#;r: a leader like you (Ｃｏｍｍａｎｄｅｒ Ｃｏｄｙ)

[kyberled]

☠ - itspersonalforus (NO REGRETS)

Send “ ☠ “ And my muse will react to seeing the dead body of your muse. || Accepting

The chaos of battle was roiling around them, just as it always did. He didn’t find it nearly as distracting as it used to be. The clanking of battle droids was almost akin to silence, a discordant white noise underneath the chatter of the comm-channel and the shrieks of blaster fire. Braig’s sabers hummed in his hands, superheated plasma bathing everything it carved through in comforting violet as he pivoted and swerved to avoid being felled by incoming bolts. Right, left, parry, counter, left, left, right, an improvised dance that was new every time, and yet oh-so-familiar, like walking down the Temple halls for the upteenth time.

A fighter screamed past overhead, with two vultures in hot pursuit. Braig let his eyes flick upwards for just a moment, a welcome reprieve, a blessed break in the combat as droids marched over their fallen brethren without so much as a glance down. Spiralling like a drill, the fighter ascended skyward at a pace far greater than what was safe (Braig ducked under a bolt, parried to send another ricocheting into the mass of approaching droids to a satisfying hiss and crack) before engines were cut and the ship plummeted rapidly (Braig pivoted, flipped his sabers into a reverse grip, drove the blades backwards into the carapaces of a pair of B2s). The vultures sputtered for a moment, circuits heating as they tried to figure out the proper response (the B2s creaked and threatened to collapse and crush; Braig torqued his upper body and pulled hard on the Force, sending the bulky scrap-heaps up and over to smash down on a few rather unfortunate B1s). The ship’s engines screamed up– Bolts loosed from its canons (Braig lost a few steps of ground, sabers screaming to intercept another volley sent his way). The sound of lethal fireworks overhead brought a smile to Braig’s face, though he did have to jump back to avoid being crushed by some of the debris (he wished he’d had the foresight to pull some droids into the debris’ path, though it looked like a few were taken out, anyway).

“Nice work, Mavvy!” Braig said into the comm, and was greeted with a triumphant laugh.

> Maverick said, doing his now-traditional celebratory barrel-roll before swooping low, mowing a path through the droids with his canons.

“I can tell,” Braig smiled at the brief rest this gave him, taking the opportunity to check to either side and regroup his thoughts. It was only a second of peace, and he had to whip around as a roller came barrelling towards him.

> Otto’s voice crackled in his ear. Braig grit his teeth, taking a page from his mentor’s book as he thrust his palm out with the Force.

> Maverick shot back. Wind roared and tugged at Braig’s hair and clothes as another ship shot by in pursuit of Maverick’s - a friendly. Nothing to worry about. > Braig couldn’t help but chuckle at that, a faint bit of amusement as his focus shifted away from the chatter. More bolts - dodge back, duck low, sweep up; Turn, block, slash, stab forward.

“Does anyone have a read on Cody’s position?” He asked, touching his ear piece just long enough to make sure his question got through before carving back with his sabers and launching himself off, using both the Force and another B2 as a springboard to launch himself into the air. Weight shifted and the Force was called on once again to send him spiralling down. Landed in a stance learned from his master, though the way his sabers flared out to either side was taken from Master Windu (the lessons were paying off, Braig thought to himself).

> Beskar, who seemed to be in a much better mood than usual, though he still snorted.

>

“Thank you, Maverick, and no, Bes, he’s not.” Braig had to fight to avoid rolling his eyes and distracting himself any more than he already was.

> The shifting tones of engines overhead signalled Maverick making a turn and once again swooping low over the chaos. >

Razz groaned audibly, but peeled away from the centre of the fight, too, mumbling some sort of profanity all the while. Antics aside, it did make Braig feel a bit more at ease. Cody would be fine - of course he would be, he could handle himself. It had just been a while since he’d seen Cody, that was all. He was allowed to be concerned. The Force whispered in his ear, but he couldn’t make out the words amid the din of war. The only sign of the messages’ intent was the sharp, sub-zero chill that raced down his spine.

Didn’t have time to dwell, though - a series of shouts over the comm and a flare of the Force had him springing back just in time to avoid being crushed by an incoming mortar. The ground erupted, the world turning searing white for what felt like an eternity but couldn’t have been more than a second before fading to yellow, orange, red, than back into focus as shards of earth and fire flew in every direction with a sound like the agonised cry of a crumbling mountain. Braig ducked his head down, arms coming up to shield his face as debris shot with potentially lethal force - the shredded sleeves of his tunic would be testament to that. The ground under his feet rumbled, and it took conscious effort to shift his centre of gravity to avoid being sent sprawling. He didn’t have time to recover- at least a handful of the battle droids had resumed fire. One bolt was loosed far too close for comfort - a burning sting clipped his right arm, splitting skin and scalding blood. He winced. A yelp struggled for release behind his teeth, but he swallowed it down, rolling his shoulder as he turned and re-ignited his saber.

“What was that?” He demanded. The comm in his ear crackled for a second, popping loudly – Then voices.

