![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
dathomirs | for all the ghosts that are never gonna catch me
The directive was a simple one. Routine even. For the Inquisitorious' most loyal hound, it was a test of his extensive conditioning. He wasn't a normal Inquisitor - where there was some level of free will with them, with this one, most, if not all of it had been snuffed out He had one order, and one order only: obey.
Often, obey meant kill. Destroy. Terminate a target, eliminate a base or a threat by wiping it off the map and vanishing as if he'd never been there. No evidence. Typically, he was sent alone, where an Inquisitor would have an entire squadron of troopers to lead. There wasn't much else. He was a blank slate, a sum of what they made him into, a ghost. He didn't think of himself as anything because his thoughts were all programmed by someone else.
As was his training.
Whoever he'd once been had been washed away under months of torture and conditioning until he truly was nothing but a weapon of the Empire.
(It wasn't foolproof - on more than one occasion a hint of something would slip through his shields, causing him to question... but they'd take him back and start fresh, wipe the slate all over again).
The pilot did not let up once they landed on the nearly empty ruins of the planet Dathomir. A nightsister, his target, there had been a knowing smile on Grand's face but he did not know what it meant nor did he care enough to ask as he gathered his gear and boarded the ship. The chip in his hand revealed a woman, zabrak by the look of it - according to the information, one of the last of her kind. He said nothing, or felt nothing as he stared at the holographic image for a moment longer than normal, before stashing it once again. Adjusting his helmet, he drew his saber and stepped lightly over the rust red terrain to where he believed he would find her.
When he found the woman in question, he engaged, red blade flashing as he ducked, dodged, and struck against her. She was powerful; the report had said as much - not to underestimate her and do not come back until the job was complete. For a while it seemed like they were both on even ground and fairly matched well. Neither had the upper hand.
Not until she slipped past his defenses once, for only a second. The strike was strong enough to throw him back off his feel, the blank mask flying off his face as he hit the ground.
Get. Up. Do not fail. Or else.
Head still bowed, he climbed awkwardly back to his feet before meeting his opponents eyes, wiping blood from his mouth. Green eyes stared back from a face that might be all too familiar, if not slightly different - pale and thinner, but unmistakably the face of someone long since dead and gone stares back, eyes full of hate and rage, pain screaming into the force.
Often, obey meant kill. Destroy. Terminate a target, eliminate a base or a threat by wiping it off the map and vanishing as if he'd never been there. No evidence. Typically, he was sent alone, where an Inquisitor would have an entire squadron of troopers to lead. There wasn't much else. He was a blank slate, a sum of what they made him into, a ghost. He didn't think of himself as anything because his thoughts were all programmed by someone else.
As was his training.
Whoever he'd once been had been washed away under months of torture and conditioning until he truly was nothing but a weapon of the Empire.
(It wasn't foolproof - on more than one occasion a hint of something would slip through his shields, causing him to question... but they'd take him back and start fresh, wipe the slate all over again).
The pilot did not let up once they landed on the nearly empty ruins of the planet Dathomir. A nightsister, his target, there had been a knowing smile on Grand's face but he did not know what it meant nor did he care enough to ask as he gathered his gear and boarded the ship. The chip in his hand revealed a woman, zabrak by the look of it - according to the information, one of the last of her kind. He said nothing, or felt nothing as he stared at the holographic image for a moment longer than normal, before stashing it once again. Adjusting his helmet, he drew his saber and stepped lightly over the rust red terrain to where he believed he would find her.
When he found the woman in question, he engaged, red blade flashing as he ducked, dodged, and struck against her. She was powerful; the report had said as much - not to underestimate her and do not come back until the job was complete. For a while it seemed like they were both on even ground and fairly matched well. Neither had the upper hand.
Not until she slipped past his defenses once, for only a second. The strike was strong enough to throw him back off his feel, the blank mask flying off his face as he hit the ground.
Get. Up. Do not fail. Or else.
Head still bowed, he climbed awkwardly back to his feet before meeting his opponents eyes, wiping blood from his mouth. Green eyes stared back from a face that might be all too familiar, if not slightly different - pale and thinner, but unmistakably the face of someone long since dead and gone stares back, eyes full of hate and rage, pain screaming into the force.
no subject
There will be time now, though, she reminds herself as she sinks into the water with a small hiss as its intense heat hits the raw spot on her arm where his had only just burned through the fabric of her jacket. It's only a few seconds before the heat begins to soothe rather than sting, at which point she spares a smile for Cal and his unnecessary apology.
