Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

"Death is just the beginning" - Season 6, episode 12

The hut looked larger when he was sprawled out on the floor. Of course, it was all a matter of perspective and the tiny shelter that somehow classed as a hut was certainly no bigger than the last time he checked. But the ceiling looked higher and the walls further apart when he was laying down. However, despite its impermanence the appearance of his accommodation did little to distract from the sweltering heat or stinging sand that scratched at him from beneath his head.

Or from Anakin.

Oh force, Anakin. The temple. The younglings. The Sith.

Mustafar.

He could still see it. The molten lava, the stench of smoke and burnt flesh, the flashes of lightsabers, clashing against each other. The horrid tint of yellow that lined his eyes.

He tried to forget, to block the memories, but always they persisted. In his dreams, in meditation, in the most random of moments when everything seemed fine, he would hear those damning words.

I HATE YOU!

His padawan, his brother, Anakin-

No.

Anakin was dead. It wasn’t – it wasn’t him who had done this. It was Vader. All of it was Vader.

That was who came to him in his nightmares, clad in black with a saber as red as blood. It was him who he saw strangling Padme and striking down younglings. Him who had fought Obi-wan on that hellish planet. Him wo had betrayed them to the Sith.

For all his shortcomings, Obi-wan was exceptionally good at lying to himself.

The sand burned under his head from where he lay, sprawled on the floor of his hut in the middle of nowhere.

How pathetic. The great general Kenobi, jedi master, one of the youngest members on the council. What was he now? Reduced to a rat in the desert, gorging himself on Jawwa juice because it was easier to swallow than guilt.

The ceiling span in circles, and colorful spots painted their way across his field of vision. Reds and purples danced on the ceiling, mixing with the cracks that bloomed over the roof like spiderwebs. Perhaps he would die, he thought idly. It would only be fitting after all. Ending things where they began, though he had never thought he might die on Tatooine of all places. He had thought he would die on Bandomeer, with a slave collar around his neck, and then on Melida/daan, fighting alongside children who were no more than younglings, and then in the war, in a thousand battles that all blended into one another. But no. It seemed Tatooine would be his grave.

 Just Another failure to add to his collection.

 First, he failed Qui-Gon, then Anakin, then Cody, and now he was failing the twins. Luke and Leia. Two stars burning fiercely in the force, like supernovas (like Anakin). It was forbidden, it was against the code, but he had gone and gotten attached. How could he not? He was the first to hold them. Padme was – she was too weak by then. The droid had given them straight to Obi-wan. But Sidious would find them eventually. There was no way he would be able to hide such strong force presences for long. And then he could grieve over two more children and wallow a little longer in his infinite sadness.

It was pitiful.

It was useless.

It did nobody any good, he should get up, drag himself from the floor and get to work. But it was so much easier just to lie there. He would come back to himself soon, he reasoned. Just a little longer.

Cody would have gotten up, he thought. His commander had always been ready, taking the initiative, getting the job done. Obi-wan didn’t know how he would have coped without him. He was a good man, loyal.

Until he shot you in the back.

And wasn’t that just the icing on the cake? His own men had turned against him. The men he had spent years fighting alongside. He had fought and bled and grieved with them, he had come to know them as his comrades, his friends. Why would they-? that was one of the thoughts that kept him up into the small hours of night. How had he managed to fail his men so spectacularly that they had resorted to killing him? What had he done to make them hate him so?

But he didn’t need an answer to that question. Not really.

The clones had been slaves to the republic, classed as property instead of sentients. They had been mistreated by the Kaminoans, and then the Nat-born officers and then the republic citizens. Hell, some had even been hurt by their Jedi generals. (Jedi did not hate as a rule but Pong Krell was an exception). And what had Obi-wan done to change that?

Kriff-all that’s what.

He had been too busy fighting a pointless war to involve himself in such politics. He was too blind to see beyond the campaigns and missions that the Sith had so thoughtfully laid out for him. I bet your laughing now Palpatine.

It was ironic really, that Obi-wan had always despised the man. His dislike of politicians was public knowledge and his distaste for the chancellor even more so. He wanted to scream ‘I was right! I was right all along, and no one listened!’ but there was no one left alive for him to tell. Even if there was, it wouldn’t matter. Nothing seemed to matter anymore.

His vision blurred and he had just enough rational thought left to realize that he was probably passing out. He smiled. At least unconsciousness came with the benefit of peace. Not even his thoughts could bother him then.

And then he heard it.

A soft buzz that seemed to emanate from all around him. It pulsed in his ears once, twice. Distantly he worried that it was the sand people, come to steal his water and butcher him. But the noise was familiar in its essence.

Where the force had previously been quiet in gentle despair, it was now humming in – comfort? Consolation? It was hard to tell in his alcohol riddled state, but it was soothing. The noise was deep and quiet, almost like the engine of a spaceship, the ones Anakin used to spend hours fixing whilst covered in oil stains. He would look up from them, grinning crookedly at Obi-wan.

Yellow eyes glared from the lava banks, IHATEYOU!

SafeQuietHushPeace

the force whispered, and Obi-wan listened. During his exile he had become better at listening to the forces will. After all, it was the only friend he had left. It was a bitter comfort though. Every time he had reached for it, he had felt it slip through its fingers like he was trying to grasp smoke. Until now. He let it lull him into unconsciousness, feeling the familiar pull of darkness.

FixItFixItFixItFixIt

The force hummed again, the buzz echoing around him in his vertigo. Fix what? He wondered briefly as he went under. Perhaps it meant the cracks in the roof.

Chapter Text

"A single chance is a galaxy of hope." - season 1, episode 18

When Obi-wan awoke he was most certainly not in the same room as the one he had passed out in the night before. For one thing, it was much larger than he remembered his hut ever being, even when he was lying like a starfish on its floor. For another thing, he was cold. And Tatooine was never cold. That was – slightly concerning. So much so that he had to take a few minutes to really look at his surroundings before he ruled off ‘captured by the empire’ from the list of possible explanations for his sudden change in location. It was immediately put back on the list when a figure clad in white armor strode through the doors.

“General Kenobi sir, you’re needed in the command room.”

Every hair on his body stood on end, every hackle raised. Panic flooded his system and he was dimly aware of his heart pounding in his ears.

And then the figure turned and walked back out of the room.

What in the name of the force–?

It took an entire minute of gaping like a particularly dumbstruck fish for Obi-wan’s brain to process what had just happened. Because the person who had just left the room was no stormtrooper, they were dressed in clone armor. Clone armor painted in stripes of 212^th gold. Clone armor that mirrored that of his commanders’. Clone armor that had supposedly been destroyed when Cody had – when the emperor had taken over.

Pain built in his chest, and it took him a while to realize that it was because he wasn’t breathing. He wasn’t – he couldn’t. His lungs were aching, he needed to get himself together, but a thousand thoughts were flying through his head. What if this was some Sith trick? Some dream that Sidious had trapped him in. Maybe it was a torture method, a way of getting him to talk. Or maybe he was still passed out on the floor of his hut, and this was all a hallucination. He tried to breathe in, to take a deep breath but his jaw was locked shut and he couldn’t get his mind to respond.

He was dead.

That must be it. He had overdosed on jawwa juice on Tatooine and now he was one with the force, six feet under, sleeping with the fishes. It was almost funny, he had fought for so long, survived so much. He had defeated Maul, and Ventress, and Grievous only to be brought down by a bottle of particularly strong alcohol. Sidious would be beside himself.

He stared down at his hands. The skin was smooth. There were no wrinkles, no raised and broken veins that bloomed like spider webs, and no tan from the relentless binary suns. How strange.

He pinched his arm. Funny, he had thought death would be different, that perhaps one wouldn’t feel pain the way they did in life. If he was honest, Obi-wan hadn’t believed there was anything after death except the force.

Tentatively, he reached out with the force, letting it wash over him in a calming wave. The tears that pricked at his eyes were unexpected, but not entirely surprising. There was so much life. All around him. He had been so alone in the desert, so isolated, but here? Wherever here was? There was life. So very much of it. He could feel Cody’s force signature making his way down the hall, as steadfast and solemn as ever. He could hear the quiet thrum of tension-excitement-determination from the people outside. And there in the distance, burning so brightly it hurt to look at, was the unmistakable force presence of his padawan.

Their bond was still there, in the back of Obi-wan’s head, the way it was before everything had gone to hell. It was strong and vibrant, no longer the fraying twisted thing that it had become, poisoned by hatred, obsession, and pain. He poked curiously at Anakin’s shields. if he was dead, did that mean everyone here was dead too? The wave of questioning concern that washed through the bond certainly felt alive. Come to think of it, was he actually certain he was dead? That this wasn’t a hallucination or – or some Sith mind trick?

Getting up from the bed, he exited the safety of his quarters. It was only then that he truly realized the gravity of his situation.

Turquoise towers that had been carved from crystal stretched up to the sky, decorated in geometric windows that allowed the light to shine into the buildings. Rubble lined the streets and clones rushed past him, moving to and from positions, setting up weapons, and performing maintenance on the crumbling buildings around him. The sky was hidden by a thick coat of grey clouds that kept the planet in a perpetual state of gloom. It would seem Obi-wan’s conscious would remember this planet even in the afterlife.

Christophsis. He was on Christophsis.

He wanted to laugh. Was this some sort of cosmic joke the force was playing on him? Perhaps it was a game; ‘relive all your worst mistakes after you die and see how long it takes you to go insane’. He wondered which one would be next, Qui-Gon? Satine? Maybe this was his punishment, for failing everyone he loved. It was only fair that he should suffer for all he put them through, all he failed to protect them from. If this was what the force wanted of him, then who was Obi-wan to refuse?

The walk to the command center was torturously slow. All around him the ghosts went about their daily lives. A young trooper walked past with a tattoo of a snake curling past his ear, (Obi-wan had held his hand as he bled out beneath a crashed ship). A Captain drilled his men, ensuring they hit their target each time, (no one could have survived a fall from that height). A voice called out to him, and as he turned to look, Obi-wan was met with the wide grin of one Anakin Skywalker.

“Hey master! You headed to command? I hear they’ve got news for us.”

He couldn’t do this. Not now, not ever. Anakin looked so painfully young, his hair a good deal shorter than the last Obi-wan had seen it, his voice still had that high pithed quality to it that had vanished in time, and his eyes were so much brighter, so full of mirth. (They were blue not yellow; they were blue they were blue theywereblue).

“Anakin,” he said, his voice sounding choked off and weak. The teasing glint in Anakin’s eye slid away and was immediately replaced with concern. How very Anakin, always thinking of others, his heart so big and compassionate. So easily attached. Obi-wan forced down the image of Padme’s sightless eyes.

“Hey master, are you ok? You don’t look so good,” his padawans voice was tinged with worry and Obi-wan forced a smile onto his face.

“I’m fine Anakin, just tired. I do believe we have a command meeting to get too.”

“Whatever you say master, just remember you need to get some beauty sleep as well as do paperwork,” Anakin teased, and it was so painfully familiar, the back and forth, the snark and sarcasm.

“I’ll keep it in mind.”

Anakin shot a blinding grin his way, all traces of worry wiped clean and replaced with the cool confidence that his padawan so often used to hide his uncertainty.

I HATE YOU!

He didn’t hide his shudder well enough, and Anakin glanced over at him, worry creasing his brow.

This was fine. Everything was fine. He was dead after all; it wasn’t like anything could hurt him now. (He knows that is wishful thinking, but he had always prided himself on being optimistic, if cynical). He just had to get through the day, maybe. Obi-wan wasn’t entirely certain how this whole thing was supposed to work. Would he live through each day like a second life? Or would the force throw him randomly through each of his greatest embarrassments and regrets.

He supposed there was only one way to find out.

Something weird was going on with Cody’s general. Something Weirder than usual.

Of course, he had heard all about the usual force-osik that tended to happen around jedi. His brothers were terrible gossips, and it was hard to ignore the tales they told of the Jedi’s abilities. Making things float, controlling people’s minds, being able to feel each other’s emotions, Alpha-17 had even filled him in on General Kenobi’s particular brand of crazy, along with a few dozen warnings about the man’s self-sacrificing tendencies.

But this was – different.

Cody had only spent a few months with his general, but from what he could tell, Kenobi was genuine if professional. He was kind and compassionate when it mattered, Sarcastic and witty when he had room to be, but determined and unflinching when it really came down to it. The man was almost as much of a workaholic as Cody. More than once, He had seen him bent over paperwork in the late hours of the night, hair all tousled and looking far more disheveled than he probably wanted too, though still serene in an effortless way that was too attractive for his own good.

What? Cody has eyes, sue him. He’s only human.

(Technically he’s not human. He’s not even classed as sentient. He is republic property).

The point being, Cody was sure he had a pretty accurate read on Kenobi. Of course, it was harder to tell with Jedi, but Cody had learned to get good at reading people, it was survival after all.

And it was for this reason that Cody was unsettled by Kenobi’s appearance as he entered the command center. His skin was pale and chalklike, highlighted by the dark circles beneath his eyes that looked as though they had been punched on. His eyes were wild, glancing around the room, scanning for exits, marking each weapon. Small tremors wracked the General’s body, so small that Cody would have missed them if he had not been looking. Cody had seen it before on Vod who had been on the front for too long. Battle fatigue was no stranger to him, but the general had never shown any previous signs. How could his health have deteriorated so much? But more concerning than any of these inconsequential points, was his behavior.

It was the way he leaned away from general Skywalker, not obviously, just a slight shift here or small jerk there. It was the way he flinched whenever someone walked by him, his eyes cataloging each weapon they were carrying. It was the way he looked at Cody like he was seeing a ghost, like he kept looking for someone that wasn’t there, catching Cody’s eye only to realize he wasn’t the person he was looking for. It was how he spoke to Skywalker, refusing to look him in the eyes, instead focusing just left of his head.

As far as Cody knew, the general adored Skywalker. He didn’t know much about Jedi and family, only that attachments were supposedly forbidden, but he would bet all his credits that Kenobi and Skywalker were Aliit.

(Cody didn’t have any credits anyway, he wasn’t paid).

So why was the General acting so – so fearful of him? Like any second Skywalker would snap and tear his head off. (Cody doesn’t think about how similar Kenobi’s behavior is to the way shiny’s interact with the longnecks. He doesn’t he doesn’t hedoesn’t-)

“If we put men in the north and south towers, we can ambush the droids and win a victory here, securing our position and allowing those supplies to reach Senator Organa, Cody?”

His gaze snapped to the Generals. That was another new development, addressing Cody by his name instead of as his rank. Usually he was just ‘commander’, but Kenobi had been using his name more and more often. A few minutes prior he had addressed a shiny by their name and Cody had never seen anyone look so surprised. Maybe it was a jedi thing, knowing their names without needing to have been told them. Though that seemed a stretch, even for the Jedi.

“The plan is sound General.” He said, unsure of how he was supposed to respond. On Kamino it had almost been easier. At least there he had known what was expected of him. He was to keep his head down and train and train until he dropped. Now, there was a new set of rules. It was almost like Kenobi wanted him to question his orders, and Cody didn’t know what to do with that information. But the general simply gave him a tight-lipped smile, so Cody figured he had answered acceptably.

Later, as they were all leaving the general called him and a select few for a meeting.

Himself, Rex, Crys, Chopper, Charger, Denal, and General Skywalker were all assembled.

“I Have reason to believe,” the general began, “That we have a security breach”.

Murmurs broke out around him as everyone turned to look at each other, all thinking the same thing. Who is the spy?

“I don’t know who, I don’t know how, but I do believe they are aware of our plans for tomorrows ambush, which is why you are here. All of you are good men, and I trust you to understand the gravity of this situation and be aware of the confidentiality needed.”

Cody found himself nodding along with his brothers.

“Tomorrow’s attack will go ahead as planned, with a few moderations. Captain rex, I Want you to take Denal and go to the towers in the east and west, line them with detonators so that we can bring them down in the center square, both as an attack and as a line of defense. Cody, I would like you to distribute grappling hooks amongst the men involved in the ambush, I believe we may be needing them. The rest of you should be on the lookout for anything unusual, unfamiliar signals, interference, suspicious behavior, anything that will give us a clue as to who is behind this breach. Any questions?”

“no sir” the he chorused with the rest of the men.

“Very well, there is one more thing I must ask of you. If you find our security breach, I want you to report it to me, and nothing more. Do Not take action.”

“Sir?” Cody questioned, if they had a breach, they should rectify it. Kenobi merely smiled tiredly at him, a hint of mischief in his eyes.

“If we know where or who our leak is, they could be of use to us. It may be possible to feed them false information and gain an advantage. Surely, they will catch on eventually, but it may just give us the edge we need. After you leave here, I would like you to complain about how you are being assigned a position watching over the cannons. Can you do that?”

“Sir yes sir!”

“Good. That is all for now, may the force be with you.”

It wasn’t until much later that Cody realized Kenobi had never met Charger before. He was a shiny who had just been brought to the front, and yet the General had known his name, had trusted him with crucial information.

Force-Osik indeed.

Chapter Text

"The wise man leads, the strong man follows" - Season 4, episode 9

On the morning of the attack, Anakin rose bright and early as was usual for a war zone. Although, even when in a war zone he was not safe from his sleep-deprived-zombie-morning-mode where his brain was barely able to process his own thoughts, never mind anyone else’s. Obi-wan had always lectured him about it, being ‘mindful of one’s thoughts’ and all that. Not that Anakin had really listened, but he was certain that obi-wan had said the speech so often he could recite it from memory. As it turned out his master was right - as per usual - and in his barely awake state, Anakin managed to stumble right into an oncoming clone.

“Easy there sir,” the clone said and Anakin had just enough awareness and sense in him to mumble an apology.

“Shift change?” He asked, his voice sounding croaky and weak. Honestly Anakin was too tried to care. He had never been a morning person.

“Um, yes sir.” The clone said, before moving on.

Anakin continued on, moving like a zombie on stilts. Honestly, it wasn’t his fault. He blamed obi-wan for letting him sleep in so often as a padawan. Speaking of his master-

He was acting strange. Or at least he had been yesterday. Anakin had almost dragged him back to his quarters and insisted he lay down; he had looked as though he was about to faint. It was probably just a fever or something dumb. Obi-wan had been pretty stressed lately, maybe that was it? He would make sure to check in with him today.

“Morning sir,” Rex called when he came in to view and Anakin couldn’t help the smile that came to his face. Rex was a good man, a little bit of a stickler to the rules but he could fix that in no time.

“Yeah Rex, sure is. Hey what time is it?” he could never be sure on new planets. His knowledge of time conversions for Republic worlds was – lacking. Never mind outer rim and separatist space.

“It’s 0600 sir, we still have a few hours till the attack.”

Anakin nodded but something niggled in the back of his head. Something he couldn’t place. It wasn’t to do with the attack, definitely not. Perhaps it had something to do with Obi-wan? His still half-asleep brain was struggling to keep up with the thought process and he let the though go, resolving to think about it when the world was actually making sense. Which to be fair, was not that often. It was in these moments that he missed Padme most. She would have remembered. She was so smart, so wonderful. He bet she would know what was wrong with Obi-wan too. Her way with people was much more – refined than his. Her competence was outmatched only by her beauty. He still wondered how she could love him. How a former queen of Naboo, esteemed senator had fallen in love with the ex-slave from Tatooine. It didn’t make sense.

But she loved him, and he loved her and that was all that mattered.

He felt similarly about his relationship with the chancellor. He couldn’t believe at first than someone so powerful would want Anakin as a friend. But Palpatine had been nothing but kind, offering him advice and an open ear. It was nice to have someone to speak to, there were somethings he just couldn’t tell Obi-wan.

(I slaughtered them like animals.)

“Anakin!” a familiar voice called, and he turned to look at his master.

He looked – better than yesterday, but that wasn’t saying much. He wasn’t quite so pale, but his eyes still looked sunken in and the stress lines around the sockets were all too visible. At least he wasn’t shaking anymore.

“Hey master, you ready for today?”

“I can hardly contain myself.” Came the dry response. That was good. If obi-wan was well enough to make sarcastic comments, then he would be fine. Probably.

Actually, now that he was thinking about it, Anakin wasn’t sure if it was even possible for Obi-wan to stop making witty remarks. Maybe his system for judging his master’s health was flawed.

“Well, I’m excited. Nothing like taking out a few seppies to get the blood pumping in the morning!” Obi-wans lip twitched, but he didn’t say anything back. That was Ok. The wave of fond exasperation the filtered through the bond was enough.

That was another thing. Obi-wan had been shielding himself more from the bond since yesterday. It wasn’t like he was cutting himself off completely, he still sent waves of emotion and the occasional poke at Anakin’s shields. But his emotions were more guarded than they had been. It was as if he was trying to hold them tight, keep them from escaping. Again, it was probably just stress. He would be better in a few days and then everything would go back to normal.

“Sir!” Anakin turned to find Cody making his way towards them. Cody was – ok he guessed. Far too proper for Anakin, a little bit of a stick in the mud. Perfectly suited to Obi-wan though. The two had the same devotion the ‘rules’ that Anakin had never quite grasped.

“Cody! Shift changes?” Obi-wan asked in that way of his, too coy to be sarcastic but not flirtatious either.

“No sir. Not for another few hours. We received a transmission from the temple, we are to expect an arrival within the next few days.”

“Reinforcements?”

“Unclear, sir. Our lines are unstable. We can’t get a clear connection.”

Sure, why would they have a clear connection? It’s not like they were in a war or anything, or y’know, in a dangerous situation where clear communication may mean their survival.

“I see, update me when there’s more news.”

“Will do, sir.” Cody said before turning and walking back the way he had come. Obi-wans eyes lingered on him before he turned back to Anakin and quirked his brow.

“Never a dull moment around here.”

Wasn’t that the truth. Anakin had never felt so busy in his life. It seemed life at the front was always moving, always changing. Not that he was complaining, it suited him fine. He didn’t cope well with inactivity and so he was rather enjoying all the excitement. It was thrilling, and new. Could you blame him?

It was as he was walking away with Obi-wan that he realized Cody had just solved the niggling though in the back of his head. The clone from this morning, the one he had bumped into. He had said he was on a shift change, but Cody had said – Cody had said there wasn’t a shift change for another few hours. Perhaps he was running some errands, but then why lie about it?

Obi-wan had said to be on the lookout for anything suspicious and that definitely counted. He would need to talk to Rex about it, see if he could identify the exact clone. Plus, Anakin wasn’t great at subtlety and that was exactly what they needed if they wanted to catch the spy. He resolved to tell rex after the days attack. Until then, he would bide his time and try not to accidently give anything away.

The worst thing about war was the waiting. Not that Cody had much experience with war, he was technically only ten years old after all, but so far, the endless hours of standing around useless grated on him more than anything else. Everyone rushed about to begin with, making plans, drawing up strategies, putting contingency after contingency in place, all in an effort to spend the next few hours sitting doing nothing. It seemed the overall consensus was, in his General’s words, ‘hurry up and wait’.

Cody had never felt the agonizing, drawn out anxiety of waiting quite like this, crouched in the North tower with a detonator in one hand and a blaster in the other.

He had never thought anything could be worse than Geonosis but this was slowly proving him wrong. Don’t get him wrong, Geonosis had been – hell. It had been the first deployment of the clones and none of them had known what to expect. Sure, they had trained and researched and run simulations, but nothing could have prepared them for that. Cody honestly doesn’t remember much of it apart from the blazing sun, and the sand, and the panic that clawed its way up his throat, clouding his judgment. It’s funny, but he also remembers picking up Kenobi’s lightsaber, holding it in his hand and feeling a pulse of, something. He knows his brain probably made it up in a moment of hysteria, but he could have sworn the lightsaber had been comforting.

So yes, Geonosis had been a Sith sworn nightmare.

But this was worse in so many ways.

sun streamed in through the great geometric windows, heating up the room. A Bead of sweat rolled down his forehead and onto his blacks. He couldn’t find the will to wipe it away and so resigned himself to the minor annoyance. Behind him, two shiny’s were discussing some brand of alcohol that they would most likely never get to taste. Crys was on his right, drumming a rhythm onto his blaster that Cody had watched him clean three time over within the space of an hour. Cody himself had cleaned his twice now. They wouldn’t have to wait much longer, in theory. If everything went to plan, which was rare when working with General Skywalker, then this would be easy. They just had to be patient.

And then there was Kenobi.

He was sitting cross-legged in the center of the floor, eyes shut in meditation. He had been that way for over an hour. It was a habit of his, meditating before conflicts. Cody figured it was a Jedi thing, though he had never seen General Skywalker do it. Then again, General Skywalker was hardly the most orthodox jedi.

It was slightly concerning if he was honest. Watching his General sit so still.

“They’re here.” General Kenobi said as his eyes snapped open. He unclasped the lightsaber from his belt and stood in one smooth motion.

Cody scanned the opening, seeing no sign of the enemy his General had just declared was upon them. He was contemplating speaking up, asking for clarification when he heard it. The rhythm of marching soldiers, or in this case, battle droids.

The reaction was instantaneous, all at once the men around him stiffened up, eyes alert and ears sharpened. The atmosphere seemed to shift in a flash and suddenly Cody was tense, finger hovering over the button on the detonator.

Seeming to read his thoughts (Kriffing force osik) His General caught his eye.

“Not too soon Cody, we want to catch as many as we can in the blast.”

His only response was a nod of the head, too focused on the brown figures coming into view to voice the instinctual ‘yes sir’ that formed on his tongue.

Ten, twenty, thirty. He counted the rows marking the number of enemies in each. One-ten, one-twenty, one-thirty, there were at least five hundred by his count. And then the tanks came rolling in behind them. Kriff. They were so screwed if this didn’t work.

“Easy,” His General murmured, and Cody startled a little. The Jedi seemed to slip into the shadows of the room, choosing when and how to emerge into the light. One minute he was the center of your attention, and the next? You forgot he was there.

“Just a little further,” Cody whispered, mostly to himself. The horde of clankers was swarming ever closer and he was itching to press the button, to blow those seppies apart. But he had to wait. He had to, as General Kenobi was so fond of telling Skywalker, have patience.

The thrum of engines grew louder in his ears as they crawled further into the clearing. Around him, his brothers were ramrod straight, it was almost humorous. They looked as though they were lined up for inspection by the kaminiise.

All at once, the noises stopped. Complete silence reigned for a split second.

“Now!” His general called and Cody happily obliged.

BOOM

The towers went down in a plume of smoke and ash. The levels they had planted explosives on blew outwards, shattering the great square windows. And then the towers toppled, smashing into the ground beneath them. It was almost as if it were in slow motion, though it was probably the adrenaline rush. His men were cheering behind him, but his ears were still ringing from the force of the blast. He looked down; a sheet of grey dust shrouded the clearing. It was impossible to tell how many they had taken out. But General Kenobi had known they were coming, if he could sense them –

“Did we get em sir?” He heard himself ask, though he still sounded muffled and distorted. His General’s mouth was pinched into a firm line and his brow was furrowed. That didn’t bode well.

“Not all of them.”

His hands found the blaster that he had dropped at some point during the initial blast, automatically checking the safety and functionality. Lucky for him, it was still good as new.

The doors behind them slid open revealing a horde of droids and Kenobi whirled, deflecting bolts too quick for Cody’s eyes to track. He shifted his blaster upwards and fired, shot after shot. They knew we were in this tower, he though as he blasted a hole in a clankers head. I suppose that means the general was right about the security breach.

He shielded his face as Kenobi threw a droid through the window, shattering the glass. Kriff. Cody had seen his General fight before, of course he had. But not like this. There was a controlled yet feral nature to his actions. He was calculated yet brutal, cold and efficient yet burning with intensity. It was mesmerizing to watch. If all jedi fought like this, then their chances of winning this blasted war were significantly higher than Cody had thought.

A blaster bolt whizzed past his head, and he cursed himself. Stay in the moment soldier.

Time passed in a hazy mix of droids, lightsabers and orders barked over the mayhem. He pulled Crys down in time to save him a trip to the medics, then quickly ripped the clankers head from its shoulders.

“Anakin,” Kenobi called over the comm when the rest of the droid had been dispatched “Our position is secure, how are you and your men holding up?”

And it was that exact moment Skywalker chose to crash through the window behind them.

“Hey master, things were getting a little crowded over there,” He said, grinning wildly as the rest of his troops barreled through the window. Cody had never been more relieved to have a sensible general.

“I see those grappling hooks came in handy,” Kenobi said. He was stood at the window Skywalker had just crashed through; one had raised as he dragged droids off the edge of the opposing tower with his mind. Kriffin force osik. Cody pulled up his blaster and started firing. The battle was almost done.

“What can I say master? I guess I was just born to fly.” Cody swore he lost braincells every time that man opened his mouth.

“You and I have very different definitions of ‘fly’ Anakin.”

Cody was in for a long day. If he had to put up with kriffing insane jedi for the rest of the war he may just save himself the trouble and ‘accidentally’ jump from the roof of the tower.

Chapter Text

"The first step towards loyalty is trust." - Season 4, episode 7

The Ambush had gone well, and it was putting Rex on edge. As far as he was concerned, nothing ever went this well when General Skywalker was involved. No disrespect to his General, but things tended to fall apart rapidly in his presence. At least there were no casualties. He was fairly sure he had General Kenobi to thank for that. He hadn’t managed to catch a glimpse of the man during the skirmish, but Crys had spent the next few hours waxing poetry about his Generals proficiency and skill.

Rex considered himself a good soldier. Not in the way that Cody was, strong and quick witted and smart, no. That’s not to say that Rex didn’t have these qualities, he just couldn’t apply them in the way Cody seemed to. But that was fine. Rex had other qualities that had seen him through the hell of Geonosis.

Ingenuity, independence, individuality.

His ability to improvise plans, use whatever resources were available to him and think on his feet had meant his survival in the first shitstorm of the clone wars.

Of course, those traits had been nothing but a burden on Kamino. The longnecks had wanted nothing short of complete conformity. They were clones after all; how could they be individual? They were born and bred to be expendable, cannon fodder in a war that didn’t concern them and trained not to question this. The Kaminoans were skeptical of him as it was. What with his blond hair and obvious defects –

(Red lights and screaming, where is CT-7564? oh god they’re going to decommission him theirgoingto-)

But he had survived. Had suppressed the thoughts in his head that whispered strategies and ideas so outside of mission parameters that it was practically a one-way ticket to reconditioning. Or worse.

And then he had been assigned to General Skywalker and he realized his entire world view was fucked.

The Vode had known startlingly little about the Jedi. They had been told that Jedi were fearsome warriors and leaders who would command them in the heat of battle. They had been told about their sorcery, their ability to move objects with their mind and control the thoughts of others. The jedi had been a sort of fairytale on kamino, a story that all cadets were told. But Rex was quickly unlearning everything he thought he knew.

Instead of warriors the Jedi were peacekeepers. They had known practically nothing about command. The aftermath of Geonosis proved that much at least. The Generals had been – clueless for lack of a better word. Except perhaps for General Kenobi, but Rex was fairly certain that man was flawless in everything he did. (He almost envied Cody for having such a competent general)

But General Skywalker had at least been creative. His strategies, though bold and reckless, had the ingenuity needed to take the enemy by surprise. They were so crazy they were good. So idiotic they actually worked. Rex wasn’t sure if Skywalker was a genius or just damn lucky.

So, when he was pulled aside by his general after the morning ambush, Rex was ready to hear another plan for a daring offensive or risky infiltration. What he was not expecting was for his General to tell him that he had found the potential traitor in their mist, and if he was correct, they had come from Slicks Barrack.

Now Rex wasn’t naïve. He knew why a brother might betray them. Credits, mercy, a promise of freedom. But it didn’t dull the sting of betrayal. They were brothers. All of them.

Vode An.

 But it seemed not everyone saw it that way. It was the shiny’s mostly who didn’t understand this; the battle bond. The ones who hadn’t walked over the desecrated ground of a battlefield and seen their own lifeless face staring back at him. Rex had heard that dying men often called out for their mothers, but the Vode didn’t have mothers. Or fathers. They only had each other. So, as they lay dying, spilling red blood onto the ground, screaming in agony and fear, they cried out for their brothers. They cried out for Rex.

It was in these moments that Rex was glad he didn’t have Batchmates.

(“something wrong with this batch.” “Cleanse them.” ” Defections-” “Not the blond one”)

The bond was always stronger with Batchmates. Rex couldn’t even begin to imagine how it must feel, watching the life slowly slip from the men you had spent all of your life with. 

If there was a traitor in Slicks squad, Rex would find them. He would bring them to justice for putting his brothers in danger. He couldn’t protect all of them, not from the war. But he could save them this, Protect them now. And that would have to be enough.

He spoke to Cody first. Rex didn’t have batchmates, but Cody came pretty damn close. He had been trained by him after all, taught everything he knew. If there was one person he could count on, it was Cody.

“You’re sure about this?” was the first thing Cody said and the look of betrayal that flashed across his face was almost too quick for Rex to see. But Rex had spent his life around brothers with the same face, he knows its ticks and quirks.

“No.” Rex admitted. He had no evidence, only what he had been told. But it was something. A start at least. It was the best lead they had so far anyways. “But General Skywalker is.”

Cody furrowed his brow and rubbed a hand across his chin. Rex had seen General Kenobi pull the exact same move during briefings.

“Okay then,” He said eventually, “But we tell General Kenobi first.”

Rex would laugh in any other situation. Cody had always been by the book, following procedure to the letter. It seemed the war had done nothing to change that. The thought was funnier than it should have been. Especially since Rex knew Cody was like that for survival. Most nat-borns would jump at the chance to send clones back to Kamino for ‘defections’.

“Okay Vod, we tell your general first.”

Cody’s answering grin had too many teeth. Rex couldn’t help himself but to return it. He didn’t have batchmates, was glad for that fact because kriff it they were at war. But – maybe it was selfish – but he thought he wouldn’t mind having batchmates so much if Cody was one of them.

 The battle had been both the same as Obi-wan remembered and completely different.

The tension had been the same, waiting for what seemed to be hours for the enemy to strike. The madness that followed was certainly familiar, the haze of droids and blaster fire blending each moment into the next. The outcome was most certainly different.

They had been forced to retreat before. They had been beaten.

This time they had been prepared. Obi-wan had known about the security breach, had warned of the spy. And he had changed the outcome.

That scared him more than anything. He hadn’t been certain if he could change things here. If it was a Sith trick then surely, he would have failed. Watched his men die again. But he hadn’t. he had saved them, changed the past (Afterlife? Hallucination? Whatever the hell this was). And if he could change that, he could change everything else.

He could save them all.

The thought rung in his head. It was silly, there was no way he would be able to save all of them and there was still the chance that none of this was real at all. But maybe here in this dreamlike world he could make a better future. He had failed once before; he wasn’t intending on doing so again.

But this brought up a new problem. The more he changed, the less he would know. All his prior experience would mean nothing if he changed everything all at once. He would have to be subtle, stick to his timeline as much as possible if he wanted to save as many as possible. The thought was borderline infuriating. If this wasn’t real, then surely it wouldn’t matter? He could do whatever he wanted.

But the selfish part of him needed to believe that he could make things right. That he could absolve himself of the guilt and fix everything he had broken. He would never get a better chance than this.

So, when Cody and Rex cornered him a few hours of the battle, he made sure he had the time to listen. In his previous life he had been good friends with both clones, and a part of him desperately wanted that connection again.

(He doesn’t think about how the distrust in Cody’s gaze tears a part of his soul. He also doesn’t think about Utapua.)

“Commander Cody, Captain Rex, what can I do for you,” He asked as he motioned them into his quarters. He was vaguely aware of the maps and strategies spread over his desk and reminds himself to clean them up when he has a chance.

“We have a suspicion about the security breach, sir.” Cody said, voice flat and professional, hands down by his sides. Obi-wan noted that he hadn’t even removed his helmet. The distance that his commander had placed between them shouldn’t be surprising, it also shouldn’t hurt as much as it did. The clones had been taught that if they showed anything but blind obedience and deference, they would be hurt. Decommissioned. The word felt like a curse in his mind and his heart ached for the clones who had been lost to the Kaminoans cruelty. It had been the first thing Shaak Ti had put a stop to upon arriving on Kamino.

 “I see,” he said, maintaining the same level of professionalism his commander was clearly keen to keep.

“We believe they are one of the clones in Slick’s barracks, sir, although we are yet to identify them.”

That was the same as last time, Obi-wan thought. It had been Slick before, selling his brothers out to the separatists. He hadn’t been entirely wrong though. He had seen his position for what it was – slavery. He had done what he had though was right. Obi-wan couldn’t help but to pity him and hates himself for that.

“Excellent, commander,” He said, “Though I do believe we can hold off on the identification for now. We wouldn’t want to arouse suspicions. In the meantime, I think it’s time we paid a visit behind enemy lines.”  Everything was coming back to him now, he had played this game before, and this time, he intended to win.

“Sir?” Cody asked, force presence shrouded with uncertainty. Trust his Commander to worry. It had always been one of Cody’s strong suits – worrying. Not that he was complaining, Cody’s incessant worrying had often been the reason for his survival. Obi-wan couldn’t quite hide the small smile that slipped over his face.

“If we can send false information through our spy, then it is possible we could lay a trap for the enemy. A bold attack on their main base should draw their attention, and I know exactly the man for the job.”

“General Skywalker?” Rex asked, seemingly by accident as his force presence shied in embarrassment.

Obi-wan only grinned wider, far too many teeth on show.

“Anakin.”

When his Master had told Anakin the plan, he had thought for a brief moment that someone had killed Obi-wan and taken his place.

Okay, saying it like that in his head did make it sound a little ridiculous, but Anakin had never known his master to be so – Rash, for lack of a better word. Sure, he had known Obi-wan was awesome and perfect in almost everything he did, a cunning warrior and skilled negotiator. But there was something in his smile that held an edge of wildness. Something Anakin had never seen on his former master before.

Maybe it had something to do with how he had been acting the other day, all pale and shaken up. At first Anakin had thought it was a fever or something mundane, possibly even a migraine like the ones he used to get when Anakin was still a youngling.

He remembered how Obi-wan had looked then, lying motionless in one of master Che’s wards. He had always smiled at Anakin; had always said he would soon be better and there was nothing to worry over.

(He doesn’t remember the time Obi-wan had to be sedated. Doesn’t remember him thrashing on the bed, calling out for Qui-Gon. He doesn’t remember how he was too afraid to help)

But now he wasn’t so sure. His master didn’t seem ill, just anxious and stressed. Of course, his master was always anxious and stressed but this was different. This was more, somehow.

 whatever it was, it seemed to have passed. Or at least was not as severe as the other day. His master, though still pale and prone to flinch from contact, was looking far more like his normal self. He would be looking almost exactly like his normal self if not for the predatory gleam in his eye. It made it incredibly hard for Anakin to be relieved when he wasn’t sure if he should be quite yet.

The force pulled him from his thoughts as two more battle droids joined their tales.

The world whizzed past the two as they flew over the ground on their speeders. The nose of Obi-wans’ was just ahead of his, and Anakin almost laughed at the silent message. Of course, he would stay behind his master for this mission.

Probably.

Maybe.

It went like this.

Obi-wan was almost as dramatic as Anakin was. People usually didn’t realize it at first, but he was.

Despite this, his strategies were always well thought out, carefully set in place and acted out.

The plan Anakin had been briefed on was so reckless that he didn’t think even he would have thought of it. And he was known for his ridiculous plans and bold strategies.

So of course, Anakin agreed to it at once.

It was only now as he and Obi-wan were speeding away from the base that he was having second thoughts. Well, not exactly ‘second thoughts’ more like – concerns. About Obi-wan.  If he really was ill, the way he had been when Anakin was young, then surely he should be avoiding activity. Anakin wanted to shake him by the shoulders and tell him to lie down for force sake.

Then again, he had never been able to get his master to rest. Not once in his life.

He looked over at Obi-wan and sent him a message through the bond.

Their following us.

Obviously his master was aware of this, Anakin himself had been monitoring the steadily increasing number of droids that were tailing them. He had to fight every impulse in his body, all of which were screaming at him to reach for his saber. But there was no warning in the force, there was nothing but a vague sense of apprehension.

Obi-wan nodded back to him.

It’s working.

Good. Great. That was brilliant.

It’s not like they would be stranded alone in enemy territory without any backup if this went sideways.

He kept reassuring himself that everything would be fine as he and his master pulled up outside of the separatist’s base. The dark curtain of the night turned the turquoise crystal into a navy blue and the windows into pools of black ink.

“Ready?” He asked his master, his signature smirk playing on his lips.

“Always.”

They would be fine. The plan was crazy, but sound. Nothing out of the ordinary had happened yet.

 So really, what could go wrong?

A lot could go wrong, apparently.

Anakin would like to state for the record that this was, in no way his fault.

Everything had gone fine to begin with, they had made it through the front door without being stopped. In fact, they had met no resistance at all, courtesy of one spy who was currently being hunted down by Cody and Rex back at base.

He and his master had just waltzed up the steps to the first floor, and that was where they met their first problem in the form of one Asajj Ventress.

Chapter Text

"A plan is only as good as those who see it through." - season 1, episode 4

“So, this is the belly of the beast” Anakin said from his position next to Obi-wan glancing around the interior of the room.

It certainly is, Obi-wan thought as they came to stop in the center of the room. It was just as he remembered it, with one major difference. If memory served, then any moment now –

A dark figure seemed to emerge from the wall. The hood of their cloak was drawn up to their face and their force presence was bathed in darkness that writhed liked tentacles.

Bingo.

“Ventress, and here I thought this mission would be unpleasant,” He said, batting his eyelids slightly as he slid back into ‘the negotiator’.

“The pleasures all mine my dear Obi-wan, I’ve missed you.”

Of course. Obi-wan had almost been able to forget the time he spent with Ventress and Alpha-17 on Rattatak. Almost.

 She let the cloak drop from her shoulders and pulled the two sabers from their clasps, igniting them in a dramatic flair of blood red.

He followed suit, igniting his own.

Obi-wan had – mixed feelings about Ventress. She had killed innocents, tortured Alpha-17, committed atrocities. But in the end, she had been, ok. For a darksider. He had met her once after everything, in a bar on Tatooine as he tried to drink himself to death. She could have turned him in, fetched a hefty reward from the empire for her service.

Instead, she had bought him a drink.

He opened his mouth in an attempt to solve things peacefully when Anakin blurred past him, blue connecting with red. He sighed, but that was Anakin for you, ever on the move. Thinking with his heart instead of his head.

Obi-wan shot forward, blocking a blow that otherwise would have connected with his padawans side. Honestly that boy, never aware of his surroundings.

Ventress threw herself backwards, landing nimbly in a crouch, sabers spread out behind her like wings.

“My loyal informant let me know you were coming.” She purred, smiling cruelly.

That was good. If she was telling them about Slick, then she didn’t know he was already being hunted down. She didn’t know they were aware of her trap. Obi-wan was starting to think this plan wasn’t so crazy after all.

“Well then we thank you for your hospitality.” He said and ignored Anakin rolling his eyes.

Mature, Anakin.

They jumped forward again as one and Ventress twisted, bringing her blades up to meet them. He recognized Dooku’s favored form of Makashi at once. But the thing that caught his attention most was the underlying ferocity beneath each move. The barely noticeable forms of the Nightsisters.

“Tell me ventress,” He began throwing all of his weight behind his saber and forcing her backwards. “What would your mother think of you now?”

She growled and suddenly Anakin was falling backwards, off balance. A force push. She brought both her sabers down on his fallen form and Obi-wan leapt forward, intercepting the strike intended for his head.

“Is this what she would have wanted for you?” he asked, as though remarking on the weather.

“You know nothing, Jedi.”

“Really? Because I have met her you know.”

The cunning grin slid off her face and her eyes widened. Her sabers slipped downwards slightly as her grip on the relaxed and Obi-wan took the opportunity to push her towards the set of carved turquoise stairs, ignoring Anakin’s almost frantic questioning through the bond.

“She loved you, did you know?”

He was almost surprised when he figured it out, but it was true. Mother Talzin, for all her faults, truly did care about her daughters. The Nightsisters were a family, no matter how twisted and dark.

“You know nothing Jedi Scum!” she repeated. The snarl that adorned her face was nothing sort of savage, but there was a vulnerability in her eyes, hesitation in her moves.

“I know she would have wanted better for you. You have failed her.” He was vaguely aware of Anakin hovering beside him, confusion radiating from his force presence. He didn’t have time to focus on that though because Ventress’ expression sharpened again, the weakness she had previously displayed wiped clean.

“It was her who failed ME! She gave me up, threw me away like I was nothing. The Sith taught me power, power that you want to take!” She didn’t seem to know who to convince of this, Obi-wan or herself.

“That may be so, but I don’t want to kill you.” He was momentarily shocked to find that it was true. Despite everything she had done, he didn’t want to kill her.

Confusion slid over her face so quickly that Obi-wan almost missed it. But then she smiled again, that coy little smirk.

“Your compassion is your weakness,” She drawled, “It will destroy you.”

(His eyes are yellow, oh force they’re yellow.)

(Where is Cody? He’s falling. Why is he falling? Down down down down down downdowndown.)

(I’m sorry master. I’m not coming back.)

“It already has.”

He sprung into motion, Anakin by his side as always. Together they advanced on the Sith acolyte, blending blue into red into blue. Obi-wan shifted forms. Soresu Ataru. She was quick, but together they could be in two places at once, their bond making it easy to predict the others actions and move in sink.

He had missed this. This easy trust between them.

The blue of Anakin’s saber swung forward, missing Ventress by an inch. She clenched her teeth and turned, bolting up the set of stairs to the second floor.

Anakin turned and grinned at him, Obi-wan could only nod grimly back. They followed her up.

It took a minute for his eyes to adjust to the new setting. In the center of the floor, Asajj ventress sat cross legged on the floor, sabers resting in her lap. She appeared to be calm as a breeze on a Summers day. But Obi-wan knew better than to trust appearances.

“Give up Ventress!” he called out to her.

“I’m all yours Obi-wan,”

Anakin shot forward and Obi-wan shot out an arm, barely managing to work out an “Anakin no!” before ventress turned her sabers on and the floor disappeared from underneath them.

“You’ve served your purpose, it’s too late now. So hard to know whom to trust this day, isn’t it?”

Anakin was grinning next to him and Obi-wan sent him a mental poke. He was going to give them away.

“You’ve overestimated your abilities my sweet,” he accused as Anakin’s face fell blank.

Ventress, fortunately didn’t seem to notice this byplay and instead seemed amused by his statement.

“Really?” She asked, oozing sarcasm.

Anakin pressed the button attached to his sleeve. He waited a second. Two seconds. Three.

Come on, what was taking them so long, he couldn’t stall forever.

“Really.”

At that moment an alarm sounded from within the base and the smirk fell from Ventress’ face. And so it begins.

“It looks like we’ve outdone you this time my dear.”

She snarled, but didn’t move towards them, instead turning towards the window. She smashed it open with the force and leapt out into the night.

And he thought Anakin was dramatic.

Briefly, he entertained going after her. Best not. Maybe with some time to stew on what he’d told her she would be more agreeable. If only she had somehow managed to keep her three years of self-improvement.

Shame.

Plus, she was at the center of the attack. She may get stopped by an army of clones yet.

“Come on master, we’ve got a battle to win.” Anakin teased as clone troopers streamed in from the doors.

Obi-wan wasn’t going to argue, he was right after all.

“You have the charges?”

Anakin nodded, still grinning madly.

“Then whatever are you waiting for?”

Denal considered himself to be rather competent. Not particularly intelligent, not a genius, but capable. A perfectly average, perfectly capable clone. After all, you didn’t make it through both kamino and geonosis by being anything different. And because he was competent and rational, he knew that this mission was never going to work. They were going to get caught out and killed. He was honestly surprised they had made it as far as they had when it was nothing short of suicide.

The problem with being a competent clone was that too often, you were dismissed as cannon fodder. Now don’t get him wrong, that was what clones were born and bred to be, but Denal thought that point of view was rather – limiting. Clones were born to die, but they were raised to fight. It was all Denal had ever known, fighting in simulations, in deserts, in battles, fighting to survive. Fighting to die. And when you had been fighting as long as Denal had, you picked up a few things.

It was abundantly clear that the Jedi had not been fighting as long as Denal.

They were inexperienced, unqualified, and really not that much better than a shiny. At least shinies had some training, however fake or simulated. The Jedi, as Denal had found out, had no grounding whatsoever in the art of warfare. In their own words, they were peacekeepers, not General’s. He had thought at first that Kenobi was at least smart about the situation, he seemed to know exactly what he was doing in everything he did. And then he proposed this plan and Denal wasn’t so sure anymore.

As he waded through the sewage pipes that ran beneath the great crystal buildings, only one thought swirled round and round in his head.

I’m going to die here, covered in shit and piss.

It certainly wasn’t the best way to die. It wasn’t dying in glory on the battlefield or slipping away with a drink in your hand and a wife on your shoulder. But if he thought about it, it wasn’t the worst way to die either. After all he was ‘serving his republic’ and ‘fighting off evil’ and all that other osik. Only the republic had never been his and he had grown up surrounded by evil. After facing the Kaminiise every day of his damn life, the separatists were nothing more than stray mutts.  

That was another thing about being competent. He understood his place in the world. Understood what it meant to be a slave. It was almost funny; the republic had managed to convince their slaves that they wanted to be dying for them. That they were meant to be dying for them. If Denal was not so cynical, he may have thought the same thing.

But Denal was cynical. Cynical and competent. The two traits that kept him alive.

For how much longer was still to be seen.

“You set the charges yet?” Koho’s voice echoed up the pipe.

For some reason that he still couldn’t puzzle out, Captain Rex had stayed behind at base to catch the spy and had put Denal, of all clones, in charge of the operation. Which first of all, was slightly terrifying. And second of all, was a pain in the shebs. Honestly, he wondered how Rex managed. Screw Rex, how in the name of the force did Marshal Commander Cody manage? Denal had only been in charge for a maximum of 3 hours, and he was already getting migraines.

“Charges are set, we wait for the signal.”

Another one of General Kenobi’s brilliant ideas. Blow up the enemy whilst they’re distracted by the two Jedi. Sure. That will work. It wasn’t like the plan was stupid and full of holes, containing no less than seven major flaws. The first of which being that it relied entirely on the fact that the enemy wouldn’t know they were coming. And since Denal knew there was a spy running around somewhere, he wasn’t convinced of that fact. Sure, Rex and Cody were supposed to be dealing with it, but anything could go wrong.

They could fail to catch him.

He could belong to another squad

He could have already sent out the message.

Okay, maybe he was overthinking a little. He trusted Rex; he was Denal’s captain after all. But overthinking had kept him alive so far, so he’d keep analyzing every possible outcome.

Although, here, crouching in sewage water waiting on a signal that he wasn’t sure he would ever receive, it was hard to believe it would do him any good.

The seconds ticked by in an orderly fashion and Denal mentally mapped out the timeline. If he was correct, then the Jedi should be in the main base by now, out of range of the blast. They should be distracting the Sith acolyte, buying time for the ground team to set the rest of the charges and get the kriff out of there.

“Sir!” Koho called. Force did Denal hate being called ‘sir’. It made him feel all important. But he turned to look anyway. The light on his arm was flashing. Two blinks, then stop. Two blinks, then stop.

The signal.

Well I’ll be damned, Denal thought, we may just survive this yet.

“That’s our signal boys, light her up!”

All at once, they set off their charges.

The muffled boom shook in his ears and the sewage pipe rumbled. Dust streaked down from the ceiling. For a brief, panicked moment Denal thought it was going to come down on them. But it didn’t, it stayed just where it was. For once, he was glade for his helmet. That dust would have stung like hell if it had gotten in his eyes.

Wayii, this might just work.

He shoved the butt of his blaster upwards, forcing the drain upwards and off.

“Come on boys, we’ve got a war to win.” He shouted down the line before hauling himself up onto the crystal paved streets of Christophsis.

If I survive this, I owe one General Kenobi a drink. Or maybe he owes me.

The thought was so bizarre he had to laugh. The pinnacle of a competent, rational clone.

Chapter Text

"Greed and fear of loss are the roots that lead to the tree of evil" - season 1, episode 13

Cody wasn’t upset that he had been left behind to catch the mole. He wasn’t. Afterall, this was crucial to the mission. If the traitor wasn’t caught, and caught fast, then the whole attack could be in jeopardy.

Still, he couldn’t help himself from thinking about his men, out there in the field.

The only thing he could do to protect them from here was catch the damn spy and that was going oh so brilliantly.

Cody would have very much liked to weed out the traitor himself, but he figured he would let Rex have a go of it first. For now, he would watch. A passive observer. A familiar face (Ha).

“I – I dunno. I was doing the things I always do after a mission.” The clone - jester, Cody’s mind supplied – was saying, twitching slightly under Rex’s unwavering gaze.

“Things like what?” Rex had his arms crossed over his torso, towering over the sitting clone. The very definition of intimidating. I taught him well.

Jester audibly gulped and Cody had to squish the small smirk that tried to form on his lips. It was almost concerning how much he enjoyed messing with shiny’s. Maybe it was unfair, they were probably the only living thing with a lower status than him, but it was just too easy.

“I’m sorry sir, I’m just a little nervous.” He leaned forward “You’re my CO.” jester whispered, as though confiding some great secret.

“The way I figure it, you tell the truth, you’ve got nothing to be nervous about.”

“Jester is telling the truth. Cleans his weapon after every mission. First thing every time. He’s kind of obsessed that way.” A clone cut in from across the room. Well, at least they were supporting each other. There was nothing like a little trauma to bring a team together. He could speak from experience, Geonosis was one hell of a team building exercise.

“Is that right? You were cleaning your weapon?” Cody asked. Yes, he was an observer, but it seemed Rex was playing bad cop, which left a fairly obvious role for himself.

“Yessir!” Jester snapped to attention. As much of a headache as being a commander was, it had its uses on occasion. Respect being one of those things, but his daily ration of caff was much appreciated. Even if it did taste like watered down cardboard mixed with dirt.

“Go on the computer while you were in here?” he asked, glancing at the machine on his left. If he had used it, if he had so much as turned it on, they would be able to check. Catch him out on a lie.

“No Sir, I dint even power it up. You can check.” Jester said. He caught Rex’s eye. Oh, they would check. But for now, he would let it go. After all, he was supposed to be playing good cop.

“Show me your weapon.” He demanded in a barely passable imitation of a ‘good cop’. Despite how long he had served under the general, he had not learned much of the negotiator’s way of negotiating. He never had been one for small talk. He preferred to get straight to things. Of all the things Cody hated about General Skywalker, his direct attitude was the thing he hated least.

The clone took the blaster from the floor and passed it to Cody, and he cast a critical eye over it.

“Yup, freshly scrubbed.” And it was. Perfectly clean and polished to perfection. Not too different from Cody’s own blaster and in any other situation, he would almost be impressed. Almost.

“My rags over there in the corner.” Jester finished, gesturing to a dirty cloth over by the wall. Well, one clone down.

“Good man. You. You were cleaning your weapon too?” Cody asked, abruptly turning to the clone on his left. That was probably a little too aggresive for the so called ‘good cop’.

“No, I was hungry. I went back to the mess.” The clone said. Well, that wasn’t annoying at all, there would have been other clones in the mess to verify the story. Except they all had the same face, and this batch was a bunch of shiny’s wearing matching amour, clean as you please. So no, it wasn’t at all annoying.

“Right away?” Rex asked and Cody turned his attention back to the issue at hand. Getting distracted was not helpful to anyone.

“Oh yeah.” The clone confirmed, nodding almost frantically.

“Anyone with ya?”

“Sketch sir.” The clone gestured to the clone next to him, and Cody’s eyes followed the movement.

“We got to the mess at the same time, got our grub and sat together.” Sketch recounted, ticking off each action like items on a shopping list. It seemed that was two more clones accounted for, unless they were both lying.

“Anyone else in the mess able to confirm what you two are sayin?” Rex asked, seeming to read Cody’s thoughts. I really did teach him well.

“Lots of guys there, ask any of them.” Sketch said and Rex’s face darkened into a scowl.

“Oh, we will.”

He really wasn’t going easy on the shiny’s. Cody approved.

“Captain,” Slick interrupted, placing a hand on Rex’s shoulder, “give me just a moment with them – “

“No.” Rex cut off immediately, and Cody agreed. It was possible that Slick was trying to cover for one of his squad. After all, the vode were loyal to not only the republic, but to each other as well.

“It’s okay sarge,” the clone next in line for inspection appeased, “I got nothing to hide, I was in the infirmary,” he gestured to his arm, swathed in bandages that were stained slightly with the telltale rust brown of dried blood. “Got banged up pretty good by one of those clankers, med droid was fixing me up.”

Cody leant down to examine the bandage. It was all too easy to fake a wound, but the tight gauze was easily recognizable as Bones’ handy work.

“Doc’s got all the records there, if you wanna check.” The clone finished, and Cody backed away, satisfied with the answer.

“So, chopper ol’ boy, what’s your alibi?” Rex started again, continuing their interrogation.

“I was in the mess hall – “

“No you weren’t! – I – I mean–“ The clone who interrupted stuttered off, looking suddenly unsure of himself. That wasn’t good, whatever he knew was clearly damning. Maybe he needed a little bit of encouragement.

“If you know something kid, you should speak up” He urged, hoping it would be enough to spur the shiny into action.

“Chopper came in a lot later, after everyone else” the clone added lamely, looking awkward and ashamed of ratting out his brother. Poor bastard.

“Where were you before you went to the mess Chopper?” Rex asked, leaning into the whole ‘bad cop’ thing.

“Nowhere, walking around.” Chopper said vaguely, shrugging his shoulders. Cody did not like that attitude. If this was Kamino, he would have been sent straight to decommissioning.

“Son, you know we need a better answer than that.” Cody said in what he hoped was a passable imitation of ‘good cop’ though it was hard to keep the bite out of his words.

“I was hiding, at the south exit, didn’t want anyone to see me string these together” chopper admitted, holding up the sad and crumpled remains of a clanker.

“Battle droid fingers.” Rex identified. That was – not good. Being caught with contraband. If this was Kamino, that would be enough of an indication to be marked ‘defective’. Bu the shiny’s hadn’t spent as long on Kamino as Cody. They hadn’t been there in the first few years, back when the prime was there. They hadn’t seen what the Kaminisse were truly capable of.

Cody was almost glad for that.

“I – I just wanted something back. I guess I felt like – like they owed me.” Chopper said, clutching the metal in his hands hard enough to draw a line of blood.

Cody could almost – understand. Fighting for the republic was not as glamorous as the propaganda made it out to be, and the position of a clone in society was not one to boast about.

“I always knew there was something deficient about you.” A clone cut in, dragging Cody from his thoughts

“This isn’t good chopper, lying about where you were? Taking forbidden items from a battlefield?” Slick said, closing the distance between himself and the clone.

“I know.”

“I put up with the attitude cause you have skill, but if you could break these rules? Your whole characters in question here.” Slick accused, voice raising in anger. If it had been one of Cody’s batchmates, he would have reacted the same way.

“Wait – no. Hang on, I’m no spy!” Chopper insisted, an edge of desperation creeping into his voice. Every clone knew what would happen if you betrayed the republic, even if they hadn’t spent that long on Kamino.

“Chopper, we’re all brothers but how can we trust anything you say now?”

“No! Sir, I’m telling you, I did not -!” Chopper insisted, but his pleas fell on deaf ears. Traitors were not kindly taken to among clones. Among anyone really, but it felt different when it was family.

“It’s okay, we’ll get you a proper investigation. You don’t need to say anything until the jedi get back and talk to you.” Slick assured. Cody almost nodded before his brain caught up. Until the jedi get back. Only they weren’t supposed to know the jedi were gone.

He signaled subtly to Rex and received a barely perceptible nod in response. Message received.

“Maybe you should talk sir! Tell ‘em where you went! I was the south exit, remember? I saw you go in sir, I saw you.”

“Chopper, I have been patient – “

“Everyone else turned right, towards the barracks and the mess, you turned left, toward the command center. Where were you going – sir?” Chopper spat, and Cody had to admire the kids’ guts. Shouting at someone in command of you was one hell of a move to make when under suspicion of treason, but considering the facts available to him, things weren’t looking so good for ol’ Slick.

“Obviously the kid feels cornered.”

“Sergeant, what did you mean ‘until the jedi get back’ how did you know the jedi were gone?” Cody asked, finally voicing the thought that had been swirling around in his head. Next to him, Rex was wound like a spring. Ready to shoot into action at the first hint of battle.

“I really wish you hadn’t noticed that sir.” Slick said, attempting to back up.

And then he sprang forward, barreling straight into Cody and past him. Rex brought the barrel of his gun down, missing Slick by a hair’s breadth.

We’re going to lose him, Cody thought as he turned to face the traitor, but as Slick reached the door, something white slammed into him.

Chopper.

He knew as soon as that idiot barreled into him, he had messed up. Armour clashed with armour, a fist landed on his face and suddenly they were sprawled on the floor. As hit after hit landed on the bloodied mess of Slicks nose, all he could think about was how severely he had miscalculated. And as the Marshall commander pulled the screaming clone away, towering over him and forcing cuffs on his wrists, Slick took a moment to review.

There were a few things that Slick knew for certain.

He was a slave to the republic.

He could be free with the separatists.

There was no mercy for traitors.

These three things had been the constants of his life for a while now. It was what he had based his grand plan on. The promise of freedom, revenge for his brothers, and a fuck you to the republic that had enslaved them.

So yes, he had miscalculated.

He had thought the Jedi too naïve, too new to command to notice anything unusual. They were untrained, weak. But Slick? He had been hiding his whole life. In and out of shadows, away from the Kaminnise, away from the prying eyes of his brothers who judged him as he smuggled contraband into dorms, away from the enemy opposite him. Away from the enemy beside him.

It was- regrettable that his brothers had been caught up in the crossfire, but unavoidable.

They were blind. All of them. They couldn’t see what was right in front of them, their own enslavement. But Slick could. Slick could see it all.

Except he hadn’t. He had missed the Jedi’s discovery of his treachery. He had underestimated them.

They were going to kill him. It was what they did with traitors. Well, that’s not entirely true, he thought. After all, you can’t kill a clone, only decommission one.

That didn’t make it any less terrifying.

The cell they had put him in was small, damp, and stuffy. The perfect place to review his mistakes and do some soul searching. If he even had a soul to search. But he didn’t want to do that, no. There were bigger things to do, bigger things to plan. The separatist knew who he was now, the republic recognized him as a traitor. His options were few and thinning, but they were there.

He reached a hand to his nose and immediately drew it back, hissing. That bastard. Slick had put up with all his shit and this was how he was repaid, a black and blue face dripping with blood. He can’t be sure, but he thinks Cody stalled a bit on purpose before pulling chopper away. He was sadistic like that.

The pain wasn’t unwelcomed though, it fueled his fire, brought him back to the present and helped clear his mind. It was familiar

All he needed was the right opportunity.

And who knew, with all the peace loving Bantha-shit the republic and the jedi were pulling, maybe they wouldn’t even execute – sorry – decommission him.

After all, they were the ‘good side’. Blinded by their own ambition and brought down by the weakness of their compassion. A false thing that clawed its way out of coruscant slums.

That seemed rather optimistic for the way Slicks luck had been going. He may as well hope for a krayt dragon to miraculously burst through the cell walls and carry him to safety before turning back to destroy the republic and sleep in its ruins.

No matter.

He still had time until the Jedi returned.

If they kept him alive, he would have even more. All he had to do was wait.

A game he was all too familiar with.

Speaking of games-

“Hey Crys!” He called out, and the clone guard sighed.

“Cody says not to talk to traitors.” He said shortly, turning back to his stiff ‘I’m a big clone see’ position.

“Well, if Cody said, god forbid you go against him.” Slick grumbled. He hated the guy, but slick envied the way he could control people. Slick had never managed to control his squad in the same way Cody had reigned over his. And Cody hadn’t even used fear that often, he used respect.

“What say we play a little game you and me,” he said, continuing on when Cry’s stubbornly ignored him. “It’s not a hard game, it’s pretty easy. And you don’t even have to talk to me to play it, just like Cody said.”

That got a reaction, a small one, but a reaction, nonetheless. A quiver of amour, a stiffening of positions, the creak of a gun being gripped tighter.

“It’s called ‘Graveyard’ and its simple. All you need to do is stand there and listen while I list the names of all our brothers that the republic has sacrificed for their peace.” He said spitting out the last word like it was comprised of poison. The little rattle of armor almost too faint to hear gave him satisfaction that some may have called sick or twisted.

“Are you ready?”

No answer. That was fine, he wasn’t expecting one. The shaking figure of his brother was enough of a response for slick.

“Now, where should we start? How about Epsilon Company?”

He smiled; Slick had been waiting for a moment like this. A chance to make them all see the hell they were living in.

“Scorcher, Spark, Buck, Griff, Hop-“

He settled down in the corner as he rattled off name after name. It was going to be a long night.

Chapter Text

"Belief is not a matter of choice, but of conviction." - Season 1, episode 2

When Obi-wan returned to the base, it was to the sound of celebration and merriment. Not that he could blame the clones, they had just won the battle with extraordinarily few casualties. They had caught the traitor, defeated the enemy, and completed their mission. What more was there?

If only they knew…

But they didn’t. couldn’t. How could anyone have predicted the future to come. The impossibilities that were anything but. It was no use worrying about that now. It was all in the past, or future, whatever way you wanted to look at it.

He had to find Cody.

He knew that Slick was found out, detained, shoved into a room to act as a makeshift cell. And Obi-wan desperately needed to talk to him. Because this was where it all started. The first republic clone to betray them. It was unlikely that Slick knew anything, but it was worth a shot. In all honesty, Obi-wan didn’t know where else to start.

