Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

23 BBY

Cody Fett has meetings almost every day of the week, held in the grey, utilitarian council room in the west wing of the palace in Sundari. It’s not exactly how he used to imagine things would work, when he was a kid - he was fairly sure that when he would play at being Duke, his games with his brother involved a lot more fighting and executions. That is, they did until he was twelve and his teachers said he was going to need to consider other solutions to his problems besides punching Rex in the nose. He’s still not sure they were entirely right about that particular point, but he hasn’t had occasion to chop any heads off yet, so he guesses he learned something. Still, by any standards, he has too many meetings by half nowadays.

At least this one is looking interesting (in the most relative sense), because they’ve received a communication asking for an alliance, from one of the smaller nearby planets. Stewjon is a resource rich world that orbits its own star - they’ve never been much bother or help to anyone, as they don’t make trade deals and they manage their affairs internally like reasonable people. Their message, however, says they’ve been having increasing difficulties with the inhabitants of one of their moons - they've evidently discovered healthy deposits of gold and kyber on their planet, lately, and oddly enough that kind of wealth tends to draw thieves. Apparently, Stewjon wants to make an alliance with Mandalore: a near-exclusive trade deal in exchange for protection.

Cody figures they have the right idea - they don't have much of an army of their own, so they can't defend against major threats, but the backing of a planet like Mandalore would solve that problem. Quite thoroughly. Since his buir united the clans, some ten years ago, Mandalore has regained much of its former strength. Cody suspects that they wouldn’t even have to do much, if they allied with Stewjon - their reputation alone is still good enough to discourage most enemies. And Mandalore’s a little short on agricultural resources (constant war makes it a little hard to grow things, apparently), so this could be good.

“Do we really want to get re-involved with interplanetary politics by making an alliance with this particular planet?” Ursa Wren, one of Cody’s advisors, asks, wrinkling her nose a little. Her dark hair is twisted into a tight bun, and despite the doubtful question, she looks calm and serious. “I’m not disagreeing that it seems mutually beneficial, but we’ve been being careful for a reason.”

“With that in mind, this seems like exactly the right way to get re-involved,” Cody says, wryly. “They’re not part of the Republic and they’re hardly a threat. We could use their resources, and we don’t have to do much except have an army. Which we do.”

“All very simple,” Ruusaan says, a bit flat, raising an eyebrow, “but you’re forgetting that to commit our forces to someone else’s cause, they must be connected to our people. Clan ties would have to be made. That is our tradition. I’m not sure this alliance would be worth it.”

Cody makes a noncommittal noise, considering - she’s right, he’d almost forgotten. The way things had always been done, when other peoples wanted to ally with Mandalore for their armies (which used to happen very frequently, in some form or other), is that someone from the ruling class or family on Mandalore would marry someone prominent from the people who wanted to ally with them - if you wanted Mandalore’s weapons, you had to make ties with its people. That was how it always worked in the past, and Cody doesn’t intend to upset old traditions just because he’d rather not deal with them. It’s a well-based tradition, after all - allit ori’shya tal’din. Clan is more than blood. If he were to agree to this alliance, it would be through the traditional means.

“Maybe it’s not,” Cody concedes, thoughtfully. “But I want to discuss it with them all the same. If they’re offering us enough, it might be worth it - it seems this decision relies primarily on my preference.”

“It does seem that way,” Ruusaan says, thin lips quirking up just a little. She always intimidates Cody, just a little - her eyes, bright grey and sharp, set deep in a tanned, lined face, always seem to see just a little more than he’d like. He’s always felt that she finds his leadership somewhat lacking, although she’s never indicated as much. That makes her the right sort of person to have for an advisor, he thinks - she doesn’t let him get comfortable.

“In that case, Elick, can you draft a response to their message asking what sort of trade deal they had in mind? Send it to me when it’s done and I’ll look it over,” Cody says, nodding at his friend Elick Rook - small, thin, and sharp-eyed behind narrow-rimmed glasses. Elick salutes loosely in acknowledgement. “Thank you. In that case I suggest we move on to our less interesting topics.” Cody closes the new message with a quiet sigh.

Meetings. Got to kriffing love them.

Rex tells Cody he’s crazy for even considering the possibility of a political marriage because Rex is secretly something of an idealist. “Come on, Codes, are you serious?” he asks, pulling his helmet off as the two of them sit down for a late lunch. They like to eat at a side table in the library, bringing their food away from the dining hall and kitchen to the quiet, private space. Today they have bowls of stew and thick bread, and Cody sets his bowl down on the smooth table and glances around at books old enough to be printed on paper, mixed with holobooks on clean shelves. Rex sits too, holding a cup of caf between his hands. He is five years younger, Captain of the Guard and the official representative of the Fett clan when it’s required of him, and the dumbest little brother anyone could have. “Buir would smack you, but he’s not here, so I just might.” Jango’s mostly gone, these days, chasing after bounties and working on some kind of personal project. Rex somehow thinks that means he gets to boss Cody around now.

“It’s not that big of a deal, vod, gods,” Cody sighs, rubbing his face and kicking Rex under the table. “I didn’t even say I would do it.”

Rex rolls his eyes, scratching at his close-cropped blond hair. His armor is painted like their buir’s, mostly, except Rex likes doing more interesting designs with the blue paint than Jango usually does. They’re getting faded, Rex’s going to have to repaint them. “Yeah, but knowing you, you’re going to.”

“If I do, it’s because it’s a good idea, Rex,” Cody huffs, and stirs the bowl of soup he got for himself. “They have all kinds of useful natural resources and we wouldn’t even have to do anything for it.”

“Except get fekking married.”

“So what? You’re the one that even wants to get married, remember? I didn’t volunteer you.”

Rex snorts and scowls. “Oh, that makes it way better, ori’vod.”

“Oh for kriff’s sake, just shut up.” Cody takes a big bite of his lunch. “If I wanna trap myself in a politically convenient marriage so we can eat fresh fruit more often, I’ll do it, and you can pretend to like it.”

Rex glares at him and shakes his head. “You’re a dumbass,” he pronounces, “and if you decide to marry some di’kut from a backwater planet called kriffing Stewjon, I’m not going to your kriffing wedding.”

“It’s not backwater,” Cody points out, tiredly, rolling his eyes. “And I can order you to show up, you know.”

“Well, I don’t give a shit,” Rex says, with an air of finality. “This is the worst gods-damned idea I’ve ever heard, and I’m not changing my mind.”

Cody figures if he does get married, Rex is going to have to change his mind. But he lets that go for the time being, because Rex is just being dramatic, and anyway, he wants to eat.

He has never thought much about marriage, or expected much from it, but in the Mandalorian vows, the traditional ones, there’s a promise to share everything. Cody thinks he’d appreciate that, with the right sort of person. But other than that, he could take or leave the idea. A small enough price to pay, he thinks, for a beneficial alliance.

~~~

The Jedi Council had raised many questions and concerns when Obi-Wan had declared he wished to be more involved in his  homeworld's politics; after a staunch debate, in which Obi-Wan informed them that no, it would not interfere with his ability to train Anakin or go on missions, the Council sighed and threw up their collective hands and said fine.

And that's how Obi-Wan ended up the Minister of Interplanetary Affairs for Stewjon - a small position that nonetheless made great use of Obi's negotiation skills. He hadn't expected much else out of the position, so the comm he's staring at now is… surprising, to say the least.

Oh, in a perfectly political way it makes sense; he is, after all, the primary person in his government that deals with alliances. But he'd expect people to take into account the fact that as a Jedi, he is forbidden from forming attachments and… getting married.

Even if it is a politically convenient marriage that would ensure Mandalore's backing - which had been his own idea in the first place.

The Force, Obi-Wan thinks, is laughing at him.

“This is, without a doubt, the most outdated, archaic custom I've ever seen,” Obi-Wan announces to the empty air of his Jedi Temple quarters.

The empty air answers back, in a voice sounding suspiciously like Anakin, not meditating like he's supposed to be. “I told you not to get into politics, Master.”

“Anakin,” Obi says on a long exhale, “spare me the commentary.”

There's a rustle of fabric, and then Anakin's door opens and his head pokes out. “Then spare me your commentary,” he says. And smirks.

Obi-Wan buries his face in his hands and prays to the Force for patience.

“So,” Anakin continues, Force preserve him, “what exactly are you talking about?”

“That,” Obi-Wan says wryly, “is none of your business, my young padawan. Didn't you tell me once just how much you despise politics?”

“Maybe I've changed my mind,” his insufferable teenage charge says, with another one of those cocky sideways smirks that never seem to be far from his mouth these days. Teenagers, honestly. Obi-Wan was never this bad, was he?

“Or maybe you're just nosy,” Obi says. “This is classified, Anakin.” He pauses, then raises an eyebrow and adds, “And in any case, you're supposed to be meditating on, what was it? Ahh, yes, the wisdom of trying to levitate worms into Master Windu's underpants.”

“That was not my idea,” Anakin mutters.

“One would have thought that after nine years, you'd learn that using your superior control to help the younglings prank the Council never ends well,” Obi-Wan says with a sigh. “Go on, back to your meditation,” and he waves a hand at Anakin's face. “I have to go speak with the Council.”

The Council, understandably, is less than pleased with the arrangement.

“This would be a serious breach of the Code,” Master Windu says, tiredly, rubbing at his forehead with one hand. “I understand you feel a duty to your homeworld, Knight Kenobi, but a political marriage is out of the question. A Jedi is not to have commitments outside the Order.”

“I'm aware,” Obi-Wan says, steadily. “However, the Code only forbids attachments, and if Master Mundi is allowed to maintain several marriages without forming attachments, I don't see why I can't do the same. We both must bend the Code for our worlds’ sakes.”

There's a long moment of silence, in which the Masters look at each other; Obi-Wan tucks his hands inside the sleeves of his robe and waits. In the end, of course, the Order is his first priority - if the Council refuses him, then so be it.

“Allow this marriage, we will,” Master Yoda says. “But approve, we do not. Your first priority, the Order must remain, Knight Kenobi.”

Obi bows, slightly. “Understood,” he says. “I will deliver my answer to the Stewjon government immediately.”

The entire Council bows their heads in return, and Obi-Wan turns on his heel and leaves the chamber, already composing his reply in his head.

~~~

Cody receives Stewjon’s final reply while he’s in the middle of dinner with Rex and Boba - Boba has finished his lessons for the day and is complaining about one of his teachers while Cody peruses a few important items on his datapad.

They’ve been communicating for a few weeks, he and Stewjon’s minister of interplanetary affairs - one Obi-Wan Kenobi. Cody’s decision to extend a contingent offer of alliance had been a fairly easy one, when he was told what sort of trade deals could be made. Cody had sent his response: Mandalore would be pleased to ally with Stewjon, provided they wouldn’t object to arranging a political marriage between one of their officials and himself. It was how they cemented such alliances, Cody had explained, and sent the message off. He had expected to get a dismissal, in truth - from what he understood, Stewjon was a democratic little planet, and likely to think the proposal was… old-fashioned.

Cody wouldn’t have been hurt if that had been the response. He could take or leave the agreement, for the most part.

But, it appears he had incorrectly estimated Stewjon - the new message, politely worded and pragmatic, says that the alliance can proceed on those grounds, if it’s necessary. What sort of preparations are needed for something along those lines? Cody sets his datapad down and snorts a little, reaching for his glass of milk (having already finished his meal).

“Well, guess what,” Cody says, wryly, causing Rex and Boba to look up at him from their own dinners, “I’m getting married.”

“Haar’chak,” Rex swears, setting his fork down and crossing his arms on the table. “Cody, for kriff’s sake, this is such a waste of time.”

“Yeah,” Boba agrees, sullenly, imitating Rex’s gesture. “What’s even the point?”

Cody sighs. “I’ve been over this. With both of you di’kut’ike. Stewjon has stuff we want. We have stuff they want. Sometimes, when that’s the case, Mandalorians get married so everyone gets what they want. Can you just keep up?”

“Oh, shut the hells up,” Rex snaps. Cody thinks maybe the patronizing tone annoyed him. Who would have thought. “You keep saying you don’t care, but you’re just gonna marry somebody you don’t even know for a trade deal we’ve never needed before? That’s a bunch of banthashit.”

“It’s not your life, Rex, get over it.”

“It kind of is,” Boba points out, still sounding vaguely pissed. “We’re stuck with whoever you marry too, you know.”

“Shut up, vod’ika,” Cody says, and reaches over to steal a cookie off Boba’s plate. “I don’t think you’ll see much of them anyway if you can’t start actually listening to your teachers.”

Boba mutters something that sounds suspiciously like “asshole,” and Rex punches his shoulder.

“Language!”

“You swear all the time, Rex!”

“You’re a kid, you can’t swear yet.”

“Watch me.”

“Vode,” Cody says, dryly, “Just ne’johaa, for once, would you?”

“Why, so you can talk to your new riduur?” Boba says, rolling his eyes and propping his chin on his hands.

Rex snorts. “Yeah, it’s not gonna last. They’re gonna show up and see your shit face and decide to call it off.” He grins a little. Cody doesn’t point out that he and Rex look a little too damn similar for Rex to be calling him ugly.

“You’d hate that,” Cody mutters, reading over the message again and then opening a new one of his own to draft a reply. He supposes he should tell Ruusaan about this new development - he doesn’t really know how to do this, so she’s been helping him work through the entire process. He thinks she finds it a little amusing.

He’s going to have to contact his buir and explain this - he thinks Jango might have a good laugh at him too.

For the next week or so, Cody discusses the plans with Kenobi - it seems the minister himself is going to be Cody’s riduur, which makes logical sense. There are things to do here, in preparation, too - frankly, Cody doesn’t know half of what’s going on, and Ruusaan is more or less running things because she tells him it will “take less time” if she doesn’t have to drag him around to help. She’s probably right, too.

There’s some discussion with Kenobi about the expectations involved as far as the marriage itself, and Cody half expects him to back out when he explains that most people would expect him to take an active, or at least somewhat helpful, role in their government. Nobody, least of all Cody, has interest in leaving Kenobi to sit around in a corner and entertain himself when he could actually be contributing. But Cody’s still a little surprised this plan was agreed to in the first place.

Rex is being ridiculous about the whole thing still. Sometimes Cody seriously considers punching him in the face and telling him to grow up. But since Rex would probably just punch him back, he hasn’t given into the temptation. Yet.

Cody has to see the tailor so they can make sure he has appropriate clothes for the wedding - because he cares a lot about that, or is supposed to, he guesses? There’s talk about the feast for afterward and Ruusaan asks him if he’s going to be exchanging armor with Kenobi.

“It’s tradition,” she says.

“I know,” Cody answers. “But I didn’t think to bring it up, and anyway, I’m guessing he wouldn’t have much use for it.” Considering Kenobi is probably a proper politician and not particularly interested in fighting to begin with.

Ruusaan lets that issue go.

Cody finds himself getting almost anxious as the day approaches when Kenobi’s actually supposed to arrive (a few days before the date of the wedding itself). Not that there’s anything to be particularly anxious about - just some vows, and a feast, and then hopefully a partnership of some kind with his riduur. He just hopes Kenobi’s somebody he can at least get along with and respect, if he’s going to be stuck with him.

As Cody understands it, if he wanted, he could always find himself a consort and nobody would care, as long as he was still respectful of his riduur - but Cody doesn’t feel very comfortable with that idea. So right now, he really just hopes Kenobi is fekking nice.

~~~

The Council had been even less approving than before when Obi-Wan had told them of the expectation that he would take part in the day-to-day governance of Mandalore - Masters Ti, Tiin, and of course Windu had been the most vocal about their displeasure.

“How are you supposed to remain active in the Order when you’re entangled in planetary politics for a system that’s only nominally part of the Republic?” Master Tiin had asked, sharply gesturing with one hand.

“I intend to ask if Anakin can remain with me until his Knighting,” Obi-Wan had said, calmly, “and I will still be available to run missions. I’m also considering this an opportunity - a chance to right the wrongs of Galidraan. I may be acting in my official capacity as a politician, but this is a chance for the Jedi to make up for what we did to the Mandalorian people.”

“We are concerned,” Windu had said, then, steepling his fingers together in front of his face. “You are one of the brightest young Knights in the Order at this time, and we have been watching you closely, Kenobi - you’re being considered for Mastership and a seat on this Council, should one appear. This… marriage could derail everything.”

“Including your training of young Skywalker,” Shaak Ti had added. “Have you forgotten he is the Chosen One?”

Obi had sighed, rubbed a hand across his beard, and said, “I am not likely to forget my duty, Masters, seeing as how it was sealed by my Master’s blood.”

That had hushed them all quite nicely - Obi-Wan is still proud of it. Even though the mention of Qui-Gon’s death hurts, as it always does.

Now, however, he faces a much more trying problem: Anakin.

“I get to come, right, Master?” Anakin asks, leaning against the doorframe of his room - this set of rooms will remain reserved for their use when at the Temple, until the date of Anakin’s Knighting (which Obi is certain is in the near future).

“Yes, Anakin,” Obi-Wan says, although he’s fairly sure Anakin’s already packed everything he could possibly need (knowing Anakin, he’s included two sets of robes, a week’s worth of underwear and socks, and filled the rest of the space in his bags with droid parts, oil and grease, tools, random scrap metal, and bits of machinery Obi’s fairly sure his padawan picked up from the junkyard). “Although, as I’ve explained, I’m not sure they’ll allow you to stay. Mandalorians don’t exactly appreciate Jedi.”

“Right,” Anakin says, nodding very sagely. “Because of… Galareen?”

“Galidraan,” Obi-Wan says, with a tired sigh. “At least you bothered to read the article I sent you.”

“I skimmed it?” Anakin shrugs one shoulder. “I got the gist. Mandalore asked for help, Jedi answered but got… manipulated? and attacked the wrong people, now Mandalore hates us.”

“A succinct summary, yes,” Obi-Wan says.

“In that case, shouldn’t you have, y’know, told them you’re a Jedi before the marriage thing?”

One of these days, Obi-Wan really is going to force his padawan to pay attention to some of his lessons. “Anakin,” he says, exasperated, “I’m acting as an official representative of Stewjon in this matter, not as a representative of the Jedi Order. And I’ve explained this to you before. Get your things, we need to go.”

He was right; Anakin is already packed, as evidenced by the fact he only disappears for about thirty seconds before reappearing with a bag slung over his shoulder and another in his hand. “Yeah, and it makes just as much sense this time as it did last time. What if this Duke doesn’t want to marry you because you’re a Jedi?”

Obi-Wan shrugs one shoulder, picking up his own bags. “Then I suppose Stewjon’s government will either find a replacement, or search elsewhere for protection. Not to worry, though - the Duke seems like a solid leader, and I have a feeling he’ll be able to reconcile his distrust of Jedi with his duty.” He steps forward, through the main door of their suite and out into the hallway, aiming for the hangar and the Republic shuttle ready to carry him and his padawan to their new future. “Don’t worry too much, Anakin - I think you’ll fit in with their culture.”

“You called their culture uncivilized and archaic!”

Obi-Wan raises an eyebrow. “Oh, did I? Why, then, my dear padawan, you should easily understand how you’ll fit in.”

He leaves Anakin standing behind him, spluttering, reaching for a comeback, and only lets himself smirk when he knows his padawan cannot see him.

Anakin’s only response is a strong kriff you across their training bond. Obi just smiles, silently chides Anakin for the snapped string of Huttese he can hear echoing through the hallway behind him, and keeps walking.

They’re almost to the hangar before Anakin speaks again. “Are you going to tell them you’re fluent in the national languages of all the major galactic powers, including Mando’a?” he asks, and Obi-Wan’s smirk, which had only just died away, returns in full force.

“Oh, eventually,” he says. “I’m sure it will… come up. But the first rule of politics is to never show your hand early in the game.”

This time, Anakin’s silence is thoughtful, and it lasts even as they make the jump into hyperspace.

Mandalore awaits.

~~~

Cody shifts on the hard, flat seat of his throne and just stops himself from adjusting the sleeves of his coat for the thousandth time. He’d opted not to wear his armor, for today, considering this is a strictly diplomatic meeting, but gods, he prefers to have it. He’d also rather have his blaster on him, but as it is, he just has a knife in his boot and his darksaber tucked into his belt. That’s not exactly small protection, but still. A couple of layers of fancy grey fabric wouldn’t do him much good in an emergency.

He shifts again, gives up and tugs on his coat, glancing at the two advisors standing on his right - Elick and Ruusaan. Ruusaan meets his eyes with a tiny, amused smile.

Cody sighs and looks back down at his lap, folds his hands, and exhales very slow and controlled. Patience has never been his forte.

Abruptly, his commlink pings and Rex says, “Hey, vod, I know the plan was to bring Kenobi and the others to meet you, but I think we need to revise the plan.”

“Why’s that?” Cody sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“Kenobi showed up on a Republic ship,” Rex says, and Cody stiffens a little, “and he’s a jetii, Codes, so I’m not sure this isn’t an elaborate set-up.”

“Okay, I’m coming. Is anything else looking off?”

“Not really - he brought another jetii with him, though; his padawan apparently. Everyone else just looks like your standard politician.”

Cody pushes himself to his feet, curses his decision not to wear armor as unwise after all, and makes his way out to the landing pad. His Guard is stationed around the entrance to the palace and part of the landing pad, visibly tense, and Rex and a few others are standing by the Republic ship that has apparently recently docked. And, sure enough, there are two jetiise there too, and Cody assesses them quickly as he goes to join Rex.

The taller of the two is blue-eyed and blond, short-haired, in a brown robe that’s too big for him, and he’s currently scowling at one of Rex’s men, which isn’t particularly promising, but his saber is still on his belt so Cody doesn’t worry too much.

The other is, presumably, Kenobi: shorter, with coppery hair and a beard, both in near-perfect order. His stance is comfortable, easy - and he looks completely fed up with his taller companion, silver-blue eyes bright and sharp with irritation. Rex glances at Cody with a small, barely-perceptible shrug as if to say I don’t know either.

“Anakin, please for once actually attempt to be diplomatic,” Kenobi’s saying, in Basic, “and if you can’t manage that, at least be quiet.”

“They started it-” the other jetii, Anakin apparently, tries, then switches tacks with a glare. “I know, I know, Master, you can stop giving me that look now, I’ll be nice.” He crosses his arms, and Cody sighs a little and decides to stop this nonsense before anybody else has anything to say.

“You’re Obi-Wan Kenobi, I assume?” he asks, flatly, smiling just a little.

“I am,” answers Kenobi, returning the smile. “I apologize for all the…” He gestures rather vaguely at himself and his companion, who’s still glaring, and Cody raises an eyebrow. “I have chosen to take an active role in my homeworld’s politics, and that is the capacity in which I am acting at this moment in time.”

Cody’s not sure what the apology is even for, although one would hope that it’s for the rather obvious communication failure. He can practically feel Rex rolling his eyes. “The appropriate time to tell me that would have been anytime before now, quite frankly,” he says. “I hope you don’t mind if I have my Guard search your ship.”

“I told you, Master,” Anakin says, although Kenobi acts as if he hasn’t heard him. Cody didn’t expect his day to go like this.

“It’s only the smart thing to do,” Kenobi says, mildly. “Although I can assure you, you won’t find anything problematic.”

“I appreciate the assurance,” Cody answers.

Rex snorts a little, then signals for a few of his men to survey the ship.

Cody tucks his hands behind his back and is quiet. His people do not have a good history with the jetiise, and Cody doesn’t particularly appreciate Kenobi’s decision not to mention what he was at any point during their correspondence. Cody learned his history sitting with his buir in their rooms, including the story about the day the jetiise killed some three hundred of their people, leaving only Jango and their old weapons trainer as survivors. It was a mistake, his buir had told him, and a trick. But everyone knew that didn’t really matter.

In any case, if this Jedi learned the same history Cody did, he should have known better than to give them no warning.

Cody doesn’t think anyone’s going to approve of this, after all.

~~~

Cody Fett turns out to be a tall, dark-haired, serious young man, with wary, warm gold-brown eyes, a scar curling around one eye, and a confident, assured stance. He’s neatly dressed in grey, which serves the dual purpose of looking professional and looking nice - Obi-Wan has to admit, his husband-to-be is handsome.

Obi-Wan still believes that his status as a Jedi was mostly irrelevant to the negotiations - which, after all, were based on his position as a minister in the Stewjonian government - but perhaps he should’ve brought it up, anyway. If only to give the Duke an easier way to opt out of the alliance.

Obi still stands by his belief that Cody Fett can put duty in front of whatever worries he may have.

After a moment of silence, he sighs and shifts a bit, noting idly that the remainder of the Guard around him and Anakin tenses at the slight motion. “I suppose I should introduce my padawan,” he says, gestures with one hand at Anakin. “This is Anakin Skywalker.”

“A pleasure,” Cody says, smiling just a little bit.

Is it really? Anakin pushes across the training bond, and it takes most of Obi’s self-control to keep from rolling his eyes.

I told you to be nice.

I am being nice! … where they can hear me.

Sometimes, Obi-Wan thinks Anakin’s learned too much about technicalities.

The Mandalorian soldiers inspecting their shuttle return, after another moment; one steps forward, says, in Mando’a, “Sir, the shuttle is clean.”

Obi-Wan keeps his expression blank as the Captain (or so he assumes) responds, ordering the soldiers to keep watch for a trick of some sort, no small amount of hostility in his tone. He is, apparently, not fond of Jedi. Ah, well - Obi-Wan expects most of the planet to be the same.

He doesn’t really think the Duke will want him involved in the day-to-day government anymore, which he supposes is a blessing, even if he was interested by the prospect of it. The Council will certainly approve much more if this entire marriage is just an assurance for a treaty and nothing else; if Obi-Wan can continue to stay on Coruscant as is typical.

“I appreciate your patience with our precautions,” the Duke says. Obi-Wan thinks he looks like a good ruler - and he’s done enough research on Mandalorian customs to be familiar with the squarish hilt tucked in the Duke’s belt. Everything surrounding the darksaber had been fascinating - perhaps Cody won’t mind if Obi-Wan asks some questions about it later. “If you want to come with me, we can go inside and discuss- this a little further.”

Obi nods. “That sounds appropriate,” he says, with a slight smile, steps forward to follow behind Cody as he turns and starts for the entrance to Sundari’s biodome. Anakin falls in at Obi-Wan’s shoulder, as always, and the man Obi-Wan had assumed to be the Captain of the Guard steps up to walk beside the Duke.

Before they step onto the flat speeders that will apparently take them through the entrance to the city, Cody slows down a bit and nods at the man walking beside him. “This is my Captain of the Guard-” so Obi was right “-and my younger brother, Rex.”

Rex doesn’t look too pleased, but he doesn’t outright say anything, and Obi-Wan nods at him. “A pleasure to meet you,” he says, lightly, with a small smile.

Anakin has apparently produced some wires, gears, and small scraps of durasteel from his pockets - honestly - and is tinkering with them.

“Likewise,” Rex mutters.

Anakin, put those away.

“Master-” Anakin starts, and Obi-Wan turns and raises an eyebrow at him. He flushes, mutters under his breath, an assortment of likely swears in Huttese, and then drops his droid bits back into his pocket. Fine.

“Thank you,” Obi-Wan says, and then follows Cody onto the speeder.

Anakin and Rex come as well, and the speeder races away from the landing platforms, into Sundari itself; the pictures on the HoloNet really didn’t do it justice, Obi thinks, looking around curiously. It’s a surprisingly fragile city, for a world of warriors he’d expected to lack appreciation for art. Perhaps it’s a reminder, not to judge so preemptively - but then again, he’d done his research in the Jedi Archives. He hadn’t expected bias from the Jedi, but when Mandalorians are the subject of the research… perhaps. There are many years of enmity there.

At least, he supposes, he’s not having to deal with Jango Fett, former Mand’alor, the one who united the clans some ten years previous, and one of two survivors of the Galidraan disaster. It’s the little things.

“Master,” Anakin says quietly, and Obi-Wan glances at him, “it’s all built for defense.”

Obi-Wan nods. “You’re right, but how can you tell?”

“You could put snipers in the upper levels,” Anakin says promptly. “The streets are narrow and twisting, so an invasion wouldn’t be able to find their way through very easily, and could be ambushed a lot.” He pauses, considering, and Obi smiles encouragingly. It’s a routine they’ve gone through since Anakin was old enough and skilled enough to go on missions - honing his observational skills by attempting to teach him to use a place to learn about its people. “Unless they had a way to go through the air.”

“But you can’t get a ship through the biodome entrance,” Obi-Wan points out, and Anakin nods, considering.

“And if you used jetpacks, that’d probably be stupid, since everyone knows Mandalorians are good with jetpacks.” Anakin nods, satisfied.

“Very good. Did you notice anything else?” Anakin shakes his head, and Obi smiles a bit. “All the glass. You don’t put glass in a place that’s experiencing constant street fights - it breaks easily and requires too much cleanup.”

Anakin tilts his head to one side. “So the planet’s at peace. Because the clans are united, so they aren’t fighting everywhere anymore.” He frowns, considering, and then grins. “Master, it’s really cool that you can figure all this stuff out just by looking at a place.”

“Observational skills, my young padawan,” Obi-Wan says, smiling.

At that moment, of course, Cody turns to them both, slightly wary - although he’s smiling just a little bit. “Is there a reason you two are discussing my city’s defenses? Should I be concerned?” He sounds more curious than hostile, for which Obi-Wan is grateful.

“It’s a teaching exercise,” he explains, tucking his hands behind him. “Anakin’s observational skills are… lacking,” Anakin interjects a background hey! at that, but Obi ignores him, “and I’ve developed the habit of asking him to tell me what he can learn about a people from observing their world.”

And he may be on a diplomatic mission of importance to his homeworld, but he will not allow that to interfere with his teaching. As he told the Council, after all - his priority is to the Jedi, and he is not likely to forget his duty anytime soon, the promise his Master extracted with his last breath.

~~~

Rex had been complaining to Cody about the marriage again, so he's glad for something else to talk about - yes, thank you, Rex, he knows he didn't sign up to marry a Jedi. The fact remains that they had an agreement and everything's in place for this alliance, most likely, Cody will go ahead with the plan unless his advisors object. He suspects Ursa won't approve, but she should see the practicality. He's mostly concerned about Cato Skirata, arguably the most bullheaded of his advisors, although he's a strategic genius. Making clan ties with a Jedi might be a mistake, after all - but then, supposedly Kenobi is acting in role as a Minister in Stewjon's government, so as long as Cody's not expected to treat this as an alliance with the Jedi as well, he doesn't see too many reasons to call things off.

“That's an interesting idea,” Cody says, to Kenobi, ignoring Rex's clear annoyance. “Although most of that you could have learned just as easily from a search on the HoloNet.” He smiles a little and clasps his hands behind his back.

“You're correct,” Kenobi says, “and I personally did my research - but getting Anakin to actually read something is… difficult.” Cody fights back a smile as Anakin makes an offended face. “Besides, the point of the exercise is learning to observe your surroundings, whether that's for an edge in diplomacy or a fight.”

“Not a bad idea, then,” Cody observes, mildly, and nods. “It’s generally good to be as informed as possible.” Especially when you’re marrying somebody.

Anakin mutters something under his breath about getting along just fine, and Cody struggles not to roll his eyes.

“Apparently, unless you’re Anakin,” Kenobi says, shooting a sharp look at his padawan. It occurs to Cody that if it weren’t for a couple glaring differences, Anakin and Rex would get along.

“This is just fekking great,” Rex says, in Mando’a, flatly, and Cody ignores him and tunes his commlink to Ruusaan’s frequency.

“Ruusaan,” he says, “I’m going to need the rest of the advisors in the throne room. It appears my riduur is supposed to be a jetii and I suspect everyone’s going to want to go over the agreement again.”

There’s a long pause, during which Cody suspects Ruusaan is pinching her nose and wishing Jango were still in charge around here, then she answers, dry. “Of course, your highness.”

“Thank you.” Cody looks at Rex, says, “Stop looking at me like that, don’t think I don’t know what you’re thinking over there.”

“Kriff off.”

Cody sighs and turns his attention back to Kenobi. “I hope you understand, but I’m going to have to discuss our alliance with my advisors again before we can proceed. I’m not entirely sure they’ll continue to agree with this course of action, given your position.” Which you never bothered to mention before.

“Of course, I understand,” Kenobi says, with a gracious nod. Then he turns to shoot Anakin a sharp look, and says quietly, “I am going to completely block you out.”

Cody snorts and steps up to stand by Rex as their speeder pulls up outside the palace, and he taps his knuckles on his vod’ika’s pauldron. “You’re gonna have to get over yourself,” he says quietly. “At least pretend to be good at diplomacy for once.”

Rex sighs, but doesn’t say anything else - just stands still while Cody, and then Kenobi and Anakin, step out of the speeder, and then follows them.

Cody ends up walking beside Kenobi, keeps half an eye on him. He can’t decide if this is better or worse than what he’d been afraid of - he’d expected to end up with a stringy, anemic politician for a riduur. Instead he might be marrying a Jedi, whose shoulders at least look strong under the layers of his robes and his eyes are ice-blue and sharp. Probably better than a politician. Probably.

They make their ways through the arched, gold-washed hallways of the palace, past stained glass windows and mosaics. When they walk into the throne room, his advisors are already all waiting, talking quietly amongst themselves. They stop as Cody and the others come closer, and there’s a collective, concerted effort on their parts to keep their expressions neutral. Cato and Riska, Cody’s friend, have a harder time with that than the rest.

“Thank you all for coming,” Cody says, politely, smiling a little. “This is-” apparently, “-Jedi Knight Obi-Wan Kenobi.” He glances at Kenobi and gestures. “These are my advisors. Ruusaan Itera, Bo-Katan Kryze, Riska Jendri,” he gestures at each as he names them, “Cato Skirata, Ursa Wren, and Elick Rook.” They all nod, although Bo-Katan doesn’t look like she wants to extend even that courtesy.

“A pleasure to meet you,” Kenobi says, with a neat, polite bow. “Although you can do away with the title, as I’m not acting in an official capacity as a Jedi at this time.”

“It remains relevant,” Cody answers, dryly. “Personally, I’m willing to go ahead with our agreement, provided it’s understood that we are not tying ourselves to the Jedi.” He addresses the comment to both his advisors and Kenobi.

“Saying this would not tie us to them doesn’t make it so,” Ruusaan points out, giving him a look and then turning her sharp eyes on Kenobi, evaluating. “And I’m sure you realize, you would find that many of your people wouldn’t approve.”

“Like your buir,” Bo-Katan snaps, pointedly.

Cody gives her a look, signs stand down because that’s not helpful. “I never agreed to commit our forces to the Jedi and that’s not what’s being asked for - correct?” He glances at Kenobi, who nods.

“Correct - a treaty has been drafted, contingent on the marriage remaining valid, promising the exclusive trade in exchange for protection. The Jedi and the Republic do not factor in.”

“And you didn’t see fit to tell us this before now,” Ursa says, calmly, and Ruusaan nods agreement. “If it didn’t matter, one would think you’d have had no qualms about mentioning it. Considering your Order’s history with our people.”

Bo-Katan looks like she wants to say something, but her face just twists in a scowl and she crosses her arms. Cody makes a mental note to thank her later for her restraint.

“Probably not the best time to mention it,” Anakin interjects, to Kenobi, and Cody hears Rex scoff a little, “but it’s great when I’m right.”

Kenobi, as he seems to be doing quite frequently, gives Anakin a tired look, then sighs and looks back at Cody’s advisors. “One can be both a politician and a member of an Order at the same time, without one affecting the other. I didn’t think it was relevant. I appear to have been wrong - forgive me.”

Anakin looks as if someone’s just handed him an entire cake - Cody’s advisors don’t seem to share the sentiment, although Cody himself appreciates the apology.

“Fine enough,” Rusaan says, looking at Cody. “The fact of it is, Cody, that the decision remains yours. If the Jedi were to mistake this as an alliance with their Order-” Cato and Bo-Katan both look like they want to object, “-I’m sure we could correct the error.”

“You can’t tie yourself and your clan to a gods-damned jetii,” Bo-Katan says, in Mando’a, eyes hard. “You of all people should know that’s a terrible idea, alliance or no alliance.”

“I appreciate your input, Bo-Katan,” Cody says mildly. “But I’ll do as I see fit.” He hesitates, then turns to Kenobi. “I suggest we review the particulars of our agreement again - I believe we can keep it much as it is now. Then I promised my other brother he could meet you.”

Chapter Text

The review of the treaty details only takes a few minutes, although Cody’s advisors don’t really seem to be on board with it - the young redhead, Bo-Katan, continues making sharp comments in Mando’a through the rest of the meeting. Obi-Wan doesn’t react to the comments, continuing to pretend to not speak their language, although it’s difficult with Anakin constantly pestering him for translations across their bond. He has to hide a snort when one of the younger advisors, Riska, makes a comment that it’ll be fine, if he’s a shithead I’ll kill him. As this is said with a very definitely tap on the hilts of her twin vibroknives, Obi-Wan suspects she has a higher opinion of her skills with a blade than is warranted - or a lower opinion of his skills.

In any case, the meeting concludes soon enough, and with the marriage definitively on (which will disappoint the Council, Obi-Wan is sure), Cody informs him that Obi-Wan can meet his youngest brother now. Boba is apparently twelve Standard and has just gotten his first set of armor, and has been in school all day despite being very eager to meet his older brother’s husband.

Obi-Wan suspects Boba isn’t going to be so happy once he sees who his brother is actually marrying.

He follows after Cody, Rex walking with them, while an aide escorts Anakin to a hastily-prepared guest room - Obi-Wan suspects his room will be next to or near Anakin’s. He’s hoping for a decent bed, a window, maybe a potted plant or two, something at least approaching the quiet warmth and hominess of his rooms in the Temple, although he’d never ask for anything so trivial. A place to sleep is more than enough. Besides, the palace is nice, and appears to have a decent-sized library - surely they wouldn’t object to him looking through their archives? It’d be quite interesting to compare Mandalorian history to the accounts in the Jedi Archives.

He’ll have to ask Cody about that later.

Now, though, he forces himself to focus on the task at hand, which is making a (hopefully) good impression on Boba Fett. Cody leads him to a decently-sized room off the main hallway, with chairs and rugs and a desk covered in holonovels and datapads. A skinny preteen in splotchy blue-and-silver armor is leaning over the desk, muttering to himself; he’s got a full head of curly black hair and the same darker skin as his brothers.

“Hey, vod’ika,” Cody says, “you wanted to meet my riduur when they got here, right?” He sounds amused.

Boba spins around in his chair, already looking excited - that is, until his eyes fall on Obi-Wan’s robes, his lightsaber, and then the excitement turns to confusion and almost-disgust. “Ori’vod, what the kriff are you doing with a jetii?” he says in Mando’a, and Obi-Wan keeps his face blank, although he wants to respond.

It’s not the right time to reveal that yet.

Cody smirks a bit when he answers, in Basic still. “Gods, Boba, language. This is Obi-Wan Kenobi. Like I said, he’s gonna be my riduur.”

“He’s a jetii,” Boba says, flatly.

“How perceptive of you,” Obi-Wan says with a smile, tucking his hands inside the sleeves of his robe. “What gave it away, the robes? The impeccable manners?”

Boba curls his lip and says, “Your horrible accent.”

Well. That’s certainly… one way to put it. “Charming,” Obi says. “I must say, I’m impressed - you’re less of a child than some of the diplomats I’ve had to deal with. None of them appreciated my accent either, I’m starting to think it’s a conspiracy.” He smiles a bit more, amused.

Boba narrows his eyes, considering, clearly not sharing the amusement. “You sound like you have a stick up your-” He pauses, shoots Cody a glance, and then finishes, “shebs.”

Obi-Wan laughs at that, surprising himself. “You know, you aren’t the first one to say that,” he says, thoughtfully. “Although most of the people who say that haven’t met the Jedi Council, and if there’s anyone more boring than me in the galaxy, it’s probably Master Windu. I’m pretty sure he does have a stick up his - what’d you call it? Shebs.”

The kid looks away, quickly, but not before Obi-Wan has the chance to see him crack a bit of a smile - which he takes as a success. Although he’s entirely too aware the smile is most likely due to the fact that he, a Jedi, just used the word ass.

Most people seem surprised when a Jedi swears, for some reason. The Force may be a wonderful tool, but it can’t replace the satisfaction of kriff.

“Anyway,” Cody interjects, almost grumpy, “I’m marrying him, so you’re gonna have to actually listen to your teacher and get some manners, di’kut.”

Boba scowls, glares at the wall for a minute. “Rex and I think he’s being a dumbass,” he says, to Obi-Wan. “Even before we knew you’re a jetii.”

“Well,” Obi-Wan says, lightly, “the Jedi Council thinks the same of me, so I suppose we’re-” and he nods at Cody, “-in the same boat. Although I think Anakin is perversely excited about this whole thing.”

“Who’s Anakin?” Boba looks properly interested for the first time.

“My padawan. He’s a few years older than you - I think you’d like him.”

“I don’t like jetiise,” Boba snaps, back to scowling again.

Ah, well. It was worth a try. Obi-Wan just smiles to himself, remembering Anakin as a preteen, prone to pretending he didn’t want any affection whatsoever and then sulking in a corner for hours when Obi-Wan didn’t give him a hug.

Sometimes Obi-Wan misses those days.

Rarely. Anakin was a handful.

Of course, some things never change.

~~~

So far, this is going slightly better than Cody anticipated - Boba is, of course, not a fan of Kenobi being a Jedi, but really this is about the best this meeting could have gone. Cody gives his vod’ika a look, warning, because they are going to talk later. Cody may not be thrilled that his riduur-to-be is a Jedi, either, but he’d prefer his vode to at least be tolerably polite to Kenobi. This is… Kenobi is allit, now, so this is just the way things are going to be.

When Boba’s teacher starts to look irritated that they’re still interrupting his lessons, Cody breaks into the conversation. “Alright, Boba, I think you’ve insulted Kenobi enough for today. We’re gonna go for now.”

Boba mutters under his breath, gets a look from his teacher, and crosses his arms. “Nice to meet you,” he grumbles, to Kenobi, and Cody smiles slightly.

“Likewise,” Kenobi says, with a smile. Boba plops down in his chair and turns his back on them, and Cody snorts a little, then gestures for Kenobi to come with him.

“We have some rooms for you,” he explains, as they leave. “If you want, I can show you to them so you can get comfortable.”

“Alright,” the Jedi answers, and so Cody turns to Rex with a small smile.

“See you at dinner, vod’ika.” It’s a dismissal, but one Rex appears to be thankful for - he throws a loose salute and turns around to, presumably, go check in with his men, who he’s had keeping an eye out in case this was still a trap. Cody suspects they won’t have found anything amiss - which will disappoint Rex. “I don’t know what to tell you about them,” Cody says, quietly, smiling a bit. “They haven’t strictly approved of this plan this whole time, so I wouldn’t take it personally.”

Kenobi, walking with his hands folded behind his back, gives Cody a small, wry smile. “It’s alright, I don’t mind. As far as Boba is concerned, Anakin was that age once too, so I’m quite familiar with how that goes.”

Cody snorts. “He’ll get over it. Probably.” He wants to say everyone else will too, but he doesn’t really know - and he’d rather not bring that up, anyway. Today is something of a diplomatic mess thus far.

Kenobi chuckles, quietly. It’s a nice laugh. Cody thinks he could like Kenobi - Jedi or no. At the very least his riduur will be handsome, although good looks are probably wasted on Jedi.

The suite they’ve set up for Kenobi is across the hallway from Cody’s own, and they will have given Anakin a guest room next to Kenobi’s. Cody leads Kenobi to the door to his suite and pushes the door open, gesturing. “These are your rooms, as long as you’re happy with them - if you have things to get from your ship, I can send some people to get them.”

The suite is, of course, nice - it’s for the Duke’s husband, what else would anyone expect - but Kenobi’s eyes widen and he shifts a little. “This is much more than I was expecting,” he says, in something of a disarmed voice, and Cody finds himself smiling a little at his apparent surprise. “I can get my own things,” he adds. “Don’t worry about it.”

“I’ll send someone,” Cody says, mildly. “In any case, if you and Anakin want to join my brothers and me for dinner, you can.”

“As long as we wouldn’t be intruding on anything,” Kenobi says, with a nod, “I’d be glad to.”

“You wouldn’t be,” Cody says. That’s not strictly true, but Rex and Boba are going to have to get used to somebody else being part of their family. “I can come get you. Just let me know if you need anything.”

“I will.” Kenobi inclines his head. “Speaking of Anakin - I’ll need to talk to you about him at some point.”

“Oh?” Cody nods, encouragingly - they might as well discuss it now. Then he’s going to have to go comm his buir so that Jango doesn’t have to find out that Kenobi is a jetii on the day of the wedding.

Kenobi sighs a little, leaning against the doorway to his rooms, and explains, “Anakin is likely less than a year from his Knighting. Until that happens, I’d… appreciate it if he was allowed to stay on Mandalore so I can continue his training. It would make things much simpler than if he was on Coruscant, especially since so much of our training would require me to be there in-person.”

Cody chuckles a little, despite himself - he imagines Anakin living in the palace could be a real source of entertainment. He doesn’t say that, though. “I’m sure that would be fine. If he’s going to need his own rooms, though, I’ll just need to have those prepared. As long as your training wouldn’t be unduly disruptive to the way things are done here.”

Kenobi shrugs. “We’re both used to sharing much smaller quarters than these,” he says, gesturing at his suite, “although I’m sure Anakin appreciates having some privacy. As far as training goes, as long as no one would be overly upset by our borrowing your training yard for lightsaber forms, it shouldn’t be disruptive.”

Cody wants to wince, at the mention of the training yard - the head weapons trainer and his buir’s oldest friend, Jak Ordo, will not like jetiise being in his space. But Cody can deal with that later, because Jak’s going to have to get used to this just like everyone else. “Fine, then. I have no objections,” and Cody smiles, “and that generally means everyone else agrees. Was that all?”

“Yes, thank you,” Kenobi says, and Cody smiles a little.

“In that case, I have some work to do, so you’ll have to excuse me for a while. I’ll come get you for dinner.”

“Of course,” Kenobi says, with a smile, and Cody nods and turns to go. He has even more to do today, now - but he supposes this all could have been worse.

Still, it’s going to be… interesting, explaining this to his dad.

~~~

The next morning, Obi-Wan drags himself out of the entirely too comfortable bed at his accustomed time, spends a few minutes in the wonderfully private shower, pulls on his tunic and tabard and boots, settles himself cross-legged in the middle of the floor and lets his mind drift into the Force’s comforting currents. As has come to be (unfortunately) typical, the Force is dark and clouded, humming with a feeling of danger, distant and in the future but all the more powerful for it, pulsing with the constant heavy Dark of the Sith Master. Still, through it all, he can feel the Force-signatures of those around him, glowing brightly against the darkness - the brightest of all being Anakin. Who is, Obi-Wan is pleased to feel, awake. Excellent; Obi-Wan won’t have to drag his padawan out of bed for morning training.

The meditation is steadying, centering, if not the most calming today; Obi-Wan pulls himself out of it after a while and stands, stretches the blood back into his muscles and leaves his rooms. Goes to Anakin’s and knocks, with a light mental prod across their training bond.

Anakin grumbles mentally, but comes to the door, in his robes and minus his cloak. “Time to train?” he asks, rubbing at his eyes.

Obi-Wan nods. “The Duke gave me permission yesterday to use their training yard.”

Anakin huffs, then nods, says, “We should go, then.” His padawan braid is messy - he clearly hasn’t redone it this morning. Qui-Gon would’ve scolded.

Although Obi-Wan is still certain Qui-Gon only scolded him about his messy padawan braid because Dooku scolded him.

It’s easy enough to find a guard willing to take them to the training yard, which, despite the earliness of the hour, has a decent amount of soldiers in it, some sparring with vibroknives, some engaged in target practice, others practicing hand-to-hand. An older man with brown hair and a massive, twisted scar covering half his face is overseeing, occasionally calling out feedback or instructions in Mando’a. His face looks vaguely familiar, although Obi-Wan can’t place why.

He pushes the trainer out of his mind, leads Anakin over to an unoccupied corner, flips his saber into his hand. “Katas or a spar?” he asks.

Anakin considers for a minute, debating. “I’ll do a couple Shien katas to warm up, and then practice my Djem So in a spar,” and he nods, decisively. Obi smiles, nods in agreement, steps back a few paces to watch as Anakin ignites his lightsaber and starts stepping through the motions.

“Relax your shoulder,” Obi-Wan says, and Anakin pauses to watch as Obi ignites his own saber and mimics the slash. “Reach into the motion, don’t focus so hard on where the strike ends - let the Force guide you.”

“That’s so unspecific,” Anakin mutters, but he repeats the slash anyway, this time with his shoulder more relaxed. “Oh. That is better, you’re right.”

“I usually am,” Obi-Wan says wryly. Settles back onto his heels again and waits until Anakin steps out of the kata with a sigh and a smile.

“I’m ready now, Master.”

“Good.” Obi-Wan lifts his saber, slides neatly into his opening stance, and says, “Whenever you’re-”

Before he can finish, Anakin attacks.

Good, that’s like Obi-Wan’s told him to do - don’t wait for your opponent to be ready. He parries the heavy, two-handed slash, slides back out of reach, twirls his saber a bit, raises an eyebrow. “Come now, Anakin, I’ve told you not to lead with such an obvious move.”

Anakin attacks again in earnest, and so the spar goes - with Obi-Wan staying on the defensive, relaxed, every move efficient, and Anakin wearing himself out with too much strength in his blows. “Efficiency, Anakin,” Obi-Wan says, sliding out from yet another overhead blow, then lunging back in for a series of close-quarter cuts and slashes that end with Anakin’s saber on the ground a meter or two away. “And keep your guard up, it’s been dropping too much lately.”

He steps back as Anakin swears in Huttese, extends his hand and calls his saber back, igniting the blue blade again. “You make it look so easy,” Anakin says, on the edge of a whine.

“I focus on my technique. And I listen to the Force - that’s half your problem, Anakin, you need to pay as much attention to the Force as to the physical world. The Force is what will allow you to deflect blaster bolts with the greatest accuracy, what will enable you to counter all my strikes.”

“I don’t believe you,” Anakin huffs. “Well, I do about the blasterfire part, but how can you sense a lightsaber?”

Obi-Wan stops, smiles a bit, and reaches into his belt pouch, pulls out a roll of bandages. “Blindfold me.”

“What?”

“Just do it, Anakin,” he says, rolling his eyes. “You don’t believe me that the Force can help you in a duel? Then blindfold me.”

Anakin frowns, but does as he’s asked, a triple layer of bandages wrapping over Obi’s eyes so he can’t see anything through them. “But Master-”

“Don’t go easy on me, either,” Obi-Wan says, igniting his saber again and slipping into his opening stance, closing his eyes and reaching out into the Force. He can sense Anakin’s confusion, the trainer’s irritation, fascination from someone he thinks is Cody - interesting, he hadn’t realized Cody was watching - and equal parts interest and anger from the Mandalorian soldiers watching.

And he can hear the hum of Anakin’s kyber crystal, can sense Anakin’s movement as he lunges forward, definitely not going easy - although he does feel reluctant - and it’s simple enough to twist his wrist to counter, slide under the strike, and one-two-three-four and Anakin’s saber is flying out of his hand. He can feel Anakin rolling away to catch it before it hits the ground. Anakin lunges again, less restrained, and Obi dances back, smiles a bit.

Rolls forward, jumps to his feet and twists around, and before Anakin’s finished following the movement he sweeps his saber in to hover hot and humming at Anakin’s throat.

“Focus,” he says, softly, and with a twist of the Force tugs the blindfold away.

~~~

Cody wakes up earlier than usual to relax for a while in his room before his responsibilities for the day commence. It’s a good thing he does, as well, because just a few minutes after he wakes up, he receives an angry comm from Jak Ordo.

“Cody Fett, there are two jetiise in my training yard. Tell me you have a good explanation for that.”

Cody swears, quietly. He hadn't expected Kenobi to do any training already or he would have spoken to Jak earlier. “I'm sorry, alor. I meant to talk to you - I gave them permission to use the training grounds. Knight Kenobi is the diplomat I'm supposed to be marrying.”

Jak's first response is a string of fierce insults in harsh Mando'a. “Ad, I thought I taught you better than this,” Jak growls, when he’s finished swearing. “They are sparring and I don’t want them here.”

“I gave them permission,” Cody repeats, firmly. “I trust them not to kriff things up.” Well. He trusts Kenobi not to, and he expects Kenobi will manage his padawan.

“I am not responsible for them. We need to talk about this.”

Cody pinches the bridge of his nose and heads over to collect his armor (painted neatly with blue and white and hints of gold-yellow). “I’m coming down, Jak. For kriff’s sake, please don’t shoot anybody, and I’ll try to explain better.”

He doesn’t get a response, although he’s sure Jak has just scoffed and crossed his arms. He kits up, clips his darksaber to his belt, and heads down to the training grounds.

When he arrives, the usual flurried activity of verde training has stilled, and almost all the warriors have stopped whatever they were doing to watch the ongoing sparring match between Kenobi and Anakin. Cody glances at them, raising his eyebrows - Kenobi is graceful, moving with a lightness you only see in the most refined fighters. He is precise and focused and, Cody suspects, powerful. He smiles a little and walks over to Jak, who’s standing back from the spar and watching it with a look of disgust.

Jak Ordo is the only other survivor of the Massacre of Galidraan besides Cody’s buir. Jango gave him a position as weapons trainer for his warriors, and so Cody and Rex both learned most of their combat skills from him, starting when they were each ten. Jak didn’t survive the massacre unscathed - the right side of his weathered face is bisected by a red, raw burn scar that destroyed his eye and left a furrow in his greying hairline. The remaining eye, grey and fierce, is always wary, and Jak doesn’t miss much. And his hatred for Jedi surpasses Jango’s - Jak has always been angrier and held grudges longer.

“I didn’t know he was going to be a jetii,” Cody says, mildly, falling into a comfortable stance next to Jak, still watching Kenobi. “But I made the decision I felt was right. It is understood that I am only allying with Stewjon and not with the jetiise.”

“That does not matter,” Jak growls. “You are tying your aliit and your buir’s aliit to killers. You should have more respect for the people we have lost than that, ad.”

Cody glances sharply at him. “I am familiar with our history, Jak. Kenobi has been respectful and he is acting in the role of a representative of his people, not the jetiise. I am perfectly capable of dealing with a jetii riduur, and if he breaks our deal then he can leave. This was my decision and my advisors accepted it. You will have to also.”

Jak curls his lip but just shakes his head instead of arguing more. “You should have spoken to me.”

“I told you, I intended to before they came here-” Cody stops, and focuses on the spar, because Anakin appears to be tying a wrap around Kenobi’s head and over his eyes.

“Jetiise,” Jak mutters, bitterly, but Cody ignores him, a bit fascinated.

He doesn’t entirely know what he expects - he has never seen a Jedi fight before this, although he himself is proficient with a saber, and although he’s sure Kenobi wouldn’t blindfold himself if he didn’t think himself capable of sparring just as well without his sight, he thinks he’ll need to see it to believe it.

As it turns out, Kenobi is almost as impressive and controlled blindfolded as he was before, which is… impressive. Even if it is only because of the Force. When Kenobi neatly darts past Anakin’s guard and pulls the blindfold away from his eyes with a small smirk, Cody can’t help a grin.

He also ignores Jak, who’s glaring at him like he’s just kicked a cat, and walks over to the Jedi, tucking his hands behind his back. “Good morning, Kenobi, Anakin,” he says, in Basic, vaguely amused. “That was interesting.”

“Good morning. I was simply proving a point to Anakin,” Kenobi says, with a smile, then pauses and adds, “And- we are getting married, you might as well call me Obi-Wan.”

Cody chuckles. “Fair enough. Of course, you can just call me Cody, then.”

Anakin wrinkles his nose, looking annoyed, but Cody pretends not to notice.

“Of course,” Obi-Wan says, seeming almost surprised. Then his eyes fall to Cody’s belt, and he asks, “Out of curiosity, how good are you with that saber?”

Cody realizes he’s referring to the darksaber, and shrugs a little, smiling. “I’m alright.” He ignores Jak snorting, behind him - if Jak is going to be loitering around and glaring, Cody’s not going to try to make him be part of the conversation.

“You should spar with him, Master,” Anakin says, making Cody chuckle.

“I’m not sure how that would go.” Cody taps the hilt of the saber and shakes his head. “Actually, I wonder if I could talk to you both, just briefly.” It seems like a wise idea to... explain Jak to Obi-Wan. So that Obi-Wan doesn’t get himself shot.

“Sure,” Obi-Wan says. “Although Anakin’s idea does have merit.” He grins, and Cody lets his lips quirk up in a small answering smile.

“Maybe so.” He gestures, walks to the opposite side of the training grounds and away from Jak. Obi-Wan and Anakin follow him, and slowly the warriors around them start to go back about their business. “I want to talk to you about the head weapons trainer, over there,” he nods at Jak, wryly. “That’s Jak Ordo and I meant to warn you about him before you came down here.”

~~~

Obi-Wan stills, tucking his hands behind his back and frowning. “That name is in the Jedi Archives,” he says, quietly. “As the only other survivor of Galidraan.” There hadn't been an image with the words - otherwise he would've recognized Jak. The entry in the Archives is too small for the scope of the massacre.

“Correct,” Cody says seriously. “I would've preferred to warn him before you came here, for reasons I'm sure you can understand.”

Obi-Wan rubs at his forehead, sighing. “I do understand,” he says, heavily. “My apologies, Cody - I hope I haven't made things more difficult for you.”

Before Cody can answer, Anakin frowns and says, “What do you mean, only other survivor?”

Obi sighs again, closes his eyes, says, tightly, “There's a reason I told you to read that entry in the Archives, Anakin. Jak Ordo and Cody's father, Jango Fett, were the only two survivors of a Jedi-led massacre. We were misled, but that does not excuse what happened.”

Cody nods solemnly. “No it does not. In any case, Jak hates Jedi… more than the rest of us.”

Obi-Wan hums thoughtfully, considering. “If our presence here causes him undue amounts of stress - I can't imagine it's easy for him to see a Jedi and not think about watching his brothers and sisters in arms die - we can find another place for saber work.” The convenience of the training yard is by far the less important thing.

Cody sighs, says, apologetically, “I don't like to say it, but for the first week or so maybe I should find you somewhere else to train.”

Obi nods - it's a good idea, both for Jak's sake and to avoid distracting the rest of the soldiers. “We don't want to inconvenience anyone,” he says tiredly, the relaxed lightness of the sparring session fading away as he reminds himself of the situation. “I'm aware that our presence here is already an intrusion on your people.”

Cody shifts his weight a bit, crossing his arms and meeting Obi-Wan's eyes. “You should understand, Obi-Wan,” he says, gravely, “that as we discussed, this marriage is going to mean you are one of our people now. The more you act as if you don't belong, the less willing we will be to accept you.”

That doesn't quite make sense, to Obi - he is not one of them, he is one of their greatest enemies, and they all know it - but he supposes Cody would know his people better than Obi-Wan. Their people? “I suppose, then,” he says, wryly, “this is a good time to tell you I speak Mando'a?”

Cody raises his eyebrows, clearly surprised, and shifts into Mando'a without a pause. “In that case, I should probably apologize for my colleagues and vode.”

Obi-Wan shrugs, a bit amused, answers back in the same language, making sure to keep a channel open for Anakin to translate. “Oh, trust me, I’ve heard worse. And most of what they said is justified. Your people have no reason to trust me.”

“That doesn’t change the fact that it has been disrespectful,” Cody says, which is understandable. “I suspect they wouldn’t have said most of those things if they knew you understood.” He pauses, then, grins a bit and adds, “Although Boba might still have tried to get you to say ass.”

Obi laughs, shakes his head. “I think,” he says, slowly, “that I should stop trying to reconcile your behavior with that of a typical diplomat - you are not at all like one of them. It’s…” and he pauses, considering a moment before admitting, “refreshing.”

Cody chuckles (and it’s a nice laugh, Obi-Wan decides, genuine and warm), smiling some, although he’s half serious when he says, “And I was trying so hard, too. What gave it away, the armor or the facial scarring?”

“The armor I expected, and the facial scarring isn’t exactly unusual,” Obi-Wan says, smiles. “In all honesty, it’s that you’re genuine. Most politicians are not.” He pauses, briefly cuts off Anakin’s ability to ‘listen in’ to the Mando’a, says more quietly, “Most politicians tend to take advantage of the fact that Jedi are typically considered self-sacrificing and monastic to, for example, give them less than adequate lodging.” Anakin’s complaining, silently, but that doesn’t really matter. “To be quite honest, I’m slightly out of my element in this - I’m not used to dealing with sincerity.”

~~~

Cody finds himself surprised (ironically) by Obi-Wan’s abrupt and quiet honesty; he smiles slightly and nods. “I think you’ll need to get used to it - mando’ade are many things, but dishonest isn’t often one of them.” Or perhaps, more accurately and less politely, most mando’ade aren’t full of shit. Who has the time or patience for elaborate lies? Certainly not him. “As to your quarters - you are, for all intents and purposes, going to be a Duke. We were hardly going to give you a closet to sleep in.”

Obi-Wan smiles. “I’m afraid I’ve somewhat misjudged your people-” Cody wishes he was surprised, “-there is, perhaps, some bias against Mandalore in Jedi teachings.” He shrugs, dismissively. “I have never slept in a closet. But I also have never actually had a set of rooms to myself.”

Cody allows himself a proper, warm smile. “Well, hopefully you enjoy them. It goes without saying, but you can move things around or get rid of things or ask for more things for your rooms, if you want. Since you’re going to be living there, after all.” Cody wouldn’t have thought he’d have to explain that, but he supposes if Obi-Wan didn’t expect nice rooms, then… Cody’s also beginning to think he might have assumed too much, thinking that Obi-Wan would understand that he’s marrying into an almost entirely equal position with Cody, despite their talks. To an outsider it really wouldn’t seem obvious, he supposes.

Thoughtfully, smiling a bit to himself, Obi-Wan says, “Qui-Gon would’ve had a fit if he learned I had my own rooms and didn’t get myself a plant.” Then, before Cody can ask who Qui-Gon is (or was), Obi-Wan refocuses on him and says, “I appreciate it. Actually, I was wondering - I noticed the palace has a decently-sized library. I was hoping I could explore some? Research is a particular interest of mine.”

Cody makes a mental note to himself to see about having a couple plants put in Obi-Wan’s rooms, then crosses his arms and shakes his head with an amused smile. “Again, you live here now. You can go anywhere you want, you don’t have to ask me. Well- except for anywhere Jak is,” he adds, glancing over his shoulder with a bit of a grimace. “There’s not much I can do about him.” Jak really only listens to Cody because he wants to, and because Cody is Jango’s son. Cody takes that for the respect it is.

Obi-Wan nods. “Duly noted. As far as Jak goes - is there anything I can do to help… acclimatize him? For lack of a better word.”

Cody laughs, although strictly speaking this isn’t the funniest situation. “Jak doesn’t like most people,” he says, honestly. “Frankly, don’t bother him, and don’t try to be friends, and don’t startle him, and he’ll probably-” maybe, “-tolerate you. Eventually. Which I realize doesn’t sound promising.”

“I understand. And it’s something,” Obi-Wan says, with a nod.

“Good. In any case, I suppose we should go.” Cody’s going to have to apologize to Jak later. Again. Gods, what a morning.

“Damn it,” Anakin mutters, half to himself, “I wanted to watch you two fight.”

“Maybe sometime when it wouldn’t make Jak have a panic attack,” Cody says, dryly, in Basic, and starts back inside. There are preparations to finish today, although most of them don’t require his input anymore - and tomorrow his buir comes home. It’s been a while since Jango’s been back on Mandalore, and Cody can’t wait to see him.

Although explaining to his buir that he’s decided to marry a Jedi will be… awkward.

