Chapter Text
The Archives burn.
Cere had thought she’d be ready when death came for her.
All of Jehda burns.
She thought she had accepted Cordova’s end long ago.
The galaxy cries out.
She thought she had paid her debts.
Now, standing in the heart of all the good that has come out of her life, smoke rising up into her throat and the heat of the fires stuck against her skin, she doubts.
She doubts that she ever saved anyone at all. Not Trilla, not Merrin… not Cal. Her own death is justified, her end is the only one that should be. Not all of them, not all of her students and brothers and sisters.
Yet, she has only ever let others die for her. She supposes it is only right that she meets her end here, surrounded by her life’s work, watching it turn to ash.
The Force shifts around her. She can feel her death, just beyond the smoke.
She finds herself thinking of Cal. She has a strange thought that he would have loved the Hidden Path. She can only imagine all the good he would have brought on the galaxy. She can still see him, back bent over a steel beam as the ocean crashes in around them, the Fortress colder and darker than the depths of the sea.
The Force ripples with a warning.
It is her end.
“So, this is where you’ve been hiding all these years.” A modulated voice drifts through the smoke. It’s unlike the other inquisitors, smooth and unhurried. Unconcerned with the world around it, unworried for the fires that flicker at its feet.
Cere lays her hand gently on the hilt of her lightsaber. It thrums with all the Light Side power she thought she would never have again, like a song she will never sing beneath her fingertips. Now, it fills her to the brim.
“Second Brother.” She says as he steps through the haze of smoke. “I’ve heard many tales.”
He’s tall with a slight build and a helmet not unlike Trilla’s. He’s dressed the same as the others, sharp and black in the firelight. However, from where she stands, she can’t see the round-hilted lightsaber that should be slung across his back like all his comrades.
“Oh?” His posture is relaxed, slack almost, but she can feel something far darker under the surface. A cold emanates from him in waves, cold enough to burn. “I could say the same about you, Master Junda.”
She says nothing. She has heard of the Second Brother, Vader’s Bloodhound, the fury he wrought on the galaxy. Heard the whispers of his power, of his ability to find one and all no matter the vastness of the vacuum between them.
He raises his hand to the Archive wall, brushing the tips of his fingers over the books there. She notices, strangely, he wears fingerless gloves.
He lingers there for a moment, faceless helmet turned to the wall. She hears him make some noise and he drops his hand.
He turns his gaze back to her. “How does it feel,” He says after a long, silent moment, “To lose again?”
The Force thrums around her, sings with the kyber beneath her fingertips as the creeping of death shrinks back.
“You seem sure of yourself.” She says.
The Second Brother studies her for a long moment. “Yes,” He says finally, “I am.”
“You have me intrigued.” She responds easily, “What gives you such confidence?” She’s vaguely aware of the rapidly retreating force signatures of the acolytes and the blinking of Merrin’s presence in a different part of the base as she teleports. If she can hold out for long enough… there is a chance.
He watches her carefully. “I can sense your fear. Though, I do not even need to resort to such tricks to see that.” He pauses and she thinks she hears a lilt to his voice that feels far too familiar. “I know you so well, after all.”
She comes across the horrible thought that she may have known him once. Perhaps in the Temple, during the days of the Republic?
But it does her no good to dwell on the past.
He is powerful, there is no mistaking that, but she has been in hiding for so long. Surely, surely she doesn’t display herself so easily. “Oh? Do you?” She wraps her fingers around the hilt of her lightsaber, shifting to a defensive stance. “And what do you know?”
He doesn’t respond for a minute. “More than I would like.” He says at last.
It’s a strange response, but everything about this Inquisitor is off. His mannerisms, his voice, it doesn’t line up with all the things she’s heard. Whispers from Jedi passing through the Hidden Path, sobbing children and hysterical parents' stories of the Bloodhound- whatever the vessel, the tales don’t fit this calm, curious Inquisitor.
“Yet, I know so little about you.” She keeps her voice steady despite the frantic feeling threatening to claw up her throat. She is one with the Force.
“I am the Second Brother.” He tilts his head, black metal flashing in the firelight.
“Yes,” She says, “Vader’s Bloodhound.”
“That is one of my names.”
“And what of your true name? Tell me, Second Brother, who were you before the Inquisitorius tore you apart?”
She thinks of Trilla, her padawan, her daughter. The pain is still fresh, it festers and burns like an old wound, but it has not faded. She aches and mourns and refuses to forget. But now, years later and wrapped in the Light, it does not consume her.
He chuckles, “That name does not matter now.” He looks at her, “I destroyed such weakness, like you never could.”
He’s letting her stall, giving her more time, but she isn’t sure why.
She takes the blessing. “There are few things you have done that I wish to join you in.”
“Hm.” He considers her for a moment, “It doesn’t matter. Your chance has long passed. You have only death left to face.”
“Today will not be my end, Second Brother.” Her words ring with truth through the Force. She wonders if he can hear it too.
“Perhaps.”
She feels herself tense at his civility.
“But what of your archives?”
“They are but pages and data disks.” It hurts, but it can be replaced, rebuilt.
“What of your acolytes? Your pilot? Your Nightsister?” She swears she sees him twitch at his own mention of Merrin, but she can’t fathom why so she ignores it. “Can they be so easily replaced? Will you leave them behind like all the others?”
“I suppose you knew Trilla, then.” She says, catching his meaning.
He shrugs. “As well as anyone did.”
“I never knew you, in the Fortress, out in the Galaxy.”
“I’m a more… recent addition to the Inquisitorius.” He says idly. “But rest assured,” she can hear his grin from behind his helmet, “I am no less effective.”
Their conversation seems to have come to a fitting conclusion. “I never had any doubt.” She ignites her lightsaber. The Archives are lost, but she is not.
