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The first thing Merrin says to him when he sees her is that she’s leaving the Mantis. The words catch him off guard, roll over him like a tidal wave. He finds himself flailing to stay afloat. He’s kneeling beside her bed, forcing himself to breathe regularly and to fight the stinging in the corners of his eyes. He can’t do this without her. She’s the rock, the anchor that makes this whole thing possible.
He loves her.
He loves her and he needs her to stay.
Cal has to tell her how he feels, has to make her understand.
“What?” is all that escapes his lips.
“I must leave, Cal Kestis. I cannot be here. Our paths must now part so that I can heal from this.” Merrin looks at him, eyes determined, and he cannot see even a hint of hesitation in her expression. He can’t feel any doubt in the Force.
She wants this, he realizes, and that kills him in a way perhaps more painful than if she’d fallen in battle. Because this is still losing her, but she’s choosing that. She’s choosing that right here and right now, with him kneeling beside her bed like a fool. He’s staring at her, so proud and beautiful, propped up on her pillows with her side wrapped in bandages, and she wants to leave.
He doesn’t know what to say, and even if he did, he’s not sure he could bring himself to say it. She wants to go, and he isn’t going to stop her. This fight against the Empire doesn’t have to be hers like it has to be his. She’s a Nightsister. He’s a Jedi.
To the Empire, he is the target, and she is the afterthought— even if they are both Force sensitive. Even if they are both powerful enough to take down an Imperial base.
Instead of arguing, which he desperately wants to do, he nods. He’s numb.
“When are you going?” He finds himself asking.
“I will depart when we next dock at a port where I can hire a ship,” Merrin says. She folds her arms, as if she’s waiting for him to argue. But he won’t, he won’t make it difficult for her. He can, at least, do that much.
He rocks back, getting to his feet and trying to seem unconcerned while he leans against a wall and readjusts himself once, twice, three times. The wall is uncomfortable and cold and he can’t stop fidgeting. He hopes she hasn’t noticed.
“Where will you go?” Cal asks, and he’s horrified that his voice catches. He clears his throat.
“I do not know, Cal Kestis. Anywhere. Everywhere. I must go and learn what I can of my own Magick. I never wish to feel as I have these past few days.”
Cal’s spirit crumbles at her words.
He knows it’s his fault, knows that he let her down. That his lack of planning, his carelessness had gotten her hurt. Knows that his reaching for the Dark Side while she was writing in pain must have frightened her.
“I’m sorry,” he manages to say.
Merrin makes a face at his apology, and he doesn’t know what it means, but he can see the hurt and discomfort in the expression.
And then Cal knows. Knows that he’s not good enough for her. Knows that his foolish Attachment had caused her this pain. Knows that he’s not going to do anything to rid himself of the emotion that has overcome him.
He needs it. Needs her. Needs her the same way he needs air and water and food.
But right now he has to let her go. And his mind and soul are screaming at him not to let her. But what alternative does he have? He can not, will not force her to stay.
“If you need to go, Merrin,” Cal says and winces when she tenses up. He hesitates, letting out a painful breath as his heart breaks. “If you need to go then I’ll ask Greez to… to set a course for a planet with a large spaceport. One big enough for you to get where you want to go without the Empire being able to track you.”
Merrin is quiet for a long time, and when she does speak, she whispers: “Thank you, Cal Kestis.”
He can’t bring himself to say ‘you’re welcome.’ Instead, he says: “Somewhere in the Outer Rim.”
And then the reality sinks in. Merrin is leaving the Mantis, leaving him, and he doesn’t know what to do with the ball of emotions in his chest, the sick feeling in his stomach, or the lump in his throat. He wants to scream, he wants to cry, he wants to run away from this moment and pretend that it isn’t happening.
He has to get out of the room before he makes an even bigger fool of himself than he’s sure he already has. He’s scrambling, desperately, for something to get him out of there. He knows if he doesn’t his head will explode, and as it is his head is swimming anyway.
“I’ll— uh… go and talk to Greez about a— a change in…” And then Cal is in the hallway, breathing hard and wishing that Merrin had just let him talk first. He wants to believe that if she knew what she did to him, that she’d stay, wants to believe that she would find the little flip flops his stomach was doing endearing. But that wasn’t how things were.
Merrin is leaving, and there is nothing he can do about it.
He walks across the shared kitchen and living area in a daze, and barely notices that Cere is fiddling with something on one of the couches. He doesn’t stop until he’s staring at the holo-projection map that he uses to set coordinates for Greez.
