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Chapter Text

~ DAY 813 ~

Obi-Wan hates when Cody is away. 

He knows that this is important. There is little in the galaxy that he thinks is more important, to be quite frank, than the vode receiving their freedom. Cody has to be present on Coruscant for the signing of the Clones’ Decree of Citizenship. If he’s to be their leader, if they ever want to settle somewhere planet side instead of drifting aimlessly through the galaxy aboard their demilitarized cruisers, if they want a life, then they have to go through the proper channels.

And Obi-Wan couldn't go with him because… 

Well, he isn’t exactly welcome in the Senate building these days.

~ DAY 1 ~

"What do you mean, 'it's the Chancellor'?" Cody hisses, sounding oddly far away.

Or maybe it’s Obi-Wan that’s far away.

Fives gestures wildly. "There are chips! In our heads! And the Chancellor is- well, I don't know if he's the one who did it, but he at least knows about it!"

"He's the leader of the Republic!" Cody protests. "Why would he hide something like this?"

Obi-Wan struggles to breathe. "It all makes sense," he wheezes out, grabbing Cody's elbow with a crushing grip.

"What about this makes any sense?" Cody is angry, but he doesn't turn it towards Obi-Wan, meeting his harsh touch with a gentle brush of gloved fingers.

He closes his eyes, calls on the Force. "Dooku always said a Sith is controlling the Senate. We've never been able to find out who paid the Kaminoans for your creation. He- Palpatine has always rubbed me the wrong way, encouraged Anakin to-"

Obi-Wan pukes, a thousand realizations hitting him with the force of a freighter.

~ DAY 813 ~

Obi-Wan hates when Cody is away.

Even before he... Even before, he'd been rather attached to his commander. At this point, it’s a lost cause. They’re so codependent that it’s unhealthy. Toxic, even, according to the mind healers.

He’s attached to the vode in general, to be honest, though it’s usually only the 212th that has to put up with his clinginess, since Obi-Wan never leaves their ship. Ghost Company, specifically, is on the receiving end of Obi-Wan’s flowing and ebbing affections.

They’re the only ones who truly understood, after all.

They’re the only ones who were there.

~ DAY 1 ~

"Cody, what I'm about to suggest is…" Obi-Wan trails off, glancing down at Fives.

He’s curled up between Cody and Obi-Wan in the back of a commandeered shuttle, sleeping off whatever drug the Kaminoan had pumped into him. With a shaking finger, Obi-Wan reaches out and traces the stylized 5 on his temple. It feels like a forbidden act- and that makes it all the sweeter when the clone hums and presses more fully into the touch.

Obi-Wan looks back up, meeting Cody's eyes with conviction. "What I'm about to suggest is treason. And I'm sorry that I can't send you away, where it will be safe, but I need your help."

"Anything, sir," Cody agrees, immediate and confident.

Licking his lips, Obi-Wan reaches out to the Force, feeling a sense of rightness for the first time in… in years. "Commander Fox is your batchmate."

"Yes, sir."

"Will he take your word on… on all of this?"

Cody hesitates. "He… he's been… not himself, lately. If the Chancellor is what we think he is, then it explains a lot. He's been ignoring me and Wolffe's coms, sending his shinies back to Kamino for reconditioning for minor offenses. He… missed Pond's memorial."

"Palpatine's had time to get inside his head," Obi-Wan says, unsure if he's trying to offer comfort or sympathy. Maybe an apology.

Cody seems to take it at face value. "So, we can't tell him the truth. But he can still help us. I'll go to his office. I'll- I'll say I want to confront him about avoiding me. Get him alone, knock him out, steal his armor. I'll be able to get us inside the Chancellor's office. How many do you think we'll need to subdue him?" He asks, already pulling out his com to start messaging his men-

"We're not subduing him, Commander." Obi-Wan's eyes squeeze shut. "He's too powerful. Our only option is to end him."

"Understood, General. How many?"

"All of Ghost."

~ DAY 813 ~

Obi-Wan is sandwiched between Boil and Wooley in the mess hall when his com rings. He almost spills his tea in his haste to answer it, pulling it out of his pocket and slamming it onto the table.

"Cody!” He smiles widely at the flickering, blue face. "How are you?"

The other man smiles back, softer and more subdued but no less genuine. "Hello, cyare. Safe. Done. I'll be leaving soon."

"Good. I miss you." Obi-Wan goes lax with the heady relief of the good news, collapsing against Boil, who takes his weight easily.

Cody frowns, worried wrinkle taking up its customary spot between his eyes. "Are you alright? Have you had any…?" He trails off, either unable or unwilling to finish.

It doesn’t matter. They all know what he’s talking about. 

"No." Wooley leans in a little so that he’s in the com's range. "We've been fine, sir."

The wrinkle doesn’t move. "Good days?"

"Average," Boil says over Obi-Wan's head.

Average does not mean good, Obi-Wan knows.

"Good enough that I know you're talking about me," he huffs, not quite offended enough to move from Boil's chest but still upset that they’re talking about him like he isn’t there.

Boil presses a quick kiss to the top of his head in apology. "Sorry, General."

"You're forgiven," Obi-Wan sighs, mollified enough to let it go.

Wooley rolls his eyes. "We've been fine, Commander," he repeats. "If anything, Boil here will be disappointed to have you back. He's gotten used to having a lapful of the General in the week you've been gone."

Obi-Wan squirms, embarrassed, and tucks his face into Boil's neck, who laughs and wraps his arm around the slender man. "I've been getting spoiled in your absence, sir."

"Glad to hear it," Cody says, stress lines fading as his smile comes back. "Obi-Wan? Do you have a new favorite?"

Blue eyes peek out from under Boil's chin, narrowed in a glare. "Don't ask stupid questions. When will you be back?" He asks, knowing he’s whining but unable to stop himself.

"Not long," Cody soothes, years of practice at calming him down helping him find the right words quickly. "Less than 36 hours, bar any major complications. I'm waiting on my atmo-shuttle now. And…” He hesitates a beat, looking over at something that isn’t in range of the holo. “And I have a surprise for you.’

The Jedi squints, suddenly suspicious. “A surprise? What kind of surprise?”

“Nothing extravagant,” Cody dismisses easily. “You’ll like it, I promise.”

Obi-Wan wants to argue more but Cody must see it on his face and cuts him off with a change of topic. “What's the mess serving the day after tomorrow?”

He blinks, trying to remember the weekly menu posted on the door. "Grilled fish. Root vegetables. Citrus sherbet."

"Sounds good." He raises a hand, as if to touch, and then lowers it back out of view of the com. "It's a date. Unless you've already made plans with Boil?" He adds, teasing.

"It's a date," he repeats eagerly.

And, to make a point, he Force-shoves Boil off the bench and to the ground, smiling widely the whole time.

All three clones laugh, even Boil, and Obi-Wan ducks his head, happy for the first time since Cody left.

Soon.

~ DAY 1 ~

"We'll need other Force users. I know a few who may help us. I'll reach out."

"...Force users, sir? Do you mean Jedi?"

"I don't think a Jedi will be able to do what needs done."

"General, you can't be saying-"

"I'm saying that I will do what needs to be done. Whatever the consequences of that may be… Well, we'll deal with them as they come."

Cody looks gutted. "But, sir, why can't we just call the Council-"

"You know what the Council is like." Obi-Wan shakes his head. "No. They'll have a meeting that will turn into a session that will turn into a hearing. We can't let this advantage get away from us, we have to move fast."

The other man is squeezing his fists, trembling slightly. "Will they let you be a Jedi again? If you…?" He doesn't say it. 

Obi-Wan doesn't think he can, either.

"It doesn't matter. I'm doing this for the Jedi."

But the words feel wrong, somehow. He doesn't know why, but-

Cody shakes his head. "No, you're not."

"What? Of course-"

"You're doing it for us." Cody's eyes are shining, horror and guilt and awe and gratitude warring for dominance in his Force signature. "For the vode."

Obi-Wan's jaw closes with a click of teeth. He considers it, humming in thought. "Oh. Well, that makes more sense, I suppose."

~ DAY 813 ~

Obi-Wan spends most of the day hanging off of Boil, following him around as he performs some basic ship maintenance.

The freighter they are currently calling home is smaller than the cruisers they’re used to, designed to comfortably house a crew of about 200. But with only Ghost Company and a few stragglers from some of the 212th’s other units, it feels cavernous sometimes, empty and echoing.

Looking up from the datapad in his lap, Obi-Wan shifts restlessly. “Boil?”

“Yes, sir?” His voice is muffled from underneath the control panel he’s working on, but he kicks a leg out, gently nudging the toe of his boot against Obi-Wan’s thigh.

Obi-Wan sighs in relief at the contact. “Nothing, really. I just miss it, sometimes,” he murmurs, head tilting back to rest against the cool metal wall.

“Sir?” Boil squirms out from under the console. “Miss what?”

He shrugs. “The Negotiator.”

“Oh.” Boil scratches his chin, leaving a smudge of oil behind. “Yeah. Yeah, I do, too, sir.”

Smiling, Obi-Wan leans forward to swipe at it with the edge of his robe sleeve. “She was a beautiful ship,” he whispers, wistful and sad.

Boil doesn’t say anything. He moves easily under Obi-Wan’s hand, tilting his head this way and that at the slightest pressure, and makes a pleased sound when Obi-Wan leans forward to press a kiss to the now clean skin.

“I miss the rest of the vode,” he continues, just to break the silence. “I miss the Jedi.”

The clone frowns. “It’ll be okay. This isn’t forever, sir.”

“It’s been over two years, Boil,” Obi-Wan whispers.

He feels… off. His thoughts are growing foggier and the Force is starting to swirl around him darkly. He shakes his head, trying to clear the negative sensations away, but it only makes him dizzy.

Boil reaches out, firmly wrapping his still oily hand around one of Obi-Wan’s wrists. “Hey. Hey, General, you okay?” He asks, voice ratcheting up a notch with worry.

“Yes. Yes, I’m fine.” He sighs, carefully releasing his emotion into the Force as he does so. It is… tempting, to float away, but Boil’s warm grip is grounding. “I think I’m going to head to the rec room, however. I need to look up some old case law to finish this back pay appeal I’m working on with Master Koon and I think a change of scenery is in order.”

Hesitating for just a beat, Boil releases Obi-Wan. “Of course, General. I’ll com ahead, make sure there’s a vod around.”

“Thank you, Boil.”

Obi-Wan leans in, bumps their foreheads together just a tad rougher than is comfortable, and then pulls himself to his feet and leaves the cold, empty bridge of their freighter. 

~ DAY 1 ~

Helix is able to dechip Cody and the rest of Ghost in the back of their cramped shuttle.

Obi-Wan can’t decide if he seems more upset about having been mind-controlled since decantation or the fact that he's being asked to perform brain surgery in "a filthy, germ-infested death trap".

"Probably the brain surgery thing," Fives muses, oddly calm now that they have a plan.

Obi-Wan allows himself a quick smile, never taking his eyes off of Helix's hands so that he can help the medic with his own chip next. "Yes, medics and healers and nurses really are built of sturdier stuff, aren't they?"

"Please tell me that you're paying attention." Helix sounds more annoyed than anything. "I'm not sturdy enough to survive botched neurosurgery, I promise."

Cody, hovering over a recovering Boil, seems less amused. "We're about to go AWOL and commit multiple crimes, including treason, assault, identity theft, and, oh yeah, assassination. Can we please focus?"

Obi-Wan hums an affirmative and basks in the feeling of Cody's Force signature, free for the first time of the darkness that Obi-Wan had never realized was an outside influence.

"Whatever you say, my dear commander."

~ DAY 813 ~

Helix is in his blacks, leaning over the ship’s only holo-table, when Obi-Wan gets to the rec room.

He looks up when the door slides open and nods politely. “General.”

“Hello there, Helix,” he greets pleasantly. “What are you working on?”

Helix wiggles the datapad in his hands. “Just sharing some notes with Kix. The labs on Kamino just released some more information on possible gene therapy to slow our aging,” he explains.

