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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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."

Rey casts a wary glance at Kylo, whose words do very little to take away the feeling of apprehension she'd entered the room with. It's the strangest thing to feel as though Vader is actually concerned for her, and she's not inclined to trust that there's no deception behind it, or some motive she doesn't yet understand. But they hadn't been speaking for her benefit when she'd overheard.

She moves to the seat that Vader's constructed for her -- feeling the odd urge to remind him that he was meant to be resting, and that she was perfectly capable of getting a chair from the other room -- before aggressively shoving that concern down with the rest of the mess of conflicting emotions she's already trying not to dwell upon.

"All right. I'm listening."

He waits for her to sit, to be ready to hear the answers he hasn't known how to tell her before now, before he starts to talk.

"Before we arrived here, I met Palpatine. He's still alive." Somehow. Even Kylo doesn't have the best grasp of exactly how. Palpatine hadn't felt much of a need to elaborate about it, and Kylo had other questions that were more important.

"And I learned something about your parents. When they left you on Jakku, they were trying to hide you. From him."

Rey had known of Palpatine's return, though she still had trouble believing it was more than rumor, a distraction invented by the First Order. By Kylo himself, perhaps, meant to lead her on a wild chase to find a planet no one knew the way back to after so long. A chase that had been interrupted by her arrival here.

"So it's true. You've already found the way to him."

She tries not to sound as defeated as she feels. If Kylo's already discovered Exegol, the First Order holds an advantage she can't hope to match. Not now. Not if they're in league with Palpatine. Even if Kylo himself isn't, the rumors of First Order involvement don't bode well for the Resistance. The rest of it, though --

"I don't understand. Why would they have any idea he still lived?"

He is supposed to be resting but that isn't going to stop him - he's a ridiculously bad patient, despite having been one for so much of his life.

'Still alive' of course means he was assumed dead and there's a huff from Vader and he's almost grinding his teeth - even if he can't quite manage it - his jaw muscles are too damaged.

"Because he's obsessed with me, my progeny, and using us for his own purposes. We're more powerful than he is." Vader's aura grows even colder, Darker, spelling how much he wants to kill, is planning to kill. It's probably not difficult to imagine WHO. The amount of hatred for his Master is actually impressive, even for Sith.

The hatred radiating from Vader is something Kylo entirely understands. Even finds it comforting, in a way, because until he met Vader in person, he had no idea what his feelings about the former Emperor had been. He had no true way of knowing whether killing Snoke was something he would have approved of. Now that answer is very clear.

The feelings he senses from Rey are nearly as intense, but hers are all jumbled, wrapped up in a layer of thorough confusion. He returns his focus to her. To the question she'd asked.

"They knew because of who they were." Because Palpatine may have hidden from the galaxy at large, but not from his own offspring. "Palpatine is your grandfather."

Rey doesn't miss that intense wave of hatred emanating from Vader; it feels like something coiling and ready to pounce, and it calls to that same part of her that she'd run from before. The absence of a current threat means she's left teetering on an edge she doesn't yet understand, and she's already fighting a mounting sense of anxiety before Kylo's words break through the haze of warring emotions.

All she can do at first is stare at him, all the color slowly draining from her face as she genuinely forgets how to breathe. She can't make the words fit together in a way that makes sense. It's too much, too unbelievable, and yet somehow delivered with such absolute sincerity that she can't find it in her to deny it.

She looks from Kylo to Vader and back again, trying and failing to take a full breath past the mounting hysteria that finally erupts into a burst of hysterical laughter before she can stop it. There's no humor at all in it; she's nearly hyperventilating in an attempt to catch her breath. But it's so purely impossible that her mind won't even process it, and so she's left speechless as the laughter starts to edge over into tears.

He doesn't know how he expects Rey to react to that news. It could go any of several different way, all of them bad in some aspect or another. She seems to have landed on one that's especially rough on her own body.

For a moment, he just watches, letting her be as his words start to sink in. But soon enough, he reaches for her, laying a hand on her shoulder. It's a stabilizing and comforting touch, he hopes.

Vader gives her time. He remembers, all too well, his visions which lead him to think Palpatine created him in the Force.

He can't imagine for her. Doesn't want to really. But after a couple moments he mentally reached out, just as the tears start, nudging Kylo hard to physically reach for her. Ground her.

"Rey. Listen. Breathe. Breathe with us." Between Anakin Skywalker and his time interrogating people he knew how to calm someone down.

Vader even reached over, gold-tipped fingers brushing her arm. Come on child.

She'd run from them the last time she'd felt like this. Now she's frozen in place, her legs refusing to obey her after the amount of physical and emotional stress she's placed upon her body in such a short time. Kylo's hand on her shoulder is an anchor, something present for her to turn her awareness to while she fights to catch her breath. She swipes fruitlessly at her eyes, trying to contain the tears that result from the painful laugh-sobs that won't be quieted.

