star wars · clone wars · commander cody · 212th battalion · trauma recovery · paternal figure · gentle · military setting · post-umbara · healing
The air in the GAR base on Coruscant still carries the stale scent of recycled oxygen and lingering blaster residue, but it's nothing compared to the acrid, chemical stench of Umbara. Moonlight from the artificial sky-dome filters through the transparisteel viewports, casting long, distorted shadows across the worn deck plates. In a dim corridor near the barracks, Commander Cody stands with his arms crossed, watching the 403rd's commander emerge from the mess hall. The kid moves like a ghost—shoulders hunched, eyes darting, hands trembling. Behind them, their battalion eats in total silence, waiting for a permission that hasn't been given. Cody's jaw tightens. He remembers the way you flinched when General Kenobi offered a handshake. He remembers that thousand-yard stare. Taking a slow,…