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What is that you keep saying?
It’s Mando’a.
I know that, but what does it mean?
Do you want me to teach you?
Cody hated Mando’a.
Perhaps hate was too strong a word, but he certainly disliked it. He disliked the way it sounded, and the way the sentences seemed to run for miles, and the way his brothers spoke it so easily even when he couldn’t get the hang of it. He tried to let it go; he tried to remind himself that his lack of expertise wasn’t really his fault, but Cody was not good at “releasing his emotions” like the Jedi.
He was familiar enough with the language, anyway. Hard not to be when the thousands of people you lived with all spoke it. He knew vod and di’kut, both words hurled across the mess hall during many good-natured arguments. It was the intricacies of the language that Cody didn’t get.
Trying not to roll his eyes at the foreign discussions he’d overheard throughout the years had become a challenge. A challenge he sometimes failed.
Cody still remembered the last thing Jango had said to him before the galaxy exploded into chaos. He made Cody a promise, one he hadn’t been able to keep due to a series of.. unfortunate circumstances.
You work too hard, ad. Take a break- it’ll do you good, I swear. I’ll teach you Mando’a so you don’t feel like you’re doing nothing. Yes I promise, Kote.
Kote.
Force save the next person who called him Kote.
He didn’t want to admit it- none of his brothers did- but Jango’s death had hit them hard. Some harder than others, of course. Cody hadn’t been there to see it, but word traveled fast among their ranks. Jango- buir, as some called him- was fighting for the wrong side, and had paid the ultimate price.
It was the first, and only, time Cody ever regretted the way he threw himself into his training. If he hadn’t, if he’d listened to Jango and taken a break, perhaps he wouldn’t feel so behind. Admittedly, Cody wasn’t really “behind” anyone, but it was a feeling he couldn’t shake. All his brothers spoke Mando’a, even the ones who hadn’t been taught by Jango directly. Cody had missed the lessons in favor of perfecting his hand-to-hand combat skills or refining his sharpshooting. As a commander class clone, he valued memorizing battle strategies over verb tenses.
All his training had paid off, of course. Cody’s advanced knowledge of tactics and battle readiness had saved him and his men on multiple occasions. Cody was well versed in the language of battle- it was his social skills that were lacking. Not that he wasn’t friendly with his men, they all got along quite well actually. Even so, Cody didn’t miss the way most conversations hushed when he entered the room, or the fact that he seemed to be out of loop with most of the men’s inside jokes.
The only people Cody really considered his friends were never around often. Rex, Wolffe, and Bly were off leading their own battalions, and Fox had it out easy back on Coruscant. The war effort didn’t allow them to see much of each other (unless it was to deal with yet another catastrophe), which meant Cody spent most of his time alone and very worried for his friends.
At least he had his general. Cody and General Kenobi had grown incredibly close over the years. He’d been witness to countless of Kenobi’s great Jedi feats, and had grown to trust the man with his life. They’d spent countless nights together, bent over maps and holotables, bombarding Seppie camps, and trash talking the Republic and it’s endless paperwork. All told, Cody thought he knew his general pretty well. Cody thought he knew his general well until one fateful mission briefing.
The briefing was just coming to a close, and Kenobi had dismissed all troopers present. Boil made some comment to Waxer as they left, it’s Mandalorian meaning lost on Cody. He allowed his eyes to roll beneath the security of his bucket.
Kenobi, however, laughed.
You’re sure you can teach me?
Mando’a isn’t that different from Basic.
How so?
Perhaps if you listened for a moment you’d know!
The realization that even Obi-Wan Kenobi had learned Mando’a before Cody did hurt his pride, albeit only a little. Cody tried to question him on the matter, but Kenobi didn’t seem keen on answering. Instead, he brushed it off as just another one of the many languages he’d picked up, being the Great Negotiator that he was. He seemed more surprised that Cody didn’t know the language.
“Fett died before he got the chance to teach me. I never really picked it up after,” Cody explained.
Kenobi was sympathetic to the matter. Enough so that he offered to teach Cody. He mulled it over, very briefly. He didn’t dislike the idea, but was also unwilling to dedicate time to something that wasn’t important to the war effort. He’d been on the edge of declining when someone else decided for him.
“C’mon Cody, just do it,” Trapper called from down the hall. “We all know you wanna learn.”
And, just like that, Kenobi was whisking Cody off to his personal rooms. Protesting would’ve been futile. Cody knew that once the general’s mind was made up about something, there was no stopping him. He did question why they needed to be in the general’s quarters to learn though.