> Surefire said over the sound of his brothers’ cursing and the sharp staccato of blaster fire. > Braig swerved out of the way of another bolt, guard stuttering when he tried to throw his right arm along with his left. One bolt whizzed by his face, close enough that the heat crackled against his skin. He swore. The Force was called to swell around him, channelled into the fresh damage on his arm to dull the pain and render it useful again.

“Any word on Cody, yet?” He asked, driving the blade of his saber through a B2 and using its massive body as a shield for a few moment’s respite. “Or Obi-Wan?”

> Razz replied. “Things’re getting pretty thick out here, though.”>>

“Fine, I’m sure they’re alright. Call off the search, see if you can take out those mortars.”

> Razz said, and Maverick snorted as the ships turned to head out over the field. Braig pressed his lips into a thin line, devoting attention back to the fight. The Force kept niggling at him, though, an uncomfortable tingling on the back of his neck hinting at something not sitting well in the galaxy.

The fight pressed on around him, violent and ravenous. A minute or so later - maybe a little longer, maybe a little less - an even louder explosion roared off in the distance.

> Another of the pilots, Siren, cheered.

“One of them?” Braig repeated, feeling a mixture of worry and irritation building in his chest.

> Beskar seemed annoyed, too.

> Razz replied, and another loud explosion rocked the air. > He sounded as though he was enjoying himself; At least somebody was.

“Good,” Braig said. “Keep it up–” The Force screamed so loudly he thought for sure it would be audible over the comm channel. If anyone had commented on it, though, he couldn’t tell - only turned to see one of the mortars overhead, coming in like an asteroid. Braig looked to either side– The droids had paused, too, but it didn’t look as if there was any room for any of them to run, and they all seemed to have realised it a second before he did. A wordless plea was already building in Braig’s mind as he backpedalled from where he stood, looking for an opening - he didn’t want to die like this -

A shot.

A sudden impact.

The taste of dirt with a hint of metal filled his mouth right before the wave of heat rushed over.

Everything was black…

Until, of course, he opened his eyes. He saw dirt, ash, charred metal… And a white and gold plastoid-clad arm wrapped over his head. It took Braig a second to snap out of his daze, but relief and reality ran neck-and-neck in the race to hit him first.

“Cody–” He tried, then coughed up a mouthful of dirt. The weight that was smushing him into the ground shifted, and two blaster shots rang out through the air, followed by the satisfying thud of droids falling to the ground. Braig squirmed to see what was going on, and Cody rolled off with slightly less grace than Braig was used to. Braig sat up, saber blade flaring to clumsily intercept another angry red bolt. Taking a moment, he glanced down to the Commander and sucked in a harsh breath. The back side of Cody’s armour was charred black - the only reason Braig was aware of this was the black streaks that smudged along the visible edges of his back piece, and the distinct stench of melted plastoid and roasted skin. The breathing that filtered through Cody’s helmet was audible and laboured, but he was breathing, and that was enough to set Braig’s mind at least somewhat at ease. He didn’t have much time to perform a proper assessment - didn’t even have time to stand before another series of shots were fired off their way. A crouch would have to do. Violet hums painted the air with their fury, and for a moment Braig would have liked nothing more than to lunge at the mechanical masses and tear them apart for what they’d done, but the more rational part of him insisted that he had to stay near Cody. The thought was enough to draw his attention back down to the prone Commander.

“Are you okay?” He asked, letting his mind flick to Cody’s Force signature. It didn’t look good.

“I’m fine, Bra’ika,” Cody said, pushing himself to sit. His voice was rough and strained, though he either didn’t notice, or didn’t care. Braig did notice, and Braig did care. “What about you?”

“I’m fine– You shouldn’t be sitting up.” Braig frowned, whipping his right arm out to deflect another shot and hissing when the burned skin protested (his lapse in concentration was costing him; he couldn’t suppress the pain if he couldn’t focus). Even as he turned back to the droids, he heard the familiar sound of a blaster pistol being racked.

“Cody–” He began, but the sound of a bolt being fired off, the sight of brilliant blue slamming into and piercing the head of a droid Braig hadn’t noticed, stole the words from his mouth.

“Gotta watch your back,” Cody said, firing off another shot. “Can’t let you get hurt.” Braig glanced back to him, noticed his hand was shaking.

“You need to save your strength, you’re injured.” Braig insisted, turning back to the fight. He could hear Cody shifting again, more shots being loosed, and above it all, that familiar voice.

“I’ll be fine, Braig.”

The padawan huffed his displeasure, but realised this was neither the time nor the place to argue.

“Where’s Cad?” He asked the comm, turning back to the battle.

> Maverick said as a third explosion split the sky.

“No, I found Cody. Where’s Cad?” Braig swallowed back the metallic salt of exhaustion. The unspoken reason for his question was enough to sober up the chatter that had filled the airwaves.

> Cad’s voice, gruff as ever, was like a godsend. >

“Not good,” Braig said, turning his attention to the Force. “And he won’t just lie still for a minute.”

> Cad sounded exasperated, and Braig couldn’t blame him.