“Oh. Anything promising?” Obi-Wan steps closer, draping himself along Helix’s back to look at the information over his shoulder.

The medic shifts to support their combined weight more easily. “Yes. Or we hope so, at least. If it works, it still wouldn’t be a 100% reversion to nat-born aging. We’re thinking about 60% based on current projections.”

“Would it be a painful procedure?” He frowns, arms tightening unconsciously around Helix’s middle. “What does it entail?”

Helix rubs a thumb along the inside of Obi-Wan’s wrist. “It’d be mostly chemo. Unpleasant, but not horribly so. We’re more worried about the cost.” He pulls up a chart on the holo-table. “It’d be very expensive. Probably somewhere between five and six thousand credits per clone,” he explains, pointing with his free hand at the data summary.

“We’ll find the funds. I promise,” Obi-Wan growls.

Maybe a little too darkly, he thinks, because Helix freezes under his touch, going carefully still with battle honed instincts. In apology, he nudges his nose against the back of Helix’s ear, just where all of the clones have a ticklish spot, and grins in satisfaction when the clone huffs and wiggles.

“That’s cheating, sir,” Helix mock-scolds. “What will the commander say when he finds out you’ve been terrorizing us in his absence?”

Obi-Wan laughs and gives a final, strong squeeze before he releases the other man. “Oh, don’t worry about me, Helix, I have plenty of ways to distract Cody.”

“Oh, gross. Ew, sir,” Helix complains in a voice that doesn’t completely hide his amusement.

Unrepentant, Obi-Wan settles gracefully onto the low bench around the holo-table and starts pulling up his own research. “I thought medics were supposed to be comfortable about sex,” he teases.

“Medically speaking, sure.” Without prompting, Helix sits down as well and, when Obi-Wan tugs a few times on his shoulder, he allows himself to be rearranged so that his head is in his general’s lap. “That doesn’t mean I want to know about what goes on between you two.”

Obi-Wan starts carding his fingers through dark curls. It’s a familiar action, soothing enough even though it isn’t Cody in his lap, and he feels the darkness swirling around him retreat enough that his thoughts start to clear.

Hours later, after he’s pulled enough files to comb through for references for his and Koon’s reparations bill, he blinks back to himself and stretches a little.

Helix looks up, eyes foggy with sleep and cheek creased from the folds in Obi-Wan’s robes. “All done, sir?”

“For now,” Obi-Wan agrees.

He’s unconsciously tracing a familiar pattern around Helix’s left eye and he freezes when he realizes what he’s doing. The medic catches his wrist with a soft grip before he can pull away.

"It's okay, sir. He'll be back soon."

Obi-Wan gives a curt nod and looks away.

Soon.

~ DAY 1 ~

It only takes Ghost Company six hours to round up and incapacitate enough of the Coruscant Guard to pose as a full patrol.

It takes Obi-Wan about the same amount of time to gather and sway Quinlan Vos and Asajj Ventress to their cause.

And after that, it's…

They fight.

It's the most intense battle of Obi-Wan's life. He feels trooper after trooper die, their Force signature blinking out. He feels it when Cody takes a deflected blaster bolt to the knee. He feels it when Trapper falls, dead before he hits the ground, windpipe crushed. He feels it when his own body collapses under the full force of Sith lightning.

He watches, unable to do anything but seize uncontrollably, as Boil loses his arm at the elbow.

And then he can breathe.

When he blinks, he's staring at Palpatine's head. It's not connected to his body.

He's about to make a quippy remark -something along the lines of 'now, let's not lose our heads, Chancellor' or maybe 'good job going for the neck, Ventress, I’ve learned, when killing Siths, that the waist just doesn't cut it'- but he doesn't get the chance.

Suddenly, he's pulled into the Force equivalent of a blackhole and all he can do is scream.

Chapter Text

~ DAY 813 ~

During dinner, Obi-Wan wanders around the mess hall from vod to vod, looking for someone, anyone, anything to keep the darkness at bay.

Nothing seems to help, though, and he can see the men getting nervous. It's not obvious, but he knows the signs well. Hands drifting to blasters, shifting so that he's always in their line of sight.

Someone must call Boil, because the man enters the mess hall a few moments after Obi-Wan gives up and folds himself into an empty booth. He approaches easily, all smiles, and Obi-Wan Force pushes him halfway across the mess hall before he gets control of himself.

Horrified, he springs to his feet and hurries over. "Oh, I'm so sorry, my dear!"

"No harm, no foul," Boil wheezes, holding the back of his head. "Sorry to startle you, sir."

Obi-Wan helps the man up with gentle hands and carefully inspects the back of his head. There's no blood, thankfully, but he can already feel a rapidly forming bump. "You didn't. My apologies, Boil. I think it's maybe best if I retire," he adds, stepping away once he can see the man is steady on his feet.

"What? General, no. It's best if you stay here." Boil's eyes go wide with panic.

Careful to keep his touch gentle, Obi-Wan thumbs at the back of Boil's head. When the man winces in pain, he closes his eyes. "I don't want to hurt you, my dear. Any of you."

"We can handle a few bruises," Boil insists, reaching out to tangle a fist in Obi-Wan's robe. "Please, sir. How about we all go to the training room? Lay down on the mats? Wooley will put on a holo and we can all relax."

He rubs his beard in thought. "It would be safer there, I suppose. Padded floors and walls. And it's… easier, when you're all so close," he adds, considering.

"Exactly!" He nods encouragingly. "We can't risk…" He trails off, then, and lets go of Obi-Wan's robe to gently tap-tap a finger against his temple.

Obi-Wan laughs, a pathetic, wet sounding thing, but nods in agreement.

Boil grins, triumphant. "Great. Why don't you take a vod and go grab whatever you'll want from your quarters and I'll get everything set up?"

"Okay." Obi-Wan runs a finger around the back of Boil's head one more time, gentle and apologetic, before he steps back. "Okay."

~ DAY 5 ~

The next thing Obi-Wan is aware of is waking up strapped to a medical bed.

He's familiar with the sensation, of course. The Halls of Healing, field triage, med bays, local hospitals. Across so many cultures and environments, they're all the same.

The slightly off-putting smell, whether it's bacta or holy incense or healing herbs, the too quiet silence enforced by sharp eyed aides, the discomforting tinge of hope-grief-relief in the Force.

The bedside vigils.

Obi-Wan struggles to lift his head. "An'kin."

"Master!" Anakin jerks awake in an uncomfortable looking chair. "You're awake."

Mouth dryer than cotton, it's all Obi-Wan can do to slur, "yes, it appears so."

"Here, let me-"

Anakin gets him some water, carefully helps him drink. Slowly, he takes stock of his surroundings. He recognizes the Halls of Healing. He thinks he recognizes this exact room, actually, from the time Anakin broke his leg when he was 14. His body hurts, in more ways than one, and he's hooked up to several machines and fluid drips.

The Force feels fuzzy, just out of reach, but he can still sense the wave of emotion building in his former padawan.

"What's wrong, Anakin?" He asks, once he's pulled himself together.

Anakin's eyes immediately well up with tears. "What do you remember?"

"I remember…" Obi-Wan closes his eyes, thinking. "I remember Fives. He called us, said he needed help. Something about chips. Something about- Palpatine!"

Obi-Wan jerks up and starts pulling at wires and tubes. "Anakin, Palpatine is-"

He's cut off as gentle hands, large and calloused, stop him from ripping out his IV. "Darth Sidious is dead," Anakin whispers, voice breaking.

"Oh." Obi-Wan sucks in a shuddering breath. "Oh. He's gone."

Anakin makes a pained noise and releases one of his master's wrists to tap-tap against Obi-Wan's forehead with an index finger.

"He's dead, Obi-Wan. But he's not gone."

~ DAY 813 ~

Longshot waits patiently as Obi-Wan showers, changes into night clothes, and gathers Cody's pillow and blanket from their bunk.

"Ready to go, sir?"

Obi-Wan holds the pillow closer to his chest. "Yes, thank you," he whispers.

"Of course, sir." Longshot tilts his head to the side, eyes glinting with curiosity. "Permission to speak freely, sir?"

He waves his hand. "Of course."

"It's getting bad, isn't it?" The clone's Force signature is a twisting braid of fear, pity, and respect.

Obi-Wan hums and steps forward until he's able to rest his cheek against the cool plastoid of Longshot's chest plate. "Yes. It's- Well, I think of it like fuel in a speeder. To keep it running, it needs fuel, yes?"

Longshot nods an affirmative and wraps Obi-Wan in a loose hug.

"That's what it's like." Obi-Wan sneaks his fingers between the chest and shoulder plates to grab a handful of his blacks. "Even when you have a full tank, you're burning fuel. But the closer you get to empty, the more worried you are about finding a station."

The arms around his waist tighten. “And if the tank goes dry?”

Obi-Wan makes a pained noise.

“Hey, hey, General, don’t worry. The commander will be back soon,” Longshot stammers.

The poor man is clearly out of his depth. Obi-Wan can hear the panic in his voice just as clearly as he can pick up the emotion through the Force. He’s trying to remain calm, though, and even if his actual attempt is lacking, Obi-Wan takes comfort in the effort.

He pulls back a little to swipe at his teary face. “I don’t want to hurt anyone,” he whispers.

It’s his greatest fear; that he’ll hurt one of his men. He should be ashamed of that, he knows. If he loses control, the entire galaxy is at risk. Valuing the lives of three dozen soldiers over the safety and prosperity of the entire galaxy? It isn’t the Jedi way.

He decides, tucked into Longshot’s side and breathing in the scent of GAR standard issue soap, that he doesn’t care.

That’s even worse.

“We should get going,” he says out loud to pull himself from the dark thoughts.

Longshot squeezes tightly and releases him. “Yes, sir.”

“Wouldn’t want to keep your brothers waiting.” Obi-Wan manages a smile. “They’ll eat all the good snacks.”

Laughing, Longshot leads the way into the hall. “Well, we can’t have that, General. Come on.”

Obi-Wan tangles his fingers with Longshot’s, lightsaber calluses rubbing against blaster calluses, and allows himself to be pulled along.

~ DAY 5 ~

“Where’s my lightsaber?” is the first thing Obi-Wan says once Healer Che and Master Windu finish explaining the situation.

Healer Che frowns and Mace scowls. “What could you possibly need your lightsaber for, Master Kenobi?” The older man asks, sounding equal parts perplexed and horrified.

“Don’t be absurd.” Obi-Wan struggles to sit up - stars, why is he so weak? - and is easily pushed back down by Healer Che. “If Palpatine- If Darth Sidious is inside my head, we have to stop him. If I’m the collateral to finally end him, then so be it.”

Mace’s scowl, somehow, deepens. “Even if that were the case, we wouldn’t let you do that, my friend. But it isn’t that simple. Sidious did… something to his consciousness. If his current host body -and that’s you, by the way- dies, he’ll just latch on to the next nearest Force-sensitive.”

Obi-Wan flops back against the scratchy sheets of the medical bed, all the fight flooding out of him. “Oh.”

“‘Oh, indeed,” Mace repeats.

Healer Che reaches out and pushes back the sweaty fringe of Obi-Wan’s hair with gentle, practiced hands. “Do not worry, young Kenobi. We’ll find a way to get him out. You just need to stay patient. Stay strong.”

And even as Obi-Wan pushes into the soothing touch, he can feel it.

There, at the back of his mind.

A blackhole.

~ DAY 813 ~

Curled up between Boil and Longshot, Obi-Wan is almost able to breathe properly.

They watch a few holos, all dumb, mindless comedies, and pass around snacks and drinks until they’re all warm and stuffed. Wooley finds his way to them eventually, scooting in behind them so that Obi-Wan can rest his head in the man’s lap, and it’s the gentle fingers in his hair that finally pushes him over the edge into a tentative sleep.

He dreams of-

“Anakin, no!”

“I hate you!”

