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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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.

Did he have enough guts left to lurch? He doubted it but it felt like they jerking around to tie themselves into some impossible knot while the dragon's jaws snapped and his head battered at Vader's heart.

No.

No.

No.

It's not quite screamed in the Force. But it's not far from it.

But he does move, sitting up to take each of their faces in a hand. Gently for a moment, before his touch get just a tad firmer. Vader looked both of them in the face, making eye contact between them.

"He lies. He will never share power. Never." It's snapped. "He'll attempt to use you against each other, he'll be afraid of you. Of your bond and of your strength. Do. Not. Let. Him. He's done it before. Successfully." He doesn't mean, mentally kicks himself and jerks his head back to them, but he definitely looked in Obi-Wan's direction, walls and space be damned. He knew where he was. "I suspect but I cannot prove, that he has the ability to influence the visions of other Force Users. To twist what they see so they cannot completely read their visions. He did that, I believe with Padmé and I. He attempted to assassinate Obi-Wan many times. He." Vader's muscles pulled at his face, twisting the scar tissue and pulling it painfully tight in places. "He knew I'd never let Obi-Wan go. Never let go of him. Kirff whatever my master said, Obi-Wan is mine. He will try to do the same to you." It's a slip he hasn't made in over a decade, speaking more like Anakin Skywalker than Darth Vader. Palpatine hadn't been wrong in how the hooks of the past effected him.

"Trust in each other, never him. The Force bound you to one another. Trust in the Force."

Rey freezes the instant Vader's hand touches her face, scarcely breathing until he's done speaking. The air in the room feels oppressively heavy. It's too much. It's been too much for some time, now. She ought to have run when she could.

She's clutching Kylo's hand hard enough that she's likely hurting him, and that contact is the only thing keeping her from running screaming from the hut or possibly being sick right here. She can't process all of it in any way, shape or form, save that somehow she'd been wrong about nearly everything she'd ever believed of herself, of Kylo, of Vader -- and that Palpatine was capable of more than she ever could've fathomed. That he could've touched her mind from so far away -- that he could have turned Anakin Skywalker and Obi-Wan Kenobi against one another in spite of whatever bond she's reasonably sure was just implied was shared --

"Ben. Can you please get me out of here."

She doesn't trust herself to stand, to move, to react in any way. But she needs to be out of here, or something very bad is going to happen when she can figure out what she's feeling, and she wants to be very far away from other people when it does lest whatever destructive impulse she's capable of takes the lead.

Kylo isn't quite so overwhelmed by that sudden burst from Vader, but he's still a bit stunned. He had wondered about the exact relationship between Vader and Obi-Wan, and he can't claim to understand it even now, but that certainly gave him some clues. And the implication that he and Obi-Wan had had a connection in any way similar to his and Rey's is... interesting, to say the least. And a lot to think about, some time other than right now.

He can feel just how unsteady Rey is. Not only from the way she's gripping his hand and seems to have stopped breathing. He feels it almost as if it were his own panic, enough that it takes him a moment to register the request she just made.

"Yeah. Okay." His gives his grandfather a meaningful glance as he gently pulls away from his touch. Don't worry, I'll take care of her. His attention then turns to Rey, taking a brief moment to make sure he's going to be steady himself before standing and offering a hand to help her up.

Edited 2022-10-21 02:47 (UTC)

When Rey spoke, it was Vader's turn to be confused. He doubted Obi-Wan could hear her - was certain of it - and didn't see the point of calling him Ben here.

He was still confused then his grandson responded even if he caught up quickly - right, birth name, so on. Leia, that..
he probably DESERVES that but still.

Vader withdrew his hands, nodding at them both. "Grass. Or water. Growing, moving things." He knew where was easier to grab hold of the Force and ground one's self. At least in the Light, for her.

Rey takes Kylo's hand and stands shakily. Her legs agree to hold her, though she moves somewhat mechanically, allowing herself to be led away more than choosing any such thing for herself. Outdoors seems better than inside, and it's enough of a walk back to the apartments that she'll be able to compose herself well enough before she gets back around other people.

She can't let Luke take on any of this; she's not sure how shielding from tethers works, if it even does, but she doesn't want to accidentally drop any of it onto him without warning.

"I just want to go home."

The apartments aren't really home, but they're close enough. She has her own space there; she can lock the door and be left alone to deal as she chose. But she'll be grateful for the company on the walk home; she's genuinely not sure she wouldn't go off and do something entirely foolish if left to wander that way alone.

She seems to walk well enough, if shakily. He lends her an arm to latch onto as they make their way back outside the hut, if she wants it. They move in silence, but his concern speaks for itself through the bond between them.

