#boglings | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

stardustandash · 11 months

Text

the path forward is paved in history - Jedi Fallen Order & Survivor

Summary: Through the years Cal has had more Masters than most Jedi. Each one of them has a different lesson for him to learn about fear, anger, and obsession.

Word Count: 5,972

Tags: angst, introspection, spoilers for both games

This one is inspired by Down the Line by @breakfastteatime and this adorable art by @skynapple

If you prefer reading on ao3 this is the link! (Note it is locked to registered users only)

Cal is eleven years old when he meets Master Tapal. The Lasat looms over him with an expressionless face for a long time before he agrees, without any fanfare, to take him on as a padawan. The sun is shining over the Coruscant temple and yet all Cal feels is the fear of leaving his crèchemates and heading off into the unknown with a Master he does not know. He doesn’t even get the chance to say goodbye before he’s on Master Tapal’s Venetor-class cruiser, the Albedo Brave, surrounded by newly minted clones and thrown into a war beyond his understanding.

The first few days on the Brave are spent learning every nook and cranny of the ship. Its new enough that Cal can’t sense echoes off the bulkheads or the door controls yet, and that kind of freedom after being so careful around the temple and its immense history is almost intoxicating. The only downside is Master Tapal himself. While Cal is thankful to have a Master, he’d always hoped for someone with prestige, like Master Kenobi or Master Yoda. Sometimes in the dead of night he’d hope for a Master who would understand his psychometry personally, but there was nothing to indicate there was anyone else with his power connected to the temple. So Master Tapal it is. And he could not imagine a stricter Master. Any time Cal was within earshot of him there were questions on Jedi teachings, or drills to be run in the practise room. By the end of the first week Cal is more sore and tired than he’s ever been before.

By the end of the first month he’s heading into active combat and starts to understand why Master Tapal has him going over exercises every day. At his side are Glow squadron, his very own squad of clones that he has trained beside for weeks. The gunship rattles as they fly down through the atmosphere on a planet Cal can’t remember the name of, only that it was full of forests and clear lakes. All he can think of is how every drill he’s ever run through in the practise room is leaking out of his ears. Probably visibly. Unlike the clones he doesn’t have the safety of a helmet to hide his expression behind.

“Don’t worry kid, we’ve got your back,” says Sunny as he places a hand on his shoulder.

The weight of it grounds Cal somewhat, even as the ship lurches around gunfire. He offers a weak smile in thanks.

“Don’t make promises you can’t keep,” says Twitch, the leader of Glow squadron.

The grounded feeling vanishes along with the hand on his shoulder. Cal feels the fear creeping into him with cold fingers as the ground looms closer and closer. He wonders, briefly, if he should have insisted on staying at Master Tapal’s side and foregone leading his own men.

“Sixty seconds to landing,” announces the pilot over the ship comm.

Cal grips his handle a little tighter, his other hand moving towards the hilt of his lightsaber. He could do this. Maybe. The ship landed hard, then the doors were sliding open and Cal was following the rush of his men out and into the active battlefield.

Blaster bolts bounce off his lightsaber, every hit jarring against the bones of his wrists. Live rounds were nothing like the training bolts they used in practise. The droids are close, and getting closer. There are more of them then there are clones, and Cal is a singular entity alone on the battlefield. The lone Jedi. He can hear the droids barking orders to aim for him and senses the clones closing ranks around him. Someone behind him lets out a choked scream but Cal can’t force himself to turn and see who it was. All he knows is the parry of his lightsaber and the desperate scramble for cover behind the trees. He doesn’t think to comm Master Tapal that he’s pinned down and won’t make it to the meeting point. He doesn’t think to check in with his squad. All he can do is feel the adrenaline flowing through him to the beat of his pounding heart.

Someone else falls with a gasp and suddenly Cal can’t stand to stay hidden and wait for death to find him. He lurches out from cover and away from the grasping hand that tries to pull him back down.

“Commander, no!”

