Feb 5
dare i say commander cody...
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dare i say commander cody...
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
One day, in the midst of Obi-Wan’s fifteenth year of life, he woke up with the conviction that something terrible was going to happen, and the feeling never left.
He had grown used to that feeling. It had come more and more frequently over the past three years, and he had long since stopped telling people or making a big deal of it. What was he supposed to say? ‘Oh, Master, I think we’re going to be put in a near-death situation sometime next week?’. Nobody gave a shit. Magical feelings of omnipresent doom weren’t that impressive when literally everybody had them. When the doom was omnipresent.
But this was different. This was really different. Obi-Wan wasn’t just certain that something dangerous or awful was going to happen - he felt as if there was some great catastrophe on the horizon.
First hour I've had at my computer in like five days and I have just BARELY posted it in time. This is for YOU. It is DEPRESSION.
Commander Cody
and the world tilts upon its axis
Summary: “You never told us.” Anakin’s words pierce directly into Ahsoka’s heart; she can’t imagine what they do to his master. That stricken feeling flits through the Force again before Obi-Wan can wrangle it again. At least it gets Anakin to look up. He looks torn, agonized, pained, but repeats, unsteady, “You never told us.”
“The past is not an easy thing for me to speak of.”
Notes: (Obligatory ‘everyone finds out about Obi-Wan’s shitty childhood’ fic.) Past Abuse/Violence, Slavery.
“It really isn’t a problem anymore,” Obi-Wan tells them all very reasonably. “I haven’t had a vision in years--not a clear one, anyway. Feelings, things like that, but nothing so concrete as they used to be. Master Qui-Gon taught me how to see past the feelings years ago.”
“You used to get Force visions,” Ahsoka says, tone rather shrill, “and you never told us?”
Anakin makes a loud choking noise deep in his throat. Cody, sitting on a crate of supplies near where Ahsoka and her master collapsed half an hour after their latest battle, shakes his head. Ahsoka pulls herself up to sit beside him, feeling rather as if something very important has been ripped away from her before she even knew it existed. He looks up at Obi-Wan, the only one standing out of all of them, and says, “I don’t understand what the big deal is.”
“There isn’t one,” Rex supplies. Skyguy tries to swat at him without taking his arm from over his eyes, but Rex moves out of the way and leans back against a wall of the Resolute. He shrugs. “Jedi are just dramatic like that.”
“Much as I dislike the generalization,” Obi-Wan interjects, “I have to agree in this case. Force visions can be upsetting and helpful in equal measure, and they faded from my mind a long time ago. I’m surprised my medical files even contain a record of those after all these years."
“What if they come back!” Anakin sits up, glaring. “You never even said anything. I’ve heard Master Windu talking about how forceful they can be--you cold pass out if a vision comes at the wrong time! I’ve heard some younglings are prone to seizures!”
The thought makes Ahsoka shudder. She wraps her arms around herself surreptitiously. Cody sends her a sympathetic look.
The next words out of Master Kenobi’s mouth make her blood go cold. “Well, yes, I know that, Anakin. I was the youngling Mace was speaking of.”
“What.”
Obi-Wan waves his commander off, though, and shakes his head. “Honestly, it’s fine now. We wouldn’t even need to have this useless conversation if you hadn’t sliced into my medical files, Anakin--”
Rex is already across the room and peering over Anakin’s shoulder as her master rifles through his datapad, so Ahsoka chalks Obi-Wan’s efforts up as a lost cause. She pulls her own datapad out and shuffles closer to Cody instead; Skyguy sent her a copy of her grandmaster's file as soon as he could manage. Something about not being able to trust Obi-Wan when he said he didn’t need to go to medical.
Ahsoka thinks that is the pot calling the kettle black, but--
“You have nerve damage?”
At Rex’s incredulous exclamation, Obi-Wan closes his eyes for a long, long moment. Then he opens them, runs a hand over his beard, and looks around for a place to sit. “This is going to be a long conversation, I see. Is everyone sure they wouldn’t like to move to, I don’t know, anywhere but the cargo hold, before we begin?”
“Shinies are everywhere else,” Rex points out briskly, “but the cargo hold is too cold for most of us. We run too warm to be comfortable here.”
“That isn’t good. You should’ve told us sooner--I’ll have to talk to Master Shaak Ti about what we can do for you.”
“Deflecting.” Anakin intones. In any other setting, his stern tone would make her laugh. Obi-Wan sighs again, and settles down into a meditation pose across from his former padawan, fixing them all with a half-exasperated, half-doting look.
“Yes,” Obi-Wan says. “I have nerve damage. I’m sure you’ve all seen how many layers I wear? It’s to help my blood circulation. I can’t keep myself warm enough otherwise, because I can’t feel how cold my surface skin is until it’s too late. So, extra clothing all the time, just in case. I can deal with a little sweat if the outcome is less chance of frostbite.”
“ Why do you have nerve damage?”
“Have you seen how many times I’ve been electrocuted?” Obi-Wan answers. He’s too serene for Ahsoka’s liking.
“I’ve been electrocuted twice as much as you have,” Anakin points out. At his shoulder, Rex nods, but stops when Anakin snaps his gaze to his captain. He turns back to his former master. “And I don’t have nerve damage.”
“You’ve been electrocuted twice as much as I have been recently.” Her grandmaster normally looks a little tired, but this conversation seems to be getting to him more than most; he rubs at his face again, and, with his hand still over his eyes, says, “Electro-whips and prods were the weapon of choice in the mines.”
The words are quiet, like Obi-Wan really meant for them to be under his breath, but it makes every spine in the room go rigid.
