#‘so does gravity’ Cody replies

[frostbitebakery]

WIP Sunday

[hellowkatey]

Febuwhump Day 13

Prompt: hiding injury 

Read on AO3

Note: I connected the next three Febuwhump days within the same plot, so day 14 and 15 will be parts 2 and 3. 

The Further I Fall 

With a parka zipped all the way up to his chin, hood up, two layers of snow pants, and his arms crossed against his chest loosely (since his many layers of clothing have decreased his range of motion), General Skywalker has never looked more like a pouting child. Rex watches in utter amusement as he quarrels with a very tired looking General Kenobi.

"Hoth? You realize when people describe cold icy hells, they are actually talking about Hoth, right?"

"We're not taking a vacation, Anakin, this is a mission and you are welcome to stay on the ship if you are afraid of a little chill," the Jedi Master replies without even looking up from his datapad. It is an absolute wonder to Rex that Kenobi has put up with Skywalker for over a decade now. He's known the guy for like a year and even that has been draining, albeit, amusing in most cases.

His pouting only increases at that suggestion. "I'm not afraid. And I can't let you go alone, either."

"Cody and Rex will be with me," he says, glancing up as Cody walks into the room in his own cold-weather gear. "Really, Anakin, it's just a recon mission. Checking on a crashed Separatist ship and then we're done." he finally looks at his former padawan. "So are we going to complain, or get this over with?"

The younger Jedi grumbles something that Rex can't hear and stomps away. Sometimes he forgets that Skywalker is still very young. Practically a teenager-- why they gave a teenager another teenager of his own is beyond him, but the Jedi seem to operate a little differently than logic would suggest. He supposes he can't really argue since his brothers are all technically pre-teens in standard time, but at least they have adult development and the ability to grow facial hair.

Rex leans over to Cody and elbows him in the ribs. "How long do you think your Jedi lasts until he blows up on Skywalker?"

Cody raises an eyebrow. "Are you bettering on our generals getting into a fight?"

"Uh, yeah. Have you met them?"

A pause. "Okay, are we talking a verbal or physical fight..."

By the time they reach the surface of Hoth, Rex is shocked by the cold that immediately cuts straight to his bones. No matter how many layers he thought was sufficient, he was wrong. Luckily his armor hides the shake of his body and his helmet modulates out the chattering of his teeth.

"We shall make this quick," General Kenobi yells over the wind as they walk from the ship. It takes a moment for Rex to see it through the raging storm, but he soon can make out the outline of a Separatist cruiser half-buried in the snow. Their intelligence indicated it crashed only a week ago by Hoth standards, but you wouldn't know it by looking at the ice-covered ship. Already it seems to be feeling the effects of the cold, some parts looking to be concaved in either from the crash or the weight of the snow. The ship is quickly becoming a permanent part of the landscape.

They find an entrance and slip into the ship, which is thankfully resting on its belly. Thankfully, these ships are made for deep space and have the insulation to keep the cold out at least a little bit. Rex can see the general's breaths forming clouds, but it's better than the bitter windchill from outside.

"What a dump," Skywalker mutters as they traverse the ruined halls.

"Agreed," Rex whispers back. They aren't exactly sure what they'll find-- hopefully an operational computer they can download data from, but taking out a few cold clankers would also be a plus. So far all the droids seem to have had a bad time in the crash. Their parts are scattered around at random, a head here, half an arm there. Rex and Cody kick a ball socket from the hinge of their elbows back and forth to one another as they walk.

"So let me get this straight," Skywalker starts, an edge in his voice that Rex knows well. "They sent two Generals, and two high ranking troopers to walk through an abandoned ship at the edge of hell?"

"You must be forgetting the part of the council meeting where they assigned only you to the mission, and you managed to rope me into accompanying you."

Skywalker grimaces, and Rex smirks under his mask. "But what about Rex and Cody?"

"They volunteered."

"Someone's got to watch your back, sir," Rex grins.

Maybe the universe decided to make Rex put his credits where his mouth is because the ship lets out a low groan and suddenly their horizontal trek down the hall becomes vertical. Rex hardly has time to react before falling onto his back and slipping down the hallway like some sort of demented slide.

"Hold on!" he hears General Kenobi yell out, and suddenly Rex is being thrown in a direction that is not in line with gravity. He and Skywalker collapse into a heap on the wall beside a blast door, Rex's armor crashing into the electrical panel and shattering the display. The door slams closed with an echoing boom.

"Obi-Wan!" Skywalker groans, looking wide-eyed around the wall they now sit on. "Self-sacrificing, bastard," he curses, realizing that he and Rex are alone on one side of the blast door, and assumedly Kenobi and Cody are on the other. He reaches for his commlink to contact Cody, but to his dismay, that too was crunched in the fall.

