Because I've uploaded 5 chapters of this onto A03, I decided I would try my hand here. I guess we'll see how this goes.

First 5 updates weekly. Next...well, I guess we'll just have to see.

Also! Went looking for a Jaro Tapal tag but there was NOTHING! He is a major part of this story! better get his tag up real soon. :/

I'd just like to say that this story will incorporate elements of Star Wars: The Clone Wars, Jedi: Fallen Order (of course), and lots of original content. Plus some canon divergence. Oh, who am i kidding, this is a time travel fix it. It's gonna be huge canon divergence in later chapters. This will be a bumpy ride. As long as we stay on the roller-coaster, we'll be 'right.

IMPORTANT! This has MAJOR SPOILERS FOR JEDI: FALLEN ORDER. Be prepared for the angst that comes with it.

Finally, I will leave all you people awesome enough to read this author's note alone.

Enjoy!

(I Need More) Time

Full Summary:

"There's no time. There's never any time. He wishes they had more time. To save everyone. To say what was left unsaid. To change their cruel fate."

Cal wishes they had more time. The Force responds.

Now stuck in the past, Cal can change everything. They don't have to be struck down by a Sith Lord on their own crashing ship. Jaro Tapal can survive Order 66. Trilla can be saved. Prauf doesn't have to die.

The Force has given him a gift. No way is Cal wasting it. But with a new, startling connection tethering him to his killer, Cal realises what he wants to achieve may not be so easy…

Chapter 1:

A loud, piercing screech fills the air as soon as Cal awakens, so sudden he must block his ears. It sounds like a mix between a combusting engine and a dying droid. Yet, the sound morphs into the yells of children and an alarm blaring so harsh his head aches. Splits. Shatters into thousands of tiny, insignificant pieces of what is and what was.

Metal fills his mouth, rushes up his throat, and Cal finds himself choking on it as the two diverging sounds merge and bend and tear themselves apart. It is so loud Cal can feel a thick substance trickling down his ears and nose, all his entry points bleeding as his brain attempts to combust.

In both times, where children are crying and a droid is dying – his droid, it's his, but he can't be, BD-1 can't- – Cal is curled up on the floor. They're both cool surfaces, both the metal of a spaceship, both shuddering under the surface. One from a shot engine, the other from thumping footsteps.

More screams and demands from both times leaves Cal seeing black, then white, then scattered dots that make more than blood clog his throat.

Cal retches, spilling more gunk over the floor. A kid cries in disgust; Merrin demands Cal to answer.

"I'm sorry, Cal, I'm so sorry…" The Nightsister's thick Dathomirian accent is a whisper amongst the yells; Cal finally centres himself in the present.

The Force whimpers around him, mourning the loss of the Mantis crew. Through it, Cal can sense Greez's body slumped in his cockpit chair, shot in the chest, and Cere, lying in the doorway of the Mantis, a red lightsaber tearing itself from her body. The blood staining Greez's couch and the metal sticking out of it. How the cracks on Greez's kitchen bench resemble spider webs. That the plants in the terrarium he lies against are all squished or damaged from Cal's ungraceful impact. How the ship groans and shudders underneath him, moaning after the crash landing rendered her unfit to fly.

Heavy breathing envelops the room, leaving a sense of dread and doom. Cal can barely open his eyes, leaving only a small crack of Merrin's bloody, tear-stained face to enter his view. "Merr-in…" A whisper is all he can manage, thick with all the emotion he doesn't have time to say.

He tries to move, but he only manages a twitch of a single finger. Anything he tried would've been fruitless, anyway; he can't feel his legs.

With a choked whimper, Cal watches the Nightsister tear herself from his side and launch a quick spell at the Sith Lord. Moments later, she files past him, slamming into the kitchen wall with a resounding crack.

He can feel BD-1 lying beside him, sparking and non-responsive – much like the Force within Merrin. The hole in his heart bleeds heavier, screaming at the loss of his best friends, master, pilot, and regretful for everything he couldn't say to Merrin.

There's no time. There's never any time. He wishes they had more time. To save everyone. To say what was left unsaid. To change their cruel fate.

The Force responds, so fast Darth Vader has no change to counterattack, and Cal loses his grip on the present.

His head aches so loud it feels like it's splitting in two. Yet, the background noise is not nearly as confronting and painful as before. In fact, all the shouts and screams have become whispers and quiet discussion.

A sharp inhale fills his undamaged lungs. Before, everything was broken – his bones, organs, muscles; everything. Darth Vader made sure to knock him off the rocker…allowing him to kill everyone else abord the Mantis.

Trying to remember how he got on the Mantis is like hitting a brick wall – maybe the overwhelming noises did fry a part of his short-term memory. Nonetheless, not remembering that sets his heart on fire, along with the knowledge that he's breathing but he just died. What the fuck?

"Cal? Can you hear me?" A voice that still haunts his dreams asks, lightly touching his arm with his large hand.

Lying on his side, still curled in a ball, Cal opens his eyes to slits. Despite their limited vision, it gives him what he needs to see. Pink skin, bright green eyes, Jedi Master robes. Which are bloody.

He frowns, because he's never seen his Master appear bloody before. Sometimes he's completely fine, sometimes he's got holes where his lungs should be. Sometimes there's Cal's lightsaber sticking through his stomach. Though that thought makes bile rise up his throat, he swallows it back down with steely determination. No, there's never been blood before. And he hasn't asked a question that's full of worry, either.

Something's different. Something's…wrong.

"M-master?" Cal tries to focus on the Jedi Master's green eyes, but his head pulses with a vengeance. Closing his eyes for a long moment, he continues, "w-what…?"