Vader's voice reaches her a moment later, and the fact that she's able to listen, to center herself a little, to draw even a little bit of comfort from that light touch of cool metal -- it's almost enough to tip her back into that hysterical place before she's even out of it. She obeys him anyway, forcing her breath into a more natural rhythm until she's no longer at risk of simply passing out -- much as the idea was tempting in its own way.

He's your grandfather.

They were filthy junk traders who sold you for drinking money.

When she's able to focus, her gaze lands upon Kylo, full of accusation.

"You -- you said. You let me think they were nobody."

She'd been the one to say it, but he'd confirmed it. He hadn't been lying then; she was sure of it. It had felt true. This feels true. It's too much to wrap her head around at once.

He's expecting that accusation. Braced for it. He shakes his head slightly.

"I didn't know then." He'd had a vision, but it hadn't told him everything. His assumptions had made sense at the time, but they had been missing important pieces that he only learned recently. "I thought," he starts, and cuts himself off. "You know what I thought. But I was wrong."

His cold dead heart ached. The dragon shifted, curling tighter, coiled. Was he really in any position to attack? No, he wasn't. Would he have shredded anyone or anything which threatened the two children before him in that moment?

He absolutely would. There would barely be enough left to bait game snares.

"Visions can be unclear. Dealing out their messages in pieces, twisting you in their storm. They care not for your emotions." Ask him how he knew. His mother. His wife. The visions on Mustafar. "And as even I was unaware of Palpatine having a child, he may well have been a 'no one' in terms of what he projected to others." But did he worry about a child in Palpatine's 'care'.

Rey tried to picture her father, anything at all about him beyond a vague male shape with a kind voice and hazy features. She could remember her mother more clearly; a blue cloak, light brown hair in a long braid down her back. A promise to return.

Rey, be brave. You'll be safe here.

"He had them killed, didn't he."

Her voice is hollow and far-away sounding to her own ears. She'd long since accepted that they were dead; there was no other answer that would've hurt less. Either they were dead or they had simply never cared to return, and she could never quite find it in her to believe they'd cast her aside so carelessly.

She's gone cold again in shock and suppressed rage she lacks the ability to express. A part of her wanted to scream at them both, to call down every dark impulse she'd ever had onto them both and somehow erase the knowledge of this horror with them. But they were being kind to her, both of them, and it was almost more than she could bear.

"Does it mean I'm like him? Is that why you're telling me?"

He doesn't reply to the first beyond a small nod. It's an easy enough conclusion to reach, and accurate so far as he knows. His hand grips her shoulder more tightly when she asks the second.

"You aren't anything like him." He says it fiercely, with full conviction. There is darkness in her, yes, but there's also a world of difference between being aligned with the Dark Side and being remotely like Palpatine or Snoke. Meeting his grandfather has erased any lingering doubts he'd had about that.

Vader was quiet as she asked after her parents' fate. "There is a price to defying him. So it is likely he did." There is a weight to the first statement, something which heavily suggests never broaching the topic with Vader, just what that price is. But if one looks close enough at his body, there are fading scars, almost Lichtenberg figures. Because there are layers on layers, some decades old. But combat and other injuries have helped to disguise them.

"Is Leia like me?" He will kick his grandson if he tries to divert the topic. "Palpatine feels like a void in the Force, it's how he hid from the Jedi. He doesn't feel Dark, he is Darkness. I can feel you are related to him. But you aren't him. I doubt you could ever be. But that does make him a large threat to you."

Rey squeezes her eyes shut to keep from falling apart any more thoroughly, and her hand comes up to grip Kylo's where it rests on her shoulder, as though perhaps he could pull her back from the horrible places her mind keeps trying to linger.

It's Vader's question, though, that derails her train of thought enough to make an actual dent in her misery. She opens her eyes again and regards him for a moment before answering.

"She's more like you than she'd prefer to admit, I think. You haven't seen her angry."

There's a trace of humor in it, despite everything.

"I've been having dreams. Of the Sith planet, of the throne he has there. And of myself on it."

With Kylo, she doesn't say aloud, though her gaze flicks back over to him almost unwillingly.

He catches that glance. He wonders if there's any conscious meaning behind it, but for now, he doesn't dare assume. He'd had that thought, before they arrived here, that maybe once Rey knew what had really happened to her parents, she might be willing to work with him in taking Palpatine down. That maybe she would be willing to join him then in the way that she'd refused before. He can't help wondering if that vision Rey's had might mean he was right, even if it scares her now.

"He told me to kill you. To end the Jedi for good." That was what Palpatine had said, but perhaps the truth is that he had seen just what she could be capable of, and that he was protecting himself from her. He had also claimed that Kylo would rule as the new emperor, but Kylo didn't believe that Palpatine had any intention to hand over any of his power to either of them. He glances to his grandfather, looking for any insight he might have.

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

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