“Hm.” He says nothing as he draws his lightsaber. She fights to keep her face neutral when she sees it. It’s not the standard blade all Inquisitors wield, no, it’s long, with an almost staff-like hilt. She refuses to compare it to Cal’s. She can’t bear to, not now.
He ignites one end and moves across the room, “How ironic that Trilla never laid a hand on you but I will be the one to kill you.”
“Oh?” She questions.
She hears him hum thoughtfully as he stalks closer to her. “She used to talk about you, you know.”
She tightens her grip on her saber.
“She would cry for you when they were breaking her. Sobbing, screaming…” He tilts his head, pinning his gaze on her, “All Cere Junda.”
“And what do you know of resisting?” She spits, vitriol rearing its ugly head.
“More than you ever will.”
When he’s finally close enough to her, he takes a half-hearted swipe at her neck. She deflects him easily and strikes. He defends with one hand, like she’s hardly doing anything at all.
“I really do wonder how you evaded capture for so long.”
Their lightsabers clash, sparks flying between them.
The Dark Side radiates off of him, almost reminiscent of Darth Vader. She can feel his influence on this Inquisitor more than any other. It’s thick, pouring off of him in sheets- like a fog that swallows everything in its cloud.
She grits her teeth and breaks his hold, drawing back swiftly before she slashes at him again. He catches her blade and returns a series of sharp strikes, stronger now.
She bolsters herself with the Force and throws him off. He is nothing to Light, to her after all the battles she’s waged.
“You would have made a marvelous Inquisitor.” The Second Brother says as he eases slightly, “A shame, really.” He draws back, like he’s examining her. “It would have made things so simple.”
He hesitates for a moment before seemingly coming to a decision. He lignites the other end of his lightsaber, crimson light flashing off the shine of his armor. “Maybe they wouldn’t have died.”
She can’t stop the flare of indignation that fills her momentarily. “You have no right to speak of them.”
“They were weak.”
“You’re a fool if you truly think so.”
“I only speak the truth. You broke so easily… like snapping a finger… or a spine.” He pauses, “At least they were stronger than you.”
Cere can’t stop the smile that pulls at her lips. “I did not break, Second Brother. I stand against the Darkness, more powerful than you could ever imagine.”
“You still speak in trite aphorisms. Things you don’t really understand, won’t ever truly conquer.” He drags his crimson blade across the ground, leaving a blackened line of stone behind him. “You will die not knowing.”
She casts herself out into the Force, searching for Merrin’s presence. Relief floods her when she finds her close. It won’t be long now.
“I am sorry someone failed you.” She says and it’s true. She is sorry. Sorry the Second Brother will never be known by another name. Sorry he is lost to the Darkness and that no one who loves him will ever see his face again.
“Of course you’re sorry.” He said, a slight tinge of contempt to his modulated voice. “You’re about to die.”
He flings his lightsaber through the air and charges after it. Cere knocks the spinning blade away, grunting as the Second Brother catches it again and slams against her.
The Force fills her, brimming with power and light. She sinks into it as the Second Brother strikes at her again. He comes down on her with a furious series of blows, spinning back and forth just as her blade slices at him.
“You’re just an Inquisitor.” She says, “Years ago, even Darth Vader could not kill me.” She parries him again, “What can you hope to accomplish?”
His laugh crackles through his helmet. “Vader trained me himself. I do not fear death.” He slams a force wave against her, pushing her back. “I do not fear anything.”
Before she can recover properly, he strikes again. She stumbles back and loses her footing. Another wall of force power sends her to the ground. She hits the stone hard, pain lancing up her body and bones. Her lightsaber slips out of her hand and rolls away. She scrambles back, reaching for it, but freezes as the Second Brother levels his lightsaber at her neck.
“See, Master Junda.” He says, shoulders rising and falling as he catches his breath. It’s strange to see him breathe like any other being. “This is the end.”
“For me, perhaps, but the Jedi will live on. The Light will always remain.”
“Your hope has turned to delusion. It’s over. For you, for the Jedi, all of you little flies that crawl around under the Empire’s foot.” He says as his posture relaxes and turns nonchalant again. His lightsaber burns against her neck and for the second time, she thinks she might die here. “The Darkness shall cover what little Light is left in this galaxy.”
“If you kill me, I will become more powerful than you could ever imagine.”
He looks at her like he has something more to say, but eventually he only responds, “I’m sure.” And lifts his saber up.
She lets her eyes slide close and reaches out into the Force. She feels the Second Brother, all his cold anger and, deeper, buried beneath all the sharp ice and darkness, pain. It overflows from his being, spiteful and bitter. But she moves past it, past him and all that he is. Further on, she’s surprised to come across a remnant of Cal, but it’s fleeting and thin, so she lets it go. Finally, the room becomes clear in the Force. She sees the Second Brother, his lightsaber held high and ready to kill, the burning Archives, Merrin just beyond the entrance. All the universe becomes clear in that moment.
With nothing left to say, the Second Brother twitches slightly, his only warning, and swings his blade down to her neck.
She expects a sharp, searing pain, but only finds a faint warmth on the side of her neck. There is no pain, no darkness, only the Force thrumming around her.
She looks up at the Inquisitor.
Green light seeps off his body, holding him and his saber just inches away from Cere’s neck.
Merrin’s voice breaks through the burning air. “Today is not your end, Cere.”
She lets out a sharp breath and scrambles back. The Second Brother’s saber breaks free of Merrin’s hold and slices through the air, where she had been moments before.
But no, she has no time to consider her death.
She leaps to her feet and calls her lightsaber back into her palm. “I told you, Second Brother. You will not win. Not today, not tomorrow, not ever.”