~~~

Obi-Wan is introduced to Jango Fett the next day - the same day the wedding is to be held, earlier in the morning so there’s plenty of time for both Obi-Wan and Cody to get ready. Anakin is not there - he is, apparently, building a droid and doesn’t want to meet the “angry father of your slightly terrifying husband.”

Obi-Wan doesn’t entirely blame him.

Sometime during the day yesterday, three potted plants had miraculously appeared in his rooms; he hasn’t said anything to Cody about them yet, but he suspects his offhand comment about Qui-Gon was the motivation behind the plants. He doesn’t mind them - in fact, it’s quite the opposite, he’s always enjoyed plants - but he’d been quite surprised. It’s an uncommonly thoughtful gesture.

He doesn’t put on the dress robes for the meeting with Jango, although a part of him wants to, leaves his cloak in his rooms (which are light and airy), meets Cody, Rex, and Boba in a hallway in front of one of the cozier reception rooms. Doesn’t fidget, even though a part of him wants to; instead he breathes in and out, slow and careful, releases the nerves into the Force.

Boba’s grinning when Obi-Wan walks up. “Dad could kick your ass,” he says, cheerfully.

“I’m sure,” Obi-Wan says dryly. “I will endeavor to make sure he doesn’t feel the need to.”

“That takes all the fun out of it,” the preteen mutters, shoving his curly hair out of his eyes and grumbling to himself.

There’s a brief pause, and then Rex steps forward and pushes the door open, walks through, Boba on his heels. Obi-Wan follows, smiling to himself a bit, feels Cody close behind, and then they’re all four inside a medium-sized room with couches and low tables and a holotable in the center of the room. Jango Fett himself is sitting in a chair, in armor, idly inspecting a blaster.

Obi-Wan stays at the edge of the room as the three Fett brothers rush forward to greet their father, waits until Cody steps back and nods at him, says, lightly, “This is Obi-Wan.”

“A pleasure to meet you, Mand’alor,” Obi-Wan says, bowing slightly as Jango gets to his feet and holsters his blaster in a single movement.

“Likewise,” Jango says, shortly, eyeing Obi-Wan appraisingly. “So you are my ad’s riduur?”

“I will be by this evening,” Obi-Wan says steadily, keeping his hands still and relaxed by his sides. He’s not sure how jumpy Jango is, but it’s better safe than sorry, especially in this case.

Jango makes a noncommittal sound, thoughtful. “At least you’re interesting. You understand, I’m sure, that if you pull any Jedi tricks I will kill you myself.”

“I do.” Obi-Wan stifles the entirely inappropriate snort that threatens to slip out. “I assure you, Mand’alor, I have no intention of pulling any Jedi tricks on anyone here.”

“Hm. Good.” Jango considers for a moment, then nods. “Very well, I’m satisfied. Although, your accent sounds-”

“Like I have a stick up my ass?” Obi-Wan finishes, wryly, raising an eyebrow. “I’m aware, Boba informed me of that already.”

“Good boy, Boba,” Jango says, approvingly, and Boba beams.

There’s very little further conversation before they’re served a small lunch; Obi-Wan sits next to Cody and mainly listens to the conversation around him, with the occasional interjection. Jango and his sons are alike in much more than just looks, he discovers - they all have a similar sense of humor. Obi’s not sure if that can be attributed to Fett or to Mandalorian.

Perhaps both.

In any case, lunch is definitely not boring, and while he doesn’t speak much he enjoys himself. The prospect of preparing for his wedding is far less enjoyable, but there’s only so long it can be put off, and when Cody sighs and gets up and makes his excuses to go, Obi-Wan figures he should probably do the same. Even though it’ll likely take him very little time at all to get ready.

He showers, neatly trims his hair and beard, dresses in the dress robes he’d had made for the occasion: charcoal grey with rich blue accents and golden thread in swirling, vine-like patterns on the edges. The Order’s tailor had assured Obi-Wan that the robes would be nice enough for the occasion, with an odd smile, saying that they were sure his intended would appreciate them more than Obi would know.

Obi-Wan doesn’t really care how much Cody appreciates the robes, to an extent, as long as he isn’t out of place.

He can’t help fidgeting with the more elaborately-patterned cuffs on his sleeves after he dons the robes, though. He should only be concerned with this going wrong because of the effect it’d have on Stewjon’s situation, because in all honesty, being released from this would please the Council immensely. But a part of him is already more invested than he should be in the entire concept of this marriage, in sharing a family with Cody and Rex and Boba.

Attachment is forbidden, the rest of his mind whispers. Purpose must come before feelings.

This is not attachment, of course, or pandering to feelings. This is his duty, for his people, his world.

So it is understandable that he wants it to succeed.

(But, perhaps, he wants a little too much.)

Chapter Text

Cody slips his arms into the sleeves of his new, white jacket and adjusts it so it sits comfortably on his shoulders. He feels as though he has to be too careful, in case he ruins all the whiteness and the neat embroidered letters in gold around the sleeves and collar and front of the coat. The letters are the names of his clan, his father’s family and his. He’s getting married today. Not that he’s ever planned much for this, but he does suppose when he was much younger he thought he would feel more excited. Instead he just feels heavy, a little jittery, stomach twisted up - like before a fight, almost.

Maybe it’s just that he desperately wants this to go well, to be the right decision - for his people, certainly, because he doesn’t want to hurt his planet, but really, well. He’s making Obi-Wan part of his aliit, and in the simplest sense, he wants it to be good. He doesn’t need some kind of fancy marriage, he just wants to be able to be happy with his family. That’s all, just some comfort and a partnership with Obi-Wan that works. He’ll take that.

Gods, he’s overthinking this.

He straightens his dark blue tunic, adjusts the coat again, and goes to the fresher to anxiously run a comb through his hair a couple times. Then he sighs, and goes to his bedroom to get the silver, engraved circlet that he’s never worn since the day they crowned him Duke - he hates wearing it, but it’s apparently traditional to wear it, so he settles it on his head and tries not to feel self-conscious. He pulls on his soft grey boots and hooks the darksaber to his belt, tracing the square edges of the hilt for a second. This was his plan and his idea, so he better just do it. He’s not a child anymore and certainly doesn’t need to be afraid of a few ritual promises.

He leaves his rooms with his hands clasped behind his back and meets Rex on the way through the hall - Rex says that he told a couple warriors to get Obi-Wan. “Are you ready?” he asks, and Cody smiles tightly.

“Of course I am,” he answers.

Rex just snorts softly like he knows that’s banthashit and reaches over to squeeze Cody’s shoulder. Rex is in a deep-blue tunic, mostly simply-dressed, with his blasters on his hips. He’s made a concession to the formality of the event with a neat black jacket over the tunic, but Cody thinks Rex would rather just still be in his armor. “Hey, it’s not so bad,” Rex says, “you guys’ll get a bunch of presents later and we can all get as drunk as we want.”

Cody rolls his eyes. “Helpful, vod’ika.”

“I know, you’re welcome.”

They walk to the throne room, one of the side entrances across from the dais where the throne usually sits - for the time being, it’s clear, and Ruusaan is standing poised and composed with her hands folded behind her back. Cody can hear everyone talking amongst themselves, fairly quietly, and the twisted-up feeling in his stomach returns in full force. Rex is a steadying presence at his shoulder, though, and that helps.

“You might be right,” he says, very quietly, as Ruusaan starts talking to the gathered peopled about their purpose here today and that kind of thing, “I’m probably crazy.”

“Nah,” Rex scoffs, clapping a hand on his back, bracingly. “I’m sure this’ll be fine. If it’s not, you can just get really drunk.”

“You give the shittiest advice,” Cody says, dry. “I’m trying to get less nervous, Rex, shut up.”

“Okay, well seriously. It’ll be fine.” Rex shushes him, then, and nods at Ruusaan. “Pay attention, if you miss her saying you’re supposed to go out, she’ll shoot you.”

Rex is right, so Cody focuses, deliberately relaxing his hands at his sides. After a little more talking, Ruusaan falls silent and glances either way, so Cody swallows, squares his shoulders, and paces forward to join her.

Absently, he notes representatives from both planets standing in the small crowd of people, with friends, teachers, his clan, Anakin, Boba, and his buir - he decides he’d better not look at them, right now. He turns his eyes front again and finds Obi-Wan stepping up onto the dais as he does. He offers Obi-Wan a small, commiserating smile and gets one in return, which helps a little.

Obi-Wan is in a soft kind of grey-blue that makes his eyes look brighter and sharper than they are, and although Cody supposes the clothes are still Jedi robes, they certainly flatter him better than anything else he’s worn thus far, make him look tall and resolute. Between the gold light filtering through the throne room windows and the cool color of Obi-Wan’s robes, his copper hair is lit on fire, and Cody almost wants to run his fingers through it. None of this, strictly speaking, settles Cody’s nerves, but the experience has definitely gotten pleasanter all around. He can’t complain about the view, anyway.

Ruusaan smiles almost amusedly at them both, then says, in a firm voice that carries through the hall, “You may join hands.”

Cody holds out a hand for Obi-Wan’s, and when he takes it, Obi-Wan squeezes his fingers a little. His hand is warm and a little calloused, and Cody manages another smile.

“Both of you, repeat after me,” Ruusaan says, more quietly, almost encouraging, and Cody takes a steadying breath.

“Mhi solus tome, mhi solus dar'tome,” she starts, and Cody echoes it after her, in time with Obi-Wan.

We are one when together, we are one when parted.

“Mhi me'dinui an, mhi ba'juri verde.”

We will share all, we will raise warriors.

As they say their vows, Ruusaan wraps a white sash (embroidered in gold with the words haat, ijaa, haa’it), around their hands, smooth and careful, sealing the promises.

“Ori’haat,” Ruusaan says, smiling a little and nodding, decisive, and in true Mando fashion, everyone erupts in a flurry of clapping hands and stomping feet in approval (whether they personally approve or not).

The tension leaves Cody all in a rush, and he sighs a little, glancing back down at his and Obi-Wan’s hands. That’s it, he supposes. They’re married.

~~~

When Obi-Wan had first read about Mandalorian marriage customs, he’d thought the whole thing rather old-fashioned, although refreshingly simplistic in some ways: simply four phrases to seal the marriage, and, if there’s time, a piece of cloth wrapped around joined hands to symbolize the vows.

He still thinks it’s old-fashioned, but standing here with his hand bound to Cody’s by soft, smooth white fabric, he thinks maybe there’s a beauty in that.

Once the cheers die down a bit, Cody (who looks… very good in white and blue and gold, an engraved silver circlet on his brow that makes his eyes stand out more, and Obi-Wan swallows a bit and tries not to focus on that) reaches out and takes one edge of the sash, nodding at Obi-Wan a bit; Obi follows suit and together they unwrap their hands.

Cody folds the sash up and tucks it in his pocket, after, and then they both turn to face the crowd (and Obi-Wan sees Anakin, looking out of place in his dark Jedi robes and grease-smudged face but smiling). Pause for a moment and then walk together down the center aisle between family, friends, and allies - the small group of diplomats from Stewjon looks universally pleased by the occasion - and pass through the doors at the end of the throne room.

Only once they’re through the doors does Cody let go of Obi-Wan’s hand.

(Obi-Wan doesn’t exactly mourn the loss of contact, per se, but there had been something almost steadying about it, an anchor point against the unfamiliarity of everything.)

Outside, a reception has been set up, long wooden tables laden down with food and alcohol; there’s an area set aside for dancing (or, knowing Mandos, fighting), tucked among the trees and curtains of moss and flowers. Sunlight spills liquid golden over everything, fading in through the opaque surface of the biodome, turning everything into a scene straight from some fantastical landscape, almost, if one ignores the buildings in the background.

When he glances over at Cody, the light is catching in his hair and eyelashes and sparkling off the silver circlet and gold embroidery on his coat.

Obi-Wan swallows and looks away again, but the image sticks in his mind like the trees and flowers he loves to sketch.

The party gets started very quickly, once the guests follow him and Cody outside; the two of them are ensconced in seats at the head of the main table, with Anakin and the Fett brothers and Jango and no one else. A band shows up and starts playing, food is passed around, and Anakin leans forward with a gleeful grin on his face (oh dear).

“I wish I could see the looks on the Council’s faces when they see the broadcast,” he says, and Obi-Wan huffs and rolls his eyes.

“Anakin, this is why you get in trouble so often,” he says, smiling.

“Why, because I like seeing them ruffled?” Anakin shrugs. “It’s usually worth it.”

“Was putting worms in Mace Windu’s underwear worth it?”

Cody laughs a bit at that.

“Wait, you did what?” Boba asks, in Basic, perking up, and Anakin grins.

“Some of the younglings in the Temple creche wanted to sneak ants into Windu’s pants, but they don’t have the fine control to corral animals that small. Neither do I, but I can do worms, so…” Anakin’s smile grows wider, and he leans forward a bit. “We got some worms and I used the Force to sneak them into Windu’s pants.”

“And it garnered you sanitation duty and several extra hours of meditation,” Obi-Wan says wryly, “and likely, Master Windu’s permanent ire.”

Anakin shrugs. “Worth it.”

Boba considers this for a minute, then says, “I tried to sneak worms into Jak’s armor once.”

Obi-Wan turns his head to one side in an attempt to hide a smile, traces a finger absently over his saber hilt and sighs. Anakin appears to be telling Boba about the time one of the younglings, Ahsoka Tano, stole Mace’s robes from his closet.

“No one ever found them,” Obi-Wan interjects, smiling a bit. “Mace sulked about it for a week.”

“Then Master Yoda smacked him in the shins with his stick in front of half the Temple,” Anakin says, “and told him off. It was the best moment of my life.”

“Anakin,” Obi-Wan says.

“What?”

Obi-Wan shakes his head and sighs, can’t entirely help a smile. “Never mind,” he says, more amused than scolding. There’s no real harm in Anakin having some fun, after all.

~~~

Feasts have always been one of Cody’s favorite parts of being Duke. Nobody expects him to behave with excessive decorum, everybody's just enjoying themselves and drinking and eating and being comfortable. The celebration for the wedding will last for the next two days, just food and fighting and a good dose of chaos.

Based on the current topic of conversation, Cody fully expects to wake up sometime in the next few days with some kind of insect in his bed, courtesy of Boba and possibly some of the servants. He doesn't find that he minds at the moment, although later he's sure he will.

While they’re busy discussing another of Boba’s favorite pranks (and Cody’s least favorite, because Boba had decided to kriff with the cooks and they’re food was terrible for a week as a result), Jango leans over to Cody and says, quietly, “You did a good job making this decision. I don’t know what I think of Kenobi, yet, but you are doing well.” His buir smiles, a little, and turns back to his drink. “I am proud.”

Cody fights the urge to shift sheepishly in his seat, and instead nods, smiling a little, warmth filling his chest. “Thank you, buir,” he says.

Jango just smiles into his drink.

People are beginning to leave their tables, plates half-empty, to dance, and some of them come over to Cody and Obi-Wan’s table. Cody refocuses on Obi-Wan, realizing that he hadn’t explained this part of their wedding traditions to him. Wedding gifts are simple enough, but for something like this, they’re also a symbol of loyalty, that the clans have accepted Cody’s decision and will continue to stand with him and his clan. So the gifts that people bring to them now are quality knives, pieces of armor, tricked-out blasters, other pieces of equipment, a few food items - the list is varied, but everything is useful. Obi-Wan is good at thanking people, and acting appropriately appreciative, although Cody thinks he’d better explain the actual reasoning behind the gifts. But he can do that later. For now, he thanks everyone along with Obi-Wan, eats food and listens to the music and watches as a few of the clan representatives, who’ve already given gifts, start a sparring match.

During a few minutes where everyone’s distracted and leaving them alone, Cody glances over at Obi-Wan and smiles a little, encouragingly. “How’re you doing?” he asks, lightly.

Obi-Wan’s lips quirk up slightly and he says, “It’s certainly less irritating and monotonous than some of the events I’ve been to.”

“High praise.”

“At least this is interesting,” Obi-Wan laughs, which Cody supposes is meant as a complement of sorts. Just what everyone wants, for their riduur to find their wedding interesting.

“Well, good,” he answers, with a chuckle, and absently runs his thumb over the embroidery on the cuff of his sleeve. “If you need a break, we can always step away for awhile - they won’t miss us.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Obi-Wan says, with a slight smile, and turns his attention to Anakin, who appears to be talking to one of Cody’s friends about sparring. Cody looks back down at his hands and sighs a little. He could go get involved in a contest of his own, but it would be poor form to leave Obi-Wan to sit by himself - and anyway, the palace tailor would definitely murder him if he messed these clothes up.

After another few moments, as Anakin gets involved in a spar (which Cody expects he’s going to lose, from the look of things), the representative from clan Vizsla, Pre Vizsla, comes over with what Cody assumes is a gift in one hand. Pre is a slightly older man with a hard-lined face and steely eyes - Pre’s easy to read and Cody can tell he doesn’t want to be here, which is no surprise. Pre has never approved of Cody’s leadership, and Cody’s pretty sure clan Vizsla is only still in alliance with the rest of the clans because Pre swore loyalty to Jango. Cody gets Pre’s loyalty - to an extent - only because Pre respects his buir.

This might be a bit much for him, even though Jango has clearly put his support behind Cody’s decision.

Pre comes up to the table and sets his gift down in front of Obi-Wan with the thunk of glass on wood - it’s a small bottle, sealed, full of an opaque, milky liquid. Cody frowns. “Thank you, Vizsla,” he says, dryly. “What is this, exactly?”

Pre is looking at Obi-Wan when he answers, although Cody thinks he's addressing both of them. “Poison. I hope you can find a use for it, Fett.” He smiles, thinly, and everyone within earshot goes very quiet.

~~~

Judging by the reactions of the Mandalorians around him, Obi-Wan guesses that poison, despite fitting the bill as a weapon, isn’t exactly the kind of gift appreciated at a wedding. There’s likely some cultural subtext he’s missing here - he’s been doing a lot of that, he thinks, reading up on their culture would’ve possibly been more beneficial than their history - but he can parse out the sentiment behind the gift easily enough.

It bothers him, just a little bit, that someone wants him dead over this. But it doesn’t surprise him.

He pushes those emotions back, lets them dissipate into the Force, attunes himself more to the emotions in the atmosphere; there’s anger, bitterness, a cool satisfaction radiating from Vizsla, mostly surprise and anger from the rest of the guests, and a sharp cold anger from Cody. Obi-Wan’s beginning to think that shouldn’t surprise him as much as it does.

“I’m not interested in your gift, thank you,” Cody says, stony and icy, and Obi-Wan glances at his new husband’s (that’ll take some getting used to) face for more information, finds nothing to read, turns back to Vizsla.

Who’s smiling, thin and razor-sharp, deadly, almost, a touch of not-even-slightly real warmth to the expression that just makes everything more dangerous. He is one who will need to be watched, Obi-Wan thinks. “Very well,” Vizsla says, scoops the small vial of poison up into his hand and tucks it in his belt. “You know how to reach me if you… change your mind.”

“I won’t,” Cody says, in a voice colder than the winds on Ilum. His whole demeanor changes in an instant, from icy and remote to oozing friendly politeness (all of it as fake as the warmth in Vizsla’s smile). “If you don’t want to be here, Vizsla, you are perfectly free to excuse yourself.”

“Maybe I will,” Vizsla snaps, suddenly harsh, one hand settling on his blaster, and Obi-Wan doesn’t entirely mean to tense into readiness, but his hand strays down to his saber hilt anyway. There’s something very much off here, and he knows enough about politics in general to feel the schism coming. “I don’t think this… alliance best serves my clan anymore. You’ve all gotten soft,” and his voice drips with derision. “I listened to you because of him-” Vizsla gestures with one hand at Jango “-but no more. You would willingly tie Mandalore to a jetii?” Vizsla pauses, all angry disbelief and narrowed eyes, and Obi-Wan almost knows what’s coming before he says it. “Clan Vizsla, at least, does not forget Galidraan so easily.”

“That’s enough, Pre,” Jango says, too calmly.

“No,” Pre Vizsla says sharply, “it’s not. As long as a jetii is tied to the throne, you are all aruetiise, and we won’t stand with you. Vizsla, we’re leaving.”

There’s movement behind Obi-Wan, Vizsla’s retinue disengaging from the rest of the wedding guests, and then the Force shrieks danger and Obi-Wan reacts, instinctive, drops out of his chair and rolls to his feet, saber snapping to vivid life, as a blaster bolt scorches through the air where he’d been sitting a second ago.

Master? Anakin asks, across their training bond, and Obi-Wan absently soothes him.

Cody’s on his feet, too, both hands tight around his saber’s hilt, and the long, black blade is fully ignited. Obi-Wan’s only seen pictures of the darksaber, made by one of the only Mandalorian Jedi centuries ago, stolen from the Temple and used as an heirloom to indicate the Mand’alor ever since. Without the darksaber, no one would have a hope of uniting the clans - Obi-Wan supposes they’re lucky Jango had had it, years ago. “Get out,” Cody growls, low and fierce.

The Mando who’d taken the shot is still standing with their blaster out, fully armored and helmet covering their face. At Cody’s words, though, they inch towards their- family members? Obi-Wan isn’t entirely sure how the clan system works - who all have blasters out, themselves.

“Let’s go, verde,” Pre Vizsla says, too casually. “It seems we’ve worn out our welcome.”

That, Obi-Wan thinks, is an understatement.

What follows is a tense few moments where the Vizsla warriors join their leader and back away, weapons still out as though they’re expecting an attack, until they step onto a few speeders. Pre himself is the last one on - he throws a mocking salute in their direction before speeding away. Strangely, Obi-Wan doesn’t think that relaxes anyone.

He deactivates his saber and tucks it away with a practiced ease, rights his chair (which he’d knocked over in his haste to escape what was apparently an assassination attempt), and says, lightly but quiet, “When will people learn that attempting to shoot a Jedi from the back has just as much likelihood of succeeding as from the front? Honestly.” He sighs, absently straightens his sleeves, and glances over at Anakin, who just looks… angry and more than a little bit unsure.

It’s alright, Anakin, but you should come back over here for a bit.

He feels assent before Anakin does as asked, leaving the Mando he’d been sparring with and coming over to their table, one hand anxiously tugging on his padawan braid.

“You should probably be grateful they haven’t worked that out yet,” Cody says wryly, extinguishing the darksaber and returning the hilt to his belt.

Obi-Wan shrugs. “It gets tiresome - I’d rather they didn’t bother with the murder attempts at all, but that’s clearly too much to ask given the times. People do seem to forget about the Force to a surprising extent, though.” He sighs a bit, says, very wry, “It’s almost as though they think it’s nothing more than fancy telekinesis and mind tricks.”

Given that he’d recently heard a diplomat using exactly those words to explain to another why the Jedi “think themselves better than us” at a recent event he’d attended, he’s fairly sure it’s not an uncommon belief.

~~~

Cody sits down with a sigh, resting his hands briefly on the table and glancing around to try to gauge the mood of the people around him. “Is it not?” he asks, mildly, mostly kidding - he’s not particularly focused on the conversation.

His buir nods at him a little, calmly, although his eyes are burning - Cody wouldn’t put it past him to go find Pre later for a discussion. Jak Ordo, who’s standing on the opposite side of the room with Ruusaan, looks like he might either spontaneously combust or go after Pre. Everyone else just looks tense, uncomfortable - but at least not like they disapprove. For the most part. Bo-Katan has a sour look on her face.

Obi-Wan sighs long-sufferingly, probably since Cody just asked a stupid question, and answers, “If I thought you were actually interested I’d explain,” dryly. “Suffice it to say, it’s much more than that.”

“Good for you,” Cody says, absently, half-smiling, and raps his knuckles on the table before turning his attention to Boba, who looks very concerned. “You okay, vod’ika?” he asks.

“Yeah,” Boba huffs, like it’s a dumb question. “Obviously.”

Rex snorts. Rex looks like he wants to go with Jak and go chase Pre down. Cody shakes his head minutely at his brother and then sighs and stands up. “My apologies for the interruption,” he says, projecting his voice smooth and calm. “Please, let’s continue with the celebration.” Then he sits down, reaches for his glass of wine, and shrugs a little at Obi-Wan. “I don’t have an excuse for him or his clan,” he says, quietly. “I’m sorry about all that.”

“Don’t be, it’s quite alright.” Obi-Wan shrugs. “I didn’t expect this to exactly be smooth, given… the complicated history. Besides, this is hardly the first time someone’s tried to kill Jedi at a diplomatic event. I’ve been dealing with it since I was thirteen, I’m very much used to it by now.” He chuckles, slightly, and Cody rolls his eyes.

“That hardly makes it alright, Obi-Wan - but fair enough.” Cody sighs and waves his hand a little, watches the people around him slowly get back to what they were doing.

“I mean, people have been trying to kill us since I met him,” Anakin says, in Basic, grinning a little. “It’s not that unusual.” Cody’s not really sure how he’s following the conversation, but maybe Obi-Wan’s taught him enough Mando’a to at least follow along with a conversation.

“And yet he still makes no effort to stop being aggravating,” Jango says, but with almost an approving smile.

“I have never been aggravating a day in my life,” Obi-Wan says, which even Cody can tell isn’t true, making Jango scoff and roll his eyes.

“Master,” Anakin says, flatly, “you are the most annoying person I know. You literally invited the person who kidnapped you to torture you, who does that.”

“When did you do that?” Cody asks, wryly, raising an eyebrow at Obi-Wan. “I was under the impression that jetiise had a slightly better sense of self-preservation than that.”

Anakin bursts into a fit of laughter, giving Obi-Wan a look that clearly says do you believe this? Cody huffs a little and glances at his buir, who just sighs and takes a long drink of his glass of whiskey.

“My sense of self-preservation is perfectly fine. They were going to torture me anyway, and besides, they were amusingly angry when the only thing I’d tell them was that they weren’t trying hard enough.” Obi-Wan shrugs a little, as if this really all had been just a minor inconvenience.

“Dear gods,” Rex mutters, with a look of morbid fascination.

Cody snorts. “You’re not helping your case.”

“There was that time with the drug cartel when we found out he’s allergic to spice,” Anakin muses, and Obi-Wan makes a face and cuts him off.

“Alright, alright, Anakin, that’s enough,” he says, a bit sharp.

“He knew,” Anakin explains, a bit gleeful, “and he didn’t bother to tell us before the mission.”

Obi-Wan rubs his face with one hand, tiredly, half-glaring at Anakin, and Cody chuckles a little. “Duly noted. No spice for you.”

“Don't listen to a thing he says, he's exaggerating and making me sound worse than I am," Obi-Wan says, dry, but there’s a warm little half-smile on his face, exasperated, and Cody can’t help thinking it’s a nice smile.

Anakin huffs, “I am definitely not exaggerating,” and Obi-Wan glances up at the sky as if he expects it to sympathize with him.

“I’m sure he is,” Cody says to Obi-Wan, pretending to agree, although he does grin a bit mischievously because really, he’s pretty sure Anakin’s dead serious.

“Thank you for the support,” Obi-Wan says, sighing deeply, as if he’s disappointed, although Cody thinks he’s not, “even if it’s not genuine.”

“It’s very genuine,” Cody protests. As if he would ever be sarcastic.

Obi-Wan laughs, rolling his eyes, and lifts his glass to have a sip of wine. Cody likes what his smile does to his eyes, makes them warm and a bit sparkly.

Not that it matters, though - it’s just kind of cute.

Everything eases back into the former comfortable, boisterous energy, and clan Vizsla’s split from the clan alliance seems all but forgotten. Cody sticks by Obi-Wan, for the most part, although he does dance for a while when Boba insists that he has to. Anakin makes a few friends, in the course of sparring, Jak leaves after a while, Cody’s buir comes in and out to check on him, and Cody manages to mostly avoid the fact that the man next to him is his riduur, now.

That whatever else happens, they're partners now. Like they promised. We will share all. Cody had never much thought about it before, but now he thinks it might be something he wants. Just that. He doesn't need more.

~~~

Over the course of the next week, Obi-Wan starts to settle in to his new routine, learning the ins and outs of living on Mandalore. The first couple of days are almost entirely occupied by celebrations and treaty discussions; once the treaty is signed, the rest of the Stewjon delegates return to their homeworld and things begin to settle down.

On the third day, Cody suggests Obi-Wan go to the palace tailor to get fitted for formalwear and civilian-style clothes - something to do with becoming part of their culture, Obi-Wan suspects, or simply just not reminding everyone on a daily basis that he’s a Jedi, one of their enemies. He’s not actually opposed to wearing something other than robes, during casual leisure time, but he expects he’ll miss the weight of them, the comfortable way they help him hide his reactions during meetings. The tailor promises he’ll have clothes ready by the end of the week, which Obi-Wan would think is plenty of time.

Another plant appears in his room after a couple more days, this one a rarer flowering vine that decorates an entire grove of trees in a more secluded spot of the Temple gardens. Qui-Gon had showed him the spot years ago, citing it as one of the better places to meditate, and Obi-Wan’s taken to spending the occasional hour there in meditation. The vine doesn’t entirely feel like the gardens, in the Force, but it’s close enough to soothe.

Its appearance is also what makes Obi-Wan decide he should bring the plants up with Cody, the next time he sees him.

Cody is apparently very busy over the course of the next two days, however, and with the training yard still off-limits (due to Jak Ordo’s presence there), Obi-Wan spends most of his time in the palace library.

It’s huge, though nowhere approaching the size of the Jedi Archives, and Obi-Wan finds a holonovel about Mandalorian customs and another that’s a Mandalorian account of the Massacre of Galidraan and begins to read.

He shifts from the book on customs to the history of Galidraan quickly enough, deciding that the customs, he can learn just as easily through experience. The Mandalorian viewpoint of Galidraan (and, coincidentally, quite a bit of their exact opinions on Jedi), however, is not the sort of topic he wants to learn in such a… hands-on manner.

The text he’s reading gives a much more thorough description of the Mandalorians’ view of the events leading up to the massacre than the Archives’, which only makes sense, although this volume barely touches on the fact that the Jedi were manipulated into attacking the people they’d come to help. It goes into more detail about the fates of both Jango and Jak, discusses the remembrances and funerals held for the dead, and even goes into detail on how the massacre helped set the stage for the vicious civil war that followed not many years later.

He’s in the middle of taking notes on his datapad, comparing points where this history and the Archives’ history contradict, when someone walks up - the Force-signature belongs to Cody, and Obi-Wan sighs to himself - and clears his throat, meaningfully.

“Hello, Cody,” Obi-Wan says, not looking up. “I’m sorry if Anakin bothered you, he gets-” He gestures vaguely with the hand holding his datapad, then types in another interesting tidbit from the book. “Did you need something?”

“I brought lunch,” Cody says, dryly, and Obi-Wan blinks and looks up.

“Ah,” he says, and then frowns. “Anakin did bother you, then.”

“Not exactly, but he talked to me,” Cody says, offering out the bowl and flask he’s carrying - Obi-Wan takes them, the smell of food reminding him that he hasn’t eaten since dinner the night before. Oops. “What do you have there?”

Obi-Wan takes a drink before answering. “Obviously I read the account of Galidraan in the Jedi Archives, but there are elements missing, so I decided to read your own history of the event. During which I noticed contradictions and biases in both histories, so I’m making notes in an attempt to eliminate both and create one singular narrative.” He shrugs a bit, takes a bite of the soup - it’s thick and rich, a bit spicy.

Cody looks briefly surprised before he says, “So a little light reading, then.”

“Quite,” Obi-Wan agrees. “It's all very interesting.” He pauses, then says, “Speaking of light - you wouldn't happen to know why plants have been appearing in my rooms, would you?”

~~~

Cody decides to leave the topic of Galidraan and Obi-Wan's apparent project for later, and instead smiles a little at the Jedi's question and shrugs. “Perhaps I know a little about it. Do you like them?” He's pleased about the little gesture - hopefully it's been as nice for Obi-Wan as he'd hoped it would be.

Obi-Wan chuckles lightly, says, “I do, actually, they're quite nice.”

“Good.” Cody smiles and moves around to sit on the stiff couch Obi-Wan’s seated on. “How are you settling in?”

“Well enough, I suppose,” Obi-Wan says, which isn't really a glowing endorsement, but good enough. “It's very different from the Temple.”

Cody laughs. “Imagine that. A Mandalorian palace being different from the jetii Temple.”

“I didn't say I was surprised,” Obi-Wan says, rolling his eyes, and Cody snorts, smiling a little. He can't tell what Obi-Wan thinks of him, and it unnerves him a little. He's not sure Obi-Wan likes him or his people, and he knows he shouldn't care, but he still does.

“Well, I hope it's not a bad difference,” he says, mildly.

“Neither good nor bad, just different,” says Obi-Wan, in a tone that Cody can't decipher, and that doesn't reassure him. He smiles a little, though, and adds, “I'm definitely impressed by the food.”

“Our best claim to fame,” Cody jokes, feeling unaccountably awkward.

“It's nice, Cody,” Obi-Wan says. “You can relax.”

Cody shrugs a little and leans back against the arm of the couch, pulling on his sleeves just a bit. The hilt of his saber digs slightly into his hip. “I've been thinking you should start coming to some of my meetings,” he suggests.

“Are your advisors going to be alright with that?”

Cody smiles. “They've been expecting it. It's part of the marriage, I'm afraid.” He doesn't really know what Obi-Wan thinks about that, either.

“As long as I wouldn't be upsetting anyone by being there, I'll be perfectly happy attending.” Obi-Wan keeps eating the stew Cody brought, and ironically still manages to look perfectly sophisticated.

“Well,” Cody makes a face, wry, “I'm not sure you wouldn't, but the fact is that they have to deal with it. It'll all settle down soon enough.” In that sense, he thinks clan Vizsla leaving did them a favor - nearly everyone else disapproves of that reaction, so they've been more supportive as a result. Never mind that Cody's still a little concerned about what Vizsla's planning to do now that he's left their alliance.

“Fair enough,” Obi-Wan says, with a nod. “In that case, perhaps you should bring me up to date on the current state of affairs here, so that I can actually contribute?”

Cody chuckles a little. “I can tell you about some of the things we’re discussing currently, yes,” he says. Obi-Wan’s mostly going to have to learn with time, like anyone else, but Cody explains to him some of their recent issues with trade, how they’re trying to decide how much funding to allot to education, and the things they’re worrying about with clan Vizsla’s desertion.

“I actually have a few questions about Pre Vizsla,” Obi-Wan says, and Cody nods.

“Don’t we all,” he mutters. “What are yours?”

“I’m assuming there’s cultural subtext behind the poison?” Obi-Wan’s voice is dry, vaguely amused.

“Yes.” Cody taps his fingers on his knee. “He was calling us both cowards, and it’s-” He thinks for a moment. “Something of a backhanded gesture. The other gifts were… symbols of support, I guess you’d call them, which is the point. His was a warning.” Cody suspects Pre had meant to remain as part of the clans for a while yet, if Cody hadn’t pissed him off.

Obi-Wan nods thoughtfully, stroking his beard. “I can’t imagine he’s the only one angry with your choice, here, but no one else joined him when he spoke out against you.”

“No one else has the guts,” Cody says, jokingly, then shrugs. “But in all seriousness, I think everyone else simply trusts my judgement more than he does - he’s always had very extreme ideas about what Mandalore should be doing in the galaxy.”

Obi-Wan snorts. “Didn’t he technically break an oath by leaving the alliance? Especially with one of his men shooting at me. From what I recall reading, he would’ve sworn an oath to follow your rule when you became Mand’alor.”

“He didn’t swear any oaths to me,” Cody says, a bit tiredly. “He followed my buir, and that’s the only reason he ever listened to me. And anyway, I’m not really the Mand’alor.” Not while Jango’s still around - if it came down to it, people would take his word over Cody’s any day. He doesn’t mind because he understands. His buir is a legend.

Obi-Wan’s brow furrows a bit, like he’s trying to solve a puzzle, and he says, “But you have the darksaber…” He pauses and considers. “....but you never passed a trial by combat to receive it?”

Cody raises an eyebrow. “No,” he says, flatly. “My buir passed it down to me.”

“So technically speaking, you can’t claim the title, as Jango still holds it?” Obi-Wan asks, clarifying, and Cody sighs.

“It’s not a matter of can’t. Nobody thinks of me as Mand’alor and everyone still attributes the title to him, although I’m pretty sure he could take it or leave it. To a certain extent, it isn’t up to either of us.” Cody pauses. “But no, if I wanted to attempt to call myself Mand’alor, most people wouldn’t accept it.”

Obi-Wan’s beginning to look, for some reason, distracted and thoughtful, frowning a bit. “Interesting,” he says, and looks away for a minute, consideringly. Cody frowns, shrugs a little, and crosses his arms. He doesn’t know what Obi-Wan’s thinking, still, and it irritates him.

“Yeah. So Pre decided, apparently, that he didn’t have to listen to me.”

“Then Jango could have stepped in and ordered Pre to stay, correct?”

Cody shrugs. “Yeah. But he doesn’t try to take things over from me - and at a certain point, if someone is trying that hard to leave, you don’t want them staying.” He smiles a little, shaking his head and looking absently around the library. “He’d just create dissension, at this point.”

~~~

The idea that the title of Mand’alor is almost entirely based on the Mandalorian people’s decision to grant it to a person is a fascinating one.

Obi-Wan does his best to quarantine that idea to a corner of his mind where he can think on its implications later, when he’s not in the middle of an important conversation educating him on the information he’ll need to know if he’s going to do a semi-decent job of- Force, of co-ruling a planet.

That’s a terrifying thought. He can barely manage Anakin, some days, and now he’s expected to handle an entire world?

Force preserve him.

“It makes sense,” he says, thoughtful, rubs a hand over his beard. “If Jango had intervened it would’ve undercut your rule, and in any case, assassination attempts are in poor taste, especially at a wedding. I’m more concerned that other clans might follow his example, possibly leading up to another civil war.” One that he would be the indirect cause of.

Cody sighs, shaking his head. “That’s unlikely. And I doubt anyone’s in a hurry to start another war after we finally found some peace, not even Pre.”

For some reason, Obi-Wan can’t entirely believe that. Maybe it’s the incredible amount of civil wars it takes to destroy a planet’s ecosystem as thoroughly as Mandalore’s has been. Still, he nods, taps his chin thoughtfully. “Of course. What do you think is the greatest danger from Pre leaving?”

“He’s unpredictable,” Cody says. “He has radical views and a violent tendency, so I don’t know what he intends to do now.” He sighs, leans more into the back of the couch, and Obi-Wan takes a couple more bites of what’s left of his stew.

“Are there any loyalists in his clan who might be willing to keep you updated?” It might be a longer shot, but it’s worth discussing.

“I’m not sure, I haven’t looked into it,” Cody says dubiously. “I’m sure there are ways I could find out.”

“It might be worth looking into,” Obi-Wan says. He puts the now-empty bowl aside, takes a long drink, sighs. “I don’t entirely understand what he gained by leaving, especially when and in the matter that he did.”

Cody shrugs, frowning a bit. “His pride, I assume. And he made a statement he felt was important in some way.”

Obi-Wan frowns himself, considering. “I suppose that makes sense.” He sighs, rubs at his forehead, says, “In a slight subject change - I meant to tell you this earlier, but the Council agreed to this with the stipulation that I would still be available for Jedi missions. I’ll be able to pick and choose, to an extent, the missions I go on, but…” He sighs, pinches the bridge of his nose. “The Council demanded I make sure to keep the Order as my main priority.”

Cody nods. “I expected as much. I would at least appreciate if you’d keep me informed, when you’re expected to do things for them, but otherwise I understand.”

That’s a relief. “Of course I will,” Obi-Wan says, snorting a bit. “Good communication is, after all, essential to any relationship. And if I’m going to be involved in things here, it’s even more important.” He hesitates a moment before adding, “Although I’m concerned your advisors and your people will consider my involvement to be Jedi meddling.”

“Yes, I’ve noticed you’re concerned about that,” Cody says, smiling wryly, and Obi-Wan grimaces a bit. “As long as you don’t pretend like you know everything, I doubt they’ll think so.”

“Those types of people are some of my least favorite,” Obi-Wan admits. “I find them to be… intolerable, honestly, and I’ve attempted to make sure I don’t fall into the trap of becoming one such.”

Cody chuckles, and Obi-Wan smiles to himself and leans back into the couch, comfortable to just sit in a warm silence and be. The silence doesn’t last very long - Cody leans forward a bit and says, curiously, “I had them bring plants because you said someone would be disappointed if you didn’t have plants in your rooms...”

Obi-Wan smiles a bit, not-quite bittersweet, nods. “My Master, Qui-Gon. He-” he hesitates, then sighs and continues, “taught me how to garden after the first time I killed a sentient. He used to always tell me that when I became a Master myself - he was always very certain about that - that I should have plants in my rooms.” He pauses, then blows out a long exhale and says, “Of course, he’s been dead for nine years, so I hardly expect he’s still keeping tabs on my interior decorating, but the thought is nice.”

~~~

Cody takes note of the bitter little twist of Obi-Wan's lips and the distant sort of nostalgia in his eyes and decides that for all this is apparently an old loss, it's still painful, so he nods quietly and folds his hands. “I'm sorry.”

“It's alright,” Obi-Wan says, with a small smile and a light sigh. “It was- He was very important to me, and due to the nature of the Master-padawan relationship I…” He stops, shakes his head minutely. “When our mental bond was severed with his death- that wound will never fully heal.”

“Mental bond?” Cody asks, despite himself, then winces- perhaps now isn’t the best time to ask about logistics. But he doesn’t quite understand what Obi-Wan is referring to.

“Masters and padawans share a Force bond to aid in training,” Obi-Wan says, and Cody nods, slowly. “I’m sure you’ve noticed that Anakin and I appear to communicate nonverbally at times. That’s how. Unfortunately, when your mind is directly linked to someone else’s and they die, it… causes damage.”

Cody turns the concept over in his mind for a moment, thoughtfully, then frowns a little and says, “So it hurts,” he says, slowly, not entirely able to keep the sympathy out of his voice.

Obi-Wan shrugs. “It’s been, as I said, nine years - you get used to things after a while. We would’ve had the training bond properly dissolved when I was Knighted, but- Obviously there wasn’t a chance for that.”

Cody nods again. Obi-Wan’s wrong, about getting used to loss, like that - sure, it gets better, but sometimes he still misses his mother, the friends that died during the wars. “Well, I’m sorry regardless,” he says, mildly, and rubs his hands on his knees.

Obi-Wan half-smiles, warm. “Thank you,” he says, and glances away.

Cody thinks for another moment, then something occurs to him and he grins a bit. “This bond thing,” he says. “That’s how Anakin knows what’s going on? I assumed he understood a little Mando’a because he’s been following our conversations just fine.”

“Yes, I’ve been letting him listen in on most conversations,” Obi-Wan says, with a chuckle, “although I’ve no doubt he’s already picking up on the language. After all, he’s fluent in two already, it won’t be too hard for him to learn a third.”

“That’s interesting,” Cody says, and means it. “How many languages do you speak?”

Obi-Wan smiles, almost as if the question is amusing, and says, “I can at least hold conversations in the major languages of every galactic power. Some of them I don’t speak myself, like Shyriiwook.” Cody would love to hear Obi-Wan attempt to speak Shyriiwook, he thinks that would be hilarious. “I’m fluent in four languages, the rest simply proficient.”

“No wonder you’re a diplomat,” Cody says, with a short laugh. “I speak a grand total of three languages and one of those is really only a dialect of Mando’a.”

Obi-Wan’s blue eyes light up with interest, and he leans toward Cody, asks, “There are other dialects of Mando’a?”

Cody chuckles. “Yes. I only know one of them - our moon Concordia has its own variant, and then there’s one spoken on the opposite side of the planet by some of the smaller communities. That one is pretty mutually intelligible, but I had to work at figuring out Concordia’s language.”

“Fascinating,” Obi-Wan says, musing, and almost delighted, which is strangely endearing. “Do you have any texts on it? I’d be interested in looking at them.”

“You’re in the library, Obi-Wan,” Cody answers, raising an eyebrow at him. “I suspect if you looked you’d find a few, yes.”

Rather to his surprise, Obi-Wan rolls his eyes and mutters under his breath in a language that has a lot of vowels - Cody assumes he’s being insulted, and snorts quietly. “Thank you for that stunning contribution, Cody,” Obi-Wan says, in Mando’a again, sarcastic.

“You’re completely welcome, Obi-Wan,” Cody answers, inclining his head politely. “I’m always happy to help.”

Obi-Wan looks flatly at him, sighs long-sufferingly. “You’re as bad as Anakin.”

“Thank you.”

“That was not-” Once again, Obi-Wan switches to the language Cody doesn’t understand and mutters something to himself, and Cody just chuckles and shakes his head.

“If you’re going to continue to be insulting, I might just have to go,” he says, grinning.

“That was not an insult,” Obi-Wan protests.

“Ah, no, you were just speaking another language because you were being polite and complimenting me.” Cody crosses his arms and rolls his eyes a little, amused. “That’s how that usually goes, I’m sure.”

“It’s Ryl, and I was asking the Force for patience, actually.” Obi-Wan seems entertained by Cody, which is… fair, if he’s honest.

“Did it give you any?”

Cody thinks, based on Obi-Wan’s deadpan look, that he’s not making the best impression on his riduur today. “Has anyone ever called you a little shit?” he asks, thoughtfully, although there’s a mischievous glint in his eyes that Cody appreciates.

“Yes. Many times. Although generally not since I became a Duke,” Cody says, with a conspiratorial grin.

“Well, since I think I'm technically also a Duke, I can call you whatever I want without repercussions, right?” Obi-Wan is smiling, amusedly, and Cody inclines his head in a mock-bow.

“Of course, what else are riduure for?” Cody huffs.

Obi-Wan laughs, shaking his head, warm and genuine, and Cody can't help but feel like he's accomplished something. He thinks being married to Obi-Wan is going to be good after all, and finds it's easy to be relaxed with him.

Chapter Text

It’s Anakin who suggests it, at first. They’re out wandering through some of the gardens, with Cody, Obi-Wan idly pointing out a few different kinds of flowers to Anakin and detailing some of their uses - Anakin’s vaguely amused, Obi-Wan thinks, and he has no idea about Cody. Cody’s still mostly a closed book, hard to read, although he thinks that’ll change with time.

“You two should duel,” Anakin says, abruptly, when there’s a pause in the conversation. “I mean, Cody has a lightsaber, right? I bet he can’t beat you, Master.”

“No, most likely not,” Cody says, laughing, and Obi-Wan smiles.

“It’d be interesting, though,” he admits. “And I must admit, I’m used to having more sparring partners than just Anakin - actually, I’m used to sparring with Master Windu, his and my fighting styles balance each other well.”

“That’s why you’d lose,” Anakin informs Cody, and Obi-Wan sighs.

“Anakin,” he says, grimacing and pinching the bridge of his nose, “you could at least pretend you know how to be polite?”

“I’m not being rude, Master, just honest.”

Cody chuckles. “I don’t actually mind, Obi-Wan; you certainly seem good at what you do, after all.”

Obi-Wan shrugs. “I’m decent - but I’ve been practicing for my whole life.”

“Master,” Anakin says, sounding surprised and pushing annoyance along their bond, “you’re one of the best duelists in the Order.”

“I wasn’t aware there was a leaderboard,” Obi-Wan says mildly, and Anakin has the grace to look abashed.

“Some of us padawans argued over it for a while, and we all agreed that you, Master Windu, and Master Yoda are the top three.”

Obi-Wan rolls his eyes, shaking his head, amused. “I think you’ve gratuitously overstated my skills, Anakin. However, returning to the point of this discussion - I’ve never sparred with someone who doesn’t use Jedi forms. It’d certainly be a learning experience.”

“I suppose I’d also like to see how my style and skill matches up to a Jedi’s,” Cody says, sounding amused. “It could be good, I don’t often have much of a challenge.”

“I’m definitely not going to even try,” Anakin says, grinning.

“You’re understating your own abilities,” Obi-Wan chides. “Although you certainly haven’t been focusing enough on combat skills. If you paid half as much attention to them as you did to your sarcasm, you’d be on par with Master Windu yourself.”

“I’d rather be sarcastic,” Anakin says with a smirk. “It’s more fun.”

Obi-Wan sighs, tiredly, and rubs at his forehead. “You are a menace and I don’t know why I put up with you.”

Anakin grins wider, and Obi-Wan shakes his head, tries to stifle the smile flickering on the edges of his mouth. “Because I’m your wonderful padawan and we both know the Council would’ve thrown me out on my ass otherwise?”

Ah, yes, that. Obi-Wan grimaces a bit, sighs, and says, “Will you ever stop rubbing that in my face?”

“Nope!” Anakin says cheerfully.

Force preserve him.

~~~

Cody chuckles at the two Jedi, who he can’t help finding to be incredibly amusing, and absently tunes his wristcomm. “I don’t have anything to do this afternoon - if you’re serious about this spar, I’ll comm Jak.”

“Why not?” Obi-Wan says, with an amused smile, and Cody thinks that Obi-Wan probably expects to beat him. That might be a reasonable expectation, but Cody still traces the hilt of his saber and smiles to himself. This should be entertaining, if nothing else.

“Alright, I’ll comm Jak and tell him we want the training yard for the afternoon.”

That conversation goes about as well as Cody expected it would. Jak bitches about the idea for a while until Cody gets enough time to inform him that Obi-Wan is standing right here, Jak, thank you. That doesn’t help much, but Jak doesn’t swear quite as much (although Cody knows him well enough to know what he’s wanting to say), and finally growls out that fine, they can do what they want, and Cody tells him to please feel free to excuse himself while they’re there. The muttered curse he gets in response doesn’t really qualify as an answer, in his opinion.

“The training yard it is,” he says, mildly amused and shaking his head.

“Excellent,” Obi-Wan answers, and starts down the garden path, Anakin at his heels and looking more like an excited puppy than anything else.

Cody falls in at his shoulder, shedding his jacket to fold over his arm. It’s definitely better that his riduur is a Jedi than some stringy politician. You can’t have sparring matches with stringy politicians.

Jak has vacated the training grounds when they arrive, as far as Cody can tell, although it appears that everyone else has been expecting them to arrive because there’s far too much whispering and nudging going on for Cody’s taste. He sighs to himself and walks out to the sandy practice ground that’s usually clear for sparring, or training with Jak, unclipping his saber from his belt as he goes. Really, these clothes are probably too nice for a spar, but it’s not like he doesn’t have extras. His feet sink just a bit into the shallow sand and he stands with his feet apart, watches Obi-Wan walk to stand across from him and ignite his blue lightsaber to hold it low and at the ready.

Cody switches on his own saber, watches the black blade, edges burning white like an eclipse, rip to life like it always has, reliable. He settles into a low, balanced stance, careful, watching the lines of Obi-Wan’s shoulders and hips, the way the Jedi holds his saber as if it’s part of him, so he sees the movement when it starts and steps into the fierce strike that Obi-Wan drives at his shoulder. Their sabers meet with a sharp, unnatural sound, and Cody feels an unexpected strength behind the blow and smiles.

Obi-Wan doesn’t let him enjoy the small success - he is fast, sharp, smooth, like a dire-cat, and he seems to be testing Cody, pressing at his defenses to see where he’s weaker, but Cody’s guard is good and he uses the opening parries to try to figure out Obi-Wan’s style - there’s a refined structure to it that Cody thinks he could learn.

Or could, that is, if Obi-Wan didn’t smoothly and abruptly abandon the light, probing sort of blows, narrowing his eyes in an icy focus. In the midst of fending off the new hail of attacks, it occurs to Cody to be grateful - sort of - that Obi-Wan doesn’t appear to be going easy on him. Then he lunges out of the way of a driving strike at his stomach and lashes out with a kick that, somewhat to his surprise, hits home in the pit of Obi-Wan’s stomach and makes the Jedi back off slightly with a winded huff of surprise. He doesn’t seem displeased by that, though, just lifts his saber in a taunting guard and raises his eyebrow, so Cody responds to the unspoken challenge with a slash at Obi-Wan’s hip - he doesn’t pause when Obi-Wan blocks it, only adjusts and attacks again, a series of lightning strikes that are blocked just as fast every time until the clash of their sabers echoes in Cody’s ears.

Obi-Wan pushes away for a second with a smug grin, says “Impressive,” in a tone that makes Cody both smile back and want to wipe that look off his face. He snorts, twirls his saber quickly, and charges Obi-Wan again.

The spar makes his muscles burn, makes him really have to focus, and he finds himself smiling exultantly even as he assesses their skills and decides (somewhat to his irritation) that Obi-Wan is likely better than him. Slightly. He pushes himself hard, enjoys the exertion and the challenge and the near-blind instinct of it until Obi-Wan moves just too fast to follow and the blue saber is suddenly humming at his collar.

Cody grins and curses violently.

Obi-Wan stands there for a second with that same damn smug look, then switches off his saber and steps back. “Like I said, impressive,” he says. “That was fun.”

“You’re a patronizing bastard,” Cody says, mock-surprised, trying to control his grin. “Alright, Obi-Wan, you’re pretty impressive yourself.” He switches his own saber off, clips it back to his belt, and makes a show of dusting off the sleeve of his jacket.

Obi-Wan’s lips tug up in a smirking smile, and he says, “I do make a habit of trying to be,” smooth and self-satisfied.

“That explains a lot.” Cody chuckles, ignores the verde around them who all look varying degrees of, well, impressed, and throws a mock-salute at Anakin, who he suspects is slightly disappointed that Obi-Wan didn’t win their spar more… overwhelmingly. If nothing else, this marriage has given him a damn good sparring partner.

~~~

Obi-Wan smiles to himself as he brushes dust off the sleeves of his new shirt, unaccountably amused and pleased by the results of the spar. Cody doesn’t fight with anything approximating the Jedi forms, which makes sparring him more of a challenge - even Master Windu’s vapaad gets predictable after long enough, although that doesn’t make beating him any easier.

“Do you learn any type of forms, in Mandalorian saber or knife fighting?” he asks, thoughtfully, more curious than anything else.

Cody shrugs. “Not exactly. I just learned some strategies and Jak taught me how to use them.”

Obi-Wan nods, considering. “That makes sense. Most Jedi specialize in one of our forms, but can use elements of the others. It’s… wise, since every form has its weaknesses and being able to counter whatever your opponent throws at you is important.” He smiles, says, “Not that any of that is important to you. In any case - it’s nice sparring against someone unpredictable.”

“Ah, I’m flattered you think I’m unpredictable,” Cody says, teasingly, with a grin, and Obi-Wan finds himself grinning back, thoughtlessly.

“Truly a compliment of the highest order,” he says, in a similar tone, and pretends not to hear Anakin’s snort.

Cody bows, just a little bit, not-quite-smirking, and says, “Thank you.”

Obi-Wan probably shouldn’t find that as attractive as he does.

“I have to ask,” he says, smiling, “was it worth listening to Jak’s rant?”

Cody laughs and says, “It was, you’re a good partner,” warm and light. Obi-Wan smiles at him, even though it makes Anakin push an impression like rolled eyes across their training bond.

“Thank you,” he says. “If Jak isn’t too terribly put out by it, we could make this a regular occasion.”

Cody looks thoughtful. “You know, I wouldn’t mind that too much,” he muses. “I’ll talk to him.”

Obi-Wan smiles, inclines his head in acknowledgment. “This was a learning experience in more than one way, actually,” he says, thoughtful. “I’ve never had the chance to observe a saber being used by a null, and it’s-” He pauses, organizes his thoughts. “The kyber crystal in that saber likes you.”

Cody snorts. “What exactly does that mean?” he asks, sounds more amused than anything else, and ah, yes, that’d probably be good to explain.

“Well,” he says, “do you know what a kyber crystal is?”

“Not entirely, no,” Cody says, and that’s a good place to start, then.

Obi-Wan pulls his saber hilt out, opens his palm flat, and reaches into the Force, twisting the different components apart until his kyber crystal is visible, singing in the Force as it always does. “This is a kyber crystal,” he says, indicating it with his free hand. “In layman’s terms, it’s what powers the blade of a lightsaber. There are other types of crystals, but kyber is the most commonly used. It… resonates with the Force in a unique way, and with each person.” He fits the pieces of his saber back together, easily, practiced, and tucks the hilt away on his belt again. “When a Jedi is somewhere between ten to twelve years - or their species’ equivalent - we’re taken to Ilum, for a ritual in which we find our first kyber crystal - or perhaps it finds us. It’s not very clear.” He shakes his head, smiles a bit. “In any case, I’m getting off-topic. The point being, the darksaber is centuries old, and so is its crystal, and you’re not sensitive - it’s just fascinating that the crystal has such an affinity for you.”

Cody chuckles. “Well, I suppose once again I should be flattered,” he says, although Obi-Wan suspects his explanation was still too technical.

He just laughs a bit, though, shaking  his head. “Feel free to tell me it makes no sense - I’m quite aware such topics can be confusing for non-Jedi.”

~~~

Cody taps the hilt of his saber and chuckles, slightly. “If the crystal in my laser sword likes me, I’m not going to complain,” he huffs, although frankly he doesn’t understand what business a power source has liking anybody. “I’m not confused but I do have a lot of questions about why an inanimate object has an opinion about me in the first place.”

“Well, it’s not exactly inanimate,” Obi-Wan says, with a grin, and Cody rolls his eyes.

“Alright, no, but the fact remains that it is a piece of abnormally smart rock.”

Obi-Wan laughs, warmly, eyes bright and amused. “I know several older Masters who would keel over in shock at hearing a kyber crystal described that way,” he says, shaking his head.

“Am I incorrect?” Cody asks, raising an eyebrow.

Obi-Wan laughs again. “No, you’re not.”

“I didn’t think so.” Cody chuckles and tucks his arms behind his back, shooting a pleased little smile at Anakin. He walks towards the edge of the training yard so they’re not in everyone’s way, shrugs a little as he goes. “I’ve been training with the darksaber since I was a kid, and my buir gave it to me when I was sixteen.”

“You’re good with it,” Obi-Wan says, still smiling. The skin at the corners of his eyes crinkles when he smiles. “Is that when you became Duke, as well?”

“Yes.” Cody nods. “It was an eventful birthday.”

“Seems like it,” Obi-Wan says. “Why did Jango abdicate so early?”

“He’s not the biggest fan of politics,” Cody answers, with a chuckle. “And he was getting some job offers in other areas, as I understand it - that’s always been more his interest.” His buir doesn’t really tell him about his endeavors outside of Mandalore’s business, and Cody doesn’t ask. The arrangement works as it is.

“Bounty hunting, if I recall,” Obi-Wan says, with a small smile. “Somehow, I’m not surprised he doesn’t enjoy politics.”

“That’s my buir,” Cody says, rolling his eyes. “And between us, they’re not what you’d call my favorite either.” He’s good at politics. To an extent, he enjoys the challenge. And this is important to him: leading his people, carrying on what Jango started. But gods, he likes things to be straightforward, and even Mando politics rarely are.

“It could always be worse,” Obi-Wan informs him with a snort and something of a conspiratorial look. “You could have to deal with the Senate on a regular basis.” He shudders a little.

Cody laughs. “Yes, that would be worse. I quite enjoy our position outside of the Republic.” The advantages of being a Republic world aren’t worth the oversight and the obligations. Mandalore has always preferred self-governance and Cody’s no exception to the rule.

“Just between us,” Obi-Wan says, mildly, “there are times when I think it’s smarter to be self-reliant like this. If the Senate worked as it’s supposed to, that’d be different, but there’s corruption at the heart of the Republic. This Separatist movement shows that very well.”

“This ‘private opinion’ of yours wouldn’t have anything to do with your planet’s own self-reliance, would it?” Cody asks, a touch sarcastic, and smiles.

Obi-Wan smiles, guilelessly, and says in a voice smooth and unbothered, “Of course not.”

Cody laughs. “I didn’t think so.”

~~~

Meetings have never been one of Obi-Wan’s preferred pastimes, although he’s become used to them by necessity, due to dealing with the Council on a regular basis - as Anakin Skywalker’s Master, he’s frequently in the Council chamber, giving them updates on Anakin’s training or apologizing for the many antics his padawan has gotten up to over the years.

But when Cody comes by his rooms and asks if he wants to attend a meeting discussing Pre Vizsla’s actions, Obi-Wan sighs and says of course, he’d love to.

Whether he actually would love to or not is not the point, since he did sign up for this when he married Cody.

In any case, meetings aren’t actually horrible, and he expects that meetings with Mandalorians are likely to be short and to the point, with little political dancing around, so he smooths out his shirt and tucks his hands behind his back and follows Cody into a sort of conference room. There’s a large table in the center of a room, with a holoprojector in the center, it looks like, chairs around the edges, a few of them occupied by Cody’s advisors - Ruusaan sits ramrod-straight in one chair, Riska is sprawled lazily across another with her feet on the table (the young man with the glasses, Elick if Obi-Wan’s remembering correctly, is glaring at her through them), and Cato Skirata is stabbing a small dagger into the surface of the table and pulling it out again, repeatedly. (There are enough holes in the table in front of Cato’s seat that Obi-Wan suspects this is a common occurrence.)

