Hostile || Cal Kestis

05 | A Serendipitous Salvation

"even though we never said it to each other, we knew." – Unknown

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Trilla awoke violently. Her actions ripped him from his sleep and he instinctively looked towards the bed where she had been resting. The tubing from the machines taut as she stood hunched over, shaking violently on her feet.

He rose from his seat and rushed to her side before she could fall. He went to hold onto her forearm to steady her, but she wrenched it from his reach. The force of her withdrawal caused her to stumble on her already unsteady, weakened legs. He reached out once more, catching her before she fell. He was met with no resistance, she was too light-headed from her abrupt movement.

The beeping of the machines which had become frantic, started to calm down.

It took a moment for him to realize the intimacy in which he was holding her. He had one arm around her upper back and his hand grasping her shoulder, tubing entangling them both. He steadied her, and when she found the strength in her legs, she pulled herself from his grasp and held a hand against the wall to support her instead.

She blinked several times as her eyes searching the brightly-lit room and landing on the tubing that connected to her. Her confused expression turned vulnerable as she debated her next words.

"Cere?"

He struggled to mask the grief, managing to give the barest shake of his head before turning his head away. Trilla continued to watch him, her expression hardening into an emotionless mask.

"Where am I?"

It took a moment for him to compose himself enough to find a response. "A medical facility in Polis Massa. You're safe," he reassured.

"No." Her voice was laced with dread, her eyes flitting between his. "You've killed us all."

"What?" He asked perplexedly, shaking his head with a concerned expression. "No, we got away – "

"Still the naïve Padawan," she sneered weakly. "The Empire cannot be defeated. They will never stop hunting, not until the Jedi are all dead."

"I destroyed it. They'll never find them."

"You think it's over? That you and your friends are safe?"

"Are we?" He asked in a harsh tone, retaliating against her patronising one. "I wouldn't know. I wasn't with the Empire."

"The Empire believes me to be a traitor," she snarled lowly.

"Are you?"

Her eyes scrutinised him sharply, an unidentifiable emotion taking over her features. The question had hit her hard, as though it had taken her surprise. Something Cal thought he'd never see. And then she tore her eyes away.

It was barely a whisper, but he heard the tremor in her voice.

"I don't know."

There was a long silence.

"I think you do," he said softly.

Her eyes went back to his. "You don't know what you're talking about."

"I felt it. I felt you turn to the light on Nur."

Her brows furrowed in frustration. "No."

He stepped closer. "You said, "Avenge us". You were talking about the Jedi."

Her frustration furthered at his words, making her fluster with denial. "That – That's not true."

He was at arm's length. "Trilla. It's okay."

He reached a hand out towards her, and he watched as her eyes darted between his. Anger and frustration melted into confusion and anticipation.

"Why do you care?" She whispered.

"Because I care what happens to you."

The air between them tensed at his admission. Cal could see the depth of emotion she masked behind her green eyes, how they contrasted to the inky black of her hair and the dark outlines of her lips against her bronze skin.

He tore his eyes away from her and took a breath. His voice quieter as he repeated, "I care."

She moved forward, closing the gap between them as she pressed her lips to his. The action lasting less than a moment. And yet, it spanned several decades. Before he could comprehend what was happening or respond, she pulled away – taking all his sense with her.

He stared at her, overwhelmed with surprise. His heart thundered in his chest, her touch still lingering on him. He didn't think that she would feel for him as he did her, didn't even think it would be a possibility. Trilla Suduri, who had once wanted nothing more than to kill him, kissed him. It was beyond surprising, but he knew one thing for certain, he wanted to do it again.

They both moved towards each other, her lips pressed to his again. A sense of euphoria overcame his returned senses. He wound an arm around her waist, pulling her closer to him as she snaked her hands up his chest before they tangled themselves into his auburn hair. It was insatiable and fast-paced. Their desperate yearning exploding into a sense of liberation and consolation they had somehow found in each other.

When the kissed slowed she placed a hand on his chest, gently breaking away from him. He looked down at her with an uneven breath, euphoria shifted into apprehension. Did she regret it? He certainly didn't. But before he could ask, she slipped from his grasp. Her trepidation masked with indifference as she turned, walking away from him.

"Wait," he pleaded. Her steps slowed but she didn't stop. "Trilla wait. Let's talk about this."

He tried to follow her but as he turned into the exit of the door, she was already gone. Left alone with his churning emotions and the taste of her lips.