Put your empty hands in mine - K_R_Closson - Star Wars (2024)

Chapter 1

Chapter Text

“I need your help. I—” Bail Organa cuts himself off with a curse which would earn Ben a lecture and a thorough rinsing of his mouth, even as old as he is now. “You look like sh*t.”

Ben can’t help but laugh. It starts in his belly and rises up until his entire body shakes with it. “There’s the smooth-talking politician I’ve come to know.” He wipes the tears from his eyes, and the moisture wets the dirt on his hands.

Ben is filthy and, given what he was doing before his summons, he’s entirely certain there is actual sh*t clinging to his pants right now. He looks at the holo-projection of his friend and decides to take pity on him and not share that fact.

“Senator Bail Organa of Alderaan reached out to the AgriCorps with an urgent request to speak with me,” Ben says. “Which means you get me fresh off the transport. Be glad you can only see me and not smell me.”

Bail wrinkles his nose, and Ben smiles even wider. Bail is a consummate politician. It’s a sign of their friendship that he shows Ben his true reactions, rather than tucking them behind endless diplomacy.

“Was your mission successful?” Bail asks.

“It was,” Ben answers. He was on a routine tour of settlements the AgriCorp has aided in the past five years. There is a complicated schedule of when planets are visited to make sure development is still proceeding smoothly. Ben’s last stop was Banukah, and he arrived in time to assist with the planting season, hence the mess of his clothes.

“Are you between assignments?” Bail asks.

The Force sings to Ben, of opportunity as much as warning. Bail has something up his sleeve and whatever it is, it’s big enough for the Force to poke Ben and say pay attention. There is a queue full of aid requests, and Ben’s first order of business when he returns to his AgriCorp base is to peruse the list and pick his next assignment.

The only reason he doesn’t technically have an assignment right now is because he was shuffled from his transport straight to this call with Bail. “I don’t have an active assignment,” Ben answers truthfully. As a Specialist, he’s allowed a four-day standard rest between assignments, but he rarely takes more than one. He prefers to stay busy.

“Good,” Bail says. “I’ll be in orbit in three standard days. This is a conversation I’d like to have in person.”

The Force is almost deafening in his head, as if Ben doesn’t have perfectly functioning eyes and ears which tell him this is A Moment.

“I’ll keep my schedule clear,” Ben says.

#

Specialist Ben Lars, age thirty-six, is the most successful member of the AgriCrops in his age group. He is accomplished across disciplines, and he’s excelled ever since war clutched the galaxy in its unforgiving grasp. He specializes in refugees, in resettlement and repopulation. He helps people reclaim what the war tried to strip away.

He’s certain Bail’s project involves Ben’s particular intersection of skills, but he’s curious why Bail approaches Ben directly, rather than the AgriCorps leadership.

Well, at the moment, Bail approaches the AgriCorps leadership, Ben’s superiors who all flock to the spaceport to greet their esteemed visitor. Ben swaggers into the room in clean, but worn trousers, and a mis-matched tunic.

Bail, in the day-to-day finery he enjoys as both a senator of Alderaan and consort to the Queen, is like a crate of water amongst the rubble of a supply depot. Ben, impatiently, bounces on his toes as he waits for Bail to finish greeting each of the stuffy AgriCorps Jedi who no doubt wish Ben was still out in deep space and not here to embarrass them.

When it’s Ben’s turn, he and Bail clasp forearms and touch their foreheads together in a traditional greeting. “Thank you for giving me advance notice of your arrival,” Ben says in crisp, polished Galactic-standard. “I made sure to be clean this time.”

He winks as his supervisors titter. Like everywhere in the galaxy, the AgriCorps is filled with people who care for their work in the bottom ranks and those who only care for their reputations at the top. Ben is far more popular with middle management, the ones who give out assignments but still remember the feel of dirt in their hands.

“Would you accompany me onto my ship?” Bail asks. His expression hasn’t changed, but Ben can detect the amusem*nt Bail fights to keep down. “I’ve prepared a meal for us.”

“Fifty-percent alcohol, then?” Ben asks.

The Jedi near him puff up, offended on Bail’s behalf. Bail waves off their apologies and ushers Ben onto his ship. As soon as the landing ramp closes behind him, Bail drops all pretense. “You’re in a mood today. You haven’t been home long enough for this.”

Ben shrugs, and he loses his insolence but also his smile. “This isn’t home. The more difficult I am, the more eager they are to send me away. The war may be over, but our work will continue for years.”

When the Separatists and the Republic began their war, Ben knew there would be far reaching consequences. Even as the Inner Rim planets saw few changes to their lives, the Mid Rim, and especially Outer Rim, suffered. Casualties were low, the battles fought between droids and clone troopers, but the collateral damage was mind-boggling.

Also, if you are someone like Ben who believes in the sentience of all beings, the causalities were still too high. He stopped reading opinions on the war after he cracked one too many screens, furious at the casual dismissal of the clone troopers’ lives.

With a war fought between droids and clones on the outskirts of the galaxy, most of the people in charge of funding and continuing the war felt no pressure to bring it to an end. He knows Bail and his contingent, including Padmé Amidala of Naboo and Mon Mothma of Chandrila, fought hard, both to end the war and grant citizenship to the clone army.

Ben doesn’t understand how the Jedi Order became the generals and military arm of the Republic, and, if he’s honest, he isn’t entirely sure why the war ended. Like everyone, he heard about Count Dooku’s kidnapping of Chancellor Palpatine. He didn’t mourn when the assassination attempt succeeded or when the effort claimed Count Dooku’s life as well.

The ship Dooku held Palpatine on exploded, ending both their lives. The war concluded quickly afterward, as if losing the Republic’s leader and the Separatist’s most influential general was enough.

Ben doesn’t look for answers. He focuses on dealing with the aftermath. Because while the war is over, it went on too long. His specialization is in refugee situations, especially those displaced and traumatized by violence. He has spent the war jumping from crisis to crisis, doing all he can to help.

With the war finally over, perhaps there will stop being new planets in crisis, and they may finally make progress in restoring the health and happiness of the galaxy’s inhabitants.

Bail leads Ben into the small receiving room which opens into his personal quarters. Ben’s surprised, and then intrigued, when Bail’s attendants close the door and stay on the other side of it. He and Bail are alone.

The table in front of them is laden with food, and Bail’s bed is in Ben’s line of sight. If Bail didn’t feel so troubled in the Force, Ben would suspect he was being seduced.

Bail twists the ring on his middle finger. There’s a low buzz, the kind Ben associates with anti-eavesdropping technology. Ben sits in the chair Bail offers him and then waits, without quip or question, for Bail to explain.

“Did you know Anakin Skywalker was supposed to rescue Chancellor Palpatine from Count Dooku?” Bail asks.

Ben covers his flinch at the name. He’s struggled to be informed of the galaxy while at the same time protecting himself against old wounds. Skywalker threatens his shields and his control, every time. But yes, he does know about the prodigy turned general. More recently, his name has been in the news, because he eloped with Senator Amidala.

Ben hums, intrigued by Bail’s choice of words. “Supposed to?”

Bail’s smile is grim, even as he nods. “It was a ploy. Palpatine arranged the kidnapping himself. We’re still unsure whether he intended for Anakin to strike Dooku down in the rescue or only to strengthen his relationship with Anakin, but it was deliberate.”

“Palpatine was working with Dooku?” Ben asks. He’s fairly certain the two men were on opposite sides of the war.

Bail hesitates. “What I’m telling you here could cost me my senate seat, and Alderaan could face serious repercussions.”

Ben swallows thickly as the Force presses heavy against him. “I will guard your confidence as closely as I guard my own,” he promises.

“The Jedi Council uncovered proof that Palpatine was the Sith Master behind the war.”

Palpatine? A Sith? Force, no wonder the war was such a disaster. With Palpatine controlling both sides, he could maximize chaos and suffering. Ben drags a hand down his face and feels decades older. “He could have—” Ben can’t even voice the worst of this thoughts.

“He had plans,” Bail says quietly. “Plans and schemes, each worse than the last. He wanted Anakin as his next apprentice. His writings were full of a vision of a galaxy brought beneath their heel. It was ugly, Ben, and I only saw the sanitized version. The best part?” Bail laughs, but it’s an ugly, jagged sound. “It was luck which saved us. Or, Anakin’s dick, depending on who you ask. He was supposed to rescue Palpatine, but he was off planet, marrying Padmé. The Council sent Qui-Gon Jinn instead.”

Ben keeps his face impassive. If Bail was Force sensitive, he may have detected a ripple at the mention of the man’s name. Or maybe he wouldn’t. Ben’s had over two decades to shield his reaction to this particular man.

“He was Dooku’s padawan,” Bail explains, because he doesn’t know Ben Lars has a connection to Jinn. “There was enough of a lingering bond between them for Qui-Gon to pick up on Dooku’s thoughts and realize what was happening. He didn’t ask questions or wait for orders. He rigged the ship to explode and then took his shuttle to a safe distance to watch. The official story is that when the ransom wasn’t met, Dooku assassinated the Chancellor but was too stupid to escape. Everyone’s too grateful to examine the details closely.

“Qui-Gon Jinn, unsung hero of the galaxy?” Ben asks.

Some of his bitterness must leak through, because Bail gives him a sympathetic look. “I apologize, I don’t normally linger on the Jedi, but in this case, I thought it prudent to give you some background. The clone troopers were commissioned by Dooku, as you told me. You still haven’t told me where you picked up that piece of information.”

Ben keeps his expression serene. “I work on the ground with refugees, Bail. I hear things no one else does. If they’re important, I make sure they make it to the right ears.” He promised Bail that he could keep Bail’s secrets, as he keeps his own. There are some things Ben hasn’t told even his most trusted friend.

“There were obviously questions as to why Dooku would lead the Separatists against an army he commissioned.” Bail fidgets with his sleeves. “It was Palpatine, of course. What better way for a Sith to seed hate and doubt than a deadlocked war? By pulling strings on both sides, he could have drawn the war out as long as he wanted.”

“Gods,” Ben breathes.

“It gets worse,” Bail says. His darker skin loses color as if he’s sick. “Palpatine had fail safes. One of them was a command chip installed in every trooper. They were never activated, but each man was coded to obey his orders with a simple phrase.” Bail holds up a hand before Ben can say anything. “We are removing them as quickly and safely as we can. And this brings me to why I’m here. There are millions of soldiers without a war to fight. Men who were created and trained for a single purpose and now lack that purpose.”

“And a galaxy which sees them as no more than sentient droids.” Ben leans back in his chair. He understands cloning a liver or heart or lung for medical procedures. But to clone entire sentients in order to have fodder for a war? No.

“With Palpatine’s direct influence gone and the relief of the war ending, Padmé, Mon Mothma, and I were able to finally push through the citizenship bill. It passed but we realized too late we’d been outmaneuvered.”

Ben raises his eyebrows. It isn’t often when Bail is caught with his metaphorical pants down.

“As independent citizens, the Senate can claim the troopers are responsible for their own wellbeing,” Bail explains.

“f*ck.” Trained for war, fed and house while in the army, they’ll now be adrift. No home planet, no family, nothing to ground them and support them.

“That about sums it up.” Bail’s expression is grim. “We managed to secure the war funds for the rest of the year as an emergency solution, but it’s only temporary. No planet wants an influx of troopers, because they’re a painful reminder of the war. And, understandably, the troopers don’t want to be split up. The refer to each other as brother. But we’re talking a population in the millions. No planet could take that number, even if they wanted to.”

“It’s a large population to settle,” Ben says, his mind already working the problem. “And there’s no home planet for them to claim, unless you’re giving them Kamino as reparation for this pile of bantha-sh*t.”

“Not Kamino,” Bail says. “But there is Hasiera. It was a Separatist supply planet. It’s unoccupied by other sentients. The Post-War Recovery Committee purchased it.”

Ben itches to grab one of the tumblers on the table and glug its contents. “Did you just stay you bought a planet?”

“The war budget was quite inflated.” For a moment, as Bail’s eyes dance in amusem*nt, he looks like his regular self. And then he sobers. “We have a planet and the funds to invest in it, but this would be the largest resettlement project in galactic history. We need an expert at the helm.”

Which brings Bail here, to the expert in refugee resettlement. It’s a huge undertaking, daunting in its complexity. Millions of men with combat training and possibly nothing else. Logistically, it will be a nightmare. Either the entire galaxy will watch to see if it fails, or they’ll turn their backs because they’re happier in their ignorance.

Well, that seals Ben’s decision. He knows this galaxy. Relief at the war ending will turn into moving on. There will be no parades or remembrance days for the clone troopers. They will not receive the care and respect they deserve from the galaxy.

If Ben can even be a small part in giving these men what they deserve, he will.

“I wanted to speak to you before I present our proposal to the AgriCorps,” Bail says. “There is no one I would rather at the helm of this project, but I won’t put forward your name without your permission.”

“I’ll do it,” Ben says. “I am the logical choice, and my superiors will be happy to bury me on Hasiera for the rest of my life. This kind of undertaking, it may not end for several lifetimes.”

“It will be a joint effort,” Bail says. “The Post-War Recovery Committee and the AgriCorps working together. I promised Padmé the finest wine Alderaan has to offer and a week of arguing with you to kick off negotiations.”

“Kinky,” Ben says. His smile returns and then fades again. “Bail, this project must succeed. And it must all be completely above-board. As soon as I accept this assignment, we’ll have to cease our extracurriculars.”

Bail lifts his eyebrows, either at Ben’s choice of word to refer to sex or because he doesn’t believe it’s necessary.

“There can be no accusations of favoritism,” Ben says. “There can be no hint of impropriety. This project will be obscenely expensive, and any number of planets will search for any reason to cut funding from the troopers and redistribute it to their own planets or pet projects. I will not be—I cannot be their excuse.”

“I understand,” Bail says. “I am disappointed, of course, but we knew it would end sometime.”

“My partners always complain I put work before them,” Ben says, flippant, as if Bail is a casual lover and not the longest lasting and most serious relationship he’s ever had. He will miss the sex, but he’s comforted knowing the friendship will remain.

Chapter 2

Chapter Text

After his meeting with Bail, Ben returns to his quarters, a small set of rooms, because he’s disliked by his superiors and because he’s almost never here long enough to use them. Everyone in the Service Corps is in high demand; healers, agriculturalists, teachers, and they’re all spread too thin.

As soon as he steps into his room, Boba appears from his own room. He eyes Ben hopefully. Ben smiles and obligingly produces the desserts he squirreled away during his meal with Bail. Boba’s eyes light up at the pastries. He eagerly snatches them and brings them over to the small table he and Ben eat at.

Boba is one of the war’s first refugees, made fatherless after the disaster on Geonosis. Like many who end up collateral damage during war, Boba was angry when Ben found him. He clutched his buir’s helmet in his hands and swore revenge on every Jedi in the galaxy. It’s been years since then. Boba’s anger still burns brightly, but he’s released his vendetta.

Boba accompanies Ben on all his assignments, and Ben teaches him everything he knows, from farming to blaster training. It isn’t a traditional Mandalorian upbringing, but Ben does the best he can. Boba is a teenager now, surly with a mop of black hair. He looks more child than almost-adult as he sucks chocolate off his fingers.

Ben’s heart squeezes tightly. The Force tells him this is a crossroads, but it gives him no indication of whether this is where he and Boba part ways. He has kept Boba a secret for the boy’s own protection. The AgriCorps never paid enough attention to Ben’s assistant to realize who he is. Ben has raised Boba, knowing one day he will watch Boba leave. He hopes this isn’t that moment. He isn’t ready for it.

“Was it a bad meeting?” Boba asks. His natural observational skills, combined with his learned vigilance, lead to a careful study of Ben’s countenance. Boba’s joy over the pastries fades as he narrows his eyes. “What happened?”

“Nothing bad happened,” Ben promises. “Bail came to give me a heads up on my next assignment.”

“You’re leaving me.” Boba’s voice is flat, as if he can convince himself he doesn’t care.

“I’m taking a new assignment,” Ben tells him carefully because each of them has landmines of hurts, and they need to be navigated with care. “As always, you are welcome, but not obligated, to join me.”

“Alderaan doesn’t need you.” Boba frowns as he tries to puzzle out where Ben is going. They were extensive in his education, covering different planets and types of governments, identifying the important people in the galaxy. It wasn’t as formal as a Temple education, but it was well-rounded.

Ben doubts Boba will guess so he says, “I’ll be the lead on the resettlement of the army.”

“The clones,” Boba says.

Boba’s feelings toward the men who share his genetic code are complicated, understandably so. Boba had Jango as his buir, not a drill instructor. But the troopers have had each other, and Boba’s only had Ben ever since Geonosis. When Ben first found Boba, he offered to find him troopers to settle with, and Boba refused. He didn’t want them. He didn’t want Ben either, but he was too young to be on his own.

“They’ve been abandoned now that the war is over,” Ben says.

“And you want to help them.” Boba rolls his eyes. “You’re the biggest softie in the galaxy. I’m coming with you, and I’m making sure they all know you’re mine first.”

Ben sighs. This is a lesson Ben has never succeeded in teaching Boba. “Possession is dangerous.”

Boba scoffs. And then he does something he hasn’t done in years. He settles himself on Ben’s lap, something he’s too big for now. He holds out the chocolate filled pastry, Ben’s favorite of the remaining sweets.

Ben accepts the offering and ruffles Boba’s hair. He’s glad he won’t have to part with Boba yet. He knows there’s a point in every sentient’s life where they need to leave their caregivers and forge their own path. It will happen. But not yet. And Boba will come and meet these men who share his genetic code. Ben hopes they’ll welcome Boba and call him brother. He deserves a big, sprawling family, something Ben can’t offer him.

#

Ben’s fingers itch to sink into the soil, to heft a hammer, to create, but there is much to do before they ever put their boots on the ground on Hasiera. There is planning, more planning, and then they go to Alderaan for even more planning.

Boba scowls at what he calls all talk and no action and then he hurriedly tries to make Ben swear he won’t get too much action in between meetings. As is his right as buir, Ben smirks and makes no promises. Ben’s days of teasing Boba are numbered so he does his best to fit as much good-natured ribbing into each day as he can.

Breha greets them in the hanger bay. She smiles warmly at Ben and kisses each of his cheeks. Her smiles are always edged with the knowledge of what Ben and her husband get up to when they have the time and inclination. He’s never bedded Breha, and she’s never watched, but he knows Bail tells her, in intimate detail, what happens during each encounter. He wonders if she knows there will be no more encounters.

“I don’t believe you’ve met Boba,” Ben says. He steps aside to wave Boba forward.

Breha’s expression freezes for the briefest of moments before she smiles at Boba. “Welcome to Alderaan. Any friend of Ben’s is a friend of ours.”

“We’re not friends, he’s my buir. It means he looks out for me.”

Breha endures the teenage scolding with dignity. “I apologize for the misunderstanding. Are you Boba Lars, then?”

“Boba Fett.” Boba juts his chin out, because, despite all of Ben’s lessons, Boba will never be a diplomat or even diplomatic. “I’m here to help Ben make a place for my brothers to live.”

Boba has swung between emotional extremes since Ben officially accepted the AgriCorps assignment. He is at turns eager to meet his brothers and dismissive of them. Ben isn’t sure how often he interacted with them on Kamino. For all he knows, today will be Boba’s first proper introduction to the troopers.

Breha hands him and Boba over to Lara, one of her attendants. Lara chats with Ben as she leads him to the conference room. Ben keeps two fingers on Boba’s sleeve, so he isn’t left behind as he stares at everything around them.

As Ben’s ward, Boba goes where he goes. It means his exposure to the galaxy hasn’t been the grandness of Alderaan. They see deserts and mountains, war-torn land and depressed people. Alderaan, with its light and laughter, is a new experience for Boba.

Lara brings them down several hallways and then enters the conference room. She announces, “Ben Lars and his companion,” before she steps back and ushers them through.

Ben strides in, Boba at his elbow, and the room falls silent. Bail, Padmé, and Mon Mothma are here representing the Republic. Ben and Boba are here to represent the AgriCorps. There are four troopers here representing their own interests.

Ben recognizes two of them from the news, Commander Cody and Captain Rex. He doesn’t know the other two.

There’s another dozen people in the room, people he recognizes but doesn’t know well. They’re all the top of their fields, whether it’s education, medicine, construction or project management.

“You do love an entrance,” Bail mutters, just loudly enough that Ben was meant to hear.

Ben flashes him a smile. “I am Ben Lars, the AgriCorps representative for this undertaking. With me is Boba Fett.”

Boba tucks himself against Ben’s side, even as he stares down Commander Cody, as if daring him to try and snatch Boba away.

The infamous commander’s expression softens, a contrast to the jagged scar on his face. “We wondered what happened to you. You landed safely?”

Boba nods, a sharp, jerky movement. “I chose him.”

The looks Ben receives from Commander Cody and Captain Rex promise a lengthy interrogation later. He inclines his head in their direction, an acknowledgement and permission. And then he greets the rest of the room.

Everyone receives a standard, similar introduction, even Bail, until he reaches Padmé. He offers her his most charming smile. “You look as radiant and beautiful as always, my dear. Though, I thought you were smarter. Your first impression on your mother-in-law was to send holos of your secret wedding? You’re lucky Shmi is a kind and forgiving woman.”

“You know Shmi Skywalker?” Bail asks.

He isn’t the only one in the room radiating confusion. Almost everyone is, except for Captain Rex who looks another compliment or insult away from tackling Ben.

And then Padmé gasps. Surprise and confusion rise and then give way to disbelief. “That idiot!”

Ben fails to smother his smile. “Now, now, is that any way to refer to your husband?” To answer the obvious question in the room, he says, “I do not know Shmi Skywalker, but I am acquainted with Shmi Lars.”

“Anakin told me his half-brother was a space farmer!” Padmé, without Anakin here to blame, glares at Ben.

“Technically, he is correct,” Ben says.

“You’re my general’s brother?” Captain Rex asks.

“Yes. We have never met.” It’s been deliberate on Ben’s part, in addition to the lack of information given to Anakin. It isn’t Anakin’s fault he doesn’t know anything about Ben. As far as Anakin knows, Ben is a simple farmer, somewhere in deep space, and that’s the way Ben wanted it. This assignment will, of course, change things. “I hope this will not be seen as a conflict of interest. Senator Amidala and I have a tenuous connection, through various marriages, but I would hate to see it interfere with this project.”

Ben gave up his relationship with Bail in order to be a part of this. He isn’t sure how to properly distance himself from Padmé, but he will do it if necessary.

“I see no issue,” Bail says. He looks to Mon Mothma.

One by one, the people seated at the table give their opinions. Fives and Echo, the two troopers Ben didn’t recognize, defer to Commander Cody and Captain Rex.

Orin, the lead agriculturist, doesn’t refuse Ben’s participation based on Anakin and Padmé’s marriage, but he does glower at Ben. “I still don’t understand why you’re here.” His metaphorical feathers are ruffled as if he thinks Ben is here to usurp his role. “Why do we need the AgriCorps involved in a private project?”

“We know each other well enough that we should be beyond introductions,” Ben says. The look Orin gives him suggests the fact that they know each other is the problem. Ah, well, Ben can’t be friends with everyone in the galaxy. “I am an AgriCorps Specialist. I am an expert in refugee resettlement and recovery. We are all here, because we are facing a humanitarian crisis, on a larger scale than any of us here have ever seen. Senator Organa brought in the best in both the private sector,” Ben gestures to the experts, “as well as the Service Corps.” Now, he gestures to himself and the other two Jedi at the table. “We have mind healers and body healers, those who know how to work the land and how to hunt on it. We have architects and masters of all trades. We are building a society from the ground up. It is an enormous undertaking, but if we work together, we are more than capable of rising to meet this challenge.”

Silence meets Ben’s impromptu speech and then Bail shakes his head. “I always thought you belonged in the Senate.”

“There’s no need for insults,” Ben says. He grins as he takes his seat and plants his arms on the table. “Where shall we begin?”

#

The days are long and full of conversations which often grow heated enough to be labeled debates, if not arguments. It doesn’t take long for Boba to grow restless. This isn’t an adventure like the ones he and Ben are used to. Ben offers a compromise. Boba is allowed to skip the morning sessions if he can find a suitable replacement for his time. So far, Boba has toured the gardens three times, visited a museum, and gone with Breha to a local school.

Boba returned from the school disgruntled and covered in blue paint. When he attends the afternoon sessions, he is attentive, but Ben provides him with puzzles to occupy his hands as he listens.

Still, even with these measures in place, it is a lot of inaction, and Boba isn’t the only one who suffers. Ben meditates each morning and evening, and he has daily exercise routines. It isn’t the same as being on the ground in a disaster zone. Perhaps his mind healer was right, and he has developed an adrenaline addiction.

With this downtime, he should resume his sessions with Healer Bisu, but he always finds an excuse and occupies himself with reports or studies or pondering average rainfall.

They have been on Alderaan for nearly a month and have made considerable progress when Commander Cody approaches Ben and Boba following an afternoon session. Captain Rex stands behind him to the right. Echo and Fives fall in behind them. They’re a unit, even here on Alderaan, removed from the front lines of the war.

“Gentleman,” Ben greets.

Rex snorts. “I don’t see any of those here.”

Cody gives his brother a sharp look and then asks, “Would Boba like to come to the rec center with us? We work out before late meal.”

Boba turns a pleading looking on Ben. “Can I go?”

“Of course,” Ben answers. Boba still hasn’t decided how he feels about having millions of brothers, or even about these four in particular. He has stayed close to Ben since they arrived on Alderaan. “May I accompany you?”

“We’ll return him in one piece,” Rex says. His shoulders stiffen as if he thinks Ben is insulting them by asking to come along.

“I can handle anything you throw at me.” Boba bristles with teenage pride.

“No offense—”

Boba cuts Rex off before he gets far. “Buir always says people do mean to offend when they start a sentence that way. This is the most peaceful planet we’ve been on. I can hold my own. Tell them, buir.”

“They’re men of action, Boba,” Ben says. “They don’t want my words. They want to see your proof. Shall we go to the rec center together?”

“Fine.” Boba’s eyebrows pull together, a dark, thick line. “A bet, then. Loser has to buy late meal.”

Rex holds his hand out and the two of them shake on it. They lead the way to the rec center. Cody hangs back until Fives and Echo pass them and then he and Ben bring up the rear. Ben isn’t surprised when Cody slows his pace, so the others put distance between them.

“You didn’t tell anyone he was with you,” Cody says. There’s no accusation in his tone, but Ben feels it in the Force.

“He was caught in the midst of a massacre, he witnessed Jango’s murder, and then he floated through space on his own. When I found him, he needed help. By the time he began to recover, the war was in full swing. I could not in good conscience send him to the front lines with any of his brothers. I thought the war would end before it did.”

“Jango kept him from us.” Cody clasps his hands behind his back. “We knew he was special, and we knew he was missing. There wasn’t much time to worry about anything beyond the immediate crisis during the war, but when we could spare the time, we worried for him.”

“I apologize,” Ben says. “It was never my intention to distress you or any of your brothers.” Ben hesitates, wary of overstepping. But he heard the pain in Cody’s words. We knew he was special. Ben knows what it’s like to be found wanting. It does not take much imagination to visualize what it must have been like for Cody and the others. There were millions of them, trained for war, while Boba was chosen for a different path.

Ben swallows thickly. He lays a hand on Cody’s arm. “Boba is special, but so are you. All of you. I’m sorry no one has ever told you.”

Cody grows uncomfortable. He pulls back, physically and also in the Force. Ben allows it and offers a sad smile. He keeps his hands to himself for the rest of the walk.

Boba and Rex are already down to their work out clothes when Ben and Cody arrive at the rec center. Boba’s forehead is creased with a familiar frown. He’s clearly unimpressed with whatever Rex is trying to make him do.

When Boba spots Ben, he lights up as if sensing a rescue. “Rex doesn’t approve of our warmup.”

“And?” Ben asks, curious.

“I like it.” Boba is mulish and growing more stubborn as if he recognizes Ben isn’t an ally.

“You do like it. And you know it well. But you have a new training partner, one willing to show you something new. Only a foolish warrior doesn’t learn all the weapons at his disposal.”

Boba groans but he saves his glare for Rex and whatever heretical warmup he peddles. Ben chuckles and finds an out of the way corner to make himself comfortable in. He’s surprised when Cody sits beside him instead of joining his brothers.

“You mean it.” Cody sounds curious and faintly surprised. “You want him to learn from us.”

“I know I have a limited view of the galaxy and an even more limited set of experiences. I want Boba to be exposed to as many things as possible so he can choose the ones he likes best.”

“You don’t intend him to be a farmer, then?”

Ben laughs and shakes his head. “No, not at all. He hates it. He doesn’t mind blood but dirt. I’m not even a farmer, not truly. It’s what I trained in, but I’m more in crisis management these days. Jack of all trades. I do many things decently, none exceptionally. It’s more of an advantage than many believe.”

“What about that?” Cody gestures to where Rex and Boba stretch.

“I’m quite flexible,” Ben says. He’s surprised and then pleased when a blush blooms across Cody’s cheeks. He noted the commander’s attractiveness, but he didn’t intend to act on the observation. If the attraction is mutual…he redirects before he makes an ill-advised choice. “I can do what’s necessary.”

It’s Cody’s turn to laugh. “A diplomat’s answer if I ever heard one. Senator Organa was right. You belong in the Senate.”

“In another life, perhaps. But I would grow frustrated talking all day if it led to no action. Perhaps, I make a smaller impact in this life, but I know I make a difference.”

“You’re about to improve the lives of millions of men. I wouldn’t say it’s a small impact.”

Ben smiles, warmed by the compliment. “As you say.”

“Hey! Lazy asshole!” Rex calls from a few feet away, and he grins as he gains Cody’s attention, and a rude gesture in response. “Stop chitchatting and come spar with me.”

“He’s a pushy son of a gundark,” Cody mutters. Even with his face set in a frown, he’s attractive. His expression softens as he turns to Ben. “Will you be alright on your own?”

“If you spar bare-chested, I’ll be more than alright,” Ben says. His words, the flirty tone, and his slow smile cause Cody’s blush to return in full force. Cody freezes for a moment before he recovers and leaves. Ben admires the view as he goes.

As the group of four shifts to accommodate a fifth, Ben settles into a light meditation. It was necessity which taught him how to clear his mind and calm his body while still maintaining vigilance. Being a single parent means he has almost no time to himself.

As Boba’s grown, Ben’s introduced meditation as a bonding activity, but Ben hasn’t had a deep, multi-hour session in over a decade now. He doesn’t have the luxury of one now, either. But he has enough peace to filter through the day’s emotions. He deals with those which need to be dealt with and releases the excess into the Force.

He resolves, despite his enjoyment, to flirt less with Commander Cody. The man is very attractive and Ben would consider a day successful if he could make him blush at least twice, but it isn’t smart.

Ben’s never had a long-term relationship and a fun dalliance with Cody is ill-advised. If something were to happen, one of them would have to leave and given that Hasiera will be Cody’s home, it would be Ben who had to pack his bags. Ben is too invested, professionally and personally, in the resettlement to risk it for a tumble in the sheets.

He allows himself one final, wistful look at Cody’s back, the way his muscles flex and ripple beneath his tight black shirt, before Ben releases his lust and admiration to the Force. He idly scrawls on his pad, thoughts which drift through his head half-formed, things to ponder deeper once Boba is in bed tonight. The rest of his attention is on the scene before him.

Boba tussles with Fives and then Echo. Cody steps in and offers suggestions and corrections to all three of them as if being an instructor is a part of him he’ll never leave behind. Rex observes as well, but it’s with the sharp gaze of someone evaluating an opponent.

Ben has the feeling that Boba won’t last long in his spar. It will be good for him, once he recovers from his bruised pride. There is always more to learn. Rex will be a good teacher, even if he’ll be more humbling than Cody would be.

Once Cody declares everyone properly limber, Boba and Rex pair up. Boba is wriggly, and he has a number of evasive maneuvers up his sleeve. The fight isn’t as quick as it could have been, but Rex has spent his life training for and then fighting in a galactic war. He ends the spar with a feint Boba falls for and then Rex sweeps Boba’s feet out from underneath him and pins him to the mats.

“Aww,” Boba whines.

“Not too bad ankle biter,” Rex says. And then he smirks. “I look forward to dinner.”

“Buir, come avenge me,” Boba pleads.

Ben only laughs. “Avenge yourself. I’m sure if you ask nicely, Rex will teach you those moves. In time, you’ll learn to hold your own against him.” Ben checks his chrono as Boba whines some more. “Is three hours enough time? Or I should I make the reservation for four hours from now?”

“Reservation?” Rex glances at Boba as if evaluating whether a child has the funds for a fancy dinner on Alderaan.

“Boba and I are family,” Ben answers. “His debt is mine.”

Boba groans. He rolls onto his stomach and then pushes himself to his knees. “Are you going to make me help with dirt again?”

Ben’s cheerful smile grows as Boba’s shoulders slump in resignation. “I have hundreds of soil samples which need to be analyzed. Two sets of hands will make the work go by faster. And this is important work. The soil composition will help us determine the planting schedule and ideal crop rotations. This is how we’ll eat once we’re on Hasiera.”