Bo-Katan is apparently idly trimming her nails with her knife - she and Riska are both in full armor, helmets on the backs of their chairs. Obi-Wan can’t even be surprised; from what he knows of her this is entirely in-character.

“Look who finally decided to show up,” she drawls, twisting her knife through her fingers and raising an eyebrow. “And you brought your riduur too, wonderful,” and she glances at Rex, leaning against a wall in his armor. “It’s a family affair.”

“Very observant of you, thanks, Bo-Katan,” Cody says dryly, and Obi-Wan snorts, sitting down in a chair to Cody’s right.

“Riska,” Ruusaan says, raising an eyebrow, gesturing at, Obi-Wan suspects, Riska’s feet.

Riska just raises an eyebrow right back and doesn’t move.

Ah, well. At least it all seems much less stuffy than the Senate.

There’s a moment of silence, and then Ruusaan sighs deeply, says, “What are we going to do about Vizsla?”

Riska snorts. “That depends on what he’s going to do about us.”

“Riska,” Elick grumbles, and Obi-Wan hides a smile in his beard.

“What?” Riska asks. “It’s a legitimate question.”

Cody smiles a bit. “Yes, it is - does anyone have any particular thoughts?” The way he glances at Bo-Katan makes Obi suspect the redhead had known Pre Vizsla, at least decently well.

Bo-Katan shrugs. “He’s pissed,” she says. “You brought a jetii into your clan and you’ve been keeping us to ourselves instead of letting us find people to fight. The jetii,” and she nods at Obi-Wan himself, “did a lot of damage, and then you refused his gift.” She curls her lip. “Refused his offer to help you-” here she pauses, considering, “-ah, assassinate your new riduur.”

“I get the feeling Pre doesn’t like being told no,” Riska says, absently. “He’s kinda an asshole that way.”

“You’re one to talk,” Cato mutters under his breath, and Obi-Wan most definitely does not snort.

Cato glares at him anyway.

Cody nods thoughtfully, tucking his hands together on the table and leaning into them a bit. “I know he’s wanted us to be more… proactive than we are, for some time. I’m somewhat worried he’ll start a fight with either the rest of us or the jetiise.”

A valid concern. “If I may interject,” Obi-Wan says, glancing at Cody and seeing him nod, “if Pre Vizsla does go after the Jedi, I can more than likely promise the Council won’t see it as open hostility from Mandalore itself - which would preserve your-” he grimaces “-our neutrality. The Senate, on the other hand, would likely be less understanding.”

“Because you jetiise are so well-known for giving Mandalore the benefit of the doubt,” Bo-Katan mutters under her breath, garnering glares from Cody and Ruusaan, both.

“Bo-Katan,” the older woman chides. “We are not discussing the past.”

Obi-Wan sighs. “She does have a point,” he admits. “But the fact is that I am in a position to reduce miscommunication, if such an event arises, so I don’t think worrying about Vizsla attacking the Order is fruitful at this point in time.” Hopefully, making such a suggestion isn’t overstepping his bounds.

~~~

Cody nods gratefully at Obi-Wan and shoots another glare in Bo-Katan’s direction. “Thank you,” he says. “That’s helpful. If we assume you’re correct, then, I’m currently more concerned about the possibility that he’ll start a war here.” There’s also a slight possibility of either assassination or an attempt to take over Cody’s position, neither of which makes him feel exactly comfortable.

“The clans showed their support,” Elick points out, mildly. “I don’t think he’d want to risk his entire clan against you when it’s so one-sided.”

“Unless he wasn’t trying to fight a proper war,” Ursa says, and Cody looks questioningly at her. “It seems he’s decided you aren’t fit to lead, and I suspect he thinks he’d be a better choice. If I were him, I’d be trying to get as many people to agree with me as possible.”

Cody grimaces slightly, notices that Bo-Katan looks very reserved. He knows she already agreed with Pre, to an extent, so he thinks this has to be uncomfortable for her.

“I think our people trust you,” Cato says, idly, twirling his knife briefly before stabbing it back into the table. “That doesn’t mean that Pre’s opinion doesn’t have appeal.”

“I’m aware.” Cody taps his hands briefly on the table. “I can hardly stop people from listening to him, not without pushing radicals into his arms. Unless anyone has a better idea, I don’t see an active way to deal with this. We may just have to wait - although,” and Cody smiles, glances over at Obi-Wan, “my riduur did suggest the possibility of seeing if anyone in clan Vizsla would be willing to keep us updated on what Pre is intending.”

“That is something of a long shot,” Ruusaan says, a bit warning, raising an eyebrow, and Cody nods.

“I know, asking people to… bend clan loyalty is risky, but his whole clan must not agree with his decision. I wouldn’t be asking anyone to betray him, just to warn us if he was planning anything that would hurt the rest of the clans.”

Riska crosses one leg over the other with a thoughtful air and waves a hand. “I mean, it couldn’t go too horribly wrong, could it?”

“It could,” Bo-Katan says, somewhat reluctantly and very flat. “You want them to start telling everyone you’re asking people to sell out their aliit? All you’d have to do is ask the wrong person to keep you ‘updated.’”

Cody sighs. She’s right, of course. This idea is tricky enough as it is - Pre could so easily twist it against him.

“So just don’t ask the wrong people, di’kute,” Riska says, earning exasperated noises and glares from both Ruusaan and Elick.

“Do you know who the right people are?” Cody asks, dryly.

“Obviously.”

“Oh my gods,” Elick mutters, rubbing his eyes behind his glasses as if he were a world-weary man twice Riska’s age, instead of two years her junior. “Riska, stop kriffing around.”

“I’m serious.”

Cody sighs and props his elbows more comfortably on the table, raises an eyebrow. “So, Riska, I take it that means you’re volunteering to speak to them yourself?”

She gives him a venomous look and settles more comfortably into her chair. “Sure, your highness,” she grumbles.

Cody rolls his eyes at her; there are disadvantages to having friends among his advisors. Sometimes they really don’t take him seriously enough anymore.

Ruusaan, as usual, looks like she needs a drink. “We all appreciate the suggestion, Riska.”

Riska gestures grandly and inclines her head in an imitation of a bow. Elick mutters oh please under his breath and casts Cody a look like can you believe her?

Cody pretends not to notice.

“Informant or no informant,” Rex says, matter-of-fact, “I think we should assign some verde to keep an eye on them. I don’t trust Pre not to make a more overt move. He’s trying to make you look like a coward, vod, so starting fights you don’t want to escalate could help him.”

Cody nods slowly. “You can organize that, then. You’ve got a point.”

Bo-Katan mutters something to herself, looking frustrated, and crosses her arms, but that’s fairly standard for her so Cody doesn’t worry about it.

They discuss a few more things before everyone starts looking restless and Cody realizes it’s almost lunch time, so he calls the meeting to a close. Obi-Wan stands up smoothly beside him, nodding at the advisors, who respond with varying degrees of civility - Bo-Katan barely nods. Cody doesn’t think he’ll be able to get better out of her, at least not for some time.

Rex joins he and Obi-Wan as they leave the meeting room, tapping a rhythm on his helmet. “Those damn things are why you are the Duke,” he grumbles at Cody, tiredly, and Cody chuckles.

“Yes, vod’ika, I know you hate them. But look on the bright side, it went fast today.”

Rex shakes his head with a doubtful snort. “That was fast?”

“They’re much better than the Senate,” Obi-Wan points out, with a light laugh. Cody appreciates Obi-Wan’s decision to wear some of the tailored clothes in the Mandalorian style that he has, now. Because it was probably a better call for that meeting. He has on a blue jacket layered neatly over a leaf-yellow shirt and Cody really doesn’t understand why the jetiise wear all that brown when they look so much better in actual nice colors.

“Gods,” Rex mutters, emphatically, and Cody thinks he’s imagining how terrible a Senate meeting would be.

“And now you know why we aren’t part of the Republic,” Cody chuckles.

~~~

Obi-Wan chuckles, tucking his hands behind him as he walks with Cody and Rex towards the library - he suspects they’ll be meeting Boba for lunch. “If you think this is bad, Rex,” he says, lightly, “listening to the Senate debate trade regulations with the Trade Federation’s ambassador might actually kill you.”

“That’s the real reason you jetiise are crazy,” Rex says, then pauses for a minute. “No offense.”

Cody looks like he’s simultaneously forcing back laughter and a few swears.

“Honestly,” Obi-Wan says, “it can be quite entertaining, if you understand enough of the double meanings to pick out the insults. Senators are so careful about couching their insults in politically-correct phrasings.” He pauses. “Although I don’t think either of you would find that very interesting.” Not that it is, really - it’s just a way to pass the time on Senator-sitting duty. “Senator-sitting can get… tedious, and we tend to find whatever ways we can to pass the time.”

“Like I said,” Rex says, “not my style.”

Cody snorts.

Yes, that’s definitely an understatement.

They turn a corner and walk into the library, and Obi-Wan follows Cody and Rex over to a corner of the room, where a few tables are tucked against the walls and shelves, chairs scattered around. Boba sits at one, random pieces of his armor sprawling across the two chairs on either side of him, a lunch spread out across the table’s surface - roast meat and a crock of what looks like beans in some sauce and a loaf of bread. “Hey, ori’vode,” Boba says, carelessly waving a blaster pistol in their direction. “Hey, jetii.”

Obi-Wan smiles to himself, tugs the sleeves of his yellow-gold shirt down over his wrists. “Hello, Boba.”

Rex stomps over to a chair and pulls it out, sits down with a huff, muttering something decidedly uncomplimentary under his breath, his Force-signature crackling with annoyance - likely about the meeting, Obi-Wan suspects.

“How’d the meeting go?” Bob asks, cutting off a piece of meat and sticking it on his plate.

Cody sighs, sitting down in his own chair. “As well as usual, I guess,” he says, and Obi-Wan snorts.

Sits down and cuts a slice of bread, says, “I’m concerned about Bo-Katan,” mildly. “I was keeping tabs on her and the others’ Force signatures during the meeting, and she seemed… dissatisfied and tense.”

“What else is new,” Cody sighs, weary, shaking his head a bit.

“If Vizsla is trying to rally others to his cause, I’m-” Obi-Wan pauses, searching for the right word “-concerned that she’ll join him.”

Cody frowns, glancing over at Rex. “You don’t know Bo-Katan. She doesn’t agree with me on everything,” that’s obvious, from just the short meeting today, “but she swore an oath, and she’s loyal.”

Obi-Wan nods. “Of course,” he says. “You know her better than I do - I defer to your opinion.”

“Bo-Katan’s pretty cool,” Boba says, absently. “She kicked my shebs when I convinced her to spar with me once.”

Obi hides a smile in his beard, takes a bite of his bread to cover it up. “Did you make it hard for her?”

“Obviously,” Boba huffs.

“That’s your specialty,” Rex says, rolling his eyes and faux-glaring.

Obi-Wan chuckles. “It seems like a Fett specialty in general,” he says, amused, fills his plate with more of the available lunch. The comment garners three identical offended looks from the other members of the table; he presses his lips together to stifle a laugh. He has a feeling that wouldn’t exactly be… appreciated.

Cody raises his eyebrows. “You’re the one who married into this family,” he says, “you don’t get to talk shit anymore.”

Ah, yes. He supposes that is true. “I could include myself in that statement easily enough,” he points out. “As Anakin would be glad to inform you, I cause trouble for people on a frequent basis.”

Rex picks up a spoon to stab in Obi-Wan’s general direction, says, “I noticed.”

Obi-Wan smiles and takes a bite of meat, leans back in his chair and listens as Boba starts chattering on about how he and a few of his friends got in trouble for sneaking out to the training grounds instead of doing schoolwork. Apparently Jak had caught them and sent them all home with a threat that he’d tell all his soldiers to deny them entry to the training grounds during school days if he saw them again. Boba seems to be of the opinion that Jak wouldn’t do it - Obi-Wan isn’t so sure, although he doesn’t say that. Just smiles and nods and eats his lunch and luxuriates in the warmth of the Force, and after a while Anakin comes in and joins them, and everything is just- It’s nice.

And for the first time, Obi-Wan thinks this place could easily (maybe too easily) become a home, even more so than the Temple.

He’s not sure what to feel about that.

~~~

When Cody had first introduced Obi-Wan to the palace tailor for his Mandalorian wardrobe, the tailor, Beto, had looked Obi-Wan over appraisingly and then turned to Cody and smiled and said “Thank you for this job” with a very self-satisfied air. Cody had then abandoned Obi-Wan to Beto’s flurried attention and gone off to his own meetings.

Today, supposedly, Beto has finished the last, most intricate of Obi-Wan’s wardrobe pieces - formalwear suitable for a Duke isn’t a job that can be rushed, or at least, that’s what he always says. That means Obi-Wan’s supposed to have a last fitting before Beto lets him take the pieces and actually wear them in public. (Beto is still complaining about the fact that he didn’t get to design Obi-Wan’s outfit for their wedding. “A royal wedding doesn’t come very often, your highness,” he’d pointed out, archly, and Cody suspects he won’t forgive him any time soon.) Today, then, is apparently that last fitting, Obi-Wan tells him, just before asking him if he would come along.

“I’m not exactly… familiar with Mandalorian formalwear,” he explains, “so I’d appreciate a second opinion to make sure everything fits and looks like it should.”

Cody chuckles. “I’m sure Beto will be happy to tell you - but he’s… interesting to talk to. So certainly, I’ll come.” Cody’s never been a very great expert on how formalwear should look either, but he’s interested to see what Beto came up with, anyway.

“I appreciate it, thank you,” Obi-Wan says, sounding relieved. “Beto is- an acquired taste, I believe.”

“Beto is out of his kriffing mind,” Cody returns, mildly, grinning. “But he does a good job.”

Obi-Wan chuckles, and looks down at his clothes with an assessing look. “I suppose he does. This isn’t exactly my area of expertise, though.”

“Somehow, I worked that out,” Cody teases, raising an eyebrow.

Obi-Wan chuckles, which Cody suspects means he knows exactly what Cody is talking about and can't argue with it.

They walk together to Beto's workrooms, consisting of a fitting room, his personal office, and the actual workspace where he and his assistants put together the clothes. Cody is expressly forbidden from entering the sewing room, he's been told he'd probably wreck Beto's set-up. He doesn't argue with Beto, about that or most anything else.

Beto is in his office when they arrive, which saves them from having to wait for him to show himself; he looks up at them over his narrow-rimmed glasses and then sighs and smiles like it's an obligation. “If it isn't the two Dukes,” he huffs, waving a hand loosely and getting up out of his chair. “You're late.” He directs this comment at Obi-Wan as if he is very personally disappointed.

“By all of two minutes,” Obi-Wan points out, amused, which only makes Beto's eyebrows inch further up his forehead. “I had to stop and pick up Cody on the way.”

“Mm, yes, I'm sure you did.” Beto puts his hands together, neatly, and shakes his head. “Very well, then. Everything is finished, assuming it fits properly, so let's get going. I have other things to do today.”

Cody raises his eyebrows at Obi-Wan, grinning, and gestures at Beto and the door to the fitting room. “Have fun, Kenobi.”

“Oh, I will,” Obi-Wan says, voice tinged slightly with wry sarcasm. Beto rolls his eyes and impatiently drags Obi-Wan away, so Cody drags Beto's chair over to a corner and sits down.

It’s a few minutes before Beto reemerges from the room, and another moment before Obi-Wan himself walks through the door, fussing minutely with the sleeves of his coat. Cody can’t entirely keep from gaping at him for a second before he remembers his decorum. As he really should have expected, Obi-Wan looks stunning. He’s wearing a deep, rich blue coat, sharply pressed with folded cuffs and an asymmetrical collar, gold embroidery curling up the sleeves and lapels to match the glinting buttons. Obi-Wan’s eyes flash sharply cold and bright in contrast and Cody has a brief, startling urge to comb his fingers through the waves of Obi-Wan’s hair.

Obi-Wan adjusts the coat a little, almost sheepishly, and says, “Beto assures me I’ve got this on right, but…” He shrugs.

Cody clears his throat, lightly, finding himself amused at Obi-Wan’s uncertainty, and tells him, “He’s right, you do.”

Beto gives him a look, which is decidedly smug and which Cody does not appreciate, then he says, “Of course I’m right, your highness, what do you take me for?”

“A good tailor,” Cody answers, approvingly.

“It’s ridiculously fancy,” Obi-Wan says, running his thumb over the embroidery on one of the sleeves.

Beto sighs, long-sufferingly, and gives Obi-Wan a withering look. “That is the point, sir, so I’ll thank you to stop complaining about some of my best work.”

Cody bites back a laugh and raises his eyebrows pointedly at his husband. “Yes, and in any case, Obi-Wan, you look nice.”

“I look just fine in normal clothes.”

“Do you mean the drab beige bathrobes you typically wear?” Beto asks, delicately, mouth curling with disdain. “I am not here to make you look just fine, jetii, I am here to make you look, dare I say, appropriately handsome.”

Cody tries not to laugh, he really does. He’s not entirely successful, but manages to keep the reaction contained to a quiet chuckle.

“They’re not bathrobes,” Obi-Wan splutters.

Beto gives him a tired look and a sigh. “Go try on the next things, jetii. I don’t have time to explain fashion to you and clearly my explanation would be wasted on you.”

Obi-Wan rolls his eyes, sighs, and marches back into the fitting room.

“At least you appreciate my work here,” Beto grumbles, half to himself, although he still has a pleased gleam in his eye. “Still, somebody’s going to have to explain to him that those jetii robes don’t do him any favors.”

Cody just snorts and leans back in his chair. He thinks that if that’s important to Beto, Beto can try to say something to Obi-Wan. Otherwise Cody doesn’t care, so long as Obi-Wan doesn’t go back to the robes for good. For political reasons.

The next outfit is mostly black, with details and embroidery in red, layered over a red tunic, and Cody approves of that one too, although Obi-Wan doesn’t seem to. Still, they proclaim that it fits, and move on to the rest: there are white things and gold and green and more blue, everything neat and not too dramatic, and Obi-Wan remains consistently unsure of the drama of it all but Cody’s quite adamant that everything is exactly right. He thinks Beto is on the border of laughing out loud at him.

Gods, there’s something absolutely, disgustingly unfair about having such an attractive riduur and not being able to do anything about it. Cody thinks he should earn some kind of medal for his self-control, if he deals with this successfully. In any case, he hardly thought this would be the hard part about marrying a jetii.

Chapter Text

The Council gives Obi-Wan a month to settle in on Mandalore before contacting him with a mission. He’s supposed to take Anakin to Thustra, in the Expansion region - it’s a planet that’s been part of the Republic for centuries, but has begun to side more with the Separatist movement that’s splitting the galaxy neatly in two. The world’s king has apparently been friends with Master Yoda for some two hundred years, which is why the old Grand Master agreed to send a pair of Jedi to attempt negotiations when the Senate asked. Obi-Wan is one of the Order’s best negotiators, and the fact that Thustra is fairly close to Mandalore makes the assignment an obvious one.

“The Senate wants to keep Thustra from seceding,” Mace Windu says, voice crackling just a bit. His face is serious and intent, visible even through the holo, and Obi-Wan sighs and nods.

“Understood,” he says.

“We’ve forwarded relevant information to your datapad,” Mace continues. “I know this is an unusual mission - there’s no treaty to sign here - but the Council is confident in your success. Please try to keep Skywalker from starting any more diplomatic incidents.”

“I will do my best, Master Windu,” Obi-Wan says, appropriately grave, inclining his head and swallowing back the smile threatening to ruin the moment. “Do you need anything else?”

“We’d appreciate more regular updates on your… current situation on Mandalore,” Mace says, twists the words current situation to sound like this is as much a mission as it is… whatever it is. Life, perhaps.

Obi-Wan just nods. “I’ll do my best. May the Force be with you, Master.”

“And with you,” Mace says before the holo flickers out. Obi-Wan sighs, stares at the palm-sized holoprojector for a moment before setting it on the side table by his chair.

He’ll have to let Cody know first, and then find Anakin and brief him.

He appreciates a mission, something like the routine he’d been used to before the revelation that a treaty with Mandalore would require a marriage, but at the same time - it’s taken all of the last month to get Cody’s advisors somewhat comfortable with him speaking up in meetings, and he’s finally allowed to be in the same room as Jak (as long as he doesn’t look at the older warrior for too long, or say anything beyond pleasantries, or move too quickly), and being gone for up to a month will… well, Obi’s just worried it’ll set things back.

And these are supposed to be his people, for all that Anakin fits in much better here.

(He’s had to scold Anakin a few times already, for letting his emotions get too out-of-control, and while his padawan had grumbled and huffed and gone off to meditate, Cody had seemed… annoyed, perhaps. It’s only to be expected - Jedi teachings and Mandalorian culture are practically the opposite ends of a spectrum, after all.)

But in any case, he has a mission, so Obi-Wan sighs and pushes himself to his feet and leaves his rooms behind, looking for Cody.

It turns out Cody’s sprawled on a couch in the library, reading a holonovel of some kind; he glances up from it when Obi-Wan walks over, a smile hovering on his lips. Obi-Wan likes the way Cody’s face warms and his eyes brighten when he smiles. (He shouldn’t notice that so much, but Cody is witty and wry and smart, and cares, and his smile is a warm inviting thing, like a caress.)

“Hey, Obi-Wan,” he says, casually, and Obi-Wan returns the smile without a thought.

“Hello, Cody. I was just contacted by the Council - they have a mission for Anakin and I, and we’ll need to leave tomorrow morning. I don’t know how long it’ll be, but it shouldn’t be too bad?” He shrugs a bit, dismissive.

Cody nods a bit, setting his novel aside. “Alright. What sort of thing?”

Obi-Wan sighs. “The Senate requested the Jedi send an envoy to Thustra to encourage the planet to remain in the Republic. Apparently reports say that Thustra’s king is considering joining the Separatist movement.” He tucks his hands behind his back, presses his lips together. This isn’t exactly the most vague mission he’s ever received, but it’s close.

“Encourage them, huh?” Cody says, amused, not-quite-laughing, and Obi-Wan snorts.

“That’s how the Senate apparently worded it when asking the Council. I was also told to keep Anakin from causing another diplomatic incident, but honestly,” and Obi-Wan smiles, wry, “I’m not superhuman. Well-” He pauses, considering. “I suppose technically the Force augments my abilities enough that by all technicalities I’d be considered superhuman, but-”

He stops, because Cody is almost laughing at him, and he rubs a hand across is beard and sighs. “In any case,” he says, a bit sheepish, “sometimes, keeping Anakin from causing incidents is a lost cause.”

Cody laughs for real this time (it’s a nice laugh, full and rich), grins. “Somehow, I knew that.”

Obi-Wan laughs himself, says, “It’s really not that surprising. In any case, I’ll keep you updated on the timeframe.” And, as much as he’d like to stay and continue talking, “I need to go brief Anakin and prepare.”

Cody nods. “Be careful, then, Obi-Wan,” he says, picking his novel back up, and Obi-Wan nods.

“I will.”

~~~

Cody hadn’t thought that he would really miss Obi-Wan. Certainly, he’s gotten used to the Jedi being around, gotten used to him being at dinner and meetings and around the library, and he’s fairly confident that he can consider Obi-Wan a friend. (Always good, to be friends with your riduur.) All the same, he had assumed that briefly going back to the usual status quo would be simple, perhaps more uncomplicated. Instead, it’s no longer normal - it’s strange leaving his room for breakfast and not seeing Obi-Wan’s door open and not finding Obi-Wan downstairs attempting to offer help to some of the servants. Cody certainly doesn’t admit this to anyone, least of all Rex, but it reminds him somewhat of being younger when his buir was around more between assignments, and every time he left for a mission, Cody would have to get used to life minus someone important to him. Funny how quickly he has grown used to Obi-Wan - strange, almost. Still, after the first couple days, everything is fine enough.

Despite that fact that he does, somehow, miss Obi-Wan.

Obi-Wan comms each day to inform him, loosely, of their progress, and Cody appreciates the regularity. It’s something to look forward to, almost, and a way to know that everything’s going well. For about five days, he makes do with that, brief comms with Obi-Wan in between his other responsibilities - but then on the sixth day since Obi-Wan left, there’s no comm.

Cody assumes, for the time being, that it’s merely a delay, but he considers what he should do if something has happened to Obi-Wan, to deal with the pinch of worry. He doesn’t know much about Thustra, or Obi-Wan’s mission, but should it become necessary, he expects he’ll have to go get his riduur, jetii mission or no.

He tells Rex about the new development, and Rex tells him he’s sure Obi-Wan will be fine. “He seems tough, for a skinny jetii,” Rex says.

Cody rolls his eyes at him, but Rex isn’t wrong. He’s sure that Obi-Wan will have things handled, whatever is going on. As a couple days pass without further word or news from Obi-Wan, however, Cody can’t help being worried - he wants his husband to be alright, and he doesn’t know when he should be worried enough to interfere. Ruusaan advises him to wait, mostly particularly since this is a Jedi and Republic issue that Obi-Wan is meant to be dealing with.

So Cody does wait.

Before it becomes too concerning, however, he gets a comm during supper which, when he answers it, is Obi-Wan. Cody hadn’t expected to be so relieved to hear his voice.

“I apologize for the lack of communication, I’m afraid we had some difficulties,” Obi-Wan explained, sounding entirely too casual about it (he fits in with the Mandalorians, Cody thinks, if that’s his attitude about being kept from comming for half a week). “We should be home in two or three days.”

Cody's glad to hear it. He has to tell Obi-Wan about what he and his advisors have been discussing - it's been decided that they'll attempt to find a way to get an informant inside Vizsla's clan - Cody and Ursa and Cato have been suggesting they choose someone among their own to go join Pre, rather than trying to sway someone who may simply turn around and tell Pre what they're doing. Cody wants Obi-Wan's input on the issue. Additionally, they're discussing sending people to scout out Concordia, as it seems that's where Pre has set up operations for the time being.

Still, Cody must admit to having none of this in mind when he goes to meet Obi-Wan and Anakin returning to the palace - Anakin looks a bit singed and exceedingly grumpy, and Obi-Wan himself is a bit ruffled, his robes out of place, and Cody quickly catalogues something wrong and stiff about Obi-Wan's shoulder, although the Jedi himself looks only mildly put out.

Cody walks up to both of them, nods his head. “Obi-Wan. Anakin. You seem to have misplaced yourselves, somewhat - what happened?”

Obi-Wan sighs, long-sufferingly, and says, “Everything went perfectly fine until the Thustran king decided to attempt to have us assassinated, blew up our ship, and forced us to gallivant through the countryside on a nice, scenic scramble to evade death.” He sighs again, shaking his head, and Cody smiles a bit.

“Ah, just a bit of excitement then,” he says, nodding. “I’m glad you’re back, I’d been contemplating whether I should make rescue plans when I got your comm.”

“Indeed,” Obi-Wan says, chuckling, and Cody gestures for him to walk with him to their rooms, checking over Obi-Wan’s shoulder again. Maybe they should head for the medical wing first thing, to make sure he’s alright. “Unless I’m out of contact for over a week, you shouldn’t need rescue plans - usually it’s just unsafe for me to use my comm.”

“I assumed as much. You didn’t miss much, frankly, just some more meetings.” Cody smiles, nods at him. “What’d you do to your shoulder?”

“Blasterfire - it’s minimal and will heal up in a few days, I’ve got a bacta patch on it and it’s been wrapped,” Obi-Wan says, sighing.

“Do you want to see my doctors or did someone look at it already? Somebody besides yourself, I mean.”

“Anakin looked it over for me.”

Cody shoots a dubious look at Anakin, who’s currently picking at a burnt place on his robe with an irritated expression on his face, and then looks back at Obi-Wan. “No offense to you, Anakin, but I think obtaining a second opinion would make sense.”

Obi-Wan shakes his head slightly. “As I said, it’ll heal up in a few days - it’s fine.” The way Anakin looks at him, distinctly disapproving, would say otherwise.

“I’m sure it will.” Cody folds his hands behind his back and smiles. “All the same, someone with more experience than you should decide about that.”

“That won’t be necessary-”

“He’s bad at actually going to doctors,” Anakin interrupts, matter-of-fact, with an almost conspiratorial look. “You’ll probably have to drag him.”

“Anakin,” Obi-Wan says, crossing his arms and then wincing.

“Well, I can certainly manage that,” Cody says, mostly kidding, and putting a hand on Obi-Wan’s good shoulder. “Unfortunately, I insist.”

Obi-Wan huffs, irritably. “Fine, of course I’d love to see your doctor.”

Cody smiles at him, innocently, and steers him forward a little faster. “Excellent, that’s a very wise decision.”

Anakin laughs - Cody’s glad someone besides him finds this amusing.

~~~

Obi-Wan is quite alright, thank you very much, he does not need to see a doctor. “I have,” he says, conversationally, as Cody gently but firmly guides him along the warm, light hallway, “survived many a mission with just Anakin’s field medicine and what healing I could do.” Healing oneself is always more difficult than healing another, but all the same.

Cody makes an interesting little noise, sounds distinctly unimpressed. “How fortunate that won’t be necessary this time.”

“You are insufferable,” Obi-Wan mutters under his breath, tucks his arms behind him (and deliberately stifles the wince - his shoulder is still sore and he hasn’t been taking pain meds, prefering to keep his thoughts clear). “This is hardly the first time I’ve been shot, Cody, and I have survived thus far without complications.”

Cody huffs out an irritated breath. “Obi-Wan, that has little bearing on whether medical attention is necessary.”

Ever-so-helpfully, Anakin interjets, “He’ll argue this with you all afternoon if you let him, Cody.”

“Anakin,” Obi-Wan says, again.

“What? It’s true, you’re terrible about this. Just let your husband fuss and quit complaining.”

He is not complaining, thank you very much.

“I like Anakin’s idea,” Cody says wryly.

Obi-Wan thinks he’s being ganged up on.

“For the record,” he says, “I am not complaining.”

“You are, but that’s perfectly alright,” his husband says, and the little twist to his smile makes Obi-Wan suspicious even before he finishes the last half of his statement. “Lots of people are afraid of visiting the doctors.”

Anakin is laughing.

“Cody,” Obi-Wan snaps, in the tone reserved for the worst of Anakin’s shenanigans (and which his padawan definitely recognizes, given the increase in laughter). “I am not- That is-” He stops, swears to himself, rubs at his forehead, and finally, with much finality, pronounces, “Mir’osik.”

Cody simply laughs, grinning warm and fond. “The truth is hard to accept sometimes, Obi-Wan.”

Kriffing- insufferable, smug idiot - Obi-Wan’s eyes flicker down to Cody’s lips for just a heartbeat before he regains control back, stares straight ahead and doesn’t deign to look at either of his two companions. Anakin is still wheezing from laughter, and Cody’s eyes are far too bright right now. “I am not speaking to you,” he informs Cody, and for some reason this makes Anakin laugh harder (Obi-Wan didn’t know that was possible).

“Real mature, Master,” he gasps out.

Obi-Wan straightens his shoulders (oops, ow, that hurts) and walks forward, and resolves to ignore both of them.

The resolution doesn’t last long, of course - once they arrive at the palace’s private medical wing, they’re met by a middle-aged woman with a severe bun and neat scrubs, a nametag proclaiming her to be Br. Micaela Vevut. She takes one look at Obi-Wan, marks his shoulder immediately (surprising him, although perhaps it shouldn’t), and points at an examination table. “Sit down, sir.”

Obi-Wan considers arguing, glances over at Cody - who is lightly nudging him forward by his uninjured shoulder - and decides to sit down.

Br. Vevut is businesslike and brisk, but she’s gentle as she helps Obi-Wan pull his tunic and tabard over his head, revealing the fairly neat bandaging job and the bacta patch. “How long ago was this done?” she asks, starting to unwind the bandages, and Obi-Wan frowns, looking over at Anakin for help.

“Three days?” He shrugs his good shoulder.

“Something like that,” Anakin agrees.

He can feel the doctor’s sigh. “Bacta patches should be changed-”

“Daily for the best effect, I know,” Obi-Wan says. “We didn’t have time or the extra supplies.”

“A poor excuse,” she grumbles, and then without warning rips the bacta patch off.

Obi-Wan tenses and swears through the pain, glares at Anakin, who looks far too amused, doesn’t look over at Cody, sure he’ll see a similar expression on his face. “I wouldn’t call it an excuse,” he says, mildly. “But it certainly is a reason.”

They’re always careful with their emergency medical supplies - after all, you never know when you  might need them for a much more severe injury than a simple blaster wound to the shoulder.

~~~

Cody knows that he should probably be focused on Obi-Wan’s injury, or Br. Vevut’s evaluation, but he can’t help a bit of distraction, owing to an unlikely dusting of freckles on Obi-Wan’s shoulders and a few rough scars elsewhere - one scar, like a starburst, from a blaster bolt, stands out pale against the skin of Obi-Wan’s abdomen, and Cody wants to know where it came from, what had happened. It’s evident that Obi-Wan has not lived a quiet life, equally evident that it suits him well. Cody forces himself to refocus and drag his eyes back to Obi-Wan’s soft, blue eyes. He doesn’t think Obi-Wan noticed his lapse in attention, which he’s grateful for. Anakin, on the other hand, gives him a smug look.

“It doesn’t really matter what you call it,” Br. Vevut says, briskly. “I’ll rebandage it, and I expect you to either come back every day or,” she glances at Cody, “have someone make sure you’re taken care of.”

Cody nods sagely as if he’s been listening very closely. He’s begun to get the idea that Obi-Wan’s not particularly consistent about receiving medical attention, which he doesn’t approve of.

“Of course,” Obi-Wan says, and Cody huffs slightly and gives him a look.

“Do you mean that?” he asks, mildly, lips quirking up slightly.

“No,” Anakin answers.

“I’m shocked.” Cody shakes his head, disappointedly. “Lying to the baar’ur and your riduur, Obi-Wan, unbelievable.”

“I’m not lying,” Obi-Wan says, giving Anakin a scolding look, which doesn’t convince Cody in the slightest. He just shakes his head again.

Anakin raises his eyebrows, pleased with himself. “Oh of course, just like every other time you ‘weren’t lying.’”

“Well,” Br. Vevut says, looking mildly amused, “I’m sure you will keep him on track, Duke Fett?”

Cody nods, politely, trying not to look too smug and undoubtedly failing. “Of course. That’s part of my job.”

Obi-Wan just mutters incoherently, while Vevut cleans the partly-healed blaster wound in his muscled shoulder and sets about rebandaging it. Cody laughs at him, a little, which garners no more than an injured look from Obi-Wan. Unfortunately, the result is that then everyone is quiet, which makes him a touch uncomfortable, suddenly. His eyes wander to Obi-Wan’s scars and freckles again, of their own accord, and he tightens his crossed arms over his chest and studiously drops his gaze to the floor. He has enough on his mind without this being a problem, too. Wanting more than he can have.

Br. Vevut tapes off the last of Obi-Wan’s bandage, gives his shoulder a once-over, then nods once. “That should do it. Try not to use this shoulder for much, until it’s better - no need to aggravate it for no reason.”

“Of course.” Obi-Wan picks up his tunic and carefully pulls it on (Cody tries not to be disappointed), wincing a bit. “Thank you, baar’ur.”

Vevut just shakes her head a bit and smiles slightly, says, “You’re welcome,” in a tone that says she’s found this whole experience a bit tiresome. Maybe because Obi-Wan is a di’kut.

As they leave the medical wing, Cody keeps himself from putting a hand on Obi-Wan’s shoulder again, instead folding his hands behind his back and teasing him some more about his inability to deal with doctors. Obi-Wan pretends to ignore him and Anakin, but Cody can tell he’s irritated, which amuses him more than it should. When they get to Obi-Wan’s rooms, the Jedi says that he’s tired and needs a shower, and Cody smiles and tells him to enjoy his day off before they’re back to meetings.

He doesn’t mention the three more potted plants he personally put in Obi-Wan’s rooms while he was gone.

~~~

The next day is, as Cody had warned him it would be, meetings.

The morning is nice and relaxed, though - apparently Riska is decidedly not a morning person and refuses to show up to any meeting scheduled before eleven, which has resulted in most meetings being scheduled after lunch.

This doesn’t bother Obi-Wan in the slightest - he appreciates the time to sit and meditate, to take care of his plants (including the newest ones that showed up while he was gone, apparently, Cody’s overdoing himself), to meet Cody, Rex, Boba, and Anakin in the library for breakfast. It’s nice, feels like normalcy, even though this is a routine they’ve only had for around a month.

It could be dangerous, he thinks, letting himself get used to this.

He almost doesn’t care.

Almost.

In any case, after a late breakfast he and Anakin take some time for training purposes, then later in the afternoon he leaves Anakin talking excitedly with some of the warriors in the training grounds and heads inside to meet Cody.

The meeting is apparently to further discuss what to do about Vizsla - Obi-Wan knows he’s missed some discussion on the subject, Cody had brought him up to speed over breakfast. All the same, there are a few housekeeping items gone through first before Ruusaan sighs and says, “We need to finalize our plans for infiltrating Vizsla’s household.”

“Agreed,” Ursa says, steepling her fingers together and frowning a bit. “We need to send someone we know we can trust not to fall into Vizsla’s rhetoric.”

“It’s not that hard,” Riska says, uncrossing and recrossing her feet on the table. “Just send one of us.”

“I doubt he’d believe any of you trying to defect,” Cody says, wry. “Especially not you, Riska.”

Obi-Wan snorts at the injured look on her face.

“I’m a great actor, your highness, I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she says, grinning.

Before anyone can respond to that, though, Bo-Katan clears her throat. “What about me,” she says, flat.

For a moment, everyone’s quiet.

Then Cody leans forward, smiling conspiratorially. “I guess you wouldn’t have to fake disagreeing with me. I’m not sure, do you think he’d believe it?”

“I would,” Cato mutters under his breath, stabs his vibroblade into the table for emphasis.

“Asshole,” Riska says.

“As much as I am loathe to say it,” Obi-Wan sighs, “she does have a point.” He leans forward a bit, meets Bo-Katan’s eyes. “Your dislike of me makes you more convincing and gives you a common ground with Pre.”

“Exactly,” the redhead says, cooly, inclining her head. “As for the rest, I can make him believe it.”

Elick narrows his eyes behind his glasses. “Don’t be overconfident,” he says, not-quite-sharply.

“I’m not,” Bo-Katan says, simply.

“I think you’re right, Bo-Katan,” Cody says. “As long as you were careful - I think you could do it. Is it alright with everyone if we go ahead with this plan?”

“I’m in,” Riska says cheerfully.

“I agree,” Ruusaan says, nodding.

And so it goes around the table, until everyone’s agreed and they move on to the next topic of discussion.

Apparently, said topic is sending someone to scout out Concordia.

“It would be beneficial,” Ruusaan says, “if we could learn what exactly Vizsla is doing.”

Elick pushes his glasses higher up on his nose and nods. “It’d let us plan more efficiently.”

Obi-Wan nods, thoughtful, strokes his beard for a minute and considers. “If you need someone to scout, I believe my particular skillset could be useful,” he says. “The Force can be used for, among other things, concealment, a subtle touch to convince a person that what they see is not there, nothing, not important.”

He’s not sure they trust him enough for this, yet. But he hopes they do - it’s a good suggestion, and he knows he could evade Vizsla’s men.

~~~

Cody notes the way his advisors exchange looks at Obi-Wan's suggestion, and Cato grunts disapprovingly and stabs the table again.

“Probably so,” he says. “Not sure this should be your job, your highness.”

Cody smiles a little and says, “Actually, Cato, I would like to consider this idea. He's correct, the Force would presumably be helpful - and this scouting trip is important enough, I think, to warrant his involvement.”

“Too important, maybe,” Bo-Katan grumbles, almost to herself.

“Enough, Bo-Katan.” Ruusaan's voice is firm as stone. “Your position is understood.” She leans forward, hands flat on the table they’re gathered around, and looks straight at Obi-Wan. “You have done this sort of thing before?”

Obi-Wan folds his hands. “I am hardly unfamiliar with sneaking around,” he says, mildly, as if it’s a ridiculous question. “The amount of missions I’ve been on where stealth was necessary is- quite a decent number.”

Ruusaan nods shortly. “And you could adequately collect information and report it back, I’m sure, if we were-” she ignores a look from Bo-Katan, “-to send you?”

Obi-Wan snorts, and smiles a little. “I’ve been in active combat zones since I was thirteen, I do believe I know what to look for.” He pauses, then says, more seriously, “To more simply answer your question - yes, I could.”

“Excellent. I think perhaps it would be wise for you to have a partner, especially you’re not as familiar with our culture. And it may ease some of our minds.” Ruusaan glances sharply at some of the others, and Elick makes a smug face at Riska, who rolls her eyes.

Cody nods, slowly, then leans back and says, “I agree. I believe, in fact, that this might be important enough that I should go.” He ignores everyone’s expressions, for the moment, looking at Obi-Wan instead. “This is something of a personal issue as well as a public one, for me, and it’s been a while since I’ve taken on any missions.”

Cato frowns, thoughtfully, and shakes his head. “Don’t know if this’d be worth your time,” he says, frankly.

“I doubt it will take long, and you all are perfectly capable of managing, I’m sure,” Cody says. “And in any case, I think it seems appropriate that I go with my riduur.”

“That’s true.” Ursa twists a loose strand of hair behind her ear with quick fingers and shakes her head. “If you think this is the best way to handle this, then we may as well proceed.”

“Sounds like fun,” Obi-Wan says, smiling just a little, and Cody chuckles.

Riska nods approvingly, and Elick is giving Cody an… odd look, suspiciously knowing, which Cody doesn’t really understand. He chooses not to bring it up, and tells them he and Obi-Wan will make plans and keep them updated - from there they move on to a discussion of the budget, because they’ve been attempting to decide what funds to allot to education and trade.

Cody leaves the meeting with Elick and Riska, as it’s been a little while since they’ve all had a drink; they go to the storage cellar and Elick collects slightly-dusty clay mugs from the shelves to fill for them. Riska sits down on a wine barrel, Cody drags over a crate, and Elick ends up cross-legged on the floor after passing around their mugs brimming with ale. Riska sips hers and sighs, irritably. “Kriffing meetings,” she pronounces, decisively. “Sometimes I regret being an advisor for you, Cody.”

“Sure you do,” he grumbles, grinning. “You know you’re good at it.”

“Doesn’t mean I like listening to Ruusaan lecture all the time. I think she thinks I’m going to ruin all our traditions.”

“Probably because you are,” Elick mutters into his mug, grouchily. “You can’t even sit right at meetings.”

“If you bring that up one more gods-damned time, Elick Rook, I’m going to break your glasses.”

“Oh yeah, because you haven’t tried that already.”

Cody pinches his nose and shakes his head. “Guys, I swear, every time we do this?”

“It’s not my fault,” Elick says.

“You literally started it!” Riska swears under her breath and crosses her arms, then gives Cody a smirking look and says, “So, burc’ya, how’s it going with your riduur?”

Cody shrugs. “You know, fine, I guess.”

Both of them look at him flatly for a moment, eyes unimpressed, and Elick circles his hand meaningfully. “Come on, it's gotta be more than ‘fine I guess’ to make you want to go on a solo mission with him,” he points out, as if it's obvious to everyone but Cody.

“It’s just a practical decision, Elick,” Cody says, sighing. “Someone had to go along or you all weren’t going to trust him, and I’ll get it better than him-”

“Yeah, we got that part,” Riska interrupts, cheerfully. “They’re not bad reasons, Cody, we’re not saying that. But Elick is right for once - what’s up, you wanting some proper alone time with your riduur?”

Cody shakes his head, irritably, and sighs again, taking a long sip of his ale. “If I did - which I don’t - I wouldn’t pick a scouting mission to get it. You do realize you’re not going to get any interesting stories out of this marriage, given that my husband’s a Jedi.”

“I don’t really see the problem,” Riska says, glibly. “You think he’s hot, objectively you’re hot, and you two are married. I’m not judging you for wanting some time away from everybody. Neither is Elick.” She kicks out in Elick’s direction, and Elick rolls his eyes. “Right?”

“Right,” Elick says. He smiles a little, pushes up his glasses, and leans his elbows on his knees. “I bet you guys will have fun.”

Cody rubs his forehead with one hand, trying not to be unduly annoyed. Sure, Obi-Wan is “hot.” And sure, there are times he wouldn’t mind his fair share of “alone time” with his husband. But that’s not what this mission is for, and he doesn’t expect anything out of it, whatever his friends say - and in any case, he doesn’t really want that. Just because he appreciates Obi-Wan and finds him attractive doesn’t actually mean he needs anything out of this relationship other than what they have now.

“Leave off,” Cody says, with no heat behind the words. “You’re both gods-damned di’kute. I’m not interested in discussing my non-existent love life with you.” After all, there’s no point.

~~~

Anakin’s reaction to the news of the scouting mission is- well, it’s predictable.

“Master,” he gasps, mock-surprised, “are you going on a mission alone with him?”

Obi-Wan sighs, rubs at his temples and folds the last shirt, neatly tucks it into his pack and slings it over his shoulders. “Honestly, Anakin,” he mutters, rolls his eyes a bit. “Yes, I’m going on a mission with him. No, it doesn’t mean anything.” He can practically feel Anakin rolling his eyes.

“Well, you are married,” his padawan says, smugly. “You’re allowed to want to go on trips alone with your husband, get some alone time… it’s all very romantic.”

“Anakin.”

“What?”

“Just stay out of trouble while I’m gone,” Obi-Wan says with a tired sigh, heading to the door of his rooms - honestly, he doesn’t even know why Anakin’s in here, he has his own room. “Think you can manage that, my dear padawan?”

“I don’t know, Master,” Anakin says, thoughtful, tilting his head to one side, “that sounds pretty difficult.”

Obi-Wan sighs again and shakes his head, pushes the door open. “Then I’ll make it more simple,” he says, glancing back over his shoulder with emphasis. “Don’t do anything that’ll get me in trouble.”

“Fine,” Anakin grumbles. “You’re no fun, Master.”

Obi-Wan doesn’t even dignify that with an answer, just strides out of his room - he has to meet Cody at the ship they’re taking to Concordia in five minutes anyway. Don’t let my plants die, he admonishes, feels a grudging agreement in response.

After all, he likes his plants, and it’d be a shame to have to ask Cody for more.

When he gets out to the private landing platform behind the palace, Cody’s loading the last of their supplies into their ship. He looks over when Obi-Wan walks up, tosses him a loose salute. “Hey, Obi-Wan. Ready to go?”

“As I’ll ever be,” Obi-Wan says, nodding. “I told Anakin how to take care of the plants - hopefully he listens. He’s not, ah, very good with them.”

Cody chuckles, stepping up onto the ship’s ramp - Obi-Wan follows him. “If all else fails, I can always get you some more.”

Obi-Wan smiles a bit sheepishly, rubs the back of his neck briefly before dropping his pack down with the rest of their supplies. “I suppose so,” he says. Not that he’d ask. “Do we have any points of interest to scout out?”

“I’m not sure,” Cody says, and Obi-Wan nods. “Bo-Katan is going to keep us updated as we get in contact with Vizsla.”

“I’ve been doing some research on Concordia,” he says. “It used to be a mining colony, correct? That would imply there are old, abandoned mines and digging sites we could take a look around. If Vizsla is trying to hide anything, that seems like a good place to.”

“Yes, that ought to be a good starting point,” Cody says, sitting down in the pilot’s chair in the cockpit and initiating the startup sequence. Obi-Wan takes the copilot’s seat, watches Cody’s hands as they move over the controls, practiced and easy.

Cody has nice hands.

And that has nothing to do with anything, and he needs to focus. “This should be fairly simple,” he says, stroking his beard, thoughtfully. “As long as we avoid notice, that is.”

They continue to discuss the strategy of their scouting mission through the short flight to the moon - it shouldn’t be more than a week or two long of a mission, Cody says, and Obi agrees. The moon is small and there can only be so many points of interest for them to scout out.

As long as Bo-Katan comes through, this should be simple.

Chapter Text

Concordia has been abandoned long enough that there’s never been any reason for Cody to pay it a visit, and as he pilots their ship in for a quiet landing in a crater, Cody thinks he would prefer that had remained the case. There’s a reason this place is abandoned, and it’s not because it was too scenic. He sighs as he powers down the engines, and leans back in his seat, reaching out to get his helmet off the ledge above the controls before he gets up.

“Welcome to Concordia, Obi-Wan,” he says, wryly, glancing over as Obi-Wan stands up from the copilot’s seat. “I hope you didn’t expect this to be fun.”

Obi-Wan chuckles, and Cody pulls his helmet on. “Compared to some places I’ve been, this is a paradise.”

“I think you’re being dramatic,” Cody says, smiling a little. “But I suppose I’m forced to take your word for it.”

“Have you ever been to Tatooine?” Obi-Wan retorts, smiling amusedly.

“Fair enough. And no, I’ve had no occasion to visit a desert planet in the Outer Rim.”

Obi-Wan laughs. “Trust me, you don’t want to have an occasion to visit that dustball.”

Cody picks up his pack and another duffel of supplies, gestures clumsily for Obi-Wan to do the same. “So I’m gathering,” he says, wryly.

They move all of their supplies out of the ship, to set up a temporary camp - Cody’s used enough to this that he’s significantly more efficient than Obi-Wan, although he knows Rex and most of his verde would laugh at him for being slow. He mentions to Obi-Wan that he thinks it would make more sense to get situated for the night, then start searching the next day. The ship is left to an R2 unit, which beeps irritably at both of them (Cody knows barely enough binary to understand that the droid doesn’t to be here) before powering the ship back up itself. The plan is for them to call for a pick-up when they feel they’ve completed the mission - having a ship sitting around won’t really help with the stealth aspect of things.

Everything’s far more quiet and alone when the ship is gone, so Cody focuses on his tasks and on mindless banter with Obi-Wan, to avoid being too aware of the fact that it’s just him and Obi-Wan there now, for however long this mission takes.

That’s not a bad thing. It’s just going to be… interesting.

When the supplies are laid out, a tent pitched, and the sun low enough that the smoke from a campfire wouldn't draw undue attention, Cody sets about building a fire by the wall of the crater, because it'll be cold tonight and cooked food is infinitely better than ration bars. As he does, arranging kindling and a few loose twigs (there's barely any plant life here, mostly dry brush and bits of moss) with chilly fingers, he recites the old ritual lines for honoring the dead, like he learned when he was younger. “I’m still alive, but you are gone. I remember you, so you are eternal.” Then he sighs to himself and repeats the short list of names to himself, like he does every day, the names of everyone he’s lost. He's glad there haven't been many, and none in the past few years, but the remembrance still always makes him ache a little: for his friends, Manel, Caris, Satine; and still the worst, for his mother, Ileah. She'd died after she had Boba, and sometimes Cody thinks that's why Jango stopped being as invested in leading Mandalore. Cody sighs again and sits back on his heels, and there’s a bit of shuffling behind him and he looks over his shoulder to see Obi-Wan.

“A remembrance?” Obi-Wan asks, quietly, and Cody nods and pulls a container of matches out of his pack, strikes one and lets the flame catch on the moss and paper he used for tinder.

“Yeah. We do that every day, usually.”

Obi-Wan sits down in a chair he’s set up by the growing fire, nodding. “I read about it,” he says.

“Ah, yes, of course you did,” Cody answers, smiling slightly. “I suppose you’re an expert now.”

Obi-Wan chuckles. “As if,” he says, amused, eyes warm. Cody shakes his head, with a smile, and digs back into his pack for some of their food supplies, so he can start putting a meal together. “Can I help with anything?”

“No, this isn’t all that complicated. Thanks, though.” Cody smiles and glances over at him, thoughtful. “What do you jetiise do, for people that die?”

“We have funeral pyres,” Obi-Wan says, with a light shrug. “As for mourning - we are encouraged to let go of grief, because those who have passed on to the Force aren’t really gone, just one with the Force.” Cody frowns a little. “I kept my Master’s lightsaber, after he died, as a reminder,” Obi-Wan adds, thoughtfully.

“What do you mean, ‘let go of grief’?” Cody asks, sincerely - he somewhat understands, but he wants to know how the Jedi try to do that, and why. He leaves their meal cooking and moves back to sit in a chair of his own.

Obi-Wan rubs his beard, frowning a little thoughtfully. “Jedi are taught to release emotions and attachments to the Force,” he says, slowly, which isn’t particularly clear either, although based on some of what Cody’s heard Obi-Wan saying to Anakin, he thinks it has to do with emotional control. “I don’t know how to explain it to a null, I’m sorry,” Obi-Wan says, with a sigh, which rankles slightly. Cody decides not to comment on that.

“You’re always telling Anakin to be aware of his emotions,” he says, musing. “Are you saying the goal is to not feel them at all?”

“The goal is to feel without allowing our emotions to control or affect us, I suppose,” Obi-Wan answers thoughtfully.

Cody stifles a snort of amusement and nods politely instead. There are times and places, he well knows, to put duty before what he might be feeling personally - they’re Mando’ade, all his people know. But what Obi-Wan’s talking about sounds too detached, almost, like they expect to be above normal sentient impulses. “An interesting concept,” he says, mildly. He doesn’t want to have an argument with his riduur over this, it doesn’t seem worth it.

~~~

Obi-Wan expects that by interesting, Cody means ridiculous, but since Mandalorians are such a uniquely and deeply emotional people that’s hardly a surprise. “There is no emotion, there is peace,” he recites, the words worn smooth from frequent repetition. “One of the lines of the Jedi Code.”

Cody tilts his head to one side, almost-thoughtful seeming, says, “I don’t personally understand that. How do you expect to make that work practically?”

“Emotions can cloud our perception of the Force,” Obi-Wan explains. “We strive to eliminate that bias by assessing our feelings and letting them dissipate. The Force usually brings a kind of serenity, when one is attuned to it - usually. As of late everything’s been Darker, more tumultuous…” He sighs, looks off into the distance a moment, lets the near-constant danger roll over him a moment, then shakes himself. “Something is coming, we all know that. And, ah-” he pauses, cringes just a bit, “-I’ve gotten slightly off-topic.”

Cody smiles, seems almost fond, says, “So now the Force is biasing your view of your emotions instead,” a bit of amusement in his voice.

Obi-Wan opens his mouth, starts to respond, and then stops. “That’s- that’s not-” He shakes his head, more firmly. “That’s not how it works.”

“Well, pardon my misunderstanding. I suppose a, what did you call it, a ‘null’-” Obi-Wan grimaces - that’d been a slip of the tongue “-can’t properly understand the concept.” Cody’s teasing, the smile still on his face, but all the same.

“I’m sorry,” Obi-Wan says, sheepish. “I shouldn’t have called you a null, it’s- rude.” Intentional or not, the pointed tone in Cody’s voice makes it clear he took some offense to the term.

“Indeed,” Cody says, with a smile. “I noticed.”

Obi-Wan cringes, then sighs, returns the smile. “Is there anything else you’re curious about?” he asks. “We have the time, might as well ask.”

Cody laughs, warm and rich, and goes quiet, considering. “Why are you all so involved with the politics of other planets?”

Obi-Wan sighs, rubs at his forehead. “The Order’s political position has become… far more entangled with the Republic Senate than we’d like, but the succinct answer is that our presence is often requested by planetary governments to negotiate as an impartial third party, and the Senate also tends to utilize us in that regard.”

“That’s interesting,” Cody says, sighing. “Impartial due to that lack of pesky emotions, right?”

“I suppose,” Obi-Wan says. “Or rather - due to the lack of bias created by pesky emotions. That’s the goal, at least. There are times when I wonder about-” He cuts himself off before he can finish the thought, shaking his head. He has, at times, wondered about the strange dichotomy presented by the Jedi Code, when the Master-padawan relationship is founded on attachment, and when many of the ways they interact with the Force are influenced by or based on emotions - but now is hardly the time to be wondering about the values at the center of the Order.

“Frankly, Obi-Wan, I don’t think your opinions on emotional detachment make any sense,” Cody says, honestly, and Obi-Wan sighs.

“That’s fair,” he says. “There are times I question it myself. Especially when the will of the Force - which is what the Jedi are supposed to follow beyond all else - seems to conflict with the Code. The Order is… it has stagnated.” He sighs again, rubs at his eyes. “I’m sorry, none of that is relevant. Things have been- We can all sense that there’s a war coming, and the Force lacks clarity these days.”

He supposes this is probably far more information than Cody wanted to hear.

~~~

Obi-Wan evidently thinks a lot about the philosophy of his Order, which Cody supposes is a good thing, and which is also adorably nerdy of him. Not that it makes that philosophy any less ridiculous, a bunch of mystical bullshit about ignoring your emotions so you can listen to the Force, like that even makes sense. He shifts a little and stares at their fire, shrugging. “Well, hopefully you’re wrong about a war, Obi-Wan,” he says, mildly. “I’m trying to avoid dealing with that again.”

Obi-Wan huffs slightly and smiles. “I hope so,” he agrees.

Cody shakes his head, leans forward to shift around the container he’s using to cook their food. “The civil wars were horrible,” he comments, absently, sighing a bit. “I was just old enough to fight, at the end, when my buir was trying to get everyone to stop fighting - he was always talking about how Mandalore would be better, if it was united. I wasn’t sure before I went and saw all of it myself, had to fight - we lost Bo-Katan’s sister Satine and some of our other friends and I wasn’t actually sure why it happened. So then I told my buir I wanted to help fix things, because I didn’t want to keep doing that, all the time.”

Obi-Wan sighs and nods, knowingly. “I’ve never had to fight on the front lines of a war, but I’ve gotten caught in the middle of conflicts before.” He pauses. “The closest thing to fighting on the front lines that I’ve experienced was during the Trade Federation’s invasion of Naboo.”

“I remember hearing about that.” Cody nods, thoughtfully. “Things like that are, I admit, part of why I have no interest in joining the Republic - there seem to be too many issues of corruption, for my taste. I assume Stewjon feels the same?”

“You should,” Obi-Wan says, with a smile, and Cody chuckles and nods. Sighing, Obi-Wan adds, “I was one of the two Jedi ambassadors involved in the, ah, negotiations during that event.”

“You don’t seem to have been terribly successful,” Cody teases.

Obi-Wan smiles, acknowledging the criticism with a wry twist of his lips. “Unfortunately, no. The Trade Federation was working with the Sith - they weren’t exactly open to negotiating.”

“A common thread, is that?”

“They prefer to kill first and ask questions never, from my experience,” Obi-Wan says, dry, but he looks a little bitter.

Cody thinks that perhaps most of his people would find that statement slightly ironic coming from a Jedi, especially Jak - but he keeps that thought to himself, given that it’s decidedly biased and uncivil, and just snorts and nods his head in agreement. “Some of my people might appreciate that strategy, I think - but it tends to cause… problems.”

Obi-Wan nods. “Problems and a lot of needless death,” he says, quietly, eyes straying away from their fire and supplies to focus vaguely on the walls of the crater. Cody watches him for a second, wondering what he’s thinking about, and then sighs and looks back at the fire.

“Looks like our food’s ready,” he says, absently, and sets about divvying up the simple meal of grain and proteins for them both, passing a container to Obi-Wan. Everything is warm, the fire heating his face and hands, the meal, Obi-Wan’s eyes, all of it a good protection from the chill air at his back.

Obi-Wan seems a bit lost in thought, as he’s staring at Cody a little, but when Cody glances at him he smiles and says, “I think this is the most peaceful, ah, ‘camping trip’ I’ve been on in a long time.”

“Enjoy it while it lasts,” Cody teases, a bit. “I’m sure we’ll have plenty of excitement that we don’t want.”

“Good,” Obi-Wan says, with a laugh, and Cody can’t help being warmed further by that laugh and smile, “wouldn’t want things to get dull.”

“No, certainly not,” Cody says, raising an eyebrow at him and chuckling. “We wouldn’t want to have an easy time completing our mission.” He finds he wouldn’t mind excuses to stay here longer with Obi-Wan, although perhaps that’s not something he should want.

~~~

“Of course not,” Obi-Wan says, smiling more at Cody, teasing, “that’d take all the fun out of it.”

He’s been trying to decide what color Cody’s eyes are, in the firelight - they look warmer, richer, something golden-soft and shifting, captivating, almost. The reddish light flickers over Cody’s skin, outlines the scar curling around his eye in dramatic shadows, glances off his hair. Obi-Wan has a sudden, startling urge to run his fingers through it, covers that by lacing his fingers together in his lap.

“I imagine it would,” Cody says, chuckling, and really, he does have a nice laugh.

The night feels far less cold, suddenly.

Obi-Wan shares a grin with Cody for a moment, then sighs and leans back in his camp chair, looking absently up at the stars. “It always amazes me,” he says, more quietly, “when I travel to worlds with less light pollution. The stars are always so bright.” He sighs, says, “On Coruscant, you can hardly see them.”

“Yes, this is nice,” Cody says, and Obi-Wan looks briefly over at him to see he’s also looking up at the sky.

It’s a nice night, quiet, a cool breeze in the air. Peaceful. Out here, for the first time in a long time, it’s easy to shed away the layers of Jedi protocols and codes, the new responsibilities he has as a Duke (and the oh-so-careful dance he must play, being a Jedi on Mandalore), the stress of being the right Master for Anakin (especially when he knows Qui-Gon would’ve done so much better), and to just be himself, for once. Just Obi-Wan.

That is dangerous, he knows - he cannot forget who and what he is. A Jedi, one being considered for Mastery and a place on the Council.

But is it really so harmful, for just a few moments?

So he lets himself smile, say, not-quite-absently, “Of course, a nice night is nothing without good company.”

“Ah, I’m sorry it’s not a nice night, then,” Cody says, teasingly, and Obi-Wan surprises himself by laughing, something in his chest going light and odd at the feeling.

“On the contrary,” he says, smiling. “Although I’m afraid my company probably doesn’t live up to the standard.”

Cody smiles, warm and almost soft, says, “Actually, I’m quite enjoying your company, Obi-Wan - I admit, though, when you showed up here at first I didn’t expect we’d get along so well.” He raises an eyebrow, quirking his lips, and Obi-Wan chuckles and runs a hand over his beard.

“Ah, it’s all a part of my natural charm,” he says, mischievous. “Didn’t you know, that’s been my plan this whole time? Charming your government into falling at my feet.” He presses his lips together, tries to stifle the smile, can’t quite manage it. “Although, to be honest, I’m not sure what I’d do then, I never made it that far in my nefarious plotting.”

