Forgive Me, My Dear

Title: Forgive Me, My Dear
Fandom: Star Wars
Genre: Time Travel, Sci-Fi, Fix-It, Kid!fic
Pairing: Gen, Qui-Gon Jinn & Obi-Wan Kenobi
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Canon-typical themes. Discussion of child murder, mention of the clones, and other vague references to Star Wars canon events.
Author Note: I started this as a little birthday present for KM back in October, but the autumn was rough for me, and not much writing was happening (much less finishing). I decided to revive it and finish the first part for Big Moxie. The main story is a 2-part arc, and there’s a 3rd part I plotted that’s a more distant look at the events and their ramifications. I haven’t named the series yet, so that’ll happen later. The 2nd part will be out as another bingo story. Anyway, I can’t begin to imagine why I plotted a Qui-Gon time-travel story for Keira, since we both have similar feelings for him, but I did, and even though it’s been many moons and calamities since October, this is for her.
Note 2: I know some people will stroke out and say this is a cliffhanger. This first part ends exactly where it should, which is at the emotional resolution for QGJ and OWK. There are plot points that are not resolved, but the emotions absolutely are resolved. Think about which one you’d prefer to be left hanging. You’re welcome.
Note 3: Timeline is a little wonky. OWK should be a little older where this is placed, but meh. I do what I want. Don’t think too hard about it.
Challenge: Big Moxie, Q1 Second Chances & Just Write Create Your Own Bingo, Round 2 – Trope Bingo, Prompt: Accidental Baby Acquisition
Word Count: 6500
Beta: Thank you, Ladyholder
Summary: Qui-Gon Jinn wakes up in the past, in his old temple rooms, long before everything went wrong, with the opportunity to fix things with all of his padawans. He thinks he knows why the Force sent him back, but the Force has a few surprises in store.

Forgive Me, My Dear

Qui-Gon woke to a familiar room, filled with familiar life, the Living Force moving about him in comfortable and welcome ways. It was familiar, and yet it was familiar from long, long ago. He took a deep, shuddery breath and rose, staring around his quarters from many years in the past. An Alderaanian orchid of shimmery blue and pink spoke to a very specific time in his past. They only lived for fifty-two days precisely. From moonrise on the first day to moonrise on the fifty-second they bloomed and then they died.

“So, this is when you would send me, my lady. Why is this the day? Would he not be very young?”

He well knew his mission from the combined aspects of the Force, but it was so different to feel the pull of the nearly untainted Living Force once again. And it was only nearly untainted. When he’d lived this the first time, he’d have said the Force was as the Force was meant to be, but after having communed with an untainted aspect of the Force for so long, he could easily feel the tiny tendrils of corruption eating away at the edges.

Still, it was the Living Force. The aspect of the Force that he had surrendered to long ago, and he knew he would have to exist in harmony with the Living Force in order to carry out this mission. To go against the direction of the Force’s pull on him would be disastrous.

There was a distinct clank in the common room, so he completed his ablutions in the fresher as quickly as possible, then joined his padawan.

“Good morning, Master. I’ve prepared the tea. I’m sure I steeped it correctly this time.”

His heart seized a bit at seeing Xanatos. Still so young, idealistic, and ready to be a Jedi—wanting desperately to make anyone proud of him. “I’m certain it’s well done, Xanatos.” Qui-Gon smiled gently, fighting the urge to hug the boy. He’d made so many mistakes with all of his padawans, but perhaps none so much as with Xanatos. Too much time to reflect on his own mistakes had been difficult.

It was easiest to see his mistakes with Feemor, most painful to see the ones with Obi-Wan, but there were so many opportunities with Xanatos for a different outcome, and it was Qui-Gon’s own arrogance that had made him blind to the problem.

In point of fact, the length of his own beard was also a clue as to when he’d arrived in time. Before Xanatos had gotten cocky with an Ataru move and removed a fair bit of it. From then on, Qui-Gon had kept the length a fair bit shorter.

Xanatos smiled brightly as Qui-Gon took a sip of the tea. It was under-brewed this time, which was a sight better than over-brewed.

“Very well done. Much like with meditation and our lightsaber forms, every type of tea requires patience and attention to the important details.” He smiled more broadly. “Perhaps you were focused on me waking up?”

Xanatos’ expression fell. “I underbrewed it.”

“By just a bit, but I know many who have tried for years and have not done so well. It is still very good, and I appreciate the effort.”

