Chapter Text
Triple Agent
Bode Akuna is Denvik's man today. Luthen cannot control Bode's commanding officer, but he will not miss the opportunity presented to him, and has already sent a laundry list of intelligence he would like Bode to get from this dank, backwater base on Algara.
Denvik has sent him to root out a small rebel cell that has been growing here. It's a good location, Bode has to admit - the Algarans are secretive and they don't like outsiders. The Empire has a base here anyway because of course they do. Small and inconsequential Algara might be, but it is in close proximity to some rather larger points of interest for the growing Imperial frontier. As far as Bode has been able to gather, the rebel cell belongs loosely to the Partisans led by Saw Gerrera.
Luthen has been frustratingly radio silent about what he knows, and asking Kleya will get him nowhere, so he is half blind. Truth be told, this mission is a welcome relief - the last few have been tough on him, filled with interrogations and torture. Bode is a spy. He's a very good spy, has been since he made it into the elusive Jedi Shadows when he was twenty one. He is a spy, not a torturer. He doesn't have the love for the craft that Denvik does, but he acknowledges that it's part of the job he does, and he will not compromise his cover, because he will not compromise Luthen or Kata.
Kata means the most to him. Of course she does. But he's not so blind that he can't admit he is reluctantly fond of his fiercely competent handler, too. Luthen Rael is the most complicated man Bode knows, which says a great deal, actually, and Bode respects his commitment to the cause, and the risks he takes leading a double life.
Bode can relate.
His is a triple life - a rebel spy playing a Jedi playing an Imperial Officer. Layers of lies are wrapped around him like a complex web, he holds dozens of strings of information, but he is nothing if not incredibly competent, so both Denvik and Luthen keep him on a pleasantly loose leash.
He waves away the busybody of a base commander, frowning down at the streets from the Imperial watchtower. His keen eyes sweep across the landscape, and he folds his arms behind the back of his crisp white uniform. “I am not to be disturbed while I carry out my inspection, am I understood?” He barks. He lays on something of a crisp Coruscanti accent when he's acting like an Imperial. He watches the commander glance at his rank badge.
He technically does not outrank the poor guy, but his badge says he does. Bode has no official rank - his little clip of blue and red squares is simply whatever Denvik needs it to be at any given time depending on his mission.
“Yes sir. Of…of course sir.” The commander salutes, and leaves Bode to his plotting.
Meeting
It does not take long to bring the Empire down on the little rebel band. It's a regrettable move, but it's a loss that Luthen has acknowledged has to happen to keep Bode's cover intact. Bode would be made very quickly if he was terrible at his Imperial job, so to ensure he remains useful he must see Denvik's instructions through. Which means several executions and a manhunt.
What he doesn't anticipate however, is his first real glimpse of a man he knows already by face and name from the wanted posters scattered across the Galaxy. Cal Kestis is one of Saw's many high ranking agents, a pretty boy poster child for the fledgling rebellion, fierce and brilliant.
And a Jedi.
Bode admires the brilliant golden flashes of a lightsaber. He has not had the chance to see another person wield one in such a long time. Something odd curls in his stomach as he leans on the railings of the Imperial observatory he is watching from.
What the fuck Kestis is doing on Algara is anyone's guess, but Bode can already tell he has not anticipated the ferocity with which the Empire is crushing the Algaran resistance, and he is beating a hasty retreat and predictably trying to save as many of the others as he can.
Luthen would probably let the kid die. Kestis is not exactly Luthen's idea of a useful asset.
Bode…it's been such a long time since he has felt another Force user, and for the first time since Birren, Bode…Bode is weak.
He cannot help it. He takes a moment to ensure he is not being watched, then the lets the Force uncurl from within his durasteel shields, flickering out like tiny droplets of ice water around him.
He vanishes into the shadows, moving fast, slipping unseen through grey corridors and out into the humid Algaran street. The line of Troopers march in a tight formation, and Kestis is backing up, covering the retreat of the handful of survivors as they flee towards a ship. There is an entire platoon waiting for them at the port, and Bode intends to ensure that Kestis does not end up in that trap.
