Chapter Text
Obi-Wan could do no more than watch the man he had been so certain was to be his Master board his ship, dooming Obi-Wan to the harsh dry earth of Bandomeer.
Obi-Wan had been so certain that after all they had faced together, how well they had fought side by side, how perfectly they had seemed to fit together within the Force, that Qui-Gon would accept Obi-Wan as his Padawan. He had been absolutely sure that they were destined to be partners and that the Force wanted him to become a Jedi. A proper Jedi.
But, not for the first time in his life, Obi-Wan had been wrong. Qui-Gon had rejected him once again and was determined to track Xanatos alone. To be alone.
Before the boarding ramp had closed, Obi-Wan turned his back on the departing ship to make his way back to the Bandomeer AgriCorps’ camp, his training saber still swinging at his hip. He placed his hand on its pommel, steading it as the small, weak piece of kyber within hummed in with the Force, warm and bright and steady. As he walked, Obi-Wan’s own connection to the Force grew, letting peace and resolution settle deep within Obi-Wan’s heart.
All was as the Force wills, and Obi-Wan was but clay in its hands.
Twelve Years Later
“Obi-Wan, where would you like this shipment?”
“Which one is it? The Agamarian soybeans or that new wheat strain from Lothal?” Obi-Wan asked, not bothering to look up from his microscope.
He had been on Tatooine for almost six months, leading an AgriCorps team to hopefully breathe new life into the dry earth and give the people a chance to thrive. But the planet seemed bound and determined to resist growing even the hardiest crops, including the ones Obi-Wan had personally genetically designed for desert climates. They had even gone so far as to bring in new moisture harvesters to encourage the seedlings to grow, protected in large greenhouses that stretched for miles in the sand.
The ongoing skirmishes with the Hutt clan weren’t helping anything either. There was only so much Obi-Wan could do to convince plants to grow, even with the Force, and even modified crops weren’t resistant to deliberate sabotage.
What Obi-Wan was really hoping would make a difference was the new breed of Agamarian soybeans he had cultivated and sent to Coruscant for analysis and second opinions. The soybeans were unique, actually giving nutrients to the earth, turning useless sand into rich soil that could be cultivated and used for decades to come.
“Ermmm…” The young Twi’lek girl, Gida, hummed uncertainty, rotating the box in her hands. “Neither?”
“Do you recognize any of the letters on the label? Like the ones teacher Aiva taught last week?” Obi-Wan looked up to see her blush and shake her head no. Many of the newly freed slaves helping with the planting were lacking even basic education and, while Obi-Wan and the rest of the AgriCorps had done much to bring a education system to Tatooine, the years under the Hutts had done their damage.
“Nooooo?” She said, still frowning at it.
Obi-Wan sighed and held out his hand for the package. It was far heavier than he imagined for its size and had none of the life his packages normally shimmered with in the Force.
“Well now, this does seem to be a problem.” He said, examining the label. “It looks like the delivery person made a mistake. Again. Do you see this here?” Obi-Wan pointed to a string of letters on the packing label. Gida nodded. “This says this should have been delivered to Akim’s in Mos Espa. How it made its way all the way out here will be one of the Galaxy’s great mysteries, hum?”
Gida wrinkled her nose at the mention of Akim’s, well known for its nasty food and even nastier clientele. She reached out to take the box, no doubt planning on taking it to its proper owner herself.
Obi-Wan waved her away. “That's quite alright, little one. I will take it to our friend Akim. They probably have my seedlings.” The who knows what they will ask for in return went unsaid.
“Thanks Obi-Wan!” Gida’s shoulders relaxed with relief.
“Thank you for bringing it to me, especially when it weighs almost as much as a bantha!” That thought made Obi-Wan pause, and he looked to her delivery cart. “Where is Colo? Doesn’t he normally help you with your deliveries?”
She shrugged. “A few kids didn’t show up for their shifts today.”
Obi-Wan paused. Something felt wrong, twisting in the Force at her words.
“Why don’t you finish the rest of your deliveries. I am sure Aiva is anxious for you to get back to your studies.” Obi-Wan
Gida waved goodbye, and Obi-Wan turned back to his work. The box could wait until he had finished his current train of thought, even if he was anxious to get his new seedlings from the labs at the Temple.
Except that less than an hour later, something about the box started nagging at Obi-Wan, wanting his full attention. He tried to ignore the itching feeling and bury himself deeper in the wheat grains he was currently trying to encourage to grow, but the Sith damned thing was insistent.
Obi-Wan shook his head and looked at the box and then back to his desk. The chrono showed just past midday, meaning that the cantina would be full, and Sebulba and his cronies a drink or five into their daily afternoon plans. Not the most ideal time to make the journey.
