Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The rumours arrived with the first ships to land after the Battle of Scarif.

At first, Cody didn't pay much attention to them. There were always weird rumours flying around the base he managed, and most of them were exaggerated. It was easy to tell stories about how evil the Empire was, what new weapons they were developing, and what new atrocities they were committing. Parsing out the truth from the wild tales was more effort than Cody was willing to put in those days.

Even though his outpost wasn't particularly large or popular, being the commander of it meant that there was always something to keep him busy.

"Have you heard what they're saying?" Rex asked him as he moved through the base, falling into step beside him. Cody didn't spare him a look, too focused on the datapad in his hands, the list of supplies that had arrived in the last shipment, and the all the mistakes he now had to deal with. He did not need ten times the crates of X-wing parts than he had ordered, and he had no idea where he was supposed to put them.

"It's just rumours, vod," Cody said, too focused to even bother being condescending.

Rex huffed next to him. "I'm not so sure. A fight over an Imperial base isn't the sort of thing that they'd come up with. And a weapon the size of a moon that fires on their own base? No one has that much imagination."

Cody sighed. "Does it matter?" he asked. "We both know there's nothing the Empire won't do." Cody knew that far better than Rex. His vod had escaped early, and had never really experienced what it meant to be a mindless slave for more than a few minutes.

Cody had nearly two decades of memories that still haunted his dreams. He knew very well what the Empire was capable of. A lot of it had been done by his own hands.

For a moment, the corridors disappeared, the sound of blasters and screaming echoing in his ears, blood so thick in the air he could taste it.

Rex's shoulder bumped against his own, bringing Cody back to the present. He didn't say anything about Cody's moment of inattention. They both knew that it would never go away, not completely.

"I'll find out for both of us then," he said. "See if there's any truth to it."

Cody tried to shove him back, but Rex managed to sidestep just in time. "If you've got so much free time, you can help me by cataloguing the supplies." He shoved the datapad at him, looking at him expectantly.

His vod gave a theatrical wince, but accepted it from him, tucking it under one arm. "I can multitask," the man muttered as he walked away.

Cody shook his head. Brothers, he thought to himself, fondness and exasperation warring within him. No matter how old they got, Rex was still his little brother. He suspected they would be acting the same on their deathbeds.

He put the whole thing out of his mind and continued with his duties. Even in the Rebellion, the paperwork never stopped.

Not two hours later, he was shutting down the holotable, his mind reeling. It turned out the rumours weren't exaggerated at all. The Empire had a weapon that could cause destruction on a previously unknown scale. Ships had been lost in the Battle of Scarif, and the cold war they'd been in for decades had finally flared hot, kicking off for real.

The main Yavin base was compromised. The weapon was headed there next. And Cody would have to prepare his base for the influx of the entire Rebellion, those who they managed to evacuate in time.

Cody leaned against the side of the holotable, breathing deeply. This was it. This was the Clone Wars all over again, both sizes going in with numbers and weapons blazing. It wasn't a quiet game of sabotage anymore. And this time, Cody wasn't going to be able to fight. He was too old, his body no longer capable of fighting like that.

But he could still do something. This was his base—his domain. And if the entire Rebellion was about to turn up on his doorstep, then he was about to become so busy he would be lucky to surface long enough to remember to breathe.

So he stood up, and pulled himself together. He had work to do.

The rumours only grew wilder as the ships started to arrive, people flooding into Cody's base. Despite how busy he was trying to prepare his base for the influx, he still managed to overhear the rumours. What he didn't hear for himself, Rex was more than happy to bring to him anyway.

They started wild and only grew more so. Alderaan was gone, a shell-shocked Rebel told Cody as the clone tried to direct him out of the hanger. Blasted into a trillion pieces by the Empire's new weapon. Nothing more than dust and rock where a planet used to be. There had been a dogfight in the space above the old base, and the Rebellion had blown up the new weapon. Some of them even claimed that the Jedi were involved, which Cody knew was made up. There weren't any Jedi left, after all.

Cody didn't believe any of it at first, but the next arrival confirmed it, as did the one right after. The mere thought of it made Cody's heart ache. This was the sort of atrocity that Cody had once fought a war to stop, and it was the Republic corrupted into the Empire that was responsible for it.

He wondered what happened to Bail Organa and his family. The man had been responsible for getting Cody out of the Empire, for his placement at his current base. He was one of the few people in the Rebellion who had known Cody before the Empire. It was likely too much to hope that Organa had been off planet when it was destroyed.

The Alderaanians were now as scarce as the clones. Only those off-world would have survived, and everyone was loath to travel far from home with all the restrictions the Empire had imposed, tightening the noose around all their necks. There were only a handful of clones left after all those years, between the Empire's wars, and the chip in their heads. Maybe as few as the Alderaanians.

He wouldn't wish that on anyone. It was a wound that never healed, aching even now, so many years later. To be alone in the galaxy was a difficult fate, and to not have a home to go back to…

Cody had to put it out of his mind, and stop brooding. There was so much to be done. More and more people were arriving, and someone—namely him—had to wrangle them and make some semblance of order out of the chaos.

Before long, the base was packed. Everywhere Cody went, he was practically tripping over Rebels hanging in the corridors, unable to find rooms. They were bunking four to a room, setting up sleeping mats on the floors. The storage rooms were bursting at the seams and spilling into the corridors, making obstacle courses out of crates.

It was never supposed to have so many people. It was just one of many satellite bases, existing to help expedite supply routes and making sure the Empire could never destroy them all in one go. Now, it was hosting the bulk of the Rebellion, and the impracticality of it would have made Cody tear his hair out if he didn't keep it cropped short.

Hanger space was his current problem. He needed the current ships gone, and Cody didn't care where. If they had to hang around in orbit, so be it. He was expecting a dozen more ships in the next few hours, with critical supplies such as food and medical gear.

Now if only the pilots got the memo.

Only long years of experience stopped Cody from running his hand down his face as yet another pilot tried to convince him that his ship was the exception. "It's not good for it to be in the open air," the pilot kept insisting, his voice growing increasingly shrill. "It needs to be battle-ready at all times! I need—"

"What I need," Cody cut him off, voice level, "is for you to move your ship. You've had three hours to get the necessary servicing done. Now it needs to go, and I don't care where."

"But—"

Cody fixed him with a steely gaze. "Move it, or it will be moved for you."

Finally, the pilot quailed beneath him. Grumbling, they dropped their shoulders and started to amble back to their ship, dragging their feet every step of the way.

Cody shook his head in disgust. Pilots. His brain cell must be lonely. He turned away, not having time to do anything more than trust that the ship would be moved, as instructed.

He wished Rex were still on-base to back him up and stop problems like these from ever becoming problems. Instead, his brother had gone off to manage one of the supply runs, leaving Cody to face the insanity by himself.

Cody glanced down at his datapad, ready for the next problem. Then he caught movement out of the corner of his eye. He looked up to see a harried-looking aide making a beeline straight for him across the hanger, dodging the droids zooming past with cargo.

He sighed. What now? As the aide drew near, he noticed a pilot in a bright orange suit trailing behind them. Cody watched them draw closer, tucking the datapad under one arm and crossing his arms.

There was something familiar about the pilot. He looked incredibly shiny, barely old enough to be allowed in the pilot's seat, with a mop of sandy hair and big blue eyes that kept racing around the hanger.

He reminded Cody of—no. That couldn't be right. The man in his mind was many years dead and gone. But still…

Then a glint of metal at the pilot's hip caught his eye, and Cody's heart nearly stopped dead. That was a lightsaber hanging from the pilot's belt.

Maybe his first instinct wasn't so off the mark after all.

"Commander Cody?" the aide asked the moment they got into earshot. As soon as Cody nodded to confirm his identity, the aide continued speaking, not bothering to wait for a proper introduction.