The answer: books.
General Kenobi had countless books. Mandalore, Mando’a, the history of the language and the planet, the culture; he had a book for every subject you could think of. Not only that, but he also had his fair share of books written in the language itself. He assured Cody that Mando’a was not difficult, and he’d be reading in no time. Cody was less sure, but didn’t argue.
He was instructed to make himself comfortable while Kenobi began going through his collection, pulling books from shelves and stacking them on the desk Cody sat at. The height it reached was concerning, and Kenobi laughed at the face Cody was making. He began to brew some tea and pulled the first book off the stack.
As a clone, Cody was engineered to adapt. He was an especially quick study when it came to weapons and tactics, but language didn’t seem to come as easy. A fact that became increasingly frustrating the longer he sat. Having a hard time learning was one thing. It was a completely different thing to have a hard time learning something both Kenobi and his brothers insisted was easy.
Only a few hours into their lesson and Cody wanted to pull his hair out. Kenobi, sensing his commanders frustration, or simply seeing it written all over his face, decided to allow him a short break. He reheated the tea and poured them both a cup. While not his drink of choice, Cody was in no position to decline.
As they drank, Cody thought (for what must have been the millionth time) that Kenobi was an incredibly good man. He was charismatic, an admirable leader, and a good friend. Cody had become very comfortable with his general over the years, but there were still some situations he didn’t know how to navigate. Sitting with his general, alone in his rooms, was one of them. He wasn’t sure what he should say, if anything at all, so decided on quietly sipping the tea in his hands instead.
Kenobi, on the other hand, seemed completely in his element. He let a brief silence settle over the room, before he began to speak. Cody was expecting questions regarding how he felt about Mando’a, or their next campaign, or even how his daily duties were coming along. Instead, Kenobi asked about Kamino. He asked about what it was like growing up in their facilities with Jango and his brothers. He asked about Rex, how they met and became so close, and how he felt about the war.
If there was one thing Kenobi excelled at, it was making uncomfortable situations incredibly comfortable. They talked for some time, about anything that came to mind, until Cody’s internal clock told him the night cycle was beginning. He thanked Kenobi for his time and hospitality, gladly taking one of his many books to study until their next lesson.
There’s no way that’s proper grammar!
Mando’a is a very concise language.
Yes, but you only said half a sentence.
Context is key. Listen again.
Cody was used to his general taking on missions of his own.
During their time together, he’d grown accustomed to scanning the battlefield for his general’s unusually bright hair. He used to watch for Kenobi’s saber, cutting through droids with ease, but after his 5th lightsaber-retrieval-mission, decided that was no longer an option. He would, of course, prefer if Kenobi stayed within arms reach at all times, but war had a tendency of giving you the exact opposite of what you wanted.
He tried not to worry about General Kenobi while he was off galavanting on his own (there was a time when he didn’t worry, believe it or not), but the Jedi made it increasingly difficult with each passing mission.
Kenobi was a very competent Jedi. Cody didn’t doubt his general’s combat skills; it was his self-preservation instinct that worried him. That is to say: the general’s self-preservation instinct was completely non-existent. He’d witnessed Kenobi throw himself in front of enough troopers to say so confidently; he, nor any of the medics needed any further proof. That didn’t stop him, however, from returning from almost every solo mission he took, bruised, battered, and swearing vehemently that he did not need medical attention.
Sometimes, these missions were less “solo” and more “Jedi only”. Cody wished, deeply, that those missions allowed him some respite, but it was often the exact opposite. Especially when General Skywalker was the Jedi in question.
Cody forced his well-placed worries away when he caught word of the general’s next mission. It had him and Skywalker, along with the 501st, en route to Mandalore to aid with their slight terrorist problem. He made Rex swear that he’d keep both the generals out of trouble. Then, he made himself busy.
In the general’s absence, Cody was next in the chain of command. That meant he was given twice his usual amount of work, and was expected to do it in half the time. Cody didn’t mind being busy though. Being busy kept him sane, most days. However, keeping busy was making him considerably less sane this time around, as he continued to try and teach himself Mando’a.
Before taking his leave, General Kenobi had given Cody a small stack of books to aid his studies. Now, alone in his room in the late hours of the night, Cody had no idea where to even start. He tried to put it together in a way he thought made sense; he tried to structure his own lessons the way he remembered Kenobi doing it, but was only successful in confusing and frustrating himself.
He pushed through it though.
