☆ and when all the flowers are rotten and all the cannons shot - COMPLETE
Rating: Explicit - A mission in which Cody and Obi-Wan have to go undercover as husbands causes unwanted feelings to spill over. A retelling of moments and missions throughout the Clone Wars that span the length of the pair's relationship
☆ inundated with the fated thought of you - ONGOING
Rating: Teen - (Time loop fic!) A mission in the field goes swiftly, disastrously wrong... but the Force, it seems, has other plans.
1, 2, 3
☆ take up arms (take my hands, let us waltz) for the dead - COMPLETE
Rating: Teen - Cody and Obi-Wan go to a Republic ball together. Pining ensues!
1, 2, 3
☆ unfurl my wings (my fall makes no sound here) - ONESHOT
Rating: Teen - Wingfic. An AU in which Commander class Clones have been genetically modified to have wings to aid in battle - Obi-Wan, embarrassingly, thinks they're rather beautiful.
1
☆ it's daylight again, and you look like I've failed you - ONESHOT
Rating: Teen - Obi-Wan learns that Cody has been sent to Kamino for reconditioning, and stages a rescue.
1
☆ Tripping Along - ONESHOT
Rating: Explicit - (Sex pollen fic!) Cody and Obi-Wan happen across a botanical discovery with... interesting effects. Cody decides to grasp the opportunity with both hands.
1
☆ grip me like an animal that you're about to spear - ONESHOT
Rating: Explicit - Cody can't quite focus on paperwork while there's a needy Jedi in his lap.
1
Gen:
☆ Escaping the Lucrehulk - ONESHOT
Rating: Gen - A rewrite of a cutscene that takes place in Jedi: Survivor
1
☆ After the Fall - ONESHOT
Rating: Teen - A rewrite of Obi-Wan's 'death' scene in TCW S4E15 'Deception'
1
Ace Attorney
Franmaya
☆ it's what my heart just yearns to say (in ways that can't be said - ONESHOT
Rating: Teen - Maya is frustrated by her feelings about the prosecutor she can't stop thinking about
Cody mumbles softly under his breath as he focuses, and Obi-Wan forces himself to look away. They've had more time to talk than they usually would do as of late, and Cody especially has relaxed over the past few days. It's made it harder to ignore the growing… something… that's been blossoming between them, delicate and hopeful as a newly unfurled petal and yet, Obi-Wan fears, deadlier than a thorn. To want more is becoming a natural response to his wonderful Commander's company - sharp, witty, and a competence that rivals even the Grandmaster's success rate - but to want more is to dance with the inevitable downfall.
He's content with this being enough, he thinks. It's a selfish indulgence, to give himself over to such emotions when the war demands so much of them, but as long as they're stuck here, it's a strange thing - they have all the time in the world.
(Or: the eighth loop that they face in the temple comes with unexpected complications. Obi-Wan realises he must make a decision)
Massive fanfic rec for Manners Maketh Mando by Dreamsoft - Highly HIGHLY recommend I read this and have been thinking about it for weeks I need a whole epic series its so delicious. Here is a Star Wars-ie style poster inspired by it 🧡💙
They fall silent, neither quite sure how to approach this. Cody lets out an uncharacteristically aggravated noise, dragging a hand over his face. He chances taking a step closer, wide, panicked eyes tracking over Obi-Wan as if he might disappear at any moment.
"General," Cody whispers raggedly, terrified to give a voice to what he just saw. "You died."
Obi-Wan's fingers curl into tight fists under the safety of his sleeves, disquieted and unsteady. "I think," he starts, trying to keep his voice as even as he can, "I think you are correct in that assessment, Commander."
(Or: a mission in the field goes swiftly, disastrously wrong - but the Force has other plans.)
@inkblotgods IS DOING SOMETHING REALLY COOL WITH THIS, IT'S SO MUCH FUN
It's this lovely little mystery that codywan has to resolve, and in the process there's gorgeous character work that I adore and lovely prose 😌❤️
I'm beta reading for this fic, so I have spoilers, and it's going in super cool directions?? I had so much fun thinking over theories between chapter one and two, and the twists do not disappoint :>
Anyway, the next chapter should be out soon (maybe a week?), he's got it just about ready to go now ❤️
They fall silent, neither quite sure how to approach this. Cody lets out an uncharacteristically aggravated noise, dragging a hand over his face. He chances taking a step closer, wide, panicked eyes tracking over Obi-Wan as if he might disappear at any moment.
"General," Cody whispers raggedly, terrified to give a voice to what he just saw. "You died."
Obi-Wan's fingers curl into tight fists under the safety of his sleeves, disquieted and unsteady. "I think," he starts, trying to keep his voice as even as he can, "I think you are correct in that assessment, Commander."
(Or: a mission in the field goes swiftly, disastrously wrong - but the Force has other plans.)
Happy birthday to my wonderful, fantastically talented friend @inkblotgods!
Congrats on a great year and wrapping up an incredible fic (seriously go check out and when all the flowers are rotten and all the cannons shot, it's SO good!!) and everything you have coming up in the year ahead!! <3
Love you dude, I hope next year is even better <3 <3 <3
ON GOD ASPEN I AM IN YOUR WALLS!!! OVER THE EPILOGUE!!! AAAAAAAAAAA!!!
(I mean this with so much love and admiration, i love this fic and will continue to come back to it forever. What a thing for me to have just stumbled upon on tumblr one day 1-2 years ago. I love not only ur characterization of cody & obi-wan but also just your writing style in general. you have such a way of putting a character's feelings into your writing that i am carried away by it and experiencing the story exactly as they are. phenomenal, incredible, etc etc. I hope you know that at least one tumblr user loved your codywan fic in 2025 and is very excited to see any/all things you write next.)
Ohhhhhh my goodness, what a beautiful message to wake up to???? 😭😭 Hello anon you have my whole heart and I am legitimately tearing up over here. I hope you have a wonderful day!!! ❤️❤️❤️❤️
and when all the flowers are rotten and all the cannons shot
Chapter 17 - Epilogue
Pairings: Codywan
Tags/Warnings: (MAJOR SPOILERS FOR THIS CHAPTER) heavy angst, heavy fluff, lots of emotion
Description:
The truth of the matter burrows deep into Cody’s skin, nestled tightly amongst the other secrets he harbours that are too shameful to ever speak aloud.
He digs his fingers into his temples, breathing in heavy lungfuls of the steam-drenched air as if it might reverse the realisation that now weighs upon his heart like lead.
This is no longer just some passing infatuation.
He’s in love with Obi-Wan Kenobi.
(or: an account of the relationship between one Marshal Commander and his General from in the midst of a war.)
This wouldn't have been possible without my dear friend @dreamsoft-mog in the slightest. Please check out their work (if you like this, I can guarantee you'll be a fan of their work Strike Me Down!) Thank you so so much from the bottom of my heart for helping make this final chapter a worthy one.
So without further ado...
✷✷✷✷✷
His screams are enough to tip off the higher ups that something is amiss, and the scans they drag him through confirm it.
"Defective," he's told, with a disapproving frown. Something is out of place with the chip. It's not something he understands, but when he asks for clarification, they act surprised. They all, he is told calmly, are inhabited by a chip to make following orders easier, but his is acting up - a blip on the scanner. Something about the phrasing rings familiar to him in a way that not much has in a while, though it feels hazy when he tries to reach for it now.
He imagines that he should feel something about the news. Peace, horror, curiosity. But all he feels is a numb sense of acceptance. He's a good soldier, but it makes sense that they'd have a failsafe. He'll just have to work double-time to prove his obedience, now that they've discovered this.
All things considered, he's lucky he's not put down on the spot when they find out - Gods know that any other trooper would have been considered a liability and executed, especially given his existing hearing impairment. It's only his long history of service and competence in strategic matters that keeps him hanging on, though it's clear his new COs are nervous about deploying him again in wake of the news.
His past, no matter how CC-2224 tries, is slowly falling away from him.
Most of the time, all he can remember is flashes. Missions, here and there. Most of his training is still intact, though even those parts have holes in them.
Sometimes though, on rare occasion, moments of lucidity come to him at night, when the soldier recedes and Cody is finally able to take in a lungful of breath. Trembling and feverish, he glances around at the unfamiliar bunkroom in terror, droplets of sweat forming on his temple. This, he knows, is what Helix identified in him all those months ago - though it's begun to feel like years, now.
Defective. Broken.
