Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The sky was dimming when Cal found himself alone on the clifftop with Bode. He breathed in still air and turned to look over the desert sand, squinting against the last remnants of the sun on the horizon. Bode slipped in next to him after Merrin, Cere and Greez left, easy as anything, not needing to say a word. Tomorrow they'd get the repaired compass from Master Cordova and then Tanalorr waited for them both. Safety. Security. A place to call home. Once they got there, they'd have all the time in the world for words; for now, the silence was enough as they both watched the sun disappear, and the insectoid buzz of desert nightlife drifted on the air towards them. 

“We'd better turn in,” Bode said, though he didn't move from Cal's side. “Big day tomorrow.”

Cal smiled, looking at Bode for the first time since the sunset. There had always been something about Bode that Cal hadn't been able to put his finger on. He'd trusted him so easily, even from that first disastrous mission together, and from then on they'd been back to jet-packed back. He reminded Cal of Merrin, of how it felt to be around someone who understood him from the very first moment they met. And here, now, Cal wanted more than anything for Bode to know how much he appreciated him.

“We did this,” he said. “You and me. I couldn't have done it without you.” 

Bode's smile was wry. “I helped once or twice around the edges,” he admitted. “Most of it while you weren't looking, mind you.”

“Well what I saw, I liked,” Cal laughed. He was drunk on peace, on accomplishment, the giddy feeling of a job well done. This was the downhill slope now, with just the finish line left. For some indescribable reason he wanted to put his head on Bode's shoulder. He settled instead for offering a hand. “Rest well, then.”

Bode grasped his hand and pulled him in for a hug. It was a brief, brotherly thing, and Cal savoured the feel of Bode's body under his arm, the solid dependence that Bode represented. For a moment, he was scared to let go. But when the hug ended, Bode kept hold of Cal's hand.

“You know,” Bode said, “at first I wasn't so sure about partnering up with a Jedi.”

Cal quirked his head, trying not to let his gaze linger on that dry smile that lit up Bode's face. “Yeah? Because you were afraid I'd show you up?” he joked. Why was Bode still holding his hand? Cal’s fingers twitched, wanting to hold tighter but not letting himself. 

Bode shrugged. “Maybe.” If he noticed, he gave no sign. “It's been a hell of a thing, keeping up with you and all your crazy ideas.”

“Hey, you like my crazy ideas!”

“I like your crazy ideas,” Bode agreed, and without warning his lips were soft against Cal's.

Cal made a noise of surprise, then melted into the kiss. It was gentle, agonisingly so, just a flutter of lips against lips. His heart sped heat into his cheeks, and his fingers curled around Bode's hand because that was the only other part of his body he dared to touch in the fragility of the moment. This was a bubble where only Cal and Bode existed, and there was nothing but soft lips and body warmth. 

Kissing Merrin had felt exhilarating, an explosion of adrenaline in the heart of the battlefront. With Bode, it was more like the lighting of a campfire on a cold, lonely night, the sudden warmth tingling his fingertips and toes.

The kiss was far too short, but when Bode broke away it was only so he could press their foreheads together and smile against Cal's mouth. “I can't tell you how glad I am you're kissing me back,” he chuckled. “That would have been embarrassing.”

“Bode.” Cal swallowed, but all he could manage was a whisper. “I-”

“I know, I know. You've got Merrin. There's Jedi stuff to think about. But… Well, I didn't want to miss my chance.”

He kissed Cal again, hard and fierce this time in a way that took Cal's breath away. Soft lips gave way to teeth, tongue and stubble, diving into him like a drowning man. His breath was hot on Cal's face, and both his hands settled on Cal's hips, pulling him closer until there was nothing between them, not even the cool desert air. Cal had enough coherent thought left to know that he was thoroughly and completely fucked, but if this was his last day in the galaxy, at least he'd die knowing the taste of Bode Akuna's lips on his own.

Bode pulled back again, leaving Cal gasping. The bastard had the audacity to wink, and Cal was suddenly glad they'd waited until the darkness could cover most evidence of how flustered he was.

“Rest well, Cal,” Bode said. “You've earned it.” He placed one final firm kiss on Cal's lips before he left, and Cal floundered in the space he left behind, his skin burning with heat that wasn't his own. For a long moment words hovered on Cal's lips, wanting to call him back, but nothing came out, and then it was too late.

From the open doorway, instead it was Merrin's silhouette that emerged, her face hidden by the lights from the monastery behind her. Without knowing how, Cal was struck with the certainty that not only had Merrin witnessed the entire exchange, but that Bode had wanted her to.

“I hope you are ‘resting well’, Cal Kestis,” Merrin said, and Cal was relieved to find that she sounded more amused than anything.

Cal exhaled hard, turned so his back was to the cliff wall and slid to the floor with a bump. Another deep breath made a start at bringing his heart rate back down to normal, though surely Merrin had already heard how out of breath he sounded. “I thought I knew what I wanted,” he complained. “Now I have no idea.”

“You live a complicated life,” Merrin observed dryly. “Why would your love life be any different?”

Cal had no answer to that. His recent kisses with Merrin and Bode were far from his first, but they were the first in a long time. Being both a Jedi on the run and a wanted terrorist weren't exactly conducive to a happy, long-term relationship, and he'd simply had other priorities. But with Tanalorr came the tempting promise of a normal life, with all that that entailed. Now the path before him branched into multiple possibilities, and he wasn't sure what he'd ever do with that much choice.

“Do not worry,” Merrin said. “You do not need to make a decision about anything tonight.”

Cal opened his mouth to say thank you - or should he be saying sorry? - but Merrin wasn't done with him yet. She was always pragmatic, always had her eyes on the road ahead. Never lost herself to emotions. Maybe she was more Jedi than he was.

“You should keep your focus,” she said. “The Hidden Path is relying on you to have a clear head tomorrow. Can you?”

Cal's initial response was one of petulance. His best friend had just kissed his brains out, of course he'd be able to navigate one of the most dangerous areas of space in the galaxy with Bode right there, without thinking about pinning him to a wall to return the favour. But he was a Jedi, for better or for worse, and he'd been trained better than that.

“I'm on it,” he said. “We've still got a mission to finish.”

But after Merrin left and Cal had the clifftops to himself, he couldn't stop his thoughts from replaying every moment of it, kiss by passionate kiss.

Chapter Text

The wail of an alarm announced itself in the Archive's rafters, and Cal didn't need Cere's assessment to know what that meant. 

“Imperial forces,” she said, sounding calm despite everything, scanning the readout from the monitor. “Coming in from every direction.”

Cal leapt into action like a well oiled spring. If there was one thing he knew, it was threat and response. “Evacuate your people,” he said to Cere. “We'll hold back the Empire as long as we can.”

The whir of a blaster powering up made Cal turn around. He'd spent all morning trying not to look at Bode; not because he had wanted to avoid him - quite the opposite, in fact - but because there wasn't the time or the space for the scale of conversation they needed to have about last night. Questions buzzed in Cal's mind, the ‘why’s and ‘what next’s that circled and circled without answers. He kept coming back to Merrin's words: keep your concentration, focus on the mission. Everything else could wait until after Tanalorr.

Although Merrin had been significantly less helpful this morning as she kept throwing him knowing looks that looked suspiciously like smirks.

Now Cal focused on the hard lines of Bode's face as he trained his blaster on Master Cordova, and tried to figure out what the hell was going on. 

There were three Jedi and a Nightsister in the room, with the Empire on the approach, but not a single one of them moved. Not a single one of them dared. Because all of them knew how deadly Bode was with that blaster.

“Bode!” Cal said, and it came out as a strangled gasp. “Wh-”

Bode didn't look at him. “Give me the compass,” he said to Cordova.

“Son,” Cordova said, gentle as always, acting like the barrel of a blaster at his chest was nothing more than a minor inconvenience. He looked tiny and frail next to Bode's bulk. “You don't have to do this.”

Bode pressed the blaster a little harder. “The compass. Now.”

The only noise in the room except for the ongoing siren was BD-1's beep of concern as Cordova passed it over. It was heavy in Bode's hand, freshly repaired and good as new. The culmination of months of work, and the true key to Tanalorr.

“Bode,” Cal breathed again, hardly able to believe what he was seeing.

“I really am sorry about this,” Bode said to Cordova, but the blaster glinting in the light of the Archive's data discs said otherwise.

Then Bode flashed a look at Cal, and the eye contact alone was enough to send Cal’s heart plummeting. This couldn't be the same Bode who had held his hand so tenderly the night before, who had kissed him so sweetly. Cal’s instinct should have been to reach for his lightsaber, but instead his fingers flew unbidden to his lips, chasing the ghost of their kiss.

Bode's eyes widened, and for a split second he faltered, his gun arm wavering as if he meant to lower it. The next moment, Bode fired. It was the blue halo of a stun shot, and Master Cordova dropped to the floor like a stone. 

The world melted around Cal, like wax overflowing from a candlestick and dropping, bead by bead, down the side. Tanalorr, the Hidden Path, the Archive - everything they'd worked for, fought for, killed for. Even this budding thing that Cal and Bode had started to build together the night before. And Bode was destroying it all.

“We'll handle it!” Cere shouted, but her words sounded like they were coming from far away. “You get the compass!”

Bode ran, so Cal ran after him, leaving everyone else behind. It was all instinct, just going through the motions. They raced on speeders into the desert, weaving through the first wave of imperial troops and walkers advancing on the Archive, but that was all just background noise. When Bode's speeder took a stray shot and Bode leapt into the air with his jetpack, Cal took the shortest route to join him by launching himself off his own speeder and clinging on until the jetpack collapsed under their combined weight. Together they pinwheeled down onto a mesa in a tangle of limbs.

Breathless and winded, Cal lay on the ground a few seconds longer than he needed to. He didn't want to get up, didn't want to have to face a reality where Bode had betrayed them to the Empire. Because if Bode was on their side, then what had been the point? Everything they'd done together, the people they'd killed together. The moments they'd shared together.

With a groan, Cal pushed himself up with his hands, then over onto his knees. Bode was already on his feet and extricating himself from the broken jetpack. One day Cal had hoped Bode would take him for a ride with that jetpack, once everything was done. Now it would never happen. As soon as he turned, Bode drew his blaster, but Cal stayed kneeling where he was, still and unmoving, trying to find anything in Bode's face that made sense.

“You shouldn't have followed me,” Bode said. He didn't sound angry, just desperate, but he didn't lower the blaster. “You should be at the monastery, protecting the Archive.”

Cal closed his eyes, though he could still feel Bode's presence, standing rigid and tense only a few paces away from him. Whether or not he was at the monastery, it was already lost. People would still die. Stormtroopers and Anchorites alike, their deaths would be on Bode's conscience, not Cal's. He had to trust that Cere, Merrin and Greez would get as many people out as they could.

“I need the compass.” Now Bode was pleading. “I know what you think, but it's not for the Empire, it's… Cal, it's for Kata, and-” Bode swore and placed a second hand on his blaster, leveled it towards Cal. “Say something,” he begged.

Cal had every right to be angry, furious even. But he had to believe that the Bode he knew and trusted was still there. Needed to understand. “We were going to go to Tanalorr together,” he said. “Kata as well.”

“No.” Bode shook his head. “No. You were going to give Tanalorr to the Hidden Path.”

“So they can help people like Kata.”

“And when the Hidden Path has kicked the Empire's nest too many times, what then?” 

“Tanalorr is safe from the Empire. That's the whole point.”

Bode laughed bitterly. “If the Empire finds out you plan to use it to train an army, then it won't be for long.”

There was truth in Bode's words, but there was also selfishness. He wanted himself and his daughter safe, but no one else. Everyone else he would push away, push back into the fight, leave them to be snapped up and broken by the Empire's creeping might. How many more children were there like Kata, with a parent killed by the Empire, who deserved to live outside of its shadow? 

“And me?” Cal asked quietly. “I've been running from the Empire since I was thirteen. Don't I deserve to be safe too?”

Bode lowered the blaster, let it hang by his side. “Come with me, then,” he said, eyes bright. “Forget the Hidden Path. Forget the Empire. You, me and Kata - we can leave it all behind.”

Cal's mouth went dry. What Bode was offering him was a gift. A chance at a future together - to kiss him, to hold his hand, to continue to make him laugh everyday for the rest of their lives. To meet Kata and give her the safety and security that she deserved, that Cal had deserved to have as a child. He wanted it so badly that his body trembled beneath him. But no choice like that came without a cost.

“Merrin.” Cal swallowed past sandpaper in his throat. “Cere, the others. I can't leave them.” For the first time, he allowed himself to worry about everyone left behind at the monastery. He glanced back the way they'd come, towards the battle raging at the monastery, too far away to properly see or hear. “Are they going to be okay?” 

Bode was unable to look Cal in the eye, but he said, “I wouldn’t have called the Empire to the monastery if I’d have thought you couldn’t handle them.”

“How thoughtful.”

“I didn't want to hurt you, Cal. You’re my best friend. I wanted us to be so much more. But how can I think about what I want when I’ve got my little girl to save?”

Cal closed his eyes again, had to look away. Whatever chance they'd had before, it disappeared when Bode decided to kiss him knowing full well that he was going to walk out in the morning.

“So, last night. It was to say goodbye,” Cal said, the words bitter in his mouth.

“Yeah,” Bode looked crestfallen. “I guess it was.”

So that was that, the answers Cal had chased Bode all the way out into the desert for. Slowly, Cal got to his feet. He had to keep his focus, keep a clear head. “I can't let you take the compass.”

Bode quickly raised the blaster again, the conflict inside him obvious even if he didn’t show it on his face. He took a step back, but there was nowhere to go. “Don’t push me, Cal.”

Cal smiled sadly. “If you wanted me to leave you alone, you probably shouldn't have made me care so much.”

Bode fired, but Cal was ready. His lightsaber cut through the blue stun ring, fizzled it into nothing. With his other hand, he pulled at the compass. Cal’s fingers brushed against it for a split second before a familiar force punched him backwards across the mesa, his feet skidding over the stone. The compass hung in the air, then flew back into Bode’s outstretched hand.

Nausea clawed at Cal’s stomach as he tried to grapple with this new revelation. It explained everything, and it explained nothing. “You… You’re…” Cal couldn’t bring himself to say the word.

From behind his back, Bode drew a lightsaber and it ignited red. For a moment Cal thought he was really going to be sick, until he recognised it as Dagan Gera’s, stolen from the still-warm body of the Jedi that Cal and Bode had fought together only a few days earlier. Heady relief flooded through him, despite everything. Bode was no Sith, no Inquisitor sent to kill him. He was a survivor, like Cal. There was hope for them yet.

But it was the hope that undid him, because between that and the ominous glow of the red lightsaber, he took his eyes off Bode's gun arm. Another stun shot enveloped him like a net, and the lightsaber slipped from his hand as Cal's world turned to black.

Chapter Text

Bode parked his Z-95 in the base's hangar and tried to go straight to Kata. His head was still reeling from what he'd done on Jedha and it was a miracle he'd made it all the way back here in one piece without crashing into an asteroid, or worse. The last thing he needed was for a junior officer to block his path, datapad scrolling incessantly in hand. 

“Commander Denvik wants a report.”

“I got back five minutes ago,” Bode snapped, trying to push past, but the officer stood her ground.

“I'm afraid it's an order.”

Bode sighed and ran a hand through his hair. He hadn't seen Kata in weeks, but he'd have to report to Denvik at some point or another, so it might as well be now. He nodded curtly and doubled back, heading for Denvik's office. As he walked through the white, bright halls of the base, he focused on pushing everything down: this was just a normal mission report, nothing more, nothing less. In his practical combat gear, he stood out from the other officers and their pristine white uniforms. You'd think Denvik would at least let him take a shower before reporting in, but orders were orders. 

“Come in,” Denvik said in response to his knock, so Bode stepped inside. Every time he saw Denvik's balding head, he wanted to crack it like an egg. Denvik was a weasley man who saw no difference between serving the Republic or the Empire, as long as he was in charge. But he was also Bode's boss, so Bode took a deep breath, schooled his expression and sat down. 

“You're back early, Akuna,” Denvik observed. 

Lying came easily to Bode, and lying to Denvik was no exception. “Mission's blown,” he said, not having to fake his irritation. “Local garrison got twitchy and decided to assault the monastery. The Jedi have all gone to ground.”

To someone who didn't know Denvik, he would appear to take the news well. But Bode knew that the tapping of Denvik’s fingers on his desk was evidence of a lack of control that Denvik rarely displayed.

“I told the patrol commander not to do anything without consulting me first,” Denvik said. “It's not like these army types to be so hasty.”

Bode shrugged. “You'll have to ask him then. And tell him at the same time that I didn't appreciate having to dodge AT-ATs on my way out.” What he didn't tell Denvik was that it was him who had advised Jedha's local garrison of a planned attack by insurgents at the monastery, knowing that intel of an imminent threat meant they didn't need to get senior approval for a pre-emptive strike. The patrol commander had probably been killed in the attempt, so by the time any inquest figured out what had really happened, Bode would be long gone.

Denvik's fingers continued to drum. “I'm surprised Kestis didn't take you with him.”

“He thought it would be safer if we split up.” Bode tried unsuccessfully to banish the image of Cal lying sprawled on the mesa, eyes closed after Bode's stun shot, but he kept his voice steady. “He'll comm me once he's found a new bolt hole. For now, it's a waiting game or nothing.”

“Hmm.” Denvik tapped a few buttons on his datapad. “You're sure he still trusts you?” 

Bode thought about the devastated look on Cal's face when he'd drawn his blaster on Cordova, then again when he'd been forced to use the Force to take back the compass. “Completely,” he said.

“And you?” 

“Me?” Anyone else would have been reprimanded for not adding a ‘sir’ to such a disrespectful question, but Bode was no ordinary officer. Denvik expected loyalty in his actions, but knew better than to demand deference in person.

“Are you sure you are still clear about your mission objective?” Denvik found what he was looking for on his datapad and, with a swipe, brought up a holographic image to hover in the air between them. It had been captured from far away, but was unmistakably Bode and Cal kissing in the dark, eyes closed and arms wrapped tightly around each other. Bode's fist tightened almost imperceptibly, trying to forget the feel of Cal's hipbone under his thumb. He had to fight not to let anything show on his face.

He had long suspected that Denvik didn't trust him, and had been spying on him in the field for some time. For the most part it made no difference, as the role Bode was playing was the one Denvik was expecting him to. But that night on the clifftops, he'd been too distracted by Cal's smile to watch his own back. It was lucky that his and Cal's speeder chase of out the monastery had taken them far away from any watching eyes, or Bode would be having this conversation in a cell instead of Denvik's office, and Kata would be the one to suffer for it.

But Denvik had him dead to rights. Bode was a man whose life - and that of his daughter's - depended on him being in control of himself at all times. He'd kept his true identity and intentions hidden from not only Cal, but Junda, Cordova and Dagan Gera as well, up to and including while Gera was trying to kill him, when it would have been so easy to use the Force to fight back. And yet, he hadn't been able to help being drawn into the vortex of Cal's passion, his fierce loyalty, his wilful determination, because Cal was everything that Bode wished he could be. Developing feelings for a mark, let alone acting on them, was a lapse in judgement so great it bordered on suicidal. But Bode had done it anyway. 

“My orders were to get close to Kestis.” Bode indicated the image with a flick of his chin that he hoped looked nonchalent. “I couldn't exactly get much closer.”

“Too close,” Denvik said, which to the casual observer would sound calm, but Bode heard the snapping undercurrent of anger. “And not necessary for the mission. Don't let your own feelings about the Jedi make you forget why you're here in the first place.”

Bode couldn't forget. Kata's future had always hinged on Bode being Denvik's good little agent, no matter what unsavoury things he had to do to earn that privilege. It was a price he paid gladly, every single day. Kissing Cal was the first thing he'd done for himself since longer than he could remember - and look where that had got him: back in this hateful office, and Denvik's unspoken threat to Kata clear.

He nodded once, not trusting himself to speak again without showing how badly he wanted to take Denvik's smug look and shove it down his throat. None of this mattered anyway. Cal was gone, left behind on the sands of Jedha. And once Bode got Kata safely out of Nova Garon and they were on their way to Tanalorr, no Imperial would be able to tell him what to do ever again.

—

It wasn't obvious on the approach (why would it be?) but Cal quickly worked out that Nova Garon was an ISB base. Everything was too clean, too bright, too well-guarded for a regular military instalment. While the ISB could never match the Inquisitorius for raw power, they were a whole other level of dangerous compared to regular Imperials, and Cal would rather not tangle with them if he could help it. But he grit his teeth, stuck to the shadows and kept moving forward. If he wanted to find Bode, he needed to press on.

He had a pit in his stomach that hadn’t gone away since Jedha. As Bode had predicted, Cere and Merrin had managed to hold off the Imperial troops at the monastery, and the evacuation had gone largely to plan, with Greez flying everyone to safety afterwards on the Mantis. Cal had woken up dizzy and uncoordinated on the mesa, with Bode nowhere in sight and the remains of the monastery smoking pitifully on the horizon. While Cal had always felt slightly uncomfortable there, with the fawning Anchorites and Cere’s hand over everything, he knew what its loss meant.

He also knew he should be angry. The flame of anger tugged at his insides even now, wanting to be used, but it was smothered by a sadness that Cal couldn’t name. It weighed down his shoulders as he crawled into ducts to avoid cameras and probe droids and worse.

There was one thing about Bode that Cal was certain about: Bode loved his daughter. It had been Cal’s idea to use the locator beacon to find out where Bode had gone before returning to the Abyss, and he felt almost guilty about it. Maybe he should admit defeat, let Bode and Kata have Tanalorr, and find a new home for the Hidden Path somewhere else. But no one else had heard Bode’s desperate pleas on the mesa, and of the rest of them, only Merrin knew about the kiss. “We can’t possibly prioritise one man’s safety over hundreds of other refugees,” Cere had said rationally, ending the argument, and Cal hadn’t been able to tell her that he was tempted to do just that.

It must have shown on his face though, because Merrin had come to find him later, as he was preparing to enter the base. “What will you do when you find him?” she asked.

“Right now, I want to punch him in the face,” Cal had replied, but she knew him better than that.

“That is not what I was asking.” Merrin had sat down next to him, put a hand on his knee until he looked at her and couldn’t hide the fact that his vision was blurry with heartbreak - not just for the Bode who had kissed him, but the Bode who had fought by his side, teased him at the cantina, always cared too much. And although she’d let him cry on her shoulder, he still couldn’t bring himself to tell her that Bode was a Jedi. It wasn’t his secret to tell.

To the others, Cal was here to retrieve the compass, one way or another. But Cal was here for Bode, and Bode alone. 

The feeling in Cal’s stomach got worse the further he got into the base. There were an alarmingly small number of reasons why Bode would be at an ISB base. He was either a captive, an infiltrator like Cal, or an insider, and none of those options were great. BD-1 managed to slice a lone console they came across, but Cal couldn't find any mention of Bode or Kata Akuna in the prisoner records - which was half a comfort and half made him shiver with anticipation.

He pressed on. A couple of KX security droids took him by surprise in a long corridor, slamming him to the ground before he noticed they were there. Once he got back to his feet, Cal made quick work of them with his lightsaber, but that was the end of his stealthy infiltration attempt. An alarm blared to life overhead and now every damn droid and soldier in this place would be on high-alert. It was just as risky to go back as go forward, so Cal kept going, urgently now, slipping with BD-1 through hatches and panels that were supposed to be used by maintenance droids only.

He emerged into a round central chamber, deserted but the alarm still screaming, with a console in the middle that Cal was sure would allow him to find Bode's location. He realised something was wrong a split second too late - and by then the defensive bulkheads had slammed shut, and a door opened to reveal a veritable army of broad-shouldered DT sentry droids, each armed with a crackling electrostaff. 

A trap, and one with tall odds even for him.

Cal drew his lightsaber, unable to go down without a fight. There wasn't time to think about escape as the droids swarmed him, attacked from every side. He destroyed five, then ten, but they kept coming, and Cal was tired. An electrostaff slipped past his defences, jammed into his side, made his body convulse. The next attack struck his jaw, sending him spinning into unconsciousness. 

When Cal woke, it was to an explosion of agony. It lasted one second, another, then disappeared, leaving him gasping but unable to move. Cold metal encircled his wrists, ankles and chest, pinning him in place.

“Ah,” said a voice, smooth and clipped and unmistakably Imperial. “The rogue Jedi Cal Kestis. I always knew the first time we met you'd be strapped to an interrogation chair.”

Chapter Text

Cal groaned, trying to pick apart all the different bits of his body that hurt. His ribs throbbed like someone had kicked him while he was unconscious - or had that happened before then? - and a bright light stabbed into his eyes. Although he couldn’t make out the face of the man behind it, the ISB officer’s uniform he wore glowed white.

“You’ve been thinking about me? That’s flattering,” Cal muttered, blinking heavily. BD-1 was nowhere to be seen, but his lightsaber and blaster lay untouched on a table in front of him. “Bit weird though.”

“I am Commander Lank Denvik,” the Imperial said. A senior ISB officer, then, but not one smart enough to know that it was always a terrible idea to leave a Jedi in the same room as his lightsaber. He stood, came into the light, and Cal almost laughed. Denvik was a slight man, reedy in his old age, and without the chair to hold him back, Cal could have snapped him in half like a twig. “Welcome to Nova Garon. How did you like the welcoming party?”

“I’ve had better,” Cal admitted. There would probably be a bruise on his jaw too; just moving his mouth hurt and his teeth were coppery with blood. A headache lurked somewhere behind his eyes and he had a feeling it wouldn't be going away anytime soon. “The alarm was an earworm, I’m going to be hearing that one in my sleep.”

Denvik cleared his throat. Behind him, a probe droid hovered like a shadow, red light blinking a regular rhythm. “I trust you understand your position, Jedi. There will be no escape. If you cooperate, I will consider not handing you straight to the Inquisitorius.”

Despite himself, Cal couldn’t suppress a shudder. He knew what happened to Jedi who ended up in their grasp, had felt the agony of Trilla's despair. She'd been strapped to a chair just like this one in the fortress on Nur, as the Inquisitorius took away not only her freedom, but her humanity. Cal glanced down again at his lightsaber. This Imperial pig was no Darth Vader, and all he needed was an opening.

“We'll start with a simple question,” Denvik said. “Where are Jedi Masters Junda and Cordova?”

That was an easy first question, because Cal actually didn't know. Greez had dropped Cere and Master Cordova off with the remnants of the Anchorites before he, Cal and Merrin came here to get the compass. Master Cordova had work to do to restore the data rescued from the Archive, and the Hidden Path never slept. Still, Cal wasn't going to miss an opportunity to lie to an Imperial. “Dead,” he said, “thanks to your attack on Jedha.”

Denvik pursed his lips, but it didn't matter if he believed him or not. Cal just had to waste enough time until he could twist his hand into a position to pull his lightsaber.

“We can extract the truth the easy way, or the hard way, Jedi.”

Cal struggled not to sneer in response. If Denvik was going to threaten him, he could at least be a little creative about it. Instead, Cal inspected his restraints under the guise of turning his face away. The metal bands were nasty little things: sharp-edged and tight enough that every little wriggle towards his lightsaber made them cut into the skin of his wrists.

The silence stretched. Denvik shifted from one foot to the other, and Cal allowed himself to enjoy the Imp’s obvious discomfort.

“Let's try a different question, then,” Denvik eventually said. “Tell me everything you know about Bode Akuna.”

Cal’s heart skipped a beat. Was that a trick question? He'd seen Bode's ship parked in the base's hangar, he knew he was here. The base commander had to know that, even if Cal gave Bode the benefit of the doubt and assumed he was here to rescue his daughter from ISB clutches rather than as an employee. Either way, Cal wasn't going to give Denvik what he wanted, so he wet his lips and said, “Never heard of him.”

“Come now, Kestis.” Denvik drew his datapad and projected a holographic image off the surface: a tiny Cal and Bode, entwined together. “Our reports indicate you two have grown quite close since Coruscant.”

Cal's first instinct was to be offended at the lack of privacy. The Empire had been spying on them? It was jarring to see so intimate a moment being put on display by a man he was rapidly beginning to despise. His second instinct was to lie again. “Oh, that Bode Akuna. He's dead too.”

“Funny,” said Denvik, straight-faced. “Because I spoke to him not several hours ago. And he told me in great detail about the lengths he's gone through to earn your trust and bring you here.”

Bode was with the ISB. It shouldn't have cut as badly as it did, because he must have known it was true all along, but a deep sadness tugged at Cal's chest that he couldn't hide. Denvik saw it on his face and smiled.

“He gave us plenty of notice that you were on your way. That little trap you fell into was set up well before you arrived.”

So, the Empire had been waiting for him, and that fact alone made Cal shiver, because how could Denvik have known unless Bode had told him? Denvik was attempting a cruel game here, but Cal could still refuse to play. He'd come here for Bode, to find the truth, and that hadn't changed regardless of how much Denvik was trying to rattle him. If Bode had lied about everything from their friendship to his reasons for taking the compass, then Cal wanted to hear it from Bode’s lips, not Denvik’s.

"It was foolish of you, Kestis, to have trusted so easily. Embarrassing, even. Clearly Akuna secured your loyalty without effort. Was it the sob story about the daughter and the dead wife? Or did he promise you something else? Riches? Power?” Denvik directed a sneer at the hologram. "Love?"

Cal had heard enough. He reached out with the Force and yanked for his lightsaber. In the same second, agony exploded through every part of his body. Electricity arched along each limb, crackling blue, ripping a scream from his throat. The lightsaber dropped to the ground with a clatter, but the pain kept going, kept going, kept going. Only when Cal didn't think he could scream any longer did it stop, leaving him heaving against the restraints.

Denvik had been goading him into making a move, Cal realised. He fought to control his breathing again, but a slow panic was working its way through his trembling limbs and into the pit of his stomach. For the first time, he felt truly trapped by the restraints that pinned him to the interrogation chair, felt how close this room's cramped walls and ceiling were. Through the roaring in his ears, it took him a few moments to even realise that Denvik was speaking again.

“-their undoing.” Gone was every trace of incompetence that Cal had sought to exploit: instead Denvik's eyes were fixed unnervingly on Cal's face, his smile like a predator who'd just cornered his prey. “Are you really so arrogant as to think that you're the first Jedi to be held captive here?”

The corners of Cal's eyes were wet with tears of pain. Of course he knew that not every Jedi escaped Imperial clutches - Trilla was proof of that, and Cere had only escaped her imprisonment through the sick power of the dark side she'd tapped into. Who knew how many Jedi had survived the Purge only to end up here, doomed not by the treachery of the clones or the brutality of the Inquisitorius, but the slow-marching bureaucracy of an ISB that hunted them down without sleeping. Cal had been prepared for the Empire to send someone to kill him - had faced that threat more times than he could count - but to send someone to become his friend was a new level of evil he’d never anticipated.

Cal didn’t know how Bode had escaped the Purge, or how he’d ended up luring Jedi into ISB clutches. The level of control he must possess to conceal his true nature from other Jedi as well as the ISB was astounding, walking a knife edge every single day between discovery and oblivion. Cal couldn’t fathom why would someone choose to do that - unless he had no choice, or was doing it to protect someone he loved. And how could Cal ever hold that against him?

No, whatever hold the ISB had over Bode, it had to be Kata. It had always been her. If Cal could rescue her, take her away from Imperial clutches, then maybe he and Bode stood a chance. Not that Cal was rescuing anyone until he rescued himself.

Denvik picked up Cal’s lightsaber and placed it back on the table next to the blaster Bode had given him. “Hope is a terrible thing, isn't it?” he said, rolling the lightsaber over so that it faced Cal. “Go for your weapon again, and believe me when I say, I can do worse.”

Cal swallowed and tasted blood in his throat. “Fuck you,” he hissed, his voice coming out raw.

Denvik smiled again, and this time Cal believed the malevolent glint in his eyes. “No witty retort this time, Kestis? Perfect. Let's start from the top, then.” He patted the black body of the probe droid next to him. “Oh, and do remember to smile for the camera. I'm looking forward to showing Agent Akuna everything.”

—

Bode had Kata in his arms when the station alarm went off. The look on her face when he'd walked into the room after Jedha had been so beautiful that it made everything else disappear - his guilt at what he'd done, the sadness of leaving Cal behind, and the constant fear of Denvik watching over his shoulder. She'd thrown herself at him, and refused to let go even now, a few hours later. He murmured to her softly, stroked her hair and told her how much he loved her. Loved her more than she would ever know, because he would never tell her what he'd had to sacrifice to keep her safe.

These were the moments he cherished the most. Usually the deep undercurrent of unease he felt alongside them was because he knew he would be leaving again soon, sent off on some other mission at the behest of Denvik's unknowable whims. This time, it was something different. Soon, he and Kata would make their break for Tanalorr, and they'd either be free or die trying.

She was only young, and had already been through so much: the loss of her mother, their dizzying spell on the run, and then the last few years lonely, bored and neglected on an ISB base that was as much her home as it was her prison. Some of the staff looked after her while Bode was away, but their care began and ended with Kata getting food and sleep. When he asked her what she'd been doing while he was away, Kata only shrugged, hugging her Mookie doll close to her chest. Bode would give anything and everything for her to be a normal child - free to play, and laugh, and not have to worry about anything. But as long as the Empire existed, Kata would always be in danger. 

When the alarm went off, Kata flinched. “It's okay,” Bode reassured her, lying to her like he lied to everyone else. “It's nothing to worry about.” But after the alarm stopped, he convinced her to go to the other room and fetch some toys so he could quickly check his datapad. False alarm, said the official announcement from Denvik. All units stand down. It wasn't unheard of: sometimes the station's sensors got triggered by asteroids or other floating debris, but paranoia was what had kept Bode alive after Order 66.

Bode stood and followed after Kata. It was time to get going - and the sooner they got out of here, the better.

The second message from Denvik came after another several hours of frantic packing and preparing. Bode's last job was back at the hangar, refuelling and checking over the Z-95 ready for their journey into the Abyss. This time, the message was to Bode only: Come to Interrogation Room 001. He could only be glad that Kata was still in their quarters, and wasn’t here to see the colour drain from his face, the hangar suddenly feeling icy cold.

Did Denvik know? Bode replayed their last conversation in his head, looking for where he might have slipped up. But Denvik still had no idea about Tanalorr or the compass, he had no reason to think Bode was about to run away. For a moment Bode was tempted to head straight back to his quarters, get Kata and go before they lost their chance, but he knew they'd never make it. Not with Denvik actively looking for him. No, he only had one choice, and that was to continue playing this life-or-death game, one more time.

Bode took a deep breath, steadied his shoulders. At the last minute, he decided to leave both the compass and Dagan Gera's lightsaber, neither of which had left his person since he got them, in the Z-95. If Denvik wanted to look for evidence of guilt on him, he'd find none. If Denvik wanted to question him, let him ask away, and Bode would find the right answers as he always did. As soon as Denvik's back was turned again, Bode and Kata would disappear.

He walked to the interrogation room like a man with nothing to hide, and rapped his knuckles firmly on the door. When the door hissed open, he wasn't sure what he'd expected to see, but it wasn't Cal. 

Cal looked terrible, body hanging limply from the straps of the interrogation chair. His face was grazed and swollen on one side, his eyes were glassy, and he barely even blinked when Bode came in.

Bode turned on Denvik. “What the fuck is this?” he demanded. “You have my mark strung up in your torture chamber and didn't think it was important to tell me?”

“Stand down, Akuna,” Denvik ordered, and Bode bit back another angry retort to take stock. The small room was crowded: alongside Cal and Denvik were two stormtroopers, guns in hand, and a probe droid studiously recording everything. A stout table housed Cal's lightsaber, and an IT-0 torture droid hovered next to Cal's head, inactive for now, but ready and waiting. No matter how incapacitated Cal was, Denvik clearly still feared him enough to not be in the room alone with him.

“Kestis and I have just been having a little chat,” Denvik continued, aggravatingly conversational, like he was inspecting his fingernails instead of one of the Empire's most wanted fugitives. “Interestingly, he's still trying to protect you. I'm starting to think that his feelings for you might be genuine.”

“Protect me?” Bode's head was reeling. Was this his fault? Had the same probe droid that captured their kiss followed them across the desert, found Cal's unconscious body on the mesa and alerted the ISB? Not for the first time, Bode had to suppress the urge to shoot Denvik in the throat and feed him to his own torture droid, piece by bloody piece. Even if Bode managed to take out everyone in this room, he'd never make it off the base with Cal and Kata, not with Cal in the state he was in. 

“I told him where your true allegiances lie,” Denvik said, “but he doesn't seem to want to believe me.”

Bode studied Cal's face, but it was difficult to read anything there. His unfocused eyes showed he'd been drugged, which was as much an exercise in futility as cruelty: a mind probe would never work on a Jedi as well-trained as Cal, though it wouldn't be pleasant for him either. Did this mean that Cal hadn't told Denvik about the compass, about Bode's betrayal? Cal's stubborn loyalty would be the death of him, but right now Bode was more grateful than he could ever put into words. 

“Perhaps he'll believe you,” Denvik suggested.

“He's in no state to believe anything right now,” Bode retorted, sharper than he meant to. His nerves were frayed, and Denvik was pushing him closer to the knife edge. He wanted to cut Cal down from that horrible chair and shield him from whatever else Denvik wanted to do to him, but he remained frozen in place. One wrong move, and he lost Kata and Cal, both at the same time. 

“Humour me,” Denvik said. “Tell him who you really are.”

That was an order. Denvik was punishing him for kissing Cal, for daring to care about someone who should only ever have been a target. And testing him, he realised a split second later. If Bode didn't do this, Denvik would make him pay, one way or another.

Cal lifted his head when Bode stepped forward, and looked into his eyes for a moment before his gaze slipped away again. Bode's heart was thumping, but he kept his voice even, like he'd been trained to do. “Hey, Scrapper,” Bode said.

“Bode,” Cal croaked. He clearly barely even knew where he was, but his eyes found Bode's again. “You came back.”

Bode recognised that rasp in Cal's throat, and his heart sank. So, the chair had already been put to good use, then. He had to resist the urge to reach up and brush the hair away from Cal's damp forehead, to soothe the pain he was so obviously feeling, but his hands were tied. Metaphorically, for now.

“Agent Akuna,” Bode corrected him. This is what Denvik wanted and so this is what Denvik would get. “Operating number ISB-329, based at the II-0810 Satellite Station at Nova Garon. My mission was to ingratiate myself to Jedi Knight Cal Kestis in order to gain intel on known insurgent Saw Gerrera and any other Jedi remnants.” He hesitated, but only just. “I infiltrated your crew at Coruscant and have been reporting your movements back to the ISB ever since.”

To his credit, Cal barely reacted, though whether that was through some remnant of self-control or an effect of the drugs remained to be seen. If Bode was lucky, Cal wouldn't remember this conversation at all. If Bode was luckier still, Cal would understand that there was far more that Bode hadn't shared with the ISB than he had. 

“Satisfied?” Bode asked Denvik with a glare. 

“Almost,” Denvik said, looking at Cal thoughtfully. 

“I thought we agreed that bringing Kestis into custody wasn't the best way to get intel,” Bode said. He moved back to Denvik's side, trying to ignore the two stormtroopers who'd been quietly listening to every word. “If you wanted him in binders, I've had plenty of opportunities before now.”

“Oh, this wasn't my choice. Kestis made it himself by coming here.”

“Here?” 

“I had a hunch he was on his way, and made sure we were ready.”

“I'm sorry?” Bode couldn't believe what he was hearing. “Are you telling me you knew Kestis was coming and you still didn't think to tell me?”

Denvik fixed Bode with a look that was as cold as the asteroid this base was built into. “After reviewing the footage of your, ahh - ‘intimacies’, shall we say? - it was the only logical conclusion to draw.”

For a few seconds, Bode was speechless. “You think I brought him here?”

“I don't think,” Denvik said. “I know.”

Dread was rising inside of Bode alongside anger. If that was Denvik's conclusion, then everything else here had just been a game, a lothcat toying with its prey before going in for the kill. “You can't know anything,” Bode snapped, “because it isn't true. Why would I want Cal here?”

“Why indeed?” Denvik asked with a smile, and Bode had seen that look on Denvik's face before, when he finally revealed the last piece of information he knew was going to break someone. “After Kestis arrived, I did a little digging, and guess what I found on your ship?”

Oh, fuck. The locator beacon. Bode hadn't remembered it was there, because he'd been doing his best not to think about Cal at all. But it had been there transmitting all this time, drawing Cal back to him. 

A kiss and a simple moment of forgetfulness: that was all it took to undo years of hard work, years of sacrifice. All because he hadn't been able to bear the thought of never seeing Cal again without letting him know how much he'd really meant to him.

“I didn't…” Bode started, but for one of the first times in his life, words failed him. It didn't matter that he hadn't brought Cal here deliberately, because he'd still brought Cal here. That meant that everything Denvik had put Cal through was Bode’s fault. It also meant that Denvik would never trust him again.

The stormtroopers took a step forward and Bode realised the truth far too late. They weren't here for Cal. They were here for him.

“Soldiers,” Denvik said. “Please place Agent Akuna under arrest.”

Chapter Text

Bode didn't hesitate. He no longer viewed the Force as his ally, but it still came when he called: with one hand he threw both advancing stormtroopers back, and with the other he pulled for Cal's lightsaber. It flew into his hand and immediately Bode had the blade ignited against Denvik's throat.

“No,” he growled. “I won't let you take away my life a second time.”

Kata was still back at their quarters, cradling her Mookie doll and waiting for him to return for the final time. If he let Denvik lock him up now, he would never be allowed to see her again. He’d rather kill his way through this entire base than give up on his last chance to free her.

Denvik was carefully keeping still, but he looked as unimpressed as ever. “I saved your life, you ungrateful skug.”

“You made it hell!” Bode had spent so long holding in everything he wanted to say to Denvik that he struggled to spit the words out now. “Everything, everything you did was to torment me.”

“Well, then.” Denvik's eyes glimmered with malice. “Next time you want to cut a deal, maybe I won't be so generous.”

Bode stole a glance at Cal, whose eyes were tracking the blade of the lightsaber, not alert but at least focused. For the first time in a long time, he had more than just Kata to think about, and the prospect of saving not one but two people from this hellish place made his mouth go dry. Cal was drugged and weak, and attempting to escape with him was objectively a terrible idea because it would make it that much harder to fight his way back to Kata, but Bode couldn't live with himself if he didn't try. “Release him,” Bode demanded.

“Where will you go, Akuna?” Denvik asked, palms open. “Without my protection, Inquisitors will hunt all three of you down like the vermin you are.”

And there it was: the confirmation Bode needed that for all his spying and sneaking, Denvik still knew nothing about Tanalorr. A thrill of victory ran through him. He’d never even permitted himself to dream of a future where he, Kata and Cal made it to Tanalorr, just the three of them safe against the Empire, but right now he felt like he could touch that dream with his fingertips. “I said,” he hissed, shifting the lightsaber so that Denvik could feel the heat of it on his skin, “release him.”

The stormtroopers were back on their feet, but hesitating to make a move. With a wave of his hand, Denvik ordered them to stand down. “So predictable,” he said. “You always did wear your heart on your sleeve, even when you thought you were hiding it. What will you do if I don't free him? Kill me?”

It was tempting, but Bode would need Denvik as a hostage to convince the rest of the station's garrison to stand down if he wanted any chance of getting all three of them out alive. “I'm not against taking a limb or two first, if you'd rather,” Bode suggested.

“No,” Denvik said simply. “I don't think so. Did you honestly think I wouldn't take precautions against your obvious treachery?”

“You're the one with the lightsaber at his neck.”

“And your daughter is the one with a blaster at hers.” Denvik nodded at the probe droid. “You're being watched, Akuna. My orders were that if anything should happen to me, it'll be done ten-fold to poor little Kata.”

The shock felt like spikes of ice impaling each of his limbs. “You're bluffing,” Bode snarled. 

“On the contrary.” The smile was back on Denvik's face. “I had Kata brought into custody the moment I summoned you here. Would you like to see her?”

Bode nodded mutely, unable to trust himself to speak. He didn't move the blade but allowed Denvik to tap on his datapad. He'd seen this happen before, when Dagan Gera had broken into his mind and forced him to see visions of his greatest fears: Kata, scared and alone, with stormtroopers battering down the door. Then, it had almost driven him mad with panic, unable to distinguish between the visions and reality. This time, he had no helpful BD-1 to wake him from the nightmare, no Cal to soothe away the worry with a bright smile.

