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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Rey had been far enough away that she couldn't get there as soon as she felt Kylo's panic, but she dropped what she was doing and ran before she could truly understand why. Something was wrong in the Force; a presence so heavy, cold, and dark that for a moment she assumed the worst -- that Snoke had somehow arrived here, and that he was seeking revenge on his former student.

By the time she was near Obi-Wan's home she'd abandoned that thought, as her awareness of Kylo hadn't faded and yet what she felt from him had dulled to an intense concern more than that initial spike of fear.

She's flushed and breathing hard by the time she arrives, but she's gathered her wits enough to realize that whatever emergency there might've been had faded. Once she understands the overall shape of what had occurred, she imagines that she ought to just go home -- but she's come all this way, and despite their uncomfortable prior encounters she couldn't shake all of the concern she felt for Kylo. So she peeks into the room where the two men are located and clears her throat gently before speaking.

"Hello? Is everything -- I felt --"

She gestures a bit helplessly, unsure of what she's even doing here. Clearly she's unnecessary; even if her Force healing were up to the task of repairing whatever had happened, would it be remotely responsible of her to offer? Or even wanted in the first place?

Being transported had been a struggle - he'd finally calmed down and accepted help, mostly under Padmé's influence but Obi-Wan's desire to help him had given him reason to settle and allow Obi-Wan to finish removing the chip. But he'd still fought them on moving him. He wasn't steady, Padmé had been trying to help, and Vader had utterly refused to put his weight on her, since he was twice her weight. And Obi-Wan was trying, but couldn't call on the Force to assist his strength and Vader was both taller and heavier with his weight landing in awkward places.

It had taken him a few moments to realize the growing Dark presence was approaching them and then who it was. And he'd eventually been able to explain in the confusion who everyone was - Obi-Wan, Padmé, and Leia's son Kylo Ren. And he'd ready accepted being loaded against Kylo and (mostly) carried.

Once he'd been deposited in...something, something that radiated Obi-Wan and both itched against him and comforted him, spelled comfort while still making him uncomfortable. And once settled, his wife and his former master seemed to pull back - likely to collect themselves he thinks - and because he has Kylo there to watch over him.

Able to drawn on Force once more, he's able to somewhat stabilize himself, breathing still labored, heartbeat still too fast, but not in danger of bleeding out and the wound closed thanks to the bacta-like substance he'd had on hand for it. Obi-Wan, he assumed, had the chip, which Vader had refused to let go of, repeating over and over that it needed to go to Tech.

A growing presence glows on his senses, coming closer. It's enough to distract him, because he knows what it feels like - Palpatine, and yet, very much not. Palpatine himself was a sucking black hole of nothing, vastly cold and evil, and even if Vader would never admit it, one he feared. This presence is Light, heated and glowing - calling to mind a breaking dawn. But he can't shake that feeling of Palpatine, or what perhaps he should have felt like, was he not born without the capacity for goodness. It's confusing and distracting at a time when he doesn't have much focus.

It's when she comes in that he puts her face to her presence, matching what Kylo has previously told him. Rey.

"Your Rey." It's a statement towards his grandson, not a question, his voice lacking column due to his breathing. "He's all right." This was directed at Rey, thinking she sensed Kylo and thought Vader (or Obi-Wan) had harmed him.

Kylo is surprised for different reasons when he senses that familiar presence drawing near. He's been blocking her out as farther distance, much as she'd done to him for so much of the time they've known one another. The news of her tethering with the one person here that he can't remotely trust had stung too much to do otherwise.

And yet, here she is. He doesn't precisely have an explanation for that.

He does catch the way Vader identifies her, and he nods in reply. Yes, his Rey, much as he's less inclined to claim her as such right at this moment. She is the person he's bonded to through the Force, regardless of what either of them might feel about it at any given time.

The further comment inspires a frown. "I'm not the one she should be worried about." Despite saying that, he has no doubt that the underlying assumption is correct. Rey wouldn't have come here out of any concern for Vader.

She frowns lightly in response to Vader's identification of her; something about the way he'd said it didn't sit right even if she couldn't be certain of the possessive your. She hadn't offered a name at their last meeting, though she's not surprised Kylo has mentioned her.

None of that is why she's here, though she's left chewing the inside of her lip in thought for a few seconds before replying.

"I was already most of the way here before I could sort out what happened, and it was clear enough that someone had been hurt."

