Dumb as Hell

Ptisane

She noticed it when they were lounging in bed as the draught wore off. She kissed his fingers as the tips began to cool under her lips.

“How was it tonight?”

“Which part? Both were incredible, by the way.”

She smiled up at him, “The flying.”

He hummed, “Colder than last time, but nice. I got caught in the rain a bit. Haven’t had to worry about that in a while.”

She smiled up at him, “I noticed you were a bit damp.”

He pulled her in closer, “I could make a joke about that, but I won’t.”

She threw her head back to laugh and he smothered a quick cough into his shoulder. She stayed smiling, but her brow furrowed, “You alright?”

“Getting used to breathing again is harder than I thought, hey?” He joked, and she relaxed back against his chest.

—-

The next day, she heard him before she saw him.

“Hih’NG’SHH!”

From across the room, Icarus rubbed his nose and nodded his head at Odysseus. The older shade had a firm hand on his shoulder. She caught the tail-end of their conversation as she stepped closer, “...Our good witch of the crossroads would know.”

“Would know what?”

“Master Odysseus was jus-hh!” Icarus fiddled with a pocket on his belt. Melinoe noted the pink tinge to his nose. His hands finally found what they were looking for, and he pulled out a tattered work cloth. He pressed it to his face, his eyes watering. “Hh!”

“NN’GGshh!” He turned away at the last moment and doubled over, one hand splayed over the cloth, the other on his knee.

A mechanism on his back reacted from the motion and his wings gave an unexpected beat, causing him to stumble.

Melinoe’s hand flinched, as if to reach out to touch him, steady him. But her fingers would fall through empty air. She allowed her palm to stay resting at her side.

The shade didn’t seem to notice. He straightened and turned back to them with the cloth still over his nose, muffling his voice. “Excuse me, sorry.”

Odysseus, however, did seem to notice, and gave Icarus’ arm a squeeze in her stead. “That doesn’t seem right, lad.”

“It isn’t.” Melinoe frowned and stepped closer, her eyes narrowing.

She knew Hecate wouldn’t think so, either.

—

They agreed to meet in Melinoe’s tent to save the shade some humiliation, but, seeing Icarus shrink under Hecate’s gaze, she now knew there was no avoiding that.

He was perched on Melinoe’s bed, his mechanical wings leaned gently against her nightstand, hands folded in his lap as he looked up at the older witch, who bent down to meet his gaze.

“Say, ‘Ah.’”

His eyes drifted to the ceiling and he let out a weak, “Ahhhh…” before ducking his head to clear his throat.

Hecate clicked her tongue, “Turn your head to the left.”

“My left or your left?”

She sighed, and Icarus shrank further. “It matters not.”

He nodded and jerked his chin to her left.

“And now the other side.”

He turned.

“Now a breath in, hold it as long as you can.”

He fumbled, mouth opening and closing. “Er, Madam, that would be a very long time, I think.”

“Why don’t we give it a shot?” Hecate waved her hand for him to begin.

He spared a curious glance to Melinoe.

She motioned at him to hurry up.

Well, he was always up for an experiment. He sucked in a breath. Held it.

They sat in silence.

Icarus kicked his legs absentmindedly.

And then, for the first time in centuries, his lungs started to ache. At first, he thought it was his imagination. But, no, the pressure only grew worse. Until, after another minute or two, he let the breath out in a puff.

“Oh.”

Hecate hummed and nodded. “Seems like some effects from your latest draught have lasted longer than you intended,” She straightened, adjusting her hat, “Our young Icarus has come down with the flu, common for mortals.”

“The flu!” Icarus said, incredulous, “I’m a shade!”

“And you were flesh and blood when you went flying in the rain and caught the blasted thing.”

Icarus’ mouth dropped as he looked to Hecate in sheepishness and then to Melinoe in betrayal. She put her hands up in defense, “I didn’t tell her! She just knows.”

“He’ll need another draught to give his physical form time to recover,” Hecate continued, “I assume this won’t be a problem for you, Melinoe?”

Melinoe nodded, “I have the shaderot and shadow.”

Icarus looked between them, much less enthused by the idea of the draught than the first time. He didn’t remember much of what it felt like to be alive and ailing, but he wasn’t eager to take a walk down memory lane. “Are you sure I can’t just, you know, wait it out? It feels like it’s just a cold, not that I’ve had much experience with those.”

Hecate clicked her tongue. “As a shade, you are numbed from pain and illness. That tends to stall the recovery process a bit. You’d be waiting for quite some time, not sure how many years.”

“Years?!” He started, shocked, then resigned as he turned to look at Melinoe.

She flashed him a sympathetic smile, “I’ll get started on that draught.”

Hecate took a long look at Icarus, slumped and miserable, before nodding. “Ptisane with honey will needed as well.”

—

“I suppose it’s something mortals drink when they’re ailing.” Melinoe told Icarus as she stirred a pot above a miniature flame in her room.

He stood beside her, hands behind his back, staring into the mixture. “I can’t remember if I’ve had it or not. Looks kind of milky.”

“It’s mostly barley and water, but it should be easy on your stomach, once you have one.”

He nodded, watching her stir with her ghost-like arm. The joints of the bones shifted delicately with each movement. They fit so carefully between one another. He wondered if it ever hurt her.

“The draught should be ready by now. Be right back.”

He jumped a little, the spell broken, “Ah! Alright, I’ll be here. Obviously.” He watched her stroll around the corner and took the opportunity to fish out his abused handkerchief and blow his nose, hoping the sound didn’t travel.

By the time she returned, his head felt significantly lighter, but his ears were definitely popped, as if he had flown too high too fast. “Successful?” Was he shouting?

Melinoe lifted the bottle in response. “Ready?”

He reached out, and she dropped it into his hand. Cool, green liquid sloshed inside. Before he could second-guess himself, he popped the cork off and knocked it back.

When he took the draught the first time, after he saw Melinoe in the crossroads, it was a rush of adrenaline and joy. This time felt like…not that. His head spun, his nose itched ten times worse, and wow did his body ache.

“Ugh.” He sat back on the bed, hands falling behind him.

“Ugh?”

He scrubbed his face with the back of his hand, his hair a little wilder, one strand sticking straight up. He ran a hand through it and sniffed. “Did I look better dead?”

“Less miserable, maybe.” She pulled a spare piece of cloth from her table drawer and handed it to him, “Why don’t you use this and keep it on hand? I think it’s a little nicer than what you have now.”

He took it, sheepish. “Sorry, right. That’s…probably a good idea.”

She smiled and cupped his face, her hands wonderfully cool. Her fingers walked under his chin and lifted.

At first, he thought she was going to kiss him, but her lips moved up to his forehead, and he found that just as nice.

She straightened, her dark lips pulled down in a small frown. “Hm…”

“Let me remind you, I’m actually dead. So, there’s not much to worry about here.”

Melinoe shot him a look, “Right now you’re not! I’m not sure what would happen if you were to—”

“I’d probably just go back to being a shade. I’ll be fine. Here, let’s check on the–” He rose to his feet and the blood rushed to his head. He stumbled and Melinoe’s arm shot out and steadied him.

It was nice that she could touch him like that, so casually. It almost made him forget the vertigo threatening to spill the contents of his stomach onto the floor.

“Sit.” Melinoe’s voice lowered. She hit the t in “sit” sharply with the tip of her tongue, which told him she had lost patience.

He sat.

She started gathering up blankets and tucking them around him, adjusting the pillows behind his back. He allowed himself to sink into them, relishing feeling warm cloth against his skin again.

When she was satisfied, she ladled some ptisane into a bowl and handed it to him.

He had the common sense to eat it as soon as it was in his lap, but once it was in his mouth, he started.

Melinoe frowned, “What, no good? Or, have you burned yourself?”

“No, it’s not that, it’s perfect. Well, okay maybe I did burn myself a little.” He gave a soft laugh before sticking out the end of his tongue. It was pink as opposed to the soft gray she was used to, with a little red mark where the ptisane had scalded.

She watched his face, soft and thoughtful as he stirred the bowl. This time, he blew on the spoon before taking a sip. “I’ve just remembered, I’ve had this before. Not quite food, not quite drink, is it?”

“A bit like ambrosia, I think.” Melinoe said.

That made him laugh, which made him cough. He leaned forward as his lungs spasmed.

Melinoe rested a hand on his back, heat pulsing through his shirt. “I should go. Let you get some rest.”

“Stay,” he croaked. The illness and draught were making him bold. Not that he needed help with that, the dolt he was. “Tell me about your latest battle, or something.” He moved to make space for her on the bed.

She smiled, sat down, and told him about a giant squid rampaging through Oceanus, with little ones all around it.

He began thinking of things to help, maybe something with the umbral flames. She needed a defense so they couldn’t gang up on her, like she was complaining about.

She continued on about seeing Artemis, and somewhere between running into Narcissus and fighting Scilla, he fell asleep.

His first dream was hazy. He was eating ptisane again, this one was thicker, and tasted more of barley and less of honey. There was a woman with wild, curly hair holding the spoon for him. The face kept blurring and flashing.

He blinked and she was gone. There was a hand tucked behind his head.

His eyes flicked up to his father, the older man’s dark hair was pushed back behind his ears, his face as impartial as ever. Behind him stood the yellow stone walls of the tower.

Daedalus was pressing a cup to his mouth. “Drink.”

Icarus obeyed. This ptisane tasted bland, gluey. No honey. He swallowed and his breath came in hot bursts, echoing back onto his face.

The hand behind his head eased him back onto the pillow and black crept and bled over his vision.

“Icarus.”

His eyes snapped open and Daedalus was still there, but it had gone dark, save for one or two flickering candles. There was a ghostly, see-through quality to his father.

When Icarus looked down, he noticed the same quality to himself. “Am…I still dreaming?” The words scratched through his throat. It hurt to speak.

“No.”

That got him to sit up. The draught had worn off, then. “What are you doing here?”

Daedalus really did look the same. He still had his wings and belts and hammers, all polished and oiled. He still had that steady, neutral expression aimed at Icarus.

“I’ve been seeing a significant lack of hammers as of late.”

