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It had been a difficult day for all of them.
The silence fell heavy around them as they retreated to the Mantis. Greez wordlessly made his way to the cockpit to get them in the air while Merrin excused herself to get some rest. She’d over-exerted her abilities trying to save those kids, and it was clearly weighing on her. Cal disappeared quietly, BD trailing along behind him. Cere watched him go, an uneasy feeling settling deep in her stomach.
Deciding it was best to give him a few moments alone, Cere entered the cockpit instead and took a seat.
“Got a place in mind?” asked Greez quietly, having already gotten them off the planet and into the dark recesses of space. Cere shook her head, her mind still trying to process what they’d just experienced. She knew first-hand exactly what cruelty the Empire was capable of, but that didn’t make it any easier to see.
“I’ll head to the other side of the Galaxy,” continued Greez. “Wanna be as far away from here as I can be.”
Cere nodded, still not trusting herself to speak. She thought she’d seen the last of watching children be slaughtered, but she supposed nothing could really surprise her when it came to the Empire. Not anymore.
“I never want to see that again,” said Greez after a beat, breaking the fragile silence that settled between them. “I can’t see it again.”
“I’m sorry, Greez,” said Cere, not sure what else there was to say. “The Empire–” She cut herself off. There were no words she could use to describe how she felt about the Empire. How she felt about the animals that had no qualms about rounding up innocent kids and slaughtering them for fun.
“We should check on the ki–on the others.”
Cere didn’t miss the way Greez wouldn’t allow himself to call them kids. He was right though, they did need to check on Merrin and Cal. The Nightsister was still new to the wider Galaxy, and the events of the day were so reminiscent of what happened to her people that Cere was worried she would not know how to even begin to process her emotions.
And then there was Cal, Cere’s sort-of padawan who placed the weight of the Galaxy on his shoulders. He’d destroyed the holocron precisely so the Empire could never get their hands on young Force wielders, only for him to watch it happen anyway.
“I’ll do it,” she said. “You concentrate on getting us as far away as possible.”
“I was thinkin’ I could cook us up somethin’ you know? Maybe a nice warm and comforting soup. Feel like we could use it.”
Cere gave him a sad smile, squeezing his shoulder gently.
“Thank you, Captain.”
Leaving the cockpit, Cere made her way to the bunk she shared with Merrin and knocked on the door softly. Although she’d been hoping the Nightsister may have been asleep, she heard the quiet permission to enter and opened the door to see the young woman laying on one of the cots.
“Just wanted to check in,” said Cere, hovering in the doorway. “I can understand if today was difficult for you.”
“It was difficult for all of us,” replied Merrin. “I was not strong enough.”
Cere sighed. “Sometimes we aren’t able to save everyone.”
“We did not save anyone.”
“No,” agreed Cere. “I suppose we didn’t.”
Silence fell upon them again, until Cere excused herself to check on Cal. “Get some rest, Merrin,” she said as she left the room.
“You should heed your own advice,” replied Merrin before the door slid shut. Cere knew the Nightsister was right, but she couldn’t rest until checking on Cal.
The engine room didn’t technically have a door, but she knocked on the frame anyway, not wanting to barge into Cal’s personal space. Silence greeted her, causing her heartbeat to rise ever so slightly. She hoped he was only asleep, but knew that was unlikely to be the case. Cal had taken the deaths of those children hard, the way he took every failure hard. She needed to be sure he was okay.
“Cal?” she asked, peering into the room. Her stomach dropped to her knees at the sight that greeted her. Cal was on the floor, softly banging the back of his head against the sharp edge of his cot. He’d rolled up one sleeve, giving her a good view of the blood coating his wrist. His blaster and lightsaber were discarded on the floor beside him, though she didn’t miss how he was clutching the metal screwdriver from his toolkit tightly in his fist. BD was powered down on the workbench. She doubted that had been the little droid’s choice.
“Cal?” she said again, taking a tentative step towards him. The last thing she wanted was to spook him, at least not until she got between him and those weapons.
“‘s my fault,” he whispered, continuing to bang his head backwards. “My fault, my fault, my FAULT.”
“What happened was NOT your fault, Cal,” said Cere loudly. He barely took notice she was there, allowing her the opportunity to step beside him and push the weapons away with her foot.
“All my fault,” he repeated.
Cere had never been more grateful for her Jedi reflexes than she was in that moment.
As Cal lifted the screwdriver, she reached out with the Force to pull it from his hand. All that landed on his thigh was his closed fist, though he didn’t appear to notice.
“I killed them,” he said, tears slipping freely down his cheek. “I killed them. It’s all my fault!”
Cere sat beside him, immediately gathering him up in her arms. “None of what happened is your fault, Cal,” she said, blinking back her own tears. “Only the Empire is to blame for what happened to those children. You did what you could.”
“It wasn’t enough!” He pushed away from her and she let him go. “What use am I if I can’t save anyone?”
Cere reached out to cup his chin, forcing him to look at her.
“No one blames you but yourself, Cal. The weight of the Galaxy does not rest on your shoulders alone.”
Green eyes glistening with tears met her gaze, and she watched as he broke. He buried himself in her chest, sobbing as his arms wrapped around her waist holding her close. Cere followed suit, tightening her grip around him and whispering reassurances in his ear. She ran her fingers through his hair, unsurprised when they became coated with blood.
She didn’t know how long they sat there, the only sounds in the room were that of Cal’s sobs until finally only silence remained.
“‘m sorry,” said Cal, pulling back so he was once again sitting upright beside her. “A Jedi should have control of their emotions. Guess I’m a pathetic excuse for a Jedi then, huh?”
Cere frowned, reaching out to wipe away his tears.
“You are one of the strongest Jedi Knights I have ever met, Cal. Never allow yourself to believe otherwise. Anyone would have broken down after what we experienced today.”
“But–”
“Stop, Cal.” Cere took his hand gently, wiping away the blood to find a jagged cut across his wrist. “Why?”
Cal shrugged, suddenly unable to meet her gaze. “I don’t know,” he admitted.
Stifling a sigh, Cere stood up to retrieve the medkit they kept on Cal’s workbench for when he refused help with his injuries. Returning to his side, she began to clean the cut gently, waiting for him to open up.
“I deserved it,” he whispered when she was nearly finished. Her fingers stilled on his skin, gaze drifting to his face. “Those children died because I was too weak to stop it. I deserve the pain.”
“Cal Kestis, you listen to me and you listen well because I am only going to say this once,” began Cere, fighting to keep her voice even. “No matter what happens, you never deserve this. You have a duty to take care of yourself, and that includes making space to forgive when you fail to save someone. We may be Jedi but we do not have the power to save everyone. Not from the cruelty of the Empire, nor from accidents, or illness, or anything else the Galaxy may throw our way.”
Cal was crying, though his eyes met hers and she watched as he took in every word.
“Promise me,” she continued. “Promise me that if you ever feel like you want to hurt yourself again, that you will come to me, or to Greez or Merrin about it. At the very least, don’t force BD to power down so he can come to one of us.”
“I’m sorry,” he whispered.
“It’s okay, Cal,” said Cere. “It’s okay if you’re hurting. But it’s not okay if you are hurting yourself.”
Cal sniffed, reaching up to wipe his nose. “I really am sorry, Cere,” he said. “I don’t want to worry you.”
Cere smiled, pushing the hair off his forehead gently.
“Too late for that,” she said. “I’m always going to worry about you.”