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It was a shock when the com-call reached them. General Windu was contacting the clones personally. A red flag that instantly had him on high alert, even though he was technically on leave, along with most of the 212th while their Jedi was having a rare few days off to spend in the temple.
The Jedi Master looked grim, even more so than usual when he told me that Obi-Wan was dead. Shot down in the streets of Coruscant on his way home from a night out.
It was such a mundane death, I found myself thinking, sidetracked, in the back of my mind. So unbefitting the great General Kenobi, who fought battles of scales that could barely be measured. And now he was shot on a simple night out, eating at Dex’s?
I suddenly felt like the floor drooped out from under myself, like that one time the artificial gravity on the Negotiator malfunctioned. I didn’t realize at the time, but Wolffee was physically holding me up during the call, or I probably would have collapsed where I stood for real.
“I am very sorry for your loss Marshall Commander Cody. For the time being the 212th will remain on planet, along with the 501st, until a satisfactory solution can be found. For all parties.” Windu assured, and I remembered clearly Obi-Wan’s wish of his battalion not being lent out to any other General.
I wanted to laugh, the 212th probably wouldn’t accept any other Jedi, but it wasn’t like we had much choice, especially not without the protection of our High General.
“We will hold a ceremony for Master Kenobi in a few hours, sadly the temple does currently not have the capacity to hold the entirety of your battalion, but if you wish to attend the wake with a small delegation you are welcome to join us Commander.” The korun Master finished.
Still stunned I nodded mutely and the call ended without me saying a single thing.
Wolffee helped me sit down, the other CCs I usually spent my leave with huddling around us silently. Belatedly I realized I was crying, they were shielding me from the glances of the other soldiers passing through the barracks. I still didn’t make a single noise, crying quietly was ingrained in the very soul of my being.
Obi-Wan would probably lecture me about mental health again, if he ever heard about that. Not that it mattered anymore…
Obi-Wan, I realized, was my world, or rather the only real hope I held for the world. Obi-Wan was the man I loved, of course, but he was so much more than that. Obi-Wan loved all the clones, he would make sure that we had a future, even when the war ended. Without him I couldn’t imagine a future, no after the war. Not only for myself, but for none of us clones…
Somehow, I managed to get my tear ducts under control again and stood. Before I could decide what to do though Rex came running towards us, tackled me into a hug that nearly had us topple to the floor again. “Oh vod!” He sobbed into my shoulder and I just held the younger clone for a moment, remembering myself and my position, my job, my calling.
I needed to tell the 212th. I needed to care for them, remember Obi-Wan’s will, the way he only wanted the best for all of us, the way he incorporated hope for many, not just myself. It was because he always saw the good, even in a galaxy like this. I wasn’t like that, but just for now, while the 212th was adrift, I needed to be like that. I couldn’t let them lose hope, not yet.
So, with a gentleness I usually found myself lacking with anyone that wasn’t the ginger Jedi I fell in love with, I pat Rex back and let him cry.
“I know vod’ika, I know.” I gentled and led the blonde to his bunk, the other Commanders following along as silent sentinels.
“The General, the Commander, they were both with him when it happened, but they couldn’t catch that bastard.” The Captain lamented and I sighed. Skywalker and Tano were so very young. Neither of them held the serenity I associated with the fully grown Jedi, they were emotional and vulnerable. Being there while their Master, their family was killed on their home-planet, a place that was supposed to be safe, even in troubled times like these… That was truly devastating.
Much like myself, they loved Obi-Wan, and for his sake, I swore that I’d keep an eye on them, even if they were both a pain in the ass most of the time. Trying to talk them out of the guilt they undoubtedly felt would probably be a good start.
After Rex calmed down, I invited him along to the Negotiator and called for the men to meet there. The 212th was wrecked. The last time I had seen them so broken down was Umbara, and those were… not good memories.
