Chapter Text
“I don’t know who would ever want you.”
The words pierced deep into Obi-Wan’s heart as he looked up at the tall Jedi who he’d hoped would become his guardian and teacher after everything they had been through together.
Obi-Wan had failed to catch the eye of a Jedi Knight or Master who was looking for a new Padawan to teach. He watched as one by one his age-mates all left the crèche to begin their apprenticeships with their new Masters, moving on to learn to be knights, shadows, guards, healers, negotiators, and all the other classes a padawan could learn to become, until he was the last.
No one had wanted him.
So he’d packed his very few belongings and had been loaded onto a shuttle ship to be sent off to join the Agricorps. Technically, it was still part of the Jedi Order and there was no shame in joining it, but being a farmer was never the future Obi-Wan had dreamed of.
He dreamed of the Stars.
The shuttle never made it to its destination, and instead Obi-Wan had found himself in a series of unfortunate events that had dragged him deep into the Deepsea mines on Bandomeer as a slave.
He hadn’t been alone, however. Jedi Master Qui-Gon Jinn had also been on the shuttle, and it was thanks in large part to Obi-Wan that the two of them managed to escape. Jinn had seemed so impressed with him for that, and had hinted that he might offer Obi-Wan a Padawanship.
But it seemed that was not to be.
Because no one ever wanted him.
The two had taken refuge on a small moon where they had been able to remove their slave collars (the bombs in them having long been deactivated), and get basic treatment for the wounds the hard life of a mining slave had left them with. They had no credits for bacta, no comms for contacting the temple. Jinn didn’t even have his lightsaber. They had only the ragged clothes on their backs and the Force to guide them. Which it had. It had led them to a smuggler’s ship where they were able to trade labor for a ride off-planet, but it had yet to lead them any closer to their home on Coruscant.
And then Obi-Wan’s bad luck had struck again.
He was still too young, but the stress of slave work had weakened his body, making it more sensitive. He didn’t know what it was specifically that had triggered the change, but he and Jinn had been wandering through a marketplace in hopes to find work they could do in exchange for credits or food, when he’d suddenly felt dizzy.
Perhaps it was the heavy scent of incense burning on the counter of a booth, or the spices and pollen. Maybe it was the heavy scent of an Alpha near their rut walking by, but Obi-Wan fell hard into an early presentation.
And apparently, he was an omega.
Which didn’t make sense to him. Surely the Jedi healers would have told him before clearing him for travel to the corps. Humans and near-humans all tended to present between the ages of eighteen and twenty. Obi-Wan was only twelve. But it was important for young members of the Order who had a secondary gender to be informed of which one it was so that they could take the proper classes about their bodies before they reached the age of presentation. But he hadn’t been told he would present Omega, so he assumed he was a neutral beta and didn’t have to worry about such things.
But he was an omega. The sickly sweetness that poured out of him was enough to confirm that, let alone what had followed.
Jinn had taken notice, the alpha grabbing him and yanking him out of the crowd, out of town and to the safety of an abandoned structure where Obi-Wan suffered through his first heat alone in the only room left with a functioning lock; a closet. No supplies to nest with, no toys to help ease the fire within him, not even food. He only had a couple canteens of water he’d been left with.
Where Jinn had been, he didn’t know. He couldn’t focus enough to try and see if he could sense the man in the Force to see if he was standing guard or if he’d abandoned him to continue his mission of acquiring credits.
The time passed in a blur that felt like it was never-ending but also without any grasp on how time actually passed. He didn’t know how long heats tended to last—he hadn’t taken the omega health class to learn such things, after all. But it did finally end and he cleaned himself up the best he could before leaving his closet.
Jinn hadn’t been around, and he decided to set out in search of the adult.
He’d found him in a cantina on the edge of town, well into a hand of Sabacc.
Now he wished he hadn’t found him at all.
After finishing the hand and collecting his winnings, Jinn had dragged him outside to deliver his blow.
“You’ll never be a Jedi.”
“I’m done with you.”
“Even the Agricorps wouldn’t have any use for you.”
“You’re on your own.”
“Why would I offer you a padawanship?”
And of course, “I don’t know who would ever want you.”
Obi-Wan didn’t know exactly how the conversation had gone, but those words had stuck out, lingering with him as Jinn thrust a small pouch of credits into his hands and turned to go, muttering something about “That should be enough to get you started.”
But started on what? Obi-Wan was so lost, and the Force suddenly felt so cold.
He sank down against the wall and curled up into himself as silent tears rolled down his cheeks.
“Are you okay, ad’ika?” an unfamiliar and modified voice asked as a shadow fell over him.
Ad’ika? Obi-Wan had studied many languages, but that was a wholly unfamiliar word to him. But he could guess that it was a form of addressing someone, given the context provided by the words spoken in Basic.
He shook his head and curled tighter in on himself.
There was a dull clanking sound as the shadow shifted and disappeared from over him. The person who had spoken had knelt down and removed a helmet, “Ad’ika?” the voice said again, no longer modified by the helmet.
The term sounded so warm and concerned.
Obi-wan broke down even more, “He abandoned me.” he hiccuped, his voice mounting with his emotions, “I thought he’d…but he…he abandoned me!”
“Who?” The voice asked in alarm.
“J-Jedi Master Jinn…” he sobbed, shoulders shaking.
“Demagolka jetii.” the voice spat out before an armored hand touched his arm ever so gently, “Ad’ika, please look at me?”
Obi-Wan peaked up at the person. A Chiss, their face a mix of feminine and masculine as if in the process of a transition, wearing armor.
Mandalorian? He glanced at the helmet that had been set aside by the Chiss’ knee. Yes, he was pretty sure the armor matched the Mandalorian designs he’d seen in history class. The Order had a rocky at best relationship with the Mandalorians. Even becoming enemy factions in times of war, so it had been an important topic in that class.
“Ad’ika, where is your aliit—your family? I can return you to them.”
Obi-Wan shook his head, “They didn’t want me…gave me to the Jedi…who also don’t want me—” his voice broke, “...I’m alone, I have nowhere to…” he took a shaky breath and tucked his head back down into his arms and knees.
“Dral Ad’ika, udesiir, udesiir. You are indeed wanted. All ade are precious.” the Chiss soothed and held out their hand with a smile, “I am Mursa‘iton’lemmi of House Deshra, he/him, but most call me Mursa. And if you’d like, I’d like to offer to bring you home with me to Manda’yaim. Kir'manir—adoption, gai bal manda, is common among my people. You would be welcomed by all.”
“Adoption?”
The man smiled and nodded, “I of course offer that myself, but if you’re not ready for that, you’ll have my offer standing, as well as many other offers when you are, I’m sure.”
Obi-Wan considered it, allowing himself to search the Force. The Force hummed pleasantly. It didn’t guide his choice, leaving it completely up to him, but also not warning him away.
And well, it was nice to be told he was wanted…
Slowly, Obi-Wan nodded. Mursa smiled and helped Obi-Wan up.
“Do you have a name, ad’ika?”
“Obi-Wan Kenobi.”
“Olarom, Obi-Wan.” Mursa put his helmet back on and then surprised him by scooping him up like a small child, settling him on his hip, “Come on, let's get you some proper clothes and tuck you in safely on the ship.”
Obi-Wan nodded and let himself settle in comfortably against the armored body holding him, resting his cheek on the man’s shoulder as he sniffled back his remaining tears.
To be continued...