Chapter Text
Fives comes to screaming.
Cody gets the call while he's in Obi-Wan's quarters, sipping a cup of caf that will soon grow cold under an absence of attention after being quickly forgotten in favor of this. Obi-Wan watches over his shoulder as the image of Master Vokara Che, the Temple’s Chief Jedi Healer, appears in his handheld holoprojector to explain Fives’s current condition with short, sharp words. The Council had come to an agreement a month ago, when they’d first secreted him away to the Temple after he’d been pronounced dead at the scene in that warehouse on the lower levels. The collective decision had been that, upon waking from his long healing trance, the first people that should be brought to Fives’s bedside were Anakin and Rex. People he would trust. Will hopefully still trust, even after everything that had happened.
Except, as Obi-Wan is well aware, Anakin and Rex, along with a select number of the 501st, are off-world. On some kind of mission that’s apparently so confidential that even Obi-Wan hasn’t been told anything about it – not even so much as who sent them out in the first place. The kind of mission that means no outside contact except in the most dire case of emergency.
So – Vokara explains as Obi-Wan watches the conversation unfold over Cody’s shoulder – Fives had insisted on getting in touch with Cody instead. And, apparently, he’s not taking no for an answer.
Cody remains stoic the entire time, every bit the Marshall Commander as he absorbs Master Che’s every word with rapt attention. Still, Obi-Wan sees the way he stiffens, shoulders going so subtly rigid that the change is nearly unnoticeable. Or it might be, for someone who was less well-accustomed to looking for it. It’s clear to Obi-Wan, though, that learning about Fives’s request to speak to him has thrown him.
With a last assurance that he’ll be there as soon as he can, unflinching even in the face of Che’s unyielding violet stare, Cody ends the transmission. As soon as the Jedi Healer’s holo image disappears, his head falls into his hands. Obi-Wan’s hand finds his shoulder before he’s even aware he’s reaching forward.
Cody looks up at him, offering a tight-lipped smile and a wordless nod. Obi-Wan thinks he understands, at least partly. When they’d sat down in his quarters in the temple with a plate of fruit and a pile of datapads between them, this is by far the last thing he would have expected to find interrupting them. He himself isn’t exactly unaffected by learning about Fives’s sudden change in condition. And it’s not even his brother’s life on the line.
“I’d like to come with you,” he says, voice steady and quiet in the stillness of the air around them. For Cody’s sake, yes – this isn’t something he’d ever want his Commander to do alone – but also to sate his own need for answers. For the last month, since– since Tup, there’s been something itching in the back of his mind nonstop. A sense that, somehow, something about the whole situation was wrong. Is still wrong. But no amount of meditation has led him to any further insight. Whatever the answers may be, they’re clouded in the Force in a way things have never been for him.
“There’s no one else I’d rather have with me, sir,” Cody says, and Obi-Wan hadn’t realized just how tightly his chest had knotted itself together until the tension fades with the words.
There’s a lighter retort on the tip of his tongue, one that’s closer to his usual attempts at diversion, but he can feel the corners of his eyes going soft even before he says, “Thank you, Cody.”
Cody only nods his response, standing abruptly to grab his helmet from where he’d left it in its usual spot atop Obi-Wan’s dresser. Obi-Wan watches as he checks his blaster, wondering how much of his calculating gaze is conscious versus habit. He’s not expecting a trip to the Halls of Healing to end in bloodshed, and he can’t imagine Cody really is either. But then again, he doesn’t know what to expect.
His fingers drift to brush over the lightsaber at his belt, and he follows Cody out the door.
“He’s– It didn’t sound good,” Cody says with a casual tone that does nothing to cover the anxiety shifting around him in the Force.
“Master Che is not known to sugarcoat things,” Obi-Wan says, latching onto his signature and pulsing small waves of comfort back towards his Commander. “Which does mean that, in many cases, the things she says sound worse than they are.” He prays this is one of those cases. “What’s important is that he’s awake.”
“I– Yes, sir,” Cody says softly. There’s a moment of hesitation, but then he swallows and whatever his next words might have been disappear with it. It’s silent between them the rest of the way to the Halls of Healing.
Stern-faced as always, Master Che leads them to the farthest corner of the chambers located off the Main Hall, into one of the single-person rooms there. The adjacency to the main operating theater, along with the extra privacy, means it is one of the ones that tends to be reserved for only the most severely injured – the kind of space within the Halls that Obi-Wan is, unfortunately, all-too-familiar with. No one outside of the Council and their Chief Healer even knows that Fives is here. No one except, well– Obi-Wan’s eyes flicker to where Cody stands at attention where he’s been stopped just in front of the door to Fives’s room. With his helmet tucked under his arm and his eyes trained strictly forward, his gaze remains trained straight ahead, unflinching in the face of Master Che – a not insignificant feat.
“Is it accurate of me to assume your lack of surprise at receiving my call means you require no further appraisal of the situation at hand?” Even as she addresses Cody, that piercing stare slants towards Obi-Wan, who does not possess nearly the same strength of will as his Commander. He offers her a sheepish smile, one hand coming up to rub at his beard.
“No, sir,” Cody responds promptly, thankfully drawing her attention once more.
“Very good,” she says. “I will choose to ignore the blatant breach of confidentiality on account of the fact that the knowledge you do possess saves a great deal of my valuable time. Now. The Council has tasked you with finding out just what knowledge trooper Fives claims to have following the… incident on Kamino. That said. If I deem your conversation to be causing my patient any undue stress, I will not hesitate to remove you from my medical facility immediately. Are we clear?”
“Yes, sir.” Cody shows no sign of discomfort beyond blinking slightly faster than usual, even as Obi-Wan can feel the phantom sensation of sweat starting to prickle against the back of his neck.