He approached Boil as the clone joked with Waxer. He hated the way they shrunk in his presence, how when they saw him, they turned back into ‘clones’ instead of ‘individual people’. He smiled as encouragingly as possible, but still the force quivered with their worry.

“General Sir!” Boil called, snapping a salute and stiffening up. He really had to work on that. He would just have to show the clones that he would never hurt them, never allow them to be hurt the way they had been.

(But he did, he couldn’t save them all. He tried, he tried so hard. But he couldn’t – couldn’t-)

“No need for that Boil, I was only wondering if you knew where I might find commander Cody.” He said, raising his hands as though placating a teenage Anakin.

Now there’s no need for that, he used to say as Anakin stormed around in a huff, release your emotions to the force dear one, do not let them control you.

“He’s watching the traitor, sir.” Waxer interrupted, and Obi-wan nodded his thanks. That was convenient, though unsurprising. Cody probably felt responsible for Slicks actions and was likely giving himself extra work to make up for his perceived ‘failures’. At the end of the war, Obi-wan had sometimes managed to pull him out of that way of thinking. Sometimes.

“I’m afraid I must leave you to celebrate alone then, we have some things to discuss.”

“Sir!”

And with that, he offered them a friendly wave and wandered off to find his dear commander. Not that it was going to be hard, Obi-wan knew exactly where he was. His force presence was a hard thing to miss.

The walk to the makeshift dungeon was short, and it filled him with nostalgia. The men celebrating around him, the thrum of victory in the air, it was all so familiar. He found himself wondering once again what this was. Why this was, even. It couldn’t be a hallucination. It was too real, and the force was too bright, too easy to grasp. As for an afterlife or a Sith mind game –

“General?”

Cody’s voice broke him from his thoughts, and he smiled at the clone in question. “Cody! Just the man I was looking for, it appears that you have caught our spy.” The smirk that slipped onto his face was instinctual, the persona of the negotiator feeling like a second skin.

“Yessir.” And of course, the one-word answers were unavoidable. Obi-wan knew that Cody had spent his time on Kamino being brainwashed into believing he was expendable and unimportant. That didn’t dull the sting in the least.

“I think perhaps I should have a little talk with him,” He felt Cody tense and quickly remembered that at this stage in the war, a private talk between a general and a treasonous clone could only go one way for the clone. “Just a talk,” He quickly added, “I need to gather some information. Then he may be transferred back to coruscant and imprisoned for his crimes against the republic.”

The way Cody’s presence sagged in relief would be comical in any other situation. But despite his rough exterior, Cody cared for his brothers more than anything. And even after everything he had done, Obi-wan knew that Slick still counted.

“Of course General, he’s in here.” Cody gestured to the door behind him and hands Obi-wan a keycard. “Rex is in there at the moment, guard duty.” He added.

Obi-wan took a deep breath and silently prayed to the force. He asked for courage, to face whatever this was. He asked for hope, a sign that he could fix things. But more than anything, he begged for answers. Why had the clones betrayed the jedi? What was this place he was in? Why was he here?

He slid the keycard into the door.

The room was dark. It took a second for his eyes to adjust, but when they did, he was faced with the bloodied mess of what was once Slicks face. His nose was crooked, broken most likely and the dried blood had caked around it. His lip was split, and both his eyes were bruised. The cut on his forehead oozed blood sluggishly.

Well, that was certainly different from the first time.

He noticed Rex next, leaning against a wall in the corner. He could feel a barely perceptible tremor in his emotions. Perhaps it was something Slick had said to him.

“Well, well, well, if it isn’t the jedi come to visit a lowly traitor.” Slicks voice dripped with sickly poison and irony. Obi-wan had heard the gossip, about how it was Chopper who had taken him down this time. Obi-wan didn’t know what he had changed to cause that, but it must have been something.

“I think it best we have a little chat. Captain Rex, I do believe it best I talk with him alone.” He hated that he had to make Rex leave, but it was for the best. Perhaps he could even gain some more trust from the clone captain when Slick was no worse for ware after the mock interrogation. The guilt still burned in his throat when Rex left stiffly, a hint of panic roiling beneath his calm. It would be fine. Obi-wan could still feel Cody outside the room, at least Rex would have him to lean on.

“Now then,” He began, turning to slick, “I do believe we have some things to discuss.”

Slick stared ahead at the wall, showing no signs of having heard Obi-wan speak. But Obi-wan didn’t need words to understand people. He had the force after all, and it was whispering at him to have patience. After all, good things come to those who wait.

After a few minutes of silence, Slick turned to face him. “If you’re going to kill me, you may as well get on with it.”

“I’m not here to kill you Slick. I’m here for answers.” The clone in question scoffed, letting loose an ironic laugh.

“Sure, and I’m considered a person under republic law. Not like I got any answers to give you anyways.”

“Now, I’m not sure that’s true. Let’s start simple. Why did you betray the republic?”

“BECAUSE THEY BETRAYED ME!” Slick shouted, shoving himself to his feet, righteous anger burning beneath his skin. Immediately, all of the energy roiling beneath his snarky facade drained from him. He sat back down again, and Obi-wan got the impression that he hadn’t meant to say that. In fact, Obi-wan was sure he had planned on saying nothing at all. There was so much hatred in him, mixed with pain and fear. And that was never a good combination for anyone.

“I didn’t want to be a slave anymore,” Slick began again, much quieter this time, “I didn’t want to die for a republic that saw me as nothing more than cannon fodder.”

“And there was no other reason?” Obi-wan pushed, but it seemed that Slick was done talking. He had gone back to staring listlessly at the wall. There was something almost defeated about him, and not for the first time, Obi-wan felt a sort of sympathy for the man. And he was that – a man. Not just a clone, or a traitor, but a man in a terrible position.

“You will be transferred to coruscant in the morning to be imprisoned for your crimes. Until then, I suggest you get some rest.” He said almost softly before taking his leave.

When he passed Cody and Rex in the corridor, he couldn’t meet their eyes.

That night, he dreamt of blood and death. There were younglings on the floor of the temple. They weren’t breathing. But then everything seemed to melt away and he was falling down a hole on Utapau. People were screaming all around him.

And when he plunged into the icy water beneath him, he sunk into its depths. The further he sank, the darker it became. Until he reached the corpse.

Until he reached Cody.

“You did this.” The clone said, and the sound echoed around him in the darkness.

You did this. You did this. You did this.

The morning came slowly, the seconds crawling past. After waking up multiple times in a cold sweat, Obi-wan had given up the prospect of sleep. Instead, he had gone over paperwork, familiarized himself with current events and political climates, watched the hands of the clock tick past at an agonizing pace, and brewed a very strong cup of caff.

It was still early when the transport with Slick took off.

He walked down to see them off, wish the clones safe passage and (hopefully) boost morale. After all, despite the merriment of the previous night, the clones had lost a brother. Not to death, but to something that was considered much worse by many.

The atmosphere of the camp was somber, a stark contrast to the celebrations of victory that had taken place only hours before. People were milling about as usual, flashes of white armor passing to and from tasks but stopping every now and then to steal a glance at the ship taking off.

“General?” A small voice asked, and he turned around to face Waxer. He was a ball of nervous energy, practically shaking in his boots.

“Yes waxer, what can I do for you?” The smile he bore was only slightly forced.

“Uhm, what are they going to do – I mean to say, what will happen to him? Slick I mean?”

Of course. Ever compassionate Waxer, with a heart big enough for the galaxy itself. He still remembered little Numa on Ryloth.

“He will be taken back to coruscant and imprisoned for his crimes.” He answered patiently, clapping a steadying hand on waxers shoulder. It was the only comfort he could offer.

“So they’re not going to -?”

“No Waxer, they’re not going to kill him.”

All of the nervous energy rushed out of the man at once. For a minute, Obi-wan thought he was going to collapse from sheer relief. Once more, he took a moment to admire the sense of family and community that the clones had built. He supposed that when you only had your brothers to rely on, that sense of loyalty was unavoidable.

“That’s – thank you, general.”

It was perhaps the sincerest thank you Obi-wan had ever received. He grinned; waxer grinned back. For a moment, Obi-wan was back in time in the future. Waxer and Boil were grinning sheepishly as they tried to hide a cowering Numa behind them.

“You are most welcome.”

The walls around the clones were slowly crumbling. Little by little, he would just have to prove himself to them. He would just have to prove that he saw them all as people and not canon fodder or slaves.

And maybe this time, they wouldn’t turn on him. Maybe this time they would help him.

His thoughts were cut off by Cody striding up beside him.

“General, a ship from the temple on coruscant is requesting permission to land, they’re codes check out.”

“Very well. Is it reinforcements?”

“No sir, it – well. It appears to be a child.”

A – child?

But what would a child be doing on christophsis of all places, unless…

Ahsoka.

And so it begins.

Chapter Text

"What is lost is often found." - Season 6, Episode 10

Obi-wan had forgotten. How on earth had he managed to forget?

Of course, now he was all too aware that he was about to be re-introduced to his Grandpadawan. It was kind of hard to ignore that fact when the familiar ship that contained her anxious and tightly wound force signature came into land. But he had forgotten that this was where she was first paired with Anakin, in the middle of a war zone on Christophsis of all places.

He had never found out what had happened to her after.

Sometimes he dreamt about her off in the stars, living her own life, helping the rebellion. It was easier to pretend that she had survived. He was, of course, fully aware that she was probably dead. Killed by her friends aboard the Tribunal. Sometimes, on the worst of days he would have nightmares about captain Rex holding a blaster to her head, around him the other clones would stand and watch, armor still painted with Ahsoka’s markings.

And still he was left with the crucial question of why.

The cruiser landed, sending a whoosh of air forward. The door hissed as it opened, and he watched as a pair of red boots came into view. Her feet clacked on the metal ramp as she came down it and-

Force, she was so much younger than he remembered.

Her Lekku barely reached her shoulders, their markings far less distinguished. The youthfulness in her face was unshaded by the horrors of war. The Akul teeth headdress she wore still held her padawan beads and only one lightsaber hung from her hip instead of the two he had grown used to seeing. And that impractical outfit – he had forgotten about that completely.

She looked nothing like the confident young woman he had last seen. But the foundations were there, in the determined glint in her eyes and the slant of her mouth. He had been so proud of her, for carving her own path. It was one of his biggest regrets, that he had not been able to tell her.

(I’m Sorry master, I’m not coming back)

Vaguely, he wanted to Cry. He had failed her too. The council wouldn’t listen to him, Obi-wan had tried to make them see reason, but he was powerless to stop her expulsion. Especially after he had run off to Mandalore, the council would have accused him of being too attached. They would have separated him from Anakin and-

 Your just making excuses, the voice in the back of his head whispered. And it was right. He should have done more, tried harder, consequences be damned. Ahsoka was his grandpadawan. It had been his duty to protect her.

Anakin was right to hate me.

He steeled himself as she approached, shoring up his mental shields until he was sure that none of his grief would slip through the cracks. Surely, she would not be able to sense it, being young as she was, but there was always a possibility. Even if this was some Sith trick, or even a bizarre afterlife, his grief would bring her nothing but confusion and pain. And he had caused her enough suffering for two lifetimes as it was.

“And who are you supposed to be?” Came Anakin’s questioning voice. He couldn’t help but smile slightly. It seemed somethings would never change.

“I’m Ahsoka? Master Yoda sent me.”

Force, she even sounded young. Of course, she did. If his memory served him correctly, and that was questionable after all these years, she was only fourteen. Why had they allowed her on the battlefield? Why had they all just accepted this?

“I was told to tell both of you that you must get back to the Jedi temple immediately. There’s an emergency. Master Yoda hadn’t heard from you, so he sent me to deliver the message.” She said, twisting her hands together nervously.

Ah, yes. Obi-wan remembered the mission to Teth In a vague sort of way. Compared to some of the battles that lay ahead of him, Jabba’s son hardly seemed to matter. It was all so trivial when put into perspective.

“Yes, our communications have been rather unreliable.” He told her, smiling in what he hoped was an encouraging way. Before everything changed, he had considered her as much his padawan as Anakin’s. After all, he had been the one to put in a request for a new student. And then, of course, he had failed her. Just like everyone else.

“Maybe you can relay a signal through the cruiser that just dropped me off?” She suggested and he couldn’t help the burst of pride that ran through him. Always so clever.

“That is an excellent idea young one, but first I believe we should introduce ourselves properly. I am master Obi-wan Kenobi, it is a pleasure to meet you.” He said and she smiled nervously back at him.

“I’m Ahsoka Tano, the new padawan learner, at your service.” She returned, bowing deeply. Obi-wan counted the seconds in his head as he waited for Anakin to comprehend that statement.

“Wait, wait, wait. Padawan learner?” -There we go - “You didn’t tell me you put in a request for a new padawan mast- “

“Actually,” Ahsoka cut in, “I’ve been assigned to Knight Skywalker.”

If only Obi-wan had had the sense to take a Holo. Though, he was certain he would never forget the look of mixed surprise and horror on his poor padawans face.

“What! No, no, no, no, no. There must be some mistake.”

“Master Yoda was very specific; I’m assigned to Anakin Skywalker, and he is to supervise my jedi training.”

“But that – never mind. We’ll deal with this later; we have to get that signal up and running.” Anakin said, impatience tinging his voice before he stalked off, probably to sulk somewhere private. Or to try and get that signal through the ship and give poor master Yoda an earful. It was fifty-fifty.

Ahsoka deflated as he left. He knew that feeling, oh he knew that feeling intimately. He thought of all the masters who had rejected him, thought of being shipped off to Bandomeer and the rocky start of his padawanship with Qui-Gon.

“Do not fear young one,” he consoled, “Anakin will come around, you must have patience. My Master did not want to take me originally either, but I have found that things have a way of working themselves out.”

The lie tasted like ash in his mouth, but it earned another short smile and a ‘thank you master’ from Ahsoka so he supposed he could be forgiven for it.

“So…. master Skywalker…. didn’t know he was getting me?” She asked after a moment, eyes flicking upwards to meet his and then back down again. Goodness, Ahsoka being shy was something he’d never get used to.

“I don’t believe so young one, but do not worry. I do believe the two of you will be well matched.” He said, almost cringing at the many disasters the two had gotten themselves into and out of.

 Obi-wan had never known why Yoda had paired Anakin and Ahsoka together, whether it was to teach Anakin a lesson or to sow some societal chaos. Either way, they were a good team. If only it had been enough-

“Master Kenobi, glad Ahsoka found you I am.”

It was strange seeing Yoda again. He had still been alive of course, in the end. He was one of the few Jedi who were. But still, the last time they had spoken was before Mustufar. Before he had killed his brother and watched Vader rise from his ashes.

“As am I, Master. She has had quite the trip.” He said, allowing some criticism to seep into his voice. Maybe he shouldn’t have. Before, he had obeyed the councils every word, scared that they would suddenly see how unfit he was to care for Anakin and separate them. But everything was different now. He had seen where obeying orders thoughtlessly had gotten him, and it wasn’t very far.

Yoda’s ears drooped.

Good.

Obi-wan still didn’t know what he had been thinking, sending a fourteen-year-old into an active war zone with only a few clones and a lightsaber for defense.

(He doesn’t think of himself, stranded on Melida/Daan at fourteen. No Clones to look out for him, no lightsaber for protection, no hope of winning the civil war that lay ahead of him. And yet -)

“A mission for you, we have.”

Ahsoka perked up beside him, clearly excited by the idea of a real mission instead of whatever she had been doing in the creche. Obi-wan had felt the same at her age, ready to get out and see the world.

Anakin on the other hand, was still sulking in the corner. Obi-wan had pulled him aside for a talk after what he had said to Ahsoka. Though he didn’t show it, his padawan clearly felt bad about his rejection of the girl and was now trying to subtly make nice with her whilst still showing Obi-wan how unhappy he was. It would be comical if not for how important their bond would be in the future. Obi-wan would do anything to keep them together.

Even if that meant enduring Anakin’s complaining for the years to come.

“Kidnapped, Jabba the Hutts son has been. Rescue him, you must, if a treaty with the Hutts we wish to have.”

Beside him, Anakin’s force signature flared with barely contained rage. He could feel the tendrils of darkness thrashing beneath the surface of his padawans skin and panic clawed at his throat. How had he not have noticed this before? This festering shadow.

He reached through the bond, sending a wave of calmness and peace. This time, he would not leave Anakin to fight alone.

“And do we wish to have that? A treaty with slavers?” He questioned and almost smiled when the darkness in Anakin’s presence disappeared with a flash of pleasant surprise and gratitude. He had never spoken to the council like this in front of Anakin before.

“Wish to have? No. But need, we do.” Yoda said, hitting his gimmer stick on the ground as a reprimand for Obi-wans near insubordination. He couldn’t find it in himself to be ashamed though, not when both Ahsoka and Anakin were looking at him with awe and hope. He was, however, glad Yoda wasn’t here in person. He did not want bruised shins for the rest of this mission.

“Who will be negotiating with the Hutts?” Obi-wan asked, after all, it had been him last time. It’s not that the negotiations had gone badly, but if he was on Tatooine he couldn’t protect his padawans. Both of them.

“To Tatooine Master Windu will travel. The Hutts, he will persuade. Trust him with this task I do.”

It took every ounce of his self-control to keep from laughing. Mace? Stony faced, straight to the point, brutally honest Mace Windu was going to negotiate? Well, that could go one of two ways. Obi-wan wasn’t sure if Jabba would appreciate the man’s straightforward attitude or hate him for it.

“Is there anything else we know about this kidnapping?” Anakin asked, surprising Obi-wan with his readiness to take on the mission. He had thought it would take much more convincing than that, but it seemed that even the smallest ripples could create waves.

“To Teth, travel you must. A clone force already briefed, there is.”

A wave of nostalgia hit him, taking him completely by surprise. It was all so familiar. This mission, with Anakin and Ahsoka by his side. His little siblings. The family that he had found in the middle of war. The family he had been too afraid to claim as his own. The family that he had lost in the end.

And now, he was here again. Back at the beginning. Ahsoka didn’t even know him. She wouldn’t remember how he taught her how to cheat at Sabacc, or how one time she woke up from a nightmare and came to him instead of Anakin. She wouldn’t remember going to Dex’s. Or Anakin shoving nerf burgers in his face while Obi-wan berated him on table manners. She wouldn’t remember giggling as Anakin choked on his food.

His Ahsoka was gone.

But the girl standing next to him was – something else. A possibility, a chance, a choice made in the pits of hell to try and make a difference. She was his family, his little sister. And if she didn’t have those memories yet, they would just have to make them all over again. He would just have to prove to her, and to Anakin how much he cared about them.

Once they survived this mission, that is.

“And what about her? I didn’t request a padawan learner.” Anakin asked, and Obi-wan sent him a very sharp mental nudge. He was trying to get his family back, Anakin, not get her sent back to the temple.

“The will of the force, it is. Request such guidance, we do not. Teach her, you will. Teach you, she will.” Yoda said, glaring at Anakin with all the force a green toad the size of a four-year-old could manage.

And that was that.

Ahsoka beamed up at him, an edge of mischief coloring her face and Obi-wan couldn’t help but return the sentiment.

As the Holo-call disconnected, Anakin sighed mournfully, probably grieving his life of relatively few responsibilities. Obi-wan understood that at least. He had ever had a peaceful moment after Anakin, and he lived in the Jedi temple.

“Well, looks like I’m stuck with you my padawan learner.”  He said in a barely passable imitation of Obi-wan.

“Or I’m stuck with you, Skyguy.” Ahsoka shot back, eyeing her new master doubtfully.

“Hey, don’t get snippy with me – uh – snips.” Honestly Anakin. It seemed that somethings really would never change. Stupid nicknames could stay, he supposed.

And as they filed into the airship, ready to head off into the battlefield of Teth, the familiar sound of bickering surrounded him.

“Who are you calling short? It’s not my fault you’re the size of a Wookie- “

“A Wookie!?”

“You smell like one too.”

“Hey!”

Yes, he thought. This was his family. And it seemed that even in dreams, or the afterlife, or Sith tricks or second chances, they would stay the same.

Chapter Text

"The best confidence builder is experience." - Season 1, Episode 5

Cody didn’t like new people. Scratch that. Cody didn’t like people.

Well, Rex was okay he guessed but that was about it. Maybe Waxer and Boil when they weren’t causing trouble. And he supposed Crys was okay too when he wasn’t acting like a star struck shiny.

The point being, Cody was a solitary man. A solitary and suspicious man. He had to be; hyperawareness had kept him alive so far. He had to stay vigilante. Even when the offending individual was a fourteen-year-old kid. Even when they were clearly nervous about whatever was about to go down. Even when they looked up at General Skywalker - and General Kenobi for that matter - like they were the founders of the universe.

So, because he didn’t like people, he most certainly did not tell Rex to keep an eye on the kid. He also didn’t think about how her age compared to a clone, didn’t picture a seven-year-old shiny running around in her place. Because that would be absurd. Cody was a hard man, he wasn’t compassionate. He would never go out of his way to help others and he definitely did not have a soft spot for kids.

Not at all.

But he did watch her out of the corner of his eye. Not to make sure she was doing okay, but to ensure she wasn’t doing anything suspicious. He had to prioritize their mission after all.

And because he had to prioritize the mission, when General Kenobi and General Skywalker were discussing strategies and the kid was standing around looking lost, he called her over. To make sure she didn’t distract the generals of course. There was no other reason at all. It wasn’t because he understood how it felt to not know what was expected of you, or because he sympathized with being thrust into battle at an early age.

Rex on the other hand was already starting to warm to the kid.

Ahsoka. Her name was Ahsoka Tano. He had to remember that if she was going to be a commander.

“You ever play sabacc commander?” Rex asked as she made her way over to where they were sitting.

“I’ve heard of it? But the masters at the temple don’t like it very much.” She said, wringing her hands as she took in the small huddle of clones and the deck of cards in between them. Waxer had already lost three rounds and Boil was grinning smugly with his winnings of contraband. The jedi looking down on sabacc was news to Cody as well. He had seen the Generals play together on more than one occasion.

“Sit down, we’ll deal you in. Don’t worry, you’ll pick it up pretty quick.” Waxer said, shuffling the cards in his hand and somehow managing to drop at least half of them in the process. “We’re playing the most common version, which also happens to be the easiest. God help anyone who plays Corellian spike.”

“Well, only if you don’t mind -“ She said, lowering herself to the ground.

“Not at all commander, wouldn’t have offered otherwise.” Rex said and Cody was beginning to think that he really was a softie. After all the work Cody had put in to get Rex to hide it as well, he just went around and shouted it to the world.

“So, how do we play?” She asked as she glanced curiously at the cards. It had been one hell of a job scrounging up enough credits to buy a sabacc deck at one of their stops. Trading contraband had been the sole mission of the 212^th for a solid month.

“The aim of the game is to get a hand as close to twenty-three or negative twenty-three as possible,” Rex explained, “If you get a twenty four, you blow out and lose. If you win a hand, you win the hand pot. If you win the overall match, you win the sabacc pot that accumulates over the game.” He gestured to the small pile of paper in the middle which had scribbles on them stating things like ‘Kp duty pass’ or ‘first in line for rations’. There were a few rapped sweets as well, but no-one had been willing to bet much more with the Generals on board.

“How do you know the value of a card?” Ahsoka asked, picking one up to inspect it.

“That’s the hard part. A deck of sabacc has seventy-six cards. Sixty are split into four suits Flasks, Sabers, Staves, and Coins, with fifteen cards per suit. Pip cards are numbered one through eleven, plus a Commander numbered twelve, a Mistress numbered thirteen, a Master numbered fourteen, and an Ace numbered fifteen.” He picked up a card and showed it to Ahsoka, the symbol of a coin was printed on the corner in faded ink and the number was no better. She nodded in understanding.

 “The other sixteen are two sets of eight special cards. There’s Balance numbered negative eleven, The Idiot which is zero, Endurance with negative eight, Moderation numbered negative fourteen, The Evil One with a killer negative fifteen, The Queen of Air and Darkness numbered negative two, Demise numbered negative thirteen, and The Star which can be negative seventeen or negative ten.”

Rex rattled off each one with practiced ease. They were all experts on the game, but the kid was just beginning, and she was looking more confused than ever. No, not confused, completely and utterly lost was a better fit for the expression she was currently sporting. 

“That’s – a lot.” She said, and Waxer nodded.

“You can play the first hand with me if you want, get used to the game.” He offered and Cody very nearly snorted. The clone clearly just wanted some extra help to stop him losing every other hand. Waxer was compassionate, sure, but the extra pair of eyes was surely a factor in his offer.

“Yes, I’ll do my best to help.” She said, mouth set in a grim line of determination, and moved to sit beside waxer.

Cody dealt out the hand, eyeing Waxer suspiciously as he did so.

Rumor had it that the Jedi were experts at cheating in Sabacc. Something to do with being able to read minds. Cody hoped that the kid was too young to know how to do that. He didn’t want to give Waxer the satisfaction. That Shabuir, smirking over his hand at Cody and whispering to his little sidekick. 

He looked down at his own hand and hid his frown. Well, it wasn’t a total disaster. But it was not the best either.

Skill and chance, he thought. Skill and chance. It was all that this game relied on.

“Alright kid, let’s see how you play.” He said and smiled at her indignant expression.

“I’m not a kid! I’m a commander.” She insisted in a way that was certainly not befitting of a commander.

“Whatever you say kid.”

The words were out of his mouth faster than he could think them through. He had just been insubordinate. Scenarios flashed through his head before he could stop them. Kamino. Reconditioning. Experimentation.

 Decommissioning.

 He looked at her quickly and relaxed when she only grinned at him, unoffended and unlikely to complain to the Generals about his slip.

That could have been bad.

The kid was starting to grow on him, and that was a dangerous thing for a clone. He would have to be careful. He couldn’t let his guard down. Not even around her.

Obi-wan smiled to himself as the ship came down to land. It was a rare thing for him to be this happy in the midst of war, but the sight of Ahsoka celebrating her victories in Sabacc was so wonderful that he couldn’t help the warmth that rushed through him. He wondered how good she would be once he taught her how to cheat.

Maybe he shouldn’t do that after all. For the sake of his belongings.

Speaking of belongings, Boil was looking very annoyed to be handing over the few treats that had been placed in the sabacc pot. Waxer was downright grinning. He had shared his winnings with Ahsoka, claiming he couldn’t have won without her help.

“Of course not.” She had said, radiating smug satisfaction, but he could feel her embarrassment and joy at being complimented ringing through the force all the same.

The atmosphere was shattered, however, when they exited the ship.

Clones were organizing every inch of the station, preparing for the attack on the monastery where Jabba’s son was being held. They had sent spies down who had confirmed the worst. The monastery was in an easily defensible position and was swarming with droids. The work of the separatists of course, though there was no way to prove that to the Hutt without first proving his son was inside.

There was no word on Ventress, though Obi-wan remembered her interference from his previous life. Maybe he could try to talk some sense into her again. Not that it would do much good, but he could at least try to get her out of Dooku’s manipulating hands. And Palpatine’s.

“So Master, what’s the plan?” Anakin asked, ever eager to get going.

“Funny Anakin, I was about to ask you. After all, you should be setting a good example for your new padawan.” He said, gesturing to Ahsoka who was standing slightly behind Anakin, clearly trying not to look as awkward as she felt.

Honestly, he was thanking the force for Waxer’s natural ability with kids. He seemed to be taking Ahsoka under his wing. Surprisingly, so was Rex. He had thought that it had taken some time for the two to warm to each other, but the clone captain’s steady presence at her back proved otherwise.

“Ha-ha, very funny master. If you insist, then I will happily give you my plan. Snips! Get over here, would you?” Anakin called, drawing Ahsoka into their conversation. A bit forceful in Obi-wans opinion, but at least she was being involved in the discussion.

“The monastery is positioned at the top of this cliff and swarming with droids, so I suggest we use walkers to scale the cliff, with air support to keep the droids off our backs.”

A true Anakin plan. Short, sweet, deceptively simple, and far too reckless for anyone’s good. And likely to work. But Obi-wan remembered the massacre of the 501^st at Teth, remembered the feeling of grief that lingered long after the horror of the battle had passed.

Obi-wan was ready this time, he had the foreknowledge to prevent such a massacre, and he was going to use it.

“The separatists are not going to give up the Hutt so easily. We will need reinforcements to keep our ships from being overrun, and we will need a cruiser stationed nearby for extraction. The sooner we’re off the planet with the Hutt, the better.”

“Well, it seems you have it all figured out Master.” Anakin said, smirking slightly as Obi-wan rolled his eyes and poked his shields. “I’ll handle the frontal assault; it is my specialty after all.”

Of course, Obi-wan would be there for the attack, but he had to be able to seek out Ventress if they wanted this to go well. It was her meddling that had resulted in the huge losses last time, if he could take her out of the game early doors, then maybe the 501^st would stand a chance.

And so it was that he found himself standing at the base of the cliff, side by side with his padawans. Ahsoka adjusted her grip on her lightsaber and offered a tremulous smile.

“Well master, Ahsoka, race you to the top.” Anakin said, before throwing himself onto the top of a walker with aid of the force. Ahsoka looked momentarily dumbstruck. He hadn’t even given her a warning before doing something outrageously reckless. Typical.

“Hey!” she called “No fair!” Before she too flung herself off the ground and onto the cliff side.

Well, he supposed he could give them a head start. They were going to need it after all, he wasn’t about to hold back. Not when he had some padawans to remind of their place.

Obi-wan took a deep breath, then waved to Cody through the window of the walker.

“See you at the top” He mouthed to his commander before pulling the force around him, allowing it to fill him with its presence. Then he released it all at once, catapulting himself up the cliffside. He offered a cheeky salute to Anakin as he soared past him and grabbed the walker just above.

He thought he could hear a grumble of ‘showoff’ come from beneath him, but he couldn’t be sure.

His lightsaber was a comforting weight in his hands as he deflected shots from the droids above him. The sound of engines filled his ears as the air support swooped in to pick their enemies off. He turned around to check on Ahsoka. This was her first battle in this life after all.

He caught sight of her green blade, held in a firm reverse grip as she leapt from one walker to the next. She wasn’t too far behind Anakin, but there was no possibility of her beating Obi-wan.

He reached the top, immediately coming face to face with a horde of battle droids. The air support had clearly missed a few. No matter.

“Is that the jedi?” One of them asked, “We should probably shoot him –“

The blaster bolt cut off the clanker (He was beginning to think he was spending too much time around Cody) as it shot through its head.

“Hey master, thought you could use a little help.” Came the familiar voice of his padawan. Rex and Ahsoka were on either side of him, the clone captains’ arm still raised from his shot.

“I was merely giving them time to surrender.” He told Anakin, before quickly cutting through the line of droids around them, severing the metal joints and slashing their weapons. He could take care of them on his own thank you very much.

“Come on,” Anakin said, “The huttling must be inside.”

The monastery stretched up before them, its walls of faded terracotta blotting out the sun. Anakin turned to Rex, waving him over from where he was checking the perimeter.

“Captain! Leave a few men by the door, just in case the seppies decide to send in some reinforcements.”

“Yessir!”

Obi-wan knew they would and silently motioned for three of his own men to stand guard as well. Safety in numbers. They would watch each other’s backs.

Just as they approached the archway wrought from stone and earth, a warning whispered through the force. He drew his blade and swelled with something similar to pride as his padawans did the same.

It wasn’t Ventress, no, her presence was lurking just outside of view. But it was a figure, humanoid. And –

Droid like.

Darkness clung to its presence as it approached them. It didn’t appear to be with the separatists but – the force was practically screaming at him. He wasn’t about to wait to be shot at.

His blade sliced through the droid’s head in one smooth motion. Anakin laughed.

“Eager today master?” He asked jokingly, and Obi-wan offered a wry smile back.

“It was bathed in darkness. It seems we have a little Sith friend to take care of. I would like to investigate. Com me when you find Jabba’s son.” He said, before nodding to Cody and setting off in the direction of the dark blot in the force. Ventress may have been able to hide her presence from him once, but he was all too familiar with her certain brand of darkness.

This would be a walk in the park. Hopefully.

Chapter Text

"A fallen enemy may rise again, but the reconciled one is truly vanquished." - Season 4, Episode 21

As they advanced further into the monastery, the light faded to a dim sheet of visibility. It turned the reds of the walls to sickly greys and cast an air of dampness around them that clung to her skin and clothes.

The further they went, the more tails they gained.

She had been feeling antsy for a while now and was almost certain Skyguy knew the rust buckets were there, but he wasn’t doing anything.

Ahsoka didn’t know what to think about him. She was fairly certain that jedi weren’t supposed to recklessly throw themselves headfirst into danger. She was even more sure that they weren’t supposed to encourage their padawans to do the same. But he was trusting her to be okay, and she would been. That was nice. The trust. She wasn’t a kid anymore; she could handle herself.

And master Obi-wan, he was nothing at all like she had expected. He was the Sith killer, the negotiator, one of the youngest jedi on the council, and he was – Kind. Maybe she should have anticipated that, compassion was encouraged after all, but she hadn’t.

Maybe it was because he was kind in a tired sort of way. Like he knew that people weren’t used to kindness, and it was down to him to show it to them. When he had comforted her before, he had seemed to see right through the brave façade and know exactly what to say. He hadn’t lied either. That much was clear.

A little part of her wished she had been assigned to him. Master Obi-wan seemed to like her at least, Skyguy was still making his mind up.

“Master,” She whispered urgently, “we just picked up two more.”

Her instincts were screaming at her to turn around, ignite her saber and cut those clankers into pieces (She had learned that word from Rex, Clankers) But her master didn’t even seem worried. Hadn’t even acknowledged their tagalongs.

“Master” She whispered again, and he glanced down at her this time “This is clearly a trap.”

“I know.” He said, and continued walking. “Which is why we’re going to spring it.” The incredulous look she shot him must have said enough. He smirked down at her. “Trust your master a little, would you snips?”

She glared at him in annoyance at the nickname. Her name was Ahsoka. He could at least pretend to use it.

“Because your obviously so trustworthy.” She shot back. And, okay, maybe she shouldn’t argue with her best chance at becoming a jedi knight, but he was so easy to respond to. Luckily, he didn’t shout at her, or tell her to go wait outside, he just laughed.

He really was weird.

“Go on then,” He said, “Show me what you can do.”

Finally, a chance to prove herself.

Her lightsaber turned on with a flare of green, and she turned. The guns first, her brain said as she slashed their weapons. She had watched master Obi-wan do it only a few minutes ago. Then she whirled, bringing her saber down through its head. The other three were too easy. She jumped on top of one, throwing it of balance before slashing through the others. Pity, she was just beginning to enjoy that fight.

“Not bad snips,” Came Anakin’s voice and she turned in time to see him impale a clanker in a flash of blue, “but you missed one.” His smirk was infuriating.

“I knew it was there.” She said indignantly, “I was just… letting you have some fun.”

Master Skywalker didn’t look impressed, but he beckoned her forward anyway.

Eventually, they came to a door that buzzed with a faint presence of fear and pain. The force hummed quietly. Not quite a warning, but a possibility. She brought her hand up to the stone and cast out her sense. Master Skywalker was a burning ball of brightness beside her, casting a shadow over everything else. But there, in the room, was a small pulse of something.

“Master,” she said. Anakin nodded.

“He’s here all right.”

She drew her saber up and readied herself. Whoever took the Hutt wasn’t likely to give him up without a fight. This might get messy.

The door slid open at her master’s touch, and she sprung forward into the room to find…

Nothing.

It was empty save for a bed in the far corner. She whirled back around to check behind her, only to find her master smiling slightly, laughing at her. She didn’t find it all that amusing.

“Master?” Ahsoka had been sure the Hutt was here, so why -?

“Don’t look with your eyes snips. Stretch out with your mind. What do you feel?”

Close your eyes, trust in the force. What did she feel?

 The dampness of the air. The burning star beside her. The gentle whisper of the breeze. The clones, not too far from them. The drip of water from one of the corners. The darkness in the distance. The pulse of energy under the bed.

“Beneath the bed.”

Her master smiled again, “Not bad snips. Maybe there’s hope for you after all.”

He knelt down and reached a hand under the frame. A horrid squealing sound filled the air and she winced. That had hurt her Lekku.

“Out you come you slimy skug” Skyguy said as he pulled a squirming blob from out from under it. The blob screeched and writhed and screamed. And it smelled disgusting. Judging from her master’s face, he had noticed the stench too.

“We should com master Obi-wan,” She said, but Master Skywalker wasn’t paying attention. He was busy trying to wrestle the Huttlet into a backpack.

“Master are you even listening to me?!”

“Yeah, I heard you. I’ll call Obi-wan in a sec, but I think somethings wrong with the Hutt.”

Something wrong with the Hutt? She knelt beside her master and placed a hand on the squealing blobs forehead (presumably, she wasn’t sure it had a forehead).

“You’re right, he’s burning up. We need to get him back to the ship.”

She shouldered the backpack and began towards the door, but Skyguys voice stopped her.

“You know snips, I wasn’t sure at first, but I think you just might make it as my padawan.”

Master Obi-wan was right. Everything was going to work out. She was going to be a jedi knight and serve the republic. He had said as much, but she hadn’t really believed him. She smiled, turning back to face her master. Her master. Because he really was.

“You got it skyguy.”

Catching up with Ventress wasn’t hard. The dark presence that bathed her force signature was enough of a hint on where she was hiding. It helped that she was trying to lure him into a trap as well. People were often easier to find when they were actively trying to lure you in, Obi-wan had realized.

No, the hard part was getting her to listen. He didn’t want to fight her, but he wasn’t sure how to go about convincing her to leave Dooku’s side. He knew that she wouldn’t react well to him bringing up Ky Narec, and he had already tried mother Talzin. Getting her back to the nightsisters would be the ideal outcome, but currently she hated them for abandoning her to slavery.

Slavery, now there was an idea.

It wasn’t such an alien concept to him after all. Bandomeer had taught him much, so had Zygerria. Over the course of his padawanship he had been captured and enslaved more times than he could count. After a while, he had started to believe Qui-Gon was letting it happen on purpose. Though maybe that was the last shreds of resentment talking.

And then there was his time on Tatooine.  When he had stumbled out into the desert, alone and grieving and ready to die, it was Beru Whitesun who had found him. As she led him into her house, she had placed Luke in his lap. He was so small then, so fragile. And so much like his father.

‘sit’ she had said ‘I’m going to tell you a story’.

It was a story that he had heard before, a thousand times on Badomeer and Zygerria and everything in between. It was a story of Ekkreth Skywalker and Depur, the slave and the slaver. It was a story that was told in the dark of night. It was a story spoken in tongues that the masters couldn’t understand. It was a story all slaves held close to their heart. It was a story of freedom.

Perhaps Ventress had heard it too. Perhaps she would understand that Dooku was Depur, that she had gilded her chain and called it jewelry. If he showed her that he knew, that he understood at least a little of how she felt – well.

It was worth a try. It wasn’t like he had any other ideas.

That was how he had found himself sat cross legged in a grand hall that stretched up above him. The circular windows bathed the floor in a white sheen that looked almost like moonlight, though he knew it couldn’t be past midday. Ventress’ presence hung in the shadows, waiting to make her move. It was how she did things, playing with her food before pouncing. But he wasn’t here to play games.

“I know you’re there, my dear. But I’m not here to fight.” He said and closed his eyes. The force washed over him in a calming wave as he sunk deeper into it. There was no warning. Not yet anyways. “I’m here to tell you a story.”

Her force presence flashed with annoyance, what little patience she had thinning. He could hear the creak of her shoes as she leapt down from her hiding place, landing nimbly on the floor. But not quite silently.

“I have no need for stories, my darling. Only your blood.” Ventress purred, lightsabers buzzing as they ignited in what he assumed was a dazzling display of red. Not that it was going to intimidate him. On the contrary, he functioned best under pressure. It sharpened his senses, and in most cases, his tongue. Anakin had always accused him of flirting as a panic response, which was a lie. It was a trauma response thank you very much.

He took a deep breath as she advanced.

“It happened once that Ekkreth was walking – “ He began, and felt the Sith flinch. Her presence was no longer annoyed, but angry. Furious even, darkness thrashing and writhing beneath her fragile skin, just waiting to burst free of its constraints.

“How do you know that name?!” She demanded, and the sudden swoosh of air paired with the heat hovering below his neck signaled her blade resting there.

“It is a name known to all who have faced Depur.” He said calmly. He opened his eyes then and caught hers. They were filled with a mix of fear and apprehension. “I believe we are both familiar with him.”

She held her stance a little longer, debating whether to end things here or to listen to him. Obi-wan wondered vaguely if he had just signed his death warrant before she removed her saber, bringing it back down to her side. It remained ignited, however. Small victories.

 Obi-wan stayed put, gesturing at her to sit down as well, he had made himself quite comfortable after all. The mocking laugh that burst from her throat was enough of an indication of her thoughts on lowering herself to his level at him. She shifted into a tightly sprung pose, ready to strike should she need to. Her loss, he was only trying to be polite.

“Tell me how you know that name Jedi or die.”

“I know it the same way you do. After all, it was Ekkreth who freed me from my chains, though it seems you have not quite been freed from yours yet.” He said carefully. Not quite carefully enough it seemed, Ventress snarled at him. The force was no longer calm but bubbling with anxiety.

“I am free! The Sith gave me freedom!” she screamed; the red blade soared towards him. He called the sense of worry-danger-hush to his hand and pushed.  The Sith flew backwards. Ventress looked briefly put out, then crouched low to the ground, readying to strike again, but there was doubt in her face. After all these years, she really was all too easy to read.

“The Sith gave you servitude. Dooku is Depur. You must realize this.” He insisted.

“You’re lying.” She bit out and propelled herself forward once more. He took a step to the side and let her shoot past him.

Honestly. The force was practically ringing with the truth of his words. Surely, she could feel it. Denial was clouding her vision, allowing the darkness to convince her of her freedom.

“I’m not. Search your feelings, you know it is true.”

She growled in frustration, lunging towards him again. The force rang out in a deafening cacophony of noise - 

And then she stopped.

Two seconds, three seconds. She stood unblinking, unmoving. The anger and fear that tinged her presence said more than any words could. She knew he was right. The force had shown her truth.

“Free yourself Ventress,” he said, not unkindly “go back to Dathomir, travel the galaxy, free more slaves, I don’t care. No one will follow you; I promise.”

Perhaps it was a silly promise to make. He wasn’t sure if he would be able to keep it, but he would certainly try his best. He could hold off the council, if she stepped out of the war and lived a quiet life. That was rather unlikely, however. It was Ventress he was talking about.

“Why? You’re a Jedi. You kill people like me. Why would you let me go?” There was suspicion clinging to every word. It seemed strange to think that this may be the first kind thing anyone had done for her in decades. It was no wonder she doubted his honesty.

“Everyone deserves a second chance, Ventress. Even you.”

At that moment, his Com lit up. He kept eye contact with Ventress as he answered it.

“Obi-wan? We found the Hutt. But he’s sick. We need to get him back to the ship ASAP.” Came Anakin’s voice, tinged with the mechanical grit of the Com.

“Alright, I’ve dealt with our little Sith problem, Ventress has been taken care of. I’ll meet you at the ship in ten.” He said, cataloguing Ventress’ disbelieving expression. He knew that she wasn’t used to people wanting to genuinely help her. The way she floundered was almost funny.

“Go, Ventress. Somewhere Dooku can’t find you.” He said, before turning to leave.

“Dooku deserves to pay for enslaving me.” She said, as though testing Obi-wan’s willingness to let her go.

“Then make him,” He said with a shrug, “I told you, no one is going to follow you. You’re a free woman Ventress.”

And with that he walked away, leaving her standing in the halls of the monastery. He took it as a victory that she didn’t try to stab him in the back as he left. Whether she took his advice however, he wouldn’t know. But for her sake, and for his, he hoped it. He truly hoped it.

He cast his sense out around him, easily locating Anakin and Ahsoka as they made their way towards the ship. The clones were there as well, fighting off what remained of the droids. He counted the number of ripples in the force. How many had he saved? How many of them had he managed to rescue from Ventress’ grasp?

Two, eight, twenty. Not enough.

There were casualties, four of Anakin’s men would be added to remembrances. Six of Obi-wans would have their names etched into his armor. A tradition he wanted to start, and to keep.

He had tried, but it wasn’t enough. It was never enough. He had to do more.

But he cast those thoughts from his mind, he had two troublesome Padawan’s to meet up with.

Chapter Text

"You hold onto friends by keeping your heart a little softer than your head." - Season 1, Episode 7

Against all odds, the ship was still very much intact when Obi-wan reached it. He had half expected to find a blazing pile of metal and debris with Anakin and Ahsoka smiling guiltily up at him as they explained how it was necessary to blow it sky high in order to stop Ventress from escaping.

There were no fires, however, only the remains of droids and the grief twinged presence of those around him.

“Hey master! Look who we found.” Anakin called, practically bouncing over to him as he waved in the general direction of captain Rex who was holding what appeared to be a brown blob stuffed inside a backpack.

The Hutt.

Now for the hard part, delivering him to Tatooine unharmed. Though maybe – maybe this time it wouldn’t be. Hard, that is. Ventress was no longer pursuing them for one, and Mace was still stationed on Tatooine. If Dooku showed his face, Obi-wan had full faith in his friend to deal with the Sith.

“I see your mission has been successful, my padawan.”

Anakin frowned slightly in thought, before smiling again and rubbing the back of his head.

“Yeah well, couldn’t have done it without my padawan.”

Ahsoka lit up with a mix of embarrassment-hope-joy and Obi-wan almost laughed in amusement laced with love and a bone deep relief. Anakin had accepted her as a padawan. They were going to be a family again. Whatever had happened to push them together, he would be eternally grateful.

Anakin was still flushing slightly, sending vague impressions of fondness, exasperation and an almost endearing awkwardness down the bond.

You were right. He seemed to say, and Obi-wan reveled in the victory. Ventress was unlikely to cause more problems, he saved most of the 501st, and he had his family. A victory indeed. 

As they boarded the ship, Ahsoka slowed to walk beside him. She seemed less anxious now, more like the confident, hardheaded young woman he had known. God, how he missed her. It was strange to grieve someone who was standing right beside you. She caught his eye and smiled slightly, then mouthed a thank you. For his advice, he assumed. He winked mischievously back at her, knowing the havoc she was likely to wreak on his poor padawan. A shame, but a necessary one.

“Hey master, are we the ones who’ll take the Hutt back?” Anakin called from up ahead. At first, Obi-wan assumed the question came because Mace was already there. But his padawans cheery delivery did nothing to mask the anxiousness and fear in his presence.

Obi-wan didn’t need the force, however, to know that Anakin Skywalker did not want to go back to Tatooine. There were too many bad memories, too much pain.

Slavery.

His mother.

The sand people.

Obi-wan had learned on Tatooine about that little piece of information. How his padawan had slaughtered an entire family. An entire people out of hate and revenge. It was too late to change that now, but he could help Anakin. whatever he needed, Obi-wan would give.

And that was the dilemma, wasn’t it? Did Obi-wan prioritize the mission or his padawan? Did he go to Tatooine to ensure the safe delivery of the Hutt, or did he head back to coruscant and keep his Padawan safe?

He had never put a mission before Anakin’s life, but he had put it before his wellbeing. Time and time again. Even after all these years, the guilt of Rako Hardeen ate him alive.

Decisions were not easy to make in times of war, Obi-wan knew, but that had been a bad one.

“I do believe,” He began, “that the Clones are more than capable of seeing the Hutt safely home. Master Windu will meet them on planet, and we will head back to the temple.”

Decisions were hard to make, especially in times of war, but his decision would always be his family. Before the council, before the mission, before him.

Yoda would not be pleased with him, and Ki-Adi-Mundi would kick up a fuss. No matter, Obi-wan was already imagining the approving smile Plo was bound to give him when he found out. Depa would find the situation amusing as well, he was sure. Though she was Mace’s padawan, he had never seemed to stamp out her sense of mischief. Pity.

Anakin smiled at him, and Ahsoka let out a little whoop.

“Hey Skyguy, do I get to move into the padawan dorms?” She asked and Anakin sighed long-sufferingly.

“Unfortunately, yes. You better not keep me up Snips or be anything like I was at your age.” Anakin said and shuddered slightly, probably remembering all the trouble he had caused at the temple. They never had managed to get the glitter fully out of the training matts.

Every master told the same thing to their padawan. Obi-wan was no exception. May you have a student just like you. The poor boy had seen it as a complement back then, though he was certainly re-thinking that now.

“When we arrive, neither of you will be going back to the temple.” He said as sternly as he could, holding back laughter as the two turned to face him, looking completely put out. “You will instead report to Dex’s diner for a ceremonial meal – “

“Oh hell yeah!” His padawan yelled, smiling wildly. Obi-wan sent a wave of admonishment down the bond for the interruption, just for good measure. Though he couldn’t quite get rid of the twinge of love that colored it.

“Dex’s diner?” Ahsoka asked uncertainly and Anakin put his hand to his chest in a mock heart attack, face contorted in pain and betrayal.

“You’ve never been?” he asked and gasped when Ahsoka shook her head “You’re missing out big time. Best food in coruscant.”

She grumbled something under her breath, but seemed to accept this statement

Laughing at their antics, Obi-wan herded them into the command room. Honestly, they would never get home if they kept this up.

“It is tradition for new masters to take their padawans for dinner.” He explained to Ahsoka. Anakin was nodding vigorously in the corner and for a minute Obi-wan was vaguely worried his head would fall off if he nodded any harder.

He had taken Anakin after Naboo. Had watched the child shove food in his mouth like a starved animal. Back then, he probably was. The life of a slave was not an easy one.

Qui-Gon had taken him once. Just the once. After Bandomeer.

He hadn’t spoken, only sat and eaten, staring into space. He told Obi-wan that they should go again some time, but then Melida/Daan happened, and everything fell apart. He knew Qui-Gon blamed him for Tahl and after that disaster he rarely spoke more than a sentence to him. It had taken years to patch up the hole that the civil war had left. Obi-wan had never quite managed it.

Not that it mattered. He had snuck off to Dex’s place a fair few times. On his own, or with Quinlan. Sometimes he could even drag Bant away from her studying. It was a rare thing, but like himself she would do anything for a meal from Dex. He really did have the best food in all Coruscant.

“Cody,” He called, “Send a squad to Tatooine with the Hutt, General Windu will meet them there.”

“Yessir!”

“Oh and Cody, we are heading back to coruscant, tell the men they will be receiving a much deserved break.”

“…Yes sir.” The clone turned to leave.

“Cody,” His dear commander stopped, “That goes for you too.” He said meaningfully, and Cody snapped a salute before taking his leave. Whether he would take a break or not, who knew. Obi-wan knew his commander far too well to believe he would accept the time off.

Well, no going back now. The council could suck a lime, Obi-wan was going home.

He wasn’t sure if he was ready to see the temple. All those force presences, all that life that had been snuffed out so long ago. And yet…

None of it had happened yet. There would be no blood on the walls, no bodies on the floor, no smoke rising from the roof, and no Imperials.

The ship jumped to hyperspace, and Obi-wan took a breath.

Yes, he was going home.

The Jedi temple was something that Cody had never seen before. He had heard rumors of course; it was impossible not to with two million nosy clones for brothers. They said it radiated peace, a pulse of warmth that filled you with hope. They said it held a room with over a thousand fountains, each one flowing crystal-clear water. They said it was like a dream, all light colors and laughing padawans and growing plants.

What they hadn’t said, was how much it meant to the jedi.

Cody had spent the journey back to coruscant listening to Kenobi answer the many questions that Cry’s and the others had about what the temple was like. They were getting time off and it was abundantly clear that the temple was on half of the battalions to do list. 79's was a close second.

The point being, Kenobi had spoken about the temple in the same way that a clone speaks about his brothers. With love and amusement and a deep yearning. The man missed his home in a way that was almost indescribable.  

Cody could understand. He had spent his whole life with the other CC’s. Running drills with Gree and Wolffe, swapping strategies with Bly and Fox, making fun of Stone, and doing his utmost best to avoid Bacara. Even back then he was a sadistic Shabuir.

Now, they were scattered across the galaxy. Whether he would ever see them again, Cody didn’t know. And though he would deny it to his dying breath, he missed them. They were his batchmates, his Vod. It was impossible not to.

Which was why he had asked the question. He hadn’t meant to ask it really, it just kind of fell out of his mouth. He could curse himself for the mistake later, think about how stupid he had been to draw attention to himself, but currently he was too focused on the expression on his General’s face.

‘How long has it been since you last saw it?’ he had asked, completely unintentionally. He knew that it couldn’t have been more than a few months, the war had just started. Sure, he could have been on a separate mission, but jedi always returned to the temple. Always. It wasn’t as though Kenobi was a shadow either who went on long missions. It was only reasonable to assume he returned to the temple every few months.

Kenobi’s reaction said otherwise. His eyes glazed over, a far away look entering them as though he was lost in deep thought. He looked – wistful. Almost grief-stricken. There was no other way to describe it. It took a moment for the man to come back to himself.

When he did, he spoke two words. Only two before he left.

“Too long.” He said, then he smiled in the way that he tended to do. Not a proper smile, it wasn’t happy. All of his smiles seemed to be tinged with an edge of sadness.

He had obviously said something wrong to have upset his General in such a way. He had considered apologizing, tracking the man down to assure him he meant nothing by it. Something told him, however, that Kenobi needed to be alone.

So Cody had let it go, letting the General leave to ‘finish some paperwork’. Speaking of paperwork, Cody had some to finish too. The life of a clone commander was a busy one.

Which brought him onto his next thought. Cody was being given a break. He – didn’t know what to do about that. His men deserved the time to rest of course, but Cody was the only one holding the operation together. He couldn’t take time off.

But his General had practically ordered him. An order from his General was as good as law, especially after Cody had put his damn foot in his mouth and upset the man.  Maybe some time off wouldn’t be so bad. 79’s was especially appealing, and if he was being honest with himself, he was just a little bit interested in seeing the jedi temple. Just a little bit.

It was important to his General, which meant Cody had a duty to protect it. Understanding the temple might help him understand Kenobi as well, though Cody was beginning to think he was a mystery that would never be solved. No Nat-born that he had met had ever acted like the General. Although it was vaguely off-putting, it was nice. Being treated like a person.

He knew better than to get too comfortable though, he was still a clone. No amount of belief would change how expendable he was. No amount of care would change his legal status, which amounted to nothing. He had checked. Apparently ‘sentient’ was too much of a stretch for the republic.

It was easier for them to pretend that their slaves weren’t actually conscious, he supposed. The guilt would be easier to swallow if their government assured them that the Vode liked being slaves.

Where Kenobi stood on that matter, he still wasn’t sure. He wanted to trust the man. After Christophsis when he had spared Slick, after Teth when he had placed a hand on Waxer’s shaking shoulder, the clone bent double over a dead brother, and apologized.

After he had walked out into command with Six names etched into his pauldron in tiny, neat writing. The war dead from Teth. Cody’s Vod who were marching far away.

That act had almost convinced him, but Kenobi was a Nat born. He had been the one to find the Vode. Cody remembered. Oh yes, he remembered.

He had looked up from his meal to see a figure standing over them, wet hair that glimmered like fire and blue eyes that locked onto his own. The first time he saw a jedi. The first time he saw his General.

Not that Kenobi knew it, he probably didn’t even remember. It had left quite the impression on Cody, however. An impression that he couldn’t quite shake. It wasn’t a bad one, just unfamiliar.

But it meant he couldn’t quite trust his general, for one reason or another.

Not yet anyways.

In time. Perhaps in time…

“Kenobi!” Dex’s familiar voice called over the Holodrama playing in the background. Some forbidden love story about a jedi falling in love with a Mandalorian, if Obi-wan was remembering Correctly. Quinlan had sometimes snuck them into the creche. They had all sat together under a thick blanket and laughed at the bad acting and unrealistic writing.

The Besalisk lumbered over and wrapped all four arms around him in a bone crushing hug. Not that Obi-wan minded, he hadn’t seen the man in far too long and squeezed back just as tightly.

After the temple fell, Obi-wan knew Dex had helped smuggle people out of coruscant. People who the empire would have imprisoned or murdered. Jedi sympathizers and critics of Palpatine who had stood up against the atrocities of the imperials. Innocents who were tired of war and violence.

Though he had a past filled with crime, his friend was a good man. Dex would always have Obi-wans gratitude for his efforts, whether he knew it or not.

“It’s good to see you, my friend. You remember Anakin?” He asked, gesturing behind him to where his former padawan was teasing Ahsoka. Behind the two, stood a pair of very awkward looking clones.

It was Ahsoka’s brilliant idea to invite Rex and Waxer to Dex’s, and who was Obi-wan to spoil her fun? They deserved some good food as well; anything was better than rations.

“Little Ani? You’ve certainly sprouted up.” Dex said, shaking hands with the boy and measuring his height against his own. Then he turned his gaze to Ahsoka. “And who might you be little lady?”

“I’m padawan Tano.” She said, craning her neck to look the man in the eyes. It made for a comical image, the big scary besalisk (Who was really a big softie) and the defiant togruta.

Rex shifted slightly, hand inching for his blaster. The man was already so protective, and so wary of others.

“This,” Obi-wan cut in before someone ended up getting shot, “Is my grand padawan.”

Dex took a moment to register, glancing between the two kids who had now begun to poke each other in the arm as hard as they could. He broke out into a grin, blindingly bright and big enough to fill his whole face. A heavy hand landed on his shoulder.

“A grand padawan? Why didn’t you say sooner?” His friend bellowed, laughing happily in disbelief, “Order anything you want, on the house!”

Obi-wan spluttered. Surely the man knew Anakin’s stomach was a bottomless pit, and Ahsoka really wasn’t much better.

“Dex, that’s too much – “

“My favorite customer and the high general of our army deserves a free meal once in a while. Find yourself a table, I’ll send Hermione over to take your order.”

And that was that.

Obi-wan was ushered into a booth by two chattering padawans, both pouring over the menu and arguing over what to order. The table was sticky from the drinks and plates of customers, coming and going. Checked patterns ran up and down the floor, and the red stools were worn and fading. It was achingly familiar.

The two clones took a bit of convincing, but they soon shuffled into the booth and pulled off their helmets. The two looked around, completely put out but curious. It was evident neither of them had ever visited an establishment like Dex’s before. Or any establishment for that matter.

“Hey Obi-wan,” Anakin suddenly called “If the meal is free, can we get whatever we want? Like whatever we want?”

Obi-wan sighed. Poor Dex was not going to know what hit him.

“That is the idea Anakin, but please try not to bankrupt my friend. It would be such a shame for the diner to go out of business.”

His padawan mock saluted, before turning to Ahsoka and giving her a detailed description of every item of food imaginable.

I’m going to spoil them rotten, Obi-wan thought, and they deserve it.

He turned to the two clones who had now begun to shift awkwardly and seemed unsure of whether or not to pick up a menu.

“That goes for you two gentlemen as well. Whatever you want, Dex will sort you out.” He passed them a menu and pointed to the options, “I personally recommend the ‘interstellar garden salad’ though Anakin is partial to a ‘Giju slider’ considering his stomach is the size of a Sarlacc.”

Rex took the menu hesitantly, sneaking glances at the options and at the two children discussing whether they would be allowed a photon fizzle (to which the answer was no, Obi-wan did not want to deal with two drunk padawans tonight thank you very much). Waxer snatched it out of his hands and began chatting loudly to Ahsoka about what exactly a nerfburger was.

Rex looked momentarily bewildered, before tentatively asking if fried Endorian chicken tasted anything like the rations that were supposed to be chicken flavored. Supposed to because they were no more appetizing than wet cardboard.

The look of absolute shock and betrayal on Ahsoka’s face was worth the galaxy itself.

Yes, this was his family. Clones and all. He would keep it safe.

Rex didn’t know what he was doing. On the plate in front of him was a ‘spicy Gargon gumbo’, the cheapest thing he could find on the menu. His knife and fork lay untouched, the same as his food. Across from him, Commander Tano and General Skywalker were tucking into the mountains of meat they had piled on their plates.

This had to be a test. Or a trick of some sort. Rex was a clone. He wasn’t permitted to eat nat-born food, it would be wasted on him.

But General Kenobi kept sending him encouraging looks, and Waxer was already half-way through his portion of a Zeltros slider. It had cost five credits more than Rex’s meal. The Generals didn’t seem to care.

Not for the first time, Rex wished Cody was here. He would know what to do, he would give Rex orders that he could understand. But Cody was away at the temple. He was going over paperwork and strategies and fulfilling his duties as a commander.

Rex was sitting in a diner on coruscant with a plate of steaming food in front of him and no fucking clue what he was supposed to be doing.

“Hey Rex, you gonna eat that?” Waxer asked, and suddenly four pairs of eyes locked onto him. He grit his teeth and tried not to smack the di’kut in the head.

Now there was no way to avoid eating, no matter how much his instincts were screaming at him not to.

The bowl of liquid was supposedly some kind of soup, mixed with one meat or another. Rex wasn't sure, he hadn't looked to closely at the meals. only the prices. It smelled amazing though, looked even better. It was a vibrant red color and came with a few ornamental leaves sticking up from it.

He picked up the spoon and took a sip of his meal.

God fucking dammit.

It was the best thing he had ever tasted. Even better than those little sweets Boil had stolen from a poor vendor. And he knew he couldn’t eat any more of it.  Not with Kenobi looking right at him. If this was a test, he had failed.

They would send him back to Kamino and –

(The lights are flashing, and he can’t see. Why can’t he see? Where are his brothers where -?)

He couldn’t go back. Not to reconditioning.

So, he put the spoon back down and tried not to cry. It was almost worse, knowing how damn good it tasted. He looked at General Kenobi, hoping he would approve. He had passed right? He had done what he was supposed to, followed orders while wasting the minimum resources he could.

The General didn’t look pleased, he looked worried.

“Is it not to your tastes my dear captain? You can order something else if you don’t like it.”

“No sir, its fine sir.”

Kenobi frowned.

“Rex, you can have as much as you like. This food is on the house, no one will be paying for it. As your high General, I order you to eat as much as you want to, and to order whatever you like.”

General Skywalker waved a hand in Kenobi’s face.

“Yeah! Come try some of mine if you want.” He said through a mouthful of food. Commander Tano sniffed daintily.

“Master, you’re making a mess.”

Rex picked up the spoon again and took another mouthful. Kenobi didn’t shout, he smiled. Then he went back to his own food and struck up a conversation with Waxer.

Strange.

The Jedi were nothing like the Kaminoans, or any nat-born he had met. They didn’t care if he wasted food or stretched mission parameters. Hell, he had watched Commander Tano do nothing when Cody had been straight up insubordinate.

He would have to learn their rules. A new set that he didn’t know.

Maybe that wasn’t a bad thing. New wasn’t always awful.

Commander Tano pushed one of her Chili’s onto his plate, claiming she hated them. He had watched her eat six at once not five minutes ago.

Perhaps he could get used to the new rules, and his new Generals. If they kept acting like this, it wouldn’t be a hard thing to do.

That was both an encouraging thought, and a terrifying one.

Chapter Text

"Fear not for the future, weep not for the past." - Season 2, Episode 13

When everyone had eaten their fill at Dex’s, Obi-wan patted his friend on the shoulder (Receiving a four-armed hug in return) and left for the temple with his padawans in tow. A fact that he was currently doing his best to ignore. He couldn’t think about the temple. Not now.

Rex and Waxer had already gone to the clone barracks on coruscant and were likely getting organized to visit 79's. Before they reached their destination however, Obi-wan had pulled the two clones aside to give them his personal Com in case they were ever in trouble. Hopefully they would pass it on to the rest of the 212^{t h} for if they ever needed his assistance, the 501^st as well in Rex’s case. Hopefully.

The two had seemed hesitant, but Waxer’s easy trust and devotion to his brothers seemed to win out, and he took the com without question.

Speaking of clones and trouble, there was another issue he had to deal with. One that had been swirling around in the back of his head for some time now. Obi-wan needed to get in touch with Senator Amidala. Padme.

He had put some thought into it, running over all the possible ways he could go about pushing for clone rights, and every road led to her. The people of Naboo were know for their subtlety and intelligence. They were not a violent people, but when it came to such a thing, secrecy was their ally. The doubles of their queens, the poisons that they kept guarded, and their ruthless education system ensured such a thing.

It was what made Padme such a good queen and politician, and what made Palpatine such a dangerous enemy.

If there was anyone he trusted to begin drafting a clone rights bill, it was her and Bail. Senator Organa was at least easy to get in contact with, they had each other’s coms for when nights required some company and Alcohol. Even so early on, they had always gotten along. Obi-wan briefly wondered if he would be invited to his and Breha’s wedding again, it really had been a lot of fun last time – despite the fact that he couldn’t remember most of it in the morning.

Padme on the other hand, well. The easiest way to talk to her was through –

Anakin. It was through Anakin.

That opened another can of worms. Every time Obi-wan had tried to start a conversation about Padme with Anakin in his past life, he had been shut down immediately. It was clear that Anakin thought Obi-wan would not approve of their attachment to each other. He was right. At first, Obi-wan had been terrified of the implications that such a relationship could cause. It seemed as though he had a right to be after –

After Vader.

But now he could see things from a different perspective.

Padme was a source of light in Anakin’s life. She kept him grounded, she was why he had stayed light as long as he did. It just wasn’t enough. If he gave them the support they both craved, maybe it would encourage them to be more open with each other, and with him. He had to try. Even though it had taken a while, he had been friends with Padme in his last life as well. How could he not be close to someone who held such love for his brother?