“Crop rotations?” Fives asks.

“Continue your sparring,” Ben answers. “I’ll answer your questions over late meal.”

Chapter 3

Chapter Text

The restaurant Ben chose isn’t the kind where the patrons are expected to dress to the nines and know how to use fifteen different pieces of silverware. Reservations are needed because of its popularity. It’s tucked off the main streets, but it’s always crowded. Even now, an hour after most people dine, the tables are all full and there’s a line out the door.

The four troopers are all dressed in crisp black slacks, but they each chose different shirts. Fives is in a riotous orange shirt with swirls of pink, yellow, and light purple. Echo, next to him, is more sedate in a simple green top. Cody chose to dress in all black. Despite the color, he stands out. Or maybe that’s Ben’s lingering crush.

“Crop rotations?” Fives asks eagerly once they’re seated.

Ben hasn’t had an attentive audience in years. His fellow AgriCorps workers know the basics, and Boba doesn’t care. Ben can’t help but lean forward as he answers. “Plants draw nutrients from the soil as they grow. What they take is replaced by something different. If you plant the same crop in the same field, year after year, the yield will decrease, and you’ll deplete the soil. But plants don’t have the same requirements. By rotating crops, you can keep the soil healthy, give it time to replenish what’s been lost so in a few cycles, you can return to your original crop.”

“It’s like moderating hunting,” Cody says.

“Exactly,” Ben says.

“How did you become a farmer?” Echo asks.

Ben smiles to cover the familiar ache which accompanies the question. It’s been long enough that his pain never shows, on his face or in the Force, but he’s never been able to completely excise it. “I could not stay where I was, and the AgriCorps offered a much-needed opportunity. I was quite young when I joined. And, like any new recruit, I was assigned learning tasks as well as those no one else wanted to do. As I aged, I began to branch out. As you know, my skillset extends beyond agriculture, but it’s where everything began.”

“You were a Jedi once.” Five’s curiosity is genuine, but it doesn’t stop a fresh lance of pain from cutting at Ben. “That’s what General Skywalker said. That the Corps workers—“ Fives hesitates but it’s too late.

Ben’s lips stretch into an unfamiliar smile, crueler than he usually favors. “That they’re Temple rejects?” His smile grows, even as Fives shifts uncomfortably as if he wishes he could disappear from view. “Your general was partially correct. I am still a Jedi. It’s a common misconception, obviously, even amongst the Jedi ourselves. The knights are only one branch of the Order. But yes, I was brought to the temple on Coruscant as a child, and I was found wanting, and I’ve pursued a life of science and rebirth rather than the glory of knighthood.”

Fives hangs his head, shame and regret pouring off him. It’s nearly suffocating, and Ben doesn’t want him to hurt. Nor does he want Cody or Rex to follow through on the punishment their hard gazes promise. “None of this was your doing,” Ben says. “You asked a reasonable question and yes, it brought up memories of my past, but I face those memories half a dozen times a day regardless. As I’m sure you do as well.”

Echo fidgets with his prosthetic and looks between his three brothers as if determining how much interference he’ll have to run.

“I’m sorry,” Fives says.

“As I said, none of this was your doing. There is no need to apologize.” Ben projects as much calm and reassurance as he dares. He doesn’t want to flood and overrun Fives’s mind, but he does want to put him, and the other three troopers, at ease. “Besides, I’m sure you’ve heard your general, or another, say the Force works in mysterious ways. There are days I wish I had been a knight, and there are countless moments where I’m still pained by the early rejection, but I can’t regret it too much, because I’ve landed in a good place. I’ve helped those who needed help, and that is at the core of a Jedi’s life.”

“Oh.” Fives’s emotional landscape levels as he contemplates what Ben says.

It’s Cody’s emotions which spike sharply. First, fury which is smoothed into a simmering anger but not before Ben picks up on all of it. “The Jedi shouldn’t shame and degrade their own the way they do,” Cody finally says.

The muted shock from Rex and open shock from Fives and Echo reveal the abnormality or perhaps daring of Cody’s opinion.

Cody clenches his jaw and then his fists, clearly uncomfortable, but he forges on. “My brothers and I, we were created for this war. Those who didn’t measure up were decommissioned.” Another strong surge in the Force. Ben’s stomach churns with the implications, but Cody continues. “Either we fit our intended purpose, or we were a waste. Which was wrong. We are all people. The Jedi have built into their system different avenues for different skillsets and personalities and yet they don’t see it as a gift.”

“No,” Ben agrees. “They do not.” He’s humbled and uncomfortable with Cody’s sympathy. He wants to tell the man to direct it at someone more deserving, like all the brothers hanging in limbo right now. “I do not know what my life would have held if I had become a Jedi knight. But I like to believe I have done good as a Corps worker, and there is still much more good to be done. Hasiera’s settlement, for example.”

It’s a clumsy, obvious transition, but they aren’t a table full of diplomats. They’re a table full of men eager for a conversation change, and they leap on it gratefully.

“What if I don’t want to be a farmer?” Boba grumbles.

It’s a familiar refrain between them, elevated to teasing now rather than a true complaint. Ben smiles, summoning enough cheer for it to be genuine. “There will be plenty of work to be done. You can raise barns, work in a textile factory, throw pottery.”

“Be a part of the hunting squad?”

“In the beginning, there will be needs we have to fill but once we begin to find an equilibrium people can go where they want. And, of course, you are nearing your age of majority. Your life is independent of mine. There is an entire galaxy of choices ahead of you.”

“I want to be a bounty hunter like Jango was.” This is another familiar discussion. Boba glances at the troopers to gauge their reactions, because he knows Ben’s quite well at this point.

“We’ll need to put together a training regimen,” Rex says, rolling smoothly with the desire.

Fives lights up, his earlier guilt dissipating. “Jetpacks?”

Ben groans at the thought of Boba and a few overexcited troopers learning jetpacks in the rec center. At least there was ceiling and so a limited distance they could fall. It’ll be worse once they train outside and decide to see how high they can go. He’ll have to brush up on his medical training. “Enjoy yourselves, but you are to follow all training and safety protocol.” Because he can see Rex and Cody exchange a smirk, he feels no guilt in adding, “Captain Rex, of course, is in charge.”

“What?” Boba whines.

“What?” Rex asks flatly.

Cody just tips his head back and laughs.

“You have leadership experience,” Ben says, treating Rex’s question as if it was a serious inquiry and not a complaint. “You are clearly someone Fives and Echo look up to. And, if you can corral a company of troopers, surely you can handle Boba.”

Boba narrows his eyes. “I think you just insulted me.”

“If you aren’t sure, we should resume our etiquette training.” Ben grins, pleased with the chaos he’s sowed. He lifts his glass of wine, a light fruity pink, and sighs happily before he sips it.

“Will you learn?” Rex asks.

“No, thank you,” Ben answers politely as Boba snigg*rs.

Pleased to have a chance at retribution, Boba adds, “He hates to fly, even in shuttles. A jetpack would be even worse.”

“I prefer to have my feet firmly on the ground,” Ben says primly.

Boba shoots him a look saying he’s full of sh*t. They’ve sparred enough for Boba to know Ben’s penchant for acrobatics. But flips and turns, some Force-assist leaps, those are all very different than trusting his wellbeing to an unpredictable piece of technology.

Rex shakes his head. “The faster, the better. Though I suppose I wouldn’t have lasted long with General Skywalker if I couldn’t handle speed or inventive flying.”

Rex’s glance at Ben, gauging his reaction to the name, is painfully obvious. Ben smiles and shakes his head. “You can talk about your general. I know of Anakin, of course. Everyone does, he’s been all across the holonet. The Hero Without Fear. It’s quite catchy, isn’t it?”

“You’re brothers but you’ve never met?” Echo’s understandably curious. While it’s doubtful he’s met all his brothers, he’s no doubt made the effort to meet as many as he can.

Ben’s relationship with Anakin is complicated for all that they don’t have one. “We were both firmly on our life tracks when our parents met. Our paths have never crossed.” Ben left Tatooine for the Corps before his father met Shmi. And the few times he’s visited home, Anakin has been away on Jedi business.

Ben knows quite a bit about him, certainly more than Anakin knows about Ben. He knows Anakin is a prodigy. He knows his power was like a beacon, calling Jedi and Sith alike to Tatooine. It was Qui-Gon Jinn, Ben’s former master who found Anakin and fought with the Council in order to teach him. The comparisons between them are too painful for Ben to examine closely. Obi-Wan had been desperate for a teacher, begged, and then had to be willing to sacrifice his life in order to gain Jinn’s notice. Anakin called to him through the Force and then Jinn fought for him.

With a deep breath, Ben releases his feelings into the Force. Despite being genuinely pleased with where his life has led him, there are still old hurts and regrets. At least he no longer believes the fault was with him. His years in the Corps have shown he is a capable, talented, even brilliant man with the ability to reach and help thousands of sentients. That Jinn couldn’t recognize it, that he abandoned Obi-Wan at the first conflict, that is not because of a fault with Obi-Wan, or with Ben.

Still.

“The war is over now,” Fives says hesitantly.

“And still our lives continue to diverge.” Ben offers a smile he doesn’t quite feel and is glad none of the troopers know him well enough to recognize the falseness. “He will continue to be a Jedi knight, and he may split his time with his new wife and growing family, but I will continue to be a space farmer. I understand the importance of family to you, but it’s different for me. I’ve chosen my family.” The smile he turns on Boba is warm and genuine and earns him an answering one in return. “Anakin and I are brothers by choices made by our parents. There is no need for us to connect.”

Fives opens his mouth to say more, but Cody speaks over him. “When do you think we’ll leave for Hasiera?”

It’s another abrupt conversation shift, and Fives ducks his head, chastised. Ben pretends not to notice. “Hopefully not for several more months.” At the startled expressions of those around the table, he chuckles softly. “Normally, I drop into a crisis zone and try to manage from a position of weakness. But we’ve been given the opportunity to prepare. I cannot tell you how valuable it is. If we could budget and order materials and begin construction and have a headquarters before we enter stage two, it would be ideal.”

The troopers exchange looks, and the air is heavy with what they don’t say out loud. Ben can’t pluck the words from the air, but he does sense their unease and the silent struggle as they debate how much to say.

“What is it?” he asks. Even though he knows he’d get an answer by leaning on Fives, he directs his question to Cody, acknowledging him both as the leader of the small group and as a sign of respect. If Cody chooses not to answer, Ben will be patient.

Cody hesitates but a slight nod from Rex convinces him to answer. “We have no planet, no one who has claimed us as their own. Our brothers are scattered on battle cruisers across the galaxy, living in their war quarters and eating rations, trying not to tax the generosity of what friends we do have while we come up with a solution.”

Anger swells up, hard and fast, and Ben opens a channel to release it into the Force, but it’s strong enough to raise eyebrows from those at the table. He ducks his head. “Apologies. While I’ve learned to master my response to my feelings, I often cannot control my initial reactions. I am sorry for the situation you’re in, and I am sorry we have not been treating it with the urgency it deserves. I’ll ask about your brothers’ current status in tomorrow’s meeting and once they’ve told me what you just have, I’ll argue to speed things up. I won’t get you in trouble.”

“I don’t care if they know your information came from me.” Cody’s gaze is hard, and his shoulders are set, unmoving like the canyon cliffs on Tatooine. Ben sees a glimpse of the formidable commander, the man who brought home as many of his troops as he could. Ben’s traitorous heart skips a beat, and he has the unwelcome realization that Cody is much more than physically attractive.

Still a bad idea, he reminds himself.

#

Once Ben has the confession that the troops are stuck in limbo while Ben and the other project leads debate policy and procedure in the heart of the Republic, it’s easy to turn their theoretical discussions into something more concrete. There is a team of them nominated to stay on Alderaan and continue the discussions, but Ben is part of the team which is going to begin settling Hasiera.

The four troopers and Boba are also part of his team. They’ll call into the wrap-up meetings each week, to give their opinion on discussions and decisions, but they’ll be working too much to be able to attend all of them.

Boba, of course, is thrilled to leave Alderaan behind. He calms somewhat when Ben reminds him this isn’t a vacation. When they land on Hasiera, they will work and work hard. There will be little time for friendly sparring and certainly no time for jetpack training for quite a while.

The troopers share in Boba’s excitement. And, if he’s honest, Ben is also looking forward to the change. He wants to roll up his sleeves and put all this theories and ideas into practice. He wants to build the bunkhouses and see them filled. He wants to sow their fields and watch the crops bloom.

He takes the time they’re traveling to catch-up on his meditations and attend as many virtual meetings as he can. Usually, one of the troopers drifts in to join him but never more than two at a time. He isn’t sure what they spend their time doing, but the pilots don’t have any noise complaints and no one breaks anything.

When they enter orbit, Ben finds himself drawn to the co*ckpit. He frowns at the coordinates the pilot steers them toward. The Force tells him to go elsewhere. He resists at first, curious, and the gentle nudge becomes much more insistent.

“Could you alter our course?” Ben asks. He gives the new coordinates and the Force settles around him, pleased.

He isn’t surprised when the four troopers, Boba trailing behind them, come to investigate.

“Is something wrong?” Cody asks.

“I want to look at a different settlement possibility,” Ben says. “If you don’t mind a half-day or full day’s delay, I’d like to scout a new area and see if it’s a better fit.”

“Our original point had the space for settlement and significant expansion,” Cody says, because he’s memorized their plans. “And it was in easy distance of diverse terrain. You called it near perfect.”

“And it will certainly be the home to a major city even if it is not our landing point. I—” Ben glances at the pilot and then decides they’ve almost finished their journey. If he’s spooked by a Jedi, he won’t have to put up with Ben for much longer. “The Force has suggested I look at a new area. It would be remiss of me not to scout and see what it wanted me to notice.

The pilot is, in fact, uneasy at Ben’s casual mention of the Force. Ben smiles sadly and then retreats out of the co*ckpit so as not to disturb him further.

Boba follows him back to the quarters they share. He sits next to Ben on the bottom bunk. “A bad feeling?” he asks, nervous, because he’s learned quite well that Ben has the ability to predict danger.

“Neither bad nor good. The Force wanted to be heard, and I am listening. It’ll be a good mystery at any rate.”

#

Their scouting party looks more like a war party. It’s the first time Ben has seen the troopers in full armor and weaponry. Looking at them, he understands why Mandalorians were once feared across the galaxy. Covered from scalp to toe, with three visible weapons and several more hidden, they’re intimidating. And, as they fan out to cover the most ground, they’re competent and efficient.

Ben tells himself it’s this second part that has his mouth dry and not that he’s attracted to the possibility of danger. Ben and Boba also dress in preparation for a fight. Boba’s armor isn’t as nice as the troopers’, but it serves its purpose. Boba is still growing which is why Ben hasn’t presented him with his full set of beskar’gam.

Well, that and the beskar’gam once belonged to Jango. Ben had struggled with the decision to bury Jango Fett with his armor or to place it in storage until Boba was old enough to wear it. Soon, Boba will finish his last growth spurt, and Ben will arrange for Jango’s armor to be fitted to Boba.

Ben’s own armor is an eclectic mix. He saw Rex’s pained expression at the mishmash. But Ben’s needs prioritize agility and storage, not defense. His protection isn’t suited for the front lines of a war, but it’s been many years since that was his role.

Cody’s gaze, of course, was drawn to the lightsaber on Ben’s belt. Normally, Ben keeps it hidden away, in a boot or in his sleeve. But as they walk toward the unknown, he makes sure to keep it easily accessible.

“You have a lightsaber.” It’s Fives who breaks the silence, once they’re a klik from their landing site.

“I’m a Jedi,” Ben reminds him.

“But not a knight.”

“I find myself in warzones more than most Jedi knights. Well,” Ben’s smile grows tight. “I used to. Now, I believe the knights have seen as much of war as I have. I doubt I am a match for the generals you’re used to working with, but I know how to use my lightsaber. It has saved my life more than once.”

Fives is quiet for a moment as he contemplates this. “We’ve never seen you train with it.”

“We’ve never seen him train,” Cody points out, tone dry even through the helmet modulator.

“You haven’t,” Ben agrees. He was something of a prodigy at twelve. Of course, his enthusiasm for ‘saber work became a flaw. He was too aggressive, too violent, and after his encounter with Bruck, the one which led to his early expulsion, he was seen as tainted by the dark side.

He was proficient when Jinn trained him. He regretted not keeping up his training on Melida/Daan, and then he didn’t dare even ignite his saber when he was on Tatooine. It wasn’t until the AgriCorps before he allowed himself to practice again. He’s perfected his regimen over the years. It isn’t what one would see in the salles of the Temple, but, as he keeps saying, he isn’t a knight.

“It’s boring,” Boba says. “He meditates while he does it.”

“I’m maximizing efficiency,” Ben says primly, even as surprise pings in the Force, four bright dots.

“General Jinn says battle meditation is one of the most difficult disciplines to master,” Cody says.

“Far be it from me to correct your general, but if it was quite so difficult, I doubt I’d be able to do it.” Ben folds his hands behind his back. “As with many things, different people are suited to different styles. Perhaps battle meditation is difficult for General Jinn. For me, it was a necessity. If I could not find calm amidst danger and adrenaline spikes, I would not have lasted long in my role in refugee work.”

“I’d like to see it, if you aren’t opposed,” Cody ventures. His tone is hesitant, but there’s steel in his mind, a kind of determination which indicates he won’t let this go easily.

“Very well.” Ben grins as Boba groans. “Once we establish headquarters and a routine, you’re welcome to join Boba and me for our morning training. If it’s excitement you’re looking for, heed Boba’s warning and look elsewhere. We train with staves, not ‘sabers, and it lacks the energy I’m sure you’re accustomed to seeing.”

“It’s important for a soldier to have a wide range of abilities,” Cody says neutrally.

Ben’s smile grows and he turns them toward the mountain range. He’s curious what the Force wants him to find here.

Fives and Echo share stories about planets they visited with similar terrain. Their stories often end with droid ambushes or full-frontal assaults of Separatist bases. Boba eagerly soaks in every story and encounter. Rex occasionally chimes in to add color to a battle or context to orders, but Cody doesn’t join in.

As they reach the base of the mountains, Ben finds that Cody’s drifted to his side. There’s still enough space between them for them to quickly draw weapons without risk of injuring each other. Ben suspects his own instincts are at much at play here as Cody’s.

“Hmm,” Ben says at the base of the mountain. He closes his eyes and draws a deep breath. Around him, the world shifts and shimmers and then a clear path appears in his mind. It’s like the gentle beckoning of a friend or perhaps a lover.

He opens his eyes and starts forward.

“Jedi,” Fives mutters, almost too quietly for Ben to pick up.

Ben’s worked up a pleasant burn in his muscles when Rex holds a hand up. They all pause, even Ben and Boba who aren’t used to working with the troopers. Ben immediately casts his senses out, curious what danger Rex detects.

“Heat readings are strong over there.” Rex speaks quietly and gestures to the left.

“I don’t sense any other sentients,” Ben says. An interesting puzzle. He changes directions. “We should investigate.”

“Civilians in the middle,” Cody says in a tone which brooks no argument.

Ben bristles but he holds his tongue. He places a hand on Boba’s shoulder, cautioning him to do the same. They aren’t civilians, but they aren’t trained soldiers either. He’s seen pride lead to mistakes and death too many times to fall into the same trap.

The troopers form a diamond around them, Rex in the lead, Echo and Fives on the wings, and Cody bringing up the rear. None of them speak, all focused on their senses and their surroundings as they move forward. They discover a cave entrance and, despite the hesitation Ben feels from the others, Rex leads them inside.

He’s certain the troopers are communicating via their helmets. He can feel the currents of communication even if he can’t tap into it. He dislikes being managed quite so transparently. Still, he takes a deep breath and resigns himself as gracefully as he can to their lead.

“It’s—” Rex hesitates as if he isn’t sure what to say.

Ben steps around him and grins at the sight before them. The narrow cave has opened into an enormous room. A pool of water lays before them, steam curling from its surface.

“A natural hot spring,” Ben says. “This is quite the unexpected gift.” The Force nudges him, as if to say there is more waiting for him to discover. “It will be a welcome place to relax sore muscles after a hard day’s labor. Once more people arrive, we should scout the whole mountain range and see if there are other caverns like this. But there is plenty of space here for our initial party.”

He sighs at the mere thought of soaking in the hot water. If they weren’t on a mission today, he would slide into the welcoming heat now. Instead, he casts a lingering look and then starts back out of the cave.

“There is something else the Force wants me to see.” Only, he can’t quite see it. The Force is insistent now, as if it’s worried he’ll grow distracted. There is a path, clear in his head, but when he looks around, the images overlay and give him a headache. He takes the hint and closes his eyes.

“No,” Cody says flatly as Ben takes his first step, guided by the image in his mind.

“The Force guides me,” Ben says. He takes his next step and finds a bit of loose rock. He wobbles but doesn’t fall.

A moment later, Cody’s strong grip steadies him. They progress slower now, with Ben and Cody leading the way. More than once, Cody has to direct him around a boulder or through a narrow passage. The more they progress, the louder the Force is. It’s practically jumping up and down, excited to show him something, and it’s a relief when Cody ushers them into a new set of caves.

The Force quiets as if it’s holding its breath in anticipation. Whatever it wants Ben to find, he’s close. He shakes off Cody’s grip and presses forward, ignoring their calls to be cautious. He doesn’t have night vision, but the Force guides him through the dark until the tunnel opens into a large, brightly lit cavern.

“How in the hells,” Rex begins.

There’s no natural light, no opening to the sky, but the cavern glows like a strong fire. There’s a small waterfall which flows from up high into a small pool. This water isn’t heated, but it’s something even better. Ben draws in a deep breath and the Force fills him, cleanses him, eases away all his doubt and worries, his aches and pains. It’s like drinking the perfect cup of tea. He’s alert and aware afterward, without the rapid heartbeat and shaking hands caf leaves him with.

“It’s a Wellspring,” he whispers, reverent because he knows the others won’t understand. “It’s as close as we can be to the Force.” He reaches a hand toward the waterfall and then pulls it back. This changes everything.” He turns to the troopers and Boba. “We need to move our initial build site.”

“Because you want to be near this?” Rex’s tone is skeptical and his confusion hangs thickly between them before a current of air brushes it away.

“This is a place of peace and serenity,” Ben says. “It’s as close to a holy site as Jedi have. It’s a source of strength and power, even if it can’t power an ion cannon or a spaceship. It powers people. It’s calming and rejuvenating, and the stronger one’s connection to the Force, the stronger its impact.” Ben hesitates. “If the Temple knew this was here, this planet never would have been kept in trust for resettlement.”

“You want to keep this a secret from the Jedi Order?” Cody’s voice is flat, thanks to the modulator, but Ben can still hear his suspicion.

“No,” Ben answers, because it’s true and important to establish as soon as possible. “I don’t want to broadcast our discovery, but we can bury it in reports the galaxy at large won’t read. And you can tell your Jedi superiors as you deem necessary. It will certainly be a draw as we continue to recruit professionals. Most Force sensitives will go their entire lives without encountering one of these.”

Ben’s reluctant to leave, but he knows he can’t spend the rest of his life basking in the calm of the Wellspring. He will certainly find his way here once a day for meditation, however. It would be foolish to have such a resource at their disposal and not take advantage.

“There will, I’m sure, be a bit of a squabble over the discovery, but Senator Organa was very thorough in his paperwork. This planet is yours. The Jedi Order cannot claim it, or the Wellspring, for themselves. You may, of course, work out some kind of lease or rental. This could be the ideal place for a retreat, between the Wellspring and the hot springs and whatever other amenities the planet has to offer. That will be up to you and the planetary council.”

“Planetary council?” Rex echoes.

“Or whatever form of government you choose,” Ben says. “I suppose you are Mandalorian. I would caution against a Mand’alor. Both because it would make duch*ess Satine uneasy, and I would be quite cross if any of you challenged Boba for Jango’s title.”

Silence meets Ben’s latest statement. They wind their way out of the cave and Ben, at least, blinks against the sudden sunlight once they emerge.

“We don’t want a sole ruler,” Cody finally says. “And while we all share Jango Fett’s genetics, culturally we’re not Mandalorian.”

“Mmm.” Ben considers how much to say. “Culture is determined by people. To be Mandalorian has meant many different things over the centuries. There was recently a war over this. duch*ess Satine and her faction were victorious and now spread their version. But you aren’t beholden to it. You aren’t even beholden to the teachings Jango adhered to. You and your brothers, you are all Mandalorian, which means the lifestyle you choose is Mandalorian.”

They’re quiet as they make their way down the mountain. It isn’t until they’ve reached the grass again that Cody speaks. “One of the central tenets, nobody cares who your father was, only the father you will be. The galaxy is extremely preoccupied with who our father was.”

“He made you. My interpretation, for what it’s worth, is not a rejection of history and origin. Who we were influences who we are. But it doesn’t determine it. We control our destiny in that sense. And, who your father was, it’s outside of your control. The father, the man, the person you will be, that is the weight and responsibility and privilege you have. Mandalorian culture places a heavy importance on family, but chosen family. And in that way, you are all true Mandalorians. You’ve chosen each other. You chose the galaxy, to put yourself on the front lines and protect all of us even when we didn’t deserve it.”

All four troopers have come to a halt. Even with the helmets on, Ben can sense them staring at him. Fives and Echo’s mouths hang open. Boba too, is wide-eyed. Perhaps Ben hasn’t been as open and honest with Boba about his theories as he should have been. “The Jedi Order warns against attachment.” If he’s going to surprise them, he might as well jump straight into heresy. “Which is the antithesis of Mandalorian culture. And, if I’m being honest, quite backward. Attachment is what connects us to the galaxy and the beings in it. Attachment gives us purpose and strength. Attachment brings us the joys of family.”

Ben looks over at Boba, and he can’t help the tears which well in his eyes. He has been many things in his lifetime, but a good Jedi was never one of them. Being a good man, a good guardian, he is happy to call himself both of those.

“No wonder the Jedi sent you away,” Echo says, breaking the silence.

Ben’s shocked at first, and then he tips his head back and laughs.

Chapter 4

Chapter Text

There’s a bit of grumbling over the new alpha site, but as far as Ben can tell it’s a resistance to change and not grounded in any legitimate complaints. As it is, this is the best time to make changes, because they haven’t laid any foundation, literally or metaphorically.

It takes ten days for them to set up the alpha site. It’s barebones, and it’s doubtful any of the structures will last beyond the first year, but it’s enough to get them started. More importantly, it’s enough for them to bring in the first wave of settlers. It’s a mix of professionals and troopers, and they immediately set to work.

It’s hard, physical labor, which leaves even the most seasoned troopers exhausted at the end of each day. Ben manages to meditate each morning and evening, but he hasn’t made it to the hot springs yet. It’s a shame, because his muscles are desperate for a long soak.

He hasn’t seen much of anyone except Boba and that’s only because they share quarters. Well, he sees plenty of people, but he doesn’t speak with them much. There are buildings to raise, crops to plant, animals to tend to. His days are filled from the moment he opens his eyes to the moment he closes them again.

He’s forgotten how much he enjoys the chaos and go-go-go of initial settlement. There’s no time for thought, for doubt, for small talk or the exhausting pretense of being a functional being. There’s simply work.

Ben sits cross-legged in the rec center, his eyes closed, but his mind aware of Boba’s training, as he meditates. He’s cut even his battle meditation from his routine, his body too exhausted to add more physical training. When things settle, he’ll return to the exercise.

He’s aware of others entering the room. All of the troopers have routines they adhere to. Some are more intense, like Rex who trains as if war may break out again at any moment. Some are more sedate, like Boil and Waxer who want the companionship of a spar without the danger of a fight. There are those who want the familiarity of a routine and others who want the excuse to touch as they grapple but don’t know how to ask for a hug.

The mind healers are working on it. Every trooper, as part of their settlement, is required to attend a session with the mind healers once every five-day. Ben and Bail identified the top trauma specialists in the galaxy and then recruited as many of them as they could. Bail suggested Ben might benefit from routine sessions as well, but Ben brushed him off. His has the Force to channel and direct his feelings into, whether they’re unwanted or simply too much.

A familiar Force presence, Echo, drifts closer. He doesn’t sit at Ben’s side, the way he sometimes does as if he can absorb Ben’s calm through proximity. He hovers, agitated, his hand resting where a blaster would if they were in full war armor.

The hairs on the back of Ben’s neck rise, reacting to the possible threat.

“I’m very good with computers,” Echo says. Ben doesn’t understand the opening. He waits, patiently, for more context. “There is no record of Ben Lars at the Coruscant Temple.”

Ah. It was a slip of the tongue which admitted to his familiarity with Coruscant. It’s too late to fix the mistake. At least Echo didn’t call for a Councilor to come and confirm Ben’s identity. The suspicion hurts, but he’s also glad for Echo’s observational skills and instincts.

“I went by a different name, then.” Ben opens his eyes. He doesn’t need to in order to give Echo his full attention, but he knows it’s a visual cue, and one Echo responds to, relaxing slightly as his concern is acknowledged and given full consideration. “You will find no record of Ben Lars in the Temple database. I would ask, out of a request for my privacy, you don’t dig further, but I understand if you must. And I will endeavor to answer your questions if you have them. But it was not a happy time in my life, and there are many regrets and old scars buried there.”

Echo sits down next to Ben and pulls his knees up to his chest so he can loop his arms around them. “They gave us designations when we were decanted. We chose our names. You say you are Ben Lars, then to us you are Ben Lars.” Echo’s face is still troubled. “My war instincts tell me secrets are dangerous and a lack of information could get us killed. Healer Maradon says it’s a natural reaction to spending so long in a war. But knowing the cause doesn’t erase the feeling.”

“I understand.” Hypervigilance has saved Ben’s life on more than one occasion. It has also almost cost him it when sleep deprivation and paranoia led to misunderstandings. “If you have questions, you can ask but, as I said, I may or may not answer them.”

“You don’t owe me your life’s history, even if it would ease my doubts.” Echo’s frown remains. “We were made to fight for the Jedi and the Republic. We were created to be selfless, but war made us selfish. We prioritized our lives and our brothers’ lives. And in war, everything was high stakes and high costs. Outside of the war…” He drops his chin to his knees. “I want to hack and splice or stick Cody on you until I have every answer I want. But it’s wrong. You deserve your privacy. Why should my wellbeing be prioritized over yours?”

Ben’s smile is sad as he squeezes Echo’s shoulder. “Welcome to the difficult questions that come with being a sentient being.”

“Healer Maradon said life is a long answer to that question.” He’s clearly grumpy about the non-answer, and it’s enough to coax a light chuckle from Ben.

“Healer Maradon is correct. And the answer is always in flux. Some days I am more selfish than selfless. Sometimes, it’s the right choice for the situation. Sometimes, it isn’t. We are constantly trying to find the right balance.”

“Jedi and their balance,” Echo mutters, but there’s a hint of a smile in his tone.

“Do you want to see Jedi balance?” Ben, finding a spark of energy, jumps to his feet. The rec center is a multi-purpose building. The room they’re currently in has an acrobatics course in addition to the padded floor designed for sparring. It means there’s a long rope stretched across the top of the ceiling. It’s a climbing rope, meant to hang down, but since it’s tucked out of the way, it’s mostly horizontal.

Ben uses the ledges built into the walls and a bit of Force-assisted jumping to reach the rope. He grins down at Echo has he stands on the wobbly apparatus.

“You’re going to break your neck,” Echo says, and there’s real concern in his voice.

“With good posture and balance, one can accomplish anything,” Ben says in his snootiest, Jedi-inspired tone. He follows it up with a laugh and then carefully makes his way across the rope. When he’s finished, he jumps from the tall height, does two flips, and lands gracefully on his feet.

“I’m glad I don’t have thousands of Midochlorians f*cking with my head,” Echo says. “There’s something wrong with all of you Jedi.”

Ben just laughs and holds a hand out to Echo to pull him to his feet.

#

Days began to blur together in a steady stream of manual labor, broken up by reviewing reports and the occasional meeting. They’re prepping for their next big arrival, and Ben’s preoccupied with logistics; do they have enough beds, do they have enough blankets for those beds; do they have enough food. There’s certainly enough work for their new arrivals, but Ben also has to make sure the newcomers’ preferences are accounted for and that they aren’t overwhelmed.

He spends evenings pouring over what are essentially duty rosters with Cody and a full pot of tea between them. Once Cody calls it a night, Ben retreats to the Wellspring to continue working.

Perhaps, Ben reflects, as Cody corners him with a frown, the days blur together because he no longer has any kind of meaningful distinction between them. Day bleeds into night, and there are meals he attends (when he remembers) and there are people he sees for different shifts (so they don’t realize his irregular hours).

But Cody’s been paying attention, and he isn’t pleased with Ben’s workload. Ben’s figured this out, because once Cody corners him, he opens with, “Did you know sleep deprivation is a common torture method?”

Ben has never backed down gracefully from a fight in his entire life. Not when he went head-to-head with Qui-Gon Jinn and was left behind on Melida/Daan, not when he went after Tatooine slavers with his fists and burning anger. And apparently not now either, even though he’s a grown adult and should know better. “Ah, but you see, I don’t need to sleep.”

