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ihathbenobiwankenobied · 10 months

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Hello there! I am very excited to be posting my fanfc for the Codywan Reverse Bang this year! @madbunnyarts created an amazing piece of art (which will be posted and linked shortly) and I was more than thrilled to create a tatooine-husbands fic inspired by it. The title below links to ao3, but the fic can also be read on here if you prefer. (fair warning, its 20K all in one post).

A Remedy Painted Blue - codywan reverse bang, team 3, @codywanreversebang

Summary:

After ten years trying to keep his head down on Tatooine, Cody finds Obi-Wan lost in a life he never planned on living. It's not what they dreamt about during the war, but perhaps together they can make it work.

Except Cody has a secret he didn't know he was keeping. And it might just tear them apart.

(fic below the cut)

CHAPTER 1:

Obi-Wan learned the beauty of routine in the years after the Clone Wars–as the war was called now–came to an end.

There was something about the ceaseless monotony, the thrum of passing days, and the daily return to the same, mundane tasks. Routine was enough to structure his passing days into something more bearable.

He had cut the Force off from its root several weeks after he had settled on Tatooine–but it had to be replaced with something. Obi-Wan, instead, committed himself to a life of completing basic tasks just to keep himself alive. It was simple, he didn’t have to think much, he could just exist.

The moments of his days that he left unplanned were often spent in contemplative silence. He was waiting for something– that’s what it felt like–especially when he found himself gazing over the rippling waves of the sand.

“Master…” He called out desperately after his ninth year on Tatooine. “Master, please.” He usually paused, hoping that Qui-Gon’s voice would sound from somewhere far in the distance. He found himself in moments of hope and despair all the like, waiting for the voice of a ghost to give him some semblance of guidance.

Qui-Gon never responded, but someday, Obi-Wan hoped he would.

Obi-Wan– Ben– he reminded himself, liked his new home. It wasn’t like his rooms in the Jedi Temple, and it wasn’t like his quarters on the Negotiator but it was quiet. For years, there had been constant chatter and noise surrounding him; endless Council meetings, the sounds of war, the sounds of others snoring loudly through the thin walls.

He liked this new life, a mostly silent one. At least, that’s what he had set out to convince himself. But sometimes, he craved the noise again, wanting to hear something other than the echo of his own voice in his mind.

Obi-Wan found himself in Anchorhead looking for noise in his tenth year on Tatooine.

It was the anniversary of Anakin's fall.

It was the anniversary of the fall of the Republic.

It was the anniversary of death, really.

It was a little joke to himself, the death of all the things that had shaped him. The death of the Jedi Order, his padawan, the life he once knew, the love he had held for the man who had ordered him dead. It was a bitter, unfunny joke, but one that ten years of time easily justified.

Anchorhead was both lively and drab today; the vendors, selling their usual poorly maintained fruits and goods they’d purchased from the Jawas. Obi-Wan headed for the small general store where he knew he could find packages of extra rations and maybe a small candy to save for the evening. He kept his head low, ducked, under the tattered hood of his cloak.

“Ben. Twice in a year? What a surprise.” The twi’lek shop owner–Shorelt, Obi-Wan thought his name was–smiled sleazily, his hazy eyes locking with Obi-Wan’s. Surely, he was already drunk this early in the day.

“Just here for some rations, mealpacks. Do you have three boxes of them in?” Obi-Wan asked gruffly, realizing suddenly that he hadn’t heard his own voice in some time. He sounded older, but it could have been the coarseness of his dry throat.

“I have one box, but… perhaps I could have three,” The twi’lek answered, clicking his tongue against the roof of his mouth. “For a price. ”

This time, Obi-Wan came prepared, the extra credits already waiting in his pocket. He pulled them out, sliding them over the counter with his eyebrows raised. “Will this do?”

A greedy smile crossed the shop owner's face, and he inspected each credit like Obi-Wan would attempt, after many years now, to cheat him. “Fine,” he said after another moment, and hiked two boxes onto the counter. Obi-Wan narrowed his eyes, already knowing what the twi’lek was trying to pull.

“I asked for three,” he said politely, but the grumble in his tone did little to help.

“And I changed my mind. Will that be all?”

In another time, long ago, Obi-Wan would have pinned his head to the counter and demanded the third box, but his energy had long since diminished, and whatever will he had to fight no longer existed.

“Just that there.” He pointed to one of the small bags of pink hard candy that hung on the wall.

“Have it on the house.” The shop owner hissed, a smug smile still painted on his face.

Obi-Wan nodded, gathered his things, and left with a swift walk through the open face of the store. He had planned to spend more of his day in Anchorhead, finding something to bring to Luke, but a sudden queasiness hit him when he stepped into the midday sunshine.

But it wasn’t just his stomach turning, was it?

No. it was something more. Something tickling at the back of his mind, curling around his insides and strangling him. His heart rate became increasingly erratic with each passing moment.

I need to leave. Something isn’t right.

He set a quick pace, weaving through the townspeople with ease.

He kept his head down, keeping hold of the cloak covering his head with a tight grip, but it would do little to mask his panicked expression from onlookers. He tried to school his features.

He wound through the crowds, inching closer and closer to where his eopie was tied in the common stable.

It felt like someone was behind him– watching him like he was prey.

In an attempt to divert them, he noted an alleyway sectioned off between two taller buildings; it would almost be a short-cut. Glancing around to his sides, trying to see if there was anyone suspicious lurking in the shadows of his vision, he made a harsh turn to the right, walking with only increased speed to the thin alleyway.

His own fear rushed in his ears–it tasted like blood.

How long had it been since he had truly felt the overwhelming flood that came with natural fear? Fear uninhibited by the Force?

He gulped in a breath of air as he only felt the presence behind him come closer, tailing him now.

He did not have to see the person to know they were there.

It was then–only when he was contemplating where to go, what he could possibly do next–that he felt a tug at his hood. He was yanked backward, colliding against someone’s chest, the boxes of his meal packs flying out of his arms. A hand clasped over his mouth in some attempt to muffle any sound he chose to make.

Not that he would choose to scream now, when he was meant to remain invisible.

Hands fumbled over his shoulders and sides, pushing him toward the sand-encrusted wall of the alley, slamming him into it with prejudice, stealing whatever breath was left in his lungs.

Obi-Wan kept his eyes closed for a moment, fearing if he opened them–if he moved–the contents of his stomach would crawl up his throat and land on his attacker’s boots.

“Look at me. Now. ”

That voice–it was deep and rumbling, made hoarser from years of overuse–and yet, it seemed strangely familiar. Like Obi-Wan had once heard it in a dream.

Following the instructions he was given, he opened his eyes to a squint.

In front of him, there was a masked figure, dressed in a cloak much like his own, but it closed in the front. The mask covered the being’s eyes, nose and mouth, leaving little to use as a form of identification. The being was elusive–dressed so similarly to many of the villagers he had seen that day–Obi-Wan knew he wouldn’t have noticed the attacker before.

“I–” Obi-Wan tried to stop his natural inclination to be curious about the man. He just wanted to get out of here. Just wanted to be left alone. Had he been discovered? Could he still talk his way out of this? He would beg if he had to. Pride mattered not. “What do you want? I’m just trying to get some meal–”

“No–don’t say anything,” the man, the voice was definitely male at least, grumbled threateningly, interrupting him.

It was then Obi-Wan felt something cold against his throat, pressing against the skin just below his neck. His breaths came in harshly as he realized what it was.

A knife.

A knife pinned to his neck. Luckily for Obi-Wan, it only just barely grazed over his skin, the blade gleaming as a small sliver of sun poured into the alleyway.

Obi-Wan held his breath as the man’s gloved hand fumbled inside his own cloak.

It’s a blaster. He’s going to stun me and turn me into the empire.

He didn’t release his breath, waiting for the shot against his gut, but instead,the man pulled out a small datapad. He held it up, in front of Obi-Wan’s face– there was his picture –and looked between him and the datapad repeatedly, as though he were scrutinizing something.

Obi-Wan did not bother to spare a curious glance and let out a shuddering breath.

“It–” The man dropped the datapad in the dirt with a suddenness that made Obi-Wan flinch where he stood. The sharp blade cut into his neck just a touch, pressing just into his soft skin.

Obi-Wan hissed and curled his hands into fists by his side. One wrong move and he was dead.

“It– I’m sorry I–” The man suddenly dropped the knife the way he had the datapad. He let Obi-Wan go, fumbling with something in his pocket again, only to produce a square of cloth and holding it out to Obi-Wan.

A cloth Obi-Wan took with a shaking, hesitant hand.

“I– it’s you, ” the man said, staring at Obi-Wan.

Obi-Wan kept his expression as neutral as he could manage as his worst case scenario came to fruition before his eyes.

There were many reason’s someone would know who he was. Too many reasons that would lead to own death, or to some form of slavery, or torture, or trial.

“It’s not.” Obi-Wan murmured. “I’m not who you think I am–I’m just a tradesman, nothing more.” Obi-Wan pointed to the common stable that was just across the way from the end of the alleyway. “My eopie is just over there–I take her to work–”

“No. No– you’re not. You weren’t that.” The man shook his head, taking a step back.

Obi-Wan didn’t like the accusation, nevermind that it was true.

“Who do you think I am?” he settled on the question, allowing himself to take a long breath as the man in front of him eyed him.

“You’re–” The voice paused, and the man shuddered underneath his flowing robe. “You’re a Jedi. You were a General. ”

“I’m–No. You have the wrong person.” The longer he persisted, the more he delayed, the longer he had to escape.

The man in front of him didn’t respond, just stood rigidly, arms pinned against his side. Then, he slowly moved to pull at the button on the front of his cloak.

Obi-Wan held his breath.

Beneath the cloak was a set of white armor–or what one should have been white, had there not been years of use and age painted upon it.

Clone armor.

Obi-Wan couldn’t forget it if he tried.

“You’re–” Obi-Wan hesitated. “You’re a clone. ”

The man reached for his mask, hands linking over the top and bottom of it.

The man revealed was a clone, an aged and graying clone, but a clone nonetheless.

But he wasn’t any clone.

Across his face, stretching from his brow around his eye, was an identifying scar, one that Obi-Wan had so many times traced with the tips of his fingers.

A crushing weight settled on Obi-Wan’s chest.

No, it couldn’t be him.

It couldn’t be Cody–not the Commander who had tried to kill him on Utapu ten years before?

There had been a time when Cody had been his second-in-command and one of the only people he had learned to trust. All of that had been lost in seconds when he had been thrown from Boga, falling into the water below. His trust–along with years of life spent hand-in-hand–drowned in that water.

There was a time when he would have sacrificed anything–even himself–for Cody. Obi-Wan realized now, he might die at Cody’s hand instead. The Commander had returned to finish the job, to end things for good.

Obi-Wan wanted to believe his eyes had deceived him, but this time it was his mind playing the tricks instead.

“Sir– Obi-Wan. ” The man’s –Cody’s– eyes were wide and watery. Obi-Wan couldn’t help but notice the fine gray hairs collecting by his ears and the little lines that had formed around his lips and eyes. Signs of aging much like Obi-Wan’s own, telling the story of how much time had passed.

Ten years.

“Cody?”

The man nodded once, then swallowed.

Then nodded again.

It had to be impossible–had to be a lie. Obi-Wan could still remember his first nights on Tatooine, unable to sleep as he considered all he had lost. He imagined Cody had gone on to serve the Imperials, only to die in the line of duty.

Obi-Wan had mourned him.

He had mourned them.

After ten years, Obi-Wan had settled himself with the idea of death–the idea that the people he cared about most were long gone.

He had grieved for so long.

“I didn’t think I would find you.”

Cody’s lips were dry, and his skin was somewhat red. Obi-Wan could only imagine he had been scouring the planet for some time, especially given the layers of dust and grime that covered his worn armor.

“I’d hoped no one would,” Obi-Wan replied without thinking, and watched Cody’s face crumble. He hadn’t meant it as a reprimand, but that was inevitably how it sounded; it seemed personal, upon reflection. “I’m in hiding. You know the Jedi are not welcome in society these days,” Obi-Wan clarified, but it seemed to be too late to fix the broken frown Cody wore.

“I–I’m sorry.” Murmured Cody, voice cracking.

Obi-Wan wanted to reassure him, like he had once done without thought many years before, but it wasn’t the time or place, not here in the center of Anchorhead where anyone could see them, where a clone might be easily recognized.

Obi-Wan reached out for Cody’s arm instead, just the tips of his fingers grazing the dirtied plastoid of his armor.

They locked eyes, and Obi-Wan felt a mix of melancholy and relief flood his veins.

Every moment they had shared together replayed behind his eyes like a holofilm, forcing him to recall all the times they had shared a bed, kissed after dinner, intertwined their hands underneath a table. How many hours had they spent speaking in hushed tones in one of their rooms?

It was crushing, the weight of millions of replayed moments spinning through his head. While he had shoved each of them into the very back of his mind, they were still there burning brightly. In many ways, he thought he had forgotten them.

Obi-Wan pointed to his mask.

“Don’t be. Just–we can’t stay here. Put that back on, and come with me.”

He hadn’t much of a plan other than to leave the city. There were so many words he needed to say, so many built up feelings caught deep in his chest.

He needed time.

Obi-Wan felt eyes on his back, watching him and Cody weave through the dusty, winding roads of Anchorhead.

He felt eyes on his back often these days, tracing his every move and waiting for him to prove himself a Jedi.

This time, he chose to ignore the nagging feeling of those eyes.

He had ridden his eopie into town, but it wouldn’t support the weight of both him and Cody. It would be an hour’s long walk out of the city and back to his home–his cave, he reminded himself. At least, he was sure Cody would think it was just a cave.

They didn’t speak, not for a long time, not even when they were out of the city and walking amongst the waves of sand and dust that filled the desert.

There were always words on the tip of Obi-Wan’s tongue, but he couldn’t find the courage to say them. Questions lingered in the air between them. Cody equally as unwilling to say anything other than an occasional rudimentary observation.

Cody’s face–when Obi-Wan eventually spared a glance at him once they had reached the vast expanse of the desert–was covered in beads of sweat, his cheeks covered in a slight hue of pink from the exploits of the twin Tatooine suns that hovered high in the sky above them.

It was the same face he had known so well.

The scar running down the side of his face hadn’t changed, nor had the creases by his lips and in his forehead. It reminded Obi-Wan of the times he had traced Cody’s features with the tips of his fingers while they sat in his quarters, holofilm playing in the background.

Obi-Wan’s stomach burned with the thought. Between his moments of anguish, Obi-Wan had carefully packed away these little memories, burying them behind everything in his brain. He’d wanted to forget, to wipe himself clean, to become a fresh slate.

He wasn’t so sure now.

They were a klick away from Obi-Wan’s dwelling when Cody cleared his throat, breaking the hazy, unsure silence.

“Do you have water?” he asked, voice gruff the way Obi-Wan remembered his being in his first days on Tatooine. Wordlessly, Obi-Wan detached his canteen from where it was hooked to his eopie’s saddle.

Cody drank tentatively, and Obi-Wan would have told him that he had a fairly large reservoir stored away in his home, but the words evaded him like they had for an hour already.

What was there to say anyway?

Obi-Wan took a moment to study Cody’s face. There were new lines–aging lines–that crinkled around his eyes and lips. His skin was a shade or two darker; his hairline was just a touch shorter than it used to be. Like Obi-Wan himself, his hair had begun to gray around the edges. Another reminder of the time that had passed, all the moments they had spent away from each other.

“You’re staring,” Cody said, reattaching the canteen himself after another small swig. Obi-Wan hoped the heat rising to his cheeks was less apparent than it felt.

“I apologize,” Obi-Wan murmured, then pointed toward the very small rock formation in the distance where his cave was situated. “Come, we’re headed right over there.”

It was not long before they had arrived at the entrance to his dwelling.

Obi-Wan tried not to watch Cody’s confused, questioning expression as he looked up and down at the structure, then eyed the space surrounding it. “It’s really–secluded,” Cody settled on.

“It is,” Obi-Wan said. Something inside of him– the person he used to be, the General– hoped Cody wouldn’t be too critical of the conditions Obi-Wan had slowly succumbed to. For years Obi-Wan had been alone with his home and his meager supply of clothes and whatever he could scrounge. He had acquired only the basics–maybe as a punishment inflicted upon himself. Obi-Wan had become accustomed to living amongst the dust and grime; he barely took the time to take care of himself, let alone notice the dirt building up on his skin, clothes, and floor.

Who did he have to impress? Not the Lars’s, certainly. Not himself.

Embarrassment flooded his veins as the realization of how far he’d fallen dawned on him. This wasn’t the person he wanted Cody to see–not this wretched shell of the man he’d been years before–but it was too late to do anything about it now. Cody was here, standing in the opening that served as his entryway, with barely an explanation.

This was just an added punishment, Obi-Wan considered.

He led Cody inside with the flick of his wrist and immediately set both boxes of rations down onto his small, one-person table. With a quick glance around the state of his rooms, Obi-Wan thought everything looked as satisfactory as it could; the pots were put away–all two of them–and most of his possessions were stowed in the chests he kept out of view. In fact, it would seem to an outside observer that no one lived at all, save for the single bed roll and rustled blankets tucked away in another cavern.

Obi-Wan cleared his throat, then offered, “I have a second bed roll and a blanket. You can use those to sleep. There are some clothes you can borrow if you wish to get out of your kit. It’s rather warm here.” Cordial at best, that’s how the words felt. Polite.

He wished he could say more, but something stopped him. He felt conflicted, somewhere between relieved and unsettled. While he should have felt elated, even pleasantly surprised by Cody’s survival, he had kept the thoughts of his past life an arm’s distance for so long that he couldn’t let himself enjoy it.

“Thank you,” Cody said, offering a warm smile. There was a hint of sorrow hidden in his eyes, a sorrow that Obi-Wan remembered seeing so many times throughout the war. When any brother passed, that look followed Cody everywhere for days. He had always been driven by his empathy for others– at the time, Obi-Wan had admired that.

Often, Cody would comm Obi-Wan late into the night, asking for him to come to his quarters. Obi-Wan would go, no hesitation, and hold him close until Cody’s tears had dried and his trembling had stopped. It was a common dance between them, exchanging small comforts and breathing life back into each other where it had been lost.

Now, he wished Cody wouldn’t look at him that way, sorrow brimming from his eyes. It felt like pity.

“Why are you here, Cody?” he asked after a lengthy pause. Neither of them had moved since coming in, Obi-Wan pinned next to his kitchen counter and Cody lingering in the wide opening of the cave.

“I came to find you. I–I needed to know you were alive. There were rumors you were. I had to know.”

