Summary: Disgraced but cleared of wrongdoing, former flight lead Robin Walker accepts an RDA mission that promises redemption—only to awaken on Pandora in a recombinant body she never agreed to inhabit. Sent to hunt a legendary traitor, she instead finds herself stranded between two worlds: too human to belong among the Na’vi, too changed to return to Earth. As the planet challenges everything she was taught to fear, Robin must confront the meaning of loyalty, survival, and identity—and the quiet, dangerous pull of a warrior who sees past what she was built to be.
Main Story:
Chapter 1 - Expendable
Chapter 2 - Asset in Transit
Chapter 3 - The Fracture
Chapter 4 - The Ghost in the Walls
Chapter 5 - Hate
Chapter 6 - No Regrets
Chapter 7 - Lessons in Loyalty
Chapter 8 - Cause of Death
Chapter 9 - Old Damage
Chapter 10 - She Didn't Leave
Chapter 11 - One More Day
Chapter 12 - All Choices Are the Worst
Chapter 13 - Fly or Die
Chapter 14 - Come Home Alive
Chapter 15 - You Were There
Chapter 16 - An Invitation
Chapter 17 - Paint and Beads
Chapter 18 - She's Got Teeth
Chapter 19 - Even Humans?
Chapter 20 - Echo
Chapter 21 - (In progress)
—
Extras:
Summary: A collection of extras for Fly High—the moments that happened before, after, and in between. The painful ones, the tender ones, and the ones that made life feel bright for a little while. Love, grief, humor, healing, and the things that made Robin into who she is.
EXTRA 1 - A Future Long Gone
EXTRA 2 - Name. Face. Name.
EXTRA 3 - Late Mercy
Notes: Making the chapters without order was starting to prove more challenging than I expected, so I decided I would rewrite them into a full series, organized. First chapters will be uploaded fast since they were already written. Hope you enjoy.
i had the great pleasure of working with @ziorre once again and this time for my beloved Ko’a and So’lek… I know I say this a lot but this is the most beautiful thing i’ve ever seen. thank you again for the care you have for these characters i will treasure this forever ♡
Set during the From the Ashes DLC, at the end of "Ash on the Wind". Spoilers for the DLC!
>——> SO'LEK <——<
The first thing he became aware of was pain. It seared through him with the vengeance of a pack of furious Nantang, biting and clawing, every injury making itself known in an overwhelming din as he opened his eyes.
"Tamtey…?"
Tamtey, one of the last of the Sarentu, a clan that refused to die no matter how much the RDA tried to end them; Tamtey, who had gone from a naive young Na'vi to a fearless warrior, a scourge on the RDA; Tamtey, the woman who haunted his thoughts more than he liked to admit… but Fire and Ash had scourged TAP- and any trace of Tamtey from the earth now.
The metal fortress of TAP had been reduced to no more than a cavern of smouldering rubble, a blight on the once lush lands of Pandora.
So'lek imagined it was intended to be his grave.
Good. Let them think that…
He knew well enough to presume him dead was a mistake on the RDA's part- and the Mangkwan, as he'd had the recent displeasure of learning his enemies had allied with. Yet as noisy a shadow as Tamtey may accuse him of being, none would expect the shadow of a dead man to sneak up behind them…
Yes… to forget him was to underestimate him. He'd faced worse odds before.
He could do it again. He must…
And yet weak and injured as he was, he could not stalk so readily after his prey. He knew he must heal, and strike only when he was ready. Any sooner, and he could fail the one he…
Tamtey… He would fail her again.
He had already failed her once. Let her be taken… The pang of fear and grief at the thought hit like a grenade, almost worse than the pain of his injuries.
"…Tamtey…" he whispered aloud again. Even with his voice so cracked and broken, he'd no hope she could hear him had he screamed it at the top of his lungs. Whether she was with Eywa, or them… He knew not what he feared more.
The torture she would be enduring whilst he was powerless to find her, the RDA and their sickening methods only twisted evermore brutal by the Mangkwan…
…or that her pain could already be at an end.
No.
No, she could not be dead.
"Kamfpíl…" [focus…] So'lek told himself, digging in the hand that clutched his injured side in the hopes a jolt of pain might clear his mind of the sheer horror of the thought.
"Rutxe, Eywa. Rä'ã fmong ma… ma 'eylan ftu ta oe…" [Please, Eywa. Do not take my… my friend from me…]
His plea was a breathless murmur in the eerily quiet landscape. The only melody Eywa gave him was the crackling of embers, the wind tugging charred leaves from branches, the dying whimper of a creature too unlucky to have been claimed quickly from the flames.