So, as the hovercar slowed down to the temple gates, Obi-wan ignored the feeling of raw agony that swelled in his gut at the sight of it, and pulled Anakin aside, ushering Ahsoka back to her room.

“Master? What is it?”

Obi-wan took a breath. How did he go about this? Nothing he had tried before had worked, so why would it now? What difference would it make? But he knew he had to do this. For his own sake, and for Anakin’s.

“I am going to say something, and I want you to listen to all of what I have to say before you answer.” He began and Anakin nodded dumbly at his serious tone.

“I know about you and Padme.”

Fear flared in his padawans presence and Obi-wan knew he was about to open his mouth in defense, so pushed adamantly on.

“I’ve known for a while now, and at first I was skeptical. You love her though, Anakin, and I love you. I want you to be happy, and if that means being with Padme, then so be it. I’m not going to tell the council, but I strongly suggest you come up with a plan to do so after the war. You cannot keep this a secret forever. I just want you to know that I will support any decision you choose to make. You’re my family Anakin, I am not going to betray you.”

A breath rushed out of his mouth. Anakin was staring at him, eyes wide and unsure. Shock radiated from his body like sparks of electricity.

“Are you- is this – you’re serious?”

Obi-wan smiled, as warmly as he could, though slightly worried for what his padawans reaction may be.

“Of course I am – oh” He was suddenly holding an armful of Anakin. For a moment, he was unsure of what to do. It had been so long since he had last been this physical with him. With anyone really. Of course, when Anakin was still a boy, Obi-wan did what he could to comfort him, but he had never experienced that with Qui-Gon. It was Quinlan who had finally taught him how to be intimate with people – in a platonic way, obviously.

And then there was Tatooine. He had been alone. He didn’t know how long exactly, but there had not been many affectionate touches on that dust planet.

So, he wrapped his arms around the boy and held on tight. Distance shrank between them until there was only the calm hum of the force and Anakin’s hiccupping breathes. Obi-wan most certainly was not crying. He was above such things.

Seconds turned into minutes, and still they clutched onto each other like a lifeline.

“You know Anakin, you could have at least invited me to the wedding.” He teased, rubbing circles into the boys back as he laughed wetly, then mumbled something that was muffled by the robe between them.

Obi-wan pulled back slightly, trying to make sure Anakin could still breathe.

“Thank you master.” Was his simple statement, and Obi-wan pulled him back into a tight embrace, which Anakin quickly fought his way out of, smirking playfully through watery eyes.

“Careful master, too many hugs can be bad for you.”

“Of course, how could I forget.” There was a pause, not awkward, but comfortable. “I need to talk to Padme at some point,” He continued, “but it can wait. For now, I do believe we have both had quite the day. “

Anakin grinned, red rimmed eyes suddenly looking bright, and tired. “Yeah, I better go check Snips hasn’t wrecked the place.”

They walked together to the rooms, and Obi-wans chest felt lighter than ever.

One conversation. That was all it had taken. A conversation and unconditional love. Why hadn’t he given Anakin that before? Was he truly so afraid of the council that he would do such a thing?

Not this time. I’ll be better this time.

When Obi-wan arrived at his room in the temple, he collapsed to the floor. He vaguely felt the ache in his knees where he landed, though he couldn’t find it in himself to care. All that he could do was try to block out the echo’s of screaming younglings that resonated through the force. It seemed not even time was able to rewind the horror that tangled the balance in knots.

It was too much. All of it.

(there’s blood on the walls. He can smell burning flesh)

The walls were not charred, however. The roof was not caved in, and the floors were not smeared with the remains of innocents that his padawan cut down.

Instead, a bookshelf lay in the corner with various tomes Obi-wan had checked out from Madam Nu so long ago and yet so recently in this life. His bed was made with only a few wrinkles in the corners, and his desk was a mess of paperwork and strategies.

(There is nothing left of what he once knew. There is only blood and death and pain)

(His padawan is gone)

He didn’t know how long he sat there, hands over his ears, trying to block out the screaming of the dead that had not met their fate yet. Who would not meet their fate if he could do anything about it – and he could. He would.

Maybe only seconds passed, or perhaps it was hours, or even days. He didn’t know. But slowly, ever so slowly the calming whisper of the force brought his mind back to his body.

Eventually, he found the strength to stand.

His feet moved him to his desk, and he shoved he amalgamation of papers out of the way to find a pen and a spare sheet. And then he wrote.

With all the fever of a dying man, sick with an unknown disease, Obi-wan wrote down all the major events he could remember, then highlighted all the ones he had to stop. Umbara, Rako Hardeen, Ryloth, the genocide of his people and the rise of the empire.

Oh force, there was so much. How could he stop all of this? He was one man, one selfish man who hadn’t even managed to die properly.

He didn’t stop writing.

Panic later, he told himself. Obi-wan had fought multiple wars, survived tortures beyond most people’s imagination, and faced his down his own brother in the pits of Mustafar – he was a master at compartmentalization.

He was also a master at deceiving himself.

A timeline emerged, and then possible differences he had made to it. Would his chat with Ventress mean that the invasion of Kamino wouldn’t happen? Or would it simply be carried out by a different apprentice? He had to assume the worst, had to plan for every possible situation.

He ran a hand through his hair. It was going to be a long night.

After some time (was it minutes or months? Seconds or decades?) a list of enemies that would have to be taken care of stared up at him. Not every enemy he made of course, there were far too many of those. A list of Sith would be a more accurate description.

Dooku. Palpatine. Ventress. Maul. Savage.

He looked back over the list, then hesitantly scribbled out Ventress. Maybe it was too hopeful, or just blindingly naive, but he didn’t think he would meet her again as an enemy. A grudging acquaintance perhaps, but not an enemy.

Then, on a separate piece of paper, he wrote only one word.

Clones.

They were at the heart of everything. It was their betrayal that had allowed the empire to rise and the republic to fall.

And it made no damn sense.

The clones were loyal, they were compassionate and kind people. The republic had enslaved them, but Obi-wan knew that there had been a fight for clone rights in the making. He had been part of it after all, but it came too late.

Cody shot him in the back. Quite literally. With a canon.

This time he would do better by them. Maybe he could prove his worth to them, show Cody that he would do anything for him and his brothers.

(Jedi don’t get attached. Obi-wan has never been a particularly good jedi)

He took the com code he got from Anakin and placed it on the desk.

Padme would help him. He knew she would. Bail as well. They were good people; he just had to give them a little push in the right direction.

So, he drafted a letter. And then a bill.

The time on his holoclock ticked past at an alarming rate, but still he wrote. Coruscant slept around him as he worked, lights blinking lazily. For a minute, things were calm. It had been years since he had last stayed up so late, holopad in hand as he researched the intricacies of proving species to be sentient and the loopholes in government laws.

At three in the morning, he sent the rough draft to the two esteemed senators. With Padme’s he sent an apology for the lateness of his message. With Bails he sent a rather pointed note about his (still secret) relationship with a certain queen of Alderaan.

Force, he hoped they would listen. Surely they had to listen.

He pulled the list of Sith back out and ran his eyes over it. Again, and again, and again.

There was one place they all converged. One place they had all visited at some point during the war. He realized it with a start, and immediately pulled up a map of the system.

If he went there, if he braved the storm he would likely be walking straight into –

He may be able to bargain the help of someone who would know more about his time situation. She was older than he would ever know after all, and privy to information he knew nothing of. Mother Talzin always was a bit of a mystery to him.

Dathomir. He had to go to Dathomir

Master Yoda found him outside his quarters in the early hours of the morning.

The sun had just begun to rise over the great windows, sending beams of pure light onto the floor in geometric patterns. The plants that grew in the corridors seemed to reach out towards it, trying to gulp the brightness that had appeared. Obi-wan had watched the sunrise from his room. Oranges melting into pinks and blues. It was the most beautiful thing he had seen in a long time.

Now, he stood outside his great-grandmasters door, waiting for him to appear.

Obi-wan had planned it all out, everything he was going to say. Master Yoda would understand the benefits of sending him to Dathomir once he had explained his reasoning. It was only logical of course, in terms of the war. Except for the fact that it wasn’t, but Obi-wan reckoned he could sway the troll if he tried hard enough.

And then said troll had walked out of his rooms, gimmer stick tapping off the ground in an uneven rhythm.

“Master Obi-wan, early it is.” Came the croaked voice, speech so familiarly muddled.

The thoughts that had bubbled round in his head reduced to nothingness. “Is this real?” Was the first thing out of his mouth. How could he ask anything else? No matter how hard he had tried to ignore the question that snagged in the back of his mind, he couldn’t manage it.

Thwack.

The gimmer stick connected with his shin. Though he would later deny it, Obi-wan let out a rather pathetic screech as he pulled his poor leg up and out of the way.

“Real that felt? Hmmm? Real this is.” Yoda declared, banging the stick on the ground for emphasis.

Yes, that had felt real. He had been in this reality for far too long for it to be anything else. This was real. He was back in time, reliving the clone wars.

He could save everyone.

Or destroy things so thoroughly there would be no going back.

“Master Yoda, it is the will of the force that I go to Dathomir.”

Not what he had intended to say, but the force whispered encouragingly in his ear. Master Yoda pinched his brows together, pulling his ‘I’m old and wizened and smarter than you’ face.

“Dathomir hmm? The will of the force, a jedi must follow. To Dathomir you will go. Commander Cody, you will bring. Protection and aid is needed when dealing with the nightsisters you are.”

“Cody? But – “

“The will of the force, this is. Heed it, you must.” The green gremlin interrupted in a fashion unbefitting of a jedi master, then nodded sagely and hobbled off. Obi-wan was left standing speechless in the corridors of a memory.

Well then, it seemed he was off to Dathomir. He would have to say goodbye to his padawans and pack his things.

And find Cody.

Dathomir was waiting for him, and he had a feeling he was not going to like what he found there.

Chapter Text

"To seek something is to believe in its possibility." - Season 5, Episode 3

Anakin, in true Anakin fashion, had begged to accompany Obi-wan to Dathomir. Ahsoka too, though she at least seemed to accept how dangerous the mission would be and how much both herself and Anakin were needed in the war effort. Whilst her master sulked like the moody teenager he was, she only nodded grimly at his explanation and left the issue to lie. Her displeasure echoed through the bond he had begun to form with her, but her determination and resolve was stronger.

That being said, Obi-wan ended up leaving two very grumpy padawans behind with a heartfelt apology and a promise to com them regularly. He also left them a packet of sweets each and a training schedule so they could work on their coordination as a pair, but he thought of those as secondary items. Whether they would actually train like he suggested was luck of the draw.

It was only once he entered the cruiser, bags in hand with a clone commander trailing behind him, that he truly understood the gravity of this decision.

He was leaving his two troublemaking padawans unsupervised in the middle of a war to run off to a witch planet on the vague hope it might help. Not only that, but he had somehow managed to pull his poor commander along with him. It was not a choice he would have made in his previous life, but what option did he have? Palpatine had to be stopped. No matter the cost.

His padawans would be fine. They would be. He just had to trust them and put his faith in the force. Obi-wan was brought back in time for a reason, he had to make it count.

That didn’t help him explain to his poor commander why the two of them were abandoning the garrison to run off alone. Somehow obi-wan thought the ‘will of the force’ excuse wasn’t going to cut it. He honestly still wasn’t sure why Yoda had let him go. The old master must have sensed something important to have allowed it. Cody on the other hand wouldn’t be able to sense anything so important and was likely wondering what his General was smoking.

It came as no surprise when his commander cornered him after takeoff. Obi-wan had just left the debatable comfort of the pilot’s seat (He never had liked flying) when Cody materialized at the door, asking in the politest way possible for a mission briefing.

For a few seconds, there was no sound between them but the hum of the hyperdrive.

“What do you know of Dathomir?” Obi-wan asked, it was likely the clone had been doing his own research on the matter, and if he was going to brief Cody, he had to know what information he was already privy to.

“Dathomir is located in the Quelli section of the outer rim territories and is often referred to as the ‘rancor planet’ due to the beasts that live there,” Cody recited blankly, staring just to the left of Obi-wans head. What was so interesting about the control panel behind him was a mystery to be sure. Cody hesitated then before pushing on, “It is rumored that the planet is home to witches, though there is very little proof of this.”

Ok. That at least gave Obi-wan something to work from. Cody couldn’t know the real reason for this mission, wouldn’t believe him even if he did, but Obi-wan could tell him the truth. From a certain point of view.

“Dathomir is home to a clan of very powerful force users,” He began, cataloguing his commanders’ reactions, “As you said, they are indeed known as ‘witches’ though they call themselves the nightsisters. You have actually met one before, Asaaj Ventress.”

A curious expression crossed Cody’s face, force presence flaring in a mixture of anger and fear. In the short time she had been present on the field of battle, Ventress had managed to garner a reputation as a sadistic killer who targeted clones.

The ship creaked slightly, metal groaning around them.

“It is our belief that the separatists, Count Dooku specifically, may try to bargain the help of this clan. If they were to join forces, the consequences would be disastrous. It is our intention to get there first and warn them of the Sith’s treachery. In the best-case scenario, we may also be able to win their favor, though I doubt it.”

Cody nodded.

“Sir, if they find out that you were the one to, uh, deal with Ventress – “

“That will not be a problem.” Obi-wan assured. If anything, mother Talzin would be grateful for his intervention. He had gotten the impression Ventress had always been one of her favorites.

“That being said,” He continued, “It is important to note that the nighsisters are a matriarchal society. They will not be very impressed with two males wandering into their territory. I must ask that you not provoke or threaten them, no matter how violent they appear.”

Cody shuddered, likely imagining doubles of Ventress advancing on him with blades ignited and laughter ringing behind them.

“And if they decide to kill us?” He asked.

Obi-wan huffed, that would indeed be problematic. Though he was certain it wouldn’t happen.

“The nightsisters would not do such a thing without first consulting mother Talzin, and she has a good enough reason to listen to me that I doubt she would make such a decision.”

Cody nodded, then smiled a little.

“Right, uh, thanks. Sir.”

Obi-wan just waved nonchalantly. He did not voice the thoughts that swirled around in his head.

Don’t thank me yet, he almost wanted to say, I may be about to get you killed.

It wouldn’t come to that. Force, he hoped it wouldn’t come to that.

(Foreign-change-jedi-Intruder.)

There were strangers on her planet. Two men, she was sure. One felt stubborn and unyielding, a stone in a rushing river that refuses to be swayed. The other had traces of her force presence in his aura, though she was certain they hadn’t met before. How – curious.

The shadows had been whispering to her for some time now. At first, she hadn’t understood what they were trying to say, but it was impossible to ignore the imbalance that had struck the force not so long ago. Something was happening beyond the reaches of her presence. Something big. Many times, she had prayed to the fanged god for clarity on this matter, but none had come.

(Change-hush-safe-change)

Perhaps these visitors would bring with them the answers she sought. Mother Talzin had been warned of their arrival, the planet keen to aid in her search. A rogue Jedi it seemed, and his loyal commander. They were very far from home, and very insistent in the force.

(Change-danger-change-ASHLA)

It would not be long now until they arrived in her domain. Patience was the only thing that stood between herself and them. Mother Talzin had lived a long life, had stared into the depths of her planet and drawn power from its Ichor. She had seen the dead raised and watched stars fall away to ash.

She could wait for her answers.

And they would come. By the fanged god, they would come.

When Cody exited the ship, he was met with a knife at his throat and a dozen energy bows pointed at his head. It had been an expected affront, though that didn’t stop the instinctual panic that raced up his spine. He glanced at his General who was calmy walking towards the crazy ladies in hoods. It had been quite unnerving to see them materialize from the underbrush, and he had just about refrained from grabbing the blaster off his hip. Though, it had been close.

In the moment of silence that came over them, he took the time to examine the terrain. Marshes stretched out before him, filled with trees whose roots twisted and tangled together. Every inch of the ground was covered in foliage. He squinted upwards, noticing that the leaves provided little opportunity for the light to shine through into the forest. The effect was a deeply disturbing picture of mist and humidity.

The perfect place for an ambush, and they had walked willingly into it.

Kenobi cleared his throat, catching the attention of the horde that surrounded them. Not that they had ever taken their eyes off the two intruders but oh well.

Then the man opened his mouth.

“Take me to your leader!” His idiot General bellowed, a shit-eating grin plastered on his face, and Cody fought the urge to sigh. If they were trying to get themselves killed as soon as possible, this would be the way to do it.

Kenobi didn’t seem concerned, however, as the witches clapped the two in handcuffs and shoved a bag over their heads. In fact, as they were paraded who-knows-where the familiar sound of the man flirting washed over him.

“You know, I do prefer to be asked before I’m blindfolded. Not that I mind, but I would have liked to at least know your name first.”

Cody tripped, water from what he presumed was marshland splashing into his boot. Great. Now he would have to deal with wet socks as well as an insane General.

“Silence jedi” One of the women hissed, and Cody almost sympathized with her. It was honestly a miracle that Kenobi was still alive. With his sense of self-preservation – or lack thereof – paired with his natural inclination to sass opponents, Cody really did wonder about his sanity.

The journey continued mostly in silence from then on, punctuated only by Kenobi’s observations.

“Quite the grip on you my dear, do try not to steer me into any more bushes.”

“Talkative as ever is see, silence it is.”

“I’m sure your mother approves of your rudeness.”

After what seemed like hours of stumbling blindly through the forest, the sounds of civilization reached Cody’s ears. It seemed they were here.

Wherever ‘here’ was.

There was a cool wind on his face, so different from the stifling humidity of the swamplands. Whispers brushed against his ears as they were lead through what he presumed to be a town. His only solace was in the occasional bumps of his General’s shoulder against his own.

This was fine.

They were going to be fine. He just had to trust that Kenobi knew what he was doing, which was a rare occurrence these days. Cody had been certain the man was at least more competent than other Jedi Generals when he had managed to successfully defeat the seppies on Christophsis and survive the battle of Geonosis.

Recently, he was beginning to doubt that impression.

He was pulled from his thoughts by the bag being ripped off of his head.

Brightness overwhelmed his vision, and he squeezed his eyes shut, body braced for any violence that may occur. When he opened them again, he was faced with an exceptionally strange looking woman in a red robe.

Her face was pale, like the women who had cornered them in the swamps, but she was – tall. She towered above himself and the General, dark spots over her eyes casting an expression that Cody would usually find intimidating. At this point, he was far too weirded out to care.

He turned to look at Kenobi, quickly scanning him over for injuries. When he found none – which was rather surprising considering the man had talked his damn mouth off – he glanced around the room.

They seemed to be in some sort of stone temple, great carved pillars holding the fortress up. Around them were women all dressed in the same red clothes and hoods, though they varied in style. Their weapons ranged from energy bows to knives to swords, he thought he saw a whip on one of their belts as well, but he couldn’t be sure.

“Mother Talzin,” His General began drawing Cody’s gaze back to the strange woman – witch – whatever she was, “It is an Honor to meet you in this life.”

The tall woman – mother Talzin – turned towards him.

“In this life? So, we have met before in another one, jedi.”

Her voice held a heavy accent, and when she spoke it sounded like the shadows spoke with her. They seemed to jump and sway around her frame, and Cody wasn’t sure if it was his eyes or more force osik that he would have to ask his general about later. If they survived until later that was.

“You have been expecting me, I see. I am willing to share with you the answers that you seek, but my friend and I have travelled a long way and are in dire need of some rest. We would be grateful if you could provide us with such, in return I will offer you what I can in terms of the knowledge you seek.” Kenobi continued, meeting the witch’s eye with no hesitation.

She laughed slightly at that, seemingly bemused by his attitude, before she waved a hand.

“The witches of Dathomir know little of hospitality but we will offer you what we have – after you have proved your worth.”

Cody did not like the sound of that. He did not like the sound of that at all.

“I suppose you would like to see proof of my statement? Very well. If you allow my dear commander to wait outside, I will gladly assuage your doubts in the privacy you will surely provide.” His General challenged, flirtatious smirk flitting about his face.

For a minute, Cody was terrified of what Talzin would demand of him, and what his General would give.

It seemed he had no time to worry about that though. Within the blink of an eye Kenobi was being led through one of the giant doors, leaving Cody alone and surrounded by bloodthirsty witches.

Well shit.

Chapter Text

"Who a person truly is cannot be seen with the eye." - Season 4, Episode 4

The room Obi-wan was dragged into was one he recognized. He had seen it before, so many years ago when he and Anakin had come here in search of answers.

The table in the middle was the very one they had sat at, the same red garnishing’s and marbled surface. Back then Anakin had been at his back, covering his old masters six as he always did. They had been in and out of the planet’s atmosphere quick, laughing and joking about being home at the temple in time for tea.

This time, Obi-wan was alone. Well, alone save for mother Talzin.

He wasn’t sure he would ever understand the witch. The power she and the rest of the nighsisters drew from the planet’s ichor was one thing, but the way she used that power to call on knowledge she could not possibly possess – that was something else. She was certainly more powerful than he had anticipated. It was something to watch out for certainly.

Obi-wan took a seat at the table at the gesture of the women. When she sat across from him, she did not speak for a few seconds. Instead, she stared directly into his eyes in a way that was most definitely not unnerving. No, not at all.

“You carry traces of this planet on you, yet I am certain you have never been here before.” She said, shadows rising and falling with the pitch of her voice. The sound echoed around the room as though the walls themselves were whispering the words to each other in hushed tones.

“Not in this timeline, no. But in another I came here in search of answers. It is the reason I have returned.” He said, measuring his sentences carefully. In his past life Obi-wan had not had much contact with Talzin, he did not know how she would react to such an unbelievable statement.

He was surprised when she only nodded seriously, then stood and made her way over to a wooden cabinet in the corner of the room. Inside was an array of cups and bottles. The cups ranged from old and rusted looking to gleaming and gold. The bottles on the other hand were filled with various liquids and labelled in a language he could not read. Talzin took three vials and one cup that was engraved with sigils and markings.

She did not even check the labels, so sure was her hand.

“I believe you, but my sisters cannot accept the word of one jedi alone.” She explained, laying the materials out on the table. “This drink will allow our minds to connect, showing me your memories in a way that will not damage your mental state or your shields.”

Well, that was – terrifying. She was going to, what, fuse their minds? Join to Obi-wans consciousness and swim through his memories? Yeah. No thanks. He would have to pass on that one.

It wasn’t like he could just say that to the scary witch lady though. He had to have a little more tact.

“Will I be able to control the memories that you see? I have rather a lot of them, some of which I would rather not relive.”

She hummed, pulling the stopper off a bottle that held bubbling green liquid and emptying the contents into the cup. She swirled it around and he watched as the color shifted from green to a vibrant purple.

“You will have some element of control, but I will know if you deliberately try to keep things from me.” She said, opening the next bottle and tipping a sprinkle of gold powder into the glass.

“Sounds fair.” He said absently as he watched the mixture once again change color from purple to a clear blue. “How do I know you’re not trying to poison me?” He asked, going for a comedic tone even though he was beginning to seriously wonder about the likelihood of that possibility.

“If I wanted to kill you then it would already be so.” Talzin said and honestly? Fair enough. She was certainly more powerful than him and Obi-wan couldn’t rationalize a reason why she wouldn’t just kill him if that’s what she wanted.

The witch lifted the cup to her lips, blowing the steam away that rose from the top before taking a sip. Then she handed it over to him, face set in stone and yet somehow managing to convey a sense of expectancy.

He took the cup and stared down at the mixture. It still appeared clear, but if he turned it around in the light, he could see veins of lime green running through the liquid.

He grimaced.

“Bottoms up.” He said, grinning in a way that he was certain looked more like a grimace before taking a careful sip of the potion.

It burned as it travelled down his throat, and he fought not to spit it straight back out again. He looked up to see Mother Talzin smiling, though he didn’t know why. The potion hadn’t seemed to work. He didn’t feel any different. He opened his mouth to say as much but found no sound would come.

Then his vision went black, and the shadows whispered to him. The last thing he remembered was falling backwards off his seat and feeling rather embarrassed about that fact.

He was thirteen and there was a slave collar around his neck. It tore and burned at his skin. It was nothing compared to the slaver in front of him, brandishing a whip and screaming at him to hurry up. He gritted his teeth. Qui-Gon would come. He had to come.

He was fourteen and around him children were dying. He couldn’t save them, though he tried. He tried so heard. “Obi- plea – Obi,” Cerasi gasped, hands clutched over her stomach. No. No no nononono. He cried then. He couldn’t help it.

A voice brushed against his mind and drew him away from that grief. He went willingly, he didn’t want her to see him in that wreck. It felt strange, to realize so suddenly there was another being occupying your mind.

He was 20 something and on Tatooine, there was a boy who shone brightly in the force, oh so brightly. He knew this boy was going to replace him. Then he watched his master get stabbed, he watched the zabrak fall down and down and down.

There was an anger in his mind at this, a sense of fury at his past self’s action. He supposed Maul was one of mother Talzins children as well. Her fingers grasped the memory, then let it drift back into his subconsciousness.

Things moved quicker then, he watched Anakin grow up in leaps and bounds, watched as he panicked about teaching the boy to swim, settling for simply chucking him in the deep end.

Then there was war again. If there was one thing Obi-wan was good at, it was war.

Geonosis, Christophsis, and Ryloth passed in a flash. Mandalore. He pushed those memories away; he did not want Talzin to touch them. He could not let her touch them.

Then came Savage Opress and the return of Maul, then the massacre of the nightsisters.

Cody shooting him in the back.

Anakin’s eyes were yellow. Why were they yellow? He had come back, hadn’t he? He could save him.

Tatooine’s binary suns bore down on him again. He could feel his skin peeling away where he was burnt. Luke was so small in his arms, so small and so fragile. He had to protect him. He would protect him.

The suns disappeared and suddenly he was hitting the floor, breath knocked out of him. It took a minute for him to realize that he had seen his entire life play out in the space of a second and was only now reaching the floor after falling from his chair.

Mother Talzin offered him a hand which he took, trying to re-orientate himself in the presence of the witch.

When she looked at him, there was a mix of curiosity, pity, and anger brewing in her eyes.

“It is true then; the force has seen fit to sent you back.”

He laughed, a horrid and ragged thing.

“Yes,” He said, voice coming out in a strangled rasp, “For whatever Sith sworn reason, yes it has.”

Mother Talzin nodded, then returned to her seat at the table.

“You will return here tomorrow to discuss this future of yours, but for now, let us talk of how I can help you. I know how to locate Maul.”

Deep breath in, hold for seven, exhale for eight. In for four, hold for seven, out for eight.

It was an exercise he had used often on Kamino. Alpah-17 had taught it to him as Cody tried to make it through his training. It slowed the heart, allowing the mind to think clearer and act more rationally.

Currently, it was the only thing preventing him from making a break through the doors to find his General and dragging him back to the ship.

He didn’t know how long he had been standing silently in the stone hallway, hundreds of eyes burning holes into his back. At least Cody still had his blaster hanging from his hip. Why the nightsisters hadn’t removed it, he didn’t know.

Actually, that wasn’t true. He was almost certain they had left it on him as a message. A reminder that even with a weapon, he would not be able to fight his way out of this, not when they numbered so many. Still, it was a comforting weight. It let him know that if he was attacked, he at least had some methods of self-defense open to him.

Wait for the General, he told himself. Kenobi would be back soon and then they could get the hell off this freaky planet and away from all its freaky inhabitants. The witches definitely counted as freaky. They had been staring at him long enough for him to realize how predatorial they acted.

In a way, they reminded him of his brothers. Fiercely loyal and highly protective of each other.

It was at this thought that something tugged on the armor of his leg.

He spun, blaster finding its way into his hand and pointing down at the threat, he trained its focus on –

On a child. A child who was now gazing up at him in fear. There was a collective intake of breath from around him as the witches prepared themselves to jump to the youngling’s rescue should Cody attack her.

He lowered the blaster, then attached it back on the clasp of his belt.

The girl smiled at him, yellow eyes crinkled in a way that would someday be terrifying but currently looked adorable with their doe-ish shape and her messily braided silver hair. The markings on her face were less pronounced than those the adults bore, two faint lines beneath her eyes, one stretching over her nose, and another two traveling up to her forehead. The pale hand tugged on his leg again and he bent down, bringing himself to the girl’s eye level.

“Hey there kid, you wanna ask me something?” Cody said, trying to ignore the way the other women hissed at him in a not so silent threat, hands still attached to their weapons. The kid didn’t seem phased by this however, leaning in towards Cody with a tilt to her head.

“What is that thing?” The girl asked in a thick accent, pointing to his blaster.

She – didn’t know what a blaster was? But she was supposed to be a nightsister, an assassin in training, how could she not know what a blaster was? Maybe it just wasn’t a thing here. He glanced around quickly, trying to see if any of the other assassins had any type of firearm.

All he could see were knives and bows.

“It’s, uh, it’s my blaster kid, I use it to shoot things, like big monsters that will come and eat you up.” He said seriously, causing the girl to giggle in a high-pitched shriek. As soon as the sound left her mouth, she pulled her hands up to muffle it as though she hadn’t meant to laugh.

Then she looked closer at the weapon and wrinkled her nose.

“I bet it’s not as good as a plasma bow.” She said, then pointed to a woman in the crowd who had one slung over her back. “My sister says plasma bows are the bestest weapon cause they’re suuuuuuper light an’ they’re really deadly too.”

Cody laughed. It seemed that cadets were the same everywhere, whether that was Kamino or Coruscant or even the swamplands of Dathomir. Too obsessed with weapons for their own good and way to impressed with their older siblings.

“Is that so? Well, I guess your sister must be right,” He said, and the woman the little girl had pointed to puffed up slightly, “but how would she know if she’s never used a blaster before?”

The girl stood and thought about it for a moment, biting her lip and swaying on her heels. She glanced over at the woman who Cody assumed was her sister, but she merely shrugged, ironic grin plastered on her face. The girl nodded.

“You’re pretty smart mister. Maybe she should try a blaster. What’s your name anyway?”

“I’m Cody, and who might you be?”

“I’m Merrin an’ that’s my big sister Dresdema,” The girl – Merrin said as she pointed to the amused looking woman with the plasma bow “We call her ‘Dres’ for short though cause it’s easier to say.”

Cody nodded, smiling at her explanation. “It’s very nice to meet you Merrin.”

As she grinned up at him again, an idea struck. An idea that may very well take the title of the worst idea he had ever had. Followed closely by the time he had decided to challenge Gree to a spice eating contest and ended up with his tongue burnt off.

“Hey, why don’t you call your sister over here and see if she wants a shot of my blaster, then we can see which one is actually better?” He asked, hoping that suggesting using his weapon wouldn’t get him impaled or beheaded by one of the crazy witches.

Merrin’s eyes widened, and she nodded excitedly, bouncing on her heels as she did so. Then she ran off into the crowd and grabbed her sister’s hand, dragging her over to where Cody was standing.

“Dres he says you can try his blaster thing, he said then we would know for sure which one was better. You have to try it Dres! Can I try it? Please, please, please Dres I’ll be careful with it!” Merrin babbled to the woman as she came closer to Cody.

Dresdema only patted her head before turning her gaze on him, sizing him up in a way that made his hackles rise in alarm. Her fond smile was wiped clean, and as she assessed him; he took the time to examine her.

She looked the double of her little sister, though far more terrifying. They had the exact same shade of pale skin and silver hair, though Dresdema’s was cut short and shaved on one side. Merrin had hers in two short braids that wove around the back of her head. Their facial marking differed slightly as well, but only slightly. Dresdema had wider and more pronounced marks with a few extra lines beneath the hollows of her cheeks.

“My sister says you intend to – teach the art of this weapon.” She said, drawing her lips back into an almost sneer. It looked as though all of her effort was put into being polite to him. When she looked at his blaster, however, she did seem curious despite the way she buried the expression beneath her disgust.

“I, uh, sure, why not?” He said, shrugging slightly. Cody really wasn’t sure what he was supposed to say to that. It wasn’t like shooting a blaster was an ‘art’ or anything. Hell, even the cadets could manage.

“And what do you want in return?” Dresdema asked, shoulders raised slightly in suspicion.

What did he want in return? Like payment or something? Why would she pay a clone? Never mind that, why would she pay someone to teacher her how to use something as simple as a blaster?

“Um, nothing?”

“I refuse to be indebted to an outsider.” She snarled and pulled back, hand resting on her knife.

Okay then.

It seemed that nightsisters had a very different approach to debts than clones. With his brothers, life debts were important yes, but you were expected to share knowledge. It was common curtesy to pass on your tips to the shiny’s. The more weapons you knew how to use, the more likely you were to survive.

Speaking of knowing how to use weapons -

“Okay, uh, why don’t you teach me how to use your bow then? You know, exchange skills?” He proposed. She seemed to mull this over for a minute before nodding.

Merrin whooped, throwing her arms in the air and immediately making a grab for the blaster on his hip. Luckily for the safety of all involved parties, her sister managed to snag her back at the last minute.

Dresdema looked Cody dead in the eye as he held his blaster out, offering it to her and hoping she wouldn’t immediately try to shoot him.

She took it gingerly, running her eyes and fingers over the metal before turning back to him.

“Show me.”

Chapter Text

"One must let go of the past to hold onto the future" - Season 4, Episode 19

After his little talk with Talzin, Obi-wan was left wondering many things.

She had said she knew how to find Maul, and he wasn’t sure if that relieved or scared him. In the end, he had made his peace with that particular enemy. Maul had been a victim as much as he had, twisted and warped by the same Sith who had engineered the death of Obi-wans people, his master included.

If Obi-wan found the Zabrak, he wasn’t sure what he would do.

Would he have to kill Maul, broken and angry as he was? Would there be any way to help him, to fix the mess of a brain that his agony had left him with?

There was no way of knowing. And that was what scared him.

Obi-wan knew many things for certain, his knowledge of the future giving him insight into people’s motives and character, but there were some things that were beyond his reach. Even now, he was changing the course of the future so drastically that his knowledge could end up being entirely useless.

He had come to Dathomir to find answers, but all he had come across so far were questions.

With questions he needed an answer to in mind, where had Cody gotten off to?

Obi-wan had left the room with Talzin and expected to see his dear commander, stiff as a board and uncomfortable around the nightsisters, but instead was faced only with empty space. There were a few witches wandering about, but the previously crowded hall was now empty and quiet.

That was concerning.

He stretched his force presence out, searching for the steady thrum of Cody. There – not too far away, surrounded by dozens of other buzzing energies. Nightsisters.

He couldn’t explain the panic that came over him, the utter fear that Cody was in danger. In fact, it happened so fast he was hardly able to process it. One second, he was standing beside Talzin and the next his legs were moving towards Cody.

It was the only thing he could think off, heart pounding in his throat. Cody, Cody, Cody.

He had to reach him in time, he couldn’t lose anyone else.

He burst out of the hall and came out into the swamp lands, lightsaber in his hands and ready to fight.

Instead of a betrayal or a massacre, he was faced with something very different.

Cody was holding a plasma bow, brows furrowed in steady concentration as he aimed it at one of the targets the witches had set up. Beside him, a nightsister was directing his movements.

“Lift your arm higher,” She said, “You should be able to look down the length of it and see the point where the arrow will hit.”

Cody adjusted his position, then released the drawn string. The plasma arrow moved faster than any blaster bolt, scorching the side of the target. It was far from the center, but considering his commander had only just got here, it was surprisingly accurate.

On the other side of Cody was a little girl, bouncing on her heels and holding his Commanders blaster. It was far too heavy for her, but she was managing to keep the tip off the floor and seemed to be having a grand time of blasting random trees and cheering when she hit them. Obi-wan was somewhat relieved to see it had been set to stun.

It seemed Cody had been busy making friends with the local homicidal maniacs. Well, perhaps it was time he introduce himself.

“Evening ladies!” He called, causing a number of eyes to turn and lock onto him. Of course many of them had already sensed he was there, but he assumed they had deemed him unimportant compared to their little impromptu lesson.

Cody on the other hand nearly dropped the bow with the wave of relief that rushed through his presence.

“General!” He shouted, hand coming up in an awkward half-wave-half-salute.

The child beside him actually did drop her weapon, eyes screwing shut as she took him in. Then she beckoned Cody down to her level, “Is that the Jedi?” She asked in his ear, attempting to whisper though failing spectacularly at that.

“Yeah kid, that’s the Jedi. General Obi-wan Kenobi.” Cody said, mock whispering back to the girl just as loudly.

It was sweet, the way his commander knelt down to talk to her and the way the girl clung to his leg like a limpet. Cody had been busy indeed.

“Dresdema!” A voice called from beside him and he just about managed to refrain from jumping seven foot out of sheer surprise. Obi-wan turned to see Talzin, amusement glistening in her eyes as she took in his moment of panic.

“Yes mother,” The woman who had been directing Cody answered, snapping to attention.

“Take our guests to where they will be staying and tell your sisters that they are to be made welcome.” Talzin said, emphasizing the words ‘guests’ and ‘welcome’ as though the nightsisters would misinterpret them as ‘dinner’ and ‘terrified’. Which honestly was probably not too far off.

Before he could ponder that anymore, the woman beckoned him over.

“Follow.” She said, then disappeared off into the marshes.

He looked at Cody who was only grinning fondly after her, as though they had known each other for years. For the first time, Obi-wan realized that his commander was probably comfortable around the nightsisters because they were familiar. Not them specifically, but the way they interacted and the sisterhood they prized. It shouldn’t have been surprising.

“Shall we?” He asked his commander with a smirk, and together they set off into the wilderness and hopefully, Obi-wan thought to himself, not to their death.

The shack was stationed in the middle of nowhere. It was surrounded by wilderness on either side, packed dirt lining the walls and a curtain of woven threads covering the door, small but comfortable. Or at least it would have been if it didn’t remind Obi-wan so much of Tatooine. It was almost the same size as the hut he had stayed in so briefly, the one he could hardly recall through the haze of alcohol tinted memories. It was where he and Cody would be staying for the night, courtesy of some very threatening nightsisters.

When they had arrived, Dresdema had turned to Cody. “Return with the Jedi tomorrow,” She had said, “You are still shit at firing that bow.” And then she had left them with a smirk and a wave, vanishing back into the trees.

Obi-wan had laughed a little at that, it seemed war followed him everywhere.

As they entered the hut, he realized how generous the offer of accommodation truly was, considering what Mother Talzin had just seen in Obi-wan’s mind. In his own timeline, the nightsisters had been wiped out as Talzin herself had witnessed. As far as he was aware, there were no survivors. More than anyone else, Obi-wan understood the horror of surviving a genocide. For Talzin to have simply given them a place to stay even whilst knowing that the Jedi’s inaction had caused it, well. Obi-wan wasn’t going to look a gift Bantha in the mouth.

The other problem with the accommodation was the fact that the hut felt far too vulnerable. Out in the middle of the wilderness, no reinforcements, no cover, no nothing. It was the perfect spot for an ambush, and it was putting Obi-wan on edge.

“Sir?” Cody asked, hovering anxiously by the door. “I can stand guard sir, for tonight.”

Of course. Always so practical, following the rules to the letter. It made complete sense that Cody would offer this. They were in the middle of enemy territory, surrounded by potential threats. But Obi-wan had the force and his prior knowledge to reassure him of safety.

“That won’t be necessary Cody, we are quite safe here. A rest will do us both some good, we wouldn’t want to be at anything but our best tomorrow. The force will alert me if there is any danger.” He reasoned, thinking of the day to come. He knew Mother Talzin would demand more from him than what he had already shown. He remembered the feeling of her poking around in his head, the violating nature of her voice echoing around his mind, within his shields. He was not looking forward to a repeat performance.

Cody still hesitated, hovering for a second more before advancing further into the room.

“yes sir. I’ll take the floor.” He said, tacking on the end sentence with an awkward assuredness. Obi-wan cast his gaze around the room.

Ah.

Only one bed.

That could potentially be problematic. He had not expected such a predicament and certainly did not want to make his poor commander sleep on the floor of all places. Too often had Cody been placed second, his life was just as important as anyone else’s, and Obi-wan was determined to prove as such.

“Nonsense Cody, I have the force to sustain me. The bed is yours.”  He said, waving his hand dismissively. That was true. . . from a certain point of view. Obi-wan did have the force to keep him awake, but he had already been leaning on it heavily for the past few days. Other things had preoccupied his nights – Anakin’s eyes were yellow –  and he couldn’t keep that up for much longer, but one night would hardly make a difference.

“Sir, I couldn’t possibly – “

“Oh, what are we doing?” He interrupted, “we are both adults. We can share the bed, if there is no issue.” He was a jedi master, he could face sharing a bed with his commander for one night. Why would there be an issue on his part?

“Hnrg” Came the strangled sound from Cody, his force presence flooded with – embarrassment? Shame? Obi-wan wasn’t sure. It was sometimes hard to tell when the emotions were tangled together.

“Um, yes, okay. Sure sir.” Cody said, clearing his throat before bending down to remove his armor. His movements were jerky and awkward, but he didn’t seem too uncomfortable in the force.

Obi-wan couldn’t stop the wave of fondness that washed through him. My dear commander.

He sat down on the edge of the bed, not bothering to remove his boots. If something happened in the night, an attack or the like, he wanted to be prepared. He would just sleep as he was. It was safer that way.

He almost pitied Cody, he knew that his commander felt uncomfortable without his armor on, too bare. But Obi-wan couldn’t imagine it being all too comfortable to sleep in.

He tried not to look at Cody as he stripped down to his blacks. He firmly ignored the hot blush that was working its way up his face to the tips of his ears. Get it together Kenobi. It was undeniable that Cody was handsome, but he wasn’t some crushing padawan, he could control his thoughts.

The bed itself wasn’t too small and could quite comfortably hold both Cody and Obi-wan, as he soon found out. His commander slipped under the covers next to him and his heart missed a beat. He tried to play off the stuttering of his breath as a cough. Obi-wan turned to face the door, and behind him Cody did the same.

“It feels safer, doesn’t it? Keeping it in sight.” Obi-wan said.

“yes sir.” Cody’s voice was slightly hoarse, sending shivers through him. This was fine. Just two professional adults in a strictly professional relationship doing professional things.

He could feel the rise and fall of his Commanders chest behind him. Warm breath tingled on the back of his neck.

It made something in Obi-wan’s skin come alive.

“Comfortable, commander?” He asked, aiming for a teasing tone and failing spectacularly.

“Very, sir.” Cody said. And just like that Obi-wan realised. He was desperately, hopelessly in love with his Commander.

(He is falling, why is he falling? There was a blast – Cody?)

It was like realising the sky was blue or that the world was round, he was certain that he had always been aware of it on some level, he just hadn’t truly noticed until now.

He realised just as quickly that he would have to bury the feeling deep down inside of him. As deep as he could dig. It could never happen. He was Cody’s superior, it was improper. Of course, that hardly mattered considering he would never reciprocate Obi-wans feelings anyway.

(Cody shot him. Cody tried to kill him. Obi-wan still loved him.)

“Goodnight, sir.” Cody said, so softly that Obi-wan wasn’t sure if he had actually said it at first. The force was laughing at him. It had dropped the perfect man right in front of him, had brought Obi-wan back here to realise it, only to know that it could never happen.

“Goodnight, commander.”

Okay. Fine. Now he just needed to last through the night. He could do that.

Obi-wan had the sinking suspicion that he would not be getting much sleep. He took a deep breath, ignoring the warmth of Cody behind him and resigned himself to what he was sure would be a long, restless night.

There was blood on his hands.

There was blood on his hands that wasn’t his own.

Cerasi was bleeding out and he couldn’t stop it. She tried to tell him something, but the only thing that came out of her mouth was blood. It ran down her chin and joined the redness seeping from the wound on her chest.

 He was crying, the tears were black. They painted streaks on his face as they rolled down.

Where was Anakin? Where did he go? He had to find him.

The body in his arms was heavy, and when he looked down it wasn’t Cerasi anymore, it was Cody.

“Why?” The corpse whispered, “Why did you kill me?”

There was a lightsabre in his hands that he didn’t know he had. There was a lightsabre in his hands, and it was piercing Cody’s flesh. The tears were back in black waves, and they pooled at his feet.

The body changed from Cody to a youngling. The lightsabre in his hands wasn’t blue.

Where was Anakin?

Mechanical breathing. I HATE YOU

Nononononono how did he find me.

The twins. He had to protect the twins, he had to-

But then he was falling. The pool of black tears had opened into a bottomless pit, and he was falling. Down and down and down and down. The blackness surrounded him, but it burned. The black was separated by cracks of glowing red.

Yellow eyes stared into his.

Cody’s voice rang from somewhere in the distance, but it was muffled and unintelligible. Why was Cody so far away? He should be right next to Obi-wan, like he always was.

There was blood on his hands again. But this time it belonged to him. When he looked down, his heart was missing. Instead, there was a gaping, bloody hole where it should have been.

He was screaming. His ears were burning from the noise of it, but he couldn’t stop screaming. Flames and hate and the stench of burnt flesh

I HATE YOU -

“Gene------ please----------AKE UP---------OBI-WAN”

That sounded like Cody. But Obi-wan killed Cody, so why-?

“GENERAL-----------PLEA-------------------BI-WAN!-------GHTMARE”

-

Obi-wan woke up with a scream still lodged in his throat. He could feel cold sweat on his palms and for a minute all he could do was sit and try to force air into his lungs. Where – where was he?

“General?”

He scrambled back as fast as he could, hitting his head on something as panic overtook his system, one thought running through his head. Get away.

Because that was a clone’s voice, and if they were here, they were here for the twins.

“No, I won’t let you hurt them, you can’t. they’re just kids, please.” The string of words was out of his mouth before he could process or stop them. He couldn’t tell if the tears on his face were from the nightmare or the desperation.

“General, it’s okay. It’s me, its Cody. Can you follow my breathing? In and out, nice and slow.”

Something about that sentence managed to register in his mind, and he calmed enough to try and follow the clones’ instructions. After all, panicking would get him nowhere.

In.

Out.

In.

Out.

Little by little, rational thought came back to him. He wasn’t on Tatooine, the twins weren’t here. He was in the past. he was on Dathomir. He was in bed with his commander.

Wait-

“Cody?” He asked, his voice nothing more than a trembling whisper.

“It’s ok sir, you’re doing great. Just keep breathing, it’s okay.” Cody said, and he was so much closer than Obi-wan had thought. He hadn’t fully processed his commander’s hand slowly rubbing circles on his back or the stabling hold he had on Obi-wans shoulder.

Now, it was impossible to ignore.

“I’m sorry Cody, I didn’t mean to wake you.” He had been the one to suggest sharing the bed after all, and now his nightmares plagued Cody as well as him.

“It’s okay general, I get them too.”

They stayed like that for a few moments, Obi-wan still trying to calm his heartrate and Cody sitting next to him, a comforting presence, slowly rubbing circles on his back.

“You can call me Obi-wan; you know.” He said eventually, proud of how little his voice wavered.

“General?”

He couldn’t help but laugh a little, “I do believe that we have passed the point at which it is appropriate to use each other’s names, Cody.” He said then quickly tacked on the end “When we’re off duty.”

Cody seemed to think about this for a while before answering. “I suppose you’re right, Obi-wan.” It was wonderful to hear his dear commander speak his name. He liked the way Cody said it. Obi-wan. A little bit of an accent mixed with the husk in his voice. Yes, he could get used to his commander calling him that all too easily.

Chapter Text

"Courage makes heroes, but trust builds friendships." - Season 2, Episode 17

The shadow smiled wide, teeth bared in a manic grin, hand clamped on Obi-wans jaw. The sabre burst into life, spilling redness across the room. He could feel its heat, the burning hatred that hovered close to his face.

“I will make sure you stay awake long enough to feel every single cut.” The voice called, deep and purring and menacing.

He struggled, Hands scrabbling at the immovable force of his enemy’s arm. He couldn’t die, not here. Not by his hand. The force would provide, it always did. But now, it was swamped with darkness. Each time he tried to grasp it the strands slid through his fingers like bubbling oil.

The tendrils of darkness in his mind pushed deeper. He didn’t want to look. He didn’t want to see.

“Your death will be beyond agonizing. You will suffer, as I have suffered.”

Maul grinned again, and Obi-wan could only watch helplessly  –

-

-

-

A cough escaped his throat as he slouched over the table, Talzin retreating from his mind. It seemed as though she had seen all she needed to see. He was glad. He hadn’t particularly wanted to relive the various tortures that Maul had put him through.

(Satine clutched his hand. I’ve always loved you, she said, and I always will.)

“Are you going to kill my son?”

It was the first thing Talzin asked when he regained his composure, returning to reality. They weren’t in the same room as before, this one seemed to be less for interrogation unfortunate prisoners and more for leisure. The carpet on the floor was the same red as the nighsister uniforms and there were comfy looking pillows spread around it. He and Talzin were sitting at the wooden table in the middle though, and the silence around them was deafening.

Obi-wan knew what she was asking, but that didn’t make the answer any easier.

Was he going to kill maul if he found him? Would he try to help him; collect the fragments of his mind that had been spread so far? Or would he end it all there? Those questions had haunted him long enough, but more than anything else, more than ever before, a different question wedged into his mind.

 Would he tell Talzin if he did?

She was a fiercely loyal women, though only to her children. She would do anything to protect them, the sister and brotherhoods that she had nurtured and grown.

But would she realize that Maul would never be at peace whilst Obi-wan lived? He couldn’t let himself die, he had too much to do, too many people to save. Perhaps it was selfish but –

“Yes.” He said, feeling the honesty ring out in the force.

He hadn’t known the answer to that question until he had said it, but Obi-wan realized it was the right choice to make. Even with Talzins interference Maul had been a wreck. Obsessed to the point of madness, he had driven himself and his brother to a grim ending. He knew he couldn’t let that happen again. And he couldn’t keep that from the witch, no matter how strong his shields.

Talzin obviously was not too fond of this answer.

The shadows seemed to swell with her presence, rising and falling with her breaths, before it cut away. Then they were back to the oppressive silence.

“Life must be paid for by life.” Talzin said at last, “It is the way of the fanged god. When he takes life, a life must be given in return. It is what you call birth and death.”

So, what, Talzin wanted him to provide a life? He really hoped that didn’t mean he had to – ehm – spar with a nightsister. For all of his flirting and flaunting, he had recently discovered he was rather enamored with a certain clone thank you very much. And no offence, but pale skin and a tendency to murder men who annoyed them mildly didn’t really do it for him.

“And how will I pay this debt?” He asked, trying not to give away what he was thinking in case Talzin had something more savory in mind.

“Maul has two brothers.” She said.

Two? Obi-wan had known Savage, the hulking giant whose arm he had severed, but a third Opress? That was new. Maybe he had stayed on Dathomir in Obi-wans first life, but that seemed unlikely given Mauls brand of crazed loyalty. It was possible he had died, but surely Maul would have enacted revenge on whoever killed him, and knowing Maul, not shut up about it for a damn second.

It was certainly strange.

“Their lives here will bring them nothing but pain, as I have seen,” Talzin continued, “To pay the debt that you have taken on, you must bring them with you when you leave. Gift them life, and you will pay for the one that was stolen from them, and from Maul.”

A life for a life, he thought, it was fair enough. There was only one small problem, he was fairly certain the council would not appreciate him coming back with two Zabraks in tow, especially after his nonsense excuse as to why he had to leave in the first place. Don’t get him wrong, Plo would be delighted to have more learners to mother, but he couldn’t imagine Yoda being so happy.

But what choice did he have? If he left them on Dathomir, then it was possible Dooku would come for Savage again. A hulking monster he may have been, but Dooku had hurt and tortured and twisted him into that mold. Nobody deserved that. Not even an enemy.

A though struck him suddenly, he could offer to pay with Ventress’ life. he had saved her from what was likely a lifetime of pain, after all. Probably. He wasn’t really sure if she had taken his warning to heart or not. Still, it could be worth a go.

That didn’t solve the problem of Savage though. Even before Maul had returned, he had been apprenticed to Dooku. Whatever caused this, he didn’t know – though he assumed it had something to do with a certain Sith Acolyte and nightsister – but he could stop it from happening for certain. If he accepted this debt, he could end that risk altogether.

After all, everyone deserves a second chance. Even murderous Zabraks who aren’t quite so murderous just yet.

“Deal.” He said, and Talzin smiled.

Then she pulled a medallion from off her neck. It was gold but laced with a green smoke that seemed to emanate around it, filling the air between them. There was a symbol carved into it, but he could not recognize it, nor did he have any idea as to what it meant.

She placed it on the table, and it seemed almost like a peace offering, like an alliance.

“This will lead you to Maul.” She said and he picked it up, turning it over in his hands. It was lighter than Obi-wan had expected, and he gently pulled the chain over his neck.

“You have my thanks.” He said, standing up to leave as she did the same.

“No Master Kenobi, you have mine. I will send word to the nightbrothers, they will be expecting your arrival.”

They left the room together and came back out into the stone corridor. Obi-wan realized that it acted as a social place, nightsisters gathering around the great pillars to spar or practice magicks.

As Talzin walked beside him, he couldn’t help but think that he had made an ally. He had expected her to help him for her own gain, not for that of her children. Obi-wan knew the importance of family though-

YOU WERE MY BROTHER ANAKIN

-he could understand.

It seemed he would have to find Cody; his poor commander would have to be notified that Obi-wan was taking a field trip to the nightbrothers.

Cody.

It was strange, to know what the feeling was that bubbled up inside of him when he thought about his commander. It had been a wonderful feeling, to wake up in the morning and find Cody bustling about the room, organizing this and that. He had been more relaxed around Obi-wan than ever.

He supposed there was just something about trauma that made people closer. It was an excellent way to bond.

Obi-wan sighed to himself, then set off in the direction of the shooting range. He knew his dear commander would be there, slaving away at that plasma bow in the hopes of perfecting it. Always so practical. Always so competent.

No.

He had to stop thinking those thoughts, had to stop indulging that – that fantasy.

That’s all it is, he told himself. It was just a fantasy to see him through, a daydream to keep him going.

The voice in the back of his mind laughed. There is no ignorance, there is knowledge, it said. Yes, that was true. He could not be ignorant anymore, not when the knowledge of his commander’s breath on his neck was lodged firmly in his mind.

Force, he hoped his mind wouldn’t continue to lament like some lovesick padawan. He was not a lovesick padawan.

Just a lovesick master.

Cody pulled the bow taught; eyes trained on the target ahead of him. He widened his stance, planting his feet. Dresdema had said it was a common mistake, focusing too much on your arms and not on your footing. He took a breath in and out, giving himself the time to aim. Don’t think about the target, think about the action, he told himself.

Then he let the arrow fly.

It always surprised him how fast it moved, the plasma taking less than a second to reach the target and burn its mark into it, just left of the bullseye. He smiled; it was an improvement from yesterday. He had at least managed to continuously hit the target instead of missing every few shots.

Dresdema clapped.

“Not too bad spaceman, you might be better than Mirrin in a few weeks.” She said.

Mirrin was off to the side, drawing shapes in the dirt and singing to herself. She seemed to be making a picture of a rancor though it appeared to have two heads and only one eye between them.

“Thanks.” He deadpanned. “And stop calling me spaceman.”

The nightsister had started it yesterday when Mirrin asked him if he had been to space. He told her about the spaceships he had been on and how he spent lots of time in space, moving between planets. That had been a mistake.

Mirrin had gone around each individual nightsister telling them that Cody had ‘come from space’. It had been cute at the time, though constantly being called ‘spaceman’ was starting to annoy him. Dresdema had been delighted, laughing at his misfortune and continuing to remind him of this nickname.

He was beginning to reconsider their agreement of trading knowledge.

He should have picked a different nightsister to learn from.

“Don’t worry, I’m sure its enough to impress that Jedi of yours. Even if he is, y’know – “ She made a weird gesture with her hands, wiggling them in front of her face.

Cody laughed. She was right. His General was – well.

He had crushed droids as if they were made of flimsy, fought with the ferocity of a dying man and the discipline of a jedi knight. Cody had seen him trick the minds of natborns and hold silent conversations with General Skywalker. If there was one way to describe the man, Dresdema had pretty much hit the nail on the head.

She of course hadn’t seen him do any of that stuff.

“How do you know he’s – “ He copied her hand movement, wiggling his fingers in a way that mimicked some form of magic.

She shrugged.

“He feels weird in the force.” She said, as if Cody knew anything about that at all. He knew theoretically that you could feel things, or people, in the force. Kenobi had done it often enough. But how did something feel weird? Did it just stand out or was it something more?

Maybe the nightsisters felt weird to Kenobi in the force.

He didn’t ask, just nodded and went back to firing.

It became a little harder to ignore that statement, however, when Kenobi appeared at the makeshift shooting range and asked to speak to him. Of course, he agreed and followed the man a little away from the nightsisters, somewhere a little more private.

“Obi-wan?” He asked. It felt strange saying the man’s name. He half expected a reprimand, hell, he would have received much worse if he had been that insubordinate on Kamino.

After last night though –

“You can call me Obi-wan; you know.” His General said, still shaking but smiling a little. He looked more vulnerable than Cody had ever seen him. The realization of what Kenobi was trusting him with was staggering. He had gone to sleep, unarmed and unprotected lying next to Cody. He had let down his guard in front of a clone who may as well have been a stranger. He agreed to the request. How could he do anything else when his general was looking at him with those pleading eyes and –

Cody trusted Kenobi. Though it scared him a little, he truly did. The man had been nothing but kind and patient with all of his brothers. He had earned Cody’s trust, and though it would be hard at times, he would give it to him.

“Cody,” Obi-wan said, pulling him from his thoughts, tone serious but not too urgent. “I know this won’t make much sense, but I need to go to the nightbrothers village.”

The nightbrothers -?  Oh, right. The Zabracks who lived on Dathomir, Obi-wan had mentioned them before. They were seen as lesser by the women and treated only as workers, similar to some species of pollinators, his mind supplied rather unhelpfully. It was strange that Obi-wan needed to go there, but who knew what Mother Talzin had been demanding of him, and what he had been supplying in return.

Cody’s job was to protect the General. If his General was going into unfamiliar territory to fulfil an unknown objective –

“I’m coming with you.” He said.

“Cody, it might be dangerous, I – “

“If it's dangerous, then you will need someone to watch your back. I’m coming.” He said.

And that was that. No reprimand for speaking out of turn, no punishment for making demands of his superior. Just a kind smile and a pat on the shoulder.

Maybe trust wasn’t such a scary thing. Maybe he just hadn’t met anyone worthy of it before. It was nice thought.

He wished that it were true.

Chapter Text

"A child stolen is a hope lost." - Season 3, Episode 4

Dresdema had shown them the path to the nightbrothers village, wearing that little dry smirk of hers as she warned them not to get eaten by Rancors. Apparently, she had better things to do than explain to Mirrin why her brand-new spaceman had suddenly and mysteriously gone missing. She had left them with a wink and a wave and a small shove to Cody’s shoulder when he rolled his eyes.

Obi-wan smiled at their antics, noticing how similar the interaction was to something Anakin would pull on him. ‘If you die, I’ll kill you,” he would say, smirking in that Skywalker fashion. He missed him dearly. Ahsoka too. But currently, bigger problems were on his mind.

This was the first time he and Cody had properly spent time alone together since –

Warm breath on his neck with the smell of blaster oil and polish. Hands rubbing circles into his back

Since last night. Since Obi-wan had come to quite the startling realization that he was in fact entirely in love with a man who had just met him. Of course, Obi-wan had known Cody for years, fought in countless battles by his side, spent hundreds of nights in his quarters as they worked out strategies and maneuvers, as they drank and planned and grieved together. But to Cody, those things had never happened. Obi-wan may as well have been a stranger.

It was this fact that he focused on as they trailed through the swamps, air filled with nothing but the chirping of birds. The fact that no matter how much he wanted him to, Cody wouldn’t remember how close they had once been. He wanted to speak. To say something, anything that would fill that horrid gap where smiles and laughter should be. Nothing would come up. Every time he went to speak, the words would catch in his throat and his brain would wrestle them back down.

Silly thing, it seemed to be saying, your heart is too easily given. He was beginning to think it was right.

“I’m sorry.” Were the words that eventually made their out of his mouth, “For dragging you out here like this.”

It wasn’t what he wanted to say, but it was something to fill the smothering silence that loomed over them as they walked.

“It’s not a problem, General – um, Obi-wan.” Cody said, and he couldn’t stop the warmth that rushed through him. No matter how many times he heard it, he would never tire of hearing his commander say his name. Not Kenobi, or master, or General, or even ‘Obes’ as Quinlan sometimes insisted on. He called him Obi-wan.

“Why are – I mean to say, can I ask why you, uh, need to go to the ‘nightbrothers’?” Cody asked, though he seemed unsure as to whether he should. Once more, he was torn between anger that his commander thought he had to ask permission to ask a simple question, and hope that he was finding the strength to ask anyways, that maybe he wasn’t so afraid anymore.

“I have an old debt to settle.” Obi-wan said cryptically, enjoying the brief look of bewilderment on his dear commander’s face. Sometimes, it was far too much fun to lean into the whole ‘mysterious jedi’ role. No matter how incorrect or stereotypical.

“I see sir, I hope it is easier to settle than some of the debts I’ve seen.” Cody said, smiling.

It took a whole three seconds of processing to realize that Cody had just made a joke. Not only that, he had made a joke about the debts his brothers were in, alluding to activities outside of what was permitted. And he had made it in front of Obi-wan. his general.

Delight sang through the force. He threw his head back and barked out a laugh, unable to restrain the sheer joy that was coursing through him. A wonderous feeling of pleased-shock-amazement radiated around Cody, mixing with the forces choir of ecstasy to make something truly beautiful. His commander was opening up.

“I can only imagine the ways in which your brothers sort out their debts. Anakin and Ahsoka are bad enough, two million brothers would certainly have a lot more – creativity in that area.” He said, shaking his head as he remembered Ahsoka demanding Anakin sing her favorite song at Karaoke to repay her for saving his life. The holovids he had taken that night were well worth the days of sulking.

Cody huffed, “They can be quite the handful, especially when Rex is involved.”

Obi-wan raised an eyebrow. Oh? He had always pegged Rex as an anchor for Anakin’s recklessness, curbing his padawans irrationality. There had certainly been a few times when the clone Captain had volunteered some… strange planes, but none of them had been entirely nonsensical!

Perhaps he had been wrong. Maybe Rex was simply able to hide his recklessness better than Obi-wans poor padawan. If that was the case, it was no wonder he had gotten on so well with Anakin and Ahsoka.

“Yes, I’d imagine so. Not to worry, the brothers we are going to see will hopefully be more open to resolving this debt in – nonlife-threatening ways.”

Hopefully. It was a word that had been appearing in his vocabulary more and more. Yes, Obi-wan certainly had a lot of things to hope for. Blind optimism had got him this far after all. he wasn't about to give it up now.

There were two strange men in the village. He had watched them come, treading the road that led to the nightsisters and greeting brother Viscus with a smile and a nod. One was calm, sturdy as a mountain weathering the years. He wore what looked like white armor and at first Feral had thought he might have been a droid. Then he had taken off his helmet to reveal a humanoid face with a scar on one side. The droid idea had quickly been scrapped.

The other one – well.

If the first man was the calm, he was the storm.

He felt wild, like rolling thunder hidden behind the mask of clouds. Or perhaps lightning that branched and burst in random fits of energy. He felt like movement, like the unknown, like change.

Feral was excited. Rarely were there strangers in his village, and now there were two. He wondered who they were, where they had come from, and why they were here. Of all the places to go in the universe, why would anyone want to come to Dathomir?

Savage didn’t seem quite so excited.

He had said that the men were sent by the nightsisters, and the nightsisters were never to be trusted. All they knew how to do was cause violence and pain, stealing brothers away from the tribe and making sure they never returned.  Feral had never met one before, so he couldn’t be sure. Savage wouldn’t lie to him though. Not about that.

If he was afraid of these strangers, then Feral should be too.

But he wasn’t. He couldn’t be. They just felt so new and interesting, a breath of air from far away, from somewhere better. Maybe they came from an ice world that was never hot or humid. Maybe they came from a place where they didn’t have to hunt for their food. Or maybe they lived on a world that only ate plants instead of meat.

Feral closed his eyes and tried to imagine eating only the Hwotha berries that they collected from the vines, or worse, the Mushlings that they used to make ink for tattoos. He wrinkled his nose.

Maybe they had nicer vegetation where they came from.

The point was, Feral was curious. Not only that, but he had a good feeling about this visit. Like something life changing was about to happen. That was unlikely though, if there were strangers here, it probably wasn’t for anything good. No matter how interesting they were. No matter how much he wanted to know about who they were and where they came from.

As the two men walked further into the village, brother Viscus leading them forward, he fought the urge to burst out with all of his questions. Savage had said not to draw attention to himself. If he did, then the strangers might decide to kill him. Or worse, take him back to the nightsisters. Feral didn’t know what the sisters would do to him, but he had asked Savage once, a long time ago. His face had gone all cold and closed off. He had never asked again.

Feral watched the odd procession come closer and closer, noticing - now that he could see them properly - that brother Viscus was almost deferential to the men. The leader of the tribe was being deferential to outsiders. They were taught from a young age that those outside of the clan were to be feared, defeated, and scorned. These men must be important, or incredibly strong, if they had earned brother Viscus’ respect. It was just another tally in the ‘don’t mess this up Feral or they might kill you’ box.

Savage tensed beside him as the strangers came closer and closer towards them. They had passed all of the other huts, all of the other nightbrothers who stared on in anticipation and fear. They too knew the implications of the leaders’ respect and the strangeness of this visit. Nightsisters came and went, he knew because Savage used to tell him stories about them, but off-worlders never made it past the witches.