The chip, he assumes - fuck, how had they not known? - must be unable to exert its full, encompassing control that it is in his brothers. It's a cruel prolonging of this torture, when he'd much rather just succumb to the darkness alongside the rest of the Vode. Alongside the rest of his family.
CC-2224 is lucky. He does not have to look into the eyes of the men he was raised amongst and notice the absence of life there, the listless stare that seems to haunt them all. He isn't cursed to remember their chosen names every time he barks out an order, every time he methodically and coldly organises their designation numbers in the ever-increasing list of fatalities. CC-2224 doesn't have to be buried alive under the weight of his failures with every intake of breath.
Cody does what he can.
In each of his sparse moments of control, he starts to conduct a small ritual. Whenever he finds himself inhabiting his body once more, he wastes no time, slipping through the hallways in disguise as the man who stole his body, to make his way to his - to CC-2224's - office. He finds the stack of datapads stashed away in the desk drawers as they always are, takes out the small flimsi notebook that he'd initially discovered deep in his his pockets many cycles ago, and writes.
His fingers are clumsy and out of practice, his body slow to respond as it fights against his every movement, but still, he writes. He doesn't stop until the notebook is filled with the names of every soldier who'd died under his command since the Empire's takeover, mumbling a Mando'a remembrance, an apology, and swearing to put things right.
"Ni su'cuyi, gar kyr'adyc, ni partayli, gar darasuum," he whispers feverishly into the dark, his eyes welling with tears. "Ni ceta."
On the nights he's unlucky enough to dream, he dreams of Obi-Wan.
His Jedi's form is burned into the back of his eyelids, face twisted into an expression of horror as he plunges down, down into that chasm, a hole burning in his chest. Cody never actually saw the fall, but it hardly matters now. All he can do is desperately hope that it was quick. If it was his blaster shot that ended things, then it would have been.
It's a strange thing, being somewhat comforted by the thought that his body was the one to kill his lover, but he doesn't know if he could bear the alternative - Obi-Wan bleeding out slowly at the bottom of the ravine, wondering why his family had betrayed him.
On more than one occasion, Cody has shut himself into one of the smaller 'freshers and sobbed until he throws up. The one benefit to being an important accessory to the genocide of half of the Galaxy is that at least he has the clearance to lock doors behind himself without too many questions being asked.
Fuck. How had none of them seen this coming?
CC-2224 does not seem to notice his comings and goings - or at the very least, anything he does notice remains unreported. He hides the notebook in a small, unassuming supply cupboard, hoping beyond hope that each time he wakes up as himself, it won't yet have been discovered.
Eventually, though he can't tell exactly how long it takes - weeks, months? - Cody begins to form a plan.
While masquerading as his counterpart, he hears whispers of a rebellion brewing in the shadows, something his superiors seem to think he's been particularly effective at dealing with. He shudders to think of how many of his former allies his body has mindlessly put down, during the gaps in his memory.
Cody nods curtly, quietly filing away the information for later.
It might be a long game, but it's one he can play. At this point, he has nothing left to lose.
For months, Cody stockpiles codes, passphrases, and secrets - anything he can get find without overplaying his hand. He doesn't dare write them down for fear of discovery, instead using an old meditation trick Obi-Wan taught him long ago for memorising large quantities of information snippets at once.
It doesn't honour his death. Nothing Cody could ever do will ever come close. But knowing that it's what his Jedi would do in his position is the only thing that keeps him from losing his mind to a spiral of complete despair, so he'll take what he can get.
CC-2224 doesn't have access to this little pocket of his mind, just as Cody as no access to his. That knowledge unfortunately doesn't do much to lessen the creeping paranoia snapping at his heels at every waking moment.
Each new time he's conscious, he feels stronger in his body than the last, though he still doesn't have complete control of himself, by any stretch of the imagination. One morning on a mission, he manages to hold on with wavering consciousness just long enough to bribe a guard for a frequency code that might get him one step closer.
The next, he takes over just as CC-2224 executes a civilian.
The things he does and the things he has not done will haunt Cody in equal measure, once this is all over. But one way or another, he will end this - he's getting closer and closer each day.
The frequencies are ultimately the final piece of the puzzle he's been biding his time for. The guard gets him access to the comms of a black market weapons dealer, who in turn puts him in touch with someone with tenuous connections to a local Rebellion cell. They pass him onto to another person, then another, then another, until finally, a meeting is planned with someone claiming to be an active member.
Set up remotely, of course. He understands their caution.
Cody spends an evening transferring everything he's memorised over the months to a datastick, stashing it away along with the little notebook and praying to anything that might listen that he'll be able to hold onto his consciousness when the time comes. CC-2224 has been receding, inch by inch, but the fear still remains. Every day is a 50/50 credit toss of which of them will be in control.
When the evening arrives, Cody excuses himself from a strategy meeting to some raised brows, but ultimately not as many questions as he was anticipating. He'll be back, he promises.
It's become shockingly easy for him to lie nowadays. In another lifetime, long, long ago, he'd considered it one of his greatest weaknesses.
Stealing away to a small, little-used office room, Cody slinks into a chair, accessing the console that sits at the desk. It's an older model, and it takes a few nerve-wracking moments to boot as he inserts the datastick, navigates to the scrambled frequency he'd been given earlier, and waits. This is the only place on the base that might work. Anywhere else, and he'd have eyes on him, or be in the path of an incoming patrol. If this fails…
Cody tries very hard not to think about the rapidly diminishing options that remain in front of him.
When the chat box pops up in the lower left corner of the screen, he nearly faints in relief. A message stands by patiently for his response, cursor flashing on the screen over the input.
You have intel.
Cody exhales slowly, lowering his fingers to the keyboard.
Yes.
Send it.
I will, he types quickly in response, shooting a furtive glance over his shoulder as the seconds tick by. His heart is beginning to feel like it might beat out of his chest. But on one condition.
The response is immediate.
Name it.
Cody swallows. Now or never.
Tell me how to remove the chip.
It's a calculated request. He knows he couldn't ask for their help in getting him out of here directly - that would be asking them to risk themselves for him, and they almost certainly would never agree. Besides, an unknown, unverified source within the Empire, asking for a rebellion agent to come and meet them? They'd never assume it was anything but an ambush.
Asking them for this, though, while still a risk on their end, is a much safer gambit. More likely to prove his legitimacy, while also getting him enough information to allow him to attempt his planned escape. He knows these chat logs will be uncovered and read, and it's more of a matter of 'when' than 'if' - but he plans to be half the Galaxy away from this kriffing place by then.
He holds his breath as time stretches on, eyes locked onto the typing bubble that appears and disappears in the small chat window.
And then a downloadable file comes through. Cody scrambles to copy it to his datastick, beginning the upload of his own intel in return. He watches anxiously as the progress bars tick up to completion, one by one, and tilts his head to the right so he can hear a fraction more effectively, tensing with every footfall that sounds from the hallway outside. Come on, come on… so close…
Eventually, it's done, and a soft ping from the console sounds in victory. He sighs in lightheaded relief, leaning in to see the newest message that's popped up.
Pleasure doing business with you.
He should leave now, back out before he has a chance to be discovered. He really should - no doubt they'll be sending out a search party for him at any moment - the other officers at the meeting have been getting suspicious of his excuses as of late. With a bead of sweat forming on his brow, Cody impulsively shoots out a hand to type as rapidly as he can, hoping he can reach the agent again before they can disconnect.
Wait-- tell me one more thing.
A small tick shows that the message sends successfully. They're still on the line.
Cody's fingers hover over the console, twitching as he debates whether he really wants to know.
Is CT-7567 alive?
There's a long pause on the other end.
I cannot confirm or deny the status of any of our operatives.
It's the response he was expecting. Cody sighs, running a hand through his hair - cropped far too short, nowadays. Obi-Wan would have playfully complained about not being able to adequately run his hands through it. He winces, brows pinching together painfully at the stab the thought sends through his heart.
If you see him, Cody bites his lip, debating whether to go through with sending a message that could so easily trace back to him. After a beat, he forces himself to type it out anyway, tell him 'vencuyanir, gedet'ye. Gar ori'vod ke'gyce bic.'
Another pause.
I cannot confirm or deny the status of any of our operatives.
Cody closes his eyes, huffing out a breath. It'll have to be enough.
Thank you.
With that, he pulls the plug on the datastick and the console, plunging the room into darkness. He shoves his bucket over his head, making his way out into the hallway and curls his trembling fingers into fists at his side.