With a groan Obi-Wan picked up the package and donned his cloak and settled his saber on his belt. The twisting feeling quickly turned to peace as he made his way to the bantha pens, a sure sign that the Force was the cause. Obi-Wan could only hope that whatever this was wouldn’t pull him away for too long, they still needed to start getting this new batch of corn in the ground that afternoon.
“Hello there, old girl.” Obi-Wan greeted Nara, a gentle, albeit stubborn, bantha that he had grown quite fond of during his time on the desert planet. He scratched her forehead and secured her saddle, making sure there was enough water to get them both to the city.
They passed newly planted fields and glowing shield generators. Obi-Wan couldn’t help the small smile that crept across his face. He was proud of his work, of how much he and his crewmates had been able to accomplish, even with the setbacks and hurdles.
After Bandomeer, it had become obvious to Obi-Wan that much of the galaxy was in need, that many lived without food, without shelter, without freedom. In the AgriCorps, Obi-Wan had been given an opportunity by the Force to change that, at least in part. The small shoots of green were evidence that he had served the Force, and the galaxy’s people, despite his shortcomings that had led to his reassignment.
The ride to Mos Espa wasn’t long, but the sun was harsh and even a seasoned and sturdy bantha such as Nara needed to conserve energy this time of day. It was well into the afternoon when the city seemed to suddenly appear from the dunes.
Leaving Nara at the local stable, Obi-Wan made his way through the busy streets, fading into the sounds and smells of the dust covered city.
Obi-Wan made his way up to the open air bar, finding Akim behind the counter. He held up the box, and from the look on Akim’s face it was just as illegal as Obi-Wan suspected. Akim held out his hands to try and take it, but Obi-Wan was faster, tucking it away in his cloak.
“I suspect that you were accidentally given mine as well? Why don’t you grab it and I will hold onto this for you.” Obi-Wan smiled.
“There is nothing for you here, Kenobi. Give me my package and go back to your piles of dirt.” Akim sneered.
Obi-Wan smiled wider, raising an eyebrow in mock surprise. “Is that so? Hum, I wonder where my package of seedlings went then. Why don’t we just go ahead and open this up then, just in case they mixed up our labels and this really is mine. I am sure whatever is inside is valuable enough to cover the cost of my missing plants.” Obi-Wan poured what Force suggestion he could into the statement, letting concern and fear bleed into the words.
“Seedlings you say?” Akim asked, rubbing his jaw, eyes wide with nerves. Obi-Wan smiled, he had been right about just how legal the package contents were. “You know there might have been a box left outback earlier that would be about that size.”
“Why don’t you go check and I’ll hold onto this one for you.”
“Oh, yes, of course.” Akim fled to his back room and Obi-Wan turned to survey the patio.
Akim’s was over crowded, as Obi-Wan expected. He drew his hood tighter, hoping to avoid some of the more unsavory usuals, those who had been hurt by the closing of Tatooine’s save trade and sought to take out their anger on anyone they thought could be responsible for their loss.
They didn’t need to know that, in Obi-Wan’s case, their assumption of his part in the Hutts’ recent business failures and misfortunes would be correct. They also didn’t need to know he was planning on finishing what he had started and finally put a stop to the Hutts for good.
Obi-Wan closed his eyes against suns, thinking about the younglings that hadn’t come for their shifts. It was possible they had missed the shuttles out to the AgriCorps base, or even that they had decided to simply just not come to work for the day. But something about it rang wrong in the Force, like he was missing something .
Shouting erupted across the patio, and chairs scraped across the duracrete. Obi-Wan turned his back to the confrontation, hoping that it wouldn’t be necessary for him to get involved.
“Our apologies, sir. We will just be on our way.” A rumbling voice broke through the confusion, deep and powerful in the Force. One that Obi-Wan would recognize until his dying day.
Obi-Wan’s head shot up, sure that he couldn’t possibly be correct.
Sulbulba began to respond, obviously furious about his afternoon being interrupted, and the crowd shifted back out of his way.
Qui-Gon Jinn stood tall and proud, his hands tucked into his robes as he listened to Sulbulba’s complaints. Even twelve years later, his presence both in and out of the Force still took Obi-Wan’s breath away.
Behind him stood a Gungan, holding what looked to be some kind of meat animal and a young woman whose noble bearing far exceeded her coarse spun clothes. Some kind of undercover dignitary then, Obi-Wan thought. Which meant that he could sneak away unnoticed and leave Master Jinn to his own mission and arguments.
A heavy thud behind him drew Obi-Wan’s attention away. Akim cleared his throat, hand out for his own box.
“Thank you, good sir.” Obi-Wan slid the package over while lifting his own by the shoulder strap, creeping around the crowd to make his way back to the stable.
Arguing and anger erupted once again, Sulbulba and his friends furious as they moved toward the Jedi and his companions.
