annexedlogs | The number one drama causer is at it again. He's not really sorry.

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The number one drama causer is at it again. He's not really sorry.

Who: Vader
What: Self-surgery, healing, dragging people into his mess
When: Early month, prior to the mini-missions
Where: A room in a rent-by-the-day building in the Magitech, Obi-Wan's hut, probably other places as things develop
Content Warnings: self-surgery, blood (lots of blood), to be updated as needed

Given the chip implanted into them was at the base of their skulls, what it did, and the experiences he had with implanted chips - both in his men and in himself - it probably shouldn't surprise anyone he decided to handle it himself.

Not that he hasn't taken done preparations. A field surgery kit, mirrors, some kind of healing gel and bandages, a tarp on the floor under a cheap chair, and furniture moved away. The room was paid for a couple of days. After thinking it over before he started, he sent a text message to Padmé and a message to Obi-Wan.

Then he washed his hands, the back of his head and his neck, and sat in the chair, prepared so the mirrors allowed him to see the back of his head and neck clearly, even when his hands were in the way. And started cutting. Peeling. The scar tissue was thick, tough, and hard to pull apart. But pull it apart he did, because he didn't want to cut nerves or large blood vessels - there wasn't a bacta tank here. It took time, to get down to muscle, to scrap it away from the implants in his spine without harming his implants or causing too much muscle damage (what he thought was too much anyway).

He didn't winch or flinch, only swore when a blade broke. Angerly threw the disposable ones across the room and set a blade into the reusable ones.

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There it is; the thing that sent her out here in a panic. The thing that makes her push herself harder and harder in the hopes of dreamless sleep. The thing that Luke Skywalker had seen in her the very first time she touched the Force.

"Luke Skywalker -- the older one -- knew me for approximately five minutes before he told me he was scared of me."

It's not his fault, not really. But it's a way into the things that scare her still.

"There's something wrong. With me. I see it in my dreams, and I--"

She takes a breath, feeling the chill from earlier wash back over her again. She digs her fingers into the wooden step beneath her, needing to hold onto something but afraid that if she reaches for Kylo she'll fall apart entirely again.

"-- I felt it in there, when I touched Vader. There's something. I guess it's the Dark side, I don't know. It's familiar, and it's always been there, waiting. I'm afraid of what I'll do if I let it out.

It's to Kylo's credit that he doesn't have anything to immediately say to that comment about Luke, though the thought of "Of course he did" is probably loud enough in the space between them for her to hear it regardless. His uncle had been scared of anything that so much as brushed the dark. He'd tried to hide it with regard to Kylo when he'd been younger, but he'd seen that quiet fear well before Luke had ever come after him with a lightsaber in his sleep.

The rest of that confession is more surprising. He had known from the first time they fought she had more connection to the dark than she would let herself acknowledge. And by now, he has a better idea of why, though he hasn't found the right moment to tell her what he had learned about her own grandfather, and he's not certain that the answer should be now, when she's already feeling such distress.

Not sure of any words at all, he goes a different route and lays his hand over one of hers where it grips the step between them, hoping that will provide some comfort, at least.

Some of the tension goes out of her when his hand finds hers, and the overwhelming tiredness that always follows in the wake of healing someone starts to take its place. With an exhalation of sheer relief at having told someone -- someone who didn't want to use the information to hurt her -- she leans into him, resting her head on his shoulder and letting her eyes fall closed while she tries to gather up the pieces she feels shattered into.

It's long enough before she speaks that she might've fallen asleep. She doesn't open her eyes, even, but her words are clear enough, if softly spoken.

"I'm sorry. For shutting you out."

And for walking away, but mostly for refusing to hear him in any way in the year that had passed.

He's glad that it seems to relax her. His own thoughts are spinning a bit, but he does his best to keep them quiet, for now. So far, he's avoided talking to his grandfather about his former master and, apparently, the man behind the whole thing, but it might be time for that to change, when there's a chance.

He's starting to wonder if she actually may have fallen asleep when she speaks again. An apology he hadn't expected to ever hear from her, even if they had managed to speak more reasonably again since being here. He doesn't acknowledge it directly, nor does it take away the hurt from all that time, but he won't hide that he's grateful for her saying it.

"It was hard, trying to lead on my own." Even simply being on his own, when he was so used to the presence of another person in his mind, and she'd kept her side of their connection so incredibly silent. It's a confession, not an accusation. A relief, in a way, that for at least a moment, he doesn't have to pretend that he's been just fine this whole time being Supreme Leader alone.

She's very nearly asleep, having used every ounce of her spare energy in trying to keep her emotions in check, and so overwhelmed that she doesn't want to do anything but fall into the nearest bed and sleep until the sun is very firmly down. But she's awake enough to hear him, and to turn her hand so she can squeeze his in acknowledgment and maybe something like a promise. One she hopes she can keep, this time.

You won't be on your own.

