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The collar around the General’s neck is stained with blood.
Cody wants to say that he has no idea how they had gotten into this situation, but that would have been a lie. He remembers every moment that had led up to this in painful clarity; he remembers the way the General had faltered, his attention turning elsewhere as two dark clad figures made themselves known. Cody’s used to the way various enemies seem to always zero in on where his General is, but there had been something different this time. His Jedi had gone stiff, face paling, and his hands had tightened around his lightsaber almost without realizing it.
Fear.
His General was afraid.
Cody remembers the way his General had thrown himself at both dar’jetiise almost immediately. He had thrown himself into battle recklessly, having snapped a short, clipped order for none of his men to interfere. None of them had been happy about it, but it had been a direct order from their General, and Cody could hear the angry grumbling from his squad as they picked off the droids lingering in the area. Cody had been the one to disobey.
His General was down, and Cody had taken the shot. He’d never forget the way the red dar’jetii had turned to him, suddenly interested, and whatever the Zabrak said had his General visibly reacting. Cody knows that the moment the Sith had seen the gutted expression on General Kenobi’s face, Maul had made his decision.
“Drop your weapon, Clone.” The Zabrak had said, red saber getting perilously close to his General’s pale throat, and Cody had faltered. “Or Kenobi dies.”
Cody had done the math, he knew that he and the four brothers with him weren’t a threat to two dar’jetiise - not if they wanted General Kenobi to make it out of this alive. He had looked at his General, completely at the mercy of the two Zabraks, blue eyes wide with anger and fear - his lightsaber was missing, and the skin of his leg sizzled where Maul’s weapon had caught him.
They could kill him right in front of them.
So Cody dropped his weapons, despite his General’s attempts to order them to retreat, and his brothers had followed.
General Kenobi had survived, but Cody doesn’t know how long that little miracle would last.
“General.” Cody is aware that he’s begging, but he’s long past caring as more crimson blood bubbles up between his clenched fingers. The General is limp, head resting in Wooley’s lap and cushioned on the ARC’s kama while Cody leans over him, desperately trying to stem some of the blood that steadily continues to pool around them. Maul and Savage had barely touched them, and Cody’s well aware that it’s because his stupid, reckless di’kut of a jetii had continued to mock the two Sith, jeering at them to pull their attention back towards him whenever they had begun drifting towards the Clones. He takes their beatings silently, barely making a noise as his men strain against their own restraints, wanting nothing more than to throw themselves forward. It’s a different sort of torture, one none of them had been trained for - but then again, none of them were trained to deal with a General that tried to put their survival over his own whenever he has the chance.
He’s paying for it now. He’s dying, bleeding out in front of Cody’s eyes, and the usually stoic Commander can do nothing but beg.
“General,” Cody says again, and unfocused blue eyes blink groggily, drifting away from the ceiling and back to Cody’s desperate face. His brows furrow, worried for his Commander instead of himself, and Cody wants to shake him. He wants to scream at him, he wants to curse, because his stubborn di’kut of a jetii isn’t replaceable. He can’t keep throwing himself into danger. “General - Obi-Wan, stay awake.” Dark red lashes flutter against bloodless cheeks, and his General stares at him, almost shocked by the sound of his name coming from Cody’s lips.
His General is beaten and bruised, blood flecked on torn, chapped lips. His copper hair is caked with the stuff, clumping the normally soft strands together. His blood clings to Cody’s skin, and is splattered across the white and orange plastoid his General had so lovingly helped him repaint not so long ago.
He’s dying. Cody knows this without needing to see the bubbles of blood wheezing past his blue lips.
He tries not to think of the terrible sight of his General being split open by Maul’s robotic foot, and left on the ground to bleed out slowly and painfully. Cody’s hands shake as he presses them harder against the gaping wound in his jetii’s abdomen, and General Kenobi winces. The Clone Commander can’t bring himself to care, because if it hurts, it means his Jedi is still alive.
Cody doesn’t think he’d survive losing his General again.
Obi-Wan’s lips part, as if he’s trying to speak, but all he releases is a wet gargle as explosions rock the cell they’re in. His Jedi wheezes, eyes rolling back, and Cody wants to scream. His fingers dig in, blood spreading across his knees, and -
Cody jolts awake with a barely audible gasp, sweat making his sleep clothes cling to his overheated skin. Chest heaving, Cody forces himself to lie still, to catch his breath and slow the fine tremors that shake his limbs.
He’s on the Negotiator, in his quarters and on his uncomfortable bunk.
He can feel the phantom wetness of blood on his palms and under his nails, and Cody carefully lifts his hands to the dim lighting of his small room. He goes ashen. For a moment, Cody can still see the red staining his hands, but he blinks and it’s gone, and Cody lets out a slow, shaking breath, letting his heartbeat calm.
He’s on the Negotiator.
His General is safe. Pace put him in bacta the moment the 212th and 501st had pulled them out of that haran . Cody had seen him only an hour ago, suspended in the blue liquid, expression peaceful, and Cody had sat there beside his tank and taken care of their paperwork, tricking himself into believing that it was just any other night - that they were working their way through their piles of reports together. His Jedi is recovering, he’s healing, and the dar’jetiise are gone.
Cody sighs, dropping his arm across his eyes, closing them as he slows his breathing, centering himself. He focuses on the rise and fall of his chest, on the slight cramp in his spine from his muscles clenching up so tightly in his sleep. He listens to the hum of the hyperdrive, feels the slightest vibrations of the ship moving around him and hears the hissing of the oxygen vents.
He’s home, his brothers came back in one piece, and his Jedi is on the mend. In a galaxy where his brothers are dying in the thousands, and the Jedi are dropping like flies, it feels like a miracle.
The war is far from over, but for a moment, Cody lets himself feel at peace.