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Copies walk among us, their hands shaped like my own

Summary:

A mission goes wrong and Obi-Wan is kidnapped by Separatists. He is experimented on to create a new generation of Force-sensitive clones, a process that leaves him with lasting trauma.

Meanwhile, Cody never gives up hope that Obi-Wan is alive. His certainty is challenged when a man claiming to be his General returns, a man Cody is convinced is an imposter.

Chapter 1: A blade of starlight, a tombstone in hand, one final dance together

Chapter Text

“I have a bad feeling about this.”

The words were so familiar, so laden with history, that Cody's heart gave a little hitch. He glanced over at Obi-Wan, who was peering through a macrobinocular scanner at the jagged, craggy landscape of the planet, his brow furrowed in concentration. The wind whipped at their cloaks, carrying the scent of dust and ozone. The mission to a remote sector to investigate a supposed Separatist weapons cache was a standard one, but a strange silence had settled over the comms since they arrived.

Cody stepped closer, the familiar hum of his blaster-rifle a steady presence in his hands. He looked at the worry etched on his General's face, the slight tremor in his usually steady hands. He reached out, his gloved hand resting lightly on Obi-Wan’s shoulder. Obi-Wan flinched at the touch, then slowly lowered the scanner to look at him.

“I know,” Cody said, his voice a low rumble against the wind. “This isn’t what we expected.”

Obi-Wan sighed, running a hand over his face. “It’s more than that, Cody. It's a feeling in the Force. A cold spot. It's... wrong.”

Cody met his gaze, his eyes full of unwavering certainty. "Then whatever happens, we face it together. Like we always do."

A genuine smile, so rare in the field, broke through Obi-Wan’s worry. It reached his eyes, making them sparkle with a warmth that cut through the desolation around them. He took a small step forward, closing the distance between them, and without a word, he quickly pressed a soft, firm kiss to Cody’s lips. It was a fleeting, chaste touch, but it held a universe of meaning: trust, affection, and a promise.

He pulled back, his smile still present, and gave Cody a quick, determined nod. He raised the macrobinoculars again, his focus returning to the mission. “Alright then. Let's see what’s out there. Together.”

Cody returned the nod, a renewed sense of purpose coursing through him. He checked the power pack on his rifle, his movements confident and precise. Whatever lay ahead in the dusty canyons, he wasn’t worried. Not anymore. Not as long as they had each other's backs.

The hiss of blaster fire was a constant, searing chorus against the wind. Cody moved with practiced efficiency, a blur of orange and white armor against the grey rock. He fired his blaster rifle, each shot a precise strike that dropped a battle droid. The metal bodies clattered to the ground in a cacophony of defeat. They were moving through a narrow pass, the droids pouring out of a makeshift Separatist base carved into the cliff face.

He dodged a crimson bolt, the heat of it searing the air inches from his helmet, and returned fire, taking out two droids in a single burst. His comms were filled with static and the chatter of his men, but his focus remained on the objective—pushing the line, getting closer to the base’s main entrance. He could see Obi-Wan ahead, a whirlwind of blue light and controlled power, deflecting blaster bolts with graceful, deadly precision.

Suddenly, a name cut through the noise, a sharp, urgent cry from Obi-Wan. “Cody!”

He turned his head just in time to see a massive object—something large and metallic, glowing with a dangerous red energy—falling from the sky toward their position. Before he could even register what it was, a powerful wave of energy, the Force made manifest, slammed into him. He and the clones around him were sent flying, skidding across the rough terrain. The impact knocked the wind from his lungs, his helmet scraping against the ground.

Cody scrambled to his feet, adrenaline coursing through him. He shook his head to clear the ringing in his ears and looked back at where he’d been standing.

An explosion of blinding light and fire erupted, consuming the spot where Obi-Wan had just been. A roar of sound followed, a violent shockwave that pushed him back a step, heat washing over him in a sickening wave. The world went silent, all other sounds swallowed by the ringing in his ears as a column of black smoke billowed into the air.

Cody's legs felt like lead, a shaky, uncertain weight beneath him. The ringing in his ears began to subside, replaced by the roar of his own frantic thoughts. He pushed himself to his feet, the sound of his general's name a desperate plea escaping his lips. "Obi-Wan!"

