling through the mud, the Mandalorian covering him from the explosion. He looked up into the visor of Tim’s helmet even as the older teen moved to his feet, offering Obi-Wan a hand up.

“Alright?’

“Thanks to you,” he admitted. He felt foolish for missing the warning in the Force.

Tim took his arm, guiding him through the ruins to meet up with the rest of the team.

“Me'vaar ti gar?” Myles looked them both over.

“Naas,” Tim responded. “Watch out for landmines,” he warned, and the others nodded.

Obi-Wan shifted, feeling the armour move. They only way they’d let them fight too was if they wore at least some armour. Honestly, Obi-Wan couldn’t disagree if it kept any of them alive. Even Master Koon was wearing some! It was durasteel like Tim’s since none of them were Mandalorian, unpainted, but it at least offered more protection than just cloth. He was glad it wasn’t beskar though since that muffled the Force, it made it hard to sense the Mandalorians except for Tim. It was a good thing that paint work was individual since it was the only way to identify who was who.

The other scouts returned and they moved on, towards the Melida Halls of Evidence.

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Jaster led his squad towards where Neild had said the Daan main base was, Cerasi with his team while Neild was with Jango’s going after the Melida. Myles was leading one of the teams going for the Halls of Evidence and with Tim and Obi-Wan while Kal had the team with the Jetii going after the other Hall. If they could take all four targets at once then the war would be basically over.

But could they force a lasting peace? Even with Ba’jurir Koon there to negotiate, there was no way to ensure it. What if the fighting began again after they left? The ade would be in danger. He could see several of his people who would be looking to say the gai bal manda before they left but would the ade accept?

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Plo moved silently with the squad of Mandalorians, not something he had ever imagined that he would be doing. Most of his concentration was on the team and their goal but he also kept a distant eye on the two boys. Decisions would need to be made there. He didn’t want to stress Obi-Wan over his choices. It was obvious that Tim had taken Obi-Wan under his wing and that Obi-Wan trusted the older boy.

He wondered how he had come to be adopted, where had he been born that the Order had missed him? Or had his parents chosen not to give him to the Jedi? Since he was lower range for admission it was possible he hadn’t had many issues as a child with controlling his gifts and so they had seen no need. But he obviously had some mental training, some religious orders who did not have any Force sensitivity gave mental training, as did some traditional martial arts.

They moved silently towards the Halls of Evidence until they reached a place that they could observe the guards from, waiting for the signal.

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Neild watched, grasping his blaster tightly. He wished he was going after the Daan base but he had grudgingly accepted Mereel’s explanation for not sending them after the sides they had come from. It wasn’t like he wanted Cerasi anywhere near Wehutti anyway. No…better he be the one to pull the trigger there if the monster wouldn’t surrender.

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Kon stared at the photos that Tim had left for him. Tim Drake, Robin. There was no way Batman knew about Tim’s contingency plan for if anything happened to him. Secret said he hadn’t died in the warehouse, which was good, but then where was he?

Hal Jordan had reported that there was no sign of Tim with the Green Lanterns, so he hadn’t been saved by one of their rings. He’d been really badly hurt and Kon knew…the odds were that he was dead. There was talk of a memorial for Robin but Bart agreed with him, Robin wasn’t dead. It was just a feeling they both had, like he was far away but alive, but Tim was human, not a meta, and neither of them was psychic in the way that would let them know that.

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Tim fired, feeling the brief flare in the Ka’ra, feeling sick as he realised…he’d killed the man but…he had been about to kill one of the Young who had come with their team, Cora. He’d had no choice. He felt Obi-Wan’s concern and forced himself to focus back on the fight. He could throw up or break down later. He wasn’t going to put anyone else at risk because he freaked out.

TBC…

Chapter Text

Disclaimer: not mine

Chapter 8

Bruce stared at the footage that Barbara had eventually found, the footage that had led them to the warehouse…Tim fighting against the Joker and several of his goons. He was so small… but the way he fought, he was so brilliant, not giving up at all, fighting until he was subdued, still wriggling as he was pinned until suddenly going limp, unconscious. His limp form was hauled up and thrown over a shoulder, carried away.

Dick had told him that a member of YJ had come to Gotham and was positive that no one had died in that warehouse. But if that was the case…where was Tim? Had he gotten away somehow before they arrived and died elsewhere? But that wouldn’t explain the Joker’s state, he’d been surprised and sure that he had Robin, that the boy was unable to really move. Every ally they could think of had been contacted, the Lanterns were checking with every alien race they thought might be able to sneak Tim off earth for any reason…and there was still nothing. At least if they had a body…

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Obi-Wan dropped behind cover, checking the power pack of his blaster. He really, really missed his lightsabre.

“Hurt?” Myles asked.

“Nayc,” Obi-Wan answered, one of the few words he’d learnt so far. The Halls were better defended than they’d thought, considering how could the Mando scouts were, that was…concerning.

He felt the brush of concern from Tim and assured the older boy. He had felt Tim’s shock when he’d shot and killed an Elder and remembered Tim’s whispered admission that he’d never killed before, that on his planet, working with law enforcement killing had been out of the question. Wouldn’t that be nice? Obi-Wan popped up again and took a few more shots before ducking back into cover. He then felt Master Koon checking on them, feeling his concern over the resistance they were facing. At least their blasters were still as bad as ever, they hadn’t gotten off world help or anything. The Mandalorians would have detected other ships anyway.

But then the doors gave way and they were moving.

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Tim slid under the arm of an adult, spinning quickly to grab his arm, hearing the limb break even as he slammed the soldier into the pillar, the man dropping limp to the ground. Tim quickly disarmed and bound him; the plan wasn’t to just wipe everyone out after all. He drew his beskad, slamming it into someone’s ribs, hearing them wheeze in pain, letting him grab their blaster.

And then another soldier was launched into the air, flying across the room to slam into several others, was that… he looked over to see Obi-Wan panting slightly. Okay, that, that was cool. Could he do that too? He knew better than to try in the middle of a fight and with no clue how though. He sensed incoming intent and spun, beskad impacting an extended wrist. Don’t get distracted in a fight.

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Plo’s sabre spun swiftly as he acted in defence of the Young with his group, the children firing around his wall of protective spinning plasma. The Mandalorian’s armour barely reacted to the shots if they landed but the durasteel would not be as impenetrable to the weapons the adults aimed on the children. He was keeping a distant ‘eye’ on the other groups, relieved they seemed to be making progress too.

He felt the sudden lack of fighting at…Jaster’s group had succeeded, and soon after, so had the one with the boys. One base and one Hall taken then.

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Jaster was relieved to see his ade, both…no, that was blood on Tim’s armour and he was holding the arm carefully still. The sooner he had proper beskar'gam rather than the durasteel version, the better. Tim either saw or sensed his appraisal and flashed a hand sign for fine. Right, where was…there was Mij, already headed right for Tim, Jango’s shoulders shaking with suppressed laughter as he spotted the approaching baar'ur. Tim slumped but turned to Mij even as Jaster reached them.

“I’m okay,” Tim tried to assure them all, but Mij grabbed his arm, releasing the damaged armour plate to inspect his arm.

“Not too bad,” Mij admitted, slapping a bacta wrap on the wound. And then he was inspecting Jaster and Jango before moving towards a head of red hair.

“Now comes the hard part,” Jango muttered.

“Isn’t fighting the hard part?” Tim asked teasingly, and Jango shuddered, making Jaster and Tim laugh at him, they knew very well that Jango preferred fighting to politics.

Soon they were joined by the three Young leaders and Koon. Jaster smiled when Obi-Wan stood beside Tim, their arms brushing. He’d thought at first that he might end up with another ad but now he thought that would be rather awkward in a few years, if Obi-Wan didn’t return to the jetii anyways.

Still…. he couldn’t fully relax, something still felt off.

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“Obi-Wan?”

He looked at Tim, wishing he could see his face rather than just the helmet. “Something feels…wrong.”

Tim’s helmet tipped to the side slightly. “But what…”

A lightsabre hissed to life and they both spun, seeing Master Koon in front of Cerasi, blocking two blaster bolts, sending them safely into the ground rather than returning them in the direction of the shooter. Obi-Wan found himself being yanked back behind Tim and Jango, but Tim’s armour wasn’t blaster proof! Sure, it could take distant hits but as Tim’s injury proved, it wasn’t as good as the others armour. Apparently his was still more like training armour, that Tim fought differently to most of them so they were still working on his proper armour. Obi-Wan had seen him in the battle and he did move different to the other human Mandalorians, he was a lot more acrobatic though not as much as many jedi in that he wasn’t really using the Force to enhance what he did.

“Cerasi!” Neild yelled in shock.

“I…I’m fine,” she called back even as Obi-Wan pushed his way to her, Tim and Jango right with him, both with blasters in hand.

Two of the soldiers landed, a struggling figure between them, and Obi-Wan’s heart sank. He didn’t know the boys’ name…but he was one of Mawat’s, one of the Scavenger Young. Why had he shot at Cerasi…no, no way…but Mawat’s message had been very clear when they contacted him. But he wouldn’t go this far, would he? He wouldn’t try to force them to fight until the Elders were all dead, would he?

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Jango grimaced, the shooter was an ad, that wasn’t good. They had thought the children were all part of the Young, on the same side, had they been wrong? A glance at Obi-Wan showed shock and horror, and the other Young seemed just as shocked. No one on the ground seemed involved which was good. They didn’t need more fighting breaking out. But why would the ad shoot at one of the leaders? There had been no captives near Cerasi, no threat to her that he might have been trying to aim at. So, what was going on?