Cal barely hears the shout. He dashes forward with his ‘saber raised and launches himself into the closest droids. They fall to pieces beneath his blade. Some of them shriek in an almost humanoid way, but Cal doesn’t falter. He can’t. He swings and parries until the droids are falling back and he is panting with the effort it takes to keep standing.

Then he hears the rumble. Its low at first, then builds. For a moment Cal is sure he will feel the tremor of an earthquake, but instead through the lines of retreating droids come two rolling spheres. The droids close rank behind them, marching back for another attack. His breath catches in his throat as the spheres unravel into droids, thicker than the B-1s and with four blasters each. An energy field surrounds them and Cal doesn’t know what to do.

Cal watches as their photoreceptors lock onto him and their blasters spin into a ready position. He can hear Twitch yelling for him to get back into cover, but he can’t quite get his body to move. He is frozen, as if his blood has turned to ice. These droids are going to kill him. He knows this as he knows his hair is red. Red like the blood that’s about to paint the once serene landscape.

“Padawan, down!”

A voice echoes across the landscape, and Cal has spent the last month learning to listen to that voice no matter how tired and sore he was. He drops to the ground, getting a face full of dirt for the move even as red blaster bolts explode off the trees above him. He pushes himself up to his elbows and stares at the broad back of Master Tapal.

It was like watching something out of one of the old stories in the archives, from when the Jedi were the heroic figures from legend. Master Tapal stands with his lightsaber lit at both ends and without looking back at he takes on the rolling droids effortlessly, using the Force to augment his attack in the way Cal’s never quite been able to grasp. It is over before Cal has the thought to get himself off the ground and he ends up being hauled to his feet by Sunny. His legs don’t quite want to support him as the adrenaline leaves his system and he finds himself clinging to the clone for support as Master Tapal finishes the fight and comes over to them. He lowers himself to one knee in front of Cal, bringing him closer to eye level but still looming far above him.

“Are you hurt?” he asks.

His voice is not filled with concern, but neither is it uncaring. Cal finds the cadence soothing. It means that Master Tapal will take control of the situation, that he doesn’t have to worry anymore.

“No,” says Cal. “I don’t think so.”

Master Tapal eyes a spot on Cal’s arm and when he drops his eyes to look he sees a singed hole in his sleeve. There’s no pain, so he doesn’t think he’s actually hurt, but it surprises him nonetheless.

“Good. Now, Padawan, report.”

Cal gives his halting report, which is supplemented greatly by Sergeant Twitch. They lost Barrel and Oya in the fight. Gamut was injured. They did not reach their objective, although the droids have retreated off-world for now. Through it all Master Tapal listens with his impassive face, and at the end simply orders that the fallen be given the dignity of a burial and the rights of the dead.

As the clones honour their fallen brothers Cal stands to the side. It’s his fault that they died. If only he was a better commander, or didn’t freeze when the droids attacked. If only he had insisted on going with Master Tapal.

“You are thinking too loudly,” says the Master in question as he comes to stand and watch beside Cal.

“I’m sorry.”

“Do not apologize. Tell me what is on your mind.”

“It’s my fault they died. I know we aren’t supposed to feel fear, but I was so scared Master. And I couldn’t remember all our drills, and then the big rolling ones came out and-“

“Breathe, Cal,” says Master Tapal.

Cal takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly, like he does for meditation.

“Everyone feels fear. What you must do is learn your fear, and face it. That is what it means to be a Jedi; to feel the fear and be able let it go.”

“But how do I do that?” asks Cal, feeling lost.

There is something soft about the expression on Master Tapal’s face. He isn’t sure if it is amusement or fondness, but it loosens part of the knot in Cal’s chest.

“I have something to show you,” says Master Tapal. “Come.”

Master Tapal starts walking away into the forest. Cal shoots one last glance back at what remains of his squad before following. He has to jog to keep up with Master Tapal’s long, striding steps and try his best to avoid the twisting roots that break through the uneven ground. They travel in silence, and somewhere along the way Cal starts wondering more about where they are going than what they are leaving behind. Eventually, as the sky begins to darken, they come out at the edge of the forest near one of the planet’s lakes. It’s turning a deep blue in the twilight, and the waters reflect the lights of a distant village. Master Tapal leads him along the shoreline to the edge of the village. As they approach Cal can hear the sounds of music and laughter. The shift from the solemnity of the clones mourning their brothers is jarring, but Master Tapal doesn’t seem to notice.

