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Chapter Text

Part 1

In the vast expanse of a star-speckled galaxy, where the echoes of the Force whispered secrets of the past and future, Cal Kestis found himself a lone figure sprinting across the rooftops of an alien city, his heart pounding in his chest. The night was a blanket of darkness, pierced only by the occasional flicker of neon from the city below. His trusty droid, BD-1, was nowhere in sight, and the familiar presence of his crew felt like a distant memory.

Cal’s breath came in ragged gasps, each one a reminder of his harrowing escape. A mission gone awry had left him stranded on this unknown planet, fleeing the relentless pursuit of two Imperial Inquisitors. Their presence loomed behind him like a shadow, their determination as unyielding as the Empire they served.

The city was a labyrinth of unfamiliar architecture, its buildings rising like jagged teeth against the night sky. Cal leaped from one rooftop to the next, his Jedi training the only thing keeping him one step ahead of his pursuers. But his body was reaching its limit, injuries sustained during the crash-landing screaming in protest with every movement.

As he raced across another rooftop, the Force suddenly surged within him, a familiar presence tugging at the edges of his consciousness. It was a sensation he hadn’t felt since… No, it couldn’t be. The distraction was momentary, but it was all it took. His foot caught on an unseen obstacle, and he stumbled, the world tilting dangerously around him.

Before he could regain his balance, the ground gave way beneath him, and he fell through an open roof window, crashing into the darkness below. Pain exploded in his head, and then there was nothing but the welcoming embrace of unconsciousness.

When Cal’s eyes fluttered open, the world was a blur of shapes and muted colours. He was lying on a soft surface, the pain in his head a dull throb. Standing over him was a figure, their face coming into focus as his vision cleared.

“Who are you?” Cal’s voice was a hoarse whisper, his hand instinctively reaching for a lightsaber that wasn’t there.

Sitting up, Cal scanned his surroundings. The room was simple, spartan even, but it had the warmth of a lived-in space. His gaze then fell on a figure watching him from across the room. There was a strange familiarity in the man’s posture, something in the way he held himself that resonated with Cal, but he couldn’t place it.

“Who are you?” Cal repeated, his voice rough, edged with caution.

The stranger didn’t immediately answer. He was of slim build, Cal’s age, with features that seemed to blur the lines of numerous worlds, a common sight in the galaxy. “Someone who heard the crash. Someone who couldn’t leave a Jedi to die,” he finally said, his voice carrying a timbre of measured calm.

As the figure extended a hand to help him up, Cal knew one thing for certain: the Force worked in mysterious ways, and sometimes, just sometimes, it brought lost souls together in the most unexpected places.

Cal assessed his situation. The Inquisitors’ presence was absent from his senses, a small mercy in his current vulnerability. Time had passed, enough for his wounds to be stitched and bandaged, enough for the relentless pursuit to cool, at least for now.

The room, the man, the sense of an unknown planet outside the window—it was all a puzzle. Yet, in the midst of uncertainty, the Force had guided him here, to this stranger with an oddly familiar aura.

As the man offered Cal a drink, the Jedi knew that this encounter was no mere coincidence. It was a thread in the tapestry, a moment woven into the fabric of his journey. And for now, that was enough.

Part 2

The room was quiet, save for the distant hum of the city. Cal, his senses sharpened by years of training and survival, could feel the tension radiating from his host. The man moved with careful deliberation, as if constantly aware of unseen eyes watching. His nervous glances towards the window spoke volumes of his fear of the Inquisitors.

“Why did you help me?” Cal asked, his eyes fixed on the stranger. There was something about him, an undercurrent of power that was hard to miss for someone attuned to the Force.

The man hesitated, his gaze finally meeting Cal’s. “The Empire… they take no prisoners. I couldn’t just leave you out there,” he replied, his voice barely above a whisper. But his words seemed to skirt around a deeper truth.

Cal observed him thoughtfully. The man’s discomfort was evident, yet there was a strength in his eyes, a resilience that belied his nervous demeanour. It was then that Cal realised the truth—this stranger was strong with the Force. Not trained, or perhaps training unfinished, but there was an undeniable presence about him.

The realisation brought more questions than answers. Who was this man? Why did he choose to live under the Empire’s shadow when he could sense the Force?

“You’re like me,” Cal said softly, watching the man’s reaction closely.

The stranger’s eyes widened momentarily, a flicker of surprise, before he masked it with practised ease. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said, but his voice lacked conviction.

Cal decided not to press further. The man had saved his life, and that was enough for now. But the connection between them lingered in the air, an unspoken bond forged by the Force.

As the day wore on, the stranger tended to Cal, offering him food and medicine. He spoke little about himself, deftly steering the conversation away whenever it veered too close to his own story. Cal respected his reticence, understanding all too well the price of secrets in a galaxy ruled by the Empire.

Night fell once more, casting long shadows across the room. The stranger sat in silence, staring into the darkness outside. Cal watched him, a plan slowly forming in his mind. He needed to leave, to rejoin his crew and continue the fight against the Empire. But he couldn’t shake the feeling that this encounter was more than a mere coincidence.

The Force had brought them together for a reason, and Cal was determined to find out why. But first, he needed to heal, to regain his strength. And when the time was right, he would seek the answers that lay hidden in the shadows and light of this mysterious stranger.

Part 3

In the stillness of the room, as the city’s heartbeat slowed to a nocturnal rhythm, Cal Kestis drifted into a restless slumber. The world of dreams welcomed him, but it was not a place of peace. Instead, it was a fragmented landscape, echoing with memories and specres of the past.

His mind hurled him back to the harrowing moments of Order 66. The chaos erupted around him in vivid flashes—blaster fire, the betrayal in the eyes of the clone troopers. He saw his master again, his face etched with both determination and sorrow as he sacrificed himself to save Cal. The pain of that loss, raw and unyielding, flooded through him, a wound that time had failed to heal.

The dream shifted, morphing into the grimy, industrial world of Bracca. Here, Cal toiled in anonymity, a faceless worker among many, his connection to the Force buried deep within. Yet, even here, the past refused to remain hidden. Shadows of Inquisitors haunted the edges of this memory, a reminder of the relentless hunt for any remaining Jedi. The day they found him on Bracca replayed in disjointed snippets—the surge of adrenaline, the rush to escape, the realisation that he could never truly hide.

Without warning, the dream carried him to Zeffo, to the cold, echoing halls of the Venator wreckage. This memory was a labyrinth, a metaphor for the journey he had embarked upon. He wandered through the corridors, each turn revealing another piece of history, another echo of the Jedi who once walked these halls. The Force resonated strongly here, whispering secrets of ancient knowledge and long-forgotten truths.

Throughout these disjointed dreams, a constant presence lingered at the edge of his consciousness—the mysterious Force-sensitive stranger who had saved him. The man appeared in each memory, a silent observer, his face always just out of focus, his significance a puzzle that Cal’s dreaming mind couldn’t solve.