Xanatos blinked a few times. “Master, are you all right?”

“Mm. I think the Force has a mission for me.”

“Not for us?”

“It’s a Search.”

Xanatos’ face scrunched up.

“Yes, I do know how you feel about those.” Xanatos was disinclined to spend time with young children, and most Searches guided by the Force were to the very young.

“You almost never get sent on a Search.”

“We all do as the Force wills, Xanatos. I will say you need to be prepared to deal with those younger than yourself at some point in your training. It’s not good to isolate yourself only with your peer group and Jedi Masters. In any case, I might send you and Feemor on an errand for me while I take care of retrieving this child.”

“What kind of errand?”

Qui-Gon gave him a stern look. “The kind that you will do with good grace and attention to detail.”

Chastised, Xanatos dipped his head. “Of course, Master.”

“Wonderful. Now, the tea is still excellent, so I am going to my meditation mat with it to commune with the Force and prune my plants. Take yourself off to the salles and work on your Soresu.”

“Soresu?!”

“It’s your weakest form, and I think it’s a time for us all to shore up on where we are weak.”

“My weakest form is Vaapad,” Xanatos countered.

Qui-Gon laughed as he settled on his meditation mat. “If you think you can persuade young Windu to teach you his newest form, be my guest.”

“He’s not teaching anyone. You know that.”

“Yes, while the Council reviews whether or not it is advisable to teach such a form to a broader audience. So, go focus on your current weaknesses before you try to collect new ones.”

Xanatos sighed. “Yes, Master.”

As soon as the door closed behind him, Qui-Gon did spend a few minutes in meditation to center himself, then sent a couple of very important comms necessary for the journey ahead. Finally, he sent a message over his comm asking if Feemor would be available for a meeting. He knew Feemor was in-temple, which he was sure was part of the reason the Force had chosen this date as the day to send him back.

Instead of a response, Feemor simply let himself into Qui-Gon’s quarters ten minutes later.

Qui-Gon smiled softly at the familiarity. This was before too many arguments had let them drift apart from one another. Certainly, before Qui-Gon’s foolish and unthinking words had repudiated his padawan and then his own pride had kept him from correcting his mistake.

He rose from his meditation mat, and before Feemor could finish divesting himself of the various items he’d brought, Qui-Gon had pulled his precious first padawan into a bruising hug.

“Oof.” Feemor flailed a bit and then awkwardly patted at Qui-Gon for a few seconds before returning the embrace. “Are you well? Should I call the healers?”

Qui-Gon shook his head.

Feemor chuckled and held on a little tighter. “Too much Alderaanian brandy, my old master?”

“No.”

A frisson of unease rippled through Feemor’s Force presence. “Master?”

“I’m fine; I swear it.”

“You’re clinging like a drunk Wookiee, and considering your size, you’re only missing a bit of fur for the comparison to be more apt than one might otherwise think.”

Qui-Gon pulled back with a chuckle, squeezing Feemor’s arms. “I am fine.”

“You look near tears. Master, that’s not typical for you. I think I should call the Halls, and—”

“I had a rather intense vision last night,” Qui-Gon interjected.

Feemor’s eyebrows shot up. “Now I really think I should call the Halls. Since when do you have any leaning towards the Unifying Force?”

“Cosmic Force, I think, in this instance.” He considered. “Yes, definitely the message would have been from the Cosmic aspect of the Force.”

Feemor’s eyes went wide. “The Cosmic Force was knocking on your thick skull? Master, you aren’t predisposed towards visions, and the Cosmic Force can hit like a Rancor through your skull. You really should get this checked.”

“How about it if I promise to do that right after I ask my favor and before I leave on my mission?”

“You are now volunteering to go to the Halls?” Feemor’s nose scrunched up. “Did you see the universe end?” he joked.

Qui-Gon couldn’t stop his facial expression from doing something he didn’t intend.

Feemor’s knees seemed to go wobbly. “Oh, sweet Force.”

Qui-Gon quickly took the chair next to him. “Nothing so urgent right now, but I fear there may already be some things that are nearly too late to undo. In any case, there is a Search I’m to undertake as soon as possible.”

“A Search,” Feemor repeated as if he’d never heard the word in his life. “And I suppose you want me to watch over Xanatos? Never mind that I might have another mission, or that he should accompany you even if he finds Searches vexing. And if not that, he’s old enough to stay in the Padawan dorms.”

