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When Cody saw Obi-Wan for the first time since his death, his throat closed up. He had been briefed on the situation before the General’s arrival—he knew Obi-Wan’s “death” had been orchestrated by the Jedi Council, that the Chancellor had specifically requested the copper-haired General for the job, that Obi-Wan himself had little say in the matter.
Cody had learned all of this only a few hours ago, and he had spent those subsequent few hours pacing, thinking of exactly what he would say when he saw his General. He, being a clone, knows better than more people that duty must come before all other things: friends, family, even life itself.
However, none of that knowledge did anything to stave away the hurt that clawed viciously at his heart when he saw the General approach. Kenobi’s bright blue eyes met his—his stupid General had the audacity to smile, sheepish and gentle as if they were merely meeting up for lunch or tea, and not as if they were seeing each other for the first time since Kenobi’s death.
The Jedi were good people. In the early days on Kamino, before the tinders of war sparked and caught flame, the impression was that the Jedi were all hard and unfeeling, detached above all else and too distant to be reach. In the minds of the clones (based only on the sterile doctrines and teachings of the Kaminoans—none of them had ever met a Jedi before) the Jedi were beings of absolute authority, rigid and cold.
Cody had grown up believing that he and his brothers would spend the rest of their lives forever crushed under superiors who were inflexible and cruel, as the Kaminoans has been; that he and his brothers would live and die nameless; that they would forever be forced to hide their chosen names from the prying ears of anyone who wasn’t vode for fear that their individuality would be punished and stripped from him.
But Cody had been wrong.
Kenobi was kind.
All of the Jedi were kind. Their philosophy was grounded in the believe that all life was sacred, that all living things were deserving of mercy, of compassion, of love, of respect. They were detached, yes—but Cody had eventually come to learn that attachment and love were not synonymous.
Attachment was selfish, possessive, codependent, and utterly inflexible. Attachment was rooted in the fear of loss and the desire to protect oneself from the pain of grief.
Love was unconditional. It was selfless. It was sacrifice. It was rooted in the joy that comes from watching others flourish, even at the cost of personal pain.
Obi-Wan Kenobi loved with his whole heart. He gave and gave and gave, and when his bucket was empty, he gave that away too. So, when Jedi Council and the Chancellor himself asked Obi-Wan to die, to damage every single one of his relationships irrevocable, all for the sake of protecting the Republic...
Of course he said ‘yes’. How could he not?
Because it was never about Cody. It was never about the 212th, or Anakin Skywalker, or Ahsoka Tano. It was always about Obi-Wan and his personal conviction, his willingness to lose everything, to be alone, to be hated.
Perhaps that was why it hurt so badly, because Cody had never been a part of the equation. Because Cody was not his General’s priority. Because Cody could never his General’s priority.
So what if Cody had grieved? What was one man’s grief compared to the lives and futures of billions and billions and billions of people across the galaxy?
Obi-Wan smiled and he looked so strange without his hair or his beard. Cody couldn’t bring himself to smile back. There was an empty, yawning chasm in the place where his heart used to be.
“Cody, it’s good to see you,” Kenobi said with such genuine intent that Cody could practically see the light and the joy radiating off of him.
Obi-Wan was so happy to see his commander again.
The feeling was not mutual. Cody’s hands curled into fists at his side. “Sir.” he said, his voice tight and clipped. He watched, with cruel satisfaction as Obi-Wan’s face crumbled and fell away like the splintered shards of a shattered mirror.
He didn’t look disappointed (to be disappointed there must first be hope for a better outcome) he just looked tired and resigned. Yes, he knew this going to happen. This was what he had signed up for, this was the cost of saving the Chancellor.
When Cody had first heard the news that General Kenobi was dead, his knees nearly gave out on the spot. Kenobi was the best of the best. Kenobi was invincible. Nothing could kill Obi-Wan Kenobi.
When General Kenobi died, Cody walked listlessly across the bridge, hyper aware that something important was lost and would never be found. He felt like a man who had lost a finger—It wasn’t life-altering. His world wasn’t shattered. Nothing was different, nothing had changed. But every time he reached out, every time he picked something up, every time his fingers curled, he was acutely reminded of his loss, and grieved all the more for it.
There were times when he would go to file a report only to discover that Obi-Wan Kenobi was no longer listed as an optional recipient. At other times, he would prepare two cups of tea, only to remember that he hatedtea and, with Obi-Wan gone, there was no reason to drink it anymore. Many times he caught himself patting his belt to check for an absent lightsaber that would no longer need to be returned to its owner, ever again.
