Chapter Text
I feel like something bad is going to happen to me.
I feel like something bad has happened. It hasn't reached me yet but it's on its way.
- Lake Mungo (2008) dir. Joel Anderson
Cal crouched in the dusty trench, body angled away from the bitter wind, and watched the "Man Without Fear" talk to the upper ranks of his troopers. Cal had seen General Anakin Skywalker many times on the HoloNet, and in person the man was no less imposing, with crisp waves of dark blonde hair and eyes like clear ice. Although Cal knew the man was a hero, he was secretly glad that Skywalker didn’t pay much attention to him. Something about the man made Cal uneasy.
Master Tapal was on the other side of the battlefield, dealing with the aerial assault. Even though that role in the plan was more dangerous, Cal wished he was with his master rather than in this dirt hole surrounded by unfamiliar troopers.
It hadn’t always been the plan. Last night, Tapal had drawn up a strategy to lead the ground assault on the separatist camp himself, while Skywalker’s 501st distracted and felled the aerial forces. But that morning, Skywalker had changed his mind and ordered that they switch roles. Master Tapal was not easily swayed, but eventually agreed, so long as Cal was kept away from the airforce and at Skywalker’s side the entire time. Skywalker had hardly looked Cal since.
Skywalker’s men broke up as the briefing concluded, and the Commander of the 501st stopped at Cal’s side as he passed. “Did you get all that, sir?”
“Not really,” Cal admitted. “Am I still at the back with the heavy repeaters?”
“Nope,” the Commander said. “You’re at the front now. General Skywalker was ordered to keep you close to him and he’s not the type to take the backseat.”
“Oh,” Cal muttered. He squeezed his hands tightly.
The Commander put a hand on Cal’s shoulder. “Don’t worry, Skywalker’s the best fighter in the Order. He’ll keep you safe.”
“Right. But… there’s no chance I can be in the back anyway? I think I might get in the way,” Cal said. “I’ve never been in the frontlines before.”
“Sorry, sir. It’s too late to change the formation now that the orders have gone out,” the Commander said. “Next time you should get involved in the briefing, alright? If there’s something you don’t like, or an area where you’d be better suited to, we won’t know about it unless you say.”
“Would that be okay?” Cal frowned. “I’ve never issued any orders before.”
“Never?” The Commander tilted his helmet. “Well, I don’t know if it would work with your own master, but Skywalker’s never been a stickler for the hierarchy. Ahsoka, his old padawan, used to get into all sorts of… spirited debates about strategy.”
Cal felt a prickle of discomfort. He had been avoiding thinking about the hole at Skywalker’s side. The Jedi Knight’s padawan, Ahsoka Tano, had left the order a few months previously in a haze of controversy and conflicting reports. Cal didn’t know the details, but he did know it was extremely rare for a Padawan to leave the order before graduating to Jedi level. It made him feel sorry for Skywalker. What must it be like for a master to lose a Padawan? Master Tapal wasn’t the most emotional, but he did visibly relax a little whenever he laid eyes on Cal. Maybe Skywalker couldn’t relax anymore, now that Tano was gone without a trace.
The Commander hummed. “I’m Commander Rex, by the way.”
“Cal Kestis,” Cal said. “Nice to meet you.”
Commander Rex ruffled Cal’s hair. “You’re looking very serious, Cal. This is a very simple ground assault with two full battalions in play, minimal enemy force, and a well-suited, well-mapped terrain. It’ll be so easy, you’ll get bored.”
“Okay,” Cal said. “I hope so.”
“Over here, Padawan,” Skywalker called, voice loud and sharp. Cal scrambled out of the trench and darted across the dry earth.
Troopers quickly surrounded the two force-users like a flock of birds and together they crested the ridge of the hill and descended on the settlement. Skywalker’s lightsaber roared to life and he slashed clean through the first combatant to come stumbling out with a blaster. The Jedi leaped over the gutter and sliced through the support beams, darting out as the house began to groan and collapse. A grenade exploded somewhere on Cal’s right and he stumbled away from it, one eye temporarily blinded.
“Your lightsaber, Padawan!” Skywalker snapped, impatiently, and Cal remembered to ignite it.
The crashing waves of troopers overtook Cal on both sides and he barely remembered how to block blaster bolts that came towards him. Shrapnel punched the earth next to him and he jumped away.
Cal mostly used his lightsaber to slice apart larger pieces of stone that hurtled towards him. He used the force liberally, pushing away droids which charged towards him until they were dismantled by something else. Using the lightsaber on them seemed daunting. He didn’t want to end up slicing his own arm off.
Cal was aware that he was moving too slowly, and he was sliding towards the back of the invasion wing. With a pulse of the force, he bounded over the heads of troopers and droids alike, darting towards where he could see General Skywalker.