The Second Brother says nothing. His visor is fixed, not on Cere, but behind her.
She risks a glance over her shoulder to see Merrin standing by the far wall, emerald fire blazing from her fingertips as she regards the Second Brother with her ever stoney gaze.
Cere looks back at the Second Brother. He straightens, but makes no move to attack.
She carefully, as if not to startle a wild animal, edges closer to Merrin. His gaze remains on her, on the Nightsister.
She watches him closely. After a moment, she realizes he’s trembling, straining against some invisible force. There’s no green glow around his skin, no flash of the Nightsister’s magick. Yet, he struggles. Another mystery.
“Nightsister-” His voice comes out garbled and strangely familiar. The modulator crackles, like it's been half crushed under the weight of whatever holds the Second Brother in place.
Merrin’s power flares sharply as she readies to teleport. “Do not speak, Sith Scum.” She snaps, “You have no power here.”
He stares at her. Just looks and looks.
Cere takes her chance.
She throws herself at Merrin, wrapping a hand around her arm. In the same instant, the Second Brother flings his lightsaber across the room. His form is sloppy, sluggish; unlike any of his other movements. For a second, Cere considers if it’s intentional.
Merrin’s power flares. The green light of her magick wraps around them, rising up to the ceiling like the orange flames flickering in the corners. The red lightsaber spins towards them, but the Second Brother was a moment too late.
She watches as his saber spins past them before the light whisks her and Merrin away.
***
He’s wrapped in the darkness. It fills every crevice, every channel within his mind. He relishes in it, lets it guide his arms and blade. It blocks out the echoes’ screams, quiets them as they shriek and cry at him. It brings him a peace like no other.
He’s back in the chair. No, he’s in the cell he called ‘his’ for so long. No, he’s on the floor of the dojo.
It hurts.
Oh force, it hurts.
Vader stands over him, saber deactivated and put away, but Cal knows it will return. It always does.
“You’re weak.”
He always says that.
“You’ve failed, as you always will.”
He knows this speech.
“Unless,” Vader breathes, “You set yourself free.”
Cal claws as the floor, trying, trying to drag himself anywhere else. His own blood slips around on the sleek metal, between his fingers, under his nails. He’s drowning in it. It consumes him, all of him, every fissure and canyon of his many scars. He can’t breathe.
His hands slide and grasp uselessly as he searches for his lightsaber. It’s all he has left after he’s been abandoned. After he has nothing but his own grit and blood.
His own?
Some of it is.
But there are others mixed in. Trilla, Prauf, Tapal.
He tried to save them. He tried.
It wasn’t enough. It would never be enough.
The Grand Inquisitor grabs him by his hair and yanks him upright, out of the blood, out of the darkness. “You will know suffering like no other, Second Brother.” He thrusts a lightsaber into his hand and all goes dark.
The Second Brother jerks awake.
His heart thuds in his chest, erratic. Above him, the black ceiling of Fortress Inquisitorious spans across his vision. A red line of lights glows dimly in his darkened room.
His? When did that happen?
It was always meant to be his. It always was.
He spits out the iron taste in his mouth and sits up. He tries to slow his breathing and calm himself, but his hand shakes as he runs it through his hair. He swings his legs over the side of the mattress, distantly realizing he had slept in his armor again.
Those damn dreams. Why does he still get them? Is he still too weak?
“Can’t sleep?”
The Second Brother jerks his head up, fury rising up in his chest. Would this guy just leave him alone?
Cal Kestis leans against the far wall. The red lights fall across him comfortably, almost soft against his skin. His green eyes glow against the darkness in a way the Second Brother’s will never be able to. He’s dressed the same as the Second Brother, all in dark uniform, except for the Imperial symbol that is absent from his armor.
The Second Brother lets out a snarl, “Isn’t it a little early for this?”
Cal frowns, “You brought this upon yourself.”
“I saved you.” The Second Brother growls back, but he knows it’s pointless. They’ve had this argument before, this conversation that they repeat over and over again until one of them stops caring. “You were weak. I made us powerful.”
Cal says nothing to that.
The Second Brother sneers at him, tasting victory. “You are a fool, Kestis. And you suffered for it.”
Cal hums. After a moment, he says, “I don’t get nightmares.”
“You gave up!” The Second Brother growls, “I embraced survival, but you let yourself die.”
Cal pushes himself off the wall. The Second Brother barely holds himself back from flinching as Cal leans in. He looks at him like an examiner, like he was searching for something in their shared gazes. “I look alive.” He says after a moment.
Something snaps within him. The Second Brother surges forward to push the damn Jedi away, but his hands sail right through him and he nearly sends himself flailing to the floor. He catches himself and spins around, furious.
“You fucking-”
Cal glances over his shoulder, lip pulled in a slight smile. “Forgot, did you?”
“I’ll kill you.” The Second Brother hisses, “I’ll kill you all over again. I’ll sever your head from your neck again and again. No matter how many times I have to, I’ll kill you.” He reaches for his lightsaber, all better judgment slipping from his grasp. The Dark Side screams at him to kill, kill, kill. “And then, I’ll kill all your friends. I’ll turn the Jedi, gut the Latero, tear that Nightsister of yours limb from limb and feed them to you.”
Cal gives him a look of apathy. “I’m sure.”
“Go away!” He growls, “Leave me be! You’re nothing. You’re not even real.”
“Not real?” Cal turns around, “Are you sure?”
He’s suddenly not.
Cal approaches him, stalking like a predator. There’s a memory of the prowling spiders on Kashyyyk a lifetime ago. No, not like a predator. He’s relaxed, comfortably in the Inquisitor’s presence. He dares to be so confident.