The boy is sharper than he anticipates, and despite all of Bode's practise, Cal senses him seconds before Bode sweeps him away from the chaos and bundles him into the darkness of a closed junk shop, shoving him up against a wall and holding him in place with a hand on his mouth.
Cal struggles, green eyes wild and angry, red hair a tousled and matted mess, streaked with blood. “Quiet.” Bode hisses, looking over his shoulder.
Cal freezes, his eyes flickering over the ISB uniform and trying to reconcile it with the fact that Bode is not hiding in the Force, his aura the soft swell of a rising tide coated with oil. Bode shivers when the hot press of sunlit flames flicker out to meet him, bright with wonder and hope.
Cal doesn't move, seemingly understanding that this is a rescue, and Bode waits until the marching stops to carefully take his hand off the young Jedi's mouth. Cal lets out a ragged gasp, vibrating beneath him, and he grasps at Bode's arms. “You…you're…”
By the Force, it feels good to be seen. Bode smirks at Cal, but underneath the hopefulness and relief at being in the presence of another Jedi, there is fear, too. Someone that isn't Luthen knows that Bode is not what he looks like. Someone that could very well use it against him. He doesn't know Cal, not yet, but the Force is humming between them and he can't help but feel it wants them together.
“I'm Cal.” The boy says, and Bode is helpless in the face of the exquisite joy written in the Force that swells in delight around them both. It feels like warmth and home, and what else is he supposed to do with that?
“I…I'm Bode. Bode Akuna.”
Kata
The crisp, starched white of the ISB standard issue shirt itches the back of Bode's neck as he sits through one of Denvik's boring networking dinners. Kata is at his side, in an equally crisp and itchy cadet uniform - she is at least not the only child here tonight, but as usual she shows no interest in the other Imperial children, playing with a wooden Nexu toy and likely imagining jamming its many pointy legs into the leg of the very loud and snooty neighbour on her right. Bode strokes her hair.
She is safe here - well. Not safe safe, nowhere in this Galaxy is truly safe for her, but her being here keeps both Denvik and Luthen happy because her being here means Denvik believes Bode will not betray him.
Bode betrayed him precisely four hours after arriving on Nova Garon, the moment he sent his location to Luthen. Just a single ping, one tiny red dot in Kleya's vast comms room, but Bode had been Luthen's man long before he had been Denvik's. Luthen found him after Birren, and Bode knows - he knows that Luthen exploited his vulnerability, all the grief and fear…but he's at peace with it. Working for both Denvik and Luthen is exhausting, but the alternatives are worse.
Bode adjusts the sleeve of his uniform, discreetly signing a check in to Kata, who responds with ‘bored but okay’ and carries on eating her dessert.
Bode gives her his, and lets himself think about Cal. He hasn't seen the other Jedi is a little while, they have crashed together only once or twice since that first meeting on Algara, but when they do cross paths, it's like the Force is desperate for them to reestablish a connection. Jedi are in short supply, and Bode does not get the chance to stretch his senses and feel someone wrap themselves around him in return very often, so the fleeting moments he spends with Cal are precious.
Kata of course is Force sensitive, and he will always find a sense of home and belonging and love with her, too, but Kata needs him. Cal does not need him, Cal simply wants him, and his wildfire force presence is like a fucking drug.
Luthen is…wildly unhappy about it. It didn't take him long to work it out of course, and he regularly bitches Bode out about how reckless and ridiculous it is to actively seek him out every time they are in some sort of proximity to one another.
Maybe it is reckless. Cal knows who he is. If Cal is captured and interrogated, he and Kata would be immediately compromised if he were to collapse under pressure. Luthen seems to think Cal would crumble.
Bode knows better.
Bode cannot quite fathom just how strong Cal Kestis is. He knows already that the Jedi has resisted Imperial torture more than once. He has infiltrated and escaped the Fortress on Nur right underneath Vader's nose. He has gone toe to toe with Inquisitors and Purge troopers and he still manages to disrupt Imperial movement and recruit entire planets to rebel causes just by being his ridiculous, earnest self.
People love Cal Kestis.
