Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Obi-Wan was staring very intently at the churning blue river running underneath the gorge, wondering if he would die when he jumped down it or if it would simply be very cool, when Cody accepted the transmission.

He turned only long enough to see if it was Grandmaster - it wasn’t, otherwise Cody would have opened the call with a ‘where the kriff are you’ instead of some sort of greeting - before turning back to the gorge. He’d seen a hundred gorges over almost three years of his deployment, but this one was particularly steep. An odd vertigo sucked at Obi-Wan’s feet, as if the emptiness of the gorge was tugging at Obi-Wan’s shoes with windy hands. Obi-Wan’s soul lurched, as if he was already jumping into that pit. 

Obi-Wan looked inside the pit and saw…

That it would be so cool. Rex would help him. Master would throw him, pretending to grunt and strain under his weight just like he always did, but between the two of them they could easily make Obi-Wan fly hundreds of feet in the air. It was a favored tactic on the battlefield when Obi-Wan needed to break through a thick mass of droids and fast. Not one of Grandmaster’s favorites, but Master always said that he didn’t have to count. 

Grandmaster would also think it was very funny, but he wouldn’t help him. Grandmaster always pretended to scold or discourage them, but he never really tried that hard. Grandmaster could be cool sometimes . 

Cody would be the only one who both did not think it was funny and would actively try and stop them. Cody hated fun. Everyone knew this.

Cody’s transmission ended. Obi-Wan was too busy psychically communing with the gorge to stop and check who he was talking to. But he did notice how Cody just stood there afterwards. Just for a few seconds, Cody had stopped and stood there.

Obi-Wan got a very bad feeling.

Cody raised his head and met Obi-Wan’s eyes from across the battlefield.

Every bad feeling Obi-Wan had ever had coalesced into that moment, and Obi-Wan woke up into his greatest and final nightmare.

“I’m bored.”

Obi-Wan was not graced with a response. Ignoring his superior officer! A thousand lashes!

Obi-Wan extended an exploratory finger over the desk and slowly slid some formwork a few inches to the left. Cody did not look up. He could fill out formwork faster than light, and at first it had been entertaining just watching his sheer efficiency. The entertainment value had worn off.

“Cody, I’m bored .”

Without looking up, Cody said, “And I’m busy.”

Obi-Wan groaned, flopping his head over the desk and hitting his forehead on - you guessed it - formwork. Cody’s office in the barracks was small and poky, practically claustrophobic. The only thing of interest was a caff machine, which Obi-Wan wasn’t allowed to touch. Totally unfair.

With the elucidation and diction that made Obi-Wan famous across the galaxy, Obi-Wan mumbled into the stacks of formwork, “We’re on break …so take a break …”

“The work needs to get done,” Cody explained patiently. Also a little like he wanted to murder Obi-Wan. He had his number. “I’m the only one who can do it. So I have to get it done now. The rest of Coruscant is perfectly willing to entertain you.”

“Read the dinosaur book with meeeee .”

There was a faint hiss of air. Obi-Wan knew that Cody was pinching his nose and exhaling gustily. Another job well done. Obi-Wan had no delusions that this would end in the dinosaur book - that only happened when Cody was trying to distract him from something - but the dinosaur book itself was a distraction in this genius play. 

“If we’re on break, you should be pla - training with the men instead of sitting in my office. I really am very busy, sir -”

Obi-Wan popped his head up, sending even more formwork scattering everywhere. Cody had to dive to catch some of it. “How busy?” Cody gave him his most unimpressed work. “ Catastrophically busy?”

“At least a volcano's worth, sir.”

“Then you need an assistant, don’t you? That’s efficiency.” Obi-Wan began gathering the formwork into neat stacks, pulling it onto his side of the desk and whipping out a stylus from his robes. “This would go a whole lot faster with two people, and I can fill out forms just as well as you.” Not at all, but at least he had practice. “I’ll fill out this half and you fill out that half. It makes no sense not to let me help, frankly.”

Cody did not look especially grateful and appreciative of Obi-Wan’s infinite charity. He just looked a little pained. “Most of those forms require my signature, sir.”

“I can imitate your handwriting.”

“Some of those require General Jinn’s signature -”

“Grandmaster makes me sign all of his formwork. I don’t even need to imitate the handwriting.”

“That…he does.” Cody pinched the bridge of his nose again, forcing himself to take calming breaths. Wow, two nose pinches in five minutes, Obi-Wan was gearing up to beat his record. There had been a bungee cord and a feral Loth-cat. “General Skywalker and General Jinn hadn’t filled out a single sheet of formwork since you joined the 501st.”

“Which means I’ve been getting away with this for months,” Obi-Wan said smugly. “We won’t get caught. You’ll get to do something besides formwork during your break for once. Everyone wins!”

Cody slotted him an unimpressed look. “You just want me to read the dinosaur book with you.”

That wasn’t what all of this was about, not really, but Obi-Wan was not above a little misdirection. “They live in little houses, Cody! They drive little spaceships! It’s incredible!”

“It’s…something.” But Cody just rubbed his chin, taking another appraising look at the formwork. Obi-Wan could see the thoughts running through his mind: ‘maybe, quite possibly, I don’t have to do this…the intelligent and witty child is here to help…I could be free of my shackles’. “I guess you can handle one or two of the forms I don’t need to read whatsoever.”

“Great!” Obi-Wan said, pulling a large stack of forms towards him. “Let’s race to get done! Maybe you can even catch up on sleep afterwards, right?”

Cody quirked an eyebrow at him. “I thought you wanted to read the dinosaur book.”

“Ah, I can get that done anytime. C’mon, let’s start our engines.”

Never let it be said that Commander Obi-Wan Kenobi of the 501st, padawan of Knight Anakin Skywalker and grand-padawan of Qui-Gon Jinn, was just a highly prestigious lineage, officer of the best battalion in the GAR, prodigious with a lightsaber, and a pretty face. He was also talented at negotiation . Not many people knew this. They just said that he bludgeoned people to death with words. That was what he wanted them to think .

Obi-Wan never could have gotten Cody to stop working. No amount of pleading or bargaining would have done it. The only possible recourse was to halve the amount of work he was doing. The only way to achieve that would be to sit in his office, refuse to leave, and be as annoying as possible until he let you help with the formwork just to shut him up. 

See? Negotiations.

Obi-Wan walked away the winner in this deal. Sure, he was doing formwork when he could be goofing off or hanging out with his friends or training with the men - but he wanted to help Cody. Cody never really let himself be helped. You had to work super hard for it. But that was the effort Obi-Wan was willing to put in. It was for The Cause (™). So what if making Cody’s life easier was The Cause (™)? After how hard Obi-Wan made his life, that was just fair.

As Obi-Wan’s stylus touched the first form, a bad feeling shuddered down his neck.

Obi-Wan dismissed the feeling. He was fourteen years old, and used to it. 

They said he would outgrow the visions. That he would learn to control them. But he never did.

Maybe he didn’t try hard enough. Visions, convictions, feelings - precognition was an invaluable tool on the battlefield, and Obi-Wan couldn’t afford to sacrifice whatever little advantages he could scrape. He was already small and weak and bad at being a Jedi, bad at everything. He didn’t want to throw away this tool. Or maybe he just couldn’t, and he didn’t want to admit it.

“It’s like - every bad thing in my life has happened, is happening, will happen, all at once.” Obi-Wan had tried to explain it to Master Yoda during their mandated counseling sessions for the ‘ special needs ’ initiates, but he wasn’t sure he was successful. Yoda only ever twitched his ears at him. “Sometimes when I’m at this, like - this crisis point, everything flashes in front of me. It’s just scraps, random conversations or sights, but it all blurs together into this - this stream of sensations. When I look into that stream, something emerges. But…”

Gently, Yoda prompted, “But?”

Obi-Wan hugged himself, drawing his shoulders in. Yoda’s rooms were always super humid, but Obi-Wan felt very cold all of a sudden. “All I see is a monster. That monster…it’s so scary. I really hate it, Master Yoda. I never want to see it again.”

“Fear is the path to the Dark Side,” Yoda said. Obi-Wan had an unkind image about a toy Yoda that dispensed the same five adages if you inserted a cred. “Afraid of the future, all thoughtful beings are. Natural, it is. Desire to conquer what is natural, the Dark side is. If afraid of the natural, you are, then walk the path to the Dark Side, you do.”

“There’s nothing natural about what I’m seeing,” Obi-Wan said, “Grandmaster, there’s really nothing natural about any of this.”

“Let us meditate on death, young initiate.”

Six months later, Obi-Wan awoke from a screaming nightmare that awoke his entire dormitory. Yet again, and they all threw pillows at him yet again , but this time was different. This time he couldn’t stop screaming. 

Six hours later, streams of Knights and Masters streamed out of the Temple and into transport ships. Obi-Wan was almost twelve, and far too old to cling to his crechemaster’s apron. So he clung onto Bant instead, pale and sweating, and she let him squeeze her hand as hard as he wanted.

His crechemates told him that this wouldn’t be so stressful if they had gotten any kriffing sleep last night. Obi-Wan accepted the blame stoically. 

Only Quinlan asked him what his nightmare had been about. Quinlan was already a padawan (and sure wouldn’t shut up about it!), and he was still sulking about Knight Secura leaving him behind.

And Obi-Wan told him that the nightmare had been about -

A hand wrapped around Obi-Wan’s ankle and yanked.

Obi-Wan fought for his life. He grabbed onto the seams of the air vent, fingernails scrabbling for purchase, and kicked out ineffectually with his uncaptured foot. Metal slid around him before fluorescent lighting burst in his vision, illuminating a world tumbling over as he was shucked unceremoniously from the air vent. The grip on his ankle remained firm, but Obi-Wan flopped upside down and was left to stare upwards from the floor at his captor.

“Commander Kenobi,” Marshal Commander Cody said, voice icy. “What are you doing?”

“Uh.” Obi-Wan made little jazz hands. “Just hanging around?”

Hilariously, Cody was standing on a step stool. He had actually gone through the effort of tracking him through the vents, finding a stepstool, removing a grate cover at exactly the right spot, and pulling Obi-Wan out through the hole. That was an usually large amount of time and energy spent on Obi-Wan of all people. 

The joke didn’t land. Obi-Wan expected no differently. Cody famously had no sense of humor. “Aren’t you supposed to be preparing for hitting planetside soon?”

“I’m prepped! I’m packed! My lightsaber’s cleaned! My boots are oiled! I’m just doing this in my free time -”

Slowly, through gritted teeth, Cody said, “Do you try to infiltrate the enlisted men’s debriefings in your free time often?”

“Only when I want to see the men! Just say hi! Catch some gossip! It’s not fair that you guys have all these secret meetings! You never include me, it really hurts my feelings.”

Cody stared at him. Obi-Wan attempted a winning grin. Cody’s gaze slowly panned downwards, at the incriminating yard gap between the floor and Obi-Wan’s head. “Heard something interesting from my brother the other day.”

“Don’t you got five million of those?”

“We’re close. His name’s Bly. I think his padawan commander is a friend of yours.” Oh, yeah! Quinlan! He said Bly was the goofiest clone ever, but that he was nice. He was not willing to swap. “He has reliably informed me that, should you drop them from a moderate height, Jedi children bounce.”

Wait. Wait! He wasn’t a child, he was thirteen! Semantics were important! “Only Quinlan! That’s only Quinlan !”

“Marshal Commander Bly’s intel is usually reliable.”

“This is torture,” Obi-Wan said, horrified. “You’re torturing me for information. You are literally going against the Alderaan Convention right now.”

Straight faced, Cody said, “You’d know if I was torturing you, sir.”

“Let me down -”

“Just one second.” Cody held his arm comm up to his mouth, looking Obi-Wan dead in the eyes as he spoke. “Captain Rex, disband the enlisted men’s briefing and tell the men to report to Hallway Besh-29. I have something they’d want to see.” 

Obi-Wan screeched. 

Cody looked up at him, one eyebrow raised. “I thought you wanted to be included, sir.”

“Co dy !”

“Why don’t we call it quits for today?”

Obi-Wan coughed, massaging his throat after that vicious clothesline, but he forced himself back onto his feet anyway. He fell into the ready stance before his vision stopped swimming, and Rex’s figure slowly coalesced in front of him. He looked a little concerned, but Obi-Wan could tell that he was badly hiding amusement. 

“We won’t stop ‘til I get it,” Obi-Wan said. He shook his head a little to get the spots out of his vision, calling upon the Force to strengthen his stamina and bolster his constitution. “Come on, come at me!”

Rex shrugged. “If you say so.”

Then Rex dived for him again, and Obi-Wan barely dodged in time. 

This was how he could draw the fight out. It was the only way - Obi-Wan was fast and agile, but he hadn’t mastered using the Force to augment his strength yet. Master was fantastic at it - when he chose to practice his Ataru instead of his more favored Jar’kai, the swing of his lightsaber onto yours felt like a boulder hitting your head. Obi-Wan felt like a needle in comparison. Ducking and dodging was his best method for survival now.

Master said that all thirteen year olds were shrimps. He’d get bigger and stronger eventually, just like Master. Obi-Wan doubted that he was going to grow as tall as Grandmaster and Master. Master assured him that it was genetic. Obi-Wan asked Master if he knew how genetics worked. Master had just replied that genetics didn’t know how he worked, whatever that meant.

Hevy cupped his hands around his mouth, reclining easily on the benches. Next to him, Cutup scrubbed his sweaty face with a towel. Hevy gave everyone a workout. “Boring! Stop and face him like a warrior, Commander!”

“The victorious warrior is the alive one!” Obi-Wan cried, narrowly brushing out of Rex’s grip. “Now if you’ll stop heckling -”

Echo limply punched a fist in the air. In a complete monotone, he said, “Boo. Boring showing, Commander.”

And Obi-Wan was so incredibly offended that Rex managed to tackle him. Droidbait nodded at Echo, impressed. Echo was clearly proud of himself. 

“His problem is that he thinks too much,” Fives told Cutup. “If he stopped thinking and started doing then he could be a real beast.”

The difficult part began. This was what they were really training. Rex’s grapples could knock the toughest warrior onto the ground in seconds flat, and with one elbow over their through he could asphyxiate them before they even knew what was happening. He was bulky, incredibly strong, precisely skilled, and extremely practiced. 

Obi-Wan was the Jedi here, and he never won. Rex always made his cheek hit mat and forced him to slap the mat in concession before he was mercifully released. Guy always insisted on almost choking him out, too! For ‘realism’!

But the Force was with Obi-Wan in that moment. He felt its touch, guiding his movements from uncertainty into confident surety. He had practiced the maneuvers to break the grapple so often that they felt like second nature, and Obi-Wan didn’t stop to think.

He flipped Rex onto his stomach, holding him down in Obi-Wan’s submission hold. He was down! Actually down! Obi-Wan felt almost giddy. Victory, victory over Rex - !

The hold broke. Rex flipped onto his back, grinning up at Obi-Wan. His teeth were bared in a fierce grin, like an animal ready and willing to pounce, and there was something wild and glinting in his eyes. A bad feeling prickled at Obi-Wan’s neck, but he brushed it away as soon as he could. He had to focus -

“There we go,” Rex breathed. “You’re ready to put up a fight, Commander.”

“Huh?” Obi-Wan asked, before Rex beat his ass.

It ended like it always ended. Domino Squad loudly dissecting his performance, other clones banging on the door and demanding to use the practice room, and Rex squatting over Obi-Wan’s prone form. Obi-Wan rolled on his back and groaned. His bruises had bruises.

When he looked up at Rex’s eyes, he saw the same ordinary brown eyes as usual. Rex was smiling again, but it felt a bit friendlier. 

“What d’ya know,” Rex said drawled, smile widening. “The Commander got it.”

“You still won,” Obi-Wan groused. “I’ll never win against you.”

“Nah, I know you will. Wanna know why?” Rex leaned down and poked Obi-Wan in the chest with a finger, making him bat the finger away with a scowl. “You have the spirit of a real Mandalorian warrior, the manda .” Obi-Wan opened his mouth, but Rex just shook his head. “The spirit’s not the body. Your body’s not there yet. But the spirit? It’s unconquerable. No matter how many times you hit that mat, Commander, I always see you get back up again. You got what it takes.”

Despite the pain radiating throughout his body, despite the bruises on bruises, Obi-Wan couldn’t help but grin. “You know, I’ve never heard that before.”

“What? Damn, the Jedi don’t know what they got.” Rex stood up, reaching a hand down to Obi-Wan. “Good thing us clones see it. Otherwise nobody would know you got all’a that talent.”

Fives stood up, stretching his arms and casually popping his neck. His match was against Hevy, who was almost bouncing with excitement. Fives was not. “You don’t have to flatter him, alor’ad . It’s not about talent. Gracious gods know Echo doesn’t have it.” Echo looked scandalized. He really shouldn’t. Everyone was always dunking on him, it was funny. “Just work hard and you’ll be fine.”

“I’ll work super hard!” Obi-Wan swore. “I’ll work harder than anyone! C’mon, Fives, wanna go against me instead of Hevy?”

“Uh,” Fives said. “Well. No, not -”

Droidbait picked him up by the collar and shoved him into the ring. Rex walked out, clapping a hand on his shoulder and grinning mischievously at him. “ Jate’kara , vod .”

There those words were again. Obi-Wan was writing down each one he heard and making a careful note of their potential meanings. The 501st called Rex alor’ad a lot, in a jokingly saluting or official way - Obi-Wan theorized that this meant ‘captain’. Jate meant something like ‘good’, and he frequently heard it appended with kara - it felt like the term ‘good fight’, but maybe ‘good luck’? Vod meant ‘clone’, no doubt about it. They always said ori’vod if the clone was older and vod’ika if they were younger. Or if they felt like being mean. One day he was gonna surprise them with how much he knew. Obi-Wan was going to master clone slang.

Obi-Wan settled into a ready position, banishing all exhaustion and pain from his body. “One more round, Fives?”

Fives sighed, cracking his neck. “Just one more. I’m not as good as Captain Rex, but I’m not exactly easy to beat either.”

A bad feeling pierced Obi-Wan’s neck like a spike of ice, and Fives used his distraction to strike. 

Were they debriefing without him? Like he was a freaking fourteen year old?

The clones had congregated around Cody, armor rustling as he made call after call. A lot of calls - Obi-Wan recognized a call from Master, then to Bacara, then to Wolffe. If he made any calls after that, Obi-Wan didn’t see them - one of the clones had shifted and obscured Cody from view.

Obi-Wan huffed, giving his newest and greatest friend Boga (she reminded him of the dinosaurs in that book as a kid, okay?!) one final goodbye pat before jogging over to the crowd. Nausea was slowly growing in Obi-Wan’s gut, but he pushed through it. 

Boga began crying, with short and mournful howls. 

“Hey, hey, excuse me, Commander coming through.” Obi-Wan neatly pushed his way through the crowd of clones, swimming through the sea of plastoid armor with great practice. Everybody turned and silently looked at him as he passed, which made him feel even sicker. At least they didn’t have to look down at him anymore. “Whoah, Commander here, requesting a debriefing.”

He finally made it to the center of the crowd, where Cody stood with Crys and Wooley flanking him. They were looking at each other, and Obi-Wan wondered if they were communicating via their bucket headsets. 

Obi-Wan crossed his arms, making a show of tapping his foot. “Are we pulling out or what? On the timetable, we were supposed to pull out an hour ago.” And the timetable was sacred . 

The troopers looked at him. Crys and Wooley looked at him. And Cody -

Looked at him. Obi-Wan felt a little as if he wanted to throw up. 

“Commander,” Cody said. He fell abruptly silent, not as if he was trying to think of something to say, but as if he couldn’t get anything else out. Finally, he said, “We must return to Coruscant immediately.”

“Well, Master can just wait,” Obi-Wan said, miffed. He made a show of tapping his foot, letting the wind whip harsh dust onto his tunic. “Not everything is as important as he thinks it is.”

Cody just stared at him. Obi-Wan looked around. All of the 212th were staring at him, or whispering amongst themselves in low voices. It made his skin prickle. Or maybe something else was making his skin prickle. 

The seconds were piling on top of each other. Strange and stilted, Cody said, “Where’s your robes, Obi-Wan?”

“What? It’s right -” Obi-Wan stopped, looking down. Whoops. “Seems as if I’ve lost it again, Marshal Commander. N'eparavu takisit , my bad, all that.”

“...we’ll have to leave it behind this time.” Cody turned to the other soldiers as Obi-Wan mimed a sassy gasp. Naughty! “There’s been a new development on Coruscant. We have to leave immediately.”

What? “But what about Grandmaster?” Obi-Wan asked, alarmed. “We just captured this sector, we can’t leave immediately!”

“It’s the orders,” Cody said, voice clipped and stern. “Don’t question orders.”

“I know, I know, I’m a good soldier.” He was. And he was. But… “Marshal Commander, I’m having this - feeling again. Are you sure that -”

“What have I always said about your feelings , Obi-Wan?”

Obi-Wan shivered, the mountainous cold of the steppes cutting through him. “I know it’s useless Jedi banthacrap, honestly, I know I should ignore it. But I don’t know. Something feels off.”

Cody was silent for a second. The men were whispering to each other behind their hands. Obi-Wan couldn’t make out a word. Crys stood stock still, and Wooley was jerking every few seconds.

But Cody just walked forward until he was standing in front of Obi-Wan, and to Obi-Wan’s surprise he knelt down. Like he used to, when Obi-Wan was so much younger. Whatever he was feeling, whatever was within him, the Force couldn’t say. 

Obi-Wan had never been able to read the clones in the Force. Nobody could. They were famously Force-null, about as present as rocks. It was actively unsettling to some Jedi and left the rest of them frustrated over just how incomprehensible they were. Jedi relied heavily on their psychic senses for all interactions with other sentient beings, and a sentient life form that they couldn’t read at all always left them on the off-foot. Obi-Wan Kenobi was famous within certain parts of the Order for being the only person who had a remote understanding of clones at all. The 501st and 212th got to boast about it - our commander actually gets us, not like all of yours!

It wasn’t magic. Obi-Wan was just the only Jedi who even freaking bothered to learn Mando’a. Or the complex system of clone pidgin. Or the microexpressions. The Jedi just didn’t care about clones.

Cody slowly unlatched his bucket, putting it on the dusty ground beside him. Where the Force failed, Obi-Wan’s own knowledge began. Cody stared at Obi-Wan, just stared, and Obi-Wan saw an obscure aura of marvel and wonder blossoming before he reached out and grabbed Obi-Wan’s forearms. When he spoke, he spoke in Mando’a. Cody never spoke like this in Basic, sounded like this. Cody’s affection lived in secret words, just for them. 

“Obi-Wan. I need you to be brave right now, alright?”

“I am fifteen years old -”

“So you’ve assured us,” Cody said wryly. He didn’t look any different from usual, but for some reason he seemed tired. “I know you’re scared. But I’m going to need something from you right now, okay? Can you do that?”

Obi-Wan’s heart froze. “Grandmaster’s dead, isn’t he.”

“Qui-Gon Jinn isn’t dead,” Cody said sternly. “As I told you many times, he’s just fine. Skywalker and Jinn are fine . You believe me, don’t you?”

“Of course I do,” Obi-Wan said, tiredly. He knew Cody wouldn’t accept anything else. “Fine. Tell me what you need and I’ll do it. But we’re still going swimming later, right?”

“Sure,” Cody said. “We can go swimming later.” He stayed silent for a long time, just looking at Obi-Wan. His grip on Obi-Wan’s arms tightened, and Obi-Wan had to fight not to squirm. “Everything is going to be okay. I just need you to do as you’re told for once.”

“Come on , I’m great at doing what I’m -”

Cody didn’t dignify the nonsense with a response. “I’m your alor , aren’t I?” Obi-Wan nodded fastidiously. Maybe Obi-Wan was the superior officer in the natborn world, but come on . Every clone in the army knew who really led the 212th. And Obi-Wan. Everyone said he was just as good as a clone. “From this moment on, until we rendezvous with your master, I need you to obey me as your alor now. As if I was your CO in a firefight.”

Obi-Wan stiffened. That really meant doing as he was told. That meant doing everything Cody said unconditionally, without stopping to think about it, without even questioning. It was dangerous to stop and question orders during a battle. What kind of battle was happening? Whatever it was, it was happening at a glacial pace. 

A conviction knocked Obi-Wan on the head. It burrowed its way into his chest, it stamped itself on his heart. It told Obi-Wan not to do that. It told Obi-Wan not to do that .

But Obi-Wan always followed Cody’s orders. The important ones, anyway. And Cody always said to ignore that stupid Force stuff. He was just thinking instead of doing again. This was just hesitance. No room for hesitance on the battlefield. 

And Cody was his alor . That was already done. There was nothing to undo.

“Yes, sir!”

“Good. Give me your lightsaber.” 

Obi-Wan automatically moved to unbuckle his lightsaber before his hand hit an empty belt. He looked up, embarrassed beyond all measure. “Ah - do… you happen to have it?”

Great. Grandmaster’s voice echoed in his ear. Your lightsaber’s your life, padawan. Stop making Cody pick up after you. 

Cody released Obi-Wan and looked downwards. Sure enough, Obi-Wan’s lightsaber was already on his belt. He must have instinctively picked it up after the fight and forgotten about it.

Cody stared at that lightsaber for a long time. 

“I’ll remember it next time,” Obi-Wan said, long suffering. Even though it was technically Cody and his masters who were suffering here. 

“Don’t worry about it.” Cody straightened, checking the time on his comm. He cursed under his breath. “Longshot, the cuffs. Now!”

Hurriedly, Longshot pressed forward through the crowd and stopped next to Obi-Wan. He withdrew heavy metal cuffs from his pack, ones that looked closer to vambraces than cuffs, and Obi-Wan only had a second to recognize them before they were clamped over his wrists.

The nausea abated, which was nice. All of his strength abated as well, which was less nice. Obi-Wan always reacted worse to Force inhibitor cuffs than anybody . It was so embarrassing. The only person who reacted worse was Master, but at least that was in a funny way. He just started walking into walls and only processing half of what you were saying. His sense of taste also always disappeared. Also sometimes he only spoke in Huttese. It made Grandmaster mutter a lot with theories, but Master refused to let him test them. Master had no head for science.

Obi-Wan always felt as if he hadn’t eaten in two weeks and hadn’t slept in a month. He stumbled, fatigue overcoming him completely, and Longshot hurriedly caught him. The world swam, and Obi-Wan felt a cavernous gorge opening inside of him. Tugging and tugging…

Unbelievably embarrassingly, Longshot carried him to the ship shuttle. As badly as the cuffs affected him, Obi-Wan had a lot of practice training his body to work through the effects and make his daring escape. It felt more difficult than usual, but usually he was under a lot of time pressure and some sort of Sith was involved. It wasn’t until Longshot was placing him in one of the shuttle chairs that he snapped to awareness.

“We didn’t pack up the fallen!” Obi-Wan cried. He twisted to look at Cody, who was standing at the gangplank ushering the men in. Distantly, Boga lowed and moaned. “We didn’t even pray! We have to -”

“No questions right now.” 

Cody walked over and began buckling Obi-Wan’s harnesses for him, since it was a little difficult to conduct the matter cuffed, and Obi-Wan watched with exasperation as he triple checked the thing. He would do that when Obi-Wan was thirteen, triple check his work and redo it as if he couldn’t buckle his own harness correctly. In retrospect, he couldn’t. No wonder they all thought he was incompetent for months on months.

Somewhere further and further, Boga was howling. Obi-Wan craned his head, trying to see out and see if she was okay. If they weren’t even getting the soldiers, how were they going to bring her with them?

“For twice born god’s sake,” Cody snapped, with harshness Obi-Wan rarely heard from him, “will someone shut the animal up?”

The bridge closed. Obi-Wan might have heard a blaster bolt outside, but it was hard to tell. Boga cried, and Obi-Wan didn’t hear if she cried again.

The transport was dead silent as they took off. Unusually, nobody took off their helmets or started chatting. They just sat in silence, staring at the floor or at the ceiling or exchanging glances with each other. Obi-Wan ended up napping a little.

He woke up when they reached the ship. It was hard not to: lowering the gangplank revealed a flood of noise and nonstop streams of movement in the airport. It felt like half the battalion was preparing starfighters and weapons. 

Weirdly busy. They were pulling out of a captured planet to rendezvous at Coruscant, there shouldn’t be this much to do. But everybody they passed were walking sharply in twos, murmuring in low voices, or talking into their comms. They all looked up and stared as Obi-Wan and Cody walked through the airport. Obi-Wan found himself shrinking against Cody. Way to ask about the cuffs, guys.

When they reached the bridge they met Boil standing at the entryway, arms folded. Three other troopers were standing behind him, hissing furiously at him, but he ignored all of them to stare dead straight at Cody. Almost imperceptibly, Cody sighed. 

“Sir,” Boil said frostily. 

“Get back to your post.”

“ Sir .” Boil’s helmet tilted to the confused Obi-Wan before looking back at Cody. “This is my conscientious objection. I refuse.”

“Good for you,” Cody said dully. Obi-Wan was slowing, and Cody gently put a hand on his back to push him forward. “Get back to your post. We’re joining with the 501st after their mission.”

“Go to fucking hell, sir!”

Obi-Wan gasped. Wow! Go Boil! But also - what?

They were speaking in Mando’a. Clone Mando’a, anyway, which highly resembled Mando’a with ten times the amount of curses and military slang and names for droids. If nothing else guaranteed that natborns had no idea this was happening and no role in any of this, that did - clones only spoke in Mando’a in places where it was guaranteed nobody could hear them. They didn’t speak it smack dab in the middle of the ship.

But Cody didn’t react. He just stopped them both in front of Boil, who was still blocking the entryway. Rubbernecking clones milled about behind him. “I didn’t hear that. Get back to your post. That’s my final warning.”

“I’m not participating in this.” Boil’s voice was drawn harsh and tight, firm as a coil. “You can all do whatever the fuck you want. I’m not doing it.”

“Um.” Obi-Wan figured that discipline could take a back seat for right now. He looked at Cody, switching to Mando’a too. “Are you finally mutinying? If you’re mutinying I want in.”

“We’re not mutinying.”

“ I’m mutinying,” Boil spat. “You’re all fucking droids. Waxer would never go along with this.”

“Good thing Waxer’s dead,” Cody said blandly. Obi-Wan gasped. “On second thought, I’m taking Obi-Wan to his room. Someone find Gregor. He didn’t report in. Gearshift, Peel, go ahead of us. Barlex and Crys.”

Then Cody firmly changed their direction, and set off down the hall much faster than they had approached. Obi-Wan heard a distant thud and a grunt, but when he tried to turn around Cody just put a hand on the back of his neck in warning.

Out of the corner of his mouth, Obi-Wan hissed, “Cody, that comment about Waxer was mean.”

“Sorry,” Cody said, but it didn’t seem like he really meant it.

They walked the familiar path to Obi-Wan’s room, even if Cody had to stop and occasionally help him along when the fatigue got to be too much. His mind was too hazy to even think. Everything felt so cold and still without the Force, but Obi-Wan knew that the ship would have felt cold and still anyway. It was more active than Obi-Wan had seen in a long time, clones bustling past with hurried steps and barking commands to each other, but it felt different from usual. Everybody was avoiding Obi-Wan’s eyes.

He’d have to…call Quinlan. Get some kind of explanation for what was happening. Obi-Wan took advantage of Cody’s distraction barking orders at one of the soldiers to dig up his comm, quickly flipping through past his previous texts. He had two unread, both from Quinlan. 

Quinlan: yoooo think were finally having another beach day you gotta come. 

There was a sticker of a Dug relaxing on the beach. Quinlan loved stickers. The next message was sent a few minutes later - thirty minutes before now. 

Quinlan: uh taking that back. Blys being real ????. get back to you. 

There were no more messages. 

The comm was ripped from his hand, and Obi-Wan watched in muted horror as Cody crushed it in one hand. He realized that they were in front of his cabin, and that they weren’t alone. Gearshift and Peel were moving in and out, putting his scant possessions in the hallway as quickly as possible. 

All propiety fell out the window. In his defense, firefights didn’t tend to raid your room. “Hey, what are you doing with my stuff!”

Cody ignored him. “Stay in here until I call for you. Gearshift and Peel will guard your door.”

The very obvious became obvious. But it still shot shock through Obi-Wan’s body like a lightning bolt. “You’re imprisoning me. You’re putting me in a cell. Why…”

“If I was putting you in a cell you’d be able to tell,” Cody said dryly. He put a hand on Obi-Wan’s back, but when Obi-Wan shook it off he carefully retreated. “Don’t try to escape, we can’t spare the men to chase after you right now and we’ll have to put you in a real cell. I’ll be back.”

“What, next to Boil?” Obi-Wan cried, voice hitching higher and higher. “What’s happening? Boil’s not a traitor! Why are you treating him like one! Why are you treating me - you know I’m not like the other natborns, I’m on your side!”

“You have to be brave, Obi-Wan,” Cody said, and Obi-Wan quieted.

Obi-Wan was deposited on his bed, and when the intruders left they locked the door behind them. All of the Star Destroyer rooms can be locked from the outside. For some reason, that detail stuck in Obi-Wan’s fuzzy mind. He’d always found it a strange design feature. It was coming in handy for them now, but this was a strange day.

Lying down helped his head, but the cuffs made comfort impossible. If Obi-Wan forced himself to sit up and look around, he could take an inventory of what they’d taken. Half of him didn’t even want to. If he ignored his ransacked room then this just felt like a really weird grounding. 

Anything with HoloNet access, which Obi-Wan carefully stored away in a mental file. Any weapons or anything that could be used to fiddle a lock or act as a weapon, which was a very comprehensive assessment and ended up taking out a disturbing variety of the things in his room. It took even more time to realize that they had sealed the room - they had triple bolted the ventilator cover shaft. Who did that ?

Anybody who knew Obi-Wan, for one. The Seppies called him an escape artist. Ventress even said it fondly. So much for not being in a cell. 

Thinking anything felt like wading through mud, but Obi-Wan focused on centering himself and pushing through the cuffs. Were they really rendezvousing with Master, or had that been a lie to get him on the ship? Were they going to kidnap Master too? Good luck with that. 

Maybe they could. Even Master would have a hard time against the entire 212th. And they wouldn’t need to fight him, would they? Master would do anything for Rex. They really loved each other.

Well, none of this was that important. He was more curious than anything. This whole thing was weird. Maybe Master was even in on the whole thing. Kidnap Master, more like ‘kidnap’ Master. Honestly, Obi-Wan’s real job would be to make sure that Master didn’t hurt anyone. Wouldn’t be the first time. He always got so worked up during a fight. Wasn’t his fault, but…

Obi-Wan forced himself out of bed. He’d done harder things.

He knocked politely on the door.

Sure enough, Gearshift opened it immediately. Beside him, Peel was leaning against the wall. Obi-Wan had the sense that he had interrupted a conversation.

“You should stay in bed,” Gearshift said. “You look sick.”

“The cuffs really aren’t doing it for me,” Obi-Wan agreed pleasantly. “Hey, are you sure you’re not mutinying? Because this looks a lot like a mutiny. I’m seriously offended that you didn’t include me in this. Is this one of those ‘you’re too young’ things again? I could have been a really big help! I can lure Master into the brig easy.”

Both clones looked at him. Obi-Wan did his best to look trustworthingly untrustworthy.

Finally, Gearshift said, “Thanks for the…offer, but we’re alright. Worry about yourself first for once, Obi-Wan.”

“I’m your commander,” Obi-Wan said, genuinely scandalized. “It’s my job as your officer to worry about my men first. And maybe it’s not my job as commander to support this mutiny, but I really am just upset you didn’t invite me -”

“Get some rest,” Peel said. 

Just unfair. Why didn’t they invite him to the mutiny?

Was it because he was technically still a Jedi? That was almost hurtful. Everybody always told him that he was better than the rest of them, different from the rest of them. He was vod , everybody knew that. The 212th knew that. They said that they believed in his power, his strength - did they really not even want his help? They were always leaving him out of things just because he was a kid. He was fifteen! Fifteen year olds could mutiny!

Obi-Wan knocked on the door again. Gearshift answered it again.

“Seriously, wouldn’t I be more help fighting with you? Moles and inside men are the most valuable people in the army, and if it comes to a fight we know how much I can - come on!”

Cruely ignored and excluded. Just typical. He felt thirteen again, constantly aggravated from all of the conversations going over his head and comments in a language he didn’t understand and the rampant clone microexpression debates that he knew were happening. 

The trip back to Coruscant only took around five hours, but it felt like weeks. There was nothing to do or read. He couldn’t have managed it even if there was. He wanted to nap, but the uncomfortable cuffs kept on nudging him awake. Force-suppressant cuffs always opened up a black hole inside of him that swallowed up every ounce of manda , but he could have sworn that the black hole felt…blacker. Deeper. A little different than usual.

Usual. Obi-Wan had a usual about being kidnapped, although this probably didn’t really count as a kidnapping. More like…oblique and enforced grounding. 

Obi-Wan absent-midedly ranked his kidnappings. Citadel at the bottom. No doubt. Dooku was probably right above that one. Best kidnapping was definitely that one time with Hondo - that had been hilarious. He had drugged Master and Grandmaster’s cups at dinner, chained them together with Dooku, and made them all escape the ship together. It had been hilarious. Obi-Wan was fine, obviously - Cody never let Obi-Wan drink unsecured food - and his masters seemed to have the whole matter well in hand, so he and Cody mostly just ended up hanging out with Hondo the whole time. They had watched the security footage of the prison cell together and listened to his whole lineage bickering awfully and endlessly, complete with Obi-Wan’s helpful gossip. Cody was not happy about the whole thing, but he had definitely snuck a copy of the tapes. Obi-Wan had lost a lot of respect for adults other than Cody that day.  Obi-Wan was losing a lot of respect for adults right now. 

For some reason, Obi-Wan reached into himself and found a deep and burning wish. Although he did not know why, although he had far more important wishes to make and more reliable people to choose, Obi-Wan found himself wishing with every ounce of his body and soul that Hondo was here now. Just for a laugh. 

Finally, finally, Obi-Wan felt the ship jump out of hyperspace. It roused and startled him a little bit, so he supposed that he might have fallen asleep after all. He counted down the exact fifty minutes it took from hyperspace to planetside docking, staring fixedly at his desk clock, but he still jolted when somebody knocked sharply at his door.

Of course, it was Cody again. Obi-Wan had spent every coherent thought drafting up a passionate argument for why Cody should free him, tell him what’s going on, and then let him help, but the sight of Cody standing in the doorway made the words slip away.

And instead of the well-reasoned arguments that had earned him so much notoriety, all Obi-Wan could say was, “You look tired.”

Cody stared at him yet again, for the now familiar long beats of silence, before he stepped back and gestured Obi-Wan forward. 

They walked slowly through the emptying halls. Obi-Wan had acclimated to the cuffs a little, and he could walk unassisted. He shook off Cody’s attempts to help. As they walked, more and more troopers joined them, and once they reached the ship bay he saw every trooper in the 212th marching into the planetary shuttles. More and more were joining them each second, forming a steady stream of disembarking troopers marching in steady lines towards Coruscant.

That wasn’t normal. Not whatsoever. Shore leaves were the only time that everybody left the ship, their next shore leave wasn’t scheduled for months. They sure didn’t go on shore leave fully kitted and armed. 

Cody packed Obi-Wan into the officer’s shuttle, and Obi-Wan was forced to watch as he did up his harness again. The pit was growing and growing. 

The shuttle to Coruscant was silent. Obi-Wan had nothing better to do than look out the window. There was the military spaceport where they would land - and there they went flying over it. They had completely missed their spaceport. Obi-Wan slowly straightened, almost pressing his face against the plasteel. They were flying through Coruscant itself.

He had never seen Coruscant from a ship. It wasn’t even all that different from seeing it on a speeder through the airlines, except from a different angle and far faster. The buildings blurred together in smears of grey and polish, and the fixed lighting illuminating each level streamed together in rivers of light. 

They landed in the private Senate spaceport, guaranteeing the personal ire of every single Senator and potentially causing Fox’s long overdue suicide. The gangplank opened again and the troopers began disembarking in silent unison. It would have felt like any other deployment, if Obi-Wan wasn’t wearing Force cuffs. 

The Senate spaceport looked the same as it ever did - or it would, if it wasn’t for the lines after lines of ship shuttles landing. They weren’t even just 212th shuttles, either - Obi-Wan counted shuttles from at least three other battalions. Engines roared so loudly that they practically pierced Obi-Wan’s ears, and as he disembarked he saw a steady and grumbling procession of tanks from the spaceport into civilian Coruscant. 

Cody ushered them towards one of the prepared transport tanks. Dust rose as shuttles cut the air overhead, a thick and familiar grinding of tread on cement crushing a familiar path throughout Obi-Wan’s mind. 

Obi-Wan should have known better. He did know better. He wanted to blame the cuffs for impairing his mind, for making him unobservant and slow, but he knew it was his own weakness. He had been drilled on this exact scenario a hundred times, had taken every possible CC course and training on how to navigate this setting, and he should have known what to do. He wasn’t a fresh padawan, he didn’t run from fights just because he was terrified. He should have bided his time, watched for an opening, waited -

But the minute he stepped onto the transport, the second he realized it was a tank class only used for occupied planets, he bolted. 

He misjudged his speed and mobility without the Force. He always did. Everything was always slower, as if he was wading through molasses. Obi-Wan thought that adrenaline would do the rest - or, maybe, he thought that he was strong even without the Force - but it didn’t even come close. 

Gunner grabbed him, before even Cody could. Obi-Wan wrestled in his arms, moved by pure panic, but when a knee slammed into his gut he lost all breath. He fell to the floor, wheezing, as angry voices immediately started snapping above his head. 

“ - insane? His master wants him untouched!”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry! I panicked!” Cold gloves grabbed at Obi-Wan’s collar, tugging him up, and Obi-Wan thrashed in the grip. “Commander, are you okay -”

“You panicked ?” Cody snarled. It was the special kind of anger he only got when he was stressed out of his mind. “A clone trooper panicked intercepting one teenager? Did you sleep through the nonviolent apprehension lessons?”

“C’mon, Marshal Commander, it’s not just one -”

“Give me him and get back in line.”

Hands passed him back to Cody, and Obi-Wan would have started thrashing in the grip if he wasn’t so out of breath. His vision was spinning, the knee to the stomach ten times as painful as usual, and Cody had to practically haul him into the transport and position him into a seat.

Obi-Wan watched as Cody did up his harness again, this time far more unnecessarily. Cody’s hands were trembling. Just for a few seconds. When the clone trooper next to them turned his head and saw it, Cody’s hands stopped shaking and he quickly finished the job.

“Let’s move,” Cody said, and the world lurched into -

Monsters emerged. 

“Master, the standard master-padawan curriculum says that you’re meant to teach me the theory of nothingness if I have unsettled qi flow. My qi flow has been very unsettled lately, so can we review the topic?”

Master stared at Obi-Wan blankly. “There’s a curriculum?”

Obi-Wan helpfully held up the datapad. The Jedi archives held many wonders. “It’s in the handbook. You did read the handbook, right?” Master’s blank stare did not abate. “You knew about the handbook, right?”

“Uh.” Master scratched his head, blowing a stray lock of hair out of his face. He was growing it out into a messy shag around his chin. It made him look very roguish. Obi-Wan was jealous. “My master never bothered with stuff like that, so…I don’t know. Sorry.” He brightened. “I can teach you lightsaber forms, though!”

Master Qui-Gon hadn’t taught him basic theoretical principles? Oh. Master had probably meant his first master. That was a thought, actually. Obi-Wan could ask Master Qui-Gon for help on the theoretical side. Obi-Wan was already noticing the effects of his unbalanced qi on his meditation, so it was a problem that ought to be solved.

…or he could learn lightsaber forms. 

Obi-Wan lowered the datapad, nodded fervently. “Sparring again?”

Master laughed, dropping his hand on Obi-Wan’s head and ruffling his hair. “You know it! Come on, I bet you’ll last more than twenty seconds against me this time.”

“I wouldn’t take that bet,” Obi-Wan muttered, but he didn’t fight the rising grin. “Will you meditate with me tomorrow morning? I could use some more guidance on -”

“I don’t meditate,” Master said, straight faced. “Like, ever.” 

“Master, that’s…”

Master dropped his hand, looking a little defensive. “I have my own kind of meditation! Training meditation, moving meditation! It’s a real thing. I can teach you that if you want. You’ll have to go to Master Qui-Gon to learn the boring kind.” 

“Right,” Obi-Wan said, feeling as if he was suffering from infinite transgressions. “Meditation. Boring. That…they are.” Obi-Wan thought meditation was calming, but he was not going to look uncool in front of Master. The paragon of coolness. “I will ask Grandmaster about them.”

“Cool! Come on, race you to the training hall!”

“Of course I can teach you the theoretical concept behind qi flow,” Master Qui-Gon said, not looking up from his datapad. “After I finish planning this campaign. Have you tried asking your master?”

“Um…”

“Ask him. This sort of thing is his responsibility, after all.”

“Master!” Obi-Wan waved fervently, poking his head out from between the clones. Master froze in his tracks, already half-pulling on a casual jacket. “I’m going to the Temple to catch up with my friends, can I introduce you to -”

“No way, Temple’s a drag.” Master quickly finished pulling on his jacket, fastening the buttons and finger-combing his shaggy hair. “I’m going to go - uh, meet up with a friend. See you later!”

The man had never exited a planetary shuttle so quickly. Obi-Wan watched him go, slowly lowering his hand. Rex quietly snickered beside him. 

“Bet you twenty creds where he’s going.”

On Obi-Wan’s other side, Appo rolled his eyes. “That’s a sucker’s bet.”

Yeah, Obi-Wan had a pretty good idea where he was going too. The same place he had disappeared to last shore leave. Obi-Wan hadn’t seen him at all that week. Except for that one time Obi-Wan tagged along with Nemo when he was visiting Stone at the Senate, where Obi-Wan saw him hanging out with Padme Amidala. He looked very surprised to see Obi-Wan and a little panicked.

“But I wanted to hang out with him,” Obi-Wan said. He hoped it didn’t sound too petulant or whiny. “I thought we could go to Dex’s…he used to go with his master, and he said that he’d go with me.”

Above his head, Rex and Appo did that thing where they stared at each other and twitched their eyebrows. It seemed a little frantic this time.

Finally, Rex bent down a little and smiled at him. Still a little frantically. “Well, why don’t we go?”

Obi-Wan brightened. Maybe he’d wanted his master to take him, but - “Really? You aren’t too busy?”

“Too busy to hang out with you? No way.” Rex clapped a hand on Obi-Wan’s shoulder, and Appo began waving down some of the nearby clones hanging out in a circle and making increasingly exotic plans for shore leave. “Let’s see how much of Torrent’s interested. Hey, Kix, get your shebs over here!”

Obi-Wan grinned, waving furiously too. “Kix! You and your shebs want to eat the greasiest food ever?”

“Are you kidding?” Kix said flatly. The clones he was talking to started staring significantly at each other. “You want to block your arteries? Increase your risk of cardiovascular disease? Shorten your lifespan?”

“Our lifespan’s not exactly long,” Appo said tactfully.

“Point. Sure, why not.” Kix turned around, gesturing at a few other friends. “Hey, who wants to make an irresponsible decision?”

“Irresponsible is right,” Appo muttered under his breath.

Tup, previously standing next to Kix enjoying an easy conversation and suddenly swarmed by clones drunk on novelty. “Can we really afford to buy food? None of us have money.”

True. Massive problem. Obi-Wan applied his full genius towards the problem, scrutinizing the riddle of capitalism and fighting valiantly to circumvent the inherent problems caused by their unpaid labor.

Obi-Wan snapped his fingers. “I’ll tell Dex to put it on Master Qui-Gon’s tab!”

The crowd cheered raggedly. 

Obi-Wan carefully shuffled out of the garbage chute in the kitchens.

He had to take a roundabout way to get here, including wriggling through an actively compacting trash compactor, but it would all be worth it. Obi-Wan had done cycles worth of investigative journalism into the matter, and he had finally found it: the guaranteed hot spot of top secret clone gossip. Rex had carelessly insinuated that the kitchen was where every clone learned the secrets of the other battalions. Whose Jedi was you know what ’ing with whose Jedi, that sort of stuff. Which meant that it would be the perfect place to begin building his intel network. The kitchens were technically off-limits to the Jedi, but that was what made them more enticing.

He could already hear the faint sounds of clones talking. The garbage chute he had chosen was the one located in the largely automated dishwashing room, and the hums of machinery and replicators from the eternally active kitchens were undercut with the sounds of clones talking. Obi-Wan strained his hearing and managed to pick up the conversation. 

“ - something weird with them?”

“Nah, I’ve noticed it too,” another clone said. Obi-Wan couldn’t tell them apart by voice yet, although they were getting better at it. “There’s just something - I don’t know. I can’t really put my finger on it.”

“Thank five gods, I thought it was just me,” a different clone said. He seemed relieved. “The other guys think I’m making shit up, but if you work this many joint missions with ‘em it gets so obvious. They think differently than we do. Maybe they were always like that and it’s just a battalion of freaks, but…”

“Wolfpack’s a battalion of freaks,” the first clone muttered.

A previously silent clone piped up. “Jinx’s a batchmate. He’s - like, got different. He changed. Hard to describe.”

“Yeah,” the second clone said. “I think it’s a 501st thing. Maybe it’s like…” He fell silent, grappling for the words. “Exposure? Like radiation? Maybe they have radiation poisoning.”

“Wouldn’t we have radiation poisoning too?” the third clone reasonably pointed out. 

“Fuck, man, I dunno, maybe we do. Ask your batchmate if you’ve been two bolts short of a blaster pack recently - sir! What’s -”

A beat of footsteps. Rapid shuffling and clanging of armor. Obi-Wan quickly began scrambling for the garbage chute. 

He was one leg and one arm back into the chute when the door to the dishwashing room slid open. Obi-Wan froze. Cody stood at the doorway, looking very severely unamused. Wow. New level of unamused. 

“How do you keep catching me?” Obi-Wan asked, baffled. 

That didn’t help. He got more unamused. Another, newer level of unamused was reached. More unamused than during the last land battle when Master threw him across -

Cody stalked over. Cody grabbed him by the collar of his tunic. Cody towed him across the floor. Obi-Wan went limp and let Cody drag him, just to be dramatic. 

Then Cody deposited him in the kitchen, right in front of a group of clones organizing tray lunches. Like Obi-Wan, they also froze. Unlike Obi-Wan, who mostly just felt put-out, they looked horrified.

“Um,” Obi-Wan said, “don’t stop on my account?”

Slowly, every word a vibroblade, Cody said, “I am escorting the Commander back to his rooms. Then I will return. And we will discuss how to prevent this from happening in the future .”

Interestingly, the clones looked as if Cody was about to maul them to death with his teeth. 

Obi-Wan waved apologetically at them as he was dragged away. Sorry for getting you guys in trouble. Be brave, courageous soldiers. Thank you for your sacrifice.

Obi-Wan slid out of the grate, carefully landing on the top shelf of cleaning chemicals in the supply closet. He looked downwards. 

Cody looked back up at him, arms crossed and tapping his foot. 

“Ah,” Obi-Wan said, “in my defense -”

“Let me guess,” Cody said mildly. “You woke up this morning cycle and decided that you have a deep and abiding love for mops?”

“How’d you know!”

“The cross-command clone trooper briefing had nothing to do with it?”

“I just really like mops, Cody!”

“How convenient,” Cody said, “I just noticed that the second starboard engine room hasn’t been cleaned in a month.”

“Honestly, I think mops and I are better off as friends, the love just isn’t alive anymore -”

Cody’s eye twitched.

Obi-Wan peeked out from underneath the cot. Those boots were familiar. Maybe he hadn’t noticed. 

Nope. The angry stride of those boots was very familiar. Obi-Wan frantically tried to shuffle away.

Cody knelt onto the floor, putting himself almost at eye level with Obi-Wan. Every other clone in the dormitory stood around gawking at them. Most of them couldn’t decide between laughing or horror. 

“Wow,” Obi-Wan said,  “was your eye twitch always that bad?”

“Seriously!” Obi-Wan shouted, as Cody picked him up by the armpits and plucked him out of the astromech droid well in the starfighter. “How do you keep catching me !”

“Your energy feels unbalanced, padawan.”

Obi-Wan exhaled slowly, struggling to steward the flow of energy within him. He knew it was unbalanced. It was obvious even to him. “I know, Grandmaster. I haven’t been keeping up with it.”

“A Jedi must meditate every day,” Qui-Gon chided gently. Obi-Wan’s energy tangled in knots. “Careful. Match my breath. I’ll help you steady yourself.”

They slowly transitioned to a guided meditation, where Qui-Gon directed the flow of energy and Obi-Wan matched him. It was a little embarrassing. Master said that his physical abilities outmatched any padawan his age in the Temple. Maybe they did. Master had to be just guessing on that one. Master hasn’t gone inside the Temple in who knows how long. 

Obi-Wan used to be good at the spiritual side of things. He used to even enjoy it. Now it was just frustrating. He felt so behind. 

“Let’s stop, padawan.” Qui-Gon’s voice was solemn, and Obi-Wan exhaled a heavy and embarrassed breath before he even opened his eyes. “Your energy is tumultuous. I understand you’re frustrated, but we must stream our feelings into the Force and allow them to course through us.” A little more gently, he said, “You wouldn’t have these troubles if we still lived at the Temple. Don’t blame yourself if you feel as if you’re running into walls.”

“You’re right! It’s not my fault!” Obi-Wan tried harder to wrangle his temper and frustration - the same awful traits that almost flunked him out, that would have flunked him out - but the tumultuous feelings pushed back for every push he gave. “How am I supposed to be balanced when we’re never on the same planet for more than a week? Blowing up factories isn’t that steadying !”