He was almost disappointed. “Business is down, hey? Or rather,” his voice wobbled as his chest hitched in irritation, “you’re not getting calls during retirement, are you?” The last word broke off as he coughed once, twice, and dissolved into a fit. He braced a hand against his chest, wheezing.

Daedalus took a step forward, gaze sharpening. “How did you get like this? I should be told of these things. You’re my apprentice.”

Icarus swallowed and wiped at his mouth, “I’m also your son.”

Thick, uncomfortable silence.

Icarus sighed and slumped forward, spent.

Footsteps. Then, rough, calloused hands lifted his bangs off his forehead. Icarus kept his eyes closed, mostly out of embarrassment, but also to stop the room from spinning. The damned fever.

“You are warm for a shade,” Daedalus said, as if confirming it.

“Am I thinking out loud?”

“Yes.”

“Hm.” Icarus pressed his lips together, cursing at himself, careful to keep it in his head.

“Did you go out in the rain?”

Icarus’ breath caught, threatening to send him coughing again. “How did you know that? Did you talk to Hecate?”

“No.” Daedalus said, firm. He pushed Icarus’ hair all the way back and tucked the locks behind his ears. It felt cool against his scalp, his hair slick with sweat. “I know because I’m your father.”

“Ah.” He opened his eyes to see amber ones, very similar to his own, peering down at him. If Icarus wasn’t mistaken, he’d say he saw a bit of concern on the great Daedalus’ face. “I suppose you are.”

Daedalus continued to fuss with his hair, tucking it away even as it stubbornly flew back between his eyes. “Back in the tower, you had sat on the roof during a storm. Out of boredom, it seemed. You made yourself so sick, I thought you might die there.”

Icarus allowed himself a moment to be a child again, sick and shivering while his father fussed over him, “Well,” He mumbled, “I didn’t.”

“No. I watched you fall into the sea, instead.”

Icarus couldn’t look him in the eye, coward that he was. Instead, he kept his head down and whispered, “I suppose you did.”

He considered, for the first time, that Daedalus might not have been angry that Icarus had broken his wings.

Maybe, his father was angry at him for dying. It was something new to untangle, an unsolved problem.

Icarus let himself sit on that. the idea of Daedalus watching his last few moments. He wondered how much his father saw. He probably heard the initial panic, saw the arms flailing, trying to gain purchase on empty air, and then he would watch as Icarus grew smaller and smaller.

Until…right. He supposed he could understand. Or, he would try to, anyway.

There was the rustle of a curtain and he looked up to see Melinoe at the entrance. She held a glowing bottle of draught in one hand and a cloth in the other.

He smiled, and she smiled back. The air in the room lifted a little.

Her eyes flicked to Daedalus’ hand in his hair. “Hope I’m not interrupting something important.”

“You’re fine, Meli-ih…hh!” Daedalus dropped his arm to his side just as Icarus ducked back behind the cloth Melinoe had given him. “Heh-HEH..! RRSHHOO!”

“It seems like he’s getting worse.” Melinoe’s voice got closer as he blinked, dazed. He felt a blanket tuck back up around him. It was a nice gesture, but useless against the skin of a shade.

“Mortals typically do before they start getting better.” Daedalus began adjusting his wings and walking towards the door. “But if it gets serious, you’ll let me know?”

“Of course.”

Icarus looked at his father, and somehow felt a little better, despite the ache in his head. “See you, dad.” He gave a nod.

Daedalus nodded back. Icarus watched him catch a gust of wind back to the top. His form grew smaller and smaller until he was out of sight.

Melinoe looked back at Icarus over her shoulder, eyebrows pinching a little crease between them. “I hope I didn’t chase him off.”

Carnivorous. When Greez cooks something without enough meat, she passes the plate to Cal.

Quick with a joke. Likes little pranks. Lies for fun.

Physical. The first to kiss a hand or go for a hug. Merrin initiates all of these moments with Cal, not the other way around.

The first to leave the OG mantis crew, right after she dumped her second girlfriend

First girlfriend died during the purge.

Knew Cere the longest due to the hidden path.

-Has a permanent worry line in the middle of his forehead.

-Blinks when he’s nervous. (More pronounced in fallen order)

-Has an affinity for music.

-Says “clankers.” A lot. Lol.

-Is painfully lonely. Despite this, makes friends everywhere he goes. Strangers on Bracca will call out to him to be careful.

-Takes everything personally.

CHAPTER 1 LINK

CHAPTER 2 LINK

He awoke to the sound of songbirds and an aching in his right side.

He squinted over to see Merrin, her head rested on his newly bandaged shoulder, mouth slightly open. A stray hair curled along her jaw. She looked beautiful. And tired.

But it was only so long before the weight of her became too much, it hit the wrong spot, just at the center of the bullet wound, throbbing through the bandage. He shifted, ever so slightly.

She leaned deeper and he gasped, “Mer-you’re-Ah!”

She blinked awake, startled. “Sorry.” She mumbled as she sat up, the blanket falling to the floor in a heap.

The morning sun filtered through the window and dappled on her face. He found himself staring.

“Merrin! You stayed!” Kata’s voice tinkled in from the doorframe.

“Mhm.” She slid off the bed, careful not to jostle Cal. “I’ll make breakfast and move some more things over here, clothes and the like.”

Cal blinked, “What?”

Merrin looked back, amused, “You would have Kata care for you all by herself?”

He hadn’t considered that. His mind scrambled for an idea that didn’t require so much of her. “You don’t have to do this,” he said.

“You won’t allow me?”

Cal blanched, “I didn’t say that. It’s just…” He took in his wrapped leg, his shoulder, and god, his head. “I’m a mess. And not a very good patient.”

“You’re not.” Kata agreed while she stuck her hand in the barrel by the stove and pulled out six strips of bacon. “You probably won’t even eat breakfast.”

Merrin took the meat from her. She started walking between the fireplace and kitchen, setting up the pan and a kettle above it.

“He usually doesn’t.” The younger girl added.

Cal wanted to disagree, but the laudanum from last night sat hard and heavy in the bottom of his empty stomach. The bacon started to pop and released a greasy smell that made his insides flip.

“I assume you’re stubborn enough that you haven’t changed your mind from last night?” Merrin asked as she took a sip from her steaming cup of tea, peering from over the top of it.

“I would rather it be you who takes over. You’re our best bet.” Merrin could protect people, he’d seen it. The townspeople had to open up to her sometime. Why not now? “It should be you,” He added, as if confirming the thought to himself.

Kata handed him a plate. Two strips of bacon with cornbread.

He took it, set it in his lap, and stared it down like it was threatening him. He picked up a piece and chewed, slow and deliberate.

“A sheriff can’t be someone people don’t trust.” Merrin looked into the fire while she said it, mouth a thin line. “Cad Bane doesn’t seem like someone to take risks with.”

“People trust you!” Kata said to Merrin around a mouthful of her own cornbread.

“They do.” Cal agreed, leveling Merrin with a quiet, serious look. He grimaced as the last of the bacon slid down his throat and he moved on to the cornbread. “It’s a calculated risk.”

They stared at each other for a moment. Not challenging, just contemplating as he chewed.

It was interrupted by the dizzying, weightless feeling in his head coming to a peak and a sharp cramp in his stomach. He slapped a hand to his mouth.

Merrin understood immediately, rushing over with a bucket that he doubled over into. His ribs and throat screamed as he retched, back arching.

Kata’s eyes went wide and then narrowed, “He’s not even really throwing anything up…”

“Hush,” Merrin said, pressing a cool rag against the back of his neck, then his forehead as he gagged again, “That’s what’s making him sick.”

“I’m,” he hiccuped and waited out the nausea before continuing, ragged breaths echoing back at him from the bucket. “...Fine.” He wiped the back of his hand across his mouth.

Kata nudged at him with a cup of water. She looked pale and rattled. As she let go, the cup slipped through his shaking fingers and Merrin had to lunge to catch the bottom in her palm.

They all paused for moment, taking in the near-disaster.

When Merrin helped him lift it back up to his mouth, he was careful to take small sips. It was fresh and he was grateful for something to wash away the taste of bile. Gradually, he drained the cup.

“I’ll go get more.” Kata said.

“Go,” Cal said. “Take your breakfast, too. Away from the vomiting.”

Kata gave him a sideways smile and slid off the chair, clutching her plate with both hands. “Thanks, Cal. Hope you feel better.” She kissed his cheek.

Cal blinked in surprise before a tired smile spread across his face, “Thanks.”

Kata nodded and Cal watched her nudge the door open with her shoulder. It swung firmly shut behind her.

“Feels like I can’t do anything…” He murmured.

“You shouldn’t be.” She said, firm, as she leaned his head back against the pillow.

“Sick of sleeping.”

Merrin scoffed and tucked the blanket over him, “It has not even been a full day.” Her hand cupped his cheek and he let himself lean into it.

“Do not get up while I am gone.”

“You’re leavin’?” He asked,

“First you do not want me to stay. Now, you do not wish for me to leave. You’re a confusing man, Cal Kestis.” She smiled down at him, fond. “I’m just going to get some things from my house. Rest.”

He did as she said and relaxed back into the pillow. The clicking sound of the door locking was the last thing he heard before he slipped into a dream.

It was Merrin standing beside him as he faced off against Bane again, bullets flying. Her cheek was cut and bleeding. She turned and pointed and Cal followed her finger to Bode Akuna standing across the room, coat billowing among the flames. Kata stood between them.

Cal was so shocked, he lost his footing and landed on his tailbone, knocking the wind out of him.

He tried to call Kata’s name but it was swallowed up by the roar of fire. Curtains and books went up in smoke.

Doma’s voice said something he couldn’t understand.

“What?” He managed, voice dying in his throat.

“I said you look like utter horseshit.”

Cal squinted, black dotting his vision. “Doma?” His brain tried to catch up with his eyes. Was this still a dream? He scrubbed a hand over his face and blinked.

“In the flesh.” Doma was always a tall woman, but now that he was laid up in bed, it was like she towered over him. Braids and earrings dangled along her freckled face. She was wearing her usual broad smile and tipped her hat at him. “I was just telling your girlfriend over here that you don’t look like you’re in a spot to be making the big decisions’.”

The window outside showed that he had slept through most of the day. The sun cast a deep orange hue against the glass. He frowned, “What decisions?”