Without a word, Vokara turns around and opens the door behind her. The only indication she gives that they are meant to follow is one raised hand that falls again nearly as quickly as it waves them forward. Obi-Wan hesitates for only a moment before slipping through the door. Once inside, he hovers just beyond it, uncertain of the role he is meant to play in this scenario. If he is even welcome at all.
Fives is laid out in a hover-stretcher in the center of the room. Cody had been right when he’d said that Master Che’s report didn’t sound good. Now that Obi-Wan sees him, he's not sure there’s anything she could have said differently to make it sound any better – Not, at least, without bending the truth to a significant degree. The blaster wound that Obi-Wan knows from the reports to be painted across the middle of Fives’s chest is covered by bandages, and there are no other visible wounds across his otherwise bare torso. But his complexion is ashen, and he looks… small. Shrunken, in a way. He’s far from being all skin and bones, but his edges are softer than they once were, than they should be. Cody being in the same room only makes the stark wrongness of his current state that much more apparent.
“Trooper Fives,” Master Che says, voice soft in a way that Obi-Wan has never heard her afford anyone, least of all himself. His stomach rolls with it.
Fives turns his head to one side, but only barely. His jaw clenches with the effort. Having secured his attention, Che nods and shifts silently to the side as Cody steps forward to take her place. The moment Fives’s eyes land on him, they begin to fill with tears.
“Ori’vod,” he says, and there’s a crack in his voice. He raises a shaking hand, reaching out over the edge of the stretcher, and Cody surges forward to take it immediately.
“Udesii, vod.” His voice is almost too low for Obi-Wan to hear. “Ni olar. Gar morut’yc.”
Fives's head turns the rest of the way to rest against the hard surface of the stretcher beneath him, falling like he doesn’t have the energy to keep it up. That’s when his eyes – alert, thankfully, in a way that his body isn’t – find Obi-Wan where he stands against the far wall and go wide. Fives jerks forward even as the machine monitoring his heartbeat starts to beep faster. He’s only kept in place by Cody’s quick reflexes, which are aided by a quiet curse under his breath and a firm hand in the center of Fives’s chest.
“General,” Fives says, wet eyes blinking faster. His voice is stiffer, raspier, than it was before. “I–I’m sorry, I–”
Obi-Wan is already stepping forward, raising a placating hand. “At ease, Fives. I apologize if I’ve caught you off-guard; I only wanted to see for myself how you were doing,” he says with a smile, pressing as much soothing energy into his voice and through the Force as he can. “I understand, however, if you would prefer to speak with Cody alone. Just say the word and I’ll wait outside.”
Fives opens his mouth but closes it again quickly, hesitant. His attention flickers to Cody and holds there for a long moment. And then, jaw seeming to unclench, he turns eyes that appear to be quickly growing heavier back to Obi-Wan.
“No,” he says, laying his head back again so that he stares straight on towards the ceiling. “That’s alright, sir. I’m… glad you’re here.”
As Cody shuffles a pair of plastoid chairs around the room, Master Che slips away, towards the door. Obi-Wan catches her eye as she passes; she gives no indication that she sees him watching except for the smallest dip of her head in his direction. And then she’s out of the room, although Obi-Wan can’t imagine she’s gone far. He can feel Cody’s questioning gaze against the back of his skull, and when he turns to meet it, he only shakes his head. Cody, thankfully, doesn’t press him further. Only nudges one of the chairs closer to him before turning his full focus back on Fives. Like magnets, their hands drift together once more, seemingly without either of them really thinking about it.
“I’m here, vod,” Cody murmurs in the new quiet of the room. “I’m listening. Tell me everything.”
And he does.
He starts at the beginning. With Nala Se’s seeming desperation to insist that whatever had been affecting Tup was a virus, nothing more than a virus, and then – with the help of the droid AZI – his discovery of the so-called tumor that had turned out to be an organic chip implanted in every clone from birth. A chip the Kaminoan had passed off as an aggression inhibitor, claiming its harmlessness. Its benefits, even. He talks of his conviction that it was the chip that had caused Tup’s meltdown and his suspicions that the Kaminoans knew and were covering something up. Something darker, more sinister. A suspicion that had only seemingly been confirmed when Nala Se had drugged him.
And then there’s the Chancellor.
He continues beyond that – to his attempted escape, pursued through the lower levels by Fox and his men. His own brothers. Obi-Wan listens without interruption, watching the agonizing emotion warring across Fives’s features from over Cody’s shoulder, but part of his mind lingers, swirling dizzyingly, over the Chancellor.
The Chancellor who, if Fives is to be believed, lured him into a room alone so he could reveal the real purpose of the chips. A purpose so singularly sinister that it might be laughable were it not so horrifying.
Obi-Wan manages, by some miracle, to retain his mask of calm even as that itching spot of wrong inside him stretches slowly but violently into a yawning chasm of dread. He doesn’t know what it all means. There’s something missing, still – some piece of the puzzle that feels like it should be close enough to touch, but that he can’t quite hold onto. Something deep and dark, darker than anything he’s ever felt, that keeps slipping just out of reach every time he tries to close his fingers around it.
Fives is shaking when he finishes. His eyes are swollen with the tears that continue to slip through them seemingly without end; it’s a stark contrast to the gauntness of the rest of his face. He is a raw whirlwind in the Force, stripped down to his very core, and Obi-Wan wants desperately to help, to reach out and soothe the hurt, but it’s all he can do to keep his own walls intact against the onslaught of Fives’s emotion. There’s no telling whether his knuckles or Cody’s are whiter where their hands remain locked together like either one will disintegrate if they let go.
