Work Text:
The Vigilance limped towards the Outer Rim. Scorch marks lined the hull, smoke drifting behind it. The Resolute, in almost worse shape, limped along beside her. An escape, bought at a heavy price. On the bridge, Obi-Wan stared sightlessly at the stars; mind numb, heart aching in his chest.
Betrayal. So much grief and loss and death. The Force screamed with it, balance shattered, howling with the aftershocks of so many lives extinguished too soon.
There was so much to do. Decisions to be made. Men to look in on. Communications to be sent. All Obi-Wan could do was stare at the stars. Half a rotation ago it had seemed so easy. Defeat Grievous, end the war in one fell swoop. Diplomacy could resume, the Separatists could be brought back into the fold.
He'd killed Grievous, was preparing to liberate Utapau. And then Cody had received a transmission. An order he wasn't supposed to be able to ignore. Order 66.
They were the lucky ones. Their reward, to endure. Obi-Wan, Cody, the 212th. Others, most others, weren't as fortunate.
"It isn't your fault."
Oh, but it was. Didn't Anakin see?
If he'd spoken up. If he'd sided with his brother and Ahsoka sooner, pushed the Jedi Council harder. If they'd damned politics and public opinion enough to confront Palpatine without proof. If Obi-Wan had commed every other general, hounded them until they did as he asked just to shut him up. If he'd been as much of a nuisance as he knew he could be. If he'd thrown his weight around, badgered and pestered and tried harder maybe they wouldn't be in this position. Maybe they'd have had a chance.
Anakin circled before him, stubborn as he had ever been. His hand reached out, trembling slightly, yet there. Present in ways Obi-Wan could never admit how grateful he was for. "It's not your fault."
They were on the bridge, in full view of the men who - now more than ever - looked to them for guidance. This was not the time to let his emotions get the better of him. In the space of a heartbeat, he'd lost hundreds of his kin. Could feel nothing of the others through the trauma in the Force. Every breath came at a struggle, like he was screaming into a void.
Yet, not all was darkness.
There was hope, however fragile.
The bonds he had with Anakin and Ahsoka were dim, but stubbornly shone on. A light in the darkness. A grounding warmth calling him from the brink, reminding him he wasn't alone.
Bowing his head, Obi-Wan covered his mouth with his hand, shoulders slumping a hair deeper.
Don't dwell on the past, be mindful of the present. Qui-Gon's words were wise, as always, but his master had never lived through something like this. He defied even Qui-Gon Jinn to not blame himself if he has survived when so many hadn't.
Part of him wanted to crumple forward, to let the grief pulsing through the Force overwhelm him as it had once before. But the echo of Qui-Gon's voice and the warmth of Anakin's hand grounded him enough that another part spoke up louder. Duty. To Anakin and Ahsoka. To Cody. To his men. To the scattered ashes of the Republic. To the few Jedi still out there amongst the stars.
For their sake, he straightened. Forced his gaze away from the stars, meeting Anakin's eyes as evenly as he could. There would be time for him to break later, in private, now he had more important things to do.
"How are our men?"
Anakin's jaw tightened, muscles jumping in his face. “Sedated, heavily. Most in their bunks. Fives and the medics are cycling through them as quickly as they can, but we have a lot of men and not enough bacta for them all.”
Obi-Wan nodded, trying to gather his scattered thoughts. A plan. They needed a plan. Not just to run and hope for the best.
“If you and Ahsoka hadn't begun de-chipping our troopers. If you hadn't come to Utupau when you suspected…”
Anakin squeezed Obi-Wan's arm, face lined in grief. “There was nowhere else I could have been,” he promised. “Snips and I, Rex, we...” Anakin trailed off too, neither of them brave enough to follow the thoughts through the the inevitable what-if conclusion.
Obi-Wan stared out at the stars, searching for a subject that didn't wound. Couldn't find one. “Have Bail and Padmé been back in touch? Have they found anyone else?”
Anakin shook his head tightly. “No. But I feel in my heart, we are not alone.”
A small consolation in the face of the hundreds, thousands of Jedi they had felt die. But comfort.
“We have to find bacta, and a safe system in all this chaos. We must regroup. If we are found now-”
“Like shooting womp rats in a barrel,” Anakin conceded, facing the viewport too. “I know, Obi, we're dealing with it. Trust me, and Padmé and Bail.”