“Peace, Feemor. I was considering your advice of late about Xanatos, and I know I’ve turned a deaf ear to your warnings about his arrogance and unwillingness to listen to many, if not most, others. One thing I saw was how detrimental this will be for all of us—on some level—and how wrong I was to discount your advice.

“I may be strong in the Living Force, but you’ve always been better with the actual living beings than I am, and you’ve always been level-headed and wise in such matters. I apologize for disregarding your counsel.”

“You needed a vision to show you I was wise?” Feemor asked with arms crossed.

“No, the vision simply showed me an unfortunate end for Xanatos. The other conclusions are my own. Regardless, the favor I would ask of you… Hm. You are not wrong that it is most appropriate for Xanatos to be with me. However, this is a mission I must undertake on my own. And so I ask you, the person I trust most beyond myself—”

“Yoda.”

“No. You. I have a complicated history with my lineage, and it’s one we will sort out in time. But if you could please escort Xanatos to Rael, I would be most appreciative. I’ve outlined the issues I see in Xanatos to Rael, and if you’d give Rael your first-hand account, I would be very grateful. Then leave Xanatos in Rael’s care. Whether you stay or go is, of course, at your discretion.”

Feemor stared with his mouth hanging open. “You’re turning your padawan over to your lineage brother’s tender mercies? Are you trying to turn Xannie into a pirate?”

Qui-Gon snorted in amusement.

Feemor sighed. “Of course I’ll escort Xanatos to Master Aveross. And I’ll probably stay, just for the entertainment value.”

“It won’t interfere with your mission schedule?”

“I was embarking on a research project, which I can do the work from Rael’s fortress.”

Qui-Gon’s lips twitched. “May the Force be with you.”

“And also with you.” Feemor rose to his feet and pointed at Qui-Gon. “Don’t think you’re getting out of a long conversation when we’re in the same place again.”

“Of course, padawan-mine.”

~*~

Qui-Gon set his ship down where the Force guided him.

It was an open field surrounded by trees. A river could be heard rushing nearby.

Stewjon was sparsely populated by most planetary standards, with only a few million residents. There were a few major population clusters in the most temperate zones, which were largely surrounded by fields dedicated to agriculture. Beyond that was incredibly inhospitable, craggy landscapes, roiling seas, and abundant wildlife. Despite how hostile much of the landscape seemed to be, there were still clusters of villagers in those terrible lands who seemed to hunt for the large game and traded with farmers for grains.

Technology was entirely an import and was bartered for based on rare metals that were so incredibly rare the galaxy at large would pay almost anything for them. The people who dubbed themselves the ‘highlanders,’ living in the worst of the planetary conditions, in rocky, snowy terrain, were those capable of extracting the rare metal the galaxy was so desperate to trade for. Off-worlders had tried thousands of years ago to mine the mineral, but the accounts in the Archives were that off-world mining techniques didn’t work on Stewjon. Only the methods used by the native people worked, and they wouldn’t share their methods with anyone.

The barter system on the planet was very egalitarian. Everyone got what they needed from the cycle of trade that stemmed from the greatest wealth coming from off-planet due to the metals, and then cycling through to everyone getting fed from the crops grown by the farmers.

The one thing this relatively calm planet had no tolerance for was the Force. For some reason, which was obscured to him, they would rather kill a Force-blessed child than send them off-world. And they certainly would not suffer one to live on their planet.

None of which Qui-Gon had known before he’d made his Force-guided run through the mountains, evading detection with the aid of the Force. The Force had given him all he’d needed through brief visions, and he realized he was here to save the life of his third padawan. The rest he’d gleaned through his Archives access while he’d been waiting.

In the first timeline, Knight Plo Koon had been Obi-Wan’s Searcher.

And in this time, as Qui-Gon had been approaching the system, he’d been hailed by Plo, who had laughingly said the Force had been guiding him this direction but then abruptly pulled him away.

Qui-Gon had said he was unsure why he’d been called to be here, but he’d comm if he got in over his head.

Plo Koon had seemed surprised by the admission that Stewjon might be a bit more than Qui-Gon could handle, but he’d simply dipped his head and acknowledged that every recorded instance of a Searcher’s trip to Stewjon was known to be painful, and if Qui-Gon wished to discuss it at a later date, Plo would happily listen.

