Chapter Text
The rest of their time on Tanalorr is spent in a haze. A persistent ache presses against the back of Cal’s eyes, making him sensitive to the light and loud noises, but it hasn’t tipped over to a migraine, and loud is a rare thing on this too quiet, empty planet – except for Bode.
He isn’t some hidden, silent presence anymore. No, he’s the loudest thing out there. A klaxon that only Cal seems to hear.
Every time he reaches into the Force, whether it’s for some innocuous use to help Greez or if it’s to sit in meditation with Dagan’s lightsaber still raging and mourning and oh-so bitter in his hand, Bode is always, always there. He’s the loudness of the sea at night. The waves unseen but still heard, still felt as they boomcrash against the hull, rocking him to and fro.
And he knows he’s the only one who feels him like this – it’s bone deep, this connection that stretches between them from point-to-point, soul-to-soul. It feels old enough Cal wonders how he missed it. When did it form? When did this nebulous bond appear and tie them together? Did, Did Bode know it was there and hide it away just like he hid himself away, hoping it would fray, twist, snap the moment he died and Cal would be none the wiser to it? Left to wonder where this empty part of his soul came from.
(He wonders…If he’d known it existed. Could he have prevented all of this before it ever started? Maybe. Probably. Doubtful.
He shouldn’t be thinking about this. The what ifs will tear him apart.
But what if – )
Bode doesn’t leave the med suite at all due to his injuries – and also because he’s incredibly lucky he’s not cuffed to the cot with the only Force suppressing binders they have. It's unspoken, but everyone knows he’s too defeated to worry about him trying to pull something.
Cal keeps himself busy helping Greez and Kata with the Mantis, pretending his injuries are getting better even though he knows his family sees right through him, but they know if anyone tries to stop him it’ll end up ugly. Everyone’s ready to get off this damn planet that’s too quiet during the day. The nights grow colder. The stars stopped singing and started screaming. An uneasy miasma seeps from the ground and is ever present.
If Cal were sleeping, his nightmares would be unbearable, but he’s not sleeping so he’s okay.
The nights wear on Merrin and Kata though. Kata more so, still so young and untrained, unguarded for all that she’s been taught to close herself off. She’s so much brighter already than she’d been on Nova Garon and Cal can’t wait to see how much she shines when they leave the Abyss. Greez is lucky to avoid the worst of it.
Bode is just as bad off as Cal.
He doesn’t sleep either. His presence spreads through the ship at night instead, like a rolling morning fog. He checks on Kata first, of course. Then – surprisingly or maybe not – on Cal…until he realizes Cal is also awake and aware of him and he pulls back like he’s been burned.
When Cal closes his eyes and slips under the surface of the Force, Dagan’s kyber reduced to whimpers and sniffling, snaps of teeth and performative snarling, Bode is there too. Always and always there. Refusing to acknowledge they’re sharing the same ephemeral space but never leaving Cal’s side.
Bode’s presence gives him strength to keep trying after countless sessions and three days. It gives him a tether to cling to when the echoes grow darker and deeper and somehow even more personal.
It’s his guiding light when, one night, Cal digs too deep, too fast, and echoes of Dagan lash out, agony and rage tearing through him as fresh and potent as the day Santari said with horror and dismay and fear in her voice, she’s afraid of me (no, Dagan, she’s afraid for you) Dagan, what have you done?
Cal rocks out of meditation, half blind to the physical world. The lightsaber rolls out of his weak grip to under Cere’s cot, metal on metal banging together until it’s out of sight, the pain in his head sparking at every connection. He braces a hand on the floor to stand – and then slaps his other hand down to steady himself, staying exactly where he is as the world moves in a nauseating swirl of colors. Kark. He sucks in a sharp breath. His stomach heaves. A sweat breaks out as his skin grows feverish. Fucking fuck –
Coolness drapes over him, seeping into his skin, wrapping around him tightly. Cal sighs in relief, his muscles turning wobbly, and he just wants to sink down into this embrace that feels like he’s floating in a peaceful late, dappled light aglow on his face, wind in his hair, laughter in the distance.
He tips over, pressing his forehead to the floor. “Bode,” he murmurs softly. The presence stays the same, soothing and comforting, prodding the cracks the last week have left behind in his shields. Not that his shields have ever been that good. He leaves himself too open to echoes on purpose, something Master Vos would surely have judged him for, but even if he were to try now, he would fail. He’s too tired. Worn too thin. He’s putting too much of himself into, well, everything, but he doesn’t know any other way. He doesn’t know how to stop.
A tear slips out as he laughs softly, wrung out and seconds from a full breakdown he doesn’t have time for. It has to wait until they leave Tanalorr at least.
Cal climbs to his feet and leaves the room instead, using the wall to keep himself upright. The closer he gets to the med suit the more Bode’s presence starts to fade away. It tucks behind his equally ragged, cracked shields – what a pair they make – but it’s too late by far, because Cal stands at the doorway, one hand gripping the frame so tight it makes some of the fractures in his fingers split a little more.