Cal smiles, “Don’t forget, Second Brother.” He says, meeting his gaze with those weak, vile, brilliantly glowing eyes. “I am only here because you allow me to be.”
***
She’s dreaming of him again.
They stand apart, his back turned to her, cloaked in the darkness of this strange dreamscape they’ve found themselves in again.
The water ripples beneath them, still and quiet. Time waits for them to move on. She imagines she never will.
She looks at him. She knows he will not hear her when she calls out. She does anyway.
“Cal Kestis.”
The Darkness crackles.
“Cal Kestis.”
He is lost. Lost to death and time. Already gone.
Still, she stands and waits. She imagines she will spend her life waiting.
“Wait for me.” She says.
He never responds.
***
“Second Brother.”
The Second Brother looks at him. They stand in the Grand Inquisitor’s office. The head of the Inquisition is turned with his back to the Second Brother, facing the wide open windows that stretch across the sea floor. A school of colorful fish swims by outside. The Second Brother thinks it’s kind of funny, the bright blues and oranges so deep in the ocean, but he keeps his face straight. He is without his helmet. He cannot slip now.
“You failed.”
The Second Brother stiffens. He knows. He is the best. He’s perfect. And yet, the rebels escaped him this time.
She was there.
Unwittingly, his gaze flickers to the Grand Inquisitor’s desk where Cal is sitting as he watches them. He has a neutral expression, bored almost.
“You have never failed before.”
“I know.” He responds, a little too quickly perhaps.
The Grand Inquisitor glances over his shoulder, fixing a critical eye on him. “You know.”
The Second Brother feels indignation flare up in his chest. He knows it seeps into his voice as he says, “I have never failed before. This one slip will not set me back from my mission. I am not inhibited in any way. I will complete and accomplish my directive despite this setback.”
The Grand Inquisitor looks back at the window. “Never failed before, hm.” He considers something for a moment, “But you’ve never confronted someone from your past before.”
“I have no past.” The Second Brother responds.
Cal snorts from his seat on the desk.
The Second Brother refuses to look at him.
“I am sorry I failed the Inquisition.” He says.
“I can sense your lies, Second Brother.”
He checks the cold fury he has layered over his feelings, over all of his mind. It feels solid and intact, but the Grand Inquisitor is new. His powers and strengths are not known. “I speak the truth.” He says.
A smile curls up the Grand Inquisitor’s face. “I was hoping you would say that.”
“I-”
He cuts off as some invisible force pressed against his windpipe. Cal looks up sharply from his position on the desk.
He looks up at the Grand Inquisitor. The man looks amused, like he’s curious how the Second Brother will react.
He forces himself to remain still.
“You failed, Second Brother.” He says, “And now you lie to me.”
“I am at the disposal of the Inquisition-” He chokes on his words as the Grand Inquisitor tightens his hold. He reaches up to his throat, unable to hold himself back from trying to claw away the hands that aren’t there.
He can’t breathe.
He can’t breathe.
He can’t die. He can’t die here. He’s made it through so much. He’s not ready to go yet.
“Did I say you could speak?”
The Second Brother lets out a gurgle.
He doesn’t want to go. Something in him clings to life, begs him to hold on. He does. He always does.
“I didn’t think so.” He grins, “Now, are you sorry?”
“Forgive me-” The Second Brother manages.
The Grand Inquisitor snorts, but drops him. He collapses to the ground, holding his throat as he takes heaving gasps of air.
“So weak.” The Grand Inquisitor says, disappointed.
The Second Brother feels something dark and twisted take root in his stomach. Rage burns through him, up his spine and through his veins. But he restrains himself.
His hands tremble as he pushes himself up. He wills them to be still. He is not weak. He refuses to be. Not after everything.
But he is still subject to the Inquisition. He will always be.
“I will allow this one failure without retribution, however…” The Grand Inquisitor looks at him again, “I will not be so lenient in the future.”
He dips his head, “Thank you, Grand Inquisitor.”
“But, make no mistake, there are consequences.”
The Second Brother does not move from his bowed posture.
“Whether you are fit to complete this mission remains to be seen. As a result I am directing your efforts elsewhere.”
The Second Brother straightens suddenly. “My orders were from Darth Vader himself.”
“Yes, well, Vader is not currently present and,” He turns to face him, “I am your commander.”
He says nothing in response. Cal lets out a groan and falls back on the desk to stare up at the ceiling, like the plain black and gray struts that hold the Fortress together are more interesting than the end of everything the Second Brother’s fought for.
“Your new assignment will take you to Tatooine. You’ll be accompanied by an ISB agent to make sure you stay on task.”
The Second Brother feels his face twist- he can’t help it. “I will only be slowed down by a member of the ISB.” He only failed once. Only once.
His fury turns hot at the Grand Inquisitor's meddling.
“You are still a liability, Second Brother.” He regards him with an irritated expression. “Do not forget that you only joined our ranks recently.”
He forces himself into cool indifference. It does not matter. Such matters are temporary. He is invaluable to the Empire. In ways Cal wasn’t to the rebels. He won, he survived. He knows these things.
“Of course, Grand Inquisitor.” The Second Brother bows his head again. “Your word is my command.”
The Grand Inquisitor lets out a sharp huff that the Second Brother can’t make sense of, but turns aways again. “You may go.”
He tucks his helmet under his arm and turns sharply out of the office. He’s met in the hallway by an ISB agent, one he isn’t too remiss to see.
“Been properly dressed down, then?” The ISB agent smirks.
“Hm.”
The Second Brother grunts and starts down the corridor. Part of him hopes to catch an hour of sleep before he’s shipped off, but he doubts he’ll be granted such a luxury. “I suppose you’re my new watchdog.”
“Could be worse.”
He doesn’t respond.
