rebuilder | dathomirs | i'm still fighting, i don't fear i've lost

dathomirs | i'm still fighting, i don't fear i've lost

To his credit, Cal does not remember that ledge being there.

He'd thought -- even as BD beeped a warning about the terrain being unsteady and uneven, that it'd be fine. Only eight stormtroopers, cake. He didn't count on the purge trooper coming out of literally nowhere and hitting him so hard that he felt the vibrations all down his arm as he strained to block what would've been a very deadly blow.

Kriff, he hates these guys. Cal scores a few hits on the heavy plastoid armor, pushing the trooper back, back away from the edge of the cliff. They'd come here to investigate a possible Jedi temple hidden somewhere on the planet, of course Imps were already crawling the place much to their displeasure. If they found it first, they'd ruin it, desecrate it, steal everything within - just as they did with everything else. Bogano. Illum. Kashyyk.

So maybe it was a lot personal.

He parried, blocked, pushed the trooper back and raised an arm to deliver a finishing strike. However, it left him an opening, allowing the trooper to land a hit against him, hard, knocking him back slightly. Cal tried to regain his focus but in those few moments it was all it took for the purge trooper to gain the upper hand and shove him back, putting him on the offensive. His arms ached, ribs burned with exertion. He ducked and dodged, rolling out of the way and found himself a bit too close to the edge. That was what he was trying to avoid.

He had to do something. He only had one chance, wearing out and already injured - he needed to end this.

So he lunged.

Driving his lightsaber into the armor as the trooper aimed another well placed shot - as he wrenched his saber free, his feet danced on the edge of the cliff, overbalancing and falling.

It wasn't a huge drop, but it wasn't an exactly straight one either. Outcroppings and ending on a slope, he was unconscious before he reached the bottom, his limp body coming to total stop several feet from the bottom.

--

Something was nudging him. Just give him five more minutes, he'll get up for work -- something shrill sounded in his air drawing a gasp from Cal as his eyes flew open.

BD-1 was jumping around him, trying to get him to wake up; when he saw he was up, he moved forward, beeping questioningly. Awareness washed over him, as did the pain.

"Ow, oh shit..." Ribs, possibly broken, definitely bruised. Blood dripped into his eyes from a cut. With the way everything blurred and distorted, and doubled in his vision - probably concussed. Definitely not good. He couldn't tell what else was broken or bruised, didn't think he could get up to find out. "I don't know if I can, buddy..." he mumbled in response to the question. The ground was shifting under him, rocking and rolling - he couldn't recall what he said when he pulled out his commlink with the arm that wasn't pinned under neath him to radio the ship, who answered him... anything.

Losing the fight with consciousness was a relief, even as BD continued to nudge him awake.

[ boop ]

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Merrin appears in a flash of green, having declared it too risky for Greez to land nearby until she was able to determine what they were dealing with. Cere wasn't here, and Cal was down for the count if his barely-coherent request for help was anything to go by. That meant she was it as far as fighters were concerned. Fortunately Cal had succeeded in taking out all but one; Merrin finishes the already dying Purge Trooper swiftly before reappearing next to Cal a moment later.

"All right, BD. I'll take it from here. Out of stims, I assume?"

The droid boops a sad affirmative as Merrin kneels down and takes a quick survey of Cal's injuries. He's not obviously bleeding out, at least, but that doesn't tell her anything about how capable he's going to be of getting back to the Mantis for further care. There's nothing else for it; her magick can't heal as effectively as it can lend strength -- enough to pull a Jedi with a penchant for falling off things back to consciousness, she hopes.

"I apologize for this, but our options are limited."

Her eyes glow green as her hands hover delicately on either side of Cal's head. She brushes a bit of hair out of his face before unleashing her magick, which winds its way around him in a swirl of brilliant green as it attempts to draw the unconscious human back to the land of the waking.

Cal is deeply out for the count when Merrin arrives next to him in her usual flare. Deeply unaware of any pain, even to the point that it could be the best rest that he's got in... a little bit. But it's definitely not the good kind, or the willing kind.