Bode stares at him, looking as hollow as Cal feels.
For a long, agonizing moment, that’s all they do. Stare silently at each other as the Force quivers on the edge of something, something, something. Is this all they’re going to do? Stare until Bode looks away because Cal refuses to be the first. Bode will look away and Cal will go back to Cere’s room. That will be it, and everything will be a little worse for it.
It seems like it because the Force gives nothing away. Bode is loud, but he’s muddled, too many emotions, too much chaos, a dam broke and he’s drowning in all the things he shoved away and locked down tight, focused so hard on Kata and keeping her safe.
But then Bode sighs a sigh that moves his whole body and holds out his gloved hand invitingly. The other hand is split and wrapped, bruises peeking between bandages to match the ones on Cal face. Cal swallows thickly, shaky with relief, and all but collapses into the chair next to the bed, taking his hand and squeezing tightly.
They still say nothing, but maybe, just maybe, this is a step in the right direction.
Cal falls asleep – and he dreams of the sea.
—
When he wakes up, he’s no longer in the chair with Bode’s hand in his, but on the bed, curled up against something warm and solid and very-much breathing. He keeps his eyes closed. If he’s still dreaming, he doesn’t want it to end, please, please. There’s fingers in his hair and voices above him. One soft and giggly, the other low and warm, a little raspy. Cal hums under his breath and burrows deeper into Bode’s side, ignoring Kata’s laugh. Bode shushes her gently, amusement and fondness rippling outward, and shoos her off to go get breakfast.
( – and he remembers resting his head on Bode’s shoulder in the Saloon, insisting he wasn’t tired and was absolutely, one-hundred-percent ready to check on that raider encampment Mosey spotted, the lights are just a little too bright so he’s going to close his eyes for just a second. Then waking up to Bode shushing an excited Turgle, hissing at someone to shut him up before he woke Cal.)
He listens to Kata’s footsteps fade as he picks absently at a hole burned into Bode’s shirt, a bacta patch peeking through. It covers a blaster burn he couldn’t dodge in time, caught in the tail end of one of Cal’s Slows. He smooths his fingers over the edge of the patch, tracing the line between bandage and warm skin. Bode twitches under his touch as he sucks in a surprised breath, the hand in Cal’s hair finally falling away. He tries not to mourn the loss. Instead, he takes his own hand back and glances upward through his eyelashes, meeting Bode’s dark eyes, shadowed darker by the – light behind his head, most likely, but it’s more than that.
Bode lifts his hand. Cal watches him as he hesitates, a complicated series of expressions crossing his face, before he settles it on Cal’s cheek, thumbing gently under his eye where sleepless shadows sit. “Kata’s getting breakfast for all three of us,” he says, his voice sounds awful, like he’d been gargling priorite. “You haven’t been eating.”
Cal resists the urge to lean into the touch, but he doesn’t move away from it. “I have,” because Greez won’t allow anything otherwise.
“Not enough.”
He huffs and finally pulls away, gingerly unfolding from the warm space next to Bode, feeling every single one of his joints pop and all his injuries protest vehemently. “You don’t get to do that.”
Bode is silent for a long moment – “Do what?”
“Or that,” Cal says, frustrated. He sits on the edge of the bed, hands fisted on his knees, just so he can avoid looking at Bode all the easier. “You don’t get to care.” He’s being harsh, cruel even, he knows that, but he won’t lie that he gets some sick sort of satisfaction at the sharp noise Bode makes. The Force shudders, cloying and thick. “You tried to die. You tried to make me kill you.”
“I deserved it,” Bode says quietly.
There’s shame, in the Force, and guilt and regret – and a little bit of, of resentment too at Cal for being unable to go through with it.
Cal stands abruptly, hands still in fists, his heart in his throat. “I’m tired,” his voice cracks. He swallows thickly, throat burning, “of losing the people care about. What you – What you deserve?” He lets out a broken laugh that scraps out of him, turning around to face Bode. “And what does Kata deserve? Does she deserve to have her father broken and murdered in front of her?” Bode flinches. “Does she deserve being stuck with the man who killed him? This isn’t about what’s deserved. This is about you not being able to face the consequences of what you’ve done.”
Bode curls up small. Smaller than he’s ever seen him. “She’s strong. Stronger than me. She would’ve survived it.”
“What about me?”
“Cal,” he says softly, says like that’s enough, like he doesn’t understand why wouldn’t Cal survive just as well.
He scoffs then reaches into the Force and yanks on the bond between them, watches Bode flinch, his eyes widening as he sits up straighter, his lips parting around a gasp. Oh, so he didn’t know about it. Cal’s knees wobbly at the confirmation, but he stays standing. “I think it would’ve killed me too, Bode Akuna. Then where would Kata be? Your plan was a failure from the start because you made me love you.”