Very slowly, Anakin sits forward on his knees. His datapad slips from his lap. Rex only just catches it before it clatters to the floor. Ahsoka has never seen her master’s eyes look as sharp as they are now. “Which mines, Master? And what were you doing there?”
Obi-Wan’s lips thin. “You do realize I’ve had an entire life without you? Twenty years or so, in fact. Things did happen to me before you came along.”
It’s always been a fact that Obi-Wan is older than herself and her master. It’s never bothered Ahsoka before--until now. To know he’s been alone--without them, at least--for so long? The clones are all artificially aged to be around Obi-Wan’s age, maybe a little younger. It’s easy for Ahsoka to forget they haven’t been around forever, that Cody hasn’t been one step behind his general every day of both their lives. It turns her stomach.
“Answer the question!” Anakin all but demands.
Obi-Wan’s hand falls from his face and for a second Ahsoka can detect something stricken in the Force before his expression smooths over into an artificial calm. “It’s really not--”
“No.” Cody says. It’s all he can seem to get out. Ahsoka tries not to flinch at the darkening mood in the Force and reaches out to loosely grip Cody’s wrist. After a moment, he turns his hand over and offers her his palm as Obi-Wan begins, reluctantly, to speak. Ahsoka takes it.
Obi-Wan bites his lip when he tells them about being sent away from the temple.
It rocks Ahsoka to her core when he speaks about the situation on Bandomeer, even more so with the revelation that he nearly wasn’t a Jedi. A Jedi Order without Obi-Wan Kenobi? A Council without his guidance? A GAR without the Negotiator?
Her lineage without his support?
“You had to fight a Hutt without anyone to help you.” Anakin sounds more choked than he did before. Ahsoka wishes she could reach out and soothe him in the Force, but she’s doing her best to keep her shields up. The Force knows how Master Obi-Wan is feeling right now.
“Master Qui-Gon helped me when he could,” Obi-Wan assures. His voice isn't as steady as she’s used to, but he carries on admirably. It makes Ahsoka wonder how long it took him to perfect his sabacc face. Her heart twists in her chest. “He’s also the reason I only spent a few weeks in the mines--I was fitted with a Force-inhibiting collar, you see, so I had to have help navigating my way out with the rest of the--” He cuts himself off. It takes a minute for the gears to turn in her head, for Ahsoka to realize he doesn’t intend to continue.
“The?” Rex prompts, face and tone bleak. “The miners?”
Obi-Wan actually does wince now. “The slaves.”
“It was a bomb collar,” Anakin says. "You were fitted with a bomb collar." His face is blank until Obi-Wan nods, at which point his expression seems to crumple in on itself. Anakin puts his head between his knees and breathes loudly through his mouth. Obi-Wan pauses and refuses to go on until Anakin raises his head and glares her grandmaster into submission. In the back of her mind, in the only small corner not screaming in horror, Ahsoka hopes one day she’ll be able to cow her own master like that.
She regrets the thought as soon as Obi-Wan speaks, quiet and too soft into the dead silence of the air around them, about Melida/Daan. “They were just children,” Obi-Wan whispers. His hands clench and unclench on his thighs and it is all Ahsoka can do not to let go of Cody’s fingers and throw her arms around him. “I couldn’t leave them behind, even if it cost me my place among the Jedi. They had no one else to turn to. You must understand?”
It explains so much of his file--parts of it are redacted, too early in his apprenticeship to signal anything but disaster, and he’s reported too many times to the Halls of Healing--too many times he’s had to be carried in. If Ahsoka had the same medical record her grandmaster does, she’d have to get herself grievously injured on every other mission, and she’s grown up in a Force forsaken warzone.
She’s positive she doesn’t want to hear the rest.
Ahsoka isn’t sure how long it has been when Obi-Wan’s voice peters out soon after his explanation of Cerasi’s sacrifice on his behalf (and Force, did everyone Obi-Wan ever loved have to keep dying in his arms, it’s so disgusting, it’s awful, how could this happen so much to just one person, to someone she loves--). After a long moment of quiet, Ahsoka finds the strength, herculean as it is, to lift her gaze from where it has been fixed on her knees. Her grandmaster stares into middle space just the same as her, and his face is as she has never seen it before--stone cold, closed off and unwelcoming. It’s sort of like when Skyguy gets into one of his moods.
Speaking of Skyguy, he doesn’t seem to be faring much better; his head is between his knees again but his hands, like Rex’s beside him, are clenched into fists. He’s shaking so hard she can see it from across the room. Ahsoka realizes that at some point Cody let go of her own hand, and glances around to see him clenching his bucket on his knees fit to crush it between his very human palms.
Then her grandmaster draws himself up into a proper sitting position and sighs, a light puff of air that Ahsoka has come to learn is his way of reorienting himself. “It worked out in the end. Qui-Gon came back for me when I called and was able to help bring balance to the planet--something I couldn’t have done alone. I was admitted back into the Order as his apprentice and then--” Obi-Wan’s lips twitch into a sardonic smile. “Well, nothing much happened until we went to Mandalore, but you know just about as much as I am willing to tell you about that experience.”
The attempt at humor falls a little too flat.
“You never told us.” Anakin’s words pierce directly into Ahsoka’s heart; she can’t imagine what they do to his master. That stricken feeling flits through the Force again before Obi-Wan can wrangle it again. At least it gets Anakin to look up. He looks torn, agonized, pained, but repeats, unsteady, “You never told us.”
“The past is not an easy thing for me to speak of.”
“You didn’t tell me.”
Anakin’s eyes spark with heat. She can’t see much of Obi-Wan’s face from here when he turns his head, just enough to know they’re having one of their silent conversations. Those have become few and far between, of late. It’s almost a comfort to see.
