An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
Additional training, ordered by the Kaminoans.
Obi-Wan knows what that means. He knows all too well.
He ducks his head low, leaning on the back of the chair for support as he tries to focus on his breathing. His mind offers a quiet warning that his knees are threatening to buckle, but he doesn’t quite know how to steady himself. It’s been a very long time since he’s felt fear like this.
Cody.
Force above, please, not him.
Written as a prompt fill for Codywan Week (@codywanweek) Day 6 - Whump, rated T
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
These thoughts should be the primary ones running through Obi-Wan’s mind as his gaze wanders over Cody thoughtfully. He really should be focusing on the tactical, if unnerving, stroke of genius of incorporating flight into battle, and the scientific success of making such alterations to otherwise human DNA.
… But such things are decidedly not at the forefront of the Jedi Master’s mind, despite the fact they really rather ought to be.
No, what’s captured Obi-Wan’s attention more than anything else is that… well, it’s a little embarrassing, but the wings are rather beautiful.
Or:
Obi-Wan discovers that Commander class clones have been genetically modified to hide rather a rather large secret - two of them, in fact. The problem with this discovery is that it makes it all the harder to pretend that he doesn't have a burgeoning crush on his second in command.
Written as a prompt fill for Codywan Week (@codywanweek) Day 4 - Wings. Rated T!
and when all the flowers are rotten and all the cannons shot
Chapter 11
Pairings: Codywan
Tags/Warnings: none specific for this chapter.
Description:
The truth of the matter burrows deep into Cody’s skin, settling into the home it’s long-since made for itself there, 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.)
Link to read on AO3 here!
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Wordcount: 7.1k
Prev chapters: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10
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The azure crystal glints in his palm, twinkling under the fluorescent lights like a promise made that he doesn't quite know how to go about keeping. Cody runs his thumb over it absentmindedly.
He had intended to give it to Obi-Wan, not long after they'd reunited. It just… hasn't happened yet.
It's not that Cody hasn't had the opportunity, it's just that every time he reaches into his pocket to present it to him as a gift, it never feels quite right. Whether it's the timing, the grandiosity - none of it feels appropriate for what he wants.
Which would ordinarily be fine, if only Cody could figure out what it actually is that he's waiting for.
A part of him, a very small part that's been steadily growing in size over the past few weeks, tells him that he might just have an idea - but the rest of him warns that it feels too big, too soon. The topic had come up a few days ago, by entire coincidence, while Cody was helping Obi-Wan to chase away the aches and pains of the battlefield.
It's been brewing in his mind ever since, a quiet suggestion that he can't - or perhaps, doesn't want to - send away.
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Obi-Wan sits on the ground on his meditation mat, cross-legged and gloriously shirtless. It's a sight that Cody has gotten incredibly used to over the past few months, but it nonetheless steals his breath away every time. The Jedi's tunic is neatly folded, set down a few paces away. Cody presses in tightly behind him as he works to ease the knots wound tightly at his shoulders.
Cody's fingers are not something he's ever considered to be particularly gentle - they're far more used to squeezing the trigger of his deecee or to curling into fists to hurl at his enemies than to massage - but increasingly, he's found over the course of the war that he'd like them to be. Gentle in the way a healer fixes a wound; gentle in the way that he can tap into when he carefully repaints the rays of sun on his chest piece; gentle in the way he sees luckier men than he carrying their children in their arms while they visit markets in pursuit of fresh fruit and sweet treats.
Still, he thinks to himself as he works, he may be unpracticed in bringing anything but death with his hands, but he enjoys that he can use them to bring some relief to his lover now.
(He had worried, the first time, that he might be too rough, that he'd accidentally use too much pressure and hurt Obi-Wan further, but the Jedi had practically melted into him and breathily told him he was 'perfect'. Cody considers it to be amongst his finest performance reviews to date.)
Something today, Cody has noticed, is worrying the Jedi. Not that he shows it outwardly of course, but the Force rumbles with a quiet discontent that he's been shouldering since the morning's briefing. Unusually, the mission in the field that they'd completed later in the day hadn't seem to have affected it, either for good or ill. Cody had early on made the decision not to press, knowing Obi-Wan well enough to know that he'll share when he's ready.
As the massage continues, the sensation of discomfort swells within the Force, a bubble ready to breach the water's surface. Cody presses in a little harder with his thumbs, pulling them down to the shoulder blade and rubbing careful circles into the flesh there, mindful to avoid a relatively recent scar that he doesn't want to disturb. He thinks quietly that one day, his lover will receive the final scar that will ever mark his skin. Cody hopes the occasion will be followed by a life of tenderness.
With any luck, he'll have a place in it, too.
The sound of Obi-Wan clearing his throat brings his attention back to the present.
"I believe he's married her, you know," Obi-Wan says into the quiet, all too matter-of-fact and yet far too melancholic, all in the same breath.
Cody allows a long pause to settle between them before he tries to form a response, not needing to ask for context. He knows all too well the source of stress that the former Padawan's personal life has been for Obi-Wan. He and Senator Amidala have been about as subtle as a duracrete brick through a window over the course of their courtship, and yet despite that, it's not the appearances of it all that worries the Jedi Master.
It's Anakin. It's always Anakin.
Obi-Wan is not a man prone to wallowing in excessive stresses - he carries himself with as much lightness as he can allow, releasing the worst of any given emotion to the Force before he can drown in it. This discipline, Cody has come to realise, is not something that extends to his relationship with the younger Jedi in the slightest.
'Brothers', is how Obi-Wan tends to refer to it. Cody suspects it extends to something a little more parental than that.
His worry for Anakin, his fears about his tendency for rule-breaking-- no, that's not quite accurate, given how many rules Obi-Wan himself is wont to bend… rather, it's his secrecy in his particular manner of rule breaking - seem to put Obi-Wan on edge like nothing else.
He doesn't say it, but Cody knows that the lack of trust Anakin seems to have in him is the thing that twists the knife the most.
"What tipped you off?" Cody asks, his tone equally as soft as he runs his fingers lightly over the skin of Obi-Wan's back, absentmindedly tracing more than massaging now.
"Something fairly innocuous Padmé said the last time we spoke. The Force revealed her." He scoffs quietly, and Cody doesn't need to be able to see his face to know that he's frowning. "It reveals them both."
The Jedi sighs, tipping his head back to gaze at the ceiling. "Just how the Council haven't pulled him up on it yet, I have no clue."
Cody raises a brow. "You think they know?" He draws his pointer finger, slowly, down the dip of his spine, then back upwards. Obi-Wan exhales, slow and measured.
"I do," he confirms softly. "In fact, I know that they know. But, I suppose I do understand, to a degree. Their hands are bound. Losing such an important General, at this juncture of the war, might prove…" he pauses, humming as Cody continues his soothing ministrations, "… catastrophic, to say the least. I wouldn't be surprised if they end up approaching him once peace has been declared."
Cody can't help but notice the way Obi-Wan distances himself, as if he himself were not also a member of the Council who could very well bring this matter to the agenda if he so wished. The Jedi Master will protect his youngling to the last, even if he doesn't want to ever admit it out loud. Old habits are hard to break.
"Why?" Cody finds himself asking, nearly blurting out his half-formed thought before his mind catches up with him.
Obi-Wan glances over his shoulder, meeting Cody's gaze with a curious look. "Why would they approach him after…?" he asks.
Cody shakes his head. A short pause falls between them, as he tries to collect his thoughts. He knows he can't say what's truly on his mind without giving far too much away. He keeps his thoughts small, guarded in the Force.
"No, I understand that part perfectly fine. It's just…" He bites the inside of his cheek, a nervous habit he'd picked up all the way back on Kamino - subtle enough that the trainers won't notice. "Anakin doesn't seem the type," he eventually clarifies. Obi-Wan's eyes trace his face in a way that tells him he knows there's more to it than that, but he mercifully doesn't push.
The Jedi Master turns to face forwards again as Cody's hands slide up to his scalp, adding a gentle pressure with his fingertips.
"He's always been far too emotional for his own good," Obi-Wan murmurs, quiet disapproval lacing his tone even as Cody works to melt it away into breathy hums. "A romantic declaration such as that is exactly in his wheelhouse. It was always a question of 'when', not 'if'." His shoulders drop an inch, allowing himself to lean into Cody's touch. His voice dips lower, as if confessing to a shameful secret. "I suppose it was too much to hope that he might come to me about it before getting to this point."
Cody puts all of his effort into the touch of his hands, focusing on the feel of the soft hair that slips between his fingers. He wants to distract Obi-Wan from the sorrow, regret, uncertainty that drifts through the Force between them.
"I can't imagine where he gets it from," he comments in his best attempt at dryness, earning him a scoff. A flicker of amusement pierces the fog that had been descending to cloud his lover's mind, and Cody can't help but let his lips quirk up a fraction.
"I am not romantic," Obi-Wan protests, but Cody can hear the smile in his voice.
"Sure you're not, cyar'ika," Cody drawls, leaning in to press a kiss behind his ear. Obi-Wan promptly sighs in contentment, falling nearly boneless against him as Cody continues his tender affection, before hastily straightening up with an unimpressed huff and swatting half-heartedly at his Commander.
"That was a reaction to you. It betrays nothing of my own tendencies."
Cody remains undeterred. "Which are romantic, cyare."
"Which are realistic," Obi-Wan corrects haughtily, turning properly to press a smiling kiss to Cody's cheek. The conversation soon changes to different, more practical topics, but Cody finds himself distracted for the rest of the evening, mulling over the words he can't quite bring himself to say.
He doesn't find the courage for them to leave his lips until much the following morning. He watches from his position sat at the edge of the cot as Obi-Wan frowns thoughtfully at the small syringe pinched between his fingers. He flicks at it to remove the gathered air bubbles, disturbing the amber liquid inside. It swirls, but otherwise appears unremarkable - a clever disguise, considering that it's anything but.
It always strikes as being strange to Cody, that something so simple can be so sacred.
"Could a Jedi get married, and still serve the Force?"
Obi-Wan's eyes flick upwards to meet Cody's gaze at the question. Cody, unable to bear the burn of it into his skin, suddenly becomes preoccupied with the way his hands fidget in his lap.
The syringe of golden magic lowers in his periphery, assuming its standard position at the Jedi's thigh.
("A miracle of modern medicine," Obi-Wan had said, half-winkingly, the first time Cody had watched him inject it. Cody hadn't told him at the time that it's a substance he'd gladly worship, if only for the amount it's apparently done for his General's life. He's sure Obi-Wan feels his appreciation for it, though. Cody tries to make it clear in every kiss pressed to his jaw, his fingers tracing the line of his beard; in every drag of his blunt nails down over his chest. He's seen plenty of holos of him from before the treatments, of course, but they never quite compute. Obi-Wan is, and always has been, the very picture of a man.)
"'Marriage' is an interesting concept," Obi-Wan responds, as carefully evasive as ever. "Possessive, by its very definition."
"It doesn't have to be," Cody hears himself argue, with far more insistence behind his words than he'd initially intended. "Giving yourself, promising to love and take care of another… that's devotion, not possession, surely."
The Jedi hums noncommittally at the suggestion. "The Order doesn't see it that way, and I understand why. Love is separate to attachment, certainly, but vowing to put one other person above all else for the rest of time is, understandably, a difficult concept for them to agree to."
Cody frowns. It makes sense, he thinks. It does. But…
Obi-Wan is watching him curiously again, now having finished his self-administered injection. The two of them dance, skittishly, through the Force bond, not quite wanting to touch minds but still orbiting one another, always orbiting.
"It probably feels different for natborns," Cody starts, unsure, "but I always thought the sound of it was… nice." A childish analysis, he internally chastises, but presses on regardless. "Someone promising themselves to you. Committing to-- to being equals, always."
Love - unconditional love, the type of which is unerring and not at all contingent on obedience, or one's circumstances of birth or creation - is something most of the Vode believe they'll never get.
No, not quite true. It's something most of the Vode believe they're unworthy of, even if they receive it. The idea of marriage, that someone would willingly and enthusiastically declare to the legal systems of the Republic, to the entire Galaxy, that this is their partner, and of that fact they are both committed and unashamed… well. Cody can understand why the idea has its pull.
Obi-Wan's signature in the Force softens at the edges, blurring with a sunlit warmth and compassion. It radiates outwards, its tendrils reaching toward Cody and curling around him, soothing, affectionate. He's sure to be careful with his expression, still - though Cody can clearly tell there's something he doesn't want to give away - but he smiles gently.
"That's understandable, darling," he murmurs. "Very much so."
The Jedi turns away, busying himself with appropriately disposing of the medical waste. After nearly two decades of this, it's clear that the motions have become deeply familiar routine.
"The Order may not approve," Obi-Wan continues, his voice a fraction quieter now, his signature in the Force diminished and controlled, "but I… cannot say I'm unaware of the appeal, on a personal level."
If Cody's heart rate raises a little at the weight of the sheer implication lacing Obi-Wan's tone, he knows better than to comment on it. They're treading ground that he can't even begin to pretend to know how to cover, but… still. Good to know.
His gazes catches on Obi-Wan's as he turns back around. The two share a small smile, and a score of butterflies take flight all at once in the pit of Cody's stomach. Very good to know, indeed.
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Cody loses the staring match he's been having with the crystal for the better part of the last five minutes. Sighing heavily, he returns it to its designated place, nestled deep inside his desk drawer. He'll come back to it later, he knows, as he always seems to in private moments - but for the rest of the morning, he has work to get on with.
Force knows the machinery of the GAR won't pause for a second to give him rest. He's certain he'll have missed at least twenty comms in the short time he's allowed himself to be distracted. If he ever went on holiday (not that clones would ever be allowed such luxuries), he'd be suspicious that the damn Republic might explode in his absence.
Swiftly, he dons his helmet, pivoting to walk out of the door. As he does, Cody allows all thoughts of future plans to smooth away into the Force. They touch down planetside in less than two hours time - the time for distractions is over.
Cody is, by this point, used to the full spectrum of emotion that comes from being stationed in an active warzone. The battlefield is more of a home to him than the safety of duracrete walls and the softness of linens, and a part of him, for better or worse, imagines it'll always feel that way.
Directly on the field, there isn't room for much more than the here and now - adrenaline, focus, discipline.
But today, things seem to be a little bit different. Excitement, oddly enough, is the primary feeling thrumming through Cody's veins as they progress through the hundred-metre-high treetop walkways of Lorikhan.
They're picking up the pace - it had been a long morning of climbing into position and waiting with bated breath for the signal flare to go up, but by now they're nearly in a flat out sprint, racing to their second position to hopefully take the Seppie research team by the flank. Their group is relatively small, limited to a handful of Ghost Company members alongside himself and the General, acting as backup to a contingent of the 501st.
Obi-Wan runs alongside him, and Cody keeps him just barely a half-pace ahead as he always does, so he can keep a more effective eye on his six. It's the first time in a long time that they've been out on such a simple mission together like this.
The two of them lead the charge as they rush toward the objective, trusting that their path has been cleared enough to not have to worry about snipers taking potshots at their exposed position. The platform beneath them is steady enough - wood, as every structure in this settlement is. Cody quietly thanks the Stars that it hasn't rained recently, or else they'd be in a much less favourable position now. The local architects don't seem to be particularly enamoured with the concept of safety rails.
Cody risks taking his eye off of the path ahead of them for just a moment to sneak a glance at Obi-Wan.
The wind whips through his hair, glowing like a copper flame under the dappled sunlight as they run. It's nearly back to the length it was before he shaved it for his undercover mission - more than enough to be able to fall into his eyes again in a pleasingly dishevelled manner anyhow, and that's just fine for Cody. It's a source of ongoing relief for the Commander, who has taken every opportunity over the past two months to complain about not being able to run his fingers through (or pull) his Jedi's hair nearly effectively enough.
Obi-Wan, in turn, had huffed and commented snippily about Cody objectifying him, and that one day he'd be likely to lose all of his hair from age anyway, so will his love be fickle enough that he'd leave him then? Cody had simply laughed and shrugged, neglecting to comment that they'd both be lucky to live that long.
As it turns out, playfully bickering like they've been married 40 years is quickly becoming one of their favourite pastimes. Cody imagines they're more skilled at the art of it than most.
A wave of gentle, amused affection presses against his awareness in the Force, and Cody smiles under his helmet. Obi-Wan, of course, is able to sense every moment that he's distracted by thoughts of him. No doubt the Jedi will already be mentally rehearsing quips to tease him with later. He sends back a returning nudge as they turn a sharp corner, their goal now in sight.
"How much further?" A trooper behind them calls out. The sound of gunfire in the distance is everpresent, reminding them of just how urgent it is that they be swift. The 501st aren't exactly being cut down where they stand, but each second saved on their arrival is another vod who gets to live.
"A quarter klick, as the aiwha flies," Cody shouts back. "But our route is a little more complicated. We'll still be there in under 2 minutes, so--" he pauses to duck as a bat-like creature flies overhead, barely skimming the top of his helmet, "-- blasters at the ready."
"Sir, yes, sir!" comes the instant barked reply.
The moment that the 212th makes contact is chaos - but for a refreshing change, chaos on their terms. The research team they're ambushing is holed up in a small bunker-like building, nestled amidst one of the largest upper platforms toward the top of the trees. It's clear that they weren't expecting resistance, but that doesn't mean the battalion can get complacent - they are, after all, still droids, and even droids built for the primary purpose of scientific advancement are designed to kill.
For the better part of the last hour, the 501st has been whittling down their forces, occupying a nearby building to take cover as best as they can. They're risking tiring themselves out with the sustained effort, but a battlefield as exposed as the platform outside doesn't lend itself well to an all-out assault.
As far as tactics go, the 212th's job is to disrupt - create a break in the enemy clanker's lines and sew enough confusion that the 501st can risk rushing in. With any luck, the combined assault will make it so that they can destroy the Separatist ranks without risk of the droids slipping inside and compromising the research they were sent here to retrieve - something to do with aerial weapons testing, if Cody remembers correctly. Much better to have it in their hands than that of the enemy.
On Obi-Wan's signal, the 212th emerge from below, grappling their way up to join the fray.
The effect is immediate, mechanical shouts of panic going up amongst the scores of droids that await them. Shots fly in every direction, a few stray bolts from the Seps catching their own numbers in the back.
Cody's eyes pass rapidly over the enemy ranks, categorising and mentally assigning priorities as he takes in the numbers, designations, and formations present. This shouldn't be too difficult if they're careful, and--
Ah. An assassin droid, posted at the back of the group and approaching rapidly - evidently a contingency on the Separatists' end, set here in case of attack. Obi-Wan smoothly steps ahead of Cody, deflecting an incoming bolt and shooting him an easy, calm smile. He's seen it too - the bond thrums with a sense of understanding, the type of harmony that can only exist in the eye of the storm.
"I rather think it's time for a Mynock Swoop, don't you?" the Jedi comments, his eyes holding a gleam that's almost mischievous. He hardly needs to ask - Cody is already bracing himself, getting into position.
"It's like you read my mind, sir."
Obi-Wan hums, flourishing his lightsaber as Cody interlaces his fingers palm upwards, lowering onto one knee. "Yes, I seem to have a tendency of doing that," he replies easily. He presses his energy against Cody's, nuzzling through the Force like an eopie. Even the adrenaline of battle doesn't seem to quell his tendency for affection. Cody presses back, fondly exasperated.
"Cover us!" the Commander calls, keeping an eye on the assassin droid in the midst of the throng as Obi-Wan rolls his shoulders, bouncing on the balls of his feet in anticipation. "Ready…?"
They hold position until the assassin droid is barely a few steps away from being in the direct centre of the mass of clankers. The Force is a whisper, holding its breath. It waits with them, a rubber band pulled taut in preparation, ready and eager to snap.
"Now!"
Obi-Wan launches forwards, planting a foot firmly on Cody's hand as Cody pushes upwards with all of his might, acting as a springboard. He senses the way the Jedi cloaks himself in the Force as if he himself were about to leap, using it to enhance his movement as he practically flies through the air overhead.
Cody allows himself half a second to stare. His cloak billows behind him, the armoured pauldrons that sit over his robes glinting in the sunlight that surrounds him like a halo. His lightsaber is brandished overhead, ready to strike downwards the second he lands, his face set into a determined snarl. Stars. Cody is a lucky man.
His thought telegraphs through - he has no reason to conceal himself at this point, after all - and he sees Obi-Wan turn his head, just slightly, a smirk gracing his features, before he lands atop the assassin droid in the middle of the crowd, sweeping his saber out in an arc of destruction.
The Commander amends his earlier thought to be a little more accurate. He's a very lucky man who's going to utterly jump on his Jedi the second they're behind closed doors later tonight.
Cody isn't certain he can match Obi-Wan in his beauty, despite the other man's protestations otherwise, but he can match him in devastation. With a yell, he charges forwards - head down, shoulders up - barrelling through the now thoroughly confused clankers to get to where his General has landed.
The first time they'd practiced the Mynock Swoop manoeuvre - a name that, to this day, remains contentious between them ("Mynocks don't swoop, Commander, it's more of a nosedive and a flourish," Obi-Wan had objected. Cody shrugged in reply. "Too many syllables," he'd said. "Besides, it looks like close enough to a swoop to me." The Jedi had wrinkled his nose at that, but ultimately relented.) - they'd been partnered together for nearly a month. Cody had watched Obi-Wan launch himself through the air in the field on many an occasion, but never quite achieving the height or distance he was aiming for.
What else was a helpful Commander to do but to offer himself up as a living vaulting platform?
Obi-Wan's eyes had lit up, instantly eager to test the idea. Their first attempt was… less than stellar - the Jedi had severely underestimated the power that Cody could put into his push upwards, and he'd ultimately ended up in the backline of the enemy formation without any backup to speak of.
Cody had, in turn, panicked and charged ahead in an attempt to get to his stranded General, unintentionally creating a two-pronged approach of surprise for the group of clankers, who had practically folded in on themselves in their confusion. The cleanup was shockingly easy. During their mission review later in the day, Cody's follow-up of rushing in like a desperate madman had been officially codified into the tactic - or, it had been written into the General's datapad, at least. As far as custom-created manoeuvres go, that's as official as a signed declaration from the Chancellor himself.
It's a risky gambit, but it's always proved effective at clearing out small to medium sized groups of particularly tightly clustered foes.
Perfect for today.
"Come here often?" Obi-Wan asks breathlessly as they form up together, back to back, sharing in one another's awareness through the bond to keep themselves alert. They've fought together just like this hundreds - thousands - of times in the past before the Force connection, but it just feels sharper now. They've always made a deadly team, but in the past few months they've become practically unstoppable. Cody grins.
"Only when I'm following my suicidal General into an incredibly ill-advised battleplan." He squeezes the trigger of his blaster, thinning the herd from the inside as the 501st and 212th begin to add pressure externally. "Which is to say, approximately once per rotation."
Obi-Wan laughs at that, bright and unburdened. "Your General sounds like a menace," he returns, using the Force to pull a B1 into his waiting 'saber. "Perhaps you should consider resigning."
Cody makes a show of sighing heavily, throwing up a quick hand signal over his head to order his men forwards a little faster - they need to press in before they lose their advantage of surprise - and clicks his tongue against the roof of his mouth loud enough that it's picked up by his helmet. "Can't do that," he says, forcing faux-resignation into his tone. "I don't think he'd survive a single day in the field without me."
The bond floods with amusement, fondness, I love you. "Oh, he's that incompetent?"
"'Reckless' might be a more accurate descriptor. Besides--" Cody twirls his blaster in his palm to butt an approaching clanker in the head, then sends it flying with a decisive kick. A quick glance confirms that his Comms aren't accidentally broadcasting and that no one's close enough to overhear. "I kinda have a thing for him anyway. Someone's gotta pulls his arse out of the fire - shame if such a pretty face gets taken away from the Galaxy, you know?"
The rest of the battalion has managed to carve enough of a path ahead that the two can safely break formation. Cody steps back, turning to face Obi-Wan directly. "I think my General is ridiculous," he deadpans. "And yes, if you must know, not bad on the eyes either."
The Jedi flashes him a blinding smile. "Well, in that case, I should tell you that I find you rather--"
"Sir!" A trooper jogs up to them, and the two swiftly school themselves into professionalism. "Skywalker's asking to rendezvous. We spotted Sep air reinforcements on the way, we don't have long."
Obi-Wan nods, passing a hand over his beard as he surveys the field around them. Cody follows his gaze. They'll be picking up stragglers outside here for the next few minutes as they make their way inside the research building, then it's only a matter of finding what they need. The two share a small glance, knowing they're in agreement - it's not all too worrying, but the prospect of air reinforcements is not to be taken lightly. On such high up platforms, being picked off would be all too easy.
"Very well," Obi-Wan says to the trooper, inclining his head. "Lead the way. Cody, continue to guide our men here. I believe the data inside the facility will be encrypted, so if you can personally escort Cipher and ensure he has the time to crack the consoles…?"
Cody offers a sharp salute. "On it, sir."
"Good man." They lock eyes for a heartbeat, a quiet plea of 'stay safe' passing between them without need for the words.
As the General disappears off to find Skywalker, Cody focuses his attention on the remnants of battle going on around them. A handful of clankers remain - mostly B2 units that guard the entrance of the facility. They should have more than enough men to take them out without his help, but Cody isn't a fan of leaving such things to chance. He jogs over to the fray, spotting Cipher's markings in the crowd and setting himself up defensively beside him.
"We need to move swiftly. The second we've carved enough of a path we're pushing in." Cody ducks to the side to avoid a stray bolt, pulling the younger trooper along with him. "Head down, eyes forwards. You're priority here."
Together, the two of them slip forwards, through the line of defence. Their goal is in sight, and only six B2s stand in their way. Cody raises his rifle, aiming one, two shots at the leftmost clanker's blaster arm, watching it spark uselessly as it jams. A quick burst of concentrated fire from the rest of the men has it collapsing down quickly.