Cody narrows his eyes, seriously, although his amber-gold eyes glint with amusement and the Force echoes with the warmth of his contentment (it’s an almost intoxicating feeling, and honestly, Obi-Wan needs to come back to his senses, what is he doing?). “I’m afraid you’ll find the Mandalorians easily charmed - but now that I’m warned of your plans, they won’t work.”

“Oh, won’t they?” Obi-Wan asks, archly, quirking one eyebrow. “I can assure you I can be very charming when the need arises.”

“Can you?” Cody asks, flat, though even his impressive deadpan face can’t hide the amusement in the Force. “I hadn’t noticed.”

“Ah, well,” Obi-Wan sighs, waving one hand carelessly, “I suppose I’ll have to try harder, then.” He gives up on hiding the grin, leans forward in his chair, just a touch. “For purely political reasons, of course.”

The warmth of the Force and the light in Cody’s eyes count as political, right?

~~~

Cody has to wonder whether Obi-Wan is aware of what he’s doing to him, and whether he’s deliberately being unfair or if he’s just being obliviously natural. He can’t really complain, though, not when Obi-Wan’s leaning closer and smiling like they’re sharing a secret, almost attainable for a second. Cody smiles a bit mischievously himself and shakes his head. “Of course, what other reason could you possibly have?”

Obi-Wan’s smile curls into almost a smirk, eyes going very bright. “Well, that smile is a pretty good one,” he says, and leans back quite smugly into his chair.

For just a second, Cody finds himself enough off his guard that he can’t draw his eyes away from Obi’s smug smile, thinks it would be so easy to take the almost-invitation and close the small-enough distance and see if he could wipe that self-satisfied look off Obi-Wan’s face. Then he catches himself, stifles the impulse and settles instead for a broader grin and a shrug. “Maybe that was my nefarious plot,” he says, teasingly. “To charm you into being one of us.”

Obi-Wan laughs. “For once,” he says, “I’ve been out-negotiated.”

“What can I say, every once in a while I do something clever,” Cody jokes, crossing his arms over his chest and examining a scuffed bit of paint on his armor.

“For shame,” Obi-Wan says, a near-chuckle making his voice warm, “I thought Mandalorians weren’t supposed to be clever.” Cody scowls in mock-offense, although it’s clear Obi-Wan’s teasing - the reaction makes his riduur laugh again.

“Even you’ve fallen for our deception,” Cody says, with some finality. “Underestimate the Mando’ade at your own peril, Obi.”

Obi-Wan looks away, although if Cody’s not mistaken, he’s blushing a little, and says quietly, “Perilous is an understatement.” There’s something about his tone that sobers Cody a little, and he just chuckles and shrugs in response.

“I guess maybe I should apologize for that.”

Obi-Wan glances back at him with another warm smile, although he seems more serious, now, and says, “Never apologize for who you are.”

Cody sits back a bit and looks at the fire, struggling with an odd sense of disappointment. “No, of course not,” he says, lightly. “That’s not our way.”

“Of course it isn’t,” Obi-Wan answers, wryly. “Mandalorians are just as bad at apologizing as the Jedi.”

Cody chuckles and shakes his head and leans his forearms on his knees. “You’re not wrong there.”

There’s a bit of quiet, then Obi-Wan sighs and Cody hears him shift and stand up from his chair. “As nice as this is,” the Jedi says, “we should get an early start in the morning.”

“Yeah, you’re right.” Cody gets up from his chair, himself, and crouches to put out the fire with water from his canteen, trying not to be frustrated. He doesn’t know what he really expected, after all. Weren’t they just talking about the Jedi’s belief in emotional control? It would be ridiculous of him to think this would be an exception to the rule.

“Goodnight,” Obi-Wan says, and Cody nods without looking at him, smiles a bit.

“Goodnight, Obi-Wan.”

He stays out by the fire a bit longer after he hears Obi-Wan walk away and into the tent they’re sharing, to make sure the fire’s really out. Not that there’s anything out here to burn. He feels foolish, mostly, and embarrassed, but gods- that had been nice, for a bit. Turns out Elick might have been right, after all, about something going on - but probably not enough to warrant his interest. Jedi philosophy has almost never annoyed Cody more, he’s fairly sure. Part of him wants to tell Obi-Wan that, just to get a reaction, but he doesn’t think Obi-Wan would find the thought as amusing as he does.

Sighing, Cody shakes himself a bit and gets up, picks up his helmet from beside his chair, and heads into the tent himself, half-ignoring Obi-Wan and taking his armor off a piece at a time to set neatly by his cot. He supposes this will blow over in the morning and things will be a bit more comfortable again, but something tells him Obi-Wan’s not going to be so relaxed for a while, especially not here. It’s a touch disappointing, that thought.

Cody goes to bed with a resolution not to go wishing after things he can’t have and somewhat failing, and he tries not to focus too much on the soft rise and fall of Obi-Wan’s breathing behind him.

~~~

The morning dawns clear and bright, and Obi-Wan wakes up early, as is his usual routine - normally, he’d get up and meditate for a while before beginning his day. But this morning, for a few minutes, he can’t quite make himself.

And it’s because he’s being entirely selfish.

The simple fact of the matter is that sometime during the night, Cody had rolled over to face him, and now that position gives Obi-Wan the perfect opportunity to watch his- to watch Cody sleep. To trace the lines of Cody’s face with his eyes, including that damn scar his fingers itch to touch. Having a face that- traceable should be criminal.

He has to admit, of course, that the effects are somewhat limited when he’s not having to deal with Cody’s eyes - another thing that should be illegal, honestly. How’s he supposed to remain unattached when Cody smiles at him like he does, and his face and eyes go warm and soft, and the Force sings?

It’s decidedly unfair.

He has been, he thinks, staring for too long, but there’s something fascinating about the play of light and shadows across the planes of Cody’s face, and it’s a far more pleasant pastime than thinking about the idiocy of last night. He’d been a fool to let his guard down, to think he could forget who and what he is, and because of that-

Well.

It was a mistake, that’s all. A mistake, because the banter was too easy, too relaxed and light, and there was something in the way Cody looked at him - in the way he said Obi - and it had made Obi-Wan want, for a minute. And that’s not something he can allow himself, the distraction of that want, and so- So he has to push it aside.

For a minute, though, it’d been nice, the laughter, the smile dancing across Cody’s face and glinting in his eyes, the warmth of it all.

Force take it.

He needs to meditate.

With a tired sigh, he rubs the sleep out of his eyes and sits up, silently mourning the loss of the blanket’s warmth, pulls his boots on and tucks his lightsaber on his belt and stands, stretching, before making his way out of the tent. The sun is just peeking over the edge of the horizon, turning everything awash in soft, rose-gold light, making their small campsite look like something taken straight from a fantasy holo.

It’s beautiful.

Obi-Wan lets himself appreciate the sight for a moment, then he sighs, settles himself cross-legged on the ground (misses, for a moment, the comforting weight and warmth of his cloak), folds his hands in his lap and closes his eyes and breathes, in and out. Reaches out into the Force surrounding him, lets all his emotions and the tangled thoughts and feelings about Cody fade away.

For a moment, there is nothing, and then:

Darkness.

The Darkness itself isn’t unexpected; it lies heavy and clouding over everything, a shroud he can’t see past, flickers of a future that may or may not come true glittering in its depths. Rows and rows of white armor; yellow-gold paint; a white-edged black blade with a Sith-gold eye gleaming from behind it, edged in red and black in a way he should know intimately, but can’t quite discern; a low, sonorous voice, tolling like a bell, four words he can’t make out over the sound of a starfighter engine and a gasping, mechanized cough; blue and grey Mandalorian armor falling from a balcony, in almost slow-motion, a red saber blade staining the armor red like blood.

A star on fire, burning itself to ashes in its own flame.

Two shadowy figures stand close together, one just a bit taller, leaning in towards the other; quiet words are exchanged, and then the taller of the two holds out a hand, and the shorter takes it, walking away from whatever is behind them without looking back.

And then there is silence.

Deep, echoing silence, like something huge and vast has suddenly been emptied, silence so thick he could drown in it, almost does, it’s choking him (fire and ashes and lava in his lungs) and he can’t breathe-

A familiar Force-signature, burning bright as a star, looms up before him, and without thinking Obi-Wan grabs onto just the very edges of it, lets the warmth and familiarity pull him out of the vision, and it’s only when he gasps in a ragged breath and hears several small pebbles and rocks fall to the ground around him that he realizes how deep into the Force he’d accidentally gone.

“That was… unsettling,” he muses, to himself, and rubs at his face, shivers just a bit.

The memory of silence won’t quite leave him be.

~~~

Cody finishes clasping on his right bracer and gives Obi-Wan, who’s sitting cross-legged on the ground, a slightly bemused once-over, then volunteers, “I hope it’s not my fault you dropped all those rocks.”

Obi-Wan startles a bit and glances back at him, then says, sounding distracted, “No, I wasn’t- That’s a side effect of being too deep into the Force, sometimes.” He looks concerned about something, and Cody walks over to him with a slight smile.

“Making things float?” he clarifies, a bit teasing.

Obi-Wan gets smoothly to his feet with a small smile and says, “Yes,” with a hint of amusement. “I was meditating - the Force just had things to show me, apparently.”

Cody’s somewhat curious what that means, but instead of asking about it he just pulls a ration bar out of his belt pouch to pass to Obi-Wan. “Anything interesting?”

Obi-Wan grimaces at the ration bar but takes it, and shrugs. “Too much. Things I should recognize but can’t - it’s all flashes of the future, but who knows if any of it will come true. The silence, though…” Obi-Wan, as he seems to do rather regularly, trails off into quiet and seems distracted by his own thoughts for a second before visibly refocusing himself.

Cody huffs an almost-laugh and says, “That sounds intense, Obi-Wan. Maybe we better get a move on.”

Obi-Wan sighs. “Of course, you’re right. Where are we heading?”

“Depends.” Cody gets his datapad out of his pack and turns it on to pull up an old map of Concordia that he’d retrieved from when the moon was actually a worksite. “We're here.” He taps their approximate location on the map and then points at the nearest potential targets. “These are places to start, although this map is old enough that they may be entirely gone now. I'd have us start at this factory - it's unlikely they'd risk setting up in the mines without examining them more thoroughly to be sure they were safe.”

“Sounds like a plan,” Obi-Wan says. “We should investigate at least one of the mines ourselves, though- The abandoned look could be a deliberate front.”

“For that matter, that could apply to any of these places,” Cody points out, wryly. “But yes, I expect we’ll have to look.” He reexamines the map, and taps what looks like the nearest factory. “We should start here, it’s the straightest shot from here and there are some promising areas close to it as well.”

“Lead the way,” Obi-Wan says, and Cody chuckles and draws his blaster pistols to look them over, briefly, shaking his head.

“I think technically this is your mission, Obi-Wan,” he points out dryly, smiling a bit.

“Fair enough,” Obi-Wan answers, chuckling. “Let’s get the bikes and head to that factory, then.”

They’ve brought a pair of slightly suspect swoop bikes - they should make scouting easier, but Cody hopes they actually work consistently. He puts his helmet on and mounts one of the two bikes, slinging his pack over his shoulders. When Obi-Wan’s on his own bike, Cody checks their map again and flicks his fingers in a let’s go gesture.

Concordia, like every other Mandalorian territory, shows the scars of a past sunken in war - they zip past crumpled, buried wrecks of ships and the occasional piece of armor or machinery. Concordia was never a fertile moon, but according to histories, it used to have some vegetation and a few small lakes. Now there’s none of that, just craters and canyons, barely distinct enough to navigate by. Cody keeps an eye out for signs of life, because they can’t afford to be spotted, but sees nothing. After a little over half an hour, he spots the factory up ahead of them and signals sharply at Obi-Wan to bank off into the mouth of a canyon and park the bikes so they can approach more cautiously on foot.

The tactic doesn’t prove to be necessary, this time - the factory is dead silent, and Obi-Wan says he doesn’t sense anyone inside. On further inspection, the place is long-abandoned, nearly every surface coated with a thin veneer of dust that swirls up into the air with every move they make. The machinery in the place is so rusty and corroded that Cody thinks most of it would have to be overhauled and replaced to be functional again, which is promising if the rest of the factories are in this condition. Since this place doesn’t appear to be a site of operations, Cody makes a note on his map and they stride back out to the canyon to retrieve their bikes.

Reviewing the map, he looks around to fix their location and points northwest from the factory. “I think there should be an entrance to a small mine, about two clicks that way,” he says, raising an eyebrow.

“Sounds promising,” Obi-Wan agrees, and Cody nods and mounts his swoop bike again. “Mines are somewhat less obvious than a factory.”

“And perhaps not as run-down, if this place was anything to go by,” Cody agrees, smiles a bit behind his helmet as Obi-Wan gets on his own bike and starts up the engine. Until Bo-Katan gets them more leads, this sort of thing will get them a groundwork of information to build on. At the very least, they can update their maps a little.

~~~

It doesn’t take too long to reach the mine Cody had indicated on his map; Obi-Wan spends the trip reaching out into the Force, searching for any sense of sentient life, and observing the scenery. If anyone knew they were here, this route would be a good place to set an ambush - but the Force is calm and still, with just a faintly-distant hint of danger.

Nothing immediate, then.

The entrance to the mine is well-hidden among brush and foliage - it’s in an area of the moon that’s had some forest grow back, and if Obi-Wan didn’t know better, he’d say the trees have almost been encouraged to grow the way they are. Even without the Force, it’s not too terribly difficult to train plants.

Of course, that would indicate that this abandoned mine is a lot less abandoned than it should be.

He and Cody pull the bikes to a stop and tuck them under some undergrowth, for camouflage - if this mine is being used for nefarious purposes (or even just for mining), it’s more likely someone will come along. And getting discovered on their first full day of scouting is hardly productive, nor will it convince Cody’s advisors that Obi-Wan can, in fact, handle these types of missions.

The sense of danger has been getting stronger as they’ve approached the mine, and as they walk up to the entrance now, Obi-Wan sighs and looks over at Cody. “I have a bad feeling about this,” he says, low, leans up against the rock and reaches out into the Force again. Still no Force-signatures.

“I don’t suppose that’s just a feeling that you need to let go of?” Cody answers, irritated.

Obi-Wan presses his lips together and shakes his head. “Unfortunately, no. The Force feels… there’s danger here, although what kind, I’m not certain. It’s not clear.” He steps up and taps the keypad so the door slides open.

It’s soundless, the machinery well-oiled and kept up.

“Excellent,” Cody says quietly, following Obi-Wan as he slips inside. “I hope it becomes clear before we’re both shot.”

“Well,” Obi-Wan retorts, under his breath, one hand resting on his lightsaber hilt, “I’m not sure how much clearer than blasterfire it can get.”

“Helpful, Kenobi,” Cody says, dry as a desert, and Obi-Wan rolls his eyes.

There’s an old rail track leading down the center of the tunnel, a half-rusted metal mining cart seated on it - Obi-Wan’s careful to avoid it, suspecting that accidentally jostling the cart would result in the kind of screech that would instantly alert anyone in the vicinity to their presence. He follows the track through the winding tunnel (which is low-ceilinged and claustrophobic, propped up at intervals by support struts) until it spits out into a larger area, criss-crossed with conveyor belts and unfamiliar machines, a tarp draped over a table, six oddly-shaped lumps beneath it.

Obi-Wan frowns, meets Cody’s eyes, and nods at the table.

Cody returns the nod, steps quietly around a pile of rock on the ground and approaches the table, pulling the tarp off in one smooth motion.

The lumps, it turns out, are helmets. Grey, mainly, with an unfamiliar symbol splashed across the front of all six helmets in bright white. Obi-Wan frowns, walks up to the table himself, traces a finger over the sigil. “What is this?” he asks, quietly, still keeping his voice down even though he has yet to sense anyone approach.

Cody makes a concerned noise in the back of his throat. “I’m not really sure,” he says, pulling out a datapad and a stylus and starting to sketch the symbol out. “It looks familiar, though, I’m going to have to look into it when we have time.”

Obi-Wan strokes his beard, thoughtfully, reaches out with one hand to trace over the painted outline. “I think I remember seeing something like this in one of the volumes I read,” he muses. “I can’t think of where, though.”

Danger, the Force hisses, and Obi-Wan’s already spinning with his saber out to deflect the blasterfire that sears out of the tunnel they’d entered through. Kriff.

Cody, he notes absently, as he focuses on seeking out their assailants, has the darksaber in one hand and a blaster pistol in the other, is deflecting shots, although more clumsily than Obi-Wan himself is - the Force certainly helps in that regard. Obi-Wan ducks behind a piece of machinery, glances around the main cavern for ideas.

He can sense six distinct Force-signatures on the opposite side of the room, moving closer, and although he can tell they’re speaking a form of Mando’a, he can’t pick out more than a few words of it - it must be the Concordian dialect Cody was telling him about. He knows they can’t let these warriors escape and warn Pre of their presence (and the moment they ignited sabers they revealed who they were), knows also that death from obvious saber wounds is a bad idea.

Well. They can worry about making this look convincing after they handle the soldiers trying to kill them.

So Obi-Wan flips up and over the top of the machine (it looks like some kind of mold), lands next to Cody, snaps his saber up to deflect blasterfire. There’s three Mandos coming towards him with blasters out - the other three are somewhere behind him, and he marks their relative positions, shifts to put a conveyor belt between him and them.

The next few moments are a blur of motion, deflecting blaster bolts and ducking under punches - one of the Mandos circling behind him lashes out with some kind of wire from a gauntlet, catching his saber arm and yanking the blade out of his hand.

Kriff.

Obi-Wan swears under his breath, twists his arm around to grab the wire with one hand and yanks the Mando off their feet, swinging them over towards Cody in a fluid motion (he has to duck under blasterfire as he does so) and reaching out with his free hand to call his saber back to him.

Out of the corner of his eye, he catches Cody dispatching the suddenly-helpless Mando with a swing of his saber; Obi-Wan ignites his own saber again, blocks a blaster bolt and cuts the cord around his wrist, returns his saber to his right hand and falls back into a fighting stance.

Six Mandalorians are- quite a lot, he finds, settling himself back-to-back with Cody and deflecting blaster bolts, twirling around to catch a vibroblade (cortosis-weave, he thinks, noting how it catches his blade instead of shearing in half) aimed for Cody’s side. He forces the vibroblade back, twists his wrist, exchanges two blows with the Mando before cutting through the vibroblade’s hilt and then dispatching his opponent with another strike. Behind him, Cody twists and jams the darksaber through the faceplate of another warrior’s helmet.

They can do this.

And that’s when two more Mandos in armor (all with that symbol on their helmets, and Obi-Wan would think it to be Clan Vizsla’s sigil if not for Cody’s confusion) burst around the corner and into the main cavern.

There’s another tunnel leading out from the area - there has to be another exit in that direction, somewhere. They can’t defeat all these warriors before they’re overwhelmed, and if any word at all gets to Pre their entire mission is lost. So-

Obi-Wan makes a split-second decision.

“Cody, duck,” he snaps.

Thankfully, Cody doesn’t question, just drops, and Obi-Wan throws his hands out and pushes.

All around them, the circle of Mandos is flung away, to the ground, only the two newest arrivals untouched. Good - it’ll buy them time, at the least.

“Cover me,” he says, returning his saber to his belt, already making for the controls to a piece of machinery.

“What’s your plan?” Cody asks, pulling a blaster again and smoothly firing it at one of the recovering warriors, shooting a blaster out of their hand.

Obi-Wan smirks, just a bit. “On my mark, make for that tunnel,” and he nods in its direction, focuses on the controls. If he can just overload the mechanism…

“How long is this going to take?” Cody sounds strained, and Obi-Wan grits his teeth, types faster.

“Almost got it,” he says, and then: “There! Cody, go.”

He jumps down from the control panel, ignites his lightsaber again, deflects blaster bolts and backs towards the tunnel. Cody’s there on his other side, he notes, but too far in front of him- “Get behind me,” he says, leaves no room for argument in his tone.

The machinery roars to life and for the first time the Mandos hesitate.

Obi-Wan barely has time to return his saber to his belt before the mechanism overloads and explodes in a bright orange gout of flame.

He closes his eyes, and breathes.

There’s a snarl of sound around him, and he thinks he hears Cody’s voice shouting something - ah, probably because he’s still too close to the blast - he flings one hand out behind him, grabs onto the Force and pushes Cody back into the tunnel, opens his eyes and grits his teeth and with all his strength, reaches forward and commands the Force to hold.

The explosion curls back on itself, the flames licking so close to his face he can feel their heat, the rock ceiling groaning and cracking above his head. He lifts one hand up, splits his attention, can’t focus on anything beyond careful, slow steps backwards, only the sheer strength of his will holding fire and ash and twisted shrapnel at bay, keeping the roof from falling down around his head and trapping him, or, more likely, killing him.

His heel lands on a rock, his balance twists, and for the briefest second his concentration slips. The Force falters, and the stone roof comes tumbling down-

No.

Obi-Wan shoves his hand out again, fingers trembling with the effort of it all, catches the falling stone just above his head, and with all the strength left in him he backs into the safety of the tunnel and lets go.

There’s a rumbling crash and the tunnel’s sealed off by the collapse; Obi-Wan can’t quite get the energy to focus on that, yet, sags against the wall and closes his eyes and sucks in a ragged breath.

He’s shaking.

Chapter Text

Cody can't help throwing up an arm as the entrance to the tunnel they're in is obscured by a thunder of falling rock and clouds of smoke and dust, one that shakes everything around them. Obi-Wan is leaning against the wall looking no more put out than a person who's just had a difficult sparring session, eyes closed and chest heaving, which is ridiculous given he just kept what must have been tons of rock from crushing him by pure force of will.

Holy fekking shit.

“What the hells?” Cody ends up saying, incredulously, although he supposes there are better things he could be saying, like thank you for not getting us killed or mind if I kiss you now? He dusts his armor off a bit and clips his saber back to his belt automatically, then removes his helmet to cough.

“Sorry I didn’t warn you,” Obi-Wan says, snorting a bit, clearly worn out. He opens his eyes, smirks a bit, and adds, “I did say it’s more than fancy telekinesis and mind tricks.”

Cody laughs, a bit breathless and shocked despite himself, and shakes his head, leaning against the wall on his shoulder. “I mean technically, Obi, that was fancy telekinesis. Really, really overdramatic telekinesis. Shit.” He laughs a bit more.

Obi-Wan laughs too. “Technically, holding back an explosion isn’t telekinesis. Keeping the roof from collapsing was, though.” He huffs a bit, rubbing his jaw. “I would’ve tried to rearrange the debris so we could get out, but it took rather more energy just to do those first two things than I expected.”

“Show-off,” Cody snorts, then looks around. It’s dark, here in the tunnel, but enough orange emergency lights are flickering along the walls to illuminate the shape of the tunnel and their own position. There’s clearly no getting back out of the mine through the collapsed factory, but who knows where the tunnels lead - it wouldn’t make sense for them to only have one way in and out, though. He looks back at Obi-Wan, and his riduur has held his hand out towards the rocks blocking their way out again - before Cody can scold him about what a terrible idea that is, Obi winces and lets his hand fall and briefly massages his temple. “For kriff’s sake, Obi-Wan,” Cody snorts, raising an eyebrow. “We’ll just find a different way out. Di’kut.” That comes out fonder than he means it to.

“I figured I’d at least try,” Obi-Wan says, lightly, and then sighs. “Alas, no more really, really overdramatic telekinesis today.”

“For shame,” Cody chuckles, and Obi pushes himself off the wall with another sigh, wincing slightly. “Can you use the Force to help us get out of here?”

“I can try to sense the surface,” Obi says, doubtfully, “but no promises.”

“Good enough for me.” Cody shrugs. He’s not too concerned about their chances (yet); if they have to search manually for their way out, he thinks they can manage it well enough.

Obi-Wan ignites his blue saber, washing the walls with a blue glow, and nods. “We should start walking, then.”

The air in the tunnels is stale as they start walking, and Cody drops a hand to rest on his blaster automatically, because despite the emergency lights and Obi-Wan’s saber, there are too many shadows that twist unnaturally. He keeps his left hand on the stone wall of the tunnels, so that if there’s an opening he’ll feel it. When he looks at Obi-Wan, he still looks tired, but they can’t really take the time to rest, not until they know they have a way out. The ground is sloping up, slightly - if this is the main passageway of the mine, any branches off this tunnel will be worksites, and this should be the path out.

“Considering your reaction, I assume this is the first time you’ve seen a Jedi manipulate large objects with the Force?” Obi-Wan asks, his voice seeming too loud in the close space.

Cody snorts. “What about it?”

“You were just- quite surprised,” Obi-Wan says, sounding amused. “I suppose I forget how it looks to someone unfamiliar with us.” He sounds thoughtful, but Cody just laughs and jostles his shoulder a little.

“Come on, you don’t have to be modest, Obi-Wan. You’ve gotta know how badass that looked.”

Obi-Wan laughs, shaking his head, the little shit. “To be honest, it wasn’t as impressive as you think-” what a pile of banthashit, “-certainly it’s not something a young padawan could do, but I made a nearly-fatal mistake by allowing my concentration to slip.”

Cody smiles, feels the wall under his fingers drop away, and hesitates - but there’s no draft from that direction, so likely the turn-off only leads deeper into the earth. “Keep trying to be modest. It’s cute even if it’s ridiculous.” Gods, Jedi are stupid, sometimes. A Mando would be bragging about that move for months, and Obi-Wan’s just being self-deprecating. What a dumbass. He sighs and waves a hand a bit, more to himself than anything. “Good thinking, with the explosion. Saved our asses - as far as I could tell they didn’t send out any comms.”

Obi-Wan splutters a bit, likely at Cody’s off-handed compliment, and then shakes his head and says, “What can I say, Anakin and I have found over the years that explosions cover a multitude of sins.” He grins, and Cody laughs and shakes his head.

“That sounds about right. Anakin reminds me of some of my friends, like that.” Always crashing into, blowing up, or tripping over something, and then trying to act like it happened on purpose.

Obi-Wan smiles. “Anakin certainly does fit in here.”

Cody wonders if Obi-Wan thinks that’s a good thing or not. He decides not to ask. “Maybe if he gets lucky, the clan will adopt him, too.” He thinks that would be great, adopting two Jedi into clan Fett, just to rock the boat more.

“Just what I need,” Obi-Wan says, wryly. “Him getting even more- well,” he laughs a bit. “Dramatic.”

Cody glances at him, mouth twisting a bit, and breathes out a short laugh. “I’ll do my best to prevent it, in that case,” he says, dryly. Imagine a Jedi with too many Mando tendencies, the whole Order might collapse and the clans would riot.

Not that it matters, he doesn’t know why he cares so much.

~~~

Obi-Wan chuckles to himself, shifts his saber to one side to let the light better sweep over one wall. “I appreciate the sentiment,” he says, “but I’m afraid it’s a lost cause. I’m afraid he’s become quite attached to your culture.”

“Ah, every Jedi’s worst nightmare,” Cody says, deadpan, but his lips are pressed flat together and there’s something not-quite-sharp in his eyes.

Obi-Wan grimaces a bit, sighs. “I meant no disrespect,” he says, quietly. “There is nothing wrong with Mandalorian culture - it’s joyous and beautiful, in many ways, although you all have trouble staying out of fights - it’s just so opposite of Jedi practices and beliefs. And although there are certain parts of our Code that should be re-evaluated, the majority of the Code is in place for a reason.”

Cody sighs, face shuttering. “Right, of course, I understand.”

Obi-Wan knows he doesn’t. Knows also that the easy, relaxed banter they’d been sharing before is all but gone.

Maybe it’s better this way, he thinks - but he can’t really make himself believe it. There’s something- Well. He can’t exactly deny that Cody’s smiles warm his heart, make him feel lighter, almost; that the brightness in Cody’s eyes relaxes him; that Cody’s wry wit and genuine laugh are already things that he no longer knows how to move through his daily life without. (The Force hums a bit, at that, like take note, and Obi-Wan doesn’t know what that’s supposed to mean but he files it away for later consideration anyway.)

In lieu of responding, Obi-Wan just reaches out into the Force, although it sends a twinge of pain through his temples - he’ll have to be careful the rest of the day, until he can sleep off the overuse before it turns into total burnout. If he concentrates, he can almost feel the layout of the tunnels, stretching out away from him, like he’s a spider and this is his web. “This tunnel should lead us straight to the surface,” he says, quiet, after a moment, “if what I’m sensing is correct.” He’s silent for another handful of heartbeats, finally adds, “And I’m not sensing any other Force-signatures beyond our own.”

They’re safe, that means - if any of Vizsla’s soldiers had managed to get out a transmission, this mine would be swarming by now. Good - that means the headache pulsing at the edges of his thoughts is worth it.

“Okay,” Cody says, still shuttered. “I hoped that was the case.”

Obi-Wan opens his eyes, absently hovers his saber in midair to avoid its light going out, and fumbles at his belt pouch until he secures the small bottle of painkillers, shakes a couple pills out into his palm and swallows them down with his canteen. He can’t afford to be distracted by this headache, and he doesn’t need to feel the pain to know he’s treading on thin ice.

“You alright?” Cody asks, sounds concerned, and Obi-Wan smiles at him as he reaches out to take his saber again and start off down the tunnel.

“It’s nothing,” he says, negligently, waving his free hand. “Too much use of the Force tends to leave one with a headache.”

“The negative side effects of being badass,” Cody says with a wry grin, and Obi-Wan rolls his eyes.

“You use the term badass very loosely,” he says, shifting his saber to better light their path.

Cody looks and feels warmly amused, and Obi-Wan scolds himself for the way he wants more of that feeling, in the Force, of that smile. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Exactly what it sounds like,” he says. “All that business with the explosion took was a great deal of concentration and some raw Force power - Anakin’s actually a fair bit better at that sort of thing than I am, when he clears his mind. He has much more raw power.”

Cody chuckles (still so warm) and shakes his head. “So strength counts for little without skill, in your opinion?”

“To a great extent, yes,” Obi-Wan says. “Give the strongest sentient in the galaxy a lightsaber they do not know how to use, and Master Yoda could defeat them. Of course, there are times that skill alone can’t make up for a lack of strength - for instance, we all have our limits of how much we can use the Force to lift. Anakin’s is closer to a cruiser; I’ve never seen him find something he can’t lift, with enough focus.” He quirks his lips, adds, “Of course, his ability to focus is, ah, no match for his strength.”

“Ah, there’s the rub,” Cody says.

Obi-Wan snorts, opens his mouth to respond, and then they walk around a corner and nearly smack into a tumbled pile of rocks nearly reaching the tunnel’s uneven ceiling. “Kriff,” he mutters, emphatically.

The rocks are of varying sizes, many of them small enough to be moved by hand, but quite a few large enough he thinks he and Cody together would be hard-pressed to lift them; and in any case, manual labor will take too long. They need to be away from this site before someone comes to investigate what the hells happened here. So:

So he sighs, and unceremoniously holds his lightsaber out to Cody. “Here,” he says, “take it - I’ll need both hands.”

“Are you about to use fancy telekinesis again?” Cody asks, arching an eyebrow.

Obi-Wan chuckles, says, “Yes, in fact, how very astute of you.”

And then he closes his eyes, reaches both hands out towards the rockfall, and falls into the Force.

It hurts, a bit, he notes distantly - perhaps he’s slightly overdoing it (or more than slightly, really, if he’s honest - holding back that explosion and the roof of the cavern had already been pushing him to his limit). But the top layers of the rockfall lift up into the air, he can see them in his mind’s eye, in his awareness of the Force, and he guides them carefully away to line the walls and tumble down a convenient, nearby tunnel that only leads deeper into the earth. Moves to the next layer, and then the next, until all that’s left is a scattering of stones they can easily climb over and around.

And then he opens his eyes.

The world spins through his field of vision and he stumbles to one side, catches himself on- on metal beneath his palms, someone’s arm - Cody, right. He rubs at his eyes, breathes deeply, tries to steady himself, has to grit his teeth against the sudden pain in his head. Damn it, but at least it’s mangeable, and as long as he’s careful he should be able to pass it off as momentary fatigue, nothing more. Attempting to shift himself upright brings the pain back twofold, though, and he forces himself to breathe through it, open his eyes and hold his balance until everything stops whirling dizzily around, and then he carefully lets go of Cody’s arm.

“I’ll take my lightsaber back, now,” he says.

~~~

Concerned, Cody switches off Obi-Wan’s lightsaber and passes it back to him, then takes his helmet out from under his arm and fits it on, activating the night vision although it’s still not pitch-black. “Put that saber away,” he says, the worry tinging his voice although he doesn’t mean for it to. “What was that, are you okay?” He reaches out to fit an arm around Obi’s back, to offer him support.

Obi-Wan shrugs him off, slightly, although Cody is stubborn and used to stubborn people so he just adjusts with the movement. “It’s nothing, just momentary fatigue,” Obi says, and if Cody didn’t know better he’d consider the lie an affront to his intelligence. Gods, Obi can’t seriously think he’s convincing anyone, right? Apparently he does, though, because instead of clipping his saber back to his belt, Obi-Wan ignites it again, the light a beam of white in Cody’s night vision.

“For kriff’s sake, Kenobi, turn that off,” Cody huffs. “I can see fine enough, and I’m perfectly capable of walking in a straight line to get us out of here. ‘Momentary fatigue’ my ass.”

Obi-Wan gives him a dry, frustrated look, which doesn’t have the full effect when it’s turned monochromatic by night vision. Turning his saber off, he complains, “I’m perfectly capable of walking on my own.”

Cody smiles. “You just nearly fell over, Obi-Wan, I think you should just stop complaining and go with it. Don’t worry, I’ll let you drive your own bike back to camp.”

Obi-Wan doesn’t look any less offended, which is a shame. “I did nothing as undignified as that, I just lost my balance for a moment,” he protests - to his credit, he sounds properly put-out. It’s almost convincing. Adorable.

“Why did you lose your balance?” he asks, chuckling just a little. “I think we have to take that into account.”

Obi-Wan presses his lips tight together and looks straight ahead of them. “Overuse of the Force, nothing serious.”

“Nothing serious, is it? I don’t know if I buy that.” Cody considers for a moment, then nods to himself and says, “Headache?”

“It’ll pass,” Obi-Wan says, gritting his teeth, after a moment of hesitation.

“I’m sure. Once we get back to the camp and you’ve had some water and a rest. Good thinking.” Cody lightly pats Obi’s back, approvingly.

“Honestly, Cody, I’m not an invalid,” Obi-Wan snaps. “Force burn is only serious if you ignore it.”

Cody chuckles, then curses as he stubs his toe on a step up in the rock. “I wanna be out of here. And I certainly don’t think you’re an invalid, but given that you’re trying your damnedest to, what was it, ignore the ‘Force burn,’ I’m just trying to look out for you.” His kriffing riduur is an idiot. Lucky thing Cody likes him.

“I am not ignoring anything,” Obi-Wan says. “Do you see me using the Force at the moment? No, because migraines and unconsciousness are both rather undesirable at this moment.”

Cody chuckles. There’s a bit of a draft, now - not much, but enough to know they’re getting closer to the surface. “And yet you still tried to tell me you were fine. Look, Obi, I don’t wanna baby you. I’d just rather not have you ‘losing your balance’ in a dark tunnel with a headache. Don’t be so stubborn.”

Obi-Wan gives him an aggravated look, brows furrowing. “I don’t think you’re the best one to talk about not being stubborn, Cody.”

Cody hums a bit. “It’s a flaw I have, I know.” Sort of a flaw, anyway. “But I’m talking about your stubbornness at the moment, Kenobi, that’s what’s causing us problems right now.”

“I don’t see how this is problematic,” Obi-Wan says, which is frankly ridiculous. “Unless we run into another rockfall, I have no reason to use the Force.”

Cody just laughs at that, and for a while they continue to argue back and forth as they walk - Cody keeps a hold on Obi-Wan, whether Obi-Wan wants him to or not. In the green-grey of his world, the mine doesn’t quite look real, support posts and collapsed earth turned fuzzy and indistinct, off-branching tunnels just gaping mouths - it takes some effort not to focus too much on those pathways, because anything could be hiding down those tunnels. But just because they could be doesn’t mean they are; Cody makes himself focus instead on the path ahead of them and on Obi-Wan.

Eventually, Cody switches off his night vision and finds he can see well enough still without it, and in another moment the tunnel takes a turn up and to the right, and he can see the opening to the surface. He grins and nudges Obi-Wan a little. “Guess we made it, Kenobi.”

“Now the trick is finding our bikes again,” Obi-Wan says, dryly, and Cody shrugs.

“I’ll take a look at the map and try to scan for them - we should be able to figure out the way back, but I don’t imagine it’ll be a short walk.” Which is a gods-damned shame, Cody would rather get his stupid riduur sitting down and resting sooner, but all things considered, today has gone well.

When they get outside, Cody powers on his datapad and searches the map until he thinks he’s found where they are - not as far from where they left the bikes as he’d feared, but farther still than he’d prefer. He shows their trajectory to Obi-Wan, and they set about walking again - Cody lets him walk on his own.

He wishes he was surprised that Pre appears to be preparing for a fight - manufacturing armor with his own symbol, an unfamiliar one, and more likely than not, weapons too. Collapsing one mine should slow down production for the time being, as Cody doesn’t expect Pre has much of an operation set up yet, but they’ll have to find other likely areas of production. Maybe, if they’re careful, they can sabotage some of the locations in advance, although there’s always a risk that Pre will catch on to their meddling and call it an attack, or else blame it on Bo-Katan and ruin her mission.

Still, this is a start. Something to work with.

~~~

By the time they make it back to their camp, Obi-Wan is forced to admit - to himself, at least - that his headache has escalated into something he’s very hard-pressed to ignore. Yes, he’s aware he needs to rest, thank you, but he doesn’t need to right now. Or shouldn’t, at least - the pounding in his head is trying to tell him otherwise.

He grits his teeth and forces it down, parks the bike and quickly checks it over for tracking devices - he doesn’t find anything, which means the warriors didn’t find their bikes. Good. They won’t have to relocate their camp, which will save them some headache.

Obi-Wan refills his canteen from their water tank, swallows a couple more pain pills, hoping to dull the edges of his own personal headache, wanders over to his camp chair and sits down, absently running his fingers over his saber hilt. “What’s the next part of our plan, then?” he asks. “Do we want to check a few more of those mines and factories, to see what else Pre might be building?”

“I think we’d better,” Cody says, tiredly. “You said you might have an idea about that symbol?”

Obi-Wan nods, gets up to dig through his bag for his datapad. “I saved some of the more interesting bits I read to my datapad,” he says, pulling it out and returning to his chair. “Can I see that image of the symbol?”

Cody pulls his own datapad out, opens it to the picture and hands it over, and Obi-Wan frowns to himself, sifts through his notes absently. It takes a few minutes - he’s saved quite a few passages, most of them for his pet project with the Galidraan history - but after searching through his folders, he comes across one labelled Mandalorian Civil War and decides that looks promising.

Sure enough, after scrolling for a moment, he finds what he’s looking for.

“The text I have copied down here says this symbol was used by a radical group called Death Watch - it apparently originated during the last civil war and was led by-” He stops. “Ah. Tor Vizsla, Pre’s father.”

“Oh, I remember them,” Cody says, and something in his tone makes Obi-Wan look up from his reading. He hesitates, then adds, “If Pre is looking to continue their legacy, we have more to worry about than I thought.”

Obi-Wan nods, handing Cody his datapad back. “From what I remember reading, Death Watch seems to have been one of the main factions of the last civil war, correct?”

Cody nods. “Yes, they were. You know, I assume, that they were largely responsible for the massacre at Galidraan.”

Obi-Wan sighs. “I knew it was Tor who contacted the Jedi strike team - that information, we have in our Archives. From the reading I’ve been able to do in your histories, I’d put the rest of the pieces together.” He rubs at his temples as his headache pulses stronger again, knows he sounds a bit more strained than usual when he asks, “Do you think, with this new information, that Pre does in fact want to start another civil war?”

“Hells, it seems like it,” Cody says, and Obi-Wan grimaces. Wonderful. “He’s always felt I should be… more militant, and I’ve never liked his politics. My buir always said Tor was the worst sort of Mandalorian, too nationalistic by half, twisting our codes of honor to suit himself.”

Obi-Wan runs his hand over his beard, thoughtful. “Excellent,” he sighs. “I suppose the only consolation in all this is none of the other clans have joined his cause.”

“So far. I don’t want to get us into another war,” Cody says, tiredly, sighing.

Obi-Wan leans forward, puts a hand on Cody’s shoulder. “We have the advantage, Cody,” he says, softer than he entirely means. “We know his motives - or some of them - and that means we can prepare. With this knowledge and Bo-Katan in place, we should be able to stop anything he comes up with.”

“I appreciate the optimism,” and Cody smiles, and Obi-Wan tries not to soak in the warmth of that smile. “I certainly hope you’re right.”

“I’m always right,” Obi-Wan says, leaning back with a wink and a smile, satisfied.

Cody chuckles. “Hardly.”

“Now, now, Cody,” Obi says, “you should know, we Jedi are absolute fountains of knowledge and wisdom and should clearly never be doubted.”

“You’re a fountain,” Cody says, deadpan, although his eyes are dancing and he’s stifling a laugh.

Obi-Wan can’t help his own laugh, although he pinches the bridge of his nose in mock-exasperation and sighs, a bit too dramatically. “Have you never heard of metaphor, my dear?”

Wait.

He shifts a bit, looks away from Cody and down at his datapad, hoping maybe to cover the- the slip-up, or whatever that was. Hopefully Cody will just- ignore it, and they can move on and not discuss that.

“No,” Cody says, wryly, “my tutors must’ve forgotten to explain that to me.” There’s a pause, and Obi-Wan relaxes a bit, looks up to catch the small smile on Cody’s face, and then Cody’s smile turns a bit more devious and he adds, “My dear.”

Damn it.

Obi-Wan looks away, quickly, knows he’s blushing - his whole face is hot and he’s sure Cody’s very amused and pleased with himself, the little shit - is fairly sure he’s not actually managing to hide anything, but he’s certainly going to try. “I need,” he pronounces, pushing himself to his feet, “to sleep off this headache.”

Before Cody can say anything, he turns on his heel and marches into their tent, and does his best to ignore Cody laughing in the background.

Asshole.

~~~

Cody’s quite sure that Obi would never have intentionally called him “dear,” and equally sure that Obi-Wan won’t call him that again, so perhaps calling attention to the slip was uncharitable of him. Given Obi-Wan’s reaction, however, Cody doesn’t really regret his decision - he’s never seen the Jedi so red-faced and embarrassed, and it tempts Cody to keep using the term of endearment. It would make for good entertainment, at least.

Cody stays out by the fire for a little while before joining Obi in their tent - he scrolls through what articles he can find on the Death Watch on his datapad, growing more and more uneasy. He doesn’t want to bring his people into another period of conflict - maybe it was a bad idea, to go through with this alliance and alienate Pre. Hells, if he’d thought it would cause a problem like this, maybe he wouldn’t have. Then again, Pre’s never really been completely behind him, and more likely than not something else would have pushed him over the edge eventually. This just gives him something of an ideological advantage, from the point of view of a lot of their people.

It’s too late to worry about what he should have done - Cody’s just going to have to make things work.

They spend another week on Concordia until Cody hears from his advisors that Bo-Katan seems to have successfully made contact with Pre Vizsla - they’ve personally found a few other operations in the area, thankfully without being caught since the first somewhat disastrous discovery. Despite occasional moments of friction, Cody can’t believe how comfortable things are, with Obi - if he’s lucky, they could have this kind of partnership for a long time, and he thinks it’ll be as close as it can get to perfect. (Never mind a couple ways he thinks he could make it better.)

They pack up their camp early in the morning on the day they’re set to leave, so that when their pick-up arrives the ship doesn’t have to be here for any longer than necessary. Cody scatters the still-warm ashes of their campfire from the night before and digs out a ration bar for breakfast (yay). Sitting himself down on a crate containing their tent and folded cots, he takes a bite of the ration bar and raises an eyebrow at Obi-Wan. “I think this went alright, jetii,” he says, cheerfully. “Congratulations on a successful first mission as Duke.”

Obi-Wan snorts a bit, giving a disappointed look to his own ration bar, and says, “Why thank you, Cody.”

“Of course, Obi-Wan,” Cody says, with mock-formality. “I think we’ve earned ourselves a bit of a toast, when we get back.” His advisors will be pleased, he thinks. And maybe this will help them really accept Obi-Wan.

“It’s been far too long since I had the chance to sit and have a drink with pleasant company, so I’ll take you up on that offer.” Obi grins, takes a bite of his ration bar, and stops grinning. It makes Cody chuckle a little. He can hear transport engines, he thinks, so their ride should be here soon.

“Frankly, Obi, I’m glad we did this,” Cody says, which sounds odd given it’s a mission, but he figures if he can trust Obi in a fight, they should be alright for everything else, too. “You’re good to have around.”

“Oh, am I?” Obi-Wan raises an eyebrow, looking amused, and Cody huffs and glances up in time to see their ship making a banking turn overhead.

“Yeah, for a Jedi, you know.”

“Oh, of course,” Obi answers, smirking a little, eyes bright. “for a Jedi.”

Cody winks and leans back where he’s sitting, watches their transport ship ease down to a smooth landing across the crater from them. “I’ll hold you to that drink, Kenobi,” he teases, getting to his feet and lifting the crate he’d been sitting on in one arm. “Once we report in.”

“Excellent.” Obi starts helping him load everything up. “Anakin’s not invited.”

“Oh, definitely not.” Cody can’t help a small, self-satisfied smile as they move everything onto the ship to leave, and he keeps half an eye on Obi-Wan, oddly pleased, for a reason that he can’t name, with the result of the mission.

~~~

After they return to Mandalore, Obi-Wan senses an almost imperceptible shift in Cody’s advisors’ attitudes towards him - with some of them, it’s nearly obvious (Riska, mainly). He thinks it’s approval, and something else, something more intangible that he can’t quite place. Whatever it is, it makes the meetings go much smoother, and that’s something he hadn’t realized how much he’d appreciate until it happened.

After Cody and Obi-Wan report their findings on Concordia, Riska stops Obi-Wan on his way out of the room to hand him a small vibroknife, of good make, the kind designed to be hidden under a gauntlet.

“I don’t wear armor,” he says, amused, although he doesn’t refuse the gift, just lightly tests the edge of the blade. (As expected, it’s sharp.)

“Oh, you will,” she says with a grin. “Trust me.”

“Most Jedi don’t wear armor, it interferes with movement,” he explains, and she rolls her eyes, gestures dismissively with one hand.

“Well, you’re Mando now, and we wouldn’t be caught dead without our beskar’gam.” She leans forward a bit, eyes sparkling, adds, “I can recommend you a good armorer if you want to get a set made.”

“I’ll be sure to keep that in mind,” he says wryly, rolling his eyes. “I don’t suppose you have a sheath for this?”

“Oh, yeah.” Riska pulls it out and hands it over with a flourish, says, “Hey, tell Cody I said he needs to work on your armor situation.”

Before Obi-Wan can ask her why she can’t ask Cody herself, she tugs her helmet onto her head and walks away.

Interesting.

He sheaths the knife and tucks it in his pocket, heads for the library, where he’s fairly sure Cody’s gone to meet Rex and Boba for lunch; neither of the brothers are there today, however, and Obi-Wan smiles to himself. He suspects Boba’s with Anakin again - the amount those two hang around each other is a bit concerning, especially considering how they bonded after the wedding - and he’s hardly going to complain. Lunch with just Cody is an oddly peaceful event.

“Hey, Cody,” Obi-Wan says, sitting down across from him at their usual table. “Riska said something about telling you she said you need to work on my… armor situation? I have no idea why she’s so invested in it.”

Cody hesitates a moment, then says, “Probably because you’re criminally underprotected when you go into battle, Obi-Wan.”

Obi-Wan snorts, reaches over to put a roll and a couple slices of meat onto his plate. “It’s hardly an issue when you’re good enough to keep blasterfire from reaching you, and anyone foolish enough to attack a Jedi with a bladed weapon should expect to lose.” Although some Mandalorians are likely close to skilled enough to overcome their lack of the Force - such as Jango, or possibly the weapons’ trainer, Jak, although Obi-Wan hasn’t seen him fight. “Besides, armor hinders movement.”

“Not enough to be worth the trade-off,” Cody says, shaking his head, and Obi-Wan rolls his eyes.

“You’ve hardly seen any of the more… acrobatic things we are capable of - not only does armor bend differently around the joints, it adds weight, which can throw off the amount of Force needed for some of the Ataru aerials, or Force jumps, for example.” He takes a bite of his lunch, hums with pleasure - it’s good, today, he’ll have to thank the cooks.

Cody laughs. “Since my armor can block a lightsaber, I’ll let you keep your fancy jumps, Obi-Wan.”

Quick as a striking snake, Obi-Wan whips out his saber hilt, leans over the table, and taps the unlit end against one of the gaps in Cody’s armor, where he’s only protected by his bodyglove. “Even here?” he asks, raising an eyebrow, lips twitching with the smirk he’s trying to hold back, and he presses the hilt of his saber a little harder into the muscle of Cody’s chest.

The flat, unamused look on Cody’s face is nearly enough to break the self-control keeping Obi-Wan from laughing. “It’s hardly an issue when you’re good enough to keep blasterfire from reaching you,” he mimics, reaching up with two fingers to push Obi-Wan’s saber hilt away, “and that’s hardly what I’d call an easy target to begin with.”

“Point taken,” Obi-Wan says, leaning back in his chair and putting his saber hilt away, oddly pleased by the whole interaction. “In any case, even Mandalorian beskar’gam-” and he leans forward just enough to absently flick Cody’s chestplate “-is more armor than I’d prefer to wear. Although I have considered bracers.”

Cody swallows the bite he’s currently chewing, rolls his eyes and says, low and warm (and oh dear, that’s a bit of a dangerous tone), “You’re a cocky son of a bitch, aren’t you?”

“Hey now,” Obi-Wan says, “don’t insult my mother that way. Although I must admit I have no memory of her, so I suppose she could be a bitch-” He stops, rubs at his beard, adds, ruefully, “-and I suppose that could apply to my Master just as well, and while I loved him dearly he certainly had his moments.”

“Oh my gods, Obi,” Cody says, with a snort, shaking his head.

Obi-Wan smiles to himself, bites off a piece of his roll and swallows it down before saying, “If I am being cocky, I picked it up from Anakin,” with a light smile. He dismisses the topic with a wave of his hand, says, “In any case, in a slightly more serious vein - I received a comm from one of the government officials on Stewjon this morning. The Festival of Lights is in two Standard weeks and we’re both invited to the main celebration.”

Cody leans forward a bit, forearms resting on the table, eyes flickering with interest. “What’s the Festival of Lights?”

Obi-Wan grins. “It’s one of Stewjon’s holidays, dedicated to remembrance of those we’ve lost. Families craft paper lanterns and attach handmade wooden medallions, carved with meaningful imagery, to them, and at midnight they’re all released - before then there’s food and drinking and dancing, and sometimes people sell the jewelry they’ve made. And flowers, too, you can’t forget those - the children make flower crowns and hand them out. It’s tradition.” He smiles a bit softer, says, “I try my best to attend every year - I usually release a lantern for Qui-Gon.”

He would, of course, understand if Cody doesn’t want to go- but he hopes otherwise. After all, he hasn’t been with someone since Anakin turned fourteen and declared it all boring with all the insistence of a new teenager who has far better things to do than be interested in their Master’s hobbies; while that phase of teenage rebellion has more than likely passed, Obi-Wan hasn’t asked Anakin to come with him again. But perhaps this year… maybe Cody will join him.

~~~

Cody, admittedly, knows very little about Stewjon’s culture and traditions, but this festival sounds amazing, really. He smiles a bit and says, “Well, I suppose it’s my responsibility to go, isn’t it?” This is, after all, meant to be an equal alliance, even if the balance of power is largely on Mandalore’s side. Hells, going to an annual festival sounds like a much better outing than a mission to enemy territory.

Obi-Wan seems a bit less cheerful, now, and says, “You don’t have to if you don’t want to - it’s an invitation you are allowed to refuse. I myself will be going either way, though.”

Cody chuckles warmly, shakes his head. “Of course I’m going, Obi-Wan. From a political point of view, it’s just polite, and from my own point of view, it sounds fantastic. I’ll just have to make sure everyone else can manage without me, which I suspect they can.”

Obi-Wan grins, bright. “Oh, excellent. They did invite us to bring a couple of the advisors as well - I’ll let you pick who you’d like to bring.” Cody chuckles a bit and inclines his head in acknowledgement. Obi’s eyes suddenly get even brighter, and he adds, “I can show you how to make one of the lanterns, if you’re interested.”

“You’re serious?” Cody asks, smiling slowly and going back to his lunch. “That sounds really cool, Obi-Wan.”

“Of course I’m serious,” Obi-Wan says cheerfully.

“Well then, I think that would be nice.” Cody nods, half to himself, and winks. “We have two weeks, Kenobi, let’s see if I can manage a paper lantern.”

“Excellent - if you’re free after lunch we could start then,” Obi suggests, with a laugh.

“Perfect.”

So they do. Obi-Wan hauls Cody around the palace to get the supplies they apparently need to make a lantern and several medallions, and then they go out to the gardens, where there’s a neat little gazebo with benches and a table. They pile their supplies on the table, and Obi-Wan scrapes over a bench and sits down to show him what to do. The lantern being assembled is really mostly Obi-Wan’s handiwork, Cody’s got no idea where to begin with the paper and its frame (paper’s used for hardly anything anymore, and Cody’s not good at crafts), but when it comes time to carve his medallions, four of them, Obi-Wan pushes the tools to him and explains some of the things people usually carve on theirs. Cody curls his fingers around the bits of wood (they’re just scraps, from the cellar, probably not as neatly shaped as they ought to be) and the carving knife and considers for a moment.

“I think I’ll just do letters,” he says. “For their names.” He’s not great at drawing, anyway, and he remembers through the names anyway.

“That sounds good,” Obi tells him, soft, and Cody grins and starts painstakingly scratching Mando’a letters into the wood.

“I think I’ll bring Elick and Riska to the Festival,” he says, thoughtfully, a bit absently because he’s trying to focus. “They’d kill me if I went to a good party and didn’t bring them.”

Obi-Wan sounds amused when he answers. “Oh, this should be interesting.”

“Oh, so interesting,” Cody agrees, smiling to himself, brushing some little shavings away with his thumb. “That’s why I’m bringing them. They’re idiots but I like having them around.”

“I understand perfectly,” Obi chuckles, and Cody rolls his eyes and glances at him in time to catch a mischievous grin. He looks back at his project and shrugs.

“Really, though, Obi-Wan, I can’t wait.”

Obi’s voice pitches a bit soft, like he’s admitting something. “To be honest? Neither can I - this has always been my favorite day of the year.”

Cody makes a thoughtful noise. “Good. I’m sure it’ll be amazing.” He runs his thumb over the starts of his mother’s initial, and grins.

Chapter Text

The day that Obi-Wan, Cody, Riska, and Elick are supposed to leave for the Festival of Lights, Obi-Wan stands in front of his closet, freshly showered, beard trimmed, and, for the first time he can ever remember, debates what to wear.

This isn’t exactly a problem he’s familiar with; Jedi robes are near-enough to uniform he’s never thought about how they look, and although his Mandalorian attire has more variety, Obi-Wan rarely thinks it through more than making sure the colors he’s wearing don’t clash with each other. He’s fairly certain that Beto, as enthusiastic as he’d been about designing a wardrobe for Obi-Wan, would never give him clothing that clashed with him, and that’s not entirely a high priority for Obi-Wan anyway.

At least, not usually.

But today is different.

Anakin hasn’t stopped calling the trip a date since Obi-Wan told him about it, the insufferable teenager he is - this is most certainly not a date, and that is not why Obi-Wan is deliberating on his choice of outfit.

Rather, he simply wants to look his best for this diplomatic event, and while he does think that the formalwear Beto designed for him is too elaborate, it’s the only thing that seems to fit the occasion.

And if perhaps they… impress Cody a bit, well, that’s just a side effect, and it certainly does not factor into his decision.

He ends up selecting the blue outfit with the gold embroidery, because he’s always liked blue and the gold seems to fit the theme of the Festival of Lights; the red and black one would fit the color scheme of the red paper lanterns as well, but Obi-Wan can’t see anything other than Maul when he looks at it. No matter that the Sith is dead and gone.

He adjusts the buttons on the jacket, settles it more comfortably around his shoulders, and moves on to tuck sleepclothes and a fresh outfit into a knapsack, adds a few toiletries, and then eyes himself in the mirror.

It’ll do.

He slings the knapsack over his shoulder, absently checks to make sure his lightsaber is secure on his belt, and walks out into the living area of his suite, trailing his fingers over the broad leaves of one of the flowering plants as he goes. His lantern, with its carefully-carved charm for Qui-Gon (etched with a lightsaber igniting through the center of the Order’s insignia, the symbol he uses every year), is waiting for him on the low table, and he picks it up, checks it over to make sure it’s still in perfect condition, and then walks out of the room.

He’s supposed to meet Cody and the two advisors outside the entrance to the private landing pad behind the palace. From there they’ll take one of the few diplomatic ships in the Mandalorian Navy - or, at least, one of the few that aren’t outfitted with weapons. It’d be poor form to show up to a diplomatic event on the world you’re allied with with a warship.

Although he finds himself doubting anyone would be surprised.

He rounds a corner and nearly runs into Riska, in full armor with her helmet tucked under her arm; she’s pacing and looks impatient. “Finally,” she mutters, looking him up and down; Obi-Wan raises an eyebrow at her and doesn’t say anything, just waits until she rolls her eyes, mutters a curse under her breath, and moves out of his way.

Cody’s standing by the door, in deep blue with tones of copper that bring out his eyes, and Obi-Wan feels his mouth go dry, although a part of him is disappointed by the lack of the circlet - he’d, perhaps selfishly, hoped Cody would be wearing it, since this is a diplomatic function.

… not that that matters, of course.

Even with the unfortunate lack of the circlet, Cody looks nice, and Obi-Wan has to drag his eyes away, force himself to refocus with a quick round of meditation breathing. “Are we ready to go?” he asks Cody, deliberately keeping his eyes on Cody’s face and not letting them wander.

“I think so,” Cody says, smiling, eyeing Obi-Wan with the kind of look that almost makes him feel self-conscious. Or would, if he cared about Cody’s opinion on his outfit, which he does not, thank you very much. “You look nice.”

The slight pulse of relief he feels at that statement makes him think that perhaps he cares a touch more than he thought. “Thank you,” he says, tilts his head to one side briefly before motioning at Cody’s outfit. “I like the copper.”

Cody chuckles, warmly. “Good, I suppose we can leave, then.” He looks pleased, probably by the prospect of the festival (maybe by the compliment).

“Excellent,” Obi-Wan says, following Cody through the door leading to the exit through the biodome’s surface, and studiously ignoring Riska sniggering under her breath behind him.

“Master! Wait!”

Obi-Wan turns, halfway through the door, to see a very out-of-breath Anakin skidding to a stop, robes askew and a small bag in one hand. “Anakin, what are you doing here?” he asks, too amused by his padawan’s appearance to reprimand him for the sloppiness of it.

“I want to come,” he says.

Obi-Wan shrugs one shoulder, says, “Well, it’s alright with me. Come along, then, we’ll be late.”

Anakin grins, looking smug, and immediately wanders over to Riska, probably to gossip. Ah, well.