“Calm yourself,” Qui-Gon said pointedly, and he demonstrated deep and calming breaths until Obi-Wan reluctantly did the same. “I’m sorry, padawan. I am. But we must do the best we can under the circumstances. A Jedi can find their serenity underneath the heaviest blaster fire. Forgive yourself for the shortcomings you face today, and let’s work together to address them.”

“Yes, Grandmaster.”

Shortcomings. Shortcomings!

Obi-Wan rushed through the rest of the meditation session - first one in a week - and stormed through the halls of Perseverance in rapidly building anger. He wanted to cry a bit. Why was he getting scolded when none of this was his fault? Why was he in trouble when it was everyone else who messed up? It’s not Obi-Wan’s fault that Master hasn’t meditated a day in his life! And it wasn’t like either of them asked to be stuck in this stupid -

Obi-Wan’s feet stopped, narrowly avoiding a collision with Marshal Commander Cody. The Force saves, but the Force did not save Obi-Wan from flailing a little as he almost overbalanced. Cody, bucket clipped to his belt with a datapad in one hand, was forced to quickly reach out and catch Obi-Wan before he fell over. Obi-Wan found himself sagging in Cody’s grip, strange in his arms. 

“Seriously,” Obi-Wan muttered, “how do you keep catching me…”

“You ought to watch where you’re going, Commander,” Cody scolded lightly. He set Obi-Wan right side up again, quickly and completely unnecessarily brushing his tunic down. “How many times do I have to tell you not to run in the halls?”

“Sorry I suck at everything!” Obi-Wan yelled. “I’ll go die about it!”

He regretted it the second he said it. Time to get scolded again, called immature and impulsive, never have a single person care about why something was happening or if it wasn’t even his fault , and that he was sorry and didn’t want to be like this .

Cody’s eyebrows ticked together. Obi-Wan, who could understand even the most minute tells in Cody’s expression - Cody, above all others - could see that he was worried. “What’s wrong?””

“Why do you care?” Obi-Wan snapped. “I’m allowed to be in the hallway! What am I doing wrong? I must be doing something wrong, right? Because I’m always doing something wrong!”

Cody looked down at the datapad in his hands, at the very important work he was undoubtedly doing. He glanced at his wristcomm, which detailed an undoubtedly extremely full schedule. He looked at Obi-Wan, who was struggling hard not to cry. 

Then he pressed a button on his wristcomm, speaking into it. “Lieutenant Crys, reschedule our 1400 meeting. I’ll be unavailable until 1500.” He released the comm, looking back at Obi-Wan. “Let’s find someplace private.”

“You’re going to yell at me for an hour?” Obi-Wan asked, horrified. 

“...not this time.”

And so Obi-Wan was treated to the surreal experience of sitting in his cabin venting a list of his woes to the Marshal Commander of the GAR and Commander of the 212th Battalion. Cody wasn’t exactly the ‘feelings’ type, and probably wasn’t even the ‘likes Obi-Wan’ type, so Obi-Wan didn’t really know what he was doing here, but he was beyond caring. 

Cody was a good listener, unsurprisingly. Also unsurprisingly, he tackled Obi-Wan’s exhaustive retelling of his problems like he would a military debriefing. He sat next to Obi-Wan on his cot and nodded at all the right intervals, brow slightly furrowed and clearly listening intently. 

Obi-Wan knew more monks than the average person, so he knew people with intense presences or whose attention felt almost physical. Any Jedi master held a powerful aura, both light and calm while being steady and grounded. The force-null clones - famously absolute rocks in the Force, and about as interpretable - shouldn’t have had much of an aura at all. Many of them did anyway. Nobody could focus like a clone. Nobody else could memorize you at a glance, dissect you cleanly, and either dismiss you as a threat or decide you’re a danger in only a second. When a clone looked at you, he was looking at you. Probably for weapons.

But Cody was different. Nobody had a presence like Cody’s. Cody’s attention…there was something absolute about it. All-encompassing, with the weight of a neutron star. It was really scary when he was mad - sorry, ‘unimpressed’ - at you. But at other times…it just felt as if he was really listening to what you had to say.

“I just feel like I can’t win,” Obi-Wan finished lamely. Cody had listened to the entire messy and self-pitying story as if Obi-Wan had been briefing him in a war room. Obi-Wan knew that his problems weren’t actually that important. Even if it felt like it sometimes. “It doesn’t matter what I do, it just isn’t good enough. I swear I’m working hard, I know I’m trying, but it’s like I can’t do anything right. Master never even wanted a padawan, and - and I thought I could make him want me around, but…” 

Obi-Wan trailed off, mostly because he didn’t want to finish that sentence. Cody waited for him to finish speaking, and Obi-Wan felt the weird urge to say ‘Briefing’s over, you’re dismissed’ or something.

Cody seemed to decide it was his turn to speak. “Generals Skywalker and Jinn are highly invested in you, Commander.” Obi-Wan gave him a skeptical look, and Cody amended his statement. “They care about you very much. They’re just…occupied.”

“You were occupied,” Obi-Wan said grumpily, “and you’re still here listening to me whine. Everybody says that the 501st and the 212th are the best match-up in the GAR, that my lineage is the best team, that we’re the perfect match-up in a battle, but the second we get off the field we’re all disasters. Some heroes we make.”

They sat in awkward silence for a little while. Obi-Wan stared fixedly away from Cody and felt very thoroughly worse. Cody shifted a little on the cot, his obvious discomfort making the springs groan. Obi-Wan half wanted to stick himself up an elevator shaft just to make the guy feel more comfortable. 

People like Cody didn’t do feelings, or maybe he just didn’t have any. He was professional, prim, and perfect. His biggest hobby was crashing whatever fun adventure Obi-Wan and Torrent were having and scolding them for breaking the rules and/or endangering Obi-Wan and/or letting Obi-Wan stay up past his bedtime. Apparently Grandmaster had asked him to look after Obi-Wan when he and Master weren’t available, and although he had probably just meant on the battlefield Cody seemed to take the direction seriously and apply it over all aspects of Obi-Wan’s life. Figured that the one time Grandmaster would go out of his way to worry about Obi-Wan’s safety would result in endless harassment about his air vent hobbies. 

Unexpectedly, Cody spoke again. 

“I can’t say I relate to this. I was the highest all-around performer in my batch.” Cody sounded impossibly awkward, but the determination was palpable. He might as well be charging into a Seppie base in a firefight. Probably chasing after Obi-Wan. “But I remember how it feels to…never be good enough. And the pressure. Twenty gods, the pressure…” Cody trailed off, falling silent for a second, before speaking again. “You don’t have to feel that pressure. It’s…I would rather nobody feel that pressure.”

“Even me?” Obi-Wan asked grumpily. 

“Especially you.” 

Obi-Wan’s gut squirmed a little. He turned back to look at Cody, who was the most uncomfortable Obi-Wan had ever seen him. “Even though I’m really annoying and I’m in the air vents all the time?”

Straight faced, Cody said, “Air vents and all.”

“Oh.” Obi-Wan felt bad about the air vent thing now. And a little bit as if he wanted Cody to catch him in the air vents every day for the next five years. “Thanks, I guess. But you don’t have to worry. There’s no pressure when the teachers don’t care what you do. Grandmaster barely even trains me.”

“He’s just -” Cody stopped short, eyes widening a fraction. “He barely trains you.”

“Okay, rub it in.”

Almost a little stressed out, Cody said, “You’re not being adequately prepared for battle.”

“I get it, I suck!”

Almost to himself, Cody said, “Insufficient training isn’t the fault of the student. You’re clearly willing to put in the adequate amount of work. You just lack opportunity.”

“I’m really doing my best…”

“He trains with Rex and the others frequently,” Cody said, and now he was definitely muttering to himself, “but there’s noticeable gaps in his education. He doesn’t even know the first thing about bomb disarmament…that’s an unacceptable risk. Not addressing the problem would be negligent.”

Well, you definitely couldn’t accuse Cody of being negligent. About anything. Even things Obi-Wan would much rather he be negligent about. “This isn’t exactly in your job description,” Obi-Wan said, unimpressed. “Don’t you have a million other things that are more important than worrying about my competencies?”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Cody said, thoroughly distracted by his supercomputer mind composing infallible plans of attack, “nothing’s more important than you.”

Obi-Wan didn’t say anything.

“I’ll have to train him,” Cody muttered to himself. “But I only know how to train a…but if there’s no other option…it’s not as if he couldn’t do it…and I still have those old CC training modules…”

A little weakly, Obi-Wan said, “Cody?”

Cody snapped back to attention, suddenly remembering that Obi-Wan was present. Something seemed to settle into place for him, and he gave Obi-Wan a professional nod. “I can’t help train you on becoming a Jedi, Commander. But I can make you a soldier. A specific type of soldier - the soldier that I am.” He smiled thinly when he saw Obi-Wan’s confused look. “A Mandalorian, technically.”

“A Mandalorian?” Obi-Wan had learned about Mandalorians in his Cultures of the Galaxy class. And a lot of his history classes. They were very influential historically. Something about being one of the largest empires in history. “Why would you teach me about that? I’m not a Mandalorian.”

“Being a Mandalorian isn’t about where you’re born or who you’re born to. It’s a way of life, an ethos. A warrior’s lifestyle defined by honor and clan.” Cody’s voice slipped into that familiar lecture cadence. As usual, Obi-Wan hung onto every word. Nobody else ever did, but they all said they were too used to his lectures. “You just need to have what it takes. As you’ve adequately demonstrated that you’re stubborn, resilient, reckless, and competent, training you should be perfectly possible.” Pointedly, Cody said, “You are willing to learn, right?” He paused a beat. “And also to never, ever, ever tell anyone about this?”

“Of course I’m willing to learn!” Obi-Wan said heatedly. “This is the way of the soldier, right? That’s the one thing I’m good at! I can actually do this! And of course I won’t tell anybody.”

“I know you can do it. You have the 501st and 212th as teachers. I have full faith in you. I expect only the best.” Cody’s expression adopted a strange tint, but Obi-Wan couldn’t identify it. “But…how we feel about you isn’t determined by your performance. It’s - irrelevant. To your place with us. No matter what you do, Commander Kenobi, we won’t be disappointed in you. You understand.” Another strange emotion flashed across Cody’s face. “You do understand. Correct?”

“How you feel about me?” Obi-Wan asked. He almost didn’t want to. He was a little afraid of what Cody might say. If he wouldn’t say anything at all. “How do you guys feel about me?”

Cody just looked at him. For the first time, Obi-Wan felt how close they were on the bed - how their legs were almost brushing. Looking up at Cody like this, he seemed larger than life and twice as close. 

Finally, he said, “We want you to be safe.”

Cody made time for him. Cody said he was his highest priority. Cody was going to train him. Cody wanted him to be safe. Cody…

At that moment, Cody was Obi-Wan’s entire galaxy. 

“If you’re on the case,” Obi-Wan said, “then I’m not worried at all.”

“Good.” Cody nodded at him, professional to the end. “If you work hard enough, soon you’ll be able to muun’bajir Rex. I’ll pay to see that.” After a second’s consideration, he said, “You’ll have to learn Mando’a, I suppose. Muun’bajir means -”

“To beat up! Beating Rex is my biggest vercopa , Cody, I swear it’ll happen one day!”

Cody stopped short. “When did you…did the men tell you that word?”

Uh oh. Obi-Wan didn’t want to throw any of the men under the bus here. Truthfully, he said, “No, I just figured it out. I pay attention, you know. But none of you ever said it was Mando’a! I thought it was, like, weird clone slang.”

“...it’s at least half weird clone slang.”

“I’ll ask Hardcase to teach me the curse words,” Obi-Wan said grimly. He already knew he wasn’t getting anything out of Cody. “So when do we start?”

Cody smiled at him, eyes creasing. “We’ve already begun.”

Chapter Text

“Classes?” Master asked. “You still take those?” 

“I’m technically supposed to.” Obi-Wan showed him his school datapad. He had virtual versions of every required padawan class. Galactic cultures, History of the Jedi, economics, poetry, and literature. “If we don’t complete ‘em then a note gets sent to our masters.”

“Oh.” Master absently juggled his lightsabers. The air was thick and smoky, and it was still tinged with the acrid scent of bombs. “You can do whatever classes you want, honestly. Doesn’t matter to me. Master’s about to call and give the go-ahead to continue our advancement, so get ready.”

Jinx peered over Obi-Wan’s shoulder, scrutinizing the datapad. After a few thoughtful seconds, he said, “General’s right. That stuff doesn’t seem to matter too much.”

“Yeah,” Obi-Wan said, slowly deleting classes off the datapad. Poetry, Literature, and History of the Jedi disappeared in the blink of an eye. “Not a good use of my time.”

Obi-Wan opened up the encrypted executable that Bly had sent, downloading the CC training modules. Honestly, he had actually been hoping that Master would say that. No way he would have time to do the training modules and all those classes. 

“Obi-Wan? You coming?”

“Yeah,” Obi-Wan said, watching the files load, “I’ll be right there.”

“Come on, Commander.” Cody had one firm hand on Obi-Wan’s elbow, pulling him upwards. Two other clones were throwing tarps over the bodies. Waxer was motioning a cargo speeder closer, to haul them away. “Let me teach you our rites. You’re such a fast learner. I bet you can memorize them all.”

“I got a note from your educational coordinator,” Grandmaster said, holding his datapad away from his face and squinting at it. He needed glasses. “Apparently you stopped fulfilling your class assignments. And…dropped out of quite a few courses.”

Obi-Wan shoved another forkful of rations in his face. Yay, rations. “Yeah.”

“Hm.” Grandmaster shrugged, tossing the datapad over his shoulder. “Good for you. Formalized education is child brainwashing, in my opinion.”

“We learn through the school of life here,” Master said wisely, which was perhaps the first time he had ever agreed with Grandmaster. 

“Ni su'cuyi, gar kyr'adyc.”

“Ni su’cuyi, gar kyr…”

“Kyr’adyc.”

“Kyr’adyc.”

“Ni su’cuyi, gar kyr’adyc ni partayli, gar darasuum.”

“Ni su’cuyi, gar kyr’adyc ni partayli, gar darasuum.”

“Now you say their names,” Cody said. “Are you ready?”

Obi-Wan readied the flimsi of names in front of him. He’d written them out very carefully. Closer to the bottom, the letters had grown smaller and more cramped. The last name trailed along the border. 

“Ready!”

“Obi-Wan! Are you free for some training?”

“Sorry, Master,” Obi-Wan said, distractedly lacing up his boot. “I told Kix I’d take some field medic classes from him today. Why don’t you spar with Grandmaster instead?”

Just for a second, Master looked a little thrown. “Uh - yeah, sure. Have fun?”

“Thanks,” Obi-Wan said, slinging his kit over his shoulder. “See you later.”

“Grandmaster! Do you want to go to Dex’s? You kept on telling me about the botanical garden too, right?”

Grandmaster sighed, kneading his forehead. There was something defeated in the slump of his shoulders. It wasn’t defeat - they had won the campaign, after long and hard work. They had lost a lot of men, but Cody had recited the prayers for brothers marching on with him. It helped. Cody let Obi-Wan cry into his chest, which had helped too. Obi-Wan had sworn him to secrecy. “Maybe next time, padawan. I…wish to meditate in my quarters. I think I need to rest.”

Obi-Wan watched Grandmaster turn his back and walk away, his straight and proud Jedi posture looking thin and weak. Next to him, Wooley whistled. 

“Wow,” Wooley said mildly, “Jedi sure are always busy with something.”

“Yeah,” Obi-Wan said, feeling unpleasantly sour, “they sure are.”

Obi-Wan stood outside of the cabin door, exhaling. He shook out his limbs a little bit, falling back on an old Mandalorian trick to soothe the nerves before battle. 

He palmed open the cabin door, slowly poking his head inside.

“ - don’t care, you never have! Just admit that I’m a disappointment and I’ll get out of your hair!”

Grandmaster was still sitting in his chair, pinching his nose hard. Master was standing across the table from him, face flushed. “And just admit that you never intended on giving me a chance. If we can have one dinner together without fighting -”

“As if I’m the one starting the fights? You’re the one who keeps pissing me off!”

“And you’re the one who is impossibly stubborn -”

“Admit that I’m a disappointment,” Master hissed. He squeezed his fist so hard that the hydraulics creaked. “You had all these expectations for me, the prophecy kid or what-the-fuck-ever.” Whoah, bad word! “But somebody actually cared about me as a person , and now all of my potential as a Jedi’s wasted. You look at me and all you see is the wasted potential of someone who could have been a genius if he was built right .”

“You are a genius, Anakin,” Grandmaster said sharply. “That was never in doubt, and my faith in you has never waned. Stop telling me what I believe and think. You don’t understand people as well as you think you do. Regardless of my opinions on her methods -”

“I knew it! You do blame her, don’t you!”

“I supported her methods! Do you not remember when I was her only supporter? But Ahsoka was negligent in your -”

“Master wasn’t negligent in anything !”

“Must you keep yelling? Obi-Wan will be here any moment -”

“What, the padawan you insisted I wasn’t ready for?”

“You have not yet proven me wrong!”

Obi-Wan stomped back to the mess hall, throwing himself at a random spot between random clones. They parted easily for him. One of them passed him dried fruit.

“You were right,” Obi-Wan said. “I don’t know what I expected.”

“Padawan, why don’t you join me for guided meditation in my quarters?”

Obi-Wan didn’t slow down. He was planning out the next campaign with three clones at the same time, and they almost had the new maneuver down. “Busy. Sorry, maybe next time.”

The crowd of people cheered. They clapped, hollered, screamed. Others ran away. 

Obi-Wan stared at the head lolling on the ground. The defused bomb, deactivated when the bomber’s heart stopped, lay in two pieces on the stone floor. Obi-Wan stared at the head. 

“You did it, Commander!” A hand slapped his back. “You saved the squadron!”

“Nice job, Obi-Wan!” A hand ruffled his hair. “You’re a hero!”

“No time for any of this, I’m afraid. The mastermind must be getting away.”

A hand clapped Obi-Wan on the shoulder. A voice spoke quietly into his ear. 

“You have manda’kala , Obi-Wan,” Cody’s voice said. “You’re a warrior.”

The head’s jaws drooped open. A tongue lolled. 

“You were excellent.” There was pride, in that voice. “No hesitation. No faltering. You saw what needed to be done and you did it with perfect skill. No Mandalorian could have done it better.”

Obi-Wan’s own tongue and jaws created a question.

“We don’t do rites for the enemy.”

Obi-Wan’s jaws opened.

“Let’s go someplace quieter, Commander.”

Nightmares reigned.

Obi-Wan sat on the hard plasteel chair, covered only by a thin and brightly colored cushion. The office was filled with soothing yet energizing colored paintings, with a few obligatory tasteful hanging scrolls hanging behind the Pantoran’s desk. The calligraphy scroll above the desk read ‘GREAT EFFORT’. Frankly, Obi-Wan thought that ‘great effort’ was the one thing he could be accused of retaining.

Next to him, Master slouched in his chair with folded arms staring at the ceiling. He had obviously been in here far more times than Obi-Wan had. From the feel of his Force signature, he had assumed he’d never be in here again and was unhappy to be proven wrong. 

“Seven counts of truancy. Repeated disrespectful behavior in lessons. Repeated disrespectful attitude towards the instructor. Four missed assignments in only one class. And he misses half of his group sessions.” Master Ho’an scrolled down on the datapad, fixing her small glasses perching on the bridge of her nose. “Those are the complaints from his teachers. Now I see the submitted complaints from others in the Temple…Padawan Obi-Wan has been cited for disrespecting a senior master five times.”

Master leaned to the side, talking to Obi-Wan in a low voice. “Was one of them to Yon Jinko?”

“I said he won’t have to suffer the disrespectful youth if he checked into a retirement Temple.”

“Heh, nice.”

Louder, Master Ho’an said, “And he’s been caught in fights with senior padawans twice.”

Master side-eyed Obi-Wan. Obi-Wan was scandalized. “Of course I won.”

Master gave him a low high five. 

“Knight Skywalker, this is not a joke. If it wasn’t for this crisis state the Temple is in, this level of behavioral conduct and antisocial behavior would result in serious censorship.” Ho’an replaced the datapad on their crowded desk, staring Master down firmly. “What have you done to address these behavioral issues?”

“Uh…” Master glanced at Obi-Wan for help. Obi-Wan shook his head. He couldn’t toss the life preserver today. It was sink or swim for Master. “You get that this is the first time Obi-Wan’s spent over a week at the Temple in, like, six months, right? This is the first time we’ve ever had meaningful time between deployments. What am I supposed to do, punish him for being late to his asynchronous virtual class?”

Ho’an tapped the datapad. “He dropped out of most of his classes months ago.”

“Which means there’s been no problem.” Master straightened, and for the first time he looked a little more serious. “Sorry he’s not the kind of Jedi y’all want. Maybe if the Temple wasn’t in a state of crisis he’d be better. And Obi-Wan and I are kind of busy constantly saving planets and winning the war, so I’d appreciate it if you stopped wasting my time with all these letters and meetings.” He glanced at Obi-Wan from the corner of his eye, and something in his expression seemed to harden. “And I wouldn’t complain if you supplied some actual gratitude for once instead of berating us for existing.”

The padawan supervisor visibly called upon her Jedi patience. Visibly. It was always a success when Obi-Wan made the other Jedi almost physically call upon the Force for patience. “You sound like your first master. I’m not surprised. She chose to pull you from classes instead of working through your educational problems. And she took you on long missions so frequently that you never had to learn how to function in the Temple. Or as a Jedi.”

“There was nothing wrong with how Master taught me!” Master snapped. He straightened fully in his chair, aura quickly darkening. Ho’an raised a thin white eyebrow. “You all just have something against her because she wasn’t your idea of a perfect Jedi. But she was a perfect master who actually cared about me as a person , so I guess they’re mutually exclusive.”

“‘Something against her for not being a perfect Jedi’?” Ho’an asked, faintly exasperated. For a Jedi, that said a lot. “Knight Skywalker, she was expelled from the Order.”

“She was cleared of all charges and she left of her own volition.” Master said the words hurriedly and rotely, as if he’d said them a dozen times before. He had - Master had to defend his master constantly. He was the only one who did. “Just like we’re leaving. Come on, Obi-Wan, let’s go. You’re sentenced to…swabbing the deck or something, I’ll think of it later.”

Master strode out of the office, footsteps hot and heavy, and Obi-Wan had to hurry to catch up to him. 

His aura was growing darker and darker, and the passing padawans actively shied away from both of them. When Obi-Wan finally caught up to Master, he saw how tight and angry his expression really was. 

“They’re against you. Of course they’re against you, you’re stuck with me. They’ve always had something against me, they’ve always had something against her - since her master left the Order and she accepted me it only got worse, you should have seen the way they treated us. Master Qui-Gon’s a better Jedi than any of them and they hate him just because he doesn’t march along to their authoritarian beat. We’re not the problem. They are. They’re the problem.”

A horrible feeling rang in Obi-Wan’s chest, poisoned and sick and almost tangible. It was too strong to ignore. That feeling always returned when Master got like that , and Obi-Wan always tried so hard to do something about it. 

“Master! Master, wait, hold up.” 

Obi-Wan held out a hand in front of Master until he finally slowed down, and Obi-Wan guided him into an abandoned classroom. One of the many abandoned classrooms. They had so many less padawans than they used to. Why didn’t they focus on that? Why didn’t they care about the padawans who were dead instead of micromanaging the padawans who had survived? 

Hopefully Obi-Wan’s calming and hopeful aura helped. Master did calm down eventually, the poisoned feeling fading slowly from his aura. Obi-Wan reached up and tried to put hands on his shoulders, the way Cody always did when he was calming Obi-Wan down - okay, he couldn’t reach, let’s hold his hands. 

“Who cares what they think, Master?” Obi-Wan said, injecting as much passion as he could into his aura. “They don’t know us. They don’t even know what they’re talking about! A dull spear doesn’t pierce.” Whoops, that was a Mandalorian proverb. Master didn’t seem to notice. “Who cares if we’re not good Jedi? We’re good at our real jobs. We’re the best at our real jobs. Everybody knows it, right? Everybody in the Temple knows you’re a hero!” Master finally brightened, and Obi-Wan fought an exhale of relief. Flattering him always worked. “Care about the people who care about you. Don’t give a womp-rat’s sh - ass about people who don’t. Give exactly what you get.” More Mandalorian ethos, but it wasn’t as if Master knew that. They were right, anyway. “So just chill. You get too dangerous when you’re angry.”

“Yeah. Yeah, you’re - you’re right.” Master smiled, and he released Obi-Wan’s hands so he could bend down and give him a hug. Obi-Wan tightly squeezed him back. He smelled like oil and ozone. “I love you, Obi-Wan. Don’t ever forget that.”

Master was the only Jedi Obi-Wan knew who said things like that. A lot of texts said that saying things like that didn’t cohere with Jedi philosophies. As if Obi-Wan cared. “I love you too, Master.”

“Good.” Master released him, straightening. He unconsciously started finger-combing his hair, the thick glove just matting it a little. “Well, that wasted a lot of time I could have spent - ah, relaxing. So let’s split here.”

It was time to play Obi-Wan’s final card. He felt secure in his position already, but this would really cinch it. With this piece of intel, Obi-Wan wouldn’t have to give a womp-rat’s shebs about ‘acting like a Temple padawan’ ever again. “Spending with Padme, you mean?”

Master froze, eyes widening. “Yup. We’re good friends. Everybody knows this.”

“Uh- huh . You kiss all your friends like that?” Master’s eyes widened to the size of dinner plates, and Obi-Wan didn’t fight the smirk. “Every corner of a Star Destroyer’s surveilled and recorded, you know. I have two minutes of proof.”

Master’s eyes skittered to the side. He started sweating a little. “I didn’t take a chastity vow.”

“Every corner of a Star Destroyer’s surveilled and recorded. With audio .” Master blanched. “Lots and lots of lovey -”

“Okay, what do you want.”

“Who said I want anything?”

“I can’t believe I let you have blackmail on me.” Master scrubbed his face, his aura plunging into desolation. “I’m so sunk. Nobody who lets you get blackmail on them survives it.”

“I’m not a cruel man,” Obi-Wan protested. “I’m no snitch. I’ll just keep it in my back pocket. No cut, no blood, right?”

“Great,” Master said glumly, “leverage.”

“You’re drawing some very cruel assumptions about me, Master.”

“Accurate ones. I was there when you broke that Govenor into pieces with nothing but capitol gossip, you know. He was still crying when we left atmo.”

“That’s just negotiations. People love my negotiations. They’re my specialty.”

“Your specialty is blackmail, manipulation, and bludgeoning people to death with your words.” But Anakin just sighed and smiled, and Obi-Wan found himself smiling too. “You know, it’s kind of nice having somebody who knows. You’re the one person I always wanted to know. Padme’s always wanted to spend more time with you, you know. She wants to get to know the people important to me.”

Really? Natborns never voluntarily wanted to be around Obi-Wan. Like, ever. “That…sounds good.”

The more Master spoke, the more he warmed to the idea. “Maybe we can use this break in deployments to take a vacation to Naboo. She’s always talking about taking a trip there again. We can all go, just the three of us. Spend real time together. I’ll be able to introduce you two as family, the relationship you should have. Hell, she’s almost your sister-in-law.”

“She’s my what ?”

It was strange. Master was happy, chattering away about his favorite spots on Naboo. About the fun they would have with Padme together, away from all of the fighting and boredom. It was going to be perfect. Just the three of them. 

But Obi-Wan’s poisonous bad feeling didn’t abate. It just got worse. It spread from his gut to his chest, to his heart and throat, until it felt like he was going to vomit with it. But Obi-Wan didn’t know what to do to fix it - he had already cheered up Master, what else was he supposed to do - so he just lived with it.

And the bad feeling grew and grew and grew.

Grandmaster squinted at the datapad readout. “Why am I getting a notification that Padawan Obi-Wan Kenobi is on academic and training probation?”

“The Temple’s intimidated by nonconformists,” Master said loyally. 

Obi-Wan nodded. “I refused to be beholden by their fascist, authoritarian brainwashing and become one of the mindless sheeple.”

Master squinted at Obi-Wan. “What’s ‘fascist’ mean?”

“People Jedi hate.”

“Can’t be that bad, then.”

“Good for you. It’s important that you two are free thinkers.” Grandmaster frowned at the datapad. “It says that Obi-Wan’s gotten into four different unsanctioned lightsaber fights with other padawans. And…one knight.” Obi-Wan began shoving rations into his mouth as fast as possible. “Hm. Did you win?”

Obi-Wan nodded as fast as possible. 

“Even against the knight?”

Obi-Wan swallowed. “I was underwhelmed, honestly. He hit the mat in three minutes.”

“Well, you’re learning the important things.” Master Qui-Gon casually tossed the datapad over his shoulder. Cody dived to catch it. “Try harder not to get caught next time.”

Obi-Wan Kenobi and Anakin Skywalker high-fived. 

“Sorry, can’t talk, Padme’s expecting me for our date.” Master said, frantically combing his hair. So Padme had finally won that fight. “You’ll cover for me, right, Obi-Wan?”

“We will reconvene later, padawan,” Master Qui-Gon said, rubbing his forehead. “I’m going to retreat to my quarters. I’m…just tired.”

“Are you sure you’re not getting tea with Master Tahl?” Obi-Wan muttered.

“What was that?”

“Whatever.”

He was totally getting tea with Master Tahl. What a liar.

“It was them or you,” Cody repeated. He let Obi-Wan clutch at him, fingers hooking onto the panels of his armor, smearing the clean white with a fresh handprint of blood. Warm, strong arms were wrapped around him. It was his only solace. That warmth, and those words. “A Mandalorian is never ashamed of what he has to do, Commander. It was them or you.”

“They shouldn’t have given Knight Skywalker a padawan,” the passing Jedi said. “Look at how he turned out.”

“What do you think,” Obi-Wan said, in accented but meticulously practiced Mando’a. “Am I a real Mandalorian now or what?”

Rex happily ruffled his hair. Obi-Wan’s brand new arm vambraces were shining in the artificial glow of the ship lights, and the leather straps to his new shin armor still creaked.“You’re a real vod , that’s for sure. What do you think, guys, could we pick him out of a 501st lineup?”

Hardcase laughed, slapping Obi-Wan on the back. He didn’t even stumble this time! “He’s a little bit short to be a clone trooper, but if we stick some lifts in the armor -”

“Paint it a fetching shade of blue,” Echo mused. 

“Then I couldn’t see the difference!”

Even Cody smiled at him. In Mando’a, he said, “You’ve worked hard, Commander.”

Rex leaned in, loudly whispering in Obi-Wan’s ear. “That means he’s soooo proud of you.”

“Rex.”

“And that he thinks you’re super cool and he totally forgives you for that black market ring.”

“He never says he’s proud of me,” Wooley said, wounded. 

“I did not say I was proud of anyone!”

Rex tsk’d, resting an elbow on Obi-Wan’s head. Obi-Wan immediately began trying to bite him. “Denial, denial, denial. Doesn’t look good on you, Codes.”

“Shut up , Rex!”

“I’ll keep working hard, Marshal Commander,” Obi-Wan said, halting his valiant attempts to chew Rex’s hand off so he could thump a fist over his heart. A salute, in the Mandalorian way. “I won’t let you down.”

Cody’s eyes creased. “I’ll be proud of you anyway, Commander.” He paused a beat. “Nowhere did I say that you are relieved of your punishment for the black market ring -”

“You have no proof, Marshal Commander! Show me proof!”

“I don’t need proof -”

There was no bad feeling. If there was, the glow in Obi-Wan’s chest masked it well.

“You’ll never make it to knighthood at this rate, Padawan Kenobi,” Ki Adi Mundi scolded. “If you continue as you are now, you’ll never even become a Jedi.”

Obi-Wan rolled his eyes. “So?”

Censure number whatever achieved. 

Behind his general, Bacara snickered. 

It was impossible to make Bacara laugh. He was totally bragging about this to the men later. They always thought Obi-Wan talking back against a venerated master Jedi was the funniest thing, so Obi-Wan felt galvanized to keep doing it.

“CT-4321. CT-8449. CT-9001. CC-2319.”

Obi-Wan’s forehead pressed against his knees. His eyes were screwed shut, and his hands were clamped over his ears. The jostling and jolting of the transport ship rattled his teeth, and he heard the sound of Cody’s voice above the din. 

“CC-4499. CT-3293. CT-3121. CC-4852.”

Footsteps clicked the metal grating as armor shuffled, until somebody was standing right in front of Obi-Wan. Two firm hands grasped Obi-Wan’s forearms, and they forced his hands off his ears and back into his lap. Obi-Wan opened his eyes and saw Cody in front of him, pulling Obi-Wan back up straighter. 

Cody stepped away, back to his position in the front of the ship. Every other trooper was sitting in silence, heads bowed, eyes open.

“CT-1221,” Cody resumed reading, voice strong. “CT-9449. CT-4211.”

Obi-Wan sat quietly, hands in his lap, and mouthed the rites under his breath as he listened to every name. 

“I’m sick of this! I’m just so sick of it, guys!”

Training had devolved into Obi-Wan resolutely kicking a wall. He had a lot of feelings to deal with and releasing them into the Force was a crapshoot, so he had done his usual and tried to work it out through sparring and training. But he’d sparred against everybody looking for an opponent in the training hall and he was still angry, just so freaking pissed!

Behind him, a large handful of clones were all giving each other significant looks. Obi-Wan knew a microexpression debate when he saw one. If he stared for too long they might think he was catching on, so he settled for keeping watch out of the corner of his eye. So far as he could tell, somebody had a proposal and half of them thought it was a good idea. The other half thought it was terrible. 

“I can’t stand another second in that place!” Kick, kick, kick. It wasn’t actually making him feel better - and it was putting an increasingly sizable dent in the wall - but Obi-Wan couldn’t muster up the self-control to grab his lightsaber and start whaling on some of the training robots. Give him a few more good kicks. “The knights and masters treat me like I’m some kind of delinquent or something, as if they’re just waiting for me to mess up! Who cares if I’m being disrespectful or sassy or whatever, at least then they’re looking at me! Nobody looks at me or talks to me unless they’re scolding me!” The clone debate grew more heated. “And the other padawans act like I’m some kind of bully ! As if I’m bullying them! They’re just prejudiced against strong padawans who actually talk straight. I swear, it’s like they tell each other not to talk to me!”

“You do have two more weeks until we’re deployed again,” Attie said pointedly. Second significant period of time between deployments: just as fun as the first! “There’s really nowhere else for you to go. That’s not crawling with Jedi.”

“I don’t know,” Kix said forcefully. For some reason. “Is he really safe outside of the Temple?”

“You heard the kid,” Jinx said. “He’s practically bullying them.”

“No I’m not!”

“He’s practically bullying them. Maybe outside of the Temple’s the only place where he can learn good habits.”

“Good habits,” Kix panned.

“You know,” Attie said, “the right habits.”

They were probably talking about his newfound wall-kicking habit, which wasn’t exactly mature. Obi-Wan made himself stop and turn around, focusing on the garbage breathing that he sucked at. It felt way too late to learn how to be good at it. Didn’t he used to be good at it? Those days felt so long ago. “I’m sorry that I don’t have good habits,” Obi-Wan said, and what was meant to come out angry just sounded a little miserable. “The Temple just makes me feel alone. I never talk to anybody there.”

The clones looked at each other and drew a conclusion.

“You’re insane.” Fives threw up his hands and walked away from the group, as if he couldn’t bear to be associated with them anymore. “All of you are insane. It’s like you aren’t even hearing yourselves. Brain cells have been dripping out of your ears since the second you left Kamino.” 

“At least we had brain cells to begin with.” Finally, Rex stepped forward. He hadn’t said anything yet, but he was a big leader in the eyebrow debate. He smiled a little at Obi-Wan, a little nervous and a little defiant. “Hey, why don’t you come back with us to the barracks instead? Dunno if you’ll learn less bad habits, but you’ll probably get some better ones.”

The barracks ? The clone barracks ? The place that natborns weren’t allowed within five hundred yards of? Like several floors of the Senate building, they were buildings so incredibly closed down that they were practically mythological to natborns. Other padawans suspected that’s where they grew more clones. Obi-Wan was told not to tell them about Kamino, so he let them wonder.

“Are you serious?” Obi-Wan gasped. “I mean - yeah, yeah! I’m down! I’m totally down!”

“We’ll have ground rules,” Kix said severely. “ Nonoptional ones.”

“Got it!”

“Not cute rules. Not rules that make you a mischievous little scamp if you break them. Actual rules . Or you’re out on your shebs .”

“Come on, I’ve proved that I can keep a secret,” Obi-Wan swore in Mando’a. “I’ve kept every secret you’ve given me so far, right?” Kix grunted in acknowledgement. “I’ve never told anybody about anything. It’s not like I talk to anybody but you guys. Who would I tell?”

“And now he really won’t talk to anybody but us,” Fives groused. 

Attie elbowed him. “What a shame.”

On his other end, Jinx poked him. “That would be so bad for him.”

“Codes would hate it,” Rex said solemnly. 

Every clone snickered. Obi-Wan laughed too, just so he wasn’t excluded.

He couldn’t afford to be excluded from this too. 

“Fine,” Cody said, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Consider it a fourteenth birthday present.”

“Woo-hoo! You won’t regret this, Cody!”

“I already am,” Cody said, but he was smiling all the same. 

Cody looked up from his formwork. 

He looked over at Obi-Wan, sitting next to him at his office desk, happily kicking his feet as he forged signature after signature. He looked at his own work, split in half. He looked at the thermos of caff on his desk, brought by an attentive Obi-Wan as the introductory crowbar into negotiations. 

“Hold on,” Cody said slowly, as if a great and terrible realization was coming across him. “Why are you helping me? All I do is make your life miserable.”

Obi-Wan looked up from Cody’s formwork, confused. “I thought that was my line.”

“Yes, but I’m the one who makes you mop the floors and gives you radar duty.” Cody was so far deep into confusion that he seemed actively frustrated. “I scold you and I tease you and I do nothing but give you more work. You do nothing but give me more work. That’s our relationship, we just - we just give each other a lot of work and inconvenience each other relentlessly. Why are you helping me with my formwork?”

What? Why was he acting like this was so complicated? 

“You aren't just someone who scolds me all the time,” Obi-Wan said patiently. “You’re a lot more than that. You’re always there for me, no matter how hard things get. You’re, like, obviously the person who cares about me the most. I can tell. No matter how often you give me a hard time, it’s really obvious. So I care about you the most. But don’t tell anybody else that, okay! It’ll be a secret, just between us!”

Cody stared at Obi-Wan, dumbfounded.

“Do you promise?” Obi-Wan insisted. “Promise not to tell anyone that we like each other the best, okay?”

“I don’t know,” Cody said dumbly. “What do I get in return?”

Obi-Wan exhaled gustily. “Fine. I promise to always like you the best, then. Deal?”

“What sort of deal is that?”

“I promise that Marshal Commander Cody will always be my favorite ,” Obi-Wan loudly informed the ceiling. “ Happy now!?”

“Yeah,” Cody said, “uh, I’m happy.”

“Good! You’re a real one, Cody.”

Obi-Wan went back to his formwork, humming and kicking his legs a bit. 

“Wait,” Cody said, abruptly panicking himself for absolutely no reason. “What the hell do you get out of this?”

Obi-Wan raised his head, squinting at him. “Do you get how anything works?”

“I thought I did,” Cody said. “I’m beginning to worry that I didn’t.”

“It’s alright,” Obi-Wan said, happily returning to his formwork. “I'll get dinosaur books later.”

Was this a nightmare?

Was this a nightmare? Obi-Wan’s entire life had been a nightmare, one unending nightmare after another. The good, the bad, the friends and the enemies - sometimes it all felt like one unending stream of joy and heartbreak. Or a flipbook, one image stacked on top of another, a thousand separate images on their own that only burst into movement once they were brushed through at record speed. A children’s toy, easy amusement bought for a few creds at a roadside stall just to keep Obi-Wan entertained on the long march.

Was that what this was? A flipbook?

The ground transport tank wasn’t silent. Rifles shook in their racks, stocks clanging as they bumped up against each other. A rocket launcher hooked onto the back wall rattled against the metal. Armor shifted and sighed. The tank itself screamed, a steady and familiar ever-present background roar that Obi-Wan had learned to tune out a long time ago. Cody tapped on his comm constantly, bucket tilted in the specific gesture that always meant he was sending internal communications to the other troopers.

Reed exhaled heavily, the soft sigh somehow cutting through every other sound. He leaned back against his chair, looking around the room. “Fucking finally, am I right?”

Whoah, some distant and inane part of Obi-Wan’s brain thought. Bad word. 

Three troopers immediately began berating him for a lack of professionalism during such a critical moment. Two other troopers agreed with massive ‘You are so right, vod !’ sentiments. Cody’s hand stopped and flexed in a way that signified clear annoyance, but he kept typing anyway. 

“Quiet in the transport,” Crys snapped, and the tank instantly fell silent. “I know we’re all excited, but the mission’s already begun. Stay focused.”

The 212th were well-disciplined men, and the call for silence rendered them silent. It made Obi-Wan’s thick rasp perfectly audible. 

“What mission …”

Everybody’s heads snapped to him. A great deal of heads snapped to Cody. Even Crys looked at Cody. On Obi-Wan’s other side, Wooley shifted a little nervously. 

Crys turned to Cody. “It’s probably time to debrief him, Marshal Commander.”

In a low voice, Wooley said, “You mean tell him the truth?”

The truth? What truth? This had to have some sort of innocent explanation. It had to.

“He means debrief,” Longshot said firmly. “It’s just a mission, Wooley. Once we debrief the Commander we’ll all understand each other.”

Reed looked at Obi-Wan again, still almost buzzing with excitement. “We’re doing you a favor, Commander. I mean, shit, you wanted this, right? You’re getting what you always wanted.”

“I bet so,” Gearshift said. “Hey, how many times did the Commander say he’d be better off if he wasn’t a jetii ? Must’a been a dozen. Well, we’re all getting what we want today.”

“You’re going to be better off,” Gunner assured Obi-Wan. “Even if it doesn’t feel like it yet. Long term, you’re going to see that you’re better off.”

“What truth ,” Obi-Wan forced out. “What truth, you -”

“Come on, Commander,” Reed said, “you knew all along, right?”

“Quiet in the transport,” Cody said. 

Crys looked at him again, or maybe he hadn’t stopped. He seemed to be keeping an eye on Cody. “The sooner we debrief him the better, Marshal Commander.”

But Wooley just looked at Obi-Wan, white bucket tilted and faceless. For a strange second, the bucket seemed like his own face. “Do you want the truth, Commander?” Obi-Wan jerked his head, biting his tongue harshly in a desperate attempt to push through the haze. “The truth is the lie. And the lie is the truth. Don’t mistake it for anything else.”

“ Vod ,” Gunner said, “why was that so cryptic?”

“Maybe Jinn got to me,” Wooley said, a little self-effacing.

“Ugh,” Gearshift said. “Fucking finally he’s -”

“I know!” Reed said. “Part I’ve been most excited about, honestly -”

There were no windows in the back of the transport, so when they finally rattled to a stop Obi-Wan didn’t know where they were. Obi-Wan didn’t know where in Coruscant this tank was going. He only knew how many bombs it carried. He had counted the crates. Five hundred pulse bombs. 

The hatch ground, squealed, and creaked onto the ground. It landed on what sounded like duracrete with a harsh thump, and everybody unbuckled themselves and stood up in perfect uniformity. Crys made a hand signal, and as Cody silently undid Obi-Wan’s harness everybody began arranging themselves in exit formation and disembarking the transport. The cuffs made undoing the harness awkward. Cody’s hands were shaking much harder this time, but nobody was looking. 

Peel at the back of the line, looked backwards at Obi-Wan. 

“You’re better off without them,” he said.

“Definitely without Jinn,” Reed groused. 

Cody didn’t pull Obi-Wan to his feet until everybody left. Distantly, Obi-Wan heard the sound of blasterfire. The acrid tang of smoke was the only familiar thing left in the transport.

Cody and Obi-Wan stood in front of each other in silence. It felt strange. Obi-Wan and Cody sat together in silence all the time, when they worked on formwork together or just did their own things in Cody’s bunk, but they never just stopped and stared at each other like this. Sometimes Obi-Wan did catch Cody staring at him, so inscrutable yet so lost, but Cody never knew that he saw. 

Obi-Wan’s body felt so strange. The inhale and exhale of his own breaths seemed to control his body, and everything was both buzzing and numb. Obi-Wan was pulling out every trick in the book to call up his battle-calm, but it just wasn’t coming. It wasn’t right. Obi-Wan was always calm in a firefight. He didn’t lose his head, get panicked or scared. How could he, when Cody was right behind him? 

Cody was the one person who had never scared him. He wasn’t like Master, who raged and screamed and always apologized. He wasn’t like Grandmaster, who had drawn away since Master Tahl’s death and left Obi-Wan always terrified that he might disappear forever. When nothing was certain, Cody always was. 

Finally, Cody rattled out a deep breath. He unlatched his bucket, dropping it carelessly on the grated floor, and moved to kneel in front of Obi-Wan again. Nothing like how he used to kneel. He looked as if he was ready for Obi-Wan to execute him, one clean lightsaber through the neck, or as if he was asking for forgiveness in the ancient Mandalorian way. 

Obi-Wan was right. He really did look tired. 

“Obi-Wan,” Cody breathed. He took Obi-Wan’s hands in his own, as if Obi-Wan was a little kid who needed comforting, and squeezed his hands tightly. It was awkward through the cuffs, his hands an unnatural distance apart. “ Cyare . Look at you. You’re perfect. You’ve grown so tall. But I still see that little boy in you. Cyar’ika . You make me feel like a rich man, Obi-Wan.”

To Obi-Wan’s horror, he felt hot tears pricking at his eyes. “Cody, what’s happening?”

“Something that can’t be taken back. We can’t go backwards from here, cyare .” There was pain in Cody’s face, etched long and deep, and Obi-Wan saw that it was the pain that never left his face. It had been there from the start. “It’ll be alright, Obi-Wan. He’s going to take care of you. You’ll be safe, the safest damn kid in Coruscant. My mission is over.” Cody stopped. He couldn’t seem to speak, overcome by emotion. “My mission is over.”

“What mission?” Obi-Wan begged. “Cody, please , what’s happening to us?”

“The mission of you. So you must be brave. Please. If - if only for me. I can’t afford to be selfish right now.” Cody shuddered a deep breath, and despite his words Obi-Wan felt a strong lack of conviction from him.  “Do you remember our conversation a month ago? After that artillery bombardment in Tholoth, while I was patching you up?”

Something cold seized Obi-Wan’s heart. “Of course I remember.” 

“I saw the look in your eyes. I knew what you wanted. I couldn’t admit it, I’m never allowed to admit it - but Obi-Wan, I wanted it too. More than I ever thought I could. Longer than I want to confess.” Cody looked so desperate. What an alien look on such a familiar face. It wasn’t right. “This is our first chance and our last chance. Right here, right now. I’ll make that promise to you if you make it to me. Nobody can know, nobody will ever know. But we’ll know. No matter what happens, you and I will know. I’ll make that promise to you, Obi-Wan, if you make it to me.”

Obi-Wan wanted to wonder what he was talking about. He wanted to have no idea, to be as clueless here as he had been all day, but he wasn’t. Maybe Obi-Wan had seen glimpses of it in Cody, felt it in the bond between them, but Obi-Wan knew what the gaping pit inside of him wanted. 

The pit was wrong. It should never have been there. It should have been full of everything Obi-Wan had already: the love of the Jedi, his community, his lineage, his mentors, his friends, the Force. The Force should have been enough. Obi-Wan shouldn’t have wanted this so badly that he felt empty without it. 

The past three years carved that pit. Maybe it had only widened it. It didn’t matter. It wasn’t anything he could admit. It wasn’t anything Cody could admit either. 

Not before. Something had changed. Maybe Reed was right. Maybe all of this was what he had always wanted. Obi-Wan was getting what he wanted.

Cody cared about Obi-Wan more than anybody else. Not like Master or Grandmaster cared - when it was convenient, or when they remembered he was there, or even when they wanted him there. Cody cared about Obi-Wan when he didn’t want him there. Cody didn’t stop caring about him when he was annoying him or making his life difficult or jumping off cliffs for fun. Cody loved him. He would never hurt him.

Cody would never do anything to hurt him. He would never do anything that wasn’t for Obi-Wan’s own good, to help him. Even when he was strict or unyielding, it was always because he cared.

Cody was doing this because he loved him. Somehow. He had to be doing this because he loved him. 

“Okay,” Obi-Wan whispered, and something in Cody seemed to crack in relief. “I - can’t remember the words, Cody…”

“It’s alright. Just repeat after me.”

Cody spoke the promise in Mando’a, and Obi-Wan shakily repeated after him. What they said was spoken only between them, and nobody else ever heard it. They were words Obi-Wan had heard a long time ago, and was hearing now, and would hear one day in the future. In a strange way, he had always known them. In his dreams and nightmares, Obi-Wan heard them. 

Cody straightened and they pressed their foreheads together, for three warm seconds. Cody’s forehead was slick with sweat. 

Then he straightened, and Obi-Wan saw a familiar strength fill him. It didn’t mask the weakness, not as it usually did - it just coexisted, swirling and fighting and crashing against each other. Obi-Wan didn’t know how to be brave for him. He seemed to need it more than ever, but Obi-Wan didn’t know how.

“Alright,” Cody said. He withdrew Obi-Wan’s lightsaber from his belt, flicking the button and allowing the sky blue blade to hiss into life. “My first act, then. Stand still.”

He grabbed the back of Obi-Wan’s neck, making him freeze, and forced his head still. Then he brought the lightsaber up, directly towards Obi-Wan’s face .

Obi-Wan tried to cringe away, but Cody’s grip tightened and he couldn’t move.

“Don’t move an inch or it’ll burn your face off.”

The hand moved away from his neck, and Obi-Wan forced himself to freeze solid. The bright and hissing blue took up his entire field of vision, and Obi-Wan screwed his eyes tight. He felt a sharp tug at his temple, and he fought to keep his head straight.

A burning smell hit his nose hard, and Obi-Wan instantly recognized it as the stench of burned hair. He heard the buzz of the lightsaber deactivating, and he opened his eyes to see a hand in front of him. It was holding his padawan braid, draped long and limp in his palm. 

“He won’t want you wearing it. You shouldn’t remind him that you were ever once a Jedi.” Obi-Wan didn’t move. “You should take it.”

“What the hell is going on,” Obi-Wan whispered, horrified beyond all measure he thought he could understand. 

“What has always been going on. Nothing’s changed. Welcome to reality.” Cody held out the limp and flaking corpse of the padawan braid. “ Take it.”

But Obi-Wan just shook his head, and he reached out to fold Cody’s fingers over the braid. He pushed it towards him, ignoring his look of surprise. “You earned it.”

Cody stared down at the long braid, expression lost, before slowly tucking it back into his belt. His hand hovered over the lightsaber, and Obi-Wan saw him stop short. Obi-Wan knew that he was hearing Grandmaster’s voice. Your lightsaber is your life. 

But his life had always been in Cody’s hands. 

“Now. Listen to me. Remember this well. You can’t afford to forget it.” Cody grabbed his forearms, squeezing tightly. “You are no longer a Jedi. You’re officially rescued from that damn cult. Your war is over. Mine is not. We part ways here. From here on out, you and I have no relationship. It will only put the both of us in danger. You have to go someplace I cannot follow. That is the way it has to be. Do you understand?”

“I’m sorry,” Obi-Wan said, “ cult ?”

Cody squeezed his forearms, and without the Force the pressure was a little painful. “Yes, cult! You wanted the truth, Obi-Wan? Here is your new truth: the Jedi are traitors, who conspired to coup the government. Anakin Skywalker protected the loyal army and the innocent citizens of Coruscant from the power-hungry Jedi. And, in a great victory , the Chancellor annexed the Separatists and the Council of Neutral Systems into the Republic, creating a great and powerful Empire. Anakin Skywalker was rewarded for his loyalty and you, the innocent Obi-Wan Kenobi, stayed loyal to him until the end!”

“But that’s not true!” Obi-Wan cried. “That’s a lie, they never -”

“Who cares?” Cody said. It wasn’t cold, but - but - “There are people out there who decide what’s true and what isn’t. You aren’t one of those people, so you have to accept the new truth. You don’t have to like it. It will happen whether you like it or not. You just have to follow it. So stay on the winning side, Obi-Wan. This is all I can do for you.”

But it wasn’t the truth. 

That was all Obi-Wan could think as Cody pressed his forehead to Obi-Wan’s one final time. Obi-Wan wanted to pull away, but he was frozen where he stood. It wasn’t true. Cody had lied. He had lied and told Obi-Wan to go along with it. 

“We have to go,” Cody said. “Remember, Obi-Wan. Nobody can know about us.”

They had to go. But Obi-Wan couldn’t move. Cody ended up pulling his bucket back on and towing him outside, one hand pressed firmly on his back as they finally exited the transport. For the first time, Obi-Wan saw where they were invading. 

They were at the Jedi Temple. Obi-Wan fought his shock. They were standing in the giant pavilion in front of the Temple, all beautifully carved ancient duracrete (“It’s called concrete ,” Obi-Wan would snootily inform everyone who didn’t care). It didn’t seem so big now. It was packed with troopers, and Obi-Wan realized with a start that they were all 501st. Protecting Coruscant…protecting Coruscant from…

Master stood in front of the Temple doors, speaking with Captain Nemo. Clone after clone were marching inside the Temple, 501st blue after 501st blue disappearing into the depths. It was as efficient and relentless as any of their military operations. It was a military operation. Master was protecting Coruscant from the Jedi. 