He's nearly there, now. All he has to do is hold his nerve.
______________________________
He'd always fared better in temperate climates.
Cody pulls his cloak a little tighter around himself, keeping low in the treeline as he levels his rifle toward his target. It's nothing like Republic standard-issue from back in the day, moreso a collection of scraps messily welded together with the hopes of functionality, but it's enough to do the trick - at least when its user is as good a shot as he is, anyway.
He squeezes the trigger, watching with satisfaction as the last of his quarry falls with a silent thud.
Hunting Aekarean storkbills isn't exactly as noble a pursuit as saving the Galaxy, but they're pests to the local fields, and today's client is paying.
With a grunt of effort, Cody stands to stretch out his aching legs, slipping his comms device from his pocket to message the farmer that the job has been done. With any luck, she'll let him keep some of the meat, like she did last month. He's not hurting for the amount of food in his stores, but he gets uncomfortably close to it sometimes. Fresh food is always better than the rehydrated stuff, in any event.
He smiles to himself as he sees a new message from Rex, scratching absent-mindedly at his scruff of a beard (Force, he really needs to shave, he'll have to ask Jannesk for his straightrazor back when he next sees him), before he goes to open the notification.
Rex, local time 08:43: Yeah, that's understandable. Keep me updated, ori'vod.
Actually, on that front
Have you given any more thought to our offer?
His smile fades, worrying at his lip absent-mindedly.
Cody, local time 15:08: I don't think I can commit to it.
I just don't have that fight in me anymore, vod'ika.
Cody slings his rifle over his shoulder, stepping out of the brush to check the storkbill bodies he'd left in the clearing, though his mind remains firmly elsewhere. An unwanted flash of guilt moves through him before he shoves it away violently. He's done his part, and then some.
His comms chirp at him again from his hip.
Rex, local time 08:47: Right, and I'm sure being a gun for hire is a fulfilling career path.
Cody lets out a low growl of irritation and removes a small hunting knife from his pocket, notched and worn with use but still kept sharp, beginning the process of skinning the animal.
It's not that Rex is wrong, necessarily, it's more that it's just…
Complicated.
He'd gotten the damned chip out of his head over a year ago, now. The 'instructions' he'd received were an uploadable program for a med-droid, the exact step by step procedure for performing in-the-field brain surgery. It hadn't been a particularly encouraging discovery, but Cody had little choice but to go through with it.
He'd managed to drag one of the clankers away to a small storage cupboard, stuck the datastick in its memory port, and laid down in wait. Either the man possessing him would die here, or they both would.
In the end, it had all been almost insultingly easy. One single hour, and CC-2224 had been sealed away forever.
His constant headaches had stopped too, once the general ache of impromptu brain surgery wore off. No wonder neither his Jedi nor Helix could do a thing to fix them during the war, if the chip were the cause. Stars, but they were so close to working it out…
Cody's heart twists painfully in his chest whenever he catches a glimpse of white plastoid armour nowadays, wondering it it's a new recruit, or someone he once would have called his family. Knowing that all it would take is a sufficiently informed droid and a knock to the back of the head to bring them home makes it a particularly difficult decision to stay hidden.
But this was a lesson that he'd learned quickly, while on the run - trying to save them all is a fool's errand, and would be the fastest way to get himself killed in the process.
When he'd chartered the ship and fled under the cover of night, Cody held onto what remained of the chip - that ugly, twisted thorn of a parasite, embedded deep inside of him for so long - and brought it with him here. He's still not entirely sure why, but he keeps it inside his pocket most days. A reminder of everything he's lost. Everything he still has to atone for.
The people in the village he's been laying low in for the past few months are good, simple-living folk. They need someone who can hunt, someone who can do the physical work for them for the little credits they have to offer. They need someone who can tell them exactly where and how to hide when the ships arrive, and the shining white armour and Imperial sigils cast a shadow across their rolling fields. Cody does -- has been doing, ever since he arrived here -- all he can.
But maybe that's just his excuse to avoid facing himself.
A displeased huff escapes Cody's lips. He's done an odd-job or two for the Rebels when problems have arisen nearby, but never more than that. He tries to live with himself, when he chooses to stay out here despite knowing he could be doing more, but Rex doesn't seem to understand why he can't join up properly.
No, he's not exactly a pacifist still, but what kind of serious soldier shakes violently every time he stares down the barrel at a Sentient target?
His comms ping again.
Rex, local time 08:55: Sorry, that was shitty of me.
Cody, local time 15:20: It's fine.
Rex, local time 08:55: It's not.
But Codes, if you ever do change your mind
Offer's always open.
Boss sent through a one-off tip he really wanted me to pass on. You don't have to look at it, but he was pretty insistent you were the one for the job. Encryption's linked to your access codes, so I haven't been able to take a look, but he was positive you'd want to see it.
[Received: 1 attachment]
Gotta go, but speak soon, yeah? Stay safe out there.
Cody, local time 15:23: You too, Rex'ika.
By the time Cody returns home, darkness is already pressing itself insistently against his windows, the sound of chirping insects bubbling up in all directions outside of the little hut he's started to call home.
Dyitri had been having some issues with the heat in her stovetop, so he'd stopped in on the way back to see if he could fix that for her. Her eyesight's been getting worse lately, Cody would have been remiss not to offer. After leaving there, Mela and Wyn had wanted to talk his ear off about school, of course - they always do, and then Jannesk had just managed to catch him after that to ask him for help with carrying a palette of ingredients into the bakery-- and, oh, Cody had forgotten to ask about the razor, again.
He slumps heavily at the edge of his bed, and presses the heel of his hand against his eyelids hard enough to see sparks flicker behind them.
Will it ever feel like he's doing enough?
The notebook sits open next to him on the rumpled sheets, reminding him that he'd only gotten halfway through his remembrances this morning before he'd needed to rush out. He eyes the pages guiltily for a moment. Who is he to put his own needs above his brother's names, when he's the reason they're gone?
With a groan, he drags the book to his lap and begins to quietly and reverently mumble the names aloud, as he has done every single day for the past few months.
No. It won't.
When it's over, he stumbles over to his sink, splashing his face with water and taking in the haggard man that greets him in the mirror, premature greys littering his grown-out curls and stubble. He's bodily in his late 30's now, if he remembers correctly - maybe early 40's? He stopped keeping count a while ago, though he knows he looks much older.
Returning to his bed, Cody collapses atop the sheets just as he always does, and dreams of armour that shines a sickening white, his own face reflected back in its surface, set in a cruel sneer as flames lick at the edges of everything good and just in the Galaxy.
In the morning, he stands in his small kitchenette with a jogan fruit in one hand and his comm-link in the other, staring down at the display with a frown as he debates what he should do.
On the one hand, he knows they want him to join the Rebellion as a full time operative, and accepting this assignment would only worsen their determination to hound him about it. He can't handle that, even though the knowledge of it shames him to admit. He's a veteran, wounded and haunted by the time his body spent committing atrocities that he can't untangle himself from. The thought of being on the frontlines again sends panic racing through his blood, and makes his limbs tremble pathetically. A scowl flits over his features as he thinks of the man he's become.
On the other… one last job can't hurt, can it? Bail hasn't sent him anything so far that he couldn't handle, and he has to begrudgingly admit that his curiosity is stoked by the fact that Rex had said it was an assignment keyed only to him.
He's nothing particularly special anymore, softened around the edges and no longer at his peak, physically or mentally. But the Senator wouldn't have sent it along if he didn't have a reason. One last tip to follow up on… it was the same thing he'd said to himself last time, wasn't it? He'd be lying if he said the idea wouldn't ease some of the guilt weighing on his conscience.
Cody takes a bite of the fruit, sighing as he runs the calculations. Almost certain he'll end up regretting this, he reluctantly clicks to open the attachment, figuring that he may as well at least read the briefing. He can always decide to say no, anyway.
Outside, a flock of birds take flight, startled by the choked shout that emnates from the small, lone hut on the edge of the woods.
______________________________
The first lungful of air he takes in planetside is dry and dusty, and Cody faintly wonders if he might throw up for the third time in the last rotation. The sick feeling roiling around in his gut certainly hasn't abated any.
He'd said his goodbyes to those he'd crossed paths with on the way out, and chartered the first ship he could find, rushing from transport to transport with a feverish determination. The message from Bail was cryptic and vague, the set of coordinates leading to the last possible place he'd have thought was likely - but the meaning, the suggestion, of it was unmistakable. Cody wraps his cloak securely around himself, raising the hood, and tries to quell the tremulous beating of his heart.
