He has no words, but he can listen. And when Merrin turns her hand to grasp his, he holds hers obligingly. Given what he knows of Dooku and Grievous, they weren't people to be taken lightly. It still hurts all the same to know that they had also had a hand in something so heinous.

There was no reason that such knowledge would bring anyone peace. Cal can't blame her for that, although at the same time he wishes it weren't so. When her hand tightens, he squeezes it back a little more in turn. He can sense her anguish, the hopelessness. It's a space he knows well, when you don't know what to do and it just seems like you're left to drown in everything and nothing.

He pulls at her with that hand, pulling her towards him to wrap his arm, and maybe the other around her if she relinquishes her grip, a firm embrace. "...they left a void that you filled with a desire for vengeance," he says, his voice just above a whisper at her ear. "You just need to find something bigger, something better to fill that in. But that's something only you can choose."

Merrin hasn't given up all this time. He doesn't think she will, even now, but it's a rare thing to see her so vulnerable, so open. He wants to protect that, to let her know that whatever choice she makes next, she doesn't have to do so alone.

"Your sisters still have their revenge. You've survived. Dooku and Grievous are gone. You can continue to honor them just by moving forward."