So'lek instinctively followed the sound.
"Tslolam, tsmukan…" [I know, brother…] "...I am on my way..."
It didn't take him long to find it, a great Palulukan wrought low. Its dagger-like claws weakly raked at the ground following furrows it had clearly been carving for days, back limbs crushed under a fallen tree. Its skin smouldered, soot and dirt half piled over it. Shuddering breaths sent the ash whisping into the air in tiny clouds. The Palulukan sensed him there and hissed furiously, too weak to roar, its weak struggles frenzying as the apex beast turned prey to this unknown threat.
"Mawey, Palulukan," So'lek soothed, moving into the Palulukan's eyeline. "...tam tam…" [Be calm, Thanator, it's alright…]
"I am sorry for what they have done to you, mighty one." So'lek continued softly as he drew his knife. He suppressed a wince as the movement jarred his injuries, but refused to let himself falter now.
The Palulukan's eye flicked to his blade, then back up at him. Something in its terror fillws gaze seemed to calm as if the creature understood what it was So'lek offered him, but it snarled again when So'lek shifted closer.
"Return to Eywa, ma 'eylan, may you find peace from your pain."
With a well placed thrust of his blade the mighty beast gave one last agonised shudder before it sunk lifeless into the dirt. As if punished for the action of taking such a life, So'lek found himself hissing against the pain of his own injuries, forehead pressing into the leathery skin of the Palulukan's side, still warm, but it would not be for long. So'lek knew well enough if he didn't wish to join his fallen friend now then it would take a great deal of time and rest to heal...
But rest he could ill afford.
"So be it..." He growled, eyeing the Palulukan, allowing the ferocity of the animal to fester within him. He'd battled this for years, the mantle of the Dog Tag Warrior... he'd spent years studying the Palulukan, even bonded with one, yet the ferocity he'd felt then paled in comparison to this.
There could be no more mercy. There could be no more walking away. So'lek knew he must become as close a friend to pain as he must of his rage, let them fuel him in the battles to come… whether he became the Dog Tag Warrior once more...
... or turned to the Palulukan, hunter in the night. He would do whatever he had to, become whoever he must, endure whatever was thrown at him.
His suffering mattered not. Only one thing did... Tamtey.
All to save her.
<——< TAMTEY >——>
The cold had seeped deep into her bones hours ago, but that was not why Tamtey found herself shivering in the cell she was imprisoned within.
So'lek was gone.
With him, her fight. She'd cried and screamed and raged against her captors, a hellion, they'd called her… but inside she felt hollow.
Hollow in a way she never had before- by Eywa was grief a close companion of hers whether she wanted it or not. She'd lost almost all she held dear, but this… This was something else entirely.
Most akin to losing Ah'ari, perhaps, this deep seated pain of one so close to you ripped away.
But the numbness wasn't enough this time. After Ah'ari had been the following orders, the head down; yes sir no sir three bags full sir, the routine that had brought her solace, becoming just what the RDA wanted, hiding the rebelliousness for fear, fear of the gun that took her sister away… None of that would help her now.
So'lek had been her dawn to the life she finally wanted to live. Now he was gone, all she knew was darkness- that of places far from Pandora, where nighttimes were not lit with the glow of interconnected life. Skypeople darkness. With it, what always followed the Skypeople, Despair and pain.
Pain, a flicker of an ember in the dark. An image of So'lek in her mind.
The Dog-Tag Warrior, ended by their hands. The man she…
…the man she loved. A broken sob escaped her again, no tears left to cry, just pathetoc broken noises… But she did love him. He was all she wanted, no matter that he'd spent sixteen years awake that she had passed sleeping, every fight she made for him, every clan contacted was made for his approval, every connection she fostered with Eywa a desperate desire to understand herself, what it meant to be Sarentu, and to bring him closer to her.
And now he was gone because of her. Lead right into a trap, and they'd fallen for it.
"Get your hands off--!" So'lek's ferocious roar echoed in her ears again. She basked in the warmth of his protection even as she struggled to reconcile with the truth in what had happened.
This same cycle had turned over and over more times than Tamtey could count in this cell. An unwillingness to accept he was dead. The pain of knowing he was. The ember she harbored began to flicker, as hours turned to days locked up here.
The Mangkwan thought they knew fire…
They would baulk at the might of hers.
Tamtey stilled her shivers through sheer will alone and hissed up at the camera hidden in the far left corner.
She would fuel her fire with every ounce of forbidden, unrequited love, every flicker of hope torn away, every rageful roar of flame held within her voice they could not- would not- snuff out.
