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The 212th is losing and Obi-wan cannot bear to watch.
He sends a com to his commander, offering three dozen medic droid units to help in removing the wounded from the battlefield and his own services as a fighter.
He promises, voice lowering in what he knows the trooper’s helmet will deliver as a whisper, in turning the tides if Cody lets him do so. To just say the words, and Obi-wan would bring him Grievous' severed head back on a pole.
Commander Cody doesn’t respond immediately, too busy shooting enemies off of his and his brother’s necks to be able to completely focus on the holo-call. He’s a sight to admire, precise in its execution and impossible to contain. And Obi-wan sighs as he watches him spin-kick a droid nearby without breaking a sweat, golden eyes staring unblinkingly at the commander as he fights his way through clankers and separatist soldiers, armor shining like a blade as he turns his own body into a weapon.
It's beautiful. He is beautiful.
It doesn’t matter whether he accepts his offer or not, Obi-wan is going down to help anyway, but he wants to hear him say it. There’s a charm in seeing this man, so composed even as he faces more enemies than is wise to protect his brothers. This man, that fights always with the goal of succeeding even if it breaks his body, to give in to Obi-wan's whims even if it’s for something that would favour him in the end.
Even now, with his helmet on, Obi-wan knows that the commander is clenching his teeth at the idea of accepting the sith's help. That this delay in his response is not only because of the current physical fight the commander is involved in but a mental one as well, against his own stubbornness.
The fondness that he feels while recognising all those little details about the commander is one Obi-wan has long since grown used to, and one he does not bother to hide when the commander looks down at Obi-wan’s holo-projection, allowing him precious seconds of his undivided attention.
“Alright,” the commander answers, almost resigned, and then repeats, more firmly, “ Alright , but don’t get in my men’s way, dar’jetii. ”
“Oh, dear, I wouldn’t dare to,” Obi-wan says, taking one last look at the commander and his scrapped armor, before reluctantly cutting the comm channel.
His mind is already making calculations as he descends to the lower floors of the permacrete building he has been staying in for the past weeks, estimating the amount of time he will need to get the droids on the battlefield and the strategic points where they would be needed the most, successfully aiding the commander’s men.
He has it mostly planned by the time he reaches the main living room, where he finds Anakin and Dooku, discussing the battle’s development in the holotable.
They barely raise an eyebrow when Obi-wan interrupts them to explain his plan, golden eyes just like his own following the path Obi-wan traces with his finger in the holomap, to where he is planning on sending the medical frigates with Anakin's latest designs of medic droids.
If they have any objections over Obi-wan breaking the neutrality stance they have been keeping until that point of the war, they do not voice it. Quite the opposite in fact, they seem to comply way too easily: Anakin looking excited as if he has been waiting for Obi-wan's permission this whole time, and Dooku scoffing as if he has been expecting it, as if he has somehow known about the feelings that Obi-wan has been cultivating about the clone commander since the past few months, clear to experienced eyes that don't even need the force to recognise them.
“I will join you,” Anakin declares, his smirk telling Obi-wan that there’s no way to keep him from flying to the battlefield. “Cannot let my droids get shot down before they get to achieve their work, right? And shooting some tanks wouldn’t hurt anybody."
“As long as the tanks you shoot are Grievous’ then I’m not complaining," the redhead remarks, squinting at his padawan. "The objective is winning without making it harder for the commander."
Anakin snickers.
Dooku clears his throat."The commander and his men, right, child?"
"Of course," Obi-wan responds, at the time Anakin fake-coughs, "Whipped."
Dooku’s expression does not change, but years of living together allow Obi-wan to recognise the mirth shining in his eyes, an emotion he doesn’t show to anyone but his grand-padawans.
"Alright then," he says, in a tone that expresses dismissal. "I better prepare for the holo we will get from the republic after this intervention."
It’s the closest thing they will get to a blessing from him, and Obi-wan and Anakin barely wait for their grandmaster to retire to his chambers before they head to the hangar.
______________
Apparently, Grievous has decided to eliminate the 212th battalion in its entirety.
