Archive of Our Own

Jakku had been as bad as one could have anticipated. The clones always took longer to adapt to warmer climates given that they were born and raised in humid conditions. Rain was a constant, and if it wasn’t for the rain the sea mist constantly kept them cool and to some degree wet. Here, the relentless sun beat down on them, drying them out to where even their temperature regulators did nothing more than blow the hot air back at them. 

Jakku was home to numerous groups that had long since cut ties with any disputes involving the Republic. Who perceived the presence of the 212th as a direct threat to their off-grid lifestyle. Despite this, everyone seemed to want nothing to do with one another, with most conflicts ending quickly as both scavengers and thieves realized the battalion had no useful information, no grudges to pursue, and most importantly, no orders from the Republic directed at their respective groups. 

They had seen stranger things, and once they parted ways they would have seen nothing.

After ten days of traveling through the seemingly endless deserts, Cody had finally given in to his personal desperation to remove himself and his men from the heat. The possibility that their tip hinting at a Separatist leader, none specified, hiding out on the planet had either been false or no longer relevant. It came to no surprise that as the war progressed information became scarce and vague. However, when it came to the 212th, their information came directly from Coruscant and often from the Chancellor himself. Vague, misleading, and often incorrect but the Chancellor was absolute and unrelenting in his desire for them to follow through. So Cody nodded and obeyed, questioning wasn’t his responsibility.

He reluctantly had agreed to one more day of painstaking trekking at General Obi-Wan's request. All in the hopes they would find anything to delay the dreaded flimsiwork and pointless Council debriefing that would follow this failed lead. If they were to discover something it’d be in the one valley they had marked as a place of interest, they had sent the men—all but Ghost Company—back to the ship. 

The following morning, Ghost packed up their makeshift base and set out. 

Choosing to travel as light as they did was a necessary risk, and after a couple scrimmages, it was decided a smaller entourage would warrant less attention from the residents of Jakku. Small units didn't seem out of place, but a full battalion raised suspicions. A smaller crew also helped them be more stealthy on the slim, nonexistent, chance that they did find something. None of it mattered, at least not to Cody, they could survive a day. They had survived more. He can survive more. They were due to head back soon anyway.

“General, no findings, and no leads. Best to return to the Negotiator, report back to the Council, and await our next assignment, sir.” Cody had suggested, loud enough for the General to hear from behind him but Cody’s eyes still faced the scene in front of him. Finding comfort in the seemingly endless sea of beige and terracotta nothing. The most interesting thing thus far had been Waxer convincing Boil to eat a bit of sand. To see if it tasted different from Dantooine, they alleged, the implication they had sampled sand prior was not lost on the Marshall Commander. After that, Cody had picked up the pace and left some room between him and Ghost Company. Their General had kept pace with him for sometime before ending up somewhere in between. 

The General had kept to himself most of the time, but the journey had worn them all out, and they were on a mission; he didn't need to keep Cody company. That was always going to be their top concern; it had to be the mission. No matter how pointless this one had been. Maybe this distance was of his own making, admittedly well-deserved, an act of retaliation. All attempts made by the General to talk to him the last two months were quickly diverted and eventually dwindled to nothing as a result of the Commander’s growing coldness and indifference. A trait that was reminiscent of his attitude in the early months of being assigned to the General. The war left very little room for sentimentality. Cody had forgotten that. 

He thinks the General did too.

A fault in the design.

The General was adept at blending the lines between their personal and professional lives. The jedi had been responsible for instilling a sense of security in their relationship. From shared glances over meetings, to sleeping in the same room after long days of flimsiwork, to seeking each other if only just to see one another. Just standing next to each other, the silence comfortable in a way that remained inexplicable to Cody. The change was abrupt and overwhelming. It scared him. The lines that had up until now kept him impartial were the very ones that called into question his efficiency. He was running the risk of doubting, dismantling, what the longnecks had spent so much energy ingraining in him back at Kamino. He made Cody question too much.

Could a clone really feel all that a sentient could? Admiration, hatred, joy, love? Were these things learned, inherited, manufactured? Could they be more than a simplistic carbon copy of thought and sentiment? Could they, the clones, be complexities so deep they could be classified as individuals? Could others think the same?

If that fell, the things that kept him together not in fact but familiarity, what would be left? He didn't know, and the prospect of having to find out terrified him. All because he had permitted the General to spread illusions of peace and hope. The never attainable possibility of something beyond the front lines and the looming inevitability of death, for himself, his men, and his brothers. When he came back to himself, realized just how far he’d fallen, he took a step back and refused to doubt his decision. He only owed one group of people anything, the General didn’t, shouldn’t, belong in that group.

Regardless of what he felt.

Loyalty to his brothers, only them.

