#so. so wait Merrin has her own little cabin then?

[sauntering-down]

(throws a chair) HOW THE FUCK IS THE MANTIS LAID OUT????

[breakfastteatime]

Today's Survivor fic is for the anon who requested 'The last of us'.

Cal wakes early, the others still asleep in their cabins. With BD still charging and sleep already a distant memory, Cal decides he needs some air, and some space. He’s not in the headspace to meditate (even if Cere and Master Tapal always insisted that was exactly the time to meditate). He leaves a note on the galley table (‘Out for a walk. Have comm. Call if you need me’) and heads out. They’ve landed near a beach on Tanalorr this time, Greez and BD having undertaken a survey of the planet and sought out alternative landing spaces. The Jedi of the High Republic did most of the hard work for them by establishing their temple in a perfect spot, geographically speaking, and yet they need to know what the rest of the planet is like, seeing how it’s untouched by the Empire – or the Republic. Greez wanted a beach cookout, so he’d landed them here. Yesterday, Cal patiently gave Kata a few swimming lessons. She’s still a little nervous and learning in a pool or a pond would be better, but she gets the basics and is happy to stay in the shallows for now.

It didn’t take her long to discover the joys of splashing her teacher right in the face, either.

This morning, however, it’s just him. The tide lulls Cal, the Force calm on the beach. The faint undercurrent of darkness lingering on Tanalorr fades away. Cal isn’t sure what that feeling is yet. The time to explore it will come later. Much later unless the Force compels him to investigate sooner. Right now, the Force seems to be determined to make him rest.

Rest. Right. Every time he closes his eyes, he sees people dying. Sometimes he thinks he should go away, far away, from everyone he loves. Their odds of survival will surely increase in his absence.

Cal kicks off his boots, tugs off his socks, shrugs out of his jacket, yanks his shirt over his head, and wades into the ocean. Sand swallows his feet. The chill fades as his body adjusts, and he ducks under the surface, kicking his way into deeper water. He doesn’t stop until the seabed is so far away, he’d need his rebreather to reach the depths. Rolling onto his back, Cal faces the sun and closes his eyes, the water and the Force carrying him.

He is alone. Adrift. A Jedi without an Order. He wants to believe so badly that there are others out there, and yet…

Malicos.

Dagan.

Bode.

He too succumbed to darkness, fell into its thrall, wielded its intoxicating power. Strong, unyielding, he had conquered many enemies, the echo of Cere’s power guiding his every vengeful move.

Never again. Never. If he falls, if he gives in again, if he fails to fight, what remains of the Jedi falls with him. He’s never found any signs of other survivors, not until they jab a lightsaber in his face. Cere said there were ‘very few of us left now’. Did she mean others besides herself and Cal? If she did, what if those others are just as broken as he is? As broken as Malicos, Dagan and Bode were? Twisted like the Inquisitors? Maybe it would be safer for what’s left of his family for him to never seek out other Jedi, to remain the last of the Order, to protect Force-sensitives without turning them into soldiers. The Force belongs to everyone, not just the Jedi. Merrin, the Zeffo, Kashyyyk’s Origin Tree, the Anchorites… All of them, and so many more, with their own perceptions of what the Force is – what it can be.

With or without the Jedi, Tanalorr will be a haven, and it will house all the remains of Cere’s Archive, become her living, breathing legacy. Cal swears he will do better, and if he is the last of the Jedi, he will ensure their ideals live on.

For now though, he should return to shore, go back to the others, and contact The Hidden Path. The galaxy could use some hope, and Cal finally has a little to share.

He returns to the beach. Merrin waits on the shore, fresh caf in her hands. “Did you find what you are looking for?” she asks, blunt as ever.

He takes the drink. “I hope so.”