Private Feeble Joy

[Aleksandr Stirsea]

It was all my fault. It was all my fault. It was all my fault.

He sat there silently at a table in his master’s freighter, and Aleksandr Stirsea allowed the guilt to swallow him whole. It had all happened because of his selfish desires. He was the one that had begged Cale for a lightsaber. He was the one that wanted to fly through the Alliance naval presence despite knowing they would surely be detected. He was the one that made Cale a prisoner, and it was eating him alive.

Beneath the glove that Aleks wore over his right hand, he felt his old burn scars twitch ever so slightly.

If he wanted his master back he would have to rescue him himself. Gathering his possessions was a short process done in the overbearing hush of the starship’s soundlessness. All he needed was his blaster and a small pack full of supplies from his time as a thief. He wondered if Ronan would scold him for leaving without him, or if he’d be praised for taking the initiative. In the end it did not matter to the young man. He was already resolved.

At the door of the ship Aleks paused to collect himself. It was no good, his mind was a mess full of anger, regret, and faintly, the quiet fear of loss. He finally opened the door to brave the snows of Ilum, but he never got the chance. Cale Gunderson stood before him, seemingly as free and alive as he ever had been. And Aleks let all of it out, those feelings that had built inside of him- that had made him feel so worthless. And for once when he addressed the man before him it wasn’t ‘old man’ or ‘master’, it was just-

“Cale.” The word came choking out of him, sounding more of a hoarse prayer than a hello. Then came the first tear, trailing slowly out of the pools that had come to inhabit Aleksandr’s iris.

“Why did you leave me?” He asked. And it sounded like an accusation, because it was.

“What if they had put you in a cage? Or killed you? What would I have then?” And although he knew his anger was selfish, that did not stop it pouring out of him.

“Why did you let them take you?” His questions had turned into full blown shouts now. “Why didn’t we fight? Like we always have?” And he stepped up to Cale, close as he dared, and he let his rage give way. He wrapped up Cale in an embrace and sobbed into his shoulder. He felt then like the helpless boy he had been 7 years ago.

“Why did you give up?"

Ronan Calore

 

[Cale Gunderson]

Cale hadn't felt so instantly vulnerable since he'd stood in front of Tallia Farn and been forced to explain what he'd done to her, even seeing the Jedi pull through his records hadn't left him feeling so...exposed. He didn't know what to do, or what to say as the boy fell onto him, and for a moment he let it stay that way. But gingerly, he lifted his arm and put it around the boy. The Jedi had warnings about attachment, though far less strict than they'd once been, it was something they had to be cognizant of and was of course a lesson Cale had never taught bar shows of indifference.

Like when he'd let Hector leave, or when they'd watched Tup Tup die.

"Because they're not bad people, Aleks, they just don't-didn't, understand. The people we've fought have always been the rough sort, even if they used the law as an excuse, they weren't...good. I don't want to hurt them, and you can't go on thinking that violence is the only solution." Cale wondered if he ought to have considered letting the boy study with another, better prepared, more orthodox master, but he didn't consider it for even the briefest moment. He also found no need to mention how prepared he'd been to kill everything in that temple that might've dared to try and get at Aleks.

"I know I haven't always been the best teacher of that, and Ronan, well, it's in his blood."

"If they'd taken me, you'd have been smart and stayed with Ronan, and you two would've figured it out, probably spring me in some half-assed jailbreak. They weren't going to kill me, I've been doing this longer than them." He teased, rather than give the true answer as he broke the embrace to place a firm hand on his student's shoulder and look him in the eyes. Aleks felt like the boy he'd been seven years before, but Cale's eyes gleamed in a way they never had before. He realized then it was time to tell the truth.

"It was time for me to face this Aleks, even if I didn't know it. If I hadn't what would've happened then? Even if we'd killed those two, we'd have never made orbit before they shot us down, it would've been a tragedy. Two Jedi merely doing their duty murdered, us turned to ashes? Going with them was the only way." Cale tried to assure the boy, mind racing with some way to alleviate his strife.

"The woman, she found me out, and she cleared my charges instead of arresting me, she believed me. And even though it gains her nothing, she has offered to wipe my record clean, to allow my induction back into the order, which of course means yours as well." Cale smiled, genuinely, with what came next. "No more hiding, Aleks, we'll go where we need to, but we'll always safe harbor, clean beds, and fresh food. And decent equipment maybe."