A cascade of anger washed over Obi-Wan. Rumors.

He had been given a single objective to punctuate the remainder of his life. He was meant to be a soulless protector of a child who held so much potential for redemption, for hope. Obi-Wan was an embodiment of the old way of the Jedi, a broken, spineless example of the fractures made in the Order. But Luke? He was going to change things, that’s what the Force had told Obi-Wan before he had cut himself off from its roots.

Rumors threatened his protection of the one hope the galaxy had left.

“Rumors? From whom?” he asked pensively, instinctively straightening under Cody’s gaze.

“From the vode,” answered Cody. “There are many of us still alive who have left the Empire. Rex made an effort to retrieve as many brothers as he can. He found me and took me to his base.”

The words took a moment to sink in, but when they did, Obi-Wan was left with a hint of devastation. All throughout his time on Tatooine he had considered the fate of the clones. Guilt stirred inside of him, knowing he had settled, thinking they had sworn loyalty to the Empire. Clearly, many had escaped.

“Why did you leave the Empire? You were loyal to them; how can I trust you now?” The words stung on his tongue as he spoke them, the silver lining of Cody’s presence barely enough to convince Obi-Wan it wasn’t just some sick trick the Imperials had cooked up in an attempt to murder their final Jedi.

Cody swallowed, eyes narrowed toward the ground. “You know about the chips?”

The chips?

Obi-Wan spun the word around his mind, but came up short.

“What chips?” He asked, voice still gruff.

“I–I figured you knew. I assumed the Jedi knew.” The word Jedi hung in the air, hovering over Obi-Wan like the looming Tatooine suns. “There were chips in our minds. They were said to control our temper, but they weren’t. The chips were used to control us, to make us slaves of the Empire. We couldn’t resist their orders.”

Cody hissed the words out, scuffing his toe in the dirt, not looking up for a long second.

Obi-Wan let each and every word sink in, considering the possibility that it could be true. His heart stuttered behind his ribcage, and his stomach twisted unnaturally.

If it was true, Cody’s actions–his sudden treason and abandonment–seemed more plausible. If it was true, it was still a betrayal, but it wasn’t truly Cody.

It was too difficult to digest, too much information to process without a moment alone to think about it, to consider what the rushing in his veins meant.

Something that felt like rage, but stung like guilt, simmered in his stomach as Cody continued, “We spent a war circling around each other, and then, in an instant, all of that disappeared. It was stolen from me. I couldn’t bear to be without you, if you were still alive. And I want–I don’t know–” Cody shook his head in defeat.

Obi-Wan said nothing–couldn’t possibly say anything useful–his own eyes tracing the cracks in the floor that mirrored the jagged fractures that coursed through his soul, caverns getting deeper and wider with every new breath.

“I want forgiveness–for everything– so, I’m here. That’s why. I’m not here with the Empire, I’m not here for anything else but you.” There were tears in Cody’s eyes, threatening to spill down his cheeks.

Yet, Obi-Wan’s anger only grew, overwhelming the guilt, and curling over him like a blanket.

Suffocating.

Cody seemed to think that there was room to explore the steaming coals of what was left of their relationship, to recover what had been lost ten years before. Though time had passed, nothing could heal the wound that Cody left when he raised his arms, pointing toward Obi-Wan’s position and ordering his murder. What was Cody thinking coming to Tatooine with hope brimming in his eyes?

Obi-Wan hesitated to think his forgiveness would come so easily.

Nausea spread in Obi-Wan’s stomach threatening to make him retch on his floor.

A long pause filled the space, piercing into Obi-Wan’s consciousness like a sharp-ended spear. He couldn’t stand to say nothing. Couldn’t allow Cody to keep staring at him, hoping, waiting for mercy that Obi-Wan could not find it in himself to give.

Not yet.

He reached for the oldest Jedi excuse in the galaxy.

“I need to meditate. Excuse me,” he said, voice only just over a whisper, and he pushed out past the entrance of the cave.

He ignored the eyes burning a hole in his back and sat heavily on the ledge where he often ate his meals, watching over the long planes of sand that led to the twin suns.

He had not lied about meditating, but it wasn’t like it used to be. There was no Force to guide him into a place of comfort. No, it was simply a time of reflection, and, these days, self-loathing unchecked by the balance of the Force.

He closed his eyes, tried to center himself in his own thoughts and feelings. In just a moment, the rage calmed from its swell, fading into something like frustration and despair.

Cody.

He hadn’t believed he would ever say that name aloud again. If he was fully honest with himself, he’d sworn to never think of that name again or the person it was attached to. To think of Cody meant acknowledging the hurt and the pain, dangerous feelings he had tried to replace with bitterness instead.

Breathing in and out, counting, over and over again until his heart rate settled, Obi-Wan allowed his thoughts to creep into the crevices of his mind he hadn’t visited in years intentionally.

“Sir–Obi-wan.” Cody rolled over in bed, facing Obi-Wan. His bare chest prickled with goosebumps and he smiled languidly. “Come over here.”

Obi-Wan hesitated. “Oh?” he asked with a teasing smile. Cody rolled his eyes.

“If you want me to work for it just say so,” Cody said, and shifted forward, strong arms enclosing around Obi-Wan’s waist and pulling him across the bed.

Obi-Wan laughed as he buried his face in Cody’s neck. He smelled faintly of sweat and the GAR body soap, but mostly of himself–something sweet and musky.

They stayed like that for ten minutes–not that Obi-Wan was counting–but it was longer than they usually had to languish in bed. He soaked in the moment like a sponge, tracing the outline of Cody’s jaw, then chest, then down to the waistband of his underwear.

“I’d stay like this forever, if I could,” Obi-Wan whispered into the skin of Cody’s neck. The words were said without the conditions of sobriety and gravitas, but he meant them. The war was constant, always just a few steps away from them, threatening their every move, but to think of a life beyond it–Obi-Wan could only imagine that with Cody. Sure, the Jedi Order had his loyalty, but Cody did too.

And unlike the Jedi–Cody didn’t come with an instruction manual and laws and rules to learn–no, Cody was a person to explore, nuanced and emotional.

“I would too–but the mess will close before we get breakfast if we don’t get up soon. I know how much you hate eating ration bars more than twice a day.”

The grounding arms curled around Obi-Wan disappeared, and Cody slunk from the bed, shedding his briefs as he headed for the fresher door.

The memory passed over Obi-Wan briefly–just a fleeting moment among thousands.

He swallowed and tried to control the spiraling nostalgic anguish that burned through his stomach.

Cody found Obi-Wan’s home strange.

Unsettling.

Sure–living in a cave was strange in itself–but it wasn’t that. No, Obi-Wan’s home was nearly empty.

In fact, it didn’t seem like anyone lived there at all.

It had been days, and Cody had yet to see Obi-Wan eat a bite of food, even though he always had a few rations out for Cody to make for himself. He hadn’t seen Obi-Wan bathe, or read a book, or even sip tea out of one the mugs Cody had caught a glimpse of when he had slyly looked through a few of the cabinets.

Obi-Wan moved through his home like a ghost–his presence having no effect on the objects around him, but still he lingered everywhere.

For the most part, Cody watched him and followed him around as directed. Obi-Wan operated no different than a soldier, driven by directives and processes. He worked with efficiency, like every movement he made was purposeful.

They barely spoke, save for the few times Cody had ventured to ask a question. Typically, Obi-Wan didn’t have much to say, not after Cody’s plea for forgiveness.

Something told Cody that he’d done something wrong– said something wrong–but he couldn’t quite place a finger on where his mistake had been made.

Perhaps it was wrong for him to have assumed Obi-Wan wanted to see him at all. They had something–not quite labeled at the time–but they had been something more than friends in the last days of the war. Cody still remembered the way Obi-Wan’s skin felt under his fingertips, and the way Obi-Wan’s hair smelled of musky pine after he washed it.

He could barely imagine that Obi-Wan could forget the moments they shared together, wrapped in each other’s arms, legs entangled.

But then again, it had been ten years. Ten years could change things and people more than Cody cared to admit.

It was three days after his arrival when he decided to try a real conversation, breaking through the awkward silence by clearing his throat.

“Obi-Wan.”

The man in question had entered his home covered in a thick layer of dust; his hair had changed from auburn to a dusty blonde with all of the sand. His skin looked dry, and Cody could see the little wrinkles in his forehead when he frowned.

Obi-Wan hung his dusty cloak and pack on the single, crooked hook nailed into the wall. “It’s Ben.”

Cody’s throat felt dry.

Because he wasn’t Ben.

Ben was the name of the soulless being that Obi-Wan had created as a facade.

“ Ben– ” Cody said nonetheless. “I don’t want to stay here unless you find me something to do. I can stay here and clean your house, or keep watch of the boy–or, I can get a job. I cannot continue to take advantage of your kindness.”

Obi-Wan grimaced and pushed past Cody, headed for the small reservoir of water he kept in the kitchen. “You don’t need to work to earn your keep–you’re a guest.”

A guest. The implication stung.

Because Cody hadn’t come with the intention of being just a guest.

“I–I’ve already outstayed my welcome. Please– Ben– let me work, or provide something for you during my stay.”

Obi-Wan filled his tattered canteen with water, then considered the tank with another pronounced frown. He looked up at Cody. “If you insist–then you can take this to be refilled tomorrow. I’ll give you the credits.”

Cody felt a smile creep onto his face. “Thank you,” he said, relieved Obi-Wan had conceded.

Before he had the chance to say another word– before he had a chance to ask Obi-Wan about his day– Obi-Wan had disappeared out of the cave, headed for his usual perch on a portion of the stone that jutted out over the desert.

The walk into Anchohead was long. While Obi-Wan had an old speeder hidden away, he insisted Cody walk. It was far more inconspicuous than riding into town on the same old, beat up machine only Obi-Wan had ever been seen riding. Cody agreed, not wanting to bring any threats back to Obi-Wan.

At the very least it gave him time to think.

To plan, ponder even.

There was an invisible, impenetrable wall between them, standing too tall and wide to break down easily. Cody figured it would be easier, particularly with their years of history, but Obi-Wan had yet to let his guard down even a measly inch.

Cody remembered a time when the wall between them hadn’t existed at all.

“You’re bothered about something,” Obi-Wan said through an amused smile, fingers tickling at the collar of the dapper black suit he wore.

They were crammed into a large ballroom in the Jedi temple, awaiting the first toast of the night. It had been a planned celebration of a string of newly signed treaties and the destruction of another Separatist base. In Codys’ perspective, it was nothing more than a load of pretentious banthashit.

Cody wore his own suit–a green military uniform the GAR had given him when he had earned the rank of Commander. He hadn’t worn it yet, and he felt stiff underneath its creased folds and perfectly tailored buttons.

So yes, something was bothering him.

“How can you tell?” Cody gritted out under his breath, trying to avoid eye contact with any onlookers. The last thing he wanted was to get wrapped up in some lifeless conversation about politics.

Obi-Wan hummed, a little smirk still on his lips, “You don’t like your greens?”

Cody watched Obi-Wan bite his bottom lip, the skin darkening to a shade of pink he couldn’t resist. Obi-Wan’s beard was trimmed down to a short length only a touch longer than stubble, and a lock of auburn hair trailed over his forehead. He was perfect, undeniably beautiful in every way.

Magnetic.

Cody’s heart skipped a beat in his chest.

“Not exceptionally,” He finally answered, voice low and gruff, “My whole back itches.”

Obi-Wan leaned in close, lips close enough to the outer shell of Cody’s ear that it sent shivers racing down his spine.

“Maybe we need to get you out of those, then, yeah?”

Cody hadn’t hesitated a second, eyes locking with Obi-Wan’s.

Obi-Wan’s grasp on his arm scalded Cody as he was led through the crowd.

The recollection was clear, although it had been ten years. They had been in sync then. It was intuition, their movements blending together seamlessly like an impressionist oil painting. The result was something colorful and cohesive, yet it didn’t hail from rules and perfectly placed strokes. They were something unexplainable, virtually an anomaly.

The magic of it–the unthinking ease–was a little spark that had kept them running back to each other time and time again. Now, it was all but a burnt match tossed to the side.

Cody considered this as he struggled with the heavy, large container filled with water where it fit snugly against his back. Obi-Wan had offered him a homemade contraption to carry back the water, but he had failed to describe just how difficult it was to balance while the water sloshed around. He struggled with it for hours, trying to find a way to balance it without his back creaking under its weight.

The walk back to Obi-Wan’s home took twice as long as it had to come to Anchorhead. It took long enough that he returned after Obi-Wan had already arrived back from work, though Cody was surprised he hadn’t seen him in passing on the way back to the homestead.

Cody dumped the large container onto the floor next to its stand in the corner of the kitchen, feeling Obi-Wan’s gaze on his back.

“You’re earlier than I thought you would be,” he said, standing still with his arms tucked into a long blue cloak that was reminiscent of the brown ones he had worn during the war.

Cody just grunted, making quick work of the container to fill his empty canteen; he hadn’t had anything to drink in hours, and his throat was drier than it had ever been.

“Well–I was trying to make myself useful. Objective achieved, I guess,” Cody grumbled, not holding back the sardonic tone he’d usually keep under wraps. It was hard not to, not when the shell of Obi-Wan was scrutinizing him like he was an imposter.

Surprisingly, Obi-Wan raised an amused eyebrow. “Yes. Objective achieved,” Obi-Wan said, coming to assist with lifting the large metal container onto its stand.

“I have thought of something you can do,” Obi-Wan said, standing up and standing awkwardly just a short distance from Cody.

Cody looked up–not quite ready to stand after walking through hot sand for hours. “A job?” he asked, but Obi-Wan shook his head.

“If you’re going to stay here, as my guest, I feel as though this space could feel more…” Obi-Wan’s voice trailed off and he shrugged, fingers rubbing absently at his unruly beard.

“Homey?” Cody supplied, but only because it was true–Obi-Wan’s house wasn’t the most welcoming place to stay. It was as if Obi-Wan had only done the bare minimum to make it liveable. Not a single decoration or personal item of significance lined the walls or shelves.

“I suppose so.” Obi-Wan sighed. “I haven’t had a guest yet–and I don’t think I need much myself, but I suppose while you’re here, you deserve to feel welcome. Perhaps you could fix up those holes?” Obi-Wan said while pointing at a few noticeable holes in the side of the kitchen wall, “Or install some makeshift doors?”

Obi-Wan seemed hesitant suddenly, like he had finally realized that he was only prolonging Cody’s stay by giving him something to do. “But you don’t have to–of course.”

“No! No, I’m happy to help with anything you need fixed. I could even make you a bed frame so you won’t have to sleep on the floor?”

Obi-Wan noticeably winced, like the mention of a creature comfort was too much for him to handle. But, still, the man was kind enough to say, “I– thank you.”

But with that, Obi-Wan was gone again.

The rejection–whether intentional or not–still burned.

Two days later, Cody went to Anchorhead again with a sudden urge to get out of the monotony of the desert for a change.

Those two days had been spent in an uncomfortable quietness. Obi-Wan was much like tooka, mindlessly moving, stalking through his dwelling without so much of a sound. Not to mention, his appearances mostly revolved around meal times and filling up mugs of tea, which he always took away from the kitchen and out of view of Cody.

Cody observed, lips shut tightly together as his eyes tracked Obi-Wan’s ventures through his cave. He hadn’t earned Obi-Wan’s trust, he hadn’t even earned Obi-Wan’s listening ear.

Perhaps it was in an effort to force a conversation, or maybe he just wanted to feel needed, but Cody found himself staring at a bucket of fresh-seeming fish, wondering if Obi-Wan might appreciate a home-cooked meal.

“I’ll make dinner tonight,” Cody announced when Obi-Wan arrived home from his work. Cody held up the small sack of ingredients he’d bartered for with the bag of semi-valuable relics Rex had given him to use instead of credits for Obi-Wan to see.

It didn’t seem like welcome news, not when Obi-Wan grimaced at the words, gesturing toward the box of meal packs placed on the small kitchen counter. “You didn’t need to waste your money, Cody. We have plenty to eat.”

“That’s hardly food, Ben.” He opened the sack, delivering a small quantity of meat and fresh fruits and vegetables onto the table.

Obi-Wan raised a questioning eyebrow when Cody produced a meiloorun. “It was always your favorite,” Cody said, smiling softly when he noticed Obi-Wan’s cheeks had turned just the slightest shade of pink.

Cody missed that shade of pink.

“This really wasn’t necessary,” Obi-Wan said, voice gravelly.

“Not everything needs to be done out of necessity. When’s the last time you truly enjoyed something?” His question was followed by a telling silence. So, was it intentional then? He’d predicted it the moment he stepped into the cave; Obi-Wan was punishing himself.

Cody used the makeshift stove to cook the vegetables first. The welcome aroma of cooking food filled the cave, distracting from its usual musty smell. When he cooked the fish, he seasoned it with the dried herbs he’d purchased, making sure to get everything perfectly to Obi-Wan’s taste; the man had always preferred his meat well-seasoned and seared to the perfect shade of brown.

Hells, he even brought out both of Obi-Wan’s nicest plates for the occasion.

From the other side of the cave, sat gingerly in his creaky, old rocking chair, Obi-Wan watched. His blue eyes followed Cody’s every move, and once, Cody even noticed him smiling just with a single corner of his mouth.

His own hesitant smile painted across his lips, Cody clutched the two plates and stepped out of the kitchen into what Obi-Wan had called the living room. Really, it was just two chairs stuck in between the walls of the cave.

“Here,” he said, extending the plate to Obi-Wan who took it with slightly shaking fingers. “Eat up.”

Cody sat, digging into his own food with a passion that he hadn’t quite expected from himself. It had been a long time since he’d eaten something he had chosen for himself.

It reminded him of the times he had cooked in Obi-Wan’s tiny kitchen in his quarters on the Negotiator. Cody remembered the spicy and sweet flavors of Obi-Wan’s favorite dish that he knew how to make by heart, and the wafting smell of fresh baked biscuits they tried to make once a month.

“Oh,” Obi-Wan murmured a minute later. “This is–did you buy spices?”

“Yes. I know you like your food well-seasoned.”

Cody looked up to find Obi-Wan eating for the first time since his arrival. As relieving as it was, one hearty meal wouldn’t be enough to put meat back on Obi-Wan’s bones.

“Good?” he asked once he had scraped his own plate clean.

“Ah, yes. Better than a mealpack by all accounts,” Obi-Wan said stiffly, standing to collect the plates.

“Do you remember when we used to cook in your quarters on the Negotiator? I don’t know how many times you burned our food, but it was at least once a week.” He followed Obi-Wan to the kitchen, hoping the lightness of his tone coaxed something other than stiff words from Obi-Wan’s mouth.