And I let myself fall in love.
Bode opens his mouth, but Cal doesn’t let him respond. He scrubs a hand over his eyes before tears can fall and he turns heel to stalk out of the room, his chest unbearably tight, his hands shaking.
He wants to disappear into Cere’s room, never to come out again, but, but, something drags him instead towards the main cabin, to the galley where Merrin and Greez are having a sharp conversation over simmering meat – and hat could either be about the meat itself because Greez still cooks it too much for Merrin’s liking or it could be able him – and Kata is determinedly balancing three plates.
She’s so focused on not dropping them and Cal’s vision is tunneling so badly, they almost run into each other at the doorway. He screeches to a stop just in time to avoid a collision and sidesteps to go around her, but she steps in front of him, eyes no longer on the plates but looking up, up, up at him with those dark eyes that remind him so much of her father. He steps to the other side – and she follows, the corner of her mouth quirking as she silently offers him a plate.
Cal shakes his head. “I’ll grab another from Greez.”
She narrows her eyes at him. “Will you?”
He laughs. “That’s where I was heading, but someone decided to dance instead.” He moves his feet in an awkward shuffle just to get her to laugh, and grins when she does, feeling lighter. “Give your dad my plate and make sure he eats it. Threaten him with Merrin if you have to, she’s getting restless.” It won’t be enough but freaking Bode out will probably make her happy.
Kata dumps the contents of the plate onto another with a firm not. “And after breakfast we’ll work on the hyperdrive like you said we would, right?” Her expression is hopeful as she hands him the now empty plate.
“Of course. I promised, didn’t I?”
Her smile dims. He wonders how many promises have been made to her, and how many of those fell through.
—
Koboh is alive in ways Tanalorr could never be.
Not just physically with the people and the creatures and plants and history and pure life, but also in the Force. there’s something warm in the center of it all, blazing brilliant hues that refract and reflect, pulsating with the beat of a million hearts of once was, what is, and what will be.
Cal wants to kneel in the center and bask in the glory of a living planet, but manages to keep himself centered and present, greeting the small welcoming party with a tight smile, a hand on Moran’s shoulder as the man squints in the bright sunlight and looks positively miserable. But he still gives Cal a nod and a mildly sardonic toast with his glass, and that he came out here at all warms Cal from the inside-out. Mosey hugs Merrin first of course, kissing her thoroughly before she throws herself at Cal hard enough he almost topples over. She squeezes him tightly, causing several of his injuries to flare, but he swallows down his grunt of pain and hugs her back.
Mosey leans away, both hands on his shoulder, and assesses him carefully before her gaze drift over his shoulder where Bode still stands on the ramp. Kata’s half hidden behind his leg, torn between her curiosity and the need to tuck herself small like she’s had to do for so long.
“You must be Kata!” Mosey says brightly, shuffling Cal to the side. “I heard a lot about you, little lady. Welcome to Koboh.”
Kata’s grip tightens on Bode’s pant leg before her father rests a hand on her back and steps to the side – Cal can feel his reluctance to do so in the Force, but no one else seems to catch it before Bode wrangles it away. “You’re Mosey,” she says softly.
“Right you are!” Mosey smiles brightly as her eyes flit up to Bode briefly before focusing back on Kata. “Someone’s been telling tales. Hear anythin’ else about me?”
“Papa said you watch over…nekkos. Can I see them?”
“Absolutely. C’mon. There’s a ma and her chick in the pasture right now.”
Kata’s eyes light up and her smile grows big enough to show teeth, squinting her eyes, It makes her look her age instead of the solemn, quiet child that haunts more than anything else. There had been glimpses of that brightness but never showcased as clearly as now.
Cal glances at Bode out of the corner of his eye in time to see the man’s expression soften, heartbreak and fondness fighting for dominance with the Force curled up small and weeping for the things that had been lost. He gently pushes her along when she doesn’t move at first. She has a bounce to her step as she takes Merrin’s offered hand and the three of them head towards to the barn, Mosey keeping up some good ol’ chatter.
After that they scatter. More or less.
Bode obviously doesn’t know where to go from here, eyes fixated on the direction of the barn, right arm cradled in his left in ease the strain on his shoulder. If they left him to his own devices, he’d probably stay out here ‘til the nekkos came home, and then beyond that if Kata didn’t come with them, but Greez and Moran bully him to the cantina with Doma plodding after them as she plans out loud where to put father and daughter, and Merrin if she decides to stay.
Not that Merrin has a choice right now. When they came out of the Abyss there was a message waiting for them. One from Cere telling them to avoid Jedha for the time being and that once the Empire’s interest in the immediate area lessened, she would send them coordinates to their new (but temporary) base. Until then, stay safe and be careful.
(Besides, Merrin will just stay with Mosey. That much is obvious.)