As they near the edge of the village Cal can see that they’re having some kind of fair or celebration. There are streamers and garlands of branches woven in between houses and the smell of sweets and alcohol clouds over the streets. He takes it all in with a sense of awe, until two hands seize him about his middle and lift him high off the ground. For a moment he struggles, then he stops as he is placed carefully on Master Tapal’s broad shoulders. From here he can look over the celebrations without getting caught up in the crowd, or bump into anything that might set off his psychometry. The gesture is thoughtful, and Cal feels the dim warmth of affection through the Force.

“What are they celebrating?” asks Cal once he’s secure and Master Tapal begins walking the streets.

“They are celebrating that the Seperatist forces have been driven away from the planet.”

Cal can see how that would be a cause for celebration if he lived here, but his thoughts linger on Barrel and Oya, who had given their lives to make it happen.

“They have experienced loss as well, Padawan, that is why they asked the Republic for assistance.”

“But Barrel, and Oya...”

“They knew the risk of battle, and died honourably,” says Master Tapal. “However, that is not the lesson we are here to learn.”

Master Tapal keeps walking, his steps smooth from Cal’s perspective, and they are drawn into the crowd.

“Your fear made you freeze today because you did not know the reason you are fighting. Fear is an instinct, it is found in every living being in the galaxy. However, if you have something to fight for, a reason to choose to pick up your lightsaber, then it is much easier to face that fear.”

Cal looks around at the life surrounding them in the village, of the people dancing arm in arm, or laughing over jokes, or the few children that race underfoot with delighted shrieks, and soaks in Master Tapal’s words. He thinks he understands. Bravery in battle is not the product of experience, but rather the knowledge that things will be worse for others if he lets the fear take over.

Cal is eighteen years old when he meets Cere. He is no longer a padawan, and that’s okay, because she’s no longer a Jedi. Not really. There just two remnants of a lost faith who’ve found each other and are trying to claw back some shred of their people from the Empire. At first Cal doesn’t understand why she needs him, or rather why she needed another Jedi. She’s strong, capable, and has a level head, all traits he associated with Master Tapal.

It’s not until the Force starts to curl itself around him once more that he feels the darkness simmering below the surface. It’s one thing for her to tell him she gave into the dark side, it’s another to have it buzzing in the background whenever Cere is in the room. Still, she hides it admirably, and tries to impart what knowledge of the Jedi she still possesses when she can. Cal can feel himself growing stronger under her guidance, and the walls that he built around himself on Bracca are crumbling brick by brick. It is nice, to be able to trust and learn again, even if this time his Master isn’t actually a Jedi. He isn’t really a padawan. Instead they form a bond that Cal can’t describe, and he includes Greez and BD-1 in that bond. Its comfortable, familiar, familial. They are more open with their emotions than Master Tapal or the clones ever were, and in turn Cal starts to trust them both. And then that trust betrays him.

The encounter with Sorc Tormo and the Haxion Brood is the first time Cal starts to feel the call of the dark. It’s just a whisper in the back of his mind, but its presence is unsettling. More unsettling is that instead of heading straight for Kashyyyk they’ve detoured to Bogano as Greez wants to check over the Mantis after crashing her through the arena. After everything Cal wants to be alone and preferably carving his way through the Empire’s troopers. Instead he settles for sitting at the edge of their makeshift landing pad with his feet dangling over the misty drop and the dark whispers muttering in the back of his mind.

Cal senses Cere approach more than hears her. She stands behind him for several minutes before eventually stepping up beside him.

“Beautiful sunset,” she says.

It is a beautiful sunset. The sky is alight with an amber glow that’s starting to turn pink where it meets the clouds, and the sun itself is on fire behind the Zeffo vault. With the gentle wind just shy of warm, it’s a serene sort of evening. At least on the outside.

