Chapter Text
Cal pushed away from the bar, the half-empty metal cup still resting near his hand. The weight of everything he’d said (and everything he hadn’t) settled heavy in his chest. Greez’s eyes were still on him, hopeful and a little concerned.
“I got a spare room down in the basement made especially for you,” Greez insisted. “You should check it out.”
Cal didn’t argue. He nodded, and with BD-1 perched back on his shoulder, he turned toward the hallway behind the bar.
“The room?” Greez called after him. “Oh, kid, you’re going to love it. Just take a right after the bar, through the kitchen, and down the stairs. Can’t miss it. And you can thank me by getting some shut eye! You really do look terrible.”
Cal muttered something that might’ve been gratitude and turned toward the old refresher unit.
The door creaked as it slid open, revealing a room barely clinging to functionality. The lighting flickered, casting dull shadows across the space, but the mirror seemed somewhat clean compared to the chipped tiles and cracked sinks below.
Cal walked over to it as he noticed the grime that coated his face was starting to crust. He turned on the water faucet and stuck his hands under the stream, thankful as the chill bit into his skin. The water pooled in his cupped hands as he splashed it on his face.
As he looked up, the reflection staring back wasn’t exactly unfamiliar, but it still unsettled him. His green eyes were glassy with fatigue, the skin beneath them bruised with sleeplessness. He turned the water on again, splashing it across his face and running wet fingers through his hair in a half-hearted attempt to feel human again. But the reflection didn’t change much. Beneath the exhaustion, there was something else reflected in the mirror.
Grief.
Not fresh nor sharp like it had once been, but settled deep, heavy, always there. It sat in the corners of his eyes, in the tightness of his jaw, in the way he held himself like he was waiting for another blow.
He leaned in, bracing both hands on the sink’s edges, the cold metal biting into his palms. This was who he was now. He was no longer the wide-eyed Padawan clinging to hope, but a survivor. A fighter. A fugitive with too many ghosts and not enough time to mourn them.
Cal exhaled slowly, trying to steady the spiral inside his chest. He splashed more water on his face, let it drip from his chin, and for a moment — just a moment — he closed his eyes.
⋆༺𓆩⚔𓆪༻⋆
The door slid open.
Cal took a slow breath in. The air smelled like earth, metal, and something faintly sweet. The room was small, round, and quiet, and soft light spilled from the overhead fixtures. Plants lined the edges of the room. Some sat in metal pots, and others grew out of old containers that looked like they used to be ship parts. They weren’t arranged perfectly, but they were healthy. Alive. They made the space feel less like a basement and more like a home.
He walked over to the bunk beds as BD-1 hopped all around the room, eager to explore whatever he could. Cal barely removed his boots before plopping onto the lower bunk without much ceremony. He let his head sink fully into the pillows as he closed his eyes.
For the first time in a while, the silence wasn’t filled with blaster fire, alarms, or shouts, but the quiet hum of the lights and the rustling of leaves.
Cal let out a long breath and allowed his body to relax.
Maybe, just for a little while, the galaxy really could wait.