He doesn't know if the intel is good, or if he's walking straight into an ambush. The latter would make more sense. By all rights, he should be staying far, far away - but the second he'd read it, he knew he had no choice but to find out.
Cody checks in with his contact, a local barman at the spaceport he'd docked in, and they give him a name, wrinkling their brow as they do so. They try to warn him away, telling him he's unlikely to come out of this alive, and Cody simply tips them a credit without a word.
A salesman at the edge of town lends him a rental speeder for triple the going rate, and Cody winces at the cost before accepting - of all the things he has time for today, haggling is definitively not one of them. Twisting his wrist to give a kick to the engine, he sets off across the dunes at a dizzying speed. He only stops once to down half of his waterskin, not wanting to risk being sighted by raiders while stationary. He only hopes he can arrive to his destination before sundown.
Just in time, it comes into view just as the sky begins to streak with rich oranges and purples, the atmosphere nearing dreamlike as night encroaches slowly. And there it is - the small hut he'd been told to steer clear of. Small, simple, barely standing out at all. No more distinctive against the harsh surrounding landscape than a boulder.
It's hard to believe that this could be it.
He should turn around, he thinks, as he dismounts his speeder with blood pounding wildly in his ears. Even if Bail was right - even if this isn't an ambush, he won't be welcome here.
But reason cannot stop the dogged drag of his feet ever onward, carrying him toward the entryway which darkens with every step closer.
It's almost laughable to imagine he might knock. As if he were a normal visitor. As if this isn't an utterly insane thing to be even consider doing, given the circumstances. He doesn't even know what his plan is, once he's there.
Beg for forgiveness? Hand him his blaster and tell him to take his revenge? Cody feels a hysterical laugh tries to claw its way up and out of his throat as the sand stings at his eyelashes, but he forces it down. All he knows is that he has to see. Has to verify this rumour for himself.
The second his foot meets the threshold and his fist raises hesitantly, the door creaks open.
A ghost stands behind it, backlit by the warm glow of the light inside.
Obi-Wan Kenobi.
Cody chokes on his own breath.
His once-lover stands with a furrow set deeply at his brow, over a half-open door which conceals his lower body, and the blaster likely hidden in the hand Cody can't see. He lets out a grunt of acknowledgement as he takes in Cody's cloaked frame, something about him making the other man tense up further. His eyes narrow, filled with suspicion.
"Who are you?" he asks. Cody feels tears spring to his eyes, unbidden. Hearing his voice, his voice, even rough and unsteady as it is, has him fighting back a gasp. He's real. This is real. Thousands of iterations of him in Cody's mind, blaster hole burning through his chest and eyes wide, glassy and unseeing, dissipate in unison.
He's not dead. He's not dead.
To not recognise Cody now… he truly must have closed himself off to the Force, then. Either that or Cody has changed so far beyond recognition that his energy is tantamount to that of a stranger. The thought of either option makes his heart twist nauseatingly, regret and pain in equal measure crawling under his skin in a terrible itch.
"A friend," Cody answers, voice cracking on the word. It feels like a lie, after everything.
The dead man grunts, shifting the door further closed. "Not got too many of those anymore. Whatever it is, I'm not--"
This can't be it. In a moment of sheer panic, Cody reaches up to pull back his hood.
Obi-Wan freezes in place.
The sunset paints them both in a tableau of awestruck grief - both of them a lover, endlessly haunted by the face of the ghost in front of them. For a very long moment, all either of them can do is stare.
Cody is the first to break.
"I'm sorry," he chokes, the words spilling out of him in a sudden gasp, broken and desperate as the spell shatters like glass. The shards bloody and bruise them both in equal measure. "I-- oh, Gods, I'm sorry. I--"
"Cody."
He doesn't register that his knees have buckled until he makes contact with the ground, and Obi-Wan follows not long after, trembling hands fisting in his robes, both unable to quite believe that this is real. He should hate him. Should be staring at him with hate, revulsion-- fear. He killed him, didn't he? Or he had tried to, at least. Cody's eyes blur.
"I didn't-- I couldn't control-- I shot--"
He's blubbering now, each breath a loud, shuddering inhale, and Obi-Wan's warm hands cup his face, the ends of his fingertips wracked with violent tremors.
"Darling," he whispers hoarsely. "Cody, you're here."
"Ni ceta, ni ceta, cyar'ika, ni ce--"
Calloused fingers card through his hair in the same way they always used to, an entire lifetime ago. Cody's throat closes up as he stares, wordlessly, at the man he loves, the man he killed, as his beloved gazes back at him with awe and reverence he has done nothing to deserve.
"Cody, it's alright, now."
It's not. He feels like he's suffocating.
"Darling, you made it to me."
The dizziness worsens his shortness of breath. Obi-Wan is radiant and beautiful and an angel made flesh and Cody hopes that he rips his heart from his chest as an act of divine punishment. He'd offer it up to him, if only he could. It's the least he deserves. His General - his stoic, unflappable General - is crying now, too, blue eyes shining like jewels in this barren, wretched place.
"You made it home."
Cody's lungs burn. He's not sure how he makes it up and through the door, but he does, and then Obi-Wan is there, and Obi-Wan is in his arms, and Cody can't catch his breath through his sobbing.
The man he loves catches him as the room abruptly dims and tilts, and guides him carefully down.
If he never gets back up again, Cody thinks he'd be okay with that. He's home.
______________________________
He wakes, as he has many, many mornings before now, to the smell of brewing tea.
For a single, blissful moment, Cody is a younger man back on The Negotiator, on a rare and blissful free day between missions, smiling and stretching out with a yawn as his partner hums to himself over two steaming mugs at the counter. For just a few, precious hours, there is nothing to worry about beyond these walls. He is safe. They are safe.
And then reality comes crashing in.
Cody sits bolt upright, feeling a thin fabric pool around his midsection as he does. He glances down in confusion, blinking as he sees himself tucked into a number of cotton sheets, unfamiliar to him. It takes him another moment to process that he's apparently in a bed. His sand-covered cloak has been taken from him, leaving him only in his rather tattered travelling gear.
He glances around, taking in his surroundings as his heart leaps to his throat. The room he's in is sparse, save for a plant with long, drooping tendrils resting at the windowsill.
It all comes back to him slowly, over the next minute. The reason why he's here. The truth he'd uncovered. Cody isn't entirely sure whether this has all been an elaborate dream.
Soft footfalls sound from an adjacent room have him snapping his head around to the doorway, and then he's there.
Obi-Wan.
Force, but the years have aged him. His hair and beard are a shade darker now, peppered with various patches of grey. His hair is longer than it ever was when Cody fought beside him, unkempt and pushed back in a way that highlights the new, deep lines that mark his face, left there by years of grief and hardship.
Mesh'la.
The other man steps through, a little gingerly, mug in hand. He stops by the side of the bed, and hands out the cup towards Cody without words, eyes searching his own intently.
Cody takes it from him, and for just a moment, their fingers brush. He swallows thickly, longing to press his lips to them, to close the distance and hold him to confirm that this is really happening. But he can't. Not yet. He takes one, slow sip, and instantly recognises the blend as jeroroot. It was always Obi-Wan's go to when Cody was feeling unwell. The feeling of homesickness rises within him like a tide, threatening to sweep him away.
"I…" Cody starts, placing the mug carefully atop the beside table. His eyes turn to his lap, fidgeting uncomfortably. "Obi-Wan." How long will it be until he can stand to say his name without his voice breaking? "What I was trying to say, earlier… before we talk about anything else, you have to know…"
"Cody." A gentle hand on his chin, encouraging his gaze upwards. The display of familiar tenderness rends him in two. "It's alright. I know about the control chips."
"You--" Cody blinks, his mind stalling. He stares up at him, searching, hoping. "You do?"
Obi-Wan nods.
"How long…?"
"Have I known the specifics? Maybe a year."
A year.
The knowledge settles heavily in Cody's stomach, both a blessing and a curse.
The fact that he knows at all now is a mercy, but the fact that he'd gone so long, thinking he'd been betrayed…? Cody's eyes squeeze shut painfully.
The Jedi-- former Jedi, he supposes, sighs softly.
He covers Cody's hand with his own, bringing it toward himself gently to press his palm against his collar. He feels a thick cord of string under his palm, and Obi-Wan hums in encouragement as Cody deciphers what he's asking, slowly closing his fingers over it, and gently tugging the end free with a question in his gaze.