30 seconds by Cody's internal estimate, and a second droid is down. Another minute for the third, and he begins to slowly push forward with Cipher. Then--
He doesn't hear the mechanical battle cry until it's already too late. A few of the men turn too, one gasping in surprise.
There was a seventh clanker.
Cody turns his head just in time to see the grenade rapidly approaching, imminently about to connect with his torso.
Time slows to a screeching halt. The Commander just about has the chance to angle his body to protect Cipher from the blow. The team needs him to crack the encryption on the data - just as he'd told his vod minutes ago, he's the priority here. Cody will always, always, protect his mission till the last.
Something shimmers, a little ways in the distance - a second assassin droid, then. It must have been cloaked, waiting until it saw their guards go down. Cody has always been a man who can respect when he's been outplayed, and this certainly seems to be checkmate.
There's a distant shout as someone calls a warning to him far too late, but Cody doesn't have the time to figure out who it is before his senses swiftly fall numb. White fills his vision, a loud ringing taking over his ears.
Huh, Cody finds himself thinking faintly as his body is thrown backwards, hurtling through the air and over the side of the platform at a rather alarming speed. Just a flashbang. Could've been worse.
It's a strange thing to consider himself lucky as he plummets at a very dramatic pace from the top of the treeline towards the ground, but it's technically true. If he were hit with anything more explosive, he'd be hurtling downwards in multiple pieces right now.
Cody wouldn't necessarily call himself someone who's in the habit of finding silver linings, but he supposes it's never too late to start.
The air is punched out of his lungs violently as his back cracks against a branch in his descent. A sharp yelp rips from him, his body radiating with pain. The interruption to his freefall has the unfortunate side effect of causing him to lose control midair, his body spinning and twisting rapidly as he flails ever downwards.
It looks like a straight fall is all that exists between him and being reconnected with the Manda, and by all rights it should be, but within moments, Cody suddenly finds himself colliding with a thicket of vines that seem to shoot outwards from where they sit amongst the branches to catch him. They blanket his fall as he tumbles head over heels, over and over and over, snagging on various tendrils and snapping them as he makes his descent.
He doesn't have much time to muse on how, exactly, this all happened between the repeated blows to his body, but he's slowing down - bruised and bloodied, certainly, but slowing nevertheless.
Eventually, he finds himself deposited a short ways from the base of the tree, his limbs tangled up in vines but still attached to his body by some Force-given miracle.
Cody lays there, dazed, for an unknowable length of time. Is anything broken? He twitches the ends of his fingers, his toes; turns his head slowly side to side; breathes deeply in, then out.
Everything hurts, certainly, but nothing seems to be immovable. At worst, a cracked rib and some probable damage to his spine, he thinks, quietly wondering at his luck. If he'd have landed at just a slightly different angle, gotten an arm twisted up by the wrong tendril… Cody realises belatedly that there's an urgent sounding voice speaking rapidly in his ear, trying to get his attention. At least the ringing's settled down enough now to be able to distinguish one noise from another again.
"-mander? Come in, Commander."
Cody gingerly reaches up to tap the switch to the comms in his bucket, wincing as he feels along a sizeable dent in the side. That'll need replacing. He'd just painted it, too.
"Commander Cody," he greets, his words raspy but somehow still coming out coherently. With a groan, he gingerly pulls himself up into a sitting position, pushing through the screaming pain in his torso. "I copy."
A sigh of relief on the other end tells him that the men must have been worried. Peering upwards, he distantly spies a flash of 212th gold from the walkway above. They're probably searching for him, despite the fact that they don't have time - they need to have started moving into the bunker by now. Though, their hesitation on that front is a good sign for one thing, at the very least - they must have taken care of the assassin droid. That was quick.
"Good to hear your voice, sir," the reply crackles through. "The General said you were alive, and that he managed to slow your descent a little, but that's still a hell of a fall."
Well, that explains the sudden appearance of the vines. Cody rolls his shoulders experimentally, slowly detangling his limbs from the vines that he's half-dangling from. He's incredibly sore, but all things considered, it's shocking that he's alive. He just might chance the Coruscant lottery when they return - what's one in three trillion odds, anyway?
"Give him my thanks," he says. Not that it actually needs to be passed on, given the bond. Cody has been aware of Obi-Wan's presence hovering around his like a moth fluttering in the orbit of a flame, ever since he regained full awareness. He pushes a deep, appreciative wave of gratitude in his direction through the Force, and it's returned quickly with a relieved sense of warmth. "No one needs to worry, I'm in one piece."
Cody squints again at the sunlight that filters through the mass of leaves and branches overhead. Stars, climbing all the way back up there again is going to be a headache.
"Did Cipher get inside?" he asks, flinching as his comms come back to him with a hiss and crackle of static directly in his ear. He hits the side of the helmet, but all it serves to do is worsen the noise temporarily.
"Affirmative, Commander." He can just about make out the trooper's reply. "General Kenobi turned around after you fell, and is escorting him personally."
A wave of relief moves through Cody as he hears that. The other boys could have definitely succeeded had Cipher been killed or incapacitated, but likely not before the reinforcements had already arrived. Hopefully his little blunder won't have costed them too much precious time. "You should keep moving," he tells the trooper, trying to bring up his downloaded holomap of the local area, but to no avail. "I can make my own way back to evac. I have my blasters."
Cody reconsiders his confidence in that statement, and looks down.
"I still have one blaster," he corrects.
"Are you sure, sir?" the soldier's uncertain tone is evident, even through the damaged comms. "We might be able to spare someone to--"
"That's an order," Cody cuts in, sharply. "We came here to retrieve the data, and we can only do that if we move now. I can handle a little stroll back to the ship."
Well - 'a little stroll' might be putting it very lightly, but Cody decides that point's not worth mentioning. It's a hard and fast rule of his in the field - if his limbs aren't broken, he can walk it off until it's safe to stop and look at properly. Here, amidst the thick undergrowth of the forest with who knows how many Seps incoming, he's the furthest thing from safe. The tracker built into the armour at his wrist - slow, but just about the only piece of equipment he has that's still working - blinks at a pace that tells him he's around a fifteen minute limp away from the ground party evac point.
Not ideal, but he'll take it. The trooper signs off on the Comms, sounding reluctant to leave him to return on his own, but under the threat of having pulling rank, lets him be. Cody, carefully and slowly, begins to walk.
How hurt?
Transmitting specific words through their Force bond is a particularly difficult affair that requires great focus and skill, and Obi-Wan has always been much, (much) better at it than Cody - the prior decades of experience help more than a little, he imagines. Still, even with his talents, the two of them tend to be restricted to short phrases and limited grammar.
Fine, Cody sends back, brushing away the thorny stem of a long plant that snakes across his path. He furrows his brow, finding it harder than usual to access such an intensive part of the bond in his current state. Alive.
A healthy dose of scepticism floods his way at that, and Cody rolls his eyes.
Fine, he repeats after a half-minute of attempts, packaging the word with all of his insistence and certainty. He means it. He's not just putting on a brave face for the sake of it - he's fully intending on submitting himself to Helix's whims the second he's aboard The Negotiator, but for the moment, he's in perfectly adequate shape.
Anything broken?
Cody sighs to himself, knowing that even with his best efforts, Obi-Wan won't rest with his overprotective fussing until he's seen him in person and assessed the wounds for himself. He can't really blame him - Cody would be doing the same in his position, undoubtedly - but he wishes he'd trust that he truly is fine.
Negative, he sends back. Force, he's starting to get a headache now, too.
Obi-Wan must be able to sense his fatigue as he swiftly stops trying to share words. Instead, the two pivot to their usual abstractions. Cody fills the bond with reassurance, calm, warmth - and in turn he can feel his Jedi relax, just a little. His concern remains, bleeding through at the edges, but consciously he returns Cody's gesture with a pulse of tenderness that lingers in the periphery of his awareness like a hand gently placed on his shoulder.
Even as their attentions divert, they stay intertwined through the Force, keeping a quiet eye on one another as they head to their respective evac points. Cody can hear the distant whirr of gunships getting ever closer as he makes his way as best as he can through the dense foliage underfoot, and he prays his team have been fast enough to get what they need. Obi-Wan doesn't feel particularly worried about anything other than him though, which he takes as a good sign.
After a moment of consideration, Cody removes his helmet, not wanting the sun to turn him into a walking, shiny target from a vantage point of the treetops. With the sun directly overhead as it is, he imagines he's practically a walking target in his armour - maybe it's a good thing that it's no longer quite as polished as it was before he fell.
A quiet sigh leaves him as he turns the bucket over in his hands, assessing the damage with a furrowed brow. Practically half destroyed, but at least it did its job. He's just about to tuck it under his arm as he hears a twig snap behind him.
Perhaps it's a hardened soldier's instinct for battle, or perhaps it's simple intuition, but Cody feels a chill of ice rush its way through his veins. Something, somewhere deep inside of him - an urgency, buried and primal - tells him that something has gone very wrong.
It's a pity, really, that his awareness hasn't been all that sharp as of late. It's not like it would change anything now, but it would have at least given him a fighting chance.
For the second time today - for the second time in the past hour - Cody turns his head just a moment too late.
next chapter
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Taglist (let me know if you'd like to be added!): @mitth-eli-vanto
A/N: Sorry it's been a while, we've just moved halfway across the country in the past week! Still in time on the monthly uploads though, phew. Next one should be coming fairly soon as it'll be a little shorter (as it stands so far…) and then we're really moving into endgame. Thank you for coming along on this journey with me for this silly little fic <3
and when all the flowers are rotten and all the cannons shot
Chapter 14
Pairings: Codywan
Tags/Warnings: (spoilers for this chapter - continued from the last) angst, hurt/some comfort, in depth discussion of blood and injury, torture, character death (from a certain point of view)
Description:
The truth of the matter burrows deep into Cody’s skin, settling into the home it’s long-since made for itself there, 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.)
It was something Alpha-17 had drilled into them during torture training. He'd practically scoffed at the idea - Cody can see those narrowed eyes, the dismissive wave of his hand even now.
"If you had the capacity to break," he had said, his tone as no-nonsense as ever, "then you wouldn't be here in this room, chosen for this purpose. You were built to be a stronger soldier - a better one - than the natborns. Don't think for a second that their weaknesses are yours. You can, and will, withstand anything for the sake of the Republic, without so much as flinching. Today, you will be taught how."
He'd believed it at the time. They all had, shiny and bright-eyed as they were, their pride at being selected for command overruling their usual senses. Playing to ego is, universally, an incredibly effective tactic.
Bound here now, with his wrists cuffed overhead and his hair yanked back roughly by Maul so he's forced to look directly down the barrel of the holoprojector, Cody desperately wishes his vod had been right.
He's a mess, hollowed out and ruined, and Obi-Wan--
Obi-Wan looks ill.
"Maul," the Jedi says, his fingers flexing at his sides. The hologram of his hunched figure wavers briefly, then rights itself. Whatever technology Maul is using isn't exactly cutting edge, Cody notes. Most likely picked up from some black market on an Outer Rim shithole. He'd have expected much more grandiosity from someone so concerned with outward appearances. He must have been in a rush.
The gravel in Obi-Wan's tone is evident, even through the subpar comms and the apparent damage to Cody's hearing. He doesn't know if it's permanent, and at this point, he's past caring. Everything he's heard for the last half hour sounds like it's muffled, underwater - but being able to hear at all is a blessing, given his circumstances. Obi-Wan's eyes flicker from him, to the Zabrak holding him up like a prize. He's not sure he's ever seen such anger reflected there. "Your quarrel is not with him."
The Sith beside Cody curls his lip in his blood-crusted periphery, loosing a sardonic quip in reply - at least, Cody thinks he does. He's rather preoccupied with the way his head is being bashed against the nearest wall to be able to tell for certain. The sound that instantly escapes Obi-Wan is hauntingly strangled, nearly inhuman, howling out for something and Cody's very bones ache to answer, but he's--
He's so very tired, he thinks, as his vision darkens at the edges.
It'll be alright, cyare.
He knows the thought won't breach the impenetrable barrier of the cuffs, but Cody thinks it anyway, tries to project it outwards like a piece of paper carefully folded into the shape of a ship, set forth to sail through the air.
It hits the wall swiftly, crumples without fanfare. Thankfully, Cody isn't aware enough to sense the way it stills, his own consciousness well on its way to meet the very same fate.
Distantly, he muses on how sorry he is that this might be the last that Obi-Wan ever sees of him. He hopes that his lover will look away, to preserve the image of him unbroken in his mind, but Cody knows him well enough to know he'll be watching to the last. His wonderful, noble Jedi. He'd like to think he hasn't failed him. He knows Obi-Wan would never, ever think that he did, and that serves as a small comfort, at least.
The commanding tone of Alpha-17 rings clear amongst his thoughts before all goes deathly still, his disapproval-laced tone cutting cleanly through the darkness of his mind.
Weak, he mutters lowly. What a waste.
Cody can't help but agree.
_____________________________
Obi-Wan wonders if there's a sum total of loss one can experience before they lose their mind forever.
It's a question he's asked himself more than once over the years, though in the wake of every new piece of his heart he has ripped from him, he finds it harder and harder to obtain an answer.
Still, he imagines. This might be the final tipping point.
He stands - somehow, despite the threatening of his knees to give out underneath him - with his hands clenched by his sides, shoulders drawn high, and his mouth agape in horror. A far cry from the precise, sharp silhouette he usually presents to the Galaxy - and most importantly, to his enemies.
By the look on Maul's face, he already knows he's won.
It has been barely minutes since the agony ceased. Obi-Wan had watched, frozen in pure terror, as he had answered the call to a hologram of his lover being cuffed in Force suppressants. A sickening sense of understanding had washed over him as his own pain had instantly blinked out of existence with the soft click of metal against metal. Knowing that the suffering he'd felt had been Cody's…
The memory of it still dances through his veins, ghosts of sensation that make his eyes sting and his heart pound. Obi-Wan trembles. He knows he couldn't stop it if he tried.
"Your quarrel," he growls, though he hates how weakly the insistence leaves his lips, "is not with him."
His usual wit escapes him as he fights for any angle - any at all - that he can approach this with. He's supposed to be the Negotiator, isn't he? He should be able to conjure something, even stalling would be enough, but as he stares at Cody, bloodied and beaten, all Obi-Wan wants to do is weep.
He supposes begging isn't off the table. To his abject horror, he realises he'd be very willing to try.
"Debatable, as all things are," Maul replies vaguely, a small, satisfied smirk etched into his features. He probably thinks it'll incense Obi-Wan. Usually, he'd be incorrect.
Fuck. He feels helpless.
He opens his mouth again, taking in a shuddering breath to prepare himself to speak, and--
Obi-Wan cries out in alarm as Maul shoots out a clawed hand, sending Cody's head careening into the concrete wall beside him.
The amount of blood--
Force--
Obi-Wan chokes as his lover falls limp against his bonds, every breath sending him spiralling further and further into panic.
Satine. He thinks of Satine, in her final moments. The look on Maul's face as the shining light of her signature was cruelly snuffed out, all to spite him-- it's the same now, and he--
"Please," Obi-Wan rasps, his voice raw with desperation. He's barely aware of the way the words tumble from his mouth, his blood pounding in his ears in a violent rush. "Please, I--"
The plea seems to amuse the Sith to no end, the Zabrak tilting his head to the side as he drinks in the sight of the broken man before him. He tsk's softly, raising a brow.
"You're disgustingly predictable," he drawls. "It'd be almost quaint, if it weren't so very disappointing. You should be used to this kind of thing by now." He draws himself up, twirling the comms device that sits in his palm. "But believe it or not, I have no interest in seeing you act like a snivelling youngling."
Sith-yellow eyes flick downwards from where they were boring into him, returning after he taps a few buttons. Obi-Wan's commlink responds with an answering flash. The Jedi immediately triages his alarm at how it's even possible that Maul found his frequency - that's a question for later, once Cody is returned safely to him.
"If you want to preserve your precious Commander's life, I'd suggest you react swiftly. And-- oh," Maul adds as if an afterthought, unclipping the 'saber from his belt and pressing one of the ends firmly into the blood soaked streaks of Cody's hair. His lips curl back, revealing a flash of sharp teeth, and Obi-Wan catches a spark of something altogether odd in his eye, visible for barely a moment. Desperation? "Come alone."
The hologram flickers and dies, leaving Obi-Wan reeling in its wake.
His hesitation only paralyses him for a few seconds before he reaches out with a shaking hand, checking the message that had come through. Sure enough, a set of coordinates have been pinged his way.
A dead space between the Mid and Outer rims; a base located deep within a system thought unable to support life. Fitting, Obi-Wan thinks faintly, trying his best to gather himself together. He knows that at least one of them won't be making it out alive - and he also knows, with every ounce of his being, that he must fight for that person to be Maul.
It is not a Jedi-like thought, to wish death upon another, but Obi-Wan isn't certain he has it in himself to be a Jedi right now. Maul wishes to strip him bare of what he is in order to confront him?
His jaw clenches, his chest tightening as his hand drifts absently to the lightsaber at his hip. The familiar weight is comforting, the kyber inside singing urgently in his mind, as if in agreement with the turmoil coursing through him.
Very well, he thinks, as the song builds to a cacophony. He shall have his wish, and then some.
Obi-Wan straightens himself up, donning his armour with a single minded focus as he prepares his return to the bridge. A plan begins to form in his mind - half-finished, but it'll have to do. The Council will have his head for this, but he can't find it in himself to care.
It's time to end this, once and for all.
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"He said to come alone?"
Obi-Wan nods his affirmation, passing a hand over his beard. The hastily gathered crew in front of him run over the details, currently consulting a rudimentary map of the satellite that Maul is apparently camped out on. He had quickly decided against informing the whole battalion about the newfound seriousness of the situation, despite their knowledge of Cody's kidnapping - instead, Obi-Wan had chosen only a handful of higher ranking members of the 212th that he had deemed to fit well enough within the category of 'need to know': the highest ranking officers and, to Obi-Wan's great reluctance, a relatively shiny medic that he would have ultimately preferred to keep from the line of fire. Helix, unfortunately, is away helping Kix with the injured from the excursion on the ground, and to pull him away from The Resolute to here on such short notice would have both taken too much time, and drawn too much attention.
They couldn't have approached this mission withoutthe aid of someone trained in medical matters - even in the event that they take no fire going forwards, Cody will need to be stabilised before they attempt rescue. It's unfortunate, but needs must.
His concerns aren't just about keeping them safe from the Sith. The less people that are implicated in his technical rule breaking, the better.
"And we're sure it's not a trap?" Waxer asks. Obi-Wan can feel the way he frowns underneath his bucket as he asks the question, though through the cover of his armour he doesn't so much as twitch a muscle.
Nervous anticipation radiates from them all, a subtle yet constant background hum in the Force that's remained persistent over the past few hours that they've been aboard the Venator - even the storerooms feel nauseatingly thick with it. Usually, Obi-Wan would consider himself adept at ignoring such distractions, but as it is, his shields are in tatters from his stress. It seeps into his bones, setting his every nerve on edge.
With a sigh, he shakes his head. "Not at all. In fact, I'd wager that it's unlikely not to be, given what I know of our adversary."
Boil shifts in discomfort, piping up from his position near the door. "Sir, with all due respect, I don't know if--" he falters, falling silent as another trooper shoots a warning glare his way from across the room. Obi-Wan raises a placating hand, gesturing for them to stand down. He offers his best attempt at a reassuring smile. He's sure it comes out more like a grimace.
"Please Boil, go ahead. I'd appreciate us all being candid, given the stakes of the situation."
After only a moment's hesitation, Boil clears his throat again. "Right, sir," he says. "It's just, uh… I don't know if we can justify risking you for… well, this."
All eyes turn to Obi-Wan, a silent question settling over the room like a shroud, heavy and uncomfortable. From the way that no one else speaks up, it's clear that this hasn't just been a worry for Boil alone. The worst of what he wanted to say is left unspoken, and yet Obi-Wan hears the words anyway, fighting back a wince.
'This' being an assignment that's entirely against regs, putting them all in the firing line if anything goes wrong. 'This' being a calculated weighing up of the value of one soul against another, and Cody being found lacking.
The Jedi lets out a slow, measured breath, his expression shifting to one of a steely resolve.
"Commander Cody has the finest brain for strategy throughout the entire GAR," he replies evenly. "More than that, he holds the loyalty of the entire battalion - something that not every high ranking officer can claim. I will not pretend that on a personal level we aren't…" he hesitates only briefly, "friends, but he would still be a priority level target for retrieval, regardless of that fact."
Obi-Wan leans forwards, bracing his hands on the edge the holotable in front of him. "If we are to win this war, I have no doubt that Cody will be the key to doing so. So yes, the risk, to me, is justified."
His gaze turns upwards pensively, to the projected hologram of the floor plans they'd retrieved only minutes ago, once they'd successfully confirmed the make and model of the abandoned satellite. It's not too large, helpfully, but there's still far too many corners for Maul to hide in, or to station hired guns for an ambush.
"That being said," he continues, softer now, "I would not fault any of you for turning back now. I have already told you that I will assume full responsibility for any of the fallout that comes our way, but I am not naive enough to think that if punishment comes, you will not face repercussions from those that would try and claim you as theirs."
Obi-Wan is painfully aware of the rumours that float around the GAR when the vode think that their superiors aren't listening. The idea of 're-education' is one that has yet to be confirmed as an actual practice in reality, but it is, at the very least, the seed of a threat - no doubt planted and curated very deliberately to keep the clones firmly under the Kaminoan's thumbs, even once they've left.
In the event that scrutinising gazes turn to the battalion for ignoring orders in favour of pursuing a personal mission, he would do his best, as he hopes they would know, to assure everyone that he misled his troops about the unofficial nature of the assignment. He wouldn't blame them for being too nervous to commit themselves fully, though. Far from it.
And so Obi-Wan waits for a few heartbeats, keeping his gaze upturned. If any of the men choose to step away now, then they would have plausible deniability before plans are finalised.
There's anticipation in the air as helmets turn, the clones glancing between themselves. Nobody makes any move to leave.
"You're all certain?" Obi-Wan asks, returning his gaze to them. He's met with a series of nods, and a handful of salutes. The Force rings out with the undeniable truth that none of them need to say aloud - that every single person in this room would die for Cody. Not out of any sense of obligation, but out of sheer, uncomplicated devotion.
A bittersweet sadness curls in Obi-Wan's chest. How lucky he is, to have been chosen by a man who inspires such love in all who follow him. He can only hope that loyalty will pay off now.
"So, then," he clears his throat, pressing a few buttons on the holotable to zoom in on floor layout. "The plan. Yes, I am expecting a trap - but I don't imagine it will be anything as simple as finding myself surrounded. It…" he hesitates, his brow furrowing a touch as he recalls the insistence in Maul's tone, the look in his eye just before the call was cut off. Odd, for a man who usually takes great care to come across as aloof. This is not the master plan he'd been expecting from the Sith, rather something far sloppier, and it feels as if there must be a reason for that. Obi-Wan doesn't know quite what to make of it. Neither, it seems, does the Force. "It seemed like he had something he wanted to say - or do - to me, something he needed to intercept me for," he continues carefully, "though I'm not certain what. What I can sense is… unclear."
Waxer's huff is just loud enough to be picked up through his helmet's vocoder. "We send you alone, and we're risking your life. We join you, and we risk the Commander's," he mutters.
"Quite," Obi-Wan nods. "However, I think I've identified a compromise." He taps the holotable, highlighting the docking bay in a soft, pulsing blue. "If the group of us here take a small passenger shuttle to the satellite, then with some concentration, I should be able to mask the ship in the Force. That is to say, if you stay close together, I can make it so that Maul won't be able to sense you."
"That's possible, sir?"
"Theoretically." He neglects to mention how much the endeavour is likely to exhaust him - it's the best option he sees, at present. "And unless anyone has any other suggestions, then having you all concealed but ready to move in on my signal would mean that we have the element of surprise, in the event I need to call for backup."
It would also mean, in the worst case scenario, that Obi-Wan could draw Maul to one end of the satellite while the rest of them dash in to drag Cody out and away, but he doesn't voice that either. He knows they'd never agree to the risk on his life if he mentions it now.
As primary plans and backups are finalised, the small crew prepare to disembark from The Negotiator. Obi-Wan steels himself, his outward expression betraying nothing of the turmoil raging inside. The only tell is the way his fingers twitch where he holds them behind his back - and he suspects that the only person who would even notice such a thing is the only person who isn't here right now.
He takes the heartache that the thought elicits, and smooths its edges down gently, releasing it outwards to the Force. They'll be on the move soon, he reminds himself. It'll have to be enough.
An external well of disquiet presses at the boundaries of his mind, and Obi-Wan sighs softly.
"You're alright, Kelari?" he asks to the only man who hasn't rushed off to prepare yet.
The young medic - Force, but he looks so young, even by Kaminoan standards. Are they releasing them earlier…? - stands a little straighter, pride and awe blooming in his chest as his General remembers his name. He nods, fiddling with the medkit at his hip. The single stretch of paint that disrupts the clean white plastoid is new: a golden vine that wraps delicately around his upper arm, sketched there with a delicacy much more suited to creative pursuits than that of blasterfire. Obi-Wan, not for the first time, mourns for who some of his men could have been, if they weren't forced to be cogs in the machine of war.
"Yes, sir," Kelari replies, soft and timid. Obi-Wan doesn't point out that he can sense the way he's chewing on his lip underneath his helmet. The Jedi exhales slowly, settling himself. They need a medic, that's non-negotiable, and they're short on time. Feeling more than a little nauseous, he offers a smile that he hopes doesn't come across as weak, and claps the young man on the shoulder gently.
"You'll do fine," he murmurs in as reassuring a tone as he can muster, squeezing lightly before stepping away.
It does the trick, or enough of it anyway, as Kelari's Force signature brightens just a tad in his wake. It's not the same, blinding sunlight as Cody's - instead it's something softer. A peek through the clouds on an overcast morning, alighting dew-covered leaves.