“How quickly can you get over here?” Braig launched a pair of B1s backwards, noting with some measure of relief that the droids looked to be thinning out - were they retreating?

> A younger soldier cut in, and Braig nodded to himself.

“Thanks, Mark.” He said, then elected to lower the volume on his comm, rather than turn it off completely - to leave a traceable signal, just in case. He shifted his stance and sighed with relief. The droids really were thinning out. In the not-so-far-off distance, he could see them beginning to turn and run. A fighter swooped in overhead, lighting up the ground a few feet in front of Braig and scattering most of the closer droids (on that side, at least).

> Though quieted by the lowered volume, the triumph in Siren’s voice was palpable. 

“I owe you one, Si!” Braig returned, ducking down both to check on Cody and shield his face from the wind as Siren looped around to clear the other side. 

The one negative to the field quieting was that Braig could easily hear Cody’s breathing. Stuttered, ragged, and positively soaked through with blood. The Commander was laid out on the ground, no longer trying to prop himself up.

“Cody?” Braig said, trying to keep the note of panic out of his voice. “Cody, can you hear me? It’s okay, you’re going to be okay.” 

(Jedi weren’t supposed to lie.)

Cody coughed, and Braig eased his helmet off, drawing in a sharp breath at the sight of his protector’s face. Cody was pale, eyes half-lidded and glazed, with a trickle of red running from either side of his mouth. 

“We won?” Cody asked, not moving his head. (It sounded like a question, at least.)

“Yes,” Braig said, swallowing even as he shifted to sit cross-legged at Cody’s side. “The boys are just clearing out the last of the clankers, and then we can go home.” He hoped he didn’t sound too distraught.

“Good,” Cody said, voice barely above a whisper as his eyes closed. 

“Just hang on a bit longer, okay? I’m going to do what I can to help you, and Cad’s on his way.” Braig drew a careful breath through his nose, exhaling out his mouth as he focused his thoughts on Cody’s presence. It was faint and flickering, like the flame of a candle, and that made it difficult to keep his mind clear. 

(Cody was dying.)

Something brushed against his face, and he tried to ignore it; tried to will the Force to close over injuries and keep Cody at least stabilised until help arrived. The brush came again, and Braig frowned, face scrunching in displeasure before he opened one eye to see what it was. Cody’s hand was hovering by his face, still covered in ash and dirt. Cody rested his hand on the back of Braig’s neck, guiding the boy’s head to rest against his scuffed chest piece. 

“Cody, you need to lie still,” Braig said, oblivious to how he was shaking, blinking out the mysterious, stinging wetness that clouded his vision. “You’re hurt, you need to save your strength. Cad’s coming, and he can help you, and- and I can help you, but you need to rest–” He hiccuped, even as the fading commander hushed him softly, even as Cody’s trembling hand smoothed his hair back. 

“Cody, please,” Braig reached for Cody’s free hand, clutching it desperately. “Just a little longer, please hang on, please– Cody, please don’t go…” Breath came at a steep cost, struggling past the knot that twisted in his throat. He thought Cody might have said something, but he couldn’t tell for sure. There was no sudden fanfare, no explosions or soulful music, no grand swearing of revenge, nothing like the movies as the clone Braig would later describe as one of the greatest men the galaxy had ever been fortunate enough to post passed away. A quiet, plain death. Something in the back of his mind told him that Cody might have preferred this. It was overpowered by a louder voice, chanting over and over, ‘this is my fault, this is my fault, this is my fault’. 

(Cody is dead because of me.)

(I should have died instead.)

Cad, Mark, and Jogger pulled up less than a minute later. Braig was sitting, silent and motionless, staring at nothing in particular as he clutched Cody’s lifeless hand. Jogger was the first to swing his legs off of the speeder, boots thumping against the dust and anxiety screaming through the air around them, the hum of the engines seeming to take so much longer to fade as the sun beat down and beat down and beat down and the smell of fuel and burnt skin and scorched earth filled the air and Cody’s hand felt so heavy and everything was too much, too much, make it stop please let this be a dream and 

Braig shook his head before any of the men could speak; judging by the bleak slate that radiated from Cad, the team medic already knew. The sludgy ice that echoed from the younger men suggested that they were shocked. They said something but even though their voices were so loud Braig couldn’t make out what they were saying. 

“We should take him back,” he said, and even his own voice sounded too harsh in his ears. “He deserves a burial.”

“Ah- Sir,” Mark’s voice still rang like thunder, but, with some strain, Braig could understand him. “We clones, ah, we don’t usually get buried–”

“Then he’ll have a Jedi’s funeral.” Braig would apologise for snapping at a later date, but for the time he hardly even noticed. 

“The Temple can spare a pyre, surely, and Force knows he’s done more for the Republic than some of us could ever hope to.” He glanced over his shoulder only briefly before swallowing back the thickness in his throat, gathering Cody’s helmet into his arms as though it could offer some comfort. 

(It couldn’t.)

Mark said nothing more, only exchanged a look with his brothers before moving to lift Cody as carefully as he could.

“He deserves that much,” Braig said, hesitating a moment longer before standing to get out of their way.

“… He deserves better.”