Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“No.”

Cal stands at the bottom of the ramp and stares up at Greez, haloed in the ship’s internal lighting. “Huh?”

Greez points, specifically at the poncho Cal as clutched in his hand. “No more. Not a single one. By the gods, Cal, I can smell the damn thing from here.”

Cal holds it up to demonstrate the very funky pattern it has. Best of all, it’s a nice, thick wool. Once it’s clean and dry, it’ll be a favourite for sure. “I need it, Greez. It’s mine.”

“I understand and accept that five years on Bracca has ruined your sense of smell, but me and Cere? Ours is fine. And as such, we can smell that little poncho selection of yours no matter what we do. So, the following are your options – get rid of them all and we’ll find you a nice new one in a store that doesn’t sell actual biohazards.”

“Not happening.”

BD backs him up with a rude squeal.

Hands held up in a pacifying gesture, Greez waits for silence. “Or you stay out there and do some laundry.”

The sky overhead is thick with the promise of a snowstorm. Cal’s hands are cold and stiff from his journey across Zeffo. He’s tired and hungry, thoughts of dinner getting him through the lengthy journey back to the ship. He doesn’t particularly want to stay outside, but he also refuses to give up a single one of his ponchos. They’re his. All of them. He found them, and sure, maybe some are coated in mildew, and others have a smell he can’t quite get rid of, but none of them are actual biohazards…

…are they?

“Are they?” he asks BD.

BD’s scans suggest a couple might host bacteria unsafe for most organics, and while he has no capacity to smell, scans would indicate unpleasant odours would be a side effect of said bacteria. The organic members of the crew are safe unless they attempt to consume the ponchos.

“Fine,” Cal says. “I guess it’s laundry day.”

Greez’s ominous laugh echoes down from the ship. “I knew you’d say that.” He returns with a large container (honestly, it’s large enough to stuff Greez himself into). “Fill this with water. I’ve got various detergents to clean these things up.”

“I do wash them!” Cal insists.

“With appropriate laundry detergents, or with soap when you shower? Or does going for a swim in a poncho count as washing them?”

Opting for tactical silence, Cal places the new poncho into the container and plods onto the ship with it, heading for the refresher. He fills the container in the shower as it won’t fit under the sink, then lugs it back outside. He places it down and returns to the engine room to fetch all his ponchos. He puts them all inside and looks to Greez. “Now what?”

“Now, watch a master at work.” Greez adds a blend of detergents, and something called fabric conditioner to the water. It all sounds like a waste of credits to Cal. Greez also adds an entire bottle of disinfectant and gives the whole barrel a mix with a stick. “We’re gonna let this stew for a while before you heft it all back inside and stick them in the machine to spin. After that, we’ll bring them back out here to air dry. Might take a while, given how cold it is, but it will help with the stench.”

“Are they really that bad?”

“Worse.”

“I’m sorry, Greez.”

Greez looks up from his stirring. “Why do you always make me feel so bad about stuff, even when you’re in the wrong and I’m definitely in the right?”

BD suggests it’s a Jedi thing. Cal smiles. “I didn’t mean to,” he offers.

“See? There you go doing it again. Listen, kid, honestly, I wish you wouldn’t bring back stuff you find on these planets. I’m sure we can find you something during a supply run. However, I get that you like them and therefore you gotta meet me midway – keep ‘em, but clean ‘em. Properly. None of your wash your clothes while you shower or swim nonsense. And if you’re taking a breath to tell me that’s how it was done on Bracca, I do not wanna know.”

Cal breathes out and closes his mouth.

“You don’t have to live like you’re a credit away from financial ruin. We’re not multimillionaires, but we’re not broke. And if you don’t know how to use the machine, ask. I’m not gonna judge.”

“Thanks, Greez.”

“And maybe don’t stuff wet clothes into a box under your bed.”

“But –”

“Ah! What did I say about Bracca?”

“You don’t wanna know.”

“Atta boy.”

Chapter Text

Rare is the day Cal is up before Greez, but today’s that day and Greez finds the kid in the galley, staring into the cupboards like he has no idea what food is…

…or he’s sleepwalking.

“You sleepwalking?” Greez asks.

“No,” Cal sighs.

Greez looks, but BD’s not with him. “Something wrong?”

Closing the cupboard, Cal turns to Greez without meeting his eyes. He’s squirming. The kid is definitely squirming. What’s he done? Has he damaged the Mantis? No, wait, is he sick? Is this a Cere problem? It’s probably a Cere –

“I’m hungry.”

That’s it? That’s his big –

“And I don’t… I don’t know… I can’t…”

“Sometime today, Cal.”

He blushes a bright red. “I don’t know how to cook any of this stuff.”

“Oh!” Greez gasps. He sees Cal flush a brighter shade of shameful red. Crap. Not the right reaction. “Oh. Oh, kid. Sorry, I didn’t even think.”

And now that he is thinking about it, he realizes unless it’s something super basic (making tea, making toast, spreading stuff on toast), pre-cooked, or straight out of a packet, Greez has never seen Cal prepare food for himself. Now, to be fair, Greez hasn't exactly given Cal the chance because cooking is his domain and his last experience with a Jedi in the kitchen was a disaster, but maybe it's a bigger problem than previously understood. In the early days, Cal wouldn't help himself to anything, fearful perhaps that he'd be charged for it, or they'd run out and someone else would have to go without. The kid asked permission for everything, even if his stomach growled for all to hear. Greez fixed that quirk by sitting the kid down and making it clear Greez's galley was Cal’s galley and nothing, not even the alcohol, was off limits unless someone verbally reserved it. If Cal was hungry, he could eat. If he wanted a snack, he could have another cookie. He didn’t need to worry about the budget or skipping meals to make the food last longer. It was all good.

All of which brought Greez back to their current problem; Cal can't take what isn't there.

“It’s okay,” Cal says, mistaking Greez's silence for something other than pity and shame. “Why would you when I never said anything ‘til now?”

Greez can’t stand it. He can’t stand the way Cal deflects apologies. And he can’t stand that this kid, who can use the Force for all kinds of insane antics, can’t cook. It’s a basic life skill, one he intends to hammer into Cal, starting right now. “Alright. Sit. I’m gonna make you something nice and easy, and you’re gonna watch and follow along. Or are you a note taker? How’s the best way for you to learn?”

Cal stares at him for a second before shaking himself. “I guess I learn best by being shown what to do. That’s how Pr – that’s how I learned on Bracca. And with the Jedi.”

“Great, I teach best by demonstrating,” Greez says. “Wash up. We’re gonna start with the basics and build up from there. Nice and easy. What could go wrong?”

“Uh –”

“Forget I asked. Now go on, wash your hands.”

The basics are scrambling and seasoning eggs. Gentle seasoning because Cal has a delicate palate after years of what he calls ‘Bracca Stodge’. He’ll get better with time and exposure, according to Cere. Not today though. Today is small. Today is a baby step, and Greez is relieved to have an eager and willing student in Cal. For someone so familiar with breaking things and fighting, he can be surprisingly gentle and deft of touch when he needs to be. For a moment, Greez pictures him as one of those little Jedi Padawans Cere’s told him about, all bright-eyed and idealistic. The idea of baby Jedi kind of terrifies Greez because who in their right minds puts tiny children in danger, no matter how superpowered, but he has never and will never say that aloud. Anyway, Cal is a bit too weather-beaten to call idealistic, although the will to learn hasn’t diminished at all. And Greez can’t help but melt just the teeniest tiniest little bit when he sees how proud Cal is of himself when he succeeds in making his own breakfast.

“Thanks, Greez,” Cal says after he finishes inhaling his food. “You’re a great teacher.”

“Yeah, you’re welcome. Just don’t put me out of a job, alright? I enjoy cooking. It’s very cathartic for me.”

Laughing, Cal leans back in his chair. “Don’t worry, I won’t be a threat to you any time soon.”

Before Greez can respond, BD-1 trumpets his arrival. He leaps onto Cal’s back, asking what he missed. When Cal explains how Greez taught him to cook an egg, BD lets out a sorrowful beep.

“What’s wrong with the droid?” Greez asks.

Cal smiles fondly at his friend. “He’s sad he didn’t get to scan it before I ate it.”

“Oh.” Freaky little thing, scanning people’s meals. “Good news: he’s gonna have plenty more chances.”

Cal perks up at this, and so does BD-1.

Greez turns away before they can see his smile. What a ridiculous pair they are.

Chapter Text

The planet sings. Cal feels it the moment they touch down. This world is so alive, and not because there’s a Maw somewhere beneath him, waiting for its next meal. The Force gushes and froths, a rapid river ready to swallow him whole. Beyond the cockpit, the planet’s incredible plant life shimmers in the soft rain, yellows, reds, purples, oranges, pinks, humming and swaying. The Force wants to take him by the hand and lead him in a dance. He looks to Cere. Does she feel it too? If she does, she shows nothing. Is that how effectively she’s cut herself off from the Force? Cal can’t imagine not feeling this, even if the Force might pull him apart like petals on the wind.

“Cal?” Greez calls as he finalises the landing procedure. “Something wrong? You’re looking spacey.”

He shakes his head, unable to put it into words. What would he say to someone who can’t feel the Force at all? How could he explain how this planet shines? BD too. He has no sense of this.

What a terrible, inexplicable loss for them. Cal can’t bear it. He can’t.

“Hey, whoa, what –” Greez’s confusion is silenced when Cal wraps his arms around him and hugs him tight. “You okay, kid?”

Cal feels Greez patting him on the back, offering comfort when it should be the other way around. He reaches out, pulls BD in close too. “I wish you two could feel this.”

“Uh –”

BD gives a curious beep.

Cal can’t speak.

“This planet is very, very strong in the Force,” Cere explains for Greez’s benefit. “Cal is a little overwhelmed by it.”

“Oh,” Greez says. He returns the hug. “If this is what Cal looks like when he’s overwhelmed, I think we can handle it.”

BD announces Cal scan results suggest he’s high.

Cere’s smile catches on the Force and flutters off on golden wings. “Yes, it probably feels a lot like that for him.”

Cal can’t contain himself a moment longer. Releasing Greez and BD, he rushes to the hatch, hits the override, and opens the ship up to the world ahead. He throws himself to the ground before the ramp can finish extending. His feet hit the grass – bare feet because he didn’t stop to put his socks or boots on. Pollen and seeds cast themselves into the air, sparkling in the light when the sun breaks through the rainclouds. Cal tilts his face to the sky, eyes closed as he basks in the energy humming around him. No, he won’t fly away here. Maybe he’ll sink instead, into a cloud of light and life, streams of light dancing around him. He does a one-legged twirl worthy of BD just to take it all in, pulling the Force around him so it gathers like a cloak. The Force takes his hand and pulls him away, leading him up, up, up, above a forest of flowers in bloom and trees finding new life in spring. The world is coming back to life after a long, hard winter, and the planet sings with such joy the Force swells and rises.

A hand lands on his shoulder. “Cal.”

It’s hard, returning to himself. Cere’s warm hand, the cupped light that is her true self a beacon calling him back. He opens his eyes and sees a meadow around him, flowers turned to him like he is the sun. He’s on his knees, Cere at his side. Lungs full of fresh, clean air, he reaches out, lets the yellowpinkpurplered petals brush over his fingers. “Cere,” he breathes. He can’t capture what this place is. He’s never felt anything like it. Never. And with his slowly healing Force connection, it feels like… like maybe he really can do what Cere’s asking of him, expecting of him.

Trust only in the Force.

Cere crouches down, wrapping an arm around him. “I know,” she says.

He falls against her side, closing tear-filled eyes. Such joy. He doesn’t want to leave.

“Can you hold onto yourself while Greez and I head into town, or do we need to go somewhere else?”

It’s an effort to pull back, to put a barrier between him and this wonderful place. He is drunk on this place, so high he could brush the stars with his fingers.

Cere’s hand closes around his, pulling it down. “I think Greez might need to go on this trip alone.”

Cal falls forward, pressing his ear to the dirt. He can hear the planet’s song. He wants to listen to its ebb and flow forever.

“Is he okay?” Greez’s voice blends with the music.

“Can you manage the resupply?” Cere’s voice soars above the chorus. “I need to stay with him.”

Cal can’t contain himself. “I can hear the song.”

BD whistles, his weight leaving Cal’s back. The next thing he feels is Cere’s hand once more, resting on his back. She is a mute dulling the music, and he can’t stand it. He can’t. He doesn’t want to simply hear it; he wants to be in that flow.  “Let go,” he tells Cere.

“No. I know, Cal, I know what this must be like for you, but you mustn’t let it carry you away. Hold onto yourself. Let the Force flow around you here, not through you. If the Force is a river, you are standing on the banks watching it rush by.”

He doesn’t want to watch. It’s not enough. He’s never felt the Force so completely before, so happy, unrestrained, life, so much life, everything alive and –

Cere’s touch is more insistent now, a sharp tug where a Padawan braid once would have hung. Startled, he stares at her. “I know, I’m sorry. Focus on me. We’re going back to the ship.”

“To meditate?”

“No, not here. I think you’d disappear forever.”

“Become one with the Force?” It would be like being all the colours of a rainbow. He can’t help smiling.

“Definitely no becoming one with the Force, Cal. We’re going to ground you, one way or another.”

The Mantis hums around him, and Cal can’t remember if that’s the ship’s usual sound or if maybe it’s found a song to sing too. Cere sits him down on the couch.

“Potolli weave really is so comfortable,” Cal sighs.

“Come back to the ship.” Cere sits on the table ahead of him.

“You shine,” Cal tells her. He pokes her. “You can’t hide it from me!”

Cere smiles, a strange smile, all sad and wistful. “When your master wanted you to hone your focus, what did he make you do?” she asks.

Padawan, it is –

“– time for instruction.” He giggles at his own impression of Master Tapal.

“And what were those instructions?” Cere asks gently.

Focus on the here and now, what you see ahead of you, the scent in the air, the feel of the deck beneath your feet and the clothes against your skin. Tell me all about it.

By the time Cal is done telling Cere all about it, the planet’s song has dropped in volume, the Force receding, and he feels very aware of himself. Was he always so unwieldy? So clumsy? He stares at Cere, feeling the blush on his skin. Did he really try to hug the ground? Maybe if he asks nicely, it will swallow him whole. “Sorry, I –”

She cuts him off. “It’s very special, isn’t it?”

He grins. “Very.”

Chapter Text

“I can’t look at it.” Greez has gone a very strange colour. Who knew he could go green. It gives him the look of an oncoming thunderstorm. “I can’t believe you walked back here like this. And I can’t believe you’re bleeding all over my ship. I don’t let people bleed on my ship.”

“Cal is honoured, I’m sure,” Cere says with evident sarcasm.

“At least it’s the deck and not the potolli weave. And don’t look so worried; I’ve had worse,” Cal tells Greez. And he has. Bracca is notorious. The entire planet is a scrapheap, and in the patches where there aren’t decades worth of wasted starships or war machines, there are rocks that will jab tear right through the toughest skin. And Human skin is not that tough. Jedi reflexes are the only reason he still has all his limbs and his head attached.

“Oh. Oh good, he’s had worse,” Greez mutters.

“Maybe you should sit down,” Cal says. “You’re looking wobbly.”

“I gotta… I can’t look at this. I… Hells, I feel sick.”

“Greez, go sit somewhere else, preferably before you pass out,” Cere orders. “I don’t need two patients.”

“Yeah, yeah, good idea.”

Cal and Cere wait until Greez is tucked away in his cabin. BD goes with him, beeping when Greez is safely inside, then returns to Cal’s side, nuzzling close.

Cal looks back to Cere, who studies his leg like it’s a particularly challenging puzzle. “Alright,” she says. “I’m going to get some supplies. Under no circumstances are you to touch anything.”

“Touching nothing, you got it.” Cal even provides a jaunty salute.

This earns him the back of Cere’s hand to the forehead. Her hand is wonderfully icy. She swears, pulling it back. “BD, watch him. If his temperature gets any higher, tell me.”

To this, BD-1 informs Cere he told Cal not to go wading through Bogano’s overly acidic water in his condition, and he definitely told him to call for help, all to no avail. Cere gives BD a pat, tells him it’s not his fault, and heads off.

“Telltale,” Cal mutters, giving BD a gentle tap.

Well, if some people would take better care of themselves…

“Yeah, yeah.”