Cal presses a knuckle between his eyes, the Koboh sun wreaking havoc on his light sensitivity – which isn’t really a good sign, honestly, but he hasn’t seen any auras so he’s dealing – and turns to go back to the Mantis where it’s cool, dim, and familiar, fully intending on updating Cere (We’re all alive. Something’s wrong with Tanalorr. I don’t know what to do.) but when he steps towards the ramp, BD skitters in front of him, beeping a lecture he’s heard a thousand times from a dozen sources. Turn around right now and go to sleep. There are no nightmares here, BD claims, but they both know that’s not true.
But he sighs anyway, leans down so BD can jump into his arms, and turns back around towards the side door so he doesn’t have to deal with anyone else.
A nap does sound pretty good right now, he admits.
—
He doesn’t get his nap.
Instead, Cal stares at the bottom of the bunk above for what feels like hours until he gives up and hauls himself out of bed. The Force is one big cacophony of everything after dealing with Tanalorr for even a short time. It gives him a rush like no other, not even comparable to a stim, and the urge to do something is getting too difficult to ignore.
After a quick shower that leaves him feeling like a new man, he grabs his saber, and leaves BD-1 charging, to venture out into Koboh’s wilderness alone. He takes a quick tour around the Outpost, checking on prospectors who haven’t gone out today, catching up on any rumors that may have developed while he was gone. There’s one, about some raiders getting brave and taking over the riverbed watchtower again, that seems promising.
But when he swings wide around the barn – so he can avoid Merrin and Mosey because they both for sure will stop him, throw in Kata’s disappointed yet resigned look as well and he won’t stand chance – he stops, stiffening with his hand not quite on his saber hilt, when a boot crunches on stone.
Then waves lap at his feet, rising gently to his knees, and he’s wading through warm sea waters. He turns to see Bode half off a stoop of one of the empty buildings.
Well, not empty anymore, he guesses.
“Just goin’ for a walk?” Bode asks.
Cal grimaces. “Sure, we can call it that.”
The corner of Bode’s mouth quirks up in a smile that doesn’t reach his eyes as he steps up alongside him. There’s not a single weapon to be seen, his holsters left behind, his torn and blood stain shirt traded for something priorite blue. It’s not his color. Bode shoves his hands in his pockets and waits expectantly. Cal starts…walking. A little slower than before, with less of a purpose. Bode keeps stride. Neither of them speak.
They head towards the barn. The watchtower can wait.
—
And then everything goes back to normal!
If only.
Cal wakes up aching. He wakes with grit in his eyes. He wakes with his joints locked up and a heaviness in his limbs. It takes effort to haul himself out of bed every time.
But he does anyway.
He smiles and helps out around the cantina, around the outpost. A day here fixing up rundown walls. Another day here planting someone’s garden as they nurse a broken arm. Nekko watch at sunset. Dam fixing at sunrise.
He turns a corner, spots Bode, and sometimes he joins him in whatever he’s doing. Other times he turns heel and walks in the opposite direction. He hears Kata’s laughter on the wind. He feels Bode’s open ocean presence, and he tries not to drown.
Greez keeps him from leaving the cantina most days, insisting on his help in the kitchen that usually involves Cal sitting and shucking yambles – way more yambles than Greez actually needs so most of them end up being thrown to the nekkos and boglings even though Greez complains that feeding the boglings just make them appear more. Kata likes them, though, and Cal doesn’t have it in him to point out Greez throws out more fodder when the girl is hanging around the saloon.
His fingers are stained purple when he finally gets around to hunting down the raiders that are too close to the outpost’s boundary lines. Cal takes a tour around the High Republic structures, checking that the Imp patrols there aren’t getting too interested in them.
Most of the time, he finds himself wandering aimlessly between outpost buildings, practically begging people to let him play handyman please, anything, just give me something to do, and his headache from Tanalorr persists, his ribs hurt. He rolls his weak ankle going from one roof to another and he just about screams in frustration. He can’t sit still, but he can’t take a step without hurting, and.
Cal is tired.
Tired enough that when he slouches in one of the booths on the second level of the saloon where no one really goes unless they want to be alone and Bode wordlessly slips into the seat across from him, he doesn’t get up and leave even though today is just kind of a bad day overall. He just drops his head back, knocking it painfully against the wall, and lets out a sigh that movies his whole body.
Doesn’t flinch when he feels a booted foot nudge the side of his. Doesn’t pull away when it stays.
“Those raiders sure can hold a grudge,” he says to the ceiling.
Bode snorts. “I think that’s underselling it.” tap-tap-tap, boot against boot. Cal grins. “You took out their leader twice over and several of their lieutenants. I’d hold a grudge.”
Cal rolls his head, tilting it to look Bode in the eye. The cantina is quieter than usual, just past midday. Ashe and DD-EC are taking their normal break, most prospectors are back out in the wild, and the echoes up here, especially in these booths, are less. There’s a wild cheer from the holotactics room; Zee sounds like she’s having a good time.