She doesn't manage to say it clearly aloud; only murmurs something not quite so intelligible before drowsiness pulls her under. A soft snore a few moments later confirms it; she's quite soundly asleep for at least the next little while.

He feels that squeeze, and he understands it. Trust that it will last is a bit more difficult, after everything, but that doesn't matter so much for right now. He stays there a short while longer, turning his own thoughts over in his head and letting her rest. But it's not too long before he decides to gently extract himself from her.

She's very heavily asleep, it seems, barely stirring at all when he tries to move. Not wanting to just leave her on the front steps, he ultimately decides to scoop her up and carry her inside, quietly willing her to not wake up in the middle of that lest she be less than pleased about being carried somewhere. He sets her down again on a chair, in a different part of the house from where his grandfather has been resting, before returning to Vader. He wants to be able to talk in relative privacy.

Had he actually been resting?

No. Of course not. With the return of the Force came the return of the need to move, to do things. That feeling of itching crawling wrongness that came with being still. And he was well practiced at using the Force to pull himself up and front health. So he'd moved, stretched, tested his body for strength and balance before sitting again. Had it weakened him? A little.

He'd also kept a light feel for those around him. Obi-Wan, Padmè, Kylo, Rey. Where they moved, their emotional states.

So he was ready when his grandson walked in, sitting up and at least looking better.

"You look better." He isn't aware of Vader having been doing more than was likely wise during his absence, though Kylo wouldn't have faulted him for it. He'd do the same thing under the circumstances.

That Rey's healing seems to have indeed helped is a relief on a few levels. He'd be glad for it, no matter what, but perhaps especially glad now that he has a lot of thoughts on his mind to perhaps talk out, and Vader seems perhaps in a better state for that conversation.

"I feel better." There's a shade of warmth to it, gratitude really, but he's not voiced it. His presence however, reflects it back.

"How is she?" He doesn't expect her to have recovered so quickly. But she was asleep, and so he took it to mean 'calmer' which was good. For all of them.

"Sleeping in the other room." Vader probably knows that already, but it's the simplest answer. He steps further into the room, settling into the chair he'd been sitting on earlier.

"Did you sense anything from her, when she healed you?" He hadn't been certain how to start this conversation when he came in, but it now occurs to him that Vader may have also felt whatever it was that had scared Rey so badly. He has some of his own guesses about it, but he'd like his grandfather's insight.

"Good." Not just for her sake or for returning a mercy with mercy, but for his grandson's sake. He seemed more settled as well.

"I did." It's heavily guarded. His voice quiet. "What do you know of her? Her people? Do you know how she came to be on Jakku?"

That line of questioning tells him enough to give him the answer to the question he hadn't voiced. His own reply is just as guarded.

"I do. But she doesn't." He'd solidified that false story himself, though he hadn't realised it at the time. He had seen that her parents abandoned her. The story of why, in retrospect, might have been a falsehood drawn from her own fears rather than from the truth.

"Her parents left her there. I saw a vision... I thought they'd sold her for their own selfish reasons. It seems they were trying to keep her hidden, instead." He can't say his opinion of Rey's parents has improved terribly much since he'd learned that, considering the life they'd left her.

There are a few topics that immediately gets his hackles up. The muscles on his head tensing, his mouth pulling into a silent snarl complete with the threat of teeth.

Selling children? Actually one of those.

"She must have been quite young." That's troubling as much as it's relieving. "How old were her parents? Can you guess?"

He doesn't know the details of what agreement her parents had with the scrap trader on Jakku. Rey hadn't been a slave. But he'd seen enough in her memories to know that she hadn't been much better off, spending her days searching through junk in the hopes of finding enough useful parts to trade in for food to eat.

He shakes his head at the question. "I'm not sure." Old enough to have a child, but beyond that, he doesn't know. His vision hadn't been that clear, and that hadn't been a part of what he's learned since. "But I do know who her grandfather is. You felt it, too, didn't you?"

Was there really a difference? No where to go, dependent on him for survival, with refusal spelling death?

His mouth draws. "Yes. I did." It's still guarded, darkened. His head turns just a little toward her direction as if listening. "It's concerning."

And now he gets to the complicated part, the things that he himself doesn't understand fully. It takes a moment for him to find the right words.

"I met him. Recently. Everyone thought he was dead, but he was just staying hidden. He's the one who sent my master, Snoke, to find me." That feels like a horrific simplification, when Palpatine had claimed to have been the voice he had heard all his life, and said it in a way that echoed of Snoke. When Snoke himself seemed to be a clone, entirely replaceable if need be. But also Kylo had seen him die, and there had been a time after when the familiar presence in his head had been silent. He doesn't know what the truth is, really.

"He's been looking for her, too. She doesn't know, but she feels it."

Vader was quiet, listening. There was a quiet fury growing, like caf cooking in a percolator. It felt like danger, but also like hunting.

"Of course he was. Did." It wasn't like he hadn't warned him, all those years ago at the opera. "He mustn't get either of you."