Denvik held up the datapad: a live feed, Kata's pale and tear-streaked face next to the white and black helmet of a stormtrooper. Bode dropped the lightsaber like he'd been burnt by it, blade retracting as it hit the ground. Immediately, Denvik waved the stormtroopers over and Bode let them push him to his knees and lock his hands into binders. He was going to lose everything he cared about - and maybe he deserved it, but Kata and Cal didn't. They were just victims of his failures.

“Well, now,” Denvik said once the stormtroopers were happy that Bode had been secured. One of them passed him Cal's lightsaber, and it looked so out of place in his hands that at any other time Bode would have laughed. “Was that so hard?”

There was nothing Bode could do, no solution he could force into existence. Denvik had all the cards and anything Bode did would only make it worse for Kata and Cal. His heart ached with a grief he hadn't felt since Tayala’s death, squeezing his chest until it felt like he couldn't breathe. He was no longer a spy, or an agent, or a Jedi; just a father on his knees, begging for his daughter's life. “Please don't hurt her,” he whispered, unable to speak any louder past the pain in his throat. “She's just a child.”

Denvik raised his eyebrows. “I thought you didn't like my deals? No, there will be no agreement, no negotiation. Kata will remain under my care, and you will be remanded into custody while I decide your fate.”

The stormtroopers yanked Bode to his feet, hands firmly on his shoulders as they pushed him towards the door. Bode drifted along with them, barely able to feel his own body beneath him. It didn't matter what happened to him, but he would fight until his last breath for Kata, no matter what it took. 

“Bode?” The voice from behind them was Cal's and all four of them turned to look at him. Cal's eyes were still unfocused but his face was twisted with concern, and he said his name with such tenderness that it made Bode’s knees weak. He'd dragged Cal into this hideous web of betrayal, but he couldn’t risk Kata, and he knew without a shadow of a doubt that Cal wouldn’t want him to. Not even if it meant leaving Cal at Denvik’s mercy once again.

“Cal,” Bode choked, hoping Cal would hear the apology he couldn’t voice, before a stormtrooper’s hand on his back shoved him out of the room and the door hissed shut behind him.

—

At some point Cal had either passed out or fallen asleep, but he woke to darkness. Every damn part of his body hurt. He could feel the last remnants of the mind probe inside him, remembered it wringing the sanity from his brain and pulling his thoughts apart like cotton wool. Cere had described the feeling of it to him once, when training him how to protect himself from its worst effects, but there really was no teacher like experience.

Darkness, but not total darkness: a small red light flashed at the back of the room. The probe droid was still there, recording him shivering against the interrogation chair. Some Imperial officer on the night shift was probably watching him wake up through its unblinking eye. Soon Denvik would be informed he was conscious, and then he'd be back to bring more torment. Cal was mostly sure he hadn't blabbed anything to Denvik while under the influence of the mind probe, or the more run-of-the-mill torture that had preceded it, though the looseness of his memories meant he wouldn't bet his life on it.

Cal shook his head, trying to clear it. How much time had passed? Were Merrin and Greez still on the Mantis, waiting futilely for him to return? Or did they trust him to get the job done? Merrin couldn't leave the ship without breaking the cloaking magick, so even if they figured out something was wrong, they'd have to go for backup first. Cal would either have to put up with whatever Denvik threw at him next and hope for a rescue later, or get out of this sorry state himself. Neither option was particularly appealing. 

And then there was Bode. Cal’s memories weren't anywhere near chronological order, but he knew what he'd seen and heard. Bode was an ISB agent, but had never been one willingly. The look in Bode's eyes when he’d realised that Denvik had Kata hostage, and Kata’s terrified face through the datapad, were going to haunt Cal for the rest of his life. Bode wasn’t just being blackmailed by Denvik, he was wrapped sinew by sinew around Denvik’s finger by his love for his daughter, the leash around his neck slowly choking him to death. Any relief Cal might have felt knowing that Bode had only ever betrayed him under duress was tempered by the sobering reality that they were all prisoners of the Empire, and if Denvik had his way Cal wasn't sure they were all going to survive the night.

It made his stomach turn how easily Denvik had been running rings around them, using their relationships against each other. Cal needed to be smarter, think further ahead, go toe-to-toe with Denvik at his own game. And that started with getting Bode - and preferably Kata, though that would be riskier - back in the room.

Cal noticed the hum a split second before the light blazed on, and managed to close his eyes in time to avoid being blinded. He nearly grinned, but turned it into a grimace as the door hissed open and the click of Denvik's shoes announced his entrance. Small victories now, big victories later.

“Welcome back, Kestis,” said Denvik, and Cal was really, really going to enjoy not having to hear his voice ever again once he got out of this.

“Lank,” Cal replied, cracking his eyes open in a squint. Denvik was alone again, save for the ever-present probe droid. Even the interrogation droid was nowhere to be seen - which was a relief, but Cal didn't trust Denvik not to have it in his back pocket again if he found the right excuse. Cal's lightsaber hung from his belt this time - tantalisingly close, but too far out of reach to risk another attempt.

“Are you ready to talk?” Denvik asked.

Oh good, that meant he hadn't told Denvik anything yet. Cal blinked a few times to get himself used to the light. “Where are Bode and Kata?” 

“Safe and unharmed,” Denvik said, then added, “for the time being.”

So that was Denvik's new play, the reason why Cal wasn't eyeballs-deep in another mind probe right now: instead of hurting Cal, he was going to start hurting Bode and Kata. The prospect of less torture in his immediate future would have been a relief if the alternative wasn't so despicable. “You know,” said Cal with disgust, “I subscribe to this radical political view that threatening little girls makes you the bad guy.”

Denvik laughed humourlessly. “What happens to Kata is entirely in your control. Talk, and I will ensure she remains healthy and whole.”

In that moment, Cal decided that Denvik had to die. Fuck the Jedi code. When the opportunity presented itself, when Bode and Kata were safe, Cal was going to slash that smug smile off his sallow, pointed face, and he was going to enjoy it. Hell, maybe he could even convince Cere that that counted as self-defence under the Jedi code. 

What would Cere say to him now? Focus, probably. Trust in the Force. So Cal cut short his fantasy about Denvik's grisly death and started pretending to consider his offer. This was an obvious play from Denvik: if a Jedi can find the depths to resist physical torture himself, then aim that same pain instead onto someone he cares about. Cal was pretty sure it would work, too, because the idea of a seven-year-old girl getting tortured on his behalf made Cal feel sick just thinking about it - and he couldn’t let Bode go through that either.

No, he wouldn’t let it happen. He needed a plan, and Denvik had helpfully provided the perfect catalyst by threatening Bode. If Denvik was so intent on exploiting their feelings for each other, then all Cal had to do was lean into that, and Denvik would bring Bode right back to him. Two Jedi in a room together had a much better chance of escaping than one on his own.

“Let Bode and Kata go free, and I'll tell you everything you want to know,” Cal said, a counter-offer he knew Denvik would never accept.

Denvik’s brows quirked, humouring him. “Is that so?”

The stakes were so high, and Cal was much more used to fighting than talking his way out of bad odds. But it was time to start actually playing Denvik's game on his own terms. “Bode was telling the truth,” Cal said. “I came here on my own. He had nothing to do with it.”

“Whatever deal Agent Akuna did or did not strike with you is irrelevant,” Denvik said, and did Cal notice a touch of frustration in his voice? Perhaps Denvik was pleased that he'd got the better of Bode, but he wasn't pleased to have lost him as an agent - and that wasn't surprising given that Cal knew firsthand how effective Bode was as an infiltrator and double agent. “The fact remains that he is a traitor. He will not go free, but if I am feeling generous he may be sent to a labour camp instead of being executed.”

“Let him go,” Cal insisted, and it was alarmingly easy to make himself sound desperate, “or you'll get nothing from me.”

Denvik frowned. “I find myself mystified by your loyalty to the man. Have your feelings for him really blinded you to his true nature? He is a professional liar. It was his job to make you trust him.”

It did hurt, because if Bode had just told him why he was so reluctant to take the Hidden Path to Tanalorr instead of just stealing the compass, then maybe they could have figured something out without the need for all of… this. Cal allowed that hurt to be obvious on his face. Let Denvik think he was ‘blinded by his feelings’, acting out of emotion only. The best lies had crumbs of truth in them anyway. “Please,” Cal begged. “Bode was just protecting his daughter.”

“Then tell me where Jedi Masters Junda and Cordova are.”

Cal bit his lip, taking a sharp breath in. He didn’t even need to say anything, just needed to look like he was struggling with the choice.

“Where have the Hidden Path relocated to?”

Again, Cal stayed silent, eyes on the floor, like he was only just realising the cost of his compliance. The more Cal’s stubbornness irritated him, the quicker Denvik would give up and fetch Bode for the extra incentive.

“Alright, then,” said Denvik, the malice clear in his voice. “It seems you’ve made your choice, Kestis.”

Denvik left the room so abruptly that even Cal was surprised. Had it really been that easy? He chewed on the inside of his cheek, trying not to let anything else show on his face, aware as always of the probe droid recording his every movement. To escape, he closed his eyes and breathed out slowly. Hanging from an interrogation chair wasn't the ideal place to meditate, but it would have to do for the time being.

There is only the Force, there is only the Force. He sank into it like a familiar old friend, searching for peace and patience that he knew he wouldn't find. There was too much distraction, and residual pain in his muscles and throat to focus completely. If this went wrong, if he’d misread the situation or given Denvik the wrong cues, then he could have just signed Bode’s death warrant. Bode had saved his ass so many times - on the Lucrehulk with Zee, at the Koboh Observatory in his Z-95, hell, he’d even saved him more than once from one of Moran’s long-winded stories at Pyloon’s. Now Cal was putting Bode directly in harm’s way just so he could save Cal one more time.

A knot sat heavy in his gut that was anxiety, dread and nausea all rolled up into one. When was the last time he'd eaten something, or even taken a shower? Probably since before Bode had stolen the compass. He could hear Bode’s voice in his head, gently chastising him for prioritising the mission and forgetting to look after himself, as usual. Treat your body and mind like a good blaster, he used to say. Keep them clean and in good condition, and they will never let you down. Bode always knew what to say to bring him back to himself. 

He didn't realise he was crying until he became aware of the wetness on his cheeks. Unable to brush the tears away with his hands, he had to make do with swallowing hard and trying to rub his cheeks on his shoulders. The probe droid was watching, but he still felt he had to salvage some pride before Denvik saw him like this. He sucked in one shaky breath, then another, willing the black hole inside him to shrink through sheer force of will. Slowly, with each breath, he settled and stilled. There is only the Force. He had to believe that he'd find the right path that would get him, Bode and Kata safely out of here, or all that would be left was despair, and nothing killed a Jedi faster. 

He was so deep in his meditation that, this time, he didn’t hear the door open. Instead Cal's eyes flew open as the chair activated and that all-too-familiar crackle of pain danced onto his skin - but only for a split second. Enough time for Cal to gasp, readying himself for a scream that didn't come. Denvik's fun way of saying hello.

Denvik had Bode with him, accompanied by a pair of stormtroopers. Bode's hands were cuffed in front of him, and he was a shadow of himself: shoulders slumped, lip bleeding and there was a cut along the top of his cheek that Cal was sure indicated that a black eye wasn't far behind.

Cal had a cold feeling in his stomach. He'd baited Denvik into bringing Bode here, but it was a very different thing knowing what he was going to see, and actually seeing it in front of him. He was suddenly glad that Denvik hadn’t brought Kata in as well - for now, they would just have to work with what they had. “You said he was unharmed.”

“He was,” Denvik said, “until you decided you still didn't want to talk.”

Bode looked up - and oh, it was the first time Cal had properly seen him since their argument on the mesa, with no drugs coursing through his system to turn his vision slippery and unfocused. The look Bode gave him was raw and unfiltered, desperate and haunted. Cal had thought he'd be able to handle it, could approach the whole situation subjectively, but instead his heart hammered in his chest and he knew he'd do anything for this man. All of Denvik's assumptions about his feelings for Bode were fucking right, and he now had to deal with Denvik attempting to exploit that in the worst possible way.

“You’re smart,” Denvik said to Cal. He nodded to the stormtroopers, one of whom kicked the back of Bode's legs, sending him to his knees with a grunt. “I don’t need to explain to you what’s about to happen. Unless you tell me the new location of the Hidden Path.”

Of course Denvik had brought faceless enforcers to do his dirty work for him. Cal had him figured out by now: a ruthless psychopath with no scruples about threatening little girls, but who enjoyed violence from a safe distance only, if all it involved was giving the order or pushing a button from across the room. Who wouldn’t dream of picking up a weapon or striking someone himself. Who'd lose his nerve if he got a single speck of blood on his crisp white gloves, whether it was his or someone else's. The first chance he got, Cal intended to take him all the way out of his comfort zone.

But for now, Bode was watching him from his knees. They’d always been good at reading each other in a fight, following each others’ spontaneous plays like they’d planned it that way all along. It was time to find out whether they could pass one last test. With a deep breath, Cal readied himself.

—

Bode tensed his body, waiting for the inevitable. Of course Cal wasn’t going to tell Denvik anything; this was only going to go one way, and the fists to the face he'd taken earlier were just the taster. It wasn't even about him anymore - he was a punching bag, a tool, and Denvik didn't care about his pain unless it caused Cal pain too.

“Is it true?” Cal asked quietly. “Are you an ISB agent?”

The question took Bode by surprise. Cal should know by now that it was true. Of course it was true. Something lingered in Cal's eyes that Bode couldn't name, but it wasn't what he expected. There was no anger there, no accusation, just the steely glint that Bode had seen a hundred times before when Cal drew his lightsaber ready for a fight.

Bode answered, “Yes.”

Cal searched Bode's face like he was trying to tell him something, eyes bright. “You've been lying to me from the start.”

Something wasn’t right, but the words were an arrow in Bode's chest nevertheless, digging out old regrets. If only he and Cal had met under different circumstances. If only Bode hadn't needed to sell himself and Kata to the ISB in order to survive. If only Bode had trusted Cal enough to tell him about his past before it was too late. He glanced at Denvik, but he seemed perfectly happy to let Bode respond to Cal's accusations. “Yes,” he said again.

“Then I have nothing more to say to you,” Cal said.

If Cal was trying to stop Denvik from hurting Bode by making him believe he didn't care, it was too passionate, too angry. Denvik laughed harshly and the sound made Bode cringe. “Oh, how sentimental. I’m pleased the two of you are finally being honest with each other. However, shall we return to business? Tell me where the Hidden Path is.”

Cal said nothing. Bode braced himself, and when the pain came it was the jab of a stormtrooper’s electrobaton on his skin. He jerked against the shock but didn't make a sound, bending over at the waist to absorb the crackle of pain, not wanting to give Denvik the satisfaction. The assault was over in seconds, allowing Bode to suck in a shaky breath and wait for the next one.

“You sold me out,” Cal said, his voice cracking. “You put me here.”

It was overdramatic, even for Cal. This was a fight that Cal was picking deliberately, making a show of losing control of his emotions in a way Bode knew Cal never would, and certainly not in front of an Imperial.

“The Hidden Path,” Denvik said.

This time when the electrobaton struck him, Bode couldn't keep it all in; a grunt escaped his lips as the shock of electricity rattled through him. Through blurry eyes he looked at Cal, trying to understand.

In the quickest of flashes, Cal's eyes flicked from Bode to the back of the room.

Bode hid his surprise with a groan of relief as the electrobaton was removed again. His chest rose and fell heavily with new adrenaline, something like hope. What was Cal trying to show him? There was nothing at the back of the room but the probe droid.

But when he locked eyes with Cal again, something suddenly clicked, and it took Bode a moment or two to realise that it was the rush of the Force connecting them together. With a burst of clarity, he understood what Cal was trying to do. Neither of them could attempt an escape without putting Kata in danger, but if they could create a narrative where Cal wanted Bode dead, then that would stir up enough confusion to allow them an opening. Bode's back was to the probe droid, because no one saw him as a threat right now. And they didn't need to convince Denvik, they just needed to convince whichever Imperial officer was watching over Kata on the other side of that camera.

“I see you’re taking the time to find your tongue,” Denvik said to Cal. “No matter. This is much more fun than torturing little girls. Akuna here is less breakable. I’m sure he’ll be able to take a lot more, if you want to keep refusing to provide answers.”

Bode ignored the jibe about Kata, certain that Denvik was bluffing. Denvik could descend into whatever depths of depravity he wanted to, because this time it was Cal and Bode who were in control of the narrative.

The Force lingered in his cuffed hands, so Bode spread them in front of himself experimentally, testing the limits of his movement. Through the tension of his fingers, he could feel the restraints that held Cal against the interrogation chair, the cold metal edges that would slice his skin if he ran his fingers over them in real life. He knew how sturdy those bands were, but through the Force they were tiny and insignificant. With the right application of power, they would crumble.

“So none of it was true,” Cal said. He was no actor, but, then again, no one else knew him like Bode did. The anger that Cal was projecting was paper thin, nothing like the deep rage he'd seen Cal direct at the Empire, or Dagan Gera for his selfishness, or even himself when he couldn’t save everyone he wanted to. Everyone else was just seeing what they expected to see: a Jedi who was hurt and upset, lashing out in his helplessness.

The Force sang in the air between them, so high-pitched that it was a wonder no one else heard it. Cal was playing his part, and now Bode had to do his.

“You useless fucking Jedi,” Bode laughed, slightly hysterically, and he was a good actor. “Of course none of it was true.”

The electrobaton came down again and Bode used the shock to throw his hands forward, hurling power against Cal's restraints through the Force. It wasn't enough. The Force was strong, but Bode's control over it was weak and rusty, degraded through lack of use. He tried again, reaching desperately for power he couldn't access, but the restraints remained stubbornly unbroken. For a moment, despair threatened to swallow him whole.

Then he realised: there was another way. Fear, anger, hate, suffering - Bode had them all in spades, festering inside him like a rot, waiting to burst out. All he needed to do was open the right door. 

Bode gritted his teeth and heaved himself upright again. He looked at Cal, and it was halfway between a warning and asking for permission. Almost imperceptibly, Cal nodded.

Before he could change his mind, Bode threw his entire weight into elbowing a stormtrooper in the side of the knee, hard enough to hear the crack of bone. “You were supposed to come here and kill him,” he snarled at Cal. “Now we're both going to die.”

The second stormtrooper threw a plastoid-gloved fist at Bode's head and when he stabbed his electrobaton into Bode's back, he didn't stop. This time Bode did scream and he used all of it - his fears for Kata, his anger at Denvik, his hatred of the Empire and the suffering he'd been forced to endure every single day since the Purge - to embrace the darkness and throw it at Cal's restraints.

With a noise like a Kaminoan thunderclap, the interrogation chair shattered. Cal dropped to the ground, landing heavily on his feet but managing to stay upright. Denvik staggered back as Cal pulled the lightsaber from his belt and into his hand.

“Only one of us is going to die today,” Cal said, and lunged at Bode with the blade.

Chapter Text

Watching Cal exact his vengeance was one of the most beautiful things that Bode had ever seen. The Force crackled between them, allowing Bode to feel every movement of Cal's body like it was his own. With the blade a split second away from Bode's heart, Cal clenched his fist to implode the probe droid into a thousand pieces of scrap metal. Two slashes of his lightsaber killed each of the stormtroopers instantly, and when more ran in from outside, Cal side-stepped and caught them on his blade before they could even fire a shot. There was no elegance to his movements, no technique - just hard thrusts designed to kill with maximum efficiency, until one final precise strike bisected the binders on Bode's wrists.

When it was done, Cal turned to Bode and giggled, like he hadn’t just killed four people in the blink of an eye. “Did we really just do that?”

“You,” Bode said, fisting a hand in Cal’s shirt, “and your crazy fucking ideas.” He pulled him in for a crushing kiss that set his blood on fire. Cal returned it with breathless enthusiasm, hooking a hand around the back of Bode's neck, forcing the kiss deeper, and Bode gave a low groan in response. They would need to talk properly later, to sort through the mess of lies and hurt, but right now the kiss communicated everything they needed: mutual apologies, forgiveness, and passion, despite everything.

Denvik chose that moment to fire a blaster at them, but Cal deflected the bolt without even opening his eyes and Bode's outstretched arm threw Denvik back against the wall and pinned him there. For Denvik's benefit as much as his own, Bode made sure to take his time finishing the kiss, swallowing Cal's breathy gasps of relief and taking every bit of strength he needed from the warmth of Cal's mouth.

“You love my crazy ideas,” Cal laughed when they came up for air, and the sound was as clear as birdsong in Bode's ears. He had thought he'd have to die to hear it again.

The noises of Denvik struggling made them both turn to face him. For a second Bode had almost managed to forget he was there, for all Bode's outflung arm was still holding him off the floor. The reminder brought him back to reality with a vicious ripple of anger. This wasn't finished, not by any means. 

“You-” Denvik began, but Bode crooked his fingertips and choked the words from Denvik's throat. The hate-fuelled power of the Force leapt once more through his veins - strong and vibrant and all-consuming - and he intended to use it while he still could. He released Cal and advanced forward, savouring the way Denvik writhed in his telekinetic grip, hands clasping feebly at his windpipe.

“What was that you were saying about torturing little girls?” Bode’s voice came out so low and dangerous that he barely recognised it. “How they're so very breakable?” With just a twitch of Bode’s fingers, he cracked the bone in Denvik's forearm in one satisfying snap, and Denvik couldn't even manage a scream because the Force was wrapped so tightly around his throat.

“Bode.” Cal put a hand on his shoulder. “Don’t. Not like this.”

Bode shrugged him off. When Cal had been tormented by the same Imperial for years, when he'd been put through what Bode had been through, then he could tell him the difference between right or wrong. Denvik deserved this, and Bode deserved the chance to enjoy it. Blood already soaked Bode’s hands from the things he'd done to survive - what difference would a little bit of Denvik's make? He tightened his fingers, increasing the pressure so that Denvik choked again, his legs kicking back against the wall in increasing desperation.

“Stop!” Cal stepped in front of Bode this time, shoving at his arm. Bode had always been physically stronger, and Cal was as weak as an autumn leaf right now, but it was enough to momentarily break Bode's concentration. Denvik slipped to the floor with a breathless gasp of pain. “This isn't you,” Cal said. All traces of the giddy elation of their kiss had left his face, replaced with wide-eyed worry. 

Dispassionately, Bode eyed the crumpled, shaking heap that used to be his boss. Cal was wrong. The problem was, this had always been him. He was normally just better at keeping the darkness at bay behind a thin veneer of self-control.

“Hey. Take a breath.” Cal picked up Denvik's dropped blaster and tucked it into one of Bode's two empty holsters, the action all the more intimate because it was one Cal had done a thousand times before. “Think of Kata. We need to send an all-clear.”

The roaring in Bode's head made him shudder and he had to close his eyes. Kata. She was alive, and still out there somewhere: his tether, his light in the dark. Or rather, one of them. Much as it scared him to admit it, there was a second star in his sky now, and he was standing right in front of him.

Cal had retrieved Denvik's datapad, his mouth downturned into a small frown as he tapped the screen. For the first time Bode noticed the rings of raw skin around Cal's wrists from where the restraints had bitten into him, the tremble in his legs that gave away the other wounds that weren't visible but were no less deep. Bode didn't know how Cal did it: go through so much but keep going, and keep going, and keep going. In the last rotation alone, Cal had been betrayed, stunned, knocked out, drugged and tortured for hours, yet here he was - focused and still fighting while Bode lost himself to the pull of his emotions. If Cal could push through it, then so could he.

Drop by drop, the dark power in Bode's blood leaked away, and with it went the anger. In its place, Bode was left with a numbness that hollowed him out to his core. His knees shook as he ran a hand over his face. “Sorry,” he whispered. “I don't know what- I'm sorry.”

Cal smiled at him, but it didn’t quite reach the guarded look in his eyes. “We need to hurry. Can you unlock this?” 

Bode focused on the datapad and shook his head. There was only one person who could unlock it, and he was currently slumped white-faced and shaking on the floor, holding his broken arm against his chest. Denvik was looking at them both with watchful eyes. There was no point in asking him; he was the only person Bode knew who was almost as immovable as Cal.

“Without an all-clear, they'll know you’re free,” Bode said to Cal. “For a Jedi, they’ll send an army.”

Cal huffed in annoyance. Never mind that he was basically swaying on his feet just with the effort of remaining upright; he marched over to the door, pressed the button to open it and stuck his head out. “BD?”

BD-1 didn’t appear, but a couple of stormtroopers who’d been walking past did. Cal's sudden appearance took them by surprise, giving Cal enough time to yank them into the room with a single tug of the Force. By that time, Bode had already drawn Denvik's blaster and he shot them both in quick succession. The grip felt strange in his hand, smaller and more delicate than his usual blasters, but he didn't miss.

“Pay attention, Scrapper,” Bode teased, rolling his eyes when Cal just gave him a sideways look and ran back outside.

For a long few moments, it was just Bode and Denvik in the room. Bode spun the blaster around his fingers a couple of times, wondering whether it would be mercy or cruelty to shoot Denvik in the head and get it over with. The question simmered inside him, low and uncomfortable, then he thrust the blaster back into his holster; he wasn't in the right state of mind to be making that decision right now.

When Cal came back in, he had BD-1 perched on his arm. Of course the loyal-to-a-fault little droid had managed to evade everyone, keeping out of sight and waiting for his chance to reunite with Cal again. Judging by the string of angry beeping, Cal was getting a lecture, and Bode was pretty sure it would be his turn next.

“I know, I know,” Cal said. “Save it for later, buddy. Can you slice this datapad?”

For the first time, Denvik stirred. He carefully watched BD-1 work his magic on the datapad, and Bode watched Denvik in return. Just how much of the station could Denvik control from that little screen, that he was so uncomfortable with the idea of them breaking into it? Or perhaps he’d been relying on Cal and Bode getting overwhelmed by the reinforcements that were no doubt already on their way as his last hope for survival.

Once the datapad was unlocked, Cal handed it to Bode. It was easy enough for him to navigate through and find the message someone had already sent urgently requesting an update. He quickly typed out a new one, trying to mimic Denvik’s quick, crisp tones. Jedi re-subdued. Several troopers down. Send a medical team to IR001. After a moment of hesitation he added, Agent Akuna is deceased. Move the girl to a holding cell and await further orders. His hands shook slightly as he typed; he’d long dreamed of the day when he’d be marked as dead on ISB records, free of them at last. Now, though, all he could hope was that reality didn't end up matching the lie.

If they were lucky, the all-clear message should ensure a reduced level of reinforcements sent to their room. And if they could hit that sweet spot between Kata being deemed unimportant and left unguarded in a cell, and someone realising that the message was a lie, then they'd be able to get Kata out before anyone even thought to check on her.

“Will they believe it?” Cal asked. He’d been whispering to BD-1, and Bode had a feeling that his well-deserved lecture wasn’t coming anymore. It was a quiet gesture of kindness from Cal that Bode didn’t feel he deserved. 

“I don't know.” Bode flipped the datapad around and showed the message to Denvik. “Will they?”

The murderous look on Denvik's face told Bode he'd probably done a good enough job. It was starting to unnerve him that Denvik hadn't said anything; either Bode had scared him enough to shut his silver tongue up or Denvik was choosing to bide his time.

Bode offered the datapad back to BD-1 for the excuse to think about something else. “Can you get into the station's cameras?”

When BD-1 bweeped that he could, Cal added, “Loop the feed, if you can. Corridors between here and the cells. We don’t want anyone getting suspicious and locking the station down.”

“They won’t be fooled for long,” Bode said. Was it better to wait for the reinforcements to arrive and kill them quickly, buying them more time, or leave now and have the alarm raised the moment the reinforcements found the empty room? No, they had to avoid a fight, he decided; they didn't know how many soldiers and droids were coming, and Cal was far from his physical best. Besides, they had wasted enough time. Someone would discover the ruse sooner or later, and then everyone in the station would be sent to hunt them down. “How much strength do you have?” Bode asked.

Something flashed across Cal’s face. “Enough,” he said confidently.

Cal had always been a terrible liar, but Bode knew better than to call him out on it this time. The important thing was that Cal hadn’t even tried to suggest they leave Kata behind and go immediately for an exit. Either they all got out, or none of them did.

“What about him?” Bode jerked a finger towards Denvik.

Cal chewed nervously on his lip, but didn’t look at either of them. “Let’s take him with us. We might need to negotiate for Kata and…” He shrugged.

That was good enough for Bode. While Cal confirmed their route to the cells on Denvik’s datapad with BD-1, Bode grabbed Denvik and hauled him to his feet by the collar of his uniform, fighting the urge to deliberately knock his broken arm, to give him a taste of the torment he'd inflicted on Cal. Unfortunately, they still needed Denvik to be able to walk. “If you say anything to anyone, I'll pull the words out through your throat, and your lungs with them,” Bode growled. The threat was an empty one; he didn't have the juice anymore to pull off any real feats of power, but if Denvik pushed him hard enough then he could probably find it again.

Denvik winced, clutching his arm tightly to his chest. He moved his head very slightly to indicate Cal. “I don't think your tired little Jedi over there would like that very much,” he said, quietly enough that Cal couldn't hear. 

“I've waited years to kill you,” Bode said, just as quietly. “Just give me the excuse.”

“Let's go,” Cal said. BD-1 was already scurrying to the door, eager to get moving.

Bode pushed on Denvik's shoulder blades, directing him after Cal. The fact that Denvik went easily, without protest, filled him with as much relief as it did dread.

—

Cal was running purely on adrenaline, and he wasn't sure how much longer it was going to last. Too bad that BD-1 had long since run out of stim canisters, because the pick-me-up would be a welcome relief right now. Just walking through the base at a brisk pace reminded him of how much his muscles hurt. His thoughts were sluggish, his reactions slow, and no, the headache still hadn't gone away despite the truth serum being long gone from his system. He needed a bath, a hot meal, and a soft bed, none of which he was going to find in the long white hallways of Nova Garon. 

The route to the cells he and BD-1 had worked out was longer than it needed to be, but it avoided all main thoroughfare and any likely paths that the reinforcements would take on their way through to the interrogation room. Discretion was the only thing more important than speed right now. Having the familiar weight of BD-1 perched on his back was a huge comfort, particularly because it provided another set of eyes to watch Denvik, who Cal refused to look at. He didn't know how Bode could stand to have a hand on his shoulder, keeping him firmly on target; just the thought of being that close to that oleaginous prick made Cal feel slightly sick.

But the alternative had been worse. If they hadn’t taken Denvik with them, then Cal wasn’t sure he could have found the right excuses to stop Bode from stepping back into the darkness and killing him. The twisted, sadistic look on Bode’s face as he choked off Denvik’s breath with the Force was one that Cal never wanted to see again.

The alarm blared into life overhead, and Bode swore loudly. 

“Time's up,” Denvik said.

It was the same alarm as when Cal had been ambushed. He’d been expecting it, but it still made his heart thump heavily, and the bruise on his jaw ache. With a wordless glance, Cal and Bode broke into a sprint.

A voice rang out above them: ‘Two Jedi prisoners have escaped custody and are at large. Repeat, two Jedi prisoners at large. All units engage. Shoot to kill.’

Abruptly Denvik dug his heels in, started fighting against Bode's grip. Cal cursed and turned back to help, but Bode waved him away.

“I'll catch you up!” Bode had to shout to be heard over both the alarm and the broadcast. “Get Kata out of there!”

Splitting up was not on Cal's to-do list, but then Bode yelled, “Go!” and Cal turned on his heels and ran before his brain could come up with any other options. The alarm had to mean that the reinforcements had reached the interrogation room and failed to find the dead body of Agent Akuna. They’d know he'd gone for Kata. Cal had to get to her cell before they did.

Cal rounded the final corner and found the door to the detention block: locked, but not for long. BD-1 booped once and leapt onto the console. Cal's breath came ragged from his chest, but he only had a few seconds to recover before BD-1 finished and the door whooshed open.

The antechamber was yawningly empty. Cal stopped, legs trembling. Was this a trap? He drew his lightsaber and took a careful step around the curved control panel, then another, but the whole place seemed deserted.

“Okay, buddy, do your thing,” Cal said in a whisper. While BD-1 clambered onto the console, Cal glanced down the long, narrow corridor of cells. It was possible all the guards had left to respond to the alarm, but he didn't like it. It was too easy. The first couple of cells were unlocked and empty, and then something crackled on the edge of his senses. Before he could figure out what it was, a wave of dizziness overtook him and he had to brace himself against the wall to stop himself from keeling over. Oh fuck, he was not in a good shape.

Someone else clattered into the antechamber. Cal flinched, but relaxed when he realised it was just Bode - he wasn't sure he could fight off a bogling at the moment, let alone a stormtrooper. Then he saw Bode was alone.

“Where's Denvik?”

Bode went straight to the console and pressed a button to close the door behind him. “Give me Denvik’s datapad,” he said, and when Cal hesitated, he rounded the console and snatched it from Cal’s hands. After keying in a series of commands, a second set of doors slammed over the first, effectively sealing them in - and stopping anyone else from getting in from outside. “There. There’s no override if the order comes from the top.”

Cal squared up to Bode, jaw tight. “That didn't answer my question.”

“He's not dead,” Bode snapped. “I had to ditch him. Troopers were closing in.”

Cal went still. Slowly, he took in the lines around Bode's eyes, the way his broad shoulders were hunched. He couldn’t help but question whether the tension in Bode’s fingers was from stress alone, or whether he’d had them tight around Denvik’s throat once again. 

Back in the interrogation room, Cal had felt Bode open himself up to a hungry darkness in order to find the power to get them free. Somehow, Bode had managed to resist the pull and not kill Denvik, but Cal had seen the hunger on Bode’s face, how desperately he’d wanted Denvik to suffer. As much as Cal would love to live in a world that didn't have Denvik in it, he knew from Cere what giving into those cold-blooded urges did to a person.

Now, that same darkness lingered around Bode again, blurring Cal's senses, like trying to trace the outline of a flickering fire. The idea of Bode losing himself to the darkness terrified Cal more than he liked to admit, because Cal didn’t know if he had the power to lead him back.

“Where did you leave him?” Cal asked.

“He’s unconscious,” Bode said, avoiding Cal’s eyes and continuing to tap on the datapad. “I didn’t have enough time to hide the body. If we’re lucky, the troopers will waste time getting him to a medbay before coming after us.”

“But he-”

“Leave it, Cal!” Bode took a deep breath. “Tell me you've got something, BD.”

BD-1 gave a bwoop of success and rattled off the identifying number of the cell. With a sigh, Cal pushed himself off the wall and headed further in, unwilling to push Bode any further. Of course Kata's cell was right at the back, the cell furthest away from any escape routes. Not that they had any escape routes any more because Bode had sealed the blast doors. That would have to be a bridge they crossed when they got to it. 

The crackle that Cal had sensed turned out to be a ray shield: red, humming with electricity, and barring the way into Kata's cell. As far as he could tell, it was the only active cell, but he looked carefully into the darkness of the rest, trying to shake off the feeling that something still wasn't right. His hesitation gave Bode enough time to rush past, slam his hand onto the release button and bolt inside the cell the second the ray shield receded.

“Papa!” a small voice cried. 

By the time Cal reached the threshold. Bode had his arms wrapped around a dark-haired little girl, who had so many of Bode's features that it was almost uncanny. He'd seen holos of her, of course, but seeing her in person was a different experience altogether. Even in her father’s arms, Kata was the saddest child he'd ever seen. She was younger than Cal had been during the Purge, but he recognised those eyes. Not that they were expressive - quite the opposite: her face was blank, empty, like she'd never quite let herself come alive.

When she raised her eyes to see Cal, her only reaction was to go deathly still, staring at Cal with the deep sadness of a child who could no longer just be a child. He thought he had understood before, but he finally really knew why Bode had been willing to burn down the world for her. 

“Hi,” Cal said, raising his hand in an awkward wave. Should he wave? Was it weird that he was nervous to meet her?

Bode released her, and it took Cal a few moments to realise that Bode's shoulders were shaking. He had to try several times before he could force words out. “Kata, this is Cal.” He cleared his throat hard, brushing a thumb over each eye. “He's my best friend.”

That made Cal smile. He stooped down to allow BD-1 to jump from his back and tip-tap over to Kata. “And this is BD-1.” All kids loved cute droids, right? 

“Hello Cal,” Kata said in a tiny voice. She clung to Bode's hand, but allowed herself a small pat of BD-1's head. “Hello BD-1.”

“I've got you, sweetheart,” Bode said. “The soldiers are gone. I won't let them hurt you.”

This was a side of Bode that Cal had only ever seen in glimpses. That terrible outline of darkness seemed to soften and recede in response to the raw power of Bode's love for his daughter, and Cal wasn't sure if he wanted to bask in it or give them some privacy. He settled for shuffling a few steps into the cell and lowering himself into a cross-legged position, so he seemed less intimidating. BD-1 crooked his head, then ran over to settle in Cal's lap, curling up like a lothcat on a blanket. 

“So, Kata,” Cal said, scritching a joint on BD-1's neck that made him trill happily, “I know this is all a bit scary, but your dad and I are going to need you to be brave. We're going to-” 

His next words were cut off by the buzz of the ray shield reactivating. Cal leapt to his feet then immediately wished he hadn't as his vision blurred. An ISB officer sauntered into view on the other side of the ray shield, smirking at them both through the deadly red glow.

“Jedi scum,” he spat. “I knew you'd come for the girl.”

Oh, for fuck's sake. How had Cal and Bode come all this way, outsmarted Denvik himself to free themselves and get to Kata, only to be tricked by some random fucking second lieutenant? Cal had known something was wrong, had known they weren't alone - and yet he'd allowed himself to be distracted by the pureness of Bode and Kata's reunion anyway.

He looked back at his cellmates. Bode had instinctively thrown himself across to protect Kata, and Cal was never going to forgive this officer for erasing the softness from Bode's face again.

“Lower the shield,” Cal tried, reaching for the Force, but even before the officer started laughing, he knew it hadn't worked. 

“Your mind tricks are useless here,” Second Lieutenant Arseface gloated. 

It was only instinct that led Cal to finger his belt, to feel for the charm Merrin had given him. Unbelievably, it was still there. Whoever had disarmed him while he was unconscious - and Cal hoped vindictively that it was Denvik - had done a terrible job. Then again, why would they know anything about Nightsister charms when so few people had ever seen one?

Cal tried not to grin. This was the first bit of luck they'd had in a long time and he was determined not to waste the opportunity. “Let us go. Or-” He glanced at Bode and Kata, suddenly unsure. Was it appropriate to threaten to kill someone in front of your best friend-who-you've-kissed-twice's seven year old daughter? Probably not. “Or you'll regret it,” he finished lamely.

When the officer laughed again, Cal replied by casually phasing through the ray shield. It was always an odd feeling, the spark of Merrin's magick unmaking and remaking him again, but the rush of extra energy it gave him was a boost. He used it to carry him into the officer, whose mouth managed to form a small “wha-” of surprise, before Cal shoved him backwards into the opposite cell, stepped back smartly, and hit the button to activate the shield.

“Who’s the scum now?” he taunted, before turning to give Bode and Kata a sunny smile. He wasted no time getting their ray shield deactivated, then leant hard against the wall again as his legs promptly threatened to give out from under him.

“There we go,” said Bode, helping Kata out of the cell. “Nothing that me and Cal can't handle.”

“That one was all me, actually,” Cal quipped, but it came out wheezy and thin. His heart was thumping hard and, even with a couple of deep breaths, the ringing in his head refused to go away. “Any chance I can have a forty hour nap before we move on?” 

He was joking - mostly - but Bode bit his lip and looked over towards the blast doors. Even with Denvik out of the picture for the time being, it was a temporary solution at best.

“We need to get out of here first,” Bode said. “And we can't have a witness.”

Cal stiffened, and the officer, who had been cursing under his breath since Cal had turned the tables on him, went very quiet. Despite Kata at his side, the distant roar of the darkness was closing in on Bode again, far, far too close. Cere was the only person Cal knew who had actual experience of wielding the power of the dark side, and she rarely spoke about it. When she did, she described it as a drowning black ocean with no land in sight, or an unending pit to fall and fall down forever. Bode was teetering on that precipice, his toes wet, the darkness sucking hungrily at his feet and ankles, and murdering a subdued captive could be just the thing to draw him fully over the edge.

“You can't kill him in cold blood,” Cal said, though they both knew he didn't have the energy to stop him. 

Thankfully Bode glanced at Kata and nodded. “Fine. Sweetheart, go stand over there please.” Once Kata was far enough away, Bode deactivated the shield and stunned the officer before he could protest. The body twitched at his feet and, for a split second, something cold and bloodthirsty rolled off Bode like a wave, then Bode locked frightened eyes with Cal and the moment passed.

Kata slipped her hand back into Bode's. “I’ve got you, Papa.” Had she felt it too? It wasn't too big of a stretch to imagine that she might share even a little of Bode's Force-sensitivity.

The darkness was there, waiting, whispering seductively in Bode’s ear, trying to convince him to take the plunge. Bode was fighting it so far, as best he could, but right now all they had to pull him back towards the light was one exhausted, out of his depth Jedi and a little girl, neither of whom likely knew half the demons that Bode was fighting.

“I'm okay,” Bode said, squeezing Kata's hand, but he could barely manage a smile. He shared another look with Cal, who understood the unspoken plea not to say anything in front of Kata. “Let's get out of here.”

Chapter Text

Getting out of a locked-down detention block shouldn’t have been easy. Unluckily for the ISB, Bode was paranoid. As soon as he'd struck his deal with Denvik several years earlier, he'd made it his business to learn every path, back passage, and hidden route he could find on this base - and if there wasn’t one, then he created his own. An ill-fitting panel here, a loose screw there, and the detention block had been one of the first he’d primed for a quick and easy solo escape.

What Bode hadn't planned for was the escape not being solo; specifically having to take both Kata and a fragile Cal with him. Kata at least had the advantage of being small enough that the narrow vent walls didn't bother her, as long as BD-1 provided the light for her to crawl her way along. Following behind her, Cal was struggling.

“Take it easy,” Bode said as Cal stopped for the thousandth time.

“I am.” The gritted teeth in Cal’s reply were obvious. “I'm at the hatch.”

The route had involved an undignified crawl through a wall panel, before shimmying along a narrow vent channel. Bode had gone last and popped the panel back into place with a precision he knew would stand up to scrutiny. Once the soldiers broke into the detention block, it would be just like they had disappeared.

Now the last hurdle was a short drop through a hatch into the unmonitored maintenance passage below. Cal shuffled up a bit more, allowing Bode to see the glow of BD-1's torchlight eyes coming from beneath them. Kata had already swung herself down with ease, followed by BD-1 firing his thrusters for a controlled landing. The floor was barely more than his body height below him, but Cal gripped the edge with tense fingers, trying to work himself up for the drop.

“Here,” Bode said. “Let me-” He reached for Cal's shoulder, but as soon as he touched him, Cal flinched away.

“I've got it,” Cal muttered.

Bode closed his eyes for a second, glad for the darkness that covered his face. This thing that twisted inside his chest wanted him to be angry at the snub and he had to clench his jaw to stop himself from saying something that he knew he’d regret. If Cal didn't want his help, then that was his choice. 

Cal’s arms shook as he tried to lower himself down the hatch, and Bode could only sit back and watch him struggle. Eventually Cal dropped and his small gasp of pain - and bwee of concern from BD-1 - suggested he hadn't stuck the landing.

“Are you okay?” Kata asked. When Bode crawled to the edge, Kata had a token hand on Cal's arm as he steadied himself against the wall. Cal nodded in answer, face tense, and Bode used that as a cue to drop down beside him, then reached up to close the hatch and surveyed the new terrain. The maintenance passage was at least big enough that they could all stand to full height, though Bode's head brushed the cold pipes that ran across the top. BD-1's eyes illuminated dull durasteel walls scattered with a mess of old wires and dust. No one had been down here in a long time. These maintenance passages ran all over the base, though not all connected, so they would need to carefully choose where and when to emerge. 

“Follow me,” Bode whispered, managing to squeeze past Cal without touching him. “And stay quiet. Can you do that, sweetheart?”

Kata nodded and Bode gave her a squeeze on the shoulder, relieved that she didn't shy away from his touch as well. He hadn't trained her in the formal sense of the word, but Kata had enough bitter experience by now to know when to make herself small and silent.

Bode led the way, trying to put as much distance between them and the detention centre as he could, but between Cal's tired shuffle and Kata's little legs, it wasn't as quick as he'd like. 

At least it gave him time to plan. Unfortunately, no matter how he looked at it, their prospects weren't great. Even free, unseen and deep within the bowels of the station, they were still at a disadvantage. Nova Garon was an asteroid, floating in a dead part of empty space, so Bode, Cal and Kata needed a ship, and the whole base knew it. No matter that the soldiers had lost sight of their quarry; all they needed to do was stack the odds in their favour and wait for the mark to bolt. Nothing about this situation was fair, and that was exactly how the ISB liked it.

