Chapter Text
A cold, starry night had settled over the planet Tanalor. Gentle gusts of wind rustled the leaves. Merrin and Cal had prepared a small space for Kata aboard the Mantis, where the young girl now lay asleep.
Cal watched the bond between them with awe. The weight of having killed Bode still hung heavy on him, and Kata’s distant attitude only added to it. He often thought about approaching her differently—but he simply didn’t know how.
That’s where Merrin came in. Whether it was due to her Nightsister heritage or her tender heart—Cal believed both played a part—Merrin had connected with Kata almost instantly.
“I know what it means to be alone at her age,” Merrin had once said. “But because of us, she isn’t. And she never will be.”
Cal had simply nodded. That had been months ago.
It had taken Kata four whole months to warm up to their dynamic, to BD, to Greez—and eventually, to Cal. Now, she spent most of her time with Merrin, rarely left her side, and trusted her word the most. As for Cal... Kata's indifference toward him no longer hurt the way it used to.
So this was how things would be. There was already a wound in their Padawan bond—one that would be hard to heal even years from now. Most likely, it would always ache. And one day, Kata would either choose not to continue her Jedi training or, once she was grown, leave Tanalor behind altogether.
%%%%%
Tanalor nights were truly peaceful, and Kata wouldn't trade it for anything. The moonlight shadows of the trees on the puddles, the wild but tame creatures snoring loudly, the gentle breeze. Stories shared with the other Padawans.
"My friends, I took the Force vision test at the temple today, and I passed!" Niri said excitedly. "It was the toughest, but I did it. Do you think I'll be a Knight soon?"
"That soon?! Master Keema keeps telling me I'm not ready." Kata added in surprise. "At this rate, I'll be a Knight in 20 years."
"I've become a Knight, and nothing has changed." Tirro commented with a shrug. "I have poor insight. I don't have to be perfect at everything, and Master Cal supports me."
"He says that so you can improve yourself." Niri shook her head. "Why are you so quiet tonight, Zan?" All heads turned to the fourth friend.
"I was thinking... I wish Greez had some aged whiskey. It's really boring tonight, but we should celebrate Niri's success." Zan blurted out. "Kata, you would know about them."
"Of course, but I need to check the cabinets and chests. They might have moved it around."
"I'll go with you," Niri said. "But if there's more than one option, how do we know which is best? I don't know the brands."
"The spirits are home-distilled." Kata grinned.
"It'll be great!" Tirro was excited. "Kata, Niri, you have four arms; as much as you can carry—"
"No, we can't. Home-distilled spirits get you drunk very quickly, don't they, Kata?"
Kata shrugged. "Nevermind. As if they'll ever figure out how many bottles were consumed."
"True. Last time Master Cal and Master Keema went to Koboh for the Jedi trials, they brought a lot of distilled spirits."
When Kata and Niri returned to their friends with four bottles of high-alcohol bourbons for four people, they realized Thaya had arrived—so there were now five of them.
"This was a bit of a private gathering, Thaya." Kata nodded. "We don't have enough bottles for you."
"No problem, I'll drink from the same bottle as Thaya." Tirro quickly chimed in.
"We brought glasses, too, Tirro." Niri grinned. "We even brought extra in case the glasses broke. Good job, right, Kata?"
Niri and Zan laughed at Kata's groan, but Tirro and Thaya didn't hear; they were talking over which one to drink first.
"This is from Coruscant, wow. Is it expensive?" Tirro asked. "Maybe we shouldn't drink this."
"Actually, we should start with that," Niri commented.
So the young padawans shared every last drop, relying on their Force meditations to wake up the next morning and continue their routines.
The only problem was they had to get up in the morning to begin their meditation...
When Kata opened her eyes, she was truly cold, and the bed suddenly shook. When she opened her eyes to understand what had happened, she felt a sudden queasiness.
"Oh, I'm cold. My blanket. Ugh, could I die?"
The bed shook again, and this time someone lay down beside her.
"It’s impressive you’re still alive, considering how wrong you got everything. You called wine and brandy whiskey — maybe even engine oil — and drank like the galaxy was ending. Two of the bottles were real whiskey, by the way. Just so you know."
"Cal??"
