Chapter Text

‘Light Unwilling To Be Snuffed Out’

Quick AN: 

• Not Canon or Legends compliant. I will fuck around in the timeline and cherry-pick lore from all types of sources as per usual. Timeline is heavily altered for obvious reasons.

• Yes, I know that’s not how the Force works. 

Chapter 1; Sunrise

~948 ARR~

Jaster Mereel should have known better than to think this was going to be an easy contract.

It had been too good to be true. A seemingly easy contract with few risks and a good reward. Credits they could have put to good use in rebuilding Mandalore.

Nothing in this Galaxy came easy, Jaster had long since learned that. Which is why he was angry at himself for getting his Verde into this mess. Angry at himself to believe that his enemies were gone. Angry at not double checking intel when it seemed too good to be true.

Montross would not air-lift him. Perhaps it ran deeper than just leaving him behind, or perhaps it was just a cowardly action made in a moment of fear. Either way, he had betrayed Jaster.

Now, his leg was torn up and bleeding, leaving him unable to try and flee. Kyr’tsad surrounded him, laughing at his misery and approaching death.

Jaster hardly heard them. He was too busy thinking, his mind on his family, on his ward.

Even as Jaster stared down the barrel of an Ion Cannon, all he could think of was his own regret of not adopting Jango.

He should have. Or at least, he should have offered. Jango was angry by nature, and Jaster could not blame him for it. He had lost much despite his young age, yet pulled through. Jaster should have offered to adopt him sooner instead of waiting for the boy to bring it up. He should have offered, even if there was a good chance Jango would decline, just so the boy knew it was an option open to him.

Now that was too late.

Soon Tor kriffing Vizsla would be done with his evil monologue, which Jaster had stopped listening to a long time ago, and then it would be over.

Jaster was not afraid of death, but he was not at peace with it either. Not by any means.

He would leave his ward without a guardian a second time. He would never be able to finish his second research paper. He would never be able to finish his life's work. His achievements might not even become a footnote in the rebuilding of the Mandalorian Empire.

Focussing became hard, Jaster realised.

Blood loss, no doubt.

Maybe that’s why his ears were buzzing. It was an odd vibration, one which Jaster had never heard before. It was soft at first, then became more prominent.

Almost like…It was moving closer.

Jaster wrote it off as a side effect of blood loss.

As his vision blurred and he started to waver where he was kneeling, Jaster was almost amused at the idea of dying before Vizsla could shoot him down. It kind of felt like dying on his own terms in a way.

The last thing he noted before passing out, was the buzzing loud in his ear, and an odd blue hue which did not quite seem to fit in this environment in the corner of his eye.

---

When Jaster awoke, he thought he had died.

Then the pain of his injuries set in and he was rudely informed he had not joined the Eternal March. His leg ached to the point Jaster felt like throwing up. His head seemed to spin, making him nauseas and Jaster feared he would be losing the little food he had in his system if he opened his eyes.

Jaster waited for it to fade before he even tried to open his eyes.

It was cold, but there was warmth nearby which provided a bit of comfort. Jaster had been bundled up in a hooded cloak, most of his armour still in place with exception of his leg pieces and his buy’ce. While he was not bound in any way, he felt more vulnerable than he ever had before.

His last memory was an Ion Cannon aimed at his chest and the flash of copper and blue. Now he awoke Manda knows where.

Upon opening his eyes, Jaster was met by a starry night. How many hours had passed? Why the kriff was he outside? He needed to get back to his Verde. He needed to see Jan’ika–

Jaster noted movement from the corner of his eyes. Without moving his head, his gaze flickered over to the side.

A fire crackled away, next to it sat a stranger huddled below a blanket. His features were difficult to see with the fabric pulled over their head, but Jaster had a clear view of his eyes.

They twinkled in the dim light the fire provided. It was not hard to see the deep sadness in them– in fact, it was the first thing Jaster truly noted.

The being shivered but made no move to sit closer to the fire, he seemed to be too lost in thought, or rather echoy'la– in mourning.

There was a sense of peace surrounding him, and despite being incredibly vulnerable at the moment, Jaster did not feel threatened by him.

Still, Jaster startled when the being acknowledged him.

“Jate Vaar’tuur.” The man greeted, his tone quiet.

