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Cody's General was hiding from him.
Usually, Cody would give him the space he clearly needed, tucked away in a hidden corner, apparently, meditating and recentering himself. He often had to after bad missions. 'I am only mortal, my dear.' his General had said once. 'I might have seen a great number of truly awful things, but that doesn't mean I'm not affected by them. I need time to grieve, to process, just the same as anyone else.' And as it was Cody's brothers he was grieving, well. Cody could give him the space he needed.
His General had never taken more than quarter of a cycle to meditate before. Popping back up afterwards as infallibly serene as ever. This had been a particularly bad engagement, and Cody only started to worry once his General had been gone for the entire cycle. His General's sense of responsibility should have brought him back before then, with complete disregard to his own mental state.
They're now well into the third cycle.
Cody is all too aware that his General won't have eaten in that time. Unlikely to have slept either. If he's crawled into a hidden corner and marched on from a concealed wound, Cody's going to drag his shebs back to life and kill him himself. If Artery doesn't get there first.
Cody's worried enough to consider comming Lance and asking him to ping the subdermal tracker he'd injected their General with, but that would be a breach of trust. Cody will use every resource he has at his disposal first, before resorting to it. He has a sneaking suspicion that the General might not know the tracker is there. And, well. Cody has a lot of resources at his disposal.
Tooks has activated his army of mouse droids. Acee is keeping an eye on the vent sensors. Artery and Staples are combing the ship muttering darkly about checkups, hoping to flush him out.
The Negotiator is Cody's domain. Nothing should happen aboard without him knowing about it. Not even Jedi.
When another quarter cycle passes without any sign of their wayward General, Cody reassesses. It is obvious that his General cannot or will not come to them. They would have found him by now had he been incapacitated. Which means he's deliberately hiding from them. Deliberately choosing to abandon what he views as his responsibility, his duty, to them. Which is not something he would ever do.
Unless he thought that his absence would keep them safe.
Unless he thought he was a danger to them.
Cody sighs heavily, grabs a handful of ration bars, and heads to his General's quarters to make tea. Then, mug in hand, he makes his way to the brig.
He's going to have words with his Sith.
Cody's General is sat in the furthest cell. The one with the force suppression. Which is on. The door locked. He's sat in his usual meditating pose, but with his head bent, his back to the door.
Force, the dramatics of this man.
He doesn't look up as Cody walks towards him, footsteps louder than they need to be. Sue him, Cody is extremely annoyed with his General. And as his General can't feel it in the force, he needs some other way to mark his displeasure. Fall or no fall, there was absolutely no need to make him worry like that by disappearing for three kriffing cycles.
Cody keys open the cell door, releasing the suppression, and ignoring his General's sudden desperate "Cody, don't -"
Which is interesting. Because Cody had always believed that the General used the force to tell them apart. But the General must have recognised his footsteps, or just known that Cody would be the one to find him.
Cody steps into the cell, walks around to face his General, and looms over him. His back gained a line of tension as soon as Cody started typing into the keypad, and it hasn't relaxed.
Cody fishes into his pocket with his free hand and throws a ration bar at his General's bowed head.
"You have gone three cycles without eating." Cody informs him. "You will eat at least two of these," he bounces another off copper hair, "And you will drink the tea."
He leans down to press the mug into folded hands, that grab and steady it automatically.
His General looks up, finally, eyes a glowing gold. 212th gold.
Cody snorts. Of course they are.
"Very dramatic, Sir." He placates. "Drink your tea before it gets cold."
Golden eyes blink, it's the closest his General ever comes to looking surprised.
"Cody," he says, confused, "are you patronising me?"
"Of course not, General." Cody reassures in his best non-patronising tone of voice.
Golden eyes narrow, and Cody stares innocently back.
His General breathes out a long sigh, as if Cody is the one being dramatic, then looks down at the mug of tea as he turns it between his hands. He seems perplexed by this as well.
"I hope you haven't suddenly forgotten what tea is, Sir." Cody gripes. "There's a lot of it on the ship and I don't know who else is going to drink it if you won't."
Golden eyes flash at him, annoyed, and Cody should probably not find that startlingly attractive.
They're probably done with the GAR, all things considered, and Cody is really looking forward to spacing the regs book.
"I can see why you felt the need to hide in here, Sir." Cody states, and hides a smug grin as his General relaxes slightly at the words. "With eyes that pretty," Cody continues, "half the battalion would probably try and seduce you. Have you heard Stanza's attempts at poetry?"
His General's head snaps up in shock. Cody stops hiding his grin.