“You were my padawan.” Obi-Wan says slowly, like he’s formulating his words as he thinks of them. Ahsoka herself feels drained, empty, a husk--she can’t imagine how he must feel right now. “Ahsoka is my grandpadawan. Rex and Cody are my subordinates. It’s incredibly inappropriate, not to mention irresponsible and near abusive, to unload such traumatic, personal stories upon those who cannot legally or knowingly consent--”
“Sir, permission to speak freely?” Cody doesn’t wait for more than a surprised, dry laugh, before he says, “That is absolutely the biggest crock of bantha fodder I’ve ever heard.”
“Perhaps. That does not mean it is not true. I should not have even told you now--I just don’t want you to find out from some clinical diagnosis instead. You all deserve better.”
“Oh, I have no doubt you believe everything you just said, even that kark you just spewed. It’s just horrifying to know you think it.” Cody’s grip relaxes on his helmet with no little effort. He breathes in through his nose, out through his mouth once, and then opens his eyes and nods decisively first to Rex, who nods back, and then to Obi-Wan, who looks puzzled. “But we’re here to help, Sir. No matter what.”
Obi-Wan’s smile pulls a little wider. “Even if I don’t want it, hm?”
“Especially then,” Rex agrees. “Right, General? Commander?”
“Of course.” Ahsoka says, the words struggling so much to stampede out of her mouth that they trip over themselves.
“Always.” Anakin croaks. He’s the first to scramble to his feet as his master rises. He’s the first to throw himself at Obi-Wan. He’s the first to wrap him in an embrace that lasts maybe a bit longer than Master Kenobi’s sense of decorum would prefer. (Not that she sees her grandmaster complaining, of course.)
Anakin is not the last.
Rex settles for a nod and a clap on the shoulder. It’s only his position closer to Skyguy and Obi-Wan that gets her captain there before his commander; Ahsoka shoves him bodily out of the way and wraps her arms as tight as she can around Obi-Wan’s middle. Her skin itches and her muscles flex with the need to squeeze the sadness, the pain, the terrible past right out of him, even if she knows that’s silly. She tries anyway. Subtly, of course. Obi-Wan holds her back, just as he held Anakin before her, warm and all-encompassing and so safe. (Now she knows why. Now she knows he needs to feel that she and her master before her and every youngling after them is safe, that they are protected against a world that threatened to swallow him up and spit out his bones.)
Cody is last, stepping up to his general as Ahsoka pulls away reluctantly. He holds out a hand and Obi-Wan, without missing a beat (although his eyes are a little misty, but so are Ahsoka’s, and Anakin's, and Rex’s), grips his commander’s forearm. He goes very still when Cody pulls him into a keldabe. Ahsoka turns her eyes away when he lets out a trembling breath. Cody speaks, but his rumbling tone is too low for Ahsoka to pick out words. It’s alright, though; they aren’t for her.
“Mishuk gotal'u meshuroke, pako kyore.” Cody murmurs, slightly louder. Obi-Wan scoffs quietly and Ahsoka turns her head just in time to see Cody smirk back, pull away, and shake Obi-Wan’s arm, just a little, friendly, familiar. It makes the clawing, cloying thing in her chest that has grown throughout the evening finally ease. Skyguy wraps an arm around her, guiding them both out of the cargo hold and back to their quarters. He’s got the right idea--she’s very tired now.
Before the door closes behind Rex as they step outside, she hears Cody’s last words to Obi-Wan and wonders what they mean.
“ Aliit ori'shya tal'din.”
The Force is noticeably lighter when Ahsoka wakes in the morning.
here’s a fanart for @skywalking-across-the-galaxy and @collegefangirl3791 star wars/hunger games crossover, featuring peacekeeper!cody
Idea for a codywan fic I might never write but think about constantly:
I love Cody and Obi-Wan being sappy and in love as much as the next person but my favorite dynamic for them is unrealized lovers. They know they’re in love and the other person loves them too...and they do absolutely nothing about it. They go over and over and over it in their heads and they see no way to be together. The biggest obstacle is the chain of command: Obi-Wan would never in a million years take advantage of his position of power and Cody knows that too—it’s what makes it worse, that he knows any emotion from his general is genuine and unmotivated by power and yet to respect Obi-Wan’s wishes he can never reach out.
Obi-Wan is in an even worse position because he’s fighting for clone rights alongside Organa and Amidala but it’s not going anywhere and now he’s not only guilty bc he’s in love with his commander but he’s also in love with a clone who can’t even be granted standard rights even though Obi-Wan is trying so hard to help. Cody doesn’t even have the right to say no. “It’s disgusting,” Obi-Wan thinks, “what’s wrong with me?”
Cody’s dealing with the guilt of being in love with a Jedi; not only does he have absolutely no chance but just by giving Obi-Wan the idea that they could be together he’s tempting his general away from the path he knows Obi-Wan has striven all his life to walk. “It’s selfish,” Cody thinks, “what’s wrong with me?”
And it finally comes to a head one night after a hard battle. There were many losses. They both only just made it out alive. They’re pouring over maps and correspondence and documents. And they somehow end up holding hands; it’s so tender, it’s so warm. Cody’s palms are callused; Obi-Wan’s touch is so gentle it’s feather-light, barely there. Cody wants to hold on tighter because of it, but he doesn’t dare give Obi-Wan a reason to slip away. Obi-Wan knows he should pull back but no one has touched him so gently in--years, maybe. It’s so sweet.
“We could.” Cody offers, soft and kind and everything Obi-Wan needs. “Just...not tell anyone.”
