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The first thing that Cal did after Cere gave him a tour of the Mantis was hit the fresher.
Truly, all he wanted was to collapse on the little cot in the engine room and never get up, but Cal couldn’t deny that he was utterly filthy. He was covered in grease from a full day of scrapping on Bracca, plus the sweat from outrunning the Empire - not to mention the black mud caked on his clothes and exposed skin. Despite it all, he felt, somehow, better than he looked.
Cere had told him there was a spare change of clothes for him in one of the drawers under the sink, and when he looked, they were there. Like they had waited for his arrival. He tried not to think too hard about the fact that nobody had been waiting for him to come home for the last four years.
So, Cal focused on removing each layer of clothing, one by one. His gloves and poncho were first; left hung up against the shower door so he could spray the muck off of the garments and let them drip dry. Next was unbuckling his chestplate and peeling off his shirt. He winced at the loud thwack the muddy fabric made against the floor plating. As he leaned against the wall to pull off his boots, Cal caught a glimpse at himself in the mirror.
He had been unhappy and never quite felt clean on Bracca, but he never truly wrapped his mind around the shape of his body. As a padawan, Cal had been well nourished and well rested, given the perfect environment to grow up, but now…
Now, Cal saw the true extent of his time spent scrapping. He could see the faint outline of his ribs, and whatever muscle he might have built wasn’t especially present. His torso was covered in bruises just beginning to form, an array of purples and yellows dotting his pale skin. That was the other thing- being a scrapper on Bracca meant covering up to avoid cuts, weather, chemicals, and stray wires, so his already fair skin looked ghostly white. The freckles that were once strewn across Cal’s body like the stars now lay faded and distant, as if threatening to fall off or fade away completely. Another symbol of a life long lost.
I look like shit, he thought to himself. He traced two fingers along the red blaster scar that ran over his cheek and neck.
Cal closed his eyes and took a deep breath, letting his hand drop back at his side.
In.
Hold.
Out.
When he opened his eyes again, he turned away from the mirror and finished undressing, frowning at the mess he’d made from his clothing.
Stepping under the showerhead, Cal fiddled with the knobs until water came pouring out (thankfully, it wasn’t scalding or freezing). He turned up the heat a bit, just to see if he could, and he had to bite back a groan of pleasure when hot water splattered his face and body. Cal didn’t even want to think about how long it had been since he last had a hot shower, let alone a truly private one.
You’re safe here , Cere had told him, and now, Cal was starting to believe it. He didn’t have to run anymore. The more he thought about it, the more Cal’s legs started to shake. With Prauf gone, he really had no one left. Cal felt so alone, so afraid. He didn’t trust or know Cere or Greez yet, but the Force provided him no indication that they would betray him or harm him.
Before he really realized what was happening, a small sob escaped Cal’s lips. I’m safe here. He felt the telltale prick of tears at the corners of his eyes, though everything was washed away by the stream of water from the showerhead. The water looked less filthy now as it circled the drain, but Cal couldn’t tell through the flood in his eyes and senses. Another sob racked his body; Cal reached behind him to lean against the wall before sliding down to the floor and clutching his boney knees to his chest. Sob after sob echoed around the tiny room, barely drowned by the sound of rushing water.
Cal couldn’t really pinpoint why he was crying, if it was out of joy, relief, sorrow, or something else. But he couldn’t hold it back anymore, so he let it happen. Cal cried, and cried, and cried.
When his uneven sobs turned to slight sniffles, Cal pushed himself up from the floor and started to clean himself off with a bottle of body wash that sat in one of the corners. He didn’t think about grabbing a cloth before showering, and couldn’t find the motivation to leave the hot shower, so he rubbed suds over his body with his hands as best he could while he continued to cry softly. He began to release his feelings back into the Force as the weight and dirt from the day - from the life on Bracca - swirled down the drain. When the water turned cold, Cal turned the shower knobs until the water stopped and stood silently for a moment, listening to the faint plink, plink of water droplets falling to the floor.
Cal found a towel in a miscellaneous drawer after stepping out into the fresher, towelling himself off slowly and gently before dressing himself in the spare clothes he’d found earlier. They weren’t a perfect fit, but they were comfortable and dry, and worlds better than the muddy mess of clothes on the floor beside him. Cal decided to come back for them after he’d eaten something. He felt refreshed yet drained, and food seemed like something that could help.
Before turning to leave, Cal looked at himself in the mirror. He brushed his coppery hair back with his fingers, pushing it around so that it wouldn’t fall in his face while it dried. He dared to look himself in the eyes. The face staring back at him was still so unfamiliar, even after all these years, but Cal managed to smile at his reflection meekly.
Yeah, he thought to himself, I’ll be alright.