"Of course the Empire is unnecessarily stingy with its hot water. A pity we cannot remain here longer; there is much of Dathomir you would find fascinating, and there is no shortage of these pools in this part of the planet."
She ducks under the water briefly to wet her hair, which has grown out a bit in the time since she'd seen him last. She tends to wear it half-up now, or braids pieces of it to keep it out of her face. Today it was in the latter, though one of them has begun to come loose in the fight. She busies herself with undoing them and working the tangles out of the rest while she contemplates their next day's course of action.
"I am not sure where to take you, truthfully. The others do not know that I suspected you lived, and I do not want to spring them on you until you are feeling more yourself."
no subject
And it's not like Cal looks all that much better - his cheekbones stand sharp under the deep hollows beneath his eyes, skin has taken on a pale and waxy appearance. His hair had grown out longer, and he hadn't shaved if the beard he'd grown was anything to go by, unkempt and scraggly.
And his body; there was hardly an inch of him that wasn't marked with a scar of some kind. A few new marks from their brief duel but nothing serious, nothing like thick lines of scar tissue down his chest from the probe.
He cups his hands and splashes water over his face with a sigh. It is a shame, he wouldn't mind staying here for a while longer... Dathomir is a fascinating place. Typically on missions he'd never been given free range to explore.
"That's... probably for the best. I feel alright now, but my memory isn't completely what it was before." There's a certain rawness to the edge of his mind, he fears what he will find if it's frayed, if he pulls on those bonds before he's ready to face them. "There's something I need to ask you."
no subject
She wanders back over to the side of the pool, where she's left the soap and some cloths to wash and dry with, and perches on a small ledge there.
"Come here; your hair is a disaster. You may ask whatever you like, and I will answer if I can."
no subject
"There's still a lot of... gaps in places, in my memory. Not everything is there yet." A beat. He's not sure how to phrase this, he doesn't want to presume anything, but he has to know. "I know I have feelings for you, strong ones. But I... what were we to one another?"
no subject
"It is not so easy to say. We were never just one thing in the five years after you found me on this world. We were -- not enemies, never enemies -- but I saw you as an invader to begin. I had been told lies about the Jedi, but it was not long before your actions forced me to reconsider what I thought I knew."
She rubs the bar of soap between her hands as she talks, and once she's gotten enough lather she starts working her fingers into Cal's tangled hair, scratching lightly along his scalp as she goes and sorting the tangles out as gently as she can. It's clear the Empire hadn't given him an excess of time to look after himself, but she's grateful for the time it affords her now. She can choose her words carefully, letting the care she takes with him speak when she cannot.
"You became my family, and my dearest friend, over the years that followed, but we spent some time apart. I needed to see the galaxy on my own terms, and you did not wish to put down your fight even for an instant. We had just found one another again before you were taken."
She hesitates, takes a breath. Works out another nonexistent tangle, because she doesn't want to stop touching Cal and she doesn't want to say anything that will make him feel the loss of his memory more acutely.
She owes him honesty, though. She drops her hands with a small sigh only to rest them on his shoulders as she delivers the words that break her heart all over again.
"We were -- together, the night before you were betrayed, but we never got the chance to learn what that relationship would have looked like. I would never expect you to pick back up where we stopped, if you cannot remember. My feelings for you are what they are, and they have remained unchanged even in your absence. We can start over again."
no subject
He holds his head back, listening to Merrin speak. She keeps her breath steady and words don't betray the storm of emotion he feels radiating from her. It's not easy for her to talk about this. Even if she didn't say the words, there's love in how gentle she is with him, the obvious care behind her actions.
Something warm prickles behind his eyes that he doesn't think has to do with the hot water or soap getting into his eyes. Grief for what they had and lost and remains lost to him, for her to get him back - but incomplete. Taken away from someone he'd considered a friend.
But she loves him. All things considered, even after he'd become unrecognizable and tried to kill her.
With a sigh, he pushes himself away from the wall to turn and lean facing against it, glancing up at her.
