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Cody wanted to spin in circles and gaze at the ceiling until he was sick.
He wanted to stare slack-jawed at the walls for hours.
He wanted a dozen more eyes and enough storage space in his exhausted mind to file away a mental image of every banister, window, and vent cover.
He wanted to revisit this moment the next time he and his men were hunkered down for months in a slimy, mud slick trench or bombed out shell of a city.
Yeah, despite having had plenty of reservations about this mission, just getting to see this was completely worth it.
Cody wanted to remember, in perfect detail, every inch of the Jedi Temple in all its breathtaking beauty.
Unfortunately, Cody wanted a lot of things that were impossible. Like a constant supply of hot caf at the front, no more dead brothers to bury and grieve, and more time.
More time to plan before battles. More time to rest and recover after battles. More time to finish paperwork. More time to resupply or travel to their next assignment. More time to evacuate those civilians, bandage that wound, eat their next (maybe last) meal. No matter how much time they had, it was never long enough. And that was never going to change, not in the future and definitely not now.
Because Cody also wished General Kenobi would slow his single minded pace as he led them through his home.
Their two, long awaited, precious, weeks of leave started as soon as they touched down on Coruscant’s bustling surface, and already they were rushing off on a non-military assignment for the Jedi Counsel.
Mostly though, Cody just wished he had more eyes.
The Jedi Temple was gorgeous inside, with impressive frescos, complex tapestries, beautiful paintings, and stunning stained glass windows creating a colorful contrast to the Negotiator’s uniform gray and white. The entire Temple glowed with a welcoming, light aura, and something about joining General Kenobi for this assignment just felt right. Almost like a warm blanket being draped firmly over his shoulders.
Not that that made any real sense, but there was no other way to put the feeling into words.
There was only a fleeting moment of doubt if they would be welcome inside as he, Waxer, and Boil followed their General past the armored guards at the enormous front doors, but the Temple guards simply nodded as they passed and went back to devoutly watching over their fellow Jedi.
Cody noted with some awe that even the light fixtures were carved with delicate images of flowers and vines and animals from planets he'd never seen before. Whoever did that must have had a keen eye for detail and a very steady hand. Everywhere he looked there was some piece of art or decoration. Cody didn’t know for sure, but if he had to guess, he would put good money on each and every one being handmade by the Jedi at dome point.
They were straggling 20 feet back by the time General Kenobi noticed his men weren’t at his sides, not just because of his quick pace, but because they kept slowing to take in at the incredible displays of craftsmanship that decorated the whole temple.
“Sorry General! Not every day we get to see such impressive art that hasn’t been obliterated or defaced by the Seppies,” Waxer grinned. “Who made all this?”
General Kenobi’s tired eyes light up at the question and Cody knew immediately they were in for a history lesson on the Temple and Jedi tradition. He knew the General liked to share Jedi knowledge and beliefs every chance he could get, and with no imminent heavy artillery to avoid or a hailstorm of blasterfire overhead to take cover from, he didn't have to restrain that particular indulgence.
Cody rather enjoyed the impromptu lectures and had learned more about the Jedi from his General than any education module the Kaminoans gave them.
“Nearly every piece of art in the Temple was created by a Jedi ranging back hundreds of years beyond even the official formation of the Jedi Order in some cases. And while the Coruscant Temple isn't specifically known for its preservation and display of artifacts, due to its diverse population, including over 700 different species and cultures, its collection has developed naturally from many individuals wanting to leave a piece of themselves in the home that has shown them so much love. The displays are ever changing due to the many modern additions and continuing artistry. There are many talented craftmasters here in the Temple who enjoy putting their talents to use and many Jedi use their art as a way to meditate. We find it soothing and especially rewarding to create something that brings joy and wonder to others…” His smile falters briefly before returning, somewhat sadder than before, “Or we did when there was peace in the galaxy and we had time for such things.”