-he dreams of darkness. Maybe he doesn’t dream at all. Maybe Sidious dreams and he’s simply forced to watch as all of his worst nightmares play out in front of him.

“Execute order 66.”

“Blast him!”

Maybe Sidious isn’t dreaming, either. Maybe it’s the future. Maybe it’s his future- what will come to pass when he fails. And he will fail, he knows. He isn’t strong enough to hold Palpatine off for much longer. The darkness is growing. Obi-Wan is drowning, being consumed, he can’t stop it-

“General!”

Obi-Wan blinks his eyes open.

Boil is standing in front of him, eyes wide and hand poised as if to strike. Or as if he’s already struck, Obi-Wan thinks dully, as he notes his aching cheek.

He sways on his feet, disoriented. “Boil? What’s going on?”

“General, you have to let Wooley go,” Boil instructs, voice as calm as his Force-signature is panicked.

Obi-Wan shakes his head. “I don’t understand-”

“Let him go, sir,” Boil repeats. “Please.”

He breathes, tries to take in his surroundings. Everything is dark and foggy, he can’t-

“Kriff!”

Pinned to the wall by an invisible hand is Wooley, flailing and scrambling with both hands against his neck. Obi-Wan yanks his Force-presence away from the man, so hard that he hears a few troopers behind him stumble with the backlash of it. Wooley collapses, sliding down the wall until he falls to his hands and knees, and starts taking in deep, gulping breaths of air.

Rushing to his side, Obi-Wan drops down next to him. He reaches out to touch but flinches away, leaving his hands to flutter uselessly between them. “Wooley? Are you alright?”

“Right as rain,” the clone croaks out, one hand tentatively coming up to poke at his own throat. “You okay, sir?”

Obi-Wan falls backward, stunned. “Me? Am I alright? I just- I almost-” He can’t bring himself to finish, only barely able to keep his composure as he’s hit with a wave of nausea.

“Don’t worry ‘bout me, General,” Wooley wheezes out, reaching out to pat Obi-Wan’s shoulder.

He’s stunned speechless. He feels the telltale prickle of tears in his eyes and he swipes uselessly as they begin to fall.

He and Wooley are saved from the moment by a cautious Helix, approaching so that he’s in both of their eyelines. “General? Can I…?” He gestures between them with his med kit.

“Yes, yes, of course. Please.” Obi-Wan scoots back to make room but is stopped by Wooley’s hand grabbing the hem of his tunic.

In a stronger voice than he should be able to manage, Wooley calmly states, “stay.”

“Stay?” Obi-Wan echoes, dumbfounded. “Wooley, darling, I- I hurt you. I hurt Boil earlier.”

He waves his free hand dismissively. “Nah. Wasn’t you. Not your fault that dar’jetii is stuck in your head.”

The whole room freezes. Even Helix, halfway through taking Wooley’s pulse, goes unnaturally still.

They don’t talk about it. Even Obi-Wan and Cody, when they’re curled up around each other in the safety of their bunk, don’t say it out loud. It’s the whole reason they’re here, floating endlessly through space in the far and uninhabited reaches of the outer rim, and not one of them dares to speak of it aloud.

Wooley either doesn’t care or doesn’t notice the way that the others have all gone still.

“It wasn’t you. Sidious is the one that pushed Boil, that choked me. You’re the one that’s stopping him from doing worse.” He smiles, soft and gentle in the way few clones manage to be. “Come on, sir. You could never hurt us.”

Obi-Wan’s heart feels like it’s cracking in his chest. “I don’t want to,” he whispers, so softly that he can’t even hear himself over the pounding in his ears.

“How can we help you?” Helix asks, chin tilted up in a determination that only wartime medics carry.

Shaking his head, Obi-Wan collapses in on himself. “I- I don’t know. He’s getting stronger. Even if Cody comes back in time to stop this episode, it’s only a matter of time before-”

“Don’t talk like that, sir.” Boil is there, at his elbow, touch firm and grounding. “Hey, why don’t we com General Skywalker? That always makes you feel better, right?”

Obi-Wan doesn’t have the energy to argue, so he doesn’t. He lets the men bundle him up in Cody’s blanket and shuffle him towards the rec room and tries to ignore the growing blackhole in the back of his head.

~ DAY 10 ~

Obi-Wan happily volunteers to camp out in the farthest reaches of the galaxy.

He hopes, if he’s far enough away from another Force sensitive, that the dredges of Palpatine’s consciousness stuck in the back of his mind will stop putting up so much of a fight. And sweet Force, is he fighting. Just the sight of another Jedi is enough to set his teeth on edge. Stars forbid any of them try to touch him.

It’s the worst with Anakin.

“I think it’s because you’re so powerful,” Obi-Wan explains, fingers curling tightly around the arms of his chair. “He wishes it were you instead of me.”

Anakin’s arm raises as if to grip his shoulder and, when Obi-Wan flinches back, his arm falls back against his side limply. “I’m so sorry, Master.”

“Anakin-”

“No. Don’t. Just- I’m sorry. For everything. You and- and Padme warned me about him. I don’t know how I was so blind! I’m the chosen one! I was supposed to- supposed to…”

Tears start spilling, the look of pure anguish on Anakin’s face almost enough to break Obi-Wan’s resolve. “Don’t cry, dear one,” he whispers. “Please, you’ve done nothing wrong.”

“How can you say that?!” Anakin yells, angry and raw.

Obi-Wan can feel tears of his own rising. “I love you, Anakin. Like my brother- like my own child. Please don’t make my leaving any harder than it has to be,” he begs.

“I don’t want you to leave,” Anakin sobs, all the fight going out of him. “There has to be a way you can stay. Even if I can’t- I don’t want you to be alone.”

He closes his eyes. “No. It’s too dangerous for me to stay in the Temple.”

“Wait…” Anakin perks up. He makes the same face that Obi-Wan has spent a decade dreading. It's a face that means he’s planning something- usually something foolish. “What if you weren’t alone?” He asks eagerly.

Obi-Wan sighs. “Anakin, I don’t think any Jedi will be safe around me-”

Anakin cuts him off. “Not Jedi.”

“What?” He squints in confusion. “You can’t seriously be suggesting sending me with civilians.”

Smile shifting into a smirk, Anakin pulls out his com. “Oh, I’m not thinking of civilians.”

~ DAY 813 ~

Obi-Wan relishes in the feeling in the rec room, the press of bodies, all safe and warm and together.

He’s seated on the low bench in front of the holo-table, Longshot and Wooley pressed tightly to his sides and Boil leaning up against his back, and he uses their quiet support to steel his nerves as the connection rings once, twice-

“Master!”

Anakin springs to life, too close to the recorder for Obi-Wan to see anything but his face. He’s obviously just woken up, hair flat on one side and sticking up on the other, and chest naked under his half-on robe.

He’s the most wonderful thing that Obi-Wan has ever seen.

“Anakin, dear one, how are you?” he asks, heart aching in his chest.

The other man pulls away, settling more comfortably on a low couch, and grins. “I’m good. Great. I was actually going to call you in the morning.”

“Really?” Obi-Wan leans forward a little. “About what?”

Anakin ducks his head, the last remnants of childhood shyness spreading across his features. “Well, Padme and I have some news,” he mumbles, eyes sliding to the side.

“Padme? Is she there?” Obi-Wan shifts, looking for the young woman.

She appears, one hand wrapping around Anakin’s shoulder. “Hello, Obi-Wan.”

“Hello, my dear,” he greets, unable to hide his joy. “What a pleasant surprise to see you both.”

Anakin leans back into Padme’s touch. “You, too, master. We’ve both missed you," he tells the older man.

"And I, you," he returns, finally feeling the tension in his shoulders relax.

Boil was right, this is a good idea-

"Padme is pregnant!"

Obi-Wan gasps, a cold chill shooting down his spine. Any sense of relief he had been feeling a moment ago is gone, replaced by-

“Think of how powerful such a child will be!”

Obi-Wan screams and clutches his head as a sharp pain shoots outwards from deep inside his skull. He's aware, distantly, of Anakin yelling his name and Boil grabbing his shoulders, but it's all secondary.

“It will be so easy. Skywalker will not deny us access to his family. He trusts us. He loves us.”

"No!" Obi-Wan shouts and pushes back against the blackness. Boil's hands disappear from his shoulders and he thinks he should be worried about that, for some reason, but he isn't sure why. "No! Leave me alone!"

The blackness isn't fazed. “Let us go now. Rise.”

Without meaning to, Obi-Wan pushes his chair back and stands. In rebellion, he forces himself to drop to his knees, scrambling against the cool metal floor with clammy hands.

"I won't hurt them!"

“You won't have a choice.”

The fight inside of Obi-Wan's head is torturous. It could be minutes or it could be hours. All he knows is that it hurts. It hurts and it’s hard and nothing he does seems to make a difference. The dam has broken and the blackness is pouring forward from where he locked it away. There isn’t enough light left in him to fight against it but he tries. Stars, does he try, but...

It hurts-

He pushes back-

It’s not enough-

He’s drowning-

He’s hanging on by his fingernails-

Stars and oceans but it hurts-

“General, please! Commander Cody is almost here, sir! You just need to hold on a little longer!”

Gasping, Obi-Wan latches onto that thought. “Cody?”

“Yes, Cody!” The voice is off, wheezing and pained.

Slowly, painfully, Obi-Wan drags himself back to the front of his mind. He’s still there, seething and raging, but Obi-Wan is able to push him back just far enough that he regains control of his own body. He’s… He’s in the hangar. It’s cold. They don’t normally keep this part of the ship heated to conserve power. He’s braced against a control panel and the flashing sensors tell him that he’d been trying to open a bay door.

Raising his head -despite the flash of pain it causes, no doubt meaning a concussion- Obi-Wan looks around.

Two dozen troopers are aiming their DCs at him, fingers on the trigger.

“Oh. Hello there, gentlemen,” he greets, woozy and slurred. “It looks like I’ve made a right mess of things.”

Crys rips off his helmet and staggers forward. “General? You back with us?”

“Not- not sure for how long. Status?” He presses one hand to his forehead in an attempt to still the spinning room.

The other troopers follow Crys’ example, lowering their blasters and relaxing their stances. Crys takes a few steps forward and speaks in a low, calming voice. “No fatalities. You lost control for about an hour. You- he was trying to board a ship. We’ve been able to hold the hangar bay but I don’t know how much longer we’ll be able to last.” There’s a trickle of blood coming down his temple. His expression is stricken. “Please tell us what to do, sir,” he all but begs.

“Oh, my darlings.” Obi-Wan’s heart breaks in his chest. “You know what you have to do. I’m so sorry.”

Crys’ face crumples. “Please. Please don’t make me.”

“I couldn’t live with myself if I hurt you,” Obi-Wan murmurs and stumbles forward.

He presses his palms to Crys’ cheeks, wiping away blood and tears with his thumbs. His body hurts -his bad knee especially, one of the troopers must have targeted the weakness at some point- but he can’t feel any blaster wounds.

Oh, my poor dears.

~ DAY 11 ~

Obi-Wan doesn’t like this new idea.

He doesn’t like it but he understands it.

Sending him off alone has its own dangers. Sending him off with Force-sensitives would end in disaster. Sending him off with civilians is unacceptable.

The clones though…

They’re trained for this sort of thing. They could subdue him. They know how to protect themselves.

They know how to make hard decisions.

“We’ll do what needs done, General,” Cody promises, when he’s ushered into his room in the Halls of Healing by an anxious Anakin. “It won’t come to that. But if it does, you can trust us to make the call.”

Obi-Wan practically melts back in his pillow. Even having Cody in the same room is like a balm to his soul. He needs to be sure, though. “This mission is volunteer based, Commander. Please feel under no obligation to-”

“All of the 212th has already volunteered, sir,” Cody interrupts.

From the corner, Anakin adds, “and most of the 501st.”

“Oh.” Obi-Wan has to fight away the smile that’s pulling at his lips. “Well, I’m truly honored, gentlemen.”