As dawn approached, Cal’s dream began to fade, the images dissolving into the ether. He awoke with a start, the remnants of his dream clinging to him like a lingering fog. In the dim light of early morning, he lay there, trying to piece together the fragments of his dream, each a reflection of his journey and the unresolved mysteries that lay ahead.

With the new day, Cal knew he would have to make decisions, to continue his fight against the Empire. But the presence of the stranger, both in his dreams and reality, suggested that his path was more intertwined with this mysterious figure than he had initially realised. The answers he sought were out there, somewhere between the shadows and the light.

Cal awoke to an empty living space, the stranger’s sofa his unchosen haven for the last two days. The early light cast long shadows across the floor. The mysterious man who had saved him was nowhere to be seen. His absence filled the space with questions, the silence heavy with unspoken words.

Feeling stronger and more agile than the night before, Cal decided to explore. He moved through the small home, hoping to uncover clues that might explain the connection he felt with the stranger. But the more he searched, the more he realised the meticulousness with which the man had stripped the space of personal touches. The walls were bare, the shelves unadorned, and even the few books present revealed nothing of their owner.

It was a home, yet it wasn’t. It was a place to rest, to hide, but not to live. It spoke volumes of a life lived in the shadows, always careful, always hiding.

As Cal’s eyes scanned the room, he felt a pull, a whisper of the Force emanating from the corner where the stranger’s bed lay. He approached cautiously, extending his senses to the echo that beckoned him.

The moment he touched the bed, a torrent of emotions flooded through him. Pain, loss, suffering—emotions so raw and powerful that they momentarily took his breath away. These were not just memories; they were scars, etched deep into the fabric of the Force by the stranger.

Images flashed in Cal’s mind—a family torn apart, a life destroyed by the Empire, a desperate escape into anonymity. Each image was a piece of the puzzle, revealing a story of immense loss and pain. The stranger had suffered, perhaps more than Cal could comprehend. It was a suffering that resonated with Cal’s own experiences, a shared legacy of pain left by the Empire’s tyranny.

As the echo faded, Cal was left with a profound sense of empathy for the stranger. This man had endured much yet had still found the strength to save another. His anonymity was not just a disguise; it was a shield, protecting him from a past that threatened to consume him.

Cal realised then that their paths had crossed for a reason. The Force had guided him to this man, not just for shelter, but for understanding—a shared kinship in a galaxy that often felt cold and unyielding.

Determined to learn more and to help if he could, Cal waited for the stranger’s return. The connection they shared through the Force was a bond that Cal could not ignore. It was a bond forged by shared pain, and perhaps, in time, it could lead to shared healing.

Part 4

As evening descended upon the alien city, the stranger returned to his home, his expression weary from the day’s labour. Without a word, he tended to Cal’s injuries, his hands moving with a skilled gentleness that belied his otherwise stoic demeanour. The silence between them was thick, filled with unasked questions and unspoken truths.

As the stranger prepared a simple meal, Cal seized the opportunity to probe deeper. “You can sense the Force, can’t you?” he asked, watching the man carefully.

The stranger paused, his back still turned to Cal. He didn’t respond, nor did he deny it. The silence was an answer in itself.

“May I know your name?” Cal ventured again, hoping to breach the walls the man had built around himself.

After a moment of hesitation, the stranger replied with a name. But as the word left his lips, Cal’s intuition flared. It was a lie, a mask like the ones the stranger had surrounded himself with.

The meal passed with little conversation. Cal could sense the layers of defence that the stranger had woven around his true self, each layer a testament to years of hiding, of surviving. After eating, Cal settled into a meditative state, trying to find balance in the Force, to understand the connection he felt with this enigmatic man.

Exhaustion eventually pulled him towards sleep. The stranger, noticing Cal’s discomfort on the sofa, offered to share his own bed. Cal hesitated, aware of the despair that lingered in the Force echo he had sensed earlier. Yet, the need for rest was too great, and he accepted.

Sleep was elusive, the bed a vortex of emotions left behind by its owner. Pain, loss, fear—each emotion battered against Cal’s senses, making it difficult to find peace. But eventually, fatigue won, and Cal slipped into a deep, dream-filled slumber.

His dreams took him back to the Venator crash on Zeffo, more vivid and haunting than before. He heard the desperate call of Jedi Master Chiata, her voice echoing through the wreckage: “Marseph, where is Marseph?” The name stirred something in Cal, a piece of the puzzle that was just out of reach.

Suddenly, Cal was jolted awake by the stranger. Panic etched the man’s face as he hurriedly motioned for Cal to hide. “They’ve found us,” he whispered, terror in his eyes.

The Inquisitors.

In a flurry of movement, Cal concealed himself in the Force, his heart pounding. The stranger moved quickly to erase any signs of Cal’s presence. As the sound of boots approached the house, Cal realised the gravity of their situation. They were cornered, with little hope of escape.

In that moment, Cal understood the true cost of the stranger’s kindness—a cost that might be paid with both their lives. The Force hummed around him, a beacon in the darkness, as he prepared for what might come next. The shadows of the past had finally caught up to them, and now, they faced them together.

In the dimly lit room, tension crackled like a live wire. The stranger hastily lifted the rug, revealing a hidden trapdoor set into the stone floor. With urgency etched into his every move, he pulled it open, exposing a cramped, dark space beneath.

“It’s the only way,” the man urged, his eyes imploring Cal to understand the gravity of the situation. The trapdoor’s space was barely enough for one, let alone two.

Cal, sensing the Inquisitors’ oppressive presence closing in, knew the decision before him was critical. Leaving the man to face the Inquisitors alone was unthinkable, yet his weakened state left him little chance in a confrontation. Every second of hesitation brought their doom closer.

With a resolute voice, Cal convinced the stranger to join him in the hideaway. It was a tight fit, their bodies pressed closely together in the confined space. As the trapdoor closed over them, darkness enveloped the pair, sealing them away from the world above.

Cal’s fingers brushed the stone above them, focusing his mind. With a subtle nudge of the Force, he willed the rug above to slide back into place, masking their last hope of refuge. Now hidden, they lay in the stifling darkness, the only sound the steady heartbeat of the man beside him.

Cal reached out with the Force, drawing upon its depths with a concentration born of desperation. He needed to mask their presence, to become nothing more than a whisper in the Force, undetectable to the probing senses of the Inquisitors. It was a feat of considerable strain, pushing his abilities to their limit.

The man beside him, sensing the effort, remained motionless, his breathing slow and controlled. In the pitch black, they were two souls bound by necessity, their fate hanging in the balance.

Time seemed to stretch on endlessly, each passing second an eternity. The faint sounds of the Inquisitors’ search filtered through the stone—the clatter of their boots, the murmur of their voices. Cal held the Force cloak tightly around them, his focus unwavering despite the growing fatigue that threatened to overwhelm him.