Bode Akuna, the ISB agent hiding his daughter on some forgettable asteroid as he pretends not to be a Jedi. He’s a good actor, but the Second Brother sees all. There’s not a memory that can hide from him and Bode; he’s covered in them.
But both of them have their secrets laid bare.
“When Vader returns, I’m sure-”
“The Grand Inquisitor will beg to be sent to Tatooine.” The Second Brother snaps. “He’s made a mistake.”
“Yeah?”
He can feel Bode’s interest brushing up against him. He’s not sure if it's genuine or motivated by his own priorities, but he supposes it doesn’t matter. Bode is loyal to the Empire as long as his child is kept safe. A man with such obvious motivations is easy to accept and place limited trust in.
The Second Brother glances at him from the corner of his eye. “The Grand Inquisitor assumes Vader’s interest in me is only as a result of the time he committed to my turning. He fails to understand the importance of my role in Vader’s larger plan.”
When they round a corner, Cal is waiting for them. He leans against the wall, spinning his lightsaber over his knuckles like it’s a wrench from his scrapper days. “Oh yes, the Great Plan.” He says, shooting a grin at the two of them.
The Second Brother narrows his eyes at the apparition.
Cal pushes himself off the wall and strolls up to the Bode, posture easy and relaxed. “The Great Plan. I wonder where he falls into it?”
As usual, the Second Brother finds himself at a loss with Cal’s postulating.
Bode’s eyes slide right over Cal, “You?”
“You will hear nothing more from me, Akuna.” The Second Brother says, “I’m sure you have your own information networks.”
Bode chuckles, but doesn’t deny it.
They arrive at the Inquisitor's quarters. Bode can go no further.
The Second Brother gestures for him to go. “I will meet you in the hangar in an hour. Be there or I’ll leave without you.”
Bode snorts like he knows he's lying. “As you say it, Two.” He turns away and the Second Brother catches a flippant wave over his shoulder in his peripheral.
He ignores him and goes to catch as much sleep as he can muster.
***
Merrin watches the Second Brother from afar. He stands stiffly next to an ISB agent as the base commander reports to them. Ships take off and land around them, kicking up Tatooine’s dust and sand under the blaze of the twin suns. The sky’s clear above them, bright blue and cloudless. It would be beautiful if not for the black Imperial fortress blocking the horizon. She wonders how long the people of Tatooine have had to look into the sky and see only the Empire. She wonders if they think of a better tomorrow. She wonders what Cal was thinking about as he died.
She shakes the thought away. Such sentimentality never did any good.
Merrin turns her attention back to the Imperials. The Second Brother says something to the base commander. The officer snaps back, face twisting with irritation, but the Second Brother doesn’t react. Only stands and watches.
Again, this Inquisitor puzzles Merrin. He is strange. So calm and cold when she brushes up against him with her magick. He isn’t a blaze of fury like the rest, but a strange kind of peace. He is ruthless and cunning and perfect.
He has never failed a mission. Never lost the trail of a Jedi, never let a rebel slip away. His title of Vader’s Bloodhound is justified.
And yet, he makes no move to punish the base commander for his insolence. He only stands and waits. For what, she does not know.
After a moment, he turns away and starts across the landing pad. The ISB agent follows closely behind and she notes a jetpack on his back. The thought that he is Mandalorian crosses her mind briefly, but she doesn’t dwell on it.
Her gaze follows the Second Brother until he has disappeared into the fortress.
When he’s gone, she makes her way down to the landing pad. Cloaked by a charm and a spell, she slips past stormtroopers and patrols and heads for the Fortress. She’s been tasked with collecting information, so, this time, she hopes to avoid the Second Brother and all his dogs.
She gets into the Fortress on the coattails of a squad returning to the hangar bay and follows a half-drawn map spun out from the memories of some poor deserter through the twisting corridors. She warps down an elevator shaft to reach the lower levels. Large, empty rooms span the length of the winding hallways and mazes of corridors go down, deeper into the ground, a tempting way to be lost for the rest of time.
The patrols become sparser and more infrequent the further she goes until they seem to disappear completely. She glances at the map again, but only finds that the data center lies somewhere ahead.
She turns a corner and barely yanks herself back in time to let the Second Brother walk past her. She bites back a sharp breath and tucks herself between the wall and a support beam. Cloaked or not, the Second Brother remains dangerously close.
He strolls by languidly, unconcerned with her pressed against the wall and she stamps down any possible indication of her presence. The ISB agent still trails behind him. They don’t even pause.
She hadn’t even felt him coming. Neither of them.
It shouldn’t be possible. Even Cere cannot hide from her.
She forces her heart to slow its panicked thumping. She has no time for fear, not room for it in her crowded heart. She is too close to fail now.
Just as she thinks he’s going to move on, the Second Brother pauses in the crossway between corridors.
She tenses.
The ISB agent gives him a look, though Merrin’s attention is on the Second Brother. “What is it?”
The Second Brother doesn’t respond to him. He turns slowly, his faceless helmet empty of all expression. She can feel his eyes behind its visor, searching and scanning for whatever caught his attention.
She readies herself. She does not know if she could win against the Second Brother alone, much less accompanied by his ISB guard dog, but she will not go down easily.
The Second Brother’s gaze turns in her direction and lands on her. He doesn’t move to attack, just watches, unreadable and untouchable behind his helmet.
For a moment, she’s sure he’s seen her, but as quickly as he had stopped to stare, he lets out a noise that sounds something like a scoff and starts down the corridor again.
She hears his ISB agent laugh like they were old friends. “Seeing things again, Two?”
“Anything not to look at your mug, Bode.” The Second Brother snaps back, but something in his modulated voice indicates fondness, if that’s possible for an Inquisitor.