Cody had never been attached to his General. Generals were generals, Cody could work with anybody. It didn’t matter where the war took them. He was confident that whoever his next general was, they would kind, they would call him by name, they do their best to protect his brothers.
But they would never be Obi-Wan Kenobi.
Cody had loved his General. Obi-Wan would sit in the mess and swap stories with the troops. He knew every man by name, and every story behind those names. He didn’t reprimand or write up the shinies if they froze up during their first battles. He knew whose batchmates were who, and at night he sat beside those who had lost brothers and offered them his support. He looked at Cody the way he looked at everybody else—like a person, like somebody who was worth something, like somebody who deserved to be loved unconditionally.
Obi-Wan Kenobi had been Cody’s best friend. They knew everything about each other.
Cody knew that Obi-Wan had a fondness for chocolate and anything salty (he liked his food saltier than most people could stomach, and Helix sometimes complained about his sodium intake.) He knew that Obi-Wan was an incurable flirt who would happily sleep with anybody who was willing, and that he was more fond of alcohol that he was willing to admit. He knew Obi-Wan’s leadership skills came from his experience as a child soldier on Melida/Daan; that he blamed himself for Qui-Gon’s death; that he had nightmares about being alone; that he worried about Anakin and Ahsoka constantly. He knew that mannequins and dolls made Obi-Wan incredibly uncomfortable (though he wouldn’t call it a fear per say); that he was severely allergic to hoi broth; that the word ‘moist’ was fine but words ‘slurp’, ‘lugubrious’, and ‘silly’ were absolutely revolting; that the texture of cotton balls made him physically cringe; that his favorite color was green (and he was initially very disappointed that his lightsaber was blue) and that fathiers were his favorite animal.
Likewise, Obi-Wan knew everything there was to know about Cody. He knew Cody preferred caf over tea and that he really, really liked sugar and greasy fast foods and carbonated sodas. He knew Cody preferred weightlifting to cardio; that he couldn’t quite touch his toes but hoped someday to be able to do the splits; he knew that silence unnerved him, and that he was utterly terrified of the Correlian barn goose that nested outside of the Jedi Temple. Cody told Obi-Wan his nightmares; they talked about what it was like to grow up on Kamino, oppressed under the threat of reconditioning; they talked about the future and what they would do after the war; they gossiped together about Anakin’s marriage to Padmé, about Bly’s relationship with Aayla, about that one time that Fox slept with Quinlan Vos.
Obi-Wan was the only man Cody had ever loved. And he had died.
“Cody... I’m so sorry,” Obi-Wan said softly, his blue eyes downcast. “If you are upset with me, I understand. I know I have... probably hurt you,” At the very least, he had the dignity to meet Cody’s eyes.
Obi-Wan has been Cody’s best friend. Cody had loved him. Cody had grieved for him. And here he was, as if apologies would fix anything.
Cody found himself storming towards his General, every muscle in his body tense to point of snapping. He raised his arms, poised to swing, ready to strike his General for causing him such pain, court martial be damned.
But the blow never came.
Because as the distance between the General and his commander closed, the anger in Cody’s chest burned out like a match. His charge turned into a sprint and instead of hitting, he flung his arms around Obi-Wan and held him tight.
“It’s so good to see you, sir,” he whispered.
Cody is not unfamiliar with death, he has outlived many of his brothers and will likely outlive many more before the war ends. He has spent nights wide awake, his heart aching, pleading with any god willing to listen to brings his brothers back.
When his brothers go marching away, they don’t come back, not ever.
Obi-Wan came back.
“Cody?” Obi-Wan whispered, faint and incredulous and almost completely inaudible.
Cody knew what his General was asking. He did not return home expecting to be forgiven.
“Life is too short to be angry.” Would be the easiest answer, but that want true. Not at all. Because life isn’t all that short for those still living, and Cody knew this well after watching countless brothers—his General—march away and never return.
“Because life is long and time is cruel, boss,” Cody said instead, his voice catching in his throat at the thought of passing decades, of a galaxy that would continue to turn even without Obi-Wan. “Sir, I don’t know what’s going to happen tomorrow, or the next day, or the day after that. But I don’t want to spend the rest of my life regretting that I didn’t tell somebody I loved them because I was too busy being angry,”
Obi-Wan returned the hug, his arms tightening around his commander. “Thank you...” he whispered, breathless.
“I love you,” Cody said. “I’m so happy you’re home,”
But Obi-Wan doesn’t respond to this. He merely catches Cody’s lips and the world around them falls away, unimportant.