In that cramped, dark space, Cal and the stranger shared more than physical proximity; they shared a moment of absolute trust and vulnerability. For Cal, it was a stark reminder of the constant danger that shadowed his life, and for the stranger, it was a testament to the risk he had taken in saving a Jedi.

They remained hidden, two shadows in a galaxy of light and darkness, their fate intertwined by the mysterious workings of the Force. As the hunt above continued, Cal knew that this was but one more trial in their ongoing struggle against the tyranny of the Empire. But in this moment of peril, they were not alone—they had each other, and sometimes, that was enough to defy even the darkest of odds.

In the suffocating darkness of their hiding place, as Cal’s strength waned under the immense strain of maintaining their concealment, he turned to look at the now not-so-strange man, sweat beading on his forehead, the strain evident on his face. Then, an unexpected turn altered their precarious balance. The stranger, sensing Cal’s failing effort and driven by an impulse, placed a gentle, unforeseen kiss upon Cal’s lips. The act, charged with emotion and desperation, caught Cal completely off guard.

The effect was instantaneous and profound. Cal, initially startled, found himself unexpectedly relaxing into the embrace. In that brief, charged moment, a surge of energy flowed between them. The stranger, previously an enigma in his use of the Force, was now inexplicably boosting Cal’s abilities with his own latent power. It was a connection forged in the heat of danger, a union of two Force-sensitive beings amplifying their collective strength.

Sensing the boosted strength of Cal’s concealment, the stranger pulled Cal even closer, their bodies pressed tightly against each other. This act of intimacy was more than a mere physical embrace; it was a melding of energies, a union of two Force-sensitive beings striving to survive.

The stranger’s hands moved with a purpose that went beyond simple comfort. His touch, firm yet gentle, coaxed Cal into a deeper state of relaxation, inadvertently amplifying the strength of their joint Force presence. Every brush of skin, every shared breath, served to bolster their concealment from the probing senses of the Inquisitors lurking above.

Cal, initially taken aback by the stranger’s boldness, found himself yielding to the necessity of their situation. The touch of the stranger’s hands, wandering with careful deliberateness, stirred something within Cal that he hadn’t expected. It was a warmth, a sense of connection that transcended the fear and urgency of the moment.

Their combined Force presence, now stronger and more cohesive, wrapped around them like a shield. In this act of shared vulnerability, they found a surprising strength, a resonance in the Force that deepened their concealment. The despair and tension that had initially permeated the space began to dissipate, replaced by a sense of unity and purpose.

Cal and the stranger existed in a bubble of timelessness, the outside world and its dangers momentarily held at bay. Their bond, forged in the crucible of danger and necessity, became a testament to the resilience of the human spirit and the unspoken power of the Force.

As they lay there, entwined in the darkness, Cal realised that this stranger was no longer just a saviour or an enigmatic figure from his visions. He had become an ally, a companion in a journey that was far from over. And in the silence of their hiding place, Cal understood that their destinies were irrevocably intertwined, bound together by the unseen threads of the Force.

As the stranger deepened the kiss, Cal was thrust into a Force Echo, a torrent of visions and emotions cascading through his mind. The echo was a maelstrom of past and future, a kaleidoscope of possibilities and memories that threatened to overwhelm him.

Images flashed before his eyes—the stranger’s life laid bare, filled with pain and loss, a journey shadowed by the Empire’s oppression. Then, scenes of Cal’s own past, mirroring his companion’s: his master’s sacrifice, his narrow escapes, his relentless fight against the darkness that consumed the galaxy. Their visions blurred together, a tapestry of intertwined destinies that bound them in ways Cal had never imagined.

As Cal was swept deeper into the maelstrom of the Force Echo, the visions and emotions cascading around him grew more intense, more revealing. The connection established with the stranger through their unexpected kiss had opened a conduit to the past, a stream of consciousness that flowed between them, unearthing hidden truths.

Amid the whirlwind of fragmented images and sensations, a revelation struck Cal with the force of a thunderbolt. The man beside him, the enigmatic figure who had saved his life and now lay pressed against him in their dark refuge, was none other than Marseph, the Jedi Padawan he had sensed on Zeffo.

The realisation was staggering. Marseph, whose presence had lingered like a ghost among the wreckage of the Venator, whose pain and loss Cal had felt resonating through the Force, was alive. He was not just a memory or an echo; he was real, flesh and blood, and he had been hiding in plain sight.

The pieces of the puzzle began to fall into place. Marseph’s life after the fall of the Jedi Order, his escape from the clutches of the Empire, his life under the shadow of anonymity—all of it flashed through Cal’s mind in vivid detail. The profound loss Marseph had suffered, the pain of losing his master, and his struggle to survive in a galaxy that had turned against him mirrored Cal’s own journey.

But there was more to it than shared suffering. Their connection through the Force, now understood, was a bond that transcended mere coincidence. It was as if the Force itself had guided them to each other, two lost souls finding solace and strength in a time of darkness.

As the Force Echo subsided, leaving behind a trail of revelations, Cal and Marseph remained hidden in their cramped shelter, their fates intertwined. The knowledge that Marseph was alive, that he had endured so much and yet had still reached out to save another, filled Cal with a newfound sense of purpose.

The world outside their hiding place was fraught with danger, the Inquisitors a constant threat. But in that moment, in the quiet understanding that passed between them, Cal knew that they were no longer alone in their fight. Together, they were a beacon of hope in the darkness, a reminder that even in the darkest of times, the light of the Jedi could not be extinguished.

Chapter Text

Cal Kestis sat alone in the quiet hull of the Mantis, the once-bustling vessel now filled only with echoes of memories. The ship's hum was familiar, even comforting, but tonight, it was a hollow sound, a reminder of the crew that had gone their separate ways. BD-1 perched on the table beside him, chirping quietly, his glowing red eyes casting a faint glow in the dim light. Cal offered a reassuring pat to his loyal companion, but even BD’s presence couldn’t ease the restlessness churning within him.

They’d been waiting for weeks without word from Saw Gerrera, stranded in a void of uncertainty. Cal was no stranger to hiding and biding his time, but he felt trapped, helpless—a feeling that grew sharper with every passing day. His purpose, once so clear, now felt clouded, diluted. He wanted to fight, to strike at the Empire with everything he had. But without direction, he was just a drifting shadow.

He found his thoughts drifting, inevitably, to the Mantis crew. They had all left for different reasons—each of them needing space, closure, or answers to questions he couldn’t help them with. Cere, with her wisdom and fierce drive, had gone to pursue her own path, seeking something beyond their war. Greez, his grumpy old friend, had left to tend to his cantina, a place he could finally call his own. And Merrin…

Merrin's face lingered longer in his mind than he wanted to admit. The nights they had spent talking, laughing, the easy closeness they'd shared, all felt like ghosts now. She had chosen to stay, chosen to fight with him, but even Merrin needed distance, a chance to explore her own path after everything they had endured. He respected her choice—respected all of their choices. But it didn’t lessen the ache of feeling abandoned, of being left alone with nothing but his memories and the endless, silent stars.