Cal shifts slightly, trying to find a more comfortable position for his leg. He can’t take his eyes off the metal shard sticking out of his thigh. He can’t really feel it, so long as he moves slowly, and it’s starting to look alien, like maybe the whole leg isn’t really his because someone replaced it while he was sleeping. He tells BD-1 this, and BD immediately shrieks for Cere, who comes back with a lot of supplies. She listens to BD, nods, and immediately gets to work. She doesn’t even give Cal a warning, just rips the offending hunk of metal out of his leg, injects a painkiller and antibiotics, and starts cleaning.

Cal runs out of swear words as she actives the auto-suture, so he just goes back around on a loop.

“Is it safe to come out yet?” Greez shouts from the back of the ship.

“Not sure,” Cere calls back. “How good are you with the sight of blood?”

Greez moans. Cal levers himself up on his elbows. He stares and stares at the mess that is his leg. Heat builds in his body, tinnitus whistling in his ears. “Oh, wow, that’s a lot!”

“Shut up, Cal!” Greez hollers.

Cere reaches over and pushes him back down. “Now you’re going pale. Do not pass out on me.”

“I told you,” Cal says as he does as he’s told, and BD jumps onto his chest as if to pin him in place. “I’ve had worse.”

“I’m sure you have, but you’ve also lost a lot of blood and only a corpse should be the colour you are right now,” Cere says.

“Oh,” Cal says. He’s silent for a moment while Cere bandages his leg. “Hey, wait, where’d it go?”

“Where did what go?” Cere asks.

“The thing in my leg. I wanna keep it. It’s a souvenir.”

Sighing, Cere scoops it off the ground. Cal holds it, fingers sticking to the blood, marvelling at just how much was buried in his leg.

His leg.

Not an alien leg.

He drops the metal on the deck again. Maybe he doesn’t need to keep that after all. “Remind me not to fall onto ancient scrap metal ever again,” he tells BD.

BD promises to offer daily reminders.

Chapter Text

"Hey, Cal?"

Restraining a sigh, because Cal knows this tone, he looks over at Greez. "Yeah?"

Greez's hands tap a fluttery beat on the helm controls. "I have a question."

BD-1 snickers. Cal nudges him. "What is it?" he asks Greez.

"You're getting pretty good with this Force stuff, right?"

"Better than I was anyway," Cal replies.

"Okay, if you had to, and I mean really, really had to..."

Cal prepares himself for what's incoming.

"...could you tear someone apart with the Force? Like..." Here, Greez splays numerous hands wide, as though someone has just gone splat. "Like that?"

Cal blinks. Looks for Cere. She's nowhere in sight. It is pretty late after all.

Greez laughs, the pitch too high. "You're not about to try it on me right now, are you?"

Cal thinks about it. Thinks about what it would take to pull someone apart, bit by bit. The power. The willingness.

The mess in the aftermath. Grizzly.

He hears BD-1 whistle at him.

Hears Greez clear his throat.

Cal leans back in his chair, thinking hard.

"Cal?" Greez calls.

Could he? Could he pull someone apart? Hypothetically speaking of course...

"Cal!"

Blinking, Cal looks to Greez. "...maybe."

"Okay, great, good to know, thanks." Greez immediately sets the autopilot and takes himself off to his cabin.

Cal looks to BD-1, fist raised for a bump, which he receives.

"Should I try it on that rotten fruit?" Cal asks.

BD rockets away with an excited trill.

Chapter Text

BD nudges Cal’s arm.

Nudges.

Nudges.

Nu -

“What’s up, buddy?” Cal asks, not looking up from the workbench where his lightsaber sits in its cradle. He’s fixed the power switch - it’s been getting laggy - and now he needs to smooth over the rough edges on the casing again. Using the ‘saber so much means he’s really had to step up his maintenance routine. He listens with half an ear as BD-1 goes off, only catching the last bit, which is something about…

“Dinner?” Cal asks.

BD whoops and hops down, ready to head to the lounge. Cal turns back to the workbench. “Maybe later,” he says. “I’ve really gotta finish this before I forget and cut my hand open the next time a stormtrooper tries to shoot us.” Maybe if he finds some electrical tape it will hold for now. Not exactly what his master had in mind when he built this lightsaber all those years ago, but it will do in a –

BD nudges Cal’s leg.

Nudges.

Nudges.

Nudges.

Nu -

“Kinda busy, BD.” There’s got to be something around here somewhere he can use. Greez won’t mind too much if Cal takes something out of the ship’s maintenance kit. He’ll replace it as soon as –

BD squawks about how Cal has not had any sustenance since breakfast, and that was not enough to sustain healthy organic bodies, especially adolescent ones.

“Let me finish this and –”

And BD starts beeping at his highest volume.

“BD, stop!”

BD does not stop.

Amusement flares into the Force nearby, a sunburst of joy despite the grating sound of BD’s squawking. And BD does not stop until Cal relents, washes up in the 'fresher (Greez’s rules on this are not to be messed with) and heads into the galley where Cere and Greez stare at him with equally fake looks of innocence. BD hops onto Cal’s back and peeks over his shoulder, commenting that, for organic nourishment, the food looks good.

“Uh, BD wanted me to come to dinner,” Cal says.

“Good job, droid,” Greez says, serving up a mushroom risotto. Cal’s stomach gives a hungry gurgle at the sight. “New rule, Cal. Unless there is some kind of genuine Jedi emergency that keeps you from the dinner table, you turn up when asked.”

“Fine,” Cal sighs. “Only in emergencies. Will that include if I’m –”

“Let’s deal with the eventualities when we come to them,” Cere intercepts smoothly, pushing a plate in his direction.

BD whoops in agreement.

Greez nods.

Cal knows when he’s beat.

Chapter Text

Cal staggers aboard the Mantis looking… well, he doesn’t look good. Perhaps he tangled with Zeffo’s wildlife and came off worse. Greez stares at him, cataloguing injuries. Cal’s hand is torn up, there’s blood seeping from his hairline, and what is with that massive black eye?

And speaking of his eyes…

“Are you high?” Greez’s voice comes out at least an octave higher than he intended, causing Cere to stick her head out of the cockpit.

“No!” Cal does not help his case by bursting out into laughter. “I wish I was.”

The demonic droid on his shoulder laughs too.

Cere steps out. “Cal? What happened?”

He turns to her, but his eyes don’t quite meet hers. Cere frowns. Greez has a bad feeling wailing in the back of his mind. Whatever Cal’s about to say, he knows it’s going to be very, very messy.

“Uh, so someone used a flash grenade on me.”

Greez grabs the table to hold himself up. “Someone from the Brood?”

Cal winces. “Yeah…”

So, this is Greez’s fault. “Oh, kid, I am so sorry.”

Cal flaps a hand in his direction. “It’s not your fault, Greez, don’t worry about it.”

“But –”

Cere interrupts, and she sounds nearly as incredulous as Greez. “Cal, are you blind?”

“Blind?” Greez feels sick. The kid’s blind?

“Only temporarily,” Cal insists. “Although it is lasting longer this time.” He waves a hand in front of his eyes. “Weird.”

Weird? That’s all he has to say? It’s weird being blind? And then a new terrible thought dawns. “Wait, how did you get back here?” Greez demands.

Cal shrugs. “Used the Force. Kinda, y’know, sensed where stuff would be.” He waggles his fingers to indicate ‘stuff’.

BD-1 issues a squawk.

“And BD helped. A lot. I fell over a few times to begin with. Gonna have to replenish those stims, huh?”

BD-1 warbles.

“You used them all?” Greez asks. Because if he still had these injuries, what else had happened?

“I’m absolutely fine, Greez, seriously, don’t worry.”

“You’re blind and bloody!” Greez groans. “This is not fine!”

Cere steps up close. Cal accepts her ministrations with all the grace he can muster. “Your pupils have dilated,” she says. “What can you actually see?”

“It’s all very white,” he says. “And I guess whenever I’m looking at something bright, it hurts.”

“Right,” Cere says with the tone of a woman on a mission. “Let’s get you somewhere dark. You need to give your eyes time to readjust. And we definitely need to clean you up.”

BD-1 beeps something and Greez decides to interpret it as ‘I told you so!’

Sighing dramatically, Cal allows himself to be dragged away. Greez goes too, because he’s not going to relax until he’s sure Cal’s not permanently injured. He’s Cere’s assistant, grabbing supplies as needed, including a lengthy washcloth for Cal to rest over his eyes.

“I could meditate with my eyes closed,” Cal suggests as he takes the cloth and obligingly places it over his closed eyes.

“Later,” Cere says. “I want to be sure there’s no permanent damage.”

“It’s my own fault,” Cal says as Cere wipes out the massive gash hiding under his thick red hair. “The bounty hunter threw the flash grenade when I knocked them off the cliff and, like an idiot, I looked right at it.”

“The bounty hunter landed a few blows?” Cere asks.

“No!” Cal says, rightfully insulted that Cere would underestimate him. “I fell a couple times trying to get back up a cliff.”

Greez hears himself moan. Because of course Cal climbed cliffs while blind. Why wouldn’t he? A normal person might sit down and have a perfectly understandable panic attack. Cal? He climbed. “And you definitely hadn’t gone blind before this?” Greez asks. “You’re not hiding some terrible brain injury?”

“Nope, definitely the flash grenade,” Cal says. He doesn’t flinch when Cere applies bacta to his head and moves onto his injured hand. “Promise.”

“How?” Greez can’t get his head around this. “How did…”

“Like I said, the Force and BD helped,” Cal says.

BD-1 is very proud of himself.

“Explains why your hand is missing a few layers of skin,” Cere comments.

Greez figures he’s better off not looking.

“Yeah, that stings,” Cal chuckles, the sound strained. “Maybe I should wear gloves on both hands.”

“You did well to get back here,” Cere says. “Using the Force for such an extended period would not have been easy.”

Cal gives a huge yawn to prove her point. “Yeah, never done that before,” he eventually admits.

It’s not a comfort at all to know a blind Cal was out there experimenting with his abilities. Why are Jedi like this? “You didn’t think to call for help?” Greez asks.

“Nah, it was fine.” Cal yawns again. “Totally had it under control.”

“That hand says otherwise,” Greez says, daring to take a look at the strips of skin hanging loose. Oof, bad idea. Very bad idea. That’s gonna haunt his dreams. He draws breath to continue.

Cere nudges him, a silent note to keep quiet.

“Tell me all about it later,” Cere says to Cal. “I know we train without our sight, but not quite like this.”

Cal’s only response is a grunt. By the time Cere’s finished, he’s fully asleep. She asks Greez to dim the engine room’s lights to further help Cal’s eyes to readjust. They leave him under BD-1’s watchful gaze until, precisely one hour later, Cere goes to wake him. Greez stays in the galley, chewing on a thumb. Cere returns without Cal a little while later. She reaches over, gives Greez a pat on the shoulder. “It’s blurry, but his vision is returning. He’ll be fine. His eyes need longer to adjust. And he probably needs to sleep for a while yet, so leave him be.”

“Alright. So he’s gonna be okay?”

“He’ll be fine,” Cere says, heading back to the cockpit. “And picked up a useful skill.”

Giddy with relief, Greez bakes sorry-for-bringing-the-Brood-down-on-your-head-but-hey-you’re-not-blind cookies, ready for when Cal wakes up.

Chapter Text

Greez has been disappearing into his cabin a lot lately. Whenever the ship is safely in hyperspace, autopilot engaged, Greez makes sure everyone has what they need in terms of food and drink and then just… disappears.

“Is it something we said?” Cal asks.

“No,” Cere reassures him after a sip of her tea.

BD asks if it’s because he accidentally tracked bogling droppings into the ship.

“No,” Cere says without looking up from her datapad.

Cal and BD share a look. Both shrug.

“Do you know why he’s disappearing?”

“Mmm hmm.”

“You gonna tell us?”

“Nu uh.”

“Thanks, Cere, that’s real informative. Glad we had this conversation.”

“You’ll find out soon enough,” she says. “Some things are worth waiting for.”

The next morning, Cal awakens when something is shoved onto his head. Arms flailing, brain somewhere between a dream and reality, he finds Greez grinning and BD scanning at his bedside.

“Suits him, don’t ya think?”

BD whoops and wags.

Cal reaches up and grabs what’s on his head. A rush of emotions go through him, chief among them determination. I will teach this kid self-preservation if it’s the last damn thing I do. It’s a knitted hat, the blue and orange wool matching his poncho. He stares at Greez. “You made this?”

“Eh, my great-grandma taught me more than you know. No more running around ice planets without that hat, understood?”

Eyes wide, throat aching from the effort of not crying, Cal nods. “Understood.” Somehow, his voice doesn’t crack.

Chapter Text

The distant sound of clipping drags Cal out of his meditation. Opening his eyes, he finds himself alone in the engine room. BD has taken off. Cal’s not surprised. They’re tucked up on Bogano before they head back to Dathomir, so he’s probably checking in with his bogling friends.

Standing, Cal stretches out, shakes off a few lingering aches, checks his new hat is still in place to keep him warm, and heads out. He finds Greez alone, tidying up the terrarium.

“You’re finally looking thawed out,” Greez says without looking up.

“Thanks. I guess.” It is nice that Cal can feel his toes again. That’ll teach him to go plunging into an icy pool on a frozen planet.

“You’ve got caf in the pot and a spice cake I saved ‘specially for you,” Greez continues. “Cere and BD will be back later. They’ve gone exploring. Guess Cere wanted to find some of this Cordova guy’s stuff. She wants you to stay here, rest up before we head to Dathomir.”

Cal glances wistfully out of the hatch. “I’m fine.”

“I’m not saying you aren’t. I’m saying it’s alright to stay put for once.”

He spent five years staying put. Now that he’s free, he wants to roam…

…although he doesn’t have his boots on right now, and he is still tired, like Ilum’s cold ate into all his reserves and left him with nothing. He feels better than before, and ready for what he must do next, but a nap would really –

“Gimmie a hand here once you’re fed and watered,” Greez orders. “You planted all of these, so you should learn how to take care of them.”

Cal drinks his caf. It’s about as bitter as the stuff Prauf used to make on Bracca, strong enough to wipe the heat scarring off a hull. Cere made this pot for sure. Greez usually sneaks a syrup in when he makes it. Thankfully, the spice cake takes the caf’s bitter edge off. He plods over to Greez and looks at where he’s trimming a tiny green puff of grass, complete with little purple flowers. “What’s that?” Cal asks. “I don’t remember seeing something like that.”

“It’s a weed,” Greez says. “Must’ve snuck in with the other seeds.”

“You can’t get rid of it,” Cal protests. “It’s pretty!”

“It is a weed,” Greez spells out. “It could kill the other flowers.”

Cal scoffs. “Flowers are just weeds with better propaganda. Let it stay.”

Greez sighs. “Go down to the lower deck, open the supply locker, and dig out another flowerpot. Grab the extra compost too. If we’re keeping it, it’s going in another container. I’m not risking the others. Weeds could choke the roots or – ”

“I’ll get it!” Cal rushes off and collects everything he needs. He hurries back and follows Greez’s instructions about filling the spare pot with compost, making a hole in it for the plant.

“Weed,” Greez repeats.

“Flowers,” Cal shoots back.

“Fine, whatever. You can keep it back there in the engine room. Decorate your workbench with it.”

“My workbench?”

“Cal, buddy, I haven’t gone near that thing since we picked you up. It’s yours, trust me. Now, let’s get this thing replanted.”

It’s his? The workbench is his? Cal’s never had a workbench of his own before.

“…hear me?”

Cal shakes himself. “Yeah, sorry. Show me what to do.”

Between them, Greez and Cal moved the so-called ‘weed’ out of the terrarium and into the new pot. The green grass and little flowers spill over in a cascade of life. Cal holds it up, poking at it with the Force. He can feel it settling into its new home, roots digging in. He’d never spent much time on botany, but he remembers learning about the Jedi who could encourage plants to grow and thrive. Maybe he could learn how.

“Put that one aside for now and help me with these vines. Next time you find plants on Dathomir, leave them there.”

“You needed the challenge,” Cal says, grabbing a pair of clippers and following Greez’s lead by dead-heading the plant. “Everything else was easy.”

“Nothing wrong with things being easy.” Greez heads off to fill the watering can.

“If you say so.” Cal reaches out to the Force, senses the difference between each plant. He can feel the different worlds in their leaves and flowers. The Force does live in them, as it does in all living things. It’s not as complex as it is in sentient life, but the flowers pulse and glow with their own energy and power. Some are pretty proud of their blooms too, and Cal smiles with them.

A chuckle and pat on the back from Greez pulls Cal’s attention back.