“We couldn’t,” Obi-Wan admits and Cody is nodding before he even finishes. “It would kill us.”
And Cody knows he’s right. He is right. It’s just such a sweet dream to have.
Their hands linger and linger and linger--and then they slip away too soon. The general and the commander never hold hands again.
only following orders
Summary: Cody's communicator has been broken for weeks and he's been too stubborn to fix it; in other, related news, Order 66 isn't set off, Order 6 is, and the clones justify their overprotectiveness with military regulations in the aftermath.
Cody’s comm unit has been on the fritz for weeks now. It hasn’t gotten as bad as that one time when Rex’s got shorted out completely after an unfortunate fall into a river, nor as bad as when Waxer’s broke so badly it shocked him the next time he tried to turn it on. There’s just been some interference, a couple dropped calls (thankfully nothing too important--Cody’s been sure to take anything extremely delicate through the comm in his helmet, and he doesn’t really mind being able to truthfully tell some senators that, no, actually, he couldn’t get around to asking General Kenobi to give them special treatment, and you know what, they were actually breaking up a bit). He’s got to go to the quartermaster for it soon anyway; it wouldn’t do to have one of the highest commanders in the GAR be unreachable, especially so close to the end of the war. He resolves to get it switched out after the Utapau mission.
Cody is tired . The Separatists are in strong force on Utapau, and while Obi-Wan is more than capable of holding his own with Grievous, Cody worries. It’s a dignified worry, but he has to admit that it’s a little overwhelming when enhanced by nine or ten cups of coffee and about a gallon of adrenaline coursing through his blood. The fighting is over but he hasn’t seen Obi-Wan since returning his lightsaber, and he always feels better when he can keep his general within eyesight. It's driving him nearly to distraction. That’s his excuse for opening the call from a secure channel on his handheld comm rather than his helmet and Cody is sticking to it. The miniaturized figure makes Cody arch his brows behind his visor, all flowing robes and black hood. Very dramatic. Cody’s seen better at the Jedi Temple on a lazy Sunday morning before laundry day.
“Commander Cody, execute Order 6-- bzzt . ” The Emperor’s figure wavers, sways, and disappears as his order takes hold. The comm does, in fact, let off a static shock at that, but Cody’s already too far gone to do more than let it fall from numb fingers.
“Good soldiers follow orders,” Cody says, his lips moving like someone else is controlling them. He raises his boot and crushes the comm unit under his heel. It’s like Cody is watching all of this happen from very far away even though he knows he’s stuck in his own body. He grinds the broken plastic and metal into the dirt with vehement anger, then raises his hand to his visor and retransmits the order throughout the 212th. After, he reaches up and snaps off the transmitter on his helmet too, just for good measure. Parjai Squad is in the air again, and Sergeant Barlex can be trusted to transmit Order 6 throughout the rest of the GAR as soon as Cody’s relay reaches the 2nd Airborne Company before cutting off his communications too.
Order 6 is completed. All around him, the 212th is destroying their communication units as fast as possible; Boil chucks his straight off a cliff. Cody gives him a nod when he snaps to a salute afterwards. The Order still pricks at him, though, a strange, slick feeling, oozing along his spine into his brainstem. It burrows teeth into his mind, like the jaws of some great beast shaking its prey by the throat. “Good soldiers follow orders,” Boil says, still not dropping his salute, and Cody finds himself repeating the words back mindlessly.
Good soldiers follow orders. But his orders have been completed. What now?
“Orders, we need new orders,” he hears one soldier mutter nearby. His head pounds, Order 6 curling, white hot, through Cody’s frontal lobe. There’s no way he can make sure the order is carrying out across the other battalions and it stabs at him. What other orders do they have? Cody puts a hand to his bucket, desperate to rub at his temples. There’s a wetness on his face; he thinks his nose might be bleeding. Rex used to go over the rulebook with him before all the batchmates were tested on Kamino.
“Listen to this one,” Rex says, laughing in the semi-darkness of their bunk. “‘Order 49: in the event that communication with the Republic or Senate is unavailable under presumption of corrupted or compromised systems, secure Jedi command as quickly as possible through any means necessary. Treat any obstacles with hostile measures.’ They want us to secure the Jedi ? What do the Jedi need protecting from?”
“Execute Order 49,” Cody shouts; his voice breaks, weaker than it should be. This headache is killing him. He sees Boil jump into action, shouting Cody’s order to those nearest him. Then they shout too, on and on, until Order 49 turns into a wave through the ranks. The rest of Ghost Company immediately begin to get the ships ready for departure; some of the gunships take off, getting into position to escort The Negotiator to safety. The bombardment measures and cannons the 212th had set up to break into Grievous's compound are dismantled and put away in seconds. My battalion, Cody thinks proudly, is very good at following orders .
My battalion, Cody realizes, are not themselves. But then he hears a call of his name and rank and the thought is lost to him.
He turns just as General Kenobi’s mount reaches level ground and Kenobi disembarks. The ever present worry eases slightly at the sight, but then Order 49 slams into his skull. It is all Cody can do not to rush to the man and bundle him into the nearest airship. He has to secure the Jedi. He has to follow orders. Cody is a good soldier.
“Commander Cody!” Kenobi calls again across a quickly clearing battlefield. The Jedi’s head swivels, taking in the soldiers preparing to leave. “We’ve made fast work of the end of the war, but I never thought your brothers would be so quick to get back to Coruscant.” General Kenobi nears him now, dropping the reins he’s been holding onto and patting the beast once on the neck before stepping to his commander’s side. He’s smiling. “That anxious to be rid of me, are you?”