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Plo stared at the child, Obi-Wan and Tim with him. he had to have a representative from both forces present to question the child but he had no problem with that. Obi-Wan would know he would not harm the boy but it was also good to have others there to hear the answers. And he was leaving Obi-Wan to actually ask the questions since he knew the boy, instead there as backup and to make sure the answers were truthful by listening to the Force at a Master’s level.

Obi-Wan was kneeling before the younger boy, talking gently, something he was good at. He had never understood some of the comments in the boy’s file when he looked at it. Obi-Wan was highly empathetic, no angrier than any other human teenager. No, it seemed there was something missing from Obi-Wan’s official records and that concerned Plo and a few others. But once he had become a Padawan, he was very rarely in the Temple for them to investigate. And before…he had vanished to Bandomeer before he ever actually turned thirteen and Plo suspected Yoda’s hand in that, why else would he be on the same ship as Jinn?

Young Tim is doing well in not appearing threatening, despite his armour, he had even removed his helmet to help with that. Bright blue eyes watched everything and Plo picked up on an old scar just by his hairline, several years old at least. A fight or just childhood shenanigans?

All anyone needed to do was meet him and his family to realise that there were many misunderstanding about Mandalorians amongst the galaxy. He knew they were stories told amongst the Younglings to scare them and while they were dangerous, even to Jedi…it had been a very long time since the wars between them. If they could foster some kind of working relationship…the Jedi did not have the numbers for so many things but if they could work with Mandalore they would have a chance. But the Senate would never allow it. He did agree with Yan on one thing, they were too closely tied to the Senate’s whims.

He focused fully on the discussion as he felt the spike of emotional pain from Obi-Wan.

“Why Lian?” he asked.

“Mawat said…said we’re not safe if the Elders live. The war would come back once the strangers leave. So, they have to die first.”

“But Cerasi?”

The boy, Lian, sniffled, and Tim knelt down to gently wipe his face for him.

“It’s alright ad,” he murmured. “Here,” he offered a ration bar.

“If…if she died…then war…” the boy sobbed.

“Cerasi is the most popular of the three of you, if she died, she’d be a martyr,” Tim murmured, and Obi-Wan nodded.

“We need to find the other Scavengers,” Obi-Wan stated.

“Sorry…sorry…didn’t want…”

“Shh, it’s okay,” Tim hugged the boy, rocking him gently as Lian clung to his armour. He looked up at Obi-Wan and Plo. “We need to stop this.”

Plo nodded in agreement. They hadn’t even been able to start peace talks yet and already someone was attempting to sabotage them.

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Barbara sat back from her screens, pushing her glasses up. In not even a year, everything had changed. Tim…he was such a bright kid, so eager to learn and help, but also shy, unsure…and she was pretty sure she knew why. How had they never noticed the boy living next to the Manor? Or the child following them across the rooftops?

He had changed all of their lives, made things better since Jay…since Jason’s death. And now he was gone. Dick was so sure that Tim was alive somewhere and she wanted to believe it but there was no evidence at all. She had to be realistic, she couldn’t just hope blindly. If Tim was alive, he would have come home or found a way to reach out by now. Sooner or later, Dick was going to be faced with that and he was going to crash. Bruce…Bruce wasn’t as bad as he’d been when Jason died but he had backslid. Dick staying close was helping a bit, though they were arguing over Dick’s refusal to give up on Tim.

For the moment, it was an open case still, her fake footage fooling the police into thinking he’d been kidnapped. The family had barely been looked at over it, no one believed Brucie Wayne would have anything to do with his foster son being taken and Dick had been out of town on vacation when it happened so he was in the clear too. It was the best cover they had, they had to be careful to not bring too much suspicion on them and with Jason’s death not even two years ago… her Dad was personally watching over Tim’s case, frustrated by the lack of evidence, and adding to his stress made her feel horrible, but what else could they do?

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Jaster ran a hand through his hair but then smiled as his youngest joined him, lifting an arm to let the ad curl into his side, gently petting soft black hair. “How’s the arm?” he asked.

“A little sore,” Tim admitted, but he did answer. It had taken months to get him to realise that he was allowed, even meant, to tell people when he was in pain.

“I’m proud of you, you’ve done so well. I’m just sorry you had to face all of this so soon,” Jaster admitted.

“It was going to happen eventually, we’ll have to face Kyr'tsad in battle sooner or later,” Tim pointed out. His youngest could be so logical, so much his ori’vods opposite in many ways.

In the safety of the ship and with the battle done they had stripped out of their armour, which made Tim pressing into his side more comfortable. Jango soon joined them, flopping down opposite them. His eldest didn’t seek out physical comfort much anymore but he also never commented on Tim doing so, it was obvious to anyone that Tim had been neglected, had been starved for affection. It was part of why Jango was so protective of his vod, ensuring no one took advantage of Tim. But Jaster didn’t think it was a risk, Tim wasn’t an overly trusting person and he had to trust someone to let them touch him.

“What are we going to do now buir? We thought the Young were united but it seems they’re not,” Jango asked.

“It complicates things a little,” he admitted.

“We grab Mawat and the others will back down, he’s got them convinced all the Elders need to die, that the war has to be finished. Without him, they’ll fold,” Tim murmured sleepily. Ba’jurir Koon agrees, he finished in dadita.

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Neild was angry, so angry. They’d trusted Mawat!! How could he betray them? To target Cerasi… yes, he hated the Elders and wanted them gone but he could also understand why that wouldn’t work if they wanted to stay on the planet. He found himself wondering if maybe…if maybe they were right and it’d be better to leave…

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“Master Koon?” Obi-Wan asked.

“Yes Padawan?” the Master opened his eyes as their meditation ended.

“Can the AgriCorps help?”

“Perhaps,” was the calm answer. “But the Senate will not allow such things until there is a definite and provable peace. Even then, there is no guarantee we will be allowed to intervene.”

Obi-Wan frowned but nodded, the Jedi, even the Corps would need permission to help the planet recover. And even if they were allowed, there was no guarantee it would work. The planet was not in good condition as he’d warned the others before. Honestly, it’d be easier to just abandon it if there was somewhere safe to move everyone. Maybe they could send the different factions to different planets? But how to keep the Young safe.

“Peace, Obi-Wan,” Master Koon’s voice was calm and deep, soothing. A hand rested on his shoulder and Obi-Wan couldn’t help leaning into the touch. “You are not alone Padawan.”

“I…” he took a shaky breath. “Being a Jedi Knight is all I’ve ever wanted,” he whispered. “But I…I don’t think I can go back to the Temple.”

He waited to be scolded but nothing happened, the hand remaining gently on his shoulder.

“You have been alone for a year, young one. To rethink your future is only natural after the way the Order failed you.”

That had Obi-Wan jerking, staring at the Master with wide eyes. He’d failed the Order, not the other way around!

“There is time, Obi-Wan, I will not pressure you to make any decision but know that if you do choose to return to the Temple, I would be honoured if you would accept me as your Master.”

And his jaw just hit the deck.

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Tim blinked awake, laying in his bunk, unsure what…Obi-Wan? He got up and pulled on a coat over his sleepwear before slipping out of the room and then outside of the ship. He was surprised to realise that Obi-Wan was sitting on top of the ship, but he quickly moved to join him, used to scaling things from years in Gotham. “Hey, you okay?” he asked softly as he sat beside him, letting their arms brush.

Obi-Wan took a shaky breath. “He…he asked me to be his Padawan,” the younger teen finally whispered.

“Is that bad?” he asked since the way Obi-Wan was acting suggested it was.

“I don’t know. Why now? Why not before I aged out and was sent away? And why would he want me now, after a year of war…”

Tim tugged Obi-Wan into his side, glad he wasn’t wearing any of his armour, the war was over after all and if someone did attack between the two of them, they’d sense it coming. “I think only he can answer those questions,” he admitted. “But you also have other options Tim. I’m sure the Young want you to stay with them and if you don’t want that…you could come with us, to Mandalore.”

“What?” Blue-gray eyes were wide in shock and Tim shrugged.

“I’ve caught at least three verd’e watching you with the adoption look in their eyes,” Tim offered. “And even without adoption, you could still come with us, not all Foundlings want to be adopted. I’ve heard a few Mando already offering adoption to some of the Young, and some have accepted so you wouldn’t be alone either.” He was glad for the ones who had said yes, sure, they had their own war but it was nothing like this and ade were protected above everything else.

“Just think about it Obi-Wan, you have options and there’s no rush. We’ll be staying until after the Evaar Mando'ade, the uh…New Mandalorians get here. They’re pacificists, buir doesn’t really like them since they won’t even fight in self-defence, but they can help with more medics and supplies.” He leant closer. “And it gets them out of buir’s hair for a while.”

Happily, that got a small snort of amusement from Obi-Wan. “Thanks.”

“Come on, it’s getting cold and we both need sleep. You can bunk with me and Jango if you want the company, though fair warning, he snores.”

That got a smile even as Obi-Wan just dropped down, Tim climbed halfway and then dropped the rest of the way down. “The Creche is pretty communal, I’m used to sleeping through snoring.”

So, Tim led him back to their bunk room and stripped off his coat and shoes before handing Obi-Wan something to change into since he’d apparently not gone to bed at all yet. Obi-Wan changed and carefully crawled in beside him, Jango asleep in the top bunk. Usually, Jango had the room to himself but with Tim along, they had shared the room. Privilege of rank and all that. He was happy that Obi-Wan fell asleep quickly, he really needed it. He wrapped an arm around the still far too skinny teen to help make sure he didn’t fall off the bunk and settled in to sleep as well.