“I remember,” Obi-Wan said with no further elaboration, his voice distant. His face fell into a frown as he placed the dirtied plates into a neat stack.

“Do you?” Cody challenged him, because since he arrived, Obi-Wan only ever just remembered things. He never had anything to add, no memories to speak of himself.

It felt like he’d forgotten.

Cody hated it; the lifeless answers from the ghastly shell of the Obi-Wan Kenobi he once knew. Obi-Wan wasn’t always hesitant to talk, but he never offered anything of substance, like everything he said was carefully run through a filter so that nothing of significance could possibly be revealed.

It made Cody’s blood boil.

“I do.” Obi-Wan said, not even looking in Cody’s direction.

Of course, there was nothing more to say.

CHAPTER 2

It ultimately became normal to live with someone else–to live with Cody.

Though, it was vastly different from the close quarters they had often shared during the war.

It was a larger space, and undeniably less dangerous. While the Tuskens were initially a threat, Obi-Wan now understood the terms and boundaries that kept them from raiding another’s land, and outside of the looming darkness of the Empire that tainted the galaxy, most other threats were minimal.

Like a dance, they floated around each other in Obi-Wan’s cave, sometimes exchanging a thoughtful observation of the happenings under the Tatooine suns, or commenting on the likelihood of the latest sandstorm the weather vane was predicting. Often, their conversations would drift back to moments shared on long-unknown planets and within the walls of the Negotiator.

Mostly, the memories Cody shared were fond, but they still didn’t sit right in Obi-Wan’s bones. How could he have ever enjoyed those moments knowing what was to come?

But it didn’t matter, because Cody seemed happy to tell the smallest story, lamenting over the times they had started needless skirmishes, and chuckling about the times they’d found themselves under the stunned gaze of one of Cody’s brothers after engaging in an embrace that lasted just a few seconds too long.

Despite Obi-Wan’s initial hesitations, he almost began to grow more fond of reminiscing too. There was a vast library of regrets and joys to explore, to relive again in a time where none of it mattered, but all of it breathed life into his heart at the same time.

He’d come to love the tiny creases that lined Cody’s eyes and spread across his cheeks. He loved the way Cody stood, acting out the times where he had been forced to dodge blaster fire in the middle of an open field. He’d come to love the little rounds of belly-deep laughter they shared late into the evening hours, long past when the suns had set.

“You’ll work with me,” he said one day, when Cody was lamenting about not having work.

Cody had finished every feasible chore there was left to do in the cave, and had done it with an enthusiasm that forced Obi-Wan’s eyebrows high on his face. Cody had created a door, patched up the holes in the walls that let the desert chill in at night –hells, he had even gone so far to make the kitchen functional enough to cook daily meals that weren’t just from a mealpack.

“With you?” Cody asked incredulously over a bowl of steaming soup, his voice almost an octave higher, like he was surprised.

“Yes, meat-harvesting. Calpen will give you a job on my asking. He trusts me,” Obi-Wan said, taking his first spoonful of soup. He hated to admit to himself that Cody’s cooking was far better than anything he would have been able to make for himself.

“What’s caused your sudden change of heart? Just two days ago you were insisting I shouldn’t even go to Anchorhead anymore.”

Cody was right–he had said that–but only because he had seen Owen glancing at him suspiciously the last time he and Cody had entered the town. While Owen wasn’t a tool of the Empire, he would do anything in Luke’s best interest–or what he thought was Luke’s best interest. If it meant ratting out Cody, or even Obi-Wan to the Empire, Owen surely would do it in a heartbeat.

But somewhere beyond his fear, there was compassion mixed with a touch of selfishness.

Because he didn’t want Cody to leave.

Cody had become a glimmer of light slipping through the cracks of a dark room. He burned brightly, a candle that had somehow learned to become the sun. Cody’s warmth buried itself into Obi-Wan’s chest, holding him captive.

No, he didn’t want Cody to leave.

Now that the cave had been fixed, and with no chores left to occupy him, Cody was surely thinking of leaving.

“I want–you need a job. To work for your accommodation,” He said instead, lying through his teeth with a grunt, because he wasn’t ready for Cody to know about the inner workings of his thoughts.

Cody smiled, and it seemed more genuine than it had in many weeks.

Cody seemed to think the job was enjoyable, at least that’s what he said over breakfast, now seven weeks since his arrival.

Not that Obi-Wan had been counting. He certainly hadn’t.

“You have no idea, Ben. It’s cathartic, nothing like the banthashit the Empire made me do.” Cody shook his head and scraped his bowl of porridge with a spoon.

Obi-Wan could hardly share his enthusiasm, as chopping up bits of nearly rotten meat became far less enjoyable after years and years of ten-hour shifts in the blazing afternoon heat, but he smiled and nodded all the same, admiring Cody’s magnetic vivacity.

That morning they rode together into Anchohead, bodies pressed so close together. It was the first time Obi-Wan noticed it–the closeness, the way Cody’s breath passed over the skin of his neck in little puffs, the way Cody’s arms wrapped perfectly around his waist, fingers jutting into his stomach.

He kept his eyes forward and his thoughts buried so deep that he hoped he wouldn’t find them again.

The day dragged on longer than most, the temperature having been several degrees higher than usual, and the sun burning down so hotly on the back of his neck. He could practically imagine himself melting into a puddle on the sand.

Obi-Wan felt sweat dripping from his forehead and down the sides of his cheeks. It pooled at the bottom of his back beneath his shirt, and his pants stuck to his legs noticeably every time he moved.

A glance over at Cody, who stood several men over from him, showed he wasn’t nearly as bothered by the heat. Only a light sheen of sweat formed on Cody’s forehead, and his eyes didn’t seem to stray from his work like Obi-Wan’s had been for hours.

Obi-Wan’s throat was dry, as was his skin, and he hoped Calpen would call for a break soon; the dryness in his throat, the knowledge that his sweat was wasting water he could not afford to lose was possibly the only thing on his mind. A moment in the shade to rest. A drink.

Another hour passed, and the dryness– the dehydration– he assumed, only grew stronger. He was sure now that Calpen was leading them on–making them suffer just for the sake of it. Typically, they were allowed at least a couple of minutes to drink from their canteens.

He ignored the second, third, and fourth concerned glance from Cody, now regretting that he had ever offered to get him the job in the first place. There was nothing that bothered Obi-Wan more than Cody’s wide, sorrow-filled eyes watching over him like he was meant to be pitied.

Focus, he demanded of himself, trying to make his wandering blurry eyes fixate on the piece of meat he was slicing. It was dangerous to not focus when a sharp object was in hand.

“Ben!” he heard, not a second later.

It only felt like a second later, at least.

Then there was a hand on his collar–not Calpen’s hand, but one of his minions who stalked around, watching for any drop in productivity.

Kriff!

If he didn’t feel so feverish, muscles unnaturally weak, he would have fought back and torn the hand away from where it latched onto his clothes. But no– the heat felt like an impenetrable force, squeezing the life from him with barely a hint of effort.

The hand tugged him backward, dragging him away from the table.

He stumbled awkwardly, his feet feeling heavy against the ground. “What makes you think you can stop working in the middle of the day? That’s why we pay you.”

A protest didn’t make it past Obi-Wan’s lips before he was thrown to the ground.

He came down hard, head plummeting against the wooden platform that kept their tables from sinking into the sand. His arm smashed into the leg of the table with a distinct crack that was immediately followed by a shooting pain racing down his forearm, all the way to his wrist.

For a moment, everything around him went black, including the noise of sudden, horrified voices. He basked in the emptiness, letting it close around him.

It was far better than the searing pain he’d been struck with seconds earlier.

But then–

“Kriff you! What–”

Kriff.

It was Cody’s voice–loud and shrill in his pounding skull–and Obi-Wan let his eyes shoot open. He was met with the blinding brightness of the sun, and then an immediate recollection of the agonizing pain that encompassed his entire right arm.

He barely had time to process the torment, when suddenly Cody’s head was hovering inches above his own. Even with the bleariness of his vision, Obi-Wan could still make out the concerned wrinkles on Cody’s forehead, and the way his lips moved like he might be trying to say something.

Oh–

“Ben!”

Right.

Cody was speaking to him.

Without thinking–he wasn’t sure he was capable of that anyway, judging by the ceaseless throbbing in the back of his skull–Obi-Wan opened his mouth to say something.

“I-I’m fine,” he managed, voice hoarse. It was only another reminder he had yet to have any water.

The reminder that he could not afford the loss of any more fluids did nothing to quell the wave of nausea.

“No, this isn’t fine. Your arm– Kriff.”

Cody’s worry was replaced with panic, his facial features pinched but eyes wide with fear.

“We’re leaving,” he heard Cody bark, suddenly gone from his field of vision, “–I don’t care about the kriffing pay– we’re leaving. ”

For once, Obi-Wan agreed with leaving without pay. To hell with his pay for the day! Calpen would allow him back regardless, always desperate for willing workers. He wasn't sure he would make it another minute in this condition, much less another three hours of work.

Pain spiked again, now crawling up from his wrist to his elbow, but it was nothing compared to the pulsing headache that gripped him behind his eyes. His skin still leaked sweat. His mouth felt as dry as the sand underneath him.

He wasn’t sure how, but Cody managed to get him to his feet. Obi-Wan allowed an arm slung across his lower back, tucking his arm tight to his chest to prevent it from moving. Obi-Wan ignored the way Cody manhandled his other arm across his shoulders because it allowed them to move without jostling the fresh break. They only stopped moving when they reached the port for their transport back to Anchorhead. There, Cody helped Obi-Wan drop down onto an empty bench.

Obi-Wan sat heavily, the radiating pain failing to decrease in its significance.

“Here, please drink,” Cody said suddenly, voice distant for someone speaking practically in Obi-Wan’s ear.

Obi-Wan blinked open his eyes, not realizing he had closed them to begin with. Cody was crouched in front of him, his worried eyes almost in line with Obi-Wan’s. He held out his open canteen close to Obi-Wan’s lips.

In any other circumstance, Obi-Wan would have protested, but he was sure heat exhaustion was going to deem him unable to function if he didn’t get a few sips of water into his body.

“Is there–are there doctors in Anchorhead? Clinics?” Cody asked, the transport now visible in the distance.

Obi-Wan knew there were clinics, but they weren’t ones he was willing to visit openly. Several of them were run by the Empire, and even the ones that weren’t were subsidized by Imperial funds. In any case, he wasn’t willing to risk it.

“No,” he answered simply, wincing as Cody helped him stand. Even sitting still, the radiating pain of his–presumably–broken arm was undeniable and distracting.

The time it took to board the transport back to Anchorhead, then to sit precariously on his eopie– felt quicker than it had in a long time, and Obi-Wan was unsure if it was because of the head injury, or pulsating pain that settled deep in forearm that distracted him from thinking too much about the time.

Cody was eerily silent, save for his few mutters of, I’m sorry, whenever Obi-Wan winced.

The silence continued until they came to a stop outside his home.

“Stay there for a moment, Ben,” Cody said gently, his fingertips gliding across the sweaty skin of his forehead.

Obi-Wan didn’t know what Cody was doing–his eyes closed from the blinding burning suns–but suddenly, there were hands on his waist.

He jolted–a mistake– and Cody swore.

“Kriff– sorry, General.”

General.

If his head didn’t ache with such intensity he might have corrected Cody. But the address felt vaguely comforting. For a moment, he found himself back in the war, in the care of Cody after he had been released from the medbay. Many times he had limped back to his quarters of the Negotiator with Cody’s arm wrapped around his waist.

General, just rest. Let me take care of you.

He remembered the way Cody would lay with him, curled by his side as his burns and lacerations soaked in bacta. He’d never leave, not without a gentle kiss to Obi-Wan’s forehead and the promise of food when he returned.

“Ben? Let’s get you inside, out of the sun.”

Obi-Wan blinked at the older, more weathered version of Cody who clung to his waist as he helped him off of his eopie. Though he had aged, the same look still remained in Cody’s eyes. Compassion and a hint of worry behind deep brown irises.

Cody led him to the entrance to the cave, past the kitchen and toward his chair in the living room.

“Sit,” Cody murmured softly, and Obi-Wan did without question. It wasn’t like he had much of a choice in the matter anyway. He was still soaked with sweat–the afternoon sun doing him no favors–and the headache blazing behind his eyes had only become stronger with time.

His arm ached and throbbed as he moved it ever so slightly, simply rotating the joint of his shoulder. Even this slight irritation of the bones in his forearm made him hiss from the splitting, violent, agony.

Still, being inside was a large improvement. At the very least, sitting was enough to quell the nausea that had been burning in his stomach for hours.

“Let’s get you out of some of these clothes. You’re soaked through,” Cody whispered, hands already tugging at the shawl draped over his shoulders.

Obi-Wan allowed the intrusion, refraining from commenting as Cody helped him unbuckle his belt, pulling it from his waist. Obi-Wan wished he could shuck off his sweat-soaked tunic as well, but he knew just as well as Cody that it would be difficult to remove with the state of his arm.

Cody pulled his boots off, then his socks, even rolling up the legs of his pants before pulling a vibroknife from his belt.

Of course, Obi-Wan knew he couldn’t leave the wet fabric on his skin forever, but it wasn’t his first choice for Cody to cut through the fabric. He didn't have many sets of extra clothes to spare.

“Sorry, “ Apologized Cody, invading Obi-Wan’s space for a moment and running the blade of the knife along the front of the tunic, then the arms. Obi-Wan held his breath until Cody’s hands gently pulled away the fabric that clung to his arm, but was relieved when it barely stung at all.

Cody seemed equally relieved and offered an empathetic smile.

“I’ll grab some water, then I’ll need to set that, ” Cody gestured toward Obi-Wan’s arm where he had gingerly rested it against the armrest of the chair. “If it’s misaligned. How is the pain?”

It had been so long– years– since Obi-Wan had been asked about his pain.

“I–my head feels…”

“Bad?” Cody supplied. Obi-Wan nodded, then flinched. “And your arm?”

“Broken. It hurts, ” The words were gritted out through his teeth.

Cody grimaced, seemingly displeased with the answer. “I’ll be right back. Stay there, please. ”

Obi-Wan wouldn’t have dreamed of moving, but Cody was remembering the war, back when Obi-wan would have done anything to get himself out of medical attention he didn’t deem strictly necessary.

Obi-Wan had once hated the slow pace of recovery–he never wanted to let anyone down by having to sit out of a fight. How many times had he wrapped up his own bleeding wounds in bacta-soaked bandages, already out the door of the medbay before anyone could stop him?

He felt differently now–there was no one to let down but himself. There was no urgency to recover, no desire to pick himself up and keep going against the odds. Cody remembered him to be a whirlwind of passion. Surely he would be disappointed to find that Obi-Wan had left that quality behind in the aftermath of the war?

“Here, drink some more.” Cody appeared from wherever he had gone, holding Obi-Wan’s canteen filled to the brim with water.

With his good hand, Obi-Wan brought it to his lips, drinking greedily.

“Can I…?” Cody said, motioning again toward Obi-Wan’s throbbing arm.

If he could, Obi-Wan would have said no, but instead he nodded.

“Oh…” Cody murmured, and his eyes grew wide. Obi-Wan tried not to focus on the agony caused by the pads of Cody’s fingertips drifting over the tender skin. It hurt, even the gentlest of touches over top of the bone.

He only barely held back a whimper.

“I’m sorry. I know it hurts.” Cody’s voice was soft and slightly shaky. “Do you think–do you think the bone is displaced?”

Obi-Wan–through distracting waves of radiating pain–tried to think. It hadn’t felt like he’d completely broken the bone in half, the pain more akin to the times he had endured hairline fracture in a past life. Not to mention, visually, it didn’t appear to show any displacement. So, he made his best guess, and shook his head once, wincing again with the aborted motion.

Worst case, it would have to be broken again to fix it, and with his head swimming, he couldn’t be damned to think about how much more pain that would involve.

“I don’t think it needs to be set then, but I’ll have to make a splint.”

Cody certainly had rudimentary medical knowledge from his time in the GAR. Obi-Wan had been on the receiving end of it many times.

Cody stood and walked around the cave, returning after several minutes with a roll of cloth that Obi-Wan used as leg wraps, and a few pieces of plastoid Obi-Wan had stashed away in a trunk.

Working slowly, with an unsure frown on his lips, Cody pressed one plastoid sheet around the base of his arm, cradling it, then secured a smaller piece around his elbow.

Obi-Wan kept quiet until Cody had tied his arm down, and then gently helped Obi-Wan move it to rest on his opposite shoulder, to help keep it as still as possible in the splint.

“Do you think you have painkillers? A hypo? Bacta?” Cody asked, surely interpreting that the wide-eyed stare on Obi-Wan’s face was almost certainly pain related.

Obi-Wan liked to think he wasn’t being obvious, but he apparently was. Still, it had been some time since he’d experienced pain in a way other than an occasional throb from his aging joints.

Obi-Wan wished he could shake his head, tell Cody no, he didn't have anything of the sort, but he did. It was for emergencies. Possibly emergencies involving Luke.

But surely, this counted as a justifiable emergency. He could potentially replace the hypo before it was missed. The oldest was likely nearing its expiration date anyway.

He moved his eyes to the right, nodding at a shelf hastily attached to the wall. “A hypo. In there, I-I think,” Obi-Wan stuttered with another half-abandoned wince. “Get the oldest one.”

Obi-Wan watched as Cody found three hypos tucked inside of a fairly sparse medkit, which notably, was barely larger than Cody’s hand. Obi-Wan counted himself lucky he hadn’t run into any major trouble, thus far, because he was certain the contents would not be enough to fix almost any medical issue–not anything worse than a minor laceration. He’d have to fix that at some point when his arm wasn’t broken.

But still, a hypo could stave off infections. An infection he could ill-afford. The benefits for pain management were almost negligible in the wake of it. But no less welcome for being a side-benefit.

Cody plucked one hypo from the kit, handling it with care as he carefully read the instructions on the side with a scrutinizing eye. He had always been a stickler for the rules, for propriety and standards.

“Ready?” Cody asked once he was finished, holding the hypo above the big vein in Obi-Wan’s neck. Obi-Wan didn’t hesitate to offer a brief nod.

Cody’s hands were gentle, his calloused fingers pressing against the skin, testing the spot to make sure he’d found the right vein to inject the hypo in. The touch brought gooseflesh to Obi-Wan’s skin and sent a strange shock down his spine. Even as Cody pressed the hypo into his neck, Obi-Wan couldn’t shake the strange sensation that rolled through his veins like unrelenting waves.