Cody narrows his eyes as if he’s unimpressed with Ben’s reasoning.

“The Wellspring,” Ben explains. “It’s a natural source of energy. Sitting by it is like constantly refreshing myself.”

“Physically, perhaps you don’t need sleep.” Cody’s expression says he’s still skeptical on this point. “But even your weird Jedi sh*t doesn’t keep you from being affected mentally.”

Ben pauses, mouth parted around his next argument. “I’m sorry, did you just say weird Jedi sh*t?”

Cody’s shoulders straighten as if whoever has the better posture has the better argument. “I worked under General Jinn and extensively with General Skywalker. Weird Jedi sh*t is an accepted and universally understood category of action.”

“Like what?” Ben asks, curious. While he has few positive memories of Qui-Gon Jinn, it’s been many years since Ben knew him. Maybe he’s had a complete personality transplant since.

“I’m not giving you any ideas,” Cody says with the air of someone used to wrangling troublemakers. Ben isn’t sure whether to be flattered Cody’s accepted him or offended at being considered a troublemaker. “You need to sleep.”

“What I need is fifty of me.” Maybe it’s arrogant to say, but Cody might be onto something with this sleep thing, because Ben’s brain is fatigued. But there’s an ever-growing pile of work, and even though Ben knows burning out won’t help anyone, he still gives into the temptation of just another report, just another task. And then it’s been six sleepless nights, and a very cute, very disgruntled Commander Cody is unhappy with him.

“We do know the top cloning experts in the galaxy,” Cody says drily.

And then, while Ben’s too busy gaping at him to put up any resistance, Cody wraps his hand around Ben’s elbow and guides him toward his room.

#

Ben isn’t sure whether he’s more impressed Cody put him to bed like a child or disappointed he didn’t offer to slip under the covers with him.

What is sure of, is that he’s doomed. Because Cody isn’t just attractive and competent, two of Ben’s biggest weaknesses when it comes to potential partners, but he’s funny. The cloning joke? Hilariously and perfectly delivered.

#

What Cody also is?

Is devious.

Unfortunately, this is only another turn on.

Ben is part of the governing council, along with four of the other subject matter experts involved in the settlement, and ten troopers. It hasn’t escaped Ben’s notice that, if they vote as a block, the troopers have a clear majority. It hasn’t affected him until Cody presents and passes the motion to institute a five-day week with a mandatory off-day for every settler.

“Mandatory,” Cody repeats, staring straight at Ben.

It’s ballsy, and it’s infuriating, and it’s incredibly hot. Ben almost proposes they spend their first off-day in bed together, because of course Cody scheduled them for the same off-day. And Ben does spend the entire day in bed, but it’s alone, and he spends most of it asleep, apparently catching up on his lack of it.

He settles into a new routine, pushing himself for four days and then crashing on the fifth. Cody takes to arranging meetings at meal times as a way to remind Ben to eat. It’s thoughtful and it’s sneaky, and if Ben were twenty years younger, he’d be drawing hearts around their initials.

“Oh no,” Boba groans. He makes a face at Ben as the rest of the meeting attendees file out of the room. Unfortunately, Cody and Rex both linger, attuned to a cry of despair. Boba crosses his arms over his chest. “I know that look. That’s how you look at someone before you tell me to find someone else to be for an hour.”

Rex snorts and claps Cody on the shoulder before walking out. Ben does his best to pretend the man isn’t stock still in the doorway, clearly listening to Ben’s response.

“I don’t have a look,” Ben finally says which is a lie and a weak one at that. He’s made a commitment to not broadcasting his interest or making Cody uncomfortable. He doesn’t want Boba’s untimely observation to jeopardize their working relationship.

“Buir—”

“It’s time for our lessons,” Ben interrupts, firmly but not unkindly. Cody still stands near the doorway, silent, his mind and thoughts locked tightly against a brief brush of the Force. He’s clearly uncomfortable, trying to hold it in to avoid offense, and Ben’s stomach twists with familiar shame. He was too late to prevent Cody’s awareness of his feelings, but he can endeavor to make sure he’s never burdened with them again.

Boba, picking up on the tension in the room, also grows tight and uncomfortable. Ben rests a hand on his shoulder, a familiar point of contact, and he’s relieved when Boba presses into it, as if needing the reassurance as much as Ben does. “There’s still time before dinner. Would you like to have a session in the rec center first and then work on your studies after dinner or should we do your studies now and your evening will be free?”

Boba hesitates, the bond between them open and trusting which means Ben can feel his indecision as he struggles to find the right answer.

Ben slides his hand up until he’s cupping the back of Boba’s neck. He leans down to touch their foreheads together and notes he doesn’t have to lean down quite as much as he once did. “There is no wrong answer, ad’ika. This is not a trick or a test. What would you like?”

“Staff training,” Boba answers, confident in what he wants, but there’s still a hesitation as if he isn’t sure he’ll be allowed.

“Staff training it is, then.” Ben squeezes his neck fondly and then straightens. “I’ll meet you in room four once I’ve changed.”

Boba beams at him, good mood restored, and bounds out of the room. One relationship patched and successfully navigated. Ben chances a look over at Cody and finds the man already gone. Well. It saves him an awkward encounter for now. He’s certain there will be one waiting to ambush him at a less convenient moment.

Nothing to do about it at present, Ben returns to his quarters. He changes into workout clothes. There is a changing room, complete with showers in the rec center, but he prefers the privacy of his rooms. Even though the men here all served in the war and wouldn’t find his scars uncommon, he hesitates to show the extent of them. Maybe because they were in the war and would recognize some of the wounds and have questions.

The rec center is the largest and most well-appointed of their structures. It serves as a common area, as training grounds, as a place to relax and refresh. It isn’t only designed for sparring and weapons work. There is a library and comfortable seating to lure anyone in for a quiet afternoon. There are art rooms and a communication room, and a large open room filled with tables, designed for board games and card games and the easy comradery they want to foster here.

Ben is unsurprised to find the center bustling with activity when he enters. He is just as unsurprised to find Boba with company in room four. Rex and a recent arrival, Wooley, are there, hands taped as they work with the padded mats to stay in shape. Cupcake and Jumper are there as well, two brothers who seem younger than the others. Ben suspects they were born later and saw less action in the war. They’re lighter, happier than the more veteran troopers.

They’ve also become fast friends with Boba. It’s rare for Ben to go a day without hearing about them. Boba eats with them or trains with them, sometimes works with them, depending on the day.

“Can Cupcake and Jumper train with us?” Boba asks. Despite it being a question, he clearly expects Ben to answer yes. Cupcake and Jumper are more hesitant. They glance between Boba and Ben, uncertain of their welcome.

“Of course, they may,” Ben answers. “Boba requested staff work. Are either of you familiar fighting with a staff?”

Both troopers shake their heads though it’s Jumper who ventures a soft, “Will that be a problem, sir?”

Ben covers his flinch at the address well enough for no one to pick up on it. He offers his most comforting smile as he says. “Not a problem at all, and there’s no need to call me sir. I’m your equal here. My name is Ben.”

He doesn’t need the Force to know neither of them are completely comfortable addressing him by name. He suspects their compromise will be not to address him by any kind of name or title until they know him better.

“We’ll begin with something familiar,” Ben says. “A few laps around the room and then stretches.”

Ben joins them and privately smiles at both their surprise and the same emotion he senses from Rex and Wooley. He isn’t a solider, and he isn’t one of the brothers, but he’s far from a civilian. After their muscles are warm from the run, they stretch, and Ben shows them how to stretch in pairs in order to push their muscles further.

“You’ll be sore tomorrow,” Boba warns with the air of the experienced. “But it’s important. You can’t disassemble your body and clean it like a blaster so you have to make sure to keep up steady maintenance. Stretching is good even if it’s boring.”

Ben flicks Boba’s ear to make him laugh. It has the added effect of relaxing his friends. Soon, they finish their stretches, and Ben goes to the weapons locker to select a staff for each of them. He and Boba have their own, of course, designed specifically for their builds and their fighting style. For Cupcake and Jumper, he starts them with a training staff.

He hands them each their weapon and then frowns at the grip Cupcake takes, choked up, closer to the center of the staff than is useful. He hums to himself and pulls a new staff from the closet. He exchanges it with the one Cupcake has and nods to himself as Cupcake’s grip, combined with a longer staff, feels better.

Ben has fought with a long staff before, holding it from the center and using both ends to fend off attackers. He prefers the speed and maneuverability of a shorter staff and, of course, his lightsaber is a shorter weapon, able to be wielded one handed when he needs the other to manipulate the Force.

“I can use the other,” Cupcake says once he realizes his weapon is different than Jumper’s and even Boba’s. “It’s inefficient to train us differently.”

“Hardly,” Ben says, keeping his tone light so Cupcake doesn’t wilt under the correction. “It’s inefficient for me to try and force your body into a style it’s less suited for. Besides, variety is important.”

He takes them through a simple kata, first without a staff in hand and then while holding one. Cupcake and Jumper are both in very good shape and clearly used to instruction, but they’re also used to sharp criticism. Ben is far more forgiving with them than they are with themselves. He doesn’t lie to them, he doesn’t tell them they’ve done it right when they haven’t, but he is honest when he tells them they do well.

Before their frustration can mount and ruin their progress, Ben tells them to put the staves away and practice their hand-to-hand while he and Boba spar. Perhaps predictably, both troopers put their weapons away with care and then settle in to watch.

Ben bends to touch his toes and then raises his arms to the ceiling and sighs at the pull in his muscles. He and Boba are diligent in their staff work. When Ben deems it safe enough, they’ll practice with his lightsaber and the darksaber Boba inherited from Jango.

The darksaber has remained tucked away since they began this assignment. Ben hopes to take Boba on a scouting trip and at least give him a chance to hold the weapon again before he forgets the feel of it in his hands.

Ben’s proficient with his saber and just as good with an electrostaff. At one time, the sight of the slavers’ preferred weapon filled him with rage and pain and a strong sense of injustice. He conquered those feelings and conquered the weapon. In places where wielding a saber would be more of a danger than a help, he uses a staff.

This practice weapon is weighted the same and doesn’t come with the crackle and pain of electricity.

He and Boba take their respective places and bow to each other, signifying the start of the spar. Boba, as is his style, makes the first move. He darts in. Ben easily deflects his blow, which Boba expected. But when Boba tries to duck under Ben’s guard, Ben is there to meet him, because he knew to expect this.

They grin at each other, because sparring together is soothing in a way meditation is, a familiar comfort. Even as they try to catch each other off guard with different sequences, the movements are all known to each other. Boba is high energy, and he prefers a relentless attack while he studies possible weaknesses. Ben is steady, weathering each assault because he trusts his energy reserves will outlast Boba’s.

With an audience, Boba shows off, using some of the acrobatics Ben taught him. They’re not quite as crisp as Ben’s since Boba doesn’t have the Force to assist him. Still, he lands lightly on his feet and grins, even as sweat dots his forehead. “Come on, buir. Or are you afraid you can’t keep up?”

“I know I’m older than you. It’s hardly an insult to make a statement of fact.”

“Come on,” Boba whines again.

And, well, tomorrow is Ben’s mandated rest day. If he wants to spend it in the hot springs and meditating at the Wellspring, he can. Which means he can push himself hard tonight. Ben shifts his stance, barely any movement at all, but Boba notices and cheers.

And then it’s Ben’s turn to attack, slipping in and under Boba’s guard like a river, twisting and curving through every available space. Boba yelps as Ben raps his knuckles with the staff. He manages a counterattack which Ben guards against before he jumps away so they can evaluate each other again.

Boba’s still light and happy, his emotions positive as they leak into the Force, but he’s focused as well. He knows Ben holds back when they train, and Ben’s still holding back, but this is now a true spar and not a training exercise.

Boba’s always flourished with a challenge, and he rises to meet this one, determined to make Ben proud and impress his friends. Aware of Boba’s pride, and the importance of not going too easy on him but also not going too hard, Ben finds his mind and body completely consumed by the fight. It becomes a dance within a dance for him, pushing Boba to his limits while holding himself back.

When the spar ends, after Ben’s swept Boba’s feet out from under him with his leg and then held the point of his staff to Boba’s neck, Ben’s shirt sticks to his back with sweat, and he’s breathing hard. His body is alight with sensations, and he’s looking forward to a hot shower and filling meal.

Ben taps Boba’s collarbone lightly with his staff. “You did very well defending against my staff.”

Boba nods and then sighs. “But I forgot that you have more weapons than the one in your hands.”

“Exactly.” Ben allows his pride at Boba’s observation to fill his tone and soothe some of the string of defeat.

“At least you didn’t bite me.” Boba accepts Ben’s offer of a hand up and gives him a cheeky grin as surprise pings in the Force around them. They seem to have attracted an audience while they sparred.

“You bite?” Cupcake asks before he realizes he might not have wanted to speak.

“Not in a spar,” Ben says. And then, before Rex can say any of the things that have that smirk on his face, he adds, “In fights, yes, I have been known to bite. I’ve learned to use every weapon at my disposal. Humanoid teeth aren’t designed for battle the way other species are, but the surprise was enough for me to regain the upper hand.”

Jumper looks horrified. “You bit a droid? How do you still have teeth?”

“Ah.” Ben realizes not every trooper knows who he is or why he’s here. It’s only natural for them to assume he was also a part of their war. “I’ve only had to fight droids a few times. And I did not bite any of them.”

“Will you spar with your lightsaber next time?” Jumper asks, emboldened by Ben’s easygoing attitude toward their curiosity.

“Even at its lowest setting, it would cut through any of staves we have here.” Ben allows regret to fill his tone so they believe he wishes he could show them his saber. The truth, of course, is he doesn’t. He guards it more closely here, amongst these troopers who are accustomed to fighting on battlefields alongside Jedi.

He’s at peace with his past and the present it has led him to, but there’s no need to flaunt the ways he falls short of the Jedi they’re used to interacting with. He clears his throat. “Boba and I do staff work enough to keep me in practice in the event I ever need my saber. But we have a rotating schedule of weapons training to stay well-rounded. Perhaps, you could lead our next session; blasters or hand-to-hand whichever you’re more comfortable with.”

“You should!” Boba says before either of his friends can politely decline. “It’s good to have a training group, and buir always says teaching is one of the best learning tools. Wait until he plays the student. He’s a troublemaker.”

“Alright,” Ben says, before Boba can overwhelm his friends. “That’s enough. It’s time to wash up for dinner.”

“Can I eat with Cupcake and Jumper? I promise to be back in time for my lessons.”

“Of course,” Ben answers.

Boba grins and he’s halfway to the door when he pauses. “Who are you going to eat with, then?”

“Myself. I’ve heard I’m quite good company.”

Boba, rather than laughing at Ben’s joke, narrows his eyes. “You’re not going to skip eating again, are you?”

“I’m not,” Ben promises, touched by Boba’s concern but also irritated, especially with Rex paying avid attention. No doubt this exchange will be told throughout the trooper ranks by morning.

“The Force doesn’t count.” Boba’s concern edges into something desperate, and Ben suspects he’s another minute or two from leaving his friends and spending the evening with Ben instead.

“I will eat proper food,” Ben promises.

“Because I heard Cody telling Kix that you were meditating instead of sleeping.” Boba’s concern reaches the next level, the one Ben was worried about. Rather than being soothed by Ben’s promises, Boba has only worked himself up more. “Do you remember Nevar?”

As if Ben could forget. Nevar was one of their assignments, a world destroyed by civil war. The war had been bad enough before the Separatists picked a side and the Republic picked another. With better weapons, each side caused each other more damage. In the smoking aftermath, slavers came in to feed off the chaos. Power vacuums were filled by the corrupt. There was fear and starvation, violence around every corner.

Ben and Boba arrived to help turn battlefields into farmland again. But greed and deceit and poor weather meant there wasn’t enough food to go around. Ben supplemented his diet with the Force, giving Boba whatever of his rations that he could.

Ben doesn’t point out that he survived and recovered. Instead, he takes a knee in front of Boba and clasps his hands. “I do. On Nevar I did what was necessary.” He holds onto Boba’s hands when he tries to draw them back. “But we aren’t on Nevar anymore. What was necessary there is not necessary here. I am eating. I promise.”

“Okay.” Soothed by the promised, Boba squeezes Ben’s hands and then departs with his friends.

Ben pushes to his feet, slowly because his muscles are stiff from the sparring earlier. He knows Rex is still watching, knows he’ll no doubt discuss this new insight with Cody and the others later. Ben’s tempted to ask what conclusions he’s drawn, but Ben isn’t sure he’ll like any of Rex’s answers.

Chapter 5

Chapter Text

Now that Boba’s made him conscious of it, Ben is more aware of his actions and how they affect those around him. Cody’s meetings, scheduled around meals to make sure Ben eats are no longer amusing to him. They fill him with shame at needing to be managed and the shame quickly takes on a sharp edge, anger he directs both within and without.

Ben meditates, he reflects, and he doesn’t like what he sees. Cody, seeing that Ben wasn’t eating, scheduled meetings and brought food to make sure he did. Cody, realizing Ben wasn’t sleeping, instituted a mandatory rest day to make sure Ben would sleep at least one day in five.

Ben is a grown adult, more than capable of looking after his own needs. That he wasn’t is another source of shame, but he won’t make Cody pick up the slack. He programs timers into the padd he carriers everywhere with him. It reminds him to eat and, after a marathon research session, he creates a program that locks him out until he sleeps at regular intervals.

Once he has a new routine in place, Ben seeks out Cody. The man is easy to find, he follows a rigid routine. At this particular time, he’s in the rec center’s courtyard garden. It’s nothing like the Room of a Thousand Fountains, but there is a water feature and a whole collection of native flora.

Ben’s tried to explain to more than one trooper the importance of flowers. They were puzzled at a plant which was here for only an aesthetic purpose. As if the only plants allowed were ones which could be eaten or turned into medicine or used for some purpose. His chest aches sometimes with how little the galaxy has taught these men. And at other times he burns with rage at the lessons they have learned.

Cody, while less baffled by the garden than his brothers, still finds it amusing more than anything. He will sit in it, though, as if extended exposure will grant him understanding. Ben doesn’t mind bothering him here since it isn’t a place of peace or meditation.

“Good afternoon,” Ben greets.

Cody smiles at him, a quirk of his lips which is both a greeting and a sign that he’s amused by Ben’s small talk.

True, Ben clearly came here with a purpose, but he does try to be polite. He supposes there weren’t a lot of opportunities for social niceties on the frontlines. “I understand we now number thirty-thousand.”

“We do.” Cody’s smile turns more genuine. “Boil and Waxer are leading the second city. We’re hoping to get their numbers up higher and acclimate more brothers before we start the third. But we’re working toward the ten initial cities, the ones which can support the, what did the healer call it?” He pauses for a moment and then hums. “The onboarding process.”

“It’s good,” Ben says.

“It is,” Cody agrees. “It’s slow, but I understand the process and the math. Our onboarding will increase exponentially. Within a year, all my brothers will have a home here if they want it, even if there will still be a lot of work to be done. It’s good to see them when they arrive. I understand having multiple cities as entrance points, but I regret that I can’t greet each one of them as they arrive.”

This segues neatly into Ben’s purpose for seeking him out. “Meals are a communal time and a good opportunity to check in with the ones who pass through this city at least.”

“I have meetings during most meals.”

Ben gives Cody his flattest, most unimpressed look. It still makes Boba fold like a cheap suit, but Cody merely lifts an eyebrow. Ben shakes his head. “You’re in charge of the schedule. You can make them for a different time.”

“It’s convenient.”

“It isn’t.” Ben tries to keep his tone gentle, because it isn’t Cody he’s angry with. All Cody is guilty of is trying to be a good man. “I know why you switched our meeting times, but it isn’t necessary. You can check with the healers if you like. Healer Pre is quite pleased with the weight I’ve put on recently.”

Cody’s expression closes off, as well as his mind. “I see.”

Ben struggles with his next words, because they’re difficult to say. But a punishment isn’t supposed to be easy. “I have been a burden on you when my role here is to help. I apologize. I am more mindful now. It should not happen again.”

“You aren’t a burden,” Cody says. His expression is a touch fond as he shakes his head. “Would you believe I’m used to this? I learned the art of scheduling meetings during meals because of General Jinn.”

Ben’s insides grow cold. Now, he recognizes the deep source of unease with his own behavior. Because he was acting like Qui-Gon did. Ben learned to cook because it was that or go hungry when Qui-Gon forgot. He learned how to draw on the Force because of the missions when they were simply too busy to stop for food. He learned to trade sleep for meditation because it was restful while still allowing him to remain alert.

The thought that Ben made Cody act as his minder, the way he was Jinn’s, makes bile burn in his throat. He rests a hand on one of the saplings they’re growing and then yanks it back as if he’s been burned. Of course, Cody enjoys the garden. How many plants did Jinn fill his quarters with when Ben knew him? His f*cking ferns were better cared for than Ben was. They never went without. When Jinn was away from the Temple, he arranged for someone to look after them.

It was Ben who wasn’t good enough, wasn’t important enough—

He cuts off his train of thought before he can spiral down too deep. Still, heavy emotions and even heavier memories weigh on him.

“Ben?” Cody’s earlier amusem*nt has been replaced with concern. He hovers on the edge of Ben’s vision, out of range of an attack in case Ben lashes out.

“I apologize,” Ben says again. “I don’t need a minder. You should spend your meals with your brothers.”

“Instead of you?” Cody’s tone is flat, a warning that Ben wishes he had the time to head off.

But he’s barely holding back the rush of his emotions, and he needs to be somewhere private before they overpower his defenses. “Yes,” he answers. And then, “I need to go.” He hurries off, not quite a run, but undeniably fleeing.

He makes it to his room unbothered, and he’s grateful Boba has friends to occupy his free time with now, because it means Ben is blessedly alone when the door to his quarters closes behind him. To be safe, he enters his room and closes, and locks, the door behind him. He sits cross-legged in the middle of his bed and has the time for one deep breath before everything crashes over him.

I am the eye of the storm, he reminds himself as emotions and long-buried memories rage and churn around him. His recent shame at being like Jinn. His old insecurity and confusion, wondering why he wasn’t enough for the man. The clawing helplessness as everything he tried to do to please the man backfired. His confusion on why Jinn relented and took him as a padawan when he clearly hadn’t wanted to.

It is a maelstrom around him, dark, dangerous clouds. The Jedi Order would be afraid if they could see his mindscape right now. They warned him he was too volatile as an initiate. But they don’t understand. Because he is the calm at the center of the chaos. Ignoring these feelings would cause them to bubble up, catch him off guard at the wrong time. But here, safe in his meditation, he can let each one of them run their course.

He is exhausted by the end of it. His limbs and his mind ache as if he has been wrung dry. His padd chimes at him, reminding him to eat. He makes himself a cup of tea and some toast. He doesn’t feel like eating, but he knows better than to go completely without. He’ll have Boba and the healers on him in an instant.

And Cody? He wonders. No, you fool, you’ve chased him away.

Ben finishes his meager meal and then leaves a note for Boba, letting him know he’s gone to bed early.

#

Ben and Cody are professional but distant following their meeting in the garden. Cody does, in fact, change the meeting schedule. They’re now early in the morning, before first meal, and Rex spends the first five minutes of each meeting glaring at Ben.

It means Ben’s uncertain if Cody will approve his scouting trip with Boba. It’s an unusual request, and Ben doesn’t know where he and Cody stand. Still, he promised Boba he would try so he presents the trip as a scouting venture beneficial to the settlement and offers to work through his upcoming rest days, an equal number to his days on the trip.

Cody glances up from the formal written request for only a moment before he looks back down at the padd. Ben feels an unsettling sense of loss at the lack of eye contact.

“You can’t have it both ways,” Cody finally says. “Either this is part of your duties and therefore you keep your rest days, or this is a personal trip, and you forfeit them.”

Ben’s concerned if this is official business, he will have to bring others along with them, and he promised Boba some time only the two of them. Plus, he’s as eager to spar with his saber again as Boba is. But if this is personal, is Cody offering him preferential treatment? No, if he’s exchanging his rest days, it’s a transaction. Above board.

“It’s personal,” Ben finally says. “I will work through my rest days and then Boba’s as well. He doesn’t deserve to lose his.”

“But you do?” Cody glances up from the padd again. “An interesting choice, the word deserves.” He taps on his padd. “The trip is approved, and I’ve scheduled an appointment with Healer Maradon for you on each of your next ten rest days. That will be all.”

Ben doesn’t move at first. Healer Maradon is one of the mind healers. He doesn’t need to speak with her. And even so, one small appointment on a rest day doesn’t make up for what’s essentially going to be a vacation. It seems absurd to argue for more work, and yet, this is the position Cody’s forced him in to.

“You’re dismissed,” Cody says without looking up from his padd.

Ben isn’t a trooper, he doesn’t have to follow orders. And yet he does. Because it’s clear he isn’t welcome. He leaves and his chest feels hollow, an echo where his heartbeat should be. He returns to his rooms in a daze, and Boba immediately pops out of his chair.

“Did they say no?”

Ben shakes his head, at least able to soothe this worry.

“You’re upset.”

“Some time away, just the two of us is exactly what I need to find my balance again.” Ben offers Boba a smile. “Your shifts will be covered while you’re away?”

“Yes. And yours?”

“I’m bringing my comm because I can’t be inaccessible.”

Boba nods. The disappointed slump of his shoulders isn’t for the comm, which is practical. “You’re bringing work with you.”

“Only to be done while you’re sleeping,” Ben promises.

“When are you going to sleep?”

“When the rest is necessary. Which one of us is the buir and which one of us is the ad’ika?”

Boba huffs but relents. “I have a flight simulator session scheduled tonight so I won’t be around for dinner.”

Ben thinks, but doesn’t say, that he hasn’t seen Boba for dinner in recent memory. He’s glad Boba’s making friends, building connections. They’ve never had this kind of stability before. And he was worried at how Jango Fett’s other children would welcome the one chosen by Jango, the one who wasn’t bred for war but to one day be Mand’alor.

“Enjoy,” Ben says.

Boba darts out and Ben sits heavily at their little table. Maybe he needs to make some friends. He thought he and Cody might—but no. His attraction made their friendship awkward and then their conversation in the garden officially severed what remained.

He’s been invited to a few sabacc games by some of the other experts. He’s avoided them, because he doesn’t want there to be a divide between trooper and not-trooper, but he isn’t meant to be on his own.

#

The fresh air does wonders for Ben’s mood and peace of mind as he and Boba trek out across the plains. The distance too, even if he’ll have reports to read tonight and opinions to give, this is a break from the non-stop work of such a large project. This is why Cody instituted mandatory rest days. And yet, even with how good it feels now and knowing the importance of rest, he’s sure he’ll be back to his bad habits once they’re back in Jangolare, the name they finally gave their capital city.

Ben abstained from that vote and, at his lead, the other non-troopers did as well. Ben knows most of their council of experts will move on at some point. This is a home for the retired members of the GAR, a haven they deserve.

It isn’t Ben’s to name.

After a noon meal under the high sun, Ben and Boba continue their adventure but this time, they talk. Ben asks him about all the flora and fauna they can see. He praises Boba for what he knows, teaches him what he doesn’t, and these little moments easily turn into bigger ones; stories Ben can share, from his time before Boba and some of them from when they’ve been together.

They find a good place to set up camp for the evening and go hunting. They eat meat roasted over a fire and then sit in their bedrolls and look up at the stars and name as many as they can.

Ben expects it to be an early night after their long walk, but Boba doesn’t settle, even after they’ve run out of stars.

“Jumper and Cupcake are together,” Boba finally says.

It’s dark enough that Ben can’t see his charge, but he can hear the restless way Boba shifts. He can feel the nerves and uncertainly rolling off him in waves.

“And I don’t know if I want to be with them because I feel left out or because I actually like them in that way.”

“That is a tough position to be in,” Ben says. He’s caught off guard but not surprised. Boba always finds things to bring up like this. Ben has grown used to difficult questions even if he’s never successfully predicted what they’re going to be.

Boba sighs. “I thought about kissing one of them, but what if it makes it weird? Or what if I don’t like it? But what if I try kissing with someone else, and they hear about it and get upset?”

“It sounds as though you’ve been thinking about this a lot.”

“I have. But I don’t have a plan. I’m just thinking in circles. But you’re a grown-up.”

“Oh, Boba,” Ben sighs. “Age doesn’t always bring with it experience.”

“But you have relationships.”

“I can tell you about attraction, and I can tell you about sex, but relationships are an entirely different thing.” Even though Ben feels a curl of shame at being deficient in an area, he still resolves to speak on it.

“But Bail.”

Ben sighs again. “Bail is a very dear friend, and he is the longest and closest relationship I have, but there was also a limit to what our relationship could be. He is married, happily and permanently to Breha. I knew that one day, I would look back on pleasant memories, rather than look forward to new encounters.”

Ben always knew the day would come where he and Bail would shift the nature of their relationship. Of course, he never expected they would set aside their bed sport, because of work. He figured Bail and Breha would decide to create a family without Ben in it or that Ben and Bail would simply no longer feel the same attraction to each other.

Regardless, Ben knew it would end. Where Boba is terrified of losing his friendship with Jumper and Cupcake, Ben is confident he and Bail will continue to be friends. It’s a complicated matter, and Ben has meditated on it for years now. Boba is only beginning his journey of self-discovery.

“And that day has come,” Ben admits. “Bail and I are friends only now. No more rendezvous for us.”

“Do you regret it?” Boba asks. “Having that kind of relationship and then losing it?”

Ben huffs a near-silent laugh. Boba is certainly asking the tough questions tonight. “I don’t but all people are different. You can’t base your life and decisions on my own.”

“Why don’t you regret it?”

“Well, the long, introspective answer is that subconsciously, part of Bail’s appeal to me was that he was already attached to someone.” And Force, who needs mind healers when one has a child who makes them examine their actions? Because he’s certain now that was part of it. Bail was attractive because there was no expectation of commitment. They both have busy lives and met up when they could and at the end of the day, Bail had a queen and planet and a marriage to return to.

There have been other lovers, ones who even though Ben clearly stated he wanted something casual, developed feelings for him and wanted him to reciprocate. Jayla summarized it best when she was hurling cookware at his head. It wasn’t that he was afraid of commitment. It was that he’d chosen his job and Boba, and refused to prioritize her. And she was correct. His priorities are his work, Boba, and then with the time leftover he pursues his own wants.

He supposes soon Boba will be too old for Ben’s hovering. He’ll grow into his own man. But Ben suspects he’ll only devote more time to work.

“You set yourself up for failure?” Boba asks.

“Hardly. A relationship can be fulfilling even if you know it will end one day. Sometimes, it is best to live in the moment and not in the possibilities of the future.” Somewhere in the galaxy, Qui-Gon Jinn feels smugly vindicated. It was a lesson he tried in vain to teach Ben when he was the man’s padawan. But, as Ben has learned since adopting Boba, some lessons cannot be taught with words. They need experience. It isn’t a failing of the student but of the teacher if they don’t understand.

There have been times Ben’s visions have helped prevent disaster. There have been other times where he’s worried to the point of distraction and exhaustion over them. Like with all things, they key is balance. And understanding that there is no way to always be one-hundred percent correct in a course of action. He’s grown better at forgiving himself for his mistakes, learning from them and moving past them.

“I’ll have to keep thinking about it,” Boba says.

“I am happy to continue to discuss your thoughts if you’d like to share. And, if you choose to pursue a romantic or sexual relationship, we’ll have another discussion on safe, consensual sex. Or, if you’d rather, you can speak with one of the healers.”

Muted embarrassment drifts over from Boba’s bedroll. “Yes, buir,” he says in the pained tone of any ad’ika when faced of the prospect of an uncomfortable sex talk. Ben’s own talks were each horrifying in their own right, but Tatooine isn’t the best environment to learn about healthy sex. At least he wasn’t with Jinn long enough to receive a lecture from the stern man.

“I’m sure someone has a silicone phallus we can practice rolling condoms onto,” Ben says, feeling mischievous and wanting to lighten his own thoughts before sleeping.

“I hate you,” Boba murmurs into his blankets. It’s a lie. Embarrassment continues to roll off of him, but there’s muted affection beneath it, the same kind of exasperated fondness Ben’s heard in his own voice countless times.

“Pleasant dreams, ad’ika,” Ben says.

#

After a long morning walk, Ben declares them far enough from the settlement for sparring. Boba, of course, is ecstatic. Ben’s excitement is quite high as well. While he can at least do his katas with his saber, there’s nothing like a spar. Sparring with Boba isn’t the challenge he needs to improve his skills, but it helps him stay sharp.

They set up camp first, a lesson in patience, and because Ben’s sure they’ll work themselves to exhaustion and they’ll both be glad later when they can faceplant in their bedrolls. Once everything is ready, they each strip down to their pants. They go for a run, surrounded by wilderness instead of confined by walls.

Boba, who usually suffers through warm-ups, enjoys this one. Ben makes a note to start tomorrow morning with a long, easy run. It’ll be good for both of them. They stretch, Ben puts them through two circuits of core and body weight exercises and then finally he calls both sabers to him.