They had two options: the Mantis or the base’s hangar. If Bode was Denvik (assuming that slippery bastard had regained consciousness by now), then the first place he'd secure would be the main hangar, where Bode’s little Z-95 sat refuelled and ready to go. 

“Where is the Mantis?” Bode asked, quietly enough that anyone listening through the walls wouldn't hear him. 

Cal hesitated for a moment before answering. “An old cargo hangar, upper levels.”

Bode pinched the bridge of his nose, thinking it through. The Mantis could be waiting for them, shielded from ISB detection by Merrin's cloaking magick, or they could have already left, gone for backup after Cal hadn't returned. If they went for the Mantis and it was there, it would be a bloody miracle. And if it wasn't there, then it would be a long, dangerous journey back to the main hangar that none of them, especially Cal, were in good enough shape to manage. 

“Do you think Merrin and Greez will kill me if I take you back to them looking like that?” Bode asked.

“Hah,” Cal deadpanned, pausing for breath with a hand on the wall to support himself. “Hah.”

“I'll take that as a yes. Can you sense them?”

“I already tried that,” Cal said, and if Bode didn't know better, he'd say Cal was offended by the question. “They’re too far away, even if I was at full strength.”

“What about you?” Bode asked BD-1. “If I plugged you in, could you get a message to the Mantis?” 

“Did you just replace me, Akuna?” Cal asked in mock indignation.

Despite himself, Bode shrugged. “What can I say, even Jedi powers pale in comparison to BD's raw abilities.”

BD-1 beeped enthusiastically and Cal chuckled, the sound raw in his throat. “He knows you're just trying to butter him up.”

Kata laughed too and Bode found himself having to shush everyone. He met Cal's eyes over his shoulder, and Cal smiled back at him, and just for a moment everything was normal. There was no ISB, no Denvik, no dark side; just a haphazard little family joking around together. Cal had turned him down when Bode had offered him that dream before, back on Jedha, but maybe it wasn’t too late to try again. Bode, Kata and Cal: safe together on Tanalorr, where the Empire could never touch them again.

Tanalorr. The compass to which was stashed on board the Z-95.

“Let's stop,” Bode said abruptly. “We need to make a plan.”

With a long groan, Cal slumped straight to the ground. Bode gave him a sideways look, but went to check on Kata first.

“How are you holding up?” he asked.

“Fine.” That was always her answer, no matter how many times he asked. Kata sat on the floor with her arms wrapped around her legs, scratching the fabric of her trousers with one finger. “We can't go home again, can we?” 

“This place was never home,” Bode said, kissing the top of her head. “We're going to go somewhere much better, but you have to trust me to keep you safe, okay?” 

Kata put her chin on her knees. “Okay, Papa.”

Sometimes he wished Kata wasn’t so very good at keeping quiet and following orders, that she would cry or complain like a normal kid. It was Bode who’d taught her that - don't draw attention, don't make a fuss, survive, survive, survive. The blank calm on her face now was proof that she had borne the weight of his burdens for far too long. “You're so brave,” he said. “You just have to keep being brave a little longer.”

Kata nodded, and BD-1 chose that moment to scuttle closer, making her smile as he nudged her hand and trilled, asking her to pet him. Bode smiled with a finger on his lips, then went back to Cal. 

“You should leave me behind,” Cal said with no preamble. 

Bode glared at him as he sat down. “Very funny.”

“Hear me out.” Cal leant his head against the wall, eyes blinking heavily. “You and Kata get away, but we do it in a way that makes them think all four of us have, so they call off the search. Meanwhile, I find a small hole to crawl into, BD steals me some food from whatever passes as a cantina in this place, and when I'm feeling better, I'll make my own way out.”

Was this Cal's way of telling him he didn't trust him to get them all out safely, that he'd rather split up? “Absolutely not!” Bode hissed. “What do-”

“Look.” Cal held up a hand, to show Bode how badly it was trembling. “I can't fight. I can barely walk. Let's be honest, if we get attacked, I'm a liability you and Kata don't need.”

Just like that, Bode's anger was swapped out for a deep worry: every bit as powerful and every bit as distracting. He wanted to think about this rationally, like an ISB agent should - and usually, if you needed someone to put emotions aside and get the job done no matter the cost, Bode was your man. But this was Cal.

“Bode.” When Bode looked at Cal again, he was shocked to see actual tears in his eyes. “I'm holding it together for Kata because I don't want to scare her, but I'm on the fucking edge here.”

Bode's hand closed over Cal's fingers, and, despite his shaky inhale, Cal didn't pull away. This was the Cal who never gave up, who always pushed through, telling Bode that he couldn't carry on. All of Denvik's merciless attention must have been so much worse than Bode had realised, and just the thought made his stomach churn. “I'm not leaving you.”

Cal closed his eyes and turned away, swallowing hard. “Please, Bode,” he whispered. “You and Kata-”

“If I leave you, you'll die here,” Bode said roughly, and that was enough to push Cal over the edge. His breath came out in little gasps as he tried to slow the tears that flowed freely down his cheeks. Oh, how desperately Bode wanted to kiss those tears away, to pour his own strength into Cal until he had nothing left to give. But BD-1's distraction of Kata had only worked for so long, and she was already watching them both with anxious eyes. How could he explain to her what Cal meant to him when he could barely even articulate it himself? He settled for pulling Cal's head against his shoulder and holding him as tightly as he dared.

“Well, tough luck, Scrapper,” Bode murmured. “Because I’m going to get us out of here. All of us. No matter what it takes.”

“The darkness,” Cal croaked, shivering in Bode's arms. “I know you feel it.”

“...Yes,” Bode managed, hating that merely acknowledging the fucking thing made his voice waver.

“It’s strong.”

“Yes.” Bode had to force the word out again. “It is. But we’ll-”

“It's not stronger than you,” Cal said, gentle and broken yet so very certain.

“No?” Bode smiled. If he wasn't careful, he'd actually start believing he deserved Cal's faith in him. “We’re going to get a ship, but first you need to rest. Let me handle everything else.”

Cal tried to protest as Bode cradled him to the floor, but as soon as he was horizontal he sighed deeply and closed his eyes.

“Sleep,” Bode said in a low voice, and a light nudge with the Force was all it took for Cal to finally succumb to his weariness. Time ground to a halt as Bode watched the deep in-out of Cal's rhythmic breathing, the tears still glistening wet on his eyelashes. With his back to Kata, Bode brushed a soft thumb over Cal's cheekbone, letting his fingers trace the freckles he'd always wanted to touch. By all accounts they were still utterly fucked, but Cal trusted him, and that was more than enough. 

With a deep breath, Bode stood, the plan fully formed in his head now. They would go for the Z-95 and the compass - go for Tanalorr - but they had to misdirect Denvik and the rest of the base elsewhere first to clear the way. For that, Bode had everything he needed: Denvik's datapad, BD-1 and his own encyclopaedic knowledge of ISB processes and protocols. All he had to do was find an appropriate terminal to work from.

“Cal's not feeling very well,” Bode said to Kata, taking out Denvik's blaster and looking down the scope to check it was still good to go. “He needs to rest for a while.”

“Is he sick?” 

Bode was never sure how much of the truth to tell her. “No, he's not sick, but he is hurt. I need to go and make sure we can get to our ship. Can you watch over him for me?”

Kata looked at Cal's supine form and nodded once. Another order she’d follow dutifully, without complaint.

“BD, you're with me,” Bode said. 

BD-1 beeped with the same reluctance that Bode felt. Neither of them wanted to leave Cal or Kata, but it would be far faster and safer without them.

Bode knelt down and gave Kata a quick hug goodbye. “Without BD, you won't have any light down here. Are you going to be okay?”

“I'm not scared of the dark,” Kata said. 

Bode ruffled her hair. “That's my girl.”

—

Cal woke to darkness. With a gasp, he surged upright, feeling for the restraints of the interrogation chair, and sagging with breathless relief when he found none. He'd slept like he was dead, still and dreamless, but now that he was awake, everything returned with a rush: the endless, endless haze of torment under Denvik, the way the mind probe had wrung him out and left him empty, and the bloodthirsty bile of the dark side thrumming deeply through Bode. He had to put his hands on his head and squeeze hard to fend the rising panic off, breathing as deeply as he could through gritted teeth.

“Hello?” said a voice, and Cal was halfway to his lightsaber before he realised it was Kata. “Are you awake?”

Wearily, Cal brushed a hand over his face. His eyes were crusty with dried tears. “Yeah,” he said, his throat doing its best to close over the word. “Yeah, I'm awake. Where's Bode?”

“Papa and BD went to get the ship,” she said. 

Cal shivered. It was cold here, and so dark that he couldn't see his hand in front of his face. He didn't like that he didn't know where he was, and liked even less that he didn't know where Bode was. At least Bode had BD-1 with him, to keep him out of trouble. “How long has he been gone?”

A rustle of fabric implied Kata had shrugged. “A few hours? I'm not sure.”

Slowly, Cal started to pull the pieces of himself back together. After swallowing down the memories of the last rotation, he did actually feel better for a few stolen hours of sleep, though the haze of bone-deep weariness remained. He fiddled with the pommel of his lightsaber, missing BD-1's familiar weight on his back. There was nothing he could do now but wait for Bode to return - certainly not Cal’s preferred role, but his body would thank him for the continued excuse to rest.

“Papa said you're hurt,” Kata said.

Cal stretched his arms experimentally above his head. Yep, everything was still stiff and painful, but at least he felt like he could stand up without immediately keeling over again. “I've had worse.”

“Oh.”

Cal grimaced. He couldn't say flippant things to Kata like he would to Bode or Merrin. She was a child, and a far too perceptive one at that. “I mean, I'm feeling better,” he amended. This would be so much easier if he had BD-1 to keep her occupied. What had she even been doing this whole time, sitting patiently in the dark? Seven year old Cal would have been bouncing off the walls by now. “Sorry I was asleep for so long. Have you been okay down here by yourself?” 

“I'm used to being by myself,” Kata said. “I don't mind it. But normally I have my Mookie doll.”

Well, that was depressing. “Your doll?” 

“Mmhmm. But I had to leave him behind when the soldiers… um…” 

Poor Kata. A captive figuratively, and then literally, all so that Denvik could keep Bode on a tight leash. What a life. “Well,” Cal said, shifting his weight, “I happen to know a guy called Greez who is really good with a needle. When we get out of here, I'm sure we can make you a new doll.”

“Oh,” Kata said again. “My Mama gave him to me.”

Cal could have kicked himself. What a stupid thing to say to a lonely child who'd already seen far too many of the galaxy's horrors. When Cal had asked once, Bode had told him that Kata's mother had been killed by the Empire, though he knew no more detail than that - not even her name. Bode had never brought it up again, and Cal hadn't wanted to ask a second time. “I'm sorry,” he offered, knowing that the words would never be enough.

“It's okay. I don't remember her much.”

“I don't remember my parents either,” Cal admitted. Had he ever wanted to? No Jedi had parents, just brothers and sisters, masters and teachers. But he knew what it was like to lose someone you relied on as a child. “You're lucky to have your dad. He really loves you, you know.”

“I know.” For a moment Kata was silent, and Cal wished he could see her face - but the only light source he had was his lightsaber, and igniting that didn't seem like a great idea right now. She looked so much like Bode, and the bond between them was obviously strong, but even when she had been in her father's arms, the sadness in her face hadn't disappeared. “I think… I think Papa is hurt too,” Kata said. 

Bode's eye was blacking up nicely, but Cal had a feeling that wasn't what Kata was saying. “What do you mean?”

Kata hesitated again. “Hurt on the inside. I don't know how to describe it. He feels… spiky. Cold.”

Biting his lip, Cal considered his answer. He didn’t want to worry her with talk about the dark side, of the fear and desperation that had driven Bode to use it, but he didn't want to lie to her either. With a deep breath, he said, “It's complicated. Your dad is under a lot of pressure right now, and people under pressure don't always make good choices.”

Kata thought about his words. “What choice did he make?”

Cal rubbed the back of his neck. He'd forgotten how blunt children could be. No wonder young Cal had driven his master crazy, though Jaro Tapal had always responded with infinite patience. Cal tried to channel that now. “Sometimes, when you're trying to save someone, you can't really think about what's right or wrong. Your dad did some things that… that damaged him on the inside.”

“Bad things,” Kata concluded. “Is that why the soldiers came for me?” 

“No!” Cal had spent enough long years blaming himself for what happened to his master; he didn't want Kata to do the same. “There are people trying to hurt your dad, and they tried to use you to make him do what they wanted. But your dad didn't let them.”

“Did he kill them?”

“We both did,” Cal admitted. “Some of them, at least.”

“But you don't feel cold like Papa.”

And that’s because it wasn’t about the killing. The dark side didn’t stick to Cal when he killed stormtroopers, or raiders, or bounty hunters, or any of the other unsavoury people he regularly introduced to his lightsaber blade. It was about the sick sense of enjoyment that Bode got from watching Denvik suffer.

“Killing people to save the lives of others can sometimes be the right thing to do,” Cal said. “But acting out of fear and anger can hurt you as well as other people.”

“I think I understand,” Kata said slowly. “I've never known Papa to be angry before, but he's scared all the time, even when he tries not to show me.”

And didn't that just twist something sad and sharp in Cal's chest. Bode had been trapped in a cycle of fear and control before he went anywhere near the dark side. Denvik had so much to answer for, and if killing him wouldn't have sent Bode headfirst off a deep drop, Cal would have gladly leant a hand. “The important thing is that he's trying his hardest to get through it, and to make sure you're safe.”

“Okay,” Kata said, and she did sound slightly happier. “Will he get better?” 

Cal wanted desperately to say yes. There was no guarantee, but Cere had pulled through, and even Trilla had taken a step back towards the light before she died. “I hope so,” Cal said. “We'll both help him, you and me, right?”

“Right!” Kata said enthusiastically. “It's nice that Papa has a best friend. Where we're going next, do you think I can have one too?”

“I happen to have an opening for another best friend, right now, if you like.”

Kata giggled shyly. “Don't be silly, you can't have more than one.”

“Well, I won't tell anyone if you don't,” Cal said, pleased with himself for having made her laugh. If she'd sensed the dark side in Bode, then there was no question of her own Force-sensitivity. No wonder Bode had been so desperate to get her out of here - if Denvik knew that little tidbit, he'd have a new threat to hold over Bode's head.

“Are you really a Jedi?” Kata asked. 

That was a loaded question if ever he'd heard one, even coming from a kid. How much had Bode really told her about her heritage? Did she even know what she was? “What do you know about the Jedi, Kata?” 

“Papa used to tell me stories about them, back when I was little. He said they were great warriors, helping to protect the galaxy from evil.”

“Well, that's true,” Cal said, “but there aren't very many of us left.”

“When I grow up, I'd like to be a Jedi,” Kata said. “So I can protect other people. Can you teach me?” 

Cal laughed nervously. She had no idea what she was asking him for. “I think we'd have to ask your dad first.”

Before he heard footsteps, Cal heard the distant sounds of BD-1 chattering away. One blink after the other, the maintenance passage walls brightened from black to grey, until Cal could see Kata clearly. She looked at him, eyes a little brighter, face a little softer, but didn't actually smile until BD-1 skittered into view, his eyes sending beams of light up the walls.

“BD!” she cried, and leapt up to greet him. Cal followed her to his feet, and threw BD-1 a thumbs up over Kata's shoulder, giving him permission to bweep excitedly at her.

“Ask me what?” Bode said, appearing close behind. His face broke into a relieved grin when he saw Cal upright, but before Cal could answer his question, Kata threw herself at him in the most energetic display of affection Cal had seen so far. 

“We're going to help you, Papa,” Kata said. “Me and Cal.”

“Are you now?” Bode asked, making Kata giggle when he squeezed her into a tight hug and layered kisses on her cheeks.

Carefully, Cal examined Bode, both with his eyes and through the Force. The dark side was still there, of course, but far below the surface now, no more than a gentle undercurrent. Cal blinked away his relief. It wasn't that he didn't trust Bode, but that moment between the interrogation room and Kata's cell when Bode had been alone with Denvik still nagged at the back of his mind. He'd half expected Bode's first port of call to be to murder Denvik in whatever medbay he was recuperating in. Instead, Bode looked… well, good. Determined, hopeful, so much more like the Bode he was used to. It made something warm bubble up in Cal’s chest, and he had to look away to contain it.

Kata's voice dropped to a smug whisper. “Cal says he's going to be my best friend next, so you'll have to find a new one.”

“Oh yeah?” Bode smirked and raised his eyebrows at Cal.

“Traitor,” Cal teased. “We agreed we wouldn't tell him that.”

Kata laughed again and Bode had to shush her. “Quietly,” he said, but he was smiling as he said it. “BD, why don't you show Kata what you found?” 

BD-1 beeped and beckoned Kata after him. As soon as they disappeared round the corner of the tunnel, Bode looped an opportunistic hand around Cal's waist and pulled him so close that Cal could feel his breath on his face. 

“You stealing my daughter away, Kestis?” Bode rumbled good-naturedly, the fingers of his other hand playing over the nape of Cal's neck with an agonising softness.

Cal promptly forgot how to breathe, the warmth in his cheeks not just because of the glow of Bode's body against his. But amidst all the intoxicating sensations of being chest to chest with Bode was that undercurrent of darkness - and this close it wasn't gentle, but simmering away deep in Bode's core. In a flash, the suffocating crush of darkness overpowered the heat racing through Cal’s veins. He pushed Bode away with a sudden panic, his breathing quickened by a twist of both fear and desire that he didn't know how to untangle. 

Hurt flickered in Bode's eyes. Then Kata made a noise of surprise and Bode turned around, his back to Cal. Kata returned holding an orange and blue doll tight in her arms, tears in her eyes.

“Mookie,” she said. "You found him."

“We couldn't leave him behind, could we?” There was a strain in Bode's voice that Cal was sure had nothing to do with Kata, and everything to do with him.

“Thank you,” Kata said, lips trembling. 

“You should thank BD, not me,” Bode said. “He's the one who snuck into our quarters to fetch him.”

When Kata threw her arms around BD-1, Cal lightly touched Bode's back, braced this time for the bite of darkness that came snapping from Bode into his fingertips. “Hey,” he said quietly. “Can we talk about this later?”

Bode exhaled hard through his nose, but didn't look away from Kata. “Yeah. Yeah, of course. Later.”

Cal chewed on the inside of his lip. He hadn't meant to push Bode away. The dark side in Bode was still too raw, and Cal didn't have the strength he needed right now to face it. Despite his short nap, the headache was slowly returning, and they still had a long way to go before freedom.

BD-1 ran to Cal and swung up onto his back, and Kata took Bode's hand. With the four of them - plus Mookie - in a small circle, Cal asked, “So what's the plan?” 

Chapter Text

The plan was misdirection: subtle yet simple. One Jedi was a threat to this base, so two meant code red: all units engage. Once Denvik knew where Bode and Cal were, he was going to send everyone. And that, paradoxically, would be their opening for escape.

“BD sent a message to the Mantis, telling them to be ready for extraction,” Bode explained as they made their way through the dim maintenance passages. “Even if the ship’s not there, Denvik will pick it up."

“Won't that be too obvious?” Cal asked. He was moving better than before, but still obviously in discomfort. If Bode wasn't so keenly aware of the distance Cal had put between them, he would have offered a hand to help him along. 

Bode shook his head. “I encrypted it with everything I know. It will look like a message that doesn't want to be found, but Denvik will find it.” He knew what Cal's next question would be. “I told the Mantis not to respond. More messages means more chance for detection. Sorry. I don't know if they're still on the base or not.”

Cal nodded, his mind elsewhere. Worrying about Greez and Merrin no doubt, like they couldn't handle themselves on a ship that had made far riskier getaways, if just one of Greez's many, many cantina tales was to be believed. 

“Next up: cameras. BD and I messed with them all over the base, but particularly in the channels leading to the cargo bay. Then I closed blast doors, ordered droids out of charging stations, set off alarms in a trail of different false leads. At the moment, it's too difficult to guess which one is real. Denvik is poised to go for the Mantis, but he won't have committed yet. He's waiting for the final piece of the puzzle.”

“Which is?” 

Bode smiled grimly. “A sighting. He won't believe anything except confirmed eyes on us.”

Cal sighed, and Bode knew why. Even before Saw Gerrera regularly used Cal as the vanguard of his terrorism, to distract Imperial eyes from his more delicate operations and agents, the Mantis crew had been doing the same thing. Stick a lightsaber and a recognisable face in front of a bunch of Imperials, and they'll be too conveniently preoccupied to watch the other insurgents creeping in and out of their back door. But Bode had no intention of using Cal as bait - not now, and not ever. 

“I've set up a relay through the commlinks,” Bode explained. He and BD-1 had gained access to every system - big or small - in the station through Denvik's datapad, because it turned out Denvik liked to control everything. “I’ve already recorded several reports of a sighting, and I can make them seem like they came from any buckethead on this rock, with the trooper in question none the wiser. And when Denvik sends everyone to the Mantis, we'll sneak straight into the hangar unimpeded.”

“Perfect,” Cal said. “So we just need a commlink.”

And for a commlink, they'd need to steal one from a stormtrooper. The trick would be to take the trooper out before they could report the real attack. An actual sighting of Bode and Cal would bring their plan to an end before they had time to implement a new one. Stealth, speed and mercilessness: all things that Bode excelled at.

“You’re up for this?” Bode asked Cal.

“Are you, old man?” Cal countered. That twinkle was back in his eye, damn him.

Since Bode had ripped open the door of his own hurt, allowing himself to really feel the pain and anger he’d been keeping at bay for years, he found that all his other emotions were cast in perfect clarity too, like calm skies in the centre of a ravenous storm. He could trace the knife-sharp edges of the grief he thought he’d abandoned so long ago at Tayala’s graveside to focus on keeping Kata alive. When Kata squeezed his hand, he remembered the real reason why he was doing all this: not because he was running from the Inquisitors but because he was running towards the bright future that Kata deserved.

Then Cal looked at him like that and Bode could finally put into words that he - fuck, he loved him. Had for a long time now. And that was terrifying to admit because the last person he'd loved had ended up on the Inquisitor's blade that was meant for him.

Bode took a long breath. This time would be different. It already was: Tayala had been soft and safe and gentle in all the ways that Bode wasn't anymore. Cal was fire and fury and had never figured out how to walk away from a fight - but Bode knew, he knew, just like he had with her. 

And even if Cal didn't want him - if Bode was too broken, too twisted, too angry for Cal to bear to touch - even then, he was going to make sure that Cal survived. No matter what it took, because Bode Akuna loved Cal Kestis. 

—

Cal Kestis loved hunting stormtroopers. It was one of his favourite pastimes. Under normal circumstances he could afford to enjoy it (although he wasn't sure he was technically supposed to, under the Jedi code), because he could reliably get himself out of any corner they backed him into. It was easy. Now he stretched his arms and legs out as they walked, trying to gauge how much his movement was restricted by his sore, abused muscles. Too much, by his best estimate, despite his breezy assurances to Bode. 

“We won't be long,” Bode said to Kata before they left her in the maintenance tunnels again. Hopefully BD-1 and Mookie would be better company for her this time than an unconscious Cal. “One last thing, then we'll go straight for the ship. I promise.”

“See you soon, best friend,” Cal added, holding his hand up for Kata to smile and slap a clumsy high five onto.

A short walk in the dark, hands on the walls for guidance, brought Cal and Bode to a grated vent casting blades of light into the tunnel from the other side. It was all that separated them from the bright open hallways of the main base, where hundreds of pairs of eyes were looking to hunt them down. Cal shivered as he peered through, making sure the coast was clear.

“Where are we?” Cal asked, shuffling aside so Bode could take a look. It wasn't lost on him that Bode was deliberately trying not to touch him, and he couldn't decide if he should feel more grateful or guilty about it. 

“Lower-levels. We're close to the hangar now.” Bode pointed through the grate. “That way. There's a small office that's rarely used. I can't imagine that anyone is doing their day job with the whole base on high alert, so as long as we time it to avoid the patrols, we should have a clear run. Five minutes in the open, tops. Plus BD already took out the cameras here.” He realised Cal was staring at him. “What?”

“I really fucked up when I came here, didn't I?” Cal murmured. Even once he'd realised Nova Garon was an ISB base, he'd been so focused on finding Bode that he hadn't stopped to consider that this was one of the most dangerous places in the galaxy for him to come, apart from the fortress on Nur. “I guess I thought I'd always be able to fight my way through everyone if I needed to.”

“In fairness, that does usually work for you,” Bode pointed out.

Cal snorted. “Well, there’s a first time for everything.”

“Let’s hope not,” Bode said. “They've upped patrols, but don't have the numbers to man them properly. I think there’ll be two, three max.”

They waited quietly until a patrol went past. Bode was right: just two stormtroopers together, covering too much ground to properly pay attention to two pairs of eyes peering at them through a grate. As soon as they were sure the patrol wouldn’t hear them, they climbed out of the vent and settled into the familiar rhythm of their well-worn partnership. Bode led the way, guiding them effortlessly through shiny blank-walled corridors that all looked the same to Cal. They saw no one, but that didn’t stop him from keeping one hand tight on his lightsaber as they walked, just in case. In the dark confines of the maintenance tunnels, it had been easy to feel safe: here in the light, Cal felt exposed all over again.

The office Bode took them to was tiny. It contained nothing but a bank of desks surrounding a central terminal and, crucially, a double-doored cabinet that would be more than big enough to hide a couple of stormtrooper bodies. They left the door to the office wide open, so they'd have a full view of any passing patrols.

“One trooper each,” Cal said, his smile coming out savage.

Bode checked his blaster. “On your signal. Quick and quiet. Don't give them a chance to call for help.”

Cal slid behind the terminal and out of view. They didn't have to wait long. The sound of stormtroopers’ footsteps approaching made Cal feel uncharacteristically nervous, but the first patrol that passed by didn't even glance their way, and disappeared around the corner while Cal was still gearing himself up for the attack. Exactly ten minutes later, the next patrol arrived, and this time Cal was ready. Hands firm in the Force, he pulled the stormtroopers as hard as he could into the room, staggering them both - one for him, and one for Bode. With the same backwards movement he drew his lightsaber.

Cal's blade cut a molten seam into the first stormtrooper's armour. Then the darkness whipped out like a lightning crack as Bode took aim at the second stormtrooper with his blaster. Cal only just managed to catch the bolt with a last-minute thrust of his lightsaber, shoulders screaming at him as he did so. The bolt rebounded off the blade and buried itself in a smoking hole in the wall behind Bode's head. Cal took in Bode’s look of sudden fury and swiftly slammed the hilt of his lightsaber into the second stormtrooper's face - once, twice, shattering the plastoid and sending the stormtrooper unconscious to the ground.

Bode jammed his blaster back into its holster. “What the hell, Kestis? Why did you block my shot?”

Looking at Bode was hard again, because the darkness surrounded him like storm clouds. Only this time, his anger was aimed at Cal. Cal took a couple of deep breaths, steadying himself. “This isn't you,” he said. “Stand down.”

Bode snorted, but at least had the presence of mind to go and close the door to the office, sealing them and their raised voices inside. “Why the hell should I?” 

“You know why. A Jedi doesn't kill out of hatred. You can't let the-”

“I am not a Jedi!”

Cal flinched at that, couldn't help it. They hadn't spoken about this, or any of Bode's many secrets that had tumbled out into the open since Jedha, all the people he had been. Bode was an ISB agent. Bode was a Jedi. Bode had sold them out to the Empire for the compass, then risked everything to free Cal. There wasn't the time to pick it all apart because they were still on the run, hiding in vents and empty offices, trying not to let Kata know how dangerous this really was.

“We need to kill him,” Bode said. He moved towards the unconscious stormtrooper and Cal instinctively stepped in front of him. Last time they'd been this close Cal had thought about kissing him; this time his stomach twisted with nausea at the way the cold waves of the dark side licked at Bode's skin.

“No.”

“Oh, wake up, Cal!” Bode snapped. “This isn't about your precious Jedi morals. If he wakes up, or gets free, or someone discovers we’ve taken a commlink, we won't have a clean shot at the hangar anymore. Do you want Denvik to put you back in the chair?”

Cal touched his wrists. The blood had long since dried, but the skin was bruised, ripped and sore. It wasn't that the prospect of suffering more torture scared him, but the helplessness of being at Denvik's mercy did, and Bode using it to threaten him with wasn't fair. “I won't let you kill him.”

Bode scoffed and gestured to the other body, where the plastoid was still smoking sweetly. “Right, because it was perfectly acceptable for you to kill yours? You're so pure of heart even when you're slicing men in half? Look me in the fucking eye and tell me you don't hate them.”

“I didn't kill him because I hate him,” Cal protested. How could Bode think that? Then again, how could Cal not think that? Bloodlust sang in his veins every time he heard the modulated crackle of stormtrooper screams through their vocoders. Every time he threw one off a cliff to fall, fall, fall to their death, or buried his lightsaber up to the hilt in their useless white armour. They represented everything Cal abhorred: blind loyalty to a murderous regime, a callous disregard for civilian life, the faceless march of imperialism tearing the galaxy apart.

“You'd kill a hundred stormtroopers as a light warm-up before breakfast,” Bode said. “You'd kill one for looking at you the wrong way.”

“Yeah, I would.” Cal found his own anger and it rose to the surface like a living thing. “But I haven't fallen to the fucking dark side, have I?” 

As soon as the words were out of his mouth, he regretted them. That wasn't fair either. Bode's face hardened, his fists clenching and unclenching at his sides. 

“Fine,” he said, and it scared Cal so much more that his voice was quiet. “Fine. If you're so perfect, you kill him.”

Cal looked down at the unconscious stormtrooper. His helmet was in pieces around him, and Cal couldn't quite see his face for all the shards of plastoid. His stomach rebelled anyway. “I can't do that.”

“Why not?” Bode was goading him now. “Afraid you'll get a little taste of your own darkness?”

“It’s not like that,” Cal snapped. He wanted to put his hands over his ears to block Bode out, but how could he when the Force was screaming at him too?

“Afraid it’ll feel good? Afraid you'll enjoy it?”

“Bode! Stop.”

He hadn't meant to issue that command in the Force, but the power pulsed out of him anyway. The air shimmered, enveloping everything in the room and holding it still - the terminal, the stormtroopers, even Bode. Especially Bode. Cal sighed wearily, letting his frenetic thoughts bleed away into the sudden silence. “Sorry,” he whispered. Bode was fighting against it, but Cal couldn't release it even if he wanted to. He settled for wrapping his arms around Bode and pressing their foreheads together, like Bode had done the first time he'd kissed him.

The curdled thickness of Bode's darkness reared up, wrapped itself around Cal's throat and lungs. Cal kept his breathing steady and let the dashing winds of the storm tear into him where their bodies touched, cold and icy and sharp as a blade. “I'm sorry,” he repeated. The darkness dug and dug, searching for weakness. It drew out the searing pain of Bode's betrayal, Cal's desperate confusion about which master Bode served, his own fear of falling to the yawning black ocean of the dark side himself. But at the centre of everything was a big bright ball that the darkness couldn't touch: Cal trusted Bode. Betrayal or not, darkness or not, Cal would put his life in Bode's hands a hundred times over.

Time stabilised again. Bode slowly relaxed under him, curled his hands around Cal in return and squeezed hard. They stood nose to nose, breathing together as the darkness receded like the tide.

—

Bode was hollow, a shell of himself, and the only thing stopping him from shattering into icy pieces was the feel of Cal’s body warm against his. He buried his head in Cal’s shoulder, breathing him in, unable to let go. “Are you okay?” he asked.

“Yeah.” Cal's voice was shaking, and it was Bode who’d done that: frightened Cal into lashing out. So much for love. “Are you?” 

“I… don’t know.” The truth was Bode was tired, so tired. Trying to hold the darkness back was like building a stick fort in front of a tidal wave. It swept away every one of his attempts to control it, and if it could make him do that to Cal of all people, then couldn't Kata be next? The thought made him shudder. Cal noticed and pulled him a little closer.

This isn’t you, Cal had said, twice now, but Bode knew he was wrong. There was no part of the darkness that wasn’t just Bode’s own pain thrown into sharp relief. He wanted to scream that at Cal, shake his shoulders and make him see Bode for who he really was: a man soaked in the blood of all the people he’d killed to survive.

Cal shouldn’t trust him. He had no good reason to. But right now Bode needed Cal: bright and warm and solid and believing in him. If Bode told Cal who he really was, and lost that unwavering faith, then what did he have left?

“Bode?” Cal’s eyes searched Bode’s, shining and beautiful, the question full of tenderness. Bode wanted Cal to devour him whole, to tear him apart layer by bloody layer until nothing remained but that look, and whatever speck of Bode might be worthy of it.

“We've wasted enough time,” Bode said, and his voice came out hoarse because those weren't the words he really meant to say. I fucking love you. Please forgive me. I don't want to ever make you feel like that again. “Let's grab a commlink and get back to Kata.”

But neither of them moved. Bode rubbed circles into the small of Cal's back with his thumbs, and he couldn't tell if the resulting shiver from Cal was pleasure or fear. He started to pull away, but Cal clung on. 

“Can I ask you something?” Cal asked hesitantly. 

Bode wanted to press his lips to Cal's temple and tell him that he never needed to ask permission for anything, that Bode's answer would always be yes. Instead he leaned back a little, out of the close embrace, and said, “It depends.” 

“Did Denvik ever hurt Kata?”

Bode squeezed his eyes shut and pictured Kata, the look on her face every time Denvik sent him away again. Only Cal's grip on him kept the rushing waves of the darkness at bay. “No,” he rasped. “Not… not physically, anyway. I always gave him just enough before it came to that.”

“He deserves to die.” Cal's anger shone with a righteousness that Bode had never quite managed. A few moments ago he'd wanted Cal angry, but now it just left him empty.

So many people in the galaxy deserved to die. Bode included probably - and enough people had certainly tried to kill him either way. Denvik would get what was coming to him, but it was looking like it wouldn't be Bode or Cal who got to do it. “If we see Denvik again, it'll only be because something's gone horribly wrong.”

“So, you didn’t do it earlier?” Cal had been gearing himself up for this question. “When you were alone with him?”

Bode had to look away and swallow. “I tried,” he said, because he couldn't tell an outright lie to Cal when he was close enough to kiss. “I tried to kill him. But I wasn't fast enough.”

Half truths buried among half truths. For now, Cal nodded, seemingly satisfied with Bode's reply.

Reluctantly, they broke apart. Bode stood straight on legs that wanted to fold beneath him. There was still a job to do. When they were free of this place, Bode resolved, he would tell Cal what he could.

Cal gestured to the unconscious stormtrooper. “You were right. We should kill him. Cover our backs.”

Bode looked at Cal and wanted to be better. “No,” he said with a sigh. “We’ll do it your way. The, uh, Jedi way.”

And the smile that lit up Cal’s face at that was worth more than every credit in the galaxy.

They worked together silently to tie up the stormtrooper and shut him in the cabinet along with the other body. Bode secured the commlink while Cal kicked as many shards of plastoid as he could under the desks. It wasn't ideal, and the part of Bode's mind that was always calculating the odds told him it wasn't worth the risk. Once upon a time, it wouldn’t have been. Now, for Cal, it was.

It was a short journey back to the maintenance tunnels. After they slipped back through the vent and Bode was happy they'd covered their tracks, Cal grabbed his hand.

“We can do this,” Cal said. “Straight to the finish line, right?”

He looked so earnest that Bode couldn’t help but tease him. “Need a minute to settle your nerves, Scrapper?”

“Something like that,” Cal admitted.

Bode squeezed his hand. Something bloomed between them, tender and fond, and this time it was Cal who made the first move, caressing Bode's jaw with one finger and drawing him forward. Bode closed his eyes and let Cal kiss him sweetly, sighing at the sparks that brushed along his lips.

“For the nerves.” Cal smiled. “And for luck.”

Bode laughed. He couldn't help it - Cal was just as immutable as ever. He lifted Cal's hand to his lips and said, “When we get out of here, you and I are going to have a proper conversation about this.”

“Only if you buy me dinner first,” Cal said with that sparkle in his eye. 

They walked the rest of the way back holding hands, guiding each other through the darkness of the maintenance tunnels, then mutually dropped them again just before they came into Kata's view. That was another honest conversion Bode was going to have to have once they escaped, one every bit as terrifying. But if Kata loved Cal even half as much as Bode did, they'd be okay.

BD-1 jumped on Cal and Kata threw her arms around Bode. Bode squeezed her back and let himself enjoy the moment. “Did you behave?” Bode asked, tapping the tip of Kata's nose. 

She scrunched it up. “I was quiet. BD taught me how to make shadow puppets.”

“That sounds fun,” Bode said, amused. Where had BD-1 picked up that trick? “We're going for the ship now. Are you ready?” 

Kata nodded and hugged Mookie to her chest, the last piece of Tayala that either of them had. “When we get to the ship, can I sit with Cal?”

The Z-95 was so small she'd probably have to sit on Cal's lap anyway. Bode smiled and ruffled her hair. “Of course, sweetheart.”

BD-1 had plotted the course: all they had to do was follow the maze of maintenance passages down towards the hangar. There were increased patrols here, so Bode made them go slowly, with BD-1's light at the lowest possible setting, just enough to see the path in front of them.

Concentrate, Akuna, he told himself. Like this was just one of the thousands of other missions he'd completed over the years, in places far more dangerous than this. He'd strolled head high into the jaws of enemy territory, side by side with people he was actively selling out to the Empire, knowing that the tiniest slip up would guarantee his death. At different times, in different places, he'd been hunted by clones, bounty hunters and Inquisitors alike, halfway across the galaxy and beyond. He'd infiltrated Saw Gerrera's operation when no one else could, had won the trust of elusive Jedi terrorist Cal Kestis himself, who not even the Inquisitors had managed to touch. Compared to that, this should be a walk in the park. 

But the nerves jangled in his belly the closer they got to the hangar. The difference was Cal and Kata, of course it was. Normally he could take risks, trust his instincts, improvise wildly when - not if - anything went wrong. With them here by his side, relying on him to get this right, there could be no margin for error, because he would not lose them here, not when they were so close. 

BD-1 led them around the corner, bypassing the main hangar entranceway. From a small grate in the wall, Bode could peer into the hangar itself, smell the familiar fuel and hot ion discharge that permeated its walls and floor. His heart stuttered when he saw the Z-95, right where he'd left it, tucked away at the back. Rows of stormtroopers and KX security droids guarded it, with more surrounding the entire boundary of the hangar, but that would all change soon. 

“Okay,” Bode whispered. “BD, time to plug in again.”

Everything was pre-prepared: the audio files of Bode reporting sightings of himself and Cal in a variety of his best Core World accents, the relay that connected them to the web of comms chatter throughout the base, the commlink that would anchor them into the system and provide a legitimate signature. Bode flicked through Denvik's datapad with practised fingers, finding patrol routes near the Mantis’ last confirmed location and the corresponding identifying trooper numbers that BD-1 would need to duplicate. He read them each out loud in a hushed voice, waiting for BD-1 to link himself in before starting the next one.

“Ready to go?” Bode asked Cal when they were done. He couldn't slow his heartbeat down. If Denvik didn’t take the bait, then they were out of options.

“Ready,” Cal confirmed. 

“Ready,” Kata echoed, mimicking Cal's firm nod.

“You heard them, BD,” Bode said with a grim smile. “Let's tell Denvik where we are.”

BD-1 booped softly, and sent the message. Denvik would receive the verbal reports of a sighting. He'd confirm the location near the cargo bay, maybe even see if he could trace the Mantis' signature first. And then, the order would go out to every soldier and combat droid who was available: engage.

While BD-1 started work on his next task - quietly loosening the cover on the grate, so they'd be ready to drop through - Bode took Kata's hands. “Listen to me very carefully,” he said. “Once we're in the hangar, keep hold of my hand. When I say go, we're going to run as fast as we can to the ship. Don’t look around, and don’t stop, no matter what happens. Do you understand me?”

“Yes, Papa,” Kata said. She was trying not to show it, but she was scared now. That was a good thing, Bode convinced himself. Fear would keep her focused, quiet, efficient. Fear would keep her alive. That was all that mattered in the end.

“Keep Mookie close,” Bode said, tucking her hair behind her ear. When they were on Tanalorr, Bode could hold Kata in his arms and tell her she was safe and finally mean it. “Just a little longer, and then we'll never come back here again.”

“Your dad and I will look after you,” Cal promised. He had his lightsaber hilt in his hand, and Kata looked at him like the stars shone from his face. 

The next bit was a waiting game. Bode stayed by the grate, keeping an eye on the troopers in the hangar while Cal fidgeted and BD-1 nosed Kata's hand, keeping her grounded. Minutes ticked past with agonising slowness. Eventually Bode stiffened as he saw the commander by the Z-95 receive a communication through his commlink, the message of Bode and Cal's apparent discovery filtering around the hangar to the rest of the troopers. Go, Bode willed, and, like clockwork, the order was issued, the troopers fell into smart lines and they began to hurry towards the exit.

Bode locked eyes with Cal. He didn't say anything but Cal nodded, implicitly understanding his meaning. Be ready. 

Line after line of troopers filtered out. In no time at all, the hangar was empty, at least as far as Bode could see. No doubt some remnant of control staff remained on duty, watching over the hangar from the tall glass windows of the control centres on either side. Bode and Cal wouldn't be able to stop them calling for help, but as long as they waited until the troopers were far enough away, they could get to the Z-95 well before that help arrived.

Bode waited as long as he could bear. “Let's move.”

Cal went first. He opened the grate that BD-1 had unscrewed and slipped into the hangar. Kata next: Bode lifted her down and into Cal's waiting arms before dropping next to them. So far, so silent.

The hangar was a wide open space, taller than it was wide. Little to no cover, except for the neat rows of ships standing against each wall: TIE fighters on the right, and TIE bombers on the left. A small overhang where they stood shielded Bode, Cal and Kata from the watchful eyes of the control centres; a few more steps and they'd be exposed on all sides. 

“See those ships?” Bode whispered to Kata, pointing to the TIE bombers, sturdier than the fighters and twice as broad. “If anything happens, I want you to run and hide behind them. Don't worry about me or Cal.”

Kata nodded, but she gripped Bode's hand like she'd die if she let go.

“Cal?” Bode asked. 

Cal ignited his lightsaber, his face calm and focused. “You first. I'll cover you.”

“Copy that.” Now was no time for sentimentality. Cal was a Jedi and could handle himself; Kata had to be Bode's focus. He took a deep breath and steadied himself. “Go.”

They ran. Bode made a beeline for the Z-95, abandoning stealth for speed. Kata's hand was locked in his, and he pulled her along, willing her to go faster. He didn't look up to check, but he could imagine the frenzy in the control centres above them at the sudden appearance of three fugitives and a lightsaber in the empty hangar, and the urgent, panicked messages that were being fired off to Denvik. The Z-95 got closer and closer. Cal didn't even need his lightsaber because there was no one left to shoot at them. 

Abruptly, Kata stopped dead. Her hand pulled out of Bode's, his momentum carrying him forward before he realised what had happened.

“Run and hide,” she whispered, her face white with fear.

“Cal, go start the engines,” Bode ordered, and Cal took a split second to look at Kata, nodded and kept running. “Sweetheart, let's go.” Bode grabbed Kata's hand again and tried to pull her along but she dug her heels in and refused to move. Without a thought, Bode bent down and swept Kata into his arms. She fought him, little fists beating against his grip, but he held her tight against his chest and turned back to the ship. 

The Z-95 exploded.

Bode threw himself to the ground, body shielding Kata. The fireball thundered into the air, the shockwave hitting them a split second later. Kata screamed as two more explosions hit both banks of TIEs, and Bode's instinct was never to use the Force because that's how you get discovered, but this time he didn't have a choice. He shoved away burning shrapnel that would have crushed them, feeling the darkness rush out to meet him as he did so. You've failed, it told him, roaring through his head like he was underwater. You've failed them both.

Bode raised his head. Everything was on fire. Smoke billowed up into the rafters and Nova Garon's TIE fleet had been reduced to burnt out twists of blackened metal. They had to get out of here before the troopers returned, but Kata was crying beneath him and Bode couldn't see Cal.

He couldn't see Cal. 

“Shit,” he breathed. “Shit.”