For him, and him alone she could go on. She would become the Dog-Tag Warrior herself if she had to, a mantle to pass on until the RDA were dead and gone…
She could not give up now. Hollow and broken, greiving and alone, injured and lost- none of it mattered now, even if joining him in Eywa felt so, so appealing, she'd fight with the strength of a thousand feral Thanators if thats what it took to succeed.
They had killed the man she loved.
Tamtey would set their world ablaze to avenge him...
Notes:
Random drabble. If you like it let me know, I may continue it. Tbh I just needed an excuse to write whumpy shit about these two and I am amazed no one has jumped on the whump train for So'lek and Tamtey yet.
Not beta'd or edited. Just wrote this around clients this week since my dumb arse decided I should spend the entirety of reading week/half term from Uni not resting. Nope, instead I dragged myself back the 80 odd miles on public transport to go and tattoo at my old studio for the first time in a year. Aaand I managed to leave my Uni bag in the taxi from the train station so I couldn't finish my Uni work (picking it up tomorrow, thankfully). I am. Very tired.
"Make me helpless
Tie me down and use your rope
Made of velvet
Then turn the lights down low
Bare your soul 'til it's naked
Bite my lip 'til you break it
Steal my heart, get it wasted
Don't do it slow"
Even in the fall lies the choice to rise once more (Star Wars : Remnants)
I'm writing a fic set in an alternate universe, where Cal doesn't destroy the holocron and become an Inquisitor on ao3, here's a snippet of the fourteenth chapter.
Summary : The Order has fallen. The Jedi are hunted. The survivors are nothing but remnants. But some refuse to vanish. In the aftermath of Order 66, an unlikely group tries to come together: Neera, broken but defiant, Jarek, a young almost Jedi haunted by fear, Greez, an old pilot with a broken heart; and BD-1, an uncommon bearer of hope. Fleeing a relentless Empire, they uncover a harrowing truth: their pursuer is none other than Cal Kestis, once a friend, now an Inquisitor. Together, they must face the ruins of a fallen Jedi legacy and the scattered pieces of a forgotten hope. Perhaps, sometimes, the remnants are stronger than what tried to destroy them.
Cal stirred faintly, his lids fluttered and he surfaced slowly from unconsciousness. Neera was already there, seated back in a corner of the room, arms folded. She said nothing. She simply watched him, back straight, motionless, a sentinel waiting her moment. He tried to move, the ties around his wrists and ankles tightened. Bound securely to the stretcher, he had no chance of freeing himself. A shadow of panic crossed his features, quickly suppressed, replaced by that closed mask he always wore.
Neera frowned. She had seen that panic, however brief. She noted the imperceptible tremor in his hands, the quicker breath he fought to control. He tried to sit up, likely to study his restraints, but she saw him wince and stifle a groan. She, for her part, continued to observe, to analyse, to learn more about her target, even if she already knew him. Assuming you knew everything about your quarry was often what cost the most reckless or the most arrogant their lives. She was neither.
Soon, his gaze roved the room, and finally his eyes fell on her. Bright, golden, like two wildfire, as always.
“I remember when Greez and his crew used to show more hospitality,” he spat, almost.
“Probably before you tried to kill him,” Neera replied in the same tone.
He gave a small, humourless laugh and pulled a face that made it look like he was conceding her point. He tugged at his restraints, trying to push himself up a little, wincing again.
“What put you in this state?” she asked.
“Are you worried, or interrogating me?”
She didn’t answer, simply waited patiently for his reply. There was no point wasting breath repeating herself, even less in playing into his game. If she yielded, he’d be the one leading the conversation, and she wouldn’t allow him that power here. He sighed, no doubt understanding what was going through her mind. After all, they had more or less been trained in the same school.
“Vader,” he said at last.
“Why?”
“Because he found out I helped you.”
She narrowed her eyes, as if that would help her see through the mask of the young man in front of her: either he was telling the truth, which was not unlikely where Vader was concerned, or he was lying, trying to guilt her, manipulate her, betray her, which was not impossible either, coming from an Inquisitor.
“How did you find us?” she asked next.
“Don’t you have a guess?” he asked with a smirk.
Again, she said nothing. She rose from her chair and stepped slowly toward him, towering over him thanks to the advantage given by his prone position, pinned to the infirmary cot.
“I hid a tracker in your little youngling’s bag,” he finally admitted, staring at her as though daring her to react.
“You swore you hadn’t.”
“I lied.”
That confirmed it: you could never take an Inquisitor at their word. She kept her expression neutral, pressing on with the interrogation methodically.
“You asked us for help before you passed out. How do I know you actually need it?”
“You saw me dying, didn’t you?”