The darksaber hums in his grip. He knows from experience it grows worse when ignited. He can fight with it in a pinch, but he prefers his own. He hands Boba the darksaber and then ignites his own. The familiar green glow greets him, and he smiles as he settles into a basic kata.

Boba doesn’t complain, even when Ben draws out their drills. Both of them are too happy to be holding their neglected weapons to regret any kind of work. Finally, once their skin glistens with sweat, and Ben’s impatience is feeding into Boba’s, he declares them ready to spar.

Their first bout has plenty of rust on both sides. Ben, with years of experience, shakes his off first. He settles his body and moves into a training sequence. He guides Boba without the other being aware of it, giving Boba openings to test his offensive and observational skills. Ben goes on the offensive himself to make sure Boba remembers his blocks and parries.

Once Boba is more comfortable, they shift into a proper spar. Ben’s joy to work with his saber mingles with his pride at how well Boba does. It’s a cascade of positive emotion, and he allows it to float around them, hovering like a cloud rather than dissipating it into the Force. There’s no one here but them for his emotions to affect, and they both deserve the buoyancy brought by the exercise.

When the bout ends, in Ben’s favor, they both flop on their backs, laughing.

“Another?” Boba asks.

“I don’t recover as quickly as you do,” Ben says. “A snack, a drink, and I’ll go again.”

“A nap?” Boba teases.

Ben closes his eyes and lets out an exaggerated snore. Boba laughs again and then peels himself off the ground so he can find provisions.

#

Even a few sessions with the darksaber sees Boba improve in leaps and bounds. Ben will have to find a way to keep up with his training. He knows the staff work they do laid the groundwork for the improvement, but at the end of the day, a saber is a different kind of weapon, and Boba needs practice with the real thing.

Maybe he can find a nearby secluded grove, and they can practice every rest day.

Of course, thinking about rest days reminds him of the corner Cody backed him into. Ben has to attend sessions with a mind healer. He knows he should. He lives a violent life, and it’s hypocritical to insist Boba see someone when he doesn’t. But still, his problems will be there for a mind healer to sort through at any time. There are more immediate problems which require his attention.

And that’s why it’s been five years since my last session.

He should contact Healer Bisu. She was the healer he was assigned to after his kidnapping and escape. Judicial didn’t press charges, because he killed in self-defense, and the man he killed was one they had been searching for for a long time. Still, he had mandated sessions with a mind healer.

Healer Bisu knows more about him and his past than perhaps anyone else. He doesn’t want to have to explain years of history and buried hurts to Healer Maradon. Healer Bisu will scold him for going so long without contacting her, but he knows she’ll agree to holo sessions. It’s what they did until he was on an assignment that didn’t permit contact off-planet. And once their routine was disrupted, he never returned to it.

But it’s time.

It is not Cody’s responsibility to look after him. Ben is an adult, capable of doing the hard work himself. Besides, he’s certain Cody and the whole situation here will come up in his sessions, and he’d prefer not to speak to someone who is part of the settlement. Even with confidentiality clauses, he feels better sharing his secrets and anxieties with someone who he doesn’t have to see face-to-face on a daily basis.

He’s feeling much more settled and at peace with the world when they return from their vacation. Which is, of course, when Boba throws a grenade into his peace.

“I was thinking of moving into the bunkhouse,” Boba says over dinner, the third night they’ve been back.

Ben was pleased when Boba chose to eat with him, surprised when he suggested a quiet meal in their quarters rather than in the communal dining hall. As part of the settlement staff, Ben has quarters in a separate building. He has two bedrooms, a fresher, and a kitchen/living room hybrid. It’s small but it’s more than he’s had most places he’s lived.

Ben pauses and sets his spoon back in its bowl.

“Not with Cupcake and Jumper.” Boba’s eyes are wide, and his backtracking is genuine and edged with a touch of panic. “I mean, they’d be in the same building. But we wouldn’t live in the same quad.”

The bunkhouse is designed in pods. There are quads with a shared fresher, doubles with a shared fresher between two doubles, and some singles as well. There are even some designed like the ships, with bunkbeds rather than separate rooms.

It doesn’t surprise him that Boba wants to be a part of the communal living. The troopers vary in age, and there are many who are close to Boba’s. It’s an opportunity for independence and friendship. The part of Ben which cries out in protest is selfish. This will be good for Boba.

“Have you spoken with the quartermaster?”

“He says it’s okay, but because of my age I have to have your permission.”

“You have it,” Ben says, because he doesn’t see any sense in making Boba suffer for an answer. “You also will always have a place with me. And I’d like to eat first meal with you each morning after our training sessions.”

“Of course.” Boba’s joy radiates from him, infectious even though Ben’s a bit melancholy about the change. Boba’s smile turns sly. “Now you’ll have the whole rooms to yourself. You can have company over whenever you want.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Ben says neutrally.

Boba huffs but sets the topic aside to chat excitedly about his new friends and the shifts he’s picking up with the programmers. Ben smiles and listens and tries to live in the moment rather than reflect on how few of these moments they have left.

Chapter 6

Chapter Text

Ben’s first session with Healer Bisu comes the day after he helps Boba move his things into the bunkhouse. Boba doesn’t have enough belongings to justify both of them making the trip, but Ben acknowledges this is a rite of passage and an important part of the process.

He gifts Boba with a small plant. It’s hardy and emits a pleasant fragrance, though it may not be up to the challenge of combatting the stink of four growing males. Boba, at least, has outgrown the phase where he avoided the shower as if it would burn the skin off of him.

Ben makes himself comfortable, cross-legged in the nest of blankets and pillows he made on the floor. He gives himself five minutes to find his center before he calls Healer Bisu. She’s unchanged from what he remembers. Her blue skin is still a deep sapphire color, not yet lightening with advanced age. Her two antennae are alert and swivel toward him even though there’s nothing they can pick up through a holocall.

She smiles, sharp teeth on full display. If Ben didn’t know her, perhaps it would be threatening. Instead, he smiles warmly back. “Healer Bisu. It is good to see you.”

“It’s good to see you as well, Ben. I’m glad you decided to reach out.”

She doesn’t scold him for the long absence even though he’s sure she would like to. He takes a deep breath and runs his hand through his hair. It’s growing long. He should have it cut. He enjoys the feel of it between his fingers, but it’s impractical. “I have more stability than I’ve had in recent years.”

“Tell me about your new situation.”

Ben settles into the comfort of his nest. “Through my connection with Senator Organa, I was made aware of and invited to assist in settling the clone troopers who fought in the war.”

“Quite a large undertaking,” Healer Bisu says.

“An important one as well. On a personal note, it means a long-term, stable assignment for the first time in…” Ben trails off as he thinks. “For the first time.” He chuckles quietly. “It’s been good for Boba. I was worried at first. He is different than Jango Fett’s other progeny, but he’s been accepted and is thriving. He’s actually just moved out of our shared quarters and into the bunkhouse to be with his friends.”

Healer Bisu’s antennae stand taller, doing the human equivalent of raising her eyebrows. “This is a significant step in a parent-child relationship. How do you feel about it?”

“It was going to happen. Boba is growing older and more independent. I dread the day he goes off planet or has his own ship, but I know that day will come as well.”

“I heard many facts but few feelings.” Healer Bisu smiles as she reminds him that she knows him and his tricks quite well.

“My life has centered around Boba for so long it’s unsettling to be without him. I’ll find a new normal.”

Healer Bisu is patient.

“I fear I will be the one to leave him,” Ben finally says. “These are his brothers. He’s finding a home and a place amongst them. I am a crisis manager. At some point, the situation here will stop being a crisis and my services will no longer be needed.”

“You find yourself on the outside looking in.”

Ben nods, acknowledging that he recognizes and understands the observation. It’s a familiar hurt. He doesn’t blame his father for giving him to the Jedi when they arrived. His father had three children, Ben and then his two cousins, his father left raising them after the shuttle crash which killed Ben’s mother, aunt, and uncle.

The Jedi promised a better life. They promised travel and adventure. They offered Ben’s father relief, two children to mind instead of three. But Ben’s time with the Jedi changed him. When he came home, it was clear he no longer fit, the space left behind in his absence closed over and healed. He didn’t fit with the Jedi either, first rejected by and then later rejecting the Order.

He’s well suited to the AgriCorps, because they’re a transient group. There’s no expectation he try and make a home somewhere, because he’ll won’t remain in any one place for long. It doesn’t stop him from wishing, from parts of his soul reaching out, desperate to put down roots and stay.

The troopers aren’t replicas of each other. They are similar, yes, but in appearance and personality they find ways to be individuals. Still, it’s obvious when he surveys a room, he is not like them. “I want to be one of them.” There are many places he’s traveled, many people he’s helped. Sometimes, he’s wanted to stay because the sheer volume of work, it required more than the year or two he was assigned there.

Hasiera is the first time he wants to stay for personal reasons.

“You never will be,” Healer Bisu says, matter-of-fact. Her words cut deeply, and he glances at the projector, but she sees it and says, “Ben, do not turn off the projector. Let me finish.” She pauses, waits to make sure she has his full attention. “You are not a clone trooper or a veteran of the GAR. But you can still find a place where you fit here.”

He wants to with an intensity that frightens him. It’s the kind of want they warned against in the Temple. It’s a powerful, selfish feeling, one he might do terrible things to bring to pass. He takes a deep breath and releases it. He bleeds away the emotion but nothing comes to take its place, leaving him empty and off-balance.

“I have never belonged anywhere,” Ben says, a common refrain in their sessions. “But I would like to belong here.”

#

Ben is hollowed out after his session, drained of words and emotions. He moves slowly through his quarters, aimless and inefficient. He takes down the tea kettle and then fetches the tea. He remembers he hasn’t put water in the kettle and does that. He spends five minutes choosing between three mugs and then realizes he hasn’t put the kettle on the stovetop.

Someone knocks on his door.

Ben hesitates. Boba would barge in so it isn’t him, but Boba is the only person Ben would be comfortable greeting when he’s feeling like this.

There’s a second knock.

Emergency? Adrenaline floods through his system, perking him up. He grabs his vest from the hook, the one designed with a dozen pockets, all stuffed with useful things. He opens the door, even as he lifts a hand to call his saber to his grip. The familiar weapon soothes him, and he clips it to his belt before he acknowledges his visitor.

Cody’s posture, easy and loose, tenses into something mirroring Ben’s own state. “Is something wrong?”

Ben blinks, his brain slow to process. “I should be asking you that, I believe.”

“I came to say hello.” Cody’s hand hovers over Ben’s arm as if he wants to offer comfort but isn’t sure it would be welcome. “You are—” he takes in the vest, on but not zipped, the saber, Ben’s feet which are half-stuffed into his boots. “On your way somewhere?”

“There was a knock.” Ben feels foolish saying even this much, but it doesn’t stop him from continuing. “Boba would just come in. And it’s my rest day. No one would knock unless there was a problem.”

Cody does touch now, laying his hand over Ben’s forearm. His forehead wrinkles at the tension which thrums through Ben’s muscles. “It is your rest day. I came to see if you wanted to visit the hot springs.”

“Ah.” Ben has overreacted then. He pulls back and immediately regrets it as he loses contact with Cody. This close from a session with Healer Bisu, he can hear her scolding him for self-punishment. He isn’t supposed to deny himself things he wants because of a misguided sense of atonement. She constantly reminds him he doesn’t need to atone for his existence.

“I’m not very good company right now.” Ben’s voice cracks and he turns away as he hangs his vest back where it belongs. He rubs his thumb over the familiar hilt of his saber and can’t bring himself to unclip it yet. With his other hand, he scrubs at his face as if he can hide the red rimming his eyes.

“The offer still stands,” Cody says.

“You are a good man,” Ben tells him. Better than I deserve, he adds in his head. Healer Bisu scolds him again. It is not about deserving, Ben. People don’t have to earn affection. They shouldn’t have to, she means. Ben’s experience has taught him affection must certainly be earned. Through careful attentiveness to Jinn’s needs. Through providing refugees with what they need. By folding gracefully to his knees and offering a playful smile before pleasing a lover.

“I try,” Cody says. He waits, patiently, as Ben pulls himself together enough for a trip to the springs. They’ve found a multitude of them which means there are often some with fewer people or none at all. Ben uses the Force to find a hot spring with no other occupants.

“If you’d rather,” Ben begins, but he can’t quite bring himself to finish. He doesn’t want Cody to leave him on his own.

“This is good,” Cody says. He turns his back and strips down with a soldier’s efficiency.

Ben does the same, grateful for the privacy as he bares scar-covered skin. He’s submerged to his neck by the time Cody turns around. The heat of the water is the perfect balm on his aching psyche. Ben tips his head back and closes his eyes.

“Thank you,” he says. “This was much needed.”

“Is everything alright?”

“I had a session today. Healer Bisu and I revisited my inability to find a home. It is nothing new and nothing to be concerned with. Boba moving out simply brought some things to the surface. I have complete faith in Healer Bisu’s ability to help me accept and overcome my feelings.”

“I thought I was going to die in the war,” Cody says. When Ben cracks his eyes open, he sees Cody mirrored his posture, head tipped back, eyes closed. “There were days I wanted to. A stray blaster bolt, an ion cannon, there were hundreds of ways it could happen. Healer Maradon says it’s common. I wasn’t hoping to die but to be absolved of my responsibility and any guilt I might have for giving it up.”

Ben did his research. Commander Cody was the highest ranked trooper and, if he read between the lines correctly, he ranked even higher than most Jedi. The number of lives he was responsible for was staggering. And now, even creating a civilian life, he’s kept that same responsibility. A good man, indeed.

“I’m glad I lived. Here, when I feel overwhelmed by the weight of what needs to be done, there are a dozen different people I can ask to shoulder some of it. For the first time, I don’t feel as though I’m trying to keep my brothers from dying. I’m helping them learn to live. You’re an integral part of it. You have no idea what an immense relief it is that I don’t have to know everything. When I falter, because I don’t know which seed crops to order, you step in and answer. What I’m trying to say is…” Cody clears his throat. “You’re welcome here as long as you desire. We won’t reassign you or send you away. The choice is yours.”

Ben’s shields, weak after his session with Healer Bisu, stand no chance against Cody’s words. Hope, longing, a soul-deep desire to be home, all rush through him. It leaves him wet-eyed and off-balance.

“Thank you,” he manages, after far too long. It’s an inadequate response but Cody doesn’t push for more.

#

“How are you doing?” Bail asks. He grins and holds up a hand to forestall Ben’s response. “I have your reports, I know how the settlement is. How are you?”

“Happy,” Ben answers. He isn’t sure whether to be pleased at surprising Bail or saddened that Bail’s surprised by his answer. “This is challenging, but it’s rewarding. Everywhere brims with hope. I may never leave.” He laughs as though it’s a joke, as if he isn’t testing out the words to see if they feel right enough to be true.

“The Hasiera Council has invited the committee to your first harvest festival,” Bail says.

“You should come. Padmé too. Tell her to bring her husband and her twins if they’re old enough to travel.”

“I’m not sure whether you’re using me to meet your niece and nephew or because you want Alderaanian wine to flow freely.”

“It’s a celebration, Bail.” Ben laughs, lighter and happier than he’s felt in quite some time. He’s developed a pleasant routine. He spends each morning in meditation and then at the rec center. He’s gone from training Boba and two friends in staves to having a full group of twenty. After training, he eats with Boba in the commissary, often with others dropping by to join them.

The morning is a mix of meetings and work. He takes second meal with Cody, Rex, and the rest of the higher ranked troopers. The afternoon is more meetings and work, followed by late meal and then some quiet time before he goes to bed. There is still a lot to do but the pace has calmed. When he imagines a future where every day follows this pattern, he’s excited by the prospect rather than exhausted.

“I’m happy for you,” Bail says softly, affection filling his words. “Did you know, I was worried you and Cody would butt heads? Two competent people used to being in charge, I thought there would be bloodshed.”

“We complement each other,” Ben says. “He works too hard, though.”

Bail snorts and then dissolves into laughter. Eventually, Ben has to hang up on him, because his amusem*nt is, quite frankly, insulting.

#

Ben’s in the hangar when the shuttle arrives, because he and the pilot sometimes hook up when their schedules and inclinations line up. He and Healer Bisu have discussed this as well, how he gravitates toward partners who discourage commitment. She didn’t appreciate his comment about how his longest lasting partner, his right hand, has been with him throughout his entire sexual awakening.

His hopes for a bit of fun before the pilot has to leave again are dashed when he feels a ripple in the Force. There’s someone on the shuttle. A Force sensitive someone who is attempting to hide themselves. It isn’t a particularly skilled job, but he’s sure it was enough to fool those on the ship.

Were they hoping the troopers wouldn’t notice either? Bail would have warned them if the Jedi Order was coming for an inspection. Which means intruder.

He taps his comm, something he insisted on even if the troopers have an encrypted channel they’ve asked him to keep off.

“Cody, here.”

“I need a security team to the hangar bay,” Ben says quietly so he doesn’t alarm anyone around him or spook their stowaway.

“Noted,” Cody says.

By the time the shuttle has landed, Cody, Rex, and a team of troopers have arrived. They’re all in armor and Ben can feel the unease of the others around them as they recognize the change in routine.

“They’re a Force user,” Ben tells Cody and Rex. “Let me go in first.”

Cody isn’t pleased but he agrees. He goes to the console and Jax obligingly steps aside so Cody can have access to the communications. Cody opens the channel to the shuttle. “Good afternoon, Huckler. We’re looking forward to your shipment. But first, why don’t you and your crew come to our table? I’m sure you’re eager for fresh air and fresh food.”

There’s a pause as Huckler no doubt wonders about the deviation from their usual. But he was chosen for a reason so he says, “We sure are. You’re going to be our favorite trip if you keep this up.”

It’s a tense few minutes as they wait for Huckler and the five-person crew to come down the landing ramp. They approach Cody and Ben, and Huckler looks between the two of them as if he isn’t sure who to address.

“These are the only sentients on your ship?” Ben asks.

“Just us,” Huckler answers, truth ringing in the Force. He grows visibly uneasy at Ben’s stare. “That I know of.”

“Hmm,” Ben says. He glances at Cody. “May I?”

Cody gestures to give him the go ahead. Ben unclips his saber and feels the tension ratchet up another degree around him. He strides up the ramp and casts out his senses. There is definitely another sentient onboard. They’re a ball of confusion and fear and hard determination. He doesn’t sense any malicious intention, but those backed into a corner are often a threat.

“I know you’re here,” Ben calls out. “You have lost your element of surprise. You may as well reveal yourself and disclose your purpose for hitching a ride to Hasiera.”

He doesn’t expect it to work, but maybe he was right about desperation being the sentient’s main motivation. There’s some scuffling before one of the vent grates clangs to the floor. A moment later, a Togruta drops to her feet in front of him. She has the grace and poise of a Jedi, but her suspicion and battle stance speak to a hard life.

“I am Ben Lars,” he tells her. “And who might you be?”

“Ahsoka Tano.” She tips her chin up, feigning confidence. “I want to speak with Captain Rex.”

“You understand I can’t allow an unannounced unexpected visitor to meet with one of our councilors while armed.” Ben holds a hand out. She scowls but slaps a saber in his palm. He clears his throat. “Both of them, if you please.”

The scowl shifts into a frightened expression. Ben’s empathy battles with his duty to the settlement. He knows too well the fear of giving up his weapons, and he doesn’t want to put her through the same experience, but he will not allow her to bring any harm here.

After a tense stand-off, he almost kicks himself. He taps the comm on his ear. “Is a Togruta Jedi who dual wields and goes by Ahsoka Tano familiar to you?” He asks.

The wave of relief and excitement and hope which washes through him is enough of an answer. He wordlessly hands the young woman her saber back and steps aside. She snatches it from him and sprints down the ramp, her reservations gone. Ben follows at a more sedate pace. He witnesses her fling herself at Rex, bowling the sturdy man over as she hugs him, uncaring of the sharp, hard edges of his armor.

Cody drifts to Ben’s side as other troopers descend on the pair, exclamations of surprise and then welcome abounding as they all try to hug the newcomer.

“I suspect there is a story here,” Ben says.

“I’m surprised you haven’t heard it,” Cody says. “She was framed for a crime she didn’t commit. Because of the number and significance of the deaths, she was slated to be executed without a trial. She escaped custody. She was exonerated for the explosion but no one’s heard from her since she escaped.”

Ben watches Tano bounce from man to man, laughing and sharing smiles and jokes, clearly comfortable with these people. There will be complications in allowing her to stay. While she may have been exonerated for the original crime, escaping custody is a crime in and of itself. He wonders if the Jedi Order will defend her now as they should have then.

“Her name sounds familiar,” Ben says.

“She was General Skywalker’s padawan,” Cody says.

“Curious how an escaping prisoner on death row managed to obtain both her lightsabers,” Ben says.

“Curious,” Cody agrees, all but confirming he assisted with or knows who assisted with her escape.

“We’ll need to convene an emergency council session,” Ben says. “It won’t take long for word to spread that she’s come here. There are choices but you’ll need to decide on them quickly.”

“We will not allow harm to come to her again.”

Ben’s chest aches at the fierce determination in Cody’s tone. Ahsoka Tano is clearly one of them, a brother despite their differences. He’s ashamed at being jealous of a young woman on the run and betrayed by the people she trusted to protect her. “I never thought you would. I’ll prepare the options. You should spend time with your friend.”

Cody reaches out and clasps Ben’s hand before he can go far. Cody’s gauntlets shield them from skin-to-skin contact, but the touch still warms Ben all the way through. “She should meet you properly. It will be good for her to know there are Jedi outside the Order.”

Despite the grip he has on Ben’s hand, Cody doesn’t move until Ben nods. They approach Ahsoka together. The young woman glances at their joined hands and then, for the first time, notes the saber clipped to Ben’s belt. She shies back, defensive and then counters it by holding her own sabers in each hand.

“I’m not here to harm you,” Ben promises. He shakes himself loose from Cody’s grip so he can hold his hands out, palm up. “I am not a Jedi knight. I serve in the AgriCorps. I’m here on Hasiera to assist with the settlement.”

“I came here because I knew Captain Rex would protect me.” Tano shifts closer to Rex, aligning herself with him. Unsurprisingly, Rex mirrors her position, aligning himself with her in return.

“He is a good friend and ally to have,” Ben says. He looks Tano over and frowns at what he sees. “We should have this discussion over food. You are undernourished.”

“Dodging Judicial hasn’t been easy.”

“And Jedi have no possessions meaning no resources for you to draw on while you were on the run.” Ben offers her what he hopes is a comforting smile. “I’m sure Captain Rex would be happy to show you to the commissary and then work with the quartermaster to find you a place to stay.”

“What will you be doing?” Ahsoka’s suspicion is warranted.

Ben gestures to the shuttle crew. “We promised them a meal, and I intend to honor that promise.” He and Huckler exchange a look, conveying both their regret and understanding that there won’t be a hook-up on this visit.

“How did you see through my camouflage?” Tano asks. “Skyguy says Corps workers are all rejects who weren’t skilled enough to cut it as Jedi.” Rex cuffs her, and Tano scowls at him and rubs her ear. “What? Oh.” She glances at Ben, shy again. “Sorry. That was rude.”

“A common misconception,” Ben answers. “But one with some truth in it. I was found unfit to be a Jedi knight. But there are many other tracks for a Jedi to take.”

Ahsoka ducks her head, chastised. “Sorry again. Do I call you Master Lars?”

“No, just Ben is fine. I am not a Jedi knight and, if I understand correctly, you aren’t either.”

“The Order failed me, so I’m done with them.”

“Then we are equals.” Ben holds his hand out to her. “It is a pleasure to meet you Ahsoka Tano.”

She giggles as she clasps his hand and shakes it. “You talk funny, Ben Lars.”

“Too much time around politicians, I’m afraid.” He squeezes her hand once before letting go. “Now, I’m sure Captain Rex wants to hear about your recent experiences. Food and then a trip to the healers for you. I, of course, will accept the burden of entertaining our other guests.”

“Burden?” Huckler snorts. “What happened to all your pretty words, Lars?”

“I seem to have lost them.” He shrugs. “I’ll have to make do with my pretty looks.”

Tano laughs again. She loops her arm through Rex’s and allows him to lead her from the hangar. Several of the troopers go with them. Ben realizes they must be ones she served with while she was Anakin’s padawan.

Force help him. A rogue Jedi, who is his half-brother’s padawan and his ex-master’s grandpadawan. Ben’s smile slips from his face. A headache blooms behind his eyes. He pinches the bridge of his nose as if it will help stave it off.

“Any chance we don’t have to tell anyone we had an uncaught stowaway?” Huckler asks.

“Can you help us make sure this doesn’t happen again?” Huckler asks.

“There are some security measures you can put into place.” Ben rubs at his beard, neatly trimmed. “She’s quite advanced in shielding herself. Most Force users you’ll encounter won’t have her level of skill.”

“Or yours?” Huckler asks.

“I’ve lived in warzones almost my entire life,” Ben answers. “Camouflage was a necessary skill. One I learned early and have improved in since.”

“How early?” Cody asks.

Ben thinks about Melida/Daan and how he’d shield himself in shadows to eavesdrop on enemy conversations, to sneak food for their band of fighters, so they could launch a surprise attack. He has a scar on his leg from when his concentration slipped, and he was discovered before he intended to be. “After I left the Order.”

Cody doesn’t push for more even though his curiosity is obvious in the Force.

Chapter 7

Chapter Text

Ahsoka and Boba do not get along. Ben should have predicted this. They’re both accepted by the troopers while not being one of them, and each feels threatened by the other. Part of it, Ben suspects, is Ahsoka testing boundaries, seeing what she can do and who she can offend without Captain Rex threatening to toss her out.

She shows up to staff training on her sixth day on Hasiera with a smirk and both her sabers clipped to her belt.

“If you’d like to join us, we begin with ten laps around the room and stretching,” Ben says. Boba scowls but he doesn’t throw a tantrum. Ben will have to revisit the possibility of day trips with Boba on their rest days. Ahsoka is hurting, and Ben can help her, but he doesn’t want to hurt Boba in the process.

Ahsoka shrugs and joins Cupcake and Foil as they run by her. Foil runs two extra laps to keep her company and then pairs with her for their stretching.

“Rex says you meditate each morning,” Ahsoka says, directing her statement to Ben.

Boba does a terrible job pretending not to listen in. Ben will have to review subtlety and espionage with him. Maybe they can add it to their saber training while they’re away from the settlement.

“I do. There’s a Wellspring here. I find it a good way to start each day. You’re welcome to join me if you’d like.”

“Skyguy’s the only master I want,” she says.

“I have no wish to take his place. Nor do I believe I’m qualified to complete your Jedi knight training as I never completed it myself. But I am more than willing to assist you in the areas I am proficient in.”

“Can we spar?” Ahsoka can’t keep her longing out of her voice or posture, her entire body straining with the effort to hold still. He imagines it wasn’t safe for her to ignite her sabers while she was on the run. He’s familiar with the itch that comes form not using his saber for an extended period of time.

He also knows this is what’s most likely to set Boba off. “Today, we’re working with staves. Let me do some reading on jar’kai and then we can revisit the possibility of sparring.”

Ahsoka isn’t satisfied with his answer, but she doesn’t argue. Ben drags a hand over his face and does his own loops of the room while the others stretch. As they shift into their katas, he shifts into his stretching, able to observe and comment from his position on the floor.

When he joins them in the next drill, Ahsoka’s impatience bursts into surprise.

“These patterns inform every stance and style you might practice,” Ben says. “I haven’t fought in a war like you or your fellow knights, but I have remained proficient with my saber because I keep good habits.”

He moves through his forms, naming which saber forms they are most similar to. By the time he’s finished, none of his trainees are focused on their own work, all too busy watching him.

“You make it look like a dance,” Ahsoka says. “Skyguy is powerful and Master Jinn is efficient but you’re…” She pauses as she searches for the word she wants.

“The best,” Boba says with a stubborn set to his chin. “Better than your generals, anyway.”

“I very much doubt that,” Ben says. “And I have no intention of ever testing your claim. My skill is sufficient for the life I live.”

“You’re better than her too.” Boba’s eyes flash with something dark. “Even though you’re a Temple reject with no skill.”

Ahsoka looks away, her aura tinged with shame. “I did say I’m sorry about that. I know better now. But Skyguy is better than you. He’s better than everyone.”

“As I said, I have no desire to compete against the Hero without Fear.” Ben smiles to soothe Ahsoka’s feelings. And then, because the Force nudges him to act, he says, “Boba and Ahsoka, I’d like you to pair up for our next exercise.”

“Um,” Foil begins as if he doesn’t think Ben’s noticed the tension between them.

“Skill comes in many forms,” Ben says, embracing the teachable moment. “True mastery of an art is not only its execution but also restraint. Boba and Ahsoka, if you lose sight of your focus in favor of outdoing the other, you will not succeed in the exercise. You may also harm each other. And while there is conflict between you, I don’t believe you want to see each other hurt. Please correct me if I’m wrong before I put weapons in your hands and let you at each other.”

“No, buir.” Boba grumbles at his feet, but Ben trusts he’ll put in his full effort without trying to hurt his partner.

“My intent is to learn, not to harm,” Ahsoka says.

Ben nods. “Boba, you’ve been wanting to see other styles. Ahsoka, please select two short staves, whichever feel as close to your sabers as you can find.”

Ahsoka grins and bounds over to the weapon cabinet. Boba hesitates a moment before he follows her, quietly directing her toward the one with the shorter weapons. She doesn’t grow defensive, and he doesn’t grow smug. In fact, as Ahsoka trails her fingers over the offering of staves, she says, “I’m sorry about what I said about your buir. He is a real Jedi. Just like you’re a real brother.”

Ben’s reasonably sure he’s the only one who can hear the quiet conversation. Which means he’s the only one holding his breath in anticipation of Boba’s response.

Finally, it comes, even quieter than Ahsoka’s confessions. “Does that mean you’re my sister?”

Ahsoka’s happiness ripples through the room and brings a smile to Ben’s face. He catches a hint of mischief before she says. “Yeah, but I’m your older sister. Which means I get to boss you around.”

Boba considers this. “Okay.” He grins at her surprise. “This means I’m your younger brother.” He pinches her side and then laughs at her yelp and jumps out of her reach. “No take backs now.”

“Sir?” Foil asks as Boba and Ahsoka forget their mission to pick out staves and instead chase each other around the room.

“Let them wear each other out,” Ben says with a smile. “It’s better to train tired. And please, call me Ben.”

#

Ahsoka become a daily participant in morning training, and she joins them for first meal as well. As far as the rumors tell, the two have become fast friends and are using their new alliance to cause mischief. Ben gave Boba three rules; no one is to be harmed, no work is to be disrupted, and if he’s caught, he must serve his punishment without complaint.

On Ben’s next rest day, he surprises Boba with a hike into the mountains. It’s hard, sweaty work, but they find a flattish bit of land to practice their sabers. It’s a long walk back, both of them tired, and Ben quietly draws on the Force to boost them both.

He sleeps better that night than he can remember in a long time.

#

Ahsoka has been with them for two months when Ben finally agrees to properly spar with her. Cody declares it a rest day for everyone. Everyone has their morning duties and then what seems like the entire city turns out for the spar.

He and Ahsoka are both calm as they go through their warm-ups. He can sense Ahsoka’s confidence. He knows it isn’t misplaced. He’s worked with her enough to see her skill. While she was a senior padawan when she left the Order, she learned on the battlefield. He knows she is skilled and has the endurance for a long spar.

He’s calm because this is simply an opportunity for a proper fight. He doesn’t have anything to prove. If he loses to her, and it’s a likely possibility, he may be teased for it, but he’s a farmer not a fighter. He’s more concerned with his ability to stay in the correct headspace.

He has spoken with Healer Bisu at length on the subject. Because he also learned via action more often than training. He’s fought for his life more often than he’s sparred. If he isn’t doing a drill, if there’s another person with a blade in their hands will he remember he isn’t in danger?

Healer Bisu is confident he will. Ben isn’t as sure, but he trusts her. He will make the attempt, and if he’s a danger to anyone, he’ll end the spar and weather the disappointed audience.

“Are you ready yet?” Ahsoka asks. She bounces on her toes, less to limber up and more because of an excess of energy.

Ben responds by stepping into position. She mirrors him, and they bow to each other. Ahsoka ignites both her sabers and jumps on the offensive right away. He blocks with his saber. As he suspected, using two blades means she’s faster but she isn’t as strong. An attack like this from Boba would send tremors up his arms. With Ahsoka, he has to react quicker, but she’s less likely overpower him. Only overwhelm him.

Ben stays on the defensive, allows her to move him around the ring as he gets a feel for her fighting style. He had a good idea from sparring with staves and watching her train, but there are subtle differences. He suspects she’s also affected by similar memories as he is. A live saber means danger, means a fight for survival, not for fun.

Ahsoka catches his saber between hers and gives him a look of triumph as if she has him pinned. He turns his blade off and grins as her sabers grind against each other. He drops, rolls, and when he pops to his feet, his saber glows green again.

“You turned your saber off!” She looks a mix between horrified and offended, as if she can’t believe when he’d do that.

He doesn’t take advantage of her surprise. Instead, wanting to remind them both this is fun, he uses the Force to hit the switch on her left saber. It powers down and he flashes her a smile. “Yours too.”