A small lump passes up Obi-Wan's robes as he pulls, starting near his heart and finally slipping free of his collar. Still wrapped around Obi-Wan's neck, Cody finds himself holding a cord from which hangs a familiar pendant. A long, palm-sized crystal, shining an azure blue. He freezes in his tracks.
Tentatively, Cody reaches out for the sacred object, turning it over in his palm with reverence as a lump forms in his throat. A small hole has been drilled into it to allow the string to be looped through, a little lopsided - but it's unmistakeably the very same.
"After all this time?" he breathes, voice thick with emotion.
Obi-Wan's eyes sparkle. "My first month here, I had it altered," he confesses in a murmur. "It has never been apart from me. Not for a moment."
Cody shakes his head in disbelief, unable to understand. "But… but you thought--"
"Love, no. On that day, I sensed…" he closes his eyes and lets out a shaky breath. "Well, I… wasn't sure what I sensed, at first. But I knew that whatever it was, it wasn't you. Any of you."
It's only by a hair's width of a margin that Cody avoids bursting into tears. He brings the pendant's stone to his lips, brushing them gently over the surface. Meeting Obi-Wan's gaze again is all it takes.
The Jedi closes the distance, and the dam finally bursts.
Cody sobs as their lips finally meet after so very long apart - clumsy and rushed, but nothing short of right. Fervent hands clutch at each other's clothes, pulling each other impossibly close, and Cody draws backwards for breath just as Obi-Wan surges forwards to chase him, sending them both tumbling down to the bed in an awkward tangle of limbs.
They both laugh, tearful and, for the first time in years, something close to free.
"I missed you," Cody chokes out, hot tears spilling down his cheeks with no way for him to stop them now.
"I missed you, too," Obi-Wan replies, utterly wrecked, dragging Cody closer and burying his face into his neck to weep.
Neither move from their positions, pressed close and whispering soft, sweet words of affection to one another, until the suns are high in the sky the following day, and the growling of Cody's stomach sends Obi-Wan, chuckling, to the kitchen. Cody, unable to stand being without him for a minute more, follows close behind.
Obi-Wan marries him in the spring.
It's a remarkably simple affair, just the two of them and their officiant (well, a trusted friend of Obi-Wan's from the nearby village, but they never needed anything 'official', anyway), taking place in the hut's small, enclosed garden. Every pot and planter is filled with saplings, with no real thought or plan to their layout - though he's tried his best to make it beautiful for the wedding. Cody is proud of what he's achieved, considering the years of Obi-Wan's neglect of the garden.
They dress simply, just in their day-to-day clothes, except for a diadem of copper that Cody had carefully fashioned for Obi-Wan from scraps and presented to him in the morning to many tears. It's nothing special, and certainly less than he deserves, but in the moment of saying their vows, Cody thinks quietly that his lover has never been more beautiful. It might have been the Galaxy's longest-standing engagement, but it was absolutely worth the wait.
The bond returns to them as night falls on their wedding day - a soft 'click' into place that feels like a euphoric homecoming. For the first time since the Order was called, Cody begins to think of himself as whole again.
The garden has become his project, for reasons he can't quite remember now. Obi-Wan helps where he can, but only ever under Cody's watchful eye - for some reason, the schedule and structure of caring for the plants just makes sense to him. He's not particularly adept at making tinctures, he's found, but he sells to those who are - a Togrutan woman down at the markets, mostly. She trades generously for his efforts, and when she smiles just-so, her markings almost look like Ahsoka's. Obi-Wan never speaks of it, but Cody knows that he sees it too. He starts to make a habit of bringing the sweetest of the berries he grows to give to the young daughter she always has at her hip, during his trade visits. Her bright, toothy grin always makes Cody feel like he's doing something right.
They'd never discussed the prospect that Cody would do anything but stay, and by the time it occurs to him that he probably should have asked before moving in, an entire year has nearly passed them by.
He blurts the thought aloud over breakfast, and Obi-Wan barks out a startled laugh that reminds him of when they were both much younger.
At least he knows his partner would never have wanted him anywhere but here. The smiling crinkles at the edges of Obi-Wan's eyes are a sight he's blessed with more and more often as the days pass - it's a hard thing, in the wake of everything, to say that he might be happy, but Cody knows that deep within his soul, he's starting to become content.
Their past, of course, haunts them both, but no one could understand better than each other. They offer comfort in the wake of their nightmares, hold one another until the shaking stops, whispering quiet words of peace until they can once again fall asleep.
It's enough.
On the anniversary of the day they reunited, Obi-Wan bashfully presents Cody with an easel, and a set of thick, womp-fur brushes. He sheepishly picks at the edges of his sleeves, saying that the equipment isn't nearly the quality he deserves, and that if they'd had the money he'd have imported some from a neighbouring system, but Cody silences his concerns to kiss him senseless, utterly delighted. As far as he's concerned, it's perfect.
Over the course of the next year, he starts growing new plants in their now well-cultivated garden, ones that he can use to create new and different shades of paints. When Obi-Wan returns from his days out at work, he often cajoles him into sitting as his subject. His husband complains every time, but Cody knows he's more than happy to oblige.
His first major project is a mural, spanning the southern wall of the building, nestled amidst the flourishing leaves. He paints the two of them at the centre, surrounded by colour. Light. It's intimidating, the pressure of approaching something so big, both in significance and literal size, but when he finally finishes the piece - the final touch being a small white dot for the twinkle in Obi-Wan's eye - Cody feels his heart swell with pride.
Their second winter rolls around - or what passes as Winter on Tatooine, anyway: harsh winds and storms of sand - and Cody buries the remains of his chip in the garden. It feels right, in a way, to honour it. A part of his creation, a part of his past that he vows to never forget. The notebook of remembrances finds its place too, in a small plot by its side. It's the closest his brothers will ever get to a real burial, and Obi-Wan holds him close as Cody cries, and finally, finally decides to forgive himself.
And so, the years pass.
They watch Luke grow from afar, quietly leaving presents nearby the farm, which they know Beru will find to take inside for him. She never acknowledges it, but she always smiles just a bit more the next time they cross paths. Obi-Wan is desperate to offer the boy training, frustrated that as the years pass, the couple seem more and more resistant to the idea, but Cody places a gentle hand on his arm and reminds him that such things cannot be forced.
He's grateful that his presence seems to soothe and comfort his lover, just as it always used to.
They quietly hold celebrations for each and every cycle that they get to spend by each other's side. The mural is added to, year by year, to honour those they've loved, those they've lost. Rex is first - alive, thankfully, though destined to be half the Galaxy apart for the rest of time - then Waxer, Boil, Master Jinn, following Obi-Wan's description of the man. Countless others come to follow. Cody has to take frequent breaks while working on Ahsoka, the youthfulness he wants to capture in her visage knifing through him every time he sees it.
Cody ages at double the pace that Obi-Wan does, but it was something they'd both been prepared for from the start. All of their time spent together has been hard-won, and to spend it lamenting what isn't perfect now, would to be ungrateful.
The twin suns rise, and the twin suns set, innumerable rotations over the home they've carved out for themselves in the midst of this unforgiving planet. They share laughter, tears, partnership. In the end, it would be an impossible task to disentangle their souls from one another.
The third, and final, time Cody dies, it is peaceful.
Sunlight spills through the open window, surprisingly gentle for a morning in Tatooine spring. Obi-Wan holds his hand, tracing slow, soothing patterns over his knuckles as Cody lays back in their bed, trying to organise his thoughts well enough to make his final words worth something.
"Don't forget that the pine fern trees need to be watered every noon."
The apple of Obi-Wan's throat bobs as he swallows, a watery smile tugging at the corners of his lips. He squeezes Cody's hand.
"I know, love."
"You always say that you know," Cody protests, "but you forget. The goldenlight moss should--"
"Should be replanted in two week's time, and relocated to the southern corner," Obi-Wan interrupts softly, leaning down to press a kiss to his cheek. "I know."
Silence spreads through the room as Cody tries his best to think through the fog that has been slowly creeping over his thoughts. He tries to reach for the bond, but finds he doesn't need to search far. His husband's presence is already surrounding him, blanketing him in a peaceful sense of calm.
"It's g'nna be alright," he murmurs, feeling for all the world like he wants to sleep, his eyelids drooping without his permission.
"More than alright. In fact, I will endeavour to keep the garden beautiful for you, my dearest."
