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Cere wakes up with a feeling of something being wrong .
It’s not uncommon for the Force to give subtle, nondescript warnings. A bad feeling, like they were usually called. Cere had had her fair share of them, both before and after the Purge. Even so, she can’t help but worry.
It’s quiet when Cere steps out of her room. The ship rumbles softly as the Mantis hurtles through hyperspace. Everyone else is asleep in their own rooms. She can almost hear Greez snoring through the durasteel wall. They’re well into their night cycle. Shouldn’t be arriving in a good few hours yet.
Or almost everyone else is asleep. Cal’s door at the back of the ship is wide open. When she walks up to the door the cot is empty. The blanket is strewn across the floor in a rumpled heap. All of his things are still in the room so he must have left in a hurry. Even BD-1 sits at the foot-end of the bed in low-power mode. He can’t have gone far though.
Cere picks the blanket up from the floor. She shakes it a bit before draping it over her arm and wandering down to the front of the ship.
It doesn’t take long to spot him. He sits on the sofa below the galley, hunched in on himself with his arms held protectively against his chest. His fists are clenched so hard his knuckles turn while. Even from a distance she can see how his body trembles. He looks impossibly young where he sits, hair a mess and tear tracks running down his face.
Cere feels a pang of sympathy in her chest.
It’s easy to forget how young he really is sometimes. Cal’s force presence, despite being shielded, radiates absolute terror and sadness and grief and pain, and so many negative emotions Cere loses track of them all.
Tentatively, she ambles closer to him. “Cal?” she says quietly. As softly as she can, not wanting to startle the teenager. “What’s wrong?”
Cal looks up at her for a moment before clenching his eyes shut and bowing his head with a shake. She hears his breath hitch as he curls further into himself.
Cere sighs as she walks around the table and sits down next to him. She places the blanket in her lap before she turns to him.
“Cal,” she tries again. Her arm hovers over him, unsure if it’s a good idea to touch him. She settles on carefully wrapping her arm around his shoulders. He doesn’t try to shake her off, so she takes it as a good sign and pulls him closer to her. “Did something happen?”
Cal is shaking hard enough to rattle her bones, but she’s able to settle him against her side. His muscles tense, locked in place.
“I can’t— I—” he chokes out through clenched teeth. Desperate and pleading. “I can’t s— can’t stop. I don’t—”
Cere rubs his back as Cal chokes back a sob. He breathes quickly and shallowly as he nestles further into her side.
It all feels very unfamiliar for Cere. Trilla had never really seeked out physical affection and care as a padawan, and Cere had never really been one to give it. But now, as she treads unfamiliar water, it comes to her almost naturally.
“It’s alright,” she murmurs as she drapes the blanket over him, tucking his head against her shoulder. “It’s alright. Just breathe with me, Cal. C’mon.”
The teenager shakes his head, but breathes with her. Shakily and a bit unsteady. She feels his warm breath tickle her collarbones. They have to start over multiple times, but Cere remains patient. She has no idea how long it takes before Cal’s violent trembling starts subsiding and his muscles relax slightly. Slowly but surely, the boy sags against her.
“You’re alright, Cal,” she tells him. “You’re safe. You’re not alone anymore.”
Cal lets out a shuddering breath. “I— I see him,” he whispers so quietly Cere almost doesn’t hear him. His voice cracks. “Everywhere.”
She doesn’t need to ask who he is.
Vader had come out of nowhere. Dangerous, powerful and absolutely terrifying. Trilla had looked absolutely petrified when she’d heard him. The fact that they even got out in the end was incredible. They’d survived on pure dumb luck.
“I thought— I thought you died .” He lets out something that sounds like a whimper. “He just—”
Cere only holds him tighter, wrapping both her arms around the young boy. He sniffles quietly into the fabric of her sleep-shirt. Seventeen, she thinks, is way too young. For any of this. If she could, she would take it all away and tuck him away somewhere safe. Him and Merrin both.
Instead, she tucks his head under her chin. “I know,” she mumbles. “But he’s not here now.”
“I— I can’t stop—” His breath hitches. “I’m scared all the time .”
“Oh,” she coos sympathetically. “You’ll be alright, Cal. I promise. We can sit here as long as you want.”
