#pre-codywan

“Oh, sure, in lightsaber combat,” Bly says. “Secura’s great, but she wasn’t trained for leading us into battle. Apparently, most Jedi didn’t think they’d ever be leading an army.

“And those that do know what they’re doing learned from experience in some of the previous planetary wars. And usually they weren’t leading troops,” Gree moans. The man has his head on the table and has had it there ever since mentioning his frustration over some of General Yoda’s recent shenanigans.

“Kenobi knows how to lead us,” Cody says.

“Must be that Melida/Daan crap,” Fox says. He’s the only one of them that’s still sitting straight and looking as pompous as ever. His promotion to captain of the Coruscant guard had made him nearly unbearable, but he was the only one with all the gossip on everything that the rest of the commanders begrudgingly invited him along on their occasional nights out.

“The what?”  

“Didn’t you read his personnel file?”

“It was six hundred pages,” Cody says. “Besides, Alpha gave me the highlights when I took command.”

“Alpha can’t read to save his own life,” Bly says. “He’s been bashed on the head too much.”

“Shut up, Bly,” Cody says. “What’s Melida/Daan?”

“The start of your general’s military career. He had quite the padawanship. Lots of planetary incidents and wars, but that was the first one where he actually led Force-nulls into battle.”

“He never mentioned it.”

“Probably cause the whole thing was a damn mess. They were all cadet-aged, or so.”    

“Cadets don’t belong in battle,” Cody says and sets his drink down. He gets shakily to his feet before realizing this might not be his best idea, but he’s too invested in it now to back down. “I’m going to talk to him.”

“Your bill,” Fox growls before Cody gets too far.

Cody tosses a few credits towards the bartender and hails a taxi. The droid gives him a once over, no doubt scanning for credits, before letting him in.

“Jedi Temple,” Cody says, then realizes he smells like alcohol. This isn’t a good idea. Kenobi doesn’t need to know about Cody’s dalliances. “Actually, GAR barracks.”

 ~

Cody wakes up in the morning with a splitting headache, which he quickly treats with the hypo he had left for himself the night before. Once the pain clears, he fishes through his desk for Kenobi’s personnel file. He skims over the Melida/Daan section, finds some disturbing developments he isn’t sure what to make of, and decides he’s put this off for long enough.

He hails a taxi and heads to the Temple. He’s fairly certain Kenobi will be there. Kenobi didn’t strike him as the kind of soldier that spent their leave getting as far from their comrades as possible. Kenobi seemed to like he would spend his leave burying himself in work and planning in order to avoid thinking about anything but the war out of fear of where those thoughts would lead to. Like Cody does.

“Sir?” Cody says. He taps on the buzzer outside Kenobi’s door. “I need to speak to you.”

A few moments later, the door slides open and Kenobi appears. He’s dressed in loose, casual clothing and his hair is slightly rumpled. “What’s going on?” Kenobi says. “It’s four in the morning.”

Cody glances at his comm and the time indicator. Oops. “Uh,” he says as his mouth goes dry. “It can wait. Never mind.”

“Oh no you don’t,” Kenobi says, catching Cody’s arm before he can retreat. “You woke me up for this conversation, we’re having it now. Let me just get some caf. Come in.”

Cody follows Kenobi into his sparse quarters and perches on the edge of the couch. Kenobi retreats into the kitchen. Cody glances around, noting the meditation mat and the soft blanket thrown over the back of the couch. A desk occupies the opposite corner and is covered in datapads and requisition forms. A dozen empty teacups lay scattered among the datapads.

Kenobi returns from the kitchen with slightly damp hair that he had apparently tried to bring back under control with minimal success. He holds out a cup of hot caf to Cody. “You look like you need it,” Kenobi says. The vaguely dazed look he had greeted Cody with at the door is gone, replaced by the sharp, intense gaze Cody has grown accustomed to. “Something’s bothering you.”

“I had a weird night,” Cody says.

“You have a question for me.”

Cody nods. “Most Jedi don’t have the experience to blend with a battalion of clones. But you do. Because you led cadets into battle when you were a cadet.”

“I did,” Kenobi says.

“How could the Jedi let that happen?” Cody says. “There are rules against putting cadets into battle. Even the Kaminoans know that.”

“I left the Jedi Order. They weren’t responsible for it.”

“You were a cadet. You didn’t know better.”

“I was young, yes, but I had found a cause I believed was worth fighting for. That was my first experience leading others into battle. I found myself woefully unprepared. Once I got back to the Temple, I studied everything I could on the subject, despite the disapproval of the archivists. Battle strategy isn’t a fitting subject for a Jedi, but I never wanted to lead people to their deaths again.”

“But you were a youngling,” Cody says. He won’t let Kenobi try to distract him from that.

“I was,” Kenobi says.

“You shouldn’t have been left in a warzone.”

“I had a rocky beginning to my apprenticeship. Qui-gon thought I had betrayed him, so he left me there.”

“Why didn’t the Jedi send help?”

“I had left the Order. I wasn’t their responsibility anymore. Eventually, my master came back and brought an end to the war. He took me back to the Order.”

“I don’t understand,” Cody says. His finger twitches as he tries to pull the pieces together. He doesn’t like the images he sees of his general as a child, running across a battlefield with cadets behind him. He doesn’t like the thought of his general having to watch his friends die. “You were a kid.”

“We all were,” Kenobi says. “But it taught me more about war than most Jedi my age. That experience has helped me to ensure you and your brothers survive this war. I don’t regret my choices. I made a difference on Melida/Daan, but my path has always been with the Jedi. That hasn’t changed.”

Cody carefully relaxes his hands. “I don’t mean to overstep,” Cody says. “But the healers all say trauma at a young age can linger for years. If you ever want to talk about it, I’m here.”

“Commander,” Kenobi says, uncertainty in his eyes.

“We have to be able to trust each other, both on and off the battlefield. I don’t know that much about you. I want to know that man that’s leading us into battle.”