It had been so long since he’d felt something so primal –the spike of attraction–that he had almost forgotten how physical the sensation could be.

Even before the effects of the hypo began to reduce the pain, Obi-Wan had almost forgotten it, too preoccupied with unraveling the sharp explosion of fondness that had appeared as suddenly as a ghost.

“Alright, Si–Ben? Is it working? I was afraid it might have expired–”

“No. No. It’s working.” Obi-Wan blinked at Cody, who’d crouched in front of him again, worried eyes wide and lips pulled into a telling frown. The pain subsided, melted into something muted and just bearable enough that the curls in Cody’s hair and the little wrinkles that had stolen the space beside his eyes.

Suddenly, it was clear that this man was Cody.

The Cody Obi-Wan remembered was here, in this man’s soft touches and worried eyes. His infinite care, not only of Obi-Wan’s person, but for his comfort too.

“I–” Cody’s jaw hung open, then he shut it, mouth curling into a watery half-smile. “I’m sorry that happened–”

“It’s not your fault.” Obi-Wan breathed out, eyes heavy as his relief grew. Cody didn’t seem satisfied, the guilt still pressed into the watery edges of his eyes.

“I should have protected you, I should have said something, done something. ” Cody pressed his face into his palms, shaking his head.

“You don’t need to protect me. I have lived here myself for many years.” Obi-Wan spoke carefully, heart hammering inside his chest despite the control he exerted over his words.

The incredulous look on Cody’s face as he looked up from his hands did nothing to reduce Obi-Wan’s unease.

“I don’t think you’re incapable, Obi-Wan.” The name felt strange, hanging in the air like a ghost from a past age. “I didn’t come here to save you, I came here to be with you. Because of you. ”

Obi-Wan knew that, somewhere in the back of his mind he had always known that Cody was there for him–for them.

But to hear the words spoken aloud, once more, made it real.

Normally, Obi-Wan would have let the words simmer until their impact had disappeared and all that was left was a lingering silence. This time, he was compelled to say something, to ease the confusion and frustration that pulled at every curve of Cody’s face.

“I–” The words caught in his throat. “I’m glad you’re here. I’m glad you came… for me.”

Cody smiled. It was the same kind of smile he once had, when Obi-Wan brought him caf in the morning, a smile filled with trust and intimacy and fondness.

It had appeared in thousands of little moments in their life together, but yet, Obi-Wan said nothing.

Somehow, this silence wasn’t like the others–this time it was pleasant, an ode to past times where they had coexisted in the quiet.

Obi-Wan had forgotten how much he liked the comfort of aired feelings and nothing left to say.

After a moment, Cody stood, fingers trapping a loose piece of Obi-Wan’s long hair before tucking it behind his ear, a gesture that only this morning would have caused Obi-Wan to recoil, but this time he leaned into it.

“Remember how Skull used to have my neck when I let things like this happen to you?”

It had been a long time since Obi-Wan had thought about the 212th’s clone medic.

“Oh, yes. You would almost believe he was more angry with you than me,” Obi-Wan answered, remembering the angry lines on Skull’s forehead anytime Obi-Wan arrived at the doors of the medbay.

“That’s because it wasn’t any use being angry with you, you were unfixable. A menace. I was your minder.” Cody laughed– a laugh that resounded oddly between the walls of Obi-Wan’s cave.

Obi-Wan didn’t think his cave had ever heard the echoes of laughter before.

For another six weeks, Obi-Wan didn’t work. Calpen wouldn’t have allowed him back with a damaged arm, and Cody had insisted he pick up extra work instead for the time being.

Obi-Wan’s daily routine shifted into small domestic tasks, unburdened by the restraints of a strict schedule.

Often, he found himself watching for Luke in the early hours of the morning when the boy was assigned to his chores. For years, Obi-Wan had watched him in the evenings, playing outside with his parents hovering in their doorway. It was much different to watch Luke work, now ten years old. The baby Obi-Wan had brought to Tatooine was the age and ability of Anakin when he had first entered the order.

He tried not to think about that, not for more than a few solemn minutes, at least.

Obi-Wan had spent so long embroiled in bitterness–a lingering bitterness driven by the torturous last day of the war–letting it consume him from the inside out. But now? Was it truly what he wanted for himself?

Cody was equally a part of his mourned past as Anakin had been, Qui-Gon, the Jedi Order, and all of the people whose deaths had formed his very identity on Tatooine.

Nothing more than an old exile, Owen had spat at him once. While it had stung, Obi-Wan would be daft to not recognize the truth behind the words. With every death, every regret, and the weight of the Jedi Order’s future strapped to his back, Obi-Wan had long since resolved himself to a life without a destiny. He was meant for infinite sadness, for suffering.

But yet, Cody had come back to him, broken, but his core was the same. Cody’s soul glowed, casting a light on Obi-Wan’s shadow.

Perhaps all hadn’t been lost afterall? Maybe there was more than living and breathing and dying, existence without purpose?

As time crept along, Cody had become something more than a roommate, Obi-Wan even dared to call him a friend.

There was a lightness between them that hadn’t been there before and Obi-Wan found it easier to exist in his space without feeling crowded. For so many years, he had embraced solitude, pretending he preferred it.

He had apparently become very successful at lying to himself, because with each day that passed, he was reminded why companionship was more appealing.

Cooking became a nightly task, and the rest of the chores were done in tandem, the two of them tackling it in half the time. Moments of laughter were common in the evening hours after a shot of brandy and story from the war that reminded them of times long since gone.

“You always tell it wrong!” insisted Cody, rolling his eyes. Obi-Wan mirrored the eye roll, scoffing at the notion.

“No, I certainly do not.” Obi-Wan shook his head and poked Cody’s shoulder. “It was Anakin’s fault you fell in to begin with, not mine.”

He and Cody disagreed on the intricacies of the plot of their adventures into a quarry on Felucia with Anakin and Ahsoka in tow. “Whatever, Ben. What happened in the quarry, stays in the quarry,” Cody conceded.

Bickering felt familiar on his tongue, it came as easily as an old habit. It was an old habit, he reminded himself.

Something about the entanglement of their voices made something burn in his chest. Perhaps it was a simple case of nostalgia, but Obi-Wan couldn’t help but think something had awoken inside of him.

No, it wasn’t nostalgia, but the excitement that came with newness and resilience.

As time passed, their lives became nearly indistinguishable, intertwined enough that there wasn’t room for Obi-Wan to pretend he didn’t appreciate the company. With every second, minute, and hour, the warmth and fondness only grew more, like ivy ceaselessly crawling over the outside of an old house.

But with closeness came moments of vulnerability, ones Obi-Wan wished he could keep hidden.

In ten years, his conscious memories of the bitter parts of war– of Cody– became few and far between. In the evening hours, the memories came in the form of dreams. As much as he didn’t want to relive the hours leading up to Cody’s betrayal, it became a nightly occurrence.

Often he woke in tears, sometimes trembling awake without the sounds of his own screams.

One night, he awoke with his heart hammering inside of chest to find Cody there, hovering over him, a candle lit in his grasp, his brown eyes wide and unreadable. He was saying something–worry lacing his tone–but Obi-Wan could hardly hear him when it still felt like he was on Utapu again, falling to his death, certain Cody had killed him.

He was underwater, sinking deeper and deeper, the crack of blasterfire still ringing in his ears.

“Obi-Wan?”

When the words finally became clear, sharp pangs of humiliation stabbed through his stomach.

He froze in place, his eyes wide as he attempted to hold back tears that had already begun to spill from the very corners of his eyes. It was not unlike the times during the war where he had awoken from visions and nightmares with Cody crouched there by his side, practicing hands trailing across his shoulders and cheeks.

Except this was much worse, because this time, Cody couldn’t understand.

He felt the signs of panic gripping him, starting in his throat. Slowing his breathing, he tried to force himself to forget. It was difficult to do so with Cody’s warm eyes trained on him. It felt like a lie–the kindness situated in Cody’s form–not when Obi-Wan had just lived again his worst moment of cruelty.

The panic only grew, curling around his limbs, choking him at the neck, drowning him without water.

Obi-Wan wasn’t sure how long it persisted. It could have been a minute or it could have been an hour, time escaping him.

It felt like a hundred years that he clung to the soft lull of Cody’s whispered words, expecting the knot in his chest to eventually let loose.

Eventually it did, and Cody was still there, soft voice full of reassurances.

“Obi-Wan?” said Cody when Obi-Wan no longer felt like he was underwater. Obi-Wan swallowed harshly, then let out the breath he had been holding.

“I’m–I’m sorry.” The words were stuttered, barely believable, he was sure.

“No–no. Don’t be sorry,” whispered Cody, his eyes becoming softer as he brought the candle closer to Obi-Wan, holding it up between them. “Whatever it was, it wasn’t real. It was just a dream.”

Obi-Wan fought the urge to respond in anger, to tell Cody just how much it wasn’t a dream. It was a real experience, one Obi-Wan just couldn’t shake, no matter how much he wanted to forget it.

“I–I know,” he whispered instead.

Cody looked at him questioningly, like he knew the truth was buried beneath those two words.

But Obi-Wan could say no more about it. Not while Cody still could pretend it hadn’t happened.

A moment of silence followed, then another ten minutes. Neither of them dared to speak; tension burning between them like an electric current.

“How long have you been having nightmares?” Cody asked after another quiet moment, his hand crawling over to press against Obi-Wan’s shoulder. His touch felt like fire licking against his skin.

Ordinarily, he would have lied, trying to conceal the truth in an act of self-preservation, but something compelled him not to. “Often. Almost nightly. Some are worse than others.”

He could feel the sadness he saw in Cody’s eyes. He wasn’t sure yet if it was pity or not, but he tried to make himself believe that Cody understood.

“I have nightmares too,” said Cody eventually with his voice lower and quieter than normal. “It’s unavoidable. We’ve both been through a lot.”

The words held an undeniable truth that Obi-Wan didn’t particularly like to admit to himself. Though the logical part of his mind convinced him that nightmares were a natural psychological response to trauma, it was the trauma part he didn’t want to deal with.

Somehow, hearing it from Cody, whose eyes brimmed with telling tears, made him feel more willing to own up to that part.

That night they both slept side-by-side on Obi-Wan’s bedroll, their shoulders touching and breaths syncing together, as if they were made one once more.

Obi-Wan didn’t have the heart to tell him to leave.

If he were honest with himself, he didn’t really want Cody to leave anyway.

CHAPTER 3:

As time passed, Cody felt affection grip him.

It was unavoidable, undeniable.

Routine morphed into life. They lived together, working as a team with the ease they had during the war. They operated like a well-oiled machine, all of their daily tasks molding together perfectly. As Obi-Wan returned to work, they only became more functional.

Cody thought he might be bothered by spending each of his days with the same person, but nothing about Obi-Wan was a bother. In ten years, Obi-Wan had changed enough for Cody to discover new things about him with each passing day.

“You can knit?” His eyes grew wide as Obi-Wan casually admitted an old pastime over dinner one evening. Obi-Wan’s eyebrows rose as a small smile accompanied his red-tinted cheeks on his face.

“You seem surprised?” Obi-Wan asked and collected their plates.

“You just don’t seem like… you would enjoy that?” Cody muttered. How many droids had he seen Obi-Wan obliterate with the swing of his lightsaber? Obi-Wan had always seemed to take great pride in originality and each unique cut of his lightsaber through the air. How could those same hands do something as passive and repetitive as knitting?

“It’s quite relaxing, something to keep my hands busy,” Obi-Wan said with a shrug as he placed the plates into their sink. “But I don’t have much time for it these days.”

“You should make time. You can teach me.” Cody didn’t think before speaking, barely realizing he had committed himself to learning to knit. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to learn, rather, his true intentions were to find yet another way for them to spend their days together.

So, Obi-Wan taught him that night, patient as always as he helped Cody with the needles, hands cupped over the outside of Cody’s.

Cody only caught him chuckling over his shoulder twice.

“I don’t think I’m good at this,” said Cody after he had knitted just two poor looking rows.

He loved the little snicker that escaped Obi-Wan’s lips, and the small shake of his head as he plucked the needles and yarn from Cody’s hands to give him another tutorial.

Cody listened without a word, enjoying the measured tone of Obi-Wan’s voice and the way his steady hands moved around the yarn and needles with practiced ease.

Sometimes, when they both got restless and bored of knitting and cooking, they stripped down into their innermost linens and sparred out amongst the sand.

Cody liked the wild look in Obi-Wan’s eyes as he spun and twisted, staff in hand as he easily blocked Cody’s jabs. While both of them moved slower than they had in years past, the more time they spent practicing, the better Cody felt. It was as if he could breathe again for the first time in years.

Obi-Wan’s long hair often dripped with sweat as they twirled around each other, and a small smile would spread across his cheeks when he finally pinned Cody on his back in the sand.

“I win,” Obi-Wan said, breathing heavily through his mouth as he hovered over top of Cody, legs straddling Cody’s waist.

“You’re a Jedi, of course you won,” rebuked Cody, wearing a faux grimace.

“A Jedi without any connection to the Force doesn’t have much of an advantage, does he?” Obi-Wan said with a hearty laugh.

He didn’t get up, legs still pinning Cody to the ground long after their match had ended. Cody tried to quell his thoughts about the implication.

“Oh? So, your twenty plus years of combat training doesn’t count as an advantage?” Cody shot back and shoved Obi-Wan off his waist so he landed in the sand himself. Obi-Wan yelped, trying to scramble into a sitting position, but he was too late, Cody straddled him easily, spear now pressed across Obi-Wan’s shoulders instead.

“Cody, I am but an old man now, so no, that doesn’t count, clearly.”

Cody just shook his head and admired the way Obi-Wan’s disheveled hair looked splayed across his forehead. Even in his state, sweaty and covered in a layer of sticky sand, Obi-Wan was a sight to behold.

Cody had missed moments like this, time spent in the company of each other, alone in the universe.

Cody slept less than Obi-Wan. He had always considered himself a night owl, but it wasn’t just that fact that had kept him up. Most nights, he was overcome with a harrowing despair that kept him up, toying with him until he was forced to rise from his bedroll in search of some distracting activity to occupy his mind.

One night, he found himself sitting outside tinkering with a few spare parts to try and fix up an old toaster he had bought off of the Jawas.

The breeze was cool and he breathed deeply as he felt it wash over him, cleansing him of the grief that constantly plucked at his mind late into the night.

He was halfway through rewiring the electrical components of the toaster when he heard familiar whimpers drifting from inside the cave. It wasn’t unusual, the small discontented noises of Obi-Wan’s nightmares, but this time, they grew louder as the moments passed.

Concern crept into Cody’s veins and he sat stiffly, fingers paused where they were tangled in wires.

Then there were screams.

Blood curdling, agonized, screams.

His stomach fell. He stood abruptly, not hesitating to toss his project aside as he rushed into their dwelling, practiced feet taking him to Obi-Wan where he was laid on his back on a bedroll.

Obi-Wan’s blankets were pooled around his calves. His eyes were open wide, searching for something in the distance that wasn’t there. Cody dropped to his knees, his own panic flooding through his body as he took Obi-Wan’s shoulders in his hands.

The man shook violently, almost as if he were trembling in the freezing temperatures of Hoth.

“Obi-Wan! Ben! Wake up!” Cody shook him softly, a tactic he found to be successful when he usually woke Obi-Wan from his nightmares. Obi-Wan was gripped with nightmares several times a week, and Cody usually came to wake him now, but most of his bouts didn’t involve harsh screams and shaking arms and legs.

“Wake up!” He repeated, hands shaking harder as he watched Obi-Wan’s head thrash from side-to-side.

“Cody, don’t! Please, don’t!” Obi-Wan yelled out, still asleep.

The words felt heavy in Cody’s mind as he digested them. What was Obi-Wan dreaming about?

“No, you know how this ends. I can’t die now, not yet!” Only a few seconds passed before Obi-Wan yelled again, voice loud in the silence of the desert night.

The words felt like another stab to Cody’s heart. Whatever Obi-Wan’s dream entailed, he was suffering, and somehow Cody was involved.

Cody shook him harder, hands then pressing over Obi-Wan’s cheek.

He would have to forget about the words until morning, but he needed to wake Obi-Wan and allow him to break away from whatever horrors his mind had decided to put him through.

Finally, with another harsh shake, Obi-Wan’s eyes stopped their rapid movement, replaced with a sudden awareness coupled with an audible gasp.

Obi-Wan shot upward, sucking in large gulps of air and hands crawling into his hair to tug at the roots. Gently, Cody pried Obi-Wan fingers out of his hair with soft words spilling from his lips, “Hey. Hey, no. Look at me.”

He tried to distract, to tilt Obi-Wan’s chin upward so they could lock eyes.

With a soft touch, he pressed Obi-Wan’s head upward, noting the tears that had escaped the corners of his eyes. Finally, he said, “Cody?”

Cody breathed, trying to forget Obi-Wan’s plea.

Cody, don’t! Please, don’t!

He shook the thought from his brain, focusing on the soft blue eyes in front of him. “It was just a dream, Ben. Wherever you were, you aren’t there anymore. You’re here with me, at home.”

Obi-Wan blinked once, then brought his hands to scrub at his eyes.

“You’re… real,” muttered Obi-Wan when he looked up again, a frown painted across his face, forehead wrinkles prominent. It was as though he hardly believed it, like Cody hadn’t come to Tatooine at all.

“I am. Here,” Cody held out his hand, watching closely as Obi-Wan eyed it for a minute, then grasped it in his own. “See? I’m real.”

Obi-Wan released a trembling breath, then nodded. His fingers shook in Cody’s grasp, twitching every few seconds like wanted to rip them away, but then changed his mind.

They sat in the quiet for several minutes, not that Cody was counting them anyway. He would sit with Obi-Wan as long as he needed, even as his bones grew tired in the early morning hours.

“Can we lay down?” murmured Obi-Wan in the midst of Cody’s eyes finally closing with exhaustion.

Cody blinked and then offered a soft smile. The tear tracks on Obi-Wan’s face were dry, and the wildness in his eyes had changed into something of a mellow melancholy.

“Of course.”

It had happened several times now, but this time it came naturally. Obi-Wan laid on his side, Cody’s arm snaking over his back, grasping him around his chest. Cody allowed himself to relax into the grounding touch, the moment of unrelenting comfort and companionship.

Obi-Wan sniffled, head pressing back into the crook of Cody’s outstretched arm. One of his hands rubbed at his eyes before he settled in, pushing closer to Cody–seemingly without thinking. Cody allowed his fingers to comb through the unruly strands of Obi-Wan’s long hair, noting the little streaks of gray that were peppered amongst the auburn.