“Do you hate me?” Cal asks – as if he doesn’t already know the answer. As if the bond between them isn’t bright and clear and always there, a noose around his neck, the beat of his heart, the breath in his lungs, the void in his chest.
Bode chokes on his drink. “What the hell, Cal?”
“Do you – “”
“No, no. I heard you.” Bode wipes his mouth, looking everywhere but at Cal, finally dropping his eyes to the drink now clutched between both hands, knuckles paling. “Fuck – Cal, I should be asking you that.”
Cal rolls his head back to its original position, so he doesn’t have to keep watching Bode. “I want to,” he admits. “But I can’t.” That’s a lie, actually. He doesn’t want to hate him. It feels like he should. He thinks if Cordova actually died, if Vadar got what he wanted then this darkness inside him, this rage, would be so much worse. That he might’ve lost himself entirely. “Do you think we could go back to something like before?”
Bode is quiet for a long, long time. Long enough Cal finally lifts his head to look at him.
Then, eventually, he murmurs, “I don’t know.”
“Do you want to?”
Bode’s spared from answering by Kata’s appearance. She carries a stack of plates, the top one piled high with sandwiches.
“Greez said he’ll know if you don’t eat,” Kata says – and she’s definitely been spending too much time with the old latero because the look of mild disappointment she gives him when he doesn’t reach for a sandwich immediately is way too reminiscent of Greez. She puts a plate in front of him and adds a couple sandwiches pointedly. “I’ll tell him.”
“Tattletale,” Cal teases, making her stern expression crack and she smiles, hopping up on the seat next to her dad. She holds up a sandwich without looking and Bode takes it, looking fond.
Cal takes a big bite of his, maybe too big, and tries not to look like he’s struggling to chew. They eat in silence. He kind of wishes it were more uncomfortable than it actually is. Would that make this easier or harder?
Kata focused on the story BD-1 is telling her. Cal and Bode sneak each other glances, sometimes their eyes catching, other times Cal stares for a little too long at the shadows under Bode’s eyes and the grease under his nails and the welts on his arms from his own helping around the outpost.
He wonders if Bode suspects the true reason Cal avoids the ground floor booths. ( – gotta be another away. always an angle. Always. lost a family, looking for a new one. um…I can relate, Cal – )
Bode’s echoes lay scattered beyond the Mantis. More than just casual everyday ones that are easy to ignore. Those fade naturally, sticking around for only a little while. Unless they’re habitual then they start to build up on each other. Bode has those too. Thoughts about blaster maintenance, the weather, about Monk’s mixing skills, about Kata, about Cal, but there’s more. So much more. Like Bode – Like Bode felt so much about so many things it couldn’t help but spill over into the Force.
To think he was able to hide so well that the echoes only appeared after he stopped trying so hard – after he stopped wanting to.
—
I don’t know.
I don’t know.
I don’t know.
—
In the end, Cal is a coward.
He tried to stick it out. Tried to coexist with the echoes, old and new, and Bode’s Force presence that’s somehow becomes more every day. He threw himself into the wilds of Koboh, took up his blade against raiders and Imps and aggressive wildlife. Anything to keep himself from those echoes that glitter like sea glass under the sun, echoes as enticing as the stripe of skin bared between Bode’s gloves and his sleeves.
But, after weeks of basking in the sun and learning her way around the cantina’s kitchen and the nekko barn and being taught how to throw an axe, Kata makes an idle comment about school which slides into a quiet wonder about friends her age. Bode’s face gave nothing away, but the Force. Oh, but the Force spilled everything.
And then “Hey, Cal, can we talk?”
So, the moment Cere finally made contact and sent the coordinates to their new base, Cal asked Merrin to come with – and there must’ve been something on his face because she near as dropped everything to do so, and, and,
He runs.
He runs to Jedha. First to the new base but then is directed to the devastated Archive that has echoes of Bode still, of course, because it would be too kind to be anything otherwise.
There’s less in the backrooms that have dusted over and stagnated, where Bode never went because it was too far from Cere (too far from Cal maybe, hopefully, one could dream) then, well, no one needs to know. And it doesn’t matter that they already do. No one dares to bring it up. Not yet anyway.
The Archive Cere built is no small thing even after being ravaged by the Empire. They weren’t interested in the artifacts or the holobooks or scrolls, just the Jedi themselves, so many things were left untouched. Cal still hasn’t fully talked to Cere about how off Tanalorr was, but she agreed to wait until she was well enough, and everything was more under control before she would visit herself to decide if it truly was a good idea to relocate there. For now, they catalogue what they have and what they lost.
Cal puts everything he's got into it. Letting the thoughts and emotions that have been plaguing him fall away in the face of gauzy echoes of times long past and Cere’s rawka-scratch labeling for some of the more esoteric pieces.
Everyone’s worried about him still.