This time, when he comes to, thanks her magic, it's not a slow and steady climb back to awareness but the sudden painful joint of being thrown back into his body. His very injured body. Like hitting the ground all over again, just awake to feel it this time. It's sudden, sudden enough that he isn't able to stop the strangled cry that escapes him, or how he tries to curl in on himself, breathe through it. Which do no favors for anything that he's feeling. Dimly Cal is aware of BD beeping questions, and occasionally nudging at him.

"...'m up." He opens his eyes. The ground is still shifting underneath him, and he's pretty sure that Merrin does not have a twin, but that's not what his eyes are telling him.

Edited 2023-08-23 03:00 (UTC)

"No sudden movements. You fell off a cliff."

Merrin's tone has an edge of sharpness to it that only comes out with Cal when she's truly concerned, though she works with a calm efficiency that betrays none of her inner turmoil. This isn't the worst she's seen Cal by a long shot, but these incidents are becoming distressingly frequent for her liking. He's gotten reckless of late, ever since Cere said she was taking some time to assist some scholars she'd found on Jedha and hadn't given a clear answer as to when or even if she might return.

Merrin takes the comm device from Cal's hand and turns her attention to their pilot, who answers her summon with a great deal more evident distress.

"You're clear to land. Make it close. He will be fine, but walking may be a challenge."

With that done, she returns her focus to her altogether too incautious Jedi.

"Do you think you can sit up? Slowly?"

She can teleport them either way, but she'd like to know how badly he's managed to injure himself to begin with.

"That son of a Gundark, hit like a Rancor." He doesn't miss the undertone in her voice, it's been directed at him enough times to know that she is concerned for his wellbeing, but certainly frustrated. It's fine, Cal is pretty frustrated with himself - for his error, for getting hurt in the first place. Getting hurt means sitting still to recover, and sitting still has never really been something he's good at.

Call it a consequence of never really having any chance to do just that.

Merrin speaks to someone over his comm - Greez, likely. He doesn't pay attention, trying to better gauge and take stock of what he'd done to his body this time.

"Yeah. Just.. give me a moment. Pretty sure my ribs are broken." With a grunt, he's slowly maneuvering himself to sit up, ignoring the bright flashes of pain and how his body is screaming at him to lie back down.

"You're very lucky if that's all you've broken."

She says it with a degree of exasperated affection as she helps him sit up, ready to intervene and catch him should he have underestimated the damage after all. The sound of a ship approaching tells her that Greez has received her message and removes some of the tension from her posture, though she still looks ready to spring back into battle should a rogue Stormtrooper appear before they're ready to move.

She turns her attention back to Cal, her eyes searching his and finding them distressingly unfocused.

"You were difficult to rouse. How is your head?"

The ground, from his fall. It feels as though he should be lying in a hole made from the impact of landing as hard as he did. Cal quickly closes his eyes as the sudden change in position disagrees with him that results in a bout of dizziness and the urge to be sick. It's the feeling he gets when he's thrown out of a very intense echo, just a bit more... painful.

Breathing through it would be an option, if not for the ribs. It's not as if Merrin hasn't seen him in worse predicaments, he just doesn't want to throw up in front of her. There's enough pride and dignity (not much, mind) left over to be embarrassed by that prospect.

"... I'll tell you when everything stops moving." He bites through clenched teeth.

Oh yeah, that's definitely a concussion.

It wouldn't be the first time, and Merrin is unfazed by nearly any condition Cal manages to get himself at this point. She can sympathize, however.

"Keep your eyes closed. Greez is nearly here."

The command is kind, but firm, as Merrin comes to a quick decision between two equally uncomfortable options. Teleportation is disorienting and will be tiring for her even to take the two of them such a short distance, but getting Cal on his feet and risking aggravating his injuries further seems even less advisable, particularly if his balance and vision are compromised.

Greez has managed to land approximately right next to them, at least, and not on top of any of the cliffs. BD is already racing ahead the minute the ramp begins to lower, most likely to start rounding up all the medical supplies he can get his little feet onto.

"Keep hold of my hands and don't open your eyes until you feel solid ground," she orders, uncorking the tiny bottle of ichor she keeps around her neck and drawing a circle around them before taking both of Cal's hands in hers and uttering a brief chant.

A moment later, the ground beneath them seems to fade out of existence and there's the brief sensation of something between falling and flying before they materialize again on the floor of the ship's main hold. She opens her own eyes immediately, checking to be sure the trip hasn't harmed Cal beyond whatever unavoidable disorientation it's caused.