Before Obi-Wan could think, he was standing between Qui-Gon and Sulbulba’s men, hand raised in defense. Jinn raised an eyebrow and his companions stepped back.
“Get out of the way, you moof-milker! This has nothing to do with you.” Sulbulba growled.
“Now, Sulbulba, there’s no need to draw attention to ourselves is there? It sounds like everything was a simple accident, no harm no foul. We will just be on our way and you can go back to your drinks and quiet afternoon.” Obi-Wan said, hoping that the mod would find the lure of drinks more inviting then the fight.
“You off-worlders are all the same! You come here, ruining hard working people’s lives and getting involved in their business.” Another man, who Obi-Wan recognized as yet another former slaver, moved forward, a hand on his blaster.
So much for not creating a scene, Obi-Wan thought as he sighed and shifted his pack to place a hand on his saber.
“Look, we don’t want any trouble. None of us want to get the marshal and his goons involved in such a trivial matter.” Obi-Wan waved towards where two deputies had stopped to keep an eye on the unfolding events. He himself would rather avoid the newly instated legal system that the locals had put into place when the slaves rebelled, and the attention it would bring with it. The marshal and his deputies were good people but had enough difficulty bringing even a bit of order to the lawless planet, they didn’t need Jedi business complicating matters.
There was more murmuring from the crowd and a few moved forward as if ready to attack but Sulbulba waved them back before lurching toward Qui-Gon himself.
“You are lucky this time, off-world scum. Next time, you might not be so fortunate, hum?”
Obi-Wan didn’t waste time making sure the mob moved away or Sulbulba was actually done with his threats, instead herding the Jedi and his friends down a side street. Once he deemed them a safe enough distance away from both the deputies and Akim’s, he stopped and pulled back his hood to take a good look at Jinn and his companions.
“Now, may I ask where you were headed so I can point you in the right direction.” Obi-Wan asked, caught between hoping Jinn recognized him, at least through the Force and hoping the years were enough to leave him a distant memory. Both paths left his heart aching.
The young woman spoke first, a bit huffily. “We are looking for a starship parts dealer.”
Obi-Wan rubbed his chin. “I can recommend a few, but it depends on the ship and the part.”
Jinn sighed, obviously reluctant to give up more information than necessary. “We are looking for a hyperdrive for a Nabooian Royal Starship.”
Obi-Wan winced, looking at the young woman once more. Nabooian royalty made sense with her proud stance and pinched glare.
“For that, I would recommend Watto’s. He’s a bit of a swindler, but he should have what you need.” Obi-Wan pointed them down the road, giving them directions to Watto’s junkyard and what areas of the city to avoid.
Directions given, Obi-Wan reached for his pack, anxious to get back to his crops, to once again walk away from Qui-Gon Jinn. Being so close to the man that had altered his life so drastically, that had molded him into the person he was without even knowing, without ever being recognized, made Obi-Wan feel like a twelve year old reject all over again.
“Wait.” Qui-Gon stopped Obi-Wan with a gentle hand on his arm. “Have we met before? You seem familiar.” Qui-Gon asked, examining Obi-Wan’s face now that they were closer.
Obi-Wan internally sagged further, trying to not let his disappointment show. The part of him that had held onto hope that he had made at least a bit of an impression on Qui-Gon during their time on Bandomeer, that maybe Qui-Gon would recognize him in some way, was heartbroken. They had been so in sync within the Force, fighting side by side so instinctive that it seemed impossible that Qui-Gon wouldn’t remember him. How foolish he had been at twelve, thinking that he had been destined to be Jinn’s Padawan, instead of simply a pawn for the Force to mold and shape.
“If we have, it must not have been a particularly significant meeting.” Obi-Wan smiled.
Qui-Gon smiled in return. “I must be mistaken then. You would not be so easily forgotten.”
“You may be surprised, Master. Now, if you’ll excuse me I need to make it back to my crops before it gets dark.”
Qui-Gon’s hold tightened before releasing Obi-Wan’s arm. “At least tell me your name. So I can thank you properly.”
Obi-Wan sighed, knowing a true lie would be easily recognized in the Force. So he went with the next best thing.
“My name is Ben.” Obi-Wan had been difficult for many of the younglings he had met in his travels, and the nickname had stuck after his two cycles on Jakku. It had first been given to him by a child with a lopsided grin, with sad eyes and a heavy lisp given to her by her so-called father. From what he had heard, she was doing well in her studies and was growing into a feisty young lady, ready to take on a galaxy.
“Thank you, Ben.” Qui-Gon reached out a hand, and Obi-Wan allowed his own to be taken. Qui-Gon’s skin was rough, scared by countless battles. Obi-Wan wondered what his own sun and desert dried palms felt like to the Master.
“May the Force be with you, Master Jinn.” Obi-Wan withdrew his hand and made his way down the street.