“How do I know it wasn’t staged? That you won’t betray us? That you truly need help? How do I know I can trust you?”
This time, he had no words. He dropped his gaze. She understood the silence for what it was: she couldn’t. He had no proof to give, no credible explanation, nothing that could show he was no longer an enemy but a man in need.
“How did Vader know?” she pressed.
“He’s Vader,” was all he said.
“I’ll need more than that.”
“You’ve never met him, have you? If you had, you’d know you don’t need more. He’s Vader. Nothing ever escapes him.”
She frowned. Even the mention of the Sith, the mere thought of him, terrified him. She had heard of the Emperor’s right hand, of course. Everyone had, in the Empire. She had heard the rumours, too.
“Apparently you escaped him,” she pointed out. “How?”
“Luck?”
“Or a trap.”
“I like to think I’ve got some talent for surviving.”
“Even if it means leaving a trail of corpses behind you?”
“As if you act any differently?”
She grimaced, annoyed. He had her, just this once. She couldn’t allow herself to get dragged in, had to remain stone-faced, pressing on straight to the point, without diversion.
“How do we escape him?” she asked.
“By staying on the exact opposite side of the galaxy. Honestly, besides Obi-Wan Kenobi, no one’s ever eluded him for long.”
“Why Obi-Wan Kenobi?”
“No idea. Vader’s not the type to explain his choices.”
She sighed, frustrated. No one in the Empire ever explained anything, because they were all taught to obey blindly, like fanatics.
“You want me to tell you what I do know?” he finally offered, his voice lower, almost conspiratorial, as though he were about to share a secret.
She arched a brow, crossed her arms, and gave a slow nod, her gaze hard, waiting for what would follow.
“I know you don’t believe me. That you think I’m lying with every word. That I could sell you out to the first Imperial cruiser that passes. And maybe you’re right.”
He smiled, but it was nothing pleasant. Neera didn’t reply. Not yet. She wanted to see how far he’d go.
“You think you’ve got me because I’m strapped to this bed?” he continued. “You’ve got me because I allow it. Because if I wanted to, you’d already be dead.”
His words cut the air like a blade. But his eyes, despite it all, betrayed a deep, crushing exhaustion. He was bluffing. She was sure of it. He was just trying to claw back ground. She leaned in toward him, close enough to feel his ragged breath.
“If you could, you already would have,” she whispered. “And the very fact that you haven’t proves you’re in no position to speak of power. You lost that the moment you lost so much blood, you collapsed in front of us. And in that moment, if I had wanted, you’d already be dead.”
Cal gave a short, rasping laugh, quickly cut off by a grimace of pain that clenched his teeth, a cruel smirk curling his lips.
“You always overestimate yourself, trooper.”
Neera held his gaze, unflinching, and felt she was nearing a fragile line. One more step, and either he’d crack, or close off for good.
Even the finest-forged mask will one day crack ( Star Wars : Remnants)
I'm writing a fic set in an alternate universe, where Cal doesn't destroy the holocron and become an Inquisitor on ao3, here's a snippet of the thirteenth chapter.
Summary : The Order has fallen. The Jedi are hunted. The survivors are nothing but remnants. But some refuse to vanish. In the aftermath of Order 66, an unlikely group tries to come together: Neera, broken but defiant, Jarek, a young almost Jedi haunted by fear, Greez, an old pilot with a broken heart; and BD-1, an uncommon bearer of hope. Fleeing a relentless Empire, they uncover a harrowing truth: their pursuer is none other than Cal Kestis, once a friend, now an Inquisitor. Together, they must face the ruins of a fallen Jedi legacy and the scattered pieces of a forgotten hope. Perhaps, sometimes, the remnants are stronger than what tried to destroy them.
Silence fell, abrupt, suffocating. They all froze, glancing at one another, because they had all felt it at the same moment. A wave of burning rage, of fury and anguish, crashed over them, so heavy it was nearly suffocating. And it was not their own. Every one of them knew anger and pain by heart. Yet none of them had ever touched anything like this, this sensation that pierced through them like a blade. The very air seemed to vibrate, every breath grew strained. None of the Inquisitors dared move, each one suddenly diminished beneath the crushing force now pressing down on the chamber. They were terrified, petrified by a presence they all knew was approaching, inescapable. Majestic. Menacing.
Cal stood rigid, so tense it was almost painful. Beneath the surface, his heart pounded against his ribs, each beat thundering into his temples. His throat, parched, tightened with every breath, the air so thick with fear and electricity it barely filled his lungs. For an instant, he thought his legs might give way. His hands, clasped tightly behind his back in a near-military stance, squeezed into each other, seeking some anchor, anything to cling to in the storm threatening to break through his composure.