Obi-Wan's quips land markedly better when he doesn't sound like he's choking back tears. Cody somehow manages a half-hearted swat with his free hand, and his lover chuckles shakily.
"Not th' garden," Cody manages. "Not what I meant. You. You're gonna… gonna be…"
"I know," his husband replies again, though it doesn't sound like he believes it. "Cody, I…"
Cody blinks hard, forcing his eyes to stay open. Obi-Wan's eyes shine, and he smiles, reaching out to cup his cheek. "It has been my life's greatest honour, to know you and to love you. Despite everything that's happened, I would not have changed this. Not for anything."
He wants to reach up, wants to return the gesture, but Cody's arms have started to feel remarkably heavy. He nods in acknowledgement, tongue too thick and clumsy to form anything eloquent in response.
He knows he can at least manage three more words, though.
"I love you," he whispers.
Obi-Wan ducks his head, and kisses him for the final time. Lingering, tender. The movement is hard to keep up with, and Cody feels awfully lightheaded - too much to keep up with him for long. When their lips break apart, Obi-Wan gently encourages him into a keldabe. Cody feels a warm wetness splash against his cheek, though he barely is able to register it.
"I love you, too," his beloved Jedi whispers. "More than I could ever say."
Cody smiles, and gives himself over to the Force for the last time.
It welcomes him with open arms - not quite the prodigal child his husband is, but a beloved convert nonetheless. Small explosions of light, fireworks of every colour and size crackle in the infinite space around him as he is enveloped, cherished, loved.
Cody feels it right the way through his non-existent body, the sensations gently tugging him away, away from himself until all he can comprehend is a wholeness that eclipses every life in the Galaxy.
He sees Tatooine. Coruscant. The Empire. All of it, and the space between too.
And he knows, somehow, that it'll all be alright.
Luke is important, he learns, Luke is the key to everything. Obi-Wan is to guide him to where he needs to be to reassert the balance, and Cody has been instrumental through it all to keep his husband on that path.
You can rest, he is told. A familiar voice that he'd spoken to once before moves through his being, echoing outwards like a ripple. Dear, dear Cody, you did so well. You can rest, now.
Cody exhales, and the stars drift by around him. Time stretches immeasurably, linearity losing its sense of self.
"I want to be by his side," he whispers aloud, to the nothingness of it all. "Please. If I could choose."
There's a pause, a moment of contemplation as the idea is turned over.
To ensure he is not lost?
"Yes."
A thoughtful hum reverberates through all that is, and all this is not. It is, at once, a new mother's lullaby and a dying soldier's death rattle.
You don't wish to sleep? You are awfully tired.
"Not without him," Cody replies without hesitation, thinking of everything that is yet to come. His lover still has many trials ahead - too many to face alone. The all-encompassing Force thrums with the truth of it. "Just a little longer, please."
Such nobility, the voice tells him, in the soft, affectionate tone of a parent. It is not a tone he ever knew in life, yet it comforts him still. Very well. You have earned this much.
The light that envelops him then is as blinding as pure, concentrated sunlight. Cody senses the way his consciousness is pieced together, back towards something resembling coherence as he is gently delivered once again into the known Galaxy, back towards the Outer Rim, to Tatooine… to that little, familiar hut, just a short walk from Mos Eisley.
When he returns to Obi-Wan's side, he's busy tending to the pine fern trees, nearby to a newly-added cairn of pebbles, carefully arranged near some freshly turned ground. His beloved's hand is a little lopsided as he prunes, so Cody reaches out to guide his angle in minute adjustments, until he's satisfied the job is being done correctly.
For many years after that, Cody simply is.
He is the warm breeze that ruffles his husband's hair, setting it into place just so; the whisper of a rumour carried on the wind that'll help keep him safe; the shadow that conceals him when he's making late night risky trips home near an Empire checkpoint.
He is all of this, and he is content. He knows this is his purpose, at least for the moment - to be his General's Commander one final time, until both of their parts have been played to completion.
It is a role he knows intimately.
Obi-Wan talks to him, sometimes. Mostly when tending to their garden or walking alone through the bustling Mos Eisley streets. It helps with the reputation, of course - crazy old Ben, always monologuing to himself with a faraway expression on his face. Cody listens, he always listens, even though he suspects that Obi-Wan is merely doing it to keep himself sane, rather than truly expecting himself to be heard. He has a habit of commenting aloud his predictions of how Cody would respond to the things he does and says, but only gets it right about half of the time.
The version of Cody he has in his head is much more gentle than he ever remembers being in life.
On the morning of the final day before the curtain call, Cody brushes a hand over his lover's robe, smoothing the collar down and pressing a lingering kiss to his forehead.
Obi-Wan smiles. Cody wonders if he can feel his presence.
It's clear he understands, regardless, what must be done. Luke has come on leaps and bounds since the start of his training - he's a remarkable student, and he is ready for what comes next. Obi-Wan is, too, despite his lingering worries for the boy. But if there's one thing old Master Kenobi knows better than anything else, it's the art of letting go. Cody knows that he'll be alright.
There's been more of a twinkle in Obi-Wan's eye in the past few weeks, an optimism that he'd been lacking, prior. Cody knows why. He'd been by his side as his lover stopped by the mural this morning, and had whispered reverently, as he reached out to brush his fingertips over the painted cheek of Cody's self-portrait. He's coming home, soon.
Very soon, in fact. He'd delivered a letter this morning, quietly slipping into Mos Eisley before daybreak and posting it through the door belonging their Togruta friend from the markets. She's been getting on in her years, and her daughter, now all grown up, is pregnant. Twins, Obi-Wan had murmured to himself with a chuckle, though she doesn't know it herself yet. They'll be in need of a home with more space, and as of tonight, their own will be going empty. Cody agrees with his husband's decision wholeheartedly - there are no better people in the Galaxy he'd rather leave it to.
Cody watches as Obi-Wan exhales a slow breath, pressing a gentle kiss to the shining blue stone attached to his necklace, before tucking it gently and securely under his clothes.
"I suppose this will be it, won't it?" he asks to the air.
"You've done perfectly," Cody responds in a whisper, although he knows that he won't be able to hear.
The Jedi hums, passing a hand over his beard - now entirely grey, after all of this time. Cody's glad he got to see the change happen, piece by piece. What a privilege it has been. One of his greatest honours.
"I suppose if you were here physically, darling, you'd tell me to stop stalling and get on with it." His lips curl upwards in that dryly amused way of his, tipping his head back to the ceiling and closing his eyes.
Cody snorts. "Nothing quite so direct, love."
"No, I suppose you'd be more diplomatic, wouldn't you."
Cody watches him fondly for a long moment as he checks the lightsaber at his hip, before turning his gaze to the viewport of the ship the smuggler had allowed them access to. It's certainly no Negotiator, but then again not much could compare.
"He'll be alright, won't he?" Obi-Wan murmurs, his expression turning contemplative, brows knitting together for just a beat.
"Luke or Anakin?" Cody asks.
His lover doesn't answer.
When the fight happens, just as it was always going to, Cody can't take his eyes off of him. His clever, beautiful, wonderful Jedi. When others would falter, he always burned the brightest - saber aloft and a spark of defiance in those eyes that he could spend a thousand lifetimes getting lost in.
Today, though, it's not the same. Where Obi-Wan in combat is usually a fire, burning in deadly ferocity and yet nonetheless tightly controlled, today he is a river. Calm, flowing, trusting.
The Sith that had stolen Anakin steps forwards, red saber crackling as he faces down his former Master. He swings the weapon, kyber crying out, in a wide arc, and Obi-Wan's beard twitches in the hint of a rueful smile.
And just like that, it's over.
A neat pile of robes, the hilt of his lightsaber, and a tiny, glinting, azure blue crystal nestled atop them all as Vader panics, searching around desperately as he tries to figure out what it is that just happened.
Cody glows with pride. His husband always did have a flair for the dramatic.
"Cody…?"
In a flash, the scene changes around him. Cody suddenly finds himself stood in their garden - the way it was that first spring, all saplings and no real plan to it, the smell of wet paint wafting through the air. He glances down, noticing that he's in his apron, covered in various splashes of colour. He's stood next to the mural, lowering his paintbrush from adding that final twinkle to Obi-Wan's eye, and Obi-Wan--
He turns to see Obi-Wan standing a few paces away from him, eyes wide in shock.
In a blink, his form shifts, rapidly shifting backwards through the years until he's back to his coppery locks, flushed skin, back to his Obi-Wan and--
Cody laughs.
