muffled songs about rain and gross suffering swell in the bg

[unforced]

Obi-Wan Kenobi doesn't have good days--only slightly less bad ones.

He would deny this, of course--he would claim, with mild tact and sensible optimism, that a day is only as bad as you decide it must be. (Whether this came from Qui-Gon or some other Jedi proverb book--literal or figurative--remains to be confirmed.) One only has so many things in a day to worry about anyhow, he would argue, without getting oneself tied up in such unnecessary ruminations as the badness of bad days too. You take your day and you make do with it, whatever it might throw at you, and that's all you can really do in the end.

But sometimes, well....

It's raining up his nose, which is what brings Obi-Wan to his senses properly, complete with rather a lot of spluttering and coughing. Whether the chill is coming from the air itself or the unbelievable amounts of water pouring down from the sky is anyone's guess, but it bites either way. Wheezing, he shifts, feels sodden earth squish under his back--blinks against more water, and tries to lift a hand to wipe at his eyes, but his right arm responds with an entirely unwarranted stab of breathtaking pain, and that's just lovely, now isn't it? Of course.

His left arm turns out to be a great deal more cooperative, to Obi-Wan's immense relief, and he scrubs at his face with a long exhale. Something's ringing, he realizes belatedly, something beyond just his head--a klaxon alarm from not too far off at all, and he sits up slowly, right arm limp, left arm shielding his eyes from further rain as he peers around himself. The pale walls of the Separatist base loom through the rain, barely a hundred yards off; and, all around, blasted mountainside rock that had been a faded path only a few seconds ago litters the area, Obi-Wan on the side of its radius like so much of the other debris.

A mine. Of course it'd be a mine. Of course the Separatist base would notice, no mistaking the direction of those klaxons. Of course--

Obi-Wan climbs to his feet in a rather embarrassingly punch-drunk fashion, legs still trying to catch up to the rest of him and head still swimming. Absently he mops at a bloody lip--or is that blood also coming from the bloody gash on the side of his forehead? A bit difficult to say--lovely, lovely--right arm dangles useless at his side, driving needles into his shoulder with every shift, but Obi-Wan ignores that in favor of pulling his lightsaber from his belt with his left hand. He doesn't ignite it yet, instead half-staggers to the nearest rocky outcrop providing some semblance of cover (goodness knows how long it's been since the blast, how many droids might already be on their way--), slumps against its muddy side, and looks at his commlink, torn and sparking and barely still attached to his wrist.

Ah.

The realization sets in all at once, rather as a hammer might to the back of one's head, and Obi-Wan's staggering away from the rock outcrop just as quickly, trying to extend what sense of the Force he can at his current state, but eyes still straining against the curtains of rain anyhow for anything, some orange stripe or white of armor or--

"Cody? Cody! Where--oh, blast--Cody, I need your status, where are you?!"

Comments

NO WORRIES I ADORE READING ALL OF IT

[212th]

And that's what Cody took pride in--that was his job. While General Skywalker had his own flair and chemistry with Kenobi, the clone was there to be the one constant. The one thing standing firm in the topsy turvy world that was the Jedi's life. He couldn't think of any General to serve under more, and although he hadn't been there when the war started, he certainly worked his way into the position. Part of it was his duty--most of it, actually--but some parts of him genuinely considered what the General and he had as friendship. There was of course brotherhood among the troops, that was an unwritten rule. But a friend, especially one like Obi-Wan...

Well, it made him almost feel like there was more to life than being a soldier.

There's no way of knowing if his message went through, but the pain of his injury's starting to sink in, although he wouldn't admit to it, even though there's no audience to be had.

Footsteps. Yes, those are definitely footsteps, and although he's in no condition to fight, a hand reaches out and rests on his gun, something he was barely able to hold onto in the blast. Every clone goes down fighting, and he was no different.

But imagine his internal surprise when he sees Obi-Wan, rain-soaked and looking...rather worse for the wear. His grip on the gun loosens, as a threat is no longer something he considers, eyes immediately casting onto that arm before trailing up to the Jedi's face.

