Chapter Text
Obi-Wan swallows thickly, sadness clouding his features again. “I’m sorry.” He says.
Cody shakes his head, so achingly fond of his idiotic Jedi. “It’s fine, Obi-Wan, I get why you did it, and why you went about it as you did.”
“No, I-” Obi-Wan starts, the words seemingly jumbling in his throat. “Not that.”
“Then what?” Cody asks, the hairs on the back of his neck standing on end. Something isn’t right
Obi-Wan reaches out his still bandaged arm, moving oh so slowly to brush his fingers over Cody’s cheek, tenderness bleeding out of the touch, dragging his hand up to trace Cody’s scar. “I know you’re important to me.” He starts, voice quiet and shattered. “I know you’re important, and I know this was for you, and I’ve hurt you. I’ve hurt you, and I’m so sorry, but I don’t know your name.”
Cody stops breathing. His entire body goes shockingly numb. “What?” He hears himself ask, far away.
Obi-Wan runs his fingers down Cody’s scar again. “I know you’re important.” He says, begging Cody to believe him. “You’re important.” Tears start to well in his eyes. “I just don’t know your name. I don’t-” Tears stream down both of their faces silently as they stare at each other, both hoping for answers. “I don’t know who you are.” Obi-Wan admits.
It doesn’t make sense in Cody’s head. It’s like trying to make himself believe Kamino is a desert planet. He stares at the man in front of him, takes in Obi-Wan’s unchanged bluegrey eyes, his red hair and beard, his pale skin and freckles, and thinks, ‘I know him.’ And he does, he knows Obi-Wan. And he knows Obi-Wan is not lying. Cody is staring at the man he loves, and the man looking back is staring at a stranger.
“Cody.” He chokes out, distantly, still trying to understand his reshaped galaxy. “My name’s Cody.”
“Cody.” Obi-Wan breathes out, reverent, like his name is a holy thing. There’s still tears running down his face, but he manages an upward turn of his lips. “Hello.”
Cody’s fingers itch, uncaring that the rest of his body is still numb. He doesn’t know what to do. Everything he’s done alone in the last nine months: stood up against a Sith Lord, took care of his vode, ran a battalion alone, has now become the leader of his vode, everything he’s done in the last three years: became Marshall Commander, kept up with Jedi and gained their respect, fought Grievous and Ventress and millions of clankers. Everything Cody has done in his life, every choice he’s had to make in a split second, life or death things more often than not, everything he’s faced, pushing away his fear until after the fight, and he has no idea what to do in this moment.
Instinctively, he reaches to comfort. Sees the sorrow and fear in Obi-Wan’s eyes, and moves to pull him into a hug, as he would with a vod, despite the Kaminoans who futilely tried to force comfort out of them. As soon as he steps forward, Obi-Wan steps back, a dance they were never supposed to dance.
Obi-Wan locks himself up in front of Cody’s eyes. With his step back, his arms curl back in, hands on opposite elbows as Cody knows so well, spine straightening and walls coming down in his eyes. Obi-Wan glares at him with wariness and anger and fear that has never before been directed at Cody.
“Obi.” Bant calls from her spot in the corner. Cody had forgotten about her in his paradigm shift, and his mouth twists as he realizes she had just witnessed his fumble, his new untrustworthiness, a burning brand he’d forgotten the pain of. Slowly, Obi-Wan turns to face her, Cody still visible in the corner of his vision. “Cody’s okay. You said it yourself, he’s important. I let him here because- he’s okay.” As she talks, Bant approaches the pair of them. “Why don’t we all sit back down?”
Cody thinks Obi-Wan is about to refuse her, his shoulders still a taut line, leaning oh so noticeably away from Cody, but eventually he concedes, sinking back onto the couch, mindful of his battered body. With a fortifying breath, Cody sits in the chair on the opposite side of the coffee table, and Bant sits on the couch as well, almost as far from Obi-Wan as she can get. And then awkward, dangerous silence stretches out. Bant stands again, reaching out to Obi-Wan and recoiling in one jolting, half conscious movement. “I’m gonna get you something to eat, Obi.” She glances between him and Cody, saying, “Go easy on him,” and Cody can’t tell which of them she’s addressing before she heads to the kitchen.