Kata sat up with energy, but her stomach disagreed.
"No, you're not allowed to get up. I brought you water, drink that first."
Kata could now look around and turn her head without feeling queasy. Cal got up from the bed and handed her the water.
"If I drink this, I might throw up, Cal."
"That's the least of your problems, Kata. Really? Anyway, I won't be mad at you until you're all feeling better."
%%%%%
Five misbehaving Jedi students were sitting on a hilltop, meditating with Master Keema on guilt and the wild impulses of the soul. The view was so beautiful, Kata was doing her best to not think at all.
“Kata, you’re doing it again,” said Keema. “Your mind drifts too easily.”
“I don’t know, Master Keema. Maybe I’m not cut out to be a Jedi. Maybe it’s a good thing I’ve stayed a Padawan for years. Chasing passion isn’t the Jedi way, is it? So why am I even trying?”
Keema studied her from behind long lashes. Kata was a sweet girl. Outspoken, brave. She’d grown up free-spirited, and losing her family young had made the others on Tanalor her new family. That much was clear.
But looking more closely, Keema saw a girl who wanted to grow up and feared it all the same. Someone who wished to prove herself but hadn’t yet dared to take that step. A frightened, orphaned child.
“What is your passion, Kata? Do you even know what it is that’s pulling you from the Jedi path?”
“Clothes,” Kata replied.
Her friends burst into laughter, but the Jedi Master silenced them with a look.
“Kata’s a great tailor—and she doesn’t even use the Force,” Niri jumped in. “She designed and sewed the blouse she’s wearing!”
Kata was wearing a blue blouse. It did look nice. Still, she blushed under the unexpected praise.
“Niri’s exaggerating, Master Keema. I just draw what I see in my mind.”
“I’m not exaggerating,” Niri insisted. “Master, she’s really talented. Sometimes she even dresses me.”
“Niri!” Kata turned bright red. The boys glanced at her with curious interest, making her feel even more embarrassed.
Thaya’s eyes, however, were narrowed and thoughtful. She spoke before Master Keema could.
“Kata, we’re here because we made a mistake, and we’re supposed to learn from it. Whining isn’t the Jedi way. We have to devote our whole lives to this path.” She shook her head. “If you’re not taking the training seriously, why are you even here?”
“Thaya, that’s a hurtful way to speak,” Master Keema interjected.
“The only reason you’re saying that, Master, is because Master Cal likes Kata and treats her differently.”
“You’re right, Thaya,” Kata cut in, clearly angry. “Master Keema, with your permission—I’d like to respond.”
She turned to Thaya. “Since my father died, Cal and Merrin have been in my life, Thaya. Of course they’re important to me, and yes, they care about me.”
Then she turned to her friends, voice sharp. “Zan, have you ever seen Cal treat me any differently from the rest of you?”
“Honestly, no,” Zan replied. “You get your fair share of his sharp tongue. He critiques you just as much. Thaya, you’re wrong about that.”
“Whether I’m wrong isn’t the point,” Thaya said. “Kata herself admitted she doesn’t take training seriously. Clothes! That’s what’s holding her back. She just gave the answer to why she’s still a Padawan.”
Kata stood up. She was clearly furious.
“My talent being recognized must’ve really upset you,” she snapped.
Niri tensed and rose to her feet as well. Master Keema remained silent, watching.
Kata went on. “And what’s your talent, Thaya? When I told you who I liked, you went and joked about me behind my back to him.”
This time, it was Tirro who blushed.
“I’d like to stay out of this, please,” he said quietly.
But Thaya wasn’t backing down. She flipped her blonde hair behind her shoulder.
“At least I act instead of whining. If Tirro liked you, trust me—you’d know. He’s not one to hide his feelings. That’s experience talking.”
And then, without warning, Kata lunged at her—and the two girls went at each other, screaming and yanking hair.
%%%%%
Master Keema didn’t speak for a moment. The sound of girls yelling echoed across the hilltop. She waited with absolute patience on her face. Finally, she separated the two girls using the Force—both were pushed gently but firmly backward.
She walked slowly between them, her expression unreadable, but there was clear disappointment in her eyes.
“This is the result of your meditation?” she said, voice calm but icy. “I asked for five minutes of silence. In those five minutes, you went for each other’s throats.