And it’s – he’s worried about him too. But he doesn’t slow down. Slowing down will just make him stop and if he stops then he’s pretty sure he won’t get started again.
Kata needs friends. She needs to go to school and live a good life. Koboh doesn’t have that. There aren’t any children in the Outpost – not anymore. Any families packed right up the moment a Star Destroyer showed up in the sky and never left. If they had stayed, Kata could be in classes with them, and, and Bode could be their teacher, like he had been back on Birren between harvests.
Bode needs – to not be around Cal.
He’s still reeling from that conversation.
I don’t know who I’m supposed to be anymore. I’m afraid – I’m afraid that everything I do will be because of you. That I’m going to try to mold myself into something you want instead of what I need to be for myself, for Kata.
And Cal had been so confused, hurt even. I'm not asking for that.
You’re not. But, Stars, Cal, why wouldn’t I do everything I could to have you look at me like you did before? You don’t. It’s close, but you don’t. But I don’t want whatever I become to be some false version just for you. Neither of us want what was before. That’s not fair.
You –
I had nothing after Tayala, but now I have, I have the Path. I don’t have any right to it, but for Kata’s sake, I’m going to take Merrin up on her offer..
Cal gets it, but – If you go, you won’t come back. No one else has.
Bode had nothing to say to that. There were no interruptions this time. He’d opened his mouth, then closed it, pressing his lips in a thin line, and looked away. Which made it worse.
It’s not right for Cal to ask so much from him, but that doesn’t stop it from hurting.
So, he stays in the ravaged Archive, tucked in the rooms Bode never ventured so he doesn’t have to face any echoes. The good and the bad. Hidden from the main room where they planned, where they laughed, where Bode set off the grenade that nearly killed Master Cordova in his escape. There are other places Bode went, of course. But Cal has yet to run into one this deep into the Archive’s backrooms.
He sighs as he rolls an ornamental orb between his palms. It’s styled after the ones that control the doors and various holy sites out in the desert, but it’s too lightweight for that use. It’s light and fragile, admiration seeps into his skin from it, the sense of passing from hand to hand, mantle on a fireplace to a pedestal in a small display case to tucked in a trunk. It help up well after all this time, only a broken section someone fixed with gold. He thumbs over the web of gold before he packs it up, the last of the items from this small room. Cal marks the crate then stretches, spine popping.
Cal slumps as he rubs his eyes. He’s finished the room Cere assigned him, but he doesn’t want to be done.
The sound of BD trilling catches his attention, and he looks over just in time to see the droid scamper out of a small tunnel that leads to who-knows-where.
He offers a tired smile. “Hey, buddy. Find anything interesting?”
BD-1 had abandoned him a couple hours ago, claiming the room Merrin is packing away to be way more interesting than his. The little droid beeps and whistles, hustles back to the little tunnel to pull out one of those scrolls Sister Taske is so interested in and then proceeds to tell him everything as they make their way down to the next floor. Cal can tell by the shakiness in his hands and the weakness in…well, everything, that’s he’s neglected eating for too long.
—
And then, once again, he tries.
He tries to stay on Jedha long enough to miss Bode and Kata’s departure, offering up the Mantis to Merrin so she can head back to Koboh and deliver their future without him so he doesn’t have to, to say goodbye.
Cal doesn't know if he could look Bode in the eye and let him go when he so desperately needs to be let go. To be free for the first time since…when. Since the Order fell, since Tayala died, since he gave himself to Denvik. Cage bars stacking up in each other, the leash growing tighter. Nowhere to run. Nowhere safe. He hopes the Path can give him that security. A new name. A quiet planet. Kata some friends. Bode some way to heal.
He tries. But the Force decides no.
“Do all Jedi treat themselves as unkindly as you do?”
Cal hunches, hand curled into a shaking fist. Sweat cools uncomfortably between his shoulder blades. He can still hear the echo of Bode’s laughter in his ears, the ghost of the real thing. Maybe even more than that. Did he ever hear the real thing?
( – Cal trips over a bogling eating a yamble scraps. Kata giggles, Bode snorts. He uses sugar instead of salt and Bode laugh-chokes at the taste, at Kata’s expression, and Greez’s rant. He straightens up from fixing a roof, wiping his forehead, smearing dirt and crud. Bode laughs at him instead of throwing him a rag, doesn’t even tell him until later that night, hand on his shoulder, some brightness in his eyes.
It’s a natural progression, coming out of the fog, feeling like you can breathe again. It happens once, and then it happens again.
So yes. Yes, he heard the real thing and it’s remarkably close to the same laugh Bode had before all this, when it was just the two of them and there was something so real about him in those small moments – )
Sister Taske is kind enough to not comment on his lack of response. “Master Junda is looking for you.”
He lets out a breath and nods, and tacks on a quiet, “Thank you,” because even with the turmoil in his head and his heart, he can still be polite.