“Yeah, I knew it,” Greez says, handing over the watering can.

“What did you know?” Cal asks, watering the plants he can feel need it.

“Gardening’s good for the soul,” Greez explains.

“Oh.” Cal looks at his ‘weed’. “Yeah, I guess it is.”

Chapter Text

Cal is quiet after Zeffo. Or, more accurately, he’s quiet after the abandoned Venator. They’d stopped off there on the way back to Dathomir so Cal could familiarise himself with his new lightsaber. Greez figured that would mean cutting through a few stormtroopers and any lingering bounty hunters. Instead, it turned into him venturing into the depths of the Venator wrecked in a lake.

Cere tried talking to Cal, but he wasn’t forthcoming. It’s not some lingering ill-will between them – Ilum seemed to have fixed that. Cal is being… well, he’s being Cal – mute on all the things he needs to shout and scream about. Greez wishes he’d talk to Cere some more. Venator is Jedi stuff. It’s Cere-and-Cal stuff, not Greez-and-Cal stuff. Except Cal isn’t talking to her the way he needs to and Greez doesn’t need psychic abilities to know the kid’s hurting. They’re enroute to Dathomir now to finish what they started there, but Cal isn’t eating or sleeping the way he needs to.

Greez cannot let it stand.

He takes a plate of cookies and a cup of blue milk to the engine room where Cal is at the workbench, headphones on, new lightsaber currently undergoing one of its many tune-ups. The droid is watching with interest… At least Greez figures BD-1 is interested. What does he know about droids? Whatever. He gets BD-1’s attention, who in turn he pokes Cal. Cal turns, sliding his headphones down and leaving them around his neck. He blinks at Greez, eyes glazed and shadowed, looking for all the worlds like an overtired child.

Crushing an urge to order Cal to bed, Greez holds out the plate. “Cookie?”

Cal looks, shakes his head. “No, thanks.”

Gonna be like that, is it? “You gotta eat, so it’s cookies and milk, or that weird slimy stuff at the back of the fridge I keep meaning to clean out.”

Cal appears to actually consider it. Greez throws a cookie at him. He catches it without blinking, takes a bite. “Thanks,” he says listlessly. “It’s really good.”

“Jeez, kid, really feeling the love.”

“Sorry,” Cal says, sounding like he means it despite how weary he is. “I like it, promise.”

Greez decides to go for the kill. “Didn’t find anything good on that wreck, huh?”

Cal slumps. “No.”

Greez sits himself on Cal’s bed, patting the space next to him. BD-1 gets the message quicker, hopping off the bench and racing over. He starts scanning the plate, announcing his findings in such bright whistle even Greez can’t help smiling at the little droid’s joy. Cal joins them and takes another cookie and the milk. He dunks the cookie and sips the milk. He’s still not talking. 

Silence is not Greez’s gift. The Jedi might have taught their kids about peace and serenity but Greez’s great-grandma was all about talking out your feelings. “I’m sorry,” he says. “I saw a crashed ship and got stupid ideas about treasure in my head. I didn’t even think what a Venator meant to you. That was selfish.”

Cal doesn’t talk until he’s finished the milk. “It’s okay.” He wipes his mouth with a sleeve. “Neither did I.” He straightened his back. “I’m okay.” He puts on a crooked smile. “It’s not the first wrecked Venator I’ve been aboard." Greez barely represses a shudder. It doesn’t matter anyway. Cal looks at him, takes another cookie. "It’s alright, really. What happened to it happened a long time ago, and it didn’t happen to me.” And then he laughs. “Not exactly like that, anyway.”

If he wants to convince Greez everything’s fine, Cal is doing a terrible job. “Anyone ever tell you it’s normal to have a bad day?” Greez asks. “That you don’t have to pretend it’s okay when you feel like someone’s kicked you in the gut?”

“Sure, usually after a bunch of scrappers died, and I had to work triple shifts.”

It’s all Greez can do not to slap the kid upside the head. “You don’t need to tell me details. You don’t have to pretend this isn’t getting to you. There’s no shame in saying it was really shit, and you wish you hadn’t gone aboard.”

Cal laughs for real at that. “It was shit, but I needed to go aboard. Had to work through a few things in my head.”

“Echoes.”

“And your own memories?”

Cal nods.

“And?”

“And I’ll get back to you,” he says, grabbing another cookie. He stands, thumping Greez in the shoulder. “Thanks, Greez.” He moves back to the workbench, reaching for his headphones. “I appreciate it.”

It isn’t the outright win Greez had been looking for, but he’ll take it. “I’ll make soup for dinner.” Something light. Something easily reheated if Cal initially refuses. “Two hours. And wash up before you come to the table. I don’t want lightsaber grease on my table.”

“You got it.” And with that, Cal’s headphones are back in place and he’s back to work.

BD-1 bumps his head against Greez’s leg, whistles cheerily, and hurries after Cal. Leaving the cookies on Cal’s bed, Greez heads out. It’s not perfect, but it’s better than nothing.

Chapter Text

Greez likes to test Cal and this whole Force thing of his by throwing random things at him and seeing what happens.

The first time, Cal is totally bemused when he catches a granola bar aimed at his head. Greez’s mouth drops open because Cal catches it with his left hand and doesn’t even turn. He just knows.

“Thought you might be hungry,” Greez offers. It’s a weak excuse, but he can hardly admit the truth.

Turning, Cal stares at him for a moment, expression unreadable. Then he shrugs, thanks Greez, and eats the granola bar.

The second time Greez tries, Cal catches the towel without looking up from BD-1 who’s having a systems check on the workbench. “I get it, Greez. I’ll wash after BD’s finished.”

The third time, Cal dodges a clump of soil. He’s laughing mercilessly. He’s wound Greez up into a frenzy because some people leave their stinking boots where others have to smell them, and no, it isn’t funny and no other living being should have to smell that.

Cal is impressive, sure, but this isn’t what Greez is looking for. He wants to see the good Jedi stuff. The stuff the stories talk about.

He wants to see Cal really use the Force. And no, taking down that AT-ST doesn't count.

(He also knows Cere is aware of what he’s up to and he doesn’t even care.)

Greez’s fourth attempt is poorly timed because Cal is half-asleep. He nearly takes a mug to the face for that one. He’s saved only by Greez’s poor aim.

“Sorry, slipped,” Greez offers.

Cal frowns, picks the mug up off the deck and puts it on the galley table. “You’re weird,” he announces before disappearing back to the engine room.

Weird? Kid’s a Jedi and he’s calling Greez weird?

Oh, no, wait. What if he thinks throwing things is some kind of Lateron greeting custom?

Greez swears he’ll stop once he gets what he wants.

(Which is why Cal patiently and apparently unknowingly evades everything from tools to datapads and even food. He does not take the throwing of food kindly. Greez realises he’s wasting it and feels bad. Cere’s glare ensures that he does.)

Eventually, Greez gets what he wants. And really, he shouldn’t be counting because this time he didn’t throw anything on purpose. How is it his fault that, as he retells the story of how he escaped a cantina when a bunch of bounty hunters decided to have a massive showdown, he catches the edge of the pot he’s making his black bean and totoli fish fajita mix in and sends the whole thing plummeting towards the deck.

Until Cal catches it.

From the other side of the table.

With the Force.

Greez is so amazed he can’t even move to lift the pot and scoop the food back into it from where Cal’s suspended it in midair. Cere winds up taking care of it and Cal sits back down like it was nothing, chatting with BD-1.

Cere nudges Greez, bending down and keeping her voice low. “You can stop throwing things at him now.”

Chapter Text

Greez arrives at the engine room door with a bucket and a mop. “I don’t care if you lived in a hovel full of rust, mold and damp on Bracca – you live on my ship now, so you live by my rules, and Benduday is chores day.” He looks around the deck, no doubt noting the new scuff marks and boot imprints. “Yeah, you can start off in here. Then I want the hallway, the galley, and the lounge squeaky clean.”

Cal stares at him from the workbench where he’d been double-checking his repair job on BD’s leg. “I did live in a hovel full of rust, mold and damp. I still kept it clean.”

“Great! No excuses then!” Greez leaves the mop and the bucket by the door. “Oh, and don’t you go getting any ideas about using your space wizard powers to clean. I don’t want you blowing anything up back here.”

BD says exactly what he thinks about that. He also tells Greez about Cal’s plans to take a nap, but he is not understood in the slightest. Greez jabs a pair of fingers at him. “I can still flush you down the refresher, droid!”

Cal gets between the pair very, very quickly. “It’s fine,” he says, pushing his hair out of his eyes. “I’ll clean up.”

“Alright, good.”

Greez heads out. Cal offers BD a shrug, finishes his checks, and then gets to work mopping. It’s strangely soothing, watching the dirt wash away. There some distant lesson in his mind about moving meditations. Master Tapal could turn anything into a lesson when he wanted to… which was always. When Cal reaches the galley, he finds Cere unpacking the dishwasher. She stares at him, chuckling at his bemusement.

“Chores are everyone’s business,” she explains, placing a stack of plates in a cupboard.

Cal looks beyond her, but Greez is nowhere to be seen. BD is not impressed.

“He’s in the refresher,” Cere explains. “Greez is very particular about it, and I suggest you don’t question it.”

“He doesn’t let you clean it?”

“Oh, absolutely not.”

Cal continues swabbing. “Is it a Greez thing or a Lateron thing?”

“Honestly, your guess is as good as mine.” Cere finishes in the galley and pulls a duster out of the storage locker. “I’m going to clean off the holotable and the cockpit readouts.”

“You’re allowed to clean the cockpit?”

“Oh, only the screens.”

Cal scrubs at a particularly stubborn splash of juice under the galley table he knows he left there during breakfast. “Is there anything else I should know?”

“Do not, under any circumstances, move Greez’s cleaning supplies, and whatever you do, don’t sit on the couch immediately after he’s cleaned off the potolli weave. You’ll never get the stain remover off your clothes.”

Cal looks at his well-worn uniform. “Would you even notice?”

“Definitely,” Cere says. “It dyes every fabric it touches a bright white. Think about the parts of your body that would touch the cushions.”

“Oh.” Cal can feel his skin flushing.

BD giggles.

Cal continues scrubbing the deck. “Cleaning was never this complicated on Bracca.”

Chapter Text

Cal bounds aboard the Mantis, full of so much youthful energy Greez might actually be allergic to it. So much bouncing. Kid can’t keep still. Even BD-1 launches himself off Cal’s shoulders and joins Cere in the cockpit, babbling away about something. Greez figures if Cere can contain the droid, he can manage Cal. “If you’re still so energetic, maybe take a few laps outside and burn the rest of it off.” How did running, jumping, climbing and generally Jedi-ing his way across the galaxy not wear him out?

“Nah.” Cal joins Greez in the galley, peers at what’s cooking. “Got hungry. Forgot to take snacks. Besides, Cere wanted me back before dark, remember? Or was that you? I can’t remember.” He reaches for the slow cooker.

“What – no!” Greez whacks his hand away with his lucky spoon. “Don’t touch that, it’s not ready yet.”

“Ow!” Cal shakes out his hand, a large red mark marring the skin.

Greez panics. He didn’t really hurt him, did he? What if he accidentally breaks the kid’s hands? He’s skinny enough to snap over Greez’s knee as it is. Cal does seem shocked by the spoon-thumping, green eyes wide. Is he gonna cry? Why didn’t he move out of the way? Aren’t Jedi supposed to anticipate attacks like that? Has Greez broken Cal?

“Sorry,” Cal says before Greez can think of anything to say. “I didn’t know I couldn’t.”

Guilt going into hyperdrive, Greez drops the spoon and holds up his hand. “No, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done that. Old habits, I guess. We’ve been over this, Cal, everything in this kitchen is yours. The only thing is that dish ain’t ready yet, and if you take the lid off too soon, it’ll spoil everything.”

“Oh.” Cal doesn’t sound overly upset. In fact, he smiles sheepishly. “Guess I was thinking with my stomach.” It gives a perfectly timed grumble.

Glad to be past any issues, Greez points at the refresher. “Wash up. I’ll find you a snack ‘til dinner’s ready. I’ll explain why you can’t rush perfection.” He pats his slow cooker. “This rice dish is gonna blow your mind, but only if you’re patient.”

Nodding eagerly, promising he can be patient (Greez has yet to see proof of this), Cal bounces off down the hallway. He returns a little while later, hands so clean they sparkle. Greez hands over a spice cake, nudges a glass of milk in his direction to go with it (Cal needs the calcium), and proceeds to explain the finer points of great-grandma Pyloon’s rice supreme. When it’s ready an hour later, Cal wastes no time eating a full bowl. He comes up for air, scoops up another helping when Greez tells him he can, and inhales that too.

“You’re right, Greez,” Cal says after a third bowl. “It was definitely worth the wait.”

Greez is in such a good mood after that he even lets BD onto the table to scan everything until Cal calls to him and the pair are off again, throwing themselves into the mission, the nighttime darkness apparently no longer an issue. If Greez’s role in that mission is pilot and head chef, it works for him.

He takes a bowl into the cockpit where Cere is hard at work on the comms, doing everything she can to keep Cal safe.

“We’re making a pretty good team so far, right?” he asks her.

She looks up, a genuine smile on her face. It’s the most hopeful she’s looked in a while. “Yes, I think we do.”

Chapter Text

“Now, I don’t want anyone to panic,” Greez says. “But I think we’ve lost gravity.”

“The floating gave it away, Greez,” Cere points out.

Cal snorts. And then laughs. And then sends himself spinning. He grabs the bulkhead in the lounge and tries to contain himself. BD rockets himself to join Cal, giggling right along with him.

“You think this is funny, huh?” Greez demands. “When you start getting motion sick ‘cause your pathetic Human inner ear gets all confounded, you so much as belch wrong and I’m gonna turn off all the inertial dampeners next time I gotta do some corkscrews.”

“Oh, calm down Greez,” Cere comments from where she floats, somehow still pulling off the whole serene ex-Jedi vibe. “Something likely came loose when we landed on Zeffo the first time and it finally gave up on us.”

“I checked every system!” Greez protests.

“You missed one,” Cal says, turning a lazy somersault. It’s been ages since he experienced zero-g. He loves it already.

Although Greez might have a point about the motion sickness.

“We can leave you behind somewhere, just like that,” Greez growls. “You ain’t that special!”

Sighing, Cal pins himself in place again. “Want me to look? I’ve seen loads of anti-grav systems. I know my way around them.”

“You know your way around scrapping ‘em,” Greez says. “Leave my ship to me.” He floats back to the engine room with a surprising amount of grace. “I don’t wanna hear a single panel being removed!” he shouts back.

Cal lies down on the ceiling, just because he can. “I can fix stuff.”

Clamping himself to a panel beside Cal, BD-1 loyally (and loudly) announces how well Cal fixed his leg.

Not that Greez can understand BD.

“Don’t worry too much,” Cere says. “Greez is… particular… about the Mantis.”

“Particularly weird,” Cal mutters. He stretches out, joints popping. He’d really wanted to take a nap after sprinting up and down Zeffo. This wasn’t part of that plan. He yawns, wondering what it would be like to sleep in zero-g. Maybe he even drifts a little bit…

Until a boom, a bang, and a whole lot of swearing comes from the engine room. Cal cracks open an eye, looks to Cere. “Should I check on him?”

“I’ll go,” Cere says, floating by.

Shrugging, Cal sits up. BD dances around him, chatting animatedly about how the two of them would be able to fix the Mantis in no time. Cal grins. “We’ll just wait ‘til Greez comes begging.”

BD-1 buzzes with laughter.

It’s only five minutes before Greez floats back into the lounge. Doing his best Jedi-in-meditation imitation, Cal waits until Greez is at his most uncomfortable before flipping around to face him. “Oh, hey Greez, how’re the repairs coming?”

It takes all of Cal’s self-control not to completely lose it as Greez shuffle-floats his way closer. “Are you familiar with Latero Spaceworks gravity generators?”

Greez is so uncomfortable, so squirmy, Cal can’t help taking pity on him. “I saw a couple on Bracca, sure.”

“Think you can take a look at mine?”

Cal takes a big, slow, deep breath. “Okay.” He floats on by, BD-1 jetting in his wake. Then he stops himself, ducks under the doorway to the engine room, and looks back. “Hey, do we have any jogan fruit?”

Greez gives it some thought. “Uh, not right now. Why?”

“Oh, nothing, no reason,” Cal says. He resumes his drift back to the engine room, passing by Cere as she ducks into her cabin. “Just might need something to eat once I’ve fixed this. You know, for all the work I’m about to put it. Fixing your ship. All by myself.”

