(Guess who's back to the Rebels writing world! Had a lull in inspiration but I'm back and I'm here to cause pain with the help of the amazing RadicalCat. COVER IMAGE is by gimyohan on Tumblr, who was kind enough to give me permission to use their art. If you wish to use it, please ask them first.)

Caleb did it again.

He rubbed the short, blunt eby dges of his hair where the braid had been. It was becoming a habit almost as bad as his previous one of combing his hand through his hair.

Master, Padawan, and the Force. He recited the mantra in his head. The three strands, brought together, now cut away. He supposed it made poetic sense. He had never felt more disjointed, cut off from his Master, the Temple and his past.

Cut off from his connection to the Force. Ever since he had vowed to no longer rely on the sense, he had felt his awareness weakening each day. It had taken a long time to retrain his thoughts not to unconsciously reach for the incorporeal sense, but he had done it. Nowadays, his spine barley tingled, and he was starting to suspect the Force itself was no longer trying to reach out to him, knowing he had shut down his senses and no longer relied on it.

The less it told him, the more comfortable he became with his blaster and the easier it was to ignore the space where his lightsaber had once been.

It was for the best. If it was cut off, he couldn't think about it, couldn't be recognized, couldn't-

He supposed he wasn't very good about not thinking about it. Thinking lead to questions, and questions were something he asked too many of. A habit he was trying to curb.

The Kasmiri landed with a thud and the hissing of stabilizers. Janus lowered the ramp and lifted his long arms to stretch as he came to his feet.

"You never told me why we were coming here."

They'd come to Ryloth, of all places.

It had only been a few months since he had last been here, but it felt light years; lifetimes, away.

It was also one of the places on the list of "Where Would Caleb Go". The clones had escorted Caleb on his last visit, they'd know about his friendly connections here. Would the Clones expect him to stay away from the Twi'lek home world, knowing what they did? Or would they expect Caleb to come here, seeking asylum?

Taking a job on Ryloth was a gamble, one Caleb could not lose.

One of these days, he knew he wouldn't be lucky enough to cash in.

The sight of the Imperial ships that banked the surface of the orange planet had already put him on edge. Star Destroyers, familiar triangular shapes that had once been a proud and glorious sight, now cast long shadows on the planet and the Kasmiri even in the dark expanse of space. But still Janus would only answer his demands with snarky remarks.

"I'm dropping you off, Kid. Your stalkers have been too much trouble." Janus stood, heading down to the cargo bay.

Caleb frowned and shoved his thumbs through his belt loops. It was impossible to tell if the Kalleran man was joking. Caleb supposed it was inevitable that he dumped him at some point, but it was unlikely Janus would give him any warning if he was planning to do so.

"Kidding, Kid. Relax!"

'Kid' seemed to have become his new name, much to his chagrin. But, it was better than anything else Janus had called him yet, and still better than anything Caleb could come up with. How were you supposed to pick a new name for yourself? Caleb had just always been... Caleb. The idea of a new identity was painfully necessary, but he was still at a loss of how to go about starting it.

Kasmir huffed something between a laugh and a sigh, patting him on the back a little too hard with a three-fingered hand as they walked down to the cargo bay. "We're delivering some goods in exchange for Spice."

Caleb narrowed his eyes. "Spice? What do we need that for? I don't think I'm in the mood for Giggledust."

Janus huffed and activated the antigrav on a droid pod. "No one who takes Giggledust is ever in a good mood. That's why they take it, Kid. But they sure do pay well for it."

Caleb rolled his eyes and steered his own pod along after the Kalleran.

As his boots hit the dry earth, Caleb paused to breathe in the pleasant, warm air. The distinct smell of dust with a twinge of salt carried through the air. It was cooler than it had been last time, the perfect temperature without stifling Jedi robes.

Janus had parked the Kasmiri in a blaster scorched valley, having been cleared of all evidence of the battle that had raged only months before. But the memories, like the burns on the ground, had yet to be worn away.

A familiar cluttered town looked over them. The city scape had changed a little since he'd last run through those streets.. Gone now was the frame of a large stone building on the edge of the wall, where he had sat outside and spoken like old friends with a Twi'lek girl… In its place, were the foundations for a new Imperial watch station. Only the skeleton of walls were up, but there was already a large sign hammered into the dry earth out front of it, emblazoned with a thick black Imperial mark, mockingly similar to the Republic's gear. There was a flash of white armor in the sun, and Caleb ducked back into the ship to retrieve his next load.

Caleb had gotten used to feeling watched, like a thousand unseen eyes hung over him, but this felt different. Every window of this street was shuttered, every door locked. But Caleb could see eyes peeking out between the slits of the shutters and caught sight of the curtains moving in the still air. He could hear anxious little whispers like fingers up his back as they shuffled along, steering their droids through the dusty streets. He shook off the feeling, pushing away the sense of anxiety he felt wafting off the streets. These weren't his feelings, and it wasn't his place to worry about things like that anymore.

But the unease in this part of town was still cause for concern. He knew what kind of imbeciles Janus kept in company. Just how much had Caleb gambled?

The silence was starting to wear on his patience. Caleb bit his lip, making sure his voice didn't crack when he spoke. "So where are we taking these droids?"

"To someone who has an excess of spice to trade for them." Janus said flippantly over his shoulder.

"And what are we going to with the spice?"

"Trade it. For more droids if need be." He said, but Caleb could hear the smirk just behind his features. He was planning something, and that was never a good sign.

"So we're trading droids for spice to trade for more droids?" Caleb snapped.

