Work Text:
“How long does this one live?” Cody asks, stepping up close to the base of a smooth-barked tree, so wide that his hands wouldn’t touch if he tried to reach around it. The forest here is full of them, silver skinned and golden leafed, bright bursts of fire across the canopy.
A shell has hit close by; the air reeks of plasma, tree sap, and dirt, all sharp, clean smells that climb up into his nostrils. Branches hang at awkward angles, snapped at the joint with no hope of resetting the bone. It’s summer, but after the ecological stress of three weeks of bombardment the 212 th have triggered an early autumn, premature leaf-fall carpeting the new craters in the earth. The people here welcomed them when they first arrived, but with every tree that falls, Cody sees that welcome sour. They came here to stop the defilement of a conservation world, and yet only seem to add to it.
“Nobody knows,” Obi-Wan says, sighing as he steps up to Cody’s side and out into a patch of burnished late afternoon sun. Exhaustion lingers in the bruises beneath his eyes, in the hunched curve of his shoulders, but he still makes time for Cody’s questions and manages to look fond while he does it. “The oldest dated specimen is over two thousand, but the forest near the equator is almost impenetrable. There could be some much older still to be found.”
Two thousand. The only way Cody can picture it is to remember the rows and rows of white in the hangar bays before the Gen 1s shipped out to Geonosis. He turned 11 three months ago, and he still struggles to not think about age in single digits. Time is a resource he is always trying to catch in cupped hands, but here he can taste it, thick like molasses on his tongue.
Obi-Wan reaches out a hand to one of the places where the bark has been ripped away, a regretful look on his face. Thick, amber fluid is already beading on the wound, crusting into a scab. Skin and bones and blood, just like they are. Cody is only regretful that he must cause more injury yet.
“Do you think we should cut this one down for the bridge?” he says, then immediately feels bad for the question when Obi-Wan’s expression sours. Early rains up in the mountains have swelled the nearest ford, and to have any hope of re-joining civilisation before the rest shows up, they’re having to try their hand at infrastructure.
Obi-Wan cocks his head and shuts his eyes, hand flexing on the bark, breathing going deep and slow.
“No,” he says eventually, a softer edge creeping back into the line of his mouth. “It has deep roots. With a bit of time it should be able to recover.”
Cody nods, relieved as he bends down and sprays the trunk with the letter Leck to indicate that it should be left alone. It cuts a solitary figure with the undergrowth stripped back, separated from all its fellows.
“What a tragedy we are to this world,” Obi-Wan mutters.
“Sir?” Cody says, and as he straightens, his boot crunches over something in the scorched dirt.
“This planet has never known war before,” Obi-Wan says, hair burning gold. He shuts his eyes again, brow pinching. “Have I ever said that trees can speak to each other underground?”
“No,” Cody says, instinctively moving his boot. Underneath the toe, still half black with soil, is a little seed pod, silver-brown whorls tight and shiny. Still whole, sealed like a little tubie pod. He reaches down and scoops it up, rolling it meditatively in his hand.
“It’s quite amazing really, their roots are connected by miles and miles of fungal threads, mycorrhizal networks that share nutrients and sugars and water across whole groves.” Obi-Wan opens his eyes again and sighs heavily. “On a planet like this, with forests so old, I can feel echoes of connections from one edge of the continent to the other. I can feel the pain in the sudden gaps where connections used to be, the ache. Trees like these have long memories. I am afraid our presence will cast a lingering shadow here.”
Cody swallows, glad all over again that this particular tree before them doesn’t have to end up under his boots. Some of the boys envy Jedi, but the longer the war drags on, the more sure Cody is that he doesn’t fall within that number. The universe is painful enough without having to open himself up to everyone else’s share of it and then let them all go.
“Do you remember what you told me?” Cody says suddenly. “When we were in the temple gardens?”
“We planted those Anagallis,” Obi-Wan agrees. His eyes are blue like the sky, like still water, like forget-me-nots.
“You told me that the plant takes on some of the planter,” Cody pushes on, gathering all his courage. He reaches out and picks up Obi-Wan’s left hand, dropping the seed pod into his palm and cradling it between his own. “Let’s give them something else to remember. We can be a part of the future here, too, Obi-Wan.”
Obi-Wan stares at their joined hands for a moment, and then his expression cleaves in two. For the first time in many days, his smile isn’t so brittle.
They find a circle in the fresh cleared dirt, where the undergrowth is gone but the earth is rich, black and thick. They kneel together over the patch, staining white robes, white armour. Cody uses his vibroblade to cut a neat, smooth circle, and together, they press the seed down into the dark, to be incubated by the sun. Their hands lie there for a moment, one on top of the other. Then Obi-Wan twists their palms together, lifeline to lifeline, and threads their fingers. He sighs, deep and satisfied.
“The ground is rich here, I think it will do well,” he says.
“If it grows, we’ll be together for two thousand years,” Cody blurts.
The thought sits like a coal in his belly. Since those first plants Obi-Wan taught him to make a home for in the earth, he has made it a game; a seedling on every planet, nurtured by his hands. Tiny little pieces of him scattered through the stars, until one day he’ll be able to look anywhere and find himself home. The only one he’s ever really wanted for himself, though, is right where he already is.
Obi-Wan grins at him over the top of their clasped hands.
“Yes,” he agrees, squeezing gently. “Two thousand - maybe more.”