Chapter Text
Obi-Wan Kenobi found little solace in the quiet halls of the Jedi Temple these days. The war had changed everything, even this sacred place. He sat in his quarters, the evening light from Coruscant's perpetually crowded skyways filtering through the viewport, casting long shadows across the durasteel floor. He was tired. A deep, bone-weary exhaustion had settled into his very being, and it was more than just the strain of battle.
He felt… dimmer. Like the light of the Force that typically burned so brightly within him had been banked, leaving only a faint glow. He tried to meditate, to reconnect, but the usual rush of clarity and energy was muted, replaced by a hollow ache. Was this a symptom of the war? The relentless campaigns, the loss of life, the constant fear and pain he felt through the Force? It was a plausible explanation, and the one he clung to, but a small, nagging part of him knew it wasn't the whole truth. Something fundamental was missing, and had been ever since he'd returned to the temple a week ago for a briefing.
A warm thought bloomed in his mind, cutting through the fatigue. He pictured the hangar, the gentle hum of the Negotiator's engines, and the disciplined ranks of his men, his family. His battalion. They were waiting for him, eager to get back to the fight, and the thought of them—the sight of their burnished orange armor—made the ache in his chest lessen, if only for a moment. He saw Cody, Commander Cody, standing on the bridge, a stoic and steady presence. Just the mental image of his commander, of that familiar, solid warmth, was enough to make Obi-Wan feel a little more like himself again.
The truth was, he missed them. He missed his men, but most of all, he missed Cody. The simple proximity of the commander brought a strange sort of peace to him, a sense of belonging he hadn't realized he craved until it was gone. He still hadn't figured out what to make of the feeling, this quiet admiration that bordered on something deeper. The war had given them both a new purpose, a new closeness, but neither of them had dared to give it a name. Not yet.
He pushed himself to his feet, the fatigue receding just enough for him to function. He would not waste another moment here. His place wasn't on Coruscant, lost in a sea of his own diminishing light. His place was with his men. His place was with Cody. He would return to his ship, and perhaps, with a little luck, this unsettling emptiness would finally fade.
He made his way through the quiet halls of the temple, the familiar stone cool beneath his boots. The journey to the hangar bay was a long one, but it was a route he'd walked countless times. Each step felt heavier than the last, a physical manifestation of his weariness. He was so lost in his own thoughts that he almost didn't notice Anakin fall into step beside him.
"Master? Where are you off to?"
Obi-Wan turned his head to see Anakin, looking characteristically rumpled and concerned. "Ah, Anakin. I'm heading back to the Negotiator. I'm afraid my brief respite on Coruscant is over."
Anakin's brow furrowed. He looked at Obi-Wan with an intensity that only his former Padawan could. "You look tired, Master. Even more so than usual. Are you all right?" He took a step closer, his gaze sweeping over Obi-Wan's face. "You're paler than normal. Have you been sleeping? Eating?"
Obi-Wan offered a tired smile, though he knew it didn't reach his eyes. "I assure you, I'm perfectly fine, Anakin. The stress of the war affects us all. I simply need to get back to the front." He gave Anakin a reassuring pat on the shoulder. "The 212th is waiting. I'm quite alright, just looking forward to rejoining my troops."
Anakin didn't look convinced. He stopped walking, forcing Obi-Wan to do the same. "Master, that doesn't make sense. If the stress of the war is making you feel this way, shouldn't you be avoiding returning to it? You look like you're running on fumes." His eyes were earnest, a deep concern etched on his face. "If you're still going to go, will you at least promise me something? No major missions. No high-stress assignments. Just... ease back into it. You don't have to be a hero on every front."
Obi-Wan's smile softened. He appreciated the boy's worry, even if he didn't understand the full depth of it. "I will try, Anakin, I promise." He didn't want to make a commitment he couldn't keep. The war didn't allow for promises of quiet campaigns. "But my men need me. The 212th is a part of me, and I a part of them. I can't stay away for long. I'll take your advice under consideration, though." He gave Anakin's shoulder a final squeeze before continuing his walk down the hall.
As Obi-Wan continued on his way, Anakin's words echoed in his mind. "If the stress of the war is making you feel this way, shouldn't you be avoiding returning to it?" He knew the logic was sound, yet it fell flat in his heart. It wasn't the war itself that was the problem, not entirely. It was the separation from it, from them. From him.
