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Cal meets Obi-Wan Kenobi for the first time when he's ten years old.
"We have the same hair." Is all he can think to say.
The Knight breaks into a beaming smile. "Why, so we do."
"Master Kenobi has come to observe your training." Master Windu tells him. "He'd like to get to know you."
He looks to Master Kenobi, who's face is warm and pleasant, kindly and sincere. His smile makes his cheeks dimple too, even under the beard.
"Okay." He tells Master Windu. "What do I show him?"
"How about you show me your room?" Master Kenobi says, placid and gentle. "I'd like to know what you're interested in."
He nods, resolute. "Okay. Follow me, then."
| | |
Cal finds that Obi-Wan's around a lot lately, and the Knight takes a lot of time to talk to him, understand him and watch him.
"They only do that when they're thinking about getting a Padawan." One of the other younglings whispers to him as they watch Knight Kenobi observe the class.
"Why would he want me?" He asks back, genuinely confused.
"He's not here for you - I'm going to be a Padawan!" One of the older children, an ambitious bully named Raiza, boasts. "Besides, you're too young to be a Padawan!"
He looks down at his hands, small and freckled, and thinks about the issues he still had controlling his psychometry. Master Yoda says its a gift, but it doesn't feel like one - pain is always the thing that lingers the most in objects and echoes, not the happiness. He's not strong enough to be a Padawan, and maybe he never will be.
"Shame on you, Raiza." All three younglings snap their attention up to Knight Kenobi, who they'd not heard or seen approach. The copper Jedi is wearing a stern and disappointed expression. "It's the job of a Jedi to uplift those who struggle and defend those who can't defend themselves. We're peacekeepers, not bullies. Shame on you."
Raiza's green skin flushes darker and he lowers his head, thoroughly chastised.
"Cal, come with me for a moment, will you?"
Cal gets up from where he was seated on the edge of the class, watching the duel training. He follows the Knight out of the room, sees Master Mundi give a minute nod to Knight Kenobi, and then sits next to him when they arrive at the Hall of Fountains.
Obi-Wan's hair has grown out since he was a Padawan, resting in gentle waves on his shoulders, blazing like fire in the sunlight pouring in through the skylights. Even his plain brown cloak and beige robes do little to distract from the massive glittering wingspan at lingers behind him, just as bright and fiery as his hair. The Knight's eyes are a dazzling mix of blue and green, light and shimmering like a kyber crystal.
"Cal, do you know why I've come around more?"
He shakes his head. "Not really. The others say you're probably looking for a Padawan."
"I am." Obi-Wan agrees. "But not just any Padawan. You'll find when you're a Knight or a Master yourself, that when you go to seek out a Padawan, you'll speak to the teachers first, see if they have any recommendations for students who would be compatible with you - who you could help nurture and understand themselves. So, when I felt comfortable, that's what I did. I'm pretty young myself to be looking for a Padawan - I've not been a Knight for very long - but I felt it was the right time."
"And what did the teachers say?"
"A good friend of mine, Jaro Tapal, has also been looking for a Padawan. He overheard that I was looking, and approached me to tell me about a very special youngling that I should consider."
He still didn't get it. "Who?"
Obi-Wan's smile was bright and beautiful. "You, dear boy."
He didn't know what to think, and he was pretty sure his mouth was hanging open. Obi-Wan patiently waited for him to get his wits together, but all that came out of his mouth was "Why me?"
Obi-Wan cocked his head, then ran his hand through Cal's hair. "You're a psychometric, which means you require some extra care and training. You need someone to be gentle but firm in your training, who can empathize with all the pain you'll feel and help teach you to still see the light. I believe you already have that strength inside you - that dogged persistence that you'll need to cope with your gift. But I, too, need someone who will be gentle with me."
He turned to face the Knight more fully. "What do you mean?"
Obi-Wan also twisted, taking Cal's little hands in his large, callused ones. "As a Padawan, I wanted to help a resistance faction on a planet in the Outer Rim defeat their terrible government, but the Council and Qui-Gon forbade me. In retaliation, I quit the Order and left anyway, to do what I felt was right."
"Did you win?"
Obi-Wan looked down at their hands. "No. The resistance, even with my help, was demoralized and crushed. The government sold all the fighters it didn't kill into slavery, including me. We were sent to a mining operation run by smugglers, who would use slaves on asteroids to mine as much as they could before they died. I spent two years on one of these asteroids, and I attempted to escape many times."
He swallowed thickly. The echoes of the pain in the Force were growing. "What happened to you?"