TBC…

Chapter Text

Disclaimer: not mine

Chapter 9

Obi-Wan struggled to focus on the negotiations but it was hard after his late-night talk with Tim. Was he right? Would Obi-Wan really be welcomed on Mandalore? Did Master Koon really want him as his Padawan? It was all so confusing.

And then he found himself relaxing as Tim’s presence brushed his, gloved fingers brushing his arm. Right, focus. The sooner they could make peace, the better. Knowing more Mandalorians were coming, even if they were peaceful ones, was good. Hopefully the incoming numbers would be enough to make the Elders keep the peace.

Negotiations were not going particularly well so far, the Melida and Daan could agree on nothing except wanting the Young dead. How could there be peace when that was the case?

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“May I speak with you Mand’alor?”

Jaster turned and nodded to the Jetii. “Take a seat.”

“I wish to speak with you about Obi-Wan but also your son.”

“Tim,” it had to be him given his gifts, and Koon nodded.

“Had he been born within the Republic; his family would have been approached about sending him to the Order. He is too old now, the cut off age for humans is six, though it is preferred they come younger as they can bond with their crechemates before becoming Initiates. At his current age, he should be a Padawan, like Obi-Wan,” the Jetii explained.

“Tim trains with the Goran to control his gifts, he had never consciously used them before,” Jaster offered warily. “But he is fast outstripping what they can teach.”

“That could be enough for him to qualify as a Padawan but the Order would still be very reluctant to take him on due to his strong familiar ties.”

There was something Koon was working up to, but what. If the Order would be reluctant to take Tim, and honestly, Jaster would be very reluctant to let his ad go after what had happened with this war and Obi-Wan, then…was that what he was leading up to?

“I have offered to take Obi-Wan as my Padawan to continue his training but understandably he is unsure about returning to the Temple. I have heard there are some among your number who wish to offer him adoption.”

Jaster snorted. “He’s intelligent, loyal, and an excellent fighter. It’s only my warning them not to overwhelm him or any of the Young that’s kept him from being flooded with offers. But honestly, I think it would be best for all of the ade to leave the planet, they’ll never get the chance to just live and be free here.”

“I agree, there are some planets I would trust to take them in if not all wish to go to Mandalore; Alderaan and Naboo for example.”

Jaster nodded, the more options they could give the Young, the better.

“So, you will have one, possibly two, children who could use more structured training but for whom the Temple will not be a good fit. Relationships between Mandalore and the Order have always been…strained.” Koon stared at him and Jaster waited. “We have become very closely tied to the Senate; some believe too closely. But there have been no other options.”

It seemed that he was right about what the Jetii was thinking.

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Cassie watched Conner and Bart, worried about them. Robin’s disappearance had really hit them hard, despite being a team for so short a time. They didn’t even know his identity! But they had trusted him, had followed his lead. How could they trust him so much without knowing who he was? Bart said that Robin had wanted to tell them but was bound by Batman’s rules. Now Kon was the leader but he didn’t seem comfortable with it, oh, he could put on a good act for others but the team could see the hesitation, the second guessing of major decisions.

But what could she do about it? Nothing. Diana had petitioned the gods for word on Robin, but they could give no answers to his fate. She hoped he was okay wherever he was. Sidekicks had to stick together, right?

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Plo was quite pleased by his meeting with Mereel, it had gone far better than their negotiations. Honestly, he could not see peace holding without an outside party enforcing it. Could these New Mandalorians do so when they were complete pacifists? With peace in place, perhaps the Senate would allow the Order to send some help as well. The AgriCorps would be a great help, as would the Medi and EduCorps, and there were some within all of those groups who carried sabres. The Mandalorians had stripped the Elders of their weapons but determined beings could make new ones out of the most innocuous objects.

He knew the Council would not be happy with what he had suggested to the Mand’alor but he saw it as necessary. The Galaxy was growing darker and their numbers continued to dwindle, they needed support. And who better than their historical enemies? It was time to move beyond that history and work together.

He went to find the two children, unsurprised to find them together, Tim working on something on his datapad while Obi-Wan meditated. He took a seat and settled in to wait, Tim glancing up at him but he waved the young man off since Obi-Wan was deep in meditation.

Eventually, Obi-Wan surfaced from his meditation, blinking at him in surprise. “Master Koon?”

“I wished to speak with the two of you about something I have discussed with the Mand’alor.” He then began explaining the idea he had brought to the man, watching two sets of eyes widen in shock.

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Neild stared at where Mawat was being held, not sure what they were going to do. But seeing their fellow leader almost insane with his desire for vengeance…it had been the reality check that he needed. How close had he been to ending up the same way?

And it made him think about what Obi-Wan, Tim, and Jango had said during their original talks…that the planet might not be salvageable. But if they did leave, where would they go?

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Obi-Wan joined Tim on watch, they weren’t being idiots, they had dis-armed the Elders…for now. And if given the chance they would attack, no matter how idiotic it was. He was getting used to wearing the pieced of armour he’d been given but he was still in awe of those who could wear a full set, and of Beskar at that. Tim had let him hold his beskar staff, there was definite weight to the metal.

“Okay?” Tim asked softly.

“I…I didn’t expect this,” he admitted, staring at his clasped hands.

Tim’s hand landed on his shoulder and Obi-Wan leant into the touch. It was strange, touch had been utterly normal in the crèche and even initiate dorms but once he became a Padawan it had become very infrequent. But once the Young trusted him it was like he was a youngling again. He hadn’t realised how much he missed such casual contact until he had it back and he’d watched the Mandalorians enough to know it was normal among them too.

“This doesn’t mean you have to choose that option. As much as we’d love to have you on Manda'yaim, none of us would force you.”

“I know,” Obi-Wan smiled at the older boy.

But Master Koon’s idea…it would mean he didn’t have to choose. He could continue his training, with Tim even, and go to Mandal…Manda'yaim. He would be Master Koon’s Padawan and help with Tim’s training while also learning from the Goran as well. It could be good to see how they trained their Force sensitives. Tim was very disciplined, more so than most non-Temple Force users.

So, there could be things they taught that the Order didn’t. Going back to the Temple was still an option but did he want that anymore? He missed his friends, yes, but could be go back? Part of him wanted to stay with the Young but a lot of the younger ones had accepted adoption or were seriously considering it.

He’d tried meditating on what to do but it was hard to clear his mind and focus on the Force with his thoughts and emotions in such turmoil. And then Tim’s presence nudged his gently in offering and Obi-Wan lowered his shields. With Tim helping, he sank into meditation.

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Cerasi watched as so many of the younger children flocked to the Mandalorians, warming up to them because they were so different to the Elders. It was good to see. She looked up as Jango joined her, like most of his people he still wore his armour with only the helmet removed. “They’re so happy,” she whispered.

“All ade should be,” he agreed with her. “What about you?”

She shook her head. “It’s…strange. As much as I wanted peace I…”

“Didn’t think you’d ever live to see it,” he finished for her, and she nodded.

“What do we do now?”

“You live,” Jango clasped her shoulder and she fought the urge to cry. “Whether here or somewhere else.”

“I think…I want to leave,” she whispered, the words feeling like a betrayal.

“You’ve given everything to your cause, Cerasi, it’s time you got to live for yourself.”

“How?” she looked at him.

“One step at a time I figure. Watching Tim heal and find a place with us has shown that works. He doesn’t talk much about his life before but whatever happened that led to us finding him…it was bad. But look at him now and he’s come so far. You all can do that too.” He shrugged awkwardly.

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Bruce watched as Dick trained, his one remaining son…but Tim had never really been his. He’d kept a careful distance and Tim had done the same, because he had parents, then one parent. But Bruce had received the call, Jack Drake had passed without ever waking. He’d immediately filed the paperwork before the vultures could descent, Tim was still his foster son and getting the adoption papers accepted hadn’t been that hard. He could use his money for more than backing the Justice League after all. His inheritance would be protected.

Dick and Young Justice were positive that Tim was alive and every search came back with no proof of his death. Tim was alive, somewhere, waiting for them to find him. He had to be somewhere he couldn’t escape or make contact from which meant he was relying on them.

He had reached out to Captain Marvel, pushing him into searching with Constantine and Zatanna, to reach out to their contacts. If Kon-El and Clark couldn’t find Tim, then it was likely he was somewhere magically hidden or off-world…maybe even further. They knew the multi-verse existed after all.

They would find Tim and bring him home and Bruce would let the brilliant boy know just how cared for he was.

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Plo smiled at Obi-Wan joined him, he could sense the boy had made his decision, but what had he chosen?

“I would be honoured to be your Padawan, Master Koon, and to find a home on Manda'yaim,” Obi-Wan told him, bowing.

He settled his hands gently on too thin shoulders bowed by more weight than any child should ever carry. “It is I am that am honoured, Obi-Wan,” he told the boy. He gently tugged at where the Padawan braid would one day hang, the hair too short even a year after the last was cruelly severed. “Have you heard of the Mandalorian tradition of cin vhetin, Padawan?” he asked, drawing out the supplies he had asked Mereel for in the hope that Obi-Wan would agree.

“No Master,” he answered as he knelt.

“Cin vhetin means a fresh start, the erasing of a person’s past. It is symbolised by the colour white, as young Tim wears on his armour, among other colours.” He carefully secured the three ribbons to Ob-Wan’s hair, feeling the boy trembling slightly. “It ties well with one of their sayings, ‘Gar taldin ni jaon'yc; gar sa buir, ori'wadaasla’, which means that nobody cares who your parent was, only the parent you'll be. To them, your past is not as important as who you will be in the future. Speaking with Mand’alor Mereel, I have come to see that our people’s philosophies are not as different as many believe.”

