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The dusty sun bleeds red as it sinks below the distant rocky mountains, leaving behind the biting chill of Jedha's nighttime. Great scars in the cliffs that surround the Anchorites' safe haven have turned dark with the setting sun, and he can see the faint burn of a lantern from the watchtower that keeps an eye on the vast desert that rolls out in front of him.
Behind Bode, the fire is only just getting going, and the laughter and joking of the Mantis crew - no, the Mantis family, is a pleasant background noise. He can smell spiced caf and cooking herbs, and Bode wants to throw up. He feels like he is on the edge of a cliff, the gaping maw of the Empire at its base waiting to swallow him whole, and a warm smile, green eyes and an open hand outstretched as though to pull him back to the safer ground behind him.
He pulls in a shallow breath, fiddling with the comm on his wrist, his leather gloves feeling uncomfortably hot even as the desert air cools around him. He pulls them off for a moment, flexing his fingers and letting his bare hands rest on the weathered stone wall protecting him from the drop beneath. The battered old comm blinks innocently up at him. (Only battered to look at. It's the latest Imperial tech. Long range, clear as crystal, inbuilt with every encryption code, command number and priority bypass he could ever possibly need).
One call. He only needs to make one short call, and everything falls into place for him and Kata.
And falls apart for Cal. He grits his teeth so hard they hurt. He knows now that he loves Cal. Somewhere along the line, like the absolute fool he is, he fell not only for his own damn con, but head over heels for all that fire and spite and snark and competence.
But he can't let it mean anything. He has to protect Kata. Tanalorr will be that protection, but not if he lets Cal and his crew open in to the Path. His idle dream of living quietly there with both of the people he loves shattered with Dagan Gera's death. Now, his only hope - Kata's only hope is his final contingency plan. He will call the full might of the Inquisitorius down on Cere Junda and Cal Kestis, two of the highest priority targets the Empire has.
They will come, in overwhelming numbers.
Bode runs a hand through his hair and draws in a breath, prepares a bright grin, plans out a few mindless stories to share around this happy campfire, and turns.
He reels back hard enough to hit the wall behind him when he nearly crashes into Cal. "Stars, Kestis, when are you ever that quiet?" He yelps, heart racing. Cal is always loid and obvious and terribly unsubtle. He has never in all the months he has been in Cal's orbit, known the man to sneak up on anyone.
"Not sure it's possible to be louder than whatever's going on in your head, Bode." Cal says, the smallest of wry smiles on his face as he leans against the crumbling stone wall beside him. "You're a long way away tonight. What are you thinking about?" He asks.
"....Kata." Bode answers, sort of truthfully, his heart thudding painfully against his chest. He is suddenly unnerved by Cal's proximity. "You know. Hoping this all works for her."
"It will, Bode." Cal promises, reaching to touch his bare arm, just below where the sleeve of his dusty red shirt is rolled up. His fingers feel like fire, and they make the dark hairs on his skin stand on end. Cal's eyes are bright, and his smile changes just enough for Bode to have the tiniest shred of warning. "It's gotta beat Nova Garon, right?" He says, his voice ever so soft and intentional, and Bode freezes as his entire galaxy shatters.
He cannot speak - he can't even breathe. His mind goes utterly blank as it catches up with the reality that Cal knows. Cal knows, and Bode doesn't know how much he knows, and those damnabke green eyes are staring at him with such soft, guileless affection Bode doesn't know what to do with.
Cal pulls out the blaster, meticulously clean and well cared for, and for a wild moment Bode, still frozen in his shock, thinks he's about to be shot. Then, Cal places it gently on the stone wall between them. "I'm not sure if you forgot I was Psychometric for a minute there, or if you thought there wouldn't be anything important still lingering on it, but uh..." He smiles a little. "I'm afraid I'm quite good at it." He tilts his head. After months of work, of living as a Partisan, working deep undercover away from his little girl getting himself into Cal's orbit and finally onto his team, the damn blaster Bode gave to Cal on a complete whim (to drag his attention back and away from Merrin like an idiotic, lovesick little puppy) gave him away. "After that..." Cal continues, "...it wasn't difficult to find other echoes. In your Z-95, in your bunk on the Mantis...enough for me to piece it all together."
Cal has known Bode is a spy since their first trip to Jedha. Bode finally unsticks enough to blurt, "But you -"
"Let you stay? Of course I did. You're my friend, Bode. And you're not selfish for trying to protect your family. Force, I've killed to protect mine." Cal leans back against the wall and picks up the blaster again. Bode's heart skips again, and his own bare fingers twitch towards his shoulder holsters.
"There's something behind your eyes tonight." Cal says conversationally. "So I guess I'm here to ask you not to do it."
"...Ask me?"
"...No, I suppose not. I'm here to tell you. Asking was a courtesy." Cal's eyes are very bright, all of a sudden, and there's a terribly steely glint in them that Bode has seen before.
Ninth Sister. Dagan.
He opens his mouth, and nothing comes out. This is the Cal that kills to protect his family, and Bode is armed, a deadly assassin, consummate professional killer, but he knows in his bones that it's a fight he would not win. Cal might be beautiful in his fury, but he is a walking nightmare with that lightsaber. Bode has never seen anyone wield a blade the way Cal does, with a deep instinct and a deeper connection to the Force.
Finally, he finds his voice, though when he speaks it comes out in a raw scrape, ragged and wary. "Do they all..." He glances at the group around the campfire, feeling vaguely sick at the thought that perhaps every one of them knew about the Imperial wolf in their flock. None of them are looking over, all absorbed in their various tasks. Merrin says something to Greez that makes the Latero laugh, and the two Jedi Masters are leaning in close, heads bowed together with soft familial affection on their serene faces.
"Only Cere." Cal clarifies quietly. "Maybe Cordova, he's more perceptive than people think."
Bode looks down at Cal again. He is so slim, narrow and lean and like this, leaning casually against a wall with his arms folded loosely over his chest, he looks so unthreatening. He smiles. "I'm really not about to throw you over the ledge, Bode." He promises.
"Wouldn't stick." Bode manages. "Jetpack, remember?"
"I remember." Cal agrees. "The spiced caf is really good. You should come and have some."
He doesn't demand Bode's comm, or search him for bugs. He doesn't tell Bode to leave, to crawl back to his Imperial Masters with his tail between his legs. But Bode knows that he and Cere will be on guard, ready for anything that Bode might do, and two, possibly three fully fledged Jedi on watch means Bode is absolutely, categorically cornered.
The comm feels absolutely useless, a dead weight on his arm, and numbly, Bode puts his gloves back on, his stomach like lead and his heart still pounding against his ribs.
Cal leans up suddenly, and his lips brush the corner of his mouth, the softest of grazes, and oh if that doesn't make Bode's heart leap out of his chest all over again because no-one has shown him such open affection like that in such a long time. "Bode...?" Cal's smile is like sunshine once again, his warning given, his forgiveness already Bode's. "When you're ready, we'll go and get Kata."
Slowly, the shattered remnants of Bode's soul begin to knit themselves back together again.