He sprinted into the billowing black smoke, the acrid smell of burnt metal and plasma choking him. The heat was immense, a physical force that seared his lungs with every breath. He was deaf to the sounds of retreating Separatist forces, blind to the scattered wreckage of the battle droids around him. Nothing mattered but finding Obi-Wan.

"Obi-Wan! Can you hear me?!" he yelled, his voice raw with panic. He began to search, his hands sifting through the still-smoldering debris. He threw aside a twisted piece of durasteel, his gauntlet scraping against the sharp edges. He moved a broken droid chassis, its photoreceptors still glowing faintly before fizzling out.

"Obi-Wan! Obi-Wan!" The name was a prayer, a desperate incantation against the worst possible outcome. He called it again and again, his gaze darting through the hazy ruins, his heart pounding a frantic rhythm against his ribs. The world had narrowed to this single, terrible moment, to the fear that he was now searching for a ghost.

The strength left his legs, and Cody collapsed to his knees, his hands dropping to the charred ground. A choked sob escaped him, and then another, and he let them come, his shoulders shaking with the force of his despair. The smoke was still thick, but now he could see, through the haze of tears, the reality of the destruction. There was nothing left. No trace. No body. Just twisted metal and burnt earth.

A hand rested on his shoulder, and a familiar voice, quiet and steady, cut through his grief. “Commander. We need to fall back. We’re drawing attention.” It was Boil, his face smudged with soot, his helmet tucked under his arm.

Cody shook his head, his vision blurring. “No. I need to find him.”

Boil’s grip on his shoulder tightened, a comforting, heavy presence. “Cody, we can’t. We’ve swept the area. The wreckage is too much. He… he could be anywhere.”

Cody rose to his feet, a cold fury replacing his despair. He ripped his shoulder from Boil’s grasp, his voice a low, dangerous growl. “I don't care where he is! I don't care if he’s dead or alive! He doesn’t deserve to rot in this battlefield alone!” His words hung in the air, a raw testament to his fear and love.

Boil’s face was a mask of sympathy and exhaustion. He didn’t flinch at Cody's outburst. Instead, he simply met his commander’s gaze with a steady, unwavering resolve. "I want to find him too, Commander. He's my general. My friend," Boil said, his voice softer now. "But we're no use to him out here, stranded and in the open. The Seppies could be coming back any minute."

He paused, letting the truth of his words sink in. "We need to get back to the base. We need to get checked out, to make a plan. We can't help him if we're dead."

Boil slowly knelt down, holding out a hand to Cody. "Come on, Commander. Let’s go home."

Cody stared at the outstretched hand for a long moment, seeing in it not just a lifeline but a promise. A promise that this wasn't the end, that there was still hope. With a shaky breath, he took it. Boil’s grip was firm and sure as he pulled Cody to his feet.

Supporting him with an arm around his shoulder, Boil helped Cody walk. The trek back to base was a blur of pain and grief, the only anchor in the swirling storm of Cody's thoughts was the steady, comforting presence of his brother at his side. He didn't look back at the swirling smoke, at the silent, burning tomb of his hopes. He just put one foot in front of the other, following Boil’s lead, one step at a time.

The makeshift medical tent was a chaotic, fluorescent-lit beacon against the growing dusk. Dazed and limping, Cody was guided by Boil toward the entrance. A medic with familiar red markings, Helix, saw them approaching. His expression, usually calm, was etched with concern. He quickly took over, placing a hand on Cody’s uninjured arm and gently but firmly taking him from Boil.

"Commander, over here," Helix said, his voice all business. "Boil, get to triage. We've got a lot of wounded."

Cody felt himself being lowered onto a stretcher, the rough canvas of it a sudden, jarring reality. He tried to sit up, but a wave of nausea washed over him, and Helix’s hands were on his shoulders, holding him down.

"Easy, Commander. You took a hard hit. Let me check for concussion," Helix said, his fingers deftly removing Cody’s helmet.

Cody pushed his hands away. "No. I have to go back. We have to find him. Obi-Wan… he's still out there." The words came out in a desperate jumble, his gaze fixed on the entrance of the tent, as if he could will himself back to the battlefield.

Helix paused, his eyes meeting Cody’s. The medic’s expression softened for a brief moment before hardening with professional resolve. "I know, Commander. We all do. But you're no good to him like this. We'll send out a proper search party, a full-scale sweep, as soon as the wounded are stabilized. I promise." He held up a medscanner, its light a cool comfort against the searing heat of Cody's grief. "But first, we treat everyone. Then we make a plan. One step at a time."