Instinct kicked in: hide, regroup, reassess. Coughing against the acrid stench of burning ion engines, Bode staggered to his feet, pulling Kata up with him. A TIE fighter’s wing had broken off and was half-leaning against the wall - it would do as cover, because it was one of the few things in sight that wasn't actively on fire. Bode pushed Kata down beneath it, running a hand over her soot-streaked face. “Stay here,” he said, but he recognised the shellshock in Kata's face, the stiffness in her limbs: she couldn't move even if she wanted to. “I'm going to find Cal.”

Walking back out into the flames was worse the second time. It was difficult to see through all the smoke, and not only had the explosions destroyed the ships, but they'd strewn pieces of them everywhere. Cal could be blown to atoms, or thrown off the edge into space, or trapped and dying slowly under the shattered body of a TIE, or… 

BD-1 was the only reason Bode found him: the little droid ran screeching up to Bode and led him back to Cal's body, lying among the scattered wreckage of the Z-95. “Oh please, please, please… ” Bode didn't know who he was begging, but his shaking hands found Cal's pulse point and confirmed he was alive. Bode blinked away tears as he tried to assess Cal's injuries. Cal had clearly been thrown back hard by the initial explosion: he bled freely from a nasty head wound and one leg was bent at an angle that made Bode shudder just looking at it.

Hide, regroup, reassess. Bode gritted his teeth. With Cal unconscious, and unable to walk even if he did wake up, there was no way to save him from the full force of Denvik's army that would arrive back at the hangar any moment now. Logically, Bode's best bet would be to leave him here, take Kata and plunge back into the maintenance tunnels as quickly as he could. Hide until he had a new plan. Could he do that, knowing that Cal was lost anyway? 

Bode hauled Cal up with two hands under his armpits and started to drag him back to the TIE fighter wing. Of course he couldn’t, not anymore. Kata's whole life, he'd done whatever it took to keep her safe, had betrayed everyone he'd ever claimed to care about - even Tayala, because who's to say he couldn't have fought the Inquisitor that came for him on Birren and won? Instead he’d chosen to run, to leave her to the fate that should have been his. 

But not again. Not this time, for so many reasons. Because his only other realistic option was the Mantis, and neither Merrin nor Greez would let him back on board if he turned up without Cal. Because going back into hiding would put Kata at more risk of harm as Denvik tore the place apart looking for them. Because that was how Denvik fucking won: he had backup plans for his backup plans, and wasn't afraid to do something absolutely insane if it meant he came out on top, like rigging his own TIE fleet to blow on the off chance that Bode and Cal chose to escape that way.

It boiled down to the fact that the Bode who had left Cal unconscious on Jedha wasn’t him anymore.

Kata gasped as Bode dragged Cal over to her, staggering on his final few steps and dropping Cal down harder than he'd meant to. Cal was in bad shape, but head injury or not, it would have been riskier to stay out in the open. Bode just had to pray that when Cal woke up he wouldn't have any permanent damage.

“Papa,” Kata managed, tears spilling over her cheeks, asking for comfort that Bode didn't know how to give. BD-1 looked over at her and bwooped sadly, but he didn't leave Cal's side. 

Shots hit the TIE fighter wing, and Bode pulled Kata away from the edge, making sure she was fully behind cover. The first wave of troopers and combat droids had returned to the hangar, and soon the rest would follow. Bode could take out his blaster and return fire, but what would be the point? He might kill a handful, or even more, but it wouldn't change what was about to happen. 

Denvik had explained it to him, in great detail. That had been Bode's first mistake: letting him talk. But in that moment between the interrogation room and Kata's cell, when he’d been alone with Denvik, he was still reeling from his first experience with the darkness. So, instead of giving in to it, he'd tried to defy it. Instead of killing Denvik, Bode had actually listened to him.

“You'll never make it off this base alive,” Denvik had sneered over the noise of the alarm. “You, more than anyone, know the power of the ISB. You don't stand a chance.”

Bode had ground his teeth together, pushing the darkness down, trying not to think of the way Cal had looked at him the first time he’d tried to kill Denvik. He knew he should say nothing, refuse to engage, but in that moment he forgot everything he'd ever been taught. “You're wrong,” he said. “Cal and I will-” 

“Yes, yes, you and the mark you think you're in love with.” Denvik laughed. “Pathetic. The second he finds out what you've done, who you really are, he'll kill you himself.”

Bode had growled, and made a grab for Denvik’s broken arm again, trying to force him into moving towards the cells. But despite Denvik's yelp of pain, he recovered quickly enough to throw Bode a gritted smile, a predatory glint in his eyes. 

“Why don't we make a deal? Your life for the Jedi's. Surrender, go quietly to your execution, and I swear Kestis won't be killed.”

“Liar,” Bode snarled. 

“Not necessarily. Kestis is useful to me,” Denvik said. “Once my troopers kill you, they'll put him back in the interrogation chair and this time I won't stop until he's told me everything I need to know. And after that? Well, you know how favourably the Inquisitorius look on those who hand them new recruits.”

The darkness pounded in Bode's head, telling him to kill and kill slowly. His fist flew out and collided with Denvik's face, sending him to the ground. Bode savoured the pained hitches in Denvik's breath, caught himself, and scrambled to reel himself back in.

But still Denvik kept talking. “Or maybe,” Denvik purred, “maybe your daughter will prove to be the more valuable of the pair - if I don't have to damage her too badly to get Kestis to talk, of course. Maybe I'll speak to the Inquisitorius about her next. I hear the younger they are, the easier they are to break.”

Denvik’s words shattered what little resistance Bode had. He hadn’t even let himself think about the possibility of Kata’s Force-sensitivity in case Devnik ever saw it on his face and sniffed weakness. The darkness soared to the surface, demanding he made Denvik suffer, and he twisted Denvik's broken arm just to hear him scream. But Denvik had passed out from the pain far too quickly to be satisfying, and the sound of approaching troopers meant there wasn't enough time to finish the job before Bode had fled after Cal. 

The thing was, Bode knew the ISB playbook. He'd lived it. Whatever Denvik did or didn't understand about the dark side, he knew everything about the power of despair. Now, in the wasteland of the hangar, tendrils of it were crawling through Bode's chest as the magnitude of what they were up against made itself clear, and the vague possibility of Denvik's taunts morphed into something more tangible. 

Cal and Kata would have to watch him die. Cal was far too broken to resist another round of torture, and if the Inquisitorius got hold of him, they would unmake him to his core and twist him into something so dark that it wouldn’t even be Cal anymore.

And Kata… She looked up at him expectantly, her fear hidden behind a blind, unquestioning faith that Bode wouldn't let her get hurt, because that was the lie he’d told her ever since she was little. If he failed her, what then? Tayala would have died for nothing. Everything Bode had fought for, had compromised himself for, over and over again, would have been for nothing. 

More troopers and droids poured into the hangar; Bode couldn't see them, but he could hear the echoing stomp of boots and metal legs, louder now than the roaring of the flames. The shots against the TIE fighter wing intensified. The troopers weren't trying to kill them, not really. Not yet. They were just trying to make them desperate enough to break cover. Bode could only imagine Denvik's glee, having him pinned down and trapped, knowing that Bode was fully aware of what awaited Cal and Kata once the troopers put a blaster bolt through his head.

No. Bode had no intention of dying, no intention of leaving Cal and Kata to their grim fates. There was another way.

Bode squeezed Kata hard. “I love you,” he said. “You know that?” 

Kata, too scared and in too much shock to form words, nodded. She'd managed to keep hold of Mookie despite everything, so Bode kissed the top of Kata's head, then Mookie's. 

“Whatever happens next,” Bode said, “I want you to stay here and close your eyes. Don't open them, no matter what you hear. Okay?”

With glassy eyes, Kata nodded again. Bode hoped that she would obey.

He shuffled over to Cal. Cal's skin was deathly pale, his bright hair dulled by ash. Bode’s fingers trembled as he brushed them against Cal's cheek, then bent down to press a kiss to his forehead. “Please be okay,” he whispered. “And please forgive me for what I’m about to do.”

Cal's lightsaber was still clutched in his hand; as gently as he could, Bode prised Cal’s fingers off it and felt the weight of it. Last time Bode held a lightsaber had been Dagan Gera’s on Jedha, where all he'd done was light up the red blade to distract Cal. It had been a long time since he’d actually wielded one, too long to remember, but he had to trust that the Force would guide him - for better or for worse. 

BD-1 beeped questioningly.

“It's okay, BD,” Bode reassured him. “You watch over Cal. I've got the rest.”

Bode gripped the lightsaber and moved to the edge of the TIE fighter wing. This was it, now or never. Bode took a deep breath, closed his eyes, opened the door. And the dark side rushed out to meet him. 

And it was so easy to let it in. 

The full, unequivocal embrace of the dark side was unlike anything Bode had ever felt. His veins sang with power, and his world narrowed down to a single thought: every trooper who'd ever threatened him and the people he cared about needed to die. This time he wasn't being consumed by the storm - he was the storm. 

He stepped out from behind the TIE fighter wing, stared down the troopers and droids firing at him. Time seemed to slow, though Bode was sure it was just that he was moving faster. Blaster bolts screeched past his head, and all he had to do was move out of the way. He didn't even need the lightsaber because he could call the Force to himself like a thundercloud, and rain death from above. A clenched fist, and five troopers died choking on their own lungs. Bode took a step forward. A sweep of his hand, and a whole row of droids flew into the air, cracked into the wall hard enough to break, then fell like dolls back to the ground. Another step forward. The rumble of the wind blew from Bode's hands, forcing the troopers back, away from Cal and Kata. 

And still the troopers kept coming. They saw the Force billowing around Bode and the bodies of their comrades on the floor, and still chose to follow orders and attack him. Pathetic, and futile. Bode waited until he was close enough to smell their fear before finally igniting Cal's lightsaber, calling the wind to him and pulling troopers into the blade before they could even cry out. The lightsaber hummed as if in pleasure as it cut through plastoid, metal and flesh alike, ending lives with a smoothness Bode had missed. Nothing killed faster, penetrated more easily, inspired more fear among Imperials. Was this how Cal felt all the time? Seeing troopers drop with each slash, carving wide bloody arcs into their fleeing backs, dealing death after death with every swing?

The troopers kept coming, and so did Bode. He lost track. Fifty, one hundred, a thousand? He'd been right: Denvik had sent everyone, so Bode wouldn't stop  - couldn’t stop - until he’d taken everyone who'd ever supported this base and the atrocities it committed and ground them into dust.

Until, finally, there was no one left to kill.

Bode took a step back, looked at his handiwork. Trooper bodies and limbs were scattered everywhere. The stench of cauterised flesh mingled with the tang of burnt TIEs. Death hung in the air like a solid thing. For a long moment, there was no sound at all except the steady burning of the ships and Bode’s own heavy breathing.

Kata. Cal. Bode stumbled back to the TIE fighter wing, but this time instead of gliding on the wind, it was like he was struggling against it. During the fight, he hadn't even noticed himself being hit. Now, he could feel the sting of blaster wounds in his shoulders, arms and chest, the bruising aches where he'd shrugged off blows from electrobatons like they were nothing. When he reached Cal's still body, he collapsed to his knees, watching his own limbs tremble from the ebbing adrenaline and rising tide of pain. 

“Kata,” he croaked, barely recognising his own voice, heart pounding in his throat. She was safe. He'd kept her safe, at the cost of so many lives. Maybe his own too, because black spots were dancing in his vision now. 

Kata crawled closer to him, shoulders shaking, one hand on Cal's arm and the other holding Mookie so hard she might break him. Could she feel it? The cold darkness rolling off Bode in waves, emptying him out from the inside? Everything was happening from so far away. He wanted to fall against Cal and Kata and hold them close, but he didn't deserve that while his hands were greasy with burnt flesh.

Kata screamed, her eyes jumping to something over Bode's shoulder. He turned in time to see Denvik raise his blaster, but too late to do anything about it. 

He felt rather than heard the blaster fire.

But there was no pain. Instead Denvik crumpled, a burning hole in his heart. Bode looked down to see Cal, upright but eyes barely open, Bode's blaster still hot in his hand.

“Cal!” Bode's hands found Cal's shoulders and lowered him gently back down to the ground.

Cal sighed, the blaster falling from his hand. “Bode,” he murmured. “Bode, I… The emptiness. It can be filled.”

Then he was gone again, eyes slipping closed and head lolling back against the ashen floor. Bode put his head on Cal's chest and couldn’t contain the sobs that tore out of him. For everything he'd gained, everything he'd lost, everything he could still lose. Denvik was dead and he should be elated but instead he just felt disconnected, like a lone wisp of wind blowing aimlessly through the rafters.

The sound of a ship's engine roared overhead, the wind rippling Cal's clothes under Bode's fingers. Bode couldn’t even look up. Whatever was bearing down upon them, he no longer had the strength, or the soul, to care.

“Kata, baby?” His tongue was too heavy and tasted like metal. He clung to consciousness like you only could when you were imminently losing that battle. “Stay close to me. Please. Stay with me.”

Chapter Text

Bode woke with a gasp. Someone was talking nearby, a distant murmur too quiet to make out the words, and when he instinctively tried to sit up his body wouldn’t let him. Raw blaster wounds and bruises gnawed at his chest and arms, and every muscle in his body burned with overexertion. He couldn't help the groan that punched its way out of him. 

“He's awake,” said a voice.

Bode cracked his eyes open. The light was bright enough to blur his vision, but he could see the shapes of two people moving closer to him - one tall and one short. 

“Cal?” he slurred. “Kata?”

But the hand that landed on him wasn't either of theirs. Bode tried to jerk away from the touch - and then panicked when one of his wrists didn't move. It was cold with metal: a cuff. Without a thought he lashed out with his free hand, hurling both people back with the Force, then fought his way upright. 

And blinked in surprise. He was on the Mantis, in the small cabin Cal had given him when he first joined the crew. Greez was sprawled on the floor in front of him, while Merrin had managed to stay on her feet.

“What the heck-?” Greez said, picking himself back up. “Was that the Force? That was the Force.” 

Cold fear shivered down Bode's spine: usually he didn't hang around for long enough to face up to the people he’d sold out to the Empire. And he'd just used the damn Force in front of them. Merrin was looking at him with open hostility, and, worst of all, his little girl wasn't here.

“Where's Kata?” Bode demanded. 

“Wait, hold on, are you telling me you've been a Jedi this whole time?” Greez asked. 

“This is the last time I'll fucking ask,” Bode snapped. With effort, he swung his legs over the side of the bunk and tested the cuff that kept him locked to the bunk rail. It didn't budge. “Where the fuck is my daughter?”

“Kata is safe.” Merrin had something far too intelligent in her eyes that only made Bode’s dread grow. She was putting the pieces together - Kata, the Force, his betrayal on Jedha, that night she'd seen him kiss Cal. If she wanted to use Kata against him, she wouldn't be the first to try. “We do not harm children. She is resting.”

“Like hell she is! Take me to her right now.”

“You must calm down,” Merrin said, cold and infuriatingly composed. “You will injure yourself.”

They hadn't known Bode was a Jedi, so they hadn't followed the cardinal rule for restraining one: never cuff just one hand. With a flick of his fingers, the cuff sprang open and Bode lurched forward off the bunk - and quickly found out that Merrin had been right. His body screamed at the sudden movement and Bode stumbled to his knees with an aborted gasp.

“Greez, fetch a sedative,” Merrin said dispassionately, and Bode panted at her feet. When Greez started towards the door, he flung a desperate hand out and seized hold of him with the Force. 

“Don't. You. Dare,” he ground out. He needed to see Kata, needed to know she was okay, and he wasn't about to let a three-armed Latero and a witch stand in his way.

Bode didn't realise he had him by the throat until Greez started choking. By then it was too late: Merrin's magick streaked towards him and wrapped itself around all four limbs, pinning Bode in place on the floor and breaking his hold over Greez.

“Stand down, traitor!” Merrin spat, composure breaking at last.

Bode fought against it, but fuck everything hurt, and his head was swimming. “Where is she?” he roared. 

“Papa?” 

Kata stood in the doorway, a fleecy blanket slung over her shoulders and a cup of something gently steaming in her hands. BD-1 peeked his head out from over her shoulder and gave a boo-woop of alarm.

Bode stopped struggling, and Merrin’s green fire fizzled away into nothing. Relief swelled up inside him at the sight of her: whole and healthy, her eyes blinking with sleepiness. “Hey sweetheart,” he croaked, but even without the restraints he couldn't find the energy to move. Kata put her mug down on the same table where Bode had dumped a pile of oily blaster rags only a few days ago - how had nothing changed but everything had changed? - and crossed over to him. 

“Papa, they're good people,” she said, kneeling down and taking his hands in her small ones. “I think we can trust them.”

“I know,” Bode forced out, tears in his eyes now. Greez straightened up with a cough, rubbing a hand to his neck. “I know they are. I’m sorry, sweetheart, I was just worried about you. This is - this is Cal's crew. His family.”

Kata nodded patiently. “Merrin and Greez rescued us -” she hesitated, “- from the fire. Do you remember?”

Bode remembered, and it made him shiver. The explosions, the burning ships, the death. The weight of a lightsaber in his hand, and the thrill of the dark side infusing him with a deadly focus he'd never known before. Oh, but the anger was still there, the frenetic fear that drove him to attack the very people who’d rescued him from the hell of Nova Garon - and underneath it all, a deep, quiet emptiness that lingered inside him like scattered ashes after a forest fire. He squeezed Kata's hands, and his voice broke when he tried to speak. “Are you hurt?” 

Kata glanced at Greez. “I'm okay. I was really hungry though, so Greez made me dinner.” She made a face. “It was better than anything we ate back home.”

Bode chuckled lightly because his ribs hurt too much for a proper laugh. The food offerings on Nova Garon had always been… less than stellar. “Well, did you remember to say thank you?”

Kata shook her head, then shyly turned to Greez. “Thank you, Mister Greez.”

“No, no.” Greez flapped a hand, but kept half a wary eye on Bode. His voice was strained and he had to clear his throat to carry on. “None of that here. You're a guest.”

“Thank you,” Bode repeated sincerely, hoping the apology was implied. Greez had always been soft with Cal, so it was no surprise that he was the same with Kata. What did come as a surprise was the realisation that Kata was right: he could trust Greez and Merrin, for all that they had every reason not to trust him. 

What must they think of him now? Last time they'd seen him, he'd been holding a blaster to Cordova's chest, and then they'd sailed into the chaos of Nova Garon to see Bode clinging half-conscious to Cal's broken body in the middle of the bloody massacre. They’d taken a chance by letting a known Imperial traitor back on board - cuff or not - and that was without the neck-squeezing stunt he’d just pulled on Greez. So, yeah, he probably owed them some kind of explanation. Not only for what he’d done at the Archive, but for everything that had happened since.

But first - “Cal,” Bode said urgently. “Is he-?” 

Merrin and Greez shared a look, and Bode knew immediately that it wasn't good news. “Cal has not yet woken up,” Merrin said. “He needs medical attention that we cannot give him aboard the Mantis.”

He should have known: if Cal were able to, he'd be in here, easily diffusing the tension between them and making Kata laugh. Bode had seen all too clearly how badly Cal was hurt, but Merrin's words still hit him like a mogu punch.

Bode started to stand and winced. “Take me to him. Please.”

“I am not sure that is wise,” Merrin said, and no, it wasn't, but Bode needed to see him.

Kata offered a hand, and Bode took it gratefully. He staggered to his feet then took a deep breath, adjusting to the pain. There was nothing lethal about his injuries, they just hurt like hell - and Bode knew better than to ask for anything to treat them when they probably needed everything they had on board for Cal. 

Cal was in the engine room, the workbench cleared and pulled into the centre of the walkway to act as a makeshift gurney. His head and wrists were dressed and bandaged, his leg neatly splinted, but he lay so still that Bode had to touch a hand to Cal’s chest to satisfy himself that he was still breathing. 

It was so difficult seeing him like this. Cal was spirit and light, quickfire grins and stubborn passion, his vibrancy fierce in the Force. Now he was diminished in every way, pallid and clammy to the touch. Bode could feel Merrin and Greez's eyes watching him, but he didn't have it in him to be anything other than honest about his feelings. Kata helped him to the stool at the side of the workbench and he gently placed his hand over Cal's, rubbing his thumb over Cal's wrist and fighting back tears.

He was alive, he was alive, he was alive. He would live. And Bode wasn't going to leave his side until he woke up.

No one spoke for a long time. There was nothing to say. The air swirled with sadness and worry, but not just Bode's. Now that he had opened himself up to the Force again - light and dark - he could feel the emotions of the others like they were tangible things. Greez was lingering only because he didn't want to be the first to walk away, and Merrin was stiff with a repressed anger that Bode was definitely going to have to face up to sooner or later. 

But it was Kata who broke the spell. She yawned loudly from where she was pressed against Bode's side and rubbed her eyes.

“Time for bed,” Bode said. With a flush of embarrassment, he looked to Greez for help.

“Okay, little lady,” Greez said. “Come on, I’ll get you all set up. We've still got a good few hours in hyperspace before we get to Pantora. I’ll put her in your cabin,” he added to Bode. “Set her up with some blankets, her little doll and a commlink if she needs anything.”

They shared a long look, then Bode nodded and said, “Thank you.”

Bode kissed Kata's cheeks and bid her good night and watched her leave with Greez and BD-1 in tow. He'd raised her not to trust strangers, so to see her totally comfortable with Greez was… well, it was a relief. Whatever the future held, maybe there was still a chance for her to be something other than a fugitive, always watching her back.

That left Bode alone with Merrin. “Pantora?” he asked. As Outer Rim metropolises went, it was a good choice: diverse, busy and more than likely to have a medcentre that wouldn’t ask awkward questions about a certain very recognisable redhead.

“Greez has a big mouth,” Merrin said with a scowl. She took a seat on the opposite side of the workbench. “I would prefer you to know as little as possible about where we are going.”

Bode sighed. That was only fair, he supposed. “You have questions.”

“Should we not?” Merrin's eyes bored into him, and Bode could swear that her irises were outlined with green fire. “You are a man of many contradictions, Bode Akuna. You claim to care about Cal, yet you left him to die in the desert. You are a Jedi, but you make your home on an Imperial base. You betrayed the Hidden Path, and yet here you are again, back aboard this ship.”

Her assessment made him wince. “I've done a lot of things I'm not proud of,” Bode admitted. It hurt to tell the truth, when there was so much comfort in lying. But this wasn't an ISB mission, where the lying was the whole point. There was no Denvik to report to anymore. The only person he was accountable to was himself. 

Merrin nodded down at Cal. “Do you blame yourself?”

Bode looked at Cal's face, the dark shadows under his eyes against skin that was paler than pale. “Cal only came to Nova Garon because of me. They only knew he was coming because of me. By the time I even knew he was there, the Imperials had been torturing him for hours.” He couldn't look at Merrin so he gazed down at Cal, memorising the bruises on his face, the traces of dried blood at the edges of the bandage. “Of course I blame myself.”

“Good. You should. Do not shy away from the choices you made. It will keep you from making more foolish ones in the future.”

Bode exhaled hard. “I couldn't leave him. Not again.”

Merrin leaned forward, just a little. “You betrayed us to the Empire, and then you betrayed your Imperial masters in return. It is not a favourable pattern. Where do your true loyalties lie, Bode Akuna?”

“I was never loyal to the Empire,” Bode objected, but even to his own ears it sounded like he was making excuses. “I did what I needed to survive.”

“Loyal to yourself, then. That is understandable given what you are, but it is not an attractive quality in an ally.”

“No, it's…” Lying was so much easier to keep track of: at least in a well-constructed lie he could edit out all the internal contradictions, the crossed wires of motivation and action. Bode had done what he'd needed to survive, but not because of pure self-preservation. “It was all for Kata, to protect her.”

Merrin fixed him with another penetrating gaze. “Do not use your daughter as a shield for your guilt. She will not thank you for it.”

Bode bristled; who gave Merrin the right to look at him like she could see directly into his soul? But his discomfort over her words only showed how close she was to the mark - perhaps he really was as transparent as Denvik had accused him of being. 

“Cal likes you,” Merrin continued. “Maybe even more than that. And it blinds him to your true nature. When he wakes, you will give him honesty, and only honesty. It will be up to you how much you choose to share with him, but I will not see him hurt. Do I make myself clear?”

For a second, Bode pictured having this conversation if he was fully healed, and with both his blasters and jetpack back. Then he very quickly aborted that line of thought and instead whipped off a half-hearted salute. “Yes, ma'am,” he muttered.

“The Archive burned because of you,” Merrin said, standing. “People are dead. Once it is broken, trust is not so easily regained. Remember that. And remember that you are not the only person here who cares about Cal.”

With a pop of green fire, Merrin vanished, leaving Bode to sigh heavily and run a hand over his face. For all the time they'd spent on the Mantis together, he wished he knew her better. Truth be told, he'd always been slightly scared of her and her unnerving abilities, and she'd never done anything in the slightest to discourage the feeling.

“You'd be pleased to know we're all getting along just fine,” Bode said to Cal, but the attempted smile fell away from his face when Cal just lay there silently, eyes closed, breathing low and shallow. With another long sigh, Bode put his arms and head on the workbench next to Cal and closed his eyes.

It was going to be a long journey to Pantora. 

—

Cal woke in a bacta tank. Air bubbles streamed from the breather in his mouth, and he thrashed in the lukewarm liquid, trying to find something to cling onto. His hands just slipped uselessly against the glass. 

He woke again on a medical trolley, its squeaky wheel piercing the depths of his unconsciousness. He tried to raise his head, but the tiniest movement sent him into a spiral of dizziness. “He's coming to,” someone said. A white glove pressed gently against his forehead. “Sedate him again.” And he fell into nightmare after nightmare of the interrogation droid sinking its needles into the skin of his neck.

The third time, Bode's face swam into view. Or, at least, he thought it was Bode. It looked like him, dark hair framing dark eyes, but he was speaking from so far away that Cal couldn't hear him. He tried to say Bode's name, but his tongue didn't seem to want to work and then he lost sight of him again.

Finally, he woke slowly.

Cal breathed deep, relishing the softness of the bed beneath him, the warmth of his own body heat nestled under thick blankets. He opened his eyes to see sterile white walls lined with medical equipment and thought, I don't know how I got here.

Gingerly he sat up, touching a hand to a sore spot on his head. The last thing he remembered was running to the ship - and then nothing but incoherent flashes. He reached instinctively for his lightsaber, but he wasn't even wearing his belt, just a loose medical gown that fell below his elbows and knees. BD-1 was once again nowhere to be seen and the absence of his familiar presence always made Cal anxious. This could be any medbay in the galaxy. A chill skittered over him. What if he was still on Nova Garon? What if they were nursing him back to health only so he could go back in the chair?

Cal threw off the blankets and was half-way to his feet when the door opened and a Pantoran medic walked in holding a small datapad. Not Imperial issue, and that was the only thing that stopped Cal bolting for the door. 

“Cal Kestis,” she said in surprise. “You're awake.”

Cal eyed her suspiciously. “Do I know you?”

“My name is Doctor Vano Hara. I'm with the Hidden Path.”

Oh, thank the Force. Though, honestly, he'd have taken Sorc Tormo’s personal medcentre on Ordo Eris over Nova Garon. He breathed out and rubbed his wrist; the skin there was fresh and pink, the cuts from the interrogation chair healed nicely, but they still twinged with phantom pain. “Where am I?” 

“You're at a Hidden Path safehouse on Pantora. You were brought in a week ago with blunt force trauma to the head, concussion, several internal injuries and a number of other superficial abrasions,” Vano said bluntly, checking her datapad. “Oh, and a displaced break in your left leg.”

Cal blinked slowly, taking his time processing her words. That was a long list of injuries he had absolutely no memory of getting. Bode's plan had been a good one: they'd been running for the ship, the Z-95 was in sight, they had a clear run. And then… and then… Kata had stopped. Did Cal remember Denvik being there somehow? Just trying to think about it made his head pound. 

“I was with others,” Cal said. “Bode and Kata Akuna, and BD-1. Are they here as well?”

“The big gentleman and the little girl with the droid?” Vano nodded to the chair at Cal's bedside. “He's rarely left your side. I'm sure they'll be back along shortly.”

That made Cal's stomach twist: after everything, Bode was still looking after him. It was such a relief that the others were okay that Cal didn't object when Vano manoeuvred him back into the bed, making him lie down again.

“You've made great progress,” she said, doing a quick scan with a medisensor, “but you still need rest.”

“I need to see them,” Cal insisted. 

Vano looked at him with something close to sympathy. “You're a fighter. It's the only reason you're still alive. For once, let them come to you.”

While Vano checked her scans, Cal examined himself. His head still felt tender, though there was no obvious wound that he could find with his fingertips. A quick shake of his leg didn't cause any pain, but there was some stiffness around the knee - damn it. Cal didn't have much patience for rehabilitation, and if there's one thing he'd learnt from getting stabbed in the gut by Darth Vader five years ago, it was that days of bed rest drove him as close to crazy as he’d ever been. 

Speaking of bed rest, just how long had he been stewing in this one? What he wouldn't give for a proper shower. Cal thought longingly about the bath at Pyloon's: hot with water from Greez's kitchen and fragrant with herbs that Pili had plucked from the gorge. He also tried not to think about the time Bode had accidentally walked in on him soaking his aches and pains away, and instead of apologising had teasingly asked if Cal needed his shoulders rubbed before BD-1 ushered him back out with a rush of indignant beeping.

“You bathe with your droid, Scrapper?” Bode had called to him across the bar once Cal was clean and dressed. “I’m sure you could find better company.” Cal had scoffed and downed his drink and fled back to the basement to avoid thinking about it further. Frankly it was embarrassing that it had taken until Bode kissed him for Cal to realise that he was flirting.

He looked up in anticipation as the door opened again - but it wasn't Bode who stepped through. 

“Merrin!” Cal cried. “Greez!” 

“Hah, he lives!” said Greez jubilantly, waving his arms. “Good to see you, kid!”

Greez crossed the room, but not as quickly as BD-1 who squealed and skittered over as fast as his little legs would take him. When he reached the bed, he launched himself the rest of the way and into Cal's waiting arms. 

“Hey, hey, leave some for the rest of us.” Greez engulfed Cal and BD-1 both in a huge, four-armed hug, and Cal clung to the hairy Latero like his life depended on it. There had been moments when he thought he might never see them all again, and the unexpected reunion made him choke out a disbelieving laugh.

“Gently,” Vano said, like a master scolding a young padawan, and Greez guiltily loosened his grip. She picked up her datapad and held it to her chest. “Cal continues to need rest. Please don't overexcite him if you can help it. I will leave you to reconnect.”

Merrin touched the medic's arm as she left. “Thank you, Vano Hara. For all of you've done.”

The door closed. Cal smiled and held his arms out to Merrin. She knelt and leaned gently into the hug, her familiar scent of hot sun and Dathomirian fire making him almost believe he was back home on the Mantis.

Greez took the chair by the bed, while Merrin perched at Cal's feet and BD-1 settled into Cal's lap. BD-1 looked good as new, like someone had painstakingly polished and oiled every part of him, but if Cal had to choose a word to describe the other two, he'd have to go with ‘strained’. Neither of them looked like they'd slept much, and that was probably his fault. “You're both okay?” he asked. 

“We're fine, kid,” Greez said breezily. “Can't ever complain about Hidden Path hospitality.”

“They have been very accommodating,” Merrin agreed. “I have visited this place before, and it helps that you have a reputation.” Cal ducked his head self-consciously. Being the face on all the Imperial holoboards had to have some perks, right? 

“Anyway, it’s not us you should be worried about. Cal, what the hell happened to you on that Imperial base?” Greez asked. 

There was so much to tell them, and not enough words to say it. Cal scratched BD-1's chin joint while he cast about for how to even start. When Cal had left the Mantis on Nova Garon, Bode was a traitor, and Greez and Merrin had expected Cal to hunt him down and force him to return the compass. Now… 

“Look, there are some things you need to know about Bode,” Cal said. “He's-” 

“A Jedi,” Merrin finished for him, and from her lips it sounded like an insult. “Yes. We know.”

“First thing he did when he woke up,” Greez said. “Grabbed me with your freaky Force stuff, right round the throat.”

Cal’s heart sank. “He attacked you?”

“Yeah, I mean.” Greez rubbed the back of his head with one hand. “He thought we were trying to use his kid against him, so it was fair play, I guess.”

“Yes, the man loves his daughter, but so do most beasts.” Merrin’s eyebrow twitched. “The question is, can we trust him? When we found you at Nova Garon, we took Bode aboard for his child's sake, and because it is clear you two care about each other. He has behaved well since then, but there are still things he is not telling us, and we cannot forget what he did to the Archive.”

“I wouldn't have escaped Nova Garon if it wasn't for him,” Cal protested. He couldn't imagine what he'd have done if Merrin and Greez had chosen to leave Bode behind, and the thought terrified him more than he'd like to admit. BD-1 sensed his distress and quietly nudged his hand. “I'd be dead or in the hands of the Inquisitorius. I know what he did on Jedha, but he more than made up for it on Nova Garon.”

“He is the reason your life was even in danger to begin with,” Merrin argued. “He himself admitted that it’s his fault the Empire captured you.”

“Cal, when we found you in that hangar, it was carnage.” Greez shook his head. “A fleet of ships on fire, a base's worth of stormtroopers massacred, and you half-dead on the floor. The only other people there alive were him and Kata, and Bode won't tell us what happened.”

Cal thought he could guess, and it made his blood run cold. Only by tapping into the dark side could Bode have gained access to that much power. Twice now, Bode had been desperate enough to take the plunge into that all-encompassing black hole, and both times had been to save Cal’s life. The first time, Cal had been there to talk him back down. The second time… 

“He lies by rote,” Merrin snapped. “He is impulsive, instinctively violent-”

“No different to you and me, then,” Cal said, sticking his chin out. Of course Merrin was angry - she loved the Hidden Path almost as much as Cere did - but she didn’t understand how much of himself Bode had sacrificed to get him and Kata out of Nova Garon. “Merrin, Kata was more than an Imperial prisoner, she was a hostage. Bode had to do anything they told him to, up to and including stealing the compass from us. Since when do we turn our backs on someone stuck under the thumb of the Empire?” He held Merrin's gaze. “Isn't he exactly the kind of person the Hidden Path is for?” 

“I fear it is not that simple.” At least this time Merrin sounded like she was trying to be sympathetic. “Your feelings for Bode put the Hidden Path in danger once already. I hope they do not a second time.”

“Wait, hold on.” Greez’s eyes went wide. “Feelings feelings?” 

Embarrassed, Cal looked away - so he was staring right at the door when Bode walked in. They locked eyes, and when Bode smiled it sent a slow warmth prickling from Cal's cheeks down the back of his neck. 

Yeah. Feelings feelings.

Chapter Text

“Why am I always the last to know everything?” Greez grumbled, looking from Cal to Bode, and Cal could only hope that Bode had absolutely no idea what he meant by that.

Bode cleared his throat. “Vano said you were awake. I came as soon as I heard.” He paused at the threshold of the room, and Cal didn't miss the look that flew like a dagger between Merrin and Bode.

Something was different about him. On the surface, Bode looked rough - bloodshot eyes that suggested he'd slept even less than Merrin or Greez, thin angles on his face that hadn’t been there before, and it looked like he hadn’t bothered to shave since Nova Garon. (If Cal eyed the thick stubble that was halfway to a beard and wondered what it would feel like to drag his fingers through it, well no one else needed to know that.) But the real change was in the Force: it pulsed in and through and around him, marking out the unique shape of him in braided swirls of light and shadow. He wasn’t hiding it anymore. For the first time, Cal was seeing the real Bode: not the mercenary, or the ISB agent, but the Jedi.

Cal beckoned Bode towards him. He wanted to touch him, to curl the fingers of his own Force powers around Bode’s and find out how they slotted together - until Bode took his first few hesitant steps into the room, and the dark side roared like the distant crash of ocean waves. It hung in orbit around him, and that, Cal realised, was why Bode was keeping his distance: because he didn't want Cal to feel it too.

Bode wasn’t the only one on edge. Greez watched Bode warily and Merrin’s eyes were full of warning - not towards Bode, but towards Cal. She wanted him to be careful, to dive into this slowly, if at all.

The tension in the room made him fidget. They’d have time to work out their individual issues later, but right now Cal knew he needed to talk to Bode or he would burst. He’d made his decision on Nova Garon, when he let Bode’s dark side tear through him then kissed him on the other side. “Guys, can we… Can you let me have a moment with Bode?” he asked, knowing neither of them would like it, but that they wouldn’t say no either. 

Greez slipped off the chair, always quicker than Merrin to know when Cal needed space. “Sure thing, kid. You too, BD, let's give them some privacy.” He waggled a finger towards Bode. “Tell Jetpack here that he’s not eating enough, because he sure as hell isn’t listening to me.”

Cal smiled fondly at the old nickname and looked at Merrin. She tilted her head and said, “Try to keep your focus, Jedi.” Then she rounded on Bode. “Remember what we spoke of. I will know if you lie.”

Bode nodded apprehensively, turning to watch Merrin and Greez, with BD-1 trailing reluctantly after them, as they left. Once the door closed, Bode didn't turn around again until Cal cleared his throat. 

“Come here,” Cal said, but Bode didn't move. 

“Cal-” he began, a word of warning that Cal ignored.

“I know what you did on Nova Garon. I know. Come here.” He held out his hand. “Please?”

Bode hesitated. He came forward, but just slipped into the chair at Cal's bedside, arms tight at his side. Even then he refused to look at Cal properly, dark eyes staring at the floor. “I thought you were dead.” Bode's voice was thick with emotion. “I thought Denvik had killed you and I-”

“I know.” Cal reached for him again, palm flat. “Show me.”

Bode exhaled hard and the Force moved with him, a burst of shadowy panic that Cal saw as much as felt. “You don't want me to do that.”

“I do. Trust me.”

Cal kept his hand out until Bode finally looked at him again. He wanted so badly to kiss the fear off his face, but it had to start with a touch, and it had to be Bode's decision. Cal's hand was an invitation, not a demand.

Bode breathed in, and for a moment Cal thought he'd say no. Then he hesitantly reached forward and touched his fingertips to Cal's.

The rush was instant. Overlapping layers of confusing emotions, buffeting around together in a screaming storm. The dark side, potent as ever, whipping up the guilt, the terror, the loss, into a freezing cold maelstrom that carved out sharp caverns of icy pain. It was so much stronger than last time. Cal was instantly overwhelmed, tears spilling down his face, but he clung to Bode's hand because he couldn't leave him alone in there. Bode carried the weight of every trooper on Nova Garon that he'd struck down in his murderous frenzy, their deaths feeding the darkness and helping it grow. 

But he'd done it to save Cal, to save Kata. Cal poured that knowledge into Bode. The dark side might have given Bode the strength to kill, but the motivation had come from a place of love and protection and it wasn't fair that it hurt so much.

The storm splintered. Bode shattered apart beneath him and Cal became aware that at some point he'd pulled Bode forward into a full embrace. Cal’s arms were wrapped around shaking shoulders as Bode sobbed into his chest, and Cal could taste every regret, count each horror that haunted Bode's nightmares. No wonder Cal had never been able to sense Bode in the Force before now, because Bode had needed to keep everything clamped deep underground to hide from the strength of his own despair. His journey to the dark side hadn't started on Nova Garon; Nova Garon was just the crack that finally let the darkness take control. It had started the day the Inquisitors killed his… oh his wife, and he'd learned that the true price of love was loss. 

For Bode, love and loss were inextricably linked. He couldn't look at Kata and not wonder who was going to try and take her away from him next. He stood amongst the easy camaraderie of the Mantis crew knowing that they could never be that way with him, because forgiveness and trust couldn't dislodge betrayal that ran so deep. He saw Cal and saw love he couldn't have, lies and devastating truths blocking the way. 

Again and again, love had led him only to fear. And, with a rush, Cal thought that maybe everything the Jedi had ever taught about the relationship between attachments and the dark side had been wrong, because the only thing that was going to lead Bode out of it was love too.

Cere's love for Trilla had brought the Inquisitor back from the edge of the pit before the end. And Cere had only felt comfortable reconnecting to the Force again because she had the love and support of the Mantis crew to pick her up when she fell. Now Cal would do the same for Bode, no matter how long it took, and no matter how much it cost him.

He held Bode as tightly as he could and let wave after wave crash over them both. Minutes and minutes and minutes more passed with Bode in Cal's arms, until the shake of Bode's body slowed to a tremble. 

“Cal,” Bode whispered, stricken. “I don't want it to hurt you.”

Cal brushed his lips against Bode's forehead. That was the final, horrible trick that the dark side played: it made you think you had to face it alone. For years, Bode had been hiding it from Kata, then from Cal, drowning in the loneliness of holding the line in a battle no one else knew he was fighting. Another thing the Jedi had done wrong: making the struggle something to be ashamed of rather than a collective burden to share. 

“I'll face it with you,” Cal said. “You and me.”

Bode's breath came in shudders. “Usually I can hold it all back. But now I… I can't put it back in.”

“Don't then. Let it out,” Cal said and leaned down to kiss him. A quick, soft touch of lips: another invitation. 

Bode stilled, and Cal opened his eyes to Bode looking up at him through unfairly beautiful eyelashes laced with crystal tears, expression frozen in surprise. Then Bode's eyes squeezed shut and he closed the last tiny distance between them and kissed back with an urgency that bordered on desperate. 

Bode opened up beneath him, warm and solid. He pulled Cal down to force his mouth open, and the touch of Bode's tongue on his made Cal dizzy again. Cal cradled Bode against his chest, his fingers finding the curl of dark hair at the back of Bode's neck and his lips tasting the saltiness of his tears. The whipping wind of the darkness was quickly overtaken by the blood roaring in Cal's ears. This was everything he wanted: Bode safe and secure and with him, their lips crashing together with matching need. 

Kissing someone in the Force was a different kind of magic. Cal had got a small taste of it with Merrin, when the white hot sparks of her fire ignited inside him as she'd kissed him at the temple. But Bode was a Jedi and being inside each other's mouths only made the connection stronger. Cal was Bode, and Bode was Cal, twined together in body and being, the Force knitting the fabric of their souls together as one. The darkness might have been the strongest part of him right now, but there was so much more to Bode than that. The storm clouds were chequered with glittering pillars of sunshine: joy and desire and love that thrived against the odds because they were the core of who Bode truly was. In those pockets of light, Cal and Bode were making something beautiful. 

Bode crawled fully onto the bed, his knees bracketing Cal's thighs, blankets discarded. Cal tilted his head back, and Bode's hands cupped Cal’s cheeks like he was holding something precious. Bode's lips dragged over Cal's own, then his jaw, then trailed open-mouthed down his neck, and Cal gasped when rough stubble tickled sensitive skin.

“You're going to have to keep this,” Cal murmured, running his fingers through the almost-beard on Bode's chin.

“Anything you say,” Bode breathed, scraping Cal's collarbone with his teeth and sending shivers running down his spine. “Ask and it's yours.”

Cal moaned in response, hands tightening on Bode's nape as Bode moved to nip Cal's earlobe, then the sensitive skin behind his ear. “If the door was locked, I would.”

With a sly glance at the door, Bode shoved Cal down onto the pillow. Cal landed with a thump that pushed the air out of his lungs, and before he could catch his breath, Bode dove in to capture his lips again. The warm weight of Bode's body against his made him see stars, but it also sent pain searing through his leg and Cal tried to breathe but couldn't. 

“Wait,” he gasped. His hands scrambled onto Bode's chest and pressed against it. Bode pulled back and Cal took a deep breath, then paused to appreciate Bode's mussed hair and kiss-bitten lips.

“Too much?” Bode asked, but he looked more smug than sorry. 

Cal started laughing and couldn't stop. He was already panting from Bode's non-stop attention and now his breath came out in shaky, semi-hysterical gasps. Bode sat back, crossed his arms and scowled at him, but when Cal kept laughing, Bode couldn't resist his own smile.

“Sorry,” Cal said, wiping away tears. He giggled again. “I'm so fucking happy right now, but I just… I just remembered that Vano told me not to overexert myself and well… oops, I guess?”

Bode laughed back, smoothing a hand over Cal's hair. Cal leaned into it, hiding a tiny wince; as incredible as the last few minutes had been, his leg ached and his head hurt and… yeah, maybe a passionate makeout session wasn't exactly what the doctor ordered so soon after regaining consciousness.

“If you want me to leave-” Bode started. 

“Don't you dare!” It was only a joke, but Cal closed a hand around Bode’s forearm anyway, just in case. “Stay. Please.”

Bode smiled again at that. He nudged Cal to the side, kicked off his shoes and wriggled in next to him. They only fit on the tiny medbay bed if Bode lifted an arm up to let Cal curl into his shoulder, and that gave Cal the excuse to rest a hand on Bode's chest and listen to the sound of their heart rates gradually come down. For a long time, they lay quietly together, until their breathing aligned and Cal could count the seconds between inhales and exhales.

