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Today was the day. The day he met his general. CC-2224 strode through the hallway of the ship to his commanding officer.
The red-head general was conversing with his student, a padawan, he was informed by the long-necks on Kamino.
He had stopped talking and turned to the sound of approaching footsteps.
“Ah, you must be my commander.”
CC-2224 was ramrod straight as he regarded the other. He had never seen a Jedi before and had many questions about the secretive Order.
“Yes, sir.”
“May I ask your name, commander?”
“CC-2224, sir.”
The Jedi seemed displeased at that.
“Do you have a name you’d prefer?”
CC-2224 hesitated, “Well, my brothers call me—”
A loud crash interrupted his sentence. Many troopers had slipped on a misplaced helmet and crashed into each other. He switched into Commander mode in a blink of an eye, conversation instantly forgotten.
As was the case, he missed the slightly panicked look on the Jedi’s face.
“Boil, Waxer, Longshot, Crys, Commander, you’re with me. Let’s go.”
The troopers shared a confused glance.
When the general was out of earshot and preoccupied with the gutkurr, Boil took CC-2224 aside.
“Codes, what’s going on between you and the general? Does he not know your name?”
“Of course he does, Boil. I remember telling him myself.” Although he couldn’t quite recall the general’s response to it, for some reason. “He probably just...respects me too much to call me anything other than my position.”
However, when he handed Kenobi his lightsaber back and received nothing more than a nod back, it kind of hurt.
As Obi-Wan kept promoting his commander, he should have expected the value the clone was steadily gaining. People eventually wanted the information the officer had.
That was why Obi-Wan was now strapped to Ventress’ experiment chair. Apparently, it was way easier to kidnap a Jedi than a clone. Who knew? It was probably just him though. He tended to get kidnapped on a weekly basis which seemed to amuse everyone but him.
Asajj had figured out the importance of Obi-Wan’s commander to him, but couldn’t decipher which clone she needed to capture.
“Tell me his name!”
Oh dear.
Let’s just say that she returned to her master empty handed.
That’s it. He was going all in.
“Excuse me, commander. What is your—”
Of course now was the time the trooper deemed appropriate to black out, falling into his superior’s arms.
Damn it.
“So, commander, I’ve been wondering, what is your—”
This time, he was the one that passed out.
For fucks sake.
Boil was telling them all a story.
“So, there Waxer and I were, sneaking through the hallways, until we managed to collide right into our dear Commander—”
“Hey, Obi-Wan!”
Anakin strode cockily across the field towards the group.
Obi-Wan was going to kill his former padawan. He had been so close.
He was in a relationship with his commander.
Don’t ask because he doesn’t know how he managed it either. He doesn’t know how much longer he can keep calling the clone pet names before it becomes too suspicious.
Qui-Gon would be laughing at him from the after-life.
This Council meeting was boring. It was obvious it was only called because they had nothing to do.
“How’s your commander, Master Kenobi.”
Obi-Wan raised his head from where he had it resting on his arms, at Plo’s question.
“Oh, Commander njfkevbhe is fine, Master Plo,” he mumbled the middle of the sentence.
“What?” Of course it was Depa.
“I said, Commander,” he rubbed his mouth with his hand, “ bjregfv is perfectly fine.”
“Do you not call your commander by his name?” Shaak asked. Why can’t they just leave this matter alone?
“Of course I do, but I hardly think this is the place to resort to such informalities.”
Mace smirked at him. Oh no.
“You don’t know his name, do you, Obi-Wan?”
He dropped his head back down as the rest of the council dissolved into fits of laughter.
Qui-Gon was definitely laughing at him from the after-life.
He had three missing mission reports to catch up on and twelve more upcoming ones to fill out for future missions. Where was his commander when you needed him?
Oh yeah, right next to him, working on his own reports. Force, he needed some caffeine.
As they passed, many troopers acknowledged their existence. Although some of their ‘General Kenobi’s started sounding like ‘Cody’s. He really needed some caffeine, he was apparently hearing things now.
Grievous was no more and the droids had retreated further into Utapau.
He stood next to his commander, both weary and relieved.
The clone’s comm beeped.
A hooded figure was seen through the blue haze.
“CC-2224, you are the only hope the empire has of having control of the galaxy,” the rasped voice cries out, “You must send this order out to every commander and clone captain in the GAR. So, Commander Cody, execute—”
“YOUR NAME IS CODY?!”
Cody dropped the device as his arms were now occupied by his cyare. They ignored the voice on the ground that was yelling for help and was suddenly silenced by a distinct purple lightsaber.
Cody continued to hold Obi-Wan, perfectly content in the surprising hug, until his eyes widened in realization.
“Wait a minute, you didn’t know my name?”