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His sword wasn’t where he had left it.
Ben tried to remain calm, but he could feel the need to scrabble through the sand around him, his hands moving almost of their own accord, faster and faster, but….his sword was gone.
“Fuck,” he breathed out, moving from his crouching pose to go down to his knees, scooping the sand to no avail. It was well and truly gone.
Surprising and yet not, he allowed, sitting back and allowing his hands to rest on his knees. He’d chosen the spot specifically because it was nearly inaccessible–a five day trek through the burning sands of the desert and no water source to make the journey easier. Even then, in any direction, the surrounding villages—if you could even call them that–weren’t exactly home to any large number of people, and those people were beaten down by years of war and famine. He himself, though he’d made the journey easily enough when he’d first come here, had run into trouble getting here.
Then again, if anyone had been able to get here despite the odds, and they were, like him, attuned to the type of magic that made the sword—well, it would have been relatively easy to find. It would have been easier for him because it was made by him, and from his magic, but other users would still be able to sense it. There weren't many left in the world, though, and of those, very few who would come to this part of the world. He hadn’t buried it deep for that reason, unconcerned even by the local raiders that called the desert their home. They would have had more interest in the water rations he carried then and now than in the metal that had been, if not his life, then a part of himself. An extension of his arm that he’d had to give up because…
Flashes of the single worst week of his life—his men turning on him, his escape from them, from….well he wouldn’t think of him. He’d felt the threads of his battalion slip away. For one horrible moment, he’d thought them all dead and then they’d tried to kill him. And then finding out every member of his Order was probably dead and gone—finding the man he’d raised had broken with them and joined with the newly crowned Emperor, that Anakin had been the one to kill a great number of their brothers and sisters in arms, even the young ones they were charged with overseeing. Finding that not only had Anakin done all that but…for years he’d known and said nothing about his relationship with Padmé, even though they were forbidden, because he’d understood, but he hadn’t realized….he would have been happy, he knew, that Anakin was to be a father.
Despite everything, the order, their vows, the war. In any other circumstance he would have been happy for him. But he knew what he had to do, what Yoda had, right or wrong, told him he had to do. Even if it broke his heart, then and now, Anakin was gone. He’d seen it in the magic signatures left behind in their temple, when he’d called them up over Yoda’s objections and watched—and he’d seen it when he watched Anakin choke the woman he loved, the mother of his children. And then he’d left him to die. He couldn’t bear to watch. He should have given him that at least, for the man he'd been and what he'd meant to Ben, but he could feel Padmé slipping away—so he’d gone to her, because he could do one last thing for the man Anakin had been. He could try to save Padmé.
He hadn’t even succeeded at that. The children–Luke and Leia–had survived, but…maybe he was more like Yoda than he let himself believe sometimes. Maybe he was punishing himself like Yoda was punishing himself in his exile. For failing Anakin and Padmé…his Order….his men. He hadn’t known, hadn’t sensed anything wrong. Staying away from the children was easy on one hand—he didn’t think he could open his heart to them, or keep his worry for them, about them, from them. On the other hand, he wished he could know the children that were what remained of his friends. Watching out for them, guarding them from a distance was all he could allow himself.
He was drawn from his thoughts by cool metal against his neck. His own sword, he knew, something in him settling despite the situation at being near it again.
“The Obi-Wan I knew wouldn’t have ever let himself be caught off guard like this,” and gods that voice.
It had once been the last thing he’d heard every night, the first thing every morning. The scope of his days through endless battles and campaigns, planning and fighting side by side always, his life had hinged on that voice. He hadn’t gone as far as Anakin, hadn’t completely abandoned the vows and orders that made him a Knight and General, but they’d made promises to each other. After the war had been a litany and a prayer, a sacred promise between them. They both held their duty too high to abandon it for themselves, not when they were needed, but they’d….he’d thought they’d loved each other.
“Obi-Wan died five years ago,” he whispered, closing his eyes, but doing nothing to move away from the blade at his neck. “I’m what’s left.”
Cody made a disgusted noise behind him. “Wallowing again, General?”
His eyes flew open at that, and in a voice that he knew sounded more like himself than he’d sounded since that horrible week, protested, “I never wallowed.”