While he did not look away from the fire, he did seem more guarded than before– more masked. It happened in the blink of an eye.

“Who–” Jaster was cut off, coughing violently. His throat was too dry to talk.

The man moved to aid him, reaching for a water-skin and helping Jaster sit up enough to drink a bit. Cool water soothed his throat and the being gently helped him lay down again.

“You’ve had a long day. Rest a few more hours. I’ll return you to your people at the first light.”

Jaster paused, then shook his head, “I need to call my Verde.”

The man paused, then tilted his head, “You can try.” He replied, readily handing Jaster’s buy’ce over to him so he did not have to get up.

Jaster fiddled with it, extracting his external comlink to reach his Verde on the other side of the planet only to discover it was completely wrecked.

He gritted in annoyance, throwing the busted comlink off as hard as he could. “Haar’chak!”

The stranger gave no reaction, not even twitching at Jaster’s loud curse. Jaster observed him for a moment, then narrowed his eyes at him.

“You knew it was busted.” Jaster stated, his tone accusatory.

The man seemed mildly amused as he asked, “Would you have trusted my word on it?”

Jaster could practically feel the raised eyebrow even if he could not see it with the hood hiding his features.

“...Probably not.” Jaster admitted with a clenched jaw.

“Try to sleep.” The man turned back to the fire, “You will need all the energy you can get.”

“Who are you?”

The stranger shook his head, “Sleep, Mando.”

Jaster tried his best to fight the wave of exhaustion which came with the stranger’s words.

He was losing the battle.

“Who are you?”

“I am known as Ben.” ‘Ben’ replied softly. “What can I call you?”

“Jaster.”

Ben paused, shivering as he seemed to be lost in thought once more. He replied eventually, looking over to Jaster briefly before his gaze returned to the fire. “Well met.”

Frowning, Jaster voiced his displeasure with Ben’s dismissal.

“My enemies are still at large. If you speak the truth and will return me to my men, we should move in the dark.” Jaster offered, “There is a stretch of land without cover we need to cross. We’ll be seen if we don’t.”

Kyr’tsad was still out there. They could be drawn here by the fire. Ben should have never lit it in the first place.

Then again, he did seem to be colder than one ought to be. Korda VI was not a warm planet, but it was far from freezing or frigid. Despite that, Ben was shivering. He did not look at Jaster when he shook his head no.

“We best wait a bit longer.” He dismissed Jaster’s concern again, though did not bother explaining his reasoning behind it. Another wave of exhaustion passed over him as Ben spoke up again. “Get some rest. I’ll keep the watch.”

Despite Jaster’s best efforts, he did fall asleep again, only waking when the sky had lightened a bit.

It had been a handful of hours judging from the brightness in the sky. Hours which could have been used to get back to his Verde and warn them of Kyr’tsad. Of Montross’ betrayal.

Jaster was not pleased when he awoke.

His gaze landed on Ben, who was still shivering next to the fire. The stranger’s eyes had lifted from the flames which were slowly dying and were instead watching the mountain range to the East.

“We’ve lost any cover of the dark we could have used to move.” Jaster’s voice cracked but he was too frustrated to care. “You do know I am not capable of fighting in this state, right? Why did you insist on waiting this long?!”

He needed to return to Jango. To his Verde. He needed to make sure the dar’manda shabuir could not hurt his people.

Ben did not look away from the mountain range where the sun would soon appear.

“I want to watch the sun rise.” He simply stated.

The strangeness of the answer in combination with the fact that Ben had sounded small when he admitted his wish threw the Jaster for a loop. He frowned in confusion, then glared for a good while.

What an odd stranger.

Then his features softened a bit. The confusion returned but there was a hint of interest there too, “Wasn’t dusk enough?” Jaster asked, not to taunt but a question born of genuine need to understand.

“I used to love dusk.” Ben muttered, “Nowadays I find myself more appreciative of dawn.”

“How so?”

“...There was a time where it was hard to remember the sun could still rise.” Ben watched as the run reached the top of the mountain range. Its rays reflected onto the snowy mountains creating the illusion that they were on fire. “It reminds me that even as the dark sets in, the light will come back around eventually. It always does. It has become hard to remember that recently.”

The answer left Jaster speechless.