This time we didn’t even have the satisfaction of knowing the culprit was dead. Surely most of the men felt a desire for revenge that rivaled Skywalker’s and Tano’s, but the overall emotion was a deep well of sadness. I didn’t need to be force-sensitive to feel that, it was obvious when looking into the eyes of the men.
I gave them strict instructions to stay on the Negotiator. Leave was over, no escapades down on the planet. The last thing we all needed right now was a bunch of angry clones getting in the way of the Jedi’s investigations.
When evening came, I picked a few men to come along to the temple.
Rex had been glued to my side. He was an obvious pick, even though he wasn’t part of Obi-Wan’s personal battalion. After all, they’d been through a lot together, and I was sure, in a way the older Jedi viewed all of Skywalker’s men as his own, just like he viewed the hotheaded young General himself as his own.
Then there was Boil. He’d been more distanced since Umbara, since Waxer’s death, but he was also calmer, softer around the edges. Always stayed close to the General, always had his back. The vod looked like he hadn’t slept in weeks, but he looked grateful when I invited him along.
Barlex on the other hand looked quite surprised when I asked him if he’d like to join the burial. Barlex, after all, was one of the clones who showed the least amount of emotion. He was good at what he did, but he didn’t form many attachments, and still, I knew how he felt about Kenobi. I myself, was the same for a long time, takes one to know one after all.
He insisted he only came along because he enjoyed the thought of Fett turning in his grave when he found out that their Mandalorian bodies were part of an old Jedi ritual. I ignored the small tear that rolled down his gaunt cheek.
And last, but not least I led our small group to the med bay.
“You’ve all saved the General’s life countless times, spent hours upon hours on his care and went through horrors worse than most clones aboard this ship to keep this man safe. If it was my decision alone, I would take all of you to the wake, but sadly it is not in my hands. Five is already stretching the limits I’m afraid.” I stated to the room as a whole and watched the eyes of the medics move across several faces.
Anti and Cross were hanging around to the side of the group and were the first focus, but both of them quickly shot the idea down. “Nah man, we’re just field medics, way more proficient with blasters then with a scalpel. Ceremony, and spirituality isn’t for us, we’ll honor the General with a bang or something.”
“You should go, Vigil.” Splint interjected. “Out of all of us, you were probably the one to spend most time with Kenobi, changing bandages, giving meds, doing physical therapy and all that.”
The medic in question blushed. Vigil was a sweet guy, had amazing bedside manner, something that definitely made him stand out of the mass of gruff and rude medics. He’d definitely have been a good pick, I was sure Obi-Wan would have been delighted to have him come, if he saw, or felt it from the force. Or however that worked, right…
“Thanks.” He muttered, gaze going through the crowd before shaking his head. “It’s an honor, being offered to go to Obi-Wan’s funeral, but I think… I think Scrubs should go. You’re not only our head medic, but even though you always fought with the General, you definitely worked the hardest for his wellbeing. I think you had your hands in his innards more than some surgeons here on Coruscant ever have their hands in innards, like in total. You fixed him when he was practically dead meat, you knew all his allergies inside out, his diet, his old injuries, everything. So, please Scrubs, go to his Jedi ceremony thing. For all of us.”
Scrubs, much like Boil always had a temper, acted angry and annoyed whenever the General was around. They never saw eye to eye, especially not with Obi-Wan’s own personal wellbeing. A trait I always appreciated.
The clone was crying, hiding his face behind his gloved hand, but the little hitches in his breathing gave him aways. Vigil quickly hugged him.
“Okay, I’ll go.” He sobbed quietly and came along. It was dark by the time we reached the temple, the high towers looking ominous with the backdrop of the giant city sprawling beneath.
General Windu awaited us at the gates personally and the five of us bowed deeply when he greeted us.
The inside of the temple was sparely lit and I found myself wondering if it was always this dark by night, or if it was a part of the ceremony itself. We would’ve been lost for sure if it wasn’t for the Jedi Master guiding us.