Alpha had been the one to teach him that.. Had been the one to stare him down and force him to understand just what he had to do to keep them safe, nod and obey. The responsibility as the one above to keep those below safe. Alpha had taught him the ability to shut any and all emotions out, especially after he found out it’d be General Obi-Wan Kenobi with whom he’d be placed. It had kept him alive. It kept them alive. Wasn’t that what mattered?

Rex would disagree, it had been a constant argument between the two, a staple in their reunions. More of an obligation than a truthfully heated argument. But Rex was compromised. General Skywalker had only ever been a terrible influence and an even worse example to everyone around him. Conveniently, Rex acquired some of his worst traits and teachings. Cody just couldn’t bring himself to agree with his younger brother's and General Skywalker’s philosophy of living first and surviving later while in the war. The simple survival of his men and General Kenobi would always be his first priority, regardless of the cost. To guarantee the Republic's victory, win after win. To serve the military well. To be a good soldier.

After the war living could be discussed.

If anything needed to be discussed. There was a persistent rumor among the vode that they would all be decommissioned if the war was won. It wasn't exactly difficult to believe. Despite the efforts of the Jedi and Senators Organa and Amidala they remained property, one that the Republic seemed insistent on keeping, controlling. Cody understood better than most that the Republic was only entertaining the notion of citizenship for the clones because of the ongoing galactic conflict. That it would only continue to be so as long as clones and their applications were important to the current war effort. He was aware that the use of weapons capable of mass destruction was unnecessary during times of peace. That they weren't engineered for it. They would only be a reminder of darker times. So where would you put two million weapons? It wasn’t hard to believe, and for Cody, it wasn’t necessarily hard to come to terms with either. 

In one way or another, he would perish at the hands of the war, and all Cody could do was his job. He was a good soldier, and if that was all anyone would remember him for, assuming they even did, then that was all he could hope for. To be remembered for always doing what was required of him and for obeying orders. 

He had yet to receive orders.

“Sir?” The chatter between his vode continued to reverberate throughout the vast valley; however, as he came to a stop, he was unable to hear the General's jedi robes dragging as they usually did across the sand. None of them were far from one another, but the terrain always changed, and the elevation was constantly shifting. In his brown jedi robes General Kenobi got lost.

“Helix, get your ass here! Now Helix! Now!” Cody shouted as he noticed a certain jedi lying face down in a heap of robes in the sand across the valley. He thanked the terrain for the first time since arriving on Jakku, sliding down the slight hill he had missed going over and landing a few feet from the General. Helix and the other members of Ghost Company could be heard hustling toward him as their worried whispers grew louder.

“Kriff General, what did you do now?” Helix was tired. Jakku? Not great. Waxer and Boil? Awful. His stupid General, who somehow managed to always be the bane of his existence regardless of how simple the mission? Downright atrocious. And with an overprotective Commander to boot, “How long has he been like this?” Helix asked, slowly taking off the General’s head covering. 

“I don't know, a couple minutes at least. No more than five.” It was Cody’s fault, stuck thinking about things that didn't matter. What mattered and would always matter is the mission. And he didn’t know. It was his job to know, but he didn't, “I didn’t notice.” Cody said it—not a whisper, he spoke it loudly. Admitting his mistake and awaiting the blame, he was guilty. He was responsible. 

“None of us did,” Wooley said plainly, devoid of any emotion. Any note of sympathy would cause Cody to shut down, they needed to tread lightly, “It’s fine, it hasn't been too long. Right Helix?” 

“Yeah, his breathing isn’t out of normal range,” Feeling the collective relief of his brothers, he continued with the less stellar news, “He seems to be running a high fever, though it's hard to tell, his eyes are bloodshot, and his lips are chapped to hell. But it's hard to tell if it's from heat exhaustion or dehydration. Kriff, knowing him, just might be both,” Helix shook his head, exhaling heavily, “We have to get back to the ship. I don't have anything to help with this here.”

“I’ll take him." Nobody objected as Cody calmly swooped down and carried the unconscious Jedi back to the ship. Assuring himself that they would make it there at a steady pace. There was nothing to do but think. The General rarely got into a bad enough condition to warrant anyone carrying him. In actuality, he had only ever dragged him once, when the General had overextended himself and was shot, needing to be pulled out of the line of fire quickly. The only other time he came close was in turning him over after collapsing in the training room due to Force exhaustion. Cody had once thrown him to pick up momentum for some lightsaber move, but that didn’t seem comparable either. Right now the Jedi looked helpless and exposed. The Jedi weren't meant to feel, much less look, this way. General Obi-Wan Kenobi wasn't supposed to, yet here he was.

The walk was quiet, they kept pace with one another, all falling in line.