BD trills.

“Sorry, all by ourselves.”

Greez glares but says nothing.

Cal reaches the engine room. Five minutes later, he warns everyone to sit down and strap themselves in. Once he receives reassurance everyone’s secure, and feels BD grab onto his back, Cal reactivates the system.

Gravity kicks back in.

Cal’s inner ear takes a moment to adjust. Once it does, and he’s sure he won’t faceplant, he takes care to stroll into the lounge as nonchalantly as possible.

Greez launches something at him. Cal grabs it, sees it’s a packet of dried jogan fruit chips. “It’s the best I can do,” Greez says.

Cal grins. “Thanks!”

Chapter Text

Cere turns a documentary on. The Ten Most Beautiful Worlds in the Empire. Cal rolls his eyes at the title and grudgingly watches it. BD sits with him, careful not to knock over his mug of caf. Greez glances up every so often while he’s making dinner. They’ve already missed most of the episode as the narrator is currently finishing up describing the beauty and wonder of Coruscant, which apparently came in at number two.

“Coruscant?” Greez scoffs. “It’s a city. One big, giant city. What’s beautiful about that? I mean, aside from all the neon, that’s pretty neat. And I guess the sunsets aren’t bad. I do like that they have a weather control system in place. And so maybe the architecture is unique…” He gives his stew a stir with his good spoon. “And you can find a lot of fun the deeper you go into the undercity…”

“So, what you’re saying is it is one of the top ten most beautiful worlds?” Cal says, reaching for his caf.

“Fine, fine, that’s exactly what I’m saying! Not sure I’d rate it as high as number two though. That smells like propaganda to me.”

“Beauty is in the eye of the beholder, Greez,” Cal says.

“Hey, less philosophy outta you, kid!”

Cere hushes them. “Let’s find out what’s number one.”

BD beeps his agreement, zooming in to see better. Cal leans back, hands pressed to his mug. “My credits are on Alderaan. All those mountains. Amazing.”

“Kid, you don’t have any credits,” Greez calls from the galley.

“I do. They’re just hidden in my apartment on Bracca.” Cal puts on his most innocent smile. “Wanna go back and get ‘em?”

“No, thank you,” Greez says.

BD says he’d love to go to Bracca and scan everything he could set his photoreceptors on.

“We’d be there forever,” Cal says wistfully.

“Absolutely not!” Greez snaps.

“Don’t worry,” Cal says. He sips his caf. “We’re never going back.”

The documentary finally reveals the most beautiful place in the Empire.

“Naboo?” Greez scoffs. “Naboo’s not even that beautiful though.”

Cal stares at Greez. “That’s an unpopular opinion. Everyone says Naboo’s basically the most beautiful planet in the entire galaxy.”

“Then ‘everyone’ is wrong,” Greez fires back.

“No, you’re wrong. It is the most beautiful world,” Cere says. “I visited a lot of worlds when I was a Seeker, and I never found anywhere like Naboo. The lakes are stunning, like something out of a fairy tale. And the air is so fresh.” She sighs. “I’d love to go back. Sadly, visiting the homeworld of the Emperor himself seems extremely unwise.”

BD says he visited briefly with Master Cordova to undertake research in the world’s Royal Library. BD got lost following a library mouse, only to be discovered by an unimpressed guard who had carried him back to Master Cordova despite his demands that he unhand him.

“I never got to go,” Cal says. “Saw lots of holos about it though. I wanted to see the Queen’s Palace.”

“Sure, that all sounds great, but tell me this: how beautiful can a planet really be if it’s the birthplace of the Emperor? Sounds to me like there’s some nasty stuff going on under the surface is somewhere can create a person like that,” Greez shoots back. Cal, Cere and BD all stare at him. “Ah, see? You can’t answer that!”

“Because that’s not… it’s…” Cal stares at Cere, looking for help.

“It’s like saying nothing good come from Bracca because it’s full of scrap,” Cere says. BD whoops in agreement. “There’s nothing inherently wrong about Naboo simply because the Emperor came from there. The two facts are not linked at all.”

Greez keeps stirring his stew. “All I’m saying is Naboo puts up a good appearance for a world that inflicted Emperor Palpatine on us all. The people that voted that bastard in as a senator all those years ago have a lot to answer for.”

“How is it putting up an appearance if its forests, rivers and lakes that are beautiful?” Cal asks, waving a hand at the screen.

“Oh, like they can’t fake things like that,” Greez says. “Coruscant’s more beautiful than some river! At least they’re honest about how constructed it all is.” He tests his stew and immediately reaches for the salt. “And has everyone noticed how much Naboo is thriving while others fall to pieces? That’s blatant favouritism.”

“I feel like that’s also a separate problem,” Cal says. “Naboo is beautiful. I wish I could see if for myself.”

“Don’t buy into the propaganda, kid,” Greez says. “I’m tellin’ ya, Naboo’s overrated because someone didn’t want to lose their life by upsetting the Emperor if they suggested somewhere else.”

Cal looks to Cere who shakes her head.

“Alright Greez,” Cal says. “What is the best world in the Empire?”

Greez draws breath.

“And you can’t say Lateron!”

Cere and BD chuckle.

“That’s not what I was gonna say!” Greez protests.

Cere coughs.

“I wasn’t! I was gonna say, er, uh… Dac! Dac is beautiful. Cities on Dac are on top of the sea! That’s incredible.”

“Naboo has underwater cities,” Cere says, earning a giggle from BD.

“So? Who cares! Dac’s cities are huge and sprawling and floating on the ocean. Dac wins!”

Cal gives this a moment of consideration. “Nah. Naboo’s more varied. Naboo’s the best.”

“I agree,” Cere says.

BD just wants to go everywhere.

“We’ll try,” Cal says, patting him on the head.

Greez glares at Cere. “I thought Jedi were supposed to be peacekeepers. You can’t just agree with Cal like that! I am not at peace over here!”

“Dac is certainly unique and impressive,” Cere adds. She smiles at Greez. “Better?”

Cal snorts caf out his nose. BD squawks in disbelief that Humans are capable of such a thing. “Ow,” Cal moans. “That’s really hot!”

Smug, Greez nods. “Better.”

Chapter Text

“You know what this reminds me of?” Cal asks as he follows Cere and their tour group through the museum. “Field trips on Coruscant.”

Cere laughs. “You’re right. I do feel like a youngling again. How many times did you visit the botanical gardens?”

“Ugh, so many. There’s only so many times you can look at the same flowers. Not that I don't like flowers, but there were other places to go.”

Their guide takes them into the area they’re here for, an area dedicated to the Jedi. Cere listens with interest as they’re led to a display of lanterns, the most beautiful standing proud at the heart of the group.

The tour guide, an elderly Human male, makes sure everyone has a good view before he continues. “They say this lamp is the one used by the ancient Jedi Master who brought peace to our planet three centuries ago. She used it to guide our people through the darkest of times, the light never once wavering. Since then, our people have celebrated our emergence from strife during our Lantern Festival, and you can see many of the lanterns we have created over the centuries before you. Despite the times we live in, the Jedi’s lantern is considered this museum’s greatest artifact.”

Cere looks to the lamp. Tall and elegant, it is a gorgeous example of High Republic craftsmanship, burnished with gold designed to resemble sparks. Cere remembers hearing the tale of the Jedi Master who guided an entire people through a howling storm of evil as a youngling. And to see it here, now, is a true honor, and well worth the trip. She works her way through the tour group to get close. It truly is a marvel, and a testament to this world’s bravery to so brazenly display it when the Empire could arrive any day. She wishes they could’ve brought BD-1 to scan everything, but the museum’s liberal attitudes toward displaying Jedi artifacts did not extend to droids being allowed access. So, he’d gone into the city with Merrin and Greez to help find supplies.

Thankfully, Cere has another way to learn more. She glances over at Cal. Moving around their fellow museum visitors, he steps up to her. “This is why we’re here, right? What you wanted to know about?” he asks quietly.

“Yes. Let me know what you find.”

While Cere distracts the guide and group with questions, Cal brushes a hand over the lamp. He pulls back moments later and takes a loop of the other lanterns, none of which are particularly grand. Leaving him to it, Cere follows on with the tour group. Cal returns a short while later, merging seamlessly with the group. Somehow, Cere keeps her attention on the guide, even though her curiosity burns. The guide prattles on, Cere and Cal both nodding diplomatically along with the rest of the group. It takes nearly two hours for the tour to finish, and by the end of it, Cere is almost ready to combust. Cal, however, remains remarkably calm. Finally, they make their way out of the museum via the conveniently located gift shop.

“Well?” Cere asks Cal as he surveys the store’s offerings.

“Huh?” He looks up from the candy display. "Oh! Yeah, it’s a fake. Made on Coruscant ten years ago and put here by a relic hunter who stole the real one. I don’t think the staff know. Shall we tell them? Cere? Uh, Cere?”

Fake? They wasted hours of their lives for a fake? “Here.” She tosses Cal her wallet and heads outside. When he comes bounding up to her a short while later, he holds out a packet of sherbets stamped with the museum’s logo and makes Cere take one. “You ready to hear the rest of it now?” He doesn’t give her a chance to say no. “The guide was wrong. So was the thief. That lantern wasn’t Master Lorcan’s, though it was very pretty. Did you spot the really broken one that was a miniature of the big one? That was the real Lamp of The Way.” Popping a sherbet in his mouth, he grins. “I think there’s a lesson in here somewhere, Master Junda.”

She stares at him. “Cal, did Jaro Tapal ever teach you the story of the Jedi who boasted too much?”

“Why no, Cere, he did not. He did tell me about being a sore loser though.”

When they get back to the ship, she’s hiding his lightsaber.

Chapter Text

It is rare indeed for Merrin to be the first one awake. She is not accustomed to sleeping in, however she is not the early riser both Cere and Greez can be… or the insomniac Cal sometimes is. But this morning is different. Cere is still asleep in her bunk, and when Merrin ventures out into the living space, Greez, Cal and BD-1 are all absent. Sunlight shows through their lodging’s windows. They have been on Forest Moon 1138, an old Republic scientific research base, for a few weeks now, recuperating from Nur. They have taken over an old bunkhouse once used by scientists, their leftovers now property of Merrin and her new friends. Greez has claimed many new kitchen utensils, although he insists upon cooking on an open fire outside because he fears the old kitchen oven might explode if they attempt to use it. Merrin will be sad to leave when the time comes, the snowy world with its forest and nearby lake such a new experience for her. However, there is an entire galaxy out there, and she intends to see more of it as soon as possible.

Merrin is halfway through a cup of tea when Greez comes in, yawning and stretching. BD-1 is close behind him, hopping up onto the table and looking around. He beeps, a worried sound, but Merrin cannot understand him, and she apologises for this. BD-1 turns to Greez for help with a demanding trill.

“Oh, right, sorry, BD. Still half asleep I guess,” Greez says, flipping on a caf maker. “You seen Cal around?” he asks Merrin. “Pretty weird for him to be up before me.”

She stares at the pair. Has she seen Cal? They are the ones sharing a dorm room with him. “He was not here when I got up earlier.” And she has been up for half an hour now.

There is an immediate sense of alarm in the room. Greez hurries off to check the refresher, only to come back and announce he found it empty. Merrin knows this is not good, and she goes to get Cere. Thankfully, Cere is up and dressed. “Wherever he is, I can sense that he’s alright,” she says. “Although his presence is cloudy.” She finishes pulling on her boots. “We must find him.”

Cere, Merrin and BD-1 set up a search party while Greez agrees to stay behind and call if Cal returns by himself. He also starts preparing warm drinks and thick blankets. Given that Cal’s boots and poncho are all still in the base, he is likely to be very, very cold.

“Kid’s sleepwalking,” Greez surmises. “We never thought to set up an alert system here for that. Who knows how long he’s been gone. Ugh, I knew I shoulda put a bell on him.”

“He’s alive,” Cere says, holding out an arm so BD can hop onto her shoulders. Merrin has never understood this: BD has rockets and he can jump? He does not need to be coddled in such a way.

“Just hurry, okay? Maybe there’s a giant creature out there ready to eat him and then us.”

“Don’t worry, Greez,” Cere says. “We’ll find him.”

“Good. And I’ll find a bell we can tie to him while I wait.”

Clad in cold weather gear, Merrin shoulders a pack with extras for Cal. It is very cold outside, colder than it has been in days, meaning the snow has frozen so completely there are no footprints for them to follow. Merrin watches Cere close her eyes and reach for the Force. She had explained her old role as a Seeker, a Jedi who sought out Force-sensitive children. She is obviously a little rusty, and someone with training like Cal would be able to shield their presence. However, if they are right and Cal is sleepwalking, perhaps he will be unable to shield at all.

“My sisters would sometimes sleepwalk however I think it has a different meaning for Jedi. For a Nightsister to sleepwalk is to move through dreams or visions while the body remains in place,” Merrin tells Cere as they move into the woodland surrounding the base.

“That is true for many Jedi too, although I was not one of them,” Cere says. “However, Cal is the type to take it literally. He may eventually outgrow the habit. Adolescents frequently do. I think it’s less of a Jedi trait and more of a Cal one.”

“We can hope,” Merrin says. “And then he will have to learn to sleepwalk properly.”

“Perhaps,” Cere says with a faint smile.

Merrin can hear the distraction and worry in the older woman’s voice. “We will find him,” she says. “He will not have gone far.”

It is a surprisingly prescient comment as just a few minutes later BD squeals joyfully and launches himself off Cere’s shoulders. He rockets through the trees to where Cal stands with his back to them. Merrin wastes no time teleporting herself to Cal’s side, reaching him first. They are on the edge of a frozen lake, the far edge lost to a snowy fog. Cal stares into the fog, glassy eyed. BD catches up, launching himself onto Cal’s back where he immediately starts beeping loudly.

Cal takes a deep, thoughtful breath. “No, it’s fine. I’ll have it paid by Primeday. I always do.”

He starts to walk forward. Merrin intercepts him, bracing his shoulders with her hands. “Cal!” she shouts, the voices of her sisters joining her. “Wake up!”

He blinks slowly, feet slipping. “Wha –” Confused and surprised, he tips backward, but Cere’s there too, and together she and Merrin manage to drag him to a nearby log and sit him down. His bare feet are a terrible sight to behold, and now he’s awake, he’s shivering violently. “Where am I?” he asks through chattering teeth.

“Where you should not be,” Merrin tells him. She crouches down, pulls the pack off her back, and digs out the supplies. “This is not how you are supposed to sleepwalk, Cal Kestis.” She remains unimpressed by Jedi teachings.

Confused and helpless, he turns to Cere for help. Cere shrugs. “She’s not wrong.”

BD-1 beeps and buzzes, throwing himself at Cal. Merrin wishes she understood him better, as whatever he says makes Cal chuckle and hug his friend close. “Thanks, BD. You are warm.”

“How are you feeling?” Cere asks as Merrin wrestles a pair of thick socks onto Cal’s torn up feet. They can fix it all back at the base.

Cal yawns. “Sleepy,” he says. His half-lidded eyes make him look like he has been on the swamp nectar. Resting his head on BD’s is not helping him to look more awake. He yawns again and BD jabs him. “Stop. I’m awake.”

Merrin looks to Cere who shakes her head. They need to keep him awake if they are going to make it back to the base quickly. “What dream did you walk in?” she asks him.

“I didn’t walk in a dream,” he mumbles. He’s tilting to one side, well on his way to drifting off again.

“You said you will have ‘it’ paid off by Primeday. What is ‘it’?” Merrin asks.

Cal doesn’t answer.

Cere gives BD a nod, and BD whistles gleefully as he jabs his scomp link into Cal’s thigh and shocks him. Gently. Cal still leaps so high off the log he nearly tips backward. “Ow!” he gasps. “What was that for?”

“Good work, BD,” Merrin says, throwing a woollen poncho over Cal’s head. “He is awake.”

Cal grumbles the whole way back to the base, most of it slurred nonsense because he is hypothermic and half asleep. Merrin leads the way while Cere asks him every question she can think of to keep him awake. Cal is grumpy about it, so BD sits on his shoulder, electricity crackling every time he even looks like he might fall asleep.

When they reach the base, Greez is there with tea for all, warm blankets and a medkit. Stepping back, Merrin watches as Cal lets the others fuss over him. Or is fussed over whether he likes it or not. Sometimes it is hard to tell, especially when Cal’s head is already tipped back and he is dozing again. She smiles at the sight of him, and of BD-1 nestling down under the blankets thrown over Cal. Scourge of the Empire indeed. Merrin has not been with these people long, but already she knows they will always be a part of her life.