Obi-wan watches as Anakin pilots the gunship over the battlefield, at the amount of separatist’s armament released to fight against the republic’s army, almost thrice the amount they had usually sent in every campaign they had fought on.
It seems a bit overboard, especially for Grievous, but it also says a lot about the clone trooper’s ability to still be able to keep some resemblance of battle formations despite the situation, trying their best to not give in more terrain than the amount they have already lost.
The force tugs at Obi-wan. For now, it whispers, and the redhead closes his eyes as he takes a deep breath, the last one before jumping right into the chaos below.
The height is not much and the force certainly helps in slowing his descent, but Obi-wan cannot help the smirk at the rush of adrenaline that seems to spark through his body, lighting it on fire as the wind hits his face and rustles his hair.
If he unclasps his cape, letting it get carried away by the wind as his feet touch the ground, then well, it sure adds to what was already a dramatic entrance.
The battle on the ground is messy but Obi-wan fits right into it, the force singing all around him as if he was born to fight it. His lightsaber cuts through separatists' forces in quick and efficient swings, creating a path for Obi-wan to advance quickly to one of the enemy's control posts. He slides right through it without much thought, and the droids controlled by it fall to the ground immediately, letting the troops of the 212th recover from the assault. Obi-wan does not look back, he is already moving to his next target. He intercepts blasters, breaks formations before they are truly shaped and aids the medic droids to do their work where the chaos of the battle is more intense.
He doesn’t need to close his eyes and concentrate to tell exactly where the commander is. The way he shines in the force makes him unmistakable in the sea of sunset orange tones that are the men of the 212th So Obi-wan heads his way once he is sure the tides of the battlefield's sections he leaves behind are in their favour, troopers moving swiftly to take his place and protect what they have gained.
Good, Obi-wan thinks at the same time the force whispers, Not yet. A reminder to not get too confident, to not drop his guard, and so Obi-wan releases those feelings into the force before focusing once more on his goal of protecting the commander, of defeating Grievous.
He finds Cody in the centre of the battlefield's commotion, where the amount of separatist forces surpasses in two-to-one the amount of clones, and Obi-wan is not surprised to see that Cody is exactly where his men need him the most, and where the chaos is at its peak.
Despite his constant complaints of Obi-wan being a trouble-magnet, Cody is not that much different from him. He does not seem aware of the sun that is his presence in the force, and that as one, people get pulled towards him, allies and enemies alike.
It’s not that he is force-sensitive, (and Obi-wan has tried to prove it, many times in the past that have all come with the same result: he is not ) but instead, a personality trait that works like a gravitational pull, inspiring people and propelling them to fight by his side despite the odds.
Obi-wan takes a second to gather his breath, to observe Cody fight his way through clankers, taking in all of the details of the trooper’s fighting style that no holo is able to capture.
There's a rightness in the way the commander moves, a fluidity between each move that screams of a natural aptness for fighting. It’s more than just his mandalorian nature, it’s so characteristically Cody, that it’s basically a new fighting style in its entirety. There's confidence but also awareness. There's steadiness but also unpredictability. Cody shoots at the closest clanker before punching the next one and it doesn’t feel out of place, it doesn’t shatter his rhythm at all.
The commander fights like a contradiction. And yet , Obi-wan thinks. There’s balance.
The force has stopped whispering to Obi-wan but it’s alright, because instead there’s this symphony that fills his ears as he joins his commander, as his lightsaber cuts through separatist forces at his back, easing the toll of enemies to fight against. A symphony that reaches a crescendo as they cross gazes, and time seems to stop enough for them to tighten their grips on their respective weapons and readjust them to fight next to each other, to protect the other.
"Commander," he warns, shoving him aside with the force as a tank shoots in their direction. A new wave of reinforcements of the separatists have arrived and Obi-wan does not hesitate in running towards them, jumping on top of one of the tanks and using his lightsaber to force it to stop.
From up there he can spot Grievous, entering the battlefield now that things seem to be getting rough to his side, and Obi-wan takes a second to memorize his position before he’s moving once again, to the next tank, and the one after.