Edited 2023-08-24 20:28 (UTC)

"...yeah, alright." It is all about he trusts himself to say at this very point, keeping himself still and focused on anything but the dizzying, swooping sensation of Merrin teleporting them both. It's not the first time she's done it with Cal and it probably will not be the last but it's not something that he's used to - and this is from someone who climbs to dizzying heights, jumping from ledges that would have most people frozen on the spot.

(None of this would've happened if he had a jetpack).

Yeah. This isn't going to end well. He quickly lets go of Merrin's hands and draws on the force to pull what's hopefully a wastebasket towards him, knees hitting the deck.

Throwing up with broken ribs is awful, but dry heaving is worse. Cal does both of those things in that order, regretting only having caf and a dried fruit bar for breakfast when it burns his throat all the way up. When he's finished, he slumps down against the sofa, ribs and head aching in tandem with his racing pulse. He wants to say that he can't remember the last time he was hurt like this, except he can - it was barely a full month cycle ago.

BD chirps a quick message, causing Cal to crack open an eye to look at the droid.

"No, don't need to shock me - 'm awake.."

Merrin winces in sympathy and then steps out of the room to deal with Greez, who has immediately started shouting about how no one had better make a mess of his sofa for approximately the eleven thousandth time in her years of traveling with him. She returns a few moments later, allowing Cal some privacy while gathering up the supplies she needs, and then shoos BD aside so she can sit down on the floor next to Cal again.

"No shocking, and no stims. We're running low and they'll only mask the concussion; I need to know how bad it is."

BD chirps something sullen in response and moves to sit on Cal's other side, allowing Merrin space to work. She hands Cal a bottle of water and an ice pack for his head, and then frowns at the small box of supplies.

"Can you hold still while I wrap your ribs? We're out of pre-treated bacta patches, so it will take a little longer, but then you can lie down more comfortably while I look at that head wound."

Cal doesn't have the energy to yell back, but he scoffs and almost wishes he'd gone for his precious sofa cushions just to be petty. Except sometimes he sleeps on that sofa, so maybe not. He'd just about to ask BD about a stim, and promptly closes his mouth on that request. Merrin is right, it wouldn't really do anything to get rid of it.

He gives his friend a pat with one hand before taking the offered water bottle and pack with a quiet thanks. She's annoyed with him, or at the very least unhappy and he can't blame her - but he also doesn't know what to do to change that, or address it...

... so he doesn't.

Taking a long and careful pull of the water and letting the cooling relief of the ice soothe some of the aching in his skull.

No bacta. Recovery was gonna take longer than he wanted. Idiot, he chides himself again for letting that kriffing bastard get the drop on him. All that time wasted while he can't do anything. "Sure." Sitting up straighter to give her better access to his ribs.

"Hey, Mer?"

It's not so bad; they do have a small tube of bacta gel that's probably still reasonably fresh. It's just not as effective or convenient as the patches that stay fresh and sealed and stick immediately to the injured area without any other fuss. They can stop to restock in a few days, but privately Merrin's relieved that this way means he'll have to actually rest.

"Don't talk yet," she chides him gently as she moves his shirt so she can get access to apply the vaguely sticky gel to the areas where dark purple bruises had already started to form. She works as quickly and efficiently as she can while being mindful that she doesn't put any unnecessary pressure on the affected ribs as she bandages them. She doesn't want to cause him any more pain, though he's correct in his assessment of her annoyance.

Once that's done, she sits back on her heels and assesses her work.

"Acceptable, for now. You wanted to tell me something?"

He nods. And then quickly regrets the action, lapsing into silence as Merrin works on taping him back together. She's surprisingly gentle as she applies the bacta over the worst of the bruising. He tries not to watch or look at the dark marks left on his skin - blood has never particularly bothered him, it comes with the territory - but seeing his own is somewhat of a weird out of body experience.

Cal tries to keep his reaction neutral, biting down on any pained noises that want to come out, instead opting for an occasional swear in Huttese. It at least keeps him grounded, from closing his eyes and letting the sleep he so desperately desires take over.

When she's done, he takes a breath, the pain has been dulled by the bacta at least slightly and his torso is more bandage than flesh but... he drops his shirt back over himself.