They certainly made a sight, all of Ghost Company making their grand entrance to the Med Bay, mildly sunburnt and with their General still unconscious. Smiley, the nurse left in charge during Helix’s absence, had looked up from his desk, his eyes squinting and absolutely not smiling, before sighing and sharply shouting for the other nurses to get a cot ready. Helix automatically jumped in to take the General from Cody. Shooing the rest of Ghost out into the waiting room, much to their disdain. 

The questions did not make themselves wait, the concern for the General overtaking many of the shinies' fear of the Marshall Commander. Ghost was ambushed by those who had seen the General, along with those who had heard about him coming in knocked out. Cody dispersed the crowd with a threat of latrine duty for a month and the nastiest Marshall Commander Cody glare he could muster.

After that, only Ghost members came and went from the waiting area. Being unable to remain motionless for more than five minutes, Wooley sprung from his seat and began to pace back and forth before heading to the mess hall. Boil and Waxer pestered each other, which quickly irritated Cody. Resulting in Cody giving them a gaze so intense that it forced them out of the room while saying something about needing the bathroom. It was so quiet then that Cody almost regretted it, but being alone was common. 

He never fared well with it.

None of the clones ever did. The longnecks liked to pretend it wasn’t something they’d caused; they liked to pretend it didn’t infect every last one of them. It would be shameful to present a product with a disease of their making. They couldn’t decommission them all, though they went through plenty before they figured it out—too many, some not even in the remembrance. 

Few names, most only numbers. 

There was always something wrong with the vode. Always in constant need of repair. Their demand for intimacy was never the solution to a problem forced upon them; it was always the problem. The anxiety, the distance, and the coldness of isolation and alienation in humanity, or rather the resistance to be labeled as something inhuman. The disconnect between seeing their face in others and not knowing who they are, just what they are told to be. A need was born then to assimilate, if one individual could not make their face their own, a group could. Dependency developed out of the need for comfort.

That was something that was never in short supply for Kote. How could the baby of the batch be denied anything? A complete minute younger than Fox, the oldest, and only 20 seconds younger than Bly, the third of four. Comfort wasn’t something to be asked for, his brothers simply provided it. He had too much heart, Wolffe would say, opening his arms to wrap up Kote in the only security they had been afforded on Kamino. And the other two would agree, Bly with sympathy and Fox with annoyance. At a glance, that’s all it was. Looking at it in the years after their separation Cody could see it for what it was—what Fox had hid. Fear. Bone chilling and paralyzing fear, the silent plea that it wouldn’t lead Kote, their baby brother, to a decommission chamber to never be seen again. To not be the ones wailing for a brother lost, one no one would seek justice for.

A name for remembrance, an offering to a God for sentients.

Fox took his role of eldest brother to heart and as such he had become what Kote always strived and failed to be, pragmatic, analytical, centered, a true protector. Fox who had only hugged him once in all their time in Kamino. 

Cody had been dragged by a trainer to the med bay after a particularly brutal simulation that had rendered him unconscious. As cruel punishment the longnecks had refused to inform anyone about his whereabouts. He was gone for two days, a pretty bad concussion and a cracked skull, a day dipped in bacta, and another to monitor him. 

He walked the halls alone, for the first time the white sterility of Kamino threatened to swallow him whole.

His older brother, skin made pale in contrast to the deep bags under his eyes, lay in Kote’s bunk. His head made a slight movement towards the door before his eyes widened, revealing something so primal and desperate that Kote had bowed his head. It was Fox who had slammed into him as he entered their barracks and covered his body with his own. Who had held him and wailed, had squeezed and screamed. Frantically scratching and pulling at his clothes just to feel him there, safe under his eldest brother's embrace. And just when he started to quiet down, his vision would clear and he had stared at Cody’s face. His eyes immediately focused on the fresh scar that framed his eye, and started wailing again. Fox, who had taken Kote’s own tearful face, too much heart , and thanked the stars and refused to let anyone near them. Not even Bly and Wolffe. Growling and scratching until they stopped trying to rip him from Fox’s embrace and instead sat next to them and cried too. Looking at their miracle brother, breathing, still breathing.

It was Fox who had grabbed his face, gentle in a way Kote didn’t know his brother could be, and pleaded, “Never you, never, you’ll be the last of us. I promise.” Fox had never broken a promise.

Fox was different after, colder, watchful, and utterly perfect.

Kote wanted to be him. So that when the batchmates inevitably parted Fox could look at him with pride and not fear.

No Kote could never be Fox, but Cody could. Shedding away sentimentality, looking Alpha in the eye and reflecting what the older clone let show in his. He had grown, had become a new person. The one his brothers needed. 