“You– You have to believe me,” he says, voice ragged where it drags out of his throat. Beside him, the heartbeat monitor’s pace spikes. “Getdet’ye. Ori’vod–”
Eyes blown wide, he starts trying to sit up again, stumbling over a rapid-fire string of pleas. And then Cody’s hand is on his chest while he mutters calming words and Obi-Wan is pushing to a stand. He doesn’t even get half off the chair before Vokara is already there, and he didn’t so much as hear the door open, but if Cody hadn’t already stepped out of her way, she undoubtedly would have moved him herself. Her voice is a whip, snapping, “Out!” as she makes herself a physical barrier between them and Fives, whose eyes are starting to roll back behind his fluttering eyelashes. Cody lurches forward, but Obi-Wan is faster, wrapping a hand around his Commander’s arm, just above his elbow, and tugging gently. He tenses, a hard wall slamming down over his expression and his emotions in the Force at the same time. But he glances back to meet Obi-Wan’s eyes and lets himself be guided out of the room.
The comparative silence of the waiting area outside the Main Hall is a physical weight across Obi-Wan’s shoulders. Cody sits on the very far end of the bench they share, leaving space enough for at least one other being between them. His helmet rests on the floor between his feet and he’s bent forward nearly in two, elbows braced on his knees and hands locked together behind his head. His breathing has long since steadied into a familiar rhythm that Obi-Wan clings to, letting it center his focus as he works to sort through his racing thoughts. What are the facts? a voice in his mind asks, and it sounds suspiciously like his Commander’s.
He’s just about to open his mouth when a voice that most certainly is not his Commander’s beats him to the punch.
“Master Kenobi.” Master Che’s distinct Twi’leki accent comes from behind him and he turns, only starting a little bit as he twists in his seat. “I–”
“How is he?” Cody asks, cutting her off mere moments before Obi-Wan is able to himself.
Che’s attention slides past him to land on Cody instead. The line of her mouth pulls taut, but she answers the question anyway, with a tone that betrays no further annoyance. “Exhausted. This soon after waking, Trooper Fives’s energy levels are near non-existent.” The corners of her sharp eyes soften, ever so slightly. “However, he is fine. His condition is perfectly stable, and some rest will do him wonders.”
Obi-Wan doesn’t even have to be looking to feel the way Cody relaxes next to him. “Thank you, Master Che,” he says, offering her his sweetest smile.
“Yes, well,” she says with a snort. “As I was attempting to say, Master Kenobi, I believe the Council is awaiting your report. I trust you have learned enough to provide adequate answers to their inquiries?”
She holds his gaze steady for a long moment. Outwardly, her expression changes very little, but Obi-Wan can feel the uncertainty that lingers beneath her surface, a partial reflection of his own. In that instant, he knows: whatever he's feeling, so is she, at least to some extent. There's an oppressive air of darkness pressing down around the edges of all of this. And it scares her too.
"Yes, I think it's best if I call the Council to convene as soon as possible," he says, already mentally steps ahead, planning how best to carefully broach this subject. Where to start so that his fellow Masters won’t immediately shut him down before he gets a chance to start convincing them of what, deep down, he knows he’s already decided. “Thank you. For your assistance today, and for everything you’ve done.”
“You have always been a flatterer, Kenobi.” Vokara rolls her eyes and Obi-Wan is glad to see the way the corner of her mouth curls. “Now get out.”
“I can take a hint,” Obi-Wan says, already pushing to a stand. He turns to see Cody already standing as well, fingers wrapped tightly around the edge of his bucket where it hangs at his side. “Shall we?”
Cody nods at Vokara once – long and slow, dancing just on the edge of a bow – before gesturing for Obi-Wan to lead the way.
“What did you think?” Obi-Wan asks after they turn into an otherwise deserted hall where sound won’t carry. Still, he keeps his voice low and catches himself walking ever-so-slightly closer, only straightening out when he feels his elbow knock against Cody’s armor. Not that he seems to notice. “About Fives’s story.”
The hand that isn’t holding Cody’s helmet comes up to rub at the side of his neck as he shakes his head. His brow is furrowed over his forward-facing stare, eyes focused on some distant spot that may or may not really be there.
“Fives is– I believe he’s convinced that everything he told us is true.”
“Are you?” Obi-Wan prods, watching the tell-tale way Cody bites at his lower lip in the pause before he answers.
“I– I don’t know, sir.” He shakes his head again, the tiniest motion back and forth. “If it were, that would mean– I don’t know what it would mean. That just one person or one group has been behind this whole war from the start? It’s– hard to believe. Hard to even think about. But on the other hand, if there is any truth to it. If– If the chips can make us–” He stops short, the catch of his breath nearly inaudible between them when his eyes flicker up to meet Obi-Wan’s before darting away again just as quickly. “It’s… not something I’d be willing to put to chance. Frankly, I’d rather be decommissioned.”
“That’s not going to happen,” Obi-Wan snaps immediately. “I would never let it.”
Cody snorts next to him, and Obi-Wan turns his head, eyes already narrowing in a glare. But there’s the phantom curve of a smile playing across Cody’s lips, visible even as he ducks his head. His expression is undeniably soft, and Obi-Wan’s heart hammers between his ears, nearly drowning out Cody’s barely-there response of, “I know.”
The sun through the tall windows behind him reflects in his eyes, turning them a molten gold, and Obi-Wan finds himself drifting closer again, helpless to resist the pull of Cody’s energy where it sits, a warm weight in its natural corner of his mind. There are words on the tip of his tongue, but he doesn’t know what they are or what they should be. Just that his hand is already lifting from his side, moving on its own to bridge the gap between them.
“Cody, I–”
The sound of footsteps on the hard stone floor cuts sharp and loud into his thoughts. His gaze snaps forward as he finds himself shifting sideways to increase the space between Cody’s shoulder and his own. As Bant Eerin approaches, she looks up from the datapad cradled in her arm and offers him a bright grin and a short wave. Obi-Wan offers her a smile in return. She’s just gotten back from a campaign on Florrum and suddenly he can see, all too clearly in his mind’s eye, her with her back turned and Herc – her loyal Captain, the second in command she had just been heaping endless praise upon over twin cups of tea the last time Obi-Wan had been able to catch her in a free moment – raising his blaster between her shoulderblades, unable to stop himself, while she stands defenseless, perfectly unaware–
Bant passes by, continuing on her way in the opposite direction, already moving webbed fingers across the screen of her datapad once more as she returns her full attention to it.