In a blink of an eye, that familiar look of distaste for war smoothed back into deliberate tranquility and he continued as though nothing had stopped his lecture in the first place, “The few pieces not made by a Jedi, are usually gifts for missions undertaken by the Order, though we do not make it a habit to accept payment or lavish gifts for our services. Sometimes it would simply be more insulting to refuse a gift, or it was made with such gratitude and care that the Jedi could no more refuse it than they could abandon the mission in the first place. Every piece has its own story attached, usually on a plaque nearby or in the archives if something catches your eye and you'd like to learn more about it.”
Cody finally tore his eyes from the tapestry he’d been studying. “It's… incredible, Sir.”
“My apologies, it’s always a little overwhelming your first time inside. I should have warned you three ahead of time.”
“No need to worry General! Just makes me want to paint a little more than my armor to be honest.” Boil replied, though his gaze remained fixed on the landscape of a huge desert in full bloom to their left.
“I would be happy to find you some supplies to practice with if you'd like?”
Cody started at that, though he immediately chided himself for his knee jerk reaction of surprise. There was nothing in the reg manual that said they couldn’t have hobbies, and it had been months since the Jedi officially began encouraging the clones under their command to individualize and express themselves outwardly. Still old habits die hard and conditioning from the Kaminoans died even harder.
Boil opened his mouth, probably to wave the offer or make an excuse, but Waxer jumped in before he could, “You’d really do that for us?”
The General nodded, “Of course; I said I would, didn't I?”
Waxer looked elated. “I'm taking you up on that offer, Sir!”
“The halls of the Negotiator will never be the same.” sighed Boil. “I hope you don’t like the awful, flat gray color scheme she has going on at the moment, General.”
“I can't honestly say I do, boys. And I promise you will be getting plenty of practice soon enough.” The General’s encouraging smile dipped into something a little more conspiratorial at the end there, but made no additional comment.
Cody's many doubts about this mission resurfaced with flashing lights and sirens that unfortunately went ignored.
•••
The General, still smiling, finally stopped outside a large door and warned all three men that they would be mobbed and interrogated upon entry and to be on their guard. Cody took that warning to mean this really would not be what he expected and suddenly felt very exposed without his weapons or helmet, despite having absolutely no intention of using them today.
Without waiting for an acknowledgement, Kenobi tugged the doors open and stepped confidently through. Cody gestured for Waxer and Boil to stay close and followed their General into the Coruscant Temple's Crèche.
And he was right, they barely had time to observe their surroundings and register another adult in the room besides Kenobi, a Togrutan Jedi Master, before being unceremoniously mobbed by a group of about twelve giddy eight year olds. (They learned later two clans, six Initiates each, were paired up so their Crèchemasters could get a well deserved break. Apparently the General would take over care of one or two clans, depending on size, switching off each day for a week of his leave. He, and over half the active Jedi Generals, all had their crèche duty dates marked down in their calendars with big exclamation points, colorful arrows, and sparkles. The Jedi loved their younglings)
It took a while for everyone to settle down between the excitement of having Master Kenobi on crèche duty for the week and the pandemonium of getting to meet three new faces (the younglings very excitedly told them they did have different faces and they all felt different in the Force so basically they're just like the twins, Fehr and Bonni), but eventually the younglings began splitting off to play in smaller groups, dragging their new friends along. Watching all that go down, Kenobi let out a real laugh! The kind that shook his shoulders and crinkled the corners of his eyes! When was the last time Cody saw that? Christophsis?
Caught up in the memory of Commander Tano’s introduction to the Generals, Cody was startled when soft fingers tugged on his arm insistently. He was led to a spacious, well decorated art corner by a little orange haired girl who introduced herself as Maeve Mic-Kinn and ordered him to help add more flowers to her drawing. Armed with his new knowledge of the Jedi’s respect for all kinds of art, he took his assignment very seriously.
As he put his admittedly poor drawing skills to the test, Cody kept glancing over at his General. Every minute spent in the center of his home with the rising generation of young Jedi, Kenobi lost more and more of the chronically exhausted look that had haunted him since before their first battle together.
It was like watching him dramatically shed his cloak before a fight… except the cloak represented the consequences of being constantly stressed for months on end, and the metaphorical fight was allowing two chattering younglings put ribbons in his hair.