Feral stopped breathing when they came to stand in front of him. By his side, Savage was a mix of tightly coiled fear and desperation. Whatever was about to happen, it wouldn’t be good.

“Savage,” brother Viscus said, “These two men are here to see you. I trust you will treat them with respect.”

Feral knew what that meant. Do everything they told you to. No matter how painful, no matter how humiliating or bizarre. Do not ask questions, put your head down and get on with it.

“Yes, brother Viscus.” Savage said through clenched teeth, probably trying to stop himself from shaking. No matter how hard he tried to hide it, Feral could always feel his fear. Always.

He gestured for the two men to follow, then walked back into their house. Feral trailed at his brothers’ heels, not wanting to be left outside. It was clear that Savage didn’t want him there, wanted him to stay safe outside, but Feral wasn’t about to leave him alone at the mercy of two strangers. Brothers didn’t do that to each other.

“Savage Opress?” The storm asked as he glanced around their hut. Feral was suddenly struck by how fine his robes looked compared to the packed dirt walls and the cloth that he and his brother wore. It was a random thought that he had never known before, feeling underdressed.

“Yes sir.” His Savage answered, head down, staring at the man’s feet.

He didn’t seem to mind though, running a hand through his ginger hair and sighing.

“My name is Obi-wan Kenobi. I’m here to talk to you about your brother.”

The change in Savage was immediate. His head snapped up, eyes locking onto those of the storm. All of the anxious energy in his body built to a climax, radiating off of him in waves of utter terror and desperation.

Feral was too shocked to feel anything. They were here to talk about him? But he hadn’t done anything! How did they even know who he was? Why, out of all of the nightbrother clans and all of the Zabraks in each one, were they here to talk about Feral?

“Whatever Feral has done, he didn’t mean to. Whatever it was, I’ll make up for it. Don’t take him, take me instead. I swear I’ll make it up to you. I’m stronger, faster, I can serve you better I swear – “

Savage’s desperate rumble was cut off when the man lifted a hand to silence him. For the first time in his life, Feral felt true anger. What right did they have to come in here and make Savage feel so desperate, so afraid? He knew his brother was trying to protect him, but he didn’t want Savage to be hurt either!

“Calm down Savage, it is not Feral I want to discuss. He has done no wrong. I promise you; no harm will come to either of you.” The storm – Obi-wan Kenobi, Feral recalled – said.

Savage calmed down a little at this, but still his energy was buzzing quietly with suspicion and anxiety.

The storm ran a hand through his hair again, seemingly at a loss for where to start. He looked over at his friend, the calm, who had been silent through everything. His face was impassive, as though he was till wearing the mask that was held under his arm. Now though, he smirked a little at the storm, eyebrows raising slightly.

The storm – Obi-wan Kenobi, Feral corrected himself – only shook his head fondly.

“Sit,” he ended up saying, “This conversation would be best had whilst sitting down.”

Suffice to say, Obi-wan had been incredibly confused when he had met the two Zabrak brothers. For one thing, Savage was a lot shorter than he remembered and he had a brief moment of amusement as he recalled Anakin claiming General Grievous was ‘smaller than he expected’. That phrase was certainly applicable in this case. Gone was the hulking monster, the muscled gladiator with a head of spikes. In its place, there was a young man who was desperate to protect his brother. Small and lean, likely from the rigors of the village, but strong both in form and in mind.

And then there was Feral.

The mystery brother, the one that Obi-wan hadn’t met. Honestly, he had been a little worried that the Zabrak would somehow be worse than both of his brothers combined. That maybe, in some way, he would be more terrifying and brutal than a deranged Maul and a viscous Savage put together.

He had, of course, been completely off the mark.

Obi-wan was humble enough to admit when he was wrong, and my, his predictions had been very, very wrong.

Feral was small, smaller than his brother at least with yellow skin that was intersected by the tell-tale Zabrak tattoos. His appearance was more or less what Obi-wan would have thought, though less terrifying and more adolescent. What was most disconcerting, was his force presence.

Savage was guarded, angry and scared and desperate to keep his brother safe. It was almost funny that his brother was nothing but curious. There were odd spikes of anxiety, and one dramatic leap to anger, but as far as he could tell Feral’s curiosity was the thing leading him.

He would make a good jedi, he realized suddenly. Both of them would. They were attached to each other, yes, but it was evident that they were both deeply compassionate and eager to protect and learn.

He wondered what had happened to cause such a drastic change in Savage. He tried not to think too hard about what became of Feral.

As they sat down in the small hut on Dathomir, it became harder and harder to ignore that question. Both of those questions. What had Sidious done that had broken these brothers so deeply and irrevocably? How many families had he torn apart and scattered across the galaxy?

It didn’t matter now, he told himself, he could change it. He had the chance to change all of it.

And Dathomir was where he would start.

“I am here,” He began once they were all sitting and not at risk of fainting from shock, “to discuss the life debt that your brother, Maul Opress, left me.”

Savage’s eyes shot up at the name, trying to process the information. The low thrum of anxiety and fear was back, Obi-wan would have to monitor it carefully. He didn’t want to traumatize the poor man.

He looked over to the younger of the brothers who was mouthing the name to himself as though testing the way it tasted. Now that he was thinking about it, Feral had probably never heard of Maul before. Why would he? If Savage knew, it would be a painful topic for him, one that he would likely not wish to share with his brother.

“And you want us to fulfil this life debt?” Savage asked, gathering strength around him as he pulled the force up like a blanket. It was instinctual, and a rather impressive display of control.

“In a way. It is not you who is indebted, but me.” He said with a wry grin.

At his side, Cody was buzzing with confusion. It mixed with the shock of the Zabraks, bringing the hut alive with energy that went straight through Obi-wan. Once again, he marveled the feeling of others near him, the comfort of their presence – so different from the empty sands of Tatooine.

“Years ago, on a planet called Naboo, I took the life of your brother to protect the queen whom he was trying to kill.” He explained. There was a brief feeling of understanding from Cody.

Ah.

He had likely seen the Holovids of that particular fight. Once the footage from the vaults had been – ehm – leaked by a certain Quinlan Vos, it had been impossible to remove from the Holonet. So, alas, he had been publicly congratulated as the Sith killer whilst trying to deal with the death of his master and raise a former slave.

It had certainly been an interesting few years.

“As payment for the life that I stole,” he continued, “Mother Talzin has asked me to provide both of you with a chance at something better.”

He paused for a moment, letting the information sink in. It was rather a lot to just suddenly be told and he sympathized with the brother’s shock and confusion that filled the room.

“If you would allow it,” He said, staring Savage in the eyes, speaking carefully and calmy so as not to frighten him, “I would like to take you and your brother off of Dathomir. Wherever you would like to go, I will bring you there. Whatever life you would like to have, I will ensure it finds you.”

Feral was practically bouncing with excitement at this point, eyes wide and thrilled at the prospect of a life off of Dathomir. Savage was still staring suspiciously, but there was another feeling growing around him. The zabrak tried to snuff it out, but still Obi-wan felt that dim light. It felt suspiciously like hope.

“I will return here in three days. You will have this time to think about what you would like to do, whether you would like to come with me or not. When I return, I will take whatever course of action you find most suitable, whether that be leaving you here or bringing you back to the Jedi temple.”

“You’re a Jedi?” Feral blurted out, eyes wide and shining with awe even as his force presence tinged with the heat of embarrassment. The tenseness returned to Savage at his brother’s outburst, and Obi-wan was quick to laugh light-heartedly, hopping to put them both at ease.

“Yes, I am a jedi. If you wish it, I am certain that a friend of mine would be willing to teach you some of our ways should you decide to accompany me.” He said, imagining the delight on Plo’s face when he learned that Obi-wan had gone against Yoda and brought him two more people to mother.

For a moment, Obi-wan was worried he had broken Feral. The Zabrak simply stared for an unnatural amount of time, jaw slightly ajar, and Obi-wan would have been worried if not for the way Savage rolled his eyes. It seemed even the crippling fear of a stranger in your hut couldn’t reign in the instinctual brotherly annoyance at younger siblings.

“We will think about it.” Savage said, then paused as he seemed to argue with himself over something. “My brother, Maul,” He began uncertainly, anxiousness creeping into every word, “He was lost, wasn’t he?”

Something twisted in Obi-wans chest. Savage, this man who he had seen cut down masters and padawans alike, was asking after a brother he had likely never met. He was asking the man who had killed him if it had been a mercy, if his brother was now at peace.

“Yes,” He said, trying to keep the sorrow from his voice, “he was lost in every way that mattered. But I know he cared deeply about his family. That much was never in question.”

Savage nodded, then did something Obi-wan had never expected. He stood and placed a hand on his chest, then bowed deeply. There was something oddly ceremonial about it, something that made it feel like more than just a bow of respect.

“Three days." He said, "You will have our answer in three days.”

Chapter Text

"All warfare is based on deception." - Season 4, Episode 15

As they walked back down the path to the nightsisters, Cody took the time to process the last few hours. Namely the two Zabraks who Obi-wan had just offered a ride to. Well, not exactly a ride, more like a free ticket to wherever the hell they wanted to go or whatever the hell they wanted to do. His General had been utterly serious about that, giving the two brothers anything they wanted.

It shouldn’t have been surprising, the man’s unfailing kindness, but for some reason it was. He kept waiting for Obi-wans façade to slip, for the Jedi to look at him in the way that the nat-borns did with that superior smirk and condescending gaze. It never did.

Cody looked to his left, surveying the man that walked beside him. He looked freer than he had been before, as though the resolution of that debt had lifted a weight from him. Not that Cody was surprised, it had been years since Naboo – he had checked the records. Of course Obi-wan would be happy to put that mess behind him. He was smiling gently now, almost unknowingly as his eyes wandered from the clear skies to the natural flora that grew around him. It was – nice, seeing him so calm.

“It almost makes you forget, doesn’t it?” He said, going for an absent tone as he tried to find an excuse to talk to his General. “That there’s a war going on.”

Obi-wan nodded, smile dimming a little and eyes clouding over. Cody cursed his terrible ability to immediately dampen a moment with his shit attempts at small talk.

“Almost. Though for many Jedi, this war will something unforgettable.” He said sadly, staring straight ahead, refusing to meet Cody’s gaze. Guilt flooded through his mind. He had only been trying to talk to his General and he had gone and reminded him that his people were out there, fighting and dying in a war.

“The jedi are strong warriors, they will survive this.” He tried to reassure, hoping he could back track out of whatever conversation he had unknowingly started.

It was a shock when Obi-wan began to laugh bitterly, hands clenching slightly at his sides. It was at this point that Cody truly began to panic. This was it; this was Obi-wan realizing Cody had pushed too far. This was the dropping of the other shoe.

“Warriors? You must have realized by now commander that unlike me, most Jedi are not suited to this war.” He said stiffly, eyes tight with stress. Even through his panic, even through that instinctual haze of fear, Cody realized the strangeness of that sentence. He replayed it in his head, trying to figure out what was off about the phrasing.

“What do you mean ‘unlike you’?” he asked, fully aware that he was pushing the limits of his General’s restraint, of the compassion that he seemed to exude. He should shut up; he should stop talking and hope that his General would forget about this interaction.

“What?” Obi-wan asked, confused and put off by this.

“You said ‘unlike me, most jedi are not suited to war’ what does ‘unlike me’ mean?” He insisted, words coming out faster than he was intending. If he slowed down, the reality of what he was doing, what he was asking would surely catch up with him.

“Well, my dear Cody, I have prior experience.”

Cody wasn’t sure what shook him more, Obi-wan’s casual use of ‘my dear’ with his name after it instead of simply ‘commander’ or the fact that his general had just admitted to being in a war before this one. Cody had read every file there was on his general, from the man defeating Darth Maul on Naboo to the year spent on Mandalore in his youth. Nowhere had there been a mention of Obi-wan fighting in a war.

“I thought the Jedi were peacekeepers,” he said as though remarking about the good weather they were having.

“We are – were. It’s complicated.” Obi-wan took a deep breath, collecting himself. “My years as a padawan were – unconventional. To say the least. My Master, Qui-Gon Jinn, was a good man, but not a very responsible one. This led to a number of situations where I was put in difficult positions.”

“And one of those ‘difficult positions’ was a war?” Cody inquired, holding back the bite in his voice. War was war, not some ‘difficult position’. He was pushing his luck. Obi-wan knew it too judging by the sharp look he sent Cody’s way.

“Yes.” He said curtly. They walked silently for a few moments before Obi-wan spoke again. “It was a civil war, on a planet called Melida/Daan. The two factions, Melida and Daan had been fighting for years, disagreeing on everything. Even the planets name.” Obi-wan chuckled again in that bitter way that sounded more like a harsh sob, moving to walk just ahead of Cody and positioning himself so that his face was shielded from view. “Me and my master had been sent to rescue another Jedi master who had been injured on her mission. Whilst carrying out this mission, we were a helped by a group of children calling themselves ‘the young’. They had grown tired of the fighting and ran away from their parents. Now they fought the adults, in the name of peace. They begged us to help them. I wanted to stay; my master had – other views.”

Other views? Other views on the children that were being massacred? Other views on whether or not to help the innocents of the planet as they were slaughtered?

“What happened?” Cody asked, though he was sure he didn’t really want to know. He had a feeling that things would get far worse.

“We fought about it. I drew my weapon on him, and he told me that if I made this choice, if I took the side of the young, then I would be turning my back on the Jedi order. So, I left the order, and he went back to coruscant with my lightsaber.”

Fuck.

“He left you in a war zone without a weapon? Kark. How old were you?”

“I was fourteen.”

Force, he would have been so young. The Vode age twice as fast as nat-borns, but Cody could easily imagine the seven-year-old cadets, so small and naïve. That was the age his General had been when he was left to fend for himself by that Demagolka.

It was a good thing that Jinn was already six feet under, Cody would have like to give him a good kick in the ass. He had left a child, he had left Obi-wan, in the middle of a warzone with no weapon, no way of defending himself. It made an unfortunate amount of sense. Obi-wan had always been competent, drawing up sound strategies, organizing the men, effortlessly handling all the aspects of command. Turns out his natural affinity for war was not so natural after all and instead stemmed from his traumatic past as a child soldier. Figures.

It seemed Cody had more in common with the man than he had originally realized.

And then he remembered something. That night, the night before when Obi-wan had slept next to him. When he had woken in the night to the man squirming and pleading and begging in a voice so desperate that Cody hadn’t been able to believe that it was the voice of his general.

‘They’re just kids, please’ he had begged, trying to prevent Cody from hurting the children he was trying to protect. The children who he had fought and died beside as their parents slaughtered them. It made sense, a horrible amount of sense.

“That was wrong of him.” Cody said, unsure of how to respond to the new insight. “Sir you were a child that was- “

“I know!” Obi-wans voice was oddly thick. “I know.”

The man was still turned away from him, walking just a few paces ahead, but Cody could still make out the slight tremor of his shoulders.

Kriff this, Cody thought. He quickened his pace, coming to walk side by side with him. For a few minutes he simply walked, his courage failing him before he steeled himself. He placed his hand on Obi-wans shoulder, not saying anything.

“You didn’t know him like I did, he was a good man. He just – just….”

“It’s ok sir. You don’t have to explain.”

They walked together for a moment, basking in the silence. It wasn’t awkward, just peaceful.  Cody figured his general needed some time to pull himself back together. He had never been so vulnerable in Cody’s presence before. Honestly, Cody doubted that the man had ever allowed himself to be vulnerable in front of anybody.

“You know, when I was a cadet, the Prime used to train me and my batch himself” It was painful to talk about, a bitter spot in Cody’s memories, but the General had been so open. Cody owed him that much.  “He was caring at first, though strict. He let us call him Buir. At least until Boba came along. Then he was just the prime, and we were just clones. I hated him for it, for what he did to us, to my brothers.”

It didn’t seem like it was enough, but Obi-wan had stopped trembling beneath him so he counted it as a win.

The air whooshed as Obi-wan turned to face him, stopping them both in the middle of that winding path. His eyes were grief stricken and creased with hurt, but his smile was soft. Suddenly Cody was aware of how close they were, close enough that he could feel the Generals breath on his cheek. Cody had never realized before how much shorter Obi-wan was than him. Had never truly seen the freckles that lined the Generals nose. Had never taken the time to really look at the various shades of blue that made up the color of Obi-wans eyes.

“You are a good man, Cody; did you know that?”

Cody stuttered, unable to think past the praise and the warmth of breath and the respect, the openness that Obi-wan was showing him. This was it, he realized. Not the moment that Obi-wan looked at him with contempt, but the moment when they looked at each other as people. Because for the first time, the man in front of him wasn’t his General or his superior, hell, he wasn’t even a jedi. He was Obi-wan. A man who was calm and wild by turns, kind and compassionate and fierce. The man who Cody had seen walk through the doors of Kamino and look at him as a person.

“Sometimes I think there are no more good people left in the world.” Obi-wan continued, wistfulness woven into every word “Do me a favor, Cody, never stop proving me wrong.” And now it was his hand on Cody’s shoulder, not the other way around. The heat was striking, like for the first time Cody was seeing the sun.

Well, who was he to refuse such an order?

“As you wish, Obi-wan.” He said, and then they continued on. They were no longer silent but chatting quietly about this and that, padawans and brothers and Zabraks who were a mix of both.

Dresdema smiled as the two men came wandering back to the nightsisters, bumping shoulders and laughing as they walked. They felt closer in the force, the jedi not so full of grief and the spaceman not so fearful. In fact, it was fondness radiating off of them, not anxiety or hurt. It was a sort of peacefulness that only adoration could bring; looking at another as one might look upon the moon.

She knew what needed to be done.

It was time to move on to stage two of ‘help the spacemen get his head out of his ass and fuck his jedi friend already’. It was a working title, but she thought it conveyed the essence of her plan. It was clear that the two were skirting around each other like a loth cat and a loth wolf, and really, they were hardly going to figure it out on their own. So, it was up to her to intervene. She had already recruited Merrin who was far too excited to be plotting and scheming. Dresdema was certain that her sister thought this was all very romantic. Hopefully she wouldn’t try playing matchmaker with anyone else. Though, Dres had to admit, it would be highly amusing.

“Hey spaceman!” She called to Cody, laughing when his expression immediately turned flat and deadpan. “How was the trip? Did you and the Jedi enjoy yourselves?” She asked, then wiggled her brows, just to mess with him.

She was rewarded with a rather rude gesture from Cody and a laugh from the jedi, though both were now turning red. Cody was flushing at the cheeks and his Jedi’s ears had turned the color of the nightsister robes. This was going to be far too fun, she realized. If both of them were head-over-heels for each other, and neither of them knew about the other feelings – oh. Oh, the power she had. Dres was going to enjoy winding both of them up but she really hoped they figured things out soon because the longing puppy-dog looks they were sending each other were going to drive her insane.

“It was perfectly satisfactory.” The jedi said in answer to her question, giving away no signs that he understood the double meaning of it. Oh? So that was how it was. Well, Mother Talzin had called him the negotiator, it shouldn’t surprise her that he was willing to trade barbs and jabs.

“Hmm, did you use that silver tongue of yours?” she asked. Cody choked. “You know, to get what you wanted?”

“The nightbrothers were perfectly willing to negotiate and agreed to my terms.” The jedi said, face completely impassive. The poor spaceman on the other hand was practically buzzing with embarrassment by his side. She figured she would give the poor man a break, giving a simple ‘good’ before she asked her next question.

“You wanna head to the shooting range and see how rusty you are?”

The change was immediate, embarrassment replaced by determination and uncertainty replaced with unshakeable surety. Cody grinned widely, and Dres returned the action.

“You’re on.”

As they said goodbye to the jedi and grabbed their weapons, Dres couldn’t help but think of how strange it was to have friends. Of course she had friends in the nightsisters, but they were her sisters, her family. Cody and the jedi were different. Talking to them was like learning how to walk, or shoot her bow, unfamiliar but exhilarating and wonderfully good fun.

She wasn’t usually one for sentimental ponderings and all of that nonsense. She would leave the emotional stuff to Merrin, her sister certainly seemed to enjoy the drama of such things. Just this once though, she allowed herself to be thankful to the fanged god for bringing the two men to her. Even if they were endlessly frustrating in their obliviousness to each other’s feelings. It was still nice to have someone she could think of as a friend.

“You’re ready?” Dres asked Cody as she picked up his blaster. After hours of practice, she had finally managed to consistently hit the target. Not the bullseye, but at least she was hitting the target. It was certainly a big change from a plasma bow. Not just the weight, but the speed and the movement, aiming and reloading. All of it was strange to her. But she was learning.

“When am I not?” He said, settling in beside her as she lined up her shot. He drew the string back, form almost right, though he was lacking the confidence brought on through years of training. She turned back to the target.

“Three,” she said, steadying her feet as Cody did the same.

“Two,” he continued as they waited in that moment of tightly sprung tension.

“One!”

Obi-wan was finishing up his daily meditation when Dresdema approached him, her presence was wound tight like a spring, ready to burst forward at a moment’s notice. It was not a feeling he had felt often on her.

It was strange that she had approached him at all. They weren’t that close, though he could tell she enjoyed their little verbal spar earlier, she got on far better with Cody. They had the same dry humor, the same sharp wit. And yet here she was, coming to him with something akin to fear circling around her.

He pushed to his feet but before he could open his mouth to greet her, she pushed ahead.

“Your clone has something dark in his head.” She said in one rushed breath. It took a minute for his brain to process.

Cody.

Cody had something dark in his head? Like what, a compulsion? No, it couldn’t be. Cody hadn’t come into contact with any Sith, not in this timeline anyways. Unless one of the nightsisters –

“I think you’d better explain,” he said seriously instead of voicing the swirling thoughts in his mind. He couldn’t afford to jump to conclusions not when it was his commander who was hanging in the balance. Not when it was Cody.

Dresdema took a breath.

“I didn’t know what it was at first, but I could feel it when he was close.” She admitted, anger tinging her voice that was directed towards herself, “I thought it was something to do with his helmet or – I don’t know. I didn’t think it would be in his head.”

She ran a hand through her hair, the side that wasn’t shaved of course. His brain was picking up on those unimportant details, he realized, because it was struggling to process the big ones.

“I don’t know what it is, but its dark. It feels like – like smoke. One minute it’s there and the next, there is nothing, like it slipped through your fingers. I know you think it was one of us that put whatever it is there – “

He opened his mouth to protest, he trusted the nightsisters, as strange and unthinkable as that was, but she bowled over him.

“No listen, I understand. But this is unlike anything I’ve ever felt before, see for yourself. Look for it on the right side of his head, just behind his ear. You will feel it.” She said.

He didn’t stick around to hear what else she had to say.

His feet carried him over the ground, faster than he thought he could move. There was something dark in Cody’s head. There was something dark in Cody’s head.

Whatever put it there was going to pay. Revenge wasn’t the jedi way, but justice certainly was. And if anyone hurt his commander, he was going to get justice. One way or another, even if he had to search the galaxy for whoever hurt him, he would get justice.

Cody looked panicked when his eyes locked onto Obi-wan’s.

Probably because Obi-wan had hurtled round the corner into him, knocking the poor man off of his feet. He couldn’t think about that though, not now. Without explaining anything, without answering Cody’s stuttering questions and concerns, he placed a hand on either side of the man’s head.

Behind the ear.

Dresdema had said that was where he could find it.

He opened his senses and let Cody’s presence fill him up.

Sturdy as a mountain, unmoving, unyielding. A stone in a river, worn away only by time. Deep calm, the buzzing sense of concern for his general, and then –

Darkness.

He drew back.

Dresdema had been right. She was right.

There was something in his commander’s head. But it didn’t feel like smoke, it felt like nothing. Like there was a part of Cody that simply wasn’t there.

“General? Are you alright? Obi-wan?” His commanders voice pulled him back to the world momentarily, and he patted the man absently on his shoulder.

“Just fine my dear, everything is fine.”

Except there was a part of Cody’s brain that was missing. It was impossible, and yet it was. There was no way it made sense, no matter how he looked at it –

But no.

It did make sense, if he thought about it, if he turned it around in his head long enough.

His knees gave out from under him, a panicked voice ringing in his ear, but that didn’t matter. They had found out at the end of the war that it was the Sith who had ordered the clones. It had been Dooku who had made the request. The question of course was why. Why would he invest in an army for the opposite side?

It all made sense now.

The army was never for the opposite side. It was for the Sith. It was always for the Sith. They had put something in the clones’ heads that had made them attack their Jedi. Something dark and empty and wrong.

And it hadn’t been their fault.

The clones hadn’t known, couldn’t have known.

Cody hadn’t shot him.

He laughed; head thrown back as it burst manically out of him. Cody was kneeling by his side now, shaking his shoulders desperately, but he couldn’t stop laughing.

His commander hadn’t meant to kill him. The clones hadn’t betrayed the jedi. He hadn’t driven them away.

Thank force, oh thank force.

His hand found Cody’ shoulder and he squeezed it gently. A smile found its way onto his lips, and Obi-wan let it grow wider and wider.

“I think I may need to speak to Master Shaak Ti.” He said.

If there was something dark in Cody, then it must be in all the clones. He had to be sure. There was no room for error. He couldn’t fail them.

Not again.

“Oh, and if you don’t mind my dear,” he said, “I think I may feint now.”

And then everything faded to inky black, as dark and as empty as the space in Cody’s head

Chapter Text

"The truth about yourself is always the hardest to accept." - Season 6, Episode 1

Cody fell to his knees beside the unconscious man, instinct taking over as he felt for a pulse, scrabbling at the man’s high collar and deflating in relief when he found one. What the hell had happened? One minute he had just been walking down the endless corridors, the next his general had come flying round the corner in a blind panic. He had ignored the fluttery feeling in his chest when Obi-wan had placed a hand on either side of his head, eyes closed, and mouth set in grim determination.

And then the man had fallen into what seemed like a full-scale breakdown.

Carefully, he maneuvered Obi-wan into the recovery position, running on the training that had been drilled into him over and over on Kamino. It would be a catastrophe if his General died choking on his own tongue of all things. It was such a ludicrous thought that his fear was momentarily forgotten. He could just imagine the news headlines; General Obi-wan Kenobi, Sith slayer and jedi master, choked to death on tongue. 

It was at that moment that Dresdema came hurtling around the very corner his general had come from. She stopped in front of them, eyes flickering from his own to the unconscious form of Obi-wan, lying motionless on the ground. The worry on her face flickered to annoyance, then to fondness, then back to worry.

“Stupid Jedi,” She muttered as she came towards Cody, kneeling down beside him. She leant over Obi-wan, feeling for his breath and taking his pulse. He was almost offended that she though he hadn’t already done that.

“Dresdema, do you know what just happened?” He asked carefully, still trying to wrap his head around the past few minutes. She didn’t seem to be listening. She laid her hand on Obi-wans forehead and Cody got the distinct impression that there was some force nonsense going on. It was in the way the air seemed to still, like it was waiting for the storm to arrive, charged with energy but utterly calm. Maybe she was trying to wake him up? He had heard that some force users could use it to heal people.

Dres muttered under her breath as she scrunched her face up in concentration. “Idiot couldn’t have waited, could he? Had to go and faint like some emotional lady.” Cody resisted the urge to point out that she herself was an emotional lady. For some reason, he didn’t think that observation would please her.

“Dres,” He tried again, putting a hand on her shoulder this time to try and gain her attention. He needed to know what happened, had to be able to help Obi-wan. His general was strong, he wouldn’t have had a breakdown for nothing. If Dresdema knew what had happened, Cody would have to make her tell him. His method of getting her to talk to him, however, didn’t seem to be working.

“DRES!” He shouted, leaning right over Obi-wan and into her eyeline.

Her eyes shot up to his at the same moment Obi-wan bolted upright, nocking heads with Cody as he did so. He let out an ‘oof’ of surprise, and through the obvious fear she was feeling, Dres gave an amused laugh at both of their idiocy.

Obi-wan reeled back again, clutching his head and looking around in vague befuddlement and confusion. After a few moments of this, his eyes seemed to adjust to the world around him, recognition sharpening them from the murky haze of bewilderment.

“Dresdema, Cody” he said shakily, steadying himself as he pushed into a sitting position, “I do apologize for my – untimely unconsciousness.”

Dres snorted at this, and Cody huffed a little at the man’s lack of self-preservation and fancy wording – an obvious attempt to downplay the situation. Not that it worked. It was certainly very Obi-wan though, you could set his General on fire and he would comment on what lovely weather they were having.

“You stupid man.” Dres said, still laughing. “You couldn’t have waited before you decided to pass out, hmm?”

Now it was Obi-wan who was laughing, crossing his legs beneath him so that he was sitting more comfortably. “And whyever would I do that? This way I had a lovely commander to catch me instead of a wicked witch.”

Heat poured into Cody’s face, and he fought to keep it from showing. He really, really, hoped the rumors about jedi being mind readers were false. He wasn’t sure he wanted anyone to know what he was thinking. He tried to stamp those thoughts out before opening his mouth again.

Cody cleared his throat. “Does anybody want to tell me what just happened?”

Obi-wan winced. Dresdema frowned in that not-quite-worry-not-quite-annoyance way. Neither of them spoke. Instead, they locked eyes, then glanced away. Then locked eyes, then glanced away again.

Well, that was worrying.

They were clearly trying to decide whether it was a good idea to tell him or not, which meant they either thought Cody couldn’t handle the information, it was a private matter, or it was about Cody himself. Or perhaps it was a mix. He couldn’t be sure.

Eventually, Dresdema filled the silence that hung between them. “well, the thing is…” She began, then seemed to change her mind, trailing off again. A few moments passed before she visibly steeled herself, straitening her posture. “There is something dark in your head.” She said, all in one breath as if she needed to get the action over and done with. It took a minute for him to process this sentence.

Something dark in his head? What did that even mean? He was certain it was some kind of force thing; it always was. Dark was a bad thing though in the force, wasn’t it?

“What.” He said, trying to understand.

Obi-wan sighed, sending Dresdema an annoyed look. It was obvious that he hadn’t wanted her to tell him this.

“Cody, I need you to understand that none of what I’m about to say is your fault. I am not going to punish you, or send you back to kamino, or anything of that sort. Do you understand me?”

Cody blinked. In truth, he didn’t understand. He didn’t understand at all. He wasn’t sure why his general was telling him this, or what it meant to have something dark in your head. Was he defective maybe? That had to be it. It would explain why Obi-wan was mentioning Kamino.

Cody nodded and tried not to feel guilty about the lie. He really, really, didn’t understand.

“Not so long ago, the jedi discovered that the clones had been ordered by the Sith, not by the order. We didn’t understand why. But now we do. Dresdema found something dark in your head. I believe that it may be some sort of compulsion left by the Sith, something that could force you to betray the republic.”

Cody swallowed.

That couldn’t be true. Could it? He would never betray the republic, even after everything they had done to his brothers. He was loyal, all of the clones were. It was how they were raised; hell, it was how they were bred. From Mandalorian blood, honourable and loyal to the clan. Obi-wan didn’t think he would betray him, did he? But he had said it was a compulsion. That meant he could be forced to do it against his will.

And then Cody did understand, he understood it all.

He had been wrong in thinking he was more than a clone, in thinking he was alive. Cody wasn’t a person after all, wasn’t an individual. He was a weapon, made to kill the jedi and the republic. He had been made to stab the only person who had ever cared about him in the back, manufactured to murder and betray. Was he even capable of feeling things or was it all just a plot by the Sith to trick the jedi into trusting him?

He didn’t know how, he didn’t know why, but he knew that what Obi-wan was saying was true. He was no better than a droid, mindless metal made to be cannon fodder.

“Kill me.” He blurted out, and Obi-wan flinched.

“I’m not going to do that Cody.”

That made no sense. He was a threat, a liability, an unknown variable that could turn on his general at any time. Keeping him around wasn’t logical, not when the thing in his head could be triggered at any moment. He gritted his teeth.

“You have to. Obi-wan I don’t want to hurt you. What if something happens to make me? I’m a threat. Don’t you understand that?”

Images were flashing through his head unbidden. Going back to the hut with one bed and being forced to strangle Obi-wan in his sleep. Something evil guiding his hands as he lifted a blaster to his General’s head. Panic in blue eyes that mixed with betrayal as Cody choked the life out of them. He wanted to throw up.

“Cody, I know you would never intentionally hurt me. I promise, I know that now. We’ll find a way to help you, to help all of the clones. It won’t come to your death, I swear it.”

Frustration built, like water in a dam that was about to burst its banks. Obi-wan wasn’t listening, he was hearing, but he wasn’t listening. Didn’t he understand that Cody would rather die than hurt him? Didn’t he see that he was the priority? Not the republic or the war, but him?

“General, this is my choice. I’ve not had many of those, this one is mine. I would rather die than hurt you.”

Obi-wan looked to be on the verge of tears, a fact that would have been concerning if Cody wasn’t at that point himself. Dresdema was looking on with pity and anxiety, like she was holding herself back from jumping into the conversation.

“That’s not fair Cody. You think I don’t feel the same? You think I wouldn’t rather die than hurt you either?”

And of course that was the crux of the issue. His General’s kindness. His ability to see the best in people, even in enemies. He would have laughed if he hadn’t been so completely devastated.

“I know you don’t want to Obi-wan. I know that. But you need to. You can’t put yourself at risk, you can’t – “

“I can’t lose you again!” Obi-wan shouted, and then the tears that had been collecting in his eyes were falling with angry splashes.

Silence reigned.

Obi-wan was breathing heavily, on the verge of fainting again or perhaps having another panic attack. The wrinkles around his eyes made him look far older, far more tired than Cody had thought possible, and he was clutching Dresdema’s shoulders far too tightly for it to be comfortable.

It was then that Cody knew he had lost this battle. He knew that he could not ask such a thing of his general, even if it was for the best. Even though he wanted to keep Obi-wan safe, it was comforting to know that he cared about Cody as much as Cody cared about him. It was almost a relief to know that he wasn’t about to die.

“Okay.” He said. “Okay Obi-wan.”

He leaned forward and pulled the man into a hug, exhausted emotionally and doing the only thing his brain could focus on. Arms fastened around him, and he knew he had chosen correctly. It was like being back on Kamino, the contact of his brothers as they tried to forget the horror of their training. But now it was Obi-wans breath in his ear, Obi-wans body that was pressed against his, Obi-wans arms around his neck. Cody had never felt anything like it before.

“If you two are quite finished your lovers spat,” Dresdema said in an uncharacteristically shaky voice, shocking both of them from that moment, “I think I might have a solution to your problem.”

Cody pulled back from Obi-wan to look at her.

“I was able to feel the darkness because I recognized it, such things are familiar to the nightsisters.” She explained, her voice losing its shakiness and gaining confidence as she spoke. “Lucky for us, we happen to be in a settlement with one of the oldest and most powerful nightsisters there is.” She finished, smirking a little at Obi-wan as if she was mocking him for not coming to the same conclusion as her sooner.

“Talzin.” He said, tone a mixture of realisation and wonder. “Of course. However did I manage to overlook that? She may be able to mitigate the effects of the compulsion, or at least find out what it actually is.”

Dresdema nodded. Cody was still utterly lost. All this goddam force osik was lost on him. He did gather that the tall scary lady might have to poke around in his brain. It would be worth it though if she could get rid of whatever the hell was in his head.

“Dres, will you take Cody to Talzin for me? I have to contact master Shaak Ti and warn her of this development.” Obi-wan said, and Cody felt as though he should be more afraid than he was at the prospect of talking to the scary witch lady by himself. Well, not entirely by himself, he had Dresdema.

“Come on then spaceman,” Dres said, standing up and offering Cody a hand. He grasped it and hauled himself to his feet, careful not to accidently pull her down on top of him. “Let’s go see my mother.”

“Master Kenobi, to what do I owe the pleasure?” Shaak asked, her voice a calming lull, almost like the relaxed purring of a loth cat as it lazed in the sun. Obi-wan wished for a brief moment that she was actually here instead of just a hologram contacting him from millions of miles away. Perhaps then he would be able to draw strength from her force presence, deep and lush as a tree that delved branches into the soil. But alas, it was not so.

“Master Ti, I apologize for this interruption but I’m afraid this matter is of the utmost importance, as I’m sure you have gathered.”

Shaak nodded. The com code he was using for this call was heavily encrypted after all – one of the most secure lines that the jedi temple owned, and one of the oldest. There was no conceivable way that Sidious could track it, and Sidious could not know of this conversation. Not if Obi-wan wanted to keep those around him alive. Shaak Ti was more than smart enough to realise the purpose of this call was far from a friendly get-together, and utterly confidential.

At her nod of understanding, he continued. “I have recently stumbled across a piece of information that may be the key to understanding this war, and the Sith themselves. I have not yet spoken to the council about this for I fear those close to the order may unwittingly betray us. I have come to you directly because this information pertains to the production of clone troopers, an area in which you are the expert. If anyone can act on this information, it is you.”

As he spoke, the look on master Ti’s face became increasingly alarmed. Not that he blamed her, it was rather a lot to take in. He waited for a few moments to allow her to process this, watching for the small nod of her head that signaled he should continue.

“And what is it you have found master Kenobi? What could be so potentially damning that even the council cannot know of it?” she asked, doing a wonderful job of keeping the panic he knew she was feeling from showing. Even when they were young, she had been excellent at controlling her emotions.

He sighed and ran a hand through his hair, trying to think of the best way to put the machinations of the Sith and the destruction of the entire jedi order.

“There is some sort of compulsion in the clone’s head. I am unsure as to what it is, but I believe it may be placed there during their production. You may recall that we are as of yet unsure why the clones were ordered,” Shaak nodded, hints of worry seeping out from behind the stony mask she had secured, “I have reason to believe that it was the Sith who ordered them, not the Jedi. This compulsion would force them to betray the republic, to betray everything they have been fighting for.”

Master Ti stared at him blankly and he could practically see the cogs turning in her head. “That is quite the assertion master Kenobi.” She said, voice carefully neutral, “I have spent many weeks here on kamino, I know the clones. They would not betray us.”

He swallowed the desperate and disbelieving laugh that crawled up his throat.

Did she think he wasn’t aware of that? Did she truly believe he didn’t know how crazy this sounded? He couldn’t exactly tell her he was a time traveler from the future and had seen it all play out before though, not if he didn’t want to be thrown into a psych ward.

“I am aware of that Master Ti, the clones are unknowing pawns in this game, I do not blame them. I want to help them, as a matter of fact.” He said, annoyance seeping into his tone. She seemed to accept this veiled admonishment, face losing some of its suspicion in a silent apology. “I am not asking you to act on this information, only to investigate it. If I am wrong, then we have nothing to fear. But if I am right….”

The consequences were unspeakable. How could he put into words what he had seen, what he had felt as the force pulled itself apart in agony, thousands of voices screaming out in pain and betrayal and fear. Over 10,000 jedi had been slaughtered, murdered by their comrades, their friends, and in Aayla Secura’s case, their lovers.

It seemed he didn’t need to explain it though, Shaak was already nodding, wearing her ‘its-time-to-make-a-plan-for-every-possible-situation’ face. “I see.” She said, fingers rising to support her chin, “I thank you for trusting me with this information, master Kenobi. I will do what I can to confirm it. Rest assured, I will not allow this to go unchecked.”

He sagged, a bone deep relief filling him accompanied by a deep sense of pure exhaustion. It was done. He was going to find out for certain what had hurt his men, what had caused the destruction of the order. If he was lucky, it would lead the order right to Palpatine. At least then he wouldn’t have to try and explain how exactly he knew the chancellor was a Sith lord. Obi-wan wasn’t sure ‘I just do’ was going to be good enough.

“Thank you Shaak, I appreciate your help.”

“And I am glad to give it. May the force be with you master Kenobi, and some well earned rest.” She added, smirking slightly to cover the faint hint of concern in her eyes. The mother hen in her seemed to have won out in the end.

“And with you master Ti.”

The holocall cut off and he was once again left alone in a hut in the middle of nowhere with nothing but questions plaguing his mind.

Talzin had lived for many years, perhaps not as long as some nightsisters in her coven, but long enough to know that the pure hatred that flowed through her veins – bubbling like magma beneath pale skin – was not helping her current situation. Anger was a powerful tool, but only when controlled and finely tuned to ones motives. This shrieking chaos would bring nothing but pain.

The nerve of the Sith. Not only stealing away her sons and causing them agonizing deaths but disrupting the natural order of the fanged god himself! It was an insult to her people, to her culture. To create a being and implant them with darkness, bastardizing the magicks of the nightsisters and warping the power that the fanged god provided. Such a thing was forbidden even amongst the most experimental covens.

She had turned a blind eye to Sidious for far too long, allowed his destructive nature to exist in spite of its danger to her people. His lack of understanding of the magicks that he was attempting to replicate would destroy them all. The nightsisters grew up steeped in the dark side, understanding it as the tool it was. The fanged god and the winged goddess provided them with such a tool to maintain the security of the clan, and so the nightsisters were able to stay sane whilst using its power. They were not drawn in by passion or madness. But the Sith had seen this power and taken it for themselves, refusing to learn the ways of such a thing before turning it on their enemies. Thus, their madness festered and burned, tearing away all which desired.

Talzin had never seen this as a problem. The Sith would destroy themselves inevitably and then their thievery and disrespect would be repaid in blood. Not from their enemies as they had likely imagined, but from those they had once held dear to them, and from the veins that were once their own. Now though, it was impossible to ignore the threats they provided to her people. Now, she had seen it all play out in the head of a man who had only ever tried so very hard to save people. She had seen him reach for the force as though it was a friend, watched him struggle as the fanged god beckoned him to the dark. In the end, she had seen a waste of life.

Mother Talzin wasn’t kind. She wasn’t compassionate, nor particularly gentle, even with her kin. But she was not wasteful with the gift of life that the gods provided, and she certainly wasn’t stupid. The only way to protect her clan was to destroy the sith, and the best way to destroy the Sith was to help the Jedi.

“I cannot remove it.” She said to the echo, though the Jedi order seemed to prefer the term ‘clone’. There was a brief moment where she watched him deflate, hanging his head as the hope in his eyes crumbled away to nothing. Now there was only despair and resignation. Talzin almost pitied him, but her amusement outweighed this. Honestly, did all humans give up on things so easily?

“I can, however, create a kind of block. It will not erase the compulsion, but it should make it harder to activate and therefore allow you more control over yourself should this occur.”

The clone looked up in shock, a serious of emotions flashing through the force. Gratitude, joy, and a again, that near blinding hope.

“I don’t understand,” Dresdema said from where she was leaning against the wall, “If it is a compulsion how come you can’t just remove it?”

Though Dresdema was skilled, it was moments like these that Talzin was reminded of her inexperience. She had picked up on the darkness but had not been able to figure out why it was so strange, why it felt so empty and why it was such a great insult to Dathomirs magick.

“Because it is not just a compulsion, it is not pure magick. It seems as though the Sith have tainted it with organic material, contaminating the purity of its power.”

Dresdema drew back, knowing as well as Talzin that such a thing was forbidden, and for good reason.

“But that – “

“Yes. It is against the very teachings that our magicks are founded on.”

“Is it dangerous?” The clone asked, looking wildly between the two of them. Though there was fear and worry in him, there was a streak of determination that he seemed to be gripping to. Hmm, perhaps he doesn’t give up so easily after all.

“Not to you, and not to your Jedi friend. It is only a danger to the one who creates it, and in this case that benefits us.”  

The clone nodded, seemingly satisfied with this answer. Talzin was rather satisfied with it as well, a threat to the Sith indeed. They had just proved themselves to be an enemy of the nightsisters, and it was as they always say, the enemy of my enemy is my grudging ally from the future who I only trust because I’ve seen into his mind.

“Tell the Jedi that I have a proposition for him. The Sith have gone unchecked for to long. Should the Jedi move against them, the nightsisters will want their pound of flesh.”

The clone nodded before standing up and rushing off back to his beloved, issuing her a grateful ‘thank you’ and a Mandalorian bow as he did so. A strange one to be sure, but Talzin found herself liking the boy anyhow.

Dresdema was still standing by the wall, assessing her with those keen eyes.

“Are you sure this is wise mother? The jedi and the clone are good people, trustworthy, but this is war that you are proposing.” She said, further proving to Talzin that this course of action was the correct one. If things were left as they to play out, it would not only be the clone and the jedi who suffered. She would not - could not, lose her daughters again. The clan would survive, the nightsisters would persevere.

“I am certain.”

Chapter Text

"In war, truth is the first casualty." - Season 2, Episode 14

There was something strange happening on Kamino. It was in the air itself, saltiness now tinged with something sharper, something dangerous. CT-5385 should now, it was all he had ever known. The rushing seas, the raging storms that sometimes shook the very foundations of the building, and of course his brothers making trouble for themselves whenever possible.

(The kaminoans too had always been a staple in his life. Their unfeeling eyes and bony hands, the supercilious smirk as they grasped the scalpel and – )

The point being, CT-5385 – or Tup as his brothers had taken to calling him – knew kamino like the back of his hand. Or rather, the back of Jango Fett’s hand, his hand had never really belonged to him after all. He knew the schedules of every longneck, the training rota for every batch, and he knew what parts of the production the Jedi oversaw.

 Never before had the Jedi master been so involved in younger cadets, those still in their tubes as well. The woman had spent the better part of two days carefully watching them, eyes cold and calculating. What she was looking for with that assessing gaze, he didn’t know. It was disconcerting though, such a sudden change.

Tup liked predictability; it was what kept him safe. He knew what the Kaminoans did to clones who talked back, so he made a point of being quiet. He knew that Dogma would likely sock him in the jaw for breaching standard procedures, so he kept his head down. He knew that the Jedi would smile at him if he looked at her, so he tried to run into General Ti as often as possible.

See? Survival. It had kept him alive so far anyways, but it only worked until that predictability was broken.

He was not expecting Jedi master Shaak Ti to go sneaking around Kamino. He was most certainly not expecting her to break into one of the Kaminoans laboratories. But more than anything, he wasn’t expecting to walk into the very room that she happened to break into and come face to face with her hacking into one of the holo files.

Predictability kept him alive, but how on earth was he supposed to have predicted this predicament?

“Uh, Hi. General.” He said as her eyes locked onto his, the tension in her body reminding him far too much of a predator. Togruta were carnivores, his mind supplied helpfully, so it wasn’t any wonder that she looked as if she wanted to eat him alive.

“Um, I’ll uh, I’ll just be going now.” He said, trying to carefully back out of the door. He could find another room to hide in, away from the prying eyes of Kaminoans and strange jedi alike.

“Wait.” General Ti said, freezing him in his tracks. It was instinct to obey orders from superiors, Tup couldn’t help the way his body stilled at the sharpness of her words. “CT-5385 is it? You have rather unfortunate timing.” She said, somehow managing to identify him by appearance alone as if he wasn’t an exact replica of his brothers. She was a Jedi though, so he really shouldn’t be surprised. They always seemed to just know things that others didn’t.  

Tup had to think quickly if he wanted to survive this encounter. Master Ti clearly didn’t want anyone to see what it was she was doing and was likely trying to avoid the Kaminoans. Tup was a threat to this as he was an unknown, someone who may be more loyal to the longnecks than to her. If she left him alive, he may be convinced to tell them. So, he had to reassure her that he distrusted those Demagolka as much as she clearly did.

“I didn’t mean to interrupt General. I can see this is important. Far above my level of clearance, probably above the Kaminoans level of clearance too.” He said, trying to ensure it sounded like a proposition instead of a threat. If she thought he was threatening to give her up to them, he was done for.

She only laughed though, sharp teeth poking out from behind her lips. “Is that so? In that case, perhaps you may be able to – assist me with this.”

Nope. Okay yeah, no. He didn’t like the sound of that. He didn’t like the sound of that at all. It wasn’t like Tup could just refuse a direct order from a jedi though. It looked as though he had gone and gotten himself trapped in an impossible situation. He did the only thing he could think of doing. “Of course, General, what do you need me to do?”

She seemed to assess him for a while, eyes boring into his own. Though he wasn’t certain, he could almost swear he heard something like her voice in his head, just for a brief second. It was a bizarre feeling, but the Jedi were bizarre so really it wasn’t so much of a shock. Even though he was certain he could hear her saying something in his head, he wasn’t able to catch what. All he could hear were vague whispers and mutterings.

After what felt like an eternity, General Ti spoke again. “The files.” She said, “I cannot access them. I believe the Kaminoans have something in them that they do not want me to see.” She said slowly, gaging how Tup reacted. He tried not to, attempting to control both the confusion and fear bubbling inside him. Why would the Jedi be restricted from the files? They were the clients, surely they would have access to all the information on the clones they themselves had ordered.

“I unfortunately have never been an expert at slicing, it was never one of my best skills.” She continued, stalking towards him in a manner that was reminiscent of one of those big cat things that Tup had seen once in a picture one of the older clones brought in. “You on the other hand, graduated top of your class for such a thing.” She pondered this for a moment, then grinned slightly “Perhaps it was the will of the force that brought you here to me. I would ask that you help me slice into these records and uncover what exactly the Kaminoans are holding so close to their scaly chests.”

Tup thought for a minute. It all came down to the same thing it always did – predictability. He didn’t trust the kaminoans as far as he could throw them, which he estimated to be around a few centimetres. They were dishonest, slimy creatures who wormed their way out of trouble whenever possible. Them hiding something from the jedi was predictable, and therefore believable. However, a jedi master slicing into a clone record that they should already have access to in order to complete some nefarious purpose was unlikely, and so probably false.

That lead him to one choice.

“Of course, General.”

She smiled at him, a genuine one instead of the little warm things she had sent him in passing.

He sat down across from the computer, rolling up the sleeves of his blacks and gathering his thoughts. If he slipped up, the Kaminoans would suspect something. Even the slightest bug in their system could alert them, so he had to be careful. He could leave no trace.

Master Ti moved to the door.

“I will keep watch,” She said, “the force will warn me of unexpected visitors.”

She gave Tup a pointed look and he briefly wondered why it hadn’t warned her of his unexpected visit, but quickly realised there was no point in dwelling on that. It was time to get to work.

He began slowly, testing the limits of the Kaminoans security. They were good, but they weren’t that good. Tup had been taught by a Mandalorian for forces sake, he knew his way around technology. Trainer Skirata had ensured it, hell he’d insisted on it. No matter how good the kaminoans thought they were, Tup had every advantage over them.

“What is it you are looking for General? What do you need me to find?” He asked. Tup needed a place to start, somewhere to begin looking. He was running blind here and he needed to know how much Master Ti trusted him before making any snap decisions. He also had to figure out how much he trusted her.

“Clone production,” She said immediately, “And if you can find it, the original order for the clones. I want to know exactly who placed it and when.”

Tup nodded. Okay, he could work with that.  

The sound of the storm outside filled the air as he worked, searching through files to find the right ones. Each boom of thunder felt a little like the chimes of a clock, as though the planet itself was warning them that they had to be fast about this. So, he picked up his pace, still being careful to leave nothing out of order in case of alerting the longnecks.

There –

His eyes caught the information he needed, the key words of ‘order’ and ‘production’ making clear what information the folder held. Now for the hard part, breaking through the layers of encryption. “Okay General, we’re almost there.”

-

-

Oh god. Oh force. Damn it all, what the hell was he looking at?

He had cracked it, gotten the files open. He had gone to call over Master Ti, but the words on the page had caught his eye before he had the chance. He had expected something bad. Why else would the jedi be looking into it? Again, he was back to predictability, it had been obvious that the longnecks were likely up to something. But this? This was – this was far bigger than him.

Execution orders? Control chips? ‘Fail safes’ that would make Tup turn his blaster to his own head?

What the hell was all this?

There was a name as well, signed on the bottom of one of the scanned documents. Tyranus. He didn’t know who the hell that was, only that they had signed off on all of this. Whoever they were, he was fairly certain they weren’t a jedi.

“Master Ti? I uh, I think you should come take a look at this.” He said, eyes still glued to the screen in front of him, trying to process what exactly it was they were seeing.

She leant over the table beside him, eyes skimming over the screen. The closer to the bottom they got, the tighter her face became. Fear, he realized, she was afraid. Not that Tup blamed her, he was terrified. If this was enough to scare the Jedi, then he had every right to be.

“Force,” she said, mostly to herself, “He was right. All of it, he was right.”

Tup didn’t bother to ask who was right, couldn’t with the way his brain was screaming with this information. If the Kaminoans chose to go over the loudspeakers, if they said those – those orders, would Tup obey them? Would he have a choice? Or would his hands find a blaster on their own, would his mind scream as his body betrayed him, cutting down the General he was supposed to be helping.

“Get it out of me.” He found himself saying. “Please, get it out. It can’t – I can’t.”

And he couldn’t. His breath was coming out in sharp gasps and his vision was turning to colored spots. It was all for nothing, his brothers fighting and dying out there, sacrificing themselves for the republic, it was all for nothing. They would never know the peace they were fighting for, not when the kaminoans were going to turn them into mindless droids that would be forced to destroy the democracy they had been fighting to save.

The voice was back in his mind again, but he could hear it clearly this time. It was saying his name, just his name, not his number. Over and over again, the sound came. Tup, Tup, Tup. It was calming, allowing him to focus his breath back into a steady rhythm.

“Easy soldier,” The General was saying, “We’ll get it out of you, don’t worry. We’ll figure it out. I will not abandon you or your brothers.”

He nodded, coming back to himself slightly.

“Brain scanners. The Kaminoans, they have brain scanners. It should be able to locate that – that thing.” He said, spitting the last word out with all of the anger he had stored away, all of the spite he had carefully cultivated towards those damn creatures. “Once you know where it is, a surgeon droid can cut it out.”

General Ti nodded, montrals bobbing slightly as her face sharpened into something quiet and angry. He had a feeling that anger wasn’t directed at him though, she had been oblivious to the chips as much as he was. “Then that is where we shall start.”

The force felt different, lighter, happier, not so dark and clouded as it had been. Where it was once stifled and suffocated in oily darkness, it was now easy to reach, rising to the surface with only a careful question. Sidious frowned, that was not good at all. He had spent far to long cultivating the glorious desperation that had flowed so freely. The delicious agony as one by one, the jedi fell in various battles around the galaxy.

Sidious was certain he knew what was causing this change though. The anomaly that rocked the force so greatly was surely to blame.

He had felt it close to the beginning, only a few months into the war, the game of chess that Sidious was watching play out. At the time, he had thought nothing of the curious disturbance. It was only natural that the force should fluctuate with the changing nature of the jedi, the slow corruption of their pathetic order as they were drawn further into the darkness of war and death. Greif was oh so terrible, a difficult thing to live with and unfamiliar to most of the Jedi. The perfect tool for dragging them out of the light.

Now, he realized it was far more than it seemed. Something, or someone, was trying to destroy his carefully laid plans, the grand scheme that his life had been entirely devoted to. Fury filled him, and he allowed it to swell, fueling the darkness that bubbled and churned beneath the surface. He could not let them succeed. They were standing in the way of his power, his ultimate victory over those weaker than him. Sidious would not let them get away with it. They had already signed their death warrant, a slow, painful one at that.

No matter, he was close now, oh so close to the completion of this little charade. Soon the republic would bend willingly before him, and he would take his place at the top. Those righteous and peace-loving fools, thinking themselves saints whilst hoarding their own power.

Really, they weren’t so different to the Sith they claimed to hate. Only, Sidious had the power of the force at his beck and call, he was strong enough to seize what was rightfully his, bold enough to take risks in order to achieve this. That was what set him apart, his hatred for one thing, but his ambition more than anything else.

It was what Plagueis had lacked. The vision needed to bring the Sith back into living memory, to wipe the jedi out with one fell swoop and seize the power left in the vacuum this created it. The best part was those light lovers’ compliance. They were working towards their own destruction, and they hadn’t even realized it. Oh, the irony, the beauty in watching them crumble. Sidious could hardly wait to hear them cry out in the force, betrayal mixed with agony and grief.

What a lovely thought.

In order for it to come to pass though, he would have to deal with the unexpected anomaly. He could not go after it himself though, and Darth Tyranus was in the midst of the fighting with that idiotic little assassin of his. He would have to find someone else to deal with the problem.

Perhaps – yes. The boy, Anakin Skywalker. That would do nicely. If Sidious was lucky, the anomaly would be difficult to obtain, and then the boy would be forced to fall back on the dark side, bringing him closer to the grasp of the Sith. Yes, it was perfect.

He would send his future apprentice to deal with this. When he inevitably came back hurt, scared of the power he had used and the way he had lost himself to it, Sidious would console him. He would become the kindly old man that the world believed him to be, convince the boy that if his Master knew about it, he would be cast from the order. Sidious reveled in the chance to pain Kenobi further. The man had been a thorn in his side for far to long, throwing various plans off balance on more than one occasion. The horror that would ring in the force at his padawans actions almost made this calculated risk worth it in itself.

It was decided then. Anakin would eliminate the threat, Kenobi would be pained over the distance created between them, and Sidious would be free to enact his grand plan in peace.

Now, time to see the boy. The so called chosen one. He slid the mask of the kindly senator on with ease, it was perfectly suited to him, worn in by years of use. It was time to talk to Skywalker.  

The walk to the chancellor’s office was calming, easy, and familiar. Light filtered in through the windows in the corridor, golden in the early morning hush of the city below. Coruscant was never truly asleep, but Anakin preferred the quiet rumbling of mornings anyways. Silence wasn’t really his thing, but the slow rhythm of people going about their lives, heading off to work or going to buy a morning caff was oddly grounding. It reminded him that the world was still moving, still going along around him even in the midst of the war.

He knocked on the intricately carved door and waited for chancellor Palpatine’s soft and wispy voice.

“Ah! Anakin, come in my dear boy.” The man said as the door slid open, smiling warmly and beckoning him in.

Most of the light was blocked out of the room by thick curtains that hung over the large windows, making the air feel thick and stuffy. The carpets were a deep red, the same as the stiff couches and the table in the center of the room that Anakin was fairly sure had never seen any use.

“Come, sit down my boy. Tell me, how have you been?”

 Anakin was – well. He was having a good day. He was currently stationed on coruscant close to Padme, they had lost minimal casualties in the last few battles, Ahsoka had spent the flight back chattering his ears off and he was talking to Chancellor Palpatine who had been in his corner since the beginning. So really, he couldn’t complain. It was perfect. Except –

It was missing Obi-wan.

Anakin wasn’t stupid, despite what most people thought when he did something crazy and reckless. He knew that his master was on some sort of stealth mission, why else would the council be so hush-hush about it? It must have been important for them to have sent Obi-wan. They wouldn’t have spared the negotiator for anything less than an emergency. Still, he missed the man. Ahsoka did too, though she was loathe to show it. Things just weren’t the same without his gentle guidance or ‘told-you-so’ face when someone did something incredibly stupid – usually Anakin but whatever. It wasn’t like he was going to tell the Chancellor that anyways.

It was fine though, he still had friends around him to keep him company. Like Palpatine, the man had been something of a grandfather to Anakin for as long as he could remember. He had always listened to his troubles and been sympathetic to his attachments.

“Just fine,” He ended up saying, “What about you?”

“Oh, perfectly all right my boy, though I suppose you are more interested in why I’ve called you here.”

Anakin nodded. It was true, Chancellor Palpatine rarely called Anakin directly to his office. Most of the time they just seemed to run into each other and stop for a chat, sometimes Anakin would visit him on his own accord, and sure, there were a few times were Palpatine had invited him into his office, but he was never called there so officially unless the man had a mission for him.

“Before I tell you, I wonder if I may inquire into where your master is?”

Anakin frowned; he was asking about Obi-wan? Surely the Chancellor would have needed to approve whatever mission he had gone on? Maybe it was an order from the council though, the Jedi still operated individually from the senate on some matters that were regarded as being within their jurisdiction. That must be it.

“Off on an important mission for the jedi, don’t ask me where, I don’t even know where he is!” He tried to joke, smiling at Palpatine but quickly toning the brightness down as the man frowned.

“He didn’t trust you enough to tell you where he was going?”

Anakin shook his head. What did trust have to do with this? It was a mission from the jedi council, Obi-wan would have been ordered not to speak of it. He had promised to be back within a few weeks, so it wasn’t like he had rushed into certain danger without backup. Plus, Commander Cody had gone with him. Anakin was sure the clone commander would keep an eye on his master, maybe two with the way the clone had been staring dreamily at him. And although he worried as he always did, he knew that his master was coming back. So really, he supposed it was a matter of trust, a matter of how much Anakin trusted Obi-wan.

After the marriage reveal and everything that had happened since then, Anakin had realized that he could trust Obi-wan with far more than he had previously thought. They were brothers. If Obi-wan couldn’t tell him about the mission, then Anakin would just have to have faith in him.

“It wasn’t about trust. It was an order from the jedi council, I know Obi-wan wouldn’t keep me in the dark without a reason.”

Palpatine smiled in that warm way of his, only it didn’t seem so warm this time, instead it seemed strained and frustrated.

“You trust him with this, but not with the knowledge of you and Padme, you know what he would do if he found out about you.”

Anakin stood stock still for a moment, shocked by the bluntness of that statement, and how incorrect it was. He did know what Obi-wan would do if he found out because he did find out. Instead of running off to tell the council he had held Anakin as he cried and apologized for making him think he couldn’t talk about it. And here Palpatine was, thinking Obi-wan was cruel enough to betray him.

He wanted to correct the man, wanted to open his mouth and refute the claim because it was wrong on so many levels. But something stopped him. Maybe it was the hard look in the chancellors’ eyes, or the way his hands were gripping each other tightly, he didn’t know. All he knew was that for a minute, he felt as though he was looking at a stranger, an enemy, rather than the friend he had known for years.

“Yeah, I guess.” He told the man instead, hating the way the chancellors’ eyes lit up in victory. Did he truly hate Obi-wan so much? Anakin wasn’t blind, he knew his master had a – how to say – strong distaste of the man, but he didn’t think Obi-wans distrust warranted the slander Palpatine was throwing at him.

A thought stuck in his mind then, something he hadn’t truly considered before. Palpatine had been the one to persuade Anakin out of telling Obi-wan about the wedding in the first place. He had been the one to place that seed of doubt there. Surely it was only because the old man worried for him, right?

“I did not call you here to talk about your master though Anakin,” Palpatine said, looking at him in a way that reminded Anakin of a snake eyeing up its prey, “I have a mission for you.”

There was something in this words that set Anakin on edge, and for the first time in his life, he felt truly afraid of chancellor Palpatine. There had been moments, few and far between where his brain had screamed danger at the mans sly smile, but he had never paid much attention to it, brushing it off with a shrug of the shoulders and a grin. It was impossible to ignore now.

Anakin reached for the force, attempting to draw comfort from its quiet buzz. When he did so, however, he was met with a clogged and darkened thing that warped around him in a sort of sludge.

What the hell was going on here? Anakin didn’t know, but he sure as hell didn’t want to stick around to find out.

“Sorry Chancellor Palpatine, but I’m afraid my schedule is quite full.” He said, lying out of his ass as he tried to think of an excuse to leave the office that now seemed terribly cramped and far to warm.

“Not to worry my boy, I’m sure I could speak to the council and have some of your responsibilities – taken over by another.”

Anakin gritted his teeth. He just wanted to leave. He wanted to leave and call Padme and spend the rest of the day held in her arms. He wanted some comfort after whatever this was, this slimy darkness that felt as though it was trapping him to die.

“I’m afraid that won’t be possible Chancellor.” He said with an air of finality. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have some things to attend to. As I said, my schedule is rather full.” Then he turned on his heel and left, not waiting for the man’s response.

The second he was out of that room Anakin slid to the floor and heaved a deep breath. Never had Palpatine made him feel so unsafe before, so out of control. It was staggeringly bizarre, he couldn’t help feeling as though his world view had been turned on its head. Why had he felt like that so suddenly? What had changed to make him act so – so strangely?

It didn’t matter. Not at the moment anyways. He just needed to talk to Padme. He had to get to Padme.

Anakin picked himself up off the floor, getting his shaky legs under him. He left the hallway with only one though on his mind, completely unaware of the temper tantrum that the Sith lord was throwing behind him.

Chapter Text

"Mistakes are valuable lessons often learned too late." - Season 7, Episode 6

“Again.” The word was said so softly that Obi-wan hadn’t been certain he had heard it at first. A trick of the ears perhaps, the whistling of the wind outside the cozy hut, but no. The air was calm and still, and he had heard that voice speak. Calmness flooded through the force, that immovable stone smoothed over by the years.

“Sorry Cody, what was that?” Obi-wan asked, turning to face his commander who stood quietly in the doorway, leaning against the wall in a way that would have been relaxed if not for the tightly strung set of his jaw. What could have caused such an expression, he did not know. He waited for Cody to repeat himself.

“Yesterday, you said ‘I can’t lose you again’” Cody said, pushing himself off the door and walking towards the center of the room, face not quite relaxed, but not quite accusatory either. Not yet anyways. “What does ‘again’ mean, Obi-wan.”

Ah. It seemed Cody had caught that little slip. Honestly, Obi-wan had not even realized that he had made such a mistake until last night, when the conversation had replayed in his mind over and over, the warmth of Cody’s hand on his back and his head pressed into the crook of his neck.

It was optimistic, and foolish, but he had hoped his commander had not noticed.

There was panic now, flooding over him in waves that crashed against his mental shields. What if’s? and what not’s? and why now’s? filled his head, and he shoved them down with the almost exhausted source of his willpower.

For a minute, he considered lying. Only for a minute though, it was unfair to keep his commander in the dark, to continue stringing him along like this. And really, what lie would Obi-wan tell to cover that error? He was certain that he could not convince Cody of some terrible event that the commander was unaware of wherein Obi-wan thought he was lost to him, no. It was better to come clean.