For a moment, Cody could have pretended he was on the Negotiator, wrapped around Obi-Wan, waiting for an inevitable beep of his comlink. There were so many times they had arranged themselves just this way, sometimes Obi-Wan curled behind Cody’s back instead. Cody remembered how much he looked forward to those hidden moments when they managed to escape the chaos that persistently kept them busy and exhausted. They had cherished those times, waiting for them in anticipation like a child waited for their gifts on their birthday.

He shook away the thought, allowing a sigh to escape him as he settled his head into the pillow.

“Goodnight, Obi-Wan.”

Cody closed his eyes.

Cody woke up warm, and oddly sweat-slick.

For a moment, he was confused, because the desert nights weren’t exactly warm, usually causing him to wake covered in gooseflesh. However, the second he opened his eyes, he realized the cause was perched on his chest with his wild auburn hair floating across his pecs.

His heart skipped a beat.

Cody stared down at the top of Obi-Wan’s head, a little smile on his lips; he could even feel the little, even puffs of air emerging from Obi-Wan’s lips. He noticed the tiny flush that seemed to stretch from Obi-Wan’s neck all the way up to the top of his exposed cheek.

He held his breath, like if he let it out, this new reality would be revealed to be a dream.

Many times they had shared a small cot or bedroll, legs intertwined and arms slung over each other. At the time, he hadn’t appreciated those soft, morning moments shared between them; all he’d been able to think about was how sweaty his sleep pants were, rather than how privileged he was to still be holding onto Obi-Wan when he awoke.

It felt like a breath of fresh air, a return to form, to find Obi-Wan enclosed in his arms once again.

Obi-Wan shifted, a small moan escaping his lips as he lifted his head up just an inch.

“Morning,” Cody ventured, holding his breath, worried even this small greeting was a misstep, would set them back.

Obi-Wan stopped moving for a fraction of a second–then turned his head so Cody could just see the very corner of his bright blue eyes.

Obi-Wan’s cheeks were bright pink.

And quickly turning into something more reminiscent of a deep red.

Cody felt heat rising to his own cheeks.

Neither of them wore shirts, their sweat-slick skin pressing against each other as they breathed together.

“Oh, good morning, Cody,” Obi-Wan said, then pushed himself upward so he was perched on his side, elbow digging into the bedroll below him. Careful to lift his weight off Cody’s chest.

Cody tried his best not to stare, not to look at the muscular frame of Obi-Wan’s chest, or the slightly grayed hair that stretched from his neck down to his stomach.

“I– You had a dream last night. A nightmare, and I stayed.” Cody felt the urge to explain, but Obi-Wan didn’t look like he had expected one. The man just rubbed his eyes with his free hand and cleared his throat.

“I… remember,” he said finally, words seeming to catch in his throat, like he was hesitant to say them at all.

Cody knew the feeling well–knew what it was like to remember something you wish you didn’t. His own dreams could be unpleasant, but he was better at hiding them than Obi-Wan. Sometimes, he would avoid sleeping at all when he knew his mind would be consumed with the horrors of a past life.

“I’m sorry for waking you,” Obi-Wan apologized, guilt creeping into his watery eyes and hands twisting together awkwardly.

“No, don’t be sorry. I was awake anyway.”

It wasn’t even a lie–he had been awake already– though, it hadn’t exactly been his choice.

Obi-Wan didn’t seem satisfied with the answer, eyebrows raising just a hair.

Cody sat motionless as he remembered Obi-Wan’s panic the night before–his screams of terror.

Cody, don’t! Please, don’t!

He swallowed, unease rising just thinking about what the words could have meant.

No, you know how this ends. I can’t die now, not yet!

Dreams were so telling about the inner workings of one’s mind.

“You were dreaming about dying,” Cody heard himself say, before immediately kicking himself when he remembered how personal his own dreams were. He certainly wouldn’t want anyone asking about them.

“I–Yes. I often do,” Obi-Wan said stiffly, turning away. Ah.

Cody tried to swallow his guilt; there was nothing he could do to take it back at this point. His curiosity –his fear– gripped him and wasn’t letting go.

He swore there were tears collecting in the corners of those beloved blue eyes.

“And I was the one trying to kill you?” he asked, horrified, but he had to be sure.

“Yes. My mind likes to replay memories, almost like a game, testing, to see if the same thing would happen if I had done something differently.”

It was a raw admission, one spoken with more feeling than anything Cody had heard from Obi-Wan since his initial arrival on Tatooine.

But one word stuck in his brain.

Memories.

“Memories?” Cody asked, voice a shocked whisper.

Obi-Wan’s face twisted into a dark frown, his eyebrows drawn. Shifting backward, he looked incredulously in Cody’s direction. There was something like disbelief in his eyes, and his formerly pink cheeks seemed to pale in an instant.

“Yes. On Utapu, you tried to kill me. ”

The words loomed overhead like a dark rain cloud.

Cody’s heart stopped, his stomach churned as the words sank into his mind.

He had tried to kill Obi-Wan at the end of the war? He had no recollection of it. Not a single frame of his memory could corroborate the claim.

“ No. No. I didn’t–I don’t remember that– I didn’t try to–! ”

“Yes, you did. Cody–” Obi-Wan sat up fully, limbs rigid and cheeks somehow even more flushed than before. “What is the last thing you remember from the war?”

It felt less like a question, and more like an accusation.

Cody tried to compose himself enough to answer. “I–I remember–the war ended. ”

It was a lie–because his last memory was still clear in his mind–but he couldn’t admit it now, not knowing he had attempted to murder the man he had loved for as long as he could remember.

“That isn’t what happened, Cody. I remember it so clearly. It haunts me.” For a moment, a haunted look indeed flashed in Obi-Wan’s eyes.

Guilt trapped Cody, melting him into a puddle under Obi-Wan’s pained gaze. Everything –the air around him, Obi-Wan’s words, the heat of Tatooine– felt crushing, like the weight of a thousand stones pressing him down into the sand.

“I need,” Obi-Wan whispered breathlessly, “I need to be alone. ”

He was gone before Cody could muster an apology, much less say anything at all.

It was the Obi-Wan Cody had first found on Tatooine again; he was composed but wound tight.

Cordial, but nothing more than an acquaintance.

Angry. Scared. Distant. Alone again.

Cody could barely bring himself to breathe.

Numb.

Obi-Wan felt numb. Incensed, and relieved all at once.

Things had been so good. Too good, apparently. Obi-Wan hadn’t forgotten about Cody’s lack of discussion about the final day of the war, but Obi-Wan had considered that it was a conversation he could wait to have, until Cody was ready, that was.

Their life together, which they had built over many months, had become a near picture of what Obi-Wan had once imagined for them after the war. They lived together, ate together, and worked together. Each day, they spent time discussing their interests and sharing memories. Some nights, they watched the sunset, admiring the orange hues the twin suns left behind as they dipped behind the sand dunes. Other nights, they kept busy working on their speeder or watching Luke play outside the Lars’s house.

Everything Obi-Wan had dreamed of had come together, forming before his eyes without him trying. Sometimes, he thought it might be the work of the Force, and other times he assumed it was all a happy coincidence.

No matter how settled he had become, his comfort had been torn down by Cody’s continued denial of reality–of the actions that had rendered their continued partnership impossible.

Obi-Wan could barely believe that Cody had forgotten something so monumental. How could he? No other day in his entire life had been more significant to Obi-Wan; no moment of betrayal had been so significant. It was the final straw, the last betrayal.

He allowed himself to cry as he wandered into the desert. He hadn’t bothered to bring his canteen, but he didn’t care. Obi-Wan walked for several minutes before dropping to his knees in the sand, allowing every unspoken word of anger to escape from his lips as he sobbed in the presence of no one.

“How could he forget? How could he!” he screamed, pounding his fist into the sand until his knuckles were bleeding and hot.

He would have forgiven Cody in an instant if he had remembered and apologized. He wouldn’t have had to think about it twice. Somehow, a satisfying resolution seemed out of reach.

Again, he cried out to Qui-Gon, as if somehow his rage would be enough to summon his master. He knew it wouldn’t, deep down, but he tried nevertheless.

It was only when the heat of the suns became unbearable, rising into the highest point in the sky and beating down their unrelenting heat, that Obi-Wan returned to the cave.

Though they were not meant to work that day, Cody wasn’t there. In many ways, it felt wrong for the cave to be empty and lifeless. Cody had become a part of their home, he was home.

That night, Cody returned with pinked cheeks and a deep frown. Obi-Wan watched him from his chair, heart beating double its usual pace as he felt another stab of irritation. This Cody–with longer curly hair and softer eyes–was so different from the soldier who had shot him down. It was barely the same person, yet Obi-Wan held this new Cody accountable for the crimes of the one he had known before.

Cody didn’t look at him, not even for half of a second, and simply walked himself to his bedroll, shoulders facing away from where Obi-Wan sat in his chair.

That night, Obi-Wan didn’t sleep.

He was sure Cody didn’t either.

They both rose with the sun, tugging on their layers of clothes in tandem, tension still holding tight between them. It was a rawness that Obi-Wan thought they had left behind.

It was only when they sat down for breakfast that Cody spoke, his voice gruffer than it had been in some time.

“I owe you an apology.”

Obi-Wan sucked in a deep breath, struck with the gravity of the words.

Those were the words he wanted to hear for months, the words he swore would fix everything between them and restore a bond that had been severed at its root, but somehow, they didn’t make him feel any different.

“There is something I should have told you, but for some reason, I convinced myself that nothing had ever changed between us. Clearly, it did.” Cody set his spoon down where he finished his bowl of porridge.

“What should you have told me?” Obi-Wan asked hesitantly, because he wasn’t sure there was anything Cody could say that could heal the wounds his past self had caused.

“I–when the chip was removed–the last memories I retained were from during the war, several weeks before its end. I–I remember we were on Jakku, sitting on our cots looking out on the desert from our tent, and we were talking about our lives. What they would look like after the war.”

It was true then, Cody didn’t remember raising his arm, demanding his General’s death. Tears leaked from Cody’s eyes, and this time, Obi-Wan didn’t stop himself from reaching out with a steady hand to wipe them away, the pad of his thumb pressed over soft skin.

“I remember,” Obi-Wan said, a certain shakiness in his own voice. Like it was yesterday, he did not say.

“That’s the last memory I have. I don’t remember anything about what you have told me. Not calling for your murder. Not the end of us. It doesn’t seem like a possibility that I could have–we were so–it was so–what did I do wrong?”

The question weighed heavily in his chest, almost burning. Dread spread across him, digging into him with all its strength. He swallowed down his nausea.

“You didn’t do anything wrong, Cody,” Obi-Wan said. “You–”

His words caught in the back of his throat.

For a moment, he thought he might not be able to say them after all. They were going to hurt.

But he could not lie to this man again, not even by omission.

“You–” he paused, to gather his strength. “You were the one to end things. You let me go.”

The silence was expected. So were the wide, unblinking eyes staring at him.

“No. No. ” Cody stood abruptly, shaking his head. “I didn’t–why–?”

“You had your reasons, but you only told me one thing.”

Cody blinked at him, and Obi-Wan could practically feel his inner conflict. The deliberate decisions he was making in the choice of his words.

Obi-Wan gave him that time.

“You wanted to wait until after the war, until we could be sure that we could spend our days together openly. You wanted to wait, but that’s all you said.”

It felt like some sick twist of fate. That was exactly what Cody had wanted all along; what Obi-Wan had wanted all along. He’d wanted an ‘after the war’ where they wouldn’t have to deal with the pressures of upcoming battles, or fallen brothers, or losing each other in the midst of it all.

They lived that life now, the one Cody had apparently dreamt of in the last moments he remembered. Except, life on Tatooine was stained by the reminders of the Empire and the ten years of time that had kept them apart.

But, it was the life they had dreamed of all the same.

For the first time, Obi-Wan found that he didn’t care about what had happened in the past. No longer did the grip of bitterness have a stronghold on him.

After a long pause, Obi-Wan looked up to find Cody’s face vacant, emotions hidden somewhere behind a stoic expression he often wore.

“I can’t change what I said,” Cody began, voice breaking as he spoke and hands trembling where he had placed them on the table. “I can’t pretend I know what that version of me was going through. I can’t remember why I felt that giving up was the right call to make. But I do know, this version of me won’t leave. I won’t turn on you, I won’t give up on everything we have.”

Obi-Wan wouldn’t give up on what they had either, because it was better than what they had discussed and dreamed about in times where their future had been so unclear.

Cody looked at him, apologetic eyes wide and his lips ajar like he wanted to offer more apologies, more affirmations of how he truly felt.

Obi-Wan felt a sudden urge to collapse into his arms, holding him tight until they were both short of breath but full of life again.

So, he stood, mind made up and heart thumping loudly inside of his chest.

“Cody,” he whispered, walking over to where he sat on his stool, his own hands shaking as he reached out and clasped the sharp edge of Cody’s jaw in his calloused hand.

“Obi-Wan,” Cody murmured back, brokenly.

Obi-Wan couldn’t wait another moment, and certainly couldn’t deny the electricity that pulsed between them. He pressed himself into Cody’s chest, relinquishing his grip on uncertainty and self-preservation as he buried his face in the skin of Cody’s neck.

The universe broke with them, everything around them fading into the background and halting to a stop. Obi-Wan heard Cody’s harsh breaths, smelled the musky scent of his skin, touched the dampened tunic on Cody’s back. It was all violently real, every newly observed sensation like the burst of a firework.

And Obi-Wan had once thought the glowing spark between a pair of lovers was a myth.

Their embrace remained solidly in place until the first of the Tatooine suns crested over the top of the farthest sand dune, an indication that they were meant to begin their journey into Anchorhead.

Cody pulled back first, tears dried on his cheeks, only the stains left behind. The expression carved into his face was unreadable. Was it fondness? Regret? Desire? Or perhaps it was all three.

“Obi-Wan,.” muttered Cody again. Obi-Wan nodded, letting out a shaking breath and taking Cody’s wrist between his fingers. All Obi-Wan wanted was to let go of the shackles of the past, break through bars of the prison walls, and sprint past the guards. Even a taste of freedom was enough for him to be convinced; it was time to leave the past behind.

For better and worse.

And for good.

“Let’s begin again,” Obi-Wan requested without an ounce of regret or spite.

CHAPTER 4:

Beginning again, as Obi-Wan called it, was better than Cody had expected. Laughter ran free, every contingency gone. They slept together now every night, Obi-Wan’s warmth always pressed up against him. Though most things felt the same, there was a certain freedom attached to their routine, because now their fragile ties had been tightened into unbreakable knots.

And it had only been a week.

That night they sat outside, legs dangling as they watched the suns paint the sky in hues of purple and orange. There was something different about it, and Cody couldn’t quite place his finger on it. Perhaps it was the long stretch of clouds that passed through the center of the lower sun, or perhaps it was Obi-Wan’s head tucked in the space between his shoulder and his cheek.

“I can feel it again.” Obi-Wan murmured, cutting through the comfortable silence.

“Feel what?” Cody asked, and Obi-Wan pulled his head up again, hair mussed. He smiled, eyes reflecting the last light.

“The Force, Cody. It’s been gone for so long, but I can feel it right here.” Obi-Wan pulled Cody’s hand to his chest, pressing it over the space between his ribs. Cody couldn’t feel it –wouldn’t feel it– but he smiled brightly nonetheless, mirroring the grin spread across Obi-Wan’s face. “I can feel it singing.”

“That’s–how long has it been?” Cody asked, not expecting Obi-Wan’s answer in the slightest.

“Nearly ten years.”

It had been a long time, much longer than Cody could have imagined.

“How does it feel?” Cody asked instead of prying for an explanation of how, or why . Those questions were far less important than the man in front of him. He gently began moving from Obi-Wan’s chest up to his shoulder, then his neck.

“Like warmth. Fulfillment. It’s hard to describe.” Obi-Wan’s eyes glistened and he trapped his bottom lip underneath his teeth. “It almost feels like an old friend–one I will have to get to know again.”

The corner of Obi-Wan’s lip twitched upward and Cody felt his cheeks redden at the comparison.

“You know, Obi-Wan. I think we still need to get to know each other just a little bit better.” Cody said a moment later, smirking as he scooted closer to Obi-Wan, their foreheads almost touching.

They blinked at each other, eyes adjusting to the dimming light.

Obi-Wan’s eyes were brighter than ever before, filled to the brim with an indescribable softness that Cody could only wish he would live to see again.

“Oh?” said Obi-Wan, the man’s finger’s crawling up the sleeve of Cody’s jacket toward his exposed neck. A bolt of excitement jolted through Cody’s veins as he leaned in, breath intertwining with Obi-Wan’s.

He closed his eyes, allowing another stuttering breath.

Then Obi-Wan’s lips were on his, molding together like they were meant for each other all along. It felt familiar–much like the many times they had kissed before–but it felt brand new all the same. That feeling–comfort and familiarity and exhilaration mixed together–was intoxicating.

“That was…” Obi-Wan’s words were a whisper. He smiled gently.

“It was,” Cody replied.

Just two weeks later, Obi-Wan left to get in bed early one night–that was what he had told Cody, at least.

After the sun had set, Obi-Wan suggested Cody take a look at their speeder since it had been making a strange noise after the last time they had ridden it into town. Cody had raised an eyebrow, likely because they usually settled in for the night, reading in their chairs or next to each other on their bedrolls.

“Just heading to bed early. It was a long week.” Cody pressed another kiss to his temple, nodding sympathetically.

Obi-Wan had left Cody outside, then stopped into their kitchen to pull out the fresh fruit he hid in one of the uppermost cupboards. He moved quickly, chopping up the meiloorun, fuji apples, and pears with haste. He stacked them on a plate then added a hearty serving of chocolate and two glasses of wine. He’s had the wine hidden away for years now, he had never had an excuse to use it.

He fumbled his way to the small cavern they had been slowly transitioning into a proper bedroom. Now there were strings of lights outlining the ceiling, and their bedrolls were suspended on a wooden frame. Hells, Cody had even returned with a rug in decent condition the last time he had attended a flea market.

It was homey now, a place to relax in each others’ presence. Obi-Wan set the plate down on the small table tucked up against the side of the bed and surveyed the room where he had meticulously placed candles across the floor and small vases with fresh flowers he had paid more for than he’d wanted to. He lit a match, then lit every candle until the cavern was filled with glowing light.

Obi-Wan beamed at his work, surveying the scene with a sense of glee which months ago, he wouldn’t have imagined being able to feel.

It was perfect– the soft light, the smell of flowers, the gentle warmth from the lit candles. Obi-Wan could only hope Cody would think so as well.