Obi-Wan resists the urge to scrub a hand over his face. He's not looking forward to feeling the inevitable day it dulls, but he knows it'll come soon enough. He's already watched it happen a thousand times over.
The doors to the shuttle open ahead of him with a smooth swish, the engine purring softly as the pre-flight checks are performed.
Stars, Obi-Wan thinks, allowing himself to wallow in one final moment of self-pity before he prepares himself for the rescue ahead. I'm so tired of fighting.
_____________________________
Cody blinks slowly, raising his head as much as he's able to. It's not much, as it turns out - his usual range of motion in any direction has been severely impeded by the sheer amount that everything aches. As expected, he's rewarded with throbbing pain as he does so, the cell that surrounds him swimming in his vision.
The dim, red lighting that floods every inch is new, and only adds to the disorienting factor of the whole thing. He makes note of it, idly. There must be an emergency on the station, then.
Interesting.
No alarms blare, so they haven't destabilised. Gravity is functional, and he's fairly sure he's breathing just fine, albeit through a few cracked ribs, so it can't be an oxygen leak either.
So what could it…? Ah.
He had seen Obi-Wan earlier, hadn't he?
A quiet breath escapes him - not quite a sigh, it would hurt too much to do that - and Cody allows his head to hang low once more. He doesn't know what Maul has planned, but he hopes desperately that Obi-Wan won't have been so suicidal as to come and try to save him.
It's too late for him anyway, loath as he is to admit it. He can feel it in every laboured breath, in the sluggishness of every thought as it fights its way to the surface. Helix had told him once "your brain knows when it's dying." Cody hadn't known what he'd meant at the time, but he thinks he does now.
Acceptance. Peace. A sense of calm that nestles deep within his ribcage and blooms outwards, numbing him for the embrace to come.
Obi-Wan will have come for him, this he knows as surely as he can feel the thrum of his heart, ever-weakening but still familiar and present, for now. All he can hold out for is that he'll turn around when he senses that it's a lost cause, get himself back to safety and not waste time trying to fix him.
Turn around… Cody's mind wanders briefly with the turn of phrase, spiralling and twisting down a semi-lucid rabbithole as he loses himself. There was a story that Obi-Wan had told him once, wasn't there…? Two lovers, bound in fate, one following another to save them from the jaws of death itself.
("I don't understand," Cody had declared, opening his eyes and being greeted with his Jedi smiling back down at him. Fingers carded through his hair, encouraging him to relax, though Cody only frowned more stubbornly. "I'm being serious," he insisted, and Obi-Wan only chuckled. "If he loved her, why couldn't he have trusted her? When he turned to look, he doomed them both."
"Oh, my darling Cody," Obi-Wan had replied fondly, bending his head down to press a kiss to his forehead, "it's not about lack of trust." He hummed, his fingers continuing to play with the few loose curls that drifted over Cody's forehead. "He turned because he loved her. There was no other way it could have gone."
Seeing that Cody remained unconvinced, he'd changed tactics. "Think of it like this. Yes, he 'doomed them both', as you put it, but he did it because-- well, the exact 'because' changes in each telling, but the core of it is - whether it was doubt as to the Gods' intentions, fear, or longing… he had to see her. Do you not risk a glance back to me on the battlefield, even when droids are approaching from the front, and you need to keep your focus on them?"
Cody considered this for a moment. "I'd try to contact you on comms, first."
"They don't have comms in the underworld, dear."
He let his eyes slip closed. "Well, they should." At the laugh this earned from his Jedi, he continued, not quite managing to tamp down a smirk. "Major security flaw, if you ask me."
"Of course, my ever strategic Commander," Obi-Wan replies indulgently. "You'll have to tell them yourself, when you go.")
Cody thinks about the story now.
He doesn't want Obi-Wan to follow him into death.
He would. He will. He has.
He purses his lips at the thought. Turn back, he wills, sending the instruction out and away from him as if it will do anything at all with the suppressant cuffs keeping him caged. Obi-Wan. Turn back.
It's not enough, of course, because nothing ever is.
An unknowable length of time passes - days? Weeks? Most likely, merely minutes. Cody hears the distant clash of lightsabers, and a cold spike of fear shudders through him, reminding him distantly that he's still alive. It's the only thing he's truly managed to feel in hours.
All Cody can hope, as the siren song of oblivion calls to him once more, is that his lover hasn't just doomed them both.
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Obi-Wan growls. Bleeding, crackling red pushes against blue, a violent dance so ancient no history book can pinpoint when it first began.
The satellite hadn't held a secret score of mercenaries waiting to take him out. Instead, it had contained only the single monster he was expecting. Maul hadn't succeeded in capturing him last time, but it seems he's hoping to correct that now.
The rest of the men are huddling on the docked ship, and Obi-Wan keeps as much attention as he can spare focused on blanketing them, muffling their signatures so that they radiate through as little as possible. Whether the Sith across from him can sense them or not is unclear, his own whirlwind of energy battering wildly against Obi-Wan's shields with reckless abandon.
Chaotic. Sloppy.
It should relieve Obi-Wan, to know that he's so distracted - it gives him an advantage, after all - but instead it only unnerves him. He's in the dark, missing a crucial piece of the puzzle. Why, exactly, are any of them here?
"Using my Commander as a lure is cheap, even for you," he snarls, hoping to taunt Maul into revealing more information than he intends. "Far from the clever tricks you usually try to play to corner me. But it seems you've been distracted by your desire for revenge, as usual." He dashes to the side to avoid an incoming jab, spinning his lightsaber to intercept the blow and forcibly turn Maul's weapon outwards and away from him. "It seems you haven't forgotten the failure of your last encounter with him."
Maul looses a low, near-feral sound from the back of his throat, his 'saber sputtering and sparking as it clashes against Obi-Wan's. The kyber inside cries out more than sings, the sheer pain of it echoing throughout the Force like an agonised scream. "He only matters to me as far as making use of your insulting excuse for a bond goes," the Sith snaps, "he is of no import to me beyond that."
Obi-Wan still can't sense Cody, despite the proximity - a fact that means he must still be cuffed, and likely still in that same cell that he had called from earlier. If he can get Maul to slip up…
"Likely," he snorts, forcing a veneer of arrogance over his features. "You're capable of little else than burning jealously that we're the only two to have beaten you. You wanted an opportunity to kill us both at once. You wanted--"
"What I want is for you to listen!"
The Force hums a melody of danger, underpinned with a desperation that causes Obi-Wan to miss a step. Their lightsabers meet again, and this time they stay, pushing against one another in an effort of strength that has the both of them panting.
It's then that Obi-Wan realises that the wildness in Maul's eyes is not borne from his usual sadistic glee nor cold malice, that the whirlwind in the Force is not only fed by his usual barrage of hatred. No, there's something much more unnerving driving him in this moment - pure, frenzied fear.
Obi-Wan stumbles back a step, losing ground as the Sith only gains in response. There's not much space in the room they'd begun this spar in, and he knows it won't be all too long before he finds himself pinned against the wall. With a grunt, he plants his feet as steadily as he can manage, drawing on the Force to aid him in holding his position.
Maul flashes his teeth, his eyes boring into Obi-Wan's with a ferocious intensity. "I come bearing a warning," he rasps.
Every rational part of Obi-Wan screams to take no heed of his words, to not let his guard down for a single second, but the Force betrays no deception. Instead, it practically bleeds with the Sith's honesty, his need for him to understand.
Against his better judgement, Obi-Wan stills. They're practically nose to nose, breathless with the exertion as their 'sabers remain crossed, alighting sparks between them. Even now, the slightest slip could spell doom.
"What are you talking about?" Obi-Wan demands roughly, eyes searching the Zabrak's urgently.
"Your Republic. The Sith. The great enemy you have been hunting for," Maul grits out. "Soon, very soon, this will all come to a head. Everything will be destroyed. And you have the power to stop it."
"I--" Another step back, disoriented and trying once more to stabilise. "What? And why should I trust that you of all people know enough to--"
"Do you not think it was fortuitous that nothing came of your little investigation into the traitor within the Senate? The bioweapon that was being created?"
Obi-Wan's eyes widen. He hasn't thought about that mission in months, and they'd passed along their findings, hadn't they? "Gregor--"
"The report was submitted, but no arrests were made. Now, why do you think that is?"
The Jedi stares. Maul is far more informed than he thought. His heart beats a frantic rhythm in his chest, and the Sith presses his advantage. Obi-Wan takes in a sharp breath as he feels his back hit the wall.
Maul's lip curls - in disdain, irritation, amusement? Obi-Wan can't quite tell - and all of a sudden he's stepping back, deactivating his lightsaber in a twisted show of peace.
Following suit might be suicidal. Obi-Wan does it anyway, a scowl crossing his features.
"Start talking," he orders, as Maul begins to pace back and forth. Silently, he notes that a number of the Vode on the ship are getting restless. He tries not to let the distraction of it sweep him away. "What do you mean, 'I have the power to stop this'?"
"You're the only one who could get him to lower his guard enough to make the killing blow."
Obi-Wan feels run ragged by all of this vagueness. His frown deepens, fighting the urge to scream in frustration. "Who?"
Maul stops his pacing mid-stride, his head snapping over the Jedi's way. His expression doesn't falter.
"Anakin Skywalker."
For a moment, the only sound Obi-Wan takes in is the blood that surges to rush in his ears.
"No," he says. It's all he can say, his mind refusing to process the implications of what he's just heard. "You-- no, he's the Chosen One, he's destined to fix--"
"So you know he is the key," the Zabrak hisses. "Destined to fix, or destined to destroy?"
"No," Obi-Wan repeats in a snarl, his lightsaber finding its way to his hand again, his thumb hovering over the activator. His heart feels like it's about to beat out of his chest, this-- this is wrong. "You don't know what you're talking about."
Maul watches him carefully, his eyes narrowing. "On the contrary - your closeness blinds you. My former Master has taken him, moulded him to be ready for his role. If you do not act now--"
Obi-Wan's eyes flash. He can't keep a tight enough hold on himself to prevent a wildness there from showing through. "Who?"
Maul shakes his head with a derisive snort. "Someone you cannot hope to defeat. But if you get Skywalker, then you can end this before it begins. This I swear to you, this I promise. You know I would not come to you with an offer of peace unless I was absolutely certain."
In his right mind, Obi-Wan might hear the logic of that statement. In his right mind, he might understand that the warning signs he's seen in his former student and the words Maul said line up all too well. But today, pulled taut to breaking as he has been, he's heard enough.
His lightsaber activates without much conscious input, crossing the room and holding the blade to Maul's throat. The Sith doesn't so much as flinch.
"Who?" Obi-Wan repeats roughly. His 'saber sparks as his energy rages, unchecked. "Who has Anakin in their grip? Who have I been blind to all these years?"
"My blade is not raised against you." Maul tilts his head placidly, his voice infuriatingly calm. "Kill me then, Jedi. Betray your rules."
Obi-Wan's hand shakes on the grip, and for a few, terrifyingly freeing moments, he feels a wave of pure hatred overcome him. He could kill him. He should. For Qui-Gon, for Satine, for Cody, for the mere suggestion that he should consider laying a hand against the boy he raised. He imagines the satisfaction of pressing blade through flesh, of finally not fearing to see his face in every shadow, around every corner…
And all too swiftly, the feeling recedes, and is replaced by a crushing sense of guilt. He lowers his lightsaber, taking an unsteady step back.
"You will not tell me."
It's a statement, not a question.
Maul raises a brow. "It is for me to deal with my Master," he replies, "and for you to deal with your apprentice. I cannot hand the Jedi the full victory in this, you understand."
"I will not kill him," Obi-Wan says desperately. "I cannot. Even if what you say is true, about him being controlled…" The thought makes him want to be sick, and his stomach drops like a stone. He sees Anakin in his mind, ever that bright and excitable nine year old that they'd found, that had become his. Even all these years later, it's all he sees. "I will not," he repeats, the words coming out choked.
"Speak to him, then, like a child," Maul huffs. "Speak to him and meditate on it, or whatever your ridiculous creed would have you do, and see that there is no other alternative. But know that you must act soon. We are running on precious little time. The pawns move into place, even now."
This is as much as he's getting, Obi-Wan knows. A vague warning, a request for him to kill his brother, and a refusal to share more. He'd almost laugh if terror wasn't coursing its way through his veins - it's so infuriatingly Maul.
He can't be right in this. It's inconceivable to Obi-Wan that Anakin could be the key to the plans of the Sith-- and yet…
Maul, for whatever reason, believes what he's saying to be true.
He has to talk to Anakin the second they're back, to set the record straight and figure out what's going on, but for the moment, there's a much more pressing matter to attend to.
Obi-Wan sets his jaw, assuming the familiar starting stance of Soresu as the Sith watches him, almost appearing bored by the display.
"You understand that as long as you refuse to tell who your Master is, I cannot allow you to leave a free man?"
The words seem to amuse Maul, and he smiles. "Ah. Good old Jedi nobility, hm? Then I shall have to force your hand." He flicks his wrist and a control panel at the wall lights up. The Force prickles with unease.
"Oxygen cutoff, room 7B," he comments idly. Fuck. Obi-Wan's chest tightens in panic. "I'd estimate your Commander has about barely minutes in his current state." He crushes his fingers into a fist, and the control panel sparks and sputters, powering down. "The master controls are in the hallway. Stay and fight me here if you wish, but I'll ensure that you almost certainly won't be able to get to them as well. Allow me to leave, and you should have plenty of time."
Obi-Wan curses under his breath, and Maul bows with a flourish. Outplayed and outmatched once again.
"Now, do think on what I've said, and if you don't mind…" the Sith flashes his teeth in a grin. "I believe I have a planet to run."
The Jedi only briefly falters in his stride as he rushes out to the corridor, trying to put all thoughts of the (now escaping, and it's absolutely his fault) Sith and his words out of his mind. There's too much to think about, too much to discuss with the Council, with Anakin-- but he can't worry about that just yet. All that matters now is finding and reaching Cody, before it's too late.
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Cody is only vaguely aware of the way the world tips around him when the chains come loose. He doesn't hit the ground as he expects to - instead, a pair of plastoid-clad arms lower him down gently. The paint adorning them is intricate - too intricate for his exhausted mind to fully comprehend, though he fishes for any sense of recognition.
Oh, the new medic. Fairly fresh from Kamino. He'd spoken to him not long ago, promised to take him under his wing.
"He's not responding."
"Kel--"
"I don't-- General, I don't know what to--"
"Kelari."
He's hysterical, Cody acknowledges listlessly. Poor kid, this would be one of his first on-planet assignments, wouldn't it? What a shitshow, being deployed in a live situation, only to have your Commander bleed out on your watch. That's gotta be a knock to his confidence.
Kel's a good medic. Timid perhaps, but talented. Cody's sad he won't get to see him blossom.
He's sad he won't get to see a lot of things.
All things considered, he thinks, he's lived longer than he ever truly thought he'd get to. He'd been hopeful he'd get to see the end of the war, to find a life beyond that, but perhaps he was always kidding himself.
Another pair of hands have taken over now, sliding over his face, cupping his jaw. Cody blinks lethargically, trying his best to focus.
"O… Obi…?"
The man hovering over him looks stricken, pale. His fingers shake where they trace over Cody's face. At his side, Cody feels his clothes being pulled at, hearing a panicked intake of breath. If there was any hope for him to make it out of this, that little sound has just dashed it completely. He watches as Obi-Wan raises his head to address the room at large. His hearing is still impaired, but he can just about make out the words.
"Everybody out except Kelari. Scout the rest of the place for any others hiding, then return to the ship. We'll join you shortly."
"I… 'm not…" Cody tries to start, but he's silenced by the grave look his Jedi gives him, shaking his head imperceptibly. There's a hesitation in the room, his brothers hovering anxiously by the doors before Obi-Wan clears his throat.
"That's an order."
Cody blinks slowly, feeling his mind begin to pull away into nothingness. Every shift of his body agitates another wound, and he groans.
He's so tired, so cold. He just wants to sleep. When he opens his eyes again, Obi-Wan has pulled him into his lap, fingers carding soothingly through his blood-crusted hair. He feels the telltale coolness of bacta being smoothed over his side, but his attention remains squarely on his Jedi. The lines on his face are more pronounced than ever, but Cody's not sure he's ever looked so beautiful.
Distantly, he thinks that he wants their minds to touch, but he can't quite find the strength to reach out to connect them. Obi-Wan seems to understand, and blankets him in warmth through the Force, the sensation comforting and familiar. Cody sinks into it, allows it to sweep him away in its gentle waves. He feels the depth of love that his Jedi holds for him, underscored by a souring note of terror and grief, though he does an admirable job at concealing it.
He forces air into his lungs, wills his mouth to find the right shapes.
"It'll be… okay," he whispers, and means it. He tries to smile, but the sight of it just seems to make his lover crumple.
"It won't be," Obi-Wan replies hoarsely. "Not if you--" he exhales sharply, as if all of the breath has been punched from his lungs, his eyes screwing shut in pain. "Force, Cody…"
Kelari, evidently picking up on the severity of the situation, politely turns his head away to offer them what little privacy they can get. Obi-Wan doesn't seem to mind the medic overhearing, so Cody follows his lead. If these are the last words they'll ever share with one another, he's not sure he'd have it in him to pretend, anyway.
Cody's tongue darts out to wet his cracked lips, filled with a sudden sense of urgency as he remembers. He has to tell him. "I-in the…"
Obi-Wan's eyes fly open to reveal the tears that shine in their depths, shaking his head emphatically. "Save your energy, darling, I-- I need to try--"
"The drawer--" in his quarters. He needs to look there, to find… Cody's sentence trails off into a slurred jumble, and he faintly feels Obi-Wan clutch him tighter. He wants him to see the crystal, wants him to know--
"You need to… I was going to ask you…" Cody tries again, but it's getting increasingly hard to think, to feel, to be. Nothing's coming out right, his jaw refusing to work. It's over. It's all over. "I…"
Slowly, he starts to fall still.
A small drop of something wet splashes onto his face, and he feels his body shake as Obi-Wan shudders, wrapping himself around him like he can prevent anything bad from happening to them.
Cody lets out a long, slow breath, barely registering the wheeze that escapes from his lungs as he does so. Obi-Wan only buries himself further into him, mumbling soft apologies into his hair over and over, like it'll make any difference.
"Ni ceta, riduur. Ni ceta. I wasn't fast enough. Don't-- please, don't go. Please--"
He'd stay if he could. He truly wishes that world could be. But there's no use fighting against things that can't be changed. In an ideal reality, he'd have a million more things to say to Obi-Wan, a thousand more days to plan together. With the last of his strength, he balls up the feeling, hoping he can shove it out into the Force.
With a final, explosive burst of pure, uninhibited love, Cody allows oblivion to take him away.
______________________________
. . .
. . .
. . .
Death doesn't feel like Cody thought it would.
In fact, he's rather surprised that it feels like anything at all.
He floats endlessly, in an indescribable space between nothing and something, all sense of himself unravelled and picked apart until he breathes only as the being at his very core. His soul, he supposes.
He'd never particularly considered whether he'd have such a thing.
When he looks down at himself, he's surprised to see that he seems to exist as a single, glowing point amidst the endless blackness.
Cody feels mildly put out by this turn of events. If he's a star, then it would have been nice to have been given something to have in his orbit. As it is, he has an unending expanse of nothingness to float in, with even less for company. A strange, unsettling limbo, and yet he can't quite shake the feeling that this isn't quite the endpoint, one way or another.
There's an insistent tug, drawing him somewhere with a gentle hand. A warmth suffuses his not-quite-body, a shiver running through him.
He's asking if you would like to come home.
Cody frowns - as much as one can frown when entirely incorporeal, anyway - and looks around the void in vain to find the source of the voice.
"Who?" he asks, his voice simultaneously a hoarse whisper and a full-throated roar that echoes into infinity. "Home?"
Neither are objective.
There's a very long pause, in which Cody can only drift. The universe, as it turns out, is a rather beautiful thing when it's not being ravaged by war. Becoming part of it suddenly doesn't seem as cruel of a fate as it once did.
He's being rather insistent.
There are two things that Cody knows to be true, in this strange not-world. The first, and most important thing to him in this moment, is that he's so very tired. The kind of tiredness that seeps into the marrow of your bones, un-knits you from the inside out. He hasn't slept well in a long time (did he ever sleep well, even once…?) and the prospect of a rest now is so incredibly, desperately seductive.
The second, is that something inside of him, nestled almost as deeply as the exhaustion, responds to the voice with a yearning desire to listen and do well. He digs around inside what was once his chest to pluck it out and examine it, and finds that it calls itself duty.
He supposes, after weighing one against the other extensively, that this rest will always be here for him. Whatever this oblivion is will, inevitably, come to greet him again one day. He doesn't expect the thought to be as comforting as it is.
"So what should I do?"
Follow where he leads. Let yourself be swept with the current.
And so Cody waits.
He waits for as long as he can bear, until the light in the cavity of his chest turns into a supernova, burning brighter and brighter and brighter until he can hardly stand to look anymore. He waits until he can feel the sensation of phantom limbs settle into place, until he begins to remember what is feels like to exist within the fabric of coherent space and time.
An urge tugs at him, pressing at the edges of his awareness as it begins to collapse down. A dull ache settles over him, a weight dragging him down into the suddenly incredibly cold, incredibly hard ground. Look, it whispers, look, look, look.
Cody opens his eyes, and sees an angel.
Obi-Wan is hunched over, and glowing like the sun. His hands are pressed to the stomach of a body - Cody'sbody, his body - and light spills from his hands, threading into Cody's skin and mending him back together, stitch by holy stitch.
Kelari is nowhere to be seen, and Cody has absolutely no idea how long it's been since he was last conscious, but he knows it's definitely been a while, given the state of his Jedi. His face is scrunched up in concentration, his desperation palpable as his hear dips into his eyes, and Cody feels-- he feels him slip.
Alarm floods him as he realises what's happening, and he manages to reach a shaking arm out to cup his lover's face, knowing he doesn't have much time to get his attention.
"Stop, please, you're killing yourself, you're--"
A tear-streaked, pallid face jerks up to meet his gaze. Obi-Wan is wide-eyed, hazy, and the world around them bursts with a world-ending sense of relief.
"Cody--?" he can't stop the way he sways, his head falling forwards onto Cody's chest with a sob. "Alive," he mumbles out between gasps of air, his fingers curling into the pushed-up fabric of Cody's shirt, clinging to him like he's worth every star in the Galaxy. "Fuck. You're alive. I did it, Cody, I-- Cody…"
His shoulders slump, and Cody senses the way the storm of gratitude, dread, love in the Force aborts suddenly as he blacks out from the utter exhaustion. It returns briefly a few seconds later, only to ebb away a second time just as swiftly as the first.
Cody shuffles as best as he can, testing the limits of his newly-healed body - still hurt, but no longer failing him. He just about manages to prop himself up against the wall, pulling Obi-Wan closer to curl into his side as they both take a moment to simply breathe.
Obi-Wan… Obi-Wan had brought him back to life. Cody swallows thickly, glancing down at his beloved Jedi and watching him tremble, wrapping his arm around him as tightly as he can without it hurting too much. The other man is no stranger to Force healing for incredibly minor afflictions, Cody knows that, but even going as far as fixing a broken arm or leg, or knitting closed a particularly deep wound, often left him weak and dizzy - so much so that they had agreed that he should never, ever attempt it in the field. Force exhaustion is a powerful, dangerous thing, and Obi-Wan had just taken his broken body and resurrected it like that's something a Jedi can even do.
He leans down as he hears him stir, grunting with the effort, and presses their foreheads together.
"Cody…?" Obi-Wan rasps hoarsely, his hand reaching up just enough to curl around the back of his neck in a weak keldabe.
"You kriffing idiot," Cody huffs, his voice thick with emotion as he returns the gesture. "We both might have died."
"No," Obi-Wan replies, his fingers tightening. "No. I knew… Th' Force told me…"
Cody reaches for the vambrace at the Jedi's wrist with his free hand, fumbling blindly for it and tapping out the code for emergency evac. They both made it - they both made it - and it's all thanks to Obi-Wan. If they do indeed survive to the end of this war, he knows he'll have a million debts to repay. Stars, he can't wait. A soft, disbelieving laugh slips from his lips, and he winces at the ensuing stab from his ribs.
"I didn't know the Light was that strong."
Obi-Wan's body sags, losing the fight against the weight of his eyelids. A wry smile twists the edge of his lips, the one he uses whenever he has particularly bad news to share that he fears might overwhelm them. "It isn't."
Before Cody has time to respond, footsteps thunder from down the hall, and the door to the cell bursts open. A score of their men arrive, erupting into shouts as they see the worsened state of their General - and their apparently back-from-the-dead Commander. He's surrounded in seconds.
"Spare any bacta?" He manages to quip, and he can tell that Waxer very narrowly avoids the urge to clip him over the back of the head for his effort.
"You've been spending way too much time with Kenobi," the Lieutenant grumbles in a way that's incredibly reminiscent of Helix, slinging an arm under his shoulder as a few others head over to help Obi-Wan up in a similar fashion. "C'mon, miracle boy. Let's get you both back to the ship."
Yes, Cody thinks, turning his head back to catch Obi-Wan's eye briefly, that sounds good. Their signatures mingle in the Force - love, affection, and on the Jedi's end, a quiet sense of shame. They take in a synchronised breath from their respective places in the cell, their minds overlapping in a way they rarely allow for when they're not alone, but neither of them can bear to pull away after what they've just experienced.
They remain that way over the coming weeks as they rest in the medbay together, their bodies in separate beds, but their minds remaining gently entwined. It's a comfort unlike any other.