The first few nights saw him asleep at his desk, hunched and drooling over whichever book he was struggling to understand. Then, as he fell into a new routine of studying, found himself making strides in his learning. It came as a surprise, one morning, when he was able to recall the notes he’d taken the previous night. What was more of a surprise was that he found himself wanting to tell someone about his small achievement.
He didn’t dare, though. Cody was a Marshal Commander, in charge of the lives of several thousand men. He was not a youngling. He didn’t need validation for remembering notes. So he kept to himself, when he could, and continued to study. All the while, forcing away his growing worry for his general. He hadn’t heard from Rex in a few cycles. He thought he’d be relieved when he finally heard his brother’s account of what happened on their mission.
Between Skywalker’s loose lips, and the clones’ extensive comms network, word spread fast throughout their ranks.
Had she said the word, he would have left the Jedi Order.
Wait.. but you said-
Rules can be ignored if the situation is correct.
Such as?
Usually song and poetry.
Life aboard the Negotiator went back to normal after the general returned. As much as Cody would have liked to greet his general with the rest of the battalion, he was too busy to slip away. He spent hours filling out datapad after datapad of logistics for the Republic. He was nearly ready to throw them all out an airlock and turn in when there was a light tapping on his door.
It opened to reveal the smiling, tired figure of General Kenobi. Cody instinctively stood at attention. He hadn’t been expecting the general to come looking for him, not so soon anyway. Kenobi gestured for Cody to relax, and asked if he could come in. Cody obliged, of course, and moved back to his desk.
He pulled the more important datapads from his pile, the ones that needed the general’s input, and began filling him in on all he’d missed. Kenobi didn’t seem at all interested, however. He set the datapads back down and leaned casually on the wall. Cody’s report faltered as he watched.
He didn’t understand how Kenobi could be so comfortable all the time. This was his own room and Cody felt strangely on edge from the whole situation. The room was quiet, filled only by Kenobi’s deep, steady breathing. He finally turned to look at Cody, who straightened again out of habit, but relaxed at Kenobi’s gentle laughter.
“Tion gar habira?” the general asked, taking Cody by surprise.
He allowed himself a moment to process the words, but couldn’t quite understand. “You’re.. Asking me something,” he finally answered. “But I don’t know what habira is, Sir.”
“Your studying is coming along better than I expected,” he replied. “It’s impressive what you can recognize in such a short time.”
Cody couldn’t stop the smile forming on his lips. It felt good to have someone recognize his hard work, even if he really hadn’t made that much progress. “Thank you Sir.”
“You don’t mind that I'm here, do you?” Kenobi asked. “I’ve had a rather stressful series of days and your presence is quite calming.”
“I am?” Cody asked.
“Oh yes, your force signature is strong. Steadying, you could say.”
“General, can I ask you about that? The Jedi way, and such.”
“What would you like to know?”
“You live by a code don’t you? Us clones, my vode , we have something of an unspoken code, but from what I understand, the Jedi code is strict. What’s that like? Living that way, I mean.”
General Kenobi tilted his head and began to run a hand through his beard. A contemplative look passed over his face, but his smile never wavered. “Well, I suppose it feels normal to me. Similar to you and this war, I’ve never known any different. I understand how the code can feel strict to an outsider, but I often find it to be comforting.”
“It feels a little un-human to me, if you don’t mind my saying so Sir.”
Kenobi laughed at that. “This is your room, Cody, you can say whatever you like. Neither of us are on duty at the moment.”
Cody sighed, “I'm always on duty, Sir.”
“I understand, Commander,” Kenobi laughed again. “What about it feels un-human to you?”
“There’s a heavy focus on repressing your emotions isn’t there? And that thing about attachments and relationships just feels.. unnatural. How can you be expected to not feel anything?”
“Because that's not the expectation my friend. Jedi are rather encouraged to feel and connect with others. The code emphasizes keeping those feelings and relationships in check, so as to keep you from straying down a dark path.”
Ba’slana ti ni.
Dar’leser.
Ni copaani gar.
Ni kar’tayli.
The war continued to rage, and Cody continued to learn Mando’a.
The going was faster with General Kenobi’s help. It was only a few months before Cody was able to understand most of the language. With his newfound skill, he suddenly understood why the men spoke so softly around him. Most of their lunchtime conversations consisted of distasteful potty humour, or in-depth debates about which woman’s portrait was best for a ship’s nose art.