They turn a corner into the next hall and Obi-Wan takes a deep breath, releasing the snaking oppression that’s starting to coil around his heart into the Force on an exhale. That’s right. They have no time to waste.
“Commander,” he says as the turbolift that will take them to the Council Chambers comes into view. “Is it safe to assume that I can trust you to have my back during this meeting with the High Council?”
Cody’s steps stutter for the shortest moment and there is a clear note of surprise in his voice when he says, “You sure you want me backing you up in there, sir?”
“Of course.” It’s Obi-Wan’s turn to blink at him, brow furrowing. He hadn’t even thought to imagine a scenario in which he would set out to do this without Cody at his side. “You know exactly as much as I do, at this point. And besides, I am quite certain the ideas that I intend to present won’t be the most popular. I–” He stops, jaw snapping abruptly shut. His hand comes up to rub at his beard.
It’s possible that the members of the Council aren’t the only ones that will disagree with him. He casts a sideways glance at where Cody watches him with casual intent, giving Obi-Wan an assessing once-over. Cody is nothing if not a pragmatist. And, even if Obi-Wan can, somehow, convince the Council to go along with what he has to suggest, Cody could lose so much more from their agreement than he himself.
Still, he thinks as stands a little straighter, keeping his voice as casual as he can muster, Cody deserves to know.
“I plan to suggest rather strongly that the Jedi Order – and the Vode with them – formally secede from the Republic.”
Cody comes to a hard stop mere feet from the door to the turbolift. Obi-Wan stops walking as well, turning at a much more leisurely pace to meet his Commander face to face. Cody’s brow is a hard line and the expression on his face is entirely inscrutable. Even prodding gently at the piece of his mind where he can usually feel Cody’s signature yields no answers. Obi-Wan holds his stance of careful neutrality, but he can feel his heartbeat spike against his temples.
“Sir–”
Cody doesn’t get any farther than that.
In that moment, the screech of his communicator’s beeping is the single most wretched sound Obi-Wan has ever heard. He can’t stop his wince as he offers Cody an apologetic – not smile, he doesn’t quite have one of those in him right now – as he deliberately averts his eyes and turns, mumbling out a request for his Commander’s pardon.
He hopes the tension in his jaw isn’t audible through the commlink when he picks up the call.
“Anakin. This had better be–”
“Obi-Wan!” Seemingly oblivious to the pressure building quickly between his old Master’s eyes, Anakin sounds downright chipper, a grin in his voice. “Good, you’re not busy.”
“Actually, Anakin–”
“We just landed back on Coruscant, and I’ve been informed you’re still here. Thought you might be down for grabbing a bite at Dex’s? I’m famished. Just got to check in with the Chancellor first, and then–”
“Wait. Anakin. The Chancellor?” And suddenly, that dark spot of wrong is back, twisting a knife hard into Obi-Wan’s lungs. “Pray tell, what does the Chancellor have to do with–”
“Oh, right.” Anakin’s tone goes familiarly sheepish. “Did I forget to mention? I, uh– We might have been gone on a super secret mission I was assigned personally by the Chancellor? Listen, as soon as I give my report, I promise I’ll tell you all about it. Over a hot meal.”
“A secret mission for–? Anakin.” Obi-Wan’s breath stops.
With all the noise and violence of a bolt of lightning, the pieces click into place. The Chancellor, Fives had said. The Chancellor had known about the inhibitor– no, the control chips. The chips that exist in the heads of every soldier in the GAR, an army that – as Obi-Wan’s own journey to Oba Diah chasing the trail of a ghost had proved – Dooku had somehow had a hand in creating. If Fives is right, if what had happened with Tup is any proof, the chips are capable of turning each and every one of those soldiers against their Jedi Generals, likely at a moment’s notice.
If Dooku had put them there in the first place– If the entire army is a ticking time bomb– And if the Chancellor had known about them–
Dooku– Dooku had told him. On Geonosis all those years ago. Obi-Wan’s blood roars through his ears. The Republic under the control of a Sith Lord, he’d said. Hundreds of Senators. And who else has access to so many people, to so much influence, so much power. A person who had known about the chips.
Obi-Wan’s stomach drops out from under him. He’s going to be sick.
Anakin is still talking, but the words are nothing more than another handful of notes breaking through the static hurricane ringing in the space behind his temples, quick and loud enough to shatter his skull.
“Anakin, wait,” he manages, voice sounding far away to his own ears. “Listen to me. You can’t–”
“Sorry, Master, I’m kind of in a hurry. I don’t want to keep him waiting.”
“Anakin!” But it’s too late. The call has cut off, and Anakin is gone.
That chasm of darkness inside him rips open into a yawning pit. He feels like he’s teetering on the edge of it, looking down and down into endless black – so deep he might suffocate in it just from standing too close – and at the bottom of it all, in the very center, is Palpatine. Just where he’s always been. Except that’s not it, either, is it? The name Sidious rings in his ears, an ominous echo. A word that has always had a feeling attached to it, has always had a presence, and now, from out of what had once seemed like an impenetrable gray haze, has a face.
And there next to it, it’s all too easy to see it. The master and the apprentice; a mechanical right hand–
“–Sir?” Cody’s voice sounds much farther away than Obi-Wan knows him to be. He squints against the soft light that creeps in to fill his vision with streaks of painted gold. “Obi-Wan.”
The sound of his name from Cody’s lips lights a spark in an exceptionally warm corner of his mind, one that feels safe, and he gravitates towards it as the black pit falls away. In its place, he finds himself blinking into the very concerned face of his Commander. Cody is opening his mouth, most likely to voice at least one of the thousand questions reflected in his eyes, but Obi-Wan shakes his head, already raising the communicator on his wrist. He starts walking.