And finally we stepped out on a small roof, the ground neither stone nor metal, but simple dirt. “Didn’t know that existed on Coruscant.” Balrex noted drily.
In front of us was a circle of stone pillars, a simple roof atop it, with the middle open for the sky, the earth scorched black.
Many Jedi were already collected beneath the roof and Windu led us right into their midst.
Skywalker and Tano were standing right in front of the pyre, their eyes glued to the body, covered by fabric in an eerily familiar shade of beige. The wood had not been lit yet, but both the General and his young pupil were clutching their sabers tightly.
Grandmaster Yoda was standing at the other side of the pyre, gaze fixed on our small delegation intently. It was weird, Obi-Wan always tried to reassure that few Jedi could actively read minds, and that Yoda was certainly not among them, and still, it felt like the little green goblin saw right through us.
Most Council members were standing by his side, I recognized Unduli, Mundi, Fisto, Billaba and of course Koon. Windu joined their group after giving me a small pat to the back. I nodded gratefully.
There were a few Padawan Commanders and some elderly Jedi I did not recognize, but also a few more familiar faces. I was especially surprised to spot Vos in the back. It was well known among the 212th that even though he’d been a close friend of our General, that Vos was not a very traditional Jedi, and as a rule, did not partake in many of their rituals.
It looked like the loss of a close friend could shake even the most steadfast among our Generals.
There was also a small delegation of politicians, Organa’s party to be specific. Bail had also been a close friend of Obi-Wan and I briefly found myself wondering if this was perhaps the first such ritual that was shared with outsiders, because the Jedi were giving them, as well as us a wide berth.
Belatedly I realized that Yoda was speaking, but I couldn’t follow his words. I didn’t really want to hear them speak about the man I loved as a person I didn’t even know. An Obi-Wan before the war, with family and history here in the temple.
The Jedi chanted a short verse in a language I didn’t understand, and then, Obi-Wan’s lineage lit their sabers. It should have been more, a whole circle going around the pyre, with Grandmaster and Master and Padawans and lineage sisters and brothers.
There were only three sabers, Yoda’s short green blade and Skywalker’s as well as Tano’s blue.
Windu, I noticed, was holding the familiar cylinder that was Obi-Wan’s saber, standing at Yoda’s side.
It was very quiet, except for the crackling of the wood and a few suppressed sobs. Ahsoka was openly weeping in her Master’s arms when the beige fabric caught fire.
The flames brightened the darkness, and the fire warmed the night until one after the other the Jedi left. I remembered Obi-Wan’s words from Umbara. The ritual was supposed to rid the grieving Jedi of the dark, of the hurt until only the positive emotion connected to the deceased remained. In a way, it was a very beautiful ceremony.
General Unduli was the one that led the politicians back into the temple after exchanging a few words with Senator Organa and Windu left on his own after a while, but quickly handed over the saber when he passed us by.
With great confusion I watched after the Korun Master, but Obi-Wan’s lightsaber felt comfortable in my grip, so I didn’t protest.
Skywalker only left when his pupil had cried herself to near exhaustion, Koon guiding the both of them back to the temple and I suddenly noticed that there were barley any Jedi left.
Most went with the Master Padawan duo and I guess you weren’t supposed to stay longer than the lineage. Vos was the one that came up to us, offering his assistance in getting us back to the gate without any of us getting lost in the maze that was the Jedi temple. Yoda was the only one that remained standing at the diminishing flames, murmuring quietly with what appeared to be only himself.
After that the days were long und dark. Our campaign was handed to another battalion, and for once I didn’t care enough to keep track of who it was, they sent in our stead, I just knew that the 212th was officially grounded for the time being.
The Negotiator was fully loaded, battle-ready, as were the clones aboard it. This was no leave, so we all remained in our quarters on the star destroyer, ate our rations, trained to keep us occupied while we waited for orders. I even had time to catch up on our… my paperwork for once.