"I was under the impression that flirting with Sith was the recommended tactic, Sir."
"Is this a trap then, my dear? Have you drugged my tea, am I about to die of a slow poison or get sedated into sleep?"
Cody folds his arms, absolutely unimpressed.
"If you believe I could hurt you, then you know me less well than I thought."
"Cody, my dear," his General says, "I'm a Sith."
"Yes, Sir." Cody agrees. Because that is a rather obvious and indisputable fact.
"Cody!" His General says, eyes blazing, hands thrown up in exasperation as he jumps to his feet and paces angrily across the cell. Cody leans back against the bars and folds his arms. Utterly unimpressed. "I. Am. A. Sith. I could hurt you at any time!"
Cody rolls his eyes.
"Sir." He says. "What was the first thing you did once you'd realised you'd fallen?"
His General pauses and glares at him.
"You locked yourself in a force suppressing cell. Which is absolutely the action of a heartless monster unconcerned about anything other than causing as much pain to everyone else as possible."
His General's sigh is utterly exasperated, and Cody's enjoying seeing this much emotion from him, expressed openly rather than Cody having to deduce it from minute changes in body language.
"Cody," his General says, "no. The dark changes who you are. It hollows out the core of a person, replaces it with anger and hatred and violence. You become someone utterly different."
"Yes, Sir. Completely different. Which is why as soon as we couldn't find your malnourished, bled out corpse in one of the vents, I knew exactly where you were and why."
His General looks utterly lost and bewildered.
Cody sighs, and sits down on the floor.
"Get over here, Sir."
His General takes a slow step forwards. That will do.
"Sit."
His General folds himself onto the floor.
Cody reaches out, tugs and twists, manoeuvring his General until the man is sat between his legs, his back to Cody's chest. His Sith allows his manhandling without protest.
"Grab those ration bars for me." Cody commands, in a low voice "and the tea."
His General sucks in a breath, and the ration bars jerk on the ground, apparently using the force has reminded his General of what he is now.
"Cody..." he breathes.
Cody hooks his chin over his General's shoulder.
"Before we take this conversation any further," he murmurs, "you are going to eat those ration bars and drink your tea. You are not going to hurt me."
His General does as he's told.
"Good." Cody murmurs once his General has finished the first of the bars. And instead of accusing him of being patronising again, he shivers. Interesting. His General hesitates, holding the second bar.
"Are you going to eat that one for me as well?" Cody asks, deliberately dropping his voice, testing a theory.
"Yes dear." His General snipes, and Cody buries his smile into the back of his General's neck.
Once he's finished the food and the tea, Cody strokes a hand over red hair, watching as his General leans into the touch.
"Now," Cody says, "tell me what you know about being a sith. Not what you think, what you know."
His General is silent for a long minute before he speaks.
"There's been somewhat of a change in priorities." He says slowly. "Some things matter a lot less. Consequences, for one. Duty and responsibility. I feel much, much more selfish, my dear."
"And what is it you want that you think is selfish, Sir?" Cody asks.
"I want to kill the Chancellor." His Sith says immediately. "I want to kill Grievous and my Grandmaster. I want to end the war. I want to tell the senate to go kriff themselves. I want you all to be safe. I want you to be free and happy. And, Cody, my dear... I want you."
Cody hums in thought.
"A couple of suits of beskar'gam and a handful of slugthrowers, and we can pretend to be bounty hunters and take out the Chancellor. That slimy old bastard is terrible at opsec and the war will go a lot better with him out of the way. We can probably get rid of Dooku the same way, Grievous might be a tad trickier, but the beskar'gam will help there as well. Against all those sabers. I am absolutely all for telling the senate to go kriff themselves. If we put that out to the troopers, they'll have a lot of fun thinking up the most entertaining way to do it. Doing all that should stop the war, by my count. Once all the main players are out of the picture, it should take no time at all to mop up. And then, we will be safe. I had imagined that your current circumstances mean that we'll be splitting from the GAR anyway. Once we do that, we'll be free. I highly doubt any of my brothers would choose to follow the senate over you. However evil you think you are. And as for me?" Cody chuckles. "As soon as you're absolutely sure that you're not coercing me in any way, you can have me. I've been yours for years."
"You would..." His General starts.
"I would what?" Cody asks. "I would be on board with killing the Chancellor and telling the senate to kriff themselves? Cyare, you know how much I hate dealing with incompetence." His General sucks in a breath at the endearment. Which is ridiculous. He can't go around calling other people 'my dear' and then act like that when the tables are turned. "I would follow you anywhere? Yes. I trust you. I would be yours? Cyare, I cannot imagine not loving you."