Cody opens his mouth, a moment of clarity seizing him. Obi-Wan’s bright eyes gaze straight into his through his bucket and Cody thinks, what am I doing? But what comes out is, “Good soldiers follow orders.”
The general’s brow furrows. “Come again?”
“The Emperor has issued Order 6, sir.” Cody says. His jaw works, chewing over the words he actually wants to say, chewing over what is happening? Obi-Wan, what's happening to me? “Communications are compromised. Order 49 is now in effect. Immediate retreat is necessary.”
“Emp--Order--Cody, what?” Kenobi’s hands come up, reaching out, and Cody tenses, but he only places them on Cody’s shoulders. The gentleness is strange. No commanding officer has gripped him so carefully before. “Cody, what’s wrong? What are you saying?”
“Order 6, General,” Cody replies, just as helpless and useless as Kenobi’s hands on his shoulders. His own hands, working independent of his brain, reach out and steady the man before him. The Negotiator is almost ready. Boil and Waxer will give the high sign when they’re ready to board. In the meantime, Cody slips Kenobi’s communicator from his belt, deftly palming it. He keeps a sharp eye on Kenobi’s expression at the same time, because the man is paling fast and looks a little green around the gills. Order 49 dictates he must see to the Jedi’s wellbeing and if that means he’s got to lend his bucket as a makeshift--well, bucket, then so be it.
The Jedi reels. “What is Order 6? Who is the Emperor? Why--why would you--”
“The Emperor transmitted Order 6--get rid of all communication units, effective immediately--approximately twenty-four minutes and thirty-six seconds ago, General.” He raises Kenobi’s own communicator and, ignoring the man’s squawking protest, slams it into the rock beneath their feet. “Communications are compromised.”
“Why would you ever listen to--”
“Good soldiers follow orders.”
Somewhere in the back of his head, Cody wants to scream, wants to rage. His chest fights to hyperventilate. His eyes are watering. His nose is bleeding even more now. There’s a pronounced trembling in his limbs; the Jedi must notice, because Kenobi reaches out and grips his hands, bringing them up to his chest, cradling them there. Kenobi's heart pounds underneath his knuckles.
“Cody, please.” Kenobi’s eyes search his; distantly, Cody wonders what he feels like in the Force. Whatever it is, judging from the look on his general’s face, it’s not good. “I don’t understand. Who is the Emperor?”
Again, his mouth opens on its own. “That’s classified information, sir. Order 7 includes a clause dictating that any ruling Emperor’s identity must be protected from public knowledge, for that individual’s protection and continued survival.”
“Of course it does,” Kenobi replies. “Because Force forbid any of this is ever easy .” He gathers Cody’s fingers into one hand and reaches up to place his other palm against the side of his commander’s neck. His fingertips brush the bare skin where Cody’s blacks end just before the bottom of his bucket. Cody’s spine snaps straight, shoulders coming up, but Kenobi holds on, gently, gently. In his mind, Cody screams.
Yes, yes, it’s me, I’m here, he pushes out with all his might. His Orders swirl through him, trying to push him back, keep him down. There’s a door waiting to lock behind him somewhere in his mind, hiding a deep, dark black Cody doesn’t think he’ll ever return from. He doesn’t know how the Force works, per se, but trying to push his thoughts out into it is better than surrendering to oblivion. I’m here!
General Kenobi draws in a sharp breath and pulls away slightly. The hand Cody instantly pulls from Kenobi's and drops to his waist flexes involuntarily, but the Jedi doesn’t step back. “I heard you,” Kenobi says, quick and low, like he doesn’t want anyone else to hear. “I heard you Cody. I’ll help. Let me help you, alright?”
“Negative. Assistance is not needed; Order 49 states Jedi command be secured before all other forces.” Over Kenobi’s shoulder, Boil waves. Cody sends him a nod. “Order 49 is now in effect, sir. I have to ask you to get on the ship.”
“Cody--” Kenobi cuts off with a frustrated noise and drops their hands but stays close. Cody’s body stiffens, ready for resistance. Cody’s mind reels from the lost contact. “Commander. I--please state Order 49’s parameters for me.”
“Jedi command must be secured at all costs in the event of total communications failure, sir. Any hostile forces may be taken out by any means necessary to secure the Jedi. Any resistance from Jedi may be disregarded and treated as command being incapacitated. Power structure moves to next in line until threats to Jedi have been neutralized.” General Kenobi’s face does some interesting gymnastics throughout the explanation, but he doesn’t start yelling or running, which Cody takes as a good sign. He also seems distracted; this works in Cody’s favor, though, because Kenobi doesn’t realize his commander has begun slowly walking them both towards where Boil waits on the landing platform. As soon as they begin the trek towards the ship Cody’s headache eases.
“And all these orders come from the Emperor?” His face is still troubled. Within himself, Cody feels the old urge to reach out and brush his fingers over his fringe, hold on until the lines in Obi-Wan’s face smooth away, but he can’t seem to act on it. Then Kenobi’s eyes snap up to his visor again.
The Jedi stops moving. Cody takes another step and turns his back to the ship, carefully keeping hold of him. He doesn’t tighten his grip, but it’s secure; if Kenobi wants to get away, he’ll have to use the Force, which Cody knows he’d never do. Obi-Wan never uses the Force on his men. “Yes sir. If we could keep moving, Order 49 instructs us to get Jedi out of active warzones, General.”
The general doesn’t move. His feet drag when Cody takes a step back, pulling him along, but he doesn’t fight. “An Emperor--the Republic has fallen.”
“Sir?”