The one they now feared, the one they stood to attention for, he was one. A lonely individual with brothers spread thin across the war torn galaxy and an overwhelming number of men that threatened to suffocate him with their silence. Marshall Commander Cody had taken every opportunity offered to him to climb the ranks, to show himself in a way that he knew wouldn’t matter to anyone but the vode. He had made it. To a bigger room with no brothers to turn to after a campaign, a table with no one to sit with in quiet solidarity, a position with no one but those below him. He was just as good as a natborn, just as unapproachable, just as “other”.

“Cody?” Even Helix refrained from putting a hand on his shoulder. It was so common amongst the vode, it was so easy for them, except when it came to him. Instead Helix’s comfort was reserved to just the slight softness in his typically clenched jaw. He didn’t look particularly distressed, just exasperated. Annoyed more than angry, and with how often the General landed in the med bay it was to be expected. 

“I expect that the General is fine.” A statement, the General couldn't be anything but okay, the 212th couldn’t afford for their General to be anything less than. Not after the fear that Krell had implanted, the desperation to clutch onto the Jedi that had proved to be safe time and time again.

“Of course he’s fine, only ever hurt enough to land in the bay. Never enough for me to force him to stay.” Helix sighed, the hair at his temples almost entirely gray, “We’re going to need to monitor him for a couple things. He was dehydrated, I already asked and all the idiot managed to say was sorry. Malnutrition, which means he’s banned from taking his food to his room, since it’s kriffing bantha shit. No skipping out on meals either. Force exhaustion, again.” Helix rubs at his temple, sighing heavily, “I think he was using it to cool off but honestly who knows. For now he just has a slight fever. He refuses to tell me any of the causes, maybe you'll be more lucky.” Helix said with a predatory smile, tilting his head towards the entrance, with no choice on the matter Cody walked into the bay.

General Kenobi was right at the entrance, occupying the first cot, the only person currently in the med bay.

“General.” Cody says as a greeting, standing at the foot of the cot nodding in acknowledgment to the small smile Obi-Wan had provided upon seeing him. He smiled back, removing his helmet, happy to see the Jedi conscious and with more energy than he had had the previous week. Though he looked quite funny with the peculiar sunburn his face covering had left him, a bright red from a little over his brow bone to just above the tip of his nose.

“Ah, Commander, it seems the heat got the best of me.” The General says dismissively, clutching his hands to his sides, shrugging his shoulders. Cody puts his hands on his hips, humming disapprovingly. “Really, one could’ve guessed just by looking at me but not to worry. Just a couple more hours and all should be set straight.” The Jedi Master said in a rush, his hands fluttering at his side, he knew .

“General.” The clone said, cocking his head to the side his left brow raised. It wasn’t like the General to play stupid, but knowing just how intense Helix could get it could be just an attempt to avoid another lecture. 

“Yes my dear?” The General said, trying his best to keep eye contact, his head tilted up in slight defiance.

“It wasn't heat exhaustion sir, it was a heat stroke . It was a culmination of severe dehydration, force exhaustion, and malnutrition, sir. ” Cody could pinpoint the moment the fight left the Jedi’s body and was instead replaced with guilt. It wasn’t that he wanted the General to feel this way, but maybe it was time he did. If only to avoid this happening again.

“Oh well.” He trailed off, his hands fluttering at his sides again. 

“Permission to speak freely, sir.” 

“Always.” Even knowing that he was about to get chewed out there was no hesitation, there never was between them, whether good or bad Cody couldn't say. Wouldn’t say.

“You insist on eating in your room, and according to Helix aren’t, you stay in your room all day and turn away food brought to you. You have a perfectly good canteen and didn’t take a sip, yet offered it to everyone else. Every single ship or person we’ve come across while on foot you’ve been able to sense and divert away from, you walked in your robes the entire time, you healed Boil’s sprained ankle, just to mention a few, these are things you shouldn’t be using the force for. I fail to believe there was no way to see this coming, much less to avoid it, sir.” It wasn’t that Cody didn't understand the need to protect his men, to do anything possible to ensure their comfort, however fleeting, that he knew well. It's that he didn't understand how the General didn’t know his place, the freedoms of being an actual person he guessed. Him and his brothers were a buffer, to keep him safe, it should’ve been the other way around. One of them dropping, not him, never him.

The Force was muddled, the immersion more a trap than the soothing flow it had been before the war. Gone was the gentle stream of the Force, slowly drifting them away from shore, and in its place was a maelstrom that only knew how to take. Where once there was a system of checks and balances all that remained was a self neglecting General running unchecked and stretched far too thin. Trapped in a meditative state for hours, Cody had seen it. Once he’d been there to stop it.

Not anymore.

“Well you know.” Dismissively, as it often was for this. 