"Heh, been better, sir. I'll give ya that. And it looks like you've got your own to match." His arms push up from the mud, attempting to rise himself to his feet. Duty always came first, and he wasn't about to shirk it because of a broken leg. The troops, and his general. They were all his responsibility. "We should get out of sight, sir. You're not in much condition for a fight, if I'm bein' honest."

AH THEN IM GLAD AT LEAST....that the tiny novellas are an enjoyable read cries

[unforced]

Such a strange sort of rift, to lie between them even in this. Of course there's more to life than being a soldier--that would be Obi-Wan's own kneejerk insistence, should such a topic ever somehow arise. But then the second thoughts, the fact of the matter that Cody is still a clone, all of whom had been meant for battle since whatever day it was that DNA sample had been taken from Jango Fett. No, perhaps it's better this way--that they can work together with mutual comfort, and camaraderie, without all of the verbal strings necessarily attached. Obi-Wan wouldn't have been able to guess the importance of his own friendship to the Commander anyhow, given as freely and easily enough as it is--just as he tends to be unaware in general about a lot of the ways other people see him. As if he's something more than the next Jedi trying to bring a faster end to this war.

The war is still due to stretch for a long while yet, of course, either way. And then there's the here, and the now, and the two of them kneeling muddied and injured on the mountainside of some half-forgotten planet on the verge of the Outer Rim territories, a mine in recent memory and droids very probably on the way.

Another bad day, that's all.

Cody's automatic reach for his gun garners no reaction from Obi-Wan, maybe even a tiny twinge of relief somewhere in the back of his head to see that Cody's at least alert enough to still be ready for anything and everything. But carefully calm features do visibly slip for a moment, in favor of a half-exasperated smile, when Cody makes that remark and then starts attempting to pull himself upright.

"Well, what sort of commanding officers would we be if we weren't a matching set? Goodness knows we couldn't have that--" The hand on Cody's shoulder tightens a bit on the armor, then shifts to his back, something of a reprimand. "--and that leg doesn't seem like it's in much condition for anything involving standing, either. Since we're being honest, here."

A twinge, somewhere on the edge of the Force, a familiar sort of warning--Obi-Wan pauses, and casts a glance back over his shoulder--the heavy rain makes visibility difficult, but if the Force and experience is anything to go by? Well, it'd be about time for those droids to be arriving now, yes. He turns to Cody again, getting a proper frowning look at that leg. "--I'll make do with whatever fight we need rest assured, my friend. Better Masters than I have headed greater fights with much less than just an arm. ...But some cover wouldn't be such a bad idea either, it's true."

He has a habit of talking even more, the increasingly dire a situation becomes--or so Anakin would make no hesitation to claim, and probably jibe about, if he were here. Cody is doubtless more than used to it as well, by now. And so Obi-Wan doesn't think much of it, as he plots his way carefully through his musings, settling closer beside Cody and reaching over for Cody's other shoulder with his good arm instead. The both of them standing would be a good start... "Here--are your arms well? Try getting one around my shoulders here, I'll help you up--"

THEY'RE BEAUTIFUL

[212th]

The mindset was often similar, but polar opposite when it came to clones, too. The brotherhood between them was solid, it didn't need to be questioned. Friendship there came easier because they knew who they were. They were the same genetic makeup, after all. But when it came to others, that's when things got tricky. After all, to many of the people of the galaxy, they were just faceless bodies, sacrificing themselves for the future. Droids that happened to breathe. And it wasn't often that the subject of befriending a general was spoken in converstaion. In many ways, it was too much to even consider.

After all, Generals had to be ready to lose men. And when you're a clone, dying's what you're born to do.

There's a slight huff, as he looks at his leg. "Maybe next time we'll wear matching armor. To mix things up once in awhile." But what Obi-Wan said was true--there was no way he was going to be able to put weight on it. He may have had Jango Fett's resilience, but in the end, he was still human.

And when Obi-Wan seems preoccupied, looking over his shoulder, he has to insist. "General. We clones have gotten by on one leg before. A minor inconvenience." No way was he going to make the Jedi make up for their mistake.