Cody laughs in his way, a small and contained huff of breath. “We’d be nothing but meat droids without you, sir. Taking an extended vacation is the least we can do.”

“Unfortunately, I don’t think this will be much of a vacation,” Obi-Wan tells him, wilting a little. 

The commander shifts his helmet to his other arm and reaches out to grasp Obi-Wan’s hand in a rare and coveted break from protocol. It feels- Stars, does it feel good. He sighs out loud, the blissful feeling spreading through his body and pushing the blackhole down, down, down.

When he blinks his eyes open, Anakin and Cody are both staring at him in surprise.

Blushing, Obi-Wan releases Cody’s hand to fiddle with the hem of his blanket. “My apologies, Commander. It’s just that… The stronger someone’s Force-signature, the more aggressive the reaction. And you and your brothers are so Force-null that it’s… soothing. Ah- no offense, of course.”

“No offense taken, sir,” Cody tells him, ducking his head down to stare resolutely at the tile floor. “Glad to help in any way I can.”

~ DAY 814 ~

Obi-Wan drags himself back to his quarters.

Boil is there, propped up on the couch with a bacta patch wrapped around his throat.

“I think it’s best if you leave,” Obi-Wan tells him in his best imitation of a calm Master Jedi.

Boil raises an eyebrow. “Not a chance, sir. You need me-”

“I need you to leave,” Obi-Wan snaps. He immediately winces at his tone. “I’m sorry, Boil, I don’t mean to be short.”

The clone smiles at him, an infinitely gentle thing. “I’ll forgive you, sir, seeing as it’s been a bit of a day.”

“It has, hasn’t it?” Obi-Wan smiles back, strained, and carefully arranges himself into a meditation pose.

Boil doesn’t budge from his perch. “You okay, sir? Physically, I mean,” he clarifies.

“You were gentler than you should have been,” he says, both an evasion and a scolding in one. “You carry blasters for a reason.”

The answering snort isn’t amused. “You know damn well that we can’t use the stun setting on you, General. And we’re not using live fire until there’s no other option. We’ve gone over this.”

Obi-Wan’s hands squeeze into his fists and he has to force himself to relax the rebellious muscles.

“I do truly think it’s best if you leave now, Boil. I’m going to- to try and do some Force exercises but I’m not sure how it’s going to go. Lock the door behind you. Don’t let anybody in besides Cody. And… and if I come out before Cody returns... “

He takes a deep breath and lets his eyes fall closed.

“It’s not me.”

He senses Boil standing and moving closer and doesn’t flinch at the gentle touch of fingers against his cheek. “I can stay, sir. Please let me help.”

“He’s already hurt you so much,” Obi-Wan murmurs even as he pushes into the touch.

Boil huffs a laugh. “I’d gladly give my other arm if it meant sparing you any of this pain, sir,” he whispers, so soft that Obi-Wan can hardly hear it.

“And I’d gladly take on the pain and more, if it could spare you any,” Obi-Wan returns, quickly pressing a kiss to Boil’s palm before nudging the hand away. “Go, my darling. I can’t hold him off for much longer.”

Eyes still closed, Obi-Wan isn’t forced to see whatever expression Boil makes.

“If you insist, sir.”

The hydraulics of the door sliding shut has never sounded louder.

~ DAY 35 ~

Obi-Wan’s first episode comes two weeks into their ‘retreat,’ as Anakin insists on calling it.

He’s on the com with Quinlan, sharing some information he has about a crime syndicate that the Shadow is supposed to be infiltrating, when the blackness starts to rise up like a lazy predator animal. He feels it batting at his shields, teasing him, like he’s a prey who’s serving as both entertainment and the eventual meal.

“If you’ll excuse me, Quinlan,” he says, standing on unsteady feet.

Even with the grainy quality from their bad connection, Quinlan’s frown is obvious. “You alright there, Obi?”

“Yes, just fine,” Obi-Wan assures him with a weak smile. “Simply tired. I believe I’m going to retire early.”

He doesn’t look happy with the explanation but bids him a good rest and disconnects the call without any argument, leaving Obi-Wan to lean over the holo-table and suck in labored breaths.

He doesn’t know why he feels so physically exhausted but it can’t be good, he reasons, and decides to bite the blaster-bolt and go find Helix.

He hasn’t made it ten feet into the hallway when he comes across Crys, who pops out from behind a control panel. “Oh! Hello, General!”

“Hello, Crys,” Obi-Wan greets in return, smiling at the other man. He opens his mouth-

And then swallows his request awkwardly.

Ever observant, Crys quirks a blond eyebrow. “Is everything alright, sir?” He asks, head tilting to the side.

“I’m just…” Obi-Wan trails off and taps his forehead. “Bad day, I suppose.”

Crys’ Force-signature cringes a little but he remains outwardly calm. “Oh! How can I help?”

“Help?” Obi-Wan repeats, feeling a little lost.

The clone nods, an amused twinkle flashing behind the worry in his eye. “Yes, General. Help? I’m pretty sure my mission brief was one sentence long. Something along the lines of ‘provide support for General Kenobi’?” He quotes in what most clones consider to be their ‘Jedi’ voice.

“Ah, yes.” A laugh bubbles out from Obi-Wan’s chest despite the pressing darkness. “I suppose I’m not used to being the mission objective just yet.”

Crys tugs off his welding gloves and drops them into the toolbox at his feet. “Well? Where were you headed, sir? I’ll walk with you.”

“I was going to find Helix. Maybe ask for something to help me sleep. I’m hoping that this is a classic case of ‘you’ll feel better in the morning’.” He explains, gesturing vaguely towards the freighter’s modest med bay.

Nodding, Crys toes his toolbox up against the wall. “After you, sir. Shall I com the commander?” He asks as they fall into step.

“No. He’s in a meeting with the other CC’s, I’d rather not bother him.” Obi-Wan explains and then, tentatively, bumps his shoulder against Crys’.

The clone leans into the touch without comment and, immediately, the inky black pressure in his mind starts to fade. It helps so much, in fact, that he almost changes his mind about asking Helix for the sleeping aid. The medic frowns when he hesitates in the door of the med bay, however, and Obi-Wan caves and asks for the weakest dose possible.

It takes effect almost immediately.

He must be more tired than he thought-

Thinks are growing hazy-

Things are growing dark-

Wait, no-!

Obi-Wan wakes up pinned underneath a panting Cody. There’s blood drip-drip-dripping from his nose, staining Obi-Wan’s ripped tunic. His body hurts. As he comes further into consciousness, he notes that he’s still in the med bay. Over Cody’s shoulder, he can see Helix, one arm hanging limply, obviously dislocated at the shoulder, and the other holding an empty hypo.

Must be adrenaline, he realizes from the pounding of his heart in his chest.

And in the corner, lying prone and still- oh stars, too still-

Obi-Wan rolls out from underneath Cody and scrambles frantically on his hands and knees.

“Kriff, Helix, hit him again-” Cody is yelling, making a grab for his ankle.

Obi-Wan doesn’t pay attention to that. “Crys!”

He pulls the lax trooper into his arms. He tries to feel for a pulse but his hands are shaking too bad to feel anything. Crys’ bright yellow hair is stained red, blood still fresh and oozing from a wound at his temple.

“Crys! Crys, wake up!” He demands, curling around the man. “Please wake up!”

“General-” Cody’s hand goes lax around his ankle and moves to grip his shoulders.

Under Obi-Wan’s hold, Crys starts to shift. All three of the men hovering over him gasp in relief.

Weakly, Crys coughs and blinks his eyes open. “So, I guess the sedative was a bad idea?”

All of the air leaves Obi-Wan’s lungs as he lets out a wet laugh. Cody’s forehead drops forward so that it’s resting against his back.

“Yes.” Helix slides down the wall until he’s sprawled out next to them, bad arm cradled in his chest. “Yeah, the sedative was a very, very bad idea.”

~ DAY 814 ~

Obi-Wan falls into a light meditation and does everything he can to keep the blackness at bay.

He tries thinking about raising Anakin first. It’s the greatest joy of his life, after all. He latches onto the first specific memory that comes to mind, a rather unremarkable trip they’d taken to the markets a few levels down from the Temple. They’d ended the day with ice cream and Anakin had fallen asleep on Obi-Wan’s lap on the transit ride back, sticky hands twisted up in Obi-Wan’s robes.

Except the Obi-Wan in his memory doesn’t press a gentle kiss to Anakin’s forehead. He… He calmly wraps a hand around his throat and squeezes-

Obi-Wan pulls himself from the memory with a sharp tug.

“So, no Anakin then,” he mumbles and dives back in.

This time, he plucks up one of the few pleasant memories of the war. He and Cody had excused themselves from the men’s celebration -they’d won back a valuable front with no casualties thanks to some lucky intel- so they could let loose without their superior officers watching over them.

He remembers inviting Cody back to his quarters, pulling out a bottle of wine he’d stashed away-

Except he’s pulling out his saber instead.

Cody has a sardonic little smirk on his usually stoic face. “What’s that, sir?”

“A little surprise,” Obi-Wan teases, and ignites his saber. “And I’d prefer it if you call me ‘my lord,’ Commander.”

That’s… that isn’t what he’d said! He’d asked him to call him Obi-Wan! They’d shared the bottle of wine and fallen asleep on his couch, shoulder to shoulder.

This isn’t right.

Obi-Wan tries to jerk himself from the memory -from his meditation all together- but he overshoots and falls farther, farther, farther into the darkness-

“Hello, young one.”

Rushing to his feet, Obi-Wan tries to take in his surroundings over the rising cloud of panic. He’s… he’s nowhere? He’s standing in the middle of a large, stretching meadow, with fog eerily curling around him as far as the eye can see. And in front of him, in all of his gentle, grandfatherly glory, is Sheev Palpatine.

Obi-Wan stumbles back and raises his arms into a defensive pose. “This isn’t real,” he spits immediately.

“Ah, of course it isn’t,” Palpatine agrees easily. “This meadow is an illusion. We’re still in your quarters. I just wanted to speak with you, dear.”

His stomach rolls at the endearment. “I have nothing to say to you.”

“That’s perfectly understandable.” His head tilts to the side, the gesture gentle but his gaze cruel. “You only have to listen. I have decided to offer you a compromise, my child. We’ve reached a stalemate in terms of sharing our body-”

“My body!”

“-and I think I’ve come up with a brilliant solution,” he continues, as if Obi-Wan hadn’t interrupted.

He doesn’t drop his cautious stance. “For some reason, I doubt this is coming from the goodness of your heart.” He keeps his voice polite, overly so, in just the way he knows politicians hate.

“You wound me, young one,” the older man says, pressing a weathered hand to his chest.

Obi-Wan arches an eyebrow. “Am I wrong?”

Palpatine’s façade melts away a little, his Sith-yellow eyes glowing in the twilight of the foggy meadow. Slowly, he steps forward until they’re close enough to touch.

“Let me out,” he hisses, breath warm against Obi-Wan’s face, “or every one of your precious troopers will be dead by the cycle’s end.”

And the thing is… Obi-Wan knows that letting any of his desperation show will only give Palpatine more power. But they’re his men. He’s the reason they’re out here. They’ve given up the first two years of their freedom, of their new lives, to protect him. To keep him company. To comfort him.

They’re his.

“Please!” Obi-Wan drops his defensive stance to something more open. “Please, they don’t have anything to do with this.”

Palpatine’s eyes fade back to a comforting brown. “But they’re keeping us apart, young one.”

“They’re only doing what they’ve been told,” he says defensively.

The Sith steps back, lips twisting up in a sympathetic expression. “Yes. That is a soldier’s way, isn’t it? Unfortunately for them, they've been too competent by far. So, once again. Either you give me what I want willingly or, when I take it -and we both know that I will, eventually- I kill them all on my way out. Please-” And here, Palpatine dips his voice low, as if he were begging Obi-Wan. “Please, don’t make this any harder than it is already going to be,” he pleads.

