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Heart in his throat, Cody strides through the halls of the Courageous. It had been a long week, since the news had reached Cody about the FUBAR status of the mission his General had taken to investigate the missing colonists, and Cody has been running on less than eight hours of sleep, total, over eight cups of caff, and more stims than Cody believes could ever be healthy. He hadn’t managed to get a full night-cycle of rest since the moment he had stepped onto the bridge of the Negotiator after a hard campaign, bruised and battered, to learn that his General and his vod’ika were missing, that the infiltration mission they were running had gone sideways - General Skywalker and Commander Tano had been captured by the Zyggerian Queen, and Obi-Wan and Rex were gone.
The week that had followed had been a haze of determination and fury, and despite himself, Cody knows that he’s not the only one who was crawling up the walls, spitting mad, because Rex was one of theirs - he had been 212th, one of Cody’s lieutenants, before the founding of the 501st and he had been transferred to Skywalker’s command, he’s a brother.
And Obi-Wan Kenobi is their General.
He’s Cody’s General - and… and he’s more too. He’s late nights and spiced caff shared with secretive smiles; he’s gentle touches and a soothing voice - he’s everything that a Clone like Cody shouldn’t have. Cody is just one of millions, just one face among a sea of sameness, and yet it’s Cody who Obi-Wan chose, it’s Obi-Wan who had given Cody more choices than he had ever received in his life, willing to take everything at Cody’s speed, because while he may be an adult in body and mind, he’s still so, so young in the ways of life and love. Cody would do anything for his Jedi; anything to keep the man smiling as the expression becomes less and less sincere as the War goes on and the shadows in his eyes grow darker.
But he can’t.
He can’t protect his Jedi, despite the fact that he was made for it, because life isn’t like the simulations the Kaminii put them through during training. Sometimes when you’re hit, you don’t get back up.
And sometimes, you can’t protect what matters most, and the reality of War has crushed any illusions any of them could have to this one truth. But it wouldn’t stop any of them from trying - it won’t stop Cody from trying, even if it means the only thing he can do is just be there, and survive one day longer, if not for himself, then for his vod’e, and for his General, because his General thinks that the only thing he’s good for in life is suffering and pain, and Cody wants him to know that Obi-Wan Kenobi is light and life and laughter and everything good in Cody’s miserably short life.
But he still can’t protect him from everything, and that much is obvious by the sight Cody comes upon in one of the private rooms in the 104th’s medical bay, Pace hot on his heels; Butcher, the Wolfpack CMO, is cradling a bloody nose, looking ruffled and partially stunned, while a wild-eyed Rex stares him down, gaze vacant and position defensive, despite his ashen skin and the blood in his blond hair. Behind his little brother, seated on a cot and looking utterly mortified, hand curled around Rex’s shoulder like he’s attempting to pull him back, is General Kenobi. He’s ghostly pale, wearing torn Jedi robes, and with a karking collar around his neck - a collar that Rex also wears - electrical burns crawling up his exposed skin.
Upon the entrance of two new people, Rex wheels around, planting himself even more firmly in front of the shaking Jedi on the cot, and while he sees them, Cody can tell just from a glance that his little brother is battling mental demons. Over his shoulder, wide blue-gray eyes meet Cody’s brown, and with what must have been a Force-powered tug, Obi-Wan pulls Rex back against him, and the blond captain sags into the painfully bony arms that wrap around him.
Pace takes control immediately, “Butcher - out.” The Wolf looks annoyed, but allows the Ghost medic to shoo him out of the room to tend to the hoards of colonists that need his attention.
Now, with only brothers who know , Cody strides forward, drawn in by the quiet plea in his Jedi’s haunted eyes and his little brother’s limp form curling into the general’s embrace, half-on the cot. Little gods - two weeks as slaves , the two most important people in Cody’s life have only had each other to rely on, with only the faint flame of hope that someone would come for them eventually. They look small and defeated, and Cody can count every single one of his brother’s ribs through the ratty shirt he had managed to somehow hold onto, and Cody knows through experience that the tunics that his General wears hides the same thing.
Immediately, without much care to his armour beyond a small after-thought, Cody clambers onto the cot, gently gathering his brother and Jedi into his arms, and they slump against him. Cody can feel Rex shaking against his side, and Obi-Wan has shoved his face into the junction of the Commander’s neck, hot breath puffing against the skin of his jaw, and Cody can feel the fever rolling off of the both of them.
“Cody.” Obi-Wan sighs, voice soft and gentle, trying to comfort him despite the fact that it’s Obi-Wan who needs the attention, because his cyare is a stubborn fool who doesn’t know when to ask for comfort.
“K’uur, cyare.” Cody murmurs, kissing his Jedi’s forehead and running a gentle hand through Rex’s golden curls. “Ni olar. I’m here - you’re here. Gar morut'yc. You’re safe.”
Obi-Wan shivers, “K’atini.” He manages to choke out, and Rex snorts in dark amusement. Cody smiles bitterly, heartbreaking for his most important people, and all he can do is hold them tighter. He can’t protect them - not from the War, not from pain or torture or whatever hell they went through down there, and all he can do is be there for them, to help them heal.
“K'oyacyi.”