—

Bode closed his eyes, and the gentle rise and fall of Cal's chest moved alongside his. He’d barely allowed himself to wish for such a moment, let alone imagine it, and it was still difficult to believe that the Cal who lay in his arms was real. This moment was fragile, and maybe it wouldn't last beyond the fleeting, glorious present, but Bode was determined to commit every last detail of it to memory. The gentle puff of hot air on Bode's arm each time Cal breathed out, the brush of Cal's soft hair tucked under his chin. Even the crinkle of Cal's papery medical gown was a reminder of everything they'd paid to be here in this room, as safe as two Jedi in an increasingly hostile galaxy could be.

And the Force, too, now that it wouldn't go back into the neat little box Bode had constructed for it - that and all the other inconvenient truths he'd been hiding for so long that he'd almost forgotten to be ashamed of them. The Force swirled around them both, and he couldn't help but relish the hot metal of Cal's aura, the steely grit of Cal's determination to stand directly in the path of Bode's bottomless darkness and smother it with… well, with what Bode could only describe as love.

But he hadn't earned that word yet, not from Cal. So Bode nuzzled into Cal's temple to inhale the coppery scent there, and said, “I don't deserve you, Scrapper.”

Cal shifted, opened drowsy eyes to gaze at Bode. With the Force still braiding them together, maybe Cal actually could see into his soul. “It’s not about deserving,” Cal muttered, still a little sleepy. “I just want you. You. However you come.”

Bode had to look away, because Cal still didn’t know what he was saying. How could he? Cal didn’t truly know the atrocities Bode had committed, the names of the people he’d killed, the way their ghosts haunted the backs of his eyelids. Merrin’s threats rang true in his ears, but what a paradox Bode faced: he couldn’t truly be with Cal until he’d told him everything, and when he did he would lose him. 

His whole being rebelled at the idea. He had Cal in his arms, so why not keep him there? He wouldn’t even need to lie; he could just ‘confess’ a version of the guilt, the desperation, the threats, in the way he had on a thousand missions before. But Bode would know (and maybe Merrin would know too), and the secrets would still fill his chest with poison. Cal deserved the truth, if only for everything Bode had put him through.

With Cal lying half across him, it was impossible to hide the sudden acceleration of his heartbeat, and his nerves surely bled through in the Force. But Cal - sweet, patient, selfless Cal - said nothing, just waited for him to gather up the courage.

“Cal,” Bode forced out. “We need to talk about the compass.”

Cal didn't reply straight away, just took his time tracing a hand along the contours of Bode's chest. Maybe he’d thought Bode was about to say something else. The feeling of Cal's fingers through the fabric of his shirt was deliciously distracting, but he couldn't have it both ways. His hand clamped down on top of Cal's smaller one, stopping the movement. If he didn't confess this now, he never would.

“The compass,” Bode repeated.

“It doesn't matter.” Cal crinkled the freckles on his nose. “The Empire has it now. We lost Tanalorr but we both survived and–” 

Bode shook his head. Cal didn't get it, he still didn't get it. “No one has the compass. It was on my ship when it blew up.”

“Why was it…?” Cal frowned. “Didn't you give it to Denvik?”

There it was. Bode watched the realisation dawn on Cal's face in real time. The irony was that, at the time, Bode had told Cal the truth. He'd snatched the compass from Cordova's hands and called an army to distract everyone else at the Archive not because the Empire had forced him to, but because he’d chosen Kata’s safety over his budding feelings for Cal. At the time it had made sense: Cal would survive, they’d both move on and Kata would be safe. If the compass wasn’t lying in a million pieces in the remnants of Nova’s Garon’s hangar, it would still be true that giving Tanalorr to the Hidden Path would have put his little girl at risk.

Cal pushed himself up onto one arm, other hand still resting on Bode's chest, and searched his eyes. “What are you trying to say?” he asked. 

“My mission objective was never to secure Tanalorr. I never even told Denvik that it existed. You don't have anyone to blame for the attack on the Archive except me.”

Cal sighed, long and weary. “Bode, I can't hold it against you that you wanted to protect Kata. What happened on Jedha happened. I've already forgiven you.”

“You forgive me?” Bode barked out a bitter laugh. “You don't know half of what I've done.”

“Then tell me.” Cal eyes were defiant as he held Bode's gaze, still trying to see the light in him despite all evidence to the contrary. That same desire to believe the best in people, that naivety, was what had made Cal so easy to deceive in the first place. It hadn't technically been Bode's fault that the Ninth Sister had killed the rest of his crew on Coruscant, but if Cal had a single suspicious bone in his body he should have known something was wrong, right from the very beginning.

“Whatever you think I've done,” Bode said, “I can promise you it's worse.”

“Denvik had Kata as a damn hostage,” Cal snapped, prodding an emphatic finger into Bode's shoulder like that should end the whole argument. “Whatever he made you do isn't your fault.” There it was again: that righteous anger that made Cal burn in the Force. Cal had this… this image of Bode in his head that was all victim and good intentions. Some pure-hearted noble knight forced into a bad situation beyond his control. That wasn’t Bode, it had never been Bode.

The only thing Cal’s blazing faith did was make him want to scream.

“Oh fuck off, Cal,” Bode scoffed. “Let's both stop pretending I was a victim in all this. Denvik didn't coerce me into working for him, I begged him to cut me a deal.”

“Because of the Inquisitors. Because you didn't have a choice.” 

“No, I had a choice.” Forget Cal hating him, if Cal couldn't even see Bode for who he really was then what was the point? “I could have hidden. I could have fought. Instead I sold mine and my daughter's lives to a psychopath for the slightest chance of safety. I knew Denvik would ask me to compromise every part of myself, knew I wouldn’t be able to say no to anything he asked because he'd have Kata as leverage. But I did it anyway.”

Cal’s face was still maddeningly sympathetic. “No one makes that decision if they think they have a choice.”

“No, no one makes that decision if they make good decisions,” Bode snapped. 

Cal leaned forward, pressed himself against Bode’s shoulder, and tucked his face into the crook of Bode's neck. “You're free now,” Cal said, the words ghosting across Bode's skin in a way that should have felt nice, but just made his skin crawl. “You and Kata. You don’t belong to him anymore.”

Suddenly it was too much. Bode shoved Cal off him, then swung his legs over the side of the bed and stood. “I don’t need your fucking pity, Cal,” he growled. No, not pity. Bode wanted anger, wanted rage. Cal should be furious with Bode - he knew he had it in him because Bode had seen it before, white hot and unstoppable. What was it going to take? “Denvik might be dead, but I’ll never be free of what I did there. Did you think it was all frolicking around the galaxy with red-haired terrorists, making new friends at Latero-owned cantinas? He turned me into a fucking assassin.”

Finally, finally, Cal went silent. Bode wanted to punch something, but he settled for turning away from Cal, and squeezing his fists until his nails dug into his palms. He’d never said the word aloud before because this, more than anything, was what kept him up at night. 

The first time that Bode had been given another Jedi as a mark, Denvik had acted like it was just a normal mission. It was only when Bode had read the briefing document later that he realised what Denvik was asking him to do: to dig up the past and choose to leave it behind again and again and again. For Kata, he did. And when Denvik decided he had all the intel he needed and sent through the kill order, Bode had only been able to go through with it by seeing his actions as mercy. Better shot in the back of the head by someone you thought you could trust than a slow, torturous unmaking at the hands of Inquisitors.

“He sent me after Jedi,” Bode said, eyes closed. “And I killed them.”

The room was cold. When Bode risked a glance at Cal, he had a hand over his mouth, body trembling. He could feel Cal's grief through the Force, grief that Bode had never let himself feel, because if he did it would be impossible to keep going. 

“How many?” Cal whispered, so quietly Bode could barely hear him.

“Four.”

“How?”

Just like the clones had: with a blaster and the element of surprise. Bode said, “Quickly. Painlessly.” Without a shred of the dignity they deserved.

“I don't… I…” Cal’s breath hitched, nearing tears. Because, of course, all Cal had wanted was to find others like him, to not feel so alone in a galaxy that despised his very existence. Bode had hunted down those rare opportunities and, one by one, taken them off the board. “Were you… were you supposed to kill me?”

“I don’t know. I never knew, until the moment Denvik gave the order.” Bode’s mouth twisted into a sneer before it could give away his anguish. Because killing Cal had to have been the endgame, right? Denvik would have, one day, given him the order. Could he have done it? Looked into Cal's grass-green eyes and watched the light fade from them? Pushed that fiery hair back from a cold, frozen face?

Now he was shaking too, hands needing to find something to hang onto, but the only thing in the room was Cal and he didn't deserve–

The mattress squeaked; Cal sat on the edge of the bed, staring up at Bode with tears bright on his cheeks. Bode had seen Cal cry before, but not like this. Not with such a lost expression on his face, making him look so young like – Well, Bode could only imagine that's what his own face looked like during the Purge, at that quiet realisation that he was betrayed, hunted, and alone. 

Suddenly Bode regretted saying anything. He'd needed Cal to know the truth, but not like this, not at this cost. Cal had been through enough, and if Bode had been kind he'd have left Cal and Kata alike under Greez and Merrin's care and disappeared out of all of their lives forever. He blinked, and tears were falling from his eyes now too, and he couldn't do anything but sink to his knees by the bed and beg for forgiveness he didn't deserve. 

“I'm sorry,” he said, the words numbed by the realisation that he'd never properly apologised before, not for anything he'd done. “I'm so sorry, Cal.”

—

Cal heard Bode's apology and hated it. Hated that Bode had ever been put in a position where he had to choose between Kata's life and the life of another Jedi's. Hated the guilt that tailed Bode like a shadow. Hated so hard that the wispy tendrils of Bode's darkness turned to look at Cal next, eyeing his weakness. 

Was that the price? If you didn't have love, then the dark side had no hold over you, but if he didn't have love Cal wouldn't have the Mantis crew. Cere, his mentor, teacher and protector. Greez, always looking out for him, making sure that everyone was okay. Merrin, fierce in her principles as much as in battle. BD-1, the most loyal droid anyone could ask for, who never gave up on him even when he'd given up on himself. And now Bode: always watching his back, ready to catch him if he fell.

One time he'd asked Cere whether the connections they both had to each other and the Mantis crew put them in danger of falling to the dark side, and Cere's answer had been, “I don't know, but I don't know how not to care.” At the time, he'd been frustrated at her vagueness, a cop-out answer to a serious question that undermined his belated attempts to learn the Jedi teachings he'd been denied by the Purge. Maybe now he understood what she was trying to say: it was a risk, but it was worth it. 

There is only the Force. Light and dark, two sides of the same whole. Discipline, control, stoicism. Emotion, freedom, passion. Cal took a deep breath and centred himself in that power, drawing the grief out and… not letting it go, but letting it rest. Putting it aside, just for a moment, so he could slow his own tears and close his eyes. He would return to it later when he had time and space, when Bode wasn't a wreck at his feet, needing help that Cal didn't know how to give.

He'd misunderstood. No pretty platitudes would touch the depths of Bode's despair. He wasn't ready to hear Cal's words of comfort or receive his soft, reassuring touches. This was deeper than any of that. Healing would come only with time, with safety, with the firm knowledge that he was accepted just as he was. 

“Listen to me.” Cal’s voice was low and steady, his throat husky with the effort of holding back more tears. “I can't make any of this right, or make any of it go away. But you've told me. And I'm still here.”

Bode brought his hands to his knees, curled them into fists. “Why?” The question was desperate, spoken like a sob. “Scream in my face, hit me, make me go away. Anything.”

“Would that help?” 

“You’ve felt the darkness, you know what I’ve done. You shouldn't want me anywhere near you.”

Cal had to laugh, though it hurt his throat. “My best friend is a witch who uses the dark side to turn dead bodies into weapons. My master turned to the dark side when the Inquisitors tortured her, and used it again to save my life from Vader. Right now, I want to murder everyone in the galaxy who's ever hurt you, in ways that should never see the light of the Force. You think you're broken? Look around.”

“That's not the same.”

“No?” Cal slid off the bed and onto the floor next to Bode. His leg protested, and he had to twist to stop a sharp hiss of pain, but he got where he wanted: his knees and Bode's, just about touching. “Do I look like a paragon of Jedi virtue to you? I’ve killed and killed in service of fighting the Empire, and enjoyed far too much of it. Does the ISB keep records of how many stormtroopers I've killed in the last five years? Is it hundreds? Thousands?”

Something was working. Bode looked lost and a little confused, but it was a million times better than agonising defeat.

“One time Cere and I tried to redeem a damn Inquisitor, and you think you're beyond saving?”

“There's nothing in me worth saving,” Bode burst out.

“You're wrong,” Cal breathed. “So, so wrong. If you're determined not to see, let me show you.”

Cal held out his hand. Bode looked at Cal, trusted him, and took it. This time, Cal was ready for the darkness. He fought it back before it could get a foothold, boiling the storm clouds away with the fire of his own determination. Where the sunlight splintered down, Cal threw those patchwork pockets of light into the forefront of Bode's awareness. His fierce love for Kata, unparalleled. The way he'd fought for Cal at Nova Garon, no matter the cost to himself. The sparks Cal felt every time he knew Bode was looking out for him. The strength it took for Bode to choose to bare his soul to Cal, knowing the darkness was there waiting to pounce, and still doing it every time Cal asked. 

He showed Bode what he looked like through Cal's eyes: broken, yes, but beyond everything that had been done to him, beyond everything he'd done, there was light. Beauty. Joy. Love. The darkness lurked, deep and seductive, calling Bode to jump headlong over that cliff into his own despair, but it wasn't stronger or brighter or more compelling than those little embers of hope that glowed at Bode's core.

Cal opened his eyes. Bode's eyelashes fluttered as he cried silently, hand clamped around Cal's. 

“Look at you,” Cal said, wiping the tears from Bode's cheeks. “Not as heartless as you think you are.”

Chapter Text

Cal was fucking exhausted. Every time he closed his eyes, new horrors rose from the depths. Thoughts of Bode were overlaid by intrusive what-ifs about blasters to the back of the head, Jedi killed in their sleep, betrayals a thousand times worse than what had happened on Jedha. When he slept, he couldn't escape the restraints of the interrogation chair, Denvik's oil-smooth voice taunting him even in death. BD-1 stayed by his side every night, always there when Cal inevitably flew upright with his skin drenched in sweat, soothing him with a concerned boop and a steadying presence.

He'd been here before. The early days on Bracca had been a similar haze of nightmares and flashbacks; days of empty wandering, of jumping at every tiny sound or movement. Before he even knew what Inquisitors were, he saw the Empire in the faces of every helmeted scrapper, heard Jaro Tapal's voice in the roar of collapsing starships. His solution had always been to throw himself into the world so hard he didn’t have time to think: processing whatever parts he could get his hands on, scaling ships the size of asteroids, fighting guild members twice his height with his skinny thirteen-year-old self’s clumsy first attempts at unarmed combat. He'd kept doing that, even once he'd left the scrapheap behind. With the Mantis crew or Saw Gerera or on his own, he had never stopped. Always on the move, always running forward, never looking back.

Now, though, he wasn’t going anywhere. A full three days after waking up, he was still consigned to the medbay, barely able to walk and just about losing his mind. Each morning Doctor Vano marched into his room after he’d woken up and refreshed himself, ready to administer the day’s torture. She was both a comfort and a terror, encouraging him to take short walks around the perimeter of the room to get his leg used to the movement again.

“Good morning, Cal. Are you ready for your exercises?”

Cal winced. “Maybe I can try leaving the room this time?”

“Not until I'm satisfied that you can make it back without help,” Vano said sharply, used to batting away Cal’s half-hearted pleas to make his rehabilitation go faster.

With a sigh, Cal hobbled to his feet. His muscles were weak: the stiffness around the knee turned into stabbing pain after only a few laps of the tiny little room. Too soon he had to sink back onto the bed with a pounding head and a dry mouth.

“How much longer?” he asked, hating how breathless he sounded. Hating everything about this pokey little prison he was confined to.

“It will take time, and you will make a full recovery,” Vano reassured him, and Cal had to remind himself that she only had his best interests in mind. “But you have to go slowly - frequently but gently. Rest your mind but exercise your leg, got it?”

Cal nodded obediently, but he hated it. Once Vano left him alone again, Cal thought that telling him to ‘rest his mind’ was easier said than done. His mind overflowed, and he could do nothing but sit there. How was he supposed to do anything but stew in the succession of painful revelations from the past few days? Especially the knowledge that Bode had murdered Jedi, ones that Cal had spent his entire adult life desperate to find. The deeper, less noble part of him lingered on Bode's other revelation: that he might one day have been forced to choose between Cal's life and Kata's life. Cal knew exactly who Bode would and should choose, but that didn't make it hurt any less.

He rolled over with a groan, massaging his burning eyes. The longer he sat on that thin medical bed, the darker his thoughts became. If Cal didn't get out of here soon, he was going to start screaming and never stop. If he'd realistically thought he could make it that far on his injured leg, he'd have made a break for fresh air days ago. Normally he could rely on Cere to pull him out of this kind of spiral, but she wasn't here to ground him or help him seek refuge in the Force. He couldn't even meditate properly because kneeling was plain impossible.

A knock on the door forced Cal to pull himself together. He cleared his throat, sat up straight, and even managed to have a smile plastered onto his face by the time the door hissed open.

“There he is!” crowed Greez, making Cal's forced smile soften into something more genuine. “How're you doing, Cal?” 

Merrin followed behind him. “Still in bed, Cal Kestis? The sedentary life seems to suit you.”

Cal made a face; she knew all too well how much he hated sitting still. “I think Vano must be punishing me for something.”

“You must have patience,” Merrin said. “Even you cannot heal all your injuries overnight.”

Cal groaned. “Please tell me you have news of the outside world before I die of boredom.”

Merrin and Greez had both thrown themselves into life at the safehouse in a way that drove Cal crazy with envy. Merrin had recruited this cell to the Hidden Path herself a year or two ago; the Pantorans liked to play loyal in the Senate, but had been operating their own programmes of resistance under the surface for years now. She was helping to refine their encryption codes - a long and tedious task that only someone like Merrin could possibly enjoy, though Cal would gladly have taken it at this point. Greez, meanwhile, had taken it upon himself to make the safehouse as homely as possible for the lost souls the Hidden Path channelled through here using his favourite love language: food.

“Well, it might not be interesting for you, but the new plants I ordered came in from the city,” Greez said, taking the seat by the bed. He'd taken one look at the Pantorans’ kitchen garden when he first arrived and declared the lack of spices ‘a culinary scandal waiting to happen’. “These guys might be refugees, but they still deserve good food. Just wait until you taste what I'm planning for tonight.”

“I'm sure it'll be great,” Cal said sincerely. 

“He will not tell you himself, but Greez has a new shadow,” Merrin told him. “Kata Akuna has shown a great interest in his work in the garden.”

“Yeah, the kid's pretty tolerable,” Greez admitted, rubbing the back of his head like Cal didn't know he was a pushover when it came to children. “Great spirit, great potential. Shame about her dad though.”

“Is Bode around?” Cal asked, trying not to let the pathetic neediness he felt sound too obvious. 

“I don't know how you can stand to be near that man, after what he's done,” Greez complained. “Some Jedi.” 

“There's still good in him,” Cal insisted, not for the first time. He'd already told them everything, of course: come clean about the kiss on the clifftops, what Bode had done on Nova Garon, and how he'd given himself willingly to the darkness to make sure they all got out alive. Despite Cal's insistence that Bode's actions on Nova Garon should at least in part redeem his actions on Jedha, Greez and Merrin were no closer to forgiving him, nor understanding what Cal saw in him. 

“Murdering your own kind is abhorrent,” Merrin agreed. “He is no Jedi, not anymore.”

Cal hid a grimace. They were both right, of course: Bode had done terrible things. But Cal had intimately sensed Bode's guilt and regret and knew he could be better than his past. “He isn’t lost, not yet. He’s a good person, in his core. I felt it.” It wasn’t the only thing he felt. What he hadn't told them was that, despite Bode's revelations about his past, Cal’s heart still beat faster every time Bode came into the room, and it killed him a little inside every time Bode left again without a smile or a touch.

Greez shook his head sadly. “Even if that's true, good people still do bad things, kid.”

“Yeah. They do. And the best ones keep trying until they get it right,” Cal argued.

“Cal–”

“Have you spoken to Cere again?” Cal asked before Greez could give him another cautionary tale about fucking pattern recognition or something.

Merrin shook her head. “It is too risky to send a message from here. We must wait until we return to hyperspace.”

Cal’s frown deepened. He needed to talk to Cere; she would understand what he was going through where Merrin and Greez couldn't. Because the darkness whispered to Cal too. It told him that Bode might have killed four Jedi, but Cal was working on his own numbers too. He’d run Dagan Gera through when he’d refused to surrender the compass, and helped Merrin trap Taran Malicos deep beneath the earth on Dathomir. On Coruscant, he’d decapitated Masana Tide for the crime of being warped against her will into the Ninth Sister, and Trilla – he was responsible for her death too. Darth Vader might have been the one who’d struck the killing blow, but it was Cal who had defeated, disarmed and exposed her deep in the heart of the fortress.

Dagan. Taran. Masana. Trilla. All four of them were Jedi who'd turned to the dark side, and he'd killed them all in self-defence - but those were just excuses, in the end. Either way, they were dead, and wouldn't have been if Cal hadn't been there. He needed there to be hope for Bode not only because of the strength of his feelings, but also to reassure himself that there was hope for him too.

But that would have to wait. They wouldn't be returning to hyperspace until Cal could at least half-walk without agonising pain. 

“Anyway, this is a flying visit for me,” Greez said, standing up again. He clapped Cal on the back as he did so, a wordless reminder that, despite their disagreements over Bode, things were still good between them.  “Things to do.”

“Yeah, yeah, rub it in,” Cal muttered. 

“I will stay a while longer,” Merrin said and Cal smiled at her gratefully. He knew he wasn't the best company at the moment, but everything was easier when he wasn't alone. 

As Greez closed the door, Cal blew out a long breath, rubbing his knee through the blanket as if he could force it better through sheer strength of will.

“Did Vano tell you how long it would take?” Merrin asked. 

“‘Slowly’,” Cal quoted, the thought of doing another lap around the room making him groan.

“You must have patience,” Merrin said again, and Cal scowled at her because he knew she was talking about everything: his leg, Cere, Bode, his long, endless fight against the Empire. Impatience easily topped the list of Cal's many weaknesses. 

“You think I should cut Bode out,” Cal said, unable to keep the note of accusation out of his voice. “But we've all done terrible things - you, me, Cere. Why should it be any different for him?”

Merrin held his gaze with fiery steel. “I have not told you that, not even once. I know you still care for him, despite what he has done.”

“And doesn’t that make you angry at me?” Cal asked desperately. “Is my judgement so terrible?”

“Hearts are fickle things, and we do not always control them,” Merrin said, dry amusement ticking up the corners of her lips.

Cal scowled again, unsure if that was absolution or accusation. “Can’t you just trust him because I trust him?”

“He brought you back from Nova Garon. He kept you alive. I trust in the strength of your feelings for him, and his for you. But for me? For the Hidden Path? That trust he has yet to earn.”

Cal swallowed hard. Feelings, right. “We never talked,” he said, “about you and me, and what… what happened at the temple on Jedha.”

The smile she gave him was so fond that it made something ache in his chest. “You were not mine to lose, Cal Kestis. The love we have for each other is no less than it was before.”

“I know you don't like Bode, but–” 

“You do not need my approval to fall in love with someone else.”

“I–” Sometimes Cal thought Merrin must be able to read him through the Force, but she always denied that she had that ability. It shouldn't surprise him to hear the word; what else had he been experiencing for Bode if not falling in love? But it made him feel strange, because after that last heartrending conversation with Bode, they'd barely spoken. “Am I crazy to want this?” 

Merrin rested her chin on top of Cal's head, and he leaned into the embrace gratefully. “If there is one thing I have learned on my travels, it is that an open heart and mind can overcome many adversities. But it is not enough to simply want it. You must both work for it.”

“I know,” Cal whispered. “I’m trying.”

“It is not you who worries me. Look at how he is treating you.”

Cal pressed his cheek into Merrin’s shoulder. Ever since their last conversation when Bode had confessed everything, Bode had just… withdrawn. It hurt far more than Cal wanted to admit. “I just need to– to get him alone. Get him to talk to me again.”

Merrin’s lips pursed. “Do not judge someone on their intentions, Cal Kestis. Only on their actions.”

Right on cue, there was a knock at the door and Merrin pulled away. Cal's heart jumped when the door hissed open to reveal Bode, who looked weary but didn't meet Cal's eye. Kata was with him, and BD-1 who was perched on her shoulder. Kata bounced into the room and threw her arms around Cal.

“Cal, Cal, I made a new friend today!” 

“Did you now?” Cal laughed, hugging her back while BD-1 trilled his own greeting. Kata was obviously flourishing now that she'd left the isolation of Nova Garon behind, and BD-1 had taken it upon himself to protect her while she explored all the areas of the safehouse that Cal couldn't. These days she never stopped smiling and someone - maybe Bode - had tied a little green ribbon into her hair. Cal attempted a smile at Bode, but he just leaned against the back wall and looked at Kata. 

“Sweetheart, don't be rude. Ask Cal how he is first.”

“Oh. How is your leg today?” 

“Well, uh,” Cal said, trying to ignore the sinking feeling in his chest, “earlier today I managed three loops around the room.”

“That's great!” Kata said, patting him on the arm in a way Cal was sure BD-1 had taught her. “That's one whole more than yesterday!”

Cal could feel Merrin glaring at Bode over Kata's head. By now, this was a familiar dance. Cal had tried to get Bode to look at him, speak to him, anything - but Bode wasn’t biting. He brought Kata in to see him, then stood at the back and listened, there but not present. It was breaking Cal’s heart.

Something moved in the Force, like Bode was reaching out for him, but as soon as Cal turned his attention to it, it was gone. He shook himself, tuning back into Kata’s story about her new friend. Maybe it was just wishful thinking, a memory of something lost. He wanted to wrap his arms around Bode’s shoulders, pull him close, murmur reassurances into his ear - but he didn't want to push it, especially not in front of Kata, because the other half of him was simply too tired to rip more bandages off the wounds they'd opened together.

—

Five days of patient, gentle medbay laps later, Vano judged Cal to be strong enough to be fitted with a knee brace that allowed him to leave the room. Walking was slow and clunky, but it was mostly pain-free and Cal was determined to use his newfound freedom to its full extent. 

“Don't go far,” Vano warned. “You don't want more people than necessary seeing your face, even within the Hidden Path.”

‘Far’ was a relative concept: the safehouse was nicely compact, and despite his craving for new scenery, Cal wasn't stupid enough to go out into the stormtrooper-patrolled urban streets that surrounded it. It was built around an open-air landing pad that normally had enough room for several ships, but was currently taken up almost in its entirety by the body and tucked fin of the Mantis. The circular buildings that surrounded it were all self-contained, with the low, flat roofs typical of the local Pantoran style: medical wing, living quarters, armoury, an advanced suite of communication arrays with a workshop somewhere that Cal was interested in finding.

Cal went to the Mantis first, BD-1 balancing on his shoulders, and Cal didn’t mind the extra weight because it felt so wonderfully normal. He hauled himself up the ramp and peered inside. Merrin was running errands in the city and Greez was busy cooking, so right now, Cal had the Mantis to himself. 

He glanced once at the empty cockpit, dim but for the smattering of pinprick lights across the control panel. “What do you think, buddy, shall we take her for a spin?” he asked, then laughed as BD-1 let loose a string of furious binary. “It was a joke, I swear! I don’t need Greez trying to kill me as well as the Empire.”

BD-1 gave an emphatic boop before jumping off Cal's back and clattering up onto the seats surrounding the holotable.

“Yeah, yeah,” Cal replied distractedly. He sat down next to BD-1, stretching out his leg and staring at the red-and-white sphere on the holomap that was Pantora. “Long way from home, huh?”

When BD-1 beeped a question about where, exactly, home was these days, Cal could only shrug. The Mantis hadn't felt like home ever since the crew had split up, and as much as Koboh had felt homely for a while, Cal was pretty sure they couldn't return. Thanks to Bode, the ISB knew all about their cosy little setup at Pyloon’s, and even if Denvik's death meant no one was paying attention to those particular leads right now, a return visit would put everyone in Rambler’s Reach at risk. No more little basement bedroom, or breezy rooftop garden, or stealing glances at Bode from across the bar. 

Where did that leave Cal? On the move, as usual - always running forward, never looking back.

Cal clapped his hands on his cheeks a couple of times. Getting out and about was supposed to stop the spiralling thoughts, not give him new ones.“Want a once over?” he asked BD-1, getting back to his feet. BD-1 didn't need a clean, not really. The safehouse was free from the type of dirt and grime that usually blocked up BD-1's servos, but it would be good for Cal to do something with his hands.

BD-1 made an enthusiastic noise and scuttled towards the engine room. Cal followed at a much slower pace, relishing the smell of familiar spices that permeated the Mantis’ kitchen from the thousands of meals Greez had cooked there.

Except as he hobbled through the corridor at the back of the ship, one of the cabin doors hissed open and Bode stepped through, his look of surprise almost definitely matching the one on Cal's face. The corridor suddenly felt far too narrow, Bode's broad shoulders taking up more space than they had any right to, and Cal couldn't stop his traitorous mind thinking that he could definitely find a better way to occupy his hands now.

“Cal. You're up.” They were the first words Bode had spoken to him in a fucking week, and he sounded almost disappointed. Cal’s heart sank back down again.

He gestured to the brace on his knee. “With a little help.” He glanced past Bode as he spoke. To his surprise, all of Bode's stuff was still in the cabin behind him. The makeshift nest of pillows and cushions next to the bunk was clearly a second bed for Kata, her Mookie doll placed neatly on top of the pile. “You're living on the Mantis?”

“Kata likes it here.” Bode closed the door with the press of a button.

For possibly the first time ever, Cal had absolutely no idea what to say to Bode. He shifted awkwardly, the tips of his ears burning. “Are you… Are you doing okay here?”

Bode raised his eyebrows. “Is that how we're going to do this? Small talk?” 

“Oh, I'm sorry,” Cal said, in a flash of sarcastic anger. “Did you want a proper conversation? Because I’ve been waiting patiently all week.”

Bode sighed, then rubbed a hand on his brow. “Fine. Let’s go sit. It can’t be comfortable for you to stand.”

“I’m fine here.”

“Now you’re just being stubborn.” Bode grasped Cal’s shoulders to steer him back to the main room and damn those hands were strong. Cal, cheeks hot, could only splutter uselessly as Bode walked him back to the couch and pushed him down onto it, then took a seat on the other corner.

Cal hadn't planned this far ahead. What was he meant to say? ‘I think I might be in love with you’? Too direct. ‘Why the fuck haven’t you been talking to me’? Too aggressive. He opened his mouth and then abruptly closed it again. Why was it suddenly so hard?

Bode settled against the backrest. “Okay. Fine. I'll start: when do you leave?”

“What?”

“When do you leave?” Bode repeated slower. “Now that you’re able to walk, you're not going to stay in this little facility for much longer, so…” He gestured around him.

BD-1 chose that moment to barge back into the room, chattering angrily about how Cal had forgotten about him. As soon as he saw Bode, he reverted to more acceptable language and jumped onto Bode's shoulder with a soft coo. 

“Traitor,” Cal muttered. 

“Hey, BD,” Bode said, giving him a quick scritch. “Can you please ask Cal to stop beating around the bush and tell me when he's leaving me here?”

“Excuse me? BD, you tell Bode that he's not making any sense, and ask him what gives him the right to–”

“Cal!” Bode's eyes blazed and Cal stopped talking. With a sad noise, BD-1 crept down from Bode's shoulder and crouched between them, looking from one to the other. 

“It's okay, BD,” Cal said quietly, reaching down to pat his head. He squinted at Bode, trying to figure out where this was coming from, but even in the Force there was nothing. Bode had hidden himself again. It should be a good thing that he’d regained enough control to keep the storm properly fettered, but the smooth emptiness made Cal shiver. “Tomorrow. But I'm not leaving you here. Why would you even think that?”

Bode ran a hand over his face with an aggravated sigh. “You're going back to Cere, right? To wherever she's meeting the leaders of the Hidden Path. I don't know about you, but I don't think I have an invite.”

“You're…” The words stuck in Cal's throat. “But I want you there.”

Bode shook his head. “The truth is out. There have to be consequences. I'm lucky Merrin lets me stay here, and this is only a safehouse, not the heart of the whole operation. You don't build a highly delicate network like the Hidden Path by letting traitors back inside.”

Understanding dawned, rigid and unwelcome, and Cal’s hand on BD-1 tightened. Bode thought Cal was leaving him, and instead of fighting for them to stay together, he had been deliberately withdrawing - to what? To try and make it hurt less? “Is that why you've been avoiding me? You've been trying to… to say goodbye?”

There was just the slightest moment of hesitation, before Bode said, “Yes.”

Cal threw his hands in the air. “Right,” he laughed bitterly. “Great plan Akuna. A perfect encore of last time, when you kissed me out of the blue then fucked off back to the ISB. How did that work out for you?”

“Yeah, everything went to shit after that,” Bode retorted. “Maybe it would have been better for both of us if that had been the last time we saw each other.”

Cal had to suck a breath through his teeth to stop him saying something he'd regret. His chest ached with something he couldn't name. “You don't mean that. Why are you still pushing me away and assuming I’ll go? When will you just… let me decide what I want?”

“Because I know what you want. And it’s impossible.” Bode deflated, and the deep sadness in his eyes pierced Cal's heart. “You want to walk the Hidden Path by day and come back to me at night? You want everyone doubting your integrity because anything you know might get back to me? You want to disappear for weeks or months at a time fighting the good fight against the Empire, wondering whether I’ll even be there when you get back? It’s a pipe dream, Cal. You can't be serious.”

“What do you want then?” 

“Everything.” Bode inhaled sharply. “Cal, I… I want everything from you. But, unlike you, I know that's asking too much.”

Cal’s brain short-circuited so hard it probably let off sparks. “Everything?”

Bode groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Oh, Scrapper, don't be like that. Did you even listen to anything else I said? You know I love you, but you can't possibly think we can make this work.”

“‘I love you’?” Cal repeated incredulously. How could he say it like that, so casually? Like it was an everyday, ordinary thing and not something so earth-shattering it swept the ground out from under Cal's feet.

Bode gave him an exasperated look that made Cal's heart swell. “You know, for someone so smart, you really can be an idiot. Yes, I love you, wasn't that obvious? And there are a thousand fucking reasons why we can't–”

Cal threw himself at Bode. Leg be damned, he needed to get his lips on Bode’s as fast as physically possible. They crashed together and Cal silenced Bode’s grunt of surprise by kissing him deeply, hands finally, finally wrapping themselves around the back of Bode’s neck. After a split second of hesitation, Bode’s hands landed on Cal's hips, pulling him impossibly close, kissing him back with that glorious tenacity that was so uniquely his.

Whatever self-control Bode had over the Force broke. Cal didn’t just know that Bode loved him, he understood it at a molecular level, could feel it vibrating in the very core of his being. There was no trace of the dark side, none at all: just pure love rushing over him in warm waves, drowning him in it, and Cal had to break the kiss to draw a ragged breath. 

Bode laughed, and Cal melted because it was the first time in far too long that he’d seen him smile. “You’re fucking incorrigible, you know that? Kissing won't solve any of our problems.” Despite the objection, his hands stayed firmly planted on either side of Cal's hips, and when Cal leaned in for more, Bode was right there to meet him. 

“Mmm.” Cal stroked Bode’s beardy chin with one hand and nibbled on Bode's lower lip until he gasped. “I think it will.”

Very gently, Bode nudged Cal onto his lap. “Mind your leg,” he murmured. “I don't want Vano to hunt me down.”

“If you break me again, maybe I'll stay here longer,” Cal whispered suggestively in Bode's ear, and Bode burst out laughing.

“Tempting. But then Merrin would definitely hunt me down. I think she respects me slightly more now that I've come clean, but she definitely likes me less.”

“Merrin doesn't like anyone,” Cal pouted.

“Except you,” Bode said, dragging a slow, chaste kiss across Cal's lips that somehow drove Cal even crazier than his earlier passion. “And Cere.” Another kiss. “And sometimes Greez.” Another–

“Papa, what's going on?” 

Both Cal and Bode froze at the sound of Kata's voice, lips separated by nothing more than a breath. Cal was suddenly extremely aware of how neatly he was nestled in the crook Bode's lap, and the way that his arms were flung over Bode's shoulders. This was incriminating whichever way you looked at it. 

Kata stood at the top of the Mantis’ ramp, BD-1 hovering innocently by her ankles. (Cal was going to have to have a serious word with him later about boundaries.) Bode pulled back slightly, but didn't even attempt to move Cal off his lap. It probably would have been worse to try. “Hi sweetheart,” he said, his voice a pitch higher than normal and Cal had to choke back a giggle. “Cal and I have just been catching up.”

Kata regarded them both with suspicious eyes. “Were you kissing?”

“Well, you see, Kata,” Cal said as solemnly as he was able, “when two people love each other very much–” Bode's fingers dug into Cal's ribs so hard that he gasped and wriggled off Bode's lap back onto the couch.

“Love,” Kata repeated, very seriously, and BD-1 hooted the word in binary just after. Her brows were furrowed in deep concentration, like a mechanic finishing off a particularly tricky repair. “Like boyfriends love?” 

“Um.” Bode's face was as flushed as Cal had ever seen it, and he'd never thought he'd get to witness the Bode Akuna actually speechless. Bode opened and closed his mouth a few times before Cal jumped in to rescue him. 

“Yes,” he told her, a laugh still dancing in his voice from the sheer ridiculousness of the situation. “Just like that, Kata.”

Kata nodded, adding this important information to whatever theorem was forming in her mind. “Papa,” she said slowly, “if Cal is your boyfriend now, then that means he's not your best friend anymore. So… Cal can be mine instead, right?”

Cal snorted with sudden, bright laughter. He put a forearm on Bode's knee to lean past him (taking far too much satisfaction from the way that the touch made Bode jump) and held up his hand to Kata. “Damn right! Best friends?” 

Kata's serious face broke into a giddy grin. She smacked a high five onto Cal's palm triumphantly. “Best friends!”

—

Bode was right, and he knew it: no strength of feeling between the two of them was going to fix the very real issues that he and Cal faced. But he did have to admit that he felt better for Cal's kisses. Lighter. Freer.

Loved. 

They walked to dinner all four of them: Kata in between Bode and Cal, each with a hand in hers, and BD-1 riding on her shoulder. Bode watched the three of them chatter, their laughter mingling in the evening air, and thought he'd never seen anything more beautiful. If he could capture this moment and make it last forever, he might be happy from now until the end of time.

But it was only fleeting, in the end. When they walked into the communal dining hall, Kata dropped their hands and ran up to her new friend, the daughter of one of the other families living in the safehouse. She was a good five or six years older than Kata, but was very graciously rolling with Kata's clumsy attempts to befriend her. That made Bode burn with a different kind of happiness: what Kata lacked in experience, she more than made up for in enthusiasm.

Bode watched her go, taking BD-1 with her, then found some seats for him and Cal. Dinner was a communal thing, the souls in the safehouse joined through the shared bonds of strife and resistance: the handful of Hidden Path members, of course, plus the Mantis crew and two other families currently placed here on their way to somewhere else. They were discouraged from asking too many questions of each other, which suited Bode just fine, but he'd grown to appreciate their company nonetheless. There was something to be said for being a part of something, a feeling entirely unfamiliar to Bode since the Purge.

Tonight he wanted Cal all to himself, but he wasn't going to get his wish. Bode barely even noticed the food placed in front of him because he was too busy watching Cal effortlessly light up the room. Everyone wanted to speak to him, to congratulate him on his hard-won recovery, or to ask him if the stories they'd heard about him were true. Cal joked along good-naturedly, accepted handshakes and backslaps with practised grace, and never once let go of Bode's hand. 

“Does this count as you taking me out to dinner?” Cal asked, eyes sparkling, when they had a small moment to themselves.

“Not if I have to share you,” Bode grumbled, only half-joking. He moved his hand to rest possessively on Cal's thigh, but Cal just laughed and told him he had food in his teeth.

Greez slipped into a chair opposite. “How does it taste, kid?”

Cal grinned through a mouthful. “Tastes better here than alone in the medbay. And your new spices are working wonders.”

Greez looked at Bode and Bode looked back. They'd settled into some kind of understanding, Bode thought, bonding over their shared protectiveness of Cal, and he'd found that Greez was unnervingly more perceptive than Bode had given him credit for. But Bode couldn't complain, because Greez doted on Kata like she was his own. 

“Looking forward to seeing Cere?” Greez asked Cal, and Bode suddenly found something very interesting over the other side of the room to stare at because that's not what Greez was really asking. What he meant was, are you ready to leave Bode behind? 

But his sweet, straightforward Cal, who only ever said what he meant, replied, “Of course! Feels like it's been ages.”

“Yeah, well,” Greez said, his eyes finding Bode's again, then the place where Bode's hand disappeared under the table. “Make sure you get plenty of rest. Big day tomorrow.”

Cal groaned theatrically. “I've done nothing but sit in bed since I got here.” 

“I mean it!” Greez held up a finger. “If you're too sleep deprived to help me with my pre-flight checks, we're gonna have a problem.” Greez pushed himself away from the table and added, “Watch yourself, Jetpack.”

Bode nodded. The old nickname still stung, but he took the acknowledgement to heart. That was as close to a ‘goodbye and good luck’ as he was going to get.

Merrin didn't come over at all, just glanced at them from time to time. Either she was charitably giving Cal and Bode space for their final evening together, or she just didn't want anything to do with Bode. He couldn't tell which.

Everyone pitched in to clean up after dinner. Bode pushed Cal back down when he tried to stand to help, then went to find Kata so she could do her share. He gave her a cloth and she whizzed around the tables wiping them down, BD-1 whistling encouragingly from her shoulders, and Bode following behind to cover the spots she missed. Once they were dismissed, Cal walked back outside with them, breathing in the night air like he'd never tasted it before. The four of them sat together until it became too dark to see, and then Cal pointed out constellations to Kata that Bode was almost certain he was making up on the spot. It left Kata so excited that he had to bribe her to bedtime with promises of sweet treats for breakfast the next morning.

Bode left Cal in the Mantis’ entranceway with BD-1 while he got Kata tucked in, her tiny body dwarfed by the sheer number of blankets Greez had found for her. 

“Is this our new home, Papa?” Kata asked. “I like it a lot better than our old one.”

“I don't know,” Bode said honestly, brushing her hair away from her face. “I don't think so. But wherever we end up, the Hidden Path will make sure we're safe.”

“I feel safe,” Kata declared, making Bode smile despite himself. 

“Cal and his friends are going to take the Mantis away tomorrow, sweetheart,” Bode said. “Remember what we discussed? We're going to move into one of the outside buildings instead, just like your friend.”

Kata took her time before replying, snuggling under the covers with Mookie. Eventually she looked up at Bode, her eyes so much like Tayala's, and said, “I'd rather stay here.”

“I know. Me too,” Bode admitted. “And we'll both miss Cal. But what do we do when the people we love are far away?”

“We sing for them,” Kata said. 

“We do. And our songs carry across the stars, letting them know that we're thinking about them. The galaxy is big–” 

“But our songs are stronger,” Kata finished, but she sounded unconvinced. “I know, Papa. But I wish that they'd stay.”

Bode wished that too, but he couldn't get the words out, because he was woefully unpractised at saying the things he wanted out loud. He hadn't asked Cal to stay because he didn't feel he had any right to; if he had, he'd have been down on his knees begging Cal not to leave them well before now. Cal had more responsibilities than an ex-Imperial spy and his little girl, no matter how fond of them he was.

But once Kata nodded off and Bode closed the door quietly behind her, Cal was waiting alone for him with a bright smile and an outstretched hand. Bode took it and pulled Cal into his arms, burying his face in Cal's hair and sighing deeply.

“Talk to me,” Cal said. 

Bode didn't want to talk. He wanted to sink himself into Cal's skin and never emerge. He wanted to crawl into a deep, dark hole of his own making and stop anyone else from ever getting close to him again. He wanted to live in a world where he hadn't made the decisions he'd made, because everything he'd ever done had led to this: loving and being loved, but having to let Cal go anyway. 