“Regarding me taking on my new role as Sheriff,” Merrin was standing in front of the fire, green eyes dancing. She had always liked Doma. “Upon your insistence, of course.”

“Oh,” He sighed, feeling somewhat untethered, “Yes. I insist.”

Doma kissed her teeth and put her hands on her hips, “It’s an interesting choice...I’ve heard whisperings, but I assumed it was a rumor.”

“There’s already talk?” Cal murmured, his gaze slipping to the window. The aching feeling in his shin came to a pinpoint and he had to struggle to steady his breathing.

Merrin’s sharp eyes narrowed, flicking from his leg to his face.

He gave her a resigned look.

Doma started to pace the room. A floorboard squeaked with each step. “Could be dangerous for her, Cal. Don’t know who’ll ride with someone they think is a witch.”

“Mosey will ride with her. Toa…you?” Cal grunted, a hint of hope at the end of his voice.

Doma tossed her head back,“Ha! You don’t think I’m good enough for sheriff but you think I’ll settle for deputy?”

“You won't?" Merrin asked archly, taking a step towards her.

Doma gave her an appraising look. “You’re good with a gun, I’ll give you that,” She drawled.

“Better than you, some might say.”

“Some might.” Doma nodded, “And I guess that ‘some,’ would include me.”

Doma hummed for a moment, rocking on her heels. “Anyhow, rather have you face down that Bane than me.”

Cal tried not to send himself in a panic over that.

She put a heavy hand on Merrin’s shoulder. “Sheriff Merrin, how bout that?”

Merrin thinks of people. Their tight, polite smiles, pupils pinpricked with fear.

“How bout that,” Cal repeated. Pain had sunk its claws in and stayed. Sweat beaded at his temple. “Any sign of Bane?”

Merrin noticed, her eyebrows raising. “Later. You need to eat something. Then, more laudanum,”

“No more laudanum,” Cal groaned and then gritted his teeth. “I want to hear about Bane.”

Doma crossed her arms. “Hey, I listen to the sheriff now.” She jutted a thumb in Merrin’s direction.

Cal had to huff a laugh at that.

“Don’t worry, it gets better.” Doma saddled up to him and rested a boot on the bedframe, “I brought oats, I’m gunna make gruel, since you can’t stomach anything better.”

“Goody.” Cal muttered. It didn’t sound appetizing, but he would do anything to make the hollowed-out feeling in his gut go away.

Merrin took the sack of oats that Doma produced from her coat and dumped it into the kettle. He watched her mix it with the remaining water. After a few minutes, steam started to waft.

The door creaked open, “Doma!” Kata ran across the room.

“Hey there little one!” Doma knelt and returned the hug, necklaces clinking.“You taking good care of your uh…” She stumbled and spared a quick glance at him. “Cal?”

Cal almost laughed again.

Kata nodded, “I’m trying. He threw up.”

“Doma doesn’t need to know that.” Cal said, ears pink.

“Don’t worry about it, Cal. Happens to the best of us.” Doma chuckled.

He sighed and let his head fall back, listening to Merrin scrape a spoon against the kettle. He tilted his neck to watch her goop oats into a bowl. She stepped around Doma and took a seat near the bed.

“I’m gunna get out of here. Just in case, you know,” Doma mimicked puking and playfully elbowed Cal’s bad arm, sending little sparks of pain up and around his shoulder.

He let out a grunt.

“Well, good luck to ya’. Call me when you need me,” She crossed the room, pushed open the door, and turned to Merrin, smiling. “Sheriff.”

Merrin smiled back and nodded. “Deputy.”

The door shut and it was Kata, Merrin, and Cal again.

Merrin’s hand slipped under his head and she adjusted the pillows so he was sitting up high enough. She poked his mouth with the spoon.

He hesitantly opened, chewed and swallowed. Blinking, he looked between Merrin and Kata. “…I’m fine.”

Kata looked at him like he was a bomb about to go off. “That’s what you said last time…”

Cal took the spoon from Merrin and took another bite. It stuck to the roof of his mouth, but went down easy enough. It felt a little sore in his stomach, but manageable. “I’ll keep it down.”

Merrin and Kata looked at each other like they didn’t believe it.

“Don’t overdo it.” Merrin warned.

“I won’t. Now stop pretending you don’t know something about Bane. I’m sure you and Doma were talking while I was asleep.”

Merrin shot him a smirk as she slid the bowl into his lap. “Bossy.”

“Merrin.” He shot her a pleading look, dark circles rimming his eyes.

“Fine. He is a bounty hunter by tradition. Doma said he is a connected man.”

Cal’s stomach started to protest and he dropped the spoon back into the bowl. “Connected, huh?”

“Yes. He rides most often with two others, a smaller man and a redheaded woman.” She smiled, “Maybe you are related.”

“Great. We can bond and I can curry favor so he won’t finish me off next time.” He saw Kata flinch and his fists clenched, “Sorry.”

“Pain is making you irritable.” Merrin turned her back to him to mind the fire.

He swallowed and stared down into the bowl. The remaining oats stared back. “I just…He’s coming back with cattle. Sick cattle, or maybe people. Drugs. I don’t know. I want you to be prepared.”

CHAPTER 1 LINK

CHAPTER 3 LINK

The sound of fire crackling woke him some, gently. The pain woke him up the rest of the way, less gently.

Merrin sat in a wooden chair at the foot of the bed, tending to something boiling above the fire. It smelled salty and savory, maybe broth. It blended pleasantly with the pine of walls of the cabin.

He watched her form flicker in and out of the light, just over the tops of his blanketed feet. Idly, he thought his left foot looked a little bulkier than his right. He tested the muscle with a twitch and gasped.

Merrin’s gaze snapped towards him. Wordlessly, she stood and crossed the room in three smooth steps. She took a tin cup from the side table and, ever so gently, she tilted his head forward until he could drink.

It hurt to swallow, but it cooled him down somewhat. When his throat could form words again, he managed, “Already splinted my leg?”

“Back at the Saloon. You don’t remember.”

He frowned. When he thought back, everything was a haze of color and pain. However, one thought stood out clearly, “Missed our date.”

Her eyebrows raised, “Was it a date?”

Cal felt himself flush, despite his chill, “Ah, didn’t mean…don’t know what I was–” He started to sit up and hissed, dizzy.

Merrin began tracing her fingers along the edge of the bed frame. Eventually, her hands found their way to his shoulders. She brushed his hair back, sticky and limp against his forehead.

He allowed his eyes to drift shut and his head to lean back.

But he couldn’t find his way back under. He felt hot and clammy, back aching at being laid flat for so long. He squeezed his eyes shut and relaxed them again, his jaw set.

Merrin’s hands left his forehead and came back to prop up his head. Another drink was pressed to his lips. This time, a sweet, sharp scent hit his nose. He recognized it and pressed his lips tighter before turning away.

“No laudanum.”

“I have been giving it to you since the beginning.”

Cal briefly considered that. The way his tongue and head felt thick. He withered against the pillow. The room tilted a little to the side, “No wonder I’m like this…”

“You’re like this because you got in over your head.” Merrin pressed the cup against his lips again, “Drink.”

He did, and it was so bitter it made him choke.

Merrin wordlessly swiped a cloth across his lips. “I was expecting you. When dusk came and went, I worried.”

He took a shuddering breath. “Hate to think of you waiting.”

She gave him a quiet look, “When I went home, a man with a very strange voice and hat was waiting for me at my door.”

“What did he do when you approached him?”

“Spoke very quickly and tried to run away.”

Cal laughed, which was a mistake. It was a noiseless wheeze that sent him into a coughing fit, his hand spasming on his chest. Air whistled in his lungs but didn’t fill quite all the way up.

Merrin’s hand on his shoulder steadied him as he struggled, he smothered another cough into the side of his pillow.

A hazy silence fell over them before Cal’s mouth got the best of him. “Was it? A date, I mean.” What was he saying? “I think… I would have liked for it to be.” He managed to look up at her, tears from the fit still in the corners of his eyes, making her outline bright and glowy.

“Me too.”

He felt a smile creep across his face. “Well, we’ll just have to reschedule once I can sit up.” For a moment, he enjoyed the pleasant flush in his chest and the sudden dulling of pain. “Where’s Kata?”

“Asleep.”

He hummed, “Greez?”

“Outside crying, last I checked.”

Cal knew better than to laugh, but he allowed an amused puff of air. He closed his eyes, “Bring him in for me?”

The sound of a chair scraped as she got up, her footsteps grew farther, then returned in double as she brought Greez in. When he leaned over Cal’s bed, his face was splotchy and tear-stained. “How ya doin’, kid?”

“Ah, you know.” Cal hummed, “Alive.”

“Well…” Greez huffed and took a heavy seat near the bed. His eyes were red eyes and he sniffled, it made something twist in Cal’s gut.

Cal groped around with his good hand until Greez understood. He took it, gave it a firm squeeze, and rested it back on the blanket.

‘You look rattled.” Cal rasped.

“Ah, I knew you would pull through.” Greez retorted, voice hitching at the end.

Cal allowed his head to drift to the side, taking in the sight of them. “Need to talk business.”

“Cal…you can barely talk at all.”

He was right. The more the medicine seeped into his bloodstream, the more it felt like Cal’s head and mouth were disconnected. Cal swallowed, “Doesn’t matter. Town needs a sheriff. One who isn’t…” He motioned to his leg, stiff and swollen, “Like this.”

Greez insisted. “You don’t look right.”

He didn’t feel right, either. The sickly-sweet taste from earlier still sat on his tongue. He wasn’t hot anymore, at least. He bit the inside of his cheek. Decisions didn’t wait for the room to stop spinning. “Gunna be laying here, anyway.”

“True, God forbid you rest a bit and survive this.” Merrin said sharply, before rearing back, as if burning herself.

The room got very quiet. She frowned at the floor, a line creasing between her eyebrows. “It will ease you, to get this sorted out?”

Cal gave a stiff nod.

Merrin finally met his gaze, “I…assumed Doma would take the position.”

“Doma’s a good leader, but I know a better shot.”

“Who?” Merrin asked.

Cal fixed her with a level stare.