The ISB agent’s laughter echoes through the corridor as they disappear around a corner.
Merrin lets out a low hiss as soon as they’re gone. A sharp fury rises up in her stomach, anger for her sisters, for all the Inquisitors and their pain, for Cal.
Oh, Cal. Oh, her beloved Cal.
She pushes the thought away. She has thought of all the things he will never do enough. She has considered his absence too many times, has wondered what he would be doing in that moment, longed for a flash of his smile or a fleeting second of shared grief. She has dwelled and cried and screamed into the void.
Now, in the days after, she lives on with his memory. It stands beside her as she traverses the great vacuum of the galaxy. She saves Jedi and for every child, for every padawan she keeps out of the Empire’s grasp, another Cal Kestis stands in opposition to tyranny.
So, she brings her friend, her Jedi, with her and goes on to the data center.
***
“Second Brother!” Someone sings from down below.
He’s going to kill himself. This is the moment. Here, on some random shuttle hovering over Tatooine. This is where he throws himself to his death. And Bode isn’t with him this time to prevent his early demise.
But the shuttle nears the ground too soon and there’s no escape.
The Seventh Sister waits for him as the ship sets down on the sand, uncaring of the grit it sends into the air with its thrusters. He hopes that she’ll be cleaning sand out of her armor for the next forty years.
As soon as he steps off the shuttle, she slings an arm over his shoulders and pulls him along. He holds back a long sigh and resigns himself to endless suffering.
“It’s your little friends, stirring up trouble again.” She says mockingly. She just loves to remind him he hasn’t caught them yet.
“They’re not my friends anymore.” He says simply.
“They’ve upped their little tactics since you found them on Jedha…” She looks at him and he can feel her smirk. “I wonder if they know…”
“I have no reason to believe they do.” He responds, ever calm and collected. Cal may be able to bring his anger out, but the other Inquisitors only annoy him.
“Hm.”
“It doesn’t matter anyway.” He yanks himself out of her hold and steps away. In the corner of his eye, he catches sight of Cal sitting cross legged on the wing of the ship. He rolls his eyes and ignores him, “They will be caught and dealt with.”
The Seventh Sister laughs, a high pitched, almost screeching sound. He is going to wring her neck, he’s sure of it.
But, as always, he restrains himself.
“Well,” She says, “Best get on with it.” She gestures him on into the city.
Mos Eisley isn’t pleasant, but nowhere is, so he deals with it.
The Dark Side nudges him forward, down the empty street and to the warehouse that lies at the end of it. Stormtroopers stand on either side, blasters at the ready and helmets following his every movement. A purge trooper and his support team are gathered at the end of the street.
He opens himself up to the Force a little, feeling out its guidance and flow. Echoes of Tatooine children and merchants linger in the sand, but he pays them no mind. He’s looking for something more.
“But moooom, I’m hungry!”
“That’ll be three credits.”
“We have water at home.”
“You want some death sticks?”
“Come on, faster, child.”
He pauses over the last one. He pushes further into it, lets it consume him.
“They’re coming, they’re coming! Go!”
“Master said-”
“Hurry!”
He pulls back. A smile spreads across his face as the Dark Side sings at him to keep going. There’s a Jedi at the end of this path.
He gestures for a few troopers to follow him and starts down the street. The Seventh Sister has left him alone for the time being, but he has no doubt she’s watching. He pushes her from his mind. It doesn’t matter that she’s watching. He will succeed all the same. He’s just thankful she’s gone.
He catches sight of Cal again, this time tucked into the shadows of an alleyway. He watches with an absent look, gaze following the Second Brother down the street.
The Second Brother continues on. He passes the purge troopers and gives them a brief command to guard the entrances but not to interrupt his search of the warehouse. He leaves them behind to disperse.
The Second Brother approaches the door. He lays his hand on the lock. The Force fills him, flooding his mind with visions.
A woman drags a child through the door, “Hurry Keti, faster now.” Her hand pauses on the lock as she looks out into the street. She’s searching for something; what though, he can’t see in the limited scope of the vision. The door slams shut a moment later.
He drops his hand and the vision fades. The echo was recent, still clear enough to see figures and faces. They’re inside, he’s sure of it.
He throws a force push against the doors. They bang against the sandstone walls as they fling open, hinges grinding with coarse sand. The clang reverberates through the warehouse until it fades into nothing, leaving the cobweb covered crates and boxes silent again.
He draws his lightsaber, but doesn’t ignite it.
Dust hangs in the air, still and silent.
He walks quietly down the aisle between the shelves of crates and shipping containers, the sand grinding under his boots. His footsteps echo through the room, bouncing off the high, empty ceilings. Light streams down from the barred windows up above. He finds its glare irritating.
He goes on down the aisle until the shelves drop away and he’s left in an open packaging area.
He frowns as Cal once again makes an appearance. He leans against a stack of half-packed crates, arms crossed over his chest. He meets the Second Brother’s gaze, mocking.
“Hunting children, are we?” He asks, tilting his head to the side in that infuriating way of his.
The Second Brother makes no response. He’s here to find the Jedi, not swap jibes with his hacked-off and dead limbs. He finds his patience for Kestis rapidly waning.
After the mockery in the depths of the Tatooine Fortress, his tolerance is far thinner.
Cal hums, “Ah, too afraid to talk to me now?”
He is not afraid. The Second Brother glares furiously, but refuses to respond. There is no room for weakness when it comes to hunting Jedi. He ignores Cal and pushes out into the force.
Where his echoes usually lead him, there is nothing but silence.
He frowns behind his helmet.
Had they escaped? When? Where?
“You’re a fool.” Cal comments, “You’ve already lost.”
The Second Brother growls, but jerks his gaze away from Cal. He doesn’t have time for the damn leech.