“You!” She narrows her eyes and powers her saber back on. She directs a portion of her attention to keeping the blades ignited so he can’t pull the same trick while they’re fighting. The fact that it barely affects her offensive charge speaks volumes to her training and discipline.

It’s Ben’s turn to chase her around the room. Ahsoka is nimble on defense as well, but it’s clear she isn’t used to one-on-one fighting like this. He supposes she wouldn’t be, since she always had Anakin or troopers at her side.

Ahsoka slides under his guard and surprises him, her blades pressing down on his. He can feel the heat of them, can smell his hairs beginning to singe. For a moment, he sees red in his vision. With a burst of strength, he shoves. Ahsoka goes with it, tumbling mid-air and landing gracefully on her feet.

He barely gives her enough time to find her balance before he charges. It’s his turn to show his speed and maneuverability. Even with two blades, she can barely keep up. When he knocks one of them away, it rolls out of reach. She darts a hand out to call it back to her. He catches her wrist and then uses his grip to spin her and press her face first into the mat.

“This is what Jedi forget,” Ben says softly, but his voice is still loud in the silence. “There are weapons besides sabers and advantages aside from the Force.”

Ahsoka considers this and then twists to she’s facing him. “Best two out of three?”

#

Ben’s muscles ache by the end of his spar with Ahsoka. He won three of their five bouts, but her last victory was so decisive he knows he is old and out of shape. He agrees to a soak in the hot springs and even leans on Cody as the group of them make their way to the caves.

His eyes are heavy and his steps even heavier. Perhaps he’ll take a nap in the pools. There are enough people here to make sure he doesn’t slip under the surface and drown. He redirects Cody to the hot spring closest to the Wellspring. The hum of the Force soothes his psyche even as the hot water soothes his body.

“This is paradise,” he tells Cody, solemnly and seriously as he tips his head back and closes his eyes.

“It doesn’t take much to make you happy,” Cody says.

Right now, it’s only the two of them, the rest of the group trailing behind. Or maybe they were ahead and Ben chose a pool they weren’t already in. Conscious thought slips away from him at a rapid pace, like water tumbling over a falls.

“It doesn’t,” Ben agrees. Bail commented on it once. Fresh air, a small garden, and a glass of wine. Bail didn’t have to woo him with gifts or seduce him with rich foods and silky fabrics. Perhaps it was Ben’s Jedi upbringing, perhaps it’s a life spent living with only what he can carry, but Ben’s needs are basic, and his wants are all easily attainable.

Most of them anyway.

A comfortable bed. A hot bath. Plentiful food which meets his body’s nutritional needs.

A home.

Ben allows the ebbs and flow of the Force to wash away the intrusive thought, the one which threatens to drag his mood down. He remembers he was mid-conversation and struggles to assemble his thoughts in order again. “The simpler one’s wants, the more often they will be happy.”

“And are you happy?” Cody asks.

“Most of the time.” Ben, feeling the weight of this moment, opens his eyes. Cody watches him, his gaze intent and piercing without his helmet to deflect the strength of it. “And you?”

Cody pauses to consider his answer. “I am content. It’s more than I thought I would have. But I don’t believe I’m happy yet.”

A failing of some kind, and one Ben intends to correct. “What does it take you make you happy?” Ben asks. He’ll grow flowers in the boxes fixed to his windows and present the fresh blooms to Cody when they smell the sweetest. He’ll grow the spices which make his eyes water simply being near them, but which Cody and his brothers sprinkle on all of their food. Whatever it is, if it’s in his power to give, he will.

He doesn’t realize he’s said the last part out loud until Cody’s face softens, armor falling away and leaving him open and vulnerable. It’s only a moment, short enough Ben might have imagined it.

“My wants are not as simple as yours,” Cody answers with a finality Ben doesn’t push against.

He is curious, though. Perhaps experimentation is in order. He closes his eyes again and drifts to sleep, planning both small and elaborate gifts to present Cody with in order to determine what sparks the greatest joy in the other man.

#

Ben wakes to the low murmur of voices. The Force around him is bright and bubbly, and it chases the lethargy from his limbs. He’s refreshed, body and spirit, and he stretches his arms above his head and grins as there’s barely any pull in his muscles.

“Aw,” Ahsoka says, whining a little. “We were taking bets on who was going to have to wake you up, old man.”

Ben feels muted embarrassment from someone, but he can’t pinpoint who. While he was sleeping, Ahsoka, Rex, Boil, Waxer, and Trapper joined him and Cody in the pool. Boba is here too, but he sits on the edge of the water. His legs are in the water up to his knees but no more. The heat affects him quickly, leaving him flushed and nauseous if he submerges himself or remains too long.

Ben smiles at Ahsoka’s playful complaining. Boba’s presence, as familiar to Ben as his own, prickles with irritation. While he and Ahsoka have now declared each other siblings and lost much of the hostility that marked their early relationship, they still have a talent for needling each other.

“You aren’t old,” Boba says when Ben shows no inclination to defend himself.

“My ad’ika is grown and has left my house, and I leave a single sparring session with creaking joints and aching muscles. I am old. It is a fact, not a character failing.”

“You were good,” Ahsoka says and it isn’t a compliment so much as an accusation. She exudes curiosity, and, this close to the Wellspring, it’s almost suffocating as the Force takes what’s here and magnifies it tenfold. “You pretended you weren’t.”

“Hardly,” Ben says. He stretches his arms out across the lip of the pool. With so many of them here, his fingers accidently brush Cody’s head. He adjusts his positioning with a murmured apology. About to apologize to Trapper as well, who is on his right, he realizes his fingers didn’t drift toward him. Only Cody. “It wasn’t false modesty or deceit. I knew what to expect of my skills, and I had an idea in my head of yours, skills forged in the war, but I wasn’t certain. I was cautious.”

“You were better than me.” She pouts a little as if she isn’t used to it.

Rex chuckles and flicks her bare shoulder. “There’s General Skywalker’s influence.”

Ben considers his next words. Does he threaten the easy peace of the pools? Does he try to give her the honest, perhaps unwanted answer to her questions? “We have different strengths,” Ben finally says. “You learned to fight on the battlefield. Your endurance is better than mine, a product of training and age. But you’re more accustomed to fighting against a large force with a large force at your side as well. My life has prepared me better to fight one-on-one.” Ben offers an apologetic smile. “There are weaknesses in your defense which I suspect were often covered by General Skywalker or even Captain Rex and his men.”

“So next time Rex and I should take on you and Boba?” Ahsoka asks.

Boba perks up, and Ben can practically see his vision of dueling Ahsoka, revealing his darksaber for the first time.

“I suppose it depends on what you’re looking for,” Ben answers. “If you want to improve your lightsaber skills, then no. I’m sure your and Captain Rex’s skills complement each other. But, as I said before, you cover for each other’s weaknesses which means you won’t grow. If you want an easier victory, because you think paired fighting favors yourself over me, I’m not sure this is the avenue to pursue. Just as you and Captain Rex forged a partnership in battle, Boba and I have fought side-by-side many times. However, I don’t believe it’s a good idea.”

Ahsoka and Boba both deflate at the same time. Ben would laugh but he’s aware of and careful of their young pride.

“Boba and I train against each other, but when we fight together, it’s never in a casual setting,” Ben says. “I suspect it is similar for you and Captain Rex. Even with our sabers and blasters set to stun, I wouldn’t want to risk a flashback or battle-mind in the midst of a friendly spar.”

“But you didn’t fight in the war,” Ahsoka says.

Rex grimaces as if he knows it was a naïve thing to say. Ben reminds himself Ahsoka is still young. Even if in years she’s growing, she didn’t have a typical education or childhood. She grew up on the frontlines. Her world is most likely divided into solider and civilian, and she slots Ben into the latter category.

“I didn’t. But I fought in its wake. Planets scarred by campaigns, people uprooted by invasion, civil wars sparked by the chaos of the galaxy at large. Refugee resettlement isn’t always as peaceful as this.” Ben gestures around them. “Often there are slavers looking for vulnerable prey, there are starving people willing to kill over a scrap of bread. I didn’t see the war the way you did, but I have still fought. So has Boba.”

Ben’s hands clench and unclench around empty air. It takes considerable effort to keep from lifting and manipulating the small pebbles around him. Cody shifts and it presses the back of his neck against Ben’s hand. There’s a spark at the contact, and Ben’s about to pull away when he realizes Cody initiated it.

It’s a comfort and a kindness, and he accepts the gift by curling his fingers lightly around Cody’s neck. His skin is warm, and Ben can both feel and hear the thrum of his pulse, strong and steady in his neck.

“We train with staves so often, because I’ve never killed someone with one,” Boba says quietly. He speaks his words to his lap and gently kicks his feet in the water, creating tiny ripples.

Trapper shifts until he can press his shoulder against Boba’s knee. Boba’s surprise pings in the Force and on his face, but it settles after a moment and he leans into the touch.

“It’s difficult,” Rex says, his voice rusty and reluctant. “For the most part, we fought droids. We had competitions to see who could take the most out. It was easy to pretend they didn’t matter; just scraps of metal and programming. It made it easy. Point and shoot. Occasionally duck. And then we fought our first battle against sentients.” He swallows thickly, nightmares haunting his eyes.

He doesn’t finish, but Ben can imagine the direction of his thoughts. Ben is fortunate that he hasn’t had to kill many people in his life. He doesn’t know how the Jedi Generals did it, feeling the life pop out of existence; their men and the people they fought against.

Once, he was close to another being when they died. It was a like a hole torn in the Force. It tried to suck him in, tried to take him as well, as punishment for his action. He rubs at his chest and an old injury which doesn’t hurt anymore except in his head.

He doesn’t realize what he’s called attention to until the room goes still around him.

“That’s a lightsaber burn,” Ahsoka says.

Ben looks down and mentally curses himself for having forgotten where he was. Normally, he stays submerged up to his neck, hiding his various scars. And he bathes alone or, when Cody joins him, the other is always polite enough to turn his back.

Ben touches the starburst scar, where it stretches thin and silky across his sternum. “It is.”

The suspicion is thick enough for him to choke on. He knows they want, and quite possibly deserve, an explanation, but it’s a subject he’s loathe to speak on. Without Ben having to say a word, Boba stands and moves over until he’s sitting behind Ben. He dangles his feet in the water on either side of Ben’s shoulders. He offers protection and acceptance and even an ally should Ben need it.

Ben turns his face into Boba’s thigh and takes a steadying breath. “When I was younger, I was kidnapped by a Force user. He had been turned out of the Order, and he was angry and dangerous and quite destructive. At first, he only wanted to hurt me.”

What a simple, clinical summary of hell. Ben remembers waking in a holding cell. He was groggy, and his head ached. He remembered going to market to bargain for parts for a vaporator. The Force hadn’t even had time to warn him before he was attacked. His captor was clearly unbalanced. He was fury and spite, graceful in the way he paced outside of Ben’s cell and cruel in his deprivation. Food, water, sleep, the Force itself.

“His own pain was staggering, and he thought the only way to excise it was to transfer it to someone else. Eventually, I persuaded him to try a different approach. The AgriCorps didn’t have the resources to find me. I could die his prisoner or I could escape. He wanted to be a Jedi Master, the most powerful of them all. I convinced him to train me, because no Jedi could achieve masterhood without an apprentice.”

Ahsoka gasps. “You apprenticed to a Sith?”

“He was Fallen.” The Force crackled around him like lightning, capable of striking at any time. His saber glowed red and sometimes his eyes would flash yellow. “I don’t know enough about the Sith to know if he was one. He embraced the darkside. And he was too smart to completely embrace me. He dubbed me his padawan and released me from my cell with a Force collar attached to my neck.”

Ben drags his left hand down his face and curls his right hand around Boba’s ankle. He draws on Boba’s love, and it keeps the worst of Ben’s memories at bay.

“Without the Force to aid me, I was a poor student. I have several lightsaber burns on my body. Most are from sparring against someone who didn’t lower the power setting on their saber. This one.” Ben taps his chest. “He liked to hold his saber to my skin and see if I would flinch. Fear leads to hate. He liked to ask if I hated him yet.”

“Did you?” Rex asks.

Ben shakes his head. “I pitied him.”

“How did you escape?” Ahsoka asks.

Ben grips Boba’s ankle tightly for a moment before he forces himself to relax. “He was…unstable. It meant he was unpredictable and powerful, but it also meant he sometimes made mistakes. We were sparring, me in a Force collar with a training saber, and him with his full-powered blade. I disarmed him. And then I drove his own saber through his chest. Five days later, Judicial broke in and found me. They’d been tracking him for years, apparently. But between the Force and his personal connections, they were never able to apprehend him. My actions were declared self-defense, I was assigned mandatory mind healing sessions, and they wrote me into the official report as an anonymous captive who assisted from the inside.”

Ahsoka’s gasp echoes through the chamber. “You were taken by Xanatos?”

He should have expected her to know the name and the story, but part of him figured Jinn kept quiet on his second padawan. Ben flinches at Xanatos’s name and then he grows angry at his own reaction. It has been years and the man is dead, his life ended at Ben’s own hand. A name can’t harm him. Shouldn’t harm him.

“My grandmaster trained him,” Ahsoka says, either confessing to Ben something she thinks he doesn’t know or explaining to the troops. “They called him—”

“Don’t,” Ben orders, perhaps too forceful, because the water vibrates with his desperation. He takes a deep breath and searches for any kind of calm. “Please, don’t call him that.”

He knows what she was about to say. Qui-Gon Jinn’s lost padawan. It sounds nicer than Fallen. But it’s what Xanatos said when Ben first woke up. We’re Qui-Gon Jinn’s lost padawans. But now we’ve been found. Old terror fills Ben’s stomach and his mind. He remembers the moment he realized this was planned. Xanatos had sought him out specifically. Jinn couldn’t be bothered, the Jedi never tried, but a Fallen, failed apprentice searched the galaxy for Ben and found him.

“You sent Master Jinn his braid.” Ahsoka’s voice is quiet now, soft as if she’s afraid of spooking him again. “He said he received a copy of the report along with the braid. He still has it.”

“Closure.” Xanatos still had his braid, hidden in his long tresses. Ben doesn’t like to think of Xanatos’s desperation or the pain which caused him to keep growing it. Xanatos hated Qui-Gon Jinn, wanted to find him, and make him suffer and yet he still carefully maintained his padawan braid.

He was a cautionary tale, and one Ben’s taken to heart.

“How did you know?” Cody asks. And of course it is Cody with his sharp mind who picks up on the small details.

Ben’s laugh is bitter but not nearly as bitter as he feels. “I was cast out of the Order for being too angry and too volatile. Xanatos du Crion’s shadow hung over the Temple. They sent me away afraid I would become like him if I was trained.” Jinn certainly feared Ben and the possibility of losing another apprentice. It was probably a relief when Ben turned his back on him on Melida/Daan. He took Ben out of obligation and was all too glad to let him walk away.

“You aren’t,” Ahoska says, as if he needs the confirmation.

“I am not Xanatos. I am Ben Lars, a deep space farmer.”

“My buir,” Boba adds.

Chapter 8

Chapter Text

Their morning meeting is interrupted by an emergency.

“Not that kind,” Wolffe says as Cody, Rex, and the rest of the brothers reach for their weapons. His blue holo-image flickers, as he turns to find Ben amongst the group. “There was a flash flood. It overran the levees.”

Ben nods as he stands. “I’ll pack a bag and be at New Dawn before second meal.”

Wolffe oversees the third city and their agricultural hub. Ben hasn’t worked extensively with him yet, but he suspects he will have the opportunity now. He doesn’t bother with pleasantries or polite goodbyes. He jogs to his quarters, grabs his go-bag and his emergency kit. He leaves a note for Boba and then jogs to the hangar.

Fives has a shuttle already running.

The first phase of settlement has cities planned all within a day’s shuttle ride from Jangolare. Towns will pop up between them, accessible by speeder and, with time, a public transportation system will connect the planet.

For now, Ben accepts Fives’s piloting. He sits in the co*ckpit and alternates between sipping from his travel mug of tea and meditating. It is as restful as he’ll be for the foreseeable future.

They land in New Dawn’s hangar despite Ben’s argument that he could do a Force-assisted jump over the affected land. When he suggested it, Fives gave him an unimpressed look and reaffirmed with New Dawn that they would be landing shortly.

Wolffe greets them as they come off the shuttle. His hair has already started going gray, and there are deep lines around his face which all suggest a difficult life. His right eye is cybernetic, and it tracks Ben’s approach with interest.

“Ben Lars, AgriCorps Specialist,” Ben greets. “I’ll assess the damage and then draw up the plan.”

“We’ve collected visual and written data,” Wolffe reports and Ben sees the flicker of the man on the bridge of a star destroyer, reporting to his general.

“It’s appreciated but I’d like to see it for myself before I begin reading reports.”

“I’ll accompany you.” Wolffe gestures and two men fall in on either side of him. “Comet and Sinker.”

Ben nods to each in turn and then follows Wolffe to the part of the hangar dedicated to land vehicles. Fives hops into the driver’s seat and pointedly ignores Comet’s grumbling. Soon, they fly across the vast plains which made this planet so attractive. Ben can feel the earlier rain still in the air and certainly in the soil. The air is heavy, as if there’s still more to give. Wide puddles and small ponds are scattered across the landscape.

When they reach the farmland, Fives gasps, but his hands don’t stray from the wheel.

Ben observes the fields, more mud than dirt, acres of crops uprooted and scattered wherever they’d been when the water stopped carrying them. His heart hurts at the sight of such chaos, but his mood isn’t nearly so dark as the men around him.

“We were not adequately prepared.” Wolffe’s voice is clipped and professional, but Ben can recognize the self-loathing beneath it.

“And what are the consequences?” Ben asks. He doesn’t talk to him like he would Boba, but this is a teaching moment all the same. When Wolffe turns his sharp gaze on Ben, Ben doesn’t falter. “Worst case, the crop is unsalvageable. It will be considerable effort to replant, and it will delay self-sufficiency, but you have friends and funds. No one on Hasiera will starve.” Ben reaches out with sympathy, not pity. “This is not life-or-death.”

Ben’s been in those situations, where an unexpected storm or a guerilla strike meant starvation rations and frantic calls to the AgriCorps for back-up. He knows Wolffe and the other troopers are used to mistakes equating to death. Fortunately, this is not the case here.

The speeder pulls up at a small hut in the middle of the farmland. A trooper with mud up to his elbows greets them from the doorway. He waits until they’ve disembarked to scan their group and say, “Not the numbers I was expecting, sir.”

Wolffe rolls his eyes. “Boost, this is Ben Lars, our resident agricultural expert. Ben, this is Boost.”

“Figures it would take something like this,” Boost gestures to the disaster around them, “for Cody to part with you.”

Comet smacks Boost upside the head. “Show him your equipment.”

Boost waggles his eyebrows and earns himself another smack to his head. Amusem*nt still lingering around him, Boost waves Ben inside the small hut. It’s a research station. Unlike the area surrounding it, it held up under the storm. Ben hangs his go-bag over a hook made for cloaks and then sets his equipment bag down on the table.

He pulls out machines and instruments even as he keys into the facility’s machines. He scans the weather report, when the storm began, how quickly it hit, how long it took for the levees to give way and the plains to flood.

He cross-references this to what data they have on the area’s weather patterns. They don’t have much, obviously, or they wouldn’t have made such a massive mistake. What he does see makes him clench his hand in a fist and press his knuckles against his teeth.

“Stupid, short-sighted, idiot.” He mutters to himself as he drifts between his equipment and what’s already here. He reminds himself of what he told Wolffe. This is a mistake but one which will only cost time and money. It won’t cost lives. It’s only slightly reassuring.

“These plains will continue to flood unless we build a ludicrously large levee that will need to be constantly reinforced,” Ben tells the room at large. “The good news is there are plenty of crops which rely on this kind of flooding.”

“We begin again?” Wolffe’s voice is tight, no hint of his true feelings.

“Yes and no. I need a clean-up crew which will gather the washed-out crops without damaging them further. I believe they won’t be a total waste. But as to this area, yes, we begin planting again. Rice. And,” Ben takes a fortifying breath and reminds himself he is here for the greater good and not personal pride. “Someone comm Jenkins and tell him we have a secondary site for krill farming.”

The man will be insufferably smug, but Ben will simply avoid him for a while. Ben sits in front of the computer terminal. He needs to adjust the plan for rice to be the primary crop surrounding New Dawn. He also needs to figure out what to do with the tubers they intended to grow here.

At some point, he thinks someone speaks to him, but he waves them away, buried in land surveys and their two-, five-, and ten-year plans.

#

“Ben!”

Ben drags his attention away from the terminal. He feels light-headed, but he does a quick check and he isn’t bleeding out. Dehydration, then. Hmm. He reaches for his mug of tea and frowns when the space to his right is empty. Odd.

“Ben!”

The voice comes again. Ben forces himself to focus. He offers what he hopes is a pleasant and not manic smile to Boost. “Apologies, Boost, I believe I was caught up in my work.”

Boost snorts. His unimpressed face is a less effective version of Cody’s, but the similarities are there. He gestures toward the window. “Understatement, sir.”

Ben sees night has fallen. He’s been at work longer than he thought. “Just Ben is fine. Do you have a kitchenette here?”

Boost gestures toward the corner. “I’ve been told to withhold the location of the tea until you eat something solid.”

Ben sighs. Apparently, Cody’s found a way to haunt him even a half-day’s speeder ride away. “I am perfectly capable of taking care of myself.”

“Mmm,” Boost says. His tone clearly says pull the other one, sir. He opens the cabinet above the small stove. “There’s some fresh stuff, but it’ll take time. Meal kit or ration bar would be quicker.”

“Meal kit. Will you join me?”

“Yeah, we’re buddies now.” Boost flashes a smile and closes the cabinet to pull something out of the fresher. “Wolffe and the others went back to New Dawn.”

Ben vaguely remembers someone saying something about that. “He’s adjusting the work schedule. We’re focused on clean-up while we wait for the rice shipment and then it’ll be all hands on deck for planting.”

“You multi-task well,” Boost says. He dumps the meal kit into the pot on the stove, adds some water, and then sets it to cook. “Which is not an invitation to work through last meal.”

“Do you like it out here?” Ben asks. He recognizes a lost fight when he sees one. He’ll wait until Boost bunks down for the night before he returns to his work. If they’re creative and stretch everyone’s capacity just a shade, they shouldn’t lose too much ground here.

You built uh-oh time into the schedules for this very reason, he reminds himself. And then he dismisses his own voice as an unnecessary nag. While Hasiera has the funds to import food if needed, he knows the importance of self-sufficiency. For a people who were created for war, who were born without even a claim to their own lives, providing them with their own closed system is paramount. Ben knows they don’t intend to become isolationists, and they will certainly have trading partners, but he wants to make sure they are never dependent on anyone ever again for their survival.

“It’s an adjustment.” Boost stirs the pot on the stove. His tone doesn’t indicate whether it’s a good thing or not. “Easier to fight a clanker than the weather.”

“Very true.” Ben raises his arms above his head and frowns at the pops and clicks of his muscles. He figures he still has a few minutes before the food is ready so he settles on the floor for an abbreviated stretching routine.

“Suppose it explains a lot about you.”

“Pardon?”

Boost grins. “We grew up with blasters in our hands and earned our stripes on the battlefield. You grew up fighting nature.”

Ben’s pretty sure Boost isn’t complimenting him. “It isn’t as straightforward a battle, but it’s still a winnable one.”

“With adjustments to strategy.” Boost nods toward the terminal, where Ben’s been re-designing their plan. “General Koon always told us no plan survives contact with the enemy.”

“He’s correct. And I’m sure it’s why you’re all quick thinkers and adaptable.”

“Flatterer. Don’t worry, Fives warned me you were like this.”

“Like what?”

Boost grins and stirs the pot again. “There are quarters for you back on New Dawn.” He outright laughs at the face Ben makes. “There’s also a few bunks here. Comet looked in your bag and saw the hammock. Fives grumbled and said to tell you about the bunks or you’d sleep outside.”

“My work is here,” Ben says. He rolls onto his stomach and then arches his back. Boba calls this the seal pose, after an aquatic mammal they saw on Mon Cala. “It’s a waste of resources to shuttle me back and forth. If you’re based out of the city, I am more than capable of looking out for myself.”

Boost scoffs. A few minutes later, he dumps half the pot into one bowl and the other half into a second. He hands Ben a bowl and spoon. He settles at the small table with the other portion and what looks like a shaker filled with Mandalorian spices.

“Want some?” Boost offers after he liberally doses his bowl.

Ben pokes at his own bowl. It’s some kind of pasta in a pureed vegetable sauce with protein cubes which may or may not be meat-based. It isn’t the worst of the meal kits, and it’s kliks ahead of ration bars if only because it’s hot, but he’s certain it’s lacking in flavor. He taps a bit of spice onto his bowl, enough to flavor it but not so much as to make him weep at the table.

“Oh good.” Boost relaxes as if this was some kind of test. “We were worried about what kind of upbringing you were giving the kid. If he’d never seen a spice before, we were going to challenge you for parental rights.” Boost’s smile is easy, but Ben suspects there’s a grain of truth in his words.

“When we’re more settled, I’ll make you tiingilar,” Ben says. “My version, of course.” It’s the beauty of food, how each person who makes it, makes it slightly differently. He was careful, when he first attempted the Mandalorian dish, to make it as differently from Jango’s as he could. He didn’t want to compete with or overwrite Boba’s memories of his buir.

Over time, making tiingilar became a tradition for the two of them. There is their favorite version, what they make when they have the luxury of whatever ingredients they want. And then there’s what they call fieldtiingilar which is whatever they have at the time thrown into a pan and then spiced depending on how desperately they need to mask the underlying flavor.

Ben eats two spoonfuls of his pasta. “I’ve tried to give Boba the best life I could. I’ve given him the foundations he needs to choose his own path once he reaches the age of majority. Before this assignment, I would have bet on him striking out on his own for a time to become a bounty hunter.” Following in the steps of Jango, not Ben.

“But now?”

Ben eats a few more bites. “We are all searching for something. I’m no longer certain he needs to roam the galaxy to find it.” It’s all he’s willing to say to a stranger, but he’s certain he got his point across. Every child leaves home to find themselves. Ben did it, more than once, and while the AgriCrops was where he settled, he always knew it wouldn’t be Boba’s path. He was going to put on his buir’s beskar’gam and follow in his path to try and connect with the man. Ben suspects Hasiera is full of enough connections to keep Boba occupied for the next several years.

“What are you searching for?” Boosts asks.

“What makes you think I haven’t found it?”

Boost shakes his head, but he doesn’t press for more answers.

#

After last meal, Ben catches a few hours of sleep. When he wakes, Boost is soundly asleep. Ben returns to his station and works. As morning dawns, he familiarizes himself with the kitchenette and the contents of the cabinets and fresher.

He has first meal prepared when Boost staggers out of the sleeping quarters. He blinks blearily at Ben.

“Farmer,” Ben explains. “Waking with the sun is quite normal for me.” He slides a plate of eggs and a cup of juice toward Boost’s side of the table. “Do you do any kind of morning exercises?”

Boost nods and covers his mouth as he yawns.

They eat and then each do a moderated workout. Boost forgoes a trip to the fresher because, as he says, he’s going to end up covered in mud so there isn’t a point.

By the time they’ve finished with their morning duties, they have visitors. Fives, once again driving, pulls the speeder up to the front door so Comet, Sinker, and Wolffe can get out.

“I have clean-up teams organized,” Wolffe says. He hands a pad to Ben with the duty rosters. It’s the kind of organized and efficient Ben’s come to associate with the top troopers. At Ben’s look, Wolffe grins in a somewhat alarming sort of way. “Cody and I were batchmates.”

“Fortunately, the Kaminoans stopped breeding crazy after the CCs,” Fives mutters.

“Like you’re one to talk,” Comet says with good humor. “You reported to Rex.”

“I’m going to tell him you said that.”

“He knows his reputation.” Comet glances at Ben and lights up as he realizes there’s a newcomer here. “Do you know why Cody approved him for a jetpack? Because at least then he could control when he flew.”

“That was Skywalker’s fault,” Fives says, loyally defending his captain. “He threw him off a building.”

“He what?” Ben asks.

“A crumbling building!” Fives speaks quickly as if he’s worried Ben thinks Skywalker was negligent. “Ask Rex about it. He’ll tell you there was a 90% chance he’d die if he stayed on the building and only a 70% chance if Skywalker threw him off it. The jetpack would have decreased his odds to 25%. Of course, the sh*t he got up to once he had the jetpack…” Fives shrugs. “We made it out.”

Ben gives Boost a pointed look. “I think we can do away with the babysitting pretense. Your brothers are clearly all worse than me.”

Boost looks undeterred. “Which is why I have high hopes of successfully wrangling you. Think of it this way, Cody wouldn’t fuss if he didn’t care.”

Ben sighs and decides on a strategic retreat. He knows better than to think he’ll win this fight when he’s so outnumbered. He scans the duty roster again. The men are split into teams, and there are groups doing clean-up here and others preparing the new tuber site for planting.

“I’ll go to the new site,” Ben says. “Are you comfortable supervising here?”

“Yes,” Wolffe answers. “The rice will be arriving in staggered shipments beginning in three days.”

Ben runs the numbers through his head. “That should work out well. We’ll have cleared enough here to begin planting. As we clear more, we plant more.” It’s the most efficient use of resources. On second thought, “I’ll start with a shift here and then transition to the second site.”

Wolffe is too professional to bristle, but Comet does it for him.

Ben waves off their stung pride with the pad. “I know what this means. You’re asking for extra shifts. Nothing too draining, but I would bet every brother is adding a few hours in order to assist with this effort. I know the importance and necessity of delegation, but I have never shied away from doing my part. I want them to see it. This is a group effort in the truest sense of the word.”

“And you’re part of the group.” Wolffe nods, accepting the change.

“Is there a research facility like this at the secondary site?” Ben asks. The new tuber fields are on the other side of New Dawn. If it was ridiculous to shuttle between here and New Dawn, it would be even more ridiculous to shuttle between here and the other fields. He sees the looks exchanged and adds, “I have a tent in addition to my hammock.”

It’s Fives who cracks first, laughing, and it makes Ben laugh as well. Comet looks from Fives to Ben with mounting horror. “It’s contagious.”

“f*ck you,” Fives says cheerfully. “As if anyone in the Wolfpack has room to judge.”

“There’s a building but it isn’t as equipped as this one,” Wolffe answers. “We weren’t expecting to use it yet.”

“All I need is a tea kettle,” Ben says. “It’s Cody who insists on things like roofs.”

“How unreasonable of him,” Wolffe says blandly.

Ben chuckles as he checks the time. “The first wave of workers will be arriving soon. I want to show you all the process so you can help teach.”

“Train the trainer,” Comet grumbles. “It’s like Kamino all over again.”

#

In deference to the mud, Ben forgoes his usual robes and tunics. He sets to work in shorts and a short sleeve shirt. Any pearl clutching over the sight of his arms or ankles is quickly negated by the full-body mud.

He sets the example, collecting the wilted soggy tuber sprouts and gently placing them in the storage units they’ll use to transport them to the secondary site. It’s physically engaging work, but mentally it’s quite droll. It doesn’t surprise him when the men begin singing.

This, like rising with the sun, is a tradition which seems to find farmers, no matter where in the galaxy they work the land. Some of the songs are in basic, others are Mando’a, and others still are an interesting mix of the two.

Ben knows enough to follow, and he finds himself humming one of them as they break for second meal. He’s drifted from team to team throughout the morning so he can learn the men’s names and let them put a face to the name they’ve no doubt been hearing since assignments went out.

He sits next to Warthog, who despondently chews on his ration bar. “I was hoping we’d be done with these soon,” he says. He casts a forlorn look at the tubers. Some of them are in worse shape than others; their leaves ripped off by the water, their stalks shredded by debris.

“There’s a team replanting them,” Guthook says. He looks at Ben as is trying to gauge the truth.

Ben wonders how often the truth was distorted in order to keep hope alive during the war. He plucks one of the tuber sprouts from the storage bin. He has a dozen miniature pots in his bag. He takes one out and breaks the seal so he can access the nutrient rich dirt.

Under the watchful eyes of the team, he uses his fingers to carve out a space for the tuber and then plants it. He tucks the dirt carefully around it until only a few drooping leaves poke above the surface of the soil.

“It’s beaten down,” Ben says as he closes his eyes. “On its own, it most likely wouldn’t survive. But this is a group effort.” He reaches out in the Force. The plant is beaten down. It’s exhausted and hurting after having been ripped up from its home and tossed around. Ben coaxes it to explore its new home. First, little roots reach out. They’re pleased with the quality of the soil, even more pleased with the walls which will protect it from further harm. Encouraged, it allows Ben to strengthen the stalk. It even produces three new leaves.

Ben opens his eyes to see the men all staring at the potted plant. He smiles and hands it to Warthog. “Do you know what it means that I’m from the AgriCorps?”

Guthook reaches for the plant, as if he needs to touch it to know it’s real, but Warthog slaps his hand away with a fierce scowl.