She scoffed. “Do not joke. The townspeople are not comfortable with me.” Memories of closing doors, whispering. Men’s eyes following her.

“Know it’s a lot to ask,” Something threatened to tug him under and he grit his teeth, “but they respect you. They know you’re good, helpful.”

Merrin softened, “That’s only when I’m with you, Cal. They fear me. That’s it.”

“You don’t have to wear the star or–” Cal swallowed and a small, scraping noise escaped him.

“Enough,” Merrin’s voice took and edge that said she was at her limit with his antics. “We talk tomorrow.”

“Fine, fine.” He sighed. He allowed himself to relax back into the bed and close his eyes. For a moment, it looked as if he might finally be asleep.

His eyes blinked open again, “Is there someone to watch Kata?”

“I can do it, Cal,” Greez said.

“You have the bar to watch.”

“Are you kidding? She’s free labor! A natural floor-mopper!”

“Maybe Cere can do it?” Cal’s voice faltered as realization hit him. The conversation had happened so fast, time was still floating between the past and present.

“Forget I said that.” He was breathless, like the memory had knocked the wind out of him, “It’s…it slipped my mind.” The phrasing of it felt dull, as if he had simply forgotten to lock the door on the way out.

If Cere were there, she would already have begun to assemble her back-up plan. She would be wise and steady.

He wasn’t Cere. He was young, stupid, and aching on a mattress full of straw. The fever, concussion, and medicine swirled in his head and he groaned.

Merrin shushed him and continued to smooth his hair, “It’s alright,” she leaned down and pressed her lips to his cheek.

The memory was too much. This is why he didn’t like laudanum. He pressed his palms against his eyes and worked to steady his breathing.

When he finally able to lower his hand, Greez was clutching his hat to his chest.

“Sorry,” Cal said for, maybe, the hundredth time.

“If you keep apologizing, I’ll take back my chair leg from the bar.” Greez said, angling his head at Cal’s leg. “It’s alright, kid. Listen, I’m tired, and you look stable enough.” He got to his feet. “Not good, but stable.”

Cal gave a hum that he hoped conveyed his love and gratitude. It came out more like a grunt.

Greez headed to the door, fixing his hat on his head, “I’ll leave you two to it.” He gave them one, final nod but shuffling out.

When the door swung shut, Merrin turned to him. “Even he would be a better Sheriff.”

Cal managed a smile at that, “Thought we were saving that for tomorrow.”

“You are a foolish man.” She continued as if she hadn’t heard him, but her voice was as soft as her hands, nails running over his scalp.

His eyes drooped shut.

—

The heat in his head had dulled a little.

He blinked the world into focus to see Merrin curled up on the cushioned chair beside the bed, her neck at an awkward angle. Her breathing came in slow, steady sighs.

Cal frowned and gave her a quick prod, “Psst.”

She hummed and stretched, rubbing at her neck.

“I’m okay now,” He whispered, “Promise. Go sleep somewhere comfortable.”

“Foolish man…” She mumbled, still half asleep, and nuzzled her face into the comforter.

“You’re not going to bed?”

“Foolish.” She repeated, elbows sinking lower and lower into the mattress. Her breathing deepened and evened out again.

“At least get a pillow and blanket.”

She didn’t move, but her eyelids fluttered.

“Merrin. I’m serious,” He said, voice rough, “In the cupboard. Get a pillow and a blanket before I hurt myself getting one for you.”

She arose slowly, like a stormcloud, dark hair fully sticking up in every angle. “You are not funny.” She shuffled to the cupboard and came back with a knitted wool blanket in one hand and a throw pillow in another.

“I have better pillows than that.”

“Hush.”

She dropped it where she had been resting her head, tucked the blanket around her shoulders, and promptly fell asleep.

—-

CHAPTER 1

Cal leaned back in his chair, letting the setting summer sun warm his face. The open doors of the jail creaked amongst the afternoon din, each one empty.

It had been a blessedly slow day. He hadn’t had to deal with a single petty complaint.

Kata would be done with school soon. Cal was glad that she had something to focus on. They were still weary around each other, it seemed, afraid to overstep. The death of Bode, the blood on Cal’s hands.

Conversations over dinner were usually brief and awkward. Fatherhood, if one could even call it that, did not come easily to Cal.

Greez, the town’s official saloon owner and friend, noticed. The older man visited their cabin often, bringing hot meals and gifts, mostly just helping out where he could. Cal didn’t know what he would’ve done without him.

In fact, Greez had agreed to watch her for the night. Kata was supposed to meet the older man at his saloon while Cal went to an appointment with Merrin.

Appointment wasn’t the right word, he really had just wanted to see her. He made up some excuse, said he heard about a certain kind of moss that could stop bleeding, and if she could show it to him sometime. She agreed and they set a date.

The memory of it made him blush and he pulled his hat down. Something flipped in his stomach. Was he getting bewitched? If he was, he wasn’t sure if he minded. He hid his smile behind a fist.

A shadow interrupted his thoughts, staining the inside of his eyelids from red to black.

“Sheriff Kestis?” A young man’s voice cracked and warbled.

He should have known. Only Tom Turgil could find trouble on an evening like this. “Mr. Turgil?”

“There’s a stranger sitting at Greez’s bar.”

Cal cracked open an eye and used it to look him up and down, “It ain't illegal to be a stranger.”

Turgil fidgeted, clutching his signature green hat in his hands, “Well, yeah, obviously. It’s just, he seems to be making the general public a little nervous. Course, you know how they get. Not used to the rough and tumble life like us folk.”

Cal deadpanned.

Turgil continued, “I’ve seen him before on some of my travels, when I’m scouting, you know how that is. Kinda creepy. He’s also got this big gun and it’s kind of rude that he just rests it on the bartop at Greez’s. Everyone knows he gets twitchy about dirt–”

That’s all Cal needed to hear. He blew out the candle on his desk with a quick puff and rose to his feet, “Let’s go.”

Turgil followed close behind, a gravel-crunching presence to the left of Cal. “Anyway, I was thinking I could be back up. I’ve been practicing shooting cans and I’m getting good. Real good. Really really good!”

Cal hummed, “Maybe.” Usually, he’d indulge Tom, but he soured at the idea of the trip becoming an escalating problem; one that slipped later into the night and interrupted his date–appointment later.

He cleared his throat.

“You alright, sheriff?”

“Fine, thank you.” Cal said, ears burning.

The door to Pyloon’s pushed open easily with a wooden creak. Energy crackled in the air, patrons keeping their heads ducked towards their drinks. Those who had food ate it quickly and quietly.

At the bar, in front of it all, sat a man with a whisky, cloaked in deep brown. He wore a wide, flat hat that blocked his eyes. From this angle, he could catch sight of a broad chin with a thin mouth pulled tight.

Like Turgil had said, the gun rested on Greez’s bartop, pointing towards the entrance. Straight at Cal. His gut sank and he had to bite back a sigh.

“Turgil.”

“Yeah, Cal?”

“You know the cabin on the edge of town, near the eastern woods?”

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Turgil take a step back. “The one with the creepy ivy? No, right?”

“Yes.”

Turgil gasped dramatically, and the corner of Cal’s mouth twitched. “Go there and leave a note that I won’t be coming tonight.”

“Oh,” Turgil sighed in relief, “I can’t read.”

Cal blinked, “Then I guess you’ll have to knock on the door and wait for her. Oh, and make a stop by the schoolhouse and tell them to stay clear of the bar.”

“Well, I–”

“Thanks, Turgil,” Cal gave him a rough pat on the back, leaving the other spluttering. That was enough of that conversation.

He didn’t take his eyes off The Stranger as he took his hat off, and had a seat.

“Cal! Oh, thank goodness you’re here!” Greez was a little ways down the bar, standing on a stool, wiping down the same spot over and over. His bushy eyebrows furrowed in deep worry. “This guy over here was just asking about you.”

The few patrons that hadn’t been scared off looked up, wearily.

The Stranger tipped his hat up and smiled, revealing gleaming teeth with sharp canines. A toothpick danced between them. “Nice to meet you, Sheriff Kestis.” Bloodshot eyes fixed him with a level stare. “The name is Cad Bane. I’m here as a courtesy to you,” He motioned to the rest of the bar, “And your people.”

“Grateful for it,” Cal said, though his voice said he was anything but.

Bane’s breath carried the scent of smoke while he spoke, “Later this week, some men in town are going to come through with some cattle.”

Cal frowned.

A glass of ale clinked on the bartop in front of him. He nodded his thanks to Greez and cleared his throat. “We get cattle coming through here all the time.”

“Good.” Bane took a long drink and wiped his mouth on the back of his sleeve. “That’s good. So, we won’t have a problem.”

“Sure, so long as it’s good cattle we’re talking about. Nothing that’ll affect the local population.”

“Good enough.”

“Ah.” Cal swished the last of his drink in the bottom of the glass, “There it is. If we’re talking diseased meat. You risk infecting people and animals here, we can’t have that.”

Bane rested his hand on the holster of his gun, polished and shining, “We can’t?”

Silence stretched on throughout the saloon. The last two customers wearily snuck out the back door, glancing over their shoulders.

The wood of the barstool creaked beneath Cal as he shifted towards his holster.

Bane’s eyes flicked down and back up towards Cal’s face. “Guess not.”

Cal ducked as a bullet ripped through the painting behind him. His glass shattered, raining beer and shards.

He pulled the trigger, missing Bane’s hat by inches. Something clipped his shoulder and he swore as he kicked over a table and dove.

He crouched behind it for cover and took a moment to squeeze his palm against his shoulder to and try to stem the blood. Sloppy.

“Careful, Sheriff Kestis.”

Another bullet ricocheted against the wall and hit the wood panel by his boot. Cal blindly threw a bottle left and sent a shot right. He strained to listen for movement, waiting a moment, then five.

Finally, he spared a glance around the table and his gut sank when he saw the bar empty. He squinted through the smoke.

Where?

The collar of his jacket went tight as he was hoisted backwards, his heels scraping at the ground for purchase.

Cal’s eyes bugged.

Bane had made it all the way across the bar without making a sound.

A jerk of movement and the walls of the bar blurred as he went through a pile of chairs. The edge of one hit at a painful angle in his back, knocking the wind out of him.