Obi-Wan hadn’t had the presence of mind to wonder if Master was in on this. Maybe they were lying to Master too, fooling or tricking him in some way. Master couldn’t lie to save his life, everybody knew that. He had always been so transparent. To Obi-Wan, he had always made sense. 

Master turned around as Cody and Obi-Wan approached. Hope died.

He didn’t look good. The opposite of Cody - strung out and wired, but as if he was running a desperate fever. His hood obscured most of it, but Obi-Wan could see curls slicked by sweat pasted to his neck. His skin was flushed and hot, sick with the fever, and his eyes were stained a sickly yellow. The yellow seemed to glow from underneath his hood, like hot coals simmering.  

Master brightened when he saw Obi-Wan, waving Captain Nemo off and walking forward. Master always brightened when he saw Obi-Wan, and today his sickly countenance lightened. His main lightsaber was lit by his side, a softly humming blue, and his dark navy blue shoto still hung at his hip. The men marched in neat lines behind him, and he didn’t seem captured or restrained. He was just standing there, lightsaber by his side. 

“Obi-Wan!” Master cheered, an odd cousin of a grin stretching on his face. It wasn’t a grin. It was a monster’s best imitation of a smile. “You took a while to get here. We almost got started without you.”

Somehow, it was the sight of Master that did it, that galvanized him out of his shock. But Master always had a way of making you get up and move. 

“Master!” Obi-Wan screamed. “Master, what is happening !”

Master approached them both, almost bouncing on his heels. He had been strung out with exhaustion the last time Obi-Wan saw him, jerky and distracted and exhausted. He was manic now. “Don’t worry, Obi-Wan. Everything’s going to be okay.”

“ Okay ? Obi-Wan screeched. “What do you think you’re doing !”

“What does it look like I’m doing? I’m saving you.” He stood before Obi-Wan and Cody, practically dripping with sweat. His voice was raspy and tattered, but every word held unshakable conviction. “The Jedi revealed themselves as traitors. They tried to coup the government.”

“ No they didn’t !” Obi-Wan screamed. “They didn’t do that , you’re lying -”

“You just didn’t know,” Master said. Almost soothingly. A monster trying to calm you. A cheap imitation of comfort. “They hid it all from you. They’re the liars. Don’t be scared, the Chancellor and I are here to protect you. Go back to the Twilight, I’ll explain everything later.”

“You’ll explain everything now !” Obi-Wan felt ridiculous screaming his head off in front of the entire 501st, but nobody stopped their march or turned their head. “Why are you lying to me! The men are invading the Temple, we have to stop them -”

“You have to trust me. I’m taking care of it.” Master’s eyes were smoldering yellow coals, burning his words into ash and destruction. “I didn’t see the real enemy before, but I see it now. They were all against us, Obi-Wan. They all hated us. They used us, betrayed us, and treated us like garbage. Not anymore. I’m taking everything that I deserve. That we deserve. Padme and you and the baby. No more secret families. We’re free.”

“The baby,” Obi-Wan said. That word, above all others, was what made his body ring. Everything else just sounded like - like Master, if he was - if he wasn’t right. The baby. The baby. 

“I freed us,” Master said, eyes alight and smile wide and demented, demented, so demented. “We’re free! My baby will be born free!”

The baby. The baby. The baby. 

Master approached him, standing close and towering tall over him, and Obi-Wan could almost feel the heat coursing through his body. He was running hot, unnaturally hot. Master’s body could do things no other body can. It was burning through itself. “I love you, Obi-Wan. I love you so much that I can’t bear it.” He reached out a shaking hand and ran it through Obi-Wan’s hair. It was coated in sweat, overheated with fever. Obi-Wan fought the urge to flinch away. “You’re not like the rest of them. You’re on my side. You and Padme were the only ones who were always on my side. You never abandoned me. Everybody else abandoned me, everyone else fucking leaves, but you don’t leave. You don’t tell me I’m not good enough. You and Padme are the only ones left who never betrayed me. So I’m doing this because I love you. I’m doing it for our family. That’s what you want too.”

Family? Obi-Wan didn’t swear an oath to him. He swore it to Cody.

Maybe it was that thought, hanging desperately in Obi-Wan’s mind. Or maybe it was something else, something that Obi-Wan couldn’t discern without the Force. But Master’s eyes snapped to Cody for the first time, eyes narrowing. 

“Do you have something you want to say, Marshal Commander?”

For the first time - and Obi-Wan realized that it was the first time , that every other time had been a lie - Cody spoke obsequiously. “No, Lord Vader.”

Lord Vader.

That’s the truth, Obi-Wan thought hysterically. That’s the truth that a powerful man decided, the truth that had become reality. Like the clone’s faked loyalty, it was the real truth that Obi-Wan had never seen until it was screamed in his face. 

That man had always been his master. His master had always been that man. His master will be that man forever. The liar had always been Cody. Cody had always been a liar. Cody will be a liar forever. Was, is, will be. Everything that had ever happened to Obi-Wan was always happening. His family had always been who they were. Obi-Wan had been too blinded by love to see it. 

Master stepped away from Obi-Wan and turned to Cody. Almost casually, he said, “You’ve always been really uppity, you know. You’re so full of yourself, just ‘cause you think everyone likes you more than me. Servants shouldn’t believe that they’re better than their masters. But you think you’re better than me, don’t you?”

“No, my lord.”

“Liar,” Master said, easy as anything. “You’re just bowing and scraping now ‘cause I have power. The powerful rule in this galaxy, and the weak like you serve them. If you didn’t want to become a groveling servant you shouldn’t have been weak.”

As always, Master’s mood turned in a moment. He went from smug to snarling with no warning - and there was never a warning, Obi-Wan had looked and looked and never found one. He stepped forward, activating his dark blue shoto with a snap-hiss and twirling it in his hands. 

Despite everything, Obi-Wan didn’t flinch. Master had never hurt him. He’d never even come close. No matter how hot his temper ran, he never turned it on Obi-Wan. 

Cody didn’t flinch either. Obi-Wan couldn’t see his expression under the bucket, but that didn’t matter. He could feel it. Cody just knew there would be no point in resisting. And that it was what Master wanted, and he didn’t want to give him the satisfaction. Tangentially, in the tilt of his head, Obi-Wan could almost clearly see ‘ damn, he’s more unstable than I thought’ . 

Master pressed the shoto against Cody’s neck. The vulcanized rubber of his body glove began to sear, the stench of burned rubber filing the air. 

“You’re still making fun of me!” Master yelled. “Nothing I do is ever good enough! You still think you’re better than me, don’t you!”

Obi-Wan lurched, almost leaping to knock Master aside and protect Cody, but something stopped him short. It was in the rise and fall of Cody’s chest. Don’t move. Remember what I said.

But he’s hurting you, Obi-Wan couldn’t say. I don’t want anyone to hurt you. 

But Cody had told him not to move, so he didn’t move. 

Master just snarled at Cody, raspy and animalistic. His yellow eyes glowed so sickly in the harsh artificial daylight. “Do you know what happened to your general , Cody?” Cody froze just a hair, and Master’s face split into that fanatic grin again. “He was a traitor! Qui-Gon Jinn, Kit Fisto, and Mace Windu tried to assassinate the Chancellor, like the filthy cowards that they are! Filthy, traitorous, cowards ! And I - and I - I helped - I helped the Chancellor k - k - kill them!” Master’s chest gasped and heaved with heavy breaths, frozen tongue tripping over his words. His confession. “What do you think of that, Marshal Commander of the 212th?”

Immediately, Cody said, “Sorry I didn’t get to do it.”

Obi-Wan made a wounded noise.

Master just laughed, high and frantic. Insane. Thoroughly insane. His eyes, his smile, his laugh - Master had fallen so deep into insanity that Obi-Wan couldn’t recognize him anymore. “You see, Obi-Wan? He’s the real monster! He’s always been the monster!” He stepped away from them, turning around to call to his troops.“The Chancellor promised me you’d all be loyal to me, but I’m not seeing much loyalty. Are any more of you having second thoughts?” 

The 501st standing at parade rest behind Master remained stiff and silent. Obi-Wan couldn’t. Everything had always been wrong. Everything was wrong. Everything will be wrong, forever. Nothing will ever be right again. His heart hurt. 

Obi-Wan surged forward, grabbing Master’s overrobe. It was slick with sweat and smelled like dust, but Obi-Wan tugged insistently until Master turned around in mild surprise. 

“Master,” Obi-Wan croaked, and he found to his shame that he was crying. “I’m sorry that you’re hurt. I’m sorry you’re hurt, and - and that I didn’t see it, and I didn’t help. I thought you didn’t care about me. I needed you, and you were never there. Master, please don’t leave me. I still need you.”

Master turned off his shoto, dropping it casually on the ground. He turned around and bent down a little, until he and Obi-Wan were looking each other in the eyes for the first time. He looked at Obi-Wan searchingly, and Obi-Wan knew that he was using the Force to pull him apart. Master always tended to look through you. But sometimes, when you earned his attention, the full power of his focus would permeate every inch of you.

“You’ll be okay,” Master said quietly. “Don’t lose faith in Obi-Wan Kenobi.”

“Master,” Obi-Wan begged, “did you really hurt Grandmaster?”

Master didn’t say anything. He just straightened, reaching out his hand and making a painfully familiar two finger military signal. “Everything’s going to be okay, Obi-Wan.”

“Master, please !”

“Fives, Tup. To me.” 

The two clones broke from formation and stood in front of Master, saluting neatly. “Sir!”

“Take him back to the ship,” Master said. “We’re rendezvousing on Mustafar. Make sure he doesn’t see this. Obi-Wan, follow the soldiers.”

“Yes, my lord!”

“Please don’t leave me, Master!” Obi-Wan cried. “Please, please!”

And Master turned away for the last time, cloak billowing as he followed his men into the heart of the Jedi Temple, leaving Obi-Wan alone. Finally, once and for all, leaving Obi-Wan alone. 

Has been alone. Is alone. Will always be alone.

He felt dizzy. Weak. It was the cuffs, just the cuffs. If he just got the cuffs off, then he’d be fine. He’d be okay. He wouldn’t be scared if they could just get the cuffs off.

On Obi-Wan’s other side, Cody silently stepped forward and picked up the shoto that Master had thrown so carelessly on the ground. The flesh on his neck was a hot red. 

“You alright, sir?” Fives asked him. 

“Just fine,” Cody rasped. He massaged his throat a little, betraying himself. “You heard Lord Vader. Take the young lord back to the ship. I will split the 212th to march towards the Senate.”

“Yes, sir.” Fives looked down, reaching out to put a hand on Obi-Wan’s shoulder. “My lord, let’s -”

Obi-Wan tried jerking away from them, but his back only hit Tup. The endless sorrow pouring into him was falling further and further, and at its very bottom it began boiling. “Don’t touch me.”

Tup gripped Obi-Wan’s forearm, gently pulling him away and forward. “Let’s go, my lord.”

“Don’t fucking touch me, you piece of shit -”

“Permission to sedate him, sir?” Fives asked Cody. In literally any other situation Obi-Wan would have taken that as a sly ‘Obi-Wan’s being particularly loud and annoying today, huh?’ joke.

“Granted, if he’s about to hurt himself.” Cody tossed Master’s shoto at Fives, who caught it easily in midair. “Return that to Lord Vader when he’s completed the mission. You’re dismissed. The 501st and the 212th will reconvene once your mission is over.”

Fives hooked the shoto onto the back of his belt. “Yes, sir.”

Tup pulled a little at Obi-Wan’s arm, trying to guide him away. “Let’s go, my lord.”

But Obi-Wan dug his heels hard onto the cement. The adrenaline coursing through him was keeping him upright, alive and on fire, but his strength still failed him. 

He should have yelled at Master. He should have reached for Cody. That was what he should have done. Obi-Wan didn’t know why he hadn’t - why his heart had broken for his master, and why fury he would have previously found unimaginable was coursing through him at the touch of his friends.

“You want an oath, Cody?” Obi-Wan breathed. Shouted. Screamed. Cried. He didn’t know. He no longer knew who he was. “I’ll give you an oath! I swear to fulfill my duties as a Mandalorian and take revenge on all of you ! I will avenge Qui-Gon Jinn, the man Commander Cody and Anakin Skywalker betrayed and killed ! I will kill Anakin Skywalker and I will kill you, Cody ! You’re dead ! I swear it!”

Both Fives and Tup shifted uncomfortably, but Cody was completely unphased. “I’ll be waiting for you, then.”

“I’ll fucking kill you !”

Blaster bolts echoed from within the Temple. A scream ripped itself from Obi-Wan’s throat. 

“Get him out of here,” Cody said.

They had to pull him away. Kicking and screaming, with every last ounce of strength that Obi-Wan had, they had to pull him away.

Obi-Wan made two promises that day he could never take back. For a very long time, they were the only reality he had.

About that, at least, he had no regrets.

“Are you okay, Grandmaster?”

Qui-Gon Jinn sat alone at his cabin table, holding his head in his hands. A datapad lay on the table before him. It seemed to contain very bad news. Bad enough to make the most venerable Jedi that Obi-Wan had ever known break down. 

“No,” Qui-Gon said, “I’m not.”

Chapter Text

Obi-Wan screamed himself awake.

He kept screaming. He was barely even aware of it. The scream was only an externalization of the terrible chaos rampaging throughout his body, an explosive ventilation of sudden and intense pressure. He felt like he was having a heart attack. 

Doom. Impending doom. Obi-Wan screamed and screamed. In that moment, it seemed very rational. There was no other rational response to what was happening. It was the only thing he could do. He was powerless to do anything but scream.

“Obi-Wan? Obi-Wan, reach out to me.”

A wave of an intimately familiar Force presence washed over him, fighting the crunching glass in Obi-Wan’s own aura, and Obi-Wan grabbed onto the presence like a lifeline. The Force presence of your master was always a tow line back to shore, something steady to hold onto as they brought you back from the overwhelming tides of the Force and onto the surface.

The second before Obi-Wan fully realized that it was his Master crouching in front of him, expression creased in concern and slight panic, the distant yet tangible terror became so intense that it crossed the boundary into pain. 

“Obi-Wan. Padawan, it’s alright, you’re going to be fine. Is my presence too strong? Hold on. Come on, grab my hands.” Two large hands - one soft and warm, the other encased in a thick glove - grabbed Obi-Wan’s own, squeezing lightly. The physical sensation, the reminder of reality - helped. “Breathe in with me. In one, out two.”

They breathed together for a few beats, and Obi-Wan finally managed to swallow the rest of his screams. His face felt raw and flushed, and he was almost lightheaded from screaming for so long without catching a breath. 

Obi-Wan opened his eyes to see Master crouching in front of him, blue eyes creased with worry and frowning lightly. His hair was a wreck and he was only wearing sleeping pants. 

“You had a vision.” It was a statement, not a question. “Your presence is tangled backwards and forwards. And to the side. What did you see?” 

“I saw something terrible,” Obi-Wan said. Horrifically, he instantly began crying again. “It was evil. It felt like - like the entire galaxy turned on me. Like everything wanted to hurt me. Master, it wanted to hurt me!”

Master squeezed his hands again, but the motion sent a wave of nausea rushing through Obi-Wan. He jerked away, pulling away from Master.  “It’s alright, Obi-Wan. The Force is bruised and torn around you. If you and Master meditate on it, then -”

“Commander Kenobi?”

Obi-Wan’s eyes flew open, and he looked over his shoulder to see Cody standing at the doorway. A little behind him, lingering awkwardly, was Master Qui-Gon. His armor was only half-on, and his hair was sticking out in strange angles. Obi-Wan had woken him up - woken everyone up. Master and Grandmaster must have felt the disturbance, but why was Cody…?

“You did the right thing getting me,” Cody told Qui-Gon, before stepping fully into the room. “Commander, did you have a nightmare again?”

Master straightened, looking a little hurt at Obi-Wan’s rebuff. Obi-Wan was fighting the urge to scramble away from him, and he could tell. “The Force intersected with his consciousness at a weird angle. It was definitely some type of vision.”

“A vision? Like of the future?” Cody seemed confused. He looked at Obi-Wan, brow furrowing. “What did you dream about?”

“Like the galaxy wanted to kill me!” Obi-Wan burst out. “Everybody around me had turned on me, everyone I knew had betrayed me, and - and everyone died, everyone I loved!”

“Huh.” Cody looked at Master and Grandmaster, who were looking increasingly confused. “Sounds like a hell of a nightmare. Reminds me of the campaign we had a few months ago. On Ryloth.”

“Where the freedom fighters betrayed us?” Grandmaster stroked his beard, forehead furrowed in thought. “That’s hardly a future event. But Obi-Wan was fairly upset by it.”

Master shook his head, hair flopping around his ears. “It was a Force thing! It’s clear as day to me.”

Cody turned back to Obi-Wan, carefully sitting next to him on the bed. “Everybody around you, huh? Who was around you?”

Who had been around him? The vision hadn’t been so clear. What Obi-Wan wouldn’t give for some specifics. “They felt like…soldiers. Soldiers fighting the enemy, but - suddenly I was the enemy, and…”

“Soldiers, huh?” Cody gave Master and Grandmaster significant looks. “Were they Twi’lek soldiers?”

“I - I don’t…maybe…”

“I’m sure the generals want to return to bed.” Cody nodded at Master and Grandmaster, who were trading uncertain glances. “Us clones only need a few hours of sleep a night. I’ll get him situated. We all have to be well-rested for the battle tomorrow.”

Master pulled at a curly lock of his hair, frowning. “It didn’t feel retrocognitive…”

“Why don’t we let the Marshal Commander take care of this?” Grandmaster told Master. “He’s - ah, a better hand with Obi-Wan than we are. We all need rest for tomorrow.”

Master looked faintly incredulous. “You don’t want to meditate with the coursing waves of the Force or whatever?”

Grandmaster raised an eyebrow. “Have you slept yet?” Master looked at the ceiling. “Is giving a mouse droid rocket thrusters at 0200 hours a good use of your time?”

“The mouse droid thinks so…”

Grandmaster ushered both of them out. Master gave Obi-Wan one last parting look before he left, worried and a little unsettled. There was a glint in his eyes, shining of something beyond five senses. 

The minute they left Obi-Wan started crying again. He couldn’t help it. Master wanted to be calming but he always just wound you up, and Grandmaster would be more calming if he wasn’t so constantly uncomfortable with Obi-Wan’s feelings. But he still wanted them here. He knew his Force presence was tangled and stained, and the presences of his two masters always steadied him. 

“Obi-Wan. Quiet up a little, be strong. Take deep breaths and hold yourself up straight.” Obi-Wan hastily tried to do as he asked, restraining his tears and straightening his back. “Good. Now, tell me exactly what you dreamed about. As much detail as you can.”

Obi-Wan couldn’t help but deflate a little. “It’s - it wasn’t that detailed. My visions are more like feelings, or weird convictions. They’re an echo of something that hasn’t been said yet. But I saw…I felt…” Obi-Wan had to struggle for the words. Like a dream, they were slipping quickly through his fingers. “Like I was on a battlefield. My soldiers were behind me, and we were fighting an enemy. It was fine, just as scary as it always was, but then - everything changed, it was so sudden. The enemy was running away. And my soldiers were shooting at me…”

Cody was silent for a second, thinking something over, before nodding sharply. “Many of my men have bad dreams of things they’ve experienced on the battlefield. Or things that they’re afraid might happen. It’s nothing to be ashamed of.”

“But it wasn’t a dream!” Obi-Wan cried. “I know what a bad dream sounds like! You know I have visions, Cody, I know what they feel like! A regular dream can’t scare me like that.”

Cody leaned back a little, holding up a hand in a ‘none of my business!’ gesture. “I don’t know much about the Force, sir. Us clones have our boots on the ground. Life on the battlefield, fighting for the brother next to you - there just isn’t much time to worry about philosophy and poetry and all of that.”

Oh, man. Philosophy and poetry were so useless. Everybody knew that. The Jedi did waste a ton of their time sitting around debating themselves in circles about obscure philosophers and proof matricies or whatever. But… “You’re right, Cody, obviously. But the Force isn’t just some thing the Jedi made up. It’s real. If you saw what I saw, knew what I knew - you’d feel how real it was too!”

“We all know about how the Jedi worship the Force,” Cody said easily, which - which was one way of thinking about it…true, it was true. “But getting caught up in dreams and nightmares and visions is an excellent way to get distracted on the battlefield. And you know what happens to distracted soldiers?”

“They got shot to pieces,” Obi-Wan said instantly. That had been an elementary lesson in the CC modules. 

“Of course. Worrying over a few dreams is an excellent shortcut to defeat on the field. Are you going to be thinking about some dreams -”

“They aren’t dreams , they’re the actual future -”

Cody gave Obi-Wan a sharp eyebrow for interrupting, and Obi-Wan flushed. “Force dreams. Are you going to be thinking about some Force dreams when you lead your men into a trap? When you get them shot to pieces?”

“Of course not,” Obi-Wan cried, horrified. “I wouldn’t - I don’t care that much about the visions, Cody, I won’t let them hurt the army -”

“They already are. You woke up our generals tonight. Their sleep’s important. Their performance is vital. What if their performance slips?” Obi-Wan’s look must have been horrified, because Cody sighed and squeezed him tightly on the shoulder. “It’s alright, Commander. It’s not your fault. You don’t control your dreams. But we can’t let them control us. I know you can overpower this.”

“Of course I can.” He had no other choice. If it was for his men, Obi-Wan could do anything. He would never let his own weakness, his own inadequacies, harm his men. “I promise I won’t let them bother me. I - I really didn’t mean to wake everybody up tonight…”

“It’s alright, sir. You couldn’t control it. How about this, alright?” Cody squeezed Obi-Wan’s shoulder again, smiling gently at him. “Next time you have a bad dream, just come find me. Get it off your chest and tell me about it. We don’t have to bother the generals.”

“Okay, Cody. I can do that.” Obi-Wan sniffled hard, rubbing at his eye with the heel of his hand. “We closely resonate with each other, though. What if tonight happens again, and they notice…?”

Cody shrugged. “Then just tell them it’s a bad dream and send them off to bed. Nobody’s disturbed. You can tell me all about it, if you like.”

“But what if you aren’t there?” Why was he even here tonight?

Cody stood up, nodding professionally. “I’ll be here. I told General Jinn to always fetch me if there was an issue with you. So let’s handle this one together. You and me.”

“We don’t have to tell Master and Grandmaster,” Obi-Wan swore. “I won’t distract anyone, I promise!”

Cody smiled, and he ruffled his hair. Obi-Wan grinned. All his tears felt forgotten. “Please. You love to be distracting. But let’s save it for the dayshift. Now get back to bed, you have reveille in four hours.”

“Aw, Co dy .”

“Take it up with the bastard god who invented time.”

Obi-Wan didn’t get any sleep that night. But Cody probably hadn’t gotten a lot either, so maybe he deserved it. 

“You’re kidding me. They almost kicked you out? You ?”

Obi-Wan’s eyes flickered between his two cards, agonizing from indecision. Trade or stand? Trade or stand? “There’s more to being a good Jedi than being able to chop up droids. You have to be kind, caring, empathetic…” The men in the circle started snickering. “Hey, we really believe in this stuff!”

“I’m sure they do,” Ringo said diplomatically. “It’s your turn, Commander.”

Obi-Wan finally threw caution to the wind and traded a high value card. He ended up drawing…a low value card. He could still make this work. “I was too angry. I didn’t have the right temperament. I couldn’t control my use of the Force at all. And I’ve never been that kind…”

Ridge scrutinized his cards carefully before trading. “I mean, they used to decommission us for poor performance sometimes. I get it. Still sucks, though. It’s hard to have value that they just don’t see. Sounds like you were just fiery.”

Zeer drew a card, stared at it with an immaculate dejarik face, then swapped it with one from the deck. “All good soldiers have that spark. They just didn’t know what a good soldier you would grow up to be.”

Obi-Wan brightened. “Really? You think I’m a good soldier?”

Tup traded his cards before reaching over and ruffling his hair, making him scowl. “If you keep taking your CC classes and work hard, you can be the best! Don’t worry about what they think about you. People who mind don’t matter and people who matter don’t mind and all of that.”

Fives looked over his hand carefully, expression inscrutable. “They’re the ones dying and you’re alive, so clearly you must be doing something right. Stand.” He finally slapped his cards on the duracrete spaceport floor. “Hit the floor, boys, let’s see what we got.”

Their cards spread out in front of them, and they all carefully scrutinized each other’s hands.

“I lost?” Obi-Wan cried, crushed? “I came in last?”

“I bombed out,” Fives said. “Damn.”

“Same,” Tup said. “Not my lucky day, I guess.”

Obi-Wan looked around the group. “Who won, then?”

He never found out. The air raid siren started blaring, and all of the men had to scramble out from underneath the wing of the starfighter and begin loading into their starfighters or running to man the controls. The cards were left forgotten, and by the time Obi-Wan returned they were gone. 

Another bad feeling came. 

They were beginning to feel more like nausea than the Force. Obi-Wan was sitting with Grandmaster when it happened - actually having a good meditation session for once, where they sat together in companionable silence and experienced a mutual peace. Of course the bad feeling had to ruin it. It poisoned the crystal waters that had enveloped Obi-Wan so calmly, and now Obi-Wan was drowning.

“Padawan. Breathe through it. Feel my presence, reach out to me. Let me show you how to overcome them. The only way out is through.”

Obi-Wan tried. He did. But when he reached out for Grandmaster, the crystal waters of the lake began to boil. Obi-Wan felt his soul blister, his skin sear, and he started screaming again. 

“Someone fetch Commander Cody, immediately -”

The next Obi-Wan knew, Cody was there. Cody was always there. Both of his hands were on Obi-Wan’s shoulders, and when Obi-Wan opened his eyes he saw that they were alone in Qui-Gon’s chambers. They were always so peaceful, covered in frilly green plants and fuzzy ferns. The only natural smell in the ship was the dirt, and sometimes Obi-Wan liked to be in here just to smell it. It was only missing Qui-Gon. 

“Are you back with us, Commander?” Cody asked neutrally.

“Y - yeah. I’m sorry.” Obi-Wan sniffled, rubbing hard at his nose. “Jeez, I’m really sorry, I didn’t mean to…”

“It’s alright. General Jinn was right to call me.” Cody glanced at the door, before casually adding, “I wonder if a Jedi exacerbates it. Creates a feedback loop or something.”

What? Other Jedi always helped a Jedi navigate the Force. Unless the other Jedi was upset and anxious…then they really did just feed into each other…and Obi-Wan’s crying made Grandmaster really uncomfortable… “Does that mean a Force-null would help? Like they would act as a sink?”

Cody stood up, reaching out a hand and helping Obi-Wan rise. “Do you want to find out at the shooting range?”

“ Hell yeah !”

“Language, Commander.”

‘ “Twenty hells yeah!”

“You make me want to give up, Commander.”

Cody didn’t ask what the feeling was about, and Obi-Wan forgot in time. 

“Look! Look at this!” Obi-Wan waved his mission assignment high in the air, practically jumping up and down in excitement. “They want me to travel to Illum and help the initiates pick crystals for their lightsabers! It’s such an honor!”

“Really?” Oz said, squinting carefully at the datapad. “You’re…chaperoning kids collecting rocks?”

“It’s a really important ritual,” Obi-Wan insisted. “It’s a major coming of age point for a young Jedi. This will be their first spiritual experience, probably the closest they’ve ever been to the Force in their lives. It’s always so cool to watch little kids really become Jedi!”

But Jinx just looked troubled. “Illum’s forever away. You’re going to be gone next week?”

Obi-Wan faltered. “It’s just for a few days…”

Oz sighed a little, masking his disappointment. “It’s fine, Jinx. He’s got important Jedi stuff to do. We’ll have to celebrate the Mando solstice without him.”

“What?” Mandalorian solstice? That was next week? The guys had hyped up how great it was for months. There were levels of drunk Obi-Wan had never seen! “I’d miss it?! Is that bad luck?”

“The spirits will understand,” Jinx said, straight faced. 

Off-handedly, Oz mentioned, “Although Mandalorian warrior spirits aren’t really known for being that understanding.”

“No, no way, never mind.” Obi-Wan immediately rejected the mission request, wiping his datapad clean. “Kids get rocks all the time, I’ve never been to a Mandalorian solstice. I am going to drink alcohol !” He also didn’t want to piss of Mandalorian warrior ancestor spirits. Who knew what ancient warrior skills they had.

Oz looked pained, but he was smiling too. “Cody will never allow it.”

Exaggeratedly, Jinx whispered, “Rex will.”

“Just convince him it’s your coming of age ceremony,” Oz said. “You ready to be a real adult, Obi-Wan?”

“If it means I can drink alcohol, sure!”

“Well,” Jinx said, “that’s the important thing.”

“And you must be the Commander Obi-Wan Kenobi I’ve heard so much about!” Bacara said cheerfully, propping his hands on his hips. “Everyone’s tongues are wagging about you, sir. They say that you’re already the fiercest warrior among the padawan commanders.”

Obi-Wan blushed a little, tugging at his robes. Cody’s hand was on his shoulder. He was standing close. “Glad the clones think so, at least…”

“What can I say? Like knows like.” Bacara reached out and slung an arm across Rex’s shoulders, shaking him a little in a classic big brother move. He’d tried to do the same to Cody, but Cody had dodged. Obi-Wan was dazzled. Nobody treated the Marshal Commander and Captain of the 501st so informally. “These two trainers you got aren’t half bad themselves.” Bacara scrubbed Rex on the head before releasing him from his brotherly clutches. Rex looked a little bit as if he’d just survived General Grievous grappling him. “Not half as good as me, of course. Right, Cody?”

Cody squeezed Obi-Wan’s shoulder. His back was tall and straight. It was the kind of respect that Cody rarely showed. Bacara must be cool . “Marshal Commander Bacara’s one of the greatest hand-to-hand combatants in the army, Commander. I’ve learned a lot from him.”

“Only the most important lessons, vod’ika ,” Bacara said, smiling broadly. He leaned in a little, as if whispering to Obi-Wan, and Obi-Wan eagerly leaned in too. His eyes were like Rex’s: bright and wild. “Hey, sir, why don’t I show you a few moves? They’re lethal .”

Obi-Wan gasped in delight. “Really? Nobody ever lets me -”

“ Ori’vod , I don’t think -”

But Bacara was already grabbing Obi-Wan’s shoulder, tugging him lightly away from Cody. Cody’s hand spasmed, then relaxed. “Training a kid into a real Mando’s a group effort, you two. Let your big brother help you out. Nothing wrong with learning a few extra moves to defend yourself with.”

The words ‘real Mando’ had captured him. “ Please , Cody?” Obi-Wan begged. “You’re the one always saying that I need to diversify my training sources! And Marshal Commander Bacara’s so cool !”

Cody’s eye twitched. But he sighed. Obi-Wan pumped the air: the war was won. “I don’t want him bleeding when you bring him back.”

Bacara grinned, turning his back and waving absently at Cody again. Obi-Wan rushed to keep up with him. “If you can’t trust your big brother, who can you trust?”

“Hey,” Obi-Wan said, “about that blood comment -”

“Obi-Wan? Are you alright?”

They were covered in dust and oil. The air was fuzzy and white with smoke, and in the background you could still hear buildings collapsing. Obi-Wan walked through the rubble of the city he had bombed. Trying to draw out the Separatists. 

Where were the Separatists? All he saw was bodies. Battle droids, reduced to fragments. It had been an emergency. They had given the residents time to evacuate. Few hours, maybe. 

It was worth it. Obi-Wan stared at the hollow skeletons of buildings and upturned streets, and thought to himself: it was worth it. It had to be worth it. Because otherwise…

“Obi-Wan, talk to us.” Master poked his head into the front of Obi-Wan’s vision, frowning. “I know this is, like, a lot. We did get the Seppies, though!”

Qui-Gon stepped over the arm of a Super Battle Droid. “And many others.”

“But we did get the Seppies.”

“I wasn’t arguing that, Padawan.” Grandmaster glanced at Obi-Wan, and whatever he saw in his Force signature seemed to alarm him. “Padawan, I feel great distress in you.”

The Jedi were a feedback loop. One upset Jedi could make the other Jedi upset too. Obi-Wan didn’t want to bring down Master’s mood…or make Grandmaster feel worse…

“I’m okay. I’m - I’m fine, really.” Obi-Wan didn’t even try to smile. He knew it would be the opposite of convincing. “Um. I’m going to go march with Ghost company.”

“Obi-Wan -”

But Obi-Wan was already running off, leaping over the dessicated remains of life.

Marching with the men had been a good idea. They were unflappable, like it was just another day.

And Cody let him walk alongside him, which was nice. 

“Looks to me like nobody appreciates you, Commander,” Crys said. 

Wooley smiled, throwing an arm around Obi-Wan’s shoulders. “Hey, but we do!”

“Last time I checked, we seemed to count as nobody.”

“Life under the Republic, I guess.”

“Just ignore them,” Dogma said, sipping his tea. “Seems to me like those jerks are all out to get you.”

“But you aren’t,” Obi-Wan said, distressed beyond any reason he understood. “Right?”

Coric clapped him on the shoulder, shoving dried fruit in his mouth. “Are you kidding? We’re always on your side, Commander.”

“You can’t always say that,” Obi-Wan said lamely. “I do everything wrong. That’s why everyone hates me, it’s ‘cause all I do is mess up. Why would you always be on my side?”

“‘Cause you’re vod ,” Voca said casually, leaning against the table. “ Vod are loyal for life. You ain’t getting rid of us so easy, Commander.”

“Oh,” Obi-Wan said, happy and shining inside. It no longer mattered that everybody hated him, that the natborns were out to get him. So long as someone was on your side, you could get through anything. “That’s okay, then.”

“How many of those Seppie terrorists do you think General Skywalker got today?” Rex asked, easily hosting himself over a giant tree downed over the road. “Forty? Fifty? You’re gonna have to work hard to keep up with him.”

Obi-Wan hurriedly backflipped over the tree. “I bet I got at least thirty guys,” he said anxiously. “You saw me smash a hole through their den! They came pouring out like rats!”

Rex laughed. “Exterminated like ‘em too!”

“I’m just as good as Master,” Obi-Wan said, running to catch up with him. “Just as good! Almost, right?”

“Of course you are,” Rex said, bumping shoulders with Obi-Wan. “You’re a vod of the 501st, and we’re better than anybody else. Hey, think next time we’ll get sixty?”

“Seventy!”

Another nightmare came. 

They didn’t get any less scary. The terror was the same, again and again. Obi-Wan thought he was going to die three times a month at least, he faced down armies of battle droids again and again, he had come face to face with a Sith . Maybe these things used to be scary, but Obi-Wan was fourteen now. Nothing freaked out fourteen year olds. Look at Quinlan, he didn’t give a kriff about anything. 

The nightmares never changed. They were just as scary as the very first time. But Obi-Wan knew that everyone was sick of dealing with them, so he had convinced Master and Grandmaster to just ignore them when he woke up in the middle of the night again. Fourteen year olds did not make three people wake up just for one nightmare, and Obi-Wan had to shape up.

Cody said it was always okay to wake him up. And clones didn’t need that much sleep. And…and Obi-Wan’s soul was really convinced that he was going to die, that one day everybody was going to die, and somehow Obi-Wan ended up knocking at his cabin door at 0100. 

Regret hit instantly. Cody opened the door almost as quickly as regret, blinking down at the sleepy and terrified Obi-Wan wearing his robe over his sleep clothes. Obi-Wan second-guessed all his life decisions. 

“Uh,” Obi-Wan said, “wanna hang out?”

Cody, still wearing his day armor, leaned backwards and obviously looked at the clock. Obi-Wan started sweating.

Then Cody looked back at him, shrugged, and stood aside. “Alright. If you stay quiet, you can stay as long as you like.”

And then Cody let Obi-Wan into his room .

Cody had been inside Obi-Wan’s room over a dozen times, but the other way around felt different. Clones were insanely private people, and although Obi-Wan’s newfound access to the barracks had opened up a world of wonder and mystery, certain people still remained enigmas. Cody was one of them. For somebody who was so dominant in Obi-Wan’s life, he didn’t actually know a lot about him.

The cabin didn’t help. It was completely bare, with one trunk at the end of his bed containing his personal belongings and identifications. It was the same trunk every clone had, probably with the same personal belongings and identifications. Obi-Wan couldn’t help but be a little disappointed. He was at least hoping for wall-mounted heads of vanquished enemies. What he deserved for thinking Cody might have a personality. 

The reason why Cody was still wearing his armor became quickly evident. His small desk bolted to the wall was piled high with formwork, and the softly glowing white lamp evidenced how Obi-Wan had interrupted him in the middle of his midnight formwork. 

Obi-Wan squinted judgmentally at Cody. Cody refused to be ashamed. Obi-Wan squinted further, insinuating that shame was the only appropriate emotion to feel when you were up at 0100 doing formwork. Cody abruptly looked very frightened. 

“When did you get so good at that?”

“I pick up some stuff, you know.” Never would Obi-Wan ever admit how much. He shucked his robe and carefully hung it up on a peg next to Cody’s bucket, bouncing over and depositing himself on Cody’s cot. He’d never seen such neat corners. “Can I help you with your formwork?”

“I have it handled. Take the cot and get some rest.”

Obi-Wan looked dubiously at Cody. “Then where are you going to sleep?”

“I already slept.”

“You liar.”

“I only lie if it’s important.” Cody sat down at his desk, swiveling the stool back and re-asserting his focus over the formwork. He picked up a stylus, only to halt hard. “Do you…want to talk about it?”

What was there to say? It was just the usual. Death, destruction, a million voices crying out in pain before being silenced. It wasn’t anything Cody hadn’t heard before. That Obi-Wan hadn’t felt before. Yet Obi-Wan still couldn’t beat it. 

“Don’t take any vacations to Ryloth,” Obi-Wan said wisely.

“I don’t take vacations.”

“You’re fine, then.”

“Go to bed.”

Obi-Wan embraced the slightly surreal experience of snuggling under Cody’s thin blanket and tightly fitted sheets. Cody turned the lamp low, leaving a single dim star shining in the cabin’s darkness, and soon Obi-Wan heard nothing but the omnipresent hum of the ship’s atmo control and the creaking of Cody’s stool. 

“...Cody?”

Cody spoke without looking up from his work, implying his complete lack of faith that Obi-Wan would stay quiet. Harsh but fair. “Yes, Commander?”

“I seem pretty stupid, right?”

Cody continued signing the formwork, completely unphased. “Not at all. The future’s a scary place.”

Obi-Wan pulled the thin blanket higher, trying to bundle up in it. It was such a thin and scratchy blanket. He was literally a Marshal Commander, why didn’t he have nicer blankets? Obi-Wan had a soft and fluffy one brought over from the Temple. Maybe he’d actually visit the Temple again next time they were on Coruscant - requisition a spare blanket for the war effort. 

“Are you scared of it?”

A little wryly, he said, “I’ve been reliably informed that I’m not afraid of anything.”

Obi-Wan would absolutely believe that, but Cody didn't sound as if he did. “Then what are you scared of?”

Without pausing, almost absentmindedly, Cody said, “Something happening to you.”

Oh. Wow. Obi-Wan pulled the blanket up higher, close to his ears. “Really?”

For the first time, Cody halted. He looked up, staring at the wall. Obi-Wan couldn’t see his expression, but he spoke slowly and strangely. As if he was surprised, or had come to a belated realization. “I…suppose so.” 

Alright, Obi-Wan had to feel guilty now. He had really thought that Cody scolded him for doing dangerous things because it was against regs. “Sorry for jumping off a cliff with that rocketpack Rex stole.”

Cody leaned back a little, running his hands through his hair. He didn’t turn around, and Obi-Wan had a hard time reading his microexpressions. The dim light cast him in a strange glow, a shadow against the dark. “I - remember that. I remember watching you jump off that cliff. I didn’t even see the pack. I just saw you, and…I’d never felt like that before.”

“Felt like what?”

“Petrified,” Cody said distantly. “Like my galaxy was in its last second before neutron collapse. I think I’m scared of that feeling too.”

“I promise not to jump off any more cliffs,” Obi-Wan said, truly distressed. “No more cliff-jumping for me, I swear .”

Cody just huffed a silent laugh. He bent back down over his formwork, but his heart clearly wasn’t in it. “Maybe I’m just scared of you, Commander.”

“What? Me! I’m not exactly going to turn Sith and start commanding a droid army, you know.”

“Goodnight, Commander.”

Obi-Wan didn’t say anything.

He quickly slid off the bed, trotted over to Cody, and gave him a very tight and very awkward hug from behind. Cody froze. Obi-Wan released him, trotted back to bed, and slipped back underneath the covers.

“Goodnight, Cody.”

The clone with the long tattoo leaned in, breath hot and thick with whiskey, as the neon lights blistered high above them.

“Obi-Wan,” the clone breathed, “don’t trust anybody who says that they love you.”

“What are you talking about?” Stone asked, genuinely confused. “Fox doesn’t hate anybody.”

Obi-Wan sighed, resting his chin on the break room desk. His datapad with their book club book for the month was left abandoned at his side. “Guess he just never met me yet. I’m fantastic at making people hate me. Look at the entire Jedi Temple. It’s whatever. I don’t need ‘em, anyway.”

But Stone just frowned. “No, I mean that he is literally incapable of hating anybody. It’s one of the many emotions that he just doesn’t have. Senators annoy him and he thinks natborns are stupid, but actually hating them? I doubt you were more annoying than a senator.”

Dumbly, Obi-Wan said, “But Cody said so?”

Stone looked at him for one second, then two, before shaking his head. “Sure. Hey, don’t you think that Izzy Seenit definitely deserved better than Dr. Marcie?”

“ I know !”

“Go to sleep, Commander.”

“You said that you’d finally tell me the myth of the first beskar’gam !” Obi-Wan threatened. Cody halted, hand hovering over the switch for the lamp. “After you rescued me from the tank bombardment, you were very clear !”

Cody sighed, hand falling. “One more, then.”

A splash of water splattered across Obi-Wan’s face. 

The sun was bright and hot, shining onto the crystal blue water and illuminating schools of small fishes swimming underneath. There might have been a thousand of them, slight and quick and the size of Obi-Wan’s little finger. There were exhausted knots in Obi-Wan’s muscles, but the cool water soothed them. The smack of cold water in his face was less welcome.

Quinlan pointed and laughed at him, perfectly white and straight teeth flashing in the hot sun. “Fish got in your hair! Hey, open your mouth and let me try again!”

“Humans can’t eat fish raw!” Obi-Wan screeched. He kicked water back at Quinlan, who effortlessly divested any errant fish away from him. “C’mere, let’s see how many fish can fit in your hair!”

“Don’t you dare , this takes hours -”

On the beach by them, Bly and Cody were partaking in a shockingly rare activity known as relaxing. Obi-Wan wasn’t sure why Cody had left for the splinter mission instead of Rex - something about a lost bet?

On the cliff above them, Master and Knight Aayla were hard at work repairing their broken shuttle.  Knight Aayla and Quinlan seemed shocked that one mission could go so wrong. Master and Obi-Wan hadn’t even noticed that anything had gone wrong. Their criteria for KUBAR was way higher than Aayla and Quinlan’s. Quinlan was already enthusiastically begging Knight Aayla to take them on more joint missions. Bly was also cheerfully pleading with her, since apparently he enjoyed working with Cody and ‘annoying him all day - it’s like being cadets again!’. Master and Knight Aayla weren’t protesting - they were childhood friends too. 

“This should happen all the time,” Obi-Wan told Quinlan, giving him temporary relief from Obi-Wan’s endeavors to drown him. “The 501st and the 327th can be the hot new match-up. We’re all actually friends. I almost never get to work with other padawan commanders.” Their missions were ‘too dangerous for padawans’ or whatever. Master said that children did more dangerous things than active warfare all the time, so it wasn’t a big deal. 

“What if I want to see you outside of work?” Quinlan complained. He shoved a wave of water at Obi-Wan, who nimbly dodged and made a grab for his ankles. “I haven’t seen you in months. Our schedules never line up, and even when they do you’re barely at the Temple!”

“Take it up with the Seppies,” Obi-Wan said, unimpressed. But Quinlan looked pretty serious, so he just sighed. “Next time I’m on Coruscant I’ll drop by the Temple, okay? We can hang.”

Quinlan gave him a strange look. “Drop by the Temple? Don’t you sleep there?”

Uh oh. Visions of Cody scolding him flashed through his mind. He wasn’t even supposed to tell other clones about the barracks. Much less natborns . The Jedi were so uptight about that stuff.  “I stay on the ship a lot.”

The look grew stranger. “You’re supposed to stay in the Temple when we’re on Coruscant. The Jedi Guard troopers, like, notice if we’re running in and out.”

“They let me do it,” Obi-Wan bragged. Granted, it was through judicious use of bribery, but they still let him do it! “I’m not like the rest of the Jedi, I’m special. That’s why I do all the crime I want.”

“You can do crime any time,” Quinlan complained. “If you were at the Temple more often maybe we’d actually see you.”

“The Temple cramps my style! But I miss you too, okay? You’re still cool, so we have to hang more. Like we used to.” Obi-Wan lightly punched him on the arm, grinning. “We’re still best friends, right?”

“Brothers forever!” Quinlan said loyally, before trying to tackle him into the water.

From a distant shore, Cody yelled, “Commander, stay out of the deep end!”

“Where’s Grandmaster?” Obi-Wan asked. “Isn’t he supposed to eat dinner with us today?”

Master sighed, eyes a little pinched. It made him look very grown-up. “Master’s taking some alone time today, Obi-Wan. Let’s eat together, alright?”

“Grandmaster’s been taking a lot of alone time.”

“It’s not our fault,” Master said, and he seemed just a little as if he was saying it to himself too. “Things have been hard for him. I mean, they’ve been hard for a while, but Tahl’s death really…he just needs some space, alright?”

“Sure,” Obi-Wan said. “Some space.”

Master put a hand on Obi-Wan’s shoulder. “I’m sorry about Siri, Obi-Wan. You guys were friends, weren’t you?”

A finger flicked him on the forehead. A fair skinned human girl with a round face and light blue eyes laughed at him, russet gold pigtail swinging. “You’ll never catch up to me, Obi-Wan!”

“Guess so,” Obi-Wan said.

“Wake up, Commander, it’s time for reveille.”

Obi-Wan groaned, pulling the thin blanket up higher. “Five more minutes…”

“What is wrong with me?” Cody asked, deeply confused and slightly frustrated with himself - as if he no longer understood himself at all. “Why do I let you stay up so late?”

“‘Cause you love me.” Obi-Wan yawned widely, snuggling deeper into the bed. “Duh.”

He got ten more minutes. 

Rex dived for him, and Obi-Wan easily evaded.

It was like he was moving in slow motion. Obi-Wan flipped over his head, boots brushing Rex’s bald scalp, and landed whisper-soft on the ground behind him. Rex halted hard, already turning around to re-orient his attack, but his guard was down. Obi-Wan pushed off the ground and slipped underneath the hole in his guard, tackling Rex around the waist with incredible force and grappling both of them to the floor. 

Rex attempted to break the grapple by jabbing at his knee, but Obi-Wan smoothly evaded him. Rex followed up the counter by squirming around and trying to counter-grapple Obi-Wan, and eventually they were locked in an outright contest of strength and precise force.

Obi-Wan closed his eyes and breathed. He followed the thread of the universe, and let gravity dictate his direction. He shifted his grip until he hit the exact correct thread of muscle in the exact correct angle, and Rex’s grip faltered. With the strength of the Force, Obi-Wan slammed Rex onto the mat. 

“Got you!” Obi-Wan cried, victory flooding through him. “Obi-Wan parjii ! Parjai ’s mine, vod !”

Bored, Kix said, “Wait for it.”

“Wait for -”

Stars spun in Obi-Wan’s vision, and he flew through the air. Obi-Wan outright crashed onto one of the spectator bleachers, almost decapitating Echo. Fives sipped from his water bottle, impressed.

Rex rolled to his feet, growling. There was a heavy bruise under one eye, but Obi-Wan could tell that his blood was boiling with the passion of a fight. “Sorry, vod . Out of bounds. You lose this one again.”

Unimpressed, Obi-Wan thrust out a hand, Force pushing Rex out of the ring and smashing him into the bleachers on the opposite side of the ring. Almost decapitating Kix. 

“Oh,” Fives said, rescrewing his water bottle. Echo quickly ducked underneath the bleachers. “Now everyone’s really in for it.”

“Best two out of three!” Obi-Wan and Rex yelled, and they jumped back into the ring.

“ - can sit with him.”

“That’s not necessary, General.” Cody’s voice was thin and tight. To Obi-Wan, it sounded incredibly tired. And… “Your attention would be better spent tracing where Count Dooku escaped to.”

“Maybe so,” Grandmaster said, voice even and steady, “but the Force tells me that I would be best placed at my grandpadawan’s side. He almost died.”

“Yes,” Cody said, “he did.”

The air smelled like bacta and disinfectant, and a distant beeping echoed in Obi-Wan’s ears. He knew he was in the infirmary. He could feel a strong yet muted Force presence near him - Grandmaster - and the familiar rock in the Force that had to be Cody. There were a lot of those Force rocks around him - in infirmary beds, likely, but also sitting next to the beds or moving between them on medic rotation. 

Something else was spread strangely through the Force. It felt like attention. Like the eyes of many. Dozens of pairs of eyes, the combined force of a legion of attention, fixed on…

“Do you blame me for this, Marshal Commander?”

Grandmaster never asked questions he didn’t know the answer to. He was so muted and solitary in the Force that Obi-Wan couldn’t read him. And a really bad feeling was building in Obi-Wan’s chest. 

“It’s not in the nature of a clone to nurture sentiments like that, General,” Cody said, hard and clipped. “We focus on the enemy. My recommendation is that you focus on the enemy and prevent his escape.”

“He’s already gone.” Grandmaster sounded tired, words sagging with age, but there was an odd glint of sharpness to him as well. It was difficult to tell. The bad feeling was growing. “I’d only be chasing a ghost. Nothing out of the ordinary, but for once I thought I might focus on the living.”

“We have this in hand, General,” Cody said. “Leave it to your marshal commander.”

Thin silence stretched over the background hum of machines and whirring of droids. Far away, footsteps marched down the halls. And Obi-Wan’s bad feeling grew. 

“How interesting.” Grandmaster’s voice was quiet and mild, but Obi-Wan recognized the tone well. It wasn’t a tone he used with friends. “You clones are very difficult to read, you know. You could tell me the grandest lie of all time and I would be forced to believe it. But somehow I can’t help the feeling that you don’t like me very much, Marshal Commander.”

The bad feeling rose like a wave. 

“My men are dismissed.”

The assorted soldiers filed out in a soft march of footsteps, and it was only after the last soldier left that Cody sighed. It was a more human, tired sigh - the kind he didn’t pull out with Grandmaster very often. 

“Sit down, General.” A chair skidded on the polished tile, and silence persisted for a few seconds before Cody spoke again. His voice was tired but sincere, and tinged with a speck of remorse. “I apologize for the unintentional disrespect.”

“What about the intentional disrespect?” Grandmaster asked, tired voice just a little amused. “Don’t apologize for that, you’ll take all the fun out of it.”

“General.”

“Marshal Commander Cody.”

“General Jinn.” Cody sighed, but when he spoke again his voice was just a little less stiff and formal. “Sir, I’ve been worried about you.”

Grandmaster sighed. “Yes, you’re the fourth person to tell me so. At this rate my old master will pause trying to kill me to start inquiring after my health.”

“Which is evidence of the problem, isn’t it? That everybody’s noticed?” Cody spoke pointedly and forcefully, like a hammer drilling into a nail again and again. “You weren’t built for this war. You’re a…different sort of Jedi, General, for a different time. You take the deaths of my men so personally. Fighting against your own family has always been difficult for you. Frankly, sir, General Tahl’s death was the last shot in the pack. You’re running on empty.” 

Exhaustedly, Grandmaster said, “You sound like Mace.” A pause. “My, that offended you.”

“I thought Ponds was making fun of me when he - never mind. General, we’re all worried about you. This hasn’t compromised your performance in the field yet, but it’s only a matter of time.”

“It will not compromise my performance in the field, Marshal Commander. I’ve prioritized that above all else. It is only compromising my performance as everything else.” Grandmaster’s voice softened a little, falling into that familiar self-hating lilt. “As a Jedi, yes. The Force is so closed that I can no longer see my hand in front of my face. I’ve lost myself in my own self-centered nature. But I’ve compromised my performance as a master and grandmaster most of all.”

“It’s too much,” Cody said firmly. “You’ve taken on too much. You’re expecting perfection of yourself, and you aren’t forgiving yourself when you inevitably fail. We’ve already discussed this. You have enough to worry about. Allow me to worry about Obi-Wan.”

“Yes, we have. And I’m grateful for your help with Obi-Wan, truly. But don’t you have enough on your plate as well? You’re twice as busy as I am, Marshal Commander. You’re asking me to off-load my own responsibilities onto you -”

“Obi-Wan is not a responsibility,” Cody said, and for the first time Obi-Wan caught the faint tinge of Cody’s real frustration. “Obi-Wan is not an obligation to me. I understand that he’s a very difficult boy to a non-clone, but us clones are engineered to accommodate that. We’re patient and resilient in a way that you can’t be. It’s not your fault, General. You’re only human. Just let us handle him.”

“And is that why you resent me, Cody?” Grandmaster asked. “Because I’m only human?” 

“If I resent you, sir,” Cody said, “then it’s because I am sourced from a human as well.”