"Oh. Um. Thank you. I..." He swallows, casting his eyes on the ground. "I'm sorry."

"Cal..."

Her expression softens, her heart quietly breaking in ways she's not sure she can or should explain. She isn't angry with him, and she certainly doesn't require an apology from him for getting hurt, nor thanks for doing the same thing they'd done for one another countless times before. Injury came with the territory, but it had been happening more often to Cal of late, and needlessly, in Merrin's opinion.

She shakes her head almost imperceptibly and returns to the task at hand, reaching for the ice pack so she can get a closer look at the damage it's covering. She's gentle as she pushes Cal's hair aside so she can see the wound beneath, and purses her lips in thought once she does.

"Let me try something. Bacta won't heal it entirely, and your hair will only end up sticky. You have to stay awake for a few more hours either way."

Merrin has often complained that healing is much harder than hurting with her magick, but given how often Cal requires the former, she's put some effort into learning. The green glow of her magick is a small trickle this time, gentler than the one she'd used to wake him. She runs mist-encircled fingertips through his hair and allows the magick to find the place where the pain is most concentrated and draw it away slowly, mindful of her tendency to be too forceful at times.

When she's reasonably sure she's done all she can for the moment, she sits back and looks Cal over again with uncertain appraisal.

"Is it better?"

It's safe to say that he hasn't really been doing that great. He feels unmoored and at a loss, so he does what he does the best and that's throw himself headlong into things without really thinking. It's just that usually those things were fighting - Cal would be a fool not to notice the concerned looks he gets from Greez, or the way that Merrin's looking at him right now. Hell, even BD, who's not one to turn down a good adventure thinks he's going at it too hard.

The loss of Cere was another reminder that there are more ways to lose someone - he'd been shocked, and he wonders who's going to go next. Greez? Merrin? BD?

The tendrils of magic that weave through his skull and her gentle touch draw him from his thoughts before they can stray too much darker. His head still aches like the aftermath of a bad migraine, and the dizziness is still there, but. It's better.

He reaches up to touch the place that had been the worst of things with his uninjured hand and finds it doesn't feel like someone dropped an entire train on top of him. He smiles, a look that doesn't really reach his eyes.

"That's... a lot better. Thanks Merrin." A pause. "I'm going to lie down - no, I won't go to sleep, I promise."

Edited 2023-08-26 21:19 (UTC)

Merrin purses her lips again as though about to say something else entirely, and then nods.

"You can use my room if you like. It's quieter, and the lights are dimmer."

And she'll be in to check on him once she's done cleaning up out here a bit. There's a box of medical supplies to put away and one unfortunate wastebasket to deal with, and she's likely to want to talk Greez down from some manner of ill-conceived lecturing or worse, hovering.

She stands and offers Cal a hand up, not failing for one second to note that he's favoring one arm as though he's injured it as well. She's not sure at what point she became someone he could no longer trust to help as much as she used to, whether out there or in here. But he wants space, and he's respected her own need for the same enough that she can give him some... for now.

"Alright." Another smile as he shakily climbs to his feet, BD leading the way/perhaps making sure he doesn't faceplant down the few feet to the bunks. The tingling of the bacta covering the worst of the pain for now and the magic had done something for the head pain. Cal still feels lightheaded, but it's not as bad as it was and mostly... mostly he's tired. Bone weary exhausted, and the call of a bed and lying horizontal for a few hours is all too alluring.

Right. No sleeping.

"I'm okay, just tired. I'm gonna go lie down in Merrin's room. You gonna go charge?" Affirmative beeps. "Alright. Night." He watches the droid scamper to his usual spot before continuing, using the wall for support as he trudges down towards the bunks. He sits down on the edge of her bed, taking in how incredibly... Merrin her room is. It occurs that he should change his clothes or take off his boots, but the effort sounds insurmountable at this point as Cal slumps down to the side and into the pillows.

If she's not back in the next five minutes, he will be curled up and sound asleep by the time she's there.

Edited 2023-08-27 05:22 (UTC)

It takes her a good fifteen minutes to return, not least because she'd wanted to give him some space. But her concern for him hasn't quieted by the time she walks through the door to find him doing the exact thing he'd just promised her he wouldn't.

