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Armed barnacles against stubborn Negotiator

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15

A kiss because I have literally been watching you all night and I can’t take anymore

 

At the end, when everything had been done, Sidious dead and the galaxy getting, slowly, better, the clones and the Jedi had learned about Order 66. Everybody had been horrified and a few Jedi had long hours of meditation ahead of them to be sure the revelation of what almost had been done to their men didn’t make them Fall.

But nobody took him worse than the vode.

To be in that way stripped of their free will, of the little part of free will that had been there…and to be stripped to kill their Generals. They had been made for the Jedi, they were theirs, as they were the Jedi’s. To learn they were supposed to kill them to the last one, to the last Commander, the last Knight, the last shiny, the last baby… The clones left. In masse, they deserted and ran to the only place they had known outside of war: they ran to Kamino and some cloners had difficult questions asked, a blaster in front of their flat noses.

And they stayed. When the last one of them had been operated of the chips. When they saw on the holonet the Republic and the Separatist finally beginning to negotiate after Sidious’ scheme had been brought to light. When Chancellor Organa was elected.

They stayed and they stayed and they stayed, clinging to their salted city like some sort of armed to the teeth barnacle.

They stayed until the Jedi finally came for them.

“It’s time to come home.” Master Koon had said, soaked to the last tunic, outside of the blast doors of Tipoca city.

“Open the doors.” Master Gallia had pleaded.

“We miss you, friends.” Master Billaba had said.

“You can’t stay here all your life. There is a whole galaxy in peace for you to explore and learn.” Master Windu had remarked, slightly exasperated, before sneezing.

“Come on, it’s been six months since Sidious’s death, it’s getting ridiculous!” Young Caleb Dume had tried. It had been devious of the Jedi to try sending a young one and three vode had needed to sit on their brother Stance to be sure he wouldn’t sneak out to meet with his friend, but this time, like every time, the doors had stay closed, the Jedi out in the rain, the clones inside, decided to stay here, here where they couldn’t hurt their Jedi.

Then the Negotiator had come, at dawn, and a rare ray of sun had seemed to crown him in fire, his hair glittering.

Some vode had spoken of disabling the audio of the external sensors of the doors: that man’s tongue was a weapon, after all, way more dangerous that the blue lightsaber on his belt, but Kenobi had said nothing. He had simply unfolded a seat and…and done nothing. Only waited in full view of the principal door’s cameras. Ten minutes after, it had started to rain like it did on Kamino. Kenobi had simply raised his cloak around his head.

“This idiot will catch his death.” Helix, Kenobi’s troops medic, had said two hours later when it became evident the Jedi wasn’t using the Force to shield himself from rain.

“Every man of the 212th shadowed by one of the 501th. You eat together, sleep together, shower together. Fives, I know what you want to say, don’t. ” Rex had decreed, earning himself a truly impressing glare of Cody.

“We’re totally able to control ourselves, thank you.”

“That’s not you I’m the most worried of.” Rex had answered.

“Oh come on,” Helix was yelling. “Does he really intent to sleep here? On that kriffin folding bed, outside in the rain? He has a perfectly good ship right here! Did he lose the last of his brain’s cells? I’m gonna tell him…” and Helix was already half outside the room before a brother stopped him.

“And Kenobi had been here for two hours.” Rex remarked.

Fifty six hours, that was what Kenobi had needed. He had eaten cold rations in the rain, slept on a coat in the rain, stayed in the rain, and a less stubborn human being, or one without the Force, would probably have renounced, or caught his death, long before that. It had simply come to that.

A lover watching his lover by the eyes of the cameras, his gaze retracing hours after hours the shape of Kenobi’s face, slightly distorted by the transmission, and only stopping when his brother came to fetch him and insisted others kept watch behind the monitors.

A long, long night, after another long day of watching Kenobi doing his best to catch a pneumonia. Kix had sedated Helix, who was foaming at the mouth at the sheer idiocy of his general.

Cody had watched all night, incapable of even leaving his seat to try for sleep. He had watched like a man possessed, hours after hours, what little the outside lights let see of Obi-Wan’s shape in the coat. And then at dawn, he had left the room. Nobody had tried to stop him, even when he had arrived to the doors.

For the first time in months, he had gone outside and simply woken up Obi-Wan with a kiss.

Just before dragging him under a warm shower, half growling, half menacing, and totally not appeased by the “Yes, dear.” And “Of course, Cody” and “Of course I have had my shoots against pulmonary infections.”