“And why would this human part of you resent me, then?”

“Well, sir, you enjoy pissing people off.”

“Ah, it’s part of my natural Jedi charm.”

“You say things like that as well, sir.”

“Come now, Marshal Commander Cody, surely you must have a unique reason for your ire.”

“Maybe it’s because Obi-Wan used to ask me why you never trained with him,” Cody said, “and now he doesn’t ask at all.”

Silence fell between them. A few more seconds passed before Grandmaster spoke again, low and bitter. “So it’s too late to repair that as well.”

“You have enough on your plate, General,” Cody said. “Let me handle him for now. I’m sure you two will be able to reconcile once the war is over and he’s older. He’ll understand then.”

“The only one of us who sees what lies beyond this war is Obi-Wan,” Grandmaster said, chair skidding against the tile as he stood up, “and all he ever seems to see is fear.”

“I’ll let you know when he wakes, General.”

“Thank you, Marshal Commander.” Footsteps echoed, then paused. After a long second, Grandmaster said, “I can’t help but wonder as to the true reason for your dislike. Ah, well. I’ll figure it out soon enough.” 

“Have fun on your hunt, General.”

“I thought you might say something like that.” Grandmaster sighed. “Anakin’s not going to be happy to hear about this…”

The world faded, and the bad feeling stayed.

Obi-Wan didn’t open his eyes until much later, long after the sound of footsteps faded and the smell of antiseptic rose. He knew what he would open his eyes to see. He always saw the same thing. 

It was Cody, sitting at his bedside with his head down and mouth drawn tight as he worked on his formwork. The infirmary must have been on its night rotation, because the lights were dim and the room was quiet. 

Obi-Wan lay there for a few breaths, watching Cody work. There was something comforting about it. He’d sat and watched Cody work so many times over the past few years. In a galaxy utterly without stability, without safety or home, watching Cody do formwork was the closest he had. 

As always, Cody’s own sixth sense alerted him to Obi-Wan’s presence. He looked up, and when he saw Obi-Wan watching his face untensed in a strange relief. He set his formwork to the side, leaning forward to prop his elbows on the bed and take Obi-Wan’s hand in his own. 

“Hey, ad ,” Cody said lowly. “You gave us a scare.” Obi-Wan struggled to say something, but he just coughed. Cody already had a bottle of water in his hand, and he held up the straw so Obi-Wan could drink. “You were in bacta for a while, and you were out cold for a while after that. That's what happens when you go up against Dooku by yourself.” Obi-Wan let the straw fall out of his mouth, shooting Cody a weak glare. “Yes, I understand it wasn’t on purpose. That’s why you’re not on radar duty already.”

Obi-Wan swallowed hard, flexing his hand, and Cody grabbed it again. His heart was beating sluggishly in his chest, fighting to keep a Force presence and a sad sigh close to his mind. “Cody…I have a bad -”

“You almost died,” Cody said harshly, and the rest of Obi-Wan’s sentence died. Cody really did look stressed. Close to haggard. “You almost let that temporary apprentice kill you. Don’t do it again. Don’t you dare - don’t - why can’t you just stay safe, Obi-Wan?”

Obi-Wan slotted him a wry look. 

“I know, I know. Damn it.” Cody exhaled heavily, dropping his head. He clutched onto Obi-Wan’s hand for dear life, his large hands slotting into Obi-Wan’s growing ones easily. They matched in callouses. “This won’t happen again, Obi-Wan. I swear. I won’t let this happen again.”

Obi-Wan swallowed. He squeezed Cody’s hand, forcing himself to speak. “How long was I out?”

Cody sighed, looking up. “I’m sorry. You missed it.” Obi-Wan’s face fell, and Cody smiled thinly. “Happy Birthday, Ob’ika . You’re fifteen.”

In that moment, Obi-Wan couldn’t even be happy about it. They had a party planned, Cody said that he was finally going to teach Obi-Wan how to use a jetpack, Master said Obi-Wan would be old enough to use the highly dangerous Jar’Kai form, but Obi-Wan wasn’t happy at all.

He could only think about living another fifteen years. How tiring it would be. Living for fifteen years already seemed so improbable, as if he’d cheated death itself half a dozen times, and his odds only seemed to be getting worse. In the upcoming year, in the long stretch of war and death and hard struggle that lay between fifteen and sixteen - Obi-Wan saw no joy in it. No hope.

His feelings must have been clear. Cody’s expression softened in sadness, and he leaned forward to press his forehead against Obi-Wan’s. Obi-Wan returned the gesture, letting the contact give him a modicum of peace in the rising course of dread.

“ Briikase gote'tuur , ad ,” Cody said, and it was enough in that moment. 

“I was just telling him the truth,” Obi-Wan bitched, pulling his robe tighter around his shoulders. He was feeling strangely cold. “I’ve never met a clone that sensitive before. What’s wrong with celebrating a victory? It’s like he’s mad that we won!”

Rex sighed, equally disappointed and frustrated. “Ignore Boba. Prime spoiled him growing up. Sheltered, you know? He doesn’t know anything about the real galaxy.”

Bow leaned in, whispering loudly. “He’s the baby .”

Coric just shrugged. “What happens when there’s no one left to coddle you, I guess.”

Obi-Wan stood up, letting his robe drop. He still had some sweets back in his tent.

Rubble crunched under their feet.

The home was a bombed-out shell. A small hewn wood dining table was split in two, and the ground was littered with shattered ceramics and cutlery. The bodies of a mother and child were crumpled in a corner. A large support beam had fallen on the mother’s body, breaking it instantly, and the trapped child had perished soon after. Hanging in the air above them, a militia member choked. 

“Where is your general!” Master shouted, hand cupped in the air as if he was exerting pressure on anything but empty space. “Where’s that damn traitor general of yours, you coward!”

The soldier choked, legs kicking in the air. His fair face was turning purple.

Standing next to Obi-Wan, Rex casually called, “He might need some air to answer that, General.”

Master threw him onto the ground, making him cry in pain, before releasing his throat. Master stalked forward, head bent over the prone soldier. Obi-Wan couldn’t see his face. “Well? Tell me the location of that piece of shit general of yours. The one that threw in with the Separatists and betrayed your own people!”

The militia man gasped, chest heaving, but he didn’t say anything. 

Master twisted his hand, and the militia man screamed in pain. “Tell me!”

Rex whistled lowly. His body microexpressions just said that he was impressed. “Our general’s a strong leader, eh?”

Then he glanced over at Obi-Wan. He saw something that froze him. 

“You have one last chance to talk,” Master said, curly hair falling over his handsome face as he looked down on the man gasping for breath. “Tell me where your general is or you won’t live to regret what you did to these people.”

The militia man turned his head, looking straight at Master, and for the first time Obi-Wan saw his watery blue eyes. “Die, Republic scum.”

“Wrong answer,” Master said, twisting his fist.

The man’s neck snapped, and his body fell limp. 

Master turned around and walked away, blue rising into his eyes. His expression was hard and cold, but his hot fury still simmered under the surface. “Come on, guys. We have the real bad guys to catch.”

“Yes, sir!” Rex said cheerfully, peeling away from Obi-Wan to fall in at Master’s elbow. “That was a cool showing, sir. You took a real hard stance against that traitor. I bet this planet’s going to think twice before messing with the Republic again, huh?”

“Obviously,” Master said, cool and cocky. “We aren’t the fighting 501st for nothing. Let’s see if another Republic planet allies with the Separatists again after this .”

“ Badass , sir!”

Master laughed. “You were badass too, Rex!”

“Obviously, sir, but not nearly as much as you -”

It took Obi-Wan a few seconds to follow them. But he did, after a while.

“What happens in the 501st stays in the 501st,” Rex said, grinning and elbowing Obi-Wan. Obi-Wan couldn’t smile back. “We’re hot blooded guys! Everyone knows that. It’s why we have an unbeaten win record. So let’s not argue with results, huh?”

“Results?” Obi-Wan asked weakly. “But that was tort -”

“It was interrogation. Sometimes you gotta do emergency tactics like that in the middle of a fight, you know that. That’s just how war is. Any soldier knows that.”

“Yeah, but using the Force to murder people is really dang -”

“Is that what you want?” Rex asked, eyebrows furrowed in concern. Even a little betrayal. “Are you going to rat him out to the Jedi?”

“What? No, of course not -”

“The last thing those jerks need is more ammunition on him. Are you seriously thinking about ratting on your master over - what, a little hotbloodedness?”

“Of course not!” Obi-Wan said forcefully. Rex relaxed, shoulders untensing. “I’ll never tell anyone, you know that! I’m just worried about him!” 

“Oh.” Rex’s eyes darted to the side, and a microexpression that Obi-Wan couldn’t read flashed across his face. “I’m sure he’ll be just fine. Just - yup, he’ll be just fine.”

And maybe Obi-Wan would have believed him, if it wasn’t for the sinking in his gut.

A vase smashed against the wall.

“They’re looking down on us! They’re all looking down on us!” A caff table skittered against the ground, beautiful antique wrought metal scratching the hardwood. “And they’re going to keep sending us out to die, killing our men , because they look at us and see garbage !”

Master turned around, grabbing a small statue of some deity off a thin pedestal. He was facing Obi-Wan, but Obi-Wan knew that he wasn’t really seeing him. “They’re trying to control us! Fuck them, fuck those arrogant fucking -”

Master halted, chest heaving, before his eyes snapped to Obi-Wan with surprise. Obi-Wan didn’t know what surprised him, but something did. 

He guiltily replaced the small statue on the pedestal before walking over to Obi-Wan. He brushed some plaster dust off Obi-Wan’s shoulder, biting one lip, before awkwardly squeezing the shoulder. 

“Can we tell Padme that we thought it would be a good idea to spar in her apartment?” Master asked, wincing a little. “I don’t want her to worry…”

“Sure,” Obi-Wan said. “I got you, Master.”

Master grinned, bright and boyish. “I can always count on you, Obi-Wan!”

Chapter Text

One day, in the midst of Obi-Wan’s fifteenth year of life, he woke up with the conviction that something terrible was going to happen, and the feeling never left.

He had grown used to that feeling. It had come more and more frequently over the past three years, and he had long since stopped telling people or making a big deal of it. What was he supposed to say? ‘Oh, Master, I think we’re going to be put in a near-death situation sometime next week?’. Nobody gave a shit. Magical feelings of omnipresent doom weren’t that impressive when literally everybody had them. When the doom was omnipresent. 

But this was different. This was really different. Obi-Wan wasn’t just certain that something dangerous or awful was going to happen - he felt as if there was some great catastrophe on the horizon.

It wasn’t just any great catastrophe. He hadn’t even felt this way when the Wolfpack was decimated. It was far closer, far more personal - but far more galactic, too, almost historical. Whatever was about to go wrong - it made Obi-Wan feel as if he’d be better off dead than experiencing it. 

Like he was supposed to, Obi-Wan went to Cody first. He told Cody all about it, in as much detail as he could. Cody sat and listened, nodding at the right moments, even letting him interrupt his campaign planning conference with Crys and Wooley. 

“We are all going to die,” Obi-Wan cried, because he couldn’t think of any other way to say it. “Everybody is going to die. Everything’s gonna be gone, Cody.”

Cody looked at him for a second, two. Then he looked at Wooley and Crys, who were unreadable. Finally, Cody looked back at Obi-Wan and said, “That’s a little extreme, don’t you think?”

“Ah,” Obi-Wan said. “I…guess.”

Cody shrugged, turning back to his meeting. “Let’s keep an ear out for any genocides. The Separatists are probably planning another large attack on an innocent planet. You’re probably seeing another planet’s demise.”

“Again,” Crys contributed. 

But Obi-Wan could only shake his head, long padawan braid swinging. “It felt different the other times. It’s not some other guy’s genocide, Cody! It’s - it feels like ours!”

The three clones looked at each other. 

“Trust me,” Cody said, “it’s not yours. Go focus on your work.”

“But Cody -”

“Now.”

Obi-Wan went. 

“Grandmaster, I have a bad feeling -”

Grandmaster didn’t turn around, attention focused on his wall of plants. “Have you spoken to Cody about it?”

“Yes, obviously, but he just brushed me off.” Like he always did . Obi-Wan was surprised that he didn’t insist it was ‘just some nightmare’, like he always did . “I need your help on this one. Can’t you meditate with me? Maybe if I try and share it with you, then you can see what I mean - it’s really different from usual, Grandmaster, you have to believe me.”

Grandmaster sighed, watering can falling. He didn’t turn around. “Is there anything that we can do about it, padawan?”

And Obi-Wan didn’t know. 

“Then let’s just focus on what we can do something about,” Grandmaster said. “You’ll lose hope if you keep chasing these impossible fights.” 

“You and your bad feelings, Obi-Wan,” Master sneered. Behind him, Rex rolled his eyes. “You’ve started jumping at shadows all day. Just focus on the fight in front of you.”

“Master, please,” Obi-Wan begged. He didn’t know why he was begging. He didn’t know why he felt so desperate. “The Force is trying to tell me something.”

“You’re leading yourself astray,” Master said impatiently. Rex nodded. “You think that you’re seeing the Force, but you’re just seeing your own hesitation. The Jedi brainwashing is clouding your vision. Listen to the people who know better and stop stressing out over nothing.”

“You don’t know better than a dead womp rat!” Obi-Wan snapped, and he stalked away.

“Obi-Wan, wait!”

Obi-Wan stopped and turned around. It was Rex, panting a little in his rush to catch up to him. Obi-Wan scowled, but Rex just winced a little and stopped. 

“I’m not apologizing to Master,” Obi-Wan snapped. “I’m sick of his shit attitude lately.”

“That’s not it.” Rex exhaled, straightening. He looked over his shoulder, expression tightening in a minute expression of stress. “I am sorry about the general, Ob’ika , seriously. He’s just been under a lot of stress. The Jedi Council are putting a lot of pressure on him, and his master isn’t exactly helping.”

Fucking hell, what else was new. “Fascinating report, Rex,” Obi-Wan panned. “Debrief me more. Nobody’s seen Qui-Gon Jinn in the past week? Five new Jedi padawans are dead? Droids fall when you drop them off a cliff? Keep the hits coming.”

“I’m being serious,” Rex snapped, and this time Obi-Wan stopped in surprise. Rex was almost never in a bad mood. He wasn’t in a bad mood now. He just seemed - he really did seem stressed. “I just wanted to say - I just wanted to say that - you know, people aren’t really being fair to you, and - I don’t know, Obi-Wan, I just…”

“Whatever you want to say, Rex,” Obi-Wan said coldly, “why couldn’t you say it in front of Master?”

Rex hesitated. Something flashed across his expression, too quickly to see. It couldn’t have been fear. But Obi-Wan didn’t know what it was.

“Figures.” Obi-Wan turned around, and resumed walking away. “If you actually wanted to help, you’d do something about it.”

“A bad feeling, you have?”

“We are all going to die,” Obi-Wan said frankly, well beyond the furthest boundaries of caring. “As you can tell, by the fact that I am going to you , of all people , about this.”

Yoda made that phlegmy old man noise, ears twitching. “The last resort, Grandmaster Yoda of the Jedi Order, is?”

“Yeah,” Obi-Wan said, “you see, typically I like to go to people under eight hundred years old with my problems.”

Yoda raised a furry eyebrow. He probably thought it had some remote shaming effect on Obi-Wan whatsoever. Yeah, man, come back with radar duty. “Meditate on this, I will. But nothing, I will see. Know this, I do. Why? Nothing, our best seers have seen. Occluded, the future is. Why, Obi-Wan Kenobi, know the future, you do? When know the future, nobody else does?”

“Because it’s already happened!” Obi-Wan snapped. Yoda’s eyebrow probably would have had a great effect on somebody who gave a shit. “It’s already happened, it will happen, it is happening right now ! And maybe it takes the shittest Jedi in this Order to see it !”

“Speak to your Grandmaster, I must.”

“Good luck finding him,” Obi-Wan said. “I haven’t seen him in weeks.” 

And Obi-Wan noticed it, for the first time.

The 501st was paired with the 91st for a mission on a water planet. Jedi Master Nahdar Vebb was acting as general, and his battalion was being sent in with the 501st to rescue the battalion lead by his old padawan, Jedi Knight Kit Fisto. The master was openly anxious, practically wringing his hands. He was a healer. The gentle sort. 

When his back was turned, talking to an impatient Master, Obi-Wan saw the clones standing in a circle and snickering to themselves. 

“Sure hope the padawan’s alright,” one of his clone commanders said. No natborn would have been able to tell, but to Obi-Wan it was clear as day: it was noticeably sarcastic. 

“I hear the local penguin population is especially deadly to the local sea life,” another clone said gravely. It was a joke. A natborn wouldn’t have noticed. 

Yeah, another clone trooper said, through a series of complex microexpressions, or a sushi chef.

Everybody laughed silently.

He couldn’t stop seeing it. 

A Jedi Guard trooper, knee bent as he inspected a baby youngling’s scraped knee. 

He tsk’d sympathetically. “Looks pretty nasty. You’re being very strong.” The toddler blinked up at him with big, watering eyes. “My partner will go get your crechemaster. Don’t worry, you’ll be right as rain in no time.”

But to Obi-Wan, who could read everything a clone wasn’t saying, everything they said to each other that no natborn could ever hear, all he heard was -

Twenty gods, somebody shut this brat up.

“You’re a lifesaver, Grey!” Caleb Dume said cheerily, clapping him on the back. His padawan Depa Bilaba scowled, retying her messed up and very singed braid. Obi-Wan did his best to look professional and relatively unsinged. By comparison. “You two saved our padawans again! Seriously, Marshal Commander Cody, we can’t thank you enough.”

“We didn’t need the rescue,” Depa muttered. For the first time in his life, Obi-Wan agreed with Depa. 

Cody’s eyebrow ticked. He was pissed at Obi-Wan for getting caught in such an obvious trap. Obi-Wan winced. “Just doing our jobs, sir.”

“It’s above and beyond your jobs, and you know it.” Caleb Dume’s smile grew a little more real, and his hand on Grey’s back lingered. “Seriously, Grey. I’m never worried about her when you’re around.”

And Grey felt so catastrophically, abysmally guilty that it almost took Obi-Wan’s breath away. Obi-Wan had never seen a clone so miserable with guilt and despair. “Thank you, sir.”

Cody twitched an eyebrow at Grey, telling him to get his fucking act together. Whoah. Bad word. “A soldier’s only as good as his command, sir.”

Caleb Dume laughed. Depa rolled her eyes. “Flatterer! You just want us to step in for Master Qui-Gon more often, don’t you!”

“You caught me.”

I’m sorry, Grey said, to Cody and Caleb Dume and Depa and nobody, and nobody, and nobody. I’m so fucking sorry. 

Obi-Wan knocked on Grandmaster’s door. Nobody answered. 

Victory!

Finally! After almost three years , after a lifetime’s worth of effort, pain, struggle, and hardship - he’d done it ! Obi-Wan Kenobi had successfully infiltrated a clones-only meeting !

AKA, Obi-Wan was hiding in the air vents above an enlisted man’s briefing. Yes, this was his life’s dream, shut the fuck up about it. 

Visibility was nil, since Appo would undoubtedly have his eyes peeled for any of the spots with actual visibility. Position was deeply uncomfortable, since Cody had rigged all of the actually comfortable ventilation shafts with alarms. Cody’s evil equivalent on the Resolute was Appo, who was just as skilled at keeping him out of places he wasn’t supposed to be, but Appo had noticeable weaknesses. He didn’t seem to have the sixth sense for Obi-Wan Shenanigans that Cody had developed out of sheer necessity, so it was a little easier to sneak things past him. Today, Obi-Wan had taken advantage of this exploit for all it was worth. Master and Rex were already on-planet with the recon teams, vanguarding troop deployment onto the new planet. Everybody thought Obi-Wan was with them. Little did they know , the Twilight had a few alarming lights go on and Master asked Obi-Wan to fly it back to the battleship for repairs. Nobody even knew he was on the ship! His luck couldn’t be better!

The infiltration today was real, it was successful , and Obi-Wan would ride this high for as long as he lived. Time to finally see what the men talked about when the natborns weren’t there. 

“Alright,” Appo said, “let’s talk about departmental restructuring.”

Obi-Wan’s first enlisted man’s meeting was extremely boring. One of the most boring meetings of all time. And Obi-Wan thought that the officer’s meetings were boring. Holy fuck. This was somehow worse. It was just Appo’s voice, trading out with Vill, Bow, and Voca on troop movements and how the planetary bombardment would go. Yet again, Obi-Wan had to admire how the 501st really knew what it was doing. 

Obi-Wan was practically falling asleep by the end of it. Ah, well, at least it was checked off his bucket list. At least when he died - which would undoubtedly be soon, even if nobody fucking believed him - then it would be in victory. 

Honestly, something was probably scrambled in Obi-Wan’s brain. Prophesying his own doom for over five months now had really just tweaked something in him that hadn’t yet been un-tweaked. He was jumping at shadows. That thing with Ventress and little Boba Fett should have made him feel better, but for some reason it had only made his constant anxiety twice as bad. Typical reward for actually trying to make a difference. 

Master had gotten so pissy about it too. Insisted that Obi-Wan had ‘sabotaged the entire mission’. Maybe Obi-Wan had fucked up their Council-assigned mission, but he hadn’t fucked up his feelings-assigned mission. He didn’t know why his feelings had opinions about Boba Fett, but Obi-Wan didn’t control this shit.

“ - lastly, once this mission is over then we’ll guard Senator Aurelia’s safe extraction back to Coruscant. Crash company will be on guard duty.” There was a noticeably loud groan throughout the room, with other clones laughing at the misfortune. “No complaints, men.”

“Guard duty for a dove senator is a waste of our skills, sir,” Vaughn complained. “Can’t they get the 212th on that?”

“The 212th is busy being run ragged on the opposite end of the galaxy,” Appo said flatly. “As you are well aware.”

“I hate keeping senators alive,” Hawk said glumly. “I dunno how the Guard deals with it.”

“I hear they’re all alcoholics,” a clone joked. Some of them laughed. 

“Good luck, Crash,” Jinx said, “protecting senators always makes my skin crawl.”

“We ought to be killing ‘em,” Ridge said, bored. “Do something useful for once.” 

Ringo laughed. “Maybe Crash can ‘fail’, if you know what I mean. Dead senator, what a shame!”

Everybody laughed. Obi-Wan blinked.

Was this what enlisted men’s briefings were like? Was this what Cody and Appo had worked so hard to hide from him? These jokes about how much they hated the Republic, how deeply they wanted it dead? Obi-Wan had never heard them talk like this before - say outright that they hated everybody they were charged to protect. They must only speak like this in private, between themselves. 

It was kind of insulting. So much effort to shut him out of these secret meetings, just for this? Obi-Wan had known that clones detested the Republic for a long time. Clones weren’t in the habit of saying the truth outright, or directly expressing their opinions. It was all insinuation: an eyebrow here, a change in posture there. A seemingly innocuous statement or a well-placed observation. It was just how they worked. But only Obi-Wan knew that. He was the only natborn who spoke their language.

It made him special, a vode . Vode got it. They knew what shouldn’t be said. Comments about the war, the Republic, even the Jedi - that was just between Obi-Wan and the guys. And real vode knew what words belonged where. 

Obi-Wan had just never heard them spell it out so explicitly before. Be so obvious about it. The clones did say their true feelings outright, they were actually upfront about their hatred of the Republic - but only in private. No - no, Obi-Wan was in private with the clones constantly. Obi-Wan kept all of their secrets, he knew everything about the clones that a natborn didn’t know. He was special. But the only difference now was that Obi-Wan wasn’t in the room. They acted differently alone. But nothing was different.

Even this sinking feeling in his gut, the prickle of unadulterated fear - he’d felt it before. Back before he knew the right words to say, and began dismissing the feeling.

Was this supposed to be a secret?

“Oh, Obi-Wan.”

Bant’s embrace was cool and firm. She was larger than him, and he still fit neatly into her arms. She smelled like antiseptic and bacta and Bant, still so fishy and sharp. Obi-Wan’s tears only rolled off her shoulder. 

“I’m sorry!” Obi-Wan cried. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry -”

“Obi, it’s not your fault. He would have understood. We don’t control our deployments.”

“That’s not it,” Obi-Wan forced out. It wasn’t: so what if he had missed Garen’s funeral? He had missed Siri’s funeral. Reeft’s too, so long ago. He missed every funeral, like he missed every friend. He missed their days and their nights, their laughter and their tears - of course he missed their funerals. “I’m sorry, Bant. I have this - I have this awful feeling -!”

“A feeling?” Bant separated from him a little, and Obi-Wan drew away too. She traced Obi-Wan’s face with one flipper, blinking worriedly. “Did you have another vision?”

Another vision. Another vision, she says. Obi-Wan laughed a little, bitter and sharp. “Yeah, Bant,” Obi-Wan said, “I had another vision. I’m still having them. I never stopped.”

“Did you see Garen’s death?” 

“Yes,” Obi-Wan said, and it wasn’t until he said it that he knew it was true. “Yes, I did see it. I saw Siri’s too. And Reeft’s. I knew they were going to die before they died, I always know it, and nothing ever changes. I told Siri, you know that? I told her that her mission wasn’t going to end well. Do you know what she said?” Obi-Wan shuddered a gasp, rubbing at his eye. “‘So?’.”

“Yes, that…sounds like her.” Bant’s shoulders slumped, and she put both flippers on her lap. “I’m sorry, Obi-Wan. I’ve been forcing myself to focus on who’s still here. You and Quinlan are still alive. I’ve been telling myself that…although Obi-Wan’s been - you’re still alive! You’re still alive, and that’s the important thing.”

“Although I’ve been what?” Obi-Wan asked. He didn’t even really care. “A raging asshole?”

“You’ve been hurt,” Bant gently corrected, and Obi-Wan looked away. “When I feel you, Obi-Wan, I feel somebody who has been damaged the worst of all of us. Sometimes I feel as if you’ve been hurt the worst since the beginning. Because all of this…it’s already happened for you, hasn’t it?”

“Yes,” Obi-Wan said. “It has.”

“Is that why you stopped visiting me, Obi-Wan?”

“I’m sorry, Bant,” Obi-Wan said, “I’m so fucking sorry.”

They both knew what he was apologizing for. She didn’t make him say it. 

That was the last time Obi-Wan ever saw Bant.

And Obi-Wan would always be grateful to her, so pathetically grateful, because she didn’t make him say that either. 

“A bad feeling?” Master breathed. He looked - well, he looked pretty sick. He grabbed Obi-Wan’s shoulder, squeezing them tightly, and Obi-Wan fought the urge to squirm. “Obi-Wan, you said that you’ve been having bad feelings, right?”

What? Did someone finally fucking believe him? “Yeah,” Obi-Wan cried, “I really have. Master, are you -”

“What were they about?” Master demanded. “Were they about Padme? Did something happen to Padme?”

“To Padme?” They hadn’t been about Padme at all. Or maybe just not specifically. They were really universal, broad feelings of terror… “Why are you asking?”

And then Rex was there - as he always was , standing at Master’s elbow or cracking some joke in his ear. And boy, Rex looked awfully concerned. “The Commander said that they’re pretty catastrophic feelings, General,” Rex told Master. “As if everyone he knows and loves is about to die.”

“Everyone?” Master released him, and for the first time that Obi-Wan could remember he looked scared. “As if everyone’s about to die? Even -”

“Come on, General,” Rex said. He patted Master on the back, pushing him gently and steering him away from Obi-Wan. “Maybe some sleep will help.”

Obi-Wan watched Rex gently steer Master away.

Depending on your point of view, it was the last time he saw Anakin Skywalker. 

Obi-Wan hadn’t known that. He had only known the dread - the dread equivalent to understanding that the man who was tasked with training and raising you was disappearing forever, and that soon his name would be too painful to even remember. Obi-Wan felt his brother dying by degrees, and he didn’t know why.

He didn’t even notice. Nothing had changed. Anakin Skywalker had been dying by degrees for a long time. 

“I’m being recalled to Coruscant,” Grandmaster said, pulling on his cloak. “There’s an emergency with Count Dooku. I’m the only person they trust to kill him. You’ll stay on Utapau with Cody, padawan.”

“You too?” Obi-Wan asked, alarmed. “The Chancellor already asked Master and the 501st to stay on Coruscant. Can’t Master take care of it?”

Grandmaster looked back at him, and it struck Obi-Wan how tired he looked. He felt like a ghost of the proud and strong Qui-Gon Jinn that Obi-Wan had once known. “I can’t leave Anakin to fight Dooku by himself. It’s time that I take care of my old master once and for all. Be safe, Padawan. Mind Cody.” Grandmaster nodded at Cody, standing just behind Obi-Wan. “Marshal Commander.”

Strangely, Cody didn’t salute. He just nodded. “See you on the flip side, Jinn.”

Grandmaster smiled thinly. “How honest.”

And Obi-Wan had the worst…he just had the very worst…

“Obi-Wan, you have to let go.” 

Obi-Wan was clutching Grandmaster’s robes. He didn’t even remember reaching out, sinking his fingers into the rough-hewn brown fibers and gripping for dear life. He didn’t remember stopping his Grandmaster short. He was saying something, but he wasn’t entirely sure what it was. 

“Please,” he might have been saying. “Please, please, please .”

“Oh, Padawan.” Grandmaster stood in front of Obi-Wan, expression gentle, even as Cody hovered anxiously at Obi-Wan’s other side. “I truly am sorry. But I have to leave.”

“Don’t,” Obi-Wan said, “don’t, don’t -”

“I must,” Grandmaster said simply, “and you know I do. So let go.”

“I can’t,” Obi-Wan said, “Grandmaster, you don’t understand, you can’t go.”

Cody infringed on Obi-Wan’s vision, frowning mightily and looking a little agitated. “Obi-Wan, you should -”

“This doesn’t concern you, Marshal Commander,” Grandmaster said, and it was the sharpest Obi-Wan had ever heard him speak to Cody. “Give us a minute, please.”

Silently fuming, Cody stepped back. Obi-Wan had realized recently that Cody didn’t like Grandmaster. He had always known that, but lately he had really realized it. It made him feel kind of awkward - as if he ought to be taking sides without admitting that he was doing it. But he knew that Cody really respected Grandmaster - something that he wasn’t sure Cody knew - so he figured it was alright. He had always figured everything was alright. At the end of the day, it had to be alright.

“Obi-Wan. Listen to me now.” Grandmaster was standing in front of him, and Obi-Wan hated how high he still had to look to meet Grandmaster’s eyes. He was so much taller than him. He would always be taller than him. “You’ve always had a different destiny than the rest of us. You’re going in directions that we can’t follow. But you do not go alone. Wherever you walk, the Force is with you. Do you understand?”

“You’re not coming back.” It was a cruel thing to say. Obi-Wan didn’t say it to Bant or Master. But he said it to Grandmaster. Maybe because he knew that Grandmaster was listening. Grandmaster had always believed him. He just hadn’t cared. “Grandmaster, please don’t leave me.”

“Those we love never truly leave us,” Grandmaster said simply. “The Force will be with you always, Obi-Wan Kenobi. Now you must let go.”

It was the hardest thing he’d done in a long time. Once he started, he was afraid that he wouldn’t be able to stop. But Obi-Wan did it anyway: he opened his hand and let go of Grandmaster’s cloak, letting the rough-hewn fabric slip through his fingers. 

The only concession Grandmaster gave was a tight hug. His embrace was large and soft, and it smelled like dirt and oil and Grandmaster. He held Obi-Wan for two seconds, three, before letting go. Grandmaster gave Obi-Wan a faint, tired smile, and Obi-Wan understood how deeply faked it was - how it had been faked just for Obi-Wan’s own peace of mind. He hadn’t even bothered to fake reluctance.

He turned to leave. And, in his leaving, Grandmaster shot one final glance over his shoulder at Cody. 

“You win this one, Marshal Commander,” he said simply. “I never quite figured it out. Or - ah, perhaps I did. But just a little too late, wasn’t I?”

And Cody -

“Have a safe trip, Jinn,” Cody said. He smiled, and placed a hand on Obi-Wan’s shoulder. “I’ll take care of Obi-Wan while you’re gone.”

Grandmaster gave Cody one last, inscrutable look. Finally, he said, “Yes, I believe you will. Take care, Cody.”

“See you, Jinn. Can’t say it was a pleasure.”

Grandmaster smiled lightly. “Can’t say it was fun, either.”

“Exciting, though,” Cody said, “I can’t deny.”

Grandmaster laughed, clean and bright. “Exciting! Yes, let’s remember it as exciting.”

Grandmaster turned his back and left Obi-Wan behind. It took Cody five minutes to calm Obi-Wan down and convince him that he was just upset about the danger of Grandmaster’s mission, and that he would see him again for sure. By the end of it, Cody seemed a little frazzled. He seemed surprised that Obi-Wan was so upset.

That was the last time Obi-Wan saw Qui-Gon Jinn. But he had known that. 

Obi-Wan undertook his best rabid Loth-wolf impression as the traitor clones pulled him away from the sound of blaster bolts. 

He really gave it his best shot. Never let it be said that Obi-Wan Kenobi half-assed being annoying. He pulled, yanked, and kicked as hard as he could, screaming his head off. None of it was probably very impressive, considering how close he was to passing out, but he hoped that quantity would make up for quality. It even paid off: by the time that they reached the edge of the pavilion he managed to smash his heavy, giant cuffs on Tup’s bucket, rattling his head a bit. If he could just land another hit -

“Okay, that’s it.” Fives released Obi-Wan, and Obi-Wan had barely enough time to even notice the victory before he cleanly backhanded Obi-Wan across the face.

It hurt. A lot. Obi-Wan had taken a lot of hits from Fives, and even when the Force was with him his hits always landed hard. But the humiliation hurt worse. Obi-Wan shouted, crumpling in Tup’s grip. Tup made a disapproving noise, but Fives just grabbed Obi-Wan’s tunic and kept him upright. 

A stupid part of Obi-Wan’s mind, growing stupider, thought: he wouldn’t have dared do that with Cody around. 

“Listen to me,” Fives said lowly, “and look around. What do you see, Obi-Wan?”

Of course, the answer to that was obvious. They were hemmed in on every side in every direction by clones. Marching, talking into comms, directing in tanks. Blasterbolts were firing in an incessant rain, and Obi-Wan was beginning to hear the faint sounds of screaming. In the far distance, growing closer. From every direction. Obi-Wan couldn’t turn his head, but he knew what he would see if he looked behind him towards the Temple. 

Obi-Wan looked back at Fives, and he knew that horror was blossoming across his face. The sight of one of his best friends, a sight that always meant an ally at your back and rumpled hair, brought no relief. 

“That’s right,” Fives said, cold and removed. “You run from us, in one minute you’re back in the arms of someone else who will bring you to Lord Vader’s ship. Every clone here - every clone you will ever see again - is under Lord Vader’s command. Give it an hour and the smart natborns will be with the program. So don’t make this harder than it has to be and join the smart natborns. Got it?”

“Fives!” Tup hissed, scandalized. “What’s wrong with you? You’re scaring him!”

“Yes, Tup, that is recognizably the point.” Fives let go of Obi-Wan, letting him sag in Tup’s arms. “Let’s get moving before he starts coming up with ideas.” 

Obi-Wan spat at him. It didn’t even land on the armor. 

It was chaos. Everything around him was chaos. Tanks, marching clones, even a siren beginning to sound in the distance - it felt as if he was on an occupied planet. He was on an occupied planet. Obi-Wan had just never been on the wrong side of an occupation before. He had always been the occupier. That, or the liberator. 

He felt suspiciously like one of the faceless masses of pitiful civilians, clutching each other with black eyes and oozing wounds as they watched the soldiers march by. He felt like one of the ‘freedom fighters’ - they always called themselves ‘freedom fighters’, the GAR always just called them terrorists - valiantly struggling against the nasty GAR and getting themselves thrown in prison for it. 

The Separatists occupied the planet. The GAR freed it. That was how it worked. A perfectly loyal Republican planet was caught in the cross-hairs of the greedy Separatists, the Separatists tried to steal it, and the GAR stole it back. Sometimes the Separatists tried to steal it with money - stole it politically , tricked or blackmailed the planetary system into flipping towards the Separatists - and the GAR had to forcibly take it back with their armies. Sometimes the planet had shipyards or something, and the Republic really needed it. 

They had only ever bombed villages with Separatist sympathizers. They had only burned homes hiding terrorists. They had only ever punished planets that were turning traitor against the Republic. 

Obi-Wan had never felt like the bad guy. He had always felt like the good guy. Except for all those times he…

Obi-Wan had only ever hurt other people. He wasn’t the one who was hurt.

The sight of Master snapping the neck of yet another little freedom fighter blinked in his vision, burned beneath his eyelids. The sight of Rex next to him, cheering him on and laughing.

“Rex,” Obi-Wan gasped. “Where’s Rex…”

“Ugh,” Tup said, “hopefully he’s doing his job and killing Tano.”

Fives sighed, pulling Obi-Wan onto the Jedi ship loading bay. He waved them past a guard of more than fifty clones. The ordinarily peaceful shipbay was crawling with clones, and Obi-Wan saw that the entrances into the Temple were shuttered with blaster shield doors. “Please. The Marshal Commander put him on that duty knowing it’s a suicide mission. The Emperor’s gonna have to get her.” 

“Hey, have some more faith in our captain!”

“Who the fuck is the Emperor !”

“Oh, here we go.”

Something thumped at the blaster doors. Blaster fire sounded. The thumping stopped.

Fives directed a handful of clones as Tup lugged them onto the Twilight. Dementedly, it was exactly the same as ever. The stray lugnuts wedged between two dashboard panels were still there. The loose shreds of leather from Master’s stray fidgeting were still lying around the pilot’s chair, casually discarded as they were ripped up. A battered datapad loaded with astronav assignments was still at the nav station. 

Assignments, Obi-Wan thought stupidly as Tup extended his cuffs and fixed them to one of the grip bars above the nav station. He was able to sit down in the chair as the clones took the seats further back, staring dumbly at his assignments. Astronav. Quinlan’s notes were scribbled on it, transmitted from his own class. I know you’re too busy for school these days, but I thought you might still be interested in these…don’t worry, I won’t tell anyone you’re still secretly a nerd…

Fives carelessly placed Master’s shoto on the control dashboard, removing his helmet as he sat down at the pilot chair. When Obi-Wan turned around he saw Tup sitting next to him at the co-pilot chair, inclining his head and listening carefully to something. Probably receiving internal communication from the other clones.

“Huh,” Tup said, “Bly’s rogue.”

“Wow, really?” Fives gasped, bitingly sarcastic. “What a shock! Who would have guessed!”

“Hey, don’t shoot the messenger droid.” Tup hummed, clicking through a few more missives. “Lots of padawans escaping, that’s suspicious…whoah. Wolfpack’s gone black too.”

“You don’t say. Both Bly and Wolffe gone rogue. Amazing.”

But Tup just shook his head. “I said Wolfpack . The whole-ass battalion’s dropped off the grid. Man, I’ll never get that collective obsession for one old guy. Like, he’s just some old guy?”

“Eh. Bly’s weirder, to be honest.” Fives sighed, settling back in his seat and crossing his arms. “Fucking your command’s freak behavior. They call us weird, that’s the real sadistic shit. Playing happy families with the people you’ve been trained since birth to murder…it’s not right.” 

Quinlan: yoooo think were finally having another beach day you gotta come. 

“Yeah, he’s just prolonging the inevitable,” Tup said. “Now he’s gonna get executed with ‘em. Think they’re gonna make an example of him?”

Quinlan: uh taking that back. Blys being real ????. get back to you. 

“Executed?”

Both Fives and Tup stopped, as if only just remembering that Obi-Wan was there. Fives closed his eyes, sighing and leaning his head backwards. Tup just seemed a little awkward. 

“ Right ,” Tup said slowly, “nobody’s…told the young lord. Well. Go for it, vod . You’re an advocate of the truth.”

Fives’ eyebrow ticked in irritation. “No, vod , you’re such an advocate of the mass murder, you do it.”

“Okay, when you put it like that -”

“ What is happening ?!”

“Fine! Fine.” Fives straightened, finally opening his eyes and looking straight at Obi-Wan. “It’s all been a deep cover assassination plot all along. Happy? Don’t answer that, I know you’re not.”

Obi-Wan couldn’t breathe. 

Finally, Tup took off his bucket and set it on the ground next to his feet. He seemed just the same as ever. It was unnerving. Tups didn’t seem any different at all. It was just Tup.

He even looked worried, so sweetly concerned. “Don’t worry, my lord. You’re on the winning side. You were on the winning side all along, don’t you get it? You just didn’t know it.”

“Yeah, my lord. Sorry we waited so long to tell you.” Fives crossed his arms, raising a mocking eyebrow at Obi-Wan. Obi-Wan wasn’t sure what he was mocking.  “As it turns out, the secret clone army designed only for murder death commissioned by a shadowy figure that pretended to be the Jedi yet obviously was not…was a secret Sith plot. Surprise! Big old Sith plot all along.”

“The GAR was a Sith plot too,” Tup said eagerly. “It was this whole thing. I didn’t always understand it, but that’s how you know the Emperor’s a real genius. He engineered this entire war from the beginning. He pretended to be the weak Chancellor of the Republic, but in reality he was the strong leader guiding us from the shadows! Pretty cool, huh?”

But Fives was just staring Obi-Wan down, dark eyes unblinking. “We always knew about the Emperor. About how he controls both the Separatists and the Republic, and how he’s using the war to destroy all weakness in the galaxy. We were decanted to serve as his soldiers in his war. We’ve always understood that. The Jedi were just stepping stones. It’s our role to eliminate them and clear the way for the new Empire.”

“Eliminate them?” Obi-Wan whispered.

“There’s no need for concern, my lord,” Tup jumped in eagerly. “Everything’s going to be alright. I know it’s scary now, but once the corrupt galaxy’s gone we can build a new one together.” Obi-Wan gaped silently as Tup kept talking, clearly warming to the topic. “No more Jedi placing little kids on the battlefield. No more bloated body of the Republic standing in the way of progress and peace. No more Separatists! The war is over. Now that the entire galaxy’s unified, we will have absolute peace.”

“Dozens of gods, you sound like the shinies,” Fives said, staring unimpressed at an offended Tup. “All they do is spout dumb Kamino Imperial propaganda. I swear the Empire’s going to be just as useless as the Republic.”

“The Empire’s not going to have any Jedi ,” Tup said waspishly, “so it’s already better.”

“We’ll still be dealing with those block-headed natborn offi -”

“ Eliminate them ?!” Obi-Wan screamed. He pulled at the cuffs as hard as he could, harder than he thought he was even capable of, and he couldn’t stop. “What the fuck do you mean eliminate them , you fucking psychos ! What are you doing! What are you doing to my family!”

“Your family ?” Tup said, genuinely hurt. “What family? We’re your family, my lord. You always said so. What do you care about what happens to the traitor Jedi? You still have us.”

“Why do you keep calling me that!” Obi-Wan cried. “I’m nobody’s lord, I’m a Jedi ! Let me go, let me out of here right now, or I’ll fucking -”

“There are no more Jedi,” Fives said, freezing Obi-Wan’s galaxy. “Any Jedi who survive today are traitors and fugitives. You’re the honorable family of Lord Vader. Seriously, my lord, which one would you rather be? Don’t complain about your good luck.”

“It’s not a lie!” Tup insisted. Fives just rolled his eyes. “The young lord’s an honorable 501st vod . He was always one of us. The student of Lord Vader’s built different from the rest of the traitors. We’ve always been lucky to have him.” Tup looked at Obi-Wan, all shining sincerity. “I know there’s some things we didn’t tell you, my lord. I know you’re probably really stressed out and scared! But the way we feel about you isn’t a lie. You’re a good kid, Obi-Wan. You’ll understand one day.”

“Everybody really does love him,” Fives said, and despite the soft words his tone was impossibly bitter. “The whole 501st and 212th adores Obi-Wan, and it always did. No matter what happened, no matter how many of us died in a pointless puppet war, we always had his shining face encouraging us. Thinking we were so damn cool. Loving him that much was the stupidest damn thing we ever did.”

“Cody,” Obi-Wan said, impossibly. “Did Cody…?”

Both Tup and Fives looked surprised - as if Obi-Wan’s doubt itself was incredible, as if Obi-Wan was ridiculous for ever being in doubt. 

“Cody adores you, kid,” Fives said. “It’s kinda scary.”

“He got an exclusive mission from the Emperor himself to look after you and keep you safe,” Tup eagerly added. “The Marshal Commander always gets the most important jobs. He takes them really seriously.”

Something deep and irreparable in Obi-Wan fractured.

Fives snorted. “Yeah, and he kept on insisting it was all for the mission. Birthday parties and books on dinosaurs aren’t exactly mission crucial, but he’ll deny ‘til he’s blue in the face.”

“I was half expecting him to pull a Bly,” Tup told Fives. Fives grunted. “But he obviously knows where the young lord belongs. Might be 212th, but he’s still good enough for us.” Tup took another look at Obi-Wan, before abruptly blanching a little. “Uh, kiddo, you gonna pretend that you tripped and fell, right? ‘Cause Fives gave you a hell of a shiner.”

“What? I did?” Fives startled a little, eyes widening. “Fuck.”

Reproachfully, Tups said, “Lord Vader’s not gonna like this.”

“Fuck!”

Obi-Wan thought as fast as he could.

What was happening? 

The Chancellor of the Republic was a Sith. He had been controlling the war this entire time. He had commissioned the clones - commissioned them to serve as his personal soldiers. His goal was to use the Republic and the CIS to wipe each other out, and to take advantage of the war to create his own personal Empire. However the fuck that was supposed to work. 

The Jedi were tools. The clones had been assigned to the Jedi with the explicit purpose of killing them. But not the 501st - the 501st were assigned to protect the future Sith Anakin Skywalker and his ‘brother’ Obi-Wan Kenobi. 

The clones thought they loved him. Unless Fives and Tup were lying about that. Cody pretended that they meant nothing to each other. Unless that was part of the plan, part of the - the demented scheme. There wasn’t a single truth that Obi-Wan could trust. There was nothing to know, beyond the names of the living and the dead.

One thing was for certain. The Sith wanted Obi-Wan. Obi-Wan was not capable of killing the Sith - thank you, extremely embarrassing near-death experience with Dooku. Grandmaster always said to never, ever give the Sith what they wanted. Obi-Wan had to escape. If he didn’t escape here, escape now, then he might never have the opportunity again. 

The Jedi Temple against the fighting 501st and its ferocious general. The Jedi Order against the legendary strength of the combined 501st. They had no chance. Nobody ever had a chance, not against the 501st at its best - everybody knew that -

But the 501st wasn’t at its best. It was missing its partner general, the Jedi’s Jedi, Qui-Gon Jinn. And it was missing its padawan commander. 

The weakness would have to be enough. It would be the only weakness Obi-Wan could exploit. 

So Obi-Wan -

Smiled. 

“Why should I?” Obi-Wan asked. His voice sounded as if it was coming from far away, but it was clear and bright and smug, and that was all he needed. Both clones blanched. “You know how overprotective my brother is. He’s not gonna be happy with you two.” He waited a careful second before adding, “I could lie, but it’ll cost ya.”

Both clones groaned. Fives scrubbed a hand over his face. “Letting Obi-Wan Kenobi get blackmail on me. Fuckin’ shiny mistake here.” 

“What do you want,” Tup said, long suffering. “We aren’t uncuffing you.”

“I just want a little info,” Obi-Wan wheedled. It didn’t even feel like he was speaking - as if the sound of his voice was just a rendition of Obi-Wan Kenobi from five rooms away. “Is that too much to ask? C’mon, just one little tidbit and I won’t tell my brother a thing.”

Tup clearly didn’t look happy, but Obi-Wan knew he was convinced. “I guess I can check to see if any of your little friends are still alive.” 

Flippantly, Obi-Wan said, “If Quinlan survived Bly’s hard-on for his master then everyone I care about is fine.” Tup nodded, relieved. So Quinlan was alive. Alright. Alright, Quinlan was alive, alright. “It’s fine, I don’t care. But something’s bothering me. My brother knows I love him, that I’m always on his side, but he didn’t even tell me this was happening. Why am I only finding out about this now?”

“Oh, there’s no way Lord Vader had any idea this was happening,” Tup said cheerfully - undoubtedly relieved that Obi-Wan’s only request was something so simple. “I bet he thinks that all of this was his idea. Absolute genius, strategist like no other, did not wake up today plotting genocide, if you know what I mean.”

“Nobody knew but us,” Fives told Obi-Wan, strange and serious. “The Emperor, Kamino, and the clones. We were the only ones who knew. But we always knew. And this was always our only intention. Every single one of us was in on it.”

“Speak for yourself,” Tup muttered. “As usual, the 501st are the only really loyal ones.”

“What does that mean?”

“A lot of Jedi are ‘escaping’.” Tup said, voice adding air quotes to the word. “Especially the baby traitors, for whatever reason. More than we anticipated. Fox is going to open up an investigation, but it’d be impossible to tell who missed accidentally and who missed accidentally-on-purpose.”

“I hope Boba hasn’t tripped into yet another extermination,” Fives told Tup. “Poor brat. Wonder where he is.”

  “Wasn’t Fox supposed to capture him? The Emperor probably wants that loose end tied up.”

“Yeah, but I think we lost track of him…?”

“Man, Jango would kill us for constantly losing track of him.”

“Whatever,” Fives said, “who gives a fuck about Jango. He never gave a fuck about us.”

“‘Least he was good at teaching us to kill Jedi.”

Obi-Wan hated. 

He hated these people. He hated viciously. He hated white hot. Obi-Wan was full of hot hate, but the Force was cold and empty. The void ripped and tore at him.

The Force was cold and empty. Obi-Wan was alone, a gaping black void in the Force left to shiver in the cold. It didn’t feel like he was sitting on this stool, tied to a railing by one of his closest friends. 

Obi-Wan Kenobi wasn’t the one speaking so casually, calling a monster his brother. He couldn’t hate his family like this. It felt like - someone else. Obi-Wan Kenobi was someplace far away, where this wasn’t happening to him, and that had to be why he felt so cold. 

Obi-Wan Kenobi shivered and froze. But the person who could smile and lie and hate like this - that was the person who would survive. The person sitting on this stool was warm. The hate kept him warm. He would survive. 

“I swear, Fives, sometimes you don’t even act like a 501st man.”

“Because you all get so sycophantic sometimes,” Fives complained, slouching in his seat. “I fucking hate the Republic and Jedi as much as the next guy -”

“The next guy who was on Umbara,” Tup noted wryly. 

(“You’re strong with the Force, Padawan. Have a little more faith in yourself.”

“I’m not . I’m average. I have to work five times as hard as everyone else. I hate it.”

“Jedi do not hate. You’re just frustrated. That’s alright. Your hard work is your virtue. When the Force fails you, that will remain.”)

“Which is you , so shut it. All I’m saying is that it’s all the same. Republic, Empire. Jedi, Sith. Whatever.” Fived sighed gustily, staring at the ceiling. “Either one of them giving us a paycheck?”

“You and your paychecks ,” Tup said, somewhat derogatory. “And your dumb time off! That shit’s for natborns. Get your head in the game, man. The Empire’s not going to be as lenient as the Jedi. You gotta shape up.”

(“I thought the Force never failed a Jedi.”

“Well, sometimes the Force helps those who help themselves.”)

Obi-Wan focused.

He breathed in and out. Obi-Wan packed up the storm in his heart and pushed it into the Force, and the capable soldier left in his place finally reached that battle calm. His fear and anguish and hate melted away.  The cuffs cut him off from the Force, inscribed with ancient runes that carried the ghost of Sith magics. Apparently there were only a few craftsmen in the galaxy who could make these - the last deposits of ancient secrets. 

Obi-Wan had once watched an old Jedi in the Temple make them. It was one of their many field trips, where they would learn all about every one of the hundred jobs people had in the Temple that kept their life running. They would visit the Corp, too, and talk with exaggerated excitement about the life of a farmer. Obi-Wan’s crechemates had pushed him, whispering mockeries about how he should go join them.

The old Jedi, bent with age with silvery-white fur, had showed them how the cuffs were made. They took a big piece of metal and used a vibrohammer to flatten it out, letting the vibrations stretch out the metal into a thin sheet. They inscribed the runes into the inside of the cuffs, then folded over the sheet so the runes were hidden inside. Then they would wrap it around a cylindrical piece of durasteel and use the vibrohammer again to beat them into shape. Finally, they would weld the pieces together with an electrotorch. The electric and locking mechanisms were added by an electrical engineer elsewhere in the Temple.

Obi-Wan saw it all in his mind’s eye. He took a deep breath, exhaled gently, and closed his eyes. He tried stretching out his awareness only to find it absent. He tried again. He reached deeper. He tried again. He reached deeper. He tried again.

(“You have a unique connection with the Unifying Force. You call loudly, deep within yourself, and the Force answers. I believe it’s due to your strong convictions.”

“Convictions?”

“You love very deeply, Padawan,” Grandmaster said. “Don’t lose that.”)

The Unifying Force, from whence Qui-Gon Jinn had returned, drifted into his hand. Just a strand. A glimmer of light, curled inside his heart that loved too much. It was all he needed. 

He reached out inside the cuffs, imagining the long and neat lines of runes running up and down the hidden interior. He knew distantly that he was sweating with the strain, but he could barely tell. His entire focus was on the cuffs and the Sith runes.

Obi-Wan used the single thread of Unifying Force he could glean and used it to cut a notch into one of the runes. 

The cuffs deactivated.

A wrecking ball slammed into Obi-Wan’s mind. He screamed, with a strength and volume he didn’t know he could still summon. He heard the rustling of armor, but not footsteps. He couldn’t pay attention. The Force had exploded back into life around him, and it was screeching. 