"This is Luke Skywalker," the aide continued, gesturing at the pilot. Cody was glad his stance hid the way his hands shook at that statement. Instead, he cast another glance over the pilot—the Jedi, re-assessing as the aide continued to speak.

Young, but the right age to be a Padawan. Apparently had already blown up the Death Star—the rumours had been true after all. This was definitely General Skywalker's son, then. It seemed the insane recklessness was hereditary.

And in true GAR form, they'd seen a young Jedi and immediately promoted him to Commander, giving him the newly formed Rogue Squadron. Plus, the aide mentioned off-hand, the kid had only been off-planet for the first time in the past week or two.

Cody remained silent through the aide's spiel. Skywalker kept sneaking glances at him, but was also quiet, shuffling his feet. He reminded Cody of Tano, when she had first been assigned to the 501st, still not sure of her place at her master's side.

The moment the aide stopped to take a breath, Cody cut in. "What's any of this got to do with me?" he asked. "I've got more than enough to deal with right now," he said, jerking his head to indicate the chaos of the hanger.

"He's been assigned to you to get up to speed," the aide said as Skywalker's shoulders dropped further. "You're familiar enough with his kind, I'm told."

It was all Cody could do to stare at the aide, struck temporarily speechless. Did the aide have any idea about the history of the Jedi and the clones? Specifically, how the clones had been used to kill them all off?

Maybe not. The aide was young, like so many in this Rebellion. It was likely ancient history long before they got involved.

"That's Rex's problem, then," he said once he found his tongue. Cody was more than willing to fob this off to his brother, the one who actually had experience with Padawans. "He's the one that specialises in Skywalkers."

At that mention, Skywalker perked right up. He stared at Cody in wonder, mouth opening but not saying anything. It seemed that was news to the young Jedi. Which made a sick sort of sense, considering that Cody hadn't heard word of Skywalker since the Empire rose. It was likely the young General had died in the massacre at the Jedi Temple. He wouldn't have been around to tell the young one stories.

"That's not my instructions," the aide said. "I was given orders by the High Command to bring him to you specifically, Commander. This is Kenobi's apprentice, that makes him your responsibility."

At this, Cody's world stopped.

He hadn't seen Kenobi since—well, not since Utapau. Not since the chip had activated, and he'd tried to hardest to kill the man. The only reason Kenobi had survived was because not even Cody was good enough to kill him.

Cody hadn't been rescued from the Empire until a year or two previously, long after the last known sighting. It was how Cody had known that he had failed in his initial attempt. In true Kenobi style, he had blazed into existence just long enough to fight his way through a city, infiltrate Fort Inquisitorius to rescue a child, and then duel Darth Vader.

No one knew whether he lived or died after that—at least, no one who was talking. But he had lived, apparently, long enough to take a Padawan. His brother Skywalker's child, who didn't have anyone else left to teach him. No wonder no one had heard from Kenobi for so long, Cody thought a little wildly. He'd clearly been busy dealing with the second generation of Skywalkers.

By the time Cody had regained his composure, the aide had disappeared, taking advantage of Cody's reaction. Skywalker was still standing there. The boy managed to look both eager and awkward, oh so typical of the shinies before they had earned their paint.

The aide was smart. Good tactical sense, that one. It was a shame that Cody couldn't keep them. Skywalker, on the other hand…

Well. Apparently, he had a Padawan now, only twenty years late. He would just have to deal.

"Alright," Cody said, uncrossing his arms and running a hand across his face. "So. Skywalker."

"It's just… call me Luke," the kid said, the first time that Cody had heard him speak. His voice had that same Tatooine twang that General Skywalker had never quite lost. At least that gave Cody a fair idea of where his General had been hiding all those years.

Cody really wanted to sigh. But showing weakness in front of the shiny was never a good way to start. He glanced around the hangar, seeing at least three problems that he needed to deal with as soon as possible. Instead, he had the shiny Jedi to deal with.

"Over here," Cody said, turning on his heel and marching to the side of the hanger. Best to stay out of the way until he had dealt with Skywalker. The last thing he needed was to have Skywalker run over by a supply droid.

Skywalker followed obediently at Cody's heels. It was a good sign. Shinies always lasted longer when they listened to what they were told and didn't ask stupid questions.

Cody turned to face Skywalker at the far edge of the hanger. It was quieter, and just out of the way enough that they wouldn't be interrupted by anyone looking for Cody.

"Let's start with a sitrep," he said, then stared at Skywalker expectantly.

Instead of getting the expected report, Skywalker only looked confused. "I don't know what that is."

This time, Cody did sigh. "Situation report, Commander," he said. "Let this be your first lesson, then. Tell me how you ended up with the Rebellion, and leave nothing out." Finally, Cody would get to the truth behind the rumours.

Skywalker continued to look uncertain but began to talk. The story unfolded from him, a little out of order at times, but enough to give Cody a good picture of what exactly had happened.

It was how Cody learned that Kenobi didn't raise Skywalker after all, only watched from a distance. That Skywalker hadn't even known his father had been a Jedi until the Empire came calling, and that the sum total of his Jedi training had been a few hours of deflecting bolts with his father's old lightsaber.

That told Cody two important things. Firstly, of course that would be the first thing that Kenobi would have taught Skywalker—how to protect himself. Secondly, the elder Skywalker was definitely dead if Kenobi now had his lightsaber.

The story only got worse. Skywalker talked about the race to Alderaan and ending up on the Death Star instead. How Kenobi had duelled Darth Vader to give them a chance to escape with the newly rescued Princess in tow.

Except that this time, the duel didn't end in Kenobi's favour. According to Skywalker, Kenobi was still in a bacta tank en route to his base with a hole in his side. He was only ever taken out long enough to be operated on before being put back in, unconscious ever since the Death Star. Skywalker had been left to his own devices, for the Rebellion to figure out what to do with him in his master's absence.

Cody listened to the news. Accepted it. Shoved down everything it made him feel until his breathing became steady again. He couldn't afford to let it break him, the way it threatened to. He still had the base to run, with the entirety of the Rebellion en route.

And he now had Kenobi's Padawan. Skywalker was bright-eyed, naive, and almost bouncing in his eagerness to be helpful. The kid had no idea of the world outside of his dustball of a planet and had been thrust straight into the middle of the galactic war against the Empire. Somehow, Cody had to figure out what to do with him.

"Good work," Cody said, wincing internally at how hoarse his voice came out. He glanced back over at the hanger. The three problems had become five in the time that it took Skywalker to tell his story.

Well, if Skywalker was supposed to become a leader, he might as well start learning by shadowing Cody. Once the rest of the Rebellion had arrived and the Padawan was expected to start running missions, he could figure out the rest.

"You stick with me for now," he told Skywalker. "Watch everything I do. I'll quiz you on it all at the end of the day. Do you have a bunk yet? Supplies?" he then asked with a frown. Skywalker didn't have a bag with him.

The Padawan grimaced. "It's just me," he said, gesturing at himself. "I didn't get to take anything with me when I left Tatooine."

Cody could sympathise with the rush of hurriedly leaving a planet. The difference was that he always had his bunk on the Venators, and never had to worry about whether he would be able to requisition new supplies.

"Bunks are in short supply," he said. "You'll bunk with me. There are no beds left, but you're young, you can take the floor. We'll stop by the quartermaster last thing today to get you fitted out."

Besides, it would make it easier to keep an eye on the Padawan. He didn't dare imagine what trouble a young Skywalker could get into on his base if he were left unsupervised.

Cody took a deep breath, checked that the Padawan was still at his side, and then plunged back into the fray.

Chapter Text

Rex wasn't due to return back to the base until two shifts away, still on his supply run. Cody had thought about comming him to warn him what he was walking into but decided against it.

If Cody got to have a Skywalker Padawan sprung on him without any warning, then Rex wasn't getting spared either.