Now, Qui-Gon was standing by his small ship, waiting for guidance from the Force, when a different guidance came to him. A familiar Force presence sang sweetly like a bell, so bright and perfectly suited to this place that Qui-Gon could only conclude that it was a Dark working that had brought these people to this terrible act of violence against their own well-being, generation after generation.

Obi-Wan’s Force presence was in harmony with the very planet; it resonated with the far-off mountains, and made the Living Force swell with delight, but also anticipated pain.

Qui-Gon found himself behind an ancient tree at the edge of the water, feeling that sweet Force presence approaching. Then he could hear a woman singing in a foreign tongue, in what had the cadence of a nursery rhyme.

She stepped out of the trees with a baby in her arms. He was twelve to fifteen months old by the standard calendar. Qui-Gon cocked his head and listened to the Living Force, who informed him the child was eleven months old. An image sprang to his mind. Another month would require ritual sacrifice in the village if they confirmed Force sensitivity. The mother was allowed to handle it if she did so before the child was a year old.

She was focused on her child as tears poured down her face. The baby had little red curls popping out around his blanket.

Qui-Gon stepped into her path, making her give a startled screech and step back, holding Obi-Wan close to her chest. But Obi-Wan gave a screech of delight and flailed his chubby hands in Qui-Gon’s direction.

“Ma! Ma! Ma!”

She stared wide-eyed at Qui-Gon as she looked around as if not sure what she should do.

“Do you speak Basic?”

She nodded.

“I cannot allow you to hurt the child.” He peeled back his cloak enough to reveal his lightsaber. “He will come with me and be well cared for, but I have been sent here to prevent you from harming him.”

“I must. For the sake of our people. For the rest of my children.”

Qui-Gon sighed and reached for a small kit he had grabbed for reasons he couldn’t fathom at the time. “Give me the child, and I will find a solution for you.”

She hesitated.

“I swear upon my oaths as a Jedi that I will cut you down where you stand before I allow you to take a step away from me with that baby. Am I perfectly clear? It’s obvious to me you do not want him to die, so let me help you.”

With a choked-off sob, she took a jerky step forward and thrust Obi-Wan into Qui-Gon’s hands.

Obi-Wan squealed with pleasure and buried his face in Qui-Gon’s beard even as his Force presence swirled around Qui-Gon like a mini maelstrom. “Ma ma ma ma ma!”

Qui-Gon couldn’t help but chuckle. “It’s good to see you too, little one.” He pulled the small device from his kit. “This won’t hurt a bit.” It was designed for children and specifically made to be painless; however, because the sample size needed for the med droid to do pathogen testing was relatively small, he had to run the extraction five times to get a reasonable amount of blood. Nothing much in the general course of things, but he needed enough to be convincing. The Force was adamant that it be Obi-Wan’s blood, or Qui-Gon would have used his own.

There was a towel in Qui-Gon’s kit that was plenty large for the child, so he stripped Obi-Wan down to his diaper and handed the rough blanket and the sleep clothes back to the mother along with the collection of blood. “It’s up to you to be convincing.”

She clutched both and nodded. “I can be. I thought I could do it less painfully, so it had to be me, but I just want him to have a good life.”

Sighing, Qui-Gon offered a bit of flimsi with his comm code. “If you have another child with similar traits, you should call me before it becomes urgent and before you’re forced to do something foolish.”

She tucked it into her tunic. “I’ll learn it later and then destroy it. You swear he’ll be all right?”

“Yes.” Qui-Gon put his big hand over Obi-Wan’s head, who was already asleep, face tucked up under Qui-Gon’s beard, blowing spit bubbles against Qui-Gon’s collarbone. “The Force needs him to save the galaxy. And I wish that wasn’t at all true.”

She blew out a shaky breath and nodded. “Obi-Wan Kenobi.”

He hesitated. “Family name?”

“No. It’s so no one will ever know which family he came from. It means no one of no clan. All who leave here take the name.”

Qui-Gon squeezed his eyes shut, hating that he’d missed such an important detail and wondering why the Force hadn’t let him know this before now. The Force has shown him so much about his padawans in his decades in her embrace, why not this?

Because this is when you were meant to know, child. Be at peace.

Her voice was barely a whisper across his mind.

He dipped his head to…Ben’s mother. “I will return to my ship and wait until the Force guides me to leave. Go down river to bloody his clothes. The Force will ensure I leave at the time that protects us all.”