Ben sounded wounded– hurt in a way which would not heal with time alone. He looked like a tired Verd, a battle-weary warrior. Jaster had seen the look before. Many Verde wore it. The glint of deeply rooted pain sparked in Ben’s eyes too.

Instead of asking more, Jaster turned his head to watch the sunrise along with Ben.

The first orange light peeked over the horizon, slowly but surely creeping over the mountain range. It did not take long for the rays of sun to hit their position, immediately bringing a bit of warmth as the dun basked them in light.

With Ben’s head tilted, Jaster could see a few more features.

Pale skin, greenish-blue eyes, copper hair. Ben looked much younger than Jaster had initially guessed, but his eyes betrayed his age where wrinkles did not. His hair was metallic, not just from the light hitting it just right, but because his hair had a natural metallic sheen.

Turning back to watch the sunrise, Jaster found himself calmer than he had been. More hopeful. Despite knowing fully well that his enemies might be descending on them as they sat here, Jaster could not help but feel like everything would be okay.

It was peaceful.

The dawn of a new day.

What should have been the end the day before had long since passed them, and the Ka’ra had blessed them with a new beginning.

Jaster did not quite understand, not completely, but he liked this feeling. He wanted to understand, to learn.

“I think it is time.” Ben finally spoke up. He had stopped shivering as badly as he had been now that the warmth of the sun had hit them. “Correct me if I’m wrong, but you set up camp eighteen clicks from here, no?”

Now that it was light, Jaster recognised this area. Montross and Jaster had moved through it just before Kyr’tsad ambushed them.

It was a bit further than eighteen clicks, but the estimate was close enough to make Jaster pause.

“...How did you know that?”

Ben had stood to gather the few belongings he seemed to carry. Though… the freshly burned off emblem on the bag indicated that it had not been his very long. In fact, if Jaster was correct in his assumptions, Ben carried a bag which used to hold the Kyr’tsad sigil.

Come to think of it, his cloak seemed to be meant to cover armour and did very little in terms of keeping Ben warm. It also explained why the hood of his cloak was so deep– it was meant to be able to cover a buy’ce.

“I could see the smoke coming from the campfires.” Ben replied.

If that had been the case, surely Jaster himself spotted it too. Then again, he had been pretty out of it the night before.

“It’s probably closer to twenty clicks from here.” Jaster carefully replied, “I don’t know if I can walk.”

With how Ben’s hood now shadowed his features, Jaster could only see his smile. It was enough to make him concerned.

“I was not counting on that, no.” Ben sounded amused.

“Then how–?” Jaster stopped as Ben crouched down next to him and settled his hands near Jaster’s injury.

“Your wounds are stable, but too much movement might reopen them.” Ben observed, then moved to cross Jaster’s ankles. “I’m going to pick you up now.”

The calm words were the only warning Jaster got before Ben swiftly and skillfully pulled Jaster up and over his shoulders into a fireman's carry.

Yelping, Jaster scrambled to stabilise himself. His arm and bad leg were held by Ben while his other limps awkwardly hung over Ben’s back.

Jaster was not a small man. He was both taller and buffer than Ben. Jaster on his own was heavy, but he was also wearing his beskar’gam.

Ben on the other hand looked more lean and was definitely smaller of stature than Jaster was.

Logically, there was no way Ben could drag, let alone carry Jaster, without some kind of aid. Yet, Ben had picked Jaster up with ease. Not just that, he seemed unbothered by Jaster’s weight as he started moving.

“What the– put me down!” Jaster’s free hand clung to the fabric of Ben’s cloak.

“Forgive me, friend, but this is simply the only way to move without losing time or risking your injuries reopening.” Ben did not let go, his grip remaining unrelenting.

Jaster dared not struggle for fear of falling or injuring Ben.

To make matters even more interesting, Ben did not just walk– he started running. Ben was carrying a heavy Mandalorian whilst running, and he was not even breaking a sweat while doing it.

Somehow, in the few hours Jaster had known him and the very, very short conversation he had had with Ben, Ben had proven to be the most interesting being Jaster had met in a very long time.

What Jaster had expected to take hours, ended up taking a little over an hour and a half. Ben was fast and had seemed to have a ridiculous amount of stamina. He ran across the planes quickly and steadily.

Before long the camp of the Haat’ade came into view.