His breaths came shallow, imperceptible, tiny gulps of air he forced into a steady rhythm. Panic crawled under his skin, weighed on his chest, but he refused to let it show. He clenched his jaw, lifted his chin just slightly, forcing himself into the impassive mask expected of him. Every nerve was strung taut. He fixed his eyes on a precise point on the wall, carefully avoiding the gaze of his fellow Inquisitors. From the corner of his eye, though, he saw they were all doing the same, with varying success.
The chamber doors opened with a grinding roar, and a stronger silence fell like a blade. The air thickened, charged with that oppressive, mechanical breath, familiar to all, dreaded by all. Each inhalation rang like a funeral bell. Each exhalation shook the walls.
The black silhouette filled the threshold. Towering, immense, draped in a cloak that devoured the light, it advanced with inexorable slowness. Boots struck the floor with implacable rhythm. The Grand Inquisitor accompanied him, impassive, the only one unbowed by the suffocating weight of this presence, the only one who seemed not utterly crushed beneath the shadow of the Sith Lord.
But behind them, Cal saw the officer he had manipulated, the one whose memories he had erased to allow the little Jedi and his Purge Trooper to escape. His stomach knotted. If even the smallest flaw in his deception came to light, it would all unravel in an instant. No, he had covered his tracks. He would be safe, so long as nothing slipped through his mask.
Darth Vader stopped. His breathing filled the room, pounding fear into every chest. None of the Inquisitors dared lift their eyes. Even the most arrogant were reduced to shadows, cowering before the weight of his presence.
“You are no doubt aware,” the Grand Inquisitor began, stepping forward to address the others who all avoided his gaze, “that one of our prisoners, a Jedi, has escaped.”
No one answered. They all knew a single misstep could cost them far too dearly.
“Not even a Jedi,” he continued. “Not even a Padawan. A youngling, who slipped through our grasp here, within Fortress Inquisitorius. I would very much like to know how such a thing could happen in what is supposed to be one of the most secure places in the entire galaxy. One that you are sworn to guard.”
To him, they were all guilty. Perhaps that was for the best, if it meant he would not search deeper. Cal might even have felt relieved, if not for the Sith Lord standing beside him, observing their every move.
“I have therefore requested testimony from the one who oversaw the prisoner’s… reconditioning.”
Reconditioning. Cal flinched inwardly at the word. As though it were merely a career change, simply choosing a different path, and not the torment that shattered minds and killed most who endured it.
“Tell us,” the Grand Inquisitor demanded, “which of them was last with the prisoner.”
The officer, of course, pointed to the Twelfth Brother, and Cal allowed himself the slightest relief. His trail was clean. Then Vader’s attention turned upon the accused. Instantly, the Twelfth Brother fell to his knees. Cal almost pitied him. Almost. At the very least, he found him utterly pathetic.
“Lord Vader, I swear, he was still restrained when I left. He was so weak, he shouldn’t have been able to…”
He did not finish the sentence before he was lifted off the ground, clutching at his throat as it was crushed by an invisible hand. By the Force, in Vader’s hand. Every Inquisitor, Cal included, lowered their heads without a sound, as though shrinking might make them small enough to be overlooked.
“Someone… must have… helped him…” the Twelfth Brother managed to rasp.
With a flick of his hand, the Sith Lord hurled him against the wall. The Inquisitor flew like a ragdoll, crashing into the metal so hard it left a mark. He lay motionless, unconscious. The others stared at him for a moment, not out of worry, not out of care, but out of fear that they would be next.
“I know,” Vader said simply, his voice reverberating through the chamber, vibrating in their bones, before he took a slow, deliberate step toward them.
Cal’s face remained a mask, but his heart was racing. He clenched his fists to keep his hands from trembling too much. What did Vader mean, he knew? Knew what? Was it a turn of phrase, suspecting the fugitives had help, or did he know more?
“You have disappointed me for the last time, Inquisitor,” came the Sith’s modulated voice, dark and final.
The snap-hiss of Vader’s blade made Cal react before its crimson glow, or the Sith’s movement. He barely intercepted it, his own saber igniting in time, arms straining beneath the crushing pressure. Vader wasn’t even trying. The blade hummed mere inches from Cal’s face, searing heat biting into his skin.
He tried to break free, but with a simple flick of his free hand, Vader sent him hurtling backward. The impact slammed the breath from his lungs, his saber clattering away. Cal stretched out his hand, desperate to call it back, but the Force closed around his wrist, pinning him to the floor like an iron vise.