…although maybe she really should teach Cal how to properly sleepwalk before they have a repeat of this morning’s adventure.

Blanketed, bandaged and fed, Cal pats the couch beside him. Merrin sits at his side. “Thanks for coming to find me,” he says.

“You are welcome,” she says, accepting another cup of tea from Greez. “But do not make a habit of it.”

Cal chuckles. “I’ll try.”

Chapter Text

Cere will never say it to Cal, but it is surreal watching him sink into an echo. Maybe plummet would be a better word. It’s not the little ones that consume him; those he can tune into the same way he listens to music while someone else is talking to him. No, it’s the big ones that temporarily erase his grasp on the present, his own existence and perceptions temporarily overwritten.

And it’s Cere’s fault. She didn’t think. He’s still recovering from Nur, unable to join her and Merrin on Dathomir. Merrin thought it would be as good a place as any to lay low for a while. With Cal laid up and Cere reconnecting to the Force, she’d decided to explore the Zeffo tomb for herself. She’d found an old relic – a tiny depiction of the Zeffo sage Kujet – and taken it back to the ship. She’d handed it to Cal and lost him immediately. Thankfully he’d been sat in the lounge, reading from a datapad.

At least Cere caught the datapad before it hit the ground.

It’s been an entire minute now, and Cal shows no signs of emerging. BD-1 looks up at Cere, whimpering with concern. If BD’s worried, maybe Cere should be too. BD’s been at Cal’s side for more of these than anyone else, so he knows best.

And then Cal cries out in a language Cere doesn’t know and returns to the present with an awful howl of pain. The artifact falls from his hand. He falls forward, sweating, shuddering and dry retching. Cere doesn’t risk touching him, not yet. Instead, she projects a sense of peace and calm she doesn’t entirely feel.

He grunts, hand coming up to protect his chest. He’s too distracted, caught between two time periods, to shield, and his physical pain rings out for Cere to catch and deflect.

“Hold on,” she tells him, getting to her feet. “I’ll get you something for that.”

Cere hurries to the med kit and digs out one of their better painkillers. Cal’s told her before that the stronger the echo, the worse the backlash. He’s in enough pain already; he doesn’t need to endure more.

When she turns back to the lounge, Cal is still hunched over, but he now has one hand resting on BD’s head. He’s breathing slowly and carefully, eyes closed, lips pressed together. He’s deathly pale, a sheen of sweat clinging to him.

“Cal?” Cere calls quietly.

“Mmm, here,” he murmurs.

“I’m going to give you a painkiller.” It is not optional.

He hums in agreement and allows Cere to deliver the hypo. It gets to work quickly, and Cal is soon on his feet, swaying, and determinedly aiming himself at the engine room. His shielding, while not great, is better than before, but Cere knows him well enough now to know he is overwhelmed and upset.

“I’m so sorry,” she says.

“It’s fine,” he says in a tone that says it definitely isn’t. Not that he’s angry with her. No, it’s that whatever he saw left him completely horrified. He presses a hand to his head, pushing his hair back. “I’m fine.”

“You’re a fine liar,” Cere says gently. She stands, hovering nearby in case his legs give out. “Talk to me, Cal. What did you see?” She doesn’t want him to linger on something nightmarish.

“No.” His voice cracks. She watches him massage his forehead, hears the tension in his voice. “Not now.”

“Okay,” she says, keeping her voice low. “BD, go on ahead and turn off all the lights.”

BD takes off and Cal slowly ambles after him. Once he’s gone, Cere closes the door to the back half of the ship, then crouches down and plucks the offending object off the ground. She hears footsteps and sees Greez and Merrin boarding the ship. Cere hushes them before they can loudly announce whatever explorations they got up to, even though she’s curious to know how well Greez got over his fear of the entire planet.

“What’s wrong?” Greez asks.

Cere puts the tiny Zeffo statuette on the table.

Greez gets it immediately. “Oh no.”

Merrin takes slightly longer. “He had a vision,” she surmises.

“An echo, yes,” Cere says. “It was not a good one.”

They all resolve to keep quiet. Dathomir is not a loud place, not anymore, and the sun is well on its way to setting when Cere senses Cal awakening. She waits until she’s sure he’s awake and comfortable, then heads to the engine room and knocks gently on the doorframe. Cal looks over at her, as does BD, who’s sat at Cal’s side. He’s not as pale as before, and the tension and pain has faded.

“How are you feeling?” she asks.

“Better,” he says. “Sorry. With a migraine like that I had to be in a dark room, otherwise it would’ve been messy.”

“It’s fine,” Cere says. “I’m sorry for not thinking it through before handing you the statuette.”

“Don’t worry,” Cal says. “It’s not the first or the last time that’s gonna happen.” He takes a deep breath and pulls himself into a seated position. Cere takes it as her cue to join him on his bed, placing her hand between them. He rests his over it, squeezing back when she closes her fingers around his. “It was a memento carved by a loved one, held by someone desperately trying to resist Kujet’s will. Kujet was mad with power, consumed with paranoia, saw everyone and everything as a threat to his reign. The Zeffonian who carved it held it as they died, smothered and suffocated by Kujet. They… they were assaulted, their mind torn to shreds by hallucinations as their lungs filled with ash.” He holds Cere’s hand tighter as his voice quivers. “And it all felt like it happened to me.”

He doesn’t need her to tell him it didn’t, he’s safe, Kujet can’t hurt him now. BD beeps softly, planting himself on Cal’s lap. Cal smiles at his friend, then leans over, head resting on Cere’s shoulder. “I’m okay now,” he says.

“It’s alright if you aren’t,” Cere replies.

“I am,” Cal says with a certainty spoiled by a yawn. “Ow.” He presses a hand to his chest. “This is getting old,” he grumbles. “I should meditate,” he mumbles through another yawn.

Cere gives his hair a ruffle. “Alright,” she says. “Take as long as you need. And BD?”

BD beeps eagerly.

“Come and get me if Cal falls asleep again.”

Chuckling in his funny, buzzy way, BD promises to do exactly that.

“Rude.” Cal sits up and releases her hand. “Cere? It wasn’t your fault. I’m always going to sense echoes. That’s just the way I am.”

“I know,” she says, standing. “And you know you can always talk to me about any of them. You don’t need to keep it all in anymore.”

“Thanks, Cere.”

And with that, Cere leaves him to meditate.

Chapter Text

One of the benefits of having one lightsaber that turns into two is Cal can train with Cere. Naturally he returns Cere’s half to her for which she is clearly grateful – and nostalgic. He doesn’t need to tell her she’s leaving echoes all over it; she knows him well enough by now.

He spares her blushes by not telling Greez or Merrin. BD knows, but that’s because BD can be totally trusted.

Cere’s style is very different to Master Tapal’s, mostly on account of her only wielding one blade. He can tell she’s holding back initially, finding herself again in the forms and exercises that had once been second nature. Cal’s under no illusion either – if she really put her mind to it, she’d wipe the floor with him. She has decades of training and combat under her belt. Cal has a technique cobbled together from seven(ish) years of training from the age of five, Master Tapal’s echoes, several months of real combat (and that includes what he did during the Clone Wars) and a whole lot of stubborn ‘hack it and see if it works’ determination. His DIY skills are not much compared to the honed technique of a Jedi Master.

However, Cere’s skills are not completely unknown to Cal. Sometimes he can match her blow for blow because Trilla never shook off her master’s teachings. Cere’s not as flashy as Trilla, but teacher and student are not always dissimilar.

…And then Cere will do something completely unexpected where Trilla would show-off, and the next thing Cal knows, he’s on the defensive, being pushed back and back and okay yeah, Cere really is a Jedi Master and Cal definitely, definitely isn’t.

Anytime they’re somewhere sufficiently isolated, they spar. They’re currently on a moon orbiting a mining world, training before breakfast, with BD-1 watching on from the ship’s ramp. Cere is a good teacher, open to creativity and improvisation in a way that Master Tapal was not.

“How did you keep up your skills while you were on Bracca?” Cere asks as they run through a series of Form I exercises. The idea is to disarm but not injure the other. It’s how they start every time, and Cal knows going back to childhood basics is helping him.  

“I didn’t, not really. It would have looked pretty suspicious if I practiced my forms,” Cal says, skipping the part where most of the time he was too damn tired after work for any form of training. “Most of what I know I either remembered from training, remembered watching at the Temple, pulled out of an echo, or figured it might work.” Figured it might, hoped it might, what’s the difference? He dodges Cere’s slash for his hilt, sliding around her and attacking from behind. She blocks with ease. “Maybe I should create a new form, call it ‘Do Whatever Works’.”

“It’s worked well so far, but we can tidy it up,” Cere says. “Some of your moves leave you far too open. It might work on a stunned or weaker opponent, but a Force-wielder? Absolutely not.”

It’s a sad fact of life that, despite training with a Jedi Master, the focus of Cal’s training had always been defence against blasters and long-range weapons. The Jedi didn’t anticipate facing other lightsaber wielders regularly outside of contests in the dojo. Cal remembers Master Tapal speaking in those final days about how the Force felt clouded, shallow. Cal was simply too young and inexperienced to –

“Focus,” Cere calls.

She forces him back into the moment with an arcing upward swing. Cal slides back, reaching for the Force to get a read on her movements. Cere launches into a series of precision stabs, aimed at all the places she’d need to hit to disarm him. Tempting though it is to unleash a few Ataru moves and launch himself over her head, the point of training is to master one form before using another. Cal limits himself to dodges, parries and the occasional attack that Cere dodges and parries even more effectively. He can sense her urge to let loose too, really show what she can do, if Cal will just give her the right opening. Unfortunately for her, Cal was raised by Master Tapal to uphold the strictest of self-discipline, meaning if they are training Form I with all its faults, they are going to stick to Form I. 

And maybe that’s it. Maybe that’s the key to this. Sheer, dogged persistence. It’s taken him this far, and he’s got youth on his side. Cere’s always complaining about her knees. Cal has no such problems…

…unless his wrist is playing up.

Alright. Today’s the day. He’s winning this.

Cal sinks into the Force, feels it flow through him. He feels his emotions rising, demanding victory. It is Master Tapal’s voice that rises to challenge him.

“Emotion – passion – is good in battle when it is in service of a noble intention, Padawan, but when that emotion becomes pride, becomes desperation to win or anger at the thought of losing, that is when you risk losing to yourself long before your opponent lands a single blow.”

Calm suffuses Cal, body falling into rhythms learned in earliest childhood. His blade’s voice sings out as he defends himself, blow for blow, until at last, there it is, a flicker of creativity, and then his body weaves itself under Cere’s Makashi blow and his hilt crashes into hers, knocking it to the ground.

“And there is the lesson,” Cere says, calling the lightsaber back to her hand. “Forms exist for a reason, and sometimes the oldest ways do work the best.”

BD-1 whoops from the ship’s ramp. Cal turns to him, unable to wipe the smile off his face. “I did it!”

Cere’s amusement doesn’t quite cover her competitiveness. “How about best two out of three?”

Before they can get started, Greez clomps down the ramp. “I’ve got breakfast ready and I ain’t taking ‘in a minute’ for an answer. You two have been at it for hours, and there’s only so long someone can listen to all the buzzing and swooshing before their sanity is threatened.”

Merrin appears at his side. “I agree,” she says through her breakfast roll. “It is too loud.”

Before he can argue, Cal’s stomach gives a loud gurgle. He sighs, takes back the other half of his lightsaber from Cere, and agrees that maybe breakfast would be a good idea. BD-1 hurries over and tells him he did a great job.

“Thanks, buddy.” Cal pats him on the head.

Cere follows him aboard the Mantis. “You’re definitely learning,” she says. “But tomorrow, we move onto a new style. And maybe change the rules.”

“Feeling creatively stifled, Cere?” Cal teases.

“It would appear so. Don’t get cocky yet, Cal. I have a few tricks up my sleeve.”

“Who’s getting cocky?” Cal asks as he pours himself a mug of caf. “That was my first win in fifteen sessions. You’re probably having a bad day.”

“I am not having a bad day,” Cere says.

“Oh, so I’m just better at Form I than you.”

“We can go again, Cal. Any time. You just say the word.”

“Hmmm, sounds like someone’s emotions are getting the better of them. Perhaps meditation would be wise.”

Cal races back off the ship before Cere can launch a tray of breakfast rolls at him.

Chapter Text

Cal wakes up from a nap. Oops, fell asleep on the couch again. He’s so dozy, so comfy, maybe he’ll drift off again and…

Wait.

Something feels different about his head. He stirs, brushing the blanket pulled up to his chin.

“Shhh. Go back to sleep.” It’s Merrin. She must be sitting next to his head. “I am not finished yet.”

Her fingers are in his hair, brushing through and separating small handfuls into trios. The feeling is familiar, a distant memory from so long ago. He feels himself relaxing. “Why’re you braiding my hair?” he asks, although it sounds more like “whyybraidnmuhheyh?”

Somehow, Merrin interprets his mushy words. “It is shiny. And pretty.”

“S'not.”

“Oh, yes, it is.” There’s a gentle tug as she deftly braids. “Fiery. Like my magicks.”

“S'green.”

“Hush, Cal. Let me finish.”

Cal zones out, drifting into memories of Master Tapal patiently plaiting his braid, tying it off with the finest of thread. It never seemed possible for someone with such huge hands, and yet Master Tapal managed it every time. Sometimes he would tug on it to get Cal’s attention. Other times, if he couldn’t grab the hood of Cal’s robes fast enough, he’d grab Cal’s braid instead, and that never failed to bring Cal to a sudden and complete halt - usually before he wandered into traffic in the Brave’s landing bay. He smiles at the memories, at the warmth, the tradition, the simplicity.

Merrin probably isn’t going in for simplicity. Maybe he’ll look like Cere did in that echo he picked up from Trilla’s lightsaber. She looked so awesome with her hair like that. Could he grow his hair out that long? His pictures it - autumn reds, oranges and golds trailing all the way down his back, tied in intricate braids…

…who is he kidding? He’d sling it back in a ponytail and be done with it.

He giggles to himself.

“You are strange, Cal,” Merrin tells him.

She has no idea.

A few minutes later, Merrin’s fingers pull away. “Done. You may wake up. BD? You can come and look now.”

Familiar feet tippy-tappy their way over. BD gives a long, slow beep of awe, and then the light of his scanner shines through Cal’s eyelids.

Pretty, BD declares.

“I am not pretty,” Cal grumbles.

“You are. You are a pretty princess,” Merrin says. “BD, quick, make a recording.”

“Excuse you, I’m no princess, I am a queen,” Cal corrects.

“Forgive us, Your Majesty,” Merrin says.

Curiosity wins and he opens his eyes, sits, frees his hands from the blanket, and explores his head. What he finds is a series of small, tight braids encircling his head - much like a crown. He leans forward and catches a glimpse of his reflection on the table. “Huh.”

“You like it?” Merrin asks. “Cere explained to me how to do it, but it is easier to practice on somebody else.”

“I do like it,” Cal says. “It’s really practical. Keeps it out of my eyes, too.”

The hatch opens. Cere and Greez board the ship, both carrying several grocery bags. Cere clocks Cal first, nodding in approval. Greez does a doubletake, puts down his bags, and moves in for a closer inspection.

“Well?” Cal asks, moving his head to really show it off.

“I love it!” Greez gushes. “I mean I really love it. I want it. I want that style right now.”

“When you have more hair, I will teach you how,” Merrin says.

He grins. “It’s a deal. You heard it here, folks, Greezy is officially growing his hair out.”

Chapter Text

With Greez busy running maintenance checks on the engine, and Cal, BD and Merrin off exploring, Cere finds herself with a rare moment to enjoy a quiet ship, a cup of tea and a good holobook. And she’s had a bookmark in this one - a detailed history of the hallikset and music theory – for years. She started reading it during the war and never had a chance to finish.

She makes it halfway through before footsteps and a cloud of worry disrupt her focus.

“Cere.”

She looks up from her book and sees Merrin staring down at her, worry clouding her expression. “What’s wrong?”

Merrin shakes her head. “It’s Cal. In the ruins. I don’t… He won’t speak but… I think he needs you.”

“Is he hurt?”

“Not physically.”

“An echo,” Cere surmises.

Merrin nods. “He won’t tell me what it is.”