Whether Cody would believe the truth was a different can of worms. It wasn’t every day you were told by your General that he had come back in time to save the future from a terrible fate involving the chancellor of the republic you worked for who also just so happened to be a Sith lord. Oh, and not to mention the genocide of his entire race. That happened too.

This conversation would not go so easily, no matter what Obi-wan said to try and smooth over those old betrayals that felt fresh as an open wound.

“Would you believe me if I told you?” He asked instead of voicing any of these thoughts, smiling in a way he was certain looked tired and worn out. He did not have the energy to make it convincing, not anymore. Cody could see it too if the way his eyes softened was anything to go by.

“Always, Obi-wan. I know you would not lie to me. I just – I need to know that you trust me. Please.” Cody said, and there was raw earnestness in his every word. He was serious, Obi-wan realized. If he was told a giant turtle created the universe and Obi-wan had the proof, Cody would believe it out of pure faith and devotion. The thought was startling, and mildly concerning. He wanted Cody to form his own opinions, to be his own person and live as an individual. The amount of control this gave Obi-wan over him – well. Maybe lying wouldn’t have been so difficult after all.

No. He would not lie, not to him. Not to Cody. Funny, wasn’t it? That his commander had discovered this fact before Obi-wan himself. It seemed the man knew him far too well.

“I have done this all before,” he said, “Christophsis, Teth, the war, the clones, the Sith, all of it. I came back, who knows how but I did. I came to change it.”

Cody looked on, face blank as his brain tried to catch up with the words he was hearing. Then came the stricken look, the colors of his face paling, then reddening, before finally settling into the same blank stare. “Tell me.”

Obi-wan nodded. He had dreaded this moment for a long while now, the moment when someone would find out how terribly he had messed up, where all of his mistakes would be laid bare for another to see. He could imagine the look on Cody’s face, the contempt and disgust at the things Obi-wan had done. All the people he had let down.

“Let us sit,” he said, trying to keep the wet rasp out of his voice. As he dropped to sit on the bed, Cody coming to sit beside him, he suddenly became aware of how tired he was, like a juice box that has had all of its contents squeezed out of it. There was nothing in him now but the gaping emptiness that threatened to swallow him whole. It was exhausting, to keep up the front, to act as though he had never met his men before, as if he hadn’t watched waxer tape a Jogun fruit to the ceiling or seen Wooley draw a moustache on Crys bucket whilst he slept.

Perhaps it would be a relief to have Cody know, at least then someone would know him, truly know him for what he was.

“I messed up Cody.” He said, and in that moment the reality of everything he had seen, everything he had done came crashing down on top of him. The mask fell away and all that was left was a broken man who was oh so terribly tired. Tears fell without his permission, but he could not seem to find the strength to care. He felt for the first time in a long time that he truly had no strength left in him. “I couldn’t stop the Sith. They won, the republic fell, the jedi, Anakin – “

He bit his sentence off. It hadn’t been Anakin. Vader, it had been Vader. It could not have been Obi-wans brother, could not have been the boy he had raised, who he had taught to swim, and fight and laugh. It was someone else who had done those – those things. Horrid, terrible things that his bright boy would never have even dreamt of in his worst nightmares.

“Obi-wan?” Cody asked, and he was right by his side now, hand on his arm and fingers laced with his. “I want to understand, help me to understand.”

Obi-wan shook his head. He couldn’t – he couldn’t. Cody was looking increasingly distressed, but Obi-wan couldn’t focus on that. All he could think of was the press of his commander’s body against his own and the calming stroke of his thumb on the skin of his hand. Carefully, he tried to align his breathing with those movements.

“If you can’t tell me, can you – can you show me?” Cody asked. It was enough to bring Obi-wan back to his body a little. He could do it, he knew, project his memories into his commander’s mind. But he did not want Cody to see that, did not want his mind tainted with the knowledge of the future, the knowledge that Obi-wan had to live with. Another part of him knew the reason was selfish – he did not want Cody to see the things he had done, how he had hardly tried to help the clones, to help Ahsoka, to help Anakin. So many let downs, so many failures, and all of them his fault.

“I do not want you to see such terrible things.” He said, finding his voice after a while.

“I am a soldier Obi-wan; I can handle it. Please, I need to know. Let me understand, help me to understand.”

How could Obi-wan argue? Cody deserved to know what kind of monster he served under, his chancellor and his General both, for Obi-wan was not free of blame in this. That much he knew. Already too much choice had been taken from the clones, if Cody was so desperate to see this, then Obi-wan would not deny him. The nod he gave was terse and short, but Cody took it as a sign to smile. He wasn’t certain if it was a happy smile necessarily, but it was grateful and soft and warm.

Cody seemed to hesitate for a moment before his hand clasped the back of Obi-wans head and he pulled forward, touching their foreheads together softly.

For a minute, Obi-wan lost the ability to think. A Keldabe kiss. The Mandalorian tradition created so as to show an affectionate kiss whilst wearing a helmet. His commander was giving him a keldabe kiss of his own volition. Cody was kissing him.

“Thank you. Thank you Meshla.” Cody said, smiling against Obi-wans face. Meshla, he had said, beautiful.

Obi-wan stuttered, mouth falling open like a particularly dumbstruck salmon. Cody had – what -? A thousand thoughts were filling his head, and a thousand emotions filled his heart. Hope, namely. Hope that maybe there could be something after the war, something that encompassed the gorgeous look that Cody was giving him. And perhaps more of that nickname. Meshla.

But they would have to have that particular conversation later. For some reason, he did not think it would mix well with the information Cody was about to receive, the future he was about to see plain as day.

After Obi-wan regained the ability to think, he pressed a hand to Cody’s temple.

“This will feel strange,” He warned, “Do not try to resist it. Though if you do, I will not force anything. You will be in control throughout. If anything becomes too distressing, I will know and end the connection. Do you understand?”

Cody gave grim nod. Alright then.

Obi-wan took a deep breath, and let his memories fill him up, dragging the two of them into the future that was his past.

-

-

-

Christophsis rushed up to greet him, and the events that came with it. Slick was grinning at him, making a grand speech about the republic’s unfairness. Each gesture was practiced and poised, and the dead clones in the barracks seemed for a minute like puppets that he used to demonstrate each careful sentence. Obi-wan watched the man spit and howl in front of him and felt nothing but shame. He was right, after all. Right all along.

Ventress ran towards him, lightsabres flashing red. He fought, because of course he did. He kept her away, kept her busy, kept her distracted from Anakin and Ahsoka. Jabba’s son, the palace, the escape from Teth. The massacre –

 The sands of Ryloth were as harsh as ever, air tinged with oil and sweat and blaster fire. The men watched as he tamed the hungry beasts, poor things starved of food and affection. It was not such a great feat, but they applauded and stared in wonder as though he had hung the moon and stars in the sky. Cody looked on from the shade, unreadable as ever –

Satine scolded him, deathwatch took over the ship, nameless battles passed in a blur of faces and white armor and pain. Keep going, he told himself, they need you. The men need you.

Maul returned and Obi-wan got himself beat to hell. Help came from an unlikely ally, but an ally all the same. Satine died in his arms, clutching his hands desperately as the breath escaped her. He could do nothing but watch.

And then there was Cody, always there was Cody. They stayed in each other’s rooms, up all night planning strategies and formations and doing whatever they could to deal with the casualties that grew like a cancer. As time passed, the distance between their hands shrunk; the amount of caff they consumed did not.

“Do you ever think about after?” Obi-wan asked one night, sitting on the floor with paperwork spread in front of him. Cody shifted, turned to face him, lips close enough to touch his. For a minute, he thought that his commander might make some quip. Perhaps he would pretend Obi-wan meant after the battle instead of after the unthinkable. After the war.

He did not.

“Sometimes.” He admitted, whispered softly into the air like a confession. In that moment, Obi-wan wanted nothing more than to grab him, kiss him, tell him of how wonderful he was and how bright the world seemed when he was there to lighten it. But he doesn’t. He didn’t. Just smiled and watched his commander smile as the world continued to rage on around them.

Ahsoka left. She took a piece of Anakin with her. If he was honest, she took a piece of Obi-wan too. A daughter, a sister, whatever she was to him, she was family. Gone now, gone and gone and gone. Regret swells. He never got the chance to tell her how proud of her he was. He hoped she knew. That hope burned in him, fueled him for a little longer. Let it be enough, please. Let it be enough.

Then there was Utapua.

It came, unstoppable and rhythmic like the steady turn of seasons. Grievous fell under his blade. For one brief, glorious moment, he thought this is it. The end of the war, the chance to find some of that peace they had been fighting for. A deep feeling of want passed through him, and for once he did not hide it away again. Perhaps it is time, he thought. Perhaps I have earned it.

And then he fell.

He did not understand it at first, where the shot came from. There was panic, fear of some hidden enemy killing his men. Then he saw Cody, as he fell down and down into that dark abyss. His dear commander, the man who had whispered so gently to him. “Sometimes,” he had said as if it was a promise, as if saying it out aloud was a blessing and a curse all at once. Obi-wan had thought they were talking of the same thing. Oh, how wrong he was.

He did not seem to stop falling.

He tumbled through the next few days, slaughtered younglings and yellow eyes and burning banks of lava that tore at his eyes and his skin and his heart.

The Jedi died and he tried to cling to something, anything to kill away that unbearable pain in his chest. But there was nothing to cling to. The ground was falling away from beneath his feet and there was no one left to catch him as he fell.

I did not want this, he screamed to the skies, I did not want any of this to happen.

He was the first to hold Luke and Leia, the first to count ten perfect toes and ten perfect fingers on each child. Padme looked so small, so grey, and so tired. In those last moments, she looked nothing like the strong leader Obi-wan knew her to be. But then again, nothing was as he thought it to be. Not anymore.

Tatooine was lonely. He could not do this again. Force damn it, please, he did not want to do this again. There was no one now, no one who knew him, no one who loved him. The force was empty, and so was Obi-wan. Was there truly nothing left? Was there truly nothing to fight for?

Money drained on jawwa juice and will drained with it. Obi-wans consciousness faded, and with it, the world.

He woke up on Chrisophsis.

Cody reeled back, throat in his mouth as he clattered onto the floor. The pounding of his heart steadied him, as did the cool touch of the ground beneath him. He did not pause to be embarrassed about falling from the bed. Not when those images were still racing through his mind.

Obi-wan alone and grieving, watching his family die. The future turning darker and darker, Palpatine laughing as it turned to ashes.

And him. Cody. He had shot Obi-wan.

He did not want to believe it, could not believe it. Cody would never. Obi-wan was – he was everything. No matter what timeline they were in, he would never harm his General. Cody was sure of it. So why had he? Why had he betrayed one of the only people to ever give a damn about what happened to him?

The answer was right there of course, discovered only two days prior. The compulsion. That thing in his head that would turn him into a mindless killer. That had turned him into a mindless killer.

Obi-wan was looking at him, he realized, gaze pitying and wary and full of a horrifying mix of hope and desperation. It did not suit his face – hopelessness. The expression made the curves of his cheekbones seem too sharp, too concaved and worn. They made the tilt of his eyes dull, so different from the sharp-witted intelligence that Cody was used to.

“Obi-wan I – oh god I’m so sorry.” Bile rose in his throat, and for one brief minute he thought he might throw up. “I shot you, fuck. I shot you.”

Obi-wan threw himself off the bed and knelt in front of him. A callused hand found its way under Cody's chin, and his head was tilted to reach those swirling blue eyes. They were no longer desperate but filled with steely determination, an expression that was unfairly attractive. It suited him far better than desperation.

“It was not you Cody. It was the compulsion. I do not blame you. It was not your fault.” The tone of his voice left no room for argument. Not that Cody wanted to argue, doing – doing that was unthinkable. Still, the forgiveness was nice.

Then a thought struck him. The compulsion, Obi-wan had just found out about, that was for certain. Fainting like that from the shock was proof enough of his unawareness. And what did that mean? Well, it meant that his stupid, reckless General who did not have a single ounce of self-preservation in his fragile body had genuinely thought Cody had betrayed him, and then come back and stayed with him anyways.

Obi-wan had been kind and compassionate, working closely with the man he thought had betrayed and tried to kill him.

“Obi-wan,” he said, “respectfully, you are the biggest idiot I’ve ever met.”

His General looked dumbstruck, but amused. And okay, no. He had no right to be amused. Not when Cody was panicking a little because what other idiotic things had he done since arriving back in time? What other enemies had he just forgiven like that?

“You beautiful, strong, idiot of a man. You just came back and forgave me? Forgave us?”

Confusion was another expression Cody could add to the list of ‘emotions that do not fit Obi-wans face’. Really, what was he saying that was so confusing? For a normal person, forgiving the clones after they literally committed a genocide on your people would be out of the question. But for Obi-wan? Well, he had never been a normal person anyways. Especially not now that Cody knew he had come back in time. Because apparently that was possible. Force osik, he told himself. Blame it on that and don’t think about it too hard.

“Cody, I didn’t blame you, even then.” Obi-wan repeated, trying again to convince Cody of this. “I thought – I thought maybe you had reason enough to betray the republic. After everything you had gone through.”

Anger was not an emotion that Cody was unfamiliar with, but whatever he was feeling went far beyond the simple boundaries of ‘anger’. This was fury, pure and unfiltered. It was clear what Obi-wan was saying, what he was implying.

“You blamed yourself?! Obi-wan none of this was your fault. How could you even think that?”

His General smiled sadly, shrugging his shoulders slightly. Force, he looked tired, exhausted even. Of course he bloody did, he was living this war for the second time around. That was enough to make anyone worn out enough to sleep for two weeks straight.

“I’m going to kill Palpatine.” He said with a great amount of certainty, a sentence that in any other circumstance, would immediately have him killed for treason. Not that he cared about that anymore, funnily enough, there were bigger things to think about. “I’m going to kill him and mutilate his body.”

Okay, that was not the nicest image, but Obi-wan laughed and shook his head, so Cody counted it as a win.

“Yes well, you will have to join the line I’m afraid.”

Yes, Cody thought. He would have to join the line. There was no doubt in his mind that Obi-wan was first in it. The image was thrilling, his General descending like an avenging angel, hair wild about his face as the blue light from his sabre cast the world in a heavenly glow. Then Palpatine’s head would tumble to the floor and Cody would spit on it for good measure.

“Do you have a plan? For taking him down?” Cody asked, because removing that man from the favor of the republic would not be so easy, especially with his brothers still under the compulsion. Memories of the future swam around in his head, the jedi falling one by one. It could not come to that.

Obi-wan grinned, a feral thing that showed far too many teeth. “My dear commander, are you saying you want in?”

And really was that even a question? A chance to hit back at Palpatine and watch Obi-wan deliver justice like a heavenly being? He would not miss it for the world. Sign him the fuck up.

“Obi-wan I would be delighted.”

Chapter Text

"Sometimes, accepting help is harder than offering it" - Season 2, Episode 7

The morning came slowly, inching forward in the rising waves of sun that shone through the small windows and bathed the room in a warm glow. Sleep was still tugging at his eyelids in that lazy sort of way it tends to do in the tired haze of mornings, and heat radiated off Cody who was pressed against his back, still resting in a light doze. Obi-wan allowed himself a moment of respite from everything. This was all he had ever wanted for after the war, these precious seconds of peace that came when you needed them most. He wanted to wake in Cody’s arms each day and know that they were safe, that nothing could touch them anymore.

It would not be long now, not anymore. With Cody’s help, with Talzin’s and Shaak Ti’s too, everything was coming together quite splendidly. At first, Obi-wan had thought he would have to do everything alone. Burdened by the knowledge of an impossible future and grieving over everything, he had forgotten that people actually cared about him. It had been so long since someone had done such a thing that he had forgotten the action was possible. Yet here he was, wrapped in the embrace of a man who had seen all of Obi-wans failures and accepted him anyway. A man who had watched a horrific future pan out and then consoled Obi-wan as if it was him who had just had his entire world turned on its head. In all fairness, he kind of had. Knowing that he could rely on others as well as himself was certainly something revolutionary.

Curling his hands in the thin covers, he burrowed deeper into the warmth of the bed. Getting up and preparing for the day was something he would have to do at some point in the future. It had been three days, and he was expecting an answer from the two nightbrothers. There was more to this day though, he knew. Something in his heart told him this would be their last day on Dathomir, whether the brothers chose to stay or go with them. Once they had left the nightsisters base and headed to the brother’s village, they would not return. What reason would they have to do so? There was nothing more to be done here and Obi-wan knew he would have to return to coruscant soon to enact the rest of his plan and face Palpatine if nothing else.

(His padawans came to mind. Anakin’s crooked grin and Ahsoka’s knowing smirk. Missing them was an unavoidable eventuality.)

But he could have this peace for a moment longer, Cody huffing softly against his neck and the sound of birds chirping outside the window. He could allow himself this, at least for a little longer.

“Mornin” came a croaky and tired voice from beside him, and Obi-wan smiled. It seemed his dear commander was awake after all then. Shuffling in a way that was lightly awkward, he turned to face the man.

“Good morning my dear,” he whispered, and they were close now, oh so close, noses practically brushing against each other.

In a moment of confidence that was entirely fake and far too terrifying to think too long about, Obi-wan brought a hand up to touch the side of his commander’s face. After everything that had happened yesterday – the not-so-grand reveal, Cody’s reaction, the keldabe kiss – Obi-wan dared to hope again. A long time had come and gone since he had last allowed such a thing, but he did now. He dared to hope for something more, to dream of an after that he never got to have. Maybe this time – force please let him have it this time.

“Is this okay?” He whispered, because he was Cody’s commanding officer and the clones had never had many choices. He needed to know that this was not some misinformed way of following perceived orders. There was nothing more important than his commander’s wellbeing and agency, and Obi-wan had to know that this was his decision.

“Yes,” Cody whispered back breathlessly, “yes, I – yes.”

A smile wormed its way onto Obi-wans face, and he let it grow into something warm and soft. How could he not? It was Cody. His wonderful Cody who was looking at him in that way – happy and content and hopeful. It would be enough to make anyone smile. Seconds turned into minutes that passed in the warmth of the sun which splayed over them. They stayed like that, breathing quietly and taking in the moment of perfection. Because really, what other word could be used to describe such a feeling?

“Can I – “ Cody began and then stopped, eyes flicking down for just a second and cheeks burning hot. “Never mind.” He finished lamely, embarrassment tinging his force presence.

Well, that would never do.

Obi-wan sat up, and Cody followed. He took his commanders hands in his own and grasped them tight. And oh – this was reckless. Truly he was setting himself up for agony and grief. But at that moment, he could not care. The thing that hung between them was too fragile for such anxiety, too soft for the sharp edge of grief to pierce.

“Ask.” He said, “Ask and it is yours.”

Never had he ever meant words as much as he meant those. There was a raw desperation in them, years of loneliness and grief and longing merged into the tragically hopeful desire that seemed to be bursting out of him.

“Can I kiss you, Obi-wan?” Cody asked once he had found his voice, and for a minute it seemed as though the world was crashing down around him.

This was it, the thing Obi-wan had been chasing, the feeling he had been longing for all his life.

“Please.” He managed to force out before he was tangling his hands in Cody’s hair and pulling him in.

The kiss was careful, soft in a way that was beyond gentle. Perhaps it was out of fear of breaking the tenderness, of shattering the joy that hung between them. Obi-wan didn’t care. Cody was kissing him, and his lips were soft and there was a hand on his cheek and the force was practically singing. Something came loose inside of Obi-wan’s chest, something that had been strung tight for a long time. Emotions coursed through him, feelings and sensations all working with the slow movements of Cody’s mouth. It felt like everything and nothing all at once, like fire in his chest and burning ice in his veins.

It felt like love. The kind that Obi-wan had thought he would never feel again.

And yet… and yet.

Cody pulled back; hands still braced on either side of Obi-wans head. The expression on his face was dumbstruck, as though he couldn’t quite believe what he had done, that he had actually kissed someone.

“Are you… was that… I mean, do you want – “

“Yes.” Obi-wan said immediately, because Cody deserved to know how much he cared about him. “Yes Cody, I want you more than I can explain. I – I have loved you for a long time I think, but if this is something that you do not want, if you are not comfortable with this – ”

“No!” Cody blurted out, then seemed to gain control over himself. “No I – I want this Obi-wan. I want you. Is that okay? Am I – am I allowed to want that?”

Oh. Oh. So that’s what this was about. He should have known. Clones were not allowed to want anything. They were not allowed to ask for things. Sadness mixed with fury at the actions of the republic, but he squashed it down as quickly as it came, focusing instead on that burning spot of love that was radiating from Cody’s very being.

“Yes Cody. Always. You are allowed to want things; you are allowed to ask for things. You are a person, a person who I love very much. If you want something, you need only ask. Ask it of me and it is yours.” He said, repeating his words from earlier because he had to make Cody understand that there was nothing he would not give for him.

“Then, can you kiss me again?” Cody asked almost shyly, and Obi-wan was all too happy to oblige.

Leaning forward again, he closed the distance between them. Time shrunk into nothingness, and he allowed himself to forget the world around him in favor of committing every inch of Cody’s skin to memory. The tangles of his hair and the rough calluses on his hands, the raised scars on one side of his face and the gentle curve of his jaw. The calm and steady thrum of the force that was intersected by blinding spots of pure love. It was all around him, and for that one perfect moment the only thing in Obi-wans world was Cody.

He wished he could stay like that forever. A few moments longer, he reasoned, I can be happy just a few moments longer.

The walk down to the nightsister’s base was calm and quiet, the two of them walking side by side, hands tangled together. Cody was certain he was grinning like a fool, could almost imagine the lovesick expression plastered on his face. Perhaps in another timeline he would have been embarrassed, ashamed even. In this one though? He really couldn’t care about anything less, because Obi-wan had kissed him. Obi-wan Kenobi, high general of the gar, jedi master, Sith slayer, youngest member on the council. Cody’s General had kissed him as though he was someone worth kissing.

It seemed as though it was the first time that Cody had truly felt loved and valued. He knew his brothers loved him of course, even with all of their nagging and grumbling, but this was different. Obi-wan was not bound to him by blood nor birth, he had no reason to value Cody in the way that he did. Honestly, he didn’t really understand it. The man could have anyone he wanted; the entire republic was practically tripping over themselves to get into his bed. And yet he had chosen him, he had chosen Cody.

Yesterday he had, for a minute or two, wondered if Obi-wan was truly serious about this. Maybe he had just wanted a quick lay and Cody was the closest willing partner. That idea was quickly scrapped by the way Obi-wan looked at him, adoration and wonder mixing in blue eyes that were normally weighed down by heavy grief.

(The memories he had seen came to mind as well. After, Obi-wan had said, and Cody knew he was asking for more than just a casual fuck.)

It did not make sense, but neither did Obi-wan. They made quite a pair if Cody did say so himself, a time travelling Jedi and his grumpy clone commander. It was certainly one for the history books.

Dresdema seemed to think the same. The moment they came in sight of her, she glanced at their entangled hands and immediately burst out into laughter. Not a huff or a slight giggle either, no. She was bent over fully, one hand braced on her knee and the other clutching her stomach.

“Finally got your head out your arse then jedi?” She asked, and Cody felt slightly put off by the fact the comment was aimed at Obi-wan. After all, both of them had spent a significant amount of time skirting around each other. Really, they were both at fault for the length of time it had taken for them to actually communicate with each other.

“Holding hands already? Aww you two are adorable, I think I’m gonna throw up.” She finished, laughing at the redness that was slowly crawling its way across both of their faces.

“Yeah well at least I’m getting laid. When was the last time you got some?” He grumbled half-heartedly, stubbornly ignoring the flush on his face. It was worth it if only to see the viscous grin that Dres sported, the kind that involved far too many teeth to be comforting. Obi-wans shoulders shook as he held in his laugh, and then the three of them stopped trying to hide it and doubled over in hysterics.

In truth, it wasn’t funny in the slightest. The comeback was basic and predictable, far from anything truly worthy of even the slightest giggle. But Obi-wan was beside him and Dresdema was sarcastic as ever and Cody was happy.

He was also trying not to burst a lung as he desperately sucked in air between the laughs that rolled through him but whatever.

As their laughter died down, Dresdema put a hand on Cody’s shoulder and the other on Obi-wans.  

“Now, as the designated big sister of this little group thingy we’ve established, I feel it is my job to remind you to use protection – “

“Dres!” Cody interrupted, face burning hot as the fires of Mustafar.

“What? Safety is important, you gotta – uh – sheath the lightsaber y’know!”

Cody rubbed a hand over his face, willing the redness of it to disappear. He could tell Dres was having for too much fun with this little talk of hers “Dres, please stop. We are both adults. We know how to be safe. We don’t need this.”

She laughed, ruffling his hair as though he was some cadet, and then turned to Obi-wan. “And you mister,” She began, bringing a hand right into his face to point at him “You hurt my little spaceman and we will be having words. I’ll set Merrin on you, ya hear?”

“Terrifying.” Obi-wan said drolly but nodded nonetheless. “I will be sure to keep him safe and happy, lest I face the wrath of a prepubescent girl who names her weapons ‘pow’ and ‘boom’.”

Dresdema’s face schooled itself into mock seriousness. “You better. I have it on good authority that ‘pow’ is the ‘bestest weapon in the word’. You better watch your back jedi.”

And then they were chuckling again. The comradery between the three of them was easy, Cody realized. It was similar to the way it was with his brothers, easy jibes and sarcastic comments and back and forth insults that were all in good fun. He had never had a sister before, but he was certain that this is what it would feel like.

Once they had calmed, Dres grew serious again. Not mocking this time, but genuine. He knew as well as she did that this would likely be the last time they would see each other in a while. They would be heading to the nightbrothers soon, and they would be leaving her and her sisters behind.

“I have something for you both.” She said, then reached into her pocket and pulled out a small electronic chip. “This is for you, jedi. It’s what we talked about. Show it to the council, my mother seems to think it will help.” She said, small smile outweighed by the grimness that colored her tone. She held it out in front of her, then eyed Obi-wan expectantly. He seemed to hesitate for a moment, before taking it gently, turning it over in his hands in examination. Then he tucked it away in one of the many pouches of his robes and smiled stiffly.

“You have my thanks Dresdema, you all do. This would not have been possible without your aid. Please pass my regards on to your mother, I am very grateful to her for this.” He told her and she nodded before smiling back almost as stiffly. Cody was not entirely sure what that little exchange was about, but he was certain he was missing something. It did not worry him, if it was important, Obi-wan would let him know.

Dres turned to him then, grimness fading away into something cheeky and bright. “And as for you spaceman, with your tendency to find yourself in trouble, something tells me you’ll be needing this more than me.” She said, then unstrapped the plasma bow on her back and held it out to him. Her grin was too kind to be described as viscous, but it was a close thing. “You’ll need to keep practicing if you actually want to hit anything though.”

She – she was serious. She truly intended to give him the weapon that she had likely carried her whole life. When they had just arrived on Dathomir, hardly a week ago, she had been so determined to dislike him. He remembered how infuriated she had been at the idea of being indebted to him – and now? Well, and now she was looking out for him in every way she could.

He reached out carefully, grazing the surface of the weapon. “Dres, I can’t accept this.” He said, because it was too much. This was hers, and she needed it to protect herself.

“Too bad, cause I’ve already decided its yours.” She said, seemingly trying to sound definitive but only managing an exasperated fondness.

He took the bow, strapping it to his back as he adjusted the leather to fit over his armor. “I will take good care of it.” He vowed, looking her dead in the eye. Dres stared back for a moment, looking for something in his gaze. Whatever it was, she seemed to have found it.

“You better.” She said, punching him gently in the arm as she grinned.

And then an idea came to him. It would not be anywhere near enough to repay her for this kindness, but it would be something. He took his blaster out of its holster and offered it to her. At her questioning glance, he smiled.

“An exchange of skills.”

The words were similar to the ones he had spoken to her when she had asked to learn. He could safely say that both of them were proficient enough in each other’s weapon after the training they had done together, and he wanted her to have something to remember them by.

“You got it spaceman.” her gaze softened for a minute before she took the blaster and clipped it to her belt. “I’m not so good with mushy goodbyes and stuff, but make sure you see Merrin before you leave. She would never forgive me if I let you go without saying goodbye to her.”

Cody nodded and Obi-wan did the same. “We will,” His general said, smiling softly, “Farewell Dresdema of the nightsisters.”

“Yeah, see ya Jedi.”

Cody grasped her shoulder before she left. “Don’t die.” He said, and she nodded. “Same to you, spaceman.”

And then she turned and left, walking away back into the stone walls of the nightsister’s home. Not one for goodbyes indeed, he thought as he watched her retreating figure.

I will see her again, he reasoned, there is no need to feel upset.

Still, as he and Obi-wan searched the grounds for Merrin, he wondered if Dresdema would miss him as much as he would surely miss her. For some reason, he thought she would. Beneath the layers of sarcasm and dry humour, she was kind. He knew she would never admit to it, but her heart was far bigger than she let on. Cody was glad, it had been nice to see such kindness, even if she would punch him for calling attention to it.

He figured it was just another strange character to add to the line-up; a time travelling jedi, a grumpy clone, and a kind witch. Seriously, it was one for the ages.

(It would be a while before Cody realized how true this really was. Years would pass. He would look upon this moment and regret.)

Chapter Text

"When we rescue others, we rescue ourselves." - Season 5, Episode 8

Merrin cried when they delivered the news to her, attached herself to Cody’s leg, then promptly told them both that if they were going, she was going too. Cody, awkward as ever had warbled comfort to her as they had tried to persuade her to let go. Little progress was made that way as she did what any child would have done and only held on tighter. It had taken twenty minutes, a lot of coaxing, and Obi-wan using the force to intervene before they had finally been able to pry her off like a particularly stubborn limpet.

Obi-wan understood her reluctance to let them leave, they were likely the first proper friends she had ever had, aside from her sisters of course. It was heart-wrenching to watch those sad little doe eyes break, but it was necessary. There came a time in life when goodbyes were unavoidable, and this was one such occasion.

Before they left, however, he pressed two coms into her hands, one for her and one for Dres. Obi-wan knew they would have to leave Dathomir, but that didn’t mean he was about to abandon two real friends who had shown both himself and Cody great kindness. His promise to com them both seemed to calm Merrin and she finally relented.

“You ‘ave to promise me you won’t forget ‘bout me kay? You’ll remember about us won’t you?” She asked, eyes watering with tears that she was trying to hold in desperately. The tremble in her lips very nearly drove Obi-wan to say screw it to the council and stay a little longer, but he knew he couldn’t.

“How could we forget you?” He asked, gently brushing a stray tear from the side of her face, and she smiled a little at that, still sniffling. “I will make sure to com you and your sister as often as I can, I promise.” He said, and it was perhaps the easiest promise he had ever made.

She let him and Cody go then, waving tearfully as her figure grew smaller. Beside him, Cody’s force presence was bathed in the kind of loneliness that took loss to achieve. Not permanent loss, but loss all the same. They were not saying goodbye forever, but as they made the trek to their hut for the last time to collect their things, it certainly felt like it.

Once they had gathered everything they needed, an unfamiliar nightsister led them to their ship. They did not bother with blindfolds this time, a fact that Obi-wan was both grateful for and amused at. Such a show of trust from the nightsisters was entirely unheard of. And yet –

It seemed Obi-wan lived to be proven wrong. Not that he was complaining. In fact, it was a rather nice occurrence.

Dres was nowhere in sight but Obi-wan could feel her force presence just on the edge of his awareness, a spark of electricity that was tinged with an edge of resignation. Where once her energy had jumped and writhed like lightning in a bottle, now it felt almost static, as though it had come to a standstill. Funny, how she had been so insistent that she hated goodbyes and yet here she was to see them off. (Obi-wan knew how frighteningly loyal she had been so quickly. Really, it wasn’t so funny at all). She was following them through the swamps, watching out for them even now. He chuckled under his breath, of course Dresdema would follow them out here to watch over them. He got the feeling that the force itself could not stop her from achieving whatever she had set her mind to.

He was grateful, it meant he could feel that sharp buzz in the force one last time.

They boarded the ship together, him and Cody. Nostalgia washed through him, memories of all the times they had walked up that ramp together. Everything was different this time though. This time Obi-wan could hold his hand as they waved goodbye to the grinning nightsister, he could turn and place a kiss on his cheek as they settled into the cockpit.

He could know that someone loved him as they took off from the swamps, heading out towards the nightbrother village and leaving the sisters behind them.

Savage had known from the minute the offer left the Jedi’s mouth what his answer would be. There was not much thought to be put into it. Feral wanted to go, and Savage would do whatever made Feral happy. Whatever was best for his little brother, he would do in a heartbeat. Even if that meant leaving the only home he had ever known, the planet he had spent his entire life on. Not that it mattered, anywhere else would be better than Dathomir anyway, only pain and death awaited them here. Whatever lay beyond the borders of the planet could not be worse.

Still, Savage had to make sure the Jedi was serious in his offer and his sentiment. Any sign of cruelty and he would take Feral and run. He seemed to be genuine enough, but people could be tricky like that. Not that Savage knew many other people apart from the nightbrothers, but he had met a nightsister once and it had taught him to never trust how things appeared. It was important he knew that the man would keep his word, for his younger brother’s sake and for his own.

So, the three days. If the man agreed, he was likely trustworthy. If he had tried to force them to make a decision immediately – well. There would have been nothing Savage could do if that that had happened, but at least they would have known he was untrustworthy. Then they would have known what to expect, how to avoid angering the man and maybe (hopefully) surviving the situation.

As it stood, Savage had no idea what to expect or what the jedi was expecting of him. Mostly, he was worried for Feral. Ever since the two strangers had visited, his little brother had gotten it into his head that he was going to run off and be a jedi. Savage had almost gone mad with the hours spent listening to Feral talk his damn ears off about the jedi’s this and that and all of the legends surrounding them.

(He would never admit how much he enjoyed those conversations. His rapid attention at the mention of the force would be a secret taken to his grave.)

He just hoped, he really truly hoped by the fanged and winged god that Feral would not have his dreams crushed. These men were strangers, outsiders who were only getting them off world because they owed it to mother Talzin, they had no obligation to give the nightbrothers anything.

The man had said he was indebted to them though, not the sisters. Somehow, he was indebted to him and his brother. Savage did not believe him. How could this man who he had never met before be so intent in repaying this debt that Savage hadn’t even known about?

If worst came to the worst, he could take Feral and run. They could find a planet somewhere in the outer rim, quiet and peaceful. Maybe they could be farmers, they certainly knew enough about hunting and gathering to survive. Though Feral would be more likely to join a pirate crew if only for the adventure of it. Still, whatever they did, it would be better than here.

He just had trust that it would be better than here.

The past two days had been nothing more than a waiting game, anything of value packed away in bags that sat by the door in case the men returned early. Preparation was important, and Savage knew the Jedi and the clone would likely not want to wait on the two of them. So they had organized everything the first chance they got, and then had come the long hours of waiting.

It was almost torturous, the not knowing. Every nightmarish situation Savage dreamed up was likely ten times worse than whatever was in store for them, but his brain refused to stop. No matter how much he tried to turn it off or think of all the cool planets out there to visit, he could only envisage him and Feral in the worst situations.

It was draining, and by the time the men actually arrived on his doorstep, Savage had gone right past terrified and into impatience. Scratch that, he had gone right passed terrified, taken a left at impatience and walked right into pissed off. The frustration lurked on the edge of his skin, that prickling feeling that was desperate for movement, for something to actually happen. A bizarre phenomenon to be sure, but not entirely unwelcome. Exhaustion had stolen away his ability to feel the horrible pull of anxiety, and now he was all too ready to be gone from this godforsaken planet.

Clouds passed overhead, and it took a minute for Savage to realized that they were not clouds at all. They were shadows, cast by the hull of the ship that the Jedi and the clone were certainly on. The hulking mass of metal came down to land beside the village, and as Feral tried to bring his jaw back up off the floor, Savage waited outside to greet the two men.

Before, they had felt exactly the way Feral had described it. The calm and the storm, one unmoving, the other a mass of powerful energy.

Something was different this time. The jedi was calmer, more at ease, not so ready to reach for the weapon at his hip. Whether that was a good thing or not, Savage didn’t know, but it was certainly something. The clone on the other hand was not as impassive, less unmoving stone and more flexible roots. Where once he would have broken, Savage was certain he would bend.

Whatever had changed, Savage thought he was glad for it. There was no logical explanation for why, but he felt less intimidated by these versions of the men than the ones he had met previously.

“Have you decided?” The jedi, Obi-wan Kenobi if Savage was remembering correctly, asked as he came to a stop in front of them. Feral, it seemed, had managed to quite gawking at the ship and was now gawking at the men. Again.

Savage fought the urge to sigh. They had seen them three days ago and here Feral was acting all star struck again. At least his speechlessness prevented him from rambling out his force facts or theories on the jedi. That really would have been the icing on the cake.

“Yes. We are going.” Savage said, injecting as much patience as he could manage into his voice. They were leaving this planet one way or another, and he wanted it to be sooner rather than later. The quicker this happened, the less time he would have to slip back into the anxiety that had gripped him for the past few days.

Obi-wan smiled, a genuine one that Savage thought suited his face. Then he motioned to the ship. “Once you have your things, we can depart. It would be a pleasure to travel with you, Savage and Feral.”

And this was it. Their ticket out of here. Savage had never thought he would be anything other than a warrior, a tribute or slave to the nightsisters when they finally grew bored of their occult magicks and assassinations. And now? The whole galaxy was out there waiting for him, waiting for Feral too.

Savage wasted no time in grabbing their bags and following the men onto their ship. This was their one chance at freedom, he was not about to let it pass them by.

Of all the things Cody knew about Obi-wan, the knowledge that he would forgive anyone for anything was one of the most confusing. Perhaps it was his Mandalorian blood, or even his experiences with his brothers, but Cody could hold one hell of a grudge. The wrath of Commander Cody was known throughout the 212^th and the army as a whole, and Cody didn’t feel bad about it at all.

Obi-wan couldn’t hold a grudge if his life depended on it. And in this case, it quite possibly did. After seeing so much loss and pain, his General had come back and forgiven the clones, forgiven him.

(He had forgiven general Skywalker as well. Even after – yellow eyes and the stench of burning flesh – after that.)

No problem. It was fine. Obi-wan could be kind and forgiving, it was one of the things Cody loved about him. He knew though that it was simply a pat of who he was, and Cody wouldn’t change that even if he could. He also knew, however, that it could end painfully for his wonderfully optimistic jedi. Seeing the good in everyone often meant you couldn’t see the bad, and that made a person vulnerable. So, Obi-wan would forgive, but Cody wouldn’t.

(That went for general Skywalker too. He was about to find his life a lot more difficult from now on. Missing paperwork, broken caff machines, harmless order mix-ups, the works. Cody would see to it.)

Despite Obi-wans best attempts to conceal it, Cody had seen the Savage he had known in the future. A hulking brute cutting through jedi and padawans alike. And yeah, maybe it wasn’t Cody’s place to say who did and didn’t deserve forgiveness, but that was a pretty solid tally in the ‘didn’t’ category. Trusting Obi-wan more than himself was the only reason he hadn’t said something about the little addition to the party, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t be suspicious.

If Obi-wan wasn’t going to keep an eye on their guests, Cody would. Any sign of betrayal or violence, and the bow strapped to his back would be used sooner rather than later.

“Woah.” The younger Zabrak, Feral, said as he spun around in the ship, eyes taking in every inch of metal plating. Honestly, it wasn’t that impressive. Really it was nothing more than a small freighter, designed only for transporting people from place to place. The republic certainly had fancier ships at hand.

Feral didn’t seem to care. Having never seen a spaceship before probably helped in that regard.

“Savage look! It’s a sabback deck! I’ve never seen a real one before. Do you think we could learn to play?” Feral rambled, and Savage only smiled fondly. He placed a hand on his brother’s shoulder, steering him away from the table.

“I’m sure we could find some time to learn.” He placated, and Cody was struck with a sudden pang of longing for his brothers. No matter how frustrating or annoying they were at times, he loved them. Never had he ever been away from them for so long, Kamino was always crowded, and the front lines were never quiet. Cody, as loathe as he was to say it, missed those di’kuts more than he realized.

No. He couldn’t get sentimental. Observation of the possible enemies was the most important thing. He would not slack off on this self-assigned mission.

“So, we headed back to the temple?” He asked Obi-wan as he clambered into the co-pilot seat, readying himself for take-off.

“I do believe so, unless our zabrak friends want to make a detour?” Obi-wan answered, glancing back at their travelling companions, the older of which was standing awkwardly in the middle of the room, the younger still running his hands over the metal as if he couldn’t believe it was real.

“yes sir, I mean, no sir. We don’t need to make a detour, uh, sir.” Savage said, wincing slightly at the way his words seemed to tangle into each other.

“There’s no need to call me sir, just Obi-wan is fine Savage.” His general said, smiling as he flipped the switches on the panel and soon the engine was thrumming to life. There was a muffled woah from behind them as the ship pulled upwards, hovering about a meter from the ground .

“The temple it is.”

And then they were off, bursting through the outer atmosphere of the planet. By this point, both Savage and Feral were craning their necks to get a peak out of the windows, spying the red blob that was their planet below them.

“I’ve got our route calculated. Ready to jump to lightspeed?” Obi-wan asked, glancing at Cody mischievously as he jerked his head back towards the two passengers.

Oh, this was going to be far too much fun.

“You got it.” He said, grinning impishly as he brought his hand over the switch. “On three?”

Obi-wan chucked, rolling his eyes. Usually, they would just make the jump and be done with it, but where was the fun in that. The Zabraks had never been in a ship before, never mind a ship at light speed. If they were going to do this, they were going to make it memorable.

“Three,” He grinned

“Two,” Obi-wan smirked

“One!” They called together, and then Cody pushed the switch and the world was whizzing past them. There was a startled cry from behind before Feral came into view in his periphery vision, staring wide-eyed at the blur of stars that seemed to streak past until they simply became a white line of light.

Savage followed, seemingly against his better judgement. His approach was quieter, stilted almost, but he came to stand beside his brother, nonetheless. Minutes passed as they stood there, jaws agape and eyes fixed to the window before them.

Then, as though a spell was broken, Savage whispered under his breath, “We’re free.” He turned to Feral, and Cody smiled as they pressed their foreheads together, spikes tangling with each other in a way he was certain was meaningful to their culture. It was kind of cute actually.

Obi-wan was giving him a pointed look, and Cody sighed.

Yeah, yeah it was unlikely that the brothers were going to slaughter them in their sleep. Still, constant vigilance! Just because they were getting all sappy and hugging each other didn’t mean Cody was about to forget everything that had happened. Would happen? Wouldn’t happen hopefully but whatever.

Their little display was making it incredibly hard to actually believe in any of the ‘suspicious activity’ he was looking for. Once they had shown how happy they were to be off of their planet and somewhere safe, his brain had decided they were no longer a threat.

Obi-wan was smiling, and Cody let the subject drop from his mind. For now, he would let them be happy. And if it turned out they were a threat? Well. He would burn that bridge when they got to it.

For now, he stood up, placed a kiss on Obi-wans forehead and turned to the brothers.

“Fancy a game of Sabback?”

The first sign of trouble was that there were no signs of trouble. A very rare things for Obi-wan that he was immediately suspicious of. Behind him, the Zabrak brothers and Cody were locked in a game of sabback. It had taken quite a while for the rules to be explained, but now the three were so engaged they had not even noticed Obi-wans observation.

It was a good thing, he decided. The anxiety and frustration that had clung to Savage like a second skin had melted away, and Feral was less overwhelmed than before and now seemed absolutely determined to lose his entire hand.

Things felt calm, nice even, and that was the problem. Hours had passed without a hitch, they were perfectly on schedule and damn it, that was putting Obi-wan on edge.

It was then, of course, that things started going wrong.

In the seconds it had taken for him to walk over to the huddle of determined Sabback players with the intent to join the game and assuage some of his worries, an entire force presence suddenly appeared behind him.

Without thinking, he ignited his lightsaber and whirled, coming face to face with a sheepish Merrin.

“Merrin?” He asked incredulously, and then Cody was on his feet beside him. Quickly, he deactivated his lightsaber before he terrified the poor girl even more. What the hell was going on? Obviously, she had hidden away on the ship, and oh this was not good.

“What on earth are you doing here? Your sister must be so worried! Wait a minute, how did you hide your force presence like that?” The questions tumbled out of his mouth in a panicked whirl as he checked her over for injuries. The last one stuck in his mind because really, how had she managed that? Obi-wan was a fully trained Jedi master, that shouldn’t have even been possible!

“Nightsister secret. Good for sneaking around.” Merrin said, grinning up at him. One of her baby teeth had fallen out yesterday, and she was now sporting a large gap at the front of her mouth. It made it incredibly hard for Obi-wan to even consider being angry with her. “And it’s fine. Dres knows I’m here.”

“She what?”

Merrin nodded seriously, eyes glancing between himself and Cody. “She saw me sneak on board after you. She knows I’m safe with you.”

Obi-wan ran a hand down his face. As nice as Dres’ trust was, if she even did know Merrin was here, it had made his situation infinitely more difficult. Not only were they returning to the temple with two Zabraks, but also with a baby nightsister on board. Great. The council would be thrilled.

“We can’t turn back.” Cody filled in, “We are already on course, there isn’t enough time.”

Merrin was still smiling. Clearly this had been the plan. Only revealing herself when it was too late to go back. Clever, but stupid. What had she been thinking? Why had Dresdema just let her leave? Not worth thinking about to be honest, Dresdema was an enigma of another kind.

“Okay,” He said, “this is what’s going to happen, I’m going to call your sister to make sure she knows your safe, and then we are going to have a little chat about how stowing away on a ship is illegal.”

“I’m not a stowaway!” She protested immediately. “I’m a – uh – a….”

“A stowaway?” Cody asked teasingly and Merrin pouted, flashing Obi-wan those big puppy dog eyes that would have worked if he didn’t have so much experience with both Anakin and Ahsoka using that exact expression. Tough luck kid.

“This is non-negotiable.” He said firmly, and she sighed, then nodded. “Alright then. I’ll call your sister.”

He came back to himself for a minute, remembering the other passengers on board. Right, that could complicate things. As far as he knew, relations between the nightsisters and brothers were less than friendly. Their culture was matriarchal, which often meant the nightbrothers did not have the best of times in the village.

Time to play mediator.

“Merrin, this is Savage and Feral. They will be accompanying us to the Jedi temple. As will you, now that you have managed to sneak on board.”

That last sentence was supposed to sound annoyed, though he got the feeling that his tone was a little too impressed to convey that. If the sly grin Cody shot him was anything to go by, he had failed entirely at delivering that reprimand.

Savage stared at Merrin, gaze somewhere between assessing and suspicious. Thank the force for Feral who seemed to have no such qualms.

“Uh hi! I’m Feral. Are you a nightsister? I’ve never met one before.” He said, bending down to get a good look at the newest addition to their crew.

Merrin giggled at the sheer energy that was Feral Oppress, then stuck her hand out for him to shake. Feral stared for a minute before hesitantly taking the outstretched limb. “I’m Merrin, a nightsister in training!” She said, smiling gleefully at Feral’s whispered cool. It seemed those two would get along like a house on fire then. Perfect.

Savage seemed on the brink of jumping into the exchange and dragging his brother away. Obi-wan watched him closely, trying to determine how this was going to go. In the end, Savage managed to steel his resolve and bowed stiffly. “I am Savage.”

Merrin laughed again. “You don’t need to bow silly. I’m not a full nightsister yet. I bet you’re wayyy stronger than I am.”

The miffed look that Savage sported was enough to make Obi-wan lose his composure and burst out a laugh. Really, they were all so young and adorable. Attachment was forbidden, but Obi-wan was certain he was getting just the teeniest tiniest bit attached to the kids around him.

“As nice as these greetings are, I don’t think any of us have eaten for the past few hours. Who wants a nerfburger?”

He was met with three pairs of questioning eyes.

“Uhm, what’s a nerfburger?”

Chapter Text

"Balance is found in the one who faces his guilt." - Season 3, Episode 15

Redness flooded his vision, warping with the blurry edges of white surrounding it. For a minute or two, it was the only thing Tup could see, a big old blob of blurred reds and whites that bled into each other. Then it sharpened slightly, fuzzy edges turning to straight lines and the mix of colors smoothing out into something identifiable.

Another few minutes passed before he worked out that the weird red object floating in front of his vision was not an object at all, and instead was none other than General Ti.

The second he came to this realization, he tried to pull himself up into a salute. Protocol was protocol, even if he wasn’t entirely sure what was going on. Before he could, however, a soft hand landed on his forehead, keeping him firmly on his back.

“Easy soldier,” A voice said from somewhere above him, gentle and soothing, “take your time.”

Take his time for what? He was…. was – where was he again?

Things began to come back to him in bits and pieces, walking into a room and quickly wanting to walk back out, hacking away at a computer in search of something, though he couldn’t quite remember what. He had found something though, he remembered that much. Something bad, something –

Something in his head.

Panic seized his as the memory came back to him. Realization struck again, cloying and horrid as the knowledge that he had a chip in his head that could make him kill his general came rushing back.

“The chip –“ he rasped, trying to find the words he needed to ask if it was gone, if Shaak Ti had managed it. He was still searching for a way to form those sentences when the jedi smiled, two parts gentle and the other a vicious savage that would have caused even the bravest of men to cower.

“It is gone.” She said simply, and Tup deflated, all of the sudden panic and shock that had coursed through him fleeing his body. Thank force. It was gone, they had gotten it out of him.

But it was still in his brothers. All two million of them. One sentence, that was all it would take. A few words and they would be forced to raise their guns on their generals, their friends and – that was not good. Oh force that was not good at all.

“General Ti, my brothers, the chips, how –“ He cut himself off. The panic was back again, suffocating in the tightness it supplied to his chest. Breathing became a difficulty, his mind blurring with intrusive thoughts of his brothers reduced to mindless shells, nothing more than the droids they fought.

General Ti sighed, and now that Tup was focusing on her, she seemed far more tired and stressed than he had originally processed. He understood entirely.

“I will send word to the council, they will begin de-chipping your brothers in secret whilst we figure out why the kaminoans felt the need to –“ She stuttered off, losing her composure for a minute as her face clouded with a rage Tup had never seen before this “to do this.”

A thought seemed to strike her then as she straightened suddenly, eyes widening in realization. Nothing was said for a moment as she rested her chin in her hand, probably thinking over whatever thought had jumped into that clever brain of hers.

“There is no way to de-chip all of the clones on Kamino without alerting the Kaminoans.” She said after a long while, beginning to pace the room with long strides. The statement felt like a punch to the gut, but Tup knew she wasn’t finished, not yet. “But alerting them would not be such a problem if they could not call for aid.”

The words hung in the air between them, and a sense of apprehension clawed its way over him. What she was saying – it was treasonous. Was she Suggesting they sabotage the coms? Or something… worse.

“Unless we wanted them to call for aid.” She mused, and know Tup was really lost. Why would they want the Kaminoans to call for help? Uncaring to his confusion, Shaak Ti continued on. “Kenobi knows more than he is letting on, that much is clear.” She was speaking more to herself now than anything else. “Perhaps he could not say over the coms. Either way, it was obviously important. And the Kaminoans and the clones are caught up in it as well.”

Tup tracked her as she paced up and down the small room they had found. A little cramped, but a perfect place to complete his surgery in private without the threat of discovery. Each length of the room was only five paces for the long legs of the Togruta, but the movement seemed to help her think, no matter how limited it was in the tiny space.

Abruptly, she stopped dead in the center of the room. Standing still as a statue, her eyes flickered wildly before settling, and it was clear she had come to some sort of conclusion.

“I may not know what Obi-wan is planning, but whatever it is will likely be highly dangerous and extremely important,” She concluded, then paused for a moment before fondly adding, “it always is with him.”

Her smile was rueful, almost exasperated at whatever memories she had conjured of General Kenobi getting himself into trouble. Tup wasn’t sure what passed as normal for Jedi, but if their mischief was anything like that of his brothers, he understood her exasperation entirely.

Visibly shaking the moment of nostalgia off, she barreled on. “Which means he is going to need help.” She turned to him, gaze a mix of regretful and pleading. “Tup, I know I have no right to ask this of you, but I must once again implore you to help in this task.”

Well, Tup had already gone against the kaminoans by helping her hack into their systems, and that was before he had gotten their damn chip surgically removed from his head. How much worse could it get?

“Whatever you need me to do General, I’m at your service.”

Shaak Ti smiled, a wonderfully terrifying thing with far too many teeth. It was thrilling, and the shot of adrenaline rushed through him in a quick burst. “Excellent.” She said simply, and Tup smiled.

“What’s the plan then?”

Her hand came up to stroke her chin again, an action that he was certain every Jedi exhibited. Not that he had met any other jedi, but it seemed like that kind of wizened force user gesture. “If I’m right,” She began carefully, “and I think I am, Obi-wan Kenobi is going to be needing our help. He was the one to tell me about the chips, and I think he knows more.”

Obi-wan Kenobi, high General of the gar, council member, excellent jedi master, and the first to know about the chips apparently. Figures. And knowing more? More about what, the chips? No, not the chips themselves, he realised, the jedi knew about who was behind them.

“You think he’s going after the person who made the orders.” He summarized, knowing his theory was correct as master Ti grimaced, then offered him a tight smile.

“I do. And when he does, he is going to need the attention of the galaxy somewhere else. That is where we come in.” She said, before smiling again. It was her scary one again, the one that was all predator and made it seem as though she was about to swallow you whole. “We, my dear Tup, are going to start a revolution.”

A revolution she said. Because that was going to be so easy, a simple walk in the park, an average Tuesday. Yeah right.

Oh well, it wasn’t like Tup had anything better to do.

Revolution it was then. The kaminoans were not going to know what hit them.

Mace was having a bad day. This was a common occurrence and seemed to be happening more and more frequently as the clone wars marched dutifully on. Out of all of the bad days that made up the terrible year he was having, this one was competing to be the worst.

Starting off strong, he had been forced to watch Ponds be executed, then had gotten himself blown up, knocked unconscious, bullied by one very insistent and utterly terrifying (not that he would tell her that) Vokara Che, and then had somehow become responsible for having a literal child put in prison. On top of that, he would have to inform Kenobi of the involvement of his padawan and grandpadawan, the former of which had also been blown up, and then deliver a long, drawn-out report to the council that he himself was on.

Not to mention his headache that would not seem to go away. Shatterpoints were appearing everywhere he looked, and none of it made any damn sense!

So yes, Mace would say he was having a particularly bad day.

Amazingly, things had only gotten worse. Because apparently that was possible.

From the moment that Obi-wan answered his com, Mace knew something was up. A very specific expression was on his face, and Mace had known the man long enough to recognize the ‘I’ve done nothing wrong, you can’t prove anything’ face. Which, obviously, meant he had done something very wrong and was now stalling for time.

So, instead of opening with the news about his padawan being blown up again, he went and got himself involved.

“What have you done.” He deadpanned, eyes narrowing to form his notorious angry face that had scared away many a youngling. Depa was the only one immune to it, finding it hilarious instead of threatening.

“What makes you think I’ve done anything? Honestly Mace, have a little more faith in an old friend.” Obi-wan said, face twisted into mock offense at the fact that he would even consider something so preposterous. Mace was not convinced, Obi-wan was always getting himself into trouble and it was evident that he was hiding something.

“What is that thing?” a decidedly young voice tried to whisper. Obi-wan flinched, and Mace knew he had been caught out.  “Oh wow its moving – ow!” the voice cut out, something happening on the other side of that all that Mace couldn’t see.

“Shhh, he told us to stay quiet remember?” A different voice said, this one sounding even younger than the first. Mace would have been outraged had he not expected something exactly like this.

“Kenobi, please tell me why there are two children on your ship. Kidnapping is generally frowned upon.” He said, reminding his old friend how this would look to half of the world and the fact that the council would likely go berserk.

“Well, it’s kind of a long story. I didn’t kidnap anyone, technically.”

“Technically?” Mace asked, because it was never good when someone had to use ‘technically’ when explaining how they were not a kidnapper.

“Yes. One of them is a stowaway – “

“Hey!” the youngest voice interjected; offense clear in their tone.

“And the other two are – well I suppose you could say they are my wards.” Obi-wan finished, tucking his hands into the sleeves of his robe and smiling serenely. The bastard, he was having too much fun ticking off the entire order. How had he managed to get another ward after Skywalker? Who had died for him to be entrusted with another child?

No. Mace didn’t care, this was not his problem.

“I am – going to let master Yoda deal with you.” He said, because there was nothing else he could think of doing. Whatever the older members of the council decided would be fine, Mace was far too tired to get into any of this at present.

“I assume you had a reason for calling?” Obi-wan prompted, and Mace jumped back into reality, remembering the rest of his hellish day.

“Yes. Your padawan got blown up again. He’s fine, don’t worry. Boba Fett has been very vocal about his dislike of the jedi and managed to catch me and Skywalker in a blast, but thanks to young padawan Tano we were able to apprehend him.” He said, watching as Obi-wans expression flickered from concern for his padawan to pride at Tano’s actions, then into contemplation.

“I see. We are returning to the temple and should arrive there in a few days. Please give Anakin and Ahsoka my best and tell them I shall see them soon.” Kenobi said, and Mace nodded his agreement.

“May the force be with you, Obi-wan.”

“And with you.”

The Com clicked off and Mace felt the distinct urge to bang his head against the wall. Instead, he made his way to the caff machine and brewed as strong a pot as he physically could. If he was going to go and talk to the council about this new development, he was going to need it.

As the machine spat out dark liquid into a mug, he couldn’t help but wish it was another kind of drink. All he wanted to do was sit back and have a nice evening, maybe watch a holo-drama with Depa. But no. The council first, and then he could face the emotion he was desperately trying not to focus on.

Guilt was not uncommon to Mace, but it still stung. He had deprived a young child of their father, had made them watch as he severed the head from the body. Not only that, but he had condemned the youngling to prison, and Mace knew it would not be a juvenile one.

It was ridiculous, and horrid what the world could do to a child.

Mace knew he couldn’t just sit back and do nothing. In another time, perhaps he would have moved past it. He would have looked at Kenobi forcibly keeping his distance from Skywalker to avoid appearing attached, and he would remember the pressure the jedi were under to conform to the senate’s ruling.

This was not another time.

Instead, Mace thought of Obi-wan, who was on his way back to Coruscant with two random kids, who was about to face the wrath of the council and thought ‘well I can’t do any worse’.

In this time, Mace knew what he had to do. He was going to get the kid out.

(On a ship heading through hyperspace, a time traveler looked at his posse of feral children and thought ‘what’s one more?’ before retiring to his room. He needed to find the layout of the prison and the guard rotations after all.)

There was a lot of things that Slick hated about prison. Quite frankly, there was a lot of things to hate, mundane routines, shitty rooms, even shittier roommates. Worst of all was the food, somehow managing to taste even more like carboard than the rations he had eaten on the front lines. Don’t ask him how that was possible, he really didn’t know. Whatever creature was making the sludge for them would be better suited to a kitchen in hell and were either a sadistic asshole or one hell of a bad cook.

The staring was another thing he hated. Yeah, he was a clone, he was in prison, get over it. Just because he looked exactly like all of his brothers didn’t mean he had the same naïve beliefs; he hated the republic as much as they did. Still, that didn’t stop them from staring suspiciously when he passed and giving him a wide berth. Whatever. Not like he cared.

Above all of that though, above his hatred of the tiny cell and the shitty freshers and the less than desirable company, there was nothing Slick hated more than the kid.

Boba had only been in prison for two days and he was already driving him around the bend. And here Slick had thought he would be free from his brothers within the questionable comforts of Coruscant’s prison.

Honestly, he was certain that whatever idiot had placed Boba here had forgotten there was another clone locked away. Slick was known for getting his brothers killed, and here one was, shoved into the same prison as him. It was a conflict of interest and all that. Maybe if they had remembered, Slick wouldn’t be trying to eat his lunch in peace whilst a pint-sized cadet that shared his face glared at him from across the room. But here he was.

Slick grumbled, shoving another mouthful of brown sludge down his throat as fast as he could, trying to avoid tasting it. Boba glared even harder, seemingly intent on drilling a hole through Slicks skull with his eyes. If only looks could kill, then he wouldn’t have to sit through this goddamn meal with his little (technically older) brother plotting his murder.

You see, the thing was, since being imprisoned Slick had been given a lot of time to think. There wasn’t much else to do, so stewing and thinking it was. There had been no revelations of guilt or sudden loyalty to the republic, no ebbing away at the anger he felt at the way they treated him, but there had been – something. All alone in a prison cell at night, Slick had actually found himself missing his brothers. Wasn’t that a thought? He actually missed those idiots who had latched onto the jedi like a lifeline.

Well, no one was perfect. Not even him.

He had been thinking about something else as well, something that he couldn’t shake from his mind. General Kenobi had always been an enigma to the clones, to Slick as well. It was him who Slick found himself thinking about, turning over each interaction in his mind. He started with everything he knew about the man and went from there.

Fact number one; Kenobi was often referred to as the perfect jedi, and from what Slick had seen it wasn’t an exaggeration. He was calm, careful, and never one for recklessness.

Fact number two; Kenobi loved Skywalker, for whatever reason. And even though he loved Skywalker, he would never within a million years show it. That particular emotion was hidden far beneath his mask of indifference.

Fact number three; the first two facts had been completely challenged by the General’s behavior since Christophsis.

So, in short, Slick knew nothing at all about the man. Not the best place to start from, but hey, Slick had figured out more with less. From all of his interactions with Kenobi, he was certain that the man was a compassionate but reserved Jedi who was an excellent fighter and strategist. Nothing more, nothing less.

But –

But there had been a part of him on show that day, when he had come and talked to Slick wanting answers, that he was certain had never been on show before. Nat-borns and Jedi didn’t look at the clones in the way that Kenobi did, with that pitiful longing and grief and rage. Yes, he hid it well, but Slick was all too familiar with rage, and it was there clear as day. What did the jedi have to be angry about? They were the ones who had bought the clones like cattle. It didn’t make sense for Kenobi to suddenly be angry about this fact when he was the one who had collected them from Kamino.

And yet – Kenobi had cared for the Vode. That much was clear. He had looked at Slick, who had just betrayed him and sold out half his men, and smiled softly when he told him to get some rest. That was not the mark of a man who enjoyed the suffering, nor the enslavement of others.

Which meant Slick had to do some recalculating. Again.

It felt like he was on the edge of something, though what it was he couldn’t say. He was sure he would be able to figure it out easier, however, without the little gremlin staring at him.

The moment that thought passed his mind, he regretted it.

Speak of the devil and he will appear, as the saying went, and how true that was. It seemed Boba had taken Slick’s moment of introspection to march over to his table, tray of food in hand, and plonk himself down opposite him. Perfect. Just what Slick was looking for today, a lovely little family reunion.

“You need something kid or you just gonna keep staring at me?” He asked, not even bothering to make eye contact. The faster the kid left, the faster he could work out what the hell was going on with the jedi. His plan seemed to have the opposite effect though, Boba’s noise scrunching up in annoyance.

“I’m not a kid.” He argued “I’m older than you are.”

Technically correct, not that Slick was about to admit it. Little brats didn’t deserve his attention anyways. He nodded noncommittally and continued eating. The growl that left Boba’s mouth made the following events entirely worth it.

“You’re the traitor, right? The one who went against the republic?” Boba hedged, moving away from the topic of kids and age. Good for him, but not so good for Slick. This was not a conversation he wanted to have with his little (older) brother.

“What of it?” He asked, squinting at the kid. This could go real bad real quick if Slick wasn’t careful. Cadets annoyed him at the best of times, and if this kid was about to badger him about his betrayal Slick may very well implode.

“I need your help to –

“No.” He said as soon as the first few words of that sentence had processed. Yeah, no. He was most certainly not getting himself tied up in anything else thank you very much. The Republic already considered him a traitor and the separatist probably wouldn’t take to kindly to his survival either, he definitely was not in a position to piss off even more people.

“….NO? You didn’t even hear me out!” Boba whined, throwing his hands in the air like a drama queen. Children, honestly.

“Don’t need to, my answer is no.” He said in a tone that he thought would effectively shut down the conversation. He had given his answer and that was that. Case closed. Or it should have been, if Boba hadn’t been a difficult little brat.

“You could get revenge on the jedi from it, for what they did.” The kid said, obviously trying to sweeten the deal. A few months ago, it would have worked. Slick would have given anything to watch the Jedi suffer as he had. Now he wasn’t so sure. Something wasn’t adding up about the jedi’s role in all of this, and maybe in another life he wouldn’t care enough to figure it out but – Kenobi had looked at him like he was a person. He had kept him alive, given him medical attention, sent him to a prison instead of a slaughterhouse. It wasn’t like he owed the man, nothing so dramatic, but he couldn’t forget that kindness. Even if Slick was an asshole and Kenobi a jedi.

“I’m not too mad at the jedi. Ain’t done nothing to me.” He lied through his teeth, watching as Boba’s reaction cycled through confusion, to frustration, to anger.

“They enslaved you!”

“The republic enslaved me.” He corrected, enjoying being a prick just a little too much.

“Same difference.” Boba bit out, then fell silent. Cogs were turning in the kid’s head and Slick could see him mentally recalculating what it would take to get Slick on board. “A jedi killed my dad, I want revenge. I can get you out of this place. Are you in or are you out?” He said, straightforward and to the point. If only the kid had opened with that.

