[ There's something deeply comforting about hearing Obi-Wan say he felt the same way. Feeling the ache of his loss, so incredibly similar to his own, flow through the Force between them. It makes Cal feel less alone, less damaged.

And then there's something deeply affecting about Obi-Wan saying that Master Tapal would be proud of him, because he'll never actually hear the words from his Master himself. And it haunted him for so long, what his Master would think of his Padawan now, with all his mistakes and shortcomings and doubts.

But he felt it, during his last vision of Master Tapal. The warmth in him, through the Force, there in his Master's final lesson to him. Was there pride too?

Cal bows his head, emotion lodged in his throat. He's quiet for a moment, breathing in and out with intent, letting his feelings flow through him and out into the Force. ]

That's what I want to do. Make him proud. [ Even if he doesn't feel very strong or brave. Even if he doesn't really know how now that the holocron is destroyed. ]

I just wish he was still here. To teach me, to show me what to do. [ He'd felt so lost—still does, in many ways. Then he smiles ruefully, short-lived. ] That doesn't go away, does it?