It was sweet.
Cody stifled a chuckle. Sweet was another description he never thought he'd use for any superior officer ever, let alone his own General. There were others: compassionate, sneaky, good, kind, thoughtful, bantha crap crazy, gentle, protective, selfless, loyal, self-sacrificing di'kut, to name a few. But he kept them to himself and the occasional anxious shiny in need of some reassurance. It wouldn't do for a Commander to potentially disrespect or undermine his General's authority. Not that Kenobi would take his observations as disrespect or insults. From what Cody could tell, he would rather be kind and gentle and thoughtful than a ruthless, unfeeling, warmonger who led faceless clones to their deaths in an unnecessary war as so many citizens of the Republic now viewed the Jedi. Blasted CIS propaganda. Blasted useless Republic holo-tabloids.
A high voice near his elbow interrupted his light introspection. “How did Master Kenobi get hurt?”
“He…” Cody hesitated briefly to simplify and censor the rather graphic truth, “…was fighting General Grievous just before we got to come back to Coruscant.”
“Oh,” The youngling frowned. “That's the scary droid guy that likes to attack Jedi and steal our lightsabers right? Did you fight him too? Is that how you got hurt?”
How did she know he'd been injured? The remaining bandages on his bicep were covered by his long sleeve blacks and armor. “No kiddo, I was fighting General Grievous' droid army. A blaster bolt caught my arm, but it's not too bad, already mostly healed up.”
“Did it hurt?”
“A bit. I’ve had worse though.”
“Did you cry?”
“Ah… no I didn’t. I didn’t want to worry my men too much.”
Maeve’s eyes widened. “Not even a little bit?!”
“Nope. Not even a little bit.”
“Wow! You’re really tough, Cody. I accidentally burnt my fingers when I first made my lightsaber a couple weeks ago and I cried a lot and it didn’t even hurt as much as yours does now!”
There it was again. Could she somehow sense the painkillers were beginning to wear off and an edge of pain was prickling around the wound once more? “Thanks kid. But how’d you know I was injured in the first place?”
His coloring partner just shrugged, “The Force said so. It’s all crinkly and scrunched on the outside like it hurts,” and went back to her nauseatingly bright meadow picture like that explained everything perfectly.
And maybe to another Force user it might have. But unfortunately for Cody, he was still pretty unclear on the details of the Force. What it could do, what it couldn't do. (Though he had heard the saying “Anything is possible with the Force”, he still didn't know if that meant literally anything was possible, or if it was more a reminder that the Force is unpredictable and to always be prepared for bizarre promptings and “funny feelings”.)
He was also still learning what abilities were commonplace amongst the Jedi, what was unique to his General, and whatever the fark was up with Skywalker.
“So you can sense when someone is in pain?”
“Kind of. Jedi can feel people’s emotions, especially when they’re projecting strong ones out into the Force.”
He’d heard that before, “So you’re constantly feeling other sentient’s emotions in addition to your own?”
“Not all the time! That’s kind of dangerous, especially for Initiates like us and little crèchlings… babies,” she amended at his puzzled brow. “Babies only know simple emotions like sad or happy or hungry or tired. Adult emotions are wayyy too complex for younglings to understand by themselves.” She wrinkled her nose, as though adult emotions were a brother’s crusty, stinky sock she’d just found in her tunic sleeve.
“You adults think about too much all at once and feel really big, confusing emotions, so if a baby’s natural shielding were damaged or worn away by too much all at once, it could hurt them really bad. We are taught mental shielding from practically the second we can understand the word and Crèchemasters are usually very very good at mental shielding for both themselves and for us when we need some help because we’re all still learning. Crèchemaster Vi’Ku’No’ is really good at it and always helps me build my box really strong when I need help.”
“So, adult Jedi like your Crèchemaster and General Kenobi have to hide their emotions to not hurt other force sensitives?”
“I mean, kind of. It's not really hiding them, so much as keeping a shield or a wall between the inside of your mind and the outside world so you can take care of your own thoughts and emotions privately. You can still feel and express them, but it’s not polite to go yelling about your emotions into everyone’s heads. And it’s not polite to listen in when someone slips up or forgets to shield.”