"Alright, the ship's structural integrity is probably compromised so we ought to--"

Skywalker doesn't wait for whatever Rex has to say before thrusting his lightsaber into the wall. I don't know why I even try.

If there is an argument he knows he can't win, it's anything that involves getting between the Jedi. Rex learned very quickly it is better to just let them do whatever it is they think is the next step. Skywalker cuts out a circle in the wall and moments later it drops into the hallway below. Rex internally counts how long it takes to hit-- 1...2...3...4...5...6

The piece of durasteel slams into something that is definitely not the wall of a ship. It makes a transperisteel-like shattering noise that resonates back up through the vertical corridor, but that is not what concerns Rex primarily. The time it took to fall makes him nervous. He glances up at the Jedi, wondering if he too is concerned they heard no noise from below. No yell of surprise at a falling piece of durasteel or even talking amongst the General and Cody.

"I got you, Rex," Skywalker says, standing at the edge of the hole. Rex, again, knows what's coming. The Jedi doesn't think twice before jumping down through the hole, and Rex-- having done this song and dance a few times with the Jedi follows close behind. He's plummeting through complete darkness, the updraft nearly sending his helmet flying off his head. Rex squeezes his eyes shut, knowing nothing he does now can save him-- it's up to Skywalker.

Sure enough, he gets the strange sensation of the air around him thickening, slowing his velocity until he is practically floating right above the floor. His general releases him from his Force powers, and Rex's boots land with a solid thud on the ground. From the light of Skywalkers' saber, he can see why the durasteel circle didn't make the noise he expected-- it appears in this portion of the ship was torn apart, giving way to the interior of an icy glacier.

So where are Kenobi and Cody?

"Rex," General Skywalker says, having walked up ahead a little further. He can now see the large tunnel that goes deeper into the icy mountain. There is a clammer, and then to the clone captain's surprise, the tunnel illuminates. Skywalker stands at a control panel, staring pensively down the lit-up passage.

"Sir, I don't think this ship crash was an accident," Rex says. He scans the entrance using a thermal scan in his helmet. Most of it is a bright white or blue, but thankfully there are faint yellow footprints leading down the tunnel. Two pairs of them. Rex walks up next to Skywalker, turning off the display. "Looks like General Kenobi and Cody decided to check it out."

Skywalker seems to have relaxed by this news, shaking his head. "And they didn't even think to wait for us."

__________

As much as Obi-Wan was hoping he would have the time to use the Force to cushion his own fall, he supposes slamming into a wall of ice and snow works as well. The sudden change of medium surprises him, as he was expecting to reach out for a durasteel wall.

The impact knocks the wind out of him completely, and for a few long moments, he's worried he'll blackout. Pins and needles run up his arms and legs, but he isn't sure if it's due to the cold or the fall.

Thankfully, the shift of the ship must have caused a blanket of fresh powder to gather in the exact spot he landed, giving him just enough cushioning to keep him conscious. While Anakin might argue this is a moment for him to believe in luck, Obi-Wan would argue that the shard of ice that has embedded itself in his back would beg to differ.

He lies there for a moment, a little afraid to move just yet. Obi-Wan takes a quick assessment of his condition. The shard isn't horribly long-- maybe the length of his thumb, and it seems to have missed his vital organs.

The concern will be for his ribs. He can definitely feel at least one broken-- if not completely shattered-- which could be bad news if he has to move too much.

In summary, he will live. He will be fine once they get off this Force-forsaken wasteland, and an upside to the cold is it will make him numb to the pain for a little while. Nature's anesthetic.

Obi-Wan hears rustling around nearby. He wonders who landed with him-- he's fairly sure he managed to get two to safety on the other side of the blast doors and aid the fall of a third down to the lower levels with him. A moment later, the visor of Commander Cody appears over him.

"General! Are you alright?"

Okay, so Cody is here, meaning Rex and Anakin are above. Sure enough, when he reaches out with the Force, he senses two strong presences nearby. They appear to be uninjured, which is a relief. Obi-Wan lifts his hand, ignoring the sharp pain that comes from his side as he does so. "Quite alright, Cody." The commander helps him to his feet, and Obi-Wan finally gets a better look at their location.

"It seems the ship was resting on a hinge point, and our weight caused it to topple, sir."

"Fantastic," he says dryly. "And conveniently it has deposited us at the mouth of some sort of tunnel or cave."

"Appears so."

"My old master used to tell me there was no such thing as coincidences," he says shaking his head. Of course, a simple recon mission would turn into finding a secret hideaway. The question is, who's hideaway? "Shall we?"