A Kenobi distracted is a Kenobi easily moved. Cody doesn’t mind keeping quiet if it means Order 49 doesn’t stab quite so sharply into the backs of his eyes. His nose has nearly stopped bleeding. It’s almost enough for him to be able to open his mouth and say something not pertaining to orders, but then he catches himself and his jaw shuts with an audible click.
“An Emperor with the power to topple the Republic--Only a Sith could--” Kenobi’s eyes are glazed over, far away, and within his own mind, Cody hides the bright beam of hope that lights in him. “But why would a Sith protect Jedi?”
“I don’t know, General.” Boil waves them in and Cody gives Waxer the go-ahead to raise the ramp after them. Something aching and nervous in his chest eases once his general has set foot on The Negotiator, but his shoulders are still tense and high. It’s not enough. Kenobi is shaking under his hands, he’s distant. His face is bruised, his clothes scuffed and battered. His hair is covered in dust. He’s fresh from battle and likely experiencing emotional and psychological turmoil. Cody would be operating within the parameters of Order 49 if he were to take Kenobi to rest in his private quarters--so he does. Kenobi doesn’t speak again until Cody’s gotten him settled on the edge of his bunk. He isn’t receptive to being pushed gently to lay down, so Cody gives up on that for a moment and goes to the bridge to confirm take off.
When he returns, the general is pacing the length of his quarters, gripping at his hair and muttering under his breath. Cody assesses the situation and drops his blaster and bucket by the door before entering, hands up like he’s approaching a scared animal. Order 49 was correct; command structure needed power taken from the Jedi right now. Kenobi is more rattled than he’s ever seen him. Inside, Cody feels about the way Obi-Wan looks.
“A Sith wouldn’t protect a Jedi!” Kenobi exclaims when he catches sight of his commander. Cody pauses and nods. Best to agree with him for now. “Unless they got something out of it--like, say if the Sith was at the center of the Republic and needed to make himself look good to politicians before setting off a galactic war! ” His voice rises in pitch at the end, his eyes wild. “I can’t believe it, I’ve been so blind--Dooku even told me--”
All the blood drains from Kenobi’s face. Cody lurches forward on the balls of his feet because for a second it looks like he might faint. Then General Kenobi whirls around and starts rummaging through his desk. “The Senate ! I sent Anakin there for years, I knew there was something off about the Chancellor, I knew it . And--and Padme, and Bail, Commander Fox, they’re all there-- Cody, where is my spare communicator?”
“Communications are compromised. The crew would have gone through each room to make sure no unit was left for us to be hacked or tracked with.”
General Kenobi turns back to him, looking near feral, a strange light in his eyes, just on the edge of hysterical. “Oh, well that’s just perf--urk! ”
He cuts off suddenly as his head jerks back on his neck like Cody's just struck him across the face. Cody, whose hands have been hanging uselessly by his sides, lunges forward to catch his commanding officer before he slides to the floor. He thinks for a moment that he has actually fainted now, but Kenobi’s blue eyes flutter open and shut once, twice, three times before he gasps and opens them wide. There’s burst blood vessels coloring his sclera as he pants. Cody adjusts his grip on the Jedi, wrapping both arms around him. He looks like he needs something solid to hang onto. Order 49 tells him Cody needs to provide that, and for once his inner voice doesn’t try to fight it. “General!”
Kenobi doesn’t come fully back to himself until Cody’s managed to heft him up and transfer him to the bed. It’s little more than a cot but it’s better than the metal floor; Cody lets Order 49 push his hands into bringing up the covers around his general, smoothing out the wrinkles. Kenobi mutters something under his breath but whatever happened, he’s definitely not all there yet. Cody goes to the ensuite and returns with a damp cloth. The process of wiping blood and grit from Kenobi’s face is familiar and warming; it’s almost enough to let Cody push his fringe from his face, to tell him he doesn’t know what’s happening but that he loves him, to tell him to run--
But then Cody stops himself because why would he do that? Order 49 says he has to keep watch over Kenobi, not let him flee.
“Anakin--” Kenobi murmurs. Cody leans closer to hear. “Something--Cody, something terrible has happened to Anakin--I can’t feel him through our bond anymore. I’m supposed to be able to feel him in the Force. I don’t know--I don’t know what to do .”
“The 501st will secure General Skywalker as per Order 49 stipulations after they have carried out Order 6, sir. He will be safe.” Cody hesitates, fighting himself, fighting Order 49, fighting the Emperor. Through gritted teeth that want to bite off his tongue more than let the words out, Cody whispers, “ I’m here, Obi-Wan. ”
Hands close around the sides of his head just as white hot pain lances through his skull again, the orders punishing him. Obi-Wan looks right into his eyes, bruised and beaten and just as lost as Cody, and says, “I know, Cody. I’m here too. I’m here with you.”
It’s all Cody can ask of Obi-Wan now. Cody curls as close as the body-which-is-not-his-body will allow and prays it will be enough.
“It’s--it’s alright,” Obi-Wan assures softly, a little too fast to be truthful. He’s bleeding from his nose too. Cody wipes it away. “I--we’ll go somewhere safe, just like you want, and we’ll find--we’ll find Ahsoka, she’ll be with Commander Rex and they can help find Anakin. We’ll--we’ll fight the Sith together, Cody. I swear it.”
“I have to keep you safe,” Cody says, and means it in every way he knows. “I will keep you safe.”
“In that, Cody, I have the utmost trust. I always have.”
hand over fist
Summary: Cody is one step behind Obi-Wan Kenobi in all things.
Warnings: blood, injuries, dead bodies, no major character death. AO3
Cody is one step behind Obi-Wan Kenobi in all things.