The contact with Windu was scarce, the quality of his transmissions indicating that he was off planet, but he assured that he was still looking into the matter of finding us a suitable new General. It was hard, to find a replacement, not just for the sake of the 212th attack battalion, but as a leader for the entire third system army, that had been under Kenobi’s command since the very beginning of the war.
I also tried to keep contact with Rex, but it looked like the 501st was in an equal limbo of emotional turmoil and bureaucracy. Unsurprisingly General Skywalker was trying to track his Master’s murderer down, even against the orders of the council, though it looked like the Coruscant Guard let him investigate as he pleased.
Soon enough a bounty hunter by the name of Rako Hardeen was identified as the culprit, but still on the run, so the impulsive young Jedi left his troops behind on his chase off Coruscant and into wild space as far as we knew, cause he was not very keen on keeping in contact. Poor Rex, at least you wouldn’t notice his grey hair as much, with the blond and all.
It had been over a week by now, and the mood was terrible. In the mess a small corner had been dedicated to Obi-Wan’s memorial. It wasn’t much, really, just a Holo of him, a private one, with a crinkled smile on his face instead of one of the countless heroic shots of him for war propaganda. He always hated those pictures.
By it’s side lay the saber Windu handed me on the evening of his burial. I didn’t know why, but I somehow expected for it to be taken away again, Kyber was quite valuable after all, and a lightsaber was a dangerous weapon, a Jedi artifact, but the council never mentioned it again, no one took it away, so it remained in our hands. Not that anyone dared to touch it since I left it there.
The troopers regularly brought warm tea and Obi-Wan’s favorite biscuits, as well as little trinkets form all around the galaxy, old, painted pieces of armor and little flowers or animals artfully folded out of flimsy.
It was nice, beautiful even. I also couldn’t look at it without feeling my face contorting painfully, so I took all my meals in my private quarters instead.
I continued my work, advised other Commanders and Generals with their battle strategies, filed requisitions, checked equipment, trained, drank my caf as black as my soul. I also fell asleep with the feeling that I was suddenly missing a limp. The bed felt wrong, without the warm presence by my side.
Then there was also the dread. Ever trooper aboard felt it, the fear of what would happen to the 212th. It wasn’t looking good, they wouldn’t keep us stationary for much longer, a waste of resources, but they also wouldn’t find a replacement for one of the most capable leaders of this war in such a short amount of time.
They’d most definitely end with splitting us up. It would very much be against Obi-Wan’s wishes, but it would undoubtedly happen, probably also because the military knew that we wouldn’t exactly be cooperative if we felt our new General wasn’t up to par. There wasn’t much the council could do about that, after all they were only a single arm of the GAR. Skywalker tended to forget about that, but for me the limitations of council’s power were very much clear.
But then the farce was suddenly up. We’d all been lied to. Obi-Wan wasn’t dead.
It should have been a relief, but honestly? It wasn’t really, it only hurt more. The last week had been literal hell for the troops, for the 501st as well, not to mention his fucking lineage. I was at his burial, the grief had been real, the anger and the fear it was all real. But it wasn’t, it was a lie.
He’d been undercover, as Rako Hardeen, his framed murderer of all people, apparently saved the chancellor’s life on Naboo.
It was hard to find out who knew and who sanctioned the mission but Skywalker sure as hell hadn’t been included. He was the first one to come into view when the ship landed, and quickly stormed off to stars knows where, absolutely furious.
Tano wasn’t far behind, although she disappeared quietly into the shadows of the temple. Finally Windu stepped out of the transport, and by his side was the tattooed face I despised more than I’d done so ever before. Rako Hardeen, or rather, Obi-Wan. He was already dressed in a set of Jedi robes, though it was clearly not his own, though that probably wouldn’t have fit this strange body either.