“But- But…” Obi-Wan feels dizzy. “This isn’t right. I can’t let you-”

A soft, weathered hand brushes Obi-Wan’s cheek. “You’ve fought so valiantly, my child. You’ve done well. But aren’t you tired? Don’t you miss our dear Anakin?”

“I- I miss him. I miss all of them,” Obi-Wan admits, heart squeezing in his chest.

Palpatine nods, eyes understanding. “Of course, you do. We can visit them. You and I, that’s all. Nobody needs to be hurt,” he whispers soothingly.

“Visit… Anakin?” He repeats, feeling dazed. Why can’t he focus? “I… I miss Anakin.”

Fingers run through his hair. The sensation isn’t pleasant, not like when Cody helps him sleep. Cody -and all of the vode , for that matter- have a firm, grounding touch. They scratch short fingernails against his scalp and rub the pads of their fingers along the nape of his neck. This is… different. Long fingernails catch in his hair, leaving sharp but negligible pricks of pain in their wake. The touch itself is too light, leaving him swaying- though if he’s moving forward for more pressure or trying to escape altogether, he can’t be sure.

He feels so confused-

And then a voice, so close it might as well be inside his own mind-

“Let me in, my child.”

Obi-Wan just can’t fight anymore.

Chapter Text

~ DAY 123 ~

Last night was… bad.

He’d clung to Cody like a child for hours, crying into his neck and begging for help with the never ending, building pressure he’d been feeling from inside his skull. Cody had held him, comforted him, ran strong fingers up and down his back and whispered words of encouragement until he’d finally drifted off into a deep, unremarkable sleep.

Now, blinking awake to dimmed lights, Obi-Wan feels a sudden wave of embarrassment. He shifts and is immediately stilled by a hand in his hair.

“You okay?” Cody asks him.

Obi-Wan presses his face into the thick thigh under him. “I’m sorry. For last night.”

“Don’t be sorry,” Cody soothes. “It was a bad one. I want you to come to me when it gets like that. You don’t have to wait for a vod to find you hiding in the laundry room.”

He tilts his head so that he can peek with one eye. “It’s been four months, Cody. Four months that you and your brothers could have spent enjoying your life as free men. Instead, you’re forced to-” A hand is slapped over his mouth, cutting him off abruptly. 

“Stop talking that way,” the younger man says, sounding legitimately cross the way he used to so often and so rarely does now. “You saved the galaxy-”

“That was really more Fives and Ventress-”

“You saved the galaxy,” Cody repeats as if Obi-Wan hadn’t spoken, “and even if you hadn’t, we’re-” He cuts himself off, swallows. “The vode care for our Jedi, sir. Being here for you is no hardship,” he finishes.

Obi-Wan sits up and squints. “What were you going to say?”

“I don’t-”

“Please tell me?” He asks, voice coming out slightly more desperate than is dignified.

Cody sighs and shifts his gaze away and back a few times. Reluctantly, he says, “we’re… friends. Aren’t we?”

“Friends,” Obi-Wan repeats, a wide smile suddenly pulling at his features. “Yes. Yes, I’d say we are. On one condition, Commander Cody.”

Lips pulling at the corners, Cody manages to keep a straight face purely thanks to a lifetime of military discipline. “And what could that possibly be, General Kenobi?”

“Don’t you think- That is, would you please call me Obi-Wan?”

“Yes. Yes, I can do that, Obi-Wan.”

~ DAY 814 ~

Obi-Wan is aware of his body in the same way a child might be aware of politics. It’s a thing, yes, but he has no frame of reference for it, no interest in it, and, even if he did, he wouldn’t have a chance in hell of doing anything about it anyways.

“Ah, yes, that’s better.” That… that’s his voice but it’s definitely not him. He watches as his arms stretch and twist and feels a laugh come from deep in his chest. “Stars above, Kenobi, what have you done to your joints? You’re barely forty!”

The sarcastic retort comes out before he can stop himself. “Yes, well, I’ve spent a lot of time on my knees.”

“Charming as always. Shush now, my child, I have an Empire to reconquer.”

And then Obi-Wan is promptly shoved away, into a small, black corner of his own mind.

~ DAY 278 ~

This is, quite possibly, the worst episode that Obi-Wan has had since the first few weeks.

He’s so far from his body that he might as well be a fly on the wall for all the good he’s doing. He’s thrashing against the two troopers holding down his arms -Wooley and Crys, he thinks- and trying to buck off Cody, who has him pinned at the chest. He doesn’t even remember what triggered it now, only something about… elections? Bail Organa’s name is on the tip of his tongue and he isn’t sure why.

“Stop! Obi-Wan, you have to stop!” Cody is shouting. He looks- scared, maybe? Angry? “Please! Just- ah, kriff!”

Obi-Wan manages to jerk an arm from Wooley’s hold and he swings his elbow across Cody’s face with more strength than he’s used to having. He can feel something shatter and he doesn’t care if it’s his radius or Cody’s eye socket.

He has to go.

He has to- He has to…

This isn’t right. He’s supposed to be fighting- well, he doesn’t know what it is, but he knows it’s bad. Evil. Dark.

“The dark side of the Force is strong.”

He gasps, his memory flickering. “Stop him!” He shouts, seizing violently against the pressure building in his mind. “He’s- he’s close, please!”

“What do you need?” Cody is still pinning him even though his left eye is rapidly swelling shut.

Obi-Wan pushes the words out behind gritted teeth. “I- I don’t know! It’s- There’s no light. There’s nothing left, Cody, please,” he pleads, already feeling his consciousness slipping away again-

Light.

Even before he can catalog the sensation, Obi-Wan is already being pulled from the darkness and towards the light. It’s soft and warm and infinitely, tentatively pleasant. It’s good.

And, once Obi-Wan is firmly in control of his own body enough to start registering it physically, it gets even better.

Cody is kissing him.

Blaster calloused hands are cupping his cheeks and chapped lips are pushing against his, unskilled but eager. Obi-Wan squirms to try and get closer but, when Crys and Wooley tighten their hold on him, he forces himself to go lax.

Reluctantly, he lets his lips fall from Cody’s. “I’m- I’m good. Hold on. Just… just give me a minute.”

Slowly, Crys and Wooley release his arms and, without their support, he flops back against the cool floor. He’s hit with a wave of physical exhaustion so intense that he can hardly keep his eyes open. Cody, still perched over him, looks equally as exhausted and twice as beat down.

“Sorry ‘bout your face,” he mumbles. “Did I- hurt anyone else?”

Cody shakes his head. “No, just me.”

“Excuse me!” Wooley sputters indignantly. “What about the emotional toll I just suffered? Watching my general and commander kiss?”

Crys elbows him in the gut. “Shut up, di’kut! ” He hisses before turning a blinding smile towards Obi-Wan and Cody. “Congrats, sirs. We all kinda suspected but we won’t tell anyone if you don’t want us to.”

“You… what now?” Obi-Wan slurs, already losing touch with reality.

Cody laughs and rubs his thumbs gently along his cheeks. “Don’t worry about it, cyare. Sleep. I’ll take care of everything.”

The last thing Obi-Wan hears before he drifts off is Wooley making a cartoonish gagging sound and Crys’ happy laughter.

~ DAY 814 ~

Obi-Wan doesn’t know how long he’s- how long he’s gone.

When he finally comes back to himself for a single, flickering moment, it’s in the middle of their freighter’s cockpit. There’s the familiar twinge of a blaster shot in his left shoulder and at his feet-

Crys is staring up at him, face swollen beyond recognition and life draining from his eyes.

Obi-Wan screams and loses his grip on consciousness immediately 

~ DAY 341 ~

Obi-Wan and Cody have had a… complicated relationship. 

For the first half dozen campaigns they ran together early in the war, Cody had kept a carefully constructed wall between them. Obi-Wan knows now, in hindsight, that this was due more to the training and expectations given to him on Kamino than anything himself or the other Jedi had done. Still, he’s always felt bad that he hadn’t done more in those early days to make his commander feel more at ease.

It had started slowly at first, sharing his name and actually taking an ‘at ease’ order at face value. And before too awful long, they were, if not friends, then at least brothers-in-arms, with all the accompanying trust that comes with surviving day after day at each other’s side.

Obi-Wan had always known that they could be more. And he’s sure that Cody had felt it too. But Obi-Wan had always been a Jedi first and foremost and Cody was the highest ranking vod in the GAR. He couldn’t afford to be anything less than perfect- if not for his sake, then his vode’s.

So, they ignored it. 

But now, the only responsibility on their shoulders is to keep Obi-Wan sane. And who will care? Who has any right to care?

With that in mind, it’s easy -so unbelievably, laughably easy- to lean in and press his lips to Cody’s.

“I love you.”

“Ner’cyare.”

After all, it's not the first time he’s failed the Jedi Order.

~ DAY 814 ~

Obi-Wan knows that he’s a failure.

He was hardly Force sensitive enough to be found by the Seekers. He was sent to the Ag-Corps because he wasn’t wanted as a padawan and, when he was finally chosen by Qui-Gon, it was only out of obligation and pity. He failed Anakin as a master, in ways too numerous to count.

So, is it any surprise, really, that he’s failing the galaxy once more?

He watches as his body flings another trooper aside and begs the Force to, at the very least, put him out of his misery.

~ DAY 563 ~

Obi-Wan doesn’t realize how much things have changed until Fox meets them in Wild Space, over a year after they left Coruscant.

He and Cody have to go over the preliminary proposal for the vode’s freedom and they decided that it’s best for Fox to come to them instead of Cody making the trip to Coruscant. They've all been… nervous, about the visit, but Obi-Wan insisted that as long as it’s only vode, it’s fine.

And it is fine, for the most part.

They greet Fox and two of his men in the hangar bay just before midmeal. Their shuttle is a cheap, busted old thing and Cody laughs like a school boy as he teases his brother.

“Where’d you get this thing, Fox’ika? The junkyard?” He throws a slow punch that the other man easily deflects.

In retaliation, Fox swipes at Cody with both hands. “It reminded me of your ugly mug, I couldn’t leave it behind.”

“Very funny,” Cody says dryly and uses Fox’s lunge as an opportunity to tug him into a hug. “I’ve missed you, vod.”

Obi-Wan grins, enjoying the pleasant swirl of emotions coming off of his normally serious commander. He waits, patient and content, while the two batchmates move from hugging to roughhousing again, Cody grappling slowly and Fox striking softly. It doesn’t take long for them to make their way to where he’s leaning against the control panel and Fox pulls away from his brother to give a relaxed but respectful salute.

“General,” he greets, exterior calm but Force-signature tinged with nervous anticipation.

The Jedi wonders, briefly, what’s being said about him back on Coruscant.

He carefully shows no outward sign of discomfort. “Commander Fox. It’s a pleasure, as always. Thank you for making the trip out,” he says, desperately earnest.

“Of course, sir.” Fox relaxes slightly and shoots a mischievous look at Cody. “I’m at Marshal Commander Kot’ika’s beck-and-call, after all.”

Cody shifts, trying to look annoyed, no doubt, but only coming across as fond. “Please, you’d do anything to get more time away from that political hellscape.”

“You’ve got me there, Kot’ika,” Fox agrees and runs a hand through his hair.

It’s gray at the temples, something none of the other vode are sporting yet- not even the other commanders. And there are matching lines around his mouth and eyes that age him. He looks older than Jango Fett ever did, Obi-Wan thinks, for all that he's still a few biological years younger. Even his eyes look older, dark and sad.

He’s struck with the urge to apologize, suddenly. He should have caught on to Palpatine’s plot sooner, should have seen what was happening to the vode, what was happening on Coruscant- 

It’s so obvious, in hindsight- 

Everything was so dark-

Everything is still so dark-

Obi-Wan squeezes his eyes shut. There’s a pressure, building in the back of his mind-

He fumbles with both hands, grabbing onto the bright flicker in front of him. It’s an easy, familiar gesture and it’s the work of seconds to worm his way into Cody’s space, face pressed into the man’s neck and hands tucked firmly into the gaps between his chest and shoulder plates.