The sword fell away from his neck, and slowly, cautiously, he turned to face Cody. He’d expected to find him…changed. And he was. His armor, once colorful, was dull and monochrome–grey for mourning his mind supplies–but the pattern was still that sunburst that had been so Cody. And his eyes…his eyes still held the tender gentleness that Obi–Wan had so loved to see directed his way by this man. Ben couldn’t stop himself from loving it despite…the echo of Cody’s voice in his head, telling their men to fire on him….
“Come to finish the job, my dear?” he couldn’t help himself from asking.
Cody’s face crumpled at that, whatever self control he’d been exerting falling away, and he collapsed to the sand, scooting forward until they were knee to knee. Ben held his breath, hardly daring to hope, as Cody flipped the sword in his hand, holding the hilt out to him. He let his hand rest on top of Cody’s, a shuddering breath leaving him at the contact, and then pushed the sword to the ground. He heard the tell-tale, oh so familiar, thunk in the sand on his other side. Cody’s helmet, he knew.
“I’m sorry, Obi-Wan. The Emperor—he did something to our minds and we couldn’t stop ourselves. I wouldn’t have ever—” Cody stopped, leaning forward and resting their foreheads together. “I thought you were dead.”
Ben let his hands come up, resting them on Cody’s cheeks. Absently, he let his thumb wipe away a tear that fell from Cody’s eye, “I go by Ben now.” This is my life now, he thought, knowing that what he meant was I want you to be a part of this new life.
He felt more than anything Cody’s small laugh at that. “Just when I’d been able to get over calling you general, you had to switch it on me didn’t you.”
“I was hiding, not trying to inconvenience you.”
Cody pulled back slightly, bringing his own hands to cup Ben’s face. “It would have been more of an inconvenience if you’d been smart enough to change your last name too.”
He felt his lips pull up, the familiar concern and gentle chiding in Cody's tone leaving him unable to do anything else—”I didn’t think anyone would look for me. I thought the Empire considered me dead—and no one would think to look for me here of all places.” a pause, as he let himself look over Cody’s face, noting that exhaustion in the man’s face, his heart twinging at just how good this was–even if this was a trap, he wouldn’t trade being able to see Cody again for anything, “How did you find me?”
“I heard rumors. A man who seemed to want to help but wouldn’t let himself. Even that’s suspicious now. And of course, your last name,” Cody released his own shuddering breath. “There was no mention of your blade on you, so I didn’t want to hope it was really you. Maybe a fan from the old days, taking your name to spit in the face of the Empire. But I figured if it was you, you’d either hidden the sword or lost it. And I was always good at finding it.”
Because Obi-Wan’s magic had made the sword–it was a part of his heart, and so was Cody, so it called to…he hadn’t wanted to call Cody anything as prosaic as the love of his life then when it had happened over and over, the blade getting knocked from his hand and seemingly finding its own way to Cody, but it was probably the best explanation.
There were tears in his own eyes, he knew, and it was all too much. “I thought you were gone. You, what made you and your brothers yourselves….I felt it go out of existence. I mourned you these years, love, so tell me now why you’ve found me—”
Cody pulling him into his arms cut off his stream of words. He was clutched to a chest, and he let his magic reach out for the first time in years, and there Cody was at the end of the strongest tether in his mind. Not that horrifying blank, but him.
“Gods, Cody,” he breathed into the man’s neck. “I thought I’d lost you.”
The hands clutched him harder for a moment. “I thought I’d lost you too.”
Later, they’ll talk. He’ll take Cody to his home, what he hopes can be their home, his lonely bed becoming theirs, and the five day return journey ahead of him feels less daunting than it had mere hours before. He’ll tell him why he’d come to find his sword–and maybe they’d make a plan together. Now that they were back together. Their plans had always been better when they were together. He’ll tell Cody why he was even in this part of the word. He’ll ask about Cody’s brothers, about what Cody had been doing in the years between them. He knows Cody will want to help his brothers out of whatever the Emperor has done to them, and he’ll support that any way he can. He might not be able to leave Luke and Leia entirely, but the back of his mind is already thinking of ways he can help without leaving, or even only leaving for short times.
Maybe he’ll find the balance between himself–let himself be a little more of the Obi-Wan he’d been before.
He's not sure who pulls back first, the meeting of their lips soft and gentle for now, and he lets himself believe in this, that Cody has made his way back to him.
They'll get what they’d put off, that life they’d promised themselves and each other. For now, though, he lets himself stay in the arms of the man he’s loved and mourned and got back, clutching Cody with the same strength Cody clutches him.