It's not concern for Vader, not exactly. But there were people here who cared about him, and she liked at least some of them unreservedly. And Kylo was... complicated, but she didn't want to see him suffer unnecessarily. Like it or not, she could feel how much Vader meant to him. And she could also feel that the damage to the older man was not insignificant, even with whatever help was available here. Still, she hesitates another moment before seeming to come to a decision.

"I know some Force healing. It's not enough to undo all of what's wrong, but I can help."

Depending on how much one decided to focus on Vader, it's not difficult to sense Vader's fondness and concern for Kylo either. Whatever relationship Kylo had attempted to have with Vader at home, it's certainly not one way here.

But it's her mentioning of Force-Healing that made Vader turn and look her over, examining her almost. "No, I don't expect it would be." As far as he knew, there was no replacing organs or limbs no longer present. No regrowing the discs in his spine which had been carved out make his spine stronger, or repair blown out discs. And most of the scar tissue he had was been formed too long ago to be smoothed away. But it would help replace the blood he'd lost, would speed the wound on his head and neck healing, and would erase the bruises and sore muscles he'd gotten from contorting himself in order to cut at the back of his head and in struggling with Obi-Wan earlier. "But assistance wouldn't be unwelcome." She'd made it clear how she felt about him - she'd offered, he'd accept. But he wouldn't hold it against her to decide not to.

The sense of deep possessiveness toward one another is likewise a two-way street. While Kylo's feelings right now still ring loudly of concern, he can't deny the undercurrent of satisfaction that he's the one who was able to bring his grandfather here, and that he's the one who'd been left to watch over him, at least for now, even if both were largely matters of convenience.

That offer is yet another surprise. He knows what Rey's feelings toward Vader are--but he also knows Rey's tendency to want to help, so perhaps that isn't as much of a surprise as her having come here in the first place.

He won't force the issue if Vader doesn't want it--the biggest danger of his injury has already passed, at least--but he's quick to confirm with a grateful nod toward Rey once he says he'll accept it.

Force healing requires enough empathy for the recipient to allow the transfer of energy to do what it's meant to, which means Rey can't focus on how she feels about Vader. But Anakin Skywalker had been a galactic hero, a Jedi Knight. The man in front of her cared about his children and grandson; that's more than her own parents had done, as far as she's aware. It's enough to put her in the right frame of mind to begin, and she returns Kylo's nod with one of her own, acknowledging -- something. That this was for him, perhaps, more than it was for Vader. That she'd help even if they couldn't see eye to eye.

As for the rest of it -- Rey tries not to stare as she gingerly approaches, though the extent of Vader's old injuries is such that she very nearly asks him how he's even alive to begin with. It's not difficult to feel compassion for someone who's spent a large chunk of their life in the kind of pain these injuries must've caused. For a moment there's a flicker of regret that all she can offer is a speedier healing of whatever he'd done to himself today.

She perches herself lightly next to Vader, still fighting her own instinct to maintain a distance between herself and a threat. But he's not a threat to her this instant. Maybe there's enough honor left in him that this means he won't be anytime soon.

"This shouldn't take long. If you're ready?"

She's fairly certain Vader being aligned with the Dark shouldn't cause any problems, but she still is a little hesitant of flooding his senses with Light energy without ample warning. It shouldn't hurt, but she has to wonder if the Light feels as strange and wrong to him as so much Dark feels to her.

A grandson is far more than he thought he's ever get. And even if he still denies the parts of him that are Anakin Skywalker, still claims the Jedi dead, long dead, he's can't help but feel that of all his progeny, Kylo is the one most like him. Like all of him.

There's always been something lurking inside him that scared him. Whispers and dreams he never told anyone. Not his mother. Not his wife. Not his old master. Not his beloved Padawan. No one. The true extent of what the Force had planned for him always scared him. Always felt like a storm, like a supernova about to rip him apart.

He felt that, at least some of that, in Kylo. It made him worry.

He also understood how much pain he was in. He wouldn't admit it, least of all now, but there's been times here he's passed out from it. Even now, even drawing on the Force if teeters on unbearable. There had been a reason he'd used a diluted neurotoxin to treat it. And even then, it had only lowered it 'bearable'.

He looks at the girl. At Kylo. For a split second his heart rate slips erratic and fast, the frantic beating visible with so much breastbone and ribs removed. The implant in his chest blinks and he diverts his attention to making his heart STOP THAT.

"What do you sense, when you heal someone? Is there feedback?" He's trying to warn her. You don't repay a favor with pain, and she's important to Kylo. It's reason for caution.