Sister Taske turns to walk away, only to hesitate before they can fully commit. “Knight Kestis.” Cal straightens up, rolling his shoulders until something pops. “This is about…Bode Akuna, yes?”
“Is it that obvious?” he asks with a self-deprecating smile even as the tips of his ears start to burn, mortified that it might actually be that obvious. It’s one thing for his family to notice, but for anyone else? Force, he’s pathetic.
“Perhaps not to all,” Sister Taske says. He knows them well enough to hear the amusement in their voice. “But you have spent too long at my counter for me to not see through your mask. Why do you run?”
You keep running, Merrin had said.
Cal’s eyes are drawn back to the echo swirling on the countertop. Bode’s voice low and warm as he tells Cal a story about some time he spent freelancing. He laughed so hard he nearly tipped out of his chair, caught by Bode’s hand on his arm and yanking him upright with too much force and toppling Cal in the opposite direction, their chests pressed together, their nose tip-to-tip, and Bode’s low laughter sharing space with Cal’s.
“I don’t know,” Cal tells them.
I want to be the one who leaves first for once, he thinks bitterly.
If he goes back to Koboh and Bode is gone, then it doesn’t matter because Cal left him behind first.
Sister Taske dips their head and says an “I see” that sounds more like I think you do know. Cal flushes as he rubs the back of his neck. “Master Junda is in the alcove on the ridge.”
Cal thanks them again before beating a hasty retreat. The Force dances in merry amusement that temporarily overrides the concern Sister Taske has for him, then both emotions fade in the background, taken up by the itch in the back of his mind that’s been his and Bode’s bond nudging at him since the Mantis reappeared in real space. For it to stretch this far and still be noticeable, the strength of it scares Cal, but he can’t help but be relieved by it.
—
Cere is exactly where Sister Taske said she’d be. Solid and grounded in the ever-shifting sands of Jedha.
“We haven’t had the chance to talk,” she says apologetically.
Cal shrugs as he sidesteps the long-cold fire – it looks like no one has used the pit since that last night before the Empire came – and joins her at the wall, leaning against it and looking out into the desert. The sun is setting, and the wind is cold, but Cere is warm, pressed shoulder to shoulder with him. It’s Cal’s fault they haven’t talked and Cere didn’t push. Now, though, she leans a little more on him, and says gently, “Talk to me, Cal.”
“I’ve been trying to purify Dagan’s kyber,” he says, blurts out past the emotions bubbling in his chest. He can feel Cere’s surprise. “It’s been both harder and easier than I thought it would be. I want…I want to give it to Bode,” he admits softly.
“A difficult feat, but an admirable one. How far have you gotten?”
Cal runs a hand through his hair. “Far, I think. I’m just stuck.”
“Merrin told me of Bode’s desire to walk the Path.” Cere reaches over and rests a hand on his forearm. “I understand what happened between us hurt you, but that never my intention. I always thought we would come together again. And we did.”
“I came to you,” Cal point out bitterly. “I came to Greez.. I didn’t even know Merrin was in contact with you until I came to Jedha. None of you – ,” he swallows down the ghost of anger and hurt, taking a deep breath. He understands why. He truly does. “I knew where you and Greez were. I had Merrin’s contact. Bode walks the Path and I’ll, I won’t know any of that. He won’t come back.”
“You don’t know that.”
“No one ever does,” Cal says, the words scraping his throat raw. “I lose everyone, one way or another, and I’m always left behind.” A few outpost residents have been making some noise about leaving Koboh, the Star Destroyer not helping anyone’s nerves. Cal has been working overtime to make the place safe and comfortable, but it’s not enough. It never is.
“Cal,” Cere says softly. “No one ever truly leaves us. They’re with the Force in all ways and the Force is with you.” She takes his hand, tugging it until they’re facing each other. Over her shoulder, he spots an echo – one he’s been ignoring since he stepped foot on the ridge. It glitters in the sunset, pretty and enticing, and he can feel the cool ocean breeze from here. She squeezes his hand. He looks back at Cere. “We both needed to go our own ways, but what you’ve taught me, what we had learned together, helped me keep going.”
“I think that’s supposed to be my line. You’re the Master.”
She smiles. “A true master learns from those they teach or they else are no master at all.” Cere’s expression grows serious. “I’m truly sorry for how everything went down, but I think we both will be better for it in the end.”
It’s nice that she doesn’t say are better for it. There is no current, no present. Just the future.
A future without Bode. A future with this bond between them anyway, one that won’t fade by distance or time.
“What do I do?”
“Have faith,” she says, hands on his cheeks, eyes kind. “Trust in the Force.”
Cal blinks against the sting of tears and pulls back to wipe his cheeks. Cere lets him, waiting patiently for him to pull himself together.
“Do you want my help in the last step?” she asks after a moment, gesturing to the extra saber on his hip.