Slick was not sure how to answer.

There was a key thing to understand about Slick and it was this: he was a selfish asshole. He wasn’t going to deny it, hell in most cases he enjoyed being a dick. So, usually he would keep his head low, stay out of trouble and find some way to sneak out of prison sooner or later. There was no point in getting mixed up in something dangerous.

Except there was.

Slick – regretted how he had hurt his brothers. He didn’t feel guilty, not over something that had been the republics fault instead of his. But he did regret how they had gotten caught up in the crossfire. Now, none of his brothers were left for him to apologise to, there was no one he could explain his reasoning to.

Or there wasn’t, until the kid showed up. Maybe this was the universe giving Slick a sign to get off his ass and make an effort with his brothers, or maybe it was sheer dumb luck. Either way, Slick knew that he couldn’t just leave the kid here, no matter how much he cringed at sticking his neck out for someone.

Even if he loathed it, he owed it to his dead brothers to help out all the Vode.

“Look kid, I don’t care about your dad, no offense. Jango Fett was Dar’manda who treated any clone who wasn’t you like Osik.” He said and watched as Boba’s face twisted into fury. Well, he was not dealing with interrupting thanks.  “No, don’t even argue because you know I’m right. I don’t care about your father, but I do care about you.”

Boba’s mouth was hanging open by then, staring blankly at him. Slick didn’t know much about the kid’s upbringing, but he could almost imagine how it had been. Outcast from the world for being a clone, outcast from the Vode for being the primes son. Pretty rough for a cadet. He rolled his eyes, shaking off the rare bout of sympathy.

“Oh, don’t look so surprised, you’re still my brother. So, here’s the deal, I help you bust out of this prison, and then you give up your Jedi hunt.”

That was a good deal right? Freedom in exchange for not getting yourself killed. Anyone else would be falling over themselves to accept. Unfortunately, Boba was not anyone else.

“Why would I give up on my revenge?! My father deserves justice!” Boba said, slamming his fork down on the table for emphasis and splattering Slick with brown slop in the process.

Lovely.

There was a part of him that wanted nothing more than to throttle the kid for that, but another part of him looked at Boba and saw Slick. They were really quite similar, even without their faces being entirely identical. Slick had been young and angry once, still was most of the time if he was honest. Probably not the best influence to put on the kid, but hey, it could be worst. At least he wasn’t a Kaminoan.

So, no throttling. Keeping that to a minimum seemed like the correct course of action. A bit of negotiation would have to do.

He wiped the brown mush from his face and gave the kid his best ‘do that again and you’re dead’ face.

“Boba, you know you can’t get out of here without me, otherwise you wouldn’t have asked for help.” He said measuredly, trying to restrain himself from yelling. Boba was prideful, he wouldn’t have asked for help if there was another way. Really, they were so very alike. “If I break you out, I want you to actually live more than two weeks instead of going on a suicide mission to kill a jedi. So, you got two choices, stay here and rot, or break out with me and forget the jedi.”

Plain and simple, laid out in easy terms to understand. He wouldn’t make Boba decide now, they had all the time in the world after all, stuck as they were within Coruscant’s prison. Let the kid stew on it for a few days then see if he had changed his tune, that would do it.

So Slick stood up, and walked right past Boba to put his tray away. Once the kid had an answer, he would let Slick know. For now, he would do what he was best at. Plotting, planning, and a healthy dose of treason.

Either way, it was clear to Slick what he had to do. He was busting the kid out of here, no matter what his answer was.

Senator Amidala was many things, a ruthless politician with an eye for deception, an ally with a strong sense of justice, and a kind yet distant figure of Naboo who held the hearts of its people. She was beautiful and graceful, never seen without an elaborate hairstyle and outfit. She was calm and precise, passionate yet impassive. She was morality and righteousness and careful deference. But more than that, more than anything else, senator Amidala was a lie, crafted carefully over the many years of bureaucracy and queenship. Her personality was built on a foundation of deception, brick after brick of lies to create the illusion of a person, the image of inconspicuous existence. The façade had lasted for years – the practiced mask of unruffled beauty and grace. Because the truth was that senator Amidala was nothing at all.

Such was the way of the Nubians, a people who knew the value of deception. They were small because they wanted to be, vulnerable because it suited them, insignificant because there was nothing so damning as publicity. So, the people had grown accustomed to other methods of defense. It was how they had survived, how she had survived. Padme had saved more than just her own life with her queenly decoys and the knifes she kept hidden in the folds of dresses. Her knowledge of poisons had helped heal as well as hurt, and she knew the value of being unimportant. Forgettable.

And so, senator Amidala was nothing of importance. No personal attachments, preferences or biases.

Padme Naberrie-Skywalker, on the other hand, was entirely too real.

She was impulsive, stubborn, and far too strong headed for her own good. She liked to read when she wasn’t absorbed in senate debates or assassination attempts, had a loving jedi husband, and enjoyed the intricacies of fashion – though perhaps that was her time as queen talking.

Senator Amidala knew politics, but Padme knew people. It was what made her such a good queen, what allowed her to empathize with people in the way that she did, and it was the reason that she knew something was terribly wrong with Chancellor Palpatine.

At first it had been an itch in the back of her head, not unlike the beginnings of a headache. There was something off, something she had always been aware of on some level but could never quite place. It was disturbing, and endlessly frustrating. Things had only gotten worse from then on.

When Anakin had come to her that night, breath coming in short gasps and hands pulling helplessly at the ends of his hair, she knew that her chancellor related headache was about to grow even more severe.

As she held him, coaxing his breathing back to a regular rate, he told her everything. How unsafe he had felt, the man’s blatant hatred of Obi-wan, his disregard for Anakin’s choice when he had tried to leave. It was a shocking misuse of Chancellor Palpatine’s power, and it did not surprise her in the least. And then it had all started.

Padme knew deception intimately, as well as she knew the scar on her shoulder from the first assassination attempt she had survived. She knew the signs of a man who was hiding something, and Palpatine matched every description.

So, she had made a list, of all the suspicious things related to the man. And that was where her problem began.

The longer she wrote, the more there was to say. Every gap in his history led to more questions, every questionable action to an even more questionable motive. Each article she pulled up, every family tree and personal interview revealed the same thing. It was no surprise that he wanted power, that much was clear to all with a functioning pair of eyes. He had already encroached on the time limit of his term, claiming the war as a reason for his illegal actions. (Not illegal, he had made it lawful). What was not so clear to the public was the mysterious deaths. Palpatine’s entire family, all of his political rivals, anyone who stood in his way, they all met an unfortunate and untimely end. He had manipulated it all, every senator, every voting citizen and every scheming politician.

Even her. After all, he was the one who had pushed her to make the vote of no confidence, the very vote that had put him into power in the first place. And she had let him, worse still, she hadn’t noticed. No one had, not the manipulation, nor the deaths, or the random gaps in his histories.

How? How could all of them have missed something so obvious, something that was practically staring them in the face?

Padme did not know, but she would be damned if she was about to let it slide. She had to finish work on the clone rights bill with Bail, but something told her it would go through the senate far easier with Palpatine out of power.

Senator Amidala was a lie, but a useful one. And there was no other way to answer a bluff than with one of your own. So, Padme Naberrie-Skywalker concocted a plan. A sort of trap if you like, a very clever one for a very clever man. For that was certainly what Palpatine was.

No matter how clever he was though, how strong or powerful, he was nothing compared to the power of people. There was a very good reason why being invisible was considered a superpower, and once public opinion had swung one way, it was very difficult to undo. A few rumors here and a few stories dropped there, anonymous tips placed at the odd newspaper and perhaps a few leaked articles and everything would sort itself out.

Chancellor Palpatine had manipulated Senator Amidala and in doing so had threatened Padme Naberrie-Skywalker, and she would not allow that challenge to go unanswered. He had chosen to come after her in the realm of politics, the field of subtlety and deception.

His mistake. She was Nubian too, and she knew as well as he did the dangers of public scrutiny. A pity really, that people were already out there besmirching the chancellor’s good name. Padme wanted some of that fun for herself.

It started small, as all things tend to. Every day started with a sliver of sunlight, every earthquake with the tiniest of tremors, and every revolution with the most amiable of words. A man heard from a friend of a friend that his cousins sister thought Palpatine was getting a little too cozy in the chancellor’s seat. Perhaps it had been spoken in the din of a bar or passed along in the quiet exchange of words over a deathstick, but it was most certainly heard. One person whispered it to another, and soon the rumours began to build to a deafening crescendo.

Stories seemed to appear out of thin air, people who had heard this or that from someone or somewhere. Nothing concrete, nothing absolute, but everything dangerous.

Senate murders and conspiracies, embezzlement and fraud, it all seemed to surround one Sheev Palpatine and his grip over the politics of their republic.

And then came the article.

Written by a young up-and-coming journalist who had gotten an anonymous tip about the illicit activities of those in power, it described the early years of the chancellor and the suspicious deaths surrounding him. With the stories that had been circling for days by then, it was eaten up by the people as though they were starving. The outrage grew, the scandal told over and over, embellished and worsened.

The chancellor killed his family, they whispered to each other, now he is killing ours with the war.

A few days later, the journalist was found dead in her home. Supposedly a heart attack, though the coroners could not be sure. It was the final straw in the crumbling podium of Palpatine’s popularity. Suspicious wasn’t it, how anyone who spoke out against him disappeared. All threats to his power seemed to magically sort themselves out. The people did not understand it, and they feared what they did not understand.

(The funeral was paid for by a mysterious benefactor. Alone in a room on Coruscant, a queen cried for the loss of a young life, then got back to work.)

Days passed and the issue became taboo. Fear grew, and it twisted into resentment. They did not speak of it, not in such uncertain terms. Nobody wanted to find themselves suddenly and forcibly departed from the realm of the living. But they did talk, subtlety and quietly. They spoke of snakes disguised in the feathers of a peacock, strutting around and preening its feathers. They spoke of predators and prey, of shadows and light.

They spoke of jedi who had been sent into a war doomed to kill them. They spoke of clones dying and a senate who did not care.

Through it all, Palpatine watched, and Palpatine waited. No more mysterious deaths occurred, not when so much attention was pointed at his back. He was patient, he could wait this out. The people of the republic were wretched things with attention spans shorter than that of lothcats. One grand battle or Sith scandal and they would be back to singing his praises.

In due time, it would all come together in due time. But for now? He would simply let the wheels of the senate turn.

Chapter Text

"Truth enlightens the mind, but won’t always bring happiness to your heart." - Season 1, Episode 16

Savage did not know what he was expecting Coruscant to look like. A collection of large villages intersected by roads and airways perhaps, maybe there would be landing pads for large spacecrafts designed to carry goods, or even buildings that were multiple stories tall, carved from white stone and decorated with windows.

What he had not expected was – this.

The problem, Savage thought, was that Dathomir was his only frame of reference. All he had ever known was that tiny corner of the world he had inhabited, fifteen houses and one tribe. Every face was a familiar one, each name one he had said before. There was no such thing as a stranger in the nightbrother village.

If he had ever seen cities and towns before, if he had caught even so much as a glimpse of them, maybe then he would not have been as overwhelmed with the sprawling mass that was Coruscant.

As it was, he stood staring dumbly out of the spaceship’s window at the planet beneath him that, despite there being next to no natural flora visible, seemed to be one living, breathing being. Every inch of the planet’s surface was covered with layers of stone and metal and complex technologies that Savage couldn’t quite wrap his head around. The rush of traffic zigzagging through towering skyscrapers that lived up to their name and the flickering of light up billboards that hung from their walls gave off the impression that the planet itself was alive. For a minute, Savage contemplated if this was possible, for the activity occurring on the surface to be one giant hive mind. A curious thought, but an improbable one.

Far stranger than the way it looked, the thing that truly threw Savage off and made him stare in bewilderment at the planet beneath him was the way that it felt in the force.

On Dathomir, the force had been like mist. You knew something was there, could almost make out the shape of it, but each time you reached out an open palm to grasp it the feeling would slide through your fingers like smoke, and you were left with hands as empty as they started. On his home planet, Savage had never known anything different. He had accepted that the force was a grey entity that was impossible for him to control.

But Coruscant was nothing like Dathomir.

Where once there had been darkness, a blanket that had smothered any signs of sun, now there was sheer unadulterated joy and brightness that was almost blinding. Beneath his feet, a whole planet full of people went about their day, laughing and crying and grieving and living. The force existed between them all, an ever present field of energy that reflected their emotions as they dealt with problems that were cosmically mundane and yet individually profound.

Savage had never felt anything like it before. There was nothing that he had experienced in his lifetime that compared to the raw feeling of life that overcame him, all of that energy from all of those people knocking into him so suddenly.

A hand landed on his shoulder, and Savage turned to face the now familiar force presence of Obi-wan.

At first, the man had terrified him. The clone trooper as well. They were strangers, strangers who had an extreme amount of power of him and his brother. Savage had spent all of his life knowing he was less than the nightsisters, that he was expendable. He hadn’t tried to fool himself that it would be any different with the jedi.

But it had been.

No matter how many times Savage called Obi-wan ‘sir’ even though he had been asked not to, the man never raised his voice. No matter how many questions Feral asked in his near manic curiosity, Obi-wan answered them all with a patient smile and not a hint of frustration at the pestering. Even when the nightsister had snuck on board – a fact that had scared the life out of Savage and still did – the man showed nothing but fond exasperation for her.

It was disconcerting, the kindness that he seemed to exude. Savage kept waiting for the other shoe to drop, for the conditions and repayments and tricks. They never came.

Now, when Obi-wan put a hand on his shoulder, Savage did not flinch. When Cody handed him a ration bar and a water bottle, Savage did not wonder how he was going to pay for it. Even the nightsister girl, Merrin, had become less a source of fear and more a source of annoyance.

Whether it was a curse or a blessing that she got on so well with Feral, he didn’t know. It was still too early to tell.

“It is a lot, isn’t it?” Obi-wan asked, hand still placed gently on his shoulder, radiating warmth and the feeling of safety. Savage instinctively pressed back into the contact, fighting to keep the embarrassment from his face. It was just – it was nice to allow someone to this close without having to fear.

“Yes.” He said, still trying to build his shield up enough so that the din of pure energy was blocked from his mind.

Next to him, Feral and Merrin were doing the same. They had never left Dathomir either and this was likely as strange for them as it was for him.

“Just wait till we get to the temple,” Cody said lightly “I’m as force sensitive as a rock and even I can feel how calming it is there.”

Obi-wan nudged the man with his shoulder, smiling fondly as Cody nudged him back with a little more force.

That was another thing that Savage found strange. On Dathomir, the nightbrothers would be picked to mate with nightsisters or they wouldn’t mate at all. End of story, case closed. There were no feelings attached, nothing sentimental or loving, only clinical movements and the knowledge that it was essential for the survival of their species, unavoidable even.

The fact that two people, two individuals could look at each other like that was something very new to him.

The first time he had seen the two lock eyes in such a fashion, and again when he had watched them brush hands and laugh at each other’s jokes, he had wondered about what they were to each other. Merrin had caught him staring, and she grinned knowingly. “You see it too then.” She had said, and Savage was too busy trying to control his instinctual shot of panic at her attention to answer. Not that it mattered, she seemed just fine to continue the conversation on her own. “They’re in love.”

Of course, he knew about love in theory, but until he had met the strange jedi and his commander, he had never truly seen it in action. Was this what it was? Was what they felt for each other love? If so, Savage was of the opinion that it was incredibly underrated. Even after spending so little time in their company, Savage could tell how happy the two made each other from their sarcastic remarks and quiet conversations interspersed with huffed laughs, and a desire formed deep within him to one day have someone look and talk to him like that, fond and caring and desperately in love. He wanted to be able to make someone else happy.

And now he could. He wasn’t on Dathomir anymore, wasn’t bound to the nightsisters in any way shape or form. For the first time in his life, Savage was free to choose his own path.

“Jedi temple to Corellian light freighter, please state your identification and landing codes” A voice said, buzzing through the panel of the ship.

This was it, Savage thought. They were here, really truly here at the jedi temple on Coruscant.

Obi-wan spoke to the person in a voice too quiet for Savage to hear, though he was likely explaining who he was, and soon they were swooping down from the sky and coming down to land on the large concrete platform outside the temple. As the ground came up to meet them, Savage tried to squash down the anxiety that lurked in his chest. Obi-wan had said no harm would come to them, and as crazy as it was to say it, Savage trusted him.

Why he trusted a man he had met less than a tenday ago, Savage wasn’t sure. There was something about him though, something that stirred loyalty and admiration in all who he encountered. He could see it plain as day in the eyes of Feral and Merrin, and he could recognize it well enough in himself.

It was fine. Obi-wan was trustworthy. It would be fine.

Descending the ramp, the five of them came out onto the landing platform and immediately found themselves across from what looked like a giant frog, an Iridonian Zabrak, and a man with an incredibly large head that Savage tried very, very hard not to stare at.

“Master Kenobi, give us warning you could have that quests we would have, hmmm?” The giant frog said, and Savage tried not to let his shock at the fact that it could speak show. “Tidied up, I would have. Brushed my hair, no?”

That was a joke, right? The frog only had a few strands of white wisps that clung to his forehead. Was it a good or bad thing that they were making jokes?

“Where would the fun in that be?” Obi-wan said, smiling serenely and tucking his hands into the sleeves of his robe. It was a tell, Savage knew, a way of obfuscating and avoiding questions.

The Jedi with the long forehead trembled in the force slightly as his face darkened into anger. “What have you gotten us into now Kenobi?” He asked, and that was definitely not the warm welcome Savage was hoping for, though honestly he had not expected much different.

“I have gotten us into nothing, what I have gotten us out of is far more pressing. I ask that we discuss this immediately, and privately.”

The frog nodded, humming quietly and tapping his stick on the ground. “In the creche, the children will wait. Under supervision by a knight, they will be, whilst talk with us, you do.”

Obi-wan nodded, but turned to face him, Feral and Merrin, eyebrow raised in question. “Well? It is up to you three. I will not leave you alone if you really do not want me too.”

That was – kind. It was exactly the type of kindness that Savage had come to associate with the jedi, and it cemented his answer.

“No, its okay.” He said quickly before the other two could protest. “We’ll be fine.” He assured, and Obi-wan practically sagged with relief. It was all the confirmation that Savage needed to know he had chosen correctly. Obi-wan had done everything he could for them, it was Savage’s turn to do something for him, even if it was as simple as minding the children whilst he talked with his fellow jedi.

Obi-wan straightened up again, then nodded to the jedi in front of him. The temple doors stood tall and ominous in front of them, and even though he wouldn’t have Obi-wan by his side, Savage didn’t think he was afraid.

The force was calm, and so was he.

He walked through the threshold and into the temple. This was his life now, and he had made the choice to walk through those doors. Nothing could change that.

“Like your master, you are.”

“He’s reckless is what he is, bringing those children here from that planet.”

“We can’t let them stay.”

“He gets attached too easily, like that padawan of his.”

If he had an ounce of energy left in his body, Obi-wan would have bristled at the insult. He would have put his foot down and kicked up a fuss about how lucky they were to have Anakin as a member of the jedi order, would have scolded them for being so close minded and insensitive.

He did none of these things. Days of hyperspace, babysitting, and trying to glean what master Ti was planning from the mischievous glint in her eyes over the holocomm had sucked away the remaining drops of energy in his body. Nothing sounded more appealing to him in that moment than a proper shower instead of a sonic and a very long sleep tucked in the arms of his commander.

Instead, he was here facing the council and trying not to lose the flagging remnants of his patience. The only good thing about the situation was that Cody was here with him, meaning Obi-wan could put all of his focus on the steady presence behind him in an attempt to keep control of himself. It was only marginally working.

“My padawan has nothing to do with this and has only ever shown himself to be an exemplary Jedi.” Obi-wan said, more tiredly than sharply but at least it stopped Ki-Adi-Mundi from continuing his grumbling. “I did not ask you here for a private audience to discuss the habits of my master or my padawan, there is much more pressing concerns at hand.”

The room was silent for a moment and Obi-wan remembered quite suddenly that at this point in the past, he had been far too afraid of the council removing Anakin from his care to even look at them slightly wrong. Now, he had just gone and berated them for making some off handed comments about his teaching abilities. Oh well, so many things were already changing, what was one more?

“Speak, you will. Of these concerns, you will inform us.” Yoda demanded, banging his gimmer stick lightly on the floor. Well, at least he was being given the chance to speak. Yay him. Now all he had to do was convince the council that this fantastical tale he was about to give them was true.

“On Dathomir, I discovered a compulsion in the head of my Commander.” Something Rippled through the force, and it seemed as if the council members were noting Cody’s presence behind him for the first time. Before they had a chance to protest his attending of this council meeting, Obi-wan ploughed on. “Master Ti has already been informed of this and has confirmed that it is a biological control chip that it not limited to my commander but is embedded within the minds of all clones.”

“We were informed of no chips by the Kaminoans.” Master Tiin stated, glancing at Yoda unsurely.

“That is what worries me. Master Ti and I have had numerous discussions on the nature of the chip, and these were the list of voice activated orders we were able to decode from it.” Obi-wan said, thinking back to Master Ti’s distraught voice as she had detailed the endless list of horrors to him over the most secure coms channel they could possibly encrypt.

He pulled the small reconstructive device from his pocket and opened up the command list that they had found inscribed within the chips, allowing the council members to read through the orders. He could tell exactly when each member arrived at that order, each one sucking in a breath and paling slightly.

“This is not possible.” Master Kolar said, more a statement of disbelief than a genuine challenge to the information. Obi-wan understood, it was rather a lot to take in, and he wasn’t even finished yet.

“I assure you; it is.” He commiserated, feeling the force fluctuate rapidly with the conflicting emotions of all in the room. “Master Ti has already begun the de-chipping process on Kamino, and I aim to ensure you do the same with your battalions.” The council nodded, likely already coming up with plans to have all of their troops under the blade of a surgeon droid as quickly as possible and free from – from the orders. Unfortunately, it wasn’t quite as simple as that. “It is, however, essential that this is kept hidden from as many as possible, including the republic and its members.”

“You think it was put there by the Sith, the Sith that you believe is acting from within our own republic?” Plo Koon said slowly, puzzling it all out and evidently coming to the same conclusion as Obi-wan. There was still an unwillingness to accept it, still suspicion among the council at his words, but he knew that in the force, his words would ring true as a bell.

“I do not see any other possible explanation.”

“Master Yoda this is madness –“ Ki-Adi-Mundi protested, though was quickly shut up by a gimmer stick slamming into his shins.

“Begin this process, we will. A secret, it shall be kept.”

If he had to explain what relief felt like to a person who had never felt it before, he would describe this moment. The chips were going to be removed, the clones were going to be free from them. His commander would not be turned into a mindless droid, his people would not be slaughtered like animals. Not this time. Things were changing, they were changing for the better. For a moment, he allowed himself that false security. The belief that things were going to be alright.

But he wasn’t done. Not yet. He would not be finished until Palpatine was six feet under, preferably with a head that was separated from his body.

“I – I am afraid that is not all.” He said and every eye in the room snapped back to him. Discussions of possible solutions quieted, and once more it was Ki-Adi-Mundi who broke the silence with his frustration.

“What else could you have possible done?” He asked, glaring at Obi-wan as if it was him who had engineered the abuse of the clones and the Sith in the republic.

“Whilst on the planet Dathomir, I spent much time with a nightsister by the name of Mother Talzin, who until recently used to work for the Sith.” His intoned, removing all emotion from his voice and trying not to provoke outrage from the already antsy council members. There were a few flinches from around the room at the ‘Sith’ part, but otherwise they remained attentive.

“Know of her, I do. Powerful woman she is. Yes, powerful indeed.” Yoda said, brows furrowing in deep thought and head nodding absently.

Obi-wan took a breath. This was the hard part. Up to this point, everything he had told them had been the truth, each word carefully chosen so as not to contradict the facts. But what he could tell them was limited. Should he tell them that Talzin helped him because she had seen the destruction of her people in his mind, because he’s a time traveler, the council would either throw him out on his arse, send him down to medical for a psychological examination, or actually believe him and have their entire world come down around them.

So, lying it was. He sent a silent prayer to the force begging it to hide his lie. It was for the greater good, and he needed them to buy it if they were going to take down Sidious.

“After I told Talzin of the mistreatment of her daughter, Ventress, by the Sith, she agreed to help me.” He said, then paused. He was waiting for the suspicion, the outrage, the cries of liar. They did not come.

He exhaled. The force had listened. For what was probably the first time in his life, the force had listened.

Pulling the small chip out of his pocket, he continued, “I believe you will find this – informative. And shocking, I give you fair warning.”

“Just get on with it Kenobi.” Master Mundi interrupted again, and Obi-wan gave him an annoyed look. Honestly, the man complained about Anakin being rash and reckless then turned around and acted like this. Hypocrisy at its finest. Though, in this case Obi-wan was all too happy to oblige. The sooner this was over, the better.

Clicking to life, the chip vibrated slightly as it opened up the holorecording stored on it. Before them, Talzin formed out of blue lines and staticky dots. Even in a recording, her presence was demanding, though certainly less terrifying than the real deal. Once more, the council room fell silent as each jedi turned to look at the woman’s grim expression and hardened eyes.

“Jedi council,” She spat with derision, making quite the first impression, “I have been… persuaded by one of your own to aid you in this failing endeavor against the Sith.”

You had to give it to the woman, her ability to immediately insult the entire council whilst still keeping their utmost attention was rather impressive. “The Sith by the name Darth Sidious stole one of my children, and his apprentice wronged another. So, it is only right that I return the favor.” She grinned then, a little too wide for it to be real. “I know who he is, even with all his obfuscating and trickery. Sidious cannot hide from me, and neither can Chancellor Palpatine. They are one and the same after all.”

Abruptly, the recording shut off and left the room in complete silence as they took this in. Everything was out in the open now, laid bare by one simple recording.

Then, quite naturally, the room exploded.

“This is preposterous!”

“The witch is clearly lying.”

“The chancellor?”

“We need more evidence than this to move against him.”

“Move against him? Have you lost your mind?!”

“Obviously the witch is trying to create infighting, I bet she would like nothing more than for the republic to tear itself apart.”

“The Jedi would have felt his darkness if this were true.”

Through all of the chaos and shouting, Obi-wan stood motionless in the center of the room. Of course, they wouldn’t believe a nightsister, of course they would call her a liar. What had he been expecting? How could he have thought this would work? Stupid, stupid Kenobi.

Around him, the arguments continued. He could not hear them, it felt almost as though he was floating in some nameless ocean, all noise distorted and fractured. He had failed. He had failed. Luke, Leia, Anakin, Cody, he had failed them all. Again. How could he have failed them again.

No – no he couldn’t have – couldn’t have –

“She is telling the truth.”

The voice brought him back to himself, his internal panic fading pack into the background as he focused on the words. The truth, yes. She was telling the truth.

He looked up, and standing in front of him, staring defiantly at the council as he blocked Obi-wan from their view, was none other than Marshal Commander Cody.

In that moment he almost looked ethereal, chin tilted upwards and gaze boring into master Yoda’s. There was not even the faintest tremble in his force presence, it was calm and unmoving as the depths of on ocean on a summer’s day. And his words, they echoed through the force in a way that was not natural. The truth of them seemed to leap out as though the force itself was trying to convince the council. He looked beautiful, and Obi-wan had to exercise all of his restraint to refrain from grabbing the man’s hand and pulling him close.

The council stared at the clone, then blinked, then stared some more.

There were a few seconds in which Obi-wan feared they would do something drastic. What if they sent Cody back to Kamino for insubordination – no, he would not let them. They would not hurt him, they could not –

“The truth it is, then. A Sith, the chancellor is. Blind, the jedi have been.” Yoda said solemnly, and the room was no longer bursting with anxious or disbelieving energy but instead shuttered with the empty certainty of failure and a heavy somberness.

“What must we do?” Adi Gallia asked, and she sounded so hopeless, so lost that Obi-wan couldn’t help but smile comfortingly at her. This was what he had been waiting for after all, this very opportunity. All he needed was a chance, and now he had been given it. The council was ready to do something, not sit and discuss, but actually do. This was exactly what he needed, what the world needed – action. Palpatine was going down, and Obi-wan would make sure the future he had witnessed went down with him.

“I may have an idea.”

Merrin was Bored. After they had left Obi-wan, the three Dathomirian visitors had been led through the weaving corridors of the jedi temple and into a room that seemed like it was used to teach children. Though abandoned, the tables were covered in paint and glue as well as shining pieces of glitter that caught the light. Soft pillowed chairs were arranged in one corner and upon entering the room, Merrin had promptly thrown herself down on one, happy to simply sit and chat to the Zabraks.

She was not quite as happy anymore. In fact, she was quite definitely, very much, utterly and completely bored. Obi-wan had been away for ages, and although she liked hanging out with Feral and Savage, she wasn’t enjoying the older Jedi who was standing grumpily in the corner, watching over them.

It wasn’t the same one who had led them to the room, he had left in quite a hurry. This one was younger, complaining to the jedi who had brought him down about being stuck babysitting and explaining that he was just as likely to kill them as protect him. The other jedi had only shrugged, mentioned something about doing what he did with something called a ‘Tano’ then left the man alone with them.

He had so far been alternating between making grumpy faces, huffing, and pacing around the room. Merrin almost pitied him, if she was bored he probably was too.

“Hey Mr. Jedi? What’s your name?” She asked on a whim, trying to find anything that would fill the dull silence of the room. Savage was too wound-up to talk, and Feral was following his brothers lead of looking like a terrified puppy.

“What’s it to you?” The man said rudely, huffing at her in a very un-jedi-like way. Well, the weird council man did say he was a knight, not a master. She supposed not all jedi could be as cool as Obi-wan, who was awesome. She would just have to deal with the grumpy boy for now then.

“I’m bored, and I want to know.” She whined, widening her eyes and pouting her lips in what Dres and Obi-wan would call her ‘puppy dog face’ and what she would call her ‘give me what I want’ face. There were very few things people wouldn’t do for an upset kid, and this particular expression seemed to work especially well.

As promised, the mans face crumbled slightly and he seemed to mumble a quiet ‘oh alright then’ before answering with a curt “Anakin Skywalker.”

She blinked. He was Anakin Skywalker? This grumpy twenty-something or other with a lack of social skills and a clear impatience for children was the person Obi-wan talked about with such fondness? No. No way. That wasn’t possible.

“You’re Anakin Skywalker?” Feral blurted out, seeming to have jerked out of his kicked puppy haze. Merrin wasn’t sure if that was a good thing or a bad thing but at least he was talking again instead of opening his mouth, staring at Savage’s closed one, and then shutting his own again.

“uh, yeah?” The man said in a ‘duh,’ kind of way and Merrin grew even more disappointed and disbelieving at the fact that this was ‘the hero with no fear’ who made Obi-wan smile if so much as his name was mentioned.

She had to be sure, and that meant she had to just suck it up and ask.

“You mean you are Obi-wans pada-thingy, Anakin Skywalker.” She said carefully, making extra-sure the man knew exactly what she was asking. Although she couldn’t quite remember what came after ‘pada’ she was certain the message got across.

Instead of a yes or no answer like Merrin was expecting, Anakin stumbled backwards in surprise, face rippling from surprise to jealousy to delight in quick succession.

“You know Obi-wan?” he asked eagerly, and Merrin felt the distinct urge to face palm. Did nobody tell him how they had gotten to the temple? Did he even know who they were or where they had come from? Honestly, Jedi were weird.

“Uhh of course, we came here with him on his ship.” Feral said, happy to be able to answer a question asked by a Jedi. If Merrin had any money, she would bet it all on Feral becoming a padawan within the next few months.

“Wait, Obi-wans back?” Anakin asked, tone a mixture of boundless joy and hurt. Right, he must be thinking Obi-wan hadn’t bothered to come and speak to him before running off again. She would have to correct that assumption quickly.

“Yeah, but he had only just got off the ship before he was dragged away to talk to those stupid council people. I don’t think I like them very much.” She said, wrinkling her nose as she remembered the man with the huge forehead that had reminded her of the wonky mountain back on Dathomir and the little green man who had spoken in weird fragments.

Whatever she had said seemed to have been humorous because Anakin quickly tried to cover his bright laugh with a very obviously fake cough. “Yeah, me neither kid.” He said wryly after he had gotten control of himself, and Merrin smiled a little. That was more like the Anakin she had heard about from Obi-wan, the one who was as kind as he was mischievous.

“So how did you end up meeting my master then?” He asked, and Feral practically bounced with excitement at the chance to tell this story.

“He came to our village! He was so cool. I though his clone commander was a robot at first! He wasn’t though, but he was a clone which is still pretty cool too I guess and – “

Feral continued rambling on as Merrin slammed her forehead against the wall next to her. She hoped Obi-wan would finish up with those councilor people fast. The next few hours were going to be very, very, long.

Chapter Text

"Love comes in all shapes and sizes." - Season 3. Episode 9

After three hours spent in the council chambers planning out their objectives and discussing this and that with back-and-forth inputs from some very grumpy jedi, Obi-wan was almost relieved when four very familiar force presences appeared in his senses. Not a second later, whispered mutterings could be heard outside, and then quite suddenly, Merrin stumbled through the doors with a sheepish smile. Of course, Anakin came tumbling after her and seemed to be torn between scolding her, apologizing to the council, and refraining from throwing himself into Obi-wans arms.

Obi-wan made the decision for him, striding over to him, smiling widely, and wrapping his arms around his padawan in a bear hug in front of the entire council. Through the force, he sent a little nudge, I missed you, and Anakin buried his head into his shoulder.

Then, naturally, came Savage and Feral. The former was wound like a tight spring, anxiously glancing around the assembled councilors, the latter too busy gawking at the large windows that opened onto endless skies that were cleaved into sections by rising buildings to remember he had just stumbled into a very important, very private meeting.

“What is the meaning of this?!” Master Ki-Adi-Mundi exclaimed and was rewarded with Merrin eyeing him judgmentally. It was quite the amusing sight, little Merrin with her hands on her hips glaring at a renowned jedi master and member of the council.

“We’re kidnapping Obi-wan and Cody.” She said quite bluntly, and it was only then that Obi-wan realized Anakin had not let go of his arm after the embrace.

Ah.

Next to him, Feral was clinging quite determinedly to the leg of an unphased Cody who may as well have been watching grass grow from the expression on his face. Typical, his commander always did have a wonderful sabback face.

They had likely gotten bored waiting for the two to come back from the council and staged a mutiny. Not that it seemed Anakin had needed much convincing, it was probably Savage who was hardest to sway. Obi-wan knew his padawan well, and it was fifty-fifty that he had been the one to suggest such a scheme in the first place. Anakin always was one for recklessness.

“Well, esteemed council, it seems my hands are tied. I must go with my kidnappers until someone ransoms me back. Alas! Whatever shall I do.” He said in entire seriousness to the blank-faced council who only seemed to grow more and more frustrated with his antics.

Merrin on the other hand was trying desperately to stifle her giggle and Anakin practically lit up in glee at this response.

“Kenobi, you can’t just worm your way out of such an important discussion -”

“Can’t you see I have been kidnapped master Tiin? What choice to I have?” He called back as he was pulled quite forcibly from the room by a whooping Merrin, followed closely by Cody who was dragging Feral as much as Feral was dragging him.

“Kenobi!” the shout came again, and then the door slammed closed behind them.

For a minute, they all just stood there silently. Then they all locked eyes and seemed to come to a singular agreement at the same time.

Immediately, the six of them broke into a run down the halls, giggling madly and cheering in delight as they grasped on to each other’s shoulders and arms and clothes, ducking around corners as they fled the council room. Cody’s hand was wrapped around Obi-wans as he and Anakin led the children through the twisting corridors of the temple, skidding to halts and taking suspicious short cuts to avoid the other knights crawling around the grounds.

 Although Obi-wan was certain there were no stuffy jedi masters chasing them through the halls like some hated kindergarten teacher, the thrill in the force as they careened down the hall and into the shared rooms of Anakin, Obi-wan, and Ahsoka was undeniable.

Once inside, they closed the door quickly and locked it, collapsing to the ground in bouts of breathless laugher.

“I told you it would work!” Merrin boasted proudly, hardly seeming to be tired at all.

“I can’t believe – you said that – to – to the council!” Anakin managed between his heaving gasps, clutching at his chest and slinging an arm around Obi-wans neck.

In truth, Obi-wan couldn’t quite believe he had said that to the council either. He was not looking forward to the consequences of that little escapade, but he supposed he would deal with it as he always did – with a placating smile and an excuse relating to the will of the force. Qui-Gon had taught him that much in the end.

“You’re not mad then?” Savage asked quietly, and Obi-wan paused. Poor Savage, who had probably tried so hard to keep the kids in line, Anakin included. He was probably prepared to take all of the blame, ready to endure whatever punishment was thought up for him. It was heart-breaking to say the least.

Obi-wan placed a hand on the Zabraks shoulder, and Cody poked the kids arm fondly. “No, my dear, I am not mad at you.” He said, watching as Savage’s shoulders slackened in relief. “How could I be when you came all this way to rescue me?”

Savage blushed, ducking his head and preening under the praise. It was adorable, and once again Obi-wan wondered what had happened to turn this wonderfully polite and terrified child into the brutal monster he had once known.

“Um – haha, what the hell?” A very familiar voice said, and all of them turned as one to face Ahsoka who was standing in the kitchen, holding a pot of tea and a mug that had ‘best padawan’ printed across it, and looking very confused and just a little bit afraid.

Obi-wan opened his mouth, then closed it again. Then opened it again.

“I can explain.” He said, wincing slightly as Ahsoka raised a brow, looking every inch of the woman Obi-wan had known in the future. She eyed him skeptically, glancing between the six of them as Merrin stared curiously at her and Savage tried to hide behind Cody.

“Really?” She asked, and yeah that was fair enough. Explaining might be a little harder than expected.

But then her skepticism faded away and she shot forwards, launching herself into Obi-wans arms whilst laughing happily. "I missed you, Master." She said, and Obi-wan patted her back lovingly, trying to ignore how his heart was melting in his chest. 

"And I you Ahsoka. I would have come earlier, but the council insisted on seeing me." He said apologetically, and she laughed at the way he grumbled 'the council'. 

"However did you manage to escape master?" She joked, and seemed utterly shocked when it was Merrin who replied.

“We kidnapped him!” The nightsister menace said far too happily, and Ahsoka broke out into a delighted grin.

“Well, aren’t you adorable. You kidnapped him all by yourself, did you? Well done!” She complimented, and not for the first time Obi-wan was struck with the horrible feeling that introducing them to each other was a terrible, terrible mistake. Ahsoka didn’t even know who Merrin was yet, and she was already complementing her on her kidnapping abilities.

“Well, not all by myself. I had some help.” Merrin allowed, and pointed behind her to Feral, Savage, and Anakin who waved awkwardly at his padawan and her accusing glare.

“You staged a kidnapping without me master?! I can’t believe you would leave me out like that!” She protested, and Anakin squawked, holding a hand to his chest in indignation.

“I didn’t stage anything snips! I was tricked into it by these menaces!” He said, gesturing wildly to the three grinning kids that had now moved onto looking curiously around the rooms, trying to sneakily shift further in to get a better look.

“That’s worse.” Ahsoka deadpanned, and Anakin sighed in defeat, accepting that he had been beaten by three children in the art of deception and kidnapping. Well, sort of.

“Wait, who even are you kids anyways?” Ahsoka asked, seeming to realize for the first time that she had never seen any of them before in her life. Not that he blamed her, Obi-wan felt as though he had known them his whole life when he had technically only met them a few weeks ago (or years if you counted his interactions with Savage in the past).

“I’m Merrin! And these are my friends Savage and Feral. We’re from Dathomir.” Merrin said happily, throwing herself towards Obi-wans grandpadawan with an enthusiasm he envied. Oh, to be young and careless and capable of having that much energy.

“We’re friends?” Feral asked shyly, and when Merrin nodded seriously he leapt forward as well, wrapping his arms around the nightsister. It was far too adorable and Ahsoka seemed to think so too with the way she melted in their presence.

“I’m padawan Ahsoka Tano, it’s nice to meet you.” She said, bowing politely.

“You’re Ahsoka?!”

“You have the two lightsabers!”

“Is it true you know Jar’kai?”

The questions were immediate as the children realized exactly who it was, they were talking to. Obi-wan had spoke of his padawan and grandpadawan often after all, and it was only natural the children wanted to know more. He was almost scared by how enthusiastic Merrin seemed to have another girl nearby, another girl who also happened to be extremely skilled in combat. He foresaw some ‘training session’ happening in the future that would include the two trying to teach each other.

Anakin mumbled something under his breath, something about them being disappointed with him but not with Ahsoka? Obi-wan wasn’t quite sure. Whatever it was, he seemed to enter a bit of a sulk, slumping his shoulders and moping around like an angsty teen. It seemed the drama never ended with the Skywalkers.

Ahsoka seemed a little overwhelmed with all of the attention and, taking pity on her, Obi-wan gathered the attention of the three Dathomirians, offering them a tour of the rooms which they all readily agreed to, abandoning their questions and allowing Ahsoka some time to breath. He showed them around the rooms, knowing that it was highly likely that they would be staying in them until the council figured out what to do with them.

If he was honest, Obi-wan was kind of seriously considering asking Feral to be his padawan. The kid was strong with the force, eager to learn, and Obi-wan already had a history of teaching those too old to be taught. After a long conversation with Anakin about how he wasn’t being replaced and Obi-wan still loved him like a brother (and a son), the council might just let him do it.

But then there was Savage.

Obi-wan couldn’t take on two padawans, especially not two who were from Dathomir and already considered too old to be trained. The council were not that flexible, even when it came to time travellers who knew how to manipulate them.

There was another option, one that he had been pondering for quite some time now. After all, Plo Koon had always wanted a padawan and something told him Savage would be the perfect fit. The Zabrak had only ever known the harshness of Dathomir, and Obi-wan was certain he would flourish under Plo’s gentle touch.

That could wait though, a meeting would have to be scheduled and a long talk carried out. For now, Obi-wan would settle for watching Ahsoka rave about Jar’kai to Merrin and Anakin try to dodge Feral’s questions whilst brewing Hoth chocolate for Savage.

Cody not so subtly entwined their hands again, and Obi-wan settled his head onto his shoulder.

“They are going to be quite the handful.” His commander said, equal parts amused and fond. It was evident that he was just as attached to the kids as Obi-wan was.

“I have no doubt. I am sure we can handle it though, right dear?”

“Of course, Cy’are.”

Family was a wonderful thing, wasn’t it? From watching them scald their tongues on hot drinks and being forcibly kidnapped by them, there wasn’t a dull moment.

Speaking of kidnapping and family, there was something else that Obi-wan needed to get a move on with. Boba Fett wasn’t going to break himself out of prison, and he had already waited long enough for his freedom.

With the noise of his kids ringing in the background and the warmth of his commander pressed against his side, Obi-wan polished off his plan and got everything ready for the jailbreak he was about to stage.

(Little did Obi-wan know, Boba was going to break himself out of prison, with a little help of course. Maybe a little too much.)

“I hate to leave you Cody, I hate to leave them, but there is something I must do.”

“Go, I trust you. I’ll take care of the kids while you’re gone.”

“I know you will my dear, It’s you.”

If you had asked Slick a week ago what he was planning to do on a quiet Saturday morning in coruscant prison, he might have said a lot of things. Maybe he would stew in his anger or try to ignore the horrid flavor of his gloopy, beige food that was supposed to be porridge. Hell, he might have even decided to talk to some of his fellow inmates, though that was a bit of a stretch. He didn’t like any of them anyways.

What he most certainly would not have said, is sneaking around the prison with a piece of a broken metal tray in his hands to use as a weapon and a ten-year old kid at his back, dodging guard patrols that were rushing past to deal with the riot that Slick had started to cover their escape.

As it happened, that was exactly what he was doing. Because of course he was, what else would he be doing? Something normal was entirely out of the question, that had never been Slick’s luck and he knew it.

The plan was simple enough: distract the guards with a riot, get to the morgue, pose as dead bodies and win a ticket out of the prison. Then all they would have to do was sneak away from the morticians and find a ship to get off this damn planet. Where they would go, Slick had no idea. He hadn’t quite managed to plan that far ahead yet, but he was certain he could improvise if he really needed to.

In any case, he would burn that bridge when he got to it. For now, they actually had to reach the end of the corridor in one piece.

“Okay Boba, we’re almost there. Once we get past these doors, we’ll head to the morgue. Coruscant prison gets rid of their dead and if we can get into the facilities –“ Slick cut off, motioning Boba behind him.

Someone was coming, quiet footsteps sounding off the tiled floor betraying their presence. Thinking quickly, Slick pulled Boba into a small alcove created by the geometrical pillars embedded in the wall, shielding them from view. If the person happened to come down the corridor they were in, they would hopefully miss the two entirely.

Once more, Slick recalled that his luck had never been so good and tightened his hold on the metal in his hands, just in case. Fighting was not an option he was particularly keen on, not when his lip was already split and his ribs aching from beginning the prison riot with a fight of his own. He hoped it would not come to that.

The footsteps continued, coming ever closer. Please walk past, Slick thought, go to the riots, we aren’t here, there is no one here.

Not even a few feet from their hiding place, the footsteps stopped. The two escapees held their breath, willing the person to leave, to go back the way they came. Rather unfortunately, the stranger seemed to be in no rush to do that. Whoever had been coming towards them in a hurried pace now stood silently, not moving in inch. Only seconds later, Slick understood why.

There was another pair of footsteps, moving slower than the first as they came up to the corner of the intersecting hallways. Oh, that was most definitely not good. One person would be hard enough to deal with, but two? Defeat was practically spelled out for them.

The footsteps came round the corner and into the corridor. Slick closed his eyes, waiting for the worst to happen, waiting for –

“Kenobi?” A voice said, a familiar voice that had Boba stiffening up and Slick rushing to grasp the kids’ collar before he rushed out and did anything stupid. Despite knowing that the voice meant trouble for them both, no matter how hard he tried he couldn’t quite remember who the it belonged to. It was someone important he was sure, but he couldn’t place it and –

Wait a minute. Kenobi?

“Mace?” another voice said, and that was one that Slick could place. The name should have been a give-away, should have at least reminded him or sparked some kind of recognition, warned him of what he was about to walk into. Because that was Obi-fucking-wan Kenobi. Of course, who else would it be except the man Slick had personally betrayed? Force, could this day get any worse?

“What are you doing here?!” the first voice said, and now it was quite obvious who was behind it. How he hadn’t realized it belonged to none other than Mace Windu, Slick didn’t know.

“I could ask you the same thing.”

“That is none of your business.” The two argued back and forth, and Slick tried to edge quietly further into the alcove, hiding him and Boba from the two Jedi who would be just as likely to kill them as return them to the prison if they discovered their presence.

“Wait a minute, you’re not here for – I’m here to break Boba out.” Kenobi said as though he wasn’t admitting to committing treason, or at least attempting to, and it took a while for that sentence to process. He was here to break Boba out, and what, just happened to attempt such a prison break on the exact same day Slick did?

“What? No. I’m here to break Boba out!” Came General Windu’s outraged response, and okay what the fuck. Mace Windu, member of the council, slayer of Jango Fett, the man who had almost been killed by Boba, the jedi who had watched his clone commander murdered by Boba, was here to break him out? No. No way. That wasn’t possible. How was that possible?

“Yep, thought so.”

“This is my responsibility Kenobi!” Windu said, and Slick could almost taste the desperation. That explained it then – the jedi felt guilty. He probably thought he was responsible for what happened to Boba and wanted to fix it. Well, that was the jedi for you.

“I’m sure it is, though I do love intruding on people’s responsibilities.” Kenobi said smugly, and Slick nearly laughed, though luckily managed to refrain, keeping his company a secret. He was almost certain Kenobi took far too much joy in interrupting and taking over people’s missions. No matter how hard he tried to hide it, the man had mischief in his heart.

“Alright, whatever. You can help if you want, but we actually have to find him first. Of course, a prison riot would break out on the same day, nothing can ever be simple, can it?” Windu said long-sufferingly, and Slick couldn’t help but agree. If things could be simple, the three of them would not be here on the same day trying to break the same person out of prison.

There was only one viable option that Slick could see, and Boba was not going to like it. The Jedi clearly wanted to get Boba out of here, for whatever reason, and they would stand a better chance if they worked together, as loathe as he was to admit it.

Steeling his nerves, Slick took a step out of the alcove.

“Gentlemen - “

Two lightsabers burst into existence as the jedi turned to face him, one a vibrant purple and the other a piercing blue that he had seen many times before in the expert hands of Kenobi. Slick raised his hands in surrender, trying not to get decapitated before saying more than a grand total of two words. That would have to be some kind of record, he thought amusedly as General Kenobi’s face twisted into recognition.

“Slick? What on Earth are you doing here?” He asked, and Slick rolled his eyes.

“You sent me here, remember? But as to why I’m here in this corridor, well.” He reached into the little alcove and dragged Boba out by his arm. The kid’s expression was no less than mutinous, and he looked two steps away from launching himself at the jedi in a bout of absolute fury.

In any case, Slick kept a firm grip on him. It would be rather unfortunate if the person he was breaking out of prison died in the process.

“Boba!” The two exclaimed as one, then sent each other annoyed glances, seemingly offended that they had spoken in unison.

“Wait a minute,” Kenobi began, “You’re here to break him out too?”

“Unfortunately, yes.”

Then, bizarrely, Kenobi began to laugh. Not chuckle, no, full on laughs that had him doubled over with his hands on his knees. He stayed like that for what must have been a few minutes, in utter hysterics as Slick kept hold of Boba and Mace Windu looked skyward, seemingly asking the force for patience.

“Pull yourself together Kenobi.” The other Jedi said eventually, irritation mixing with amusement in his voice.

“We all – we all came to break him out – on the same day.” Kenobi said in utter disbelief and delight. If he sat and thought about it for a moment, Slick could see how hilarious that was as well. If he weren’t so stressed and ready for action, he may have even laughed alongside Kenobi, as strange as that was.

“Yes, yes, laugh it up but – “

At that moment, the security alarm went off and Slick knew with an absolute certainty that his and Boba’s absence had been noted. Panic rushed through him, and he eyed the two jedi a little wildly.

“Shit.” He said quite loquaciously, brain moving a million miles a minute as he tried to figure out what in the ever-loving hell he was going to do now. His plan was shot to bits, the guards knew he and Boba were attempting an escape, and now there were two jedi to deal with. Oh fuck, what was he going to do?

He didn’t have much time to ponder this however, as Kenobi took hold of his arm and began to pull both him and Boba down the corridor.

“This way!” he shouted to Mace, and then the four of them were running through the prison, no longer caring about secrecy or subtlety.

Red lights flared on and off and the incessant buzzing of the alarms rang in Slicks ears as he followed the two jedi, dragging Boba behind him in a way that was almost desperate, because this couldn’t have been for nothing. He would not allow all of this to have been for nothing.

Behind him, he could hear shouts and footsteps that hurried along tiled floors. Whether they were chasing them or simply trying to find them, Slick didn’t know. He couldn’t spare the mental capacity to think too deeply about it, not as he ducked around corners and pushed his legs as fast as he physically could.

After what seemed like hours of sprinting through an endless maze of corridors that all looked exactly the same, the four came across a door, a rather giant door with an equally giant sized lock that Kenobi stared at for a minute. Then he lifted his hand to it and closed his eyes, making the expression he always made when he was asking the force for help.

Seconds passed, and the footsteps behind them were getting closer and closer. Damn it, Slick thought, Come on Kenobi. The mantra repeated over, and over, and over in his mind, please get it open. Please let us escape.

The sound of gears grinding filled his ears, and then miraculously the door began to creak open, revealing a landing platform behind the groaning squares of metal. A landing platform that had a ship on it, a ship the Slick and Boba could steal and leave the planet on.

Holy hell. It was going to work; the escape was going to work.

Slick slid through the gap in the door after Kenobi, then dashed straight out towards the platform. They were so close now, so, so close –

“Freeze!” Someone shouted, and Slick turned in horror to see a crowd of guards amassing at the metal door that was still slowly grinding open, guns held tightly as they stopped in front of the jedi.

Slick was frozen. His legs wouldn’t move, not even as Boba tried to wriggle free from his grasp. The knowledge that the jedi had risked their lives for Boba, and for him to an extent, it was the thing he had been missing. It was what didn’t make sense.

Suddenly, there in the middle of a prison break, the realization that the Jedi were prisoners as much as the clones were slammed into him with a vengeance.

“Go, we’ll distract them.” Kenobi shouted, breaking him from his trance. Slick wanted to, he wanted to run to the ship and leave and not spare a thought to the jedi who were going to cover his escape. But they were going to take the blame, and Slick had to do something, couldn’t just let that happen.

“What? But –“

“Go, take the ship and get Boba out of here.” Mace said, coming to stand next to Kenobi and effectively blocking the guards view of him and Boba

The problem from earlier surfaced in Slicks mind, the one he had, perhaps naively, thought could wait until later. Get out of here, sure. Get out of here and go where?

“We have nowhere to go we – “

“Saleucami.” Kenobi said. “Go to Saleucami and find Cut Lawquane, tell him Rex sent you. He will help.”

Slick nodded his gratitude, and to his surprise, Boba looked directly at Mace and nodded his too.

“Thank you.” The kid said, and Slick felt an unfamiliar emotion bloom in his chest, something he had never felt before. Later, he would recognize it as pride.

Mace smiled gently, then set his face in a grim line.

“Go!” He yelled, and then they were running, Slick and Boba over the flats of the landing pad.

They threw themselves into the ship, hurtling up the open ramp and straight into the cockpit. It was in a fit of panic and exhilaration that Slicks hands stumbled over the controls, starting the engine and pulling up into the sky, leaving the world, and the two jedi beneath them.

Once they were airborne, Boba gave a whoop of delight, rushing to look down at coruscant from the windows. Slick almost smiled, exiting Coruscant’s atmosphere without a care to the proper procedures and ignoring all seven of the incoming transmission in the process. He knew well enough that once they had reached lightspeed, the republic wouldn’t care enough to go looking

So Slick set their course for Saleucami and made the jump as soon as he safely could, sending their ship racing into hyperspace, streaks of blue flying past their windows. In that moment of glee, of relief and joy, he realized for the first time that he was genuinely, truly free. Free from the republic, free from prison, free from orders and Jedi. He could go anywhere, be anyone, do anything he wanted to do.

The thought was surprising, but even more surprising was the fact that what he wanted to do was get Boba safely to Saleucami.

Decision made, he supposed. That was what he would do. He would get the kid safe and sound to this Cut Lawquane, and he would give them both the freedom they had been searching for. He figured, in the end, it was the least they deserved.

Obi-wan tucked his hands into his robe and smiled guilelessly at the prison guards who rushed to surround him and Mace, brandishing their guns in a display that would have been terrifying if the guards had not looked quite so afraid at the prospect of shooting a Jedi. He sent a mental message to his friend. Act natural and let me handle the talking, he said through their old bond, formed through years of friendship. He wasn’t entirely sure that was even possible for someone like Mace Windu to act ‘natural’ but nevertheless, Obi-wan was certain he would do his best.

“Good morning gentlemen! Me and my companion here were sent by the Jedi to inspect this prison, though we weren’t exactly expecting a welcome party.” He called to the men, and ignored the angry seriously? That Mace sent him. Yes, seriously. Playing innocent was how they were going to get out of this situation, and Obi-wan was almost certain he could convince the men that this was in fact the truth; he wasn’t called the negotiator for nothing after all.

“Why did you let the prisoner escape?!” The guard at the front demanded, shoving his gun into his chest, and Obi-wan gave him his best ‘who, me?’ face.

“Prisoners? Escape? My friend, I’m afraid I don’t quite know what you’re talking about.” He said, playing up his confusion as Mace stood sullenly by his side, having accepted the reality of this ploy and obviously deciding to just go with it.

The man gritted his teeth in frustration, clutching his weapon in a white-knuckled grip. Obi-wan just kept up his innocent smile, widening his eyes in mock ignorance.

“With all due respect, jedi, we just saw them leave. On the ship, that you defended.” The man said in a strained voice, trying in vain to keep a hold of his obvious frustration and lack of patience. That was his problem, you see. Obi-wan had patience, and lots of it. He knew how to manipulate it to his advantage, and impatient people were all too easy to predict.

“I am afraid you are quite mistaken. That ship belongs to a fellow Jedi who dropped me and my friend off here, we didn’t just appear you know!” He exclaimed jokingly, gesturing to the landing pad that was empty of any other ships.

The mans face twisted from frustration to utter disbelief, and Obi-wan almost felt sorry for him. The poor man was only trying to do his job, and here he was making bizarre claims and denying what was there for all to clearly see.

“We saw the prisoners with you. They were clones, we saw them.” He said, almost desperately, glancing around at the other guards for confirmation. Nobody moved, just glanced unsurely between themselves and then back to the Jedi.

“My dear friend, the thing about clones is that they all look the same. Our Jedi friend is a General as you well know, and two of his clones accompanied us, for protection. You understand how it is these days, you can never be too careful.” Obi-wan said in a commiserating tone, knowing that the guard would likely have been under stress from the amount of prisoner’s war brough in. That was the final nail in the coffin. The mans patience gave out, worn thin by this fruitless conversation. He sighed, and visibly let the issue go.

“If you see them – “

“We’ll let you know immediately.” Obi-wan assured with a gentle smile, and that finally seemed to get them past the issue of the escapees. By his side, Mace was radiating disbelief, and Obi-wan gave him a smug nudge in the force. Told you so.

“If you’re here to inspect the prison, you chose one hell of a time.” The guard said in a tired, ironic voice, and once again Obi-wan felt a burst of sympathy for him.

“Not to worry my friend, it is nothing of great importance and I am certain that none of the events that have occurred today are the fault of you or your men.”

The guard nodded tiredly, then gestured them forward. “Come on then, I’ll show you around.”

As they followed him back into the building they had just escaped from, Obi-wan winked cheekily at Mace. He was rewarded by a sharp kick to the back of his legs.

Entirely worth it for the satisfaction he got from knowing Mace was entirely too impressed by his skillful deception. Now all they had to do was pretend to inspect the prison, call a in a ride from a friend, and be on their way, scot-free. And that is exactly what they did.

Chapter Text

" For everything you gain, you lose something else." - Season 2, Episode 9

It was out of sheer boredom that Ahsoka sought out the baby nightsister. Obi-wan was off on some self-prescribed mission, Anakin was busy trying to fend off the endless questions of the puppy dog called Feral and his unfailingly polite brother, and Cody was – well. Ahsoka wasn’t actually entirely sure what Cody was doing, but he was routinely undoing parts of his armor, checking them over, scratching something into them, and then repeating the process. Every now and again he would look up to make sure everyone was still alive, and then go right back to whatever work he was doing.

Which left Ahsoka alone, stuck on her ‘time off’ as the council called it, a reward for her valiant efforts on the front. That was a load of Banthapoodoo in her opinion, being away from the front was torture. There was nothing to do except train, and her master wasn’t even around to train her!

So, after a morning of scrolling endlessly through holochannels and flicking on and off of sappy holodramas, Ahsoka had given up.

She had gone to find Merrin, the cute little girl who had asked her in the sweetest little voice if she had ever used Jar’kai to decapitate someone.

The fact that she had in fact done that did not make the question any less off putting.

In all fairness, the girl had probably grown up around that kind of violence, and Ahsoka could sympathize. As much as she loved sparring and fighting, war was all she had ever known, a soldier all she had ever been taught to be. It was something that would stay with her forever, she knew.

Surprisingly, when she had found Merrin the girl had been just as bored as she was, dangling from the couch and visibly restraining herself from doing something stupid like pranking the entire council by putting glitter in their freshers. Not that Ahsoka would have been against that, she had done something similar before. On multiple occasions.

She couldn’t imagine Obi-wan being too pleased if he came back to that though, so she counted herself lucky she had reached Merrin in time to prevent such a disaster.

“You as bored as I am?” She asked casually, walking over to the girl who was settled on the couch, entirely upside down with her feet pointing up to the ceiling and her head lolling off the side of the cushions, and throwing herself down beside her.

“Yup.” Merrin said, popping the ‘p’ at the end as she swung her feet backwards and forwards over the top of the sofa, abruptly reminding Ahsoka that this was in fact a child, and a young one at that who was missing her two front teeth. The cuteness of her gapped smile was offset slightly by the pointy fangs that were beginning to poke through the gums.

“What did you do on Dathomir for fun?” Ahsoka asked, crossing her arms over her chest and smiling across at the girl who was now bending her neck in an awkward way to look at Ahsoka as she talked, “I can’t imagine there’s a lot of variety in the activities there.”

Merrin wrinkled her nose and scrunched up her mouth. “There is so! We - we train a lot.” She said, almost defiantly and Ahsoka couldn’t help but to laugh. So defensive over her planet, it was cute! She just wanted to pinch the girls’ little round cheeks, but that would likely result in her losing one of her fingers to those weirdly pointed teeth, maybe even a hand if she was unlucky.

So, reluctantly, she held back the instinct.

“My master’s busy fending off your Zabrak friends, but we can train if you want?” Ahsoka offered, and immediately Merrin lit up like a star in the force, absolute delight peeking through the cloud of dull drudgery.

“Can we?! Oh, please can we, I haven’t been able to train properly in ages!” She rambled, scrambling off the couch to come face to face with Ahsoka. She began to bounce up and down in excitement, pigtails bobbing along with her. Then her eyes widened, and her mouth opened in a silent ‘o’ at whatever idea had just popped into her mind. “I can teach you to shadow walk!” The girl exclaimed with such excitement that Ahsoka didn’t have it in her to refuse.

There was one issue, however, and it was that she had no idea what ‘shadow walking’ was.

“Uhm sure?” She said, and Merrin cheered in victory, throwing her hands up and spinning round in a lopsided circle. “But you’ll have to tell me what exactly that is first.”

The girl just nodded offhandedly, grabbing Ahsoka’s hand and practically dragging her through the door and into Ahsoka’s private quarters. They were small but comfortable, a soft bed, a desk with holopads stacked on it, and a lovely carpet that Master Obi-wan had given her for one of her lifedays.

Wasting no time at all, Merrin threw herself down onto the floor, almost bring Ahsoka down in a heap with her. Luckily, she managed to find her footing and settled herself on the carpet quite gracefully if she said so herself. Which she did.

“Shadow walking,” Merrin began excitedly, talking quickly in a hushed voice as if she was scared the others would overhear, “is a way of teleporting.” Her eyes were sparkling with mischief, and she seemed as though she was inviting Ahsoka into some sort of heist or cult with how secretive she was acting.

Ahsoka understood, because yeah, it sounded pretty awesome.

If she really was able to teleport, that would be utterly amazing. Going from one place to another that quickly, it sounded entirely too useful. Being able to do that whenever, at will? Yes please. No more being late to classes, no more getting caught whilst pranking people!

(no more being too late to save them, no more not fast enough, no more I’m sorry’s)

If such a useful technique existed, who was Ahsoka to deny learning it? There was the possibility that it was a dark technique, but if it was Merrin wouldn’t have simply offered to teach it to her. Sith skill’s required pain, anger, strong emotions to fuel and drive them. Ahsoka, no matter how much she tried, couldn’t imagine Merrin drawing on such darkness to complete a technique, even one that was as useful as shadow walking sounded.

“How does it work?” She asked instead of voicing any of the thoughts in her head, “How do I learn?” At that, the nightsister’s grin faded slightly, becoming almost glum.

“Well, you have to start by meditating.” She said as though meditating was the scum of the earth and a torture to endure, a feeling that Ahsoka very much shared. There wasn’t exactly anything wrong with meditating, it was just sort of kind of very boring.

But if it allowed her to teleport, then hell, Ahsoka would give it a go.

She closed her eyes and let her emotions detach from her, releasing all of her boredom, her joy and annoyance in turn into the force and bringing herself to a state of calm. Then she opened her mind, allowing thoughts to simply pass through, not focusing too deeply on one or the other, simply letting the force guide her mind.

After a few moments of this, her trance was broken by the voice of a certain nightsister.

“You aren’t meditating properly!” Merrin exclaimed in a tone that was a mix of horror and frustration.

And that made no sense. Ahsoka was meditating, there wasn’t a right or wrong way to do it, there was a method that was taught to jedi and then that was personalized for each individual, so how in the name of the force could she be doing it wrong?

“I am.” She assured, looking oddly at the girl who only seemed to be getting more and more frustrated by this.

“No!” Merrin said. “You’re doing it all wrong, you aren’t doing it right!”

“Yes, I am! I’m releasing my feelings to the force, I’m calming my mind, I’m opening myself up to its messages, what more do you want me to do?!” Ahsoka said, because really what else did Merrin expect from her? Every jedi did the same actions anyway, and she had ticked off every step. Although, some did go about the method in different ways, molding steps to their preference. Maybe that was it, maybe she was just doing it in a way that Merrin wasn’t familiar with?

Once again, Merrin spoke, and utterly shocked Ahsoka to what she thought was her very soul “But that – that’s not how you meditate.” The girl exclaimed, and there wasn’t even a hint of a lie in her voice.

For a minute, Ahsoka was struck dumb. What could she possible say to that? That was how every jedi meditated, there was no way it could be wrong.

“I – wait what? What does that even mean! That’s how the jedi do it.” She ended up saying, and Merrin rolled her eyes in an ‘of course’ sort of motion. As tiny as the kid was, her attitude was anything but small.

Abruptly, Ahsoka realized those words weren’t her own, they were her masters. Great, she was turning into Anakin, looking after a younger, sassier version of herself. Was this how he felt all the time?