He thinks he hears the commander shout at him but he does not recognise the words, he does not have the time to try to decipher them. If he kills Grievous now, the battle will be over. Leaderless, the separatists will fall, and the clone troopers’ lives will be spared. Victory will be for the republic.
Obi-wan let’s himself believe that it’s his name that the commander was shouting, and hangs onto that thought as the distance between him and the enemy reduces.
He has a promise to keep.
______________
For someone who has won that day’s battle, Cody doesn’t look happy at all.
Obi-wan stares at him from his place on the medic bed, admiring the way his handsome features were pulled tight in anger, the strong line of his jaw tense because of how hard the trooper must have been clenching his teeth to keep from lashing out at him.
He waits patiently until the commander's furious silence turns into something more manageable, until he can look at Obi-wan without scowling. Still, his frown stays and only seems to deepen whenever he looks at saber burns on the sith's clothes and the bandaged wounds that covered his limbs.
“I expected you to wear armor at least,” he says bitterly, reproachfully. It's a conversation they have had dozens of times and that they will probably keep having a dozen more. This time though, Cody seems unsatisfied in leaving it at that so he adds: “Since your kind are so against the jedi then why not try to wear something that isn’t robes and capes for once.”
Obi-wan laughs, taken by surprise, and he keeps laughing, even as his broken body makes them sound more like pitiful wheezes, even as Cody’s expression darkens when they turn promptly into a set of coughs.
He says, once his chest stops trembling, “Are you offering me yours, dear?”, and his voice may be rough but it hasn't yet lost its charm, and the commander rolls his eyes at his flirting before turning his attention elsewhere.
“Your comm is destroyed,” he informs him, putting the destroyed gadget out of one of the pockets he carried on his belt. He sets it on top of his bedside table, next to the bundle that was Obi-wan's cape, which someone had picked up in the aftermath of the battle. “Do you have any other way to communicate with Skywalker?” And then more exasperated, as Obi-wan avoids eye-contact, “A second comm? Not a fucking telephone number even?”
“Nope,” he replies, and kriff, the medicine must be kicking in because he can’t help the giggles that escape his lips after popping the last syllable. ''Don’t worry, dear. Anakin is coming, I can feel him in the force.”
It's not a lie even if he kind of wants it to be, if only to spend more time alone with the commander. Even now, half drugged as he is, there is no mistake in the supernova that is his padawan's presence in the force as he makes his way to the medbay, worry and pride carrying through their force bond after someone has probably briefed him about his master and Grievous' encounter.
The commander nods, lips pressing into a thin line, and Obi-wan can tell that there’s something else still bothering him, something he doesn't know how to voice or worse, doesn't dare to.
It's a battle all over again, as the commander overthinks until he can find a response to ease whatever is troubling him. Probably something related to loyalty and morals and how they apply to sith, to Obi-wan. How accepting his help, fighting along him and accepting him into the lightcruiser's medbay, is not treason against the republic nor the jedi order, who he serves.
His frown is back and there's frustration shining in his dark eyes and Obi-wan can tell that he is losing the battle, that he is failing in finding a middle ground between sides that do not make him less of a loyal soldier without compromising his own morals as a person.
And Obi-wan… he doesn't want to see it. So he intercedes, just like earlier, with what he thinks would force the commander to get out of his head. To distract him with what Obi-wan suspects is the cause of all of this, with what he wants to hear the most.
“Are you worried for me, commander?”
And it works, it works so wonderfully that Obi-wan congratulates himself when the commander turns to look at him so quickly that he is surprised he doesnt pull a neck muscle.
They stare at each other. Obi-wan weak and wounded from the bed and Cody attentive and hesitant by his side.
They are exhausted, drained in a way that they don't have enough energy left to raise their walls up.
They know that their emotions are visible in their expressions, as well as they know that this question (this conversation that they have been delaying for months now and that is soon to follow), requires honesty.
"Why did you come to help us?" The commander diverts and then, to Obi-wan's amused expression, "I'm not complaining, I just don't understand."