Obi-Wan stares at him, fingers curling and twitching and picking at each other in his lap. Worried. Cody tries to put himself in his shoes. Fails. Finally, Cody asks, “How do you know I’m important? You said you don’t know me but you know I’m important. What do you mean?”
Obi-Wan glances away and back to him again, those familiar eyes still searching and searching for something, for everything. “I’ve got these ghosts, I suppose. These glimpses of- of people. I know they’re important. I know these- I know they’re why I did what I did, and they’re why I can’t remember them, and they’re why I was-.” He flinches at himself, words clipped halfway through. “Your scar.” He states, shrugging with false ease. “I saw your scar. I remembered it, and your orange.” He pauses, but Cody doesn’t have an immediate response. “I like the orange, by the way. Feels warm.”
“So you recognize me, but you just don’t know me?” Cody asks, as if it’s ‘just’ that simple.
“Like meeting someone from a picture for the first time.” Obi-Wan answers.
Cody leans forward, noticing the twitch of Obi-Wan’s thigh, and puts his elbows on his knees, chin dropping onto his fisted hands. “I know you.” He says. He doesn’t really know what else to say.
Obi-Wan’s smirk is sudden and sharp as he shakes his head. “I doubt that.” He speaks over Cody’s indignant sputter. “Maybe the me from before. The me that remembers you. But not anymore.” He looks Cody in the eyes. “I suppose I ought to be sorry for that, but it’s hard to be sorry for something I don’t remember. But I’m as sorry as I can be.”
‘What now?’ Cody thinks. He repeats it out loud. Obi-Wan keeps staring at him, and Cody tries not to feel like prey being stared down by their predator.
Obi-Wan jerks his chin towards the tv, where the inside of the Senate building is being shown. “Tell me about that. Bant said things have changed, but hasn’t said how.” He grins shark-like again. “I think she’s worried about setting me off. But I want to know. What happened? What’s happening?”
This, Cody can do. He can tell Obi-Wan his own plan, he can tell Obi-Wan how all of his hopes and plans have come together. (He won’t tell Obi-Wan how his own life wasn’t part of the plan past this point.) He tells Obi-Wan about the Senate, and Organa and Amidala. Tells him about Mandalore and the Corps, and the vode spreading out across the galaxy very soon, like sprouting buds on a tree. He tells him about the meeting with the Jedi. When asked, Cody tells Obi-Wan about the Ghosts, explains who is who, and has to do the same for the Jedi. He has to tell Obi-Wan who Helix and Longshot and Waxer and Boil are. Who Windu and Koon and Yoda and Ti are. (He doesn’t know how to tell Obi-Wan about Skywalker and Tano, his own family, so he doesn’t.)
Bant brings them both soup as he talks, bland but warm, and eventually calls for Cody to leave, saying Obi-Wan needs rest, who had slowly been drooping into the couch as Cody talked and talked and told him things he was already supposed to know. It takes effort for Cody to stand and head towards the door, that fear of Obi-Wan disappearing like a mirage even more prominent than it had been while he was asleep.
At the door, he and Obi-Wan just stare at each other again. The silence is pervasive, an unwelcome and unexpected guest that Cody wants to shoo out the door ahead of him but doesn’t know how. He and Obi-Wan had never had uncomfortable silence before. Finally, because he has to, because he’d rather die than force anything on Obi-Wan, he says, “If you don’t want to see me again…”
“I do.” Obi-Wan says quietly. “I know I’m not-”
"I don’t care.” Cody wills Obi-Wan to believe him. “It’s weird, and it’s… Even if you’re different, even if-” he swallows down a sudden lump, “even if you never remember me. We can move forward.”
The muscles in Obi-Wan’s jaw clench. “Well it would be boring if I only talked to Bant for the rest of my life.”
Bant’s yell of ‘hey!’ comes from the kitchen, and Cody chuckles.
“I’ll be back, then.”
Obi-Wan nods, and shuts the door as Cody retreats back into the city and back to his brothers.
“What do you mean he doesn’t remember?” Longshot asks. His vode don’t comment on how his voice wavers.