With a trembling hand, she touched Ben’s back with her fingertips and then spun around and darted back into the trees.

Qui-Gon returned to his ship with precious cargo.

The Force led him to a light meditation as soon as his ship was secure, and it guided him on how to gently break the Force bonds that little Ben had already formed with the very planet.

He put the child into a Force-suggested sleep, to ensure this didn’t cause him discomfort, and then proceeded to ease away the tethers the Force had created between Ben and the Kyber core of the planet itself.

~*~

Ben was still sleeping when Qui-Gon achieved a safe orbit above Stewjon, but he’d not been guided about where to go. When he’d started to punch in the coordinates to return to the temple, the Force had resonated with a “NO!” so strong it had made him feel deaf from something that wasn’t even a sound.

While waiting for the Force to give him a nudge, he tried to comm Plo Koon. Fortunately, his friend was still in range. Plo was considered a seasoned enough knight that the Council no longer frowned upon him taking missions with his former Master, Tyvokka, who, of late, was also on the Council, so Qui-Gon wasn’t surprised to see both faces appear on the holo. They must have met up right after Plo called off his Search.

“Need backup on Stewjon, my friend?” Plo asked as Tyvokka ate an entire melon in one bite in the background.

“No, I simply wanted to pass along some information. Has it been some time since there’s been a search to Stewjon?”

“Yes,” Tyvokka replied, in his distinctive accent of Shyriiwook. “Often years between. And when we are prodded, we don’t always arrive in time.”

“It might be worth slipping a shadow to investigate. From what I can tell from the currents of the Living Force on the planet, Force sensitivity is likely only a few per generation. There’s some sort of Force-specific number that will make sense in retrospect.”

Tyvokka leaned forward. “How do you know?”

“The core is at least partially kyber, though there’s no vergence here, which is unusual for this type of planet. But the child I retrieved is less than a year old and has Force tethers to the whole planet.”

Tyvokka choked, and Plo Koon pounded him so hard on the back that Qui-Gon was sure his own spine would have been dislodged.

Plo’s respirator wheezed a bit in response for a moment before he sighed mournfully. “It must be so painful to remove a child from the planet, then.”

“The Force showed me how to safely break the tethers, but this situation requires investigation. I think a shadow trained in the right skills on-planet would get a picture of what the Force’s design here was, because it’s clearly being subverted. We might not be able to help, or we might be able to redress a great wrong.”

“We won’t know until we try,” Tyvokka. “We will see you at the temple.”

“Unfortunately, the Force is guiding me not to take this particular child back to Coruscant. Or any Jedi temple,” Qui-Gon said with a frown.

“Qui-Gon,” Plo chided. “You can’t just take him wherever you wish.”

“I can take him wherever the Force leads.”

Tyvokka made a discontented rumble. “Send us the coordinates of wherever the Force is sending you. I’d like the Force to give me such guidance as well.”

“It’s like you don’t believe me when I say it was the will of the Force,” Qui-Gon said with a laugh.

“Only Yoda believes you, and he only pretends to believe you.”

There was a stirring in the Force and then a sharp pull on Qui-Gon through the Force, followed by a discontented, “Bah!” which somehow sounded very different from what should be a rhyme to Ma.

“Ah, my guest is awake.”

Tyvokka made an impatient gesture, so Qui-Gon rolled his eyes and left the holo capture on as he got up and retrieved Ben from his makeshift bed.

“Ma!” Ben yelped with delight when he saw Qui-Gon.

“Hello, little one. Come on up. We still don’t have a course, but we have some guests and then we can sort out a meal I think.”

He sat back in the pilot seat, and Ben immediately laughed and waved, bouncing in Qui-Gon’s arms, pointing at Tyvokka. “Prit.”

Qui-Gon stared, trying to decipher. “Ah, yes. Your mother must have told you everything was pretty.”

Ben laughed and clapped. “Prit!”

Plo wheezed with laughter.

“Yes, he’s very pretty,” Qui-Gon agreed. “The prettiest Wookiee in all the land. Can you say Wookiee?” He drew it out very slowly. “Wookiee.”

“Wook. Wook. Wook. Wook.”

Plo began laughing again, and Qui-Gon smiled as well because Ben sounded like a chicken.

“Very good, Ben.” Qui-Gon kissed his head. “That’s a very pretty Wookiee.”

“Wook.”

Tyvokka gave a long-suffering sigh.