When he starts looking at planets in the Outer Rim, he lets out a shaky breath that he didn’t know he was holding. He’s not okay, he realizes, but he has to act like it until Merrin is off the ship.
For the first time in a long time, Cal realizes just how cold the Mantis is. The warmth he’s come to associate with being here has left him, and he’s left standing in the cold, stagnant air of a space-ship that is nothing more than a hunk of metal and wires.
He looks at planets to try and keep his hands from shaking, to keep his breath even, and it kind of works.
He dismisses Jabiim and Ferrix. Both planets have too much of an imperial presence. No, Merrin will need something more closely aligned with organized crime. There are factions there that will look the other way if their palms are greased enough, and word of their arrival and departure can be delayed— if not erased entirely.
Eventually, Cal decides on Nal Hutta. He knows it’s a haven for criminals and that the planet is controlled by the Hutts. It’s perfect for Merrin, he thinks. Even if there is an Imperial presence there, they’ll play by the rules the Hutts set for everyone. And Cal knows from experience that the Hutts will let them come and go if the price is right.
And Cal is a Jedi. He can make the price right by taking a job or two for the Hutts, even if they are unsavory.
He sends the coordinates for Bilbousa Spaceport to Greez, and steps into the cockpit.
Greez looks up when Cal walks in, and waves an arm towards a chair. “Grab some seat, kid. How’d your little confession with the space witch go?” His tone is light, jovial.
And Cal crumbles.
Before he knows what’s happening, he’s wiping tears from his eyes and his breaths are ragged, but he doesn’t dare to make a sound. Merrin can never know what she’s doing to him. He can’t let her see that she’s broken him. It isn’t fair to her.
“Jeez, kid,” Greez says. “I was just kidding. What happened?”
Cal takes a breath to steady himself, and looks anywhere but at Greez. “She’s leaving, Greez. Leaving the Mantis.” He sniffles and wipes furiously at his eyes.
“What did you say to her?” Greez asks. “I mean, I’m not the smoothest Latero in the galaxy, but even I can get chicks, Cal.”
It’s supposed to be funny, Cal thinks. But at that moment it just… isn’t.
“Didn’t say anything,” Cal mutters. “She put her hand up to stop me before I even opened my mouth. Said she wanted to talk first.”
“And she told you she’s leaving?” Greez asks.
Cal nods, sniffling again. “Yeah.”
“Oh kid, I— I’m sorry. I really thought you two had a shot.” Greez pats him on the shoulder, which is awkward given the Latero’s diminutive stature and the space between them, but Cal appreciates the gesture all the same.
When Cal says nothing, Greez changes the subject. “Nal Hutta, huh? I hate that cesspool.”
Cal nods. He’s only been once, and that was with the crew of the Mantis. “The Empire doesn’t have any sway there. It’s controlled by crime syndicates and mercenaries. Merrin can charter a ship to wherever, and we can take a job and resupply.”
Greez hums thoughtfully. “Did you tell her anything, Cal?”
Cal shakes his head. “She doesn’t want to stay, Greez.”
“She might, kid. She might for the right reason.”
“She wants to go see the galaxy away from us. Away from our fight with the Empire. And I can’t say I blame her. She almost died , Greez. And it was my fault. If I had just—”
Greez cuts him off abruptly. “No, kid. You don’t get to put the blame for the Empire and their savagery on yourself. You’ve got enough on your plate without thinking that. Merrin got hurt fighting for what she believes in, and you got her out safe. That’s that.”
Cal rolls his eyes. “She got hurt fighting for what I believe in. For what Cere believes in. She’s Dathomirian. A Nightsister, not a Jedi. This isn’t her fight, and I shouldn’t expect her to die for a cause she has no stake in.” He sighs and sniffles again. “Just— just get us to Bilbousa.”
And then Cal is out of his seat and retreating from the cockpit.
“I was talking about you, Kid. She believes in you,” Greez says as he retreats.
But Cal doesn’t think so. How could she believe in him when he doesn’t believe in himself right now? He’s the one who lost control. He’s the one who reached for the Dark Side.
She’s just the one who got hurt.
Cal retreats to his own cot, in the engine room where the sound of the ship can help keep his traitorous thoughts away. The thrum of the engine is familiar, constant, and he can get lost in it while he sleeps or meditates or works on his lightsaber. Now he loses himself in it so he doesn’t cry anymore.
He sits on his cot and pulls his knees to his chest.
All that he has left is to wait, because he can feel the lurch of the ship as Greez changes course. Sooner than Cal could ever want, Merrin will depart the Mantis for the last time, and she’ll take all the parts of Cal that can beat The Empire with her.