Cal says nothing.

“I know you’re angry with me about Trilla.”

The words seem like an understatement for the storm of unrest they churn in him. He’s angry, yes, but also sad. Disappointed. Cal stays quiet as Cere slowly lowers herself to sit next to him on the marshy ground. He wants to offer his poncho for her to sit on instead, but stops himself.

“I know I made a bad call, not telling you the truth sooner.”

“You lied to me,” Cal says. “You said she was dead.”

Cal glances out of the corner of his eye and catches the frown on her face, the pinching of her brows. It’s not an angry look. Cere’s sadness is broadcast through the Force strong enough he could almost reach out and grasp it.

“After what they put her through, any part of her that was Trilla, my Trilla, is dead. But you’re right, I shouldn’t have kept what she became from you,” said Cere. “I’m sorry.”

The admission and apology are said so simply it throws Cal for a loop. He had been expecting excuses, or defensiveness from Cere, not this. He doesn’t know what to do with this other than let the silence between them grow comfortable rather the tense air that’s been choking them since the rescue.

“They did the same thing to you. What they did to Trilla,” Cal says as indigo creeps along the eastern horizon.

“They did.”

“But you conquered your darkness, why couldn’t the Inquisitors?”

“Because I didn’t conquer it, or overcome it. I cut myself off from the Force when I realized what I had done to escape, and I am too afraid to let it back in and tempt me deeper,” says Cere.

“Is that what I should do then, if I ever feel the darkness?” asks Cal. He purposefully keeps the question light and hypothetical, though the look Cere gives him says she understands why he’s asking.

Cere reaches out to put a warm hand on his shoulder. “All Jedi must face the darkness. It is the only way to truly see what the light has to offer. I drowned in it, but you’re strong enough to overcome whatever’s rooted in you.”

“Yeah, but how do I do that?” asks Cal, his tone growing sharp.

“Reach out, feel the Force around you. Like those boglings over there, feel them through the Force, how their lives entwine with the light.”

She points to a group of boglings keeping a wary eye on them from the other edge of the platform. Cal follows, and takes a deep breath in and lets it go slowly. The feeling of the Force around him is still strange after spending so many years suppressing his own connection to it. He reaches out with it towards the boglings. They are simple creatures brimming with curiosity about the strange intruders on their home. Some of them are hungry, some of them are sleepy, and some of them are interested in an activity that makes Cal blush as red as his hair. Yet he can feel it, the energy winding through them that connects them back to the planet, and the planet to the stars. They have no concept of evil and darkness. They only have life, all the things that entails, and death. Cal tries to grasp that understanding of the world and pull it into himself.

It doesn’t quite work, Cal still has the hurt from the betrayal like a wound on his heart, but the dark whispers have quieted. He isn’t ready to forgive Cere, but the anger is starting to ebb away, draining out of him into the Force.

“Feel better?” asks Cere.

“Kinda.”

“Good.”

Cere stands and wipes the mud from her pants as best she can. It’s a losing battle, considering how wet the ground is. She reaches down a hand to help Cal off the ground and brushes the dirt off of him once he’s up. The action is methodical and once she realizes what she’s doing her hand drops away. He almost misses the fussing as she steps back. They’re saved from whatever awkward comment would come next by Greez bustling out from the Mantis.

“She’s all patched up and ready to go, but how about some dinner before flying into a warzone?” says Greez as he waves them over from the bottom of the ramp.

Its easy to relax with Greez around, even if he is the reason the Haxion Brood kidnapped Cal. They enter the ship to the smell of simmering nerf stew, one of Cal’s favourite meals Greez has made so far. It smells like an apology Greez is too proud and ashamed to say out loud, and he feels the weight of the unsaid words in the extra-full bowl he’s passed.

There’s still the tempting darkness, but Cal surrounds himself with the light from Greez, Bogano, and even the faint glimmer that pierces through Cere. The Force winds around him like a river as he eats, washing away the darkness into something simple and light.