They begin down the hall, Obi-Wan allowing Cody to lead while he covertly tears off pieces of his tunic and stuffs them into the puncture wound to keep pressure. When he's finally satisfied that the makeshift bandage will hold for a little while he catches up with the commander. As they get deeper into the passage, the icy tunnel turns more and more manufactured. Durasteel beams offer supports, and Obi-Wan spots some lighting periodically. Perhaps it is a good thing the lights aren't on... hopefully means nobody is home.

"Who in their right mind would set up shop on Hoth?" Cody says, his teeth obviously chattering under his helmet.

"Probably not someone in their right mind," Obi-Wan smiles. "I suppose it's a desolate location. The chances of being found are very slim."

"Unless a Seppie ship crashes into you. From the looks of the construction, this place has been around for far longer than the ship."

Obi-Wan has a bad feeling about this. Maybe it's skewed by his steadily bleeding wound, but it just seems strange to him that a ship would crash right on top of some sort of secret tunnel. All of Hoth and it reveals this?

Suddenly the lights flicker to life, revealing the tunnel opens up ahead of them into a larger area. He and Cody look up and behind them in surprise.

"What are the odds that was Rex and General Skywalker?" Cody asks, tightening his grip on his blaster.

"I'm optimistic, though, I don't suggest waiting around to find out." Obi-Wan is curious where all of this is leading. They approach the large area, which turns out to be a massive rotunda made entirely of carefully sculpted ice. It's rather grandiose in appearance, but not in practice as his eyes are diverted from the gorgeous ceiling to the remainder of the room. He would expect to see a grand ballroom of sorts, perhaps a dual-staircase traversing delicately down the sides of the slick walls, but no such hidden beauty lies before them.

It's a lab. Operational as of recently from the looks of it. Various tables cluttered with beakers and chemicals make a large U shape in the center of the room, surrounding what seems to be a primitive prototype of a bacta tank.

Most disturbing of all, a tilt-table is bolted to the ground off to the side, its durasteel restraints unlocked, but around the base lies the dark crimson of dried blood. Lots of blood.

"Oh good," Obi-Wan says, sighing deeply. The lab of a mad scientist is not at all what he expected to find (they must be crazy to set up on Hoth of all places). He is unwillingly reminded of a particularly sensitive portion of his padawan years where Qui-Gon was abducted by Jenna Zan Arbor to try and figure out the scientific basis of Jedi powers. He was tortured, his blood drained so he was kept on the very brink of death in hopes for her to study Force healing.

She also took Anakin once. Escaped yet again. Every time they come close to finding her, she manages to slip away. Though it has been years since she was committed to the cause of figuring out how the Force works, he is still uneasy by what he sees. He can't deny the similarities in the set-ups.

Cody walks further into the cavern carefully, but Obi-Wan suddenly feeling a bit weak decides to stay back and watch the tunnel entrance. He watches as the clone commander takes a holovid of the scene, careful to step over the puddles of blood.

"Hard to tell with the cold," Cody says as he finishes his assessment. "But I'd say it's been abandoned about a week."

"Ship crash probably scared them off... Whoever it is."

Cody bends down to take a sample of the blood, but in Obi-Wan's vision there seem to be two of him. He is quite sure they didn't bring a second 212th member though.

Footsteps echo through the tunnel, and his instincts kick in. He grabs his lightsaber, igniting it and whirling around to meet whoever runs after them. The Force is murky now, only confusing him more. Two figures appear from the dim lighting, one in armor and the other with floppy brown hair. Obi-Wan blinks, taking a staggering step forward.

"Master?" he mutters, his lightsaber dropping to his side and rolling away from him.

"Obi-Wan?" the man yells, his name echoing multiple times through the chamber.

"Master watch out! It's Arbor!"

"Obi-Wan!"

He's on his knees, vision tunneling. A hand rests on his back, carefully yet frantically tugging at him to look up but his head is heavy.

"I'm fine," he says as his world is turned upside down and now he's staring at the beautiful ceiling, which is very quickly fading away. "I'm okay."

[thought-42]

Breathe underwater (tune the radio dial)

Star Wars, 1000 words, Cody/Obi-Wan

   It’s the fourth day of negotiations when things start going poorly.

   No.

   It’s the fifth day. Morning. His paper cup of tea is too bitter. Someone says, “We all knew this wasn’t going to work.”

   Someone else yells. There’s a voice cutting in and out on the radio, choppy with static.

   The sky is grey and there’s dry grass prickling his palms and someone crouched over him, black cloth where white armour should be. He tries to look at them but there’s a picnic table behind the face, incongruous to the point of parody, and when he opens his mouth everything tastes like metal.

   Then, it’s dark, and someone is running and his stomach hurts. He thinks of a sack of potatoes. All the trees are upside down.

   He falls asleep. He wakes up.