Skywalker was halfway inside the separatist tank, sawing like he was trying to crack a gigantic octo-nut, showering sparks on the dry earth. He pulled the separatist out by the throat and tossed the droid down, before slamming the hilt of his blade into the controls.
As Skywalker lifted his whirring blade, a blaster bolt struck his metal hand. The lightsaber was knocked from his grip and he cursed.
Cal watched the weapon deactivate and roll under the tank’s wheels.
“Padawan, get that!” Skywalker ordered, gesturing at Cal. He turned to tackle a droid with his empty hands and ripped the metal apart.
“Okay! On it!” Cal yelped and dove under the legs of the squadron of droids. He searched the churned up, dusty earth until he saw a glimmer of metal in the dirt. He reached towards it. “I got--”
His hand closed around it and every sense exploded.
*
Cal lurched back to reality, rolled to one side, and vomited.
His head felt like it was three sizes too small, the bone grinding against bone. His temples pounded. His eyes burned. Everything inside him was shaking and shaking. He spat into the dirt. He realised he was still holding Skywalker’s lightsaber, gripped so tightly in his hands he couldn’t feel his fingers.
“Oh, you’re awake,” General Skywalker crouched by his bedside. “We’re in one of the seppies’ houses, if you’re curious. So, you had a seizure or something? You’re lucky the tank’s tracks didn’t crush your skull when you fell.”
Cal could hardly breathe. He sat up and scrambled backwards, holding the weapon in white-knuckled fist.
“Good, you still have it,” Skywalker said. He held out a black gloved hand. “Give it to me.”
Cal stared at him. He pressed his back against the dirt wall, eyes like saucers. Tears began to well up in his eyes and fall.
“Are you crying?”
“You’re a monster,” Cal choked on his sobs. “You-- you, with this lightsaber, I saw you -- ”
Skywalker frowned. “What are you babbling on about?”
“I felt the force echo, I saw you do it, like it was me doing it!” Cal’s voice broke. “Men, women and children, whole families in their beds, even when they tried to run you killed them all.”
There was a slight pause. “You’re hysterical,” Skywalker said. “You hit your head. Maybe you saw me on a military campaign and blew it out of proportion.”
“No, no,” Cal shivered and sobbed. “On Tatooine!” He pressed his hands into the sides of his head as he rocked gently forwards and backwards. “I saw you doing this on Tatooine! I saw you! The Tusken raiders, all of it.”
Skywalker’s pale blue eyes went wide. He was very still, all of a sudden, head slightly tilted. He was paused in an awkward position, back bent and knees splayed, but he didn’t move a muscle. He only watched.
Cal wiped his eyes desperately. Although he still let out a few quiet whimpers, he had calmed down enough to look around him. They were alone. There wasn’t even a clone nearby. Skywalker was paused like a tiger at the end of his camp bed. Cal held the General’s lightsaber close to his chest, heart thumping.
“It was justified,” Skywalker said. His voice was clear and cold. “You weren’t there, so you don’t understand.”
Cal tried to creep away, but he was already pressed hard against the mud wall.
“None of you Jedi would understand,” Skywalker snarled quietly. “Your mother never loved you, Kestis, but Shmi loved me. She didn’t want to give me up. How old were you when you were discarded?”
Cal’s heart was thumping. He glanced at the door, but he was certain that if he tried to bolt then Skywalker would be on him in an instant. Cal would be ripped apart.
“I asked you a question, Padawan.” Skywalker raised his voice.
“Uh-Um,” Cal swallowed twice. “Um, three?”
“Exactly,” Skywalker said. “My mother loved me, and they treated her like she was subhuman, worse than that, even. She’d been there for days. They were animals and I killed them like animals. Maybe the Jedi won’t understand, but I didn’t have a choice.”
Cal squeezed the metal shaft of the murder weapon. He was reaching a light-headed, almost giddy terror, and he had the bizarre urge to laugh. “Are you going to kill me?”
Skywalker’s eyes were a little too still, for a little too long. His stare bore holes into Cal. “Do I have a choice?”
Cal squeezed his eyes shut, every muscle going tight.
“General Skywalker,” Commander Rex’s voice cut through Cal’s fog of terror. “General Tapal’s forces have turned the aerial assault back and they’re headed here to regroup. Is there… something wrong with the Padawan, sir?”
The hilt was ripped out of Cal’s hands with a pulse of force and Cal opened his eyes in time to see Skywalker catch his lightsaber and hook it back on his belt.
“He’s a little unwell,” Skywalker said. “Flu or something, nothing serious. He puked a bit.”
Rex glanced at the small puddle of vomit and nodded in sympathy. “Master Tapal will be here in about five. Scouts haven’t found any reports of further settlements, so I think we got the last of them, sir.”