"BD," Cal murmured, breaking the silence, “how long has it been since we heard anything from Saw?"

BD-1 beeped, projecting a timeline of the days they’d spent waiting, a string of empty marks stretching across the screen. Far too long.

Cal leaned back, closing his eyes, willing away the frustration building in his chest. He’d always known this fight would be a lonely one; he’d accepted that he might one day be the last Jedi standing. But knowing it didn’t make it easier, didn’t make the silence less suffocating.

The galaxy was still turning, the Empire still spreading its iron grip across the stars, and he was just…waiting. Every day that passed felt like a day wasted, another day he couldn’t strike, couldn’t help those suffering under the Empire’s heel. The urge to leave, to abandon caution and throw himself into any skirmish he could find, pulled at him like a current. But he was smarter than that—or at least he tried to be. The Mantis had survived this long because they planned, because they were careful.

He opened his eyes, staring out into the empty expanse beyond the Mantis windows. Somewhere out there, his crew was carrying on their lives, doing what they needed to survive, just as he was. But it didn’t make the ache any less potent, didn’t make him feel any less lost.

"Maybe I’m not meant to do this alone,” he muttered, almost to himself. BD-1 chirped softly, a comforting sound, though Cal sensed the little droid shared his frustration.

With a deep breath, Cal stood, shaking off the weight of his thoughts. He could sit here all night, brooding over the past, or he could do something—anything—to prepare for whatever came next. With or without his crew, the fight against the Empire wasn't over, and Cal wasn’t about to let the galaxy slip into darkness without a fight.

"Come on, BD," he said, his voice stronger, more resolute. "Let’s see if we can find something. Someone out there’s gotta need a Jedi."

As he turned to the control panel, ready to reach out for any signal, any whisper of a mission, he knew the emptiness of the Mantis wouldn’t be filled easily. But until his crew returned, if they ever did, he’d be here, waiting, watching, ready for whatever battles lay ahead.

Cal’s fingers moved deftly over the controls, the hum of the Mantis shifting from its idle murmur to a powerful thrum as he powered up the engines. It had been too long since he felt the rush of the ship beneath his hands, the excitement of charting a course with purpose. Tonight, he had a destination—a path forward, if only a faint one.

The planet loomed in his mind, its name whispered like a secret: Nerado. It was an obscure world on the fringes of Imperial charts, barely noted except for the occasional patrol or wayward traveler. But it had been there, amid its twisting streets and towering buildings, that Cal had found something he hadn't known he needed—another Jedi, a man who shared his pain, his purpose, his isolation.

Marseph.

Cal leaned back in the pilot's seat, the coordinates set, his mind drifting to that fateful encounter. He had been on the run, desperate and alone, the Empire’s hunters closing in around him. Marseph had been a stranger at first, a flicker of the Force among the shadows, but when Cal had sensed his power—and Marseph had reached out to save him—it had been like finding a piece of himself that he didn’t know was missing.

Their connection had been intense, raw. The kiss they had shared wasn’t romantic, not in the way people imagined. It was a lifeline, a conduit for their Force bond, a desperate act of survival in the face of certain death. Yet, he couldn’t ignore how that moment had lingered in his mind, how he found himself returning to it over and over, questioning what it meant, if it meant anything at all.

Merrin had found her own way, exploring the boundaries of her heart with Fret, a journey that had been as much about self-discovery as companionship. Cal respected that—applauded it, even. He wanted the same freedom for himself, the same opportunity to explore connections without the looming weight of Jedi dogma hanging over him. The Jedi Council was gone, their rigid rules a relic of the past, and attachment… well, it wasn’t as simple as that. This wasn’t about attachment; it was about understanding, about discovering something larger than himself through another person.

Marseph was out there, somewhere on Nerado, and Cal couldn’t let their paths diverge without answers. He had awoken alone after their last encounter, Marseph’s presence vanished like a ghost, leaving behind only the faintest echo in the Force. It was as if he had been a dream, something conjured by Cal’s own desperation. But Cal knew better. He’d felt Marseph’s heartbeat against his own, shared the strain of hiding from the Inquisitors. That wasn’t something that could be conjured from thin air.

“BD, keep an eye on the readings. We’ll be jumping to hyperspace soon,” he muttered. BD-1 chirped in response, his tone a mix of excitement and apprehension. Cal could sense the droid’s shared curiosity; BD knew the importance of this mission, the sense of unfinished business that clung to them both.

As the Mantis shuddered, the stars stretched and blurred, giving way to the swirling blue of hyperspace. Cal felt a surge of anticipation course through him, a new sense of purpose igniting within. He didn’t know what he’d find on Nerado—if Marseph would even be there, or if he’d vanished again, leaving only the faintest traces of their encounter. But he had to try.

Cal closed his eyes, reaching out with the Force, letting his thoughts drift toward the man who had saved him. The faintest sense of Marseph lingered in his memory, like an ember refusing to fade. It guided him, pulling him forward, giving him the direction he so desperately craved.

Maybe this journey wasn’t about attachment or even companionship. Perhaps it was simply about finding someone who understood, someone who shared the weight of the past and the purpose of the future. As the Mantis soared through hyperspace, Cal knew that whatever lay ahead, he would face it with resolve.

Marseph had vanished once. Cal wasn’t about to let him slip away again.

Chapter Text

Part 1

The Mantis settled onto the cracked landing pad with a groan, its engines winding down as the neon haze of Nerado’s skyline loomed beyond the viewport. The city sprawled before Cal Kestis, a jagged tapestry of towering spires and flickering lights, its air thick with the scent of ozone and distant rain. He stepped out into the humid night, BD-1 perched on his shoulder, the droid’s quiet chirps a steady counterpoint to the restless hum of the planet. Cal’s heart was heavy with purpose, but uncertainty gnawed at its edges. He was back where it had all begun—Marseph’s apartment, the place where their paths had intertwined in a fleeting, desperate moment of survival.

The streets of Nerado were as labyrinthine as he remembered, their twisting alleys and shadowed overhangs pulsing with the city’s chaotic rhythm. Cal moved swiftly, his Jedi senses alert, guiding him through the familiar yet altered paths to the nondescript building tucked amidst the urban sprawl. The once-discreet entrance was now marred by scorch marks and broken panels, a grim marker of the Empire’s wrath. The Inquisitors had been thorough, their presence lingering like a stain in the Force.