Before he can reach out to find the Jedi’s presence, there’s a blip in the Force. It ripples out, quiet and not quite a mind, but there.
He snaps straight. It’s something familiar, something he’s empty without.
It clambers up onto his shoulder, beeping enthusiastically, more alive than some beings. Somewhere in the distance, someone laughs, warm and low.
No, not him. Cal’s emotions are leaking back into his.
He yanks up his defenses and digs deep into his anger. He’s here because it left him. They all abandoned him. They left him. He was nothing before. Now, now he matters. The Dark Side is all he has left.
He doesn’t need anything else. He’s finally free. He won.
It shows him the world, Truth and Freedom. Reminds him the world isn’t so cold and the galaxy isn’t so empty. There’s life and there’s wonder if he’s willing to look for it.
No!
He is free. He doesn’t need their memories and warbling songs. He escaped them, all their expectations and grievances. The Jedi failed and he refuses to fall with them.
Why did they still plague him?
Cal pushes himself off the crates, stalking towards him. The twist of his features spell defiance and challenge, “You’re wondering how you’re still so attached?” He snarks, “Wondering ‘How I am I still not free?’”
The Second Brother snarls, “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Oh?” Cal tilts his head, “Don’t I?”
“Fuck off.” He turns away, pretending to search for the Jedi again. But he knows they’re gone. She took them. But it’s still here, somewhere between the boxes and shelves. He can hear its skittering, little metal feet scraping against the concrete floors.
“I see,” Cal says, “You enjoy hunting down children.” He takes slow, methodical steps back and forth across the room. “You’d like to see them go through the same things we did. You remember those days so well and you just want to impart that time upon others.” Cal smirks, “It’s a kindness, really.”
The Second Brother grips his lightsaber. “Why should I spare them?” He snaps, even though most of him doesn’t really believe it.
Cal frowns, “I suppose you think if you had to go through it, then everyone should.”
He glares, still looking anywhere but Cal. “It’s only fair.”
Cal’s quiet for a moment and the Second Brother almost thinks he shut him up for good, but a second later laughter breaks the silence. He looks over his shoulder to see Cal, head thrown back, cackling into the air.
He glares.
Cal lets out a last chuckle before meeting his gaze. He smirks, “You didn’t suffer, Second Brother.” He takes a step in his direction, “I did.”
The Second Brother turns to face him, “Oh, please. As if you could have survived without me.”
“That’s not the point, friend.” Cal approaches him, unarmed but determined. “I suffered. I was left in that chamber. I stood up to Vader and all those damn Inquisitors.” He narrows his eyes, “You swooped in as I lay dying and kept us alive.”
“What does it matter?” The Second Brother snapped, “Oh, you were the one to suffer, how tragic. But I saved us. I did what you could not. I wasn’t afraid of the Dark Side.”
“No,” Cal snarls, “You’re weak to it.”
The Second Brother ignites his lightsaber. The red blade flashes off his armor, sharp and bright in the dim warehouse. Fury, cold as the ice of winter and ever creeping frost, fills him. It doesn’t burn, not as it used to. Now it sits and festers. “I am not weak.” He hisses through his teeth.
Cal spreads his arms wide, “You can’t do anything to me!” He laughs, “I’m not even real!”
The Second Brother throws his lightsaber. It spins through the air in a wide arch, slicing through Cal’s chest before it returns to his hand a moment later. Cal looks down at his own body and raises an unimpressed eyebrow.
“See?” He gestures to himself, “Do you get it, Second Brother? I’m just a figment of your imagination.”
“No, no, you’re some trick of the Force, meant to deceive me.”
Cal shrugs, “Perhaps. But you know as well as I do.” He smirks again, “You could get rid of me whenever you want, if only you were strong enough for it.”
“Shut up.” He growls.
“But I think,” Cal goes on, “You actually want me here.” He approaches him, slowly, like he’s stalking something.
“Be quiet.” The Second Brother snaps.
“You see me as the only humanity you have left.” He continues, “The only thing tying you down. Without me, you’d be as crazy as those other Inquisitors.”
“You don’t know what you’re talking about.” Something dark and creeping latches onto his mind. It feeds his anger, forces him to release his tight grip on his control.
“I don’t?” Cal cocks his head to the side, “Really? Because I was so sure I knew you. After all,” He somehow closes the distance between them and, in an instant, stands before him, nose to nose. “We are the same.”
Control falls through his fingers, gone and burned.
The Second Brother explodes out into the Force. He lets out a roar that sends even the apparition of Cal stumbling back. He swings his saber through the air, slices through Cal’s chest, his neck, anything that’s close enough to hit.
Cal lets out a jarring laugh, “You can’t touch me!”
The Second Brother sends his power outward, shredding the boxes and crates around them. He flings shrapnel and pieces of metal beams at the figment.
The Dark sings in his ear, furious and wild, everything Cal was and is and everything the Second Brother has taken from him.
For a brief moment, Cal even looks afraid.
He screams behind his helmet because it feels like the world is ending and nothing matters because he’s lost it all.
Cal stumbles back, like he’s suddenly become corporeal. “Force, calm down!”
The Dark screams at him, shrill and bloody as it forces him forward. He can’t look back now, he can’t. If he does… if he looks back and sees what he left behind, he’ll stop moving and it’ll all be over.
“Cal! Stop!”
He ignores him and lets the Dark take him. His body moves on its own, without his consent or control. Debris spins around them, slamming into the walls and the few steel beams that are still standing.
“Don’t listen!” Cal shouts through the storm, “It’s lying to you!”
“It’s the only thing that has ever told me the truth!” He shouts, but the voice modulator muffles his words. “It never left me!”