“Incidentally,” Qui-Gon said in a neutral voice, “the traditional name they give the children who they manage to get off world or who we rescue…?”

“Obi-Wan Kenobi?” Plo supplied

“Means no-one of no clan. So I’ve been calling him Ben for now.”

“You certain we don’t need to start a land war?” Tyvokka snarked.

Plo cocked his head. “Qui, is something going on with his eyes?”

Qui-Gon turned Ben enough to look at his eyes, which looked like little galaxies for some reason, swirling with hundreds of spots of light. And his gaze was vacant. Then he was reaching out for the nav console. Since the nav console was just coordinates and not going to harm anything, he moved the baby closer.

With surprising dexterity, Ben thumped his hand down on various buttons, inputting a set of coordinates. When Qui-Gon pulled him close again, the baby promptly went to sleep.

“Did he just enter coordinates?” Plo asked.

“To somewhere called Korda Six…?” Qui-Gon confirmed, trying to remember why that name seemed familiar.

“The Force gave the baby your nav coordinates…” Plo trailed off and exchanged a look with Tyvokka. “I guess we’ll meet you at Korda Six! We’re closer!”

“You don’t have to—” But the comm had been cut.

Qui-Gon boosted Ben up on his chest. “Well, that was entirely unexpected. Let’s see what adventure we’re about to have.”

~*~

Qui-Gon dreamed in visions and woke knowing Obi-Wan Kenobi, by any name, would not exist as a Jedi in this timeline. The Force was calling him to a different path.

He sat up on the small cot and found Ben awake, sitting up in his own little bed, sucking on his fist, and staring at Qui-Gon, his little brow furrowed.

Qui-Gon couldn’t help but smile as the expression on the baby’s face reminded him of his thirteen-year-old padawan who desperately wanted to tell his master to do something different but felt he probably couldn’t for some reason or another.

Offering his melancholy up to the Force, Qui-Gon quickly checked the ship’s status, finding they were maybe two hours from their destination, then got the baby changed. “You hungry? You didn’t eat much last night as you seemed quite intent on going back to sleep. I know the Force can sustain us for a time, but I’d prefer that be a habit you not pick up this go around, all right?”

He had a selection of mushy fruits and vegetables as well as some milk in a bottle. He propped Ben up against several pillows and proceeded to feed him. He thought the whole process could have been messy, but Ben was quite obviously hungry and seemed more intent on eating and watching Qui-Gon than playing with his food.

“I finally have a small inkling of what the Force plans, and I’m not sure why I’m surprised.” He put a bite of mashed mixed stone fruit in Ben’s mouth, then gently cupped his cheek. “It’s certainly not what I’d have hoped, little one, but I recognize that’s my own selfishness. I’d wanted to see things made right. There was no telling if I’d be your teacher again, but certainly I could have hoped.”

Ben accepted the next bite of fruit, then crawled forward and pushed at Qui-Gon. “Ma.”

“It’s okay.”

He crawled into Qui-Gon’s lap, trying to find purchase. “Ma ma!”

Qui-Gon cupped the back of his head. “It’s all right, little Ben. I know I’m sad, but it won’t last, I promise. I’m being a wee bit selfish right now, but I’ll have a spot of tea and some meditation and share my burdens with the Force. All will be well.” He tucked Ben into position to give him the portion of milk the temple archives indicated were good for near-humans of his age to supplement meals.

“I can confess that my reason for agreeing to come back was entirely selfish.”

Ben took the bottle easily enough, holding on with one hand, content to watch Qui-Gon, so he continued speaking.

“I should care about the entire galaxy. At an existential level, of course I do, but how do you care for trillions? It’s too big for any mind to wrap itself around, I think. But I can care about you, and Xan, and Feemor. There are friends, Rael, Dooku, Yoda… But you three are precious to me. Ensuring better for you three specifically is perhaps the height of selfishness, but I can do nothing less.”

Ben’s gaze was sharp, eyes already green-grey like a storm.

“I had such hopes, and maybe that’s a terrible destiny to be around someone who is trying to make amends for things that never occurred.” He gave a mirthless laugh. “Our most learned scholars would struggle with how to frame such circumstances, so I’m sure I’ll do no better.” He pushed the little red curls back off Ben’s forehead. His hair had lightened as Ben aged, but the color was charming and dangerous at this age. Green eyes, vivid red hair, Force sensitive. Qui-Gon shook his head. He’d have to be sure whoever his guardian was knew to be wary of slavers.

