Jaster did not rise to his position through force alone.
There was some force involved, of course.
As much as he wishes it was not so, he will not deny it.
The point is Jaster did not ascend based entirely on the weight of his punches and the accuracy of his blaster.
He is observant and does his best to maintain a keen mind.
He is not oblivious.
So, when his new grandchild fidgets with nerves and stubbornly insists on talking to Jaster alone despite Jango’s best attempts at awkward support. Jaster’s mind turns to everything he knows about Obi-Wan Kenobi.
His grandchild is a strange one. He does not mean this as an insult, it is a wonderful thing and it is true.
He has known they’ve been hiding something for quite some time.
He is not oblivious to the ways they will sometimes catch on a word and go silent, unable or unwilling to go on. He does not miss the longing in their eyes when they do.
He is not unaware of Obi-Wan’s quiet sighs around the gardens, the tension that bleeds from their shoulders around the rocks and plants. He has not failed to notice the calm of their expression when he catches them sitting in one of the isolated corners.
He is not unfamiliar with their piercing gaze. The one that seems to judge and mourn in a moment. The one that sees through him and reveals all his deepest secrets. The gaze of a traumatized child who forgets, sometimes, that they are safe and warm.
It breaks his heart.
They deserve so much more than his useless pity.
So, he watches.
He is careful of the smallest of flinches and resolves to remember their causes so as to never trigger the same reaction again.
He shows them the library and answers every question they pose as thoroughly as he knows how.
It is no burden, it is a gift.
Obi-Wan is a gift.
He will never allow them to feel any different.
He turns his attention back to the moment at hand.
They are nervous, he can see it.
He wonders if they regret sending Jango away for this conversation.
It matters not, he resolves that he won’t do anything to make them regret their courage.
He gestures for them to sit across him and does not miss the shoulders relaxing slightly at the perceived barrier of the table between them.
“I think…” He must be careful. “I believe this is a conversation for shig.”
They nod, visibly relieved and Jaster darts them a kind smile.
The silence as he prepares the drinks is comfortable, for the most part. Obi-Wan takes deep, grounding breaths.
Jaster wonders, not for the first time, who taught them how to calm themself like that.
He slides a mug across the table, maintaining distance. Something in Obi-Wan’s expression tells him they know exactly what he’s doing but they say nothing.
He waits for them to take the first sip and they wait for him to try his shig in turn.
“Now, my precious bu’ad. What would you like to talk about?” He puts as much affection into the title as he dares, he must remember they are still a teenager and teenagers sometimes fickle creatures when it comes to such obvious displays.
They take a deep breath and look up at him with eyes that see far too much.
“I was born on Stewjon.”
Jaster nods.
This is only the beginning, he knows.
“When I was three, for reasons their own, my parents brought me to Coruscant. They gave me up.” There is something fierce in their eyes.
This is something that means everything.
They take another sip and their gaze does not falter.
“They gave me to the Jedi.”
Jaster does not react, not externally, he cannot.
Not with grief or anger or even relief.
It is no wonder they seem to look into his soul.
“I have been a Jedi for most of my life. They are my family.” They pause, grief flickering across their expression for a single moment before it’s covered with determination. “I accepted Jango’s adoption, that does not overwrite my second family.”
“I understand.” Jaster nods and hopes that whatever they see in his expression is enough.
It must be, they slump slightly in their chair and sigh.
“I am not-, we are-, it is not good for me to hide myself away.” They pause to take a sip and gather their thoughts. “They made me who I am and I am not ashamed of that, even, even if they aren’t my future anymore.” The last bit comes out wistful, a little sad and their eyes remain distant for a moment.
“Thank you for telling me, Ob’ika.” Jaster does not smile, not for the child still mourning their home.
He allows the moment to hang between them before picking his shig up once more.
“Is there some way I could help?” They may have told him for their newly adopted relationship, for his power, for their steadily growing bond created over library visits and historical discussions. He isn't quite sure what prompted this conversation.
“Jango doesn’t know what he’s doing.”
Jaster has to stifle a smile at that blunt statement.
“I don’t really know what I’m doing either.” They admit. “I don’t know if there’s a way you could help, just, maybe, I’d like to talk about them, sometimes. With someone who isn't Jango.” They blow out a long breath. “I want to be myself.”
Jaster can do that.
He can do that and more.
He wonders if there are any Mandalorian records about the Jedi and Force Sensitivity that don’t include tips on how to murder them, actually he can probably find something useful even if the conclusion is murder.
Chassa might know, better yet, she might actually have some kind of idea of how to help them heal. He can’t imagine the Force makes healing any less complicated.
Obi-Wan must know quite a bit too, maybe not the complex theory but the basics, the foundations. Jaster would take the foundations over the no doubt fascinating advanced concepts any day.
He may be able to bagger the Jedi into assisting as well, it’s possible. He doesn’t know how Obi-Wan came to be lost. He gives no thought to the idea they were anything but lost. Stars, he hopes they at least know their child is safe now. Jango isn’t always the best at thinking of these things.
He’s startled out of his thoughts by a soft snort.
Obi-Wan hides a smile behind his shig, amusement dancing in their eyes.
“I take it you have questions?” They ask and he doesn’t miss the longing there.
“I may have to make more shig.” He warns lightly.
They glance down at their own half-empty cup and smile.
“I wouldn’t mind another cup.”
“Excellent.”