“Leave it to me. And tell Greez he might want to clear out the engine room for a while, just in case.”

“He will immediately begin baking Cal those spice cakes he likes,” Merrin says as she heads in Greez’s direction.

Cere leaves the datapad on the table and heads outside into a beautiful, sunny day. The temperature is just right, the air alive with the freshly blooming flowers, sharpened by sea salt. The old Jedi temple they came to explore is right on the beach. It’s so idyllic, Cere can’t believe the Empire hasn’t set up a retreat here for the higher ups. She imagines their absence is only because they’re too far from popular shipping lanes, and there are no military benefits to the location.

Not yet anyway.

The Force guides her to Cal no matter how intently he shields. Once a Seeker, always a Seeker. His aura, shrouded though it is, simmers with white hot pain. Worry spiking, Cere picks up the pace and finds Cal deep inside the temple, beyond winding halls of meditation chambers, bedrooms, refectories, even an empty library, in an oculus hall, bathed in the sunlight pouring through the open ceiling. BD looks up at him, slumped and sorry. He sees Cere and hurries over to her, feet tip-tapping over the marble floor. He clambers onto her back, beeping quietly. She gives the little droid a pat on the head. She’s here, she’ll help. The oculus hall is huge. Once, it would have housed Jedi seeking peace and wisdom. Now, the painstaking marble carvings are hopelessly stained, the chamber home to countless bird species.

Birds, and a small pile Jedi robes at Cal’s feet, weathered beyond use.

“Merrin sent you.” Cal’s voice tremors.

“She did. She’s worried about you.” And so is Cere. Cal won’t even turn to look at her.

“Children,” Cal tells her from where he stands over the pile. His voice strains, thick with tears. “Left here, long ago. Not because of the purge. There was a disaster on a nearby world. The masters went to help, left their children behind, thinking they would be back within a day or two. They never returned. And these children, left alone, starved. They didn’t know what to do, didn’t understand why they were abandoned here.” He presses both hands to his head, bright hair spilling over pale fingers. “Everything I touch, all I ever see is misery and suffering. I’m so sick of it.” His head tilts back, tear-stained cheeks catching the sunlight. “Why is the galaxy so full of pain? Why can’t I stop it?”

BD hops down from Cere’s back and rushes to Cal, waiting for him to crouch down. Cal doesn’t so much crouch as collapse, sobbing.

“I’m so sorry,” Cere says. She’d suggested they check this world out not only for the Jedi heritage to be found here, but also to give them all a break. She knows he’s worked on his psychometry, found ways of managing it, and yet the fact remains that the past hurts. Crouching beside him, she places a hand on his shoulder. “I’m here.”

To her surprise, he falls against her. She wraps her arms around him, feels his body trembling with his tears. He’s not shielding her from it now. It buffets her, and it's only thanks to her own shields that she doesn’t crumple along with him.

She waits for him to cry it out. BD hops on to Cal’s back and presses against him, a tiny droid hug. Slowly, steadily, Cal calms.

“Release the memory,” Cere says. “Let it go now.”

“For once, I wish… I want…” But whatever it is he wants, Cal doesn’t say. Instead, he does something he’s getting frighteningly good at – packing up his feelings and putting them away, out of sight and unreachable. He pulls back, wipes a hand over his face, and musters up a faint smile. “Thanks, Cere. I’m sorry I worried you.”

“No need to be sorry,” she says, standing and holding out a hand. He takes it, letting her help him to his feet. “You’re allowed to worry me.”

His smile is a little brighter. “Did you hear that, BD? I got permission to worry Cere.”

BD whoops.

“Permission can be revoked, you know,” Cere says, nudging Cal.

Chapter Text

The sun shines outside, flowers bloom, Greez has freshly baked bread cooling in the galley and all is calm and quiet aboard the ship. The others have ventured into a nearby market, leaving Greez with the whole ship to himself. He’s set the navicomp to run maintenance routines, the deck is sparking from his intense scrubbing, he baked the aforementioned bread (mostly to get rid of the odour of whatever the heck Cal tracked in from their last stop on an honest-to-great-grandma swamp planet), and the refresher hasn’t been that tidy since the day the ship left the production line.

All in all, Greez has had a very productive day while the others go gallivanting, with their ‘the Force is calling me’ and ‘I wish to see a new world’ and scanning, always scanning. It’s the first time in too long Greez has been able to play his own music on the sound system too. Apparently Latero lounge funk is nauseating for Humans. And Greez means that literally – both Cere and Cal get all woozy and pale if he tries playing it. It also makes Merrin giggle uncontrollably in a genuinely dangerous to her health kind of way. Maybe the inner ear is overly sensitive when you get too tall. Either that or they all have terrible taste in music (which, given some of the sounds that come from Cal’s headphones, seems likely).

Greez makes himself a cup of caf and prepares to sit down, maybe catch a pod race, when he hears familiar voices approaching. He switches off his music and watches BD lead the way. That’s unusual. He rarely puts his own feet on the ground unless…

Greez looks up. Cal is on his feet, conscious and limping. Cere and Merrin follow, Merrin looking extremely pleased with herself while Cere looks like she’s ready to catch Cal at a moment’s notice.

“What happened?” Greez asks.

“Cal did not look where he was going,” Merrin says. “He tripped over a market stall.”

“And did such a great job putting it back together the stall owner wasn’t even mad at me!” Cal flops down onto the couch. Good thing Greez didn’t get around to cleaning that off today. He’s covered in soil. “And I was looking where I was going. I just got distracted. Totally different problem.”

“Yes, you see something shiny, and all other thoughts fall out of your head,” Merrin says.

“Nah, that’s BD, right, buddy?”

BD cackles and dashes off to scan the terrarium.

“Take your boot off,” Cere says.

“I twisted it, Cere, it’s nothing.”

“Take your boot off. Greez, grab me the medscanner.”

Greez never, ever, messes with Cere when she’s using this tone of voice. Cal, on the other hand, is not that wise.

“I twisted my ankle. Some ice, a few stretches, it’ll be fine.”

“And how are you going to apply the ice with the boot on? Take it off. Now.”

Merrin snorts. Cal levels a glare at her. She heads off into her and Cere’s cabin. Greez hands over the scanner to Cere. He gives Cal a nudge. “There’s no need to turn this into a fight,” he whispers.

It isn’t much of a flashpoint, but it’s one nonetheless and despite all this time together, no one has managed to iron out Cal’s ‘I’ll work through anything’ mentality. On top of that, he’s a young man who clearly wants to spread his wings. Greez gets it, he really does, but sometimes Cal needs a reminder he isn’t immortal. No, it’s simpler than that. Sometimes, he needs reminders that he doesn’t need to be in pain constantly.

With much eye-rolling and amateur dramatics, Cal reaches for his boot. He pulls, and Greez watches him literally go several shades paler. A funny gasp emerges from him, and he grabs the couch cushions, knuckles bleaching white. Greez hears Cere take a breath, ready to lecture, and reaches over to whack her on the arm. The woman really needs to know when to push and when to shut up.

It’s slow and painful (literally for Cal based on how much he’s sweating), but the boot comes off.

Greez can’t help himself. “That looks broken.”

Cal is silent as Cere scans the obvious problem. Greez grabs an icepack, ready to put on the injury the moment they have confirmation.

“Yes,” Cere says. “Broken. It’s a hairline fracture, so a bone knitter and a few days of rest will fix it right up.” She reaches into the medkit once more and pulls out said knitter. Definitely an essential purchase, one they’d made not long after meeting Cal.

Head shaking, Cal tries to pull away. “I don’t need to rest it, I can manage.”

Certain he knows why Cal thinks he can ‘manage’, Greez slaps the icepack down just hard enough to catch Cal, who hisses and levels a glare at him. “You are resting it. Consider the rest of us at your beck and call.”

Cal pauses, turning the thought around. “Everyone?”

Greez nods.

“Merrin!” Cal bellows at the top of his lungs. “You’re at my beck and call! Grab me a drink, please!”

Chapter Text

Eyes roaming the snowy scene ahead of them, Merrin does her best to mirror Cere and contain her panic, as though they haven’t just watched an avalanche crush an entire village with their friends still inside it. The last thing she saw was Cal, arms thrown out, the Force gathering. She felt the avalanche slow, but not enough to keep them from being swallowed whole. “I don’t see him,” she shouts over the snowstorm. “I don’t see any of them.”

“Neither do I,” Cere says. She closes her eyes, breathing steadying. “They’re alive.”

It takes all Merrin’s self-control to not demand more information from Cere. That, and the knowledge that there are a lot of frightened people gathered behind them, people she refuses to scare further when they may have lost loved ones to the snow and ice. Instead, she stays quiet, feeling the Force move around Cere in ways not accessible to a Nightsister.

Cere’s eyes spring open. She points. “There. Where the clinic used to be.”

Merrin grabs her hand. “Let’s go.”

“Wait.” Cere pauses for a moment to face the other villagers. “Get to higher ground. There’s no way to tell if another avalanche might hit.”

The elder takes control of their people, leading everyone to a nearby cliff. Cere gives Merrin a nod, and they’re standing atop the ruined village a heartbeat later. Merrin feels the Force beneath her, a great hand pushing up with waning strength. She summons her magick, lets its flames melt the snow. Cere reaches down and pulls out Greez, who wastes no time turning back and helping her free the others.

Merrin looks up, sees more snow headed their way. She races forward, moving so slowly, half-blinded by the storm, but her magick is as rapid as her thinking, a wall of fire blocking its onward path. She puts more strength into it, but nature can only be held back for so long, and already she is forced to retreat, centimeter by centimeter.

“Everyone’s out, Merrin!” Cere bellows. “Move!”

She teleports back to the others and finds the villagers, Cere, Greez, Cal and BD wading through waist-deep snow. Cere pulls Cal onward. Greez, being smaller, struggles more, and Merrin grabs him and teleports them both back to the safety of the cliff where the rest of the villagers wait. She turns to go back to help the others, but they’re already scrambling to safety. Cal rolls onto the cliff, nudged a little further from the edge with a few head bumps from BD. He flops onto his side, panting for breath, glassy eyed with exhaustion. Cere crouches down, squeezes his shoulder, and then looks up to the villagers. “Is everyone alright?”

There is a collective yes (if Merrin ignores Greez’s gagging at her side). The elder steps forward. “We should seek shelter in the caves,” they say. “Can he walk?” They mean Cal.

Cere shakes her head. The elder calls to a large, practically Wookie-sized Human male and he scoops up Cal and unceremoniously throws him over his shoulder. BD hops onto Cere’s shoulders. The elder leads the entire group into the nearby caves for shelter.

“Are you done throwing up?” Merrin asks Greez, her hand on his back as she leads him on. If they lose sight of the others in this weather, they might never find the caves.

“Ugh, I hope so,” Greez says, pushing through the snowstorm. “But I’m alive, and I’m very grateful to you and Cal for helping keep me that way, so no more complaining from me.”

In the cave, villagers unpack emergency supplies, including heaters and blankets. Merrin and Greez find Cere, Cal and BD-1 near one of these heaters, Cal’s head cushioned on Cere’s lap, tucked under a blanket, BD sticking close.

“Wore himself out huh?” Greez says, sitting down and resting a hand on Cal’s head. “So much for taking it easy after Nur.”

Cere only manages the faintest of smiles. “Perhaps the next place we stop at should be devoid of all weather.”

“I know a few merchant barges that will serve our needs,” Greez says, Cal not stirring as he runs his hair through his fingers. “He kept that snow off our heads until Merrin melted it. I don’t think he knew he could do it until he did.” He looks to Merrin. “You did good to get us out.”

Merrin sits down too. “It was a team effort.”

Cere reaches over, her hand resting atop Merrin’s. “You gave us enough time to get everyone out.”

Blushing and smiling, Merrin says, “I am happy to help.”

The villagers settle into groups. A short while later a few come over and provide bowls of simple soup. The scent of warm food rouses Cal, who sits up and eats with minimal conversation. He blinks and grunts in response to any questions. He does at least seem glad the villagers are all alive.

“I have decided I do not like snow,” Merrin tells him.

He glances at her, yawning massively. “Me neither.”

Chapter Text

A warm breeze, a blue sky speckled with clouds, grass beneath them, and not an Imperial in sight. It is a rare perfect day. The Mantis’ engines cool behind them, campsite ready for the night ahead. Tents constructed, firepit built, Cal flops onto his back and stares at the sky, imagination running free. BD lands on his stomach, manoeuvres himself onto his back, and does the same – kicking his legs a little...

Until he sits up, runs a scan, flops down once more and confirms there are no Cal-eating bugs nearby.

“Thanks, BD, that’s good to know.”

Footsteps approach a short while later. “Are you asleep?” Merrin asks.

“I don’t sleep with my eyes open,” Cal tells her.

“Yes, you do. You sleepwalk with your eyes open.”

Cal throttles a sigh before it escapes. “I’m cloud watching,” he says instead.

Merrin tilts her head up to the sky. “Why?”

“Because that’s what you do on days like today. Stare at the clouds and tell people what they look like.”

But don’t stare at the sun, BD advises. And maybe go inside before anyone gets sunburned.

“They look like clouds.” Merrin is not impressed.

Cal points. “That one, there. Looks like a Zeffo’s head.”

A decapitated one, BD muses.

Cal snorts. He had inadvertently beheaded more than one Zeffo statue in his time. Sometimes they got in the way during a fight, other times Cal simply tripped and smash! Shattered ancient artifact. Probably priceless too.

“Oh, I see, you look at the clouds and decide the look like other things.” Merrin joins Cal. “We did this on Dathomir, but not with clouds.”

“What did you do it with?”

“The swirls and bubbles in our potions.” She points. “That, there. A cauldron.”

Cal looks at the cloud. “Or a one-eared tooka.”

“Perhaps there is a spell I could learn that would allow me to shape the clouds,” Merrin says.

Cal rolls his head to look at her. Merrin keeps her gaze firmly on the sky. “Like controlling the weather?” he asks.

“Yes, I suppose so.”

BD thinks that sounds great, a real credit maker. Cal translates.

“Perhaps. I do not know of any such magick, but there is much I do not know.”

“That’s okay,” Cal says, looking to the sky once more. “There’s loads of Jedi stuff I don’t know either. Maybe one of them could control the weather. The Force is in everything. Maybe between us we can find a way to change the shapes of clouds.”

“For fun and profit?”

“Sure, if it’s on a world where the Empire won’t immediately hunt us down and kill us.”

“They spoil everything,” Merrin says. She points again. “There. That one is Greez.”

Following Merrin’s finger, Cal spots the cloud and bursts out laughing. “It really is him!”

“I heard my name!” Greez calls from where he’s prepping for lunch.

“You are in the clouds, Greez,” Merrin says.

“I’m in the what? Are you high? Cere, the kids are high again!”

“Look, Greez, right there.” Cal points. “That cloud. It’s you!”

Greez puts down the knife and looks. “That’s not me!”

Cere, sat in a chair, a recently rescued Jedi tome in her hands, leans back. “There is a definite resemblance.” She puts the book away and joins Cal, Merrin and BD. “Hmm, that one over there looks like the Mantis.”

“What? I gotta see this.” Greez bustles over, drops to the grass, and looks up. “Oh yeah! Even this planet recognises engineering brilliance when it flies through the skies and lands upon the surface.”

Their laughter fills the warm air.

Chapter Text

The ceiling that greets Cal when he opens his eyes in not the Mantis. Rocky. Slightly drippy. Sandy beneath him. Sea salt in the air. Is he at the beach? All things considered, Cal has definitely been in worse situations. Like way worse. Like, like... like the actual worst. Right? He's been in worse situations, hasn't he?

BD beeps a dubious affirmative. Then he asks which Cal prefers - being trapped under the ocean on Nur, or being stuck in this cave?

"Secret answer 3: both suck." Cal giggles.

BD scuttles away, telling someone else Cal is awake and –

"My words are not slurring!"

"Yes, Cal, they are. You have a head injury."

"Do not!"

"Do too."

He'll show her. "Hey. Hey, Merrin?"

Merrin takes a deep breath from somewhere nearby. "Yes?"

"Could a head injury guy ask you this? Would you rather fight a hundred BD-sized rancors, or a rancor-sized BD?"

Merrin whispers something in a language Cal doesn't speak. It doesn't sound like an answer.

"It's a good question!"

"It is a question that suggests you have damaged your brain permanently."

Cal snorts. And pauses. "Is that why I can taste blood?"

"Do you remember being knocked out?"

Cal gives this a good ponder. "No," he eventually decides.