“Obi-Wan. I was wondering when we’d hear from you about–”
“Mace.” He knows how much the Master of the Order hates being interrupted, but he can’t wait, this can’t wait, there’s no time. “I need you to send backup to the Chancellor’s office immediately. I don’t have time to explain. The Chancellor– He’s a Sith Lord.”
For a long moment, there is silence on the other end. Maybe, he thinks, heartbeat spiking, Mace won’t believe him. But then: “Are you certain?”
“Yes. Entirely,” Obi-Wan responds without hesitation. “I believe he’s the one we’ve been looking for. The Master.”
“Alright. I’ll send a small force to meet you as soon as I can gather one,” Mace says. “And Obi-Wan. Don’t do anything rash before we get there.”
“Understood.” Obi-Wan begins to lower his wrist, already halfway to cutting off the comlink when he stops. “Wait. Under no circumstances should you utilize the forces of the Coruscant Guard. Contact Commander Fox right away; have him remove his men from the Senate Office Building entirely and issue a coms blackout until further notice. They may all be compromised without knowing it.”
Fortunately, Mace doesn’t press him for any further explanation. He would be justified in doing so, Obi-Wan knows; this isn’t an accusation that he can afford to take lightly. But all he says is, “Understood. May the Force be with you.”
Obi-Wan walks faster, half-jogging through the halls of the Temple as he reaches for the bond he shares with his former Padawan. He can hardly remember a time when it wasn’t there, that tether that holds the two of them to one another – At first as Master and Apprentice and now as equals. As brothers. He’s always been able to tug at it and find the familiar weight of it against his mind exactly where he expects it to be. That familiarity is exactly what has stopped him from taking the time to give the bond his full attention for far too long. As he does so now, brushing across it with a delicate touch and a close eye, his stomach drops out from under him.
It’s just as he’d feared. As he traces along the tether that connects them through the Force, he can feel the places where it starts to go thin. It’s subtle, so much so that he might never have seen it at all if he hadn’t been looking so deliberately, but it’s there. His bond with Anakin is fraying. And there’s something more, too. Something that scares him worse, even, than the rapidly-thinning fibers that have already begun to snap loose. Because the farther he reaches, the more he can feel it creeping just there, at the edges of Anakin’s half of the bond. Just one more thing he had missed. One he hadn’t been looking for.
The darkness caresses the outer edges of Anakin’s energy, reaching out like the flickering tongue of a bonfire. Searching to consume him.
The turbolift to the Temple Hangar appears at the end of the hallway right in front of him, and Obi-Wan rushes inside. He turns to key in the correct number but stops, abruptly, when he finds himself face to face with the second figure who has just followed him through the closing doors.
“Cody?”
“I sent word ahead, sir. A gunship will be ready to deploy by the time we reach the hangar.” He’s since put his helmet back on and stands in front of Obi-Wan like they’re prepping to jump out of an infantry transport instead of a turbolift.
“We?” Obi-Wan says, face scrunching up. “No, I– Thank you, Cody, for getting me a ship, but you'll not be coming with me.”
“All due respect, sir,” Cody says, firmly facing the turbolift doors as they make their ascent. “Don't be an idiot.”
Obi-Wan raises his eyebrows but forces back the sigh that's on the tip of his tongue. “This isn’t up for debate, Commander–”
“I heard you,” Cody huffs sharply, still staring strictly ahead. Not for the first time, Obi-Wan wishes he could throw that damnable bucket away altogether. Cody has always been far too good at shielding his emotions through the Force; he was a natural at it even before Obi-Wan started to teach him. “You said the Chancellor is a dar’jetii? If that’s true, then like hell I’m letting you walk in there without backup.”
Obi-Wan knows better than to pretend he has any intention of actually waiting until Mace shows up with his requested reinforcements. Cody knows him far too well to fall for that. And he deserves better.
“What of the control chips?” He says instead, shaking his head. “We still know nothing about how they’re activated. If you become compromised–”
“Then I trust you to do what needs to be done.”
The click of a blaster cocking has Obi-Wan’s head whipping to the side, stopping the retort that had been sharpening on his tongue. Cody has his holdout pistol in front of him, grip loose but careful around it in a way that Obi-Wan has seen countless times before and after battles, when he’s watched his Commander inspect his weapons with an intensity bordering on frightening. Seemingly satisfied, Cody nods before easily flipping the blaster in one hand so the grip is held out towards Obi-Wan in offering. It’s all he can do not to physically recoil, not that there’s anywhere for him to go in the tightness of the lift.
He raises both hands between them. “I don’t–”
“Take it,” Cody insists, before his protests can get any farther. “It’s set to stun.”
“Cody,” Obi-Wan breathes.
“You’re going to need it one way or another. The only way you’ll keep me off that ship is by using it on me.”
There is a hint of a smirk in his voice and Obi-Wan tsks, shaking his head at his Commander. His intensely loyal, frighteningly competent, unbreakably stubborn Commander, who had seemingly inherited all the bull-headedness of his genetic donor and then some. Obi-Wan wraps a hand around the offered blaster, fingers just barely brushing Cody’s as the weapon’s awkward weight transfers to him.
And then the turbolift stops and, with a woosh, the doors give way to reveal the wide-open space of the Temple hangar stretching out before them, filled with too many eyes and ears, and there is no more time to speak.
Cody is the first one through the doors, taking point as he marches forward, straight on towards a vod dressed in grays holding a datapad. Obi-Wan is right behind him, watching as he straightens into a salute at Cody’s approach and then relaxes in response to a placating wave. And then there are a few quick words exchanged, and fingers dancing across the datapad, and they’re being led across to a gunship at the far end of the hangar, where the deck officer barks an order up at the pilot who has already brought the ship to life by the time they step on board.
They’re well in the air, the glittering streets of Coruscant and its constant march of moving bodies passing in a blur beneath them, before either of them speaks. It’s Cody who breaks the silence, voice just loud enough to be audible over the whir of the engine and the rush of air outside.