So he let him go and walked outside and made Cal follow him out into the fresh evening air again. The courtyard was deserted: Merrin had her own room elsewhere, and Greez would come to his cabin on the Mantis much later, after a few good drinks with the unassailable constitutions of the Pantorans. Bode sat on the dry ground, sheltered under the long, lowered fin of the Mantis, and waited for Cal to join him - trying to ignore the old familiar part of him, the one used to running and hiding, that half-hoped Cal wouldn't. 

But of course, Cal lowered himself to the ground next to him without hesitation, despite the fact that his braced leg must still hurt.

“You don't have to come back,” Bode said abruptly. “The Hidden Path will do its job, find somewhere safe for me and Kata–” 

“I'm coming back,” Cal interrupted. “I promise.”

“Don't do that, Scrapper. Don't give me hope.”

“You deserve hope.” Even in the darkness, Cal's eyes shone. Everything about him was so fucking perfect, from his stupid perfect heart, to his stupid perfect face. How could Bode not love him? He was trapped in his orbit, helpless to resist as Cal twisted around and kissed him gently, lips warm against the cool night. And Bode kissed him back, hand resting on Cal's chest, but it came with the creeping knowledge that each kiss was counting down to their last.

This wasn't about guilting Cal into staying or making him regret leaving. It was like that decisive night on Jedha, when Bode hadn't been able to bear the thought of running away without letting Cal know how he felt about him. “I don't… I don't want this to end.” Bode had to choke the words out. 

“We could make it last longer,” Cal said breathlessly, his gaze suddenly sharp and intense in a way that Bode felt in his skin. “Come spend the night with me. I want to… to wake up next to you, so you're the first thing I see when I open my eyes. I want…” Cal broke off, and this close Bode could see the flush that coloured Cal's cheeks, the way his pupils were big in the moonlight. “I want to show you how much you mean to me.”

Bode took a deep breath. He wanted to, burned with want. With care, he traced Cal's face with his fingertips, finding the scar that ran from ear to nose and running the pad of his thumb across it reverently. To spend the night with Cal would be absolutely everything, but he couldn't do that to himself if Cal was still leaving. “When I know you're mine to keep,” Bode breathed, fingers tightening on Cal's chin, and Cal shivered under his touch. “And not a moment before.”

Maybe it was unfair to leave them both wanting more, but Bode had never known much in the galaxy to be fair. His hand slid from Cal's waist to his hips as he pulled him in sharply, tasting the desire on Cal's lips, hearing it in the small, needy whimpers at the back of Cal's throat. Cal's body was hot under his hands, pliant where Bode slipped his thumbs under Cal's shirt to dig his fingertips into the bone. Too quickly, Cal was gasping beneath him, writhing helplessly against Bode's grip, and only then did Bode take pity and release him.

“Bode,” Cal groaned, and Bode drank in the gravel in his voice. “You're not making this easy.”

“I’ve never once made your life easier,” Bode smiled.

“Hah. That's not true and you know it.” Cal’s fingers played along the neckline of Bode's shirt. “Tell me to go, and I'll go.”

Bode picked up Cal’s hand and kissed the backs of his fingers, one by one. “Stay a while longer. Watch the stars with me.”

“Anything,” Cal sighed, leaning into him so that their hearts beat together. “Anything you want.”

The next morning dawned cold. Cal helped move Bode and Kata's stuff off the Mantis - well, helped as much as Bode was willing to allow, because he didn't want Cal to overexert himself. It didn't take long. Too soon the engines were hot and Greez was calling for Cal to join him and Merrin on board. Kata had already said her goodbyes to everyone - including a big hug for Merrin which made Bode raise his eyebrows - but he had sent her away before takeoff. He wasn't sure what he was going to say or do in the moment, and he didn't need her to watch him break apart. 

“I'm coming back,” Cal said. It was strange seeing him back in his usual attire, and with his blaster lost on Nova Garon, his thigh looked empty without its usual holster. But he was wearing his lightsaber again: Cal the Jedi, back in action, ready to save the galaxy from itself one Imperial at a time. 

“We'll be fine here.” Bode stole a quick kiss - his last one, he told himself sternly. “But we'll miss you. I'll miss you.”

Cal's smile wobbled, just for a second. “I never said it back, but…” He unhooked his lightsaber, twisted the hilt in two, then pressed one half into Bode's hand. “I love you too.”

The gesture paired with the words made Bode suddenly struggle to breathe. The hilt was so familiar to him, a modified version of both of Cal's masters’ lightsabers and as much a product of times gone by as it was a tribute to them. It was so much more than a simple ‘I love you’. A lightsaber was a Jedi's identity and power, his life; giving someone half your lightsaber was like giving them half of your soul. “I can't take this,” Bode croaked.

Cal just smiled. “Yes you can. Look after it for me. And look after yourself.”

Bode chuckled shakily, his knuckles white around the hilt. “Look who's talking, Scrapper. Don't you dare get yourself killed while I'm not there to protect you.”

“Deal,” Cal said. “I'll see you soon.”

“Soon,” Bode echoed. Cal stepped away. Three strides up the Mantis’ ramp and he was gone, and Bode hurried back to avoid getting blown away. The ship took off, shrank into a speck in the sky, then vanished out of sight.

Chapter Text

Cal loved the background thrill of hyperspace. There was a momentum to it that thrummed in the core of his being, progression over a long, vast emptiness. After days of complaining about being stuck with nothing to do in the Pantoran medbay, he sat on the Mantis’ couch and closed his eyes, happy just to bask in the feeling of going somewhere again.

If only everyone else on the ship had the same intentions. Footsteps paused in front of him, with ominous intent. “Out with it,” said a voice from above.

Cal cracked an eye open. Merrin loomed over him, mouth set in a hard line. The sounds of Greez busying himself in the kitchen ground to a halt - all the better for him to listen in, the sneak. 

“I talked to Bode,” Cal said with a self-conscious shrug. “We’re good again.”

Merrin slipped onto the couch, crossing her legs over each other and leaning forward so Cal had no choice but to look at her. “I guessed as much when you turned up to dinner together last night, looking like a pair of lovesick nydaks.”

Cal sat up a little straighter. “Nydaks fall in love?”

“You do not want to hear about their mating rituals, I promise you that.” Merrin prodded his shoulder. “But you cannot convince me to change the subject so easily. Explain.”

Heat rose in Cal’s cheeks while he rolled a couple of responses round in his head. ‘None of your business’ was his preferred option - the private, tender moments he'd shared with Bode felt somehow sacred, as if talking about what had happened might diminish them in some way. But Merrin certainly wouldn't appreciate that sort of petulance, and he didn't want her to start the journey pissed off with him. “We talked,” Cal repeated hesitantly. And kissed. A lot.

“Did he apologise?” 

“Um. He called me an idiot and then told me he loved me, does that count?”

Merrin raised her eyes to the ceiling. “Cal Kestis, you most certainly are an idiot. A pair of pretty eyes and some enticing words, and you forgive him everything?” 

“You think Bode has pretty eyes?” Cal asked and Merrin swiped at him. “Come on,” he laughed, dodging out of the way. “Trust me on this, okay? We're good.”

Merrin's eyes narrowed and for a second Cal sobered. Joking aside, Merrin and Greez had every reason to mistrust Bode, and it was no wonder they wanted Cal to keep his distance. From the outside, Cal could see how it looked; from the inside, he'd never been more sure of anything in his life. 

“Anyone can say those words to you.” Greez rounded the corner from the kitchen holding three steaming mugs. “‘I love you’. See? It's easy.”

“It wasn’t just the words. I… I felt it,” Cal said seriously, fist pressed against his heart where the memory lingered: the purity and strength of those emotions crashing over him in the Force, wiping away all traces of the darkness. Even now it made him ache, and he was sure he was going to crave it every second they were apart. “It's real.”

Merrin and Greez glanced at each other, and, for the first time, Cal thought they might actually be starting to believe him. 

“I don't know.” Greez put the mugs down on the table with a soft clink-clink-clink. “You've just got to be careful, that's all. I don't want to see you get hurt.”

“If he ever does anything that brings Cal harm, I will see to it that he lives in agony for the rest of his miserably short life,” Merrin assured him, conversationally, as she picked up her mug.

“I'll tell him that,” Cal said sarcastically, making a face at her. Merrin never made threats she didn't intend to keep. “I'm sure it'll give him pause the next time he considers betraying us to the Empire.”

The attempt at a joke didn't land. Merrin frowned at him deeply, and said, “Indeed. You do realise that nothing has changed, yes? His loyalty to his daughter continues to be his overriding concern. If she is put in harm's way, are you certain he would not betray us all again to keep her safe? Betray you?”

“Oh right, because it's such a crime to care about his family,” Cal grouched back, annoyed at himself for giving her an opening. He would never dream of asking Bode to choose between him and Kata, because of course she would always come first. Above him, above the cause. Above everything. “And what about you? What would you do if the Empire demanded you choose between my life, or Greez's, and the Hidden Path?”

An uncomfortable silence filled the Mantis. Cal knew the answer, of course: Merrin would burn the Empire to the ground if it so much as thought to ask the question. She would expect Cal to be able to fight his own way out like he always had - that’s exactly why she hadn’t intervened on Nova Garon, and had chosen instead to protect Greez and the Mantis. But if push came to shove, if the blaster was hot against their heads, Merrin would choose family. They all would. It was what made them different from the Empire.

“Be that as it may,” Merrin continued eventually, “I must protect the Hidden Path against any form of risk. There is a reason I haven't told you where we're going, regardless of the nature of your relationship. Bode is not to know anything about the Hidden Path until we are certain he will not betray us again.”

“I wouldn't have told him,” Cal objected, but his lips twisted with irritation. “Besides, who would Bode even tell? It's not like the Empire is going to welcome him back with open arms after he nuked an entire ISB base and took off with their prized prisoner.” This is what Bode had feared would happen: that because Bode wasn't trusted, then Cal wouldn't be either as long as he chose to be with him. But surely, if his family trusted him at all, they should trust Cal's choices? They should believe that he wouldn't be with Bode if Bode was a threat to the cause. The cause that Cal had devoted so much of his adult life to.

“Don't feel too bad, kid.” Greez broke the moment by shooing Merrin along so he could squeeze onto the couch next to her. “She didn't tell me where we're going either, not until I had to literally plug the coordinates into the hyperdrive.”

“Because the only thing that has a looser tongue than you is an oggdo,” Merrin muttered into her mug.

Cal and Greez exchanged the fond but long-suffering look of two crewmates who had years of experience being on the receiving end of Merrin's disapproval. It went with the territory of being her friend. If Merrin didn't spend every other sentence insulting you, did she really even like you? 

“Where are we going, then?” Cal asked, breathing a bit easier now that they'd moved onto this new line of discussion. 

Merrin's face softened, just a bit. “To a little planet called Bogano.”

—

Cal stood outside the Mantis and breathed in deeply. Five years on, Bogano still looked exactly like it always had. The Zeffo vault loomed on the horizon, solid and dark and so ancient that it was as much a part of the landscape as the hill it rose from. Even the binog lay in the same spot, as if it hadn’t so much as moved in half a decade of watchful rest. Last time he’d stood here, he’d been reeling from the echoes stored in Trilla’s lightsaber, and the shock of seeing Stormtroopers break apart the stillness of this secluded sanctuary. This time, Bogano was quiet. After getting what they wanted five years ago, the Empire had gone - and hadn’t come back.

Cal left Merrin and Greez to make their own way to the meet-point, and walked headfirst back into the past. From his shoulder, BD-1 pointed out memories Cal thought he had long forgotten: the nook where Cal had found the Mantis' bogling stowaway, and the sinkholes that had dumped Cal right on top of an oggdo's head one time. They quickly found the corner where Cal had first met BD-1 - two lost souls who didn't know at the time how much they needed each other. Cal knelt on the spot, ignoring the twinge in his knee, and closed his eyes. There was a tangible legacy of peace here, built through generations after generations of Zeffo dedication, then later by Master Cordova’s reverence. The fraction of time that the Empire had been here was just a tiny blip in this planet’s history. Soon, this soft, quiet earth would swallow its scars, leaving no memory of it at all.

Cal opened his eyes and squinted against the glare of the sun. Maybe that’s all it would take for the galaxy to unshackle itself from the Empire: time. He just had to hope that he’d still be around to see it.

He struggled to stand again, BD-1 lending as much help as he was able, and continued on his way. Cal had traced every winding path here so many times that he didn't even have to think. He just followed his feet, slow and steady. If he was avoiding the moment he had to see Cere again, he didn't say it out loud. Maybe he chose the long way around because it was easier on his leg, or because there was just so much of Bogano that he wanted to see. All he knew was that, by the time he found the door and flicked it open with two fingers in the Force, the sun was just starting to set. 

This location was nowhere near as grand as the monastery on Jedha had been. Rough hewn stone steps spiralled up and down into darkness, and the damp clung with cold fingers to Cal's skin. He followed the sound of voices and found himself in a round room, bright with a central fire that sent a thin line of smoke up through a gap in the ceiling. Everyone else was already there, and BD-1 leapt off Cal's shoulders to skitter over to Cordova with a string of excited beeping.

“Cal,” Cere said warmly. Despite everything, she looked well. She'd saved a seat for him round the fire, but Cal suddenly hesitated. The location was different, and Cordova was there instead of Bode, but otherwise this could easily be that last night on the clifftops of Jedha, that precious little moment in time before everything had changed. Before Bode had kissed him, the soft touch of his lips throwing Cal’s world into a new and irreversible orbit.

He shook himself out of the memory. There would be time to dwell on that later, if he wanted to start the long process of finally sorting through everything that had happened since that night. He accepted Cere's offer, took his seat by the fire and tucked his chin into his chest for warmth. She took one look at him, hunched and tense, and a tiny frown passed across her face. For a moment, he thought she might say more to him, but instead she turned back to the others, carrying on the conversation without drawing him into it. Greez was telling her about the Hidden Path base on Pantora and what it had achieved, and Cal was content to quietly listen, soothed by the sounds of his family back around him. 

No one spoke to him; perhaps taking their cue from Cere, perhaps drawing their own conclusions from Cal’s reticence. Only Cordova, who Cal had spoken to more times through pre-recorded holos than in real life, looked at Cal with something like concern in his crinkled old eyes. Cal avoided them; the past pressed so close here, too large and looming for him to shrink it into speech.

Because he hadn't just changed when Bode had kissed him. He’d been irrevocably changed years earlier when the Mantis crew abandoned each other and left Cal to drift alone through the galaxy struggling to find his path again. Now none of them were the people they had been five years ago - Cere had stepped back into her identity as a Jedi master, Merrin had outgrown the isolated girl who’d never left Dathomir, and Greez had found peace. Cal no longer recognised the unseasoned, wide-eyed padawan he'd been when he had first stepped into Bogano's misty haze, hesitantly alight with new purpose for the first time since the Purge. Now he was a knighted warrior: battered and bruised by the fight that never gave him the time to breathe.

The night wore on. Cal wasn't sure when he nodded off, the warmth from the fire filling his senses until he wasn't aware of anything at all. It was Cere who woke him with a gentle shake of his shoulder.

“I wish I had your ability to sleep anywhere,” she said, her smile wry, “but I'm not letting you spend your first night here on a chair.”

Everyone else had left, and it was just the two of them amid the dying embers of the fire. Cal yawned and stretched, a full-body thing that cracked his shoulders and wrists. He wouldn't tell her, then, about the long periods aboard the Mantis, when he'd slept for days in the cockpit so that the colourful rush of hyperspace would make him feel less alone. “Thanks,” he said, giving her his best impression of a smile. “It's good to see you, Cere.”

“You too.” He expected Cere to chivvy him away to bed, but instead she sighed deeply and sat down next to him again. The frown from before returned to her face, more furrowed this time. “When Merrin first contacted me, she wasn't sure whether you were going to make it,” she said after a pause. “I don't… I can't describe how that made me feel.”

“I'm here now,” Cal assured her.

Cere smiled stiffly. The remnants of the fire glowed in her eyes, bright with a sincerity Cal had missed deep in his soul. “You are. That's all I ask, Cal.”

Cal was mature enough now to recognise that Cere hadn’t left him all those years ago; they’d left each other, too proud and stubborn to talk through their differences. All the times when they’d both been sitting alone, but needing each others’ company, hung heavy in the air between them. Cal’s brush with death on Nova Garon was something different, and Cal wasn’t brave enough to face the possibility of a world where he made Cere mourn him. One dead padawan was a big enough burden for anyone to bear, let alone a second.

Then again, she must have prepared herself for the possibility. Cal had never shied away from danger - quite the opposite. If anyone had bothered to ask, he wouldn't have admitted out loud that he expected the fight against the Empire to kill him, but after separating from the Mantis crew he'd thrown himself into it so fiercely that it was never that distant a possibility.

And if Bode hadn't disobeyed his orders and defied Denvik, there was every chance that Cal would already be dead by now. 

“I'm sorry for worrying you,” Cal whispered. He blinked around unspent tears. What had his righteous crusade turned him into? Someone so disconnected and single-minded that even the Empire had realised how brittle and breakable a target he would be. He'd made it so easy for Bode to become his friend, to earn his trust, to make Cal crave his company like the air he breathed. And even now, when he knew the truth about Bode, Cal still couldn't let those feelings go again like everyone wanted him to. 

“I'll never stop worrying.” Cere leaned forward, not quite touching him. “That's my prerogative as your Master.”

Cal tried another smile, but it trickled away like water. “Master Tapal always used to tell me that I kept him up at night.”

Cere's small huff of a laugh pulled at threads in Cal's chest that were quickly unravelling. “I know the feeling well. He'd be so proud of the man you've become. I'm proud.”

This time when Cal closed his eyes, he couldn’t stop the tears. Neither of them should be proud of him. With each new mission, he killed and killed, and fought and fought, and the Empire only grew stronger. His decision to trust Bode with his life, with his family’s lives, had led to the utter annihilation of everything Cere had worked so hard to build on Jedha. 

Cal put both hands over his face, but he couldn't hide the full-body sobs that wracked through him. He was a fucking mess of a Jedi. He hated harder than he should, loved harder than he should, and still the darkness clawed at him no matter which path he chose. Despite everything Jaro Tapal and Cere had tried to teach him, Cal didn't know the way forward anymore.

Cere's hands landed on Cal's, soft but firm, soothing out the tremors. She pulled him forward, and Cal buried his head in her shoulder. She rarely held him like this, like he was a child to be comforted - or maybe it was that Cal rarely let her. Seeing her again made him feel so young, just a padawan still trying to impress his master. The Force expanded from her heart to his, enveloping him in a brief pocket of stillness: for a second he floated in blissful relief from the thoughts that raged through his mind. When it receded again they were quieter, weaker, less overwhelming.

“You've dealt with so much.” Cere's hand brushed lightly through Cal's hair. “But you never have to deal with it alone. We're all here for you.”

“I let you down,” Cal choked out into the rough fabric of Cere's robe. “I couldn't get the compass back, and now the Hidden Path–” 

“Is that what this is about?” Underneath the surprise in her voice was a hard undercurrent of anger that Cal wasn’t used to hearing. “Cal, we could have lost you. You're so much more important than the compass, or a mission for the Hidden Path. You. Don't ever think otherwise.”

“But–”

“No buts!” Cere pulled back, her hands bracketing Cal's shoulders, and he had no choice but to meet her fiery gaze. “The Hidden Path will survive, with or without Tanalorr. So will you.”

Tears still ached in his throat, and Cal rubbed his eyes just for the excuse to avert them from Cere's face. He wanted to survive, to live a life that was full of joy and love and laughter. With Bode - and Kata, and BD-1, and all the people he cared about. But his duty as a Jedi–

“Stop that,” Cere said sharply. 

“What?” 

“I can feel you putting yourself down.”

“You can't feel that,” Cal grumbled, sinking a bit further down into his chair. Not through the Force anyway, but she could see it in his face and that was somehow worse: that she knew him well enough to read his thoughts before he even recognised he was having them himself. “I’m fine. I just… don’t know what’s next for me. I don’t like it.”

“What’s next is that you heal.”

Cal sighed and rubbed his knee. “I’m getting there. Slowly. The medic on Pantora said–”

“You know I don’t just mean your leg. Look, I don’t know exactly what happened to you on that base, but I do know that the Empire isn’t kind to Jedi who fall into its grasp.”

The phantom itch on his wrists prickled again, but Cal resisted the urge to scratch them. “Merrin didn’t tell you?”

“It wasn’t her story to tell.”

Cal was quiet. He had been trying so hard not to think about how he still heard Denvik in his nightmares, still felt that white hot crackle of electricity tearing through his body. Wordlessly he pulled his sleeves up, so Cere could see the ragged scars from the interrogation chair that circled his wrists.

“I'm so sorry,” she said, reaching out and touching them gently. Hers had faded now, time rendering them barely visible on her own wrists. “I had hoped that you'd never…”

“I survived because of you,” Cal said. He meant it. In the middle of all the interrogation and torture, when he’d been screaming in agony and forgetting the sound of his own name, he'd remembered her and her teachings. Cere had protected him across time and space with the faith in the Force that she’d kindled inside him, whether she knew it or not.

A yawn forced its way out of Cal’s lungs, and Cere gave him a look he recognised well. For once he agreed with her: he needed to sleep. His body wasn’t used to being upright for so long and passing out somewhere dark and comfortable sounded downright indulgent right now. “Tomorrow,” he said, and finally managed an actual smile. “Would you like to go for a walk with me?”

Cere smiled back. “Of course.”

—

They woke up early, before the sun rose. Everyone was still asleep except Cordova, who was tinkering away at a datapad while BD-1 looked curiously over his shoulder. Cal left them to it and emerged with Cere into a cold pre-dawn that filled him with a renewed sense of purpose. The only sound was the rumble of the binog as it trained its eyes on them from a distance.

“Do you really think it’s a guardian?” Cal asked.

“I think it’s the only creature I’ve ever met that seems to sleep as little as you,” Cere remarked. She gestured for Cal to take the lead and he set off. He had no destination or route in mind. The Force would guide them, there and back, and he trusted that they’d find what they needed along the way. Peace. Connection. Maybe the understanding they’d failed to find when they’d parted ways all those years ago.

They started slowly and in silence, Cal testing the stamina of his injured leg. A combination of climbing crevices with his good leg and Cere lending a hand with the Force got them to higher ground in time for the sunrise. Behind the curtain of mist, the sun was barely more than a rounded glow on the horizon, brightening the tableau of cracked flatlands in front of them inch by imperceptible inch. Cal rested a hand on the damp ground and gazed into the distance, heart singing at this long-missed feeling of freedom. The second his leg healed completely, he would walk and walk and walk all the way to the edge of the world without looking back.

While the sun got to work burning away the top layer of mist, they continued their journey. Cere told him about the Hidden Path, how she'd met Kawlan Roken and its other leaders down in Cordova's workshop while Cal had been convalescing on Pantora. With the losses of Jedha and Tanalorr, and Mapuzo before that, the Hidden Path was diminished, crumbling slowly against relentless Imperial resistance. They needed allies and arms, resources and bodies on the ground to replace those they'd lost. So much need, and so much risk, to help those who'd otherwise be helpless against the Empire and its boundless influence.

“Another impossible task,” Cal said dully.

“Our specialty, wouldn't you say?” Cere’s tone was one he’d heard before: durasteel determination to stay optimistic in the face of terrible odds. 

It wasn't a fight that would bring the Empire to its knees, not by any means. The Hidden Path was nothing more than a sticking plaster, a way of treating the rot that the Empire created without actually healing it. But it saved lives, changed lives - for people like Bode and Kata, Jedi and other Force-sensitives who the Empire would never stop hunting. People like Cal.

By the time the sun rose to its peak, they'd reached parts of Bogano Cal had never been to before. For the last hour or so his leg had been twinging with a dull pain, and once they stopped Cal sank to the ground with a low groan he couldn't hide. Maybe he had overdone it, but his pride certainly wasn't going to let him call Greez to collect them in the Mantis. 

“Let's rest here for a bit,” he suggested.

Cere eyed him in a way that told him she wasn't fooled for a second, but she settled into a cross-legged position next to him without comment. “Why are we here, Cal?”

Cal looked around them, at the flat horizon that stretched out in every direction. The whole journey here, he’d been trying to find the perfect way to start this conversion, but he was still no closer to knowing what to say. “Bode kissed me,” he blurted out. 

“Ah,” Cere said, and it wasn't the disappointment or disgust Cal had feared. Worse, it was the slightly smug ah of someone confirming a long-held suspicion.

Cal stared at the smile that Cere was failing to hide and felt embarrassment prickle onto his cheeks. “You’re not surprised.”

“I saw the way he looked at you. And sometimes the way you looked at him.”

Back on Jedha, Cal had barely even known what he was feeling for Bode himself, yet Cere had seen it. The thought was strangely comforting, although he made a mental note not to attempt to keep any secrets from Cere in the future. “You’re not angry?”

“Should I be?” Cere asked, giving him an amused nudge with her shoulder. “Anger is not the Jedi way.”

“Nor is falling in love,” Cal argued, then realised what he’d said. Ugh, why did talking about how he felt about Bode in front of Cere have to be so painfully embarrassing? If he blushed any harder, steam might start pouring out of his ears.

“More than just a kiss, then,” Cere observed softly. She placed a gentle hand on Cal’s knee. “Look, I loved the Jedi Order. I’ve spent years trying to preserve its teachings and history, to ensure that nothing they stood for over the centuries is lost. But that was then. We are the Order of today. You, me and Eno. And I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but none of us are… well, let’s say ‘by-the-book’ Jedi.”

A padawan knighted in the field, a master who ripped up her connection to the Force then started again, and an eccentric researcher who told the Jedi Council to their faces that they were wrong about the war. Perhaps it was a good job Zee couldn't see them now - she’d lose her mind if she knew they were all that was left. Yet there was no other Jedi whose company Cal would rather keep.

“Whatever the Order taught before about love or relationships,” Cere continued, “our decisions are our own. And I, personally, would rather see too much love in your life than too little.”

She was right, and Cal had known it for some time. The Order was gone, and whatever Cere thought about preserving history, Cal was ready to leave it behind. He already had when he'd crawled into Bode’s lap and invited him into his bed. But that wasn’t good enough for Cal - it wasn't that simple, it couldn't be that simple.

Because the issue wasn’t that Cal was in love, it was that he was in love with Bode.

“He betrayed us,” Cal said, swallowing a lump in his throat. “Stole the compass, allowed the Empire to burn down your Archive. Merrin thinks he could betray the Hidden Path again.”

“From what I understand, we have Bode to thank for getting you off Nova Garon alive.” Cere nudged him again. “For that, I could kiss him myself.”

Cal didn't laugh. “He was going to take Tanalorr away from the Hidden Path and keep it for himself. And we only escaped Nova Garon because he… he did what you did, and used the dark side to slaughter everyone there. He confessed to all of it. He…” The words were hard to say, even though Cal had had a little time to get used to the idea. “He kept the Inquisitors off his back for so many years only because he made a deal to hunt other Jedi instead. That’s why he found me.”

Cere sat back and crossed her arms, her brows creased together. “And yet you love him still. Do you want my judgement, Cal? Is that what you're asking for?” 

Of course it was. He could handle Merrin and Greez's disapproval, but Cere's? He needed her to tell him he was doing the right thing, that he wasn't wasting energy and time chasing something he shouldn't even want, let alone hold in his arms. 

And yet…

And yet that wasn’t what we wanted, not really, and that was almost worse. If Cere told him he was wrong, that he should leave Bode behind on Pantora and never return, he didn't know if he could do it. There was every possibility he'd just defy her again, break their little family apart again, all because he thought he knew what was right.

Every doubt he felt, every good reason he had to not be with Bode, fought with all the things he loved about him. It tore him up from the inside. Cal wanted nothing more than to be with him, but he was scared – of the consequences, the risk, the judgements of others. Scared of what it meant for Cal's future, because they had Kata. Cal couldn't put her at risk by continuing to draw the Empire's wrath the way he had been over the last five years. But how could he stop, when the only reason any of them were in danger to begin with was because the Empire continued to hunt Jedi?

Cal didn’t know what he wanted, but he knew he wanted it from Cere.

Their conversation from the night before drifted back to him. Cere’s voice, measured and steady. You’re here now. That’s all I ask.

There were tears brimming in his eyes again. Cal swiped them away angrily. Why couldn't it just be simple? “I need you to tell me we can overcome this. Me and Bode. Together.”

Cere inhaled but didn't reply. Instead she closed her eyes and stilled her breathing. This was a new thing: the old Cere had struggled to open herself up to the Force and, by the time they had parted ways, Cere's journey back to it had only just begun. Now he watched in awe as she reached inside herself and illuminated the glowing, razor-sharp outline of her own aura in the Force. The light grew from within her, from gentle to powerful, and Cal had to shield his eyes from how brightly it blazed.

“Do you see it?” she asked, her voice even and dreamlike, as if she was speaking from a trance. 

Cal looked again through squinting eyes. What was bright was bright like the sun, pulsing with calm, self-assured power. But in between were patches of darkness that moved like oil stains through the light. It was all still there, he realised: the anguish and guilt she’d suffered from as far back as the Purge. A permanent reminder of her pain, and as much a part of her as the light.

The aura faded, and the midday Bogano sun seemed dim in comparison. Cere's eyes opened, and found Cal's. “The strongest Jedi aren't the ones who don't have darkness,” she said in her normal voice again, “but the ones who don't avoid the darkness they do have. It can't be ignored or evaded - only overcome. Confronted. Seen and understood for what it truly is and then transcended. But it never, ever disappears.”

It wasn't what Cal wanted to hear. He wanted to wipe Bode's past clean, to purge it from his being so Bode never had to look back on the faces of all the people he had killed. He wanted his own darkness dead and destroyed, so it couldn’t rise to threaten him again. But, deep down, he already knew it was impossible; both he and Bode had experienced too much not to be marked with permanent scars on their souls.

And maybe that was okay, because they both knew what it was like to suffer, to fear, to hate - but they were both trying to choose love instead. Like Cere had.

“Not everything the Jedi Order taught should be rejected,” Cere continued. “They also taught that no one is beyond forgiveness, and no one is beyond redemption. Do you hold me to my past, because I betrayed my first padawan to the Empire and let her die by Vader's hand?”

“No,” Cal whispered. He could still see Trilla's face so clearly, bright with shock when Cere had begged for her forgiveness. “Of course not.”

“My darkness will always be there. But now I am strong enough, secure enough, that it doesn't control me. You and Bode can get there too.”

Cal felt his chest rise with hope. Because no, they weren't there yet - but they would be. And neither of them had to do it alone. “Does this… Does this mean I have your permission?” Cal asked. 

Cere grinned, for a second she looked as savage as Merrin. “Cal Kestis,” she said. “Like you need my permission to do anything.”

—

Without the Mantis crew, the safehouse on Pantora felt empty. More than once, Bode found himself standing in the landing pad where the Mantis used to sit, unsure what to do in all that extra space.

He missed Cal, plain and simple. It was an ache in his chest that wasn't going to go away, made worse by the fact that he had no idea when Cal would return. If he would return.

Stars above. It had only been two days, and already he was pining. It would be romantic if it wasn't so pathetic.

As a distraction, he tried to immerse himself in the dull routines of safehouse life. There were always things that needed doing: cooking and cleaning and washing for three families, repairing the things that were broken, and maintaining the things that weren't. Kata attacked every new task with glee, like learning how to wash your own clothes was the most exciting thing she'd ever done. He'd never appreciated before how even the most banal parts of living had been denied her on Nova Garon.

He was showing Kata how to perform routine maintenance on a gonk droid when Doctor Vano tapped him on the shoulder. 

“Could I have a word?” she asked. 

Bode wiped sweat off his face with his upper arm; the sun beat down into the courtyard today and Kata had insisted on being outside in it. “Sure,” he said, finding a rag for his oily hands. “What can I help you with?” 

She hesitated, and Bode gave her an appraising second look. Pantorans were inexpressive creatures as a rule, but there was a slight sheen on the doctor's upper lip that suggested nerves. “Please,” she said. “Walk with me.”

Bode threw the rag to the ground and frowned at Vano. “Kata, go clean up. We'll finish this later.”

Kata started to protest, but Bode silenced her his eyes. Whatever Vano wanted, it gave him a hollow feeling in the pit of his stomach and he needed Kata to be gone. This time, she obeyed, picking up the multitool Bode had given her and slipping away back inside. Once they were alone, Bode stood and stretched to his full height, making sure his eyes didn't leave Vano's face.

“Thank you,” she said.

There was no one around; everyone else was sheltering inside from the heat of the midday sun. “Out with it, then,” Bode said. 

Vano smiled and her eyes narrowed, and suddenly she wasn't the kindly doctor who had nursed Cal back to health anymore. “I know what you are.”

A shiver ran down Bode's spine that he didn't hide as well as he'd liked. He had been a fool, letting his guard down just because he was somewhere that was supposed to be safe. He crossed his arms, wishing that Merrin and Greez hadn’t confiscated his blaster. “And what am I?”

“An Imperial spy,” Vano said conversationally. 

Bode fought down the urge to look around, to double check no one could hear them. Paranoid behaviour like that would only prove her right in an instant. Instead, he raised his eyebrows. “What?” he asked, the only sensible response when confronted with a claim that should be laughable. Inside, his mind whirred, trying to connect the dots. Had she overheard him talking to Cal? Or had Merrin and Greez actually told the Hidden Path who he really was? And if she suspected something, why only say it now? 

Vano leaned closer. “I know,” she said, her voice lowered to a whisper, “because I'm an Imperial spy too.”

Chapter Text

“Not a flicker on that face,” Vano marvelled as she watched his reaction, both eyebrows raised. “I’m impressed. You really are a master of deception. To be honest, I expected no less.”

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” Bode growled.

“Nothing.” Her mouth curled into a friendly smile, but there was a hardness in her voice that set Bode's teeth on edge. “We’re just two residents, having a chat. There's no point pretending,” she added. “I knew who you were from the moment you walked in. We met once, years ago. I don't suppose you remember me, but I always remembered you. You were a legend, even then, for going after Jedi.”

It was amazing how quickly Bode could slip the mask back on. With practised ease, he forced the muscles in his jaw and shoulders to relax and leant back against the wall. Long years in both Imperial and Republic intelligence had taught how to make caustic words look casual, to smile when he wanted to snarl. “Okay,” he said. “Okay, I'll bite. If I am who you say I am, give me one reason why I shouldn't gut you here for risking my cover.”

Among ISB colleagues, there were strict rules of engagement if two agents encountered each other in the field. The first rule was that you did not, under any fucking circumstances, approach another agent to talk about your respective identities. It was like loudly announcing that you'd like your cover to be blown. Vano, whoever she was, was either extremely inexperienced, or an idiot who should never have been allowed anywhere near fieldwork – at least, he hoped it was one of those two. Option three was that whatever she had to say to Bode was more important than the cardinal rule. 

“Let's not forget where we are,” Vano said. “I've been embedded in this cell for years, long before it became part of the Hidden Path. If you attack me, I have a whole safehouse of ‘old friends’ to call on for help. Who do you think they'll believe? One lone refugee, or their beloved doctor?” She waited a beat for her words to sink in, then held out her arm. “Walk with me.”

Bode's instincts screamed at him. Vano was not an ally. Even if she still believed him to be a loyal agent of the Empire, there was nothing friendly about this interaction. The physical signs he'd noticed earlier - the sweat on her upper lip, the well-concealed tension in her brow, the involuntary twitching of her fingertips - weren't nerves as he'd originally supposed. No, Vano was angry, furiously so. The darkness roiled through him with the strength and thickness of sudden nausea. He needed to kill her, itched to kill her, to cut this stupid dance short and put an end to the danger. But she was right. Without Cal, he was nothing but another refugee here. Without a weapon, any attempt to kill her would be inefficient, messy and attention-grabbing, and he had no doubt he'd be put down before he could even begin to try to explain himself. 

Bode took her arm. “Convince me you’re worth my time,” he said, because that was always the game you played in the ISB. Every move was just another way to say the same things: I'm stronger than you, smarter than you, better than you. She might have the advantage of home turf, but he was pretty sure that he outranked her, and in the ISB, experience was everything. “You have five minutes.”

“Of course.” Vano squeezed his arm. She was short and slim, but there was strength in those hands, and he'd be an idiot to assume she would go down easy if it came to a fight. “Let's talk about Cal Kestis.”

It had been smart of her to get close to him; even the best agents couldn't control their heart rates, and Bode's spiked at the mention of Cal's name. He played it off as anger. “Kestis is my mark, and no concern of yours.”

“He’s an Imperial traitor,” Vano said, waving a hand dismissively. She led them on a loose circuit of the courtyard, like they were taking a casual stroll together in the sunshine. “And wanted by just about every authority the Empire has. Imagine what I thought when he turned up here in my care, unconscious and wounded and dying. I didn’t even have to do anything - just by doing nothing, he’d have slipped away, and no one would have even questioned it. I’d have killed the infamous terrorist Cal Kestis, and the Hidden Path would be none the wiser about whose authority I really answered to.”

“You are lucky you didn’t.” It was a testament to Bode’s self-control that was able to keep his breathing steady, let alone stop himself from violently shutting her up. The thought that this Imperial lackey had been touching Cal while he was unconscious, had been given free reign to hurt him when he’d been at his most vulnerable, made Bode want to rip her throat out with his teeth. With effort, Bode simmered that rage down to mere irritation, as though Vano were quibbling over something petty, not confessing to near murder. Bode the loyal ISB agent wouldn’t care about Cal’s life, only the mission. “Kestis is worth far more to me alive.”

Vano shrugged. “I guessed that much when you practically begged me to save his life. I worked day and night to make sure he’d survive, because if you needed him alive then the ISB must, and that was good enough for me. 

“Congratulations,” Bode said dryly. “Do you want a reward?”

“I want answers!” For a second, Vano’s anger was plain on her face. “Kestis is a high-profile mark and you were his trusted companion. I assumed this was a pass at Hidden Path leadership, and that you had a better chance of getting it than I did. So I played my part, for the good of the greater mission. I wrenched one of our greatest enemies back from death only so you could – what? Let him go?”

“I didn’t ‘let him go’,” Bode said frostily.

“Bullshit.” She rounded on him, jabbing his chest. She had an ego, this one, and that was a good thing: it made her manipulable. “In case you haven’t noticed, Kestis is gone. His crew are gone. And you have been left behind. So what greater good, exactly, was my sacrifice worth?”

“Sacrifice?” Bode echoed. He laughed when he realised what she was saying, and didn’t bother to keep the cruelty out of it. “Worth? So this is about a reward. Did you think killing Kestis might have earned you a promotion? As if the ISB gives a fuck what you’re up to – you’re stuck here in a dead-end placement, years deep and parsecs away from the action. You’re not here because you’re meant to play a bigger part in the bigger picture. You’re here because the Empire wouldn’t possibly trust a Pantoran to be anywhere with higher stakes.”

That earned him an actual snarl. Hah. If that was her reaction to such obvious bait, maybe Vano wasn’t quite as good as she thought she was.

“Clever little jabs, Akuna,” she hissed. “But it’s not going to distract me. This isn’t about my promotion, it’s about you. About why the agent responsible for marking Kestis let him fly away unsupervised. Why you were so desperate for Kestis to live in the first place. Why you have a child, who clearly belongs to you instead of Kestis’ crew.”

The mention of Kata almost made Bode snarl in return. Almost. Vano was dangerously close to the truth and he needed to shut this conversation down before she sniffed a modicum of weakness. “Are you done?” he asked. “Or are you going to continue to demand mission details to which you have no right?”

Vano stopped walking and released Bode’s arm. “Let’s make this simple,” she said, turning to face him head-on: a clear challenge. “Give me my answers, or I’ll contact my handlers and tell them that Bode Akuna let Cal Kestis slip through his fingers.”

Bode crossed his arms, the slightest concession to the fear that was clawing its way through his belly. He couldn’t have Vano contact anyone in the ISB. What happened at Nova Garon might very well have been covered up to protect Denvik’s reputation, at least on official channels, but he had no doubt that his own reputation lay in tatters. There would be half a dozen ISB operatives on his trail even now, scouring the galaxy for any mention of his whereabouts. A single whisper of his name from Vano, and the ISB would swarm this place like vulture droids, eager for payback.

The simplest solution would be to tell Vano that Cal was returning, and Bode's separation from the Mantis crew was both temporary and tactical. But there was the tiniest chance that Vano was fishing for information about Cal and his movements, and he didn't want to give her the chance to have a waiting party ready for Cal on his return. Suddenly, Bode was very, very glad that Cal hadn't told him where he was going. This time, Bode couldn't betray him even if he wanted to.

“The mission is too sensitive to share with an outsider,” he said. ”I can’t tell you any more without compromising efforts that have been years in the making.” He let a smile creep over his features; just the right blend of arrogant and conspiratorial. “Kestis is just the beginning. This is about breaking the Hidden Path into pieces so small it can’t ever be rebuilt. To that end, Kestis is small fry compared to the likes of Junda and Kawlan Roken.” He took a menacing step towards her, and was pleased when she flinched slightly. “If you can’t see the longer game here, it’s not my job to educate you - but I can assure you that any attempt to unbalance the plan will end badly for you. Very badly. Your patience and discretion, however…” He raised a meaningful brow. “Stay silent, and I will ensure you’re commended. But if you ever speak to me again without permission, I will contact my superiors and let them know how quick you were to risk your cover - and mine - to complain about your fragile fucking ego.”

Vano pressed her lips together, silent at last – thank fuck. There was a long pause, just shy of insubordinate, before her shoulders slumped and she said her goodbyes. Bode held back his sigh of relief until after she had left his sight. He headed straight to his and Kata's little room, locked the door behind him, then slumped against the wall with his hands pressed against his face. Every muscle in his body trembled with adrenaline, blood roaring through his veins. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

It wasn’t just that Vano was onto him. It wasn’t just that he had narrowly escaped blowing not only his identity and his location, but his relationship with Cal, wide fucking open. It was that Vano was here in the first place. Her existence was irrefutable proof that the Hidden Path was compromised – well, obviously it was compromised, because Bode had done it first, but Vano being here proved it wasn't just him. The Empire's reach went farther than even he'd suspected. 

And that meant that the place he, and even more importantly Kata, had started to call home, had been snatched out from under them. Again. His eyes burned beneath his hands. For the briefest of moments, he'd been safe. He'd dreamed about the new life the Hidden Path could create for him and Kata, and now…

Bode breathed in with deep gasps, trying to find a rhythm that wasn’t steeped in panic. He couldn’t fall apart like this. He had to think logically.

But what could he do? Speaking to the safehouse leaders was out of the question because Vano was one of them: it would be her word against his and, as she’d correctly surmised, he had nothing that could prove her treachery while she had years of hard-earned loyalty to commend her. Admitting that he used to be an Imperial spy would just be asking them to cast him out. Not to mention the fact that moving openly against her in any way would send her scurrying, suspicious, to her ISB handlers. Which would, at a minimum, reveal his location to the Empire. That left two options: fighting, or running.

If he could do it quietly enough, Bode fancied his chances in a fight. There was something savagely comforting in picturing Vano’s face bloodied and broken beneath his fists. It was the darkness talking, whispering temptations, but he couldn't help but lean into the vision. The lightsaber from Cal was under his pillow, sensibly hidden, and one thrust would put an end to her threats and her knowledge–

But how could he? The ease with which he'd torn through those soldiers on Nova Garon, alight with the power of the dark side, still weighed his shoulders down. He couldn’t let the darkness win again by convincing him that a repeat performance was the only way out. But how he wished he could do it: slaughter a path to safety, take Kata and a ship out into the expanse of open space. Find the Mantis, find Cal and–

And Cal, oh Cal. Cal would never condone those deaths. Cal had believed Bode could be better, and had given him that lightsaber as a declaration of fucking love; Bode couldn’t give it back to him if it was bloody with the consequences of Bode's fear. 

Bode squeezed his eyes shut and pictured Cal's face, bathed in starlight beneath the wing of the Mantis, soft and warm under his palm. Everything seemed so simple when they were twined around each other. It was only when they were apart that Bode's world unravelled, thread by fragile thread. For a moment he felt as small and young as Kata, wanting desperately to believe that Cal would save him - return back to the safehouse like an avenging hero to put an end to the villain and sweep Bode away to safety.

But it was a dream, and a stupid one. There was no guarantee when Cal would return from wherever the hell he’d gone. If he’d return. And Cal returning wouldn’t solve anything, it’d only make it worse, because Vano had his fucking number, and no matter how effectively Bode had just threatened her into submission, sooner or later she’d sniff out the damn truth.

So the only option that left him with was to run.