Merrin sighs. "What do you remember?"

"Uuuuum..." Beach trip. Missing kids. Going into the cave. Finding missing kids? "Are there supposed to be kids here?"

"No, we got them out. And then the cave fell on your head. BD and I are keeping you company while Cere and Greez dig us out."

"Sounds great." Cal decides to sit up...

...bad idea. Oh, such a bad idea. Merrin wrinkles her nose as he throws up.

It's about that time that a large boulder blocking the tunnel moves and figures appear in the blinding sunlight.

"Cal! Merrin! BD!" Cere's voice echoes.

"BD and I are fine. Cal is asking about rancors."

"Cere, I gotta ask you something –"

"Perhaps you should send a medic in," Merrin says over him.

"Oh, oh, hey, medic person! What would you rather fight..."

Chapter Text

The Empire beat them to this old Jedi temple. Cal, BD and Cere watch stormtroopers raid the site from atop a windswept cliff. Cere does a poor job concealing her anger, an anger Cal isn’t sure he shares, and not just because every unsatisfying breath is hard to take at this kind of altitude and he’s so cold he’s pretty sure his hair is freezing under his hat. No, it’s not that he doesn’t care – he knows Jedi culture should be protected and saved. It’s just how can they do that when the Empire looms large over everything they do and everywhere they go? They need to stop the disease spreading.

“We’re going in,” Cere says.

Cal packs away his thoughts and nods. “Got it.”

Cere’s anger disappears beneath unbreakable shields. Cal and BD follow behind, making their way down the cliff via a winding pathway.  The Force offers nothing in the way of warnings.  The troopers don’t know they’re coming.

Cere activates the comm. “Merrin, how many are we talking?”

Merrin, who circles the perimeter of the old temple, answers swiftly. “I count ten,” she says, voice low. “There do not appear to be any others in the vicinity.”

“Greez?”

“Same. No other ships or other transports. It’s just those guys and us.”

“Stay close, both of you,” Cere says.

“I am ready to provide a distraction,” Merrin says.

“And I’m ready to blow up that little transport ship of theirs,” Greez adds.

BD offers many, many threats of violence – quietly.

Cal can’t help smiling. When the five of them work together, they’re unstoppable.

Cere, Cal and BD reach a small rocky outcropping just above the old temple. This area is rocky, with minimal amounts of shrubbery to hide behind. There will be no element of surprise without Merrin making everyone look the other way.

“Ready?” Cere whispers, hand curled around her blaster.

Cal’s hand tightens on his lightsaber. BD crouches low. “We’re ready.”

Cere gives Merrin the signal. Green fire peppers the trooper’s landing craft. Shouts go out, looted treasures dropped, weapons grabbed, but they’re already too slow. Cere and Cal descend from the outcropping, shooting and slicing their way through the troop. It’s over in under two minutes. There are no survivors. Cal doesn’t relax until he’s swept the temple and both Merrin and Greez confirm no one’s approaching from the distance.

By the time they reunite, Greez landing beside the Imperial craft (“I’ll blow that up when we go!”), Cere has categorised most of the loot into what they can take and what they should return to the temple. Most of what she wants to keep are holobooks and holocrons, and Cal admits that the ones concerning lightsaber construction and combat are going to be very useful. He has found plenty of echoes telling him this temple, tiny and sparse, was largely used by Jedi who thrived in high-altitude areas, although it fell out of regular usage during the High Republic. They pack up what they can carry and retreat to the Mantis, where Cal realises he no longer feels dizzy from the lack of oxygen.

Cere hands over a holobook concerning lightsaber mechanics. “Are you glad we came here?”

She knows him better than he knows himself sometimes. It’s a little disconcerting. He takes the book, feels it hum with the energy of countless studious Jedi. “Yeah, I am.”

“Great,” Greez says before Cere can respond. “Because all that thin mountain air worked up my appetite. Who’s for dinner?”

“I will help prepare the scazz steaks,” Merrin says.

“Didn’t you want to blow up that ship first?” Cal asks.

“Nah, can’t be causing that kind of damage on an empty stomach,” Greez says. "Food first, ship destruction second."

Chapter Text

“Cal.”

“Shh.”

“Cal!”

“Shh, Greez, I’m trying to concentrate!”

“I’m gonna die. We’re gonna die! I knew I never, ever, should’ve left the ship!”

Cal looks over at him. He’s sinking – they’re both sinking – into quicksand. Slowly, yes, but sinking, nonetheless. Actually, Greez is definitely sinking faster due to the amount of flailing and wailing he’s doing. And he doesn’t have as far to sink, which isn’t helping. BD’s not around to get help because he decided to go into town with Cere and Merrin. Cere wanted a head start by heading out early – something about the best caf blend deals only being available early in the day. Merrin went along because she was awake and eager to explore. Cal had taken the rare opportunity to sleep in (sleep in, poke at his lightsaber on the workbench, what’s the difference?) and Greez opted to finish some maintenance prior to the two of them following Cere, BD, and Merrin. And what happened on their way to the market?

They somehow wandered off the jungle path and into quicksand. Actual, real-life quicksand. It’s giving Cal very, very bad memories Bracca, but now is not the time for old traumas to consume him.

Sand is a lot drier than oil pits after all. And there was never any risk of sunburn on Bracca.

Cal needs to get them out, or at the very least he needs to get Greez out so Greez can go for help. It is surprisingly cold in the sand despite the burning hot sun. Cal isn’t in any kind of rush to experience hypothermia again, and he definitely doesn’t want to learn what it feels like to choke to death on sand.

“Cal!” Greez wails.

Alright. There’s only one thing for it. He’ll have to lift Greez out, then Greez can go for help. Easy. Simple. “I got it. Just calm down.”

Finesse is where Cal still lacks training as far as the Force is concerned. Throw stuff, pull stuff, fine. Intricate work, like make enough space in the tightly packed sand to free Greez and lift him? That’s trickier. But Cal understands the physics of it, and the Force is there, helping him to create enough space around Greez’s sinking body to lift him free. He feels a distinct pop, and then Greez’s relief and delight as he’s lifted free. Cal returns to himself and sees in his distraction his own body has sunk a little lower.

Greez isn’t going to have time to get Cere and Merrin.

Okay. Okay, he can do this. It’s fine. There’s nothing nearby he can use to haul himself out, no convenient vines he can grab. He’s going to have to make enough space in the sand around him and work his way free.

“This isn’t how I pictured our day going,” Greez says.

“Nope, me neither.” Cal chuckles. “Can’t wait to explain it to the others.”

“How about we don’t? You get out, we go back to the ship, shower, and then just head into town like everything’s fine.”

“Cere will know. You’re a terrible liar.”

“I’m a terrible liar! Me? Your face goes as red as your hair when you try lying. It makes no sense to me, kid. You’re an absolute card shark, but the second you try to keep something from someone else, you light up.”

It’s the truth, and everyone who knows Cal knows it. Instead of responding, he uses the Force to give his legs enough space to kick, kick, kick his way free, slowly, so slowly, until he’s close enough to solid ground to pull himself free. Greez gives him a sandy hug before Cal can flop onto his back.

“We’re never gonna live this one down, are we?” Greez asks.

“Nope.” Cal rubs his head. He’s going to need something for this headache.

“Shower,” Greez says.

“Race you!” Cal takes off for the ship at top speed.

“This is anti-Lateron discrimination!” Greez bellows from behind.

When they do get to town much (much) later, showered and changed, and find Cere, Merrin and BD at a small café, Cere points at two empty chairs. “Tell us everything.”

Chapter Text

Greez won’t allow anybody off the ship.

“I wish to explore the town,” Merrin says.

“We need to restock,” Cere reminds him.

BD wants to find something new and exciting to scan.

“I’m hungry,” Cal says.

“No one is going anywhere until we find it!”

Greez’s lucky spoon has gone missing. Again.

“Maybe you should strap it to an arm so you never lose it,” Merrin says. “It will turn up, it always does. Now let me off this ship or I may find the spoon and curse it to never be found again.”

“You do that, and I’ll find a way to curse you,” Greez growls. He jabs a finger at Cal. “You! With the echoes! Find one that will tell you where my spoon has gone.”

“No way, Greez. The last time I did that I saw things that scarred me for life.”

“What things?” Merrin asks.

Cal shoots her a withering look. “What part of scarred for life is unclear? I am protecting you from unimaginable horrors.”

“I can manage horrors,” Merrin says.

“No,” Cal says. “You can’t.”

Greez throws a stale bread roll at his head. Cal deflects it without even looking.

“Greez, we’ll all search for five minutes, and if we don’t find it, you will let us off this ship,” Cere says, ever the voice of reason.

Eyes wide, Cal stares at her. Is she going to mind trick Greez? She’s using that tone of voice.

Two of Greez’s hands find his hips. “Ten minutes.”

“Seven, and I’ll go no higher,” Cere counters.

“Seven. Starting now. Get looking. Droid, you take the vents.”

“Why would it be in the vents?” Cal asks, knowing perfectly well why it might be in the vents.

Greez narrows his eyes.

“Fine. BD will search the vents.”

Given that the last time the spoon went missing Merrin found it on the lower deck, Cal announces that’s where he and BD will start and dashes off to the back of the ship. The moment they’re alone, BD bursts into evil laughter.

“BD, you did not take it again, did you?”

And why would BD need to do that when they have a bogling on board who’s perfectly capable of doing so herself?

Groaning, Cal opens a nearby vent and shoves BD inside. “Grab it from her and bring it to me.”

BD returns three minutes later with the very battered spoon. Cal’s eyes widen in horror. “She’s been chewing on it?” He takes it from BD and nearly recoils. “I do not want to know what that smell is.” It’s bad enough to distract Cal from the hum of echoes – all of them happy memories of Greez cooking. If he can get to the refresher without being seen, maybe he can wash off the stink… but how to explain the teeth marks?

BD nobly offers to say he grabbed it too hard with his feet, damaging it. Rather that than revealing the bogling’s existence. It’s still way too much fun having Greez be clueless about their extra crewmate.

“You’re the best, BD.” Cal climbs to the upper deck and almost jumps out of his skin when Greez stands in the doorway.

“My spoon!” Greez declares. “Just in time, too. I gotta stir the curry.”

Cal stares dumbly at the spoon still clenched in his hand. Rookie mistake. He should’ve hidden it in his pants until he could clean it.

Greez grabs for it.

Cal pulls it out of his reach just in time. “I gotta wash it,” he says. “I, uh, I found it on the lower deck. It smells bad. You don’t want to poison us.”

“I know it stinks, I can smell it from here. Gimmie my spoon, Cal. I’m not going to use it.”

“Maybe leave it to clean all night,” Cal says. “Use another spoon.”

Greez stares at him. “You’re being weird. Have you done something to my spoon?”

BD says he may have damaged it. Greez doesn’t understand a word. “I just hope I didn’t damage it pulling it out of the deck where it was stuck.”

“Ah, a few new dents won’t hurt it. A lucky spoon should have some character.”

“Oh, okay then.” Cal hands it over.

Greez checks it over. “Perfect. Aside from the stink.”

“Wait, it’s not damaged?”

“You mean all these nicks and dents?”

“Well, yeah.”

“Have you never looked at my spoon before?”

“Yeah I…” Actually, no, he hasn’t, not in detail. And given the hum of Greez’s happy cooking memories bubbling away in his head, he’s never touched it before either. “No, I guess I haven’t.”

Greez leads him back into the galley, regaling him with how he made that dent, and how he caused that discolouration. Cal looks to Cere and Merrin, knowing they get the message: go, run, while you still can.

The women escape.

“Now that we’ve found it, I’m going to head out too,” Cal says.

“Sure, sure,” Greez says.

Cal heads for the hatch.

“One other thing.”

“Yeah?” Cal goes for innocent, honest, he’s a Jedi, he wouldn’t keep secrets or tell lies or –

“The next time we’re on Bogano, the bogling stays there.”

Chapter Text

Dawn arrives cold and dull. The air is damp with yesterday’s rain and the promise of more. Cere steps into the galley and finds Greez and Merrin staring at the caf pot bubbling away. Cal and BD are noticeably absent. Swallowing a sigh and adding her caf mug to the line, Cere asks the obvious question. “Still digging?”

“Still digging,” Greez says.

“The rain did not stop him,” Merrin says.

“Rain? The kid lived on Bracca for five years. Rain would never stop him,” Greez says. “Nah, it’s nightfall and dawn that didn’t stop him.”

Cere wills the caf maker to speed up. She grabs Cal’s mug and puts it next to hers. “I’ll talk to him.”

“You tried last night,” Merrin says. “You did not succeed.”

Greez can’t hold in his laughter, and it comes out in a short, sharp bark. He’s worried. Cere knows all the signs Greez can’t hide.

They’re all worried about Cal.

And Merrin isn’t finished either. “Cal and BD never came back last night.”

“How can you tell?” Cere asks.

“Cal’s bed was not covered in mud and water as expected, and BD hasn’t recharged.”

“Thank you, Detective Merrin,” Greez says, pouring caf for all. “I was up a few hours ago, found him on the lakeside. Got some food and a hot drink into him. Tried to talk him into stopping, that he doesn’t stand a chance of digging up anything. He very politely said no. BD shrugged because he’s already given up trying to stop him.”

Cere suspected as much yesterday when they arrived in the crumbling town with a tragic story. A terrible storm had washed most of the town away, leaving just a handful of buildings and survivors behind. After a speaking with the townsfolk, Cal found a single echo, and since then he’s single-handedly digging his way into a sunken village. He hasn’t told them what he saw in the echo, but whatever it is, it’s driven him nonstop. The Force reveals nothing, Cal isn’t in any danger, which is why Cere hasn’t pushed too hard, but the idea that he’s been at the bottom of a lake for an entire night is a real worry.

Cere tugs on a coat, throws the hood over her hair and grabs caf for herself and Cal. “Get some towels and a few blankets ready,” she calls over her shoulder on her way to the ramp. “I’ll bring him back as soon as I can.”

“See you tonight then,” Greez mutters.

“I’ll take that bet,” Merrin says.

They tap their mugs together to seal the deal.

Outside, the surviving half of the town stirs in the dull morning light. Ahead, floodwater laps at what was once a road. Umbrella held over her head with the Force, drinking caf and holding another, Cere waits. It’s not long before Cal emerges from the lake, waterlogged and weary. BD is on his back. Cal has something clutched in one pale hand. The Force gathers around him, calm and quiet because he has no energy left.

Cere steps up to him and holds out the caf. Cal takes it with a water-wrinkled hand. “Thanks.” His voice is hoarse with exhaustion.

“You’re welcome.”

She sips her caf, waiting him out. While she does, she looks at the item in his hand. It’s a large, silt-covered crystal. Not kyber, and yet it simmers with an energy. She swears she can hear it sing.

“It’s full of memories,” Cal says. He blinks, but his eyes don’t come back from the distant place they’re staring into. “Almost as though the town itself was alive, watching over its people.” He hands it over to Cere. She catches sight of his torn skin and muddy, ragged nails. He really had spent the whole night digging underwater. No wonder he radiates weariness. If Cere doesn’t hold it at bay, she’ll need to take a nap. She reaches out to steady him when he weaves on his feet. “Can you give it back to the mayor? I think it’ll be better coming from you.” He waves a hand at her, and Cere thinks he means ‘someone who isn’t soaked through, shivering, about ready to pass out and very, very muddy.’

“Of course.” Taking it, Cere looks at him, nudging at his shields. He pulls them closer like the towels and blankets he so desperately needs to be draped in. “You’re exhausted.”

He smiles faintly. “Yeah. Hard digging at the bottom of a lake. Glad my rebreather held out that long.”

BD hops onto the ground, shaking like a soggy bogling. He probably picked up the habit on Bogano.

“If you ask nicely, maybe Merrin or Greez will clear out your joints,” Cal says.

Cere wants to know what drove him to push so hard where it was, to her mind, so unnecessary. Even with the crystal’s hum brushing against her mind, there’s more to this than she understands. “Go on,” she says, nudging gently through the Force. “Take a shower, put something warm and dry on, and get some sleep.”

He drinks the caf in three rapid gulps, returns Cere’s gentle Force nudge with one of his own, and retreats aboard the ship with BD in his wake. He’s a little unsteady on his feet, maybe unused to solid ground after so long underwater. Greez and Merrin’s voices waft toward Cere. She waits until silence falls once more before finishing her caf, leaving her mug on the ramp, and heading into the town. She catches the mayor on her way into the village hall. She looks at Cere, then catches sight of the crystal in her hand.