“Where did you go?” he asks. “Back at the Temple.”
He doesn’t have to ask to know what Cody is referring to. The hand that isn’t holding onto the handle above him for balance scrubs down his face and he sighs.
“It’s Anakin. The bond I share with him through the Force is–” He squeezes his eyes shut tight, reaching out. Now that he’s seen them, the fraying edges stare back at him like an open wound and it seems impossible that he could have ever missed this. “It’s been damaged. Even now, I can feel the darkness surrounding him. If I’d just paid more attention–”
He exhales slowly, breath shuddering out of him as it catches wetly in his throat. But Cody, ever intuitive, has already filled in the gaps all on his own.
“That’s why you can’t wait.”
“Yes.” A nod. “I have this terrible feeling that if I don’t act now, I won’t get another chance to. That I’ll lose him.”
The movement of the ship around them makes him sway, knocking his shoulder gently against Cody’s. He doesn’t move to right himself and Cody doesn’t pull away. His voice is steady and strong next to Obi-Wan’s ear when he says, “Then let’s go get him.”
They don’t pass a single person as they make their way through the halls towards the Chancellor’s office. Obi-Wan can’t recall a time the Senate Office Building has ever felt so empty. The absence of the usual quietly hovering figures in red-streaked white plastoid is eerie, but it’s a good sign. Mace was seemingly able to follow through with his promise to divert the Coruscant Guard. If his request for a coms blackout has also been honored and the Chancellor has no way of contacting Commander Fox or his men then, hopefully, he won’t be able to use their command chips against them. Which means they have him cut off here. In the best case scenario, any other backup he could call for is located much farther away – hopefully off-world – and they won’t have to contend with the task of trying to disable any clones without hurting them.
All that is assuming, of course, that the Chancellor can’t hit a button or flip a switch that will instantly rid the entire two plus million-man force of the GAR of their free will and turn them against their allies and friends.
Obi-Wan stops just past where the hallway opens up. There, just against the opposite wall, sits the door to the Chancellor’s office. The space around them is just as vacant as the rest of the building had been. He doesn’t have to look to know Cody has stopped with him, falling into that space just over his right shoulder that he has always seemed to fill so naturally. Just as he fills a small but certainly not insignificant corner of Obi-Wan’s consciousness. A miniature sun, steady and bright. And mirrored on the other side of his mind, next to an empty space where he could once feel his own Master, is Anakin. Keeping close, still, to the warmth that Cody exudes, the solid weight of him, Obi-Wan reaches out with a tentative grasp to tug at his bond with Anakin.
Sure enough, he can feel him just there, on the other side of the door and balanced on the razor’s edge of a great divide. Within reach and yet so, so far away. Obi-Wan doesn’t know if he’ll be fast enough to pull him back. Doesn’t know if he’s capable of doing so in the first place. He only knows that he has to try. That the consequences of not trying are unfathomable.
“On my signal.” He exhales and risks one final look at Cody. “Stay behind me.”
And then he throws open the door.
As soon as he puts a crack in it, the dam shatters. It’s a flood of cold darkness, deep black cloying like he’s never felt before. It’s nothing like the reactor shaft on Naboo or the cavern on Geonosis. It’s black lightning, crackling through his skull and beneath his skin, a shock through his lungs that makes it hard to breathe; his every hair is standing on end, and he’s drowning in it.
The scene in front of him is something straight out of a nightmare. Worse, even, because his mind could never conjure anything like the expression of pure agony that twists gruesomely across Anakin’s face where he stands, clutching at his head with both hands. The Chancellor looms over him, except he’s not the Chancellor anymore. His features have twisted, somehow; the smile that stretches across his face is a bastardized version of that paternal expression – a farce, Obi-Wan knows now – that he has so often donned just the moment things start to look like they won’t go his way.
“Anakin!” Obi-Wan calls, reaching a hand towards him. He’s stopped dead in his tracks. The oppressive pressure of the dark energy exuding from the Chancellor, the Sith Lord, Darth Sidious, is a physical wall pressing back against him, holding him at bay. Even so, Anakin looks up with red-rimmed eyes, and is that a touch of yellow creeping in around his pupils? Obi-Wan can’t focus on that now. Has to swallow down the despair that threatens to creep up out of his chest and suffocate him. “Don’t listen to him.”
Sickly ochre eyes turn slowly, deliberately on him, and a chill spikes down his spine. “Look, Anakin,” says a voice that is Palpatine’s but also not. “I told you that he would come. He’s here to stop you.”
Stop him? He can’t fathom what that could possibly mean, but he knows it’s nothing good.
“N-No.” Anakin’s voice rips out of him in a growl, forced through clenched teeth. Obi-Wan takes a step forward but stops again when Anakin’s arm snaps out to one side and he roars, “Stay back!”
“Anakin, listen to me.” Obi-Wan holds his arms out to his sides in a placating gesture, keeping a visible distance between his hands and the belt that currently holds both his lightsaber and the borrowed blaster. “You can’t trust him.”
“I don’t know who I can trust!” Anakin shouts, eyes starting to glisten. “You’ve never trusted me!”
Anakin might as well have reached across the room and punched him in the gut. Obi-Wan shakes his head. The corner of his eyes sting and, for a moment, his mouth moves without words.
“Anakin, I– I’m so sorry,” he says, shoulders sagging even as he brings one hand up to scrub at the side of his face. “I’m sorry I ever made you feel that way. Sorry I’ve failed you. There are so many things, so many ways that I–” His voice creaks in his own ears, and his next exhale is a wet shudder. “But please, Anakin. Whatever he’s told you, it’s all lies. I– He’s a sith.”