That frantic moment draws Kylo's attention back to Vader, concern spiking once again. But it seems under control again soon enough. He wonders what had caused that--though perhaps the question he asks Rey is a clue. Is he worried that he'll hurt her? Or that she'll sense something he doesn't want known?

The question is one for Rey to answer, so Kylo stays silent for now, just watching.

Rey shakes her head. She isn't sure what his specific concern is, but she's not going to be looking for anything nor is it likely to be similar to what she can pick up from Kylo just by being near him, or from Luke now that they're tethered. That's good, because she's not sure she could handle that level of empathy for yet another Skywalker.

"I can get a sense of what needs healing, where the energy needs to go. It doesn't hurt, and I won't pick up on anything I couldn't already just by being Force-sensitive in your presence."

The last thing she wants to do is go digging any deeper into the Vader Experience than she has to.

Kylo's shifting attention - once Vader can spare it - was met with gold-tiped black fingers lightly touching his upper arms. The right forearm an elegant work of art, black metal and gold, nothing extra but every piece hand crafted to be functional and beautiful. The left, grey durasteel, much less refined and bulky. His thighs showed the same cruder work, until they vanished just below his knees into his boots.

"Obviously you can ignore the limbs. My brain still thinks they are there." And the phantom pains were ganging up on him now. "You'll likely to feel like you've been thrown into ice. Don't fight it. Treat it like current, fly through it. Don't forget to breathe." Fly or swim. And he doubted she could swim.

Kylo relaxes at the touch. It's strange, in a way, that metal can be as comforting as skin or cloth, but the intent is clear, and that's what matters.

Until Vader said it, it hadn't occurred to him that his mind would still be convinced that limbs long severed still existed. That's something Kylo can't quite wrap his own mind around, though it lends an extra layer to all the feelings he already has about how much his grandfather must have suffered.

The part about ice prompts a different curiosity. The coldness of Vader's aura is difficult to miss, and perhaps the attempt at healing would simply increase that. But it does make him wonder, "Do you feel cold, yourself?"

He'd had the right hand for more than half his life now, and the rest only barely less than half now. They are him. Flesh or metal, it didn't matter, he'd melded them to himself.

Vader had been tormented by phantom pains since he was a teenager - and it said much about the twisted nature of the Dark Side that he'd inflict that own kind of permanent pain on his own son, whom he admitted to loving, who he attempted to protect and strengthen. However much guilt Vader felt about that, even if here it wasn't done, it just added to his own personal torment.

"In the Force? Yes. With my right hand as clearly as you would with yours. The other limbs are more muted in sensation. Sensation passed that is different. Scar does not transmit as normal skin. Pressure and pain most clearly, old scars feel heat, cold, touch the least. Fresh ones feel them more, unless they are just layering the old, as those nerves are long since gone. Mustafar's lava bank took those long ago." Which had been a trick, he'd been sure, back then. The worst of the burns hadn't hurt. He'd been cold, without skin he'd been unable to hold his own body temperature, and it was still something he constantly fought to do. Without the Force it was impossible.

Rey listens with more interest than she'd like, and an uncomfortable amount of sympathy besides. If it weren't Vader she'd have made a point to ask him about the right prosthetic in more detail; the desire to know how things work was almost as strong as the desire to help people, and if it was knowledge she could take to someone with the correct engineering skills here -- well. Vader was perfectly capable of doing so himself, if he wanted four matching limbs. It wasn't her business.

She takes a breath to steady herself and forces herself to meet Vader's eyes without fear or hesitation before she begins. She's ready for cold, but still her breath catches in her throat when she rests her fingertips lightly on the least scarred patch of skin the can find on Vader's chest and opens herself more fully to the Force. It's a cold so deep she could drown in it, and for a moment she forgets his warning and nearly withdraws in a panic.

Don't fight it.

It's almost a whisper from the Force itself. She'd felt the same once before, on Ahch-To, when the mysterious cave had sent her plunging into icy dark waters that she's still not sure how she navigated well enough to survive. It's another few seconds before she can release enough of her own instincts to breathe normally, and the cold doesn't lift -- but she can feel herself again, too, and the Light within her.

Force healing is a tricky thing; Juhani had told her that the Force Healers of old could've worked true miracles, and as she allows her awareness to spread out a little at a time, she's acutely aware of what could be healed if she were stronger. If she had more training. The Force couldn't regrow limbs, no, but she has the sense that someone better than her could have repaired much of the old scar tissue. Someone who'd learned how to draw more on the Force and less on herself.