For a second the beady eyes met mine and shone hopefully, but I turned my back and left quickly. It was hard to believe, and even harder to accept. I didn’t even try to sleep that night.
On the next morning, still bright and early I went to the mess. The memorial was gone, as expected, only the metal cylinder remained still untouched, the colorful things and pieces of love were long gone. The news hit hard. Of course most were glad on some level, that we had our General back, that the 212th would not be dismantled, but the betrayal was still smarting, the deep trust we held for the man was gone.
I simply grabbed my usual dose of caf as well as the left behind lightsaber and stationed myself at the main entrance, awaiting his arrival.
It wasn’t hard to greet the man as I would a total stranger, because, to be honest, he did not look like any version of Obi-Wan I’d ever seen. He wore his usual clothes an armor, but his head was shaven bald, and although his face was unmarred by that ugly tattoo, there was also no styled beard. Without the ginger hair he looked even more pale, his facial features to sharp and sever.
He smiled when he saw me, the wrinkles at the corners of his bright eyes familiar as he waved at me but his face fell when I only gave a court nod. “High General Kenobi.” I greeted coldly, feeling the eyes of all clones in the hangar on my back, probably burning holes into the Jedi’s front.
“Cod..Commander Cody. It’s… nice to see you.” He stuttered inelegantly, aborting a move to come closer, maybe even going for a hug, or more. He had expected a heartfelt welcome, or at the very least hoped for one. I snorted, met his eyes sharply and simply handed his weapon over like I’d done so many times before. The eye contact lasted no more than a second. It was overall not a reaction worthy by someone named the unfazed Negotiator, so I ignored his attempts.
“Did you bring our new assignment?” I asked when the silence got to be too much, especially considering that the hangar was supposed to be bustling with all the clones at work.
“Ahh, ah yes of course, our next mission, we’ll leave as soon as you’re ready.” He tried with his usual friendly and suave tone, though I quickly shut that down again. “We’ve been battle-ready for a week.”
I didn’t care for his reaction, so I instead turned and marched away towards the bridge, simply expecting him to follow so he could instruct our command staff and navigation team, as was his job for stars sake.
He did. His tone stayed friendly and professional the entire time. He looked frankly terrible though, not just because of the entire shaved bald like an egg issue, but also tired. He’d been undercover for a whole while, and I heard the transformation process was quite painful. I could feel for him on an objective level, because it was hard, no day of rest and we were already being deployed again, to what would probably be a bloody hard battle if the intel was anything to go by. Not to mention, that the mood on the bridge was frigid.
We still worked together well, his strategies were still brilliant, and he still listened to the opinions of his troops, although he was only coldly referred to by his rank. I heard he was in our shared office often, so I didn’t go there. In the mess he still sat at his usual table in the midst of the clones, but he sat there alone now.
It stayed that way even on the battlefield. No clone openly defied him, no one shunned him openly, unlike Skywalker who’d loudly declared his displeasure at the betrayal and act petty whenever he got the chance to do so.
The battalion still worked well, the battle went well, he was handed his rations and checked over by the medics and all as normal. But in a way he was also always alone.
I kept an eye on the situation, it was of course in my best interest to keep the 212th running at it’s best and that included the General, but I also kept my distance, tried to keep my presence hidden. I wasn’t sure if I could do that, or if the force gave me away, but I just couldn’t stand to get close. Just looking at him hurt, the thought of touching was unbearable, even though I still spent most nights curled up on my side, missing the weight that was supposed to be there in my arms…
I had to say in his favor, that the Jedi accepted all this and endured it silently. He kept coming to the mess and sat alone at his table in an otherwise crowded space. He kept training, doing his katas in view of everyone, he kept going to the office, left the door open for anyone, though nobody would visit him anymore, not with tea or a reminder to eat, and not with complaints or wishes as many troopers had done in the past. He kept going to the bridge and the hangars, checking the progress and materials. And he did it all without complaint. Without any attempt to mend the deep grooves his betrayal carved, no touches or personal talks, only professionalism. He even kept calling me Commander Cody politely.