“You can do this with the Force?” Warthog shakes his head as if he still doesn’t believe it. “General Koon could call lightning. And everyone knows that Skywalker could crumple droids like flimsi with a squeeze of his fist. But this…”

Ben’s entire being aches with the implications. These men were raised in war. They never knew the Jedi before they were generals. “The Force is life,” Ben says, softly, reverently. “They teach us, when we are young, that through the Force, all things are possible. Yes, we can channel it for great destruction, and I’m sorry it was needed. But we can also channel it for great good.”

Warthog looks out over the fields of washed-out sprouts. They fields extend further than even the brothers can see with their enhanced eyesight. “You’re going to bring it all back?”

“Everything I can,” Ben promises.

#

After last meal, Ben insists on traveling to the secondary site. He and Boost stare each other down until Ben says he intends to begin work at sun-up so they can drive out tonight or in the very early morning.

Boost groans but agrees.

The research facility is outwardly the same as the other. On the inside, the layout is the same, but, as Wolffe said, this one hasn’t been fully finished. Ben sets his equipment up where there’s space. While additional tools would be nice and perhaps speed up some processes, he has everything he needs with him.

Before Ben can turn his padd on, Boost takes him by the elbow and marches him toward the sleeping quarters.

#

Under Ben’s direction, the men plant the uprooted tubers in small pots. Each night, after everyone else is asleep, Ben sits amongst the pots and encourages them to grow. By the time he’s caught a few hours of sleep and a new day begins, the tubers are sturdy enough to replant in the ground.

It’s a brutal schedule but the kind Ben loves. He falls into his routine with ease. He rotates teams during planting and rotates for meals as well. He eats his whole portion at every meal and then whatever leftovers there are to spare. Using the Force to this extent depletes his energy stores and since he cuts corners on sleep, it’s vital he eats well.

If they were closer to the Wellspring…Nothing to be done for it. He must accept the limitations of his body and do what he can despite them.

Chapter 9

Chapter Text

Ben has lost track of time, but he knows better than to admit to it when Cody arrives at the research facility he’s currently calling home. The former commander stalks into the building, and Ben checks his pad. Fourteen days. Good to know.

Ben exchanges a baffled look with Wildfire and then looks to Fives for some kind of clue. Fives grins, no help, and so Ben follows Cody inside to see what he’s doing.

He’s…inspecting the place. He checks the cabinets and mutters to himself about the amount of food there. He checks the fresher and makes an approving sound. He even goes into the bunkroom as if he’s suddenly psychometric and can tell if Ben’s been sleeping.

“You could just ask me,” Ben says.

Cody glares at him as if Ben should know better than to think Cody would believe him.

“You could trust me,” Wolffe suggests mildly.

Cody’s glare intensifies.

Wolffe, because he has some kind of death wish, just laughs.

“How do you like New Dawn?” Cody asks, the question presumably for Ben.

Ben shrugs because he hasn’t seen much beyond the spaceport.

“Wolffe didn’t give you a tour on your first rest day?” Cody’s question is nonchalant, but his gaze narrows in on Ben, sensing weakness. “Was Wolffe too busy? Maybe he deputized someone else to do it.”

Fourteen days. Which means Ben should have had a couple rest days in there. f*ck.

“He’s been like this since decanting,” Wolffe says with a fond look for his batchmate.

“It’s your turn next,” Cody threatens and Wolffe wisely steps back and lets Ben take the full brunt of Cody’s aggressive mother henning.

“Time is of the essence,” Ben says. And then, before Cody can yell at him again, he adds, “I will make up for the missed rest days when I return to Jangolare if it makes you happy, but if we don’t act quickly, we’ll lose the tuber crop.”

Cody sighs, a long exhale. He doesn’t yell again, but he also doesn’t apologize.

“Do you want to see our progress?” Ben asks.

He shows Cody the neat rows of tuber sprouts and then the neat rows of soil waiting for new sprouts. They’re three-quarters of the way done, and Ben’s optimistic they’ll finish planting before they lose any of the sprouts. It’s a far better outcome than he would have predicted when he first got news of the disaster.

Ben eats with Cody, Wolffe, and some of the other higher-ranking brothers. Ben tries not to feel self-conscious as Cody watches him eat, and he tries not to feel guilty at Cody’s suspicion when he gets himself seconds.

#

It takes two days for Cody to catch him out.

Ben oversleeps on the second day, the schedule is starting to wear on him, and when he drags himself out of the research facility, tea clutched in his hands, Cody is near apoplectic next to the rows of potted plants.

Today’s work teams stand in formation and none of them look as if they even dare to breathe. Ben glances at the door to the facility and wonders if it’s too late to pretend he’s still asleep.

“Have you ever seen a plant before?” Cody demands. “They don’t grow like this—” he gestures sharply to the tubers, “overnight!”

Ben braces himself and then says, “Not without help at least,” because the men don’t deserve Cody’s temper for Ben’s actions.

“You!” Cody whirls on Ben. The work teams subtly inch back as if they can disappear without Cody noticing. “I should have known something was going on when I saw you actually eating. How much does this take out of you?” he gestures toward the pots, the fields, the area in general.

“It’s work,” Ben answers, truthful without being honest.

“Is it sustainable?” Cody’s voice reaches a lower decibel and even Fives has stopped grinning as if he realizes this is about to go from funny to nuclear.

“No,” Ben answers and then raises his voice to be heard over Cody’s spluttering. “But it doesn’t need to be. We’ve almost finished and then I won’t exert myself in this way.” Ben’s patience and understanding are both thin with the lack of proper rest. “Apparently, I must remind you that I am an expert in my field. I know my abilities and their limits.”

On the sidelines, Fives sucks in a breath.

Boost and Sinker clasp hands.

“Knowing your limits doesn’t matter, if you constantly push yourself to them,” Cody snaps.

“It’s my choice! Will Hasiera fail if we don’t salvage three-quarters or even half of the tuber crop? No, and I’m thankful for it. But if I want to give up a full night of sleep to get us closer to one-hundred percent, then it’s my choice.” I offered my life for the people on Bandomeer, and Qui-Gon found me worthy.

“And it’s my choice to try and make up for how you neglect your own well-being.”

Oh, back here again. Ben thrusts his tea at Cody. “Do you want to check its temperature? Heat it up if it doesn’t meet your standards?”

Silence falls, deep and heavy between them. Ben winces and pinches the bridge of his nose. He definitely isn’t sleeping enough if he’s being this caustic.

Cody, apparently, took the moment of silence to marshal his fury. His voice is tight but controlled as he lashes out in return. “Caring for you don’t make you a burden!”

It’s Ben’s turn to fall silent, but it’s a weakness, because Cody’s expression shutters as if Ben spoke a hundred words.

“It isn’t caretaking,” Cody says softly, carefully, and his brilliant mind makes connections faster than Ben would like. “I’ve seen you with Boba. It’s you. Who made you feel this way?” Cody’s face closes off further as if he answered his own question.

Caring for me was a burden. Qui-Gon couldn’t be bothered, or he forgot or it interfered with his plans. He couldn’t care for a single padawan, and they gave him an entire battalion. For your sakes, I hope he learned after I left him.

“Would you like me to stop?” Ben asks. His voice sounds as raw as his insides feel, as if Cody reached in and scraped him out. He doesn’t want to stop, he believes he can see this through, but this is the only olive branch he knows how to offer.

“No.” Cody softens his voice as well and Ben thinks he might hate having an audience for this more than for the earlier shouting. “As you said, you are an expert, and you know your abilities. I want you to be smarter about applying them.”

Ben sips his tea to buy himself a moment to think. It doesn’t help. His mind is completely and utterly blank. “The tubers won’t survive without my assistance, and there’s no one else who can do it. But, I can…specialize. Cut back on anything others could do in order to save my energies for what I am uniquely suited to do.”

“Would having another Jedi help?” Wolffe asks. He rolls his eyes at the look Cody shoots him. “If you wanted to have a private spat, you should’ve done it in private.” He turns his attention to Ben. “General Secura is in Aloriya. It wouldn’t take more than a day for her to get here.”

“It isn’t a skill generals would have but thank you,” Ben says. He didn’t realize there were any Jedi on Hasiera aside from himself. He doesn’t remember the name Secura, but that doesn’t mean anything. He’ll make sure to steer clear of her just in case.

“She and Bly grew close during the war,” Wolffe explains for his benefit. “When the war ended and it wasn’t a conflict with chain of command, they decided to live together.”

“Hmm,” Ben says, what he feels is a safe response. He sips his tea again. “Well, Cody flew all the way out here to scold me into taking a nap so I’m going back to sleep.”

“I’ll wake you for second meal,” Cody says which is a threat as much as it’s a kind offer.

Fives catches Ben on his retreat. “Good going,” he says too quietly for anyone to overhear. “We finally got him to unclench enough to delegate. You’ve set us back at least a year.” He cheers up after a moment. “The show was worth it, though. Rex will be pissed he missed it.”

Ben rolls his eyes and pointedly pulls the door closed behind him.

#

Habit now, Ben waits for everyone to return to New Dawn or fall asleep before he goes to coax the day’s sprouts into perking up. He shouldn’t be surprised to see Cody standing amongst the flower pots, his arms crossed over his chest.

“We compromised,” Ben reminds him. He had a very nice morning nap and then, after second meal, he had a quiet afternoon of comming with Boba and working on his reports.

Cody breathes out of deep sigh as if he knows if he allows himself to be angry, he’ll never stop. “You’re sneaking out when everyone’s asleep. Surely that’s some kind of warning sign to you.”

“Maybe I’m embarrassed.” Ben says it lightly and mentally dares Cody to try and parse if it’s the truth or not. “You’re used to battlefield Jedi. I’m talking to plants.”

“Show me,” Cody says.

It’s so far from what Ben expected, another fight about his self-worth or even a pitiable pep-talk, that he blurts out, “What?”

Cody uses his training or something to determine where Ben sits each night and then sits a few paces in front of it. “Show me,” he repeats.

Ben might do relief work, but he has access to the holonet like every other galactic citizen. He’s seen the footage of The Hero Without Fear and the Maverick General. He’s seen Cody in action, brutal and efficient, side-by-side with his acrobatic general. They’re a striking pair, even more terrifying when Rex and Anakin joined them.

But Ben set himself up for this. He plucks a pot from the ground and sets it in Cody’s hands. Maybe he is embarrassed. It’s stupid. He was content with his life before this assignment. And by all accounts, this should be a moment for pride. He’s at the peak of his career, given the assignment of a lifetime. The only reason he’s this wound up is because he knows the kind of Jedi the brothers are used to interacting with.

He settles into a mediation pose and closes his eyes. Around him, he finds the faint thrum of life. These plants, battered by the storm, wilted from their time in storage bins, are barely clinging to existence. Part of the reason he’s getting worn down is that it’s taking more and more effort to revive the plants. They’re tired and they resist his attempts at reinvigoration.

Your purpose is not yet realized, he chides as he feeds a bit of strength into them. He pays particular attention to the plant Cody holds in his lap. If that one sees a little more growth than its counterparts, Ben doesn’t intend to tell.

When he finishes, he opens his eyes. Cody stares at the plant in his hands as if it holds the answers to the mysteries of the galaxy. He brushes the leaves with his knuckles, and for a moment, Ben is deeply envious of a tuber sprout. He wants to be touched with such care.

Ben swallows thickly. “Not a lot of flash, I’m afraid.”

“Don’t,” Cody tells him. “Don’t dismiss this. You’ve brought life into the galaxy.” He touches the leaves again, and his longing is clear even through the dim evening light.

“You can too. You don’t have my shortcuts, but your apartment has the space for window boxes, maybe even a little garden out front.”

“They made us to be killers.”

“You aren’t theirs anymore.”

“No,” Cody agrees, “We aren’t.” He contemplates the sprout on his lap for a long moment before he clears his throat, as if embarrassed. He goes to set it down, but Ben stops him.

“Keep it. Let it be the first resident of your garden. Or…” It’s Ben’s turn to grow bashful. “There are flowers. Herbs. Spices. You can plant anything. Or nothing.”

Cody holds the plant to his chest as he stands. “Thank you.”

Ben stands as well and finds that the world tilts alarmingly. Cody sighs but steadies him with a hand on his back. Ben, rather than fighting, leans into the touch and allows Cody to escort him back to his bunk.

#

Cody joins him the next night as well. Ben isn’t sure what he gets out of it. If he wants to see the plants’ progress, it’s easier to see in the morning. But Ben doesn’t mind the company, so he simply settles into his pose again and opens his mind.

Again, when he’s unsteady on his feet, Cody offers his help. Tonight, he doesn’t turn them to the facility right away. Instead, Cody looks out over the rows of potted plants and then beyond them to the fields. “I’m glad you aren’t a Jedi. The war would have destroyed you.”

Ben isn’t sure if it’s the kindest or cruelest thing someone has ever said to him.

#

On day twenty, they finish their planting project. Ben wipes his dirty hands on his shirt and looks out over their farmland. He feels accomplished, yes, and a little proud. Word from the original site says the rice planting is progressing nicely, and the krill spawning is going even better.

Ben hums, pleased. His contemplation of the past few days is interrupted by the approach of a speeder. He can’t help but tense as he realizes there is a powerful Force sensitive on the speeder. He wishes he had his robes so he could tuck his hands away. He settles for clasping them behind his back.

He bows deeply to the Kel Dor who steps off the speeder along with Wolffe, Comet, and Sinker.

“I am Plo Koon,” the Kel Dor says after he returns Ben’s bow. “I sit on the Jedi Council which is not my purpose for this visit. I came to see how everyone was settling in.”

“Everyone?” Fives asks with a grin.

Ben notes the way Wolffe and the others move closer to the former general. He heard that some of the Jedi made good generals. He wonders if Plo Koon’s obvious attachment made him a good one or bad one.

“Ben Lars, AgriCorps Specialist.” Ben introduces himself in turn. “You picked a good time to visit. We just finished transplanting the tubers.” He gestures to the fields before them.

“Wolffe told me of the storm and your efforts. I’m sorry I arrived once the work was finished. I haven’t had the opportunity to see your work conducted on a large scale. Qui-Gon filled his quarters with plants and would occasionally show off, but nothing like this.”

“I’m afraid I cannot give you a demonstration,” Ben says. “Cody has put me on mandated rest.”

“I imagine it’s quite the undertaking,” Plo Koon says. “You did it on your own?”

“I did. And I would ask an end to the questions before I end up in even more trouble.” Ben smiles to take any possible sting out of his words.

Plo Koon looks over at Cody and laughs softly. “I see you haven’t mellowed, Commander Cody. I’m glad you’re here, though. There is something I wished to speak with you about. Is it true Ahsoka found her way to you?”

Cody falls into parade rest. “And who is inquiring? The Jedi Councilor? The General?”

“The Jedi who found her as a youngling and brought her to the Temple.”

Cody gives a tight nod.

“If she would agree to see me, I would very much like a meeting. I suspect Anakin won’t be far behind.”

Great, Ben thinks, More Jedi.

#

With the planting done, there’s no reason for Ben to stay in New Dawn. This is, at least, what he says to give him reason to leave. When Plo Koon rides with them to Jangolare to see Ahsoka, Ben reminds Cody of his promise to use his neglected rest days, and he takes Boba out for an extended camping trip.

“You were gone a long time,” Boba says as they head up into the mountains.

Ben convinced him to stop at the Wellspring briefly to help boost Ben’s energy levels after the planting slog. Now, they’re on their way over the mountains and then through the woods to a small clearing where they can practice their saberwork.

Cody hadn’t been pleased when Ben told him he would be gone for five days. Not even telling him that Ben would return better rested than he left eased the frown from Cody’s brow.

“You’ll be sick of me by the time we’re back in Jangolare,” Ben says.

Boba scoffs. Normally, this is the end of their emotions, but Boba is particularly persistent today. “I like you, buir.”

It’s a simple statement, its meaning more in that Boba thinks Ben needs to hear it. Ben adjusts the straps on his pack and searches for his infamous serenity. It seems to have wandered away while they were hiking.

“Were you needed for the full time?” Boba asks.

“A storm washed out the levees and then washed out the entire tuber crop. While the work teams could rebuild, shift the original farmland to rice and stake out pools for krill farming, I was the only one who could rescue the tuber sprouts so they could be replanted in more suitable ground.”

“So yes.” Boba’s quiet for a few steps, but Ben knows better than to think he’s abandoned his current train of thought. “I wasn’t sure if it was another lesson.”

“You did remarkably well without my presence,” Ben tells him.

“Which is why I thought it was a lesson. One day, we will be parted. You’ve made it clear since you found me. Either you would settle into a long-term assignment, and I’d get bored, or I’d take up Jango’s profession and you wouldn’t be able to follow. We will be parted.” Boba repeats himself as his discomfort spikes. “It’ll happen on its own. You don’t need to manufacture situations.”

Ben works through Boba’s meandering monologue for a second time. “Ah. No, I didn’t leave you as a lesson on separation. But I can’t promise to bring you with me next time there’s a long- or even short-term need for me. You have responsibilities of your own you need to attend to.”

Ben can practically feel Boba’s eyeroll. “You could comm more often. We’re still on the same planet.”

“Ah,” Ben repeats.

“You should add Cody to your comm schedule.” Boba’s mood picks up as he finds an avenue to tease his buir. “Reports are so impersonal. Rex says Cody missed your voice.”

“He what?” Ben asks weakly.

“Of course, Fives says after they finally dragged him out to check on you in person, the two of you had a shouting match in front of all the impressionable New Dawn brothers.”

At least Fives didn’t catch the incident on video. Ben thanks the Force for small mercies. “We had a disagreement. It won’t be repeated.”

“Don’t make promises you can’t keep.” Boba still sounds cheerful as he ducks under a low hanging branch. “He’s made a career out of fussing over people, and you’re easy to fuss over, but you hate it.”

“He was made,” Ben says quietly.

Boba stops in the middle of the path. He turns so Ben experiences the full weight of his glare. “And? You think the Kaminoans programmed him to care about idiot Force users who don’t understand how to take care of themselves?”

Ben thinks about Cody’s wartime general. “Yes.”

“Di’kut,” Boba mutters. “What about me? Jango demanded I was unaltered. If the Kaminoans didn’t program me, how come I care about you? And if you say anything about my obligation to you as my buir, I will knock you out, steal your supplies and your boots and leave you only with a comm so you have to call Cody to come pick you up."

Ben winces at the threat, its effectiveness, and Boba’s high probability of succeeding in carrying it out. He gestures for Boba to continue hiking. It’s easier to gather his thoughts and voice them when he isn’t being stared down by his well-meaning but volatile ad.

“I’m sorry,” Ben finally says. “I shouldn’t have said that about Cody or implied it about you. My struggles with my self-worth are mine to wrestle with.” He drags a hand over his beard, trimmed short before he left, because he doesn’t plan to groom it while they’re in the wild. “Having Jedi around is more difficult for me than I expected it to be. They remind me of my failures and my shortcomings. I thought I had gained mastery over myself, but all I managed to do was hide myself from my triggers.”

Bail told him this would be a project separate from the Jedi Order and exempt from their oversight, but Ben didn’t take into account the Jedi’s personal relationship with the men. Of course, Ahsoka would see Rex’s home as a safe haven. Of course, General Secura would make her home with the man she loved. Of course, Plo Koon would want to make sure the men he tried so hard to save were thriving after the war.

And yes, of course Anakin Skywalker, the Hero Without Fear, would want to come and see his friends. It’s Ben who has a troubled relationship with the Jedi and therefore Ben who must adapt. Or, as he plans to do for the near future, hide out whenever Jedi are slated to visit.

“How are Cupcake and Jumper?” Ben asks.

“Happy.” Boba doesn’t call Ben out on the subject change. “We do holo nights sometimes. To make sure I feel included, they have me sit in the middle. I’m not sure if that makes it weirder or not. They hold hands behind my head.”

“Hmm,” Ben says, struggling not to laugh.

“Sometimes their thumbs brush my neck.”

“Boba.” Ben’s going to lose the fight with his composure in about two seconds.

“Cupcake always picks really long, boring documentaries. Even he falls asleep. And then they apologize when we wake up in a tangle.”

If Ben ever needed proof that nurture holds equal weight to nature when it comes to child-rearing, it’s right here. In Ben’s marginal defense, it took him so long to catch on to Hondo Ohnaka’s flirtation, because he insisted on kidnapping Ben to declare his intentions, but still. Boba’s friends have practically given him a written invitation to join them.

“I always make breakfast if I overstay,” Boba hurries to add, as if he needs to explain or justify his presence, and Ben feels his heart break a little.

“Boba,” he says, softer this time, because Boba didn’t absorb only Ben’s good qualities.

“I mean, it’s an excuse to stay. I…like spending time together. Is it underhanded to use friend reasons to stay when my thoughts aren’t in friend territory?”

“Honesty is important,” Ben says but he keeps the lecture out of his tone, because he knows how frightening the prospect of being honest can be. He and Hondo had a very complicated relationship. The first time Ben was kidnapped by the pirate was legitimate. Of course, Hondo was working off bad intel, and he was quite angry when it turned out Ben was neither a Jedi knight nor transporting large amounts of valuable goods. Well, Hondo didn’t think the cases of seeds were valuable. Cirrilla was looking forward to the delivery.

Ben laughed when Hondo pouted about no cargo to steal and not having a valuable enough hostage to ransom. When Ben escaped, because Ben was resourceful, he held a vibroblade to the Weequay’s side and told him as a member of the AgriCorps, he had no political affiliation and no personal possessions. All he had to ransom was himself. And then he winked and sauntered off the ship.

The next time he ran into the pirate was at a cantina. He’d done his research by then and knew the drink Hondo placed in front of him was laced with something to knock him out. He sniffed it delicately, like an Alderaanian partaking in a wine service before their meal. He slid a flimsi across the table to Hondo. “These are my known allergies. Any problems?”

Hondo looked at the list, looked at Ben, and then looked at the list again and shook his head.

Ben shrugged and chugged the drink in one go.

He woke up behind a weak containment field and proceeded to barter for his release.

This is not a story he should tell Boba. Ben pulls himself out of his memories. “Cupcake and Jumper are making space in their lives for you. You can firmly establish your friendship boundaries and what is acceptable within them. Or you can firmly establish relationship boundaries and what is acceptable within those. If you continue in this limbo, it will hurt the three of you in the end. Have you thought more on what you want?”

Embarrassment clogs the air, and Ben coughs and laughs at the same time and ends up choking a little.

“You’re mean,” Boba pouts.

“No, I’ll save that side of myself for when I ask Cupcake and Jumper about their intentions toward you.”

“I hate you,” Boba grumbles.

“See! I told you you’d be sick of me before we returned to Jangolare.”

Boba pulls a tree branch back and snaps it back at Ben who only manages to duck and avoid a face full of pine needles thanks to Force-enhanced reflexes.

Chapter 10

Chapter Text

Adi Gallia comes to Jangolare, and Ben takes a pack and his pad and spends ten days mapping the cave systems and writing out an exhaustive list of possible cave-dwelling crops they could grow.

When he returns, the city gossip mill is churning full force. Apparently, Boba was spotted with kiss marks during training, and everyone with a pair of eyes knows one of two people put them on his skin. Hilariously, the brothers try to keep Ben from finding this out as if he doesn’t have working ears or a strong relationship with Boba.

“How long are you going to keep this up?” Cody asks. The man looks tired, dark circles under his eyes and a slowness to his movements that Ben associates with exhaustion.

“Until it stops amusing me. I’m not sure why anyone thinks I don’t know. I’m the one who told Boba the holding pattern could only hold for so long. I didn’t tell him which direction to tip things in, but we discussed the importance of action.” Ben grins, thinking about Boba’s blush and the bruise high on his neck where none of his clothes will hide it. “I suppose they’re handling the action just fine on their own.”

“You’re trouble,” Cody says but he’s smiling a little, so Ben takes it as a win.

“I need some kind of amusem*nt in my life.” Ben sips his tea and looks over his datapad. “Speaking of what I need—” he huffs and rolls his eyes as Cody sits up straighter, “I am capable of expressing myself and making requests. No need to act so surprised. I’ve put a lot of thought into New Dawn and the tuber situation. It’s true that right now there are no Force users who can do what I did, but there are things those with a green thumb, or even training and persistence, can do. We’re far enough along in settlement to be exiting the scrambling stage. We can begin specialization. I’d like to form a team.”

Cody sinks back in his chair, deflated. “Sure.” He taps his stylus on his own datapad. “Anything else?”

Ben frowns at the shift in Cody’s mood. He picks up his own datapad and submits a scheduling request which pings on Cody’s pad a moment later.

Cody checks it and then rolls his eyes. “If scheduling naps into someone’s schedule worked, I would have done it to you a long time ago.”

Ben mentally reviews his schedule. He could spend the next hour reading through profiles and deciding who he wants on his team, but he can do that any time. “A trade, then. I’ll nap for an hour if you do.”

Cody doesn’t cave immediately which Ben sort of thought he would. Instead, he grows suspicious. “How do I know you’ll hold up your end?”

“I suppose you wouldn’t unless you napped with me.”

“Fine.” Cody stands and packs his things into his bag.

“What?”

Cody pauses at the door and looks at Ben expectantly. “Are you coming or not?”

Ben hurries to catch up with him. “This is highly unconventional.”

“You could say no.” Cody pauses in the middle of the hallway and some passing brothers have to split up to go around them. “You can say no.”

Ben’s never been in a hierarchy like the GAR. He’s given assignments for the AgriCorps, but the nature of warzones and disaster relief means he’s mostly on his own once he lands. Communication is sparse and split-second decisions are the norm. He rests a hand on Cody’s vambrace, because he still wears most of his armor, as if he hasn’t accepted that the galaxy is at peace. “I can. But I’m saying yes. You’re a high government official. I want to see the amenities you have and then complain until I’m given the same.”

“You’re a pain in the ass,” Cody says. He continues walking, his stride long and purposeful, and Ben has to half-jog to keep up with him.

#

Ben can’t hide out for Skywalker’s visit. For one, Shmi writes him to tell him she knows he’s on Hasiera with the war veterans, and she knows her son is planning a visit, and it’s about time they met. She also includes a very lengthy warning to be on his best behavior, because she knows him more from his reputation on Tatooine as a troublemaker than his AgriCorps reputation.

Secondly, Skywalker plans to visit for an extended period of time, and Ben can’t afford to be away from his base of operations for that long. Thirdly, ever since New Dawn and his fight with Cody, Ben’s been working with Healer Bisu on his lingering issues surrounding the Jedi. She agreed with the breakthrough he had hiking with Boba; his solitary life up until now meant he could grow into a respected and skilled agriculturalist, but he’d never had to confront his past.

So, here he is in the spaceport alongside Rex, Cody, Fives, Echo, and Ahsoka, waiting for Skywalker to land his ship and set foot on Hasiera for the first time.

The man who descends the landing ramp is nothing like the holoreels showed him.

He’s lanky, coltish with long limbs which are just a hair too long or not muscled enough to appear proportional. It lends the impression that he still needs to grow, despite his already impressive height. His hair is pulled back in a messy top knot and his tunics have what Ben thinks might be a formula-stain on them. No, this is not The Hero Without Fear.

He is unmistakably a Jedi. Even if Ben hadn’t felt his presence since he first entered atmosphere, it would be impossible to miss it now. Ben opens his shields a fraction, just to see, and he actually takes a step back at the sheer wash of power. Every sense Ben has is magnified, and the world is brighter and louder around him.

“You’re like a sentient Wellspring,” Ben says before he can help himself. It’s terribly rude, he’s interrupting Skywalker and Ahsoka’s hugging reunion, and he hasn’t even introduced himself. “How are you sane?”

Rather than taking offense, Skywalker just laughs. He tries to run his hand through his hair and then his fingers get stuck as he remembers he pulled his hair back. Ben blinks and looks at him again and sees a kid. A grown adult with a wife and two kids and a war’s worth of military campaigns, but he’s young. Force, he’s so young.

“You must be Ben.” Skywalker holds his hand out in a Tatooine greeting.

Ben clasps it and they shake like equals, two people consenting to touch. He drops his hand to his side when he’s done and flexes his fingers. Skywalker shook with a gloved hand and despite the quality, Ben could feel the cybernetics within it.

“Ben Lars,” Skywalker repeats. He looks Ben over as if he’s comparing the sight of him to what he knows. Surprisingly, he doesn’t look disappointed, as if Ben’s somehow fallen short. He claps Rex on the shoulder. “You have no idea how hard Mom worked to keep us from meeting. She said he’d be a bad influence.”

Cody bristles on Ben’s behalf.

Skywalker either doesn’t notice or doesn’t care. He stares at Ben, hungry for new stories. “Word has it you took on an entire ‘forcement team with your bare hands.”

Now, Cody turns his disapproval on Ben.

“I had my ass soundly handed to me,” Ben says. “And then my father told me to get off Tatooine before I brought the full force of the Hutts down on our family.” The only saving grace was that Ben didn’t use his lightsaber, and he kept his face concealed when he stupidly tried to take on an entire team on his own.

But Cliegg was right. It was only a matter of time before Ben slipped or someone made the connection. Ben’s family would lose their freedom if not their lives. There was no place on Tatooine for him. He was too angry, to indignant, too brimming with a need for justice. It was right after Melida/Daan. He had the success of bringing a war to an end under his belt and nightmares of child slaughter in his head. He wanted to make a difference on Tatooine as well. Show the Jedi he didn’t need their Temple or their training to do good.

“Yeah.” Skywalker’s mood drops along with Ben’s. “We whispered about you in the slave quarters.”

“I’m sure they whisper about you now,” Ben says.

Skywalker shrugs but there’s a glint of mischief in his eyes. “I was the first human to win the Boonta Eve Classic.”

Ahsoka groans. “Aren’t Jedi supposed to be humble?”

“They are,” Rex agrees. He taps his chin. “I suppose we’ll have to help him remember this lesson. Let’s spar. We can see how soft fatherhood has made the general.”

“Hey!” Skywalker protests, but he grins and slings an arm over each of their shoulders and heads out.

#

Skywalker’s presence, like his aura, is suddenly everywhere all at once. He is at meals and meetings. He’s in the training facility and in the fields. Everywhere Ben turns, Skywalker is there in person or being discussed by the men he’s with. It’s clear he’s popular, and it’s clear why; he said f*ck it to the Order’s approach to attachment and loves anyone who stands still long enough for him to meet.

Ben takes to shutting himself in conference rooms and offices and sometimes even storage closets when he’s desperate. Meetings are generally safe because, after Skywalker attends the first few, Ben learns what Rex must have within the first week of the war; Skywalker is a man of action. Planning goes against all his instincts.

Cody wrangles him with impressive efficiency. Ben would have expected Skywalker to balk at taking orders, not from a clone but from anyone, but Cody has a way of delivering his orders as expectations and Skywalker rises to each and every one of them.

This is what the holoreels missed when they documented the war. Ben understands now why the 212^th and 501^st were two of the most effective battalions in the war.

Unfortunately, Skywalker’s unique combination of being raised on Tatooine, admitted to the Order late, and then spending three years at war have made him near desperate to prove himself. Ben understands the impulse, he had the same foundation after all, but he doesn’t pursue it quite as whole-heartedly as Skywalker does.

Everything is a competition, from how much he can eat in a sitting to who can tell the better stories to who can lift the most with the Force, on and on until every interaction turns into a subtle, or not so subtle, measuring stick.

“Want to give me a tour?” Skywalker asks on the second day. He has the keys to a speeder in his hand. “I bet you’ve never flown as fast as you would with me before.”

“Do you want to go for a morning run?” Skywalker asks at last meal on the second day. “I could go for a few kliks if you were up for it.”

“Have you ever fought a gundark?” he asks on the third day before launching into a story that keeps getting interrupted by Ahsoka’s heckling and Rex’s, “No, that’s not how it went, quit exaggerating”.

Ben declines each of these invitations, but with each one an itch grows under his skin. He wants to test himself against Skywalker. He wants to snatch the spice shaker from his hand and douse both their bowls and then see which one of them cries first. He wants to race to the mountains to see who is faster. He wants to stand in front of the men and see which one they love more.

He wants with such frightening intensity that he starts avoiding Skywalker as much as he can. Skywalker is an accomplished Jedi, a war hero, and a father. Ben’s path diverged long before that, but it doesn’t mean he has nothing to show for his years lived. They are not in competition with each other.

Skywalker won before he even knew who Ben was.

Ben scrubs a hand down his face. He’s taken to calling Skywalker Qui-Gon Jinn’s found padawan in his head. This story, he read in the holonews and has heard from his family. Qui-Gon Jinn crash-landed on Tatooine with the Queen of Naboo, and Skywalker’s big heart and skilled podracing saved them all.

He heard from Rex how Jinn fought the Council in order to train Skywalker. Fives said Jinn even threatened to leave the Order in order to train him. Ben would laugh if he didn’t think it would descend into ugly crying. Anakin Skywalker, with a Force presence so strong he could probably change a planet’s orbit, trained by a man who thought Ben was dangerous.