As it is, Rey's as careful with her own energy as she knows how to be, and fortunately the worst injury had already been closed. She didn't need to stop the flow of blood or knit together a broken bone, only speed along a natural healing process that's already begun. It's still harder than she'd expected to find the Light against the unrelenting cold. It's there, though, and though she half expects something within Vader to push back against it even as careful as she's being. She allows the energy to spread slowly from her fingertips, relaxing slightly as this much, at least, feels familiar. The Light's there. It won't drop her and leave her alone in the cold.

Least scarred is a trick - it just so happens to be the thin, translucent skin over the bottom of the implant in his chest, his heart just under that space. There's no subcutaneous fat, not on his chest, his limbs, his face, his diet back home too lacking and even here it's lean and he doesn't consume enough calories, preferring to draw on the Force.

Muscle he has but it's not a healthy build. Not what what one would expect of the Empire's best weapon or technical number two.

And he might hand warned her to not fight the cold but he does fight the Light. It's more akin to trying to bathe a tooka - wriggling, pulling, threats of teeth and claws, less an attack and more an attempt to get away. Kriff he even tensed when she touched him, bracing. He's clearly not comfortable, tiny movements in his body as the Light, her Light, spreads through him, into the wound, into his femurs and pelvis to spread along producing blood, it itched.

Itched like falling into a patch of poison leaves and vines, itching and burning even if it wasn't a fire-burn. Somewhere deep and hidden inside him, like called like. Her light called to what he denied lived in him. At was like a star peeking from behind an eclipse, blindingly bright and sudden before slipping back behind the moon, almost completely covered, the smallest sliver remaining.

It said a lot about his discipline that he only squirmed a tiny amount.

It's more difficult than she's expecting, though she's not sure if it's merely the scope of this task compared to the smaller, simpler injuries she's healed prior to this. Maybe it's the conflict within her, the sense that maybe this was wrong -- that maybe she was wrong, one way or another. The sense of struggle makes her want to push harder against that resistance, whether it's her own or Vader's, and she has to forcibly remind herself that that's not how Force healing operates. She'll only hurt herself if she tries to keep too tight a control; just wanting it more doesn't work when it comes to healing.

In the midst of all of it, there's a sense of recognition that creeps into the edges of her awareness as she tries to get out of her own way and let the Force do its work. Beneath all the overbearing cold is something of Luke, and of Kylo. Even Leia. And somehow, impossibly, to her -- though not by the same blood bond that tied the others.

She frowns with the effort and the concentration it takes not to linger on the places her mind wants to go, the doors through which the Force could lead her if she strayed from her intent. There's something just out of reach; a presence she doesn't understand. Something malevolent; something that wants her as it had wanted Ben Solo and Anakin Skywalker before him. Something that dares her to look, to see a truth she can't begin to fathom.

She realizes she's stopped breathing for a moment, that her heart's beating too fast and too hard, and a tiny beads of sweat have begun to gather on her forehead from the effort this healing has taken. Not enough to hurt her, not yet -- but when she lets the connection go and pulls her hand away, it's gone cold as ice, and she can't quite suppress the urge to shiver. She opens her eyes and the room takes a moment to stop swimming, but still somehow seems too small to contain all three of them. She can't quite catch her breath.

She rises and nearly stumbles, pushing past Kylo with only a shake of her head. She can't be here any longer. This isn't a safe space to have whatever reaction this is, and there's not enough air. She tries some word of explanation, but she's not sure what actually comes out beyond a slightly muddled version of I'm sorry, and then she's fleeing for the outdoors in search of space to breathe.

He doesn't mean to snoop. He doesn't, truly. He'd be furious if she did, he's giving her the same courtesy. But there's something so familiar in her.

Not just linked to her but in her.

Oh. Oh. His stomach drops as realization hits and that's when the Dark slides back over the Light.

Oh no.

Vader can see the panic - he can feel it, and there isn't time to pull his own face together as she's running away.

"Go. Kylo go. Calm her. Go." It wasn't just him trying to hemp his grandson. It was repayment of a debt.

The rest they're desk with later.

The answers Vader gives to the question give him a lot to think about. The experience is alien, but in the case of his grandfather, it's easy to find sympathy. There's nothing particular to say to it, so he doesn't, particularly as it becomes obvious how much Rey needs to focus to do the healing, and how much Vader needs to focus in order to allow it.