Cody’s gaze remained fixed on the entrance of the medical tent, his mind replaying the image of the explosion. "He told me we would do this together," he murmured, his voice barely a whisper. "Whatever happens… we do it together."

Helix, still holding the medscanner, saw the glassy look in Cody’s eyes, the way his body was finally surrendering to exhaustion and the shock of the hit he had taken. As Helix began to check for internal injuries, Cody mumbled again, a soft plea now. "He’s out there… he’s waiting."

The last word was a barely audible sigh as Cody's eyelids fluttered and closed. His body went limp, the tension that had been holding him together finally giving way. The silence of his unconsciousness was more profound than any noise, a sudden and terrible quiet that settled over the medical tent, broken only by the whirring of the medscanner in Helix’s hand and the soft cries of the wounded.

Cody’s eyes fluttered open slowly, the world coming into focus as a blurry mix of beige tent canvas and bright, pulsing lights. His head throbbed, a dull, rhythmic ache that made him wince. He took a moment to let his mind catch up, the smell of antiseptic and scorched metal confirming his location. He was in the medical tent, lying on a stretcher, a thin blanket pulled up to his chest.

“You’re awake. That’s good.” Helix’s voice was calm and steady as he stepped into view. He was holding a datapad, his brow furrowed in concentration. “Took a pretty nasty hit, Commander. You had a concussion, a bad one. Sprained your ankle, too. You're lucky that’s all it was.”

Cody closed his eyes, a familiar knot of dread tightening in his gut. The memories of the mission, of the fight, of the desperate search, came rushing back in a painful wave. The feeling of being thrown through the air, the bright flash of light, the roar of the explosion. And Obi-Wan.

He opened his eyes, a single question on his lips. “Obi-Wan. Did you find him?”

Helix's composure faltered. He looked away, his gaze shifting to the floor, a flicker of guilt crossing his face. “Commander, we... we haven't.”

The words were a hammer blow. Cody’s heart sank, a cold, empty feeling spreading through his chest.

“A team is out searching,” Helix continued, his voice softer now. “They’re doing a full grid sweep of the blast zone. We’re not giving up, Commander. I promise you that.” He placed a hand on Cody’s shoulder, a silent offering of comfort and hope.

Cody shook his head, pushing himself up to a sitting position. He ignored the dizzying protest from his head and the sharp stab of pain from his ankle. "I'm going to search, too," he said, his voice flat with resolve. He started to swing his legs over the side of the stretcher.

"No, you're not." Helix's voice was firm, and his hands were on Cody’s shoulders, pushing him back down with surprising strength. "You're staying put."

Cody tried to argue, "But-"

"I’m a medic, Commander," Helix interrupted, his voice dropping to a low, no-nonsense tone. "I'm outside the chain of command. You need to rest. You’ve got a bad concussion. You are of no use to anyone like this, let alone a search party. Now sit down. That’s an order.”

Cody met Helix’s gaze, seeing the stubborn refusal to budge. He knew the medic was right, even though he hated it. Defeated, he slowly leaned back, the mattress of the stretcher soft and unforgiving against his aching body. He let out a long, shaky breath, the familiar weight of helplessness settling over him.

Hours bled into one another, filled with the murmur of the wounded and the sterile quiet of the medical tent. The sun had set, and the hum of the base’s generators was a steady backdrop to Cody’s torment. He had fallen into a fitful sleep, but the sudden silence in the tent woke him. He sat up, his heart hammering in his chest, and saw them. The search party had returned.

At the head of the small group was Wayward, his armor streaked with soot and dust. Cody knew him to be a stubborn, self-reliant clone, one who did things his own way and rarely showed emotion. Yet now, Wayward's shoulders were slumped, and his helmet was tucked under his arm, his face a grim mask of utter defeat. His eyes, usually sharp and calculating, were filled with a raw, heartbreaking sorrow that made Cody's blood run cold.

Wayward walked directly to Cody’s stretcher, the gazes of every clone in the tent following him. The silence was heavy, punctuated only by the distant sounds of the base. Cody’s throat was tight, but he forced the words out, his voice a dry, rasping whisper. "What... what did you find?"