They meet in the middle, both surging forwards in a rush of euphoria. They are the Force, in all of it's Light, and a shine emnates from every connection point between them as their lips crash together, arms encircling one another like they've longed to for years.
"Hello, cyare," is all he can manage when they pull apart to look at one another, eyes shining with so much affection he imagines he might burst with it.
Obi-Wan sniffles, pushing Cody's errant curls away from his forehead. The air around them sings harmoniously, two halves of a whole reunited for good.
"Oh, my love. How I've missed you."
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A/N: This fic has spanned 2024 to 2026, and in that time I've gotten married, moved to a different country, and completely changed career paths. To say I feel a little bit mournful about its ending would be an understatement - and yet I'm also very proud of this project, and I think (I hope!) I've ended it on a worthy note.
Thank you so so much to everyone who's read, liked, and especially to those of you who have reblogged and commented. Truly it means so much more than I can say.
I hope 2026 is kind and peaceful for all of you. Flowers & Cannons has meant a lot to me as a constant in a wildly up-and-down few years, filled with lots of emotional moments from all kinds of directions. This might be putting too much importance on my silly little writings, but I hope it might have been a comfort to some of you in the same way it has for me. If you want to connect with me, my DMs and askbox are always open. Always happy to be reached out to <3
So much love to you all!
Taglist (let me know if you'd like to be added!): @mitth-eli-vanto
and when all the flowers are rotten and all the cannons shot
Chapter 16
Pairings: Codywan
Tags/Warnings: (MAJOR SPOILERS FOR THIS CHAPTER) heavy angst, no comfort
Description:
The truth of the matter burrows deep into Cody’s skin, nestled tightly amongst the other secrets he harbours that are too shameful to ever speak aloud.
He digs his fingers into his temples, breathing in heavy lungfuls of the steam-drenched air as if it might reverse the realisation that now weighs upon his heart like lead.
This is no longer just some passing infatuation.
He’s in love with Obi-Wan Kenobi.
(or: an account of the relationship between one Marshal Commander and his General from in the midst of a war.)
Thank you so very very much to @dreamsoft-mog for beta'ing this chapter on such short notice - love you loads, I owe you so much <3
I would highly recommend listening to the song this fic is titled after, Elsa's Song by The Amazing Devil, as an accompaniment to this chapter.
Trust me. YouTube link here.
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Cody has grown to be a man who loves and cherishes his downtime, when he's lucky enough to get it.
It was only about a year ago when he had been gently informed by Obi-Wan that it was quite possibly the one thing he was actively bad at - always chasing fires to put out, or restlessly glancing at his datapad from across the room whenever he'd been cajoled into joining a holofilm night with the rest of Ghost Company.
Relaxing, to put it simply, wasn't in his wheelhouse.
He'd put in the effort to change that, once he and Obi-Wan had become he and Obi-Wan. It hadn't been easy - in fact, Cody still considers it one of the most difficult lessons he's ever gotten to grips with since leaving Kamino - but his lover has always been nothing if not patient. With time, Cody has come to appreciate the art of meditation just a little more, and he even enjoys the rare late morning lie-in… though, admittedly, having someone warm to curl into definitely helps.
If Cody thought he wouldn't entirely kark it up, he'd write poetry about the way his Jedi looks when bathed in the half-light of the morning sun, his freckles illuminated and his hair alight in a soft, coppery glow. As it is, he supposes he can settle for just telling him in his own clumsy words. Words which always seems to be enough for Obi-Wan, anyhow.
He always seems to be enough. It's a strange, unending sort of miracle which makes it terribly difficult for Cody to be anything other than... warm. Bright in a way which has swiftly been shifting from novel to familiar with each morning that he wakes beside this man. A smile crosses his face as he tries to calm the fluttering of his heart. He hadn't planned for this morning to go quite like it had, but he's far from one to complain.
Obi-Wan, his fiancé. Obi-Wan, who he's going to get to marry once the war ends. Obi-Wan, who he'll have a real future with, away from the violence and trappings of this war.
He feels his heart swell with a warmth he'd have once thought biologically impossible for someone like him. Stars above, today is a good day - and to top it all off, they actually might have a chance to put down the Separatists, here and now.
Even the weather seems to be reveling in his good fortune.
The sun kisses the top of his helmet as he marches ahead, leading his squadron towards their first objective point.
With great effort, Cody turns all of his thoughts toward the present - calm, controlled, and collected. They'll need to hold their nerve today, despite the ever-mounting stakes. Cody can feel the lingering buzz of excitement in the air, an electric current that has the men practically vibrating as they progress through the field. He's still suspicious of the notion that this could actually be it, but there's no doubt that they'll be able to strike a devastating blow against Separatist leadership here today, regardless of if Grievous makes it out alive.
Cody feels a swell of pride in his chest as he thinks of his men, of how far they've come to be here, fighting alongside him now.
When the stories sing of the Separatist loss in the Galactic Civil War, let them tell tale of the 212th and their part to play in cutting the head off the snake. His true name might mean glory, but Cody isn't one to chase that honour for himself. He'd have all of their names immortalised if he could, every single one.
With any luck, he'll live to see that wish through to the end, now that he's inexplicably survived to what might be the final throes of the war - if they're very good, and if they're very lucky.
And with all the miracles in the past year, Cody can't help but wonder if one more might be found by the end of this glorious morning on Utapau.
______________________________
The moment Cody hears the news, he wonders if his knees might give out in pure, dazed relief. All things considered, it's a wonder that he remains standing.
Oh, his wonderful, brilliant Jedi.
"Copy that," he breathes into the comms at his wrist, trying not to let his tone shake with his sheer giddiness. "We'll await his return at the rendezvous."
Cody glances around at his men, who have all practically frozen in the wake of what they've just heard. They're all still wearing their helmets, but he imagines they must be all wearing similar expressions. Shock. Awe. Elation.
Grievous is dead, and the war is over.
At least, that's now the case for most of the Galaxy. For the ever-turning cogs in the machine of battle, there will be cleanup operations to run, relief missions for previously occupied settlements, and, of course, mountains upon mountains of paperwork to complete--
But Cody allows himself this one, single moment to just take it all in.
Obi-Wan had faced Grievous, alone, and survived. Not only survived, but outright won.
They're going to have the future they wished they could promise to one another. The list of dead to mourn will steadily decrease - Force, the idea that the rest of his brothers might be able to choose their own lives from now on is enough to make his throat constrict and his eyes burn - and all of the Vode will get the chance to live in a Galaxy at peace, a luxury none of them have ever known.
The implications of it all are dizzying.
In an instant, Cody's entire world has tilted on its axis. He lets out a slow breath in the hopes that it'll ground him, taking stock of the field as his men begin to pick off the steadily retreating clankers with renewed energy, an uproar of cheers and battle cries filling his ears.
His hand steadies on his rifle, and a wild grin blooms across his features entirely without his say so. For a few, precious seconds, the Marshal Commander allows himself to loosen his grip on his tightly held reins of control.
A shout of pure exhilaration leaves his lungs as they advance on the remaining ranks of droids, the taste of freedom sweet on his tongue. The fight concludes in a blur as they mow down the last of the nearby enemy ranks - perhaps in a slightly less tight formation than Cody would usually prefer, but today, he can't bring himself to care. They're not overextending their push, not risking any more of their numbers than necessary, and that's good enough for him.
It's not much later when Obi-Wan returns for a brief victory lap, his expression radiant, as Cody hands over his lightsaber from an earlier drop, the Kyber humming in thanks as it always does. They share a smile, and waste no time in pressing close through the Force, where the extent of their affection bleeds into their sheer relief, culminating in a heady mix of warmth-love-comfort. Cody slips off his helmet, using the pretense of stepping closer to adjust Boga's harness to speak softly.
"Impressive display, General," he murmurs. I love you more than I ever thought possible, he thinks, and Obi-Wan's eyes twinkle with a knowing fondness. He leans in, as much as his position on the saddle will allow, and offers a conspiratorial raise of his brow.
"How about we share that bottle of Alderaanian whiskey I've been saving, once we return to the ship?"
Cody has never heard a more tempting offer that he knows he'll have to turn down. "The boys'll want to go out for drinks," he replies, only somewhat regretfully. He wouldn't miss the opening of those bottles for all of the riches in the Galaxy.
The corner of Obi-Wan's lip twitches. "Well, I'm not sharing mine with anyone else. I've been waiting on this one for nearly the whole war effort."