Jaro Tapal hushes him, squeezing his too small arm. "Save your strength, my Padawan. You've just had a fit." When his green orbs skim over his face, Cal gets the feeling it was more than just a fit. His Master looks up as hurried footsteps echo through the ship, making Cal grimace. "He's responsive."

For a long moment, Cal thinks he's talking to him. Then there's two medics leaning over him, one checking his pulse, the other with a stim full of blue liquid.

The hand is cold on his neck.

"Are you still hurting anywhere?" The medic checking his vitals asks, typing away at her datapad every few seconds.

Her typing is loud; Cal makes an embarrassing noise that's between a groan and gurgle. "M-my he-ad."

Nodding, she informs him they'll move him onto his back. Looking at his Master, he realises there must be some expression on his face because Jaro Tapal squeezes his arm once more before retreating from his sight.

Then, after getting into position, they move him onto his back.

Just that small movement sends sparks exploding across his vision and all sound is rendered null in his ears. It's like his wounds from the battle aboard the Mantis are still haunting him, despite knowing there are no wounds on this body. In this dream. Because this must be a dream, right? Jaro Tapal is dead. But there's medics about to inject him with that blue liquid, whatever it is, and when he wishes to lift his right hand, it responds in turn.

When he relived Order 66, Cal couldn't control his body. Now, though…now he can. Moreover, this 'fit' never happened when Cal was a Padawan.

A small pinprick in his arm fills his blood with the stim. Its effect is instantaneous.

Sleep beckons. Before he answers, Cal recognises he doesn't feel drugs in his dreams, either.

He closes his eyes with a sigh.

Trust-

Floating in the Force, Cal relaxes.

Only-

Suddenly, it ripples in disturbance, inciting him to look towards the commotion.

In-

The storm is completely black, a stark contrast to his blue surroundings.

The-

Within the angry clouds is a patch of white, only revealed when the storm clouds part.

Force.

And on that white stands a man cloaked in black, breathing heavily – the only Sith Cal could never beat.

A continuous beeping wakes him with a small jerk. "BD-1?" He whispers, looking around the dark room, but finds a monitor beside his bed making the noise, the only light in this room.

Then he remembers the Mantis. Everyone dying. Waking to his dead Master worrying over him.

It tugs on his heartstrings, the Force responding to his grief and regret, and all he wishes to do is scream and cry for those he's lost. After all, Cal's not dead yet. Maybe he was just hallucinating the Jedi Master…

Cal's just about convinced himself when he spots Tapal sitting in a chair by his bedside, watching him where the light of the monitor doesn't shine. The sight of his master swathed in shadows makes him startle, reminded of the lesson he learnt in Dathomir and the damaging words that felt too much like lightsabers digging into his gut. Reaching for his lightsaber is automatic, but fruitless, for his weapon isn't there.

There's a curious look in his green eyes, but he doesn't ask the obvious question, as if sensing his aversion towards the topic. "How are you feeling?"

Sitting up slowly, Cal leans against the wall. "Much…better." He frowns; before, he didn't have the capacity to take much in, but now…

His voice is high, as it was when he was a Padawan.

Holy-

Cal touches his face, then his forehead when he sees his Master looking. "Does your head still hurt?"

"No, it's fine now. I just…" Cal struggles to keep still, brushing his hand through his longer hair, identifying the iconic Padawan's braid. When a person sleeps in a dream, they're supposed to wake up. But he's still here, damnit. "I can't remember what happened."

He really doesn't. When Darth Vader impaled him and threw him into the terrarium, everything slipped sideways. Time bent. Split in two, like his brain. Shoved him down two paths and told him to choose.

And when he chose the present, when he chose wrong…

The Force helped him chose right.

"You…you collapsed during recess." His Master reports, leaning forward with a grim look. "Fortunately, there were other Padawan there who quickly reported it." A heavy sigh escapes his lips when he sees this doesn't satisfy Cal. "When I arrived, you were screaming." He looks down, hiding his face in the dark. "You were bleeding from your nose, ears, and eyes. It was…"

Cal knows that face. Knows how he feels. Knows what he's about to say. "I'm sorry for causing you worry, Master." Bowing his head, he tries to bury the panic thrumming in his chest. "But I'm okay now, see?" For this, he looks up, holding his hands up and wiggling his fingers. They're a bit smaller than his older self's; the thought leaves his gut clenching.

A small smile graces Jaro Tapal's face for only a moment before he's standing tall. "We'll see, Padawan. Now get some rest. If you're not well enough, you won't be eligible for the trip to Illum next week."

His Master leaves the room without looking back.

Illum. The trip to Illum? I was ten when I got my lightsaber. Cal runs a hand through his hair, wrapping his tiny braid around his fingers. But that means I'm really in the past. It's impossible, but…

There's time, now. The Force heard his wish and gave him a chance. He can save everyone, now. With his knowledge of the future, he can make sure some things don't happen. Sure, Cal probably won't be able to stop Order 66, but he can certainly warn people. Including his Master.

And if they land on Bracca afterwards, there's at least one person there he knows that supports him. This time, he will save Prauf. Because his kind friend helped him stand on his own two feet after the horrors of Order 66. When he was at his lowest, Prauf aided him, and for Cal to repay him with death…

No. Prauf won't be dying this time. Neither will his Master. Or Greez, Cere, BD-1, and Merrin. He'll try with Trilla, too, because she believed in them, in the end.

Cal lays himself back down, feeling his eyelids start to droop. Whatever the Force did to get him here surely knocked his body out of whack. It might take a couple days to recover.

Well, whatever happens, I'll be ready.

A hundred thousand miles away in Naboo, lying in bed with his secret wife, a certain Jedi General awakens with a gasp…and with knowledge he shouldn't have.