“He found it?” The mayor takes it when Cere is close enough to hand it over. Her eyes swim, her voice trembling. “I never thought it possible.”

“Please, forgive my ignorance,” Cere says. “What is its significance?”

“We called it the Memory Stone. For centuries it watched over our village, a guardian of sorts.” The mayor gives a self-deprecating smile. “I know, it’s almost childish. Legend says it was given to us by the ancient Jedi, a symbol of light against the encroaching darkness. They say the Sith took particular interest in this world during those ancient wars. The Jedi reminded us that there is always hope. We lost that hope last year when the floods came.” She holds the crystal close to her chest. “And now, the hope is restored.”

A light in the dark, a reminder of hope. A reminder of what the Jedi had once been – to this world and the galaxy as a whole. Cere smiles. “Cal will be glad to know he helped.”

“Give him our best. It must have been hard work rescuing this from the old town hall.”

Cere returns to the Mantis, grabbing her abandoned mug off the ramp, pouring the rainwater out before she boars the ship. Still in the galley, Greez is now baking while Merrin licks a spoon coated in sugar-sparkled dough.

“Cal’s asleep and BD’s charging,” Greez announces, rolling the dough flat, a selection of cookie cutters beside him. “Here’s hoping they spend the entire day that way.”

Slipping into the engine room, Cere finds Cal in bed, curled up on one side, damp hair spilling across the pillow, the red so bright against the white pillow. BD has powered down to recharge. The Force hums with soft energy.

Good. Let them both rest.

Several hours later, Cal reappears, sleep-stained and wrapped in his blankets, BD riding in his usual spot. Greez hands over cookies and tea. BD hops down to scan the rest of Greez’s baked goods. Merrin points Cal in the direction of the couch. Cere meets him there, giving him a nudge. He reciprocates by letting his head drop onto her shoulder.

And that’s all they need to say.

Chapter Text

“We’re lost,” Greez declares.

“We’re not lost,” Cere tells him.

They keep walking through the trees, dead leaves crunching underfoot. The air is chilly with winter’s approach, the promise of frost in the air. It’s nice to get out after days stuck on the ship. At least that’s what the others tell Greez. Personally, he likes being stuck on the ship. All of Cere’s comments about him getting weird pass over his head. He likes hulls, bulkheads, walls, doors… Is it his fault his species has a history of living in underground tunnels? Some facts of nature go deep, deep down into the marrow of someone. Besides, all this hiking and climbing and mud… it’s just… he’s not…

“We’re lost!” Greez wails.

“We’re not lost!” Cere, Cal, Merrin shout at him.

BD just does that disappointed warble sound he makes when someone’s really getting on his circuits.

Greez doesn’t buy it from any of them. “Oh, we’re not? Can any of you find us on a map?”

BD peeps that he can because he is the map.

Cal snorts.

Greez is ready for them both. “Now, BD, I am not one to question your expertise in cartography.”

Cal coughs.

“However, don’t you make maps as you go, meaning you don’t know if we’re anywhere near the place Cere thinks we’re headed to?”

BD tips his head to one side, conceding the point.

“Unmapped just means uncharted,” Cal says, entirely too chipper for someone who might never see the galaxy beyond these woods ever again. “Relax, Greez, breathe in that fresh air and try to enjoy yourself. We’ve got the camping gear, you have a big ol’ fire to build in your future, and everything will be fine.”

“I thought we were looking for some huge structure like those temples on Zeffo. How come we haven’t found it yet?”

“Because this is an unpopulated moon and we had to land the ship some distance from our destination,” Merrin tells him. “You are impatient, Greez. Walking is not as fast as flying, especially for you.”

“Hey, just because I don’t have such freakishly long legs as Dathomirians or Humans –”

BD buzzes something and Cal chokes on his own laughter. Good. Let him suffer.

“We’re almost there,” Cere calls from the front. “I can feel it.”

Cere’s certainty gives Greez hope. “You could have told me that Force thing of yours tells you stuff like that.”

“Oh, no, it’s not the Force.”

Hope dwindles. “Then how –”

Cal takes pity on him. “We’re going uphill. Haven’t you noticed? The ruins are on top of this hill.”

BD lets out a long string of beeps.

“BD says you can do it,” Cal translates. “In fact, he thinks you could probably beat him to the top of the hill. His legs are even shorter than yours after all.”

As if to prove a point, BD hops down, skuttles to Greez and hops from one foot to another, still babbling.

“He promises he won’t use his thrusters,” Cal adds.

“Fine, BD, let’s go.”

Greez makes it to the top of the hill ahead of anyone, gasping and heaving for breath. As promised, there are ruins – if piles of rock can be called ruins. BD disappears, the light of his scanner showing where he is. After patting Greez on the shoulder, Cal leaps and bounds off to join BD, Cere goes at a (barely) more restrained pace, and Merrin teleports a few times before returning to Greez. “I would like to help with the fire,” she says.

“Good,” Greez says, still trying to catch his breath. “Because I think I need a nap after all this fresh air.”

Instead of sleeping, Greez shows Merrin the fine art of building a fire you can cook on without using magick, and by the time their Jedi and droid return, Greez and Merrin have the flames roaring, the meat cooking and the tea brewing. The stars come out, the ruins protecting their little campsite from the worst of the hilltop breeze.

Cal drops down next to Greez. “Not bad for an uncharted forest moon, huh?”

Greez pours the hot chocolate into four mugs. “Not bad at all.”

Chapter Text

There are many things about Cal that baffle Greez. The whole Force thing for starters. Then those weird echoes of his. That damned droid following him everywhere all the time. The sleeptalking. The sleepwalking. The kid’s inability to sit or stand still.

But one quirk rises above all the rest.

He always, always sleeps fully clothed and with his boots on. Even after Cere offered to buy him something more comfortable to sleep in, Cal refused. The only concession he makes, and it’s barely one at all, is he sheds the poncho and his kit belt. Everything else stays on, including his boots. And even what he does take off sits beside his bed, like he might need to grab them and do some midnight scrapping.

Weeks go by, nothing changes. Greez ponders and ponders but never asks. If Cal catches him staring, he says nothing. BD glares. Greez knows the damn droid glares. Meanwhile, Cere gives Greez a Look, the kind that probably turned kids to goo when she was still a Jedi Master.

Actually, it’s doing a good job making Greez feel nervous too, like he’s about to get a big lecture. Reminds him of Great Grandma Pyloon when he’d done something really stupid, like that time he blamed his cousin for staining the carpet with engine oil. She caught him right before he accidentally set it on fire too…

Eventually, Cere’s looks get the better of him. Greez works up the courage, or maybe trusts he’s built up the necessary rapport, to ambush Cal early one morning not long after Ilum when he appears without his metal shadow trailing in his wake.

“Boots!” Greez blurts out while Cal sits on the lounge couch with a mug of caf. “Why are you sleeping in them?”

“Huh?”

“Why do you always sleep fully clothed? You can sleep in something else, take your boots off once in a while.”

“Oh, really?” Cal laughs. “Last time I took my boots off you said, and I quote, ‘Your feet are a health hazard to all organic life. Never, ever, take those off outside the refresher ever again.”

“Nice try, kid. Answer the question.”

Cal sighs, pinches the bridge of his nose. “I just do.”

“Cal.”

“Because I have to be ready.” Cal looks up, face pale. “Anytime, anywhere, I have to be ready to get up and run for my life. Or fight for my life. Or even just roll out of bed and go to work. I don’t…” He breaks off, blushing. “I don’t feel safe if I’m not ready to run. I can’t sleep if I’m not ready to wake up and go.”

Greez short circuits for a moment. Cal’s words make sense. Perfect, horrible sense. He needs to speak, say something, say anything, but his mouth gapes open. He can see from Cal’s expression this is not the right reaction.

Or maybe Cal is tired of everyone recognising his life is a series of tragedies when he’s told himself it’s fine, all fine, keep going for the past five years.

So Greez does the only thing he can think of. He clamps his mouth shut, drops onto the couch beside Cal, grabs him and pulls him into a hug.

“Okay, kid,” Greez says. “Okay.”

Chapter Text

A coughing fit from deep within his lungs tosses Cal into consciousness. Three things whip across his mind in a crash of clarity. Grey sky, grey sand, cold wind. He vomits a foul mixture of phlegm, bile and seawater, the force of which leaves him so oxygen deprived he promptly passes out again.

The rasping tide brings him around a second time. The taste of salt coats his mouth. A seabird circles overhead, its bleak cries needling Cal into full consciousness. He gets his hands beneath him, feels them sink into damp sand. He can do this. He can get up. He –

Why is he alone?

“BD?” Cal’s salt-clogged throat drops his voice an octave. He clears it, tries again. “BD!”

The little droid doesn’t respond.

Adrenaline launches Cal to his feet. BD. Where’s BD? He has to find him. Sand sucks at his boots, making every step effortful when he’s burned through nearly all his energy reserves. Cal splashes through the rising tide heedless of the cold, the sky dull, the wind brisk. His body aches, his shoulders so sore he can barely lift a hand and push his hair out of his eyes. He’s surrounded by piles of shuttle debris and has a vague memory of grabbing some when he and BD were out at sea. He can still see smoke on the horizon. He reaches a hand behind his head but doesn’t find any bumps or signs of injury. He’s just so exhausted it takes his memory a moment to fully align.

Uninhabited ocean world. Imperials coming to pillage resources that do not belong to them. Cal, BD and the crew stopping it. Sabotage. Badly timed, unfortunately. Cal falling from the ship, BD with him. Water. Deep. Dark. Far from shore. Far from the Mantis.

Cal would really like that to be the last time he ever has to fight anyone in a large body of water, but when the Empire decides an ocean world is actually their ocean world to plunder, someone has to stop them. And stop them Cal had, taking out their research vessel in such a way it looked like nature itself had fought back. But Cal had been thrown from the ship’s deck and pulled away by the tide before the Mantis could grab him, and now…

“BD!”

His salty skin pulls, lips cracking. He needs to calm down, center himself, reach for the Force and find the little spark of light that is his best friend. The Force exists in all things, even BD-1. Cal reaches for his comm, only to find it gone. At least his lightsaber is still on his belt. Fishing that out of an ocean would not be fun.

What if BD’s lost in the ocean? What if Cal loses him like he lost Master Tapal and Prauf?

He takes a deep, slightly crackling breath, and reaches for the Force. It fills him with warmth and strength, a soft blanket over his pulsing anxiety. Hush. Be still. Reach within.

Mind and body settling, Cal opens his eyes. If he washed up on this beach, tangled in some wreckage, there’s a good chance BD did too. Cal pulls his sea legs free of the sand, the phantom weight of water pressing against him. He teeters across the bleak landscape, the compacted sand solid enough but uneven. He reaches and reaches with the Force, calling out.

BD doesn’t respond. Cal peers at the shoreline and catches a flash of red light blinking in a pile of metal and wire at risk of being pulled back into the ocean. Body hollowed out with fear and exhaustion, Cal staggers onwards.

“I’m coming, BD,” he wheezes. “I’m coming, buddy.”

The water catches the pile, pulls it out with the tide. Cal wades into waist deep water to catch up. He finds BD, lights shimmering in low power mode, caught up under jagged hunks of wreckage. Cal barely keeps himself from grabbing the metal, knowing the echo will consume him. He can sense its dregs regardless (screams, howling winds, roaring water). He pulls BD free with the Force and swims awkwardly to shore with BD tucked tightly in one arm. Graceless, bedraggled, Cal rolls onto the beach once more, thoughts of keeping BD safely out of the water giving him the strength he needs to drag them both further up the beach, away from the encroaching tide. He’s over a hefty dune, seagrass surrounding them, before Cal notices he’s fallen over with no hope of getting up. Too tired. He’s too damn tired. How many hours were they at sea? He can’t remember.  He holds BD close, the little pulse of lights telling him BD must have used up nearly all his power to reach the beach.

“I’ve got you,” Cal tells him, curling his body around BD. “You’re safe now. The others will come. They’ll find us.” Voice hoarse, he tells BD all the ways they could be found. “Cere will use her Seeker powers, or Merrin will activate a curse I didn’t notice and set us on fire so she can see us, or Greez’s lucky spoon will point to us.”

He’s not sure when he blacks out. All he knows is when he comes to, he and BD are safely tucked up on the Mantis, BD’s lights pulsing a soft blue again. He’s huddled as close to Cal as he possibly can, recharge cables trailing across the deck.

They’re home, and they’re safe. Cal relaxes with a hefty sigh.

A soft sound captures his attention. Cere sits beside them, reading a holobook Cal hasn’t seen before. His blurry vision won’t focus on the title. She glances up, sees Cal blinking. Does she smile? He thinks so.

“It’s a treatise written by a Jedi Master who had more than thirty Padawans.” She turns the page, its light glowing in her brown eyes. “She had far more patience than I could ever muster.”

“Don’t say that,” Cal says. “You’re not old enough yet to have had thirty apprentices.”

A sly chuckle comes from BD where he’s still snuggled up to Cal.

Naturally, Cere shows no reaction.

“How’d you find me?” Cal asks through a jaw-popping yawn. Something in his chest pops too. Must’ve swallowed more water than he thought.

Cere makes him wait until she finishes the page – or pretending to read the page. He’s not really awake enough to make the call. “You may not believe it, but you do stand out.”

He does?

“I do?”

Putting her book down, Cere reaches over and rests her hand on his head, fingers running through his hair. “On a cloudy beach on a dull day, we all spotted a familiar sight behind a sand dune. Merrin teleported down to make sure you were still alive, Greez landed, and we brought you both back aboard. Do you remember any of it? You were pretty out of it, although we managed to get you changed. Hopefully the sand in your clothes won’t wreck the washer.”

This time, Cal’s memory remains stubbornly blank. He walked aboard? They helped him out of his sea-drenched clothes? Maybe the amnesia is for the best. Cal lets any hints of recollection drift far, far away. And maybe he drifts too, eyes closing, Cere’s touch so soothing. He sleeps again, warm and comfortable.

“Greez made soup and spice cakes.” Cere’s voice pulls him out of slumber sometime later. Her hand disappears, leaving warmth in its wake.

“Okay.” Dragging his eyes open, Cal wraps himself in his thickest blanket, detaches BD from his charging cables, and they follow Cere to the galley. “I’ll oil your joints later,” he tells BD, whose legs are making an unpleasant grinding sound.

“You waddle,” Merrin comments when she sees him. “You and BD are like little hatchlings following their mother.”

While BD launches into an explanation Merrin cannot understand about he isn’t a hatchling as droids are made, not born, Cal drops into a chair at the table and leaves Cere to continue to the lounge where she places her book on the table. Greez slides a bowl of soup over and tucks the blanket around him a little more snuggly.

“Thanks for coming to get us,” Cal says to both Greez and Merrin.

“You are welcome,” Merrin says. “You did a good job taking out the Imperial ship. Although next time perhaps you should do it closer to shore. Water does not like you.”

Cal knows better than to argue with her. Ever since Nur, she doesn’t like him anywhere near water.

“At least you both washed up this time,” Greez says. “Not sure my fishing skills are up to catching Jedi and droids.”

BD wants to know if Greez has fished from the ship before. With Cal busy slurping soup, Cere returns and translates for Greez.

“Nah, can’t risk the ship getting water damage if we’re too close to the waterline, and I wouldn’t waste the fuel hovering over the water. Besides, we’d need to be so close we’d scare everything away. Or cook it. Well, boil it really, and I’m not a fan of boiled fish.”

Merrin slides onto a chair beside Cal, reaching around Greez to grab herself a spice cake. “Are you alright? You were nonsensical when we found you, and then we could not wake you once you were in bed. And I have never known BD to be silent.”

“We’re okay,” Cal says, coming up for air and a soup refill. BD does a dance to prove his recovery is complete, albeit a little creaky from the sea salt. “And we saved a planet from exploitation, at least for now.”

“Anything we can do to make the Empire have a bad day is a success,” Cere says.

“Yeah, if they’re having a bad day, I’m having a good day.” Greez hands out caf (and places a small empty mug on BD’s head) and raises his mug in the air. “Here’s to being a thorn in all their sides.”

BD whoops, mug bouncing.

Merrin raises her mug and her half-eaten spice cake.

Cere taps hers to Greez’s, Merrin’s and BD’s, then looks to Cal, wiggling her mug.

“I’ll drink to that,” Cal says, tapping his mug to hers and then the others. “Mantis Crew 1, Empire 0.”