He braided the white ribbons together with Obi-Wan’s messy hair even as he lowered his shields and reached for his new Padawan’s Force presence, carefully beginning to weave the bond between them, and then kept braiding the ribbons until he near the end. He then held up the beads he had asked for help creating. One to mark Obi-Wan’s Padawanship and the other was one that had not been given in at least a century.

“Master, I don’t recognise that one,” Obi-Wan murmured, eyes locked on the silvery bead engraved with the Orders symbol on one side and a lightsabre on the other.

“That is because it has not been given in a century, at least. This, Padawan, is a Battlefield achievement bead,” he explained, seeing Obi-Wan flinch slightly.

“It is nothing to be ashamed of young one. You have faced things no Padawan should have and you have come through them, without even a lightsabre,” he praised. Honestly, many senior Padawans would not have done as well, even some Knights. He braided in the two beads and then drew Obi-Wan to his feet. “Now, go show off your new braid to your friends, as is also tradition.”

Obi-Wan bowed and scurried off.

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Neild tugged gently at the braid made of ribbons, checking how secure it was. “You sure about this?”

Obi-Wan nodded. “I meditated on it and…it’s not the Temple, we’ll be staying with the Mandalorians. Master Koon will be training Tim as well.”

“As long as this is what you want, then we’re happy for you,” Cerasi said, shooting him a look.

“Thank you,” Obi-Wan smiled at them. “Have you decided what you want to do?”

“I...I think I will take the offer from Alderaan,” Cerasi answered and Neild stared at her. But…it made sense, she had never liked violence. Alderaan was peaceful but not completely pacifist.

That was Cerasi and Obi-Wan leaving, but he’d always known Obi-Wan would leave. He was one of them but also alien in a way but that was okay. The three of them would always be connected, no matter where they were. He hadn’t decided yet what he wanted to do, torn.

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Tim showed Obi-Wan to a spare bunk since Ba’jurir Koon had come in a one-man fighter. He was glad they would be going home soon. And it still felt strange, to think of Manda'yaim as home. Gotham had been home his whole life but after a year it had begun to really sink in that he wasn’t going back. Either the galaxy was a lot bigger than the Green Lantern Corps said…or he wasn’t in his dimension/universe anymore.

Obi-Wan had a small bag, mostly of gifts from the Young who hadn’t chosen to come with them. Cerasi had left the day before with a group bound for Alderaan, the Royal family there opening their arms to them. The Evaar Mando'ade had arrived the same day and had moved surprisingly quickly to begin rebuilding the most needed things, like secure shelter, full medical support… and Ba’jurir Koon had sent along the official request for the Jedi Service Corps aide, along with a report for the Senate on the end of the war.

“How are you coping?” Tim asked as Obi-Wan sat on the bunk.

“It…it doesn’t feel real yet,” he admitted softly.

Tim sat down beside him. “I know the feeling,” he admitted. “It still doesn’t, sometimes. Life on Manda'yaim isn’t perfect but it’s not a warzone like you’ve been in for the last year. And if Ba’jurir Koon ever does something like the one who left you…well, Mando do not react well to demagolka.”

Obi-Wan nodded slowly. “Thank you, for everything Tim. If you hadn’t come…”

“You’d have pulled through,” Tim told him. Likely with casualties among the Young, especially with what Mawat had pulled… but he really did believe that they would have managed. “So, what should I be expecting from Ba’jurir Koon?”

“I honestly don’t know,” Obi-Wan admitted. “I’ve never trained with him before. He is a Council Member and often goes on Searches.”

“Searches?” Tim asked, curious.

“Searches travel the galaxy, searching for Force Sensitive children so that they can explain to their families. They either leave information and contact details to ensure the family knows how to deal with a Force sensitive child and how to contact the Temple if they need help or, with the family’s blessing, they take the child to the Temple. The Jedi do not steal children, no matter what the rumours say. Sometimes, like with me, permission is not sought due to…danger to the child. I was found almost dead,” Obi-Wan whispered, and Tim took his hand.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, not sure what else to say.

“On Manda'yaim, those of us gifted are taught by the Goran. They are the metalsmiths, the armour makers but they are more than that. No true Mando would harm a child for being Force sensitive,” he used the Basic word for Obi-Wan.

Kyr'tsad might, he wouldn’t put it past them, especially with their calls to return to their crusader roots. Then again, back then, their people often allied with the darjetii so maybe they would want any ade trained like them?

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“You sure you want to train with them?” Jango asked, hearing Tim shift a little on his bunk below.

“Yes, Jango,” his vod’ika sighed. “It will be a good experience. The Goran has said there is little more they can teach me. Besides, I thought you like Obi-Wan.”

“I do, he has mandokar,” Jango admitted. All the Young had it in spades, well…other than Mawat and some of those with him, others had been coerced into helping his little rebellion. They had handed them over to the Alderaanians for justice, they would be fair.

He honestly did like Obi-Wan, it was the Ba’jurir he wasn’t so sure of. But he wouldn’t say anything, he didn’t like jetii but buir was excited for this chance to heal the wounds between their people. And if the first Mando Jetii since Tarre Vizsla was his vod’ika then Jango would be very proud. It was hard to say how the people would take it, the Dha Kad’au had become a symbol since Tarre’s death but many did not like the jetii…but Tim was Mando first. Politics.

Still, it would be good to finally be home again.

TBC…

Chapter Text

Disclaimer: not mine

Chapter 10

Mace read the massive message again, rubbing his temples as the various shatterpoints echoed in the Force. Several had been affecting him for the last year or so, and now he had some answers to why. Mandalore had become more stable, the Mand’alor had been set up for death but spared by finding a new son…a son who was Temple levels Force sensitive. Said son then began being called to Melida/Daan after a year which led to a squad being sent to investigate only to find Obi-Wan Kenobi. Apparently Plo had a report that would be following on his circumstances and he had the sinking feeling the Council had messed up somehow. The Mandalorians had been hired by a group called the Young to end the generations long war and then Plo had ‘engine troubles’ while close by and so had landed only to be met by both of Jaster Mereel’s sons with Obi-Wan in a bacta tank. And now…Obi-Wan was Plo’s Padawan and Plo had gained permission for a place on Mandalore itself!

Plo planned to train not just Obi-Wan, but Mereel’s youngest son. But he was careful to point out the boy would not be his Padawan but a student. And he could read between the lines, Plo was looking for an alliance with Mandalore for the Order, a way out from the ever-tightening noose the Senate had around their neck. Every year, they had to fight for their budget but if they could gain a powerful ally, they would have more power to negotiate.

A lot of the Council was not going to be happy with Plo’s actions, especially when he had acted without consultation, but Mace would back him. Things were moving on Mandalore and the Force seemed to favour them. Plo seemed to think the Force had literally interceded by placing the youngest son right in Mereel’s path. The Force did not tend to act in such ways though. He would like to meet the boy one day, he was curious.

He went to the archives, looking for Obi-Wan’s sabre to have it returned to him…only to come up empty. He knew Qui-Gon had it with him when he returned, shown as evidence of the boy leaving the Order. So, what had happened to it? Had Qui-Gon kept it? That wasn’t exactly against the rules but it wasn’t encouraged. There weren’t many rules around Padawans who left the Order because it was incredibly rare. Usually, they either went to a Corps before becoming a Padawan or because they aged out or they left as a Knight or Master. The fact that Obi-Wan, who had been so set on Knighthood had supposedly left for a girl, should have raised more questions. But the Senate had refused to risk any more lives to the war-torn planet and so they had been unable to investigate his circumstances. Hence the lie about engine trouble, of course, he would have really had some sort of issue, to keep the Order out of trouble if there was an investigation but Mace had no doubt Plo had caused it.

He would need to speak with many of the others about going ons in the Temple, Plo had hinted at things being overlooked or not questioned enough. And he would have to ask Qui-Gon about the lightsabre though…after a year parted from his Crystal and in a warzone perhaps it would be best for Obi-Wan to go on search for a new one. And the Mand’alor’s son would likely need one too, which ruled out Ilum. The boy was not a Jedi after all, and no one would agree to his being allowed on that world. Jedha perhaps?

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Surprisingly, it didn’t take all that long to get settled on Mandalore, they had Kel Dor among their numbers so fitting out a place for him was easy. There were enough similarities to the Jedi that he felt rather at home fairly quickly, though he had fewer meditation partners there was always someone ready and willing to spar with him. And he had a very eager to please Padawan…too eager. The boy’s self-worth and self-esteem were all but gone which he did not like at all, yes, a Jedi should be selfless but not to the extent Obi-Wan. Thankfully he had backup in working on that, young Tim was very happy to help, as was his whole family.

Training Tim was different, he had very different life experiences to those raised in the Temple after all. His skill with a bō and beskad made sabre training easier and also harder in different ways. But both boys needed their own sabres, which meant going to find their own kybers. Thankfully, there were worlds other than Ilum they could go to. Mace had suggested Jedha and Plo agreed it was likely the best option. Tim would be sixteen soon, would be ready undergo his Verd’goten and swear the Resol'nare. He should have his own lightsabre before then.

And Obi-Wan’s training was suffering for not having his own sabre as well. He had spoken a lot with Jaster about the Resol'nare and there wasn’t really anything in it that would interfere with Obi-Wan’s oaths to the Order. And Obi-Wan attended classes with the other ade, learning the way of the Mandose. If he wanted to swear the Resol'nare, Plo would have no problem with it, it had been done before after all.

