maskormenace | (no subject)

[True to his word, Han shows up just twenty minutes later—he'd have been earlier, but his car broke down and he had to sprint all the way through, nearly knocking some kid's bike over in his haste. But he's here now, frantically knocking on the door.]

Kylo! Kriffing hell—open up!

[ Ren exchanges a quick look with Hux, who doesn't look too pleased about it but slips out of the room- before going to the door.

It's ironic- this passion, this fear and need to see his son- arriving here, now. The wrong place, the wrong time. Kylo pauses, his hand hovering for a moment as he breathes, slowly, and opens the door.

Han might have all the force-sensitivity of a baked rock, but he has eyes, and that's all that's needed to determine that Kylo is barely holding himself together. The scar across his face is the least of his damage. ]

I'm here.

[The first thing he sees is the scar, and the worry twists into something uglier in his gut. He might not have known Kylo Ren for very long, but he's very sure that if anyone were to hurt him he'd most likely come after them yelling Wookiee curse words at them.

Then he takes the rest of him in, and his brow furrows even more.]

Stang—what happened? Are you all right?

[ His eyes lock onto Han's face, onto that expression of worry- and he has no defence left. Nothing left. He can't look away, he can't stop seeing it, over and over, because that expression layers so perfectly over the one Han will wear years from now. Illuminated in red.

He blinks rapidly, trying to fight the tears welling up in his eyes again, sucks in a breath, swallows, hard.

How is he supposed to leave the past behind when it looks him in the eyes like this?
The words shudder out of him. ]

I don't know how to do this any more.

[Years from now Han will step out onto a catwalk, hope kindling deep in his old bones for the last time. But right here, right now, it's still there, still a new-born thing cultivated by years of hanging around rebels and would-be Jedi Knights.]

Do what? Whatever it is, I can help. You know that, right? [He places his hands on his hips.] You're my son. Just tell me what you need help with, I'll do what I can.

[ Will you help me, he had asked his father, his heart pounding as furiously in his chest as it does now.
But killing his father had given him no relief. No release from his pain. Snoke had been right to mock him- it had split his spirit to the core. ]

I don't know how to live with what I have done. How to leave it behind.

Coming to another universe is pretty helpful there. [But there aren't any guarantees, that's also something Han can attest to, from just sitting on the sidelines watching his universe's crap get dragged up periodically for the network to comment on.

But. Well. This is his kid, so he sighs.]

What did you do? Whatever it is, I'm sure I could at least get you started with figuring out how to live with it. [He shoves his hands into his pockets, lets out a breath.] I've done a lot of living with things I did. I ever tell you about any of that?

[About Frax? About Jabba? About Sana?]

[ He swallows again, Han's words floating over him- he knows the offer in them is genuine. He knows what his father is trying to do.
But he feels absolutely certain there is nothing in Han's past that can approach what he did on Starkiller. ]

You know.

[ His voice is quiet and steady, and he forces himself to look his father in the eyes. ]

You know what I did. You feel it. I know you do.

[Han has the Force-sensitivity of a potato. He's not sure what Kylo is trying to say here, but he does have—suspicions, maybe. That Kylo stood by, and watched, and didn't lift a finger when Han died. Will die. In the future, in Kylo's past.

He breathes out.]

Not for sure. And I don't know how, but that's not something I care about—how it happened, I mean. [He doesn't look away from Kylo. Stars, he really does have Leia's eyes.] Let me in. Let me help. Tell me, and we'll figure something out. I'm not going to leave you alone to deal with this.

You came for me.

[ He's committed, now. He's committed. No turning back.
It can't be undone by refusing to speak of it. He knows.
It can't be undone. Ever. ]

On Starkiller. You came for me. Years too late. I hadn't-- you looked so old. So tired.
And when you asked-- you asked me. To come home.

[ His eyes are wet with tears, but he won't look away. ]

I had to do it. I had to. Every... moment. Every moment you existed was agony.
I had to be free of it.

[Oh. He gets it.]

...I'm gonna guess you didn't. Take the offer, I mean. [There's no judgment in his tone, just acceptance. The tired kind of acceptance, like he'd figured at least parts of it out for himself, just hadn't wanted to look at them until now. It might look an awful lot like the older version, that Kylo had last seen on Starkiller Base.] I'm sorry. That I came too late, that I didn't try to find you earlier.

[It makes sense. It makes an awful kind of sense, and kriff, Han's not sure he can tell Leia, or Luke about this.]

What about here and now? What do you need me to do, to help?

To help?

[ He can't- it doesn't make any sense. It's his father's hand, reaching out to touch the face of the son who has murdered him, all over again. He wants hate, he wants anger, he wants-- anything, other than this.

He shakes his head. ]

I killed you. Don't you understand? I killed you. I looked you in the eyes. I took my lightsaber, and I ran you through with it. That's how it ends. That's how you die.

I kill you.

[Yeah he definitely did not expect Kylo to say it so bluntly, and Han scowls at him and crosses his arms, defensive and even a little bit huffy.]

Yeah, I understand. My ears work. [Is this how Luke felt like, thinking there's still good in his father? Because there's still good in Kylo, even despite what he's telling him now.] Doesn't change the fact that I still want to help. I kriffed up. Or will kriff up, bad enough you put a 'saber through me. Let me fix that, lemme—lemme do something, to make it up to you.

[Because he thinks this is his fault, at the heart of it. Because he believes he must've done something wrong, somehow, somewhere along the way, because why else would that happen?]

[ He doesn't look angry, despite the intensity of his words, or the defensive retort of Han's response. If anything, he looks lost. Confused. ]

I killed you.

[ He feels like he's locked into saying it, after so long of refusing to let the words past his lips- because the only reason he can understand that explains his father's reaction is that he simply hasn't grasped the truth. Why else would he be apologising? ]

Anything-- you did, or didn't do- you have paid for. You don't owe me anything.

[I killed you. Han should be angrier about that, perhaps. Some part of him is resolved to make sure it doesn't happen, but that's not anger. That's just Han, defiant, clinging on to the idea that he could still shape his own future, even if it's spelled out in front of him.

Maybe it's too late for him in their galaxy, but not here.]

You're my son. It's not a matter of debt. [You don't owe me anything, Han, Leia's voice echoes, from just a few years ago, after that mess with Frax. We don't keep a tally of debts.] I just—you're my son, I want to do right by you here and now. That's it, that's all there is to it.

[ He doesn't understand it and he knows, full well, that nothing in him deserves it.
But he knows there is no lie in his father's insistence.

His own voice is tight. Choked. ]

I would take it back. If I could. I would.

[One hand drifts up, as if Han means to put it on Kylo's shoulder, reassuring. He doesn't, changing the trajectory halfway through so he runs a hand through his own hair instead, as if suddenly conscious—he wants to fix things, somehow. He doesn't know how, and he's not sure how he's even supposed to start with this bomb that's been dropped on him.

But this is his boy. He's got to start somewhere.]

...'s'okay. [For someone so quick to belligerence, Han can be soft when he wants to be, kind and gentle in a way he normally isn't for anyone he's not close with.] I know.

[He breathes out.]

If you still want, we can still have that lunch. And we can talk a little more.

[ He watches that hand move- he wants it on his shoulder. But Han is not Anakin- he doesn't have the Force to clue him in to Kylo's needs and wants, and he's... nervous.

Kylo nods, still very uncertain how to behave around his father. The one thing he does know is that he wants the opportunity to test it out. ]

I was looking forward to it.

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