If Vader's energy is a quiet rage, then Kylo's is a quiet guilt, knowing just how thoroughly Snoke did have hold of him for a time. Knowing now that there was even more manipulation in that than he realised, with Palpatine behind the scenes. His hand clenches to a fist against his leg.

"I listened to Snoke, for a long time. More than I should have." He doesn't want to say just how long. He doesn't want to admit that more than he should have entails having killed his own father. He doesn't know how Vader would react to either of those things.

He shakes his head, clearing his thoughts as much as he can. "But he's dead now. I killed him. And I won't serve Palpatine." Even if he'd played along in the moment, he has no intention of following him, and that conviction is only stronger knowing that his grandfather feels the same.

He can sense that guilt. He knows that guilt. That shame. "I was thirteen when he got his hands on me. His hooks in me. He knows what he's doing. He did it to Maul, to Sly Moore, others. Maul was five, Moore was a toddler. He made you think he cared about you. All while engineering your torture. Even knowing what he was, I couldn't leave. Not then." Now he was, clearly. "If Snoke was an agent of his, it's no wonder you couldn't pull yourself away." He knew, he understood. It infuriated him that he did but better for Kylo now.

That understanding helps, in a way, but it doesn't make him feel better. It only makes him angrier. He draws in a breath, and lets it out with an audibly tense huff.

"He was there as long as I remember. A voice in my head that kept me company when my parents were away." They had been away too much. Too busy rebuilding the galaxy to spend time raising their son. And then they'd sent him away to his uncle, for fear of him being influenced by the Dark Side. Vader already knows how that turned out.

Snoke had had it easy with him, and Kylo hates how many of those early memories remain somehow fond even knowing everything he knows now.

Even though he knows what Palpatine was doing - had known even then really, some of what Palpatine had been doing - with the touches to his cheek, the arm around his shoulders, the hand on his shoulder blade, the quiet, soft whispers in his ear. The privileges and attention, the praise and words of care and love.

Vader knew it. Oh too well he knew it. His 'saving grace' had been not the Jedi (that was laughable), not even Obi-Wan (although he suspected Obi-Wan would engage in self-flagellation if he knew the truth, helping none), no it had been Shmi Skywalker. And somehow, his grandson hadn't even what a slave-boy had had.

"He likes that tactic. To slip in when you are alone and shower attention and affection on you, to pull you in closer until you don't realize the trap." Vader reached over and took Kylo's face in his hand, with understanding but firm nonetheless. "You didn't deserve that. She doesn't. Protect her from him. Give her what I couldn't give you."

At that last sentence, Kylo's eyes threaten to tear up yet again at the thought of just how different his life might have been had his grandfather been a part of it. Growing up, his family hadn't even told him the truth of who his grandfather had been. Probably for fear that he would end up like him--the irony.

He takes a deep breath, and lets it out with a shaky sigh. "I haven't told her yet." There hadn't been a time for it, since he'd learned. She hadn't been willing to listen--and in the moments she might have, he hadn't wanted to mess it up by delivering that news. "I wasn't sure she would even believe me."

After their conversation just now, he's far more inclined to believe that she would. But that doesn't make the task of figuring out how to tell her any easier.

Rey hadn't been able to sleep for long, given the stormy emotions swirling around in the small hut, and the fact that she hadn't been truly intending to fall asleep to begin with. She'd awoken faintly disoriented and walked toward the voices, stopping in her tracks once she realized they were talking about her. Or, well -- she supposed there could be someone else, but it hardly seemed likely.

A cold sense of dread refused to release its grip on her as she listens for some clue, and finally can hold her tongue no longer.

"What wouldn't I believe?"

She still looks a bit drained, like someone who ought to have been left sleeping, but her eyes are sharp as she looks from one man to the other in search of answers.

"Who could I possibly need protection from that you think I'm not capable of providing for myself?"

It was impossible for Vader not to notice Kylo's freeze as Rey spoke. Vader stepped in, his fingers stretching slowly, moving slower than the small, sideways wave of his hand, to push around some of Obi-Wan's belongings to stack them into a stool for Rey to sit on. After giving her a look over, he added a small backrest to the stool.

"Join us." He'd left her stool within easy conversation and touch of both of them, although closer to Kylo. It also would leave the door in her sight line. "I have no doubt that eventually there'd be very few things that exist in our galaxy that you won't prove adept at protecting yourself from. But you aren't there yet. You simply need more training, and time to mature into your abilities. Our concern isn't meant to discredit you."

Kylo is more than a little grateful for Vader taking the lead on inviting Rey into the conversation. Positively radiating it. All he could have done is stare at her, or make himself come up with words that would inevitably be wrong.

He nods after his grandfather speaks, and gestures toward the makeshift seat that's been made for her. Now that he's had a moment more to consider, he can offer her at least the beginning of an answer. "That feeling you mentioned. I think I know what it is."

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general cw for abuse and grooming since they might be on this for a bit

Re: general cw for abuse and grooming since they might be on this for a bit

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