You have passions. You get jealous. You feel anger. These aren’t things to suppress. They’re things to understand.” Her eyes turned to Kata. “Kata, if tailoring is your passion, that doesn’t make it wrong.”
Then she turned to Thaya. “And you, Thaya. You may be right. But being right doesn’t always mean you’re acting justly.”
Thaya lowered her head.
“One day, you may become Jedi. Or you may not. But above all else, you’re each other’s companions on this journey. Now...” She raised her arms toward the sky, “...we are going back to meditation. I want absolute seriousness and collected mindfulness.”
%%%%%
The tension that spread through the air after the two teenage girls fought lingered for several days. Even in a place as peaceful and well-landscaped as this, people—especially teenagers—could suddenly flare up like dragons, driven by the fires burning inside them.
Cal had once been a teenager too, and it hadn’t been easy. That’s why he understood them. That’s why he gave them a special punishment—though calling it an assignment was more accurate.
“I made this just for you two,” he said with a grin. “And you’ll have to work together on it.”
“Cal, please. No.”
“Master, this really isn’t necessary.”
“Oh, it absolutely is, Thaya. You too, Kata.”
They were on Lothal. Cal was walking toward the temple, while Rex and Ahsoka waited ahead, smiling.
“You’re not little kids anymore. But life on Tanalorr has been… isolated. I’m only now beginning to wonder if that’s been a mistake.”
“You didn’t make a mistake, Cal. It was what needed to be done at the time,” Ahsoka said, waving warmly to the girls.
“Hi, girls. This is Rex—an old friend.”
“Unlike Rex and Ahsoka,” Cal continued, “most friendships don’t last. That’s common. Conflicts arise, and bonds break. Those are relationships that didn’t pass the test. But the ones that do…” He gestured toward the pair in front of them. “You’re looking at one of the rare examples.”
Rex chuckled. “Now that’s the truth.”
“What if we’re betrayed?” Thaya asked. “That doesn’t count as a test, does it, Master Cal?”
“I didn’t betray you!” Kata snapped, turning toward Thaya. “You made your choice, and I made mine!”
“No, you’re right—betrayal isn’t really in the same category,” Cal replied thoughtfully. “What matters is how you respond to it. The heartbreak, the pain of realizing you believed in something false… That’s hard. But it’s also normal. It happens to everyone."
“Why should we even do this? What’s the point?” Kata asked, clearly still struggling to believe what she was hearing.
“Because until just last year, the two of you were inseparable,” Cal said gently but firmly. “You gave years of your lives to one another.
I can’t force you to go back to the way things were. Maybe when we leave this place, you’ll drift even further apart. But at the very least, you’ll walk away with something valuable.”
The tension between the girls softened, if only slightly.
“I’ll be going in with you,” Cal said. “But once inside, you’ll be on your own. I’ll be here when you’re done. Then we can head back to Tanalorr on the Mantis.”
%%%%%
As soon as the girls sat down in their meditation poses, Thaya instinctively walked toward an area that seemed to belong to her—and within seconds, she vanished into the temple’s walls.
Kata groaned in frustration. “Perfect. Of course the brilliant Knight Thaya Pake can solve every Force puzzle. Obviously.”
“But that doesn’t make you any less useless, sweetheart.”
The voice made Kata flinch. Fear gripped her entirely as she slowly turned around. “Dad?”
Bode was in the temple. He was actually inside—but how could that be? And he wasn’t even old.
“You… you’re not real. My memories made you—this is just a projection. You’re not real.”
“Of course I’m not.”
Bode smiled. It was the kind of smile Kata didn’t want to believe, but it felt… sincere. The kind of warmth only a father gives his daughter.
“But we’ve always been connected, Kata. I’ve been watching you all this time. I’m so proud of you.”
“Oh, Dad…” Kata didn’t know what to say. “I’m sorry—really. But you were a bad person.”
Her voice trembled. Tears were ready to fall, and she was barely holding them back. “I didn’t want you to die. I swear. I just hoped you’d come to your senses—I really did.”
“My sweet girl, you don’t have to apologize to me. I know your heart, Kata.”
Suddenly, a shaft of light appeared down a corridor.