Vader advanced, each step tolling like a death knell. Gasping, Cal struggled, finally wrenching his weapon back into his grip with a desperate pull. He pushed himself upright and struck out in a swift arc. With effortless fluidity, Vader parried the blow and, in the same motion, slid his blade toward Cal’s face.
Cal twisted aside, raising his arm instinctively. The searing edge grazed his shoulder. Agony tore through him, a fire that spread across his entire body. He stifled a cry, teeth clenched, staggering under the pain.
“I feel your fear. It chokes you,” Vader’s voice resonated, cold and implacable.
Shaking, Cal forced himself upright, saber still lit in his trembling hand. Around them, the other Inquisitors only watched, just as they had when the Twelfth Brother had been struck down moments before. None would intervene. Better him than them.
Vader advanced slowly, his shadow swallowing the chamber, crimson blade lowered yet overwhelming, unstoppable. Cal saw his hand extend, and then felt it: his own weapon resisting him, his own blade angling toward his head.
“You have already lost.”
Cal screamed, rage pent up over years, humiliation beneath an enemy who crushed him utterly, and searing pain burning through every nerve. He fought with everything he had not to die. His muscles screamed, his teeth ground together. But the blade pressed closer.
Word count: 2.6k
Pairing: Inquisitor Cal Kestis x Female Reader, who is an Imperial Technician on Nur.
Summary: Returning to the airship an Imperial Inquisitor exceeds your expectations. Rated E for mature content, smut with plot. Part 2 of 2.
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The door to the shuttle closes with a fizz and along with the heavy mood, a silence befalls. Cal doesn’t seem to be shaken or bothered by whatever happened back at the club, but bugging you is a feeling that you don’t immediately recognize as concern.
Cal hurries into the cockpit before you can figure out how to talk about what just occurred. The ship sets off and you feel somewhat relieved to leave the planet unscathed. In the lounge area, you place the small crystal carefully at the side of the holo table.
Before Cal gets back, you head to the cooking station to get something to do with your unoccupied hands. You’ve always been a better thinker when you have something mindless to use them for – like doing maintenance tasks around the Fortress or fixing droids. After wandering aimlessly and gulping down half a glass of water, you take a deep breath and turn to see the Inquisitor on the dark leather sofa, leaning on his knees and eyes trained on the small crystal. The bubble of concern only bloats more.
“Hey.” Your voice trembles more than you want and you swallow again. Cal tilts his head but doesn’t tear his eyes off the crystal.
You pace closer to him, each step careful and measured. The silken dress swooshes around your shins. “I don’t know what happened back there and you don’t have to tell me, but how are you feeling now?”
After a nerve-wrecking beat, Cal raises his gaze from the holo table and a hint of confusion plays on his features.
“I’m okay,” he replies slowly, apparently unable to believe that you’re asking about his well-being.
You take more tentative steps forward, ready to turn tail at any moment and retreat to the sleeping chamber if need be.
“What is it?” you ask, nodding towards the piece of crystal that Cal is again staring at.
The Inquisitor glances at you and you relax a little seeing how… unaffected he now seems.
“A kyber crystal,” Cal replies coolly.
“What? Really?” You skitter forward to take a better look at the crystal that you just held in your hand. You’ve heard about kyber and its theoretical uses as weapon components, but never seen and much less touched one before – well, apparently until now.
Cal stands up and reaches for his lightsaber. He holds the weapon in front of him, pondering and still inspecting the small crystal just a few feet away.
“What will you do with it?” you question, but hurry to add: “Not that it’s any of my business.”
For a second you think Cal is about to slice up the kyber, but he calmly walks closer to place the weapon next to it.
“Hold on a moment…” He leaves the holo table with a slight touch across your back as he passes. Shivers course through you. You’re still wearing the smooth, light dress and are hit with a sudden urge to change into something else.
Cal returns in a short moment.
“The kyber crystal… It once belonged to this.”
He places a metallic item on the table next to the crystal piece. It’s another lightsaber, you realize, but very different from the one he carries. This one is old and doesn’t look anything like the ones the Inquisitors use.
Every cell in your body is burning with the question of who did it belong to, but you hold it back. Firstly, because it’d be bad to get messed up in Inquisitor business. Secondly, because you have an inkling that the old lightsaber once belonged to a Jedi of the Republic.
You look from the items to the Inquisitor and find his inquisitive eyes on you. He answers your unvoiced question:
“It belonged to a Jedi called Jaro Tapal.”
You don’t know this name, but it seems to hold a meaning to Cal.
“Why did you retrieve it then?” you ask in a small voice.
Cal looks solemn, but a swirl of emotions churns just beneath the calm facade.
“I shouldn’t tell you,” he finally replies. “For your own protection.”