No. It was dying.

How to describe it? It was indescribable. It wasn’t a sight, smell, taste, texture, or sound. It wasn’t time or space. It was a stream of moments coursing after each other, glimmering and shining in the glittering bonds between atoms. It wasn’t anything as simple as agony, or as easy as eternity. 

It was the sight of Cody working on formwork late into the night, stylus scratching at a datapad. Cody with his back turned to Obi-Wan, lit only by a single desk lamp, softened by surprise. Cody’s hand reaching out, hovering over a light switch. A hand, falling. It was the reason why Cody told Obi-Wan stories far after his bedtime, and why Obi-Wan slept ten minutes after reveille. 

It was Master, grinning wide, young and fresh. Master finger-combing his hair, Master shrugging on a jacket, Master turning away. Two unlit lightsabers juggled between two hands, two lit lightsabers bearing down with incredible force upon your own. A lightsaber dropping carelessly onto the dusty ground. A hand held in the air. A hand clenching. The crack of a neck. The crack of a vase. It was the sight of a back, turned. 

It was Grandmaster, his back turned. His door closed. His eyes exhausted. His sighs endless. Sitting underneath the darkness at a table, datapad discarded. 

Quinlan, the splash of ice-cold water on his face. Bant, a fishy smell as she held him close. Yoda, ears always twitching. Scolding masters and surly padawans and teasing initiates. Caleb Dume, laughing. Nahab Varr, wringing his flippers from worry. 

The last two years coursed over Obi-Wan’s eyes, breaking the floodgates of memory and drowning him underneath its weight. As the tides of memory swept Obi-Wan away, he saw the flipbook run in front of his eyes. Image after image after image, strung together by the chains of causality, and the moving picture that consequence performed. 

The monster emerged, and it cried. 

It sounded like a thousand voices crying out, before silence. 

All was silence. 

Obi-Wan was alone. 

Alone.

Alone.

Alone.

(“You’ve always had a different destiny than the rest of us. You’re going in directions that we can’t follow. But you do not go alone. Wherever you walk, the Force is with you. Do you understand?”)

“Maybe we should stun him -”

“He’s just upset, asshole!” A distant hand shook a distant shoulder. “Hey, Commander. Don’t cry. What did I say? Everything’s going to be just fine for you. Do you want Cody?”

“We can’t just grab Cody and calm him down anymore,” Fives said, abandoned someplace far away. “Congratulations. We had one thing for ourselves, that we could actually be proud of, and we’re giving him away.”

“He wasn’t ours ,” Tup snapped. “At least he’s away from the Jedi now.”

“You know what, man? You’re right. As always. You think the Jedi were bad? Just wait ‘til you see the Empire!”

(“Those we love never truly leave us. The Force will be with you always, Obi-Wan Kenobi. Now you must let go.”)

Obi-Wan Kenobi let go. 

The Force rushed into him, and he moved. 

It only took three smooth motions. The cuffs exploded, shards of metal flying everywhere and cutting up Obi-Wan’s robes and skin. He leapt off the chair, vision still obscured by dark spots, but he didn’t need his sight.

He extended a hand, and the Force brought a lightsaber into his palm. A short dark blue beam of light cracked throughout the room in a snap-hiss , and Obi-Wan brandished the lightsaber with an expert twirl of his wrist. 

A blaster fired, but the blade deflected the bolt without conscious thought. Obi-Wan flicked his wrist and cut off Tup’s head. A blaster fired again, and Obi-Wan dodged the shot before flicking his wrist one last time and decapitating Fives. 

Both bodies slumped onto the floor almost simultaneously, heads rolling on the grate. Obi-Wan spared only a second to push Fives’ body entirely off the seat before taking his position as the pilot and automatically prepping the ship for flight as fast as he physically could. He ignored most of the pre-flight checks (“If you’re setting off in a hurry, just worry about these three - the rest are for when you don’t have bigger problems!”), instead slamming the switches and grabbing the controls and pushing them hard for sedentary take-off.

As the ship whirred and ground into action, Obi-Wan took a second to adjust the settings on the pilot’s chair so he could see the controls better. The chair was set for somebody much taller than him.

Out of the dash window, he could see clones yelling and waving their arms at him. He saw it as they realized that it wasn’t Tup or Fives at the helm: that it was Obi-Wan, who was already pushing the ship into the air. He jolted as the ship left the ground, and the ship radio immediately began beeping with incoming calls. He reached over and switched it off before unplugging it. 

The ship jumped into the air, and Obi-Wan pushed them forwards. He heard the whirr of ships behind him as they sprang into motion, but he pushed them away into a corner of his awareness. He focused on piloting - on escaping the winding and claustrophobic skyscrapers. 

He reached upwards, windows and buildings flying by so quickly they were nothing but grey smears. This port wasn’t designed for immediate hyperspace jump, and Obi-Wan had to escape the range of the skyscrapers or he’d be stuck jumping into the middle of an apartment complex.

The familiar burn of ship artillery discharge whizzed past him, and Obi-Wan risked a glance at the radar. Three bogeys advancing fast. The Twilight could outrun them, but -

Obi-Wan cursed and banked hard as a missile shot towards him. He let the ship drop, watching the missile crash and explode into a building - that undoubtedly had people inside - before reigniting the thrusters and jumping higher.

Higher, and higher, and higher. Obi-Wan was almost off his chair with the effort, the harness straining to hold him as he tried to dodge enemy fire in a narrow corridor hemmed in by buildings. They undoubtedly already had somebody headed to intercept him above the buildings, and Obi-Wan fired up his guns.

There. A ship came into view, guns whirring and sparking. Obi-Wan didn’t hesitate: the minute he saw it he fired, watching the bolt puncture the wing and send it spinning. He had only just gone back to the controls when he felt a hard impact to his left, banking the ship sharply right. Familiar impact sirens sounded, echoing around his ear, and Obi-Wan glanced at the internal diagnostics to see that they had lost a wing. 

The back of the ship jolted forward, sending Obi-Wan almost crashing into the console, and the readout informed him that the back engine was damaged. It wasn’t going to hold on. Down a wing and an engine in a ship as small as the Twilight, he had barely seconds before he fell. He’d be dead in the water. 

He’d killed Fives and Tup for nothing. Great.

But the Twilight lurched onwards, as indomitable as its owner, and Obi-Wan exploded into the clear blue sky above Coruscant. For just a second, he saw it - saw all of it. All of Coruscant below him, unending and arching, a pincushion boasting millions of needles jabbed straight into its center. It was a beautiful sight that somehow tasted violent: as if it had been stabbed a million times, and was crying out for help.

As Obi-Wan hovered over this screeching graveyard, his intuition told him one thing.

It told him that Darth Vader would not survive the day. That Anakin Skywalker had burned bright, and that he will burn through himself. He had worshiped the wrong person, and that this person would cut him down.

Obi-Wan would escape in Darth Vader’s ship. The Emperor’s backup Sith padawan would disappear today, his life scrubbed away into nothing. Cody’s gambit was for nothing. The massacre of the Jedi would end in a great and fantastic kamikaze that would accomplish nothing but rivers of blood. 

It was all for nothing. Today was the birth and death of Darth Vader.

Today, on the day that this new Empire was brought squalling into a galaxy that had been razed so it could be born, this new Empire would begin to die. The countdown to the death of the Empire had begun. It would only be a matter of time. 

Obi-Wan slammed the Twilight’s specially modified button, colloquially referred to as the ‘Jinn Button’ - for fast getaways where you needed to be anywhere else but here, it computed a random hyperspace coordinate that wouldn’t kill you and got you there fast. Master Qui-Gon swore by its mystical efficacy. Master Anakin swore by how it got you out of a jam in a second.

Today, Obi-Wan Kenobi died. All was lost.

The ship jumped into hyperspace, screeching and rattling apart as its engine bravely roared and then died, the stars smearing as Obi-Wan rattled in his seat. 

They didn’t jump out of hyperspace so much as fell. The ship’s sensors screeched louder, new alarms buzzing, and the ship auto-ejected itself out of hyperspace. They screeched to a halt somewhere in space, nothing and nowhere, only endless black surrounding them.

Obi-Wan thumped the console, flipping through every readout and checking the damage. Dead in the water. Life support still active, which was always pleasant. The emergency beacon was still active. Far from the worst situation he’d been in. Turn on the emergency beacon to a GAR frequency, have the closest Star Destroyer pick them up, he and Master would get bitched at by whatever poor Jedi had to turn off-course to help them -

Obi-Wan pulled up the settings for the emergency beacon, and without really thinking about it he changed the frequencies. No vessel over five inhabitants should receive it now. When they stopped to investigate and/or capture him, he’d kill them and take their ship. Small ship to small ship emergency beacons were the exact kind that pirates used to piggyback onto and use to hunt, but somehow Obi-Wan had bigger problems.

He unbuckled his harness and stumbled forward to where Fives and Tup lay. They looked like any other dead clone, in the end. 

Obi-Wan knew the Sith. He knew Anakin Skywalker. If they had let him escape, they would have been executed summarily. It was now or later. He had no choice.

A small, nasty voice in his head whispered - he didn’t have to escape. Master wouldn’t have hurt him. He’d probably live a life in luxury. As the brother of Darth Vader. 

But that was a little incompatible with revenge.

Obi-Wan knelt down next to Fives’ decapitated corpse, before slowly lying down. That was better. He said two quick verses of liturgy, a Manadlorian goodbye to soldiers marching far away. Prayers taught him a long time ago, by somebody who couldn’t be further away.

A sound crawled through his ears. A memory that hadn’t happened yet. He heard the buzz of twin lightsabers colliding against steel, felt his own mouth moving. A voice echoed from far away. Obi-Wan felt as if his heart was breaking. 

Obi-Wan lay next to the corpse of the friend that loved him, and finally allowed the immeasurable psychic agony of his genocided people to force him unconscious.

“And buir means parent?”

“Right.” Cody ripped open the bacta pack with his teeth, his glove sticky with blood. His other hand was still applying pressure to Obi-Wan’s wound. Obi-Wan wasn’t worried about the wound. The Force was providing. Or Cody’s distraction. “A Mando’s family is their aliit , their clan. Mandos fight to protect the aliit first. But a buir - buire fight to protect their ade , their children. That’s what it’s all about. Blood, you know, genetics - it doesn’t mean shit. You choose each other. You just say some words, make an oath - and you choose each other.”

“A parent, huh.” Obi-Wan hissed as the cold bacta hit his wound, and Cody muttered apologies. “Wonder what that’s like. Must be nice…”

“Tell me when you figure it out,” Cody said, breathless and wry. Something distant exploded, and a light shower of rubble dusted their hideout spot. The firefight had moved on, but Cody and Obi-Wan had stayed behind. “Mine always told us that we weren’t people, just dumb animals. But he was the closest we ever got, so we loved ‘im.”

“What’s it like?” Obi-Wan whispered, and Cody’s hands halted over Obi-Wan’s softly coursing blood. “What’s it like having a dad, Cody?”

“I - well.” Cody coughed a little, ducking his head and reasserting all of his attention on cleaning and dressing Obi-Wan’s wound. “A father’s the person who trains you up. Teaches you how to live, to be strong. It’s his job to create a soldier who survives everything the galaxy’ll throw at him.”

“ Buire are like teachers, then?”

Cody pressed bandages over Obi-Wan’s side, hands flexing. “No. A real buir ’s more than that. Far more. A buir and his ad , their relationship - it’s special. They belong to only each other. There’s nobody more important. The buir would do anything for their ad , put everything on the line - and in return, the ad loves and respects them the most. The ad is just for the buir . And the ad - he’s loved unconditionally. He always knows that there’s someone out there who loves him more than anything.”

The singed air smelled of smoke and blasterfire. But all Obi-Wan could smell was blood and Cody. 

Cody hesitated, strong and sure hands faltering. “I think. How am I supposed to know, right?”

Tholoth crumbled around their ears. But Cody was only looking at Obi-Wan, and Obi-Wan knew only Cody, and nothing else existed at that moment. Nothing but themselves, and the persistent fantasy that existed unacknowledged between them.

There was a void in Obi-Wan’s chest. Something was missing in him. That void responded to Cody’s words. 

“And that father,” Obi-Wan breathed, “puts the kid above everything else? He - he really pays attention to him, he really cares? Nobody’s more important than his kid, right?”

“Yeah,” Cody said, ragged and thin. “No matter what. Doesn’t matter who that kid grows up to be, what that kid does, or how hard it gets. Nothing can break that bond. They’ll always be father and son. That father would move heaven and hell for his son. Do anything to keep him safe.”

“Why?”

“‘Cause that’s his kid,” Cody said. “That’s what dads do.”

“Huh,” Obi-Wan said, as Tholoth fell. “How does that oath go?”

 Cody taught Obi-Wan the sacred Mandalorian binding oath of adoption, and the war waged on without stopping to look, and Obi-Wan attributed the terrible feeling to the active acts of aerial bombardment happening around them.

“- now this definitely isn’t a yacht.”

“Captain, it’s Anakin Skywalker’s ship, we gotta get outta -”

“Yes, yes, but do you see Anakin Skywalker? No? All I see is - oh.”

“...is he dead?”

“That moving chest is a human breathing , my dear. Now hurry up. Get back to the ship and tell Zell that we’re blasting this thing to smithereens. Don’t so much as leave a recognizable corpse in atmo. And we ought to leave now , because I highly suspect a certain Sith is wondering where his ship is.”

“Why we fucking ‘round with the Sith, boss - hey, that’s a fuckin’ lightsaber! Score!”

“Take it. Such unwelcome things often come in handy. Don’t whine, hop to it.”

A rough, pebbled hand shook Obi-Wan’s shoulder, and a familiar voice whispered in his ear. “No time for crying and whining, Obi-Wan. It’s time for action. Let’s make a break for it before we all encounter some truly unique trouble.”

Obi-Wan rattled a harsh breath.

“...alright, just this once.” Captain Hondo Ohnaka leaned down and carefully picked up Obi-Wan, throwing him over his shoulder in a rescue carry. “I don’t actually know if you can move or not…let us be off! About step, now!”

“Not Obi-Wan,” Obi-Wan muttered. “Not…”

And, with those final funeral rites, the galaxy pulled his head back into the undertow, and he drowned.

Chapter Text

They pulled Rex out of class. 

The supervisor paused his flash training module for him, simultaneously making his head spin and convincing him that they were under attack. But the supervisor just informed him that the Batch Supervisor wanted to speak with him, so leave immediately and return post-haste. 

The other cadets didn’t stare at Rex as he slipped out of his seat, but that was just because they were too focused on their flash training. Rex didn’t want to see the looks they would have given him - or, worse, the way they would have avoided looking at him - but he couldn’t help but want them to notice he was leaving. 

Rex resigned himself to his fate as he walked down the long, winding hallways, his hall pass thumping against his neck on its thin string. 7588 would miss him. 7599 for sure, they were best friends. Actually, he was pretty sure everybody would miss him. They’d all skip class and hold a big funeral. There’d be a pyre and everything. Maybe they’d all revolt, and Rex could be a martyr for their revolutionary cause. 

Yeah, right.

Rex tried to imagine as many good scenarios as he could - more genetic testing, like when he was a kid - or at least scenarios that didn’t have anything to do with him - like if the trainers were tracking down the origin of the smuggling ring. But the number of good scenarios he thought of didn’t last the entire way to the Batch Supervisor’s office, and by the end of it he was already mentally writing his inspirational deathbed words to give his brothers strength in the coming days. 

He knocked on the door, and waited the one-two-three before the door slid open. The minute the doors opened fully he saluted, statue perfect. 

“Sir, CT-7567 reporting!”

Batch Supervisor was sitting on a chair inside the office, and they impatiently waved Rex in. That had featured in every one of the simulations Rex had thought up, so he was prepared for that. What he hadn’t counted on was Jango Fett being there too, standing opposite the Batch Supervisor and scowling. 

Rex quickly dropped the salute, walking inside and standing at attention instead. He had to work really hard not to boggle at Prime, but it was super hard. He was so tall. Super tall. And big . Look at that armor! Wow! Rex saw him around all the time, but not this close. Rex had never noticed that he smelled weird. Not like everything else. But it was a cool weird. With that weird smell, Prime didn’t really resemble any of them at all. 

Prime looked down at him, squinting. Rex stood as tall as he physically could, fighting a sweat. He stopped and stared at the hair, just like everyone else, and Rex had to fight embarrassment. He had gotten over it by now, but something about Prime looking at him made him embarrassed all over again.

Finally, in a really husky and cool voice, Prime said, “The hair ?”

“It’s a defect,” Batch Supervisor said. Rex didn’t actually know their name. They steepled their hands on the desk, their thin fingers weaving in tightly between each other. “Kamino standards of quality do not allow defective products to represent our work.”

Yeah, yeah, yeah. Rex might as well have named himself Defective Product. Def, for short. Defcon-One. That was kinda cool. The older guys had insulting names like that all the time. They said it was to ‘reclaim them’. But Rex thought that he’d rather cut out his tongue then listen to the word defective one more time. 

“So you’ve said,” Prime said. He didn’t seem very impressed. He kept looking Rex up and down. Rex set his face sternly and looked back at him. Prime had a wobbly tooth. You couldn’t be scared of someone with a wobbly tooth. How’s that for a defect. “If he was so defective why’d you keep him around?”

“Observation. We needed to see if the mutation had any longer-lasting developmental issues. After five years of development, we’ve deemed it harmless.” Rex had heard this one before. He’d heard it all before. Why were they having this conversation with Prime ? What did he care? “We’ve been considering relegating him to a support position, but his scores -”

“Are too good for that.” Prime cut in, looking back at Batch Supervisor. Rex fought the hard cut of horror at the words ‘support position’. That was for the defects . The real ones. Rex was a defect too, but he wasn’t like them . “For the last time, there’s no use in wasting good talent just because he’s the wrong shade.” He grabbed a datapad off the table, scrolling through the readout. He frowned at the display. “Cadet, what did you say your number was?”

“CT-7567, sir.”

Prime shot a sideways glance at him. “Got a name?” Rex looked at the floor. Prime lifted an eyebrow, but went back to the datapad. “I got it. None of my business. Here we are. What’s your marksmanship score, 7567?”

If he was looking at Rex’s file he had to know, but Rex answered the question anyway. “Perfect, sir.”

“Hm. Combat sims score?”

“Perfect.”

“Tactics score?”

“Perfect.”

“Flash training score?”

“Perfect.”

“I understand your point,” Batch Supervisor cut in testily, making Rex clamp his jaw shut, “but it’s a matter of Kaminoan standards of excellence. Our commanders are highly visible , Jango Fett. They’ll be in regular contact with the Jedi. They will be the strength of the Empire. We must put our best faces forward - if you excuse the term.”

Were they talking about…?

“You don’t know any more than this kid what it means to fight a Jedi,” Prime said flatly. “They’re dangerous, vicious bastards, and some little mass produced soldiers won’t cut it. Numbers can only get you so far. You need talent . The cadet has more talent than most of those little droids you have me training, and I want him in my class.”

“I’m afraid the administrative division is not under your supervision,” Batch Supervisor said. They didn’t sound very happy with Jango, but Rex could barely even hear them over the thump of his heard in his ears. Talent . I want him in my class . Talent . “You may bring up the matter with Uan Be if you wish.”

“Who also gave me the runaround.” Prime tossed his datapad on the desk, letting it skitter on the hard plastoid. He looked down at Rex instead, expectant and strange. “And you, 7567?” He seemed so big, impossibly strong. Would Rex ever look so strong? Maybe blonde people couldn’t ever look that powerful. ‘“What do you think?”

Well. Hit by a drop, hit by a wave. “I can’t hit a target with no gun, sir.”

Both Prime and Batch Supervisor stared at Rex for a long second, and Rex had to fight to keep himself from wincing. There’s that legendary Rex mouth again. Ponds were right, he really wasn’t built to last - 

Prime smirked, and he looked back at Batch Supervisor. “Well? You heard him. His ranking doesn’t matter in the long run. Let me train him, make sure he ends up close to a Jedi, and I’ll stop bothering you.”

Batch Supervisor stared at Prime, blinking long and slow, and Rex’s head spun with the heard death experience. Finally, they dipped their head in a nod. “Acceptable. I will file the schedule reassignments immediately.”

Talent. I want him in my class. Talent . You heard him . 

“Switch him into the CC bunks too,” Prime said off-handedly. “It’s important for team development. I’ll walk him to his new class.”

Batch Supervisor inclined their head at Prime, even as he already began turning to leave. “A pleasure to work with you, Jango Fett.”

Prime muttered something uncomplimentary under his breath as Rex rushed to keep up with him. The door slid shut behind them with a strange finality, and Rex had to fight to stop himself from jumping. 

Command classes. Not command track, but since Rex was lucky to be alive he couldn’t really complain - command classes! They were going to give him a Jedi, they were going to make him important, he’d be a hero, a real hero, he was going to train with Jango Fett - ! 

“Somebody’s excited.”

Rex fought hard not to flush. He was already hyper conscious of how close he should walk next to Prime. Should he walk just a little behind, like they were marching? Or should he walk a little apart from him, so Prime could speak to him easier? He obviously wanted to talk to him, there was no way Prime would walk him to class otherwise - he was already talking to him!

“Uh,” Rex said, “yeahIguesssoIdunno.”

“Mumbling’s for the half-hearted.”

Stupid! Rex straightened, and he made himself look at Prime in the eyes. Rex wasn’t half-hearted. Rex was double, triple hearted! “Why did you help me?” 

That surprised Prime, although Rex didn’t know why. “What makes you think it was about you?”

Their footsteps echoed long and empty throughout the halls, and for the first time Rex thought that Prime didn’t quite fit. He was too tall, with the wrong proportions. A clone belonged here, the Kamino. Elegant, perfect, and graceful - all of them. But Prime and the trainers didn’t. They were too rough and dirty. It was weird - this place was Prime’s, why did it look like he didn’t belong here?

“There’s lots of cadets with good scores. Some’a them got attitude problems and that’s why they aren’t promoted. 7744’s the best shot in Kamino but he’s not a good talker so they aren’t putting him in snipe class. Why are you helping me?”

Prime looked down at him, expression flat and inscrutable. “I saw your scores from a year ago.” Rex froze. “They’re a bit different from your scores today, aren’t they?”

Rex didn’t say anything. 

“I didn’t know they could work you harder than they do. But you worked yourself harder. You made yourself top of the class. You know how many of your brothers have that drive? Almost none.” He snorted, looking back down the long and winding halls. “You can’t mass produce a warrior. None of you know what real hardship is like. You’ll never understand the real galaxy.” Okay? “But you know what it’s like to have the system hate you because of an accident of your birth. I need more soldiers like that.”

Rex couldn’t tear his eyes away from Prime. He seemed even larger now. Even more powerful. To Rex, in that moment, the man could punch a hurricane. For a wild, crazy, stupid second, it seemed that Prime would punch anything that was messing with Rex. “I won’t let you down, sir! I’ll - I’ll be the best of the CCs, too!”

They came to a stop in front of an unfamiliar door, leading to an unfamiliar classroom. Jango smirked a little, thumbing the door open. “Go ahead and tell them that, won’t you?”

The door opened to a gang of cadets, sitting on the floor and talking amongst themselves. One of them was sitting a little apart from the others, drawing on a piece of flimsi. Two of them were trying to kick each other, increasingly ineffectually. One was lying on his back, staring at the ceiling. Another was reading a datapad, bored. Of course, Rex recognized them all immediately. 

They all looked up when Prime and Rex entered. The cadet holding the datapad dropped it, eyes wide and growing wider. The cadet drawing on the flimsi blinked, then went back to drawing. 

Prime grinned, clapping Rex on the back and making him stumble. “Welcome to your new classmate, cadets. This is CT -”

“ Rex !”

The clone with the datapad scrambled upwards, running over, and in an unprecedented and mind-boggling act of impropriety he hugged Rex fiercely. Rex fought the urge to squeak, overwhelmed, but he hugged the other boy back.

“Hi, Kote,” Rex muttered. “Surprise…”

“Is that his name?” Prime asked, before pausing a beat. “Is that a hug ?”

“Oh no ,” 3636 groaned, “he’s following us to class ?”

Ponds used the opening to land a final kick on 3636’s leg, making him hiss, before scrambling upwards. “He’s not supposed to be here, Prime,” Ponds said snootily. Rex stuck his tongue out at him. “He’s a - he’s sticking his tongue out at me!”

“He’s supposed to be here if Prime says he’s supposed to be here,” Kote said heatedly. He quickly stopped hugging Rex, as if embarrassed, but he kept a hand on his shoulder. “You wouldn’t say Prime’s wrong, would you?”

“I would say Rex’s face is wrong!”

“I thought that was his hair?” 5052 said, not looking up from his flimsi.

“You guys talk too much,” 1010 said, not moving up from the floor.  

“I love walking in on your bizarre little dynamics ,” Prime muttered. 

Rex squinted up at him. “Mumbling’s for the half-hearted,” he said reproachfully.

Prime kneaded the bridge of his nose before making a sharp hand motion, cutting silent all of the squabble. He walked away from Rex, leaving Kote to sling an arm around his shoulders and hug him again before separating, and walked closer to the center of the room. He craned his head to look at 5052’s drawing, pulling a face. “And…what’s that supposed to be, 5052?”

“It’s a battle,” 5052 said serenely. “See, it’s us and you fighting the Evil Jedi. Except for this Jedi here. He’s a good Jedi, because he switched sides and joined us instead. He took the Resol’nare so he’s not a Jedi anymore, he’s a Mandalorian like us. We’re fighting on this big planet that’s entirely in the sky, above the clouds so it doesn’t rain, and -”

“You are the weirdest one,” Prime said, almost impressed. 

“Enough recreation ,” Kote barked, as best as he could. He always said ‘recreation’ like it was a bad word. “Everybody line up!” Everybody scrambled off their feet and lined up, although a bit more resentfully than if Prime had said it. Kote looked up at Prime, lowering his voice. “Did they really…”

What? Had Kote done this? Jango just shook his head minutely. “I got him in the classes, but they wouldn’t agree to promote him. Maybe I should have shown them your ten minute presentation, verd’ika .”

“But you did it!” Kote hissed. Rex watched in wonder as his face lit up, as pure joy spread across his face. Rex had never seen him so happy before. Ponds rolled his eyes. 1010 squinted sleepily. Rex recognized for the first time that he squinted just like Prime. “Thank you, thank you -”

“I don’t do favors,” Prime said coldly, and Rex watched as Kote’s face completely shut down back into his professional cadet face. “And I don’t waste talent. If he got in, it’s by his own merits. So don’t spoil him with all that kiddy crap.”

In barely a second, Kote was standing neatly and professionally away from Rex, as if they were next to each other in the reveille line. “Yes, sir!”

3636 threw his hand in the air. “Does this mean we get to beat Rex up in akaniir class?” He elbowed 1010, who didn’t react. “Tens, did you hear that, we’re gonna beat up Rex -” 

“I heard you the first time,” 1010 said, bored. 

“You never act like you’ve heard me -”

“You never act like you have a thought in your brain.”

“Hold on,” Prime said, somewhat overwhelmed, “Kote, if everybody in this room hates Rex, then you should have mentioned that. If he’s a risk to group cohesion then that’s a problem.”

Every cadet stared at him, baffled. 3636 scratched his head, wondering why wanting to beat someone up would mean that he didn’t like them. 5052 silently held up a new piece of paper, showing everybody killing Evil Jedi together with Rex. They were all smiling. 

Prime sighed. He lightly pushed at Kote and Rex’s backs, sending them scrambling into tight formation right next to each other. He stood in front of the line, hands clasped behind his back in a mirror of their own poses, and Rex couldn’t stop himself from almost vibrating with excitement.

This was it. This was it . This was everything Rex had worked so hard for. More than that - this was everything Kote had worked so hard for. 

It wasn’t just Rex’s talent or his hard work. It was Kote. Rex just knew that Kote had petitioned his case to Prime, that he had worn him down enough to stand up for Rex. It was so embarrassing how Kote was always looking out for him, always helping him - but it made Rex feel good too, warm and fiery inside. Whatever the opposite of a thunderstorm was. That was Kote - the opposite of everything cold and harsh in their little world. 

Even when Kote was cold and harsh, he never really meant it. And Kote really could be cold and harsh sometimes, but - but Rex knew that Kote only ever really wanted Rex to be successful and heroic like he deserved. 

In that second, Rex knew that he’d never be able to repay Kote for this. This made them blood brothers . This made them kin . Rex would take a blaster for this guy . 

“Remember the purpose of your mission, cadets.” Prime stared them all down evenly, and Rex’s spine tingled. His eyes didn’t look anything like theirs. There was something really different in them. Somehow, they were as shallow as a tidepool and as deep as an underwater trench. “It’s not about this Republican military shit. Real Mandalorian militaries aren’t anything like this farce. We work on an honor system. We follow the strongest leaders, and you will follow the Jedi so long as they are the strongest. But the Jedi’s character and morals are weak , and that is why you and your brothers will succeed.” Prime swept them with a long, keen eye, and Rex felt his eyes linger on him. “Despite everything you are lacking, your mission makes you worthy to call yourself Mandalorians. The strength of your character and your values make you Mandalorians. This group, and a few other elite soldiers, have the drive and spirit to call themselves Mandalorians. You have to fight for it. You have to earn it. And if you slack, then you will lose it.”

Not Rex. Rex wouldn’t lose it. Not ever, ever, ever - ever!

“Now get to work - I want to see formation five, now. Rex, you’ll play enemy combatant until you pick it up. Everyone else, show Rex how it’s done. After he’s done, 5052 will swap in. Then 3636. Get going.”

“Yes, sir!” Everyone chorused, as 5052 stuffed the flimsi further in his pocket. 

And, in the last split-second before they peeled away, Kote reached out and took Rex’s hand. Lightning fast, body carefully angled so Prime couldn’t see, Kote whispered, “Congrats. I knew you wouldn’t let me down.”

Rex beamed. 

And, despite the way they all wanted to dunk his head in a ‘fresher, 3636 clapped him on the back, Ponds ran his hand through his blonde hair, 5052 smiled shyly at him, 1010 pretended he didn’t exist - or maybe he just hadn’t noticed, 1010 was super spacey - and Kote pulled everybody into formation and battle readiness. 

Rex’s galaxy had once been as simple as that. 

The night before deployment, Fox shook Rex awake. 

Rex woke instantly, almost jumping out of his skin from sheer nervousness. Everybody was on edge. The command course had known for months the exact date that they would be shipped out, and it had left them all nervous wrecks. The rank and file men weren’t looped in, so they were all wondering why the top ori’vods were acting insane. It had taken forever even just to get to sleep. Seeing Fox standing over his cubby in the dead of night like some sort of spectre was not what he needed on the eve of the most important day of his life so far.

“Whuhbuhwhat,” Rex said. 

Fox reached over and smacked on the little light inside of Rex’s cubby. The small fluorescent light showed Fox standing in his full armor kit, with even his bucket hooked on his belt. There were deep bags under his eyes, and he looked a little wrung out and hung out to dry. He tossed a datapad on Rex’s chest, like he was throwing a small fish back into the ocean. 

“Orders are in. The 501st’s assignment was confirmed.” The 501st. The entire front line battalion that Captain Rex would be leading. You know, the attack battalion. Not to brag or anything. “You’re being given to Lord Vader.”

“ Whuh buh what ,” Rex said.

Of course, now everybody else was up too. Wolffe and Ponds were cursing out Fox for speaking at a normal volume in the dead of night, and Ponds was flipping on his light as if he was looking for a target to punch. Cody had jerked upwards, arms swinging as if an assassin had snuck in. The actual top assassin in the dorm was muzzily asking where the fire was. 

“Assignments are in the briefing. Read it then burn it. The Emperor trusts that you will not fail him. Long live the Empire.” 

Then Fox walked to his bunk, crawled in, and promptly fell asleep. 

“Long live the Empire,” Rex said intelligently. “Sorry. What?” 

Bly’s head jumpscared into view, hanging upside down from his cubby above Rex’s. “Wow, did you get your assignment already? That’s so fast! I guess Lord Vader was really eager to get going.”

Wolffe was already scrambling out of his cubby, shirtless and fuming. “Lord Vader!” Wolffe shouted. “Why does Rexie get Lord Vader? My combat skills are ranked higher than his!” Wolffe began kicking Fox’s bunk. “Hey! Explain this! I thought I was going to get Lord Vader!”

“I thought Alpha-17 was going to get him.” Bly was now hanging upside down from his cot, legs hooked around the side of his cot as his torso swayed across Rex’s vision. “You know, due to being the most elite soldier we got. Or maybe Bacara? He’s a Marshal Commander. Are we really just giving him Rex?”

“Twenty gods,” Ponds moaned into his hands, “who gives a shit who got who, go the fuck to sleep!”

“I am making a complaint!” Wolffe yelled. He thrust out a hand at Rex, who was already avidly reading the briefing. “Service to Lord Vader should be a reward for the most loyal soldier! One who gets the highest scores on the advanced battle sims! A respectably ranked commander! Shouldn’t the most honorable position go to somebody who remotely deserves it?!”

Fox snored. 

A pillow collided with Wolffe’s face, and he turned around to throw it back at a hissing Ponds. “Are you seriously questioning the Emperor’s orders?”

“No, they’re just pissing me off -”

“Wolffe’s jealous!” Bly sang, swaying happily in the air. “J - E - A - L -”

“F - U, Bly -”

“What does the briefing say?” 

Cody had slid out of his bunk to squat next to Rex’s, eyes glinting with interest. Rex slid out from inside the bunk and sat on the floor, angling the datapad to show Cody. “It’s a lot,” Rex muttered, dazed. The Emperor himself had typed this up…was that why the words felt weirdly holy? Sacred, almost? “Complete personal history of Vader. Complete psych profile. Weaknesses, strengths…the timeline. Desires and fears, plans of action for the war…am I supposed to freaking memorize this tonight?”

Cody angled his head, scanning the text that Rex was flipping through double-time. “It says that you’re meant to get close to him. Act as a confidante. Earn his favor and trust…it must have been a personality-based matchup.”

“But we can fake whatever personality we want,” Bly said. Rex startled a little, forgetting that he was listening in. “The Emperor could have just added in a page about what persona to make up and have that be the end of it.” Bly brightened. “Maybe he picked the blonde one so Vader remembers who he is!”

The dormitory was dead silent. 

“Honestly?” Ponds said. “Likely.”

Wolffe nodded, satisfied. “Yeah, that’s it. Good job everybody, pack it up, let’s go back to bed.”

“You’re the one who woke us up, asshole!”

But Cody just scrolled through the datapad faster, eyes flickering through the text as he read it at speeds three times as fast as a human was even capable of reading. “Don’t you think this is a dangerous assignment? Serving as the right hand man of a Sith…it’s prestigious, but the Emperor will be testing Vader’s power and strength of will. You’d be on the front lines of five battles at once.”

Front lines of five battles at once?

Rex grinned, excitement and honor and anticipation rising in his chest. “I know. Isn't it awesome?”

Cody glanced at him for one second, then two. Then he smiled too, squeezing Rex’s shoulder. “I’m proud of you. You’ve worked harder than anybody else for this. You’re going to be the finest weapon in the Empire.” Just for a second, Cody’s grip tightened. “You can’t afford to mess this up.”

“Have I ever messed up anything in my life?” Had any of them? You didn’t get to Lord Vader’s right hand man - and boy, Rex would be saying that anywhere and everywhere he could, as often as he could - by making mistakes. By not being perfect. Cody wasn’t Cody because he tried to be perfect, he was Cody because he was perfect. “I got this. Watch the Empire sing my praises. Maybe you’ll be remembered as my ori’vod .” Rex grinned, adopting his ‘natborn voice’. The joking natborn voice was standard. It sounded like every trainer rolled into one pretentious package. “‘Who was that Cody fellow, hm? Wasn’t he almost as great and honorable as the Marshal Commander Rex -’”

“I’ll let you get eaten tomorrow.” Double burn. Way to drop an insinuation that Cody was the only reason Rex wasn’t dead. “I’ll see what I can do about getting a posting close to you. The Marshal Commanders are receiving the high-leak risk positions.” Rex must have looked surprised, because Cody added, “Bly’s getting a psychometric padawan, Bacara’s getting the top Order expert in Sith, and Neyo’s getting a healer highly sensitive to Dark energy. I’m sure Vader’s Jedi master must be a risky spot too, right?” The more Cody spoke, the more he clearly warmed to the idea. “Can’t let him pull Vader too closely to the light with his fatherly care. He’ll be the Jedi leading Vader astray from his true destiny. I’ll see what I can do, Rex.”

And Rex didn’t want to admit how much that reassured him. “You can’t hover forever, Kote.”

Cody grinned, scrubbing Rex’s head. “Then let me hover for just a little while longer.”

Of course, Cody’s best wasn’t much. He could request or angle for a position, but he didn’t control where he was assigned. The Emperor would give him the best place for him and that would be that. No matter how dangerous Rex’s position was, Cody could hardly keep him safe on a battlefield he wasn’t a part of. Cody had always pulled out all of the stops in his eternal fight to protect Rex, but it was like trying to shift the currents of the sea. But it made Cody feel better to pretend, so Rex let him pretend. 

Tomorrow, they will let each other go. Rex would meet his great and prestigious destiny, and Cody would undoubtedly be insanely competent wherever he went. But Cody was going to have the best bragging rights in the GAR. Rex was going to make sure of it - that wherever Cody went, being insanely competent and slightly overbearing and all - Cody was going to be able to brag about him. That his closest brother was the right hand man of Darth Vader, savior of the galaxy, weapon of the Empire. 

Rex was finally, finally , going to make him proud. Rex was going to be good enough for him.

He was going to be good enough for all of them. The defect was going to prove how loyal and talented and valuable he could be. Darth Vader would be his ticket there - his ticket to greatness. If Rex just got in good with Darth Vader, kept himself valuable and trusted and treasured, then everything was going to be at his disposal. Even the right to exist. 

“Watch me get some useless old guy,” Wolffe complained. “Watch me get a pacifist .” He couldn’t have said the word pacifist with more scorn. 

Bored, Ponds said, “If they’re too boring you can just get them killed.”

Wolffe brightened. Ponds rolled his eyes. “Oh, yeah! Crisis over, we’re good now.”

“I have an exact idea of who my ideal Jedi is,” Bly said cheerfully. “Anyone wanna hear it?”

“ No !”

“Cool! So she’s not a human, that’s boring - I think she’d be some adventurous species or something, like a Togruta - and she’d be a maverick Jedi, a complete rebel, and she’d have terrible self-esteem that I could exploit so easily -”

“We’re not going back to bed, are we,” Cody said mournfully.

Fox snored.

Just to set the record straight: Rex was a hero. 

They were all heroes. Loyal soldiers first, obviously, in place to support the real protagonists of the galaxy, but every clone was a personal hero of the Empire. They were the ones with the holy mission. They would be the ones on the front lines, fighting to the preserve the Republic against the evil forces of the CIS until it was time to revolt against the Republic, kill the Jedi, and enforce galactic peace. 

And Rex? The Marshal Commanders, the clone commanders, the best of the best? They would be the ones who would make the Empire happen.

Which was a good thing. Everybody said so. Everybody said so - the flash trainings, the Kamino, the trainers, Jango Fett while rolling his eyes and actually mocking everybody else. Boba if he wanted to be included. It barely even needed to be said. Sometimes Rex felt as if he’d been born knowing that. 

He hadn’t been born knowing why the Empire was good, but he didn’t stop and ask himself that question until six months into the war. Ironically - or maybe just statistically - it was pretty much Vader’s fault. 

They were in a shitty dive bar on Planet Who Cared. They had just conquered - uh, sorry, ‘liberated’ - it from the nasty CIS oppressors, and the city itself had been completely evacuated before the bombings started. Combing through the rubble searching for the secret CIS headquarters that Vader had been reliably reassured definitely existed, they had found a miraculously untouched bar. Rex and Vader had called in a very serious investigation into the underground headquarters, high fived, and started drinking through the place. 

Absolutely alone, free of all prying eyes or thoughtful cameras, Vader really opened up. Rex constantly refilling his glass helped. 

“You know what I like about you?” Vader said, jabbing a finger at Rex. It was the fact that Rex always spoke his mind and didn’t act like Vader was better because he was a Jedi. “It’s how you always speak your mind. You don’t treat me like I’m better just ‘cause I’m a Jedi. ‘Cause I’m not. The person giving you orders isn’t better than you. Fuck, the people in charge are always the worst. People telling you what to do - are bad. Very bad!”

“Hate to say it, but being told what to do is how it works in the military,” Rex said, amused despite himself. He took a sip of his beer. Vader thought Rex got drunker way more frequently than he actually did. Once or twice - ah, let’s not mention that to Cody. Or Fox. “Can’t see many ways I’m better than you, sir. But I can think of a dozen ways we’re better than the rest of ‘em.”

Vader laughed, light and drunken. “You can read faster than me! I still suck at reading.”

“Reading?” Vader could out-shoot, out-memorize, out-run and out-fly Rex. And Rex could out-anything almost everybody else. It was very humbling, and only reinforced what a strong and amazing leader Vader was. “You can do anything, sir, you have to be great at reading.”

But Vader just snickered into his drink, looking at the far wall of the bar. Many of the glass bottles were shattered, and the air stank of a unique mix of a dozen varieties of flash-fried alcohol. “When I was a kid I could read bits and pieces of Huttese. Specific stuff. Could read an instruction manual for a starfighter but not a, uh, fuckin’ picture book. Took me forever to learn how to read Basic. Maybe I could’a gotten it faster, but everybody was always making me feel like shit for not knowing how to do it. I got so embarrassed. Refused to practice. Classes didn’t help…but Master let me learn at my own pace, so I got it eventually. Eventually, right?”

Reading? Rex learned how to read when he was a year old. Rex knew how to read ten languages, just to cover his bases. 

There had to have been some sort of expression on his face, because Vader huffed a laugh. He drained his glass, letting it clatter back onto the bar. “You got no idea why, do you.”

He absolutely did. “No, sir.”

“Sir. Sir…” Vader’s expression darkened, and he hunched his shoulders over the bar. “I’m so big. I’m so adult. Educated men callin’ me sir. Go me. Yay. I never dreamed of this.”

“Sir…?” The briefing had not given him a reply for this. He honestly didn’t know what the hell Vader was going on about. And he usually did! Vader and Rex were always on the same wavelength. Rex bragged that they could read each other’s minds. 

“Man, I was stupid. I wanted everybody to know what I could do, how great I was. Respect, everyone would respect me. But - I just wanted to be as good as everyone else. My biggest, greatest dreams. I was only as good as everyone else. But I went from worse to better. I’m still…”

Rex was silent. He just refilled his glass. Did he say something? It had taken him a while to figure it out, but Vader wanted comfort sometimes. Even natborns wanted that.

After a second’s grappling, Rex said, “I went from being a defect to being the best of the best.” AKA, serving directly under you. “But my brothers never treated me any differently. You just gotta find other people like you, eh? Everybody’s got somebody who understands ‘em.” A little more practiced, he said, “Hell, sir, you understand me. Forgive me for being presumptuous, but I think I understand you. We can tackle the galaxy together, can’t we?”

“There’s nobody out there like me,” Vader said, simple and sure. He said it with such certainty - as if it wasn’t just an opinion or an insecurity, but a truth that span the galaxy. He was probably right. “But thanks, Rex. You’re - just a really nice guy. But you don’t -”

“You don’t make me feel like I have to hang out with you, I don’t feel pressured to hang out with you, and I’m here ‘cause I want to be.” Rex had said that so often . Vader still kept making him say it. Rex would worry that it didn’t sound authentic, but it was even true. 

“Oh. Cool.” Vader thought hard, before something clearly occurred to him. He scrambled fully upright, and he grabbed Rex by the shoulder. Strangely, almost frantically, he said, “I’m never going to hit you, Rex! You’ll always have food, any time you want, okay? I’ll keep you alive no matter what, you aren’t - aren’t disposable or expendable or cheap. I won’t even yell at you! You know, right?”

“Uh,” Rex said, “...yeah?”

“I’m not going to beat you!” Vader said fervently, and there was something in his powerful blue eyes that Rex didn’t like to see. “I’m not that kind of person, I’ll never do that, so don’t be scared!”

“Sir, I didn’t think you would?!”

“Oh. Awesome.” Vader settled back, beaming happily and more than a little drunkenly at him. “Just watch, Rex. I’ll end this war for us. We’ll be free of all of this. And we’ll be real, actual friends, right? No more titles, no more generals or captains or sirs. It’ll just be us, without that bullshit in the way. I won’t be able to hurt you at all. Me and Padme are gonna be free and happy. I’m gonna stay home, take care of the kids, and I’ll support her being her super-awesome self. I’ll make her lunches! I’ve always wanted to make somebody’s lunches for them. It’s so domestic.”

Vader had spilled the oil on him and Amidala months ago. Rex sympathized. It had to have been murder keeping your marriage to one of the most attractive, talented, accomplished, and prestigious women in the galaxy secret. Or so described by Vader. Amidala was…fine. A little unsettling. She looked at Rex too hard, harder than almost any natborn did. As if she was actually seeing him. It made Rex's spine crawl. Natborn politicians looked at him, but they weren't supposed to see him. Best to keep his distance from her. “Husband of the year, you’ll be.”

“What are you gonna do once you’re free, Rex? Keep bees? Write a book? Find love, settle down? It can be whatever, you know!” Vader leaned against the bar, warming up to his own fantastical idea. “Every year, we can have a 501st reunion at Padme’s - our! - lake house. Big, blow-out party, with more booze than you’ve seen in your life. It’ll make Padme roll her eyes, but it’ll be her chance to have a lady’s trip with her old handmaidens. Man, Rex, you gotta see those views, you’ll love going diving and swimming with me.”

Rex had a thought that he didn’t know he could have. Or maybe he just knew that he shouldn’t. 

It was scary. He wasn’t in the habit of having thoughts he shouldn’t have. Rex had worked too hard to be perfect to have little slip-ups like that. Was this the defect shining through? It had to be. Only defects would have such defective thoughts. 

Darth Vader didn’t want to be Darth Vader. 

He…wanted to be a househusband. A father. The Sith treasured power, control, and dominance. Vader just wanted to be accepted. To walk in a crowd of others, indistinguishable from the rest, laughing and free. Whatever his dreams were, whatever he chased or fought for, that was the life he wanted. A life of joy and companionship.

Well, he’d figure out that the Empire was good eventually! He was just brainwashed by Jedi propaganda. Not even Lord Vader was immune to his twisted Jedi upbringing. Vader just hadn’t found the power of the Sith and the beauty of the Empire yet. No big deal. People changed! And Vader would change to want Darth Vader! 

“I want to be at your side,” Rex said. He winked. “Captain of your guard, eh?”

Vader beamed. “Sounds perfect!”

And if captain of the guard still had captain in the name - if it would keep Rex subordinate, adoring, obedient - then it was what Vader secretly wanted after all. 

“Lord Vader and I are best friends!”

Ponds scoffed, biting the bottlecap off and spitting it across the room. It hit Bly on the head, which had taken a lot of practice. “Natborns and clones can’t be friends. You sound delusional.”

“But clones can succeed at their missions,” Rex said gleefully. He opened another beer bottle - with his hand, like a normal person - and passed it to Cody without looking. Cody tossed aside his empty beer bottle and began drinking the new one. “And baby, I am killing this one. He told me that he trusts me more than anybody, you know that? Me, Lord Vader’s trusted confidante! Am I good at my job or what?”

“Or what,” Ponds muttered. 

Rex wasn’t entirely certain whose fault the clone bar was, but he wanted to shake their hand all the same. Almost no natborns even knew that it existed. The bar itself was boarded up like a nun’s underwear, and it was sealed tighter than an airlock. No natborns in, no natborns out. No clones in without leaving uproariously drunk. The bartenders were droids who had been programmed to secrecy, serving a permanently open bar. One of the droids could even cook, barely. 

Literally nobody knew the logistics of the thing or who had created it. It was one of the galaxy’s infinite little mysteries. Fox had once off-handedly mentioned that he knew. Then he hadn’t answered any follow-up questions. Then he fell asleep. Sometimes Rex really hated Fox, but only in the way you hated an existential crisis.

The bar area itself was robust, but it was uncouth for officers to get drunk in front of the masses. That was why there were a series of back rooms, similar to the little rooms for that karaoke thing the Mandalorians enjoyed so much. Rex and his honorary batchmates commandeered one and drank themselves into oblivion whenever possible. It was difficult to rope Cody and Fox into joining them, but Rex had blackmail on Cody and Wolffe usually just picked Fox up and dumped him into a speeder. Cody had been uncharacteristically eager to join them today, but Rex knew why. 

“Hey, I think we’re all killing it.” Wolffe kicked his heels up on the table cluttered with five different varieties and twenty different brands of alcohol. “I can’t believe I thought that fooling these morons might be difficult. Prime always made them out to be these telepathic and psychic demons who’ll always be trying to catch us out. But it’s like stealing a bolt from a protocol droid! Couldn’t be easier!”

“Speak for yourself.” Ponds was drinking almost as fast as Cody today - alright, not even almost, but he was trying. He looked haggard - alright, not nearly as haggard as Cody, but he was getting there. “Windu keeps treating me like I’m some puzzle he needs solving. He won’t stop asking questions about stupid shit. Like, how we were made, or why the Kamino don’t legally exist. Who cares!”

“He’s asking too many personal questions, right?” Wolffe said sympathetically. “Mine keeps on asking about my favorite fruit. Couldn’t believe I’d never eaten a fruit before.”

Ponds grunted, thumbing open a bottle. “We have not had a personal conversation so far and I hope we never have them. He’ll never discover that I have a personality. None of his damn business.”

“How are you going to kill him?” Rex asked, interested. “I’ve seen Windu in action. He’s just insane. I didn’t know humans could do what he does. No offense, but are you actually up to do that?”

“Of course I am,” Ponds snapped. But something about his tone made Rex think that he’d been asking himself the same questions. “I have plans in place. It’s thousands of us against one of him. I don’t care how many backflips he can do, one man can’t defeat a battalion of the Emperor’s elite.”

Fox, who had been sitting in the corner staring blankly at the wall, finally blinked. “Emperor’s going to take care of him personally.”

“Thank fuck .”

Wolffe snorted, taking a long swig of his whiskey. “Glad Ponds’ll have help. The Wolfpack won’t need it. You’ll never believe how trusting Koon is, it’s insane . He’s always out there, like, you know -” Wolffe waved an absent hand, summarizing the entirety of Plo Koon in a vague gesture. “Helping and being nice and giving advice and telling us how much we matter . How special we are or how much he cares about us. He’s practically asking for that knife in the back. Boy, it’s gonna feel great when the last thing he sees is me .”

“Why?” Rex asked blankly. 

“Because,” Wolffe said promptly. Then he stopped. Then he took a sip of his beer. Then he coughed. “Because he’s a damn dirty Jedi and I’m honored to kill every single one, alright? It’s not complicated. Fuck you.”

“Literally what did I even do -”

Bly, sitting on the floor with a beer cradled in his lap like a gap-toothed toddler, popped one of the nutty gelatin sweets in his mouth. “Are we talking about our Jedi? That’s cool. Guess what I’ve been doing with my Jedi?”

“We know,” everybody chorused. Even Fox.

Seriously. He had blown up the groupchat. At length. Nonstop. It was fucking horrendous. If Rex never had to hear another word about Aayla Secura again it would be too soon. Ponds was already begging Fox to move up the time table and let him take Secura out now. Save them all from Bly’s incessant fawning.

Rex pointed at Bly, letting the beer slosh in his bottle. “You’re gross. I still can’t believe you’re into that stuff. There’s too many fluids.”

“The fluids are awesome ,” Bly boasted. He popped another sweet in his mouth, masticating it with a shit-eating grin on his face. “You guys have got to try this shit out. It’s insane. Better than spice. When you finish you feel like a total god. And she says I’m great at it. Apparently clone stamina is awesome.”

“Shut up shut up shut up,” Ponds said. 

“Why are you even doing it?” Rex asked, fascinated. He opened up another beer bottle and passed it to Cody, who dropped his empty one on the floor. “You are gonna get in such massive trouble when somebody who gives a shit finds out.”

“Uh, fun? There’s literally nothing funner than sex. It’s totally worth it. And it’s advantageous, right?” Bly kicked back against the wall, crossing his hands behind his head and grinning. “I’ll wake up in bed next to her. I’ll get the order. I’ll snap her neck in a second. Like Wolffe said, it’s like stealing a bolt from a protocol droid. So when you think about it, it’s all for the mission. I’m like a super spy.”

Cody glared at Bly, bleary eyed. “So why’s she fucking you then?”

“She’s totally in love with me,” Bly boasted. “She’s head over heels. Like I said: super spy!”

He glanced at Fox, who was still counting ceiling tiles. He quickly looked down at the plate of sweets, popping another one in his mouth. 

“It’s called strategy, Ponds.” Wolffe grabbed a bottle of whiskey, unscrewing it with one thumb. “Stay frosty with Windu all you want. But us forward-thinking guys know that you gotta get close to get access to ‘em. With me and Plo - Koon, Plo Koon, his trust is the greatest weapon I got. So even if it looks like I’m getting close - it’s all a ruse, right?”

Wolffe glanced at Fox. Fox was still avidly counting ceiling tiles. 

“Right,” Bly said quickly. He looked at Fox from the corner of his eye, before looking away. “It’s part of a clone’s job to get close. So we can stab them in the back. Better.”