He supposes this is going to be quite the interesting night.

~~~

Cody realizes, as they make atmo and come in to land over Stewjon, that having never been here before, he had no idea what to expect. He’s somewhat delighted to find that everything looks green - it makes sense given they have an excellent agricultural trade, but Cody always enjoys getting to go to places that haven’t destroyed their natural ecosystems with centuries of constant war.

Elick and Anakin and Riska have been chatting in Basic for most of the trip - Cody himself is a bit preoccupied by all the issues they’ve been trying to figure out lately, so he just sits by Obi-Wan and fiddles with the hilt of his darksaber.

It’s a shame he couldn’t get Riska to wear something other than armor, but then he supposes one of them had to or Obi’s peers would be disappointed - somebody has to maintain their image, and he’s sure Riska will stab enough tables to make everyone feel as though they’ve had an authentic Mandalorian experience.

There’s a small group of diplomats waiting for them when they leave their ship, decked out in detailed gold jewelry and woven, colorful clothes - if Cody had to guess, he’d say it was all handmade. They’re very polite and welcoming, of course, and while Anakin and Riska look around at everything, Cody and Elick and Obi do their parts of being extremely polite in return. Cody can tell that none of them are entirely sure what to expect from him, which is understandable. He just takes Obi’s arm and thanks them for their hospitality, and they’re escorted to a long, low building that Obi-Wan tells him quietly is the embassy where he had an office before the alliance. There are rooms for Elick and Riska, although there’s a bit of shuffling with Anakin before Elick says Anakin can share his room, and then Cody and Obi and their respective small packs of belongings are left just inside the one room they’re meant to share, and it occurs to Cody that he should have realized that no one would expect a married couple to need or want separate rooms.

Ah, well. It’s not as if they’ll be spending much time in here.

He sets his bag on an armchair and stretches a bit, looking around - one room, a ‘fresher, one bed, a table and a few chairs. Objectively, it’s nice. He really just wants to get out to the festival.

“Ready to have some fun, Kenobi?” he asks, teasingly, adjusting his jacket and leaning against the side of the armchair.

“Very much so,” Obi answers, with a little grin.

“Well, then,” and Cody walks over to him and offers his arm again with a tilt of his head and a raised eyebrow, “why don’t you show me around?”

Obi-Wan takes his arm, still grinning with unaffected excitement, and reaches over to smooth out the lapel of Cody’s jacket. “I would be honored to,” he says, and Cody huffs a bit and tries to stifle the smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

“You’re a bit of a flatterer, you know,” he says, sagely, as they leave their room. “I think I see why you were the minister of interplanetary affairs.”

“Oh, I speak nothing but the truth,” Obi-Wan says, smoothly, and Cody laughs because he respects Obi-Wan but he doesn’t believe that for a minute. Obi taps his sleeve and then traces one of the lines of copper embroidery. “I do really like this,” he says, thoughtfully, as it’s very important that Cody be aware he approves of his wardrobe choices.

Cody’s tempted to say the color matches Obi’s hair. He doesn’t. “You’ll have to tell Beto, I’m sure he’s dying for your compliments,” he says, sarcastically, grinning as they step out into the sun and a crowd of brightly-dressed people like exotic birds. The capital city here is all wooden buildings with carved columns, and they’ve hung ribbons and wreaths of flowers and banners and still-unlit lanterns everywhere. Cody takes in a deep breath of fresh air and grins at a group of kids that’s sprinting past with a couple of tooka cats in tow. There are so many colors here, it’s a little dizzying.

“I still don’t think this type of attire suits me,” Obi-Wan says, huffily, and Cody gives him a look and shakes his head.

“It looks damn good on you, Obi-Wan,” he snorts. “Although I admit I like the style here, too,” and he gestures at the people around them. He’s a little curious how Obi would look in so many colors and all the jewelry that everyone else is wearing.

Obi’s turning colors now as it is, a bit red-faced, and seems unsure how he should respond, but then his focus shifts to another group of kids that’s milling around their parents’ legs and running up to different people to hand them small wreaths of red and gold and white flowers. “Hang on,” Obi says. “I’ll be right back.” He slips his arm free of Cody’s and hurries over to the kids, who press some of the flowers into his hands, apparently at his encouragement. He drops a couple credit sticks into their palms, which starts them cheering and bragging to their siblings, and Obi comes back over, sorting out the flowers he’s holding.

Before Cody can ask what the flowers are for, Obi’s reached up and settled one of two little wreaths on top of his head as a crown and then put the second on his own head, the flowers catching on his red hair. Cody snorts and adjusts the present a bit. “Are you serious, Obi?” he asks, amused.

“It’s tradition, Cody,” Obi-Wan insists, and well, Cody can’t really argue with that.

“Fine then.” Cody chuckles and winks. “I appreciate the present, of course.”

“Good,” Obi-Wan says, and pulls him across the street to a plaza full of booths and tables and even more lanterns and flowers and food everywhere. Obi pulls him to a specific table piled with desserts and says “You’ll want to try these,” gesturing at some kind of pastry, “and the alcohol is free and quite delicious,” gesturing at a table further to their right.

“Did you say alcohol?” Materializing from behind them, Riska, with Anakin behind her, pushes around Cody and makes a beeline for the indicated drinks, and Cody shakes his head.

“The fun begins,” he says, dryly.

Obi-Wan nudges him a bit, with a conspiratorial grin, and says, “Ten credits she ends up too drunk to walk by the end of the night.”

“It’s a toss-up,” Cody says. “She likes to be functional enough to start fights, so it really depends how much Elick annoys her.”

“Does that mean you’re taking the bet?”

“Hells, no, I’m not keeping an eye on her all night just to maybe win ten credits.” Cody grins and grabs one of the pastries to pop in his mouth. It’s chocolatey and a bit spicy and he reaches for another. “Come on, I want a drink too.”

~~~

“Me too,” Obi-Wan says, absently grabbing one of the same pastries he’d pointed out to Cody. “And before you go betting on my drinking habits, know that Jedi can use the Force to filter toxins, including alcohol, out of their bloodstream, so I will be exactly as intoxicated as I want to be.”

“Duly noted,” Cody says, with an amused grin.

Obi-Wan smiles back, brightly, takes a bite out of his pastry, and strides over to the drinks’ table to get himself a glass. “They’ll be lighting the candles soon,” he says with a grin. “As soon as the sun starts to set.” He takes a sip from his glass, nudges Cody away from the table with his shoulder - there are others trying to get to the alcohol and they’re in the way.

“Where do we do that?” Cody asks, curiously, and Obi-Wan grins.

“Look closer at the decorations,” he says, gesturing at the myriad of tiny, homemade, herb-scented candles tucked into the spiraling wood and streams of flowers. “When they’re all lit, it’s like-” He pauses, tilting his head to one side, considering. “Like the stars,” he says, finally, soft.

“That’ll be great,” Cody says, smiling warmly, nudging Obi-Wan’s shoulder with his own.

He definitely agrees.

They wander through the street for the next hour, Obi-Wan pointing out the various statues and pieces of art, telling Cody an abbreviated history of each one as they go by. Riska shows up on occasion, usually with Anakin in tow - she’s holding a drink every time but seems to be handling the liquor well, so far. Of course, the party hasn’t even started yet.

The few times he sees Elick, the advisor looks like he’s enjoying himself, although he has not donned one of the traditional flower crowns. Obi-Wan isn’t exactly surprised by the fact that he and Cody appear to be the only members of the Mandalorian envoy wearing flowers-

Oh, no, he catches a glimpse of Anakin twirling a flower wreath on one finger and thanking one of the children running around and handing the flowers out. Obi-Wan wonders if Anakin remembers when he used to come to the festival and hand out flowers himself.

Eventually the sun sets, and people move through the crowd, lighting the hundreds of candles scattered everywhere, and the paper lanterns, casting a warm, flickering red-gold glow on everything, bouncing off Cody’s hair and the copper in his outfit and the gold in his eyes and oh.

He’s beautiful.

Obi-Wan tears his eyes away, taking a drink from his freshly-refilled glass, and loops his arm through Cody’s again, tugs him down the street. “They’re going to start the dancing soon,” he says, grinning brightly, tries to keep his eyes from wandering to Cody’s face (and mostly not succeeding).

He wonders if Cody knows how to dance.

“Oh, I haven’t danced in a long time,” Cody says, wryly, but there’s a thread of something like concern in his voice.

“That’s alright,” Obi-Wan says. “You don’t actually have to dance.” If Cody doesn’t want to, Obi-Wan certainly won’t push him to - and in any case, it’s not like Obi-Wan himself will be missing out on some cataclysmic thing if he doesn’t. Certainly, he enjoys the dancing, but he’s hardly going to take another partner when he’s married, that’d be incredibly rude, even if they aren’t, well- It’s a political marriage, that’s all.

“No, I’d like to,” Cody says. “I just think I’ll be out of practice.”

Obi-Wan smiles. “Well, luckily, I can help you with that,” he says with a grin.
“Besides, this kind of dancing doesn’t require a set structure or moveset, not as much as the more elaborate ballroom dances you’d see at state events.”

Cody chuckles. “Okay, perfect.” He’s looking around at the stalls around them, a little grin on his face (which gives Obi-Wan ample opportunity to watch the way the reddish-gold light flickers across Cody’s face). “Excuse me for a moment, I’ll be right back.”

Obi-Wan just smiles and takes another sip of his drink, wanders absently over to a painted mural - this is new since the last time he was here, and he traces his fingers over a swirl of gold the shade of Cody’s eyes. This is nice, he’ll have to show Cody when he gets back from whatever it was he was grinning at-

“Hey, you,” someone says, and Obi-Wan turns a bit to see a young woman, dark hair and dark skin and eyes just a bit too bright - the nearly empty state of the glass in her hand makes sense. “Nice outfit,” and there’s a not-quite-smirk on her face.

Well, he supposes it is a decent outfit, and Cody had said it looks- what were his words? Damn good, right. “Thank you,” he says, adjusts the jacket a bit with one hand, absently taking another drink from his glass. Where did Cody get off to, anyway?

“Are you going to be dancing?” his- new friend, apparently, asks, raising an eyebrow and stepping a bit closer, startling him from his musings about Cody.

“Oh, eventually, I’m sure,” he says, idly swallows back the last of his drink and looks around for another table. He’s not filtering out all of the alcohol, like he probably should be - but there’s a pleasant warmth humming just below his skin and he feels more relaxed than he has in a while (except during those notable occasions in which he forgot to think and let himself banter with Cody like- well, like he’s not a Jedi), and it’s quite nice. “Not yet, though, things have just gotten started.”

“I’ll say,” she says with another bright grin. “Hey, you want another drink? I could use one.”

“I suppose so,” he says with a chuckle. “What’s your name, then?” He lets his eyes flicker around the festival for just a moment, looking for Cody’s distinctive frame. Will Cody be able to pick him out in all the mess? Maybe he should’ve just stayed where he was, but the mural is lovely and he’d wanted to look at it up close.

“I’m Jaina. What about you, honey?”

Well, the pet name is a bit odd and slightly discomfiting, and he shifts a bit. Says, a bit absently, “Obi-Wan,” because he thinks he can catch a glimpse of tell-tale blue and copper in the crowd, and maybe he should just go find Cody himself. That’d be the smart idea.

And he can get himself a new drink in the process.

~~~

Cody fingers the woolen scarf he has wrapped up in his hand and smiles to himself, making his way back through the crowd to the mural where he left Obi-Wan. He thinks Obi will like the scarf, for all that he doesn’t seem to prefer bright colors. In any case, he thinks he’ll appreciate the gesture.

Obi’s not standing by the mural anymore, somewhat to Cody’s surprise, but it doesn’t take much looking to spot his soft-blue jacket and bright-red hair. He’s picking up another drink off one of the tables, apparently talking with a tall, dark-skinned girl in a bright green dress. Cody starts over to them, shouldering through the crowd, and notices the woman nudging Obi-Wan a bit, turned towards him and smiling and toasting her glass towards him. Cody wonders if she’s someone Obi knew before, but he can’t quite help walking a little faster.

As he pushes through the last line of people up to the table, the woman props a hand on her hip and winks, telling Obi-Wan, “Well, let me know if you need someone to dance with, honey.”

Cody walks up behind Obi-Wan and smiles politely at the woman, placing a hand on Obi’s shoulder, although perhaps he should give Obi his space. “Unfortunately, I believe he has a partner already,” he says, wryly. “I had intended to monopolize his time this evening, unless he objects.”

Obi-Wan turns to look at him, grinning, and says, “There you are, I was wondering where you got off to.”

The woman looks extremely embarrassed, suddenly. “Shit,” she says, emphatically. “You’re that Obi-Wan? I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to-” She’s blushing, Cody thinks, and admittedly he feels a bit smug about it.

“Oh, no harm done, I’m sure,” Cody says, mildly, still smiling. “Enjoy the festival.” He nudges Obi-Wan slightly and walks away from the table without getting his own drink. Admittedly, he’s a little irritated by the incident, but then he shouldn’t have any reason to be.

Obi knocks his shoulder against Cody’s with a little conspiratorial smile. “What were you off doing?” he asks, and Cody snorts.

“While you were making new friends, I thought I’d get you this.” He grins and holds out the half-forgotten scarf to Obi-Wan - it’s red and blue and yellow and purple and very soft, and Obi-Wan takes it from him with a pleased look.

“This is nice,” he says, cheerfully, and proceeds to loop the scarf around his neck a couple times and adjust the folds of it. “How does it look?” he asks, and Cody reaches over to fiddle with it a bit himself.

“Very nice,” he declares, and decides to take Obi’s arm again, sighing a bit. “Who was that, anyway?”

“No idea,” Obi-Wan admits, comfortably, watching a group of musicians getting set up at the edge of the square. “She just walked up to me while I was looking at the mural and started talking.”

The irritation Cody was feeling is replaced by embarrassment and a great deal of amusement; he gives Obi-Wan a look and huffs, “The fact that she was flirting with you had nothing to do with it, right?”

Obi, as he’d somewhat expected, just looks disconcerted and then sighs, a touch sheepish. “Things make slightly more sense now,” he says, dryly, adding, “I was distracted by wondering what you were doing, I honestly wasn’t paying all that much attention.”

Cody smiles slightly, growing amused. “Come on, Obi-Wan, you can’t seriously tell me that she called you honey and it didn’t occur to you she might be interested in you.”

"Like I said, I was a bit distracted," Obi-Wan huffs. "I did think that was odd, but some people use pet names in regular conversation and she was tipsy, so…" He shrugs, and Cody laughs at him.

"You're a dumbass, Obi," he says, fondly. He really should have known, based on past experience, that Obi-Wan is… a bit oblivious at times.

Obi-Wan rolls his eyes. "Alright fine, if you say so."

Cody just laughs and looks back over at the musicians, who have settled in at their corner of the square, and as he watches, strike up a few trial notes on their instruments, barely audible over the noise of the crowd. Glancing at Obi, he says, a touch sheepishly, “Really, you know, Obi-Wan, I don’t actually care if-” He snorts, annoyed at himself. “If you wanted to not hang by me all night. I just said that to make that lady leave you alone.”

Obi-Wan gives him a look as if he’s said something very ridiculous. “Of course I want to, Cody,” he says, dryly.

Cody shakes his head and snorts. “I know.” Sort of. “Just didn’t wanna seem like a jackass.”

“Don’t worry, you sound like nothing of the sort,” Obi-Wan says, seemingly amused. Cody, without thinking, reaches up to adjust Obi’s scarf again. Everyone seems to be moving into the center of the square with their partners, and the musicians have found an actual tune to stick to that Cody can hear much better now, light and jaunty. He nudges Obi-Wan again a little, smiling.

“Should we go try to dance?” he asks.

“If you think you can keep up,” Obi-Wan answers, grinning.

Cody shakes his head and starts towards the people who are already dancing, tugging Obi with him a bit. “Oh, I don’t know if I can, but I’m game to try, at least.”

Obi smiles, very bright and still mischievous. “Then may I have this dance, my husband?” he asks, holding his hand out. Cody swallows a little and then, of course, takes his riduur’s hand.

“Of course you may,” he says, formally, “ner’riduur.” They’re just teasing. He knows that. Because it’s a party. Still, it warms his chest a little too much.

~~~

Obi-Wan leads Cody out into the crowded square, trying not to focus too much on the feel of Cody’s hand in his. It’s been a while since he had an excuse to dance; while there is dancing at many of the diplomatic events he’s attended as a Jedi representative or mediator, he’s rarely able to join in the dancing. Something about the Jedi robes and the very-well-known “no attachments” rule tends to scare off potential partners - or perhaps they just don’t think Jedi want to dance.

And Obi-Wan has no shame in admitting that he does enjoy dancing, especially with the right partner.

He thinks Cody is definitely the right partner.

Cody might not be incredibly familiar with dancing, but he moves with the practiced grace and ease of a dancer - it makes sense, because in so many ways fighting is a dance. He and Cody might not have sparred together many times, yet, but they’ve fought back-to-back and they’re already familiar with each other’s movements. Dancing is almost easy, after fighting for survival.

He twirls Cody through the fast-paced movements as the songs flow together, and it’s all bright and warm, colors and music and laughter blending together into something almost hypnotic, and Obi-Wan thinks he’s probably staring too much at Cody’s smile, but he can’t entirely help himself.

Maybe it’s the alcohol.

Maybe it’s… just Cody.

He shouldn’t think like that, he shouldn’t, it’s not the Jedi way. But sometimes, around Cody, he- Well. He doesn’t question the Jedi, he doesn’t, but he… wonders.

He knows he shouldn’t keep pushing this aside, keep forgetting - no, deliberately ignoring - what he is. The Council specifically told him, after all, that he was to keep the Order as his first priority, and he swore he would.

But just for tonight. Just one more night, he tells himself, because this is his favorite night of the year, and it’s a party, and everything is warm and brilliant and the Force sings with the beauty and rightness of it all.

So just for tonight, he lets himself forget about everything he needs to remember, and he lets himself stare.

The music changes, after a bit, to something slower and softer, and Obi-Wan finds himself stepping closer to Cody out of instinct, settling a hand on Cody’s waist. Cody takes his hand again, shifts a hand to Obi-Wan’s shoulder, and his eyes are so warm and soft and Obi-Wan thinks he could fall into them, if he let himself.

Tonight, he very much wants to let himself.

“This isn’t the kind of dancing you have on Mandalore,” he says, softer than he means. “It’s more like… swaying.”

“So I noticed,” Cody says, warm (everything is so warm, here), a hint of laughter in his voice. “I like it, though.”

“I admit,” Obi-Wan says, “I never understood so much why people were so invested in this kind of dancing. I suppose having the right partner is a bit of a prerequisite.”

Cody grins. “I imagine so. Luckily, I think you qualify.”

“Well, you certainly do,” Obi-Wan chuckles, easily maneuvers them around a very-enthusiastically-kissing couple. Honestly, people have no decorum, he probably shouldn’t even be surprised anymore. “I should’ve realized that our experiences fighting together would make dancing quite a bit easier.”

“That’s a bit of a stretch, dear.” Cody’s amused, not-quite-laughing, and Obi-Wan doesn’t mind the term of endearment as much as he thinks he should. It just feels natural.

“What, you don’t think this is easy?” he asks with another chuckle.

“Oh, it is easy,” Cody says, “but I suspect that’s because of many childhood lessons rather than combat experience.”

“Ah, you reveal your inexperience,” Obi-Wan says, with a wink. “All the lessons in the galaxy don’t matter if you aren’t in sync with your partner, and to be in sync with your partner, you have to be familiar with them. Hence the combat experience coming in handy.” He grins, leans a bit closer. “And luckily, we seem to be fairly in sync.”

“Luckily indeed,” Cody says. “I won’t be winning any awards for my footwork.”

“Think of it like it’s a spar,” Obi-Wan suggests, “that’s how I learned. Well- I thought of it like a lightsaber form, which isn’t entirely applicable to you.” It’d been hours spent closeted away in one of the salles with a music player and a holoprojector, watching countless videos on the HoloNet of different dancing forms, until Qui-Gon saw him one day and asked do you want help with that? without a trace of judgement in his voice.

He’d tried to teach Anakin once, but Anakin hadn’t wanted to learn.

“If I think of it like a spar, you’ll end up with your ass on the ground, Obi-Wan,” Cody says, dust-dry, and Obi-Wan rolls his eyes.

“Fine,” he huffs, swallowing back the smile threatening to emerge, “maybe I’ll just stop trying to help, then.” He can’t totally hide the smile for long - everything is warm and amused and happy, echoing into the Force, and that wave of emotion wraps him up and carries him along with it.

Cody grins, raising an eyebrow. “What, isn’t my dancing good enough for you?”

“Well,” Obi-Wan says, dragging the word out, nearly pointed, “it could use some work.” That’s hardly true, but there’s something purely fun about teasing Cody, and tonight is not a night to shy away from that.

“If you’re gonna be like that, I’m not dancing with you.”

“Come now, Cody,” and Obi-Wan gives him a not-quite-pleading look, although he can’t stifle his wide smile, “you’ll ruin the fun.”

~~~

Cody can’t help but think that maybe dancing with Obi-Wan was a bit of a bad call, on his part. Not that he’s not enjoying himself, because he is, but if anything he’s probably enjoying himself too much. He’s not being careful, and he should be, it’s just- For once it seems like Obi-Wan doesn’t mind if they’re close, if they act like- Well, like they want to be married, he guesses. He tries not to think about it, though - it’s better just to enjoy the party.

At one point, he sees that Riska has dragged Anakin out into the dancing and is half-hauling him around in what is apparently an attempt to teach him to dance - not the most successful one, it would seem. Cody nudges Obi-Wan a little and nods his head at the two of them. “Look, Obi,” he says, chuckling.

Obi-Wan laughs also and shakes his head. “She’s doing better than I ever did,” he says, which doesn’t say much about Anakin’s ability to dance.

“Maybe we should just put Riska in charge of him for good, it… mostly wouldn’t be a disaster,” Cody muses, teasingly. “I’m sure they’d have fun and stab lots of things.”

Obi-Wan smiles, fond. “And set half of Sundari on fire.”

“Oh, without a doubt.” And Riska would probably just shrug and say their infrastructure budget could cover it. Or else she’d blame the entire thing on Anakin despite knowing Cody would never believe her. Cody chuckles to himself and adjusts his hand on Obi’s shoulder, moves a little closer.

Everyone’s gotten quieter (except for Anakin and Riska, that is), and Cody slips his arm around Obi-Wan’s shoulders and pulls him the rest of the way against his chest. He’d never thought he’d wanted something like this, before, but he hadn’t known it could be this good, either. And it’s not a good idea, probably, but he has to admit he wants this. More than he’s wanted anything for a long time.

Obi-Wan sighs a bit and rests his head on Cody’s shoulder, and Cody smiles to himself and looks around absently, noticing people beginning to break off the crowd and disperse, so he taps Obi’s shoulder with one hand. “Where’s everyone going?” he asks, quietly.

Obi-Wan pulls back, some, to smile at him. “It’s almost time to release the lanterns,” he says, and Cody stops dancing and steps back, grinning possibly more than is appropriate, given this is supposed to be a way to remember people you’ve lost. He just can’t wait to see it.

“We should go get ours,” he says, trying to be more serious.

Obi-Wan nods. “Yes, we don’t want to miss the moment.”

They end up finding a rooftop to release their lanterns from, so they can see even more of the city when it’s time. It’s just someone’s house but they got permission to go up, and there are little boxes of vegetable plants and flowers and some very neat trellises covered in vines. It’s even quieter up here than it was in the streets, and Cody holds his lantern very carefully and leans against the low wall around the edge of the roof. He wants to see when the first lanterns are released, as soon as possible - he’s curious, and that’ll mean they can light theirs.

Although he’s watching so carefully, he still misses the first few until they’re suddenly just points of light above the buildings, bright golden and round like little suns. He grins and looks at Obi-Wan, raising an eyebrow. “Can we light ours now?” he asks, trying to be casual.

“Yes,” Obi-Wan says, with a bright, pleased grin, and after lighting his own lantern, which he doesn’t let go of yet, he passes the lighter to Cody. Cody watches his lantern light up orange-gold when he holds the light to it, and there’s a little pull to it now against his fingers. He sets the lighter down and glances at Obi, smiling.

“Now?” he asks, eager.

“Now,” Obi-Wan agrees, and Cody chuckles a little and leans forward and lets go.

The lights float up from the rooftop so slow, flickering bright, and Cody takes a second to close his eyes and say his daily remembrance to himself, with the names of his mother and his friends, and when he opens his eyes again there are even more lights rising up from the streets. He smiles a little and breathes out, slow, just watching. It looks like a whole city of stars is waking up.

The longer they stand there, the less Cody can see the buildings and the outlines of streets, and the more it’s just brightness and light everywhere - they’re surrounded by gold and yellow and orange like a slow explosion, and Cody glances at Obi to tell him something, he’s not sure, he just wants to know Obi’s looking at it too. Obi-Wan is smiling, softly, looking a bit distant, and Cody thinks he’s wonderful.

Cody forgets to look back at the lights.

“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” Obi-Wan asks, quietly, like he doesn’t want to disturb anything, and Cody swallows a bit.

“Yeah,” he says, warm, watching the way the light changes the color of Obi’s hair. “It is.”

Obi-Wan’s still for a moment, then he glances at Cody and smiles a bit bemusedly. “You’re not watching,” he says, sounding amused.

Cody’s lips quirk up a bit and he shakes his head. “No, I guess I’m not,” he says. Obi’s eyes look so bright.

Obi-Wan turns towards him, his smile growing very soft, and Cody’s painfully aware of his own heartbeat. Everything feels a little bit possible, right now. “I suppose I can see why.”

Cody reaches over, careful, and takes Obi’s hand, stepping a little closer and trying to decide if he dares to push things, just a little. It can’t hurt anything, really, and Obi-Wan’s still just looking at him like maybe this is okay. “Hey,” Cody says, quiet, grinning a little.

“Hey yourself,” Obi answers, smiling too, and Cody can’t really help turning more toward him and bringing his free hand up to brush his fingers over Obi’s cheekbone. Obi’s eyes flutter closed and he tilts his head into Cody’s hand, and Cody sighs a bit and stops telling himself he shouldn’t do this. Obi’s beard is scratchy against his fingers and it’s just so easy to lean in and-

“Hey, Master!” Anakin comes careening past a set of garden boxes and Cody’s never moved so fast in his entire life, jolting back from Obi-Wan and tucking his hands behind his back and briefly considering murder. “Have you seen my-” Anakin stops, as abruptly as he’d arrived, and looks back and forth between Cody and Obi-Wan (who is blushing and maintaining the same ramrod-straight posture Cody’s adopted). “Am I interrupting something?”

“Oh, no,” Obi-Wan says, mildly.

Yes, Cody thinks, less mildly.

Riska and Elick come hurrying up behind Anakin and Riska gives Cody a cringing look and a shrug. He ignores her.

Anakin looks between them again, hesitates, then declares, “Well anyway, I can’t find my lantern and I thought you might’ve had it.”

“No,” Cody says, forcing a patience he does not possess. “We don’t have your lantern, Anakin, and I personally haven’t seen it.” And if he sees it now, he’s throwing it in the nearest body of water.

Obi-Wan sighs, deeply. “What have I told you about setting things down and walking off without them?”

“I… didn’t mean to?” Anakin cringes, and Cody rubs his face and shoots Riska a long-suffering look. Gods damn it. All the comfortable closeness and warmth just feels a lightyear away, now. Cody sticks his hands in his pockets and tries not to mind.

~~~

Anakin’s arrival is like a shock of cold water against his face, startling Obi-Wan out of the haze of warmth and peace and happiness of the Force. Whatever he’d been- intending to do, here, he thinks the Force and the general air of the festival and the alcohol are to blame. “It’s too late now,” he tells Anakin, shaking his head a bit. “You should’ve kept a closer eye on it.”

“It’s not my fault,” Anakin says, quickly, “Riska drug me off to dance and I couldn’t carry it the whole time, it would’ve gotten broken. Isn’t that a bad omen?”

The Jedi don’t ascribe much meaning to omens in the traditional sense, but it’s true that according to tradition and cultural significance, a lantern broken before it’s released signifies broken memories, souls lost before they can be carried up to join the stars. Obi-Wan sighs, tucks his hands behind him and steps away from Cody a little (only a small part of him mourning the loss of- everything). “Fair enough. The lesson, then, is not to buy your lantern until after the dancing.”

Anakin grumbles to himself, a mishmash of Huttese dialects, and huffs a sigh. “I didn’t know I was going to be dancing, Master.”

“I’m sure, I’m quite well aware you dislike it,” Obi-Wan says, amused, recalling the attempts at teaching before he’d decided to choose a different battle. He glances back out over the city, notes that most of the lanterns have dissipated into the upper atmosphere, joining the stars in twinkling down on them. “It’s late, we should head back to the embassy.”

“Yeah, I guess we better,” Cody says, and there’s something like disappointment and frustration emanating from him.

Obi-Wan supposes that’s only to be expected, all things considered. He can’t deny, entirely, that a part of him feels the same.

He pushes that part of him down a bit more firmly and turns away from the starry sky for the last time, following Anakin, Riska, and Elick through the garden to the stairs leading down to the street.

(And if a part of him is still cataloguing everything, crystallizing this memory into something he’ll never forget, well. That’s only to be expected, too.)

The walk back to the embassy is quiet. The five of them are all- not subdued, exactly, but quiet now, the energy of the party settling into something softer and more languid. Teams of people move through the street, cleaning up trash and discarded flowers and occasional scraps of paper; most of the partygoers are vanishing into houses for sleep, or buildings for continued revelry. Obi-Wan has a suspicion Riska would be among the latter group if they didn’t have to leave fairly early in the morning.

Once they arrive back at the embassy, Anakin goes with Elick into the furthest-down of their three rooms, Riska tosses Obi-Wan and Cody a jaunty salute and disappears into hers, and then it’s just the two of them.

Cody still feels frustrated.

Obi-Wan chooses to ignore that, instead stepping into their room with a sigh, absently pulling off his new scarf and arranging it on the desk, tugging his jacket off and draping it over the back of one of the chairs. “Do you want the fresher first?” he asks, pulling his lightsaber from his belt and setting it on the bedside table.

“Yeah, sure,” Cody says, grabbing some things from his bag and vanishing into the fresher, the door closing behind him. A moment later, Obi-Wan hears the shower turn on.

Good, that gives him a few moments of space, to gather himself.

He settles himself onto the floor, cross-legged, closes his eyes and lets the Force flow through him, releases all the complex feelings the evening has stirred in him, breathes deep and slow and steady until he’s found his center again.

When Cody comes out of the fresher, hair damp and sticking to his forehead, in sweats and a loose shirt, Obi-Wan does his best to ignore the fact that all he really wants to do right now is stare. Instead, he gathers his own sleepclothes and toiletries and slips into the fresher himself, takes his own shower, spends the entire time he’s getting ready for bed just… thinking. And trying not to, mainly.

It was the alcohol, he tells himself. That’s the reason he let Cody brush his fingers over his cheek, like he’s something special, that’s the reason he leaned into the touch despite knowing where it would inevitably lead, where the whole night seems, now, to have been leading. It was… a mistake. That’s all.

And yet he cannot quite push away the fact that it’s a mistake he wanted to happen.

If the Council could see him now, they’d be horrified. Worthy of Mastery? Hardly. Much less a seat on the Council itself.

Oh, it’s not the near-kiss that’s the problem, he’s aware of that. Jedi are, of course, allowed… experimentation, as long as it’s assured there is no attachment involved in the action.

Obi-Wan has known since he hit puberty and his Master informed him of this that that would be near-impossible for him.

He sighs, pulls on his shirt, gathers up his dirty formalwear, and steps back into the main room, crossing over to his bag to reorganize his things. Cody’s sitting in the chair not taken by Obi-Wan’s jacket, absently cleaning his blaster; his hair is still damp and his shirt sticks to him just enough that Obi-Wan can make out the lines of his muscles, and- that’s a dangerous view, really.

He looks away, quickly, swallows, is proud that his voice is steady and unaffected when he says, “I’ll take the floor.”

He can feel the weight of Cody’s irritated glare before he even looks up to see it. “Kenobi, it’s fine, I’ll take the floor.”

Obi-Wan raises an eyebrow. “I am perfectly capable of sleeping on a floor, Cody, I’ve done it many a time,” he says, and does not mention that it’s usually when diplomats only give him and Anakin one room and he lets Anakin have the bed.

“Yes, and I’ve slept on the ground before, I don’t have an issue with it,” Cody says, and that’s not the issue here. “This is your planet, I think they’d disapprove if I let you sleep on the floor.”

“You make it sound like the Prime Minister herself is going to be inspecting our sleeping arrangements. Seems a bit intimate,” Obi-Wan says without thinking, slightly edged, and then sighs. This is not worth an argument over.

“That’s not what I meant,” Cody huffs, annoyed. “I just think you should take the bed, is all.” He’s frustrated, still, that’s echoing out into the Force - Obi-Wan should teach him how to shield so that his emotions don’t leak out so freely.

“I’m aware of what you meant,” Obi-Wan says, evenly, and rubs at his face with a sigh. “This is ridiculous, we’re both adults, we’re quite capable of sharing.”

Cody’s quiet for a moment, and for half a heartbeat Obi-Wan thinks maybe he overstepped with his suggestion, but then: “Yeah, you’re right, I don’t feel like making an issue of this. I just need sleep.” Cody smiles, wry and rueful, and Obi-Wan nods.

“Then it’s settled,” he says. “Although, if you kick me in your sleep you will end up on the floor.” He adds a smile to the end of the threat, to bely its seriousness, shakes his head.

Cody gets up with a chuckle, setting his blaster aside and sitting down on the bed, pulling the blankets back. “I can’t make any promises.”

Obi-Wan just shakes his head, amused, and climbs into bed next to Cody, waves one hand almost negligently and concentrates just enough to flick the light switch from across the room, plunging them into darkness. “Technically I’m not supposed to do that,” he says, absently, “judicious use of the Force and all, but I get tired of stubbing my toes on things because I can’t see.”

Cody laughs, just a little. “I don’t get most of your rules, Obi-Wan.”

“It’s more to do with respecting the Force as a massive, unique entity we can hardly comprehend, and not using it for mundane things, like turning off a light from in bed,” Obi-Wan says, electing to ignore the hint of bitterness he can sense. It’s… only fair. A small part of him (larger than he’d like) feels the same bitterness, or had before he’d meditated and released the emotions. He sighs, lays down with his back to Cody, closes his eyes and tucks one hand under his cheek. “Goodnight, Cody.”

“Goodnight.”

There is no emotion, there is peace.

Obi-Wan breathes in, holds the air in his lungs for just a moment, and when he exhales, he breathes out all the pesky emotions he can’t quite control, can’t quite release, and lets himself fall into the peace of the Force, and sleep.

Chapter Text

Cody wakes up comfortable, warm and curled up, which is absolutely fantastic, for a minute. He turns his head, sleepily, to check the room’s chrono - it’s about thirty minutes before they need to get up, so he intends to try to get that extra thirty minutes until he drops his head back against the pillow and realizes that half the reason he’s so warm is because Obi’s holding onto him in his sleep, his face pressed against Cody’s shoulder and one arm slung around his waist. Cody realizes also that his hand is twisted in Obi’s shirt, and he quickly lets go and pulls away so he can get up. It’s nice, being close, but he’s not going to keep being stupid. He needs to get back to politics and his duty and stop kriffing around when he knows better.

He goes to the fresher for a shower and a change, and when he comes back Obi-Wan is awake and sitting up, rubbing blearily at his face. Cody goes over to get his jacket and pull it on over his shirt, although it’s five times fancier than the clothes he brought for today - he just wants the warmth. “Good morning,” he says, to Obi-Wan, going to sit at the table and getting out his datapad.

“It is far too early to be considered ‘good,’” Obi-Wan grumbles, running a hand through his hair and making it even messier than it already was.

Cody glances at him and smiles a little, amused. “Not a morning person, I take it?”

“Not in the slightest,” Obi huffs irritably.

“Well, I’m sure we can get some caf somewhere. Or I guess you still drink tea, don’t you?”

“You guess?” Obi-Wan looks very weary of his opinions, which pulls a smile out of Cody. “Cody, tea is far superior to caf in every conceivable way.”

“Except for the taste,” Cody mutters, to himself. “If I wanted to taste leaves I would just eat them, not drink them watered down.”

Obi-Wan doesn’t even look amused by Cody’s critique, and ends up shaking his head, muttering to himself in a language that doesn’t sound like Mando’a or Basic, and coming over to grab his things and march to the fresher. Cody shakes his head a little and goes back to browsing the HoloNet.

As it turns out, neither of them gets caf or tea until they get back to Mandalore, much to Obi-Wan’s particular displeasure, and they spend most of the flight back with Riska and Anakin and Elick giving he and Obi what they must think are very furtive looks of curiosity. Don’t bother, Cody wants to tell them. I’m pretty sure the whole thing was a big mistake.

All the same, it doesn’t feel like a mistake. Not to him. Not really.

Not that anybody cares.

Everyone’s very curious about the festival for a while, and of course Cody says it was amazing, because it was, and then the meetings all shift to talking about Bo-Katan’s mission and what they’re calling New Death Watch (for lack of a better name) and everything else they have to accomplish. Everything settles back to normal, most of all Obi-Wan’s behavior. Cody’s not sure what he expected, he supposes, but a part of him had still thought that maybe Obi was changing his mind, at the festival, and maybe it wasn’t just because of the alcohol and the party - but apparently that was all there was to it. Everyone got a little carried away, that was all.

He tells Rex about it, when they have some time to themselves. Once Rex stops swearing about the fact that Cody has gone and fallen head-over-heels stupid for a Jedi, he commiserates more than Cody had expected he would. Cody explains about all the reasons Obi-Wan gave for why Jedi don’t do emotions, and Rex agrees that they’re kriffing stupid, which helps a little.

Cody starts regularly sparring with Obi-Wan. While they do that, Anakin’s usually practicing forms on the training grounds, although Riska has also talked him into learning to use some of the Mandalorian equipment. The most entertaining thus far has been her trying to show him how to use a jetpack - he’s alright at it, but the first time he tries he crashlands in a flurry of sparks and curses. Cody laughs almost as hard as Riska.

There’s a time Anakin is doing a form while they’re sparring, and apparently he gets frustrated because when Obi-Wan beats Cody (for what has to be the hundredth time), Jak has actually marched over to Anakin and is giving him grudging advice.

“You think too much, ad,” he tells him, gruff. “You either need to learn to leave all the extra stuff out of your fighting, or you need to channel it, but as it is you’re flailing around like a blind bantha.”

Cody doesn’t think Obi-Wan’s happy about the advice, exactly, but nobody, not even Obi, argues with Jak. Still, Cody’s pretty sure Obi-Wan and Anakin end up having a rather separate conversation on the way back into the palace, based on their expressions. Something about the incident rubs Cody the wrong way, but he doesn’t want to say anything. It’s just that it seems like for all that Obi-Wan is here, and acts like he’s part of things, he really would rather not have to be here with- on Mandalore at all. Sometimes Cody thinks it’s like he’s really afraid Anakin’s going to turn out like them, like that’d be such a bad thing, and it stings a little. He doesn’t mean to be hurt, or angry, but sometimes he just wants to tell Obi-Wan to leave Anakin alone, even though he knows that’s not how it works and knows Obi-Wan is supposed to be Anakin’s teacher.

He thinks it’s really just because he’s selfish. He just keeps thinking about what it would be like if Obi-Wan wasn’t a Jedi, if he didn’t have all the rules about emotions and relationships, how good it could be.

But really, though, things mostly aren’t so bad, when he doesn’t focus on what he doesn’t have. Obi-Wan has lunch with him almost every day, and Cody keeps slipping plants and flowers into Obi-Wan’s room. Cody’s getting even better with the darksaber, with Obi to spar with, although he’s always impressed and annoyed by how Obi-Wan seems to always manage to pull a win out of their matches. It’s good practice and sometimes it’s when Cody feels like he most understands Obi-Wan. Fighting is so much easier than trying to talk - and it’s not even as if talking to Obi-Wan is difficult. Cody feels like he can tell him things he can’t tell everyone else, about what he’s worried about, when he’s not sure he can manage everything he has to do, and Obi-Wan always listens. Even when Cody doesn’t agree with Obi-Wan, it’s better to be with him and talking to him than not.

For all their worry, after a month or so, Bo-Katan tells them Pre is just trying to build up strength for the time being and hasn’t shown any signs of beginning a campaign yet. Cody doesn’t like that either, but it’s better than if he were actively moving against them, although he doesn’t think all his advisors see it that way. But it’s peace for the time being, and that’s what matters, even if it’s not ideally what he wants. It’s good enough. He just has to remember that. It’s better than he expected.

~~~

Time passes, faster than expected.

Obi-Wan spends his days working with Cody’s advisors, both on mundane tasks like budgeting and hiring contractors to repair the broken support strut that makes the east landing platform and loading dock unstable and on strategizing, coming up with different strategies Pre might be using and ways to counter them. So far, they haven’t had to put any of those countermeasures in place yet, but they’re prepared. Just in case.

He spars with Cody almost daily, now, the exercise forcing him to stretch himself out to his limits and surpass those, to move beyond the constraints of the Jedi forms and piece together new ways of fighting. It’s an exhilarating thing, these spars. The first time Cody uses his unique Mandalorian bracers to try and give himself an advantage, he very nearly wins a round - Obi-Wan’s not expecting to get hit with a pulse reminiscent of a Force-push, especially one he couldn’t sense from the movement of the Force around him, and it’s only his instincts and years of training that allow him to twist the momentum into a flip. After that, he has little qualms about using his own Force abilities, and the matches get considerably more interesting for a while.

Anakin’s training is progressing well; he and Obi-Wan go on a few more Jedi missions, most of which go according to plan, a couple of which don’t. Anakin is still too emotional, prone to acting on his feelings without considering them or releasing them, and his Mando friends are only encouraging this behavior, which frustrates Obi-Wan, although he has to admit that Anakin’s improved drastically in saber combat since Jak decided to give him advice.

For the most part, everything is good.

But there are times, especially when it’s just him and Cody, when Obi-Wan can’t help but think about laughter and brilliant, warm smiles, about standing too close and swaying to the soft music, about a hand on his face, soothing lightly across his cheekbone. He shouldn’t think of it, shouldn’t remember the realization that Cody was going to kiss him and the way that felt, something warm and swooping in his stomach, because he wanted, more than he’s ever wanted anything in his life, he thinks.

He knows it was a mistake, all of it. The closeness, the laughter, the dancing, the near-kiss. But sometimes that’s hard to remember.

Still, Obi-Wan looks forward to the daily spars with Cody, to the time they spend together. It’s companionable, and despite the fact that sometimes it’s quite difficult to remember his duty, Obi-Wan manages.

(Sometimes, though, he still dreams.)

By the time six months have passed since the wedding, Obi-Wan and Anakin are both well-integrated into daily life at the palace and in Sundari as a whole. Anakin’s taking up a training regime with Riska in addition to his training with Obi-Wan; Obi-Wan approves, for the most part, because it’s gotten Anakin to finally focus on his lightsaber skills, the innate talent Obi-Wan’s always known his padawan possessed, but has never been able to get him to care enough to unlock. However, there are times in which Riska’s advice is decidedly against what the Jedi would approve of. Obi-Wan tries not to discuss these instances with Anakin in front of everyone, for the most part, as it wouldn’t be entirely polite, but he has the feeling that Cody at least is aware of these discussions all the same, and doesn’t approve of them.

But it’s hardly Cody’s place to decide how Anakin is trained.

Still, there is tension, a tension that’s been building since shortly after the Festival of Lights, and Obi-Wan dreads when it will all come to a head.

It ends up happening on a perfectly ordinary day, in the middle of a perfectly ordinary sparring match.

Obi-Wan is focusing intently on his spar with Cody, paying only background attention to Anakin fighting with Riska - he can’t spare the attention, at the moment, as Cody’s pressing a hard offensive and Obi-Wan’s having to pull on all his considerable knowledge of Soresu to fend him off. Anakin’s been growing increasingly frustrated, in the background, and as Obi-Wan prepares to nudge him mentally, a reminder to release his frustration, he hears Riska say, “You should channel all that into your attack, it’ll make you stronger and more focused.”

And that is the exact opposite of how a Jedi must fight, that is how one reaches the Dark Side- but instead of ignoring her, Obi-Wan can feel Anakin listen, and he disengages from Cody abruptly, turns away from their spar and crosses the short distance to where Anakin’s sparring with Riska.

“Anakin,” he snaps, quickly, “what are you doing? You know better than to channel your negative emotions that way.”

“It’s just some advice Riska gave me,” Anakin says, but he looks abashed. “Sorry, Master.”

“You are well aware of what that kind of advice can lead to,” Obi-Wan says, taking a deep breath. “That’s enough sparring practice for the day - you should spend some time in meditation.”

“But-” Anakin grits his teeth and lets out a frustrated sigh. “Yes, Master,” he says, deactivates his lightsaber and returns it to his belt. “Sorry Riska.” And he turns and heads back for the palace and, presumably, his room.

Obi-Wan shakes his head, presses his lips together in a thin line. His padawan is already too close to the Dark without anyone’s outside help.

“Look, Riska,” he says, tiredly, “I appreciate what you've been doing to help Anakin. But I can't have you giving him that kind of advice.”

~~~

Cody’s surprised at Obi-Wan’s abrupt abandonment of their sparring session, and even more surprised at the cause of it - Obi’s frustration with Riska’s advice is somewhat understandable, but Cody doesn’t appreciate Obi telling Anakin off in front of everyone, and when Obi-Wan tells Riska she can’t give advice, when that’s what training is for - well, he agreed to let Anakin practice with her. It’s not her fault if she gives Anakin the best advice she has, and Anakin’s certainly old enough to judge for himself whether it’s good or not.

“I don’t see the problem,” Riska says, looked piqued, eyebrows going up. “He’s got all this extra stuff going on in his head and it’s affecting his focus. He’s got to do something with it, and if it gives him a little extra drive and energy when he’s fighting, I don’t see what you’re objecting to.”

Cody winces, tucking his hands behind his back and curling one of his hands tightly around his wrist. He knows why Obi-Wan objects, they’ve had this conversation, but he just wants Obi-Wan to let it go and not bother Riska about his philosophies. She’s not Obi-Wan’s student, and she can say what she damn well wants to.

Obi-Wan sighs. “Jedi don't channel negative emotions into their fighting, Riska, that leads to dangerous paths for us. Anakin's still learning how to let go of those emotions - it's something even older Jedi struggle with.”

Riska shakes her head, looking away, clearly displeased. “Well, it didn’t seem like what he was trying was working for him, so I made a suggestion. I just wanted to help.”

“I know, and I do appreciate it, but that’s not the kind of technique Jedi employ.” Obi-Wan says, sighing again. “Think of it as ridiculous philosophy if you want, but it’s not our way.”

Riska smiles, although the expression is a bit tight, and huffs a short laugh. “Fine, Kenobi,” she says, and gestures loosely as if to dismiss the topic. “Sorry to interrupt your spar.”

“We’re fine,” Cody tells her, dry, and Riska nods a bit and marches off to do some solo exercises. Cody sighs and presses his lips together in the only sign of disapproval he’s willing to show, turns to head back inside.

Obi-Wan comes with him, his hands also folded behind his back - Cody can tell he’s frustrated (which makes two of them), and he’s considering saying something to try to smooth things over when Obi shakes his head a little and says, half to himself, “Anakin should honestly know better than to listen to that kind of advice.”

“What kind of advice?” Cody snaps, and instantly regrets it - he should just let it go, he knows the comment wasn’t even really directed at him, but it’s frustrating.

Obi-Wan shoots him a look, impatient. “The kind of advice that turns Jedi into Sith.”

Cody doesn’t mean to laugh, exactly, he just does before he can stop himself. “You think my friend’s going to make Anakin become a Sith?” he asks, a bit incredulous. “Come on, Obi-Wan.”

“I never said that,” Obi-Wan says, although he basically did, “but telling a Jedi to channel anger and frustration into the Force is telling them to use the Dark Side.”

“Riska never said anything about the Force,” Cody sighs. “And I think Anakin could have told her himself, you didn’t have to-” He stops, grits his teeth a bit, and stops walking towards the palace, crossing his arms. “Kriff, Obi-Wan, Riska can give advice you don’t agree with, you know.”

“Didn’t have to do what?” Obi asks, a bit challengingly, turning to face him. “What you couldn’t feel and I could is that Anakin was taking her advice and, in doing so, drawing on the very edges of the Dark.”

Cody shakes his head. “That’s not Riska’s fault. I feel like you're jumping at shadows. Anakin oughta be old enough he can learn what works for him without you running over to scold him like you’re his buir.”

“You don’t know anywhere near enough about the Jedi to make that kind of statement,” Obi-Wan says, light, starting to turn away, and Cody shifts, narrowing his eyes.

“Excuse me?” He wants to laugh again, humorless, but he stifles the impulse. “What kind of bullshit excuse is that? Is that how you always get out of uncomfortable conversations or are you just feeling extra high and mighty today?”

“It’s not some ‘bullshit excuse.’” Obi-Wan’s voice is hard-edged and sarcastic. “It’s a simple fact. Before you make statements about things you have no real knowledge of, maybe you should learn what they feel like first.”

Abruptly, Cody just feels horribly small, and loses track of his train of thought to a confused, chaotic mess of his own frustration. He’s angry, he knows that, but he can’t quite remember why, and there’s something pressing on him, making adrenaline flood his veins, and he shivers. Everything feels muffled, cut off, so it’s just emotions, loud, and he only knows he’s angry and small and-

The pressure suddenly releases, and Cody realizes he’s pressed a hand to his forehead. Shaken, he looks at Obi-Wan and sees his riduur looks resolute, satisfied, and unaffected, and Cody swears.

“What the kriff,” he snarls, trying to ignore a tiny knot of fear in his chest, “was that?”

“That is the Dark, Cody,” Obi-Wan says, crossing his arms, eyes flashing. “It’s not a game, it’s not some philosophical idea, and it’s very, very dangerous.”

Cody doesn’t care what point Obi-Wan was trying to make. The long and short of it appears to be that Obi-Wan just kriffed around with his emotions just so he could say he was right, and that’s too much. “Where the hells do you get off?” Cody asks, low and sharp, containing himself with an effort. “Who do you think you are, anyway?”

"Is changing the subject how you always get out of difficult conversations?" Obi-Wan mimics, and Cody laughs dryly.

"Oh, I'm not," he says, flat. "What makes you think it's okay to mess with my head?"

"I didn't mess with anything," Obi snaps. "That was just a projection of what the Dark felt like the last time I fought a Sith Lord."

"I'm not one of your students," Cody says, fierce, not quite sure why he's so angry, just that he's tired of excuses. "What'd you want to do, force me to agree with you?"

Obi stares at him a moment, offense and surprise in his bright blue eyes. "I would never," he says. "No Jedi would. But if you're going to argue about the mysteries of the Force, you need to know just what you're talking about."

"I don't want to argue about your gods-damned 'mysteries of the Force,'" Cody hisses. "For kriff's sake, is that all you know how to think about?"

"I suppose so, in the same way that all Mandalorians think about is who you're going to fight next," Obi says, derisive and sharp, looking away, and Cody drops his hand to his sides and holds them out palm up, a bit helplessly.

"If you don't wanna be here, why don't you just kriffing leave, then," he says, his chest hurting a little. It's not as if he needs Obi, and they'd both be better off if Obi just went back to the Jedi like he clearly wants to.

Obi-Wan takes a step towards him, the fierce look in his eyes making the move almost threatening. Cody squares his jaw a little and doesn't back down.

"Of course I kriffing want to be here," Obi says, voice heated, "you- mir'osik!" Before Cody can even be offended, Obi's curled a hand in his collar and is leaning up and kissing him, hard. And Cody still shouldn't but he can't help kissing Obi back, sliding his fingers into soft copper hair and hanging on for dear life.

Of course, in a moment, Obi-Wan pulls away, wide-eyed, and Cody knows it's coming, but the look of surprise and regret still stings. "I- I don't know why I did that, I'm sorry," he says, sounding a little small, and Cody smiles tightly.

"There you go messing with my head again, Obi," he says, tersely. He smooths his jacket a little and shakes his head. "Don't worry about it, I understand."

~~~

Obi-Wan feels sick.

All the anger, the frustration, is gone, drained away in an instant, and he closes his eyes briefly, tries to swallow down all the- the want and the regret and the pain and sorrow, a whole mess of emotions. Who knew one kiss could cause so much feeling?

“I’m sorry,” he reiterates, because he is. He knows, a little, of how much it will hurt and frustrate Cody, the kiss when Obi-Wan can’t, can’t do anything more, because no matter how much he wants to, attachment is forbidden. So he can’t. And he hadn’t meant to kiss Cody, he’d just been- emotional, he’d let his emotions control him instead of the other way around, and now he understands why that’s so dangerous.

He hadn’t realized, really, just how much he- how much he’s let himself feel for Cody.

Force, he’s an idiot.

How can he lecture Anakin about being mindful of his feelings when he just- lets his own run away with him?

The worst part, he thinks, is that he doesn’t even want to release these emotions, he doesn’t want to slip into calm professionalism, into detachment. Because he feels more like himself when he’s with Cody than he’s ever felt before, because something in him craves that warmth and softness, the light in Cody’s eyes when he’s happy, because the Force sings when it’s just the two of them together.

But he can’t let himself.

So.

He finds, irrationally, that he wants to cry.

“Again, it’s alright,” Cody says, waving a hand, like it’s no big deal, but Obi-Wan can feel how much of a big deal it really is, and Force but it aches. “I’m sorry I started an argument. I actually have to go talk to Rex about some of the guard shifts, so if you don’t mind excusing me…”

He hasn’t sounded like this since the first week they spoke, serious and professional and- like they’re nothing more than two people who know each other through a job. Obi-Wan knows that’s for the best, it’ll make things easier, but kriffing hells, it burns, and suddenly he can’t quite swallow, something in his chest and throat gone tight and aching.

“Of course,” he says, neutrally. “I should go check on Anakin.” He inclines his head in a not-quite-bow, turns on his heel and strides quickly away, tries not to feel like he’s running.

Anakin is one of the last people he can talk to right now, but that’s entirely beside the point.

It just- it hurts.

Obi-Wan barely makes it to his rooms before the tears come, and then he sits cross-legged on his bed with his face in his hands and cries and wishes that Qui-Gon was here, because his old Master is the only one Obi-Wan knows he could’ve talked to, about all this mess, and not gotten an answer twisted up with layers of Code and rebuke.

He hasn’t cried like this, he thinks, since his Master died. In some twisted way, he supposes it’s fitting.

~~~

Rex finds Cody in the kitchen, sitting out of the way of the cooks at a low table with a cup of whiskey between his hands and a suspiciously red, tired face. Rex isn’t really surprised - just a bit ago he’d gotten a comm from Riska, who told him she’d overheard parts of what sounded like a bad argument between Cody and Kenobi. She also admitted to a little spying, which resulted, apparently, in her seeing Cody and Kenobi kissing. Rex had thought she was probably kidding him, but she didn’t sound as excited as she should have, and anyway, that sounds like the kind of stupid thing Cody would do.

So finding his ori’vod drinking and apparently having just finished crying doesn’t end up being much of a shock.

Rex drags a stool over to the table and sits down, rapping his knuckles on the wooden tabletop with a small, wry smile. “I take it your day’s not going so well,” he says.

Cody snorts. “It’s fekking shitty, thanks for asking.” He gives Rex a small smile, clearly worn out, and Rex makes a noncommittal noise.

“Next time you and your riduur fight, you shouldn’t do it in the gardens right by the training grounds, Codes,” he points out, and Cody winces. “Riska commed me.”

“How much did she overhear?”

“A lot, apparently. And she says you kissed Kenobi.”

Cody drops his head into his hands with a muttered curse, which is enough confirmation on its own. “Great. Just what I needed.”

“Why did you kiss him?” Rex asks, somewhat incredulous - Cody’s stupid sometimes but he should know better than that, at least. They’ve talked about this before, and they both know Kenobi wouldn’t be interested.

“I didn’t. Exactly.” Cody swears again and shakes his head. “The dumbass kissed me.”

“Oh,” Rex says, slowly, thinking. “And that… is not a good thing?”

Cody still doesn’t look up. “No. ‘Cause then he apologized.”

“Ah,” Rex says. “Damn, Codes, that’s shitty.”

Cody nods.

Rex likes Kenobi, most of the time. He doesn’t even mind that he’s a jetii. But at the moment, he wants to go find the man and shake him. And tell him exactly what he thinks of this banthashit, and where he can shove his apparent apology, because even though Cody hasn’t actually admitted it, Rex is pretty sure Cody might love Kenobi. Which is a whole other problem. So what the hells can Kenobi have been thinking?

“I’m going to punch him,” he says, helpfully.

“Rex, don’t be like that.” Cody looks up, takes a sip of his whiskey. “I really don’t think he meant to.”

“Is that supposed to be better?”

“I don’t know.” Cody shrugs, smiling tightly, and Rex scowls. Political or not, Cody’s riduur shouldn’t be making him upset like this. The whole point of riduure is to be on each other’s side, and all Kenobi can seem to do is lead Cody on.

Rex says, “I’m going to yell at him.”

“No, you’re not,” Cody answers, predictably, and so of course Rex won’t. Although he wants to - he wants to tell Kenobi doesn’t he know how much Cody’s stuck his neck out for him, letting a jetii stick around; doesn’t he know how much Cody likes him and how even Boba wants his approval; doesn’t he know he’s kriffing hurting Cody? But Rex knows Cody would hate for him to make a scene, and hate for Rex to give Kenobi the idea that Cody’s not fine, because gods forbid Cody ever disappoint anybody.

Still, it’s hard not to. It’s hard not to drag Kenobi aside at their next advisory meeting, when they’re updating Rex on Bo-Katan’s latest intel and asking for his input, because Cody’s not sitting next to Kenobi like he usually does, and he’s exercising that politician-cold friendliness that Rex thinks he usually reserves for the clan representatives or visitors from other worlds.

Kenobi himself had begun to seem so familiar with all of them that even Rex is jarred by a returned layer of stiffness and formality when he talks and interacts - and it’s most uncomfortable because while he’s still more friendly with Rex himself and Riska and the others, all he seems to direct towards Cody is a disinterested friendliness. Rex could kriffing strangle him, him and his smiling, unconcerned face. Of course, Cody doesn’t look particularly affected either, so who’s to say what Kenobi’s thinking?

Still, Rex wouldn’t put money on his being terribly sad. He’s a jetii, and even if he’s a good sort of jetii, they have all kinds of rules about emotions.

Once, though, Rex walks in on the tail end of a conversation Anakin’s having with Riska, and Anakin’s telling her he thinks Kenobi is really upset, so Anakin probably knows what he’s talking about. And Boba, oddly, seems to agree - after lunch one day (that’s another thing, Kenobi has stopped coming to their family lunches so often), he pulls Rex aside and says, a bit sheepish, “Cody and Obi-Wan seem upset.”

“Yeah,” Rex says, tiredly. “I guess they argued, vod’ika.”

“I don’t get it.” Boba crosses his arms. “What are they making such a big deal over? It’s krif- really depressing.”

Rex shrugs. “Hells, I don’t know. If they don’t work it out I might punch Kenobi.”

“I wanna punch him first,” Boba says, and Rex has to backpedal to explain that he’s not giving Boba permission to punch people just because he’s frustrated with them. Although damn if Rex doesn’t want to do that himself.

He’d just like better for his ori’vod than a bunch of bullshit excuses from his own riduur - Cody’s got enough problems as it is (problems which are partly Kenobi’s fault, too, although yes Rex knows that Pre would have left anyway and yes he knows it’s petty to blame that on Kenobi). Rex keeps a concerned eye on Cody and a baleful eye on Kenobi and tries not to butt in where he isn’t wanted.

He does anyway once, though. By mistake, just a little. Rex’s sleep schedule is a little erratic, because sure, he’s the Duke’s brother, but he tries to be on the watch schedule and be available if there are incidents to be dealt with. That usually just means that he can’t always sleep well, though, so more often than not he goes to the cellar or the library to eat a bit and read. Tonight, then, he heads into the library, intending to look for something interesting to read, and accidentally finds Kenobi there instead. The jetii is apparently looking at a starmap, chin on his hand, and Rex isn’t keen to talk to him as it is, but then he realizes Kenobi’s shoulders are hunched in and he’s got tears on his cheeks.

Rex leaves the library very fast.

Maybe Kenobi’s more upset about all this than Rex thought. That doesn’t really make things better, though, it just confuses Rex - if it’s hurting Kenobi too, why can’t they work it out? He keeps that opinion to himself, too. It’s not his job to kick Kenobi’s recalcitrant ass into gear, and if Cody doesn’t want to talk to him either, that’s fine. Rex figures he can just complain with Boba until they get their shit together.