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Tim followed Ba’jurir Koon from the ship and into the heat of Jedha, looking around the Holy City curiously, Obi-Wan beside him. Obi-Wan walked to his left as was proper for a Padawan. His braid had grown out over the last months, hair intertwining with the ribbons, a few more beads decorating it. Tim didn’t mind not following that tradition, it looked weird to him, too easy a handhold in a close in fight if out of armour.

Obi-Wan brushed against him and Tim returned the mental touch, the two of them excited but nervous. Obi-Wan had done this before but Tim hadn’t. having a crystal chose him was something so outside of his experience. A lot of his training with Ba’jurir Koon was. And then he saw the Temple, his eyes widening as he took it in, seeing the guardians at the doors.

“Will they be okay with my armour?” he asked softly.

“Of course, it is part of your creed, your religion,” Obi-Wan answered.

He still wore durasteel pieces, these ones now fitted properly to him. Bes'mabur, tadun'bur, and kom'rk which were the same style as Tim’s so they didn’t impact his acrobatics. Ba’jurir Koon had shown files from the Jetii Temple of the armour they had worn centuries ago to help the Goran with designing Tim’s final set. And Tim knew some was being designed with Obi-Wan in mind as well, everyone hoping he would be the first Jetii Mando since Tarre Vizsla.

Sure enough, the Guardians did nothing as Tim passed them, finding it cooler within the Temple, though his Kute was designed to help regulate his body temperature so the heat hadn’t been too bad. And they could use the Ka’ra to do the same thing, that had been good to learn. Ba’jurir Koon spoke with some people and then they were led to a chamber where they disarmed but sure enough were allowed to keep their armour. They were then sent through separate doors…they would search alone.

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Obi-Wan knelt, falling into meditation easily. He knew better than to rush into the search, needing to be centred first. He had warned Tim of that as well. While rate, initiates sometimes died in the caves of Ilum, he didn’t know if there was the same risk here and he didn’t want Tim to get hurt or worse. Once ready, he stood and began to walk, the tunnel descending beneath the Temple.

It was cool, the shadows dancing across the walls, the Force whispering strangely.

“You were my brother…I loved you!” A voice echoed and Obi-Wan felt a shiver of something. He didn’t recognise the voice…the future?

He turned to where the voice had come from, following it.

“Only a Sith deals in absolutes.”

Sith? It was a vision, not the definite future…but still, Sith?

“If you define yourself by the power to take life, the desire to dominate, to possess...then you have nothing.” This time a vision went along with the whisper, a dark night and a figure sitting before a fire, face concealed by their hood but a white beard visible.

“You’re like a father to me,” a different voice whispered, younger. And he got the sense of a quick smile, the smell of the oil used for droids.

“I have a bad feeling about this Master,” the first voice again but younger…was that him?

“Train the boy,” that voice he knew, his old Master, but weak. He staggered to a stop as he saw a vision of a round room…Qui-Gon lying on the ground and a Padawan kneeling tearfully over him, their braid long and marked with so many achievement beads and bands…that was him? He heard himself agree and the Galaxy grew darker.

He entered a cavernous area, hearing the sound of thousands…millions…of marching boots. Blaster fire…droids…lightsabres…

“Oya!” a Mando cry. Armoured fists clanging on chest plates… “Mand’alor!”

“Ibi'tuur jatne tuur ash'ad kyr'amur.” Was that Jango?

Images flickered all around him - waves of droids, dogfights over Coruscant…soldiers in white…Jaster with the Dha Kad’au…Tim dressed strangely being kicked out a window and plummeting to his death… two figures entwined on a bed…

And then he shook his head, the visions fading, his hand against the wall and something small coming away in it. He opened his fist and smiled at the sight of the kyber resting there.

They way out was easy, the Force calm around him again.

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Plo sat in the room, waiting for his Padawan and student, meditating. Areas with kyber were good for seeking visions in since the Force flowed freely and strong. He had no doubts that they would succeed. And he was very curious about the crystals that would choose them and the kinds of lightsabres they would be guided to build.

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Qui-Gon knelt in the garden, seeking peace in order to meditate. Mace had not been gentle in his chastisement. A jedi master, especially a Council member, yelling at someone was rare, thankfully they had been alone. He had forced Qui-Gon to read the medical report that Plo Koon had sent back regarding Obi-Wan Kenobi’s condition.

It had been shocking to say the least. Finding out he had spent a year fighting a losing war…it was meant to be basically over when he brought Tahl home to save her life. Obi-Wan had been malnourished, basically starving with injuries that had failed to heal properly. And he had left him there without even his pack let alone his lightsabre.

He was being forced into mandatory mind healing; every report submitted while Obi-Wan’s Master under review. Mace had taken Obi-Wan’s lightsabre as well. Obi-Wan had a new Master now, Plo Koon. He wasn’t sure he would be a good choice for the headstrong, angry boy. But he had no say in his life now.

Had he done the wrong thing?

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Tim walked through the tunnels, ever deeper under the Temple, but he wasn’t scared, it was familiar, nostalgic. He missed the Cave. Pity there were no…bats, he could hear bats. He kept walking and came out into the Batcave but that wasn’t possible. It hurt to see it; he could even smell it…but he knew it wasn’t real. He’d never had a vision but it must be one. The future? Or the past? Or a path no longer possible at all?

Batman sat at the computer except…no, it was Dick in the Batsuit. He did it sometimes, when B needed to be seen at the same time or when he was off world. And then another figure approached in civilian dress…it was weird to see himself, different. About the same age probably?

“You said we’d be okay!” his hands were clenched into fists. “My entire life has burnt down! Again!”

It faded away and Tim took a deep breath before walking on. He felt sick as an image of a battlefield assaulted his senses, unable to help crying out as he saw a familiar figure, lying far too limp, his shirt almost torn from his battered body, the S-shield ripped. Kon.

He had to keep going, he’d been warned he would be tested. And when he rounded the corner, he found a planet he didn’t remember, watching as his buir was gunned down in an ambush. Was that what would have happened if he hadn’t been found there?

Another corner and a fight, himself in armour though missing his buy'ce, beskar bō in hand, fighting against someone wielding a red lightsabre. A Zabrak? He didn’t recognise them at all. He grimaced as the fight ended with both of them dead. There was nothing to indicate where they were or what was happening so there was no real warning in the vision.

He pushed aside the whispers of his own childish voice when he had been left alone, speaking to fill the silence, begging his parents to come home. He closed his eyes as years of loneliness seemed to crash into him…but he wasn’t alone anymore. He had a family, friends who were with him and others he missed dearly. So, he kept pushing onwards.

He saw two figures entangled in bed, fighting down a blush as he took in the muscular back before the body shifted to another familiar figure…okay then. The Ka’ra was interested in his potential love life…why?

Then it went dark and Tim stood still, concerned about walking into something. Booted footsteps sounded in the darkness, a figure emerging. Combat gear, leather jacket, and a blood red helmet.

“Hey Replacement,” the voice was cold, mocking, and a gun rested in one hand, Tim’s bloody old bō in the other. Replacement? He faded away but the darkness remained.

“Tt,” this one sounded younger and he was surprised to see a boy in familiar colours, a sword in hand. “Usurper. You are not wanted or needed. I am the blood son, the rightful Robin.”

Tim ducked on instinct, a birdarangs flying through the space his head had been. When he straightened, he was alone again, the darkness gone.

Blood son…Bruce had a kid?

“Detective,” a voice purred and Tim shuddered at the sight of Ra’s al Ghul, looking down at…Tim, naked to the waist and covered in blood. The air glowed green…Lazarus green, Tim’s middle wrapped in bloody bandages. And then it changed, Tim ripping through ninja, his eyes glowing green.

Tim felt sick at the idea of being put in the Pit. Oh…Replacement, was it possible? Jason?

He kept walking, squeezing into a narrow gap, feeling something calling to him. Set into the rock above his head was a crystal and he knew it was his. He reached for it and it fell into his hand, making him smile. He turned and then froze as he stared at himself, the Dha Kad’au in hand and his eyes a sickly yellow. Tim stood his ground even as the figure lunged, the blade fading as it reached him, the image dispelling.

He got out of the alcove and went to leave but there was another tug, even deeper. So, he turned and kept going, the visions changing. War…endless, bloody war. Droids, men in uniform white armour…Verde, their armour dented…. would it never end?

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Plo was relieved when Tim stumbled out of the tunnels hours after Obi-Wan who he had sent to rest. Clutched in hand were two crystals. He caught Tim as he collapsed, carrying the boy to the room they had been given so that he could recover. It was obvious both boys had been through an ordeal. Just what had the Force chosen to show them?

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Bruce frowned as he studied the evidence from a murder scene in Crime Alley. Whispers were going around, of a gunman who wore a red helmet and called himself the Red Hood…one of the Joker’s earliest monikers. Who could it be? Was it a coincidence it had been a year since Tim vanished?

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Jaster smiled as his son and the two jetii emerged from the ship, glad they all seemed well. Plo had assured him that the journey should be safe, death was very, very rare. But since it wasn’t impossible, he had worried. He would have gone with them, or sent Jango at least, but the fighting had picked up. That had been part of why he had agreed to them going, the more weapons the boys had to defend themselves with, the better. But they were home now. No sign of lightsabre hilts though?

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“So, where’s the shiny new jetii'kad?” Jango looked his vod over, and Tim rolled his eyes.

“We still have to make them; we went for the kyber crystals Jango. We’re going to make them in the forge so the Goran can observe and for the raw materials.”

“Can we watch?” he was curious.

