Chapter Text
It’s the middle of the designated night cycle aboard the Negotiator, about twelve hours into their three-day hyperspace journey for a supply pickup. They’re in-between campaigns, a rare luxury, and Obi-Wan is currently filling out a shore leave request. His men are in desperate need of a well-deserved respite, and he’s hoping this time it actually comes to fruition.
Obi-Wan sighs, glancing at the stack of datapads that await him. A supply pickup always lends itself to more datawork. Yet despite how menial and boring it may be, he’d always prefer to be here than on the battlefield with lives on the line.
There’s no true peace in wartime, but this is likely as close as it gets.
Finishing the leave request, he sets the datapad aside and grabs another from the stack. For a moment, his eyes glaze over it unseeing as his mind wanders. It’s not a revolutionary thought on his part, that this type of work is always far more enjoyable with his Commander by his side, but it’s something he constantly finds himself thinking when working alone.
Obi-Wan hums, glancing at the electric kettle on his desk. If he were to hazard a guess, Cody isn’t sleeping now either, he’s likely at his desk with his own stack of datapads. Unless they’re filling out a joint report, there’s no real reason for them to complete their work together. They both have enough between the two of them that it doesn’t actually get done any faster, yet always feels like it does, and perhaps Cody would like a cup of tea to help keep him awake in these early hours…
Obi-Wan reaches out with the Force— not prying, never prying, just enough to brush up against Cody’s Force presence with his own, to see if his Commander is actually sleeping or not, as he’d be remiss to interrupt the few hours Cody does manage to get some rest—
The datapad drops from Obi-Wan’s hands, unbidden.
His mind staggers back. No. That’s— no, surely not—
He reaches out again, measured and careful despite his desperation, and finds him, finds Cody— he’s still there, but he’s muted, obscured, shallow in the Force. A wavering thing, and the wrongness of it leaves Obi-Wan reeling.
They’re in hyperspace. It’s the middle of the night between campaigns and they’re in hyperspace— his Commander should be safe— but there’s no time to dwell on should and should nots. No point. Instead he opens a comm link.
“Scabs?”
His CMO should probably be asleep, but of course he responds immediately. “Sir?”
“I need you to come find Cody immediately.”
“The Commander? What’s wrong?”
There’s rustling, and he knows Scabs is already well on his way. “I… don’t know, exactly, but something’s not right. I can’t feel him in the Force like I usually can.”
He hears muffled cursing on the other end that sounds something like always with the fucking Force, little gods, which Obi-Wan politely ignores, and continues, “He should be in his quarters, I’m heading there now.”
“On it, sir.”
He assumes Cody is nearby at least, from what Obi-Wan could actually manage to sense, and his quarters are only down the hall from his own. He tries comming Cody as well, but it predictably proves futile.
Despite how wrong wrong wrong he feels in the Force, it’s still a relief when Obi-Wan rounds the corner and sees Cody runnings toward him, there and whole and alive.
That is, until Obi-Wan’s entire universe crumbles in an instant when Cody starts shooting at him.
His lightsaber is raised and ignited on instinct and muscle-memory alone, brain lagging to catch up, but it’s just enough time to block the blaster fire. He grunts, using extra care to make sure none of the bolts deflect and hit his Commander.
“Cody, what—?!”
“General!” Obi-Wan hears Scabs shout from behind him, shocked and outraged. He doesn’t have to tell him to signal an all-hands emergency, as in the next second alarms start blaring, red lights flashing. “Commander! What in the hells are you doing?!”
“All Jedi are traitors to the Republic,” Cody says, clipped and sharp. “Execute on sight.”
Bile rises in Obi-Wan’s throat, because this— this is not his Cody. It’s his voice but not his words, not his tone, so patently not his actions— it creates a dissonance in his mind that threatens to break it completely.
“Do not shoot him!” Obi-Wan demands as he hears the sound of several troopers rushing up the corridor. He doesn’t actually think they would, but their confusion, their rage, their betrayal is palpable in the Force as soon as they see their Commander. “Stun only!”
Rounds depleted, Cody tosses his blaster aside— in the same instant he pulls out a vibroblade and lunges at Obi-Wan—
He immediately lowers his lightsaber, retracting the blade because no matter what, no matter what terrible hell this is, he will not—
He doesn’t have to. Before Cody can reach him he falls to the floor in a slump, a blue stun bolt still rippling across his form.
Obi-Wan gasps, finally allowing himself to breathe, but only just.
It's Wooley who seems to have made the shot, gross horror struck across his face, his own breath frantic and heavy.
“It’s okay, Wooley, he’s only stunned.”
“I— ” the trooper makes a choked sort of noise, shaking his head furiously. “With respect, sir, it’s most certainly not okay, he was trying to kriffin’ kill you— ”
“Thanks to you, he did not,” Obi-Wan says with a calmness he does not feel. But he must present himself as such, when there’s so much chaos in the Force around him.
He turns to Scabs. “Get a stretcher, we’ll bring him to medical. And… restrain him,” Obi-Wan finishes, the words like ash in his mouth.
Scabs nods, mutters a “Yes, sir,” and comms his MOs before turning back to Obi-Wan. “You’re going to need a bacta patch, General. Your shoulder.”
Obi-Wan blinks. “My what?”