"Okay." That's an easy enough destination, and he would rather see her to her own space than leave her alone anywhere else in her current state. Not that he intends to leave her alone until she seems less likely to pass out from shock. He starts off in the direction of the apartments.

She takes his arm for comfort more than physical support, though as distant as she feels from her own legs she's surprised that they carry her as well as they do. She's moving on autopilot, refusing to think or feel much of anything until she's somewhere safer.

She's barely aware of how much time passes before they turn up at the apartment complex, but she's silent for all of it, unable to form any words at all for Kylo's benefit or her own. She's so completely emotionally wrung out from the entirety of it all that she's grateful to be with someone who doesn't need to ask her if she's okay when she's clearly not. Perhaps later she'll be angry with herself for placing so much trust in him, and in Vader, for that matter -- but for now she's just relieved that he's here. That she hadn't had to process this alone.

Kylo doesn't try to speak. Unlike Rey, it's not that he can't. It's just that there isn't anything to say that would be at all useful. It's obvious that Rey isn't in a place to talk.

He doesn't pause to ask her for directions once they get back to the apartments, either. He knows which one is hers; that information wasn't difficult to figure out even if he'd never had occasion to make use of that knowledge until now.

Rey doesn't question how he knew where she lived; she'd done the same thing herself back when they weren't even speaking. It was better for them both if they knew where the other could be found, whether or not they wanted to be near one another.

She swipes her key card mechanically, pushes the door open, then turns back to Kylo. Her expression is still distant, but she's at least holding onto something resembling composure.

"I'll be all right. You don't need to worry."

A part of her appreciates the concern he's been radiating, but she needs space. It's enough to know he's here, that if she reaches out he'll still be here later, when she's ready to talk about any of it again.

Considering she seemed to be in a complete haze the whole way over here, he's not so sure about the not needing to worry. But he imagines she'll be safe enough in her own apartment, at least. His brow furrows, evaluating.

"I can stay, if you want." She's implied she doesn't need him to, but whether she's saying that because she wants to be alone or because she just doesn't want to ask him to stay is a bit less clear.

She stares at him blankly for a second or two and then shakes her head. He doesn't need to worry about her physical safety, at least. She'll be fine on that count once she's had a solid few hours of sleep in a row, and she's not going to seek out any particular danger to push aside the urge to think.

Beyond that, she can't promise much. She's numb, entirely unable to access a single feeling she can name. His presence is comforting inasmuch as she's able to feel comfort right now, but there's nothing he can do.

"I don't want you to have to feel this."

It's a startling moment of honesty, one that's only possible because she lacks the wherewithal to invent something less true. She doesn't want him to hurt along with her, or to bear whatever rage she's sure will rear its head sooner or later.

That's not a response he's expecting. For a moment, all he can do is blink at her as he wraps his mind around her apparently being concerned about him in the midst of this.

"I don't mind." It's soft, and just as honest. He understands what she's feeling, as much as anyone could, and there's no emotion she could throw at him that would be more volatile than his own. He'd been drawn to her at first because he'd felt her when he looked into her mind, finding a life so different from his and yet feelings so much the same.

Something about the way he says it breaks through the haze and lets her see him, truly, properly. The way she's denied herself for an entire year. The way she'd convinced herself had been a lie.

"I just need to sleep."

The likelihood of her mind being quiet once he's gone, once she's lying there in the silence with nothing but the sound of her own thoughts, is entirely in question. Exhausted as she is from the Force healing and the overall emotional upheaval, she expects her thoughts to be louder. So maybe it's not a bad idea for him to stay a while. Just so she doesn't have to stare at the ceiling and try not to think.

"Could you... just until I'm asleep, could you stay?"

He's not really sure how he expects her to respond to that. It almost feels strange to say, when all of this is on the heels of him being upset enough to have blocked her out. But he doesn't mind. He would rather make sure she was at least relatively okay before he leaves her alone again.

He nods. "I can do that." A quick, meaningful glance behind her; she'll have to move out of the doorway if she wants him to come in.

It's like she's existing in slow-motion. Everything feels distant, including her own reactions, but she moves aside so that he can follow her in. The apartment space is in a state of organized chaos, with half-dissasembled projects she's been working on taking up most of the available spaces to sit.

"I've been helping some people find parts... have you met the Doctor? He has a time machine. Had. A time machine. And space. I'll introduce you."

She's babbling and she knows it, but she hadn't intended on inviting him in here anytime soon. Or anyone, really. She likes her space how it is, and that usually means free of other people.

"I'll just get changed. Give me a minute?"

She might as well not faceplant onto the nearest surface in the same clothes she's worn all day, though the temptation is there. Maybe if she changes out of these clothes she'll feel less like climbing out of her own skin. Or maybe the instant she's behind a closed door she'll find a soft object to scream into. It's honestly anybody's guess at this point.

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

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