“Ah, so a two way shield. It’s to keep from getting overwhelmed from other’s emotions, and to keep from broadcasting your emotions out at other Force sensitives.”
“Yup!”
“Well… that explains the General getting after Skywalker for yelling when he's not even talking half the time.”
The little girl giggled, “Oh yeah probably! But there’s NOBODY else like Knight Skywalker! I met him a couple times! He’s very loud all the time even with his shields, and he’s so bright in the Force, it’s like looking into the sun, and Crèchemaster Vi’ says looking into the sun will damage your eyes so we shouldn’t do it. Knight Skywalker is so cool though! He has a robot arm! And he’s a hero with crazy plans!”
Cody chuckled. It was true, Skywalker's plans were crazy. In fact, based off some of the stories he's heard about Skywalker and Padawan Tano made Cody very, very glad he got the sane one of their little trio. Or… the relatively sane anyways. Regardless, Cody was glad to serve under his General, sane or not. He knew every unit in the GAR thought they had the best Jedi General, but they could keep bickering amongst themselves for second best because he knew the 212th had won that argument the day they were assigned to Jedi General Obi Wan Kenobi.
He recalled a moment just days ago as The Negotiator began its journey back from the front.
The General, still recovering from his “rather rough landing” (meaning Grievous threw him through three floors of crumbling, shelled out building to land in the rubble below), spent four and a half hours forgoing his decently comfortable desk chair in his private officer’s quarters for one of the almost-but-not-quite comfortable rec room chairs just so he could be near his men as he caught up on mission expense reports.
Cody remembered how the General heard one trooper bemoan his empty caf mug and immediately hopped up, despite his various half healed injuries to refill the pot.
Cody remembered how the General's face screwed up in pain briefly, before he smothered it down to a kind smile as he placed a full mug of caf in front of the surprised trooper.
Suddenly, Cody wondered if that was his own pain he felt or someone else’s? Surely if a youngling could easily feel he was injured, the General could too? Or was he better at shielding and could block it out? How often did the General have to suffer another’s pain when his shields slipped, or when he was too exhausted to hold them up? What about on the battlefield when there was so much going on that required his attention and so much pain and death nearby?
Another horrifying thought entered his mind before he could shut it down. How often did the General feel the deaths of his men intentionally? How often did he allow himself to feel as one of Cody’s brothers took his last breath on the battlefield, or in the med tent, or in the Negotiator’s sickbay. How often did he use that ability to comfort dying men in their last moments (Cody already knew he did that. It was one of the ways he showed he cared for his men. Cody just didn’t know how often, if at all, Kenobi lowered his shields to know exactly when he was needed, to feel, to empathize with the vode.)
Tearing himself from those gut wrenching what-ifs and maybes, Cody remembered the other little things the General did to show he cared about his troopers. Little things, like sharing a warm pot of tea with shinies who'd just lost a batchmate (did he feel that too?), or reworking plans with high casualty estimates to account for his men's safety, or making sure to memorize every name he could and then using those names. It was glaringly obvious just how much their General cared about his men. And in return, he had his men's loyalty forever. Cody’s now more than ever.
That was one reason the clones hated to see their General in pain so much, especially if it was on their behalf.
Kenobi gave Cody more gray hairs each time a battle plan went sideways and he ended up captured behind enemy lines, or he took off on his own to draw the majority of Seppie forces after him. For however much Cody trusted and understood his reasoning, the General was the main cause for his suffering hairline.
(He did understand though. He really did. Cody would pull the exact same osik for his vode if it kept them alive. If he admitted that out loud though, he'd be forced to recognize that both he and Kenobi utilized a very similar brand of insanity Skywalker regularly exhibited in his battleplans. And that was a hard mental line he wasn't yet willing to cross.)