He rests a hand on it, the echoes soft and hazy, whittled down to the tender, happier memories before Tanalorr.
“I think I got it now,” he says. His eyes are drawn again to the echo on the wall, just a couple feet away.
Cere smiles proudly. “I’ll leave you to it.”
—
Cal finds Bode on the roof supervising Kata and Pili as the two of them decide which plants would be best for the girl to take with her. Koboh’s bright sun has brought out the undertones of Bode’s hair, browns and bronze like a deep, dark abyss, and Cal hooks a hand on his belt, the other in his pocket, to keep himself from running his hands through it.
His arrival isn’t quiet. Bode’s shoulders curl up, then drop, heaving as he takes a deep breath.
“I thought you were still out in the wilds?” Bode says easily, like the bruises under his eyes haven’t deepened from sleepless nights since Merrin and Cal came back to Koboh, Merrin holding Bode’s future in her hand.
“I was, but I found what I was looking for quicker than I expected.”
Bode doesn’t have a response to that. Any ease gained between them in the weeks since Tanalorr fell apart the moment the words “Hey, Cal, can we talk?” were uttered. Cal is content with the silence though, the awkwardness, it just means it’s real and that’s all that matters.
He watches BD-1 scurry around Kata’s legs as she bounces from garden plot to garden plot, asking rapid-fire questions about localized care for whichever plants she picked. Pili and Kata’s combined emotions infuse the Force with joy and delight, lulling Cal into a warm sort of security. He sways into it, eyes falling half-shut, and he glances at Bode through his lashes to see the man tense and uncomfortable despite his own presence in the Force meaning he can feel them too, he just won’t let himself fall into the cradle of it.
Cal sighs and straightens up, runs a hand through his hair before finally, finally – “Here.”
Bode stiffens, eyes on Dagan Gera’s lightsaber being held out for him. When Bode doesn’t take it, Cal huffs and reaches for his hand, ignoring the way Bode tries to tuck it behind his leg and away from him. He’s not wearing gloves, and Cal takes a selfish moment to admire them up close, something he hasn’t had the chance to do. Thick fingers, wide palms, small, faint scarring. They’re bigger than Cal’s. Rough from years of hard work even with the protection. Cal flips his hand over, and his palm has a large scar splashed across it, old and long healed, but gnarled and deep enough Cal wonders about the sensitivity. He places Dagan’s saber in Bode’s hand then gently curls his fingers over the hilt so they’re both holding onto it.
“I know you don’t want it,” he says before Bode can open his mouth. A muscle twitches in his cheek as he continues to stare at the saber in their combined grip. Cal doesn’t make him look at him, just keeps his voice low. “But I think you should take it. Who knows what you’ll run into. And it doesn’t matter if you never end up using it, if you just shove it into a box and never look at it again, just…take it. It’ll make me feel better.”
Bode lets out a shaky breath. “I don’t want that screaming…” He swallows.
Cal shakes his head. “No, listen. There’s no screaming.”
He presses his thumb over Bode’s, and the brilliant white light of stars sings to life as the blade ignites. Bode stares at it with a soft undercurrent of awe and fear rippling in the Force. Cal doesn’t look down at the result of his efforts. He just watches Bode with a small, soft smile that’s also undeniably a little sad. Does he hear Cal in its song? His hopes and wishes and wants for Bode’s happiness, his security, his future. His hope and wish and want for Bode to come back to him some day.
There’s tears in Bode’s eyes when he looks up and catches Cal’s expression. He blinks, and they don’t fall, but his eyelashes clump and stick together. “Cal,” he says, and it sounds close to shattering.
“When you’re ready to come back,” because he wants to believe in when not if, “you know where to find me.” Cal smiles brighter and lets go of Bode’s hand slowly until it’s only him holding onto the hilt. “May the Force be with you,” he offers sincerely and without expectation.
Bode’s chin trembles and he stays silent, tears at the corner of his eyes that Cal pretends he doesn’t see. He keeps his smile as he goes over and helps Kata choose her last seedpod.
—
A week turns into a month. Months turns into years.
Bode doesn't come back.
But that’s okay. Cal is willing to wait as long as he needs to.
—
—
—
And after three years, there is a call on a secure line.
No one is there to pick it up, but the notification blinks and blinks and blinks message waiting. Cal spots it immediately when he enters the Mantis, a cut on his cheek, a bounce to his step. Merrin and Mosey bicker good-naturedly behind him, sliding more into flirting territory as the seconds go by. BD-1 hops off his shoulder to boost over to the holotable and hits the button for them.
Everything goes still as the message plays, the voice on the other end familiar. It shakes, the words breathless and thick with suppressed tears.
“This is Starling to Mantis,” she says, pauses as she hiccups. She takes a deep, shuddering breath. “Ghost Star’s been taken. I repeat: Ghost Star’s been taken. Please help us. I don’t – I don’t know what to do. Merrin. Cal. Please.”