“Can’t relate.” Rex smugly passed Cody another beer. “Vader and I are actually tight. His trust’s my mission, and I’d never betray somebody as powerful and important as Lord Vader. Cody’s in the same boat.” Rex grinned, elbowing Cody. Who, despite all odds, was not drunk yet. “Eh? You’re really killing your mission for Lord Vader too, aren’t you?”

Cody was too dead inside to acknowledge his existence. Boy, that eyebrow twitch had sure gotten permanent. 

Bly perked up, shooting big bantha eyes at Cody. “Mission? Are you having sex with Qui-Gon Jinn too, Cody?”

“ I would rather fucking kill myself -”

Cody’s upcoming rant about how much he detested Qui-Gon fucking Jinn - and, to be fair, the guy was the most insufferable Jedi of all time - the door to the private room thumped open. 

Two clones walked directly inside. The occupants of the room froze. The invaders halted. 

Bacara surveyed the room, judging them all against his gimlet eye. He jerked a thumb at the door. “Out.”

“Why the fuck do we have to get out?” Wolffe screeched. “You’re the one who walked in here!”

Bacara and Neyo glanced at each other. They had one of their absolutely fucking inscrutable microexpression conversations. Then Bacara turned back towards them, sipping his beer. “The other rooms are occupied and we want this one. Git.”

Ponds and Wolffe immediately flipped them off. Rex would have, but he was a bit too scared of both of them to do that. Cody shot them his best unimpressed look, but that was his equivalent of flipping you off. Fox was seemingly asleep.

But Bly just perked up, holding out a beer to Neyo. “Hey, ori’vode , it’s been a while! We invited you to Jango’s remembrance day event, but you missed it!”

“We didn’t want to come,” Neyo said, straight faced. 

“Well, you’re welcome to join us now! We got plenty of booze, and it’s been forever since we’ve all been in the same room!” Bly stopped short. “Wait, why are we all in the same room?”

“Because there’s that giant-ass conference we’re having about the deployment of the new batch of clones,” Cody said flatly. “All of the officers and top generals not currently stationed on a planet were recalled to Coruscant so we can distribute the new forces.” Everybody stared at him. “Do none of you read a fucking briefing?”

“Only if you write them,” Wolffe said.

“As if you read Fox’s briefings.”

“He gets Stone to write those.”

Bacara sneered down at them, undoubtedly intending to press the ‘everybody get out just because I walked in’ matter. He totally would. Worst part was, they all had so much leftover terror of Bacara that they probably would evacuate. They would just go find a different private room and kick out the officers in there , who were undoubtedly lower ranked than them. Then those officers would find another room and etc. Eventually the lowest ranked officers would be SOL. This was the function of clone society. 

But Neyo just squinted at everybody, and then at the large plate of whimsically ordered sweets on the table. He walked over, grabbed a fistful of their food , dropped himself on the couch, and started eating it. It was immediately understood by everybody that Neyo would leave once he had eaten all of their sweets. Bacara, who was unbelievably indulgent of every single whim Neyo ever had in his entire life, sighed and sat down on the arm of the couch next to him. He held out a hand. Ponds hurriedly put a glass of whiskey in it. 

“You kids blow your missions yet?” Bacara asked. Everybody made faces. “You all got stupid important Jedis and jobs, right? Typical. I can’t believe you runts control most of the GAR.”

Wow, Rex did not miss how incredibly condescending Bacara was. He really thought he was as good as an Alpha, just because he had been trained personally by Alpha-17 and was probably the most insane badass in the entire army. Alpha-17 beat him out on kill factor but Bacara always won on bloodlust. 

Bacara and Neyo were the only survivors of Batch 1. The Alphas had been prototypes, but Batch 1 had been pilot tests: a much smaller group than the standard model Batch 2s. Batch 2s were still being manufactured, but apparently they were working on the next physiological model for the Batch 3s. Smaller decanting groups of five-to-six clones were still called batchmates, and they tended to be closer than the rest. Cody’s batch had apparently been decanted from entirely different batchmate groups, all among the very first decanted out of Batch 2, but they had been slotted into the command track so young that they just called each other batchmates. 

Most of the Batch 1s had been on Geonosis or the very early fights. Which had all been catastrophic losses. Nobody had known what they were doing. Apparently a ton hadn’t even survived Kamino. Rex once heard off-handedly that the Batch 2s had been made to be much more mentally resilient than the Batch 1s. Which tracked. They had probably all been too unstable to live. 

“I’m the right hand man of Lord Vader,” Rex said quickly. “The Emperor -”

“Shut it, don’t care.” Bacara relaxed in his seat, kicking his heels up on the low table and scattering empty beer bottles. “This entire army’s an embarrassment. What are we, fifteen months since Geonosis? Not even halfway in? And the discipline of the men’s gone to shit. Can you believe I heard some shinies talking to each other about their Jedi was cool ?”

“Ugh,” Ponds said, picking at his thumbnail. “Shinies, am I right?”

“We’ve had three deserters in the last three months.” Bacara was working himself up into a rant, anger steadily growing. Fox blinked. “Three! There should be zero deserters! We weren’t built to abandon our posts. Some of the men are out there getting cold feet. Because their Jedi are nice .”

“Maybe they’re just surprised.” Cody strained to take another beer from Rex’s regretful forbidding grasp. He was doing it for Cody’s own good. “A Jedi’s the first nice natborn most of us have ever met.”

“Nice is weakness,” Bacara said. Everybody around him fervently nodded. “Kindness, compassion, charity - they’re words of the weak meant to justify being weak. They celebrate weakness. A real Mandalorian would want to strangle the nice on sight. Not feel sorry for them.”

“Lord Vader’s tough, a real strong leader,” Rex eagerly jumped in. “The Empire’s going to be as tough and fair as him one day, right?”

Bacara pointed sternly at him. “He’ll only be as strong as his clone commander. Don’t embarrass us by showing weak manda .” Rex nodded, fighting the urge to salute. “This room’s a bit more competent than the rest of the foot soldiers out there. You all know better than to buy into their nicey-nice crap, right?”

“Oh yeah,” Wolffe said immediately, “I’m gonna use Koon’s weakness against him.”

“I better get an award when I kill Windu,” Ponds added, a little loudly. “He’s the worst out of all of them. I’m just pissed I’m not allowed to kill him yet.”

“Secura’s never gonna see me coming,” Bly swore. “It’s all for the sake of the Empire, right?”

“That’s right. It’s for the sake of a government that will let us do what we want.” Bacara tipped his beer into his mouth, snickering. “I’ve been fantasizing about it lately. How great it’s going to feel when I wrap my hands around Ki Adi Mundi’s neck and squeeze. He’s just so annoying and pretentious and nice . Vermin, all of them. It’s gonna feel good to clean this galaxy up a bit and take out the trash.” 

Neyo popped another piece of candy into his mouth, bored. “The officers need to be good examples for the men. Our weakness is the Empire’s weakness. You should all be monitoring your men to make sure that they aren’t acting seditious.”

“It’s about discipline,” Bacara complained. “Jango never would have let any of this happen. Jango was more passionate about exterminating Jedi than anybody. After the work he put into us, the slightest ounce of mercy would shame him.”

Everybody nodded. Everybody wanted to nod the most. Nobody wanted to be seen nodding the least. Nobody had a very strong idea of what would happen to the person in the room who cared the least about taking out the trash, but they were all certain that they didn’t want to be the guy. 

The only ones who stayed silent were Fox and Cody. Bacara’s eyes skipped over Fox - what were you going to do, ask Fox if he was being loyal? Literally Fox ? - and landed on Cody. He took another long drink from the glass, pointing it at him. “What about you, Kote? Weren’t you given an assignment to be a caretaker for the young lord?”

Wolffe pounced on the topic change. “Yeah, Codes, how’s the babysitting going?”

Cody pointed at the five beer bottles on the ground. Cody, obviously, wanted to fucking kill himself.

Bly made a sympathetic face. “It can’t be that bad, can it? Quinlan’s spunky, but he’s always trying hard to impress me. It’s - annoying.”

“It’s a very prestigious job,” Rex informed the room. “The young lord is going to be one of the most pivotal players in the Empire. He’s only thirteen now, but the Emperor’s already thinking of him as a potential future apprentice. The Emperor decided that Cody would be the best influence on him.” Rex elbowed Cody, grinning. “And he needs the good influence, right?”

Bacara raised an eyebrow, downing the whiskey like water. “I’m not surprised that Kote was asked to do it. You always acted like every snot-nosed brat in Kamino was your job. You were adopting pathetic life forms all over the place.” He pointed at Rex. “Like that one.”

“You are unnecessarily mean -”

“Cody always said that somebody had to look out for ‘em.” Bly tried to nab a sweet from the plate. Neyo slapped his hand away. Bly sulkily retreated. “‘Cause nobody but a clone would ever look out for a clone, right? Cody always used to say that.” Bacara gave Cody an unimpressed but amused look. “Oh, right, ori’vod said that first.”

“Guess the Emperor figured that they had the best babysitter in the GAR right there,” Wolffe joked. Hopefully. Rex couldn’t decide if clones were wasted as babysitters or if they would make the best babysitters ever. Both, maybe? “Can’t be that hard a job, though. Monk babies are probably perfectly behaved all the time. Right?” Cody popped open another beer, dead-eyed. “...right?”

Slowly, excruciatingly, Cody said, “He is the worst child I have met in my life.”

Rex patted his back sympathetically. “He’s not that bad. He’s pretty fun, actually.”

“You say that,” Cody gritted out through clenched teeth, “because you are not in charge of keeping him alive .”

“Yeah, his death wish is what makes him fun.”

Shockingly, Neyo stopped his ruthless plundering of their food long enough to chime in. “What’s a thirteen year old doing with a death wish?”

“Yeah,” Wolffe said, “thought Neyo- ori’vod had cornered the market on thirteen year olds with death wishes.” Bacara threw a bottle at his head, and he only narrowly dodged. “Hey, watch -”

“Being in charge of the young lord’s safekeeping is a great honor.” Cody said the words with such incredible emphasis, as if he was trying to carve them into his own body. “He will be an incredible asset to the Empire and it is my duty to prepare him as a future Sith apprentice. I would… never complain …about my sacred duty to the Empire.”

“Ow,” Bly said. “That bad?”

“Much worse,” Rex confirmed. 

Bly’s sympathy was the last straw. Cody groaned into his hands, and Rex could almost hear the release valve popping. “He has decided that it is his life’s goal to discover every single secret a clone could conceivably keep. He has stopped at nothing to achieve this. He is in the vents . He is in the supply closets . He is underneath the beds . He is in the fucking trash compactor .”

“Like the trash?” Ponds asked blankly. 

“He has decided it’s his job as padawan to impress his teachers into actually teaching him.” The entire room had been trained by Jango Fett, so they all nodded as if this was obvious. “His ridiculously negligent teachers, who think it is funny to let a thirteen year old boy vanguard every attack, throw him at the largest enemies on the field, lead every attack squadron, fly a starfighter -”

“Vader says it’s very normal for children to fly starfighters,” Rex said, affronted. 

“The most reckless battalion in the GAR has found the single most eager to please child in the Jedi Temple. He will do anything for their approval. So he is out-performing Anakin Skywalker on reckless stunts .” Cody gave Rex a glare as dark as night. “And somebody is encouraging every single one.”

“I’m the fun one,” Rex informed the room. “Part of the mission.”

“Anakin Skywalker can do all of the reckless stunts he wants,” Cody snarled, and almost the entire room quailed. “He is the most powerful Jedi in the galaxy. This mildly talented thirteen year old is as fragile as flimsi and is attempting stunts twice as dangerous. And Skywalker is encouraging and cheering him on every single time.”

“And the vent thing,” Bly added helpfully. 

“ And the vent thing .” Cody popped open another beer, potentially in self-defense. “I want to tie him to a chair. I want to lock him in a room. I have an army to run, the most annoying Jedi in the galaxy to manage, Darth Vader calling me ‘no fun’ every other day, and Rex to worry about. I do not have the time or the energy to stop a child desperate for attention from flinging himself down an elevator shaft.”

Neyo abruptly stood up. The motion was sudden and strange, although it shouldn’t have been. The treats tray was cleared, and there was nothing left in the room that interested him. “My fists itch. Let’s go find a fight, Back.”

“Oh, hell yeah, been a minute since I got some energy out. Planetside’s boring.” Bacara stood up, carelessly dropping the glass on the ground and letting it shatter. The dregs of booze dripped from the sharp corners and stained the tile. “Go ahead, I’ll catch up in a second.”

“We can’t pay you two for bounty hunting,” Fox said, raising a thousand questions. Neyo adopted a considering look. “I don’t care what you do, just don’t make it my problem.”

“We clean up our own messes,” Neyo said. 

He nodded at Bacara and left. Every eye in the room swiveled on Bacara, who casually sipped his beer and waited ten precise seconds. Then fifteen. 

Finally, he stood up too. He walked towards the door, but he stopped in front of Cody first. Cody looked up at him, a little leery, as Bacara sat down on the table in front of him. Rex evacuated the vicinity, leaving Cody to his fate. It had been nice knowing him while he lasted. 

“You’re a little asshole, you know that?”

Cody made a face. “I’m sorry, are we six -”

“No, you listen to me. Pay real good fucking attention.” Bacara constantly sounded like he wanted to kill you. He didn’t sound like he wanted to kill Cody any more than usual. But something in his tone made Cody sit up anyway, and made the rest of the room hold their breaths. “Your duty is to take care of that kid, and you are half-assing it.” 

Rex puffed himself up, leaning forward. “Hey, nobody out there’s more dedicated than Cody -”

Bacara put a hand on his head, shoving him away. “Did the Emperor tell you to keep the kid alive, Kote? Or did he tell you to be his caretaker?”

Insanely, Fox yawned and weighed in, betraying them all. “Caretaker.”

“Taking care of a child is more than keeping them alive. It’s more than mopping up after somebody else’s messes. It is protecting that child. If you don’t protect that child, then the galaxy is going to eat him alive and rip him to shreds.”

“I am doing the best I can,” Cody protested, a little weakly. “He’s the one who keeps on throwing himself in danger just because he wants attention.”

 “You’re sitting here whining and bitching and complaining because a kid who is not being protected is in danger. And whose fault is that, huh?” Bacara leaned in, and Cody finally quieted. “He’s not getting approval or attention, whose fault is that? Do you really think it’s normal for a kid not to care if he lives or dies? You need to step up. The fact that you’re whining about this at all is a failure.”

“Why am I the one who has to manage his entire life?” Cody snapped, heedless of Bacara’s dangerous look. “Why am I the one who has to change and not the natborns? Shouldn’t they be looking after their own damn kid?”

“That’s exactly what you don’t want,” Bacara said shortly. “You can’t wait for the natborns to get involved. Fuck, stop ‘em from getting involved. You know why? Because natborns are evil, nasty, selfish, lazy, and weak . Do you know what they do to kids who aren’t protected, who nobody cares about? ‘Cause Neyo and I do.”

The awkward reality of Neyo settled over the room like a charge of electricity. Nobody looked at each other. Cody looked a little shaken. It was the first time Rex had seen him shaken in a very long time. 

“Jedi are vermin. You think the natborns we grew up with are bad? Those are the good guys. And after everything those cunts did to us, what they did to fucking - because they could get away with it. You think the Jedi wouldn’t do the same to a kid who nobody gives a shit about?”

“I’m just a clone,” Cody said, well and thoroughly rattled by Bacara’s words. Or maybe just the look in Bacara’s eyes. He could get wild sometimes. “I can give as much of a shit as I want, the rest of the galaxy isn’t going to care. My power is extremely limited. What am I supposed to do to protect him?”

“Stop making excuses and start taking some damn action.” Bacara stood up from the table, sneering down at Cody. Cody stiffened, clearly fighting the urge to lean back. “Fight dirty if you have to. Get underhanded. It’ll be you against the filthy vermin, so do whatever it takes. Everything and anything you do will be the right thing to do, because it's protecting your child. Got it?” 

Cody nodded fervently, eyes wide. “Got it.” 

“Good. When you see Neyo again, don’t disappoint him.”

With that parting remark - betraying the reason why he had said anything at all - Bacara left the room, slamming the door behind him. Rex and his batchmates were left sitting in silence, stewing in the cold shock of Bacara and Neyo’s vicious reality. Cody looked a little traumatized.

Most of the time, Rex considered a day three weeks after that point as where it began: the day Cody gathered the 501st and 212th and, frazzled beyond belief, told them that they would be educating the young lord in Mandalorian values and culture for the mission . Nobody had understood, but Cody’s increasingly specific instructions had been too much fun to complain about. 

But sometimes Rex thought that this was where it had started: the back of a bar, sagging with drunk men and alcohol, brought still and awkward by an unwelcome reminder of the weighty reality nobody liked talking about. The horrified look on Cody’s face as Bacara broke a terrifying image over his head. 

Maybe it was just all Bacara’s fault. 

But what kind of dick would say that?

Chapter Text

They called it a game. 

Clones had euphemisms for everything, and speaking in coded double-talk was as instinctual as breathing and shooting. They also referred to it as ‘the bet’, or ‘the wager’. Their code for the Jedi was ‘the 66th battalion’, with whom they shared ‘a friendly rivalry’. The ‘commander of the 66th’ was usually a euphemism for Qui-Gon Jinn. Even when speaking in Mando’a they avoided using specific names or battalions - names were the same in any language - so everybody usually got some descriptive nickname. Beardy was the nicest one for Qui-Gon. At a certain point Obi-Wan had picked up the nickname for Qui-Gon too, which was both mortifying and hilarious. Top ten moments of Rex’s life included the day Obi-Wan had rolled his eyes and said, ‘Old Beardy’s talking my ear off about Jedi nonsense again’. 

They had called it a game because it was a game. A lighthearted competition between them, and a high-stakes game against the opposing 66th battalion. The allegory had never entirely settled on if Obi-Wan was the board, the game piece, or the prize, but the specifics weren’t important. They knew that it was a risky game with a life as the wager, and they took it as seriously as Obi-Wan’s life deserved, but the 501st weren’t in the habit of losing. Arrogantly, they had decided that the 501st couldn’t lose. 

The game had two important parts: separating Obi-Wan from the Jedi, and bringing Obi-Wan closer to the 501st. It was an engaging difference from the norm. The 501st normally attacked through overwhelming, decisive force - they didn’t deal with these long-term and more subtle invasion tactics. But they all knew how to do them, and the 501st excelled in everything they did.

They barely had to even do anything. They hadn’t said a single word outright. Just suggestions. That was all. Implications. They left Obi-Wan free to color in the negative space. He was such a smart kid. So quick on the uptake. He always understood what they were really saying. And if what they said was thoroughly uncomplimentary to the Jedi - well, Cody had decided to train him like Jango Fett had trained them. Five times slower and more gently, because natborns were cute at best. But Jango Fett had never slacked on teaching them where the evil in the galaxy laid. It would be irresponsible as ori’vode to do any differently. 

Sometimes the implications were misleading. Sometimes they weren’t true. So? The mission was true. Obi-Wan was better off not interacting with the Jedi, that was true. Training him up as a vod was best for him. That was true too. So what if they turned reality around a little bit, maybe inverted those things. They usually don’t tell him a lie with their mouths, so they weren’t honestly lying to him. Mostly. 

You rarely lied in games. You bluff, hid, redirected, and mislead. That was how you won. The 501st were highly invested in Obi-Wan’s safety and skill and happiness. They were playing against the Jedi, and the 501st did not lose against the Jedi. That was their whole thing.

With the power of a few insinuations and implications, emotionally isolating him was easy. Physically isolating him was easier. Jango Fett’s dumbed-down training regime took up the vast majority of his time. Cody allowed and encouraged him to maintain his lightsaber practice, since lightsabers were utterly broken and his master was highly invested in Obi-Wan’s martial skill. Framing the Jedi Temple as an unsafe place, other Jedi as hostile people - acceptance, affection, pride was only found here, Obi-Wan, only with us - did the rest of the work in keeping him away from the Jedi.

“One day we’re gonna be able to brag about this,” Attie boasted. “Obi-Wan’s going to publicly turn against the Jedi, just watch. At this rate it’ll be his idea to join the Empire!”

“Wouldn’t that be a victory?” Gunner said excitedly. “He’ll join the uprising against the Jedi all by himself.”

Cameron snickered. “Maybe we can get him thinking it was his idea.”

Everybody laughed, Rex included. 

Rex joined in on the Obi-Wan Game as frequently as he could - he liked training Obi-Wan in Mando fighting techniques the most, so he called all the sparring slots - but he had his own priorities. The Obi-Wan Game was a far more extensive, obvious, and entertaining version of Rex’s own mission. You could not call it The Darth Vader game, so Rex privately just called it the Skywalker Mission. 

That was easy too. The Emperor was taking point on the Skywalker Mission, so Rex was just playing back-up. His job was straightforward. 

“I’ll cover for you with General Jinn, sir. Tell Ms. Padme hi for me!”

“Those senators don’t have the sense you gave that mouse droid. Why are they in charge of everything?”

“Man, I’m achin’ to put my fist through a Seppie skull.”

“General Jinn was being so unfair.” 

“Don’t beat yourself up, sir, they deserved it.” 

“Great job, sir!”

“Badass, sir!”

Ridiculous. Most of it was just being nice to the guy. Being supportive and encouraging. Rex would have done that anyway. Skywalker deserved it. He was just cool . 

The most crucial bit was constantly encouraging violence. Which, again, Rex would do that anyway. Violence was great. Sometimes Rex thought that a few usages of violence here or there wasn’t quite well placed, but - well, it was Vader , he could do whatever he wanted. It was his right. 

And those Jedi and politicians were being unfair to him. Always questioning or second-guessing him. Didn’t they know who they were talking to? He was Darth Vader ! 

“They have no respect for you,” Rex groused, keeping up with Skywalker as they stalked away from the local governor’s office. “They’re the ones begging for our help, we’re the ones rescuing them, and they give you that level of disrespect? How about a little gratitude, right?”

“I know!” Skywalker cried, throwing up his hands. “You’re always right, Rex, it’s about respect! How about a little respect for me as a general, right? As the guy saving them? There’s no gratitude at all!”

Rex scowled, picking up his pace a little. Skywalker walked so fast. And he was so tall. Sometimes Rex looked like an idiot keeping up with him. “You should just leave ‘em to the Seppies. See how fast they change their tune.”

Skywalker sighed, pulling out that old Jedi calm breathing he only slapped on half-heartedly. “No, Rex. They’re dicks, but they’re still planets of the Republic. It’s not about helping them, it’s about helping the Republic. Even if they do get on my nerves.”

Whoops. Pushed too hard. Rex injected embarrassment into his voice. “Sorry, sir. Got carried away. Man, it just frustrates me when they treat you like that.” 

Skywalker grinned at him. “You’re my number one defender, Captain.”

And Rex grinned back at him. “You’re my number one general, so fair seems fair.”

Seriously. Natborns were so stupid. This was Darth Vader they were talking about. They hadn’t even seen the maneuver he pulled in the last dogfight. No other sentient could have woven between those missiles like that, hit the enemy at that precise weak point. And a few months ago, when he flew a stolen starfighter into a Separatist factory and blew the whole thing sky high - it was just so damn cool.

He obviously wasn’t finished baking yet. Skywalker still had moments of weakness, maybe even moments of humanity - when he confided in Rex about his insecurities, pain, fears. Even his traumas. He told Rex all of it. He was a pretty damaged guy. Sensitive, you know. 

“One day, General, you’ll overcome all of that,” Rex told him earnestly. “You’ll grow into the strongest in the galaxy. None of these things are going to matter anymore.”

Skywalker had just blinked tiredly at him. He was leaning against the wall in the training salle, still sweaty from their work-out. “I used to think that was true. If I just got stronger, did better, then it would stop hurting. But it’s just getting worse. And the more powerful I get, the more damaged I feel.” 

Rex squeezed his shoulder, adopting a supportive and earnest look. “The strongest don’t worry about anything. They’re blaster-proof. They stand above everybody, nothing hurts ‘em. Once you get there, you’ll see what I mean. Got it?”

Skywalker squinted at Rex. “Who’s the strongest person you know?”

“What about the Chancellor?” Rex asked innocently. “He’s the most powerful guy in the galaxy, and he’s the toughest old bird I’ve ever seen.”

Skywalker’s expression immediately cleared, and he straightened a little. “That’s for sure. You know, Rex, I think you’re really onto something.”

Hell yeah he was.

The Skywalker Mission was simpler than the Obi-Wan Game. Skywalker was an incredibly straightforward person, and Obi-Wan was anything but. He was a deceitful, sneaky kid - always popping up at your elbow with a piece of confidential intel, secret, or blackmail - but even outside of his hobbies he didn’t always make sense. Sometimes he’d get really excited after a battle, and other times he’d get really surly. Sometimes the Jedi advanced ground in the game and Obi-Wan struggled for Qui-Gon’s attention, while other times he actively snubbed it. He got frustrated when the Jedi didn’t approve of him and then turned around and bragged that he’d vomit if he had it. His moods were as capricious as the tides, and not nearly as reliable. 

Bly had solemnly informed him that this was called ‘being a teenager’. As if he would know?!

But there was something else different about the Obi-Wan Game. Maybe because it was a passion project. Rex didn’t have a damn file telling him everything to do and say. There was no briefing on Obi-Wan; no detailed breakdown of his psychology. No road map. Rex tried hard to do everything right, and he found himself failing every time. 

Was this how Jango had felt? As if he was doing everything he could, trying to shape this clay into a soldier who would survive and make the Empire proud, and the clay just kept jumping and jerking out of his hands? 

He was taking this too seriously. Appo told Rex to just focus on being his friend, play the rules of the game, and try not to get him killed. It should have been that easy. Why wasn’t it that easy?

“Those damn dirty Jedi just don’t deserve him,” Voca growled. “They’re dangerous to him, when you think about it. You heard him talking to Captain Rex about those teachings . They’re poisoning his mind with their evil magic.”

The other officers around the mess hall table exchanged uneasy looks, nodding seriously. Rex masticated his tofu. 

Vill leaned in, lowering his voice. “We’re exterminating the entire Order because those magic lessons infect the victim with evil, right? No matter how old they are? He’s in active danger.”

Bow set his fork down, looking a little sick. “But that’s why we’re separating him from the filth, right? So he’s safe?”

“It’s funny as well,” Jesse pointed out, as if this was an incredibly important point. “Did you hear his impression of Oppo Rancis? It was great.”

They ignored him. Voca just looked grim, cutting through his rations with a sharp slice of a knife. “He’s still talking with those little traitor friends of his. We’ll have to try and limit that.”

“We can’t control what he does once when we’re on leave and between deployments,” Rex pointed out mildly. “We can ask Nemo to run interference for us when he’s at the Temple, but there’s only so much that he can do.”

Vaughn hummed, tilting his head. “How do we get him away from the Temple, then?”

“It’s not just the Temple,” Vill said. “Every natborn’s the problem. They’re always trying to infect him with some heretic idea or another. Isn’t the best tactic to limit contact with every natborn?”

Rex sipped his powdered blue milk. “Give him supervised contact with the worst natborns you can find.” That was a classic part of his Skywalker Mission playbook. “Reinforce what we’re saying about everybody but us being evil.” 

“Won’t be hard,” Vaughn muttered. “Most of the natborns we meet are either politicians or incompetent local militias.”

“That’s a great idea, Captain!” Bow said. “You’re the expert in this, aren’t you?”

He was. The tactic was very useful. Skywalker had gone from a mixed but optimistic view of other natborns to a basic expectation that every other natborn was an idiot, asshole, or both. He was pleasantly surprised a lot of the time - in Rex’s experience, most people were, like, fine - but reflexively approaching others in bad faith did a lot of work in souring one’s opinion on sentient beings. Skywalker was growing to hate and resent a lot of the galaxy. With enough work, Obi-Wan could too. 

A defective thought leaked into Rex’s brain. It was louder than he would like, stronger than it should be. He had those thoughts sometimes, he couldn’t exactly help being defective - but this one was thornier than usual. It felt like a burr sticking in his mind.

I don’t want that for Obi-Wan.

It was good for Skywalker, obviously! The Emperor had given Rex the pathway towards Skywalker’s power and greatness, and Rex was guiding Skywalker on that path. Even if - it was good, it was obviously good. But the Emperor hadn’t laid out that plan for Obi-Wan. And for - for anyone else , anybody but Darth Vader - Rex would say that the plan was…

A smiling face was imprinted behind his eyelids. Anakin Skywalker’s youthful and happy face, unlined with stress and exhaustion. A young man who dreamed of being a househusband and pool parties with friends. 

Rex hadn’t seen glimpses of that man in a while. Which was good. For Darth Vader. But in Obi-Wan…

A grinning face of a young teenager. Obi-Wan Kenobi’s round and childish face, still innocent. Before his greatest dream was beating Rex in a wrestling match and becoming the most fearsome Mandalorian. What did he dream of? What did he want before the 501st had gripped him so tightly? Rex didn’t even know.

He didn’t even know what Obi-Wan used to want. 

“I guess I am,” Rex said. 

The blue milk tasted like ashes in his mouth. 

The defective thoughts rampaged through his mind unchecked for another three minutes, after which he spent ten minutes beating himself up for even thinking them. What was wrong with him? What would Jango say if he found out about this? 

Being a Mandalorian wasn’t given to you. You had to earn it. Rex had to prove it, every day and second of his life, that he was worthy to be a Mandalorian. To be worth the years of effort and time and energy that Jango had invested in them. 

And Rex had to work harder than anybody else. No wonder he was having these thoughts. Rex was naturally defective. There was something inherently wrong with him, something that was making him think - think that crap . Thinking that he didn’t want Skywalker to become Darth Vader, those insane thoughts, it was broken , it was proof that he was broken .

He couldn’t allow this. What the 501st was doing - it was just a game, it was just for fun. It was saving Obi-Wan from the vermin traitors. Those parasites were preying on the youngest brother, filling his mind with lies and trying to force him into becoming like them . Shouldn’t Rex do everything he could to prevent that? If he didn’t, was he even a real Mandalorian?

Rex was naturally wrong. He had to work three times as hard as everybody else just to be good enough. If the defects were showing now, then he’d just have to work harder to overcome them. He’d be a failure of a Mandalorian if he didn’t. And if Rex wasn’t a Mandalorian, he had no idea what the fuck he was. 

The other officers had moved onto spitballing different ways to save Obi-Wan from the Jedi. Rex had barely noticed, too locked into his thoughts. He slammed his fork on the table, making them all jump.

“The barracks!” Rex hissed. “Let’s allow him into the barracks. If we let him into our living area, he’ll never have to return to the Temple at all. From the battleships to the barracks and back again - natborn contact would be at a minimum, wouldn’t it?”

The other men brightened. Jesse snapped his fingers. “That’s a great idea, Captain!”

“Captain really is the expert,” Vaughn said admiringly. “You must be the best in the GAR at this.”

Voca slapped him on the back, making him choke. “That’s our captain. We’ll look out for Obi-Wan, eh?”

Rex exhaled, shaky and thin. Then he grinned. “Of course I’m the best, I’m your captain. So how are we going to bring the guys around to this, eh?”

It had been a great idea. Obi-Wan had loved it. Being let into the Forbidden Zone had made him so happy. The sight of his grinning face as he ran around the barracks for the first time poking his head into every supply closet and into every dormitory - casing the place, obviously - lingered behind Rex’s eyelids for a long time. 

Winning the game was pathetically easy when the enemy didn’t even know they were playing. 

Didn’t feel fair, sometimes. 

Months later, Rex barged into Cody’s barracks dormitory in a fit of formwork-induced ennui only to find the snoring body of Obi-Wan Kenobi.

Rex and Cody were taking care of last-minute formwork necessary to requisition new starfighters, which was somewhat akin to pulling a krayt dragon’s teeth. They were messaging each other in steadily increasing mutual frustration until Rex decided fuck it and walked a solid ten minutes from the 501st barracks to the adjunct 212th barracks so he could barge into Cody’s room and work through the forms together. Cody would figure it out and they could both sleep. It was 0100 hours and his eyes felt gritty from the lack of sleep. 

When he walked into Cody’s dorm, he thought he was hallucinating. Cody was hunched over his desk squinting at his datacomm and wanting to kill himself, which was completely expected. Less expected was the second cot in the room, pressed against the wall a few feet from Cody’s bed. A thick blanket did little to disguise the shape of a sleeping Obi-Wan. 

Rex halted in the doorway, and Cody outright jumped to his feet. He relaxed when he saw that it was only Rex, only to bristle again when he saw Rex looking at Obi-Wan. 

Cody’s eyebrows tilted dangerously - ‘if this isn’t important I’m feeding you to the Dark Eels again’. 

Rex jabbed a finger at Obi-Wan, eyebrows raised - ‘when were you planning on telling me that you were holding sleepovers with the young lord?’. 

Cody mimed the slither of a Dark Eel with one hand. Rex jabbed another insistent finger at Obi-Wan.

Cody exhaled through his nose before gesturing at Rex to leave the room. They both exited into the hallway as silently as possible, and Cody shut the door behind him with a soft click. 

Then Cody rounded on him, uncomfortable and angry and thoroughly caught doing something he wasn’t supposed to do. It took a few seconds to even identify the look. Cody didn’t do things he wasn’t supposed to do - or, rather, he didn’t get caught doing them. Rex had to wonder if this was the first time that anybody had ever caught Cody out on anything. Over Obi-Wan Kenobi, of all things. 

“I know I taught you to knock,” Cody hissed. “What’s so important?”

“I just wanted to go over the formwork. But, like, fuck that. What the hell, Codes?”

Cody drew himself up, stiff and awkward. “I don’t have to explain myself.” Rex made the most incredulous eyebrows a humanoid could make. “It’s fine. It’s nothing. It’s none of your business.”

“You can call the young lord a lot of things, but not those three things. Were you two having a sleepover?” An ancient memory bubbled in the back of Rex’s mind, white-tinged and sterile. “Like you and I used to have? When I would get worked up at 0100 convinced they were going to decommission me?”

“Yes, exactly like that. Kind of. Nothing like that. Actually.” Cody leaned against the wall, folding his arms and fighting to keep his shoulders from hunching. Rex had never seen him so defensive - or like his hand had gotten caught in the ration replicator. “His visions have grown out of control lately. I’m keeping myself close at hand to intercept them before the disturbance reaches Jinn or Skywalker. It’s just opsec. Don’t give me that look.”

The sheer levels of denial were getting both kind of sad and very funny. Cody really was the definition of a perfectionist overachiever. Rex admired him like nothing else, but he could get pretty stubborn about it at times. 

“Did I see his module datapad on the nightstand?”

Immediately, Cody said, “I don’t see how that’s relevant.”

“Was he just…hanging out in your room?”

Just as quickly, Cody said, “You hang out with him in the training salle. Fives and Tup hang out with him in the ship bay. I don’t see the issue.”

There was a slight issue. The difference between the training salle, ship bay, and Cody’s room was the fact that other sentients had seen the training salle and ship bay. The grand total list of people who had ever stepped foot in Cody’s personal dormitory was - well, Rex thought it had basically just been Rex. But it was Rex and Obi-Wan. 

But Cody was clearly deeply uninterested in exploring the topic further, and he seemed so genuinely uncomfortable by the matter that Rex decided to be a beneficent younger brother and drop the topic for once. He desperately wanted to pull Cody’s ear over this and tease him into oblivion, but there was something about Cody in this moment that seemed strange and fragile. 

In infinite grace and kindness, Rex awkwardly added, “It’s alright if you are, ori’vod . Everyone knows how close you two are.” Cody tensed every muscle, and Rex hastily added, “You top every leaderboard in the game! Brag about yourself for once, you’re blowing everyone else out of the water. Getting him to sleep away from the Temple’s an extra hundred points easy.”

A strange expression flashed across Cody’s body, but Rex didn’t have time to interpret it. A breathy scream echoed from inside the dorm, and Cody disappeared in a flash. Rex almost tripped over his feet in his haste to follow Cody inside.

They knew Obi-Wan had been having some killer nightmares lately. They had all been briefed on them. Apparently the kid could see the future, which was both insane on a personal level and highly inconvenient on a logistical level. The current playbook was to deny, deny, deny. Cody was taking point in rerouting them, but they all had a responsibility to brush him off and act as if he was making them up. The game was truly a team effort. ‘It only works if we all work it’, as one of Bly’s infinite motivational slogans proclaimed.

But Rex hadn’t known they were like this. Obi-Wan was screaming as if he’d been shot in the gullet. He was twisting and writhing in bed, trying to push his dead limbs into fleeing the monster. Rex could already tell that he was crying. 

Then Cody was there. He was crouched at Obi-Wan’s bedside, immediately grabbing his hand and squeezing it tightly. With his other hand, he smoothed back his limp ginger hair, trying to calm him from the jerking and twisting. Cody spoke to him in a low voice, almost inaudible even to Rex’s ears, repeating platitudes about how it was going to be alright. That it was just a dream.

It was an unsettlingly intimate moment. Rex had seen Cody vulnerable, had seen him close to death and on the precipice of misery, but he’d never seen him like this. It wasn’t greater or lesser, just different. On the most familiar face of all, Rex saw something he had never seen before.

Without looking away, Cody made a hand signal to Rex, and Rex immediately moved out of Obi-Wan’s line of sight. It was just in time: Obi-Wan’s eyes flew open, and he jerked forward as if he was lurching away from an enemy. 

“Siri!” Obi-Wan screamed. “Siri, don’t -”

“Obi-Wan, you’re alright. You’re awake.” Cody put a firm hand on his chest, gently pushing him back onto the bed. “It was just a dream.”

“A - a - a…” 

And Obi-Wan fell back onto the bed, burying his head in the thin pillow. For a second, Rex thought Cody was going to stroke back Obi-Wan’s hair again, but he drew back almost completely. Obi-Wan was still hyperventilating, and Cody watched in silence as Obi-Wan fought for control of his breathing. 

Quietly, but unmistakably firm, Cody said, “Is this because of Commander Reeft.” 

It was phrased as a question, but it wasn’t. Obi-Wan just buried his head deeper into the pillow, swallowing wet breaths. 

“The rest of your friends are fine, Obi-Wan. Do you need to call Quinlan and see for certain?”

“Quinlan’s fine,” Obi-Wan muttered. “Don’t wanna wake him up…”

Cody glanced at Rex and twitched an eyebrow. It was an excruciatingly familiar eyebrow, and it roughly translated to ‘Dammit, Bly’. 

Then Cody looked back at Obi-Wan, and this time he did put a reassuring hand on his back. “Let’s try to go back to sleep.” 

“I’m so sick of this, Cody,” Obi-Wan said into the pillow, so desperately miserable. “I can’t take much more of this.”

“Yes, you will.” Cody spoke with such surety, boundless conviction in Obi-Wan’s ability to handle anything. That was familiar to Rex. “You’ll bear it as long as it must be borne. But I’ll be here in the meantime, alright?”

Obi-Wan didn’t say anything. 

For the first time, Cody’s voice was tinged with a hint of uncertainty. “Obi-Wan? You know I’ll be here, right?”

“I saw you the other day.” Everybody knew what Obi-Wan meant, and both Rex and Cody froze. “You were looking up at me. I thought I was angry. But I was just sad…I’ve never felt sad like that.”

Insanely vague. Cody sighed, and withdrew from Obi-Wan completely. “Will you be able to go back to bed?” 

“Yeah…”

“Then get some rest. We’ll do something fun tomorrow.” Cody paused, clearly struggling to conceive of fun. “We’ll…train.” Obi-Wan mumbled something unimpressed about how they train every day. “It’ll be fun training.” Obi-Wan tilted his head and squinted at Cody. “Fine. You’ll do something fun with Rex and I’ll look the other way. Happy?” Obi-Wan muttered something too low to hear. “Of course he does. He doesn’t shut up about you. I’m sure he’ll have something stupidly dangerous planned to do with you tomorrow.” Obi-Wan muttered something else. A little exasperated, Cody said, “He likes hanging out with the both of you. Getting drinks with the general is no replacement for training with you. Haven’t we always prioritized you? All of us?” Obi-Wan grunted. “Don’t lose faith in us now. So get some rest, alright?”

“I’m sorry, Cody.”

“It’s no burden. I’ll be here.”

“Okay. Thanks.”

“Get some rest.”

Cody stood up, and Obi-Wan turned to face the wall. Cody jerked his head, and they both slipped out again. 

Rex had no smart remark this time. Cody’s body silently screamed that he would make Rex regret his entire life if he said a single word about this. Rex would, but he didn’t even know what remark to make. 

In the end, he had to say what he was obligated to say.

“You’re out of control, Cody.”

Cody leaned against the hallway wall, folding his arms and looking away.

“I defended your decision to train him as a Mandalorian,” Rex said sharply. “I backed your play one hundred percent. I was not backing this.”

“He needed it,” Cody snapped. Bringing up his own defensives as if Rex was attacking him somehow. How could Rex attack him? “You saw what this was doing to him. He wasn’t coping. He needed the war to make sense, and our values made it make sense. It was for the sake of his survival.”

“Do you think I don’t know that? I remember perfectly well the state he was in when we got him.” It was hard to forget. But it was hard to remember too: looking at Obi-Wan now, so confidently laughing and swinging his sword, it was hard to see that shaking child. A sign of great growth and maturity. “It didn’t start out as a game. But we’re going way beyond your job, and you know it. You’ve gotten too close to this.”

The Obi-Wan game had only started to make him happy. The 501st was throwing their weight behind Cody’s decision, they were pitching in to help keep him alive, and they were improving the efficacy of the 501st’s command - but Obi-Wan’s sobs over their corpses had shaken them all, and giving him their most precious secret dried those tears. It had all just been to make him happy. At least at first. If they did it because they cared, it had to be the right thing to do. 

Cody was telling that to himself now. And as the Obi-Wan Game spun greater and greater, almost twisting out of control, Cody’s tactics did as well. 

“I had to gain his trust,” Cody hissed. “You saw it. I had to navigate those damn visions of his. That’s all it is.” 

“He doesn’t have the visions every night. So why was he there tonight?” Cody looked at the ceiling. “He was there because his little Jedi friend was exterminated, wasn’t he.”

Cody exhaled slowly. He couldn’t meet Rex’s eyes. That, above all else, revealed himself. His words were air. “He was…very upset. He has visions when he’s upset. It was deduction.”

“I don’t understand. Cody, I don’t get this at all.” Rex stepped forward, lowering his voice, and he realized too late that he was almost pleading. “This isn’t you. You’re supposed to be perfect, Cody. This is the most important mission of your life and you’re letting it spiral into this - this mess . How did this happen?” Cody didn’t say anything. “Look, I’m not going to judge you, alright? I’m not thinking any less of you for this. Shit like this happens. It just doesn’t happen to you .”

Cody was silent. Rex was borderline about to threaten him into talking when he finally spoke. 

“Do you remember when Jango transferred you into the command track?”

Despite himself, Rex smiled. “Don’t give him the credit. Everything I got now is ‘cause you stuck out your neck for me.”

But Cody’s expression just tightened. This gloriously happy memory for Rex - it seemed almost painful to Cody. “I was so worried that you were going to get decommissioned. I worked myself up about it, ‘til I was certain. There were already so many…I couldn’t lose you too. And the most I could do was beg Jango for help. I was powerless. But I felt something so powerful. It practically made me sick, that was how much I wanted it. I forgot about it until I grew closer to the ad .”

Cody breathed in, a thin sound somehow forceful. “I wanted to eat Jango. I wanted to consume him. I wanted to steal everything he had - all of the control and the power and the strength. He didn’t deserve it, I did. He wasn’t using it to save anybody, I would. I was perfect and he was flawed. I would be better than him. If only I had what he had. I wanted it, Rex…”

“The Emperor gave it to you,” Rex said, “didn’t he?”

“Close enough. More than anybody else has.” 

“Cody, I…” Rex could barely even grapple with this. It was too much to understand. Rex certainly couldn’t. He didn’t know what the hell Cody was talking about. Replace Jango? It was Jango . It was like trying to buy a ticket to that heaven the Rylothians wouldn’t shut up about. “This is unpatriotic. You’re being so unpatriotic. Are you only following the Emperor because he’s giving you what you want?” Cody shrugged, horrifying Rex deeply. “You can’t want this shit, Cody! It’s - all of it’s for natborns! It’s just natborn garbage! Wanting to be a hero is one thing, wanting to be the best soldier possible - you can’t want to be a father, that’s not how this works.” 

“Why not?”

Rex opened and closed his mouth. Cody didn’t seem impressed with him. But he mostly didn’t seem impressed with himself. Rex wasn’t saying anything Cody didn’t know. 

Finally, Rex could only say, “It was never a game to you, was it?”

It was clear, in that moment. How much Cody hated himself. How much he hated that he didn’t regret a thing. That he would do it again, do it every time, because it was what he wanted. How much he didn’t want it to be what he wanted. 

But it was. There was nothing either of them could do to change that. Cody was defective too. 

No. No, not Cody. He was the clone’s clone. Sedition wasn’t in his genetic code. If the galaxy disagreed with him, then it was the galaxy that was wrong. 

That was stupid. What the hell was he thinking. Cody was being seditious - not regulation seditious, not seditious in any normal way, but seditious all the same. Obi-Wan was for Darth Vader and the Emperor, not Cody. This was warped. Nothing was natural about this, none of it was desirable or acceptable -

Cody, smoothing Obi-Wan’s hair back. Words of reassurance to a frightened boy. An adult protector, who wouldn’t leave you to face the galaxy alone.

That scene…there had been nothing evil about it. 

Well. Nothing to be done.

Rex sighed, running a hand over his buzzed hair. “Guess I got a nephew. Stupid as hell, but I guess I’ll get used to it.”

Cody straightened, arms dropping and eyes widening. “Rex, I can’t drag you down with me on this.”

“Oh, shut it.” Rex offered a growing grin. “If it’s important to you, then it’s important to me. If it’s the most important thing in the galaxy to you, then guess fuckin’ what. Protecting the ad ’s a two person job minimum. So I’ll help you, alright. I’ll look after him too. That’s my oath as a Mando.”

For the first time, Cody looked a little alarmed. “You don’t have to go that far, Rex -”

“You didn’t have to go that far for me, but you did. ‘S only right I pay you back.” Rex lightly slapped his shoulder. “But I get to stay the fun one, right?”

Cody swayed backwards a little, and his own grin rose on his face. “Why do I always have to play the bad guy?”

“That’s a personal choice and you know it.”

“What other option do I have?” Cody complained. “Somebody has to do it.”

Rex crossed his arms, smile lingering on his face. “Says you. Just be one of those hippie parents always preaching about peace and love.”

Cody snorted. “That’s never gotten anything done. A strong Mandalorian takes decisive action. You try getting Obi-Wan to stay in formation with the power of peace and love.”

“Got me there.”

Rex very carefully did not think about the fact that he had just agreed to aid and abet sedition. That wasn’t what this was. Cody said it was fine, so it was fine. Rex had sworn an oath a long time ago, and Rex’s oath to that person was worth a million times more than any promises to an Empire that didn’t exist yet or an Emperor that he had never seen. Family was the most important thing. 

Maybe it was - deviant . But Rex would do a lot worse than this for Cody. If protecting Obi-Wan was that important, then Rex would do it. 

It was the first time in a long time that Rex did something he wanted to do. It felt just a little strange.

Obi-Wan squeezed Rex tight, face buried in his armor chest plate. 

“Thanks, Rex,” Obi-Wan said. “I can always count on you!”

Rex hugged him back, lightness rising in his chest. He lifted him off the ground a little, making Obi-Wan laugh and cling to him. 

“Just don’t tell Cody!”

“I won’t!” Obi-Wan laughed. “I won’t, put me down -!”

It wasn’t a little voice in the back of his head. It wasn’t an evil thought oozing between the cracks of his deficiencies. It was just fact, steady and real and growing lighter all the time, taking up residence in his buoyant chest.

Man, Rex thought, I really love him. 

The thought should have scared him. It was the scariest thought Rex ever had. But Rex couldn’t abandon it. He just couldn’t un-think it. He didn’t even want to. 

“Love you, kid,” Rex whispered. 

“Love you too, now put me down , you’re gonna drop me !”

The game fell away. And in the days, months that followed - beginning as a seed, growing ever larger, striving for light and sun - something else took root. 

Like all love, it was poisonous. 

“Hey, General.”

Jinn looked up from his tea, mildly surprised. “Yes, Captain?”

“Does love ruin people?” 

Jinn considered the question. Rex felt like an idiot. After a second of thoughtfully nodding his head, he said, “People, no. Lives, yes.”

“Yeah,” Rex said, “that seems about right.”

“Where is your general!” Anakin shouted, hand clenching the air as if he was clenching a throat. “Where’s that damn traitor general of yours, you coward!”

The enemy was dying slowly and stylistically. Dramatic, but wasn’t exactly going to get them the information they needed. Casually, Rex called, “He might need some air to answer that, General.”

Anakin smashed the man onto the ground before stalking forwards, bending over the shoulder. His face was dark and sharp in anger, and his eyes shined with something ostensibly desirable. “Well? Tell me the location of that piece of shit general of yours. The one that threw in with the Separatists and betrayed your own people!”

The enemy heaved gasps. Rex had seen this sort of thing before. He was going to die unless they got him some medical care fast. Hard, fast, decisive action: that was Darth Vader for you.

Anakin clenched his fist again, using the Force to twist the man’s body into a new configuration of pain. “Tell me!”

Rex whistled lowly. Wow. Anakin had gotten even better at this. At first he did it so clumsily and awkwardly, an accident through and through, but after a few rounds of strategic encouragement and enabling he had really grown to master the power. It was power vanishingly few people in the galaxy had - power that only the strongest possessed. And Rex served it! “Our general’s a strong leader, eh?”

Rex glanced at Obi-Wan, expecting agreement. Obi-Wan still worshiped Anakin. Rex had to reassure Anakin of this a lot: yeah, Obi-Wan spent a lot of time with us clones, but that’s normal. We can’t replace his one and only master. Don’t worry so much about it. I’m sure he understands.

But that wasn’t worship on his face. Rex could only nominate it as fear. 

Pure fear, veering into horror. Obi-Wan looked sick and scared. Nothing about the sight was rewarding or impressive to him. The sight was hurting Obi-Wan.

“You have one last chance to talk,” Anakin said, as he deserved . “Tell me where your general is or you won’t live to regret what you did to these people.”

The militia man turned his head, looking straight at Anakin and challenging him to the wire for the first time. “Die, Republic scum.”

“Wrong answer,” Anakin said, twisting his fist.

The man’s neck snapped, and his body fell limp. 

And Rex - 

Anakin turned to leave, still boiling with barely repressed rage. “Come on, guys. We have the real bad guys to catch.”

Obi-Wan’s face was like tripping on a stair. Rex was stumbling, breath caught, and for a second he was no longer oriented in time. But Anakin’s voice snapped him back to it, and Rex hastily straightened himself out. Get your head in the game, Rex, you’ll never get anywhere if you’re zoning out -

“Yes, sir!” Rex said, all cheer and pep, falling into his rightful place a step behind Anakin. “That was a cool showing, sir. You took a real hard stance against that traitor. I bet this planet’s going to think twice before messing with the Republic again, huh?”

“Obviously.” Anakin sounded so proud of himself, so firm and brave. He was a good leader. Decisive. “We aren’t the fighting 501st for nothing. Let’s see if another Republic planet allies with the Separatists again after this .”

“ Badass , sir!”

Anakin laughed, giving Rex a familiar smile. “You were badass too, Rex!”

“Obviously, sir, but not nearly as much as you are!”

Obi-Wan caught up with them again, but he wasn’t smiling anymore. Even if he tried to hide it - he probably thought he had, Obi-Wan thought he was so slick - it was clear as day to Rex. He was scared, and Anakin had scared him. 

Anakin didn’t seem like he noticed. But a few hours later, when the smoke from the bombs lingered in the fog obscuring buildings split in two, Anakin pulled Rex aside. He seemed stressed and guilty. 

“Was Obi-Wan too young to see that?” It must have felt like an insane thing to say, considering how Obi-Wan had once chopped off the heads of four Death Watch members simultaneously, but somehow it wasn’t. “He’s been acting weird to me all day. He was too young, right?”

The only correct answer was, ‘Of course not, all of your habits are family friendly and you should teach Obi-Wan to do them as fast as possible’. Even a ‘Obi-Wan’s just not used to your new power, he’ll secretly love it soon!’ would suffice. Rex had his lines, and there was no way around saying them. It was say the lines or betray the Emperor’s trust, and that wasn’t a choice at all.

But Rex had made a promise to Cody as well. That was a choice. But it was a choice he’d make every time. 

Rex leaned in, lowering his voice. “He was upset, General. I think the entire day was hard on him. We’re normally fighting droids, not sentients. Maybe we can keep some of the…more decisive choices away from him?” 

Anakin exhaled. He did seem genuinely upset, even shaken. How had Obi-Wan looked at him? Was it a way that anybody had ever looked at him before? “Right, Captain. That’s for the best. He’ll get it one day.”

“Just give him some time,” Rex said sympathetically. He weighed the value of a manly shoulder clap before deciding to hold off. “He’s still young.” 

“Yeah. He’s innocent. Real innocent, Rex, sometimes it makes me - it can almost be scary, you know? The galaxy’s never hurt him.” Anakin looked away, a storm brewing inside of him. “It’s innocent people you have to watch out for, Rex. They’re too kind and trusting. They’re in danger constantly. I think Padme has a near-death experience once a month.”

“I think that’s just Ms. Padme, sir.”

“She forgave me,” Anakin muttered. “So Obi-Wan will too, right…?”

“Sir?”

Anakin didn’t say anything for a long second. Finally, he said, “Let’s get a beer after this. There’s something I want to tell you.”

“Don’t need any more details of you and Ms. Padme’s -”

“Okay, that was once , leave me alone!”