"I don't know how any of this will go from here, I really don't --" Neither of them are the same people anymore.
"But I still feel... a lot for you, and I think I want to. Start over again, I mean."
no subject
"It was never going to be simple between us. You were a Jedi; I had long come to terms with what I thought that meant for us. I never expected there was room for me alongside your duty to the galaxy, not in the way I wanted."
She has to stop and breathe through a sudden pang of grief; even with him here it's difficult to put aside the past two years, and the time in between when she'd roamed the galaxy without him -- time she couldn't bring herself to regret until she'd lost him completely, at which point she'd begun to bitterly regret every moment that had been stolen.
"And then you were gone. Anything we build for ourselves now is a gift I never expected to see."
Her eyes shine too bright with unshed tears, and she looks away before they can become more. It's too hard to look at him without wanting to fall to pieces. He can't know how often she'd pleaded with the Force, with her sisters, to find her a way to say a real goodbye. Having him back is unfathomable; to hope that the love between them was untouched by everything that'd been stripped from him is too much.
She busies herself with scrubbing some invisible dirt off her injured arm until she's more certain she isn't about to weep. If he touches her now she might shatter into a million pieces, and they don't have time to put two of them back together.
no subject
But right now, it's the woman in front of him he's currently focused on. He lets his mouth quirk gently up on the corners, just the barest hint of a smile and even that feels like a workout for muscles that haven't moved that way in years.
She loved him. No, loves him. And he... he thinks he could fall for her. After all, he'd done it once before.
He doesn't need to have the force to feel the regret rolling off of her in waves, the grief. Even without having a complete reference for it, Cal feels it too. They could've been happy. All this time. The Empire tears apart everything it touches, but he doesn't have the energy for anger right now. Perhaps it will come later. Swallowing thickly, he reaches out to touch her face and gently guide her gaze back to him.
And then, uncaring of the fact that he's still covered in soap dripping down his neck and back, he pulls her into a hug, her body flush against his own, holding the back of her head to his shoulder.
no subject
It was too much to feel, and so she'd never allowed herself to feel all of it at once.
Some of that long-suppressed grief crashes into her now, carried by the wave of sheer relief that comes when Cal's arms go around her. She clings back instinctively, heedless, a stifled sob breaking free of her after a moment in which he doesn't simply disappear. He's real. This is happening, her dearest wish, the impossible prayer she thought would go forever unanswered. He may not remember, but he's alive and he's here and she can stop holding on so tightly for fear of shattering completely.
She hadn't wanted to do this here, but once the dam has broken she isn't given the choice, and she finds herself shaking with quiet sobs against his shoulder as two years' worth of buried hurt demands its release.
no subject
But they have a chance now.
He might not remember; his memories still a confusing jumble in many places but he will get them back. However he has to... he can consult with Cere once they reunite about it if they're not by then. Maybe there was a way...
His hand strokes the back of her head.
"I'm here now..."
no subject
"I am sorry. This is not like me."
She gathers her composure enough to step back, to let go -- with great reluctance -- of the man to whom she was still nearly a stranger. She hadn't wanted to place any of this upon him now, not when he still had a whole life to piece back together. She reaches out one last time to wipe away a bit of suds that have trickled down onto his cheek, and the ridiculousness of the scene brings a genuine smile to her features again.
"Rinse the rest of that soap out of your hair and let's get somewhere more secure before nightfall. You do not want to know what goes on out here after dark."
no subject
Grinning slightly, he ducks his head under the water and letting it flow over him. It's so peaceful down here - the force beckons to him to reconnect with it, here under the water but... it's been years since he's done it, and it's probably unwise to try it around others or surrounded by water or other things he can do damage with. So he pushes the call away as he resurfaces.
His hair falls in a curtain over his eyes, and he can't help the laughter that escapes him as he brushes it away. He was going to need to cut it and definitely shave later on.
"So uh, I don't suppose you've got anything I can wear for the time being, do you?" Because no, he is burning the armor first chance that he gets.
no subject
The desire to hide him away from the rest of the galaxy forever is strong, and Merrin pushes it aside now in favor of more immediate practicalities. She hops up onto the side of the pool and starts drying off with one of the towels while she considers Cal's question.