He wheezed, fists slamming the floor in a desperate attempt to get his bearings. There was no time. Footsteps rushing towards him. He wildly aimed his gun and fired.

Cad was experienced but Cal was lucky.

The shot found purchase, hitting the older man in the side of the arm, the bullet whizzing and spitting blood at the sleeve of his jacket. Bane roared.

Cal used the moment to get to his feet.

Bane wasted no time, charging headfirst towards Cal, who immediately sent a knee into the other’s stomach.

Cal was rewarded with a gasp and a choke.

Bane remained upright and swung something.

Piercing, white pain split in the back of his head and he heard a thump he recognized as his own body falling to the wood floor.

He forced his eyes open a slit and the world tilted. A piece of splintered wood fell next to his head, confirming, yes, he was hit with the leg of a chair. They were both getting desperate.

This was going south fast.

Cal’s arms shook as he struggled to drag his knees beneath him, his muscles refusing to cooperate.

A puff of air next to his ear. “I didn’t come here to kill you.”

Cal’s vision swam as he strained to look sideways and gulped down oxygen.

“We could just do business.”

The boot landed on his leg, heavy. Something slipped in his knee, wrong, and a rasping wheeze escaped Cal’s lungs.

“Can’t we just do business, Cal?”

He didn’t have it in him to spit. Instead, he just weakly shook his head from side-to-side. There was a faint ringing in his ear, and the lanterns around them bled into one big pale blob, “N..nn..”

A final sharp kick to his leg made a sickening crack.

Time started to move very strangely. Terrible, blinding pain came in waves. Where was he? Living on the outskirts of town with the other miners. No, wait. That wasn’t right. Cere got him out of there. He thought he heard her calling his name.

Then he remembered Cere was dead.

He peeled his eyes open and saw that the world was on its side. Or, rather, he was. He felt the ache of his ribs shifting, constricting his breath. Something in his throat caught, and one cough led to ten. He managed to turn over to spit a mouthful of blood.

Damn, that hurt.

“Jesus, Cal.”

The people in front of him to came in and out focus as they spoke in hushed voices. Pyloon’s was a wreck behind them.

“Once he was sure Cal wasn’t gettin’ up, he just left. Chewed him up and spit him out.”

That explained where Bane went.

He saw a blurry flash of purple skirts he recognized. “Mer’n.” He struggled. His face felt swollen, his tongue clumsy.

“Cal.”

“Think…M’ dyin’.” And it was true. His breathing hitched as it fought against his ribs.

Merrin’s face went stony as she gripped his shoulder. It made him regret saying it

“You are not.”

He blinked and she was gone. Instead, Greez had his hand pressed against Cal’s back, warm. Cal was vaguely aware he had his right foot in a stirrup. When did they get him upright?

“You’re not dying, kid. Our witch doctor here chased off that punk and now she’s gunna…” Cal squinted as Greez’s voice became muffled and further away.

“Ah, shit, Cal!”

He was on the floor again. Somewhere above him, he heard, “Give him a sec.”

He fell back into the strange half-sleep. He thought he called Greez “Prauf,” at one point, which was humiliating. Well, it was hard to get more humiliating than getting beaten unconscious in your own town, especially by someone the wind just blew in.

Although Cal was starting to suspect Cad Bane did not just stumble upon their town. He wanted something. He would be back.

Merrin gently shook him and he peeled his eyes open all the way. Pain burned hot and bright from his shin all the way to his jaw.

“Greez should not have let you fall asleep,” She said softly.

Greez’s voice piped up in the corner. “Sorry for thinking rest was good for you. Looks like naptime is over Cal. Time to head home.”

At the mention of home, he jerked forward. Pain tangled with panic at the back of his throat. Had Turgil gone to the schoolhouse? “Kata?” He rasped.

“Waiting for you back at the cabin.” Merrin said.

He let a breath hiss slow out through his teeth and something tugged at his chest. He ran his fingers across the rugged cloth of a bandage.

He swallowed, breath ragged. “Sorry. Lost pretty bad. Think my leg is broken. Along with…” He looked at the wreckage of the bar, taking in the splintered tables, chairs, and bottles littered around them. “Everything else.”

Merrin’s look softened. She pushed his hair back, palm warm against his forehead. “I know. That’s good news for your leg, though. Plenty of wood for splints.”

He breathed a painful, squeaking laugh at that.

He looked down to see a white bandage wrapped tight around his upper half, already stained pink. Blearily, he palmed at it. “Feels like this’s holding me together.”

“It is.” She said sharply before moving his hand back to his side.

Getting on the horse was worse than getting shot.

Greez and Merrin both did their best to haul him up but every movement made him gasp and groan in pain.

When he finally went forward over the horse, they tied him facing down. He tried to focus on the spiced scent of Merrin’s shawl.

There was the sound of a rope being pulled taut and he felt the rough edge of it press between his shoulder blades, right where Cad had stepped. It ached and spread through his back.

Then, the horse started to move and he wasn’t sure if he was going to make it. He felt every painful bump and shift of the road. He must not have been quiet about it, either. Merrin uncharacteristically started apologizing after a rocky detour left him wheezing and drooling blood.

“Almost there,” She reassured.

“Come on kid, stay awake.”

Cal tried to keep his mind busy. Kata probably hadn’t eaten dinner. He should teach her how to properly build a fire. They eat at Greez’s too often. Greez. Pyloon’s. The image of Cad Bane clouded his head.

When they finally stopped, his ribs were screaming and his head was spinning.

“You’ve got him?”

“Yes.”

The sound of a knot being untied. Cal felt the horse shift uneasily and he felt hands guide him down as Merrin and Greez took either side of him.

He slid down and tried to help as much as he could.

“Easy!” Greez barked.

Merrin caught him by the side while Greez took the front. His heartbeat hammered in his ears, loud and wild.

“Cal?” Kata’s voice from the entryway, small.

Shame sat hot in his stomach. “S’okay.” He tried. He felt his lip re-open as he said it.

“Go back inside, dear.” Merrin’s blessed voice, come to rescue him.

Kata hesitated, and Cal felt her eyes on him, dark and worried as she watched them shuffle over the first step. His foot knocked the wood corner and Cal bit his tongue to keep from crying out.

“What happened?” Kata’s voice trailed behind them.

“He lost a fight. Happens to the best of us.” Greez said as they started moving again.

The trip was filled with stumbling, cursing, and blood. By the time they got him to bed, he was trembling, black clawing at the edge of his vision.

He slept with sweat cooling on his forehead.

“I bet we could get an antibiotic stim on Tatooine," Kata hears Greez’s voice bounce down the hall. 

She’s drawing a picture. Well, less drawing and more watching her pencil run across the paper in thick, black lines, again and again. She rests her head on her arm and listens to the sound.

She was scared when she saw Cal at first. He came back full of blood and dirt.

But, Jedi and Nightsisters are supposed to see things like that all the time. So, she decides that the next time she sees blood, she won’t be scared, she’ll be useful. 

A shadow falls over her drawing and she looks up.

“We’re stopping for supplies,” Merrin says. 

“On Tatooine? I heard you guys talking.”

“Yes, on Tatooine. Do you think you can stay with Greez and watch Cal? Check on him. Make sure he isn’t brooding too much.”

She hums, “Okay. Even though I’m pretty sure nobody knows how to do that.”

Merrin laughs.

It’s a day’s trip to wherever Merrin is going to find the antibiotics, somewhere…south? Honestly, Kata doesn’t know where south is. Cal tried to teach her once, but she kept getting turned around. It doesn’t help that it changes on every planet. 

Merrin shifts her knapsack over her shoulder.“When I get back, I’ll let you administer the shot. You should learn how.”

“Okay.” Kata smiles, despite the sudden burst of fuzz of nerves in her stomach. 

Merrin kisses the top of her head, and Kata watches as her form shrinks in the distance. 

Greez makes see-through noodles for dinner. They’re sweet, spicy, and tangy all at the same time. Kata slurps down two bowls and a half before she tells Greez she can’t eat anymore. 

“So that was quite a situation we had earlier, huh?” He asks her as he scrubs the dishes. She helps dry, like always. 

“I guess so,” she shrugs and runs the towel around the rim so much it starts to squeak.

“I mean, I was scared, so it’s okay if you were. That’s normal.” One of his hands plucks the plate from her grasp and sets it on the rack, “Think that one’s dry, kiddo.” He smiles at her and she tries to smile back. 

There’s a beep at the cockpit, which means they’re getting a call. 

“That’s probably Merrin checking in. A little early.” Greez tries to look casual, but Kata can feel his sudden spike of nerves ghost across her arms. He saddles up to the console, presses a button, and clears his throat, “Ah, hello?”

“I need more credits.” Merrin’s voice cracks through the static. 

“Ha! Don’t we all?” he winks at Kata and this time, she does smile. “How much more we talkin’?”

“30 thousand.” Merrin sounds furious, spitting out the words through grit teeth. It sounds like she’s talking somewhere echoey. 

“What?!” Greez shrieks and promptly clears his throat and lowers his voice, “I don’t have that. Can’t you just fight your way out? Not to be crass or anything but–.”

There’s a crash in the background of the call. “Do you speak Huttese?” Merrin asks. 

“Sure, a little, why?”

“I’m in an uncomfortable situation.”

Greez gets a funny look on his face. “Should I hurry?”

“I wouldn’t wait around, no.” 

Cal’s voice echoes in her head, ”The force works in mysterious ways.” She thinks of the injection, and Cal’s blood in a puddle on the booth. “I can watch him.” 

Greez whirls around, “Merrin, we can’t leave Kata.”

“I would not have asked if I had not considered this.”

“And with Cal like this…We don’t have much of a choice, do we?” 

“No.” Merrin hangs up with a beep. 

Greez heaves a big sigh before turning to her. She’s almost taller than him now, so he doesn’t have to bend over to look her in the eye, “You sure you wanna do this?”

A surge of nerves rises in her chest and she forces it down, “Yes. What do I need to do?”

—

It turns out, not much. If Cal is thirsty, give him water. If he gets too hot, give him a fever-reducing stim. Call Greez and Merrin if anything goes wrong. 