It wouldn't hurt so badly if he'd been honest with her. If all signs weren't pointing to the trust between them somehow having been damaged in a way she can't fathom.

She sits at the edge of the bed carefully so as not to disturb him in spite of the fact that he very much ought to be disturbed, if only long enough to get his filthy boots off her bunk. She starts untying them without comment, deciding he can sleep long enough for her to solve the smaller problem while she sorts out what she's going to do about the one that's making her hearts ache.

"Why have you lost faith in me, Cal Kestis?" she whispers, barely audible, not respecting a response from the apparently sound-asleep Jedi.

Exhaustion might've won against his promise not to sleep, but Cal isn't the soundest of sleepers and when she starts undoing his boots he slowly emerges out of his sleep, though his eyes remain closed. He doesn't need the force to feel the ache of her sorrow, deep enough that it cuts him like a knife.

Cal almost misses Merrin's words, obviously not meant for him to hear but he draws a breath anyways. Wordlessly, he reaches over to take her hand, opening his eyes to look at her - really look at her. Still hazy from sleep and a concussion but there's no waver in his voice.

"I haven't lost any faith in you. Only myself."

"You say this, but there was no need for you to go out there alone today. The two of us would've made short work of those Troopers, and you know I would have never let you fall. At least, you used to."

She traces over a scrape on the palm of his hand where it's clear he tried to stop himself without using the Force, a testament to how wrong today's accident was. But he'd been doing this for weeks now, pushing himself past the point of exhaustion, to the point of making careless mistakes, and seeming to come back even more determined to push himself even harder in response. As though he were the only one who could possibly right an entire galaxy's worth of wrongs.

"This isn't like you. Help me understand."

"That's just it." He replies quietly after a beat. "I'm not sure I even understand. I just feel so... lost. Afraid. Constantly." Nightmares plague him both in sleep and his waking hours. Saying it out loud, it sounds stupid even to his ears but he can't shake the images of her lying there cold and un-moving after their fight with the Fifth Brother... after Cere had told him to slow down and Merrin had been injured because he had failed.

Cal pushes himself back up with his good hand and a groan, ignoring the pull on his ribs or how the room sways slightly to meet her eyes.

"... and if I know one thing it's that I can't bear the thought of losing you."

Merrin's brow furrows deeply and she is silent as she runs a hand lightly over his injured wrist to see if he's done more than merely sprain it. Finding nothing broken, she meets his gaze with disappointment and hurt written plainly on her features.

"Then you do not trust me. You do not believe I can take care of myself."

She withdraws her hand, feeling stung. She was injured far more infrequently than Cal, but it had happened. The last time she'd had to stay off her feet for the better part of a week, but she'd been fine. It was nothing worse than Cal did to himself nearly every time he went out now.

"Do you think I am any more fond of the idea of losing you? That I would willingly allow you to be hurt in my place because you have forgotten that I am capable of holding my own?"

He lets his gaze skitter away as her eyes meet his, awash with so much disappointment and hurt, the knowledge that it was his fault - he put it there. Unable to do anything right, push away all the people important to him with his actions and words when all he wanted to do was the right thing. By them, and by himself.

For a moment he just stares down at their hands.

"I didn't mean to imply that you can't handle yourself, I just..." Cal sighs... if he's honest, he's not even sure he knows where these feelings are coming from exactly, why he can't explain them in a way that makes sense. Because to him, it does. "Kriff. I'm making a big mess of things right now, aren't I...?" He scrubs his good hand over his face and instantly regrets it, having momentarily forgotten about his wounds.

"Argh..." Cal lets out a swear in what's most likely some mix mash of Mando'a and Huttese.

Merrin's expression softens; she can't do this to him right now, not even if it is an important conversation. She takes his good hand and pries it gently away from his face to be certain he hasn't reopened any wounds.

"Okay. This conversation can wait. You need to rest."

Satisfied that he's done no real harm, she shifts so she's sitting at the head of the bed and pats the space in her lap in invitation. They've done this a hundred times before by now; she'll stay with him until her legs fall asleep and maybe, just maybe he'll get some decent rest even if she's not supposed to let him sleep too deeply.

"Lie down. I will stay."

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dathomirs | i'm still fighting, i don't fear i've lost

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