Jinn’s mostly retreated from the news since the war concluded. Ben wonders how much truth there was behind the Sith Lord’s plans to take Skywalker as an apprentice. Xanatos fell and Jinn rejected Ben, afraid he would follow in the same path. And then, after finally taking a new padawan, he picked one so strong the Sith Master secretly groomed him as an apprentice.

Did Skywalker ever come close to falling? Does Jinn ever have nightmares about Skywalker standing over him with gold eyes and a red lightsaber? Did Jinn ever lecture him on attachment and preach to him about being rational and objective and then abandon Skywalker on a war-torn planet so he could whisk his lover to safety? What was Jinn’s reaction when Skywalker revealed that he had a wife, pregnant with twins on the way?

Why was Skywalker offered forgiveness and leeway and a dozen chances when Ben was rebuffed at every advance?

Ben takes a deep breath, but he can’t find his center. He isn’t sure this is what Healer Bisu meant when she told him to face the intersection of his past and his present. He stands, abandoning meditation, and reaches down to touch his toes.

As if this was some kind of cue, Boba bounds over with a staff in either hand. “Spar, buir?” he asks.

Ben is full of restless energy that needs an outlet, but he shakes his head at the offer. “I’m afraid I don’t have the discipline for it at the moment.” He can’t excise his demons and hold back at the same time, and he won’t risk harming Boba through his own lack of control. He needs an equal, someone he can fight with everything he has, who can stand against it and then deliver the same. As much as Boba is developing into a fine fighter, he isn’t Ben’s equal yet.

Boba wilts, both because he can’t help, and because he has been unsubtle in his attempts to showcase Ben’s skills whenever Skywalker is around. Part of the reason Ben doesn’t need to engage in Skywalker’s competitions is because Boba is more than willingly to fight on his behalf.

Their first meeting began when Boba, in full armor except his helmet, stared Skywalker down and said, “Are you a Jedi like buir or are you like Mace Windu who cut off my other buir’s head with his lightsaber?”

Needless to say, their relationship hasn’t improved since, despite Skywalker’s continued, and sincere, attempts.

“I can give you a spar,” Skywalker offers.

The entire training room stills, spars and workouts paused as everyone turns their attention to the two men. Ahsoka looks as eager as Boba does at the prospect of a spar between Skywalker and Ben. Even Rex looks interested, but Ben suspects it’s as much to see a lightsaber duel as it is to see the full extent of Ben’s abilities.

“I appreciate the offer, but as I told Boba, a fight is not what I need at the moment.”

“You said you don’t have the discipline. You won’t hurt me.” Skywalker speaks easily and confidently. He’s a war hero, and he has skills and experiences Ben will never have. But the same is true of Ben. He is at his most dangerous when he’s backed into a corner and desperate.

He isn’t pinned down by enemy fire, protecting a horde of children. He isn’t trapped without food or water until he can make his escape. But he’s desperate all the same. His saber, which rests in its place in his left boot, calls to him. He wants to fight and that is the biggest sign that he should not.

“I won’t,” Ben agrees. “Because I will not fight you. I should review the latest data from Aloriya. Grain and gourds. If everything is still on schedule, we can plan our harvest festival.”

He makes it to the doors before Skywalker calls after him. “Do you hate me?”

His voice is small and hurt, and it pierces through Ben’s shields more effectively than any lightsaber could. Ben sighs and turns back around. He’s aware of the continued attention of the room. He wishes this was a private conversation, without Rex and Cody and Boba to witness. It’s his own fault for so thoroughly avoiding the Jedi.

“I don’t hate you,” Ben says. He leaves aside the Jedi’s pithy statements on hate. Instead, he reaches deep into his nest of hurts. “You are everything I wanted so desperately to be.” The Hero Without Fear. Qui-Gon Jinn’s Found Padawan. “I can’t spar with you, because it would turn into a proving ground, and I would hurt one of us in the process. If you’ll excuse me.”

Ben doesn’t wait for an answer before he leaves the facility. He doesn’t return to his quarters, nor does he trek to the Wellspring. More energy isn’t what he needs right now. He strikes out in the opposite direction until he reaches the winding river which snakes all the way to Aloriya. He tosses a few twigs into the water. If he jumped into the river, would he float somewhere new or would he get stuck along the way?

His contemplation is interrupted by the arrival of another person. He doesn’t need to turn to know it’s Cody.

“Not my best moment,” Ben says.

“I’d disagree. Most don’t know their limits let alone put aside their pride long enough to respect them. Anyone paying attention knew you were purposefully avoiding confrontation.”

Ben ignores the compliment in the first half of Cody’s words and focuses on the second instead. “Are you saying Skywalker—Anakin isn’t observant?”

“Not even a little,” Cody says with a fond sigh. He stands shoulder-to-shoulder with Ben and looks down at the river.

They watch the current for a while. Ben’s reminded of a saying. You can’t step in the same river twice. Rivers, like people, constantly change. Ben likes to think he’s changed for the better, this recent slip toward the past notwithstanding. Fortunately, Skywalker’s visit won’t last forever, and he doubts Jinn will ever step on the planet.

Of course, even that isn’t a guarantee. What is certain is Ben has not completely let go of past insecurities. And while he’s fiercely guarded his privacy, it now feels like a deception and not protection.

“There’s something I should tell you.” Despite his strong start, Ben falters. Cody waits, patient and quiet, next to him, as Ben gathers his courage. Ben didn’t tell his father when he returned to Tatooine after Melida/Daan. He didn’t tell Shmi when he found out which Jedi plucked her son from the desert. He didn’t tell Boba when he found him. And he didn’t tell any of the dozens of AgriCorp workers even though the Jedi who didn’t choose them was a common topic of conversation.

“I didn’t have a typical journey through the Temple. I was assigned to the AgriCorps, but my transport was attacked on the way, and I ended up crossing paths with a Jedi Master, assigned to Bandomeer for a mission of his own. We worked together, and at the end of it, he took me on as his padawan. Our partnership lasted less than a year. Our paths diverged, and I ceased being a member of the Jedi Order. I tracked my father to Tatooine, learned I had outgrown the opportunity to make my home there, and then joined the AgriCorps of my own volition.”

“The Jedi Master,” Cody says. “It was General Jinn.”

Ben exhales slowly. It’s easier and harder to confirm rather than tell Cody himself. “It was. How did you know?”

Cody has a tendency to revert to military posture when he’s uncomfortable. He does so now. “We were made for the Jedi and their war. Each of the command class, we were groomed for our generals. I recognize his scars on you.”

Ben is rather too fragile to dive deeply into that line of conversation.

Cody draws a breath, a slight stutter the only sign he’s agitated. “Xanatos targeted you specifically, then.”

Figures Cody would remember the story from the hot springs. Ben wonders if he’s looking back at all their interactions now that he has confirmation of his suspicions. Does he see Ben in a different light? A poorer one?

“He did.” Ben clasps his hands behind his back. “Withholding the truth felt like lying but I felt telling you would put you in an awkward position. Not that I would presume to think you had to choose between myself and Jinn. But—”

“I understand,” Cody says, gently interrupting him. “I told you, they groomed us for our Jedi. It didn’t mean we were clones of them.” Cody huffs what might be generously termed a laugh. “Sometimes, there were strong similarities. Sometimes, it was quite the opposite. They call him the Maverick Jedi. It’s a title he wears with pride. He is strong in his beliefs, and he follows them with his entire being.” Cody stares off into the distance, recalling memories Ben has no access to. After a moment, Cody sighs. “By the end of the war, I was promoted above most of the generals. Including my own.”

Ben remembers watching Jinn’s spaceship rise and leave him behind on Melida/Daan. He can only imagine the spectacular fights Jinn and Cody had on the bridge of their star destroyer.

“Yeah,” Cody says in response to the expression on Ben’s face. “He wasn’t—he was no Pong Krell, but he adapted to the war easier than some of the others. He could weigh outcomes against risk. It wasn’t that he thought we were expendable or that he didn’t mourn our losses, but he shifted his mind to where the losses were acceptable. I think the Council would have been more permissive if he adhered to their strategies instead of so whole heartedly pursuing his own.”

Ben nods. He didn’t know Jinn for long, but this all lines up with what limited insight he had into the man. For a man so willing to challenge the Council and forge his own path, he was furious when Ben dared to oppose his authority.

“We determined he must have learned to sacrifice early,” Cody says.

Ben closes his eyes and is transported to Bandomeer, to the tight press of a slave collar around his neck, and the certainty that he would die but it would be worth it. Jinn took him as a padawan because of his willingness to do whatever was needed to see the most lives saved. And then he abandoned him for making the same choice on a different planet.

Cody rests his hand on Ben’s shoulder, both to offer comfort and draw him back to the present. “Thank you for confiding in me. I know it wasn’t easy.”

“Thank you for listening.”

They lapse into silence again. Ben’s found comfort even if peace is still a long way off. It’s Cody who fidgets now, as if there’s something he needs to get off his chest.

“I asked General Yoda about it,” Cody says. “I was…bitter. You saw Wolffe with General Koon. General Windu and Ponds are just as close. General Secura is all but married to Bly. Most commanders and their generals were complementary pairs. I was chosen and trained to challenge General Jinn. I understand the necessity of it, but it was lonely. And when I see my brothers with their generals, I’m jealous.”

Ben leans into Cody’s side, offering what comfort he can. “What did Yoda say?”

“Some bantha-sh*t about the Force working in mysterious ways. He paired me with General Jinn to keep him in check. I can’t help but wonder—you were sent to Bandomeer at the same time he was?”

Ben opens his mouth to defend the coincidence and then closes it. It’s years in the past, and he’ll never have a definitive answer, but maybe it wasn’t as much as a coincidence as he thought at the time. He was sent away early, unusual, and without a good reason. Unless the reason was to make sure he crossed paths with a padawan-less master.

“Ahsoka wasn’t meant to be Skywalker’s padawan,” Cody confesses. “General Yoda sent her to him, and then there was a campaign, and we couldn’t afford the ship or escort to send her back. By the time things calmed down, they’d settled into a semi-functional relationship. I’m not sure it’s the Force’s mysterious ways so much as General Yoda’s.”

“It’s possible,” Ben says. Yoda had seemed quite pleased when Jinn returned with Ben in tow. Ben figured it was because they heard the transport had been hijacked, and the troll was simply glad to see Ben alive. “It didn’t work quite as well as planned.”

“Not for Jinn, no.” Cody squeezes Ben’s shoulder. “But I don’t have any complaints on the end results.”

“Flatterer.”

“I must be picking up your bad habits.”

Ben laughs, loud and long, and it’s enough to break the lingering tension. He eyes the river as if contemplating a swim. He’ll wait until the weather warms up a bit more. “Do you know how to swim?” He turns them back toward Jangolare, and Cody keeps pace with him.

“Apparently, we haven’t told you much about Kamino.”

It’s a natural opening to talk about the planet of their creation, but Ben isn’t entirely surprised when Cody doesn’t follow up on it. He follows the man’s lead and leaves what is no doubt a sensitive subject alone. They’ve navigated enough minefields for one day. “There’s a good current on the river. It flows all the way to Aloriya, you know.”

Cody’s lips quirk in smile. “I have a map of Hasiera hanging in my personal quarters and my office.”

Ben can guess from Cody’s earlier comment that Kamino has a lot of water. He can also guess, from what insight he’s gained into the men and their training that they learned to swim for the exercise and for the practicality. A galactic war could take them anywhere, and it would be a waste of effort to train soldiers that drowned in a few feet of water. He doubts they’ve ever swum for the pleasure of it.

“Once it’s warmer, we can float and see how far we can get in one afternoon.” Ben grins at Cody’s expression, mild for most but outright shocked for him. “They had something like it on Astanar. They called it a lazy river. It was man-made so there was no danger, but you’d plop yourself on an inflatable ring and just float in circles for however long you felt like it.”

The trip to the waterpark was an indulgence, but Ben and Boba were between assignments, and Ben felt that Boba deserved better than to jump from one crisis to another. Of course, while Ben took advantage of the heated pools and the lazy river, Boba made it personal mission to set a record for the number of times a being could ride the high slide in one day.

Boba had jokingly told him that if he couldn’t get his adrenaline rush by being in a warzone, he’d have to do it via slide. It was one of those jokes with a hint of seriousness. Ben endeavored to provide more stability after that. He would never be able to give Boba complete stability or even safety, but he could guard their little pockets of it as fiercely as possible.

It doesn’t surprise him that Cody and his brothers aren’t used to play in the same way Boba wasn’t. Ben’s chest aches with a familiar pain. He releases it into the Force, because this moment isn’t about him, and Cody deserves far more than Ben’s pity.

“You and your brothers fought for this galaxy,” Ben says. He slows his steps now that the training facility is in view. Their quiet time is almost at its end. “Some of you died for it. You all hurt for it. I won’t lie and tell you settling an entire planet will be easy. Even from our first few months here, you’ve seen the challenges. But Cody.” Ben stops, and Cody pauses as well, turns to him so they mirror each other. “This isn’t a campaign. There will be an end to your life, yes, but it won’t, Force willing, be measured in months or bases defended or droids killed. This,” Ben gestures to the planet around them. “Is yours now. To work, to develop, but also to enjoy. The war is over. It’s time to live.”

Ben has no right, but he touches Cody regardless, his fingertips against Cody’s cheek. The man turns into the touch until Ben cups the side of his face in the palm of his hand. Cody blinks, slowly, and his lashes stick wetly together.

“I don’t know how.” It’s a whispered, broken confession.

Ben’s seen this before. He often arrived in the aftermath of war, sometimes during the final slog of it. He worked with people to survive, and it meant long hours and grueling work, sacrificing sleep and food and sometimes lives in order to carve out something sustainable.

Something every planet, every people had in common was the struggle to transition from surviving to living. The first time someone slept in and woke in a panic because they were wasting time. The first time someone declined a meal they didn’t like, because they knew there would be something better offered at the next meal. The first time children’s laughter abruptly choked off because they were playing and expected to be scolded for it.

It isn’t a linear journey, and it isn’t an easy one. Ben himself has never completely mastered it. Unlike the people he works with, there is no post-crisis living for him. He simply packs his bags and flies to the next crisis. For Boba’s sake, he learned to carve out moments of peace. A trip to the water park on Astanar, a visit to the wildlife trail on Gubad. Yes, Ben taught Boba to float, to tread water, to swim with powerful strokes, but he also taught him how to squirt water with his hands and sun himself on the beach.

Balance. One of the Jedi teachings Ben’s kept throughout the years.

“You’ll learn,” Ben says. What he doesn’t say, but Cody hears regardless is, I’ll help you.

Chapter 11

Chapter Text

There is a shift after the moment by the river. Ben finds himself in Cody’s presence more often than he had before. They have their typical meetings and briefings and brainstorming sessions. But Ben often finds himself in Cody’s office while he does his reports and analysis, or Cody will bring his datapad to where Ben works on-site.

They’ve found a new comfort level, one they’d been working toward in the beginning, before Ben’s outburst in the garden damaged things. He wonders if that’s another conversation Cody’s revisited with the knowledge of Ben’s former master. He suspects it’s one of the scars Cody recognized.

It’s not only Ben’s relationship with Cody that changes but how the others respond to it. He learns that all he has to do is suggest he would like Cody for something, and whoever he’s in a room with is quick to clear Cody’s schedule or make themselves scarce.

Ben doesn’t abuse the privilege, but he does make judicious use of it when he sees fit.

Today, for instance. Ben hinted that there was an important matter he needed Cody’s input on, and Fives smirked and immediately started bossing people around and rearranging meetings, and now Ben and Cody are in one of the greenhouses.

There are several of them in each major city. There are two main types; the greenhouses meant as a transition from seed or sproutling to being planted and then the ones used for crops of their own. If, Force forbid, storms wreck the farmland from New Dawn all the way to Aloriya, the greenhouses will keep them from starving while they find their feet again.

This particular greenhouse, is a personal indulgence of Ben’s. Oh, he sweet-talked his way into it, gave a proper requisition report on how it was important to have a multi-ecosystem greenhouse where he could test the viability of different plants and their various strains, but it’s here mostly for personal pleasure.

Today, he takes Cody on an abbreviated tour of the floral offerings. There are Alderaanian roses and Nubian lilies. There are water flowers from Mon Cala and the beautiful blooming vines from Astanar. It’s an explosion of colors and scents, and Ben keeps a hand on the small of Cody’s back as he guides him through the humid room.

“What would you like?” Ben asks once they reach the start of the loop.

“They were very pleasing,” Cody answers.

Ben shakes his head. “Not what did you like. What would you like? I saw your window boxes. Spices and herbs.”

“Like any good Mandalorian.”

“Yes. And practicality has its place. But so does beauty.” Ben gestures to his flowers again. “Which is your favorite?”

Cody drifts toward the orchids, and Ben can’t help but chuckle as he follows him there. At Cody’s questioning look, Ben explains. “They’re a fussy flower. They require stringent care and upkeep. I’m unsurprised these are your favorite.”

“Do you think I’m capable?”

“Absolutely. As I said, they require detailed attention, something you are well-suited for.” Ben smiles and gestures to the Astanar vines. “Those, on the other hand, require a bit of specialization. And a certain ruthlessness. They’ll take over an entire building if they’re allowed free reign. They have to be trimmed constantly, and they fight back.”

Cody glances at the unassuming vines. His hand drifts toward his side holster.

“Nothing I can’t handle,” Ben says. “Some on Astanar even cultivate them for that purpose. A kind of living bondage.” He shrugs. “I have paintings somewhere if you’re interested. It’s apparently high art to allow an Astanar vine to frame and display you. I wouldn’t know from personal experience. Boba and I stuck to the water park on our visit.”

“What?” Cody finally manages to say.

Ben focuses on the orchids. “Which ones should we set up in your quarters?”

#

“He gave you flowers?” Rex asks, amusem*nt creeping into his voice.

Ben’s early for their meeting, and he pauses outside the door as he catches a bit of conversation not meant for him.

“We’re not discussing this,” Cody says flatly.

“Can you eat them?”

“No.”

“Sun salve?”

“No.”

Rex is quiet as he thinks. “What’s the use of them?”

“Aesthetic.”

Rex laughs so hard, Ben decides to make himself known before Cody strangles his brother.

#

Cody is far from the only brother to have a window box or even some scattered plants throughout his quarters. The mind healers agree that a validation of life and degree of personal responsibility is integral for most veterans as they transition to civilian life. In the Corps, the mind healers often encouraged pets. On Hasiera, the brothers tend toward plants.

Fives cultivates a cactus. And by cultivates, Ben means he sticks the potted prickly succulent on a windowsill and occasionally flicks some water at it.

“Of course, Cody wants a plant he has to work for,” Fives says when the difference between his choice and Cody’s is brought up.

While there is a tremendously large variations of flora throughout the galaxy, there is a finite amount that Ben brought to Hasiera. It means not everyone picks a plant unique to themselves. But each brother does have a reason for the ones they choose, if they choose any at all.

Echo chooses sweet-smelling lilacs, and he plants them outside the rec center, visible from one of the art room’s many windows, because he heard the plant attracts butterflies, and he thought it would be nice inspiration.

Fives has his cactus and Rex chooses a pollen-heavy flower, not because he cares about the flower itself, but he has it in his head to become some kind of beekeeper and make his own honey. Jumper reads every primer Ben has on plants and decides on a perennial, because he wants something which will bloom year after year. It’s the same reason Cable chooses a strawberry plant. Wolffe makes the trip from New Dawn, picks a sapling and when Ben tells him it will be at least five years before it bears fruit, he says he knows and carts it back to his city.

“It’s a good sign,” Cody says after Wolffe leaves. “He sees this as home.”

“Putting down roots,” Ben agrees. He’s unable to keep a straight face, and he laughs at Cody’s fierce scowl, one that would portend latrine duty or perhaps punishment laps if Ben was under his command. His smile fades as he regards his collection of plants. “Did you want something different?” He limited Cody’s options in a way he hasn’t done to anyone else. He wanted Cody to have something, not for its practical uses but it’s intangible ones. Beauty, pleasure.

“I have what I want,” Cody says.

#

Anakin stays long enough that he decides to extend his trip until the harvest festival, because it doesn’t make sense to make the trip back to Naboo, only to schlep himself back out here again. He tells Ahsoka he’s on a sabbatical to help Padmé with the twins and he tells Rex he’s taking a long overdue shore leave now that the war is over.

He tells Ben something different.

“I’m thinking of leaving the Order.”

“That’s a big decision,” Ben says mildly. He’s successfully avoided any kind of competition with Anakin and, after Ben’s confession in the training center, Anakin’s stopped initiating any. It perhaps wasn’t a natural transition to becoming Anakin’s confidante, but Ben supposes there aren’t many who understand the position he’s in.

“Which is why I’m thinking about it and not acting.” Anakin’s a mix of amused and annoyed, but he settles easily enough. They’re up on one of the mountains which house the hot springs. Anakin doesn’t care much for the heat of the water or an activity which is built around staying still so he hasn’t frequented them as often as Ben might have expected.

Ben’s enthusiasm for the hot springs hasn’t waned even if his schedule still doesn’t allow him to frequent them as often as he’d like. Maybe he’d propose that their morning briefings be held in the hot springs. If Cody could schedule meal-meetings, then surely spring-meetings aren’t too outrageous.

“If you don’t want to talk about it, we don’t have to,” Anakin says. “I’d rather you tell me than punch me.” He offers Ben a tight smile. “You know, if a Jedi knight whining to an AgriCorps worker is too insensitive or something.”

“I will listen,” Ben tells him. “I can’t promise to be unbiased, but I will give the best advice I can, and I will throw no punches.”

Anakin exhales deeply, as if he’s been holding onto this tension for years. “I don’t want to be ungrateful.” That’s a loaded statement. Ben continues his careful study of the surrounding landscape. He’s rewarded when Anakin continues his train of thought. “Slaves on Tatooine don’t exactly have futures. Not good ones, at least. He saved me.”

Anakin’s a complicated riot of emotion; gratitude and guilt, anger and love, frustration and old fear. “He saved me and made me a Jedi. Our first mission was breaking the Trade Federation’s blockade of Naboo and things never slowed down. It was mission after mission and then it was war, and I’m catching my breath for what feels like the first time and I—” Anakin’s voice cracks and he presses his lips together in a firm line.

Ben waits with the patience he’s learned from raising Boba.

“I’m not sure I want to be a Jedi.” Anakin bows his head, confesses into the fabric of his shirt, not, Ben notes, the typical tunics of a Jedi knight.

Ben takes a moment to gather his thoughts, weigh his responses and how much he’s willing to tell Anakin. Finally, he says, “You were born a slave and slaves aren’t permitted choices. Jinn brought you to the Jedi, and I won’t insult any of us by equating the Jedi Order to slavery, but it wasn’t true freedom, either. You were set on the path to becoming a Jedi, and I agree, busy schedules and war don’t lend themselves to time for introspection. With everything settling, you are finally able to reflect. Jinn gave you a better future than slavery, but that’s a pretty low bar.” Ben laughs, encouraging Anakin to laugh with him. “There’s nothing wrong with you exploring the other options for your future.”

“It feels like a betrayal.”

“Are you seeing a mind healer?”

Anakin grimaces but nods. “Padmé insisted.”

All kinds of pride and prejudice interfere with mind healing. Ben isn’t surprised Anakin carries resentment toward the profession. “It’s mandatory on Hasiera.” Anakin’s shock ripples in the Force. Ben intently studies the flakes of micah in a nearby rock. “War will f*ck with you, your head as much as your body. Anakin, you were crucial in saving the galaxy from what I understand was supposed to be complete and utter subjugation under a Sith Lord. Even if you hadn’t, you would still deserve the ability to choose the direction your life takes. I will tell you what I’ve told countless brothers. You deserve to live in this galaxy you fought so hard for. And that life should take whatever shape you choose.”

“I owe Qui-Gon my life.”

“No,” Ben says. This is something else, he’s spoken with the brothers about. “He saved you from a life of slavery, but it doesn’t make you indebted indefinitely to him instead. Just as those you saved from the Zyggerian empire don’t now owe their lives to you. Your life is your own.”

Ben falls quiet to give Anakin time to struggle with the concept, one he’s no doubt wrestled with for quite some time. He wonders if the Temple provided Anakin a mind healer when they became his guardians. Would he have had time for regular sessions with the workload he had?

“I just wanted to help them, you know.” Anakin pulls his knees up to his chest. “Padmé was just a girl, but she was beautiful and sad and scared. Qui-Gon was larger than life, but he needed help too. They lost their hyperdrive and were stuck on Tatooine. They didn’t even know Republic credits were useless in Hutt Space.” Anakin shakes his head as if he still can’t imagine that level of ignorance. “Helping people is all I’ve ever wanted to do. The war showed me how big the galaxy is, how many billions of people need help. And everyone says I’m the most powerful Jedi they’ve ever seen. How can I turn my back on all those people?”

Ah, if I only I knew the answer to that question, Ben thinks ruefully. “There are many ways to help people. And I will tell you what Healer Bisu always tells me; you cannot help others until you first help yourself. Maybe you will commit to this lesson better than I have.”

“You have to put your breathing mask on before helping the guy next to you.” Anakin’s lips quirk in a mirthless smile. “That f*cking safety video. But it’s true. If you suffocate putting on someone else’s mask, you can’t help anyone else because you’re dead.”

“Precisely. How is Padmé handling the addition of twins?”

A genuine smile crosses Anakin’s face. “Admirably. She can’t work as much right now, because they need her so much. We’ve been talking about a live-in sitter or some kind of special daycare.”

“If you were a full-time father, Padmé could direct her full energies to Naboo and the Republic. I imagine she could do a lot of good, facilitated by your assistance.”

“She—” Anakin snaps his mouth shut as Ben’s words sink in. “Yeah.”

“You could work with the slave underground to bring children to Naboo and raise them alongside your own. You could campaign as the Hero Without Fear to end slavery in the Outer Rim. You could join the Jedi High Council and shape their priorities. From what I hear, you could open a pilot school.” Ben finally meets Anakin’s gaze. “There are many ways to help people. If that is your goal, I don’t doubt for a moment that you’ll succeed, on whatever scale you choose to do it on.”

“I’ve—” Anakin tucks himself smaller. “I’ve never really had to choose before. Slavery and then I was Qui-Gon’s padawan and you’re right, it wasn’t slavery, but it wasn’t freedom. He was my guardian, and I followed him where he went. And then it was the war, and everyone was focused on surviving. There are so many choices, I’m scared. What if I make the wrong one?”

“Take it from an expert, you’ll make many wrong choices in your life. Very few are irreversible. Each one of them is a learning experience in and of itself. You are, as they say, a very powerful Jedi. But you have a good heart, Anakin, and it will guide you well. It already has.”

“You aren’t mad?” Anakin rests his cheek on his knees and looks at Ben sideways. “You said it yourself. I am everything you wanted, and I’m talking about throwing it away.”

There’s a harsh undercurrent to Anakin’s words as if he’s angry with himself. Ben allows the anger to wash over him, but he doesn’t let it linger. “You aren’t throwing it away. But to your first point, despite my best efforts, I am still envious of you. You are wanted and I never was. I briefly had a Jedi Master, but I was a burden to him. It’s a terrible weight to put on a child. And when we reached a crossroads…well, I am still bitter he chose someone else over me and I suspect he is still bitter I chose someone else over him. I applied to the AgriCorps myself, because I knew there were few good options for a young, semi-trained Force sensitive.

“I suspect there will always be a part of me which wonders what if I’d been a Jedi. But as has been pointed out to me, it’s quite probable being a general in the war would have broken something inside of me. And I’ve made a life for myself which is not grand, but it is mine and I enjoy it. I have a fulfilling career where I help people. I arrive in the aftermath of trauma and bring life with me. I have a son I love dearly and who I hope I have raised better than the Temple raised me. I have regrets and I have dreams, but I am happy.”

Anakin’s emotions continue to swirl thickly above them. Ben doubts he’ll reach any kind of resolution in the near future, but there’s no real urgency. He has the time to think it through, to talk it over with Padmé and his mind healer and maybe even some of his Jedi friends.

“Well.” Anakin clears his throat. “This isn’t what I expected.”

“I have often been told I defy expectation.” Ben grins, lightening the mood. “I look forward to meeting the twins at the harvest festival. I know I have been absent, and our lack of relationship has been entirely of my own doing, but I’d like to rectify that if you’d be willing. We are family.”

“We are. You’ll be Uncle Ben.”

Ben smiles at the thought and then his expression freezes. “You are also an uncle. Boba has cousins now.” Ben kept his distance from Anakin for personal, selfish reasons. He didn’t even think about how he was keeping Boba from family.

“Uncle Anakin.” Anakin tests out the way it sounds and then shrugs. “As long as I get to be the cool uncle. He’s into jetpacks right now, yeah? There’s a lot of fun you can have with a jetpack.”

“Oh, Force,” Ben says as he follows Anakin down the mountain.

#

Anakin, living up to his reputation as the Hero Without Fear, struts up to Boba the next time they’re in the mess. Every brother in the room turns to watch the interaction.

“So, you have like two million brothers, how do you feel about an uncle?” Anakin asks.

“Will you teach me to kick buir’s shebs with a staff?” Boba asks.

“Deal.” Anakin plops his tray down next to him. “I’ll even throw in some custom upgrades to your jetpack.”

“Jetpacks are the best,” Boba says solemnly.

Chapter 12

Chapter Text

The harvest festival approaches with slowness and speed, like the harvest itself. One moment, the fields are planted, plans in place, and then there are sprouts above the soil and the knowledge that this is real. And then the plants are full grown, bearing fruit or hiding their offerings beneath the dirt, and Ben’s days are split between work which needs to be done now and planning for later.

And then suddenly it is later, and everything needs to be done now, and he stares at his schedule; meetings overlapping with meetings which overlap with work sessions and field inspections, and he stares at his datapad with such intensity, he doesn’t notice when the rest of the room clears out.

“Everyone’s excited,” Cody says. He’s the only one remaining, and he sounds as exhausted as Ben feels.

“Everyone loves a good party,” Ben says. He runs his hand through his hair. It’s getting long. He could ask Clipper for a cut. Or he could continue to let it grow until he can transition from AgriCorp relief worker to shampoo model. Maybe then he’d be able to get some Force-damned sleep.

“I have a list of the Jedi who confirmed they’re coming.” Cody drifts over to Ben’s side. He has it pulled up on his datapad, but as if he knows the last thing Ben wants to do is stare at another screen, he says, “General Jinn isn’t on the list. He’s on a deep-space mission.”

Ben’s more relieved than he wants to admit. There will be more Jedi here for the festival than he’s seen since his time at the Temple. And, as the most important non-brother member of the Hasiera settlement, Ben can’t spend the entire festival hiding. He’s already made Bail promise to rescue him anytime he sees a Jedi approach him. Bail, who is a good friend, sent Ben a list of reasons to take his attention. Ben added another fifteen to the list, and they have a working plan.

Ben rubs his eyes and scans the list. “General Yoda? We’ll need to make sure we serve something to his tastes. I’m not sure if you’ve ever dined with him but his preferences are…” Ben winces, remembering the few lineage dinners he participated in when he was Jinn’s apprentice. “They don’t line up with you and your brothers’. And…f*ck.” Ben knows Mace Windu would be on the list. Ponds, who is overseeing their fourth city, Cuir’yaim, speaks glowingly of his former general.

But Mace Windu is complicated. Ben rubs his eyes again. He needs a nap or a long soak in the hot springs. Barring that, he needs a vat of caffeinated tea. “I need to talk to Boba.” He and Boba have discussed Mace Windu a lot the past few years. Boba won’t assassinate the man at a harvest festival, but there’s a lot of room between killing and diplomatic incident. Maybe it isn’t too late for Ben to plan a multi-day outing with Boba. They can hike into the mountains for the festival and return once all the ugly reminders of their past are gone.

“No,” Cody says, either because he’s learned to read minds or Ben’s mumbling his thoughts again. “You have worked harder than any of us to bring this planet to life. You will be part of the festival. I’ll talk to Boba.” Cody’s fingers skim over the screen of his pad. “Jango wasn’t our buir, not the way he was to Boba, but he was more than a genetic contributor and drill sergeant. It would be easier, I think, if I could just hate him. Nothing is ever that straight-forward.”

Ben thinks about Jinn, how he wants his approval and wants to spit on him at the same time; how he lives his life in defiance of the worst of Jinn and desperately trying to live up to the best of him. “People are f*cking complicated,” Ben agrees.

“So. A big party? Then what?”

Ben laughs. “Then we do it all again.”

Cody groans and sinks down onto the nearest chair. In an uncharacteristic display, he puts his forehead down on the table.

#

Boba arrives at Ben’s door with a tray from the mess hall. It isn’t the same thing as a home-cooked meal, but Ben’s always been the cook out of the two of them. Ben isn’t sure if it’s because Jango never had the time to teach Boba or he never had the inclination, but the boy can’t make a proper meal. Oh, he can boil noodles and mash tubers and throw together a hodgepodge he then dumps spices on, but that isn’t cooking. That’s being a teenager.

As if he can sense Ben’s thoughts, Boba rolls his eyes and elbows his way past Ben into Ben’s quarters. “Your judgement is noted.”