Wayward didn't answer. He simply reached into a pouch on his belt and pulled something out. It was heavy, and its weight was familiar. He placed it in Cody's outstretched, trembling hand.

It was Obi-Wan’s lightsaber. Its weight was a cold, solid reality in his palm, a stark, undeniable symbol of what was lost. The familiar gleam of the polished metal, the worn leather grip he’d seen Obi-Wan hold a thousand times, felt impossibly heavy. It was all that was left.

A sob, sharp and guttural, tore from Cody's chest. He gripped the lightsaber hilt, the cold metal a searing brand against his palm. He squeezed it so tightly that his knuckles turned white, the pain a welcome distraction from the agonizing truth of what the object represented.

"He... he had a bad feeling about this," Cody rasped, his voice raw with a grief that felt too big for his body. He looked at the clones gathered around him, their faces a mix of pity and shared loss. "He told me. He said it was a cold spot in the Force. That it felt wrong."

A bitter, humourless laugh escaped his lips. He lowered his gaze to the lightsaber, the elegant craftsmanship a cruel reminder of the man who had wielded it. "But I... I told him we would face it together. Like we always do." He scoffed, the sound a ragged echo of his despair. "Together. Some together." He let the words hang in the air, a raw testament to a broken promise, a shared destiny that had been ripped from them both by a cruel and random act of violence.

Cody's gaze was fixed on the hilt in his hand, a solitary beacon of the wreckage of his hopes. He turned it over and over, tracing the familiar lines of the metal, the weight a constant, heavy reminder. The silence in the tent was a physical presence, each clone holding their breath, bearing witness to his grief.

"He knew," Cody said, the words barely a whisper. "He knew something was coming. He could feel it." He looked up, his eyes, bloodshot and filled with a pain that went beyond the physical, meeting Wayward's. "I should have listened. I should have trusted him."

Wayward, his voice a low rumble, broke the silence. "Commander...you couldn't have known."

Cody shook his head, a single, hot tear finally tracing a path through the grime on his cheek. "That's not the point. He trusted me. He told me his fears. And I... I just told him we'd face it together." He looked back down at the lightsaber, his hand trembling. "It was supposed to be together."

He clutched the hilt to his chest, the cold metal a physical anchor in the swirling storm of his grief. The promise he had made, a simple, heartfelt declaration of loyalty and love, now felt like a curse. The word, "together," echoed in his mind, a hollow, mocking whisper in the space where his heart used to be.

Cody pushed himself to his feet, the pain in his ankle a sharp protest. He ignored it, his gaze fixed on the lightsaber hilt still clutched in his hand. He took a single, unsteady step toward the tent's entrance.

"Commander, where are you going?" Helix's voice was sharp with alarm. He started to move to block Cody's path.

Cody didn't look at him. "Just outside," he said, his voice a low, raspy growl. "I just... I need a minute."

Helix hesitated, seeing the raw, desperate grief etched on Cody's face. He knew arguing would be useless. "Don't try anything stupid, Cody," he said, his voice softening. "That's an order."

Cody simply nodded, a silent acknowledgment of the medic's concern, and pushed through the flap of the tent.

The cool night air was a shock against his skin, a stark contrast to the stifling heat of the tent. He limped to a rock just outside the entrance, its surface still warm from the day's sun. He sat down, the lightsaber a cold weight in his hand, and stared out at the battlefield. The smoke had finally cleared, leaving behind a scarred, desolate landscape under the light of a thousand stars. Twisted metal and broken rock littered the ground, a silent graveyard of their hopes.

He thought of Obi-Wan. His smile. The feel of his hand on his shoulder. The fleeting kiss. I have a bad feeling about this. The words echoed in his mind, a constant refrain. He had been right. He was always right.

But Cody couldn't bring himself to believe that Obi-Wan was gone. He just couldn't. He felt it, deep in his gut, a flicker of something that refused to be extinguished. Obi-Wan was out there. He had to be. Cody had been thrown by the blast, but not killed. Maybe Obi-Wan had been, too. He was a Jedi. He was powerful. He was stubborn. He wouldn't die to something like that.

He looked up at the vast expanse of the night sky, at the swirling nebulae and distant stars. He gripped the lightsaber hilt tighter, its cold metal a tangible link to the man he was desperately trying to believe was still alive. He closed his eyes, a silent prayer forming on his lips, a desperate wish whispered into the endless void.

Come back to me.