First things first, though, he had to get up, and looking at Obi-Wan's shoulder, he follows the order suit, snaking an arm just under he shoulders. "There we go, up n' at em..."

[unforced]

"Hm, matching armor! What an idea. I'll have to make a proposal--got to keep the men on their toes, after all." A slight breath of a chuckle escapes at that, on Obi-Wan's part. "Although, I'm afraid I still haven't really gotten the hang of helmets...they'd figure the one bumping into walls probably isn't you, unfortunately."

Joking enough, but definitely tying over into the Jedi preference for wearing as little armor as possible in general, even in the thick of battle. Just the light half-plating of clone armor Obi-Wan sports for the moment had been a long endeavor in getting used to, and he's fairly certain he wouldn't be able to function half as well in full armor as his clone troopers admirably do. Not a problem, though, he'd claim--just the same as any other Jedi would--for after all, in any time of conflict, a lightsaber is all you should ever need. Hailstorms of blasterfire mean nothing with good blast-deflect form, after all, and it only builds up from there...

But Obi-Wan sniffs a bit, even as he secures Cody's arm over his shoulders and painstakingly draws the both of them upright--said sniff could easily be blamed on the rain still coming down in torrents, but it's also timed after Cody's remark on one-legged fighting, most coincidentally. "A minor inconvenience on both sides, then! Well, but that's alright. I suppose if we combine all our remaining limbs together we ought to be a functioning enough fighting unit, what do you think? Turn this inconvenience into the very font of convenience, I--"

A slight stammer, as Obi-Wan draws upright with most of Cody's weight over shoulder, supported by a combination of his own strength and the loaned strength of the Force--the pressure lances down his right shoulder, jolting through the bone of his broken arm in an electric jolt of pain, and he draws in a sharp breath through his teeth. But that's the most that Obi-Wan allows, for that particular expression (a Jedi is always calm and composed, especially when others need it more); the pain persists, hot and breathtaking, but he lets it go from thought and continues on as if nothing had happened, slight breathlessness regardless.

"--Well. But anyhow. Here, let's try for a bit of a walk, one step at a time..." The mud makes footing treacherous enough already, but Obi-Wan takes it slow, using his own intact legs to support Cody on his remaining functioning one as they move the way two younglings might work together in a protato sack race. "I think my commlink's reaching the end of its use--got hit pretty hard in the blast, I'm rather surprised it's still working. Is your comm in better shape, Commander? We'll need to check in with the men, if they're still up ahead..."

[212th]

"You'd be surprised," it comes out as a whisper, as if the situation of clones walking into objects and walls was something that occurred more frequently than it should (you can honestly thank Jango Fett for that one). But it was certainly something he'd grown accustomed to, the armour. While he'd always be somewhat amazed at the fact that Obi-Wan went with so little protection, believing in the abstract idea of the Force for protection, he'd never been one to pass up good armour. As far as Cody could tell, Obi-Wan was just more agile, and incredibly luckier.

As the jedi lifts him up, he can feel his own weight sagging on him, and the soft, but certainly audible hiss gets a slight head turn. Obi-Wan was renowned among the Clone troops as being perfectly composed at all times, and if now wasn't a sign of him taking a dislodged arm rather well, then Cody would eat his own blaster. But if there's one thing Cody refused to be, it was dead weight. So he'll slightly shift his weight, at least a little, onto his leg. It may be useless, but he'd MAKE it into something useful, as long as it helped Obi-Wan.

"I'll take your word for it, General. I know better than to say you can't do something." If Obi-Wan wanted to live, he'd certainly find a way. That was one of his best traits, and one Cody would remember.

Thankfully, the leg that Cody had broken was on the inside of their little human-walking machine, so he could rely on the Jedi's opposite foot for support, while doing the same for his own.

Quite a team, weren't they.

At the question of his commlink, he puts his free arm to his helm, testing it. There was no static, surprisingly most of the damage had been to Cody's lower half. Range was an issue, but it certainly was functional. "I'll radio the troops to a rendezvous point. If you don't mind me saying, sir, I think somewhere close ought to be a good spot to meet up."