They sit there for a while. The only sounds in the ship being the rumbling of the Mantis and Cal’s shaky breathing. Occasionally he will tremor, but Cere makes sure to keep rubbing his back, hoping it’ll soothe him at least a little.
Cal’s breathing evens out. Cere pulls away to take a look at him. It must be nearing their day cycle, which means Merrin and Greez will be waking up again. She knows they wouldn’t mind, but Cal might.
She pushes his hair out of his eyes and smiles when it flops right back. His eyes are red and puffy. His cheeks are blotchy. His arms are still held protectively over his chest. He looks absolutely exhausted. He won’t meet her eyes, instead looking down at his lap. He’s a mess, but he looks considerably better than before. She dreads to think how long he would be sitting here like that if she hadn’t found him.
She talks to him, because that’s something she knows how to do. Something she’s comfortable with. Something she’s good at. Offering wisdom.
“You don’t have to talk about it,” she says as she gently grabs one of his wrists and lowers it into her lap. “But I want you to know that you can always talk to us. Both Greez and I are willing to listen. I’m sure Merrin would too.”
She unfolds his fingers. Finds little crescent indents in his palm from his fingernails, but it doesn’t seem to have broken skin. Cere strokes her thumb over his palm. “I think it would help if you talked about it.” She pauses for a second. “Even if it’s just to BD.”
Cere repeats to process with his other hand as Cal stares numbly down at their hands. She adjusts the blanket over his shoulders.
“Do you think…” Cal purses his lips. “Do you think Trilla would have come with us? If she…”
Cere sighs tiredly. “I don’t know,” she says honestly. “She might have.”
Guilt claws at her insides at the thought of her padawan. She had promised to protect Trilla and the younglings, only to get her hurt instead. She had been weak, and Trilla had suffered the consequences. Cere doesn’t blame her for becoming an inquisitor.
“She was hurt, and she wanted to hurt you too,” Cal whispers. “And she was angry. At you, a-and what you did. And me…”
“Because your master died to save you, and hers didn’t.” Cere finishes for him.
She thinks of Cal, running into the Mantis on Dathomir, scared and out of breath. Yelling to get them out of there. She thinks of Cal sinking to the floor, broken lightsaber in his hands. Breaking down and lamenting about how he had gotten his master killed.
She knows from experience that carrying such guilt is heavy.
She squeezes his hands. “If Jaro Tapal could see his padawan now he would be so proud of you, Cal.”
Cal looks up at her then, eyes shining and bright. “You think so?”
He sounds so small and hopeful in that moment that Cere she feels her heart break. She smiles at him, warm and bright and full of pride.
“I know he would be. You’re alive, that’s all he wanted for you. And you’ve come so far. Every day you make him proud by being you. He would be so proud of who you’ve become. I’m proud of you.”
Cal lets out a watery chuckle. He smiles at her, big and wide. Cere can’t help but mirror him.
“You always know what to say.”
Cere snorts and opens her arms and gesturing for him to hug her. “I try.”
Cal doesn’t hesitate to wrap his arms around her and buries his face in her shoulder. He holds her tightly, clutching the fabric of her shirt in his hands. She rubs his back with one hand and cradles the back of his head with the other.
“Thank you,” he murmurs. “For everything. I don’t know what I would have done if you hadn’t found me.”
“I’m glad we found you,” she replies. “I think you’ve helped us too.”
They pull away. Cal sniffles. Wipes his eyes with the back of his hand.
“You should go back to bed,” Cere says. “You’ll need your energy if you want to go exploring tomorrow.”
Cal perks up at that and nods. Cere helps him up to his feet. She places her hand on his back as she guides him back to his room. Socked feet shuffle against the floor for each step. She stops outside his door, hand hovering over the close button. She watches him flop onto his cot.
“I meant it when I said you could talk to us,” she says. “Think about it.”
Cal hums, muffled by his pillow.
“Goodnight, Cal.”
He’s already asleep. She closes the door and ambles back to her room, hoping to catch a few hours before the rest of the ship wakes up. She’ll let Cal sleep in though. It’s the least she can do.
She didn’t do right by Trilla, but she can try to do better for Cal now. She can be better.