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“Listen kid, you know I love you but I also love not getting sick more.”
Cal laughed, though the sound was quick to taper off into harsh, painful coughing that he smothered into his elbow as he bent over. Greez watched sympathetically from the doorway of Cere’s room, where Cal had been moved since it actually had a door, unlike his own in the engine room.
“It’s fine,” the young Jedi rasped. “I’ll be alright. I survived alone on Bracca for five years, I think I can survive two weeks here.”
“Yeah, well, on Bracca you didn’t have a one hundred and two degree fever cooking your brain inside your skull while your lungs shredded themselves in your chest.”
Cal just shrugged. He decided not to tell Greez about that time on Bracca he spent three days out in a rainstorm with a one hundred and five degree fever, unable to breathe through his nose and climbing up something like ten stories.
The Latero might actually declare war on Bracca if he did that. “I’ll be okay,” Cal promised again.
Greez just sighed. “Alright, you’ve got your datapad?” he asked. “Lightsaber, droid–” BD-1 beeped from where he had previously been using Cere’s bed as a trampoline. Apparently it was way more fun and bouncy than Cal’s boring rock bed and he never wanted to leave here ever again and could Cal get sick like this more often? “Need anything else?”
“No.” Cal grimaced at the rough sound of his voice. His head hurt and he was barely resisting the urge to rub his eyes like a child. After Greez left, maybe he’d kick BD-1 off of the bed and go take a nap for a few hours. That sounded kinda nice. “Thanks Greez.”
“Yeah, well…” he shrugged, then gestured to the datapad on the table. “That should be rigged up so you can let us know if we need anything.”
“Thanks.” Cal coughed weakly again. “You can close the door now, I don’t want you getting sick.” Then, to try and throw some normality into the conversation, he teased, “Wouldn’t want you to pick up any Dathomirian cooties, right?”
Greez rolled his eyes hard and if Cal’s lungs weren’t staging a wheezy revolution, he might’ve laughed. He stead he just smiled as the Lateron replied,
“Take a nap, kid.”
With a sarcastic salute, Cal headed for the bed and gently pushed BD-1 out of his way before dropping down onto the mattress which was actually more comfortable than his own.
He was out before Greez even closed the door.
…………………
Cal wakes up confused. Not unusual, he used to wake up confused for the first few months after The Purge. But he’s fairly certain he doesn’t have a reason to be confused now. With a groan, he twisted on sweaty sheets and pried his eyes open, shivering in the chill of the room.
He felt uncomfortable —wet with sweat, and simultaneously cold and hot. His head throbbed and his eyes burned and he kinda wanted to cry a little. BD-1 beeped worriedly on the side table, but Cal shook his head and covered his eyes.
“ ‘m fine,” he mumbled, even though lying on his back made breathing harder. “Where’re Cere and Greez?”
BD-1 replied that he didn’t know, because he and Cal were quarantined because Cal picked up a bad organic virus on Dathomir and BD-1 hadn’t left the room either.
“Organic bug,” Cal repeated, his brain feeling like it was moving through much to try and translate binary to basic in his head. “You’re not sick?”
BD-1 replied that no, but Cal is and therefore, BD-1 is also sick.
Cal wasn’t sure that made a lot of sense but he decided not to question it. Sitting up—slowly, as his head spun so hard and so fast he felt sick—he ran his hands through his hair and groaned.
“How long’s it been?”
Two hours , BD-1 happily reported. Cal groaned again and ran his hands through his hair, grimacing at the sweat-wet locks. He stared up at the ceiling of the room for a few more minutes before hauling himself up and making for the doorway. BD-1 scurried after him, demanding that Cal go back to bed because he was sick and infected with the Dathomir cooties .
“Cooties aren’t real you know,” Cal reminded him. “And I have to pee. There’s no ‘fresher in here.”
There was an attached ‘fresher in the captain’s room, but Greez had simply flat out refused to allow Cal in there, even though Cal swore up and down that he’d wash the sheets at least three times once he was better.
No dice, unfortunately.
Approaching the door, Cal listened intently, not wanting to run into Greez or Cere on his way to the ‘fresher and basically ruin the entire point of his quarenting in the first place. He was trying to avoid Merrin as well, but considering she was from Dathomir, Cal wouldn’t be surprised if she turned out to be immune to any of its illnesses.
He craved human interaction and it had only been two hours, both of which he’d been asleep for. He had no idea how he was supposed to handle two weeks .
Not hearing anyone outside, he carefully slides the door open and looks both ways before scurrying across the hall to the ‘fresher, closing the door and quickly getting his business over with. He feels dizzy and lightheaded, his fever still going strong in combination with almost definite dehydration.
He debates for a minute or two before tipping his head into the sink and drinking out of the tap. If Greez saw him doing that or found out, he’d definitely have a fit about them having a perfectly good kitchen with clean water and Cal will laugh and then tell him about the week on Bracca when the water ran out in his apartment so he drank rain water for a while.
