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All We Can Do

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Obi-Wan takes a ten-hour nap. It’s possibly the longest he’s slept in years. And honestly, it’s a bit long for a nap but calling it that makes him feel better. A nap is acceptable, a full night of sleep is not.

Cody has fallen asleep beside him at some point, though embarrassingly he can’t remember when. Was he in the bed from the beginning?

Oh Force, did he fall asleep in the speeder on the way back to the Temple? That’s mortifying. He vaguely remembers stumbling to his quarters but nothing beyond that. He must’ve been more exhausted than he realised. How embarrassing.

Next to him, Cody breaths softly. His face is relaxed in sleep, all the worry melted away. Obi-Wan wishes he didn’t ever have to regain the tension of the galaxy. For a brief moment, he considers kidnapping the entirety of the GAR and running away to a distant planet. The logistics would be a nightmare, but he could probably do it. The population of Coruscant is far larger than the GAR, it wouldn’t be so bad.

Then he remembers he has a duty to the Jedi and the Senate as well as to the vode.

And besides, he doubts all of the men would be happy with the idea of abandoning everything. Cody, at least, seems determined to stay with him and Woffle would never leave Plo. It’s a nice idea though. He shelves it for later consideration.

Right now, he can work on getting them citizenship. It was a goal from the beginning, but the clones belonged to the Senate and no one was willing to argue it. He supposes that he’ll have to work on a campaign that plays on people’s guilty consciences and public image. Get the public to fight for the clones. Yes, that would do it. He can enlist Bail for help, and maybe Padme if she survives the scandal of her marriage.

That reminds him, he needs to reform the Jedi Order. And attempt to help Ahsoka, in any way possible.

Obi-Wan snorts, staring at the ceiling. Ah yes, such an easily achievable to-do list. Shouldn’t take more than a week. Plus negotiating the official end of the war, removing all the damned chips in his men's heads and rescuing all the cadets from Kamino. Easy peasy.

“Stop thinking so loud,” Cody grumbles, covering his head with a pillow, “Some of us are trying to sleep.”

It’s so unlike his Commander that Obi-Wan can’t help but laugh, “Sorry, my dear, so much to do.”

Cody grunts, “Well, first you can get us some breakfast. Before you pass out again from hunger, preferably.”

Ah, yes, it’s been at least three days since he last ate. Obi-Wan decides not to dignify the not so subtle scolding with a response. He’s a (barely) functional adult who can make his own poor choices.

He does, however, make breakfast. Cody stays in bed a little longer, until the smell of Obi-Wan’s fantastic recently requisitioned eggs. Apparently Master Yoda put in an order for him yesterday. How delightful. He suspects it’s a guilt gift but he’ll take it.

“You know,” Cody says, once he’s scraped his plate clean, “I didn’t expect you to be able to cook.”

Obi-Wan raises an eyebrow, “My Master couldn’t cook to save his life, so the dubious honour fell to me. And Anakin can’t boil water without setting it on fire. I have been cooking any meal not eaten in a refectory for twenty years. Tell Boil he wins the bet, and he has my gratitude for believing in me.”

That gets him a laugh, “Boil only bet that way because Waxer promised to split his winnings with him. Your self-care skills don’t make a promising picture.”

Which might be true. It’s not his fault he has too much to do to worry about things like his health. If he can fight, then he’s fine. None of his troopers seem to agree. For shame.

“Well,” he sniffs haughtily, “Boil will be getting a lot of money regardless. And I hope this will be a lesson on assumptions based on dubious evidence.”

“Sir,” Cody looks him dead in the eyes, “You haven’t eaten anything but a ration bar in five days.”

Again, Obi-Wan does not dignify that with a response.


This morning had to end eventually, but Cody wishes Senator Organa could have waited another hour at least. He hasn’t seen his general this relaxed in- well, ever.

His general is spirited away to play politics, and Cody makes his way back to the level of the Temple where most of the troopers are staying. The 212th has set up in the prime position near the door with the 501st. Everyone who sees him smirks like they know where he’s been. They probably do, but none of them will believe him if he tells them all he and the general did was sleep. Obi-Wan would tie himself in ethical knots over the very idea of having sex with a subordinate, never mind a clone trooper. Besides, Cody isn’t sure he even likes sex.

“Boil!” he calls, “Turns out the General can cook. Better collect on that bet.”

“Hah,” his brother appears from behind him with Waxer in tow, “I can probably buy a whole house with that money.”

The other brothers mutter amongst themselves, exchanging looks and money and favours. Yeah, Cody’s just fed the rumour mill for the next three tendays at least. Let them talk. It keeps morale up.

Waxer and Boil are already discussing what they’re going to do with money. Probably buy a ship and visit Numa. Cody’s glad Senators Amidala, Organa, and Mothma managed to get them all the pitiful stipend. It makes betting so much more interesting.

Cody settles himself down against a wall, next to where Rex is napping. He can wait here for his general to resurface from his piles of work.


It takes three days, but Obi-Wan and Bail manage to rouse public support for the clones from all over the galaxy. When the vote is called, it should pass by two-thirds of the majority. Unheard of in the Senate. Bail has a slightly manic look in his eyes as what feels like the ten-thousandth Senator leaves his office after pledging their support. Maybe it is the ten-thousandth Senator. They have fourteen thousand planets officially supporting the bill. Obi-Wan is sure he also looks slightly manic. The vote takes place in three days, and they still have to draw up an official plan to integrate all the troopers into Republic society.

It’s been some of the longest three days of his life. It took three carefully crafted PR videos, five demonstrations and a hundred candid videos to get the ball rolling but they did it. In between all of that, Obi-Wan even managed to sleep for two hours, eat three ration bars and put Anakin in therapy. All in all, this is going a lot better than expected.

At the end of the week, he can start with the Order reforms. And he’s been exchanging comms with Ahsoka. If only Cody was here right now, then everything would be perfect.


Cody is eating with his brothers when the vote goes live. His general stands next to Bail Organa on the screen as Acting Chancellor Amedda grudgingly calls the vote. He watches them tally the votes on the screen with bated breath. He knows people have been showing support for them, but is it enough?

Boil grips the edge of the table with white knuckles. Kix isn’t even blinking. Rex doesn’t seem to be breathing at all.

It passes. Cody drops his spoon. It fucking passes by 70%. Holy shit. The general did it, he actually fucking did it.

The mess hall is absolutely silent for a moment, then it erupts into cheering and shouting and crying. Cody leans back in his seat, relieved. The general did it. They’re citizens of the Republic now. Holy shit.


Anakin hasn’t seen his master since he cried all over him. Obi-Wan has sent him numerous comms and directed him to a mind healer, but he hasn’t actually seen him in eight days. Of course, during this period of time Obi-Wan has gotten the clones citizenship and a fucking planet to live on. All Anakin has done is eat and cry and think about his mistakes. And spend time with Padme, who is officially on maternity leave.

Today, though, Obi-Wan has to come see them. Because today, Ahsoka is coming home.