Bode groaned low, like an animal in pain. This sinking feeling in his chest was so familiar. This was… this was far too much like when Kata was young, when Tayala had still been alive. Hearing a rumour, smelling danger, getting a bad feeling that he couldn’t banish. Dropping everything and disappearing, not knowing where their heads would rest next. Living at Nova Garon had been awful in so many ways, but at least he’d never needed to be constantly looking over his shoulder, waiting for the next danger to come for him and his family because whatever else he’d done, Denvik had protected them. He’d needed that anchor point in his life so badly that he’d sold his soul to the ISB to keep it.

Bode had to brush prickling tears away from his eyes. He couldn’t go back to that life of rootless running, or cold imprisonment. Couldn’t drag Kata back to that life, because she deserved so much more. The way she’d lived these past few weeks - carefree and gleeful, spreading her wings after being freed from the prison that was Nova Garon - wasn’t something he ever wanted to take away from her again.

But if the Hidden Path was finished, then their carefree haven was doomed anyway. It didn’t matter how much Kata had spread her wings, if the Hidden Path was about to die around her in betrayal and flame. To protect her, he had to get her out of here before that happened. He had to prioritise Kata’s safety, because that was the only thing that mattered, screw everything and everyone else.

But - that was it, wasn't it? He hit his head back against the wall and laughed bitterly. That was why Merrin and Greez didn’t trust him, why even Cal hadn’t told him where the Hidden Path were making their home next. Because what he’d done time and time again was prioritise Kata’s safety over everything: his morals, his relationships, the good of anything else the galaxy had to offer.

And yet it had taken until this moment to see that, by protecting her, he had hurt her at the same time. Because, at the end of the day, her being ‘protected’ had ruined her opportunities for happiness and connection. He’d taken her to an Imperial stronghold to be used as a hostage, and had been planning to drag her to an empty Tanalorr to spend the rest of her life in beautiful isolation, because who cared about her loneliness and suffering as long as she was safe?

He felt sick with shame. How misguided he’d been, protecting her life while at the same time denying her the ability to live. If Bode gave up on the Hidden Path now, what hope was there for Kata to be truly happy? What chance was there for Bode to be happy, because he was sure if he left now he'd never see Cal again. Fleeing would mean they were alone, isolated and desperate, and no less hunted than they would be if he just… stayed. And fought for the future he wanted them all to have.

Bode walked out of his room with dry eyes, square shoulders and a plan. If he wasn't going to run, then he was just going to have to beat Vano at her own game.

—

“What do you mean you won’t take me?” Cal asked in disbelief.

“Hey, I know you looked after her for a couple of years, but let’s not forget that this is my ship,” Greez said, crossing both pairs of arms. “You want something less luxurious, go talk to Cere.”

Cere leaned around the corner from her usual spot by the comms and raised her eyebrows. “I already told him the Hidden Path can’t spare a ship just so he can go pick up his man.”

“I’m not just picking up–” Cal spluttered. This was far too much like the good old days, when everyone on the Mantis used to gang up on him any time he had a spontaneous idea. He pouted. Despite the loneliness of those years on his own, at least he hadn’t had anyone telling him where he could or couldn’t go. “It wouldn’t be too much of a detour to Pantora. Greez, I’d owe you–”

“You already owe me, kid,” Greez complained. “Jetpack can wait until after we’ve finished our supply run. Maybe we can even pick up something nice for the Pantorans while we’re there, make it a worthwhile trip.”

“Bode will be fine,” Cere said kindly.

“It has only been four days,” Merrin added in a bored voice. She lounged full-bodied on the couch, twiddling her knife between her fingers. “Perhaps you are worrying too much?”

Cal winced. If even Merrin wasn’t taking his side, then he was done for. Cere was right, Bode would be fine, but that didn’t stop Cal from driving himself crazy. As much as being on Bogano with the Mantis family had been a breath of fresh air, every extra day that he stayed away was another day that Bode thought Cal might never return.

“What will you do when you get there anyway?” Merrin asked. “Bode cannot join us on a Hidden Path mission. Will you retire with him? Put yourselves through the Path when he is the reason–”

“Oh no, we’re not opening this can of worms again,” Greez declared. He stepped between the two of them. “My ship, my rules, my mission. We’re doing a routine supply run and will not be stopping at Pantora. Cal, are you coming with us or not?”

Cal hesitated. After his ambitiously long walk with Cere the other day had made his leg seize up again, he’d been put on a full two days of enforced bed rest. He couldn’t afford to jeopardise his progress a second time by doing anything crazy, but this was just a short trip and he was desperate for something to do. Wise as Master Cordova was, staying on Bogano with just him for company wasn’t Cal’s idea of a good time. “I’ll come,” he said.

Greez threw up his hands. “Great. Then get on board and make yourself useful.”

“Oh, delightful,” Merrin said, while Cere hid a smile.  “We will get to hear more pining.” Merrin had stepped up her complaints against Bode in the last day or two, and Cal was almost certain it was because she’d accepted that Cal wasn’t going to give up on him, and just wanted to make him suffer before she finally gave him her blessing. 

Cal decided to lean into the game. He wheeled around and shot her a shit-eating grin. “Actually, Merrin, I was hoping you could help me with something while we’re in hyperspace. I started writing some poetry to give to Bode when I get back. It’s only fifteen verses so far, but I was thinking you could–” 

Merrin’s eyes went wide. She tumbled off the couch and fled into the bowels of the Mantis, Cal hot on her heels and grinning.

“Merrin? Merrin! What do you think is the best thing to rhyme with ‘Akuna’?”

Chapter Text

The morning sun scorched down, already hot despite the early hour. Bode sat in the middle of the courtyard with a mug of caf and closed his eyes, basking in the warmth. Several other residents were up already, milling around, so Bode made sure to give each one of them a cheerful ‘hello’ nod, or a sentence or two of conversation. That way, when the comms array in one of the outbuildings made a hideous grinding noise and started belching smoke out into the courtyard, he had plenty of witnesses who could say he'd been nowhere near it.

Bode leapt to his feet with the rest of the crowd, feigning concern. He waited just long enough to make sure that Vano was among the panicked Hidden Path members who rushed over, then slipped away. This old, clunky machinery always had a fault or seven waiting to happen; once they’d got the electrical fire under control, they would discover one rusty component had just worn away from its bracket and blown the capacitor. An easy, if tedious, fix, and, best of all, there would be absolutely no evidence of sabotage, nor the delicate, scentless compound that Bode had dripped onto it the night before to hasten the decay.

The door to Vano’s room was locked, but Bode had long since perfected the art of picking locks with the Force. When his targets were Jedi, he had to use the Force with the careful precision of a surgical scalpel, if at all, in case it gave him away; here he was free to use every skill at his disposal without worrying about being detected. The door slid open easily. Bode stepped inside, spreading his senses out to confirm that no one had seen him. 

Vano’s room was sparse and meticulously organised, as should be expected from any Imperial-trained agent, which meant he’d have to be especially diligent about putting everything back where he found it. There was one large window that backed onto the courtyard, but Bode had already checked that the glare from the sun would make it difficult for anyone to see inside unless they were peering straight through the glass. As long as he didn’t turn on any lights and kept this quick, he’d be alright. This safehouse was a secret operation, but, as Vano's success had shown, no one was expecting the threat to come from the inside.

He tried the Force first, running his awareness like soft fingertips over every nook, searching for – well, anything that stood out. But there was nothing. Perhaps if he had Cal's abilities, he'd be able to see where Vano's energy lay, retrace her steps as she plotted and pretended and channelled her intel back to the Empire. Not for the first time, Bode thought that Cal's gift of psychometry would have made him an excellent spy – although there were about a hundred thousand other reasons why he didn't want to imagine that scenario too closely. Cal was too loud, too brash, too unapologetically himself to even think about deliberate subterfuge, and…

And Bode didn’t want him to. Whatever else Bode couldn’t protect him from, he’d protect Cal from this, with everything he could spare.

The old-fashioned way, then. Bode pulled on his trusty gloves and got to work. He wasn’t exactly expecting Vano to have a giant neon banner hidden in a cupboard that said ‘long live the Emperor’, but a communicator or a datapad, or any kind of evidence of external communication would do it. Even signs that she’d covered up communication could be enough, if he played his cards right. He carefully picked through drawers, dipped his hands into pockets, and swept his gloved fingers under every surface he could find until–

Still nothing.

Bode swore under his breath. It had always been a long shot, and he wouldn’t be a good spy if he wasn’t good at patience. Perhaps Vano kept whatever she needed on her person, or in a different location entirely. If this was a normal mission, he'd be able to spend weeks building up a picture of her and her movements, tracking her habits and relationships and quirks, all to discover the real Vano behind the facade. But this wasn’t a normal mission, and every second he wasted here finding nothing was more time Vano had to run to the ISB and find out everything.

Even worse, he was battling his own demons as he worked. Ever since his brush with the dark side on Nova Garron, his own fear had been crouched in the back of his throat, hair-triggered. Now the flare of frustration ignited within him, and it left him raw and battered. Bode heaved in a breath and reined himself in. This wasn’t the time or place to lose his head. He would regroup, and try again.

Bode left the room exactly how he found it and went to go find something else to be seen doing.

—

That afternoon, Bode found Kata talking to Vano.

Everyone was inside again, hiding from the heat, and the only communal space available was the large chamber where the residents all ate together. Both children – Kata and her Pantoran friend – were playing some kind of game in the corner, and it looked from the outside like Vano was offering them nothing more than some friendly pointers.

Maybe Doctor Vano would have done just that, but ISB agent Vano definitely had ulterior motives.

Bode stiffened, his first instinct being to barge over and tell Vano to get the fuck away from his daughter. But that would be far too obvious, wouldn’t it? Kata was by far the biggest hole in Bode’s story, because she was clearly his; he couldn’t hide how Kata laughed at the world with a smile that looked exactly like his own, and what kind of ISB agent brought his own child with him into the field, even as part of his cover? If Vano ever found out that Kata was Force-sensitive, then the few remaining pieces of the puzzle would drop into place, and there could be no doubt left about Bode’s abandonment of the Empire.

Still, he couldn’t let her be near Kata. So Bode just… made himself known. He slipped into a seat beside some Pantorans and put his hand on his chin, watching closely. When Vano’s eyes flickered over to him, her expression didn’t change, but she finished her conversation quickly and left, letting Kata and her friend resume their game.

“It’s nice to see them playing, isn’t it?” someone asked Bode, and it took him a few moments to realise that he’d been caught staring.

Kata’s friend’s parents sat opposite him at the table: Churi and Avara, both Pantorans of middling age, and both mechanics, though Bode knew nothing more about them than that. There were any number of reasons why they might be hiding from the Empire, from some level of Force-sensitivity in their own family, to simple anti-Imperial sentiments. Or perhaps one of them had just looked at a stormtrooper wrong one day, and they’d had to leave their whole life behind because of it. Bode sat up straighter and tore his eyes away from Kata to twist his face into a relaxed smile. “Yeah. Good to see them happy,” he agreed.

Churi and Avara exchanged a look, and then Churi leaned across the table to pat Bode on the arm. He had to fight not to flinch from the touch.

“It gets easier,” Churi said. “The fear. The need to keep her close, at all times.”

Bode bit back a bitter laugh. “That obvious, huh?” He’d thought he was already better at letting Kata out of his sight, just because he did it at all. Another twist in his gut; if his protective instincts looked excessive to these two, then what did it look like to Vano?

“It will come,” Avara added. “You’ve been here such a short time. We’ve been here almost six months. It’s taken about that long to realise that we’re safe. We don’t need to look over our shoulders anymore.”

You poor fools, Bode thought. Their intentions were kind, but if Bode was still steeped in fear for himself and Kata, it was because he had to be. That false sense of security was exactly what Vano wanted everyone here to feel. Who knew how many people had been channelled through this safehouse, only for Vano to set the Empire on their trail once they left? How many families like this one?

“Safe or not,” Bode said instead. “I’m still going to keep her close.”

“Of course.” Avara sipped from her mug and looked over towards the two girls. “Whatever you need to do. Like Churi said, it takes time to accept safety, and you can go at your own pace here.”

Fear loved company – Bode knew he would feel much better if the other residents were as cautious as he was of the threat that Vano posed. But how could he tell them? They were civilians, not allies; that knowledge would just put them more in danger.

Another touch on his arm made Bode jump – but it was just Kata. (She was still the only one, apart from Cal, who could sneak up on Bode unsensed.) Her smile had faded into a look of deep concern, her brow etched deeply in a way that no seven year old’s should be. 

“I know you’re still worried, Papa, but it’s okay,” she said, patting his arm again. That was a little habit she'd picked up from BD-1, and it made a lump start to form in Bode's throat. “Greez said we don't have to be frightened anymore, and so does Ranovi.” She pointed to her playmate, who smiled shyly and waved from a few paces away.

Bode forced a smile. “They’re right, sweetheart. There’s no need to worry.” Not for you, he thought. That’s my job, because it's the only way I'm going to keep you safe. 

But Kata's frown only deepened. “Papa,” she scolded, voice rising with all the gravitas and self-righteousness she could muster. “Why are you lying? I can feel it inside you, you–” 

“That’s enough, Kata.” Bode's stomach lurched. Whatever Kata needed to say, it couldn’t be right here, in front of other residents that Bode didn't know whether he could trust or not. Not here, where there was every chance Vano could find a way to listen. “Let’s go for a walk.” He grabbed Kata's hand and pulled her away, not even stopping to look back at Avara and Churi, who must have known what Kata was inadvertantly confessing to. 

Kata went obediently, and that made Bode's heart ache. Even when she felt safe – safe enough to try and talk to him about things she knew he didn't want her talking about – she still knew enough to be quiet and still when Bode demanded it of her.

He didn't take them to their rooms; that was too obvious a place for Vano to bug (and he’d have done the same to her room if he’d had the tech to do so). Instead he found a quiet corner in the courtyard, their backs to the wall that separated the safehouse from the city, and sat them both down in front of it.

“I said something wrong, didn’t I?” Kata asked preemptively, her head bowed. “I’m sorry.”

Bode sighed and pulled her into his arms. He couldn't hide anything from her anymore, could he? Not if she could read it in his emotions. Trust the spy to accidentally raise an empath. “It’s okay sweetheart, and it’s not wrong. It’s just… We just need to be careful when we talk about sensing other people’s emotions – not everyone has that ability and it makes us stick out. Not always in a good way.”

“Yes, Papa.” Kata’s head was still bowed. It made her look so small and crumpled and young that Bode’s guts squeezed again. 

He reached for her and took her hands gently in his. When she looked up he made sure to smile at her, the real one that reached his eyes and looked so much like her own. At last, she smiled back at him, and he felt brave enough to say, “You can tell me now, though. Tell me what you felt.”

Kata hesitated, searching Bode’s face with a wariness that was far too old for her young features. “You’re afraid. And Cal says it’s bad to do things out of fear. That’s what damages you on the inside.”

Bode tried not to let his inner conflict show on his face, even if Kata could probably sense it. On the one hand, it was lovely that Cal had tried to talk to Kata about the dark side. On the other hand, Cal just couldn’t help being such a fucking Jedi, could he? Apart from fairytales when she was very young, Bode had barely spoken to Kata about the Force at all, let alone the possibility that she might wield it one day, because he’d hoped and hoped she would never need to know.

But… Well, they were already past that point, weren't they?

Bode chose his next words carefully. “These things you see and feel, they're a real gift. Part of what makes you special. But sometimes it can be dangerous to share those gifts with other people. Do you understand?” Bode’s memories of a childhood at the Jedi temple were so carefree, where the Force was worn on the sleeve and no one had anything to hide; he didn’t know whether it was fair, or even possible, to ask her to conceal it.

Kata fidgeted. “Are you afraid of me, Papa?” she asked.

“Afraid of you?” Bode surprised himself with a laugh. “You're going to have to get a lot bigger before that happens, little star.”

Kata giggled at that, but it faded too soon. “Why are you afraid then?” 

“Sometimes fear is a good thing,” Bode said. “It keeps us alert, it keeps us alive.”

“But?” Kata asked, preempting again. 

Bode sighed. “But we can't get lost in it, or let it control us. I'm sorry for all the times I have. I'm trying to be better, but it's hard.”

“Me too,” Kata said. “I’m sorry. I’m trying to be better, Papa.”

“You've got nothing to apologise for.” Bode drew her closer, resting his chin on top of her head. “One day you’ll be free to be yourself, without fear.”

“And you too?”

Bode smiled. “Maybe. Would you like to try something? Sometimes it’s possible to share emotions with people deliberately. Shall we have a go?”

When Kata nodded, Bode closed his eyes. Just briefly. Just enough to break down the barriers that kept his Force presence hidden and reach out. Kata, by contrast, was an open door: a pool of untapped potential and natural ability, wild and untamed. Her emotions were a tangle. She was trying so desperately to push them down, so Bode gave them a little nudge and everything came tumbling out: she wanted to be safe, she wanted to be able to trust others, she wanted to live a normal life. In the desperate honesty of her young mind, she wished and wished and wished for courage, so Bode gave it to her. He squeezed her tight and poured strength and resilience into the gaps left by fear. I will protect you, he promised. I will give you the life that you deserve.

When the rush of their connection receded, Kata was sobbing into his shirt, happy and a little overwhelmed. Bode had to brush tears away from his own eyes too. He glanced up at the courtyard, but everything had happened far too quickly for anyone to notice.

“I didn’t know you could do that,” Kata said, her voice full of wonder.

Bode kissed the top of her head. “I’m not going to hide from you anymore,” he promised. “We’ve got a long way to go, but one day you’ll be able to do so much more.”

Kata’s eyes filled with tears again and she threw herself into another hug. “You’ll teach me? Thank you, thank you, thank you!”

Bode smiled. She’d always known, hadn’t she? Like everything else about Kata, Bode had always been just one step behind. He was happy to spend the rest of his life catching up.

—

In the middle of the night, Bode woke up drowning. The darkness pressed its heel into his throat and he choked, unable to breathe. It took him several long moments to wrestle air back into his lungs, and then another few to realise that the darkness wasn’t coming from him. 

Trying to slow his heartbeat, Bode stretched out his senses. This wasn’t him, and it wasn’t a nightmare. It was a warning. Something was coming. The certainty was a chill across the back of his neck, a thrill of adrenaline in newly-woken muscles. Kata was still sleeping in her bed next to him, peacefully unaware, so Bode drew Cal’s lightsaber out from under his pillow, dragged on some shoes and slipped out the door. The safehouse slumbered around him, dark and quiet, but the Force didn’t send a message like that unless something was very, very wrong.

On silent feet, Bode made his way out of their building and into the passages of the safehouse. Dread stalked his footsteps. Bode followed his instincts and wasn’t at all surprised to find himself outside Vano’s door. He used the Force to open the lock again and flung the door open. The time for subtlety had passed a long time ago.

Vano looked up, startled. Unlike earlier, the room was a mess, the majority of her possessions now strewn across the bed, half-packed into a large bag. Vano was leaving. And a spy entrenched this deeply in an operation didn’t abandon her post unless she was pulled out in preparation for something worse.

“What the fuck have you done?” Bode asked, voice low.

“Sensed something, did you?” She bared her teeth at him in a cruel semblance of a smile. “Well, look at that. A Jedi hiding in plain sight at the ISB – even I’ve got to admit that’s bold.”

Vano’s eyes darted to the door, so Bode stepped inside and flicked his fingers to lock it again behind him. There was no point in trying to hide now. The darkness was back. It pounded around his ears, mingling with the strangler-vines of fear in his chest. “What have you done?” Bode repeated. 

“What I had to do. My job.” Vano stood from the bed, her movement casual, but Bode didn't miss the twitch of her hand behind her hip. Metal glinted between her fingers: a blade, or a blaster, or something just as deadly. “I got a message out to my handler, and they had some very interesting things to say about you. Tell me, did you betray the Empire before or after you killed all those Jedi?”

“After,” Bode snarled. He didn't have to use the Force to call Cal's lightsaber into his hand, but he did it anyway, just to make the point. “In case you had any doubts about my ability to kill you.”

“Oh, come on, big boy,” Vano pouted. “We talked about what would happen if you tried.”

“Who is coming?” Bode snapped, trying to hide the swirling, screaming darkness rising inside him. It was too late. Vano had beaten him at the game, discovered the truth of him too quickly for him to expose hers, and now she’d called down who-knew-what hell on this place, while Bode faltered like an idiot. And she was right; he couldn’t even call for help because what if this – barging into her room at night, lightsaber drawn – was the thing that turned the safehouse residents against him?

Kill her now, the fear within him hissed. Now, before it’s too late.

But the same fear that demanded her blood also stayed his hand. What if killing Vano tipped him over the edge of that dark chasm, until even Cal couldn't stand to be near him again? What if the rage and fear and anger inside him finally took hold and he lost Kata, abandoning her to suffer for his mistakes, again and again and again?

“Who. Is. Coming?” he repeated, teeth gritted. He couldn’t get lost in himself now. This was bigger than him, bigger even than Kata.

“Don’t you know?” Vano smirked. “Even if I did tell you – which I won’t – there’s nothing you can do about it. They’ll be here soon, very soon, and this place? Poof.” She fluffed out the fingers of her free hand. “All thanks to you.”

Bode’s hand tightened on the saber, so hard it started to shake. The Force was still clamouring out its warning. If he was being honest with himself, he already knew what was on its way, even if he didn’t know exactly who.

He’d spent the last almost-decade of his life making decisions based on two factors alone: Kata’s protection, and his own survival so he could continue to keep her safe. No longer. Now every single person here was in real and imminent danger: Churi and Amara, their daughter Ranovi, and everyone else here at the safehouse who’d welcomed him and Kata like family. They were all in the firing line because Bode’s carelessness had called the Empire straight to their door.

Vano, of course, saw his moment of weakness and pounced. She drew the blaster from behind her hip, levelling it with almost supernatural speed. She was skilled, yes, but Bode was faster. He had already ignited the lightsaber in his own defence before he realised she wasn't aiming at him. Instead, the window shattered under a hail of bolts. Vano threw herself through the shards of glass and outside, landing in the courtyard with a practised roll. When Bode rushed to the window, she fired back at him, the shots deafeningly loud against the quiet night. Parrying blaster bolts without the rush of power from the dark side was slow and clunky, and Bode felt every year that he’d neglected his training. Then the shots stopped, and by the time the dazzle of the blade and bolts faded from his vision, Vano was gone.

Bode hoisted himself out through the shattered pane, and dropped to the ground below. Glass crunched under his feet. Lights flashed on in the windows around the courtyard, and a flurry of raised voices sounded. The safehouse was waking up, drawn by the sounds of shots and shouts and running feet. Silhouetted bodies emerged from lit doorways into the courtyard, and before Bode could get his bearings a small crowd had formed.

“What happened?” someone asked, voice quavering. At least ten different people were shining lights in Bode’s face. He shrank away, but it was too late to pretend he’d had nothing to do with the ruckus.

Everyone was staring at him, and it took Bode a couple of moments to realise that it was because he was still holding a lit lightsaber. Oh, this was bad, this was very bad. Bode didn’t sign up to be responsible for these people, and the only version of this scenario he had allowed himself to entertain was them turning on him. But now… now, damn it, these people saw a Jedi and thought that meant they were safe.

At least it gave him a hope in hell of convincing them that he wasn’t the villain here. “Vano was with the Empire,” he panted, not quite sure when he’d got so out of breath. There was nothing left but the truth. “She reported this facility to the Empire, and they’re on their way now. Everyone needs to leave immediately.”

The crowd murmured, and Bode saw shock and dismay mixed with a smattering of disbelief. He scanned their faces, trying to find Churi and Amara, but either they weren’t there or he couldn’t spot them.

“Where is Kata?” he asked, his voice shaking despite his best efforts. “Has anyone seen her?”

“I’m here, Papa!” Kata said, running towards him in her nightclothes, feet bare. With a rush of relief, Bode swept her off the ground and into his arms. Her heart beat against his, solid and steady. He buried his face in his daughter’s hair and took the first full breath since he woke up, then he steadied himself and looked up to face the crowd.

“Listen to me,” Bode said, cutting through the hubbub. “I know Vano was a valued member of this community. I know she won your trust. But she was ISB, a plant that has been working for years to sell information to the Empire. I have no reason to lie to you, or to warn you like this. I’m no hero, but I am a father, and a refugee of the Empire like so many of you. We’ve lost enough, all of us. So believe me when I say that, unless we evacuate this place immediately, we are going to lose everything, including our lives.”

He looked out into a sea of ashen faces. This might be the Hidden Path, but no one here had real experience fighting the Empire, did they? They ran their little safehouse, took refugees along the Path and slipped unseen under the radar (or so they thought), but most had never looked a firing squad in the eye or fought their way out of a corner with nothing but their bare hands and an empty prayer. They might understand the violence that was descending upon them from the skies, but knew only how to run, not fight.

And it wasn't them the Empire wanted, not really. It was Bode.

He knew what he had to do, and he hated it. “I’m not just a refugee, I’m a fugitive. I am the reason Vano called this danger here. I’ll fight them off to buy you time. But you have to get out of here, all of you. As quickly as you can. I…I won’t be able to delay them forever.”

There were no objections. A lone Jedi barely stood a chance against the horror the Empire was sending, let alone untrained civilians. Bode finally spotted Churi and Amara, and relief coursed through him.

He hitched Kata a little higher on his hip and angled his head to speak to her directly. “You need to go with Churi and Amara.”

Her little arms tightened around his neck. “But Papa–”

“No! Listen to me, please.” Bode pressed his lips to Kata's forehead. “Please. You're so brave, and so good. But we don't win this one by running.” He’d run from the Purge, run from the Inquisitor that came for him on Birren, run from Cal as soon as he knew there was something beautiful between them. This time, he was staying, and no one else was going to get hurt because of his cowardice.

Kata's face was white, but she didn't cry or struggle as Bode placed her back down and ushered her towards the Pantorans. Churi grabbed Kata's hand, whispered a small comfort, then looked back at Bode with something like sadness and gratitude. It wasn't a look Bode was used to seeing. 

“Don't tell me where you're going,” Bode said. “Leave your possessions, don't look back, and don't stop running until you know you're safe. Go!”

He didn’t stay to watch them leave; he couldn’t bear to, and the swirling darkness was still howling at him, insisting there was no time to waste. Instead Bode went straight to the armoury, broke the lock with the lightsaber and grabbed what he could. Choice was limited and there was obviously no jetpack; his half-remembered Shien saberwork paired with a blaster or two would have to do.

He took as much time selecting weapons as he could stand, until he could no longer hear or sense other presences in the safehouse. By the time he returned to the courtyard, it was deserted and quiet. He didn’t have Cal’s psychometry, but he swore he felt Kata for just a second; heard her voice, vivid in her grief.

Bode took a deep breath. Then he ignited the lightsaber, looked at the sky, and waited for the Inquisitor to come to him.

Chapter Text

Bode knelt. He hadn’t meditated in years, but he remembered how to breathe.

In and out, deep and steady, a regular and deliberate rhythm. He breathed through the whipping wind that announced the Inquisitor’s ship’s arrival, breathed as the ramp hissed down from a door illuminated in red, and breathed through the bone-deep thunk-thunk-thunk of the double unit of Purge troopers marching down to surround the courtyard, electro-weapons live and crackling.

They didn’t attack him, and Bode knew they wouldn’t dare: his rest and stillness in defiance of their might spoke far louder than any threat.

He only moved when the Inquisitor finally appeared: a masked shadow who swept from the ship with an arrogance only the dark side could bestow.

It was a clever trick: everyone always thought that an Inquisitor’s primary weapon was their lightsaber. It wasn’t. It was fear. The black and silver mask, the branded armour, the red blade that whirred into a thrumming circle; the nauseating aura of darkness that reached like spider’s legs towards Bode in the Force, sticky and clinging; the overwhelming sense of foreboding that had woken him well before the Inquisitor arrived. All designed to defeat an opponent long before the fight even began.

Well, Bode knew fear. Knew it intimately, as both its master and its servant. And while this Inquisitor looked like a nightmare given sentience, stalking down the ship’s ramp towards him, it was no worse than any of the demons of his own making. Bode lifted his chin and watched with wary eyes, Cal’s lightsaber already lit in his hand, a bright clear blue compared to the sick red blade of his enemy. He stayed on his knees, squared his shoulders and defiantly wasn’t afraid.

“Jedi Knight Bode Akuna. We meet at last.” The Inquisitor reached the bottom of the ramp. Their voice twisted through a modulator in that grotesque helmet, making it impossible to guess species, age, gender or anything else that might humanise them. “You are under arrest for treason against the Empire. Do you surrender?”

Bode made sure his surprise didn’t show on his face. He had assumed this would be an execution: Vader’s dog sent to eliminate the threat Bode posed to Imperial pride. An attempted arrest was a different story. Puzzle pieces swirled and clicked together in his mind; the animosity between the ISB and the Inquisitorius ran deep – so not only was it a testament to how Bode’s utter annihilation of Nova Garon must have terrified the ISB into asking Vader for help, but it also meant that the Inquisitorius were so impressed with his use of the dark side that they considered him a worthy candidate for recruitment.

Hah.

Too bad Bode had no intention of letting them take him alive. 

No, there was only one way this encounter was going to end: with a clash of red against blue until one of them lay smoking on the ground. Bode counted the paces between him and the Inquisitor, and weighed up his options. On the one hand, to respond was to provide the Inquisitor with a foothold, a chink in his armour. On the other, the longer they exchanged verbal barbs, the longer Kata and the rest of the Hidden Path had to find somewhere safe to lay low until this was all over.

“You show great bravery.” The Inquisitor prowled another step closer, apparently amused by Bode’s hesitation. “Perhaps you do not fear me, but I sense great fear in your heart.”

“I know my fears.” Bode’s voice rang out loud and steady across the courtyard. “But I don’t let them consume me like yours do.”

The Inquisitor's helmet quirked to the side, and Bode could only imagine the sly expression beneath. “You should let them. There is great power in the dark side.”

Such simple words, but oh, Bode could taste their promise. Now more than ever, the dark side sang its siren song through every vein and sinew. Bode had felt that power already; had sailed on the reckless, unquenchable wings of it as he’d slaughtered hundreds on Nova Garon. He could still remember that endless well of murderous energy, and how easily all his enemies had dissolved into burned flesh and molten metal.

He braved a glance at the Purge troopers, standing still and impervious around the courtyard – at least for now. They were so silent it was as if they were merely statues observing this confrontation, not marking out the deadly boundaries of a soon-to-be battleground. He was lucky that Inquisitors had too much pride to let an underling interfere in a one-on-one fight. Still, it was a grim reminder of the inevitability of his own defeat. Even on the slim chance that he managed to kill this Inquisitor, he’d be left exhausted and spent: the perfect sitting duck for the Purge troopers to quickly finish off.

Unless, of course, he called on the darkness once more. The Inquisitor wasn’t lying; the dark side offered power Bode couldn’t hope to match in any other way without it, especially given his many years denying the Jedi he used to be. Power that could help him survive this encounter.

But – what use was surviving if not all of him made it through?

Slowly, Bode stood, putting himself on the same level as the Inquisitor at last. Last time, he'd teetered over the black hole of his own darkness and not fallen. Wavered, yes, but not fallen. He'd clawed his way back out using Cal as an anchor, a lifeline of love and understanding Bode hadn't expected and certainly hadn't earned.

That fluke wouldn’t happen twice. Cal was parsecs away, and Bode didn’t deserve one redemption, let alone two. This time, he wouldn't get a chance at salvation if he succumbed.

No. There was no space for the darkness, for the fear the Inquisitor talked about. This wasn’t a fight Bode could win – but when the Inquisitor inevitably killed him, then he would die with his heart intact, and to save the people he loved.

And that almost felt like a victory.

“If you’re so certain,” Bode flipped the saber into a reverse grip and flashed a confident smile that he at least half-felt, “prove it then.”

“Very well.” The Inquisitor brought the red blade up and inclined their head in Bode's direction. “Let’s begin.”

The ferocity of the attack wasn't what took Bode by surprise; it was the control. Whoever this Inquisitor was, or used to be, their training had been thorough. The lightsabers clashed, sparks flying, and Bode's muscles jarred painfully at the raw power behind the blow. A split second later, the Inquisitor struck again, and again, and again, moving so rapidly through offensive forms that Bode could barely block them, let alone retaliate. He just about parried swings that would have cut him in half, relying on rusty muscle memory and sheer bloody-mindedness to survive from one breath to the next. Each time, the Inquisitor withdrew almost instantly, then attacked again, giving Bode no respite and forcing him into taking one step back after another.

And the battle was more than physical: the corrupted kyber crystal in his opponent's lightsaber sent waves of nausea through Bode's body, sapping his strength with every second that passed. The darkness dug into his chest like claws, trying to expose the fear-panic-doubt that Bode had so carefully buried before the fight. He had fought Separatists, and bounty hunters, and all kinds of Republic and Imperial scum before, but never someone who wielded the dark side like a secondary weapon. He was fighting on two fronts: body and soul.

The red blade slipped past Bode's defences and found an opening. For the tiniest moment, the Inquisitor was so sure of victory that they paused to savour it, giving Bode the chance to flinch away. Instead of cutting him open, the blade only sizzled a burnt line across the front of his shirt. The Inquisitor let out a thwarted growl, and Bode took advantage of the momentary hesitation to scramble out of range, putting several paces between them again. He adjusted his guard and squared his feet once more, ready for– 

But the Inquisitor just straightened up and looked at him, unreadable under that ghoulish mask. “You are skilled,” they said, almost sounding impressed, “but unpractised. You do not have to die. There is still a chance to surrender.”

“Save your breath,” Bode snapped, teeth gritted against the stinging burn across his chest. Surrender meant giving up, and going back into the service of the same Empire he'd just broken free of – worse, even, because to become an Inquisitor was to lose every part of himself he had left. “I've already given you my answer.”

“If you insist.” With a shrug of indifference, the Inquisitor met him with another swing of their saber and they descended into chaos again. Bode’s limbs were shaking, his lungs heaving, his mouth full of the taste of blood. The Inquisitor wasn’t even tiring; every blow struck just as hard as the one before it, and the infinitesimal span of luck that had kept Bode alive this long was shrinking with each passing moment. 

But despite that – despite everything – Bode's heart sang. Maybe it was just the adrenaline talking, or whatever part of Cal flowed into the Force from his lightsaber, but for the first time in a long time, Bode felt like a Jedi again. This is how he should have stood up to the Inquisitor who came for his family, all those long years ago on Birren. This is what he should have been doing instead of cowering behind Denvik's costly protection, as if serving the galaxy's horrors was any safer than fighting them. This time, Kata and Cal were both safe, and–

“Ah,” the Inquisitor said, and beneath all that modulation lay a glimmer of smugness. “Your thoughts betray you. Your daughter still lives. And you've taken another lover to replace the one you lost. How very unlike a Jedi.”

Bode blanched before he could stop himself – it was hard enough to keep a tight rein on his own emotions, let alone to have his feelings for Kata and Cal plucked wholesale from his head. He opened his mouth to say something, then snapped it shut again. This is what Inquisitors were trained to do, wasn’t it? To poke and prise, and place words like barbs under your skin until you cracked.

The next lightsaber strike was hard enough to shake Bode to his core. The blades locked together: red against blue. Bode grunted as the Inquisitor bore down on him, one knee hitting the ground as he struggled to hold out against the crushing surge of power, both muscle and Force. 

“Perhaps I will take you alive after all,” the Inquisitor mused, leaning in until their entire body weight was behind their lightsaber. “It would be a delight to demonstrate why your dead Order counselled against attachments: those who have them are that much easier to break. And you, Bode Akuna, will break beautifully.”

Bode couldn’t reply, couldn’t spare the breath or the energy to force more words out. His arms screamed under the pressure, and both lightsabers burned close enough to feel their searing heat against his chest and neck. All he could do was bare his teeth in defiance, and hold out as long as he could. There was no point in pretending he didn't have attachments in a way that would have seen the old Jedi Order cast him out in a heartbeat – he did. But Kata and Cal weren't the things that stood in the way of his path back to the light: they were the path itself.

“I see the idea of your own torture and pain does not unnerve you,” the Inquisitor said, still in that light, musing tone. “Perhaps the threat of finding your daughter and lover won’t be enough. Perhaps I will need to bring them in, and hurt them instead. And I’ll give you no choice but to watch.”

“You'll die first,” Bode tried to snarl, but the words came out choked and weak. It was too much. His body was failing him, and the Inquisitor's taunts burrowed beneath his defences, cracking him open along old, barely-healed scars. Just like Denvik, just like Vano, just like any Imperial he'd ever had the displeasure of meeting: they looked at everyone who was precious to Bode and saw nothing but things to exploit.

“Good.” The Inquisitor inhaled deeply, and although Bode couldn’t see the smile beneath that helmet, he felt it there: a smug shadow steeped in the dark side of the Force. “Very good. Show me the depths of your anger. Give in and you can protect them.”

Bode shuddered in spite of himself because he knew it was true. He could carve caverns out of his own heart, jump into that endless black pool of hatred – and Kata and Cal would be safe, only to shiver in the shadow of his darkness, unable to look him in the eye. But with the red lightsaber bearing down on him, sparks smattering his skin with pinprick scars, it would be so easy to reach inside himself and–

The Inquisitor twisted their lightsaber, and Bode's hands closed on nothing but air. Cal’s blade flew free from his grip, landing several steps away. The red saber settled just beneath his throat, sparks singeing his stubble. Pinned on his knees, Bode went deathly still.

“Fascinating. The dark side waits for you, yet still you refuse to use it. Even to save your own life.”

Bode glared into the helmet's obsidian visor as though his ire alone could melt it away. If this was the end, then he would die as he'd lived: giving everything to make sure the people he loved were safe.

The Inquisitor lowered their saber casually, as though they were merely chatting and Bode posed no threat at all. The red blade left a pebble-dash of singe marks on Bode’s vulnerable throat. “Why spend your life running, when you could instead strike down those who hunt you?”

Bode closed his eyes. Recentred himself. Breathed. He thought of Cal: the softness of his hands as he pulled Bode away from the edge of that black hole, back towards the light. The trust that shone in his eyes, dissipating the bloodlust in Bode's. The ‘I-love-you’, and the lightsaber passed over like a declaration, and every promise he'd ever made to see Bode again. 

And Kata. Her fierce determination to live the life that had been given to her, that reminded Bode so much of Cal. The joy that flowed freely through her at the thought of being able to embrace her own potential in the Force. That devastated look on her face as she'd walked away with Churi and Amara, without the luxury of being able to say a proper goodbye.

He loved them. The anger that stirred in his chest at the Inquisitor's threats wasn't born of the dark side: it was born of love and, above all, the desire to protect. So how could it be wrong? 

“No. You can’t touch them.” Bode opened his eyes. For the first time in his life, he had to trust that Cal and Kata were both beyond the Empire's reach, because to think otherwise was to invite fear. He had to trust. "You can’t take anything else from me.”

Bode took a deep, steadying breath. Before he could take another, that red blade flashed in his face again. Bode froze, and the lightsaber found its place against his throat once more. 

“Why do you think I need them?” the Inquisitor asked, “when you've already lost so much?”

“If you're going to kill me,” Bode said calmly, ignoring the burn of the lightsaber against his throat, aware that the slightest movement from either of them would see it cut into soft flesh, “get on with it."

The Inquisitor turned their head, ever so slightly, and a bubble of sinister satisfaction flared in the Force. Bode's stomach clenched with new dread. “Do remind me of your wife's name,” the Inquisitor said, and this time Bode could hear the vicious smile behind the words. “Because all I remember is how sweetly she screamed when I killed her.”

Everything froze. Silence filled Bode's ears, only to be replaced a split second later with a loud ringing that drowned everything else out.

No. That was impossible. 

Impossible. 

There was no time to temper his reaction: logic was no match for this old, deep wound that had stubbornly refused to heal. The cracks opened by the Inquisitor’s words tore into chasms. Bode screamed and the Force answered: all the hurt and anger and grief he'd been holding onto for years burst out in a whirlwind. It hit the Inquisitor like an ion explosion, sending them staggering backwards, and even the Purge troopers around the edges of the courtyard had to dig their heels in to avoid getting blown away.

Bode lurched to his feet and called Cal’s lightsaber back into his hand. Dimly, he was aware of the walls he'd so carefully built around his own darkness crumbling into nothing. Power roared into his veins, fuelled by a blind rage that Bode couldn’t find the strength to stand in the way of.

And even if he could, why would he want to? This Inquisitor was the one who'd murdered Tayala, who'd hunted him all across the Inner Rim and destroyed the closest thing he’d ever had to a family. Who'd hammered the stake of fear into his heart that had driven him into the open arms of the ISB. 

And Tayala… 

Tayala wasn't like Cal – she hadn't been a Jedi or an insurgent or a threat to the Empire in any way. The only reason she'd been killed was because she'd loved her husband. The person who was responsible for that deserved nothing less than Bode's wrath.

Bode swung his lightsaber, and this time when the blades connected, the Inquisitor was the one who flinched. Blood boiled in Bode's veins. He threw himself at the Inquisitor with a bellow that echoed around the courtyard, and with enough force to push the Inquisitor into a backwards step. 

This was revenge. This was redemption. He should have been there. He should have stayed to fight on Birren, to protect Tayala from the monster who took her life. Fighting the same Inquisitor now was his one chance to wrestle from the universe what was fucking owed him for years upon years of pain.

“Your anger makes you strong,” the Inquisitor said gleefully, parrying Bode's strikes with grunts of effort that only fed the bloodlust coursing through Bode's veins. “Embrace it! Use it! Strike me down if you're able!”

Bode only growled and threw himself into another series of unrelenting strikes. No more words. They had shown no mercy to Tayala, so Bode would give no quarter now. He hacked and slashed with a strength that he didn't recognise, with a viciousness that should have taken him aback. He wanted it to hurt – needed it to hurt. He had to make sure the Inquisitor experienced the same fear that Tayala had, the same pain, the same helplessness. The anger was fuel, burning like an eternal sun, and Bode kept coming.

The Inquisitor was laughing openly now, despite the fact that Bode was slowly starting to gain the upper hand. “Your passion commends you. You will serve the Empire well.”

“I serve no one,” Bode snarled. Using a power and precision he shouldn't have, he flexed his fingers and closed the Force around the Inquisitor’s helmet like a fist. With a splintering thunderclap, the entire thing cracked from crown to chin. The Inquisitor stumbled blindly, finally caught off-guard, and it was easy work for Bode to step in, and slash his blade across their body.

The lightsaber sizzled through flesh, and the Inquisitor howled.

The sound of her screams – she was definitely female, now that there was no modulator to hide her true voice – echoed and echoed and echoed until Bode couldn't tell whether it was coming from her or inside his own head. The darkness beat its clawed fists against his heart, telling him to finish the job, finish the job, finish the job, but–

But how could he listen to it? How could he notice anything other than the fact that her screams sounded exactly like Tayala?

“Congratulations,” the Inquisitor choked out from where she slumped on the ground, her voice thick and strained against the agony of blackened flesh. “You win.”

No. No one won from this. Bode sank to his knees alongside her. The stench of burnt flesh filled his nostrils, and his stomach heaved with the sudden viscerality of what he'd done. For a split second, he wasn't on Pantora anymore, but Birren. Not an ISB plant, or an assassin, or a traitor, but a husband on his knees, hands greasy with ash as he dug desperately through the remains of a burnt-out house for his wife's body. 

The lightsaber slipped from Bode's grip onto the ground, blade retracting. With her hand clasped against the cauterised flesh across her torso, the Inquisitor couldn't reach for it, and Bode could only let it lie.

“For as long as you’re a slave to your anger,” the Inquisitor said, so quietly that Bode almost couldn't hear her, “you serve the Empire. Yours will never leave you. We can both feel it.”

“No,” Bode whispered. The darkness still thrummed inside him: dulled by shock and numbed by horror because he'd gone where he'd sworn not to go, and what would Cal think when he saw it inside him again? – but not gone. Never gone. The Inquisitor was right that it was far, far too late to stop the spread of it. “Please. I'd rather die.”

“You will.” The Inquisitor watched him closely. Through the gaps in the cracked helmet, Bode could see hooded dark eyes, glinting with a mixture of pain and malice. “Death will be your only reprieve. It's too late to choose another path.”

Bode risked a glance at the Purge troopers. They hadn’t moved from their silent watch around the courtyard, and that chilled Bode as much as the Inquisitor's words. They had all just been waiting for him to get angry enough to win. That had been the whole point of this sorry exercise – to whittle Bode down to just his anger and hatred until he lost all the parts of himself that he cherished. To prepare him for what came next.

Recruitment, indeed. Was that how this game worked? The Inquisitorius sent an existing agent to either eliminate the Jedi threat, or die to initiate a new one. It didn't matter which one of them emerged victorious, as long as the Inquisitorius got one skilled warrior to fill their wretched ranks.