It was nice. It gave us a chance to forgive him at our own pace, and for most it worked, at least gradually. Not that he was allowed to see that just yet. We were still angry, still kept our distance, but he was also still a genuinely good General. If he’d keep his work up I was sure he’d gain back the trust of his men. Even my own. For now I kept showing him the cold shoulder, but I could feel the longing at my core. I wanted to forgive him, I really wanted to, but for now it still hurt too much.
It was quite a long stretch of just mission after grueling mission, many many battles, reconnaissance, barricades, just work work work, and it was wearing us all out, but especially the General, that much was clear. It was possibly the longest stretch of time we’d ever been away from Coruscant and it didn’t look like we’d be granted leave any time soon.
The General… Obi-Wan was a Jedi and they weren’t solitary creatures by nature. He still had his meetings with the council, but other than that his contacts were very limited since the whole Rako Hardeen incident as we came to call it. The actual undercover mission was still redacted, some of the slicers had tried to find out more about the reasoning the General possibly had with keeping all this to himself, but it looked like it may have been out of his hands. The thought made me feel bad… Especially considering how utterly shitty the ginger looked.
His hair was slowly growing back, still more fluff atop his head than his usually well-groomed self, but at least the beard was coming along nicely, though it didn’t help with keeping his hollow cheeks hidden. He lost weight, actually a considerable amount if his face was anything to go by, armor and robes hiding the rest of his bodyefficently. The dark circles under his eyes hadn’t left since he came back from the dead, but had instead grown steadily larger.
His arm was also still in a sling after the last altercation with Grievous. The Cyborg had completely crushed the appendage under his foot and the fracture was too complex to just dunk it in bacta, instead requiring multiple surgeries to fix it. There were still two more scheduled and already we were on our way to another mission.
Obi-Wan stopped showing up at the mess. He also didn’t train anymore, which shouldn’t be unusual considering his injuries, but come on, it’s Obi-Wan, he never listened to a damn thing the medics told him!
He still did his work metiliciously, he was at the bridge, did his rounds, but the office went unused. Most of his time was spent in his quarters. Not that I keep tabs on him or anything like that… Well, I had the shinies to do that for me, but anyways.
I worried, and I wasn’t the only one. Sure, the troops were still avoiding him, but most had forgiven him at this point. There was a murmur in the mess the day before we were supposed to reach our next battleground, and finally someone stepped up to me.
“Commander, we can’t find the General anywhere.” Quart, a young pilot spoke up, saluting in front of me. I gestured for him to be at ease and sit, after all I was still only nursing my second cup of caf. Usually it would not be worrying, Obi-Wan was notoriously hard to be found when he did his rounds, he kept stopping, talking to troops and visited every last corner of the Negotiator once in a while, as if the ship itself would feel neglected if he didn’t.
But in the last couple of weeks the Jedi had become more and more reclusive. If he wasn’t in his rooms or on the bridge, I frankly had no idea where he could currently be and why. Ich swallowed my black sludge down quickly and crumpled the cup in my fist.
“It’s really no big deal, I’m sure he’s just wandering somewhere.” I dismissed him superficially, but my men knew how to interpret my face by now. It was a reassurance, everything was fine, after all the Negotiator was quite a safe place, wherever the General was, he’d be fine. “I’ll look for him, keep me informed if he suddenly decides to show up.” No search party required went unsaid, and the tension diminished, the troopers going back to their meals or posts.
After that I wandered the ship by myself, remembering all the times I had done so by the Generals side. He spoke of the ship fondly, touching the humming durasteel walls while he visited all the different stations aboard. I did the same and somehow, I could feel it, or maybe it was just a memory telling me to go to the engine, wishful thinking, imagination. In the end it didn’t matter much.