“You’d think after all the care and effort you saw going into growing food, you wouldn’t butcher it in the kitchen.” Ben grins as he settles into a familiar back-and-forth. He glances at the tray, sees Boba didn’t get silverware, and goes to fetch some from the drawer.

“This is why I like hunting. You’re supposed to butcher it.” Boba sets the tray on the table and sits with an insolent smile.

Ben huffs but goes and gets them drinks along with silverware. He spoils the kid. Maybe he’s the reason Boba never picked up the art of cooking. Ben always made sure there was food. Between Jinn’s lack of attention, Melida/Daan’s lack of food, and Tatooine’s general sh*ttiness, he knows what it’s like to be without. He isn’t sure if he succeeded in making sure Boba never knew the feeling, but he did his best.

Ben learned, through trial and error, how to spice things to Boba’s liking. He came up with creative ways to cook tubers when he suddenly had a child who deserved better than the same tuber-and-vegetable mash every meal. Maybe Boba never learned how to cook because he didn’t need to. Ben isn’t sure if that makes him proud or feel like a failure.

“Only Cody finds your brooding attractive,” Boba says.

“I’m not brooding,” Ben says. And then, “I’m sorry, what?”

Boba grins, all teenage sass. Thank the Force, Ben wasn’t on Kamino when the brothers were all surly teenagers. He’s surprised the planet is still standing. “You and Cody. Everyone’s talking about it.”

“Everyone?” Ben asks weakly. “It?”

“I didn’t believe it at first. You’re not as subtle when you’re with someone as you think you are.”

Ben rubs his forehead. Boba walked in on him and Bail one time, and he’s never let it go. They weren’t even in a compromising position. Mostly, because Ben threw a poncho over each of them when Boba called his name, a moment before the door slid open. The quick thinking preserved their modesty, but he isn’t sure Bail’s dignity every recovered from the farm poncho.

“But Echo has notes on everything. There’s a whole system. Brothers report to him what they’ve seen, and there are points and calculations, and everyone’s in on it. Cody stopped denying it, because Anakin kept giving him lectures on the pains of hidden relationships.”

Ben contemplates his glass of juice and then rises from the table so he can pour himself a glass of brandy. It’s from his good shelf so he sips it. Maybe he’ll track down Rotgut later and barter for a bottle or two of moonshine, the disgusting sh*t that has to be chugged and is only good for getting drunk.

“This is serious.” Boba studies the brandy and the Ben as if he’s rearranging details in his head.

Ben wonders how many points drinking out of self-preservation is worth on Echo’s spreadsheet. “Cody and I aren’t together.”

“Buir.”

“Boba.”

Boba sighs. “You let him touch you even when you’re tired and prickly and would slap anyone else away. You nap together. You go to the hot springs with him every rest day. You gave him an orchid because you wanted him to have something pretty in his life. Fives says you should’ve just given him yourself.”

Ben clears his throat and tries again. “Boba, while I appreciate the use of the scientific method and the care Echo’s taken to collect observations and data, he’s drawn the wrong conclusion. I wouldn’t jeopardize our work here with a fling.”

Boba’s expression darkens, but his glare is just as much for Ben as it is for whatever’s in his head. “Cody isn’t a fling.”

“He wouldn’t be,” Ben says. Because if he allowed himself a relationship with Cody, it wouldn’t be a spot of fun every time they were in the same system like him and Hondo. It wouldn’t even be the genuine, but infrequent tumblings he had with Bail. It would be something deeper, something too close to permanent to ever allow himself. “Which is why you should know there isn’t anything between me and Cody. Boba,” Ben waits until his stubborn son grudgingly meets his gaze, “If I was in a relationship with Cody, you would know. Not from gossip or spreadsheets. You would know from me.”

Boba deflates and hunches over his tray. “Fine. You aren’t together. Why not?”

Ben’s getting whiplash from this conversation. “What do you mean, why not?”

“You like him. And he likes you.”

And in Boba’s world, attraction + attraction = lovers. Unfortunately, there are a dozen more factors. Ben and Cody work together. Ben is, ostensibly, a professional. They’re approaching their first harvest festival and after a few more, once everything runs more or less smoothly, Ben will leave for his next assignment.

If Ben were to enter into a relationship with Cody, it wouldn’t be casual. He would leave and long to be here or he would forsake his duty to stay and hate himself for it. Cody is the first person Ben’s ever wanted to stay for and it’s as terrifying as it is new. And they aren’t even f*cking.

“It isn’t that simple,” Ben finally says.

“It could be. You’re alone together all the time. Just kiss him. He’ll kiss you back.”

“And then what?” Ben asks.

“And then you’re together!”

Oh, to be a child again. Ben pushes his food around his plate. “And when I’m reassigned? When I leave, are we content with letters and infrequent comm calls and even more infrequent visits? Do I drop into war zones and disaster relief and make him worry about my safety?” Ben shakes his head. “He was the highest-ranking non-Jedi in the GAR. He has had enough worrying for one lifetime.”

Boba stabs a piece of meat with his fork. “You know what tipped the calculations over for Echo’s program? Cody came to talk to me about the harvest festival. A lot of Jedi are coming. Mace Windu is one of them. The Jedi who killed my buir, and he’s going to be here for a party. Cody talked to me about what it means to be Mandalorian and loss and revenge and a lot of things. And it was like talking to you except it was him and—” Hot, angry tears fill Boba’s eyes.

Ben shoves all his personal feelings into a box to deal with later. His makes his voice as soft as it’s ever been. “Boba, Cody didn’t come talk to you because of feelings he may or may not have for me. He talked to you because of his feelings for you. I won’t presume to guess at your relationship, whether he sees you as a vod or ad or something else, but he cares deeply for you.”

Boba stares at him for a long moment, before he stands and storms out of Ben’s quarters.

Ben knows better than to go after him. Boba needs time to process and sort through his feelings before they talk.

Ben decides a bit of moonshine is a good idea after all.

#

Moonshine on an empty stomach is a bad idea, but Ben doesn’t remember until it’s too late, and he’s well on the way to drunk. He’s in one of the little courtyards, because he likes gardens and plants and being surrounded by living things. Especially uncomplicated living things.

He feels the complicated presence of something not plant-based, but he doesn’t look away from his contemplation of soil composition.

The complicated presence plucks the moonshine from its place of honor within Ben’s reach. “Desperate?”

It’s Cody. Of f*cking course it’s Cody. Ben sighs and rolls onto his back. The other nice thing about the courtyard is it opens up to the sky. The stars are beautiful, and there’s even a little bench if Ben could haul his ass to it. He wonders how many points stargazing with Cody would equal on Echo’s list.

“Boba thinks we’re together.”

“Ah.” Cody’s tone betrays none of his thoughts on the subject, but his nonchalance does suggest this isn’t a surprise to him. “It’s a fast-spreading rumor. My early attempts at denial only encouraged it. I’ve kept my silence since.”

“Rumors are rumors.” Ben waves a hand to emphasize his point.

“And yet they’ve driven you to drink.”

“No, my teenage son has driven me to drink.”

“An important distinction,” Cody drawls, in the tone of someone who doesn’t believe it.

“Very,” Ben says. His slurring doesn’t lend him any kind of credibility but he tries nonetheless.

“You are attracted to me, though.”

“You’re very likable.” Ben speaks with the knowledge he’ll regret it in the morning but without the proper filter to hold himself back.

Cody laughs, sharp and a little bitter, like he intends to cut anyone who comes too close. “You’ll find you’re in the minority in your thinking.”

“My dear Cody,” Ben begins. He intends to tell him all the ways he’s wrong. His brothers love him, it’s obvious in the way Rex teases him and Wolffe’s gruff admonishments and Fives’s respect and Jumper’s awe. He is mythic, the perfect ideal shoved into corporal form, and it makes him incomprehensible but everyone who meets him will be drawn to him to try and understand.

Instead of saying any of that, Ben turns on his side and dry heaves in the grass.

“I’m too old for this,” Ben groans as he tastes bile and the moonshine, even worse on the way up than it had been on the way down.

“That makes two of us.” Cody’s hand is cool and gentle against his forehead, a contrast to his words.

#

Ben’s vague memories of the night end with him in his own quarters, tucked into bed. He hears from various brothers that Cody carried him bridal-style, that Cody was seen sneaking through the hallways at an indecent hour, that they shared a drink under the stars and confessed their love.

The rumors don’t abate.

Ben follows Cody’s lead and ignores them the best he can.

#

It’s hard. Every interaction now, Ben views through the lens of what if.

When Cody joins him for a meal, Ben wonders what if they brushed feet under the table, the start of something playful or the promise of something later. When Cody lingers after a meeting to review details, Ben wonders what if he curled a hand over Cody’s shoulder to draw him in, to take a bit of comfort in the midst of a busy day. When Cody turns his back as Ben strips down for the hot springs, he wonders what if he said no need and invited Cody to look. They could drift together in the warm water, trace each other’s scars and tell the stories of old hurts and past adventures.

The harvest festival is a welcome distraction. Ben throws himself into planning, and if his hair and beard grow longer and he doesn’t tame either, it’s easy to pretend he doesn’t have the time for personal grooming. He is a worker and a specialist and a diplomat and for every hat he’s expected to wear, Cody wears an equal number.

Their private meetings dwindle, and their time together is efficient and almost clinical, and more than one brother glares at Ben as if Cody’s foul mood is his fault.

Senator Amidala is the first to arrive, three days ahead of everyone else, because her husband is here, and she’s tired of being without him. She descends from her ship with a personal guard and several of them look enough like her for Ben to remember the Nubian tradition of queens and handmaidens.

“Papa!” A toddler shrieks and runs down the ramp. Her foot catches on the lip and she tumbles to the ground. There’s a moment of silence, the entire hangar holds their breath to see if she’ll wail. But she gets her feet under her and, with a passing glare at the ground, returns to her mission.

Anakin laughs and meets Leia halfway. He scoops her up into his arms and kisses her knees, dirty but not scraped from her fall.

Luke peers out from behind the legs of one of the handmaidens. He smiles at the sight of his father but doesn’t show Leia’s wildness. His hair, still thin and soft is the color of sand. It’s pulled up in a ponytail at the top of his head, something Ben’s heard referred to as a whale spout.

Ben bows deeply as Padmé forgoes greeting her husband to greet the Hasieran officials, Ben numbered amongst their party.

“Ben.” Padmé smiles warmly and kisses his left cheek and then his right. She greets Cody next and then Rex. Finally, she turns her attention to her husband. “You were supposed to come home.” She’s smiling too broadly to be angry, but she does playfully swat his shoulder and kiss Leia’s forehead before she kisses her husband. “I’m not changing a single diaper while I’m here.”

“Hmm.” Anakin hoists Leia higher up on his hip. “I suppose it’s time to teach you to use a fresher. Or how to squat in the garden.” Anakin turns a blindingly bright grin on Ben. “That’s how you fertilize plants, right?”

“There is so much wrong with that statement, I don’t even know where to begin.” Ben echoes Anakin’s smile and then, duties dispensed, retreats to his office.

#

Leia is loud, opinionated for someone with a limited vocabulary, and inserts herself into every situation she toddles across whether it’s a meal, a game, or a morning briefing. Luke, on the other hand, is nearly silent. If his Force presence wasn’t so strong, Ben would startle every time he looked up to see the little boy. He’s like a shadow, he follows Ben around and simply watches.

When Ben works at his desk, Luke stands solemnly at his side, not tall enough to see over the lip of the table. Ben learns to work one-handed, the other occupied with keeping a toddler on his lap. When Ben conducts field surveys, he often finds Luke waiting patiently by the speeder.

By day three, Ben realizes Luke is just as good at getting his way as his sister, he simply goes about it in a different way.

Ben loves them both, and he comms his father to brag about how great his niece and nephew are. Cliegg responds demanding holos and Shmi asks Ben to please remind Anakin that his mother loves him and is it really so difficult to keep her updated on her grandchildren.

#

Day Four sees Ben back in the spaceport, Luke hoisted up on his hip as the Alderaanian flagship lands. Bail’s brought an entourage but not his wife, and Ben manages to hold back his smirk until Bail’s greeted everyone and reached him.

“A cape?” Ben flicks his wrist and a bit of Force-driven wind stirs the rich purple fabric.

“A kid?” Bail laughs as he tousles Luke’s hair. “You seem to gain another every time I see you. Does Padmé know you’re trying to stealth adopt her son?”

“He’s my nephew,” Ben says in an arch tone. “And Anakin says I can take either of the twins for as long as I want, provided I change their diapers as needed.”

Bail wrinkles his nose. “I’ll volunteer to babysit in a year or two.”

It’s Ben’s turn to laugh. Luke pokes his cheeks, and Ben takes a moment to poke Luke back before he turns his attention back to his friend. They’ve commed and exchanged a few holocalls, but it’s been far too long since they’ve seen each other in person. “Let me show you where you’ll be staying.”

“I can do that.” Fives appears at Ben’s side and beams widely at Bail. “It’s a pleasure to see you again, Senator Organa.”

Before Ben or Bail can protest, Fives has hustled Bail out of the spaceport. Ben looks at Luke and then looks at the retreating figures and shakes his head. “Guess it’s the two of us, kid.”

#

It becomes a pattern. At late meal, Ben and Bail are seated on far sides of the table and once the meal is finished, Bail’s pulled into a conversation with Bly and General Secura. Ben reminds himself that patience is a virtue and, unlike the brothers, he’s at least been in communication with Bail these past few months.

The next morning, Ben wakes early to invite Bail to the hot springs only to be told by Bail’s protocol droid that the senator was already awake and out of his rooms. Ben finds out at first meal that Echo had ambushed him first thing in the morning and taken him to the hot springs, “early, before they’re crowded with all the new people here”.

And then it’s Ben’s turn to be busy. He resorts to handing a flimsi note to Bail’s protocol droid, because nothing else has worked.

“Well, this brings up memories.” Bail grins as he lowers his hood and joins Ben on the bench in Ben’s favorite courtyard garden.

It isn’t their first late night rendezvous. It might be the first that won’t lead to making out. Ben matches his friend’s grin and stretches his arms out across the back of the bench. If his fingers brush Bail’s neck…well, who can blame him?

“It’s been impossible to get our schedules to line up. It’s almost like—” Ben pauses and then takes a deep breath. The brothers have been running interference. That certainly explains Wolffe’s eyeroll before he spirited Bail out of Ben’s sight earlier today. And if Echo’s been monitoring the comms, it would explain why Ben had to resort to handwritten notes to set up a meeting.

Bail laughs, unconcerned by the meddling.

“They think Cody and I are together,” Ben says. “Which means all this nonsense is because they’re afraid I’m going to cheat on him with you. Which is highly insulting and also not very flattering to their opinion of me.”

“Are you together?” Bail’s lips twitch at the corners as he tries to hold back a smile. “I only ask because Padmé and I have a wager going.”

“You are the worst friend I have,” Ben tells him.

Bail refuses to be shamed. “I find that difficult to believe.”

“As soon as this party is over, I’m calling Hondo so he can sprit me away.”

“You’ll cause an intergalactic incident. Boba would certainly chase after you, and there are at leave five brothers he would rope into going with him and then Cody would go to supervise, and it would escalate very quickly.”

Ben sighs. “I suppose I’ll have to stay here, then.”

“You’re happier than I’ve seen you in quite some time. Settled is a good look for you.”

Ben pulls his arms back. He looks away so he doesn’t have to meet Bail’s eyes. “I’m not settled. This isn’t a permanent posting.”

“Oh, my friend,” Bail says softly. He holds his hands up, a surrender before Ben can even properly glare at him. “And that is all I will say on the matter for tonight.”

“For tonight,” Ben mutters. He tips his head back to look at the stars. “We’ve gotten old, Bail. When did that happen?”

“The galactic war might have had something to do with it,” Bail says drily.

Ben laughs and laughs and Bail joins him, and they lean against each other, shoulders shaking.

Chapter 13

Chapter Text

Ben’s plan to avoid the Jedi at the festival by hiding out with Bail is stymied by the troopers running interference between him and his friend. Even Anakin gets in on it and dumps Luke in Ben’s arms before he disappears to try and sweet talk Padmé into a dance.

Ben cuddles the grumpy toddler, has a brief but cordial conversation with Mace Windu, and then Ben manages to foist Luke off on C-3PO. Padmé brought the protocol droid with her when she arrived. Apparently, Anakin constructed C-3PO as a child on Tatooine. Ben privately thinks Anakin should bring the droid to his next mind healer appointment. The healer would have a field day with C-3PO’s anxiety and how it is a reflection of Anakin’s childhood.

Speaking of mind healers, Ben wouldn’t mind slipping away to call his own. This is ostensibly a celebration, but there are too many Jedi for Ben let his guard down. And his plan to soothe his anxiety by hiding out with Bail has been successfully derailed by the combined efforts of the troopers.

What had been amusing at first and then an inconvenience is now enough to make Ben grit his teeth.

Before Ben can make his escape, Cody appears at his side. Cody has been the most popular person at the party. Everyone wants to talk to him, congratulate him on the settlement, or ask him about the plans for the future. Cody has weathered it well, but there’s a faint twitch in his right eye which implies he’s close to his limit.

“I can tell them to back off,” Cody says which would be a non-sequitur, but he and Ben are both looking at where Bail holds court on the far side of the clearing. “You should be allowed to visit with him. You’re…close.”

“He’s a dear friend,” Ben says. He notes the blush which dusts Cody’s cheeks, and the way Cody clenches his fists and then his jaw as if he’s holding something back. Ben isn’t cruel so he doesn’t let Cody continue to think that Ben and Bail have been meeting up for trysts or that Ben even wants to do that. “Not in that way. Not anymore, at least.”

Cody’s gaze flickers over to Ben. “Oh?”

But maybe Ben is cruel, unintentionally, because Cody no doubt believes without Bail as a rival, Ben’s affections are free to be given to another. Ben should tell Cody that he has been off-limits since early in their first meeting. Ben is attracted to Cody, yes, but his self-control is stronger than his desires.

“Bail and I set certain aspects of our relationship aside when I took this assignment. I didn’t want any appearance of impropriety.”

“You ended your relationship for us?” Cody asks.

“You make it sound more noble than it was. Bail and I, our relationship always had an end date, even if we didn’t know when it would be. He has a wife and a planet, and I’ve always been a wanderer.”

“You saw a place for yourself in his bed but not his home,” Cody says.

Ben has the distinct impression that Cody pities him. It doesn’t sit right with him. “Bail and I had a fulfilling relationship while it lasted. I have no regrets. As I said, we knew it would end at one point. This assignment was that point.”

“Is there anywhere you would consider making your home?” Cody asks bluntly.

Ben supposes they have been dancing around this, whatever unnamed thing is between them for some time now. Ben had found Cody attractive from the moment they meant, but he kept his attraction to himself. He knew there was nothing productive to be done with it. He didn’t expect Cody to return Ben’s feelings. And he certainly didn’t expect such a direct question like this.

He should have. Cody is a man of a war, a man of action. Settling Hasiera has been a project in teaching the troopers they’re allowed to want and that they’re allowed to have the things they want.

And Cody has identified Ben as someone he wants.

Ben is humbled, but he is also pained, because he knows his answer will hurt Cody. It may, perhaps, signal the end of Ben’s time here.

Before Ben can answer, they’re approached by Yoda and one of Ben’s AgriCorps supervisors, a Mirilian named Maishi. Maishi has pink skin, and she wears her black hair short in order to call attention to the tattoos on her face. Ben knows the tattoos have personal and cultural significance, but he doesn’t know Maishi well enough to know what hers mean.

He bows to Yoda and then Maishi. Next to him, Cody inclines his head in greeting.

“Successful, your partnership has been,” Yoda says. He has navigated the party today on his hoverchair to make him at an equal height with the others. He perches on his cushion and looks at Ben as if there are no secrets in Ben’s mind hidden from the Jedi.

Ben had once been part of Yoda’s lineage. And, if Cody’s suspicions are right, Yoda had picked Ben out as someone he wanted part of that lineage. Does he recognize Ben? Or have the years shaped Ben’s Force signature into something unrecognizable?

“We were both invested in Hasiera’s success,” Ben answers diplomatically. “But the bulk of the credit goes to Cody and his brothers. Hasiera thrives because of them. For them.”

“We’ve read your reports,” Maishi says and the look she fixes Ben with tells him she won’t let him wriggle out of acknowledgement. “Of particular interest was the recovery and then replanting of the tuber crop. Jedi Master Koon says he was disappointed to arrive in the aftermath.”

Ben senses a trap, but he isn’t sure how to escape it.

“His observations, as well as the observations of the local troopers were added as an addendum to your report. It has garnered much interest, both within the AgriCorps and the Jedi Order. Given the size and scope of the Hasiera settlement, the AgriCorps feels as though it’s in the best interest of the planet to host a permanent AgriCorps posting here. Master Yoda has suggested we take it a step further and create a school of study.”

“Embrace ourselves, we must,” Master Yoda says. “Failed many, we have. Your example, we wish to follow.”

Ben shakes his head. “What?” he asks weakly.

“An agricultural university on Hasiera would provide a place of learning for AgriCorps members, for traditional Jedi, and for those without any Force sensitivity at all,” Maishi says. “There are generations of work to be done here. There will always be opportunities for hands-on experience. Has no one mentioned this to you?” Maishi’s gaze slides over to Cody.

“We’ve been busy preparing for the festival,” Cody answers.

“Hmm.” Maishi doesn’t seem convinced. She turns back to Ben. “We are moving forward with our plans. You are our first choice to oversee this school. Think on it.”

“I will.” Ben covers his surprise with a polite smile and another bow. “Thank you for the compliment, Supervisor Maishi.”

“Grown well, you have,” Yoda tells Ben. “Proud, you should be, for the man you are. For the Jedi you have become.”

“Thank you, Master Yoda. I suppose, the will of the Force is paramount, after all.”

“In the right place, you were, when needed, you were.” Yoda sighs and his ears flatten against his head. “Will of the Force, not always clear or kind it is, hmm?”

“No,” Ben agrees. “If you will excuse me, I must go check on my son.”

Ben leaves the group before any of them can call him back. He does check on Boba, who is content to eat and hang out with his friends, far from any of the Jedi visitors. Assured that Boba is fine, Ben slips out of the party entirely. He has too much on his mind to play nice anymore.

He doesn’t head for the mountains, because he knows the visitors are excited by both the hot springs and the Wellspring. He goes toward the river instead, and he sits along the bank of it and watches the water flow past.

A school.

The AgriCorps is building a school, where they intend to train anyone who is interested in the way of agriculture. It will be open to those with the Force or without. It will be open to AgriCorps members and regular Jedi as well.

It could be a permanent posting. If Ben agreed, he would have a reason to stay here on Hasiera. And he could teach, pass on what he’s learned to anyone who is interested in learning.

Cody knew about it. It might have even been his suggestion. What does that mean?

Ben tosses a few stones in the water. Rather than skipping across the surface, they sink to the bottom. He senses someone approach, and he would recognize their Force signature anywhere. He doesn’t look away from his contemplation of the river. “You should be celebrating.”

Cody sits next to Ben. He’s in a mix of Hasiera’s military-like uniform and pieces of his armor. He sits with his feet planted on the ground and his knees bent. He wraps his arms loosely around his legs and watches Ben toss another two rocks into the river.

“It was my idea,” Cody says. “After you transplanted the tubers, and you said there was no one who could do what you did, I knew we had a problem. Serving in the military taught me the importance of back-ups and back-ups to the back-ups. If there was only one person to do a job, then you would inevitably get screwed over.”

“You are a strategist, and you care for your people,” Ben says.

“And I wanted to give you a reason to stay,” Cody continues. “I was worried with our first harvest festival under our belts, you would start looking for excuses to leave and I’m—” Cody swallows thickly, “I’m selfish enough that I want you to stay. I didn’t mean for you to be surprised by Supervisor Maishi. I had intended to tell you myself.”

“It’s quite alright,” Ben says.

“You never answered my question,” Cody says. “Would you consider making a home somewhere?”

Ben inhales deeply and then exhales slowly. Cody wants him here. He has created an excuse for Ben to stay. All Ben has to do is accept it.

And then what?

“What do you want from me?” Ben asks.

Cody turns to look at him. “Isn’t it obvious?”

Ben meets Cody’s gaze briefly and then looks away. He doesn’t have half of Cody’s bravery. “The longest relationship I’ve had was with a married man. If things ended poorly between us, I could easily avoid his planet. But if I make my home here and—” Ben can’t quite bring himself to finish the thought.

“I wouldn’t kick you out of your home,” Cody promises. “Whether we’re together, we’ve broken up or were never together to begin with, there is a place for you here on Hasiera.”

Ben shakes his head. In his experience, things that sound too good to be true, often are. There is a catch, there is always a catch, and he won’t be lulled into believing he can belong here. There was no home for him with the Jedi, no home for him with his family. He found a purpose with the AgriCorps, but it didn’t give him anything more.

“And,” Cody clears his throat and continues. “If that’s your only reason for resisting a relationship with me, then you should let me take you to dinner. Fear of a possibility shouldn’t keep you from something you want.”

“I’ve only had casual relationships,” Ben says. “My work and Boba has always had to come first, and I always knew I would leave at some point. I’m not sure I could be casual with you.”

“I also have work and a family,” Cody points out. “But I won’t pressure you. I’ve made my offer. Let me know if you want to accept.”

“Now?” Ben asks.

Cody huffs a quiet laugh. “You can think about it. As I said, I’m not going to pressure you.”

“I feel as though I’ve done nothing but think about you,” Ben mutters. And then he realizes what he’s just implied, and he flushes.

Cody just laughs quietly again. “It’s been the same for me. Our training on Kamino taught us we were made for the Jedi. I fought a war alongside generals and high generals and commanders. And then the war ended, and I met you, and you were nothing like the other Jedi I’ve met. Well…” Cody’s eyes light up as his smiles. “You’re just as reckless and have no sense of your own limits.”

“Go back to saying nice things,” Ben says. “I liked that better.”

Cody stretches out on his back and looks up at Hasiera’s sky. “Your staying isn’t contingent on a relationship between us. You can accept the teaching position whether we’re romantically involved or not.”

Ben settles down on the grass next to Cody. “You’re a good man.”

#

Ben and Cody’s first date goes better than Ben expected. When he accepted Cody’s offer, Cody arranged for them to eat at one of the many food stalls which has popped up since Hasiera’s first harvest came in. They take their food and eat while they walk. They keep up a quiet conversation, occasionally interrupted by pointing out Echo’s spies.

Cody complains that they’ve lost all subtly and subterfuge since the war ended, and Ben makes sure to brush some dirt off Cody’s shoulder and wipe invisible sauce off his cheek in order to mess with Echo’s data collectors.

Their date ends near the river, where there’s no audience to capture the way Cody cups Ben’s cheek gently before he leans in to leave the softest kiss Ben has ever had against Ben’s lips. Cody walks with Ben back to Ben’s apartment after, but there are no more kisses. Instead, Cody strides purposefully down the hall and Ben leans in his doorway and watches him wistfully. Once Cody turns the corner, Ben makes eye contact with Jesse and winks before he ducks inside his apartment.

The first date was Cody’s to plan which means the second is Ben’s. He sticks with food and then he recruits help.

“Tiingilar?” Boba’s suspicious as he joins Ben in the apartment.

Ben gestures to the array of ingredients on the counter. “Our favorite kind, even. I wanted you to help me make it.”

Boba’s suspicion grows as he shuffles over to inspect the ingredients Ben set out. He pokes at the peppers; they come in three different varieties and five colors. “Who are you trying to impress?”

“Am I that obvious?” Ben asks.

Boba pinches the stem of a chikkik pepper between his fingers and holds it up. The lavender pepper is spherical in shape and while its shell is good for flavor, it’s the seeds of the chikkik pepper which it’s most valued for.

“Fair enough,” Ben says. He leans against the counter. “Do you remember when you were upset about Echo’s spreadsheets?”

“You told me I wouldn’t find out about a relationship you were in from the rumor mill.” Boba gasps and drops the pepper back onto the counter. “Buir?”

“Cody and I are dating,” Ben says.

Boba darts forward and throws his arms around Ben in a tight hug.

“Yes, yes.” Ben awkwardly pats Boba’s head.

“We’re going to make the best tiingilar,” Boba says. He squeezes Ben hard enough for Ben’s ribs to creak and then he darts back to their array of ingredients. “Does this mean you’re going to accept the teaching position? Everyone says it was created to try and lure you into staying. Echo says…” Boba trails off and then darts a look at Ben as if hoping Ben will have somehow not heard that last bit.

Since Ben doesn’t want to know Echo’s thoughts on what they could do to lure him into staying, Ben doesn’t pursue the subject. Instead, he drops the cut of meat he selected into the slow cooker. He adds a liberal amount of spices and then, when Boba’s back is turned, adds another two shakes.

He places the lid on the slow cooker and then he and Boba work side by side as they chop vegetables.

#

Ben invites Boba to eat with him and Cody which Boba agrees to, mostly because he wants to eat the tiingilar he helped make. Ben’s pretty sure this is what paradise is for him, his family eating a shared meal together, and the promise of a little fun once the dishes are done.

Boba eats two large helpings of casserole, and Ben can see him eyeing the dish, even as he rubs his stomach, trying to determine if there’s any space left for more food.

“I’ll send you home with some,” Ben promises, because he doesn’t want Boba to make himself sick.

“Enough for Jumper and Cupcake too?” Boba pushes.

“Only if you actually share with them,” Ben answers. He takes his plate and Cody’s as well as he goes into the kitchen. He grabs a dish with a lid and fills it to the brim with leftovers. And then he selects a second and fills it for Cody.

Boba makes a gagging sound from the table.

“Oh, is that how it’s going to be?” Ben asks. He turns so Boba can see the look of sheer delight on Ben’s face and react appropriately. Ben can’t help but grin as Boba glances toward the door, as if calculating how long it will take to escape. Ben hands Boba his bowl of leftovers. And then he circles the table so he can kiss Cody thoroughly.

Ben’s lips are already buzzing from the tiingilar, but the kiss is still pretty spectacular.

“Buir!”

“What?” Ben asks, innocently, as he looks over at Boba. “Oh, did you think now that I was in a relationship, you could tease me over it? Boba, my child, it’s as though you don’t even know me. It’s my job as your buir to thoroughly embarrass you using any means at my disposal.”

“I’m telling Echo about this,” Boba huffs.

“Take a picture or he won’t believe you,” Cody advises and then he pulls Ben down so he can kiss him slowly, leisurely, giving Boba plenty of time to take said picture.

Instead, Boba makes an outraged sound in the back of his throat. A moment later, Ben hears the tell-tale sound of the door closing. He breaks his and Cody’s kiss long enough to confirm they’re now alone in the apartment. And then he takes Cody’s hand and leads him to Ben’s bedroom.

“You are devious,” Ben says, and he sounds as besotted as he feels.

Cody grins and pushes Ben down onto the bed. He follows Ben down and straddles him, Cody’s powerful thighs bracketing Ben’s waist. “I bet we can thoroughly f*ck up the betting pool.”

“I’ve heard of fake dating, but I’ve never heard of fake not-dating,” Ben says. “I do enjoy a good challenge.”

“I’m sure I can manage to give you one or two of those,” Cody says. He grins and leans down to kiss Ben again. This time, he doesn’t stop until they’re both rutting against each other, half-hard like they’re teenagers and not fully grown adults. Cody trails his fingers over Ben’s eyebrow and then down the bridge of his nose. He thumbs at Ben’s bottom lip. “Is this too fast?”

Ben laughs and rolls them so they’re side-by-side on the bed. It’s his turn to trace Cody’s features; first the strong, dark eyebrows which are expressive enough to have a language of their own. He traces the curve of Cody’s scar and then sweeps his thumbs over Cody’s cheekbones.

“I’m not sure this is too fast so much as what we’ve done up to this point has been too slow.”

“I didn’t want to scare you off,” Cody says.

“Are you calling me skittish?” Ben’s amused and doesn’t bother to hide his smile. He’s been accused of being many things in his life. Skittish has never been one of them.

“Are you saying I’m wrong?” Cody arches his perfect eyebrows and Ben is helpless to do anything but lean in for another kiss.

Perhaps, Ben is skittish. And while he doesn’t need gentle handling, he wouldn’t be opposed to something slow and lingering for his and Cody’s first time. Later, they will have plenty of time for stolen moments and quick gropes in storage closets. But there’s no rush right now.

There is no war outside their door, no looming crisis. Neither of them are needed. There is plenty of want but they have an entire night to address that. And then, after tonight…

After tonight, it is Cody’s turn to plan their next date. There is no need for Ben to panic or worry about how far out their future will go. They will take it one day at a time. One moment at a time.

And right now, Ben is fully committed to enjoying this moment.

Ben rolls them again. Cody ends up on top again, his weight a heavy comfort against Ben’s body. Cody leans back on his heels. His eyes are bright with desire and his lips are a shade darker than they were before they began kissing. He is relaxed, and his gaze roams over Ben’s face as if cataloguing all of the matching details Ben is sporting.

“You have me,” Ben says. Tonight. Tomorrow. For however long they walk this path together. “What do you intend to do with me?”

“I intend to keep you,” Cody says and then he captures Ben’s lips in their most passionate kiss yet.