Work Text:
There are ways in which the clones are all different, and there are ways in which they are all the same.
In the force, as otherwise, they are distinct individuals. Each infinitely unique from the others, creating a beautiful tapestry where their creators intended only identical compliance. Out of almost nothing, they had formed a whole world.
But the clones are also versions of the same template; permutations of an urtext. They share a metaphysical silhouette.
Sometimes, when he’s completely wrung out at the end of a battle, it gets hard to distinguish anything from the monophony in the force that is 'clone'. Sometimes it's like the same person is dying over and over again.
(Sometimes, it's hard to stay in the present because a person is only supposed to die once and yet someone just keeps dying, and time refuses to move forward, and he cannot separate the grief he feels for each death when they're all becoming one in his mind and the weight of it, the death, the grief, is rapidly becoming too much, a never ending ostinato overwhelming the rest of the soundscape.)
Some days, it's like losing Cody over and over again, only to find him standing right there.
Cody was starting to panic just a bit.
He needed to stay calm. Because Obi-Wan was already freaking out, and if Cody freaked out too, it’s just make things worse. Right? That’s probably how the force works.
They were tucked in a corner off a hallway on the Negotiator. Something had seemed wrong for a while now, but Cody figured he’d get Obi-Wan back to his quarters and they could take care of it there.
They didn’t make it that far before Obi-Wan’s breathing got rapid, heavy, painfully loud.
What was he supposed to do? Say to his general, ‘please calm down so you can tell me how to help you calm down’?
Cody pushed their combined masses further out of view and lowered Obi-Wan to the ground.
He'd seen this before; with shinies when they were new to real combat, with older vode who'd been worn thin but had to keep going, with his batch mates when they tried to talk about it. That didn't mean he ever really knew what to do.
Helplessness was perhaps his least favorite feeling, especially when it came to Obi-Wan. Beyond his sense of duty (the clones were made for the Jedi, who was he if he couldn't serve them?), he saw Obi-Wan's burdens and pain, and he wanted it to stop. He hurt by proximity and his beloved deserved better than this. They all did.
But he didn't know how to take the pain away, could only do so much of Obi-Wan's paperwork, didn't have the power to force the entire GAR and Jedi Order to take a vacation, and he didn't know what to do to help Obi-Wan breathe.
They sat crouched in the corner. Cody’s ears were filled with the sound of air scraping against Obi-Wan’s pharynx as his love’s hand gripped his.
They weathered it as they did everything else they had faced. Overwhelmed, in over their heads, they had no choice but to keep going, and so they did, together, until Obi-Wan's lungs had calmed and his eyelids sat heavy in a haze.
They took a moment to be still before standing, still one being with four legs varying in stability, bodies linked by a familiar grip. They journeyed the halls with their steps in sync and their biceps pressed together. Obi-Wan kept his eyes low out of weariness, an affect which matched the loose grief of the last battle as if they were made for each other.
“Sometimes it’s just a bit much,” he whispered.
They’d made it to Obi-Wan’s quarters, left the lights low as they stripped out of battle-stained attire and cocooned themselves in bed. They laid together, each burrowing into the other’s body as if melding their flesh could ease their aches.
“Aren’t there people who can help with this? Mind healers?”
“Yes.” The word, the breath fell to the mattress and filled the gaseous space between their faces. “I tried once. I… you have to open up, be willing to talk about this stuff. I couldn’t. It hurt.”
“More than this is hurting you now?”
Cody’s voice was soft with concern and understanding.
“No. But it’s not that simple. To just keep living, even if I’m barely holding myself together - I can manage that. To… to tear myself up so I can be put back together better… I couldn’t make myself do it. It was agony, Cody. Despite what you might believe, I do have some sense of self-preservation. I couldn’t do that.”
Cody shifted on the bed, pulling his fingers free of Obi-Wan’s grip to wrap his arm around his partner’s shoulders. “I think... that sometimes things have to hurt before they can heal. Cuir is always saying ‘it’s gonna feel worse before it feels better.’”
“I know, Cody. You’re right.” He pressed his face into the corner between Cody’s chest and the bed, feeling the hazy echo of panic fade in favor of the exhaustion that was making its home deep in his lungs. “Maybe I’ll try again after the war.”
“After the war,” Cody echoed. It was as much an agreement as a prayer.