“How do I know you’re not lying to me?” Anakin’s voice is hoarse and raw as the first tear slips down his cheek. “You’re always keeping things from me! You and the Council–”
“Whatever you want to know,” Obi-Wan interrupts. His hand falls to his side in a clenched fist and he barks a single laugh – a harsh, empty sound. “I’ll tell you. From now on, no more secrets. I just need you to trust me now.”
Anakin hesitates. For the first time, the hands that are buried in his frazzled hair loosen their grip and start to lower, slowly, towards his lap. Whatever he sees when he looks at Obi-Wan must convince him, or at least start to, that his promise is sincere. That blaze of anger in his eyes lowers to a simmer as his expression morphs into something else. Something closer to the face of boy on Tatooine who had never thought he could have a future outside of sand and slavery.
“But, I can’t– I have to– Padmé.” Anakin’s eyes stop shifting, finally, and lock on Obi-Wan’s. There is a plea in his voice. “She’s going to– I can’t lose her, Obi-Wan.”
Obi-Wan’s thoughts are a jumble; he can already feel his emotions creeping in dangerously around the edges of his mind, looking to twist the knots further and deeper. Still when he breathes – in, out – when he finds the steadying rope the Force offers up and wraps it in his grip – around and around until the fog on the glass of his mind gives way to light – there are so few answers. How long has Palpatine, has Sidious, been filling Anakin’s head with lies? The poisonous taint of them eats at the fringes of their bond even now.
It has the exact same feeling as the rancid, syrupy lilt of Sidious’s voice where it grates against the edges of his consciousness when he speaks. “You don’t have to, Anakin,” he promises, the words serpent-smooth even through a rattling chest. “You can save her. Only you can save her. You know what you must do.”
“Can’t you see he’s using you, Anakin?” Obi-Wan snaps, nose wrinkling against the wave of decay that pulses through the Force and starts to sink into his lungs. “Let me help you. Help her. I want to help, Anakin, but you have to trust me.”
Obi-Wan takes a step forward and finds it’s easier than he’d expected. That black wall holding him back has warped and receded. He can still feel it around him, pressing in like gelatin – spongy, now, and giving in a way that it wasn’t before. Yes. He breathes through the pressure against his chest, deep and slow. There is no chaos, there is harmony.
He reaches out a hand.
Anakin rises to one knee, but before he can so much as take a breath, a snarl from Sidious in front of him draws their attention towards the Sith Lord a mere moment before his arm snaps forward in a far too familiar gesture.
“No!” that wretched, scratching voice cries and Obi-Wan braces himself. But the sensation he was expecting, that sudden loss of breath, the burning of his lungs as he is lifted off his feet, never comes. Alarm spiking through the center of his chest, he redirects his attention to Anakin. But no. While his eyes are wide, his chest still rises and falls, loud and labored in the quiet space.
Behind him, there is a harsh inhale through a vocoder. Obi-Wan whirls around, Cody’s name already a gasp on his lips.
His Commander hovers just above the exorbitantly plush carpet, so close that the boot he kicks out when he tries fruitlessly to gain a foothold scrapes against the floor. Obi-Wan jerks forward, but he has no chance of grabbing onto Cody before his body is wrenched out of his reach, swaying like a ragdoll’s.
“Commander.” The smile that’s audible in Sidious’s voice turns Obi-Wan’s blood to ice. “Come to me.”
Cody drops. He trips forward to land on one knee and only then just barely seems to keep from tipping the rest of the way to the floor. He pushes himself up, unsteady on his feet, and Obi-Wan’s stomach lurches. He’s never seen Cody unbalanced except for when he’s been quite literally bleeding out. Even from here, he can feel the tendrils of darkness that claw at his Commander. That corner of his mind that is all Cody is fading with alarming speed.
“Cody!” he calls out. His Commander’s stiff gait never falters. Obi-Wan can only watch, one arm still forward in a hopeless attempt to reach him, as Cody crosses the room until he’s standing directly in front of Sidious.
“Good,” the Sith Lord says in a sickly rattling purr. He waves a hand calmly and Cody turns slowly so he’s facing Obi-Wan. He raises both hands to undo the seal on his helmet. And then pauses. It’s the briefest flicker of hesitation, but it’s there, twisting Sidious’s scowl deeper, and Obi-Wan takes his opportunity. He finds Cody in the Force, his normally bright, warm pulse that has dimmed under the suffocation of Sidious’s influence, and grabs on with both hands. For a moment, he feels the brush of a presence in his own mind in return. Like Cody is squeezing back.
And then, Cody in the room in front of him finishes removing his helmet, dropping it carelessly to the ground next to him where it thuds against the carpet, bouncing as it rolls. But Obi-Wan doesn’t see it. He can’t look anywhere that isn’t at Cody. Cody, whose every expression Obi-Wan has collected and compiled in a photo album that rests in a corner of his heart, never to be examined too closely. In the course of nearly three years, he’s seen it all. The intense set of determination that Obi-Wan knows means he won’t be deterred by anything less than death, that flash of anger that he’s always so quick to reign in, the smug amusement that he only lets seep through when it’s just the two of them, alone.
And now? Nothing.
Cody’s eyes – normally so brilliant, beautiful, gold – are cold. Vacant. His face is a blank slate that settles uncomfortably in the pit of Obi-Wan’s stomach.
“Pay close attention, Master Jedi,” Sidious snarls. He stands just over Cody’s right shoulder, half-hidden behind him – a coward’s ploy – head tilting to one side ominously. He tuts with false pity. “How many lives have you not been able to save? I wonder which will be the one to break you.”
He snaps his fingers and, as Cody’s blaster raises, Obi-Wan is already igniting his lightsaber in front of him, ready to deflect the shots safely into the nearby walls. But the blaster fire he’s expecting doesn’t come. Because the weapon in Cody’s hand isn’t pointed towards him.
A strangled noise wrenches itself from Obi-Wan’s rapidly closing throat against his will as the chill that shoots from his spine down through his toes freezes him in place. Cody continues to stare, unblinking, even with the metal barrel of his blaster digging directly into the skin just beneath the hinge of his jaw. Obi-Wan’s mouth opens, but no words come.