Skywalker had acquitted himself well enough during the previous shift. He'd kept out of the way but close to Cody at all times. He'd stayed quiet during most of the times Cody was dealing with people, but asked sensible questions as they rushed from one problem to the next.

It was obvious that he didn't understand how a spaceport worked, or the logistics of running a base. That was expected, for someone who'd barely been off-world for a week. But Cody could see Skywalker absorbing information as quickly as he could, those bright blue eyes constantly on the move.

He hadn't even complained about getting a mat on the floor instead of a proper bunk. When they'd entered the quarters that Cody was sharing with Rex, Cody had seen the Padawan glance up at Rex's bunk. Cody had expected Skywalker to ask for it, but instead had taken the mat he was given and made a nest out of the blankets.

The Padawan hadn't slept well, despite that. Cody didn't need as much sleep as he used to but had retired to their quarters at the proper time with a stack of datapads if only to make sure Skywalker wasn't picking up his master's bad habits.

When Cody had finally called it in, the datapads blurring as he tried to read them, Skywalker had been twitching in his nest. His eyes were closed, but his brow was scrunched. The line of tension in his shoulders was obvious even underneath the blankets.

Cody had debated waking him from whatever dream was plaguing him but decided to leave him be and chase sleep himself. Skywalker would have to come to terms with the horrors of his recent past, just like everyone else. Coddling him too early wouldn't do him any favours.

By the time Cody rose for his next shift, Skywalker was looking bleary-eyed, deep bags under his eyes. Still, he was sufficiently awake to follow Cody to the base's mess. Cody didn't allow them the opportunity to stay for the slop that was passing as food until the rest of the supplies arrived, instead grabbing some ration bars to go. There wasn't going to be time for a sit-down meal, not with the sheer size of Cody's workload.

This time, Skywalker stayed quiet as he followed Cody around for the first few hours of the shift. Sometimes, Cody caught the Padawan studying him when he thought Cody wasn't paying attention. He was wrong, of course. Cody was always paying attention, and the shiny wasn't anywhere near as subtle as he thought he was.

It occurred to Cody as he herded them towards the command centre that maybe no one had ever told Skywalker just who Cody was. Cody certainly hadn't introduced himself, just immediately started grilling the Padawan on his life story. That was probably something he should remedy at some point. When he had spare time. Which he didn't. He hoped that Skywalker would be willing to wait a bit longer before breaking and asking his questions, maybe until they collapsed into their bunk that evening.

Then Cody got the notification that Rex's shuttle was on its way back to base, a full rotation early. The relief that flowed through Cody was immense. He desperately wanted his brother back to ease the load. Not just the logistics of the base itself, Cody was capable of handling that even at its most chaotic. But what did one do with a Padawan? Rex would have a far better idea than Cody after having Tano attached to his battalion for all those years.

Cody and his shadow made it back to the hangar in time to see the shuttle flying in. He winced as it was forced to squeeze into a space that wasn't quite big enough for the size of it. Every square inch of the hanger was covered in ships, and Cody was struggling to get enough of them unpacked quickly enough to make room for the new ones constantly arriving. Being run over by the supply droids was now an inevitability for anyone not paying enough attention to their surroundings.

As usual, Rex was the last one off the ship. Cody watched with his arms crossed as Rebels carried crates down the ramp. Finally, Rex appeared at the top of the ramp, bucket tucked under his arm. He spotted Cody immediately, breaking into a grin as he began to walk down the ramp.

Cody could tell the moment that Rex spotted who was standing at his side. His brother stopped dead mid-step halfway down, stumbling over his feet, almost tripping off the ramp. The slack-jawed look Rex sported warmed Cody's cold heart.

He recovered admirably quickly, striding down the rest of the way double-time. "Cody," Rex hissed at him the moment he was in hearing distance, "what the kriff?"

Next to Cody, Skywalker was shuffling his feet awkwardly. "Rex, meet Luke Skywalker," Cody said. "Yes, he's Skywalker's son."

Rex scrubbed his free hand over his face. "How—no, don't answer that."

Cody bit back the grin that threatened to form. "Skywalker, this is Rex. He fought with your father in the wars."

At this, Skywalker perked right up, like a shiny finally allowed their first paint. "Really?" he said in a high-pitched voice. He looked immediately embarrassed, clearing his throat. Then his eyes narrowed. "You mean the Clone Wars?"

Rex gave Cody an arch look. "You didn't tell him?" Rex asked.

"There's not been time," Cody said with a sigh. "This evacuation is a logistical nightmare."

His brother cast a look over the crowded hanger and winced in understanding. "Good luck with that," he said. Then he turned back to Skywalker. "We're clones," Rex said simply. "We led the battalions that Skywalker and Kenobi commanded."

"Clones?" Skywalker echoed, eyes darting from one of them to the other. Cody only raised his eyebrows at the scrutiny. Time had its toll on the both of them in slightly different ways, but it was still obvious that they shared the same face.

Then Skywalker's eyes narrowed. "Everyone calls you Commander," he said slowly. "That's not just because of this base, isn't it?"

Rex clapped a hand on Cody's shoulder. "Marshall Commander Cody of the 212th," he said proudly. "He didn't just lead a battalion. He led practically the whole army after High General Kenobi. I was the sane one who stopped at a single battalion."

The awe on Skywalker's face made Cody uncomfortable. It reminded him too much of the way the shinies fresh out of Kamino would look at him. All too often, those shinies would go on to die on their first campaigns, no matter how much Cody trained them, desperate for them to live.

Skywalker's face then fell. "Ben never told me about his past," he said quietly. "I didn't even know he was a Jedi until… well, until everything started."

Cody ignored the askance look Rex shot him. He'd explain later, once he found a way to ditch the Padawan for a few moments' privacy.

"Can you tell me about it?" Skywalker asked, then went bright red. "I mean, I know you're busy—"

"Sure, kid," Rex cut in, stopping the mumbling rant in its tracks. "There's always some time in between errands. I have a lot of stories about your father. Kenobi, too."

"I'd like that," Skywalker said with a grin as bright as Tatooine's two suns. "I'd like that a lot."

The chaos didn't die away quickly. Now that Rex was back, Cody was more than willing to keep his brother on his toes dealing with all the problems that came with a base still being flooded with people.

Skywalker bounced between the two of them, their constant shadows. As promised, Rex was more than happy to distract Skywalker with stories while Cody argued with too many Rebellion pilots and aides.

Cody could only hope that the High Command was planning on splitting everyone up again shortly. He didn't have room for the supplies needed to keep everyone fed and armed, and he'd needed to start converting storage rooms into dorms to stop the rebels from sleeping in corridors.

Just as Cody thought the influx had slowed to a trickle, the rest of the fleet including the High Command arrived. Cody stood on a balcony watching the skies, ready to pull his remaining hair out as he saw the sheer number of ships dotting the sky.

"I need everyone out of the hangar," he told Rex and Skywalker over his shoulder. "I don't care if you have to wake the pilots. I don't care where they have to park their ships. It needs to clear out, stat."

Rex bumped their shoulders together, a shark-like grin on his face. "Consider it done, brother," he said. "Come on, Luke, let's get this done."

Cody breathed out as he listened to the clatter of footsteps disappearing behind him. He ran a hand over his eyes, taking a moment to enjoy the silence. He knew it was going to be the last bit of peace he would get until the Rebellion vacated his base.

He was right—the moment Cody walked back inside, he was submerged in reports and problems. He sent aides scurrying everywhere as he tried to read datapads in one hand and sign flimsy in the other. It had never been so chaotic in the GAR, where clear reporting lines streamlined everything to a point where it was manageable. The Rebellion might have had a command structure, but so many Rebels were determined to ignore it if it meant they got their way.

Skywalker joined him again at some point, looking a little dazed at all the activity. Cody promptly delegated him to datapad-handler, making everyone trying to shove them at Cody go through the Padawan instead. It eased his workload just enough that Cody managed to grab a ration bar instead of missing meals.