Right now, Cal is sleeping, so she occupies herself with her pencil and paper again. This time, she practices drawing BD in charging mode. It’s easy because the droid is really just a bunch of squares. 

When Cal’s angry, he snores. She’s scared something's going to happen the minute she looks away, so it’s nice to be able to draw and know her patient is still breathing. She sits on the cushioned bench by the bunks and glances up every once in a while to see his chest rise and fall. 

Honestly, it’s really boring. She thought saving someone from dying would be a lot more exciting. 

Cal’s breath catches and she perks up.

He lifts his head and red hair sticks up from every angle. He starts trying to use his elbows to sit up, groaning. Kata tries to help, pushing on his shoulder with both hands.

Cal strains and gasps until he finally gives up and flops against the pillow. 

“Sorry,” she says. It would be better if she was stronger, or taller. 

“Don’t worry about it. Was a dumb…idea.”

She shrugs and grabs the water from off the desk. She helps him crane his head up towards his chest to drink. He takes small sips until the cup is empty.

She puts it back on the desk next to BD, who has unfolded and sits in polite silence, his gears making a soft whirring noise. It almost sounds like purring. 

“Thanks,” Cal says. It sounds scratchy.  He cranes his neck to look behind her, “What’re you…drawing?” 

“Nothing, honestly. I just like to move the pencil around on the page. Sometimes, I don’t even look while I do it.” 

“Nice to do something with your hands.” 

“Yeah.” She picks at a speck of mud on her boot, “Why are you mad?” 

He goes slack-jawed, “What? M’ not mad.”

She gives him a look.

“I’m not!” Cal insists. 

“I heard you snoring.”

“I don’t snore,” he says, rubbing his eyes with the back of his hand. 

“Uh, okay.” She smiles. 

Cal smiles back and a cut stretches across his lip and bleeds, “Maybe sometimes. What’s that got to do with it?” 

“You snore when you’re in a bad mood. Merrin says so, too.” 

There’s a bark of laughter. She looks up and Cal is grimacing and clutching at his chest, “That’s funny. Didn’t know that.” His eyes are squeezed shut and his voice is pinched tight.  

She’s reminded of something Greez said, and slides the med kit out from under the bed, “This is supposed to help with pain and fever, I think.” 

The slick metal of the vial makes her clumsy pulling the stim out. When she’s finally able to pry it free, she hesitantly pokes Cal’s shoulder with one end of it. Her hands shake. 

Cal’s fingers cover hers and he gently flips it over, so the blue end is facing her. 

A flush creeps up her neck and she peers up.

He looks down at her with a pale, shaky smile.

She refocuses on the stim and presses the button on the side. There’s a click, a hissing noise, and Cal sags into the mattress with a sigh. 

“Thanks.”

She shrugs, “I didn’t really do anything.” She frowns. She can’t even give a stim without somebody else’s help. 

“Stims can be confusing,” His eyes flutter closed, “they’re all different.” 

The stim is still in her hand, still pressed to his skin. She feels frozen. “What kind does BD carry?” She asks. 

Cal doesn’t respond, just breathes deeply. 

BD quirks his head and lets out a stream of beeps.

“I don’t know what that means. Cal?”

“Mmm…dunno…”

Kata has a feeling he probably does know, but decides to let him sleep. She drops the empty stim in the wastebin. 

Wanting to be useful, she decides to go to the kitchen to refill his water. At least she can do that. 

She gets to the sink and is halfway through filling the glass when she hears a clatter and high, buzzing voices, just outside the ship. 

She peers out the window and sees little robed men, prying something off of the Mantis. Her stomach falls into her knees. 

She pushes the button to call Merrin and Greez. It rings once, twice, three times, four…She hangs up on the tenth. 

She rushes back into Cal’s room and finds him rubbing at his chest, eyes fixed on the ceiling. 

“Cal, there are some people outside. They’re doing something to the Mantis. I–what do we do?”

He winces and rasps, “S’just Doma…can let her in.” 

“It’s not, Cal–no, it’s not Doma.” She really wishes it were Doma. She feels her throat tightening and tears pricking at her eyes. 

A gentle weight settles on her left shoulder. BD beeps softly in her ear. She swallows and takes a breath. 

Cal can’t help her. 

BD doesn’t leave her shoulder as she goes into Cal’s chest, where she knows he keeps his lightsaber. She touches the hilt. It feels warm and buzzes beneath her fingertips. 

The only thing keeping her from dropping it is that she won’t actually have to use it. 

The door to the Mantis opens with a whoosh. The heat from Tatooine’s sun is smothering, and the bright white of the sand makes Kata squint. 

The robed people are smaller than they looked from the window, but there are a lot of them. They speak to each other in hushed, buzzing voices. 

She juts her chin out, trying to seem intimidating, “This-” Her voice gives out, her throat tight with anxiety. BD gives a little hop on her shoulder. She tries again, ”this is our ship!” 

This time, all the hooded figures turn towards her. It gets very quiet. Their bright, gleaming eyes stare. 

They go back to prying at a piece of loose metal. 

Frustration burns in her stomach. She takes a deep breath in through her nose and tries not to pout, “hey! Stop!” 

They don’t even look up, their brown, scrappy robes swish against the sand as they work. The panel they’re pulling comes loose with a metallic scrape. 

“I,” She looks down at BD, “don’t know what to do.”

BD beeps in sympathy. 

And then the crowd of eyes is back. Except, this time, they’re not looking at her. They’re looking at the little droid on her shoulder. 

“Um.” She takes a step back, “You guys–”

One of the robed figures starts scurrying towards her. Terror seizes her and she screams bloody murder. BD’s grip on her shoulder tightens as she turns around and sprints. When she looks behind her, she sees their hands grabbing at the droid, snatching at empty air.

BD whoops alongside her as she panics, sprinting around the edge of the Mantis. She pushes off a landing strut, the metal burning with heat. 

Everywhere she turns, more of them, their skittering movements getting closer. She kicks up sand as she takes wild turns at random. Finally, she’s surrounded by reaching hands and murmuring. They get closer and it starts to smell like mildew. 

She pulls BD off her shoulder and tucks him to her chest, “STOP!”

Something erupts from deep down in her gut and she hears a strange, warped noise. She waits for a couple breathes. Then, she slowly looks up. 

All of the figures are scurrying away, terrified, over rocks, and back towards a black mass in the distance. There’s streaks in the sand, as if something burst right where she knelt. 

She grins. 

—

Cal grits his teeth as Kata’s screams echo through the kitchen for the second time. He had himself propped against the table, trembling. 

There’s no way to tell if the commotion he’s hearing outside is real or not. His head pounds and he moves at a glacial pace, going from the table to the hallway.

He braces his arm against the walls. He’s too sick to reach out to her in the Force, but he can tell she’s close, her fuzzy presence bumping against his, just outside the ship. 

Wait.

OUTSIDE?!

“Kata?!” He calls, panicked, his voice gritty. He struggles to step forward, throbbing pain radiating from his upper half. His head spins. If he doesn’t find her soon, he’s going to throw up. 

There’s a puff of air, a sound he recognizes as the Mantis doors opening, and little footsteps walking towards him. 

“Kata…?” He squints, and she comes into view. She seems a little different, somehow. She stands a little taller, with her shoulders square. She grasps the hilt of his lightsaber in both hands. 

Cal has to try really hard not to throw up. 

Instead, he falls to his knees and cups her face with both his hands. “What happened?”

“I’m okay.” She nods.

BD whoops from her shoulder.

He believes them, he does, but Kata is also his student. Knowing this, he subtly starts checking her for any hidden cuts or bruises, squeezing her shoulders and pulling at her sleeves. 

“Promise.” She takes his hand and BD runs across their arms, up his shoulder. 

Kata pulls Cal to his feet as much as she can. He stumbles, but he’s able to use her weight and the wall to stand after the second try. 

“You should go back to bed. C’mon,” She says. 

“I should.” He agrees, a shiver racking his frame.

They head back down the hallway. Every step he takes is shaky, adrenaline fading. Kata doesn’t let go of his hand the entire time.

“So, w-what happened?” His teeth chatter and he can feel sweat dripping down his neck.  Not a great sign. Still, he feels better knowing Kata is safe. 

Kata smiles, “If we don’t die, I’ll tell you.”

He can feel his face go pale. “That’s not funny.” To have such a morbid joke come out of such a young mouth feels wrong. 

“Sorry.” She bites her lip.

He deflates, “No, sorry, it was funny. I just don’t feel good.” Cal groans. They reach the bunks and he falls into bed with a wheeze. “You sound like Merrin…where is she, anyway?” 

This time, it’s Kata’s turn to get pale. 

“She’s coming back.” Kata says. 

“What? What do you mean?” He tries to think of when he saw her last. She was going to get something. What was it?

He begins to sit up. A pulling feeling sends a jolt of agony through his torso. He sees white and feels a weight lift from his shoulder. When his vision comes back, he sees BD standing on a med kit. 

“Already?” Kata asks, some of the confidence from earlier fading.

He opens his mouth to object, when a chesty cough rips through his throat, he smothers it with his hand, one eye squeezing shut at the effort. 

BD hops up and down and Kata relents, popping the kit open. She pulls out a stim and presses it to his arm. She’s done this before. Or was that a dream? Was this a dream? Kriff, his chest hurt. Why? Where was Merrin?

Something cool is shot into his arm and he goes from burning hot to freezing. The momentary relief makes him sink into unconsciousness. 

He dreams of his old job as a scrapper, and Dathomir, and Cere. Always of Cere. He thinks he gets up once or twice, but when he blinks, he’s back in bed. Then, he dreams of Saw’s crew, their betrayed looks. Saw’s dismissal, his approval of the tightening binds on the woman’s ankles, the knife to her throat, the blood that pearled at the surface of her skin. 

Another cough bubbles up and he smothers it with his fist. 

Well, fine. They betrayed him, first. 

“Who did?” Kata’s voice rings in the background, and he hears BD respond, reassuring her. Reassuring her about what? Why was it so hot? Was Merrin in danger?

“She’s coming back,” Kata’s voice again. A moment later, or maybe an entire day, something cool is draped across his forehead. 

“You shouldn’t have to tell me that.” Cal reaches his arm out and, by some miracle, finds the top of Kata’s head. He ruffles her soft hair. 