Cody huffs, resisting the urge to reach out and swat at him in full view of their men. He sends a playful reprimanding nudge through the Force, regardless. "You know what I meant. At 79's."
"After that, then."
"Yeah," Cody smiles. "Sounds good."
They overlap through the bond, consciousnesses mingling as they say all that they cannot share out loud. It's overwhelming in its purity - love and an abiding sense of rightness suffusing through his entire being. He watches with an increasingly watery smile as Obi-Wan's hand slips into his robe pocket, squeezing his fingers tightly around the crystal that sits there. All the while, the Force practically glows as it blankets them in affection. Cody is the first to gingerly pull back, deeply aware that he can't afford to shed tears in front of the whole battalion. If they keep going like this, he's not entirely sure he could stop himself.
Boga helpfully interrupts the moment with an impatient shake of her head and a stomp, evidently anxious to continue moving, and unhappy as ever to not be the centre of attention. Cody snorts, running a gloved hand over the smooth scales of her flank. "Mhm. And we'll bring you some treats later too, girl, I'm sure."
Obi-Wan's face alights in mirth, reaching down to pat the varactyl firmly on the head as she huffs. "You've grown soft," he accuses warmly. "Not long ago the two of you barely tolerated each other, and now you're promising her treats?"
Cody shrugs, feigning nonchalance. "She's still an overgrown lizard that's far too fond of kicking out at anyone who isn't you," he replies. "But… call it a special occasion, I guess."
They share a small smile, and the Jedi chuckles quietly, turning his gaze out to the horizon, where the remnants of battle still rage. His expression shifts from amusement to one of determination. Cody follows his eyeline, and unholsters his blaster. They've both wasted more than enough time here.
"Stay safe," he requests quietly, stepping back to re-affix his helmet. Obi-Wan's voice is so soft that it's near inaudible when he responds.
"As long as you do too, my love."
With that, Boga rears up with a bellowing cry, beginning to skitter forwards rapidly in that quintessentially over-eager way of hers, straining against her reins as she darts ahead. Cody's certain that he would have been sent flying with the movement were he the one on her back, but Obi-Wan adjusts with her effortlessly as only an extremely well-trained handler or a Jedi can, reading her every move before it happens and shifting his posture accordingly.
It doesn't escape his notice just how effectively it demonstrates the flexibility of his lover's hips. The ghost of a smirk takes shape underneath his bucket.
Cody has admittedly never really understood animals on an intuitive level - not unless they're posing a threat that he needs put down, in any event - but can always appreciate the sight of his lover, so in sync with his steed. Obi-Wan always denies his particular affinity for the Living Force, preferring to hand-wave and bashfully comment that his former Master was a far better example of the skill, but Cody can't help but admire it regardless.
He watches fondly as Boga carries Obi-Wan off into the distance, before turning and facing his men to bark out next orders. They're to run a lap of the facility to pick off any stragglers, then follow after the General. After the day they've had, it should be an easy enough assignment.
Just as he clears his throat to speak, the comms device at his wrist trills. He raises it to answer, and a hologram of Chancellor Palpatine swims into focus.
Something, somewhere, clicks into place but doesn't quite fit; a malformed puzzle piece seeking its home, but unable to quite sit flush with the rest of the picture. It searches, settles, but juts out awkwardly all the same. A shiver runs down Cody's spine at the unnameable sensation, discomfort pricking at the back of his neck even as he does his best to shove it aside. He can figure out the cause of it later - probably some Force osik he's not trained enough to identify. It wouldn't be the first time. He files it away to mention to Obi-Wan once they're reunited.
Waxer decides that now is the right time to make a comment under his breath about the Chancellor always trying to take credit for their victories, helpfully forgetting to mute his comms channel as he does so. Cody instinctively goes to roll his eyes.
The action makes his muscles seize in place.
His eyeline is locked, forced down toward his comms, to the small hologram that hovers there. His heart pounds, stomach tightening into sickening knots as he tries to glance away, to blink, but he finds he can't even do that.
Around him, all falls unnaturally still.
In a heartbeat, the commlines go entirely dead, every soldier on the battlefield pausing mid-step as if petrified where they stand. His bond with Obi-Wan sparks with alarm, before flickering and buzzing like static: dead, abandoned, and a pit of dread swallows Cody up in its place. He feels like he's mid-fall, suspended in the air, waiting for the terrible, inevitable impact to come.
Something terribly wrong is happening here. Something none of them had seen coming.
"Commander Cody," the Chancellor speaks, smooth and low, and it reverberates through Cody's very being. He once again tries to respond, but he feels sluggish, exhausted - dragged to the very back of his consciousness where he has to swim against the violent oncoming current to even be able to remain alert, let alone act. He feels his lungs take in a breath, but it is not by his own choice.
A slow, wicked smile passes over the Chancellor's face, and all in one terrible moment, Cody understands, though he doesn't know how.
It's him.
The words that Obi-Wan shared from his encounter from Maul, the traitor, the one inside of it all-- it's him. Something in his bones, in his very DNA, knows that to be true, even before the monster opens his mouth again.
"The time has come."
Yes.
Cody searches desperately in his own mind, trying to find the entity that enthusiastically responds to the decree. Duty, pure and true, sings through his veins as a shadow passes over his mind, taking up the mantle of his body. Cody, left in the dark and drowning, is dizzy with nausea.
"Execute Order 66."
Cody opens his mouth to speak, and CC-2224 answers in his place.
"Yes, my lord."
A switch somewhere has been flipped, and the battlefield begins to move again. Cody can only process it in slow motion. Order 66. He knows what that means - why does he know what that means? Traitors. He's going to--
Fuck. He knows exactly what he's going to do.
Boga's claws skittering away on the rockface behind him, far away but not far enough, becomes an omen of his doom.
He throws what's left of his mind outwards, towards Obi-Wan - a desperate attempt at a warning - but the static only buzzes louder. He's cut off, adrift, somehow less than Force null. It's as if a part of him has been severed, hanging on limply by a single tendon as the rest of his body soldiers on.
He's the ultimate realisation of the Kaminoan's goals - the perfect, faultless soldier. A puppet on a string with all agency stripped.
Don't turn, he begs CC-2224, thrashing wildly against the bonds of his own mind - a wounded animal, captured and battering itself against its cage.
He cannot change his fate. He still has to try.
Please don't turn around. He loves you. He trusts you. Please.
CC-2224 turns, and with a steady hand, raises his blaster.
If Cody had any control of his body, he'd tilt the barrel upwards to his own chin. Anything to stop what he knows is about to happen.
He feels his body, distantly, as it shouts something, the phantom words of a stranger tearing themselves from his throat no matter how he tries to choke them down. There is no phrase in Mando'a or Basic to describe the sheer terror he feels welling up inside him, the nausea and vertigo that threaten to pull him under as he watches helplessly through eyes that are no longer his own.
Cody has died once before - in the cold, lonely cell of a satellite after his capture, wrenched back to life by the efforts of his lover.
He dies a second time as he stares down the barrel, and feels himself pull the trigger.
All he can do is pray to any god that will listen that this time is the one time he misses his mark. But how could he forget?
CC-2224 always was the best shot in his batch.
Other blaster shots follow, echoing through the chasm as the ringing in his ears builds to a deafening roar, but something in Cody's mind-- something dislodged, gives him purchase for one single moment. It's not enough to run, not enough to undo the new reality that's rapidly unspooling in front of him.
Instead, Cody does the only thing he can manage.
He screams.
His knees give way and the ground opens up to swallow him, darkness overcoming his vision as he feels his body roughly hoisted away by an entity he can no longer see, a prisoner in his own mind as his possessor takes full hold.
It's a kindness, in a way, as his thoughts slow to a crawl, succumbing to the nothingness that coldly beckons to sweep him away into oblivion.
CC-2224 doesn't have to wrestle with the weight of what he's done.
CC-2224 can continue to survive, even when Cody would rather die.
His last thought is of his brothers, reduced to mindless slaves, and of a distant, falling Jedi, his eyes wide in betrayal.
Somewhere, deep in the unknowable reaches of space, the Force weeps.
final chapter
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A/N: Epilogue coming on New Year's Day. Thanks for sticking around.
Taglist (let me know if you'd like to be added!): @mitth-eli-vanto
I've been meaning to change usernames for the whole past year, and it seemed like a TAD reference was appropriate, given how I title all of my fics after their works.
Penultimate Flowers & Cannons update coming very very soon!