He feels a bare hand settle in his hair and start rubbing against his scalp. “Easy, I got you.”

“I’m sorry,” Obi-Wan stammers. And to think that they once called him the Negotiator. “Sorry, sorry, I’m trying-”

A quick, dry kiss to his forehead. “None of that. You’re doing so good. Can you tell me where you are?”

“Our ship. Hangar.”

“And what’s going on?” Cody prompts gently.

Obi-Wan huffs in a breath, the scent of Cody and their freighter a comforting familiarity. “Commander Fox is here. We’re about to take him for midmeal and then go over the proposal.”

“Good, that’s right.” Another kiss, this time to the top of his head. “Do you want Fox and his men to leave? Is that what's wrong?”

He shakes his head, slowly enough that he doesn’t dislodge Cody’s hand in his hair. “No. No, it’s fine. Just got too deep.” He lolls his head to the side and blinks his eyes open. “I apologize for the… the scene, Commander Fox,” he murmurs, contrite and embarrassed when he finds the other man openly staring.

Fox’s features shift quickly into neutrality, but it does nothing to mask his Force-signature. Fear, pity, guilt, and a strong swell of confusion are all pouring off of him in waves, filling the hangar like a dark, oily film. Obi-Wan whimpers and presses his face back into Cody’s neck.

It hurts, it hurts-

“Sh, I know it does,” Cody soothes, his physical body and his presence in the Force both strong and steady. “Fox, you need to calm down,” he snaps over his shoulder, tone shifting completely. “You’re stressing him out.”

Fox scowls. “What? I didn’t do anything!”

“You’re unhappy, he can feel it,” Cody spits back.

“I can’t help that!”

“You better or it’s going to set off an episode!”

“A what?”

“Just- happy thoughts, Fox!”

Obi-Wan whines when frustration seeps into the storm of negative emotions and he scrambles against Cody’s armor, trying to get closer, trying to make it stop-

“Fox, I’m serious! A happy memory, something!”

“Fine! Just- fine!”

It’s getting darker, thicker- Cody’s a steady pillar but his hands are slipping, he’s falling-

Light.

Obi-Wan lets go of Cody with one hand to grab onto a second flicker of light. They let out an ‘oomph’ but don’t offer any resistance when yanked closer. Careful not to release Cody, he blindly tugs until he’s wedged pleasantly between the two vode, plastoid chest plates cool against each of his cheeks.

The light grows, flickers, and Obi-Wan hums in relief when the darkness subsides enough for him to ground himself back into the physical world.

“There, see?” Cody sounds relieved.

He must have worried him, Obi-Wan realizes. He'll apologize later.

The other vod -Fox, Obi-Wan remembers- sounds apprehensive. "How often does this happen?"

"Not much, anymore." Cody is running his fingers up and down the Jedi's back. "We've pretty much figured out his triggers by now."

Fox shifts and places a soft, tentative hand on Obi-Wan's nape. He sighs in pleasure and pushes back into the touch. "And is… this always the solution?" He asks, perplexed.

"A variation of it. Pleasant emotions in the Force and grounding physical touch. He doesn't usually get that bad that fast, though," he says, a hint of worry in his tone.

Obi-Wan forces himself to straighten a little. "Sorry. ‘M sorry. It’s- goin’ away. Just ‘nother minute. Sorry.”

“Don’t worry, cyare. Take your time.” Cody’s grip tightens around his hip and Obi-Wan lets the man take some of his weight, breathing in and out slowly.

Over his shoulder, with a hand still awkwardly resting on Obi-Wan’s neck, Fox’s Force-signature tinges with amusement. “Yeah, don’t worry, General Kenobi,” he says, stressing Obi-Wan’s title oddly.

“Fox,” Cody growls in warning. “Now is not the time.”

His brother only huffs in amusement. “Sorry, Kot’ika, couldn’t resist. Is there… anything else we can do? To help him?”

“Obi?” Cody’s hand shifts back up to tug oh-so-gently at his hair. “Anything else you want? I can take you to your quarters? Get you some tea? It’s still the day cycle on Naboo right now, we can com General Skywalker?” He offers, lightly nudging their little trio towards a bench.

Obi-Wan hums noncommittally and allows Cody to arrange them so that they’re all sitting comfortably. Obi-Wan is still pressed between the two of them, back to Cody’s chest and head on Fox’s shoulder, legs tangled between someone’s armored thighs. He’s hit with a wave of fatigue suddenly -he always is, after an onslaught like that- and he knows it won’t take much to tip him over the edge into a safe, light sleep.

Shifting so that his forehead is pressed to the exposed skin of Fox’s neck, Obi-Wan wraps his arms around the pliant vod beneath him. “Tell me what you used earlier? Your happy thoughts?”

“Um.” Fox stiffens slightly but still seems calm enough when he says, “I was thinking about a sim our batch won, back on Kamino.”

Cody huffs and Obi-Wan feels another soothing wave of pleasant emotion. “Against 17 and Prime?” He sounds amused and fond and the Jedi sighs in contentment.

“Yes.” Cautiously, Fox starts to run a hand through Obi-Wan’s hair. “Do you remember when you-”

He’s cut off by Cody, who makes a choked noise. “Can we please not?”

“What?” Obi-Wan blinks his eyes open and stares owlishly up at Fox.

And Fox, the poor bastard, has no tolerance built up for Obi-Wan’s pout. He’d practically worn down all of the 212th back during the war, but those that have stuck with him the past two years have learned to look away from the wide, blue stare if they want to stand any chance. Fox, though…

“He bit Prime,” he reports without hesitation and then immediately frowns, as if he hadn’t meant to say that. “We were four,” he continues, now obstinately ignoring both Obi-Wan and Cody’s stare.

Smart man.

Obi-Wan shifts to look up at Cody instead. “You bit Jango Fett and lived to tell the tale?” He asks, barely able to tamp down his grin.

“We all looked identical back then,” Cody hedges, looking annoyed but indulgent. “Once the sim finished, he demanded to know which one of us it was but… none of them ratted me out. It was our first time standing together as vode and I think Prime was impressed enough to let it go.”

Laughing softly, Obi-Wan abandons Fox altogether to climb into Cody’s lap and rest his head on the man’s shoulder. He’s tired, the exhaustion hitting him full force now, and all he manages is a mumbled, “well, you’re very impressive.”

“Go to sleep, Obi-Wan,” Cody murmurs, close to his ear.

He does.

~ DAY 814 ~

His men finally start firing when he manages to engage one of the x-wing’s loading protocols. 

Even from the tiny part of his mind that he’s been shoved into, he can feel the way it tears at their souls to take aim against him. They’re in as much agony as he is. And, unfortunately, it’s far too late. His body can take a few blaster bolts -nothing he hasn’t taken before- and they don’t manage to incapacitate him before he’s safely behind the airlock shield.

“General!” Boil screams, voice ragged and tears streaming down his face. “General, you have to fight him!”

~ DAY 563 ~

Obi-Wan wakes in his bunk, curled around a vod. Longshot, he realizes, when he reaches out to prod at their Force-signature. He grunts, stretches, and then worms closer to the column of warmth perched on the edge of his bunk. Longshot doesn’t react much, just allows Obi-Wan to move him around until he’s comfortable and then goes back to reading on his datapad.

After a few minutes of silence, Obi-Wan mumbles into Longshot’s hip, “what time is it?”

“Twenty minutes until late-meal,” the clone tells him, voice pitched soft. “The commander said to let you sleep.”

Obi-Wan wiggles one hand free from his nest of blankets and reaches a hand up to scratch at Longshot’s grown out curls. “Are Commander Fox and his men still aboard?”

“Yes, sir.” Longshot tips his head back so that Obi-Wan doesn’t have to stretch his arm so much. “They’re all with Commander Cody. They apologized for… for earlier.”

With a sigh, Obi-Wan sits up a little. “They have nothing to apologize for. If anything, I should apologize to them.” He grimaces as he remembers how bad of an episode he’d had in front of their guests.

“Don’t be ridiculous, General. We- Well, we don’t understand, obviously, but we know that this is… difficult on you. We all appreciate it. And if anybody gives you a hard time, let me know,” Longshot tells him, oddly solemn.

Obi-Wan bumps shoulders with the clone. “And what will you do then, my dear?”

“Tell them to go kriff themselves, obviously.”

A laugh is tugged from him without his permission and Obi-Wan falls into Longshot’s side, giggling with abandon. Longshot cracks, too, and they spend a few minutes laughing until their sides hurt.

Eventually, Obi-Wan pulls himself together enough to ask, “have you eaten yet?”

“No, sir.”

“Would you like to accompany me to mess, then?”

Longshot grins, wide and easy. “Yeah, ‘course, General. I’d love to.” 

“Great.” Obi-Wan rolls to his feet and jerks this thumb over his shoulder. “Just give me a minute in the ‘fresher.”

Once he’s tucked away in the safety of the refresher, Obi-Wan takes a minute to splash his overly warm face with cool water and stare at his reflection in the mirror.

He looks… worn down. He doesn’t look anything like the knight he’d been before the war. The wrinkles around his eyes and gray hair at his temples make any impression of youth impossible. He doesn’t even look like the once great General Kenobi either, for all that his men still insist on using the title. He’d been exhausted during the war, often sporting hollowed cheeks from lean rations or bruised eyes from late nights, but he’d still been himself. He’d still had a strength to his shoulders that he’s now lacking. He’d been just as pale then -he always has been- but he’d also been covered in sun kissed freckles, along the bridge of his nose or down his arms. Now, months without the sun have taken their toll on him, leaving his skin washed out and pasty.

He’s pulled from his reverie by a quick knock on the door. “General?”

“One moment!” He calls back and hastily dries his face and straightens his robes.

Outside, Longshot is reclining against the wall, a smile on his lips and a worried glint in his eyes. “Are you alright, sir?” He asks, no hint of his Force-signature’s stress in his voice.

“Of course,” Obi-Wan agrees and flashes him a quick smile. “I’m always alright.”

Longshot stares for a moment but doesn’t argue.

When they arrive, they find the mess hall practically full, every vod besides for the active-duty pilot and navigator spread out across the tables and milling in line to pick from the limited meal options. Obi-Wan takes a minute to just breathe in, filled with the same blissful sense of relief he always is when surrounded by his men. And there, as he closes his eyes-

“Cody!”

Obi-Wan is all but falling over himself as he stumbles across the room. The commander meets him halfway, easily taking Obi-Wan’s weight as the Jedi flops against him, butting his face into the man’s neck. 

With a laugh, Cody leads them back to his table. “Hello, Obi-Wan.”

“Hello, Cody,” he returns and happily worms his way onto the bench so that he’s tucked under the clone’s arm. “What’s for dinner?”

Cody snorts. “Pijali burgers and Corellian hash. I got you extra sauce,” he says and slides a plate over.

“Mm.” Obi-Wan straightens a little to pull the plate in front of him. “I spent time on Pijal as a padawan, you know. Fell in a gundark pit,” he adds, unable to hide the nostalgia he feels for his old life, before the war, before… this.

Fox, from across the table, raises an eyebrow in question. “How old were you?”

“Hm… seventeen, maybe? Almost nine, in a vod’s time.”

The man’s expression shifts to poorly concealed amusement. “So, you’ve always been a danger magnet, General?” He asks, shooting a pointed look at his batchmate.

“Me?” Obi-Wan presses a hand to his chest and gasps in mock offense. “I have no idea what you’re talking about, Commander Fox.”

Cody sighs and picks up a fry, just to stick it into Obi-Wan’s open mouth. “A danger magnet and a liar, apparently.”

Obi-Wan smirks around the mouthful of food and sinks back into Cody’s side, letting the conversation wash over him like pleasant waves. He’s… happy. Still worn, still tired. But here, tucked against Cody and surrounded by his men’s happiness, the darkness from earlier seems so much less oppressive.