“They didn’t either!” Cal cries.
Something blinds him, anger, grief, hatred- he’s not even sure. He throws himself forward and brings his lightsaber down on Cal.
Cal ducks down and raises his arms above his head, like that will stop the Second Brother, like that will stop the Dark Side. “Don’t!” He shouts, but his cry passes over the Second Brother and all his fury.
He doesn’t stop, doesn’t fight the Dark as it guides him forward. It pulls him down, all of him, not just Cal, but the Second Brother and everything he has built himself up to be. For a fleeting second, he wonders if Cal was right. If Kestis grounded him, reminded him he was human, he was different from all the other Inquisitors.
But it doesn’t matter now. Now, he’s lost, lost in the Dark, perhaps in the Force itself. There’s no escape, he realizes. He chose this. There’s no way out.
But, just as his blade falls upon Cal, the world stops.
The shrapnel freezes, suspended in the suddenly still air. All his anger, his fury and hatred slips through his fingers, falls to the floor never to be recovered. He chokes on the sudden emptiness. He’s left scrambling without his fury, without anything to cling to.
His surroundings fall away and leave him standing in a vast expanse of golden light, alone. A thin layer of water laps up against his boots, quiet and gentle, but ever moving, ever alive. The lake- the expanse, wherever it is- goes on and on, off into eternity, neverending, not that he can see.
A blurry shape hovers in the distance, too far to make out. His body moves without coaxing and he takes a step towards it.
Suddenly, as if he had been walking for a millennia, he stands before the figure.
“Cal,” They say.
And he recognizes them. “Master…” His voice cracks, though he’s not sure why.
Jaro Tapal turns to look at his apprentice. “Padawan…” He smiles slightly, “How are you?”
Cal- the Second Brother- stutters. “I… I don’t-”
“That’s okay, Cal.” Master Tapal reaches out, “You don’t have to say. I know.” He turns his hand up, an offer.
He doesn’t move to take it. “I-”
“I love you, Cal.” Master Tapal says, “I always have. I always will.” He gives him that easy look, like everything is simple again.
He looks at him. “I failed you.”
He doesn’t seem concerned. “You are my son, Cal. Never forget that.”
He considers him for another long moment. The water ripples as he moves forward, moves towards Tapal. Cal takes his hand.
He gasps as the water drops out from under him and he falls. He falls and falls and he’s sure he won’t ever stop falling again.
But then, the world comes rushing back and he’s back, standing in the warehouse with his blade hovering over the floor. Before he’s even fully aware, something beeps at him. Just below the buzzing red of his saber, a little droid looks up at him.
The flying shrapnel crashes to the ground abruptly, sending up plumes of dust and grit into the air.
He can’t breathe, can’t think.
The droid tilts its head and beeps at him again.
He doesn’t understand it. He doesn’t.
“Who-”
He jerks his saber up and away from the droid’s facial plate.
Why is it here? It shouldn’t be here!
No, no, no! Not this one too. He can’t lose another thing. Another… friend.
He just stares at the droid. The screen on his visor shimmers. The droid blinks at him… if a droid could blink.
He searches for the Dark, but somehow, it’s gone silent.
It takes a hesitant step towards him. He hates how he’s tempted to take a step back.
It lets out a short simple beep. The Second Brother understands it. He knows it so very well.
“Cal…?” The droid asks.
He recoils. “No!” He hisses, “Cal Kestis is dead.”
The droid moves closer, “Cal!”
“No!”
“We hoped-”
“Shut up!” He snaps. He grabs his saber and hooks it on his belt. “Cal Kestis is dead. I am all that remains.”
“You remember me?”
He doesn’t respond. He turns on his heel and starts towards the door. The droid doesn’t matter. It’s not worth his time. It’s a tiny BD-1 unit. It’s nothing to him.
He ignores the part of him that screams to go back. To ask BD where Merrin is, where Greez is, if they’re alive, if they’re okay. If he can go home. He shoves it down, turns away from it and flees to the comfort of the Dark. It’s easier, simpler. It’s the way things are meant to be. That’s it.
So, he leaves because it’s all he’s good at.
***
Merrin slips through the half-agar door of the warehouse. It creaks loudly as the hot, desert wind swings it back and forth, hinges grinding together.
She picks her way through the debris. Pieces of what had once been crates and equipment are thrown about the empty room. Half-destroyed shelves lean against the wall, like they had been slammed up against the concrete and left.
Whatever the Second Brother did here… Who in the universe was he searching for that he would leave this behind?
A faint beeping reaches her and a moment later, BD skitters out of wreckage.
“There you are, droid.” She says flatly, unable to admit that she’s genuinely relieved to see him.
He lets out a quick series of beeps too fast for her to understand.
She crouches down to get a little closer to his level. “Slower.” She says, “What happened?”
He jumps up, “Cal! Cal! It was Cal!”
She sucks in a sharp breath. The memory of his body broken in two over the back of a steel beam flashes through her mind. Vader, holding back the entire ocean and the quick glimpse she caught of her best friend before she was pulling Cere up to the surface.
“I don’t…” She doesn’t know what to say to that, “What?”
“The Second Brother! It’s Cal!” BD scuttles up her arm and perches on her shoulder, letting out another series of beeps too muddled for her to follow, but she catches “He’s alive.”
A strange, cold, wave of emotion washes over her. She can’t identify it, doesn’t know how: loss maybe, grief, horror, - does it matter?
Cal…
BD turns his facial plate towards her expectantly.
She rises from her crouch, surprised to find her legs shaking. She looks down at her hands. They tremble too.
Cal is alive.
She can’t stop shaking.
Cal is alive. He’s alive.
She looks up to see the destruction he left in his wake.
Cal is alive and they left him behind.