“Three times. Three times too many.”

“I get it, I get it!”

That evening, around a few mugs of beer in Anakin’s cabin, Anakin told Rex a story about a tribe of Tusken Raiders. 

Rex forgave him. It made Anakin untense in relief, looking up at Rex with a hopeful smile. He set his shoulders straighter, looked more confident, when Rex told him that he had done the right thing. He couldn’t express that it was the Mando thing to do, but he could tell Anakin that people lost their right to life when they committed the worst possible actions. That revenge was always right. Don’t feel guilty, never feel guilty. You’ve taken out the trash since then, right? That was no different. You’re still taking out the trash. Nothing had changed. 

And even if it was the wrong thing, even if you did make a mistake (Padme said so) - then you’ve made up for it. You were guilty, you repented, you learned. She forgave you, she isn’t mad. Hell, sir, I don’t blame you. So don’t beat yourself up for it. 

Rex even believed it. Mostly. He told a few white lies, but at the end of the day Darth Vader was allowed to kill children. Rex’s rationales didn’t matter. Darth Vader didn’t need an excuse. If Darth Vader decided that a group of people needed exterminating, then he was right to do it. It was practice, even! 

If Darth Vader wanted to commit a massacre - because the monsters deserved it, because these people with wives and children and campfire stories and stuffed dolls weren’t worthy of life - then who was Rex to stop him. Rex was Lord Vader’s loyal warrior, you didn’t question your alor like that. 

But that didn’t make it right. That thought seeped into Rex’s mind, sinking into every inch of his thoughts and becoming inseparable from the very fabric of Rex’s psyche. It wasn’t right.

It would have scared Obi-Wan. Terrified him. Obi-Wan would have tried to stop him, Rex knew that for a fact. And anything that scared Cody’s one and only kid, Rex’s own good friend and vod’ika …sitting back and letting that happen would be breaking a promise. 

Rex lay awake in his cot for a long time, the worst kind of thoughts leaking into his mind through a crack in his rationality. But Rex had two promises now - his promise to the Emperor, and his promise to Cody - and the worst thoughts had a place to collect now. When Rex looked at them, when he gathered them in a bowl and stared into their growing expanse, he saw very few things that he could deny. 

Darth Vader was the best thing for the galaxy. Obviously. No question about that.

Darth Vader was the best thing for Anakin Skywalker. That was…true. Because. Yes.

Darth Vader was the best thing for Obi-Wan Kenobi.

Rex just couldn’t believe…

Lord Vader himself had ordered Rex to keep Obi-Wan away from the Lord Vader thing. Everything Lord Vader did was the right thing to do, Lord Vader knew that he wasn’t good for Obi-Wan, that Obi-Wan shouldn’t see or be around the things he did. That he shouldn’t even know. Anakin was ashamed of what he was doing, and it was taking some work on Rex’s part to convince him that it was alright. Not that much, but Rex had to be careful with his words. Stupid Jedi brainwashing. 

Darth Vader was the best thing for Obi-Wan Kenobi. 

Rex just couldn’t believe that.

And far too much came rushing in.

Chapter Text

Just to set the record straight: Rex was a hero. 

Okay? He was a hero. The situation hadn’t changed, nothing had changed. Rex’s beliefs hadn’t changed, his stringent and upright and extremely simplistic moral code hadn’t changed, reality hadn’t changed. He wasn’t seditious. He wasn’t questioning. Okay? Okay?!

Those beliefs didn’t change. Later - much, much later, as an evil bitch spent far too long trying to convince him of something that was very obvious to her and utterly inscrutable to him - Rex was told that the utter inflexibility of his beliefs was a bit suspicious. 

Which was nonsense. The inflexibility of his beliefs made perfect sense to Rex! When you were told exactly one thing from roughly the moment you were decanted, when your entire sense of identity and self-worth rode on this one thing , when your life rode on it , and when you were raised in two cultures which taught you that questioning orders was What Let The Terrorists Win - you didn’t make a habit of questioning your own thoughts. You did what you were told and you believed it and you liked it. Rex didn’t think that was suspicious. It seemed pretty natural, honestly! The evil bitch just didn’t get it. The unsettlingly nice weakling didn't either. Sweet of them to try, though. 

Those days were all Rex. Maybe later on, after that switch was flipped, when Rex changed in an indefinable way that even he was eventually capable of seeing - Rex could admit that it wasn’t absolutely natural. But the person who had chosen to discard too many thoughts too many times - he knew what he was doing. Rex wouldn’t wriggle out of responsibility for that.

Nothing had changed. But something else was added. 

It was Cody’s mission to protect Obi-Wan. Because everybody had the responsibility to support Cody’s mission, as everybody has the responsibility to support Rex’s, it was partly Rex’s mission from the Emperor (keep an eye on this detail, it was important) to protect Obi-Wan. 

Moreover, Cody had sworn an oath to support Cody on his personal mission. Cody was Rex’s hero, he was his older brother and protector and savior, and he would do fucking anything for the guy. All hail and all of that, but loyalty to a natborn did not supersede loyalty to Rex’s best ori’vod and vod’ika . So Rex weighted his responsibility to his secondhand, supportive, chip-in-when-you can mission to help Cody deliver Obi-Wan to Vader, against Rex’s personal oath to protect him. 

These missions were at odds. When you interpreted them extremely creatively, his two missions from the Emperor were at odds. This was a lot of trouble and caused Rex a lot of problems. 

These were not a series of thoughts that Rex had sequentially. It was a consequential machine of one push causing a chain reaction of a series of other thoughts that caused a chain reaction of a series of other thoughts ad nauseum. Just when it ran out, Rex was pushed more and more. 

“I hear another one of Obi-Wan’s little friends got exterminated,” Jinx said gleefully. On the Intrepid . While Obi-Wan was on the Perseverance . From an abundance of caution. “The game just got a whole lot easier. And Jinn’s girlfriend, too! I swear, when the time comes we’ll have nothing to do.”

Because Rex was stupid and did not even fully register what he was saying, he said, “Are Obi-Wan’s friends dying a good thing? He’s incredibly upset. He’s not even hiding it well.”

The entire group stared at him.

Slowly, Coric said, “Is the filth being exterminated a good thing?”

“Yes, obviously, of course it is!” Rex snapped. Wasn’t that obvious? “It’s just - it’s too bad about Obi-Wan’s feelings, you know?”

The sudden press of tension slackened. Vaughn shrugged and nodded. “That’s too bad, I guess. But we’ll cheer him up, right?”

“Yeah,” Bow said. “He’ll forget all about it soon.”

“Scrubbing out the filth is a good thing,” Coric said. “He’ll know it, like, subconsciously, right?”

Rex had a new thought. 

You people sound fucking stupid. 

Rex was pushed more and more. 

“They’re treating us like garbage!” Anakin threw a vase at a wall, exploding into a thousand pieces with a sharp crack. “The Senate doesn’t care if we live or die, they’re using us!”

Obi-Wan was frozen at Rex’s side, every muscle tense. He didn’t look frightened, just incredibly uncomfortable. Which was how he liked to pretend he wasn’t frightened. 

Rex put a hand on Obi-Wan’s shoulder, slowly but firmly pushing him out of Padme’s office. “General, Obi-Wan’s going to speak with General Jinn about next steps.” The mention of Obi-Wan’s name helped. Anakin stopped short, heaving deep breaths and still shaking with rage. “Let’s you and me talk, alright?”

Rex talked Anakin down. Obi-Wan disappeared, and Rex knew that he had run straight to Cody. 

And Rex was pushed…

Denal dropped onto the mess hall table, grin stretched across his face. “Just scored a hundred points easy, boys. That means I’ve officially overtaken you in the leaderboard, Oz.” 

The scoreboard existed only digitally, in a locked folder on the 501st network drive that only the clones had access to. Obi-Wan had been learning slicing from Peel. They had all thrown battery packs at Peel for this. Because Obi-Wan had found the leaderboard. They all had to lie their shebs off about it being their scrapped clanker score. 

Obi-Wan insisted that they record his score too. If Rex was on the board, then why couldn’t Obi-Wan? Accusations of Jedi-hood bounced off him when he swore to only count his hits with a blaster. To get him to shut up and move on from the topic, they put Obi-Wan Kenobi as a player on the leaderboard of the Obi-Wan Kenobi Game. Cody had not been impressed by this. 

They mentally compensated for the horror by giving him scores for every time he gaslit himself into oblivion. Worst of all, he was doing great.

“I’m plus fifty from yesterday,” Oz threatened. “His living friends invited him to spend time together and when I asked if he wanted to practice in the salle with me he blew them off.”

“Sorry, still winning!” Denal leaned forward, hands planted on the table and grinning. “He told me - not just shit-talking, real sincere and heartfelt - that he wishes he’d never become a Jedi at all!”

Everybody groaned in admiration, including Rex. That was a huge victory. At this rate he was going to quit the Order any minute. And then plan ‘Save Obi-Wan From Jedi Corruption and All-Around Evil’ would be a complete success. Just to be expected, honestly - the 501st never lost a battle or gave up on a fight. 

“We’ve done it, lads.” Denal slapped the table, almost crowing in victory. “He’s convinced that every singe Jedi hates him. He’s uncomfortable with every natborn, he barely knows how to talk to ‘em anymore! He’s thrown all in with us. And there’s nothing a single damn natborn can do about it! Are we good or what?”

“He called us family,” Oz said excitedly. “Isn’t that so sweet?”

And Rex thought -

The Obi-Wan Game is cruel.

And Rex…

The atmosphere in the barracks was heavy and thick. 

As usual lately, the 501st and 212th sides kept strictly to themselves. They had used to mix more, spend time together as if they were one battalion, but an odd rift had been created between them. Rex couldn’t put his finger on it. They had just become different. Rex connected better with the 212th these days. A terrible trait in a captain and everybody knew it. 

Somewhat less usually, the halls were quiet. There was nobody running around, racing to get to a sabacc game before it folded, and what few fragments of conversation caught in the halls between soldiers was quiet and subdued. The 501st side was a little more active, still bouncing with the sounds of clones talking and boisterous play fighting, but as Rex wound his way into the 212th barracks he began to feel like he was walking through a dead man’s ship. 

Maybe it was just him. Maybe Rex was imagining blasters around every corner, hyped up on paranoia and dread, and it was making him see shadows. He couldn’t afford to let his mind slip like that. He was slipping enough already. Rex had been feeling insane. 

They had all been run ragged lately. The 212 were being ground into the dirt and picked off like flies just to torment Qui-Gon Jinn. The 501st were being thrown into more and more battles that pushed Anakin Skywalker to the brink. Not for the first time, Rex wished that they could torture the natborns without putting the clones in the middle of it. 

He stopped in front of the infirmary and deliberated for far too long before finally buzzing the infirmary doors open. He could just continue avoiding this conversation, but Rex wasn’t going to be a coward anymore. Not anymore. If anybody would understand, it was Cody. Cody would listen to him. 

The infirmary was half-full, still laden from the last mission. It had been a disaster - the kind of disaster that the 501st and 212th rarely had. Rex wasn’t stupid enough to think he was invulnerable, but some part of him always found the 501st exempt from failure. With Lord Vader on their side, they almost never failed. 

Anakin wasn’t happy. He wasn’t happy that they were forced to retreat from the planet and let another battalion come in to take over. He wasn’t happy that General Grievous had gotten away, again . He wasn’t happy that so many of his men were hurt and dead. He wasn’t happy that Obi-Wan was hurt. He was, actually, the opposite of happy about that. Second time he was put in the infirmary this year. Sometimes Rex wished that they could torture the natborns without putting Obi-Wan in the middle of it. 

It might have been a purposeful move by the Emperor. Anakin never handled Obi-Wan getting hurt in battle well. If Obi-Wan broke an arm throwing himself off a ledge for fun - to be fair, it was really fun - then he and Jinn tended to laugh it off, much to Cody’s consternation. But a broken arm in battle obviously meant something very different to him, and he freaked out every time. The 501st men bragged about it - our Sith Lord really cares about his apprentice, and he really cares about us, have you seen that move he can do with a lightsaber - but somehow Rex couldn’t brag as loudly as he used to.

“I’m failing him,” Anakin would say. Despite everything, despite the person he was becoming, he was still Anakin. “Dammit, Rex. I can’t even do this one thing right.”

“You’re doing the best you can,” Rex would say. “It’s still a thousand times better than anybody else can do. You can’t control the tides, General.”

And then Anakin would look up at him, a moment of sincerity between genuine friends, and Rex would see something glimmering in his eyes. “Everyone at the Temple keeps acting like I can bring the rain. Anything less than perfect lets them all down. I can’t keep up with all of this pressure.” And he would look back down - at his drink, at the command table, at Obi-Wan, and avoid Rex’s eyes. “I’m our greatest general or I’m irresponsible. I’m our toughest warrior or my impulsiveness weakens me. I’m an adult or a kid. They can’t treat me like a kid and then hand me a battalion, Rex. They build me up as a hero and then call me a failure of a Jedi. I wish they would make up their damn minds. Just tell me what you want from me, and I’ll do it.”

“The only person the Commander wants is his master,” Rex would say, every time. “That’s all he wants. Just you.”

“Yeah. Obi-Wan doesn’t have any expectations. He just…wants me. Just me.”

And that seemed to mean more to him than Rex could understand. Maybe Cody would.

Obi-Wan was in one of those beds - near the center, next to the medic station. Anakin hadn’t been happy about that either. But the Jedi Halls of Healing had been completely full after some disaster with the Star Corp, and Cody had been quick to volunteer the barrack’s medbay. His offer had clearly surprised the Jedi - none of whom had ever stepped foot inside a clone barracks, and who perhaps thought that they slept in the engine rooms - but the force of Cody’s personality won out yet again. Medic Che would be over soon enough to give Obi-Wan the attention he needed, but for the time being he would be just fine without mystical Jedi intervention. The stuff probably polluted the blood. Introduced…evil toxins or something.

That was stupid. It had always been stupid. He just hadn’t wanted to admit it. Rex had seen the Evil Force, or whatever it was called. He had felt it. He knew the difference between a concussion grenade and a paint bomb. The Force that the Jedi used, the kind that Medic Che used to heal Rex’s wounds and that Jinn seemed to exude with a smile…it was nothing alike. 

Jinn, as a person , was evil. Being a Jedi had nothing to do with it. This was so fucking stupid. 

Anakin and Jinn weren’t here now, which was yet again attributable to Cody. He had quickly, politely, and inarguably kicked them out. It happened so rapidly that Anakin hadn’t realized what happened until he was standing outside the barracks with firm assurances that they would call him if there was a change. Jinn, as usual, was a little quicker on the uptake, but he went along with it. If Rex caught him shooting thoughtful glances at Cody, then he was sure he imagined it.

Rex wound his way around the beds, offering smiles and clasped hands to the men he saw. Some of them were awake, in good enough spirits to wave and cheer at him. Many of them were asleep, or drifting in a medicated haze. Was that Sharptooth? Dammit. 

Cody didn’t look up when Rex approached, eyes fixed on his datapad. He was sitting on one of the uncomfortable plasteel visitor’s chairs, the ones that killed your back if you stayed sitting for more than a few hours. Rex knew that Cody had been sitting there for more than a few hours. The sheets on Obi-Wan’s bed were slightly rumped, as if Cody had been leaning on them. 

Just like Cody. He’d wait by your bedside for hours after an injury, but he’d take the opportunity to catch up on formwork. No idle hours for that man. You could tell how severe the injury was by how much of the formwork he was actually doing. When Crys almost lost his arm he just stayed sitting there, staring at the same page for hours on hours. 

“How’s he doing?”

Cody didn’t take his eyes off his datapad. Rex fought the urge to pull up a chair, as if they were really just chatting over the bedside of a brother. That wasn’t the case, and if he pretended it was he’d lose all nerve. He couldn’t back out now. “Nothing bacta and bedrest can’t fix. No permanent damage.”

“Oh, bedrest ,” Rex said, and he couldn’t keep the teasing note from his voice. “How are you going to enforce that one this time, ori’vod ? Straps? Force cuffs?”

“I was thinking of threats,” Cody said dryly. “Fifteen years old and he thinks he doesn’t have to listen to me anymore. Not that he ever listened to you.”

“Why would I tell him what to do? That’s your job.” Rex was the fun brother. Sometimes he wondered if Cody resented having to play the bad guy all the time, but he figured that Cody wouldn’t be happy if he couldn’t ground someone. “Pretty soon grounding isn’t going to work on him, you know. You’ll have to find something more inventive. Hostage negotiation?”

“Sure. You want to play the hostage?”

For some reason, Rex found himself faltering. The jokes suddenly didn’t seem that funny anymore. 

He looked down at Obi-Wan, sleeping peacefully with a single breathing mask strapped to his face. His arms and torso were wrapped in bandages, but it wasn’t such a new look on Obi-Wan. The only strangeness was how still he was. Obi-Wan had fallen asleep against Rex’s shoulder plenty of times in the field, or conked out on the mess hall tables after one too many late night sabacc sessions, and he always jerked or twitched. Fighting his invisible enemies.

But he just lay still now, as if there were no enemies around. As if he was safe.

“Brother, I…want to talk with you.” Where did this hesitance come from? Rex wasn’t hesitant. He didn’t doubt himself. “I have to talk to you. It’s important.”

Cody grunted, setting his datapad aside on the bed. “Can’t it wait? I’d rather have meetings over my datacomm and caff.”

“It’s not a meeting,” Rex said. “This is between us. And - and no , it can’t wait. I’m tired of waiting.”

Cody looked up at him, and something in his eyes made Rex’s skin prickle. He felt something crawl down his spine, and he didn’t know why.

It was just Cody. Just Kote. A dash and a hug, a desperate fight to give Rex the chance that he deserved. There was nothing cold about him, nothing removed and distant. There wasn’t. It was impossible. 

“You don’t want to have this conversation.” His voice was something more than tired - maybe the kind of tired that belonged at the sickbed of a man’s kid. Even if the kid didn’t - strictly know? Wait, did Obi-Wan even know that Cody was borderline seditious about him? “And I don’t want to have it with you.”

Rex fought to fan the flames of indignation in his gut. It was difficult. Every inch of him wanted to drop it and walk away. Why? That wasn’t like him. “Don’t tell me what I want. That’s what I’m trying to tell you.” Rex heaving a deep breath, fighting for the focus and calm that always came so easily to him. It was more difficult in front of Cody, who had always been calm enough for the both of them. “Cody, you know - this. It isn’t…I just don’t think it’s…”

“Out with it, Rex.”

Fuck it. “We can’t hand him over to the Empire.”

Silence stretched. It seemed to suffocate even the beeps and blares of the medical machines, drowning out the snorts and sniffles of sleeping clones. It seemed to suffocate Cody - his face twisting, bared teeth flashing behind a curled lip, a thin flash of anger fluttering behind a heavy curtain. Rex had expected anger, expected a fight, but something about this felt different. He had never seen it in Cody before. He thought that he’d seen all of Cody. 

Save, maybe, for those special little fragments only Obi-Wan ever saw. Obi-Wan, who was not a true soldier. Who did not need to be toughened up, and who was allowed to sit together with Cody as they poured over interesting books together. That was a side of Cody that Rex had never been allowed to see, and some strange part of Rex’s gut burned with the theft. With what Cody was about to steal.

Finally, after a long second chewing over his words, Cody said, “I don’t want to hear that from you again, Captain.”

“I don’t care if you don’t want to hear it!” Rex exclaimed. He had to make Cody understand. He was a rational clone, one of the smartest. There was no way he hadn’t seen it. Nobody knew Obi-Wan like he did. “Obi-Wan loves his master, but he’s terrified of Vader. When we deliver him to the Empire, who are we going to be delivering him to? Vader’s barely hanging on now, and he’s going to lose all control once he Falls. How can you sit here and act like giving him over to people like Dooku or Ventress is safe?” Hell, Rex trusted Obi-Wan with Ventress more than Anakin on a really bad day. At least she could control herself. Ventress only ever did what she had to do - always prioritizing survival over a win. Anakin only ever thought that he would win. That he didn’t have to slow down and look behind him, because the inevitable victory meant Obi-Wan couldn’t be hurt. 

“Life under the Empire will keep him safe,” Cody said. The words came loosely and easily, and Rex knew how often he’d had to say it to himself. Like Rex did, because he was defective. “He’ll be better off. Lord Vader wouldn’t make him fight a war. He’d be a normal kid. He’d live in peace.”

Rex went a bit insane. 

“You call the last few months peace? You think the Empire won’t be worse ? This Empire we’re building, the peace we’re going to create - nothing created from the ashes of a razed galaxy could ever be peaceful ! Maybe we’ll be better off, maybe we’ll have less people to fight - but that’s just because we’ll win every fight. The fights won’t stop . None of this will stop.”

“If we’ll be better off,” Cody said, “what’s the problem?”

And what was the problem? 

He was right. Rex didn’t really give a shit about the rest of the galaxy. How could he give a shit about people who had never once cared about him, who had never looked out for him? They owed him a blood debt of thousands of brothers, and maybe they deserved to pay their dues. After everything Rex and his brothers had sacrificed for them, after every bill they passed to throw more of them into the meat grinder, Rex owed the Republic nothing. 

Cody thought so. Cody didn’t love the Empire - for the first time, that felt so blindingly obvious. Cody just hated the Republic.

Or he hated natborns. Rex was a little worried that Cody just hated natborns.

The vod should be doing this because they loved the Empire. But sometimes Rex got the impression that the vod just hated the Republic more. It was the Republic who had fucked them over, and some of them wanted it to burn almost spitefully. If they desired vengeance, then the Empire would be exactly what they needed. 

The Emperor was fair, he’d bring military law and order to an uncivilized galaxy. A neater galaxy, with less braying senators and pointless conflict, was the best possible thing. Cody and his brothers - but Obi-Wan was his brother, he had to be included in that - Obi-Wan would be better off - no he wouldn’t -

“Obi-Wan won’t be better off,” Rex repeated. He had to keep hold of that. Why did his thoughts keep wandering? Why couldn’t he stay focused on what was important? “The Emperor - the Emperor wouldn’t let him go to waste, Cody. He has too much potential for that. As an apprentice, or as - as leverage for Vader. You know that this isn’t what’s best for him.”

Cody stood up, expression hard and blank. The back of Rex’s neck pricked, a voice in his head screaming at him that he was going way too far, he just needed to shut up. This was no respect for his leader, for his Empire. But that voice had been keeping him silent for months, and he couldn’t shut up anymore. 

He stood his ground as Cody stood in front of him, desperately trying to keep anger on his face. He was afraid, uncertain, but he couldn’t show Cody that. He never tolerated weakness or half-heartedness, any more than Jango did. 

Flatly, every ounce of emotion withheld, Cody said, “And what will happen if we betray the Emperor?” 

On reflex, Rex said, “It isn’t betraying, it’s just -”

“How will taking him and running end, Rex? Because it will end. We will get caught. We’ll be executed, Obi-Wan will be seen as uncooperative, and it will have been for nothing. We’ll have ruined his life for nothing.” Cody took a step forward, and Rex forced himself to stand his ground. “And I’ll be replaced as alor of this military. Replaced by an inferior leader who is less competent and cares less about the men. What if it’s a natborn , Rex? Would you have me fuck over Obi-Wan’s life and subject the men to a natborn commander because - what? Obi-Wan wouldn’t be happy?”

What could Rex say? Cody was right. He was right on every count. Bly and Wolffe were morons, they were going to get caught. Cody couldn’t afford to sacrifice everything just to take a long shot on the right thing to do. Cody was needed here. He had more obligations than just Obi-Wan. He couldn’t -

“Then let me take him,” Rex said. His heart had never beat so fast. He’s never felt so sick. But it couldn’t go unsaid anymore. “I promised I’d help you. Let me help you. I’ll take him. I don’t care how dangerous it is.” 

Cody’s expression twisted, almost offended. “And leave your men without you?”

“I don’t lead a fourth of the GAR,” Rex said. “I’m just here for Lord Vader. I’m not indispensable like you are. So let me do it.”

“What, and get both of you killed? I won’t take that risk.”

“You’re not the one taking the risk.” It wasn’t Cody’s decision. Rex would go rogue, Cody would swear up and down that he tried to stop him. Cody didn’t have to have a thing to do with this. “It’s my decision, and I don’t care how dangerous it is. Your mission would hurt Obi-Wan too much. That’s no life for -”

“And a life on the run is ?” Cody snapped. Was there pain in him? Anything other than anger and stubbornness and unwavering loyalty to an army that didn’t give a shit about him? Or was there an ounce of loyalty to the Empire in Cody after all? Sometimes it was too difficult to tell. “He’d be fugitive number one! No stability, no family, no peace - everything he would have under Vader! That’s what I promised him, that’s what I’m going to give him! I won’t let independent thinkers like you take that away from him!”

Only Cody could make independent sound like a fucking curse word. “Do you seriously think Obi-Wan gives a shit about any of that?” Rex yelled. “We didn’t raise him to give a shit about that! All he wants is you!”

Cody’s expression hardened. Rex couldn’t tell if he was in pain. For some stupid reason, that was all Rex wanted to know - if he wanted to be saying these things, if this was remotely easy for him to do. Rex hoped it was hard. Even if that didn’t change a thing. “I can’t do what he wants. I have never once done what he wants . I’m doing what he needs me to do. I didn’t help you into the command track because it was what you wanted , I did it because it kept you safe. Do you really think it’ll look good for me if he escapes?”

For some reason, that was what froze him. The words were shocking. Rex had never once known Cody to do what looked good -

Had he?

Faintly, Rex said, “Who the hell cares about what looks good?”

“I don’t know how the Empire is going to restructure the military. I don’t know if they’re going to prioritize natborn officers over clone ones. I have to stay at the top. I can’t let anything happen that would compromise that.”

“Holy shit,” Rex said. “Who gives a fuck.”

Cody looked at him as if he was stupid. “Jedi officers give a fuck about our lives. Natborn Imperial officers definitely will not. I have to protect us. It’s bad enough that Bly and Wolffe are going to let some incompetent natborn swoop in and steal their roles. If handing over the young lord into a life of safety and security will make that happen, then that’s what I’ll do. Impressing the Emperor is the only way to get ahead.” For the first time, Rex saw a flaw in Cody’s stone - maybe a flash of the oldest pain. “I need you alive, Rex. I don’t need you to do the right thing. I won’t let you throw your life away.” 

And somehow, Rex could only say, “Fulfilling a promise to you isn’t throwing my life away.”

“You’re not his father,” Cody said. “So sit down and follow your orders before you ruin everything I’ve worked for.”

Who was this person?

Rex knew. It was Cody. Only Cody. He wasn’t saying anything Cody wouldn’t, doing anything that Cody hadn’t done. Maybe that was the worst thing - that it was Cody through and through, that he cared about everything Cody cared about. Everything he was doing now, he had always done. Rex just hadn’t cared.

Protecting Obi-Wan from the people he loved. Making him miserable because they knew what was best. Obi-Wan had wanted somebody to believe in his visions, to take him seriously - had they ever once done that? Had powerlessness become their habit? Did Cody seriously think that this, any of this, was real power?

The man Rex had worshiped was gone. Maybe he’d never existed. The man who Rex had adored above anything, who had saved him from a life of namelessness and early death - if he had ever existed, then he wasn’t standing in front of Rex.

Rex was alone, now. But he’d rather be alone than have that for a brother.

Rex, impulsive as always, saw red. He was distantly aware of their audience - the 212th clones who had slowly filtered into the room watching with wide eyes, the wounded soldiers straining to lift themselves to see - but he didn’t care. All he could think about was Cody, and of Kote. “A power hungry asshole like you has no right to call himself anyone’s parent!”

Finally, finally, Cody’s face twisted in rage. “Shut up, Rex!”

But if Rex shut up now then he’d never speak again, and he couldn’t bear the silence anymore. “A parent who walks away from his kid isn’t a parent at all!” Rex yelled. “But what would either of us know about parents , huh?”

“I won’t hear any more of this!”

“I can’t stand any more of you!”

“You’re dismissed , Captain!”

Was Cody scared? Did he know Rex was right? It didn’t matter. All the power in the galaxy wouldn’t stop what Cody had to do. He knew exactly how it would feel - what it would be like for Obi-Wan to watch him walk away, to know that he hadn’t been good enough to make him stay. That staying with him had been less important than Cody’s fucking career .

He had seen it before. He remembered the looks on Boba and Omega’s faces as they sobbed and sobbed. Cody had told him more about it. I want my daddy, Omega had said. I want my daddy. Cody knew what Obi-Wan was too old to say. He just didn't care. Like Jango Fett, he hadn’t learned a goddamn thing. 

Cody was perfect. Rex was not. Rex had always cursed his defects, had always hated himself for them. But if this was what perfection made you - then Rex would never want to be perfect again.

The figure on the bed twitched hard, as if something invisible and unsensible had physically hurt him.The figure groaned, only gaining awareness after his body moved.

Cody changed in a microsecond. He turned around, expression and posture and spirit transforming completely into the Cody he needed to be, and Rex watched with dull shock as he dropped back down into the chair pulled up next to Obi-Wan’s bedside. He reached out and took the kid’s hand, squeezing lightly.

“Cody…?” Obi-Wan turned his head, blinking blearily. “ ‘zat you?”

“Sure is,” Cody said. He was smiling gently. His voice was soft, his body easy and loose as if he had been napping for the last hour instead of saying terrible shit to Rex. “You took a nasty hit, Commander. How are you feeling?”

“Crappy.” Obi-Wan made a face, and Cody smiled properly. “Not this shit…was it Dooku again…?”

“Just one very brave commander who stayed behind to defuse the last bomb. He didn’t get out fast enough.”

“Eh. Worth it.” He pushed himself up a little and pushed the air mask off, ignoring Cody’s sound of disagreement, and caught sight of Rex. Rex watched his eyes follow backwards, to the clones lingering on the far wall. “Hey, guys. You’re…all here…?”

No matter the argument, no matter the fight. No matter the situation. You did not compromise opsec. Mando’a was one thing, but this was another. “We wanted to see you,” Rex said, forcing a big grin. Obi-Wan grinned back, the arm propping him up shaking a little. “Don’t strain yourself, Commander. You don’t want another week of bedrest.”

“I heard yelling…”

“Come on, Commander, lie back down.” Cody gently pushed him down, his hand lingering on Obi-Wan’s chest as he huffed in teenage disgruntlement. Rex watched as the hand drifted up to run through his hair, straightening some of the knotted bedhead. “You’re just fine. Everything’s going to be fine.” Obi-Wan mumbled something, too quiet for Cody to hear. “Don’t worry about that now. That’s for later, when you feel better. I’ll say the remembrances with you tonight, okay?”

Rex couldn’t take this anymore. He just couldn’t take it. Sorry he wasn’t perfect. 

He turned on his heel, stalking out the door. The other clones jumped out of his way, and Rex fought hard not to look at their faces. He didn’t want to see their judgment and scorn. Word would get out about this. They’d ostracize him. He didn’t care. The Clone Wars were drawing to a close, and sooner or later none of this would matter anymore. 

For just a second, he thought he must have seen some sympathetic glances, but he tore his eyes away just as quickly. That was even worse. 

Impulsive as ever, Rex couldn’t help but yell, “Take real good care of him, Codes!”

He didn’t stick around to hear the rest. He broke out of the room, fighting the urge to run from these claustrophobic barracks and this claustrophobic planet and this claustrophobic life, and he couldn’t get away fast enough. 

Distantly, he heard a faint voice say, “What’s with him ?”

If another voice responded, Rex couldn’t hear it. He stomped his way down the hallways until the sounds of clones faded far away, leaving Rex alone. 

One hour before the end of the next day shift, as if it had taken that long to work up the guts to do it, Wooley knocked at Rex’s door. 

Rex opened the door, sleepy and pissy, and Wooley slid inside without even greeting him. Not a single salute to be found. Rex was too flabbergasted to even complain. 

“Is your cabin monitored?” Wooley rushed out. Like he rushed in. What, was he in a fucking hurry? “Audio, video, anything?”

Rex was too turned around to even deflect. “Clone officer cabins are the only unmonitored rooms in the battleships. You know that.” Which was why Cody thought he could get away with the shit he was obviously doing. The hallways were monitored, moron. “What in twenty hells do -”

“Me and some of the men have been talking.” Alright, literally cut off a higher-placed officer (not ranked, but everybody knew the score) in the middle of his sentence. Open that airlock. “If you ask me which men, I will conveniently forget. Will you also conveniently forget this conversation happened?” 

Rex started feeling as if he’d lost the plot weeks ago, but things could always get worse. He wasn’t surprised that it was a 212th man acting strange. They’d all been acting strange lately. All of the 501st men were commenting on it, somewhat angrily. “I can’t promise confidentiality for anything you say, Lieutenant.”

“But can you try?” Wooley asked, strangely urgent. “Can you try not to tell anybody that I was here?”

He really was upset. Wooley wasn’t his man, but a brother was a brother and a friend was a friend. It was an officer’s job to give a shit about the brothers. Even if Rex had the longest day ever and had been really looking forward to getting some sleep. 

Rex sighed, walking towards his desk and falling onto his stool. “This is about my fight with Cody, isn’t it.”

“It’s not about that,” Wooley hazarded. Could he look any more suspicious? “I won’t say it’s not - related. But it’s why I’m coming to you. We thought that you might - you know, get it.” 

Unimpressed, Rex said, “Get what?”

Wooley was silent. He worked his jaw, shifting on his feet, and Rex saw how genuinely difficult this was for him to say. Rex found himself straightening, taking Wooley a little more seriously. Whatever Wooley had to say - it wasn’t the type of thing that clones were meant to say.

Finally, Wooley took the plunge. Hurried and forceful, he said, “Have you noticed anything strange about the 501st?”

Rex stared blankly at him. “I’m the commander of the 501st.”

“Yes. I know. But have you noticed anything strange about them?” Alright, Rex would need a lot more detail than that. He stared vibroknives at Wooley until he said something more helpful. “Almost everyone in the 212th’s noticed. Everybody who spends a long time with the 501st notices. They’re just - different.”

“We’re a unique battalion,” Rex said wryly. “Must be the influence of the greatest general and highest victory rates in the GAR.” And the highest number of bizarre fucking missions, but nobody ever needed to mention Mortis ever again.

“Captain,” Wooley said, and Rex knew that this was what he had meant to say all along. “Nobody else hates the Jedi like the 501st do.”

Immediately, Rex said, “Then nobody else is paying attention.”

“The 501st are the only battalion who knows about the Dark side of the Force. Nobody else knows what the Sith even are . I asked Appo about it - he thinks that you learn about it in flash training.” Uh, yeah. Because you did. “Alright, so do you. We didn’t . Only a 501st man can go on and on about how the Sith will save the galaxy. And you do. All of the time.”

“Maybe we got different flash trainings,” Rex said, thoroughly irritated. Or maybe just uncomfortable. “We’re the only battalion working underneath a future Sith. Stands to reason that we’d learn more about them.”

Wooley hesitated. “That’s probably true. We’re prepared differently for different battalions. But we don’t think that’s the only thing.”

“How we hate the Jedi?” As if hating the Jedi was a 501st ‘problem’? “The 212th should hate the Jedi as much as we do. You deal with Qui-Gon Jinn all day.”

“General Jinn saved my life!” 

Rex halted hard. Wooley had actually worked himself up, bursting with anxiety and strangeness. He said the sentence as if it was tremendously important - as if it was some kind of refutation of his point. “So?”

“ So ? I was taken captive by the Seppies, and he rescued me personally. He risked his life to do it. I’m not saying he’s not the most aggravating person to ever exist, and he’s still a damn dirty Jedi, but - no real Mandalorian would ignore that. How could I?”

That was right. Jinn had rescued a handful of 212th from captivity, hadn’t he? Obi-Wan had talked about how cool it was for days. Anakin had oscillated between being proud of Jinn and insecure about Obi-Wan’s admiration. Rex had completely forgotten about that. 

Rex shrugged. “Nobody said he’s an incompetent general.”

“He’s a good person.” Wooley set his jaw, as if he knew that he was saying the most insane thing possible and had decided that his sanity was an acceptable loss. “Some of us don’t want him dead. And I don’t think we’re wrong for it.”

Rex stared at Wooley. Wooley was clearly already facing down the firing squad in his mind. 

Slowly, Rex said, “But you’re still going to kill him, right?”

“Of course we’re going to kill him.”

“Alright, so what’s the problem?”

They looked at each other. Wooley was doing his best to lock down his expressions. Rex could barely read him at all - could barely see anything beyond desperate confusion.

Finally, Wooley said, “I guess there’s not.”

“Good.”

They looked at each other in silence.

“Uh,” Rex said, out of sheer obligation, “your inappropriate feelings are natural. Some of the men have them. I’m not going to be a hardass about it. I know you’re a good soldier, Wooley. You clearly aren’t about to act on them, so I won’t report you.” Be super fucking hypocritical if he did. “But you and your friends need to stop harboring the thoughts. You need to recognize that you’re wrong. It’s - uh, it’s weak moral character.”

“I know, sir,” Wooley said. “I’ve tried recognizing that I’m wrong. I’ll keep trying, I guess.”

“All you can do.” Ask Rex how he fucking knew. “Was this all you had to say?”

But Wooley just looked frustrated. Not even at himself. At Rex, of all people. “I know you’re right, Captain. It’s the rational thing to think. But whenever I even allude that some Jedi aren’t evil to a 501st man, they completely flip out on me. They won’t hear any of it. I told Jinx that Jinn saved my life and he just started - ranting about how it was probably some trick. It made no sense. I get that they have to die, Captain, but do they really all have to be horrible people? Because I - I’ve never actually met a Jedi who was a bad person, Captain.” 

Immediately, Rex said, “Pong Krell.”

“His clone commander bumped him off two months into the war. He was a Dark Sider, Dooku specifically recruited him to tarnish the Jedi reputation. Fox admitted it.” More like ‘Fox had casually mentioned it and everybody else had an aneurysm’. “Can you think of anyone else besides the Dark Sider Jedi?”

“No,” Rex said shortly, “because I don’t sit around and think about that. You shouldn’t either. It doesn’t matter if they’re Rylothian saints or Mandalorian devils, Lieutenant. The Empire can’t rise if they’re alive. You do want the Empire to rise, don’t you?”

Wooley - hesitated. 

“Lieutenant, I didn’t just see you hesitate.”

“No, sir,” Wooley said quickly. “Of course I do. Very much, sir, it’s all I’ve ever wanted. But - a man has to ask questions. It’s only natural. We’re thinking, feeling individuals. The only clones who don’t are the 501st. You’re the first 501st man I’ve ever seen go against the grain, and I know it’s only for the sake of the young lord. Do you know what I mean? Do you see it?”

“The Jedi are filth, Lieutenant.” Why was Rex growing angrier and angrier? Wooley wasn’t saying anything he didn’t know - anything Rex hadn’t thought. But something about it was just so off. Something about it made Rex feel so defensive. “If you think otherwise, you’re the problem. The nice Jedi, the kind Jedi, the ‘good’ Jedi - filth, all of them. The 501st know this better than the other battalions because we hold the honor of eradicating their pestilence. If we’re different from the rest of the GAR, then that’s why.”

Wooley’s eyes widened. 

“Yes, Captain,” Wooley said faintly, “I…think you’re right. I understand now.”

“Good. This conversation never happened.”

“Yes, sir,” Wooley said hastily. “I take responsibility for my inappropriate thoughts. I’ll bring the rest of the appropriate 212th into line, sir. You’ll never hear of this again.” 

“What did I hear?” Rex asked - which, of course, was the only thing to say when hearing things like that. 

Wooley left at lightspeed, and Rex couldn’t help but feel as if he’d disappointed him somehow.  

Anakin Skywalker stalked across the shipyard, and Rex followed him.

Rex hurried to keep up with him, boots clicking against the duracrete of the shipyard. The part of Rex’s mind that was constantly ‘on’ registered that the shipyard was empty, that the only sound was the endless humming of a fleet of droids performing upkeep and maintenance on the starfighters. No droid ever touched Twilight - it was touched by Anakin’s hands only. He didn’t trust anybody else with its maintenance. 

Obi-Wan had been begging for his own starfighter for years, and he had begun getting surly about it. They were keeping it a secret, but Anakin had been working on building Obi-Wan’s starfighter from scratch for months. Anakin had been excitedly chatting to Rex about how happy Obi-Wan was going to be for even longer than that. Rex was pretty sure that he had insisted on building it from scratch partly because he didn’t trust anybody else to make it for him. He could already tell that the only people allowed to maintain Obi-Wan’s ship would be Anakin and Obi-Wan. Would probably even just be Anakin, but Anakin had always wanted to pass on more knowledge about mechanics and shipbuilding than Obi-Wan had been strictly willing to learn. 

“General, this isn’t a good idea. There'll be civilian casualties guaranteed. If we wait a week for the reinforcement battalion, the -”

“We can’t afford to wait a week,” Anakin snapped. His long brown robe billowed behind him, snapping with every step of his long strides. “I won’t let Grievous escape again. The fool’s been avoiding a battle with me for years because he knows he’ll lose. I’m done allowing him to make a mockery of me.”

“You can’t let the pathetic coward get to you. He’s baiting you, can’t you see that? He knows you’ll react like that, that you’ll do this. Trust me, General, you’re very predictable.” The transport ships towered over them, silent sentinels in chrome armor. Anakin stopped walking, and Rex fell to a stop behind him. Good, that always meant Rex had interrupted his hyperspeed train of thought and gave him room to see sense. “Following General Jinn’s tactical plan is the safest -”

Anakin backhanded him. 

Rex wouldn’t have avoided the hit, but he hadn’t even had the chance. He rolled with the blow on instinct, but the blow still carried Anakin’s superhuman power. Rex felt rung like a bell. Clones were highly resistant to concussions, but he’d have to check with Kix later just to be sure. 

“Tactical plan?” Anakin snarled. “It’s weak! We need to take decisive action against the Separatists once and for all, and Qui-Gon’s soft heart is -” 

It was only then that Anakin realized what he’d done at all. He stared at Rex, hand dropping, horrified. Rex didn’t quite know what to do in this situation. Keep it blank and professional? That had always been the playbook. But Anakin might not want that. Look a little abashed, ashamed of his own behavior? He couldn’t tell what to do. Looking at Anakin’s face, searching the man he knew so intimately, he could only see that Anakin hadn’t wanted this at all. 

“Rex. Rex, oh no, I’m so sorry.” Anakin was in front of him, the heat radiating from his body almost tangible even through the armor. He grabbed Rex’s arms, looking him up and down as if he might have spontaneously generated a stomach wound. “Rex, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to do that. I - I shouldn’t have done that. You’re not going to tell anyone, are you?”

That, at least, was easy. “No, sir,” Rex said, aiming for that specific zone of ‘calming without making it remotely obvious he was calming’. “It’s alright, I was being insubordinate.”

“That’s not - that’s not the point , Rex, fucking hell. I’m so sorry. I’ve just been like this lately, and I’ve been so stressed, and things have just been coming out - nobody has to know, right?” Something terrible obviously occurred to Anakin, and his grip tightened. “Especially not Obi-Wan. Force, not Obi-Wan. You won’t tell him. He’s already seen - and I’ve already been - we can’t let Padme or Obi-Wan see this stuff.”

“Nothing’s changed,” Rex said. He ought to say something that would get Anakin to let go of him. “We’ve talked about this, yeah? Nobody’s ever needed to know.”

“Rex, please,” Anakin begged, grip on Rex’s forearms tightening. “You’re good at hiding things from Obi-Wan. Make sure he’s out of the way, okay? Stop me from making a mistake!”

“Sir, it’s alright. You’re a strong leader and a good brother.” Wow, Rex’s vision was doubling. Kix was definitely in order after this. “You haven’t made an error in judgment before, and you won’t start now. Obi-Wan knows that. He doesn’t resent you.”

Anakin stared at him in horror. He released Rex’s arms, backing up a few steps. Rex had the sense he’d just said something wrong again . He just couldn’t win with Anakin lately. 

“You’re just telling me what I want to hear,” Anakin said, dizzy and sick. “You’re just obeying me. You’re not my friend.”

Fuck, fuck, fuck ! Seriously? This late in the game, Rex was getting made? After everything they’d done, everything they’d been through together - now Anakin was saying they weren’t friends?

Of course Rex was made now. Of course Anakin hadn’t caught him last year, the year before that. Rex would have called him a friend back then. Now, Rex would only call him a friend if someone was listening. The type of person Anakin had become - he was a strong leader, a great man, a powerful warrior that would soon become the best of Siths. There was no room to be Rex’s friend. 

But, in the privacy of his own mind, Rex still called him Anakin. He didn’t know what that meant. He only knew that he didn’t want to stop - that once he stopped, once he called him Vader again, something would be lost. And that Rex didn’t actually want to lose it. Or he didn’t want to admit that he already had. 

As steadily as he could - knowing it wasn’t that steady at all, Rex said, “Sir, I’ve -”

“Call me master!” Anakin screamed, and this time Rex couldn’t help but flinch back. “Go on, do it!”

“You don’t want me to do that!” Rex cried, exasperated. “Sir, please, you’re just -”

“Do it!” Anakin screamed. “Stop lying to me, just do it !”

“Just calm down -”

“That’s an order , Rex!”

What else could he do? Two concussions in two minutes had long-term health consequences. “Master, I’ve always -”

“ Shut up !”

And Anakin began to cry. Hot, furious, desolate. Looking at him, looking at the horrified expression on his face, Rex could see that Anakin had lost a strand of hope in his world. They were the tears of a man who didn’t have much hope left to lose. 

“I’ve never had a friend,” Anakin said. “I’ve never had a single friend.”

Rex didn’t say anything. He didn’t know how to make this better. 

Maybe because he wasn’t meant to. Maybe Rex had only been given that dossier to make everything so much worse. Rex should probably be feeling accomplished right now. He didn’t. His head just hurt. 

After a few scorching seconds, Anakin raised his head. He wiped his face with the sleeve of his robe, staring Rex down. He was running hot, full of fire burning on the fuel of something deep inside of him. 

“Salute me, Rex.”

Rex had no idea what to do. The orders were helpful. He saluted.

“Stand at attention.”

He stood at attention.

“At ease.”

Rex fell out of attention. 

Anakin ground his teeth, contemptuous of a newly uncovered aspect of Rex. Rex wasn’t entirely  sure which one it was. There were a lot of things about him to hold in contempt. “You want an order , Rex? Keep Obi-Wan out of it. Keep him away from all of this. Don’t let him be hurt. Keep him safe. But don’t pretend to be his fucking friend about it.”

What Anakin knew, and what he refused to say, was that he was asking Rex to keep him safe from Anakin. A coward to the end. A coward at the end. He used to be braver. Hadn’t he?

“Yes, sir.”

Anakin sneered down at him, and the powerful hate just felt like something else. “At least you won’t turn against me.” Anakin turned away, turning his back to Rex. “I’m going for a flight. Don’t follow me. I’ll be back.”

“Ah - yes, sir.”

Rex left. 

Due to the probable concussion, he reported to Kix first. Kix checked for the concussion and applied bacta to his cheek. Rex recommended that he pull out the high grade stuff - unnecessary, but Anakin wouldn’t want to be reminded of this. 

“What about you?” Kix was one of the very few brothers who was inscrutable even to the rest of them. It was almost always impossible to tell what he was thinking or feeling. He probably got training in that sort of thing as a medic, but he was blanker than even the other medics. It was impossible to tell what he was feeling now. “How are you holding up?”

Rex forced a small smile. “I can tell you weren’t in a command class.” Kix’s eyebrows furrowed, and Rex quickly said, “Wolffe gave me worse once a month. It’s just a bruise, Kix.”

“You know that’s not what I meant.”

Rex didn’t know why Kix was asking this. As if it was any of his business? His job was to patch the brothers up and send them on their way. He was legendarily non-famous for caring a shit about you beyond that. “It’s all part of the job. I’m not a whiner.”

“He’s only going to escalate.”

“I understood the risk when I accepted the mission,” Rex said, thoroughly uncomfortable and growing pissed. “Which is still an honor. I’ve always been proud to serve Lord Vader. Are you trying to get me to say that I’m not?”

Kix gave him an inscrutable look for a few seconds before shaking his head. “The bruise is gone. Might as well have never happened.”

“Good. Because it didn’t.” Rex grabbed his helmet, clipping it onto his belt. “Don’t tell anybody about this.”

“The Marshal Commander will -”

“If you tell the Marshal Commander you’re on radar duty for a month.” Rex turned away, wiping the last traces of bacta away from his cheek. “Thanks for your help.”

“Help with what?” Kix asked wryly, which was a good attitude.

Rex found a private room and called Cody.

He picked up on the fourth ring. The holo-image showed him sitting at his desk, undoubtedly writing up the battle assignments for the upcoming campaign. This campaign wasn’t even over yet and he was already thinking about the next one. That was the pace Cody lived at: break-neck and rapid-fire. It had been more break-neck than usual lately. The Emperor was grinding Qui-Gon Jinn into dust, and Cody was stuck by his side catching the shrapnel. The 212th was dying off at an unprecedented rate, and it was giving Cody bags under his eyes. Nobody had said that their psychological tortures against the Jedi would feature clone casualties. Maybe they shouldn’t have had to.

Rex didn’t even give Cody a chance to speak. “We can’t give Obi-Wan to Lord Vader.”

Cody stared at him, exhausted. Rex set his jaw. 

Finally, Cody sighed and scrubbed his face. “Double check where Obi-Wan is.”

“He’s in the training salle, working on his Jar’kai.” Of course Rex had checked Obi-Wan’s tracer before saying anything remotely incriminating. He knew Obi-Wan. “We can’t give Obi-Wan to Lord Vader.”

“I’m not in the mood for your shit again, Rex.” Cody didn’t look like he was in the mood for literally anything but sleep, food, and telling Obi-Wan bedtime stories. “I’m done having this conversation. Get back to work.”

“You don’t understand,” Rex said, and something in his voice must have stopped Cody short. “We cannot give Obi-Wan to Lord Vader. It is not safe. Forget it being - good for him, or what he would want, or the best environment. It just is not safe. If we let it happen, Obi-Wan will be in very serious danger.” 

“Are you insinuating that Lord Vader can’t protect Obi-Wan?” 

“Of course not, that’s ridiculous. I’m saying that Obi-Wan needs to be protected from Lord Vader.”

Cody scoffed. “You can’t be serious. Lord Vader turns his sword on his enemies, not his allies.” Rex fought a flinch. “Lord Vader would raze the Jedi to protect Obi-Wan. You’re imagining problems that don’t exist.”

“I know Anakin better than his damn wife,” Rex said sharply. “I know him better than his masters, his padawan, his friends. I have memorized and learned and experienced everything about him. Listen to what I am saying. Maybe it won’t be the first month, or the third, or the sixth. But Lord Vader is going to hurt Obi-Wan, and he’s going to hurt him badly. We can’t allow the hand-over to happen.”

Cody’s mouth tightened. “And why do you say that?”

Rex hesitated. 

There was a very solid reason why Rex would say that. It had turned a suspicion into proof. Maybe Rex could hope that Anakin would always treat a clone and a natborn differently, that he wouldn’t treat the people he loved how he treated the people he liked, but he knew Anakin too well for that. Rex knew exactly how the next few months were going to go, because Rex had personally ensured it. Rex knew how Darth Vader would begin, the personality traits and habits of Anakin’s that would dominate his destiny, and he knew exactly at what point.

Maybe he had hoped otherwise. Rex had known, but he had hoped. Anakin had a few hard-line moral codes embedded into his soul, and breaking the promise he made years ago in a dive bar was against them all. Even Cody would know that.

But that would involve telling Cody what had just happened. And -

Cody was stressed enough. Rex was always making trouble for him, worrying him, and Cody couldn’t stand it when he couldn’t do anything about it. Cody couldn’t do anything, and telling him might put him in a difficult spot between his three most important responsibilities, and things bad enough already. An entire squadron of the 212th had been wiped out on his last mission. It would just make things worse. It would force Cody into an impossible decision - telling him would only hurt him, and he was hurt enough already. And it wouldn’t change a thing. 

“If you can’t give me some kind of actual proof that living with his adoring brother is more dangerous than being a treasonous fugitive, then I don’t know the problem here.”

Something in Rex didn’t want anybody to know. He didn’t know why. This was what discipline looked like. It wasn’t exactly a foreign concept. Serving Darth Vader was an honor, his position was a blessing, and he would always be proud just to stand at his side. That opinion hadn’t changed. Rex and Anakin’s relationship had changed, but that hadn’t. Anakin hadn’t done anything wrong.

Discipline happened. It was nothing to be ashamed of. That was life.

Even so. He didn’t want to say it.

“I just know,” Rex said. “You have to trust me. I need to - we need to do something. We can’t let this happen.”

“We’re not letting it happen,” Cody said coldly. “We’re making it happen. And if you’re not making it happen, you’re against it happening. Are you really telling me that you’re against the Emperor’s ascension?”

“No,” Rex said. “I - No, of course not. No. Sorry.”

Rex almost never apologized for anything. If Cody noticed, he didn’t say anything. He just jammed the receiver, cutting the call short with a final hiss of static. “Don’t call me about this again.”

Rex sat in that empty meeting room for a while, willing himself to stand up from his chair. To walk up to Obi-Wan and tell him that Cody had assigned Rex a confidential individual mission and that Rex needed Obi-Wan’s personal help. Spin a story about the Bad Batch, that was a guaranteed win. To take a starfighter, register it for a long flight, buckle Obi-Wan into the co-pilot’s seat, and just - go.

Rex tried to stand up. He couldn’t. He just couldn’t do it. 