Scabs points, and oh— now he feels it, with the adrenaline starting to fade. It’s nothing lethal, he can already tell, but his left shoulder is nicked well and good. He tries moving it, and winces.
“ …Very well.”
They make their way to medical, most of his men following behind and muttering to themselves. Many of the vets have experienced the betrayal of a brother before, when Slick went rogue for a handful of credits, but this— this is clearly something else. Obi-Wan knows how much respect these men have for their Commander, and he knows that respect is returned in spades.
It’s no surprise when Ghost Company starts to form around Obi-Wan in something of a circle, watching with haunted looks as the MOs push Cody’s limp form on a stretcher.
“Sir,” Longshot starts, “Do you… know what happened?”
Obi-Wan sighs, shaking his head. “No, not exactly.”
When they arrive, Scabs manages to keep most of the troopers outside, muttering about patient confidentiality, but he clearly knows he can’t keep Ghost at bay single-handedly.
“We’ll start with a full diagnostic,” Scabs says. “We… don’t know what we’re looking for, but there has to be something.”
“Like what?” Boil asks, measured. He’s seething, Obi-Wan knows, but it comes from a place of panicked concern, of confusion. “Some kind of poison? Made him lose his entire mind?”
“There are substances that can severely… alter one’s inhibitions, but nothing like this.” Obi-Wan looks to Cody, motionless under the scanners, wrists and calves bound to the gurney, and grimaces. “This is something else. Something darker.”
Scabs finishes calibrating the machinery before turning to him, frowning. “You mentioned before, sir, about the Force. That you can’t feel him anymore?”
Obi-Wan closes his eyes, and reaches out— but nothing’s changed. Even now, unconscious, Cody isn’t there, where he should be. Obi-Wan can still tell he’s alive, but that’s it. Instead of that usual sunshine and warmth, he’s cold, muted.
Empty.
He forces an even breath. “I can still feel him, in that I can feel he’s alive. But everything else is barely there.”
Waxer looks between the lot of them. “So, what? The Force did this to him? Turned him into a mutineer?”
All Jedi are traitors to the Republic. Execute on sight.
Obi-Wan shakes his head. “No, the Force doesn’t do anything to anyone, not on its own. It simply is. But I’ve never felt anything like this— his person is still there, somewhere, but his mind is… blank.”
He turns to Scabs. “How long until he wakes?”
Scabs shrugs a shoulder. “Thirty minutes, maybe? Stuns don’t last long on our physiology. I can safely sedate him before that, though.”
“No, don’t. I want to try and talk to him first.”
Crys makes an affronted noise. “Sir. He just tried to assassinate you. I doubt he’s going to want to talk.”
Obi-Wan looks to him, then back to Cody. Shakes his head. “I don’t care. I have to try.”
--------
To Obi-Wan, and likely most of his men, the thirty minutes feels like a tenday. Scabs performed every blood test and scan he could think of, and is now anxiously awaiting the results. It’s a common theme in the medbay, as most of the troopers are either slouched over while wringing their hands, or pacing erratically in the narrow spaces between the gurneys.
The anxiety only increases when Cody begins to stir.
He groans, and it sounds so much like Cody that for a small, delusional moment, Obi-Wan thinks it may actually be him, that this horrid nightmare is over. But once Cody’s eyes snap open, suddenly alert, his heart breaks all over again.
Alert he may be, but there’s nothing in his eyes.
Cody starts tugging at the restraints on instinct, and growls when he finds himself well and truly bound.
“Commander,” Obi-Wan tries, gently, “Cody. Can you tell me what’s going on?”
Cody doesn’t even acknowledge him, just turns to the closest trooper on his right side, who happens to be Crys. “CT-5119, execute the Jedi. They’re traitors to the Republic.”
Crys blinks wildly, despair growing on his face as he watches Cody struggle at the restraints. “Cody, vod, it’s me, Crys. Why are you doing this? What’s going on?”
“The Jedi are trailers to the Republic,” he repeats. “Any clone who fails to comply is also deemed traitor, and will be executed accordingly.”
“Please, Cody,” Waxer begs, “Who’s doing this to you? What happened?”
“CT-3142, unbind me,” is all he says to Waxer, before turning to Boil. “CT-3143, execute the Jedi.”
“Cody, you know damn well you’d kill me before I could even raise a weapon at him,” Boil laughs, humorless.
Obi-Wan pointedly ignores that comment, and once again tries to find Cody in the Force.
There’s— there’s something there, the same muted something that’s been there this whole time. It’s dark and hazy, and Obi-Wan is afraid to probe further while Cody’s mind is in such an unknown, delicate state.
But it has to be Cody. It has to be him. Because the alternative…
“What are you all just standing around for?!” Cody screams, breaking Obi-Wan’s focus. This whole time he’s been going on about Jedi traitors and demanding to be untied, yes, but he’s kept the tone of an uncaring Commander ordering his men into battle.
Now, though— he’s flailing, desperation and rage and hate hemorrhaging through each of his words. Obi-Wan looks to his bound wrists and sees one of them bent at an odd angle, bending further as he tugs and tugs and tugs—
“Good soldiers follow orders, and I’m ordering you to kill the Jedi traitor— !”
“Sedate him, Scabs,” Obi-Wan says, “Now.”
Cody is still screaming for Obi-Wan’s death when his voice cuts out, falling limp against the cot with a soft thump.