Obi-Wan pulled back, reaching up to roll up the sleeves of his robes to reveal a mismatch of thatched black scarring, raised and ugly and brittle. He also reached up to pull down the neck of his robes, revealing a lattice-pattern in the shame of a collar wrapped around his throat. "They tortured me and bound me, lashing me for every little misstep. Eventually they collared me, an electroshock collar that would work all across the asteroid until I broke atmosphere. Well, one attempt they couldn't find me, and they activated the collar. I spent hours in searing agony before I passed out, and I don't remember them finding me. The collar had melted the skin of my throat and fused to it. I nearly died, and they weren't able to collar me again.
"Not long after, one of the slaves caught wind that the asteroid was nearly depleted, and that the smugglers planned on blowing the asteroid up. I took my final chance and escaped again, coming across a hostage by the name of Satine Kryze. With her help, we killed off the smugglers and left. I lived with her on Mandalore for six months before she caught sight of what they'd done to me. She called the Temple and organized for them to come get me."
Cal can feel the tears sliding down his cheeks. "Oh, Master . . ."
Obi-Wan's smile is wane, but genuine. "So, you see, I will also need someone who can understand me. I think that we will work very well together as Master and Padawan, Cal Kestis, and I am eager to do so."
He wipes his eyes. "So, what happens now?"
"Do you want to be my Padawan?"
"Yes."
Obi-Wan covers up the scars once more, looking for all the world as though he's never known pain. "We must inform the Council, then, my young Padawan, and I will teach you how to braid."
| | |
He moves rooms the same day they declare their new partnership into Obi-Wan's chambers. There's two bedrooms, the bigger of the two belonging to his new Master. He doesn't have a lot to move in, but Obi-Wan helps him anyway. His Master shows him around the small apartment, with a modest refresher and a small, efficient kitchen.
"Will I still be able to hang out with my friends?" He asks his Master.
"Oh yes." Obi-Wan agrees readily. "You are still very young, and I wanted at least one more year mostly in the Temple for you. I will begin the more advanced training, however. Mobility, more advanced katas, multiple 'sabers, regenerative meditation and aura expansion."
"Okay." He says, even though he doesn't know what most of that is.
Obi-Wan smiles at him, and he knows he'll be safe in the hands of his Master.
| | |
His first year as a Padawan isn't all that much different than his last year as a youngling, except that Master Kenobi is solely focused on him. It's kind of nice to have a master - Obi-Wan is there just for him, no matter the time of day, no matter what problem he has, no matter what he needs. He's always had teachers, yes, but there's something special about knowing you have one person who's sole concern is your wellbeing, and that's how Cal feels when he's with Obi-Wan.
It's some months into his training when Obi-Wan reveals the true extent of his scars.
It's the middle of the night and Cal's just woken up from the worst nightmare he's ever had. Distant screams, burning bodies, dead ones all around and the smoke is choking, I can't find my mother-
He's staring at the wall, still trying to process exactly what he's seen, so beyond himself that he can't hear himself screaming the name of a woman he's never met, cheeks soaking in tears. He only comes back to himself, properly, when he feels the press of mismatched skin to his wet cheeks, calluses scraping his scalp, the soft vibration of song reaching his ears blocking out all the noise-
"Come back to me, Cal." Obi-Wan breathes, the growing beard tickling his forehead. "You're safe here, in my arms."
He starts to feel his body again and he throws his arms around Obi-Wan's waist, crying for himself now instead of for the boy whose memory invaded his mind. Both of his master's arms come around his shoulders, the older man laying his head down atop his own as his wings wrapped them up in a comforting shield of darkness. Obi-Wan doesn't stop stroking through his hair, singing low and soothing - it sounds like an old Twi'lek lullaby, one he used to hear one of the older Padawan girls (Aayla, maybe?) sing to herself in the evening. She's probably a Knight now, or close to it, because she's been gone for a while, and he was still very little when he used to hear her. Obi-Wan's version is deeper, a lot more rumbling in his chest than her more throaty notes, but he supposes that it's just how Obi-Wan is.
It takes almost an hour for him to calm down enough to meet his master's eyes, but Obi-Wan doesn't move, just holds him tightly. Even his wings don't flex or twitch restlessly.
"I'm sorry, Master." He says when he's got control over his voice again, wincing as it scrapes and cracks.
"Never apologize, dear one." Obi-Wan replies softly. Instead of letting him go, his master picks him up, carrying him cuddled against his side, one wing still pressing him tightly to his master's torso. Obi-Wan takes them into the kitchen, the lights dim and soft, where he's placed on the counter so Obi-Wan can get him a glass of cold water. He drinks without complaint, also accepting the glass back when it's refilled.