Cal climbed the narrow stairwell, each step creaking under his weight, until he reached the door to Marseph’s apartment. It hung ajar, its lock shattered, the frame splintered by a lightsaber’s unmistakable precision. He pushed it open, the faint creak echoing in the stillness. The room beyond was a ruin. Furniture lay overturned, shelves toppled, their sparse contents scattered like leaves in a storm. The walls, once bare but warm with the subtle imprint of a lived-in space, were now scarred with blaster burns and claw-like gouges. The air carried a faint, acrid tang of charred metal, a reminder of the violence that had swept through.

Cal’s chest tightened as he surveyed the wreckage. This had been Marseph’s sanctuary, a fragile bubble of safety carved out in a galaxy that hunted men like them. To see it so thoroughly violated, abandoned in the wake of the Inquisitors’ search, stirred a deep sadness within him. Marseph had risked everything to save him, had given up this haven to protect a stranger—a Jedi. And now, he was gone, vanished into the shadows once more.

“BD, scan the room,” Cal murmured, his voice low, as if speaking too loudly might disturb the ghosts of the place. BD-1 hopped down, his sensors whirring as he began to catalogue the debris, searching for anything that might offer a clue. Cal stepped further inside, his boots crunching on shattered glass. The tattered rug, once a shield for their hidden refuge, lay crumpled in the corner, its edges frayed and singed. He knelt beside it, his fingers brushing the rough fabric, and with a gentle tug, he pulled it aside.

Beneath was the trapdoor, its stone surface scuffed but intact, a silent reminder of their desperate escape. Cal’s breath caught as he traced the edges, memories flooding back—the stifling darkness, the press of Marseph’s forehead against his own, the surge of their shared Force presence as they hid from the Inquisitors. That moment, raw and charged with survival, had forged a bond he couldn’t shake, a connection that had driven him back to this planet, to this very room.

He closed his eyes, reaching out with the Force, letting his senses stretch into the stillness. The apartment was heavy with echoes—pain, fear, the sharp edge of desperation—but beneath it all, something fainter stirred, like a whisper on the wind. Marseph. The sensation was fleeting, a fragile thread woven into the fabric of the Force, but it was enough. He was still here, somewhere on Nerado. The ember of his presence, the same one that had guided Cal through hyperspace, flickered in his mind, distant but undeniable.

“Got something, BD?” Cal asked, opening his eyes as the droid beeped excitedly, projecting a faint hologram of a data chip nestled among the debris. Cal retrieved it, turning the small, dented device over in his hands. It was unremarkable, the kind of tech used by countless beings in the galaxy, but the Force hummed faintly around it, as if it carried a piece of Marseph’s story.

Cal pocketed the chip, his resolve hardening. Marseph was out there, and this ruined apartment was only the beginning. The city of Nerado held answers, and Cal would find them, no matter how deep he had to venture into its shadows.

He moved to a shattered console in the corner, its screen cracked but faintly flickering with residual power. BD-1 scurried over, plugging into the interface with a series of determined beeps. The droid’s lights danced as he worked, coaxing the damaged system to life. After a moment, a fragmented message flickered onto the screen, its audio distorted but intelligible.

“—if you’re seeing this, you’re too late,” a voice rasped, unmistakably Marseph’s, though strained with urgency. “They’re closer than you think. Find the Hollow Market… ask for Vren. She knows where I’ve gone.”

The message cut off abruptly, leaving only static. Cal’s pulse quickened. The Hollow Market—a notorious underbelly of Nerado’s commerce, a maze of black-market stalls and whispered deals. It was a dangerous place, crawling with informants and Imperial spies, but it was a lead. Vren, whoever she was, held the next piece of the puzzle.

“BD, download what’s left of that message,” Cal said, his voice steady despite the surge of adrenaline. “We’re heading to the Hollow Market.”

BD-1 chirped in acknowledgment, his tone a mix of excitement and caution, mirroring Cal’s own emotions. The droid disconnected from the console, hopping back onto Cal’s shoulder as they prepared to leave the apartment. But as Cal turned towards the door, a faint prickle in the Force stopped him in his tracks. It wasn’t Marseph’s presence this time, but something darker, colder—a shadow moving through the city, drawing closer.

The Inquisitors. They hadn’t left Nerado. Or perhaps they’d returned, drawn by the same faint echo of Marseph that Cal had sensed. Either way, time was running out.

Cal tightened his grip on the data chip, his mind racing. The Hollow Market was his next step, but he’d need to move carefully. Nerado’s streets were treacherous, and Vren, whoever she was, might not be an ally. But Marseph was out there, and Cal wouldn’t let him slip away again—not without answers, not without understanding the bond that had saved them both.

Part 2

The Hollow Market pulsed with a chaotic energy, its narrow lanes choked with stalls selling everything from smuggled spice to scavenged droid parts. The air was thick with the mingled scents of grilled street food, engine oil, and the faint metallic tang of desperation. Neon signs flickered overhead, casting jagged shadows across the crowds of traders, mercenaries, and drifters. Cal pulled his hood low, blending into the throng, BD-1 tucked close to his side, scanning for threats. The Force hummed around him, sharper now, Marseph’s presence growing stronger with every step—a beacon of fear and defiance that tugged at Cal’s senses, urging him forward.

He navigated the market’s maze, following the cryptic directions Marseph’s message had implied. Vren was a name whispered in the shadows, a broker of secrets who thrived in Nerado’s underbelly. Cal’s inquiries led him to a dimly lit stall at the market’s edge, its shelves cluttered with salvaged tech and dubious artifacts. A woman stood behind the counter, her sharp eyes scanning the crowd. She was lean, with a tangle of dark hair pulled back in a loose braid, her posture relaxed but calculating. This had to be Vren.

“You Vren?” Cal asked, keeping his voice low, his hand resting near his lightsaber hilt beneath his cloak.

Her gaze flicked to him, assessing, a faint smirk curling her lips. “Depends who’s asking. You don’t look like the usual riffraff.” Her tone was smooth, almost playful, but there was an edge to it, a hint of something guarded.

“I’m looking for someone,” Cal said, stepping closer. “A friend. He said you’d know where to find him.”

Vren’s smirk faded, her eyes narrowing. “Lots of people have friends in Nerado. Doesn’t mean I keep tabs on them all. Got a name?”

“Marseph,” Cal replied, watching her reaction closely. The Force stirred, a ripple of unease emanating from her, though her expression remained unreadable.

“Never heard of him,” she said, too quickly, turning to rearrange a stack of circuit boards. “You sure you’re in the right place, stranger?”

Cal’s instincts flared. She was lying—her guarded posture, the flicker of her gaze, the faint tremor in the Force all betrayed her. Before he could press further, a shadow loomed behind him, followed by the heavy tread of boots. Three local thugs, their faces scarred and their vibroblades glinting, closed in, their intent clear. Vren’s eyes darted to them, a silent signal, and Cal realised he’d walked into a trap.