Bode does not want to acknowledge exactly how he feels about the man, because nothing can come of what they do together when they do collide. Nothing can ever come of it, because they might be on the same side at the heart of it, but they are on wildly different paths.
Bode sighs, and tickles Kata's side. He subtly manages to acquire her a third portion of cake. She deserves every treat he can give her, after all, she is such a good girl while he spends so much time away from her.
Tryst
Bode is exhausted, and there is a heaviness that weighs down on him as he stumbles back towards the fancy hotel the Empire has stashed him in while he's on Corellia.
He never wanted to torture anyone. The screams of the young Pantoran rebel will haunt him for as long as he lives, her cries as Bode forced information out of her are burned into his mind, and he lets out a ragged sob the moment he shuts himself in his room. This is the part he can't do. He is a field agent, he can lie and betray and cheat and rig the game and…and…and then at the end of it all, to keep his place at Denvik's side, he has had to torture a teenager who dared to defy the Empire.
She hadn't even known anything.
But he has also succeeded here for Luthen, too, because he has been able to slice into one of the biggest ISB servers in the Galaxy while he has been stationed here, and the information he has relayed to Kleya will certainly save more lives than he has ruined whilst he has been here.
It doesn't help all that much. He still has information to pass to Luthen, all of it stored on a tiny chip sewn into his cuff, but that can come later. Right now he needs…fuck. He doesn't know what he needs.
He draws in a shaky breath and yanks off his outer layers, hands shaking. He fumbles the buttons of his shirt and curses. Something ripples in the Force, and for a moment Bode goes very still, lifting his head warily. But then, calloused fingers cover his hands, and the Force whispers in soft delight. Bode sucks in a breath.
“Cal.” He breathes. He had no idea the Jedi was anywhere near Corellia. He must be more tired than he thought.
“Let me.” Cal says, his voice soft and a little tired - he has likely been fighting, perhaps a supply run for Saw, it's unclear, Bode isn't privy to Saw Gerrera’s movements, but he is fucking delighted that Cal is here, and he draws in a long breath, his senses stretching and rippling over Cal's wildfire flame.
He turns and bodily pins Cal to the wall behind him, kissing him hard. It is savage and desperate, and Cal doesn't resist, simply melts into him, knowing exactly what Bode Akuna needs the way he always seems to.
They stumble to the bed, a hot tangle of limbs and shedding clothes, and Cal laughs in fond adoration as they crash onto the soft mattress, wrapping strong arms around Bode's neck. “Knew if I came to you you'd have a nice fancy Imperial bed to fuck me senseless in.” He teases.
And…and it feels like redemption. Redemption, or maybe salvation. Soon Cal is prone beneath him, crying out his name with a quiet ferocity, and Bode pins a hand above him by one sinfully slim wrist, and kisses a flushed, freckled neck. They are so different, and yet they are both the same, banked fire, Cal hot and red and bright and Bode the silent flames of burning hydrogen. Cal's nails rake up Bode's back, leaving thin red welts that will sting later under a hot shower.
They move together with practised ease, dragging breathless moans from one another that are muffled by heated kisses.
Bode lets out a near-silent breath when Cal falls apart underneath him, crashing back onto the bed with a cry he muffles with his free hand. Bode links their fingers and snaps his shaking hips, following him over and under, and he lets his weight drop on the young Jedi because he knows Cal likes to feel it.
Maybe it grounds him like nothing else in the galaxy really can.
Bode doesn't know, he never thinks to ask.
A comm beeps. Bode can't parse who it belongs to for a moment until Cal groans. “I'm late.” He admits, voice a quiet, hoarse huff. Their eyes meet, brilliant viridian and pitch dark brown, and something heated and unspoken passes between them. Bode lets him up, watches him dress quickly, tapping out a message to Gerrera on his comm. Bode should probably let Luthen know the mission was a success.
He would leave out the part where Cal crash landed into the middle of it, but he knows full well Luthen will already know about it.
He watches Cal leave, and collapses back onto the bed.
Fuck it. Luthen and Denvik can wait. He needs to fucking sleep.