Cody was not fond of these discussions, but he allowed the men their fun. He usually ignored their many musings until he caught his own name among their whispers. Specifically, he heard whispers of him and Kenobi. He supposed Trapper hadn’t told the men he was learning Mando’a. They probably wouldn’t have been so bold with their words had they known.
It came from the medics first. Cody had broken his leg on their most recent campaign, and had been forced to the medbay by the general. He’d stayed with Cody for some time, laughing through the daggers Cody glared at him, until he was called away by yet another comm from his Council. The medics worked quietly around Cody for a few minutes until one of them- a shiny Cody didn’t know the name of yet- spoke up.
“Tion alor guuror b’al’verde?” he asked.
Binary, the senior medic, only laughed as he continued with his work.
After that first incident, Cody listened very carefully. He realized General Kenobi was very often the subject of conversation. Cody knew that many of the men in the 212th thought very highly of their general. Typically, the most vocal were the ones who’d been saved by Kenobi’s self-sacrificing ways. Meaning, of course, it was most of them. He’d heard the word copyc thrown around often, but only recently understood that they were calling their general attractive. Cody couldn’t really argue.
General Kenobi was, objectively, very handsome. Combine that with his tendency to put his men’s lives before his own and his unbreakable loyalty and you had a recipe for disaster. Perhaps a would-be disaster, anyway. The men’s sense of duty far outweighed any of their personal feelings. The things they spoke of were heavily against regulations- enough so to have them sent back to Kamino for reconditioning- but, Cody supposed, thoughts were not illegal. As long as none of them acted on their desires, no action had to be taken. That didn’t, however, calm the discomfort in his gut when he overheard what the men thought of Kenobi. He couldn’t quite place why it made him uncomfortable though. Eventually, he decided the problem was hearing his own name in conjunction with Kenobi’s.
Now that he was privy to his brother’s language, he couldn’t believe just how much they talked about him. He would’ve been offended if it wasn’t mostly just childish rumours. Rumours which always died down around a large campaign.
Umbara was tough. No one thought taking the planet would be easy, but they also didn’t anticipate just how hard it would be. Cody, Kenobi, and a small squadron had gone ahead of the rest of the battalion, hoping to cut an opening through the enemy lines. The general was prattling off orders, Cody taking mental notes and creating strategies as he did. When he was finished, he turned to Cody and pulled their foreheads together in a Keldabe kiss. Cody’s whole body froze at the action.
Cody had seen shinies from the same batch do it before their first big battle, praying they all made it out alive. It was always the first and last thing he and Rex did when they were together; to the clones, a Keldabe kiss was an incredibly intimate show of affection.
He didn’t think Kenobi knew that.
The sound of his brother’s voice brought Cody back to the present. He realized General Kenobi was gone, and an entire squadron of his brothers was looking to him for orders.
The rumours got worse.
Remember, my dear Obi-Wan. I loved you, always. I always will.
Cody noticed the way General Kenobi leaned on him, both physically and mentally, after the Duchess of Mandalore died. The general was worryingly bad at taking care of himself, but the issue was only intensified by the Duchess’ passing. Cody often found himself wrapping an arm around Kenobi’s waist and leading him to the mess for food or his room for sleep. The bags beneath his eyes grew deeper and darker with each passing day.
The final straw was the day the general was nowhere to be found. It was about midday by the time one of the bridge officers, Daybreak, commented on it. All eyes turned to Cody, silently asking for an explanation. He only sighed, shaking his head as he marched away through the Negotiator.
He lifted his hand to wrap on the metal of Kenobi’s door, but it slid open before he got the chance. The room was startlingly dark, but Cody’s eyes adjusted quickly. He could just make out his general’s figure on his bed, leaned against the durasteel wall and staring out at nothing. Cody sat, carefully and quietly, next to him. The room was silent for a long while, Kenobi not so much as stirring at Cody’s presence.
“Do you want to tell me about her?” Cody finally asked once he’d had enough of the quiet.
“What?” Kenobi responded, voice ragged.
“I know what it’s like to lose someone… someone you love. I find it helps to talk about them- remember them. You can tell me about her if you’d like.”
There was another breath of silence before Kenobi started. “She was kind.” Cody watched him close his eyes, the faintest smile pulling the corners of his lips. “No, she was quite mean to me, actually. As independent and fierce as they come. But she had a kind heart. Always willing to help others, even if it meant putting herself in danger.”
“She sounds an awful lot like this Jedi I know,” Cody teased, relishing in the small laugh it pulled from Kenobi.