“BD, stay sharp,” he muttered, spinning to face the thugs as they lunged. The first swung his blade in a wide arc, but Cal was faster, ducking under the strike and shoving the thug back with a Force push. The second charged, only to meet Cal’s fist, enhanced by a surge of the Force, sending him crashing into a nearby stall. The third hesitated, but not for long—Cal ignited his lightsaber, its blue hum cutting through the market’s din, and deflected a thrown blade with a flick of his wrist.

The crowd scattered, screams echoing as Cal sprinted through the market, the remaining thugs in pursuit. Stalls toppled in his wake, crates of goods spilling across the narrow lanes. BD-1 clung to his shoulder, beeping frantically, his sensors tracking the pursuers. Cal vaulted over a cart, using the Force to propel himself onto a low rooftop, then dropped into an alley to lose them. The thugs were relentless, but they were no match for a Jedi. He spun, his lightsaber flashing, and disarmed the lead thug with a precise strike, sending his vibroblade skittering across the ground. A final Force push sent the others sprawling, their retreat marked by curses and the clatter of overturned crates.

Breathing heavily, Cal extinguished his lightsaber, his heart pounding not just from the chase but from a sudden, searing pull in the Force. Marseph’s presence surged, no longer a faint ember but a vivid flame, laced with fear and defiance. Cal stumbled, gripping a nearby wall as a Force echo overwhelmed him. Images flooded his mind—Marseph, bound and bloodied, his eyes fierce despite the pain, surrounded by the cold durasteel walls of an Imperial outpost. The Inquisitors stood over him, their red blades casting an eerie glow. They hadn’t left Nerado. They’d caught him, their hunt ending in a small Imperial base hidden somewhere in the city’s depths.

The vision faded, leaving Cal gasping, the urgency to save Marseph burning in his chest. “He’s alive, BD,” he whispered, his voice raw. “But they’ve got him.”

BD-1 pressed against his leg, emitting a soft, encouraging chirp, as if to say, *We’ve faced worse. Remember Fortress Inquisitorius? We survived that. We can save him.* The droid’s unwavering faith steadied Cal, reminding him of their shared victories, the impossible odds they’d overcome together. If they could infiltrate the heart of the Empire’s Jedi-hunting fortress, they could break into whatever outpost held Marseph now.

Cal’s gaze hardened as he turned back towards the market. Vren had vanished in the chaos, but her betrayal was clear—she’d tipped off the thugs, likely working for the Empire’s coin. Her knowledge of Marseph’s whereabouts made her a loose end he couldn’t ignore, but the pull of Marseph’s presence was stronger, a beacon guiding him towards the truth. The Inquisitors were close, their shadow looming over Nerado, but Cal wouldn’t let them claim another Jedi. Not Marseph. Not after everything they’d shared in that dark hideaway, their foreheads pressed together, their Force bond a lifeline against the darkness.

Part 3

Cal slipped through Nerado’s undercity, the Hollow Market’s chaotic din fading behind him as he followed the pull of Marseph’s presence. The Force guided his steps, a thread of fear and defiance woven through the city’s neon-lit sprawl. BD-1 clung to his back, his sensors humming softly, scanning for Imperial patrols. The data chip in Cal’s pocket felt heavier with each step, its faint Force echo a reminder of Marseph’s desperate message. Vren’s betrayal stung, her quick lies and hired thugs a clear sign she was playing both sides, likely pocketing Imperial credits while keeping her own agenda. But Cal couldn’t dwell on her now—Marseph was in danger, and every moment brought the Inquisitors closer to breaking him.

The Imperial outpost loomed ahead, a squat, fortified structure carved into the base of a derelict refinery tower on Nerado’s industrial fringe. Its durasteel walls were pitted with rust, a deceptive façade hiding the Empire’s meticulous defenses. Floodlights swept the perimeter, their beams cutting through the humid mist, while probe droids hovered silently, their red optics scanning for intruders. A pair of stormtroopers stood guard at the main entrance, their chatter muffled by the distant rumble of machinery. The outpost was small, a temporary base for the Inquisitors’ hunt, but its isolation made it no less deadly—cameras lined the walls, and Cal sensed the faint hum of automated turrets hidden within the structure.

He crouched behind a stack of rusted cargo crates, his breath steady as he reached out with the Force. Marseph’s presence was stronger now, a vivid pulse of emotions—fear, sharp and jagged, but laced with a stubborn defiance that mirrored Cal’s own. They were both survivors of Order 66, young men who’d watched their masters fall, their worlds shattered by betrayal. Cal’s mind drifted to the Venator wreckage on Zeffo, where he’d sensed Marseph’s echo, a ghost he’d believed lost. Marseph had been clever, manipulating his Force presence to make others think he’d perished, a shield of anonymity that had kept him hidden until now. He’d endured too much, carved out a life in the shadows, only to be caught because he’d risked it all to save Cal. That debt weighed heavy, a pull Cal couldn’t ignore.

His thoughts lingered on that moment in the hideaway, their kiss, more than just a physical action, the surge of the Force binding them in a desperate bid for survival. It had been a lifeline, a conduit of shared strength, but there was something more—a spark Cal hadn’t expected, a warmth that lingered beyond the necessity of the moment. Was it the beginnings of something deeper, a connection that could grow into more than camaraderie? The Jedi Code, with its rigid bans on attachment, was gone, crumbled with the Order, yet Cal hesitated. Marseph’s defiance, his sacrifice, deserved more than fleeting thoughts of what might be. He deserved to be saved.

“BD, we’re going in quiet,” Cal whispered, his voice firm despite the turmoil in his chest. “Find me an access point.”

BD-1 chirped softly, a reassuring sound that steadied Cal’s nerves. The droid’s faith in him was unshakable, forged through battles like their infiltration of Fortress Inquisitorius. If they could breach the Empire’s deadliest stronghold, this outpost was just another hurdle. BD-1 scurried down, his tiny legs clicking against the crates as he interfaced with a nearby terminal. His lights flickered, hacking into the outpost’s security grid with a series of rapid beeps. A side vent hissed open, its grate clattering softly to the ground, revealing a narrow maintenance shaft.

“Good work, buddy,” Cal said, giving BD-1 an affectionate pat. The droid responded with a proud trill, as if to say, *We’ve got this.* Cal slipped into the shaft, the Force cloaking his presence as he moved silently through the cramped, dimly lit tunnel. The air was stale, thick with the tang of oil and metal, the outpost’s inner workings humming around him. BD-1 followed, his sensors scanning for alarms.

They emerged into a corridor lined with durasteel panels, its sterile silence broken only by the distant clank of stormtrooper boots. Cal pressed himself against the wall, reaching out with the Force to sense Marseph’s location. The connection was stronger now, a vivid flare of emotions—fear battling defiance, pain threading through resolve. Marseph was close, likely in a detention cell deeper within the outpost. The thought of him bound, facing the Inquisitors’ blades, sent a surge of urgency through Cal. He wouldn’t let another Jedi fall, not when he could fight for him.