"You are lucky in that regard; my sentimentality would not allow me to be rid of all of your old things."
She dries her own underclothes with a quick sweep of her magick before she begins dressing, and will do the same for Cal once he's on dry land again. As for his armor... Merrin pauses a moment, considering the options.
"Do you think there is anything to be gained by deception? We could leave your armor, damage it such that it appears you met with some misfortune here."
The absence of a body would raise doubts, but he had been a Jedi; becoming fully one with the Force was not out of the question. It would delay those who sought to follow them, in any case.
no subject
Still sopping wet, he wraps it around his shoulders instead of toweling off completely. He's more comfortable putting on his old clothing than touching his old saber, echoes don't reflect as strongly in clothing as they do in objects.
"Thanks."
He'd left the helmet back where they fought, but he stared at the pieces for a long moment before replying.
"Yeah. We could do that - wouldn't be completely unbelievable for me to have been I don't know, taken by surprise by some of the wildlife here. It won't fool them forever, but it can give us a good enough head start."
no subject
"Bring it, then. We'll drop it on our way off the planet; I know just the barely-accessible spot for an Inquisitor to have disappeared with little trace."
Barely accessible to anyone without both the Force or an innate knowledge of Dathomir's flora and fauna, at least. It will slow their pursuers down; give them time to get somewhere unworthy of their notice. Tanalorr is an endgame she doesn't want to bring into the discussion yet, given the fraught circumstances under which she'd finally gone there.
With that much decided, she looks Cal over again with concern that's more muted now that he seems... okay. Better than she'd hoped, at any rate.
"How are you feeling? That fall you took can't have been pleasant. Nothing's broken, I assume, or else your tolerance for pain is worrisomely improved."
The hot springs have some analgesic qualities, can help speed up the healing of minor bruises, that sort of thing. Her arm throbs dully rather than feeling as badly singed as it was. She expects Cal's fine to walk back to her makeshift home, but she doesn't want to be surprised.
no subject
The memories threatened to drag him down. Just keep moving. Don't think of it. He forced himself to keep moving, dimly aware that Merrin had asked him a question.
"I've had worse." He says with a shrug. "No, I feel pretty good - the springs really did wonders." His tolerance for pain has improved a quite deal, it had to in order to survive his training and conditioning without breaking, but -- it was in the past, it was at least something useful that had come out of the whole thing.
no subject
Still, she worries. It's a short walk back to the place she's been staying, and she leads him through the door with a nod to an unoccupied space in a corner.
"You can drop it over there for now. I will find you some fresh clothes and we'll see what we can find for dinner. It's not going to be Greez's cooking, but I suspect I can do better than whatever the Empire feeds you."
She disappears into the back room where a makeshift bed is surrounded by a few trunks with clothing and other things she's collected while here. She remembers exactly where she'd put Cal's old clothes, and one thing in particular stands out as being perfect both for the weather here and, perhaps, for helping Cal find an uncomplicated memory in all of this.
She returns a moment later holding a spare pair of pants that had been Cal's, and one of the more muted ponchos he'd been so attached to -- she unfortunately drew the line at the horrid pink one, but this one had, on occasion, warded off her own chill in the cold nights here.
"Here you are. You can change in my room if you like. You're welcome to take the bed tonight, as well."
Another time they'd have shared, but she wants to give him space. She doesn't imagine either of them will be getting the best sleep of their lives, but Cal at least deserves a comfortable space to shake off some of the shadows of the past two years.
no subject
As if to make itself known, his stomach growls at the mere mention of food and his face reddens slightly which luckily pulls him from getting too dark in his thoughts.
"I could honestly eat a bantha. Maybe two." He's used to rations, small portions, nothing has ever come close to Greez's cooking; now that he remembers what that was like.
With a nod he takes the poncho and clothing and moves to her room to change, running his hand over the thick fabric and letting the emotions attached to it in. There's his own: grateful for it's warmth on Illum and snuggling underneath it after he'd been ill. There's Merrin's; basking in the warmth and feeling close to him underneath it.
He dresses himself quickly, the pants fit a little loose on him now but they work fine enough. Cal for the first time in years, feels like himself again. A person, not a thing.
His legs move backward until he hits the edge of a bed. He crumples down onto it.