Caloka Oneshots

Wicked are the Past

Ahsoka jolted awake to a series of rapid, undulating force waves, the knowledge of this phenomenon discarding her desires for sleep. So, she dashed. She raced to track the source, moving like a shadow in the halls before barging into a finely spruced quarter, cautiously closing the door behind as she did.

She then peered at the source, and doubled her steps in an anxious, albeit elegant manner, for she was aware that the prolonging of these violent waves would eventually provoke a tsunami of emotions, whereupon the fleet known as the Empire would be alerted to its presence.

Now resting affront the side of his bed, Ahsoka was slightly perturbed to view his savagely squirming stature of a silhouette amidst the bleak setting, its violence unparallel to the incidents prior. Nonetheless, she acted swiftly.

Laying a hand onto his shoulder, she muttered, in a barely perceptible but ample tone, "Caleb, wake up."

Then on cue, he sprang from his dream, instinctively clutching her orange wrist, before hopping upright to glance into her ocean orbs, his own filled with dread and an unwavering grief. Though restraining, he shoved away the water from his eyes, gazing downwards to conceal his paralysed demeanour.

To his chagrin, the Togruta merely lifted his chin with a folded index, embracing his form simultaneously, only to notice the atrocious quavering of his entirety. Deep down, his thoughts bubbled with unhindered regret and fear; he was panicking without a will to cease such emotional assaults – a trait that Ahsoka perceived easily since the month prior when she had recruited Caleb into the rebellion.

"Another one?" Ahsoka started gently, assiduous with her words.

Though she had an inkling that the Padawan would spurn her sympathy, she still attempted her best to comfort by patting his back, freeing up a spot atop her chest where Caleb could cry if he so deemed.

"Yeah." He uttered, his voice trembling, "Another one."

Ahsoka planned her response, but was interrupted.

"Please don't tell me to sleep. That's what all the others do." Caleb continued, still silently resisting her embrace, despite easing into her touch.

"Okay. Well then, why don't we start with what happened." She retained her soothing tone, managing a much-needed smile.

Caleb shook his head in response, widening the gap between them.

"Caleb." She consoled, "It's perfectly alright to depend on people. The Jedi may teach us to neglect feelings, but the greater courage is knowing when to share them."

Sighing, he reluctantly re-positioned himself into her clutch, allowing her to fondle with his hair in one hand, whilst the other would perch his backbone.

"I...I was..." He whimpered, simply stopping upon realizing his current aversion for words, though she provided time.

"Shhhhh..." She cooed, tracing her thumb across his neck, "Take your time."

After a perennial pause, bathing betwixt the blanket that was her hands, he finally mounted the confidence to express, "I was running away. Far away. I ran from Kaller, to Hoth, to every other planet just to hide from the truth...that I was a coward."

He inhaled, "Then everything went dark. And I could hear the voices that made me relive the minutes of her death."

Sighing again, he continued, "The next scene was me visiting her grave. I knelt, mourning, then it was all silent. For a very long time, it was just silent. And and...and then...and then a half-eaten skeleton climbed from the ground, and it...it tackled me onto the ground, screeching to ask why I had abandoned her, that I was a failed apprentice and...and a coward. Then I woke before she strangled me to death."

He stammered, silently sobbing, "But she was right, I was a coward. Maybe...maybe she should have killed me in that nightmare."

"Caleb." She cooed, tightening the embrace, "Your master knew the risks of Order 66. She was aware like any other that the Jedi Order was at stake, and she did what she had to do, for the belief, for the religion that she had devoted her life to. She knew that through you, the heritage of that religion would preserve. Depa needed you to survive, to act as a beacon of hope against the Empire. You were the spark that she needed to light, because she knew more than anyone else, how important you are, and how great of a purpose you would serve."

"Mmm..." He whimpered, fighting the forming tears fringing from his eyes, where he stretched his scalp to the right to shield his spineless emotions.

"Caleb." Ahsoka invited, still brushing his hair, pampering.

"No."

"Caleb." She spurred.

"Don't do it. Please Ahsoka..." He stumbled, "You can't see me like this."

Breathing, she hushed in a soft, mellow voice, "Caleb. You can cry now."

Then, as though unlocking the chains to a reservoir door, a flurry of bitter emotions flooded his brain, manifesting by appearing in the physical form of tears, which began to rapidly escape from his eyes, drowning her robes as they did.

His sobs were seared into every miniscule movement of a breath he was coerced to expel, so he clenched gruesomely onto Ahsoka's backside – a force more formidable than a mountain of flames incessantly battering from the evening sky.

For minutes, he deemed only the affectionate warmth she bestowed, clinging onto this single soothing presence that never once parted, that never once resented him, never once hesitating to supply an obligatory shoulder where he could snuggle and secrete himself within. She grasped the entirety of his frame, folding her arms to squarely compact him in her intimate cocoon, then in a gentle, almost light-imbuing voice, she cooed to him.

"Shhhhh. Shhhhh, it's okay Caleb. You're safe now. No one will hurt you anymore." Ahsoka assured with a cordial smile, slowly sliding a thumb across his hair, then another to his cheeks to remove the excess of tears, then again to repeat the gesture.

Burying his head beneath her neck, he wept in anguish, his tears now rapidly descending from every corner of his eyes, despite a slight prickling of tension upon feeling the warmth of her maternal embrace, as he, too, returned the act. He coughed quivering tears onto her robes, to which she gradually brought his temple to her chest, allowing him to freely detect her steady, pulsating heartbeat that would hopefully ease his conscience.

In turn, he was provoked to purr from her tender touch, lightly whimpering, before cuddling even closer to her chest, silently scraping his scalp across the spot, and softening to receive her affection. As though an infant, upon satisfaction, he gradually narrowed his eyelids, shutting them to rest motionlessly atop her maternal figure, who merely clung onto him tighter like a personal prized possession, securing his body with hers to ensure his gaining of a wholesome access to the loving breeze that penetrated to slowly encircle them.

Ahsoka stayed until Caleb was asleep, where she subtly laid him onto the bunk. Though as the Togruta turned to depart, a grasp came for her wrist, before he dearly, retiringly deemed, "Can...can you stay? Please?"

Awestruck, she contemplated, then murmured back, "I'll...grab my sheets and pillow from my quarters."

"Mine are big enough for both of us." He begged, "Please don't go."

With that, Ahsoka climbed to cuddle beside him, assuring, "I'm not going anywhere."

Hello folks, it's been quite a hot second since I've seen y'all, but I'm sad to report that I will be occupied for the period to come, for I'm not certain how long.

But let's return to the good news. As of right now, this book consists of clone wars adaptations, teenage romance, aggressive romance, friendship, sibling-hood, infancy, coming of age, fluff, and finally, an angst chapter. There are obviously further branches that can sprout from the same roots, so by all means, please comment if there are any requests, which I will be more than willing to accommodate.

As always, thank you so much for reading, I love you all, and remember:

The force will be with you