Careful with that thing; it's been though hell

V - Memories

Cal's been in pain a lot. Jedi are used to getting injured, getting back up, and learning from the mistakes that caused them to get hurt in the first place.

He supposes he's familiar with pain. His first brush with it came when he was playing a game of Droid Tag with his friends back in the Jedi temple. One reckless turn while trying to get away from a seeker droid, and suddenly five-year-old Cal was flat on the ground, both knees and elbows scraped up. Master Yoda himself had spared a moment to patch him up, though not without gently lecturing him on the hazards of running while doing so.

Since then, his life has been tainted here and there with pain. The more painful ones stand out in his mind, like when he nearly fell out of the Jedi Temple on Ilum trying to collect his first kyber crystal or when he, embarrassingly enough, singed a finger cleaning his lightsaber once. (Needless to say, that lesson definitely stuck.)

And of course, this mission hasn't been without injuries. How many times had he fought Trilla before getting captured? And what about all the times he's been dangerously close to dropping off a cliff or taken out by those Nightbrothers?

Perhaps one similarity between him and Trilla is the fact that pain has only solidified their endurance for survival. But he's sure, quite sure, that Trilla hasn't yet had to endure the burdens of anyone other than her own—all at once.

Trilla's lightsaber only showed him her story, her suffering. But the interrogation chair demands more than that. Because once his hands brush the seat, a burning sensation spreads, prickling up his arm and bringing darkness with it. He flinches, closing his eyes.

And without meaning to, the world around him fades away.

Images whip by. Images of stormtroopers, Purge troopers, Clone troopers, people who look like Inquisitors; Sand dunes, vast oceans, sprawling grasslands, bustling cities; green, blue, red lightsabers, all locked in battle; a Wookiee Jedi, a Pau'an Inquisitor; at one point, even Master Yoda, engaged in battle.

His ears burn with the sounds of screams, of terror and anger alike. Someone shouts, "LOOK OUT!" on his left. A hundred blaster bolts whizz by his head and he feels the burn of a lightsaber somewhere in his chest. And maybe his legs, too. He sinks to his knees in a field stained dark red. Above, the skies are dotted with star destroyers. The air reeks of smoke and death.

The images go faster then, and both the fields and the sky vanish. He's a Twi'lek in Jedi robes, strapped to the chair screaming, pleading for mercy that never comes. Needles from the chair dig into his arms and for a second he sees blue, blue like eyes or maybe blood but he can't remember why that's important before everythingfadestoblack—

He's an Abednedo warrior now, shaking in his restraints. The pathetic troopers in front of him shuffle their feet nervously, blasters trained at his head.

"You'll never take anything from me!" He bellows and the troopers step back. But in the distance there's a dark figure cloaked in black and suddenly the air is stolen from his, his—

He's human now. Also in Jedi robes. There's something familiar about this, but he's in too much pain to focus on that just now. The Pau'an Inquisitor is back, standing patiently before him.

"I will ask again," The Inquisitor begins. "Where are they?"

"No," Cal chokes out. For a moment he sees Trilla. He sees her huddled in a cave, fear etched into her expression. She's holding on to a few younglings who cling to her like a lifeline.

But then the image of his Padawan fades when the electric panels connected to his temples come to life again—oh Trilla I am so sorry

Trilla