Later, when they’re trapped in the Fortress Inquisitorious, Cal clings to the memory of the boglings in the Force as the terrifying Inquisitor draws closer, baiting Cere into darkness. He uses it to wrestle away the fear and anger and cast a line to the light dying within her and tug it to the forefront. She will never be free of the darkness, but Cal will not let her fall.

Cal is twenty-three when he meets Master Cordova. He does not feel twenty-three. He feels like he’s a kid meeting Master Skywalker again, faced with someone he couldn’t actually believe was real until he was standing in front of them. It feels strange to meet someone he’s known so intimately. He has felt Master Cordova’s joy and sadness as if they were his own, and he has heard his voice so many times through both echoes and BD’s recordings.

The strange feeling doesn’t go away as they step into Cere’s archives. It persists all through their discussions and lingers afterwards as Cere and Greez take a moment to themselves to catch up after being apart for so long. With their pilot indisposed, Merrin and Bode begin to chat about the Hidden Path, and how Merrin’s helped people fleeing the Empire. Something about it makes Cal’s gut twist, knowing she was doing more to actually help people than he ever had on Saw’s endless missions.

He is drawn from these thoughts as Master Cordova approaches. BD-1 chirps happily and jumps down from Cal’s shoulder to dance playfully about Master Cordova’s feet like an excited tooka. Again, Cal’s gut twists in ugly jealousy.

“Cal, if you have a moment?” asks Master Cordova.

“Of course,” says Cal.

Master Cordova gives him a polite bow before gesturing towards the back of the archive. The bow is foreign and yet overwhelmingly familiar. It’s something that Cal had forgotten about completely in the ten years since the Jedi fell. Just another way he is failing to upkeep the legacy of the Jedi, like he’d once sworn to do.

The overlook Master Cordova leads him to is a perfect nook in the rock that houses the Anchorite base where they can look out over the sands, but Cal doubts any watchful eyes will spot them. Cal wanders to the natural railing that lines the overlook and leans against it. The air is cold, but fresh and clear. BD-1 hops up next to him to see the landscape, and Master Cordova follows behind.

“I thought it might be nicer to talk out here, away from the eyes of everyone else.”

Cal nods, still somewhat in disbelief that Master Cordova is here talking with him in the flesh, and not through a holo projector recording.

“It is so nice to finally meet the person who followed my puzzle to the holocron. Cere has told me of your adventures,” says Master Cordova.

“To be honest, I didn’t ever think I would be meeting you. From what Cere told me and from how you left BD-1 behind, I had assumed you, well…”

“That I had died? It is not hard to see how you might come to that conclusion.”

“If you weren’t dead, why would you leave the holocron and BD behind?”

“Because I knew that I would not be a good Master to any of those children.”

Master Cordova says it so simply, though it raises even more questions for Cal. He sighs, and for a moment Cal can see the years where they weigh on him. He hadn’t been a young man when the Purge happened, and ten years of hiding from the Empire hasn’t been kind to anyone.

“Did Cere ever tell you that she was my first, and only apprentice?”

“No,” says Cal. He is surprised, from all the echoes and things left behind, he had gotten the sense that Cordova liked to pass on his knowledge.

“I had thought that maybe I could share my love of ancient civilizations with a younger mind. Cere can tell you about the many lectures and ruins I have put her through without concern for passing on the most fundamental elements of our order.”

“She might have mentioned it once,” says Cal.

“Then she is far kinder than I deserve. No, after Cere I knew that I would rather focus myself on studying the history of other Force wielders in the galaxy, like the Zeffo. Secretly I had hoped that Cere had survived, and would be the one to find the holocron. She always did well with younglings.”

Cal doesn’t know how to feel about that, but it doesn’t feel good. Master Cordova must see the look on his face as he gives him a smile.

“As you are, in a sense, my grandpadawan, I guess it is fitting that finding the holocron fell to you instead.”

He puts a friendly hand on Cal’s shoulder. It’s not a hug, not like Greez’ anyway, with four arms and a squeeze at the last second that knocks his breath out of his lungs, but it feels like acceptance and home.