Tim shrugged. “You’ll have to ask Ba’jurir Koon, but jetii'kad seem to jetii like beskar'gam is to us. Would you want them to watch it being forged?” Tim asked, and Jango shuddered, shaking his head. Point made.

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Yoda stared out at the city, pondering the events of the last almost two years. Had he been mistaken in the will of the Force? Had Qui-Gon not been meant to be Obi-Wan’s Master? A child leaving the Order once a Padawan was beyond rare…why had he not questioned it more. Dear Obi-Wan had almost been lost to them through war. And now…he would not return. Plo sent regular updates on his training and the boy had sent messages to his friends, assuring them of his wellbeing.

Life on Manda'yaim seemed to be good for the bright child that Yoda had been so fond of. He had sent the teaching materials personally. And if Plo should take on more students beyond even the Ad’alor be Mandalore, well that was his decision. Sooner or later though, the Senate would find out about their correspondence with Mandalore. Interesting, their reactions would be.

TBC…

Chapter Text

Disclaimer: not mine

Chapter 11

Obi-Wan sat with his legs crossed on the floor of the Forge. Master Koon and the Goran were standing nearby, observing. He had made his first lightsabre on the ship back from Ilum with all the other Initiates so having an audience didn’t bother him. All of the parts came from the storeroom, items the Force had drawn him to. The Goran would charge them the cost of those he used since there would likely be pieces left over. Tim was sitting nearby, Obi-Wan has asked him to stay, he thought it would be good for him to see what he would be doing next. He rubbed his new kyber between his fingers, hearing it’s song…different to his old crystal, almost more…wild. But he’d been through a lot since he’d gone on the Gathering, he wasn’t the same person. He hadn’t known slavery or war as an Initiate after all.

Obi-Wan set the crystal down and closed his eyes, dropping into meditation, the pieces rising up into the air around him as he used the Force to manipulate them. While he had an idea for the design, the crystal and the Force might want something very different. He had no idea of time as he remained in meditation but finally it was time to set the Kyber into the hilt very carefully before closing it up.

He opened his eyes as the weight of the hilt landed in his hands, looking down at his new lightsabre. It looked different to his old one, made to fit his growing hands better. But there were also rings of beskar set into the hilt, encircling it, making it hardier. The rings were silvery but the rest was a burnished bronze with black wrappings where he would grip the hilt.

Obi-Wan stood up and held it in front of him, taking a deep breath before activating it for the first time. The blade was dark blue, much darker than his previous blade and it seemed to be made more for one handed wielding than two which was interesting. He wavered on his feet, exhausted, and de-activated the weapon, Tim slipping under his shoulder a second later, supporting him over to his Master.

“Well done, Padawan,” Master Koon praised.

“Thank you, Master,” he murmured. How long had he been working for to be so exhausted?

Tim helped him to a seat and pressed a ration bar and cup of water on him, which helped him feel better. “Are you alright?” he asked in concern and Obi-Wan smiled.

“Just tired. It’s a deep meditation and mentally taxing,” he explained.

“Right. Guess I’m up next.”

“There is no right or wrong way,” he murmured. “Trust the Force.”

Tim nodded, squeezing his hand, before walking to where Obi-Wan had sat earlier. He had a lot more pieces laid out in front of him, but he had two crystals. Obi-Wan wondered if he’d have a double-bladed lightsabre since he was used to using a staff but Master Koon said that wasn’t an indicator, after all, Tim was also comfortable with his beskad and even a blaster now.

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Plo was pleased with his Padawan’s progress. This lightsabre was the work of a senior Padawan, not a junior but he had seen trials that many Knights did not, so was it that surprising? He did wonder how much influence living among the Mando’ade had on the crystal given how dark a blue it was. It was not the black of the only Mandalorian lightsabre, but it was a much darker blue than Obi-Wan’s previous blade. And the song of the crystal was wilder, but almost rhythmic…like marching boots.

What surprises would young Tim deliver?

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Tim sat down, a crystal in each hand. They seemed so small for something so important, still clear looking. He had been meditating with them since he had woken on Jedha, forging a deeper connection with them, but he wouldn’t see their colour till he ignited his blade for the first time. He was very curious as to why he had two though. There were ingots of beskar and cortosis among the supplies which had him curious, would his sabre have rings through it like Obi-Wan’s?

He took a deep breath, glancing up at Koon and the Goran and then closed his eyes, settling into meditation. He’d been practicing object manipulation in the lead up to the trip to Jedha so he’d be ready for this, and it came easily to him unlike many other Force abilities. Ka’ra…Force…it didn’t matter what the name was, it was all the same thing. He’d always been good with technology and he loved all of the different things his new home had that Earth didn’t. Buir was very happy to let him tinker with whatever he wanted; he had his own workroom now.

He reached out with the Ka’ra, feeling all of the pieces, letting it guide him.

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Plo watched as the objects began to lift into the air, spinning about the boy. He had never seen Tim reach such a deep mediation before, but it was good to see him doing so now. His gift with technology would likely help in the construction. It was not surprising to see the beskar and cortosis rising into the air, a very interesting mix.

Obi-Wan’s lightsabre was different to his original from what Plo could remember seeing in the salles. He’d almost think he was meant to dual wield but he had only gained one crystal, so it was a puzzle.

But Tim had two crystals and from what was lifting to join together…hmmm.

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Tim struggled to hold the meditation, exhausted despite being buoyed by the Ka’ra. He remained focused on the kyber crystals and the pieces, the basic blueprint for a functional lightsabre in mind. It was a relief when he guided them in, sealing the hilt and then he felt a weight land in each hand. His eyes snapped open and he stared in shock, two?!

He stared at the twin hilts in his hands, noticing the pommels were very different to Obi-Wan’s, as if…he studied them carefully then brought them together, twisting them and they clicked together, forming one longer hilt. He released them back into two and stood up, seeing the excitement in Obi-Wan’s eyes. Tim took a deep breath and activated both of them, staring in shock at the blades, their song suddenly strong…the sound of thousands marching together, whispers of Oya…

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Plo was not shocked by the twin hilts, not with two crystals. The colours however… he had never seen such kyber before. He knew black was possible due to the Darksaber but Tim’s were not solely black, no, streaks of a shade of yellow that was basically gold crackled around the black. Dual wielded sabres did occasionally combine into one so that wasn’t new, but it wasn’t common, most Jedi preferred either to fully dual wield or to use only a single sabre. He would need to adjust his teaching methods when it came to Tim’s training.

Now that they had their own lightsabres, he could begin working with them to determine which form would suit them best. Obi-Wan had a good grounding in Shii-Cho and had begun training in Ataru under Jinn but that didn’t mean either of them was the form he was best suited to. Tim had his training with a staff and beskad, some of which could translate to the sabre and Plo had been teaching him Shii-Cho since that was the best form for beginners to get used to using a lightsabre with. Both boys were acrobatic enough for Ataru so he might continue the work Jinn had begun with it for now.

Obi-Wan moved to help Tim over to a seat, ensuring he ate and drank just as Tim had done for him. The natural bond between the two had become stronger since Melidaan and he did nothing to discourage it, not when the Force itself had created it across star systems.

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Bruce stared at the duffle full of heads, horrified. Bruce’s hope was destroyed now, no matter what, he would never have done something like this so it couldn’t be him. But the timing had been so symbolic, as was the name… there hadn’t been a clear picture of the Red Hood which had let him cling to the desperate hope and he knew Dick had too. But now there was an image of the Red Hood, plus the heads…it wasn’t him…it wasn’t Tim.

It would have made sense in a way if it had been him but this man was too tall and well-built for it to ever be him, Tim’s body simply hadn’t been the type to be able to bulk up like that. The guns hadn’t been proof either way, Bruce knew that Tim could shoot and didn’t have the issues he did with guns, even Dick didn’t since he’d carried one as a cop. A traumatised and tortured Tim coming back, he could understand him moving to a lethal weapon, to a more brutal method, but not this far.

It hurt but was also a relief, his youngest hadn’t gone so far. He was still out there somewhere, waiting for them. But it still left the question, who could the Red Hood be? They obviously hated Joker but so many people did, it didn’t exactly narrow the suspects down.

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Mace sank back in his seat, wishing he could make Plo face the Senate instead but no, the other Master was happily on Mandalore with his Padawan and student. They might as well call the boy a Padawan given the fact he now had a lightsabre, well two of them. Plo had not sent much information on the boy which was understandable given he was one of Mereel’s heirs and the system was not entirely safe. Plus, who knew what the Senate would do if they found out.

He didn’t like the mentions of increasing violence that Plo had made, none of them did. Plo may have stepped back from the Council to take Obi-Wan as his Padawan but he was still one of them and a Jedi. And Obi-Wan would be in even more danger as a Padawan and apparently, he was close to Mereel and his family. Given the historical animosity between their peoples, they would be very tempting targets.

“We should recall Master Koon and Padawan Kenobi,” Ki-Adi-Mundi stated.

“No,” Yoda shook his head. “Where need to be, they are. Will of the Force, it is.” He looked concerned as well, but he would not recall them if he believed the Force wanted them on Mandalore.

They could send no backup; the Senate had made sure of that.

“Perhaps we could station a Shadow pair in a system nearby but within Republic space,” Yan Dooku suggested.

The man carried some guilt over the treatment of Obi-Wan, the boy had been his Grandpadawan and yet they had never met. But it was an idea with merit.

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Jaster looked over the possible missions to take, he wanted Jango to get some more experience before permanently assigning him several traatikase. Tim wouldn’t be going with him though; it was time for him to undergo his verd'goten. Had it really been two years since they had found him near death? He would be sixteen soon, Jango already was, and Obi-Wan had just turned fifteen. They weren’t truly children anymore; they were growing up far too fast.