“Well today you aren’t being a jedi, you’re being a nightsister, which means you have to meditate like one.” Merrin said definitively, nodding to herself at this decision.

Not that this helped Ahsoka, she wasn’t exactly an expert in the techniques used in nightsister meditation.

“And how do I do that then?” She asked Merrin, and that was when the force did something complicated.

In the space of one second, the air of relaxation that had permeated the air around them suddenly twisted into a thick mist of confusion and deception. For a minute, Merrin looked less like a half-grown child and more like a nightsister assassin, wielding the force like an expert.

“Close your eyes. Silence your thoughts, keep them still.” The girl said, and Ahsoka knew the words were not hers. They were those of the nightisters, of their teachings and scriptures, passed down for what must have been generations. “Imagine all the rivers in the universe, the crashing currents and rushing waters, each and every stream falling silent and still. Imagine the ground beneath your feet, steady and smooth and immovable.”

Ahsoka thought about this and conjured up the images dictated.

First were the rivers, and the waters of the Room of a Thousand Fountains came to mind. She saw the rippling waves flowing over the sides of each slab of brick, clear as crystal in the light of the morning. Moving as they were, the fountains looked almost like ice, the stream unbroken and transparent, like the walls of the caves in Illum, chiseled smooth by the years. The sound rushed in her ears, loud and deafening.

Then, using all of her focus, she stopped them. Each fountain ran dry, each gurgling stream quieted in the emptiness that followed.

Around her, there was only silence. Where once there had been the crash of water against stone, there was nothing but quiet void.

Then she imagined the ground, not the metal she was sitting on but the earth of the planet itself. Its foundations were solid, smooth, immovable. Ahsoka imagined herself like that, unshaken by even the mightiest of storms or the most dangerous of wars. The feeling locked in her core, and the stability of her position suddenly felt much more real.

“Now stretch out, feel the energy of the temple around you.” Merrin continued, though the longer she spoke the more certain Ahsoka became that the voice was that of another, someone older, someone wiser. “Strip away the metal and see the souls and minds of those that fill its corridors, with more thoughts and dreams and worries than can fill the space of their existence.”

Cody, worried and fond and scared, terrified of a future to come. Anakin amused and indulging. Feral, curious and excited and ready for the opportunities that were racing towards him. Savage, cautious and self-conscious, but hopeful, so hopeful for what was to come. They all lit up her senses, and suddenly the magnitude of them became too much to bear.

They were too much, all of them. So many thoughts, so many dreams, and so much life. They all had unique and individual memories, and it was too much for Ahsoka to comprehend within the space of her mind.

But she didn’t need to. How she knew she didn’t need to, there was no way of knowing. It was just a gut feeling, a deep belief that such a thing was true.

“Focus on my voice.” Merrin said. “Now do you hear me, truly hear me?”

The voice was echoing around them, and it belonged to a little girl again. It was Merrin she was hearing, but the remnants of others laced each and every word. Yes, Ahsoka thought, she heard them, she heard them all. Each and every nightsister who had passed on this knowledge, who had discovered and learnt and taught, she could hear them all.

“Yes, yes I think so.” She said, allowing a smile of victory to cross her face. She had done it, truly achieved what was being asked of her.

“Good.” Merrin said, and now she was practically gleaming in the force, the energy seeming to swirl and storm around her in strange currents. “You have opened your mind up to the force, now you must open your sense.”

Her senses, okay. She had gotten past the first steps, and she could get past these. She would learn this technique, even if it took her years, even if she never truly mastered it, by the force she would at least learn it. Ahsoka took a deep breath and settled back into the force.

“Okay, I’m ready.”

Her eyes flickered and closed again, shutting out the world once more and focusing entirely on the energies that hung between all things in existence. Merrin’s voice, still echoing with the remnants of elders was the only thing that broke through her meditation, guiding and certain and sure.

“Look at the way the ground feels in the force, think about what it is made from, each and every molecule, like grains of sand coming together to fill the banks of a river or the bed of an ocean. Each molecule is unique, each particle separate. Can you feel it?” Merrin said, and Ahsoka did as was asked.

She extended her sense to the ground and combed carefully through the threads of the carpet beneath her. At first, it seemed one object and nothing more, deceptive in its simplicity. The closer she looked, however, the more wrong this proved to be.

Each thread of the carpet had a different feel, and in turn each strand that made up these threads. Further and further down she travelled, feeling out the fibres and the miniscule particles that formed the rug beneath her.

It was exactly as Merrin had said. Where once she had seen nothing more than a beach, know there were rocks and shells and driftwood, each individual and unique. There was a strange sort of beauty to it, the variety of the world around her, no matter how small or how big.

“I – I feel it!” Ahsoka exclaimed, once more overcome by the joy of her success. This was her first time trying this, her first time meditating in this way, and she was doing it. The feeling was alluring, the power seductive, and she had to take a moment to repeat the jedi teachings to herself.

This technique was not dark, but it was grey. She would need to be weary of her own emotions.

“Good,” Merrin said, “you did very good.”

Ahsoka smiled, still turning the sense of achievement over in her head, basking in the victory it had afforded her.

“How does your force presence feel?” Merrin asked, and the question was so strange that Ahsoka almost leapt right out of the calm bubble she had cultivated.

How did she feel in the force? Well that was easy wasn’t it? She felt the same as she always did in the force, bright and moving, like a flowing river that never stopped its wild currents. Though it twisted and turned at points, it’s path always remained sure and steady, unchangeable by outside forces. The river forges its own destiny, and Ahsoka knew she would do the same.

Except when she looked at it, this was not what she felt.

Instead of that rushing river, there was a quiet trickle of water that was barely even big enough to class as that.

“What?” she said, using the eloquence that master Kenobi had taught her.

Merrin laughed, high and amused like the ringing of bells at her confusion. “By focusing your mind, you have also focused your force presence to a microscopic point, small enough that it can alter the particles that make up this room.” She explained, then cheekily tacked on the end, “Can’t you feel your own force presence?”

Ahsoka sent her a mental poke with her now finely tuned force presence to show her opinion of that particular tone, and Merrin laughed again.

“I can so!” Ahsoka protested vocally, just to be sure that she had gotten her point across, opening her eyes and giving Merrin a light push.

The girl let herself move with the momentum, rolling onto the floor in a fit of giggles. Before she could stop herself, Ahsoka reached down and began to tickle her. Clearly, the idea was a good one as Merrin immediately tried to wriggle away whilst simultaneously claiming she wasn’t ticklish in the least and that Ahsoka was simply wasting her time.

The resounding screech that left the girls throat as Ahsoka tickled her stomach proved otherwise, hurting her montrals but making the effort absolutely worth it for her stifled laughs.

“Okay! Okay! I give up, you can feel your force presence!” The nightsister said, still squirming slightly.

“Damn right I can.” Ahsoka said, turning her head up as if this was simply a fact of life that everyone should be aware of.

There was something that was bothering her though, and she felt the desperate need to ask. As much as she had learned from their impromptu training session, she didn’t really understand how this new technique related to shadow walking.

“Merrin, how does sensing particles relate to shadow walking?” She asked, watching in amusement as the girl’s brow furrowed in thought.

“Well that’s the first step to shadow walking, understanding that the world is made up of particles, each one moveable, each one changeable.” She said as though it was the most obvious thing in the world. At Ahsoka’s near desperate prompting, she rolled her eyes and continued. “In order to shadow walk, we transfer the matter of ourselves, and in some cases others, from one shadow to another. The effect is partly an illusion, but the path we take is very real. We can step onto the plane of shadow using the force, then move through the shadowy currents to the desired destination and step back onto the material plane.”

Huh. That was news to Ahsoka, two different planes for shadow and reality? It didn’t make that much sense in her mind, but she could almost understand it, like she was on the verge of it all just clicking into place but wasn’t quite there yet. Interesting, but still not entirely relevant to the question.

“But what I don’t understand is how sensing molecules helps with that.” She said, running Merrin’s words over in her head as she tried to make sense of it.

“That’s the hard part – “

“Oh that’s the hard part.” Ahsoka interrupted, as if relearning how to meditate and parsing through every molecule within the carpet under her was a breeze, a walk in the park. Merrin glared at her for interrupting, but she was hiding a smile beneath it.

“You have to feel the shadow plane and manipulate your own particles onto it.” She explained, and then the idea clicked into Ahsoka’s mind, like the sudden push of a button.

Of course, it was like – like jumping. When you jumped, you left the earth in one place and came back down in another, cutting out that middle portion. In order to jump though, you had to have control over your legs, each muscle that contracted and lengthened to give you the power you needed to make this jumps, and it was no different with shadow walking.

Although, Ahsoka admitted, it was on a much larger, much stranger scale than simply jumping.

At that moment, Anakin poked his head through the door, seeming to have finally chased away the little ducklings who had been following him around all morning.

“Hey Obi-wan’s back if you want to – “ He cut off as he took in the sight of them both, Merrin still splayed out on the floor and Ahsoka sitting seriously beside her. “What are you doing?”

“I’m teaching her to shadow walk.” Merrin said bluntly, and Anakin’s eyebrows rose in a questioning manner. Ahsoka just shrugged, unwilling to give up the game.

“Can you teach me?” he asked, because he was always eager to learn.

Merrin looked him up and down, looked at Ahsoka, then turned her eyes back to Anakin again. After a few minutes of her staring, she gave him a blunt answer. “No.”

“Hey! Why not?!” Anakin asked, seemingly offended by her bluntness and lack of consideration.

“Because. It is a nightsister secret, and we only teach it to sisters.” Merrin said in a voice that screamed ‘duh’ and Ahsoka had to hold in her laugh at Anakin’s perplexed face.

In all seriousness, that was oddly touching. Surely Merrin had only been teasing Anakin, but it was no light thing to refer to someone as your sister, even in a joking context. Stranger still was the fact that Ahsoka didn’t mind at all, instead feeling honoured by this claim.

Maybe they weren’t sister by blood, but Ahsoka thought they could be by choice, given time to get to know each other and cause some mischief.

“Well, whatever. Come and see Obi-wan.” Anakin relented, leaving the room in a bit of a huff.

Merrin eyed her amusedly, before following after him, promising that she would keep teaching Ahsoka later. It was something she was looking forward to, learning the technique but also spending more time with the girl.

She was starting to grow on her, like a weirdly charismatic fungus.

The witches had betrayed him.

He could feel it in the force, the rotten remains of their so-called loyalty that continued to decay and spoil as it shriveled into nothingness. No matter how hard she had tried to hide it, smothering the force with images of the dark, of their allegiance to the Sith, no matter how strong she thought she was, he was stronger. He was intimately familiar with lies and deception, it was the building blocks of his power after all. Such familiarity brought with it recognition, and this had the bitter stench of betrayal all over it.

He couldn’t say he hadn’t expected as much, they were witches after all. A foul race, lacking the ambition necessary to truly be anything great. Dooku’s little pet had been bad enough, dealing with her mother was another story all together. Even though he had expected it, he had not anticipated how great the betrayal truly was. And if it was this obvious in the force, this clear, then it was most definitely of great importance.

What should have tipped him off immediately to such a crossroad was the presence of the anomaly on Dathomir.

Sidious had not noticed it at first, busy as he was with the pathetic propaganda campaign the republic seemed to be launching against him. Articles and interviews and dug up reports of his activities, the republic could not seem to get enough of it. Even after he had negated some of the threats, the rumors still remained. Sidious knew how dangerous rumors could be, so each day had been spent visiting the people, listening to their pitiful pleas, and restoring his image as a kindly old man who only wanted to help.

It was tedious, but necessary.

Those weak-minded fools, only capable of seeing what was put right in front of them. The media said one thing and they ate it up like starving dogs begging for food at their master’s dinner table. Well, Sidious was all too happy to give them something to chew on, as long as it was another victory for the separatist and a step closer to the day of the jedi’s demise. This single-minded goal, this one-track thought process had been the cause of his blindness.

It had taken all of his focus, but now he could see as plain as day.

That star in the force, the thing that had been ruining all of his plans with a determination that rivalled his own, it had been on Dathomir, and now it was here on Coruscant. It was close, so close, and yet still it evaded him. The feeling slipped through his fingers every time he looked for it, the force itself hiding its precious champion within the folds of obscurity. How it had managed to achieve that, Sidious didn’t know, but he would find out, one way or another.

And that was where the nightsisters came in.

The witches who had betrayed him right after his little problem had visited their pathetic planet. Certainly, that was no coincidence. Whatever the anomaly had done there, whatever it had said or influenced, it had caused the nightsisters to turn their back on him. After he had taken Maul from them, he had thought mother Talzin would have cultivated more sense than to betray him so openly, surely she had learned by now not to cross him.

It would seem not.

No matter, his schedule was rather free for the next few days, and Talzin had plenty of children to torment. Surely a visit to Dathomir wouldn’t go amiss, the old chancellor needed his time off after all, and what better way to rejuvenate oneself than enact vengeance on those who have wronged you. He would have to go himself he knew, no one else could be trusted. Not anymore. A message would need to be sent that told the rest of his pawns how traitors would be dealt with. Sidious would ensure they would never forget again. And then he could learn what the anomaly was, when he had the nightsisters at his feet begging for forgiveness.

Then, they would tell him exactly what he needed to know, they would spill their guts as they spilled their secrets on the identity of the anomaly and what were they doing to Sidious’s carefully laid plans.

The answers would come to him, it was only a matter of time.

When she was feeling lonely, Dresdema liked to wander to the edges of the nightsister camp and sit by the woods. There was something calming in the brush of wind, the quiet rustling of branches and leaves and small creatures scurrying about in the undergrowth that kept her coming back. It was a nice place to simply be, to exist outside of the clan for a moment.

More often than not, that was where she found herself.

It wasn’t that she was lonely necessarily, it was just that she missed her sister. To a lesser extent, she missed the spaceman and the jedi too.

All her life, Dres had lived on Dathomir without giving a second thought to the rest of the universe around her. Why would she? Everything she loved was on Dathomir, her Magicks, her mother, her sisters. Merrin. They were all right beside her and there was no need to think of anything else, to want for anything more. She had been happy, content with what life had given her.

Now, with Merrin off in the stars, following after the two men who had come and lit up their lives like blazing suns – well. It wasn’t that she was unhappy, she was just not as satisfied as she once was.

So, she went out there into the swamps to sit and think and torture herself. Merrin was fine she knew, Dres could still feel her through their bond, distant though she was. That was a cold comfort though when all she could picture was her and those two idiots, the jedi and the spaceman. Each time she closed her eyes she saw the three of them getting into trouble, getting caught by the Sith and dying far away where Dres couldn’t do anything to help.

In hindsight, she should have worried less about them and more about herself.

It was on one of those mornings, the cold empty ones where all Dres could feel was the space in the force where Merrin should be and the loss of the twin smiles Obi-wan and Cody had given her as they said their goodbyes, that he found her. She should have expected it, should have been more aware. But she wasn’t.

Everything seemed so normal, the trees whispering quietly to themselves in the way that they did and the air thick and humid. Dres sat on one of the broken logs, staring at the blaster in her hands as she turned it over and over in contemplation.

Then she felt it, the suffocating feeling that seemed to drain the world of all its color. Her hands itched, grasping her weapon tightly as she stood in one smooth motion from the rotting log. Quickly, she scanned the area, turning round to assess all angles. She couldn’t feel anyone, but she knew deep in her heart that she was being hunted.

Something was waiting for her in the darkness, someone was watching.

Silence flooded the forest, creeping over her in uneasy waves. It wasn’t natural for such noiselessness to take hold; the forest was always loud, always moving and rustling and cracking with the activities of the lifeforms that lived within it. Dead silence was not something Dresdema was familiar with, and her heartrate picked up at its sudden arrival.

Something was terribly, terribly wrong.

“You thought you could get away with it, didn’t you?” A hateful voice came from behind her, cruel as a new knife, and Dres whirled, bringing her blaster up in front of her. Or at least, she tried to. As her body twisted to face this enemy, a wave of nothingness knocked into her and she went sprawling backwards, head hitting the floor with a dull thud.

Without wasting a second, she scrambled to her feet, coming face to face with the cloaked figure in front of her.

There was no doubt in her mind now as to who this was, not even a seedling of hesitation stopped her from putting a name to the dark creature that faced her. After all, his presence had the same sort of emptiness that she had felt in her spaceman’s head.

“You have some nerve, Sidious.” She snarled, bringing her blaster back up again. The man just laughed, utterly at ease in the situation and Dresdema grit he teeth. This was not good, not in any way shape or form. She was certain her sisters would pick up on her fear through the force, but whether they would arrive on time or not was another question.

“Why are you here?” She tried, stalling for time in the only way she knew how, desperate to give her sisters enough time to reach her.

“I think we both know the answer to that question my dear.” The Sith said, and then his lightsaber ignited in a show of flashing red.

Without thinking about it, Dres shot at the Sith and ducked out of the way as he returned the bolts with his sabre, jumping up and over the flashes of light that fell around her. There was nothing she could do, she knew. This fight was as good as lost, but she had to hold out for as long as possible, as long as she could manage.

Gathering the power of Dathomir’s spirit ichor to her, Dres pulled herself into the shadows and reappeared behind the Sith, twisting her spear from her back and bringing it down on him. It wasn’t enough, the man had sensed her and turned in time to block to blow with a flick of his hand and a wave of the force. It sent her gun clattering to the ground and she felt the darkness surround her, suspending her in the air as she thrashed in its grip. This was a useless endeavor, and Dres remained there, motionless in the air, spear still in hand.

Green filled her vision as she pulled again, calling up all aspects of allusion she could remember, but the hold on her never faltered and she kicked futilely in the air, under the total control of the Sith.

“Now tell me,” That slithering voice said, like sickly treacle that stuck in her ears, “who was it that came here and bought your allegiance?”

Obi-wan and Cody, she realized, that was why he was here. He hadn’t been hunting her after all, he was hunting them. Not that he would find them, she would be dead and buried before she betrayed her friends. Because that was what they were, they were her friends and she protected what was hers.

“You’ll never find them. I’ll never tell you.” Dres said, choking out the words through her throat that was squeezed tight by the grip of the force.

In all honesty, Dres fully expected to die then and there. Sidious’ face twisted into an ugly snarl, and she fully believed he was about to strike her down, murder her for her insolence. Instead of death, there was a horrid pain in her head as the Sith dug claws into her mental shields, trying to rip them apart and expose the secrets inside.

Dres screamed, she couldn't help it, but the pain wasn't unwelcome. It was this moment of panic, of sheer terror and raw agony that allowed her to once more bring the force to her side, pulling the trigger of Cody’s blaster that was laying inconspicuously on the floor.

The Sith startled, dropping his hold on Dres as he brought his lightsaber down to block the blast.

Dresdema didn’t stick around to see if he succeeded, instead pushing herself off the floor and breaking into a dead sprint towards the nightsisters, flaring her force presence as she went, begging one of them to come and save her.

Too late, Dres realized the emptiness at her back. There was no time to process it, not as whiteness overtook her vision and utter agony sparked through her body in one quick motion.

She looked down and stared in horror at the line of red that pierced her abdomen, burning in its intensity though she could barely feel it for the adrenaline that overtook her.

As soon as it had happened, the lightsaber was gone and Dres was crashing to the floor, vaguely aware of the shouts of her sisters as darkness came up and engulfed her, stealing away her last strands of consciousness.

Obi-wan came home to the sound of laughter and was immediately greeted by three children launching themselves into his arms with a speed that spoke of absolute surety. Stumbling backwards only slightly, he returned the hug, squeezing Savage, Feral, and Anakin back whilst making eye contact with Cody over their heads, smiling softly at the man who was doing the same to him.

“Hello there.” He said gently, and three faces grinned sheepishly up at him, moving backwards to allow him space to breath.

After being ushered through the door and forcibly sat on one of the couches, Anakin went to get the girls and Cody sat down next to him, putting an arm over his shoulder and leaning into his side.

“Did you do it?” He asked quietly, brushing his thumb along Obi-wans knuckle in a way that made his breath stutter and face redden.

“Yes.” Obi-wan breathed, “Yes your brother is quite safe and on his way to Cut Lawquane”

Cody raised a brow amusedly at this but accepted it all the same. Obi-wan tucked his head into the crook of his shoulder and breathed in the warmth and love that was Cody. He had never felt safer than when in his commanders’ arms, and there was a selfish part of him that wanted to stay there forever, basking in that sense of belonging.

It was of course that moment that Ahsoka and Merrin chose to come bounding through the door.

“Obi-wan!” The two cried, launching themselves at him and once more Obi-wans arms were filled with his family. Honestly, he couldn’t have been gone more than six hours and they acted as though they hadn’t seen him in years. Not that he minded, it was entirely too endearing.

“Careful not to squeeze him too tight.” Cody joked, ruffling Merrin’s hair as she grinned at them through gapped teeth.

“I’m teaching Ahsoka how to shadow walk!” The girl exclaimed happily, causing both of the nightbrothers to gasp in awe and Anakin to grumble under his breath about how it can’t be that cool. Obi-wan stared blankly for a moment before laughing at the sheer ludicrously of it all. Ahsoka shadow walking? Anakin being jealous? The force certainly was laughing at him.

“Well, that will most definitely be a sight to see.” He said, smiling at Ahsoka who ducked her head shyly at the praise.

The kids broke off then, moving to sit on the floor as they blabbered to him about what they had been up to, the things Feral had learned from Anakin about the temple and how Savage had managed to brew a cup of tea all by himself (with a little instruction from a certain padawan).

Cody caught his attention, pointing discreetly to the plates of armor in the corner. The man had shed those guards, instead borrowing some plain jumpers from Obi-wans cupboard to wear instead of the uncomfortable armor and thin black under suit. It suited him, he looked good in Obi-wans clothes.

Glancing at the armor, Obi-wan’s breath stuttered slightly. Engraved on the pieces, carved with a delicate touch and careful reverence, were the names of their family. Merrin, Dres, Feral, Savage, Ahsoka, Anakin, Rex, about half of the 212^th, and there on the chest plate, right where Cody’s heart would be, was Obi-wans name.

It was a staggering display of loyalty and love that left Obi-wan with eyes that were most definitely not teary at all, they were entirely dry actually.

He grasped Cody’s hand tighter and leaned even further into the man’s side, uncaring of Ahsoka’s assessing gaze and Anakin’s oblivious one.

For a while they sat like that, listening to the kids talk and chat and gossip about temple life. He was half tempted to bring out a game of Sabback and get them all playing together, but for now he was content to just watch them chatter about meaningless things and amusing stories.

And then something happened.

Merrin, who had been sitting quite happily with her cup of juice and laughing at Anakin’s less than professional impression of Master Windu, began to breath a lot faster. At first, he thought nothing of it, putting it down to the breathlessness that laughter cause. Harder to pass off, was the way her force presence twisted in panic.

“Merrin?” He called, leaning forward from the couch and coming to crouch in front of her. Cody followed, grasping the girl’s shoulder gently as he rubbed a hand over her back.

“I can’t feel her. I can’t feel her, she’s gone I can’t – she’s gone.” Merrin said, and then broke out into big heaving sobs, the kind that wracked her small frame as she desperately tried to suck in breath. Around them, the kids had become even more panicked, and Cody was now holding her head to his chest, hugging her as she sobbed against him.

“Merrin? Merrin what’s going on, talk to me. What’s happening?” Obi-wan asked, gentle and firm, trying to push away his own panic to figure out what was going on.

“I can’t feel Dres, I can’t feel her Obi-wan I can’t – “ She said, her words interrupted by her cries that she tried desperately to stifle.

Cody looked up wildly, locking eyes with Obi-wan as they both took in this statement.

Dres was in trouble. Dres was dying.

Without thinking, Obi-wan reached out. Pushing further than he ever had before, he reached out through the force, following the thread of the weak bond they had formed as he tried to locate Dres. There was nothing on the other side of that thread, only an emptiness that had the lingering feelings of panic and fear.

So Obi-wan did the only thing he could think of doing, he pushed all of the strength all of the energy he had through the bond. Everything in him he gave over, every last piece of strength was sent to Dres in the hopes that it would help her survive.

Seconds passed as Merrin continued to cry and the children continued to panic around him. Come on Dres, he thought, please don’t let me lose anyone else.

A spark lit up his sense then and he couldn’t help the sound of utter relief that escaped his throat. Merrin sat up suddenly, still sobbing but not in sadness anymore; she could feel it too. Dres was alive. Weak, but alive. He had done it; he had saved her.

“She’s okay, She’s okay, she’s okay.” Merrin said like a mantra, as if repeating it would prove its truth. She relaxed back into Cody’s chest as he shushed her, stroking her hair gently. Obi-wan didn’t have the time to offer her the same comfort, not when his consciousness was fleeing from him fast.

The last thing he remembered before fainting was Cody’s eyes, wide as he lurched forward to catch him.

Chapter Text

"A lesson learned is a lesson earned." - Season 2, Episode 1

He woke up in fits and bursts, colors and lights flashing in his eyes like the blinking streaks of white in hyperspace that were so familiar, making him squeeze them shut. There were voices as well that were difficult to recognize, they felt far away and warped by some force he could not understand. No matter how hard he tried, he could never make out what they were saying. All he was aware of was their quiet murmuring that sometimes elevated into panicked shouts, though it was unclear what exactly they were so worried about. It was almost as though he was underwater, the light bending and sound warping in the waves that lapped above his head.

If unconsciousness felt like being underwater, waking up felt like drowning.

Obi-wan awoke gasping, sitting straight up in the bed he had been placed in with the urgency of a dying man who had not yet finished his will. Recognizing the temples infirmary took a while considering he had not been in it for many years, but once he had clocked the feel of the paper white sheets beneath him and the angle of the sun that blinded him, everything came rushing back in one horrible moment of clarity.

Sidious, the nightsisters, Dresdema, Merrin. And him, failing to save them.

Then, almost as quickly as that revelation hit him, he became aware of the hand on his shoulder, the voice whispering in his ear that everything was okay. There was only one person it could possibly be, and a part of him flooded with a deep-seated shame. Obi-wan could barely bring his head around to face him, he didn’t want to be seen in such a state, didn’t want him to see once and for all what exactly Obi-wan was; nothing more than a failure.

“Cody?” He asked, because he was a masochist and had to be sure, had to know for certain that it was his lovers’ hand on his shoulder, applying soft pressure that kept him grounded. Even if it meant facing his anger, Obi-wan drew comfort from the fact that his commander was beside him.

“I’m here Obi-wan, it’s okay, I’m right here. Just lie back, you’re okay, reax.” Cody said, pressing down a little harder on his shoulder to encourage this and Obi-wan gave in, relaxing back against the bed and letting Cody fuss over him. He didn’t deserve it, but he didn’t have the strength to protest. Selfishly, he wanted to bask in it, let himself be cared for in the way he wanted to be.

The voice in his head that whispered he didn’t deserve it wouldn’t let him.

“The kids?” He asked, because they were notably absent and that worried him. They had to be safe. They had to be.

“They’re just fine.” Cody assured, then smiled wryly. “Had to pry them away from your bedside though, I don’t think I’ve ever seen Skywalker look so mutinous.” He said and immediately the image of Anakin and the rest of the kids huddling up to discuss a rebellion against Cody jumped into Obi-wans mind, and he chuckled softly. The thought was just too clear, too believable. It was hard to banish the picture of Ahsoka sneak attacking Cody with the help of Anakin whilst Savage and Feral rushed in through the hospital doors.

In all seriousness, it was rather impressive that Cody had managed to remove Anakin and Ahsoka from the room. He remembered it had not been so easy during the clone wars, and quite often he had awoken in the field hospital with two padawans asleep at the end of his bed, snoring softly with their heads resting against one another. At the time, he was glad for it. He had let them sleep, knowing that they weren’t getting the rest they needed and all too happy to act as a pillow for his sleepy kids.

“I’m not even going to ask how you managed that.”  He said.

“Emotional blackmail.” Cody replied without missing a beat, voice completely deadpan. It startled another laugh out of Obi-wan, and for the first time since he had woken up he managed to look Cody in the eye, ignoring the guilt that was bubbling in his stomach.

“You stayed?” he asked, rubbing a thumb over the hand that was resting on his shoulders.

“Of course I did.” Cody said, and it was all Obi-wan had wanted to hear. Cody still loved him, still wanted to stay even after – after that.

The thought was sobering, and they fell into a silence, the kind that neither Cody nor Obi-wan could bear to break. Such things were too fragile, such grief too fresh, and it almost felt as though speaking would make it real. If he acknowledged his failures, they would suddenly exist outside the bitter comforts of his own mind and Obi-wan wasn’t sure he was ready for the reality of that.

But he owed the nightsisters more than that. He had to find out what his actions had caused.

“How many?” He asked quietly, and Cody visibly stalled, the hand that had been rubbing Obi-wans shoulder coming to a halt. He looked pained, as though he could not bear to utter another word. Any hope that Obi-wan had held onto crashed and burned, falling into the abyss of grief.

“Obi-wan this isn’t your fault -”

“How many.” He asked again, because he had to know. There was no point in wondering whose fault it was, it had happened and he hadn’t been able to do anything.

Cody took a breath, shifting forward on his seat and Obi-wan braced himself for whatever horrific news was about to be delivered to him.

“As far as we know, he killed thirty-three before Talzin and the others were able to drive him off.” Cody said, and time stopped.

The glass of water next to him shattered with a loud crash, and he could feel the burn of tears well up in his eyes. Whether they were from grief or helplessness, not even Obi-wan could be sure.

Thirty-three. Thirty-three nightsister who had laughed and cried alongside with Merrin, who had danced with Dres and guided Obi-wan to the camp and died facing an enemy that they could not possibly have defeated. Did they even know who it was that had come for them? Were they even aware of just how outmatched they were? He could imagine them, defending Dres as they threw themselves at an enemy, not waiting for backup because they didn’t think it necessary. He could see them in his mind, falling one after the other and suddenly being hit by fear, suddenly realizing the gravity of the situation as the life bled from their bodies. And for what? Why had Sidious felt the need to destroy them this time? It had been Dooku before who wanted revenge, and they had all been wiped out. So why leave some alive? What was the purpose?

And then it hit him. It wasn’t about the nightsisters at all, it had never been about the nightsisters. This was about sending a message to the one person in the galaxy who had successfully thwarted his plans.

“There was nothing more you could have done.” Cody said, and Obi-wan wanted to cry.

“Don’t you see?” He asked, too tired to put any inflection into his voice and allowing it to come out in a wet rasp. “This wasn’t about them, it was never about them, it’s about me.” He explained, and Cody grasped his hand.

“Obi-wan?”

“It was a message for me. He was showing me what happens to those who go against him,” His voice cracked, and Obi-wan knew he should have felt humiliated or embarrassed, but he didn’t think he had the capacity to feel anything in that moment. “I put them in danger, I brought him there –“

“No.” Cody interrupted, and his gaze was furious, burning with righteous anger.  “Don’t do that, don’t you dare.” His voice rose, and it was clear that he was barely restraining the anger that was bubbling within him. “Talzin didn’t betray him for you, she betrayed him for the sake of her people. The nightsisters made their choice, and they knew the consequences of it. Don’t take that away from them.” He finished, and it was perhaps the first time Obi-wan had seen Cody genuinely lose control of his emotions.

The guilt came back in a flood, and Obi-wan desperately wanted to reach out, to grasp Cody’s chin and beg for forgiveness. If there was one thing that Cody deserved to be angry about, it was choices being taken away from people.

“Ni ceta Cody, Ni ceta.” He said, Mando’a falling naturally off his lips because it felt right, as though the phrase meant more to Cody than a simple Sorry. It meant more to Obi-wan himself with the year he had spent on Mandalore, his knowledge of the literal translation: I kneel. He wanted to in that moment, to get on his knees and beg Cody for forgiveness, not just for his slight against the choices of the nightsisters, but for everything. All of his failures, all of his shortcoming, all of his mistakes, and even then, it didn’t feel like it covered the well of guilt and shame inside of him. “I didn’t mean – “

“I know.” Cody said softly, Cutting him off. The anger had faded from his face, instead of fury in almond shaped eyes there was a tiredness that Obi-wan understood. There was a type of aging that was not caused by years but experiences, and both he and Cody had plenty of those. The lines around his commanders’ eyes spoke of equal parts laughter and stress, the crescent shaped scar making them look worn. There was grief there too, and forgiveness.

“You saved her Obi-wan,” he said quietly, eyes cast down, “you saved them. I saw what happened before, I saw their genocide, you stopped that.” Cody said, carding a hand through Obi-wans hair with a type of painstaking care that made him want to cry.

“It wasn’t enough.”

“Maybe not, but it was something. That’s more than anyone else has done. We do what we can. We endure.” Cody said.

Obi-wan quieted, turning that phrase over in his head. Yes, he thought, we endure. It was all he had ever done, from a very young age. He had endured Bandomeer, Qui-gons hate, Melida/daan. He had endured death and war and loss, and even when he felt hopeless and powerless, he had tried to steel himself, to continue on for the sake of those around him. He had smiled at Padme as he held the twins, he had told Anakin he would care for him as his master was burned on the funeral pile.

He had come back in time and pretended he wasn’t in love with his Commander who did not know him anymore than Obi-wan knew himself.

Maybe that was who he was at his core, the defining feature of Obi-wan. It was almost comical when he considered his favorite form, surely it was no coincidence that Soresu was known for its masterful defense and need for extreme endurance. It seemed Cody would always know him better than he knew himself.

“How’s Merrin?” He asked, because he remembered what it was like to survive a genocide, and even though the nightsisters had not suffered complete destruction, the loss would still be a crushing blow to the mischievous little girl who thought the world of her clan.

“How you would expect.” Cody said, rubbing his jaw.  “It’s been hard, but she’s – she’s dealing.”

Right, dealing. There were many ways to ‘deal’ with trauma and grief, Obi-wan just hoped Merrin had found a way that wasn’t self-destructive. He resolved to talk with her once Master Che had given him the go ahead to get up and wasn’t likely to forcibly sedate him and drag him back to the halls of healing if he so much as took a single step out the door.

“Is she with the others?”

“Yes. I’m surprised actually, Skywalker really stepped up to the task. He’s been – he’s been great with her.” Cody said, and for a man who had such an obvious dislike of his padawan, the tone was awfully fond. Obi-wan didn’t blame him for the scepticism he harbored, after seeing what Anakin – what Vader had done in the future it was only natural. Cody didn’t know him like Obi-wan did, couldn’t forgive the boy he had raised in the same way.

Or so he had thought. It was becoming increasingly obvious that Cody’s contempt towards him was faltering with every cheeky smile and mocking salute.

“Is this your way of forgiving him?” Obi-wan asked teasingly, and Cody rolled his eyes.

“Not yet.” He said in what was probably supposed to be a gruff tone. He paused, mulling something over before speaking again. “But we’re getting there.”

Obi-wan smiled. He had always known Cody was a softy at heart, capable of holding grudges for long periods of time, but even more capable of getting reeled in by the sarcasm and snark of kids. It was endearing to watch, and hilarious when one of the clones who had found themselves in Cody’s bad books saw the way he acted with them.

“How are you?” Obi-wan asked. It must have given Cody quite a fright, seeing Merrin panic like that and Obi-wan faint. Sometimes it was hard to imagine how people who weren’t force sensitive saw such things, and Obi-wan wasn’t sure he wanted to.

“I’m fine.” Cody said, clearly trying to sound better than he was.

“Cody.” Obi-wan intoned, looking right into his eyes, silently asking him to be honest. Cody had always been a private person, keeping things as professional as possible, but Obi-wan had seen sides of him that he wasn’t sure anyone else ever had. Cody had been more open with him than he had ever thought possible, but still in times like these he almost wished he could crack open the mans head and learn what it was that was bothering him, what worries plagued his mind. If he had the power to, Obi-wan would plant a garden of lavender in his head and let it ease the anxieties of his mind.

Cody sighed. “It’s been difficult, especially with you asleep, but I’m fine.” He said, and at Obi-wan insistent gaze added to his statement. “Angry, but fine. I don’t think I’ve ever wanted to kill someone more.” He said, and there was on odd sort of humor in his voice that was sharpened by the same burning feeling that built in Obi-wans chest whenever he thought of Sidious.

“I know the feeling.” He said, and it was true. The Jedi weren’t supposed to hate, they were never allowed to let such feelings cloud their judgement. Even the slightest touch of the dark side could be alluring, and such things were forbidden by the code.

That being said, Obi-wan figured he could make an exception for Sidious.

Despite being in multiple wars over the years, fighting many foes and killing a good deal of them, he had never actually wanted to do such things. There had never been a time that he genuinely wanted to kill someone, not even Ventress or Dooku.

But Sidious was different. Obi-wan wanted him dead and buried and by the force he would do it himself if he had to.

“Luckily,” Cody started, smiling viciously, “we have an advantage now.”

Obi-wan looked at him questioningly, and Cody only grinned all the wider. “We had word from Talzin, they made Sidious pay through the nose for what he did.” It was clear that the Sith wasn’t dead, but Obi-wan took a feral sort of glee in the idea of Talzin forcing him off of her planet, showing him he was not infallible. Cody continued on, still smiling with too many teeth. “He’ll be returning to coruscant, and when he does, we’ll be waiting.”

Yes, Obi-wan thought, they would be. But first, they would need to plan and prepare. They had to finish de-chipping the battalions, had to make sure Sidious expected nothing of their treason. They would have to work fast.

“We’ll need to move up our timeline –“

“Already done.” Cody said. “The council work quickly when they want to –“ The key phrase, Obi-wan thought, being when they want to “ – The attack showed them exactly what he was capable of, gave them that little kick into action.” Cody smiled wryly at this, and Obi-wan shared his amusement. The council were stuck up at times and put off any action for long periods of time, but Yoda could whack their shins into order when he needed to.

It was a relief that such things were already sorted, and Obi-wan relaxed back into the bed, turning to face Cody. He was quickly becoming aware that studying the man’s face was one of his favorite activities, cataloguing all the freckles, finding where the sun caught in those dark eyes, and committing to memory the way his scar curved gently around his eye, a crescent moon that was segmented by areas of smooth skin.

“Thank you, Cody. For staying.” He said, and once more the lines around his commander’s eyes relaxed, expression turning unbearably soft as he looked back at Obi-wan, maintaining eye contact in a way that felt intimate.

“Of course, Obi-wan.”

Merrin had never thought of herself as an angry person. She had her moments, as everyone did, where she lost her temper in a fit of unhappiness. But it had always been anger, not fury. Whenever it happened, whenever she lashed out in a childish bout of misplaced frustration, Dres would find her. There was a hollow in one of the trees that Merrin liked to hide in when embarrassed by her actions, and Dres knew exactly where she would be.

It was routine, the talking to she would get afterwards. Dres would crouch down beside her and try to look disappointed, ‘What happened moya malenka vidma?’ she would say, and it would always make Merrin giggle. It had been what Dres called her for as long as she could remember, ever since she was able to understand the words her sister spoke, she had been saying it; my little witch. When she said it, it was to call Merrin sweet but stubborn, a trait Dres had always joked of her having. In that moment she would lose it, the stubbornness to ignore her. All pretences of anger would fall away to ash, shame would burst anew, and Merrin would realise she was not angry at all, just hurt.

Then, Dres would hug her and Merrin would laugh. They would walk back to the camp and eat smoked burra fish, clutching each other’s hands and doing impressions of rancor roars as they went.

But Dres wasn’t here now. She was on Dathomir, hurt and dying and Merrin was so angry that she felt as though she was about to burst. Never before had she felt this way, so hot it felt like she was burning, fury coursing through her veins like water bubbling over in a pan. At any moment she thought it would spill out of her, and she had left the others to ensure she didn’t shout at them.

It wasn’t their fault, but she couldn’t help how furious she was with them all, for trying to comfort her when there was nothing that could be done to erase what she was feelings. They didn’t understand, none of them did. With every sympathetic glance Feral sent her way and every attempt at humor Ahsoka made, Merrin became more and more sure of this, more and more frustrated with them. But mostly with herself.

Instead of stewing in this anger, she tried to find something to do. She thought maybe if she kept herself busy, she would be so distracted that she would forget the way Dres had disappeared, the tether between them snapping quick as an asp, springing back towards her with fraying ends that seemed to almost slash at her force presence. There was nothing she could do but cry and scream and panic as Obi-wan fainted and she thought for a second that she had lost him too.

Then Dres had lit back up, just a little bit, like a weak ember that was fighting to stay alive. It didn’t stop Merrin from feeling helpless.

It did, however, give her an idea. Whatever Obi-wan had done, he had saved her sister. It must have been some sort of long-distance healing, or perhaps an energy exchange? She wasn’t entirely sure, but she knew where she could find out.

She had been to the halls of healing before to see Obi-wan after what had happened. Wandering the halls of the temple, she tried to remember the way there. A left then a right, through the carved marbled archway and down through the line of giant pillars. Her focus was almost absolute, but even with everything else, the sheer size of it all almost overwhelmed her. It felt almost impossible for people to build such things, so tall and grand and clean.

It was only a matter of time before she found herself utterly lost. Not that she would admit it to herself, but she could no longer remember whether she had turned left by the statues of sentinels or continued down the weaving corridor. With every turn she took, every unfamiliar room, helplessness grew within her like a seed of poison, blooming up through her stomach and into her lungs until eventually she collapsed on the floor, sobbing into her hands.

She missed Dres, she missed home and she didn’t know where she was. She wanted to curl up into a ball and hide away from the world. She wanted Obi-wan to wake up and ruffle her hair like he usually did, Cody standing by his side looking on with soft eyes. She wanted Dres to come and find her, to smooth back the wisps of hair that had fallen out of place and call her moya malenka vidma. She wanted to go home.

“Uhm, are you okay?” Someone asked, and Merrin turned quickly, shocked that she hadn’t noticed them sneaking up on her.

The boy was young, probably the same age as her with red hair like Obi-wans and a long robe that she recognized as temple made. His blue eyes scrunched up in concern, wrinkling the pale skin around them that was littered with freckles.

Merrin sniffled, rubbing at her eyes. A sudden embarrassment overcame her at how pathetic she must look, dressed in a nightsister robe and sobbing on the cold floor of an unfamiliar place. She cleared her throat, trying to speak through the tears that refused to stop running down her face. “I need to see the head healer.”

The boy grew even more concerned, looking her over as though checking if she was about to pass away on the spot. “Oh -uhm, are you hurt?” He asked, coming closer and bending down a little to talk to her.

“No.” She said, unwilling to say anything more about why she was here, crying on the floor like a little girl. Merrin knew this was a silly thing to think because she was a little girl, but she was also a nightsister and that meant she had to be strong, no matter what.

“O – oh. Uhm, I can bring you to her?” The boy said, looking confused but eager to help. Merrin decided that she liked him, he seemed kind and his force presence felt like a spring breeze, gentle and calming but capable of turning into a gale if pushed.

She nodded, then stood up. Carefully, she brushed down her red training dress and smoothed the crinkles, wanting to look more put together than she felt. Once she had done this, the boy smiled and started walking, so she followed carefully by his side, still trying to stop her sniffling.

“I’m Cal by the way.” The boy said, filling in the silence as they walked. He seemed eager to chat, and it made her feel a little bit better about the state he had found her in.

“Merrin.”

Cal nodded, glancing at her hair and at her clothing. She refused to turn and look at him, knowing that she probably looked very strange to him, as he did to her.

“Are you a crecheling?” He asked, and Merrin wasn’t entirely sure what the word meant, although it was most likely a jedi rank. He looked at her hair again. “You don’t have a padawan braid.” He remarked, and she looked over at the little stump of hair by his ear that had been woven into a small braid with a bead on it. She knew Ahsoka was a padawan, but she didn’t have a braid, but maybe that was because she didn’t have hair. Merrin did see a string of beads though that she wore, maybe that was something similar?

“I’m a nightsister.” She said in answer to his question, and her chest ached again for her coven. She was proud of them, proud of who she was and where she was from, but she wished they were here with her to share in that feeling.

“What’s that?” Cal asked, puzzled by the word. Merrin smiled, happy to talk about her family.

“A powerful warrior witch from dathomir.” She said, not quite boasting but not strictly being entirely unbiased either. At her response, Cal’s face lit up like one of the jedi’s laser swords, becoming far more animated than it had been before.

“You’re from Dathomir?!” He exclaimed, coming to a standstill in the middle of the hallway. She nodded, and he mouthed the word ‘dathomir’ to himself again as though he couldn’t quite believe it. “Awesome.” He said quietly, beginning to move again at a much slower pace.

“I’ve never been off coruscant” He admitted, sounding a little embarrassed by this fact. Merrin wanted to tell him all about her planet, the rolling thunder that sometimes came with the frequent storms and the swamp creatures that they learned to hunt. She wanted to explain how amazing the nightsisters were and all of the magick they learnt from each other and from Talzin. She wished she could talk to him about the marshes and the rancors and the nightbrother village, but when she opened her mouth, the words got stuck. They formed a lump in her throat and no matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t force them out.

“This is my first time off Dathomir.” She said instead, swallowing everything else back as she tried not to start crying again.

Cal didn’t say anything else for a while, and they walked together in silence through the twisting archways and under the sloping roofs. Merrin took the time to gather her thoughts, reaching out in the force to feel the weak signal of Dres, assuring herself that her sister was still there. It made her feel a bit better, not so alone in the world. But there was never any response, never a wave of comfort or love from the other end of the bond. Merrin knew her sister was still asleep, but that didn’t stop the loneliness she felt when there was no response to her desperation.

“I can show you around the temple if you want, after you’ve seen Master Che.” Cal said suddenly in one breath, as though the words would disappear from his mind if he did not force them out quickly.

“Master Che?” Merrin asked, never having heard the name before.

“The head healer.” Cal said, then winced. “She’s suuupppeerrr scary sometimes, but she’s nice.” Merrin frowned, suddenly feeling a little nervous about going to this woman to ask what she was going to ask.

“Uhm, okay then.” She said in answer to his question. Perhaps having a guide to keep her from getting lost again would be useful, and Cal seemed nice enough. If she ever had to find her way back to the halls of healing to visit Obi-wan, it would be nice to have someone to lead her there.

They fell into silence once more, but it did not last long as soon they came upon the great arch the opened into the halls of healing, white beds lined up along the wall and a woman a blue woman in a white coat milling about between them all.

“There she is!” Cal said, and Merrin figured the blue woman must be Vokara Che. It was strange seeing a blue person, since there were none on Dathomir. Ever since leaving her home planet Merrin had been seeing a lot of strange things, and the woman was just another person to add to the list. Even Ahsoka had been a little bit of a shock, though her coloring was more familiar as there were some nightbrothers with the same dusky orange skin. That being said, Merrin had almost fainted when she watched the Togruta crack an uncooked egg directly into her mouth and swallow it.

“good luck,” Cal continued and Merrin turned to look at him, breaking the intense gaze she had been focusing on the head healer, “I’ll mourn you if she bites your head off.” Merrin laughed a little at this, then took a deep breath. She was almost certain that Cal was joking, but it was still a possibility that the woman could in fact bite her head off if she so pleased. She didn’t know how her species appetite worked, and after Ahsoka’s terrifying display she wasn’t sure she wanted to find out.

But Merrin was a nightsister, and her teeth were sharp too. With a wavery smile that she sent back at her new friend, she marched right into the room and into the path of Vokara Che.

The woman didn’t notice at her at first, too absorbed by the data pad in her hand. She was clicking away furiously at it, Lekku (she had learned that word from Ahsoka) twitching ever so slightly as she did so. There was not even the slightest indication that she had noticed Merrin’s presence, but she didn’t care. She was certain the healer knew she was there, and she wasn’t about to just leave because they were being rude. She hadn’t come all of this way for nothing.

After a few more minutes of waiting in stubborn silence, Merrin cleared her throat. Vokara Che sighed dramatically, then peered over the edge of her data pad to stare at Merrin.

“And who might you be?” She asked in a stern voice that was equal parts terrifying and comforting. Merrin was struck by a sudden realization of why she was head healer. Even on Dathomir it was known that healers had to be scary enough to keep patients in bed, particularly the ones who tried to get out of them. This knowledge strengthened her resolve, and finally she found her voice.

“I’m Merrin. From Dathomir.” She said, and Master Che raised one of her brows.

“Are you injured Merrin from Dathomir?” She asked, casting a critical eye over Merrin that made her want to shy away. Her gaze was piercing, seemingly unavoidable, and though terror was growing within Merrin’s chest, so was a sense of admiration for this woman who seemed so clearly in command and capable.

”No.” She said, and the Healers gaze grew even more critical.

“Then why are you here, crowding up my hospital?”

Merrin had been waiting for this question, for the answer was something that she had thought about for a long time. Ever since Merrin had – ever since the incident she had been thinking about it. She had been useless before, but she never would be again.

“I need you to teach me how to heal.” Merrin said, fully confident that this was the best course of action.

Vokara Che set down the holo pad and appraised her, casting her gaze over Merrins face. Her arms crossed over her chest, and she seemed to be thinking very deeply about what she was about to say, though her expression betrayed nothing but vague annoyance.

“No.” she said eventually, and Merrin’s heart sunk.

“Why not?” She protested, and even to her it sounded like the whining of a child.

“You are not a Jedi, and you are too young to learn.” Vokara said as if this was all obvious and Merrin had made a grievous error in overlooking it. “I am not in the market for an apprentice.”

The woman turned to leave then, picking up the data pad and beginning to tap away at it again. Hopelessness was becoming a very familiar feeling for Merrin, and she had to shove it down with both hands. She grit her teeth and willed herself to stay where she was, to fight this decision that to her seemed nonsensical.

“Please, I need to learn.” She said, desperation slipping into the edges of her tone. “I – I can’t be helpless again!”   

This seemed to get Vokara’s attention as she stopped typing, once more settling her gaze on Merrin’s face. Taking this as a sign to continue, Merrin explained. “I want to be able to help people, to be useful.” She thought of how Obi-wan had fainted, how Cody had carried him in his arms all the way to the halls of healing and how she had done nothing but cry. “Please teach me, even if it’s not much, I want to learn. Please.”

Vokara was silent, and Merrin had half a mind to get down on her knees and beg, whatever it took to learn she would do. Thankfully, she was spared this humiliation by the healer’s rough voice.

“If you choose this, it will not be a halfway deal.” Vokara said, and immediately Merrin straightened to attention. “It will be grueling, and challenging, and I will not allow you to give up.” Master Che said as if this was a threat. It was not; Merrin had no intention of giving up.

“I won’t.” She promised. “I want to learn. I need to learn.”

“Come back tomorrow at 7am.” Master Che said, and Merrin fought the urge to cheer. The healers resolve had broken; Merrin would be a healer.  “When you get here,” Master Che continued, “I want you to come straight to me and tell me what you’ve learned from this.” She handed Merrin the data tablet she had been holding and pointed to the documents downloaded on it. Amongst them, Merrin could see files entitled ‘Atlas of near-human anatomy’ and ‘the principles and practice of medicine’ but only caught a glimpse of these before the holopad was shoved into her hand.

She looked down at it with a careful reverence, hugging it to her chest. She would learn it, whatever it took. Even if it kept her up all night, exhausted and confused, Merrin would learn it. She was going to be a healer, and then she would make sure Dres never got hurt again. Any injury, any illness that overcame those she loved, Merrin would fix it.

“If I find your memory and dedication sufficient, I will take you on as an apprentice.” Master Che said, and Merrin could see that the woman was already dismissing her from her mind, deciding already that Merrin would fail to impress. She was wrong. Merrin would show her. She would prove her worth to then all.

“Thank you.” She said graciously “I won’t let you down.”

Chapter Text

"Fear is a disease; hope is its only cure." - Season 1, Episode 7

If there was one place Rex felt like he didn’t belong, it was the jedi temple. That wasn’t to say that he disliked the temple exactly, it just felt too large, too clean for him. Every time he spent even a minute within the marbled walls, he almost felt like he was intruding on something. Like he wasn’t supposed to be there at all and that at any moment he would get kicked out on his shebs.

But that hadn’t happened. At least not yet. As it stood, he was hovering besides one of the intricately carved pillars that supported the sloping roof, trying not to make himself too obvious. No one had commented on his presence, and he tried to forget the voice in his mind that was trying its best to convince him that a clone had no business in the temple, just as a rat had no business in a mansion.

All Rex had ever known of home was a too clinical training facility and a military cruiser. He had the barracks as well, but he was finding more and more that his home wasn’t exactly a place, it was a people. It was his brothers. And there was nothing wrong with that - it was better that way. During war, it was better not to get too attached to a single place. Not when you could get picked up and shipped out at a moments notice. But still, what he had felt almost inadequate compared to this. Now, standing in what was General Skywalker and Commander Tano’s home, he couldn’t help but feel – jealous, almost, of having such a place to call your own.

Rex turned again, shifting in his armor and frowning beneath his helmet. It was hot and he could already feel the sweat soaking into his blacks. Cody should be here by now, unless Rex had gotten his schedule very wrong. He had gotten up an hour earlier to catch his vod, and there was not a single sign of him to be found.

Rex wasn’t worried exactly, not yet anyways. Really, there shouldn’t be anything to be worried about, which is exactly why he wasn’t worrying. Not at all. He knew Cody could handle himself, better than any of them if he was honest. Cody was suspicious by nature, and that was what had kept him alive this long, securing his place beside General Kenobi. But it was that fact exactly that had Rex – concerned, if not really and truly worried about his brother. It had been weeks since Rex had last seen him, his Vod had been sent away to Dathomir for some sort of mission with Kenobi. There had been no contact, no holocalls, no messages, nothing. Rex was ashamed to admit that he had thought, as the days dragged on and there was not a single sign of his vod, that Cody had left and was marching far away. But he wasn’t. He had returned without a hair a single hair out of place, and then instead of checking in with the rest of the clone commanders had spent every last second beside his General.

Maybe this wasn’t as strange as Rex was making it out to be, after all, surely he would be worried about General Skywalker if something happened to him. But there was something else that was causing the horrid feeling in his chest. The news had spread quickly amongst the clone commanders and captains, those that the medics knew they could trust. Kix had told him, face distraught and helpless as he recounted the list of orders that had been found on the chip that was wedged in their heads. Rex had gotten his removed immediately, but Cody had been away on Dathomir with no medics. There was every chance that he still had that – that shit in his head.

Pair that with his sudden devotion to General Kenobi and – well, Rex wasn’t entirely sure what it meant, but it had him worried.

So, he had left early in the morning to find Cody on his trip to the halls of healing. Rex had been trying to figure out the best time to talk with him, had committed his schedule to memory so he could corner Cody. His Vod would be finished his paperwork by now, he completed it every morning without fail in the methodical manner that he had, and on his way to visit the general, who apparently was awake now after three days of unconsciousness.

Cody was easy to spot and as soon as he turned the corner into the hall Rex caught sight of him. He stood out like a sore thumb in the jedi temple with his 212^th armor and Rex became all the more aware of how much he was likely standing out against the refined colors of the jedi. What was more notable about Cody, however, was that he was missing his helmet. In all fairness, that could be attributed to the sweltering heat that threatened to suffocate Rex within his own bucket, but he needed to stay vigilant, and any sign of abnormal behavior should be taken into account. Probably. That was how scientific research worked, right?

“Cody!” He called, pulling his bucket off and coming to stand beside his Vod. Cody glanced around and caught his gaze, edges of his mouth quirking up a little at the sight of Rex.

“Rex! how are you?” He asked, beginning to walk again as Rex fell into step beside him, holding his helmet down at his side as they strode through the halls of the temple. Again, that feeling of anxiousness threatened to overwhelm him as he walked through the gaping halls with his face on show. He felt that at any second someone would tell him off, criticize him for even thinking of entering such a holy place. He tried to dismiss these thoughts, focusing instead on the rhythm of Cody’s steps.

“Fine, fine.” He said absently, dismissing the question. “Where were you?” he asked and it was clear he wasn’t talking about Cody’s time on Dathomir.

Cody frowned a little in a way that would be imperceptible to anyone but a clone. It was strange, knowing all the little details of your brothers face because it was the same as your own. In cases like this, however, it was extremely helpful.

“I was making sure Obi-wan was okay.” Cody said eventually, and his voice was carefully neutral. Not neutral in the Cody way, not even in the deadpan way that sometimes had Rex holding in a laugh at the most inappropriate moments, this was almost a defensive neutrality. That was concerning. Something was wrong, clearly, and Rex needed to find out what. He replayed the sentence over in his mind and couldn’t help but notice one very important detail.

“Obi-wan?” He asked, because that was what Cody had called him. Not the General, not Kenobi, but Obi-wan. He had thought he knew his vod better than that, hell had thought Cody was smarter than that.

“General Kenobi.” Cody amended bluntly, tone once more turning defensive, refusing to look at Rex.

Rex stopped, putting a hand on Cody’s shoulder and forcing him to do the same. He looked at him, really looked at him, trying to find something, anything, that would explain his Vod’s behavior.

“Cody, Vod, are you – are you okay?” He asked carefully. Cody could be standoffish at times, unwilling to talk about things that were bothering him as was the same with most clones, but Rex knew he couldn’t let this go, not if Kenobi had – well. Hopefully it wasn’t that.

“Of course.” Cody said, moving to leave. Rex pulled him back, not harshly, just forcefully enough to make him listen.

“You called him Obi-wan, with no titles.” He explained, and even saying it sounded strange to his ears. “That isn’t like you, are you sure you can trust him?” He asked, because Cody knew better than this. Cody knew that they were little more than slaves, that they had no rights whatsoever and if one day Kenobi grew tired of his commander, that would be it. He would be sent to decommissioning and Rex would have to mourn another brother.

Cody clenched his jaw, face growing defensive, almost angry. “Obi-wan – general Kenobi is a good man. I trust him.”

Rex clenched his jaw slightly, trying not to betray anything of what he was feeling. He didn’t want Cody to know how terrified he was for him, didn’t want to give away even a fraction of the fear that seemed to permeate the very air around him.

“Cody,” he said slowly, emphasizing his brother’s name as though it were a mantra or prayer, “that’s what worries me, you’ve known him a few months, hell not even a full year and you already trust him?” He knew his voice had an angry edge to it, knew it sounded like an attack on his brother’s judgement, but he couldn’t help that feeling in his chest seep through into his tone.

Cody clenched his jaw and shrugged Rex’s hand off his shoulder. It was clear that Cody was angry now as well, or at least annoyed. His face twitched slightly through intervals of unnerving blankness and for a long moment he simply stood there looking at Rex. Then, he relaxed, slipped back into the role of the commander and would have seemed entirely at ease if Rex had not witnessed – whatever that was.

“He has proven his worth.” Cody said, then moved to keep walking, trying to finish the conversation.

No. Rex was not finished yet. He grabbed Cody’s shoulder again, almost pulling him around to face him. “Cody, I’m not trying to criticize you.” He said, but it didn’t change the blank expression on his Vods face.

This wasn’t working, Rex had to take another approach. If Cody wasn’t responding to his subtle digging, then Rex would need to be more explicit. In the middle of the Jedi temple. With hundreds of jedi who could be listening in on the conversation. Perfect.

“Did he – he hasn’t – what I mean to say is, he hasn’t done anything to you has he?” Rex asked, and as soon as the words had left his mouth Cody’s anger exploded, no longer simmering behind the mask but painting itself across his face. It was impossible to overlook the utter fury that Cody exerted at Rex doubting Kenobi.

“What are implying, vod.” He bit out, shoving Rex back a little to get out of his grip.

Rex needed to backtrack. Immediately. “It’s just,” He began carefully, trying not to say anything else that would provoke such a response, “you care about him, clearly. I’m worried for you.”

Cody scoffed. “Would you let general Skywalker lie alone in the infirmary?” He asked, and the image of Skywalker lying unresponsive in a white bed jumped into Rex’s mind. He smothered it instantly, trying not to think of how he would react in Cody’s situation. Without his consent, the image of Skywalker twisted into Commander Tano, face bloodied and slack as doctors injected her with pain killer.

He clenched his fist. This conversation was not about them, nor was it about him. “That’s not –“ He began, then changed his mind. “Cody, I am only concerned –“

“I don’t need your concern, Rex.” Cody cut in, and Rex could see he was already beginning to dismiss the discussion as a whole. “I am perfectly fine.”

Rex sighed. For now, he would just have to accept what Cody said. There was no progress being made this way and it was clear his brother was unwilling to talk about whatever Kenobi had done to earn his trust. So, for now Rex would have to put his own trust in Cody’s judgement. Still, he resolved to keep an extra eye on the situation, just in case.

“Okay,” he relented, and Cody relaxed, “I get it. I just – there’s been reports.” At his brothers frown he elaborated. “Of General Krell. I don’t want you to get hurt.”

“General Krell?” Cody asked, one part confused and two parts commanding.

In truth, it had been rather horrifying to hear of. The commander of Krell’s battalion, Duster, had been in touch with Rex ever since the 501^st had run a mission alongside them, and his reports were nothing short of utterly appalling. Not only did Krell have the highest clone casualties of all the battalions, but according to Duster he had a reputation for treating clones like scum. Those under his command had learned to fear his anger.

“The clone commander is handling it, but they need to be careful.” He told Cody instead of saying any of these things. His brother didn’t need that kind of weight on his shoulders. “We need to be careful.”

Cody didn’t look angry anymore, just sad. It was disorientating to see such an expression on his Vod’s face, usually Cody was so put together.

“I know Rex.” He said, and now it was him who put his hand on Rex’s shoulder. “I am. General Kenobi is a good man; he treats the men well. Ask anyone in the 212^th, you’ll hear the same thing.”

Rex nodded. In truth, he had already interrogated half of the 212^th and had received the same message. For all intents and purposes, Kenobi appeared to be exactly that, a good man who treated the men well. Paranoia, Rex thought, was a bitch.

As Cody began to walk away, leaving him standing there in the middle of the temple like an idiot, his brother turned around again.

“How’s the headache by the way?” And the last of Rex’s suspicion melted away. It was a phrase the vode had come up with, a subtle way of asking if the chip had been removed. If Cody knew it, then he was also aware of the chips, and if he was willing to talk about it, he was likely not under its influence.

Rex tapped the side of his head, the side that he knew had a scar from where the incision had been made. “Good as new.” He said and Cody grinned, nodding slightly as he turned again and continued on his journey.

Rex stood there for a moment longer, thinking about how idiotic he must have seemed, worrying over nothing. What must Cody think of him? He wondered sometimes.

Giving himself a firm shake, Rex set off again. The temple was not for people like him, and he didn’t want to pollute its air any longer.

It had only been a few minutes since Vokara Che had stared at Obi-wan with a critical eye, lips thinning unhappily, and declared him fit to leave the halls of healing. In those minutes, Obi-wan had practically jumped out of bed (and definitely not almost fallen over), Grabbed Cody’s hand, and raced off to see his kids. Behind him, Master Che shouted that he was to ‘mind his limits’ and ‘take care of his body and mind’ which he rather skillfully ignored.

Cody was quick to slow him down, ever the mother hen as he firmly insisted that Obi-wan was not to run so soon after being cleared. It had taken some convincing but, in the end, he had agreed with his commander that he did not want to be sent back to the halls and have master Che glare at him with a mixture of anger and disappointment. Really, Cody was terrifyingly persuasive when he wanted to be.

Still, he couldn’t keep the skip out of his step as he walked through the halls of the temple. He was officially off bed rest, which prevented Master Che from sedating and restraining him for taking so much as a single step. The halls were open and bright and full of the calm that Obi-wan had missed so much in the future (past?). People were walking here and there, initiates laughing at each other’s jokes and knights focusing on holopads. The warm feeling built in his chest, and he found himself forging forward again, dragging Cody behind him who was smiling with both adoration and resignation at Obi-wans insistence on rushing to the kids.

Eventually, they came to the door. He could feel them all inside, Anakin’s amusement at something and Feral’s quiet admiration that had never really faded. Obi-wan himself was suppressing his force presence, he wanted to surprise them. Cody squeezed his hand, and Obi-wan turned to smile at him. “Ready when you are, my dear.” He said, and Cody pushed the door open.

Immediately, everyone with in the room became alert, swiveling in his direction. Then, with a great cry of surprise they came rushing forward and Obi-wan was tackled by his gaggle of children. With an ‘oomph’ he stumbled backwards, catching Merrin as she launched herself at him, and kneeling down to allow her to hug him properly. She grabbed hold of his robes and burrowed her face in them. He laughed and rubbed her back as she clung to him tightly. Behind her came Ahsoka, Anakin, Feral, and Savage.

“I thought you were dead!” Merrin said angrily, face still pressed into his chest. “I thought I had lost you too and –“ She broke off into a sob and Obi-wan wrapped his arms around her, pushing a feeling of calm through the force bond that had begun to develop between them. He hadn’t meant to scare her, but it had been inevitable. The poor girl, Obi-wan could hardly imagine what that must have felt like, feeling her sister fade and then watching him faint at the same time.

(He didn’t have to imagine. He had lived it. He had known that fear intimately)

“I’m ok sweetheart, I just fine.” He said soothingly, stroking her hair. She hugged him tighter.

Anakin clasped his shoulder, mouth quirked up in a crooked smile. “Missed you master.” He said quite simply, but Obi-wan could feel the emotions that were running through him; relief, joy, and a hint of something else that Obi-wan couldn’t quite make out.

“I’m glad you’re okay.” Feral said quietly, almost too quiet for Obi-wan to hear. Beside him, Savage nodded seriously and Obi-wan could feel his heart melting. He had expected a welcome, maybe with some tears, but he hadn’t expected that the tears would come from him. What had he done to deserve such a family? What goodness had he done for the force to give him this?