But as the fighting went on, it was only getting more and more dangerous. Their General was making more and more desperate decisions to protect as many clone troopers as he could. Pulling stunts that put himself at high risk just to draw fire away from his men. It was terrifying. Because it was never supposed to be that way in the first place, the Jedi covering their retreat, shielding them, taking hits for them The clones were literally made for the Jedi! Not the other way around! They were cannon fodder made to lay cover fire for their Jedi to get to safety. They were the buffer meant to stand between the Jedi and danger. A shield for the shield. But as the Jedi risked their own flesh and blood and very souls for the people of the Republic. Those same people who more often than not, would rather turn around and vilify their only lines of defense for perceived slights and easy clickbait headlines than pick up a blaster and defend their own children and homes.
Defending their Jedi from clankers was a whole lot easier than defending them from “friendly” fire. Droids he knew how to handle. Droids he had been training to take out quickly and efficiently since his decanting. Droids were easy. Slanderous holonet articles, raging anti-war extremists, senators and planets outright refusing to aid the only people standing between them and mass destruction, even physical attacks from those the Jedi continued to staunchly defend despite it all? That was another matter entirely. That, Cody and his brothers couldn't defend against. Not with how hated they were themselves.
Because the clones, too, were just pawns in a galactic game of chess nobody but the Sith and the Separatist leaders (and probably a good number of Republic senators) wanted to be playing. The clones were there to take hits for the more important pawns on the board. Pawns like their Jedi, who were conscripted into this war against their will and forced to take leadership positions they'd never wanted. Positions that forced them to bend their morals and compromise on their beliefs in the worst ways possible.
At least with the training on Kamino they'd grown up with, the clones were conditioned for the kinds of decisions war forced its leaders to make. Used to the suffering it caused no matter the choice. At least they were somewhat prepared for the unending violence and unfairness of all out war. At least they were replaceable and easily reprogrammed if they fell short of their directives.
“You're not though”
“I'm sorry?!” Cody was once again torn from his meandering introspection by Maeve's abrupt interjection at his side.
She nodded sagely with tiny furrowed brows and big shining eyes, “Yes. I think you should be sorry. But not to me. I think you need to be sorry to yourself.” Cody was horrified to hear a tiny wobble in her voice! Scum of the earth! He's been here less than an hour and already made a kid cry!
“Whatever you were thinkin about was sad and angry and worryful,” she soldiered on, wobbly voice adopting a chiding tone that sounded rehearsed, as though this was something she'd heard repeated many times, “and those kinds of feelings are not productive.”
“What'd you mean, kid?”
“Master Sinube calls them rotten party guest feelings. You have to acknowledge them because all feelings are important and repressing them just causes bigger problems later, but if you let them stay too long in your mind and heart they can get destructive and make a mess and even hurt people.”
Cody nodded to show he understood, but barely held back a smile. Apparently, it wasn't just his General that went into lecture mode at the drop of a hat. Maybe it was just a thing all Jedi did? Fark, this was adorable! And deeply insightful for an eight year old, but also slightly unnerving on some level that she could read his thoughts and emotions so easily. The General rarely commented on anything he picked up. Did that mean he kept his mind well shielded? Or was he just too polite to mention anything? Or maybe this kiddo was just abnormally good at deciphering the meanings of emotions. Maybe he should ask if non-force sensitives could learn to shield their emotions and thoughts.
Maeve continued on, more confident now she knew her audience was listening intently. “You gotta feel those kinds of rotten party guest emotions, ask them why they're here today, see if there's anything you can do about it, and then show them out the door once you're done analyzing them!”
“You’re a very smart cookie, Maeve. Very wise. I think I’ll take your advice!”
Maeve's cheeks flushed bright pink with embarrassment, “It's not really my words though. Master Sinube taught me all that when I was worrying before my trials on Illum to get my Kyber. I was really nervous and he said that worrying only makes you suffer twice as much as you really need to. If I worry and succeed then I worried for nothing. But if I worry and fail, then I worry two times and then it's even harder to kick the worry out because it’s invited other friends along like guilt and fear and doubt.”
“Makes sense to me, and it's still good advice, kid.”
Darn good advice. Besides, he could gripe about the Senate and the war to Rex later when there were no impressionable minds to broadcast his negative emotions around.