Dread momentarily fills you and you recognize that the concern threaded into the feeling isn’t for your own safety. You’re worried – actually, scared – that Cal will do something reckless and stupid.
You turn to stare at the innocent piece of kyber.
“I said it before but… I’m really glad you agreed to come with me,” Cal says softly.
“Not like you gave me a chance to say no,” you scoff.
He looks actually dejected, but he steps inside your personal space and you let – no, welcome – him.
“And…” His fingers lightly skim up your arm. “Sorry about what happened at the club. You deserve to be treated better.”
“I’m glad to hear you say that.”
Cal leans towards you and you barely register the touch on your waist when he lifts you to sit on the cool metal surface of the holo table – and not a moment later he is kissing you tenderly. Your heart aches almost violently in reaction.
Your lips touch lightly again and again, and each motion works to ground Cal more back into reality and your presence. His hands slowly get hungrier for your skin. The silken material of the ridiculous dress flows underneath his fingertips like liquid.
Cal slowly, as if begrudgingly, pulls back from your lips, leaving you aching for more.
“Why did you leave?” he asks quietly.
You know what he is asking about. When you jumped away from his arms as if electrocuted and ran half-naked out of his living quarters. Maybe not your finest moment. Still, you don’t know whether to regret it or applaud your self-preservation.
“I’m just a technician,” you reply off-handedly.
Cal doesn’t need to be concerned about your feelings. You’ve known what this is from the start, but you’re still not ready to put your life on the line even for an Inquisitor as sexy and funny as him.
“You give yourself too little credit,” Cal argues with a hint of a smile that is so weirdly at odds with his red-rimmed irises filled with liquid amber.
You scoff. “What credit is there to give?”
“You’re kind,” –he presses a kiss to your cheek– “funny,” –another kiss lands on the corner of your mouth– “very good with your hands…”
You laugh throatily and circle your arms around his waist, pulling him closer between your legs.
“Just being with you is soothing…” he continues, “I guess that’s ‘cause you’re not trying to murder me.”
Your head tilts back. He kisses your neck and it tickles.
“What if I am?” you ask slyly but your voice wavers in rhythm with Cal’s advances. You need to make an effort to breathe.
He pauses briefly before almost lazily continuing to drag his lips across your neck. Warmth floods every spot he touches and it spreads until the feeling covers every inch of you.
“Then I’m already dead,” he murmurs right next to your ear and you shiver.
Cal’s hand treks over your thigh, finding the high slit of your dress and using the opportunity it provides to start hiking the cloth up.
You kick the heels off your feet and they clatter on the floor. Cal carefully lowers one strap and lets the dress droop over your shoulder. The smooth and cool material flows down your arm and the other side of the bodice soon follows. Your chest is only covered with a skimpy but unbelievably supportive strip that some could generously call a bra.
Cal leans down to continue the kisses, but his hands still work, pushing the dress up your thighs and sides until he helps you pull it from under your rear.
Even if it began as heartfelt and gentle compared to the hot desperation at the club, by the time the dress is bundled at your waist, the mood is back to urgent, even frantic. You both have wanted, waited for this for weeks and it’s so surreal because you only just realised each other’s existence. Cal has filled your mind completely ever since the first meeting, as you have his.
Cal’s hands are hectic in moving on from getting your clothes out of the way to touching you. He cups your breast, kneading the soft flesh. His mouth silences the content sighs yours tries to make. Third time is the charm, you suppose, when making out with an Imperial Inquisitor.
Since the dress hem is no longer constricting your movements, your legs coil around Cal’s hips, pulling him closer. You’re unsteadily teetering on the edge of the table but every inch of your body is screaming kriffing finally as you feel his arousal against the junction of your thigh. You start tearing open his shirt.
There is no question about where you’re headed. The time for being slow and careful has passed. You rip Cal’s hand off from your side and move it between your legs. He gladly complies, quickly finding your clit through the fabric of your panties and pushing his advantage. Your legs widen open and you need a moment to focus on breathing.
You somehow manage to unzip Cal’s pants in the midst of heated kisses, laboured breaths, and lascivious, expectant glances. His eyes flutter closed and his whole body pauses the moment you palm his erection.
Feeling vindicated by how hard he is, you peel the cloth down to gain access and curl your fingers around him. Cal watches you, mouth slightly open and breaths ragged as you pump him – carefully at first, then applying pressure and speed until his breathing matches the pace and he has to take purchase from the table.
“You might want to stop…” he mumbles breathily.
You don’t grasp the hint at first. Then you stop abruptly.