“I’m sorry, I don’t General. Neither do I understand. We are made for this. We can take it. Don’t put yourself at unnecessary risk like that, sir.” Finally, the General looked at him, but it was with so much shame Cody wished he hadn’t. But there was something there softening the blow, though he hesitated to speculate, much less name it. Hasn't that always been their problem? The silence, the actions without context.

“You shouldnt concern yourself so much Cody, I would have been fine, the Force-'' The Commander had heard that the Force would provide one too many times to take it seriously anymore, especially given the General’s current condition. 

“General I respectfully ask that you don't finish that sentence and instead look after yourself as a human. The troops, they need you, don't make them worry, much less lose you over something easily avoidable. I-We need you.”

“Ofcourse, my dear.” And the General's eyes had softened, crinkling at the ends that made him look both experienced and so unbelievably young. They all were, it was easy to forget when you had names always getting added to the remembrance, people to lead, decisions to make. But he could see it now, in the crow’s feet and slight mouth wrinkles and his General looked as if he was on the brink of discovery just looking at him. As if he’d understood something Cody had not yet realized, until he did. 

“I’ll update Ghost company on your recovery, rest General.” And Cody couldn’t help but reach out, and it felt as natural as it used to even though it had been months since the last time he’d indulged in this. Just a hand on the other’s shoulder, but it was everything.

“Ofcourse, Cody. Wouldn’t want to make you worry.” The General’s hand came up to rest on Cody’s. Another smile, no it was the same smile, the same soft smile Cody can only recall as being directed towards him. This time Cody was smart enough to recognize it as his.

Oh, he was kriffed to hell and back.  

With a quick, but no less perfect, salute he pulled away and made his way out of the med bay passing through every single person with nothing more than a grunt of acknowledgement. Locking his door, standing, staring at nothing particular. There wasn’t much to look at in his room regardless.  

Wasn’t this a problem? It definitely broke more than enough GAR regulations to have him reassigned at best and decommissioned at worst. So why didn’t it feel like it? He knew about problems, General Skywalker and his catalog of spontaneous plans were problems. Fox’s ability to get anything and everything out of everyone was a problem. This felt too warm, too familiar and it left him craving. Wanting in a way he didn’t before, back when he could play ignorant as long as he didn’t name it. The initial shock of the realization led way to a level of contentment that Cody didn’t think could be possible in times as turbulent as these. The panic, the fear, and the disgust towards himself that he should have felt, that he had been trained to feel, did not come. Loving Obi-Wan Kenobi was a shock only in how long it took Cody to admit it. 

That love was not a realization but an acknowledgment that had outgrown it’s half-hearted denial, it wasn’t new, it just was.

What came next? He had ignored the General once before, he’d even been successful for months, and for the most part the other hadn’t reached out. Accepting his distance with no more than a small smile and acknowledgment of the gap between them. He had respected it, maintaining a distance so in line with what the longnecks and council wanted that it made him want to pull at his skin. But Cody had reached out.

The General had too.

If Cody was any sort of bold he’d say that the General gravitated towards it, soaking in the little affection provided. The affection the General just might’ve missed, but Cody wasn’t bold. 

Not at all.

____________________________________________________________

“Commander!” Cody flinched, he hadn’t done much since bringing the General back to the ship. Since coming back to his room. The day passed by in half hearted efforts of completing flimsiwork and mulling over the nonsense he had written, ultimately having to delete it. Someone should’ve gotten him sooner, there was always so much to do, and being surrounded by the men would’ve kept his mind straight. “The General asked if you had a minute to spare!” Trapper, it has to be Trapper, always delivering messages for the General since the second Battle of Geonosis. 

“Is he okay?” Cody asks as soon as he opens his door, Trapper stands unamused on the other end, taking in the state of his Marshall Commander.

“Yes sir,” Trapper answers reassuringly, peeking into the mess Cody had made of his room. Amazed at how someone with so little could create so much disorder with just his armor, “Annoyed Helix enough to be let back to his room so he should be fine. Smiley wasn’t too happy about it though, not that he ever is.” Cody knows Trapper knows more, he always does when it comes to the General. He was one of the few that Cody would consider the General’s friend, a genuine one. That’s not to mean the Jedi didn’t care or love the rest of the men, General Kenobi was incapable of that, but that level of closeness was reserved to Ghost Company, Trapper, and a select few more. 

“Good, that’s good. I’m glad,” He takes a deep breath purposefully not looking at Trapper’s amused smirk, he reminded him of Fox too much at times like this, “Do you know what for?” He thought he’d have at least a day to figure himself out, to put these emotions back to where they’d unfortunately escaped.

