Chapter Text
He didn’t stay on Bogano for long, then, despite it being a very tempting opportunity. The Empire abandoned the planet, for the most part, and it was just as peaceful as it possibly could have been, but Cal couldn’t embrace it; not just yet. The stars called for him, as if in song, and each note was a tremolo of worry and a promise of a better future. He knew that one person could still make a difference, that’s what his Master – his Masters – used to tell him.
He believed it, so inspired, made everyone around him follow this path as well; even Greez, although reluctantly at first, agreed. Perhaps it was just Cal’s charm, or perhaps, Obi-Wan had to do something with the inspiration part as well. Anyhow, they all joined the fight against the Empire.
At first, things went well. Too well, perhaps. Operation after operation, Cal lived off the adrenaline and triumph, each small victory fueling his – and his team’s – resolve to go on. They were in this together – he, Cere, Merrin, even Obi-Wan joined in sometimes, though he could never stay for long and couldn’t fight since he wasn’t really there, astral-projecting, but he could be an amazing distraction. And even though the Empire was a true beast that Cal knew they could never truly best, they could help people around them fight. Live. It was easy to find his purpose in this, as long as he never looked back and never stopped.
But all the good things end, in time.
He was warned by his companions not to rely on this feeling of success too much, and Cal thought that he didn’t. Still, the disillusionment was bitter, when it hit. It all started with the small things and spiralled down to more… serious issues. Like the one time Cal barely escaped the star destroyer, when his lightsaber got damaged, bringing back not only nothing useful , but also a couple plasma burns and a broken arm. Or that time when he almost lost BD-1 — had to reassemble the droid almost from scratch, luckily — at least — the memory banks weren’t damaged. Or that awful time when they got ambushed by the inquisitors. Or yet another one —
Cal couldn’t help but feel that he was fighting a losing battle and the feeling only got worse with time. And especially after his family decided to go their separate ways. They said he pushed them too har. They said he had to know when to stop. They said that he shouldn’t take on more than he can handle. They said…
He couldn’t blame them; after all, he was the one who abandoned everyone for a whole year in his endeavours to find peace, training and — honestly not to go insane — after encountering Vader back when they were after the holocron. He understood that everyone had their own internal battles, goals and wants: Cere wanted to rebuild the Order and its archives, Merrin wanted to see more of the galaxy, and Greez wanted a simple, peaceful life. Cal failed to pinpoint what it was that he himself wanted; other than seeing the Empire finally gone. He joined the Resistance. Worked with Saw Gerrera. Tried to tell himself that it was the Jedi way – letting go of his previous attachments and living in the flow. He didn’t try to get distant or cold – found new friends among the resistance and told himself that it was enough, as long as they didn’t blame him for being too pushy, too hard on himself, as long as he continued being useful, as long as he did his best to help the people to reclaim their freedom. At least, like this, he had a purpose, albeit it was an impossible one.
Yet, he could feel that this wasn’t working out the way he wanted to. People died around him. He couldn’t help but notice this sad trend: as soon as he made friends with someone, they met a tragic end. Stray blaster bolt, or an imperial ambush, or a ship, crash landing in all the wrong ways. He was told that he had nothing to do with all of that; that those were horrendous coincidences. That he did all that he could to prevent his comrades’ deaths, even if in the end it didn’t help at all. That he couldn’t save everyone and that there wasn’t shame in living on. And yet he… couldn’t find it in himself not to care. It was… “heartbreaking” was such an understatement.
He also made no progress whatsoever in dealing with the whole “Anakin” debacle; all he could do was ignore the whispers, the shared nightmares, shield his mind as best he could and just hope that his failings weren’t due to him having a sith lord on the back seat inside his head. Only Merrin knew about that, but even with her Cal stopped sharing much, after- no, it simply didn’t matter. Emotions were not the Jedi way, after all. It was all about letting go.
He felt as if he was stuck. Lost.
The only time he could really feel okay was when he was fighting. He couldn’t sit still; idleness was driving him insane, whispers of hate grew louder in his head if he did, and there was only so much the meditation could help. He honestly tried to release all of the negative emotions into the Force and to have nothing left behind but the feeling of peace; the serenity.
He even took more time than usual for his search for peace in meditations – the new crew of the Mantis decided to spend some time in the cantina nearby, they asked him to go as well , but Cal stayed behind; for some reason today all he wanted or could do was to brood.
“You are losing your focus easily today, did something happen?” Obi-Wan was here again, checking on the plants in the improvised garden on Mantis. He came and went, sometimes disappearing from Cal’s life for weeks at a time, but he was always there when Cal needed him the most. Was it their bond, or perhaps the Force’s will, or simply a coincidence… who knows.