Finished with the milk, Ben pushed it away and curled his hands in Qui-Gon’s tunic.

Qui-Gon pressed a kiss to Ben’s forehead. “Oh, Ben, I’m so sorry. I’d wished to… Well, it’s of no matter. I’ll remember, and perhaps the price I’ll pay for my hubris in the last life is that the Force will send my children to others.” He felt his eyes fill with tears and tried to blink them away. “Forgive me, my dear, for I cannot right my wrong against you myself. All I can do is trust in the Force the way I often claimed to and the way you usually did.”

He cupped Ben’s cheek, aware how unusual it was to have a babe’s attention so sharply for so long. “But your failing was that you trusted the Force to work through you and you trusted the Force’s will, but you never believed that you, individually, mattered. And that’s likely at least partially to be laid at my feet. But I can say with certainty that you are so precious to the Force, little one. So very, very precious.”

The navcomp pinged, alerting them they’d be dropping out of hyperspace soon.

Qui-Gon adjusted Ben’s position, holding him up in front of him and rubbing their noses together. “Shall we dress properly and prepare to go where the Force wills one more time together?”

Ben grinned and grabbed at Qui-Gon’s beard, making happy little squealing noises before going, “Ma!”

~*~

They dropped into orbit over Korda Six with little fanfare. There was a ping from an orbital relay that the sector was under the protection of the Kordan Defense Forces, but that Korda Six was a more primitive world under the protection of the larger Korda sector, and all excursions to the planet should be arranged through the KDF.

Interesting.

The Force gently urged him to wait, so he settled Ben on his lap, and they watched the planet through the cockpit window. Ben seemed enthralled.

Then his comm chimed with Tyvokka’s signal, so he brought it up on the holo display.

“Jinn!” a happy Wookiee roared in Shyriiwook, with a blooded Mandalorian tucked under each arm, all looking like they’d just started on a round of drinking. “We’re making friends!”

“Are you?” Qui-Gon asked dryly, trying not to laugh.

“I’ll pass you to Plo. We landed right into a great fight. Haven’t had so much fun in ages.”

“They need to let you out of the temple more.”

“Yes!” he roared happily, causing both Mandalorians to wince.

Plo wrestled the comm away and retreated somewhere quieter. “Hello, Qui-Gon.”

“Did I throw you in the thick of it?”

“Not exactly. Just a moment.” He settled at a table. “I’m sitting with Mand’alor Jaster Mereel and their child, Jango Fett. I only have the small comm array, so they can hear everything, but you can only see me. If we need privacy, let me know.”

“I have nothing of a sensitive nature to say. We haven’t been here long, but the Force urged us to wait before landing.”

“The battle just concluded. The KDF had contracted with the True Mandalorian Mercenary Company to find some missing people, who they believed had crashed on Korda Six. The threat was supposed to be minimal due to the technological level of the inhabitants.

“However, the whole situation appears to have been a trap by a fundamentalist sect that wishes to return to the days of the Mandalorian Empire. The trap was, as we’ve been able to deduce, to kill the Mand’alor and remove one faction from contention for leadership of the sector.”

“Death Watch?” Qui-Gon guessed.

As much as it could, Plo’s expression conveyed surprise. “I wasn’t aware you had read those briefs from…intelligence.”

“Well, after the temple was broken into and various artifacts, uh, liberated, I took it upon myself to get familiar with what they were after and why.”

“Yes, well, the Darksaber is back in the hands of the Mand’alor. That was settled just about a minute before your comm pinged that your ship had dropped into orbit. Tyvokka and I arrived maybe two hours ago, just as Tor Vizsla’s troops made themselves known, as well as their intent to kill the Mand’alor. We decided to engage.”

“I still am not sure what brought you here,” a deep voice said from out of view.

“That’s Mand’alor Mereel,” Plo supplied. “As I explained, Mand’alor, someone aboard Master Jinn’s ship was guided to these coordinates. The Force was apparently desirous of saving your life.”

“More than that, I think.” Qui-Gon sighed. “I believe the Force intends for my guest to be Mandalorian.”

“Oh.” Plo rubbed over the length of his respirator several times as if the gesture helped him think. “That’s interesting.”

“I would certainly offer shelter to any of you who wish it, but I think it’s worth cautioning that it would not be easy between a Jedi and a Mandalorian. Today will soften things between my people and yours, but true healing will take time.”