“It’s okay. I like being useful.”

“Hm.” Cal didn’t like that. A lush, thriving presence in the force interrupts his thoughts. It’s healthy, strong, and eases most of his anxiety from earlier. 

“Hello,” Merrin’s voice rings out and he cracks an eye open to see the Nightsister place a kiss on the top of Kata’s head. She walks over and does the same for him. 

Cal looks past her at Greez. He coughs, “Why’re you missing your necklace?” 

Greez throws his hands up, “You hear that? Well, at least he’s aware enough to notice that. It was part of my whole look! Really tied everything together.” 

Merrin ignores Greez and kneels beside Cal. She reaches into her pocket and pulls out a stim. The glass window on the side shows a fizzing, pink liquid. 

“Just had one.” 

“This will make it work better.”  There’s a click as she injects it into his arm. A soft, sleepy feeling washes over him. His eyes start to droop. 

“Kata was very brave,” he murmurs. 

Greez ruffles her hair, “Nice one, kid.”

“Yes.” Merrin smiles, “Nice one.”

“N’ce one.” Cal gives a shaky thumbs up and lets the black corners in his vision overtake him. 

—-

When he opens his eyes again, he sees Merrin perched at the foot of the bed. The pulsing in his chest has dulled to a mute, throbbing. He breathes a little easier.

“You’re back,” he croaks. 

“I’ve been back.” 

“Oh,” Cal exhales, closing his eyes, “Good.” 

“Don’t go back to sleep.”

“I’m not,” he mumbles, “My eyes are sore. Everything is sore.”

“Are you going to work with Saw Gerrera again?”

He forces his eyes to open all the way, “Do you want me to?”

She sighs, sharp, “I don’t want you going on missions where you end up like this.”

He takes a moment to think about that, letting his breath rattle in his chest.“Then I won’t. Not without you.” 

The force buzzes with her approval and he can't help but feel a little smug. She’s usually the one who ends the conversation with something witty. The reversal feels nice, despite the circumstances. 

He clears his throat, his voice small, “can I sleep now? I’m really tired.” 

CHAPTER 1

Merrin feels Cal’s fury seeping through the doors of the Mantis before they even hiss open. 

She had been telling Kata and Greeze about where to head after Cal’s return while they prepared dinner. Now, she stares expectantly at the two metal slabs that make the entrance of the ship. 

When they finally do open, they reveal Cal standing in the entryway. His head is ducked down, ginger bangs hanging in front of his face. His clothes are filthy, stiff with mud and dried rain. 

BD-1 peeks from over his shoulder, letting out a series of worried clicks and whirrs. 

“You alright?” Greez asks from the kitchen behind her. 

Cal leans against the doorframe, chest heaving. He steps forward, misses, slams into the wall and slumps into the booth by the entrance. BD-1 bails from his shoulder and lands on the table.

“Cal!” Greez says and rushes forward.

Kata follows close behind, eyes wide.

“Move,” Merrin says, and gently pushes the smaller two aside. She walks over and tries to swallow down the panic leaping into her throat. 

She bends over him, moving her hands from his neck, to his shoulders, until she brushes over his left chest pocket and feels heat radiating through the fabric. She gives the spot a gentle press. 

Cal tenses and his eyes shoot open, unfocused, “Kriff…” He gasps, and his teeth are pink with blood.

“Is he gonna die?” Kata asks. Her bottom lip quivers and she clutches a dish towel between her tiny hands. There’s a bandage on her middle finger from nicking herself with a kitchen knife yesterday. 

“Nah, he’s not.” Greez says, giving Kata a nudge before leaning closer to Merrin and whispering, “He’s not, is he?” Kata’s fear and Cal’s anger swirl into a thick smog. Surprisingly, Greez feels like a welcome balm of geniality. 

“No.” She starts to undo Cal’s shirt and addresses the Jedi, “I take it your ‘quick little’ mission for Saw didn’t go as planned.” 

That gets Cal to wake up a little, his eyes igniting with a hint of fire, “No.” He says stiffly. 

The final button of his shirt tugs free and she peels it away from his chest. There’s a bandage stretched over his left pec, stained red with yellow gooping and crusting at the edge. 

Her stomach clenches and sinks. She spares a look at Greez to see that he’s gone green under his fur. The energy in the room turns along with it and she breathes through her nose. 

“Greez, boil some water.” The latero snaps back to life and scurries to grab a pot. “You couldn’t spare a few moments to treat this?” She asks Cal.   

Cal tries to speak but the sound dies in his throat.

BD-1 scrambles beside his head and lets out a series of furious beeps and whoops that she can only guess at. 

She ignores the droid and guides Cal into a sitting position. That stirs something in his chest and his breath catches. She hands him a rag.

He doubles over and hacks into it, shoulders shaking, until he’s gasping for air. His hand slaps the table and, in an instant, he hoists himself up to stand. 

“Cal!” Greez says for the second time, a shiny silver pot clutched in front of him. 

He wobbles and, before he can fall again, Merrin ducks underneath his free arm and stands to support him. He winces and his right arm shoots across his chest. She moves her hand a little lower, away from the wound, and he exhales in relief. 

They limp one step at a time, pausing for Cal to wheeze and let out gurgling coughs. Merrin is careful to keep her hands below the pulsing heat of his chest.

When they get to the bunks, she lowers Cal down onto the mattress. He squeezes his eyes shut. 

They keep a medkit under each bunk for reasons like this. She leans down, opens one, and pries free a disinfectant wipe. 

“Hey, I got the, uh…” She hears Greez’s voice behind her

“I’ll take it.”

.She reaches for it and begins pouring the cooled boiled water over the wound.

“I’ll have to scrape away the affected tissue.” 

Cal doesn’t say anything, just grips the side of the bed tighter and sucks in a breath. 

“Kata. Go with Greez to boil more. Give me that towel.” Merrin shoots her arm out behind her, locking eyes with Kata.

“What are you gonna do?” Kata looks back up at Merrin through her bangs. She passes her the speckled blue dish rag.

Cal coughs roughly below her. 

“I’ll tell you later. The time for lessons is over. Go.” 

Kata, for her credit, obeys. The sound of her light footsteps disappears behind the door to the kitchen. 

Then, she puts the dish towel in Cal’s mouth. After a beat, he understands and bites down. 

She starts. 

Cal stays quiet at first, then a groan escapes his throat and builds into a hiccuping yell. He grips her wrist, his fingers spasming against the bone.

She can’t comfort him right now. His skin under her fingers is burning hot as she works. 

His legs start to twitch and kick beside her. He bangs his fist against the wall. 

He’s looking at her like she’s the last thing he’ll ever see. “Almost done,” she murmurs around the lump in her throat, “I’m almost done.” 

When she finally lifts the scalpel, Cal is ashen and the blanket beneath them is soaked with sweat. But, the wound is taken care of. 

One thing at a time. 

The bacta patch sticks easily to the wound. Cal doesn’t flinch this time. Instead, he looks up at her with glassy eyes. The concern of fever shifts to the forefront of her mind. 

She searches through the medkit again and finds a fever-reducer stim. It’s cool and green between her fingers, and she stands to inject it into his arm. 

At first, he barely seems to notice. But after a beat, he starts to shiver and his eyes clear up.

“Better?”

He gives a sour little laugh and rocks his hand in a so-so motion. “C-colder.” He starts to tug at the blanket underneath him. She slaps at his hands.

“You’ll undo the work of the stim.” 

He shoots her a lopsided smile and starts to lift his hands in surrender, until he doubles forward, coughing and spluttering red onto the comforter. 

She softens.“You got yourself into a decent amount of trouble.” 

He tries to scoot over to make room on the bed, but only gets a few inches before he’s catching his breath. 

She ignores him, opting to sit on the Mantis floor.

For a while, they just listen to Cal breathe.

“What happened?”

He swallows, eyes watering, “Know how Saw…”

She pulls the pot of the cooled water from the table and wordlessly puts it to his lips.

He gratefully nods, drinks, and wipes his mouth with the back of his hand “...got some intel on an imp droid factory?”

“I remember.”

“Things got complicated.”

She hears a hint of humor in his response, but she doesn’t laugh.

Cal’s hand slips into her hair while he talks, “Saw captured an imperial guard.”

There’s a slight slur to his voice now. He clears his throat and it sounds like it’s painful. 

“Started to hurt her.” Cal’s hand trembles for a moment, likely from the stim, but it’s fitting. “I stepped in. Untied herself while we argued.” 

“She’s the one who stabbed you?” Merrin asks, sparing a glance up at him.

He avoids her eyes, mouth twisting into a deeper grimace, “That was one of Saw’s men.”

“Ah,” Merrin nods slowly, “So, you went up against a small battalion."

“Wasn’t supposed to.”

“Hm.”

Cal frowns, “What?”

“You know how I feel about it. I don’t see a point in repeating myself.”

“She deserved to leave, anyway. I wanted him to step back, so I pushed him back. They reacted. It escalated. I’m expected to–” Cal’s hand leaves her hair and he breaks off into a coughing fit. She spares a glance up to see him curled away from her, his shoulders jerking while he tries to smother it. 

“Don’t work yourself up.” She hands him a wastebin. 

“You asked what happened.” He uses both hands to take it from her and spits out a red glob. “M’ telling you.”

She frowns, takes it back and sets it back beside the bed with a clatter. "Well, thank you for the story.” She’s glad it’s over. 

Cal goes silent. His teeth are grit and she can’t tell if it’s from pain or frustration. 

Instead of pressing him, she lowers herself down to his level and pushes his hair back, “When you look less like death. Then, we will talk.” 

He lets out a shaky breath and moves his jaw, “Yeah.”

She stands up and brushes off her pants. 

The door to The Mantis slides open and warm air ghosts across his cheeks and makes his nose run, “ACh’HHUh!” He ducks into his shoulder but there’s really no point. There’s nobody there but him.

BD’s beeped “bless you” next to him reminds him otherwise.

“Thagks.” He starts to unlace his boots. There’s already a puddle of water underneath him. He’d been sent on a mission to Dantooine by Saw and it had been miserable. Relentless freezing rain every night of the week he was there. It was something he hadn’t experienced since Bracca. And man, was his body not used to it.