He did not know, but he was grateful all the same.

“I missed you all too, very much so.” He said sincerely, and Ahsoka grinned.

“Yeah? Well considering you missed us so much; would you mind telling master Mundi that I wasn’t the one who put glitter in the showers?” She asked with the cheeky grin of hers that Obi-wan couldn’t help but laugh at. Always up for a bit of mischief, it seemed that Ahsoka was the same in every universe. He thought of the strong young woman she had become, the girl who had forged her own destiny and felt pride swell in his chest. He doubted that there was a man alive as lucky as he was.

He looked up at her and matched the crooked grin. “I’m sure I could put a good word in for you.”

She cackled and Anakin dragged her against his side, mockingly reproachful at her harmless prank. Ahsoka shoved him off, sticking her tongue out. How very mature, Obi-wan thought.

“Ahh fuh mmmh?” A voice said, and Obi-wan looked down at Merrin again who had mumbled inaudibly into his chest.

“What was that, sweetheart?” He asked, carding a hand through her hair.

She pulled back a bit and rubbed at her puffy eyes, wiping away the tears. “And for me?” she asked, sniffling a little and Obi-wan laughed. Of course Ahsoka had managed to recruit her for the glitter attack. In fact, Obi-wan wondered if it had been Merrin who had come up with the idea originally. He would have to keep a close eye on them in the future, but he didn’t have much hope. Capable as he was, Obi-wan wasn’t sure how he would manage to keep the troublesome pair out of mischeif when they seemed to create it wherever they went.

“Of course.” He said and made a mental note to speak with Master Mundi before he came knocking angrily on his door. There were many things Obi-wan could deal with, but that was not one of them.

“Let’s get you inside and settled.” Cody said, helping Obi-wan to his feet and glancing over him worriedly as if he was about to faint again. He really was one of the kindest people Obi-wan had ever met, caring in that gruff way of his that was ever so endearing. He smiled, and Cody smiled back.

From the corner of his eye, he caught Ahsoka glancing between them suspiciously. She seemed to decide something, and her posture relaxed, a glint coming into her eyes as she began smiling like a mad woman. Oh, not good.

Her grin widened as she sensed Obi-wans little panic. “I hope Cody has been taking care of you, Master Kenobi.” She said, snickering. Anakin looked at her oddly, entirely confused. Obi-wan had never bee so thankful that his padawan was about as observant as a brick.

He fought the blush that he knew was creeping up the side of his cheeks. “He has ensured my speedy recovery.” He said, very tempted to elbow Cody who was barely restraining his own laugh. Honestly, he couldn’t take them anywhere.

Thankfully, Merrin was quick to change to subject as she led him inside. “I’m going to be a healer!” She exclaimed, showing him the holopad Master Che had given her.

He looked through the texts that had enough medical jargon in them to put even the most vigilant of students to sleep. Merrin had kept tabs open on definitions and appeared to be routinely flicking back to them when she needed a reminder of what they meant. In the top corners of the pad he could make out words like ‘Hypertension’ and ‘zoonotic disease’ some of which he vaguely recognized but others he struggled to place from his very limited medical training. Most of his training in medicine had been entirely informal, he had practically been forced to learn on Melida/Daan and the clone wars had only increased the need for competent healers. Still, he remembered how difficult it was to learn. Merrin certainly was one tough little girl.

“That’s amazing sweetheart, you’re going to be fantastic.” He said softly, and her faced steeled in determination. She looked far older than she was then, and Obi-wan couldn’t help like feeling he was looking at a younger version of himself.

“I won’t be useless again, I promise.” She said, And Obi-wans heart broke for her.

He got down on his knees again and grasped her shoulders, forcing her to look him in the eye. “Oh Merrin, you were not useless. How could you even think that?” He asked quietly, wondering if he had said something to make her think as such. “You told me about Dres,” He continued as he saw her determination falter, “you saved her. And if you want to be a healer, then I am one hundred percent behind you and I know you’ll be amazing, but only if you want to be. You are perfect as you are, don’t believe anyone who says any different, not even yourself.”

Merrin looked as if she was on the edge of tears again, and she smiled shakily at him. “Thank you Obi-wan. But I want this. I want to help people.” She said, and her determination was back in full force.

Obi-wan stood up and handed her holopad back to her. “You better get studying then, Master Che is a hard woman to impress.”

The kids were happily playing a game of ‘catch the bowl’ that involved launching a bowl at someone and seeing if they could suspend it in the air with the force before it hit them in the face. So far, Savage had managed to give his brother one hell of a bash on the nose and Ahsoka had broken one of Obi-wans prized ceramics by dodging instead of catching it. He had watched it shatter on the floor and had laughed at Ahsoka’s perplexed expression. She looked as though she couldn’t quite believe the bowl would have the audacity to smash when slamming onto the tile. She had apologized profusely though and even offered to buy him a new one.

Cody was watching over them, occasionally interjecting a comment about safety or how best to angel your throw so it would be more aerodynamic. Anakin had decided not to play and after a few minutes of standing awkwardly to the side, he finally seemed to make up his mind about something. With a new purpose in mind, he walked over to the couch Obi-wan was sitting on and plonked himself down.

“Master, can I talk to you for a minute? Alone?” Anakin asked almost in a whisper, as if he didn’t want the others to know that they were going to have a private conversation. It seemed almost childish, as though they were whispering petty gossip to one another or exchanging secrets.

Obi-wan wasn’t about to let the opportunity pass, however. He needed to speak with Anakin alone as well, and what better time to do it than now. “Of course Anakin, I was actually hoping to catch a minute with you as well.” He said, and stood up quietly, beckoning his padawan to follow him.

Together, they slipped into the bedroom and closed the door, muffling the sound of excited laughter coming for the living room where a bowl was still being tossed into the air. Anakin sat down on the bed, looking stressed and confused. That was worrying. Clearly Anakin had been hiding his feelings from Obi-wan, he had not picked up on any of this stress from the bond.

He sat down beside Anakin, twisting to look at him. “What is it?” he asked as softly as he could, and Anakin grimaced.

“Well, it may be nothing. I don’t know,” he said, rubbing his neck slightly as he began to ramble anxiously, “I’m probably overreacting it’s not actually that important –“

“Anakin, Anakin, slow down.” He interrupted, putting his hand over Anakin’s in a soothing gesture. “If it is bothering you, which it clearly is, then it’s important. I want to help you Anakin.” He said, pushing his sincerity through the force in as clear a way as he could.

 Anakin sighed, rubbing a hand over his face. “It’s just – well, its chancellor Palpatine.” Obi-wan jolted, leaning forward to catch every word Anakin was saying. If it was about Palpatine, then it was nothing good. “I don’t know how to explain it, but he feels off.” Anakin explained.

Obi-wan frowned. As far as he was aware, Anakin had never said anything of the sort about chancellor Palpatine before. Even at the end of the war when the mans darkness started to become more obvious, Anakin had never shown any signs of sensing it. “Oh?”

Anakin nodded, seemingly lost in thought as he continued. “He tried to tell me – well, I mean he always tries to tell me – that you’re holding me back, he really doesn’t seem to like you.” He grinned ironically, but Obi-wan couldn’t return it. He began to worry about what Palpatine knew about him. Was it possible he had found out about the alternate future? Surely not. He would have acted by now if that was the case. “And he felt weird, almost empty.” Anakin finished, shaking his head as though that would banish his confusion and conflicting emotions.

Obi-wan was frozen to the spot. Anakin was coming to him about his suspicions. He was confiding in him the doubt that he had for Palpatine, and that was something that Obi-wan had only ever dreamed about. Until this very moment he had resigned himself to Anakin’s shock, his fury and his denial at what Palpatine was. Who Palpatine was. But maybe he had been wrong. If Anakin was talking to him like this, then maybe there was hope.

Hope; it seemed to be everywhere he looked. The force had given them hope beyond measure and every time Obi-wan thought it was running out, the people around him made more.

Obi-wan made up his mind. His padawan had to be told, he owed him that much. Taking a deep breath in, he looked down over the perilous cliffside he was about to throw himself into and took a leap of faith. “Anakin, there is something I need to tell you. Only, I’m not sure how.”

His padawans gaze flickered up to him immediately, intent and suspicious. “You know something about this?” He asked, and Obi-wan could not help but feel as though he had betrayed him by not telling him sooner.

“Yes.” He said, and sighed, trying to think of the best way to explain this. “Mother Talzin – enlightened us. I had been meaning to tell you, but I was afraid of how you would react. And then Dres and – well.” He trailed off, unwilling to try and excuse his oversight and bad judgement.

Anakin grasped his hand. “Master, you’re worrying me.” His eyes were searching as they bore into Obi-wan’s “What is it? It can’t be that bad.” He joked, and his true words came clear through the bond. We’ve survived worse.

No, Obi-wan thought. No you have not. (But I have, he added. I have seen that and more.)

He hesitated only a moment longer before finally finding something to say. “Anakin, please do not get mad when I tell you this. Please, just listen to me. Can you promise me that?” he asked, and the desperation in his voice was evident even to his own ears.

Anakin's gaze only grew more concerned. “Master, of course.” He said, tone almost disbelieving. “You shouldn’t even have to ask, of course I will.”

Obi-wan took a breath. This was one of the moments he had been dreading, one of the turning points in his plan. Whether Anakin would accept this or not, it would influence everything. If this conversation went badly, then that could be it over. All of it. This second chance would have bee for nothing, and he would have failed once again.

“We have – we have found evidence.” He said slowly, forcing the words out of his mouth. “It points to chancellor Palpatine being –“ He stopped. He couldn’t do this. He couldn’t – he couldn’t. All Obi-wan could see was Mustafar, the lava pools and the stench of burning flesh filling his nostrils. There was water in his eyes and he was on the verge of throwing up. Across, from him, his brother told him ‘I hate you’ and all Obi-wan could think was ‘I love you.’ Even after everything.

Yes, even after everything. Obi-wan had to have hope, had to have love, even after everything.

“Obi-wan?” Anakin cut through his panicked thoughts, and he took the moment to steady himself.

“Anakin. It’s him. It’s always been him. Darth Sidious was right under our noses, and we didn’t even realize it.” Obi-wan said miserably, on the verge of tears. They were not of sorrow, not exactly. More they were of fear, fear of what was to come.

Anakin’s face contorted in rage. Familiar anger blazed through the force and Obi-wan curled in on himself. This was what he was expecting. Anakin would shout at him now, would tell him of how wrong he was, how he was trying to turn him against the chancellor. It was what he had expected, but it did not hurt any less.

Vaguely, he was aware of himself shaking.

“Anakin, you promised.” His voice sounded desperate and panicked and pathetic. “You promised me, you Promised.”

And he had. Anakin had promised that he would hear him out, that he would listen. It didn’t matter. The anger was there, and there was nothing Obi-wan could do or say to stop its flood. Anakin would get mad, and that would be that.

“It makes sense.” His padawan said.

“Yes – wait what?”

Obi-wan turned suddenly, but Anakin was staring straight ahead, eyes locked to the door of the bedroom. Now that he was paying attention, Obi-wan could see the slight tremor in his limbs.

“it makes sense.” Anakin said again, conviction and panic battling for control over his tone. He seemed as though he was seeing the world for the first time, as if some fog had suddenly cleared and now he could see in entirety. “I don’t know how I missed it before but – oh god Obi-wan you’re right.” Anakin was hyperventilating now, words spilling faster from his mouth as panic gave way to genuine fear. “He always spoke down on the order, he tried to get me to lose trust in it. And that day, when he felt weird, it wasn’t just weirdness it was darkness. Oh force how did I miss it.”

Anakin looked as though he was about to be sick, grasping the cover of the bed in a white knuckled grip. Obi-wan knew the feeling. That horrid moment of clarity when everything made sense too late, it was something he was intimately familiar with. He placed a hand on his padawans shoulder, trying to shake him out of his episode. “Anakin, It’s not your fault. We all missed it,” he said, and he thought of the first time around. He had missed it then, and it had been too late when he had finally realized, “without Talzin we may have never found out. But we know now.”

Anakin nodded, but he was still shaking. Fear ran through the force, sharp waves spiking outwards at random intervals as his padawan grappled for control over his emotions that continually seemed to slide away from him. Obi-wan let him calm down for a minute, pushing a false feeling of tranquility back through the bond. It wasn’t much, but it was all he could do for now.

Anakin seemed to catch his breath again and turned to look directly at Obi-wan. His eyes were glistening and it looked as though he was about to burst into tears at a moment’s notice. “Is there, I mean, we’re going to stop him right?“ He said, and he sounded so painfully young, so unsure of himself and of the world.

“Of course we are.” Obi-wan reassured, drawing his padawan into his side in what he hoped was a comforting embrace. Desperately, he tried to think of a way to banish the fears from his brothers mind. There was something he could try, but it would be a slight – bending of the councils rules. But that didn’t matter. All that mattered at the moment was the way Anakin leant back into him, seeking any form of comfort he could find. “I am not supposed to be telling you, or anyone this really, but the council has a plan of sorts. There is no need to worry.” He said gently, and Anakin relaxed slightly.

“Can I help?” He asked, and Obi-wan softened. Oh Anakin, always wanting to help. Honestly, his heart was too big for his body. Selfishly, Obi-wan wanted to keep him away from it all. He couldn’t bear the thought of Anakin being hurt, of Sidious laying a single finger on him. Worse, he didn’t want to risk the allure of the dark side.

No. Anakin wouldn’t turn. Not again. Not this time.

“If there is anything you can do, I will let you know.” He said, and Anakin nodded.

“Okay, okay. Thank you master. I appreciate it.” He smiled up at him and Obi-wan smiled back. They sat like that for a moment longer, Anakin leaning into his side and Obi-wan holding him tightly as if it was the last time he would get the chance. Then, without warning, Anakin pulled back. He sniffled a little, then smiled. “What was it you were going to say?” He asked, and Obi-wan blinked.

“What?”

Anakin laughed, punching him softly in the arm. “You were going to tell me something, remember old man?”

Obi-wan grumbled. He wasn’t an old man, or at least not yet he wasn’t. In fact, as it was he could hardly be over 35. What year was it again? Really, all of the time shenanigans made it hard to keep track. He was young enough still, and that led him on to what he had been wanting to speak to Anakin about. Obi-wan was hardly an old man, and he had plenty of time left to serve the order. Even outside of war times, it was incredibly rare for a jedi master to have only one padawan throughout their life and now –

Well. Obi-wan knew for certain that there were more young ones than there were masters, he would need to take on someone else at some point or another. So, if this fact was inevitable, why not make use of it? Feral and Savage would need a master, and Obi-wan was more than happy to step in.

The council would disapprove, of course. They always did. However, Plo Koon would likely agree to Obi-wan’s scheme and if all went to plan would end up taking Savage as a padawan, though Obi-wan was well aware he may need to pull out the negotiator to assure such an outcome. Plo Koon was an excellent master and he was sure that Savage would flourish under his guidance. And as for himself, there was the matter of Feral. Having trained one ‘too old’ already, Obi-wan was hoping the council would listen to his recommendations. Feral and Savage deserved to be trained, if that was something that they wanted. And if it was something they wanted then by the force Obi-wan would do everything within his power to give them that chance.

But then there was Anakin. Anakin who was insecure, Anakin who worried about how much he meant to Obi-wan, Anakin who had become Vader.

Obi-wan, either selfishly or otherwise, needed his padawans approval. Deep down, he needed to know that Anakin knew he wasn’t being replaced.

“I wanted to talk with you about the possibility of me taking Feral on as a padawan.” He said, and Anakin stared at him blankly. Sensing no anger or hurt, only confusion, Obi-wan pushed on before he could change his mind. “I have been thinking about it for quite some time now, the council is more likely to let me take him on because of my experience in training you, considering you were too old as Feral is.” He explained, and Anakin frowned. Again, there was no anger or hurt, nothing of the sort. Instead, there was still that innocent confusion that wavered in the force like fog.

“Master,” he started, voice questioning and slow, “why are you checking with me? It’s your decision.”

Obi-wan looked down. Yes, it was his decision. Or at least it should be his decision. As a master, he should not be putting this on the shoulders of his padawan, but he had to be sure. “I just – I wanted to make sure you knew that I wasn’t replacing you.” He explained quietly, not looking at Anakin. “That you are still my padawan and you always will be, nothing is going to change that.”

It was true. Nothing in the world could change how Obi-wan felt about Anakin, his padawan, his brother, in many ways his son. Even in the end, even after everything, Obi-wan had still loved him. Selfish and backwards as that might seem, Obi-wan Kenobi had still loved his fallen brother.

“Obi-wan, you’re gonna make me cry.”  Anakin said teasingly, knocking his shoulder against him. Obi-wan huffed and reached out a hand to ruffle his hair. Quickly, Anakin ducked out of it, shoving Obi-wans outstretched hand away lightly. Then he smiled in a quiet sort of way, and it was so different from the bright, blinding smiles he often gave. But it was no less sincere, and no less heart-warming to behold.  “I know you aren’t replacing me, Obi-wan.” He said. “Feral deserves a master as good as you.”

Obi-wan most certainly was not tearing up. Not at all. In fact, he had quite suddenly gotten a piece of dust in his eyes that was causing them to water. Allergies, he thought. Yes, he always got teary in this season when all of that – particle… stuff was in the air.

“Thank you, my padawan.” He said, bowing in the way he did after each of their sparring matches.

Anakin smiled and bowed back awkwardly. It was rather difficult with both of them still sitting down beside each other. His smile wasn’t the quiet one anymore. It was the cocky, teasingly mischievous one that Obi-wan had come to love and fear in equal measures. “There is no need to thank me, my master.”

Chapter Text

"The swiftest path to destruction is through vengeance." - Season 3, Episode 12

There were thirty-six panels on the ceiling of this particular room in the clone barracks, thirty-eight if you counted the little half ones that connected to the wall. Each panel was smooth and grey, unblemished by time or any rough housing from the clones. Duster knew this because he had been staring at them repeatedly for the last few minutes. It helped pass the awkward silence in the room, the one that stretched the seconds into hours and had his face flushing red. Thirty-six, he thought to himself, then stared at the little half ones again. To count them or ignore them, that was the question. Although the room was empty save for the two of them, Duster had never felt so trapped.

His battalion had just gotten back from the field and General Krell was recuperating at the temple. Technically speaking, the clones weren’t allowed anything resembling a break under Krell’s command, but the battalion was seizing this unofficial one with both hands. Duster had been planning on doing just that, heading off to 79’s or catching up with the coruscant guard, until he had been backed into a corner by the most feared clone in all of the battalions. Looking up into the face of terror, Duster smiled at Cody, trying to keep the tremor out of his hands. It was a skill that he had gotten remarkably good at after so much practice. Sometimes he found it funny, the way he could almost turn into a statue at a moment’s notice, like an animal playing dead. Fighting back had never worked out for Duster and it was always easier to play dead when it came to General Krell because that was exactly what he thought a clone should be – dead.

This strategy, however, did not seem to be working on Cody.

His brother’s brow was furrowed, though whether this was in extreme concentration or extreme disappointment was not clear. Every few seconds his eyes would skitter to the sides and then refocus. He seemed to be looking for something, though what this was Duster could not know. So, he stood there quietly, waiting for some sort of reprimand. In all honesty, he had not even the slightest clue as to why Cody had cornered him like this, and he had – cornered him that is. It had been rather impressive actually, the way his Vod had swept through the barracks and managed to lure him into an empty room. If Duster hadn’t been so terrified, he may have even been inspired to use this trick on some of the more boisterous shinies.

(The ones who didn’t make it past the first battle. The ones who didn’t know what the General was like yet. The ones who would never learn.)

Deciding that nothing good would come of simply standing there dumbly, Duster opened his mouth to say something. Then closed it again quite promptly. He was not sure what to say, nor how to say it. Cody was known for his gruffness and his efficiency, and Duster did not want to risk him reporting any bad behavior to Krell, unknowing of what that would cost him. So, he would be polite. He would be respectful and if he accidently offended this man, who held more power than he was aware of, then Duster would have no choice but to quite literally beg his forgiveness.

Just as he was preparing himself for another attempt at breaking the silence, Cody did it for him. “I had a very interesting conversation with a mutual friend of ours earlier.” His Vod said, and Duster gulped, clamping down on his jaw as he tried to stop it quivering. That did no sound good. A mutual friend? He tried to think of who that might be.

“Oh?” he said, and he cringed at how choked it sounded. Cody nodded, bringing his arms back behind his chest and standing to attention, a thing that most of the clones did out of habit.

“Rex had some very – concerning information to impart on me.” The commander of the 212^th finished, and Duster could feel his heart sinking to the bottom of his gut. Rex, one of his closest friends, had told Cody something concerning about him. The knowledge that this could quite literally be his last day alive was overshadowed by the sting of that betrayal. Rex had been someone to confide in, someone to talk to about the helmets of shinies that piled up on the battlefield. And now he had said something against him to Cody. To the goddamn high commander. Whether he knew it or not, the captain had just sealed Duster’s fate.

“I am afraid I don’t know what you mean.” Duster said, wracking his brain for any behavior of his that could have been construed as offensive. He knew, however, this was most likely about the comments he’d made to Rex. His reports had certainly not portrayed Krell in a favorable light, and even a crime as small as that could get a clone sent out on a suicide mission under the General. “If I have acted in an unsuitable way, I will certainly do my best to make up for it.” He added on quickly, hoping for a small second that Cody would deal with the issue privately instead of going to the General. It was not a hope he put much faith in.

“You miss understand me, commander.” Cody said, huffing in a way that was too ironic to be in good humor. “The fault is not with you, but with your General.”

Duster’s brain shorted out for a second. Every thought in his head decided quite of its own accord to turn to mush and all that he managed to force out of his mouth in response to this was a strangled ‘what?’ that he would have been embarrassed by if his braincells had managed to stop going haywire and actually form a coherent thought.

Cody looked irritated, but also sympathetic. The combination was a strange one, but it looked strangely natural on the face of the commander. “Look,” he said, and Duster scrabbled to get himself together and listen, “I know you are afraid to speak against him but General Kenobi would be more than happy to –“

“Are you mad!?” The words were out of his mouth before he could stop them. It was instinct, pure and simple. No one could speak against the General, not if they valued their lives. Even here, in an empty room in the clone barracks, it wasn’t safe to make such comments. If you made them in private, soon you would make them quietly in public. And then one day you would slip up. The General would overhear, and you would be placed on the frontlines of a doomed frontal assault. Everyone would remark on what a shame it was, knowing full well that it was no accident you ended up there.

Cody looked scandalized at his outburst, and Duster hurried to apologies for his interruption. “Sorry, sorry, but you cannot be serious. If Krell found out about my part in this – “ he cut off and glanced nervously around the room, as though the General might pop out of the shadows at any point. He didn’t even want to think about what Krell would do to him if this conversation reached his ears. Talking about him badly in private was a death sentence, but to say such things to another jedi general? It was unthinkable “– it would not just be me who suffered.” He finished, looking meaningfully at Cody and hoping the message got across.

Cody looked – actually, Duster wasn’t sure how Cody looked. The commander seemed to be flitting quickly between three different emotions, anger, sorrow, and frustration. Each of these seemed to be battling for control of his expressions. His mouth was set in a grim, angry line that would sometimes lift into a frustrated snarl, then settle back into a grieved frown. This shift was disconcerting, and Duster tried very hard to make a note of all of these expressions, hoping they would give him some insight into what the Commander was thinking.

Eventually, Cody’s face seemed to settle itself into a calm mask of boiling anger and righteousness. “What he is doing to your battalion is not right.” He said slowly, annunciating each word carefully as though Duster might misunderstand them.

He scoffed. Did Cody think he did not know that? Did he think Duster was unaware that being sent on suicide missions was wrong, did not know that being denied rations for the smallest mistakes was wrong? Of course he bloody well knew that. Every goddamn day he woke up and was reminded of it. Every time he saw a shiny disappear from the mess, every time their rations were confiscated as a punishment, every time Krell refused to call them by their chosen names, Duster was reminded of that fact. And each time, his anger grew. Just a little. The droplets collected in a well in his chest until it felt as though he was about to burst. The words formed in his mind, words that he wanted to shout and scream at the General.

But fear kept them at bay, just as it kept him at bay now. He could not say any of this to Cody, not if he valued his life. So, he took a deep breath, clenched his fists, and looked straight ahead. “Maybe, but it is not illegal either. There is nothing that can be done.” He said, and it was true. What Krell was doing was perfectly okay and completely legal under republic law, and nothing could be done to change that.

It seemed Cody had other thoughts. “Actually, there can be.” He said, smiling tightly.

Duster could feel the frustration clawing at the back of his throat. If there was a way to get rid of Krell, Duster would have found it by now. “Enlighten me.” He said, and this time he didn’t bother to keep the disrespect out of his tone.

“His casualty rates, paired with a testament from you and some others from your battalion would be enough to prove he was sabotaging missions,” Cody said, expertly ignoring the way Duster rolled his eyes and scoffed, “and therefore is guilty of treason against the republic.”

“It would never work.” He said shortly. Honestly, what was Cody thinking? Oh yes, he would just go to the Jedi and they would listen, they would make it all perfect. As if it wasn’t a jedi who was currently murdering his brothers in the field and ensuring their subservience.

“Why not?” Cody asked, though it was more of a challenge than a genuine question.

“Who’s going to listen to us clones? The republic? The Jedi? Wake up Vod.” Duster said as calmly as he could, but the urge to shout was growing again, like a balloon that was getting ready to pop.

“Kenobi would – “

“Do what?” He interrupted angrily. “What has he done all of this time whilst we were dying?” Duster looked around dramatically. “Do you see him here helping us?”

That seemed to have struck a nerve. Cody’s jaw tightened almost imperceptibly, and his face turned a light red. Immediately, Duster wanted to back track out of what he had just gotten into. That was, however, impossible at this point. So, he stood there staring resolutely, almost challengingly, at the high commander.

“For your information,” Cody began through clenched teeth, “he has been working with Senator Organa and Senator Amidala to push a clone rights bill.”

In all fairness, Duster hadn’t known about that. Still, this new information didn’t stop him from shooting something back in Cody’s face. “And how’s that going?”

It was the last straw and they both knew it. Duster had crossed the line; he had pushed too far. He squeezed his eyes shut, waiting for the commander’s judgement. Krell would know about this within the hour, and then it would be Duster’s helmet lying empty on the floor of the latest battlefield.

After a long pause, Cody finally spoke again. “It would go better if we managed to prove Krell’s mistreatment.” Duster opened his eyes. Cody looked just as lost as he felt, and a sense of shame stole through him. The Vode survived by sticking together, not by falling apart.  “You don’t have to decide now,” Cody continued, and he seemed to have given up on something, “think about it.”

He turned to leave then, shaking his head slightly, then paused. “But Duster, don’t wait too long.” He added, refusing to turn back around and face him “Don’t wait until it’s too late.”

Then he was walking towards the door and Duster’s brain was moving at a million miles a minute as he tried to find a way to express the things swirling around in his mind. Cody was right, he knew. This could not go on. If it did, there was no telling when it would end. Something had to be done.

“Cody.” He said, and the commander stopped. “I’ll do it.” His brother was still stood facing the door, not moving. Ignoring him. “Cody, I said I’d do it, okay?”

Slowly, his brother turned around. Those clever eyes took in every point of Duster’s face, searching for something. Whatever it was he was searching for, Cody seemed to find it. He smiled at Duster, widely with too many teeth and not enough happiness.

“Excellent.” Cody said, and still his grin was all teeth and viciousness. “Now, I have someone I’d like you to meet.”

There were little differences between the living quarters of the jedi within the temple, save for the size of master-padawan dorms compared to those of a knight or a master living by themselves. Each room had the same furniture, roughly the same layout, and the same open feeling, the kind that one got on a Sunday morning over a steaming cup of tea. Plo Koon’s room seemed to take this feeling and amplify it beyond belief. Obi-wan had never been sure why this was the case, considering the standardization of the rooms. Perhaps it was the way it was decorated with overflowing bookshelves and low coffee tables covered in flowering plants, or perhaps it was simply the way Plo always seemed to exude this very feeling through the force.

Sitting across from Obi-wan on one of the low stools, that was exactly what his force presence was doing. It had always been one of the more interesting ones in Obi-wan’s opinion. When he reached out and focused, truly focused, it put him in mind of a fire gently crackling away, warm and fulfilling when treated right, but capable of burning up into a blaze if one wasn’t careful. Obi-wan had never seen Plo Koon fly into a blaze of that kind, but he imagined it would be quite the sight.

Stirring his tea gently, he looked over at his friend. It was good to see him again, especially after – after everything. The jedi were his friends, but they were also his family and he had missed them in the future like he would miss the sun. Unfortunately, this meeting was not solely for companies’ sake and Obi-wan was trying to find a way to pluck up the courage and ask for his friends help.

Before he could, Plo spoke in that gentle rumbling way he had. “You have been different lately, my friend.” He said, and Obi-wan sighed. There had been no chance that someone as powerful in the force as Plo would miss the changes in him. Over the course of the past few weeks, he had become increasingly aware of this fact.

Fortunately, he had a good alibi for his sudden changes. War changed even the most stubborn of people, and it had certainly changed him the last time he lived through it. “As have we all, Plo. “ Obi-wan said, then took a sip of his tea. It was Ginseng and the earthy, slightly bitter taste helped to ground him in the way it always did.

Plo nodded, staring sideways out the window at the city that stretched before them. Lights were flashing here and there, billboards lighting up with sparkly letters and traffic lights switching between their colors. Every now and again a horn would honk, or someone would lean out of their window to shout at another pilot, breaking the relative silence of the evening. “Perhaps.” Plo said absently, still facing the window. They sat for a moment in silence before Plo spoke again. “How is little Soka?”

Obi-wan felt himself smile. Plo had always carried a soft spot for Ahsoka, the same way he himself had. It was nice, knowing how many people were there to look out for her. If she ever found herself in trouble, serious trouble instead of the kind she regularly worked her way into, he would not be alone in trying to help.

 And as for how she was doing – well. Master Mundi had certainly given him an earful when Obi-wan had gone to apologise for her actions. “As boisterous as ever.” He said, huffing out a laugh as the image of her head poking out of the door to check whether the danger of Ki-Adi-Mundi had gone yet jumped into his mind. “Putting her and Merrin in the same room together was not one of my best ideas. Force knows master Mundi is suffering for it.” He laughed again at this, not feeling particularly sad for the other master misfortunes. Plo chuckled as well, deep and rumbling like the purring of a cat.

Outside the window, a pilot sped past with their music blaring. The song was vaguely familiar, and for a minute it seemed to fill the small confines of the room. Seconds passed in that relative silence that wasn’t quite silent. The comfortable quietness that hung between them settled into the atmosphere, calming Obi-wans nerves a little.

“What have you come to ask me, Obi-wan?” Plo asked. He had known as well as him that there was an ulterior motive for this visit.

Obi-wan smiled tightly, aware of the burden he was about to place on the Kel Dor’s shoulders. “Too much, I fear.”

Plo laughed, shaking his head. Leaning forward in his chair, he linked his hands together in front of him. The position was so similar to that of an attentive father that Obi-wan very nearly laughed. “I will help however I can.” The man said sincerely, and Obi-wan swallowed. He hated this, hated feeling as though he was taking advantage of his friendship. But he had a duty and an obligation to those boys.

So, he steeled himself and began to explain. “I brought two boys back from Dathomir with me, as I’m sure you know.” Plo nodded, relaxing back into his chair and gesturing for him to continue. “You will also be aware of how the council reacted to this and I have no doubt that most of them are counting down the days until I send them away.” He chuckled ironically here, imagining Eeth Koth pacing outside the dorms and listening in to check if the two were gone yet. Plo nodded, and Obi-wan took a deep breath. “I want to ask Feral to be my padawan.” He said slowly and carefully, making sure he was understood.

Plo nodded, bringing a hand up to stroke his chin in an action that Obi-wan often found himself imitating. “The council will not approve, but in this you shall have my support.” He said, and Obi-wan sighed. Regardless of how his next ask would go, at least Plo would stand with him in this regard. The Kel Dor shifted, face pinching together in thought. “Though, what of the other brother?” he asked.

Obi-wan winced. “I fear this is where I may begin to overstep.” He said, grinning in a way that probably appeared a strange mix of anxiousness and sheepishness. “I had hoped you would consider taking him on as your padawan.” He said. Once the words had left his mouth, he became very suddenly aware of how big they were. What he was asking of Plo was far beyond what he was entitled to. A line had been crossed, and Obi-wan could not help but try to explain himself. “I know it is a lot to ask and I don’t expect an answer immediately but he deserves a chance Plo and I –“

“Obi-wan, my friend,” Plo interrupted, waving a hand at him to settle down and smiling gently. “I would be more than happy to take the boy on, if that was something he desired.”

Obi-wan breathed in deeply. That was all he had wanted to hear, and he knew there would be no way to express his gratitude to Plo. Because of him, Savage would have a future with his brother. They would not be separated; they could grow up together out of the shadows of the Sith.

“So, you’ll speak to him about it?” He asked earnestly, and Plo nodded.

“Of course. We may, however, need to recruit some of the council to our side if we want this to be accepted.” He said, and Obi-wan agreed. If the two of them barged into the council chambers demanding to train these two Dathomirian boys, they would be shot down quicker than a freighter in a dog fight.

“Yes, of course.” Obi-wan had already put some thought into this situation and was keen to get his friends opinion. “With your permission, I would like to speak with Kit, Shaak, Depa, and Adi Gallia. If they agreed, we would only need one more vote to be in the majority.” He said. If they managed to get those four on their side, he was certain at least one more would fall into line. Depa would certainly be more than willing to bully Mace into agreeing.

Plo Koon smiled, clearly thinking the exact same thing. “I am sure they will be more than happy to offer their services, especially after all you have done for our order.” He said, and Obi-wan felt his cheeks redden with embarrassment and shame.

All he had done for the order.

And what had he done? The first time round he had doomed them all to the fate that befell them, he had failed them all. Obi-wan knew he did not deserve anything more than their contempt for his selfishness, making choices by himself knowing how they would affect the people around him.

He ducked his head in an almost bow. “You do me too much kindness.” He could not meet Plo’s gaze.

“No,” said Plo, “you do yourself too much disservice.”

Obi-wan laughed. It was not the first time someone had said that to him. Well, not that exactly but the message was the same. In fact, it was something he heard quite regularly. Whether he agreed with the statement, he was not sure. Still, a wave of fondness washed through him at the care Plo held for all. If there was anyone who could bring Savage out of the cautious shell he inhabited, Obi-wan knew it was him.

“Well, I cannot begin to thank you enough.” He said, already wondering how many people he would owe unpayable debts to. Everyone around him, it would seem. Force, if he kept at this rate perhaps everyone on coruscant. Except for Sidious of course, but that was a given.

“There is no need.” Plo said kindly, standing as Obi-wan did and walking him over to the door.

He smiled, and Obi-wan suddenly felt the need to grasp his shoulder, to shake his hand, to do something that would try to explain how grateful he felt, to try and get across the care he felt for his friend. Before he could, however, a knock on the door interrupted them both.

Plo Koon stepped forward, opening the door to reveal two men dressed in white armor. Clones. One of which was a very familiar clone, one that Obi-wan would know blind and deaf purely by the way his force presence connected with his own.

“Cody?” He said, and he could feel the smile that was making its way onto his face. “And who is this?” He asked, turning to face the other clone who was radiating a sense of apprehension that stifled the openness of the room. Obi-wan tried to smile as kindly as he could, hoping to put the poor man at ease.

“Duster, Sir.” The clone – Duster said, stiff and formal in the way most clones were with jedi they did not know.

Obi-wan looked to Cody for an explanation. His dear commander had known of Obi-wans visit to Plo Koon and of its importance, he would not have interrupted unless something was very seriously wrong.

“General Kenobi,” Cody said formally, and Obi-wan was vaguely disconcerted at how strange it was to hear Cody call him that again, though it made perfect sense with the presence of Plo Koon and Duster “we are here to report the concerning actions of General Krell.”

Obi-wan froze. General Krell. Pong Krell. Oh force.

His mind flashed to Umbara, to the carnage that had followed. He thought of Boil, smiling at him as Numa poked her head around his calf. He thought of the helmet with her face painted on it lying on the ground, splattered with blood. It could not have already happened, a tragedy of that level. No, nothing like that could have happened again. But a thousand smaller ones could have. Hundreds of small atrocities committed against the clones, atrocities that Obi-wan had allowed to continue. He had known of krell’s hatred, and yet he had hoped, naively it would seem, that it could be changed, as everything else seemed to be changing.

Plo Koon frowned, concerned and confused. He gestured at the clones to come in.  “I think you best come inside.” He said, smiling at Duster as the clone tensed, apprehension changing to outright fear. “Come, my friends.” He said gently, and this time the clones obeyed, coming to stand awkwardly in the center of the room. Plo gestured at the chairs. “Sit. Tell us what you have to say.”

There was no light; none at all. The sun was no longer shining but wilting under the pressure of the sky, the fires in hearths burned cold and even the faint blue glow of his lightsabers seemed to radiate a maliciousness as opposed to the comfort it once provided. Around him there was only the deep, unknowing blackness that haunted his every step. It whispered to him; it sung to him. Listening closely, straining his ears, he tried to listen to what it was telling him. Understanding came slowly, but when it did it was not in words. No, the dark showed its meanings in twisted reflections. A haunting glow spread across the moon, shadows warping on street corners, the rise and fall of candles as they breathed – he saw the truth in them all. And always in the dark, the inky blackness that had become his world.

In it, he saw the images of white helmets reflected across spatters of blood. In it, he saw an army marching on the temple. In it, he saw the scum called ‘clones’ obeying the orders of their masters.

There was no light, but he knew now that light wouldn’t save them. There could only be the dark, the sweet lull of its anger, the gentle croon of it promising revenge. Revenge that Krell would know soon enough.

Already, he could feel his convictions growing stronger. Every sniveling response those ants gave him, each time they cowered beneath his instruction, every traitorous thought they whispered to each other when they thought he wasn’t listening, all of it convinced him of what he must do. And always, the dark was there to praise him. Krell could hear it all of the time, a quiet whisper in the back of his mind. It replaced the comfort of the jedi code with its own sort of warmth. The kind of warmth that flares to a burn, and then back to the coldness of the grave.

The temple was louder now than ever before. It was loud in the quiet sort of way where every noise rings in your ears, no matter how small. Months of battlefields and hyperspace had turned it into a shrieking hell where even the sound of ones breathing reached Krell from his isolated rooms. There was no thrumming engine, no bloodlust to focus the mind, no gunfire to steady the senses. Sitting alone on his bed, Krell could hear the silence in the halls that sounded increasingly like screaming. Each room was filled with the blinding light that he once held in such high regard, light that was not so much real as it was an illusion the jedi chose to believe. He no longer believed in it, he refused to believe in such meaningless lies. Instead, he sat there in the dark of his room, plotting and scheming and hating.

The only solace he found was in the shadows. There, he could see things as clear as day. It was as if some curtain had been pulled away and he could see for the first time. He wondered if this was what Dooku had seen. Krell had been thinking about it more and more as time passed. The former Jedi had – reached out to him, in a manner of speaking, and Krell had found himself intrigued.

Now, he understood the man better than he ever had. To sit quietly in the temple, aware of the fate that was to befall them, knowing the Jedi’s complacency in their own defeat, it was the most pitiful type of torture he could imagine. It had been the deciding factor, the decision maker in Krell’s ideas.

It was clear to him now that the jedi were too weak to prevent the betrayal of the clones – but the Sith were not. With Dooku on his side, they would wipe out the republic’s army together. The force would reign supreme and those lab rats who sought to infiltrate its midst would be exterminated, as they should have been long ago.

And then there was a knock at the door.

Krell frowned, straining his sense, reaching out with the force to peer behind the wall of durasteel. There, he found nothing. There was no sign of life, not even the slightest hint of it. The force was quiet, unassuming, and unwilling to provide him with the information he sought. Such things would not usually surprise Krell, but this knock unnerved him. Perhaps it was the way the darkness recoiled around him that provoked such a reaction, hissing in anger and fear as the shadows retreated up the walls. Or maybe it was the way the voice in his head became louder, screaming at him that danger was near. Whatever it was, he grasped his lightsabers. Just in case.

He did not open the door.

Again, the knock came, louder this time, more insistent. Again, the shadows writhed, scattering themselves as they skittered up the wall as far as they could. Krell reached out again, only to find emptiness once more.

He stood. He would not be intimidated in his own rooms, especially not by what was likely some padawan with a presence too small to sense playing tricks on him. Marching over to the door, he pulled it open forcefully, determined to prove to himself that his fear was meaningless.

As it happened, there was someone outside after all, though it was certainly not a padawan, nor someone weak in the force. On the contrary, Krell knew for a fact that this man was very, very powerful and that this visit could mean something very, very bad.

Krell ground his teeth as he looked down at the man wrapped in a brown cloak, smiling cheerfully at him. He bowed shortly at the waist, not deep enough to truly be respectful but not shallow enough to be insulting.

“Master Koon.” He said. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

The Kel Dor smiled beneath his mask, eyes crinkling in a way that was too unkind to be genuine. His presence was entirely hidden and, try as he might, Krell could discern nothing about the man’s emotions or intents. His reasons for being here at Krell’s door were entirely obscured.

“Well, Pong Krell.” Plo Koon began, reaching a hand into his robes. “On the order of the Jedi Council, you are being detained under suspicion of high treason against the order and the republic.”

Krell drew back, grasping his lightsabers. They couldn’t know. This had to be fake, some kind of dream or hallucination. He had been so careful, so quiet in his revenge. And yet here the others were, the jedi too weak to realize what was being done to them.

He snarled, moving to activate his lightsabers. Just as he reached to do this, however, there was a flash of yellow light. There was just enough time for Krell to realise what Plo Koon had done before he fell back into that darkness.

Electric judgement always had been the Kel Dor’s trump card.

Chapter Text

"Only through fire is a strong sword forged" - Season 4, Episode 2

No windows graced the walls of the court, making the room feel small in spite of the thick metal panels that climbed up around them, reaching into what seemed to be endless sky. Though of course, there was no sky visible. Only the grey roof – far, far above them. Each wall was decorated with dramatic white lights that slotted into grooves, throwing the courtroom, that was otherwise shrouded in darkness, into an almost theatrical glow. The white lights and grey walls seemed to leach the world of its colour, making an old movie of the scene before them.

From up in his chair among the other members of the council, Obi-wan watched the temple guards march Krell down one of the metal catwalks and onto the main platform. All four of the Besalisk’s arms were bound in force suppressors, and there were additional clone guards on either side of the courtroom. Everyone was on edge, cautious of this fallen Jedi who had killed so many on the battlefields. The clone escorts particularly were keeping a keen eye out. Krell had managed to kill three of his guards whilst being held. They were careful not to make the same mistake again.

A dark, malicious feeling crept over Obi-wan. It was not so much a real feeling, but one that he imagined with a striking clarity. The anger and hatred were familiar to him, the curl of them, the way they leapt around each other and gnawed at the mind. He had felt them before, around Anakin, around Maul, and now around himself. Though he tried to keep his emotions in check, Obi-wan felt this very gnawing as Senator Palpatine took his seat at the head of the court.

At his sides he clenched and unclenched his hands. He missed his lightsabre. Republic policy had prevented him from bringing it into the courtroom, and he had known better than to tempt himself anyways. If a weapon had been in his hand, Obi-wan was not certain he could have prevented his body from leaping at the man. So, he had left it behind, aware that he had to play cluelessness if Sidious was to be defeated. But knowing that did not make it any easier.

The metal platform that held Krell began to move, bringing him to stand right beneath Sidious’s pedestal. There were two catwalks that branched off towards Krell, though they did not quite reach the circular disk on which he stood, and across them came two very familiar faces. On the right, Duster and Padme, the Prosecutor and witness. On the left, Grand Moth Tarkin, the defence.

The scene seemed to shift before his eyes. There was Ahsoka, betrayed and vulnerable. There was Padme, standing by her the way Obi-wan should have. There was Anakin, bursting in through the doors just in time to save her. These imaginary figures, these phantoms of a future never to come faded in and out of sight. They were glimpses in the corner of his eyes; memories that fractured and reflected off the scene before him.

Banishing them was impossible. Instead, he let them flit over his vision, superimposed and warring with reality.

Padme was dressed in a deceptively simple and yet somehow threatening outfit. It cut her silhouette into sharp lines with its straight edges and block colours, and her heels seemed to give her another few inches. Obi-wan had no doubt that each part of it had been chosen carefully to allow for the best psychological manipulation of the juries as well as safety for her. If he looked carefully enough, Obi-wan was certain he would make out a knife hilt or two.

Tarkin, as always, was dressed in uniform with each of his medals pinned to him. His head was tilted upwards as he surveyed the room, looking around condescendingly and sneering at Duster. The poor man, Obi-wan could hardly imagine what the clone was going through. His armour gleamed and had clearly been thoroughly scrubbed the night before, but the man was quaking inside of it. Not that Obi-wan blamed him, no, not at all.

Silently, he prayed to the force. It had always been a light in the darkness, a hint of warmth when all was cold and impersonal. It was clear that Duster needed that, something solid to hold to. Obi-wan understood. When the floor was crumbling beneath your feet, when everything you thought you knew shattered into pieces too small to pick up, holding onto yourself became near impossible. The force would guide him, and he hoped that it would guide Duster as well – protect him from the darkness.

When he looked back to scene before him, the force was humming gently beneath his skin. Obi-wan smiled. Duster would be just fine.

Looking down on them, Obi-wan could not help but to think of how small they looked. From such a height, they seemed like ants, they appeared to be unreal. That was how they must have seemed to Sidious anyways as he looked down on them, ready to sentence Krell this way or that. Obi-wan chuckled ironically, deciding that they looked to be exactly what they were; pawns in Sidious’s game, playthings for him to push around the board for his own satisfaction.

He clenched his fist. He would not allow that to happen anymore.

The rage in his chest grew again in swells. Its colour was almost tangible, he could almost taste the crimson blood, the pomegranate seeds that grew into spiked branches, the bright burn of it clawing at his throat. The dark side whispered. It dared him, sung so sweetly that honey seemed to drip from its very being. Sidious was right there. He was right there in front of him, within reach. He had no weapons, but the force was there. Reach out and take it, the cloying darkness simmered, this power is yours to command.

He gritted his teeth. Clenched his fists. Focused on Padme and Duster, their hope, their fear, their determination.

Sidious raised his hand. The already hushed room fell into complete silence, then members of the jury, focusing all of their attentions on the matter at hand, filed in through the door and took their seats. How many of them had been threatened? How many bribed? Had they been promised status, safety money? There was no doubt that Sidious had some stake in how this trial turned, but the outcome he was planning was clouded.

Not a single throat was cleared, nor a cough heard as they waited in anticipation for the trial to begin.

“Pong Krell,” Sidious said, voice raspy and horrid as it cracked out of his rotten mouth, “you have been charged with sedition against the Jedi order, and the Republic itself.” He stared down at Krell, eyes dark with disappointment. “This court will decide your fate.”

“Prosecution, you may begin your arguments.”

Padme stepped forward. Despite the anxiety that Obi-wan could feel roiling within her, she was the picture of professionalism. It was not a senator who stood before them all but a queen, straight backed, carrying the burdens of a planet thrown it to war. It was a fourteen-year-old girl who had grown up to fast. It was a master of spycraft who wove with one hand and cut with the other. It was Padme Amidala, and Obi-wan felt himself smile in anticipation for when Tarkin would realise that.

She was ready to unleash hell.

“I would like to call clone commander Duster as a witness.” She said, voice clear and steady. And the name, she had used his name. It was a statement, and a loud one at that. To the senate, Duster wasn’t human, and you couldn’t abuse an object. That line of logic was clearly what Tarkin had bet on, himself being an avid believer of the vicious dogma. It was clear that Padme had planned for this. In using his name instead of his number, she was making him a person. She was telling them that he was a person.

Duster shook as he came forward, hardly seeming to breath. From this distance, Obi-wan could only just make out the small comforting smile that Padme wore, trying to calm the poor man down. With Krell directly opposite him, glaring and snarling like a rabid beast, Obi-wan didn’t know if it would be enough.

Then the clone stopped trembling, visibly steeled himself, and nodded slightly.

“Can you please state your name and age for the jury.” Padme asked, voice soft with steel hidden beneath.

“Duster. Ten standard rotations.”

There was a hushed intake of breath.

Yes, it was far too easy to forget the age of the clones. Ten standard rotations, with the mind and body of an adult. And yet there on that platform, Duster looked unbearably young. It seemed that they had rehearsed this, and it was clear what Padme’s aims were. Obi-wan gave credit where credit was due – she certainly knew how to send a message.

“And can you identify for me the man known as Pong Krell.”

Duster pointed to the Besalisk, still bound and snarling. The fallen Jedi looked two seconds away from shouting something, snapping at the world itself. In fact, Obi-wan would almost bet that the only thing preventing such an action was the cold and indifferent glare of Tarkin, a force so impersonal it seemed to freeze all in its path.

And as Duster continued, his expression only worsened.

With every minor misconduct brought up, every breach of moral and legal code, the Besalisks snarl grew more twisted. There were videos now, holos taken by clones in a desperate bid to prove that such mistreatment was occurring. Each was shaky, as though the hands holding the camera could hardly manage that much in the face of blind fear and panic. As Obi-wan watched them, he wondered if perhaps his expression mirrored Krells. He wondered if that burning rage looked the same in his eyes.

A clone swore quietly in the holo as the crackling blue image of Krell stalked out of the room – having just thrown Duster against a wall for daring to stand up for his men. The clone stayed there for a minute, the video still rolling as the men were frozen in shock and fear, looking at their commander sprawled against the wall, clutching his side and looking nothing more than resigned to such treatment.

Obi-wan wanted to scream. He wanted to stand up and shout at this man who dared to – to do that. The anger was louder now, not the quiet simmering kind that boiled in his gut, but the pounding rush of blood in his ears that made sound fade to nothingness. Obi-wan shoved it back down. It took all of his restraint not to launch himself forward, to put himself in front of Duster, to shield him from the rabid dog on the other end of the court room. Sitting quietly at the side, he did what he could to sooth the terror building in the commander’s mind. The force hummed, and he pushed that sense of clam-determined-strength as far as he dared.

When Padme addressed the court, there was not a single person who did not feel the stinging burn of her words.

“Gentle beings of the jury, I now have the opportunity to address you directly. It is my privilege to provide you with the evidence, however horrific its existence may be, but it is your duty to decide whether on such evidence the accused has been proven guilty beyond reasonable doubt.” She cast her eyes around the room, a silent dare. Duty, she had said, enunciating the word. It was their duty to bring in this justice. “There is no reasonable doubt that Krell is guilty of the offense charged. On the evidence, the factors pointing to Prong Krell’s guilt are as follows – “

Before she had the chance to begin, a roar silenced her. Obi-wan grimaced. It would seem that Takins icy glare could not keep such red-hot anger at bay for long.

“You blind fools!” Krell wrenched forward, spitting the words out as if they were poison. His grin twisted unkindly, and Obi-wan readied himself, not knowing what would come next. “Treating this thing like a person, holding a fucking trial for it.” He continued, glaring at Duster. Even from so high above them Obi-wan could see the clone tremble, could feel the way his force presence dimmed.

Padme stepped between them. “Control your client.” She said viciously, eyeing Tarkin who seemed more annoyed than anything else. The jury looked petrified, and Obi-wan felt briefly vindicated that this outburst would not look good for the Besalisk in question.

“And you,” Krell went on, ignoring the order, “how dare you speak against me.” Duster was past trembling now and instead was quite literally shaking. His face was white as the snow of Hoth and Obi-wan wanted nothing more than to jump over the balcony and reassure him, to place a hand on his arm and tell him how brave he was to stand up against such a wicked being, to explain that he was saving his brothers lives as well as his own. “You are nothing without a master. Just a mindless droid in need of orders.” Krell grinned, wide and cruel and Obi-wan stood, ready to intervene. “You want orders so bad? Fine by me.”

Time seemed to slow. Obi-wan could see the words forming, understood exactly what was happening a moment before the event began. And once again, he was powerless to stop it. No lightsabres, no aid, no way to get down there and stop the order before it happened.

“Execute order – “

Krell never got the chance to finish. He dropped quite suddenly; he did not even make a sound. Screams sounded from the crowd, people stood and raced out of the building. Jedi jumped forward from their perch, setting off to search for the phantom assassin. Obi-wan remained seated as Palpatine’s voice ordered everyone to remain calm.

 Raw relief stunned him to the bone. He could not move for the sting of breath returning to his body. The order, he hadn’t managed to give it. Duster was safe. The Jedi were safe. Force, he was safe.

And yet still the images warred in his mind. Those words – they were poison. They were the seeds of darkness that grew in his head, the strands of nightmares that braided themselves between his sleep. Obi-wan trembled in their presence, fought them in his head, reminded himself over and over that this was not Mustafar. There were no fiery mountains, no burning flesh, no yellow eyes shattering the only thing he was clinging to.

Panic surrounded him. Moving sluggishly, he tried to get his bearings back. A med droid had arrived scanning Krell and beeping every so often, but Obi-wan knew that the effort was wasted. The Besalisk was dead. He had solidified his own end.

Sidious stood stationary by his lectern, face blank. He gave no indication of having just ordered an assassination on one of his followers, but Obi-wan wouldn’t have expected him too. Krell had almost given it all away, and that betrayal would not have been allowed to occur. How he had known about the orders was anyone’s guess, coming to him in a vision perhaps or given as part of a web that Palpatine was weaving carefully around him.

A web that would never be complete.

Obi-wan stared at him. He did not need the dark side to take this man down. No, that anger had driven Krell to his grave. Obi-wan had no use for anger. It was love that made him fierce, hope that made him unbreakable.

He turned on his heel. With Krell gone, there was an entire battalion who needed a new general. He had a lot of paperwork to fill out.

To say that Duster was shaken would be an understatement. The trial had gone – how to put it in a way that did not trigger another panic attack – it had certainly gone. And now everything that he had once known was falling away, crumbling beneath his fingers as he tried to grasp hold of something – anything – familiar.

Krell was dead.

Duster had watched him drop as panic flooded his system. The order he had tried to give, those words had paralysed him. For a moment it was as though he was not control of his body, like he was dreaming. The world had sunk beneath waves of contentment, and he was – kriff he had been happy to have an order. At the same time, he had been struggling towards the surface of his mind, trying to tear himself away from the man’s gaze and focus on the words of senator Amidala. But he hadn’t been able to move, hadn’t even been able to think.

So yes, it was safe to say that Duster was shaken. And not just by whatever the kriff that had been. Krell was dead, and as much as that thought warmed him, it also left a gaping black hole in the chain of command. Someone had to fill it, and there was no guarantee that they would treat his brothers better than the four-armed fucker. So, Duster had to prepare, set aside emergency rations, debrief his most trusted, make sure none of his men had bitten the bullet in the literal sense and offed themselves.

(It happened too frequently in his battalion. They slipped, they got too comfortable, they were drunk and confused. Everybody knew the little lies, everybody pretended not to.)

Instead of doing any of those things, however, he was sitting silently in General Koons private rooms, holding a steaming cup of tea that he had not yet dared to drink and trying to keep his trembling to a minimum.

General Koon had not spoken yet, had only led Duster quietly through the temple after the – fiasco, and sat him down on a couch. What this was about, he had no idea. But the Jedi had helped him before. He had been the one to apprehend Krell, and Duster owed him for that. So, he sat still and quietly, clutching his tea, waiting for the Kel Dor to make the first move.

“Drink, Commander.” General Koon said, nodding to the steaming cup. “It will help calm you.”

Drugged perhaps? No. surely that was simply the paranoia talking. But even if it was perfectly safe to drink, he wasn’t sure he could bring himself to. In all honesty, Duster feared that ingesting anything would only result in throwing it back up. He did not want to waste any of the Generals tea, and he certainly didn’t want to throw up all over his shoes like a sick cadet. But a direct order was a direct order, so slowly he lifted the cup and took a sip.

It was hot, almost scalding, but the flavour was – nice. Not like the regulation caf, not even like the regular caf he had managed to taste on coruscant, it didn’t have the same bitterness. The opposite really, it was almost sweet.

In spite of himself, Duster began to relax into the couch. The tea settled warmly in his stomach, and he wondered briefly if General Koon really had drugged him. A quick self-diagnosis told him otherwise, so unless the Kel Dor was using a poison Duster had not heard of, then he was perfectly safe.

“I am sorry that we have failed you so, commander.” The jedi said, and Duster looked at him now, looked him in the eyes the way he would never have dared to look at Krell. The comparison between them could not have been more striking. Krell was cruel, dogmatic, and physically so much larger than the smiling jedi across from him who brewed him a cup of tea and apologised to him for something that was not his fault.

Duster swallowed.

“What Krell did to you and your men was unacceptable. I know that nothing I do will make up for the wrongs inflicted on you, but nevertheless, I would like to make a start in trying.” Every word was said with absolute seriousness and regret, as though the General truly did feel responsible for Krells actions.

He had stopped talking, clearly waiting for a response, but Duster could find none to give. He felt vulnerable, rubbed raw and open. Krell was dead and now everything was uncertain. He didn’t know what was expected of him, what he was supposed to do now. It shamed him – the need for orders. And unbidden the Besalisks words came back to mind.

He was useless without a master.

“With your permission, commander, I would like to merge the 104^th with your battalion. I would like to keep your men together as far as possible; I feel separating them would be – unwise.” General Koon explained, and Duster sighed. At least he wouldn’t be separated from his brothers, no matter what happened he would have them to fall back on. There was that familiarity that he was desperate for, that was something he could hold on to now that the rest of his world was quickly crumbling to ashes. Practically as well, it meant he could protect them the way he had protected them from Krell. If this did turn out to be some trick, a horrible joke of lulling them into a false sense of security, then at least they would have Duster to take the blame, to shoulder the physical punishments and give them a better chance at survival.

“Were you chosen to take us on?” He asked, because if this was something General Koon had just been shouldered with then… well. Duster wasn’t actually sure. Maybe it would make him harder on the men, if he saw them as a burden. Or maybe he would just ignore them if he didn’t want to deal with them. Force, what Duster would give to just be left alone.

“I volunteered.” The general answered, and Duster stopped slightly. He wasn’t really sure wat that meant, he hadn’t been sure of anything since the trial but knew curve balls just kept getting thrown at him and he didn’t fucking know what to do.

 “I have also acquired special permissions from the jedi council in regards to your battalion.” The General continued, and Duster stiffened. Special permission? That couldn’t be good. “The senate is not, how to say, forthcoming with the aid you and your brothers deserve. Often times the temple is not equipped to provide for you with its own resources, but in this case, we are uniquely specialised.”

The aid they needed. Was it reconditioning? Did General Koon think they were defective because of Krell? Fuck this was bad. This was very, very bad. Most of the battalion wouldn’t survive reconditioning. Duster wasn’t even sure if he would survive it. He was tired, he ached, the bruises on his wrists from general Krells less than gentle man handling hadn’t healed yet and he could hardly think with all the memories spinning around in his mind. What the fuck was he going to do. Oh shit, what was he going to do?

Duster tried to breath, kept running through those dumb exercises that were supposed to be for withstanding torture.

“Sir?”  he asked, because he couldn’t think to say anything else, and he had to say something otherwise he knew he would break down crying and that was really not something General Koon would be excited to see. Clones weren’t allowed emotions.

The General smiled, taking a sip of tea and instinctively Duster did the same, screw the drugs if they were in there he didn’t care anymore. Anything would be better than this. “I have spoken with the chief mind healer. Considering it is impossible for her to see each of you individually for sessions, it is her belief that a ‘therapet’ would be beneficial for you and your men.” The General said, and Duster’s mind momentarily stopped working.

“I am afraid I don’t follow, sir.” He said, no longer bothering to mask his confusion. He would rather know what was going on and be punished for it than be left stumbling around in the dark trying to save his brothers from something he didn’t even understand.

“When our knights come back from field missions, they have often been subject to extreme amounts of stress.” The master explained, voice gentle and steady with no sign of anger at Dusters inability to keep up.  “We keep Strills, Massiffs, and Correlian hounds here in the temple as companions for them. We find it helps them regain some normalcy and emotional stability. You and your men will be designated a number of Massiffs.”

Duster very nearly dropped the cup of tea. Massiffs. The jedi were going to give them Massiffs. As in, the cute little creatures his men had watched holonet videos of when they were able to do so outside of Krells knowledge. As in, the pack bonding animals that were considered to be a massive source of comfort to many nat-borns. And the jedi were just going… give them to his men?

“If the program is successful, the council intends to provide each clone barracks here on Coruscant with a Strill in the hopes that it will provide your brothers with entertainment and comfort.”

They were being treated for post-traumatic stress. That was the aid they were receiving. There was too many of them for a mind healer to talk to individually but a shared therapet would work. Duster understood, Plo Koon thought they needed to be healed, thought they deserved to be healed. But Duster wasn’t so sure. The kaminoans had made sure to breed the ability to be traumatised out of them. They didn’t need this. But the jedi thought – they thought –

Of course. That was why he had helped them in the first place. The jedi genuinely did think the clones were real people. Plo Koon thought Duster was a real person.

Until recently, Duster had thought the same. He had weathered Krells wrath by telling himself over and over again that the besalisk was wrong. As the General retreated after an outburst, he would repeat it in his mind. He’s wrong, I’m real, we’re real, we are real. There had been anger, so, so much anger at being treated less than, God he had been furious about it for as long as he could remember. But Duster was a cynic so he kept his head down and kept moving and kept swearing under his breath whenever he could. I’m real, fucker, bet my fist in your face would feel fucking real.

But then – then the trial had happened. Then the orders had come and now, now Duster wasn’t sure of anything. Real people didn’t become blank when given an order, they didn’t need a superior to report to, and they didn’t sit in the jedi temple drinking tea whilst trying to figure out how to keep the rest of their fake brothers from getting decommissioned. And that was the word, decommissioned. You couldn’t die if you weren’t real.

Duster took a deep breath. The jedi had helped him, he deserved to know the truth. “You’re only doing this because you – you think we’re people. You think I’m real.” His voice came out strangled and weak and he hated it, but it had to be said. Plo Koon had to know.

But the jedi didn’t look like he understood. His eyes were creased in sadness, and Duster felt the distinct urge to apologise because he had upset the person who was in charge of all of his brothers. But the Kel dor spoke before he could do something stupid like throw himself at his feet. “My friend, of course you are real. You are named Duster, you are an exceptionally talented soldier, and you like the taste of this tea.” The man pointed to the teacup which was now sitting empty in Dusters hands. “You are a real person. I swear it.”

He didn’t understand and Duster didn’t know how to make him. The frustration wound itself up inside of him, mixing with all of that left over anger from Krell, everything that he had kept locked tightly away because he had no right to feel it.

He jumped to his feet, the teacup falling from his grip. “No! No, I – don’t you see? He was right.” He was crying now but he couldn’t stop. Even though he knew this was getting him and his brothers nowhere, that he was practically signing their death warrants he couldn’t stop. “When he almost – the order – I was happy.” He choked out, hands coming up to his head. “It was awful, but I was…. Whatever he had asked I would have done it.” That was a certainty. If the bessalisk had ordered him to put a bullet in his own brain Duster would have done it. “I don’t know how I know but I – I’m not real.” He fell back to the couch, his energy used. Plo Koon was staring at him like he was seeing him for the first time and the guilt came swooping back in. “I’m sorry I tricked you.” He said quietly, because the Kel Dor had been kind and Duster hadn’t meant to trick him into helping, he thought the jedi knew what he was. “I didn’t mean to trick you. You don’t have to – you can – “

There were arms around him and for a brief moment Duster thought the General was strangling him. He panicked, flailing slightly but quickly realised that if he was going to die it may as well be here. Plo Koon was nice, he wouldn’t make it hurt more than it had to. And in the grand scheme of things, it was better than a bullet. It wasn’t so impersonal; it wouldn’t be the worst way to go. But the arms didn’t squeeze the air out of him or bruise or hurt, they just held him.

“It’s okay, Duster. You’re okay.” The jedi said and Duster – damnit – Duster couldn’t stop crying.

“I b-broke you’re teacup.” He said miserably, because through the watery haze he could see little pieces of it, and he realised it must of shattered when he had dropped it. The jedi’s body shuddered as Master Koon laughed.

“It’s okay Duster. It’s just a teacup, it can be replaced. You, however, cannot be.” – Wrong, Duster wanted to say, us clones get replaced everyday – “Because you are a real person, one who thinks and feels. I know because I can feel it, your force presence is quite something little one. I am so sorry that you have been feeling such horrible things, but you deserve to have the chance to work through them. I see now how much you need this care, care that no one has ever extended to you. Please Duster, let us help you. We want to help you.”

There was no use in arguing, even if there was Duster didn’t have the energy. He had already been so stupid, shouting at a General, losing his temper, putting his brothers at risk. So what if they weren’t fucking real? His brothers were all he had. And he was just – done. Tired. God he was so tired. “Okay, Sir.” He said quietly and resolved to say no more. He stared at the teacup on the ground, broken beyond repair. He had done that. Duster didn’t want to think about it, didn’t want to imagine what punishment he or his brothers would face because of this stupid, useless outburst.

But the General just smiled. He didn’t look angry, he didn’t seethe. He wasn’t like Krell. Duster could see that at least, and he wasn’t so cruel as to think them the same. “You can call me Plo Koon, little one. It’s my name after all.” The General – Plo Koon – said.

And Duster just stared back. It was all he could think to do