The Inquisitor's body gave a weak shudder; Bode had seen enough lightsaber injuries to know that this one was fatal. She was dying slowly from an excruciating injury he'd given her, because he hadn't been able to exert that control he valued so much over the depths of his anger. And, if she was right, he never would. His anger, his grief, his suffering – they stalked his footsteps like a jealous lover, and even having the perpetrator of the worst moment of his life beaten and broken before him didn't make any of it go away.

“It's time,” the Inquisitor whispered. “Kill me. Seal your fate. It's yours now, whether you want it or not.”

“We don't have to be enemies,” Bode tried to say, but even before his voice cracked over the words, he knew they were hollow.

“Kill me,” the Inquisitor repeated. “You can't do anything worse to me than what's already been done.”

Yes, because while falling to the dark side was to be remade in your own worst image, to become an Inquisitor was to be unmade: turned into a hollow shell made up only of the pain and fear that couldn't be tortured out. She was – well, a murderer, yes, someone who had carried out uncountable atrocities in the name of an Empire that hated her.

But wasn't Bode, too? Who's to say what he would have become, had he been in her place? Wasn't it knowing how easily he could become her that filled him with such horror now?

As the dizzying heights of the darkness seeped away, so did Bode's strength. He sagged forward until one spread palm braced against the ground was all that held him upright. And, like that one point of connection, a single conviction held the darkness at bay: the Inquisitorius wouldn't win today. Bode wouldn't complete the twisted recruitment process, couldn't kill her out of anger, because that anger had flown into the wind the second he heard her scream. 

But he could set her free. Set them both free.

“I'm sorry,” he said, and the words were almost as meaningless now as when he'd said them to Cal. Two words wouldn't absolve him, or free him from the burden of the darkness that danced heavy across his shoulders. They wouldn't heal the burning flesh he'd cut through her chest, or bring Tayala back, or make him, Cal and Kata safe from the darkest forces of the Empire that would still see them all shackled and tamed. They would never be enough.

He could only act, and hope that each step would take him closer to the light. 

There was little that was merciful about death by lightsaber. Bode left Cal's blade lying where it had fallen and instead drew the Pantoran blaster he’d taken from the armoury. He turned the unfamiliar weapon over in his hands, watching how his fingers trembled against the trigger. There was no going back after this. The Purge troopers wouldn’t hesitate to take their vengeance once they realised what he was about to do.

But the least he could do was give her a quick death. And he'd already killed so many Jedi – so what was one more mercy kill to add to his ledger?

Heart in his mouth, fingers shaking, Bode pressed the barrel of the blaster to the Inquisitor’s broken, twisted heart. 

She closed her eyes.

And he pulled the trigger. 

Chapter Text

The Inquisitor's body lay still, a curl of smoke rising from the hole in her heart.

Finally, finally, the Purge troopers moved, two units’ worth of boots stomping towards Bode across the courtyard, the crackling of electro-weapons like lightning on a stormfront. Bode stayed on his knees, waiting for the blows to land. Whoever said that dying was a lonely thing was right; no one here would give Bode a merciful death, or mark his passing with anything other than a soldier's satisfaction. He doubted he deserved more anyway. 

Instead of a shot through the chest, gloved hands grasped his arms. Someone prised his fingers away from the blaster, and no no no he'd failed their fucking test but they were still going to take him–

Bode lashed out. The darkness had sapped his energy, taken reserves of power he couldn't spare, and he fought with all the strength of a newborn pinned by a rancor's sharpened claws. If he could only make himself a threat, they might decide he wasn't worth taking alive, but a Purge trooper easily caught his swinging fist and twisted it behind his back. Panic sizzled white hot through his veins. This was it. They were going to drag him back to the unspeakable horrors that awaited him on Nur, to the looming Inquisitorial shadow he'd spent so many years running from.

One of the Purge troopers picked up Cal's lightsaber. Seeing it in their hands cracked Bode into shattered pieces, desperately reaching for a Force that didn't want to answer because that was Cal's heart. The darkness lay dormant, quashed by empty pity and exhaustion and a too-hasty acceptance of his own death; he couldn't access that power now even if he wanted to. And the light had never been strong enough to help him anyway. A legion of gloved hands held him down. No matter how he twisted and struggled, he couldn't stop the Purge troopers from pinning his wrists with cuffs and wrenching him up to his feet. He stood, knees trembling, abandoned to his fate by the Force, just like the day all the Jedi died, and the day Tayala died, and–

A shiver in the sky overhead. Bode's head snapped up, the troopers a beat or so behind. He could hear nothing but the wind and the pulse of tangled sparks emitted by the troopers’ weapons. Then came the unmistakable whine of an approaching engine. A split second later two shots of a laser cannon screeched down into the courtyard and exploded into the Inquisitor's ship.

The shockwave buffeted into Bode, and everything turned to chaos. “Secure the prisoner!” someone shouted, but the Purge troopers dropped him like hot metal and scattered, some firing blindly up into the air. Bode's knees collapsed under him and he hit the dirt, stunned and staring at the fiery carcass of the ship. It burned hot into his eyeballs, and time shifted around him, memory and moment overlapping – the acrid smell of burning ion engines, and Cal's pale, dust-covered body twisted among the wreckage of the Z-95 –

He didn't notice the new arrivals until a Purge trooper shouted another warning. From the darkness above them, two blades of solid blue ignited with a familiar whoosh. At the same time a conflagration of green energy zipped from the ship to the ground, and the Purge troopers started screaming.

Bode stared, frozen. Blood was roaring in his ears – or was that the sound of the ship on fire? – but his mind refused to believe what his eyes were seeing. A Nightsister flitted between troopers like an angel of death, her dagger sinking into throats and chests, leaving them gurgling in her wake. Someone else leapt down beside her, landing with the grace only a Jedi could possess, and threw herself into the fray. She caught an electrostaff on her lightsaber before throwing it off and slashing back with deadly efficiency.

This was a rescue. A Force-be-damned rescue, and there was no way this could be happening. The Mantis had been systems away, never to return. And Bode was dead. He'd accepted it. He’d watched the life ebb from the Inquisitor’s eyes with the certainty that he’d be next, and then, as the troopers seized him, a prey-animal's premonition of a longer, worse death deep in an ocean fortress–

Something touched his knee. Bode looked down, too dazed to flinch away.

BD-1 cocked his head and hooted a greeting. The next second someone skidded to their knees next to him and dragged him into their arms. 

“Bode!” Cal cried. Warm hands touched his shoulders, his chest, his chin, checking him over for damage.

“Cal,” Bode managed, disbelieving tears frozen in his eyes. He saw Cal but somehow also could only stare unblinkingly past him. 

Cal’s thumb traced the line of Bode’s jaw in a slow, grounding touch. “Hey,” he murmured, so gentle, as though Bode were an animal he was afraid to startle. “Hey, I’ve got you. I’ve got you now.”

Cal was dishevelled, like he had been running his fingers through his hair one too many times, tired and drained and pale. Nothing in the galaxy had ever been more beautiful. Bode yearned to sink into his embrace like a ship into a home berth, but even bathed in the scalding fire of the burning ship, Bode's soul was cold and dark and the air in his lungs tasted like poison. Could Cal feel the bone-deep terror that clung with oily fingers to Bode's soul? That dark power might have leaked away into the night, but Bode was made of shards, and this time the cracks were too deep to patch. 

“Where’s Kata?” Cal asked urgently. His words sounded like they were coming from deep beneath the ocean, and Bode was suddenly sure that if Cal left him again, he would drown. “The Hidden Path?”

“They’re okay.” The rasp that came out didn’t sound like Bode's voice. His own tongue was a dead weight in his mouth. “They’re… I sent them away.”

Cal nodded, shoulders falling loose with relief, his fingers shaking as he set down his lightsaber. He stretched out a hand behind Bode's back for the cuffs, and this time Bode did flinch. He couldn't help it, the memory of Purge trooper hands grabbing him from all sides still too fresh, and too strong. The metal of the cuffs dug into his wrists, and his arms ached with the efforts of trying to struggle free. The last time he'd been restrained like this, Cal had been in an interrogation chair, and he had thought they were both going to die at the Empire's hand because of Bode's failures. Now he didn't know what the future held, but he did know he'd made enough mistakes to deserve none of it. 

“I've got you,” Cal repeated. He'd leaned back the second Bode flinched, mouth twisted with worry. “I won't let anyone else hurt you, I promise. We just need to get these off. Hold still. BD?”

The little droid pattered behind Bode, and somehow that was preferable to Cal’s hands on his. One little bzzpt later, and the cuffs fell off Bode's wrists with a clatter of metal on stone. Bode brought his hands in front of him and looked blankly at the damage: wrists that were already bruising, the skin red and raw. He was so numb that he couldn't even feel the pain of it. 

Cal looked past him, taking in the burning ship, the Inquisitor’s corpse with the combination lightsaber and blaster wounds, and Cere and Merrin cutting through the Purge troopers like they were simple battle droids. When Cal turned back to Bode again, his voice was warm. “They've got this. You're safe now.”

Cal tried to take his hand, but Bode pulled back before the darkness could snap at his fingertips, before Cal could feel the tainted ink that coursed through his veins. Maybe here in this courtyard, with a dead Inquisitor only a few paces away and dying Purge troopers scattering the ground, the darkness was too ubiquitous for Cal to feel its source. But it was there, smouldering gently inside Bode’s chest, waiting for the next gust of wind that would fan it into a fire again.

“Bode.” Cal’s tone was soft. “Bode, please look at me.” Despite everything, Bode couldn't help but obey. There were tears in Cal's eyes too, brought with reflected flames. “It's going to be okay. You don’t need to keep me out anymore.”

Before Bode could reply, Cere shouted, “Cal!” from the other side of the battlefield, and sent something soaring in a perfect arc through the air towards them. The orphan half of Cal’s lightsaber, liberated from the Purge trooper who'd taken it from Bode's feet, glinted a fiery gold against the backdrop of the blazing ship. Cal’s bare hand rose up to meet it, and Bode's husky, terrified attempt at a warning was far, far too late.

“Don't–”

Cal caught the blade easily, and the effect was instantaneous. His eyes snapped shut as every emotion Bode had inadvertently poured into that hilt lashed their way into Cal’s mind all at once.

Never before had Bode been so close to Cal while he experienced an echo. Never had he been able to see in such detail the way Cal’s eyes darted beneath his eyelids, as if he were desperately trying to find his way out of the memory; nor the tightening of his hand around the saber, like the memories were electric sparks forcing his muscles to contract and cling on through the suffering. Bode raised his hand to snatch the saber back – anything to stop it, anything to not put Cal through that – but BD-1 trilled a warning that Bode didn’t need to be able to translate to understand.

Leave him be. The only way out is through.

The echo lasted seconds at best, but it felt like a lifetime. Bode sat still, unable to breathe. Finally, Cal’s eyes flew open again. With a gasp like a drowned man, he let go. The lightsaber rolled off his palm and into his lap.

“I'm sorry,” Bode whispered. What could he say that Cal hadn’t already seen through the echo? I tried to resist the darkness. I failed. I don't think I'll ever be truly free of it. 

“She killed Tayala?” Cal shook with gasping sobs, tears glittering on his cheeks in the glow from the fire. 

Bode wished he could cry with him, but nothing could get past the lump in his throat, choked with unspent tears and words he couldn't voice. “I don't know,” he croaked out, because it could just as easily have been a lie designed to tear at the rawest of his wounds. He'd probably never know – and what would be the point now anyway?

“Bode,” Cal said again, his voice breaking over the word. “I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I never should have left you.”

Despite what he'd seen, despite the ugly, awful things he had felt, Cal threw his arms around Bode again. Bode inhaled in surprise, breathing in the scent of sweat and engine oil and hot metal that was so distinctly Cal's. Dark terror surged beneath his skin, but with Cal in his arms the overwhelming need to just hold him and be held won out. The tears pricked to the surface, thorns pulled from flesh. They dropped down each cheek like blood, a trickle first, then a flood that shook his whole body, sobs deep and wrenching. Cal's hands moved in small circles over Bode's back and shoulders, soothing away the shudders. His voice was in Bode's ear, reminding him over and over and over that Cal had him. Body and soul. Mind and spirit. Heart and head. Every single time, no matter what. 

By the time Bode lifted his head again, the battle was over. The Mantis’ bulk filled the courtyard, looming over the smoking remains of the Inquisitor’s ship. Greez was fussily picking his way towards them through a maze of dead Purge troopers and snapped, fizzling electro-weapons. Behind him, Cere and Merrin stood watch, but Bode couldn't look at either of them for long enough to decipher their expressions.

“We left you alone for five days, Jetpack,” Greez grouched, kicking a black trooper helmet out of his way. “And just look at this mess. If any Imp has touched a single plant in my garden, I swear on the grave of Granny Pyloon herself, I will hold you personally responsible.”

Cal chuckled at that, his body shaking against Bode's. The sound – so light, like sunshine – was a needle and thread stitching Bode back together again.

“Where are the others?” Merrin demanded, always practical.

“Safe.” Cal twisted around to look at her before Bode could figure out how to open his mouth. “Bode sent them away before the Inquisitor arrived.”

“You sensed her coming? That's impressive,” Cere said, in that soft voice of hers. Bode risked a look at her face this time. She was smiling at him approvingly, just like Masters used to smile at their Padawans back at the Temple, before everything burned. The last time Bode had seen Cere had been at the Archive, moments after the Empire arrived to destroy her life's work. He didn't deserve that smile. 

“Why did you come?” Bode intended the question to be direct, to cut through that false approval to the anger that had to lie beneath, but his voice betrayed him. He sounded small instead, and desperate. Maybe that was closer to the truth.

She raised her eyebrows, and Bode knew she saw right through him. “You stayed behind, and risked your life to save everyone else here. Do you not think you were worth saving in return?”

Bode didn't have an answer to that. Truth be told, he hadn't even considered the possibility of being rescued. Not even by Cal. All those years spent alone, fighting to stay hidden, to keep Kata safe against steep odds that worsened everyday – when had he ever had the luxury of relying on anyone else? But they'd come: not just Cal, but Cere, Merrin and Greez as well. To rescue him. 

It was too much. To his shame, Bode could only respond by burying his head in Cal's shoulder. He hadn't realised how badly he was shaking. Now, tucked into the soft nook at the base of Cal's neck, every muscle in his body felt like it was unspooling from his bones. The darkness still twisted inside him, but it had nowhere to go because Bode was finally safe. Cal was here and real and warm. Cere, Merrin and Greez were standing guard. And Kata–

“Kata,” Bode mumbled, pulling back and giving his eyes an awkward wipe. “She's with the Path. I don't know where…”

Cal nodded, then looked up at Cere and Merrin. Something unspoken passed between the three of them, too fast for Bode to catch. 

“We will find them,” Merrin promised.

“While we're gone, get Bode back into the Mantis as quickly as you can,” Cere added to Cal. “That smoke will draw Imperial attention sooner rather than later.”

Cal's hands tightened around Bode's. “Of course. We'll get out of here as soon as we can.” Under his breath, he added just for Bode, “If the Empire wants to try anything else, they're going to have to go through me.”

Bode, at last, managed a grim smile. Once Cere and Merrin retreated, Cal pulled them both to their feet. Bode swayed, black spots dancing in his vision. He was leaning so much of his body weight against Cal that he was practically propping him up. He didn't know if he had the strength to make it to the Mantis unaided, but if Cal stayed by his side, that would be enough.

***

Cal sprawled tiredly in the Mantis’ gallery and nursed a headache. The ship hummed gently, hovering on the edge of Pantoran space, at the place where the gentle haze of atmosphere gave way to the tapestry of stars. Once the Hidden Path ship on the ground confirmed it had picked up the last of the refugees from the safehouse, they'd jump into hyperspace, and maybe then the rush of stars overhead would finally cure his pounding head.

Every time he closed his eyes, the memory of Bode's echo, and its agony, bled through. The fear, the heartbreak, the screams of rage and despair of someone racing towards inevitable death. It wasn't Bode's loss of control to the darkness that scared Cal – it was that Bode had been ready to sacrifice everything. Almost had, if the Mantis hadn't turned up when it did. 

The cockpit door opened and Cere stepped out, her face neutral. She closed it carefully behind her, sealing Merrin and Greez in. Cal knew they were just giving him space to process what he'd seen and what came next, but he couldn't help the slight twinge of irritation in his chest. He was brittle, sure, but far from broken. 

“You were right, then,” Cere commented. She came behind Cal to pour a mug of caf, slow and deliberate, then placed it in front of Cal and started one for herself. “Drink up.”

Cal didn't want caf, but he wrapped his hands around the warm ceramic anyway. “I was lucky,” he corrected her.

“Do you think the Force provides visions randomly?” Cere raised a sceptical eyebrow and perched on the stool next to him. Steam rose in front of her face, obscuring her eyes for a brief moment. “Was it a coincidence we arrived just in time to prevent further tragedy? No. Your vision brought us to the right person, at exactly the right time.”

Cal sighed. Right from childhood, he'd been taught a healthy scepticism of Force visions because they could so easily mislead or confuse someone who wasn't practised at interpreting them. His vision the day before had been crystal clear: Bode kneeling on the ground, an Inquisitor’s lightsaber burning at his throat. But even then, it almost hadn't been enough. “If the Force knew Bode was in trouble, why wait until the last moment to tell me? Why put Bode through that?”

“You may as well ask why Jedi suffer at all.” Cere took a long sip, and Cal recognised the look in her eye, the slow contemplation of a philosophical question that he rarely had the privilege of time for. “The important thing is that he did not fall into the Empire's hands. We should be thankful he is alive and unharmed.”

Unharmed. The word landed, bitter, in Cal's belly. Bode's surface wounds were treated and healing, and his heart beat still, but the echo told a different story. Cal knew he wouldn't ever forget the moment he caught the lightsaber, and the flood of anguish that had raked through him. Vano's betrayal. Kata in danger. Bode's realisation that he would likely die in the confrontation. The Inquisitor’s confession that had dug up Tayala's bones and forced Bode to confront his grief yet again.

And in amongst the torment, Cal had also been able to glean something of Bode's thoughts about him. Bode loved him, deeply and without question. So much so that, as the strength of Bode's love grew, so too did its slow slide towards fear. Bode only knew how to love like a man doomed: always watching the clock count down to his next loss, to when the Empire would tear them apart again. He was never able to dream of a brighter future, because all he could see were terrible what-ifs and all the ways he could fail.

Cal could make him a thousand pretty promises, but nothing would ever quench that terror. Bode's fears were real and true, set in the hard stone of this galaxy's inexorable reality. The Empire still hunted Jedi to their deaths, and the Hidden Path still cracked at the seams under Imperial infiltrations and Inquisitorial attacks. Tanalorr was the only thing that had ever promised a different future, and now even that was out of reach. 

“You want to know what I believe?” Cere asked, eyes fixed on him over the rim of her mug.

Cal flushed, aware that he had been silent for too long, but said nothing. She would tell him either way. 

“You should ask fewer questions about the what and the when, and more about the who. Why did the Force choose you to warn about the danger Bode Akuna was in?”

None of this was helping Cal's headache. “Because you and I are the only Jedi left to warn, and I’m probably more impressionable,” he answered, stirring his caf so he didn't have to look her in the eye.

“Cal.” The look Cere gave him wasn't quite on par with Jaro Tapal’s ‘disappointed Master’ face, but it was a close-run thing. He was well past the age when Cere could scold him for being facetious, but somehow she always made him feel like a child again: resisting her lessons because he didn't understand the magnitude of what she was trying to teach him. “Bode is a Jedi. A joining of two people in the Force is a profound thing – and a rare one, even when the Jedi were more numerous. It creates a deep connection, something that can transcend great distances and even greater obstacles.”

Cal shifted, not sure if he believed her. “Right,” he said sarcastically, “so we're going to ‘transcend’ the Empire with the power of love now?”

“Yes.” Cere smiled at him, soft and certain. “Your premonition saved Bode from the Empire today, and that was only possible because you love him, and because he loves you. You reached out to each other, across a vast, unfathomable distance, and the Force answered.”

Cal brushed a hand over his face and blew out a breath. Like always, this was too big for him. He didn't want to think in terms of Force and fate. He could barely wrestle with the reality: two men, the love they shared, and a handful of allies against the omnipresent evil of the Imperial machine that wanted them all dead.

But the Force had answered. And Bode was alive because of it. 

“I just want Bode to be okay,” he said, in a small voice.

“It will take time to rebuild what was lost,” Cere said, “though I have a feeling that both of you will be fine.”

Finally Cal smiled back at her. She was so solid and familiar, legs coiled around the stool, and elegant hands around her mug. No wonder these last few years had been hard – what in the galaxy would he ever do without her?

Deeper in the ship, a door opened. A rumbling voice floated out to them, too soft to make out the words, but still unmistakable. Bode. Cal’s heart leapt as he heard Kata’s answering voice, then her little footsteps drawing closer. When she popped around the corner of the galley door, she had BD-1 perched on her shoulder.

“Hi Cal. Hi… Master Cere,” she said, lifting her chin to hide her nerves at seeing Cere. “Papa asked me to find you. He says he’s ready for visitors now.”

“Wonderful news.” Immediately Cere stood, leaving her half-drunk caf on the counter. “Kata, why don't you come with me to fetch Merrin and Greez? We’ll join you in a few moments,” she added to Cal.

Kata shot a panicked look at Cal. He gave her a reassuring grin and a firm tilt of the head, and she scurried to obey, tailing Cere like a faithful puppy as they headed to the cockpit door. Cal couldn't help a small smile at their retreating backs – if anyone knew how to nurture and protect a lost little Jedi, it was Cere – then hurried to Bode’s cabin.

Bode was still in bed when Cal knocked on the door, but propped up and alert enough to immediately lean forward and hold out his hand. “Cal,” he breathed, like it was an involuntary thing, so much packed into just his name. Longing. Gratitude. Permission to rush across the room and melt into his arms. Bode was warm beneath the bedcovers, only the paleness of his face and the soft pink burn marks on his neck showing what he’d been through. Cal started off gentle, unsure what Bode needed, but then Bode wrapped his arms so tightly around him that Cal could have sworn his ribs would crack. He wheezed a laugh against Bode's shoulder, and hugged him back with just as much want. 

“I've got you,” Cal said again, when they broke apart. It was an echo of the promise he'd made on that devastating battlefield. The same words, but this time he pressed them into Bode's skin with a kiss to the forehead, to the curves of his cheeks, and then at last – at last – to his warm and waiting lips. 

Like before, the darkness hovered just under Bode's skin, buzzing like an electric current. It tingled through Cal's nerve endings everywhere Bode touched him, not lashing out but still full of malignant potential. Cal didn't fight it, didn't try to batten it down or push it away; instead he peppered kiss after dizzy kiss onto Bode lips, each one a reminder that Bode was safe, held, loved, protected. Bode returned every one, grounding and steadying, his hands firm around Cal's biceps. They kissed and kissed until they both felt the darkness change; it didn't recede, but it did settle and still.

“I love you,” Cal said, voice cracking, lips tingling with the last of their kisses. “I love you, I love you. I can't ever say it enough. And I'm sorry.” He didn't even realise he was crying until Bode thumbed the tears from his cheeks. “I'm so sorry. I'll never leave you again.”

“Cal.” Bode breathed in deeply and his hand on the back of Cal's neck tightened. “You didn't know what would happen. You couldn't have known.”

“But–”

“Cal,” Bode said again, holding Cal's face like it was the most precious treasure in the galaxy. His true reply, when it came, wasn't out loud. Instead the essence inside him, the one that was the perfect echo and answer to the essence inside of Cal, took Cal by the hand. He led Cal to a place deep in his core, scattered with pillars of sunshine. The darkness was there, lurking as storm clouds in the sky, threatening rain, but as Cal entered it was outshone by the brightness of the light: the trust that allowed Bode to hope again – for them, and for their future together.

Nothing else needed saying. Bode shifted his hold, guiding Cal down onto the narrow mattress beside him. They nestled themselves into that shared space, a cocoon populated only by Cal's love for Bode, and Bode's love for Cal, until he couldn't tell where one ended and the other began. It flooded into all their facets and cracks, so vast and powerful that the darkness floundered in it.

A knock at the door broke them both apart far too soon. They both screwed up their faces at each other in mutual amusement and sympathy.

Cal recovered first. He stole one last kiss, then tumbled out of the bed and back to his feet. “Ready?”

“As I'll ever be,” Bode replied wearily, smoothing down the bedcover where Cal had creased it. Neither of them needed to hide what they meant to each other from the rest of the crew, but they could at least pretend there was some level of decorum in their reunion.

Cal stood, opened the door. Outside, Cere and Merrin and Greez stood, tired but attentive, waiting to welcome Bode back into their lives. They filed in, Kata following behind with BD-1 chirping away on her shoulder, and the last of the heaviness in Cal’s chest evaporated. For the first time in a long, long time, his entire family was together in one room.

***

Bode wasn't ready, and he probably never would be, but if he'd learned one thing working for the ISB, it was that avoiding unpleasant necessities only made the experience worse for everyone involved. Not that facing Cere, Merrin and Greez was comparable to the things he'd done to survive there, but it was daunting. Yes, Cal was by his side, but one of Cal's best qualities was that he could overlook a multitude of sins in a person he loved. 

One of Merrin's was that she didn't forgive, and she didn't forget.

With all seven of them here, the room was filled almost to capacity. Bode's instincts hissed at him to inch back, to find an escape route, but before he could act Kata wordlessly climbed back onto the bed with him. He wrapped one arm around her, pulling her close, and she nestled against his chest with a small sigh as BD-1 settled into her lap. She still hadn't quite forgiven him for making her leave the safehouse with Churi and Amara, but that didn't mean that she hadn't clung to him at every opportunity since her return. He let her warmth and weight steady him. Perhaps Kata's presence was a sign that the rest of the crew had no intention of making this conversation harder than it needed to be. 

“How are you feeling?” Cere spoke first, her soft voice rounding out the sharp-edged tension in the air.

Cere Junda was many things, but insincere wasn't one of them. In ISB briefing documents she'd been described as extremely dangerous, so terrifyingly powerful that even Inquisitors feared to face her. They hadn't been wrong; Bode had seen her fight, quick and deadly as a freshly whetted blade. And yet, there was something even more powerful about her: an aura that filled every room she stepped into with calm waters. It was the kind of quiet power that Bode recognised from various Jedi Masters he'd seen before the Purge, but had never been important enough to meet. The kind of power that protected, and never attacked unprovoked.

“Weak,” he answered, throat tight around the word. No one but Cere could have pulled such honesty out of him. “Sore. Tired.”

“Guilty?” Merrin added, sharp, then winced as Cal jabbed an elbow into her ribs. Still, Bode was grateful for the opening.

“Cal told you?” he asked. “About the echo?”

Cal's face clouded at the memory, and Bode couldn't blame him. He would have done anything to spare Cal from knowing how it had felt when the lightsaber cut into the Inquisitor's flesh, and how all-consuming Bode's rage had been.

“He told us that you once again turned to the dark side,” Merrin said, and at least that didn't sound like an accusation; just a fact. “That doing so saved your life.”

“I didn't do it to survive,” Bode said. “I–” 

“Bode doesn't have to justify anything,” Cal interrupted, still glaring at Merrin. He had both halves of his lightsaber back together now, echo safely bled dry, and his fingers fiddled with the hilt. “The Inquisitor is dead. She deserved it. We'd all have done the same in his pl–”

“No, Cal. Please. Let me…” The words burned, the vulnerability burned, but Bode needed them to understand. “Let me explain.”

Under his arm, Kata nuzzled closer, her presence a comfort in ways Bode couldn't put into words. He fought another wave of regret that she had to be here for conversations about guilt and dead Inquisitors. But she lived in a galaxy of betrayal and exponential Imperial power, and even if he shielded her now, no one else would ever spare her just because she was young.

Bode took a deep breath. “Merrin is right. The darkness… It got the better of me during the fight. But the echo doesn't tell the whole story; I dropped the lightsaber before the end, so Cal didn't see everything. I didn't kill her in anger.”

To his own surprise, Bode found himself looking to Cere again. Her enigmatic, clear-water smile was back, and despite his fears, Bode understood that she wasn't judging him. Someone as powerful as her could surely sense the darkness that twisted inside his gut, no matter how much Cal's reaffirmation of love had temporarily tamed it. And yet, her easy, silent acceptance of his shame made the words easier. 

“By the time the fight was over, she… Her wounds were… It was inevitable. I couldn't save her, but I didn't want her to suffer any more than she already had. So I… gave what help I could. And that decision belonged to me, not the darkness.”

The room was quiet. Merrin crossed her arms, unreadable, but Cal and Greez both turned towards Cere too, their eyes sorrowful in a way Bode didn't understand.

The attention begged an answer, and Cere wet her lips before replying. “My first Padawan became an Inquisitor. I failed to protect her and the Empire tortured her until she fell. Thank you, Bode, for your kindness. It means a lot to me.”

Fear gripped Bode's belly. “She wasn't…?” 

“No. She died many years ago, killed by her own Inquisitorial master. Another burden that I carry.”

Bode couldn't help a small shiver of relief. No information about Cere's Padawan had ever been provided to the ISB, and why would it? The Inquisitorius kept their secrets close, and their failures closer. “I had to go through it,” he said. “The anger. The dark side. I couldn't run from it forever.”

“No,” Cere agreed. “Not even the wisest Masters could push the darkness aside forever. It tore through you. But it did not consume you.” She breathed out deeply, until it became the huff of a wry laugh. “You know, you make a fine Jedi.”

Bode frowned, unsure if she was mocking him. “I'm no Jedi.”

This time Cere's laugh was lighter. “I mean it as a compliment. Even in the midst of all that anger and fear and suffering, you found compassion. At the last minute, you pulled yourself back from the cliff edge – not for your own gain, but to show mercy to someone who had deeply wronged you. Truth be told, Bode, I'm envious. You've shown greater resilience than I did, when I walked a similar path.”

“Similar path?” Bode echoed. 

“Cal.” Cere turned to him, and Bode recognised that disapproving tone, Master to Padawan. “You never told him?” 

“Told me what?” Bode twisted to face Cal, trying to interpret the rueful crook of Cal's mouth. 

He held up his hands. “It wasn't my story to tell.”

“That’s sweet of you, but you don't need to protect me,” Cere said, amused. “Bode, you're not the only one here who has struggled with the dark side. When the Empire took my Padawan, they also took me. I only escaped because I tapped into that power, just like you did. I spent years running from it, cutting myself off from the Force to hide from what I'd done. But eventually I overcame it. And you are healing already. I think you will do better than I ever did.”

Bode stared at her for a long moment, unable to detangle the torrent of feeling her words unleashed in him. Perhaps it should have shocked him, to hear the depths she had sunk to. Instead, it felt like a weight lifting. If this Jedi Master, this mighty warrior with such a presence and trust in the Force, had known the pull of the dark side, then there was hope. Precedent, even. Perhaps there was even a possible future where he didn't have to spend the rest of his life crawling on his knees, gaze downcast in case the darkness tried to catch his eye again.

“Thank you,” he managed eventually. “That… that is good to know.”

“I meant what I said about your resilience,” Cere pressed again. “The fact that you've beaten the darkness back several times already is a testament to that. You have a long journey ahead, and the route will be far from straightforward, but I think you already know what your next steps must be.” When Bode's gaze drifted over to Cal, Cere laughed. “No, love isn't the cure, I'm afraid,” she added, eyes sparkling now. “But it does help with the healing.”

Healing. Bode had thought that what he needed was redemption. From the moment he pulled that trigger on the dying Inquisitor, perhaps even before that, he'd been waiting for his day of reckoning. He'd accepted that he was doomed to a future of grovelling on his knees and begging forgiveness, always atoning for the mistakes that had brought him here.

But healing? And Cere hadn't even tried to ask him for an apology, nor had she pushed for an admission of guilt. She was offering empathy, connection, consolation. She was looking at his wounds with the understanding of someone who had her own, and promising that, with rest and care and time, they would eventually close.

“I don't understand,” Kata piped up. She sat up next to Bode, stiff-backed and ready to defend him. “Cal said that killing people to save lives is the right thing to do. Isn't that what you did, Papa?”

Everyone turned to look at Cal, who flushed red. “I… uh, I don't remember saying that to her,” he said sheepishly.

“You did!” Kata pouted, and Bode had no doubt she was right. “Back home. I mean, back on Nova Garon, in the dark.”

“He was correct, little one,” Merrin said, the only one unruffled. “Sometimes you must kill for the greater good, and you must not feel guilty about it afterwards.” Merrin looked down at Kata's tense frame and obstinate scowl with a spark of amusement in her eyes. “Perhaps one day, I will teach you how.”

“Hey, hey! Aren't we getting a little off topic here?” Greez asked, crossing both sets of arms and eying Bode suspiciously. “What I wanna know is, is Jetpack gonna turn into some hulking dark side monstrosity if we piss him off too badly? I don't wanna be watching my back every time I fail to cook his favourite thing for dinner.”

“Stars above, Bode isn't going to turn to the dark side if you cook the wrong thing, Greez,” Cal grumbled, but Merrin spoke over him. 

“He will not be your first crewmate with dark powers,” she reminded Greez, lighting a burst of green fire at her fingertips. “But doubling the amount of us onboard this little ship? I am not sure you will survive.”

Bode opened his mouth to object, but then Merrin threw him the tiniest hint of a smile. They were just teasing each other, and him. Like any crew would do. Like a group of people who had a future together. He closed his mouth again, eyes prickling, heart beating oddly in his chest. 

Merrin and Greez continued to bicker, Cal looked like he was walking a tightrope between frustration and affection, and Cere watched it all with wry amusement – and suddenly Bode understood.

Reading about the Mantis crew in briefing documents, he'd observed it to be a smartly matched cell, the perfect strike team against a vast, organised enemy: pilot, strategist, infiltrator, frontline fighter. Meeting them on Jedha had shown them to be dysfunctional and fractured, pulled in different directions by disagreements about priorities and methods. But it was more than their shared hatred of the Empire that had brought them together, and that bond was what was pulling them back together now, despite their faults and flaws and failings. This was a family, as much as he, Tayala and Kata had ever been.

In his wildest and most hopeful moments, Bode had dared to imagine sitting Kata down and talking to her about Cal. About how he would never replace her mother, but how the three of them could be something new and special together. Now that secret dream took root and unfurled, far further than he had dared to picture before.

Yes, he and Cal had a future. But now, looking at this ramshackle group of misfits, with their mess and their madness and their unfaltering love for one another, he thought that maybe this ‘new and special’ thing should include the rest of the crew as well.

Chapter Text

They landed back on Bogano, all seven of them together this time. Cal took Bode and Kata by the hands and introduced them to the place where his life had started anew, all those long years ago. How strange it was, for everything to have come in such a full circle: he'd arrived there a lonely straggler, lost and broken. Now he was whole – with not only the original Mantis crew by his side, but BD-1, Merrin, Bode and Kata too.

There were eight of them once Master Cordova joined them a few days later, by which time Bode had over-rehearsed his apology for stunning him back at the Archive. While Bode stuttered, Master Cordova just smiled, patted him gently on the shoulder and told him that he was happy that Bode had found a new path.

They rested, relaxed, healed. Colour returned to Bode's face, and softness back to his eyes. Kata ran freely around Cordova's workshops with BD-1 as her enthusiastic guide. Greez poured everyone a glass to toast to the memory of Pyloon's and all their friends they'd had to leave behind on Koboh. Every morning Cal climbed up to the top of the workshop and breathed in the sunrise air, clean and cool.

And in snatched moments of privacy, Cal finally got the opportunity to show Bode just how much he meant to him. He made sure that Bode was always the first thing Cal saw when he opened his eyes in the morning. They were each other's to keep, despite the odds.

Bogano was peaceful, but it wasn't safe. The Empire knew of its existence, so it was only a matter of time before they came sniffing around, looking for Jedi. Their time together was an indulgence that everyone knew couldn't last.

But they made the best of it. Cere worked with Bode, helping him reconnect himself to the Force in ways that tempered the darkness instead of strengthening it. Bode and Cal meditated together in comfortable silence, communing inside the Force and out. Cal took Merrin aside and together they spent hours poring over star charts, searching for somewhere that could act as a refuge for two Jedi and their little girl. Bode carefully monitored Imperial channels, and confirmed what they already knew: the Empire was tearing the galaxy apart searching for them both. The ISB had eyes everywhere, watching and waiting for them to emerge; bounty hunters were offered eye-watering amounts of credits just for information about their whereabouts; and the Inquisitorius lurked in the background, ready to pounce on the slightest mistake.

Until, eventually, it was time to say farewell.

Greez went first, complaining profusely about the wear all these extra people were placing on the Mantis’ engines. Retirement had always suited him better anyway, even if it meant finding a new place and new credits to plant Pyloon's 2.0. As he exited down the Mantis’ ramp, he offered a hand back to Kata and asked if she'd come with him if he promised her a garden. Kata graciously declined, but spent every bedtime for the next fortnight demanding Bode lull her to sleep with vivid descriptions of the garden they'd have when they eventually settled down: bright flowers taller than she was, and trees laden with the sweetest fruits, and a shady place to rest their heads when the sun soared high in the sky. 

After that, Cere and Merrin left together. They headed back with Master Cordova to the frontlines of the Hidden Path: fighting not to destroy the Empire, but to protect those the Empire hunted. Cal didn't try to stop them this time. He hugged Merrin tightly, and let Cere hold him close. 

“If you need anything, you know where to find us,” Cere told him and Bode. “Remember to trust in the Force, and in each other.”

Cal managed to hold his tears back until he and Bode were alone that night. Bode, who’d grown close enough to Cere in such a short time to miss her too, stroked his hair, and kissed the tears off his cheeks, and the loneliness didn't sting quite as hard as it had the first time. It hurt, sure, but this time it didn't feel like goodbye.

Even with just the four of them left, it wasn't safe. Nowhere was safe – but they could find a place to lay low for a handful of years, enough to let Kata grow free from the shadow of the Empire, and for their wounds to heal into workable scars. 

The route they'd drawn up with Merrin's help served them well. As did their renewed trust in the Force, when they missed detection by a hair's breadth more than once. They stuck to the far edges of the Outer Rim, dropped into civilisation only for fuel and rations that would keep them going, and steadfastly avoided anything that might draw the Empire's eyes to their movements.

There were bright moments too, in the dark months of journeying. Bode tried one taste of Cal’s cooking and decided that he’d better take charge of the kitchen from then on. Kata refused to sit anywhere but wide-eyed in the co-pilot’s chair while they made the jump to hyperspace, the blue rush rippling over her face like sunlight on water. Every time Bode passed Cal in the narrow hallways, he hooked a hand around his waist and kissed him until Kata told them to get a room. Bit by bit, Cal coaxed strength back into his knee, and Kata always giggled at him when he used BD-1 as a counterweight.

And then, after months of travel and searching and several false starts, they found it. Not a permanent home, but a home nonetheless.

When Cal had first arrived on Koboh, Greez had told him to settle down. A humble clearing on a distant forest moon probably wasn't exactly what he'd had in mind, but it was the closest thing Cal’d had to a planetside home since the scrapyards of Bracca. It didn’t have trees laden with fruit or flowers as tall as Bode, but there were berries aplenty and trees too big for all three of them to encircle with their hands clasped. The air was clear, and beyond the trees the stars sparkled like Old Republic jewels.

On the day that they landed, Kata wore herself out running around and exploring, and Cal and Bode looked at each other with their first real smiles in several weeks. Here was a place remote and quiet enough to stay hidden for several years at the very least – until Kata's age and the necessities of life eventually forced them back out into the galaxy.

Time passed. A month, and then another, and then another. Kata took to the forest as though she were part Ewok, running three quarters wild and climbing everything that stayed still long enough. Cal taught her how to stay safe up high, and Bode taught her how to be aware of her surroundings, and she grew nut-brown and wild-haired and strong. Everything she had never been allowed to be while confined to Imperial bases or cooped up on the Mantis. 

One night, Cal put Kata to bed, kissing her forehead and tucking both BD-1 and Mookie in beside her, and then couldn't find Bode. He checked the engine room, their shared cabin, the cockpit (and even the refresher) with no luck. Finally he wandered down the Mantis’ ramp out into the starry night and spotted him several paces away. 

For a moment, Cal just smiled, leaned against the ramp struts and watched him. Bode was fussing with something glowing dimly just out of sight, occasionally muttering to himself under his breath. The surface of the moon was so dark that the sky was a vivid tableau of nebulae above them. It allowed Cal to admire the silhouette of Bode's profile against the glittering sky, and, when he turned and spotted Cal, to see the radiance reflected in his eyes.

“You're early,” Bode said, crossing his arms, embarrassed. “I was almost ready.”

Cal shrugged and stepped off the Mantis, making his way towards him. “Kata went off quickly. I think she wore herself out with all those Mantis upgrades we were doing this afternoon.”

Bode laughed softly. “No wonder, poor thing. You're a ruthless taskmaster.”

“She loves it.” Cal reached Bode, gave him a quick peck on the lips, then looked behind him. “What's all this?” 

On the leafy forest floor, Bode had stacked several crates from the Mantis’ storage room until they formed a rough table. Balanced precariously on top was a handful of flickering candles and two places set for food. 

“Dinner,” Bode said.

“Dinner?” Cal repeated with an affectionate laugh. “Love, we have dinner every night. What's special today?” 

“It's not dinner. It's dinner.” It was too dark to see anything in Bode's face, but the Force swelled with self-consciousness. More and more these days, their emotions floated in the air alongside their words, and Cal didn't know if it was their deepening bond, Kata's empathetic influence, or something else entirely. “You know. A date.”

Cal's breath hitched. Nevermind that he and Bode had already declared their love for each other across several different systems, shared a bed every night and were raising Bode's daughter together – Bode still managed to find ways to surprise him.

“Sit.” Bode steered Cal into a seat with his hands on Cal's shoulders, then gave them a squeeze. “I'll go get the food.”

He returned with two plates and took the seat opposite Cal. By the time they'd finished eating, Cal's lips were tingling pleasantly from the spices, and, despite the chill of the night air, his belly was warm and full.

“You're so good at cooking.” Cal stretched his arms high then leaned back in his chair with a satisfied sigh. “Good job Greez never found out, or he'd have tried to take you away from me too.”

A chill of uncertainty emanated from Bode, and Cal was already sitting up in concern when Bode spoke. “Cal. Are you… are you happy?”

“What? Bode, of course I am. You did all this for me.”

Bode shifted. The only things on his face Cal could see clearly were his eyes, gazing up at the starry sky. “I don't mean just tonight, or even just today. In general. Are you happy with this life we have?”

Cal opened his mouth to repeat that, yes, he was, but then closed it again. He knew what Bode meant; this was lovely, but neither of them knew how long it would last.

Despite how far they'd come, their demons followed them still, dogged as any Imperial agent. Cal struggled with the lack of purpose, and knew that one day he would have to scratch the itch that had haunted him since the Purge, and bring the fight back to the Empire. Bode's journey to conquer the darkness was still only in its infancy, and no matter how he wished differently, he couldn't train Kata until his own connection to the Force had been repaired. Kata was coming alive in ways she'd never been able to before – but she missed the friends she'd made on Pantora, and this isolated life with only Cal and Bode for company couldn't be ideal for a growing girl. Being safe meant being isolated, far from any of their friends and allies. 

It wasn't perfect, not by any means. Nothing ever would be, until the Empire fell, and showing their faces in civilised society was no longer a death sentence. But Cal got through everyday by reminding himself (and the ghost of Jaro Tapal that still haunted him) that protecting himself, Bode and Kata was holding the line.

Cal stood, came round to the other side of the table and knelt. He picked up Bode's hand from his lap and pressed it gently to his lips. “We're alive. We have each other. We have Kata. I couldn't ask for anything more.”

Bode exhaled deeply. “Is that it? Is that all we get?”

“There's no ‘all’ about it, love. You are everything. Kata is everything.” Bode's grief pierced Cal's chest, sharp and painful. There was so much to mourn: the lives they could have led, had things been different; the people they could have been. But this wasn't the end. It wasn't forever.

“Sorry.” Bode raised his spare hand to his eyes and brushed away tears. “It's easy to feel hopeless.”

Cal swallowed. “I know. But I have to believe things can change. Will change. For us, and the rest of the galaxy too.”

Cal climbed into Bode's lap and kissed him. Not to distract him, or to make him feel better, but to communicate that he understood. To reaffirm that they would keep going no matter how hard it got. To share his hopes for the future. Because, no matter what else, they had each other. Just two survivors together in a galaxy that loved a parting.