“I mean he doesn’t remember.” Cody answers. His vode also don’t comment on the roughness in Cody’s voice, the tears still running down his face telling more than Cody’s words do. “Anything. Anyone.” His voice cracks on the last syllable.
Helix shoots Crys a scathing glare as he reaches for the rotgut that he withers under. “The brain is a complex thing, Cody.” Helix says mildly.
“Save it.” Cody bites. “I already got the lecture from Bant. He could be completely fine in time, or it all could be gone forever. The Sith bullshit complicates matters. Hard to fix something when you don’t know how it’s broken.”
“So he could stay like this?” Waxer asks Helix. “And we- we’ll just be strangers?”
Helix sighs. “The sentient body wants to be in good condition, it will try to fix itself. Humans are known for finding patterns, and processing info at a faster and grander scale than many other species. Kenobi was sound of mind and body before everything, and, let’s be real, he’s one resilient fucker. I can’t account for any of the Sith shit, but if this was a case of just plain old amnesia, I would say with the correct stimuli and patterns, and working with Mind Healers - and most importantly he needs to have a desire for recovering what he’s lost - there is a chance he could recover some memories, but there’s also the matter of short term, long term, declarative, and non-declarative memory. The type affected tends to be due to the part of the brain injured, and for him to lose at least three of the four isn’t a good sign. It doesn’t seem he’s lost non-declarative, but if he has, we might be dealing with an entirely new person.”
“So...?” Waxer prompts.
“So, I don’t know.” Helix answers. “It’s severe, and I have no idea how to account for Sith stuff, but Kenobi has resources, even if he doesn’t know it, and he’s tough. I- I want to say there’s a good chance he’ll remember something, but it wouldn’t surprise me if he never remembers anything from after the war started.”
“But,” Boil says, “that includes us.”
Helix shrugs helplessly, sighing again.
It takes effort to return to Obi-Wan’s little apartment the next day. Not as much as it did to bodyslam a Sith Lord, but a considerable amount regardless. He pauses in the alley, the door looming above him, and really, really contemplates his life, and his wants. He was built to care for and protect his vode and his General, and he’s dealing with his vode surprisingly well. Cody is the unspoken ruler of his family, and not because he forced his way into the position. He is hopeful for their futures, wherever they are in the galaxy, hopeful in their ability to move forward and bloom into something wonderful, so that crosses the first half of his life’s mission off the list. His General… is no longer a General. None of the Jedi are. And… his General is, well. His General never came back from that solo mission. His General was declared MIA months and months ago, and nothing has changed that. And his General was his hidden, childish, unknown, hopeful future, in whatever form his General would grant it to him.
Cody could walk back down this alley, back to his brothers and put this stranger out of his life. Cody could follow his vode to Mandalore, or travel. He’s always wanted to travel. Cody’s General is dead, and all that’s left is a stranger with a face Cody loves so much. A stranger with a lilt to his voice Cody could pick out in a crowded ballroom (has picked out in a crowded ballroom). A stranger with nimble fingers Cody had dreamed about, with freckles he had memorized, with a sharp look in his eyes that sends a thrill up Cody’s spine in anticipation. A stranger that still took his tea the same way Cody’s General did.
There’s hope, Bant and Helix had said as much. But little, they’d said that too. There’s a chance Cody will never be remembered. Cody’s been a lot of things, but to those he loved, he’s never been forgotten. He was forgotten because he was loved. He is alive because he was loved, and is not a mindless slave to a Sith Lord because he was loved. Was. By a man that may never return.
Could Cody go in there, and suffer the silence? The flinches and the distrust? The absolute, genuine, unknowing? He could walk back to his vode; never see that familiar stranger again. But, he knew he couldn’t. He could never turn his back on his vode, or his General; and he can’t turn his back on this fragmented man, for jumbled reasons Cody still can’t pick apart into formed rationale. His feet take him up the stairs, and his hand knocks on the door.
The bedroom door is closed when Bant lets him in. She looks tired, and Cody wonders if it wouldn’t do her some good to at least go for a walk. “Cody.” She greets, voice dull despite her smile.
“Hi, Bant.” It’s then he notices the closed door. “How is he?” Sharp worry keeps his voice low. How he ever contemplated walking away, he doesn’t know.
