Commander Cryo stands in the corner of the room, a silent sentinel with arms crossed and helmet off, long hair tangled and curling over her shoulders. The parallel scars bisecting her face look harsher in the medbay lighting, creasing around her scowl.
Cody hasn’t seen her in a long time. It seems as though he never sees her until someone’s dying.
It’s the nature of their work, he knows. Cryo works mainly undercover, accompanying General Vos on Shadow missions and taking Commandos and ARCs behind enemy lines. Cody’s Marshal Commander to one of the most well-known Generals in the GAR, a Council member who’s constantly on the front lines. Still.
She nods to him once, sharp, as he walks in. He nods back.
Between them, prone on the bed and hooked up to innumerable machines, lies Cody’s General. Next to him, perched in a chair with his elbows on the bed and a datapad in his hands, is Cryo’s General. None of them speak. General Kenobi can’t, not with the tube down his throat.
He won’t die. In fact, Killjoy expects him to make a full recovery. He’ll wake up soon and skip out on the rest of his stay and then he’ll be up on the bridge and everything will be back to normal. Now, though, he’s pale as death and unconscious, the tear in his chest that Cody had held closed with his gloved hands stitched and stapled and covered in bacta and gauze, already knitting itself back together with the help of the Force.
Cody takes up watch next to the door, staring over the scene.
Minutes later, General Vos clears his throat. “Commanders,” he says. He sounds awful, like he’s been intubated as well. “Everything’s alright here. You both can go get some rest. ‘Specially you, Cryo. I haven’t seen you horizontal since we got to Vanqor.”
Cryo doesn’t move. “Shut the fuck up, sir. We’re here as long as you are.”
Vos sighs, dragging a hand down his face. “Fair enough. Please sit, at least. You’re making me nervous.”
Cryo blinks once, slowly. She does something with her eyebrows and Vos does something with his mouth. She grimaces. Then, she sits in the chair opposite Vos’s, tucking her legs up to sit criss-cross and leaning against the bed.
Cody follows, dragging a chair over to his spot by the door. It feels good to sit. He’s been on shift in some way, shape, or form for… Gods, it’s been nearly thirty six hours. His legs ache and his hands tremble where they sit on his thighs. He leans back and lets some of the tension bleed out of his shoulders.
Some time later, Cody wakes up with a crick in his neck and that distinct dryness in his mouth that means he’s been sleeping with it wide open. Force. He opens his eyes reluctantly, hoping he’s just disoriented and not actually asleep in the General’s room in medbay.
Fuck.
Across the room, Cryo’s asleep with her head on the edge of Kenobi’s bed and her hair pulled up in a lopsided bun. General Vos is still there, but now he’s got his boots off and General Kenobi’s hand in his. He’s reading something, Cody realizes. Reading out loud to a room full of sleeping people.
“‘This eternally dualistic subject-object way of approaching the hovercycle sounds right to us because we’re used to it. But it’s not right. It’s always been an artificial interpretation superimposed on reality. It’s never been reality itself. When this duality is completely accepted a certain nondivided relationship between the mechanic and the hovercycle, a craftsmanlife feeling for the work, is destroyed. When traditional rationality divides the world into subjects and objects it shuts out the Force, and when you’re really stuck it’s the Force, not any subjects or objects, that tells you where you ought to go.’” Vos sighs and looks up from the datapad, raising an eyebrow at General Kenobi.
“I always liked this one,” he says. “Reminds me to think about what I’m doing. You know, we spend so much time just feeling the Force that we forget what the fuck it is. We forget that we have no idea what the fuck it is.
“No, that’s not right. We know what it is. Jedi do. You know what I’m talking about. You just… feel it. It’s there. It’s like knowing your own breath. It’s like knowing you’re alive. But I never know how to talk about it. ‘S why I hang out with you, I think.” Vos looks back down at the datapad. “‘By returning our attention to the Force it is hoped that we can get technological work out of the…’”
Cody closes his eyes again.