The Kalleran man arched his brow over one shoulder, grinning to one side. "Yes. That's how business is done Kid. Credits for Credits, a life for a life. Got a problem with it? Preach to the choir." Janus narrowed his eyes, obviously expecting a rebuttal.

Caleb frowned. He'd been tailing Janus for months now, and if one thing was clear, it was that Janus didn't do anything that didn't profit him in some way or another. And he rarely ever told the truth. Janus narrowed his smirk a little, and Caleb glared. He wouldn't be getting any straight answers out of him.

The houses were getting shabbier. The window shutters hung crooked, and the walls were beginning to crumble in places. Everything just looked…sadder. The houses weren't dilapidated, but the feeling of hopelessness was heavier than a woolen robe. Caleb blinked around him. He didn't remember the Ryloth of a few months ago like this.

The Twi'lek home planet had seen more war then a lot of other populated planets, but as long as you stayed away from the ruins of the battles with the separatists, Ryloth was just like any other planet in Outer Rim.

There were sections worse off the others, but he'd never seen it this close to a capital.

How did a few months change so much?

A thought occurred to Caleb.

"Hey, if your clients are so weighed down with spice, why don't they sell it straight up? They could get a lot more profit."

"They are selling it. To us." Janus replied, his tone thick. "And we're being paid well for the trouble, alright?"

"Then why are we in the poor sector?" Caleb realized too late how rude it sounded. It wasn't like Caleb had any money himself- everything he had was Janus'.

"Stop asking questions and push your weight, Kid. Or I might leave this place without you."

Caleb bit back his hot words and gripped the Handles of the pod tighter.

"Yeah," He said finally, making sure his tone was even. "you probably would."

And he doubled his speed, pushing his crates dutifully and silently just past the Kalleran man so he couldn't see his face.

He stared off into the morning horizon, quickly burning hotter into noon, and pretended the sun was the reason his eyes were burning. Janus didn't say another word, and Caleb resolved himself to do the same.

A creeper vine crept up the side of the building they had paused in front of, one that would be ornate if not covered in Ryloth dust and vines. The arched doorway was low and carved in intricate curlicues. Caleb ducked under it, steering his hover-crate after Janus, who tapped at his data pad and grumbled.

"You sure this is the place?" Caleb asked as he eyed the repeating diamond motif on the duracrete walls. They'd been walking for hours and Caleb wanted nothing more than to sit down- drop off the droids and be done with Ryloth before the clones came. He never used to mind walking for hours with Depa or their battalion, but now he felt burdened and tired. And hungrier.

"They gave me an address." Janus said firmly, but narrowed his eyes. "And this is it."

"Then... Where's your stack of spice?" Caleb asked, not really trying to keep the acid out of his tone.

"What did I say about questions, kid?"

Janus pulled out his blaster and Caleb followed his lead.

"I don't know. What did you say about reliable contacts again?"

Caleb swept his blaster around the room. There was no way this was the only room in the house- it was empty, the cabinets hung open on their hinges, sad and empty. There were no corridors leading off to other rooms. Caleb glanced down at the dusty floor. There was a rusted grate set in the stone at the very corner of the room.

Caleb gestured to it with his pistol and Kasmir nodded.

The grate lifted away from the stone without making a sound. Caleb peered down into the dark, making out flat stone at the bottom of a ladder bolted to the wall. It must have led somewhere. Somewhere worth hiding. Maybe wartime escape route, maybe something else now after the war. Or it could be a storage closet.

Janus growled low in his throat. "Leave the droids here. I don't want them to be stolen if this is a trick."

Caleb couldn't believe what Janus had said. "But you're willing to go down there if it is?"

Janus grinned, flashing sharp teeth. "Anything for the profit."

Caleb swallowed. Even without the Force for guidance, he had a bad feeling about this.

Janus's smile melted. "Hey, I'll be in front and you can tell me you told me so as I die."

Caleb scowled and let him lead the way down the ladder, trying not to feel like a Bantha led to the slaughterhouse.

The ladder was gritty under the palms of his hands, and groaned faintly with each boot step. He landed on his feet in the dimly lit cellar. The tunnel turned a corner and out of it there was a faint, warm glow like emergency lights on a ship.

They nodded gravely, hoisted their blasters, and crept down the hall silently.

Janus motioned for him to stop at a corner and he did, shifting nervously on his feet. He wanted to run back up that ladder and let Janus deal with the disaster he could feel creeping in the corners; but he didn't. Partly because he gave him food and shelter, but also, Caleb hated to admit, because he had become loyal to him.

Janus turned the corner and Caleb scratched his neck nervously. Come back. He thought.

Not again.

"Who are you?" He heard a somewhat familiar and accented male voice call.

"We have your merchandise." Janus called out in a friendly tone.

There was low murmuring he didn't catch, but no one opened fire- yet. Whoever it was clearly had the number advantage if they did.

"We?" the male voice asked.

Caleb clenched his jaw and turned the corner, keeping a firm hand on his blaster. He lowered his face, wishing he could let his hair fall in front of it.

"Caleb?" A high, tinny voice asked.

Blast it, he knew that voice, it was seared into his mind, familiar and unwelcome as the name she called him.

A smaller shape moved out from the darkness, stepping into the light. He'd know that voice, and the matching pastel green face, anywhere.

Hera blinked owlishly at him, taking him in from head to feet and opening and closing her mouth.

"I thought you were dead!" she whispered.

Caleb had no answer, because as far as he was concerned- Caleb Dume was dead. He was a drifter between the worlds now.

Hera moved forward, and Janus leapt away in alarm as the Twi'lek threw her arms around the boy and began to laugh.

And as much as Caleb wanted to, he didn't let himself hug her back.