The hanger filled as quickly as it emptied. As Cody and Skywalker stepped inside, Skywalker immediately brightened. "That's the Falcon!" he exclaimed, voice going high-pitched again for a moment. Cody frowned into the distance, trying to remember what model Skywalker had described his smuggler friend's ship as.

Skywalker hesitated, looking sideways at Cody. "May I…?"

Cody sighed. "Go on," he said, taking the pile of datapads from him. Who was he to get between the Padawan and his reunion? Besides, Skywalker had more than earned a break. "Just be back before the next hour."

Skywalker gave him a sloppy salute and bolted, weaving between the ships. Cody watched him go for a moment, noting the Corellian freighter he was headed towards before turning his attention to the aides scurrying towards him.

Before long, Cody was juggling so many datapads that the stack was almost at his chin. It began to tip, and he bit his lip as he tried to rebalance with the use of only one arm.

"Careful, old man," Rex said, one hand holding Cody steady as the other took most of the datapads away from him. When had Rex turned up? Kriff, Cody was getting soft if he was so unaware of his surroundings.

"Shouldn't Skywalker be helping you with this?" Rex asked, rifling through the datapads. "Stars, Cody, there's such a thing as too much flimsywork."

"His friends finally turned up," Cody said. "I let him have a break."

Rex's eyebrows raised. "The ones who were on the Death Star with him?" He then passed the datapads to the nearest Rebel within arm's length. "Take these to the Commander's office," he told them before turning back to Cody. "Come on, let's meet the idiots crazy enough to infiltrate the Death Star."

"But—"

"You need a break, too," Rex said, voice hardening. "Now come on." He wrapped one hand around Cody's wrist and tugged him along. Cody gave up, shoulders slumping as he tucked the remaining datapads under one arm.

Rex was right, as much as Cody hated to admit it. Maybe a break would make Cody's burgeoning headache fade a little before he threw himself back in the deep end.

The freighter was parked at the far end of the hanger. Rex had to glare at several people who tried to intercept them on the way. No one was willing to brave his ferocious scowl, leaving the two of them in peace.

As the ship became visible, Cody spotted an odd group of people by the ramp. There was Skywalker, easy to spot with his blonde hair. There were another two humans and a protocol droid with him, and he spotted the back of a Wookie disappearing into the ship.

The man must have been Skywalker's smuggler friend Solo, which made the woman whose back was towards them Princess Organa. Bail's daughter. Cody spared a moment of sympathy for the young woman who had just lost everything. It was a good thing that she'd made a friend in Skywalker, assuming the boy was as loyal as his parents.

Then Skywalker spotted them over the woman's shoulder. The Padawan waved frantically, gesturing them over. The Princess turned to look at what Skywalker was staring at, bright brown eyes seizing them up.

Rex's fingers dug painfully into Cody's skin as both of them halted on the spot. It was like staring straight into the past, seeing Skywalker and the Princess together.

"You seeing this too, brother?" Rex murmured into Cody's ear. It was all Cody could do to nod, the blood rushing in his ears.

"This is Cody and Rex," Skywalker was saying, cheerful as ever. "Cody's in charge of this base."

But the Princess was frowning at them. "Something's wrong," she said, her Alderaanian heritage clear in her accent. It jarred at Cody. He was expecting the more rounded Nabooian vowels.

"Two of them," Rex said blankly. "There's two of them. Force, this explains so much."

This only made her frown harder. "Two what?" she demanded in the tone of someone used to being listened to.

Cody finally found his voice. "Two Skywalkers," he said, gesturing at the two of them standing side by side, the spitting image of their parents. The galaxy is not ready for this.

Princess Organa pursed her lips. "That is a bold and quite frankly incorrect assumption."

"That's because they're a pair of old geezers," a new voice interrupted them. The smuggler stood staring at them, one arm propped on his hip. "Probably gone senile."

"Oi!" Skywalker interjected, looking angry on the clone's behalf. "They are not—"

"Anyway," Princess Organa said loudly, preventing the argument before it could start. It was a skill she was no doubt going to need to perfect, with friends like those. "You must be mistaken. While I was adopted into the royal house of Alderaan, my birth records are sealed. It is unlikely that you ever met my first parents."

Cody shook his head. "It's obvious to anyone who looks closely," he said. "You look like your mother, Princess. But that attitude? It's all Skywalker."

Skywalker looked uncomfortable. "I know she must look familiar," he said. "But Cody—I don't have any family. They're all dead."

"Kenobi must have separated you," Rex said. "It's dangerous, having too many Jedi in one place. And Skywalkers at that? There's no way you wouldn't have attracted the Emperor's attention if you stayed together."

"Kenobi?" Princess Organa said sharply. "Obi-Wan Kenobi? You know him?"

So the Princess had met him, then. If Cody had any guess, then it wasn't just on the Death Star, not with the way her eyes sparked at the name.

Of course Kenobi wouldn't have stayed away from both of them forever. They were Skywalkers, after all. They would have drawn him in like a moth to a flame, no matter if he planned to keep his distance.

"We fought in the Wars with him," Rex said. "Cody's his Commander. Of course we know him. Your parents, too. Both sets."

"I'm sorry for your loss," Cody said in a low tone. "But there's no doubt about your parentage, Princess. Not to us."

Skywalker looked like someone had hit him over the head with a blunt object. Organa didn't look that much better. They turned to each other, staring. Cody took the opportunity to notice similarities between them, beyond the superficial.

The colouring made it easy to miss, but their facial features were more similar than most would notice at first glance. For someone like Cody, used to seeing the same face in a million tiny variations, it was plain to see.

Kenobi and Organa must have meant to tell them at some point. As Jedi younglings, they deserved to know their heritage. But it seemed time had snatched that chance away from them. One was lost with Alderaan, and the other… Cody hadn't heard any news since Skywalker's arrival. That didn't mean it was good news.

"Well then," Rex said, finally letting go of Cody's wrist and clapping his hands together. "You've already got Skywalker, Cody. That makes Organa mine."

"Excuse me—"

"That seems fair," Cody said with a nod, ignoring Princess Organa's outraged squawking. "One each."

"I do not need—"

The Clones were made for the Jedi, after all, and these were a pair of Jedi younglings. It was sweet that the twins thought they had any say in the matter.

"It's settled, then." Rex shoved the pile of datapads back into Cody's arms. "Back to work, Skywalker. Where are these crates going?" He made to head up the ramp, only to be slammed into by an astromech moving far too fast to be safe.

A very familiar-looking astromech, at that. It beeped loudly, moving back a bit only to ram into Rex's shins again.

"Oi! Keep that up and I'll sell you for scrap!" Rex snapped at it, but Cody could tell his heart wasn't in it. His brother sighed. "Of course you're still around," he muttered. "Bloody droid. Just as impossible as your master."

Organa's angry tirade cut off mid-sentence as she stared at them both. "That's my droid."

"I know," Rex said. "It was your father's first. And I think it belonged to your mother, originally." He shot Cody a questioning look. Cody shrugged. He didn't bother keeping track of the history of Skywalker's droids.

The smuggler frowned. "What about Goldenrod, here?" he asked.

The question left Cody confused, until he saw a golden protocol droid following the astromech down the ramp, talking animatedly to itself.

"That one, too?" Rex said, eyebrows shooting into his non-existent hairline. "General Skywalker told me about that one. He built it when it was a child, gave it to Amidala later in exchange for the astromech."

"Wait," Organa interrupted. "Amidala? As in Senator Padmé Amidala of Naboo?"

"Was she our mother?" Skywalker asked with interest.

Cody could only shake his head. "The pair of them had to be the worst kept secret in the GAR," he said. "And that includes Bly."