The Force ripples between them and Cal can feel the thin thread of a bond with Master Codova sitting fresh at the edge of his awareness. Through it he can feel the inquisitiveness that is inherent to Master Cordova, and the sense of pride he has when looking at Cal.

“It’s too bad you couldn’t find the Zeffo,” says Cal, uncomfortable with that pride.

Master Cordova shakes his head. “It is for the best. As I said I would not have found Cere again, nor sought out other survivors if I had kept trying to find them.”

“But it was your life’s work. I felt your excitement in the Zeffo tombs, the joy of every discovery. I can’t believe you would give all that up.”

“Ah, my boy, the Zeffo were my passion, but that passion turned to obsession. I neglected my duties to my fellow Jedi, to my padawan, and even to the rest of the galaxy. I knew something bad was coming, but I did not care to face it, instead I only cared about my own research and the pursuit of knowledge.”

The way Master Cordova says the words and looks at Cal makes him think he’s trying to hint at something else. Whatever it is, he doesn’t get the message across. Instead of trying again in simpler terms Master Cordova turns to look out over the sands towards the ruins. There’s a longing on his face that Cal understands from the echoes he’s found. It’s the desire to get his hands on history, to walk the halls of the ancients and try and catch a glimpse of what their lives must have been like.

“The archive is amazing,” tries Cal. “When we get to Tanalorr maybe we can move it there, so it won’t be under threat from the Empire.”

“It truly is a marvel. Cere has been nothing but dedicated to the preservation of Jedi knowledge and texts. It is my hope that more than just the Jedi may see fit to add works the Empire has forbidden from their own cultures. If the Empire is ever to fall, there will be many across the galaxy who will wish to reclaim their heritage.”

That resonates with Cal, and for a moment he is once again a small boy on his Master’s shoulders, being told to fight for those who cannot. He has been thinking of Tanalorr as a place for the Jedi, for hiding and rebuilding the order. But of course there are others who would need to escape the Empire. Anyone who the Empire deemed unworthy also deserved a place where they didn’t have to look over his shoulder.

“Thank you, Master,” says Cal.

“I’m not sure what you have to thank me for,” replied Master Cordova. “But I can guess from the look on your face that you have reached an understanding you were looking for.”

“Yes,” says Cal, and he attempts to imitate the bow Master Cordova gave him earlier.

Master Cordova bows back, and gestures towards the door. “Shall we go rejoin the others? I’m sure you would like to say goodbye to Cere before you leave.”

Cal nods. His feelings towards Cere are complicated, but now that he’s back in the same space with her he can feel lack of her presence in the last few years all the clearer. It will be good to reconnect, even if he doesn’t quite know how to do it.

As they make their way back towards the archive Cal can feel Master Cordova’s eyes on him, and feel the hint of worry running faintly through their bond. He wonders what it was Master Cordova had been trying to tell him earlier, but figures if it were that important, he would have told him outright.

Cal is twenty-three as he stands in front of three pyres. The smoke is thick and carries the rancid stench of burning meat, but he refuses to move. Greez has corralled the little one back to the Mantis, he thinks. Merrin followed some time after that. Only Cal remains, the last Jedi. But he owes it to all three of the bodies before him to ensure that they are sent off properly, in a tradition that maybe only he now remembers. It’s what he wishes he could have done for Master Tapal, forever entombed in a rusting escape pod on a lonely, wet planet.

He does not cry. He cried all his tears on Jedha and has let go of his anger enough for it to leave a void within him. There should be more emotion there, he thinks. Sadness at such needless death, or pity at how in striving for peace Bode found only chaos and death.

As the sun rises over the horizon the last of the embers burn away, leaving nothing but piles of ash in place of three people Cal had considered his family. He takes a deep breath in and lets it out slowly. With it he tries to invite something to fill the void left behind. It takes a few more breaths, but something does come. Not from within, but from behind him. Rocks crunch underfoot as Merrin walks towards him. At her side is Kata, eyes red-rimmed but face set with sad understanding.

“It is done?” asks Merrin.

“It is done,” echoes Cal.

“Greez has the compass installed on the Mantis, we can head back to Koboh whenever you are ready.”