“BD, disable the alarms,” Cal murmured, pointing to a control panel ahead. BD-1 hopped forward, plugging into the system with a determined chirp. His lights danced as he bypassed the outpost’s security, silencing the alarms before they could trigger. But as Cal moved towards the detention block, a patrol of stormtroopers rounded the corner, their blasters raised. Cal froze, his hand hovering over his lightsaber, but BD-1 acted first, darting across the corridor with a loud, distracting beep. The troopers spun, firing wildly at the scampering droid, giving Cal the opening he needed.

He lunged, the Force propelling him forward as he knocked one trooper unconscious with a precise strike, then used a Force pull to yank the other’s blaster away. A quick shove sent the second trooper crashing into the wall, slumping to the floor. BD-1 returned, chirping triumphantly, and Cal couldn’t help but smile. “You’re a lifesaver, BD,” he said, the droid’s loyalty a steady anchor in the chaos.

They pressed deeper into the outpost, the Force guiding Cal towards Marseph. His thoughts churned, circling back to their shared moment in the hideaway. That spark, that fleeting warmth—could it be more? Marseph’s survival, his clever deception on Zeffo, his choice to save Cal despite the cost—it all spoke of a strength that resonated with Cal’s own. The possibility of something deeper, a connection beyond their shared fight, flickered in his mind, both thrilling and terrifying. But first, he had to find him.

Part 4

Cal moved deeper into the Imperial outpost, the durasteel corridors closing in around him like a vice. The air was heavy with the sterile chill of Imperial efficiency, punctuated by the faint hum of machinery and the occasional crackle of a comms unit. BD-1 clung to his shoulder, his sensors whirring as he scanned for security systems. Marseph’s presence burned brighter in the Force now, a pulsing beacon of fear, defiance, and pain that pulled Cal forward with an urgency he couldn’t ignore. The outpost’s defenses—probe droids, automated turrets, and roving patrols—were formidable, but Cal’s Jedi training and BD-1’s quick hacks kept them one step ahead.

They reached the detention block, a dimly lit hall lined with reinforced cells, their doors sealed with magnetic locks. Cal’s heart raced as he followed the Force’s pull to a cell at the far end. The air grew thicker, laced with the coppery scent of blood and the faint hum of a containment field. He knelt before the door, reaching out with the Force to confirm—Marseph was inside, his presence a flickering flame, weakened but unbroken.

“BD, get this door open,” Cal whispered, his voice taut with urgency. BD-1 hopped down, plugging into the cell’s control panel with a series of determined beeps. His lights flickered rapidly as he bypassed the lock, while Cal kept watch, his senses alert for any sign of trouble. The droid’s next task was swift—he interfaced with a nearby security terminal, disabling the corridor’s cameras with a triumphant chirp. The cell door hissed open, revealing a shadowed interior.

Cal stepped inside, his breath catching at the sight. Marseph lay slumped against the wall, his wrists bound by energy cuffs, his clothes torn and stained with blood. His face was bruised, one eye swollen shut, his breathing shallow and ragged. The sight of him—broken, yet still radiating a stubborn defiance through the Force—sent a pang through Cal’s chest. Marseph had survived Order 66, outwitted the Empire by masking his presence in the Venator wreckage, and risked everything to save Cal. To see him like this, so close to being snuffed out, was almost too much to bear.

“Marseph,” Cal murmured, kneeling beside him. He gently lifted the other man’s face, his fingers brushing against bloodied skin. Marseph’s eyes fluttered open, hazy with pain but sparking with recognition. “It’s me. I’ve got you.”

“Cal…” Marseph’s voice was a hoarse whisper, barely audible. “You… shouldn’t be here.”

“Save your strength,” Cal said, his tone firm but soft. He sliced through the energy cuffs with his lightsaber, its blue glow casting stark shadows across the cell. As he helped Marseph to his feet, the other man’s weight sagged against him, his body trembling with exhaustion. Cal’s mind flashed to their moment in the hideaway—the press of their forbidden kiss, the surge of their shared Force presence, a lifeline in the dark. That spark, that fleeting warmth, stirred again, no longer just a necessity of survival. There was something deeper, a pull that made Cal’s heart ache with a possibility he hadn’t dared name. Could this bond, forged in shared pain and defiance, grow into something more?

Before he could dwell on it, a cold presence sliced through the Force, sharp and predatory. Cal spun, shoving Marseph behind him as a figure emerged from the corridor’s shadows. An Inquisitor, clad in sleek black armour, their red lightsaber igniting with a sinister hum. It wasn’t one Cal recognised—no familiar sneer of the Second Sister or the brutal menace of the Ninth. This was a new threat, their face hidden behind a visor, their movements precise and calculating.

“Jedi,” the Inquisitor hissed, their voice modulated but dripping with malice. “You’ve walked into your own grave.”

Cal ignited his lightsaber, its blue blade steady in his grip. “BD, keep Marseph safe,” he ordered, his voice low. BD-1 chirped urgently, positioning himself beside Marseph, his tiny frame a defiant shield. The droid’s loyalty bolstered Cal’s resolve—he’d faced worse odds, and he wouldn’t let this Inquisitor take another Jedi from him.

The Inquisitor lunged, their red blade slashing in a vicious arc. Cal parried, the clash of lightsabers sparking in the dim corridor. The fight was swift, almost too easy. The Inquisitor was skilled, but Cal’s training and the Force’s clarity gave him the edge. He dodged a spinning strike, using the Force to hurl a nearby crate at his opponent, staggering them. With a fluid motion, he closed the distance, his lightsaber slicing through the Inquisitor’s defenses. The red blade fell silent as the Inquisitor collapsed, a fatal wound ending the fight. Cal stood over them, his chest heaving, the weight of taking a life settling heavily despite the necessity. There was no other way—not with Marseph’s life on the line.

He turned back to Marseph, who was barely conscious, slumped against the wall with BD-1 at his side. “Come on,” Cal said, his voice gentle but urgent. He slid an arm under Marseph’s shoulders, lifting him carefully, his other arm supporting his waist. Marseph’s weight was heavy, his body limp, but Cal held him close, the warmth of his presence a stark contrast to the outpost’s cold durasteel. As they moved through the corridors, BD-1 darted ahead, hacking into security panels to disable cameras and open blast doors, his chirps a steady rhythm of encouragement.

Cal’s thoughts raced as he carried Marseph, the other man’s shallow breaths a constant reminder of the stakes. They were both survivors, bound by the loss of their masters, by the scars of Order 66. Marseph had hidden his survival with cunning, masking his Force presence to evade the Empire, yet he’d risked it all for Cal. That act, that moment of their shared intimate moment, lingered in Cal’s mind. It wasn’t just survival—it was a connection, a spark that could kindle into something more. The thought of losing Marseph now, after finding him again, was unbearable. His heart beat faster, not just from the effort of carrying him, but from the quiet hope that they might have a chance to explore what this bond could become.

