Chapter Text
“Cody! Why the hell did you miss check-in?”
Cody offers Rex’s holo a tired smile. “Sorry, vod. Picked up a Wayfarer while you guys were gone and ran into a bit of trouble.”
Rex raises an eyebrow. “A bit of trouble? You look exhausted.”
“Maybe a lot of trouble.”
“Just like the good old days, then.”
“Ha. Yeah.” Rex has no idea.
Cody longs to tell him that Kenobi is alive, that he doesn’t hate Cody. That in a terrifying return to form the man just nearly died. That Ben is unwell and has been for some time, hurting deeply in ways Cody’s not sure he can help with, no matter how he aches to.
These secrets are not his to share, however, so he doesn’t. Though Rex peers keenly at him, he doesn’t ask—both of them know confidentiality is essential, especially for Wayfarers.
“How’d your vacation with Gregor go?” Cody eventually prods, and Rex tells him in innocuous turns of phrase that the job went well. Cody relaxes as he listens to Rex’s voice, something easing in his chest to know his brothers are okay. At least for now, everyone he needs to look out for is safe.
“We’ll stop back on Mapuzo soon,” Rex says, and Cody grimaces.
“About that—this trip’s going to take a while longer.”
“Oh?”
“I’ll try to keep in touch, but I have a feeling the trouble’s not over.” Even if things go smoothly from here it’ll take at least another two days to get Ben and Leia to Alderaan, and—well. Cody knows better than to bet on anything going to plan when Jedi are involved.
Rex frowns and then sighs. “…I hear you. Stay safe, Codes. And get some rest, yeah?”
“I will. K’oyacyi, Rex.”
The holo winks out. Cody turns off the comm and stands up with a quiet groan; some of his stiffness is from the healing injuries, but the years of battle have not been kind to his joints and he’s not getting any younger. Alas.
No sound seems to be coming from the adjoining room; Ben must be finished with his own call, then. Cody walks in, opening his mouth to remind Ben that the agreement now is to sleep—
Ah.
“Ahead of schedule on that front, huh,” Cody mutters fondly to himself. Ben, dozing atop a crate, does not respond.
Ben still doesn’t stir when Cody approaches and sets a hand lightly on his shoulder, which… hm. On the one hand, it would be better to sleep on an actual sleeping mat in the room meant for resting; Ben will definitely get a crick in the neck like this, and this room isn’t especially warm. On the other hand, though, the man needs all the sleep he can get. Cody could rouse him with a little more effort, but it’d be a shame to wake him when Cody is capable of getting them both there himself.
Mindful of the bandages, Cody eases his arms behind Ben’s back and under his legs and carefully picks him up. Ben’s a lot bigger than Leia, but he isn’t too much taller than the average clone and definitely lighter than he should be. This wouldn’t be the first time Cody’s had to bodily haul him somewhere, and even ten accelerated years older, Cody is still a genetically engineered super soldier.
But Cody has miscalculated; he’s a recovering genetically engineered super soldier. As soon as he turns, a sharp twinge in his shoulder tells him that the damn thing isn’t going to hold long enough to get out of this room, let alone to the resting area. Rather than risk dropping Ben, Cody quickly changes course and manages a smooth (if undignified) descent to the ground, winding up with his back against the wall and a lap full of sleeping Jedi.
Okay. So. Not one of Cody’s best plans. At this point, he should either wake Ben—it’s frankly surprising that all the movement hasn’t already—or just go grab some blankets to bring back.
…Ben doesn’t seem uncomfortable, though, nestled against Cody’s shoulder as he is. He’s not even shivering anymore. And, going on forty-five hours of being awake and active by now, Cody’s own fatigue makes the idea of getting up again unappealing. He’s slept in worse places while covered in plastoid, and if he adjusts all their limbs so he won’t lose circulation in his leg, gets propped up a little more against the crate—there.
It’ll do.
Cody sends a written comm to Tala so as to avoid any panicked searches, then leans his head back and closes his eyes. Ben’s breaths puff soft and even in the quiet room (alive, alive, alive), and soon, Cody’s are lulled to match.
Several hours later, Cody blinks himself awake feeling decently rested and completely numb in the ass. Against his shoulder, Ben also stirs.
“Mmmngh.”
Such an eloquent speaker, this Negotiator.
“Good morning,” Cody says, heedless of the hour.
Ben sits up and blinks muzzily at Cody. “Hello there,” he says, then takes in their current arrangement. “How did we end up here?”
“Well, I meant to get you to one of the designated sleep rooms; the detour to the floor was unplanned. Seemed as good a place for a nap as any.” Remembering that sleeping in a heap like this sometimes has different connotations for natborns than it does for himself and his brothers, Cody grimaces. “Sorry. Hope I haven’t made you uncomfortable.”
Though he shifts to give Cody some space, Ben shakes his head. “Oh, no, I—you’re fine. I believe that’s the best I’ve slept in years, actually.”
Slumped against someone else on hard ground? “That’s not as reassuring as you think it is.”
“Hm.” Ben eyes Cody, gaze flicking to the burn marks on his jacket. “Are you all right? I meant to ask earlier, but—well.”
Cody stretches his legs, knees popping, and then rolls his shoulder. “Mostly. Bacta’s done its job by now. My backside would like to file a strongly worded grievance report, though.”
“You could have moved. Although…” A small spark of mischief enters Ben’s tone, and Cody braces himself for whatever nonsense is to follow. “I believe I heard, once upon a time, that your dedication to maintaining position when someone falls asleep on you earned you the delightful moniker of ‘Commander Cozy.’”
Karking—Rex. Cody’s vengeance shall be swift and mighty.
His batchmates came up with that nickname as one of many forms of brotherly ribbing. Truthfully, however, Cody likes it, even if he’d never admit it on principle. Gentleness is not a quality the clones were engineered for; the silly name is proof that he can manage it all the same. Though it’s still ridiculous and thus a bit embarrassing, the amusement it brings is worth the minor humiliation—and the tacit assurance of comfort even more so.
Indulging in the requisite theatrics (and plotting future payback), Cody scoffs indignantly. “Moving would have been too much effort. These bones are getting old, you know.”
“Best not let Leia hear you say that, or you’ll never hear the end of it,” Ben quips. Then his eyes soften. “Thank you. For keeping her safe, and for—everything.”
“Of course,” Cody replies, the corners of his mouth turning up, because regardless of the hardship he’s glad to be here.
Ben smiles back. Then, with clear improvement in strength and balance compared to his state mere hours ago, he pulls himself to standing against the crate and says, “Speaking of Leia, I ought to make sure she hasn’t gone looking for trouble.” He offers a hand to Cody, who takes it and rises to his feet.
“Have you been teaching her bad habits?” Cody asks, and Ben rolls his eyes.
“I don’t go looking for trouble—”
“Right, right, trouble only ever goes looking for you. That was definitely the case every time you chased after Dooku or Grievous—”
“They rather clearly started it.”
“—and that time on Cato Neimoidia—”
“That does not count—”
The repartee carries on as they make for the hall, falling back into step as they go.