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Cal knows he takes his life into his hands every time he jumps. Great crevasses and dizzying heights fly by beneath him, the Force like wings as he crosses from one side to another or runs along a wall, almost defying gravity. But he's strong, he's confident, he trusts that mystical energy field and his control over it to carry him through, and it always does.
Until one day it doesn't. He's returned to Bogano, something unfinished calling, and as he makes to leap from one seemingly-floating platform to another, his foot slips. A simple miscalculation, easily corrected, except he misjudges the correction too. Maybe he's tired, maybe he's distracted. In the end, it doesn't matter.
He flails for the edge of the platform, which flies by just past his fingertips. BD-1 squeals and slides from his back, and then Cal is falling.
He falls and falls, walls of dirt and rock rocketing past on either side. He clutches for them desperately with Force and fingers, but nothing holds. He's too panicked. Clods of dirt rain around him, and his body rebounds painfully between the walls.
He tries to orient himself, hands beneath him, and draw a cloud of Force to slow or even arrest his fall. He can feel the energy binding the universe together at the tips of his perceptions, but it evades him as wind whistles past his ears and fear bites at his mind.
Focus, Cal demands of himself, squeezing his eyes closed and trying to block out everything.
But it's too late. He slams into the ground back first, and the impact is more jarring, more painful, than anything he's ever felt. He feels bones break, an involuntary scream tearing itself from his throat and echoing crazily along the chasm. Consciousness wavers, darkness crowding in on the edges of his vision, and Cal fights it back. He knows if lets himself pass out now, he's done for.
High above him come BD-1's frantic beeps, and Cal draws together just enough thought to realize what's happened. The droid is still up above. He must have fallen from Cal's back with enough time to grip onto the ledge and save himself. Cal is grateful.
He peers upward but can see nothing but the jagged edges of the cliffs high above, a strip of calm blue sky and wispy clouds between them.
BD-1 beeps again, sharp, loud. The Binary words lose distinction as they echo down to him, and Cal can't understand what he's saying. The fear and concern is clear though.
The Jedi's first instinct is to reassure his friend. He opens his mouth – and cries out again as the effort of trying to speak sends spasms of pain shooting through his body. It isn't just the breaks he could already feel. The damage is... He reaches out tentatively with the Force, and immediately recoils. It's a lot. More than he could ever hope to heal on his own.
More than even bacta could heal maybe, not that there's a substantial enough amount of that anywhere nearby.
Cal's eyes flutter closed, and even that hurts. This is it then. He screwed up, made one simple mistake, and now he's going to die at the bottom of a canyon on Bogano. After everything he's survived – the Clone Wars, Order 66, his run-ins with Trilla and the other Inquisitors – this is where his life ends. This is where the mission to restore the Jedi Order ends.
Master Tapal would be so disappointed. Cere will be too. He wonders if she'll find someone to replace him. He hopes she does. This mission is important; it shouldn't die with him. Prauf's face flashes through his mind, and he feels tears pricking as he thinks of his friend. Prauf gave his life for him, and Cal has done nothing with it but let him down.
There's a scrabbling sound nearby and Cal's instinct is to reach for his lightsaber, to defend himself from whatever creature has come to him now for an easy meal, but he can't move. Numbness is spreading through him at an alarming rate. He can barely manage to roll his head to the side and try to make bleary eyes focus.
The shape coming toward him isn't an animal at all.
A dopey smile oozes across Cal's face. “Beedee,” he slurs, reaching out.
Or trying to. His fingers twitch, maybe, but that's all.
The droid has somehow found a safe way down and he's running toward Cal. He slows when he's almost reached him, inching forward the rest of the way with a mournful whistle.
“No, buddy,” Cal rasps. His head is still too muddy to fully translate, but he can grasp the gist of what his friend is saying. “It's not good.”
BD-1 whines softly.
“I can't get up, Beedee,” Cal answers. The numbness is creeping into his chest now, making it harder to talk.
He winces as the droid's scanner clicks on and runs over his body. BD-1's sounds grow more frantic as he takes in the data, his squawks near panic by the time he's finished.
“No!” Cal cries as the droid raises up and takes a step back. The sudden cry has him coughing, the pain the motion brings jerking through his body and making him instinctively curl up on himself – except he can't actually move. “Don't leave me,” he manages, feeling blood on his lips.
BD-1 whimpers and comes closer, nudging against Cal. His stim dispenser slides open, and he prods one into Cal's hand.
Cal couldn't close his fingers around it if he wanted to, much less apply it. “Not gonna help this time, buddy,” he murmurs.
BD-1 hesitates, then mournfully shuts the dispenser again. He leans against Cal and beeps softly.
“Just stay with me,” Cal answers, and he wishes he could move his arms, could pull the droid closer and cling tighter to the comfort of his presence. “When-” He stutters, reaches out to the Force to steady himself, knowing he'll be a part of it forever soon. “Later,” he manages, so quietly he hopes BD-1 can still hear him. “Go back to Cere and Greez. Tell them...”
Tell them I'm sorry. Tell them to keep going. Tell them I failed, but they haven't. Tell them-
BD-1 lays his head against Cal's and hums quietly, the Binary words like a whisper in his ear. I'll tell them you were brave. I'll tell them how hard you tried. I'll tell them how much you love them and want to keep going. I won't let them forget you. I'll never forget you.
Tears blur Cal's vision. He hadn't realized how much he needed to hear those things, especially now. He hadn't realized he's afraid, after everything, of being forgotten. Of not having mattered.
He tries to say thank you one more time, but then it's too late.