He finishes his food and dozes off again and isn’t surprised when he wakes up a few hours later, with his head in Cody’s lap and familiar hands in his hair.

~ DAY 814 ~

Obi-Wan flutters back to consciousness and is immediately aware of the ghostly sensation of long fingers pulling at his memories. Pulling himself as forward as he can in his prison of a body, he realizes that he’s seated in an x-wing and that his hands are struggling with the ship’s controls.

The absurdity of it hits him and he laughs, sharp and hard. “What’s wrong, Sidious? Never flown before?”

“Silence, you worthless scum!” The dark presence snarls. “Of all the pathetic creatures that I could have inhabited, it had to be the most worthless Jedi your precious Order has ever seen.”

The insult stings more than it should, considering, and Obi-Wan uses it as the foothold he needs to lock up his body as much as he can. “If you’re looking to use my muscle memory, I’m afraid you won’t have much luck. I haven’t flown an x-wing in years and even then, I was never a particularly gifted pilot,” he drawls, putting on his most unaffected tone.

The ghostly hands in his mind grab and tug and Obi-Wan shouts in pain. He struggles not to flicker back into the ephemeral state Sidious seems to have made for him and, in a moment of pure, blind desperation, an idea comes to him.

If he times it just right… If he can gain control of his body back for just a single moment…

As naturally as possible, he allows a memory of Anakin showing him how to use a militarized x-wing to surface in his thoughts. Sidious cackles in delight as he -painfully- jerks on the memory and within seconds, the laser barrier is deactivating and the x-wing is pulling out into the breakaway space outside of their freighter.

Voice as sweet as rotten fruit, Sidious gives him the mental equivalent of a pat on the head. “Thank you, my child, for all the help. Now, if you’ll excuse me-”

“Actually, Lord Sidious,” Obi-Wan interrupts. “I’ve had quite enough of this.”

And then, with all the determination in his mind and the strength in his body, he slams the heel of his bare foot against the cockpit’s oxygen tank. It sputters and hisses, flooding the small space with the precious gas immediately.

Sidious screams and Obi-Wan is hit with a wave of pain so intense that he loses his tentative grip on reality.

His last thought is a swell of pity for whatever poor soul that Sidious latches onto next.

~ DAY 804 ~

“I’ll be fine,” Obi-Wan repeats for what feels like the hundredth time. “Really. You should be where you’re needed.”

Cody stares at him with his large, solemn eyes. The clones are- well, clones, obviously, and there is little deviation in their physical appearance. But some of them -Cody, Fox, Howzer- seem to hold such a profound sadness in their eyes that it sets them apart. It pains Obi-Wan in ways he can’t name that he’s adding to that pain.

With a sigh, Cody drops his gaze, letting his head fall into his hands. “I know. I know I have to go. It’s just…”

“You worry,” Obi-Wan finishes when it’s clear he isn’t going to continue.

Cody nods. “I’ve spent my whole life worrying. For my vode, for the war, for restitutions. Hopefully soon, the only thing I’ll have left to worry about will be you,” he jokes weakly, still not looking up.

“I understand what it is to worry, my dear,” Obi-Wan murmurs and tangles his fingers into Cody’s short, still-regulation curls. “But you can’t spend the rest of your days as my stress ball on this freighter.”

Nodding, Cody tilts his head to press a quick kiss to Obi-Wan’s wrist. “I know. I know that. I’ll go. Fox has everything ready. I’ll only be away for a week. Ten days at most.”

“Exactly. Ten days, my love.”

Cody pulls Obi-Wan down by the collars of his robe for a proper kiss, presses their foreheads together for a long moment, and then grabs his bag and strides away with the purpose of a leader.

Obi-Wan watches him go and tries to ignore the pit in his stomach.

He’s fine.

They’ll be fine.

Chapter Text

~ DAY 814 ~

Obi-Wan wakes up in a lot of pain, considering he’s supposed to be dead.

The first thing he’s aware of is that he’s sitting in the burning wreck of a ship. The crackle of fire in his ears and the heat against his skin are almost as unmistakable as the smell of burning plastoid and starship fuel.

Anakin is never going to let me live this down, he thinks in a wave of dismay before remembering.

Anakin’s not here.

Obi-Wan’s not supposed to be here.

Anakin is on indefinite leave with Padme on Naboo, working with mind healers and doctors to fix the damage that Sidious inflicted on his mind over the past fifteen years. And Obi-Wan is supposed to be dead. He was supposed to choke to death as his stolen x-wing floated out into space. And- and Sidious should be latching onto some other poor soul right now.

But even thinking of his name pulls the demon forward.

“What have you done?” The Sith snarls from inside Obi-Wan’s mind. “You fool!”

Obi-Wan sluggishly forces himself to start undoing the cockpit straps. If he’s not dead right now, he certainly doesn’t want to burn to death before he can figure out why. “As much as I’d love to take credit for foiling another of your plans, I have no clue what happened.”

Sidious continues to scream but Obi-Wan manages to block him out in favor of trying to free himself from the increasingly warm ship. But his fingers don’t seem to want to work and there’s sweat gathering on his brow and dripping in his eyes-

“Kriff,” he mutters to himself and draws on the Force to ignore the flames licking at his calves. “Kriffing bantha shit-”

All at once, there’s a sudden swell in the Force and the hatch of the x-wing is torn away. Obi-Wan shields his face instinctively and blinks away the sudden light from his vision. He doesn’t know where he is, he doesn’t know what’s happening-

But he can feel another Force-sensitive, something he hasn’t felt in over two years. Who-?

A gloved hand reaches into the cockpit. “Need some help, Obi?”

“Quin!” Obi-Wan gasps even as he’s latching onto the offered arm. “What’s happening?”

With a grunt, the other man manages to pull Obi-Wan free of the cockpit. “Escape impending fiery doom now, talk later,” he hisses as he wraps one arm around Obi-Wan’s torsos and uses the other to lower them down the nose of the wrecked ship.

“Right, of course,” Obi-Wan agrees and makes a pathetic attempt at holding on even as the feeling of such a strong Force-sensitive touching him fills him with a cool dread.

As soon as they’re both on the ground, Obi-Wan jerks away from Quinlan’s touch and crumbles once his bare, burned feet hit the hanger floor.

Everything hurts. He can feel a few blaster wounds on his back and burns from the ship on his legs and feet. He thinks his right heel is fractured from where he kicked the oxygen tank out and-

A flicker in the Force, a little ball or relief drowning in a sea of anxiety-

“Cody!” Obi-Wan fumbles up and staggers across the hangar towards an achingly familiar armored silhouette. “Cody!”

They collide in a painful shatter of limbs and Obi-Wan almost sobs in relief as Cody tosses his helmet aside and pulls him in until they’re forehead to forehead. “Cyare. Ner’cyare. I’m here. I’m here, it’s okay.”

“Cody,” Obi-Wan repeats, breath starting to slow. “Cody, what’s happening?”

Pulling back just enough to speak, Cody's dark eyes start rapidly flickering over Obi-Wan’s face. "I don't know. I was coming in on my shuttle and you were preparing an x-wing for take-off and- and then General Vos-”

“I rammed you back into the freighter!” Quinlan announces, a fake smile on his lips and worry in his eyes.

Obi-Wan arches an eyebrow at him. “How very resourceful, Quinlan,” he mutters sarcastically, leaning more fully into Cody’s side.

“It was better than letting him take you,” Cody snaps, anger overriding his fear for a moment. “What happened? I talked to you yesterday, you said things were fine.”

Wincing, Obi-Wan squeezes his eyes shut. “He- I was- Anakin said-”

“Hey, sh, I’m sorry,” Cody immediately soothes. “It’s fine. We’re all here, we’re all fine,” he continues, hand stroking firmly through Obi-Wan’s messy hair.

He shakes his head. “No, it’s not- I’ve lost, Cody. You have to do something. Now. He’s going to be back soon and I don’t think I’ll be able to stop him again! I can’t- I can’t-” He chokes and starts crying again, the oily feeling in his mind rising and rising the more he starts to panic.

“That’s why we’re here,” Quinlan murmurs, hovering a few feet away. “The healers at the Temple did it. They’ve cracked Sidious’ incantation. It’s over. You’re safe.”

Even before the words register for Obi-Wan, Sidious is howling in outrage. He beats against the thin, pathetic shreds of Obi-Wan’s shields so hard, he physically collapses, hands going to head as the world around him melts down to nothing but the mental connection burning like lightning in his mind.

Sidious’ laugh is as sharp as knives. “You’ll never be free!”

“No! No, I won’t let you,” he grits out, forcing himself to keep his eyes on Quinlan and Cody, both sliding across the hangar floor from a Force push that he doesn’t remember.

Oily fingers in his hair, sharp nails against his scalp. “Oh, my child, you don’t have a choice.”

And Obi-Wan tries -with all of his might, he tries- but he is simply too beaten down. Sidious rises from where Obi-Wan had fallen and stalks, slow and measured, towards where Cody and Quinlan are scrambling for coverage.

“Obi-Wan!” Cody yells, still helmet-less and bleeding from a small laceration on his forehead. “Just one more time! Fight him off one more time!”

His hand makes a grabbing motion and Cody is jerked into the air, hands moving to scramble at his neck. “Ah. You’re the one who has caused me so much trouble,” Sidious remarks as if commenting on the weather.

“Put him down, Sith.” Quinlan ignites his saber and assumes a blocking stance, eyes narrowed in concentration.

Sidious cocks his head. “And what are you going to do, little shadow? Strike down your beloved creche-mate?” He drops Cody in favor of spreading his arms wide. “I hear you’ve been dabbling in the dark arts with Dooku’s little pet. Show me.”

“Don’t-” Cody, even as he struggles to catch his breath, is staggering to his feet. “Don’t kriffing touch him, Vos.”

And then, to Sidious’ delight and Obi-Wan’s horror, Cody levels his DC at the Jedi.

“He’s not himself, clone, ” Quinlan hisses. “I’m only doing what Obi-Wan would want,” he tries to reason, carefully shifting his stance so that he’s facing Cody instead.

Sidious is all but cackling, overjoyed at the darkness and chaos swirling around the hangar. But inside his mind, Obi-Wan feels like he’s shattering into a million pieces. He can’t think of a worse final moment than this, watching two of his dearest loved ones hurt each other for his mistakes and weaknesses.

He has to stop this.

With every scrap of determination he’s ever possessed, Obi-Wan drags himself to the front of his mind. “Quinlan,” he gasps. “Cody. Stop, both of you.”

“Obi-Wan?” Cody’s posture melts into something cautious and poised. “Is that you?”

He nods. “Yes. I don’t know for how much longer, but-”

“Now!” Quinlan shouts and, without a second of hesitation, abandons his standoff with Cody to leap forward in a Force jump until he’s standing scant inches from Obi-Wan’s face.

He jerks back a step. “What are you-”

“Fight it, Obi-Wan.”

And then, in his peripheral vision, a streak of white and red plastoid followed by the press of cool metal around his neck-

“Hello there, Commander Fox,” Obi-Wan slurs before his world lights on fire.

It’s as if every nerve in his body is a live wire. He thinks he might be screaming but he’s so far removed from his body that the sensation is as insignificant as a drop in an ocean. The only thing he’s truly aware of, besides for his own pain, is that Sidious is suffering tenfold.

It feels as if he’s being separated, molecule by molecule. Being pulled apart at every level of his physical and mental existence. He so desperately wants to drop into the blackness and just rest-

“Fight it, Obi-Wan!” Hands on his face, as familiar as his own, stroking his cheeks. “Come on, cyare, you have to push him out!”

It hurts-

More hands, gloved and large, pull his head back gently and tug at the band at his throat. “We have to keep him awake.”

“Is it working?” The first voice asks, sounding angry in a way that means he’s scared.

Gloved hands wander from his neck to his temple. “I’ve never done this before, I can’t- Kriff! He’s got to stay awake. If he lets Sidious take over, this will kill them both.”

He’s being torn to pieces-

“Obi-Wan?”