“Is that my path?” Kata asked softly. “But I just found you. There’s so much I want to say to you.”
“Go, Kata. But know this—I’ll always be with you.”
“What will I see when I go?”
“You’ll see your heart, my beautiful daughter. And the truth. You’re at a point where the stories they’ve told you no longer serve you. That’s completely normal. Your time to choose is near
But believe me—all the options are right. There is no wrong answer.”
“If there’s no wrong answer, and they’re all right… what do I choose?”
Kata rolled her eyes with a sigh, but stepped toward the light. She looked back one last time—maybe to say something else—but Bode was already gone. Kata walked forward… and found herself in a completely different place. She was on the Mantis.
Cal stood with his back to her, talking to someone via the holotable.
Kata hesitated. Should she call out to him? But before she could speak, he turned around—
Or rather, an older Cal did.
She froze. He was still handsome, but his long white hair and beard gave him a softer, wiser look.
He was talking to a hologram. Though he was facing Kata’s direction, it was clear he didn’t see her—his attention was on the conversation.
“Gambling on Bespin? Seriously?” Cal asked, amused.
A woman’s voice answered: “I haven’t gambled in six years. Don’t laugh—I'm actually bankrupt.”
It wasn’t Merrin’s voice, but it was familiar.
“How much do you need?” Old Cal asked, already grinning.
“A lot. Are you still laughing?”
The voice felt increasingly familiar. Kata stepped closer, hoping to see the hologram more clearly. Apparently, she wasn’t physically on the Mantis—her steps made no sound.
“Didn’t you have an accountant?” Cal asked, one hand covering his mouth as he tried not to laugh.
“I was the accountant.”
At that, Cal burst out laughing.
“I’m so—so sorry I’m laughing. I just didn’t see that coming. Okay, tell me the amount.”
So… she must’ve been important to him. The woman said a number that made even Kata’s eyes widen.
Cal let out a low whistle. “Even if we sold all our belongings, a few artifacts, maybe our souls—and yeah, even our bodies—we still couldn’t afford that.
You’re officially bankrupt, sweetheart.”
Kata’s mouth fell open slightly. Did Cal just say that?
She’d never heard him use language like that before—but maybe… maybe old age softened people.
“Disgusting. I still love you though. And for the record, I’m not signing anything. If it’s bankruptcy, then so be it.”
Kata found herself agreeing—but that was a lot of money. The woman on the hologram would have to find a way.
“If there are no legal consequences, don’t sign anything, Kata. If you built all this from nothing before—and I know you did—then you own your failure, too.”
“I understand. Thanks anyway,” the hologram-Kata said, and the call ended.
The real Kata stood frozen.
So… everything might still turn out okay.
Even if she stopped being a Jedi.
Was that even possible?
Old Cal was saying something else, but before Kata could catch it, the scene shifted again.
She was somewhere new.
Tanalorr.
Under the dim lights among ancient stone walls and broken pillars, Merrin and Cal faced Bode. For a brief moment, there was a softness in Bode’s eyes—as if he was convinced, a crack had opened in his heart. But that moment was a trap.
Kata didn’t clearly remember this moment; she was young, and everything that happened was too heavy for her. At that time, her relationship with Merrin and Cal wasn’t good either, but everything had eventually been resolved.
Kata continued watching intently. The lightsaber was dangerously close to Bode’s face. She wanted to shout “stop” to Cal but couldn’t
Then Bode apologized—to little Kata. But adult Kata turned away from little girl, unable to watch her. She knew she was witnessing her father’s last moments.
“We tried to stop him, Merrin and I.” Cal had said years ago. “But our strength wasn’t enough to turn him from his path, and we had to fight Bode.”
“How did he die then?”
“It happened suddenly. The moment I embraced the dark side—because Merrin was truly in danger, and I wanted to protect her.”
“I think I understand.”
Kata lied. She didn’t understand. But Cal was trustworthy—why would he lie?
Then Cal broke free from Bode’s grip, and Merrin was safe. Both Jedi drew their blasters at the same time—Kata’s breath caught—and Cal shot Bode. Kata couldn’t scream. She stood frozen, breathless, powerless—only watching.