They reached the Mantis, its ramp lowering as BD-1 sent a remote signal. Cal carried Marseph inside, laying him gently on the medbay cot. BD-1 hopped onto the console, chirping softly, his lights flickering with concern but also reassurance. *We did it, Cal,* the droid seemed to say. *He’s safe now.*

Cal knelt beside Marseph, checking his wounds. The other man’s eyes flickered open, meeting Cal’s with a faint, weary smile. “You… came back,” Marseph whispered, his voice barely audible.

“Always,” Cal replied, his voice thick with emotion. He brushed a strand of blood-matted hair from Marseph’s face, his touch lingering a moment longer than necessary. The spark was there, undeniable, a quiet promise of something that could grow—if they survived long enough to let it.

Part 5

The Mantis roared to life, Cal’s hands trembling as he assessed the other man’s wounds—deep gashes, burns, and bruises that spoke of brutal torture. Marseph’s breathing was shallow, his face pale beneath the blood and grime, yet his eyes held a flicker of defiance that stirred Cal’s resolve. BD-1 hopped onto the console, plugging into the ship’s systems with a series of urgent beeps, setting the Mantis on autopilot to lift off from Nerado’s industrial fringe.

“Hold on, Marseph,” Cal murmured, grabbing a medkit and working quickly to clean and bandage the worst of the wounds. The Force pulsed between them, their bond a faint thread of warmth amidst the pain. But before he could do more, the ship shuddered, alarms blaring as BD-1 emitted a frantic chirp. Cal glanced at the viewport—Imperial TIE fighters screamed through the neon-lit sky, their lasers grazing the Mantis’s hull.

“BD, keep us steady!” Cal shouted, rushing to the cockpit. He slid into the pilot’s seat, his hands flying over the controls as he juked the ship through Nerado’s towering spires, dodging blasts. The TIEs were relentless, their formation tightening, but Cal’s instincts were sharper. He spun the Mantis into a narrow canyon of industrial towers, the fighters struggling to follow. BD-1, still plugged in, calculated a hyperspace jump, his lights flickering as he processed coordinates under pressure.

A new shadow loomed on the sensors—a Star Destroyer entering the system, its massive form blotting out the stars. Cal’s heart pounded, but he kept his focus, weaving through the city’s underbelly until BD-1’s triumphant beep signalled the jump was ready. “Now, BD!” Cal yelled, slamming the lever forward. The Mantis lurched, stars stretching into the swirling blue of hyperspace as the TIEs and the Star Destroyer vanished behind them.

Cal exhaled, his hands still gripping the controls, then hurried back to the medbay. Marseph’s condition had worsened, his breathing erratic, his pulse weak. Cal’s chest tightened as he injected a stim from the medkit, BD-1 chirping anxiously at his side. The stim’s effect was minimal, a brief flicker of stability that faded quickly as Marseph’s vitals continued to decline. Cal knelt beside him, his hands hovering over the bandages, desperate to do more.

Marseph’s eyes fluttered open, hazy but focused, finding Cal’s. “Cal…” he rasped, his voice barely a whisper. “They… caught me not long after I left you. I split off… thought you’d have a better chance to escape.”

Cal’s throat tightened, guilt and grief warring within him. “You shouldn’t have done that,” he said, his voice cracking. “I would’ve fought with you.”

Marseph managed a faint smile, pain etching his features. “The Inquisitor… he sensed you’d come for me. Tortured me to draw you out. Kept me alive… just for that.”

The words hit Cal like a blow. Marseph had endured agony to protect him, to give him a chance to escape, only to become bait. Their bond, forged in that dark hideaway, pulsed stronger now, a lifeline Cal clung to. He thought of their moment together, their foreheads pressed in desperation, the spark that had lingered beyond survival. As he looked at Marseph, broken but defiant, that spark flared again—a possibility of something more, something forbidden in the days of the Jedi Temple.

“Do you remember the Temple?” Marseph whispered, his voice gaining a fleeting strength. “We were younglings… I saw you, always so focused, so brave. I… felt drawn to you, even then. Never had the courage to approach you. Those feelings… they were forbidden.”

Cal’s breath caught, memories stirring. He hadn’t remembered Marseph before the Venator wreckage, his face lost among the countless younglings training under the Jedi’s watchful eyes. But now, the echo of that time surfaced—a quiet boy in the training halls, always watching, always just out of reach. “I didn’t know,” Cal admitted softly, his voice thick. “I wish I had.”

Marseph’s hand trembled as he lifted it, brushing weakly against Cal’s cheek. Cal leaned into the touch, his heart aching with the weight of what might have been. Tears welled in his eyes, spilling over as he whispered, “Don’t leave me, Marseph. We just found each other.”

Marseph’s gaze softened, a quiet resolve in his fading eyes. “Kiss me, Cal,” he murmured, his voice barely audible. “Please.”

Cal hesitated, the Jedi Code’s shadow flickering in his mind, but it was gone, a relic of a lost era. He leaned down, his lips meeting Marseph’s in a gentle, passionate kiss, their Force bond flaring with an intensity that rivalled their moment in the hideaway. The connection surged, a flood of warmth and shared strength, and for a fleeting moment, Cal hoped it might anchor Marseph, might pull him back from the edge.

But the bond faltered, Marseph’s strength ebbing like a tide. Cal broke the kiss, his tears falling freely as he sensed the life draining from the man he’d come to save. “Stay with me,” he pleaded, his voice breaking. “Please.”

“Remember… this moment,” Marseph whispered, his hand slipping from Cal’s face, his eyes growing vacant as he slipped into the Force forever.

Cal sat frozen, his tears staining the medbay floor, Marseph’s lifeless form cradled in his arms. Time blurred, the hum of the Mantis a distant echo as grief consumed him. How much more could he lose? His master, his crew, now Marseph—the one who’d understood his pain, who’d sparked something new in his heart, only to be torn away.

BD-1’s soft chirps broke the silence, the droid nudging against Cal’s leg, his lights dim with sorrow but steady with support. Cal looked down, managing a broken smile. “Thanks, BD,” he whispered, his voice raw. The droid’s presence, unwavering through every loss, was a lifeline in the dark.

He took a shuddering breath, his gaze returning to Marseph’s still face. “Set a course for Zeffo,” he said quietly. “He belongs with his Master. They should rest together.”

BD-1 beeped in acknowledgment, hopping back to the console to input the coordinates. The Mantis hummed as it adjusted its path, carrying Cal and Marseph towards Zeffo, towards a final farewell. In the quiet of the medbay, Cal held Marseph’s hand, the memory of their kiss a bittersweet ember in his heart—a bond that had burned brightly, if only for a moment, before fading into the Force.