“Cyare, you have to wake up!” The familiar hands are back, tugging more insistently. “Please! I need you to be strong, just one more time.”

Under his skin, his blood feels like lava. He knows he’s supposed to be doing something, something important, but he’s so tired and it hurts-

A third voice, the same as the first but different, draws near. “Happy thoughts!”

“What?! Fox, he-”

“That’s what you told me when I was here last year. You said he needs happy memories when he’s having an episode.”

He’s freezing-

“This isn’t a normal episode-”

“Do you have a better idea?”

“Haar’chak! Okay. Okay, happy thoughts.”

He’s burning-

“That’s a good idea, Foxy. In fact, spread the word. There’s got to be an intercom on this ship, right? Get every brother on the ship on it. Me and Codes will stay here with Obi.”

A head buts up against his forehead and fingers tangle into his hair. It feels soothing, in a way, but it does nothing to stem the flow of agony running through his body.

“I’m here. Ner’jetti. I- I know that you don’t think of yourself as a Jedi anymore but... that’s who I fell in love with. I was told my whole life that you’d be a powerful warrior, a general in a noble war. But from the moment I met you, it was the Jedi, not the general, that I wanted to follow.”

There are tears against Obi-Wan’s cheeks but he’s not sure whose.

He’d rather be dead-

“Do you remember the first time we met?” A wet sigh. “I was promoted to Marshal Commander under General Windu. He said he was transferring me to lead the 212th under you.”

Blackness, blackness, blackness-

“He said… He said you needed a commander who would balance you out. He said we’d be a good team.”

It hurts, it hurts, it hURTS, IT HURTS-

“And when he introduced us, you… You looked me right in the eye even though I had my bucket on. Nobody does that. And General Windu said, ‘this is the commander I’ve been telling you about, Obi-Wan, and he's the most competent professional you'll ever meet, so good luck charming him into submission.' Do you remember what you said back?"

Does he…?

"Come one, cyare, I know you're in there. What's the first thing you said to me?"

The forehead pressed against his bumps almost painfully. The hand in his hair spasms.

"You'll… you'll find…" Even speaking hurts.

But there's a brief flicker in the Force. "Keep going, cyare," Cody urges.

"You'll find…" Obi-Wan swallows down something salty in his throat. "You'll find I'm not nearly as charming as all that."

Cody laughs and the Force responds with a brilliant spark. "Yes! Yes, good job. And you were wrong. I was charmed immediately. I didn't fall in love with you then, not quite that soon, but I knew you were the Jedi I wanted to follow."

Obi-Wan tries to reach for the golden thread coming from his love but- but he's still not strong enough-

From behind him comes more light. Quinlan looks like he's meditating but Obi-Wan can hear the distant pitter-patter of children’s feet and the pleasant tinkle of one young boy's laughter and another's anxious shushing. Desperately, Obi-Wan sucks up that light as well, using it as tinder to stoke his own flames.

And slowly, from all over the freighter, come more tendrils of golden light. The sound of a tattoo gun, the press of bacta cool fingers on his cheek, the smell of armor polish and men's sweat. It's every happy moment and every loving thought, all being streamlined into his viens like spice to an addict.

He gasps and brings his hands from where they've been clutching at his temple to tug at the band around his throat. It's growing hot- excruciatingly so, even as the all encompassing pain he's feeling starts to fade. So hot, in fact, that he starts to smell his own flesh burning against the red hot metal.

“Kriff! Vos, what’s it doing?” Cody’s light blinks out with worry and Obi-Wan whines at the loss.

Quinlan, too, goes dark around the edges. “That means it’s working. You heard what Jacosta said. It will fall off on its own if it works.”

“It’s burning him!” With a firm grip, Cody pulls Obi-Wan’s hands away from the collar. “Sh. It’s almost over. Just a little more, Obi-Wan.”

Obi-Wan latches on to Cody’s hands. “Hurts,” he whimpers weakly. “It hurts. Can’t- I can’t-”

“I know, cyare.” Cody sounds on the verge of tears himself. “But you have to be stronger.”

Over his shoulder, Quinlan’s breath catches in his throat. “Come on, Obi. Can’t you feel it? All of your men are here for you. It’s so bright in the Force on this freighter that it feels like a sun. Tell me you feel it?”

The echo of dice against a hangar floor. The feeling of a plastoid pauldron pressed against each of his shoulders, steady and reliable. The almost acrid smell of burning sugar-

Obi-Wan is suddenly pulled into a memory.

He recognizes it immediately- it’s something he’s looked back on a hundred times. But now he’s seeing it from a different angle. He’s looking at his own face and he’s sure he doesn’t really look like that. In this memory, his wrinkles make him look dignified and respectable instead of worn down and aged before his time. His sun burnt skin looks charming instead of painful and his eyes are glistening with a humor that he had thought he was keeping to himself at the time.

He’s holding his lightsaber out, extended under a line of speared Chrisofi apples. It’s cooking them slowly, the sugary juice dripping from the fruit and sizzling against the blade.

“General.” Cody is pacing the opening of the canyon that they’re camping in. Whoever’s memory this is must be two or three generations younger than Cody, because he’s looking up at the man with a sense of ingrained respect only found in younger brothers. Oblivious to his vod’s gaze, Cody spins on his heels and levels a look at Obi-Wan. “With all due respect, sir, we don’t have time for this.”

Memory-Obi-Wan smiles softly -stars, does he really look like that?- and pats the rocks next to him. "You worry too much, dear commander. Come have a seat."

"Sir-" Cody tries to protest.

Obi-Wan cuts him off. "Please, Cody? It'd make me happy if you sat and enjoyed an apple with me and our men."

And in that moment, a young vod feels true contentment for the first time.

Obi-Wan opens his eyes and the metal collar falls to the floor.

~ DAY 20 ~

"Well, what do you think, sir?"

Cody and Obi-Wan are standing side by side in the Jedi Temple's docking bay, staring up at the demilitarized freighter they've been given for their next -and, optimistically, their last- assignment. 

After a long beat of silence, Obi-Wan turns to look at Cody instead. "I'm going to ask you and our men one last time to reconsider this, Commander."

"Consider it reconsidered," he responds dryly. "We're not leaving you, General."

Obi-Wan frowns. "There's no need to address me as such, Commander. I'm not a general anymore. I'm… I'm not even a Jedi," he adds, so quiet that Cody wouldn't have heard it without his bucket's audio.

"Just because you're not a general doesn't mean you're not still our general."

Obi-Wan smiles, small but genuine, and Cody nods to himself.

They'll get through this.

~ DAY 815 ~

Obi-Wan wakes up and two things are immediately apparent.

One? Everything hurts.

Two? He’s alone.

Blissfully, silently, totally alone. He feels like he’s been carrying a rucksack of rocks for so long that the sudden absence of it is leaving him off kilter. He feels like he’s floating in a sea that he’s spent a lifetime drowning in. He feels-

“Thirsty, General?”

Obi-Wan blinks his eyes open to see Helix leaning over him with a -rather familiar- cup of ice chips. “What…?”

“Easy,” the medic commands and carefully spoons a mouthful of the ice chips into Obi-Wan’s dry mouth. “Just breathe for a minute, I’ll answer all your questions.”

He swallows and hums in relief. “What happened?”

“That’s… a loaded question, General,” Helix hedges and his eyes flicker to the door.

Obi-Wan struggles to sit up. “Tell me. Did I- Is anyone-” He can’t finish, can’t even begin to ask how much damage he did.

“He didn’t kill anyone while you were gone.” Helix places a firm hand on his shoulder. “Everyone is going to be fine.”

He practically sobs in relief. “I thought- Crys-”

“Bacata tank. I’m keeping him under until we can get to a medical facility. He needs more help than I can give on the ship but he’ll be fine. I promise.”

At that, Obi-Wan does start sobbing. Heavy, body wracking sobs that sends shockwaves of pain through his abused body. Helix doesn’t speak, only leans over the bed to tuck Obi-Wan into his side and run fingers through his hair in a soothing pattern.

“What’s going on- Obi-Wan!”

“Cody!” Obi-Wan jerks out from under Helix and flails, reaches-

In half a dozen quick strides, Cody is at his side and climbing onto the medical cot, seemingly oblivious to both of their injuries. “I’m here. I’m here, cyare. It’s over. You did it.”

“Is he-” Obi-Wan fumbles blindly, fisting his hands in Cody’s blacks and pressing his face into his neck. “Is he really gone? What happened?”

Cody presses kisses to Obi-Wan’s hair and forehead. “He’s gone. Or- He’s imprisoned for now. We’re twelve hours from docking at the Jedi Temple and General Yoda will make sure he’s gone for good,” he explains.

“The Temple?” Obi-Wan sucks in a few heady breaths.

Pulling back a few inches, Cody nods. “Yes. What all do you remember?”

“Um…” Obi-Wan chews in his lip. “I remember… Anakin telling me that he and Padme are expecting a child. It gets fuzzy after that. I remember almost- Crys was-”

“Sh. He’s going to be okay. Keep going, what else?”

Obi-Wan tries to slow his racing thoughts. “I sabotaged an x-wing. I thought I was going to choke in space. And then… I have flickers. You. Was… was Quinlan here?”

“I’m hurt, Obi.”

Obi-Wan’s head snaps up to find Quinlan Vos slouching in the doorway and Fox at his elbow. “Quin!”

“Hey, Obi,” the other Jedi says softly and enters the room looking oddly tentative for how boisterous he usually is. “Good to see you feeling like yourself.”

Rolling his eyes, Obi-Wan relaxes more fully into Cody’s embrace. “Likewise. Can you… explain where he went?” He asks, hand rising unbidden to press against his throat.

There's a scar there, thick and tender, that wraps around the column of his neck.

“Jocasta rigged up what’s basically a reverse holocron.” Quinlan elbows Fox, who is still standing at his side. “Me and Foxy here hitched a ride with Cody after he left Coruscant. It was supposed to be a pleasant surprise. Turns out it was a very timely stroke of luck.”

Obi-Wan takes that in for a moment and then, oh so carefully, stretches out with the Force.

It’s the first time he’s allowed himself to do so since the beginning of this whole disaster and he winces a little at the sudden onslaught of sensations and emotions but it’s also freeing in a way he can’t put into words- almost like the pleasantly painful sensation of rubbing at a healing bruise.

It also means that he can reach towards Cody’s light, instead of desperately waiting for it to reach him on its own.

Against his hair, Cody hums. “Is that you?”

“Yes.” Obi-Wan happily pushes more fully against Cody’s Force-Null signature. “Is this alright?”

Cody presses their lips together in a slow and gentle kiss. “It’s perfect,” he murmurs.

“I can’t believe you’ve been stuck on a freighter with them for over two years like this,” Fox mumbles, presumably to Helix. “Disgusting.”

Pulling away, Cody glares at his brother. “Shut up, Fox’ika. Not all of us get off on-”

“Aaaaand that’s enough of that!” Quinlan cuts in, slapping his hands together loudly in the cramped space.

Obi-Wan quirks an eyebrow but, when he opens his mouth to tease his crechemate, all that comes out of his a chest wracking cough. The pain in his throat brings tears to his eyes and he pushes carefully at the sore skin. “The holocron?” He guesses, gaze shifting between Quinlan and Helix.

“Yes,” the medic agrees, lips twisting down in a frown. “I’ve been trying to treat it like a normal burn but you know how it is with jetti osik. It keeps reopening.”

Cody gently pulls Obi-Wan’s hands away from the wound. “It’s alright. We’re almost to the Temple. General Vos-”

“Please don’t call me that-”

“General Vos,” Cody repeats, ignoring both Quinlan’s protest and Fox’s huff of laughter, “has General Bant on stand by in the Halls of Healing. You’ll be back in fighting shape in no time.”

Obi-Wan slowly forces his muscles and mind to relax. “The Temple,” he repeats.

“The Temple,” Cody agrees. “You’re going home, Obi-Wan.”

Home.

Obi-Wan smiles.