His General tilts his head back to rest on Cody's shoulder, tilts to meet his eyes.
"I'm a Sith." He whispers.
"Mm." Cody agrees. "So I can see." He brushes a hand through his General's hair again. Hides a smirk as a new plan forms. "How do Sith feel about possession, Sir?"
Golden eyes blink at him, and his General's lips frown in thought.
"I'll admit to feeling significantly more possessive than usual." His General confesses, "but that's mostly manifesting in a very strong desire to keep you all safe and happy. I'm reasonably sure I'm not a threat to your free will as that would contravene your happiness. But I do think I might slaughter anyone who hurts you. Priest is dead isn't he?"
Cody rolls his eyes at that unsubtle link.
"Yes, Sir." He confirms. "Very dead. No, Sir, I was asking how you would feel about being the object of possession."
His General blinks again.
"I wasn't lying before, Sir." Cody explains. "Your eyes are ridiculously pretty." He traces the edge of one with a gentle finger. "Stunning." He murmurs, and watches his General's cheeks flush with a pale red. "They're a gorgeous shade of 212th gold." The eyes in question widen, and Cody lets the smirk he's been suppressing creep over his lips. Watches golden eyes drop to it. "My gold." He teases. "You're mine, Sir."
His General sighs, and there's a hint of amusement to the sound. He closes his eyes, and turns his face away slightly, shifting to press his head against Cody's neck.
"I've loved you for a long time Cody." He whispers. "But my duty..."
"We both had a duty that meant more." Cody agrees softly. "We'll find a new balance, Sir. One that we're both comfortable with."
"One that involves you throwing ration bars at my head?" His General asks, amusement bleeding back into his tone.
"If your Force doesn't warn you about them, then it agrees with me that you need to eat."
His General huffs happily.
"Cody," he says, the start of a very familiar argument. "That is not at all how the Force works."
"Come on, Sir." Cody says, nudging him upwards. "Unfortunately for you, you're still our General, which means you need a proper meal and then a visit to the medbay."
"I'm sure there's a rule somewhere that says Sith can't be in command of the GAR." His General grumbles half-heartedly as he gets to his feet.
"Actually, Sir, there's not." Cody informs him cheerfully. "Sorry."
"That seems like somewhat of an oversight." His General mutters thoughtfully.
Cody just shrugs. The GAR regs are like that.
Boil sighs in relief when he sees them.
"Oh, thank kriff."
Then he pauses as he clocks his General's eyes.
"A or B?" He asks Cody.
His General turns to him and raises his eyebrows in question. Boil snorts.
"You've met Cody." Boil says. "His plans have plans."
"You made plans for if I were to fall?" There's something... resigned in his eyes, a trace of vulnerability in his voice.
"As soon as I realised that's how Sith were made, Sir. It's not personal. I also have plans for if my second in command stabs me in the back. Figuratively or literally."
Boil flashes him the hand signal for 'kriff off', followed by 'watch your back', and his General snorts.
"Plan A is to grab you a bucket to hide the eyes and carry on." Boil reports, "Plan B is to order an osik-tonne of black paint. No self respecting Sith army is going to march around dressed in white."
"You didn't have plans to..." His General seems confused by the fact that Cody wasn't planning to brutally murder him in his sleep or something.
"Plan S only becomes relevant if you deliberately hurt either my brothers or innocents, Sir."
Something in his General relaxes at that. Cody rolls his eyes.
"You honestly think I could get him in a bucket?" He asks Boil, who nods in realisation.
"I'll get that paint ordered then, Sir."
---
Shrink folds his arms and glares down at their Sithified General.
"I didn't know it was possible for a Sith to have this many self-esteem issues." He states. "Separate the thoughts in your head out into ones that are nonsense, and ones that are based on fact and evidence. If you don't know which are which, ask one of us. And before you start, know that millions of sometimes sensible sentient men follow you because of who you are, not because of who you think you should be. You, as you are, earned our loyalty. You are more than sufficient. Now shift your shebs off this very nice couch you bought me and go think about my brilliant wisdom. I have more patients to berate."
"Are all therapists like that?" Cody's General asks, looking a little shell shocked, the ever present amusement lurking again in the back of golden eyes.
Cody shrugs.
"I wouldn't know Sir. Shrink taught himself therapy from the online courses, but he was a medic. I'm pretty sure all the CMs were decanted with an extra dose of blunt belligerence."
"All the better to treat you with!" Staples informs them with a slightly creepy grin as he shoulders past.