He then took advantage of the momentary speechlessness of the twins to grab Skywalker by the shoulder. "Break time's over," he said. "We've got too much to do still. Princess," he said with a nod at Organa, pointedly ignoring the sputtering smuggler next to her. "I'll see you at command."

Chapter Text

The next day, after Cody had spent hours upon hours in meetings with High Command, he took Skywalker to the newly set up medical centre to see his master.

The medical frigates had arrived with the High Command. They were the ones containing the wounded whose state were too critical to move quickly, the ones whose recoveries were still uncertain. Cody had received the reports as the patients were offloaded onto his base, but had deliberately waited until they were fully set up to come by.

Skywalker stayed very quiet as they walked through the main triage rooms, where the least wounded were being looked after. They were the survivors of the battle over Scarif, of the fight for the Death Star, as well as all the small skirmishes that had come before the war had kicked off in earnest. They were lucky to be alive, all of them. For most, there wasn't even a body to recover.

The bacta tanks were kept in a separate room to the beds, where the medical staff could keep a close eye on them. Not many of them were occupied. As they drew nearer, Skywalker suddenly outpaced Cody, striding past him with unerring aim towards a specific tank.

The Padawan laid a hand on the glass, looking up at the body hanging inside. Cody stopped dead behind him, his gaze caught.

His hair's not ginger anymore, the only part of him still capable of thought noticed. Cody's blood roared in his ears, the beeping of the medbay fading behind remembered blasterfire and the low hum of a lightsaber.

Blast him!

He hadn't seen Kenobi since… since…

Good soldiers follow orders.

And he had. Like the droid they had reduced him to, not thinking, not questioning. Not understanding why his heart was screaming.

Little gods, there was a small part of Cody that still wished that Rex had never taken the chip out of his head. Facing what he had done had nearly destroyed him, and only Rex's stubbornness had kept him going this far.

Cody closed his eyes. Swallowed hard. Waited for the blasterfire to fade, for the beeping of the medbay to resume. When he opened his eyes, the scene in front of him was exactly the same. What had felt like an eternity to Cody had been a few seconds at best.

His eyes dropped, scanning his General, searching for injuries as had once been his custom. His breath hitched as he saw the mess that Vader had made of Kenobi's side, the reason why he was still in a tank. The Sith had near bisected Kenobi, and the blade had cauterised as it went, causing even more damage than a normal blade would have done. It was a miracle that he was alive at all.

Skywalker was still staring up at his master, his heart in his eyes. Cody turned his head, noticing a Mon Calamari medic hovering near the door, watching them carefully. After another moment of careful breathing, Cody forced himself away from the tank and went to talk to the medic.

"How bad is it?" Cody asked. He was proud of how level he managed to keep his voice.

The medic simply stared at him with narrowed eyes. "I'm not able to release that information about my patients."

Cody gestured back at Skywalker. "Kid's his apprentice, next of kin. And I have the authority to see General Kenobi's medical charts."

Though the medic's harsh stance had softened slightly at the mention of Skywalker, it immediately hardened again. "I understand you are the commander of this base," the medic said curtly. "That does not supersede patient confidentiality."

Cody continued breathing and crossed his arms in front of his chest. "That's not what I'm talking about," he said. "You've got the old Republic medical records for the General, yes? I'm listed under his medical powers of attorney, designation CC-2224."

For a long moment, the two of them stared at each other. Cody shifted his weight, preparing himself for the long haul. Then the medic broke their standoff to grab a datapad off a nearby table and start scanning through it.

The medic paused, their head tilting in their race's sign of surprise. Their eyes flicked between Cody and the datapad several times. Cody let his shoulders slowly relax.

"Alright," the medic said, more to themselves than to Cody. "Alright then." They cleared their throat. "This is old, but I've got nothing superseding this."

"His prognosis?" Cody prompted.

The medic gave a side glance at Skywalker, then took a few steps away from the area—away from Skywalker. Cody followed, his heart beginning to beat a little faster as the fear set in.

"It's not good," the medic said in a low voice, hopefully too low for Skywalker to hear. "Lightsaber wounds are tricky. It's caused a lot of damage to his internal organs, the sort that normally needs a full surgical team and the best medical intervention to address."

"The Rebellion doesn't have access to that level of care," Cody stated. For all the backing of some Core worlds, they had little resources, especially of that level.

The medic sighed. "No, we don't. And we're not used to treating lightsaber wounds. Most people don't survive them, so it becomes a moot point."

Cody waited as the medic fell silent. Eventually, the medic spoke again, their voice quieter still. "At this point, I feel like we're just staving off the inevitable," they said. "I don't see a future where he ever wakes up."

Cody breathed. And breathed. "Acknowledged," he managed to bite out. It was better than his initial instinct of reaming the medic out for losing hope. It wouldn't make him feel better, no matter how tempting, and it wouldn't change anything.

He had to be practical. And he still had Skywalker to worry about.

Without another word, Cody pivoted and walked back over to Skywalker. The kid had finally let his hand fall to his side but still hadn't stopped staring.

"I thought I heard him," Skywalker said without looking at Cody. "At the battle, when I was in the X-wing. Telling me to let go, trust the Force."

He huffed a bitter laugh. "I was so desperate for someone to tell me what to do, how to help, I imagined Ben."

Cody paused, remembering back decades, when he had fought side by side with the Jedi. "I don't think you were imagining it," he said slowly. Skywalker's head jerked, finally looking at him.

"I'm no Jedi," Cody continued. "I'm about as Force-sensitive as a rock. But the Jedi—they could do amazing things with just their minds. I've seen them lift objects larger than themselves without touching them, know what's coming before it happens. Be able to tell when something's gone wrong far away from them."

He shook his head. "Kenobi's not dead, not yet." He was proud of how evenly that came out. "You're his Padawan, and you needed help. He might have been able to sense it and reach out."

"Jedi are capable of that?" Skywalker asked, a vaguely stunned look on his face. "All I know was taught to deflect blaster shots without seeing them, not… all that. Except—" Skywalker hesitated.

Cody's eyes narrowed. "Except what?"

"When I saw him duelling Darth Vader—when the wound happened—I think I sort of… yanked him across the hanger." Skywalker looked a little embarrassed. "I don't know how I did it. Don't think I could repeat it if I tried. I just know it was me."

Cody clasped a hand on Skywalker's shoulder. "You'll learn eventually," he said. Assuming Kenobi survived to teach him.

Skywalker nodded, expression firming. He then shrugged off Cody's hand and marched over to the medic, clearly ready to have an interrogation of his own into Kenobi's condition, leaving Cody by himself in front of the bacta tank.

His feet moved forward without his permission. Without conscious thought, his hand was pressed flat against the glass of the bacta tank, mimicking Skywalker's earlier position.

He stared up at the man, the rest of the world fading away again. His heart pounded too fast in his chest. It was a familiar reaction to looking at Kenobi, something that he had thought was long gone.

Cody wasn't a man used to lying, not even to himself. Being right there, only separated from Kenobi by the glass of the bacta tank—he found himself forced to look inward, and acknowledge the feelings that he had quietly nursed so long ago.

Feelings that even the passage of decades couldn't kill. Force help him, Cody still loved this man, even after everything that had happened.

It had always been something he'd kept to himself. He hadn't even told Rex, his closest brother, though he wouldn't put noticing it anyway past Rex. And he certainly hadn't said anything to the man in question.

It had always been a long shot, anyway, and the war took precedence over everything. But in the quiet hours of the Negotiator's night cycle, when the weight of the losses threatened to crush Cody in the solitude of his bunk, the thought of after the war had kept him going.

There had been hints that maybe Kenobi thought similarly. Moments where he dared to dream that maybe Kenobi felt the same about him. Duty won out, in the end, the shared desire to see peace returned to the galaxy, even if Cody had never had a chance to experience it for himself.