“Sorry sir, no clue, but if you're busy,” Trapper says, an eyebrow raised, expectant, “I’ll let him know.” Let him know? Let him know what? That he’d made a mess of his room, not reported to the men in hours, and was now refusing to even meet with him? Cody would rather eat his blaster.

“No, it’s okay. I can spare a minute or two.” 

“Good.” With a firm nod Trapper heads deeper into the hallway leading to the main barracks, no doubt going to gossip with Waxer and Boil. He should’ve put a stop to that budding relationship the second he caught a whiff of it, unfortunately his lack of sense now left him with the source of all the GAR’s rumors. 

He and the General were often in rotation on the rumor mill thanks to those three.

This most recent encounter wouldn’t help.

“General?” Cody asked, opening the door into the room but maintaining his distance, from this angle he couldn't see the kitchen. No doubt where the Jedi was. He prayed that this would be a quick update on his condition, or a relegation of his work while he rested. It was a pipe dream, as if General Kenobi knew what rest was. 

“Oh?!” General Kenobi peered from around the corner, making himself known, eyes just a bit too wide, his expression a bit too frail. The moment was too delicate, as if it were the first time in this room and not one of hundreds. As if he hadn't expected him to show up at all. “Go ahead and take a seat Commander.” He says, busying himself with something in the kitchen that Cody couldn’t make out.

“Did you need anything from me, sir.” Cody says after a few minutes on the single couch, one of three pieces of furniture in the room, the shuffle of the General in the kitchen left him unable to sit straight. Much less to get comfortable.

“I fear I’ve upset you earlier.” The General moves to stand in front of him, slowly kneeling to meet his eyes. 

“Permission to speak freely sir?” 

“You’ve never needed it my dear.” General Kenobi answered with a smile, looking at him through his lashes.

“You were careless, needlessly so.” If he’s a little breathless it’s because of the subject matter and nothing more. He feels himself conflicted on how to articulate what the General’s latest stunt had made him feel. The worry, the protectiveness, it was palpable. It had been paralyzing, “The men need you, you can’t be put on the back burner. We need a Jedi, and you're a good one. A trustworthy one. It’s nonsensical that you wouldn’t eat, or drink, or inform the team of any ailments. It was careless.”

“The men.” The General says, gently placing his hand over Cody’s knee, but it sounds more like a question and Cody refuses to hear it because hearing would be admitting and Cody doesn’t do things halfway. His fist clench in an effort not to reach. 

“They were worried, Ghost, and everyone else that saw you coming in.”

“That wasn’t my intention. It's been a busy couple of months. We don't have time for many things anymore, things we did before, do we?” There is resentment there, an acknowledgement of the issue, a push for the truth. Duality, a specialty of the Jedi Master, there is also a way out, something for him to grab onto and deny his own detachment. Cody doesn’t take it. An excuse for the resistance towards the companionship they once had, the one he ended. The one he was too scared now to do anything more than acknowledge.

“It has, but it’s always been hasn’t it? The war leaves room for very little, sir.” He doesn't take it, and his resolve only wavers at the flinch the General gives at his formality.

“Then I’m surprised you indulged me in this.” He pulls away slowly, his hand lingering, before clutching it close to his chest and Cody doesn't need the Force to see the hurt, the disappointment. Cody stays quiet, afraid of doing more. Too many choices, and Cody knows what he wants so desperately but fighting the design is a call for decommissioning and he knows the General wouldn’t, but someone else could. The other nat-borns on the ship never hesitated to sneer at his very presence, they were waiting, he would not give them reason to send him back.

“Well,” The General finally stands, huffing out a sigh and giving him what should’ve been a smile but looked more like a grimace. Cody watches him head back to the kitchen to collect two mugs he hadn’t noticed on the counter but remembers all too fondly from countless late night work sessions. One a plain brown with black and white speckles, the other a deep gold with red swirl designs, “Might as well make this worth it, my favorite.” 

“Chamomile?” Cody smiles at the cup, their fingers brush, he misses him. It shouldn’t be possible to feel this breathless for another person. He missed him so much and it aches, he wants so hard to reach out to him, to tell him that he’s sorry. He wants it to be different, he wants to be different. He wants to be born, not decanted.

“Yes, did you expect something different?” The redhead's voice is soft and curious, and like this sitting next to one another Cody feels like he can breathe. So long as he looks forward, so long as he doesn’t think.

“This isn't what I would think you’d choose.” He shakes his head, chuckles, it was one of the few teas he did like, “Especially today, something you can serve cold, like the honey melon one you picked up last rotation.” 

“It would've been a good alternative.” The Jedi answers with a soft hum of consideration, swirling his tea and taking a sip,” But it’s because of the day I’ve had that I’ve chosen this one, my favorite.” The tilt of his voice showed his fondness.

“It’s not what I would’ve thought of your preference.”