“There’s a mission on Galidraan, the Governor wants to hire us to put down an insurrection,” he offered his eldest.

“No!” Two voices called out in unison, and Jaster looked over at where Tim and Obi-Wan were sitting.

Tim appeared confused by his outburst but Obi-Wan was simply worried.

“Hmm…” Plo closed his eyes. “The Force is being particularly forceful on this one Mand’alor.”

“A trap…it feels like a trap,” Tim murmured, frowning. “Like… Vizsla.”

Jaster’s expression tightened. Vizsla, if he could defeat him then the war would be all but over. Which meant a force much greater than the Governor was requestion would need to be sent to the planet.

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Sidious glowered at the latest report. Things had been going very nicely in the Mandalore system, until somehow that idealistic fool Mereel had somehow avoided the trap on Korda Six. Since then, Mandalore had become impossible to direct. He needed either Vizsla or those imbecilic pacifists in control of the sector, them he could use, but not Mereel. That man was proving far too lucky and too smart for such a barbaric people. The Mandalorians were meant to serve the Sith but that man would not and so had to be removed, his forces scattered and killed. Rumour had it the man had at least one heir, but it shouldn’t be too hard to arrange for them to die as well if they would not submit to the Sith.

This trap should cripple Mereel’s faction as well as bring down greater scrutiny on the Jedi.

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Jaster was taking Jango with him but he was leaving Tim behind in the care of Kal and Mij. Tim’ika and Ob’ika were not entirely happy at being left behind but they weren’t sure what they would be facing and Plo agreed with him that they should be kept safe. Taking both of his heirs was not smart, Melidaan had been different. He would not take both his ade into a Kyr’tsad trap. He was taking a good part of their fighting force to face Vizsla and his men.

When they returned, Tim would be leaving for his verd’goten. He wondered what he would choose, a bounty hunt maybe? There were a variety of options since not all Mando’ade chose to be fighters. Jango had chosen a bounty hunt for his. And he wondered, would Obi-Wan undertake a verd’goten?

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Yan frowned as he read over the mission briefing, this…this did not make any sense. Something was very wrong. He sent a message to Master Koon but he would not be able to receive the answer until they exited hyperspace again. He did not like bringing Komari on the mission, she was too eager for battle. The Council had sent a fighting squad rather than one focused on investigation and all because of the Senate. But there was nothing he could do until he received word from Plo and they arrived at Galidraan.

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He watched the comings and goings of the city, annoyed he couldn’t get to the clown yet. But the whispers…Robin hadn’t been seen in a year, not in Gotham or with his team. Of course, Batman hadn’t commented but Nightwing was tense. And the disappearance coincided with a Joker breakout…one from which it took the Joker months to recover first in hospital and then Arkham’s infirmary once he’d been brought back in. As if someone had taken their rage out on him.

Had the Joker clipped another Robin’s wings?

He wasn’t sure how he felt about that. There was anger that the Joker had been allowed to live long enough to do so. Some glee that the Replacement got what he deserved but…did anyone deserve what that monster would do to them. Did he really want the kid dead or just out of the suit?

He had the bats attention thanks to the duffle bag of heads but it was strange, the man had seemed almost…disappointed? Weird. Had he worked out his id and was upset his so-called son had fallen so far from his teachings? Poor Batman.

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Plo stared at the message from Yan Dooku, so that was the trap. He immediately took it to Jaster so that they could decide what to do. It would be best to confront the Governor with official Jedi backup. He was not an official presence and could not represent the Order under the circumstances. They would have to wait for the Jedi transport to arrive but at least his presence would ensure there was no battle between them. No, they could focus on the Governor and Kyr’tsad.

This seemed an odd planet to choose to confront the Haat Mando'ade, so why had Vizsla chosen it? Or had he been working with the Governor on something and then decided he should lay a trap? And who was the target, Jaster or his children?

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Yan was relieved to find a message from Plo but shocked to learn he was on the planet, awaiting their arrival.

Their ship landed and he disembarked to find Master Koon waiting, dressed in his usual robes, an armoured form at his side. They exchanged bows of greeting.

“Master Yan Dooku, this is Mand’alor Jaster Mereel,” he introduced them.

Yan felt a spike of shock, if they had done as the Senate ordered…it would have been a disaster. And when they entered the Mandalorian camp he realised it would have been one for their team. He had twenty Jedi but he doubted it would have been enough, not with their armour and historical training to fight Jedi.

“It seems the Senate was misinformed,” he murmured, and Plo nodded gravely.

TBC…

Chapter Text

Disclaimer: not mine

BTW – anyone who reads my DC vampire fics, I put them all into the blood childe series to make them easier to find even though Eternally is not at all connected to that original series.

Chapter 12

They carefully looked over all of the intel they had, seeing the trap that had been neatly laid but…it was not Vizsla’s style. Was someone else pulling the strings? But Tim had sensed Vizsla and Kyr’tsad was on the planet, was someone backing them? But why? He was grateful to have the Jetii on their side, while he was sure the forces he had brought would have won, it would not have been without heavy casualties and the possibility of war.

He glanced at the two Jetii and they nodded, it was time to confront the Governor and see what he knew. Dooku was very different to what he had expected, more aristocrat than mystic monk. But it made sense, the Jetii were made up of all kinds of beings so of course they would all be different, something else their societies had in common.

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Yan stared at the cowering man, he had not expected to be confronted by Jedi and Mandalorians together. No, he had expected them to wipe each other out, that was very easy to sense. But the man did not seem smart enough for such a plan…or brave enough. He kept his face bland as a certain scent reached him, wonderful, the man was so scared that he had soiled himself. Really.

“Where is Vizsla?” Mereel growled out from behind his helmet. At least he didn’t have to deal with the smell.

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Dick brought his eskrima up as he spun to face the helmeted figure. He was almost as big as B! He knew what Bruce had half hoped and half feared, had done the same, but there was no way. Tim wouldn’t get so big with years to grow let alone only one…unless someone interfered, in their world there were a lot of things that could change someone. But the brutality just didn’t fit, even if Tim snapped, his temper ran cold. He’d just grinned and shrugged, said he was like his Mom, that they were Drakes. Dick had looked into that and Janet Drake had been one scary lady when she had to be, so had her Mother…who might have killed her husband? The Gotham elite were just so strange.

The Red Hood stared at him, hands on his guns but he hadn’t drawn them, yet.

“Can I help you with something?” he kept his tone light, he really didn’t like to get shot even with the armour.

“What happened to Robin?” the mechanised voice asked, and Dick tensed.

“What is it to you?” he fought not to snarl the question.

“Just curious,” the other shrugged. No…there was more to it than that, but what?

“Oh?” he forced himself to ask.

“Need to know if I gotta be extra brutal when finishing that clown off.”

They were planning on payback for Tim? But why? Hatred of Joker hurting anyone? Just a general liking of Robin or something else?

But there was something…something about them that felt almost familiar. Who else would have such a beef with the Joker, want Crime Alley safe, be against the clown hurting Rob…no, that was even more impossible than Hood being Tim. It couldn’t be…they’d buried him…but…

“Who are you?” he whispered, lowering his eskrima slowly, seeing Hood tense.

“Why did Batman seem disappointed?” was the counter question and Dick hesitated, well, it proved he’d been watching them.

“Because…he hoped you were Robin.”

“What happened?” Hood asked, an edge to the mechanical voice.

“Joker grabbed him, we tracked them to a warehouse but all we found was the Joker and Robin’s blood. There was no body, no trail, nothing. And even when questioned by Wonder Woman, Joker insists he didn’t kill Robin.”

“Not this one,” Hood muttered, and Dick’s heart was racing.

It shouldn’t be possible…it couldn’t be… Dick whistled a very specific pattern and Hood’s attention shot back to him immediately…as if trained. Not Tim but… “Little Wing?” he whispered.

And Hood stiffened completely, taking a slight step back…

“Jason?” Dick took a hesitant step towards him, “is it really you?”

“What do you care?” Hood…Jason spat in rage. “You replaced him fast enough.”

“No!” Dick snapped. This was Jason…it had to be, so he put the eskrima away, holding his hands out as he approached. “No one could ever replace you Little Wing,” he stated firmly before pausing to take a deep breath. He checked his wrist computer, no surveillance. So, he reached up and removed his domino, reckless, probably, but he had to get through to Jason.

“Right, from the guy too busy to even go to my funeral,” he sneered, and Dick relaxed. My, he said my funeral.

“Jason…I didn’t even know you were…I got back from the mission to find you were gone and the funeral already held. Alfred had to call Clark to pull me off B. I stepped back from the Titans, from everything, I just…I couldn’t… then I found out Haly’s was going under, went to look into it. Found out someone was messing with them…and that’s where Tim found me. He wasn’t looking to be Robin, he wanted me to go back to the role, because B was…it was bad, really bad. I came back to Gotham to help B with a case and Two-Face nearly killed us, Tim saved the day with some help from Alfred,” he paused to take a breath and make sure Jason was following.

Jason hesitated but then removed his helmet, revealing a red domino beneath it. He’d really grown up…and there was a streak of white in his hair, then again, all the trauma his body had suffered…it could be anything. He wavered but then removed the domino and Dick saw the clues, feeling sick. Once blue eyes were now green, added to the extra muscle mass and height plus white hair…he really hated the al Ghul’s.

“B didn’t choose him?” he asked, and Dick shook his head. “How’d he know to go to you, why?”