No matter what comes, as long as they have each other, they'll be alright.
next chapter
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A/N: Wow. It's certainly been a Day today, but I really wanted to get this chapter out tonight regardless. Guys, can you believe it's been a whole year since this work started?! Thank you so much to everyone who's been along for the journey so far - it certainly won't be long until it's concluded. I hope you're all doing wonderfully, all of your comments and kudos legitimately make my days so, so much brighter. Comments, likes and reblogs genuinely make my whole day <3
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 8
Pairings: Codywan
Tags/Warnings: (spoilers for this chapter!!) getting together, feelings of inadequacy, miscommunication (very minor), explicit sexual content
Description:
The truth of the matter burrows deep into Cody’s skin, settling into the home it’s long-since made for itself there, 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.)
Link to read on AO3 here!
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A/N: It's the last day of the month so I technically got this one out on time, phew. Huge shoutout to my wife for proofreading this one literally like 30 minutes ago so I could get it out today :3
Wordcount: 10.4k
Prev chapters: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7
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Cody has learnt many unspoken rules about life in the GAR ever since he left Kamino.
First, the amount of caf needed to effectively run a battalion is always more than you think. No matter how confident you are when requisitioning supplies for the upcoming month, never forget to multiply the ordered amount of bags ordered by 1.3 times, otherwise you’ll run out on the final week of rotations without fail. If a particularly stressful set of missions are scheduled, change the multiplier to 1.5.
Second, shinies are a liability on shore leave. Make sure to assign one of the more experienced troops to surreptitiously watch them and drag them out of trouble if it arises. Subtlety is the key here - being too obvious about tailing will undermine the new trooper’s sense of agency in their first weeks out, but not doing it at all may lead to unwanted mess with the Coruscant guard. Better to prevent problems in the first place than have to call in more favours with Fox.
(Cody had appended a sticky note to the reminders on his desk two months into service, reminding him to under no circumstances ever again choose Boil or Waxer for shiny-watching duty. Their tendency for rule-breaking means that they inevitably end up joining the new kid in whatever trouble they were supposed to cut short, and Cody is inevitably left with an even bigger mess to untangle come sunrise).
Third, the Jetii are always right when they say they have a bad feeling about an upcoming mission or course of action - always listen to their concerns and try to work with them, even if it feels counterintuitive at the time.
And fourth, those unfortunate enough to be designated with the rank of Commander or higher never, ever get an uninterrupted night of sleep.
Entirely expected and on-cue, a shrill, relentless beeping cuts through the darkness of Cody’s room, startling him into wakefulness. The harshness of the sound is about as welcoming as an electrostaff to the skull, and nearly as likely to cause a headache.
Cody fumbles around in the dark for the source of the ringing, eventually finding the offending comm-link on his nightstand. It occurs to him in his half-awake state that he must have put it down in an unusual place last night, as it takes him a few blind swipes to find it - maybe he was just more tired than usual before he went to bed? With uncharacteristic clumsiness, he presses his thumb to the activator and brings it to his ear. “Commander Cody,” he greets, his voice rough with sleep. “What is it?”
Behind him, Obi-Wan lets out a sleepy murmur, curling tighter around his frame. Cody barely processes the movement, sinking back against the welcoming warmth instinctively.
“Oh– uh, right. Yes, Commander,” the voice on the other end says, surprise clearly colouring their tone. Cody frowns. Had they not called him? Perhaps it’s one of the shinies - they always do seem so intimidated by him when they’re first assigned, treading carefully until they’re used to him.
He’d have more patience for it if it weren’t currently 0530 hours in the morning with no missions scheduled for the day ahead.
“Spit it out, trooper. What is it that needs my attention?”
“Yes, sir. Sorry, sir.” there’s a pause on the other end. “It’s… it’s just the morning check in. I usually give it direct to the General, but given that you’ve answered his comms instead–”
Obi-Wan huffs out a tired chuckle, the soft exhale stirring the hairs at the nape of Cody’s neck as the Commander freezes in place, realising exactly what it is he’s just done.
Of course the comms were out of place - he’s not in his own quarters at all this morning. And he suddenly very much remembers why that is.
Cody does his very best not to swear.
“Oh– yes,” he manages, after a pause he worries is far too incriminating. “We– we’re making battleplans together.”
There’s silence on the other end. For some Gods-forsaken reason, Cody feels the desperate need to fill it. “Which is why I answered his comms for him,” he adds, superfluously.
“That’s… that’s fine, sir.” Another silence. It seems like neither of them know what to say. “Does General Kenobi still want to receive the check-in, then, or…?”
Cody is sure he’s bright red.
“No, that’s– that’s alright. We’ll be at the bridge in an hour.”
The trooper sounds relieved that they don’t have to endure this awkward conversation any longer when they reply, “copy that.”
The comm-line goes dead, taking Cody’s professional reputation swiftly along with it.
A soft groan slips from his lips, burying his face into the pillow beneath him, as if it might hide him from the questions that are surely coming their way. The arm slung across his torso tightens, Obi-Wan shifting so he’s lying practically half on top of him - Cody can sense his amusement, flitting through the bond without an attempt to disguise it.
“It’s fine,” the Jedi mumbles sleepily.
“It’s not,” Cody protests.
Despite his words, he can’t help the soft sigh of contentment that escapes him as Obi-Wan gently squeezes his arm around him, telling him without words that they’re in this together.
It’s… nice. Very nice, in fact. Cody isn’t entirely sure what it is he and Obi-Wan are doing, what it is he wants them to be doing, but… he’s content with this for the moment, however they’d label it.
It’s a strange thought. Cody hasn’t given much time to the question of what comes after a night like that - dreams of the future are not a luxury a clone like him tends to get. Still, he can’t help the way his mind drifts to the dangerous idea, the possibility of not only surviving to see the end of the war, but of a happy life beyond it.
Some of the boys had full fantasies picked out - picket fence house, kids, the works - but such indulgent daydreaming always felt too naively hopeful to him.
Still, he allows himself this one small moment of weakness. If, Cody thinks to himself, if he and Obi-Wan make it through this all in one piece, he’d quite like to stay. Maybe not in the GAR, or whatever is left of it then, but stay near the Temple on Coruscant. Near to Obi-Wan, near to where he imagines most of his brothers will settle.
His mind drifts.
What does a soldier do, when not in the fight?
No, that’s not quite the question. A normal soldier exists as an entity even off-duty - they have the life-that-came-before, something that they can look back on and build from when the fight is done.
The clones were born into the fight. They don’t get the privilege of a ‘before’.
So, Cody supposes, it’s only logical that he’ll have to look forward, try something new.
He’s always felt intrigued by art, ever since a mission tailing a mark brought him through a gallery on Corellia - though he doesn’t particularly profess to understand it very much. He’d always assumed his battle-worn hands were too calloused for the delicacy that a paintbrush requires, but then again, it’s not like he’s ever really tried.
A soft hum escapes his lips as he considers what pursuing that life might look like.
His smile is short lived, souring quickly as his thoughts crash down rather rapidly to the real world. The real world where they’re very much waging a war, and part of that war is going to mean getting up in an hour and facing down the trooper who just called them and acting like nothing is amiss.
“I’m gonna transfer to the 501st,” Cody declares to the darkness of the room.
“They don’t know, Cody, I promise,” Obi-Wan insists. A glance over Cody’s shoulder shows that the Jedi is frowning at the statement. “The 501st?” His nose wrinkles. “They’d drive you up the wall. They’re lawless over there.”
Cody rolls himself over in Obi-Wan’s hold so that they’re practically nose to nose. Gently, he reaches out a hand to smooth away the crease at the Jedi’s brow with the pad of his thumb.
“Rex does his best,” Cody counters. “They’re just… enthusiastic.” He pauses when Obi-Wan raises an unconvinced eyebrow. The crease quickly returns, much to Cody’s dissatisfaction. “Admittedly, they’re worse when they’re egged on by Skywalker,” he concedes.
“As I said,” the Jedi continues easily, a roguish smile taking shape under his beard. “Lawless.”
Cody decides to ignore the complaint. “I’m still going, to save me from the humiliation if nothing else. Maybe I’ll change my name, while I’m at it.”
“Mhmm.” Obi-Wan yawns, the playful indignation leaving him in an instant as he relaxes. Something flutters in Cody’s chest - he looks more at ease than he’s ever known him to be.
The bond radiates a feeling that holds layers of depth that Cody doesn’t quite yet understand how to untangle, but he knows enough to recognise that it altogether amounts to the feeling of safety. The Jedi smiles. “What would you change it to, dear?”
Cody rubs gentle circles over Obi-Wan’s side with his thumb, considering the answer that would elicit the most aggrieved response from his lover - his lover, it still doesn’t feel real - it takes him a moment, but eventually, he settles on something satisfactory. “... Ben,” he murmurs thoughtfully.
His effort is rewarded in the immediate narrowing of accusatory eyes.
“You can’t just steal my go-to alias–”
“It’s not like you’re using it right now.”
… Accusatory eyes that can’t help but crinkle at the corners. So much for being a good actor. “You’re ridiculous,” Obi-Wan returns, mirth filling his words despite an admirable attempt at remaining irritated.
“I prefer the term ‘hilarious’, actually, given the way you’re laughi–”
Cody’s sentence is promptly and succinctly cut off by Obi-Wan’s lips covering his.
Well, far be it for him to complain.
Fingers sink into hair, curling into soft strands and pulling impossibly closer. A gentle tug, and Obi-Wan sighs into his mouth, the sound sending his heart rate spiralling. Cody thinks he might like to freeze time forever here, if he had the choice. Well, he might, except–
Morning breath, he discovers rather quickly, is a strange sensory experience that the holofilms never mention. Not outright unpleasant, and certainly still preferable to not kissing the man in his arms, but strange nonetheless.
Obi-Wan gingerly pulls back, freeing Cody from his embrace in the process. He sheepishly grins, reaching up to push back the mess of hair that’s fallen over his forehead.
Stars, does he even know what he looks like? Cody wonders if the other man is ever aware of just how much simple movements like that make him feel dizzy.
“You’re right,” the Jedi muses. “We should probably at least brush our teeth before continuing.”
The ship’s artificial lighting has crept in enough that Obi-Wan can evidently see the confusion that’s overtaken Cody’s face.
“I didn’t say anything about– oh.”
Obi-Wan must have sensed his direct line of thought through the bond.
Cody suddenly sits up in the bed, feeling strangely vulnerable as the sheets pool around his hips - not at his nakedness or their proximity, though that’s certainly still a little disorienting to be faced with - but at the realisation that he no longer has anywhere to hide, not even internally. That… will take some adjustment.
“Sorry– it’s just unnerving that you can…”
He trails off, not wanting to say anything to offend Obi-Wan. It’s a privilege to be connected like this to him, of course, and Cody mentally chastises himself for his discomfort. The last thing he wants to seem is ungrateful.
At the same time, it’s disquieting to think that his privacy is forever forfeited by the bond, despite his appreciation for it. It’s a lot to get used to.
Obi-Wan tilts his head, remaining quiet for a moment as he watches Cody carefully. It’s a small measure of comfort to see no judgement in his gaze, only sympathy and understanding.
“Does it upset you?” the Jedi asks, his tone a familiar, careful neutrality. A negotiation tactic that Cody’s seen before during their many diplomatic excursions.
Cody can’t help the way he softens as he recognises what Obi-Wan is doing - trying to meet him where he’s at before offering a middle ground. Always so thoughtful.
A small smile tugs at his lips despite himself, and he hesitates only briefly before shaking his head. “No, I– I do like it.”
He pauses, well aware of the fact that the sentiment is woefully inadequate for describing just how strongly he feels about the bond they share. Despite knowing he should say more, he still finds that his tongue ties when trying to put the complexity of it all into words.
Until recently, his inability to talk about his emotions was a non-issue - a point of pride even, something he thought he was above needing to do. Learning to disentangle himself from the genuine belief the Kaminoans had instilled in him that clones are simply more resistant to feeling any form of emotion is… an ongoing process.
Regardless, he pushes through the discomfort, reaching out to take Obi-Wan’s hand in his. He stalls for time by brushing his thumb slowly over his knuckles, letting the warmth of the contact ground him. “I like it,” he repeats. “But… a little control over it might be nice.”
Obi-Wan smiles absently, reaching out to idly trace a feather-light finger over an old scar that dances across Cody’s ribcage. Not something won from battle, for once - this was earned during a particularly drunken night after the 212th returned home from their first campaign.
He was told by Wolffe, much later, that he’d apparently taken a tumble from a speeder, but it seems that no one remembers anything else about the incident, despite Cody’s subtle attempts at asking around.
He’d somehow woken up in the correct bunk, so it couldn’t have been all that bad. He’d profusely thanked the Stars for his rapid healing, though even that couldn’t fix the way he’d recoiled from the mere smell of Phattro for six standard months after that day.
“I forget that I’ve been learning to shield since birth,” Obi-Wan murmurs, “and that something of this intensity will be incredibly new to you.” He cocks his head, offering a soft smile. “I can teach you, if you’d like - some more advanced techniques than the ones you already know. I imagine you’ll pick it all up rather quickly.”
Cody lets out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. Of course he had nothing to worry about, this is Obi-Wan. He’d move mountains to help him feel comfortable.
He nods his affirmation with a gentle squeeze of his hand. “I’d like that,” Cody says, relief colouring his tone. “Not that I want to hold back from you, but–”
“But sharing your mind should be a choice,” Obi-Wan cuts in, sitting up beside him with a slow stretch. “I understand entirely, my dear.”
After leaning in to give his Jedi a grateful, lingering kiss, Cody wrinkles his nose, remembering exactly why they’d started this conversation in the first place. “Alright. Brushing teeth first, then teaching,” he declares, swinging his legs over the edge of the bed and reaching out to flick on the light.
Obi-Wan groans, covering his eyes briefly, but a soft laugh leaves his lips despite the noise of complaint. “Whatever you want, my darling.”
_____________________________
They spend the next half an hour sitting across from each other, going over the complexities of Jedi shielding techniques. Having someone actively test your mental barriers by pushing on them as if they’re something physical is a… unique experience, Cody learns - though Obi-Wan is careful to lead him through the experience slowly and carefully. While he knows he has a long way to go, the Commander leaves Obi-Wan’s quarters that morning feeling vastly reassured by the progress he’s made already.
Obi-Wan, on his end, promises to close himself off from the bond entirely until Cody feels a little less overwhelmed by it all - a fact that he’s immeasurably grateful for, even if he finds himself missing the warm, steady presence at the back of his mind as they go about their morning.
It would be a stretch to say that he had gotten used to it over the past rotation, but he definitely feels its absence.
Just for a few days, Cody thinks, and then we can start opening up to one another properly again.
He has absolutely no idea how the Jedi cope with experiencing this inherent connection to literally every living being that they come into contact with - he imagines that if it were him, he’d have torn half of his hair out by now.
Then again, he supposes, most of the Jedi he’s known with hair have started going grey a little before their time, his General being no exception to that rule. Perhaps empathy induced stress is just part of the package for them.
Today’s morning briefing, much to Cody’s relief, is a quiet one, and Obi-Wan is thankfully proven right about there being no dramatic line of questioning queued up for them about his supposed whereabouts last night.
Still, Cody does his best to ensure he’s standing as far across the table from the General as possible, glancing over to him only when necessary as they go over the day’s agenda. Every second of eye contact is starting to feel dangerous, and he’s all too aware that any slip up could give them away. There’s going against regs, and then there’s… this.
He's aware he’s being dramatic, but that doesn’t ease the worry that constricts his throat every time he thinks about it. Cody hopes the paranoia will ease with time.
They’d docked back at Coruscant overnight, and with the rare opportunity of a free schedule ahead of them, the two had decided to give their men a day of leave. It had been far too long since they were last able to offer some good news, and Gods know they deserve every reprieve they can get.
The order is sent out over comms as the meeting adjourns, and Obi-Wan is quick to clear his throat, making his way over to Cody’s side of the table. Shortening the distance between them feels like a tactically dangerous maneuver, but Cody tries his best to not think of it as such - if Obi-Wan is acting as if everything’s normal between them, he can do the same.
“I thought we might make our way to a shooting range this morning, given that we have found ourselves with time,” the Jedi suggests quietly.
Cody isn’t all too surprised. Obi-Wan has a tendency to choose to spend every waking moment of his day immersed in training or meditation - he often proposes they make productive use of their ‘downtime’ together, if it can even be called that. Cody, who has a tendency to itch whenever he’s forced to be still and not work for more than an hour, is always happy to go along with him.
He rolls his shoulders, powering down the display on the holotable as the last of the troops trickle out.
“Oh, I can go and set up the sims in the training room if you’d like, sir.”
He’s already mentally working through the drills they could run together. There’s not much variety in the duo sims, as they were mostly designed for full squad exercises, but that doesn’t mean they can’t modify something to fit their needs.
Obi-Wan shakes his head, offering a small smile. He places a hand on Cody’s shoulder, the weight of it comforting even over the plastoid of his pauldron. “That won’t be necessary, Cody,” he says warmly. “There’s actually one that recently opened on the surface that I’ve heard is fairly unique - if, perhaps, a little pedestrian for someone of your skills.”
Now that is unusual. Cody scrutinises Obi-Wan for a moment. Without the bond being open, he’s left to try and analyse his body language to decipher his meaning, the subtleties of the way he speaks. Running through a training drill outside of the barracks…?
He’s left with one conclusion - there must be something that his General needs to talk to him about that he can’t approach where the others might overhear - and that inherently suggests something serious. Perhaps a strategy overview of an upcoming mission, or some classified information that they need to go over.
It wouldn’t be the first time they’ve stepped away from the rest of the team to go over strictly need-to-know intel and plans, but for the life of him, Cody can’t figure out what this would be in relation to. It’s not like there’s much on the agenda for upcoming missions this week. Regardless, he gives Obi-Wan a cautious nod.
“Of course, sir,” he replies, heading for the door and trying to not let his racing mind get the better of him. “I’ll just grab my pack.”
_____________________________
It’s only mid-morning when Cody finds himself regretting his decision. He’s certain that has to be a record of some kind.
Staring down at the small, unmodified pistol in his hands, Cody wonders if it’s too late to fake being sick as a means to get out of this, though he knows Obi-Wan would see right through it.
He casts a scrutinising gaze over the blaster, taking note of the bolt of lightning painted over the side in a sickly green. His mouth presses into a thin line.
Obi-Wan is not quite successful at stifling a chuckle behind his hand, flicking his wrist in an agile motion to twirl his own weapon in an arc. His, for some reason, sports a decal of an electric pink rancor over the grip. “You’re not impressed by their offerings?” he asks innocently, gesturing enthusiastically around the establishment he’d chosen.
And what an establishment it is, Cody thinks sarcastically as he casts an eye around the room. The whole thing is dimly lit, and absolutely everything that’s not nailed down is splashed with stripes of fluorescent paint, glowing obscenely under the UV light that the entire range is apparently drenched in.
Arcade machines line the walls, low, bassy electronic music thrums through the air, and the employee uniform is an absolutely dreadful attempt at replicating military style. The second the two of them had walked in, they’d been accosted by one of the workers (and Cody had needed to fight against every trained instinct not to tackle them when they’d rushed over without warning), who promptly launched into an overdramatic, very rehearsed speech about how they must be customers who have arrived here to ‘save the Galaxy’ from ‘the invaders across the stars’.
Obi-Wan had seemed positively delighted by the sales pitch. Cody, on the other hand, had spent the next few minutes silently mourning for the credits his General had all too readily handed over the counter.
Literally any other venture would have been a better spend of his allowance. Hell, even throwing the pouch of credits out of an airlock would at least have been momentarily amusing.
Realising that his General apparently wants an answer out of him, Cody raises a brow, glancing down as he hesitantly looks the blaster over again. He’s unable to disguise his disgruntled expression - not that he’s really trying that hard to look thrilled. He offers Obi-Wan a shrug, trying to find the least offensive thing he can say. “It’s… not exactly a DC-15,” he mutters, and the Jedi snorts.
“It’ll do the job.”
“Mm.”
As the pair make their way to the back of the range where the targets have been set up, one question nags at the back of Cody’s mind - why here, of all places, for a secretive meeting? It’s obvious that some part of Obi-Wan finds this funny, but there has to be another reason for it, too.
While it seems like an… irregular choice of meeting place, to put it mildly, Cody does have to concede that if anyone were looking to listen in and pick up compromising GAR secrets, they wouldn’t be looking to hear them here, of all places.
Perhaps it’s so bizarre that it winds back around again to being genius?
Regardless of his reasoning, Obi-Wan seems insistent that they actually try out the Force-damned exercise, humming to himself jovially as he looks down the piss-poor excuse for sights that his choice of blaster has attached.
He shoots Cody a sidelong grin as the countdown for the session begins, an amused sparkle in his eye. “Well, my dear, shall we show them how a real soldier does it?”
Despite his bafflement at the whole situation, Cody finds himself wanting to smile in turn at Obi-Wan’s infectious, if very misplaced, enthusiasm. He rolls his shoulders, raising the - it would be an insult to call it a weapon, really - cheaply made equipment he’d been provided with up to shoulder level. His eyes narrow as he watches the vaguely humanoid shaped holo-targets approach.
Tacky, he thinks to himself, even as a smirk tugs at his lips. But what the hell. They’re already here, right? May as well make the most of it.
Cody nods, sparing a glance back at the workers at the entrance. No one else is here at such an early hour - it’s not a stretch to think their performance is going to be watched. “Let’s give ‘em a show.”
_____________________________
“On your flank!”
“Got it, thank you. Seventy five!”
“Ah– Sixty four.”
“You have some catching up to do, then.”
Cody snorts, relishing in the feel of the steady presence behind him as he lets off three more shots.
Sixty five,
Near miss - they dodged left when he expected right–
Sixty six.
“Not all of us have magical energy swords that can take down multiple clankers in one sweep,” he retorts. They turn a few degrees clockwise, not needing to check in with each other in order to remain back-to-back, instead just allowing themselves to be as in-sync as they always are. It’s as natural as breathing.
A shower of sparks answers Cody’s next shot, a pile of circuitry left exposed and twitching as it falls to the ground. Sixty seven. “I’d wager you’d be behind me if you were also using a blaster right now.”
Obi-Wan scoffs, his lightsaber buzzing as he continues to deflect shot after shot.
“An unworthy excuse, Commander. You’re almost as much of a sore loser as Anakin.”
The lighthearted jab has its intended effect. Cody narrows his eyes behind his helmet, knowing he can’t let such a wound to his reputation stand unchallenged.
Time to stop holding back.
He lowers his aim, angling a shot at the leg of a nearby B2 to send it surging to the ground. In the half-second before it completely collapses, Cody squeezes the trigger again, this time aiming right at the head - now exactly level with that of the B1 behind it.
The single bolt tears through the machinery with pinpoint accuracy, disabling both droids immediately.
He doesn’t wait to watch them fall, already locking his gaze onto his next target.
The droids may be literal machines, but Cody has the programming to match - and outdo - the best of them. Blaster raised, he takes one, two, three more shots in a brutally efficient arc, counting each head as they roll from the power of each hit.
They pivot together again. Clone and Jedi, an unstoppable whirlwind of power, even outnumbered as they are on the battlefield.
Cody smirks as another clanker falls in front of him. “Seventy three.”
“... Seventy eight.”
The smirk grows wider. “You’re slacking, sir.”
He hears a soft chuckle behind him. “Perhaps I’m just outmatched. I shouldn’t have prodded you so, even if the results were… admirable.”
‘Admirable’. Cody feels his chest glow at the praise, even as he knows it's well-earned. He turns sharply to take out a sniper droid that was aiming for Obi-Wan’s side.
“Make it up to me by buying a round for the boys at 79’s later.”
He doesn’t need to see his General’s face to know that he’s smiling.
“You know I wouldn’t miss it for the Galaxy.”
_____________________________
A timer goes off above them, promptly signalling the end of their half-hour slot.
Cody blinks slowly, as if coming out of a daze. Is it really over already? His eyes turn upwards to the scoreboard, displaying a bright red holo number beneath each of the names they’d given to the employee earlier.
Ben: 106
Fett: 106
Obi-Wan sighs beside him, placing a hand on his hip as he follows Cody’s gaze. “I suppose it was too much to ask that this decided which one of us was the most skilled sharpshooter, once and for all. Perhaps we’ll just have to keep coming back,” he teases, laughing heartily at the look of exasperation on Cody’s face.
Cody casts one last scathing glance around the loud, overbearing premises that surround them. “Respectfully, Obi-Wan, if we never came back here again, it would be too soon.”
They make their way back to the front of the building, handing their ‘blasters’ back over the counter to the worker on shift. Cody forces himself to smile politely as they launch off into a theatrical closing speech to try and get them to come back in the future, and he does his best to not visibly wince when Obi-Wan decides to leave a tip. He’s not entirely sure he succeeds, but he hopes trying counts for something.
As they step outside together, Cody squints against the bright light of the morning. The sunlight, weak as it is at this time of year, serves as a stark contrast to the dim atmosphere of the shooting range, and it takes him a moment to orient himself.
Obi-Wan walks alongside him, subtly steering the both of them towards a nearby park. Cody has always thought that that’s one of the best things about the surface - green space.
Kamino and Coruscant both hold their fair share of dull, grey concrete. Maybe it’s a simplistic sentiment, but Cody can’t help but feel like it’s nice to remember that nature exists, once in a while. Between spending time holed up in his quarters in the barracks, and then down in the Lower Levels on shore leave, he doesn’t tend to see much non-Sentient life in his day to day.
And this park is beautiful, if slightly over cultivated.
Their arms brush against one another as they walk, and though Cody wishes he could reach for Obi-Wan’s hand, he knows it wouldn’t be the wisest thing to do, out in the open as they are.
Still no mention of work, he muses to himself. Did he not think the range was private enough to talk? Maybe that’s why we’re coming here - more open space, though that also means more angles we could be watched from–
Cody shakes off the train of thought as he notices Obi-Wan watching him, fidgeting with the ends of his sleeves in a recognisable, yet rare, gesture. Is he… nervous?
