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"I bet Cordova can fix this up," Cal says as he takes the compass from Bode's suddenly numb hands. "Let's head back to Jedha."
"Sure," Bode says after hesitating for too long. Cal has one part right - they do need the compass fixed. But he's wrong about everything else.
Still, there's time - maybe just enough time - to convince Cal it's safer to keep Tanalorr for them and not open it up to the whole kriffing galaxy. It just takes one person to ruin it for everyone, as Bode can easily prove.
He makes up a lie about looking for a manual. He needs a moment to regroup, to think about what he needs to say to get Cal to listen, instead of thinking about that terrible hallucination Dagan caused.
(The part of the vision Bode will tell Cal, if pressed: Kata, in her room, stormtroopers coming for her. And...the other part, that Bode will keep to himself, another secret to choke on: Cal, lying dead in Bode's arms, Tanalorr a smoking wreck around them.)
"Bode-" Cal stops and coughs, pressing a hand to the burn mark on his chest. Dagan must've gotten a good hit in while Bode was too busy witnessing his worst nightmares in vivid detail.
"We'll figure it out," Cal manages to say on a gasp. He lifts his arm and starts coughing uncontrollably into it.
"Shit, Cal," Bode swears, hurrying to his side. He can see the wound better from this angle, and it's not good.
“I don’t…feel great,” Cal says, wavering on his feet.
“That’s an understatement, Scrapper,” Bode says, catching him around the waist just as Cal starts crumpling towards the floor. “Hey, easy now, stay with me.” He carefully lays Cal down on the ground while BD scans and beeps worriedly.
“Lightsabers…cauterize,” Cal says, sounding dazed.
“Yep,” Bode agrees, carefully pressing a hand to the burn as he tries to gauge its depth and degree. “But a wound this deep, there’s still going to be internal damage, even if you’re not bleeding out.”
“Great,” Cal says weakly, and lets out another hacking cough.
“BD-1?” Bode asks quietly. “How deep can you scan?”
BD beeps an answer and switches to a deeper scan.
“You’re going to be all right, understand?” Bode says to Cal, adjusting him so that his head is on Bode’s thigh instead of the hard floor.
“Mhmm,” Cal manages before passing out.
“BD,” Bode presses. BD spins up a holo-model of Cal and the damage. Bode winces. The wound is deep, deeper than he’d hoped. If they had a med droid, or a bacta tank…but they don’t.
The nightmare vision passes in front of his eyes for a moment, but Bode roughly blinks it away. He will not allow that to happen.
“Give me a couple stims,” Bode commands. BD complies, then bwoops worriedly.
“I’m not giving Cal both,” Bode reassures him. “One’s for me. Now, can you check the nearby rooms, and see if any of the dead raiders have any bacta patches on them?”
BD lets out a concerned whistle.
“Nothing’s going to happen to Cal while you’re gone,” Bode promises. “I’m going to give him a stim and disinfect that wound. He’s not dying on us, not if I can help it." And I can, Bode thinks before realizing, I’ve really fucked up, haven’t I? Broken the Jedi Code and the spy handbook all in one swoop. I’ve become attached, and therefore compromised.
BD, ignorant of his internal monologue, beeps at Cal and lightly taps his shoulder before sprinting to check the other rooms.
“Okay,” Bode exhales. “Let’s do this.”
It’s easy - easier than it should be, perhaps - to reach out with the Force. Even in sleep, Cal’s Force presence is a warm, inviting blanket. Bode slides under it, prodding Cal towards deeper sleep before switching his attention to the chest wound.
It’s been years since he’s Force-healed anyone besides himself. The last was Kata, when she was just a baby and gravely ill. The local med-droids and healers had suggested taking her to the specialty clinics on Coruscant and praying for a miracle. Bode had always believed in making your own miracles, and while he had no desire to work in the Halls of Healing, he didn't ignore his innate aptitude for it either. Use all tools at your disposal, Denvik and the other trainers always said.
But a burn, and from a lightsaber at that...it's been even longer since he healed one of those.