That afternoon they had bathed, using a large portion of their water supply to fill the basin Obi-Wan had rarely used for bathing before. Obi-Wan had put on fresh clothes–the nicest ones he had–and had even dropped a hint of cologne on his wrist.

It all felt strange, but not unwelcome. Even during the war, there hadn’t been so much time to pamper one another, even if there had been more resources than there were on Tatooine. But now, there was time , and Obi-Wan didn’t want to waste another minute.

He hadn’t a clue how much time they had left to live in anonymity, he didn’t know how quickly Cody would age, he didn’t know how long it would be before the Empire came for Luke, and Obi-Wan would be forced to stand in the way of danger to protect him.

He planned to embrace every moment, clinging to each hour of his day like it would be the last hour he would ever live.

Obi-Wan sat on the bed waiting for Cody’s inevitable return to their bedroom. He flipped through a flimsi book Cody had brought him, slipping his reading glasses over his face.

It was only a short while before Obi-Wan heard the soft patter of feet in the kitchen, then the splash of water, and Cody sighing.

He smiled to himself, feeling his heart race. He hadn’t set any expectations for whatever was ahead of them for the evening. It didn’t matter if they simply sat beside each other, eyes locked, for hours.

In another moment, Cody’s footsteps echoed, then he was there, standing in the entrance to their bedroom, eyes blown wide.

“Obi-Wan? What–what is all this?” It was then Obi-Wan noticed Cody stood bare-chested in front of him, his shirt gripped tightly in one hand, and his boots in the other. He looked good.

No, perfect.

Obi-Wan admired the way his body had changed in ten years. Cody had filled out, his chest and arms no longer skinny from endless battle and too little of an appetite. His stubble grew thicker now–though he still shaved–and the hair around his temples had grayed even more since he’d come to Tatooine.

“It’s–” Obi-Wan swallowed as Cody approached him, the ex-commander’s lips curled upward and hands placed on his hips. “For us.”

“It’s perfect, Obi-Wan,” Cody whispered, a certain gentleness in his eyes as he sat beside Obi-Wan. His hand pressed against Obi-Wan’s thigh, just above his knee. Obi-Wan could feel the heat through his thin linen pants and he felt his cheeks redden. Cody slowly reached forward, catching a loose strand of Obi-Wan’s hair between his fingertips. Gently, he tucked it behind Obi-Wan’s ear, his touch lingering against his neck. “You brought food?”

Obi-Wan nodded and Cody leaned over him, plucking a piece of the meiloorun from the plate and holding it up. “You first.”

Obi-Wan raised an eyebrow.

Cody placed the piece of fruit in Obi-Wan’s mouth. It tasted sweet, perfectly ripe.

“It’s good,” Obi-Wan whispered, then reached for a pear. It was Cody’s favorite fruit, and it had been difficult to find, but the way Cody’s face lit up when Obi-Wan placed a slice of it in his mouth was priceless.

They finished their fruit and chocolate before sipping at the wine. They spoke of their remembrances from the war more openly now, no longer crushed by the weight of it. The ugliness of the war was undeniable of course, but there was freedom in letting go, in remembering the good times and choosing to settle with the rest.

It was some time before the wine began to have its effect, but when it did, the soft blur of Cody’s reddened cheeks and his wild curls made something burn in Obi-Wan’s stomach, a feeling that hadn’t been awakened in many years.

Starting in his cheeks, a long string of warmth coiled like a slithering snake downward settling deep in his stomach.

Cody watched him with eyes that seemed to glow under the soft orange light. His soft lips were parted, drawing Obi-Wan’s gaze toward them when he ran the edge of his tongue across the surface of them.

“ Hi.” Cody said looking like he might say more, like there was something sitting on the tip of his tongue.

But whatever Cody was going to say, Obi-Wan never heard it.

He caught Cody’s mouth with his, closing the space between them and pressing Cody backward against the pillow. Their bodies collided, Obi-Wan pressing farther and farther against Cody’s chest until he had pinned the man against the bed. Cody gasped against Obi-Wan’s mouth, kissing him back with boldness and desperation. Their tongues molded together, teeth scraping against each other. There was a taste of iron and blood where Cody’s teeth dug into Obi-Wan’s bottom lip.

Cody tasted of coffee and felt as solid as stone under Obi-Wan’s lingering fingertips, his muscular frame becoming more apparent with each of Obi-Wan’s exploratory touches.

Arms wrapped around each others’ sides and backs, they kissed again, longer this time, passion pooling between them and a sense of feral freedom growing with each slide of the tongues.

When they broke free, they breathed heavily, eyes locking for only a second before Obi-Wan pressed forward again, his mouth crushed against Cody’s.

“ Fuck,” whispered Cody against Obi-Wan’s mouth, a soft, incredulous laugh tumbling out with the word.

Then, there were hands balled in the fabric of Obi-Wan’s shirt, pulling him to the side. Before Obi-Wan could protest, Cody had pinned him to the bed instead. Obi-Wan saw the opportunity, and allowed his hands to crawl down from Cody’s back, down his sides, kneading into the gentle curve of his ass. Cody’s breath hitched, and he licked harder into Obi-Wan’s mouth.

Obi-Wan could feel Cody’s arousal digging into his thigh, coaxing a moan from between his lips.

Desperation filled the air, curling around them and blocking out everything around them.

It was just them, finally.

There was no one there to hear them, no awaiting calls on his comlink, no time limitation. No, it was better than anything the could have experienced before.

Freedom.

Obi-Wan allowed his hands to tangle with Cody’s curls, a soft whine erupting from Cody when he let his fingers wander over his scalp.

Oh.

The sound made Obi-Wan’s stomach pool with arousal, every sensation and touch causing a jolt of lightning to course through his veins.

“Too many clothes,” Cody gritted out into Obi-Wan’s mouth eventually, and Obi-Wan couldn’t have agreed more.

“ Then take them off, ” he grumbled back, parting with Cody’s lips for a few moments. Cody’s lips were a deep red, almost purple, and his cheeks were tinted pink. Mostly, he was disheveled. Pieces of his hair were slung wildly over the top of his head, and the skin of his chest gleamed with sweat. Obi-Wan couldn’t help but swallow at the sight, suddenly feeling much too warm for his thin set of clothes.

Cody wasted no time, fingers sloppily pulling at the buttons of Obi-Wan’s pants, shucking them down his legs with ease. Obi-Wan reached for his own shirt as Cody did so, feeling the slight coolness of the desert night on his skin.

Cody watched him, lips still parted, eyes tracing each part of Obi-Wan’s body like he didn’t want to forget a single thing.

Their bodies moved together with familiarity, each touch placed with determination to please. Obi-Wan was surprised that after so long, he still remembered the way it made Cody whine when he dragged the pad of his thumb along the edge of Cody’s pants just underneath the waistband.

“Now you have too many clothes,” whispered Obi-Wan through the hint of a gasp. There were hands crawling underneath the waistband of his briefs, fingers splayed across the skin of his thigh.

Then Cody’s pants were gone –and so were his own– and everything in the universe boiled down to the feeling of their bodies moving in tandem, as if they were one.

Obi-Wan had forgotten what it felt like to be close, to share the most private and vulnerable parts of himself without a regret or contingency. Every steep wall he built had all but crumbled into a pile of dust, and every hesitation he upheld was washed away.

That night they slept soundly, echoes of pleasure faded to a soft contentment.

Their eyes locked in the early hours of the morning, blue and brown, mirroring each other.

Something compelled Obi-Wan to say something, to fill in the quietness of the hour, but a tenderness in Cody’s smile reminded him he didn’t have to.

There wasn’t always a necessity to say something.

But Obi-Wan wanted to say something –confess something.

“Cody I…” he let the words linger on his tongue, Cody’s expectant eyes watching with a softness that Obi-Wan could feel in his chest.

It hadn’t ever left him, he realized–the affection he thought had disappeared into thin air. No, it had been there all along, still beating alongside his heart.

Obi-Wan whispered the same words that he spoke on the day Cody had let him go, but this time, there was hope hidden inside the six words instead of despair.

“I love you, I always have.”

#cwrb2023 #cwrb #codywan #tatooine husbands #hurt/comfort #fanfic #fanfiction #obi wan kenobi #commander cody #so this is 20K #read on ao3 to make it easier if you want

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ihathbenobiwankenobied · 2 years

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Hello there again! The most wonderfully talented and kind @journen and I are here with out second installment for the @codywanreversebang event! I am continuously honored to have worked with Jurnee on this and I am elated that we get to share this second part with you all! Go see Journen's incredible artwork (the prompt that inspired this fic!!) on Tumblr and AO3

orbit me slowly

Summary:

In retrospect, perhaps Obi-Wan should have expected that Cody would keep his distance. After all, Obi-Wan’s last words to him hadn’t been his most… gentle.

Wait for me. Until after the war, until the dust settles. Then– we can have everything we want Cody…anything.

(Or, after an injury leaves Obi-Wan down and out, he realizes that time isn't as unlimited as he once believed)

Chapter 2/2

Beep. Beep. Beep.

The sound was incessant, burning in his consciousness endlessly. It was loud, but at the same time, it seemed so far away.

What is that treacherous noise?

Obi-Wan sunk further into awareness with a dull pounding of his head becoming very apparent. He let himself inhale, finding that something was covering his face. The rest of him felt like– well, nothing. It was more akin to the absence of feeling and the absence of pain.

It was an odd sensation, both feeling awake, but not fully cognizant, and Obi-Wan wracked his mind tirelessly for what was possibly happening. Even after a moment of consideration, his mind still seemed just as blank and empty. Then, he heard a voice floating somewhere far in the distance.

“–Wan?” It sounded muffled, but his brain quickly supplied a thought. Medbay. I am in the medbay. Someone is calling for me. It certainly explained the strange fuzziness of his senses and the sterile taste and smell that came from the presumed oxygen mask that covered his face.

His first attempt to open his eyes was useless, his eyelids wanting to fight against the commands of his brain, but he managed to wrench them open on the second try. Before him, someone loomed out of focus, but they felt inches away from him. Obi-Wan took in another harsh breath feeling the restraint of the bulky oxygen mask.

Each breath felt like a task of its own.

“Obi-Wan?” He heard his full name from above and tried to blink a few times to bring the person’s image into focus. Is it Cody?

Obi-Wan wanted it to be Cody. Somewhere deep inside of him, he only really wanted Cody to be there watching over him as he slept. However, as his eyesight became more clear, he could just begin to make out the longer hair and worried eyes of his former Padawan, Anakin.

“An’kin–?” He managed to slur out. “Where… mmm… Cody?” He was disoriented, and he had not meant to sound so… demanding, but his tongue was not cooperating with his mind. What, am I? Sedated? I don’t feel right.

His vision swam and he could feel the dryness of his mouth against his tongue. He was thirsty. He wished he could try and explain it to Anakin, but when he went to open his mouth, his tongue was heavy and immovable.

Instead, he sighed.

“He’s– still tend— I will–” The words were broken to Obi-Wan’s ears, barely meaning anything to him as they cut in and out. Obi-Wan saw the confusion cross Anakin’s face as he attempted to say something back, so Obi-Wan shut his mouth and attempted to blink the blurriness out of his eyes.

He looked down once his vision had somewhat cleared and observed the harsh white bandaging that encased his arms and torso. For a moment, he could not remember what had happened, but Anakin’s garbled words flooded his senses. Obi-Wan had just managed to make out the word fire when he remembered, the images of the oncoming flames abruptly flashing through his mind.

Cody! Did I make it in time?

While he was unable to feel the pain, the memory of the fire licking at him once it had burned through his tunics remained. Obi-Wan took a deep breath.

Not good.

That was his final thought before the blackness stole him away once again.

The next time Obi-Wan woke up, his awareness was not much farther behind him. He immediately recognized Anakin’s concerned eyebrows and rumpled clothes and his vision no longer seemed to swim with the after effects of a significant dosage of sedatives.

Before, the pain had been entirely muted, but now Obi-Wan could feel it crawling up his arms and around his torso. While it was not the harsh, sharp pain he knew burns to often have, he knew that his pain medication had been reduced to its minimum.

“Anakin?” He asked through the oxygen mask, which appeared to now be a permanent fixture on his face.

“Hey there Master. A little more awake this time?” Anakin asked with an unconvincing smile matched with weary eyes. His robes looked dirty, covered in what looked like the remnants of dark soot and dirt.

“Slightly… you should change.” He started slowly, nodding at the filthy tunic. His voice sounded gruff, almost like he was years older than he was.

“I haven’t had much time for that, I’ve been too busy babysitting you.” Obi-Wan scoffed at the notion as Anakin chuckled softly. “How is the pain?”

“It could be worse.” Obi-Wan answered and looked down at the bandaging that was strapped across his torso and wrapped around his arms. He couldn’t help but imagine what the scarring would look like once the burns had healed. Obi-Wan could see other little scars littering his chest and down across his waistline; none of them had been there before the war, but now they were a constant reminder.

“Would you like more meds Obi-Wan? I can call Skull–”

“No, Anakin. I can manage.” He meant the words to sound less bitter, but thankfully Anakin did not seem to care.

Obi-Wan attempted to move his arm upward toward his face, wanting to at least take the oxygen mask off for a second. It dug into the skin of his face which was irritating, but he mostly wanted to test his lungs. Before he could even let his arm move from the bed, Anakin had grabbed his fingers and pinned them down.

“Woah there, Master. I think it’s a little too early to be moving around with those on. You only burned yourself a couple of hours ago.”

Hours ago?

Obi-Wan swallowed. There was no way he would be taking off the oxygen mask any time soon if he had gotten the burns just hours earlier. Kriff.

“H-how bad?” He managed to stutter out. He had been attempting to sound slightly sarcastic, but the tone of his voice caused that attempt to fall flat. Anakin’s grimace said everything Obi-Wan needed to know.

“Bad enough you can’t have bacta.” Anakin sighed. The words rang in Obi-Wan’s ears for just a moment before they suddenly made sense. There were very few situations where bacta was left unused. Typically, Obi-Wan did his best to avoid bacta immersion, but he knew how burns felt during their lengthy recovery. It was something he had experienced as a young child, and it was no experience he cared to relive.

“What?” He asked abruptly.

“Your burns are bad– and there is shrapnel severe enough that your skin won’t be able to stitch itself back together in a bacta tank until it can all be removed. Skull says they need time to get all of the pieces of shrapnel out before bacta can even be a thought. Not to mention, most of the bacta is gone; another shipment won’t be in for weeks.”

The words stung.

Obi-Wan felt light-headed; he wasn’t sure if it was the result of the meds wearing off or the shocking words that had just come out of Anakin’s mouth.

Not only would he be separated from his duties for days, possibly weeks , but each and every moment would be painful. Obi-Wan was no stranger to pain, but the news of having to bear through it for more than a fews days sat heavily in his chest.

“Well, at least I’m not dead.” He said dryly, his response bearing none of his usual sarcastic tone; this time, he was genuinely bitter.

“That’s a good thing, Cody would not have been happy. He nearly clocked me with his blaster when I told him he needed to stay out in the field.”

Cody…

Obi-Wan blinked at Anakin. “Is he– did he make it back?”

Anakin responded with a raised eyebrow. “You’re back to caring?” He asked.

“I- I never stopped caring… is he alright?” Obi-Wan asked again as the flesh of his arms began to throb.

The painkillers are wearing off.

“Rex said the 212th is back here on the Negotiator– Cody included. Don’t ask me how I know that.” Anakin snorted before his face turned into something more serious. “I’m glad… don’t do anything like that again. If not for me, do it for Cody.”

Obi-Wan ducked his head and nodded once, “I don’t put myself in danger for no reason, Anakin.”

“I know, Master.” Anakin crouched and looked him in the eye with a soft smile on his lips, “Now, get some rest. Skull spoke with Vokara Che, and that’s it for the strong painkillers; supplies are running short.”

“I will.” Obi-Wan said through his teeth and tried to settle into the sheets despite the deep ache that settled into his bruised and burnt form.

Self-pity set aside, if only for a brief moment as he let himself take a few shuddering breaths to stop the water that pooled in his eyes, Obi-Wan closed his eyes and tried to rest.

Obi-Wan woke to Anakin’s chair left vacant; only a half-filled glass of water and a small book with curled edges left by the bedside indicating the younger Jedi had ever been there. It was a good thing, Obi-Wan thought; Anakin was no longer his Padawan and had no obligation to babysit him, especially when there were other duties that were far more important than a few burns.

For a moment, Obi-Wan considered comming Anakin, maybe even attempting to ask about the state of the situation on Felucia again, but a wave of feverish heat overcame him and swirled his thoughts around in his mind; he could barely imagine attempting to reach out a grab the commlink that sat blinking next to the book Anakin had left behind.

For a moment he sat, unmoving. He could feel the ripples of pain run across his arms and around his torso. It made his head pound and his eyes go blurry, even with just the slightest movement of his fingertips against the sheets.

Obi-Wan blinked a few times and let his unburned hand press over his forehead. Sweat immediately came off of his skin in large drops and he could feel the intense burn of his skin under his touch. Fever, he thought blandly.

Why was he not surprised?

He could feel the fever as it coursed through his veins and caused his body to shiver slightly under the thick bandages that still pressed over his chest and arms. Each wrack of shivers irritated the lightly-medicated wounds, and he gritted his teeth as he attempted to keep them at bay.

Obi-Wan allowed himself to curl into a tight ball under his linens, eyes shutting in some effort to block out the blinking light of his commlink on the bedside table and focused on taking deep breaths as his burns throbbed with pain

Come on Kenobi… in– one, two… out– one, two…

It barely helped, but the shivers eventually quelled to a mild tremble that was far more bearable. Regardless, he laid stock still on his back, attempting to keep the pain from coming back before he had another dose of the strong meds.

Like Skull had explained, bacta running low, and the bits of remaining shrapnel in his raw skin would prevent them from using it to begin with. The wounds were raw, and if new skin grew once bacta was introduced in an attempt to speed up the healing process, it would leave the little pieces of metal buried inside of him. Bacta would have to wait. Obi-Wan silently wished it were not the case; it had been too long since he had to endure the after effects of severe injury for more than a couple of hours and he had forgotten how unbearably brutal the hours of the day became when one was waiting to heal.

There was nothing he could do but wait for things to get better.

His mildly foggy, unrestrained mind began to wander through thoughts of Cody as he laid flat and motionless.

Obi-Wan’s brain conjured up some image of Cody smiling at him from across the mess hall, eyes half-lidded in exhaustion after their most recent battle.