“You’ve been quiet. Did you… enjoy yourself?” the Jedi asks tentatively, watching Cody’s reaction carefully.
Cody blinks quizzically over at Obi-Wan, not quite sure how he’s supposed to answer.
After a prolonged silence, the Jedi slows to a stop underneath a tree that’s covered in pleasing lilac coloured blossoms. He gazes up at it with a knitted brow, and reaches up to run a slow hand through his hair.
“I… know it wasn’t the most romantic of places, but I thought– well, I thought it might be more ‘us’ than the typical type of thing, and–”
Romantic?!
Cody opens his mouth, then promptly closes it again as his mind scrambles to catch up.
“This…” he frowns, entirely bewildered. “This wasn’t a covert strategy meeting?”
Obi-Wan’s attention snaps back to him, and he looks at him like he’s lost his mind. Cody wonders for a moment if he actually might have. “What– by the Force, no, of course not! It was a date, Cody!”
… Ah.
That would explain… a lot, actually.
After a prolonged beat of silence, the Jedi deflates, his shoulders caving forwards slightly as he sighs again. “Or… it was supposed to be a date.”
A wry smile tugs at his lips as he reaches out to pluck a single petal from a blossom on a low-hanging branch nearby. “Not a very successful one though, evidently, if you didn’t even realise that was my intention.”
Cody feels like he’s running on a delay. “You…”
He glances around them, making sure it’s definitely safe to speak freely before he steps off the path to join Obi-Wan underneath the tree. The dappled sunlight plays across the Jedi’s cheekbones, accentuating the sharpness of his features. “You wanted to take me out on a date?”
There’s that look again. Obi-Wan looks even more lost than Cody does, now. “... Yes?” he responds, as if it’s obvious. As if it’s not a big deal at all.
A date. A date. It doesn’t compute.
“Is that what we’re doing?” Cody asks, before he can think it through. He hates the way it comes out, hearing his doubt reflected back as the words leave him.
Alarm flashes across Obi-Wan’s face, followed by something dangerously close to hurt, though he quickly schools it. Cody immediately regrets his tone, biting down on the inside of his cheek, hard. Di’kut. Why would you say that?
“Is it… not?” the Jedi asks, softly. He lowers his voice slightly, his eyes falling to the petal he holds in his palm. “We shared a bed last night. We… shared more than that.” He returns his gaze to meet Cody’s - searching, hesitant.
Shit, shit, shit. Fix this. Quickly.
Cody reaches out to grasp Obi-Wan’s hand, clasping it tightly. “Sorry– no, I didn’t mean–” he exhales sharply, teeth gritting together as he tries to get his thoughts in order.
“You know exactly how I feel. You were in my head, when we…” he starts, biting his lip as he trails off. “I just– I didn’t consider it was an option because– I didn’t think I would ever… I never imagined anyone would want to…”
Obi-Wan takes in a quiet breath, his expression softening as he realises what Cody’s trying to say.
“You didn’t think anyone would want to take you out on a date,” he finishes for him. Cody nods, feeling his cheeks flush in humiliation, as he keeps his eyes trained down at their intertwined hands.
It’s embarrassing. He’s a fully grown man - a soldier, and a well-adjusted one at that. And yet here he is, feeling like a mere child, naive and foolish in the face of someone who knows what it’s like to be a normal person.
“I’m a clone,” he murmurs, feeling a sudden bone-deep weariness sweep through him. He’s so tired of feeling like he’s on the back foot when it comes to something as simple as existing. So very tired. “That type of thing is for other people. We don’t get… that.”
A gentle sigh leaves his lover’s lips.
“Oh, Cody.”
Carefully, Obi-Wan prises Cody’s hands from his. Taking the blossom petal carefully between his forefinger and thumb, he reaches forwards, nestling it in a curl just behind Cody’s ear. “You deserve more than you have been given - all of you do. I’m so very sorry that the Galaxy has denied you the kindness - the humanity - that all beings should experience.”
He gently lifts Cody’s chin, giving him a small, sad smile. His eyes burn with a sincerity that makes Cody’s breath hitch and eyes burn, though he blinks hard to force the feeling away. “I cannot make it right, darling, but I can promise this; I will do all I can to show you the love you deserve, for as long as you’ll have me.”
Obi-Wan Kenobi is many things.
He is kind, certainly, and his wit is sharper than any blade Cody’s ever come across - but while he is a genuine, honourable man, it is rare for him to express such heartfelt sentiment without at least a few layers of dry irony to hide behind. This, right here, is his Jedi stripped bare, and Cody isn’t entirely sure he knows what to do with that.
Words fail him. He wants to tell Obi-Wan that he loves him, wants to express just how much the promise means to him, but the words stick in his throat. He knows it’s alright, though - Obi-Wan’s expression tells him that he understands, without the need for him to say it aloud.
They return to strolling the path not long after. It’s still quiet at this hour, which helps to soothe Cody’s racing mind. Their earlier display was risky, and though he knows it’s unlikely that anyone saw them - let alone anyone who would recognise them - the fact that he doesn’t have to worry about being court martialed on top of everything else today is a relief.
When they finally stop once again, this time to observe the flitting motion of a songbird crossing their path, Cody finds he can just about muster up the ability to speak.
“As long as we avoid that particular shooting range in future, more dates sound good to me,” he says softly, his eyes trained ahead on the expansive view.
Obi-Wan’s hand finds his, for just long enough to give a supportive squeeze.
“Consider it blacklisted,” he replies quietly. The smile in his voice is clear as crystal.
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For someone with a lifespan as short as a clone’s, the passage of time is much more easily marked in notable events than in standard years.
One month after that day, Cody finally feels comfortable enough for the two of them to completely open the bond up again. The first touch of Obi-Wan’s mind to his after so long apart feels like coming home - a drink of filtered water after weeks of travelling alone in the desert. He wonders, awed, how he went so long without it.
Over the coming weeks, the two of them start to experiment with the bond, testing what, exactly, they can project to one another, and at what distances.
They quickly determine that it while isn’t as outright strong as a Force bond between two Jedi, it’s just as intense at close enough range. As soon as they’re a planet’s distance apart, however, the connection dwindles swiftly. Once there’s an entire system between them, they’re unable to feel each other at all.
(The exception to this rule, they discover after a particularly odd night, is that they tend to share strange, faint dreams of one another after a while of being physically apart. They haven’t yet been able to pin down exactly how and when this happens, though ‘it’s on the agenda’, as Obi-Wan puts it).
As far as what they can send through the bond goes, they’ve figured out that with a lot of concentration they can share vague impressions of memories, but nothing clearer than that. Obi-Wan feels confident that that’s something they’ll be able to work on, with enough practice and time.
Time. Cody likes the sound of that idea more with each passing day. The thought of a future.
Dates are something he settles into quickly, much to his surprise. He and Obi-Wan initially stick to a strict schedule of making time for one another in whatever way they’re able to biweekly (even this means simply calling each other and trying to find something to talk about something that isn’t work while they’re away on separate assignments. After a little bit of work, they’d managed to set up a secure Comms channel that flies under the Republic’s radar, though Cody is both diligent and paranoid enough to ensure he re-scrambles the frequency once per standard month).
The schedule, unfortunately, goes out the window rather fast, after a few back-to-back campaigns mean that they’re apart more than together. By this point though, they’ve set enough of a routine to mean they thankfully don’t fall out of the habit. As the months progress, the two of them continue to steadily make their way through Coruscant’s impressive list of cafes, galleries, and museums whenever they have time.
Cody finds that he likes the ‘normal’ dates the most - well, holofilms excepted.
Obi-Wan, as it turns out, is the Galaxy’s most terrible pedant wherever anything he considers himself an expert in is concerned.
Inaccuracies about anything - the Force, the Jedi, the biology of certain plant-life, ancient languages - they’re like tooka-nip to him, and he can’t help but comment about it. It’s sweet, endearing even, for about five minutes, but after the twentieth interruption to correct mistakes in the first quarter of a film, Cody often finds himself willing to do anything to shut the other man up before he drives him up the wall completely.
… Which often leads to other exciting results, but also means that Cody needs to take some of his very limited free time to re-watch whatever it was later on his own to see the ending. He hates leaving anything half-finished, terrible holofilms included.
Outside of the new routine of his relationship with Obi-Wan though, in the coming months everything around Cody continues as normal.
The war ramps up.
His brothers die.
New flowers bloom in The Negotiator’s nursery.
Life goes on.
Some days, though, are more memorable than others - mostly for the wrong reasons.
It’s an unfittingly sunny Taungsday when Obi-Wan has part of his heart ripped away from him. Cody does his best to provide comfort.
“I’m sorry about Satine,” he tells him. If there’s one thing Cody truly understands, if there’s one thing that links him and the rest of the Vode to every other Sentient in the Galaxy, it’s grief. Ironic, perhaps, that something so cruel is ultimately the equaliser they’ve been fighting for.
He doesn’t feel jealousy as he pulls his lover’s head into his lap, carding gentle fingers through his hair. Cody may not have the wealth of years of experience that nat-borns do, but he understands that love is complicated and many-layered.
“It’s alright,” says Obi-Wan, but the tremor in his voice says otherwise.
Cody can only hold him.
Some nights, it’s all they can do for one another. Other nights, they talk and laugh and are nearly able to forget that there’s a war outside.
At one point, Cody realises with a start that he can’t actually pinpoint the last time he slept alone in his own quarters. He imagines he probably should feel some measure of guilt at the notion - a past version of him would have fretted about being an imposition on his Jedi, about flaunting the regs so very blatantly after prizing himself on his strictness for so many years.
As it is, he finds himself feeling more guilty about not feeling guilty at all.
“After the war,” Obi-Wan tells him one evening, in the dark of night while they’re drifting off to sleep, “I think I might leave this all behind.”
Cody stirs sleepily, tucking his head onto the other man’s chest. “Where would you go?”
“Somewhere peaceful. Somewhere we could start a normal life.” The swiftness of the answer tells Cody that he’s thought about it before, probably more than once, and his heart swells in his chest.
“I’d like that,” Cody yawns. He knows, deep down, that he could never put too much distance between himself and his brothers once the war ends, but the thought of disappearing off with Obi-Wan to a remote farmstead on a planet he’s never heard of sounds like a nice fantasy, even if he can’t let himself believe that it could actually be real.
Maybe they’d adopt a tooka. Maybe they’d adopt children.
Probably not, in all honesty - he doesn’t think that kind of life is for him. But to have the option…
He tilts his head to press a kiss to the hollow of the Jedi’s throat, feeling the rumble under his lips of the hum he earns in response. “I’d like that a lot.”
The war demands everything of them, pressing down on them like a weight that only gets more suffocating with each passing day.
In the end, Cody thinks he only gets through it all because of Obi-Wan.
Obi-Wan, who has become a sanctuary from the front line. Obi-Wan, who has become his home.
Obi-Wan, who is currently struggling to focus, his attention stretched as taut as the rope binding his wrists to the headboard. He’s drawn back upwards by Cody’s touch at his jaw, encouraging his dazed gaze to return to him.
“Eyes on me,” Cody commands, keeping his voice soft and low. “That’s it. Now, cyar’ika - ground rules.”
The man beneath him shudders, his eyelids fluttering, and nods. “Ground rules,” he repeats. Breathy, needy.
Cody takes a moment to appreciate the sight below him.
Obi-Wan, above all else, prizes his composure, his ability to keep his cards secret while observing the table. It’s how he’s made it so far in the war, how he’s faced down death countless times and survived - his ability to remain unruffled, at least to the eyes of those who would face him.
It’s an incredibly effective intimidation tactic that only gets more potent the more the enemy seems to be winning. There’s nothing quite like being snarked at calmly by the man with blood dripping down his face to realise that you were never truly the one in control to begin with.
Which is why his decision to let go of that veneer of poise, to allow himself to be reduced to such vulnerability, carries such weight. The sheer trust he’s putting in Cody is enough to make the Commander’s heart squeeze in his chest.
Stars above, he thinks, watching as Obi-Wan obediently waits for him, I would do anything for you.
“I know you said you could handle this,” Cody begins softly, watching the Jedi carefully to ensure he’s listening, “but I don’t want to hurt you. I know we have the bond, but I need something more… concrete.”
He trails a slow finger over the side of Obi-Wan’s ribs, watching intently as his muscles of his torso jump and tense under the light touch. Force, he wants to ravish him, to take and take until he forgets his own name… but Cody forces himself to be patient, just for a few more moments.
“Say ‘kyrdir’,” Cody continues, meeting his Jedi’s gaze, “and we stop immediately, no questions asked. ‘Pare’, is a call to readjust.” He pauses, letting the words sink in. “Repeat that to me, darling.”
Obi-Wan swallows thickly, his breath stuttering slightly at the command in Cody’s tone. Cody feels it through the bond, whenever he makes… creative use of the tone he reserves for instructing his men - the way it sparks white hot flames of desire, pooling low and heavy within Obi-Wan’s gut, almost enough to make the Jedi forget how to think. It’s nearly always followed by a curling of shame and self-reprimand, embarrassment at his loss of self-control, but Cody is determined to chase that all away entirely before the night is done.
“Kyrdir is stop,” Obi-Wan repeats, his flush deepening, beginning to creep down his neck now. “Pare is readjust.” His tongue doesn’t quite wrap around the Mando’a syllables as easily as Cody’s does, but he’s been improving as of late. Cody rather likes the way the words sound, falling from his lips.
“Very good,” he praises, drawing out the syllables and drinking in the way his lover shivers in response.
With a critical eye, he examines his handiwork with the rope as Obi-Wan instinctively tugs against it amidst his light squirming. It’s tight enough to not have too much give, which was his main concern - but he doesn’t want him to hurt himself.
“Comfortable, mesh’la?” Cody asks, smiling as Obi-Wan nods breathlessly. “Perfect.”
Without warning, Cody lowers his head, his teeth finding the juncture between Obi-Wan’s neck and shoulder and biting down hard. Obi-Wan gasps, his body bucking at the sharp sensation. Cody flattens his tongue against the sting, soothing it quickly.
Hickeys are a dangerous thing to leave when discretion is key, but here, Cody knows, right here, is just the right place for a mark to not peek out under Obi-Wan’s robes, while still being close enough to cause a thrill.
In early days, the two of them were far too cautious to leave any kind of evidence, but Cody has since learnt exactly how far he can push without crossing the line. It sends heat thrumming through his veins to feel just how much Obi-Wan loves it, too.
He nips at the bruise he’s left before kissing down lower, to his collarbone, his chest, his torso. After each press of his lips, he scrapes his teeth against the Jedi’s skin, tasting him, marking him.
With each dig of his nails, each lingering bite, Obi-Wan shudders and keens beneath Cody. Pain, the two of them had slowly discovered together, is something the Jedi craves in small doses.
Nothing else seems to ruin him quite as quickly.
It makes sense, Cody thinks. When your body has become used to withstanding horrors that most people couldn’t even comprehend - blaster burns, stab wounds, electroshock torture - all feeling has the tendency to be numbed in intensity.
The choice then, to experience pain but to not be in any real danger, is a precious one to have the ability to make. It provides a sense of control for him that’s been all too lacking in the chaos of the past few years of warfare… and Cody is all too happy to provide.
He continues in his ministrations, dipping ever lower until he can sink to his knees at the edge of the bed, nudging Obi-Wan’s thighs apart. He doesn’t miss the way the Jedi’s breath hitches, the way he’s already such a mess for him. He’d needed this today, it seems.
Cody nuzzles his face into the inside of Obi-Wan’s thigh, nipping at the skin there as he gently presses the Jedi’s hips down into the bed below, holding him still with ease. Obi-Wan sucks in a sharp inhale as Cody turns his head to bite at his other thigh, ignoring his neglected cock as it twitches painfully.
“Cody…” Obi-Wan hisses, grunting as his lover licks a stripe up to his pelvis. He’s been hard for far too long, but Cody enjoys drawing out the tease. “Force, have mercy.”
“It’s not the Force you need to be begging, cyare,” Cody murmurs, smiling against his skin as he hears the other man whine.
When he raises his head to lock eyes with his Jedi, he can’t help but feel a thrill, pure electricity arcing through his veins as he takes in just how utterly helpless he looks, flushed and trembling as he’s bound, entirely subject to Cody’s every whim.
He’s sure he looks just as debauched, not even attempting to hide how hungry and wanting he feels as he sizes up his prey.
Tilting his head, he brings his lips close to the shaft of his cock, watching with a low, satisfied chuckle as Obi-Wan’s hips try to cant upwards against his hold. So very desperate. His breath stirs over the sensitive skin, and the Jedi’s eyes screw shut tightly. Precum leaks from the head, and it takes every thread of restraint that Cody has not to lean in and taste it… but he can’t, not just yet.
“Still holding back?” he murmurs, tutting softly. “You know I won’t do anything until you ask nicely, darling.”
Obi-Wan’s body twists as much as he’s able, sweat breaking out across his brow as he takes in a shuddering breath.
A silence stretches between them, but Cody is patient. He has all the time in the Galaxy tonight, and he’s well aware that he has the upper hand.
It takes less time than he would have expected for Obi-Wan to give in.
“Please…” he tries, barely more than a breath.
Cody fights down a smile with considerable effort. With an unconvinced hum, he feigns boredom, drawing a slow, teasing circle over Obi-Wan’s hipbone.
“Are you sure that was the best you could do? You don’t sound like you want it very much,” he muses, delighting in the utterly wrecked moan that slips from his lover.
Obi-Wan curses harshly in a language that he doesn’t recognise.
“Please, Cody,” he begs, but it’s still not enough. Cody knows that he knows it, too. He narrows his eyes in faux-disappointment.
“You can be more specific than that, darling,” he chides, moving to hover just over the head of his cock, barely inches away. “Please what?”
The Jedi grits his teeth, and Cody can sense that his mind is an utter mess of incoherency right now. He loves knowing that he has this effect on him - he’s addicted to it. If they only had the time for it, Cody would draw this out for days.
“Please, Cody, just kriffing take me.” Obi-Wan’s words are hoarse, raw with need, and Cody finally decides he should have mercy on the poor man.
Lowering his head, he licks a stripe up the underside of his cock, his tongue slowly tracing the prominent vein that resides there.
Obi-Wan practically mewls at the relief of it, and Cody feels a sudden surge of power flicker through their bond. Above them, the room’s overhead light sparks and sputters.
Cody pauses, the cessation immediately dragging an aggrieved whine from the Jedi’s lips.
“That– was that you?” he asks, glancing up to the light with an amused grin.
When they had been setting this up earlier, Obi-Wan had shown Cody a way to bind his wrists just-so in a way that would prevent him from making use of the Force… but it seems his powers are exerting themselves in other ways now.
It takes a moment for Obi-Wan to respond, his eyes flickering up, confused, to follow Cody’s gaze. He fights for coherency, his eyes glassy as he frowns. “I… was what me?”
Cody snorts, moving closer once again to continue in his attentions. He might enjoy pretending that he’s ever-patient in the face of his lover’s neediness, but in reality nothing could be further from the truth. Now that he’s had a taste, he can’t keep himself away for much longer.
“It doesn’t matter,” he assures Obi-Wan, taking him shallowly into his mouth and swirling his tongue around the weeping head of his cock. It does the job to distract him - the Jedi’s question is all but forgotten as his fingers curl into his palm and his body shakes with the force of his pleasure. Cody’s eyes flutter closed in bliss - Stars above, he tastes divine.
With a low groan, he pushes his head down further, taking him as far as he comfortably can, relishing in the feeling of the thick weight of him on his tongue.
Cody swallows around him, and the Force bond bursts with stars, heat and desire and the feeling of being alive coursing through the both of them in equal measure.
After a moment of weighing up his options, Cody sacrifices his control over Obi-Wan’s movement to remove one of his hands from where he was pinning his hips, bringing it down to stroke himself languidly as his head begins to bob up and down, slowly at first, but gaining in pace rather rapidly.
Each moan that slips from his Jedi’s lips, each curse and breathy gasp of his name - they all send him spiralling, dizzy with the need for them both to come apart just like this.
It doesn’t take long for the telltale buzz through the bond to intensify, the sign that Obi-Wan is teetering on the knife’s edge of ecstasy. Despite it all, the Jedi’s last vestige of control holds him back, and Cody feels a gentle prod at his mind, a shaky, desperate request for permission.
His heart flutters. Even now, pulled apart as he is, Obi-Wan is checking in on him. He returns the feeling through the bond, sending back a soft, loving affirmative in response.
And just like that, the world shatters around them.
Obi-Wan’s body arches upwards with a soft cry, his entire body tensing as Cody eagerly takes everything he has to give. He tightens his grip on himself, spilling himself over his hand with a low, broken groan.
They stay locked like that for a moment, breathing heavily as they float, untethered. Love and affection drifts almost lazily through the bond from one to the other as they slowly come down from their shared high.
With a slow, contented sigh, Cody pulls back, squeezing Obi-Wan’s hip apologetically as he winces at the overstimulation.
He stands, sparing just a moment to stretch before he moves to the other side of the bed to untie Obi-Wan’s wrists. He presses a lingering kiss to the heel of each of his palms as he frees them, leaning over the bed to capture the Jedi’s lips in his.
“You doing alright?” Cody murmurs. He knows the answer - they have the bond, after all - but he always likes to ask, regardless.
Obi-Wan smiles sleepily up at him through his lashes, rubbing gently at his wrists. “Very much so, darling. And you?”
Cody nods. “Very much so,” he echoes. With one final kiss, he straightens up, turning to head to the ‘fresher. “I’ll just be a moment,” he says softly.
Cody returns from the bathroom a few minutes later to find Obi-Wan with his robe draped around himself, hunched over the edge of the bed as he gazes at the floor.
Unease prickles throughout Cody’s nerves, sensing the way the energy of the room has changed.
Even worse, he can’t feel Obi-Wan through the bond as strongly as he usually can - he’s shielding from him.
Something is very wrong.
“... Cyare?” he asks softly, stepping forwards but leaving enough distance between them that Obi-Wan doesn’t feel crowded. “What is it?”
The Jedi doesn’t respond for a long moment, a muscle in his jaw jumping as he tenses.
“I have a mission that I’m leaving for, first thing tomorrow morning. I… wanted to tell you earlier, but I couldn’t,” he says eventually.
Cody waits for an elaboration, but it doesn’t come. He risks taking a step closer to where he’s sat, and Obi-Wan looks up at him. His expression is an attempt at neutrality, but Cody knows him better than that. There’s worry, and something akin to regret in his eyes that he can’t quite keep at bay.
“Even to me?” Cody presses. Obi-Wan looks away, closing his eyes.
“Especially to you.”
The ominous words hang in the air for a few moments, Cody trying and failing to decipher the meaning behind them.
“... Right. So you won’t be joining the rest of us on our scouting excursion in the Outer Rim tomorrow?” Cody asks. He lets out a wry chuckle that he doesn’t really feel, trying his best to bring a smile to Obi-Wan’s face. “Well, I can’t say you’ll be missing out much. Maybe I’m even jealous, routine exploration is hardly ever exciting.”
Obi-Wan remains quiet.
The stoicism breaks momentarily as Cody reaches out to cup his cheek, the Jedi leaning into the touch with a soft sigh. He turns his head to press a kiss to his palm. “I love you,” he whispers, breathing the words into Cody’s skin.
A frown tugs at Cody’s brow, a worry digging its claws into him that he knows he won’t be able to abate. This isn’t like Obi-Wan at all. Is he worried he won’t come back from an assignment? Even in his worst moments, he’s nothing if not cocky about his abilities, and Gods know he’s not scared of the idea of his own death.
“I’ll bring you back something from the Outer Rim,” Cody says, relieved to see the smallest upturns at the edges of his Jedi’s lips.
“I don’t believe the cluster you’re surveying will have many markets.”
It’s true - the 212th is being sent en masse to a nearly entirely unoccupied planetary system for two standard weeks, to ‘survey and analyse’ the local areas for potential locations to set up a secret Republic outpost.
Cody had argued, when the order came in, that it was a baffling waste of an entire Battalion’s resources - surely this was the Exploration Corps’ area of expertise, after all - but apparently they were the only ones available to carry out the mission. Obi-Wan had shrugged when Cody had tried to ask him about it.
The silver lining at the time had been the promise of two weeks away on a low stress mission, giving the two of them some sorely needed private time together… but now it looks like it’ll just be Cody and their men.
He hums thoughtfully, mulling his options over in his mind.
“There are supposed to be crystal caves on one of the planets, right?” he muses. “I’ll bring you back something from one of those.”
That draws out a full smile from Obi-Wan, and he reaches out to wrap his arms around Cody’s waist. His mental walls lower just slightly, enough for Cody to feel gratitude, safety, I don’t deserve you.
Cody closes his eyes.
“I love you, too.”
He’d ask Obi-Wan to keep himself alive, to come back home safely to him, but they don’t make promises like that to one another. They know all too well that tomorrows aren’t guaranteed.
Instead, he leans down to press a kiss to the top of his head, breathing him in.
There’ll be time for worrying later, but right now it’s late, and they both have missions to head out to in the morning. Sleep needs to be their priority.
Regretfully, he extracts himself from the embrace, leaning down to capture Obi-Wan’s lips in a chaste, yet tender kiss.
“I’ll make us some herbal tea,” he promises, and his Jedi nods slowly.
“Thank you, darling.”
We’ll be alright, Cody thinks to himself. He takes a calming breath as he busies himself with making their teas, trying to let go of the concern that hangs over him like a cloud. No matter what it is that Obi-Wan can’t tell me, we’ll face the outcome together.
We always do.
next chapter
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A/N: Just as a heads up, I'm going to be fucking heavily with the established canon timeline for next chapter to jump some missions (or one particular mission) around to a different chronological order. I figure if Disney can do it then I can too lol :)
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 4
Pairings: Codywan
Tags/Warnings: (for current arc) slow burn, fake dating, only one bed, general angst and pining, realising feelings, tending to wounds, AO3 rating is E for future chapters
Link to read on AO3 here!