The very core of the Negotiator was sparsely visited, the reactors were quite reliable after all and didn’t need much besides fuel and some inspections every once in a blue moon.
He liked the mechanics down here, they were a weird bunch, much like the rats at Dex’s they never really saw the sun. He used to feed them scraps. The rats of course, not the mechanics, those he would beacon to the outside whenever he had the time to. He also liked the hum of the reactors, said it represented the very soul of the ship and all that lived in it, it was home.
Obi-Wan felt lonely. I knew he did. And as we currently did not want his company he went to the ship for comfort in time of need. Suddenly I felt so very guilty…
I had been cold, harsh, even though I knew he had a hard time. The Hardeen mission, the deception of his loved ones had definitely hurt him as much as it did us, and it wasn’t like he had much of a choice in the matter… Probably. After all I couldn’t know, because that stubborn man never fucking told anyone when something bothered him. We didn’t even give him a chance to tell his side of the story.
I swallowed hard while wandering deeper into the belly of the ship, feeling a sudden urgency. The Jedi in question would probably say something along the lines of: “I have a bad feeling about this” I myself did not have even a whiff of force sensitivity, but I still had an uncanny ability to tell when my General was in a pinch, and right now? That feeling was off the chart, though I attributed it mostly to my guilt about the current situation.
Shortly after I learned that it wasn’t simple paranoia, because when I was about to climb another ladder, I saw a dark heap at the bottom of it that was definitely not supposed to be there.
“General?!” I called down alarmed. The lump of dark cloth twitched and groaned weakly so I skipped most of the rungs on my way down in a hurry.
It was his familiar cloak, although the figure looked much smaller than I was used to. “Cody?” He asked disbelievingly when I knelt by his side and touched his face to get him to finally look at me, really look at me, and what I saw did definitely not ease my mind. His face was so angular, so thin and pale…
“Yeah, it’s me.” I answered softly, which only seemed to confuse the poor man more. “What are you doing down here?” He asked me and I chuckled softly to myself while I helped him sit up. “I could ask you the same. Did you fall?” I questioned instead, worriedly eying the height of the ladder.
Obi-Wan seemed to think about it for a while, hissing in pain when I brought his injured arm back into the sling. “Just passed out for a second I reckon.” He answered. He was shaking, got whiter the more upright I got him until he flinched away, stayed curled up on the floor.
“Did you hurt yourself?” I worried, carefully guiding my hands along his limbs, neck and back. The General was shivering for real now, like a newborn fawn, shock?
“Not much.” He whispered back, his voice strained by pain that opposed his words, his fingers finding the small gash at the base of his skull that was clearly visible due to the new shortness of his hair.
“Obi-Wan.” I murmured softly, pleadingly when he flinched away from my touch again. The Jedi sobbed, quite loudly in the silence of the deserted hallways. “What are you doing here?” He repeated himself, facing away, his watery voice making it obvious that he was crying. Pain? Shock? A displacement activity? Or grief?
“I was looking for you.” My own voice was shaking. “Why?” He instantly asked back and it was my turn to flinch. Of course he had every right to ask, we hadn’t interacted in any way that wasn’t strictly necessary since he came home, and still it hurt, after all, I loved him, even after all that happened…
“I was worried. Most of the troopers were worried. They pointed out, that you’ve not been seen in a while, weren’t in your rooms.” Carefully I laid my hand on the heaving flank, feeling the thin waist of the man I loved. He had lost so much fucking weight, we should’ve intervened sooner.
The ginger laughed, he laughed until the sounds morphed into sobs, curled up on the floor in the dark. This time he didn’t flinch away when ich laid my arms around him.
“I’m sorry, I’m so very sorry Cody.” He still sobbed and I soothed my hands down his knobby spine. “It’s alright.” I tried to reassure him. “It’s not.” He disagreed heavily. “They… I made you attend my funeral for force’s sake. I betrayed your trust. I hurt you.” He sobbed, for once absolutely inconsolable. I hummed. He was right, it had hurt very much, I couldn’t argue with any of that.