Still, he doesn’t like it.

~~~

Anakin figures, in a sense, that he shouldn’t be surprised by all of this.

He’d figured out that his Master was very attached to Cody pretty early on, probably way before Obi-Wan did - Anakin’s always been better at that kind of thing. The emotions. Not that Obi-Wan’s unemotional, because actually he seems to be a lot more like Anakin himself than the stuffy, uptight beings that compose the Jedi High Council - he’s just really, really good at releasing his emotions to the Force.

Anakin tries, he does, but that’s not how his mom taught him to feel, and he doesn’t really see the point in it. And Riska certainly doesn’t release her emotions to anything and she’s not Dark or wrong or whatever it is Obi-Wan’s worried about. Sure, Anakin understands his Master’s point - channeling his anger can lead to the Dark Side, he knows that, they’ve been telling him he’s too close to the Dark Side since he was karking nine - but he doesn’t really think Obi-Wan’s right, this time.

In any case, Anakin’s known for certain that Obi-Wan was attached to Cody since probably before the Festival incident (there’ve been hints of it almost since the wedding). So he’s not surprised to hear about the kiss. Frustrated, yes, to hear about and witness firsthand the aftermath, but not surprised.

And he’s damned irritated he had to hear it from Riska.

Obi-Wan doesn’t seem to want Anakin to know about the whole mess, though, which Anakin doesn’t understand. His Master is like… a father and a brother to him, all in one, and Obi-Wan can tell him anything. Anakin wouldn’t tell anyone that his Master is struggling with the attachment part of the Code (though it’s definitely a novel idea - Anakin hadn’t ever expected Obi-Wan “Perfect Jedi” Kenobi to struggle with anything, much less one of the biggest things Anakin himself struggles with), and since he knows his Master is hurting, he wouldn’t tease.

Much.

But Obi-Wan doesn’t talk.

So instead, Anakin hears from Riska about hearing them argue, about seeing them kiss, and he guesses from the way his Master is acting now, all polite and professional like this is just another diplomatic mission, that Obi-Wan regrets it. (Which is stupid, because clearly they’re both interested in each other, and from what Anakin can feel across the training bond he thinks Obi-Wan might love Cody. Which is insane, and also really cool.)

Instead, he has to talk to Riska about how Obi-Wan’s felt wrong, felt tired and sad and frustrated, about how Anakin has no idea how to help.

Obi-Wan might pretend to everyone, even to Anakin, that he’s alright, but Anakin knows him well enough to know it’s a lie.

Life goes on. Obi-Wan never says it, but Anakin can tell he appreciates the fact that as time passes, they get more missions for the Council, because it’s space away from the mess of things on Mandalore, it’s time to think and to relax. Obi-Wan doesn’t say this, either, but Anakin knows that keeping up the veneer of detachment and polite friendliness is hard on his Master, but that he’s committed to doing it for Cody’s sake. Kark it, his Master cares so much for Cody it’s crazy.

The first mission they get back from, Anakin’s carrying his things back to his room when he catches a snippet of thought floating across the training bond: no plants…

Master? he nudges, confused.

It’s nothing, Anakin, Obi-Wan says back. But Anakin’s heard enough to put the pieces together, and he doesn’t like what he thinks.

No more plants.

He’s noticed, of course he has, that whenever he goes into Obi-Wan’s rooms there seem to be more plants and little flowers accumulating, and he’d figured out from Obi-Wan that it’s courtesy of Cody. So this must mean that Cody’s stopped giving Obi-Wan plants.

Anakin wants to shake him. Doesn’t he understand how much that means to Obi-Wan?

The only thing that doesn’t change completely is the sparring. Cody and Obi-Wan still practice, although it’s no longer a daily event. Some days Cody spars with Anakin instead, and Anakin’s sure he should’ve expected it, given how closely matched Cody is with his Master, but it’s still annoying that Cody wins every time. By a lot, usually.

Life keeps going. Things settle into a sort-of routine, a new one, in which Obi-Wan and Cody are upset and hardly talk to each other, and Anakin plots with Boba and tries to come up with pranks that’ll make their brothers smile. (The first time Boba calls Obi-Wan Anakin’s brother, he almost falls over in his haste to correct, thinks maybe he just mis-translated - he’s still learning Mando’a, after all - but he thinks that in a sense, Boba’s right.)

For fun, they prank Rex too.

The only thing off-limits to them, Anakin tells Boba, is Obi-Wan’s plants.

That’s a rule they can work with, Boba agrees, and so they get to work.

And sometimes, sometimes, they even succeed.

Chapter Text

22 BBY

Mandalore has never been part of the Galactic Republic. The clans can barely manage to get along with each other, much less with an entire galaxy, and Cody and his advisors certainly don’t feel the need to accept the regulation and oversight of some disinterested, long-corrupt Senate. Still, the news that hundreds of previously-Republic systems have seceded to form what’s being called the Confederacy of Independent Systems has rocked the entire galaxy.

So far, it seems to have been a peaceful split - more than most of Mandalorian history could claim - but the fact is that the Confederacy has been making a great many statements about the corruption of the Republic’s Senate, most especially Count Dooku of Serenno, who was apparently a Jedi at one time and, at least so Jak tells Cody, involved in the massacre at Galidraan. So far, it sounds as if the Count has refused to negotiate with the Republic, and most of the other worlds are supposedly refusing to accept envoys, either. While none of this affects Mandalore, thus far, Cody doesn’t like how tense everything has become. It feels as if the whole galaxy is balanced on the edge - this could all turn out alright, and simply mean there’s a new government to be aware of, or it could result in conflict.

Cody knows what he’d put his money on, but then, he’s Mandalorian. He tends to see a fight around every corner as it is.

Unfortunately, Obi-Wan seems to agree with him too.

Cody’s walking with him and Ruusaan after one of their meetings, discussing the issue. The Jedi are, naturally, staying with the Republic, as they’ve always sort of served as the Republic’s peacekeepers. Cody has not, however, heard much of Obi-Wan’s personal opinion on the problem. Given that Obi-Wan’s not talking to him.

“I am not so concerned about the political reasoning, quite frankly,” Ruusaan admits, smoothly, hands folded behind her back. “In fact, political tension and machinations, or even a few outlying skirmishes have nothing to do with us. But if there is anything approaching a proper war, I don’t know how the two sides would respond or how they would proceed, and I don’t like that. We have too little information on the military aspect of the matter, and too much about the politics.”

“I’d hope the Senate would know better than to rely on the Jedi to be their army,” Cody says, mildly, considering, “but the Republic doesn’t actually have fighting forces. They’d have to resort to mercenaries, or maybe recruiting the armies of their member systems, although that’s risky. And the Confederacy doesn’t even have the option of hiring out an army, they can’t possibly have those types of funds yet. Still, with all the tension… I feel like we’re going to see conflicts. Maybe not a war, though, Ruusaan, they don’t seem to have the resources for something of that scale.”

Ruusaan makes a noncommittal noise. “But we don’t know that, really. There are both galaxy-wide entities, so we have too little information on what kind of military power they have access to.”

“The Jedi cannot be an army,” Obi-Wan says, shaking his head. “There are too few of us, and to be honest we should not be fighting a war. No matter how politically entangled the Order and the Senate have become, we aren’t soldiers.”

“Yet I’m sure if there was a fight, you’d be asked to be involved,” Ruusaan says, arching an eyebrow. “And I admit I’m concerned the Senate would try to say we’d have a responsibility to help, if they needed verde, because of your marriage.” The look Ruusaan gives Cody is very tired, and he’s pretty sure she’s long been fed up with his and Obi-Wan’s awkwardness. Cody doesn’t think there’s much he can do about it, so he ignores her.

“I’m sure,” Obi-Wan says, tiredly, rubbing his beard. “However, Ruusaan, you can rest assured that the Jedi will not drag Mandalore into a conflict that doesn’t involve you.”

“For once it’s not the Jedi I’m worried about.” Ruusaan smooths the skirt of the red dress she’s wearing and shakes her head, stopping where she is. Cody and Obi-Wan, of course, to be polite, stop with her. “I would like our system to be left out of the matter altogether - and I’m certain you both agree - but people do like having Mandalore’s backing.” She smiles slightly at Obi-Wan, who nods in response with an acknowledging smile of his own. “Excuse me, you two. I’d planned to meet Jak this afternoon.”

“Of course, Ruusaan.” Cody inclines his head, respectfully, and his advisor shakes her head again, wryly, shoots a look at Obi-Wan, and marches away down a separate hallway.

Cody wishes she wouldn’t do that. Because now it’s just him and Obi-Wan by themselves, which is a situation he’s been trying to avoid, lately. He shifts a bit, and then, without really saying anything, they resume walking.

It’s hard not to fidget. Cody manages not to anyway.

After a moment, Obi-Wan says, “Anakin and I have to leave again.”

“Oh?” Cody glances at him, quickly. “What is it this time?”

“We’re being called back to Coruscant to escort a Senator who’s been the target of assassination attempts,” Obi says, sounding weary. “Anakin and I have worked with her before, that’s why the Council is sending us.”

“Which senator?” Cody asks, to be polite, more than anything.

“Padme Amidala, from Naboo. She was queen of Naboo back during the Trade Federation’s invasion - my Master and I were assigned to protect her then as well.”

Cody likes Obi-Wan’s voice.

He hasn’t met many Senators, and he hasn’t met Senator Amidala, but he has seen her in the HoloNews. She’s one of the better sort, from what he can tell. “Well, I certainly hope you both don’t get her assassinated,” he jokes, wryly.

Obi-Wan smiles slightly. “That would be rather counterproductive, Cody,” he says, and Cody shrugs.

“Isn’t counterproductive Anakin’s middle name?”

“Sometimes I wonder,” Obi answers, chuckling a bit, and Cody smiles.

Then it’s just quiet again, until Cody, after trying to work out what to say, sighs and asks, “So who’s trying to assassinate Senator Amidala?”

“No idea,” Obi-Wan says, and Cody raises an eyebrow, interested. “A bounty hunter, we assume - her ship was bombed and her security decoy was killed. No one caught any sight of the attacker, apparently.”

“A good clean job,” Cody says, nodding.

Obi sighs. “Indeed. We’re definitely dealing with a professional, here - I must admit, I’m curious who it is.” Well, of course he is, Cody assumes they’ll need to learn who the bounty hunter is so that Senator Amidala isn’t shot. “Do you think your father would have any ideas?”

Cody snorts. “Probably, although he also probably wouldn’t be eager to share them. I don’t think he likes to piss off colleagues.” No use pissing off people who get paid to be good with their blasters. “Still, I could try to contact him, if you don’t have any luck - he’s been on a couple jobs for a few months so communication is a little sporadic.”

“I’d appreciate it.” Obi-Wan nods, too polite. “I’ll let you know how things go - hopefully this won’t take too long. I’m not a fan of being gone for a while, with how unstable everything is right now.”

Cody doesn’t want him to be gone long, either. “That will be helpful,” he says. “Thank you.”

Obi’s quiet for a second, and when Cody glances at him he sees that Obi-Wan is watching him, eyes soft. “Cody-” he starts, quietly, and Cody wants to stop and ask him what, what is it. He doesn’t, though, and Obi-Wan’s eyes go distant again. “You’re welcome.”

Cody smiles a little, looks away, and gives up on the conversation. Gods, he just wants things to go back to how they were before, but between the fight and the- kiss, he doesn’t think they can. Not with both of them trying to make sure there’s no more mistakes made like the last one. But he just- he’s starting to think this is a pattern of his, wanting what he can’t have, because he wants anything but all this pretending, but really he wants Obi-Wan. So much that sometimes it still hurts.

But there’s nothing he can do about that. As usual. So he just keeps stealing quiet looks at Obi-Wan and tries not to mind that their family lunches still feel off without him and tells Boba that he’s sure they’ll work it out. (Boba’s gotten so impatient with the situation that Cody ended up explaining the very basics of the problem to him. He wasn’t impressed.) And maybe they will. But it’s been long enough that Cody’s beginning to think it’s just a lost cause.

Sometimes he thinks Obi-Wan should just leave, for all the good this is doing them.

But- Obi said he didn’t want to. So that’s where they seem to have left it. It’s better than nothing, Cody keeps telling himself. Better than nothing.

~~~

Padme is just as strong and determined of a woman as Obi-Wan had remembered her, he finds when he and Anakin meet up with her on Coruscant. He tries to ignore Anakin’s fumbling attempts at flirting (you’re even more beautiful than I’d remembered, he’d said when they first saw Padme again, and Obi-Wan doesn’t know if he should be upset or grateful that it seems Riska’s flirting lessons have somewhat paid off), expresses his displeasure at the idea of using the Senator as bait in a trap, and keeps his mind from wandering off to thoughts about Cody - mostly. He just…

He misses Cody. In so many more ways than one. But he has to keep this detachment, because it’s the only thing he can do to make this easier on Cody.

So no family lunches, no quietly companionable evenings in the library, no deep heart-to-heart discussions, no relaxed and lighthearted teasing, no affectionate touches.

It shouldn’t hurt as much as it does. It’s been six months, this is his normal, now, and yet- it still aches, the lack of everything he wants so much.

He shakes his head to clear it and focuses on the Force. Padme’s life is at stake, right now, this is hardly the time for him to be ruminating over his mistakes.

The sequence of events that follows is definitely not one Obi-Wan wants Anakin recounting to Cody (or, Force forbid, Boba), but it at least ends with Obi-Wan at Dex’s, the Besalisk informing him that the poisoned saberdart used to kill the bounty hunter (apparently not the one Obi-Wan’s after, and that speaks volumes about their skill) is Kaminoan technology.

Obi-Wan’s never even heard of Kamino, but he takes the name back to the Temple, to Yoda and the younglings, and he marks down the coordinates they show him.

On his way to this planet of apparent cloners, he gets a comm from Cody - Jango is apparently being quite cagey about this particular bounty, says that yes, he knows who took it, and that if Obi-Wan is smart, he’ll leave this alone. Unfortunately, Obi-Wan can’t exactly do that - he thanks Cody for the attempt anyway, sighs tiredly, and stares at the stars streaking by the transparisteel cockpit.

He can’t wait for this all to be over. Maybe, when it is- He shouldn’t wish, but maybe he can try to mend something with Cody, to salvage something out of the ashes of everything. He misses Cody too much to keep up this dance.

Of course, then he’s welcomed quite warmly by the Kaminoans - he’s expected, apparently, and he has to pull on all his considerable political skills to hide his confusion. He doesn’t expect he would succeed, even so, if it weren’t for the Kaminoans’ apparent unfamiliarity with Human expression.

Which is… odd, considering what Obi-Wan finds.

An army of very, very familiar looking… clones.

Oh, Jango, he thinks, to himself, what are you up to? This must be the personal project Cody’s mentioned a few times, but what could be the point of it? An army… for the Jedi?

He remembers his and Cody’s and Ruusaan’s discussion a few days ago with sickening clarity. The Jedi cannot be an army. There are too few of us.

Yet I’m sure if there was a fight, you’d be asked to be involved.

It’s too convenient, a solution for the problem of not enough Jedi. Obi-Wan doesn’t like it.

There’s a stilted, awkward conversation with Jango; Obi-Wan has a sinking suspicion that Jango himself is the bounty hunter he’s been searching for and been ordered to capture. Really, this is a mission another Jedi should’ve been assigned, but of course no one would’ve thought about Jango Fett when the assassination attempts began.

The most interesting part of the entire conversation is when Jango slips casually into Mando’a to inform Obi-Wan that he may perhaps want to plant a tracker on his ship. Since that seems to be the closest Jango can get to explaining what’s actually going on, Obi-Wan decides to listen to his father-in-law (odd, that).

He tails Jango to his ship, plants a tracker on the outside, and hurries back to his A-wing to follow the signal. The Force feels… tense, like it’s holding its breath (as if it could), like everything’s hovering on the edge of a precipice.

Obi-Wan doesn’t like any of this.

He had hardly expected to be skulking around a factory on Geonosis that’s clearly mass-producing Trade Federation battle droids, nor had he expected to be discovered, taken captive, and to come face to face with his grandmaster - Dooku has aged well, from all appearances, but his assertion that there’s a Sith leading the Senate seems too far-fetched to be true. They know the Sith Master is in the Senate somewhere, but in charge? All positions at that level of power are far too public to hide in.

Things move very fast, after that, and suddenly Obi-Wan’s chained to a pole in a Geonosian sport arena, Anakin and Padme joining him - of course they came to investigate. And then Jango’s stepping out at Dooku’s side, there are three very large beasts attacking, everyone’s cheering-

The Jedi arrive.

Obi-Wan doesn’t even have time to make it to Jango before Mace is fighting him, and Obi-Wan is too far away but he still tries to get there in time, to stop the fight before Mace’s lightsaber separates Jango’s head from his body.

He’s too late.

Obi-Wan blocks blasterfire out of habit and tries not to think of what he’ll tell Cody.

The clone army arrives, led by Master Yoda. They fight, and they win, although Dooku escapes and Anakin loses part of his arm.

And just like that, the galaxy is at war.

And Obi-Wan has three days to go to Mandalore, get his affairs in order, and say his goodbyes.

~~~

It's all over the holonews in the course of an evening and the next morning. Jedi Knight Kenobi, Senator Amidala, and Padawan Skywalker captured by Count Dooku and nearly executed. Dozens of other Jedi killed in an ensuing rescue attempt, the Confederacy revealing an army of droids and the Jedi being saved by an army that the HoloNet doesn't even seem to be able to give an origin to. The pictures show Humans in full white plastoid armor that's somewhat similar to Mandalorian armor, and the articles say there are thousands of them.

There was a full-scale battle between these soldiers and the Confederacy's droids. The Jedi fought with the soldiers. Everyone has slightly different accounts of how that went, but the long and short of it is that the galaxy is at war and the Jedi are at the center of it.

There are only two articles that bother to mention his father, and that's how he learns. Because two reporters remember to mention the death of Jango Fett, call him a renowned bounty hunter and a Separatist sympathizer.

Killed.

Rex finds out on his own, comes to find Cody, and latches onto him for dear life with a hug, burying his face in Cody's shoulder. Cody just feels frozen, but he hugs Rex back and hopes the HoloNews is wrong, hopes they somehow made a mistake.

Then, together, they try to tell Boba. Rex is crying, quiet, so it's Cody who chokes past a lump in his throat to tell Boba what they've learned, that their buir is gone. Really gone.

Boba stares at them, disbelieving, for a long minute. Then, angry and small, he starts crying, hard, and looks like he wants to storm away. Cody pulls him close instead, hugs his little brother until Boba slumps against him and starts bawling in earnest. "I hate them," he says, muffled, and Cody just rubs his back and ignores the tears that are threatening to spill down his own cheeks. "I hate them, why'd they have to kill him, Codes?"

"I don't know." Cody shakes his head and swipes roughly at his eyes. "I don't know, Boba."

Boba ends up shoving away from him and running off to be by himself.

Cody hugs Rex again, feeling like if he doesn't it'll ache too much.

Obi-Wan hasn't contacted him, at all.

And Cody knows that if Obi-Wan were dead or injured, the HoloNews would say it, but the news is all mixed up and no one seems to know what's going on, so maybe- maybe someone missed something.

Maybe Obi-Wan's just busy.

Well, Cody's buir is- dead, and Cody just wants to know that Obi-Wan tried. That he tried to help, that at least someone was helping his buir.

Part of him thinks maybe Obi will tell him it was just a hoax, a misidentification. That Jango is alright after all, and Boba can hate Cody forever for being wrong.

But more news reports say it, and they say that the new army, some 200,000 Human men, is made up of clones of Jango Fett. An army for the Republic, they're calling it.

His buir stays dead, and Obi-Wan doesn't comm.

Cody does damage control. They have a meeting to discuss how to handle the new crisis, and everyone's subdued. Everyone tells Cody they're sorry, asks him if he wants to say a remembrance yet. Cody shakes his head and they let the subject drop.

When he was little, Jango told him that he hoped Cody never had any names to say for his remembrances. "That's what I want for you, ad. The end of these wars so your remembrances aren't as long as mine." And then he taught Cody the ritual of it. I remember you, so you are eternal.

Some of Cody's friends used to add not gone, merely marching far away, but that isn't true.

His buir is gone. And in his absence, the whole galaxy is going to war.

Cody knows he’ll be asked to take sides. And although he hasn’t discussed it with his advisors yet, much less the clan representatives, he knows already that he will not be part of the war.

Obi-Wan doesn't comm, but he does come back, with Anakin. Anakin has a new metal hand, and Obi-Wan’s limping and looks impossibly weary. Cody goes to meet them, alone - Rex says he doesn't think he can handle either of them, yet.

Cody wants Obi-Wan to tell him it's going to be okay. He wants them to stop fighting, he wants to fix things. They have a funeral to organize, and a crisis to deal with on behalf of their planets, and Cody just wants to be able to hold onto Obi-Wan because he knows Obi-Wan will understand.

So he nods at Anakin, polite, and turns his attention to Obi-Wan. Please tell me we'll work this out. "Welcome back, Obi."

“I’m sorry about Jango,” Obi-Wan says, heavily, and Cody swallows. “I couldn’t get to him in time.”

“You tried, though?” Cody asks, and doesn’t like how his own voice sounds brittle. He shakes his head, because he’s not asking for any reason, really, he just wants to confirm it, that someone there at least cared. It’s hard not to feel like he should’ve been there, although there would have been no way for him to have been.

“Yeah,” Obi-Wan says, a bit hoarse. “I tried.”

Cody nods, tightly, but then Obi-Wan steps forward and puts his arms around him in a tight hug, and Cody can’t help but slump a little, putting his own arms around Obi’s shoulders and holding on. Obi feels safe, and for a minute everything feels a little easier.

Cody can’t quite make himself let go as soon as he should, and it doesn’t seem like Obi wants to either. Still, though, after a second, Cody makes himself step back and nods slightly at Anakin’s hand, raising an eyebrow. “What happened to you two, anyway?” he asks, trying to be light.

“Count Dooku is a Sith Lord,” Obi-Wan says, which is… a twist, to be sure, “and Anakin’s not good at Jar’kai.”

“Well, I wouldn’t have had to be good at Jar’kai if you hadn’t gotten yourself stabbed,” Anakin says, peeved.

Cody smiles slightly and shakes his head. “Sorry about that, Anakin. Why don’t you two come inside - unfortunately I’m not sure you’ll get much of a chance to settle in, we’re- in the middle of things, right now.” He rubs his forehead a little, sighing. They’ve sent a team to see if they can recover his buir’s body, but with the chaos… he’s not optimistic. He thinks some of his people will see this as a reason to join the war against the Republic, since the Jedi killed their Mand’alor, but Cody doesn’t intend to let that idea gain more ground than it has to.

“Cody…” Obi-Wan looks tired, unhappy, and he sighs heavily. “I only have three days.”

Cody had half turned, to go back inside - with a sinking feeling in his stomach, he faces Obi-Wan again, curling just one hand into a fist so he doesn’t pick at his fingers. “What do you mean?” he asks, careful.

“I was given three days to come back, get everything in order, and… say goodbyes.” Cody can’t move. Three fekking days? “Anakin and I are both expected to be a part of this war, Cody, this wasn’t something I could choose. They’ve already assigned me a battalion of the new clone army.”

Cody doesn’t even know where to start with that. “What happened to ‘the Jedi aren’t soldiers’?” he asks.

Obi-Wan flinches, just barely. “The Senate. And the Sith.”

Cody shifts a little, trying to understand what all Obi-Wan’s saying. He didn’t see anything about this in the HoloNews, so he thought- Gods, he should’ve expected. “I don’t understand, what do you mean you didn’t get a choice?”

Obi-Wan sighs. “The Senate has called on the Jedi to restore peace. Our beloved Chancellor is refusing to let the Separatist worlds secede peacefully. There are not enough Jedi able to lead.” Cody’s not sure what part of that’s meant to sound like no choice. “And besides,” Obi adds, “I’m sure the Senate wouldn’t take well to a Jedi simply refusing to fight - I wouldn’t be surprised if those of us who don’t are called traitors and Separatist sympathizers.”

So Obi-Wan is leaving to fight a war for fear of public relations problems. Cody looks at him for a second, still not even totally sure what he’s meant to say. “Couldn’t you explain that as a member of the government of a system that’s uninvolved in the war, you shouldn’t be expected to take sides in it yourself?”

“Remember the part where my position as a Jedi didn’t affect the marriage?” Obi says, dryly. What the kriff is that supposed to mean, this seems like a slightly bigger deal than a couple of Jedi missions and a bunch of complicated philosophy. “Besides,” Obi-Wan adds, “when the Council agreed to this, they explicitly demanded that this not supersede my loyalty to the Order.”

Cody supposes he’d forgotten that just because his priority is family, that didn’t mean Obi-Wan would be the same.

Anakin, who seems incredibly uncomfortable, sticks his hand up slightly and gestures at himself. “Has no one noticed the fact that I’m a Knight now?”

Cody looks away from Obi-Wan, forces a complimentary smile. “Not bad, Anakin,” he says, lightly, then shakes his head and turns around to go inside. “Even if you aren’t staying, I expect neither of you were planning on sitting out here the entire time.”

Obi-Wan and Anakin follow him, and Obi-Wan asks, “Tell me what I can do to help while I’m here?”

Cody shakes his head a little and bites back an unfair answer. “I’m sure the advisors would appreciate your input. And I’d personally like some more information on this… army that’s appeared out of nowhere.” Out of his buir’s personal project, apparently. Cody’s not sure what this means for Jango’s legacy.

“Of course,” Obi-Wan says, with a nod, and Cody tucks his hands behind his back. “I’ll explain everything once everyone’s together.”

Cody nods. He doesn’t really trust himself to say anything.

~~~

While Obi-Wan goes with Cody and waits for the advisors to gather, trying not to limp too badly on his injured leg - it’s been treated and bandaged, but it’s sore and will be for a while, he thinks - Anakin begs off the meeting, saying he wants to find Boba. Obi-Wan isn’t certain that’s the best idea, given Jango’s recent loss, but he’s not about to argue with his no-longer-padawan.

Anakin can make his own decisions now, and if he wants to risk getting yelled at or punched by the youngest Fett, then that’s his choice.

For once, even Riska arrives on time. The atmosphere in the conference room is subdued and somber; half the advisors have black painted across a good portion of their armor, fresh and unfaded. For grief and mourning, he thinks.

It’s Ursa who asks the question, when everyone, including Rex, is sitting down and quiet. “What the hells is going on out there?” Her gesture is expansive and loose, encompassing the rest of the galaxy.

“A good question,” Obi-Wan says with a heavy, tired sigh. He’s only slept a couple hours since the mess that was Geonosis. “We seem to have entered a war, with worlds having to choose between the Confederacy of Independent Systems - the Separatists - and the Republic.”

Riska, for once sitting upright with her feet on the floor, leans forward. “What’s all the news about an army of Jango clones fighting for the Jedi?” She pauses, adds, “And what happened on Geonosis? The real story, not what the news vids are saying.”

Obi-Wan rubs at his forehead. “We don’t entirely know, although the Council has made the decision to keep that a secret. It seems that some ten years ago, around the time the Sith Master first made his presence known to the Jedi, Master Sifo-Dyas foresaw that the Republic and the Jedi would need an army, and commissioned the clones from Kaminoan scientists. They wouldn’t have been discovered at all if not for my search for a bounty hunter leading me there.” Obi-Wan doesn’t mention that it seems Jango had been the bounty hunter he’d been searching for all along - it doesn’t seem relevant. “I met Jango there on accident; he suggested it’d be a good idea if I tracked his ship after he left, so I followed him to his ship and planted a tracker on it. It didn’t seem like he could explain anything to me without arousing suspicion. Unfortunately, I was unable to warn the rest of the Jedi to Jango’s intentions - I take responsibility for that failure.” He could’ve prevented Jango’s death, if only he’d- done something, mentioned Jango in his report to the Council, he’s sure of it.

He sighs, takes a deep breath, rubs a hand over his beard before continuing. “I tracked him to Geonosis, to a droid factory, and ended up being discovered by Count Dooku, though not before I managed to get a transmission out to the Council. With Anakin, Senator Amidala, and I all in danger, the Council elected to send a rescue team - some two hundred Knights and Masters, all who were in the field and available, were sent.” Obi-Wan pauses. “Only about sixteen of us survived. Dooku unleashed his new droid army, nearly massacring us all. If Master Yoda hadn’t arrived with the clone army in time…” He stops, shakes his head.

It would’ve been even more horrific.

“I’m sorry about all that loss,” Cody says, very seriously, from his position standing a short distance away, and Obi-Wan nods in acknowledgement. “I still want more information on these new armies you all have.”

“I’m not sure there’s much yet,” he answers. “The droid army looks to be similar in make to the Trade Federation’s of ten years ago. As for the clones… we don’t know much about them. And what little I do know, I don’t like. They were created for war, but despite clearly being Human, the Kaminoans seem to regard them as products, units. I haven’t had a chance to interact with any of them yet - that will come once I return to Coruscant and meet the battalion I’ve been assigned-”

“You’re leaving?” Cato Skirata says, stabbing his knife into the table almost for emphasis. “Now? Our people need you here.” That’s the closest to complimentary Cato’s ever been.

“Cato,” Cody says, sharp and flat, and the advisor subsides, leaning back in his chair again, although there’s still hard lines around his eyes.

“I don’t have much of a choice,” Obi-Wan says evenly. “The Jedi Council only allowed this marriage to happen on the condition that the Order remained my first priority - and there are, as much as I am loathe to say it, a great deal of political reasons why the Jedi cannot refuse this war. Whether we want to fight or not is, unfortunately, no longer part of anything.”

Ruusaan folds her hands together and says, simply, “It will not be good for our people’s opinion of you if you are not present for the funeral.”

Obi-Wan bows his head. “I know,” he says, quietly. “I asked for more time, given the circumstances, but I was only given three days. I’m sorry.”

“We all have our duties,” Ruusaan says, inclining her head. “It is… unfortunate that yours takes you away from Mandalore at this crucial time, but it can’t be helped.”

Somehow, her understanding makes everything feel worse.

Obi-Wan wants to stay. He doesn’t want to leave, he wants to be here for Jango’s funeral, to be here for Cody. He hadn’t wanted to let go, earlier, hadn’t wanted to pull away from Cody’s arms, because they’d felt like safety and security and the warmth he’s been missing for months, and he’d known as soon as the hug was over he’d have to tell Cody that he couldn’t stay.

The rest of the meeting goes- not smoothly, really, and Riska keeps making little barbed comments, but no one says anything too overt, and Obi-Wan explains what little he knows about the clones. They discuss a few more things, like Mandalore’s position in the upcoming war - Cody is very firm on neutrality, and Obi-Wan agrees that that’s likely the best option, especially for a world that’s never been part of the Republic before.

And the whole time, he can feel everything slipping away from him.

They’d accepted him before, when he cast aside the Jedi and made an effort to be one of them, like Cody told him to, like he- wanted to, in a way. But now he’s leaving. He’s throwing in with the Jedi and abandoning Mandalore during its time of instability and crisis, abandoning the clan they made him a part of.

He doesn’t think he’ll be welcome back, after this. Except maybe by Cody.

He and Cody leave the conference room with Ruusaan, and Obi-Wan barely has time to register Ruusaan’s voice and a scarred face before someone’s snarling, “You!” and he’s being slammed against a wall, someone’s forearm across his throat.

It’s Jak, face twisted with anger and pain and grief, and Obi-Wan forces his muscles to relax, despite the fact that he can’t get a full breath, despite the fact that this man could very easily kill him (and he wouldn’t be surprised if he tried). He won’t fight Jak. Especially not when the Mando is in so much pain.

Cody grabs Jak’s shoulder and the old warrior just shoves him away with one arm, snarls a bit. “You dare come back here, jetii?” he snaps.

“I’m sorry, Jak,” Obi-Wan says quietly, meeting Jak’s grey eye, and Jak presses his arm harder against Obi-Wan’s throat, cutting him off and making him choke a little. Kriff.

“Ne’johaa. You jetiise have done enough ruin to Mandalore-”

“Jak.” It’s Ruusaan, softer than Obi-Wan’s ever heard her before, a hand gentle on Jak’s shoulder. “Let him go. It is not his fault.”

“I tried to get to him,” Obi-Wan whispers, as best as he can with the little air he can get. “I tried.”

There’s a long moment of silence, Jak staring into Obi-Wan’s face, still, still, and then-

Ruusaan tugs a bit and Jak lets go, staggers back a little, makes a soft noise like a wounded animal. And Obi-Wan rubs at his throat and pushes carefully off the wall as Ruusaan takes Jak down the hallway, an arm around his shoulders, talking too quietly for him to make out the words.

Everything is a mess.

“Are you okay?” Cody asks, worried, though his voice is guarded and tense.

“I’m fine,” Obi-Wan answers - it’s the only answer he’s given to that question in the last few months. “He’s grieving, it’s understandable. I don’t blame him.”

“You wouldn’t,” Cody says, tired and heavy.

Obi-Wan isn’t even sure how to take that.

Cody starts walking, and Obi-Wan wants to go with him (wants to stand too close and take his hand and feel like maybe things will be okay), but he has to get things packed and he has to check on Anakin and it’s not like Cody needs him anyway, and Obi-Wan doubts he’ll do much for Cody’s image as Duke and Mand’alor anymore, so-

“I should get my things ready and find Anakin,” he says quietly. “I’ll see you later.”

And he turns, starts to go the opposite way down the hall. Has to stop, glance back over his shoulder and say, “Cody- I am so sorry.” He wishes he could just go to Cody and make things okay again, but he can’t.

But Cody looks- hurt, aching and sad and bitter, and Obi-Wan can’t quite make himself leave.

He will, in a minute, he decides - but first, he turns, hesitant, goes back and pulls Cody into another hug, despite knowing he shouldn’t, that he’s not even sure if Cody will want his comfort when he’s leaving.

“I’m sorry I can’t fix things,” he says, closing his eyes against a sudden onrush of heat behind his eyes, “and I’m sorry I- ruined things to begin with, and I’m sorry I can’t stay.”

He doesn’t even know what he’s referring to, anymore.

~~~

Cody only manages to hold himself unmoved for a second, because even though he wants to try to keep from breaking down, Obi’s apology makes something tight in his chest ease a little, and he quickly hugs Obi back, as close as he can, burying his face in Obi’s hair so maybe nobody will notice he’s starting to cry. He just wishes Obi would stay, because he doesn’t know how he’s supposed to do this, and he doesn’t know whether he’ll be able to see him at all anymore, much less get his advice. Maybe it’s better, for Obi, that they aren’t both here all the time, being tense, but-

Obi said he wanted to be here.

So for a bit, Cody just holds onto Obi-Wan and lets it hurt, for a second, that his buir is gone and Obi is leaving too and he doesn’t know what to do next. He almost wants to admit all of it at once, how he wishes they weren’t at a distance anymore, how he feels like he’s sixteen again, no more sure how to fill his buir’s shoes than he was then, how he’s scared.

He doesn’t, though. It’s enough, really, to be holding Obi and feeling for a second like they might be okay.

After a while, he feels like he’s indulged himself too much, and he begins to just feel tired, so he pulls back and rubs at his face, hard, trying to get his emotions back under control. Obi-Wan doesn’t respond, immediately, and when he does he almost looks like he’s been crying too.

Cody doesn’t comment on it. “I’m sorry about that,” he says, wryly, “I know my armor’s not what you’d call comfortable.” He tries to smile, doesn’t think he entirely manages.

Obi tries to smile too. “Don’t worry, it’s alright.”

Cody nods, then looks around and sighs. He needs to focus. “I guess- it’s almost dinner time, maybe if you don’t have anything else to do, we can go eat. Besides,” and he glances at Obi’s bandaged leg, “you should sit.”

“That would be nice,” Obi-Wan says, with a hint of a real smile, warm. Then he glances at his leg, though, and winces a bit. “And you’re right, I’m supposed to be taking it easy for the next few days.”

“And yet here you are,” Cody says dryly, starting for the kitchens, “not doing that.”

“To be fair, I’ve been a bit busy.” Obi-Wan goes with him, still smiling a little, and it’s… nearly nice. Cody doesn’t really know what to talk about, though, everything feels like a minefield.

Still, it’s good to at least be with him.

As usual, the cooks let them take their own dinners, and they go to one of the more private sitting rooms that Cody’s always liked. Cody sits down on the room’s couch and leans back with a small sigh, trying to get comfortable. Obi-Wan sits too, and for a little while they just eat in silence. Cody doesn’t want to be quiet, though, because it leaves him too much room to think, so he casts around for something safe to say. He can’t think of anything but his buir, though, and that’s what he ends up rambling about, quiet, when he’s finished his bowl full of potatoes.

“I became Duke when I was sixteen, you know,” he says, thoughtfully, picking at the edge of his bracer. “Buir said I was ready, and I was like ‘the hells I’m not.’” He laughs shortly, shakes his head. “I was scared out of my mind. He’d been having me do a lot, and I’d been taking lessons and talking to him and getting ready, and then he said he was leaving - I thought everyone would stage a coup within a week.”

“Did they?” Obi-Wan asks, sounding amused, eyes trained on Cody’s face.

Cody raises an eyebrow. “Guess,” he says. He shakes his head, rubs his chin. “Buir was only gone for a few weeks, and nothing went too wrong. He said he knew I could do it, made me sit down and have a big dinner with him and let me have some watered-down whiskey. I think everyone only listened because they expected him to kick their asses.”

“He watered down your whiskey when you were sixteen?” Obi asks, amusedly, and Cody rolls his eyes. “I’m sure they listened to you because you are a good leader.”

“It was hard liquor, Obi, and he wanted me to be responsible.” Cody shakes his head and rests his chin on his hand. “I don’t know, Mandalorians are hard to impress and I was a skinny kid that’d gotten the darksaber handed to him. A lot of people originally followed me out of respect for my buir.” Not that it’s necessarily like that anymore, but Cody still wonders a little whether he can live up to what everyone expects. And now he’s going to have to try to keep people from using his buir’s death or his involvement with the Republic’s army as excuses to drag them out of the peace that Jango actually wanted to create.

Obi-Wan nods, slowly. “When I was first Knighted, I think Anakin only trusted me because Qui-Gon told him to. It’s not the same, I know, but- I can understand some of the feeling.”

“It’s not a bad comparison,” Cody says, dry. “Sometimes everyone in this damn system is like a teenager.”

Obi-Wan laughs, properly, and Cody can’t manage the same but he does smile. “Anakin was nine when I started training him,” Obi says. “It was… an adventure.”

“Oh, I’m sure.” Cody sighs and rubs his eyes a bit, shaking his head. “I’m… not totally sure how I’m- going to do this without him.” Or without Obi, for that matter. Rex is good support, but there’s only so much Cody can ask him about.

“The same way I managed without my Master,” Obi says, soft, and when Cody looks at him he seems more relaxed and open than he has in months. “One day at a time.” Cody swallows a little and nods. He wishes it were a better answer. Obi looks thoughtful. “One day,” he repeats, “one lesson, one hour, until one day you look up and you realize it's been a year and you no longer see him in your dreams every night.”

Cody nods again, tight, and for a moment it's so quiet and it's almost like it was before, and it feels like too much, the grief and the want all twisted up, a burning ache in Cody's throat. So he sighs and pushes himself off the couch, giving Obi a tight, shaking smile. “I'm tired,” he says, feels like he might choke on the words. “I think we should get some sleep before they drag me into another meeting.”

Obi is still, for a moment, then he gets up and steps over and puts a hand on Cody's shoulder. It feels like he's pulled some weight off of his back in the process, but it doesn't help, because it just brings Cody too close to tears. “If you need anything, let me know,” he says, and Cody nods again, pulls away, and escapes out of the room and barely keeps from running the rest of the way back to his rooms.

He manages to keep back the fresh tears until the door closes behind him, but that's not much comfort. He doesn't think he can do this.

Chapter Text

On the second of Obi-Wan’s three days on Mandalore, Boba finds him.

The nearly-thirteen-year-old yells and rages for a few minutes (you were there, you should’ve saved him, why didn’t you save him?) before breaking down into tears and hugging him, tightly, face buried in Obi-Wan’s chest.

The words sting.

The hug helps, but Obi-Wan can’t help thinking that there’s truth to the words. He was there, and he’d known Jango to be- not necessarily on their side, but not against them. Jango had helped, had led Obi-Wan to Geonosis, after all. So he should’ve saved him.

He tried. But that wasn’t enough.

Cody seems to be the only person besides Ruusaan who isn’t horribly angry, but even then, there’s a tension. Because Obi-Wan is leaving, when Cody needs him the most.

Obi-Wan is leaving, but- that doesn’t mean he can’t find a way to still be here for Cody in whatever way Cody needs. And maybe… maybe he can find a way to reconcile his feelings for Cody with the attachment rules.

He spends the rest of the day packing, doesn’t see Cody much because Cody’s apparently planning Jango’s funeral; they meet in the library to eat dinner, though, and it’s almost like it used to be.

Almost.

“Have you heard more about the battalion you’re supposed to be assigned to?” Cody asks, casual, although there’s something strained in his voice. He looks tired.

“Not much,” Obi-Wan says. “I’ve been informed that… the clones all have numerical designations, according to the information we’ve received from Kamino and from what interactions we’ve had with them so far. I don’t like it.” He shakes his head. Numbers are no substitute for names, especially in an army that, despite looking all the same, had felt like a galaxy of stars to his Force senses, not a single one alike.

“You mean like they number droid models?” Cody’s voice is tight.

Obi-Wan sighs, rubs at his forehead. “Unfortunately, yes. I’ve heard that they seem to have names for each other, at least, so- It’s better than nothing. I quite dislike the Kaminoans, however. People don’t deserve to be treated like units.”

Cody shakes his head. “I don’t understand how- Buir always said he wanted us to not have any more wars, I don’t understand why he would be part of making an army, especially- one like this, a bunch of unlucky identical Humans.”

Obi-Wan doesn’t entirely know what to say to that. “I suppose he was being paid well, and maybe there was an ulterior motive - the Prime Minister of Kamino said a Jedi commissioned the army, but Jango said he was hired by a man named Tyranus. There’s mysteries here, ones we don’t know the answer to.”

“I don’t care,” Cody says, bitter, something sharp in his tone. Softer, quieter, he continues, “He shouldn’t have done it, nobody should’ve.”

“I know,” Obi-Wan says, equally quiet. “But it’s been done, and now all we can do is ride out the wave of war until the tide goes out again.”

“Oh, is that all you can do?” Cody not-quite-snaps. “That’s what tore my planet apart, Obi-Wan, and it never serves anybody.”

“I know,” Obi-Wan says, tries to keep his voice from rising in frustration. Breathe in, breathe out, release it to the Force. “I know, Cody. But we can’t stop this, not as long as both sides are refusing peace talks and the Chancellor refuses to allow the Separatist worlds to secede. All I can do, myself, now, is to try and keep as many of the men now counting on me to lead them alive as possible, and try to ensure this war doesn’t destroy the galaxy or, worse, the Order.”

“Yeah, well, it’s not going to fix anything if you just do what they tell you to when it’s kriffing insane,” Cody mutters, staring down at the table.

Obi-Wan sighs, grimaces a little. “What else can I do?” he asks, shakes his head a bit. “Take the coward’s way out and not fight, let my brothers and sisters in the Order fight and die instead while I don’t raise a finger to help? Let these clones get used up and thrown away like they’re nothing because this war is insane? I have to fight, Cody.” His voice rises, a bit, and this time he doesn’t try to stop it.

~~~

Cody’s so tired, feels stretched thin almost to the point of snapping. He twists his hands together on the tabletop, gritting his teeth a bit. “So it’s cowardly to take a stand? Now you’re just going to be one of the ones using the clones, and that’s not kriffing better. You don’t fekking have to do anything.”

“That’s not what I meant and you know it,” Obi-Wan says, grimacing, and Cody scowls.

“Do I?” he asks, sharp. “If you really wanted to, you could have good reasons not to fight.”

Obi-Wan’s quiet, for a second, looking at him like he’s disappointed, and Cody lifts his chin, anger burning in the back of his throat. “You, too?” Obi asks, softly.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Cody snaps, patience almost gone. He can’t do this.

Obi-Wan shakes his head, slightly. “Nothing,” he says.

Cody laughs short and breathy and shakes his head, not even sure what he wants to do, only that he’s angry and tired. “Of course.” He looks away, trying to regain any measure of control over his emotions, as scattered and overwhelming as they are.

He hears Obi-Wan sigh, slow, and Cody feels somehow like Obi’s judging him for being angry. After a moment, Obi-Wan says, “At least I’ll be someone who treats them like people, Cody.”

Cody laughs again, tight. “Somebody owns them, right?” he asks, bitter. The news is all saying there’s hundreds of thousands, maybe millions of these- people that have his buir’s face, and Cody doesn’t feel right about it. The Republic’s new Grand Army is a bunch of men that he’d almost have to consider clan, and sure it’s weird, and he doesn’t know how it all worked, but he’s pretty sure if they’re just copies of his buir, they’re human too, and- Cody doesn’t know why Jango was involved and he hates this, hates that Obi-Wan’s just going to go be part of this like it doesn’t matter, like he doesn’t have another option.

Obi-Wan nods a little, sighing again. “Technically… The Jedi paid for them. The Senate- owns them.”

“Well, at least you’ll be treating them like people,” Cody mimics, curling his lip. “It doesn’t matter how nice you are if they still only exist in the first place to fight this war and belong to the gods-damned Senate, Obi-Wan.”

“I know that, Cody,” Obi-Wan says, with a flinch, “but there’s nothing else I can do. And if I fight with them at least I can try to save lives.”

“Yeah, well, you keep saying there’s nothing else you can do,” Cody snaps, “and I don’t really know where that’s coming from, because there damn well is.” He doesn’t want to sit still, wants to get up and start pacing, but he ends up just leaning back in his chair and shoving his hands into his pockets.

“What would you have me do, then? Leave the Jedi Order?” Obi-Wan asks, pointedly, a bit impatient.

Cody scoffs. “Kriff, no, what do you take me for? But I think if you really wanted to stay out of the damn war, you could do it.” That comes out sharp, accusatory, and he shifts and crosses his arms defensively across his chest.

“If only things were that simple,” Obi-Wan laughs, bitter.

They are that simple, though, in a way; Cody would have thought Obi-Wan would have enough excuses, with his duties to Stewjon and Mandalore, with objections to the way the war was being fought, to be able to refuse to participate - call it a conflict of interest, something. “Yeah, thing is, I think you’re making it harder than it has to be,” Cody says, feeling all twisted up. “If you wanted to be here, then you’d stay. Did you actually even try to get them to let you stay out of it?”

Obi-Wan flinches, shifts a little and pulls a bit on his sleeves. “You’re oversimplifying things, Cody,” he says, as if he’s got all the damn answers, “and I do want to be here. But I have my duty, and purpose must come before feelings.”

“Can you just-” Cody rubs his forehead with one hand, fast and impatient so his voice cracks. “Just- stop talking philosophy for one gods-damned second and just- Did you try?”

Obi-Wan’s shoulders curl in, some, and he folds his hands on the table, rubbing his thumb over his knuckles. “I asked if I would be allowed to abstain from the war due to my position in the government of a neutral world. I was… reminded that I agreed that my commitment to the Jedi Order would supersede my commitment to Mandalore and informed of my three days, as well as the battalion that would be waiting for me.”

Cody’s eyes hurt, and he rubs at them a little, twists his hands together in fists. “Well, my buir is dead,” he says, the words thick and acid in his mouth, “and you’re not going to be here for the funeral because you’re going to be off somewhere leading a bunch of verde to their deaths, so I don’t really give a shit how good your excuses are.”

“I’m sorry I can’t be here,” Obi-Wan says, slumped, sounding defeated.

Cody swears quietly and shoves back from the table, getting to his feet. “Stop apologizing, it doesn’t fix anything,” he says, tears pricking at his eyes. He hates it. “Maybe you just shouldn’t have come back, it’s not like you need us. Make it easier for you to train your gods-damned padawan how you want, at least.”

For a second he stands there, shaking a little, not sure if he’s going to cry or just lash out again, and Obi-Wan looks at him, near-expressionless. Then Obi nods, slightly, pushes neatly back from the table and gets up too, tucking his hands behind his back. “As you wish,” he says, politely, and turns around, and walks away.

Cody doesn’t know what he expected, but somehow that makes him go cold all over, and all he can think to do is sit back down and bury his face in his hands, trying so hard to just breathe and- he’s not even sure what he’s trying to do, who he’s trying to fool, so he slumps a little and lets himself cry harder than he has yet. All that does, though, is hurt his chest and make it all feel worse, like he might just choke on everything, all the anger and loss and loneliness twisted together and stuck where he can’t reach it.

~~~

All told, it takes Obi-Wan an hour to be on his way back to Coruscant.

He spends a short while in his rooms, trying to fight off the worst of the irrational tears he can’t entirely swallow; it shouldn’t hurt like this, he thinks. The rejection. Everyone else had seemed to want him gone, once he revealed his part in the war (except Ruusaan, who understood, and maybe Boba - although he doesn’t even really believe that; Boba would’ve hugged anyone, at that point, he needed the comfort), so it shouldn’t have been such a surprise that Cody’s the same. He’d just thought- the hug, and the comfort of it, and the discussion over dinner - talking about loss, because this loss is something Obi-Wan is deeply, intimately familiar with - but clearly he was wrong.

Maybe you just shouldn’t have come back. The words echo and ache, even though he tries not to let them

He knows a dismissal when he hears one.

So it’s with a heavy heart and a slightly shaky voice he comms Anakin and tells him to gather your things, we’re leaving tonight, and he runs his fingers over the plants Cody had given him and swallows down the emotions. He wonders if anyone will water them.

He wonders if they’ll even keep his room the way it is.

You just shouldn’t have come back.

He thinks- they won’t. After all, Obi-Wan doesn’t have to live on Mandalore to fulfill the treaty with Stewjon, and it’s not like anyone wants him here anymore.

Apparently, not even Cody.

Force.

Well- it seems, at least, that he won’t need to find a way to work around the attachment rule anymore.

Anakin doesn’t understand why they’re leaving. “I thought we had another day, Master- Obi-Wan,” he says, sounds angry and upset even across the comm. “I still have friends to say goodbye to.”

“Well, say your goodbyes,” Obi-Wan says, “and meet me at the shuttle in an hour. I’m afraid we’ve worn out our welcome.”

“What does that mean?” Anakin’s confused, now, Obi-Wan can feel a trace of it across their training bond. “You literally live here, Master- Obi-Wan, you’re a Duke.”

“Yes, well.” He sighs. “It doesn’t seem anyone here approves of my place in this war. One hour, no more, alright?”

“Yes, Master.” There’s a burst of Huttese swearing, then Anakin corrects himself again: “Obi-Wan. Still not used to that.”

“You will be, in time.” Obi-Wan traces a delicate finger over the soft petals of a deep blue flower that’s become one of his favorites, in his time living here. For all Mandalore’s differences from the Jedi Temple, it’s become a home. “I’ll see you soon.”

Anakin hangs up with a click and Obi-Wan closes his eyes, tries to fall into the comforting embrace of the Force, but there’s nothing there but turmoil and pain. He can’t quite breathe it all out, all the raging emotions, so he shoves them down, where they won’t get in his way, and then he grabs his datapad and begins to type.

Cody-

I’m sorry for the abrupt manner of my departure - please apologize on my behalf to your advisors, as I am aware they were all hoping to get more of my advice before I had to leave. I’ve collected the items I need the most; as Jedi are not entirely encouraged to have possessions, I’m leaving the majority of the trinkets and excess clothing I acquired here. Feel free to do with it what you will, and if you need the room back, don’t feel bad about getting rid of things.

I hope Jango’s funeral goes well. Nu kyr’adyc, shi taab’echaaj’la. He will be remembered.

I wish things could’ve turned out better, but I suppose that, as you said, this is for the best. Maybe things will be easier on you now.

-Obi-Wan

When he’s done, he prints the note out and tucks it on the low table in the main sitting area of the suite, next to the blue flower. There’s a pen on the table, he’s not sure why - very few people use them anymore - but he can’t help adding one last sentence in neat, careful penmanship: This one’s my favorite, please don’t throw it out.

There. That’s done.

He needs to go. Maybe once he’s back in the Temple, he’ll be able to meditate easier, and all this mess will- go away. It hurts, too much, he doesn’t want to feel it anymore.

This, he thinks, is part of why the Jedi forbid attachment.

He waits in the shuttle until Anakin arrives, carrying his bags, a look of confusion on his face that turns quickly to concern - Obi-Wan supposes he doesn’t look the best, right now. “Master, what happened?” he asks, quickly, and Obi-Wan sighs.

“It doesn’t matter, Anakin,” he says, tiredly. “We need to get back to Coruscant. Go ahead and fly, I’m going to go back and comm the Council, and let them know I’ve decided to accept their offer of a Council seat.”

He hadn’t been sure, before. With Cody and Mandalore still an important part of his life, he wasn’t sure he could adequately handle the responsibilities of being a member of the Jedi High Council as well as a Duke.

Now, it seems, the choice has been made for him.

Becoming a member of the Council is a great honor. He should feel joy, pride maybe, satisfaction, fulfillment.

Instead, he just feels tired.

And very, very alone.

~~~

By the time Cody’s managed to get himself back under a semblance of control again, he’s received three comms from Rex that he’s stubbornly ignored, telling him that the Republic ship is gone and so, it would seem, are Obi-Wan and Anakin. Cody’s almost not even surprised, but it still takes a moment of steeling himself before he can comm Rex back.

“They left?” he asks, proud of how his voice doesn’t shake at all.

“Where the kriff have you been?” Rex snaps. “I was starting to think you left with them. What the hell happened?”

“I-” Cody is going to lie, make up something less miserable than the actual truth of things, but he wants someone to know, so he shakes his head and says, “I said he shouldn’t have come back.”

Rex doesn’t answer for a minute, and when he does, he’s quieter. “Codes, why’d you do that?” He sounds careful, confused.

Cody rubs his forehead, hard. “I just- I don’t know, maybe he shouldn’t have,” he says, tired, “if he was just gonna leave again.”

“Cody…”

“Don’t give me that, I know it’s stupid, but if he cared about us- me- at all then he’d stay.” Cody thinks he sounds like a damned kid but he doesn’t want to care, he’s allowed to be angry about one damn thing.

“I’m sorry,” Rex says, sounding tired, and maybe Cody shouldn’t be putting this on him after all, it’s not like Rex doesn’t have enough on his plate. “Cody, I’m not happy with him either, but that’s not-”

“Not fair, I know.” Cody pinches his nose and sighs, heavy. “They left anyway, and I’m sure it’ll all work out fine for everyone.”

“Do you want to reschedule our meeting?”

“No, we need to talk before we see the clan representatives tomorrow.” Cody sighs, looks around at his rooms, where he’s been sitting (and mostly crying) for the last half hour. “It’s fine, I’ll manage.”

“I’m sorry,” Rex reiterates, and Cody doesn’t bother answering.

He’s not even sure how this all happened. Everything could’ve been so good, and it was for a while, and now it’s just a gods-damned mess. Cody thinks he should feel guilty, or sorry, but he’s too tired and it hurts too much as it is, so he doesn’t try to make himself feel something he doesn’t.

After another moment, he pushes himself up from his chair, goes to wash his face in the ‘fresher, then adjusts his coat and takes a deep breath. He’s wasted enough time. They have too much to deal with for him to be moping in his room like a thirteen-year-old, and it won’t change anything.

Still, when he leaves his room and starts down the hallway towards the throne room and all the meetings he has and the problems he needs to solve, he can’t help glancing at the door to Obi’s rooms, and he stops, hesitates a second. Then, with a little sigh, he turns and presses the keypad to open the door, feeling worn out. He supposes somebody’s going to have to take care of all the plants, although it occurs to him that there’s a lot of them and he doesn’t even know what sort of care any of them need. Probably he should have thought of that before giving Obi-Wan so many - for all he knows the gesture was more a pain in Obi’s ass than anything else.

Then again, he thinks, looking around the rooms and closing the door behind him, they make the place look alive, and it’s nice. He’s not sure what he’s expecting to do, here, but it makes him miss Obi-Wan some, and he goes and sits down on the couch where everything smells just a little sweet because of the flowers.

There’s a piece of paper on the coffee table, by a potted blue flower that has flecks of purple on its petals. Cody picks it up, because the paper’s printed with lines of Aurebesh script, and it’s addressed to him. There’s a wrinkled splotch on part of the paper like it got wet, and Cody runs his finger over it, putting off reading it for a second. Maybe it’s more explanations, or more apologies, or maybe it’s just instructions for how to care for the plants.

It turns out to be a goodbye note, which maybe Cody should have expected. What he doesn’t expect is the line in the middle of the letter, nearly innocuous: Feel free to do with it what you will, and if you need the room back, don’t feel bad about getting rid of things.

Cody was planning to keep the room for him, of course, and his things, because he’d thought- This is a mess, and awful, but he’d assumed eventually things would be manageable, that at least if Obi-Wan had some time away from the war, he’d come home, but…

Apparently he doesn’t intend to come back.

The end of the note says that the blue flower here on the table is Obi-Wan’s favorite, says not to throw it out, and if Obi were here Cody would shake him. He’s not throwing out any of the damn plants. Unless he kills them by mistake, he doesn’t know if he’s any good at taking care of plants.

He almost crumples up the note, but folds it up very small instead to tuck into his pocket. Then he gets up to go, privately wondering if Obi-Wan took his scarf with him and knowing he probably shouldn’t care - it’s just that it had been a gift. But it’s not as if a Jedi General needs one, so he thinks he better not worry about it and just do what he needs to.

At the meeting, he explains to everyone that he’s sorry Obi-Wan’s not there, that he’d suggested Obi-Wan go back early since the war effort needed him, and that he’s sure they’ll learn to manage without his input again. Cody’s fairly sure Riska wants to punch him in the face, but that’s not new, and he doesn’t really care about the look Ruusaan is giving him either.

His advisors agree to help him put forth his argument for neutrality. He’s a little surprised, but even Cato and Riska say they agree that it will be better if they’re not involved in this war when it has nothing to do with them. The Republic and the Separatists are already sending them missives, and the Senate has of course claimed that since Cody is married to Obi-Wan, Cody owes his aid to the Jedi as well as to Stewjon.

Cody crafts a response that is just a few polite phrases shy of being kriff you, because if he’s not clear on his position they’ll be asking him for months. Rex is watching him, he notices, being a little overprotective, but he can’t be annoyed by it. It feels like support.

The clan representatives arrive in Sundari the next day for a meeting - Cody tells Rex, privately, that he’s afraid no one will listen to him. But he’ll do whatever he has to - he’s not fighting this war.

Clan Vizsla is absent. Bo-Katan is there, for clan Kryze, and Cody hears more condolences than he knows what to do with. Before their meeting begins, they all say a remembrance for Jango together, even though most of the representatives will be staying for a few days for Jango’s funeral.

Then they end up debating for hours, in true Mandalorian fashion.

The main problem is that several of the clans seem to feel that they should use this opportunity to strike at the Jedi, remind everyone why Mandalore used to be the most formidable systems in the galaxy, and although Bo-Katan doesn’t say much, it’s clear that she leans towards this way of thinking, and that doesn’t really help Cody’s case. Cody’s half surprised, half not - she’s not a neutral person, never has been. He doesn’t expect her to agree with him all the time, that’s half of the reason he chose her as an advisor. Still, it makes it difficult.

He’s somewhat surprised to find anybody listening to him when he makes his arguments for neutrality. Maybe it’s because of the darksaber on his belt, maybe it’s because his buir just died, maybe Obi’s right and he’s earned at least this much respect, but they hear him out and then listen to Ruusaan, too. Cody mostly tries to convince them that it will be best for Mandalore to stay out of the fight because joining either side would bring them under the regulation of either the Republic or the CIS Senate, asks them why they’d want to die for a cause that had nothing to do with them. He even points out, careful, that they can’t hold onto their hatred for the Jedi forever - if they let that pull them into an unwise, galaxy-wide war, they’ll never be able to move on and rebuild their planet.

Oddly enough, the argument seems to help. There’s more discussion, of course, and some dissatisfied rumblings, but his advisors are backing him up (except for Bo-Katan, which still bothers him) and some of the other representatives point out that they can’t throw away what Jango had spent years building, especially not now.

Cody didn’t really expect it, but it seems that the meeting is actually going to end in an agreement, that maybe he won’t have to fight everyone for the peace he wants so badly. The longer they talk, the more he feels able to relax - most of them agree. The war is not their business, and Mandalore isn’t going to play mercenary for people who don’t even have their interests in mind.

It’s put to a vote after they break for dinner - with everyone comfortable and in a relatively good mood from good alcohol and hearty food, Cody’s relieved, even thrilled, to find that the vast majority of the clans vote to stay neutral.

The other clans seem at least willing to accept the decision.

That is, until everyone seems to be getting ready to retire to their rooms for the night, collecting datapads and helmets and jackets, and Bo-Katan stands up and draws her blaster, firing a shot in the air that scorches the ceiling. “You’ve all gone soft,” she says, in the ensuing silence, ignoring how half the representatives had dropped their hands to their weapons when she drew her own. Cody shakes his head a little at her, but she ignores him. “You let us tie our people to the jetiise, and now when we have a chance to strike back at them for everything they’ve done to our people, you want to hide in our own system like a bunch of cowards?”

Everyone mutters, most glaring - it’s an insult that could get her challenged, if she’d directed it at any one person. Cody doesn’t understand where this is coming from - or then again, maybe he should. He’s the one who said it would be fine to send her to infiltrate Pre Vizsla’s New Death Watch, and he thought she wouldn’t listen to him - but apparently he was wrong.

Bo-Katan shakes her head, lip curling, and lifts her chin a little. “Mandalore doesn’t need a weak leader right now. Clan Kryze stands with Clan Vizsla.” With that, she puts her helmet on, holsters her blaster, and marches out of the meeting room while everyone else bursts into outraged conversation.

Cody looks at Rex, who shrugs slightly, apologetic, seeming as confused as Cody feels.

He supposes he’ll have to find a new advisor.

If people keep leaving, though, maybe he’s going to have to think about this again. Maybe they’re right, and he’s just afraid, but- he needs to do this, so he tries to enjoy the fact that regardless of Pre and Bo-Katan’s move, the rest of Mandalore has agreed to stand with him still. For now, that’s good enough.

~~~

When Obi-Wan’s first introduced to his battalion (Commander Waxer, Captain Risk, and a handful of other officers who haltingly offer out their names when he tells them he didn’t ask for numbers), no one mentions Cody.

It’s good, for the first few weeks, when they’re all too unsure around him to tease - of course, he’d rather they were all relaxed, his men. There’s something surprisingly satisfying about the first time he’s included in their teasing banter, when Waxer shouts at him to move your shebs! on a battlefield instead of prefacing it with a General Kenobi.

But with the informality comes rumors and an incessant amount of teasing.

“So, sir,” one of the technicians, a particularly talkative clone with the name Gadget, says, one evening, when Obi-Wan’s on the bridge studying a holo of the planet they’re currently surrounding - they’ve got the Separatist forces grounded, now that the blockade has finally been dismantled. “We - that is, my brothers and I - heard that you have a husband.”

Obi-Wan sighs, rubs at his forehead. “Is this really relevant, Gadget?” he asks.

“Nope!” the technician says cheerfully. “But at least I got you to confirm it’s true.”

He scurries off the bridge, a far-too-wide grin on his face, and Obi-Wan spends the next five minutes trying to figure out how, exactly, his response had been a confirmation.

Boil is the next one to bring the subject up, smiling wickedly with a datapad in hand. He turns it around, reveals the screen - it’s showing a picture of Obi-Wan and Cody on their wedding day. Obi-Wan swallows hard at the image, very nearly reaches out to touch it. Things had been- good, then, even if it couldn’t last.

“Your husband is Cody Fett?” Boil asks, and Obi-Wan pushes away all the longing and the sorrow the sight of Cody conjures, forces a wry, unamused smile. “You’re practically a brother.”

He huffs. “Thank you, Boil,” he says, directs a slightly more amused smile to Waxer, standing in the background with the look of someone watching a speeder crash in slow motion on his face. Waxer just cringes, mouths sorry - Obi-Wan has to smile a little truer at that.

If the subject of the teasing was anything other than Cody, he’d welcome it.

As it is, he finds himself in his quarters on his cruiser, the newly-christened Negotiator, late that night, scrolling through the HoloNet and looking at news reports.

There’s not many - a Jedi marrying a Mandalorian Duke had been a shock, but the fact that it was a simple political marriage had made the chatter die down quickly. Still, there’s shots of the wedding, and there’s one small article tucked in amongst the wedding chatter. According to its title, it’s a collection of images from the most recent Festival of Lights on Stewjon; without really pausing to think about it, Obi-Wan clicks the link.

At first, the pictures don’t bother him - there’s images of brightly-dressed locals and tourists, there’s food and drink and jewelry and candles, there’s the dancing-

Oh.

One picture, almost unnoticeable in the rest of the gallery, captioned with the simple phrase Jedi Knight Kenobi and Duke Cody Fett of Mandalore.

They’re dancing, in the picture, at least supposedly - Obi-Wan’s leaning against Cody’s chest and they’re smiling at each other, Cody in the process of saying something, both his arms tight around Obi-Wan’s back. Just looking at the image, he can feel the memory of Cody’s embrace, of how secure it’d been, how warm and relaxed he’d felt.

He can no longer entirely write it off as the alcohol.

He pushes himself off his bunk, crosses over to the desk and opens one of the drawers near the bottom, pulls out a colorful scarf and tangles his fingers in the strands, crosses back to the bunk and sits down and presses his face into the soft fabric.

If he closes his eyes, he can almost smell the flowers, the candles, a hint of spice from Cody’s jacket.

He saves the picture to his datapad.

Maybe you just shouldn’t have come back.

Obi-Wan Kenobi is a Jedi Master of the highest order. He is in command of some quarter of the Grand Army of the Republic and has a seat on the Jedi High Council.

And, apparently, he can still cry over lost chances.

Several times, as the war progresses, he finds himself tuning his commlink to Cody’s frequency, but he always stops himself before he can actually begin a transmission. Cody made his opinion quite clear, and he has not reached out to Obi-Wan to let him know that contact would be acceptable, so…

Sometimes Obi-Wan wonders about his plants.

He wonders if anyone will know how to take care of them, or if he’ll find them all dead when he-

But, of course, it’s not likely he’ll be going back. So it hardly matters.

Christophsis is a hard battle. Obi-Wan… dislikes that, dislikes the way the rest of the Council saw fit to send young Ahsoka Tano as a messenger, although he does approve of her pairing with Anakin. The two of them, he expects, will cause a great deal of trouble and take the Jedi Order by storm. She’s a spot of brightness in the bleak Force that is the aftermath of Slick’s betrayal, and he suspects she’s the only thing keeping morale up when news of their new assignment to Teth is given.

Christophsis is just the first of a series of incredibly difficult, long, drawn-out campaigns, with a great many casualties, and on late nights in his bunk, Obi-Wan finds himself sinking into the comfort of memory, the simulated lightness of a Force unscathed by so much loss; he buries his face in the scarf Cody gave him and thinks about the way the lanterns had been a galaxy of stars reflecting in Cody’s eyes and he lets himself dream.

There is nothing in the Jedi Code against dreaming.

His first serious injury comes during the second invasion of Geonosis, some eight months into the war; he’s taken back to a medbay on board the Negotiator and instructed to remain there until the end of the campaign, barring emergencies, at which point he will be expected to return to Coruscant for a stint with the Jedi healers before being allowed to resume his duties with his battalions. His cruiser remains in orbit until the 212th is called back, at which point he is besieged by Waxer, Boil, and his senior medic, Scratch, all of whom are most definitely fussing.

“This is why you need to wear more armor, sir,” Waxer informs him, as though armor could’ve saved him from a crash.

“I told you, Waxer,” he says, “it interferes with mobility. The bracers and chestplate were a compromise - I’m not wearing more.”

Waxer makes a frustrated noise, one that’s echoed by Scratch, then sighs and says, “I’m taking that, General,” and before Obi-Wan can react, plucks the commlink off his wrist.

Rude.

“You’ll get it back when I’ve cleared you,” Scratch agrees.

“This is- harassment,” Obi-Wan declares, tries to push himself upright, only to be stopped by a stern glare and a hand on his chest. “Boil, surely you don’t-”

“Sorry, General,” Boil says, the traitor. “I’m not arguing with my riduur on this.”

“Traitor,” he mutters, with no real heat. “Fine, I’ll behave.”

“You’ve never behaved, General Kenobi,” Scratch says. “I don’t think that word means what you think it means, you know.”

Obi-Wan scoffs, rolls his eyes, and then swears as Scratch pokes at his injured ribs. “Scratch!”

“Oh, relax, sir,” the medic huffs. “You’ll be fine. Now hold still so I can wrap these.”

It’s not until after Scratch has finished his work and left the medbay, dimming the lights to better match the ship’s night-cycle lighting, that Waxer turns Obi-Wan’s comm on (what is he doing?), adjusts it to a frequency, and says, without preamble, “Hello? Is this Cody Fett?”

Obi-Wan isn’t sure if he wants to strangle his Commander or thank him for doing what Obi-Wan has not been able to, these past few months.

The moment he hears Cody’s voice, he knows it’s the latter.