   He can’t breathe. There’s a scratchy blanket pulled up to his chin and he can hear static, crackling and white and unbroken.

   He says, “My lightsaber,” and someone – Qui-Gon? Anakin? – says,

   "Here. I have it.“

   If he can speak, clearly he can breathe. He supposes things can’t be too bad if he can breathe and he hasn’t lost his lightsaber. He supposes he’s safe.

   Things come in flashes, signals breaking through the static then fading away.

   The pavement under his shoes is cracked and dusty and he can’t seem to keep his feet moving properly forward. Every time gravity shifts there’s a hand there to catch him. It’s familiar. He doesn’t fall, but he knew this already.

   The tea he drinks out of the paper cup isn’t bitter, but he coughs it up anyway, body curled in humiliation on a hard plastic seat while sounds bounce weirdly around him, engines and voices and music that is too loud and always the static.

   Then, quiet, but too much movement and the smell of old coffee and sweat and he presses his face into a familiar shoulder and he can breathe so he is safe.

   "Look at me. Just, focus. Just for a second. Look at me.” He trusts that voice with his life so he looks and the flash hurts his eyes but he keeps staring forward until a familiar hand touches his cheek.

   "Ok. It’s ok. You can stop.“

   So he does.

   More movement, rougher, this time. Smell of smoke and something heavy in the air like an explosion and like Anakin but without the death. A child is crying somewhere behind him. It is very bright if he looks to his left.

   "Sir? Obi-Wan?”

   His name.

   He looks to his right and the static snaps, crackles, screeches.

   Obi-Wan wakes up on a bus, in the window seat. Everything is muffled and slightly out-of-focus, his head achy and his eyes hot and sore.

   Cody is to his right, out of armour and he’s done something to his hair. Obi-Wan isn’t wearing his robes, and he doesn’t know how he got here.

   "What–“

   "Shh,” Cody says. “Shh, it’s fine, Obiika, we’re fine. I have our papers. Don’t say anything.”

   Obi-Wan has never heard Cody like this, gentle and exhausted and soothing and Obi-Wan reaches out mentally in an attempt to understand and something is very wrong, because he has never felt Cody so deeply, helplessly terrified, either.

   A woman in an unfamiliar uniform stops beside their seats and Obi-Wan closes his eyes before she gets a good look at him, pretends to be asleep as he listens to the click and hum of the reader when Cody hands over two green data cards. She doesn’t say anything. Cody’s fear doesn’t abate when she moves on.

   "The Council,“ Obi-Wan says, quietly. "The Negotiator.”

   "Communications are all down,“ Cody replies immediately. "They’ve probably forced the ship out of orbit. Everyone else on the team is dead. It’s been half a tenday. You were drugged. You reacted… poorly. I’m hoping if we disappear for long enough they’ll assume we’re dead and drop the comms jammers.”

   Obi-Wan breathes out. “That’s good thinking. How many times have you had to tell me this?”

   Cody laughs tightly. “Four, now.”

   "I’m sor–“

   "Please shut up,” Cody says, then, belatedly, “Sir. It isn’t your fault. The whole mission was a farce. They just wanted to catch a force user.”

   "A rare and unique specimen,“ Obi-Wan says, dryly. It’s hard, keeping his head up, and he thinks all his words are slurring a bit.

   "I’ve been awake too long for this,” Cody says. “Now I’m imagining a fishing line with a tea bag at the end.”

   "There are days it would probably work.“

   "I’m aware. You befriended a fish, didn’t you? And I mean an actual fish, that wasn’t meant to come out so speciest, I know you were friends with a mon Calamari.”

   "I think it was technically a mammal,“ Obi-Wan says thoughtfully. He gets distracted remembering that mission, feels himself sliding out of the present but can’t muster the energy to care. He feels Cody’s fingers combing through his hair and when the static rushes back over him like water –mammal, it was definitely a water mammal– he lets it come because he knows that he is safe.

   The next time he wakes up there is sand all around him and Cody is sitting a few feet away staring into the sunset, cleaning his gun by touch. Everything is silent for the first time in hours. Days. Years. The heat shimmers off the sand and for a moment the light reflects like there’s another sun, trailing behind the first over the horizon.

   Obi-Wan says, "this is how the world ends.”

   His throat is dry. Cody looks at him over his shoulder and for a moment his hair is almost grey and his eyes are hard and sad.

   "I’m hallucinating a little,“ Obi-Wan says, mildly.

   "I know,” Cody says. “You asked about the Council, earlier.”

   The static comes back in a rush, a sandstorm this time. Obi-Wan can hear breathing in the white noise.

   In and out.

   In and out.

   Obi-Wan can’t breathe. He is not safe.

[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.”