We are not even from the same side.
I follow the jedi.
Dooku is publicly against the republic.
He does not voice it, he doesn't need to. His eyes tell Obi-wan everything, and the sith reaches into the force, and it echoes,
We are not worth getting involved in the war for.
I am not.
The commander clenches his hands on fists on the bed's border, and repeats,
"Why?"
Honesty , Obi-wan reminds himself. He cannot ask that of his commander if he doesn't give it first. It's only fair.
But force, it’s scary.
"I'm afraid I've become quite attached to the 212th," he admits, eyes fixed on the white ceiling, smiling sadly at his own cowardice, "and to you"
"Attachment," Cody repeats, baffled at the answer, irritated with Obi-wan's actions, tired of the word. "It's always that with you kar'tigaan'ade ."
Star touched people. The mando'a term for force sensitive, which makes it sound pure, devoid of the dark nature of the sith. And it's endearing, so he doesn't correct him.
He will never correct him, Obi-wan decides, he likes that about him too much to do so. How he doesn't seem to look at him as anything other than Obi-wan. How he doesn't flinch when he focuses his attention on him, with golden eyes that shine unnaturally, that see too much .
Obi-wan doesn't normally allow himself to miss the jedi order but when Cody looks at him, the term sith weighs less heavy on his chest.
He lets the silence go on and moves his hand instead, reaching for Cody's to intertwine their fingers, finding no resistance while doing so.
It shouldn't have stolen his breath as it did, not when he is the one who reached first, but to be accepted when you are prepared for rejection, braced for disappointment, can break the strongest of barriers, canmake someone overcome their greatest fears.
“Cody,” he whispers, as the commander raises his hand to his forehead, sighing as the back of Obi-wan's hand makes contact against his skin, eyes tightly shut as if he was fighting against his own mind, against his duty.
“Cody,” he repeats, heart thumping loudly on his chest, wanting so badly that he is barely able to think. Yelling his name a dozen times more in the force, asking him to not think , to feel him instead. To let them have this. " Cody. "
He cannot help the shiver when Cody’s lips brush his fingers, then his palm, the uncovered skin of his wrist. He is not prepared to hear the broken tone in his voice.
“Obi-wan," Cody says, and it's a mix of a groan, a call and a plea. And Obi-wan cannot help it, he moves his hand to cup his cheek, the tip of his fingers touching the lower part of Cody's scar, and an undignified sound similar to a whine leaves his chest when Cody reclines on it, exhausted and vulnerable.
"What is this that we have between us?" Cody asks, truly and honestly asks, finally. "Why me, Obi-wan?"
And Obi-wan, the same one who they call the negotiator, who is galaxy-known for his diplomacy skills, cannot tell, cannot find the words to describe it. Or rather, he can, but they don't seem enough, they probably will never be enough to explain what they share.
In another life, Obi-wan could have been his general, if he had not left the order after they refused to accept Anakin, if Dooku had never reached for him to share their pain over losing Qui-gon. In that life, Obi-wan would have joined the war from the beginning, he would have been assigned a clone battalion, and Cody would have been his commander, as the Force wills it.
But in this one, what they have is not the frail and forbidden relationship of a general and his commander, but the frail and forbidden relationship of war rivals, of soldiers of opposite sides that seem to be pulled to each other despite the circumstances.
Cody may not be his commander but he is his , he has always known it, from that first time they met on that campaign on Ryloth, when the force sang in delight all around him as Obi-wan led the hungry beasts away from the troopers. When he witnessed up close and for the first time the loyalty that a man can have for his brothers, the conviction in his duty and the willingness to keep fighting for the ones that cannot fight for themselves.
He would tell him, Obi-wan promises himself, once his head stops feeling so heavy, once he can think clearly and find the words.
He would kiss him, once his body aches less and moving an arm takes less effort. He would kiss him on the lips, long and sweet, and then his cheeks, his forehead, his chin, and he would show Cody why him , why it will always be him.
That's later, after he recovers, but for now, "Because I love you," will have to suffice.