You exchange breathy, excited grins as Cal lifts you from the rear with one hand and helps your panties off with the other. He holds your gaze as his greedy fingers find your entrance once more and push unceremoniously inside – your arousal is so evident that it’s effortless. He smirks as you groan needily at the delightful intrusion.
“You’re unbelievable,” you mutter but can’t help eagerly spreading your legs wider.
Cal drags his other hand up your thigh in a teasing stride. He slips a finger again inside you and you moan softly. He coats your clit with the wetness and starts working you straight into overdrive.
Cal watches as you bite your lip in order to muffle the sounds about to erupt from your throat with each flick of his finger.
“Hey, no need to hold back. It’s just us here, in the middle of space… I want to hear you,” he mumbles, half-forced but honest. And he has a point.
You completely give up on reciprocating the pleasure, just leaning heavily back on your hands on the counter while Cal massages you with two fingers and his hot breaths get heavier against your neck. He dips the fingers inside you ever so often, but it’s not enough. Not enough of him.
“Cal, I need you inside me. Now,” you mewl, somewhere in the back of your mind surprised at how coherent you’re able to sound.
“You’ll have to come for me first,” he groans and applies more pressure that makes you want to tip over to release right then and there. There is just something else you want more.
“N-no, I want to come… with you… inside me–”
Cal’s eyes flash, dark and intrigued. He pauses the assault to lose his pants, standing in front of your delightfully messed up body in nothing but the open shirt and his erection pressing against your needily pulsating core. You’re deliciously on the edge of over stimulation, the release hanging just by a thread. You’re ready to come on him, to have him inside you so much deeper than the fingers, stretching and pushing.
Cal pulls you to the edge of the table and slides into your wet heat in a fluid and effortless but careful thrust. And you see stars as he works his way all the way down, pulling you closer at the same time with one hand on your ass. Your core clenches preemptively around him, but you hold back with all your willpower.
Kriff, he feels amazing.
Cal starts moving at a firm, steady pace. You huff loudly and lean your head onto his shoulder as his fingers soon work you again. The sensation is overwhelming and you throw yourself eagerly and completely into it. It’s becoming harder and harder to not give up and let yourself come on his hard, smooth length, but you don’t want the moment to end. Not just yet.
Suddenly Cal finds just the right spot and pressure, and you yelp out a surprised moan, and immediately after bite your lip again.
“This good?” he asks but you can’t reply.
You can’t even form a thought since the mind-blowing orgasm hits you with his next thrust so hard that your vision is going black. Cal feels it too right after the words have left his mouth as his motions become more jarred and compulsive, his breaths gasping, and his grip on your rear pulls you into him more tightly.
He grunts, hot, heavy breaths on the back of your neck and his body goes rigid as his warmth spills inside you with the last couple of erratic and deep thrusts. Each pulse of him inside you feels like a new wave of euphoria and you mindlessly wonder if it would feel even better if you were straddling his hips, applying pressure to just the right spots as he filled you.
You both stay still for what feels like minutes, riding out the fast, messy orgasms inside your small, personal galaxy. You would’ve never thought you’d be doing this with the Inquisitor – on a shuttle’s holo table out of all places.
It feels like something settles between you, an unvoiced secret and a promise, and you relish it as you feel Cal dripping out of you. You hope the holo table can take a bit of… fluid on it.
He stumbles to lean back, runs a hand through his messy hair, and breathes in deeply. His bare chest glistens with sweat and a pulse of desire sweeps through you at the sight. You did that. You caused him to look so disheveled and unorderly.
“The kyber piece… I want you to take it.”
“What?” you blurt out, definitely having heard each word of his but not understanding the meaning.
He snatches his pants off the floor.
“I know it’s asking a lot.”
It is. If anyone were to find it among your things, it would end badly. But you suppose so it would mean the same fate to Cal if it were discovered in his quarters.
As Cal pulls his own pants up, you skid off the table onto trembling legs and start pulling the bundled dress up. Cal reaches the straps before you do, straightening them, and carefully places them over your shoulders.
“Why not just hide it somewhere?” you question, chest still heaving and pulse soaring.
Cal shakes his head. “I can’t risk anyone accidentally finding it.”
You swallow thickly. The consequences would be fatal.
“Please,” he whispers.
“Okay. I’ll keep it safe for you,” you reply.
He huffs in relief. “Thank you.”
A beat of uncanny silence fills the lounge and with each passing second you find it harder to believe that you just had sex with Cal Kestis.
“What happens next?” you ask quietly.
“Next… we get you back home.”
You slip out the most disappointed, “Oh.”
As Cal returns to the cockpit and you watch his retreating back, you remember again that he is an Imperial Inquisitor and you’re just a technician.