As did a group of Kyr’tsade from their rear, actively trying to catch up with jetpacks.

“We have company.”

Ben clicked his tongue, “I was hoping we had more of a head start.” He admitted, only slightly winded from running.

This man was absolutely insane.

“Are you telling me you knew they were nearby and still insisted on waiting?!” Jaster’s hand reached for the blaster at his belt with his free hand, trying not to move too much in case it slowed Ben’s pace.

“I told you my reasons.” Ben said calmly.

By now Ben was breathing more heavily than before, but he showed no sign of slowing down. It may just be Jaster’s imagination, but it felt like Ben started speeding up.

It was nerve wrecking. The camp was nearby and would be able to help, if only they knew of their approach. Kyr’tsad was getting closer and closer, their jetpacks becoming louder and louder.

They had not opened fire yet, which was a small miracle, but Ben had started to move less predictable.

Rather than running in a straight line, Ben started weaving in order to make them a tougher target. It worked for a while, even as Kyr’tsad did open fire.

Eventually, when the jetpacks were flying past them, Jaster knew they would not make it to the camp.

They were still far. Close enough to be seen, surely, but too far for it to matter. They would both be murdered before anyone could see what was going on. Whatever Ben had accomplished by saving Jaster’s life was about to be for nothing.

To his surprise, however, Ben simply set Jaster down on the ground before positioning himself so that his legs were on either side of the man.

“What are you-?” Jaster’s eyes widened as Ben pulled a metallic cylinder from his belt.

A deep blue light slid from the cylinder.

It was a Jetii’kad.

One which Ben was clearly proficient in as he started deflecting and returning the blaster bolt shot their way. Jaster was breathless as he watched Ben move. His movements were graceful, not at all panicked or frantic, but smooth and well considered movements.

A moment ago, Jaster thought they would both die here. Now, Jaster was feeling a bit more hopeful. Jettise were fierce fighters, every Mandalorian knew that, and it was clear this particular one was battle trained.

Whether is was the light show Ben was actively giving or the fact that there was a group of Kyr’tsade were nearby the camp, the Haat’ade finally made their appearance.

And they were quick to realise why Ben remained stationary as he defended himself and Jaster.

“Jaster!” Jango yelled, quick join the fray and aid Ben in fighting off Kyr’tsad by giving cover fire.

With him were several others and with their numbers and Ben’s aid they were able to finish of their enemies.

Jaster remained prone during this, but was soon approached by a very worried Jango and a concerned Mij. His other Verde gathered closer as well, clearly relieved to see their Mand’alor alive and well.

“Mereel. Sitrep.”

“Hurt, but not actively dying.” Jaster replied, “Could definitely use some bacta. My leg is kriffed.”

“I thought you were dead!” Jango sounded upset and close to crying, if he was not already- it was hard to tell with his buy’ce.

“C’mere, adika.” Jaster reached for Jango, pulling his son close, “I’m alive. I’m okay.”

“I want you in the medbay asap.” Mij gently interrupted, “Myles! Help me move Mereel. I don’t like being in the open like this.”

Jaster turned to Mij, not letting go of his son as he did, “Check on Ben. He is probably tired and it would not surprise me if he got injured.”

“Ben’s the Jetii I assume?” Mij looked around. “Where the kriff did he go?”

Jaster frowned, then looked around the best he could. He could see his Verde, but Ben was nowhere to be found. It was as if he vanished into thin air.

Ben had gone as suddenly as he came.

And he would not easily be found.

---

Ben had been confused when he woke up.

The first thing Ben noted when he woke up was how cold he was.

After a year on Tatooine, he had never been this cold– not even at night when the binary suns were beyond the horizon.

He had shivered violently when he woke up. Ben was freezing, cold in a way he had not felt in a long time. Force, he was colder now than he had been after he fell through the ice during one of his trips to Illum.

Jedi in general ran cold. There were a lot of scientific reasons behind it but the short of it was that Force Sensitives in general were usually unable to remain on the temperature their body should be at without a bit of aid. It did not matter what species, they were always cold and that could be dangerous. It was why they wore layers upon layers of warm robes to keep themselves warm.