What had Bode’s spirit said to her just minutes ago? Something about choices. Why had Cal made that choice? As Bode lay dying, Cal fired again, and Bode was gone. Cal was shaken, the blaster slipping from his hand.
Kata’s eyes returned to her father—eyes closed and lifeless.
The scene ended—or was it a vision? She was back in the temple, her gaze shifting toward where Thaya had gone.
Kata was adrift, lost in the void.
%%%%%
Cal stepped out of the temple and peeked toward his friends outside. “Bit of a drag in there, folks.”
Rex chuckled. “No one said being a Jedi Master was easy. But hey — they’ve been inside for, what, two hours now?”
Cal laughed too. Ahsoka made a dry joke about patience, and the conversation carried on.
“I should get back to my students,” Cal said, a note of anticipation in his voice. “I really hope this is going to work.”
Ahsoka raised her eyebrows. “What if something happens that you never saw coming? Are you ready for that?”
Cal shrugged. “Dunno. We’ll see.” Then he walked back inside.
Ahsoka turned to Rex. “What do you think of Thaya?”
“The Knight, right? She’s more experienced—and her mindset is closer to Jedi.”
“I think it’s the opposite,” Ahsoka replied. “This was only my second time meeting Kata, but she feels closer to us. It’s just...”
“Is Cal the one holding her back?”
“I wouldn’t put it that way. I think he doesn’t even realize it—Kata needs more responsibility—”
Their conversation was cut short by shouting. Ahsoka and Rex moved quickly toward the temple—then froze in shock. Kata was yelling at Cal. So fiercely that Cal’s words were nothing but silent movements of his lips.
“—and you flat-out lied to me! Why?! Why?! I trusted you! I trusted you with everything I had—and you never told me!!”
Cal opened his mouth several times, guilt and helplessness in his eyes. He was speaking, but it was drowned out. Kata didn’t stop yelling. Then she began hitting him—her fists thudding against his chest, not doing much, she hadn’t used the Force.
—but she screamed while doing it.
“It’s not that I couldn’t handle it—you were afraid I’d lose trust in you! Well, you did it! You managed it! It’s gone—there’s nothing left!”
Cal wasn’t unresponsive. If he wanted to shout, he easily could have. But it was clear—he was trying to communicate. His lips moved again—maybe an apology, maybe an explanation. But Kata didn’t hear. She didn’t want to
“And—what about not even wanting me?! Was that part of the deal with the man you killed? Did you promise him you’d take me in? Why didn’t you just leave me in an orphanage?! What, did I have some mythical Force gift that needed protecting?! Really?!”
Cal reached his hands toward her, but Kata stepped back. “You’re a liar! You’re horrible! I’m not coming with you! It’s over! I said it’s over!”
%%%%%
“I truly understand you. It’s clear you haven’t had it easy... but Cal isn’t going back to Tanalorr without you.”
“What?!” Kata stared in disbelief. “Hera, you might not be too experienced with this kind of thing, but… I refused to be his student. Tanalorr isn’t my home anymore. I need to leave it. And this place is so peaceful.” She looked around. “Could I live on Lothal?”
The green Twi’lek gave her a gentle look—it reminded Kata of Niri for a moment. “Of course you could. Just… not right now, Kata.” There was not only empathy in her eyes, but sadness too. “Cal’s hurt as well.”
“He can go fuck himself.”
“Hah,” Hera said with a light chuckle. “That’s kind of how it works when a crew starts feeling like a family. That person sticks with you even if they’re on the other side of the galaxy, and it goes both ways. No matter how mad you are, you still want them around. Even if they broke your heart… you forgive them.”
“Hera, he lied to me. And I told him exactly what I thought. We’ll never be the same again.”
“You’re right,” Hera said. “...You’ll be better.”
%%%%%
It took two more days of convincing, but Kata eventually agreed to return to Tanalorr.
Kata looked drained and tired. She hadn’t spoken much since boarding the ship, and all her words had been directed at Thaya. That alone, in Cal’s opinion, was progress.
When they arrived at Tanalorr, Merrin was there to greet them.
“Unfortunately, I don’t think I can wait,” she said to Cal. “I have to leave with the Mantis right away.”
“To where?”