Then the war was over, and everyone lost. Kenobi, more than most, at the hands of Cody's brothers. At Cody's own hands. It didn't matter that he would have rather died than betray his Jedi—the chip had taken over, and that was that. His voice gave the order.

He didn't have the right to after the war, not anymore. Didn't have the right to the feelings that had only banked, never truly gone away. But Cody still had his dedication to the cause, and his General. And he now had a debt that he would never even begin to be able to repay.

"Don't you dare die and leave your Padawan for me to raise," Cody told the man in the tank. He kept his voice barely above a whisper, making sure that the others would not be able to hear.

Kenobi deserved to live. He deserved to survive to see his new Padawan grown to Knighthood. He deserved to see the end of the Empire, which Cody would give everything to bring about.

Cody didn't hold out any hope of seeing it himself. He was worn, his body far older than his years, thanks to the advanced aging. The war had already taken decades, and he doubted it would be won quickly, despite the recent action. It was likely that Cody would be long gone by the time it was finally over, and the galaxy could live in peace.

But Kenobi, the Skywalker twins… they still had that chance.

If Cody believed in anything, even the Force, he believed in Kenobi. That hadn't changed, despite the decades since he'd last seen the man. The medic might not have a good prognosis for Kenboi's continued survival, but Cody trusted that the Jedi Master would make it through his wounds.

Kenobi's will was strong, stronger than anyone Cody had ever met. Nothing broke him. He never Fell, not even with all the pain and suffering the galaxy had put him through. A mere lightsaber wound wouldn't be enough to bring him down, not as long as there were still people there who needed him. No, Kenobi would die on his terms, or not at all.

He stepped back, carefully shoving his emotions back into his chest, where they could fester in privacy. There was nothing more that Cody could do. Just hope, and watch over Skywalker in Kenobi's place.

Just for once—for Kenobi's sake, if not his own—he hoped the galaxy would be kind and give them that miracle.

As everyone settled into an uneasy peace in the overcrowded base, time began to pass faster and faster, days turning into weeks. There was no change in the medbay, and Cody found himself swamped trying to keep everything running. Rather than buckle under the pressure, he thrived in it.

It was more chaotic than in the war, the lines of command less clear, but that didn't matter to Cody. He lived and breathed the logistics in his sleep. He still preferred the field, but this was still something that he remained very good at.

Which was why it took him by surprise when mid-briefing, everything just—stopped. In one moment, he was in the middle of explaining the need for the supply routes coming from the Lah'mu sector to be re-routed due to increased Imperial activity. The next thing he knew, the briefing room was empty but for Rex and Skywalker, hovering near where he knelt.

Cody drew in a deep breath, then another, smothering the familiar panic. He didn't try to get up. Rex was a calm, steady presence, his hand resting heavily on Cody's shoulder. Skywalker, on the other hand, looked to be one step away from hyperventilating himself.

"How long this time?" Cody asked, grateful that he was able to keep his voice even.

"Fifteen minutes," Rex said grimly. "That's longer than usual. Were there any signs in the lead-up?"

"Signs of what?" Skywalker broke in. "Force—what happened? You just cut off mid-sentence and went—well, droid-like."

Cody didn't answer either of them at first. Instead, he thought through the previous few days. There had been a few flashbacks, but they had been momentary, and no more of them than usual.

"A few flashbacks, that's all," he said in frustration. "I've no idea what triggered it."

"That's not a good sign," Rex said with a sigh, hand tightening on Cody's shoulder.

Skywalker crossed his arms, worried look turning petulant. "Is someone going to explain to me what's going on here?"

Cody closed his eyes, wishing for patience as despair twisted inside him. "It's a leftover from my chip," he said. "My brain was wired to it long enough that there's still times when it reverts."

Skywalker's pout immediately disappeared. "Your chip," he repeated softly. "A slave chip?"

Cody opened his eyes, looking up at Skywalker, his blood chilling at the sight. In moments like that, Skywalker was very much his father's son, a look in his eyes that promised danger.

"Worse than that," Rex told Skywalker when it was clear that Cody wasn't going to say anything else. "I take it you don't know the history of the clones? The real one, not that propaganda bullshit the Empire keeps spouting when they're not trying to cover it up entirely?"

"I thought I did," Skywalker said, still far too quiet. "Please tell me the truth."

Cody couldn't bring himself to do anything other than listen as Rex unwound the entire sorry saga of the clones and Order 66. He didn't have to be Force-sensitive to see Skywalker's growing horror as the tale only grew worse and worse.

It ended with the raid that had given the Rebellion back Cody, the surgery to take the chip out. Fortunately for Cody, Rex didn't go into detail about the horrific few weeks that followed, the raging against the galaxy, the suicide watches.

He probably didn't have to. Skywalker was a Jedi, after all. He could probably sense it anyway.

"I'm sorry," the Padawan said once Rex had talked himself out. His voice was choked up, and at some point he'd sat down himself. "You—none of you deserved that."

"No one deserves something like that," Rex said, his voice rough but gentle. "But we deal with it, as best as we could. In Cody's case, it's these—echoes, as he calls it." Rex grimaced, no doubt thinking of the clone by that name. Cody had never asked if Echo had survived, and Rex's silence spoke for itself. "It's why he's here, despite being one of the best field operatives the Rebellion will ever have. Can't risk it happening on the field."

"I'm a bit old for fieldwork, anyway," Cody said, finally finding his voice.

Rex elbowed him hard, whacking the breath from Cody's lungs. "You're never too old for fieldwork." And in Rex's case, Cody didn't doubt it. They were both aware that the only thing keeping Rex base-bound instead of on missions was Cody.

Skywalker looked like he had more questions, but to Cody's relief, he managed to keep them to himself. Cody and Rex only had their side of the story, after all. Cody hoped that Skywalker would save his curiosity for the General, if—no, when he woke. The Jedi would have their own perspective, after all.

Little gods, he hoped that Kenobi was able to forgive them their betrayal.

As the Rebellion began dispersing again to many smaller bases, it grew easier for Cody to come up for air amidst the chaos. It allowed him to start teaching Skywalker beyond just being his shadow, training him in the same way that he once trained young officers in the GAR.

As Cody had come to expect from him, Skywalker was a quick learner. His squad was slowly coming together, and while Skywalker was hesitant at first due to his inexperience, he gradually grew in confidence thanks to Cody's mentoring.

It helped that he was able to start running missions. There was always plenty for X-Wing pilots to do, and no lack of escort missions and scouting to be done. Cody had to fight with High Command to make sure that Skywalker got enough time in between to continue his training under Cody, rather than be thrown into space without any preparation or breaks.

The spare time also gave Cody an opportunity to see the way Rex had started shadowing Organa. She was just like the elder Skywalker had been at the beginning of the war, a hard-headed spitfire who was not impressed at having a babysitter.

Both to her seeming chagrin and delight, Rex didn't back down. He was far too used to the Skywalker temper, and he'd survived years of the war putting up with Skywalker's constant antics. Organa was very much her father's daughter, despite him having no part in her raising.

Cody was grateful that his Skywalker was a little more even-tempered. There were flashes of the same temper, but they were buried deeper.

Not to mention, he didn't share his family's propensity to war-time romance. Cody didn't fail to notice the way that the Princess and the smuggler were constantly at each other's throats, going out of their way to antagonise each other.

Cody wasn't sure whether the two of them were aware of what they were building between them, but Cody wasn't blind. He appreciated the moments of budding happiness in a time of such instability. Besides, they were still more discrete than the elder Skywalker and the Senator had ever been. Rex had bemoaned their lack of it more than once during the war.

He hoped they had a better ending than those two. Both of them dead at the end of the Clone Wars, instead of living to raise their children. He had hope that the next generation would survive this new war, preferably when still young enough to enjoy the peace.