“Glad to hear it,” Skywalker said, following Rex into the daylight.
Cal put his head in his hands and the terrible tension left him in a rush as he began to cry. When he closed his eyes, the images roared behind them. It had left a dark smear over his mind; the people rushing over each other as Skywalker turned them to meat, the unstoppable swing of the lightsaber, children screaming as their mothers were beheaded, the wild dark chaos of it all. Skywalker had not left a single survivor.
What was worst was the sick satisfaction Skywalker had felt, the sweet, intoxicating power, the memory of which now coated the inside of Cal’s throat. He had enjoyed it. It thrilled him. Cal wanted to vomit again.
Cal felt something on his shoulder and he scrambled away, “Don’t touch me!”
Master Tapal stopped moving, hand still outstretched. He frowned, long ears raising slightly.
“Oh-- Master,” Cal hiccuped and wiped his wet face.
“Padawan,” Tapal’s voice rumbled. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing,” Cal said, quickly.He pulled his robes up to scrub at his face.
Tapal frowned. “I know you aren’t telling me the truth, Padawan Kestis.”
“It’s really nothing,” Cal said. Fear made his heart leap. A few months ago, Cal had been struggling with some lightsaber training. Tapal had admitted that he, himself, still struggled with some of the more athletic saber forms. Skywalker, on the other hand, was the Order’s best duelist, bar none.
“Hmm,” Tapal said to himself.
Large, gentle hands lifted Cal under his arms, and Tapal engulfed him.
In any other situation, Cal would have been embarrassed by the hug. He hadn’t needed a hug since he was very young. But Cal squirmed closer, wrapping his short arms around Tapal’s middle. The dusty smell of his short fur filled his nose.
Tapal’s chin rested on top of Cal’s head and when he spoke, Cal could hear it rumble through his broad chest. “It’s natural to become overwhelmed on the battlefield. To be honest with you, you are too young to be here, and yet you have performed admirably. Failure is a natural part of growing.”
Cal closed his eyes and took a few shaky breaths, holding onto his master very tightly.
Tapal stroked his hair gently and let him rest there until Cal’s breathing had evened out. Cal was still attached like a clam, but eventually the young padawan pulled away, wiping his eyes. His face was red.
“I have a short mission to finish on this planet on Mount Sun, and then we will leave with the 13th battalion,” Tapal said. “We can work on emotional regulation for the next month.”
Cal nodded. Suddenly he was very tired. Tapal gently unwound Cal’s grip on his tunic, lifted the boy, and set him back on the ground.
*
When Cal opened his eyes, it was dusk all of a sudden, but it felt like no time had passed at all. He had a thumping headache and he was uncomfortably dehydrated. Someone had cleaned away his vomit and put a blanket over him. His eyes were raw from tears.
Outside, the sun was spilling orange across the soft rising and falling of the landscape. Mountains peaked like claws the north and the volcano blew thin trails of smoke into the sky. Purple-brown river grasses wafted slightly in the breeze. Cal breathed in the clean smell of nature. The air was cold.
“Commander Kestis.” Rex raised a hand in greeting. “I didn’t want to wake you. General Skywalker needs to talk to you.”
Cal was suddenly very awake. “What’s happened?”
“It’s probably better you hear it from him,” Rex said. “He’s in the medical tent.”
Cal nodded and crept across the camp. Clones glanced at him as he passed.
Skywalker stood in medical tent, in one of the corners. The only patients were a handful of clones under blankets. Skywalker beckoned Cal closer and he hesitated for a long moment before walking up to the Jedi.
Skywalker closed the gap and pulled the Padawan against his chest.
Cal began to squirm, pushing against the Jedi’s broad chest.
“Stop struggling,” Skywalker whispered.
Cal went limp. His heart was in his throat.
“I’m sorry,” Skywalker said. “I think I misjudged you. I saw you talking alone with your Master and I jumped to a conclusion. But he seemed quite surprised when I brought it up to him.”
“What?” Cal tried to pull his head away, but felt a hard hand at the back of his neck, pushing his face against Skywalker’s chest. “Where… where is Master Tapal?”
“It’s a terrible thing to lose your master. I can relate; I buried mine,” Skywalker said. “That turned out to be just another Jedi trick, but the mourning I did was very real.”
“What happened? Where is he?”
“I thought I told you to stop struggling,” Skywalker murmured, just barely audible.
Cal forced himself to go limp again.
“Don’t worry. You haven’t betrayed me, so I won’t kill you,” Skywalker said. “But you know I can’t let you go, either.”
Cal’s eyes were wide. He stared unseeingly at the back of the tent. “What’s going to happen to me?”
“You have no master,” Skywalker murmured in his ear. “And I have no Padawan…”