The weight in his chest was a dull, constant ache. A hollowness he couldn't fill with meditation or logic. It had been there for a week, growing more oppressive with each passing day he spent away from his battalion. He realized then, with a jolt of clarity, that this feeling wasn't a symptom of the war's stress—it was a symptom of his absence from his men, and from Cody in particular.
Cody. The thought of him was like a ray of warmth piercing through the gloom. Cody’s unwavering presence, his calm competence, the silent understanding that passed between them on the battlefield—it was the only thing that felt real anymore. In this endless cycle of violence, fear, and loss, the thought of his commander was the only constant. The only thing that made sense.
Obi-Wan pressed onward, his pace quickening. The pull to return to the Negotiator was a physical sensation now, a desperate longing. He wasn't just going back to the war; he was going back to the one person who, in ways he couldn't yet articulate, was the single anchor keeping him from drifting away completely.
Cody wasn't just a Commander. He was Obi-Wan’s Commander, and the thought of rejoining him was the only thing keeping Obi-Wan going.
As the doors of the temple's hangar bay slid open, the familiar scent of oil, ozone, and recycled air washed over him. The Negotiator loomed ahead, a bastion of gray metal and glowing lights, a beacon in the cavernous space. The moment he stepped onto the landing platform, the oppressive weight in his chest began to lift. It wasn't gone, not entirely, but the crushing hollowness had given way to a dull, manageable ache. It was replaced by a burgeoning sense of relief, a warmth he hadn't felt in a week.
He moved with a renewed sense of purpose, his steps feeling surer as he walked toward the ship's main gangplank. Clones of the 212th were scattered around the hangar, performing last-minute checks and loading supplies. As he passed them, a flash of recognition would cross their faces, and they’d offer quick, respectful salutes.
"General," Boil greeted with a nod.
"Good to have you back, sir," Crys called out.
Obi-Wan offered a genuine, heartfelt smile in return, something that felt foreign after his week of quiet despondence. "It's good to be back, men." With each greeting, each step closer to the ship, the feeling of lightness in his chest grew. The hum of the ship’s engines, the sight of his battalion in their distinctive armor—it was all an antidote to the loneliness that had settled over him in the Temple. He felt the pieces of himself, which had been scattered and dimmed, slowly begin to knit back together.
He bypassed his own quarters and headed straight for the bridge. He knew Cody would be there, overseeing the final preparations for their departure. He could almost feel his commander’s presence, a steadfast warmth in the Force that was growing stronger with every step. The thought of seeing him, of hearing his voice, was all the motivation he needed.
As he strode onto the bridge, the oppressive weight in his chest vanished completely. It wasn't a gradual fading, but an instantaneous, all-encompassing return of his own light. The hollowness was gone, the weariness that had dogged his steps for a week replaced by a sudden, powerful surge of energy. His senses felt sharper, the hum of the ship's systems a symphony instead of a drone. He was whole again.
He saw him then. Commander Cody stood with his back to the door, his armored figure a familiar and comforting sight as he spoke with a navigation officer. The moment Obi-Wan’s gaze fell upon him, a warmth so profound it made his knees weak bloomed in his chest, a feeling so potent it almost brought him to a halt. It was the source of his returning strength, the missing piece he hadn't known was gone.
As if sensing his presence, Cody turned. The moment he saw Obi-Wan, a genuine, joyful smile lit up his face, a rare sight that never failed to make Obi-Wan’s heart do a flip. "General Kenobi," Cody said, the fondness in his tone unmistakable. "We were just about to leave without you. Thought you might have decided to take a permanent holiday."
Obi-Wan found himself grinning back, the fatigue of the past week a distant memory. He felt like he could take on an entire droid army single-handedly. "And miss all the fun? Never. Besides," he said, his voice imbued with a newfound vitality, "I wouldn't want you to fight all the fun battles without me."
Cody's smile widened. "A menace to the end, General. It's good to have you back." He gestured with his chin towards the bridge's main viewscreen, where Coruscant's swirling traffic glowed. "I just finished the final pre-flight checks. The Negotiator is ready for immediate liftoff. We're all set to go whenever you are."