Cal gives her nod of thanks before crouching down to Kata’s level. “Are you ready? Did you leave anything on your dad’s ship?”

It escapes none of them that he stumbles over the word ‘dad’. The guilt threatens to choke him, but he tries to keep it at bay. For Kata or for himself he cannot tell. Still, Kata doesn’t go running from him in terror, or scream and call him a murderer, instead she nods.

“Do you want to come with me and show me what it is?” asked Cal.

“Okay.”

Together they set off towards the lonely temple and Bode’s abandoned fighter. Merrin trails after them, but gives them enough space to have a conversation if they want to without being overheard. Though she would probably hear anyways. Tanalorr, for all its beauty, is surprisingly quiet and empty. Cal has yet to see a bush rustle or hear a bird call. He thinks animals were here, once. Maybe when Dagan built his temple, but nothing is here now. It’s as if the Force is waiting, paused here until the time is right to be filled with life again. And Cal brought it only death instead.

He tries not to look at the temple as they pass it. It’s a monument to a lost culture now. The last of the Jedi Masters have returned to the Force. Cal is a facsimile, an attempt to capture the spirit of the Jedi Order, but he is too far removed, too far lost from the path. The archive is gone, burned in its own pyre back on Jedha, so it’s not like he has anywhere to start over from.

The thoughts swirl around Cal’s mind as he watches Kata climb into the fighter and pull out a pathetically small bag. It’s only big enough to maybe hold one extra set of clothes, maybe two since she is still small. She hops back down to the ground and hugs it to her chest like a stuffed toy. It’s a bitter replacement for the one she gave to Bode as he burned. She stands under the fighter for a long time. Cal gives her that moment. Force only knows how long it took him to walk away from the escape pod after it crashed on Bracca. When she finally moves, Kata comes to stand at Cal’s side and reaches for his hand.

“Are you ready?” asks Cal.

“I think so. I don’t want to be here anymore.”

Cal gives her hand a squeeze, and this time Merrin leads the way back to the ship without comment or complaint. As they walk Cal can feel the Force reaching out between himself and Kata and winding them together with thin threads. It doesn’t happen as fast as with Master Cordova, and the bond will take time to form properly, but it is there all the same.

It’s not until they’re back on the Mantis with Greez navigating their way back through the Abyss with the help of the compass that Cal realizes what the bond means. She’s Force sensitive. He can sense her like a slight glimmer of starlight on a dark night. Not strong enough to use it consciously, but enough to sense things on a deeper level, enough to be in danger from the Empire.

Cal gives himself the rest of the trip to mourn her future. She will never know the Jedi. He doesn’t have the knowledge to teach her anything other than the rough combat style he’s made himself and the basics of meditation. Cere should be here, he thinks with a fierce ache. She would know what to do, and how to pass on the wisdom he lacks. He should be taking Kata to Jedha and the archive to be fussed over by Cere and entranced by Master Cordova’s stories. Instead she will learn from what little he can remember.

When they land on Koboh Kata is eager to explore, rushing off the ship as soon as the hatch opens, Cal and Merrin trailing behind her in her wake. She rushes into the dry grass and dusty earth with glee, happy to be on a planet full of life again. Cal watches as she stops to inhale the scent of nekko and dust and the nameless earthy smell that makes up Koboh. He wouldn’t call the emotion that wells up in him happiness, he’s still too far in his grief for that, but watching her take in Koboh makes him feel lighter.

Then Kata spots something in the grass and makes her way over to it. Curious, Cal gets closer as well. It’s a bogling, staring up at Kata with wide eyes and spindly legs ready to run. She slowly reaches out a hand, and the bogling is brave enough to let her pet it. It leans into the gentle scratch behind the ear, before spotting Cal behind her and taking off towards the others in its pack. Cal watches them go, and thinks he might just have something to teach Kata after all.

#j:fo #jedi survivor #fic #fanfiction #cal kestis #jaro tapal #cere junda #eno cordova #kata akuna #jedi survivor spoilers #angst #character introspection #boglings

41 notes · View notes