Bant glances at the door too, a frown further wrinkling her face. “He didn’t think you were coming back.”
“I said I would.”
“All he remembers is being alone.” Bant offers apologetically. “We’ve got to rebuild everything with him, Cody. That includes our trust and our character.” She gestures him into the kitchen where a kettle has freshly boiled. “He’s been meditating a lot, but it feels strange. He might be trying to remember, but I don’t know. I don’t know if he should be pushing like that if he is.” She pours out three mugs as she talks. “Would you bring him some tea? I’ve been trying to get his body readjusted to eating regularly, but it’s an uphill battle. It’s amazing how fast a body can fall into a routine, but how slow it falls out of it.”
Cody nods, and they let the tea steep.
“Cody?” Bant asks.
Cody keeps his eyes on the mugs, watching as the tea steeps out like tentacles. “Yeah?”
“What’s your plan?” At Cody’s questioning noise, Bant continues, “When you were talking with Obi, you said your brothers have a few different options going forward, but you didn’t say which one you were going to do.”
“Oh.” Cody reaches for the sugar and cream, loading his mug up with both. “I don’t know, Bant.” He makes Obi-Wan’s tea as well, tossing both tea bags out.
“Because it depends on Obi?” Bant stares at him, forcing him to confront her.
Cody shrugs. “I had hopes, I suppose. But this is reality.” He grabs both mugs and heads for the bedroom, knowing he’s walking from one unwanted conversation into another. He knocks on the door before entering, and is greeted with Obi-Wan sitting on the bed in a modified meditation pose.
Obi-Wan’s eyes fly open as Cody steps in, body preparing for trouble as it tenses and his hands clench into fists. Cody stands in the doorway, flower covered mugs in hand, weaponless and dressed in civie clothes stolen from his vode, and meets Obi-Wan’s blazing eyes. Cody can see the moment Obi-Wan recognizes him, body going forcefully lax. “Oh.” He says, the fire in his eyes dulling with a blink. Cody watches as Obi-Wan packs himself up, tucking this new version of himself back behind his physical form, so close yet so far from looking like a relaxed Jedi Master. “It’s you.” The minute upturn of his lips Cody thinks is genuine. “Cody.” As is the need to confirm Cody’s identity, something new and unknown after two years of living side by side.
“Hi.” Cody tries to stay relaxed, nodding his head to his hands. “Bant made tea. Can I come in?” He hadn’t asked for express permission to enter Obi-Wan’s room since about halfway through their first year working together.
“Of course.” The exact same words Cody received every time he had asked. Cody sits in the chair, handing Obi-Wan’s tea to him, and then that suffocating silence joins them in the room.
“Bant says you’ve been meditating a lot.” Cody grabs at straws.
Obi-Wan hums. “It’s a complicated matter.”
“How so?”
Obi-Wan doesn’t immediately answer him, and Cody can’t help but slightly wilt back into the chair. Hopelessness claws at the walls Cody erects in his mind against it. “Sidious had a chokehold on the Force, and with his death it immediately began to reshape itself. I am trying to keep up with it.”
“But?” Cody presses. A lesson from so long ago slides into his mind, a time and place for every conversation; but he can see there’s more to grab here.
Obi-Wan studies him, and Cody has a distinct feeling he’s being thoroughly judged. He must pass whatever test Obi-Wan gave him, as, slowly, he continues. “But, I am… unmoored. The Force is… it can be a tumultuous thing, and many require an anchor to settle within it comfortably.”
“And you’re anchorless?” Cody asks. He thinks he understands what Obi-Wan is saying, he’s held a river stone once with more Force sensitivity than he himself possesses.
Obi-Wan grins. “Quite.”
“So what can you use as an anchor?”
Obi-Wan’s grin falls. His fingers dance along the mug he still hasn’t drank from. “I’ve no idea.” He all but whispers. “I’m sure there was one. But I don’t remember.”
Cody sips his tea, mind chugging. “What does an anchor need to have?”