Of course he trusted him, them. There was no question. But Obi-Wan was a high general, a Jedi master of the council. He was the Negotiator. He had to do something. Think. Plan. Prepare.
If he didn't, his thoughts would be in a bacta tank in the medbay with his heart. And he couldn't- if he faltered now it would-
“Obi-Wan.”
Obi-Wan turned to his brother, feeling the concern flowing from him. “Very well,” he acquiesced. “I trust you. I will be-”
“I know,” Anakin squeezed his arm one final time. “It will be okay. In the end.”
He left the turbolift out near the medical bay, Obi-Wan hearing echos of happier times. Cody's voice teasing him that he thought he hadn't known where the medbay was. Asking if it was some special natborn day, a celebration if Obi-Wan was down here conscious and of his own volition The corridor was silent. Troopers lined the walls, each occupied with their own thoughts, their own private grief, the turmoil of the day still roiling inside of them.
As one, then another, noticed them, Obi-Wan could feel a spark of hope igniting. Their men trusting Obi-Wan to be in control, to know the answers, to have a plan.
How was Obi-Wan supposed to tell them what they wanted to know? That the Kaminoans had created them with a chip in their heads that would rob them of their free will, their individuality, themselves. He knew whispers were already circulating, begun the moment Rex had ordered those still in possession of themselves to shoot to stun only. Continued with every trooper carried into the medbay. Continued with each one released chip-free and reeling.
But how could he explain, when he would have to admit that they had known. Known but had simply run out of time to save more of their brothers.
Obi-Wan gathered himself, pulled on the mask of a calm and controlled Jedi. The General they needed to see.
"They will be well," he promised, offering a nod, a smile, a comforting touch to every trooper he passed. “They will be well.”
Obi-Wan hovered outside the medbay doors, steeling himself for what he knew he would find inside.
Every bed occupied. Med droids and medics and Fives supervising the whole operation. Men, his and Anakin's, unconscious. Chips piled on silver trays. Something so small responsible for so much pain.
No.
No the chips. Not even the troopers. Palpatine. He was to blame. Not their men. Not any of them.
Fives looked up as he entered, worry breaking the stoic mask of his face. “General.”
Here was when Obi-Wan should ask for an update, check in on the progress of de-chipping the troopers.
“How is he?”
Fives turned, staring at a bacta tank in an adjacent room. Obi-Wan had called it home more than his fair share during this war. Obi-Wan didn't follow his gaze. Not yet.
“Healing.”
Hope.
Obi-Wan had the feeling he would come to loathe the emotion soon. For now, it fluttered warmly in his chest. Softening a memory he knew would be a nightmare for years to come.
He'd been riding Boga (currently occupying Ahsoka and some of the more shaken troopers in the hangar), climbing the cliffs up to the upper levels on Utupau. The Force had been buoyant. His happiness. Cody's sun bright joy. Anticipation of ending the war.
And then Cody's sun had dimmed. Obi-Wan felt his pain, a burst of agony and surprise. He'd looked down. Anakin was standing over Cody, surrounded by his own men. Cody was down, a blaster hole bored through his chest plate. Anakin was holding the blaster.
Only his love for his brother saved him. And Ahsoka and Rex explaining through a rain of stun blasts and pain through the Force. Anakin fighting by his side, fighting off their corrupted men and the waves of loss and grief. Anakin's voice repeating over and over again.
I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I did it to keep you safe. I'm sorry.
Obi-Wan pressed his hand to the warm glass of the tank. Stripped down and floating in the liquid, Cody looked so peaceful. The blaster burn still stark against his skin. He didn't envy Cody this peace, though he knew his dear Commander would. He'd lecture Obi-Wan about wasting bacta, about saving it for someone important. As if he wasn't one of the most important people in the Galaxy to Obi-Wan, even before the purge.
“Heal,” Obi-Wan whispered, stroking his fingers back and forth. “You'll need your strength. I'll need your strength.”
No. He didn't envy Cody his rest at all. Nor did he envy him the world he'd wake up in. An Empire. So many of his brothers dead. Traitors. Puppets. A grieving lover. A new war to fight.
Obi-Wan leaned his forehead against the glass, grounding himself in the flickering warmth of Cody's presence.
Everything was wrong.
Everything was broken.
There was hope.
Cody's warmth reached back.