He had looked so beautiful, even with a stripe of dirt staining his cheek and a crooked frown plastered on his lips. He had smiled and came to Obi-Wan’s side with a small box of biscuits he had snagged from the kitchen from one of his batchmates. Obi-Wan had not, absolutely had not, blinked slowly at him as his cheeks filled with a defined red warmth; Cody had brought him a gift, and it had been a thoughtful one. The biscuits were the ones Obi-Wan occasionally had with a cup of black caf or strong tea.

Obi-Wan longed for the Commander like he had once longed for Satine many years before; he was willing to admit that now, at least to himself.

Now that I’ve seen his vulnerable life flash before my eyes.

He wanted Cody to come and knock on his door, to come inside and pull him out from under the covers. He wanted Cody to wrap his strong, muscled arms around his shaking form and spread his warmth over the length of his body. He wanted Cody to brush his hair back from his forehead and place a cool towel over his eyes.

Frankly, it was Obi-Wan’s own fault he longed for such a thing, such an attachment-rife dream that he could never truly experience without some weight of guilt pouring over his shoulders. He watched Anakin silently as he crossed every one of the Jedi boundaries with Padme. He watched with a grimace as they scuttled around secretly and whispered odes of commitment into each others’ ears. Obi-Wan could not admonish himself for his jealousy. Somewhere behind his exterior he held his own longing that was yet to be acted upon, and it was worse. The Jedi would not so easily forgive him for forming an attachment with a clone .

He was slowly beginning to think maybe it was justified to put aside the ideals of the Jedi for just one person. In his feverish haze, he entertained the idea for longer than his healthy self would have ever allowed.

Time passed slowly as he shivered endlessly in his bunk, his limbs shaking where he cradled them against himself. He considered removing himself from his bed, trying to walk off the residual pain and remnants of a feverish headache that pounded behind his eyes, maybe trying to make a cup of scalding tea and put on a fresh set of thick pajama pants. He reconsidered the notion when he attempted to push himself up from where he laid and his arms nearly gave out as he let out a soft whimper.

He bit his lips as he dropped back down onto the bunk. It stretched the unhealed skin of the tender burns.

Fucking kriff it hurt.

Leaving his bed would not quite be justified by a simple cup of tea or even an attempt to walk through the waves of relentless agony.

He took a moment to think, through a cloudy haze of bleary thoughts, and wracked his brain for a more long-term solution. A shower. It came to him suddenly. A cold shower. It was ingenious, he assured himself, though somewhere deep inside his brain reminded him that burns were not so easily resolved by cold water. In his feverish state, somehow, cold water seemed justifiable as a proper antidote to the fire that seemed to have overtaken his form.

He pushed his fatigued legs over the edge of the bed and readied himself for a clumsy move to the refresher. It would be a few, short, agonizing steps.

Clumsy, he was, in the short few steps that lead him to the open refresher door. His legs nearly collapsed underneath his weight as his head produced a particularly angry stab of pain, he gripped at the doorframe and steered himself toward the edge of the shower. Come on Kenobi, just another few steps .

In nearly one smooth motion he managed to turn the shower onto its coldest setting and slip his loose sleep tunic over his head to reveal the crisp, white medbay bandages that set beneath.

He stood with his head leaning against the marble wall of the small medbay fresher, his hands pressed against the wall as he heard the cold water slide down the walls of the shower. Goosebumps that lined his spine and exhaled a small prayer to the Force that he might begin to feel painlessness again.

For one split second, Obi-Wan wished Cody were there with him, to talk some sense into the feverish void, but it seemed the Commander was busy, probably picking up whatever mess had been left on Felucia. Not that I care, he lied to himself. Regardless, he was thankful that he had been left alone to his own pitiful existence.

His sore legs slowly began to shake underneath himself and he slowly sank to the floor of the fresher in some silent act of defeat. He could not hold himself up long enough to consider attempting to make a move toward the running shower.

“Obi-Wan?” Obi-Wan heard a panicked voice yell through the thin metal door and over the pounding of the water against the walls of the shower and his own skin. His stomach rolled first at the mere volume of the voice as it rang through the metal door, and second upon the realization that the voice belonged to Cody , of all people. Cody was going to see him in such a… state .

He let out a breath and shivered again.

He glanced down at himself, noticing for the first time that he was completely and utterly nude. Somewhere in his haze, he had stripped the loose hospital pants from his legs revealing the bandages that crawled around his left thigh and right calf. Now, he was left sitting against the wall of the fresher, bandages the only barrier between his skin and Cody’s eyes.

“Obi-Wan?” Cody’s voice sounded panicked on the other side of the closed fresher door, and Obi-Wan swallowed.

Not good, not good…

He could hear the door open, there was no stopping the inevitable. “Obi-Wan!” Cody gasped and Obi-Wan could not bear to open his eyes, not even a crack, to see the look that would have overtaken the Commander’s features. “Oh for Forcesake! Skull, get in here!” Obi-Wan cringed at how loud Cody’s voice sounded in his ears.

Against his own will, he let out some sort of whimper, and suddenly there was a hand pressing at his forehead and cheeks.

“Hey, hey… Obi-Wan, are you alright? What are you doing in here? Please tell me you did not get in that shower.” Obi-Wan risked blinking open an eye and was met with the blurry image of Cody’s face hovering above his own.

“Was hot…” He mumbled in a weak attempt to explain the initial reason he had entered the fresher to begin with. “I don’t feel good.” He tried to elaborate, his awareness getting slightly stronger as he looked down at the state of his exposed form. In some last ditch attempt to protect his modesty and honor, he pressed his hands over his groin and averted his gaze from Cody.

Before he knew it, Cody had pressed a towel across his lap and had gently rearranged his arms so they were not limply pressed against the tiled floor. “I think you have a fever, General. I bet those burns hurt as well.” Obi-Wan tried to ignore the formality of the word General, and he only nodded and exhaled as another figure came into view: Skull.

Obi-Wan could feel his frustration radiating through the Force before he had even stepped into the tiny room.

“C’mon General, let’s get you back in bed.” One of them said, Obi-Wan was too exhausted to attempt to figure out who.

Perhaps he limped, or maybe he was carried, but somehow he ended up back on the thin medbay bed where he had been before. Nothing had changed, except for the acute sense of embarrassment he felt as the thin medical pants were dragged up his legs by Skull and Cody. Instead of an oxygen mask, Skull secured a nasal cannula and peeled back the bandages back to check over the burns. Obi-Wan attempted to stifle the small whimpers that resulted from the tugs at his sensitive flesh, but Skull seemed to notice.

“In pain, Sir?” He asked.

“Mmmm…” Was the only thing Obi-Wan could manage and he nodded his head down once.

“You’re running a nasty fever as well. I will increase the anti-inflammatory meds and the sedatives for now, alright General?” Skull asked like Obi-Wan was in any state to try and make a decision about it himself. Obi-Wan just nodded, perhaps a little too quickly, and turned his eyes toward the concerned face of his Commander who hovered nervously on the other side of the bunk.

“M’ sorry.” Obi-Wan said, already attempting to forget that Cody had found him naked on the floor of the refresher.

“Obi-Wan… no need to worry… just– just sleep for now. I’ll be here when you wake up.”

I’ll be here when you wake up.

Obi-Wan hoped that would actually ring true. Obi-Wan offered up a half-smile and pressed his unburned hand toward Cody. He twitched his fingers and watched as Cody tentatively brought a hand from his side to rest on top of Obi-Wan’s trembling fingers.

Obi-Wan felt sparks in his stomach as their fingers brushed together, a new warmth pooling in his chest as he watched Cody’s eyes soften.

Before he could clasp his hand over Cody’s, the warmth of the Commander’s fingers slipped away from his. There was a look in Cody’s eyes, something like longing that quickly turned to disappointment.

Obi-Wan wanted to ask about it, but something stopped him. Instead, he intertwined his own fingers and tried to shake away the lingering feel of warmth against his skin.

Cody had brought Obi-Wan a basket of teas that had been imported from Naboo; it was always his favorite type. Though Cody was not much of a tea drinker himself, he always seemed to be intuitive enough to bring Obi-Wan new teas he had never tried; they were always good.

Cody had done what he always did and stripped off his outer layer of armor down to his blacks before washing his face in Obi-Wan’s sink and sounding off about what another Shiny had done earlier that day. Obi-wan loved to hear him talk about anything, the drawl of his voice was a soothing sound in the midst of constant talk about battle and war and ravaged towns. Sometimes, Cody did not want to talk about anything at all.

In his blacks, Cody had pressed himself into the sofa where Obi-Wan sat reclined against the shoulder of it. Cody lifted up Obi-Wan’s legs and slid himself underneath them so they rested in his lap.

Obi-Wan tried to smile at him, but the smile fell flat, and he knew that Cody could see it.

“What’s wrong? What happened?” Cody cupped Obi-Wan’s knee, eyes piercing with concern.

Obi-Wan had swallowed and braced himself for his own words.

“Cody… we can’t– I can’t do this…”

“Do what? The war?” Obi-Wan wished he could say yes, but it was not the truth.

“No, not the war. I can’t– I cannot be with you, not yet.” It hurt to let his imprisoned thought run free for the first time in weeks.

At a Council meeting, weeks before, he had been called a great Jedi, a leader by example to the Jedi Knights like Anakin. Before, he had once considered it his duty to be the perfect rendition of what a Jedi was supposed to be. He had always worn the right color tunics and practiced his katas until he had maintained perfect form, no matter how long it took.

Obi-Wan supposed his deep desire to strive for mastery and perfection was a result of… well Qui-Gon. His Master had been so frivolous with Force on some occasions and he often not only violated the Jedi code, but essentially tore the sacred documents to shreds with the words that spewed from his mouth.

Obi-Wan had worked so hard, and he loved Qui-Gon, but he wanted to be a different Jedi than his Master had been, a more disciplined one.

Now, that ever-practiced discipline was only a facade; Obi-Wan had violated one of those few golden standards for the Jedi. What kind of example was he setting for his impulsive former Padawan who seemed to sneak away at all hours of the night to meet with Padmé?

Even if somewhere inside of him, the ache to fulfill his duties to the Order were strong, it was not the only reason he couldn’t be with Cody.

Love was pain, and war would only increase the cost if it was entangled with it. Obi-Wan knew that now.

So, he had to postpone the one thing that set all the nerves in his body on fire and made his heart ache so heavily; he could not be with Cody, not until the War was over and his duties to the Jedi had been diminished.

“Obi-Wan we’ve— have we not discussed this? I thought–” Cody’s mildly desperate, yet sharp voice cut through his thoughts.

“I know what we discussed before, but I have had more time to think about it now.”

“And now? This is what you think? We should just– how can–” Cody shut his mouth, not finishing his sentence. Obi-Wan placed his trembling hand on Cody’s shoulder where he could feel it shake under his touch.

“Cody… I said we couldn’t be together yet… This separation is not permanent, but it’s for the best. I have committed myself to the Jedi, and I cannot let it affect how I respond to this War for that reason.”

There was a drawn pause lasting a minute before Cody looked up, eyes solemn and his face twisted into an unsettling frown.

“We have no idea when the War will be over Obi-Wan.”

“I know… will you wait for me regardless?”

“I don’t know, Obi-Wan… I don’t want to wait.”

“Wait for me. Until after the war, until the dust settles. Then– we can have everything we want Cody…anything. ”

The words hung in the air like a cloud of lingering smoke.

Days later, Obi-Wan was to be allowed to leave the medbay, that was, under the close supervision of his Commander. Skull had been reluctant at first, but Cody had come to Obi-Wan’s rescue, which in the General’s view, was unusual.

Not even days before, they had not been speaking at all.

But like Anakin had insisted, it was clear that Cody still cared; at least, he cared enough to bring Obi-Wan back to his quarters and let him have a moment of peace.

Obi-Wan did his best not to read into it; Cody was being kind, as he always was.

Obi-Wan’s limbs were heavy and his head felt the same; perhaps like it was full of cotton.

Cody had busied himself with collecting medication from the healers and wrapping up the singed remains of Obi-Wan’s tattered robe. Obi-Wan did not want to admit it to himself, but he was exhausted, completely drained of the energy he had felt the day before when the last of the painkillers had still been working full-force.

Now– now he was left with drooping eyelids and a low burn that constantly, brutally, crawled up his arms and across his stomach. It was bearable, but just barely; if it kept going for weeks, he figured it was just bad enough to drive him mad.

“Ready?” Cody asked gently as he shoved Obi-Wan’s dirty boots into his pack. He offered Obi-Wan a smile, one that Obi-Wan could not return even if he tried. Obi-Wan ignored the low ache in every bone of his body and nodded. While the burns were sharp, the bruises that lined his back and legs added another layer of dull throbbing. Nothing to be done about that, he thought bitterly.

“Shall we?” He said, sitting up and letting the white medbay sheets pool at his waist. Cody pulled the covers off of Obi-Wan, and the Jedi did not miss the lingering gaze on the fresh bandages that lined his chest and stomach. Obi-Wan shivered as Cody offered him a shirt and helped him maneuver his arms into the holes of the brown long sleeves.

Obi-Wan gripped the edge of the bed, knuckles white and slid the side. Cody waited with pursed lips and a pair of loose tan pants in hand. Obi-Wan let him help– again , and balanced himself against Cody’s shoulder as his Commander rucked the pants up his leg.

“On we go.” Obi-Wan murmured as he motioned toward the door.

With his first few steps, Obi-Wan stumbled, the wounds on his chest protesting as he bent at the waist to catch himself. Before Obi-Wan knew it was happening, Cody had steadied him, strong hand wrapping around the unburnt portion of his bicep.

Obi-Wan commanded himself to breathe. In– out. In– out.

“Are you sure you can walk? I can get a powerchair if you–”

“I’m fine– let’s just… keep going.” Obi-Wan hadn’t meant to cut him off, and hadn’t meant his words to sound so sharp, but an eruption of red-hot pain had only just worn off and muted into a relentless radiating pulse.

“At least lean on me.” Cody offered, eyes soft and empathetic.

Obi-Wan only nodded, and swallowed once as he let Cody’s arm curl around his side.

The walk felt long, longer than it normally felt when he wasn’t so tired and drained.

Neither of them spoke often, unless it was Cody asking if Obi-Wan needed a break. The truth was, Obi-Wan had needed a break on several occasions, but he preferred not to prolong the walk if he did not have to. Something inside of him longed for his own space, his own food, and a hot cup of black caf or tea to keep the exhaustion at bay.

His craving for his own space was only part of the problem, however. There were too many things he wanted to say, so many words he wanted to take back , but every time he worked up the courage to say them, his mouth clamped shut and he just, well, couldn’t .

He could barely even bring himself to meet Cody’s eyes, so instead, he kept his mouth shut and eyes trained on the scuffs that littered the hallway’s floor.

As they arrived at Obi-Wan’s quarters, Cody punched in the code of the door without hesitation and the door slid open.

Obi-Wan looked up from where his head hung slightly and took in the small apartment before him. While normally Obi-Wan kept his quarters fairly neat, he was not there enough to make a habit of it and he knew he had left it in a rather disorderly manner before he had left for Felucia. Now, it looked immaculate and tidied to the degree only a soldier could achieve.

Beyond tidy, it was cozy.

His normally bare sofa had suddenly acquired two gray pillows and a couple of soft, fuzzy throws he had never seen before. His plants looked watered and healthier than he knew he had left them, and his eyes were drawn to the pile of fresh tea that was sorted into little containers on the table. It warmed his heart and made his cheeks flush as he felt a gentle smile directed his way from Cody.

All of this for the man who asked you to wait?

“I’m assuming this was you, Cody?” He asked, attempting to sound less guilty than he felt. Obi-Wan turned his head to see Cody's cheeks were flushed as well.

“Just doing my duty, Sir.” Obi-Wan tried not to flinch at the formality, and shook off Cody’s arm as he muttered his thanks and headed toward the kitchen. Cody had done enough, and Obi-Wan was hungry for the first time in days, especially since the fever had broken. Despite the dull ache that had yet to be affected by the dose of low-level painkillers, Obi-Wan figured a bit of hot food would keep him in check as he started on the paperwork that he knew had probably been starting to stack up.

Fingers dragging across the spines of the cookbooks on the shelf, Obi-Wan heard a sigh come from behind him, certainly one he was not supposed to hear. Obi-Wan tilted his head just enough to see Cody finish shaking his head.

“Problem?” He asked as he plucked the old, worn cookbook he had stolen from Qui-Gon’s quarters in the temple after his passing.

“You’re just– you are not healed Obi-Wan. Blast– you had a fever not even a day ago!” Cody looked possibly more stressed out than Obi-Wan thought he should be, the lines of his forehead creased and his arms crossed tightly across his chest. “Plus,” Cody continued, voice gruff and eyes slanted, “You are lucky you were even discharged– I promised Skull I would keep you off your feet.”

Obi-Wan dropped the cookbook onto the counter and traced his fingers over the edges of the faded cover. “I’m– I just wanted a hot meal… and you look like you could use one too– as a thank you, that is.” The Commander had done enough, pulling from the fresher floor in his feverish haze and cleaning up his quarters and being ever so–

“ Please. Just sit down, I can do that.”

Obi-Wan could see it written on Cody’s face– that look of frustration, like he wanted to say something more than he already had. Obi-Wan knew from past experience what Cody was thinking; he was wishing that Obi-Wan would slow down and rest, but rest would never keep Obi-Wan’s mind from stirring over everything that he had put Cody through, and all the things he still wanted to stay.

The thing was, it felt wrong that Cody was there, watching him with soft eyes and sitting by his side for days. Hells, Cody had even kept his quarters clean and organized for him. It pulled at Obi-Wan’s conscience.

“Cody, I’m perfectly capable of making us something light to eat; you have already done more than enough.”

“It was nothing more than you already did for me, Obi-Wan.”

Obi-Wan hated that at that exact moment his legs started to give out. He gripped the counter, attempting to balance himself without Cody noticing him falter, but the Commander was too intuitive and had already rushed to Obi-Wan’s side before he had a chance to protest.

“I’ll sit. Just for a few minutes.” Obi-Wan murmured, seeing no other way to respond, while Cody threw him a very pointed look and led him to the sofa. Obi-Wan sat gingerly, the burns around his stomach stinging as he bent at the waist.

Guilt crept into the pit of his chest and he watched Cody’s worried face as he pressed a pillow behind Obi-Wan’s head and gently laid the throw over his thighs. He wanted to protest, wanted to tell Cody how unnecessary it was to dote on him and cover him in a kriffing blanket . Yet, Obi-Wan knew he would do the same for Cody, he had in the past.

How many times had Cody come to him with scrapes on his back that he could not reach, or a headache that pulsated behind his eyes? Would Obi-Wan ever turn him away? The answer would always be no; it was no then, and it was no now, even if everything had changed.