He feels safest following his commanding officer, one step behind and to the right. He slotted into the space at Kenobi’s shoulder immediately after the first battle the Jedi led them into and simply never left. His home is at Kenobi’s side, one step behind. He’s always been prepared to follow Obi-Wan wherever he goes.
So it is no surprise to him that, one moment after he sees Kenobi go down in the field, a blaster bolt rips into his own side and tears its way out of him again. His ribs cave, his knees buckle, and Cody falls. Pain lances through him when his shoulder jars against the solid rock underneath him; Cody jostles, cries out, and slumps on his side.
It’s hard to figure out what’s going on; rain lashes against his face, and even through his armor and his blacks his skin is going numb. It’s a mixed bag--on the one hand, the numbing cold means the blaster wound doesn’t hurt half as much as it should, but on the other he can’t assess the actual damage if he can’t feel anything. His right arm doesn’t have full range of movement, and when he’d landed on his left hand something had made an ominous snapping sound. His elbow had gone out from under him right after. The storm that had rolled in on them soon after the bombardment had started is darkening rather than letting up, and paired with the wind driving the rain nearly sideways, his visibility is down to nil.
Cody has lost sight of Obi-Wan.
The thought sticks with him as the haze settles over his mind. Cody drifts in a strange grey fog, pain clouding him. The sounds of blaster fire and his brothers’ shouts are distant now; he feels the rumble of machinery through the ground beneath him, but it’s far away. Moving hurts too much; it radiates a stabbing agony up through his chest, spreads into his throat and his lungs and his mouth. It tastes of copper. He breathes through it, and drifts.
Cody has lost sight of Obi-Wan.
He should have passed out by now. Cody knows this, just as he knows he’s lost time. He isn’t unconscious, not yet, not like he should be, but he’s not all there. The fog is less painful now. The fog is kind.
Cody has lost sight of Obi-Wan.
The rain slows down. Mud splashes against Cody’s face, clogs his mouth, and sets off a coughing fit. It coats the side of his head, spreads to his nostrils and blocks his breath. Water seeps into the seams of his lips, and when he opens his mouth to try to clear his airways, it tries to drown him. He jackknifes in an attempt to get upright and screams as the wound pulls at his gut. He feels something tear again. He flops back, limp like a dead fish. Someone is letting out a pathetic sounding whimper nearby.
Cody has lost sight of Obi-Wan.
It takes precious minutes for Cody to catch his breath again. The fog has been wiped away, but he still can’t see very well. There are bodies around him, looming out of the darkness like distant mountain ranges. He can only raise his head a few inches, collapsed prone as he is, but he just needs something--some sign, anything--
There.
There is little light left, but the burning silver of a dropped lightsaber is a sight Cody’s gotten used to over time. He could pick it out with his eyes closed now. The weapon almost taunts him, lying less than a klick away. Obi-Wan must be nearby; Cody had been sprinting to catch up when the Jedi fell. Cody just needs to find him.
This lightsaber is your life , Obi-Wan’s lecture to Skywalker echoes in his head. Cody isn’t in the business of leaving his general’s life unprotected.
Turning over is the worst part. He knows without trying that he’s not going to be able to get his feet under him, so crawling it is. Cody digs his elbow into the ground beneath him, now thankful that the rain has softened the mud enough from him to sink a grip into it. It’s just enough leverage to topple himself on his front, but his ribs scream in protest when his weight bears down on them. Black and white spots flood Cody’s vision and he thinks he must yell again, but he’s not sure. He’s probably lost his voice by now anyway. The copper taste is back. He spits the blood out when his eyes clear enough to pick up that silver glint again. Cody’s thoughts fluctuate wildly, but the one thing he can latch onto is the spine-tingling fear that if he loses sight of the weapon again it might get lost in the dirt and the mud and the rain. He might lose Obi-Wan.
His left wrist is swollen to nearly twice its size but the cold is working with Cody, allowing him to dig his forearms into the mud above his head without too much pain. Reach out with his right makes the wound pull again and there’s a gush of warmth against the numb skin of his abdomen, so shocking it sets off pins and needles. His blood is mixing with the dust of this Force-forsaken planet. He knows it is the blood of one vod among many.
Cody keeps his eyes on Obi-Wan’s lightsaber.
Hand over hand, fistful of mud after fistful of mud, Cody drags himself across the battlefield. His progress is painstaking, pulling and digging into his wound, especially when he crawls over rocks he can’t make out in the dimness. He has to push the limbs of unresponsive fallen soldiers out of the way. The rain trickles into Cody’s eyes but he can’t blink, can’t afford to take his gaze off the one sign he has that Obi-Wan was ever here with him in the first place.
“Kote?”
The harsh whisper comes from somewhere on his left. Drained and gasping, inhaling more dirt than air at this point, Cody pauses, body falling momentarily limp. He rests his temple on his bicep, but doesn’t look around even though he opens his mouth, because the saber is only a little farther now. He could get there in twenty minutes if he kept up the pace--he just needs to rest for a minute. Just a minute.
“Who’s there?” He rasps. His throat feels like the quartermaster took sandpaper to it.
“Boil, Kote.”
Cody breathes. The black lump at the edge of his vision twitches; he sees his brother's head turn towards him but he can’t make out Boil’s face. He can hear the fear in his voice clear enough anyway. “Cody!”
“I’m here,” he says. “I’m awake.”
“Good. Can’t--can’t fall asleep now.”
“The General went down.” Cody is scared to blink, but the saber is still there when he opens his eyes again. Boil swears faintly. “I can see his jetii’kad.”