“Why’s that? I’ve always been fond of the stronger, warmer, and gentle types, Commander.” It catches him off guard and he has to turn to meet his eyes. There was a spark of mischief but the General’s eyes remained soft, always so soft. In a way that he had never seen, not with the battalion, not with General Skywalker, only him and Cody is just smart enough to recognize it. And stupid enough to let him lean into it.

It’s hard to not know what the Jedi Master is saying. Not even the months of building this distance could erase that they once had been so in sync they barely talked in and out of the field, they just knew. Knowing had been enough.

“Some would say it’s too similar to others, the same, repetitive. There's about a million different floral teas and chamomile is pretty mild. The argument could be made that it barely even counts as a tea.” Obi-Wan looks heartbroken, Cody quickly looks away and continues, “Something stronger, I thought. Anise, if I were to have guessed. By comparison, chamomile seems tame.” 

“Perhaps, but you forget that I’ve sampled many, extensively, and still this is the one I reach for. Days of hardship, those that spark joy or indifference. Gentle, soothing, a stark difference to the strong and resilient flower it comes from. This is the one I turn to, it has its place in my heart.” The like you goes unsaid but Cody hears it so loud and clear.

“I don’t see that changing.” Though he’s turned away the General maintains his eyes on him, Cody flounders for excuses.

“And after the war?” He blurts out, his knuckles turn white, his gaze fixed on the wall across him.“There are still many more you haven’t heard of, more you haven’t tasted. There will always be one you don’t know about.”

“That’s true. Like most in life there is always something we won’t know. But I’d like to say I know myself, and I can say that I saw what I needed to see, had what was to have, and time here is not the issue.”

“No?” 

“No. My dear, why search for something I’ve already found? I am complete. And you, my Commander, are you still searching?”

“I think I haven’t been for a long time.” 

What did that leave them with? A looming chain of command that threatened to eliminate Cody with no hesitation, it wouldn’t just bring him under. He’d drag the rest of his brothers with him. With his failure.

What did he know of comfort? What did he know of joy? What could he possibly provide? All he knew is that these feelings had once almost suffocated him in their severity, he’d suffocate Obi-Wan as well. A fumbling clone, a fault in the design, a malfunctioning product. 

Cody was designed. Designed, never a fault in the design. 

“I can’t be chamomile, Obi-Wan.”

“You already are.” Not a revelation, but an undeniable truth. 

Obi-Wan Kenobi had been born, raised and lived knowing of love.

He was a result of the loving and fruitful union of Othel and Qirde-Tal Kenobi. Not the youngest of them, no, he remembers a baby. Much like him, a small burst of sunshine in the force, but where Obi-Wan would be described as a gentle immersion into a summer day his brother was that of a hearth. There was one in the home, though the home is nothing but a distant memory, central to the home in which all else gravitated towards. The crib was near it, the days spent in his mother’s shawl and clutching onto his brother, the crib is what he remembers most. The love he could feel as his mother placed him down, the adoration and fierce protectiveness of his father as he peered to look at the two joys of his life. He loved in turn, that he knew, even if he couldn’t remember how.

The eldest of his clan's new generation. He who in another life would pass his hands through the hearth, the fire licking at his skin but never burning, and grasp his father’s own making the change in leadership official. It would have been him, a leader now, to look after the elders, to care for the young, to ensure the survival of their clan if not in people then name alone. In another life he would’ve been a son, and a brother, and then a father, not all at once in a sick twist of fate.

At three he felt the loss of love, in tears and bittersweet smiles, as he was led to a life at the Temple.

Obi-Wan was the new one, the one without a place at the creche. The others had grown with one another, their lives so entwined in one another that they were indistinguishable. His inclusion was parasitic and alien, the children didn’t know of hate, ye,t but indifference didn’t feel much different at that age. So he was raised around love, though excluded. The absence of love was stark and firm. Then came Qui-Gon, a reluctant mentor, who taught him that love was nothing to give but something to earn. But Obi-Wan only ever knew how to give, his whole life had been in the giving and his punishment was knowing that that action alone made Qui-Gon incapable of loving him.

Mandalore came and went with a sense of urgency, Satine was no different. Satine was lovely in the way she demanded and waited, in the years after his padwanship she grew covert with her words but the year on the run left little places to hide. It was refreshing not being left to guess. He was honest in turn and their care for one another resulted in nothing but resentment in both of them for doing what they had to do, walking back to their people. Their occasional meetings after were an opportunity to put aside their roles and play pretend and they took it. Satine had always been the one to leave first, but Obi-Wan had been the one to end it. By then it didn’t matter, Obi-Wan had learned that lesson as well, that his love was only worth in secrecy, with conditions and limitations and he had accepted it. When had he ever denied what would hurt him?

