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The gunship went down like a stone.
Cody had been in worse crashes, statistically speaking, but none of them had involved Obi-Wan Kenobi being thrown violently into the bulkhead with a noise that would haunt his nightmares.
The ship became a kaleidoscope of alarms, flashing red lights, and centrifugal force. Something exploded – possibly an engine, possibly Cody’s hopes for a calm reconnaissance mission – and the gunship clipped a rock and went into a spin, skidding along the ochre cliffs of Ryloth before finally, mercifully, slamming into the ground in a cloud of dust and twisted metal.
Cody groaned, helmet knocking against the seat restraints that had kept him in place.
“General?” he croaked.
Obi-Wan was slumped against the console, his auburn hair coated in dust, blood trickling down his temple. Cody unstrapped so fast his harness snapped back and bruised his shoulder. He stumbled forward, boots slipping in spilled coolant.
“General. Obi-Wan. Sir?”
A soft groan. Blue eyes fluttered open, unfocused.
“I’m here,” Obi-Wan said, cheerfully unhelpful. “Wherever here is.”
“That’s not reassuring, sir,” Cody muttered, scrambling over. He braced one hand on the wall and gently tilted Obi-Wan’s chin up, scanning his pupils.
“Oh good,” Obi-Wan murmured. “There seems to be two of you, Commander. That’s… promising.”
Cody swore and exhaled sharply through his nose. “You’ve hit your head pretty hard, sir.”
“I gathered,” Obi-Wan said. “The ship appears to have attempted to murder us.”
The smell of smoke grew stronger, and Cody’s HUD finally caught up, lighting up with imminent explosion warnings. He didn’t hesitate.
“Okay. We’re leaving. Can you stand?”
Obi-Wan considered this with the seriousness of a man asked to solve a philosophical riddle. “I believe… the floor is moving.”
“That’s the concussion talking.”
“I don’t have a concussion,” Obi-Wan said primly, and then tried to stand, missed the concept of gravity entirely, and collapsed into Cody’s arms. Cody caught him automatically, arms wrapping around familiar robes and warm, solid weight. He ignored the way his heart did something stupid and focused.
“…of course, General,” Cody said. “No concussion at all.”
The gunship groaned ominously, and Cody didn’t wait for it to make up its mind. He hauled Obi-Wan’s arm over his shoulders and dragged them both toward the rear hatch.
Each step was a battle. Obi-Wan was dead weight except for the occasional unhelpful attempt to walk in any direction except forwards.
“You’re stepping on my foot,” Obi-Wan informed him.
“I believe that’s your foot, sir.” Cody replied.
“I thought so. Just checking.”
Cody slung Obi-Wan’s arm over his shoulder and half-dragged, half-carried him out of the smoking wreck just as something inside exploded with a final, offended roar.
They only got a few hundred meters away before Obi-Wan’s legs gave out entirely. Cody swore, scanned the area, and hauled him behind a rocky outcrop that provided minimal cover and slightly more shade. Ryloth’s sun was brutal even this late in the day, baking the sand until the heat radiated up into Cody’s boots.
Obi-Wan immediately lay back and stared up at the sky like it had personally offended him.
“Well,” he said. “That could have gone better.”
Cody pressed a hand to Obi-Wan’s shoulder, grounding himself as much as the general. He tapped his comm. Static. Nothing but static.
“Great,” he muttered. “We’re stranded. The men should come looking for us when we don't make the RV point, but it looks like we're stuck here for the foreseeable, sir.”
Obi-Wan turned his head slowly. His gaze tracked Cody with intense concentration, like a cat following a particularly interesting string.
“You’re very orange,” he said.
“That’s the armour.”
“No,” Obi-Wan said seriously. “You’re… glowing. Like a sunset. Very poetic.”
Cody stared at him. “You hit your head harder than I thought.”
Obi-Wan smiled beatifically. “Probably.”
They settled in to wait. Cody pulled off his helmet in an attempt to feel even the slightest breeze on his face, and checked Obi-Wan’s pupils and pulse every few minutes, which Obi-Wan endured with exaggerated patience.
“You’re very bossy,” Obi-Wan observed at one point.
“I’m keeping you alive.”
“And doing an excellent job,” Obi-Wan added graciously. “You always do.”