It was the middle of a briefing where the two youngsters couldn't stop sniping at each other when messenger came to find them. Cody still wasn't sure how Solo had managed to worm his way into the briefing, but the constant heated looks and sarcastic remarks of both the Princess and the smuggler were doing a fine job of derailing it.

They could only be grateful that he wasn't the one running the briefing—he wouldn't have put up with their behaviour. As it was, he was content to let them be someone else's problem for the moment. At least his Skywalker was better behaved.

The Rodian who knocked on the door was young—too young, in Cody's opinion. About the equivalent of a cadet of eight, and even that was possibly too high. Too young to be off base.

The kid froze as the Princess cut off mid-sentence, turning to the door and pinning him with her still-furious gaze. The Rodian looked between them all, eyes too wide, locked in place by the many gazes of the Rebellion's most senior leadership.

Senator Mothma smiled at the Rodian. "What is the matter?" she asked, her expression and tone kind.

"I've—I've got a message," the Rodian stuttered. Little gods, even his voice was young. "For… Commander Cody?" He looked from one person to another, looking lost.

Cody stiffened, his expression shifting into something carefully neutral. He scanned the kid again, eyes catching on the medic's patch on the kid's shoulder. It made his heart drop into his chest.

"I'm here," Cody said, stepping forward. Relief washed over the kid's face. "What is the message?"

"I'm not—I'm not sure I'm supposed to say in public," the Rodian said, hunching.

Cody shot a glance around the room. He didn't really need to be there. He caught the Princess's eyes, and she gave him a slow nod. Good. She would brief him later.

He made his way out of the room, the Rodian following on his heels. The corridor was empty for once, so once the door was closed, he turned to face the Rodian. Cody deliberately gentled his expression and lowered his voice, steeling himself for whatever came next.

"What message do you have for me?"

The Rodian fidgeted for far too long before speaking, leaving Cody only growing colder with dread. "It's the Jedi—I mean Master Kenobi," he said. "He's waking up."

Chapter Text

"I didn't mean that he's waking up right now," the Rodian tried to say, scrambling to keep up with Cody as he charged through the corridors. "I mean—I only meant—"

"That's enough," Cody shot back over his shoulder. He could barely hear the kid over the beating of his heart. "I can get the rest off the medic myself."

The corridors of the rest of the base were hardly empty, but Cody didn't notice the people jumping out of his way. His stormy expression and quick pace were enough to make everyone stay back. Normally, he would have been interrupted at least twice already, especially without Skywalker there to intercept.

Well, almost everyone. Rex fell into step beside him. "Vod," he said, his brows coming together. "What's going on?"

When Cody didn't respond, Rex didn't press it. He simply kept to Cody's side, matching him step for step. Rex cottoned onto their direction quickly, his face growing even more grave the closer they got.

They reached the medbay, and Cody detoured towards the bacta tank room by force of habit. He stopped dead in the doorway, Rex almost running into his back.

The room was empty. There was no one in any of the tanks.

Waking up, not dead, Cody told himself, swallowing hard. His heart was having trouble believing it, especially with what the medic had told him all those weeks ago.

Rex nudged him forward, enough to see past him. Cody didn't need to look back to tell that his brother was frowning, also realising the room was empty.

"There you are," came a voice from behind them both, further down the corridor. Cody tensed, then pivoted. The medic's head was poking around from one of the doorways. The messenger hovered nearby, looking sheepish. He barely reached the medic's shoulder.

The medic's head disappeared back into the room. Rex took one look at Cody's face and sidestepped out of the way before he could be shoved aside.

"I apologise for the messenger," the medic said as Cody barged into the new room. "Clearly he needs less important tasks for a while." The boy quailed at the sharp look the medic sent him, hunching further in on himself.

Cody barely paid attention. His eyes remained fixed on the white-haired figure in the bed closest to the door.

Thanks to the sheets that covered him, Kenobi's wounds were hidden from sight. He looked merely asleep, a slight frown the only indication of the pain he must have still been feeling.

"The bacta tank had done everything it could," the medic said while Cody stood there, feet rooted to the floor. Rex squeezed past him, going to stand next to the bed, smoothing out the blankets. Cody couldn't bring himself to come any closer. He kept staring at the slight rise and fall of Kenobi's chest, the only sign that he was still alive.

The medic came to stand next to Cody. They reached out a hand, then hesitated instead of placing it on Cody's shoulder, pulling it back to cross their arms over their chest. "He won't wake up immediately," they said quietly. "It's going to take a few more days, I think. But he will wake up. I'm sure of that now."

"He's still injured," Cody said. "Not even a Jedi could walk an injury like that off."

"It's a long road ahead of him," the medic agreed. "I still maintain that by all my medical knowledge, he shouldn't have survived so long. Commander… I can't promise what will happen when he does regain consciousness."

Cody didn't need the medic to explain that to him. He'd been through decades of war. He knew all the ways in which a person could fail to recover from their injuries. Infection, brain damage, permanent loss of senses or feeling—everything was still possible. He knew more than a few soldiers who had told him that they'd wished they were marching far away rather than live with what their bodies had become.

He couldn't bear to face the idea that Kenobi could end up like them, wishing that the longnecks would decommission them rather than face a lifetime of pain. Or discovering that his sharp mind had been destroyed, leaving only a shell of a person.

"I'll let you know when he wakes," the medic told him. He sent another look at the messenger. "Properly," he added, voice acerbic. The messenger flinched again.

Rex came back to Cody, and clapped his hand on his brother's shoulder. Cody found himself leaning into his brother's touch, desperate for comfort. "We'll be waiting," Rex assured the medic. "He'll be fine. I know it."

Cody wished he had even a fraction of Rex's confidence.

The next few days dragged on. Luke was beyond excited at the idea that Kenobi was out of the bacta tank and on the mend, making sure to visit the medbay several times every day to see if anything changed. He reported back to everyone that Kenobi seemed restless, and that the medic was weaning him off some of the drugs, but showed no signs of actually waking up.

Cody was jumpier than ever. Fear and dread pooled within his stomach, making it a struggle to eat even when he found the time. Only decades of discipline allowed him to concentrate on running his base.

When he first heard the news that Kenobi was potentially going to wake up, Cody had feared that the man wouldn't be the same, that his injuries would get the best of him. Now, Cody also feared that the man would wake up, his faculties intact.

How would he react to Cody? He didn't know if Kenobi knew about the chips. It wasn't common knowledge in the Rebellion outside of High Command, and Kenobi had kept himself and Luke apart. For all Kenobi knew, Cody had deliberately betrayed him that fateful day, had chosen to try to kill him of his own free will.

Would he hate the clones for the weapon they became—hate Cody? They were still the reason that all his people were dead. The Jedi Order was no more, and it was because the clones had killed them.

Sure, there were survivors, here and there. Not everyone had died. But even the people who had made it through the end of the war had slowly fallen, until Cody couldn't name a single other Jedi from that time who he knew for sure was still alive. Even Ahsoka was gone now, having made it so close but not long enough to meet Cody again.

It was just Kenobi, the Skywalker twins, and the Sith that were left. Even the Inquisitors were gone, as far as Cody was aware. He hadn't heard of any activity from them since before his own rescue. Thousands of years of history of the Jedi, and Cody could count the survivors on a single bloody hand.

Luke kept trying to drag Cody along to the medbay. Cody kept refusing. He cited his duties as the reason, but both of them knew that Cody was deflecting. Even Rex had managed to visit more than once, but Cody was resolute in staying away.

Kenobi was recovering. With a little luck, he would soon be awake and capable of making his own decisions about his medical treatment. Cody's medical power of attorney would soon be unnecessary, making his presence obsolete.

He refused to give in to hope. It hurt too much.

If only Rex would get the memo.

"You should go see him," Rex said to him in an undertone as they left yet another briefing. "He's your jetii, Cody. You can't stay away forever."

Cody refused to acknowledge him. As far as he was concerned, he could indeed stay away forever.