“Your reputation precedes you, Master Jedi,” Sidious continues, voice warping into heavy velvet in his ears. He can feel the dark edges of it in the space between every word, but his shields are cracking and he can’t seem to pull them tight enough to keep it out. “You have inspired quite the loyal streak in your men. Your compassion for them is… admirable. And yet. Your dear Commander is different.”
Sidious’s hand raises and wrinkling, gnarled fingers curl tight around Cody’s left shoulder. Obi-Wan jerks violently forward.
“Don’t,” he croaks, lip curling as he grits his teeth.
Sidious’s twisted grin only spreads. “I feel your passion, your anger. They give you strength,” he says, brittle voice crackling with barely-contained glee. “Use them. You know he will not see the end of this war. None of them will, your toy soldiers. But you want to save them, do you not? All you have to do is let go. Surrender to me. Join us.”
Finally the hand releases Cody’s shoulder, moving instead to gesture to the side where Anakin still sits, kneeling up on one knee now. His former Padawan’s wide, wild eyes shift back and forth between Jedi and Sith, his conflict nearly as loud on his face as it is in the Force.
“Never.”
Obi-Wan shifts to stand up straighter, the blade of his lightsaber retracting at his side with a whoosh. Cody’s hand trembles around the grip of his blaster and, as Obi-Wan watches, a single tear slips from the corner of his eye to slide down his cheek. Obi-Wan’s fist clenches at his side, his every muscle screaming to reach out. Breathing through too-tight lungs, he clings to the threads of the Living Force that reaches out towards him with steadying hands. There is no passion, there is serenity. At the same time, he tightens his grip on Cody’s mind – the part of it, at least, that he is able to still reach – cradling it like a precious thing as he pours everything through their fragile connection.
“You will not break me,” he says, voice hoarse but steady. His emotions pulse, warm and bright, through the space between them and he hopes, prays, that Cody understands. All of the things he’d never said– “I am stronger than you know. And I am not alone; you may cut me down, but still whatever plans you have will fail.”
Chin held high, never once letting his eyes leave Cody, he drops his lightsaber.
It clatters against the floor, but the sound is barely audible over Sidious’s vicious snarl. The air in the room fills to bursting, crackling with the power of the dark as it slams down over them like a curtain, sucking the oxygen from his lungs.
“Fire!” Sidious commands.
Obi-Wan barely hears the sound of the blaster shot over his own shout. He’s already raised his hand and Cody’s pistol with it, but his finger is still loose against the trigger and he doesn’t fire. He’s too late.
Cody falls.
Obi-Wan knows he’s speaking, knows there’s an endless stream of words falling from his mouth, but his ears are ringing with the roar of his own heartbeat and he can hear nothing else. He all but trips over his own feet as he rushes forward, falling to his knees to scramble for the limp heap of Cody’s body where it sprawls against the carpet.
Carefully, like he’s handling glass, he pulls Cody into his arms, cradling his face with one hand, thumb gently brushing tears from wet cheeks. Wide, wild eyes blink up at him as his Commander’s gasp for air breaks through the buzzing in Obi-Wan’s skull. Cody shudders violently against him. Obi-Wan’s hold tightens.
“General,” Cody rasps. His hand wraps around Obi-Wan’s wrist hard enough to bruise – Obi-Wan never wants him to let go – and he shifts to lean into the hand against his cheek. He squeezes his eyes shut tight before opening them again, blinking quickly like he’s trying to keep his focus. “The dar’jetii–”
Obi-Wan glances up to where Sidious’s crumpled form lays on the floor no farther than a few feet away, limbs twisted at awkward angles. There is still a hint of smoke rising from the fresh blaster hole in the center of his forehead.
“Won’t be a problem anymore,” Obi-Wan assures, attention returning immediately to Cody, whose face scrunches up.
“Osik,” he breathes. And then, “Well. Oya.”
A laugh bubbles up out of Obi-Wan’s chest, and somewhere in the middle of his throat it becomes a sob. Cody’s hold on his wrist disappears and Obi-Wan wants to protest, but then there is the gentle brush of fingers against his cheek, wiping at the wetness of tears he hadn’t realized he’d let fall. He catches Cody’s hand in his own, lips brushing with the barest pressure against the backs of his knuckles.
Cody smiles up at him, a warm, fragile thing.
And then he’s lurching forward in Obi-Wan’s arms, convulsing with a sharp hiss that morphs into a groan. His hand wrenches out of Obi-Wan’s grip to grab at the center of his chest as he gasps in a rattling lungful of air.
“Cody.”
Obi-Wan’s breath catches hard in his throat and his head snaps up. The first thing his eyes land on is Anakin – oh Force, Anakin, he’d almost forgotten – and he swallows down a surge of guilt for not checking on his former Padwan as well. After all, Anakin is still on the floor – now curled in on himself with his head in both hands between his knees, shoulders shaking – and he doesn’t seem to be aware of what’s happening around him, even when Obi-Wan tries to call to him. Force. He presses down the panic rising up through his chest and focuses back on Cody.
“K’oyacyi,” he murmurs as another violent shudder wracks the body in his arms. “Gedet’ye.”
He leans in close, holding Cody steady as he presses a gentle kiss to the center of his forehead, murmuring soothing words against his skin. And that’s how Mace Windu, along with half the Jedi Council, find him a moment later when they stride through the door. Obi-Wan whips around to find Mace surveying the room, surprise flickering across his usually stoic expression as he surveys the scene in front of him. Slowly, his hand falls away from the lightsaber at his side and he turns his focus on Obi-Wan, raising an eyebrow.
Before he can ask whichever one of the likely thousands of questions running through his mind that he’s decided should have the highest priority, Obi-Wan opens his mouth to interrupt the Master of the Order for the second time in a single day.
“Call a medic.”