Hostile || Cal Kestis

04 | A Persistent Affliction

"how strange to dream of you even when i am wide awake." – D.T.

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Cal almost jumped at how her hand clamped onto his. Her cold fingers desperately clinging onto his warm ones, her face contorting as she let out a scream of excruciating pain. The sound of it cut through the air, pulling him from a daze. The beeping of the machines around her in a frenzy.

"Trilla?" He asked, shooting forward from his seat, frantic as he placed his free hand on her face. Her eyes were still squeezed shut.

Merrin entered the room and looked towards Cal with widened eyes. He pulled his eyes from Trilla and looked over to her, his voice sharpened by panic.

"Get Ostara."

She nodded simply, disregarding his tone and left in search of the physician.

He turned back to the woman lying on the bed. "Trilla." His voice was caught between soothing her and drowning in concern. Her screaming continued and he tried again. "Trilla I'm, I'm going to help okay?"

He knew the capabilities of the Force. One of them being able to control pain, it took Jedi years of practice to fully master – not to mention the amount of meditation. But he had to try.

Fear and uncertainty danced around him as he shut his eyes. Reaching out to the Force, searching for the Light within the small confined room. He could feel its strength, the hum of its power. He struggled, pushing aside his own emotions and accepting peace but, he had to do something.

"Self-Discipline. Without this, inner peace, harmony, and serenity cannot be reached. And why is this important, Padawan?" Tapal asked.

Young Cal was eager to answer. "They're core principles of the Jedi Code."

"Good. Now close your eyes. Reach out and find the balance of the Force."

A peace overcame him, his surroundings washed in light and her screams fading into a simple buzz as he reached into the source of her pain. He could feel it, phantoms of agonising waves of pain stretching across his own back – as though he was wearing her wound. He gritted his teeth, willing the Force to numb it.

He heard a hum of voices. A sweat broke out through his forehead from his concentration and it felt like an hour had passed before her pain had dulled.

Her screams had faded into a whimper, and then silence.

He opened his eyes, seeing Ostara checking over Trilla with two droids accompanying her. Merrin stood back, her eyes on his hand that held onto Trilla. He removed his hand from her face, unsure what had possessed him to do that.

Trilla wouldn't want him to touch her, let alone touch her like he cared for her. He did care, he thought. Enough to save her and to comfort her pain, but not like that. His gaze fell to her hand that was on his, it no longer held him in her unyielding grip, but it was still holding on.

"Cal," she breathed inaudibly.

His eyes snapped towards her. He hesitated to respond, unsure if she had spoken.

"Cal?" She whimpered again.

An overwhelming emotion overcame him at the sound of her desperate plea.

"I'm here Trilla," he affirmed. Lightly squeezing her hand, to reassure her.

He could see the trails of tears drying on her face. It felt like a breach of privacy to see her in this state, like she had broken through her mask and unwillingly shown him this vulnerability.