Lost Property Box

Chapter 2

"So let me get this right," Announces Quinlan Vos, who may have just met 'probably Senior Padawan' Kestis but was immediately onboard with the guy tagging along because one, his droid friend is the kind of menace Obi would both love and hate, and two, the guy didn't mince words or hide his intent and was incredibly straightforward.

"You're actually almost thirty standard? Gods, you must have serious baby face man."

Padawan Kestis frowned at his reflection, the really cool but obviously painful blaster scar pinching his lips into a further scowl than the guy was trying for.

Quinlan does his best to remember every detail about this guy as he familiarises himself with their shuttle, wanting to tell his best friend everything about his fellow Stewjoni.

Master Tholme finishes their pre-flight checkoff with Du Crion's file on his lap (they'd been keeping an eye on him after Master Tyvokka had flagged the man as a possible risk, and Quinlan's master had been somewhat disgruntled and wary, although grateful, that such a young Force sensitive spotted a truly Fallen Jedi before he did.) the older Shadow frequently glancing back at Padawan Kestis.

"I was twenty-seven, and I still have all my scars, I've just," the man, who is just a kid too, frowns. "Become young again."

"You haven't lost much time," Master Tholme appeases, and Quinlan flashes as supportive a smile he can as the Senior Padawan regards the Master's honesty. "And if in doubt, the High Council will help us."

The man tenses.

As the ship angles toward the edge of the planet's atmosphere, gearing up to jump to hyperspace, Master Tholme turns his full attention to the senior Padawan. "When were you last in the temple, Padawan Kestis?"

"When I was nine, sir," Cal Kestis answers, both Jedi noting his avoidance in saying the word Master.

A gloved hand brushes an arm, and Quinlan pulls his best Obi Wan impression by not reacting when he spots the Scrapper Guild Mark. When the Senior Padawan turns his back to him, Quinlan nods an affirmative to his teacher, and Master Tholme grimaces slightly, outwardly unaffected other than their bond. Padawan Kestis moves to regard Master Tholme fully.

"I... have to admit," he says slowly, the scars on his face making his lip pull strangely. "I'm little lost as to why you to are so comfortable flaunting our nature."

It was a statement that was a question, the same way politicians, or bounty hunters phrase things. Quinlan watches with rapt attention as Master Tholme takes his time to react.

"I have a feeling," says Master Tholme after a moment of waiting. "That your apprenticeship was more than a little... unconventional." Padawan Kestis inclines his head in a way that indicates no shame, but no aggression either.

The droid upon his shoulder's beeps softly, and Padawan Kestis tenses.

"What year is it."

Master Tholme takes a deep breath, and Quinlan steps behind the threshold of the cabin, knowing that a Jedi in a panic attack is a dangerous thing.

"Year 957 RR. It is a Zhell Day on the Jedi sector of Coruscant."

Except Cal Kestis doesn't freak out like they'd expected. His shoulders rise to his ears, and BD lets out a lot of expletives that Quinlan is recording for reasons, okay.

But he doesn't panic.

He flumps loosely to the floor, eyes staring blankly at hyperspace.

"-I don't know that system," he whispers under his breath. "The dating system. I don't- I don't know it."

Master Tholme steps as close as he dares. "It may not have been that long; they usually only implement new dating systems within an era."

Cal raises his gaze to Master Tholme's face. "That could still be five hundred years that I..."

He chokes, and simply sits. No sign in the Force he is in any despair, and yet Quinlan can see it so clearly.

He reaches out, unthinking of the consequences, and grazes Cal's right arm in order to offer some kind of comfort to the guy who looks so much like his best friend and gets locked into one of the most terrifying echoes of his life.

"They're here!"

"Baju! Why're they shooting at us? Why can't I feel them?"

"It's like millions of lights, bright and unique and different, all screamed out in terror and warning at once."

"It came from command; how do we stop it-"

"Execute order 66"

"They were my brothers, my family, my allit. And yet."

"She left me. And I have hated you for so long."

Quinlan.

"Execute order 66."

"The temple is compromised. Do not return. There are no survivors."

Padawan Vos, it's alright, these aren't your memories.

"Master Tapal, please."

"They ordered our deaths at the hands of our own-"

"Inquisitor."

Execute Order 66

"You have failed me."

Execute order 66

"You would be wise to surrender"

(A dark tall thing – a man – holds a red sabre. We stand, shifting from foot to foot, having watched our master and friend get thrown to their death. We are afraid, and yet-)

"Yeah... Probably"

(We stand)

Quinlan, breathe.

"-It's alright Quinlan. You're with Master Tholme."

Master Tholme...

That's right.

"It's a Zhellday, remember?"

A gentle presence brushes his shields, timid and watchful and so very controlled and so much weaker than Obi Wan, but something about the way it cools the growing heat behind Quinlan's eyes feels so familiar and allows him to finally cry.

"Welcome back, Padawan." Master Tholme is grasping his shoulders with a kind but firm hold, but its Cal who sits before him, hands encircling his wrists. Quinlan's wearing two gloves now, one is bigger than he remembers.

"I'm sorry," Says Quinlan, not sure who he's supposed to be apologising to.

Cal Kestis sighs, before smiling. "It's alright – it goes both ways after all. Sorry for wearing so many echoes."

Quinlan frowns. "But I touched your skin."

Cal's smile tightens. "I know."

Master Tholme squeezes Quinlan's shoulder once more, before straightening. "It appears we are at an impasse."

Senior Padawan Kestis hums, his robot pocketing his fallen lightsabre where he'd dropped it to help Quinlan.

Yeah, thinks Quinlan. Definitely like Obi.

"Thank you." Tholme says quietly, and Quinlan does his best to straighten respectfully to mimic the sentiment. From the amused looks sent his way by both parties, he fails.

"It is no problem. Echoes are difficult to escape. He's lucky to have your patience on his side."

"Ah," says Master Tholme in a long-suffering fashion. "Now there are two of you."

Quinlan giggles, and Cal shows his first true difference to Obi Wan.

He laughs, the deep, throw your head back and giggle hysterically kind, grin wild and careless. Quinlan hopes that, if he and Obi get to be Knights together, that they laugh like Cal Kestis.