Description:
The truth of the matter burrows deep into Cody’s skin, settling into the home it’s long-since made for itself there, 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.)
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A/N: Every like and reblog on my previous chapters have had me absolutely squealing, kicking my feet etc. <3 I recently realised this blog had asks disabled for some reason, so I've rectified that!! I have a oneshot in the works that will probably be posted before chapter 5, so keep an eye out for that, too!
Shout out to @whenyourfavouritedies (their AO3 here) for beta'ing as always!
Wordcount: 7.3k
Prev chapters: 1, 2, 3
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In the half hour or so the two men have spent on the cliffside, the wind has picked up again, and violently. Despite the usually tropical environment of the planet around them, the temperature has been dropping harshly along with the setting of the sun and the encroaching storm.
To say the conditions are miserable would be an understatement.
Obi-Wan and Cody remain unmoving in their positions, only occasionally breaking the silence between them to share quiet murmurings of intel over the howl of the wind.
Staying perfectly still as they have been, has both men growing numb, losing sensation in their legs from remaining knelt for so long.
Neither of them, of course, let it show. They’re professionals, after all.
“The atmosphere is more tense than it was a few seconds ago. Something’s changed,” Obi-Wan says softly, brows pinching together as he concentrates on the minute shifts in the Force around him.
Cody continues to watch the exchange down on the beach with a sharp eye, shifting the scope of the sniper rifle subtly to track Barrek as he paces back and forth. He pauses for a moment to allow Obi-Wan to adjust, the Jedi briefly rolling his shoulder to alleviate some of the discomfort that comes from being used as a living blaster stand.
On the beach, a durasteel briefcase changes hands among the group, eventually ending up in the possession of a relatively short Trandoshan man. He shifts uncomfortably as it’s pressed into his hands, inspecting the locks incredibly carefully, almost as if he doesn’t want to tilt the case too much or subject it to any sudden movements.
It is not, in Cody’s opinion, a particularly good sign.
“He looks scared,” Cody comments.
“He is,” the Jedi confirms. “Why though, I can’t say.”
Cody frowns as he observes just how delicately the Trandoshan is handling the package, his mind working overtime to figure out what could be inside.
“They wouldn’t have put a bomb in there,” he states slowly. It’s a ridiculous suggestion, and yet Cody can’t quite wrap his head around what else would cause such tension in the group below them.
“Certainly not,” Obi-Wan agrees quietly. “But there must be something volatile inside, of that I have no doubt.”
A hush falls over them once more as the group’s discussion continues. Barrek is approached by another individual attending the deal - the Trandoshan’s assistant, they’d pieced together from watching their earlier interactions - who pulls out a small datapad and taps away at it for a moment.
“Credit wiring,” Cody mutters. “Barrek’s part is done, and it looks like the party’s breaking up. All that’s left is for us to intercept.”
Obi-Wan dips his head in acknowledgement, keeping the movement minimal so as to not jostle the rifle too much. “Just… keep an eye on the Trandoshan. I’m sensing there’s– wait.”
Cody draws back from the scope to look at the other man, trying to ascertain what it is that’s caught his attention.
He barely has time to process the way his Jedi’s eyes suddenly snap open, a sharp shout of warning leaving his lips.
In seconds, he finds himself tackled to the ground, the back of his head making contact with a sharp and unfortunately situated rock as Obi-Wan’s body covers his own, pressing him securely into the damp grass.
Cody groans, ears ringing and eyelids fluttering as he tries to make sense of the disorienting shift in perspective. Barely a second later, a blaster shot flies overhead, exactly where the two had been kneeling seconds before.
Cold-bitten hands cup his face, forcing his gaze upwards to Obi-Wan. The Jedi’s eyes are locked on his, wide and urgent as the world spins.
“Commander. We need to move,” Cody hears him say, his voice muffled and distant from the blow to his head.
Obi-Wan’s fingers press a little harder into his cheeks, his jaw tense with worry. “Cody,” he tries again.
Cody blinks hard, shaking his head to dispel the lingering daze. He’s relieved to feel his senses returning to him more and more with each second that passes, though his head still pounds from the impact. He brings up a hand to check the back of his head, relieved to find that he doesn’t seem to be bleeding.
His eyes snap to Obi-Wan’s, the danger of their situation flooding back to him in an instant.
Spying on the meeting. Being shot at. Need to run. Right.
Cody manages a small nod, and Obi-Wan rolls off of him just as another shot rings out overhead.
“Escape routes?” the Jedi asks, the two shuffling a little further down the hillside to slip out of sight of the sniper on the beach. Before Cody can respond, Obi-Wan grimaces, shaking his head. “Nevermind - I can feel that the Trandoshan is retreating with the package. Blast it all.”
“Which way?”
Obi-Wan closes his eyes for a moment, his brow furrowing in the way it always does when he’s urgently searching through the Force. “Back down to the resort.”
“Then it looks like we’re following,” Cody murmurs.
They slip a little further down the hillside until they’re sure they can safely stand without taking a blaster shot to the head. Obi-Wan stands first, before turning to pull Cody up with him, holding onto his arm a little longer than strictly necessary.
Cody can see the concern in his eyes, and he wishes that the Jedi would for once understand that they don’t have the time to worry about his health while they’re in such a perilous situation. He can get himself checked over at the medbay when they’re safe. Before then, he is not a priority.
“How’s your head?” Obi-Wan asks, an apology clear in his expression. Cody starts off into the darkness ahead of them, giving the Jedi a quick nod over his shoulder as he does.
“It’s fine,” he insists, sounding more certain of that fact than he actually is. “We need to go.”
Obi-Wan sets off after him with a sigh that carries the weight of all of the previous times they’ve clashed on this very issue.
“You’re going straight to see Helix when we get back to the venator, Cody. No detours,” he says firmly.
“Is that an order, sir?” Cody responds dryly, ducking down to avoid a piece of debris flying his way.
“Undisputably so, Commander.”
Cody can’t help but smile a little at that. Obi-Wan has never much been one for pulling rank, even early on in the battalion’s deployment. The one exception he has always made - will always make, Cody suspects - is when it comes to the safety of his men.
There are many Jedi in the Order who take a blanket ‘mission-first’ approach to jobs, and Cody doesn’t blame them - there is a Galaxy-wide civil war, after all, and calls have to be made. His General, however, is not one of them when he can help it.
The two break into a sprint back towards the resort as the wind whips up around them, both men laser focused on salvaging whatever they can from this mess.
The question remains of how they were even spotted in the first place, how long they’d been noticed for, but that’s a matter for later. First of all, they need to get out of this with their lives intact - and most importantly, intercept the briefcase in the process.
They hear another shot go off in the distance, the ensuing blur of red plasma disappearing off into the darkness to their right. Between the storm-darkened sky and the force of the gale around them, their pursuers are thankfully at a disadvantage. A pleasant rarity for them.
“You always take me to the nicest places,” Cody calls over the howl of the wind to Obi-Wan.
His Jedi barks out a laugh in response, mirth twinkling in his eyes even through the dim light.
“Only the best for you, my dear.”
______________________________
When they make it back to the hotel, Obi-Wan keeps a hand on the small of Cody’s back as he quietly directs the both of them through the winding hallways, trying to keep their steps swift yet not in a way that’s too conspicuous to the guests they’re passing by.
Acting suspiciously when they’re so close to the end of this would be a foolish thing to do. Best to sacrifice some speed for the sake of their cover.
“To our left,” the Jedi informs him softly. “He’s gone back to one of the rooms.”
Cody nods subtly in acknowledgement, smiling politely as they slip through a group of guests mingling in the corridor.
“Well, we’re certainly being led into a trap, then,” Cody mutters through gritted teeth.
“Ever the pessimist.”
“Realist,” he corrects as they turn a corner, speeding up their pace just slightly when they see they’re alone. “And you’re telling me you think I’m wrong?”
Obi-Wan gives him a wry smile. “Of course not. I just like to keep an open mind in the event of a welcome surprise.”
Cody raises a brow. “When do we ever have luck like that, sir?” he asks, dryness bleeding through his tone.
Obi-Wan’s smile turns to a full grin. “Oh, it hasn’t happened yet, dear Commander, but I always hold out hope.”
They push through into the room Obi-Wan’s senses have led them to, the door left ajar by its previous occupant - another tally mark for the ‘definitely a trap’ column.
Cody has his blaster in hand and levelled immediately, his sharp eyes scanning the room for any sign of movement.
… Movement that doesn’t seem to be happening.
Lowering his pistol, the Commander shares a glance with his General. No one’s here. The room is empty, save for the briefcase they’ve come here for, laid out on the bed like it’s just any other piece of luggage.
Obi-Wan cautiously steps over, slowly picking it up and turning it over in his hands while Cody sweeps the room.
In his periphery, he catches a glance of something red and slick staining the carpet underneath the bed. He frowns, crouching to get a better look.
“Blood,” he says under his breath.
“Or wine,” the Jedi says breezily, still inspecting the case.
“Wine doesn’t have this consistency.”
“Alright,” the Jedi concedes, glancing over to follow Cody’s gaze. “A thick wine, then.”
Cody meets the Jedi’s gaze with a huff, the two breaking out into a smile despite the severity of the situation. He returns his attention under the bed, flicking a switch modded on the end of his blaster to activate a small flashlight.
His light is reflected back to him in the glassy-eyed stare of the Trandoshan from the beach, his features twisted in a permanent expression of fear. They arrived quickly - he must have been killed mere minutes ago.
Cody grimaces, straightening up. “It looks like the trap might not have actually been set for us,” he mutters. “Poor bastard. They must’ve had a traitor amidst–”
Creaking behind him, the door to the fresher swings open.
Before he has a chance to turn, the ever-so-familiar sensation of a cold metal barrel of a blaster presses against the back of his head. Cody sets his jaw.
Obi-Wan, from a few steps away, inclines his head slightly towards their visitor. He looks far from surprised at this development.
He offers them a placid smile, though Cody can tell from the way his breathing has become just a touch more shallow that he’s on full alert, ready to spring into action the second he has the opportunity.
“I wouldn’t recommend that course of action, Lia,” Obi-Wan says, his tone low and calm. “You must know it won’t end well for you.”
“Maybe,” the voice behind Cody confirms - very clearly that of the Togruta they’d met at lunch yesterday. Damn it. How had he not realised…? Of course she was in on the whole thing. More than that, even - it seems she’s actively double crossed the rest of the group. She knows who they are, so she’s likely been watching them since their arrival. “But at least I’d take out a thorn in the Separatists' side while I’m at it.”
The blaster presses more insistently against Cody’s head, exacerbating the throbbing pain that remains from earlier. It seems to be slowly getting worse, but perhaps that’s just the stress of the moment.
Biting down a wince, the Commander remains still, eyes locked on his Jedi as the other man negotiates for his life.
“And risk compromising the package in the process, after you’ve gone to so much trouble to ensure you’re the one to leave with it?” Obi-Wan gestures to the briefcase in his hand. “I must warn you that if my compatriot is harmed, I would have no qualms with crushing the contents of this, whatever it may be.”
Cody could spin around, attempt to disarm Lia, but such an action would carry a high risk - too high of a risk for such a small space. Undoubtedly, she’d squeeze the trigger at the first sign of movement, and a stray shot would go off. Even if he were to avoid getting hit in that scenario, the noise would attract the attention of every single member of security personnel in the hotel.
While they could definitely deal with that outcome if it arose, it would be far more preferable to sort this out quietly.
It might seem strange to one less used to high-stress missions, but Cody doesn’t feel particularly afraid, despite the adrenaline coursing through his veins. He’s scraped through worse odds. He will again.
If anything, he feels calm, centred, watching as Obi-Wan drums his fingers lightly against the edge of the briefcase - a restless tic to anyone else’s eyes, but Cody knows better. His gaze tracks as the Jedi surreptitiously taps out a code against the metal, ‘NOT YET’. He meets Obi-Wan’s gaze as it lands on him, blinking hard to show he’s understood.
“And how, exactly, would you even get access to the inside?” Cody hears Lia sneer behind him. “It’s durasteel, and locked with three separate–”
“You forget,” Obi-Wan interrupts coolly, “that I am a Jedi. I could reach in with the Force and simply destroy everything you’ve worked so hard to get.”
Decidedly not an application of the Force, Cody knows, at least not without spending a lot of time meditating on the case and its contents, but Lia doesn’t need to know that.
The lie seems, thankfully, to give her pause.
“... Fine. Hand it over, then, and you’ll get him back” she orders, her tone sharp with tension. Obi-Wan’s eyes flick briefly to the blaster behind Cody - decidedly not a good sign. Cody hopes she isn’t reflexively tensing her finger around the trigger, but with how agitated she sounds, it’s likely.
She can’t be that experienced if her trigger discipline is this sloppy, but unfortunately for Cody, this just puts him at more risk. He can practically feel the danger levels in the room rising with every second that ticks by.
“You’re stressed,” Obi-Wan murmurs, his gaze turning to Lia. His expression remains stoic, even as his fingers tap once again against the briefcase - ‘GET READY’. Cody flexes his hand at his side, waiting for the signal.
“Stressed?” Lia barks out a sardonic laugh. “Yeah, I’d say this is pretty high stakes for all of us. Hand. Over. The case,” she repeats in a low growl.
Obi-Wan tilts his head, observing her for a moment, calculating. He doesn’t make a move to step closer, or to start bringing over the briefcase. “It’s because of Barrek,” he states softly, watching her reaction to his words. “Isn’t it?”
Cody understands the game. He’s attempting to distract her, to throw her off-balance so that they can make their move. He only wishes that Obi-Wan wouldn’t choose topics that have the woman behind him pressing the gun even harder against his head.
“What?” she hisses, voice low and dangerous.
Cody barely breathes as Obi-Wan continues to observe her, the Jedi narrowing his eyes slightly. “Yes,” he murmurs, “you’ve done something, haven’t you? Something you can’t take back.” His expression softens to something akin to sympathy, attempting to provoke a reaction. “Oh, Lia.”
Lia stammers, but before she has a chance to properly respond, Obi-Wan taps out the final instruction - ‘NOW’.
Cody ducks down quickly, twisting around as Obi-Wan uses the Force to send her blaster flying out of her grasp. She yelps in surprise, and the Commander swiftly drives his elbow into the side of her head, knocking her out cleanly as the blaster clatters to the ground.
It’s quiet for a moment, as they wait to see if she’s truly unconscious.
When it’s clear that they’re out of danger, at least for the moment, Obi-Wan huffs out a breath, brushing down his robes. “Well, that was sufficiently exciting, but I rather think we shouldn’t stick around. If they’ve all double crossed one another then we have approximately five other buyers on their way to try and claim this. I wouldn’t put it past them.”
Cody glances to the prone form of Lia, now crumpled in a heap between them. It’s almost a pitiful sight. “Shouldn’t we arrest her?” he suggests, his hand coming up to gently rub at the back of his head. The strange ache persists, despite the lack of pressure there now.
The Jedi performs a quick, final sweep of the room, shaking his head decisively. “No,” he says firmly, carefully picking up the briefcase. “We’re in neutral space, and she’s not a threat without that blaster. I’ll make a report, and the security stationed here can clean up once we’re safely away with the case - that is our priority.”
He makes his way over to Cody, placing a hand on his shoulder and giving him a concerned once-over. “Are you alright?” he asks, his voice soft with the worry he’s no longer trying to conceal.
The Commander forces on a smile through the pain. “Never better.”
Obi-Wan doesn’t look particularly convinced, but regardless, they don’t have time to focus on that right now. He squeezes Cody’s shoulder before dropping it, gesturing for them to start moving.
“What was that about Barrek?” Cody asks him quietly as they slip out to the corridors once more, knowing it’s not quite safe yet to start running.
He glances at Obi-Wan as the Jedi sighs, running a hand over his beard. “I was trying to sense him throughout the altercation. I assumed he’d have been nearby, that he and Lia were betraying the rest of the buyers together.”
They pause for a moment, stepping aside to let a cleaner move past with a trolley. “They weren’t?” Cody murmurs, raising a questioning brow.
Obi-Wan shakes his head. “I could only sense the echoes of him. She killed him first.”
Cody blinks. “Oh.”
A silence stretches between them as they make it through to the foyer, trying to keep a low profile among the few guests awake at this hour. Obi-Wan passes Cody the briefcase as he saunters over to drop their keys off at the reception desk, sparing a few words of thanks to the staff.
Cody sees Obi-Wan suddenly tense, and moments later, one of the men involved in the deal on the beach steps in from the pouring rain outside, shaking out an umbrella. Cody swallows, shrinking behind two nearby drunk guests engaged in an animated conversation surreptitiously holding the briefcase behind him to keep it out of sight.
He barely dares to breathe as the man walks by, entirely oblivious to the two of them. Obi-Wan meets Cody’s gaze and nods for them to keep moving.
As soon as they’re outside and away from the harsh lights of the entrance, they begin to run.
Obi-Wan stays a few steps ahead as Cody covers his rear, keeping the case tucked securely under his arm and trying to keep an eye out for anyone who might be trying to intercept them - they’re so close now, but if Lia knew of their existence, then any of the others might, as well.
Thankfully, it looks like they’re in the clear, even if they do draw a few stares from the handful of resort guests who are still out in such conditions.
Cody’s feet pound beneath him, each step making his brain feel like it’s rattling in his skull, the splitting headache from earlier deciding to make itself as painfully known as possible.
Stars, he can’t wait to sleep this off.
Through some miracle of the Force, they make it to the docks without interruption, Cody rushing up the ramp of the ship just as Obi-Wan makes it to the pilot’s seat, powering up the engine and punching in the coordinates to Coruscant with a practiced swiftness.
As soon as the ship begins to whir to life, they both let out a breath of relief.
Cody stands, as steadily as he can, as the door closes behind him. The world seems to be swaying almost dangerously about him as the ship takes off, retreating to the safe confines of the stars above.
That’s strange, he thinks faintly - Obi-Wan’s piloting isn’t usually this erratic.
Cody stumbles slightly, careful to keep as strong of a grip as he can on the briefcase to stop himself from dropping it - a task that’s harder than it should be, given the circumstances.
From his position in the pilot’s seat, Obi-Wan’s head suddenly whips around, his face pale. Cody watches as his mouth moves, but he can’t quite parse the muffled sounds that come out of it.
He looks… alarmed, Cody belatedly realises. Trying to get his thoughts together is starting to feel like wading through molasses.
He tries to speak as the Jedi begins to rush over, but it’s a losing battle, hearing himself just let out a garbled string of noises. Logically, he knows that something is wrong with him, but he doesn’t quite have the brainpower to figure out what in the Galaxy it could be.
As soon as Obi-Wan is close enough, Cody instinctively shoves the briefcase into his arms for safekeeping, before he pitches forwards, only half-consciously registering the way his body comes to an unnatural stop in the air before actually hitting the ground, gently lowering the rest of the way.
The metal is cool beneath his cheek.
As his mind slips into nothingness, Cody’s last thoughts are of the gentle hands carefully manoeuvring him onto his side, and of the splitting pain radiating from the back of his skull.
When the darkness finally overwhelms him, it’s more of a relief than anything.
______________________________
Cody blinks at the offered weapon in front of him, not entirely comprehending what it is he’s being asked to do.
“I… are you sure? General, I’m fine with my blaster, I really am.”
Obi-Wan’s expression remains the same - almost unnerving in how unreadable it is.
There’s an irony to be had in the fact that Cody can tell so much from how hard the other man is trying to hide.
Late afternoon has come and gone within the training room in the Jedi Temple, the two men considerably dishevelled and covered in a sheen of sweat after an hour of sparring already. Despite this, it doesn’t seem to have been enough for Obi-Wan today. It’s unlike him; the seasoned Jedi Master usually prefers short, intensive bouts of practice with Cody over longer, more sustained sessions.
Outside, the clouds have gathered close, casting the room in that familiar dim, grey light that’s emblematic of the grim Coruscant winters.
“It’s necessary,” the Jedi insists, his eyes never once leaving the Commander’s. He frowns slightly, the motion breaking the mold of perfect stoicism he had been maintaining up until now. “Just take it, please, Cody. We have much to go over in little time.”
With a sigh, Cody finally concedes, reaching out to gingerly take the lightsaber that’s being offered to him. He rolls it in his palm, feeling the familiar weight of the hilt as he glances down at it cautiously.
He’s held the weapon countless times before; sheathed it at his hip even more frequently. But using it like this? It feels… sacrilegious, somehow.
Obi-Wan nods in approval as Cody’s fingers close around the cold metal.
“Very good. Right,” the Jedi says, his ‘mentor voice’ in full effect as he strides with a purpose across the room. He rummages around in a trunk full of resources for training Padawans - stun blasters and remotes for the training droids, mostly. Eventually, he pulls out two training lightsabers, activating the both of them with a scrutinising once-over.
“These will have to do. Now, Cody,” Obi-Wan begins, gesturing to the other man. “Crouch slightly, like this,” he demonstrates. “No - more weight on your back foot - good. Bring my lightsaber over your head, like so, and point your other arm forwards.”
Cody does as he’s asked, feeling more than a little foolish.
Fancy flourishes and footwork are a Jedi’s speciality, not his. For himself, Cody feels much more at home with a less aesthetically pleasing take on warfare. Blasters may be simple, but they’re also straight to the point - no need for posturing and intimidation if you’re going to just shoot someone in the head and be done with it.
Still, he tries.
“And… now activate it,” comes the next instruction, spoken a little more softly than the last.
After only a moment of hesitation, Cody presses his thumb into the activator.
The familiar light blue glow that emanates from the blade is oddly comforting to the clone, and hearing the low buzz of the energy above him feels like a strange, forbidden thrill.
He’s never seen anyone else fight with his Jetii’s personal weapon before, barring one time when Obi-Wan had fallen unconscious in the field and Anakin had grabbed it to dual wield with over his fallen body - even then there had been a moment of respectful hesitation.
Judging by the way Obi-Wan swallowed and cleared his throat when the weapon was activated, Cody suspects he might be one of very few to ever be granted the honour. He doesn’t quite understand all the intricacies of lightsaber etiquette, but he knows it’s a sacred thing to be involved with.
“This is… your way of doing it, sir?” he asks tentatively, trying to remain still and steady as the Jedi appraises his form. He offers what he hopes is a reassuring expression of sincerity, hoping to convince Obi-Wan that he understands - to an extent, at least - the trust that is being placed in him here.
“Yes, Form III, Soresu,” Obi-Wan murmurs, his tone quiet and more than a little distracted - he’s been lost in thought all afternoon, and Cody can’t ascertain why. It disquiets him.
Obi-Wan is often a very quiet, internal person, but he usually doesn’t let stress affect him to any visible degree. He must be particularly off-kilter today.
“We’ll go over a few of the basic movements, and then we can move on to an actual drill,” Obi-Wan adds, rolling his shoulders as they stand across from one another. “Clear?”
The next half an hour is spent with Cody repeating Obi-Wan’s slow, deliberate, defensive manoeuvres, he and the Jedi walking through an unhurried version of a duel, their movements large and exaggerated to teach him the steps. It feels more like a dance than anything else, entirely the opposite of everything the clone is used to.
Occasionally, Obi-Wan corrects his form by stepping over and gently repositioning his arm or moving behind him to adjust his shoulders - always with permission. Each time, Cody feels his heart rate quicken, though he tries not to think about it too much. This is not the time nor the place.
When the time then comes for the real spar, Cody watches warily as Obi-Wan joins the ends of the hilts of the training ‘sabers together, activating them into one double-sided blade, the handle in the middle.
A shadow passes over the Jedi’s face as he looks down at his own creation, but it’s schooled back into neutrality in seconds. Cody feels a sense of unease pass through him. He doesn’t like that expression.
“I’m… I’m not certain this is truly necessary,” he murmurs softly, wanting to give the Jedi an out from whatever it is about this that’s causing him distress. Obi-Wan’s gaze snaps up to meet his.
“‘Not necessary’?” he repeats, shaking his head in disbelief. “ Commander, you cannot defend yourself from an attacker with a lightsaber using your blaster, no matter how skilled you are. Blade up.”
Cody assumes the starting stance he’d been taught as Obi-Wan closes the gap between them swiftly, beginning to swing the dual lightsaber in earnest. Cody backs up, trying to put some distance between them with every successful block. He feels clumsy, awkward, and he hates it.
“I didn’t even have my blaster out when I jumped Greivous,” he reminds the Jedi, trying to keep his footing as the other man refuses to give an inch. Something in him doubts that he’d train Padawans this way, seeing that he’s barely getting a chance to put his earlier training into practice.
The memory in question, that usually never fails to make Obi-Wan smile or at least shake his head in exasperated amusement, serves to do nothing in the present moment but darken his expression.
“Yes, but that was Greivous, Cody,” he insists with a frown. “Not–” he stops himself short, letting out an uncharacteristic noise of frustration. “Arms higher, your left side is open,” he corrects in a snap.
Cody knows that Obi-Wan’s clipped tone isn’t meant for him, but he can’t help the way he tenses slightly in response.
“Obi-Wan,” he starts, grunting as he deflects another powerful blow, attempting to redirect it to the side. “Not who?”
The Jedi doesn’t respond, and Cody frowns, worry clawing at his insides. Something is very wrong here, and he’s entirely in the dark.
“If you’re defending yourself from Niman, Commander, you cannot rest,” Obi-Wan simply says through gritted teeth, ignoring the question. “One momentary slip of focus can be the difference between life and death.”
The unmistakable sound of lightsaber clashing against lightsaber fills the small training room, Cody doing his utmost best to keep up with Obi-Wan’s relentless attacks - and if the General’s frustrated expression is anything to go by, he’s not doing a good job.
He manages to get a few dirty hits in, taking advantage of the moments Obi-Wan expects a lightsaber swing to get a kick or two in instead. Usually, his creative thinking would earn him praise or at least an approving nod, but today it just seems to put the other man further on edge.