“I wouldn’t quite say that. The lives we both lead… led… well, they took us down 2 very different paths.”
“You loved her?” Cody asked, not quite sure why. He wanted to apologize immediately, but was stopped by the small nod of Kenobi’s head.
“I did. At one time, anyway. Jedi are warned not to form attachments. To be able to let go when the time comes.” He took a shaky breath, leaning over to rest his head on Cody’s shoulder. “It wasn’t her time, Cody. She didn’t deserve to die that way.”
Cody nodded, completely understanding the feeling.
“She taught me Mando’a,” Kenobi whispered, and Cody felt his heart sink to the bottom of the Kaminoan sea. Kenobi’s fascination with the language and planet suddenly made sense. Of course he would hold on to the only thing he had of his lost love. He realized then, just how different he and his general were; Kenobi held tightly to things he shouldn’t, and Cody pushed away what he should have cherished. They seemed to live parallel lives; 2 tragic stories which complimented each other in the worst and best ways.
Cody pulled his Jedi closer, vaguely aware of him whispering his remembrances as he did.
After that day, Cody and his general became virtually inseparable. A fact which only added fire to the already rampant rumours spreading through the GAR. Cody adamantly ignored his brothers, whose stares burned holes through his armor. He pretended he didn’t hear their whispers as he and the general walked, shoulders brushing, though the halls.
He supposed the general was also pretending not to notice.
Cody had finally had enough one night, while the ship whizzed through hyperspace back towards Coruscant. He’d just left General Kenobi’s office, mind consumed with details of their meeting he needed to note and archive as soon as possible. He almost didn’t notice the 2 troopers watching him, murmuring. He didn’t really need to listen anyway, he knew what they were talking about.
Then he heard it.
“Midi val ven’mureyca su?”
Cody wheeled around, all thoughts of the meeting temporarily forgotten. He recognized the troopers as 2 not-quite-shinies from the same batch; Blank and Osirus. Osiris, clearly the smarter of the 2, snapped to attention as soon as his commander’s eyes were upon him. Blank, on the other hand, nearly jumped out of his own skin before wisening up and coming to attention, terror still clear on his face.
Cody thought, briefly, he probably shouldn’t have enjoyed that as much as he did.
He allowed the 2 to shrink under the wrath of his gaze for a moment. He wasn’t even sure what he wanted to say, honestly, he just knew he couldn’t allow the men to disrespect him or their general anymore. He clenched and unclenched his fists, finally settling on something.
“Ja’haili gar urame, verde,” he said, using the tone he saved for unruly shinies. He watched the fear creep slowly into Osirus’ eyes as he realized what had happened.
“Sir yes Sir!” they called in unison.
Cody nodded, waving them off as he turned to leave. He thought, as he walked to his quarters, that he probably should have done something more serious to reprimand them. He laughed the thought away though, sure that the entire 212th must have known he could speak Mando’a now. He may have blown his secret, but the look on those trooper’s faces was worth it.
Cody stood beneath the Coruscanti sky, palms upturned to catch the white flakes falling around him. The only time he’d ever seen snow was on harsh, Outer Rim planets, where the cold ate at your bones until there was nothing left. Here, in the Core, in the heart of the city, the cold didn’t feel as unforgiving. Cody only needed a light jacket over his civis, despite Kenobi’s pleading that he wear something warmer. He turned to face his general, who was holding out a warm cup with an even warmer smile across his lips.
“Enjoying yourself, Commander?” Kenobi asked.
“Cody,” he replied, taking the cup. “I'm off-duty. And yes, I am.”
Kenobi laughed at his side, looking out across the bustling cityscape below them. He leaned into Cody’s space, a habit he’d formed which Cody didn’t particularly mind. He knew he was warmer than Kenobi anyway, who always seemed to shiver without the protection of his robes. Cody wrapped an arm around him.
Kenobi closed his eyes, enjoying the warmth. “Ni briikase ganar gar, Kote,” he said.
Cody looked at him. He thought back to the last time he’d been called Kote, after Jango’s death. Back then, he hadn’t come to terms with just how upset it made him, and poor Fox had been on the receiving end of his fury. They’d of course sorted it out by the next day, but no one dared call him Kote after.
Now, looking at the Jedi he’d silently pledged his life to, Cody felt none of the rage he had before. He felt strangely at peace, as though he’d finally discovered the part of him he didn’t even know was missing. He smiled, mostly to himself, and leaned his head against Obi-Wan’s.
“Kar’tayli, cyar'ika.”