“I don’t know!” Obi-Wan spits out, a lash at Cody he sees through. Cody’s General had explained meditation to him once, how the world and the Force can be too much and it gathers in a mind and in a heart. Through meditation, Jedi can create a mesh in their beings and filter out the unnecessary and unwanted to prevent overflow. Overflow, for a powerful Force sensitive, is a very dangerous thing, and Obi-Wan is very close to overflowing, with no way to filter it all out. Cody’s General had had a sensible not-quite-fear of overflow, an understanding of the hurt that could come from it. That doesn’t mean Cody ever learned about anchors.
Logically, an anchor is a heavy, sturdy thing that will keep a floating object in place without causing any injury to the object. Something unchanging, something that won’t break or slide or fall apart, something that could weather a storm and keep its attached object safe.
“Could you use a person? Latch onto their Force signature and stretch out from them?”
“You want me to use you as an anchor?” Obi-Wan’s voice carries no emotion, but his eyes betray his confusion and uncertainty.
“Could you?”
“I don’t know.”
“Would you try?” Cody presses. He makes himself recognize the destruction Obi-Wan could cause unchecked. Of course, Cody’s General had always carried a potential for devastation with him, but his General was also his own best safeguard. Cody doesn’t know if Obi-Wan would, or could, reign himself in without help.
Obi-Wan narrows his eyes at him. “I don’t know you.” It’s not accusative, just a statement. A fact. “I would rather not meditate with a non Sensitive stranger, Cody.”
Cody swallows painfully, takes a drink of his tea. “Then maybe we should get to know each other.”
Obi-Wan lets out a single little ‘hah!’, and finally takes a sip of his tea. “There’s not much of me to know, Cody.” There’s only nine months of a person sitting in front of him. Cody remembers the first time Obi-Wan had asked him about himself; sure, there was ten years of experience, but it was training and tests and learning, and not much else. He remembers feeling insubstantial standing next to his General, who had lived such a dynamic, long life.
“Well there’s a lot to know about me.” He will do everything he can to keep this conversation going, to keep it light and interesting and enjoyable. He will banish Obi-Wan’s self-deprecating thoughts with fake cheer alone if he has to.
“Really?” Obi-Wan drags the word out, apparently recognizing the game they’re playing. “And what do you think I ought to know about you?”
“Well, the important stuff, obviously.” Cody smiles at him. “Like my favourite colour.”
“Pink. But only that burnt pink you see in a sunrise.” Obi-Wan says it without hesitation, and then both of them realize what he had just said. They stare at each other, both of their mouths dropped open until Obi-Wan covers his with the back of his hand.
“Little gods.” Cody breathes.
“I-” Obi-Wan starts and stops. “Is- is that true?”
“Yes.” Cody remembers the conversation well, because he’d been so afraid of his General poking fun at him, like the few vode that knew his favourite colour did. His General had laughed, but it was because his favourite colour was the orange of a sunrise. Apparently, it was entirely coincidental that his battalion was also orange, though Cody doesn’t know if he ever truly believed that; though Cody doesn’t know if the paint on his own armour that looks like the arms of the sun is coincidental either.
Obi-Wan laughs, properly, and Cody shakes his head before leaning it back, smiling at the ceiling. Hope sparks in his chest and he’s giddy from this sudden shift. Even if it’s a one-off, even if this is the only thing Obi-Wan remembers at the moment, it’s proof he’s not all gone. Cody collects himself with a breath before looking back at Obi-Wan, who is looking at him in anticipation.
“Okay.” Cody says. “Uh, well you should also know my tea order, because you’ll hate it.”
Obi-Wan’s face falls for a millisecond before he locks it into an impassive mask Cody fears he will be very familiar with very soon. “I don’t know.”
“Well that’s why we’re doing this, because you don’t. It’s okay.”
“It’s not, though!” Obi-Wan’s fists clench, nails digging into his own palms. “I need to know this stuff! And not just know, I need-” He pants in his pause, one hand now going up to pull at the ends of his hair, “I need to remember, and not just be told. I need to remember.”
“And you will-”
“You don’t know that.” Obi-Wan accuses him, voice sharp and low. “Do not lie to me.”
Cody swallows and changes tactics. “Why do you need to remember?”