~~~

Cody’s frustrated by the lack of specifics in the news reports on the war, although tactically he understands it. The Republic and the Separatists can hardly afford to have their every campaign reported on for the whole galaxy to know about, it would give the other side too much information. But that makes it damn hard for Cody to have any idea how Obi-Wan’s battalion is holding up, much less Obi-Wan himself. And he knows he could solve that problem if he’d just comm Obi-Wan, and he’s certainly considered that, but he suspects Obi-Wan doesn’t want to hear from him. With time to think, Cody had had to admit that he’d been too harsh with Obi-Wan, even though he still doesn’t feel like he understands at all why Obi is doing this. With how angry he’d been, and how everyone else hadn’t exactly been happy either, he wouldn’t really blame Obi-Wan for not wanting to come back. Assuming he’d wanted to in the first place.

Cody’s been sitting at his desk for half an hour, scrolling through decreasingly relevant news articles and vids for mentions of the 212th Attack Battalion, when his comm pings. Frankly, he’s grateful for the interruption.

“Hello? Is this Cody Fett?”

For a second, Cody’s chest hurts, because that’s his buir’s voice, or near enough, and he has to remind himself that it’s not Jango, so- more than likely it’s one of the Republic troopers. He sighs, sets his datapad down, and answers the comm as politely as he can manage. “It is, who’m I talking to?”

“This is Commander Waxer of the 212th,” speak of the devil. “I hope it’s alright I’m comming, sir.”

Cody huffs a little, shakes his head. “What do you need, Commander?” he asks, although he really just wants to ask about Obi-Wan.

“Well, General Kenobi got kind of beat up on our last campaign - not too bad!” Waxer adds, hastily, still not fast enough to keep Cody from feeling a stab of worry. “But we confiscated his commlink so he’d actually get some rest, so I thought I should let you know he won’t be comming for a while.”

That’s not news to Cody, of course, but he supposes there’s no reason the Commander would know that. “Thank you, Waxer.” He hesitates. “What happened, exactly?”

“Transport crash, sir.” Waxer sounds almost apologetic. “We met some heavy fire when we were trying to land, and he doesn’t have any armor to speak of, so his ribs and leg got kriffed up.”

Abruptly, in the background of the comm call, Obi-Wan interjects, sounding irritated. “I do too wear armor, Waxer, I have a chestplate and bracers.”

Obi’s right there, and Cody almost tells Waxer to let him talk to Obi-Wan, except then more distant he hears Waxer spluttering, “Hey sir, you aren’t supposed to have that.”

“I’ll give it back after this, calm down,” Obi-Wan says, and Cody can properly hear him, now, so he suspects Obi-Wan stole back his commlink. There’s a slight pause. “Hello, Cody,” Obi-Wan says, quiet, and Cody sits back in his chair and runs his thumb around the edge of his comm.

“Hey,” he says, feeling oddly anxious. “Not sure a chestplate and bracers counts as ‘wearing armor,’ Obi-Wan.”

“It’s close enough,” Obi says, wryly. “Besides, armor wouldn’t have saved me in that crash.”

“No, but I’m sure it would have helped,” Cody points out, smiling to himself, “even if it would’ve kept you from doing backflips in the transport.”

“Not backflips, Cody,” Obi-Wan corrects him, snorting. “Somersaults.”

“Ah, forgive me. Even if it would’ve kept you from doing somersaults in the transport.” Cody can’t help being amused.

“It’s when I get outside the transport it’s an issue,” Obi says.

“Well, you can’t do somersaults with, what was it?”

“Broken ribs and a wrenched hip,” Waxer inputs, helpfully, in the background.

“Thank you.” Cody nods. “You can’t do somersaults with a wrenched hip and broken ribs, Obi-Wan.”

Obi-Wan sounds very put out when he answers. “Do you want to bet?” he grumbles.

“No, Obi-Wan,” Cody sighs, “because then I’m quite sure you’d manage it, just to prove me wrong.”

“Quite right,” Obi admits, his voice light and warm, “I would.”

“Gods, the field medics must hate you.” Cody picks at his fingernails a little, but he can’t really keep a stupid grin off his face. He’s just missed talking to Obi-Wan, missed his voice and the way he thinks he always thinks he’s so clever.

“They do,” Obi-Wan says, wryly, and Cody chuckles a little. Obi-Wan’s quiet, for a second, then he asks, careful, “How are you doing, Cody? You and your brothers.”

Cody swallows a little, rubs his eyes. “I’m…” He stops, hesitates, and transitions to speaking Mando’a, because he’d rather not have everyone privy to what he has to say, although he’s sure they’d be capable of discretion. “I don’t know, we’re alright. It’s- not easy, Boba’s still really upset, but I suppose you couldn’t expect anything else.”

“You still miss him,” Obi-Wan says, gently, in the same language.

Cody nods, even though Obi can’t see him, and rubs his forehead. “I mean, ‘lek, Obi, he- It just feels wrong, so- I’m sorry, you’re supposed to be recovering, this probably isn’t helping.” They haven’t spoken in eight months and he just starts venting as if Obi-Wan doesn’t have enough to deal with. Cody shouldn’t expect him to put up with that anymore.

“No, don’t apologize,” Obi-Wan says, quickly. “I want to help. I’ve… missed talking to you.”

“Oh.” Cody wishes Obi-Wan wasn’t in a different system right now. “I- Yeah, I’ve missed talking to you too.”

“You have?” It hurts that Obi-Wan sounds surprised about that, although Cody supposes it’s only fair.

Cody forces himself to be light, instead of saying everything else he wants to. “Yeah, obviously, di’kut, nobody else around here has anything interesting to say.” More like he’s one of the only people that Cody thinks really understands him, besides his brothers, and he’s funny and intelligent and good to talk to. But he can’t say that.

“I didn’t think you wanted to hear from me.” Obi-Wan’s very quiet, sounds a touch vulnerable, and Cody rests his head on his hand, feeling so tired.

“Guess that makes two of us.”

“Of course I wanted to hear from you,” Obi says, almost startled. Cody closes his eyes. “But you asked me to leave. I wasn’t going to reach out without permission.”

“I didn’t-” Cody stops, sighs heavily and shakes his head. “I didn’t want you to leave, I just… N’eparavu takisit.” A standard Mandalorian apology after a bad fight. Maybe it’ll help, Cody doesn’t know. “I didn’t mean that you shouldn’t have come back.” Or rather, he did, at the time, but now… Now he just wants to fix things, at least a little, because not talking to Obi-Wan has been… it’s been awful.

And anyway, Cody has to be able to ask him how to take care of some of his plants, because despite his efforts three of them have died and had to be replaced, and in order to do that he has to at least be on speaking terms with Obi.

~~~

Obi-Wan probably shouldn’t feel so much relief at the apology, it’s just… Cody didn’t want him to leave. Maybe he can- “Do you want me to come back?” he asks, honestly, glances briefly over at Boil and Waxer on the far side of the room - they’re trying to give him privacy, he can tell, but he also knows they’re listening to every word said and trying to make sense of it.

Cody is quiet for a long minute, long enough Obi-Wan feels the hope inside him crumble. “Why are you asking?” he asks, and Obi-Wan closes his eyes.

“It doesn’t matter,” he starts, only to be interrupted by Waxer clearing his throat from across the room.

“Sir,” he says, carefully, in Mando’a, “not to interrupt, but the General’s due leave, if he can get the GAR to give it to him, and I’m sure he’d like to spend it at home.”

Cody swears. “Obi-Wan, you could have mentioned that your Commander speaks my language,” he says, sounds embarrassed. Before Obi-Wan can respond, he adds, more quietly, “And thanks for the update, Commander, that- would certainly be something to look forward to.”

So maybe? Obi-Wan smiles just a little, says, “From all accounts, the earliest batches of vode were trained and taught in part by Jango and other Mandalorians - it only follows that they’d speak Mando’a as well.” He sighs a bit, then says, “And- if that’s truly the case, then I’ll look into securing some leave time.”

“My kriffing buir,” Cody mutters, under his breath, and then his tone brightens. “You should, I think I’m killing your plants.”

“You kept them?” Obi-Wan asks, knows he sounds a bit too delighted, but, well- Cody wants him to come back. Cody kept his plants. Cody’s talking to him. “I’m going to be very upset if you killed my blue flower, Cody, I told you it’s my favorite.”

“I didn’t,” Cody says, nearly grumpy. “Just one of the, like, ferns, and a vine one - I’m not familiar with plants, you know, so I’m trying but I don’t know what any of them are.”

“I would’ve happily given you instructions if I knew you were going to keep them,” Obi-Wan says. “I can type up some instructions on my datapad and send them to you, if you’d like. It wouldn’t take long, and I’m sure the good Commander will allow me my datapad while I’m on bedrest, to while away the hours.” He gives Waxer a pointed look, gets only an eye roll in response.

“That would be great, actually,” Cody says, and Obi-Wan smiles at his comm, soft, wishes he could see Cody’s face.

“I suppose that means I have permission to comm you, then?” he asks, tries to be lighthearted, though he’s fairly sure there’s too much uncertainty and fragile hope in his voice for that to really work.

“Of course you do, Obi,” Cody says, cheerful and warm, and Obi-Wan can’t help relaxing into his pillow a bit.

“Well, I suppose I’ll have to do my best to make use of that permission, then.” He sighs, rubs at his eyes, grumbles, to himself more than anything else, “Of course, if we have another Christophsis that’ll make things difficult.”

“Don’t jinx it, Obi-Wan.” Cody’s as dry as a desert, and Obi-Wan can imagine the look on his face, wryly amused, but eyes warm all the same. He’s missed that warmth, so much. “But I suppose war isn’t particularly conducive to casual conversations.”

“Indeed,” Obi-Wan says with a sigh. “I’ve hardly spoken to Anakin outside shared campaigns since this all began.”

“I’m sorry, that sounds frustrating.”

“It’s life,” he answers, tiredly. “We’d have more time if I wasn’t dealing with Council business every time I have a spare moment. Master Kenobi, a moment, have you?” he grumbles, imitating Yoda’s voice for a second - he respects the Grand Master tremendously, but Force, he’d like a break.

Cody sounds surprised when he answers. “You’re on the Council now?”

“Oh, yes, I forgot you wouldn’t have known,” Obi-Wan says, wincing a bit. “They offered me a seat after the Geonosis debacle, and-” He pauses. “Well, after some meditation on the issue, I decided to accept it.”

“That’s great, I’m sure you’re a lot of help to them,” Cody says, sincere. He’s quiet for a heartbeat, then he adds, “I suppose you don’t have much time, then.”

“Unfortunately, no,” Obi-Wan sighs. “As a member of the Council and General over the Third Systems Army, I… have quite a lot of responsibilities. I will definitely try to make time to comm when I can, even if it’s just during hyperspace jumps to the next battlefield.” He’s reaching for more to say when the door slides open and Scratch walks in again, looking quite irate.

“General Kenobi,” he snaps, “I thought I heard talking. You’re not supposed to have your comm, and you can tell the Council I said-”

“Scratch,” Obi-Wan says with a sigh, smiling a bit and shifting back into Basic, “I’m not talking to the Council, but I appreciate your concern-”

“I don’t suppose it makes a difference if he’s talking to his riduur, bar’uur?” Cody interjects, and Obi-Wan sees Scratch soften a bit, although he’s sure the medic would never admit it.

“I guess I could make an exception,” Scratch says reluctantly, “but it’s night-cycle for us, your riduur needs to sleep, and if I let him keep his comm, he’ll get dragged into Council business and won’t get any rest.”

“Oh, I’m sure when we’re finished talking he can be responsible and put his comm away,” Cody says, pointedly, and Obi-Wan tries not to grimace at the look Scratch gives him.

“You’d think,” the medic mutters dourly. “How about it, General, can we actually trust you this time?”

“Well, Scratch, I suppose that’s your choice,” Obi-Wan says. “You know that if the Council comms, I’m obligated to answer.”

“How about you give him five more minutes, bar’uur?” Cody asks, surprisingly respectful and polite, and Scratch lets out a heavy sigh.

“Fine, five more minutes- don’t give me that look, General, I’m still not letting you keep the comm.” Obi-Wan has, naturally, no idea what Scratch is referring to. “I’ll be back in five minutes, so make it quick.”

Obi-Wan grins as the medic leaves the room. Five more minutes with Cody’s voice - it’s a blessing he hadn’t expected to get. Hadn’t expected to get to talk with Cody at all, really, so-

This is good.

~~~

“You’re such a dumbass,” Cody says, after a moment, trying to keep from sounding too fond, and failing. “You oughta give your poor medic a break, Obi-Wan.”

“I try, Cody,” which Cody somewhat doubts, “it’s not my fault I keep getting in bad situations.” Obi-Wan sounds very huffy, and Cody shakes his head.

“That’s what you get for going off to war, Kenobi,” he points out, dry, and then cringes a little and rubs his forehead. “It’s all bad situations.”

“Yes, well…” Obi-Wan stops, and Cody hears him sigh a bit. “I know what you think about this war, but I still say I had no choice.”

“There was nothing-” Cody stops himself, with an effort, and shakes his head again. “Yes, I know what you think about this war too.”

Obi-Wan’s quiet for a second, and Cody feels like a damned idiot - how hard would it have been to leave the subject of the war alone? “I’m sorry,” Obi says, “I shouldn’t have brought that up.”

“Yeah, me neither,” Cody says, nodding. “It doesn’t matter.”

“Indeed not, and this is hardly the time or place to be rehashing old arguments anyway.” Obi-Wan sounds tired.

“No.” Cody picks at the embroidery on his sleeves, suddenly very weary himself. “I’ll tell you, it’s frustrating not to have someone challenging to spar with.” The only person that matches him these days is Jak, but they’ve sparred often enough since Cody started learning to use his saber that they both find each other predictable.

“I find myself in the same predicament, oddly enough.” Obi-Wan chuckles, warm. “While the men are more than willing to spar with me hand-to-hand, very few of them have any saber or blade combat training.”

“That seems unfortunate,” Cody huffs, amused. “I would have thought my buir would have put that on the agenda, but then he’d never been as good with a blade as a blaster.” When Cody was younger, he’d been very proud of the fact that he was better with the darksaber than his father was - but then, Jango just made up for that with other tricks.

“The older batches-” Batches? “-the ones personally trained by your father, have had some training with blades - but I understand why it’s limited. Blasters are much more effective against droids, even if they are uncivilized.”

“Yes, well, I’ll be sure to tell Rex you think so,” Cody says, dryly. “While we’re- discussing this, you said they speak Mando’a - what else did my buir teach these soldiers?” He thinks he needs to know that Jango wasn’t just doing a project and didn’t care about what a massive mess this was - some hundreds of thousands of Humans running around fighting a war that just started, and Cody just wants to think his buir at least didn’t treat them like, what was Obi-Wan’s word, batches or products or units or whatever the current popular term is in the HoloNews.

Obi-Wan makes a thoughtful noise. “Really, you should ask one of them - but from what Waxer and some of the others have told me, he told them stories of Mandalore.”

“I suppose in a sense, all of them are aliit,” Cody says, slowly. “I mean I know it’s- complicated and kriffed up, but- Hells, nothing is ever simple, is it?”

“Unfortunately, no.”

Cody sighs, rubbing his jaw, then says, “I suppose I should excuse myself before you get in trouble with your medic again.”

“I suppose,” Obi-Wan says reluctantly. “It’s been… good to hear your voice, though.”

“Yours too.” Cody closes his eyes, wishes Obi were actually here instead of in some other system, injured and busy and barely able to talk to him because of his other responsibilities. And although Cody doesn’t intend to ask, he wonders how Obi-Wan is supposed to be on the Jedi Council and have time to help govern Mandalore, if he still plans to come back. “I’ll try to comm again,” he says, as lightly as he can manage.

“Me too, although I can’t guarantee I’ll be able to.”

“No, I know.” Cody smiles tightly to himself. “Still, I hope we can at least comm more than we have been.”

“Indeed.” Obi-Wan sounds wry. “I’ll certainly make an effort to make time for it.”

“I will as well.” Cody hesitates a moment. He doesn’t want to stop talking to Obi-Wan, is a little afraid that despite this conversation, they still won’t talk, and things will still be off. But he hopes that won’t be the case. “Well… Take care of yourself, Obi.”

Lightly, Obi-Wan says, “I’ll do my best, as long as you do the same,” prompting Cody to laugh a little.

“I’ll certainly try. I think I’m not in any imminent danger, though.”

“Well, I’d certainly hope not, unless the clans have gotten significantly more rowdy since I left,” Obi-Wan says, amused.

“Not yet.” Cody chuckles, shakes his head, and then grimaces. “Took me ages to sort out how much of Bo-Katan’s intel I could trust - Did you see, Kryze decided to break off and join clan Vizsla, and that’s been… complicated.”

“Bo-Katan joined the New Death Watch?” Obi-Wan sounds surprised. Cody wishes they had more time to talk about this. “No, I hadn’t heard - the HoloNet isn’t overly concerned with Mandalore right now.”

“She did. I’ve got a new advisor you’ll have to meet, sometime. Apparently Bo-Katan had more of an issue with my decisions than I realized.”

“I’m sorry,” Obi sighs, “that must have been difficult.”

“It happened.” Cody shakes his head. There’d been a lot all at once, at the time, he thinks he’d only managed well at all by pushing everything aside to be dealt with later. “Mainly now it’s just a logistical nightmare.”

“If I can get some leave in a reasonable amount of time, maybe I can help you with that.”

Cody rather doubts that being likely, but appreciates the offer. “We’ll see,” he answers.

“Indeed,” Obi-Wan says, and Cody smiles slightly, tired.

“I suppose I’ll talk to you later, Obi,” he says, light. “I- miss you.”

“I miss you too,” Obi-Wan says, after a moment, which feels- good, Cody thinks. “Oh, by the way- I kept the scarf,” his riduur adds, and Cody blinks, finds himself surprised.

“Oh,” he says, trying not to sound surprised, “good, I don’t think it’d look as good on me.” He shakes his head, adds, “I’ll let you go before your medic yells at you.”

“I’m sure it would look lovely,” Obi admonishes, amusedly, then sighs and says, “Indeed, I’ll talk to you later.”

“Yeah.” Cody rubs his face, grins a bit. “Behave yourself, di’kut.” He disconnects the comm before Obi-Wan can respond, and sits for a second, quiet. Obi-Wan misses him. Obi kept his present and is going to tell him how to take care of his plants, and he’s going to try to come home, and they’ll get to talk. Cody is still surprised Obi even wanted to talk to him.

He thinks he might owe Waxer something for comming him. He’ll have to see what he can do.

For now, though, he just goes back to work on his datapad, feeling warmer than he has for a while.

It’s a few days after Cody spoke with Obi-Wan, and he stands on the balcony of the palace and finds himself nearly eye to eye with a blue holo of Pre Vizsla in full armor, blaster in hand. According to Rex’s Guard, holoprojectors are displaying the same message across the city of Sundari - at least Cody’s people will be well-informed.

“Mandalore has never prospered by sitting idle when we were given an opportunity to act,” Vizsla is saying, tone strident and firm, perhaps a touch cajoling. “I believe Mandalore can be greater, stronger, if we simply choose to take action. If we are weak, others will simply believe they can take advantage of our people, when we should be making strides towards a more powerful Mandalore, not cowering out of the way, hoping to escape a fight. Our people are not cowards.

“I can see a Mandalore that finally takes back its rightful place in the galaxy and sees retribution for the wrongs the Jedi have committed. I have a vision greater than this weak Mandalore we see now. Our combined strength should have led us forward, but it’s held us back thanks to the weak leadership of Clan Fett, and we in Clan Kryze and Clan Vizsla have had enough. We speak for the true sons of Mandalore. We are Death Watch.”

The projected image changes from Pre’s proud face to the symbol Cody and Obi-Wan had found painted on armor pieces on Concordia before blinking out, and Cody sighs slowly and shakes his head, trying to dispel the anxiety tightening in his chest. He comms Rex, asks him to see to it that the holoprojectors are collected so at least there won’t be anymore messages sent out today. Then he asks him to tighten security and be on alert in case of insurgent activity, although he doesn’t necessarily expect anything yet. This feels like a declaration of war, but for the time being, a political one.

Cody looks out over Sundari, at its winding streets, the buildings and people - this is his city, his Mandalore, his people, not Vizsla’s, and he is not weak. Vizsla will learn that, at least, if he thinks Mandalore is his for the taking - Cody will fight for their peace, like his father did before him, whatever it takes.

Chapter Text

Obi-Wan tries to find time to comm Cody - he’s missed the other man more than he probably should admit to - but the war is only escalating, and Obi-Wan is, it seems, needed everywhere. He is, however, able to write up a brief note on how to take care of his plants during his time in the medbay, so at least he can be assured the rest of his plants will survive his absence. (That is, of course, assuming Cody and his people will still be willing to welcome Obi-Wan back after the war is over - if he even has time to balance that with his Council duties.)

He knows the lack of communication shouldn’t bother him - after all, he’s gone the last eight months without hearing from Cody, this isn’t anything new - but for some reason, it rankles more than it did even before. He spends more time tracing his fingers over the woven colors in his scarf, finds himself frequently pulling Riska’s gifted dagger out from his gauntlet and running his thumb over the edge of the blade.

One of the most frustrating things about the lack of communication from Cody continues to be the little to no news coming from Mandalore. He assumes, from the lack of comms, that Cody’s busy with the logistics nightmare that is Clan Kryze leaving the alliance - and maybe, for once, the old adage is true: no news is good news.

Not that he’s ever been in a situation where it does ring true, but he supposes it can’t hurt to be a little optimistic. There’s little enough room for positivity in this war as it is, without him dragging his own negativity into it.

Of course, then, during one of the brief stopover days he’s on Coruscant, transferring injured men to the GAR hospital and picking up fresh troops, he’s called into a briefing room at the Temple, and met with Master Yoda, Mace, Plo, and Kit.

“You sent for me, Masters?” he asks.

“Disturbing news, we have,”  Yoda says, and Kit hits a button on the holotable in the center of the room. The holo that flares to life is indeed, as the Grand Master said, disturbing.

It shows a Republic supply convoy, guarded by several fighters; as the recording plays, several ships come out of hyperspace. Mandalorian ships. They shoot down the fighters and one ship docks with the convoy, and then the holo changes abruptly to a security recording.

“This is all that was transmitted before we lost contact with the ship,” Mace says as a Mandalorian in armor comes into view down a corridor. For a moment the armored figure turns to face the camera fully, and Obi-Wan sees a familiar sigil on the helmet, sharp white standing out despite the blue glow of the holo, and then a blaster comes up and fires and the recording goes dark.

It’s the same symbol he and Cody had seen on the helmets in the Concordian mine. The ‘New Death Watch’, as they’d taken to calling it. Pre Vizsla, making his own private war on the Republic.

Well, Pre and Bo-Katan, now, it seems.

“Your thoughts on this, Master Kenobi?” Plo asks, and Obi-Wan sighs, rubbing at his forehead.

“The insignia on the warrior’s helmet - it belongs to a radical splinter group, a couple of the clans who have broken off from the alliance,” he explains. “They must not intend to hold to Mandalore’s declared neutrality.”

“The Senate doesn’t believe they’re a simple political movement,” Mace says heavily. “They’re lobbying to send Republic troops to invade.”

“What?” Obi-Wan swears under his breath. “Do they want us to be fighting two wars?”

“It’s entirely possible,” Kit says. “Master Kenobi, we need you to go to Mandalore and escort Duke Fett to Coruscant, to plead his case to the Senate. We will inform him of your arrival.”

“Of course, Masters,” Obi-Wan says, bowing his head briefly. “I will take my Commander and a double squadron and depart immediately.”

“Careful, you must be, Obi-Wan,” Yoda warns. “A straightforward matter, this is not.”

Nothing that deals with Mandalore and Cody will ever be straightforward, Obi-Wan thinks. “Understood. I’ll be careful.”

Before he leaves the briefing room, he downloads the holo to his handheld projector.

Apparently, it’s time for him to go home.

~~~

There’s a Republic light cruiser in atmo, and Cody’s hopeful.

He doesn’t think anyone but Obi-Wan would think they could park a cruiser in Mandalorian space without being blasted to hells, and the Guard has informed him that the pilot requesting permission to send down an envoy said they were part of the 212th Battalion of the Grand Army of the Republic, so with luck, that just means Obi-Wan finally gets some time at home. Still, given the nature of the request, Cody decides to wait in the throne room for whoever it is to arrive - it would be slightly awkward if he assumed Obi-Wan was here and it proved to be some other diplomat that Cody wasn’t nearly as eager to see.

Once again, though, as he sits on the throne and waits, he finds himself fidgeting with his coat sleeves and staring at the door, and he tries his level best to tamp down his hope to a manageable level - it wouldn’t do to be disappointed if his visitor wasn’t Obi. It wouldn’t make a particularly good impression.

However, after a few more minutes, during which time Cody manages to keep himself at least reasonably professional, it is Obi-Wan who walks in, in his Jedi robes and a pair of bracers and a small plastoid chestplate that Cody suspects does him little good. He looks tired, Cody thinks, and serious. Slightly behind him is one of the clone troopers, in full plastoid armor painted with a gold-yellow - he has his helmet tucked under his arm, and despite the fact that he’s bald and has a small goatee, the face is still too damn similar to Jango’s and Cody refocuses on Obi-Wan.

Getting off the throne, he straightens his green coat a little and walks down from the dais, smiling and tucking his hands behind his back to keep himself from reaching out to take Obi-Wan’s hand - there’s no need to be overly sentimental. “Hello, Obi-Wan,” he says, warm, a bit relieved. It’s been difficult not hearing from him.

Obi-Wan smiles, too. Cody’s missed his smile more than he realized, and the particular soft blue of his eyes. “Hello, Cody,” he says, then sighs quietly and the smile turns more serious, business-like. “As unfortunate as it is, I’m actually here on business.”

“Ah,” Cody says, trying to ignore the slight twist of disappointment in his throat. It’s something that Obi’s here in the first place, after all. “What sort of business?”

Obi-Wan reaches into a pouch on his belt and procures a small holoprojector, switching it on rather dramatically. It plays a short recording of a Mandalorian warrior fighting, and it takes a second for Cody to spot the Death Watch symbol on their helmet. “This business,” Obi says.

Cody sighs and shakes his head. “Ah yes, you... missed Pre’s announcement. Apparently he has a different vision for Mandalore than I do, and I suppose he intends to prove his is better. What exactly has he done?”

“Attacked a Republic supply convoy,” Obi-Wan says, tiredly. “The Senate is arguing that this proves Mandalore is no longer neutral and they are interested in sending Republic troops here.”

“I expect you explained that the attack was not one of ours?” Cody asks, sharply, suddenly alarmed. If Vizsla is able to threaten their neutrality with one gods-damned saboteur, Cody might have to reconsider how he was planning to deal with Death Watch.

Obi-Wan nods slightly. “I explained as much to the Jedi Council when I was shown the recording,” he says. “I’ve been assigned to escort you back to Coruscant so that you can plead your case directly to the Senate.”

Cody scoffs a little, crossing his arms. “I shouldn’t have to plead my case to anyone. I can send them a statement, certainly, as that attack wasn’t indicative of Mandalore’s stance, but I’ll not be hauled back to Coruscant to restate the position I have already made perfectly clear.” The audacity of them, thinking they can just expect Cody to do as he’s told because they’re concerned about one soldier, and sending him a fekking escort without so much as a by-your-leave.

Obi-Wan, rather predictably, isn’t terribly happy with that reaction - he pinches the bridge of his nose, almost visibly gathering his patience, and says, “The Senate is lobbying to send GAR forces to invade, Cody, I doubt a statement will be enough. If you won’t do it for yourself, at least think of the position that would put me in?”

“That’s hardly my fault,” Cody snaps, then composes himself somewhat, with an effort, and adds, “I should not have to defend myself to the entire fekking Senate on the actions of one damned verd, Obi-Wan, and that should hardly warrant an invasion.”

“I know,” Obi says, tightly, “but what if the Senate decides to invade anyway, Cody? Full-scale planetary invasions are the type of mission they love to send me on, you know.”

“Then I suppose you’d have a decision to make, wouldn’t you?” Cody says, terse, then shakes his head, tucks his hands back behind his back, and grits his teeth. “Never mind, I suppose I don’t exactly have a choice, do I?”

“If you want to keep your neutrality, likely not,” Obi-Wan says, wearily, and Cody sighs heavily and glances at the clone trooper, who looks distinctly uncomfortable.

“I apologize for the somewhat rude welcome,” he says, pulling a genuine smile from somewhere. “I’m Cody Fett, obviously, and you are…?”

“Commander Waxer, sir,” the trooper says, and Cody’s smile grows easier and he nods, politely.

“Excellent, good to meet you properly, Commander, although frankly I would’ve liked better circumstances for it.” He sighs, gestures a little in front of him. “Why don’t you both walk with me, and I’ll explain what’s happened since you left, Obi-Wan.”

Waxer and Obi-Wan agree, so Cody takes Obi-Wan’s arm and they take the palace hallways out to an entrance that leads into Sundari’s streets - it’s been a while since Cody’s been able to just go enjoy the city, so it’s nice to take the opportunity to just walk with Obi. Waxer stays slightly behind them, holding his blaster rifle like he expects someone to come after them any minute, and Cody resists an urge to tell him to relax. He also ignores the civilians who keep giving Waxer startled looks. Cody himself doesn’t know if he’ll ever get used to these soldiers all having his buir’s face.

Sighing, Cody looks around at the neat, clean storefronts and apartments around them and addresses Obi-Wan. “Shortly after we last spoke, Pre decided to make Death Watch’s position very clear. He projected a holo to most of Sundari, as far as we know, and of course it’s spread beyond that - so far, he hasn’t done much, but I’ve been expecting some move like this for a while. Admittedly, I didn't expect one quite this aggressive.”

“He officially claimed the name Death Watch?” Obi-Wan says, concerned.

Cody nods at a passing group of people, glances over at Obi-Wan. “Yes, while denouncing my government, too.”

“That’s… concerning,” Obi-Wan says, rubbing his beard, eyes thoughtful.

“You’re telling me,” Cody huffs. “And it seems this tactic was effective. Still, I expect I can clear this up easily enough.” He had better be able to - he refuses to allow Vizsla’s ploy to so neatly destroy everything he’s been trying to maintain.

Obi-Wan sighs. “I’m sure the Senate will listen to you if you present your case for neutrality to them in person.”

“Yes, one would hope that since they felt the need to summon me to an entirely different system to get my opinion, they’d listen while I was there,” Cody says, dryly, although he personally somewhat doubts that the Senate will believe him. However, it would be to their advantage to believe him, given that that way they would avoid a war with Mandalore.

“So you will come?” Obi asks, somewhat hopefully.

“Again, I have no other acceptable options,” Cody says. He shoves his hands in his pockets and sighs. “But I don’t entirely expect this will help - people aren’t generally ready to believe that Mandalore isn’t going to fight.”

Obi-Wan smiles at him, slightly. “I have faith that you can convince them - you convinced me, after all.”

“You were already aware of the context involved,” Cody huffs, raising an eyebrow. “The Senate is a different beast entirely, I know that much.”

“The Senate is an easy beast to tame if you throw it a bone of conflicting regulations regarding invasion protocols for a technically neutral planet,” Obi-Wan corrects him, winking, nearly glib.

Cody laughs. “Oh, of course, silly me,” he says. “I suspect I could tame it with a few well-placed threats, too.”

As if to emphasize his point, the neat streets in front of them suddenly erupt in an orange flare of fire and smoke, the heat briefly close and intense enough that Cody wants his armor - Obi-Wan snaps an arm out across his chest and ignites his blue saber, face going hard, and Cody draws his blaster, half-notices Waxer readying his blaster rifle behind them.

Cody nods at Obi-Wan, and Obi pulls his arm back and they walk into the smoke to see what’s happened - the blast radius caught some dozen civilians, and Cody pauses to help some of them up, signals at the gathering crowds to stand down - most of them are holding blasters at the ready themselves.

“Death Watch?” Waxer asks, looking around warily.

Cody shrugs. “Possibly.” He coughs a little, covers his mouth to try to help with the smoke, and looks around for a moment. “Kriff,” he says, to himself.

As the smoke clears some, there’s a flicker of light in the rubble of the street, and Cody tenses until an orange holoprojection blinks to life. It’s just the Death Watch symbol again, harsh.

“Definitely them, then,” Cody says, to Waxer, crouching down to help a woman in armor get up - she was near the center of the blast, he thinks, and nods at another citizen to come help her. He supposes he shouldn’t be surprised Vizsla isn’t playing around, here.

~~~

“This doesn’t feel like an assassination attempt,” Obi-Wan says, quietly, flicking a couple fingers and lifting a chunk of debris off a young man. “It’s too… obvious.”

“It reads like a warning, sir,” Waxer says, and Obi-Wan nods in affirmation.

“Agreed,” he says, holding out a hand and tugging on the Force to pull the holoprojector into his hands - he turns it off and offers it out to Cody.

Cody takes the projector, turns it over in his fingers and then tucks it away, nodding. “Yes, I imagine it’s a test, more than anything. To see how I respond.” He turns to face the civilians around them, raises his voice and sharpens it into something even Waxer seems to instinctively respond to. “No one leaves here until the Guard arrives.” The words are in Mando’a, this time.

There’s a shift at the back of the crowd, and then a darker-skinned, dark-haired man at the back of the group takes off running, away from the site of the explosion. Obi-Wan swears, takes off running after him, knows that Cody and Waxer will both be right behind him, saber still in his hand.

Someone shoots from behind him and burns a neat, precise hole in the bomber’s knee; the man stumbles, leg buckling, and Obi-Wan leaps forward, lays his saber across the man’s neck. “You’re coming with us,” he says, in Mando’a.

The man twists his mouth into a sneer, snarls, “Victory for Mandalore!” and lunges up into Obi-Wan’s saber, and even his Jedi-fast reflexes can’t pull the blade back in time. Obi-Wan tries, anyway, swears and drops his saber and goes to his knees by the bomber, fumbles for a pulse, knows already it’s futile. He felt the man’s death through the Force, a brightly-burning star snapping out in an instant.

He’s become far, far too familiar with that sensation.

“Haar’chak,” he mutters, pushes to his feet and calls his lightsaber back to his hand. Cody and Waxer are both there, a couple steps behind him, and he sighs, rubs at his forehead wearily. “He’s dead,” he says, unnecessarily.

“That’s unfortunate. Still, I guess it’s clear enough who he was working with,” Cody says, frustration lacing his voice. Obi-Wan understands the sentiment.

He sighs. “I wish I could’ve reacted fast enough to stop him.”

“You did your best, sir,” Waxer says, not-quite-admonishing, and Obi-Wan rolls his eyes, hooks his saber on his belt and tucks his hands behind his back.

A few members of the Guard come hurrying up, then; they see the body and move to take care of it, and Obi-Wan steps up next to Cody, sighs and rubs at his beard. “We should make the arrangements to return to Coruscant,” he says.

“Yeah, I suppose so,” Cody says with a nod. “I hope you don’t mind coming with me while I inform my advisors.”

“Of course not,” Obi-Wan says. “Waxer, would you inform the squads we’re preparing to leave?”

“Yes, sir,” Waxer says with a casual salute, turning on his heel and striding off, already talking into his wristcomm as he goes.

Obi-Wan and Cody walk back to the palace, and Cody’s advisors meet with them, discussing the governing of the planet for the few days Cody will be gone; Obi-Wan greets them all and mentions that he’s hoping to get a week or so of leave time soon, during which he’d be happy to help them sort out the logistics of all this.

He does not see Jak. That is, he suspects, a good thing.

It’s a couple of hours before everything’s ironed out, but soon enough he and Cody are returning to the docks. Waxer and the two squads with him are standing outside a decently-sized diplomatic ship, one of the few in the Mandalorian Navy.

“Your ship awaits, sir,” Boil says cheekily, walking up with his helmet under his arm. “Is that-”

“Thank you, Boil,” Obi-Wan says, cutting Boil off before the trooper can start asking questions about Cody. “I appreciate your tireless efforts and I’m sure you’ve enjoyed the last two hours of having nothing to do.” He smiles, shakes his head. “Has Anders taken our ship back to the Negotiator?”

“Yes, sir,” Boil says. “He said we should try to stay out of trouble.”

Obi-Wan shakes his head again. “When do I ever get into trouble?”

Cody raises an eyebrow. “Frequently, Obi-Wan,” he says, dryly.

“That business on Concordia doesn’t count,” Obi-Wan informs his husband, quickly. “And no, Boil, I am not furthering the rumor mills by clarifying.”

“He caved a mine in on our heads,” Cody tells Boil with a conspiratorial grin.

That’s a new one,” Boil says, thoughtful. “The last time we left him alone on a planet he ran into a nest of giant spiders.”

“You’ve told that story enough times already, Boil,” Obi-Wan says, steps up onto the ramp and walks inside the ship, Cody at his shoulder, his squads behind him. “I hardly think it bears repeating.”

“You can tell me later, Boil,” Cody says cheerfully, and Obi-Wan sighs and shakes his head.

“In any case,” he says, slightly louder than he needs to, “I hardly think we’ll find any trouble on a diplomatic mission.”

~~~

Cody’s still angry at being summoned to Coruscant, so he distracts himself somewhat from the feeling by introducing himself to a number of the clone troopers and trying valiantly to remember their names based mostly on differences in their armor. He thinks they find it kind of funny - and every last one of them seems thrilled to be meeting him. He’s not sure if it’s because he’s Obi-Wan’s husband or because he’s Jango Fett’s son or a combination of the two, but he’s a bit flattered despite himself. Boil keeps trying to tell him stories about Obi-Wan, whenever Obi-Wan isn’t paying attention, which Cody enjoys. The only small problem is that, as he’d somewhat expected, most of Boil’s stories involve Obi-Wan being reckless and perhaps a little jare’la. Cody tries not to let it bother him unduly - there’s nothing he can do about it, after all, and it’s not his place to try to do anything about it. Still, it makes him worry.

Cody had chosen, after some debate, to wear his beskar’gam until he needed to actually speak to the Senate - although he doesn’t exactly anticipate trouble, the circumstances of the trip and the attempted bombing from earlier have him a bit on edge. In any case, it’s easier to carry his blaster and darksaber with his armor than with his formalwear. And it’s easier to sit with Obi-Wan and talk without feeling like he’s slipping back into too much familiarity - not that he wouldn’t like to, but he doesn’t want to fight, or risk things getting muddled again when they’ve just started talking. So his armor and Obi-Wan’s Jedi robes end up being a quiet reminder that he needs to be careful.

Some halfway through their hyperspace flight, though, Cody is the most grateful he chose to wear his armor, because as he and Obi-Wan are relaxing in a shipboard sitting room, one of the Mandalorian technicians comes to inform them that there are incoming ships, although it’s too soon to tell who those ships are affiliated with - as they move to drop out of hyperspace to take evasive action, word passes along that the attacking vessels are Separatist.

Cody thinks his luck has gotten really gods-damned terrible.

He and Obi-Wan exchange a wordless, understanding look, then vacate their seats and make for the helm of the ship, where pilots and technicians should be plotting an escape route and managing their defenses - this ship has good shields, Cody happens to know, so they should be in decent shape as long as they manage to outrun their attackers soon enough. Cody has no interest in beginning a space battle with the Separatist ships, knows that this sleek diplomatic vessel is not made for a fight, and he has an appearance of neutrality to maintain. Obi-Wan doesn’t even issue any orders over his wristcomm, and for that matter neither does Cody, but the soldiers aboard the ship, clone and Mando’ad alike, are rushing through the corridors in anticipation of a fight, half-oblivious to their Duke and General striding for the helm. Cody can feel the slight tremors in the ship that mean they’re being fired upon, but the shields are clearly holding - he’s concerned, however, that it doesn’t feel as if they’re moving much beyond that. Ideally, the pilots are charting a new course so they can jump to hyperspace without their path being blocked, and they should at least be making what maneuvers they can now. Their shields are good, but not this good.

They take the lift to the top level of the ship, both of them, and Cody taps the keypad to open the door to the command center. It doesn’t open, and Cody hits the button again, this time recognizing the little dull beep that means the door is locked from the inside. Certainly, if there were already hostiles boarding the ship, Cody would expect this maneuver, but he doesn’t like the fact that it’s locked now and he can still feel the whole ship shaking when enemy fire hits the shields.

Cody glances at Obi-Wan, who nods slightly and waves a hand, eyes narrowing, until the panel on the door turns green and the door itself slides open.

There are blaster bolts flying back and forth in the command center, between one man in a pilot’s uniform and two technicians - the rest of the navigational crew is lying either dead or injured on the floor. Cody draws his blaster as Obi-Wan ignites his saber, and the two technicians both dart relieved glances their way as they step into the room.

The pilot, on the other hand, looks furious, and drops behind a bank of navicomputers and fires two shots at the techs; one of them is hit and falls, the other drops into a crouch himself. Obi-Wan is by the two techs in a few strides, saber up and defensive, while Cody starts taking measured shots at the pilot, eyeing the equipment in the room. It’s no wonder their ship is sitting in space, then.

They exchange shots for a while, at an odd sort of stalemate, until Cody ignites his darksaber and risks stepping more into the pilot’s line of fire so he can get a better shot at him. He blocks a few blaster bolts and then takes a shot that buries into a joint in the pilot’s armor, at the hip. He’s about to follow through, take a more deadly shot, when the pilot swears and, in a reckless and unexpected move, vaults over the row of computers and towards the seat at the front of the helm.

Cody and the technician both fire at him, and Obi-Wan lunges forward, but the pilot hits a couple buttons on the control panel and then scorches the board with blaster bolts, just before several bolts burn his back and neck so he cries out and crumples to the floor, half against his pilot’s chair. Then the whole ship reels with the impact of another round of attacks, and Cody realizes that with his abrupt suicidal move, the pilot had turned off their shields.

“Oh kriff,” Cody spits, running over to join Obi-Wan, who’s poking at the keys and trying to get something other than sparks out of the machinery.

“Let me,” the surviving technician says, sharp, and Cody steps back to let him fiddle with wiring and override keys, then turn to the copilot’s controls for a while. It doesn’t seem to do much good - even if it could, the ship’s alarms are beginning to go off, and Cody’s no pilot but he can still see red alerts flashing to life on the monitors around them as their Separatist attackers make another pass at them.

The whole ship rocks and lists violently, then, and Cody steadies himself by grabbing Obi-Wan’s shoulder and bracing his feet far apart on the floor; the technician swears and gestures at yet another flashing red light. “We’re about to lose that damn engine,” he says, bending over the controls and tapping in a series of commands that, as far as Cody can tell, don’t help.

“I assume hyperspace isn’t an option, then,” Cody says, short.

“Not exactly,” the tech says, glances back at them. “I can get us a good burst of speed, maybe, but I don’t know what else to tell you.”

Obi-Wan’s looking at the viewscreen, and at that excellent news, he points at a planet within manageable distance, the surface of which is obscured by stormclouds but not enemy ships, and says, “Use what engine power you have left to land us as safely as you can, there.” Cody nods agreement - given the circumstances, he’d rather be trapped on the ground than out here. “I’ll get in contact with my Admiral and have my cruiser make for our coordinates - we’ll have better luck defending ourselves on the ground.”

“He’s right,” Cody agrees, nodding at the technician, who dropped into the pilot’s chair without further comment. “Get us down there before we lose both engines.” Gods-damned traitor pilot - Cody shoves the pilot’s body away from his former chair and turns to Obi-Wan, gesturing back out of the command center. “I think we’d better update our troops,” he says, wry and tight. He wishes he were surprised this relatively simple diplomatic trip has gone pear-shaped, but really all he can think is this shit again? Maybe he’s getting pessimistic.

~~~

Obi-Wan wishes he was more surprised by the pilot’s apparent treachery, but honestly - the only thing he’s surprised about is that it took this long for something to go wrong. “Cody,” he warns, already tuning his wristcomm to Waxer’s frequency, “you cannot interfere - none of your men can. The Senate doesn’t need more ammunition against your case.”

“I’ll damn well interfere if I think it’s necessary,” Cody says, firm, and Obi-Wan presses a hand into his forehead, briefly.

“So you’re willing to throw away your neutrality so quickly?” he says, a bit of a bite to his voice, and then takes a deep breath, releases the frustration into the Force. “Cody, just think for a minute, please, while I comm Admiral Block.” He doesn’t wait for Cody to answer, just steps a few paces away, adjusts his wristcomm - Waxer is innovative enough to handle himself for a few minutes, and it’s more important to get reinforcements (and an escape route) on the way. “Admiral Block, this is General Kenobi, do you read me?”

“I read you, General,” Block says crisply. “Can I assume you ran into some trouble on your escort mission?”

“You can indeed, unfortunately. I’ll forward you my coordinates - can you please bring the Negotiator here as quickly as you can? It seems one of the pilots was a traitor, and we’ve been caught in a Separatist trap.”

“You seem to be developing a habit, General,” Block says.

Obi-Wan sighs, taps a few buttons to forward his coordinates to the Admiral’s comm. “That’s hardly my fault. In any case, we’re attempting to land our damaged ship on the planet’s surface and defend ourselves against the Separatists until you can arrive. I only have eighteen men with me, so the sooner you’re here the better.”

“I’ll be on my way. Block out.”

Obi-Wan sighs, adjusts his position as the ship shudders around them (another barrage of blasterfire from the Separatist ships, more than likely), comms Waxer with a quick explanation of their situation and tells him to ready the men. “Our primary purpose is protecting this ship and keeping Cody and his men from having to engage.”

“Understood, sir.”

Obi-Wan turns back to the viewscreen as their ship plunges into the storm-tossed atmosphere of the planet, the Separatist ships following them down. Their ship jolts and shakes as it descends through the clouds, lightning sparking out and sending electricity crackling across the controls, causing the technician currently piloting to swear and yank his hands back for a minute. The ship twists and bucks, and Obi-Wan slides into the copilot’s seat without a second thought, grabs the controls and grits his teeth through the shocks.

“You might want to strap yourself in, Cody,” he says absently, nods at the technician. “I’ve never flown anything this size, but I’m familiar with fighters and shuttles - tell me what you need.”

The technician rattles off a list of things and Obi-Wan does his best, and between the two of them they manage to land the ship near a copse of trees. The ship crashes into the trees with the loud crack of wood splitting and a bone-jarring slam, and it’s only the crash webbing in the copilot’s seat that keeps him from going flying.

“Well, that was eventful,” he murmurs to himself, once the ship comes to a rest; he unstraps himself and hurries from the bridge, Cody on his heels. He doesn’t know how long it’ll be until the Negotiator arrives, and if those Separatists followed them down… this could be tricky.

Waxer meets him in one of the corridors, helmet on and blaster in hand. “I sent Longshot and Viper out to scout, General. Do we have an ETA on when reinforcements will arrive?”

“Not yet,” Obi-Wan says, falling into stride beside Waxer and hurrying through the bustle of people in the corridors to the ship’s ramp. “They’re on their way, though. I need you to have the men form a perimeter, scan for droids - we’ll concentrate our forces on whichever side they seem to be attacking from. Tell the men to pull debris from the crash up as cover; I’ll make my way around the ship and do what I can.”

“Yes, sir. I’ll have Longshot report directly to you with his findings.”

“Good.” Obi-Wan strides down the ramp and out into the driving rain, finds himself wishing he had his cloak as the rain splashes into his face and through his robes, blurring his vision. He wipes at his face with one hand, pulls his saber into his other and ignites the blade, holds it up so it casts a blue light over his rain-soaked surroundings.

“I don’t like this,” Cody bites out, through gritted teeth, and Obi-Wan’s sure he can picture the look on his face.

He doesn’t turn to look, though, just continues looking around, noting scattered pieces of durasteel that’d fallen from the ship during their crash. Some of them can be repurposed into a bit of cover for his men, like he’d hoped. He hooks his saber back onto his belt, momentarily, closes his eyes and reaches out to shift the first piece of debris.

“I know,” he answers Cody, after a moment, shifts his focus to the next chunk of durasteel. “But you know you can’t fight, not unless you have to.”

“I am aware,” Cody growls, and Obi-Wan sighs, finishes shifting the rubble and opens his eyes, turns to Cody. His husband is pacing, just a little, a step at a time, back and forth.

“Cody,” he says, quietly, and puts a hand on Cody’s shoulder. “I need you to relax. It’s going to be fine, and you not fighting doesn’t make you a coward.” He presses all his sincerity into his voice, meets Cody’s eyes and holds them.

Cody sighs, looks down, not-quite-slumping. “Yeah, well, it feels like shit.”

Obi-Wan sighs. “I know, and I’m sorry.” He squeezes Cody’s shoulder, gentle, takes a step back and pulls his hand back to wipe the rain out of his face.

Before Cody can say anything else, there’s footsteps from behind, and Obi-Wan spins around to see Viper and Longshot hurrying up, Longshot carrying his sniper rifle in both hands. “Sir, there’s at least three droid transports up ahead, closing fast,” Longshot says, gestures behind him.

“Vulture droids?”

“Not that we could see. We think they’re holding back and waiting to intercept our air support.”

Obi-Wan nods to himself, thoughtful. “That does make things a little easier. Longshot, find yourself somewhere you can snipe; Viper, help Waxer arranged the debris for more cover. I’m going to go take a closer look at our enemy.” Both men salute and hurry off, and Obi-Wan turns back to Cody, briefly, reaches for a smile. “It’ll be alright, Cody,” he says, and then turns and makes for the nearby trees.

He slips through the woods carefully, listening intently and wide open to the Force, careful not to trip over tangled roots, one hand resting on his saber hilt. No more than a hundred meters from their makeshift camp, he rounds a gnarled tree’s twisted, scrabbled trunk and nearly stumbles over a droid transport ship, recently vacated. Kriff.

Obi-Wan backs up, ducks back behind the tree, closes his eyes and listens.

If he’s quiet, he can hear, not far away, the sound of droids clanking through the underbrush; he breathes in, lets the air out, and starts back towards the ship, drawing on the Force to quiet his movements. The droids are already on the move; the longer he stays out here, the more he’s risking his men’s lives.

He makes it back to the ship ahead of the droids, updates Waxer on the situation, quickly, steps up just to the side of the largest of the debris walls they’ve erected, and as the first of the droids emerge from the trees he ignites his saber.

With a roar of sound and a hail of blasterfire, the droids charge.

Obi-Wan twirls his saber around and deflects several bolts back into the droids that fired them, leaps forward from his defensive position briefly to cut through a few droids that’ve gotten too close to their position already. One throws a charge that rolls up against the base of one of the flimsier pieces of durasteel his men are tucked behind, sending the durasteel and his men flying; Obi-Wan swears and rushes over to them, pushes himself to the edges of his speed to catch every blaster bolt fired in their direction until they get up and make for new cover.

They can do this, he thinks. They just have to hold out for a little while.

~~~

Cody knows from experience that battles always feel longer than they are, but knowing doesn’t change the fact that this battle feels like it goes on for ages. Maybe it’s the fact that he’s stuck on the ramp of their crashed ship, hands on his blaster and saber even though he knows he can use neither. His squad of guards is equally restless, but they stay behind him, as ordered. Where they are, they’re largely protected from both the rain and the blasterfire, but that’s not much comfort. Cody loses track of the number of times he tries to force himself to take his eyes and mind off the fight, only to turn back around and stare into the gray landscape like that made it better that he had to stand here and let other people fight for him. He should be fighting, and at the moment it feels like little more than political convenience that’s stopping him, although he’s well aware that he can’t afford - now more than ever - to appear to take sides. There’s more at stake for him and his people than this one fight.

That’s not much comfort either.

And Cody is used to fighting, and close calls, but that also doesn’t keep him from watching Obi-Wan with more worry than he should feel, a tension in his shoulders and his feet planted on the slick metal ramp like he’s planning to run into the fight, because he knows he could make a significant difference in the battle.

But the point is to hold out for evac, not to win a victory, really, so Cody stays put. And of course Obi-Wan is fine without him, fights as well as or better than he always does, and really he isn’t losing so many men, although Cody knows they can’t manage to hold this position long. He just can’t argue himself out of his frustration with the whole thing.

Despite Obi-Wan trying to hold the perimeter they’d created, the greater numbers of droids force them to gradually defend an area nearer and nearer the crashed ship - it’s controlled loss of ground, each time, but things are, as Riska would put it, getting exciting. Code for probably about to crash and burn. Obi-Wan’s saber is just a flash of blue that blurs in the rain, and gods Cody’s almost forgotten how fierce his husband is, how precise and talented. He can see the not-quite-recklessness, though, too, and understands it.

Boil and Waxer talk as if Obi-Wan takes frequent needless risks, but it’s not that. It’s that Obi-Wan is not prioritizing his own safety in the battle, but that of his men, like a good commander should. It makes Cody worry, but really, he would expect nothing else.

Still, as the fighting pushes Obi-Wan and the troops back closer to the ship, Cody’s muscles begin to ache slightly from tension, and it’s damned hard not to jump forward every time Obi-Wan almost doesn’t catch an attack - never mind that it’s always fine.

So Cody stays where he is, even when Obi-Wan snaps his saber out to block a blaster bolt from hitting one of his men and is shot in the shoulder while he’s unguarded, although that has Cody unclipping his darksaber briefly from his belt and settling his thumb over the switch. But one of his own guards says “Sir,” somewhat admonishing, and Cody shifts and puts the weapon back. Obi-Wan recovers from the slip well enough, is fine. Cody makes himself take a deep breath and try to relax.

It’s shortly after that that Cody realizes he hears another sound besides the pounding of the rain and blasterfire, and he steps forward on the ramp and squints up at the sky, through the dark grey of the rain and clouds, and after a moment of listening and trying to tell shadows from each other, he confirms that he’s hearing transport ship engines. A couple of them, if he’s seeing correctly, and so he steps back and tells his guards what he’s realized, sees one of Obi-Wan’s troopers seemingly noticing the transports as well and pointing. This seems to energize them, so for the last ages of fighting before the transports actually come in to land, Obi-Wan and his men actually push the droids back further.

When the transports land, Obi-Wan turns and signals to Cody that they should move - and Cody doesn’t like that either, but that seems to be the gods-damned trend for the day, so he strides down the ramp with his small squad behind him and hurries to the transport, which is military, emblazoned with the Republic symbol and a painting of a mostly-naked Twi’lek dancer. Cody steps into the ship and passes to the back of it automatically, reaching up to hold the overhead straps with one hand while his guards do likewise.

After another tense few moments, Obi-Wan and some of his troops pile onto their transport too, and with a jolt and creak of metal, they take off, and Cody breathes a nearly-premature sigh of relief. As soon as the transport’s flight is steady enough, he lets go of the strap he’s holding onto and squeezes past the other armored troops to get to Obi-Wan, who’s examining the wound in his shoulder with a peeved expression on his face.

“What’d you have to go and get yourself shot for?” Cody asks, gruffly, crossing his arms and raising an eyebrow at Obi-Wan.

Obi-Wan glances at him, no less irritated-looking, and retorts, “Well, it wasn’t exactly my intention, you know.”

Cody reaches over and takes hold of Obi-Wan’s upper arm to take a quick look at the injury himself - he can’t, really, due to layers of wet Jedi robes, but from what he can tell it seems like the wound hasn’t damaged the muscle or joint, it’s just a superficial - and probably deep and painful - injury. Could be worse. Doesn’t mean Cody’s thrilled about it. “You should be more careful.”

“I was being careful,” Obi-Wan sighs. “I just can’t be in two places at one time. Unfortunately.” He reaches over himself and taps his fingers on Cody’s cuirass, raising an eyebrow. “You’re fussing.”

Cody lets go of his arm and shrugs. “Yes, well, that seems like the only helpful thing I get to do today, so you’ll have to excuse me.”

Obi-Wan smiles, slightly, and says, “I didn’t say you had to stop.” He sounds amused, and Cody has an abrupt urge to smooth Obi’s wet hair off his forehead. He almost does, half moves to, then aborts the movement in an awkward shuffle that ends with his arms folded again.

“As if you can tell me what to do,” Cody snorts, shaking his head.

“Oh, I would never dare,” Obi-Wan reassures him, teasingly.

Cody laughs. “No indeed. Not bad out there, anyway, Obi-Wan.”

“Ahh, ‘not bad,’ the compliment everyone strives for.”

“Kriff off, you know what I think of your fighting.” Cody rolls his eyes. Not that he’s said all of what he thinks, but he’s told Obi-Wan he thinks he’s impressive before, so he thinks he can get away with understatement now.

Obi-Wan still seems amused by him. “I suppose I do.”

Cody smiles and settles back in a wide stance so he doesn’t have to hang onto anything for support when the transports land in the Republic cruiser that has so helpfully come to offer them an evac - Cody supposes he’ll have to handle this delicately too. Damn political perception and damn politicians in particular.

Despite what Obi-Wan says, Cody determines to make an effort not to fuss over his injury - after all, it’s minor, and injuries happen. The actual source of Cody’s concern is almost definitely the fact that he so rarely sees Obi-Wan, and he just wants to make sure his riduur is alright, so he’ll stick to his expected role and let Obi’s medic pester him instead.

He’s just glad, at the moment, that most of them are alright and here. Mostly thanks to Obi-Wan, too.

Chapter Text

When the transports settle into the Negotiator’s hangar and the cruiser jumps into hyperspace, a palpable aura of relief settles over Obi-Wan’s troops - and himself, he has to admit. Safely away from the mess, he can let himself relax, smile at his men - Dusty is complaining about his blacks getting wet, Ringer is teasing him about not having his armor on right if the rain got in through the seals. Boil seems to be complaining about the rain messing up the paint on the bracer he got from Waxer - Obi-Wan finds himself skeptical of this claim, since the armor paint is, in theory, waterproof.

“I’m sure you scratched it on something and the rain just got underneath the paint,” he tells Boil, patting the man’s shoulder with a little grin. “It’ll be easy enough to repaint.”

“But it’s Waxer’s bracer,” Boil grumbles. “It’s not the same if I repaint it.”

“I’m certain if you ask Waxer, he’ll repaint it for you,” Obi-Wan says, pulls his hand back and attempts to adjust his soaked robes. There are, on occasion, times he regrets the heavy layers he wears - this is one of them. His tunic is stuck to his skin, chafing uncomfortably underneath his shoulder armor, and his tabard hangs down, pulled towards the floor by the weight of all the water. The fabric under his bracers is, at least, mostly still fine, but even then, it’s hardly comfortable. “There should be extra hot water allotted to your showers - go get cleaned up and take a rest, men, you deserve it.”

A few salutes later, most of the two squads have headed off towards the turbolifts, leaving Obi-Wan with Waxer, Boil, a couple of his own men, Cody, and Cody’s own guards. Obi-Wan walks with them towards the lifts as well, a different set that’ll let them out nearer to the mess. Usually he’d stop by his room first, to shower and change into dry robes, but with Cody here he’d be a poor host to leave Cody alone; and in any case, he wants to spend all the time with Cody that he can. He’s missed his husband.

Before he can make it to the lifts, though, another set opens and Scratch walks out, in his medic’s uniform, a baleful look on his face that Obi-Wan recognizes. “General Kenobi!” he snaps, sharp. “You’re heading the wrong way, I think.”

Obi-Wan grimaces, tucks his arms behind his back as naturally as he can, although the motion makes his injured shoulder twinge. “I’m quite alright, Scratch,” he says, diplomatically. “There’s no need to fuss.”

“Obi-Wan,” Cody says, admonishing, and Obi-Wan turns to look at him, raises an eyebrow.

“What?” he asks. “It’s a very minor burn, I don’t need to go to the medbay.”

“Don’t be difficult, Obi, you need bacta regardless.” Cody’s tone is dry but warm, and Obi-Wan huffs out a sigh, glances at his shoulder appraisingly.

“I suppose I do,” he says, absently tests out the range of motion, feeling for where the pain gets worse. “Alright, then - you’re free to go with Waxer and your guards to the mess or the showers, whichever they prefer, or you can come with me to the medbay if you’d like. We have some ten hours in hyperspace before Coruscant, I believe, so it’s really up to you what you do.” He’s possibly being a poor host by leaving things so open, but…

Scratch is staring between him and Cody like they’ve both suddenly developed a case of blue skin. Odd, that.

“If it’s alright,” Cody says, something unsure in his voice, “I’d rather stay with you for now myself.”

“Of course,” Obi-Wan hastens to assure him. “It’ll be nice to have some time to catch up on what I’ve missed.” He smiles, gives Waxer a nod, and starts off towards the lifts again, a bewildered-seeming Scratch falling in behind him. It’s been too long since he and Cody had time to just talk, what with the war and- everything else before that, and he’s missed their conversations greatly.