The explosion of motion the moment they separate stuns him enough that for a moment he has no idea what to do. The impulse to run after her is there, but so is the urge to stay and make sure his grandfather is actually alright, since that had seemed trying for him as well. That, and he's not sure Rey would want him to follow.

He looks between his grandfather and the door Rey had just disappeared through, lost. It's only the words that make him act, and then he gives just a small nod before running after her.

Rey doesn't get far before dizziness overtakes her and she has to lean against the side of the hut to try to regain her bearings.

You're fine. You're fine. It wasn't you.

She repeats it over and over again, no closer to believing it than she was when she'd fled, as she tries to rub some warmth back into the hand that's gone cold and numb in the wake of the healing. It's not usually this bad, and she's not sure if it's her own panic or something to do with how much of the Dark she felt in Vader or just the complexity of the task she'd just done. Maybe all three.

She's got her teeth clenched tightly together to keep them from chattering, which is the only thing that stops her from immediately responding once she realizes she's been followed. A protest of I'm fine dies before she can even fully form the thought; clearly she's not, and she doesn't have the energy to argue the point.

"I just. Need a minute."

She finally grits it out with minimal chattering, though her voice lacks its usual strength. Kylo's presence isn't unwelcome in itself; she just doesn't want anyone to see her like this.

It's for the best that she didn't attempt that lie. Kylo would have had none of it. As it is, he looks her over with concern.

"You're freezing." The chatter of her teeth and the way she's holding herself speak of trying to preserve warmth. But even her presence in the Force is cold, in a way he's not used to feeling so clearly from her. Vader had clearly meant it, about diving into ice.

She's also putting a lot of effort into keeping her thoughts small and quiet so that Kylo doesn't get a sense of how muddled they are. The familiarity she'd felt once she'd gotten used to the cold. The way that somehow Vader of all people made her feel the same sort of longing for a family she'd never know. The way that a part of her recognized him -- and then went immediately to that same dark place that she wakes in a panic from nearly every night, now. The part of her that sees herself on the Sith throne. The part she's been trying desperately to convince herself doesn't come from her.

"I don't understand. It's not usually like this."

Her hand usually tingles a little in the aftermath, maybe feels a little cramped til she can shake it out. She's used to being exhausted in the immediate aftermath, but it's nothing a nap doesn't cure. This isn't that, to say nothing of the lingering tendrils of panic that threaten to claw their way back up her throat. She's never had an emotional reaction like this to simply healing someone.

She's blocking him from her thoughts, enough that it's hard to fully establish the context of her comment.

"Healing?" He doesn't really doubt that that's what she means in general, but he's not sure what's throwing her quite so badly. It seems obvious that it would be different in some way from whatever she's done before. He assumes she's never healed someone so attuned to the Dark Side, nor presumably someone she considers an enemy. But it also seems like this goes beyond that. "What was different?"

She shakes her head and folds her arms more tightly to keep herself from trying to shiver. The cold's receding the longer she stands here, but she's no less unsettled. It's still a little harder to breathe than she'd like, and it takes her a minute to gather an explanation that makes sense.

"Not just healing. I don't know. I felt -- there was something --"

She shakes her head again, almost as though to clear it.

"It's too much. I can't explain it now."

Later, maybe. With some time and distance between herself and Vader. Between the horrible familiarity that felt like it pulled her in several directions at once. Between herself and that dark something that came for her dreams as she slept.

He waits, not really able to even guess what she might say. When she does speak, she cuts herself off. What had she felt, if not the darkness she surely knew was there already?

"Okay." It's an awkward reply, not satisfying to either his curiosity or concern, but he knows what it's like to not be able to articulate something, so he can respect it from her. From there, he doesn't know what to say, nor what he can usefully do in this situation.

"Are you-" he starts, and stops. There's no point to asking such a clichéd thing as are you alright, when it's so very obvious she isn't. The question that takes its place is a more difficult one to ask. But she had trusted him before. She had been willing to cry on. This time, he's the one who's less certain about offering.

Go Kylo. Calm her.

"Is there something I can do?"

She might be able to explain it to him later, once she sorts it all out for herself. His question catches her by surprise, and she searches his face for some sign of what's shifted again between them. He'd been holding her at a distance after their last encounter; she hadn't expected healing Vader to change that, not really, not when the thing that angered him hadn't changed.

"Aren't you angry with me?"

His presence helps her more than she wants it to, honestly, but she doesn't want him to stay out of some sense that he owes her. She'll be fine in another few minutes, enough to walk back home, anyway.

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