Something in Cody’s chest tightened. Obi-Wan propped himself up on his elbows, watching him with that soft, unfocused intensity.
“You’re so beautiful,” Obi-Wan said suddenly.
“And you’re so concussed,” Cody shot back, because that was safer than thinking about what Obi-Wan – what his General – had just said.
Obi-Wan laughed, bright and delighted, then winced and pressed his fingers to his temple. “Worth it.”
Cody absolutely did not think about that smile. He absolutely did not catalogue the way Obi-Wan’s eyes crinkled at the corners or how close they were, knees almost touching. He focused on practical things, like bandages and water and definitely not the way his heart was trying to escape his ribcage.
He cleaned the cut on Obi-Wan’s forehead with careful hands. Obi-Wan watched him the entire time, chin propped on his palm.
“You know,” Obi-Wan said conversationally, “if you keep touching me like that, people will talk.”
“General,” Cody deadpanned, “we are alone on a hostile planet.”
“Yes, but spiritually.”
Cody snorted despite himself. “I think that’s the head injury talking,” he said.
“Mm,” Obi-Wan hummed. He rolled onto his side, closer than necessary. Cody could feel the warmth of him through plastoid and fabric.
“You have very nice eyes,” Obi-Wan continued. “I’ve been meaning to mention that for… oh. A while. Months? Years? Time is a construct.”
Cody made a strangled noise. “You should rest.”
“I am resting,” Obi-Wan said. “I’m resting and appreciating you. Multitasking.”
This was torture. Cody stared resolutely at the still-smoking wreck of the shuttle in the distance.
“I think about you,” Obi-Wan said quietly. “When you’re not there. Which is… inconvenient. For a Jedi.”
Cody clenched his fist so tightly his glove creaked.
“That’s just the head injury talking,” he said again, but the words felt flimsy.
Obi-Wan hummed, unconvinced. “Shame. I was hoping it was my devastating charm.”
“You’re not charming,” Cody said, lying through his teeth.
“I’m extremely charming,” Obi-Wan replied, offended. “Ask anyone. They’ll tell you.”
He reached out, fingers brushing Cody’s vambrace. The touch was light, absentminded, but it sent a jolt straight through Cody.
“You take care of me,” Obi-Wan murmured. “You always do. Even when I don’t deserve it.”
“You always deserve it,” Cody replied before he could stop himself.
Silence fell.
Obi-Wan’s eyes sharpened for just a second, clarity cutting through the haze. He searched Cody’s face like he was trying to memorise it.
“There you are,” he whispered.
Cody panicked.
He gently pushed Obi-Wan back down. “Sleep, General. That’s an order.”
Obi-Wan smiled, small and tired. “Yes, Commander.”
He closed his eyes. Within minutes, his breathing evened out.
Cody sat there, heart hammering, and watched over him.
The sun began to dip lower towards the horizon. Obi-Wan dozed peacefully, occasionally mumbling things that made Cody’s heart twist – half-formed confessions, fond complaints about the lack of tea in the mess hall, and one very earnest declaration that Cody had “excellent shoulders.”
It’s the concussion, Cody told himself fiercely. It doesn’t count.
He repeated it until it almost sounded true.
.
Hours later, the distant whine of a LAAT/i engine echoed through the canyon, and Cody felt relief crash into him so hard it hurt. He leaned back against the rock and let out a shaky breath.
Obi-Wan stirred, blinking awake as the shadow of the gunship passed overhead.
“Ah,” he said. “Saved. Excellent.”
He looked at Cody, expression clearer. “Did I say anything embarrassing?” he asked lightly.
Cody’s mouth went dry.
“No, sir,” he lied. “You mostly complained about the floor moving.”
Obi-Wan studied him for a moment. Something unreadable flickered in his eyes.
Then he smiled.
“Well,” he said. “I’m glad you were there.”
“Always,” Cody said, and meant it with everything he was.
The word hung between them, heavy with all the things neither of them would say.
Above them, the gunship descended.
Cody offered his hand. Obi-Wan took it. They stood a little too close, a little too long, before stepping apart.
It’s just the concussion, Cody told himself one last time. It doesn’t mean anything.
Obi-Wan’s thumb brushed his wrist before letting go.
And Cody wondered if maybe – just maybe – it meant more than either of them was ready to admit.