Chapter Text
“I should get back to work.”
“Then you ought to hurry up and finish the game,” Jinn said. “You aren’t at your best today.”
He wasn’t just talking about dejarik. It was why Cody was trapped in these quarters that smelled overwhelmingly of dirt and pollen, and why he was playing dejarik against the most annoying man in the galaxy. One that happened to be very good at dejarik. For a natborn, anyway. Jinn eked out very few victories against Cody, but maybe that was how he somehow got the impression that the game was relaxing for him. Relaxation did not exist in the same room as Jinn. Cody had gotten used to it. Still didn’t like it. But that was what he deserved for having preferences, right?
Cody stared at the board for a second, analyzed it for another second, and made his move. As usual. “Still beating you, sir. Again.”
Jinn hummed and stroked his chin and took way too long to move one stupid piece. Also as usual. “And yet my remaining forces persevere.”
Ha, ha. Name of their flagship battleship was Perseverance. Very funny. Just as funny as the first fifty times he’d made the joke.
“Why do you always insist on this game?” Cody asked. Not complained, not at all. Jinn had shown him how to play it soon after they first met, and he had cheerfully designated it their bonding activity. Cody couldn’t tell if Jinn deluded himself into thinking that Cody enjoyed it, or if he just didn’t care. Or if he enjoyed that Cody thought it was a waste of time. They did not need a bonding activity. “Tactics aren’t your strong suit. It’s adaptability.” Probably said quite a bit about Jinn that his ordinarily unbeatable record in dejarik was his weak point.
“If we played games testing adaptability, you’d never win.”
“I can be adaptable in the field,” Cody said grumpily. Jinn finally stopped dawdling and made his move. It was the one that Cody predicted he would make, so Cody made his own move instantly. “That’s tactics too.”
“Of course you can. But there’s a life outside of the field, you know.” Natborn-ass thing to say. Maybe for him. And maybe Jinn was a bit more perceptive than he let on - he successfully interpreted the tick of Cody’s eyebrow. “Do you really think that you’ll never have the opportunity to experience life, Marshal Commander?”
“I’m experiencing life right now.” The smell of dirt and pollen, the sound of the humming board and the occasionally roaring monsters. Existing at a point in space and time. That was called being alive. “Do I look dead to you?”
Jinn hummed, leaning back in his chair. “Where do you imagine yourself five years from now?”
Cody couldn’t help but crack a smile. He sure as hell knew where Jinn would be. “In a much quieter room.”
“Specific. Personally, I don’t ask such questions.” But…he just did…? “Anakin, Ahsoka, and I have a shared proclivity for the Living Force. Taking things one day at a time, as you might think of it. Believe it or not, it’s not a terribly sustainable lifestyle. Giving everything to the day leaves you with little room for tomorrow. Acting accordingly with your feelings often saddles you with unforeseen consequences. You never stop to consider the big picture. Or the effects your actions may have on others.”
“The big picture is the most important thing,” Cody said. Strangely aggressively. Hopefully Jinn didn’t notice. “You can’t choose to save five lives now when it kills thirty men later. Feelings are reactions. They ought to be overcome.”
Lord Vader’s tactics had a tendency to skew that way. Shockingly enough, it was the add-on child that had started diverting him into less reckless tactics. Believe it or not, this was what less reckless looked like.
But Jinn just gave him a look. One of those strange Jedi looks that left Cody permanently off-balance. “Are there no room for your own feelings in your life?”
“They’re dangerous, sir.”
“And yet you say you live. A life without emotion is hardly a life worth living.”
“It’s hard to live in a life ruled by emotions,” Cody said. He paused a beat. “Sir.”
“Is your life not worth living?”
“My life is not ruled by my feelings.” Left loudly unsaid: unlike yours. Which is why you’ve started getting a bit depressed.
“Then what rules it?”
“My job, sir.”
“It must be a very easy life,” Jinn said affably. “The easiest possible life. One that starts and ends within the boundaries of a battlefield, and isn’t bothered by those pesky flies known as emotions. I see only one major difficulty in that lifestyle.”
“And what would that be?”
“Who would want to live it?”
Cody made his move. It wasn’t a particularly good one, and Jinn took advantage of the weakness with a swift capture. Which didn’t mean anything.
He tried to come up with a retort. He really couldn’t. There was no retort for that. What was he supposed to say? That he would choose this life? That anybody would want to live it? Hah.
Cody made a quick move, making up for lost ground. “It’s about the big picture, sir. I have a goal to reach and a mission to fulfill. The 212th relies on me.” Cody’s job also relied on Obi-Wan Kenobi, but Lord Vader was already calling him the army’s best babysitter. Best not to draw too much attention to that. “Living for others is a perfectly serviceable life.”
“Is that your motivation for living?” Jinn asked, bizarrely surprised. Of course he was. Man was impressively self-centered. “Being of service to others?”
What a weird thing to say. “I was created to be of service to others.” Honestly. Did they even read the clone manuals. “I was created to serve you, sir.” For some bizarre reason, Cody found himself faltering a bit. “Do you not like that?”
“Like it? No. Of course not.”
Something beat Cody’s heart a little heavier, and he straightened. “Sir, am I unsatisfactory -”
“No, no. I mean - no.” Jinn sighed, and Cody abruptly felt a little embarrassed. Cody was for the Emperor. Not fucking Qui-Gon Jinn. Even if Cody had been built to serve the Jedi for a little while - if what he had said was true in a provincial way - the big picture was service to the Emperor. The real honor. “I don’t like the fact that you exist, no.” Same here, asshole. “Marshal Commander Cody is an exemplary soldier. I am very lucky to have you at my side, compensating for my many inadequacies. Nothing unsatisfactory about you.” Cody untensed, which he subtly hated himself for. The men placed far too much weight on natborn praise and approval. Cody wasn’t like that, but ghosts passed through us all sometimes. “But I would call your philosophy ironically short-sighted. Dedicating your life to others leaves you with nothing for yourself.”