A few more minutes of duelling, of Cody desperately trying to keep up, and the Commander has made up his mind. The next time the Jedi approaches to strike, Cody deactivates the lightsaber in his hand, standing perfectly still.
The blade comes right up to Cody’s neck and Obi-Wan freezes inches away from him, his hair dishevelled and breath coming out in heavy pants.
Cody tilts his chin upwards slightly, incredibly conscious of the weapon that's humming centimetres away, yet knowing implicitly that he will not be harmed. They hold each other’s gaze for what feels like an eternity, neither quite able to muster the ability to speak.
The clouds outside have coalesced, drowning the room in a darker hue. The threat of the inevitable break of thunder hangs over the Coruscant surface, the planet itself holding its breath along with it.
“I don’t know what it is that’s going on,” Cody eventually murmurs slowly, choosing each word carefully. He almost feels as if he’s trying to soothe a wild animal, with the wide, tense look in Obi-Wan’s eyes. “But you need to snap out of this, Obi-Wan. Now.”
A year ago, he wouldn’t have been able to imagine speaking to his superior in this way, let alone with a lightsaber at his throat, sharing a single breath between them.
The seconds pass, fraught with tension as neither man dares to even blink.
And then, all at once, the facade of General Kenobi fades away, and the Obi-Wan that’s left behind crumbles.
The training lightsabers deactivate as he sinks to the floor, putting his head in his hands.
“I’m sorry, Cody,” the Jedi murmurs, the sound pitiful and broken. “I’m so sorry.”
Cody has never been the best at dealing with emotions, and he finds every word on his tongue dies at the sight in front of him. He crouches beside Obi-Wan, placing a hesitant yet supportive hand on his shoulder as his heart twists. He wants to ask what’s wrong, to offer support, but he doesn’t quite know how. So, he does the one thing he knows he can do.
He stays.
For minutes, the Jedi keeps his head bowed, staring at the floor with a distant expression. When the trembling that has beset his frame finally eases, he’s able to speak again.
“You do not deserve to be treated so callously. Forgive me, my friend. I have had… a lot on my mind.” His voice is low, ragged with exhaustion.
Cody waits for the other man to continue, watching as he runs a hand across his face and lets out a long, slow exhale.
“I… found out yesterday that an old adversary has… reappeared from the dead, it seems.” Obi-Wan says quietly, gathering himself as much as he can muster and finally meeting Cody’s gaze with a weary smile. It doesn’t quite reach his eyes.
“He took the life of someone very close to me, a long time ago. And now he has returned, I…”
Cody swallows, hearing the words that have gone unsaid. A heaviness has settled itself over the Jedi, a weight he doesn’t usually let through - at least, not in Cody’s experience.
“... You’re worried someone else is going to get hurt,” he finishes for him, his voice as soft as he dare make it. Obi-Wan frowns, his attention turned to the endless sea of grey outside of the window.
“A Jedi should not be fearful,” he replies.
“That’s not a denial,” Cody points out.
Obi-Wan gives his Commander a rueful smile. “No. I suppose it isn’t.” His expression turns more serious, and he raises a hand to cover Cody’s hand at his shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze. Both of their palms are sweaty, but neither of them care in the moment. “Cody, I…”
Cody remains patient as Obi-Wan struggles to find his next words.
“Maul is… a very dangerous man,” he begins slowly, “with a personal vendetta against me. And I wouldn’t put it past him to…” he searches the other man’s gaze. “... attempt to cause you harm. In fact, I’m almost certain he will.”
Cody blinks at that statement, said with such conviction, and yet he is unable to fathom any reason why that would be the case. He’s well regarded within the GAR, but he’s not important enough to be a target - not like that, anyhow.
“Why?” he asks quietly. Something sad flickers across Obi-Wan’s features, before he slowly pulls back, standing and smoothing down his robes.
“The whims of the Sith are a mystery to us all, my friend,” the Jedi answers flatly.
Cody’s brow furrows slightly as he stands too, certain that that isn’t the full answer.
He knows better than to push. Obi-Wan has an irritating way of only half answering questions when he wishes to, and Cody won’t begrudge him some privacy after such a vulnerable moment. Still, it concerns him. He can always try and ask again later.
“And you were right, earlier, of course,” the Jedi adds, his usual veneer of calm returned to him, settling over his frame as naturally as breathing. “All of this was entirely unnecessary. You are exceedingly proficient in all manner of fighting, and have put up strong matches against lightsaber-wielders before, even at a disadvantage.”
He dips his head towards Cody, his expression regretful. “My deepest apologies, Cody.”
Cody feels some of the tension in his body ease at the return to normality between them. He chuckles quietly, removing the lightsaber he had stashed at his hip.
“I understand, Obi-Wan. Besides, with how often I end up with this old thing, it was a pleasure to actually get to use it for once.” He holds out the lightsaber hilt to the Jedi, a small grin pulling at his lips. He tries to inject as much dry humour as he can into his words, wanting nothing more than to put the other man at ease again. “But if it’s all the same to you, sir, I’ll leave the fancy twirling to you. I never much was one for acrobatics.”
Before Obi-Wan can take his lightsaber back, a Jedi that Cody doesn’t recognise opens the door to the room. They quickly duck back out and apologise profusely for not having known the room was occupied.
In the moments before they disappear, however, Cody catches the way they hesitate, their eyes lingering on the lightsaber he’s holding out.
Their glance drifts from his hand on the saber, to Obi-Wan, then back to him with something altogether uncomfortably knowing in their gaze.
They slip away, and before Cody has the time to ask what that was all about, Obi-Wan is hastily gathering their things together and ushering the two of them away, back to the barracks.
Cody thinks about that strange look a lot over the coming weeks, as well as what Obi-Wan could have meant by his words about him being in danger from this newly resurrected Sith, but he never can seem to settle on an answer as to what either of them meant.
It is best, he ultimately decides, to put it out of his mind.
_____________________________
The first thing that comes to his mind as Cody wakes is the sound of the ship beneath him, the unmistakable soft hum of the engines as they navigate through space.
He feels a pleasant warmth shift over his forehead, migrating up to his scalp, and Cody’s eyes slowly, slowly flutter open.
It takes a moment for him to get his bearings, which is admittedly not helped by a large shadow that’s been cast across most of his vision.
He’s laid out on the floor of the ship, he realises, his head comfortably propped up on something warm and slightly scratchy as he lazily blinks. Overhead, the shadow swims into focus, forming into the shape of Obi-Wan. The Jedi is leaning over him with his eyes closed, in a state of deep focus. He hums as Cody shifts his head, trying to move but finding himself unable to for the moment.
“Hold still for just a moment longer, Cody,” he requests in a soft murmur. “I’m nearly done.”
It dawns on Cody that his head is, in fact, situated on the Jedi’s lap, the other man’s hands resting atop his head as he channels the Force into him.
Usually, this information would have been cause for alarm, but given the way the intense pain of his head has subsided to something altogether more gentle in response to the healing he must be receiving, the Commander tentatively allows his body to relax.
Cody watches Obi-Wan for a long moment as he works, quietly admiring the expression of peace on his face that he always has when in harmony with the Force, the small details that dot across his skin, the length of his eyelashes.
Strangely, despite the anguish of this morning’s realisation, Cody feels a quiet sense of calm fill him, too, a certainty that he had lacked before. He smiles to himself.
He’s in love with the man leaning over him. It’s not something that can be acted on or returned, but perhaps that’s alright. He can live with that, treat it as he would any other immutable fact of his life. It feels almost… refreshing, to not be lying to himself anymore.
After a few more moments of peace, Obi-Wan opens his eyes, peering down at Cody with his mouth pressed into a thin line.
“I’m not the most proficient at healing I’m afraid, but I did what I could. You must have been concussed from the hit earlier.” He winces, his expression turning apologetic. “I’m sorry. I sensed the rock, but didn’t have time to divert you.”
His touch lingers on Cody’s scalp, his fingers unconsciously tangling gently in the longer-than-usual hair there. It’s a pleasant sensation, and Cody has to fight from leaning into the caress as a shiver runs down his spine.
He manages what he hopes is a non-shaky smile to the Jedi above him, raising a brow. “To be quite honest, I’d rather have a concussion than no head left to be concussed in the first place.”
Obi-Wan chuckles at that, a gentle mirth lighting up his features.
In a move that Cody has to remind himself is likely just absent-minded and meaningless, the Jedi slowly swipes his thumb over his forehead to brush away a stray curl of hair.
“I suppose you are correct there, my friend.” Obi-Wan murmurs fondly.
Cody’s heart gives a traitorous little flutter at the intimacy of the moment, and for a few precious seconds, the two just watch each other.
“Do you feel able to move?” the Jedi asks, eyes scanning Cody’s face, probably searching for any lingering pain or discomfort.
Cody nods, though he’s a little regretful to break the tranquil bubble of the moment. Slowly, he pulls himself into a sitting position, the dull ache of his head protesting at the movement, though it’s considerably muted now.
“Thanks for the help,” he says, the words coming out a little softer than intended.
“Of course,” comes the equally hushed reply.
Obi-Wan glances to the ship’s console across from them. “We’ll be back at the Temple soon. And then you can rest properly.”
Cody shuffles to sit against the wall of the ship, his eyes settling on the briefcase nearby. It’s been neatly stacked atop some datapads nearby, and the locks seem to have been sliced open with a lightsaber.
“What was in it?” he asks, glancing back to the Jedi curiously. Obi-Wan runs a hand over his beard absent-mindedly.
“Test tubes filled with an unknown substance. If I had to guess, a bioweapon of some kind, potentially one that could release a cloud of gas.”
Cody hums at that, stifling a yawn. It had been a long day, and it’ll be even longer by the time they’ve turned in all of their reports to the Council tonight.
“Makes sense as to why they’d have been nervous to jostle it, then,” he comments.
“Indeed.” Obi-Wan watches his Commander for a long moment, his expression softening. “You should take the night off. I can get the reports turned in myself, Cody.”
Cody would usually scoff at the idea, but right now the idea of rest sounds incredibly tempting - his body is practically screaming for it after the exhaustion of losing consciousness and the subsequent healing.
He evidently must not respond fast enough to dissuade Obi-Wan from the idea, as the Jedi breaks out into a gently amused smile.
“Good. I much prefer it when you don’t argue,” he jokes, and Cody can’t help but roll his eyes. “I’ll inform Helix to expect you when we land.”
Cody nods, murmuring a quiet ‘thank you’ as they slip into a companionable silence. The ship continues to drift through space as Cody feels his eyes droop, heavy and unrelenting in their quest to pull him to sleep.
A sudden thought occurs to him when they’re only five minutes out from Coruscant, the realisation causing him to groan softly in frustration. Obi-Wan looks over to him, a question in his gaze.
“... We forgot our suitcases at the hotel,” he grumbles.
Obi-Wan blinks in surprise, glancing around them to confirm the statement. In a rare moment of genuine irritation that’s not directed towards Anakin, he drops his face into his hands.
“Blast.”
next chapter
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A/N: First arc down, but so much still to happen! Thank you all for reading so far. I hope you enjoy what's coming next :)
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 1
Pairings: Codywan
Tags/Warnings: slow burn(ish), fake dating, only one bed, general angst and pining, AO3 rating is E for future chapters
Link to read on AO3 here!
Description:
The truth of the matter burrows deep into Cody’s skin, settling into the home it’s long-since made for itself there, 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.)
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A/N: In my unending quest to name all of my fics after The Amazing Devil songs, this one is taken from Elsa's Song. If you're reading this on Tumblr, you're getting a unique version of this author's note - hello there! I usually just link to my fics on Tumblr, but this time I've decided to post each chapter in full here!
Any and all comments are massively appreciated, and if I can format anything better for posting here please let me know. I'm aiming to have the next chapter up in 2-3 weeks :)
Huge thanks to my wonderful friend @whenyourfavouritedies (link to their AO3 here!) for beta reading.
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He’d had a good run, Cody thinks to himself as he faces down the adversary in front of him. Perhaps he could avoid the mortal embarrassment of defeat by defenestrating himself from the nearest window - at least then his death could be ruled as a bizarre, impulsive moment of pure lunacy rather than the alternative of being done in entirely by the man in front of him.
… The man in front of him who evidently seems to be expecting a response to his words.
Cody, the Marshal Commander of the 212th who has spoken in front of the Council multiple times, who’s renowned throughout the GAR for his prowess at quick-thinking and strategy, desperately tries to muster something. Gingerly, he collects the shattered pieces of his brain from the floor, and attempts to produce something coherent with them.
“... Oh,” he manages, trying to not let his words come out as strangled as it feels like they could in this moment. “Right.”
As it turns out, those two words alone are insufficient, at least judging by Obi-Wan’s look of pure bewilderment. The Jedi tilts his head a little, studying the clone before him.
“Is everything alright, Cody?” he asks tentatively, before glancing back to the mission briefing on his datapad. Cody’s eyes remain glued to one word in particular, practically glaring at him from the harshly backlit screen of the tablet.
He can feel a headache coming on.
“If it’s too much, Anakin has offered to spare Rex, but to be perfectly honest–”
Absolutely not. The only thing Cody can think of that would be worse than going on this mission at all would be someone else going in his place.
“-- I’d rather avoid a repeat of what happened on Corellia, if at all possible,” Obi-Wan murmurs, stroking a hand over his beard. He frowns slightly at the memory, and Cody files the subject away to ask about later, though for the moment he has far more pressing matters to address.
“Right,” Cody repeats, before finally remembering that he does, in fact, know how to string words into a sentence. His eyes snap up from the datapad, meeting his General’s gaze. Discomfort claws its way through his body, constricting his throat a little when he tries to gather himself. “Yes, sir. I’m just wondering, about the aliases-”
Obi-Wan huffs, clearly having his own strong opinion on whatever he thinks Cody is about to say. “Yes, well, I appreciate that the backstories aren’t as detailed as they could be. I did mention it, but the Council did what they could on such short notice.”
“Of course. I’m just wondering if we have to be–”
“Really, it’s a miracle that they even had anything planned, knowing them.”
“-- Married?”
Obi-Wan blinks, and a long silence stretches between the two men. He studies Cody’s face again for a moment, before he looks back down at the datapad, his brow furrowed slightly as if he’s only just considering the implications of the mission for the first time.
Cody stands, steady as ever, though behind his back his fingers twitch anxiously. From the Jedi's telling, it’s going to be a fairly quick undercover stint - a handful of days at most. They’ll be staying at a hotel-slash-resort out in a neutral system, where they’ve been tipped off that a handful of Separatists are meeting for a business deal that could debilitate the Republic if it goes off smoothly.
A tad dramatic, perhaps, but when intel like that is received, the Jedi have to ensure that the call to action is answered. And who better to answer it with than one of their best?
Unfortunately for Cody, the Jedi’s best has a penchant for dragging him along, too.
This type of mission might be incredibly rote for the General, but for Cody, it’s… An intimidating prospect. He’s a soldier, a strategist - a damned good one at that, there’s a reason he’s been given the position of Commander - if there’s one thing he is decidedly not, however, it's an actor.
It’s likely that the more experienced man hadn’t even given Cody’s involvement a second thought - they’re by each other’s side on most battlefields, after all… This arena, though, is an untrodden one. After some consideration, Obi-Wan quirks a brow and looks back up at his Commander.
“You’re aware that we wouldn’t actually be signing any legal documents for the sake of the mission?” he queries, as if that were at all the issue Cody is having here. Stars, but does this man like to play dense sometimes.
“... That’s not the point, sir.”
“Then what is? Do you not think I would make a fine husband? My dear Commander, you wound me.”
Cody has the quiet suspicion that if anyone had the fortune to wed his General (not that the Jedi were even allowed such things), they would find themselves spending a considerable portion of the rest of their lives having to put up with his unfortunate sense of humour.
As it happens, Cody is the one who’s taking the burden for that responsibility at current. It’s been slowly driving him up the wall for the better part of the war effort.
“I’m sure you would make a good–” no, that’s not appropriate, “a fine–” he stops short, glowering at the amused smirk that has plastered itself on his General’s face. Obi-Wan seems to be garnering a little too much delight in causing him to stammer like a schoolchild, the victorious glint in his eye evident. Cody shakes his head, persisting despite the flush that he’s sure has appeared on his cheeks. “... You know what I mean.”
Much to Cody’s relief, Obi-Wan takes mercy on him and drops the subject. He glances back down to the datapad with a thoughtful hum, his expression returning to something a little more dignified.
“It was ultimately a logistical choice. We would be sharing a room in the hotel, regardless, and the cover makes it considerably less likely that people would raise questions.” A pause, and then the Jedi’s voice turns a little more gentle. “If it would truly make you uncomfortable, Cody, then we can come up with an alternative.”
Cody finds himself shaking his head before he even has time to think it through properly. It’s… Fine. He’s fine. The thought of pretending to be Obi-Wan’s… husband, makes something strange curl in his gut, a sense of tightness and discomfort that he can’t quite identify.
He pushes the feeling away, telling himself that all it is is feeling unsure about going undercover in general - it will be, after all, his first time doing so for more than a few minutes at a time. He’s bluffed to get past guards and to stall enemies, they all have, but he’s practically a shiny in this territory. It makes sense that he’d have some nerves.
“No, I… I’ll take the mission, General. I was just…” he hesitates. He was just what exactly? Cody isn’t entirely certain. “I’ll just need some time to look over the aliases, to prepare. Being undercover is… Not my usual wheelhouse.”
That’s putting it lightly.
“If you’re certain?”
Cody holds the Jedi’s earnest gaze for as long as he can muster with this odd sensation sloshing around in his stomach. He manages a nod, moving to take the datapad from the other man as they prepare to move onto other matters for the morning.
“Yes, sir.”
______________________________
The night before the mission rolls around, Cody finds himself still awake far too late into the night. He’s at his desk, poring over multiple tabs of research, and Stars, there’s still so much to cover before they’re set to leave.
He’s… what is it that an actor would call it? ‘Studying’ the fictional man that is Vidarr Emerin, a wealthy investor who’s gained a frankly ridiculous amount of credits from backing a series of Spice mining projects on Kessel. Vidarr isn’t actually involved in the day to day operations of the creation of the drug directly (and thank the Force for that, because Cody couldn’t realistically describe the process if there was a blaster to his head), though he has his fingers in many metaphorical pies of Kessel’s ‘industry’, if one can call it that.
Vidarr is ruthlessly efficient, cutthroat, and has more money invested in the black market than Cody has ever seen in his entire life.
His favourite colour, the document notes, is brown.
They’re hoping that, due to the planet they’re travelling to not having seen hide nor hair of the war as of yet, Cody can blend in as a regular human without issue. If he were to be clocked as a clone however, he and Obi-Wan have come up with a story that fits. A benefit of their cover is that if any clone were to defect from the GAR, Kessel would likely be a decent option for them to run to, due to its relative distance from the war and the objective difficulty in getting to the planet. It would be easier if he didn’t have to out himself, but it never hurts to be prepared.
The Commander is about three cafs into his nighttime research, and is showing no sign of slowing, currently skimming through a holonet article about Kessel’s southern equator. He’s trying to take notes on as many details as possible about the habitable section of the planet: the names of local wildlife, parks, various points of interest… It’s unlikely that anyone would want to talk to him about the geography of the local rivers, admittedly, but what if he’s caught out unexpectedly?
No, Cody reasons to himself, taking another gulp of caf. Not worth the risk. He’ll just have to memorise the relative locations of every tributary and estuary in the local area that Vidarr is from. It’s the only way he can walk into this prepared.
It’s even later when his chrono beeps at him for attention. His eyes have been struggling to focus on the various screens for too long to ignore, and Cody’s attention turns to the empty notepad page to his right. The one that’s been staring him down all evening.
He narrows his eyes at it, sizing the offending object up. One moment passes, then another. The man groans, running a tired hand over his face and silencing his alarm. He may as well get this over with.
He returns his datapad to the page about their aliases, scrolling until he hits the ‘marriage and relationship’ section. Cody pulls the notepad over, reluctantly beginning to scribble down some bullet points.
Renne Emerin, née Cardall, met Vidarr at a soiree attended by a handful of various small-time investors for the Pyke Syndicate, and the two began courting not long after. Three years into their relationship, they got engaged. A further year, and the two were married. This little trip together is a celebration for their second wedding anniversary.
They have a bonded pair of tookas. They’re considering adopting a child. They’re a regular, normal couple in love.
Cody turns off the datapad, pinching the bridge of his nose with a sigh.
For the life of him, he doesn’t know why he feels such a mental block in regards to… all of this. Obi-Wan had been incredibly accommodating - between them, they’d laid out expectations, negotiated how they were going to approach this, and the Jedi had promised to not push too hard in the name of making a good cover (though Cody had insisted he not hold back on his account - he’d be damned if his own incompetence compromised a mission).
And yet… The anxious feeling persists. It’s subtler now at least, having spent the last week preparing and researching, but it remains under his skin, simmering away.
It worsens when he thinks of the marriage they’ll have to upkeep.
His chrono beeps a second time, a harsh, needy trill that tells him he really ought to be getting to bed now. Cody grumbles to himself, turning the blasted alarm off again, before finally flopping down in his bed and flicking off the light to his room.
It’ll be fine, he thinks wearily, forcing himself to take a deep breath and settle his mind.
If there’s one thing he trusts implicitly in this Galaxy, it’s that Obi-Wan will have his back. Discomfort be damned, they’ll get through this in one piece. Soon enough, this’ll just be a funny story to tell when sufficiently drunk.
Clinging onto that thought like it holds the last vestiges of his sanity, Cody drifts into a fitful but desperately needed sleep.
______________________________
The Commander wakes early, exactly as he was trained. A fast shower, an efficient shave, and his bed made neatly behind him as he dresses.
At 0600 hours exactly, he leaves his quarters, fully clad in his newly issued armour - shiny, pristine, bright white plastoid that catches in the harsh, fluorescent lighting lining the hallways of the Venator. He is precisely as he should be: the perfect example of what the Kaminoans created.
When he reaches the briefing room, he raps his gloved knuckles against the door once, twice. Cody feels confident as he waits - every single choice he makes matters today, and a good first impression is vital. Yes, he thinks, mulling it over in his mind: a single knock would have been insufficient, and three would be bordering on informal. Two was the right answer, Commander. Good work.
It takes precisely six seconds for the door to slide open, revealing the Jedi he had met briefly before in holocalls, though never face to face. The Jedi he’s going to dedicate his life to.
Auburn hair catches the light, and clean, cream coloured robes settle tidily about his form. Curious eyes settle on him, inspecting the clone likely as much as the clone is analysing the Jedi. Cody is quietly grateful for his helmet giving him the tactical upper hand in this endeavour.
The blue of the Jedi’s eyes reminds him of the Kaminoan ocean, though he’s unsure whether or not that association is a good or a bad one. The man in front of him looks methodically put together, neat and organised, as a member of the famed Jetii should be… Perhaps a little tired, though, as the faint bags under his eyes might indicate.
Cody decides it doesn’t matter. It’s surely just a sign of his new General’s commitment to his work ethic that he would stay up late to prepare for today. Something they’ll have in common, then.
The Commander’s back is, naturally, ramrod-straight as he salutes sharply, his voice strong and even as he speaks.
“CC-2224, sir. Ready for our briefing.” He knows the Jedi should have remembered his designation number from their fleeting introductions over holocall, but it never hurts to be cautious. The man has a lot to familiarise himself with over the coming days, after all. It wouldn’t be a slight if it took him a while to remember something so small.
General Kenobi pauses at that, before offering a small, if hesitant smile. It doesn’t reach his eyes.
“Of course.” He steps aside, allowing the clone entry into the meeting room. It’s a tidy, organised space, yet something about it is almost eerie in its quietude. Cody’s eyes sweep over neat stacks of datapads and consoles with no fingerprints yet on their keyboards, no dust yet accumulated on the cables filling the room. A tactical space, ready to handle and catalogue so much violence and death - years of it, more.
And yet it is, at present, still and empty. Lying in eager wait for the blood to start spilling, to see the use it has been designed for. Today, the Commander supposes, is the day.
The General sweeps through the room, posture so exact that it almost makes him look as if he’s gliding rather than walking. He sets up the holotable at the centre of the room, watching as the agenda for the day flickers into being, a list nearly a mile long. General Kenobi scans over the file with a quiet sigh, before he glances over to meet the other man’s gaze.
“Would you care for a cup of caf? I quite find I struggle to focus so early on in the day.”
The Jedi’s voice is gentle, softened at the edges with tiredness - not at all the tone the soldier is used to from authority. Cody frowns to himself. And he’s… Offering him caf. Not an order or command. An unexpected start to their working relationship.
Part of him can’t help but think it could be a trap. A test of how much he’d be willing to take from him, perhaps. A measure of his discipline?
Kenobi looks progressively more awkward as time presses on. He speaks up again, evidently trying to search for any hint of emotion in the clone’s expressionless helmet and drawing a blank.
“Or… Tea?” he tries, tilting his head a little. “I can make tea instead, if that’s more to your liking.”
The Commander hesitates, trying to figure out the right answer to this puzzle in front of him. Would it offend the General if he said no? Could he say no, if he wanted to? How much of a choice does he get here?
Regardless, he can tell his prolonged silence is unnerving his new General, and the last thing he wants is to make a bad impression.
“Caf… Caf is fine, sir. Thank you.”
That, at least, seems to placate the Jedi. He smiles, a little more sincerely this time, before disappearing off to the corner of the room and busying himself with making some drinks.
Cody takes the opportunity to get a headstart on the agenda for their first day, looking over the list at the holotable with a critical eye. There’s much to do, and he’s anxious to get to it and prove himself.
“Right,” Kenobi begins as he returns, passing a steaming mug to Cody before sipping at his own. “Let us get started, hm?”