“He’s gotta be near.” Boil finishes for him and Cody feels absurdly grateful. It’s getting even harder to breathe. More warmth rushes out of his wound and meets the mud. His brother has to pause between each word to breathe and Cody clings to each rattling noise it makes in Boil’s chest. “Can you make it?”
“I will.” There is no other option.
The lump that is his brother moves again, wriggling towards him, and Boil says, “Here. Let me help.”
Boil’s grip on his left arm slips twice, slick from rainwater. He pulls so hard Cody thinks he might pop it right out of the socket, but Boil gets him a yard or two forward all the same, so he doesn’t mention it. Cody grunts his thanks and as he steels himself, reaching out for new handfuls of mud and rock, he feels Boil’s shove at his knees propel him just that bit farther.
As he struggles forward, Boil’s voice rings out with new volume. He is hoarse, faltering, but his words make the brothers Cody can make out on the ground nearby startle. “Commander’s going for the General! Help him.”
Boil breaks down coughing after that, sounding too wet and deep, and then the noise is carried off by the wind and Cody can’t think about it anymore. Just beyond the silver of the lightsaber, he sees another body. There are pale fingers lying on the ground, curled slightly, reaching for the Jedi weapon; Cody’s heart thumps hard enough that it might break right out of his abused ribcage.
More hands push and pull at him as Cody drags himself across the battlefield. Waxer whispers some encouragement at him from near his left ear. The vode work together to haul Cody towards their Jedi as fast as their injuries allow. But in the end, the last few yards are void of any allies, and Cody has to pull his own weight to the end of the line.
The lightsaber is cold in his grip, even colder than Cody himself; it would’ve been warm if it were in use recently. Cody is unsure of how long it’s been since Obi-Wan went down. He pulls the weapon to his chest, uncaring of the awkward position as he lunges the last few inches towards the body beyond. Agony flares through him. The fingers are limp in his grip as Cody clutches at them; his gloves make it hard to tell the temperature of the body. But when he tugs, gasping for breath, they flinch and twitch in his.
“ General.”
“ Cody. You came to get me.”
His Jedi’s voice curls around his name with familiar warmth, surprise coloring it. Cody tries to form his mouth into a smirk but he can’t feel his lips. “Always, General.”
“You’re hurt.”
Obi-Wan says it like it’s tenfold worse than his own injuries. Cody doesn’t have the heart to roll his eyes.
“It’s just a scratch.”
“Ah. Well, in that case I shan’t worry, shall I?”
“No.” The hand in his has none of Kenobi’s usual strength, but Cody hasn’t been able to feel his own fingertips in hours now, so he’ll overlook the weakness in Obi-Wan’s grip for now. He squeezes, though, as much he can, and after a horrible pause, Obi-Wan squeezes back. “You don’t ever have to worry about me, Obi-Wan.”
“I think I will anyway, if you don’t mind terribly.” Obi-Wan tries to shift and lets out a little weak sound. Cody pulls on his fingers in warning and the Jedi settles. “Apologies,” Obi-Wan gasps, strained. “I’m not--not at my best, or I’d--”
“Don’t.” In this moment Cody is not above begging. “Just rest. Just rest.”
“I’ve been stargazing.” The sentence is a non sequitur. Or is it? Cody is so tired. He might have lost time again; the fog is returning, licking at the edges of his vision. He takes a deep inhale, holds it until his ribs feel like they’re about to break through his skin, and lets it out. The fog recedes.
“What?”
“The stars,” Obi-Wan repeats, voice barely there. Cody’s not sure what liquid he feels seeping into his gloves as he grips at the Jedi’s hand, if it’s mud or blood or water. He holds on as tightly as he can. “The rain’s stopped--look at the stars.”
Rolling over isn’t any easier the second time around, but his general has asked it of him and Cody would do anything for his general. The sky, not clear of clouds, is at least done releasing a downpour. There’s a break in the clouds above them; moonlight slinks through it and tiny pinpricks of white stand out against the black. Obi-Wan’s grip had gotten stronger when he’d groaned as he shifted, and his fingers only relax marginally when Cody confirms he is watching the stars now too. The battle is ending, growing quieter. It is as if Cody is in a bubble of paradise right in the middle of hell: his Jedi holds him, the numbness gives way to warmth, and the stars watch over them both. A dreadful, joyful calm washes over him and Cody thinks--thinks--
If I have to die, Cody thinks, muzzily, I’d like to die like this.
He doesn’t die, of course.
Cody opens his eyes some time later without quite realizing he has closed them, and squints against the blazing white of Medical. His body is stiff, but numb no longer; every inch of him screams. Cody’s teeth grind down but he stifles the cry of pain before it can claw its way out of him. Turning his head makes his neck protest but it means he can see his brothers, at least half of the 212th, bundled into cots just like his. The blue of the 501st’s uniforms makes relief flood his stomach when Cody spies Kix leaning over Boil. Waxer, sitting up in bed across from him, gives him a little wave when Cody catches his eyes. His brother points over Cody’s head.
Cody turns, weary and flagging. On his other side, obviously not supposed to be upright, is the bandaged and battered form of Jedi High General Obi-Wan Kenobi. A few yards behind him there rests an empty cot, the blanket thrown hastily back. Obi-Wan’s face is bruised and swollen, and his foot is propped up at the end of Cody’s bed, bandages swathing the ankle. Kenobi is shirtless, his right shoulder, bicep, and pectoral heavily bandaged; scarlet droplets are seeping through the carefully applied linen already. Obi-Wan slumps in his seat, listing slightly to the side with his eyes closed.
His hand is wrapped firmly around Cody’s.
Cody sighs, settles, and breathes easy.