Obi-Wan gives him that flat look Cody knows well, the one that comes after someone asks a stupid question with obvious answers. When Cody just keeps staring at him, Obi-Wan draws himself back and up, eyes dropping down. “Because of you.” He finally states, face pinching as if the words hurt to say. “I felt you when you were still outside.” His eyes cut back up to meet Cody’s. “You don’t want to be here, because I’m not him. I know you’re important, and I know I did this for you, so if even you don’t want me this way, how do you think anyone else will feel? You all want him, and I need to remember him.”
“That’s not true.” Cody whispers, heart weighing a hundred pounds. “I came in, didn’t I? I said I’d be back because I wanted to, and here I am. You’re different from him, but that doesn’t change who you are in your heart of hearts. And, you’ve gotta remember he planned all of this, right? He knew what would happen to him, and he still left you in my care, because he knew when it was over he could trust me with you. He knew I’d still care about you, and I do, Obi-Wan. And I don’t want you hurting yourself in an attempt to please other people.”
Obi-Wan stares at him as he talks, and they fall into silence staring at each other. Finally, ice in his voice, Obi-Wan says, “I said don’t lie to me, Commander.” He continues, even and biting, over Cody’s sputtering. “Almost everything you just said wasn’t true. I’ve enough false things in my mind, I don’t need your additions.”
“I didn’t-” Cody tries.
“I suggest you leave.” Obi-Wan doesn’t give him a chance. There’s an oh so minute shaking of his frame.
“Obi-Wan, wait.” Cody stands as the lights flicker.
“Leave.” Obi-Wan demands, and Cody swears the temperature in the room literally drops. “And don’t worry yourself over coming back.”
Cody reaches out for him, to do what he doesn’t know, but before he can touch Obi-Wan, he’s Force shoved out of the room, landing on his back in the living room as the bedroom door is slammed by invisible hands.
“Cody!” Bant cries, rushing over to help him up. “What happened?”
Cody shakes his head as he stands and the two of them stare at the closed door. Saying he pissed Obi-Wan off and got kicked out seems obvious. Pursing her lips, Bant pulls him out onto the porch, softly closing the apartment door behind them. Cody sighs, leaning his forearms on the railing and staring at the place he had stood earlier.
“I stopped in the alley before coming in, and just, thought about some stuff.” Cody cranes his neck to look over and up at Bant. “Did you feel that?”
“No.” Bant says. “I didn’t notice you until you were on the stairs. Why?”
“Apparently Obi-Wan did, and he wasn’t a fan of what I was thinking about.” Cody didn’t understand the Force fully, but he had spent enough time with his General to get a rough understanding of his specific relationship with the Force, and the reach of his power; to be able to pick up on Cody’s thoughts from such a distance seems novel for him, and that worries Cody. “Also, he thought I was lying.”
“Were you?” Bant isn’t judging him.
“No, of course not. I meant what I said.” Cody states. Bant leans on the railing beside him. He thinks over his words again, a metaphorical lightbulb appearing over his head as he realizes what Obi-Wan picked up on. “I said his past self planned for this aftermath. But that’s not true.” He doesn’t say the rest out loud, unsure if Bant has picked up on what he had so long ago. Saying his General had trusted Cody enough to leave his future self in his care was technically a lie, because his General hadn’t planned for his own future at all, assuming there wouldn’t be one. For Obi-Wan to somehow be able to pick up on that…
Bant puts her hand on Cody’s shoulder. “Take some time, Cody. He needs to sort himself out.”
Cody bites his lip to hold in his retort of, ‘That’s why I’m here’. Cody sighs again, once again feeling so much older than he actually is. “I’ll be back soon.” He pushes himself to standing, casting a glance to the door, assuming Obi-Wan somehow knew what they were saying. “I want to be here.” He tells the door.
Bant smiles and shepherds him down the stairs, and Cody treks back to the barracks, replaying the encounter in his mind over and over. Despite Obi-Wan’s outburst, Cody has hope. He remembered something, even if it is something meaningless, and he had a desire to remember, which Helix had said was important. Cody’s General was gone, at least for now, and Cody would have to work on managing the minefield that is the current Obi-Wan Kenobi, but Cody refused to let himself be daunted by the task.
It’s only once he’s in the barracks, avoiding the soon to be argument that is Wolffe and Fox, does he realize he never told Obi-Wan he was a Commander.