“Heh…heh…it’CHH!!!” He stumbles forward, thinks, screw it, and just wiggles his feet out of the boots without fully untying them.

His footsteps echo and track water through the ship. He gets to the closet, rips the doors open, and cranes up to the top shelf to get a towel.

He had moved the stack of clean towels higher and closer to the heat vent, since he doesn’t have to worry about the rest of the crew being able to reach them. That’s another pro of an empty ship, he guesses. Warm towels. Yay.

“AH’tch-HuH!”

Something falls on his head and crashes to the floor. When he looks at his socked feet, it’s just an old comm. He sniffs and rubs at the spot it hit. That wasn’t going to help his headache.

He turns the comm over in his hands and recognizes the engraving etched on the side. It’s the one he encrypted to have just Merrin and him on the line. It came in handy when he needed something with a little extra security. And, just in case he didn’t want Greeze or Cere to accidentally listen in. Like that one time…

Merrin must have disconnected the matching one a long time ago. He thumbs at the speaker and sits back onto his bed. His head feels hot and his chest hurts. He doesn’t like how he left things with her.

Stupidly, he presses the speaker button. “Hey, uh…”

He regrets it immediately. He has nothing to say. He sniffs. Then thinks, hell, she’s never going to hear it anyway. “Miss you. Hope you’re doing good.” He bites down on his breath as it starts to hitch, “Okay that’s it. Bye.”

He hangs up and BD climbs up on his shoulder. The droid drops something into Cal’s lap–a tissue. Good timing too because, “Hehh!..IHhhiihh…” He sniffs frustrated, “Are you kidgink me?”

BD beeps in sympathy. Cal can’t be anything other than envious that he doesn’t have a nose.

BD reminds him of his wet clothes and the fact he looks terrible.

“Gee, Thangks.” Cal says sarcastically and trudges towards the refresher. When he looks in the mirror, he has to admit, he does look awful. His eyes and nose are red-rimmed and his wet hair is flat against his face and neck. Every so often a tremor shakes through him, and he grips the sink to steady himself.

Slowly, he starts to peel his clothes off and it helps stop the shivering a little.

The shower helps a lot.

He turns the handle as hot as it’ll go and steam rises from the floor. He feels a little pop as some of the pressure in his head releases. Was he really that stuffed up? He sniffs.

Oh, Kriff.

“Geh-heh’TCHOO! T’CH! AKSHHuuh…Ah-Ah!-CHHOO!”

He sniffs and blinks through the water as his head pounds. Once he deems himself stable, he starts scrubbing shampoo through his hair. What an awful day. A typical day, lately. Infiltrate and destroy a data cache. Blowing up a central core should be easy work, if not for the civilian slaves cleaning the halls.

Saw was pissed when he came back with one of them, a Chiss boy looking for his parents.

He rinses off and steps out. He needs to get out from underneath Saw’s boot. Maybe he’d take a few members with him. Bravo seemed to be getting equally sick of Saw’s black and white worldview. He’d be a good crew member, someone to watch his back and help fill up the empty ship.

He sniffs and wipes at the fog on the mirror. He feels better from the shower–but he doesn’t look it. Any gleam of tan he’s gotten from Kashyyyk is gone, overtaken by his pallor. And he swears his dark circles were never this bad.

He finishes toweling off, dresses in sweats, and tussles his hair to dry it.

BD greets him with a beep as he exits and Cal playfully flicks some water in the droid’s direction. BD beeps in mock-offense and bounces behind him as he makes his way towards the beds.

He opts to sit on Greez’s old bottom bunk. “Mark it down, another nice thing about having a ship to yourself: You choose where to sleep.” Cal says to no one before breaking off into a coughing fit.

Again, BD reminds him he’s wrong and that he is also here! It is lucky that BD does not need a bed. And that Cal should probably go to sleep because he looks awful.

“Yeah, thanks buddy.” He mumbles and doesn’t bother getting under the covers before he’s dreaming.

–

“Wake up.”

The foreman droid would report him if he was late again. It wasn’t fair to keep Prauf working both their shifts while he was sick. Not to mention, Prauf was out an ice pack and some painkillers because he gave them to Cal. That was too much. He needed to get up and get to work.

“Mmup,” Cal lies. He’s trying, at least, but every time he peels open his eyes, the world careens and he ends up back asleep.

“Cal.”

Something touches his cheek. He realises this is The Mantis. He also realises that nobody else is supposed to be in here.

He jerks back so hard that his head collides with the metal wall behind him with a clang. A blurry vision of Merrin comes into view. She looks pretty upset, not unlike how he saw her last.

“Cal,” She repeats at the same time he croaks, “What are you doing here?”

There’s a minute where they’re just staring at each other. She looks good. He notices she cut her hair.

BD beeps behind her.

“I came because you called,” She says.

He realizes more than her hair is different. Her clothes, her makeup, everything. Overall, she just looks…different. Happier. He should be happy for her.

He shakes himself from his thoughts, “I didn’t call.”

“You left me a message.” She pulls out her matching comm and he can feel his face go red.

“I was just…” He struggles to get his thoughts in order through the haze of embarrassment, “I figured you’d have disconnected it by now.”

“I have messages sent to my new one.”

“Oh,” he mumbles. He might have considered that if his head wasn’t under 5 tons of pressure and angst. He runs a hand through his hair self-consciously. Merrin has seen him bleeding on the desert floor before. Why is he feeling so…weird about her seeing him like this?

He needs something to do with his hands.

“Well, you’re here so, let me make you tea or something…” He trails off as he gets to his feet and Merrin steps behind him.

When they reach the kitchen, he pulls the kettle from the cupboard and starts filling it with water, “How have you bee-HIH-TCHH!” Kriff, that caught him by surprise. He drops the kettle in the sink to cover his mouth with his elbow, “Mph’SHHH!!”

He blinks his eyes open and sees Merrin already taking over. She finishes filling the kettle and sets it on the flame.

“Thangks.” He pulls a tissue from his pocket, blows his nose, and takes a seat at the table, “Sorry, I was trying to ask, how have you been?”

“Good.” Luckily, he left the tea leaves in their original spot in the cabinet. She finds them easily and tosses them into the top of the kettle.

A shiver crawls across Cal’s shoulders and he clenches his fist to stop it. The toaster on the counter shifts to the left from the residual energy and it makes a little scraping noise.

Merrin’s eyes snap to the toaster. Then, back at him.

He smiles sheepishly.

She briskly crosses the small distance between them and puts her hand on his forehead. Her fingers are cool and he can’t help but lean into them. Nobody has touched him like this since…well, since Merrin left. He’s been too angry to touch since Merrin left.

“You’re warm”

“You run colder than me, you know that.” But they both know she’s right, “I’ll take some meds.”

“I’ll get them.”

“Moved them to the nightstand closest to the cockpit.”

Merrin leaves and he can feel himself droop a little. The adrenaline from seeing her is starting to fade, replaced by a dreamy haze.

“You usually don’t get like this.” Merrin’s voice jolts him back awake.

“No,” he says too quickly. He forces himself to relax and leans back, “It happens.”

“Is it your connection to the force?” She hands him two little pills and he uses the tea to knock them back.

“...I don’t know, maybe.”

“Is it because you’re upset with us?”

He rolls his shoulders and takes a deep breath before answering. He looks up at her and he’s tired. Dank Farrik, he’s tired, “I really don’t know.”

She seems to accept that answer and pushes his hot mug closer in his direction. He grasps onto it and lets it burn his palms. The steam wafts in his direction. He sniffs, already pulling out another tissue. Sneezing clears his head but, at the same time, makes it feel like it’s going to pop. He thinks he fully understands the phrase, “A blessing and a curse,” now.

“MpHt’SHH!” He snaps forward into his lap and decides it’s safer to stay there, “Huhh’RSHHH! Uuhh-G’MSHH!!!”

He feels Merrin’s hands on his shoulders guide him back up into a sitting position. The world spins and he blinks to get it to stop.

“How about you, Cal? How are you doing?” She asks him.

“Oh, you kndow,” He shrugs and shoots her a sideways smile, “Fandtastic,” He turns away from her and blows his nose and hears her graciously laugh a little.

“I meant not including your current situation,” She says,

“Yeah, sorry, I know. Uh, It’s good. I’m working. A lot.”

“So I hear.”

“What?” He scoffs, “Where did you hear that?”

Merrin doesn’t answer, just sips her tea.

He smirks at her but resists pressing. He opts to take a deep drink if his own tea. It’s faintly sweet and the heat washes away the ache in his throat a little.

“How is it?”

“Better than I could have made.”

“Of course.” She smiles wryly.

Another shiver starts at the back of his neck. This time, he bites his lip to suppress it and the cabinet behind Merrin flies open and slams shut.

She doesn’t look back. She probably felt it coming in the force.

He realizes there’s probably no use hiding it. “Sorry.” He says, dumbly.

“You should go back to bed.”

“Yeah, maybe.” He blinks slowly and allows himself another long look at Merrin. Her hair, her face markings, the way she is looking at him…”But you won’t be here when I wake up.”

She smiles sadly. “No.”

He nods, drains the last of his tea, and gets to his feet. Merrin takes his elbow. They walk back to the bunks and Cal can pretend that Merrin is just going to sleep in the one above him. Or the same one. What? He mentally kicks himself. Where did that thought come from?

He starts to get into the bed but Merrin holds out an arm to stop him. She lifts the blankets and motions for him to continue. “You have the chills, I can feel it.” She rolls her eyes.

“I said I was sorry.” He gives a half-laugh-half-wheeze and gets under the covers. The warmth threatens to carry him under right then and there.

Merrin decides to go the extra mile and tuck him in–which makes him wheeze laugh again.

“You didnt have to come. I didnt say I was in trouble.”

“I know.”

She leans in and stops inches from his face. He suddenly feels like this is his last chance-like he's going to die otherwise. He closes the gap and presses his lips against hers.

When he pulls away, he thinks to say, “For luck. Bye, Merrin.”

“Thanks, Cal.”

The last thing he thinks before he falls asleep is how monumentally stupid that was and how much of an idiot he is. The worst part is, he doesn’t feel an ounce of regret.