“Because he was there…at Haly’s the night my parents… there’s a photo with me holding him on my knee, I just never realised it was our next-door neighbour despite seeing him at galas on and off. When he was nine, he saw Robin do a quadruple and he put it together, worked out other id’s once he had me and Bruce pinned. Knew immediately when you became Robin. Crazy kid used to stalk as at night with a camera, you should see his photos, his best work is of you. So, he saw first-hand how far off the rails B was going without you, showed me the photos.”

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Jason fought the rage down to really listen to Dick, feeling amused that their id’s were compromised by a nine-year-old because he had to show off. The idea the kid saw the Grayson’s fall…ouch. But how old had he been, two? Knowing Dick hadn’t chosen to miss his funeral helped, that he’d fought Bruce over it.

“Bruce hated the idea of another Robin, never wanted another kid in the suit, but Tim’s a stubborn kid and…Alfie and I agreed with him. Bruce needs someone there to make him think, to pull him back. He wouldn’t even train Tim, sent him overseas…and somehow the kid came back with a bō curtesy of Lady Shiva, never managed to get the story out of him. he has no sense of self-worth, but it’s gotten better, especially once Young Justice formed. He’s so smart and cheeky once he opens up, smarter than B even. You know he made up a fake uncle after his parents died to keep Bruce from adopting him? All because he didn’t want to be a bother.”

Yeah…that sounded like horrendous self-worth issues…nothing like he’d been told. “What happened to him?” Cause this kid, sounded like someone he’d want to have as a little brother.

“The Joker took him, apparently, he wanted a kid and decided that Tim, well Robin, was the perfect candidate. We got the footage…he was taunting him, chasing him down, beating him and letting him run again…by the time we found them…he’d gotten Tim to a warehouse and the things in there…” Dick shuddered. “We found his bō, bloody and broken, and the Joker was there right beside a pool of blood but no sign of Tim. We’ve tried everything, called the JL, Tim’s team…even the Green Lantern Corps since Joker said he vanished in a flash of light. But there’s no sign. When you showed up a year later… the timing and name, well…”

“I’ve got contacts,” Jason murmured, and he would use them. The thought of another kid beaten by the Joker, the idea that monster wanted to make him his kid… even if Tim had been what he thought, he’d still help because no one deserved that.

“Part of the trouble finding him might be…the Joker slit his throat,” Dick whispered. “We don’t know how deep but he was proud about that. So, we don’t know, Tim might be…”

“Mute. So, if off planet or even in another country, communication might be limited, making him harder to find.”

“Will you come home?” Dick asked hopefully, and he shook his head, seeing the pain in his brorther’s eyes.

“I can’t Dickie…I…Bruce… I didn’t come back right.”

“The Pit,” Dick murmured, and he nodded. Of course he’d recognise the signs.

“I’m not sure what I’d do, and Alfie doesn’t deserve to see that.”

“Can I at least tell them? You could call Alfred, maybe meet up for tea somewhere if seeing Bruce would be too much.”

Jason hesitated but eventually gave him the number to one of his phones to keep and pass on to Alfred only.

“I won’t ask you to stop, but could you maybe tone down the gore factor? You didn’t have to see Commissioner Gordon nearly throw up on B with the duffle bag.”

Jason grimaced, he’d always liked Jim Gordon, the man was so unflappable so the idea he’d caused that… “Where’s Babs anyway?” He hadn’t really been told anything about her.

And Dick winced but slowly told him about the Joker’s attack…thew clown was a dead man walking. How had Gordon not ‘accidentally’ shot the monster? But he was glad that Babs had risen above it and become even more a threat to criminals than Batgirl had been. Oracle, huh? That explained a lot, he’d been told the name but not who was behind it.

They parted soon after and Jason was shocked to find he felt…lighter, the anger not gone but less.

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Tim leant back against the tree, staring up at the sky beyond the dome. Something …something didn’t feel quite right but he couldn’t work it out, which was why he was outside rather than sleeping like most. He wasn’t surprised when another body dropped down beside him, Obi-Wan dressed in only his tunics, no robe but with his armour pieces in place, good. Just because the palace compound was meant to be safe didn’t mean it wouldn’t be attacked. Tim wasn’t wearing most of his armour, just the same pieces as his friend, since he'd been relaxing before coming outside. Durasteel bes'mabur, tadun'bur, and kom'rk, still in the same colours that he’d painted from the start.

His final, beskar armour was now ready for the day he swore the Resol’nare, unpainted until he completed his verd’goten. That he was nervous about, he wasn’t sure what to choose. The obvious choice was a bounty hunt, the closest thing there was to a vigilante in this dimension. At least, he was pretty sure he was in another dimension after having studied hard to catch up to his age mates he’d looked at a lot of galactic history and star charts and there was nothing…plus here, the planet where humans first came from was very different to Earth. Most thought humans had first come from Coruscant so he’d read everything he could find on the planets history.

“Can’t sleep?” Obi-Wan asked softly.

“Something feels off,” he admitted. “It’s probably just buir and Jango both being gone,” he shrugged slightly, their bes'mabur thudding together softly.

“They’re not usually?” Obi-Wan asked.

Tim shook his head. “Too risky for the Mand’alor and his heir to be gone together, even with a secondary heir,” and that still felt weird. “Melidaan was an anomaly. Before they found me, they travelled more together but that was because of Jango’s age and buir still training him. Knowing they’re walking into a Kyr’tsad trap…”

“They have Master Koon with them,” Obi-Wan reminded him gently.

“Yeah, they…” he straightened and then froze, feeling Obi-Wan go still as well.

“There’s someth, down!”

Tim hit the dirt, feeling the warmth and weight of Obi-Wan on his back, covering him, even as there was a loud explosion. “The trap wasn’t on Galidraan,” he gasped even as Obi-Wan moved, rolling to his feet.

“Ad’alor!” a sentry yelled.

He glanced at Obi-Wan who nodded even as Tim brushed over him, not sensing any pain. “We’re fine!” he called back, drawing his blaster, seeing Obi-Wan draw his lightsabre. Yes, Tim was being trained with his sabre, but he knew he wasn’t combat ready with it. “Come on,” he called to Obi-Wan, rushing for the nearest cover.

They needed to reach the palace command centre…after he grabbed his armour.

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Kal nodded as the two boys ran into the command centre, Tim’ika still settling his armour fully, but his weapons were ready.

“What happened?” The Ad’alor asked as he stepped up to the holotable, Obi-Wan a silent shadow at his side…was he positioning himself as a bodyguard? He supposed it made sense, the jetii were often tasked with protecting planetary rulers and politicians and Tim was the only current member of the Mand’alor’s family on the planet.

“Kyr’tsad,” Kal answered, bringing up the bomb sights on the holomap. Both boys studied the images intently, even before coming to Manda’yaim, Tim had been trained in some level of counterterrorism as part of his overall training. And the jetii too would likely train such things, though Obi-Wan likely had more hands-on training than average due to where they’d found him.

“This makes no sense,” Tim murmured, Obi-Wan nodding agreement. Good, they’d seen it, those bombs had not been planted in the obvious weak points in their defences or even areas that would give mass casualties at night. “Did they go off early?”

“Remotely detonated.”

“They’re here,” Obi-Wan murmured, eyes distant. “Not on Galidraan…that’s the trap, it was a distraction.”

“Draw a portion of our forces off and hit whoever’s left here. But the warning we got was through the Force…does Vizsla know enough about the Jetii to assume one of you would sense it?” Tim asked.

“Your training with the Goran and now the Jetii isn’t secret either,” Kal pointed out.

“Send a message to buir,” Tim ordered, and Kal nodded.

Technically, Tim had not been left in command, not when he hadn’t sworn or undergone his verd’goten but he had a good head on his shoulders, mandokar to spare. Kal would guide him but this might be a good test of his leadership capabilities. Though…he’d apparently led a traat'aliit back on his birth planet.

The two boys spoke quietly together, the Ka’ra speaking to them? But the defence plan they came up with seemed solid to him. and then the reports began to flood in of approaching ships and speeders.

,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,

He was aware of his Apprentice’s meddling in Mandalore’s affairs and let it be. While the Mandalorians had often served the Sith well, he doubted they were of any use now, too fractured to serve as worthy soldiers for either side of the coming conflict. If his plans took out the so-called Mand’alor the Reformer then all the better since he was the sectors best chance at unification that wasn’t controlled by the Senate to pull the Mandalorians claws. The so-called New Mandalorians would be no threat to anyone should they attain power and Vizsla’s descendant was good at nothing but mindless terror. Perhaps the Mandalorians would wipe themselves out in their civil war.

,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,

“Mand’alor!” a communications officer called to get his attention, and Jaster accepted the message, eyes narrowing in anger.

“Kyr’tsad bombed Keldabe,” he growled, seeing Jaster tense, everyone on alert. He looked to his eldest. “The boys are fine,” he assured him, seeing him relax a bit at that news.

That would explain why they had only found a smaller than expected force with no sign of Vizsla…they were back on Manda'yaim. Had they waited for Jaster’s forces to arrive before leaving to head back or had they never been there in the first place.

“I apologise Ba’jurir Dooku, but it appears we must return home immediately.”

“Of course Mand’alor Mereel,” the aristocratic Jetii inclined his head and then moved to speak with Ba’jurir Koon.

Would the force he left behind be enough to defend the capital and his son?

,,,,,,,,,,,,,,

“Alfred Pennyworth speaking.” The number calling was unknown which was odd.

“Hey Alfie, sorry I missed our last book club meeting,” a voice responded, and he nearly dropped the phone.

It couldn’t be…could it?

TBC…