“Apart from the usual? No, Master, nothing. I’m just…” even though he needed someone, this was simply… just not it. Couldn’t even explain why, couldn’t pinpoint the issue.
“Lost in thoughts. I’ve heard it before. I can sense that something isn’t right. You sure you don’t want to talk it through?”
“Yeah. Not like anything can be changed by just talking it through.”
He wished they could actually spar. Wished they could be breathing the same air, or walking under the same stars. Instead, all they had was this. Small talk. Meditations miles away from one another. The illusion of being together.
Cal missed his friends; he missed Obi-Wan, too, and he knew that there were reasons as to why he had to be alone, as to why Obi-Wan would not leave that Force forsaken hell of a planet, but… it didn’t take away from the fact that the loneliness was frustrating, sad, boring, eating away at his nerves. He didn’t like being alone, and yet, he always ended up being.
“If you ever want to talk-”
“I know, Master. Okay. I think I need to get a few more things ready for tomorrow’s mission, if you’ll excuse me…” he didn’t have to get anything ready. In fact, he was always ready to spring back into action nowadays. He had his lightsaber and the Force, what else could he prepare? Iron his poncho? Well, the Empire sure won’t mind if he didn’t. A terrorist needed not appear civilised in any way, shape or form.
He understood that Obi-Wan saw through his excuse, noticed silent disapproval in his eyes. But the Jedi Master didn’t say anything: decided, probably, to leave it be. Perhaps, he, too, understood that the situation was… well, very far from being perfect. Or maybe just wanted to save this conversation for later.
He wished Cal good luck and was gone.
Well. Just like the wind.
Cal was sure they would talk more very soon, though. After all, his quest this time was to locate the intel about imperial outposts’ locations; and next, he really wanted to discuss the strategy of taking them down with Obi-Wan — after all, the man fought in the Clone Wars, he probably had some things to say about what they should do and how. And in turn, Cal would share it with the Resistance.
Then, there will be lots to discuss, and he will be spending time usefully, and his purpose of pushing back the Empire would illuminate his way once more. For now… all he could do was try to rest. And tomorrow will be a bright new day, and they will plot a course for Coruscant, trick everyone into thinking that Cal was captured and strike when they least expect it.
Everything sounded like a perfect plan.
…it turned out to be anything but.
There was no hitch in how they executed it, but the results… Well, Cal couldn’t even call the results “mixed”, it was plain “awful”.
At first it went well. They met up with their new crew member, Bode Akuna, went on their mission,the disguise was perfect, they incapacitated the yacht, trapped Senator Sejan in there, then, Cal mind-tricked him into giving they access to the data… which proved to be just the first blow fate would give him that day. The expansion of the Empire was gargantuan; few planets were still free of their grasp, and it seemed that soon even those would be swallowed by the beast. He could barely contain the sheer disappointment. He wished things weren’t just as bad, but… as they exited the yacht, they found themselves ambushed by several patrol gunships.
He expected this turn of events, because nothing ever ended well nowadays, but he didn’t expect the inquisitor to be there. He tried his best to protect his crewmates, but in vain. He tried to talk the inquisitor down, but the attempt was half-hearted, and the result of the battle was… expected.
Cal couldn’t say he was surprised. But he wasn’t used to losing people, even if they were constantly, always, unavoidably dying around him. As if everyone who became his friend was doomed. Through it all, he tried not to overthink; tried not to blame himself, but there was always this feeling of guilt. He felt guilty that Master Tapal died and he survived. He felt guilty that Trilla died before they could save her, and he survived. Every member of the Resistance on their missions, Cal wished he could save them – he did not.
It was hard, living with this guilt.
He transmitted the intel to the Resistance, hoping that –
He didn’t know what he was hoping for, to be completely honest. He reminisced of times bygone, when his friends were here. When he could talk to them, when dinners were tasty and filled with lively banter. Those times… were gone.
At the very least he didn’t lose his family for good as it happened with everyone from the Resistance. So, maybe they made the right choice, by going away. It seemed that he was bringing misfortune to everyone around him.
Still… with the malfunctioning gyro he only really had one choice : visit Greez and hope that he will be able to fix it somehow. So, he plotted the course for Koboh and hoped for the best, as exhaustion finally caught up to him and he dozed off. A shallow sleep – but not without nightmares which never stopped to haunt him.
This dream was filled with anger, with hatred for all things, as he made his way through yet another imperial facility. Stormtroopers taunted him and got back what they deserved – a painful death, as he sliced them in half or broke their necks using the Force; he didn’t feel a tiny bit of remorse towards them. Another Force-push, a slicing motion of two blue blades, and three more dead.
An unnamed, faceless inquisitor faces him. They fight. Dead body falls to the floor with a dull sound.
He breathes out a laugh, only to realise that those he killed were not stormtroopers.
He dares not take a look.