In the low light, he can see the trenches the electrowhips and plasma lashes left across Obi-Wan's pale skin. His master is only wearing a pair of thin, off-white sleep leggings, and even through the soft fabric, he can see the valleys and ridges left behind where skin and muscle were melted and fused. Starkest among them all is the collar mark around his neck, with it's sharp, raised edges and space-black linings. Most of the really deep scars on Obi-Wan have little bits of pink and cream at the bottom, places where the damage was able to heal. Not around his throat, no - the whole thing almost looks like a tattoo, but for the raised edges and visible displacement. Oddly, or perhaps not so much, Obi-Wan's back is the only place that is mostly intact (aside from his face) with that skin only bearing the fading white lines of little mistakes. Obi-Wan's wings bear no marks whatsoever, but he knows that as a Stewjoni raptor, Obi-Wan's feathers are resistant even to blaster fire - light like flimsi, but hard like durasteel.
Obi-Wan watches him drink, and when he's done with the second glass, the Knight takes it over to the sink and washes it, putting it aside. It's so characteristically domestic that it puts Cal at ease, despite the fact the clocks say it's somewhere around four in the morning.
"I saw a boy, running through his village." He swallows, trying to remember details without actually remembering. "It was on fire, and he was looking for his mother."
Obi-Wan turns to him, expression open and encouraging. He doesn't speak, isn't going to break the silence - if Cal wants to talk, he knows he has to be the one to speak.
"There were just so many bodies, all mangled or burning-" He takes another shaky breath. "The smoke made it so hard to breathe. It was like the world was ending, and it was going to take him with it."
"All Jedi are empathic by nature." Obi-Wan says softly as he approaches, brushing stray hair from Cal's eyes as they face each other. "The Force allows us to tune into the emotions and experiences of those around us in a very intimate way, and sometimes it can be hard to cope with. As a psychometric, I can only imagine how much more that is. It's likely what you experienced was an echo - the remnants of very strong feelings left behind. I was under the impression that you had to be in the location the echo originated from, but I suppose when you're asleep or meditating, you're much more vulnerable to it."
"I don't even know where it was, if that place even still exists." He presses into the hand cupping his face. "It was just so much at once- Until I woke up, I didn't even know I wasn't him."
Obi-Wan frowns, concerned and sympathetic. "We'll have to set up meditation and Force control before physical prowess, I think."
"What is that going to do?"
"Teach you to be in control of your mind, even when you otherwise would not be. It will help you sense the echoes before you come upon them, to temper what you experience. It may even reveal some abilities you don't know you have."
He nods. "I would like that."
"Do you have these nightmares often?"
"Not usually. I don't have dreams that often at all. I guess this one was just really strong."
"Would you prefer to sleep with me?"
"For tonight?"
"Yes, and going forward, if you so choose."
"Yes please, Master."
"Of course, Padawan." Obi-Wan picks him up again, pressing his head into his shoulder. He walks them back to Obi-Wan's room, where the bed is a lot larger. It's probably for his wings, but it doesn't feel too open - just comfortable, and it feels a lot like Obi-Wan here.
"Master?"
"Yes?"
"How did you come to terms with all this?"
"All of what, dear one?"
"The scarring."
Obi-Wan sits down on the edge of the bed and plants him on his thighs so they're eye to eye. "For a long time, I didn't. I could only look at them, breaking open with every move I made and weeping blood and oil, with self-hatred and resentment. I hated myself for my weakness - I couldn't have the resistance fighters, neither on their planet nor on the asteroid. Even when I went to Mandalore and was with Satine, someone I love and whom I thought loved me in return, I was turned away and scorned."
"Why did she do that?"
"I think, now, that she thought she was doing right by me. I think she thought that sending me back to the Order was the only way I would heal, would become one again." Obi-Wan sighs. "I don't know if she was right. Maybe she was. But at the time, it felt like getting cast out all over again. I wasn't strong enough to heal faster, to cover up the trauma and the pain of the last three years. When she ordered me back to the Jedi, she took the very wind from my wings and scattered my pieces on the floor. She defeated me, more so than the government or the smugglers had ever done."
"And the resentment?"
Obi-Wan hesitated. "I felt that for Master Jinn."
That's news to him. "Why?"
"Our relationship, in the beginning, was tenuous at best." Obi-Wan played with his Padawan braid, little as it was. "He never wanted a Padawan, and I was the Padawan nobody wanted. The Council forced us together, and for the formative years of our partnership, he treated me with great disdain. When Master Jinn's closest friend, Tahl, died, he took his despair out on me. Looking back, I know now that's part of the reason I didn't listen when he warned me that getting involved in the rebellion was a bad idea. Up until the time I left the Order, I was the subject of his ire for her death."
"I can see why you didn't like him."
"That wasn't why."