Cody stared blankly at Jinn. Jinn peacefully made a risky move. Might have been a bluff. “Yes.”
“You would give away your own life so easily?”
How often would Cody have to say this? Some genius. “My life was created to give away.”
“You’re unattached to it,” Jinn said. “I suppose only an easy life is easy to give away. A life that nobody would want to live can be quickly discarded. I see the utility in your philosophy, Marshal Commander.”
Cody realized too late that it had been his turn for a while, but this time he stopped to think before calling the bluff. Punctured straight through the defenses. He would win again. “Glad you understand, sir.”
“You’ll realize it one day,” Jinn said. “How cruel that philosophy can be. My, you have me in a corner.”
Whatever that meant. They played on.
Jinn only spoke again near the end of the game. Cody had thoroughly won. Jinn had put up a good fight, but Cody’s victory was assured despite his exhaustion. Chasing after Obi-Wan was running him ragged. He was tripping and falling into spike pits every time he turned his back. And if there wasn’t any danger, he was doing his damned baby best to uncover the galactic Sith conspiracy on complete accident. In search of…whatever the hell he was in constant search of. The kid seemed to want something very badly, but he didn’t seem sure of what it was.
“Marshal Commander, may I ask a favor?”
Dubiously, Cody said, “I’m not lying to General Skywalker for you.”
“Not that.”
“I’m not lying to General Windu for you either.”
“It’s nothing illicit.” Cody squinted. Jinn’s mouth twitched into a smile. “You seem attached to our new young padawan.”
Sirens flashed in Cody’s mind. Play it cool. Jinn had given him the explanation himself on a silver platter. “You asked me to look after him, sir. I’ve been fulfilling that order.”
“You’ve been going above and beyond. Have you not grown fond of the boy?”
The boy was difficult to like. He was also difficult to hate. “His safety is my job, sir. My personal feelings don’t matter.”
“I see. So long as you’re following my request, I can’t complain. But try not to tell him that. He’s quite attached to you, and it might hurt his feelings.”
Huh? “Attached to me?” Cody asked blankly. “I’m his clone subordinate.”
They said that the Jedi wouldn’t care about them. That they’d find them disposable, and that they would treat them as if they were disposable. That was what natborns did. But Obi-Wan was a child…Cody understood that children grew attached even to servant caretakers. That was Cody. Apparently. Best of the best supersoldier, hand-chosen by the Emperor and trusted with the most important missions that determined the fate of the galaxy. Which…was the babysitting…
He ought to stop complaining about the babysitting. It was the Emperor’s babysitting. Acting as a servant caretaker for a natborn child was an honor. Serving the Emperor was an honor. Being his servant was an honor. Being owned by the Emperor was an honor - and the Emperor’s right, what he was owed. The Emperor deserved Cody, and Cody deserved the life he had.
You didn’t have to believe it was true. You just had to live like it was. It was good enough. If you do what they say and you’re smart about it, you can think or feel whatever you want. Your thoughts will always be your own. Nobody ever had to know.
Something was accumulating in Cody’s chest like sentiment growing on the shore. Gradual at first, but rising with the tide. He’d lived with that emotion for a long time, but he’d always been adept at washing it away. He was getting worse at it. Cody wasn’t meant to be bad at things. But this was one fault he let himself have, because nobody would know.
Hate had taken root in Cody, and hate was beginning to grow. Cody knew that it wasn’t right - that it wasn’t productive or useful or motivational. It wasn’t the right sort of hate directed at the right people - it was a broader, more absolute hate. He ought to root it out. But nobody could make him. Nobody knew. And it was hate that was all his own. It was his. They had never allowed him anything - and what he did have, they had taken away. Didn’t he deserve this? This one thing? Was he allowed it, if he hid it well enough?
Yes, Cody hated. He hated all of the right people. The people whom he was allowed to hate. That would be his answer, if anybody asked.
“Why would that matter to him?” Jinn asked. As if it was an honest surprise - as if it didn’t matter at all. Sometimes Cody was afraid that Qui-Gon Jinn saw him as just an unruly coworker. Alpha-17 said that the natborns would never see them as equal, so why…? “He looks up to you. I’m afraid that you two share the same philosophies.” Under his breath, Jinn added, “Considering your similar ages, perhaps that’s no surprise…”
Three out of three of those sentences were not congruent with Cody’s reality. “Philosophies?”
“Obi-Wan Kenobi seems to live for other people. He is willing to dedicate his life to others, just as you are - and he seems similarly self-sacrificing about it. I believe it is the source of that recklessness. I don’t know what to do about it. I’m much too different.” Jinn gave Cody a canny and slanted look. “But you two seem to be kindred spirits. I was hoping that you would agree to curb those tendencies.”
It made no sense. Cody knew why he felt that way. Cody’s own feelings were quite literal - objectively true, on every level. But it wasn’t true of Obi-Wan. Nobody had ever told him how special he was - but shouldn’t he know anyway?
“I have no idea how to do that,” Cody said, almost helpless.
“I’m sure you’ll figure it out.” Jinn grinned at him. They were less than a year into the war, and his grin was still almost light. It would grow heavy soon. Heavier and heavier, until it crushed him. “Try to be adaptable.”
Jinn made a final move with a great and theatrical flourish, losing the game in triumph.