~~~

In the medbay, Obi-Wan is directed to sit down on one of the bunks for Scratch’s inspection, and Cody unobtrusively reaches for a thin-framed plastoid chair to drag over to the bunk so he can sit down himself. Scratch neatly cuts Obi-Wan’s drenched robes away from the wound on his shoulder and sets about cleaning and treating and bandaging it, and Cody smiles at Obi-Wan and says, lightly, “That was a shitty time.”

“Well, I don’t know, it could’ve been worse,” Obi-Wan teases, smiling too.

Cody doesn’t entirely agree, although of course Obi’s right - but any situation where Cody could have been fighting would have been better. “Says the one who actually made himself useful,” he points out, not entirely serious. “I got to sit and get wet.”

“Oh, you poor dear,” Obi-Wan says, dryly, and Cody makes a face. “I didn’t know you were made of sugar.” Obi-Wan’s smugly-passive expression is so annoying that Cody briefly considers either smacking him or kissing him, just for some variety, but then his riduur snorts a little laugh and Cody just has to smile instead.

“I don’t know why I talk to you,” Cody declares, mock-irritated, crossing his arms. “You think you’re so damn clever.”

Obi smirks, a bit, eyes sparkling, and brushes his damp hair off his forehead. “You talk to me because I am clever and you like it,” he points out.

Cody fights back a smirk of his own and also ignores the clone medics behind Obi-Wan who are, at this point, only pretending to do their jobs, while their patients gape at Obi too. Cody suspects they didn’t expect this, and frankly neither did Cody. “Alright, riduur,” he says, not entirely regretting the dig when Scratch’s eyebrows shoot up on his head, although he’s much subtler than the clones elsewhere in the medbay - are they really all under the impression Cody can’t see them? “I suppose you’re right, after all.”

“Of course I’m right,” Obi says, smugly, sitting back a little, then wincing a bit as Scratch starts wrapping his shoulder in bandages.

Cody chuckles. “Occasionally you are, I suppose,” he admits, winking.

“Only occasionally?” Obi protests, but he’s grinning. “Cody, I am hurt.”

Cody can think of ways he could make it up to Obi-Wan, but he doesn’t suggest that - he still knows better, after all. “Lucky I brought you to the medbay, then,” he says, dryly.

Obi-Wan huffs, offended-seeming. “I brought myself to the medbay.”

Cody glances at Scratch, catches his eyes, winks, and says, “Sure you did, Obi.”

Obi-Wan, unfortunately, doesn’t seem to find that as hilarious as Cody does, because he just purses his lips and glares while Scratch looks at Cody like Cody has a second head. Cody just smiles to himself and sits back, perhaps a touch smug. Unless he’s much mistaken, Obi-Wan would not have come to the medbay if Cody had not pushed him to. After another moment, Obi grumbles, “You think you’re so clever,” and Cody leans forward with his forearms on his knees and winks again.

“No, I know I am, and I know you’re shit at going to see the medics,” he says, cheerfully. “Do try to keep up, Kenobi.”

“Hardly,” Obi scoffs. “I’m here right now, aren’t I?”

“Yes, because I told you to be,” Cody points out. He’s not wrong, either. Damned riduur was going to go pretend he hadn’t been shot.

“He’s right,” Scratch says, helpfully, tying off the bandage.

That seems to offend Obi-Wan too, and he mutters, “If it’s serious, I always come to the medbay. Eventually.”

“Oh, Obi, you should stop talking,” Cody says, fondly, and pushes himself to his feet, because Scratch is putting away his supplies, so Obi should be able to leave now. “You’re just making yourself sound unwise.”

Obi-Wan stands up too, irritation and amusement mixing in his soft eyes. “I’ll have you know, I am a respected member of the Jedi High Council. That implies a certain amount of wisdom.”

“Not to a Mandalorian,” Cody says, cheerfully, turning and offering an arm to Obi-Wan and trying his damnedest not to laugh too much.

“Well, to a Mandalorian, wisdom seems to be directly tied to how thick your skull is,” Obi-Wan says, as he takes Cody’s arm and they leave the medbay. He reaches up with his free hand and knocks his knuckles lightly against Cody’s head, and Cody shoots a half-hearted glare at him.

“Are you telling me my stubbornness is unwise, Kenobi?” he sighs, rolling his eyes.

Obi-Wan grins. “To a Jedi,” he says, dropping his voice a touch lower, presumably in imitation of Cody’s earlier remark.

“Maybe I should consider that a unique sort of compliment,” Cody muses. “Or maybe you had better say my skull isn’t too thick and I’m really very wise, before I get offended and start an intergalactic incident.” Cody is not, in fact, offended at all - he would be, but he knows Obi-Wan doesn’t think so badly of him, and he’s missed their banter anyway. Obi-Wan can be rude if he wants, Cody can’t make himself mind.

~~~

“A Mandalorian, start an intergalactic incident?” Obi-Wan says, raising an eyebrow, mock-shook. “I never would’ve thought it possible.” He’s careful to keep a teasing lilt to his voice, though, not wanting to insult.

“You may have to reread those Mandalorian histories, Obi,” Cody says dryly, and Obi-Wan rolls his eyes.

“Hardly, Cody. I read through all the interesting ones several times, you know,” he says, suppressing a smile. “But you’re right, perhaps when I get my leave I’ll have to spend it all in the library.”

“Don’t you dare,” Cody says, grumbling, “I’ll have need of your assistance.”

Obi-Wan chuckles, leans a little into Cody’s shoulder as he nudges them towards the lift and the mess. “Oh, you’ve been managing fine without me and this is supposed to be my vacation,” he teases, stops at the end of the corridor and presses the button to open the turbolift doors.

Cody gives him a look, eyes narrowed, and Obi-Wan smiles guilelessly at him as they step into the lift itself. “Oh, I see how it is, Kenobi.”

“Although I suppose I could make some time for politics,” Obi-Wan says, lightly. “If I must.” The lift stops on another level and a newly-cleaned-up Waxer and Boil join them as it shoots downward again, towards the mess.

“If you did,” Cody says, elbowing him in the ribs, “your sacrifice would be greatly appreciated.” He rolls his eyes and Obi-Wan laughs.

“Alright, alright, I know when I’m out-negotiated,” he says, warmly, shaking his head. “You win, I won’t ensconce myself in the library the entire time I’m home, just half the time. Sound like a deal?”

“I suppose that’s acceptable,” Cody says with a small smile, leaning a little closer.

Obi-Wan grins. “Excellent, I’m glad we could come to an agreement.” He pauses, thoughtful, adds, “The trick will be getting Riska and your advisors to agree to it.”

“They listen to me,” Cody says, and Obi-Wan gives him a look. “...most of the time.”

The turbolift doors open before Obi-Wan can answer, and he just shakes his head, leads Cody out into the corridor. “The mess is this way - the food isn’t quite up to the quality you’re used to, but it’s better than field rations.”

“You can say that again,” Waxer mutters, and Obi-Wan snorts.

“I assure you I can deal with it,” Cody says with a chuckle.

“Oh, I’m sure you can, I just thought I’d warn you.” He pulls his arm free from Cody’s (mourns the loss, for a moment, although he shouldn’t) to open the door, holds it so Cody, Waxer, and Boil can step through.

They’re all quiet for a moment as they go about the process of filling plates and finding a table; a few other of Obi-Wan’s men join them as they sit down, and soon the air is filled with a companionable chatter.

Obi-Wan nudges Cody’s side, after a few minutes. “Thank you for letting me handle things, earlier,” he says quietly. “I appreciate it.”

“Sure, Obi,” Cody says with a little smile. “You- were right, that was my best option.”

“I know it wasn’t easy for you,” Obi-Wan says, meeting Cody’s eyes. “Thank you for trusting me.”

Cody holds his gaze for a moment before looking down at his plate. “Yeah, of course,” he says seriously.

Obi-Wan smiles. Things are not- back to normal, not at all, but… maybe with time, it’ll get better. At least they can still banter, and the trust isn’t gone.

~~~

It doesn’t take as long as Cody anticipated it would for the troopers sitting close to him to stop staring at him and get more comfortable - with the exception of one man, that is, who keeps looking at Cody out of the corner of his eye and hasn’t said a word since he sat down, except to the soldier at his right. Cody supposes he’s lucky they’re all chatting at all; he imagines they wouldn’t be this comfortable with another political figure, in part because he knows he wouldn’t be.

He’s mostly quiet, himself, and eats his dinner. He’s learned it’s better, in a new situation, to listen and learn before he gives much input. Even though there’s nothing serious happening, here, Cody isn’t familiar with the way things work, so he tries to keep himself to himself. It’s enough to be sitting by Obi-Wan, not worried for the time being about how much between them is left unsaid.

It starts to rankle, a bit, though, when the troops return to the topic they seem to think Cody needs to hear about most - it’s partly funny, partly strange, how they keep bringing up Obi-Wan’s recklessness and then glancing at Cody as if waiting for his input. This time, it’s the trooper that Obi-Wan was defending earlier when he was shot; he was introduced to Cody as Elek and he seems to have a great many opinions.

“Not that I’m not grateful,” Elek explains, shaking his head and waving his hands for emphasis, “but you keep being careless like that, sir, and you’re gonna get killed. All due respect.”

Cody’s noticed that Elek tends to add “all due respect” to the ends of half of his sentences, as if that makes up for the fact that nine times out of ten he’s just been rude. It’s amusing, reminds Cody of Rex, a little.

He bites back an argument that Obi-Wan wasn’t exactly being careless and lets Obi-Wan speak for himself.

“We’ve discussed this, Elek,” Obi-Wan sighs. “It’s not being careless; if anything I’m being careful. Of your lives.”

Cody snorts a little. His husband is a natural diplomat, the way he avoids the issues of a conversation in favor of wordplay and pedantics.

“Yeah, well you being ‘careful of us’ is going to get you killed,” Boil points out, dryly, taking a bite of a layered dish of some kind that Cody hasn’t had the courage to eat any of yet himself. “We appreciate it, sir, but at times maybe it’s…” Waxer gives Boil a tired look, and Boil sighs and says, “excessive.”

Obi-Wan and Cody both frown, and Cody glances between his husband and the men sitting around the table, noting that all of them are nodding, or at least shrugging a bit in agreement. Cody doesn’t entirely know what to think.

“We’ve been over this as well,” Obi-Wan says, raising an eyebrow. “How many times do I have to tell you that your lives are of equal worth to mine?”

“We weren’t saying they’re not,” Waxer says, politely, “just that- objectively, sir, it doesn’t make sense for you to take undue risks every time one of us is in danger. I’m glad Elek’s alright, but we did train for this and it’s our responsibility to fight for you.” Waxer looks sheepish, as if he doesn’t particularly want to be having this conversation, but he’s determined.

It takes real effort for Cody to keep his mouth shut - he reaches for his cup of water and takes a long sip. No one here needs to hear his opinion on this issue; Obi-Wan knows it and these troopers won’t be helped by knowing that Cody thinks their positions are deplorable.

Obi sighs, rubbing his beard. “And as your General, it is my responsibility to keep as many of you alive as I can. If that means risking myself for any of you, I’ll put myself between you all and danger at any time.”

“All due respect,” interjects one of the other men, a technician named Click, “but according to our training, the opposite is true. Our duty is to the Republic and the Jedi, that’s just how it’s supposed to be, and you make it kind of hard.” He smiles, a bit, shrugging.

Cody purses his lips, shakes his head, and sighs. It can’t hurt too much to offer his opinion. “Actually, if I could interject,” he says, firmly, “the duty of any good leader is to serve and respect the people they lead, regardless of personal cost. As much as it is your responsibility to protect him, it’s his to defend you.”

The clones around him seem a bit uncomfortable, shift a little, and after a moment, the clone who’s seemed rather star-struck the whole time and who hasn’t introduced himself yet says, “Well, sir- No offense, sir, you’re right, obviously, but- It’s not the same, for us. We- Well, sir, we are more expendable, you know.”

Cody folds one hand into a fist against the top of the table, slowly letting out a breath to hide a small surge of anger. “I don’t put much stock in that particular point of view,” he says, mildly, although there’s a sharp edge that he can’t erase from his voice. “And for that matter I’m certain my riduur does not either, so my argument stands.”

Obi-Wan nods, pointedly. “Regardless of what the Kaminoans have said, you are not units, and I do not regard you as such.”

“We know, sir,” Waxer says, hastily, although Cody isn’t entirely sure they do know, “but-” He stops, shakes his head, and takes a bite of his meal, seeming at a loss.

Cody looks down for a moment, collecting himself, then says, very seriously, “Whatever you think of Obi-Wan’s priorities as your General, I would not- respect him as I do if he was not so protective of his men. However,” Cody adds, somewhat to ease the seriousness of what he’s just said, “I am not licensing him to skip out on visiting the medbay just because he thinks his excuse is acceptable.”

They’re all looking at him with varying, identical expressions - if Cody had seen that look on his buir’s face, he would’ve called it vulnerability. Surprise, too, and both of those things masked by what should have been good attempts at control.

Obi-Wan pouts at him a little, evidently offended, and huffs, “I was not making excuses.”

“Obi-Wan, making excuses is your speciality,” Cody says, dryly, and lightly nudges him. “Unfortunately, I have two vod’ike and a good banthashit detector.” Both of which have actually been invaluable to his political career.

“No, Cody,” Obi corrects him, smugly, “my specialities are, in no particular order: sarcasm, Sith Lords, and irritating my poor troopers.”

“That last one’s the main one,” Boil mutters, into his cup.

Cody snorts. “You’ve forgotten ‘irritating your poor husband,’ Obi-Wan. And excuses, you can’t omit that one just because you’d like us all to forget about it.”

The troopers around them seem to have moved past the uncomfortable solemnity of a moment prior in favor of watching Obi-Wan and, Cody supposes, Cody himself, with avid interest. Cody half wants to tell them they can stop gaping, now, it won’t get much more interesting than this, given the fact that he and Obi… have barely gotten back on speaking terms. But he doesn’t mind, anyway, because really he’s not the one that’s going to get teased over this, and it’s better than all of them being tense.

~~~

“And negotiating, did I mention negotiating?” Obi-Wan adds, lifting a finger as though to stop Cody. “They do call me the Negotiator now, you know.” And then his men had decided to name their cruiser after that slightly-ridiculous title. At least, he supposes, it’s easy enough to remember.

Though Cody’s certainly not correct in stating that Obi-Wan’s good at excuses - they’re not excuses if they’re perfectly legitimate reasons, after all - he supposes the former half of his statement is true. Obi-Wan has done a rather good job at upsetting his husband, from the ill-advised kiss to leaving for the war before Jango’s funeral.

“I had noticed that, and frankly I’m not the slightest bit surprised,” Cody says, dust-dry, raising an eyebrow and glancing a bit pointedly around the table.

“I’d be embarrassed if you were, quite frankly,” Obi-Wan says. “You’ve known me for long enough now, you know where my skills lie.”

Boil makes the kind of face that Obi-Wan has learned means he’s plotting something, Gadget elbows Kato in the ribs, and Elek turns an interesting shade of pink, though he looks quite intrigued. Hang-up, sitting quietly by Click, buries his face in his hands - Obi-Wan finds he rather wants to emulate the man.

Force, are they incapable of taking anything he says regarding Cody in the tone it’s meant to be?

Cody’s raising his eyebrows, likely at the antics of his insufferable troopers, but he doesn’t address their behavior, just says, “Yes, Obi-Wan. And that’s how I know that making excuses is exactly in your line.”

“You’re oversimplifying,” Obi-Wan states. “It’s not an excuse if there’s a legitimate reason behind it.”

“Wrong,” Cody says firmly. “That just makes it a better excuse.”

Obi-Wan sighs, long and drawn-out. “My dear Cody-” Wait, no, that wasn’t- He blushes a little, grimaces and attempts to move on, despite the fact that Boil looks like a tooka with a bowl of cream, grinning over at him. Force, Obi-Wan needs to get himself back under control - the euphoria of not seeing Cody in months is making him lax, and he cannot do this to Cody again, let him think that- well. “That turns it from an excuse to a reason.”

Cody shakes his head, sips at his drink, staring at it as though it holds the secrets of the universe. “Keep telling yourself that.”

Obi-Wan snorts, scoops up the last couple bites of his dinner and finishes it, garnering a nod of approval from Waxer - for some unfathomable reason, the man has taken it upon himself to be Obi-Wan’s keeper, as though Obi-Wan cannot be trusted to eat and sleep on his own. Honestly, he’s an adult and he’s perfectly capable of handling himself. “Cody, while you’re here, there’s a few things we should discuss - if you’re finished eating, I can show you to my office so we can talk?”

Cody pauses for a moment, then nods. “Alright, certainly.”

“Talk my shebs,” Gadget mutters under his breath, just loud enough for Obi-Wan to hear, and Obi-Wan levels the tech with his sternest glare, catches everyone at the table doing the same.

“Gadget,” Waxer snaps, in his Commander voice, “you’re on KP.”

Cody, Obi-Wan notes when he glances over, is also glaring.

Obi-Wan lets his Commander handle the utterly unapologetic tech, just stands and collects his tray, nudges Cody to indicate he should follow, and winds his way through the tables and benches and men to the garbage chute and the area for their dirty dishes. Drops his stuff off and waits for Cody to do the same, then tucks his hands behind his back (in part to stifle an entirely irrational urge to reach over and take Cody’s hand, lace their fingers together and feel the warmth of Cody’s palm against his), grimaces as his still-damp clothes chafe beneath his armor and send a chill down his back. He needs to change and shower, but, well- Cody’s here, and he doesn’t want to take the time.

“If you’ll come with me,” Obi-Wan says, glances at Cody for confirmation.

Cody just nods, and Obi turns and starts out of the mess, makes for the turbolift and presses the button for the level his office is on. “I’m sorry about Gadget,” he sighs. “He has a- tendency to say whatever comes into his mind without thinking. Usually that doesn’t manifest in such a… disrespectful way.”

“Oh, it’s alright,” Cody says with a shrug.

The turbolift speeds upwards and stops on the right level, the doors opening, and Obi-Wan steps out with a sigh. “I expect Waxer will deal with him appropriately now that we’re not there.” He pauses for a moment, beckons down the corridor before tucking his hands behind his back again. “My office is this way - I thought we could discuss Mandalore’s current political situation, so that I’m up to date when I come back for leave.”

~~~

Cody pretends not to be slightly disappointed that they’re just going to talk about politics, because perhaps that’s for the better, and in any case it’s preparation for Obi-Wan to come home. So he just nods and follows Obi-Wan to his office, which is small and grey, consisting only of a wide, solid desk, two chairs, and a few items like a holodisk for the sorts of things Cody is sure Obi-Wan has to do regularly to command his troops. Cody adjusts one of the chairs so he can sit close to the desk, and Obi-Wan sits down in his usual seat in front of his desk.

Cody does not entirely mean to leave anything out, in his report to Obi-Wan. It’s in the interest of fairness, however - Obi-Wan has not been on Mandalore, and to concern him with the actual state of things lately would be unreasonable. So although Cody is honest, explains to him about the Death Watch’s recent comments, about the rumbles of disagreement among the people of the clans, he does not admit how it has worried him, or how uncertain he is.

“At the moment, I’m not concerned so much about the possibilities of other factions arising in the alliance,” Cody says, which is not quite true. “But just between us, of course - Pre Vizsla has the potential to become a real threat. His rhetoric is very appealing to my people, even if it’s a bit obvious.” Vizsla was already a real threat, in truth, with those arguments. Cody refusing to fight today could prove to be an entirely different form of ammunition, too - look how weak he is, Vizsla could say. Not even fighting to help his riduur.

Better than the Senate trying to use his participation in a fight to say he had chosen a side. But still not appealing.

Obi-Wan’s eyes have that thoughtfully distant look they get whenever he’s trying to work out a problem, and, rubbing his beard, he says, “We’re going to have to find a way to do something about him, or he could very easily accomplish his goals.”

“Yeah,” Cody says, without thinking, “We’ll have to do that.” Because dealing with Mandalore’s problems has been a real team effort lately. Then he cringes and rubs his forehead, realizing too late that was a shit thing to say when the whole point of this conversation is so Obi-Wan can help when he is around. “I’m sorry,” he says, tiredly, shaking his head. “That was unfair of me.”

“No, it’s alright,” Obi-Wan says, politely, his eyes going more flat and guarded. “I shouldn’t say we when I’ll hardly be around.”

“That’s not- I didn’t mean it,” Cody protests, then shakes his head, because it hardly matters if he meant it, because he still said it. “I’m sorry,” he repeats. “I just- wish you were around more.”

Obi-Wan looks no more relaxed than before, and just sighs and nods. “I know,” he says, “and I’m sorry - I’ll do my best, and we can still talk over comms.”

“I know, that will help.” Cody looks down, wishes he could just watch how he talks. He doesn’t want to make things tense when the two of them are actually together again - this was part of the reason he hadn’t been comming Obi, for fear they might fight again. But he can’t just not talk to his husband - it would almost be better to fight again than for Obi-Wan to just close off or for them to go back to not comming.

Obi-Wan sighs again. “I can sit in on meetings via holo, as well, if we coordinate planning them for when I’m not on campaigns,” he says, and Cody frowns.

“Obi, you’re barely able to comm me as it is,” Cody says, a touch scolding. “You don’t need to try to join a bunch more meetings, we have a lot lately.”

“So I’ll join the ones I’m able to,” Obi-Wan says, calmly.

Cody shakes his head, determinedly, making a decision. “No, you won’t,” he says, firm. “I don’t want you around more so you can do things for us, I just miss you because you’re part of my family, Obi-Wan.” He feels sheepish, admitting it, but it’s true and he doesn’t like that he seems to think Cody’s upset because he isn’t around to help, when that has very little to do with it in actuality.

Obi-Wan just looks completely startled and bewildered, for a moment, then says, “Oh,” as if that had really never occurred to him before. Cody feels a bit guilty - he should have at least made that clear, before, but again, they haven’t exactly been talking. “I’d still like to help how I can, Cody,” Obi-Wan says, with a noticeable effort at seeming less surprised.

“Of course,” Cody says, dryly, “and I’m saying that comming in for everyday meetings would be ridiculous. Maybe if something really serious happens, but you clearly have more than enough on your plate.” He takes a deep breath, shakes his head, glances away. “Enough priorities to juggle, certainly.”

“I can handle one more,” Obi-Wan says, wryly, the dear idiot. “I did sign up for this, after all.”

“That was before you had half an army to command and joined the Jedi Council.” Cody folds his hands in his lap, eyes his knuckles a bit. “I mean it, Obi-Wan, don’t worry about the meetings and things.” After all, that was what he wanted to begin with, for Obi-Wan not to be anxious about what he couldn’t control.

Obi-Wan sighs, nods. “Alright, but only if you promise to keep me updated.”

“Of course,” Cody promises, and smiles. “I wouldn’t want you to miss out on anything our dear friend Pre does.”

“Of course not.” Obi-Wan chuckles, warm, a comfortable sound. “And I have to know about Boba’s pranks, as well.”

Cody sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose exasperatedly. Boba’s not played as many pranks since Jango died, but over the past month he’s started leaving weird slugs on Cody’s chair again, or convincing the cooks to put suspicious things in his dinner. It’s good, in one way, but if Cody has another damn pair of pants ruined by something Boba pranked him with, Cody’s going to lock him in his rooms for a week. “I suppose I’ll tell you those, too,” he grumbles. “Although if Boba finds out, he’ll never stop pranking me.”

“Oh, wouldn’t that be terrible,” Obi huffs, but there’s a mischievous sparkle in his eyes.

“I don’t trust you,” Cody says, pointing at him lightly, smiling. Gods, he misses Obi-Wan being home with him, he misses dinner with him and his brothers, misses things being, if not all that he wanted, still good and companionable. “My brother’s enough of a terror without encouragement.”

“Who said anything about encouragement?”

Cody huffs. “No one, but if he finds out someone’s getting reports of his pranks, he’ll never let me sleep again.”

“I shall endeavor to make sure he doesn’t hear about it, then,” Obi promises, cheerfully.

They talk for a bit longer, about the politics, and some about Rex, and the advisors - Cody briefly mentions how they’re all handling Jango’s loss, now that it’s been long enough he can think about it, talk about it without getting upset. He tells Obi-Wan he doesn’t get as sad anymore, which is mostly true. It still hurts so bad, but it’s not overwhelming anymore.

He doesn’t let them talk about that for long.

They don’t talk much about anything pertaining… them, personally, either, because that’s still uncomfortable, a minefield, so when their important topics have dwindled and they find themselves in an awkward, tense silence, Cody asks if he could have a space to work on his arguments for the Senate. He is installed in another office, with those of his guards who aren’t with Obi-Wan’s troops, and he works on his datapad for the remaining hour or so of their flight to Coruscant. He’s not really sure what he’ll tell the Senate that will convince them, when everyone has always been so determined to believe that Mandalore can do nothing but fight. He has to find a way all the same, though, because he’s not letting fekking Pre Vizsla decide how his system is going to be run.

~~~

By the time they make it back to Coruscant, Obi-Wan’s had time to shower and change into dry robes; he trims his beard and brushes his hair into neatness and grabs a cloak, tossing it on as he leaves his room. Cody’s being escorted to the Senate building by his guards, to plead his case to the Senate, and Obi-Wan himself needs to report to the Council about the Separatist ambush. Cody’s been set up with a guest suite in the Temple itself - he knows that a couple of the Mando guards have been tasked with taking Cody’s armor and the rest of his things there. Obi-Wan would escort them himself, but the Council has gathered on his behalf and he cannot keep them waiting.

He leaves Waxer with orders to organize the battalion, exchange the wounded from the escort squads for fresh troops and keep everyone on standby, and makes his way to the Temple. Nods greetings at those he passes, keeps his hands tucked in his robe as he climbs to the Council chamber itself, steps through the double doors with a nod for the Temple guards stationed outside.

“Welcome back, Master Kenobi,” Mace says when Obi-Wan walks inside, towards his seat. “We heard you had quite the eventful trip.”

“Indeed,” Obi-Wan says with a sigh, flexing his injured shoulder appraisingly and then grimacing at the slight twinge of pain. “It appears that the Death Watch movement on Mandalore is allied with the Separatist cause, though I do not know what they hope to gain. Power, perhaps. At least one of the flight crew on Cody’s ship was a traitor.”

“Disturbing,” Plo says, voice crackling through the holocomm. “Where is Duke Fett now, Obi-Wan?”

“He should be presenting his case to the Senate shortly,” Obi-Wan explains, glances around the room, gaze ending on Mace and Yoda. “I took the liberty with setting him up with a set of diplomatic quarters here in the Temple, as I expect the vote will take a few days to finish.”

“Appropriate, this is,” Yoda says with a nod. “Offer him hospitality, we will, since the ones who called him here, we are.”

They talk for a while longer on the Separatist trap, and the implications a Death Watch alliance with the Separatists could have in terms of the war, before moving on to other concerns. They’re halfway through discussion of plans to safeguard the construction of a new clone base on a newly-captured planet when his comm pings.

It could be from Waxer, about the battalion, or Anakin wondering why Obi-Wan hadn’t let him know he’s back on Coruscant.

Or it could be from Cody.

“I’m sorry,” Obi-Wan says, nodding at the Councillors sitting around him, “I need to see what this is. If it’s nothing serious I’ll dismiss it and we can continue.”

“Of course,” Shaak Ti says, her holoprojection flickering for a moment as she shifts. There are similar nods coming from around the circle, so Obi-Wan sighs and opens a comm channel.

Before he can say anything, Cody’s voice crackles from his wrist. “Obi-Wan?” he says, impatiently, and Obi-Wan frowns a little.

“I’m here, Cody, what is it? I’m in a Council meeting, so- is this important?” He makes the switch to Mando’a easily - he doesn’t think Cody would appreciate his business being broadcast around the Jedi Council.

“I need to talk to you right now,” Cody snaps, also in Mando’a, and Obi-Wan sighs, pinches the bridge of his nose.

“If you’ll excuse me for a moment,” he tells the Council, gets up from his seat and moves to the doors. “Alright, what do you need?”

“I got kicked out of the Senate,” Cody growls. “Or I guess I kicked myself out.”

“What?” Obi-Wan pushes through the double doors, frowning and furrowing his brows. “How- What did you do?”

He’d thought the point of this trip was to convince the Senate not to send troops to Mandalore, not antagonize them into sending them.

“Apparently I ordered a Separatist attack on my own damn ship. You should hear the recording, I was almost convinced myself.” Cody sounds furious, and honestly, Obi-Wan doesn’t blame him.

“Someone’s trying to pin this on you? But-” Obi-Wan frowns, considering. “Why would Death Watch want a Republic invasion of Mandalore? That wouldn’t help their goals any.” Unless… but no, that wouldn’t make sense. A Republic invasion of Mandalore would be a bloodbath, it wouldn’t end well, and it wouldn’t even necessarily make Cody appear weak. He sighs. “There’s an entrance to the Temple in the lower levels. Send me your current position and I’ll come find you and slip you in through there, and we can make plans.”

“Fine, okay,” Cody growls (and Obi-Wan can almost feel his anger, despite the fact that they aren’t anywhere near close enough for him to feel the Force moving around Cody), rattles off an address.

Obi-Wan sighs.

Ah, well - at least this Council meeting wasn’t discussing anything vitally important.

Chapter Text

Cody’s been to only one Senate meeting before, and although he didn’t find it enjoyable, it wasn’t nearly as disastrous as this last meeting has turned out. It started well enough, he supposes - the Senate has always been long-winded, pedantic, and so Cody let them meander their way through half a dozen irrelevant issues before they turned to him and asked him to explain his position.

Of course, he never got the chance - some clever bastard came forward with a vital piece of evidence, a sound clip that they swore proved that Cody had conspired with the Separatists. And it was a damned good lie, too - they played the recording, seemingly from the bridge of the diplomatic cruiser, of Cody giving a signal for the Separatists to move on his ship. Cody didn’t get much of a chance to explain, which he supposes would make sense had he actually done what they’re accusing him of - no use giving him a chance to try to get out of it, they think they know how a Mandalorian would react. In any case, they’d attempted to escort him out, and Cody’s guards had done the honors themselves - Cody thinks they’re almost as pissed as he is.

Cody should have some HUD footage from his helmet that’ll show the recording is banthashit, if he can actually fekking get to it and get back into the Senate chambers to display it, which won’t be easy given they apparently believe he’s currently at war with them.

If the Republic invades Mandalore, it’s going to be hells. Cody has no interest in fighting the Republic, despite the fact that he could, and would if he had to. He doesn’t want to kill these cloned soldiers, with his father’s face, who don’t seem to understand their worth and who Obi-Wan defends so carefully. And he still cannot allow his people to be embroiled in yet another pointless war. So he won’t allow this damned Senate to send troops to invade his planet. Not if he can do anything to stop them.

His guards are getting restless by the time Obi-Wan arrives, on a speeder and shrouded in his brown Jedi robes. He climbs out of the speeder and walks over to Cody, smoothly pushing his hood back, revealing a small, worried frown and concerned blue eyes.

“If you’ll come with me, Cody, it’ll be safer to discuss this inside the Temple,” Obi-Wan says, briskly, without preamble. Cody nods quickly, notes that his guards appear a bit more comfortable now. “Are they trying to apprehend you?”

“I’m sure,” Cody says, dryly, “but I haven’t seen any signs of it, if they are.” He walks with Obi-Wan back towards his speeder, resting his hands on his belt. “I need my helmet, and I need to be able to get back into the Senate before they vote.”

“I can help you with both of those,” Obi-Wan says, nodding firmly.

As they all get in the speeder and start upward through the levels, Cody decides the Senate must be trying to keep their supposed antagonism with Mandalore a secret, because there isn’t really any noticeable sign that anyone might be looking for Cody and his guards, despite the fact that if they believe he’s an enemy now, they won’t have reacted well to his… excusing himself from the Senate meeting. It would be worse to concern the public. So for the time being, they have some space to maneuver - enough to get them safe back to the Temple, he thinks.

He ends up being correct, although probably only because of Obi-Wan’s back way in - it’s a service entrance for deliveries of food and supplies, and Cody catalogues the way there and the fact that Obi-Wan uses the Force to unlock it, even though likely won’t end up mattering.

Cody’s guards are far tenser than he is (which is saying something) as they ease through the halls to their new set of rooms. Obi-Wan has apparently not explained the situation to the Council, and Cody saves his own, more detailed description for when they’re safely in their rooms and away from threatening eyes and ears.

“I’m sure you’ll get to see the recording yourself,” Cody says, heavily. “But I needed my HUD, it should have footage of the ship’s control room - frankly, I might need your witness, too, Obi-Wan.” Anything to make it as clear as possible that he didn’t do anything, especially after he walked out on the meeting.

Gods, they’re probably voting right now.

“Anything I can do to help, just let me know,” Obi-Wan tells him, and Cody smiles slightly.

“Thank you, I’ll keep that in mind.” Cody lifts his helmet from where he’s stacked his armor, eyeing it for a moment before feeling around inside the visor of the helmet for the little ridge that was a small memory chip - mostly helmet recordings weren’t needed, but they were useful if you were on a scouting mission or if you wanted to look back at something from a fight. He pulls it out, eyes it a moment, then turns to Obi-Wan. “Right now, I need a holoprojector.”

“Here, you can borrow mine,” Obi says, reaching into a pocket and passing over a small handheld disk, and Cody takes it and plugs his memory chip into the projector, setting it down on the table in the suite’s kitchen area and pressing a couple buttons to project the memory files for him to choose from.

When he works out what he thinks is the correct timestamp, he selects it, let’s it play for a moment - the view of himself and Obi-Wan running down corridors and bursting into the cockpit already in an uproar and the resulting fight.

“If this isn’t enough,” he says, pressing buttons to download most of the memory files from the chip to the holoprojector, “I’d be willing to let the Senate go through relevant recent files.”

“I’m concerned about how to get you into the Senate without you being arrested,” Obi-Wan says, and Cody considers the problem for a moment as he passes over the holoprojector.

“I don’t have to get into the Senate, just this evidence does,” he points out, an idea dawning. “Maybe I should get arrested.”

~~~

“What are you thinking?” Obi-Wan asks, tilting his head to one side, considering. “I don’t see how your being arrested would help anyone - why don’t I just take the footage to the Senate myself?”

“I’m not sure they’ll just let you in,” Cody says. “Maybe I’m wrong, but since you’re my husband and they may be arguing the vote, or even voting, they might not let you through.” His tone turns thoughtful. “But if they didn’t notice you because they were arresting me, well.”

Obi-Wan nods, understanding. “And once the footage proves you’re innocent, they’ll have to let you out.” It’s a solid plan - he doesn’t exactly trust Chancellor Palpatine, but he’s fairly certain the Chancellor will listen. He at least maintains the appearance of trusting the Jedi and valuing their input, even if his constant broadcasts to the public seem to indicate contrary feelings.

“That’s what I’m thinking,” Cody says with a nod. “And if it backfires, I figure it won’t be too hard to get me back out anyway.” Despite the wryness in his voice, his eyes are serious.

Obi-Wan smiles. “Don’t worry, breaking people out of prison happens to be another of my specialties.”

“How did you learn that?” Cody asks, eyeing him dubiously.

“Oh, well.” Obi-Wan waves a hand. “Incidents happen, you know, and you’re familiar with Anakin. There was actually a time that Anakin and I were imprisoned with Count Dooku, earlier in the war - a pirate captured us. It was a little embarrassing, to be quite frank.”

“Yes, I imagine it would be. A pirate, Obi, really?” Cody says, wryly amused.

Obi-Wan huffs. “Listen, Cody, he captured Dooku and ransomed him to us, only to drug Anakin and I both while we were there. It’s not my fault I went into the deal in good faith.” And technically, he’d been expecting a trick - Hondo just had had the edge, is all. It’s a mistake he won’t make again.

Cody snorts, says, “That is exactly your fault.”

“It’s really not,” Obi-Wan defends, “We were prepared - I still don’t know how he managed to drug us.”

“Well, at least it’s given you practice escaping from prison.”

If Cody’s voice gets any dryer, Obi-Wan thinks it might crack. “In any case,” he says, firmly changing the subject, “don’t we have a Senate vote to stop?”

“Damn right we do.” Cody nods, firmly, and Obi-Wan glances briefly down at the holoprojector in his hand.

It’s crucial this reaches the Senate before the vote is finalized.

He and Cody make it to the Senate in longer than it really should take, but given the increased need for secrecy, it’s not a surprise. Still, Obi-Wan’s concerned that they’ll be too late - if the vote has already gone through, it might be too late.

When they arrive near the front of the Senate, Cody walks directly up to the shock troopers guarding the entrance, offering his hands out and saying something Obi-Wan can’t hear at this distance; whatever he says, it garners all of their attention, and Obi-Wan weaves the Force around him (I am not here, I am not important, don’t look at me) and slips past the guards, into the main Senate building.

He needs to find the Chancellor.

He finds Palpatine in his office, staring out the large bay window, seeming deep in thought, though he turns when Obi-Wan walks in. “Master Kenobi,” he says, looks surprised. “What can I do for you?”

Obi-Wan inclines his head in a semblance of a bow. “Chancellor Palpatine, I have important evidence for the Senate, in regards to the issue of Mandalore’s neutrality. The voice recording played earlier was faked - this holoprojector contains video recording from Duke Fett’s HUD at the time of the Separatist attack on our ship.” He pulls the holoprojector from his pocket, offers it out on his palm.

Palpatine takes it, nodding to himself. “We were concerned about the safety of Mandalore, and the chance of it declaring war on the Republic, so the vote has already gone through - however, the Senators should all still be here. I can call an emergency session to review this new evidence, and call for another vote.”

The Chancellor looks- annoyed, Obi-Wan thinks. Likely because a war on Mandalore would be a good excuse to nudge the Senate into either voting him more emergency powers or funding more clones, or both. “It would be appreciated, Chancellor,” he says, bowing deeply. “I think everyone will appreciate the extra attempt to ensure we aren’t invading a warrior planet unnecessarily.”

“Of course,” Palpatine says. “Thank you, Master Jedi. If you’ll excuse me…?”

Obi-Wan nods, turns to make for the door. “Thank you,” he says, although the politeness rankles.

Hopefully, hopefully, this works.

~~~

Being arrested is extremely irritating. Half of the indignity of it, Cody decides, is having to sit in a room that’s not being called a cell but is one and having no idea what’s going on. He trusts Obi-Wan to get the evidence to the Senate, but despite his belief that it’ll be enough, the Senate may not see it that way.

He supposes if his guards burst into the room in a few hours to get him out, he’ll know whether it worked or not.

He busies himself making mental contingency plans, for if this goes wrong, and sits quietly with his hands folded in his lap. He’d rather be pacing, or doing something useful, or scrolling a datapad even, but he makes himself stay as relaxed as he can manage. At this point, he’s done the best he can - he can’t do anything to control the damn Senate, so no point worrying. Although of course he can’t entirely help it.

Still, after a couple hours of sitting, Cody ends up getting to his feet and pacing anyway. Surely he should have heard something by now. Anything at all. If the Senate had declared war on his people, his guards would have come to break him out, possibly even Obi-Wan would help (although then again, likely not, as Obi has other loyalties lately). But maybe they can’t get to him - he’s counting on the law enforcement here having underestimated them, or at least not being strong enough to stop his guards if need be, but maybe he’s been a fool and underestimated them.

But no, if that vote had gone through, someone would be here to tell him so. More likely, it’s just taking a long time to get things cleared up and go through the footage from his helmet.

Sure enough, after a while longer of pacing and worrying, there are the sounds of latches and pressure locks being released, and the door to his room, or cell, slides open to reveal one of his person guards, Obi-Wan, and a rather disgruntled-looking Bail Organa. Senator Organa is, if the news is to be believed, a fairly reasonable man, and it’s possible he’s been sent for that reason.

“Duke Fett,” he says, in a resonant, apologetic voice, nodding politely.

Cody turns to face him, inclines his own head and clasps his hands behind his back. “Senator. I hope you have good news for me?”

“The Senate had voted to send troops to your planet,” Organa says, smoothly, regretful, “but we moved to reconsider after receiving your new evidence. I apologize they did not let you attempt to present it before - you must understand the Senate felt the need to move quickly to preempt what they felt was a legitimate threat.”

Cody hums a little, smiles understandingly despite the indignation he feels. “No harm done this time, was there, Senator? I appreciate how quickly you were able to decide to remedy your mistake.” He walks toward his guard and Obi-Wan, a touch dismissively, although he doesn’t think Senator Organa himself is probably at fault for any of this. Regardless, he still has a point to make. “I’ll be out of your way this evening, provided the Senate has no more questions for me.”

“No,” Organa says, firmly. “They didn’t feel it necessary to question you again.”

“I thought not.” Cody smiles at Obi-Wan, a little, as the three of them leave the room, Organa forced to stay behind them as he follows. “I hope you’ll excuse us, then.”

“Of course, your Highness,” Organa says, and excuses himself.

When they’re alone, on their way back to the Jedi Temple, Cody says to Obi-Wan, in Basic, “Thank you for helping me with this, Obi. This- was a bit close, for my taste.” Too close to war, to losing everything he’s trying to protect. Gods, they voted to invade. If he hadn’t had the recording, or Obi-Wan hadn’t gotten through to the Senate with it, he’d have a blockade of Republic ships around his planet within a week, and those poor clone troopers on the ground trying to break through his defenses almost as soon.

But he doesn’t. And he’s not sure he could have managed this without Obi-Wan.

“Of course,” Obi-Wan says, firm and sincere. “I don’t want them to invade our home either, you know.”

Cody glances at him and smiles, instead of asking when Obi-Wan started thinking of Mandalore as his home, and whether he really means that when he says it. Cody thinks he probably does. It is enough to him, for now, that Obi-Wan has somehow made his planet his own home, despite the mess they’ve both made of everything.

Sometimes Cody wonders if he’s being selfish, wishing Obi-Wan would stay with him.

He doesn’t tell anyone so, though. Instead, he tells Obi-Wan he hopes to see him soon and leaves Coruscant behind, relieved that all of this came to nothing much. He goes home to deal with the reactions of his people, who were already half on their way to invading Coruscant when the HoloNews published the information that the Duke of Mandalore had been detained (although Cody suspects that news story was printed rather in spite of the Senate itself). He puts out a statement that he holds no ill will towards the Republic Senate as long as they leave his politics well enough alone, and that he still intends to remain neutral, as both sides are equally attempting to manipulate them. All in all, he thinks he pulls the situation out of a complete nosedive neatly enough. His advisors approve the statement, although Cato freely admits he’d rather have taught the Senators a lesson the traditional way.

Cody can’t entirely disagree.

It’s a busy few weeks, with only one comm call, before Obi-Wan mentions that he’s been given some leave time - a few days, he says, and he’ll come back during them. Cody is so pleased he managed to get any time away from the war at all, and so the afternoon before Obi-Wan is supposed to come back, he goes into Obi-Wan’s rooms and cleans things himself, trims dead blooms off the plants, waters and rearranges them, and makes sure everything else is in order. Maybe Obi-Wan won’t really notice, but Cody feels like it’s something, anyway, and it keeps him from being anxious about it.

He doesn’t really know where he and Obi stand, right now, and while he’s not exactly worried about it because they seem to be on good terms again, he’s afraid that Obi-Wan being home will just make everything seem uncomfortable again, will remind him of why he was angry or why he wished Obi wouldn’t stay gone. There are too many mixed feelings for him to bother about deciphering, yet, so after organizing Obi-Wan’s rooms he goes to help Boba with his target practice.

He doesn’t tell anyone that he can’t wait until Obi-Wan comes home and stays for good. For now, he can respect that Obi has other responsibilities, and appreciate that this is home to him at all.

~~~

It takes longer than Obi-Wan had hoped to get his request for leave processed and approved by the GAR; he lets Cody know a week or so before he’s supposed to get the time off and sets about making sure everything’s in order.

On the morning his week-long leave starts, he takes his A-wing and a hyperspace engine ring and sets the coordinates for Mandalore, pulling out his datapad and starting to work on reports. He may as well use the few hours of space travel to catch up and save Waxer the trouble of having to forge his signature.

The reports entertain him well enough, although he can’t entirely stop his thoughts from wandering to Cody, wondering about the reception he’ll get when he gets to Mandalore. Cody had said he’s welcome back, and no one seemed unduly hostile or upset with him on his last visit, so hopefully everything will go smoothly.

He knows he and Cody have quite a lot to talk about, still. They’ve barely even mentioned the war and Jango’s death and the way Obi-Wan left. But maybe things can still be good.

Or maybe things will be back to the tension there was before the war began.

After a few hours in hyperspace, the proximity alarm beeps and he brings his fighter into realspace, leaves the engine ring to fall into orbit around Mandalore and cruises down to Sundari, lands carefully on the private landing platform behind the palace. His starfighter will be safer there, he’s sure, and it’ll mean less of a walk to reach the palace, and home.

Cody’s waiting for him when he unlocks the top of his fighter and climbs out, adjusting his cloak around him. “Hello again, Obi-Wan,” he says, warm and smiling, and Obi-Wan feels himself smile in response, nearly automatic. “Glad you could make it back.”

“So am I,” Obi-Wan says, pauses to glance back at the ship. “Do you mind if my astromech is left to wander around, or should I have it go power off in my rooms?”

Cody laughs, rich and amused. “Let it wander,” he says.

“You heard him, Arfour,” he says, cheerfully, and the red astromech chirps at him in binary, rocketing out of its socket. “Just don’t cause any trouble.”

His astromech is already whirring away, chattering to itself. Obi-Wan can’t help a bit of a fond smile. Droids.

He turns back to Cody, shakes his head a bit. “If you’ll give me a few minutes, I’ll stop in my room to change out of my robes and meet you- where do you want to meet?”

“How about the library, and I’ll get us some drinks and snacks,” Cody says, sounds satisfied, and Obi-Wan smiles.

“Excellent. I’ll meet you there, then.”

He leaves Cody with another smile and a nod, hurries through the entrance to the biodome maybe a bit faster than necessary - so maybe he’s eager to sit down with Cody and just talk. It’s not like that’s a terrible thing, wanting to talk to his husband and friend, who he’s hardly seen in nearly a year.

Right?

When he steps into his rooms, the first thing he notices is that the plants all look bright and well-cared-for, neatly trimmed, nothing dead or dying left on them. He brushes against their fragile presences in the Force, feels nothing but warmth and growth. Cody’s been doing an excellent job with them, then, despite all his statements to the contrary.

It shouldn’t feel as relieving as it does, Obi-Wan thinks, to strip off his Jedi robes and assorted pieces of armor and pull on the simple Mandalorian clothes Beto had had made for him what feels like ages ago. It shouldn’t feel like coming home.

But he can’t deny that when he’s hooked his lightsaber on his belt and tugged his boots back on, robes and cloak neatly hung in the closet, he feels more relaxed than he has in a long time.

Maybe it’s the fact that the war, in a sense, doesn’t reach here. Not yet.

Whatever the case, he finds himself smiling eagerly as he leaves his rooms again and makes for the library. It’s been too long since he and Cody could just sit and talk, without worrying about the war and their own complicated feelings for each other.

(Maybe not so complicated, in a sense. But Obi-Wan isn’t entirely ready to think about the ramifications of that, yet.)

He thinks that this will be good.

~~~

Cody brings coffee and tea and a couple biscuits to the library, a hesitant eagerness making him restless when he sets down the little snack on a table and sits himself down in a chair. He taps his fingers on the table and pours himself a cup of coffee, takes small sips while he waits for his riduur to join him. He’s missed this so much - he hopes they can sit and be together here without tension and without arguing, like they used to.

Obi-Wan isn’t gone long, and when he walks into the library, he’s in one of the dark green tunics that he wears on their more relaxed days here in the palace. Cody smiles at him as he walks over, and reaches out to pour a cup of tea for him as Obi-Wan sits down.

“Settled in?” he asks, cheerfully, setting down the little pitcher of tea and getting himself a biscuit.

Obi-Wan smiles gratefully, takes a biscuit of his own, and lifts the cup of tea to take a tentative sip. “Yes, thank you. I’d forgotten how relaxing it is not to have to worry about the war,” he says, sighing a little.

“Good.” Cody nods. “Are you satisfied with the care I’ve been giving your plants? I’m doing my best.” He smiles somewhat sheepishly, takes a sip of his coffee, trying too hard to seem casual.

Obi-Wan smiles, sincerely. “They look healthy - thank you. I’m quite glad you decided to keep them.”

“I was hardly going to get rid of them, I know you like them.” And having the plants feels something like a guarantee that Obi-Wan will come back.

“That’s very thoughtful of you,” Obi says, warm and softening, and Cody chuckles a bit.

“I guess. I don’t mind, though.” Cody shrugs a little. “How’s Anakin? And your men?”

“They’re doing alright,” Obi-Wan says, nodding. “Anakin’s been over the moon about how well his padawan Ahsoka is doing, and we haven’t had any bad campaigns since Geonosis, which always puts the men in a better mood.”

Gods, Cody keeps forgetting Anakin has a padawan now - he can hardly believe it, in a way, because when he and Obi-Wan came here Anakin was a padawan, and Cody thinks he must still have a lot to learn, but now he has a student of his own. “When do I get to meet her?” Cody asks, mostly teasing, although he really would like to. But Anakin’s just as busy as Obi-Wan, lately - Cody sometimes wonders if he’s alright, but he’s only really heard secondhand reports on him from Obi since the war started.

Obi smiles fondly. “I’ll let him know you want to - maybe the next time Anakin has leave, he can bring her here for a visit. She’s fifteen and feisty, I think you’ll love her.” Obi-Wan sounds as proud when he says that as if she was his own padawan - and Cody supposes that’s reasonable. He imagines that teaching someone, and then getting to see them pass on what they’d learned, would feel good.

“That would be nice,” Cody says, nodding. “I think Riska and Boba and some of the others would really like to see him, too.” He drinks some more of his coffee, then dunks another biscuit into what’s left of it. “They were glad to hear you were coming back for a while.”

“Really?” Obi-Wan asks, as if that’s news to him, although he looks pleased. “I noticed none of them met me at the landing platform, though.” He sips his tea thoughtfully and Cody laughs.

“I suppose none of them were as excited as I was,” he says, dismissively, smiling as if he’s teasing although that is, in fact, the plain truth of the matter.

Obi-Wan grins, cheerfully. “Well, I’m glad you were as excited as you were.”

“You would be.” Cody smiles a little through another bite of biscuit and shakes his head. “Don’t go getting a big head over it.”

“Not to worry,” and Obi-Wan waves a hand dismissively, “I’ll be sure to keep my head from growing beyond its current size.”

“Thank you kindly,” says Cody, giving Obi a sage nod. “I appreciate the effort.” He grins, eats more biscuit, and comfortably leans his arms on the table. At least for now, he doesn’t feel a trace of the discomfort between them that has been their normal for over a year.

“I noticed you didn’t mention Rex being happy to see me,” Obi points out, amused, and Cody sighs a bit, smiles.

In fact, Rex still isn’t strictly happy about Obi-Wan leaving them after their father died, and besides that he’s been working hard to deal with strategy and adequate protection for the city and for their family itself.

“He’s too busy lately to be excited,” Cody says, dryly, “but I’m sure at some point you’ll get a welcome from him.”

“I’m sure I’ll see him eventually, since we do have politics to work out.”

“Ah yes, my brother’s favorite setting,” Cody muses. “The political sphere.”

Obi-Wan laughs. "Perhaps if I don't want him to be upset with me, I should find another time to talk to him," he suggests, amused, and Cody nods sagely.

"Perhaps that would be the wise thing to do," he agrees.

"Maybe while he's working out his frustrations in the training yard?"

"You had better just ask me when to talk to him," Cody decides, teasing, lifting his cup of coffee in mock-salute.

"Alright," Obi sighs, amused, "I defer to your greater wisdom in this area."

"As you should always." Cody is, of course, teasing, voice warm with mock-seriousness.

"Not always, " Obi corrects him, gesturing a bit. "Remember that I'm a fountain of wisdom."

"Ah, of course, how could I forget." Cody chuckles and finishes the last of his coffee, thinks better of getting more.

Obi smiles at him, warm, and then looks down at his own cup and rubs his thumb over the handle of it.

Cody sighs, leans his elbows on the table, and looks down himself. "I'm really glad you're back," he says, tiredly. He's glad, too, that they aren't tense, that this feels almost normal. Like before, even. Almost.

"I'm glad to be back," Obi-Wan tells him, softly. "I've missed this place." Cody's beginning to smile when Obi adds, "And you."

Cody can't keep his smile from going more embarrassed, although he reminds himself he still needs to be careful. "I missed you too, for a bit I thought-" He stops, suddenly doubting whether he should say anything, then finishes, "thought you weren't going to come back, after you left."

Obi-Wan takes a quiet sip of tea, then sighs and says, "I wasn't sure you'd want me to."

"You weren't- Oh." Cody rubs his jaw a little, because of course he had said Obi-Wan shouldn't have come back, if he wasn't going to stay, so of course probably Obi had thought he meant it, and thought Cody would rather he stay gone. "I- I'm sorry I said some of the things I did, Obi-Wan, they weren't fair."

"It's alright - you were upset and grieving, and one of the people you were supposed to be able to rely on was leaving. I don't blame you," Obi says, gently, which is kind of him, but all the same.

"I still- I shouldn't have been so harsh, it wasn't fair of me and it's not like it helped anything. You leaving did- hurt," Cody adds, although it's hard to admit, "but I- I at least understand a bit now, and I know you didn't want to."

~~~

Obi-Wan sighs, smoothes his thumb over his mug of tea, considering. It’d hurt, when Cody said he didn’t think Obi-Wan should’ve come back, but it’s true that he’d understood, and hearing that Cody maybe didn’t entirely mean everything he said (maybe you just shouldn’t have come back) helps, more than he’d expected. “You needed an outlet for your emotions,” he says, steadily, gentle. “I was willing to be that outlet. I- do appreciate the apology,” he adds, smiles a little. “It did hurt, the thought that you didn’t want me around.”

“I know,” Cody says, shifting a little and tightening his hands around his mug, “and I’m- so sorry, I wasn’t thinking.”

Obi-Wan sighs a little. “I wish I’d reacted logically, instead of emotionally - leaving the way I did couldn’t have helped anything. I let my emotions get the better of me and I made assumptions.” He takes a quick drink of his tea. “I’m sorry I didn’t comm for so long - so much of this could’ve been avoided if we’d just communicated better.”

Cody chuckles, though it’s sheepish. “Now, Obi, you know that’s not the strong suit of either Jedi or Mandalorians.”

“Especially not with each other,” Obi-Wan agrees, in a similar tone, before sobering. “I do want to be better at this, but even with a mental bond Anakin and I still struggle. I just- ask that you’re patient with me.” He doesn’t mean for it to echo with a double meaning, not entirely, but he can’t help it. Be patient with me, while I learn to let myself love you. Of course, he can’t say that out loud, can’t even allude to it, really - even the thought is almost too much.

But he wants to learn.

“Of course I can be,” Cody says, tone shifting from serious to teasing as he continues on, “and hey, we’ve really done a lot better than any of our predecessors, considering neither of us are dead and we’re still married.”

Obi-Wan laughs. “True,” he says, nodding. “And unless your feelings have massively changed over the last several months, we don’t hate each other.”

“Fortunately, I don’t hate you, so we’re safe on that count too,” Cody says, huffing. There’s something shifting in his eyes, though, and when Obi-Wan brushes against the Force, he can feel just a touch of embarrassment.

“Well, good,” Obi-Wan says, smiling. “I don’t hate you either, as I’m sure you’ve noticed.” More than noticed, really, given that ill-advised kiss.

“I suppose I’d noticed that,” Cody says, and Obi-Wan chuckles a little.

“So,” he says, deliberately steering the subject away from feelings he doesn’t entirely want to discuss, “I have several months of palace gossip to catch up on, and I’m sure you know most of it. Is there anything interesting I’ve missed?”

Cody tells him a few of the more lighthearted tales; a couple of the staff have finally gotten together, to most of the rest of the staff’s exasperated pleasure. Riska kicked the new advisor’s ass in a sparring set, after he loudly proclaimed (while drunk, apparently) that he could beat her. Boba’s finally been banned from the training grounds during school hours - Jak making good on his threat, apparently. Cody also informs him that Riska has recently been pining after a young professor who transferred to the University of Sunari from one of the bigger cities on the other side of the planet; according to Riska, her name is Reyla, and Riska absolutely does not have a crush on her.

Obi-Wan rather doubts that.

“So what you’re saying is, the next time I see Riska I need to make sure to tease her for liking teachers?” Obi-Wan says, raising an eyebrow.

“I told you no such thing,” Cody says dryly. “But if you’d like to, please, by all means.”

Obi-Wan smiles. “Excellent,” he says. “By the way, have I told you Anakin’s married?”

Cody’s jaw drops. “You did not - he is? To who? How’d he get away with that?”

“The simplest answer is: he didn’t,” Obi-Wan says, laughing - he might be a little pleased with Cody’s reaction. Just a little. “No one’s supposed to know, but he’s honestly terrible at keeping secrets, and in any case Artoo recorded their wedding. As for who - Padme, or rather Senator Amidala. As far as I can tell, the ceremony took place when Anakin was escorting her back to Naboo. He hasn’t actually told me yet, but I’m hoping he does soon.”

“I thought you disapproved of that kind of thing,” Cody says, sounding surprised.

Obi-Wan sighs, rubs his hands across his pants and tries to order his thoughts. “We’re fighting a war,” he says, finally. “Anakin needs what happiness and stability he can find, and Padme gives him that. I’ve never seen him as happy as he is when he’s around her.” He rubs at his beard. “Who am I to take that away from him?”

Cody nods, slow and thoughtful. “That’s- very reasonable of you. I’m glad it’s been good for him.”

Obi-Wan suspects that Cody had expected a different response - and Obi-Wan would’ve, too, before the war. But he’s not the same person as he used to be. The war has changed them all, for good or for ill. “The rest of the Council doesn’t know, mostly because I’ve been… running interference, of a sort.”

“You rebel,” Cody teases with a warm grin.

Obi-Wan rolls his eyes. “Yes, that’s me,” he says, can’t help being amused.

They talk until Obi-Wan’s teapot is empty and Cody’s coffee has gone cold, and maybe Obi-Wan shouldn’t feel so relaxed, shouldn’t enjoy himself so much, but he can’t help it, almost.

He’d nearly forgotten what peace feels like.

It’s odd, he thinks, that he should only feel it on Mandalore.

~~~

The first evening of Obi-Wan’s leave is spent quietly enough as Obi settles back into the palace, however temporarily. Cody enjoys the pleasantness, but also warns Obi-Wan that the next day at least has been promised to their advisors for meetings, because Cody couldn’t talk them into completely giving Obi-Wan a break. So the second day of Obi-Wan’s leave is spent in meetings, from eleven standard in the morning till they all break for supper around six.

Technically, they are supposed to have a little more to discuss after supper, but Cody talks Obi-Wan into sneaking off to a quiet, out of the way sitting room with him instead. It’s through a door in the library and most people, Cody included, seem to forget it exists - as a matter of fact, the servants appear to have forgotten it lately, because it’s dusty. Cody doesn’t mind, just lights a fire in the fireplace so the room’s lit and warmed, and they sit on the little grey sofa in the room and relax.

Because of the long day, they don’t talk much, and Cody mostly just watches the fire and Obi-Wan at intervals. He’s weary, and doesn’t feel like thinking about much of anything, but he’s comfortable and warm and Obi-Wan is here, looking like there’s nowhere else he’d rather be, and Cody doesn’t worry about how there’s a war going on, or how Obi-Wan isn’t here anymore, or how really Cody still can’t have anything quite like how he wants with Obi. Right now, he almost doesn’t care, because he’s happy.

After what little conversation they were maintaining has died away almost entirely, Obi-Wan ends up sighing a bit sleepily and settling further into the sofa, shifting closer to Cody and leaning his head into Cody’s shoulder without preamble or explanation. Cody glances at him, quickly, surprised - Obi must be more tired than he thought, because Cody’s not sure he can remember a time when Obi’s been this relaxed with him, except- Except at the Festival of Lights, when everything was so impossibly good. Sometimes remembering that evening almost makes him think he and Obi-Wan could maybe work something out, if they really tried, because clearly Obi-Wan at least has wanted something more than a political marriage - but sometimes Cody indulges in too much wishful thinking. It’s a bad habit, but when he’s taking care of Obi’s plants or trying to work through a complicated problem, it’s hard to keep his mind from wandering.

Cody refocuses on the fire and is quiet still, just tries to enjoy the comfort of the evening, until to his further surprise, he feels Obi-Wan’s fingers curl around his hand, loosely, and his riduur sighs a little, a sleepy noise that tells Cody he’s either dozing off or about to be. Cody smiles a little and smoothly slips his hand free of Obi’s fingers.

When he sits up a bit to look at Obi, Obi’s eyes are shut, his breathing soft, and a couple unruly strands of hair have strayed over his forehead. Cody huffs a quiet half-chuckle, nudges Obi-Wan a bit to see if he’s awake and doesn’t get much more than a sleepy grumble. He supposes between all the meetings and the fact that Obi-Wan probably hasn’t had a day off in months, it’s no surprise he’s asleep already. Cody considers a moment, then sighs to himself and gets off the sofa so he can get Obi-Wan moved to his room. No use waking him up, it’s not a long walk and he needs his sleep.