Taking Anakin was too an act of a never wavering love, the one that had gotten him reprimanded countless times, was the one his master had taken advantage of. Knowing that he couldn’t and wouldn’t turn away the boy if he just asked. So he did. Knight Kenobi had raised Anakin with safety and security and an absence of love. He had done what he previously thought incapable, protecting another from knowing the pain that came with. Even then he failed, his boy had grown only knowing love for others, as it often was, Obi-Wan had failed. The boy’s love came in groves, for the Jedi, for his droids, and his Master. Eventually his padawan no longer needed him, no longer had to put up with his novice guidance, and he too learned that loving Jedi Master Kenobi was an option to opt out of. 

Being in love, however, was uncharted territory. 

Cody was a man with shields stronger than any sith and a force signature softer than it had any right being. It was the soft glow after a rainy day, the feeling of a warm rock in a pond, a gentle weight. It was the small white flower clusters that grew near his favorite oak in the Room of a Thousand Fountains. His plans were intricate and near flawless, his input invaluable, his stance a source of strength. His Commander did not do anything that he wouldn’t pride himself in and he began to rely on him easily. In the weeks before earning the privilege to know Cody’s name his Commander had started to drop his shields for a few moments. A peek, a reassurance, and intentional. In those weeks it was bursts of trust and faith, then of respect. 

Their camaraderie had extended into friendship, and with that came Cody’s wit, his smile, his laugh and without warning Obi-Wan had found himself taking for the first time in his life. The meticulously made tea, the finished battle reports, the gentle touches, the warm smiles, the love. Cody had dropped his shields and somewhere along the line respect became adoration and devotion.

Despite Cody’s unexpected distance the last few months Obi-Wan’s feelings never changed because there it was, right in front of him, the sound of harp strings, an irrefutable warmth of a love he reciprocated.

“The only thing we have in common is the lack of sentience. Chamomile is your comfort, me, I’m a weapon. Nothing less and certainly nothing more.”

“To who?” How strange, for such a view to be so widely accepted, to be okay with being demeaned, Obi-Wan resisted the very notion. He had seen him, Cody, and always knew that he was a man like him.

“I don’t follow?”

“Who sees you as those things, because if you ever believed I saw you as any of those things I owe you and all of the 212th a sincere apology.”

“Never, never you. But in the eyes of everyone else I’m not better than, I’m comparable to a blaster.” Better, Cody wants to say. The longnecks had made sure that they were better than the traditional weapon, he keeps that to himself.

“I don’t care for what they think of you, I know what I feel. The only person that matters in regards to those feelings is you dear.”

“A weapon, a blunt instrument, that is my description. I don’t know anything but this, it's what I am. Can you really say that's what you want?”

“If I ever hear you demean yourself in such a way I’ll drag you to Master Che herself to work through that awful depiction of yourself.”

“General Obi-Wan Kenobi willingly goes to Master Che? She’ll have a heart attack on the spot.” He says with a little chuckle, sneaking a glance at Kenobi only to see his gaze heavy with disapproval.

“If it’s for you.” The Jedi rests back onto the small couch, staring into his teacup for a few moments, finding the right words, “I don’t need a thing from you Cody, not a single thing. All I ever wanted was your company, anything you’re willing to give and share with me beyond that is a gift.”

“You deserve more, someone who knows,” He places his mug onto the little coffee table, “Who knows how to do this right. Who can do right by you. You deserve that. Someone who can be a person after the war. I can’t even think of it, much less imagine it.”

“You have never deserved anything the galaxy has thrown at you. You and all of the men. It may be selfish, but I want to be the one to give you what I know you’ve deserved from the start. I’ll respect you if you don't want this, me,” Ofcourse Cody has no right to be shocked, he was the one who made the other feel this way, but he is. Because Obi-Wan should’ve known, how could he not? “But don’t deny yourself. Not for my sake but for yours.” 

“I’m sorry. I don’t know where to start, or how to move forward. I've never had a reason to and now that I want to I don’t know how. I never let myself think I could have this. You.” Obi-Wan smiles, truly smiles not the throw away things that had become standard as the war progressed, all wide and gummy and Cody loves him, more than anything, more than anyone. 

“I forgive you. It doesn't have to be planned for us, nothing about us has been. We can just live and take it one day at a time.”

“You’ll have me?” Even like this? And the thought makes him feel so exposed that he can’t help but turn away and stare forward. 

“Always.” It’s a promise; sacred, an oath said with such devotion he has to close his eyes and force himself to accept that this is his, has been his. Patiently waiting for him to accept and have, and it could be beautiful. To have something of his own.

At last he reaches out his hand only to find Obi-Wan’s already extending to meet his.