“Dathomir. There are a few artifacts I need to strengthen my magic. Maybe you’d like to come with me?” The last part was directed toward the two Jedi students. “Thaya, perhaps you’d like to join me?
Thaya looked uncertain—she had witnessed the tension between Cal and Kata on the Mantis firsthand. She had no idea what had happened, but whatever it was, it had been serious enough to make Kata consider quitting her Jedi training for days.
“I’m not sure if the timing’s right, Merrin.”
Before either Cal or Kata could respond, Merrin answered for them. “Perfect. It’s a girls’ trip.”
No one could really object. Merrin clearly knew what she was doing. Just before jumping up the ramp, she kissed Cal
“What should I ask from you for my birthday?” she suddenly asked.
“Oh, I don’t know,” Cal said. “A kiss?”
“New boots.”
“Three kisses.”
“New boots and a skirt.”
“You? In a skirt?” Cal was genuinely surprised. “Is it snowing on Tatooine?”
After that playful exchange, the Mantis took off and jumped into hyperspace. Cal found Kata in the forest.
“I don’t want to talk.”
“I didn’t say anything.”
“I still don’t want to talk,” Kata repeated.
“Okay, then you don’t talk. Just listen. Deal?”
Cal took a breath. “Why do you think Merrin and I haven’t had a child yet?”
Kata looked surprised. “Am I supposed to answer that?”
“What comes to mind?”
“There’s like a dozen kids of different ages running around Tanalorr. I doubt you feel the need.”
Cal shrugged. “Fair. But that’s not the real reason.”
Kata frowned. “I don’t know what else to say. Health issues?”
“It’s not that either. There is a reason we haven’t.”
“You’re afraid,” Kata said quietly. “You think you’d ruin it. That you’d be a terrible parent.”
Cal blinked. “Wow. That’s… harsher than I expected.”
She crossed her arms. “Tell me I’m wrong.”
“I think you’re angry,” he said. “And maybe it’s easier to believe the worst about me right now. But no, that’s not the reason.”
“Maybe staying calm around me is hard right now, but youre here,” Kata said, lowering her gaze. “What do you want me to say?”
“Look, let’s just get one thing straight for today: I’m not expecting you to act the way I want you to.”
“Then why did you call me back to Tanalorr? I said I didn’t want to come. You still wanted me here. Why?”
“Because that’s not how you do things!” Cal realized he had raised his voice but didn’t stop. “Yeah, I wasn’t ready emotionally. That’s true. Merrin and I weren’t sure about our future. Also true. The Empire was still a threat then, and I couldn’t just leave you somewhere.”
He took a deep breath. “Now none of that is real anymore—and I still can’t let you go.”
“How tragic,” Kata said. “I almost feel bad for you. But whatever we built here, Cal, the foundation is cracked.”
“Not for me. It feels solid.”
“Really? Then why do all your words sound so forced?”
“Because you’re in pain,” Cal said. “And I don’t know how to reach you when you're like this. But I’m still here. And I’m not giving up on you.”
%%%%%
Seven months later
“When you get to Lothal and find the school, what do you say at the front desk?”
Cal prompted.
Kata repeated, "I'm an orphan, from Tatooine. I’m a pilot and a mechanic, but deep in my heart, I want to be a fashion designer. That’s why I want to join this course. And if you don’t accept me, I’ll drink a lot of beer and throw beer cans at this building."
“Scratch that last sentence.”
Kata stuck her tongue out.
“You’re no fun.”
“You’d throw anything even without the drinking part.” Merrin handed over Kata’s backpack, stuffed with her things.
Kata slung it over her shoulders.
“We’re going to miss you,” Merrin said.
Kata winked.
“No doubt about you. My old master, though? He’ll probably sleep better once I’m gone.”
“Finally—honest, brave, unapologetically blunt—just kidding! Come here.”
Before Kata could react, Cal pulled her into a tight hug. She wrapped her arms around his shoulders.
“Be very, very careful. I’ll miss you.”
“I’ll miss you too.”
Within minutes, Kata boarded her ship Bandit and rose into the sky.
Cal stared after her. “I always knew she’d leave one day. I just never imagined it’d be like this.”
“You doubting her love for you was really the dumbest thing you’ve done,” Merrin said, smirking.