Their lives would be made better, his, Aleks', even Ronan's. But selfishly, Cale wondered if he might finally be granted the mercy of a full night's sleep, even if he still didn't think the Jedi's struggles could truly make lasting change.

"But, we can talk more on that later. Do you have them? I was sure to slip you mine." The crystals were what had brought them there, it was past time they saw to using them. His boy had earned a saber at his side long ago, and it was time to see that realized.

Aleksandr Stirsea ​

 

[Aleksandr Stirsea]

“No more hiding.” He agreed at last. The stream of tears came to a halt, though gradually, and he joined his master in walking deeper into the starship. He flung the bag he’d prepared down a hall to the right, then fished through his cloak pockets for the crystals. He hadn’t even noticed Cale’s planting of the gemstone on his person. Maybe he had taught his mentor something after all.

“Right here,” Aleksandr said, placing the kyber crystals side by side on the table before them. “The one on the right is yours.” He clarified. As he sat down before they began their construction, he turned to Cale once more.

“You might want to call for Ronan,” The padawan warned. “Last I saw him he was looking for his thermal detonators.”

 

[Cale Gunderson]

Cale took a seat with his learner, the small grin remaining permanently affixed to his face. The crystals showed all kinds of colors in the light of the caves, it wasn't until it was nested in a fully constructed saber that it showed its true nature. Cale was admittedly quite curious what his would come out to be. Green, yellow, purple even? It'd give him some kind of direction, some sort of hint about who he really was. Cale took the crystal in his palm and rolled it in his hands.

There were millions like it in those caves, billions even, but this one, it was his.

"He's smart for a buckethead, he'll figure it out. Lets get started, padawan learner." Cale jeered, opening the bag and drawing the components out from it onto the table in a pile. One would think they'd need to organize it, but they'd gone over the construction enough time that he trusted in both of them to simply figure it out.

"You've earned this kid. Lets see what we get."

Aleksandr Stirsea

 

[Aleksandr Stirsea]

When it came time for the building Aleks knew to clear his mind first. He reached into the Force around him, allowed the life energy to swirl and gather as he harnessed it. His components floated into the air and hung in stasis while he manipulated them. He fit each part to the other as carefully and smoothly as his connection to the Force would allow, and by the end, Aleks was proud of the weapon he had built.

The saber was a long thing of silver make with stripes of black on the hilt and an activator that jutted out slightly near it’s midpoint. He held it out in front of him and looked to his master.

“Let’s see if I messed up my first lightsaber.” Aleksandr joked as his thumb pressed the ignition.

The emitter made a quick hissing sound, then, the plasma blade sprung forth. It was a deep, azure color, like that of the ocean, or a sapphire. Vaguely spherical, and taller than he’d expected it to be, Aleksandr was beyond satisfied. His eyes must’ve been huge, but he was happy to devote his attention entirely to his creation.

 

[Cale Gunderson]

Pieces moved, and Cale walked himself through the steps. A thousand times he'd practiced the motions, a thousand times he'd had the machinery splayed out before him, suspended in the air. But with every movement Cale wavered, pieces would falter, but he'd find the strength to hold on. So many kids had been there when he'd done this the first time, and now it was just him. No one else was left, just him and their ghosts. He'd thought of the specters as punishment, but now he considered that maybe they were meant as guides.

Like his first, the hilt was simplistic in design, plain and without flair other than some weight at the end of the pommel. He'd always been pragmatic like that before, he supposed that'd been a holdover from whatever he'd once been. Cale remembered the chill in the air deep in the caves, how he'd sensed her distress, gone and found her. She could've saved herself, but Cale wanted to help, not for any selfish reasons he might've had now, but because whoever he'd been had simply been good.

Cale's eyes stayed tight as the final bits snapped into place, and remembered Tallia Farn in his arms, remembered laughing as they grew, betraying her, and then leaving her behind. It stung, and of all the faces, hers was the one his mind always went back to. He wondered what she'd have thought of how he turned out, of whoever he really was.

The saber fell into his hand, and he braced himself for the revelation to come, a final answer to the question he'd had since the moment he'd been free of that mask. Cale opened his eyes and thumbed the ignition, and light sprung forth. Something inside him dropped, and every part of his being became horribly confused, and then relieved.

Something wet rolled down his cheek as the same brilliant blue hue as his first saber bathed him in its glow, and gave Cale the answer he'd wanted so long.

He had always been real.

Aleksandr Stirsea ​