Cal frowned. "Then what was?"
"He was the one to collect me after Satine contacted the Council, and I left Mandalore without a word to either of them. His entire attitude was different. Suddenly, I was fragile like glass and he wanted to protect me, to know my mind and understand me. For nearly a decade before that, it felt like I didn't matter to him, that I was merely baggage that the Council had saddled him with, and he wasn't afraid to let me know that. And then, just because I returned, wounded in both mind and body, I was the son he didn't have. I couldn't take it - I was suspicious and distant, unwilling to attempt to give trust and affection to a man who had so easily thrown it away."
"You seem so close. I guess that's not true."
"As my years with him continued, I saw that his concern for me was genuine, and I did open up to him a bit. I let him help with re-opened wounds and preen my wings, but I've never managed to let him into my heart again like I had when I was newly his, no. But then he nearly died fighting Darth Maul, and I had a revelation too. We had both seen each other nearly dead and been unable to do anything about it except sit beside them and hope. I understood him more, and though I couldn't muster the trust, I did have forgiveness to offer, and acceptance.
"Do you blame him, for the scars?"
"No, these were all the results of my decisions." He shakes his head. "I find no shame with them now. I cover them because they make others feel badly, to want to pity me, and I don't want that for them. I survived where many others did not, and I see these scars as a reminder of exactly that."
"Will you and I have a relationship like you and Master Jinn?'
"Not at all." Obi-Wan presses their heads together. "Like I told you when I asked you to be my Padawan, we both need people to be gentle and kind to us. I do not walk the same path as my former Master regardless, since I have chosen my Padawan and my Padawan has chosen me." Obi-Wan pauses, then continues in a smaller voice. "Tell me, with all honesty, one thing."
"What, Master?"
"Do you regret your choice?"
"To have you as my Master?"
"Yes."
"No." The word slides off his tongue easily. He means it, too, and he lets the sentiment out into the Force. Obi-Wan doesn't outwardly show he feels it, but his wings shiver. "I really like you. I'm just sorry you hurt so much."
"I like you too." It's so nice to see Obi-Wan smile. He's so handsome, despite or perhaps because of the scars. "I'm glad you're my Padawan too."
It's not long after that night when he runs into Raiza again, on his way back from delivering a message from Obi-Wan to Master Windu.
"Where've you been?" Raiza demands, a couple of other mean younglings standing around with him. "Too scared to show up to classes anymore?"
"No?" He frowns at them and cocks his head. "I'm with Master Kenobi now."
Raiza barks a bitter laugh. "Don't pretend! He wouldn't want a weakling like you! He's the Sith-Killer, not some pansy who can't touch someone else's lightsaber without passing out!"
"He must see something in me that you don't. He's the Master, not you."
That just makes Raiza furious. He can feel it in the Force, rippling out of the older boy dangerously.
"Maybe you should talk to Master Yoda about those feelings." He points out. "They can't be good for connecting to the Light Side."
Raiza snarls at him and the other younglings gather around him, ready to pounce, but Cal doesn't really think about what he does next. He just raises his hand and the four of them freeze in place. He leaves them there and continues on his way back to his shared apartment with Obi-Wan. He almost bumps into a massive Lasat, who had been standing nearby. The towering man observes him keenly, then nods in approval.
"I am very glad Obi-Wan sought you out. You will be a fine fit."
He searches through his memory, because this man feels like he should be familiar. "Master Tapal?"
Master Tapal inclines his head. "Pleasure to meet you, Padawan Kestis."
He kind of wants to hug the man, but he has a feeling that the Lasat wouldn't be as receptive to it as Obi-Wan always is. He decides to bow, instead, beaming up at the man. "Thank you for recommending me, Master."
"Of course, Padawan. Now, unfreeze them for me. I have a lesson they failed to learn to teach them."
"Okay." He undoes the freeze, and the younglings are surprised to find Master Tapal where he had been, and considerably less keen to attack.
"I see your instructors failed to instill a sense of humility into you." Tapal says, voice thundering. The boys shrink back from the reprimand. "I will fill this gap in your education."
He shakes his head, suppressing a smile as he turns away and continues on to his apartments. Master Tapal has a reputation for being a hardass, and it's unlikely those boys will be able to feel their legs once Tapal is done with them.
When he arrives back at the apartments, he spots Obi-Wan on the couch, scrolling through a treaty he's helping the Nabanese Senator finish up for her planet. He's been working on it with her for the better part of the month, and he knows his master is eager to be done with it. He snuggles up to his master on the couch, laying his head down in the man's lap and closing his eyes when fingers automatically card through his hair.
Yes, he's grateful to Master Tapal. In more ways than one.