Greez’s head would explode if he knew about that.
Feeling a little better–not a lot, but a little–Cal shuffled back against the hall and flopped down onto the bed with a groan. His head was pounding from that pathetic excuse for exercise and all he wanted was to pass back out for another two hours.
Unfortunately, his body and fever decided he didn’t deserve such a thing and he ended up tossing and turning until the sheets were so twisted around his legs he could barely move. Grumbling and rubbing fever-blur out of his eyes, Cal’s trembling fingers struggled to free his limbs.
BD-1 chirped from the table across the room. Cal’s datapad had lit up with a message, likely from Greez or Cere. Sighing, Cal released himself from his bedding prison and stumbled back out of bed and over to the device, squinting in the bright light until he was able to make out the words.
Even though Cal hadn’t had any expectations, he was still weirdly disappointed when it was just Cere asking if he had any preferences for dinner. He shot a quick ‘no’ response and set the datapad down before crawling back into bed with a sigh.
He closed his eyes at the sound of light footsteps, grimacing slightly when the bed dipped as BD-1 hopped up next to him.
“Two weeks,” Cal mumbled. “I can totally do two weeks.”
Yeah. You did five years, after all.
“Yeah. Five years.”
Except, as Cal discovered very quickly, there’s a huge difference between two weeks completely isolated with only a droid for company versus five years only isolated when you don’t feel like socializing.
Cal thinks he’s losing his mind by the third day. Medication keeps his fever low enough to not fry his brain but still high enough that he feels gross and sticky otherwise. Greez and Cere don’t reach out through the datapad much, beyond asking if he has preferences for food or letting him know that his next dose of meds is outside the door.
BD-1 does his best to keep Cal entertained, but even he has to leave and charge sometimes. And it’s so silly because it’s only for a few hours and BD-1 typically tries to do it when Cal is sleeping but there are times the fever keeps Cal up and then he’s very aware of BD-1’s absence.
The next time Cere sends a message asking what he wants, five days into his quarantine, Cal responds– I’m literally going to lose my mind in here.
He can hear Cere laughing through the walls before she responds, Another week and a half. Cal is painfully aware of that fact and tells her as such. She just shoots back a copy of her original message, asking what he wants to eat.
He sends back a short, irritated, unhappy reply then tosses the datapad on the table and shuffles back to bed. That’s all he’s been doing, all he can do. Back and forth, from the desk to the bed, then back again. The room isn’t big enough, there’s no one else here except BD-1, and Cal is pretty sure that he’s definitely not going to come out of this quarantine sane .
Maybe this is the real reason Jedi fall to the dark side. Not because of temptation or love or any of the reasons Master Tapal drilled into his head when he was young, but because of all those isolating meditation retreats he heard a lot of masters and knights talk about.
Cause Cal definitely feels like this would be enough to turn him to the dark side.
He makes it another forty-eight hours before he snaps. “I seriously can’t do this any more, BD.” He hates the tears burning his eyes, because it’s so stupid . He spent five years alone and isolated from everything he’d known on Bracca, only having Prauf as a friend, now he can’t even handle two weeks ? “I can’t take it.”
BD-1 let out a sad chirp and bounced up on Cal’s knee, offering sympathy even when they both knew there was nothing else he could do. Cal just shook his head and groaned, covering his face with his hands and taking several deep breaths.
He was startled from his growing panic and despair by his door sliding open and he lurched to his feet, shock fading quickly to confusion.
“Merrin.” The Nightsister blinked as she entered the room. “You shouldn’t be in here. I don’t want to get you sick.”
She just raised an eyebrow. “You are sick with Dathomirian illness Daement, yes?”
“Uh…yeah?”
“From Dathomir?”
“Yes.”
“I am Dathomirian, am I not?”
“Yeah?” Cal glanced at BD-1, who gave the closest thing to a shrug a droid with no arms or shoulders could give. “So?”
“So,” Merrin responded. “I am immune.”
“You…” Cal’s eyes widend. “Are you?”
“ Daement attacks only the weakest of my brothers and sisters,” Merrin replied, and Cal narrowed his eyes, unsure if she was directly insulting him or not. “I never became afflicted and thus, I am immune.”
“Oh. So–”
She settles herself on his bed. “I am here to keep you company.” BD-1 chirps cheerfully. Merrin just says, “I still do not understand you.”
“Ah, he’s happy I have more entertainment,” Cal replied. “You don’t have to, though.”
“The captain has banned me from touching his things. He is afraid I will curse them.” Merrin rolled her eyes and muttered under her breath, “Maybe I should.”
Cal chuckled, twisting to cough quietly into his shoulder before taking a seat next to her.
“Well, if you’re willing to stay, I’d appreciate it.”
“You are my friend,” Merrin tells him. “I would hope that if I was locked away, you would come stay with me too.”
Cal smiled. “Deal.”