Ben was a Stewjonian humanoid, Stewjon was a warm river planet– not hot in the way Tatooine was, but definitely not cold either. It meant that Stewjonians were used to warmer climates which in turn meant that Ben was usually cold in general. He learned to live with it in some ways. There were Force tricks to keep warm, and layering countless of robes had gone well enough for most of his life.

Tatooine, even at night, was not this cold. The planet did not cool off enough for it to ever reach this cold at night. It took a moment to realise the cave he was currently in was not his cave.

He had woken up in a cold cave, clearly not on Tatooine. The blanket he had been laying on was nowhere to be found. His bag, which was always ready to go in case of emergency, was gone too. All Ben’s supplies, all of his water– it was all gone.

All he had were the ragged desert robes he was wearing, and the lightsaber on his belt.

But most damningly of all, Ben could feel the pure and undeniable Light of the Force which had been shattered a year ago.

And it had called him.

So Ben moved according to its wish.

Because what else was a Jedi supposed to do when the Light called for them to follow its Will after years of not sensing any Light in the Force at all.

There was much he did not understand. How he got from Tatooine to whatever this chilly planet was a mystery. Why the Light was so bright. Why he was drawn to a Mandalorian about to be executed by Kyr’tsad.

But here Ben was, sitting next to a fire trying to get warm. He was wrapped in the cloak of one of the Kyr’tsade he killed to stop the strange Mando from being executed. The Mando who has almost bled out by the time Ben scared the Kyr’tsade off enough to provide medical attention.

He had carried the Mando some distance from where he had left the Ion Cannon he broke and, upon seeing that night was steadily approaching, had started a fire in an attempt to not freeze to death.

It had been easy to get lost in thought, staring into the flames.

Fire consumed all, but it also set free. It burned, uncaring of what it took– what it destroyed. It also provided light and warmth, it drew beings to be together to sit by the fire. Some of the best conversations Ben had, had been around a campfire under the stars.

Fire was symbolic in many cultures. The Jedi were no different. The double edge of fire was used in many idioms and ancient wisdoms. Most importantly, it was a large part of the Funeral Ceremony– the pires which would allow the Jedi who had passed to move on and be one with the Force once more.

Ben knew he would probably never get his pire.

While he had yet to see more evidence for it, something told Ben that he was not in a time he recognised. The Force felt far too bright– brighter than Ben had ever seen it. On top of that, none of his bonds were present. Not the ones which snapped years ago due to the deaths of those on the other end, not the blocked one between him and his Padawan, not the fledgeling bond he had created between him and Luke in order to shield the boy from the Dark– all of them were gone.

Ben did not have answers, and at this moment he was at peace with that.

Because the Force felt Light and kept him company in a way it had not when he was on Tatooine. Because the Light told him it was okay, and that it would guide him.

Ben would once again follow the Force’s whims, especially now he had an understanding of the Force he never had before.

Part of him would always mourn what he lost, the other was determined to follow the Force’s will to a better Galaxy for all.

Mourning what he had lost was inevitable, but he could not let it distract him either.

He would keep the flame of the Light alive, no matter how badly the Dark would try to snuff it out.

---

Jaster: *Almost died and suspicious of Ben* I need to call my son!

Ben: *Hands Jaster his helmet without question* ...sure thing.

Jaster: *Discovers his commlink is busted* Haar’chak. You knew! ( •̀⤙•́ )

Ben: *Shrugging* would you have believed me? (ᵕ—ᴗ—)

Jaster: ...fair enough, but still!

Ben: *Just sitting next to the fire, seemingly unconcerned with the hostile territory they are in*

Jaster: *On edge and getting pissed* We need to move!

Ben: You should sleep some more.

~some hours later~

Jaster: *Awoken by the sun* Damn it, we lost the cover of dark! Why?!

Ben: *Clearly going through… something™* I wished to watch the sun rise once more. (｡ᵕ ◞ _◟)

Jaster: (っº - º ς)

Ben: Alright, let’s go. Your enemies are closing in now. *Proceeds to pick Jaster up*

Jaster: \(”˚☐˚)/

Ben: *Carries Jaster to his allies without breaking a sweat*

Jaster: ヽ(°〇°)ﾉ

Ben: *Sets Jaster down before revealing his lightsaber and protecting Jaster*

Jaster: (⚆_⚆)

Ben: *Vanishes while Jaster reunites with his ad*

Jaster: ( ˶°ㅁ°)