“Focus,” Bode mutters to himself, and gets to work. Cal’s right; lightsabers cauterize. So he starts deeper, on the subcutaneous tissue, encouraging it to heal. He also repairs damaged blood vessels and does what he can for Cal’s bruised ribs.
Then, carefully, Bode starts unfusing Cal's skin from his shirt, using the Force to gently part the two. He's glad he carries disinfecting wipes, as he can wipe down every newly revealed bit of skin to protect it from infection.
He does more than he expected. Once he reluctantly untangles himself from Cal’s Force presence and firmly slides his shields back into place, he almost collapses. He catches himself on one hand and reaches for the stims BD-1 left. He injects himself first, then Cal, before succumbing to gravity and lying down next to Cal.
“Shit,” Bode says aloud, and tries to stay awake.
Luckily, it’s not long before he hears frantic, familiar beeping. “Hey,” Bode says, rolling over so he can see BD scurrying towards them. The roll also brings him closer to Cal, who lets out a groan as the stim finally kicks in.
“See?” Bode tells BD. “He’s still with us.”
BD whistles, no longer frantic but still concerned.
“That makes no sense,” Cal says, still breathing a little hard.
“Did you hit your head too?” Bode asks. He’s feeling awful sleepy. Maybe BD gave him a sugar stim. Jokes on him, though, because he'll have to check Cal for a concussion if Bode passes out.
“No,” Cal says, panting a little as he tries to sits up. “BD thinks I’ve somehow drastically improved in fifteen minutes.”
“They must be good stims. Though,” Bode pauses to yawn, “I think I got a dud.”
“They’re exactly the same,” Cal says with a frown.
“Yeah, yeah,” Bode says. “I think it’s my turn to pass out for fifteen minutes and then drastically improve.”
BD beeps angrily.
“I don’t know what to tell you,” Bode says. “Cal probably has some secret Jedi healing trick he can use even when unconscious.”
“I don’t,” Cal insists. “Although…I feel like...almost like a Jedi healer saw me.” He’s still frowning. “Dagan is dead, right?”
Bode wants to laugh, so bad. “Yeah, Scrapper, Bacta Breath is still dead.” He forces himself to sit up so he can gently knock his shoulder into Cal’s. “I think unconscious Jedi healing is more plausible than that.” He should draw back, but it suddenly seems like too much work. He lets his head drop to rest on Cal’s shoulder.
“BD,” Cal says suspiciously, “You did give Bode the same stim you’d give me, right?”
BD-1 lets out an offended whistle.
“Well,” Cal huffs, “If the stims work for me, why not Bode - oh.”
“Oh?” Bode mumbles.
“The stims work for me.” Cal says.
“We’ve established that,” Bode says drowsily.
“Yeah, and you're lot a taller and broader than me. You should take another one.”
“Alright.”
BD throws one, but neither of them make a move to catch it. BD lets out - a huff, there’s no other way to describe it.
“I didn’t know you could huff in binary,” Bode mumbles.
“Neither did I,” Cal murmurs. “BD, could you - yeah, thank you, buddy.”
Cal wraps an arm around Bode, and he’s confused until he feels the sting of the injection against his neck.
“Thanks,” Bode exhales as Cal tosses away the empty stim.
“You’re welcome,” Cal says quietly. His arm is still wrapped around Bode.
“We should probably go,” Bode says, rubbing at his eyes. He can feel the stims running through his system now, slowly kicking in.
“We should,” Cal agrees, but he doesn’t move his arm and Bode doesn't move his head.
It's...nice, to just sit like this. It can only be his imagination - his shields are too high for it to be true - but he could swear he still feels Cal's Force presence, wrapping around them both like a warm hug while BD lovingly lectures them on the dangers of over-using stims.
Bode has to figure out a way to make Cal see reason regarding Tanalorr. He doesn't want to give this up - give Cal up. When push comes to shove, everything, always, is for Kata. But there is room within that. Room for soft moments like this, room for all their coy looks, lingering touches, and teasing remarks. Room for Cal, period.
He will find a way. Later. For now, he takes a deep breath and soaks in the moment.