He threw her a conspiratorial smile, “How would you like to give the rest of my men a formal presentation on dealing with bad party guest emotions so I don't have to deal with their petty squabbling over ration bar flavors during down time anymore.”
Maeve frowned again, “I don't think I can do that. I'm not supposed to leave the crèche without my clan and Crèchemaster Vi'Ku'No!”
“Well darn, I'll just have to ask him when he gets back.”
•••
Cody laughed and they finished up their drawing before he was pulled into a skipping game that involved jumping in colored rings on the floor while dodging various Force launched plushie projectiles.
Then he, Waxer, and Boil spent a good hour catching Force launched youngling projectiles with General Kenobi giving the younglings pointers on how to get higher and how to better control their landing. (They were very careful and Kenobi reassured him this was a common game the young ones in the crèche played often.)
The blaster wound on his arm was protesting loudly by the time mid meal was announced, but he refused to allow a little burn to be the end of their fun.
A very serious little Rodian boy noticed and patted his arm, asking if Cody would like a kiss to make it better because that's what Crèchemaster Vi' does and it always helps. He accepted graciously, shooting glares at his two giggling vode as a dozen younglings fought over who got to give the kiss (they eventually came to the conclusion that if one kiss made injuries feel better, twelve get better kisses would practically heal him on the spot).
And finally the whole mob set off towards the Initiate's Refectory where he ended up sandwiched between Maeve and a bright red orange Mon Calamari who introduced himself as Cris.
As they ate, (real food, not just army ration packs! Apparently it was bland and there was less of a variety to choose from due to the war, but to the clones and the General, it was 1000% better than the bricks of partly rehydrated sawdust or unappetizing clumpy beige paste they’d been living off of for the last four and a half weeks), Cody took in the many tables of younglings scattered throughout the refectory.
All ages, species, colors, and shapes. Chatting with friends, exuding joy and youthful innocence. So different from the mess halls he was used to with roughly the same face with only superficial differences to claim what individuality one could, all cramming in a meal before the next deployment, silently trying not to replay past battles, joking loudly to drown out the anticipation for the next one, exuding a strange mix of relief and regret, all awaiting the inevitable. It was nice to see the future they were fighting for shining brightly on the faces of so many younglings that had yet to see war up close. It was a nice reminder that not everyone hated them, that there was still something innocent and precious and good that cared.
These two little crèche clans had immediately befriended the first three clones they came in contact with, not dissimilarly to how the Jedi Generals and many Padawan Commanders immediately bonded with their units. It had little to nothing to do with surviving life or death situations together and constantly watching each other’s six, and everything to do with the easy compassion and the connection the Jedi Order invited with open arms.
It had been so natural. The clones were made for the Jedi, conditioned to trust and obey them from the day their batches were decanted, but that was all superfluous, unnecessary in Cody’s humble opinion.
The Jedi earned their loyalty and trust the moment they used their names. The moment they respected the clones as sentient individuals and fell in step with them easily. The direction they marched in and decisions made along the way were less easy, but the Jedi had stood by the clones from day one without wavering nor flinching. And the easy comradery Cody felt with the much younger Jedi Initiates, despite the short time they’d spent together, felt like a little piece of whatever jagged edges and icy shrapnel Kamino had left in his heart break loose and healed with each overenthusiastic question and delighted squeal.
Kriff. Maybe he should genuinely look more into what Maeve was talking about. He’d heard Kenobi talk about releasing emotions before they hurt someone and not letting emotions influence one's decisions. There was probably a lot more to it but it was probably sound advice. Cody nodded to himself, determining to ask the General about it later as their neat line of younglings and troopers followed them back to the crèche.
•••
After lunch was a short meditation time which Cody didn’t quite get but felt refreshed nonetheless. If he felt refreshed though, General Kenobi looked downright content! And now that he noticed it, he couldn’t ignore it. Throughout the rest of the afternoon and evening meal, Cody watches as the General quite literally transforms in front of his eyes.