“You have your own Force traditions, correct, Mand’alor?” Qui-Gon asked.

“Yes. In Basic, we would say they walk the path of the stars.”

Qui-Gon blinked. “Skywalkers?”

“It’s not precisely right. That’s more of a slave name variant that was adapted from the name of our people gifted from the Kara, but I don’t think that’s terribly relevant. What is relevant is that you must be a child to start that path.”

“And the Force user who sent us to you is, in fact, a child. I rescued them from a planet where Force-sensitive children are executed.”

Mereel sucked in a sharp breath. “I see. And you’re certain that you’re meant to leave this child with us?”

“He will let us know.”

“How will he do that?”

“I’m not sure. But if you could have anyone willing to adopt meet us when we land, I have a feeling the Force will move when we arrive.”

“This is very peculiar, Buir,” a younger-sounding voice said. Despite being younger, Qui-Gon supposed Fett was still on the cusp of manhood. He hadn’t looked too much into Fett’s past, but he’d guess the feared future bounty hunter responsible for a clone army was somewhere between thirteen and fifteen right now. Another future may have changed.

“I think the Force is sending you a seer, young Mandalorian. There’s an old expression about looking a gift loth wolf in the mouth.”

“That seems dangerous. Why would you do that?”

Qui-Gon chuckled and patted Ben gently on the back, who had dozed off at some point. “We should achieve your coordinates within the half hour. Jinn out.”

~*~

When they were nearing landing, he had a text comm.

Plo: Almost to the last shock trooper, they are willing to adopt. I thought explaining the child would choose his parent through the Force would put them off, but it didn’t. Apparently Force gifts in the very young are regarded as gifts from something called the Kara. I don’t have the cultural reference to understand, but it’s not a bad thing.

Plo: They’ve removed all visible rank insignia, though I had no idea most of what they removed was rank insignia. Even the Mand’alor is removing the visible signs of his office. He’s temporarily entrusting the Darksaber to Tyvokka in case it should call to the child in some way. Yes, someone brought that up. Yes, there was grumbling about it being an unfair advantage. Yes, there was nearly a brawl. Mandalorians are very confusing. Tyvokka may never leave.

QGJ: Fascinating. And I mean that sincerely. They can’t have Tyvokka, however. If I come back and say “it was the will of the Force” over a Council member, I’m never going to be allowed to leave the temple again.

Plo: Maybe we should all stay. I despise temple politics.

Plo: Allow me to rephrase. I really don’t like temple politics.

QGJ: Share your unseemly emotions with the Force, my friend (until then, your secret is safe with me. Also: ditto)

QGJ: Landing in 1 minute.

Ben was trying very hard, and nearly successfully, to climb out of the seat Qui-Gon had strapped him into. He finally managed to escape with a little, “ha!” when the ship touched down in a field dotted with Mandalorian drop ships and a huge campsite.

Qui-Gon scooped him up. “You little escape artist. I always assumed that came on out of necessity later in life, but I guess that you came by it honestly.”

“Ma ma ma!” Ben laughed and patted Qui-Gon’s cheeks.

Qui-Gon pressed a smacking kiss to Ben’s cheek in return. “I want you to know how much I love you. It’s taken me much too long to realize how healthy it is to love unselfishly—especially for a Jedi. It gives us a center that we desperately need. You always loved with your whole being, and I never saw it for what it was.

“The Force tells me that you’re going to find your people in this life, right outside that bay door. But if you don’t, we’ll get back on the ship and keep going, okay? But wherever you go, whatever you do, you will always be loved, Ben. Even if I never see you again after your new parent walks away with you, you were always the best of me.”

He lightly squeezed Ben’s little chin between thumb and forefinger, rubbing his thumb over the soft skin, not looking away from the wide, stormy gaze. “Listen to the Force, little one, but remember that the Force loves you, and I love you. It’s okay to be loved. It’s okay to accept care. You don’t have to sacrifice everything of yourself to walk the Force’s path.” He pressed a lingering kiss to Ben’s forehead. “I’ll miss you.”

“Ma.”

“Be happy this time, okay?”

Ben pressed a sloppy kiss to Qui-Gon’s cheek.

“Thank you, Ben.” He pressed the button to open the ramp that would allow them to leave the ship.

He let his head rest against Ben’s, sharing his loss and sadness with the Force as he prepared to take Ben into his new life.

The End