“I forgive you. It took time for me to accept what happened and I obviously can’t speak for the 212th on this matter, but I understand now. You probably didn’t have much choice, orders are orders, even for the Jedi, even for the council. I understand.”
For a long time Obi-Wan only cried harder, but he let himself be held, buried his tear soaked face in my shoulder when I turned him to face me. “I’m so sorry my dear.” He kept repeating, so I stroked his short hair, assuring him until it got better. Exhaustion seemed to weigh him down heavily, and every attempt I made to get the older man out of his curled-up position had him whining. My worries grew.
“Obi-Wan, when was the last time you ate or drank something?” I questioned seriously. The answer was as expected, sadly. “I don’t know.”
“Where does it hurt, cyare?” I tried to get him to stand, but the Jedi cried out in pain again, so I settled him on my lap carefully instead. “Everything hurts, feels like I’m fucking dying.” He admitted, panting heavily. His good arm was clutching the broken one to his chest while trembling, then there was the head injury, the legs looked good, the pain in his core seemed to be the issue. Hunger pangs, maybe a stomach ulcer or something. “Stomach?” I inquired, skillfully ignoring the comment about death.
Although I was angry about the faked one and the subsequent resurrection, I didn’t want to imagine actually having to attend such a wake ever again.
“Yes, very much.” He hissed from behind gritted teeth. “I’m going to call a medic down.” I stated firmly, comm already in my hand, when the General attempted to protest. “They’re angry with me. They’ll be so angry.”
“They will be, because they hate seeing you in pain. They are already worried, don’t make it worse.” I answered factually before going for a softer tone again. “They’ll forgive you too. Probably already have. Well, maybe not Scrubs, but you know how he is. All angry outside, with the force presence of a purring cat, at least that’s what you said.”
After the com beeped it was silent again for a while. “I hated that force-forsaken mission from the very start.” The man in my lap finally admitted, leaving his stoic professionalism behind for a second of vulnerability. That was okay, just between the two of us. It used to be normal, to decompress together at the end of a hard campaign, anger, a good cry maybe, hugs, and warmth and love. He’d been deprived of any such thing for a long time. Even though it wasn’t the same, I still had my brothers to do that with, Obi-Wan on the other hand had been pretty much cut off from his Jedi brethren since that fateful mission, his last impression of home being Skywalker’s outrage.
“You were lonely.” I stated my thoughts out loud and again, the man gave a wretched, loud sob, an agreement clear as day. “Yes. Very.” Tears were still streaking down his face, muscles still trembling wildly. “It’s okay. I promise, everything’s gonna be okay.” I soothed him until two medics arrived with a stretcher.
There were some bruises from the fall, the small gash patched itself up within a few days with a little bacta. They had to do another surgery on the arm, but they had to do that anyway. The weight loss was drastic, but not yet critical. After a few days in the medbay with IVs and nutritional slush he was all better.
Though in my head I was sure that the medical care was actually negligible this time around. The medics talked to Obi-Wan, they touched him with great care and gentleness. I visited as often as I could, held his hand, ate by his side. It was mainly emotional healing, I had to admit, for both of us.
After that the atmosphere aboard the Negotiator took a turn for the better. Finally.
Our campaign was handed to another battalion, due to the unforeseen health incident of our General, so we had some downtime. It wasn’t leave, that was still not granted for another two months, but it was something.
Obi-Wan came to the mess again, and I sat by his side. Slowly everyone else returned to the table. There were casual touches and soft smiles, friendly banter and teasing full of sharp wit. The Jedi was invited back into his usual sparing groups and movie nights, when he stepped into a hangar he was once again greeted by eager waves and shouting. He was the General again, in a fond kind of way, for some even Obi-Wan, no more cold. The Jedi were social creatures after all, and so we finally began to heal from the ordeal. All of us.