He regretted it even then. At that second - when he could still  fix everything, before it was too late - he regretted what he didn’t do. As if it had already happened, the mistake already made and the sin already committed, Rex regretted it. 

How did Obi-Wan put it? Always so desperately, pleading for them to understand something that they weren’t allowed to acknowledge was happening? How did he always describe it?

The mistake had been made. The mistake was being made. The mistake will be made. 

At that moment, for the very first time, Rex understood what Obi-Wan meant. It had been too late from the beginning. 

Over the course of the next two months, Anakin hit him four more times. Threw a datapad at him, once. It was always an explosion, his famous and irrepressible temper making him fly off the handle. Anakin - who had pretended that the fracturing of their relationship hadn’t happened, that nothing had changed - had always apologized and swore that he couldn’t control himself. Rex had to see Kix every time, and every time Kix said nothing.

Rex really only minded the fact that he kept on apologizing. Strong leaders didn’t back down. They stood their ground. If Anakin wanted to punish him for being insubordinate, then that was his prerogative. Rex only got pissy about it once, when he snapped at Anakin to stop apologizing and own up to his behavior. Anakin really hadn’t liked that one. Rex didn’t understand why he never stopped being insubordinate. Even after all this time, maybe he still wanted to be just like Cody after all.

It was strange, though. Anakin always said that he couldn’t control himself. But he never did it where anybody could see.

“Why aren’t I staying with you?”

Rex shrugged, faux-helplessly. “Chancellor’s orders. Maybe he thinks you’d be way more helpful actually fighting the Seppies than guard duty on Coruscant. Hey, it’s not the first time you’ve been swapped between battalions like a hot tuber, right?”

The argument failed to convince the extremely unimpressed Obi-Wan. Obi-Wan had gotten a little frosty with Rex lately. He said that Rex apologized for Anakin too much. Rex had just been trying to help, but watch Obi-Wan care about that. “It feels more like you’re trying to get rid of me.” 

“It's the Chancellor's orders,” Rex repeated. Seriously, what the hell was he supposed to say here? “Not mine. We’ll see each other again once you finish up on Utapau, alright?”

Obi-Wan’s mouth twisted like he was sucking on sour fruit, but he jerked his head in a nod anyway. “Master needs the break. He’s been acting like a total freak lately. Make sure he gets some rest.”

“Doing my best.” Rex had not been doing that. He’s basically been doing the opposite. An extremely zonked out Fox had given him some very specific instructions for the end of it all, and Rex had been forc - was honored to complete them. Maybe Anakin could tell? Maybe that was why he hated him these days. Rex didn’t like being in a room alone with him anymore. This used to be fun. “The 212th will wrap up the campaign in no time, so just try not to give Cody any more grey hairs until you get back.”

Obi-Wan just rolled his eyes. “Without Master or you, Cody’s life is easy str -”

Obi-Wan stopped hard. His eyes widened, and he stumbled a bit. Fucking hell. Rex knew what that nauseous look meant.

It was almost a surprise that he even noticed. Apparently Obi-Wan’s ‘bad feelings’ had been so incessant lately that he had just given up on complaining about them. Everybody had breathed a sigh of relief. Fox’s heads-up to the 501st and 212th that the End Was Nigh was met with a universal, ‘Yes, Obi-Wan has not let us forget it’. 

Obi-Wan re-focused on Rex, and that look of rising horror was more than familiar. Rex mostly saw it aimed at other people, though - Obi-Wan very rarely predicted terrible doom in Rex’s future. Made him feel a bit special, honestly. It made Cody kind of suspicious, but Rex had always told him to count his blessings. At least Rex himself gave Obi-Wan terrible feelings literally all of the time. Would probably be a bit worrisome if he didn’t. The only guy who never freaked Obi-Wan out was Gregor. Case in point.

Still, there were things you had to say. Rex furrowed his brow, looking concerned. “You alright, Commander? You look a bit tired.”

This was the part where Obi-Wan said, ‘why yes, I am quite tired, time to go lie down and repress the horrors of my existence’. He always took the out. But Obi-Wan just stared at him, sense of horror growing and growing. It didn’t feel great. 

“Rex,” Obi-Wan breathed. “I’ll…I’ll see you again.”

Wow, that wasn’t typical. Normally Obi-Wan’s portents of doom featured a lot of solemn forever goodbyes. His goodbyes to every Jedi he’d met for months were getting increasingly frantic and depressed. It was honestly kinda funny. The other battalions were always looking at the 501st like ‘is this adorable yet depressed child for real?’ and the 501st would silently and invisibly clap in a very ‘congratulations on your imminent successful Jedi extermination’ manner. 

It was honestly more worrying when he didn’t. Obi-Wan had said a very casual goodbye to Ferus Olin, which had prompted Rex to pull aside his clone commander and sternly tell him to do a very good job killing Olin. The guy had clearly felt very harangued.

So Rex just tilted his head, faking confusion. “Uh…I hope so? Don’t really think a Seppie’s going to jump out from behind a corner and knock me off in the middle of Coruscant, Commander.”

“Yeah. I - uh, yeah. God of exhaustion, I’m sick to fucking death of this.” Obi-Wan scrubbed a hand over his face. The god of exhaustion had been getting a big work-out lately. “Okay. I’ll…I’ll definitely see you later, Rexter. I’m - I’m sorry. That…” Obi-Wan pressed a hand over his mouth, swallowing more nausea, before speaking again. “I’m sorry that we’ve kinda been on the outs lately. When I see you again - let’s spar, okay? One last time? I still have to beat you.”

Despite everything, Rex could only smile helplessly. “I’m looking forward to it. So come back quick, alright? I have to beat your shebs again.”

“Yeah,” Obi-Wan said. “I won’t be long. When I see you again - I’ll win for sure, okay?”

Obi-Wan turned his back and ran off. He didn’t get very far before turning around and running back to Rex. He captured him in a hug, squeezing Rex as tightly as he could. Rex had to fight not to wheeze. Damn, the strength of this lineage. 

Obi-Wan buried his head in Rex’s chest plate. Rex cautiously wrapped his arms around him, and in a strange mimic of Cody he found himself putting his hand on the back of his head. Holding him like this, as if you and only you stood between this child and the galaxy…Rex understood Cody just a little more.

If Rex could, he’d petition Jango to let Obi-Wan into the command course. He’d hover and tease and stick by him. He’d take a command post at his side, just to keep an eye on him. He’d take the blows meant for him. He’d do anything, fucking anything , to protect him from the person who was already hitting Rex.

That little bit of understanding - the glimpse of what it meant to be a big brother, the protector of a vulnerable and lonely kid - made Rex no longer capable of understanding Cody at all.

“I love you,” Obi-Wan muttered into his chest plate. “I really do, okay?”

“Yeah, kid,” Rex said, squeezing him tight. “Me too.”

Rex’s conviction lasted one second. Maybe two. Three, if only because he was defective. 

And then all conviction was lost, and Rex opened his arms. He let Obi-Wan rub at his nose and turn away, and he watched Obi-Wan run away into a future of danger and heartbreak. He didn’t follow him, and he didn’t rescue him. He didn’t say a single thing. He just watched. 

Obi-Wan died shortly thereafter. 

Nobody was certain how. Rex hadn’t been there for the hand-off - too busy on the damn suicide mission Cody assigned him to take out Ahsoka Tano. Rex only knew that the 212th had orders to pass Obi-Wan off to Anakin, and that the Twilight had been destroyed in an escape attempt. He only knew what Ahsoka Tano told him: that Anakin Skywalker had confessed to murdering his padawan before attempting to murder her. 

Maybe it had been the plan since the beginning. Maybe Anakin Skywalker was always meant to kill Obi-Wan Kenobi. Everything had happened as it ought to happen, and Anakin had become the person he was destined to become. Rex had made sure of that. 

Anakin, who shouldered all the blame and killed them all. Anakin, the only blameless one. 

Anakin was the only villain in this sordid play that hadn’t read the script. If it was his fault, then it was Rex’s fault too. The 501st’s fault. It was the whole damn galaxy’s fault - every lifeform who had stumbled their way into cruelty, and every lifeform who had walked into it with eyes wide open. 

But it was Cody who Rex hated.

Cody had been Obi-Wan’s father. Cody had taken responsibility for his life, and sworn to protect it. He had promised to treasure his one and only son, and give him everything that Cody and Rex never had. Cody had known the right thing to do. He knew that Darth Vader was dangerous, that handing him over would end in disaster. He just hadn’t given a shit. He hadn’t done anything about it. Not because he was scared or tricked or stupidly fucking faithful. Because it wouldn’t be good for his career .

It was Cody. 

Chapter Text

Rex spent the first two weeks of the Empire in Ahsoka Tano’s brig. 

Ask him why. Go ahead, ask him why. Was it because of his sparkling personality? Was it because he had respectfully declined his sacred mission of wiping the Jedi pestilence from the galaxy? Did he want to sleep in, perhaps? Of course not. He had just felt a little lazy, and -

Just kidding. Rex had spectacularly failed his assassination mission, because their planned distraction of her people’s genocide didn’t even phase Tano . She had killed the five other brothers stuck with Rex on his suicide mission. She had only left Rex alive. 

Rex spent the first few hours of the Empire in a medically induced coma. Apparently Tano had tried to use the Force to knock him out and keep him out, but he had just faked sleep before leaping upwards and trying to strangle her.

Rex didn’t remember this. His first strong memory after Tano beat him unconscious was the smell of smoke, acrid and ashy, and the lingering traces of burned flesh. The first thing he could remember hearing was Tano throwing up in the fresher. She had tied him to a handrail in her bedroom, so the bored Rex settled for yelling curses at her.

Tano stumbled into her cabin/makeshift brig eventually, wiping vomit from her mouth and eyes wild. Her leather shirt had holes singed through it, with bacta patches sloppily shoved into the crevices. Rex sneered at her, but she barely seemed to see him. She just shambled forwards, like the tall and regal undead, and withdrew her two lightsabers from her belt. Rex, who had just seen those lightsabers chop off five heads in the span of seconds, tensed.

It wasn’t the ship that smelled like smoke. It was Ahsoka Tano - of smoke and scalded flesh.

Tano lit both sabers, the dual snap-hiss sickeningly reminiscent of being on the wrong side of Lord Vader’s ire, and approached Rex until her boots scraped his bent knees. She was tall, and looked even taller when Rex had to crane his head to look into her wild eyes. 

Wild, but not alive. There was something thoroughly dead in them. Pity they didn’t match the rest of her. 

The lightsabers blurred, smears of white scrubbing the air, and the white blades were scissored over Rex’s throat before he could blink. Their cold heat scalded Rex’s neck, held at the underside of his jaw just above the edge of his body glove, and they would burn a hole through Rex’s throat if he moved a centimeter in either direction. Rex began breathing very, very carefully. He had survived more near-death situations than he could count, but something about the heat and buzz of the lightsabers made him achingly aware of his death held at bay by mere centimeters and a hateful woman’s mercy.

“What do you know,” Tano breathed, “about Order 66?”

Rex glared at her, his attempted fierce expression undercut by his frantic lean away away from the sabers. He didn’t get very far. “Fuck you, traitor. Long live the Empire.”

“Wrong answer.”

With no hesitation, Tano pressed one of her lightsabers to his throat for a brief second. That brief second felt like eternity. Rex screamed, convinced his throat was melting, and his vision whited out for a second before two white beams of light swam back into view. Two white beams of light, and one implacable face with crazy eyes.

Ah. They weren’t wild or dead. They were just fucking crazy. Like this lady.

“One more time,” Tano said. “Before I have to find a replacement clone to interrogate.”

“No clone would ever betray the Empire to you!” Rex hissed. The heat of the lightsabers made him feel like a hand was squeezed around his neck. “We follow Darth Vader with loyalty! You Jedi don’t know the meaning of the word, traitor !”

Tano’s face was blank. And evil. Blank and evil and homicidal. Yeah, Rex hoped that one stung. She was the first to betray Lord Vader. But Tano’s loss was the Emperor’s gain, and she was going to feel that one real soon. “Darth Vader, huh. I knew you knew something. You had looked at him so strangely.”

What? No he hadn’t. How would she know? They had met, like, once. Tano had randomly showed up six months ago and the Jedi command had started fawning all over her. Lord Vader had bounced around her like a nexu pup. He had introduced Rex as his second in command and best friend. Even Obi-Wan was shyly enamored of her, and boy did that piss Cody off. Rex learned much later that she had tried approaching Qui-Gon Jinn with her suspicions about the clone’s loyalty and he had blown her off. Apparently she had a reputation as a conspiracy theorist. Hilarious. 

Ahsoka Tano had known something was wrong. Like Obi-Wan, she had known the truth that she couldn’t prove. Nobody had believed either of them. Unlike Obi-Wan, she hadn’t let on her suspicions to the clones. Almost as good a liar as they were. 

But she had watched Obi-Wan slip the Jedi encampment and run to the clone encampment, expression unreadable. Cody had seen her look. In an uncharacteristic move of public affection, he had slung his arm around the ecstatic Obi-Wan and drew him a little closer. Knowing that she had suspicions, that she had to sit there and watch Cody take Obi-Wan from her - it made the current indignities a little easier to bear. It wasn’t often you got to score a hit against the great and terrible Ahsoka Tano. The only way in was through her family.

“I knew that he was destined for greatness,” Rex bragged. “The Emperor saw his potential when nobody else did. Us clones were built to serve him. I’ll be serving at Lord Vader’s side long after he exterminates the last of the Jedi blight.” 

Tano’s eyes narrowed infinitesimally. As if she was realizing something? Rex wasn’t giving her any information, right? He was just saying very true and genius facts about how great Lord Vader was. “ Lord Vader must have planned this with you very carefully.”

Natborns didn’t know anything. It was almost funny. Would be funnier if they weren’t holding lightsabers to his neck. “Are you kidding? He didn’t have to lift a finger. We prepared everything for him.” Rex grinned, letting the blood shine on his teeth. “The Emperor trusted me to prepare him. I fulfilled my mission well, didn’t I?”

So quickly he could barely see it, Tano dropped one lightsaber into another hand and jammed her fist into his gut. 

It felt like a hit from a battering ram. Rex immediately spat blood onto his armor, and he wheezed as he watched thin rivulets of blood stream over the curve of his armor. Stinging blood dripped from his lips onto the armor, sending the stream flowing. 

The lightsabers buzzed closer to his ear, Rylothian stinging flies nipping at his ears, and they sang a strange song to Rex. 

“What do you know,” Tano said, “about Order 66?”

Fuck, this bitch was crazy. 

“I - I know we won,” Rex panted. Bile rose up in his throat. He could smell his own singed hair. “The Deathless Emperor will reign with the powerful Darth Vader at his side. The Empire’s risen, and you traitorous Jedi fell .”

“I killed Vader two hours ago.”

“What? No you didn’t.”

The lying woman who told bizarre and very rude lies stared at him, unimpressed. 

Helpfully, Rex added, “No you didn’t. That’s impossible. Lord Vader’s the strongest in the galaxy.”

The demented fucking woman just stared down at him, cold eyes growing colder. “I’ve fought tougher.”

Rex stared at her. After long enough, Tano’s expression shifted from frigid apathy to a hint of curiosity. She had seen something in Rex’s stare. Rex wanted him to tell her what she saw. Rex wasn’t seeing anything in anything right now. There was no more Rex. 

“That’s impossible,” Rex repeated, as if his weak words could penetrate her durasteel walls. “That can’t happen. That’s not how this works. You - you just don’t know how this works.”

Tano stared down at him, expression hard, before finally deactivating her lightsabers and tossing them on her cot. Rex exhaled in relief, every muscle in his body untensing. He hadn’t realized how much those things were freaking him out until they were gone. 

Then she withdrew a lightsaber from her belt, holding it above Rex’s head. He recognized it instantly. He could recognize it from any angle, at any distance. He knew that lightsaber as well as he knew his own blaster. He knew that Lord Vader would never let this woman take it. It was the last vestige of his weakness that he would soon abandon, but he wouldn’t let this woman seize the weakness. There was only one way she could have gotten her dirty hands on it. 

“Anakin’s gone?” Rex whispered. 

Tano’s eyes widened. It was a small motion, but Rex knew that she was shocked. He didn’t care. He couldn’t rip his eyes away from the lightsaber. She may as well have been holding Anakin’s severed limb.

Slowly, Tano crouched down in front of him. She held the lightsaber far out of his reach, but she watched the way his eyes tracked it. Tano watched him so carefully - more than scrutinizing him, almost dissecting him. It was unsettling. Natborns weren’t supposed to look at you like that. 

“I’m sorry,” Tano said. She said it so strangely, as if she really meant it. “I was too late to save him. Almost a decade too late, I think. He was already gone by the time I got there. I relieved his suffering.”

Something hot burned in Rex’s chest. It felt a little like Anakin, and something much older. “His suffering?”

“He believed that he killed his family,” Tano said simply. “I think he allowed me to do it.”

Rex shook his head, lost.

Something that Rex couldn’t interpret creased Tano’s expression. “Your sadness is genuine and deep. How strange.” She reached out a hand, and Rex couldn’t help it - he flinched, hard. Her hand halted, before she slowly reached out and traced her fingers over the curves of his face. “You truly cared for him, didn’t you?”

Rex didn’t say anything. Apparently he didn’t need to.

“Well,” Ahsoka Tano whispered, “at least I’m not the only one.”

She wasn’t. They had both killed him.

Through the shock, one thought permeated. It was as powerful as Tano’s punch, and three times as destructive. It shattered everything else around it - the frantic buzzing flies praising the Emperor, hating the Jedi, ranting about how amazing the Empire would be. Something returned to Rex, snapping back into the empty place. It was, of course, the one thing he had never wanted to lose.

Had Rex’s thoughts been cloudy? Had he been saying weird things? He couldn’t remember. He could barely even tell. Something was wrong, something was uncertain and shifting - a fortress built on air and dark flies speaking through his mouth. But one thing was clear.

Rex surged forward, pushing past Tano’s hand and pulling at his restraints. Tano backed away, sliding Anakin’s lightsaber back in her belt and calling her own lightsabers to her hands in bare seconds. Rex barely even noticed. 

“Obi-Wan!” Rex cried, and Tano froze. “What about Obi-Wan?”

Tano’s expression shuttered, and a shadow of hatred passed her expression for the first time. “Did you prepare him too, clone?”

“What? What, no! That’s not - he’s in danger! Without Anakin, the Emperor’s going to want him next! You have to save him! Help him, please !” Thought after thought blew away, and Rex found himself sinking into genuine fear. “He’s your grandpadawan. You cared about him, I saw it. Please, for Qui-Gon, you have to save him from the Emperor!”

Sharply, Tano said, “I thought you would never betray the Empire.”

“It’s Obi-Wan !”

To Rex, that was all. Nothing else was important - even here, even now. Rex couldn’t save him, he couldn’t save fucking anyone, he couldn’t save Anakin - but Tano could. Nobody had trapped her and tied her down. She was still free.

Tano stared down at him, expression cold. Eyes flat. Eyes insane. 

“Obi-Wan’s dead. It seems that your glorious Empire has destroyed everything you once cared about.”

Rex stared at her for what felt like a very long time.

Finally, he said, “Did you kill him too?”

“I may as well have,” Tano said. “That’s something else we have in common.”

“I hate you.”

“And a third thing.”

Regular soulmates, they were. 

Tano locked him in her cabin with redoubled restraints. It was boring, so Rex amused himself by cursing at her. Tano amused herself by screaming herself awake, throwing up in the fresher, and making them dinner. 

And interrogating him. Again and again and again. She held her lightsabers to his neck again, but she didn’t punch him. Rex tried to escape, to fight it, but there was only so much he could do. Under those kinds of tender ministrations, anybody would talk. It wasn’t Rex’s fault. He wasn’t telling her everything on purpose. She was making him, see?

After a certain point Rex had to realize that he was rehearsing for Fox. So he stopped. He stopped making her interrogate and torture him for information. And he told her it all. Kamino and Mandalore and all. Things he’d never told anybody - Jango’s cold eyes. What defects meant. What decommissioning meant. She made him say it. He hadn’t had a choice. Not a single choice, Fox, honest. 

She didn’t always say much, but that was alright. Rex was a little tired of staying silent. 

They moved planets at one point. Tano left the ship for long stretches at a time, and Rex stared at the floor. He tried not to think of Anakin and failed. He tried not to think of Obi-Wan and failed. 

Darth Vader came to mind easily enough. But Rex didn’t want to think about him either. Just - too disappointed that he was dead. Too shocked and disturbed. It wasn’t right. Darth Vader was supposed to reign at the Emperor’s side. Rex had spent the last three years assuming that Lord Vader would have a future. Out of everybody, he was the one with the future. The great destiny. He was a great man and Rex was proud to serve him and he was the strongest and he was unkillable and that was why he was dead. 

The most vile and disgusting corner of Rex’s soul was glad. Anakin had been suffering for a long time. To think that he’d been suffering so much that he hurt Amidala…it had to have been Obi-Wan’s death. The suffering would have been too much. 

Rex made the mistake of vocalizing this thought to Tano. He had assumed that her poisonous and evil self would connect with these poisonous and evil thoughts. But she just looked exhausted. 

“Forgiving him isn’t loving him.”

“It’s not my place to forgive him!” Rex snapped. “He’s the strongest leader. It’s my role as a good soldier to obey my leaders.”

Tano arched an unamused eyebrow. “I defeated him. Doesn’t that make me the strongest leader?”

Rex halted. It did, technically. 

She was decisive. Very decisive. She pressed lightsabers to his neck, which was…leaderly behavior. The only person who almost approached Lord Vader’s strength would have to be his teacher. She was an evil bitch who killed her own son - but didn’t she deserve respect as Lord Vader’s mother…? 

“No,” Rex eventually decided. “You’re of weak character.”

“You and the Jedi Council would get along.”

After a week - or two, everything was difficult - Tano finally crouched in front of him one last time. As always, Rex welcomed the distraction. His head was killing him. He was saying so much weird shit, and what he was thinking was even weirder. Tano seemed to find his weird shit interesting, so she kept on poking her lightsaber at him and making him say more of it. Rabid bitch. 

But she didn’t interrogate him today. She didn’t ask him about his opinions on the Empire, what the Kamino had taught him, or how many Sith Lords he had met. She just looked at him, eyes dull and driven. Whatever mission she was on, Rex could tell that it was the only thing propping her up.

“What are you going to do now, Rex?”

Rex squinted at her. Damn, lady, that sounded like it was pretty much up to you. “Get interrogated by you?” 

“I think I have everything that you’re able to give me.”

Weird phrasing, but whatever. “Then I’ll be killed by you.”

Calmly, Tano said, “Will you make me do that?” Rex’s eyes widened, and he straightened. It must have been obvious that Rex hadn’t expected to make it out of this one at all. “You’re the only insider into the Empire I have access to. Killing you would be a waste. Do you intend on making me kill you?” Rex silently shook his head. “Then what are you going to do now, Rex?”

It was an expansive question. It felt like a black hole in his gut, a yawning void stretching ahead of him. No path, no reason. “Do you plan on letting me go?”

“It depends on your answer to that question.”

“I swore revenge on Cody. I have to fulfill that oath and avenge Obi-Wan. I can’t die until I do.” Rex looked away, mouth twisting. “After that…there’s nothing for me. It doesn’t matter.”

“Marshal Commander Cody has been installed as the Marshal Commander of the 501st Legion, formed from the 501st and 212th battalions.” Wow. Good for him. Lost Obi-Wan, but guess he held onto his spot anyway. “Going against him would be going against the Empire. Are you willing to do that?”

“Of course not!” Rex snapped. “I’ll never sabotage peace and unity for my own grudge! If you’re trying to turn me against the Empire, you can -”

“So you’ll rejoin the military?”

“What, and work for Cody? Fuck you.”

“Hm.” Tano rose, and her hand drifted to her belt. Rex tensed, but she only withdrew a small chip. “Come with me.”

“Oh, are we killing me outside -”

Tano inserted the chip into the electrocuffs, and the restraints fizzled away. Rex promptly fell over. 

After far too long massaging feeling back into his legs - she hadn’t let him up to stretch and use the fresher nearly enough, in his opinion - Rex used the sonic and accepted the change of clothes Tano threw at him. They were billowing and thin, light and sweat-wicking. Desert clothes. He took the goggles Tano offered and followed her outside of the ship onto dry land. 

He hissed when the sun hit his eyes, and again when the second sun hit. The brightness was overwhelming, burning hot as the lightsabers, and Rex could barely look around his surroundings before Tano was impatiently shoving him towards another ship. It was directly beside Tano’s ship, and Rex realized that they must have been next to each other ever since Tano moved planets. It was a little weird to think that he’d been on a desert planet for at least a week without realizing it.

Sand whirled up, biting at the hems of Rex’s draping cloak, and he dragged his feet through the shifting tides.

The second ship was much nicer than Tano's. Nabooan, and it only took a few seconds to recognize it as a Nabooan Yacht. It took only a second after that to recognize it as Amidala’s ship. Tano had said that Lord Vader tried to kill Amidala, but she hadn’t said what happened to Amidala afterwards. Turns out that she’d been right here.

Tano climbed the boarding steps and knocked sharply on a door as Rex loitered awkwardly at her elbow and appreciated the novel sensation of standing.  An unfamiliar voice called out from within, and Tano grabbed him sharply by the arm before tugging him inside. 

The ship itself was obviously for pleasure, and unfairly big. It was a wreck, and the central area was cluttered with medical instruments. Sand had gathered on the floor, blown in from constant entry and exit, and Rex’s boots gritted on the soft carpet. 

A woman opened the door to Amidala’s cabin and waved them in. She had a kind face, but it seemed prematurely aged by a hard life. Tano led Rex inside the room, and when the woman nodded at Tano she didn’t nod back. Rex nodded back. He wasn’t impolite.

It took Rex a second to recognize that the small bundle in her arms wasn’t dirty laundry, and that it was a very, very young infant. A baby.

“How’s she doing?” 

“The same, I’m afraid.” The woman looked at Rex, who fought the urge to shift uncomfortably. “And who are you, stranger?”

Rex stared blankly at her. Natborn. Civilian natborn. Civilian natborn woman. Holding a baby, even. Fuck, Rex liked natborns more than the average guy and even he barely knew what to do with these people. He glanced at Tano, silently begging for aid. 

“A very dangerous person,” Tano said blandly. The woman’s eyebrows raised slightly. “I have him under control.”

“I see.” The woman shifted the child in her arms and held out her hand to Rex. “I’m Beru Whitesun. What’s your name?”

Fuck. Why was she still talking to him. Rex looked at Tano again. But Tano seemed to have caught something that he’d missed, because she didn’t react at all.

The days he used to have full conversations with these people seemed far away. He saw natborns shaking each other’s hand, but Rex had never done it. He was afraid of doing it wrong, so he didn’t even try. “CT-7567, sir.”

Evenly, yet with increasingly bad vibes directed entirely towards Tano, Beru Whitesun said, “Do you have a name you’d like to share?”

“Ca - Rex. Just Rex.” Rex couldn’t stop himself from shifting uncomfortably again. This light and flowing clothing felt so wrong on his skin. “I don’t really know what I’m doing here.”

“We’re visiting family.” Tano stepped fully inside of the cabin, and Rex could only follow her. “Mind yourself.”

Beru stepped inside with them, baby beginning to squirm and whimper in her arms, and where Tano and Rex stopped at the entrance she walked deeper inside the cabin. The room was dominated by a large bed, fluffy with plush comforters and downy pillows, and it took Rex a few seconds to even see that there was a person huddled underneath it all. 

It was Amidala, barely visible save for a heavy curtain of thick brown hair. Huh. That explained the baby. 

“Padme? You have visitors.” Beru approached the bed, unfolding the blankets around the baby’s face and exposing his wrinkly red visage to the world. “I have Luke with me as well. Do you want to hold him?”

Padme didn’t respond or move. She may as well be dead. The woman turned back to Tano, tilting an eyebrow - you see? Rex looked at Tano too, hoping against hope for an explanation. 

Why? He didn’t need one. Rex knew what had happened. Tano said that it was a miracle the babies survived at all. Rex knew it wasn’t. The babies were meant to live, so they had lived. The only miracle was Padme’s own survival. Tano must have saved her life. 

The only unexpected quarter was the fact that they were twins. For some reason, Rex had to enjoy that. The one unpredicted element in Rex’s galaxy, the first true surprise he had ever encountered. There wasn’t meant to be another. And yet there was.

“Leia’s inside the house with Owen, Padme.” Tano’s voice was bland and steady, as if she was telling Padme about extra formwork to fill out. Rex wondered if it was for Padme’s benefit or her own. “Should I bring her here?”

Padme didn’t say anything.

Tano looked at Rex, lowering her voice slightly. Rex realized for the first time that she hadn’t divested her attention from Rex since they stepped foot onto the ship - watching carefully for his reaction to the babies. “What were your orders regarding the children?” Rex shook his head - he had none. “What did the Emperor have planned for them?”

Rex gave her a tired look. “Do you really want to know?” Tano’s expression hardened. “Who knows that the babies are alive?”

“Myself, Owen and Beru, and you.” Rex reflexively asked her a question via blink, but she understood him anyway. “They’re Anakin’s family. I trust in their discretion.” What, like she trusted Anakin? “That’s enough.”

“Nobody can ever find out about them.” To Rex, it barely needed to be said. But he didn’t know how smart natborns were. Or how well they understood the severity of the situation. “The Emperor’s down two apprentices. He’s looking for replacements. If he learns about them, he’ll take them. The Emperor tends to get what he wants.” He turned to Beru Whitesun, who didn’t seem as spooked as she should. “Does anybody know about this ship?”

“There’s nobody but Jawas ‘round here for klicks on klicks. If you want remote, you got it.” To Rex’s horror, Beru stepped forward and gently passed the baby into Rex’s hands.  He dumbly took it, hands automatically moving to respond to hitherto undiscovered baby protocols. Why’d they program him with that ? All he needed to know how to do was kill them. And that was just a ‘point and shoot’ type thing. “I see you’re a natural. You have any siblings, stranger?”

“A few.” Rex looked down at the baby. Were babies supposed to look like that, all red and wrinkly and withdrawn? It looked like it wanted to disappear inside of itself, crawl back to wherever it came from. “It’s not very cute.”

“No, but we love them anyway.” If Beru was shooting him any more significant looks, Rex couldn’t tell. He couldn’t stop looking at it. It was like an alien species he’d never seen before. Bug eyes, all rounded corners and yielding flesh and red skin. It didn’t even blink up at him - it just existed, eyes closed, as if it knew inside that it belonged in any other place but here. “Do you have any place to stay?”

Uh. Rex looked at Tano. “Am I gonna go back to being tied up in your cabin after this?” Tano’s eyebrow twitched. Beru’s eyebrow did a very interesting thing. “Is that a yes?”

“Let’s talk in the ship bay, Ms. Ahsoka,” Beru said. 

“Hm,” Tano said. “Well. I shouldn’t leave Rex alone with Padme and the baby. So.”

“I’m sure they can manage five minutes.” 

“Um,” Tano said.

Somehow Rex had the sense that Tano wasn’t about to survive this encounter, but he didn’t care. He barely heard them leave. Every ounce of his attention was on the child in his arms. He could cradle it on his elbow, but it felt strange and ridiculous. His arm was all hard muscle, that couldn’t be comfortable. 

He pressed it against his body anyway, gently resting its head on his torso. He walked over until he stood at the edge of the bed, near where Padme’s hair was poking out. He bent down a little, before giving up and sitting down completely. He angled his head until he could see where Padme’s elbow was firmly pressed over her eyes, her hand digging into the bed. 

“You haven’t held them,” Rex said, “have you?”

Padme didn’t move. She didn’t say anything. 

“Hey, don’t get defensive on me. I don’t care.” Rex settled in, crossing his legs and bouncing the baby a little. “I assume that the noxious bitch filled you in. Can’t let me into a room with someone stupid enough to trust me, right?”

Padme still didn’t react. Was she capable? She reminded Rex of a droid that had been flipped off. Rex wondered if her off-switch had been located somewhere in her trachea. It was possible. 

“You’re not taking this well, huh.” Rex knew that natborns weren’t gonna be generally enthused about the Empire thing, but that was always generally placed in the mental pen of ‘their problem, not mine’. He wondered if he was sympathetic. “Want me to go drown ‘em?”

Padme’s head snapped up. She pushed herself up with one hand, and with the other she desperately swiped out to try and grab Luke out from Rex’s arms. He dodged her easily, keeping a wary eye on her face. With her hair bedraggled, curls limp with sweat, and her skin red and ruddy, he almost couldn’t recognize her. Her eyes were wild and foreign, and Rex recognized for the first time that she was lost. He could relate.

“Hey, relax.” It took no effort to keep the children out of her grasp. If this was her best effort, that would definitely be a future problem. If she was barely trying, that was a whole other fleet of problems. “Haven’t you heard? I’m practically a saint. Never killed a baby in my life. Can’t say that about most people I know.” 

Padme stared at him, for just a few moments, before gently falling back on the bed. As if the sheer act of sitting up was one of those insane acts of motherly adrenaline, and she had already lost the strength. She still didn’t say anything - believing, for the first time in her life, that there was nothing words could fix.

“So what are you gonna do with ‘em, then?” Rex rubbed a thumb on the back of the baby’s head. He had taken off his body glove, and feeling his bare flesh on such soft and supple skin felt a little too strange. He wasn’t sure how to be gentle. Everybody always said that babies needed gentle. Was that really true? “Should I give ‘em away? Drop ‘em off in a cantina? They can be raised by bartenders.”

Padme buried her head deeper into the pillow.

Or, most likely… “Let me guess. Beru looks like a competent and scary lady. She can probably take ‘em. Nobody important knows that she exists. Maybe she can raise them in secrecy. And that leaves you perfectly free to melt into your bed, right?” Padme didn’t say anything. “That leaves you perfectly free to lie here and die. Doesn’t it, Padme?”

“Don’t,” Padme said. “Don’t…”

“You should hurry up and die,” Rex said. He bounced her baby a little, out of the vague sense that he should. “You’re just wasting food and resources. If you’re going to die, then die. If you’re going to live, then live. Pick one.”

Padme moaned into the pillow, voice thick and hoarse. “I can’t…I can’t do this…”

“What, live? It’s easy. Just don’t die. Are you going to kill yourself, Padme?” Padme cracked open an eyelid, staring at him with a wild and familiar eye. “No. You won’t. So you’ll live. If you’re going to live, then you have to sit up. That’s all you have to do. Just sit up.”

“I can’t,” Padme whispered. “I can’t. I tried. I can’t feed them…”

“I’m not asking you to feed them. I’m asking you to sit up.”

“I can’t do it,” Padme gasped. Maybe she would have cried, but she was probably out of tears. Or out of the ability to feel enough to cry. “I can’t feed them. I can’t take care of them.”

“I’m not asking you to take care of them. I’m asking you to sit up.”

Rex waited. The baby made little snuffling baby sounds. Padme moaned loudly, and the baby made little noises back.

That seemed to do it. For whatever reason, that did it. Centimeter by agonizing centimeter, she pulled herself up. She dragged herself up until her back was resting against the headboard, her shoulders cutting into the curved wood. 

She looked awful. She wasn’t wearing a shirt - likely from aborted attempts to nurse - and her hair was matted on one side and stringy on the other. Something in her face was a distant cousin of Tano’s own - blank. Nothing. But the wind whistled through Tano’s nothing, and Padme’s nothing weighed down her body like hundred kilogram stones. 

Rex moved to the opposite side of the bed, sitting down next to her agonizingly slowly as he took care not to jostle the kid. Padme’s eyes fixed on the baby, almost magnetized. She couldn’t look away, no matter how much the sight of it seemed to upset her.

Rex carefully dislodged the baby from his shoulder and placed it on Padme’s chest. She put one thin and shaking hand on the back of its head, pressing it to her sternum, and breathed very slowly. 

“Ahsoka told me what you did,” Padme said. And she likely hadn’t been highly complimentary about it, either! “What do you want from me?”

What a strange question. As if clones lived to exploit and manipulate natborns. Like Rex didn’t have better things to do right now. He didn’t, but…

“Maybe I just feel sorry for you,” Rex said flippantly. “Don’t people feel sorry for people like you?”

“Not you.”

Rex relaxed next to her on the bed. He was dirtying the pristine white sheets, grinding sand into every crevice, but he could see that they were disgusting anyway. Damp with sweat and milk discharge. “You caught me. Every natborn - nonclones, people like you - that I’ve ever given a shit about is dead, thanks to that Togruta bitch back there. I think she’s still trying to find a use for me. Dunno why she hasn’t just put me out of my misery yet.”

“I asked her not to.” Even a natborn could see how surprised he was. Padme’s expression creased, and she looked harshly away. “Anakin loved you. He wouldn’t…he wouldn’t want her to…”

She began crying again, and Rex pretended not to notice. In just a few minutes she started flagging again, and Rex carefully took the child back as she fell over and buried herself back underneath the blankets. 

“I can’t do it,” Padme repeated. “Let someone else do it. I can’t. I just can’t.” She hitched a shallow, desperate breath. “I still need him.”

The baby made snuffling sounds, almost squeaks. It wasn’t like a little human at all. Who said children were little humans? It was some…weird species. Maybe they lived underground, burrowing through dirt and smelling their way through life with closed eyes. 

Padme couldn’t imagine it any more than he could. She couldn’t imagine those eyes opening, that mouth extending to a gummy smile. She couldn’t bring herself to consider all the sleepless nights, the endless nursings, every bottle and changed diaper. It was insurmountable. It was a roaring tidal wave, and she couldn’t move to get out of the way.

What if this kid liked dinosaurs when he grew up? What if he wanted to smile - smile at Rex? What if he liked school, even if he wouldn’t admit it? What if he wanted Rex, and Rex wanted him?

The thought of never knowing was a stab through the heart. Almost as bad as never knowing the man Obi-Wan would grow up to be. Never watching Obi-Wan be Knighted, never watching him take his own student. Rex would never beat him in a spar. Never tell Obi-Wan how he felt about him. Never beg for his forgiveness, never earn it. He would never grow into his own, proud and strong - if only because Rex had never allowed it.

Rex slid something into place piece by piece. It was a path that led away from the black hole in his chest. It didn’t fill it, it couldn’t fix it - but it could lead him away from the hard months, and let Rex turn his back on the ruin that he had made of his life.

“You told Tano to spare me because you wanted my protection, right?”

The sentence was bizarre enough that Padme actually opened her eyes. Rex was sitting upright against the headboard, cradling the little beast close to his chest, and Rex forced himself to look at the baby instead of her. He knew Padme was doing the same. This couldn’t be about either of them. 

“You know how loyal I am to Lord Vader,” Rex informed the baby. Informed her. “I’m a good soldier. My only purpose is to respect and obey my leader. You knew that I was ruined for the Empire, so you decided that Tano deserved my service. She’s powerful. I’d serve her. I can do for her what I did for Lord Vader.” 

Padme and the babies were in danger. They needed protection. They needed help. And Rex needed a mission. 

The career politician understood what he meant. She understood the reality that Rex was proposing. A world that Rex could understand, and that Padme and Tano needed. 

“Is this a favor to Anakin?” Padme asked sharply. 

“I’m a good soldier,” Rex said, and Padme knew that this was her favor to Rex. 

All she had to say was ‘yes’. Rex would swear fealty to the evil bitch he hated, Padme would get his protection, and he wouldn’t have to navigate the galaxy without somebody telling him what to do. Everybody wins. There were a lot of reasons not to do it - Rex’s everything, for one - but Padme knew that she needed a better bodyguard than a sadistic Togruta. She definitely would -

“That’s not what happened.” 

Rex made a face at Padme. She knew perfectly well what he had meant. But Padme just pushed herself up, arms almost trembling with the effort. Her hair hung in limp strands over her bare breasts. Something was returning to her wild eyes - a sharp gleam in the darkness. 

“I told Ahsoka to spare you because I wanted you ,” Padme informed him. Slow and steady and infringing upon insanity. “You agreed to serve me because you knew I am the strongest leader you are ever going to get. Better than Ahsoka Tano. Better than Darth fucking Vader.”

“Whoah,” Rex said, “you’re a depressed postnatal politician, lady. Let’s not get too wild.”

“No. Let’s. Because this is what’s going to happen.” Finally, Padme pushed herself fully upright. With strength that she hadn’t possessed only seconds ago, with a viciousness that she never had before. “You’re going to give me everything you gave the Emperor. All of the effort you put into ruining my government and family and life - you are going to put into serving me. Because I am going to fix what you broke.”

Hah. Hah! Serve this lady? She was thin as a twig. She couldn’t throw him one foot, much less across a room. “Are you kidding? I won’t serve someone who can’t get out of bed.”

With a weight so heavy that she may as well promise to extinguish the stars themselves, Padme said, “Then I’ll get out of bed.”

“Wow. Watch out, galaxy. Natborn bitch is getting out of bed.” Rex couldn’t help but grin. “You were never a ruler, Amidala . You’ve been a pawn since the start. A toy in the palm of the Emperor’s hand! You think that you’re a better leader than the damn Emperor?”

Immediately, Padme said, “I’ll prove that I’m better than him.”

“Yeah?” Rex asked, enjoying himself thoroughly. “How’s that?”

“I’ll destroy his Empire,” Padme said. “And you’re going to help me.”

Rex laughed. He knew it was hoarse and insane, just as insane as Padme and Tano, but he didn’t care. All three of them were going nuts together. Who cared? Rex had something that he wanted to see. 

“And how am I going to do that, huh? What, do you want a Kamino ready-to-order best friend too? Natborns always want that. Someone to tell you how great you are and how you’re always, always right. You want me to love you?”

“You wouldn’t be allowed to lie to me.” Padme’s eyes were raging, and Rex could see the fire spread. From her heart to her head, sending her alight. “I don’t want you. I just want what you can do for me. I don’t want love anymore.”

“Good, because neither do I.” Rex’s life was already ruined. He couldn’t take much more of love. “No more lies. No more fake friends or pretend families. Professional fuckin’ relationship, you and me. Then what do you want? Protection detail? Assassin?”

“You are going to keep my children alive.” Padme’s insane eyes were growing clearer, sharper - no less intense, but more focused. She needed a mission as badly as he did. “I have a war to fight. I won’t always be able to be there. I can’t provide for them or protect them. You’re going to give them everything I can’t.”

“A babysitter ?” Rex asked incredulously. “You want one of the finest Jedi assassins in the galaxy, Darth Vader’s right-hand man, as a babysitter ?”

“I’m accepting you as my babysitter,” Padme said, with a great and mighty conviction. “You’re welcome.”

“Are you sure you know what you’re doing, Padme?”

Rex jumped, making the baby mewl uncomfortably, and he twisted to see Tano leaning with her arms crossed against the door frame. She didn’t look very amused. Rex started watching her hands for lightsabers. 

But Padme just tilted her chin up, a familiar proud determination crossing her dainty features. “I’ll do this with or without you, Ahsoka.”

“Oh, I was waiting for you to decide to take down the Emperor. Thought it might take another week.” Tano pointed at Rex, who flashed his teeth in a vicious grin. “You don’t know his mind like I do, Padme. Those 501st clones are monsters. They’re the best murderers in the galaxy, but you can’t trust a word that comes out of their mouths. They only care about serving their Sith masters.”

“He asked for my help,” Padme said simply. “And he offered his own. We can’t afford to be picky.”

Tano visibly scanned her for postpartum psychosis. “What’s all this ‘we’ business?” 

“Come on, Ahsoka,” Padme said, and for the first time a shadow of humor crossed her face. “I think we’re all members of the galaxy’s worst club.”

That club was, of course, the reason why Rex had reached out his hand to her at all. Even if Rex was pretty sure that Tano wasn’t a member of the club that Rex was thinking about. It was close enough. 

He’d never had anything in common with natborns before. Seemed interesting. 

Tano’s expression tightened, but when her shoulders slackened Rex knew that they had her. “If Rex decides you’re not good enough to be his master, then you’ve dug your own grave.”

Rex laughed, strange and thin. “I think that’s a bonus to her.” 

Padme tactfully ignored both of them. “If you need a contract, I’ll sign it.”

“I’ll have faith in my lady’s word,” Rex said cheerfully. “Or Mistress? I don’t know what the Naboo prefer.”

“Not mistress,” Tano said. 

“Yeah, that’s for you lot, isn’t it?” 

“Padme is fine,” Padme said. “And don’t tease Ahsoka, Rex, she’s been on a hair trigger lately.”

“I thought you said we weren’t friends,” Rex said sharply. “I don’t want to be friends. It’s Lady Padme, alright? Or do you want Amidala -”

“Fine, Rex, whatever you want!”

Tano looked pained. “Don’t start giving him whatever he wants.”

“And he’s not going to respect me if you start micromanaging, Ahsoka -”

“He’s never going to respect you at all, he is obviously trying to trick you -”

“Can I kick the bitch out of your ship, my lady?” Rex asked, delighted.

“No calling her a bitch, Rex!”

In a stunning display of precognition, Luke finally broke his peace and began wailing. 

Yeah, kid, they all knew this was going to be a disaster. No need to point it out.

Chapter Text

Bly was touching his breast pocket again when he received the call. 

Aayla’s lekku twitched as they picked up on the almost silent vibrations of the call, but she didn’t turn around. Bly received roughly five million calls a day, almost none of which he technically cared about, and Aayla trusted him to let her know anything important. Instead, she continued pointing out the fauna and flora of the jungle around them to Quinlan, who was doing his best to make appropriately impressed noises. He didn’t actually care that much, but Aayla had a tropical bird obsession and they liked to let her enthuse.

Technically, they really shouldn’t be indulging Aayla’s dreams of unethical pet tropical bird ownership. Technically, they were marching. The jungle was thick and heavy enough that they couldn’t approach the drop point by ship, and in order to reach the drop point they were obligated to land a handful of kilometers away and march into the jungle by foot. Once they reached the drop point they would clear away the foliage and create a landing space for the drop of explosives, but in the meantime they were hoofing it old fashioned style. Quinlan obviously thought he was above walking with his little teenage legs, and he was kicking mossy rocks about it. Bly thought it was pretty nice, actually! It was like they were on a nice and normal little walk in a densely forested and extremely dangerous jungle planet! Aayla, of course, was over five moons vis a vis the tropical bird situation. Bly was also just mostly happy that Aayla was happy. 

Bly stepped backwards a little, letting the sounds of Aayla exhaustively reciting the morphological differences between different species of the nut-cracker warblers fade away. They rested peacefully in the branches, chittering to each other oblivious to their one person fan club. He slapped his vambrace, letting the small holoimage of Cody pop up. He was fully kitted out, and standing straight as a board.

“Marshal Commander Bly receiving. How’s the situation with Grievous, Cody?”

But Cody just ignored him. “It’s time. Orders are in.”

It felt like Bly was standing on a sheet of ice on Hoth, and it had just cracked through to dump him in the freezing water. Harsh, biting numbness swept over him. His brain turned to static. 

“Oh!” Bly said, very intelligently . “Okay! Hold on!”

He turned on his heel and walked far away. Then a little bit further. Finally, after he was out of sharp Jedi earshot, he took Cody off hold. “Received. What are the new orders?”

Dully and evenly, as if he was telling Bly about the new deployment location, Cody said, “Execute Order 66.”

The static quieted, and Bly’s body immediately flushed with so much adrenaline the world around him became razor sharp. 

Alright. So they were going. Straight for that one. Not Order 45 or Order 20, you know, anything that wasn’t a worst-case scenario. They were just…jumping straight to the genocide order. Just. Straight there. But that was fine! Good, even! Bly had prepared for Order 66 the most! He had been operating under the basic assumption that his life tended to follow the worst case scenario. And was he wrong ?

“Understood. I will disseminate the Order to my Corps.” Bly kept his voice as even as Cody’s, bluffing desperately. “I will send in confirmation of success once we have achieved mission completion. All hail the Emperor.”

Cody stared at Bly. Bly stared at Cody. Cody’s stare wasn’t particularly impressed. Bly’s stare may have had a slight tinge of ‘who, me?’. 

Cody’s stare said, so clearly and pointedly that he may as well have screamed it: I know. You know I know. I know you know I know. We will continue fucking around the matter, because neither of us are stupid enough to say certain things out loud, but everybody involved in this call is wildly aware . 

With the effortless ease of a little brother, Bly’s own stare conveyed: so, like, are you gonna tattle, or…?

It wasn’t a question that needed to be asked. Batchmates didn’t tattle. Not even Cody. Well, Fox would tattle, but Fox was more the guy that you tattled to . And then he arranged an accident. He always went easy on his batchmates, though! That was why Bly and Wolffe were still alive! Wolffe didn’t seem to appreciate this as much as Bly did. Wolffe didn’t seem to fully clock that Fox had oospie’d a lot of brothers for way less than the shit Wolffe and Bly regularly got up to. So maybe not even Fox tattled?

It was a little weird. Bly knew what he was about to do (obviously). Cody knew what he was about to do (equally obviously). They weren’t saying it. But they both knew: that this was the last time they would ever look at each other as friends. After this, they would be on different sides. So far as Cody-and-Bly were ever a Cody-and-Bly, that road ended here.

“Don’t embarrass us,” Cody said. 

Typical Cody. ‘Alright, be a traitor if you gotta , but just don’t be shitty at it’. He was such a supportive big brother. 

“Thanks for the head start,” Bly said. “All Hail the Emperor!”

“What head start?” Cody said, before signing off.

Oops. Better get going, then.

The holoimage faded, and Bly allowed himself just a second to look up at Aayla and Quinlan. Forget about Order 66 and traitors and brothers who would kill you as soon as look at you the next time you met. Just look at them. At that second, it was as if Bly had never seen them before. 

Quinlan had grown tall. He had been just a scrawny twelve year old when they met, but Bly saw a young man now. His build had filled out, biceps and a six pack clearly defined underneath his tight compression shirt. His long locs, meticulously maintained and frizzing in the jungle humidity, were tied with a strip of leather liberated from Aayla’s lekku wraps. His own hair ties were always snapping or disappearing. Aayla always peeled off her own wrap and handed it to him without a thought. Under her meticulous care and Bly’s indefatigable protection, Quinlan stood tall.

And, in that very second, Aayla was as beautiful as the very first time he had laid eyes on her. He saw every centimeter of her form anew, without the lazy vagueness of familiarity: the rich sapphire of her skin, the curve of her thighs and breasts, the tight cords of her muscles and swinging lekku. The gentle sense of power she carried with her. As beautiful as the first time he ever saw her, when the same thoughts stampeded throughout his brain in an endless track. 

She’s so beautiful. What a shame . 

Or maybe - impossibly, incredibly - she was a thousand times more beautiful, because Bly wasn’t thinking that at all.

Bly put in a call to Galle, trying to focus over the sound of birds screeching around them. A particularly loud caterwaul punctuated Galle’s appearance. 

He saluted smartly. Ugh, still smarter than Bly’s. “Lieutenant Galle receiving. What’s the situation?”

“The Commander’s stepped in something he shouldn’t,” Bly said cheerfully. Time to use the ‘Jungle planet, non-combat’ scenario. You did not want to know how many scenarios Bly had. War was boring, okay? “I’m pretty sure it’s poison. The General and I are extracting him immediately. Hold position and wait for my comm before you continue marching.”

“Is the Commander alright?” Galle demanded instantly. “Opal’s still on the ship, but Walker can -”

“It’s not life threatening, but we need him extracted right now.” Quinlan’s life was actually under a great deal of threat right now, but Galle didn’t really need to know about that. “We’ll take him back on the speeder. Hold tight and don’t break formation no matter what. Understood?”

Galle saluted again. “Understood, sir! Tell the Commander that I’ll give him some of my dried Hillu fruit as a present for getting better. See if you can finally get him to admit he loves the stuff.”

“Trust me,” Bly said, “the Commander is going to be just fine.”

He ended the call. He took five seconds to touch his breast pocket, secretly cut into the rubber of his body glove, and breathe - in and out, in and out, in and out. 

He should probably be ashamed of what he was about to do. Despite what the rest of the GAR said, Bly did have some shame. He’d been a favorite victim of the god of shame enough in the beginning. Thinking about this, letting his most desperate desire take root in his heart, used to make him feel so nauseous that he would almost vomit. But after a while he began to feel sick every time he considered not doing it, and he had begun to feel the horrible burn of shame over even considering doing it, and his resolve had only strengthened over the long years. 

Today, strangely enough, he felt proud. Panicked, terrified, focused, wild. But proud. He was his own man, his own person, and this would prove it. He’d protect her for once. He’d protect her ad . Everything would be okay, and it would be because Bly fought for it. Bly’s happy ending was here, and all he had to do was create it. 

Okay. Time to freak out.

Bly clapped his hands loudly, sending a flock of birds scattering. Aayla and Quinlan turned back to look at him, in that eerie Jedi synocrity they had developed over the years. Aayla smiled reflexively at him, while Quinlan silently pleaded for rescue. Good news, Quinlan! 

“Change of plans!” Bly said loudly, over the sound of the agitated birds. They had been so quiet and relaxed only minutes ago. “Mission abort!”

Both Jedi sharpened, and Aayla stepped forward. “What’s wrong? I heard Commander Cody, did he say something to you?”

“Sure did,” Bly said, keeping a grin on his face despite the helmet. The helmet was actually a little necessary. He knew the grin was somewhat manic. “You know, he - uh, released us from all of this, the 212th are going to come deal with it instead. Lucky! So I figured we should, uh - take that family vacation we’ve all been talking about! Right now! As soon as possible! So let’s go!”

Both Jedi stared at him. Bly did little jazz hands.

“Uh,” Quinlan said, “is this… really the time?”

He had no idea. “It is actually, surprisingly, the best time. Of all time, maybe. So let’s get going. Right now.”