"Did you check on the Shili supply routes like I asked?" Cody said instead. "I need those numbers before my first meeting tomorrow morning. If I'm going to need to ask for more credits for the trades, I need hard numbers, not just pilots complaining about higher prices."

Rex ground to a stop, grabbing Cody's arm and forcing him to stay. "You can't keep avoiding this, vod. It's unhealthy."

"What do you want me to say, Rex?" Cody snapped back. "I'm busy. This base doesn't run itself. He's healing—he doesn't need me."

Rex gave him a searing look. "Are you so sure about that?"

Cody glared at him, the constant dread being replaced by anger. Who did Rex think he was, to lecture him like that? He swelled and tried to shake off Rex's hold. His brother's fingers remained a vice. His eyes locked onto Cody's, holding his gaze.

But before Cody could give voice to the scathing words that threatened to spill out, Rex kept talking. "I know it's hard. Kote, I get it."

The sound of his name was enough to stop Cody's anger in its tracks. He deflated, the anger draining away.

"Your jetii is here," Rex continued. "He's recovering. I know you're scared, but Cody, I'd give almost anything for that reassurance."

Cody found himself averting his eyes. "I know," he said, voice rough. When he tried to think of something else to say, his mind drew a blank, and the silence drew out between them, becoming a tangible, painful thing.

Footsteps echoed in the hall, growing closer. "Cody? Rex?" Luke's voice was hesitant as he glanced between the two men, wary of interrupting them.

"I'll sort out the Shili routes for tomorrow," Rex said, letting go of his arm and stepping back. "You go visit your jetii."

Cody closed his eyes. "All right." It didn't make him feel any better. He watched Rex walk away, bereft even with Luke at his side.

"Are you sure?" Luke asked him quietly. "You don't have to come if you don't want. It's just…"

Cody turned to look at Luke. There was a strange expression on the Padawan's face, one that made Cody's blood run cold. He'd seen that expression many times before, just not on Luke. It always meant that something was about to happen.

"I think you should come this time," Luke said.

Force-osik. Luke may not have any formal training, but he was Jedi through and through.

"I'll come," Cody promised. For Luke's sake.

They were intercepted before they reached the medbay. The medic was waiting in the hallway, half blocking the doorway. He had been expecting Luke at least, though his eyes narrowed at the sight of Cody on his heels.

"He's awake."

Cody's world stopped. Luke immediately ran ahead, ducking around the medic and disappearing into the room. Cody followed, feeling almost as if he were being dragged, his feet moving without his consent.

By the time Cody made it into the room, Luke was by the bed, drawing the man propped upright into a very careful hug, careful not to jostle his side. And Kenobi was responding, hugging him back with one too-thin arm, soothing with the ease of a man long practiced at raising apprentices.

Cody remained by the door, frozen, unable to take his eyes off the scene unfolding in front of him. He couldn't quite believe it. After all those years…

"I thought I'd lost you," Luke babbled. "No one thought you would survive—it's all my fault—"

"I'm fine," Kenobi said. His accent had softened, but his voice was the same, and the sound of it jolted him to his bones even as his eyebrows raised automatically with the familiar line. He hadn't believed it every previous time he'd heard it. He didn't believe it now. "It takes more than a lightsaber to kill me. I'm not going to die just yet."

Though Kenobi wasn't looking at anyone but Luke, Cody could still see the expression on his face, one that he had learned to recognise the hard way. Kenobi wasn't telling the full truth, and it was obvious to Cody.

Kenobi hadn't thought he would make it out alive. He'd been prepared to die on the Death Star, ready to sacrifice himself to protect Luke. He hadn't been expecting to survive.

It was just like him. Despite the years of exile, Kenobi hadn't changed, not the core of him. So prepared to ignore his own needs, if it meant looking after someone else.

Cody couldn't bring himself to come closer. The guilt was eating him alive, and his stomach churned unpleasantly. It was too much. Better to leave Kenobi and Skywalker to their reunion. He would walk away without disturbing them, as soon as he could remember how to move his feet.

Except Kenobi's head tilted, looking away from Luke. His eyes fell on Cody, and widened.

"Cody," the man whispered. Hesitant. Uncertain.

Luke heard him, let go of the tight grip he had on Kenobi and waved Cody over. The kid switched topics from his unnecessary survivor's guilt, now speaking all about Cody to Kenobi, telling the old man about how helpful Cody had been in learning the ropes of the Rebellion. The words washed over Cody. He couldn't focus. Couldn't do anything but stare at Kenobi as his feet betrayed him, pulling him closer to the bed.

The last time he'd seen Kenobi alive and aware, they'd just defeated Grievous. Cody had given the man back the lightsaber he'd dropped, just like dozens of times previously. He'd gotten a lightsaber clip for his belt for a reason, after all.

Hope had been running high—the two highest members of the Separatist military leadership were dead, and the end of the war was finally in sight. He'd dared to start to think about what life after the war might look like for him—for them.

Then he'd had his General shot off a cliff.

The chip was long gone. Cody knew that. There was no order subverting his mind, twisting his thoughts. He wasn't going to try to kill Kenobi. That didn't stop the dread at getting too close, terrified for Kenobi's sake. What if there was a trace left?

"Cody," Kenobi said again as Cody drew near, voice stronger. The hesitance was replaced with wonder. Luke moved aside, leaving Cody room beside the bed. As soon as Cody was close enough, Kenobi reached out, shaky fingers gripping his jacket and tugging Cody closer.

Cody's legs buckled, dropping him hard to the floor. The sudden pain in his knees didn't register as Kenobi drew Cody in, resting their foreheads together in a keldabe. Cody trembled against him, not having expected the gesture. Not having even dared to hope for it. He knew that Kenobi knew the meaning of it—the man was every bit as Mandalorian as Cody beneath the polite veneer.

It seemed that he was not the only one whose feelings never really went away, despite how many years had passed.

Finally, Cody broke. "Obi-Wan," he breathed out, the sound wet. It was the first time he'd ever dared say the man's name aloud. "I'm sorry–I never meant–ne ceta, please, I didn't want—" Little gods, he couldn't even get a sentence out. Cody cut himself off, shuddering.

"Oh, Cody," Obi-Wan said, voice full of heartbreak. He carded through Cody's silver hair with gentle fingers, calloused from years of hard work. "There is nothing to forgive. We were all used, in the end, and I always knew you better than to believe it was your choice."

Cody squeezed his eyes shut, pressing his head harder against Obi-Wan. He raised a hand to press it against Obi-Wan's chest, feeling the rapid flutter of his heartbeat beneath the thin medical gown.

"I'm here," Obi-Wan murmured, tugging lightly on Cody's hair, a physical reminder. "I promise. I'm not marching off just yet, cyare."

Cody's heart constricted at the affectionate term. Obi-Wan wasn't trying to hide his emotions, not anymore. Cody couldn't find the words to respond past the tightness in his chest, so he let his own emotions rise, no longer trying to ignore them. The sudden fisting of Obi-Wan's fingers showed that the man could sense them—sense him.

When he finally felt that he wasn't going to shake apart on the spot, Cody leaned back, calming enough to become aware of the wetness on his face. Obi-Wan's hand slid down as he moved, resting on his cheek and thumbing away the tears.

Beside them, Luke was practically vibrating with excitement. It seemed he had guessed at least part of what was going on between the two men, and was most pleased at the development. Cody snuck a quick look, seeing the wide smile on the boy's face. No doubt he was itching to go tell his twin about the situation.

For the first time, Cody found himself looking to the future. Maybe, just maybe, he could see the future that the Rebellion was trying to build. After all, he'd had one miracle already. Who was to say that he couldn't yet have another?

It was a long road ahead of them, but it didn't seem so hopeless anymore. Leaning into Obi-Wan's hand on his cheek, Cody knew that he would not be treading it alone.