Kenobi picks up a slobbery toddler who wandered over from another clan and the weight of war visibly lifts off his shoulders. He floats a couple of Dai Bendu Alphabet blocks with a trio of giggling younglings and the bags under his eyes lighten four whole shades of purple. He admires each scribbly drawing passed from stubby fingers to his roughly bruised ones and each new masterpiece brings a little more light back to his countenance.
It's incredible.
Cody honestly can't think of a moment since this kark blasted war began when the General didn’t look as tired as Cody felt. It has been so long since either of them, any of them really, clone or Jedi, had time to fully unwind and relax. And now, deep in the bowels of the Temple, surrounded by centuries of care and love, tucked as securely away from harm as one could be, the crèche is a sanctuary of stillness and peace. He almost thinks he can feel it sinking into the very core of his soul now that he’s paying attention. He basks in that warmth and light, knowing, seeing the evidence in Kenobi’s face and body language, that without a stronger connection to the Force, he isn't even feeling a puddle’s worth of the Light present here. And even with just that tiny shred of peace, first from his conversation with Maeve that morning, then the real, actual, homemade food, and the peaceful afternoon meditation, the stress of war is melting off his shoulders and his own near permanent exhaustion is beginning to fade. Though he briefly considers it might just be some kind of placebo effect from watching his General relax, he doubts it.
He knows he can’t feel the force like Jedi can, but maybe this is similar. Maybe as close as he’ll ever get. He finds peace in that thought. These kids really are something.
•••
Cody left just after the two clans settled down for bed with Boil and Waxer in tow, all three clones with multiple friendship bracelets and drawings that would be carefully cherished until the day they died. There had been many goodbyes and hugs and promises to visit again one day.
Kenobi stayed till the end of the week and when 212th’s leave finally came to an end, the General leapt from the not-quite-landed gunship returning him to the Negotiator. With a spring in his step and the brightest smile Cody had ever seen on the man. He looked younger. Fully Rested. Hopeful.
Cody knew then and there, he would be joining his General in all future mandatory shifts in the Jedi Temple Crèche.
•••
(I didn't have anywhere to put it but this is basically how this all happened):
(Mid battle, Cody and Obi Wan are joking back to back) Cody says something like “Third times a charm, Sir! If our leave gets delayed one more time, I'm storming the Chancellor’s office myself.”
“Agreed. By the Light’s Indubitable Grace I need a break.” The pair dashed up the hill and slammed their backs against an enormous tree stump in unison. “Three days, Cody, three days. I am quite literally counting the days till I can report for my mandatory rotation in the crèche and then sleep in my own bed.”
“Sir?” Cody risked a glance over at his General. “With all due respect, shouldn’t you be resting on leave, why are you scheduled for guard duty?”
“Oh not to worry, this is fun guard duty.”
They poked their heads over the top of the stump and Cody took aim at one of the remaining droids.
“Still… couldn't you reschedule it to later in your leave when you are more rested?”
The General laughed as he parried another bolt back at one of the few clankers still capable of pulling a trigger, “Oh I wouldn't dream of it! As I said, I have been counting the days. Serving in the crèche is a delight. Incredibly calming, I assure you.”
Cody just tilted his bucket in a way he knew conveyed Extreme Doubt. General Kenobi stubbornly refused to acknowledge it and batted a blaster shot away, taking out the last droid in this sector. “The council learned long ago that caring for children is the best way to decompress and recenter oneself after a particularly trying mission. I appreciate the assignment”
Cody’s Extremely Doubtful bucket tilt tilted even further, pulling his shoulders with it.
General Kenobi just shrugged and turned towards their next target, “If you do not believe me, my dear Commander, you are welcome to join me and see for yourself.”
And while he personally did not see the restful properties of babysitting a bunch of excitable, sticky little kidlets, the chance to see more inside the Jedi Temple other than the main atrium was not something Cody was gonna pass up. It was incredible from what little he had seen of the outside, and Cody did personally see the restful properties of wandering the bright, welcoming halls or napping in one of the many gardens. Or at least, it sounded restful and peaceful according to the anecdotes he'd heard from the General. He'd also like to see if all Jedi were as stubborn and stupidly selfless as Kenobi.
“You know what, Sir, I think I will.”