The briefing is quick, and efficient. They move through all the matters of the day - introductory training with the men, preparations to oversee supply requisitioning, and early drafts of strategy for the 212th’s first upcoming mission in the field together.
The caf is nicer than he expected.
“Before we go, Commander,” Kenobi says as the two turn to leave for the first training, his tone thoughtful. He looks to the clone in front of him, folding his hands into the sleeves of his robes. “I was wondering if I could have your name.”
… What?
“My… Designation number, sir?” He asks, with a little uncertainty. The Jedi’s mouth twitches - not quite a frown, but something close to it. He attempts to disguise it by passing a hand over his beard. Cody tenses instinctively.
“No, you greeted me with that when you first came in,” he reminds him, voice gentle. “I meant your name. Your actual one.”
CC-2224 glitches.
He’s not sure how long he just stares at the General, but it’s long enough to prompt Kenobi to speak again.
“... If that would be alright?”
No, no it would be decidedly not alright. This is against everything the Commander was expecting, everything he’s spent his whole life preparing for. He’s almost indignant at the impropriety. As he continues to hesitate, a flash of something like worry flashes across Obi-Wan’s face, followed by a sheepishness unbefitting of someone of his station.
He raises his hand, cutting off Cody as he finally opens his mouth to answer.
“No, no, I apologise, Commander,” he says quickly, sounding a little ashamed. “Names are… important to your brothers, aren’t they?”
At Cody’s stupefied nod, he continues on.
“I should not have asked something so personal of you,” the Jedi murmurs, bowing his head briefly in apology. “Forgive me.”
The Commander doesn’t quite know what to do with that. A brief mumble of ‘it’s alright, sir’, and an evening spent puzzling out who, exactly, his new General is, will have to do.
That night, Cody finds himself staring up at the ceiling as he tries to find sleep.
Perhaps the Kaminoans were wrong about the Jetii. About what would be expected of them. But then, if that’s true, then what else were they wrong about?
It’s an unnerving thought, and it’s one that plagues him for the coming weeks.
______________________________
In the half-light of the ship’s artificial morning, Cody stares down his reflection in the mirror, wrinkling his nose slightly as he tugs a battle-worn comb through his hair, gently teasing the curls apart. He glances back down to the holonet vid he found, the projector balancing precariously on the edge of the sink. Making a swiping gesture in the air with his free hand, he winds back the video yet another time. The helpful, yet slightly too-fast-speaking Kiffar woman in the vid enthusiastically explains how to loosen one’s curl pattern, and Cody repeats the actions she demonstrates, his brow knitting together unconsciously as he focuses.
The 212th doesn’t exactly have access to the myriad of supplies the vid-blogger eagerly shows the camera, but Cody’s scoured the supply shipments to source some decent enough conditioner - combined with the comb with a handful of missing teeth that he’d uncovered earlier in his room, they’ll have to do. The steam from the shower he’d taken minutes earlier permeates the room, and Cody has to pause in his delicate work every few minutes to wipe down the mirror.
He continues working methodically from the ends of the strands up to his scalp, becoming progressively less clumsy with the action as he goes. It’s strangely meditative, though it helps that his attention on this is effectively holding off the nervousness that the mission ahead of him today brings.
By the time he finishes up, the Commander just… stares at himself for a long moment, noting the unfamiliar sensation of his still-damp hair falling a short way across his face. It’ll need to be slicked back, certainly, but it looks… Fine. Not like him, though. Not at all.
It’s a funny thing, that sensation that other sentients would refer to as not recognising yourself in the mirror. When your face is the same as millions of others, it’s more like seeing another one of the vode. One with that same scar across the temple and with considerably less sternness about adhering to the GAR’s hair-length regs, clearly.
Cody sighs, gesturing to power down the holoprojector, finishing towelling himself off and finally heading out of the ‘fresher to get ready for the day. Regardless of his feelings on the subject, it’ll help him blend in better as a deserter, so longer hair it is.
Longer hair and an almost merc-like uniform, according to the tailored cloak and boots that wait for him in his room. Cody grimaces.
He just hopes that if Waxer or Boil see him, they’ll keep their mouths shut.
By some mercy of the fates, he’s able to steal through the Venator and make it up to the docking bays without catching the eye of any of his men (mostly, at least; he’d brushed past Helix outside the medbay but the medic hadn’t even looked up from his work).
He jogs up the ramp to the ship to join his Jedi - already waiting for him and re-reading today’s mission details with a mug in hand, of course.
Cody spots the second mug of caf that Obi-Wan had prepared sitting over on one of the consoles and beelines for it, already knowing he’ll be needing all the stimulants he can get his hands on to feel at all ready for today.
“Ah, Commander, I was wondering when you were going to–” Obi-Wan starts, but the comment dies on his tongue. Cody glances over to see his normally so eloquent General taking a moment before finishing his sentence, his friend’s gaze flicking briefly over his appearance. The Commander raises a questioning brow, and Obi-Wan clears his throat quietly, before offering Cody a slightly short nod.
“... When you were going to arrive.” His eyes linger for a moment, uncharacteristically unsure of himself, before he turns away, busying himself by inputting the coordinates into the console. “The hair suits you, by the way.”
Cody feels strangely warm at the compliment, self-consciously reaching up to push back some of the strands.
“I’ve written up some of the boys for shorter,” he comments dryly, stepping up alongside the Jedi and taking a sip of his caf. Obi-Wan snorts in quiet amusement, giving him a sidelong glance.
“I’m sure.”
A calm silence briefly blankets them as the ship’s autopilot gets them away from the Venator and into the familiar black ocean of space, and Cody feels some of his tension ease. Of course it feels normal. He was a fool to think that this would feel any different to their usual missions.
His eyes idly track the various indicators that display the wellbeing of the ship as he exhales slowly, lips curling up into something more reminiscent of a grimace than a smile - but nonetheless, he tries.
“You feeling ready for this?” he asks, feeling selfishly a little comforted by the thoughtful hum he gets in response. That’s a ‘not quite’ from the Jedi, and it at least means they’ll be walking into this together with some uncertainty. Cody hates feeling like he’s on the back foot.
“You can never be too ready for an undercover mission,” Obi-Wan says evenly, staring out ahead of them as the ship prepares to enter hyperspace. His fingers tap idly against his mug. “It always comes down to improvisation. A slip of the tongue here, an unexpected question there,” he murmurs. Catching Cody’s eye, the ghost of a smirk flits across his features. “... Not to worry you, of course.”
“Mm, right. You’d never do anything to cause me worry,” Cody quips, settling down into the pilot chair and buckling himself in. Obi-Wan follows suit, nodding serenely.
“It definitely hasn’t happened before, no.”
The trip through hyperspace is largely uneventful, the two falling into a companionable silence. As his thoughts stray to the mission ahead a little way into the flight, Cody realises his mind must feel a little frayed through the Force, because Obi-Wan turns to give him the look.
‘The Look’ is something scrutinising that happens whenever the Commander hasn’t quite managed to maintain his mental shields enough to conceal his emotions in a time of stress - the Jedi Order had, en masse, taught the vode how to do it in the early days of their partnership, in the interest of maintaining privacy for the troops, and as a gesture of goodwill. Cody does it well, for the most part, though it’s harder for him with Obi-Wan than with others, he finds. The man always seems to be able to see right through him.
“You’re still anxious.” It’s more of a statement than a question, and Cody wishes, not for the first time, that the General wouldn’t draw attention to his vulnerability like this. He levels Obi-Wan with a frustrated look of his own, brows knitting into a frown.
“It’s fine,” he insists. Obi-Wan looks at him flatly. Cody relents immediately, knowing that it’s useless trying to lie to any Jedi, but especially this one in particular.
He course corrects.
“It’ll be fine once we’re actually in the thick of it. It’s…” he grimaces, shaking his head slightly. “It’s the unknown of it all. At least if it’s a firefight, you can face down the enemy with a rifle.”
Obi-Wan reaches out to gently squeeze his Commander’s shoulder. The action soothes, the familiar warmth of his hand providing an anchor point of calm. “You’ll be wonderful. If I didn’t have full faith in you, I wouldn’t have asked you to join me,” he says, sincerely.
“Besides,” Obi-Wan adds, a playful glint in his eye, “if it all goes sideways, then you can happily be in your comfort zone while we blast our way out.”
A huff of amusement escapes Cody as he rolls his eyes, reaching up to cover the hand that remains on his shoulder.
“My comfort zone of keeping you from getting yourself impaled or shot? Yes, I’m unfortunately very familiar,” he mutters, exasperated yet fond.
Obi-Wan tips his head back and laughs.
______________________________
The first time he hears Obi-Wan laugh - properly laugh, not that wry chuckle he occasionally hears during briefings - it’s also the first time they’ve stayed up late together to finish up on paperwork in his quarters. Cody has been regaling him with a tale from his youth on Kamino, relating to a particularly memorable incident involving Wooley, Boil, and a few mouse droids, and Obi-Wan laughs, eyes creasing at the corners and shoulders shaking with mirth.
At this time, it’s been about six weeks since the battalion’s first deployment in the war. The group is beginning to feel less like a random selection of soldiers and more like many parts of a functioning whole. Most notably, a handful of the men have recently started on their armour decoration. After much debate back and forth about the colour they should choose to accurately represent the battalion, Crys organised a (debatably) official vote in the mess hall with swatches of the strongest contenders.
The General had politely abstained over lunch, telling the vode that it wasn’t his place to influence their choices on such matters. Waxer indignantly declared such a position as ‘fence-sitting’, and Cody had sharply warned the young trooper that if he were to accuse High Jedi General Obi-Wan Kenobi of centrist tendencies again, it would be KP duty for a month.
The vote had come out strongly in favour of a colour they’d henceforth started referring to as ‘212th gold’ - a handsome shade that glowed like the sun when caught by natural light. As his duty dictates him to show the way for his men, the Commander was among the first to adopt it, beginning with the sunburst on his chestplate. It felt right, even with those first brushstrokes, to be able to claim something as truly theirs. Cody hopes that one day, 212th gold will represent a spark of hope across the Galaxy. A mark made entirely in their name.
A little romantic of a thought, perhaps, but it brings him a spark of pride whenever he sees the newest shinies brought in, eager to earn the paint stripes they see displayed by those in command.
In these last six weeks, a considerable amount has changed for the men, and it’s been a lot of adjustment. Both Obi-Wan and the vode serving under him have had to figure out how to adapt, to work alongside each other effectively. The General is kinder, more human than the Kaminoans had warned he’d be - he watches out for them on battlefields, mourns alongside them when their brothers are lost… in turn, the vode are beginning to slowly open up, too, starting to share parts of their culture with the Jedi.
He’s even been learning to speak Mando’a, though Cody is privately grateful that he’s been able to warn the boys ahead of time to watch their tongues when the General is floating around. They mean well, but he knows what they can be like if they think no one can understand them… The last thing he wants is to have to deal with writing up half of his troops for discussing too liberally what happened during their most recent trip to 79’s.
Once Obi-Wan gathers himself again, he looks over at Cody with a thoughtful glance, his expression softened with a grin.
“It doesn’t sound altogether too dissimilar to the way we were raised in the temple, you know,” he says, “... mischief and all.”
Cody watches him from his position sat on the edge of his bed. He thinks the relaxed, genuine smile suits the other man greatly. He privately hopes he’ll get to see it again after tonight.
The Jedi hums to himself, before adopting a fond, faraway look. “All younglings can be particularly trying in large numbers, regardless of origin,” he continues, “I do not envy the crechèmasters for the duty they have to perform.”
Cody’s interest is piqued at that. The datapad in his hand is ignored for a moment, attention turned fully to the man sitting at his desk.
“You were raised communally?”
Obi-Wan nods, pausing briefly to make an amendment to the report in front of him, slender fingers moving quickly across the screen. Stars, Cody thinks to himself with a little annoyance, the man can even make paperwork look elegant.
“Yes. Well, from a certain age at least. I was brought to the Temple around age 4,” he explains. His eyes are still a little distant, lost in the memory of a happier time. “I still have a deep fondness for my crèchemates, despite… Differing opinions with a handful of them.”
Cody nods slowly, studying the Jedi for a beat.
“I get that, General,” he says, returning his attention to his datapad. “I’m the same with my batchmates. I just… Might have had more of them than you.”
“An understatement I’m sure, Commander,” Obi-Wan chuckles, before his tone turns softer, more sincere. He glances over at Cody, choosing his next words carefully.
“It seems like… A wonderful thing, the family you and the rest of the vode share.” He gives Cody a small smile, though there’s something else to it, a heaviness that settles behind his expression. “... It’s a shame that such a thing was created for the unworthy purpose of war. I can only hope that once the fighting is done, you’ll be able to thrive as all other sentients do.”
The two lapse into silence for a little while, the only sound filling the room the soft tapping of keys. Obi-Wan has spoken a little about his feelings on the war over the last handful of weeks, and to be truthful, it’s not a subject that Cody trusts himself to speak about. Neither the 212th, nor Cody himself for that matter, have been deployed for very long, and the clone doesn’t quite understand all of the weight behind his General’s words. Perhaps he will come to, in time… for better or worse.
Cody has reckoned with his own adjustments in the past few weeks. He’s found himself relaxing considerably around Obi-Wan, no longer feeling the burning need to watch himself as if his General is considering decommissioning him if he puts a foot wrong. He didn’t particularly know her, but from what the other vode say, Shaak Ti was similar back on Kamino.
It took a week and one mission in the field before Cody decided that the Jetii were not the dictators they’d expected. A further week and he was convinced they had no choice in this whole matter either, and were evidently suffering for it. Like a good Commander, he'd kept those observations to himself.
As soon as he’d allowed himself to be… Well, human, around the Jedi, he and Obi-Wan had started to become closer. Cody isn’t particularly adept at it yet, but if he finds himself arriving early to their morning briefings, he’s started making the General his tea in the way he likes it. It’s something small, but judging by the way Obi-Wan’s eyes had widened the first time he’d done it, a pleased smile crossing his face, it’s something that seemed to mean a lot to him.
They’ve become… Friends, or something approaching that, at least. It’s a thought that has him steeling himself to speak now, clearing his throat in the quiet space.
“... Cody,” he says, forcing the word to come out casually. Obi-Wan glances up again with a raised brow, a questioning look in his eyes. Cody finds it in himself to meet his General’s gaze, offering an affirmative nod. “You, uh… asked me for my chosen name, when we first met,” he explains quietly, ignoring the way his stomach wants to twist as he holds out this olive branch of trust, “it’s Cody.”
Obi-Wan’s expression goes from confusion, to surprise, to something incredibly warm.
“Cody,” he repeats softly, as if testing out the sound of it on his tongue, before giving an approving nod. A smile remains on his face even as he returns to his work. “Thank you, Cody,” he murmurs, keeping his eyes carefully trained on the datapad at his desk. The Commander is grateful for it - he feels as if the vulnerability of further eye contact might make him combust right now. “It’s a fine name. I’m honoured to know it.”
If Cody feels his heart react to the softness of his Jedi’s tone in that moment, he doesn’t mention it.
______________________________
“Mister and Mister Emerin?”
Obi-Wan and Cody share a glance at the call across the docking bays. They’ve barely been parked for a minute, and they’re already out of time.
“I suppose that’s us,” Cody says with a heavy sigh, rolling his shoulders slightly. He looks at Obi-Wan, tilting his head with a silent question of ‘ready?’ and the Jedi nods, bringing the last of the bags with him down the gangway of the ship.
A tall, pale Nautolan woman with a checklist in hand approaches, teeth flashing a perfect, artificially white smile as Obi-Wan steps forwards to shake her hand.
“Charmed,” he drawls in a smooth, Outer Rim accent, his voice low with lazily drawn out syllables - a stark contrast to the sharp, crisp Coruscanti voice that Cody’s used to hearing. Beside the Jedi, he forces on a smile.
“You’re here to check us in?” he says, hoping that his voice comes across not nearly as unsure and out of place as he feels. The Nautolan nods, making a scribble on the flimsi paper she’s carrying, pocketing it and taking the bags from the two of them without asking.
“Here, I’ll get these for you and show you to the main building. Is this your first time staying with us?”
The woman chatters away to them as they make the walk from the docking bays to the resort itself. Obi-Wan is as content to make conversation as Cody is to let him. The clone hangs back a little, taking in the planet around him. Brilliant light beams down on the building ahead, even as it nears the start of sundown, making him squint a little. It’s…
Excessive is the primary word that comes to mind.
The docking bays themselves are massive, on an elevated platform above a calm looking ocean of tropical blue. The bridge they’re now on connects to a few perfectly sculpted beaches that are teeming with people even at this hour, and more pressingly, a building the size of the damn Senate. Cody’s far from an expert on architecture, but it’s clearly a recent build - large windows and extravagant relief work carved into the stone of the imposing structure, of various people or mythological beings that Cody imagines he probably should recognise but doesn’t.
It all seems to be purpose-built with the intention of making the space feel welcoming to those in a certain tax bracket.
Cody is undeniably not part of that tax bracket.
This area of the planet itself has almost definitely gone through some extensive terraforming by the looks of things, and he feels a little dizzy as he imagines the cost - coming from a corporation, no less. Part of the background provided for this mission detailed that Miphena, the planet they’re standing on, is essentially owned by the resort managers with no government to speak of. To call it ‘bleak’ would be underselling it.
They’re ushered inside by the woman with the increasingly grating customer service voice, brought through a pristine foyer tiled with marble underfoot. Cody is sure to make a mental note of that - that’s very slippery when covered in blood, so if they’re having to fight their way out, they should find another point of exit than this one.
He continues to sweep the rest of the room with an analytical eye. The main desk could be used as cover in a pinch, though it’s not in a particularly tactical location - the presence of stairs, an elevator, and double-doors through to the main events hall makes this an undesirable position to have to defend with too many points of ambush.
… Granted, it’s exceedingly unlikely they’ll be forced to stage a firefight here, but it can’t hurt to be prepared.
The receptionist leads them up to the seventh floor (with a lot of small-talk in the elevator that feels entirely unnecessary), hands them their keys for the room, drops their bags off and thanks the two profusely for their custom before leaving them alone once more. Obi-Wan and Cody share a glance, and the former smirks.
“After you, darling husband,” Obi-Wan says easily with a flourishing bow, still holding onto the accent despite the fact it’s just the two of them. The amused gleam in the Jedi’s eye only gets stronger as Cody rolls his eyes, pushing past him to enter into the room.
Much like the exterior of the hotel, it’s certainly extravagant. A large bed takes up most of the space, crisp white sheets with elaborate gold embroidery detailing the edges, and a plush red carpet beneath it. Every surface has some form of decoration, a vase of fake flowers here, a small metal sculpture there. A fairly incomprehensible piece of abstract art hangs above the bed, though what it’s intended to represent is entirely lost on Cody.
The two share another glance, silently communicating with one another, and get to work searching the room for any listening devices.
Cody heads directly for the mirror, carefully unhooking it from the wall to see if the garish item is the result of the need to obscure a bug of some kind, or if it’s just the result of terrible taste.
Hm. Terrible taste it is.
Once they both signal the all-clear, Obi-Wan relaxes a little, setting both of their bags down on the bed.
“Well,” he says mildly, glancing around with a disapproving gaze. “It’s certainly expensive.”
Cody snorts, following his eyeline. “Just how much did the Republic spend to send us here?”
Obi-Wan peers closely at the strange painting, letting out a soft hum. “I shudder to think.” He pauses as Cody wanders over to check out the balcony. “This surely can’t be an original work,” he mutters to himself, passing a hand over his beard and frowning in thought.
Cody can’t help but glance back with a raised brow.
“... Sir,” he says, and the Jedi interrupts him with a wave of his hand, still narrowing his eyes at the artwork.
“It’s Obi-Wan when we’re alone, Cody, you know that.”
“Obi-Wan,” he starts again, amused. “Please tell me you’re not critiquing the art–”
“If it’s there, it should be there with purpose. This is soulless. It’s nothing-”
“In a resort, Obi-Wan.”
The Jedi lets out a rather contemptuous scoff, before drawing back to meet Cody’s gaze. He folds his arms, shaking his head in faux disappointment. “If you’re not the type to appreciate a critique of art, my dear, then whyever did I marry you in the first place?”
Cody lets out a long suffering sigh, not missing a beat. “I ask myself the same thing every day, darling, believe me.”
That draws a laugh from his Jedi. Cody steps out to the balcony proper as Obi-Wan begins to unpack his bag.
The sun is drawing lower on the horizon now, painting the sky in picturesque golds and oranges as people slowly move in from the beach - a steady stream of holiday-goers and families making their way back to the hotel for the evening. Cody idly watches them, leaning out over the railing as he takes in the myriad of species, genders, and ages of the people who’ve come here for an escape. One thing seems to bind them all together despite the differences - that distinct aura of wealth that seems to permeate the very air here.
He can’t really put his finger on what it is. The way they carry themselves, maybe? The sea of perfect skin and hair, the precision in which they choose to dress… It’s all fairly alien to the Commander. None of it really feels real in the way that people tend to be. Give him the flawed mess of the Lower Levels any day.
“I’m going to go for a little wander,” Obi-Wan calls through from the bedroom. “Get the lay of the land, so to speak.”
Cody turns, stepping back into the lavish room and stretching slightly. He sighs as he feels a pleasant ache in his muscles.
“I’ll probably stay in,” he yawns, “get an early night. Didn’t sleep well last rotation, and I’d prefer to feel rested for tomorrow.”
Even though he technically hasn’t been awake for all that long, Cody figures it’d be best to get started on adjusting to local time as quickly as possible. They’ll need to be up at dawn, regardless of if they’re ready for it. The Jedi hums in response, slipping on his cloak and heading to the door.
“That sounds wise. I’ll try not to return too late - if you’re already asleep, I shall endeavour to join you as quietly as possible.” His gaze falls to where Cody stands, offering a small smile. “Feel free to claim either side of the bed. Comms are on, I’ll see you in a little while.”
With that, he’s disappeared off into the night, leaving Cody with the question of whether or not he should take the floor tonight dying on his tongue.
He blinks, a little stupidly, after the now closed door. It’s as if there wasn’t even a question of whether they would be sharing the bed in the Jedi’s mind. Which… Cody supposes there shouldn’t be, really.
He and Obi-Wan have shared tents before in the field countless times, slept closely on the ground when there hasn’t been space in various quarters they’ve been given. Hells, during a mission on Mygeeto two months ago, he’d had no qualms with combining their bedrolls together for warmth.
A real bed just… feels different. Cody isn’t quite sure why.
He gives a wary sidelong glance to the offending furniture, as if expecting it to bite him. The bed, for its part, stares back at him unblinkingly, its exorbitant number of pillows providing more fuel for Cody’s growing resentment of the damn thing.
The Commander shakes his head. He’s being ridiculous. With a sigh and a mental slap upside the head, he unpacks his own bag, glancing out every now and again to the progressing sunset as he changes into his sleepclothes.
He’s almost loath to admit it, but the view is gorgeous. The twin moons slowly rise into the sky, basking the ocean in an ethereal glow. If it weren’t for the fact that he can still hear tourists partying outside, he could be tricked into actually enjoying this.
Cody sets aside the outfits he’ll need for tomorrow - something casual for the day, and something more formal for a party that’ll be occurring in the evening - before putting his suitcase down on top of Obi-Wan’s, near the door.
Sinking down into bed, he’s further frustrated to find out how comfortable it feels, reluctantly admitting to himself that perhaps the richest of the rich in the galaxy do get some things right every now and again. Rarely.
He lets out a deep exhale, pleased to find that his mind feels considerably more settled now that they’re actually here at the mission location, a little more peaceful.
It’s a relief, to be certain - Cody doesn’t really know who he is if not for the calm, collected strategist that always has an answer. His lack of certainty as of late has been… Disquieting, to say the least.
He grasps the feeling of quietude with both hands, allowing it to pull him into the alluring drift of near-sleep.
He stirs a little when he hears Obi-Wan return, the door clicking closed ever so gently. The Jedi seems to be true to his word in keeping his movements as soundless as possible-
Well, that is at least until he takes a step further into the dark room and walks directly into the suitcases in front of him, letting out a hiss of pain.
Cody can’t quite conceal his ensuing huff of amusement. Obi-Wan seems decidedly less pleased, grumbling something under his breath.
The other man pads over to the other side of the bed, and Cody hears the distinctive rustle of clothes being removed. He lets out a slow breath, ensuring to stay stock still, facing the other way. Not that he could really see what was going on even if he did roll over, but…
“Sorry. I tried.” Obi-Wan’s whisper cuts through the darkness, genuine regret in his tone.
“You’re fine. Is your foot alright?”
The Jedi huffs. “Mortally wounded, I’m afraid. Amputation likely.”
“Sorry to hear that.”
The bed dips gently behind him as Obi-Wan gets in. Cody is suddenly very grateful that everything in this hotel is oversized - it at least means they can do this without threat of the two being close enough to touch. For one long moment, he’s hyper-aware of every shift, every slight movement from his Jedi, before he forces his eyes to close.
It all falls quiet after that, apart from the gentle sound of even breaths behind him. Cody unconsciously finds himself matching them, slow inhales and exhales that serve to soothe his suddenly racing heart. He tries not to think too hard about why his heart might be racing.
Cody swallows. Thank the stars he knows how to shield, because he has no idea what Obi-Wan would say if he could sense this… Whatever it is that’s gotten into him.
With a long exhale, he uses what his General had once taught him of meditation technique to forcibly quieten his mind. He’s not allowing himself to do this. Not again.
To his immense gratitude, with a little effort (and time spent visualising the movement of the ocean outside), the calm of earlier finds its way to him once again, soothing his mind and slowing his breaths to match that of the lapping water.
As he finds himself on the precipice of sleep once more, he hears a quiet murmur from the other side of the bed.
“Goodnight, Cody.”
Cody pulls the covers up a little tighter to himself, yawning as he does so. It takes him a moment to find his voice, and when he does, it’s uncharacteristically quiet.