“I’ll get you some water– and tea. Don’t fucking move. ” Obi-Wan could not help but listen. Cody didn’t swear as often as some of the other men, but when he did, Obi-Wan knew it usually meant he was serious.

Listening to the order, whether intentionally or not, Obi-Wan let himself sink into the back of the sofa, his full body-weight relaxed into the cushions. The truth was– he was exhausted. Whatever energy he had been discreetly pulling from the Force minutes earlier had vanished entirely and he was left with a bone-deep need to just sit .

Obi-Wan stared forward at the wall on the opposite side of the room, mind spinning as his eyes bore into the blank canvas in front of him. In that moment, thoughts of Satine came flooding back. The way she used to take care of him– just the way Cody did now. On many occasions, she had brought him hot tea and carded her slim fingers through his hair when he felt ill. The thought made him feel another pang of sadness burn deep in his chest.

Watching Cody get so close, within inches of meeting the same fate, had rattled Obi-Wan to his core. How many more people he loved would have to die before he had no one left to go to, nothing left to live for? The thought, much to his displeasure, scared him as it crossed his mind.

“Still two sugars?” Cody asked from behind and Obi-Wan could feel him hovering just to the side of the sofa.

“Still two.” Cody made a noise of approval and shuffled back to the kitchen. Obi-Wan heard pots rattling and drawers opening and closing. He realized, too late probably, that Cody had taken to cooking dinner, regardless of Obi-Wan’s intentions. Much to his own annoyance, Obi-Wan felt too tired to even attempt a word of protest.

“You know– I don’t think I have ever seen the 212th so worried.” Cody said, “You didn’t look good.”

“Sorry to disappoint.” Obi-Wan threw back, hoping he would at least bring a smile to Cody’s face with the joke.

“Too soon, Obi-Wan.” It sounded like banter, but Cody’s words held some sort of weight behind them. Cody’s voice moved closer to the sofa as he spoke. Obi-Wan had just nearly blinked and there, in front of him with a tray of tea and soup, Cody stood.

He set the tray on the coffee table before picking up the cup of tea and sitting next to Obi-Wan with it in hand.

“Thank you.” Obi-Wan murmured as Cody placed the tea into the Jedi’s awaiting hands. Though Obi-Wan held onto it with both hands, they were shaky with the after-effects of fever and pain medication.

They sat in comfortable silence as Obi-Wan sipped gingerly at the tea and even ate a few spoonfuls of the hastily made soup.

It reminded Obi-Wan of a time, not so long before everything had fallen apart, that he had made Cody a lousy bowl soup and a watery cup of caf as the Commander had nearly shivered to death in his makeshift bunk by the fire.

There had only been three small tents available in the emergency pack, and Cody and Obi-Wan had sent each other meaningful looks as soon as some of the shinys attempted to volunteer themselves to sleep outside.

Cody, the Commander he was, sure as hell wasn’t about to let his most vulnerable men shiver in the cold while he was shielded from the wind in the comfort of a tent. Obi-Wan and Cody had, for that reason, ended up alone by the fire with one foam pad to share and a couple of thin linen blankets.

While the Force was usually enough for Obi-Wan to his temperature regulated, Cody had begun to shiver after just a few minutes of sitting idly by the smoking coals of the windblown fire.

They had shared a moment of silence, just the same as they did now, as Obi-Wan held out a bowl of soup to Cody and watched as his hand shook as the breeze blew against the exposed skin of his neck.

Back when things had been… easier; more clearly defined.

Obi-Wan drained his tea and had managed to eat half the bowl of soup before he sunk back into the cushions, eyes watering as the unhealed skin pulled. He resisted the urge to complain or let out an exasperated moan; it would only make Cody worry more than he already was.

Cody’s eyes were on him constantly from where he sat to the left of Obi-Wan. His gaze was unending, always present; Obi-Wan felt small under it. It felt like Cody was expecting him to say something, so Obi-Wan did.

“I’m sorry, Cody.” He murmured. Cody raised an eyebrow.

“I never asked for an apology.” Cody responded evenly.

“You deserve one regardless.” Obi-Wan said, voice breathy as a stab of pain coursed through his side. He winced and Cody noticed. His eyes became soft and he opened his mouth to say something, but Obi-Wan cut him off, “I’m fine… just a twinge.”

Cody shook his head and sighed.

They were caught in an unsustainable silence, one that would have to be broken one way or another, and Obi-Wan knew that he was the one who would have to do it. Obi-Wan swallowed down the lingering feeling of emotional strain and pursed his lips.

“I had to do it, you know.” He said quietly, hoping Cody’s response would mirror the forced calmness Obi-Wan had taken to wearing as a mask. Cody let out one metered breath, eyes dragging over the floor of the apartment and lips curling into a frown.

“Did you?” He asked, voice strained.

“I did what needed to be done– it is my duty. ”

That’s all you care about Obi-Wan.

Obi-Wan could already hear the words emerging from Cody’s lips. He was too tired for that old accusation.

Instead–

“You shouldn’t have done that .” Cody said eventually, his voice cracking unnaturally under the weight of the words, “There was no reason to do that , Obi-Wan.” Cody’s words were sharp, and pointed, and just enough to make Obi-Wan’s pulse rise.

What had Cody expected? Had he wanted to be left to die. Obi-Wan had never taken his Jedi training and access to the Force for granted; what was the use of it if he never had to be exposed to danger?

“Am I missing something? Was there another choice, Cody? You were about to die .” Obi-Wan swallowed back tears as the prospect of Cody dying crossed his mind once more. Emotions were running high, he hadn’t felt relaxed in days and more turmoil was not helping things in the slightest.

The pot of water was boiling over, and there was so very little he could do to stop it.

“That’s my job.” Cody but back under his breath, “ I’m not– we’re not– It doesn’t matter… you’re a High General, and I am a clone. You had a choice, and you made the wrong one. ”

That made Obi-Wan’s blood boil and also forced his heart to sink even lower into his stomach. He felt sick. He tried to blink back the tears that he had somehow allowed to pool in his eyes.

I must be really exhausted, he thought as he pressed shaking fingers against the corner of his eyes to get rid of the tears before they threatened to leak down his cheeks. It was one thing to cry in a feverish haze, and another to cry when he was self-aware. He turned his face in an attempt to keep Cody’s gaze away from his face.

“I’m–” Cody pressed a gentle hand against Obi-Wan’s back, “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have raised my voice.”

He noticed, kriff.

“It wasn’t that…” Obi-Wan murmured, because it was true, a raised voice was never the problem, it was Cody’s lack of self-worth that bothered him.

“Oh…” Cody sounded like he wasn’t sure what to say next, like the words were caught in his throat. He lifted his hand away from Obi-Wan’s back, probably thinking his touch had lingered too long.

Obi-Wan pressed away the last of the leaking tears with the back of his hand the best he could and turned back toward Cody hoping he would work up the courage to say what he needed to say.

He took a deep breath and shook his head.

Another tear leaked out of his eye, and before he could reach to wipe it away, Cody’s hand was already reaching toward his face, the pad of his thumb gently wiping away the tear that had leaked down the side of his cheek.

The look in Cody’s eye might have been desperation, or possibly longing, but Obi-Wan knew at the very least he was waiting for something, anything , to be said.

“Cody…” Obi-Wan started, his trembling voice trailing off as he attempted to collect the jumbled thoughts that precariously swam through his mind, “I–I lost Satine.” His voice cracked as he said her name and his heart shattered again, just the same as it had ever since that horrible day.

Cody’s widened eyes and ajar mouth said enough. “When– h-how?” He stuttered out, eyes suddenly becoming soft, “ I am so sorry , Obi-Wan.”

He meant the words, the empathy flowing through them naturally.

“I loved her when I was young.” Obi-Wan’s voice remained shaky, the tears again dripping from the corners of his eyes. “I loved her my whole life, in some capacity; and I couldn’t protect her. It was my fault. ” He had barely even allowed himself to think about those words. It had truly been him to cause her death. Perhaps it was his negligence, or maybe it was his failure to be as strong as he considered himself to be–

“No– no, Obi-Wan , it wasn’t your fault. What happened?” Cody hand pressed over Obi-Wan’s once more and his voice was shaky and small.

“It was Maul… but I should have seen it coming, I should have tried harder .”

“Obi-Wan…” Cody looked like he wanted to elaborate, but he shut his mouth and continued to trace the pad of his thumb over the palm of his hand.

“And then you came too close to the same fate.” Obi-Wan trained his eyes on a loose piece of stitching on the couch and swallowed the lump that had formed in his throat. “I don’t want– I cannot bear to lose you like I lost her.”

Cody pressed a finger underneath his chin and forced his eyes upward. “You won’t lose me.” The words cut through the air with so much clarity that it made Obi-Wan’s heart beat loudly in his chest, “If I have anything to do with it, you won’t lose me. I will stick around, I will wait. ”

The words echoed thousands of times in Obi-Wan’s head, screaming at him to say something, anything , in response.

Instead, he pulled forward from where he was tucked into the sofa and pressed himself into Cody’s arms.

His burns hurt, but Obi-Wan didn’t care.

It hurt more not being in Cody’s embrace.

He wanted Cody in his arms, no matter what the cost was. It felt like home, his own chest pressed against Cody’s. Obi-Wan breathed into his neck, nose brushing against the warm skin and ticklish hair. Cody let out a shuddering breath as his hand pressed against the base of Obi-Wan’s neck.

No words were exchanged for several moments, but more needed to be said.

Obi-Wan’s heartbeat rattled in his chest and he sucked in a breath before he whispered the words he had been holding on to so tightly for days .

“ I don’t want to wait – not anymore. I can’t– I don’t want to lose you the way I lost her. Life is not permanent, and I want to spend whatever I have left with you .” Obi-Wan felt Cody stop breathing for a moment.

Cody pulled Obi-Wan away from his chest and looked Obi-Wan right in the eye.

“Obi-Wan…” Cody was teary now, his brown eyes wet and full of something intangible, unreadable. For a moment, Obi-Wan held his own breath. “Are you sure?” Cody’s voice was so quiet– more fragile than Obi-Wan had ever heard it before.

Obi-Wan nodded, almost violently, and pressed his shaking hand against Cody’s jaw. “Yes– I can’t wait. ”

Relief, from both of them combined, filled the space between them. They had orbited around each other for too long, their eyes had lingered too long, their parallel strides had become too comfortable of a rhythm– but now? Now, they were one .

They stayed that way until Obi-Wan’s burns began to throb and what little energy he had been running on suddenly began to slip away. Cody seemed to notice his sagging form and gently pulled him away.

“Hey, how about you lay down, you were supposed to rest.” Cody pressed Obi-Wan’s hair behind his ears and off of his forehead before pressing a soft kiss to his cheekbone and jawline.

Obi-Wan felt a warmth, one he had been trying to ignore for so long, as he let Cody’s lips trail over his skin. He felt his eyes closing and nodded softly. “I don’t want to get up.” He said, the thought of having to pull his aching body from its place on the sofa made him feel slightly nauseous.

“You don’t have to get up. Here–” He took the pillow from the side of the sofa and settled it into his lap while he patted the top of it, “Just lay down right here.”

Obi-Wan normally would have protested, maybe even insisted that he didn’t want to make Cody uncomfortable, but this time it felt right.

Without an ounce of hesitation, he curled onto his less burned side, face pressing into the pillow and eyes drifting closed as Cody pressed his fingertips into his untamed hair. It felt nice to lay down, without having any commitment to a time he needed to wake up.

It felt even nicer to be beside the man he loved, with no words left unsaid.

Obi-Wan allowed himself to drift, focusing solely on the feeling of Cody’s hand trailing through his hair. There was something so relentlessly soothing about surrendering everything and resting one's head in someone's lap.

Ripples of fondness flowed through Obi-Wan's chest as he heard Cody bid him good rest.

Weeks earlier, Cody imagined he would never feel Obi-Wan’s sandy, soft hair under the pads of his fingertips again.

Sure, the war could end, but the likelihood of him surviving its demise was very slim. For some reason, he could not shake the feeling that clones would not be met with warm embraces once their duties had been filled. Cody had swallowed the thoughts down in some attempt to keep himself sane and motivated.

Now, what had seemed impossible, had become his reality.

He carded his fingers through auburn locks under his fingertips before tracing his fingers across the gentle curve of Obi-Wan’s jaw. His beard was slightly longer than he usually kept it and his hair was in disarray compared to its usual organized look.

Mostly, he looked peaceful. His eyes were no longer clenched shut, but rather his eyelashes fluttered against the tops of his cheeks. Obi-Wan’s lips were just parted enough that little breaths puffed out of his mouth.

Cody watched him, possibly for longer than he should have, but there were so few moments like this – calm and quiet – that he felt compelled to soak in what little time that had left to share before the demands of the war caught up to them.

The words Obi-Wan said earlier echoed back to him.

I don’t want to wait– not anymore.

Cody knew that Obi-Wan had never wanted to wait, but like with most things, he felt as though he owed somebody something. That was Obi-Wan– a self-sacrificing idiot at worst, and loyal war General at best.

With a smile, Cody watched Obi-Wan’s eyelashes flutter in his sleep and slowly untangled his hand from the General’s hair.

With everything on the table, nothing left to be talked about, and the tension all but dissolved, Cody could feel the waves of relief crashing over him like the waves of the ocean surrounding Kamino.

Sure, the worries of the war would never quite disappear, but he could not quite bring himself to care about battle tactics when the scruffy face of his General was nuzzled into a pillow on his lap.

So kriffing endearing.

Attempting to keep his torso as still as possible, Cody reached for his datapad on the side table and opened up a fresh tab meant for note-taking. He stared at the cursor on the screen for several moments, but inspiration came quickly.

With practiced fingers swiping over the screen, Cody wrote.

To Obi-Wan Kenobi…

Effortlessly, he wrote a letter to Obi-Wan, one for after the war had passed and their lives had been altered beyond belief. He wrote about what he imagined their life would be, and about the moments, good and bad , that they had shared.

Mostly, he wrote about Obi-Wan’s ocean eyes and auburn hair and the feel of his skin underneath the tips of his fingers.

With a smile on his face, Cody trailed one thumb across the coarse hair on Obi-Wan’s jawline as he read the words back to himself.

Love, Cody

Anakin had shown his face again in the Medbay only to find that Obi-Wan had been released to Cody’s care. It was expected, given that Obi-Wan had asked for him multiple times in a feverish haze, his unrestrained mind allowing him to voice the thoughts he never would have if he had been feeling himself.

Better Cody than me. Anakin snorted at the thought as he left the Medbay and began the journey to Obi-Wan’s quarters. Anakin figured if Obi-Wan had been released to his care, the two of them would have been fed up with each other before an hour had passed.

Of course, Anakin would have probably provoked him by insisting on feeding him little spoonfuls of soup and pretending the spoon was an X-wing.

Anakin turned the corner to Obi-Wan’s hall and decided against knocking, instead, punching in the nine-digit code to Obi-Wan’s door that he knew so well. The door slid open to reveal that Obi-Wan’s bed was neatly made and the lights were dim throughout the apartment. Everything looked organized and fresh and certainly more homey than Obi-Wan ever cared to keep his space. Usually, Obi-Wan’s dishes were mechanically stacked away in his cupboards and not a single stray magazine or mug could be seen. Instead, the table was set and there were little pieces of evidence that confirmed that someone did, in fact, live in the apartment.

Admittedly, Anakin was confused. He had expected to find Obi-Wan curled up in bed and Cody in the kitchen probably fiddling with Obi-Wan’s tea selection or arranging him his meals. Cody had always been the proactive type, prone to organization and order the same way Obi-Wan enjoyed to live.

Instead, the kitchen was empty. Curiosity brewing and the sensation of worry starting to creep into his mind, Anakin furrowed his brow and stepped further into the apartment, hand pressing over the handle of the door of the living area.

“Obi-Wan?” He called as he opened the door.

Anakin was not sure what exactly he had expected, but the image in front of him was certainly a surprise.

Before his eyes, Obi-Wan laid on the sofa, bandages wrapped tightly around the singed flesh of his chest and stomach peaking out from under his shirt. His arms, which Anakin had seen two days before, were more neatly bandaged and were splayed out in front of him. His head, mostly free of damage from the fire, was resting comfortably atop a pillow which was, much to Anakin’s shock, perched directly in none-other-than Commander Cody’s lap.

Cody looked up, clearly startled, from the glowing datapad that was balanced in his lap and before Anakin could even consider opening his mouth to say something, the Commander pressed a finger up against his lips to shush him. Obi-Wan’s eyes were closed, little puffs of air escaping through his lips.

It warmed his heart to see the man who raised him in the arms of someone he truly loved, finally. Obi-Wan had spent so long worrying about his honor, concerning himself with the intricacies of the Jedi code and the legality of his own natural feelings. But now? Now, he was just a man, asleep in the arms of the person he deserved to feel something for.

Anakin smiled softly at Cody as he dropped his hand into his lap and set the datapad down on the table beside the sofa.

Cody’s voice was barely a whisper, “What are you doing here?”

The words were not accusatory, rather, they were curious.

“I figured you had taken him back here; he mentioned you a few times when he was… delirious.” The statement brought the slightest pink to Cody’s cheeks. “I’m glad to see he’s resting, that’s a rare sight.” Anakin motioned to Obi-Wan who slept on. His face, much to Anakin’s relief, seemed to have a bit more color.

“It is.” Cody agreed, “Listen we’re not–”

“You don’t have to explain. I already know.” Cody blinked at him. “Obi-Wan had many secrets, but I confronted him months ago when I found both of you asleep in his bed… but that's a story for another time.” If Cody’s cheeks had been pink before, they were red now; even the tops of his ears had gained a bit of color.

“You’ve known for how long?” Cody whispered, hand finding its way into Obi-Wan’s untamed hair.

“Long enough to know that he loves you. He never did stop loving you.” Anakin did not care if Obi-Wan chastised him later for saying it, it needed to be said.

“I know he does…” Cody said with just a tinge of shakiness in his tone; his eyes looked glassy, “He doesn’t want to wait anymore.”

Anakin already knew that, and had already predicted it. “He never did want to.”

The gentlest of smiles crossed Cody’s face, this time making it all the way up to his eyes, something quite rare for the usually stoic Marshal Commander. Anakin wanted to say something more, to tell Cody all the things that he knew Obi-Wan felt for him, but he kept his words short.

“My Master was always one to hold his cards close; I hope that will change.” He smiled softly, watching as Cody did the same.

“I think it already has.” Cody responded just above a whisper.

Anakin could not have agreed more.

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